#but expect the event to actually be happening late spring/early summer
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blixxkixx · 2 months ago
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also btw monster trio week is in production. I'm waiting to release the interest check closer to spring, since I don't think i'll be able to host it until I'm done with school
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murfpersonalblog · 2 months ago
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IWTV S2 Musings - Tentative Timeline (Pt2: The Trial)
I've been struggling with this for a while, cuz this ish just don't make sense, AMC. (I fully expect S3 to gotcha/retcon/fix stuff, esp. since who knows what Armand's tinkered around with in Louis' head.) I split this timeline in 2 parts: Pt1 has everything from 2x1 - 2x6ish (text & chart versions of timeline); and Pt2 covers as much as I can understand from the Trial's shenanigans. (I'm just one person tryna figure out wtf is going on, so if y'all have any insights, please share!)
I've been grappling with the sequence of events that led to the Trial since 2x6 aired, when Armand "could not prevent" his CHOICE to stand back and let Louis' family be abducted & tortured & killed.
Armand was actually in cahoots with Santiago the whole time (writing/directing/editing the Trial script); so was he also lying/making excuses about why THE most powerful vampire with the Mind Gift wasn't reading his own coven's thoughts?
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So, since we know Armand put false memories into Lou's head about the Trial (which ofc makes Louis' account more difficult to parse), and we know Armand knew all about Lestat/Bruce since the very first day, I've just been wondering how early the Trial was planned out.
Cuz the BIG question everyone's circling around is WHEN Lestat arrived in Paris, and WHY he didn't warn Louis that the coven was planning something.
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Theories range from:
Les willingly participated in the Trial, deliberately acting with ill intent cuz he was mad about Mardi Gras; "it's their turn to hurt." Lesdaughter Truthers are wrong, Les DGAF about Claudia.
Les was unable to warn Louis or stop the Trial cuz he was captured, injured & manipulated/mind-fogged (a la the book canon)
Sam Reid (deliberately?) hemmed & hawed about Lestat going into the rehearsal/Trial acting on raw impulse, with no plan whatsoever, other than getting Louis (specifically) out alive
NGL, I think ALL of the above are to some degree true! 😅
But I lean toward Theory #2 most of all, cuz that's how the book events transpired. But I'll be the first to admit that #2 is deeply flawed & hard AF to defend/prove, based on what little we actually saw in 2x6, 2x7, and esp. 2x8. Cuz it really does seem like Les LET an awful lot of bad ish happen that he too could've prevented.
So I wanna put 2x6 into context this time, to try and piece things together. Cuz the math REALLY ain't mathin, AMC.
What we have thus far:
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According to Armand in 2x8, he started lying to Louis about the coven preparing the Trial the night Madeleine was Turned in 2x6.
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November 1945
Armand knew the FIRST NIGHT Louis & Claudia arrived in Summer 1945 that they were lying about Lestat/"Bruce."
Spring 1946 - Spring 1947
The coven was suspicious the entire time--it's esp. obvs. as Santiago grills them about "Chicago":
Santiago vs Claudia (2x3) around Spring 1946, "Stick with it, Puce! You're almost there."
Santiago vs Louis (2x4) around Spring 1947, "New Orleans!" (It makes sense that it would take Santiago longer to confront Louis, as Armand kept complaining about Louis never being around the Theatre x x)
Late 1947 / Early 1948
post-September 1947, Santiago had already stolen Claudia's diaries & passed them around to the coven; and Celeste & Estelle had already interrogated Roget about Lestat.
Did Armand know Santiago was in Louis' apartment going through their things (while Claudia would either be out with Madeleine, or at the Theatre under curfew) --
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--and did he know the coven was reading her Diaries right in front of him while Santiago & Celeste & Estelle were interrogating Roget about Lestat?
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Esp. since all of this goes down in 2x6 BEFORE Armand had even met Madeleine & Louis/Claudia asked him to Turn her!
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We know that by late 1947 / early 1948 (when Louis bought the Wols, then came home to find Claudeleine in his coffin, then took them to Armand to ask for the bite), Armand already knows that Lou & Claudia wanna do their own thing with Madz; committing the same "crime" that got Santiago's Maker killed--making a vamp without the Coven Master's permission--but ofc, Louis is NOT in Armand's coven.
Late 1948 - Early 1949
In the very next scene, we get Santiago & Sam in cahoots about Godot's projections/scripts. Patterns of behavior indicate that Armand LET this all happen, and only pretended that "the buffoon was in the audience."
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In my Timeline Pt1, I surmised that the very latest Sam could've finished the Godot script was early 1949, cuz IRL Sam Beckett wrote the play b/t October 1948 - January 1949.
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Spring - Summer 1949
So by Spring of 1949, Sam would be free to turn his attention to drafting a NEW script...for the Trial.
April 1949: Sam writes the Trial script.
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(Is it JUST his half, or is Les already awake & in Paris & writing the other half with him? OR is Les awake & just in telepathic communication with the coven, and has no idea they're asking him questions to incriminate Claudia & Louis?)
2x5 & 2x6 also give us some very important contextual dates! Loumand references a bunch of events that happened around the same time, which can help approximate when Tuan's projections were being made.
LOUIS: The Berlin Blockade ended in May. The Geneva Convention was agreed in August. Some of the front pages from that year. But if you look in the filler, in the back pages. Strange crimes reported. ARMAND: A telescopic lens stolen from the Observatory at Meudon. A film company shooting the crime thriller 'Porte D'Orient' delayed when its inventory of color film stock is snatched. LOUIS: A gang of drunkards, hanging off of the side of the Eiffel Tower, all facing south by southwest, all muttering in unison--gone by the time police arrive by elevator. ARMAND: Crimes all left unsolved.
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May 12, 1949: Berlin Blockade ends
June 21, 1949: Paris Observatory's missing lens reported stolen. (Because these are newspaper reports, we might also assume the actual time of the theft was the night before the article was published (June 20). But who knows.)
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June 23, 1949: Oriental Port color film stock reported stolen; filming delayed. (Because these are newspaper reports, we might also assume the actual theft of the events was the night before the article was published (June 22). But who knows.)
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The color film stock being stolen that delayed Oriental Port's filming is a VERY nice touch, cuz the movie was released in 1950, and was the first French film to use Agfa-Gevacolor film, which had only been available to the public since January 1949 (x x). So the film nerds at AMC really stay on top of their research! 👌
July 1949: Armand distracts Louis with library outings:
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ARMAND: Ah, July, 1949. The reading room. LOUIS: Mmm. We broke into the same library every night that month, hypnotized security, as one does, flipped the lights, laid our backs on long tables and stared up at the ceiling. ' DANIEL: Hot. ARMAND: Iron pillars holding up terracotta domes, a light trick that made the ceiling appear higher than it was. LOUIS: And why not pass a month that way? An effortless, eternal life ahead of us. Funny thing, trying to remember what occupied one's time when one was ignorant of the plotting around him.DANIEL: Grab that. LOUIS: Santiago had broken into our apartme--I'm sorry. Grab what?
Louis implies that the "plotting around him" started in July 1949--or at least, that's when HE surmised (in Dubai, NOT Paris) that Armand had "started lying to me." Ofc, 2x8 would reveal that Armand was in cahoots with the coven since jump.
We can thus assume that this was when the bulk of the projector images based on Claudia's diaries were being drawn (whenever Armand wasn't distracting Louis with dates to the library). They already have the Agfa-Gevacolor film, and the Observatory's fancy projection lens, so that Tuan can animate whatever Sam had already written for the script. "But they had their Technicolor film. Tuan Pham's wizardry with it."
And ofc, they'd want to corroborate the diaries with Lestat's own testimony. (Esp. since it's clear from Claudia's diaries that Les ISN'T dead, just thrown in the dump--cuz Claudia KNOWS the only way to be sure you've killed a vamp is to burn them, and she's mad AF that they didn't do that to Les cuz Lou freaked TF out.)
Again: did they only call Lestat after they had Claudia's diaries (once they knew there was a chance he wasn't dead after all)? The dates seem to imply that this was the case--that Armand & Santiago & co. had suspected Lestat was alive ever since 1945, but it was only until 1949 that they bothered to contact him.
Fall 1949
September 5, 1949: report of Eiffel Tower climbed by "muttering drunkards." (Because these are newspaper reports, we might also assume the actual time of the events was the night before the article was published (Sept 4). But who knows.)
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The September 5th date is the most telling: IF Armand is telling truth, this would be when the coven contacted Lestat, as seen in Tuan's projection during the Trial.
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So, IF this is the truth & S3 doesn't retcon anything, the rehearsals with Lestat would've had to have started in September, after 3 months of Tuan's prep (the thefts started in June); and 5 months of Sam's writing & Armand's edits.
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February 6, 1940 - September 5, 1949: Lestat's "state of repose" ends when the coven "wakes" him. (IF this is true, Roget was right that Les was just asleep, taking a long AF dirt nap. IF Les was awake before then, he was only motivated to come to Paris when the coven climbed the Eiffel Tower & told him the Trial was soon--likely still too emotionally damaged / psychologically injured to leave NOLA.)
Again, the big question is: what was Les up to while he was in Paris, b4 the Trial? Was he free to come & go as he pleased (in which case: why TF didn't he warn Lou?!); OR was he locked up (a la the books)?
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post-September 5, 1949: Madeleine is Turned.
Right after the scene of Dubai!Loumand describing all the "strange crimes," we get the scene of Paris!Loumand in the park, discussing Madz, right b4 she's Turned that night (Lou's in the same clothes).
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THIS is the night Armand claimed he started lying to Lou, ("They gave me a choice"). And again: we know even THAT was a lie too, cuz UNLESS Madz was turned the exact same night that Les arrived AND wrote his half of the script AND rehearsed it (meaning Les wasn't starved/tortured at all), then Armand had PLENTY of time BEFORE Madz Turned to work on the script & direct the rehearsals.
The same night of Madz's Turning, Armand moves into Louis' apartment (and Claudia's coffin 🤮), with his magnolia sprig. And speaking of plants....
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September-October-ish, 1949: Claudeleine finds the X, planting flowers outside Saint Denis.
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I assume "cold things" are the cold corpses Claudeleine is burying; that "become warm" metaphorically, when plants/flowers grow over their graves. I know nothing about autumn weather in France. Going by clothes, it looks like it's still nice & warm, cut comfy enough for light jackets. I also know nothing about flowers, or what seasons they grow in France. But apparently Claudeleine's Fall flowers are fine:
Lavender: usually stops flowering in late August or mid-September; definitely by mid-October.
Sweet Iris: has high cold resistance, and goes dormant from November - March-ish.
Peony: apparently there are regular peonies & tree peonies, and they both like colder weather--the regular ones go dormant around November. Plenty seem to be ok in Fall, up to October-ish, that you can get at nurseries. And they really like bone meal as fertilizer, omg. XD
(My headcanon wants to assume that Claudia only agreed to visit Louis in Paris either cuz it was gonna be her birthday (9/21), OR his birthday (10/4). 💔 Cuz misogynoir, I'd bet Monopoly money it was Claudia's; DOOMED by the narrative! 😭)
Late 1949 (September/October): The Trial.
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(Guys. D'you reckon those nasty theatre kids held the Trial on frikkin Halloween? 🤣)
Late 1949 (November-ish): Louis is kept buried alive in the wet room for at least 1 month after the Trial, before Armand finally pulls him out the coffin.
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The latest the Trial could've taken place is October, in order for OVER a month to have passed and the fire still happens in 1949.
VERY Late 1949 (November/December): Louis slaughters the coven, the "Great Fire of 1949" send the Theatre des Vampires up in flames. 🔥
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(The Talamasca folder in 2x3 calls it the "Great Fire;" which makes me giddy, cuz we also have the "Great Burnings" in the books, related to Akasha. I love how Akasha & Louis are paralleled, just slaughtering vamps with the Fire Gift, bless.)
1950
May 24 - June 4, 1950: The French Championship of 1950 takes place at Roland-Garros. Spoiler: the Australians lost that year. 😂
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skylermadness · 4 months ago
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Projected Reality (Hephaestus TF/MC)
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(Original Date of Upload: May 22, 2024)
Original Description:
A bit of a belated birthday gift for my beloved boyfriend. This was a story I've actually wanted to write for a little over a year now. I had first wanted to write out a Hephaestus TF around Spring of last year when I was planning out a concept that I have since long abandoned. During that time I did have a few stories that involved people I was close to, and Arti had volunteered to be used for the Hephaestus concept. Although even after the concept was scrapped I still wanted to write a story for them involving this character! A few months later it's August and Housamo finally translates the Virtual Summer Memories event. It was around this time that I finally come up with an idea for this TF, but due to a bunch of stuff happening at the time I was completely unable to follow through and the story was left unwritten for a very lengthy amount of time. It isn't until Spring of this year that I finally got the motivation to write it out as I realized I could actually use this story as my gift to Arti for their birthday! Thus, the story finally came into fruition after over a year of constantly being pushed back. Beyond that though, the actual writing process for this story was extremely fun! I love using random VR nonsense for TFs, and it was honestly extremely easy to play around with that seeing how Hephaestus' one event appearance had a lot of focus on virtual reality. Furthermore I just love using my boyfriend as a TFee, and I gladly wish them a late happy birthday! I do wish I could've written this story out earlier, but college was beating my ass at the time of early May. But I'm still very glad to have gotten this out for them! <3
   Reality is many things. Inconsistent, imperfect, unstable, and almost never lives up to your expectations. It's always ever changing, the world constantly malleable to the whims of fate. Such whims that are beyond the grasp of a mere human. That's why we here at ScybR Essence Technology believe reality should be yours to control.
   With our team of advanced scientists we have invented the next advancement in the field of virtual reality: the Hyperreality Manifold. Using a mix of our patented hardlight technology and neurolink engineering, the Manifold projects small worlds for you to spend time in. With just the single press of a button it can turn your living room into an RPG-style dungeon with you as the explorer; or your kitchen into a bustling tavern bar for you to begin a lengthy adventure in. The possibilities are endless, and the only limitations are the ones your mind would impose.
   While the Hyperreality Manifold is still in active development, pre-orders are available with prices starting at 8500 USD. We will also be releasing Lite versions of the Manifold to carefully selected individuals to test out prior to the worldwide release, with the next major Hyperreality Manifold Lite testing date being May 4. So please keep that email inbox open for any important information regarding your potential selection!
   ScybR Essence Technology: We bring the future to the present to change your reality to whatever you desire…
                                        ----------------------------------------------------------
   The advertisement on Arti’s phone proceeds to come to an end. This is perhaps the third or fourth time they've watched the strange video ever since they got that email a few days ago telling them they've been selected as a tester for this Hyperreality Manifold thing. Initially they had assumed it to be some kind of spam mail, and even after they got a tracking number for the package they weren't fully convinced it was real. But then the fourth of May had arrived, and roughly a few minutes before noon Arti had been notified their package was delivered. The open box of that package was what sat on their living room table now, and the contents of it sat beside the cardboard container. 
   “No matter how many times I watch that ad, it never sounds any less pretentious…” Arti muttered to themself as they shoved their phone back into their pants pocket. Their gaze then drifted over to the unpacked objects of their recently acquired package.
   The most important object was of course the Hyperreality Manifold. Despite the complex sounding name, all it looked to be was a simple white cube with dim gray circuit lines etched across five of its six faces. The only face without circuitry just had absolutely nothing on it. To Arti it just looked like some kind of fancy paperweight. Perhaps an expensive one too if that eight thousand five hundred dollar price mark was correct.
   The mysterious cube had also come with an instruction booklet. “At least it doesn't look like it has 40 pages worth of information I guess,” they remarked as they booked up the plain looking booklet and began to read through it.
   ‘If you are reading this then that means you have been selected to test ScybR Essence Technology’s Hyperreality Manifold. Your selection means that you have…’
   Arti could already tell the first page had absolutely nothing of value besides boring legal stuff. If they didn't read the terms and services of every website they sure aren't going to read two pages of extremely small legal text. So instead they just started to skim through the pages after to try and gleam whatever information they deemed important, talking to themselves as they did so.
   “This is only a lite version of the Manifold and comes with a pre-installed package, to attain all features for you Manifold you must buy the full version at our store, this is just more boring disclaimer stuff- oh, finally, instructions!”
   ‘The Manifold relies on a mix of physical and cognitive manipulation. To do so requires two important steps in Manifold setup. The first is to place your Neurolink Encephalon Adapter on the side of your face. After the Adapter is secured, press the blank side of the Hyperreality Manifold with two fingers. This will begin the area scanning process which should not take too long.’
   Arti stared at the instructions for a good five seconds, mild confusion already arising in their mind. “The fuck’s a Neurolink Encephalon Adapter??”
   Placing the booklet down, Arti looked back into the box, which was still full of bubble wrap, to see if they had missed anything. They plunged a hand into the box to remove the bubble wrap and they had found one last component they apparently had missed. A small plastic bag containing some kind of thin metal sheet.
   Casting aside the bubble wrap they pulled out the bag, opened it, and removed the metal sheet. It wasn't particularly wide, it was extremely thin, and it was shaped like a crescent. It had the cold gray coloration that metal, typically aluminum, tended to have. Although it also seemed to have circuit lines running through it as well.
   With a brow raised in curiosity, Arti removed their glasses for a moment so they could properly put the unremarkable metal sheet on their face. “I wonder if this'll work…” they thought aloud as they put the crescent-shaped strip around their right eye before putting their glasses back on. They then adjusted the cube on the table so that the blank side faced upwards before doing as the instructions said and pressing two fingers into it.
   Absolutely nothing seemed to happen at first. Arti was going to make a snarky comment saying, “Knew it was a useless paperweight,” but only got half the sentence out before something actually did begin to happen.
   The circuit lines on both the cube and metal sheet started to glow an orangish-yellow, and the cube itself began to float in the air. As the cube levitated it also seemed to release a bright yellow gridline wireframe that encompassed the surface area of the room they were in. 
   “Woah…” was all Arti could think to say as they looked around the room, gridlines just overlaying the walls, floor, and ceiling. “I guess it's not a hunk of metal after all.”
   An automated voice then started to speak from the cube. “Scanning complete. Room dimensions logged. Beginning psychophysical projection in five seconds. Please have any objects you wish to take to the virtual reality on your person at the time of projection. Five, four…”
   “Uhhh-” Arti vocalized, a little confused by the robotic voice’s stream of words. They decided to just pick up the instruction manual, which seemed to be a good move on their part as the moment the voice reached zero everything in the room seemed to straight up disappear. The table that was in front of them, the box the cube came in, the couch that was behind them, even the walls and doorways just blinked out of existence. All that was left was Arti, the cube, and the wireframe outline of their living room's surface area. Mildly panicked at the prospect of having their entire home sucked into some kind of virtual void, the enby looked back at the instruction manual to see what it had to say about this.
   ‘Once scanning is complete the Hyperreality Manifold will begin the psychophysical projection system. The general explanation of this system is that it will trick your senses into believing you're in a void for a few seconds. Your cube will then project the reality that is programmed into it. This projected reality will be completely interactive and will be seemingly realistic for as long as you have both the cube and neurolink active.’
   By the time Arti finished reading through that paragraph, the wireframe began to fade away as their surroundings rapidly shifted. Manifesting into the void was a menagerie of various objects. A sizable table with multiple papers and what seemed to be unfinished metalwork projects. Some kind of large cylindrical object that Arti presumed to be a furnace just manifested in the corner to the left of them. There was an even larger cylindrical object that was on its side that appeared to their right! Some kind of engine if they had to hazard a guess? Turning around they also saw a massive rectangular entranceway that opened to an alleyway. There had also seemed to be a building parallel to the one their living room transformed into. All the while the air of their room shifted, the warm indoor heating fading to the slightly cooler temperature of a room that always has access to fresh air.
   A low pulse came from the cube before it spoke again. “Psychophysical projection complete. Currently active projection: Crafters Workshop at Kamata Technical University.”
   “Okay then…” Arti responded, slowly circling around in place to take in their surroundings. They were astonished, to say the least. That cube managed to project all of this? And why does it feel so realistic? This all felt so… impossible to them.
   Logically this meant Arti’s curiosity would lead them to the newly created furnace that the cube just popped into reality. Without a second thought the enby placed a hand in the furnace for a second, felt the metal, felt the extreme heat, then retracted their hand with a slight hiss of pain. “Well I guess I know it can mimic temperature now! Hm…”
   Stepping away from the furnace, a thought began to cross Arti's mind. They looked back at the booklet with the feeling of curiosity rolling around in their brain. 
   “What else can this thing do…?” they asked themselves as they tabbed through a few more pages. It wasn't until close to the end of the booklet that they found what looked to be a page on projection editing.
   ‘While the lite version of your Hyperreality Manifold is limited to only one projection type, your projection can still be edited in various ways. These include changing the time, the season and the weather, and the color of your surroundings.’
   “Okay, that just sounds boring- oh, but what's this…”
   ‘Despite your Manifold being a trial version, we are generous enough to have included one premium feature for you to test out: the Self Manipulator. This is a highly experimental feature that allows you to alter your own physical form to fit the projection you have been provided with. Please note that this should be temporary and usually should not have any carry over to when the projection is dispelled. However due to its highly experimental nature there may still be bugs and glitches that may occur during usage. Please use with caution.’
   “Right, right,” a sly smile formed on Arti's face. What kind of caution would be needed with weird virtual projections? It'd probably be like they were wearing some weird suit or something more than anything else. Still sounds intriguing either way.
   ‘To activate the Self Manipulator, you must take hold of the Hyperreality Manifold and use a single finger to make a circular motion in the blank side. This will then display a face of the character your Manifold has been preloaded with. Then you must do one more finger press to begin the projection on yourself.’
   With that information in mind, Arti walked over towards the floating cube in the middle of the room. They placed the instruction booklet on the table among the multiple other papers littered atop it, then took hold of the cube. “Let's see what you've got…”
   They placed a finger on the blank side, then did a circular motion, and instantly the cube registered it. What was promptly displayed on the cube was the outline of a man’s face. The man had spiky hair and an equally as spiky beard, thick eyebrows, and a rather uninterested-looking expression. This was also accompanied by the cube robotically stating, “Preload selected: Hephaestus.”
   “Hephaestus, huh?” Arti remarked. “Hadn't thought of this place as a domain for a Greek god but whatever, he looks hot.”
   With that said they did the final step of long-pressing the image with a finger. The cube seemed to respond by glowing a brighter orangish-yellow before saying, “Preload accepted. Physical alterations will begin shortly. Please note this is a highly experimental feature and may result in-”
   Arti rolled their eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Skip the legal stuff or something!”
   “Physical alterations beginning. Please stand by…”
   A low heat then began to arise in Arti’s body, beginning at their core before slowly spreading further out of their body with each beat of their heart. But as the heat warmed up more and more it started to cause a secondary sensation to well up within them. One that felt like a low pressurizing feeling that entered into their practically burning chest.
   “Is it supposed to- ough-” Arti leaned forward a little as they clenched a fist over their chest. “Is it supposed to feel like that??”
   Beads of sweat started to form in their forehead as their blood continuously boiled. Their breathing steadily became a bit more labored as their chest continued to burn and a pressure continuously pushed itself onto their upper torso. They weren't sure what exactly was happening but it felt like a lot for a virtual reality to make their body experience.
   Arti was unaware of the truth behind these sensations though. That truth being their physicality seeming to alter. The heat and pressure was working in conjunction to forge new additions to the enby’s body, the first of which having obviously been in their chest.
   Typically their chest was undefined since Arti was never one to work out and put effort into building muscles. However it seemed as if with each breath they took their chest steadily expanded. Its size was just slowly increasing, previously unimpressive muscle swelling up larger with each ragged inhale. It didn't take very long for a pair of pectorals to properly formulate from the nothing of their upper torso, and each pec would only grow out larger and larger. Firm, meaty chest muscles just get pushed out even more every few seconds. Their roundness would soon even etch itself into the fabric of their undershirt, pushing open their open jacket to reveal the massive shelf that the enby had developed beneath the deep indigo of the shirt itself. Their new cleavage has indented into the shirt as well, further accentuating the pure size their chest had obtained.
   Their muscles hadn't been the only thing being changed however. One major change seemed to enter into their skin, the tone of it darkening at a rather rapid pace. Pale ivory shifted to a raw umber, and that change in tone continuously spread across the rest of the skin on their chest. All while this occurred there had also been a second major shift being introduced alongside it. Arti had usually been a pretty scarred individual, but as their transformation grew in prominence it seemed as if their scars were being altered in some way. This was most prominent is the massive scar that stretched over their upper torso, where the size of it seemed to shrink and reshape. This alteration seemed to be centered at the exact middle of their chest as the longest points of the scar retreated into that area. In the end the scar would just become a still rather sizable one that was etched into the middle of their chest and over the inner sections of their pectorals.
   Arti had been subjected to the feeling of their skin brushing up against their now much more ill-fitting shirt. A feeling that had been increased as they felt their abdominal region churn and their shoulders ache. “I-it’s working! I think-” they said, although a mild hesitation was present in their voice. They weren't going to deny this felt extremely weird, especially since it was changing them at such a fundamental level. But also they couldn't deny that this had all felt rather… nice.
   The lower end of their torso hadn't been left out as while Arti was in the middle of their internal musing, their abdomen entered a process of bulking itself up as well. Intense heat mixed with a burgeoning feeling of strength just churned around in their gut. This was followed by their abdomen bubbling as hardened muscles started to properly formulate. Abs then routinely jutted out at a somewhat rapid pace, a firm six-pack properly forming out of their previously flat stomach area. It was also at this point that Arti’s form seemed to widen almost, their width ever so slowly increasing to accommodate their much thicker muscles. 
   That increase in wideness mainly came due to an alteration in the enby’s very bone structure. While much of their structure had remained similar during the course of their bodily expansion, there was one major portion of the skeletal region of their torso that had a more severe change. As the changes moved away from the front half of their body and onto the back, there had been a menagerie of shifts that came to it. Trapezius muscles bulging in size, the sides of their body burning a bit as their oblique muscles improved. The changes in their skin tone continued to wash across their form as multiple scars formed behind them. But soon enough everything started to centalize towards one major segment of their back: the spine.
   A slightly pained (and seemingly deeper) moan escaped Arti’s throat as something surged into the discs of their spinal column. “The hell…”
   There was a strange occurrence that happened within the bone structure. While it seemed to elongate in size, practically adding inches to Arti’s height, there had been a more alarming addition to that change. That being, Arti could no longer stand up straight. A prominent curvature was etched into the top end of their spinal column, an extremely noticeable hunch being added to them as a result. 
   “Ch-changing a lot about…” Arti started to idly comment before halting their statement. “My… voice…”
   Already their voice had begun a process of deepening. Although while it still had a specific tone that it could still be recognized as Arti to some capacity, there was still a steady amount of lowness entering it that wasn't there prior. Although they didn't have too much time to focus on any of that as they heard the sound of ripping come from… a lot of places, really, but mainly around their arms.
   While all the previous portions of the transformation were occuring, there had been a concurrent series of changes entering their arms. It had initially started at their shoulders as the changes in muscles and melanin had entered that area first. Size increased rapidly as a rigid roundness formed in them thanks to the rapid formulation of their deltoids. All while their enlargement caused the overall boradness of the enby to increase a bit more. Then there had been the manifestation of a few relatively large scars over the top portion of both shoulders.
   A few more scars then etched across the upper half of Arti's arms. This had been in conjunction with even more growths in muscle mass as strength and warmth constantly cycled around each limb. Biceps bulged out alongside the thickening of their triceps, and the growth in size was already becoming enough to rub up into both their undershirt and jacket. The ridges of their massive musculature just etching into the fabric more and more. It wouldn't take long until it forced their sleeves to reach a limit in the attempt to stretch over their arms.
   This would be further proven as the circumference of their elbows widened before the muscle enhancements jumped to the forearms. Extensors burned with an almost instantaneous workout as muscle mass continuously swelled up within them. The ends of their sleeves rode up their arms more and more as the bones in their arms seemed to lengthen. Meanwhile as the diameter of their arms practically doubled it caused their watch to just snap off their arm. All the while even more scars manifested across their arms, including a really large one on their right arm.
   Things didn't take long to move beyond their wrist and onto their hands. The size of both hands practically doubled as a chunky meatiness entered them, increasing their thickness to a point that it was consistent with their muscular form. This was quite tangible when it came with their fingers and all of them swelled into sausages while lengthening for consistency and blunting a bit at the end. A slight itch entered their palms as they hardened with callouses, accompanied by scarring on both the front and back of their hands. This had also come with the completion of the darkening of their skin, at least on a majority of the upper half of their body.
   Of course, with all of this muscle mass constantly vying for attention on Arti’s clothing it meant that the limits of the fabric would easily be reached. Their jacket suffered multiple tears thanks to their broader back and thicker arms. Their undershirt experienced a must worst fate however as rips continuously etched across the front, back, and sleeves thanks to how much raw muscle it had been containing this entire time. And while it wasn't completely torn apart, it very much was ripped to tatters. This was what Arti’s focus had been drawn to, while also meant they had been given a relatively easy view of their much brawnier form.
   A shocked expression formed on Arti’s face at the sight. “My skin- my scars?! I-I thought it was just going to be th-the muscles!”
   After saying that, Arti cleared their throat. Their voice had still been shifting more and more, deepness continued to form into it to a point that what sounded like Arti and what sounded like their new form was getting blurred. “Uurgh, this is… a-a lot…”
   It was definitely a bit overwhelming. Arti had expected some weird suiting experience but the fact that this VR technology seemed to have the capability to make them physically feel and witness the changes was… Arti didn't know how to describe it. Impressive? Mildly terrifying? And truthfully it made their head hurt a little.
   However their internal concerns were interrupted by the Manifold speaking suddenly. “It is advised that you stabilize yourself.”
   “Uhhh, wha…?” Arti raised a brow. Looking to their right they still had the railing of that massive engine, so they decided to reach out a hand and clasp onto it. “J-jeez, my hand is big- WOAH-”
   The lower half of their legs went numb in that instant.
   The transformation never halts, and all while they were thinking it just continuously progressed down to their lower body. Their belt had strained against their hips as their waist rapidly gained a wideness appropriate for their new form. Meanwhile their pants began their process of becoming rapidly undersized. This was mainly in due part because of the muscles in their thighs expanding. Quadriceps and hamstrings bulged and widened while the amount of scars that surrounded them multiplied quite a bit. It was enough to yet again cause their newly defined legs to push up against their legwear by quite a bit.
   The numbness didn't start until the changes had reached the halfway point of their legs, around the level of where their knees were. This feeling was then followed by the feeling of something cold within the entire crus of their legs. “W-why is…?”
   The answer to their half-inquiry was an easy one. Beneath the knee, instead of the pigmentation of their skin shifting, the very structure of it had changed instead. Flesh hardened, cells reformed at the atomic level, and a cold metallic sheen encapsulated the entirety of their lower legs. It didn't stop at the skin either as the internal workings of their legs were mechanized as well. All the while their diameters were becoming larger, and the length of them increased to give Arti a bit more height. This was followed by the frontal portions of their pants bursting open as the front half of their metallic legs gained armor-like plating to them, most noticeably a knee-guard that went over their still organic knee. 
   “P… prosthetics…?” Arti questioned. Indeed, the lower half of their legs seemed to have become some kind of robotic prosthetic. That didn't even seem to be the end of it as once the metal reached their ankle region it seemed to shrink a bit into a thick metallic pillar that was connected to the rest of the prosthetic. This also allowed some wires to expose themselves as they slithered down to the connect to the last region of their lower body: their feet.
   Art’s feet underwent a similar transformation to that of their leg’s crus, that being the envelopment by the constant formation of metal. Although as each foot grew in size the internals seemed to hollow out a fair bit, only having minimal internal systems that connected to their legs. Various regions became a layer of playing such as their feet’s instep and bridge. Meanwhile their toes, while thickening, gained a segmented appearance to them with the areas of segmenting glowing a faint orange. Of course with their feet growing in size and becoming a clunky bit of metal it meant the Arti’s footwear stood no chance against the transforming appendages. Thus their toes burst from the toecap of their shoes before being followed by the sides ripping apart to reveal even more of their metallic feet.
   “Oookay,” Arti started, breaths slowing to a more stable pace of breathing. They could feel whatever remains of their shirt’s neck just splitting apart as their neck thickened into a hefty and scarred trunk. This coupled with the rapid changes in their vocal cords left their voice completely unrecognizable of what it once was. It had become deep, masculine, and had a certain tone of bluntness mixed with a vibe that had a strange lack of confidence in itself. 
   “I-I guess all that leaves is my head?” Arti said with a weak grin. They felt a bit tired at this point, and oddly confused. The weird confusions and worries about this body had mostly faded into more concerning thoughts about themselves. They had a moment where they felt perfectly fine with it but now that was being subsided with a strange amount of self-consciousness that they don't think they've experienced before. Was it the prosthetics, or the scars, or that spontaneously granted hunch in their back? “Uurgh, why am I… th-thinking these thoughts…” they placed a massive hand on the side of their head. “Mind f-feeling… muddy…”
   They blinked a few times as their typically blue irises started to glow a reddish-orange. This was coupled by an odd heat entering the right side of their face, the metal of their Neurolink starting to glow as if it were in a furnace of some kind. “A-ahh…”
   The raw umber tone cascaded upwards from their neck and began overlaying their face. A couple clicks and cracks escaped from their skull as it began to restructure itself, becoming larger in size while reshaping into a more rectangular shape. This was accentuated by their jawline broadening and chiseling into a more square-like formation. Fuzz then began to poke out of their face, starting at the base of their chin and above their upper lip before quickly spreading across their entire jawline. As it grew the fuzz that was on their jaw thickened, a spiky-style of facial hair being born from that thickening. Pointed clumps of beard hair just poking out in various directions based on the placement on their face. Although it did result in a rather thick and fluffy beard that adorned their shifting face.
   Of course as their beard formed there had been other features of their face that shifted as well. Their nose became a bit more angular as the dorsum of it broadened and became rectangular. Their eyebrows thickened into large bushes as the hairs on them became a deep black and the furthest ends of them became a bit pointed. Then came the various scars that formed across their face. One over their left brow, one that slashed into a small bit of the left side of their beard, and a few scars that ran across the left side of their head and neck.
   The most major of changes came with their hair however. A deep red had overtaken the typically indigo coloration as the follicles had quickly undergone the process of shortening themselves. Long flowing locks of hair retracting into their scalp, meanwhile at the sides of their head the fluff would practically shave itself down to a buzz. The top of their head was different however as once it reached a sufficient length it began to heavily restyle itself. Fluffy hairs mixing together into more rigid clumps that had a certain look of messy spikiness to them that granted their hair an almost flame-like appearance. Such a change ran from the apex of their head down to the back, the new style only being describable as a messy, fiery fauxhawk.
   “Mmff…” they moaned, head continuing to pound with strange thoughts and memories that they hadn't had before. The familiarity of this place was becoming overwhelming, and his negative self-image of himself was growing. Wasn't he a different person a few minutes ago? Why does it feel like he's always been like this?! “I-I’m… A… whuh…”
   He blinked a few times. He's forgetting something crucial. He could've sworn his name was on the tip of his tongue. 
   “Finalizing Hephaestus Protocol…” the cube said from a few feet away.
   “R-right, I'm… Hephaestus…” such an admission felt weird to him. Like he was still forgetting something major. “W-why does that cube look like the ones from my Antibody P-program…?”
   Hephaestus stopped clinging to the engine’s railing, then stepped forward before momentarily losing balancing and stumbling. His brain feels a bit out of sync with his prosthetics for some reason. Like he's not used to them just yet, although his mind is on the cusp of familiarity with them. “Ugh, c-come on!”
   He stabilizes himself and steps forward again, oddly unaware of his ripped up clothing or the fact that it was now in the process of fixing itself. His undershirt seemed to completely slip off his body before dissipating into nothingness. Meanwhile his jacket remained, resizing to fit his bigger form while restitching itself to seal all the holes that his growth had caused. The lower ends of the jacket seemed to merge with his pants somehow, followed by the material of both that and the legwear shifting into a harder and more leathery texture. This had also caused the generally indigo shading of his clothing to shift to a brownish-gray instead. The jacket’s lapel shrunk away as the collar raised and folded into a different type of collar. Meanwhile the jacket’s split formed metallic teeth that trailed down to meet with his pants zipper.
   Changes soon began to ramp up. Sleeves rolled themselves up to his elbows while both pant legs rolled up to his knees, which had revealed the ruddy white interior of his new jumpsuit. Shoulder and breast pockets formed out from the material, and one of the breast pockets came pre-packed with a bunch of pens. Orange highlights also formed on the apex of the jumpsuit, alongside a series of diagonal orange stripes on the left leg that came with the name ‘KAMATA’ printed beneath them. His belt had somehow not been merged into the leather and instead bulked up before a bunch of pouches materialized to hang from it. All of these pouches came pre-packed as well, although this time with a large array of tools. Lastly came his footwear, shoes fixing themselves up before enlarging to fit his new feet. The deep blue tone shifted to brown while the tongue became orange, held down by orange and white shoe strings that crossed each other multiple times. While the bottom of each shoe became a messy white rubber, the cap of both of them ballooned into a hardened steel toe exterior. But perhaps the weirdest of any of these changes would come to the neurolink as the almost superheated orange came to its final culmination: igniting itself into a burst of flames. An eternal flame just casually engulfs the side of Hephaestus' face, and he doesn't even do so much as to react to it. All he feels is the nice warmth of it layer onto his body.
   The heavy steps of Hephaestus’ new footwear echoed through the air of the workspace as the man finally managed to lumber over to the cube. “S-strange, I don't recall ever making a ph-physical version of these…” he remarked as he took hold of the cube. He would analyze it for a few seconds before casually tapping the side with his own face on it. “What are you-”
   “The blank side has been doubled tapped,” the cube interrupted. “Disengaging Manifold.”
   Then in just seconds the entirety of the Kamata Technical University's Workshop seems to dispel like some kind of hologram in front of Hephaestus' eyes. He watches in a mix of vivid curiosity and concern. “W-what the fuck-” was the only thing he stammered out as a reaction. In mere moments the familiarity is lost to him as the workshop his brain has numerous memories of is lost, instead taking on the appearance of some kind of living room.
   “Manifold disengaged,” the cube in his hand said. “Please allow thirty minutes of downtime to recharge systems.”
   “Manifold?” Hephaestus asked, tilting his head in curiosity. “It was able to c-create some kind of virtual simulation of Kamata. Maybe-”
   Something then buzzed in a back pocket of the lower portion of his jumpsuit. Hephaestus lets out a startled yelp before panickedly patting around the location and pulling out some kind of smartphone. Although it looked nothing like the one he usually used. “Wha- who's is- huh??”
   Turning on the phone the man was greeted with a single text message displaying on the screen.
   MikeS💛
   Leaving work soon! Looking forward to seeing that cube thing you said you got :3
   Hephaestus' eyes narrowed as he looked at the screen. “Mike…?” He then turned his head towards the Manifold. “Cube thing. Hm…”
   Gears began to turn in his mind. He'd probably be able to reverse engineer this Manifold in order to properly learn how it functioned. Perhaps he could even manipulate it to such a manner he could make it do what he wanted. What exactly the limitations of that are, he wasn't quite sure yet, but that's why he's going to look into the make of it in the first place! And as for that Mike guy, well… he isn't opposed to having one or two live test subjects for this.
   A slight smile formed on Hephaestus’ face at the thought of that. This was accompanied by a single stray thought: he's going to have to find a way to bring Talos here with this thing.
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ch4rryc0smos · 3 months ago
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I WOULD RIP MYSELF APART / IF IT WAS GONNA HEAL YOUR SOUL ! — BREAK MY HEART | MATT HANSEN.
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── .☘︎ ❝ M A R I O N V A L E N T I N E R O S E V E L T . ❞
𖦹 — xx | cancer | infj | british ⏳
appearance ; pale skin with freckles over shoulders and face, mole under the right corner of her bottom lip, forest green eyes, 5'11 [180 cm], athletic [or sleeper] build. barely noticeable scars on hands and knees, scars over most of her body, most visible on back. dimples when she smiles hard. dimples on her back when she stretches. ombre [brown-blonde] hair.
beliefs ; things happen for a reason. lingering on what is done does not change it. made of stardust, why do you let yourself burn out? you exist infinitely, in all things, do not forget yourself.
⋆ ─ life will love you, if only you love yourself first. it is there for you to live, so don't just exist. ⋆ ─ your heart is beautiful, even when you think it is not, it is fragile, and you must tend to it, tape those cracks back together, and live.
personality ; gentle, intuitive, charismatic, vigilant, observant, meticulous, calm, collected, diligent, loving, realist, nurturing.
positive traits ; compassionate, selfless, empathetic, kind, voice of reason, accountable, notices other's emotions & fluctuations in behaviour[s].
negative traits ; anxious, bottles up her emotions, skeptic [has trust issues], struggles with boundaries, overworks, cares too hard.
quirks ; fidgets all the time | stutters when nervous | bounces from heel to heel when waiting in queues | gets louder and faster when talking about passions | has an oral fixation | tilts her head when she's focusing.
likes ; nature, psychology, sociology, anthropology, freedom of speech, anarchy, deep conversations, late-night car rides, coffee, biology [many branches of it], museums, gardens, aquariums, deers, red pandas, art of living, art donaldson.
dislikes ; arthropods, heights, loud noises, narrow-mindedness, extreme temperatures, snobby people, arrogance, dishonesty, being under pressure, confrontation, disorganised places.
deepest secrets ; just wants to be someone's first choice, wants to be the person someone chooses to share their joy with first, wants to be seen for more than whatever is seen at first glance.
⋆ ─ she's always wanted the best for everyone around her, she thinks she owes them that, and tries to supplement a need that was never fulfilled for her. ⋆ ─ she hates big expensive parties, all thanks to her parents hosting them.
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── .☘︎ ❝ B A C K S T O R Y . ❞
ORIGINALLY from manchester, u.k, marion rosevelt is born to two rich parents, with the world in their hands, and power in their hearts. she grows up, a spitting image of the perfect prodigy she is expected to be, she is born into the world and from the moment she learns how to walk, the expectations pile on her shoulders.
she grows up, studying in the most esteemed schools in london, having moved there early on so she could receive the best education. she was forced to attend parties, receptions, every event her parents could think of, she was not allowed to befriend just about anyone.
she spent a lifetime having her life nitpicked by the second. everything she'd ever know about herself seemed to be a lie. at least that's how it seemed until one faithful business dinner. sitting awkwardly in her seat, she stared ahead at her untouched plate. nothing about the adults piquing her interest until a daughter is mentioned. a young girl, much like herself.
she finally listens, learns about this tashi, who is promised to meet her the next time mr. duncan (she learnt is his name) visited. and he became the only adult to have ever kept a promise, with marion. so, the next summer, her life finally felt like flowers that blossomed in the spring and not the dried up leaves that scattered the pavements in autumn. she met tashi, tan skin, eyes filled with the same warmth her movements radiated.
for the first time, marion has a friend, a friend who actually likes her too. who she likes as well. it felt like a dream. even more so when tashi somehow convinced her father to take marion along to the u.s. wildly enough, she's never travelled anywhere else. and from going to the u.s for vacation, it turned to her father having a staple business there, to living there for months on end, if possible.
she moved schools many a times, never bothering to befriend people because she knew she'd get hurt when she did finally leave. but just one time, at fifteen, probably one of the worst years of her life, she made a mistake, of not ignoring her seatmate, who for once, wasn't tashi duncan, her best friend. instead it was, art donaldson. who somehow, someway, found his way into her guarded heart.
the rosevelts never liked him, but she did. it didn't last long though. she should've known, she bared her heart, and all that happened was that it broke. and tashi was there, to console her, but her parents thought her a fool.
she tried to not think of the blond boy that used to sit next to her in physics and biology, the one who'd share his food with her, the one who somehow was the only other person (other than tashi) to know when she wasn't feeling her best.
the years passed, and soon enough, she had graduated, simultaneously moving between the u.s and u.k. but then tashi wanted to move back to the u.s for university full time, or as she called it, college. she wanted to go to stanford, play tennis professionally soon. marion didn't want to be left alone again.
when she finally moves to the u.s full time, along with tashi. the last person she expects to run into is art donaldson.
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── .☘︎ ❝ C U R R E N T . ❞
ONLY second best to someone like tashi, marion rosevelt takes the world by storm. from her first year at stanford, she's been the one to look up to academically, the one to be. she came from the u.k, and she has the u.s wrapped around her little finger, they say. but they don't know the truth. tashi does, and she scoffs every time her best friend gets catcalled.
of the many things marion might've expected while studying at stanford, the last would've been to run into art donaldson again. something about seeing him in statistics, and noticing him walking with this other guy she'd learnt from tashi is called patrick zweig, it tugs at her heart strings.
she tries to put it off, every time in class when their eyes meet, when tashi takes her to tennis games, when she's cheering on her best friend. and the one time she noticed he was cheering on her too. marion doesn't know how to feel. especially about the way patrick keeps on grinning at art, about tashi. marion's best friend. the looks don't feel right.
and she vows that the next time she sees him do that, she'll punch him back into his place. she hopes she won't have to see him again, but then tashi has a party, she's been sponsored by adidas, and for some reason, despite knowing that marion values her scores and her peace, she forces her to accompany her.
the boys (art and patrick) approach tashi, marion's noticed them staring, they'd been doing it the whole night. she scowls every time. she leaves her best friend alone for just a second to get a refill, and when she's back, tashi's gone off somewhere, and when she finds her, she's talking to art and the guy he's always with for some reason. it's like art and patrick are connected at the hip.
marion builds up the courage and finally approaches the back of the mop of strawberry blond hair. she taps on his shoulder. he turns back, and her heart is suddenly stuck in her throat, but she ignores it and smiles at tashi, averting her gaze.
that night, she has to accompany tashi, and the boys to the beach. her best friend practically has them dancing around her finger, hearts in their eyes. something about the way art looks as he smokes and grins, while marion is sitting away on the sand, further away. the way she looks away every time his blue eyes meet hers, she can't bear to keep on looking.
she doesn't want to stay a second longer, but then tashi agrees to come over when the two ask for her number, and marion doesn't trust the dorms that aren't theirs. so she walks her best friend to their door, leans on the wall beside her and tries not to laugh when she hears all the scrambling, the yells of 'oh shit!' and a few things dropping.
and then the door swings open, two breathless boys, a brunette and a blond, staring, lips parted, at her best friend. she tries to shrink into the wall. thankfully for her, they don't seem to notice. she doesn't know what tashi does in there, but she doesn't leave, she stays.
waits.
her best friend walks out, grinning, lips red. marion eyes her up and down. tashi mentions art, blond boy, whatever. tells marion that she knows her eyes have been on him since the first time she noticed him around campus.
marion doesn't say anything, she isn't forced to, not until she visits art's games with tashi, finding out that the latter had made some bet with the boys, and now she's going out with patrick. that leaves marion in an awkward position, lots of time alone, with art.
but something about their silence feels natural, something about him is so alluring, all these years later, well, three. but still, ever the charming.
apparently, all of this is in tashi's plans, that's what marion finds out one night, but she can't care to complain, not when she's with him.
not when she can have him for more than a just a few fleeting moments. when her arms can hold him, and he lets her.
she can learn to have him around again, and she will.
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── .☘︎ appears in selcouth [complete], scent of summer [complete].
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★ ; finally another s/i post, thought i could push out two, but i BARELY managed this one, not even kidding, one of my friends watched me make practically the whole thing, you can ask them. this is mad, i'm telling you, but anyway, meet marion <3 i love her.
ch4rryc0smos © 2024
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healerqueen · 4 months ago
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The Chronicles of Narnia: 5, 7, 8, 11, 15
5. do you have a favorite character? who?
I love so many Narnia characters so much, but I think Lucy and Aslan are my very favorites. They're just so special. There's something profound about Lucy's joy and delight in Narnia and Aslan, and in Aslan's character. I had a special liking for Caspian growing up, but I don't love him more than other special characters now. (Though I enjoy reading about him even now. I just started rereading The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.)
7. how does the story compare to your initial impressions of it? has it surprised you yet? how? I first read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe when I was 8 years old, so I don't remember my first impression of that book or a couple of the others. I distinctly remember my first experience with some of them, though. I think my liking for all of them has only grown over the years, and I haven't fallen out of love with them. I remember sneaking downstairs to eavesdrop when my mom was reading aloud The Magician's Nephew to my older sister in the evenings. I was creeped out by it at the time, and was disturbed again when I read the book for myself. I like it better now, and I appreciate the beautiful parts of Magician's Nephew as well as the chilling ones. It was good to discover the wonder in that book later on. But I like it just a hair less than the other books. As for The Last Battle, I have a definite answer for this one. I first read it when I was 12 years old, and I didn't enjoy it quite as much because it's a tragedy. I also didn't like Tirian, probably because of what he did to save his friend at the beginning of the book and also because I wanted him to be like Caspian and Rilian, and he wasn't. Since then, after rereading the book and hearing @thejoyousjester talk about it, I've changed my mind about The Last Battle and about Tirian too. I think it's beautiful, even when it's uncomfortable. And I think Tirian is actually more likeable, noble, and admirable than his predecessors, a man of good character to the core, and the kind of character I value most of all. 8. what questions are or were you most excited to learn the answers to while experiencing the story for the first time?
I remember reading the first chapter of The Horse and His Boy for the first time, which was a huge event and very exciting to me. I didn't know what to expect, but I knew something big was happening when the Tarkaan showed up riding his horse. I think I was also riveted by the moonlit horseback chase scene with the lions. As the adventure unfolded, I'm sure I remained excited to find out what would happen. 11. if you were put in the main character's position, how well would that go for you on a scale of 1-5?
I think I have Lucy's wonder and joy, but like Susan, I might not have enough of an adventurous spirit to enjoy exploring an unfamiliar world. @thejoyousjester tells me I'm like Jill in all the best ways, which is an honor, since I always admired Jill (especially in The Last Battle). I think I would remain steadfast when tested and endure hardship willingly. And I think a love for Aslan would drive me. I hope I'd do as well as the main characters would. Perhaps a 4? 15. what time are you most likely to be found reading/watching this story? (time of year, time of day, season of life, whatever makes sense to you)
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe: winter or spring Prince Caspian, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, and The Horse and His Boy: summer (I'm currently squeezing in a VODT reread before we really get into fall.) The Silver Chair: late fall/early winter (I'm planning a reread soon.)
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sys128 · 2 years ago
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May 2023 is here!
Well, it is the start of a new month again, after having been so used to the fact that the previous one was in session. So, what is going to be in store for this month? One thing I did know for sure is that it started with rain! Cool, I like the rain. But that can happen on any old spring or summer day… The more I thought about it, the more I noticed what was going to happen this month. It is actually going to be decently eventful! It is not that surprising considering that I am going to be graduating soon.
This is the part of the year where more fun things happen, such as going on field trips and congratulating your fellow colleagues at school how well of a job they did on school work for the year, or on how much they TRIED to do work; depends. When this is mixed with graduation, then things can get VERY interesting. The first things I have to endure this month are my AP exams for Calculus and English. I could have taken the one on computer science, but by the time I found out that the computer science test was even a thing, it was already FAR too late. I have my tests on the 8th and the 9th of the month. From what I am hearing about AP exams, it sounds like it feels like purgatory in there. You are not permitted to tell the time at all, so you never truly know how much time you have left on a test before moving on to the next thing. And some of these tests can stretch on for multiple hours, so you better not be falling asleep during that period of time. Overall, I think I am gonna turn out okay by the end of exams, but not without some minor internal-clock and MAJOR boredom problems throughout.
But AP exams are likely to be the worst part about the month of May, because I am going to be rewarded with a bunch of cool stuff, just for being either a senior or smart at one point. I have an honors ceremony to attend on the 10th, where I am receiving… something related to college. I am not gonna expect it to be much, but something like a full-ride scholarship only happens with the top-dogs or whatever, and I am not THAT good. Probably like, a $2,000 scholarship tops.
There are three field trips that I am going to be attending by the end of the school year, and two of which are in May. They are both not terribly big but they are good enough to give free time away from any responsibility, and give some memories afterward. I’m all for that kind of thing. The first one is physics related, some sort of university-level physics lab not terribly far from here. This will happen on the 15th. The second field trip is a visit to a tech college, which is funny enough, one that I have already been accepted into and going to attend once I have the funds. This would mark the third time I visited that exact college too. The first was in 2019, and the second was early 2022, I think? I just know it happened twice before. This trip will occur on the 25th. The third field trip will leak into June, but I don’t care. I wanna talk about it still. This one is only occurring because I am a senior and I get to get spoiled by the school district administration… only joking. For real, though, this is a trip up north to a waterpark. These kinds of trips seem pretty common, actually. I was surprised to know that a bunch of people I know on Discord are also getting these same kinds of trips. This will occur on June 1st.
Back to the inside of school, the rest of the seems-fun stuff that will happen during this month is either not that big or expected, just some more interesting units, including a swim unit in my Phy Ed class, and a surprise in Calculus. I still am kinda peeved at my teachers for keeping it a secret. :/ Of course, there is also the graduation procedure, the rehearsal, the ceremony; seen it, done that – well, not yet, technically.
Other than that, yea, that is pretty much how my month is gonna go. The summer might either suck or be pretty chill. It depends on how I am gonna get the money I need to go to college. My mom wants me to work retail, but nah, I wanna be in a position where I can say “Screw that” and do something more enjoyable than retail. Thankfully, options are opening up, with the side effect of being done online, because my productivity is horrible online unless I have a drum and bass playlist in the background with minimal distractions. One of my friends wants to collaborate with me to make some stock videos like geometric animations and stuff like that and split the profits. It sounds like kind of a neat idea, but we would need to research good price-points and stuff, because they can’t be too cheap or too pricy. In case that doesn’t work out and I absolutely HAVE to do retail, then I want it to be something remotely tech related, even if it is still at a desk for a few hours to make sure a site doesn’t go down, because I don’t want to dabble into something that I am ultimately not interested in, such as fast food. My experience with fast food so far has been pretty rubbish. Managers can make or break the entire thing. This not only goes to fast food places, but also to retail stores. My parents also know that from experience. But I am only gonna be an 18-year-old who just got out of high school, and there isn’t gonna be anything like that. But there is one more option I could endeavor, which is just apply for more scholarships, which I was technically supposed to do this entire year, but I just didn’t for some reason, and got caught up still doing kid things.
That is for future me to get stressed out on. For now though, I should just try to enjoy the fact that I am living through what could potentially be the best month of 2023 thus far. In before this all ages horribly, things do a complete 180, and I go through some mental turmoil.
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acesydneysage · 3 years ago
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Gathering my sydrian prompts in one post
Some of these were originally directed at people who asked for prompts, and others were AU ideas, so they go from extremely vague to way too detailed. I'm copying them all here for my own convenience, but if anybody is interested, please go ahead and use them, and let me know you did.
Any character's reaction to finding out about sydrian that we haven't seen. Specifically Abe, specially if they're present being adorable. Sydney sassing Abe is a bonus. I really wish we'd gotten more reactions.
Just Sydney and Adrian going around solving supernatural mysteries and being a cute couple
Bring Hopper back, somehow
Sydrian being good parents! I made one post in my sydrian tag about them adopting a bunch of kids and one about Adrian dressing Declan up as mini Adrian for events.
I know it's January August, but Halloween is a sydrian thing, so have them dress up as Gomez and Morticia (I also have a post about that lol). Maybe next Halloween they can be Westley and Buttercup
Adrian's pov on romantic scenes from the first books. The Golden Lily has so much angst potential, with how he's realizing he's falling for someone who was taught to believe he's evil, and The Indigo Spell has some amazing scenes.
People finding out about Sydney's magic. I think the existence of witches would probably be a bigger deal when Moroi found out about it.
Sydney's mom and Carly finding her, and discovering that she's married and everything else
Vow renewal ceremony with all the friends who couldn't be at the wedding. Maybe Declan carrying Hopper on a red pillow as he carries the rings.
Alt ending where they go to whatever escape plan of theirs is your favorite
Alt ending where they lead a rebellion against the alchemists, effect large scale change with the witches and ex-alchemists' help and liberate more reeducation centers
AU where Adrian is an architect who wants to do insane, impossible things and Sydney is an engineer who tries to make him be reasonable, or tries to make it work
Similarly, writer/editor AU
Childhood friends AU. I think his family could have an estate close to Sydney's house and they see each other every summer. They never mention their ties to the supernatural, and as Sydney gets older she's in denial about the fact that her friend is obviously a Moroi, and therefore she should stop being his friend. That interrogation scene in Last Sacrifice is the first time Adrian saw her in a few years, and that's how he finds out she's an Alchemist, and by them he knows about Alchemists' beliefs.
Childhood rivals AU
All human AU where he helps her dismantle the cult her dad leads
Trying to explain to her human friends from Palm Springs that she didn't marry her brother
Paint fights. I like them.
Neil comes back, and they get scared that he wants Declan back
Dealing with Sydney's PTSD and Adrian's mental health, preferably ending in hopeful note, with healthy coping mechanisms and communication
AU where Sydney is a mechanic working for her mom and Adrian finds excuses to come over, and let's her drive the Ivashkinator.
Regency fake marriage AU where they elope so Sydney won't have to marry a creep Jared tried to set her up with, and then they mutually pine
Art thieves au, either Sydney is the investigator, or they're a team, or one evolving into the other
AU where Sydney is living with her recently widowed sister Carly, after her husband Keith died suddenly, and she just happens to be an expert on poisons. The life expectancy of abusive husbands drops sharply. Adrian starts to figure it out, but he's moved tohelp her get away instead of turning her in.
That last one could be paired with a pen-pals AU, where they become close friends and develop feelings through letters but don't really know each others' identity. I think it could start with Sydney requesting a book she needs, and Adrian sends it to her with a quippy note, and in her thank you letter she can't stop herself from making a thinly veiled sarcastic reply. They keep up the back and forth because they find each other funny. I can maybe insert bi!Adrian into the narrative by not having him know she's a woman, and just trying to very subtly suss out if his pen pal might be into men. If they end up in the same city (like if you pair it with the one above) being convinced that she's a male researcher could justify why he doesn't figure out that she's his pen pal when it starts getting obvious.
Silver Shadows Fake marriage AU where Lissa is right and the wedding in Silver Shadows was just to protect her. I think I might have a longer post on that already. Sydney was sent to re-education for something else, and Adrian breaks her out. They love each other but aren't couple, and he doesn't wnt her to be with him out of gratitude, while she feels bad about how she rejected him,or for the things she said in re-education. When they leave court to find Jill they keep finding excuses for why they have to keep up the fake marriage.
Old Hollywood fake marriage AU where Adrian's reputation is in danger (maybe because he's bi and his break up with his last boyfrind got some attention, causing speculation), so the studio has him marry Sydney for good publicity. Maybe late 1940's, early 50's? I initially thought Sydney could be screenwriter struggling to get proper credit for her work as woman, but actually, it would be just like Sydney to start taking on a lot of jobs and managing everything, becoming a de facto producer who had to learn everything on the job and gets no credit.
Youtuber AU where Adrian watches Sydney's art history video to pass a test, and he keeps watching her talk about any nerd topic because he likes her, and her excitement about knowledge is cute. She watches Adrian and Rowena's art channel, and loves seeing him paint and how passionate he is about it. I just really like how they make heart eyes at each other whenever one of them is passionate about something in the books. Cassie can have a cooking channel, and teach Adrian how to cook for their first date.
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blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years ago
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No “wine-ing”: a season of ice and fire
A lot of you dropped very kind messages about my well being and I’m happy to say that my recovery from Covid is firmly on track and I’m close to full strength again. My exhaustion and tiredness has thankfully been ebbing away. I’m back running my daily 5 km before I start my work day and cycling to get back to full fitness.
So I managed to escape Paris before the travel lockdown and curfew was imposed before April 26. I’m  a country girl at heart and I’ve always felt a little uncomfortable in big cities. I love Paris but I also get tired of it quite easily. So I headed to the chateau vineyard where I thought I could complete my recovery from my Covid illness and work remotely (the work never stops) without too many distractions. 
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Unfortunately - or fortunately as I prefer to see it - I was mud deep in trying to rescue our wine harvest for 2021 as frost struck over a few nights that left us reeling, and left much of the country’s wine growing region devastated. No region of France was spared as French wine producers fought valiantly over several nights to stop the frost from letting the buds finally come out to sprout. Wine makers fought with everything they could think of, and in the end resorted to fire to keep the temperature warm enough for the vines to survive the cold snap. It was a spectacular sight all across the horizons of many French wine growing regions including ours.
I’m just thankful to be there at the right place and the right time to help out.
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I enjoy coming down to our chateau vineyard as it’s a welcome contrast to the busy city life of Paris. I just couldn’t wait to get dressed up (or dress down?) in tatty old clothing, rolling up my sleeves, and getting my hands dirty with any physical chores to do around the vineyard. I always have this urge to make myself useful instead being stuck behind a desk, bored to death in Zoom call meetings. I was looking forward to running and cycling in the open country air to bust a gut or two.
Mostly though I was looking forward to enjoying home cooked country food, be in the fun company of my two Anglo-Norwegian cousins and their French families, and together we’d be preening over the first shoots of the forthcoming wine harvest for 2021.
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It is always an emotional moment at this time of year when we see in the vineyards the glistening tears of the vines (‘les pleurs’) that tell us that the new vintage is underway. As the temperatures rise so does the sap in the vines and where the pruners have trimmed the end of the branch, we see this beautiful sight that reassures us  – telling us whatever happens, nature continues. The baby buds are beginning to come out timidly but soon the stark branches of the vines will be green again as these fragile leaves unfurl in the spring sunlight.
Back in 2020 many vintners (winemakers), not just in our region but across the whole of France, were unsure what 2021 would bring. Would 2021 be a challenging vintage or an easy one full of sunshine? With the growing season starting so early, the first hurdle - and one of the most crucial -  is the fear of late frost. It seems to be more and more of a problem in recent years, this late frost burying any new growth like a fast moving avalanche. For many vintners they have 2017 written into their hearts in painful tears when frost devastated any hope for a healthy harvest and for some even brought financial ruin.
For me - at the time - it was a rude introduction to the vicissitudes of the wine making business by two wine loving cousins co-owning and co-managing an old family owned French vineyard.  Family fortunes rise and fall according to the harvest. All the blood, tears, and sweat poured into running an efficient high yielding grape vineyard comes to naught when you realise that you are not the master, nature is.
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The risk of frost has increased in recent years due to global warming, which does not just warm but makes the climate more erratic and temperatures more extreme. Good news for the moderately temperate climate for our wine making region where hotter drier summers have produced a string of good recent vintages (2015, 2016, 2018, 2020). But the negative side of this is that frosts have become more common right up until the end of the usual cycle – last year it was on 6th May.
Except this year, 2021, now looked like 2017 because of the devastation of continued frost on the vines. In talking to the French family of my cousin’s French wife, who have faithfully made wine for a few generations they ruefully pointed out past bad frosts. Apparently 1956 was legendary with a very cold winter frost some minus 20 °C following a warm period when the sap rose from the roots into the vine foot and branches. It killed the vines. The last disastrous late spring frost before 2017 was 1991. It seems to be striking significantly every two years now and a every year to a degree. Who would have expected the devastation again this year, 2021 some forty years on.
This year, particularly around April 7th and 8th, brought despair to vignerons right across France from Champagne to Cognac, Burgundy to Bordeaux as thousands of vineyards’ new growth was obliterated by frost (resulting in zero yield for harvest 2021). There may be some new growth and some secondary budding but this is a repeat of 2017 (if not worse) and few were able to harvest any grapes worth speaking of.
My cousins had been in contact with friends and other peers who are wine makers in other regions (friendships are built at trade shows overseas and other association events) and in totality the picture appeared bleaker than previous years. The scourge of frost had been catastrophic. Around half of the vines in Burgundy have been damaged, according to local producers. Some vineyard owning friends in the Inter Rhône region told us that the whole of the Rhône has been hit dramatically and that some plots are affected 100%.
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According to the CNIV, the official French council for wine appellation, the frost has affected 80% of French vineyards. We already know that we will have a very low harvest in 2021. Nearly all French wine growers have just suffered a dark week in April.
It’s not just wine growers but fruit farmers too. It’s been like winter coming in spring. Below-freezing temperatures in the Drome and Ardèche regions of central southern France have led to fruit farmers losing up to 90 percent of their kiwi, apricot, apple, and peach harvest. Even in Bordeaux the severity of the frost damaged the growth on fruit trees such as apricots, peaches and nectarines, and field-crops such as rapeseed and sugar beet.
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Desperate times call for desperate measures. How does one protect the vines from frost?
There have been a variety of ways vineyard owners have been dealing with the problem of frost. There’s no one size fits all and the solutions are often handicapped by the size of one’s vineyards, financial resources, and manpower.
Two solutions in fighting frost have been aeolian wind turbines and air fans. It takes the warmer air from higher up, and pushes it to the ground. These machines can raise temperatures by up to 2C. The problem is that some of these wind turbines and air fans are permanently set so they can only be set in one direction whilst others one can wheel around to move the air and stop frost settling. Both are very expensive solutions and the cost may outweigh the gain.
Air heaters are another solution. No less expensive though. One of our vineyard owning neighbours wanted to use paraffin fuelled heaters. But he said he would have needed 4,500 paraffin-fuelled heaters to cover all his 15 hectares at a cost of nearly €50,000 for the two worst nights, and even then growers it would protect only the vines for his finest wines.
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Some of the vineyards also launched helicopters to fly above their vineyards, a method that can help to prevent frost by encouraging warm air to circulate. In effect they push the cold air around so that it does not sink down to the ground causing its damage.  I was all for this solution as I’m an ex-army helicopter combat pilot and so I felt my old training could be put to use in civilian helicopters. But we ruled this out once we did the maths. At  about 1600€-2000€ per hour one can only fly from 6am but this is the coldest time when the sun comes up. At best the helicopter’s range of effectiveness was a mere 10 hectares. So you don’t get more bang for your buck. But that didn’t stop some vineyards that we knew doing exactly that. These were corporate owned vineyards who tend to be well heeled and can afford to spare no expense.
There are less expensive solutions but are more costly in terms of manpower.
Some vineyards used water sprinklers, allowing a fine coating hitting sub-zero temperatures as the ice acts like a mini-igloo and protect it from outside colder temperatures.
Conversely, vineyard owners hit upon another relatively low cost solution of using candles. They usually last 12 hours and so in effect can be used for the two crucial nights of severe frost. We calculated that at 10€ a candle you would need 300 for one hectare alone. Of course the chief problem is that they need to be lit by hand and hope the wind was kind.
For the biodynamic wine producers they fell back on organic solutions. They sprayed their vines with a spray composed of pectins from apples which is supposed to lower the temperature around the vines. More common and perhaps more effective was spraying vines with Valerian  to give the vines some added fortification to survive themselves.
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By far the most common response by vineyard owners to combat the frost was to burn fires by burning hay bales amongst the vines. The smoke causes a blanket which heats up the atmosphere. In the old days I was told they actually burned rubber tyres! For it to have any chance of being effective you have to be aware of wine direction and make sure the bales are in the right places. It also helps if your neighbours do the same.
Speaking for our chateau vineyard, we had to make tough decisions to see how our chateau vineyard could combat the frost and minimise the damage to the future harvest. Although I own a small financial investment stake in the vineyard I have always deferred to my two cousins who actually run the vineyard with their married partners on a day to day basis. It’s their life long passion and I’m happy to play a small part in getting my hands (literally) dirty in building something from the soil up and for purely selfish reasons, just love being so close to nature itself. The fact that the French family of one my cousin’s wife - they actually owned the land and were reputable wine makers for generations  - added invaluable weight to the wisdom of any decision making we had to do.
We sat around the kitchen table and talked through our options whilst nursing a glass of wine from a past vintage.  My cousins and their kids especially thought I was a weirdo - they’re probably right! It’s not that I enjoy it (the mud, sweat and lack of sleep etc) but it was the challenge that really got me energised. If it’s a forlorn battle against the odds that’s when I really come alive. So I was quite jolly and full of vim whilst those around me were bleary eyed and groaning for bed and a hot shower as we were out in the fields in the dead of night. We ran it like a military operation - thanks to me ha! - I put everyone on detail and even the small kids saluted and got to work on their task. We made sure we had hot soup and beers constantly on tap for our staff and workers to take a food break and take a breather. Not that they needed motivating. Every one of our staff and also volunteers worked bravely to limit the damage.
So in the end we fell upon a series of actions which indeed many of our immediate wine making neighbours also followed suit. We sprayed, we watered, we burned. We tried everything to save our vines from further damage from frost.
We concocted an organic solution that had thyme, oregano, and wild sariette to which we added valerian and meadowsweet and a dash of yarrow and horsetail as well as honey; all of which help the whole organic solution to work. In effect this helps the vine to prepare for ice, by changing the composition of the sap a little, by enriching it with sugar. The infusion is then sprayed onto the vines at least 24 hours before the first freeze is forecast. The solution only works if the temperatures stay just below freezing but no lower, at around -2C or -1C maximum. With this solution on the plants, we could increase temperatures by 1-2 degrees. If it drops even lower, to around -5C, as we had in 2019, it’s not enough. It might save some plants, but not all.
We soon followed with watering the vines using our irrigation system we had on hand. It was labouriously time consuming.
When it was clear that this wasn’t going to work out because of the severe temperature drop we fell on fire as the saving solution.
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It was all hands on deck as we also roped in some volunteers to help us start small controlled fires amongst our vines. We burned straw bales and piles of wood in very large jerry cans to save what we could. The aim was to create a blanket of smoke so that when the sun came up it didn't burn the vines because of the humidity. One vineyard neighbour of ours actually used a flame thrower and lit more than 700 small fires but had to start all over again because the fires didn’t last one night.
This was our experience too. We had a lot of hectares to cover and so little man power and so we just worked around the clock until we were able to light fires and keep an eye on them should they go out. We ran between the selected vines to make sure the fires remained lit throughout the night starting around 2am to 6am. I don’t think any of us had more than a few hours sleep over a crucial 48 hour window. We took turns to cook for everyone and made sure everyone was well fed on home cooking as well as hot showers and adequately winter clothed. I’m used to being sweaty and getting by on little sleep from my army days but it’s a measure of how far I’ve succumbed to civilian life that even I found it a little hard going.
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I’m not very good at lighting fires as I tend to over compensate on the fuel lighter and I feared that I would burn the whole vineyard down by trying to start a small controlled fire. I got singed here and there but nothing to complain about. Others were just marvellous in their work ethic and shared bonhomie as we tried to save our vineyard. One person on our staff did get singed with flames and in his case we rushed him to hospital with minor third degree burns. We all felt like roasted chestnuts standing between the small fires. But what a spectacular sight the landscape was with all these lighted fires. This wasn’t just our vineyard but all across the landscape of neighbouring vineyards. It looked as if the whole region was on fire. It was quite hypnotising to  look at. As to its effects, it’s harder to discern. I do know that even cities of Lyon and Bordeaux had a layer of smog that was visible to others from far away.
Looking back it was both exhausting and exhilarating to experience such a time. It’s the kind of rite of passage that either breaks you or makes you. For us it certainly brought us all together more tightly than before. With our neighbours too there was a collective sense of togetherness and rather than act selfishly or just worry about our own fortunes, neighbours lent a hand towards each other in terms of equipment, expertise, or voluntary labour.
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Perhaps the more wealthy chateau vineyards’ expensive techniques were able to save their best vineyards but most who could afford creating smoke blankets from burning hay bales – they were no match for the frost with temperatures down to minus 5 in some areas. Hopefully insurance had been taken out, which involves a substantial expenditure each year. We are fortunate to have insurance and the damage done to our vineyard has been mitigated to some extent. But I do know for instance that many are not insured against the effects of frost because of the cost of the coverage and many French wine producers were already struggling financially.
It was reported that many chateau vineyards in lesser known areas (Castillon, Bourg, Blaye, Côtes de Franc, Graves, Satellites of St Emilion) who could not afford these payments and who played ‘Russian roulette’, this year lost for perhaps for the last time. For them it’s personally heart breaking. For French wine making it’s a cultural tragedy. It’s hard enough for small independent vineyards (often run by families or young couples with a dream) to survive - the economies of scale as well as being aggressively overshadowed by the high volume output and superior marketing power of wealthy corporate owned vineyards - but never really expected nature, or vicissitudes of global warming, to make it that much more harder to make wine.
Unlike Bordeaux, Burgundy, the Rhone valley, in the Champagne region, we heard that not many Champagne wine producers didn’t even bother fighting the frost because they thought it would have done little good. One of the reasons why so few people engaged in frost protection in Champagne is these wine makers have as their biggest buffer against frost is their Individual Reserve (RI). In case appellation requirements are not met in the vineyard, they can draw from it.
Indeed with sales still stagnating and small yield expectations, growers may have to dip in the RI because frost season is not over till after the Saintes Glaces, a period in the middle of May after which frost generally doesn't appear. But not every vineyard can do that.
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To their credit, perhaps recognising the commercial and cultural role French wine has in daily life and international prestige, the French government had agreed to step in to help. President Emmanuel Macron tweeted a picture of a candle-lit vineyard and promised that help was on the way, “À vous, agriculteurs qui, partout en France, avez lutté sans relâche, nuit après nuit, pour protéger les fruits de votre travail, je veux vous dire notre soutien plein et entier dans ce combat. Tenez bon ! Nous sommes à vos côtés et le resterons.” (“To you, farmers who, throughout France, have fought tirelessly, night after night, to protect the fruits of your labour, I want to give you our full support in this fight. Hold on tight! We are by your side and will remain so." )
To that end President Macron has declared an "agricultural disaster" and Prime Minister Jean Castex has promised that the government will provide emergency relief to those who were affected. He has also removed the limit on the amount of financial compensation that can be provided. It said it would help the smaller independent vineyards and co-operatives  with tax breaks as well as pushing banks and insurance companies to help out. It’s unclear if any of this will come to pass or indeed what effect it might have in the short and long term. We shall see.
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It’s been estimated that at least a third of French wine production worth nearly € 2 billion (£ 1.7 billion) in sales will be lost this year. It's another blow for France's wine industry whatever assistance is given. The French wine industry has already been dealing with the knock-on effects of the Covid pandemic, with decreases in restaurant orders due to the country's series of lockdowns. Independent producers have been hit hard by the cancellation of wine fairs due to Covid. Then there have been the effects of the tariffs that former President Donald Trump imposed as a result of assorted disputes between the administration and the European Union. In late 2019, Trump hit French wine with a retaliatory 25% import duty, a cost increase that the Economist says contributed to a 14% drop in French wine exports in 2020. Last month in March, the United States and the EU announced a four-month suspension of the tariffs.
But that doesn't necessarily help winegrowers right now - especially since a significant percentage of this year's crop may already be lost. Tradition has it that it is well into May before vine growers can sleep easy without worrying about the risk of further frost damage.
Even though we did our best to save our vines we couldn’t save all of them and even had decide which ones to forgo even trying because we lacked manpower and resources at such short notice. I heard someone amongst ourselves say losing the vines that one has cultivated so lovingly was like the loss of a family member. It may seem puerile, but that is close to what many feel. Perhaps only winegrowers can understand this sentiment, but they have found themselves out in the vines in the morning with tears in their eyes. I’m not one for sentiment and displays of emotion but even I was a little moved to see the heart break in tear filled eyes of some of the older generation who have for decades given their sweat and tears to tilling the soil. We did our best to console one another and remarkably in that crucible we experienced together we all became closer.
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What is clear is the tradition of wine - beyond national politics and international trade disputes - is under long term threat from something much more existential. There is a saying amongst the older generation of wine makers in our fertile wine making region who say, ‘wine history is climate history’. Wine making is about the vines, the ‘terroir’ (a French way of saying the earth or the soil), but also the climate. Nature is very much the master and wine makers are but humble servants of the soil. For those who don’t believe in climate change or think it’s overly dramatised by scientists or worse, a hoax, then I would say wake up and smell the coffee. Climate change is real as any wine producer or arable farmer will tell you. Wine can make you do or say many things, but it won’t ever make you tell a wilful lie.
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The French wife of my cousin, whose family the vineyard had been for several generations, told us that the wine harvest time used to span her grandfather’s birthday - September 28 - but now, the bustle of harvest is over and cleaned up in time for his birthday party - that’s two to three weeks earlier than when her grandfather used to make the wine. As she memorably put it, things are  “bien cramées” (really screwed up).
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All of this means that wine producers will have to change their ways as the climate changes. All the measures taken to combat frost were in reality delaying tactics to fight a losing battle with the climate. The wine industry, not just in France but around the world, needs to evolve if it is to face up to increasing climate challenges. This might include planting more weather-resistant vines that flower later, and are therefore less vulnerable to late frosts and cold snaps.
Wine, in France, is built into the fabric of the culture. The many variety of grapes across the wine growing regions indigenously grow and adapt to the precise climate conditions of the region for centuries. Winemakers know the growth stages intimately: the look of the vines before they bud; the look of the vines as they mature over long seasons; and the fat, sugary, fragrant curve of the grapes when they’re ready to be made into wine.
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That harvest point is crucial. Too long on the vine and the grapes have too much sugar in them, meaning the wine will be more alcoholic—not the subtle feel most winemakers in the region care for. Too long, and the acids that give wine some of its feel in the mouth may disintegrate. Not long enough, and they might not have developed the right balance of fragrant chemicals that give the wine its characteristic flavours.
Winemakers keep careful track of harvest dates, with some regions have records stretching back to the Middle Ages. In the 1800s, scientists and historians realised that those careful records could be used to keep track of how the climate in different parts of Europe has changed over time.
Grape harvest date records are the longest records of phenology in Europe. There are hundreds of years of records of what the summer temp was like, and we can use them like a thermometer.
Grape harvest dates reflect the temperature the grapes have felt over the course of the growing season, from about April until they’re picked. If the spring and summer are hot, the grapes mature faster and need to be picked sooner. If they're cool, the opposite is true.
Climate historians started to pull together ancient information from other sources, too. They matched up the patterns in the grape harvest data with records made from tree rings and the length of glaciers in the Alps. They used records like those to figure out that much of central Europe warmed up during the Medieval Warm Period, from around 900 to 1300. It had cooled down during the Little Ice Age, from about the 15th to the 19th centuries.
The historians saw that over the past few hundred years, temperatures wobbled around, skewing warm for short stretches and cooling down in others. But overall, climate rocked up and down around a fairly consistent average value - until recently.
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Wine is first and foremost an agricultural product. The grapes used to make it are grown and harvested with intent to be fermented. This means that wine production is vulnerable to the effects of climate change from the tangible health of vines to the taste and quality of the finished bottling they create. So for this reason, all winemakers see themselves as being on the front line to see what happens with the weather, with the climate. The fluctuations we have today are more significant than any time before.
If you don’t believe any of this or think wine producers are exaggerating the dangers, then taste your wine the next time you open a bottle. The chances are it has a high alcohol content. This is no accident. Because of the changes in temperature world wide, the alcohol content of wines has bumped up from about 12% in the 1970s to about 14% today. Of course that number varies from region to region and is also due to the wine maker’s preference. But a large part of it is because grapes are maturing faster in the heat. The more sugar they accumulate, the more of it is converted to alcohol during the winemaking process.
Warming has also caused the boundaries of viable growing area to swell. Typically, successful vineyards have been found between 30 and 50 degrees latitude. But as global average temperatures continue to climb, the most ideal areas to plant are moving farther from the equator. Now, areas as far up as the island of Föhr and Stargarder Land in Mecklenburg, at the tip-top of Germany, are legally permitted to produce table wines. Belgium, whose vinous history has been overshadowed by its beer culture, quadrupled production between 2006 and 2018; it’s forecasted to become a champion, alongside Finland, Sweden and other boreal climes. Shockingly, even England has also successfully entered the modern fine wine scene.
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With better wine from regions we know and new wine from previously uncharted areas, it may appear the wine world is becoming better off. In truth, however, this is a thin silver lining to ever-worsening viticultural challenges.
If the growing season becomes too hot, fruit will push through its life cycle too quickly and characteristics like tannins and anthocyanins, the compounds responsible for giving grape skins their colour, won’t develop properly. Muted acid and increased alcohol levels are also possible and often undesirable.
Variations between daytime and nighttime temperatures are in jeopardy as well. In warmer growing regions, that difference can be crucial to achieving freshness and encouraging certain flavour and aroma development.
Intense heat or too much direct sunlight can lead to dried fruit notes or create flabby and dull wines. Fruit that’s left too long on the vine can be damaged from sunburn or may simply shrivel. Vines may just shut down to protect themselves.
This is already happening in some places. Wine growers in northern Italy have already seen sunburnt crops with increasing frequency. The summer of 2019 in Southern Australia was the hottest since national records began in 1910, and it ushered in an 8% loss of white wine varieties, with Chardonnay dropping 12% to its lowest yield in the past five years. Growers in Priorat, Spain, reported devastating vine damage, scorched leaves and desiccated grapes when temperatures shot up to a record 107.6˚F.
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Climate change is complicated, however, and, even though temperature is the most influential factor in overall growth and productivity of wine grapes, there’s more than rising mercury to think about.
Winter, and all of its prescriptions, is one of those other things. We typically talk about warming, yet, freezes during the winter or extreme frost in the spring don’t go away. They may become less frequent, but potentially more severe. A decrease in regular winter frosts may also encourage the spread of pests and insect-borne diseases that would normally die off during cold seasons.
Moisture is pivotal. Too much rain approaching or during harvest can lead to watery grapes and a weak vintage. Similar to mild winters, damp, soggy and humid conditions open the door to a variety of pests, fungi, mildew and disease pressures.
All of these intricacies and others work in conjunction with temperature to dictate what vines can successfully grow where and for how long—and all are increasingly unpredictable or totally upended in the face of climate change.
The people who grow, make and sell wine are tuned in to these nuances.
A greater number of producers are rethinking canopy management, vine trellising or pruning techniques, developing cover crops and extensive shading methods, increasing vineyard biodiversity and finding ways to reuse water.
Still, there are some challenges that cannot be overcome.
In the future, I expect growers to struggle with maintaining varieties in certain regions without major interventions. If they don’t make major changes, wine producers will see declining yields - already seen in Europe - and declining quality as the varieties become increasingly mismatched to the climate.
Producers have begun grafting new rootstocks and experimenting with different grapes. In South Africa, Vinpro, aided tests of drought-resistant varieties including Assyrtico and Marselan, for example. Australian producers have tried Italian grapes like Fiano, Vermentino and Nero d’Avola that thrive in warmer settings.
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In Old World regions, where grapes and blends may be prescribed by law, the idea of swapping plantings is monumental.
Bordeaux is one such place, and, at a 2019 General Assembly meeting, it finally relented. The Union of Bordeaux AOC and Bordeaux Supérieur winemakers unanimously approved a list of seven “varieties of interest for adapting to climate change”: Arinarnoa, Castets, Marselan, Touriga Nacional, Alvarinho, Liliorila and Petit Manseng.
The approval of these new plantings signals just how committed the region is to preserving the future of fine wine.
Each of the various tactics being implemented worldwide take lots of time, tests and research. Some experienced wine producers think it would take about 21 years to change course because of how long it takes to plant vines, grow grapes, and then create and age a wine; finding sustainable farming practices for a plot takes trial and error.
Further, the methods being devised now may not be applicable down the road. Though there are several models in use to try and predict changes, they are attempting to track a nonlinear problem that’s dependent on a range of forthcoming scenarios.
Basically, the only thing we do know for certain is that it will get warmer, and that we may be able to anticipate that heat before it hits us.We have to be asking what we can do now to preserve the integrity of the grapes and vineyards we work with and look for where our opportunities are to continue making wine. The one line that works for everyone is to cut carbon emissions, that is the emergency action that needs to be taken. 
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We’re all starting to see this and we’re all affected. We know we can’t turn it backwards, and we’re not even sure we can slow it down. But we have to try.
Think on all this the next time you take a sip of wine.
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adenei · 4 years ago
Note
Hii! Fluff number fifty!
Hi! Thanks for the ask! I promise it’s fluffy, but I couldn’t keep the angst out.
“Can you quit being sappy for five seconds?”
“This is nice, isn’t it?” Hermione asked. 
“What? Er, yeah, really nice.” Ron responded distractedly.
What had gotten into him? They were dancing and George and Angelina’s wedding, but it seemed like he was miles away.
“Do you think ours will be like this someday?” She thought this would be the perfect time to feel Ron out, what with the intimate setting and everything. Sure, they’d talked about getting married before, but recently, Ron had been rather tight lipped on the subject, and Hermione wasn’t quite sure why.
“I mean, I wouldn’t choose these colors, of course, and I think I’d quite like an early summer wedding if I’m being honest...or perhaps late spring. And I don’t think I’d want this many people. I’d rather it be small and intimate and-”
“Hermione, can you quit being sappy for five seconds? I’m trying to think,” Ron cut her off abruptly. 
“O-oh, alright then. I think my feet are getting tired, anyways.” She broke apart from his arms and turned to walk off the dance floor. 
“Hermione, wait- I didn’t!” she heard Ron calling for her, but she didn’t stop as she made her way to the bar.
She tried desperately to hide the hurt on her face, especially when Ginny caught sight of her. Hermione tried to make it look like she was headed in one direction before she veered off when she was satisfied the crowd had put enough space in between her and her boyfriend. She was suddenly feeling a bit claustrophobic from all the people and needed to get outside for some fresh air. Angelina had wanted a reception in a grand hall, much to Mrs. Weasley’s dismay, but George had happily obliged. Hermione was sure it must be nice for Mrs. Weasley to not have to worry about entertaining and hosting such an event.
She exited the building into a small courtyard. It was quiet, as the night was still young and she found an empty bench close by. There was a chill in the air, considering it was September and the nights were beginning to get colder. Well, I guess we’ve had a good run, Hermione thought. If she was being honest with herself, she always knew he was too good for her. Too kind, too loyal, too forgiving against her rigidity and her tendencies to put work above her relationship. She closed her eyes and a tear slipped out. Thank goodness for waterproof mascara.
“Hermione, I’m sorry.” She felt Ron slip into the open spot next to her.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. I figured this was coming sooner or later.”
“Y-you did?” Ron looked surprised.
“Well, yes, your siblings are all starting to pair off and get married, and it was only a matter of time.”
“Oh. I guess I was hoping you’d be surprised, at least.” Ron’s shoulders slumped.
Hermione turned to him in disbelief. “Surprised? How would that make breaking things off with me any easier?”
“Wait, who said anything about breaking it off? I-is that what you want?” The panic in Ron’s voice certainly wasn’t matching what she was expecting.
“Well, you did! Not that you said anything outright, but the odd way you’ve been acting lately. I just assumed-”
“Merlin, no! Bloody hell, Hermione that’s the last thing I want!” he reached into his pocket. “Was hoping for the opposite really. I was going to ask you to marry me, but if you don’t-”
Hermione grabbed his arm that was holding the small box. “You what?” Her eyes were wide as she was trying to understand what was going on.
“I’ve been trying to come up with the perfect way to ask you to marry me,” Ron said as he sighed. “When George and Angelina were going to take their leave and Lee set the fireworks off. I was going to pull you away from the crowd, ask you in private. I didn’t want to take away from their day, but I didn’t want to wait any longer. I was barmy to even think that I could make this-”
“Yes.” Hermione cut him off.
“What?” Ron asked.
“I want to marry you. Of course I do! My answer is yes!”
“But I didn’t actually ask-”
“Then ask me now.”
Ron searched her eyes before slowly slipping down on one knee, opening the box. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes!” Hermione said, her hands covering her mouth in shock. 
Ron could barely believe what was happening as he felt his hands take the ring out and slide it on her finger. The next thing he knew he was kissing her as he’d never kissed her before. 
“I love you,” she said, their heads pressed together.
“I love you, too, so much. I can’t believe you thought I was going to break it off.” Ron laughed.
“Well, you were acting rather odd!”
“If I ever try to end things, it’d be because I was Imperiused. You’re it for me, Hermione. It’s always been you.”
She didn’t trust her voice, so she kissed him again instead. When she’d had her fill, she looked at him and asked, “Should we get back to the party before someone realizes we’re gone?”
Ron flashed his lopsided grin at her. “Only if we have to…” 
“We’ll celebrate more later, I promise.”
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cozy-the-overlord · 4 years ago
Text
Running with the Wolves
Summary:  After the events of Infinity War ripped her life to pieces, Queen In-Unga forges forward as sole ruler of Jotunheim, finding solace in the two orphaned wolf puppies she finds outside her sleigh.
AU in which Loki didn’t die at the beginning of Infinity War-- he accompanied Thor to Nidavellir, then to Wakanda, and died in the Snap alongside the Avengers.
Based on Frostbite by @maiden-of-asgard​
Word Count:  12,192
Pairing: Loki x Reader/Loki x In-Unga
Read it on Ao3
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A/N: So let’s flashback to last summer. I had three obsessions: Avengers Endgame, A Song of Ice and Fire (which I was reading for the first time), and Frostbite by Maiden of Asgard. Those obsessions merged into a story that’s been swirling in my head ever since. I never thought I'd actually write it-- back then, I still wasn't fully comfortable with writing my own fanfiction, let alone writing fanfiction of someone else's fanfiction. But when Moa announced that she was going to be turning Frostbite into a physical book and would be accepting fan submissions, my dumbass brain went "i CaN dO tHaT."
This is the most I've struggled with writing a story ever. I've never written from the perspective of a character that wasn't my own, and I found that to much more difficult than I anticipated. Combine that with how the story I was trying to tell spanned over an overwhelming five years, my constant stress that I was ruining Moa’s characters, and the fact that I kept finding myself in "this-made-more-sense-in-my-head" territory and I started getting pretty frustrated. I had expected to be done by the end of June; when at the beginning of July I was only barely halfway finished, I kind of threw in the towel and said "forget it." I took a week off from writing to clear my head, and after a pep talk from my sister (thanks, JJ!) I decided I had to complete it. So here it is! Am I completely happy with the final product? No, but seeing as I never thought there'd be a final product, I'm proud of myself nonetheless.
One last note (this a/n is obnoxious, I’m sorry): Moa, I did intend for this story to be a part of your Frostbite book, but I totally understand if you don't want to deal with it. It is disgustingly long, and I know that you said that the book is already huge. I won't be offended if you don't put it in-- I don't want to create more trouble for you.
Thanks for reading!
It was freezing.
That was saying something. Freezing was an adjective In-Unga had learned not to use lightly. Living on Jotunheim came with the acceptance that you would be existing in extreme sub-zero temperatures year round, warmth being an elusive gem found only in the recesses of furry coats or underneath thick blankets. In the years she had spent in the realm of the Frost Giants, In-Unga felt that she had come quite accustomed to the cold. It was something she was rather proud of—when Captain Rodgers had visited with Thor a few years back, he had joked that she must have taken some kind of super soldier serum herself in order to handle it so well. She had responded, beaming, that as long as she had Loki, she didn’t need anything else to keep her warm.
She had never really considered the truth to that statement.
Njal, her burly head guard, pulled his mount alongside hers. “The temperature is dropping, my queen,” he said. “Perhaps you would be more comfortable in your sleigh—”
“No.” She hoped her voice sounded stronger than she felt. “I appreciate your concern, but I am perfectly fine as I am.” Just for good measure, she added a queenly nod.
Njal seemed unconvinced, but he bowed his head just the same. “As you say, my queen.”
In-Unga exhaled, trying to ignore the white cloud that enveloped her when she did so. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay out here. She couldn’t see the skin of her hands under her mittens, but she was certain they were blue. Her face, as well. In fact, at the moment she probably looked more Jotun than Midgardian.
But she was determined to continue riding. Loki had always made a point of it, in the early days when his main concern was showcasing his strength. Now that he was gone, she needed to be strong for him, and for her people.
Those that were left.
Her eyes burned in warning, and so In-Unga shook her head and went back to thinking about how horribly freezing it was. The cold hurt less.
Býleistr had questioned her decision to tour the kingdom so late in the year. The weather would be awful, he said. Her people would understand if she waited until spring. In-Unga had argued that waiting brought its own danger: ignoring the far-away regions during such a tumultuous time would foster restlessness, and the last thing they needed on top of everything that had happened was a civil war.
What she couldn’t put into words was how she needed to get out. There were too many missing faces in Utgard, gaping holes in the tapestry of family she had woven around herself. The throne room was empty even when it was full. She couldn’t focus on mealtime conversations because her gaze kept drifting to the vacant seats where her Forest Twins should be sitting. Her bedroom had become a tomb.
She had to leave, before she drowned in the silence.
Shouts at the back of the party startled In-Unga out of her pity spiral. Members of her guard rushed down the line of sleighs, weapons drawn. Those that remained by her side closed in a tight wall around her.
“What’s happening?” she called to Njal. “Are we under attack?” That’s just what we need now. The forested wilderness that surrounded them provided cover to any would-be assailants. Here, they were sitting ducks.
The wind picked up again, ice cutting straight through her many layers, and this time In-Unga found she couldn’t control her shivering. Frozen sitting ducks.
Soon enough, the cries died down, and her guards came riding back.
“All is well, your majesty. It was only a vargr.”
In-Unga thought of Mánagarmr and shivered again. “A wolf?” she asked. “Is anyone injured?”
“No, my queen.” In-Unga didn’t know the name of the guard that spoke. He was a new member of her defense, one of the many who got an unexpected promotion when their superiors turned to dust. “It jumped out at the last sleigh and startled many, but it was small, and taken down rather easily.”
The mortal queen of Jotunheim frowned. “Why would a wolf attack a party this large?” she asked.
“I cannot say, my queen.”
“Your majesty,” Njal spoke. “Shall I give the order to continue?”
In-Unga shook her head. This didn’t make any sense. “No,” she said. “I want to see this wolf.”
It shouldn’t have surprised her that a giant’s version of a small wolf was bigger than a Clydesdale. The majestic animal now lay lifeless in the snow, the pure white of its fur sullied only by the crimson stain spreading from the spear in its neck. The soldier who brought it down was only too pleased to relay the story to his queen.
“It came tearing out of the woods like a beast from Hel,” he cried, waving his hands for dramatic effect, “Snarling and hissing and baring its teeth. Most of us were caught off guard, but I’ve always been quick with a spear, and so when it turned to me, I was ready for it—”
In-Unga nodded, only half listening. She scanned the treeline from which the wolf had appeared. It made no sense to her—what would cause the creature to attack unprovoked? Right now, with the trees casting crooked silhouettes and the wind whistling in her ears, it seemed like an omen.
But of what? She wondered uselessly. What else could go wrong?
A clump of snow caught her eye. For a moment, she couldn’t understand why—it looked no different than any other clump she had come across in her life. Completely ordinary, but… there was something…
Warmth.
It was warmer than the rest.
The realization shocked her a little. Sensing changes in temperature from afar had been one of the skills Loki had taught her (unsurprisingly, given his affinity for snakes), but she had thought she lost it, along with all her other magical abilities, when she lost her husband.
Better make a note of that.
“There’s something over there,” she said, pointing. “In the snow. Something alive.” She made her way off the road, her guards scrambling to maintain their positions around her.
Damn, it was cold. In-Unga knelt in the ice, biting back curses as the snow soaked through to her knees. Getting back on her mount was looking more and more impossible.
The clump whimpered.
She let out a small gasp when the fluffy puppy head popped out of the snow, blinking ice out of its eyes. It shook the glistening snow from its fur with a tiny whine. A petulant growl followed, and a second pup appeared, pushing its way in front of the first and baring its teeth.
“Oh!” In-Unga reached out cautiously, the cold already forgotten. The growling puppy yipped and she pulled her hand back. The other merely yawned.
Behind her, Njal cleared his throat. “My queen, perhaps you should back away. They are feral—”
“That was their mother,” In-Unga interrupted, looking back at the bleeding body on the side of the path. “She must have felt they were threatened by the caravan and attacked. And we killed her.” Although, even that seemed unlikely.  In-Unga eyed the wolf-killer where he stood over the body of his prey, animatedly retelling the story of his deed to a growing crowd. It was easy to picture him wandering off the trail and provoking the frightened mother. Her gaze darkened.
Njal shifted uncomfortably. “It is unfortunate, my queen, but at this point there’s nothing to be done. We should continue before the weather takes a turn for the worse.”
“We can’t just leave them to starve!” she cried. She reached out again. The growling puppy flinched but didn’t back away. Its sibling craned its neck to sniff her mitten, sneezing when it breathed in a noseful of fuzz. Puppies in the dead of winter. That’s got to mean something. “Look at them! They won’t survive without their mother.”
“I can give them a quick end, your Majesty, if it would ease your worries,” one of her guards spoke up. “It would be merciful—”
“No.” Her guards stiffened at the ice in her voice. The first puppy nuzzled into her hand, rubbing against her like a cat and letting out a contented sigh when she scratched the fur on its neck. The other slunk forward guardedly, curiosity seemingly cracking its tough guy exterior. To her surprise neither resisted when she scooped them into her arms.
“I’ll have no more killing today,” In-Unga said as she stood. “I’ll care for them myself.”
Huld seemed absolutely horrified when the mortal queen plopped the little balls of fur on the floor of the sleigh.
“My queen, they’re wild animals!” she cried.
In-Unga laughed as the first puppy attempted to burrow back into her coat pocket. “Yeah. Real wild.” Its head popped up at the sound of her voice, and for the first time, In-Unga noticed its eyes: one brown and one blue. “Why, you’re a little David Bowie wolf, aren’t you?” she cooed, scratching its pointed ear. The puppy licked her wrist happily.
Her maid wasn’t quite as pleased. “My queen!” she exclaimed, backing away as the other pup growled. “What do you plan to do with them?”
“Keep them, I suppose. Raise them as pets.” She left the Bowie wolf to rein in his brother. They were both so small—when she held them in her arms they could easily be mistaken for Earth dogs. In-Unga found herself recalling her first sleigh ride in Jotunheim, with Greip and Gjálp and Snowball the Not-Melrakki, how shocked the twins had been at the concept of Midgardians owning pets.
How many years ago was that? Five? Feels like a lifetime.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, hoping Huld was too preoccupied with their new companions to smell her grief.
“Do we have anything for them to eat?” she asked with forced brightness. “Seal milk, or something?” Huld frowned, but obediently prepared a bowl of milk.
“They’re going to grow to be monsters,” she warned. “My queen, you saw Mánagarmr—”
“That’s right, I did,” In-Unga interrupted as her puppies began lapping up the dish. “And let me tell you, these guys are nothing like him.” The tough pup looked up with an offended growl. Laughing, she reached out to pet him. “Although this one thinks he is.”
The maid’s look of concern only deepened.
In-Unga sighed. “Don’t worry, Huld. Their mother wasn’t even that big. They won’t grow up to be Mánagarmr.” She cringed as she thought of the blood-splattered wolf lying in the snow. These puppies were so small, they had to have been born within the last month, after the Snap. Their poor mother survived the event that massacred half of every living being in the universe so she could give birth to her children, only to be stabbed to death by some hotshot with a stick. It was too cruel for words.
His hunger satisfied, the Bowie wolf paddled over to where In-Unga sat cross-legged on the floor and plopped down in her lap, grinning up at her with his multi-colored eyes.
“Awww!” In-Unga stroked his fur as he snuggled against her coat. “Huld, look at this! Isn’t he precious?”
Huld gave some non-descript reply, but In-Unga didn’t hear her. The second puppy was sniffing her boot, chewing on the sole with pearly teeth. “Come here, little guy.” He whined as she pulled him into her lap with his brother but didn’t try to escape. Quickly, they were both snoring.
In-Unga cradled them as the caravan trudged on, completely oblivious to the cold.
Her wolf pups quickly became the highlight of her entourage. At first In-Unga kept to leaving them with Huld while she met with the nobles on their various stops, hoping to spare them from the information overload of court, but they howled something terrible whenever she was out of sight, crying and chasing after her and giving poor Huld nightmares. Ultimately, the queen had two leashes fashioned out of leather, which they wore reluctantly in exchange for accompanying her everywhere she went. It certainly was a sight to behold—she had already looked rather ridiculous before, this tiny mortal woman encompassed by giants, and now here there were these two little fluffballs constantly nipping at her heels— but perhaps it just added to her effect.
They grew quickly. Within a week it seemed they had doubled in size, which In-Unga only realized when she nearly pulled a muscle trying to scoop them both up as she had done when she first found them. Their appetite grew with them. She was seriously concerned for a while that the caravan would run out of things with which to feed them until Njal pointed out one night that they were born hunters.
“Let them loose while we travel, my queen,” he said. “They’ll find food.”
In-Unga frowned. “You think they would come back?” she asked.
Her guard’s gaze traveled to Bowie, sprawled out on her lap fast asleep, his brother hunched protectively over her feet. “I don’t think you have to worry, your Majesty.”
She started taking them off the leash in the morning. At first, they’d only trot alongside her mount, too anxious to leave her side, but soon they were venturing off the trail for pockets of time, reappearing later with some bloodied creature dangling from their mouths. Birds, rodents, small animals—nothing was safe. Her little fur-babies were stone cold killers. She would’ve been lying if she said it wasn’t unnerving to see the little puppies she cuddled up with at night licking blood off their faces, but honestly their prowess was impressive. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head when Brynjarr returned one day dragging some furry mammal twice as big as him.
Unlike his brother, Brynjarr had remained nameless for a large part of the journey. He had been bestowed with nicknames of all sorts—Hunter, Tough Guy, Mommy’s Little Fighter—but it wasn’t until they reached Márfjall that he got a proper name.
“That’s a warrior,” Hrossþjófr said to her while watching the two wrestle on the beach. “He needs a warrior’s name.”
In-Unga had been dreading this final stop, dreading having to walk down these hallways alone when the very walls of the castle screamed for Loki. She had resolved be strong, but just seeing Hross as they alighted, withered and wilted without Griep by his side, had been nearly enough to cause her to fall apart.
The wolves kept her together. Their childlike fascination with the crimson sands was almost enough to distract her from the other memories swirling around in the dark bay. In her few moments of free time, she’d take them down to the shore and laugh as they’d go tearing up the surf, Brynjarr barking menacingly at the ocean when the waves crashed too close to his feet, Bowie rolling around in the sand until his white coat was stained pink. Hross joined her often with his children, likely as desperate for a diversion as she was. They didn’t talk about the event. It was easier just to focus on the wolves.
Hross was endlessly impressed with their obedience. “How do you get them to do that?” he asked when they stopped what they were doing and came running at In-Unga’s whistle.
She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said as she attempted to dust off Bowie’s coat before he plopped down on top of her. Even though the two wolves were nearly at the height of her hips, Bowie still seemed to think he was a lap cat. “They just always do.”
Dagný shrieked and buried her face into her father’s chest when the wolves came too close, but her brother leaned forward, his eyes like saucers as he reached for Brynjarr with chubby hands.
“Woof,” he cried. “Woof.”
Hross pulled him away. “Dali, we don’t want to bother the vargr, now—"
“It’s okay,” In-Unga said. “Bryn, sit down so Dali can pet you.”
Brynjarr sank into the sand obediently. Dali gasped in delight as he ran his fingers through the wolf’s thick mane.
“Woof!” he cried again, happily. Hross and In-Unga laughed.
From her lap, Bowie whined for attention. She reached to scratch behind his ears.
“So devoted,” Hross mused. “I’ll have to add it to your song. ‘In-Unga, charmer of wolves.’”
The party arrived back at Utgard just as the winter freeze was beginning to thaw. There was an audible gasp from the crowd gathered when she exited her sleigh flanked by the two animals, but Býleistr only raised an eyebrow.
“There were rumors, but I supposed no one really believed them,” he told her as they walked in.
She smiled. “But you did?”
“Of course,” he said. “If there’s anyone on this planet stupid enough to mistake a vargr for a pet, it’s you.”
“I missed you too, Bý.”
Býleistr and the rest of her advisors tried to catch her up on all the business she had missed over dinner, but the very presence of her wolves was quick to derail any serious conversation.
“They’re so well behaved,” marveled a forest giant In-Unga probably should’ve known the name of. “How does one inspire such loyalty, your Majesty?”
In-Unga forced an artificial laugh. “They only stick around because they know I feed them.”
The wolves laid down at her feet, eyeing the meat on the table. She reached down to scratch Bowie’s back. She doubted the giant had meant anything by her question, but the way everyone was looking at Bowie and Brynjarr was reminding her of the way everyone had looked at her when she first arrived in Jotunheim with Loki, and it was stirring up emotions in her chest that she wasn’t prepared to deal with.
She thought of the golden collar she had worn for so many years, a sign of ownership that had turned into a display of loyalty. She had despised it at first, but by the end she had been proud to wear that collar.
Lokakona. Loki’s woman.
It was in a box under her bed, along with the knife he had given her after the Rann Steinar debacle and the wooden Yggdrasil pendent Griep had given her before her first trip to Asgard. In the days following the destruction of the stones, as the heavy truth that this was a nightmare she wasn’t going to wake up from sank in, In-Unga had collected everything that broke her to look at and stuffed them where she wouldn’t see them anymore.
It hadn’t helped much.
The nights were the worst. It was stupid, because she had lived alone for years before Jotunheim, but now the concept of sleeping by herself made her sick to her stomach. When everything had first happened, In-Unga had refused to even touch the bed. It was too big, too cold, too empty to even attempt sleep in it. She piled furs and blankets on top of the couch and laid there all night, haunted by missing faces and broken memories and outstretched hands that were just beyond her reach. By morning, she’d be curled up so tightly into herself that it hurt to sit straight during the day.
At first, it was just temporary. Wasn’t that what Agent Romanov said, when she finally got into contact with her? They’d find a way to reverse it. Once they were able to locate Tony Stark, they’d find a way. It would be okay. She’d just have to rule in Loki’s stead for a little bit, just like she had before. Keep his realm together for him until he came back. But a month later, she got another call. This time, Romanov’s voice held none of the steadfast determination that In-Unga had been clinging to so desperately. They were gone. The infinity stones, and the people too. It was over. They failed. She was so sorry.
Vaguely, In-Unga remembered asking if she could talk to her brother-in-law, the silence that followed as Romanov went looking for him, her apologetic tone when Thor refused to come to the phone. The next thing she knew she was in the courtyard, heavy snow pummeling her body as Býleistr dragged her back inside with an arm around her waist.
“Are you completely out of your mind?” he snapped. “You’ll freeze to death out there!”
She held up her hand, hazily noting that her skin looked an even darker blue than his.
It was soon after that In-Unga decided to tour the kingdom. The voice inside her head scolded her for the decision even as she attempted to provide political rationale. She was running away. Pushing her problems further down the road in a childish attempt to avoid the unavoidable. Loki would be disappointed in you.
But how could she rule a planet when she couldn’t even bring herself to sleep in her own bed?
So she had left for a few months, for better or worse, and now she was back. After dinner her wolves, obviously exhausted from the long journey, trotted into her old room without issue. Bowie plopped down on the floor and was asleep in seconds. Brynjarr, ever distrustful, made his cautious way around the room, sniffing at odds and ends and barking at items that seemed too suspicious. In-Unga stood in the doorway, watching. It was almost enough of a distraction. Almost. The room was untouched since the last time she had entered, so much so that it still reeked of Loki. The feeling was so strong that for a moment she didn’t trust herself to move.
She entered slowly, drinking in the memories. Loki’s desk, where she’d lean on top of him and read his paperwork over his shoulder, currently piled up with documents he was never going to review. The table across from empty fireplace, where on rare occasions they could have their meals when the only company they felt like entertaining was each other’s. The rug next to the fireplace, where they always seemed to end up after such occasions.
And there was the bed. Brynjarr rushed ahead of her as she made her way to the bedroom, seemingly intent on confirming its safety before allowing her access. In-Unga found herself laughing despite the ache in her chest.
“Does it meet your standards, Bryn?” she asked as he slipped under the bed and out again, sniffing every corner and examining every fur. Eventually, he laid down at the foot of the bed, satisfied.
In-Unga sat down next to him, stroking his ears as he rested his big head on her thighs. This was the last place she had seen Loki. Here, in this room, on this bed. They had been woken up in the middle of the night by a messenger at the door. Groaning, he had dragged himself out of bed to answer it, only to return shortly after considerably more alert.
“What’s wrong?” she asked sleepily as he dressed. “Where you going?”
“Thor’s made a mess of things on Asgard,” he replied, pulling his tunic over his head. “He needs my help.”
“What?” The gravity of his tone woke her up quickly. “Wait, you’re leaving now? What happened?”
He leaned forward to kiss her. “It’s probably nothing. My brother is known to blow things out of proportion. I should be back within a few days.”
“Loki—”
He muffled her with another kiss. “Don’t worry, dröttning,” he whispered against her lips. “It will be fine. I love you.”
“I love you too,” she whispered back. “Stay safe.”
And then he was gone.
For months, In-Unga wondered if there was something she should’ve done. Pulled him back into bed, forbidden him from walking through that door? “Stay here with me. Thor can handle it himself.” Would it have even changed anything? Loki had told her about Thanos—not a lot, but enough to understand that his influence stretched across galaxies. Would he still have collected the stones, regardless of whether she managed to keep Loki with her? She didn’t know which alternative was worse: the idea that there was something she could’ve done but didn’t, or the thought that she was so useless that Loki and the others were fated to die regardless of her actions.
Brynjarr whined, sitting up taller so he could lick the tears off her cheeks. She buried her face in his fluffy neck.
“I miss him, Bryn,” she sobbed. “I miss him so much.”
He followed her into bed that night. It was a bit surprising—Brynjarr normally wasn’t one for bedtime cuddles, that was Bowie’s thing—but not all together unwelcome. In-Unga was a little more concerned about the bed—on all fours her wolves were now taller than her, and significantly heavier. But it seemed to hold together alright, minus a few creaks, and honestly, the comforting weight of Bryn’s head on her stomach was worth a damaged bedframe if it came down to it. Slowly, she drifted off to the sound of his breathing.
Court was sparse these days.
In-Unga had become so accustomed to the looming hallway being packed with faces that seeing it half-empty kindled even more anxiety in her chest. The faces that were there seemed anxious as well—although In-Unga was rather certain their apprehension came more from the massive wolves at her feet than the vacancies in the room. Bowie and Brynjarr were still for the most part, but they were always ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.
Everything was threatening to them. If someone addressed her with a less than respectful tone, if someone tried too come to near to the throne, they were on their feet, teeth bared and growling. In-Unga found it hard to take them seriously. Bowie was a big sweetie who liked belly rubs and snuggling next to the fire, and whenever Bryn growled, she could only picture the tiny little fluff ball she found in the snow trying to be intimidating. But they certainly succeeded in unnerving the court, a little too much perhaps.
“Maybe I should have them wait outside next time,” she wondered aloud to Býleistr after a civilian who had come to petition the queen had been so frightened he was unable to string together a coherent sentence.
“No, most certainly not,” he countered. “They give you an extra sense of authority. The Queen already controls the Casket, now the vargrs bow to her command—it’s a powerful statement, and Jotuns respect power.”
“I suppose,” she said, thoughtfully. “But I don’t want to feel like I’m ruling through fear.”
Býleistr scoffed. “If your subjects don’t fear you to some extent, then you’re doing something wrong. Besides,” he added, “they should be fearful of your wolves.”
He was probably right. In-Unga trusted Njal and his men with her life, but she knew that if there was any sign of danger it would be the wolves who acted first. Bryn and Bowie accompanied her everywhere, flanking her like a set of furry bodyguards. It was especially odd given how large they had grown—they had long been towering over her, and now were approaching Býleistr’s height. Thankfully, Utgard had high ceilings.
With time, the palace became more accustomed to their presence. In-Unga liked to think that seeing her so at ease with them had begun to rub off on her subjects. If she ever had free time during the day, she’d take the two outside to run around and play in the snow. It wasn’t nearly as spacious as the beaches at Márfjall, but they had enough room to wrestle and cavort around. A crowd usually gathered when she played fetch with an old stick of wood she had picked up while still on the road, watching cautiously with wide eyes. She felt rather like a zookeeper putting on a show in an exhibit.
And if you look here, boys and girls, we have an overgrown doggo in his natural habitat.
It had also become a well-known fact that Bowie and Brynjarr slept in In-Unga’s bed with her. She wasn’t quite sure how this had become a well-known fact—perhaps those in charge of washing her bedding had taken note of the clumps of white fur tangled in the blankets—but Huld told her that this fact was seen as quite impressive to the other servants.
“It’s brave,” she said. “To leave yourself vulnerable to such beasts every night.”
In-Unga laughed humorlessly from where she sat hunched over at the desk. It had been a rough day. “At least they’re impressed. I’m pretty sure Loki’s glaring daggers down at me for letting animals sleep in his bed.” She had meant to make a joke, but there was a familiar lump building in her throat that she couldn’t quite swallow.
Hesitantly, Huld reached out to touch her forearm. “He’d love them,” she said. “He loved anything that made you happy.”
Maybe that was so. But In-Unga was still pretty certain that he’d be pissed—if not for the constantly shedding vargrs taking over his bedroom, then definitely for the stupid ideas that they spawned.
“Alright,” In-Unga said, drawing a line in the air from her chest to the ground. “Lie down.”
The two wolves sunk into the snow obediently, though not without confusion. They clearly expected playtime when she brought them outside, as did the growing crowd of faces at the palace gate. She sighed. This was one time where she’d rather not have an audience, but she didn’t feel right having them dispersed.
“Have I mentioned that this is a terrible idea?” Býleistr drawled from behind her.
“You have, as a matter of fact,” she replied, rubbing Bowie’s neck. He sighed contently, multicolored eyes slipping closed. “I’m still not listening to you.”
“It was worth a try.”
It was Hross who had put the idea in her head, when he had come to visit a month or two ago. Even after he returned to Márfjall, she couldn’t stop imagining what it might be like to ride one of her wolves like a horse.
“Just picture it!” he had said excitedly. “Queen In-Unga, riding into battle alone atop a vargr, casket in hand—”
Býleistr had interrupted to inquire under what circumstances would the kingdom become so inept as to send their mortal queen into battle alone, but In-Unga was sold.
Although, looking at it now, mounting didn’t seem as simple as Hross had made it out to be.
“Okay,” she murmured to Bowie as she made her way around his body. “I’m going to get on your back, buddy. Don’t freak out.” She grabbed a clump of fur on his back—even with him laying down, she had to reach a bit—and tried to pull herself up.
Key word being tried.
“No—what are you doing?” she cried as Bowie stood up with her still hanging off his side. “Bowie, sit down!”
The wolf yawned.
“Oh my,” Býleistr was doing his best to sound disinterested, but she could hear the suppressed laugher hiding under his voice. “Do you need a push?”
“Shut up.” She leveraged herself against the wolf, trying to wriggle her way to a sitting position. Bowie suddenly decided to obey her earlier command and plopped his bottom on the ground, the movement throwing her off enough to tumble into the snow.
“Oof!”
Bowie grinned at her.
Býleistr’s laugh rang out across the ice.
“I take it back,” he said. “That was well worth it. Now, have you had enough of this nonsense, my Queen, or might we go back inside?”
In-Unga was already back on her feet. “Do whatever you want, Býleistr. I’m not finished yet.”
This time, she went to Brynjarr. He was still lying down, despite all the ruckus.
“Okay,” she murmured, scratching his ear. “Take 2.”
Bowie whined. In-Unga turned around to see him lying down with his head between his paws, eyes wide and repentant. “Oh, hush!” she said, rolling her eyes. “You had your chance.”
Pulling herself on to Brynjarr’s back was surprisingly easy, likely because he actually listened to her when she told him to stay still. It took her a minute to get situated and comfortable, seated in a position where she didn’t feel like she was immediately going to slip off. She wondered if she should have a saddle made. But she felt like that would be too complicated—they’d have to get measurements from the wolves since no such saddle had ever been made before (to her knowledge, at least), all the while working on the assumption that Bryn and Bowie would even wear such a contraption.
Besides, she told herself, Daenerys Targaryen rides her dragons bareback without problem, right?
Yes. That was definitely the type of logic she needed to live her life by.
In-Unga clutched his fur as tightly as she could. “Okay, Bryn,” she said, tapping his neck. “Up!”
The wolf rose to his feet in one fluid, graceful motion that nearly sent her sprawling again. Oh boy. She tightened the grip of her legs around his sides. If I die today, blame George R.R. Martin.
She was high. Extremely high. Geez, she had to be at least ten feet in the air! Since when had her babies gotten this big?
Býleistr cleared his throat. “So,” he said, looking up at her (Býleistr had to look up at her!), “Are you just going to sit up there all day or do you plan on doing something? Because if not I would like to remind you that—”
“Hold your horses, Bý.”
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
In-Unga ignored him. She leaned forward to flatten herself against Brynjarr’s back. “Okay buddy,” she whispered, tapping his shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready.”
He started off slowly, a fact for which she was exceedingly thankful. He crept ahead almost as if he was tiptoeing, so soft that she barely felt his feet on the ground, a far cry from the clodding she was used to with the wooly rhinos. He wandered around in a circle, continually looking back to check if she was still there.
“Good boy.”
They continued riding in a circle for a while. It wasn’t anything grand, and it was certainly a far cry from Hrossþjófr’s vision of her galloping into battle, but there was still something thrilling about being atop such a powerful creature. In-Unga didn’t have any delusions about being in control—she knew damn well the moment Brynjarr decided he had had enough he’d plop down in the snow and she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it—but the illusion of control was enough to make her feel unbelievably powerful.
“Look at me, Býleistr!” she called. “Aren’t you impressed?”
“Exceedingly,” he said dryly. “Are you finished? Remember, we do have things to accomplish today.”
In-Unga frowned. Býleistr was right, of course—she was the Queen of Jotunheim, she couldn’t just spend the entire day playing with her wolves. But on the flip side, she was the Queen of Jotunheim—if she wanted to spend the entire day playing with her wolves, who could stop her?
Just as she was beginning to favor postponing her next few meetings on account of essential wolf training, Bowie rose to his feet.
She sighed. “Bowie, what did I tell you—” The wolf wasn’t listening. He knelt close to the ground, muscles tense as he eyed something in the distance. Brynjarr turned around abruptly, In-Unga grabbing at his mane to maintain her balance. He too tensed, staring unblinkingly into the snow.
She squinted into the distance. At first, she couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary, but the tiniest movement of white fur soon gave it away. A kanína. They were smaller, rodent-like creatures that lived all over the place, not unlike the rabbits she knew from Earth. Their meat was extremely tough, practically inedible to giants and mortals alike, but her wolves loved to hunt them.
Uh oh.
“I think I’m going to get down now,” she said, patting Brynjarr’s neck. “You can chance down that furball once I’m on the ground. Lie down.” Bryn didn’t move. Oh dear.
She tried again, more authoritatively. “Brynjarr, lie down! Brynjarr—” She cut herself off with a very unqueenly shriek as the kanína bolted, the wolves bolting after it.
All In-Unga could do was hold on for dear life. The wind smacked her face as they picked up speed, whistling so loudly in her ears that she could only barely hear Býleistr shouting her name. The landscape flashed by in a blur of color.
Holy shit holy shit holy shit!
“Bryn!” she screamed. “Bryn, stop!”
It was like riding a giant rocking horse running at the speed of light. Straightening up was out of the question, so she flattened herself against Brynjarr’s body and tried to sway with his movements. To the left, she could barely make out Bowie running alongside them, leaping so far that it looked like he was flying above the snow.
Just breath. Focus on breathing. Don’t think about how much it’ll hurt if you fall. Just focus on breathing.
Although… it wasn’t that bad. The longer she held on, feeling the vibration of their paws travel up her spine, the more her panic began to fade. She pushed up a little, risking a glance over her shoulder at the distant dot that was Býleistr. Shit. They were going fast.
Exhilaration flooded her body. This is what Hross had been talking about!
In-Unga, Charmer of Wolves
For a moment, she felt like a superhero.
When she hooted, the wolves howled with her. The kanína was still running in front of them, scrambling to stay ahead, but its time was up: Bowie pounced and had the poor rodent dangling in his mouth in a second, snapping its neck like it was nothing. They slowed down, Bowie stopping completely to grin at her with his prize. Look at me, Mom! Aren’t you proud of me?
In-Unga laughed. “Good boy.”
Trotting back to Býleistr was slightly less thrill-inducing now that she could actually see where they were going without getting pelted in the face with wind. In-Unga made a mental note to have a pair of goggles made for any future wolf-runs.
“So what do you think?” she asked, grinning down at her brother-in-law.
Býleistr gaped at her. He shook his head. “I don’t know why I still haven’t learned to just expect this madness from you.”
She snickered.
After that, wolf rides became a part of In-Unga’s daily routine. Every afternoon she’d climb onto Bryn’s back and take off into the snow for about an hour, flying across the countryside with only her wolves for company. That last detail drove Býleistr mad.
“You are the single most important individual on this planet,” he snapped at her one day. “And, if you’ll excuse my saying so, likely the most vulnerable as well. You need to take a guard with you.”
“I can take care of myself, Bý,” she replied nonchalantly from where she sat with Bowie in front of the fireplace. “You should understand that as much as anyone. Besides, the wolves will take care of me.” Bowie looked up with a grin, thumping his tail against the stone floor in enthusiastic agreement. Býleistr rolled his eyes.
“And when you go flying off their back while they’re running at full speed? How will they protect you then?” He shook his head. “I’d doubt they’d even notice you were missing.”
“That will never happen,” she said stubbornly. “I’d never fall off, and they’d never leave me behind.”
It was easy to sound fearless while bathed in the warmth of the fire, but there were moments where In-Unga was a little less sure of herself (although she’d stab herself before admitting such to the prince). The landscape around Utgard was high and rocky, and although her furry companions were sure footed, she often found herself swallowing her heart as they scampered up craggy ledges.
Still, every hair-raising experience she survived increased her confidence in her abilities as a wolf-back rider and encouraged her to go farther. She taught Brynjarr to understand her commands just by the way she shifted her weight on his back. Luckily, he picked it up easily— trying to yell instructions with the wind blasting in her face got old very quickly.
Bowie took a little while longer, but they got there eventually. He wasn’t as much of a fan of having In-Unga on his back, but he also wasn’t a fan of being left out, and weeks of watching his brother get all the attention for carrying the queen wore him down. Soon enough, she could ride him as well as Bryn.
They tended to keep to the rocks on their journeys. Running through the caves would have been a lot easier, as well as less windy, but the caverns that Loki had carried her through when she first arrived on Jotunheim were haunted by ghosts of memories In-Unga couldn’t bring herself to face. Instead, she stuck to sights less sacred: mountainous cliffs and jutting rocks that Bryn and Bowie loved to race each other around, places so far off the beaten path that there was no chance of stray flashbacks popping up to punch her in the gut.
Sometimes, on the way back from the palace, she’d ride through town. It was a risk, of course, but then again when was anything not? She always wanted to laugh at the crowd that gathered whenever she came through, at the way her people’s eyes would bulge at seeing the giant wolves plodding down the road completely unphased. They would whisper amongst themselves, just as they did that first time she came to the marketplace with Griep, but the words were slightly different.
In-Unga. Vargdröttning.
Usually, she made a point of stopping at some small vendor and purchasing something— a dagger, a blanket, a piece of jewelry— the item didn’t really matter to her. She just liked interacting with her people, asking them about their families, checking up on their wellbeing. With everything that had gone wrong in the past few years, she felt that was the least she could do. That too was reminiscent her trip with Griep. So much had changed since then, and yet still so much was the same. Back then, the Jotuns hadn’t known what to make of a mortal wandering through life on Utgard as if she belonged there. In-Unga got the feeling that they still weren’t sure what to make of her now, but they treated her with respect and grace and that was all she could ever hope for.
Some of the changes hurt. The absence of her Forest Twins was an ache she carried with her everywhere she went. In-Unga had never really realized how deeply she depended on them both until they were gone. Now, without them, she missed them everywhere. At the table during meals. In the throne room when she held court. Just walking through the halls—it was such a silly, stupid thing, but she felt naked making her way through the palace alone even now, a couple years after she lost them.
Most times during her afternoon ride, she’d dismount at the top of some mountain and let Bowie and Brynjarr hunt for a bit. She’d find a rock to sit on, sheltered from the wind, and make a list of all the things she wanted to tell them. How she had been trying to teach Huld to play gin rummy, but Bowie ate half the deck. How Hross had written that Dagný had finally said her first word: daddy. How Býleistr was all pissed off because Bryn had somehow gotten into his greenhouse while In-Unga had let them out to hunt and knocked over some important plants from Alfheim.
Griep would have gotten a kick out of that last one: in the months before everything went wrong, Gjálp had been spending a suspicious amount of time in Býleistr’s greenhouse, something her sister and In-Unga had been relentlessly teasing her about. You know, payback for all the teasing she had doled out over the years. She had been getting pretty annoyed about it.
“I don’t know what the two of you have gotten in your heads,” she had scowled. “Prince Býleistr was simply showing off his imported aster flowers. They only bloom for a short period of time—”
“Riiight,” In-Unga said, smirking. “That’s definitely what he’s been showing you.”
Gjálp sputtered, scandalized, while Griep exploded into a fit of very uncharacteristic giggles.
On her rock in the middle of the snow, In-Unga giggled too. It was nice, having these quick little moments where she could almost trick herself into thinking that everything was fine. They were fleeting though. By the time her wolves returned to her, a few minutes later, she was sobbing uncontrollably.
She missed them so much.
But with everything that had changed in the past few years, everything that had been uprooted and ripped to shreds, at least there remained one constant in her life.
Periods still sucked Hel.
Regardless, In-Unga always tried to carry on with her day as usual. She was the queen, after all—she couldn’t be seen as weak. So, she’d hold court like everything was normal, sit up straight on the throne and pretend she didn’t feel like someone was wringing out her insides like wet laundry. If the giants around her noticed the stench of blood (which of course they did), they knew better than to bring it up.
But today had just been too much. Meetings heaped on top of meetings, every new face bearing a different demand or a different complaint, every new conversation only exacerbating the ache in her head and the knots in her stomach. By noon, she called it a day.
In bed, burrowed into her nest of blankets, In-Unga existed in the frustrating in-between: too tired to be fully awake, but too uncomfortable to drift off to sleep. She buried her face in her pillow and cursed the blizzard outside. It seems periods always worsened with the cold.
From the doorframe, Bowie whined. Brynjarr had easily accepted the reality that there would be no afternoon run today, instead electing to pass out at the foot of the bed, but his brother did not give up so easily. If In-Unga hadn’t felt so awful, she would’ve laughed at him—the doorway to her bedroom was far too narrow for the giant wolf. He was just barely managing to squeeze through.
He whined again.
She groaned. “Can’t play with you right now, buddy.”
Rolling over, she nestled deeper under the covers, seeking protection against the biting cold. It was a useless attempt. She never seemed to be able to get warm anymore.
Bowie padded over to her bedside, his claws drumming on the floor making him sound like some sort of depressed tap dancer. He snuffled at her hair.
“Go away, Bowie,” she muttered when he pressed his clammy nose to her forehead. She pushed his giant head away halfheartedly. “Lie down with Bryn.”
Suddenly, the whole bed dipped, and the giant wolf was attempting to snuggle his way into to her blankets.
“Bow—” she tried to push him away again, with even less effort than before. “You’re too big!” But with a final push, he nuzzled under her blankets next to her, grinning widely and smacking her face with a mouthful of doggy breath. In-Unga winced.
“Such an attention hog,” she groaned, even as she reached to scratch the fur under his chin. “You don’t even care that I’m trying to rest, do you?” He snuggled closer, sighing in contentment when In-Unga shifted so that she was resting her head on his fluffy neck rather than her pillow.
“Yes, you’re a good boy. I’m sorry. I’m just having a bad day.” She heaved a sigh of her own. “Do you know what my small council said to me, first thing when I sat down?”
He cocked his head. In-Unga took that as a sign to continue.
“They think I should get married. Remarried.” She swallowed bitterly. “They said it would help ‘maintain my legitimacy as queen.’ As if I’m not already fucking legitimate!” She smacked the mattress with her palm, glaring at her wolf. “Do you know the shit I went through to get to this point?”
Bowie whined.
“Right, of course you don’t,” she apologized. “You weren’t born yet. But take my word for it, it was a lot.”
On the floor, Brynjarr shifted in his sleep. In-Unga continued.
“And then there’s the whole subject of heirs. ‘Your Majesty, since you failed to have a child to King Loki before he died, you have no one to advance your lineage’—yes I’m well aware of that!” she shouted at the ceiling, blinking the steaming tears from her eyes. “I’m reminded of that fact every damn day of my life! I don’t need you to tell me!”
Her nose was running. She wiped it angrily with the heel of her hand. They had been trying to have a baby, her and Loki. After years of pushing it off, waiting for things to stabilize, they had finally felt ready. Loki had told her not to be frustrated if she didn’t get pregnant right away.
“Our biologies are fundamentally different. It may take some time.” They had been in bed, tangled up in each other under the cover of darkness. In-Unga could still feel his breath in her hair when he leaned down to kiss her head. “Don’t worry, dröttning. We’re in no rush.”
He had gotten called away a few months later, her womb still empty.
“They had a whole list of men they thought would be suitable,” she muttered to Bowie, blocking out memories that hurt too much to touch. “They had organized it all and everything. I felt like the Bachelorette. Totally ridiculous! And they had the audacity to look at me like I was the crazy one!”
The way they had stared at her, when she categorically refused to even consider their proposition. “But my queen, don’t you want to have children?”
Yes. Yes she did. She wanted to have children whose ebony hair matched their father’s, who carried both his intelligence and his mischievous streak within them. She wanted to see her husband’s eyes light up when they learned a new magic trick, wanted to laugh at the regal King of Jotunheim crawling around the room on his hands and knees with his toddler giggling on his back. She wanted to cradle her baby and smile at its sleeping face in awe, wondering at the perfect mix of her and the man she loved so much, a mix that could exist with no one else.
Yes, she wanted to have children. Loki’s children.
In-Unga ran her fingers through Bowie’s fur. “He’s not coming back,” she whispered. “I know that. I’ve made my peace with it. But I can’t pretend that it’s okay. I can’t just… replace him.”
Bowie licked her cheek with a tongue the size of her entire face. In-Unga sputtered, snorting. “Ugh… thanks buddy.” He nodded, moving to rest his head on her stomach so she could scratch his ears. She stroked his long fur absentmindedly. The wolves were the closest thing to children she was ever going to have. She was at peace with that too. Her advisors may not understand, but they didn’t have to. She had done so much for her kingdom. They could give her this.
And so time marched on. Winter turned to spring, spring to summer, then back to winter again, over and over as if nothing had ever happened.
It was a quiet night in her quarters when things changed.
In-Unga was skimming over a document by the fire, having abandoned the desk in favor of the furry rug, a warm blanket, and her wolf-pillows. Bryn’s eyes were fluttering. Bowie was already fast asleep, sighing contently. Behind them, Huld softly cleaned up the remnants of the late dinner she had eaten alone in her room. Save for the crackling of the flames, the room was silent.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to focus on the lines of script. The flickering light was almost hypnotic—In-Unga leaned against Bowie’s back to rest her eyes for a moment and found herself unable to sit back up.
She yawned. Probably time to call it a night. Still, she felt so nice here—her bed would be large and cold, and she’d have to get up and walk all the way to the next room to even get there…
In-Unga was just beginning to doze off completely when the high-pitched beep nearly scared her out of her skin.
The wolves were on their feet immediately, knocking her out of her reverie and barking so loudly the room shook. The beeping continued, shrill and ear-piercing, and In-Unga cursed under her breath as she pulled herself up.
I live in a damn circus.
Huld was standing at the table, hands over her ears and red eyes trained on the corner of the room. “Your majesty!” she cried. “It’s the thing!”
In-Unga followed her gaze to the telephone-like communicator Tony Stark had created for them, back when everything was nice and happy and Thor had convinced everyone it was a good idea for Jotunheim to have some method of contact with the Avengers. For the first time in five years, it was flashing red.
She made her way across the room in a fog. The last time it rang… that call had broken her. Broken everything. Told her that the hopeless mess her life had turned into would be here to stay, and that she would have to clean it up alone. In-Unga hadn’t touched the device since. What could Earth’s Mightiest Heroes possibly have to say to her now?
Still, it couldn’t be worse than last time, could it?
In-Unga hushed the wolves, who fell silent at her command, and picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
Agent Romanov’s sharp voice said her Midgardian name. “How have you been?”
“Alright, I guess, considering everything,” she answered cautiously. Somehow, she doubted that after half a decade the assassin had just decided to phone for a social call. “Is everything okay?”
She was right. “We’re working on something,” Agent Romanov said. “We’re not positive how everything’s going to turn out, but at the moment, things are looking good. I thought you should know, just in case things get crazy.”
In-Unga frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“The Snap,” she said. She inhaled softly. “We think we can bring everyone back.”
In-Unga’s heart stopped.
For a moment, she just stood there, barely comprehending her words.
We can bring everyone back.
Romanov said her name again. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah,” she said shakily. “Are—are you serious? You going—how is that even possible? You said before—without the stones—”
“I know,” the assassin said. “We still need them. But Stark’s come up with something that would allow us to retrieve them before they were destroyed. We’ve planned out where they are across the timeline, the easiest times and places for us to access them—”
“Wait.” In-Unga’s head was spinning. “Retrieve them before they were destroyed?” She had to be misunderstanding. Surely Romanov wasn’t suggesting what it sounded like she was suggesting. “How is that possible? Unless you have a—”
“Time machine?” There was a wry smile to Romanov’s voice. “Yeah, that’s about right.”
“What?”
“It’s a long story, but like I said, Stark’s come up with something,” she continued. “I know it sounds insane, but we’ve proven it works—we ran a test with Barton, and Lang basically did it unintentionally for five years—”
“Lang?” In-Unga asked weakly.
“You don’t know him. But my point is it’s possible.”
It’s possible.
“Time travel,” she said. “That’s what’s happening? I haven’t gone crazy, you’re actually telling me you can time travel?”
“Well, you did marry the guy who attacked New York, so I can’t say you’re not crazy,” Romanov said. In-Unga was so overwhelmed that the poor attempt at humor didn’t even bother her. “But yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
They’re going to bring them back. In-Unga was shaking. Loki, Griep, Gjálp… they’re going to bring them back!
“When is this happening? How is this going to happen? Is there something I can do?” The questions tumbled out faster than she had time to think.
“We’re going out tomorrow. Technically speaking, everything will only take a few minutes, so we should have the stones by then.”
In-Unga gasped. “That soon?”
“Yeah. We’re not sure exactly how they’ll work once we have them, but Thanos was able to wipe out half the universe just by snapping his fingers, so we’re guessing it’s not that difficult.”
“So, everyone could be back tomorrow!” The shock was beginning to wear off, replaced by a surge of pure elation. The wolves, sensing her excitement, began barking again. “Hey, shut up! Both of you!”
Romanov laughed. “I didn’t know you had dogs.”
“It’s a fairly new development.” So new that Loki and the Twins never got to meet them. Her eyes were stinging. “Tomorrow?”
“Hopefully, yes,” In-Unga had never known Romonov to sound so excited. “That’s why I wanted to get into contact with you. We’re not sure how this will work, what kind of widespread effects it can might cause. I thought you deserved a heads up.”
She nodded. “Thank you. Will you let me know when you get back with the stones?”
“Sure thing.”
“Well…” In-Unga wondered if she was dreaming, if she was going to wake up and curse her stupid brain for letting her hope for a moment. But this was real. This was happening. “Good luck!” she said into the receiver, pulse thrumming.
She could hear the smile in Romanov’s voice. “Thanks. I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”
In-Unga set the receiver down in a daze. When she turned, both her wolves and her maid were staring at her with eyes so wide it was practically comical.
“Huld,” she said quietly. “Get Býleistr in here, would you?”
She spent the next day huddled next to the communicator, anxiously tapping her feet on the stone floor.
Býleistr had been willing to hold court in her place today, but he had been less inclined to share her eager optimism.
“The past has already been written, In-Unga,” he said softly. “That’s not something anyone can change.”
“But there’s a chance they might,” she cried. She pushed the hair out of her face. “A chance. That’s more than we’ve had for the last five years!”
“Getting your hopes up will only cause yourself more pain when they fail. You’ll be grieving all over again—"
“I never stopped grieving,” she whispered. Her eyes were damp again as she looked back up at Býleistr. He sighed.
“I hope it works,” he said. “I do. It’s just—” he cut himself off, shaking his head and abruptly standing up to leave. “Goodnight, your Majesty.”
Behind her, the wolves paced back and forth, whining softly as they picked up on her nervous energy. In-Unga couldn’t tear her eyes away from the phone. Had they left yet? Was everything going to plan? She let out a worried breath. If only there was something she could do. Something besides just sitting here and feeling useless.
By the afternoon Romanov still had not called and In-Unga had completely chewed through her bottom lip. She should have heard something by now. She was certain of it. Hadn’t Romanov said that it was only supposed to take a few minutes?
Huld brought her lunch at around noon. In-Unga left it on the table untouched. She wasn’t hungry. In fact, she felt like she was going to be sick.
Bowie was scratching at the floor. The sound of his nails dragging across the stone put her even more on edge than she was already, but he ignored her when she told him to stop. In the corner, Byrnjarr growled softly.
Her room was warmer than usual. She found herself shrugging off the blanket she usually kept draped across her shoulders in her quarters and letting it fall to the floor. Out of nowhere, she felt confused. Nothing was the way it was supposed to be. Everything was happening at once. It was overwhelming—so overwhelming. She couldn’t think— wait.
These aren’t my feelings.
In-Unga shot up so quickly she knocked her chair over. Bowie and Bryn were on their feet in less than a second, bouncing around and barking at the top of their lungs. With shaking hands, she reached for her neck, for what had become nothing more than an old scar these past five years. At the brush of her fingertips, sparks shot through her skin.
Her gasp melted into messy sobs. “Loki.”
Outside, people were shouting, voices blending together into an amorphous blob of noise. Someone pounded at her door.
“Your Majesty!” Njal shouted. “Your Majesty, something is happening—”
They’re back. They’re all back…
In-Unga barged through her door without a word to her guards, dashing down the hallways at lightning speed with Brynjarr and Bowie trotting at her heels. There were people everywhere—servants, nobles, people gasping, people embracing, people running through the halls like maniacs like her—In-Unga ignored all of them. She flung herself down the stairs with her wolves still behind her.
The room she was rushing to hadn’t been touched in five years. She had felt stupid, giving that order, but having someone else move in was admitting that they were gone forever, and she couldn’t do that.
But it didn’t matter anymore.
In-Unga was completely out of breath by the time she flung open the door. The woman standing in the middle of room looked up as she pressed her fingers to her temple, red eyes furrowed in a frown.
“In-Unga,” she asked. “What is—”
Gjálp didn’t have time to finish before In-Unga crashed into her in a bear hug, bawling.
She sputtered. “In-Unga—”
“You’re back!” In-Unga sobbed. “You’re back! You’re back!”
Gjálp returned the embrace tentatively. “What is happening? What—Norns!” She stiffened, yanking In-Unga backwards. The mortal queen turned to find that Bryn and Bowie had followed her into the room and were now looming over the couch with all the intimidation of a pair of overexcited Labradors.
“Oh no, it’s fine—” In-Unga hiccupped, finding words astonishingly difficult to control in the moment. “Mine. They’re mine. Don’t worry! Uh—lie down!” Thankfully, they obeyed without an issue, their tales flying around like propellers. “See?” She gulped, turning back to Gjálp. She gripped her wrist, just to remind herself that this was real, and she wasn’t dreaming.
“You’re back,” she whispered again, hoarsely.
“You keep saying that,” Gjálp said, still frowning suspiciously at the wolves. “What happened? Where am I back from?”
In-Unga let out a wet laugh. “You were gone. He got the stones and took out everyone—half of everyone, half of everyone everywhere,” she laughed again, because it suddenly sounded funny saying out loud with Gjálp staring down at her like she had lost her mind. Maybe she had. It didn’t matter anymore.
“Your Majesty.”
They both jumped at the unfamiliar voice behind them. In-Unga turned to find herself face to face with a man—a human man, with a goatee and red cloak, standing in the middle of a ring of fire. In a second, the wolves had flanked her, teeth bared and growling.
Shit, I guess I have lost my mind.
Gjálp was the first to find her voice. “Who—what—how did you get in here?”
The man ignored her. “Your Majesty,” he said, facing In-Unga. “I am Dr. Stephen Strange of New York.”
The name vaguely stirred something in her memory. “You died in the Snap,” she said. “You were with Mr. Stark.”
Dr. Strange nodded. “The effects of the Snap may have been reversed, but this isn’t over yet.”  He fixed her with a solemn stare. “Your husband needs your help.”
Somehow, she had known he was going to say that. A wave of resolution washed over her. Standing straight, she wiped her cheeks. “What do you need me to do?”
The smoke was stifling. Strange had said it was a war zone, but In-Unga hadn’t expected for even the upstate sky to be blackened with debris. She had been to this compound before, years ago with Thor and Loki. It had felt a bit like stepping into the future, with the manicured lawns and the crisp white doors that whooshed as the slid open automatically. It had been nothing like the scorched wasteland flaring before her. The smoke was so thick she could barely make out the looming warships hovering over the skyline.
The dark warriors lined the horizon, a mass of limbs extending far beyond her range of sight. In-Unga squared her shoulders as she road through the portal. She could see him, standing in the middle of all this destruction, the golden light of the portals casting shadows on his purple skin. For so long, he had been faceless to her, the untouchable enemy who she had never seen but whose name she fell asleep cursing every night. And yet here he was in the flesh, living, breathing, vulnerable.
Thanos.
Brynjarr howled. From her perch atop his back, In-Unga felt the vibration in every part of her body. Bowie joined in, his usually mournful cries dark and full of promise. The sound mixed with the battle cries from portals down the line, words chanted in languages she didn’t speak, but in sentiment she understood perfectly.
You took everything. Now we’re taking it back.
The Jotuns behind her understood too. With deep voices, they answered the cries with chants of their own, shouts crescendoing with every individual rushing through the portal. Utgard had been in such chaos that she hadn’t expected anyone to rally to her call, but vengeance was a powerful motivator. She had stood on the balcony and told her people that the one responsible for their suffering was out there, still struggling to once again rip their loved ones from their arms, and just like that, her armies mobilized.
Now here she was, Queen In-Unga of Jotunheim, facing down the enemy atop a howling vargr, her soldiers armed and ready behind her. She felt strangely calm.
I’m bringing Loki home.
He was here somewhere. Even if Strange hadn’t told her how he had been resurrected on the plains of Wakanda with the other fallen warriors, she would have known. She felt his steely resolve as he prepared for battle, let it swirl and mix with hers across the battlefield.
This is it.
When Thor shouted, she screamed with him. And then they were all running. The appeal of two nine-foot-tall wolves in combat was quickly apparent: her babies tore through alien fighters like rare steaks. Brynjarr didn’t even need to be directed; he seemed to know exactly where to go, when to duck, when to tackle. Bowie cleared a way through the chaos, trampling everyone in his path.
They zig-zagged across the battleground, In-Unga pressed tightly into Bryn’s fur to avoid shooting darts of light and projectiles flying through the air every which way, no clue who was shooting them. A roar consumed the land, built from rallying cries and death shrieks, guns shooting and bones cracking, and in the midst of all this pandemonium, she found him.
Loki threw his blades with a catlike grace, completely surrounded and yet completely in control, as if he had never left.
“Bryn!” she steered him left, and he understood instantly. Snarling, the wolves rushed the scene. Loki whipped around in shock, In-Unga barely registering his fleeting moment of confusion as she felt the thud of alien bodies crushed on the ground. When Loki called out her name she found she could barely breathe.
“Down!” she choked at Brynjarr. She slid off his back to unsteady legs and managed to hold back her tears until she threw her arms around her husband.
The battle faded away. She sobbed on his shoulder, drinking in the scent she thought she’d never experience again, relishing the way he gripped her so tightly she felt as though she might break. She clutched at him too, afraid that if she let go he’d disintegrate through her fingers. He whispered her name against her hair, that soft baritone she thought she’d never hear ever again, and she held him even closer.
He was the one to pull away first, cupping her cheek in his palm as he wiped her teardrops with his palm. His green eyes held her in their stare.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
In­-Unga exhaled, the tiniest laugh. Less than an hour ago he had been dead, and he was worried about her?
“Yeah,” she murmured. It was a tiny breath under the rage of battle, but somehow, she knew he heard. “I am now.”
“Come on, you scaredy-cat, it’s fine,” In-Unga laughed from atop Bowie on the beach at Márfjall.
“I’m not scared, just concerned.” Loki stood on the ground besides Brynjarr, the two sizing each other up suspiciously. For the most part, her husband and her wolves had been getting along well—at least, well enough. Bowie was still bitter that his place in In-Unga’s bed had been taken from him, and Bryn was untrusting by nature, but it was getting better. Loki still didn’t understand how creatures that showed such savagery on the battlefield could be so cuddly at home.
“Look, if I can do it without a problem, you certainly can manage.” Bowie whined as he shifted his weight between his feet, anxious to sprint down the red sand. She rubbed his neck and fixed Loki with a pointed stare.
He shook his head, smiling uneasily. “You’ve had five years of practice, love.”
“Yeah, which I never would’ve got if I hadn’t gotten on first.” She turned back to the small group watching behind them. “Give me some help here!”
Griep frowned, holding Dagný in her arms. “I don’t know, In-Unga. I don’t think vargrs are meant to carry people.”
“I thought you liked animals—”
“It’s a giant vargr—”
“Now, my precious ice-heart” Hross said, intertwining his fingers with hers. “In-Unga has proved time and time again that there are those more than capable of riding a wolf. Both myself and Prince Býleistr can attest to that.”
Býleistr chuckled. “She fell off the first time she tried.”
“No, no!” In-Unga whipped back to Loki. “That was on Bowie, because Bowie likes to be difficult.  Brynjarr has never given me a problem, which is why you’re going to try riding him.” Bowie gave an offended snort.
“I still can’t believe you can tell them apart,” Gjálp said. “They look exactly the same, smell exactly the same—”
“I told you, Bowie is the one with two different colored eyes!”
“But when you can’t see their eyes—”
Dali pulled at Hrossþjófr’s free arm. “Wanna ride wolf!”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” In-Unga groaned. “Loki, get on the damn wolf before I give your spot to a toddler.”
Loki huffed indignantly, but he pulled himself over Bryn’s back and into a sitting position. “Happy, wife?”
“Ecstatic,” she tried to maintain her stern, but the sight of him balancing haphazardly on the back of her wolf made it hard not to grin like an idiot. “Now, tell him to get up.”
“Get up, wolf,” he said emotionlessly.
Brynjarr looked at her in exasperation. Are you kidding me with this guy?
In-Unga sighed. “Tell him nicely.”
He through his hands in the air. “It’s a wolf!”
“Loki…”
“Fine.” He looked back down at Bryn. “Get up wolf, please.”
Behind them, Hross was cackling uncontrollably. In-Unga rolled her eyes. “I think that’s the best he’s gonna do Bryn,” she said. “Come on, up, up!”
Brynjarr grunted, but still hopped to his feet far more quickly than usual. Loki gasped as he struggled to right his balance. She pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle her giggles.
Loki scowled. “I hear you snickering over there. This is why I didn’t want to do this.”
“What do you mean?” she asked innocently. “You’re doing great, sweetie!”
He glared.
Oh, if looks could kill.
“Now what?” he asked sourly.
She leaned forward, clicking her tongue. “Now, you hold on, and try to keep up.”
“What—” Loki was cut off with a cry as the two wolves took off down the rusty beach. In-Unga laughed as they rode alongside each other, Loki clinging desperately to Bryn’s fur. His startled expression morphed into something more sinister when he noticed her amusement.
“I’m going to get you for this!” he yelled over the wind.
She grinned. “You better!”
In-Unga wouldn’t have it any other way.
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icharchivist · 3 years ago
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cries think I made my ask too long so like half of it got deleted bc I typed it right into the askbox. anyways. I come bearing a3 thoughts! at first i was gonna watch the spring/summer and autumn/winter ones and then give my thoughts on both but. turns out i had too many thoughts lol? which i shouldve expected but i actually kind of... got bored by the first two chapters of this event! so i skipped and went to the stranger. and then went back. (1/?)
and then i got to like "tsuzuru and kazunari are having a fight?" and jumped on that like a starving wolf bc helllll yeah! i rly adored kazunari in sardine search, i think he was great! hes just so nice and has good vibes. he and taichi are kind of similar i feel? but i think their respective ages contribute to a lot of difference in their characters. why does it feel like this askbox limit personally wants me dead. (2/?)
anyways! i rly enjoyed the improv scene devolving to a real fight. admittedly i was kinda surprised that the content of that improv wasnt rly too similar to their actual fight? like normally a3 has the story of the play run parallel to like the actual real character drama so i thought the improv might function as the play in this event... it was still good tho. the scene i mean. (3/?)
also i rly liked tenma ragging on them afterwards. like he was mean but. first i adore tenma. second he just felt like. a different meddling type to muku lol? like the vibes he gave me were always like... im going to be a considerate leader and watch out for the ppl under me! therefore im gonna make sure theyre doing fine! aggressively. i think tenmas also just like a friendly person who likes to take care of others in general? like im not saying hes omi or anything but just like. (4/?)
that time he offers his car ride to juza so they can go to school together like hes surprisingly open compared to his initial prickliness. also ive got thoughts abt the tenma juza SSR conversation thing i read. one day ill make a tenma and juza fic and complete a trifecta haha... but thats something for another day! back to the actual story. the way tsuzuru dives right in after kazunari! that was so nice. like its easy to see how much they care abt each other. (5/?)
to the point where like even while theyre fighting theyre like angry but still like fairly quiet bc i think theyre both at least trying to be considerate of each other. ah the moment kazunari didnt respond to tsuzuru trying to talk to him i KNEW he was sick tho. felt proud of myself for calling that one but also the reason i knew is bc i have used the "character being sick during an argument causing them both to make up with each other" trope myself before so uh. like recognizes like haha. (6/?)
anyways the cg there was fuckin beautiful like kazunari looks so sad in the middle bit but then u see his shy smile? like hes sick but hes also like. happy to be there. idk. lovely. i adore kazu i think hes just deeply sweet to other people. tsuzuru telling him "you make everyone around you feel as bright and cheery as the things you design” is so wonderful too (7/?)
now im thinking. ah tsuzuru probably feels quite drained after a script and such (i know i am when i finish any piece--its like the emotions just rush out of me) so i like to think that like yknow. kazunari dropping by his room or whatever helps him set himself back to normal! but also when tsuzurus like oh u left ur magazines here! i suddenly remembered. wait shit kazunari and tsuzuru arent even roommates. wonder how much they bother masumi lmaooo. anyways overall very good story! (8/?)
some more thoughts: itaru and citron were so cute in this event! just like. citron saying itaru winking makes his heart skip a beat and itaru quoting citrons wrong sayings (which. i am also guilty of today i told my brother "we'll jump that bridge when we cross it" so) also i love how yuki is like "thank god i wasnt partnered with that hack" but like. yuki. u could literally just not talk about him. like its so funny to me yuki is like wow i hate tenma but he wont shut up abt him haha (9/?)
i also was a lil taken aback at hearing itaru go "for the lulz" tbh... like it fits him. but im mad it fits him? anywaysss thats all i had for this one! im gonna watch autumn/winter and go say my thoughts on that soon. sorry the ask was so broken up, idk what happened!
OLA FRIEND! Glad to see your thoughts again omg :3c
tho omg the fact tumblr deleted it all + the ask limit was all so evil D: poor friend.
I'm putting my answer under a read more because. Well. *waves hand* it got long.
The non-play events can be perhaps a little harder to get into because unlike the plays events that you start with a clear idea of at least the main plot (re: "they are preparing a play, i know the leads so i know who it will focus on"), non-plays events take a little longer to first set up what event they're participating in, how to prepare for it, and then bring up the conflict and which characters are going to have something to do with said conflict. So i can understand that they're a little harder to get into when we know the plays awaits.
On top of that, the first few events still were a bit tame because since it was early when the app released, i think they didn't go too heavy at once in case some people were still stuck on earlier chapters (esp since especially Winter is hard to unlock)
ANYWAY glad that it sucked you in on the second read :3c
So glad you were invested in that conflict!
Totally agreeing with you about Kazunari, and very good point about Taichi as well! they aren't the Puppy Pair for nothing :'D (Yuki took one look at both of them together and just Knew. His suffering knows no end (lovingly)). But yeah i think they have a lot in common, they both are the really bright and friendly figure, both also started in overcompensating a bit because both wanted to be popular in some ways.
But we do have, on one hand, Kazunari who wanted that rather late in his life while Taichi always thrived for that, the fact Kazunari made friends easily and it's just that he was scared of getting to the next level, while Taichi always struggled with this quest for popularity. In a way too both of them were at least scared to share a part of them, Kazunari worrying to show his thoughts, and Taichi being a spy and all of that... which impacts them really differently considering the guilt it puts on Taichi. And then you add their age into the mix, especially the fact Kazu is the oldest of his troupe and Taichi the youngest of his, it makes them fairly similar all while being fairly different.
both are so interesting to me and i love them bothhh, so it's always nice to see them have focus.
admittedly i was kinda surprised that the content of that improv wasnt rly too similar to their actual fight? like normally a3 has the story of the play run parallel to like the actual real character drama so i thought the improv might function as the play in this event
i love how you are seeing the patterns a3 tends to do it's so neat!
It's true the fight isn't really similar to their actual fight, though i do love that they had "swapped" their personality for the act and ended up insulting each other for theirr swapped personality. Like, Kazunari insulted part of himself in Tsuzuru's character and Tsuzuru did the same?? and then the fight escalated and the way Kazunari broke character hurts bc it's really that Tsuzuru hit where it hurts. But yeah it still wasn't too relevent to their actual fight, though i think the thing is that their fight was as such mostly because they tend to clash often due to their personalities rather than just this singular reason why, so to have the play go more "it's their personalities the problem" kinda hurt lol. But yeah still agreed that it didn't reflect much on the plot itself
I was rereading the improv bit to answer correctly and man since we're going to talk about Tenma next, i just. Love that when Kazunari, breaking character, his eyes sad, tells Tsuzuru "you have no rights talking to me like that..." it then cuts on Tenma being upset. Bc like. Exactly like you say, he wants to look out for the people under him. and like. Kazunari is his friend. A friend he also snapped at once and insulted for being who he was, so he probably could have relived a bit of his fight with Kazunari seeing those two fights; Except that now Kazunari is one of his closest friend and he doesn't like that.
Also like. It was also because he could still hide under the plot of the improv but it's so rare, and it never happened before that point, that Kazunari stands for himself in a "the way you treat me is unfair"? Like again re: his fight with Tenma, when Tenma snapped at him, while Tenma was unfair with him, Kazunari took the blame, called himself annoying and all yaknow?
The fact Kazunari is starting to accept that he can take more place for himself is something the whole Summer Troupe have been trying to help him work on, but especially Tenma. Tenma is always there trying to push Kazunari to say what he means, to express his feelings, to stop hiding.
And for once, Kazunari does that in front of everyone... and it's because he's breaking because of his fight with Tsuzuru.
I think Tenma probably felt it was even more of a reason to get involved like, this is the thing he's been working on with Kazunari about, and now he's being all hurt about it, not on Tenma's watch!
And i totally agree with your take on Tenma! (and would LOVE to read the Tenma and Juza fic once you get to it :3c). I think, Tenma is really caring and is trying to take a place as a caretaker and all, but unlike Omi, he has absolutely no reference for it.
Omi is the eldest of multiple brothers and everything indicates his parents have always been lovely to him. Add to it how he ended up leader of a delinquent crew he was clearly looking after, Omi has a history of taking care of people, of nurturing them, and he knows what he's doing. Meanwhile Tenma grew up on TV sets, mostly surrounded by adults and not by people his age, mostly getting advice from being ordered around by directors i think. And his parents are distant, hyperfocused on their job, not really nursing with him. So Tenma meanwhile really didn't have a family emotional support and was in situation where he couldn't befriend other kids his age. His only reference was probably Igawa (his agent) and i think for a long time he didn't exactly see it, and Igawa remained mostly professional so there was probably the idea of it not being sincere? That Tenma had to grow out of.
So like, they're both extremely nurturing and caring, but my point is that Omi has experiences in it and is at ease with it, while Tenma has been so alone and in places were he had no support system that even if he wants to support others, he still struggles with how to do it because he has no set exemple. And that's his development in the main story arc, to learn from how Izumi shows she cares in order to care back at them all.
Like i mean the way Tenma yelled at them about their mistakes at first feel like he would have picked it up from some directors on TV set yaknow? Probably hearing them say that with no consequences on others actors, seeing it worked, didn't think "that's an abuse of power and the actors probably all think badly of their director for that" but "wow that works", tried it on his troupesmates and realized this is... not how that works. And it's spending time watching how Izumi encourages them that have him fix his way to approach it.
So yeah i got lost too into it but like. I feel you on Tenma i love him so much and i love his development so to see him get pissed and involved there? was really nice. even if he was aggressive about it. He's still learning.
ANYWAY back to Tsuzuru and Kazunari, totally agree with what you say next. They still care a lot about each other and yeah they're at a point where this consideration they have for each other make their anger more quiet than trying to attack one another (Banri could NEVER-). so yeah totally agree with you!
DLKFJDLKF i LOVE the reasoning on "recognizing that Kazunari was sick". Your writer's powers making you see through... *coughs* unlike Tsuzuru....
AND YEAH ALL YOU SAY ABOUT THE CG.. YEAH. Kinda crying thinking about it again now LDKJFLKDJF It's just. Everything about it is so soft and tender. The things Tsuzuru tells Kazunari are soo so sweet sobs. They're just adorable i love those kids. and also i feel you for Kazu he's just that great huh?
The whole set up about Kazu dropping by his room is so so cute! I love it! Like probably the very first time Tsuzuru braces himself because "oh no i'm not in the mood to stand mister hyperenergy himself" but Kazunari quickly adjust his energy so that Tsuzuru can just recharge without being overwhelmed. Yes it would drive Masumi completely nuts. Which i think is a plus for Tsuzuru like, hey, if Masumi gets annoyed once in a while it's a win. But yeah also i think that Tsuzuru and Kazunari should really have the Artistic Soldiarity of Students in Art school Probably Working Until Very Late To Complete Their Projects. Would love if at the end Tsuzuru gave it back yaknow?
but yeah their story was really nice i'm so glad you liked it! :D
oh god yeah Itaru and Citron were SO cute in it too, i also love the comments Citron makes about Itaru's winks. Just there flirting in front of everyone like those two embarrassing friends huh. (probably with Muku being all starry eyes considering he greatly admires both Itaru and Citron and, well, Romance.). And yeah i love how Itaru ends up so much into Citron's rhythm (and this idiom you said? is glorious actually, 10 points for you)
DLKFJDLKF what a call out toward Yuki. "yes i hate Tenma,no i won't shut up about him, also if YOU say you hate Tenma i'm going to stab you with my needles, have a nice fucking day.". I love their dynamics so much aha
And yeah Itaru is there cursing us the whole time with the fact he's the greatest nerd ever and it fits him perfectly. It makes me laugh so hard.
Thank you so much for having shared your thoughts there! it's always a blast to read through them and i dearly enjoyed it! (+ it makes me relive the event a little and it makes me soft!)
I'm so glad you enjoyed it! So glad you had so many thoughts about all of this, what a blast.
thank you for sharing, and looking forward the Autumn/Winter reactions :3c
Take care!
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caxsthetic · 5 years ago
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Agape
Iwaizumi Hajime x F!Reader
(n.) the highest form of love. Selfless, sacrificial, and unconditional love; persist no matter the circumstances. Always giving and devotes total commitment to seek the highest and the best.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *. 500 MASTERLIST .* :☆゚. ───
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The venue bathed in brilliant summer sunlight as the season changed. Spring had gone, replaced by summer that rolled into the world, giving warm tingle to everyone’s soul. Today the sky was painted blue, not even a glimpse of clouds could be seen on the horizon right now.
In the countryside, two families gathered together to celebrate this special day. The day when two different families moulded into one to create an endless linkage. The day when two souls become one, to begin an everlasting journey with each other by their sides.
The celebration would be held in a property with a private beach. It was tricky, knowing that too much wind could wreck the entire venue. But the couple took the risk anyway. It was a day that would happen once in their lives, and they wanted it to be special.
At one of the buildings where the groom prepared themselves, a couple of lovebirds could be heard through the entire room. It was soothing and rare to find those birds near the sea. Maybe, it was a sign, hopefully a sign for something greater.
Yellow light from the sun illuminated one of the rooms. A large mirror with gold intrication planted on the creamy wall. The room was filled with clothes, beverages, and some flowers that would be put in the suit pocket later on.
He stood there with a suit wrapped around his figure. The suit was chosen by his best friend, something that he was actually afraid to do since he knew how bad the fashion sense that his best friend had.
But he just had to do it, he cherished the friendship that has been going on for years between him and the professional volleyball player. And right now, he was actually satisfied with how well the suit complimented him. He was muscular, and it was hard to find a suit that was just right. So it made him feel grateful to find one that could glorify his figure perfectly.
Sweat started to form in his forehead even though the air conditioner filled the room he was in at the moment. Another man with soft chocolate hair stood there while humming a tone, the best friend that he cared so much.
“You are too tense, Iwa-chan~” Oikawa sang sung while once again styled his hair to the back, “Everything would run smoothly, I am sure of it!”
“Tch, don’t jinx it, Trashykawa.” Even though his words were malice, the intonation that followed didn’t scream annoyance at all, “I couldn’t believe you actually came, you know.”
The brunette stopped his doing and turned to look at his best friend, the man who was always there for him, even at his darkest time.
“You are my best friend, Iwa.” It was rare to hear the brunette called him without any honorific, knowing well his whole life he had to hear his name with a chan every single day.
The two men just looked at each other, a small smile plastered on their faces like they thought about the same thing, “Even though I am broke as hell to fly here and back to Argentina next week, it was worth it.”
The spiky haired man chuckled to hear the remark. He didn’t actually expect his best friend to accept the invitation, knowing that the professional volleyball player still had another year in Argentina.
But then, this is just a glimpse to show how powerful the friendship that he had. Once upon a time, the brunette even left the chance to go to an elite school because he didn’t get accepted there. It was still imprinted on his heart, to have a friend who would do anything to just stick together. Even though the said school could bring the brunette to a more promising future, his best friend didn’t care.
“Well, I want to be in the same court as you,” It was raining, the two high school boys walked side by side with umbrellas in their hands, “Not as foe, but as a friend, as teammates.”
Oikawa Tooru was someone that rarely showed his real facade. But when he was just with the ace, that’s when his real nature appeared without filter, knowing well that he couldn’t be hurt with the spiky haired boy by his side.
“You are so sappy,” Iwaizumi punched the brunette’s arms playfully, but it ended up more powerful than he thought, making the poor setter winched, “But thank you, Oikawa.” A little smile plastered on his face, “That means a lot to me.”
The brunette was dumbstruck. He really wanted to just take a picture since it was rare to see a gentle smile on his best friend’s face. But then he smiled too, knowing well it was a friendship that would last forever.
“You are always welcome, Iwa.”
The little knock from the door woke them up from the little memories that were running at the back of their head. The groom immediately looked at the grandfather clock at the corner of the room, only to find that it was time.
It was time to finally make you his, the woman that captured his heart in a blink of an eye.
“Ready, Iwa?” His best friend pocketed his hands while looking at him with a playful yet reassuring gaze, “If you are not ready, I don’t mind to be the one who stood at the end of the altar, you know.”
“You are a trash,” That remark annoyed him and he just walked past the cackling man who would never get tired teasing him, “Come on, or Mattsun will take your place as the best man if you didn’t stop laughing.”
The brunette snickered at the threat and followed his best friend outside. Once their feet touched the outdoor pathway, ocean breeze immediately caressed their skin. And for Iwaizumi, it felt like the ocean itself telling him that everything would work out perfectly.
The sun was now seated quietly at the west side of the horizon, lightening up the mood to be warm. Everything it touches would turn into a golden array of sun, enchanted the whole venue like nature gave a blessing already to the event that would unfold in minutes.
He stood in the middle of the aisle, family and friends started to sit in their arranged place. It was a wedding with some rustic touches, flowers embroidered on each of the wooden seats, complimenting nature with each other's superiority.
Slowly but sure, he walked towards the wedding ceremony arch. The wood was simple, painted white to make it look pure. A cordon of lanterns set on each side, lighten up the pathway around the arch. Flowers once again adorned the top of the arch to match the entire venue, some fell to the ground as the wind blew.
“It’s your day,” He jolted a little when he heard his best friend by his side, “I can’t believe you would be the first one who got married.” The brunne pouted. Even though he knew he didn’t think about marriage at the moment, it made him wish he had someone too.
“Well, not my fault you choose only sex and not the love.” Iwaizumi smirked, making the poor man pout even harder, “But thank you for being a trash sometimes,” A smile emerged on his face as he remembered the first time he met you.
“What?” The brunette was at loss, confused by the genuine confession, “Oh!” But then he remembered, he remembered at one point he decided to get early to the gym, leaving the ace behind.
“Trashykawa, crappykawa,” The wing spiker muttered under his breath as he walked alone to the school while rain pouring down from the sky, “I am going to throw some volleyball at him, I-”
Then he stopped all of a sudden when his eyes lain on you. It was raining, and you didn’t look like you had an umbrella or anything to save you from the merciless rain.
You stood on the sideways, body’s shivering with how the weather turned dark all of a sudden. The sun was out when you were out of your house, but luck decided to test you all of a sudden, turning the sunny day to be melancholic.
The fact that you hate getting wet didn’t help you at all. So you decided to just wait until the rain was gone. But after minutes, the sky was still dark, making you let out a long sigh, knowing for sure that you would get stuck here a little bit longer.
“You are Aobajohsai’s student, right?” You yelped when you could feel a hot breath on your neck. It made you shivered more than the freezing temperature, “I didn’t mean to scare you,”
When you were calmed down, that’s when you realised who the boy was. It was Iwaizumi Hajime, the ace of your school volleyball’s team, the boy that with his every movement could make your heart flutter.
You are too starstruck as you look at him, hearts thummering like crazy. You always found the man fascinating. How he cared for his teammates, the respect that he gave towards his opponent, all the little gestures from him was amusing.
And you couldn’t help to just stare at him as you absorbed the warm that he radiated with how close the two of you were at the moment. He was muscular for a high school student, you could see it even when the uniform didn’t do his figure justice.
“Are you alright?” He was genuinely worried with how red you looked right now, “Are you sick? Do you want me to accompany you back home?” The question caught you off guard. Who in their right mind would escort a stranger while they basically were late for school.
“N-No!” You cursed at yourself for stuttering, “I-I am fine, Iwaizumi-san.” He widened his eyes, wondering how he could never see you before. And he felt guilty for not knowing your name right now, “You should go ahead, the bell would ring in a few minutes.”
You fiddled your fingers, staring at him as you tried to usher him away. It’s not that you hate the company, and it would be a shame if the two of you didn’t end up as an acquaintance. But he was a student too, just like you, and you didn’t want to be the reason for his lateness.
“Then let’s go.” He pushed his umbrella to hover on your figure a little, “My umbrella may not be big, but at least it could prevent us from being soaked completely.”
“But, you still get soaked either way!” You tried to protest, “I don’t want you to be sick, you have a game this weekend and I need you- I mean, we need you to be healthy.”
He let out a long sigh when he realised that he just met a stubborn girl. Though he’s not going to lie, your little scold that you threw before made him feel warm inside.
“I am not going anywhere if you didn’t come with me.” But you were not the only stubborn human here, he was too, could be stubborn some of the time, “I will wait here until you agree to come to the school with me.”
You frowned, but in his eyes, it makes you look like an angry kitten instead. And he couldn’t help but blush a little, sadly, it went unnoticed by you.
“Alright, alright. But I want you to be under the umbrella completely.” You stood next to him, keeping some distance, “Come on, then.”
He was thinking of a way to make the two of you completely safe from the rain. Something appeared on his mind, a sight that he had once seen when Oikawa walked with his ex-girlfriend in the rain.
“Can I wrap my arms around you?” The question that he uttered made you lose your composure completely. Imminence blush crept on your face, jaw dropped and mind not functioning, “I am sorry, but I have to.”
Without waiting for your answer, he wrapped his right hand around your torso, making your body to flushed with his. He started to walk, occasionally glanced at you to see if you were soaked or not.
“W-Why are you doing this…” He could hear your little voice as you mumbled under your breath, “You didn’t even know me…”
He was too, didn’t know why he had the urge to just protect you from any harm when you showed how care you were towards him. And he was for the first time, proud for being an ace, making you realise his existence.
But it was just something inside you that was pulling his heart every time you talked. It was still there, tugging inside him as you were now in his embrace. The second he pulled you towards his arms, he felt something that he never had before.
Your body that was flushed with him didn’t only warm his body. But his heart too, started to feel the unfamiliar warm. And right now, he wanted to feel more, he wanted to know more.
He wanted to unfold the feelings that he had right now, and he wanted to do it with you,
“Then let’s change that.” He stated, looking down at you as you looked up, eyes locked with each other, “My name Iwaizumi Hajime, what’s yours?”
You knew you had a crush at the man. But right now, at this moment, you felt more than just a mere crush as the two of you walked under the same umbrella. It was something more powerful, you know what it was.
And you wanted to unfold the feelings that you had right now, and you wanted to do it with him,
“My name is (L/n) (F/n),” You gave him a little smile, realising that your embarrassment started to dissipate as the two of you walked, “But you can just call me (Y/n).”
A chant of violin filled his ears, notify the whole venue that the bride was ready. One by one, family and friends started to stand, eyes focusing at where you were standing right now.
Your hands gripped at your father, tightened when you could feel everyone’s eyes in the room. To say that you were nervous was an understatement of the century. You didn’t dare to look up, eyes focusing on the heel that you wear.
Since morning, you were a nervous wreck, afraid that you would trip even though you wouldn’t wear a stiletto. Your shoes were just a five centimeter heel, nothing that you couldn’t handle in your daily life.
Your father tried to reassure you that it would be alright, but his sweet whisper couldn’t dissipate the anxiousness that was tugging inside your heart.
“Sweetheart, please look up.” The two of you started to walk down the aisle, “Look up, I promise you didn’t want to miss this.”
Taking one last deep breath, you brave yourself to release your gaze and trust your father completely. And right now, you felt like you walked down towards an angel.
He stood there with a warm smile plastered on his face. His spiky hair caressed by the ocean breeze, making him look like he was a star in some kind of romantic movie.
Everything moves like a slow motion as you noted all the little details that unfolded in front of you. He was the first person that could make your heart feel like this, he was the one who could make you live, not just exist.
From the time he shared his umbrella with you, you knew for sure you wanted the event to be replayed for the rest of your life. You wanted to be in his embrace, falling to the deep love that his body conjured.
Your eyes never leave his figure, too transfixed by the magnificent human being that you proudly called your lovers. Slowly, your father gave your hand to him, to be cherished, protected, and loved, forever until the end of time.
And when your hand fell on his, you felt like some kind of power struck inside you, spreading all over your body as it strengthening you. His other hand helped you to arrange the lace on your dress that was unruly due to the wind that blew.
Once the two of you stood on a perfect stance, the wedding officiant cleared his throat, gathering the attention of all family and friends. You looked deep into his eyes, olive green eyes gazed into your soul, suffocating you with immense love.
“To (L/n) (F/n), the angel from the rain,” He called out to you, wanting you to hear every syllables that was out from his lips as he shared his vows, “From the day I met you, I know there was a foreign feeling inside my heart, tugging me to made me come back to you,”
Tears started to appear at the corner of your eyes, and he gently wiped it all away with his thumb, “You have always be there on every step that I took, boosting my confidence, reminding me endlessly that I am loved, even on my worst days,”
At this moment, he really wanted to just smash his lips into yours, but he held himself back, knowing the wait would be worth it, “So, I promise to support you during good times and bad times and to never let this world break your kind, loving spirit.”
He said every syllable with so much passion, letting it roll out from his tongue like it was the words that he had been chanting since he was born. Every word and every promise seeped into your heart, proud to call the man in front of you as your husband.
Being loved by him was like he was the last of your kind. As if he speaks the same language as you that no one could be able to. To be around him was like finally not being alone as when he pulled you to his embrace, it felt like you were strolling in summer meadow.
How was that he was so much more than sunshine? How did he breathe life for you when no other can? Why was that he became your medicine? And by time, no one could love you like he does. So you promised this to him- while you breathe, you would become his in mind, body, and soul.
And when the officiant allowed him to kiss you, he took his time. He cupped your face, caressing your tear-stained cheek with his thumb as he tried to imprint the sight in front of him into his heart.
Because your love was so whole, his missing pieces appeared. Because your touch carried such passion, what was scarred became soft once more. Because you were steady and patient, his open wounds have time to seal and vanish.
Perhaps that is why they say love was such magic, a gift from the universe, a sweet addiction to the someone he was born to find. For with his twin soul, you, the only other born in the same flame as him, the two of you were able to bathe one other in warmth and light as easily as you and him breathe, immune and oblivious to darkness.
And the love that you radiated was sealed, by the first kiss that you shared with him as husband and wife in the middle of the ocean breeze. The kiss that started your journey together, not as you and him, but together, as one soul.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*     ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Tagged Lovelies:
@letmeshouyou @nitricflame​ @vventure @heccingdead @muffins-puffins @miyulovestowrite @nanashinanashi @vlovers-world @proplayer-kenma @kashika @cuddlyasahi @blacckdiamondposts @muffngw @baby-boy-taichi @of-heroes-and-dreams @for-ests @giyuwu-san @oli-imagines @lordeofthunder @miyatsunami​ @benewol @allywritesimagines @tendoustan @iwaixiumi @hihiq @gulfwanq @the-fandom-ness
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coffee-obsessed-writer · 4 years ago
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When You Least Expect It, Part Sixteen
Jensen Ackles x Musician!Reader
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Masterlist - Contains Chapter Links & Wardrobe Collages
A/N: This is a much shorter chapter than the rest, but I hope you enjoy it! 
Spotify Playlist
Series Summary: After a hard breakup, Jensen decides to throw himself into organizing a Music Festival in Austin that is meant to raise money for a few of his most cherished charities and organizations. As he throws himself into planning it, he stumbles upon a spirited, undiscovered performer, who he convinces to come aboard to help plan and coordinate the event with him.
What transpires after that takes both Jensen and his new friend, by surprise. But when their respective pasts come back just before the event kicks off in Austin, they will both have to decide if the unexpected feelings are worth perusing, or if they should just walk away and go on with their lives.
Series Warnings: Language, Break-Ups, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Mild Violence, Talk of Domestic Abuse
Chapter Summary: With the festival rapidly approaching, everyone is both on edge and excited for what lies ahead.
Chaper Warnings: None
WC: 6.5K
Series Beta’d by @closetspngirl​​
Dee
The private investigator Dee hired last Spring had been worth every penny. The information he delivered on Jensen’s new girlfriend gave her more than she could have hoped for. Her plan to contact the little twit’s ex-boyfriend seemed like a good idea at first; but as the weeks turned into months, even Dee could see Nathan’s instability grow. Once word of the incident at Jensen’s brewery reached her, she knew that maybe things had gone too far. All she wanted to do was try and cause some drama, hoping Jensen would shy away from the beach brat he was suddenly so obsessed with and come back to her. But as she sat, nipping at her cuticles while waiting in her rented Beamer for Nathan to show, she realized what a futile effort it had been.
The plan completely backfired, only pushing the two of them closer. Gen had let it slip that Y/N was now living in Vancouver with Jensen, completely bringing Dee’s hopes of a reconciliation crumbling to the ground. Even she had never been asked to move to Vancouver with him while they were together, and was instantly crushed when she heard the news. There was no chance of Jensen coming back to her; Dee knew that now it was a matter of protecting herself. Only God knew exactly what Nathan was capable of, but with the glimpses Dee had caught of him, she seriously began to fear how this would backlash onto her, if her part in everything had come out. 
Everything she had done up until that point hadn’t been illegal, really. All she did was make a few phone calls and provoke a stranger into reacting. Yet somehow she knew that if Nathan was caught, and started talking, her name would be spoken and she’d have some things to answer for. Knowing the light it would paint her in, knowing how it could affect her career, Dee needed to be sure that Nathan would keep her out of it. After all, HE was the one who took things too far. 
Dee turned her delicate wrist and checked the time on her watch; already a quarter past ten in the morning. Nathan had promised to meet her early that day outside of a small diner located in the outskirts of Austin. It was two days before the festival was to kick off, and she just needed a few reassurances before the big day. She still hated Y/N and loved Jensen, but deep down she finally conceded that SHE wasn’t the one he loved; Y/N was. 
Another twenty minutes passed with no sign of Nathan. When she checked her watch again and saw it was nearly eleven, she closed her eyes and felt her stomach bottom out. Dee pushed the start button on her rental and hung her head, long strands of red hair obscuring her face and the handful of regretful tears that ran through her makeup. A soft, yet shaky laugh turned into shaking sobs as the air conditioning began to blow her hair back lightly. She drew in a deep breath and brought her vision back up towards the windshield. Off to the right of the old titanium plated diner, stood a tall, lanky man in a grey hoodie and ripped jeans. She felt his eyes on her and a mild bout of nerves raced through her veins. The man’s hood was drawn tightly around his head, leaving his face in a swirl of shadows. Regardless, she could feel his eyes on her and knew that it was Nathan. 
They had only met in person once before earlier that Spring, and it was a brief encounter at best. Dee had been hesitant to meet face to face, but Nathan insisted. He said he was worried for Y/N, and the kind of people she’d gotten involved with. He was pushy and borderline manic, so Dee agreed to meet at the same diner she was now parked in front of. They drank coffee and Dee listened as Nathan recounted his surprise visit with Y/N. The way he explained it, she had turned her back on him, and then provoked Jensen into attacking him. His expression was concerned and fretful, but Dee knew it had all been an act. She was an actress, after all, and she could spot his lies a hundred miles away. Yet, it didn’t stop her from encouraging him to fight back, and fight for his girl.
The break-in at the condo hadn’t been all her idea, though as she sat in nervous self-reflection, she wouldn’t be able to deny planting the seed of thought in Nathan’s head. But, her little birdies told her that the amount of destruction that had been left was extensive, and far more than she felt comfortable with. 
She killed the engine of the car, again, and slowly opened the driver’s side door. The minute it cracked open, Nathan began to approach her. When he was closer, she could see his features were drawn and his complexion turned ashy. The dark circles under his eyes and the pale tone of his lips caused her brow to furrow.
“Jesus, Nathan. What the hell happened to you?”
Nathan shrugged. “Life.”
“Well, maybe you should rethink the life you’re living if it’s leaving you looking like that.” Dee gave him a good once over, and noticed his hands were shaking. “Are you on drugs?”
He let out a deep, haunting laugh. “What the fuck you know about the drug life, Princess?”
“N-Nothing really, but I’ve been around enough people that do them to know what a junkie looks like.”
“You don’t know shit about shit. What the hell do you want, hm? You nagged me to get here so you could just put me down like everyone else?” His words weren’t threatening, but the tone and body language he delivered them with, was.
“No, I just… shit, man… this all got out of hand. I just wanted to check in, make sure you were okay,” she lied, doing her best to keep her face from betraying her. “I’m concerned.”
“Are you now?” Nathan snorted, and pushed the hood off his head, revealing his shaggy, dirty hair that was plastered to his head thanks to the heat of the Austin summer. “What made you so concerned? I did what you asked. I tried to break them up. But…” he trailed off, his eyes looking in Dee’s direction, but it was clear that he wasn’t actually seeing her.
“I was wrong, okay? Clearly those two idiots are happy together. So, I wanted to tell you that you could stop trying to break them up.”
Nathan shook his head slowly, and in a way that caused a bolt of anxiety to run down Dee’s spine. “Naw, can’t do that.”
“Can’t--can’t do what?”
“Stop trying to break them up…. Y/N is all I got left in this world.”
“But, what if she doesn’t want you? Then what? Do you really want her if she doesn’t want you? You deserve someone who loves you for who and what you are. Don’t get hung up on some past relationship because you think it's what you deserve. Trust me, Nathan, I speak from experience.”
“I give two shits about your experience. Y/N is my girl,” he snarled at her, “...always has been. So why don’t you bug the fuck off and leave me alone.”
“I will, I promise. But first I just need to make sure…” Dee let her words hang in the air, hoping he would get their meaning without her having to actually say it. From his expression, she knew that he got her point, but the concerning grin that unfurled on his face told her he wasn’t going to cut her an inch of slack. “...are you… I mean, can you, leave my name out of it?”
“It?” he asked, goading her into having to say the words.
“You know what I mean.”
“Do I?”
“Jesus.. Fine. Please leave my name out of any involvement with whatever scheme you come up with next? Yes, I wanted them broken up, but the things you’ve done… I can’t be a part of it.”
“Too late, Princess. You’re part of it. And if I go down for any of this bullshit, so do you.”
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Jensen
In the few weeks after their vacation at the shore, Jensen and Y/N were busier than ever. Each day brought some sort of hurdle that one or both of them needed to clear. As days dwindled down towards the start of the festival, they were more determined than ever to make it the best weekend Austin had ever seen. A few last minute additions to the various stage line ups caused some headaches, but they made it work and in the end. Jensen was still in awe watching Y/N handle the musicians, the vendors, the sponsors, the various charity groups involved, and all while she was trying to get her own music set list together. Not to mention practicing via video conference with Robbie and the rest of Louden Swain. 
For most of his life, Jensen always wondered if a woman like her existed. Y/N was by no means perfect; she could be moody, and a bit of a slob which sometimes drove him crazy. Then, he would see her sitting on the couch, legs crossed in some ungodly way, with her head buried in her computer or a guitar on her lap, and any of her imperfections just melted away. Y/N did little else other than eat, sleep and breathe the festival. There were times in those weeks where despite the hectic schedule of planning and also filming the show, he half wished it was over already. Jensen wanted to start his life with Y/N, be with her without the current pressure that sat on both their shoulders. He and Jared had discussed on numerous occasions that maybe it was time for Supernatural to come to an end, giving them the opportunity to explore life outside of their precious Impala. But it wasn’t until those weeks between Seaside and the festival, that he was seriously considering it. 
The idea of not living and working in Vancouver with his best friend normally caused a mild panic to settle into his gut. However, the last time he and Jared had discussed it, they both felt that the end was in sight. Jensen never brought it up to Y/N, never felt like the right time. With all their respective traveling and work loads, trying to plan a future needed to be put on the back burner. As much as it killed him to do so, he knew it was best for both their sakes. He decided once the festival was over he’d bring it up to her. Then, they could make a plan. If there was one thing Jensen knew for absolutely certainty, it was that he didn’t see any type of future without her in it.
They were knee deep in filming the seventh episode of the season, so if a decision was to be made about the future of the show, it had to be soon. Production was shutting down for five days solely so the entire cast and crew could fly down for the festival. Every single one of them had agreed to volunteer, or help out somehow, and it warmed his heart more than he could put into words. These people had become his extended family, a support system when he felt he had reached rock bottom, and some of the best damn human beings he’d ever met.
Filming had wrapped for the extended weekend, and Jensen was feeling that last scene in every muscle and bone. Fight scenes were always fun to block out, but once it got to actually throwing the stuntmen around, and executing the moves on camera it tended to wear him out. As Jensen plodded back to his trailer, both relieved and exhausted, he noticed a light was on inside, and saw the shadow of his best friend moving about. A little smirk twitched on his face as he climbed the metal steps to the trailer and quietly pushed open the door.
Jared was singing under his breath as Jensen walked in unnoticed. Jensen leaned against the door watching him, trying not to laugh as Jared’s head bobbed to the song stuck in his head. It was when Jared started making guitar riff noises that Jensen’s resolve broke, and he started clapping loudly, making his best friend nearly jump out of his skin.
“Bravo my man!” Jensen teased and walked slowly through the large trailer. “Hey, how come we didn’t find you a slot in the festival? With pipes like that--”
“Shut up,” Jared sighed and sat down on the leather couch, still clutching his chest from Jensen’s sudden intrusion. “Damn near gave me a heart attack.”
“Yeah, well, now you know what your singing does to me.”
“I’m sorry, DEAN, I thought we were done filming for today.” Jared rolled his eyes, but was unable to hide his own smile at their banter. “Seriously though, I thought we were done. Took you long enough to get back here.”
“Had to re-block one of the fight scenes. I was completely off my game, man. I don’t know if it’s exhaustion or what, but I could feel myself half-assing it.”
“Dude, do you not realize the year you’ve had? There are times I am amazed you’re still standing.”
Jensen shrugged it off and grabbed two cold beers from the mini-fridge, before handing one to Jared and sitting on the recliner across from him. 
“Not like we haven’t been here before,” Jensen replied, but he knew what Jared really meant. Ignoring the look he could feel coming from the other side of the room, he leaned forward in the chair and finally met Jared’s eyes. “Speaking of… I think me, you and Misha really need to sit down and talk.”
Jared snorted a laugh and nodded. “Yeah, I agree. It’s why I’m here, actually.”
After so many years together, the two friends could talk without words. Due to previous discussions and the telepathy that had developed through more than a decade of friendship, neither had to say what was on their mind. 
Jared raised his beer and Jensen followed suit. They clincked the bottles together in cheers and each took a long draw of the dark brew. 
“To one final season of Supernatural,” Jensen said with Jared nodding in agreement. 
“To one more kick ass ride,” Jared smiled and took another pull from the bottle. 
They sat in silence for a moment, feeling the weight of the decision slowly rolling off their shoulders. The air in the trailer felt lighter somehow, as if just saying the words out loud relieved some of the tension it had contained. 
“Misha on board?” Jensen asked and looked up to see his friend nodding. 
“He is. He’s broken up about it as much as we are, but he knows its time.”
Jensen just nodded and sat back in his chair. “Think we got one more year in us?”
“Damn straight we do. Hell, I know we have another FIVE years in us. Truth is, I think we are just both ready for the next thing… whatever that looks like.”
Again, Jensen nodded in agreement but sat quietly, contemplating what that thing was. “Do you know what you want to do?” 
Jared shook his head. “Not really. A few offers have come in for movies, a new show or two, but nothing that really jumps up at me. I just know I want to be home more, help Gen with the kids. Actually be there and see them grow up.” He paused and looked at Jensen, who seemed a million miles away despite sitting two feet in front of him. “Jay? What about you? Do you know what comes next?”
A hint of a smile pulled at the corner of Jensen’s mouth. “I sure do, my brother. I sure as hell do. I want what you have with Gen. Wife, kids, house… the whole nine. When this festival is over, I’m going to ask Y/N to marry me. Whatever happens after that, doesn’t matter. I just know that my life isn’t complete, unless she’s in it with me.”
Jared nodded in agreement, and despite the heaviness of the decision they had come to, he could see the love and excitement in his best friend’s face. He raised his beer again, “That, is the best damn thing I’ve heard you say in forever. I admit I was skeptical at first, but Y/N brings out something in you I’ve never seen before.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?” 
“Pure, unadulterated, happiness.”
Jensen leaned back in his chair, and for the first time in his life, he knew that no matter what came next, he would be okay because Jared was right. Y/N made him happier and more alive than anything else ever had. The life he had always wanted, with the woman he always dreamed of was right in front of him for the taking.
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Y/N
Forty-eight hours from the start of the festival, and Y/N’s nerves were showing signs of strain from the pressure she had put on herself. She wanted everything about the weekend to be perfect; from the many venues, band line ups, vendors and volunteers. She oversaw everything, right down to the signs that she had the local schools help make that marked each section of the festival. 
The idea had hit her months ago, to divide up the Austin Hometown & Brew Fest into little representations of each major city that was contributing food, drinks and music. Each school district in Austin was responsible for creating colorful signs for each “town”, and as she stood looked through the pictures of each one, her tired heart soared with pride and a surge of adrenaline she desperately needed. When she had been offered the job by Jensen, Y/N never believed for a second she would have the knowledge or drive to pull it off. Yet somehow, here she was--in the home stretch and still running. 
Y/N stared at her phone flipping through the images Bri had sent her, as she walked barefoot through the Vancouver apartment waiting for Jensen to get back from filming so they could leave for the airport. They had a late flight to Austin, which didn’t give them much time, but they could make it work. Somehow, they always found a way. With Robbie, Bri and Mama already in Austin, Y/N knew that everything would get done that needed to, because they were just as invested in this as she and Jensen were and she couldn’t ask for much more than that. Y/N had an amazing crew behind her, a boyfriend she loved more than life, and a future with endless possibilities. 
Just as she felt her stomach rubble, and made her way into the kitchen, the phone in her hand began to buzz. Bri’s name popped up, causing Y/N to smile and forget the hunger pains that nagged her. 
“Hey Bri,” she answered with tired enthusiasm, “everything okay down there?”
“Stop being a worry wort, everything is FINE! I’m calling to check on you. How’s the nerves? Holding steady?”
“Eh, let’s just say I am holding it together. Too much to think about for me to start feeling the heat now.”
“Mhm, okay. Now, you want to try to say that in a way that will make me believe it?”
“Hush, I’m fine. Tired, but fine.”
“If you say so. Honey, I promise you, everything is on track here. Robbie has the venues locked down. The stages are finishing being built, all the lights and equipment have been tested. Mama has the two theaters ready to rock n roll. Hell, even Gen is getting in on things. Do you know she took the kids down to the elementary school and helped them finish up the last few banners. I am telling you, there is nothing to worry about.”
Y/N felt a surge of relief, and let it wash over her taking with it the stress of last minute details. Yet, there was a nagging feeling left she didn’t like. One that settled in the pit of her stomach like a led weight. 
“Bri…” Y/N paused, unsure of how to phrase what she wanted to ask. “...has there been any signs… or even a whiff of--”
“Nathan? No. There hasn’t.”
Y/N sighed audibly and felt her knees weaken at the sound of his name. She hated that even after the months that had passed since the breakin and incident in the brewery parking lot, the sound of his name could bring her such anxiety. 
“You sure?”
“I swear. The police still have an APB on him, all the volunteers and security guards have seen his picture and know what to look for should he be stupid enough to try and get into any restricted areas.”
“Okay.” But Y/N wasn’t totally convinced. She felt it could be her own paranoia and years of history with Nathan, but she needed to focus on the tasks ahead, and not look back on a past that would continue to haunt her, if she let it.
“Listen, it’s late. Tomorrow morning, I’ll meet you at Jensen’s place here in town, and we will spend the entire day going over every last minute detail. You can bite your nails and stress the day away, but for now, go grab some food, take a nap, blast some music… whatever is going to make you chill out. Robbie and I got this. Mama, too. That lady is a force of nature and loves you somethin’ fierce. So if there is any one thing out of place, I guaran-damn-tee, Mama June will handle it.”
Y/N laughed, and immediately conjured an image of Mama bossing Robbie around, while Bri sat back chuckling. “You’re right. Between her, you and Robbie, I really have nothing to worry about.”
“Good girl. Now, how long before your flight leaves?”
“We have to be at the airport by ten, and I think it leaves at twelve thirty.”
“Okay, I’ll have a car there waiting to pick you guys up. Now, I know you two horn dogs can’t keep your hands off each other, but may I suggest some SLEEP when you get to Austin. Big days ahead, and we need you both well rested and ready to kick this in the ass!”
“You know Briana, there are days I truly, from the bottom of my heart, cannot stand you.”
“What can I say, it's a gift. I’ll see you in the morning,” she laughed and made three loud kissing noises.
“Love you too, Bri,” Y/N laughed and shook her head, “See you tomorrow.”
As Y/N ended the call, her stomach reminded her of her promise of cold pizza from the fridge. She placed her cell phone on the counter and began to rummage through the two left over pizza boxes. She grabbed two plain slices, and just as she took a huge bite, her phone began to ring again. Assuming it was Bri calling back, she answered without looking at the caller ID.
“I swear, I am going to eat and take a nap!” she mumbled in protest as an answer, with a mouth full of cold pizza, but no response came. Y/N chewed and swallowed as quickly as she could, thinking that her jumbled greeting may have thrown Bri off. “Sorry, had a mouth full of food. Miss me already?” she teased. 
Again, no answer came, and that weight in her stomach twisted up like a tornado and clogged her throat. 
“Hel--Hello? Bri?” She moved the phone from her face and looked at the screen. Bri’s name wasn’t there, nor was Robbie’s. Instead it just said, Private Caller. “Who is this?”
Five, maybe ten seconds passed, but for Y/N, it felt like an eternity. She could hear someone breathing on the other end, and in her gut, she was convinced it was Nathan. 
When the person finally spoke, it was not the voice she suspected to hear. Not a man’s voice, but a digitally altered one. “Just a warning… cancel the festival, or there could be consequences.”
Y/N was speechless. She stood in Jensen’s kitchen, frozen in place with the phone glued to her hand. Slowly she brought the screen away from her face again, staring at the Private Caller and their ominous warning. She wanted to yell into the phone, curse off anyone who would try and scare her away from everything she’d worked so hard for. But her nerves had been pushed to the edge, and no words were coming from her lips. 
The caller hung up before she could find the strength to reply. Her hunger faded instantly, taken over by a swell of bile rising in her gut. Her good feelings from just moments ago were gone. As she felt herself on the verge of puking, she dropped her phone on the counter, and ran for the bathroom so her empty stomach could purge itself. Once she had gotten up whatever had been left in her gut, she sat back on the cool tile, and rested her head against the wall. Y/N had no strength or will to move; the stranger’s words “...there could be consequences…” continued to repeat over and over in her head. 
Y/N never did get up to get back to the kitchen, and when Jensen returned home a short time later, that’s where he found her; half asleep with a tear streaked face sitting in the corner of the bathroom. He didn’t ask her any questions, but instead sat beside her and gathered her into his arms, leaving a soft kiss on the top of her head. 
“Whatever it is baby, I promise you, we’ll get through it,” he cooed in comfort as she felt herself melt into his side. Assuming it was stress and anxiety over the festival, he held her close there on the bathroom floor until it was time to leave for the airport. 
That’s when she knew for complete certainty, she wasn’t going to tell him about the call. She would NOT let anyone interfere with all they had worked towards; certainly not some piece of shit like Nathan, or a petty schemer like Dee. Y/N would never let either of them take anything from her, again.
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Nathan
He watched as the snotty little redhead and her fancy ass Beamer pulled out of the diner parking lot. Nathan’s face remained stone-like as Dee’s gaze didn’t leave his until she had turned left and sped out of view. Nothing she had said to him gave him a second of pause; no reconsidering, no backing down. Nathan had reached the “couldn’t care less” portion of his actions months ago, and now all he could think about was how to enact the best possible revenge, on all of them. 
Getting lost in his thoughts, he stood motionless in the parking lot, absently watching the traffic pass him by. Austin had a ton of traffic, and people, making it easy for him to blend into his surroundings and stay unnoticed. He knew the cops were looking for him, so he did his best to stay off the radar. It wasn’t until an Austin City cop car slowly passed the diner, that his feet finally decided to move. He still had too much to do before he could put his last plan into place. 
Nathan pulled his hood back up, then shoved his hands deep into his jean pockets as he casually strolled down the busy Austin streets. He cut through a few alleyways, and popped out a few blocks away. Though he looked like a citizen going for a casual stroll, he knew just where he was going. It had taken a while to get the cash he needed, but snatching a few purses from some old ladies, and that one grab ‘n go hold up at the gas station finally gave him what he needed. His fingers felt around in his pockets for the wad of cash that was now bundled there, giving him an odd sense of security. 
None of his plans had worked out since landing back in Jersey last winter. He had tried being friendly and getting back into Y/N’s life the right way. He gave her space and time to realize her own mistakes, as well as hopefully accept and forgive his own. Nathan thought for sure that would bring them together, but instead, she just ran back to this new guy trying to forget all they had meant to each other since they were kids. Just thinking of it caused his heart to pound, and his fists to clench around the silky bundle of bills stashed in his pocket. That money was the key; it would get him what he needed to make one final convincing argument on his own behalf. If she didn’t see how they were meant to be after that, then he would have to go with Plan B.
Hours later, after he purchased the items he needed, he began to wander the streets, trying to clear his head some. As Nathan passed by a hulking skyscraper, he caught his reflection in the mirrored panels of the structure. He saw what a dirty mess he was and decided to head back to the abandoned warehouse outside of the city where most of Austin’s homeless settled in for the night. It was a risk since the cops liked to come in randomly and bust up the encampment, but one he was willing to take. There he could clean up some, find a change of clothes and try to look the part he needed to play for the next few days in order to win back Y/N, once and for all.
Nathan successfully bartered for a clean pair of jeans, an almost new shirt and one use of the make-shift shower. Once he was clean and newly clothed, he found a quiet corner where someone abandoned a sleeping bag, pillow and even a few packets of Ramen noodles. Being an expert at living on the street, Nathan found a way to make the food, then hunkered down onto the sleeping bag. As the soup cooled, he transferred the items from his old jeans to his new ones and then tossed them aside. He wouldn’t need them anymore, because after he talked to Y/N, they would be together, and she could buy him a whole new wardrobe. After all, she was working with the bigwigs now and he was certain she could afford it. 
Picking at the hot noodles, Nathan let himself reminisce on the days when he and Y/N were happy and carefree. Days on the beach, nights on the boardwalk, him and her hand-in-hand. Countless days spent out on her dad’s boat with her and her brother Dave, and just as many nights drinking under the boards, dreaming of what life was like far away from Seaside. Y/N dreamt of being a rock star or some dumb shit, but Nathan knew she wouldn’t have the guts to really leave their hometown. She was a born and bred local, and no real locals ever got too far away. When she actually left and went on to make a new life for herself, he felt betrayed. He felt abandoned and hurt that he wasn’t enough to keep her put. Now, as he sat on the rumpled sleeping back with a cup of steaming, tasteless noodles in hand, he let his free hand slip into the pocket of his jeans again. This time it wasn’t the bulk of cash giving him comfort, but the touch of the cool metal that lived in his pocket. 
“One way or another,” he mumbled, tossing the soup aside with disgust, “I will have my girl and my life back.”
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Austin, Day Before Festival Kicks Off...
Thirty-six hours from the start of the festival, Jensen, Y/N, Briana, Robbie, Jared, Gen, Mama and about two hundred volunteers stuffed themselves into the theater where the Burlesque troop would be performing the following evening. The seven of them stood on the stage watching as swarms of people claimed a seat, all talking excitedly about the events that were to follow. Most of them were familiar faces to Jensen and Jared, having worked on the show with them for so long, but the ones they didn’t know, didn’t give them a second of pause or concern. They were all here to lend their time and services for free in an effort to do their part for the city. Every single person that walked through the doors of that theater had been background checked, and vetted through a private sponsor to ensure the safety of the festival goers, the bands, and especially those behind the scenes putting it all together. 
That was one thing Jensen had insisted on when the idea of community volunteers had first come up. It was well before he and Y/N had fallen in love and had run-ins with Nathan and Dee. He needed to be sure that everyone involved would be safe, and in turn the weekend could be a huge success. Two separate private security firms had been hired, with special attention focused on keeping Nathan out. Jensen didn’t think Dee would have the nerve to show her face, but he made sure that each member of the security team had Nathan’s photo and full description. 
Getting lost in his own thoughts as the stream of volunteers finally closed the vestibule doors, he barely noticed Robbie setting up a microphone and begin addressing the crowd. It wasn’t until Y/N casually made her way to his side and brushed against his shoulder, was he able to pull away from his own mind and come back to the present. 
“You okay there, Hollywood?” she whispered, casually glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “Big crowd here. You got stage fright all of a sudden or something?”
“Huh?” he asked, then quickly shook his head, “No, I’m fine. Just… thinking.”
“About?”
“All of this,” he said and snorted a laugh. “I mean, look at what you put together… all of these people are here because they believe in what you created--”
“What WE created. Jay,” Y/N grabbed Jensen’s hand, and despite two hundred pairs of eyes watching them, turned him towards her and kissed his lips. “I didn’t do this, you didn’t do this. Not Robbie, Bri, Mama… But ALL of us together.”
Before Jensen could respond, Robbie turned his attention towards them, holding out the microphone. When neither of them knew why, he raised his eyebrows then covered the top of the mic with his hand. 
“You wanna jump in on this pep talk, kids?”
Jensen cleared his throat and passed Robbie a sarcastic smile. “My pleasure.” He took the microphone in hand and before he could speak, the applause radiated towards him from the theater like a shock wave. He felt his heart surge at the entire crowd, much like it did every time he was on stage at a convention. The overwhelming love and gratitude was hard to miss when in this type of setting. 
“Thank you guys, really. Y’all are far too kind. It's us who should be applauding you! Because no matter how hard we have collectively worked to put this whole thing together, without you guys lending your time and efforts, it just wouldn’t be possible.”
Another surge of applause from the captivated audience caused Jensen to lower the mic and just enjoy the moment. 
“Seriously, from the bottom of all our hearts, we thank you for not only the love and support you’ve shown us from the get go, but for the love and dedication you are showing to the city of Austin. All the proceeds from ticket sales this weekend will be divided among various city organizations that work towards education enrichment programs, women’s shelters, soup kitchens, including a new music and arts program that will benefit children and teenagers from all across the city.”
Applause again, but this time even more deafening. The sea of faces before him were smiling ear to ear and cheering loudly. As Jensen moved his vision to the right in what felt like slow motion, he caught the wide grins of his closest friends who were sharing the stage with him, who were also clapping along with the crowd. 
Jensen brought the mic up to say more, but he was at a loss for word. The energy and vibe in the theater that night left him speechless, and it took all his will to not let himself shed a tear. Y/N could see his emotions building under the surface, and gently took the mic from his hand. He smiled at her thankfully for it, and took a step back as she proceeded to prepare herself to address the crowd.
“We can’t thank you all enough for the support, and love you brought with you here not only for tonight, but for this entire weekend. Now, we don’t want to take up too much of your time, so I am going to pass the mic over to Ms. Briana Buckmaster who has a few quick things to go over with you. After that, Mama June and I will be at each end of the theater exits handing out your official volunteer shirts for the weekend. One last thing before we get to the nitty gritty, while you are out there working hard to make sure our guests have fun, don’t forget to stop and enjoy the festival yourselves! We have done our best to make sure that all volunteers get plenty of breaks to go enjoy the food and music, as well as give each of you a free admission voucher to pass along to a family member, friend, or just someone you know who would enjoy the event but can’t afford to buy their own ticket. We want this to be an all-inclusive event. So have fun, work hard, and let’s make this something not only the city of Austin, but every other town and city represented here, will never forget!”
For the last time that night, the volunteers cheered and applauded the words of love and encouragement bestowed on them. Y/N passed the microphone to Bri, who’s smile lit up her dimples nearly as bright as the lights of the theater. Briana pulled Y/N into a big hug and held her tightly. Right before she let go, Bri squeezed her and whispered in her ear, “You’ve come a long way from that scared, nervous woman I met New Year’s Eve. I am so fucking proud of you!”
With that, Bri released her from the embrace, reset herself and turned to address the volunteers. Y/N took a step back to stand beside Jensen, and immediately felt his hand snake into hers. They watched on as Bri continued to captivate the audience with her distinct and charming way of explaining the processes and procedures for the weekend. Just as Bri wrapped up her part of the speech, Jensen and Y/N took a moment to meet each other’s gaze. Y/N had all but forgotten the call from the day before, and found herself feeling more confident than ever that everything they had worked so hard for would unfold without a hitch.
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prettyoddfever · 4 years ago
Text
P!ATD in summer 2007
THE MAIN POST
Some stores still had a release date of late summer 2007 for P!ATD’s second album. Even at the start of July, HMV had the 8/20 release date posted:
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Then MTV reported towards the start of July that a spokesperson for P!ATD confirmed that the second album would not be released in 2007 (this news happened before Summerfest). MuchMusic shared the same news a few days later and said that the band was still working on writing songs. The second album was expected in January or early February 2008 at this point.
SUMMERFEST
here’s a tag for the event. 
here’s a playlist
the event was on July 7th in Milwaukee and the venue seated around 23,000 people.
Eric Ronick wasn’t at shows in 2007, so Brendon did the piano parts. Bden’s solo piano cover of Round Here was still amazing.
A lot of fan commentary from Summerfest revolved around what the guys were doing offstage and on the side of the stage while other bands played. Most of it wasn’t very important: the 3 girlfriends were there, Jon apparently seemed annoyed with Brendon’s general existence, Ryan was drinking a beer while watching TAI, and Brendon mostly hung out with Zack or by himself. Brendon also came out to sing with The Hush Sound. 
Brendon & Ryan left each other alone, so there were no Ryden moments for people to share. But Jon wore flip flops onstage so that was fun too?
P!ATD played Summerfest instead of Live Earth but here’s a FOB moment there that mentions them.
Brendon’s voice was pretty rough throughout this show... it definitely wasn’t one of his best performances. 
One fan spent a LOT of time making some stuffed cats to give each guy at the meet & greet. Ryan thanked her and said he’d give it to his dog lol. The poor girl. That still makes me laugh though.
Brendon was still wearing his white shirt and black tie. One review of Summerfest said: “Frontman Brendon Urie's New Wave skinny tie and white dress shirt were sartorial emblems of Panic's tendency to smash together old stuff in a frenzy that makes it seem new to those who haven't heard any of it before.” Because Brendon was clearly trying to make a statement when he grew up dressing like that in the Mormon church too.
The most notable part of the show was obviously when the band decided to play a completely new song from the material they’d been working on at the cabin that spring. Ryan had mentioned in recent interviews that they would probably play new material, but that they still had to figure it out because “there are a lot of things that we've demo-ed but there's stuff that's missing from the songs that we wouldn't be able to play live right now.”
The band played a song that fans ended up calling “True Love” or “It’s True Love” (here are some videos). A fan who saw the setlist said that it had been listed as “NYC,” but I think the general consensus was that this wasn’t particularly exciting because it could easily just stand for “not yet confirmed.” Anyways, I thought Brendon’s voice wasn’t having a good day at Summerfest in general... I wish we could hear a recording of It’s True Love from another day too. I genuinely loved the song, so its reception still makes me a little sad. It felt like the majority of fans completely hated it and were absolutely brutal. There were seriously thousands of comments online tearing the band apart. Even fans who were at Summerfest said the crowd didn’t seem too impressed with the new song. 
Yes, the song was a repetitive fairy tale cliche... but who knows where it fit into the album’s storyline or what the tone actually was! Brendon said that a lot of the cabin album was satirical. This song was being judged like it was a serious single that was meant to stand on its own, though. A decent amount of fans got really upset that Keltie had ruined Ryan and made him want to write stupid love songs that sounded like a middle schooler (even though Keltie confirmed to fans that the song was not about her). A few other people were saying that this garbage was proof that Brent was clearly the mastermind behind AFYCSO lol. Basically, a huge amount of people were hating on the lyrics (but some people still seemed to love the melody, Brendon’s vocals, or other small parts). 
The band absolutely saw what so many people were saying online. There’s no way they could’ve missed that even if they didn’t lurk (which Jon did). Right after Summerfest they decided to scrap the cabin album and completely start over. The album’s release date had been pushed back before Summerfest, though, so it sounded like the band was maybe already uncertain about their new material before the overly negative response.
THE CABIN ALBUM GETS SCRAPPED
In a nutshell: the cabin album had become too complex and the band wasn’t really having fun with it, so they scrapped the songs after Summerfest and started over. They later talked about how they’d decided to stop overthinking the songwriting process, go on inspiration, and keep it simple.
Jon said the process of starting over was “actually quite liberating.” Ryan said it became easier to move forward after the band decided to abandon the cabin album. He also seemed relieved about the change in direction. He talked about how he’d been writing the lyrics alone that spring, but now the whole band was contributing to the process.
The main thing that matters here in terms of events is that they had left LA, moved back to Vegas, and were now in a practice space in the same building where they wrote AFYCSO. (I’m not entirely certain when the band left LA, but Ryan said around the start of August that they’d left LA & returned to Vegas “a month ago.”)
Some fans had fun suggesting titles for the scrapped album later that fall... here are some favorites I saved:
I Write Songs Not Albums
There’s A Good Reason The Release Date Got Moved Honey
Whoops We Didn’t Do It Again
Better Than Brent
Lying Is The Best We Can Do Because We're Afraid To Come Out
But It’s Better If You Do Release an Album
The Only Difference Between Starting Over and A Sophomore Slump Is Press Coverage
We heard some basic news about the scrapped album by early August, but it became bigger news that fall.
A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE REPORTING
The fact that there was so little to report about the band in 2007 really showed which news sources were more reliable… and where most writers got their info from haha. There were a lot of variations on the story about how P!ATD was writing in a cabin and then scrapped that album.
Basically, MTV wrote a few articles after actually talking to the band and then Kerrang, NME, Rolling Stone, and a bunch of other sources all paraphrased those articles and recycled the quotes for several months. Here’s MTV’s article from early August. (I’m not saying MTV was always accurate btw... but that specific article had good info because it was mostly direct quotes from the band instead of James Montgomery’s explanations). Then this clipping below was from Kerrang in late August... notice how the quote that MTV had attributed to Jon accidentally got switched to Ryan:
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And this article from NME was a total fail on every level lol. They copied the info from the MTV article, but somehow managed to mess up almost everything… they said that the band had debuted It’s True Love at Virgin Fest (it was Summerfest a month earlier). Then they attributed Jon’s quote to Ryan, missed the part where Ryan said they wouldn’t be using It’s True Love on the next album, and skipped the news that the band was starting over... so that meant some other writers assumed that all of the newer info in August should be lumped onto whatever they already knew about the cabin album. That’s why you’d see some confused journalists in October/November who suddenly thought the new album was getting scrapped.
Other sites like Buzznet just cited whatever NME had written and this turned into a bad game of telephone where all of the info sounded relatively similar, but still had big errors that could be confusing if someone only read a couple articles without following the evolution of how the news had spread. Other mistakes weren’t too important, but they were still entertaining… like NME said in a different article that the band “wrote their first batch of songs in an isolated cabin deep in the Nevada desert.” Another story made it sound like the guys needed to hike a snowy mountain to reach their remote hut lol.
Oh, and NME waited until October to post an article that the band had scrapped their album, so at that point some fans panicked that it had happened all over again. I think NME might have only said that because Rolling Stone got really confused that month.
At the end of the year MTV said that the failed second album "has been about as well-documented as it has been confusing.” And we were like no –– none of this was confusing unless you’re a reporter who’s trying to write a quick article without paying attention… y’all just confused yourselves.
OTHER STUFF FROM THIS SUMMER
here’s a picture tag (that category is mostly stuff from June – August outside of the shows, but I put August in Europe in this tag).
It sounded like Jon was living with Ryan, so the band would often get together at Ryan’s place to work on songs.
there’s more in this post about the “Ryho” stuff and how part of the fandom was treating Ryan
A group of fans started this rumor and it was actually picked up by legit news sites haha.
Some pockets of the internet sounded like they were anticipating a sophomore slump since most fans hated It’s True Love and the band was changing their direction this far into the writing process. MTV put the band on their “anti-buzz” list and said “why will [the next album] suck? Jeez, why won’t it?” with nothing substantial to back up that claim. MTV seemed like they wrote whatever they thought people wanted to read... if they sensed that the public opinion might be going downhill, they’d distance themselves from any former enthusiasm and hedge their bets (which is what they started doing to Ryan in summer 2009). 
2+ years between albums is a big chunk of time when you’re in middle school, so a lot of the previously intense fans found new interests and drifted away from the fandom this year.
P!ATD’s German site was updated with the news about the postponed album. It said “Neues Album in Sicht Ja, Sommer ist nichts geworden - Aber macht nix. Das neue Panic! At the Disco Album ist für Frühjahr 2008 geplant.” The part that made me laugh roughly translates to “Yes, summer didn't happen - but it does not matter.” 
I think my 18-year-old self would be very disappointed if I didn’t include a note here about how Ryan & Spencer were really really ridiculously good-looking in August 2007. In hindsight, I also think Ryan’s style peaked that month. I mean, his style was obvs great other times too... but August 2007 was like perfect. I did not understand why so many fans were hating on that look at the time.
FOB was still working IWSNT into some of their shows. Pete also used lyrics from Nine in the Afternoon in August… “eyes the size of the moon” was a blog post title and something about nine in the afternoon was a buzznet picture caption. (update: this does not mean that P!ATD copied the lyrics from Pete lol. it means that Pete would subtly hype new material his bands were working on). We heard that song for the first time on August 5th... I moved everything about the August shows into this post.
there were fan rumors that Keltie & Ryan broke up and that they were getting married soon. some fans were reallllly invested in their relationship.
Zack put some videos on his youtube channel this summer. Those ended up getting deleted, but luckily other fans uploaded them. Here’s the one with Spencer + the tray (which was filmed in late 2006) and then Spencer + ice (from March 2007 in Atlanta).
there were SO many fan projects for the guys omg. I know I mentioned this in the spring post, but I just really need to emphasize how ridiculous it got (especially once Projects! at the Disco got rolling). There was even a project where fans would mail a lot of flip flops to Jon... idk what he was supposed to do with all of those. There was also a project to submit pictures of your feet in flip flops for Jon’s birthday. Ryan got things like a mix cd, a montage of video greetings, a collection of pictures of fans wearing Ryan-style makeup, yet another scrapbook, a list of fan messages, etc. Spencer got the sneakers, fan-decorated drumsticks, a binder of letters, and some other stuff. People were still fighting to be in control over the various projects lol. Here’s one account who did birthday videos that are still up.
Wikipedia was being edited by people who definitely hadn’t been around during the Fever era, and who didn’t really have a good grasp on basic info about the band. Wikipedia even said that Jon had replaced Brent before the European tour in spring 2006 ha.
The flood of silly fan edits on Wikipedia that had been going on in early spring 2007 had decreased by this point, but this description was on P!ATD’s Wikipedia page for a decent stretch of time this season: “It is rumored that their sophmoric concept album is a semi-autobigraphical tale about a group of young kids training to join the circus (ala Disney's Totally Circus) and their journey from their small town Neveada homes into drugs, homosexuality, and eventual superstardom. The concluding track "The ringmaster becomes the student as they make him deserve " ends the album in an epic manner as the final practice before their concluding show turns into a drug induced all male orgy. The line "I pulled out and blew on the God damn floor" is repeated as a thunderous collection of drums and piano bring the track and story to its climactic conclusion.”
this was the best thing to come out of July (skip to 5:09):
youtube
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cycat4077 · 5 years ago
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Three Weeks In
So, I’m writing a series. Cute, fluffy ideas kept popping into my head and rather than making a new character/backstory for each one-shot, I decided to keep the universe I set up in Changes which is basically all the canon-SVU events but Sonny has a loving relationship behind the scenes. Let’s face it, the boy deserves happiness. It’s not necessary to read my other story first unless you want the backstory of the reader character and how they got together with Sonny. I’ll try to keep things chronological and weave in SVU events if I can. My OCD is forcing me to make sure the dates are all correct (ex: Sonny can’t be with the reader if he’s supposed to be upstate investigating a lead.) So tah-dah! I present thee with the second installment of the “Changes” series which is set immediately after 17x09, Depravity Standard, and begins on Nov 23rd 2015 (the day before Thanksgiving). It may be crap, but I hope you enjoy anyway!
Words: 2296 Warnings: none Pairing: Sonny x Reader Summary: Three weeks into dating Sonny and he already wants you to meet his family… AO3 here
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Some days you actually have to pinch yourself as a reminder that your life is real. It’s been three weeks since Sonny showed up to your class. Three weeks since the two of you confessed your feelings. And three weeks of dating Sonny. While your schedules didn’t allow for a lot of one-on-one time, the two of you keep in touch and steal away for dinner whenever you can.
A steady beeping sound rouses you from your sleep and you roll over to shut off your alarm. The sun is starting to peek through the curtains, signalling a new day. Glancing at your phone screen, you smile.
Mornin’, doll. Have a great day! Talk to you later xoxo
Everyday you wake up to a text from Sonny and, though a seemingly small gesture, your heart aches in the best possible way from knowing he cares. You unplug the device and lay back in bed, phone perched on your chest.
Morning, Sonny. Hope you have a great day too and stay safe! xoxo
As you hit send, you imagine him smiling at his desk when the message comes in. You get ready for class and head out, a spring in your step while you journey to campus. Sonny texts you back around lunchtime with a message saying that he should be free tonight. He asks if you’d be up for having dinner and you eagerly accept. That evening you put on a nice outfit, fix your hair and set out to meet your date at a nearby restaurant. But SVU work can be unpredictable. You were made very aware of that during your summer there. One day could be quiet while the next could be so busy that you didn’t know whether the detectives were coming or going. So understandably, this line of work would sometimes force Sonny to be late. Nevertheless, if he was, he would apologize profusely and you would always reassure him that you understood. Tonight however, as you wait alone inside the restaurant lobby, Sonny is later than he’s ever been before. Not only that, but he hasn’t even sent you a message to confirm that he was caught up. His silence has you worried. You crane your neck towards the door once more before sending him a quick text:
Hey. Hope everything is okay.
Not a moment later your phone vibrates.
Shit. Sorry, doll. I’ll be there in 15.
You breathe a sigh of relief knowing he’s safe but then your gut knots when the alternative creeps into your mind. Restaurant patrons pass you by and the hostess keeps glaring while you’re standing there. They’ve seen it all before: a girl left waiting for a date who doesn’t show. You look up and let out a shaky sigh, hoping that Sonny hadn’t simply forgotten you. Practically 15 minutes on the nose from his text, a rather frantic looking Sonny comes barreling through the restaurant door. His winter jacket is unbuttoned and you can see his badge still clipped to his suit underneath. He hasn’t had time to change. “Hey,” he breathes out with apologetic eyes. “I’m so sorry. I shoulda texted you. It’s just Rollins -” Sonny takes a breath, chest heaving. He must have ran here. “She had a scare today. There were complications with her labor. Luckily, she made it though n’ delivered a healthy baby girl, but Lieu and I stayed there with her for a while. She’s gettin’ some rest now and Fin is gonna check up on her later.” Immediately you flood with relief. “I’m glad she and the baby are alright,” you say, “and I’m glad nothing had happened to you either.” “You dunno know how sorry I am for not lettin’ you know what was goin’ on. I shoulda texted. But things got hectic and we were all pretty worried about her…” “Sonny,” you cut off his rambling and force him to meet your eyes. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. Like I said, I’m glad Rollins is fine and I’m also glad she wasn’t alone through all this.” Sonny looks back at you and takes a breath. Your words seem to calm him right down. He smiles. “You’re amazin’.” You blush. “Back at you, but I’m starved.” He chuckles and the two of you approach the hostess. She grabs your menus but rolls her eyes as she turns to lead you to your table. She seats you at a little booth in the corner, Sonny taking your coat before you sit down. You braved wearing a knee-length dress despite the November weather and are rewarded by an expression of awe from Sonny when he sees it. “You look beautiful, doll,” he compliments, drinking you in. “And here I am, lookin’ shabby in comparison.” A little tired, yes. But shabby? Never. Sonny’s dark hair is still combed back and he’s wearing a tasteful burgundy tie over a white pinstripe shirt. You lean in and peck him on the cheek. “You always look handsome to me.” The two of you order and share a drink, happy to finally be catching up. “Shadowin’ Barba was fantastic!” exclaims Sonny through a mouthful of bread. “He’s so polished in his delivery n’ so sharp at findin’ the littlest things to drive it all home to the jury!” “Fanboy alert!” you joke. “Guilty!” he grins, raising his fork in surrender. “But I learn so much from him and it gives me new ideas for doin’ my written assignments.” “I’m happy for you, Sonny. You work so hard and you deserve every ounce of success you earn.” You truly can’t help the pride you feel for him. “Aww, thanks, doll. That means a lot.” Sonny gazes at you with the utmost affection and you nearly melt in your seat. “Say, what’s new with you? Anythin’ excitin’ in the ol’ biology class?” “Same old, same old,” you shrug. “Just gave the second midterm back to the students, so I expect a lot of office visits from them on Monday.” “You don’t have ta work or take emails over the holiday, do ya?” asks Sonny, pushing food around his plate absentmindedly. “Nope. Why?” You sense there’s something more to his inquiry. “Well, I was wonderin’…now, I know it’s short notice ‘cause I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to get off myself, but I was wonderin’ if…if you’d like to spend Thanksgiving with me at my parents’ place?” Sonny looks up. It’s the most hopeful expression you’ve ever seen on him. “I..uh…” you’re lost for words. You want to scream out ’YES!’ at the top of your lungs but at the same time it’s not that easy. “Sonny, that’s t-tomorrow. And it’s also your family time. I wouldn’t want to intrude on them.” “You wouldn’t be intrudin’! My ma’s been askin’ to meet my girlfriend n’ even said to ’make sure you bring her over for Thanksgiving’.” Your voice goes quiet. “I’m your…g-girlfriend?” The word floors you. Most guys don’t want to dive head first into labeling relationships, especially not after only three weeks. But here is Sonny Carisi, happily calling you his girlfriend and wanting you to meet his family. “Yeah, of course doll,” he answers a little perplexed. “We’re datin’ aren’t we?” Sonny fixes his gaze on you, trying to read what you’re feeling. You shake your head to snap yourself out of it. “Yes, y-yes. It’s just that…Never mind. I’d love to spend Thanksgiving with your family!” An uncontrolled smile spreads across your face and you’re pretty sure it makes you look like a complete dork. If it does, Sonny doesn’t point it out, but instead reaches across the table to hold your hand. He too is smiling from ear to ear like you’ve made him the happiest man alive. Suddenly your smile drops. “What?” questions Sonny. “What time will you be heading out tomorrow?” “Uh, well, I was thinkin’ we could get there for ‘round four o'clock. Time enough to introduce ya to everyone before we eat?” “Four?! That doesn’t give me much time to make anything!” you gulp. “Make somethin’? Doll, my mother wouldn’t want you to bring anythin’. Believe me, she cooks for a small army.” “Sonny. You can’t show up to someone’s house for dinner empty handed.” Sonny opens his mouth to argue, but you shush him instead. “How many people are gonna be there?” Conceding, he sets down his utensils, freeing his hands to count. “Well, there’s gonna be mom, dad, me, you, Bella n’ Tommy. Their little one doesn’t eat the good stuff yet, so I won’t count her.” Sonny unfolds that finger. “Then there’s Resa and Mia and Gina. Maybe a plus one for Gina, but who the hell knows with her.” Looking down at his two hands, he raises them to show you. “Should be nine altogether.” Good to know because you were going to be up early the next morning baking. -x- You don’t realize your knee is bouncing until Sonny reaches over and places a warm hand on it. “Don’t be nervous, doll. My family is gonna love you.” You turn your head towards him, flashing a weak smile. Sitting in idle traffic is only making your nerves worse. “Trust me. Besides, ya even baked fresh bread rolls on short notice. They’re gonna disown me and keep you instead.” Sonny taps your knee reassuringly before returning his hand to the steering wheel. The Carisis live in a quaint little suburban house complete with a petite yard and front porch stoop. It seems small for a family of six, yet still cozy and welcoming. You can’t imagine Sonny growing up anywhere else. Sonny leads you up the steps and knocks on the door. It instantly flies open and a short woman with grey hair greets the two of you with open arms. “Sonny!” she coos, scooping her boy in for a hug. Sonny plants his mother a kiss before introducing you. “Hellooo! Welcome, hon,” exclaims Mrs. Carisi as she ushers you into her home. The place smells delectable. If someone asked you describe the scent of Thanksgiving, you would say ‘the Carisi household’. “I’m so happy you could make it! Y'know, Sonny has told me so much about ya and I’m glad that boy finally got the nerve to - ” “Ma!” blurts Sonny, flashing his mother a warning look. Sonny must have spent those months apart dwelling over you, just as you had done over him. “What?! It’s true, honey,” defends the Carisi matriarch before turning back to you. “Whateva. You just make yourself at home dear. We’re all family here.” “Thank you, Mrs. Carisi,” you say sincerely. You’d never been so instantly accepted by another family. After sharing a hug with Sonny’s mother, you are swarmed by the rest of the Carisis. Sonny introduces you to his father first, who gives you a solid nod. Next is Bella, bouncing a tiny infant with Tommy by her side. Theresa and a shy Mia chime in a ‘hello’ before a solo Gina caps off the meet-and-greet. Mrs. Carisi is over the moon when you hand over your baking and the bread rolls end up being a major success. In true Italian fashion, the Thanksgiving spread is full of flavor with Sonny’s mother sparing no expense in variety or quantity. Everyone joins in saying grace before dinner and, though not a common practice in your house growing up, you don’t mind linking hands with Sonny and Gina while Mr. Carisi leads the family in giving thanks. Because you do have a lot to be thankful for: a great job, an incredible boyfriend and now a whole new family to spend time with. The rest of the meal is occupied by sharing in conversation, fond memories and laughter. You find it all sort of surreal. During the summer Sonny had entertained you with tales of this very family: How they could get on one another’s nerves but that at the end of the day still loved each other. And this is exactly what you see before you. Maybe it’s a light buzz from the wine, but you feel all warm and fuzzy as the chatter of the Carisis surround you. Eventually the evening winds down and everyone seems to be groaning over how full their tummies are. You know you’ve eaten too much but wouldn’t have it any other way. “The food was absolutely delicious, Mrs. Carisi. Thank you all for having me,” you say appreciatively, looking at everyone in turn. “Our pleasure, hon,” smiles Sonny’s mother sweetly. “Know that you’re welcome here anytime.” She clasps your hands in hers and gives them a few quick pats. You say your reluctant goodbyes before you and Sonny head to his car. Once inside, he looks at you. “So?” “Your family is wonderful, Sonny and I had a great time.” This makes him flush with pride. “Glad to hear it, doll. Sometimes they can be a bit much, but they mean well.” He turns the key in the ignition and his car grumbles to life. The two of you wave as he backs out of the driveway. Once you’re cruising down Arden avenue, Sonny pipes up again. “Y'don’t have any more of them rolls, do ya? I didn’t know you were such a good cook.” You let out a laugh. “I’m not that good. For every two-dozen there’s about a dozen that come out flat and ugly. But if you’re indifferent to what they look like, then I can hook you up with the rejects.” You wink just as the car passes beneath the glow of a streetlamp in hopes Sonny will catch it. He grins. “I don’t mind. Besides, it gives me a good excuse to walk ya to your door 'n steal a kiss goodnight.”
-x-
I have a bunch of ideas planned, the next being x-mas (wrong time of year, I know) but I just have to check dates from the episodes. Let me know if you’d be interested in more of these stories and any feedback would be loved!
Next part here!
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honey-girlie · 5 years ago
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every kind of way ch. 2
chapter: 2/3
word count: ~3k
a/n: i actually don’t like this chapter all that much lol, but here is. i’m still finishing up the last chapter, so i’ll be posting it in a few days. thank you again to anyone who’s reading!!
[link to chapter 1]
[link to ao3]
x x x
Predictably, Levi was upset with the news. 
He fought her at every turn and glowered when he heard Jake’s name, muttering something about how he could never trust a guy that quiet. And even if Eris had explicitly told him — multiple times, no less — that they were broken up, Levi had also made a Hail Mary attempt at turning her head. It was a miracle she hadn’t smacked him for that one. Instead, she very coolly asserted her feelings for Jake. There was no head-turning for her, especially not for Levi.
He had stormed off shortly after that, but not before he made sure to mention that she and Jake would never work as a couple outside the villa. As Eris prepared to head for the firepit, Cherry also had come up to her and said the exact same thing.
Eris rolled her eyes hard enough to dizzy herself. Levi’s and Cherry’s opinions didn’t matter. No one’s did.
She repeated the mantra to herself during the recoupling and ignored everyone’s incredulous expressions when Jake happily called her name. He did the same, spending most of the recoupling offering her giddy smiles and comforting touches. Though he tensed up during Levi’s turn, Jake kept calm and accepted Levi’s sneers with a defiant stare. 
They were finally together, and after all the drama they’ve been through on the island, there was little anyone could do or say to stop them. 
Eris couldn’t have been more relieved by the end of the recoupling. She and Jake wandered to the daybeds while the others scattered elsewhere, their hands entwined. He shot her a look of concern and asked how she was holding up, and she answered honestly. 
Perfect, she said, beaming at him. 
He grinned right back and picked her up in a crushing embrace, lifting her a few inches. Eris wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, but their moment was cut short at the sound of footsteps nearing them. Jake lowered her to the ground as Tim and Jen walked over, smiling knowingly at them. 
“You two look well cozy,” Tim teased. “Did the recoupling go the way you wanted, then?”
Eris and Jake glanced at each other. The second their eyes met, they grinned again. Jen squealed in delight. 
“You guys are so adorable!” she exclaimed. “I knew without a doubt Jake would pick you.”
Eris’ heart clenched. “Our relationship is still new, but we’re solid. I didn’t doubt him either.”
Jake reached for her hand and planted a kiss on her knuckles, his eyes bright and happy. “I love that you trusted me,” he murmured. “I’d have picked you every single time, even if it cost me a friendship.”
She tucked her lips in to keep from smiling so wide. 
Tim snorted. “Mate, you are such a melt!”
Jake merely shrugged. His gaze remained locked Eris. “I’m more romantic than people think.”
Whatever Jen was about to say was interrupted at the sound of her phone beeping. The four of them stared at it for a moment before Jen picked it up, her face wary. She called the Islanders to gather around, and they all scurried over to the daybeds. Levi scowled at her when she caught his gaze, but she gave him no reaction.
Once everyone was gathered, Jen cleared her throat and read the text. 
Islanders, you are now in your final days on Love Island. Tonight, the public will vote for their favorite couple. The couples with the fewest votes risk being dumped from the Island tomorrow night. The couples that remain will enter the final, and have a chance to win the £50,00 prize.
With raised eyebrows, Eris glanced up to see several shocked faces. Four people would be dumped tomorrow, and with her and Jake being in such a late couple, she wouldn’t be surprised if they received less votes. 
After a moment’s thought, she found that she wasn’t too troubled. She came to the show to find a partner she could have a future with, regardless of whether or not she won. After today’s events, she could safely say that Jake was that person for her, and she for him. Money was always nice, but if she and Jake were to leave the Island early, she wouldn’t shed any tears over it. Part of her was excited to be back home anyway. 
Beside Eris, Jake squeezed her hand. She turned to him and saw a relaxed smile on his face, and she knew he shared her thoughts. Eris smiled back. 
A few of the Islanders made small comments about tomorrow’s dumping, but other than that, everyone was quiet, the reminder of the competition looming over their heads. They all went their separate ways to wind down for the night and prepare for bed. 
Jake went off to chat with the boys while Eris joined the other girls in the dressing room to remove their makeup. Cherry continued throwing sour looks her way, but Eris refused to spare her single glance. She’d had too long of a day to have the energy to rehash the same argument with the younger girl, and besides, Eris was still over the moon about her and Jake being an official couple. Like Levi, Cherry’s anger didn’t warrant any real reaction from her. 
Bless Jen for easing the tension by starting up a quiet conversation with Eris. 
“I can’t believe our summer’s nearly over,” Jen murmured. 
Eris smiled gratefully and responded, “I think it’s the right time.”
“You think so?”
Eris shrugged. “We all tried our best, and some of us have really found the right person.”
Cherry scoffed and rolled her eyes before shooting up from her seat. Jen and Eris watched warily as Cherry stalked out of the room without a single word, her hands clenched into fists. 
Jen pursed her lips. “Don’t worry about her, babes. Give her time. She’ll come around.”
“Can’t say I particularly care,” Eris murmured. “It wasn’t like we were ever on friendly terms, and I doubt we ever will be.” She lifted her chin. “But I don’t regret what I did.”
Jen patted her hand. “And you shouldn’t. We all need to put ourselves first.” She paused for a moment, contemplating. “I don’t think I was doing that when I first came into the villa. I tried too hard to keep Levi coupled up with me. I just think I had to find myself first.” A smile spread across her face. “And then I found Tim. I think I achieved everything I wanted. I’m really proud of my journey in the villa. I think I’m living my best life.”
Eris scooted over to squeeze Jen on the shoulder. She had come a long way from the girl Eris had originally met the first day in the villa. Jen and Tim had since become some of her closest confidants, especially in the last several days. As ecstatic as Eris was about the way things turned out for herself, she was just as pleased for her friends. 
“I’m happy for you, Jen. Really.”
“Babes, thank you!” Jen grinned and lightly elbowed Eris. “I know you must be feeling good about your experience too. In fact...” She leaned in as she glanced around, whispered conspiratorially. “I kinda know something I’m not supposed to tell you.”
Intrigued, Eris quirked a brow. “What? What do you know?”
The glint in Jen’s eyes was unmistakable. “Where do you think Jake is right now?”
As if on cue, Jake peeked his head in the dressing room, scanning around for Eris. When he spotted her, he grinned. “Hey, you. Can I borrow you for a chat? Once you’re finished, of course.”
Eris smiled back. She hoped the butterflies in her stomach just from seeing him would never go away. “Of course.”
“Great. Give me a couple of minutes, then come meet me on the roof terrace,” he said before ducking back out. 
She stared after him for a second, even after the door had closed, then she turned back to Jen. Jen’s expression was full of barely contained excitement. 
Eris playfully narrowed her eyes. “Should I be expecting something big?”
With an innocent shrug, Jen replied, “I really don’t know, hun, but I think Jake has something he wanted to tell you. Maybe you should find out!”
Eris bit her lip. She wished she hadn’t taken off all her makeup. Clearly, whatever Jake wanted to say to her was important. 
She forced herself not to run straight to the terrace and instead idly cleaned up her little station. It couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds before she gave up, growing restless. Jen offered a gleeful smile as Eris left the dressing room and hurried to the roof terrace. 
With an eager spring in her step, she threw open the door. Eris gasped and froze at the sight that greeted her. 
The terrace glowed with soft lights from several small candles and the string lights hanging on the walls. There were so many candles that it diffused the normally chilly rooftop with enough warmth to tingle her skin. And petals, rose petals littered around the place, scattered all over from the floor to the benches. A bottle of wine and two glasses were propped up on the table, and standing right in the middle of everything was Jake. He had spun around at her abrupt entrance, but when he spotted her, he beamed. 
It was the most romantic gesture anyone’s ever done for her. 
Eris stood at the doorway, mouth agape. 
“Are you kidding?” she exhaled. 
Jake looked around at his work. “Well, it wasn’t all me. I got Jen and Tim to help. But... yeah.” A flash of uncertainty crossed his face. “Is it... okay? Do you like it?”
She barked out a laugh and hurried over to him, throwing her arms around his neck. Relaxing, Jake sighed and engulfed her in his embrace. 
“It’s beautiful,” Eris whispered. “Thank you. I don’t even know what this is for.”
He pulled back and met her eyes. “This has all happened pretty fast for us. I just wanted to show you that this, that you really mean something to me.” Jake cupped her face in his big, warm hands, and she melted into him. “We’ve only officially been together since this afternoon, but this is something I’ve wanted for a long time,” he murmured. “It’s not a spur-of-the-moment thing.”
“It’s not for me either,” Eris returned. “It’s always been you, remember?”
Jake released a contented sigh and rubbed his thumbs over her cheekbones, then he let go to pull her towards the bench. “Sit with me.”
He took her hand as they sat side by side, their thighs flush with one another, and once they were settled, he turned to her. Eris had no idea what else he had planned for them tonight, but she couldn’t contain the grin spreading across her face. His own lips curled into a smile. 
“I love that you’re so chill,” he chuckled. “It makes me feel calmer.” He nodded his chin to the wine on the table. She noticed that one of the glasses was nearly empty. “I would’ve waited to open it with you, but I needed it to calm my nerves.”
Nerves? Jen did mention that Jake had something he wanted to tell her. At the reminder, Eris straightened and twisted her torso to face him directly. 
“What do you mean?” she asked. 
Jake took a deep breath before speaking. “I’m a real romantic at heart. I’m sure you know that by now.”
She cast a wry glance around the decorated terrace. “I think I’m starting to get an idea, yeah.”
His lips quirked. “I wrote you something to let you know how serious I am about us as a couple.”
Eris’ breath hitched, but when she remembered the poem he’d written for Talia, she held back a laugh. Something told her he hasn’t improved much as a poet since then. 
Her theory was proven right when Jake recited, “Roses are red, violets are blue, you took a chance on me, and I’m committed to you.”
She broke out in a wide grin, the same kind a proud mother would give a child for some macaroni art. For someone so good with words, he wasn’t the most eloquent poet. Still, Jake and his elementary rhymes were so adorable, it hurt. 
Eris leaned in to press a kiss on his cheek, and with bright eyes, he shot her a cheerful look, evidently pleased with himself. The man was actually a puppy dog. 
“That was well corny,” she uttered, “and I absolutely loved every bit of it.”
Jake’s laugh was full-on, loud and free, and she couldn’t get enough of it. She wanted to hear it every chance she got, every day they had together. 
“Always the honest one,” he said through his laughter. “Either way, I’m glad you liked it. But maybe I should stick to cooking, yeah?”
Eris adamantly shook her head. “Corny or not, no one’s ever written me poetry before. You’re just... you’re the sweetest man, Jake. We’ve been together less than a day, and you put in the effort to write me things and set up this roof terrace for me. I don’t —” She let out a helpless laugh and took one of his hands in her lap. “I don’t know what to say. You make me really happy.”
She avoided his gaze as her cheeks burned at her rambling, but she refused to take back her words. Things between her and Jake had moved fast, but it felt right, more right than it had been with anyone else both in and out of the villa. 
Jake was silent for a drawn-out moment, and her cheeks grew redder. When he sucked in a breath, Eris finally glanced up. She was taken aback at the intensity that had formed in his gaze. 
His next words came out in a rushed exhale. “Will you be my girlfriend?”
Eris’ eyes bulged as she gaped. Girlfriend? She had no idea the depth of his feelings — let alone the existence of them — until a few hours ago, and now he was asking her to take another big step in their very new relationship. She at least understood why he had been so nervous earlier. 
At her reaction, Jake pushed on. “I know it’s a bit soon, but you make me happy too. Like, stupid happy. I’ve never felt the way I do about you with anyone else.” He paused, his intense stare growing so tender, her breath caught in her throat. “I’m falling for you, Eris,” he whispered. “I don’t even care about winning or being in the final. I just want to be with you —”
“Yes,” she blurted.
As if she even needed convincing in the first place. Eris was ready to commit to him the same way he admitted he was to her. She’s been ready for some time now. 
He paused, blinking, and then his face split into an enormous, radiant smile that wrinkled his eyes. Her heart burst at the sight as she beamed back. Taking her face in his hands, Jake brought their lips together in a passionate kiss. Despite its fervency, there was a gentleness to it too, and Eris knew they’d have hundreds, thousands of kisses just like it. 
Her boyfriend. She rather liked the sound of that. 
When they pulled apart, he pressed a final kiss to her forehead. Her skin tingled where his lips lay as he spoke. 
“I can’t believe you said yes,” he exhaled. 
Eris snickered. “Did you really think I’d say no?”
“Maybe. Yes. I don’t know.” Jake reared back to look at her with a relieved smile. “I wasn’t sure what would happen. Besides, I’ve told you how overconfidence is a killer. I couldn’t be too certain.”
“Well, you’re officially stuck with me now. No takebacks.”
Jake smoothed his thumbs over her cheekbones. “Good,” he murmured.
They stayed on the terrace for a little while longer, talking idly and drinking a bit more. Eris would have loved to spend the rest of the night there with him, but exhaustion started creeping on her. Once they finished off their glasses of wine, they decided to call it a night, leaving the terrace hand-in-hand. 
Despite how tired she was, she was brimming with elation. For the past few days, Eris was sure she had screwed over her chance on the show to find a partner. Now, she was leaving the island with the sweetest, most adoring and thoughtful man, a man who also happened to be her boyfriend. Funny how different her day turned out when it started on such an awful note, but maybe she should’ve expected it, being on Love Island and all. 
By the time Eris and Jake returned to the darkened bedroom, the rest of the Islanders were tucked into bed, all apart from Jen. She was hanging around by the entrance, seemingly waiting for them, and when they finally showed up, Jen squealed. She quietly cheered and congratulated them with a hug. Jake whispered an additional thanks for helping him set up the terrace, and Jen winked before whisking away. 
Eris and Jake changed and got ready for bed, then they climbed under the duvet together, cuddling close. His arms tightened around her, and in seconds, they both began to drift off. Before succumbing to a peaceful sleep, Eris let one last smile grace her lips as she remembered how unspeakably good it felt to be his again.
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