#but i doubt we'll get that :pensive:

[chiliontherocks]

i went to see the hq movie last night! when i yelled out another guy responded 'time to wait ten more years for the next one'

[pixeldolly]

The Sacrifice - Part 3

"Evelyn? What's up?"

"It's Roman. He hasn't come home last night, or this morning for that matter. Do you know where he is?"

To Jacob's surprise, Evelyn sounded worried.

"No, I don't know where he is. I haven't spoken to him since yesterday evening after he dropped off Olivia."

"Oh...right."

Jacob almost rolled his eyes.

"Are you sure he's not just staying over at someone's place and doesn't want to be disturbed?"

"I thought about that, but he's not answering his phone either. And get this: I get a call from some guy who claims to be a director, says Roman missed the morning shoot for the commercial he's supposed to star in. Weird, right? He was quite excited when he first got the gig."

There was a pause while Jacob considered this. It did seem rather odd that Roman would simply drop off the map like that. Odd and, if he was being completely honest, a little concerning.

"I really don't know what to tell you, Ev...I have no idea where he might've gone."

"Okay. Thanks anyway, Jake."

The call ended, leaving Jacob to stare pensively at Olivia's face beaming at him from the lock screen wallpaper. Suddenly, the silence blanketing the apartment felt subtly oppressive, as if it concealed a terrible secret.

Jacob frowned, and shook his head to dispel such fancies. Roman was most likely fine - it had just been a few hours, after all. He probably had one too many drinks and was nursing a hangover or something.

He made a move to pocket the phone - then pulled up his convo with Evelyn instead and began typing.

The hours passed with no news. Jacob even tried calling Roman himself, only for his calls to go to voicemail. Curiouser and curiouser; Roman was usually quick in answering his calls, in case they concerned their daughter.

Little by little, genuine concern began worming its way into his heart and nestled there, gnawing at his peace of mind.

Not long after 6 PM, he got a message from Evelyn saying she and Ulf were on their way, and he spent an anxious hour and a half until they arrived.

"Hey, guys. Are....you okay...?"

"Grr - Yes...Just raw from the change. Had no time to eat."

"We'll be fine. There's half a deer in the icebox when we get back. Now, let's talk about what we came here to do..."

"Ahh yes..." *sniff* "A strong scent trail, we should be able to follow it without too much trouble."

Jacob was having second thoughts about the whole thing.

"Maybe...maybe we should go to the police? If we think something happened to him..."

"And say what? He's an adult, it hasn't been that long, and we have no proof anything's wrong aside from our gut feelings. Even if they do take us seriously, it'll be hours before they do anything. We could find him right now - hey there, sweetie! Whoa, you've gotten so big!"

"Okay, fine. But I'm going with you."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea..."

"Why? Are you saying you think there could be danger involved?"

"I don't know, Jake. That's the problem."

"Well, I'm going! He's my - he's Olivia's father. My mind is made up, Ev, so let's not argue about it. Ulf, are okay to babysit?"

Ulf looked at his wife with sudden alarm.

"Hold on, I thought we were doing this together."

"We only really need one tracker, and I know Roman's scent better than anyone."

Ulf didn't like the reminder, but couldn't deny she had a point. It wasn't his only objection though.

"And what if there is danger -"

"C'mon, that's pretty unlikely - This is Mistvale, for Watcher's sake! I doubt anything here could threaten a werewolf. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on little Liv."

"You are the pack leader...but a husband can't help worrying."

"And you are very sweet to do so, but I'll be fine. Most likely scenario? We'll find Roman passed out on someone's couch and I get to kick his ass for making us worry."

"I do know you are quite proficient at ass-kicking."

"Damn right I am!"

The light and warmth of the building seemed to recede behind them all too quickly.

"This way."

Jacob was glad to have Evelyn's nose guiding them, because that damnable mist made it impossible to see further than twenty paces or so.

It made the streets seem even lonelier and dingier than they were.

[stayfortwominutes]

📝 collision | lee know

disclaimers; self doubt, insecurity, petnames. no depictions of the members' personalities, actions or thoughts reflect their true character.

pairing; lee know × reader

content; angst, comfort | word count; 1.1 k

synopsis; love is timing, and lee know is sure he's missed it.

미안해 그냥 내가 잘못했어 (sorry, babe) i'm sorry, i was wrong (sorry, babe) 변명할 생각 없어 다시 한번 i'm not trying to make excuses 그때로 돌아가 날 사랑한다 말해줘 (young love) let's just go back in time so you can tell me you love me once more (young love)

minho stopped in front of the apartment door with his head hung low as a heavy, melancholic sigh escapes him. his last message sent to y/n over fifteen, dreadful hours ago.

y/n: i have some news! minho: is it good or bad? y/n: um, you might not like it... minho: is it something that can wait till i get home? we're about to board. y/n: it's nothing much, you should rest up! minho: you're so understanding, princess. i think i'll pass out. don't wait up for me, see you when i get there. y/n: have a safe flight ♡

a whirlwind of high strung tension, overwhelming responsibilities, and little rest had begun to take it's toll on not just minho, but his relationship with y/n. in the last four months, the couple had seen each other a total of three times in person, with him being in one country one week, then another the next week. video and phone calls had become the norm. his most recent flight having been delayed, resulted in him spending yet another day away from y/n. all these sour happenings plagued minho's mind and the broken record of self doubt spun as he ruminated on one particular thought: could he give y/n the attention, the dedication and the love she deserved?

minho didn't understand her patience and tolerance for his demanding schedule; especially the last minute cancellation of dates, which had him more than often promising he'd make it up to her, only to be consumed by work again.

the slivers of moonlight glimmering through the drawn curtains was the only light source in the apartment. pensively removing his shoes at the entry way, minho promised himself he'd see y/n just for a brief moment, before he'd surrender it all to the fate that he believed was attempting to sever their red string.

wasn't love about timing? and minho had regretably missed so much of it with y/n.

he had missed their three-year anniversary as a couple, and, to rub salt into the wound, his meticulously planned gift arrived a week late. now, as he crouched down beside y/n's slouched figure; her left arm, that was sprawled on the seat acting as a makeshift pillow; had he noticed the bandage adorning the ankle of her outstretched left leg. a handful of thoughts flew through his mind.

was that what she wanted to tell him earlier? why couldn't he have spared her just an extra five minutes? abruptly, the cloud of despair welcomed itself in minho's mind and he couldn't forgive himself for being so selfish, neglecting y/n's needs when he had vowed them to be more important than his own. carefully, he scouped her into his arms, and sat himself on the couch.

for a moment longer, he'd hold her, enjoy the soft scent of her skin, and memorise the plush of her lips; just once more. absentmindedly, he lovingly stroked y/n's cheek.

"mmmh," she stirred. her eye lids, still weighed down by sleep, slowly opened.

"it's okay, princess. i can't stay long. go back to sleep." minho whispered, pressing a light kiss to the girl's cheek.

a whimsical smile danced on her lips, "hmph, i waited to see you. it's been too long. i missed you, bunny." y/n's hand reached up, delicately tucking a lose strand from his fringe behind his ear. she stared up at him, and minho felt himself relax. the entire universe decorated y/n's pupils; the lustrous glint reflecting from her eyes was enchanting. minho's resolve waivered.

"we'll see each other again soon..." he trailed off. minho caught himself reciting his usual excuses. disappointment settled in the pit of his stomach. y/n raised her finger to trace minho's bottom lip, effectively silencing him. the sleep washed away by the swelling joy of a long awaited reunion between the lovers; it burnt through her veins.

"i've missed you."

"let's talk more tomorrow, it's late."

"no, i want to hear how you've been," y/n refuted.

minho averted his eyes, his gaze trailing to the floor. y/n felt a slight tension seeping between them, and she hastily adjusted herself to straddle his lap.

"be careful, your ankl-"

"are you okay? do you feel sick? you've never been so distant. it's unusual."

"i can't take this anymore. we should call it quits..."

y/n's brows furrowed, her eyes trying to catch minho's.

"i can't be here for you like i used to. i want to give you the world, but i couldn't even spare five minutes to hear how you were... i'm an awful boyfriend. i'll only continue to fall short of your expectations, and you'll grow to accept the loneliness rather than realise you're worth more than all the stars in the night sky."

y/n remained silent, biting on her bottom lip as she watched the slow rise and fall of minho's chest.

"are you done?" she mustered after what felt like an eternity.

y/n hands tightly bunched the undersides of minho's collar, as she comanded his gaze.

"have you fallen out of love with me?"

minho profusely shook his head in disagreement. y/n's eyes searched his, an uneasy emptiness clouded by remorse emitted from its depths.

"then please, listen to me." she voiced pleadingly.

the man, brimming with guilt reverted to avoiding her eyes, as his own darted to the floor. removing her right hand from his shirt, she took her index and thumb to his chin.

"you hold yourself hostage to this image of perfectionism, and you mean well, but it's not you. it's not the 'minho' i fell in love with. did i give you the wrong impression, that you weren't enough? because, bunny, i can't walk away from this... when you're all that i need and more."

minho snaked his arms around y/n's waist, pulling her forward and nuzzling his head into her the crook of her neck. y/n's fingers busied themselves tracing soothing patterns against the nape of his neck.

"there you go... you're taking the blame. but how can i continue to do this to you. i love you. but i'm not even brave enough to announce it to the world." minho sighed against y/n's skin. the warmth of his breath further fuelling the smouldering fire alight in her heart.

"how can you love me, if you leave me? you're the one who taught me to love myself... you are my world."

if love was about timing, then y/n was determined establish her own.

consider reading more: masterlist

note; i really enjoy the varying interpretations for collision's lyrics. please let me know if you have any feedback or want a continuation of any of my drabbles. credit to hyunloversclub on twitter for the lyric translations. © stayfortwominutes ; august 08, 2023.

[strangedreamings]

S3E4 (spoilers abound)

Portia, Prudence, and Philippa listening at the open door while Debling calls on Pen. The three of them are anything but subtle.

Aww, he gave her a potted plant so she can have nature indoors with her. I hope somebody in this house has a green thumb. He is sweet but he'd better be honest with whoever he ends up marrying about his actual reason for finding a wife.

Has Pen truly given up on Colin? It's sad if that's true.

"I will surely eat all of the biscuits" You mean we FINALLY have an appearance by Colin's bottomless pit of a stomach? It only took what, TWO AND A HALF SEASONS?!

Violet knows when something is up but she also knows a dismissal when she hears one.

Benedict and Lady Tilley. Yeah, she's this season's Siena, though I will say I like her a lot more than I liked Siena (which isn't hard). She won't last but at least they'll be fun to watch while she's around.

Agatha and Marcus. Their dynamic is interesting -- "Do whatever, I'm too busy to get involved." I doubt he'll last beyond S3, but you never know.

"to become the new Marquess Samadani" OH MY FUCKING GOD, SHONDA, YOU DID NOT!!! The wife of a marquess (or a female marquess in her own right) is not called a marquess, but a MARCHIONESS! I know marquess isn't a common title in the British peerage but Shonda, you have access to Wikipedia, FUCKING USE IT!!!

"You read me too well." God, I love Charlotte and Brimsley.

Violet, El, Fran, and the kids are expecting Lord Samadani but Maybe-John has dropped in instead. We'd better learn his name soon, this is driving me nuts.

"John Stirling, Earl of Kilmartin." FUCKING FINALLY!!!! I don't care that his accent is wrong, I love this guy already! Is your cousin Michael in town too, John? Or is he earning his title of the Merry Rake elsewhere?

John and Fran are simply enjoying the silence and the rest of the family is completely baffled, I love it. And here comes Samadani, lovely. John, your timing is awful.

Samadani seems like a nice enough guy, he's just wrong for Francesca.

Love the library, hate Portia's internalized misogyny. I really feel for Cressida now. Can Debling marry her once Colin finally gets his head out of his ass and marries Pen?

I take "revelry" to mean Colin's friends are going whoring and want him to come with, lovely.

Debling is finally being honest? Well, not directly, but still, I'll take it for now. Oh, he's being subtle but he is being direct, got it. Poor Pen, she's torn between the life she wants and a good life that's being offered to her.

Colin with his two ladies again but this time, he's not into it. If you've already paid, Colin, you could've just bid them goodnight and left, you didn't have to stay.

Francesca running into John on the street. These two are a little too quiet for their own good, but I'm sure they'll be fine, maybe with a little help from Violet.

The Cowpers' sitting room has to be the most depressing room on the planet. Lord Cowper's forbidding Cressida from being friends with Eloise? Is it because of Colin? Or Pen? Or maybe he thinks she's putting too much effort into the friendship and not enough into finding a husband. Cressida, I'm guessing you're the same age as Daphne, so I believe that makes you 23 now. You're a legal adult and have been for two years. It would be highly irregular but you could move out of your parents' house. I'm sure the Bridgertons would take you in if Eloise explained everything.

Uh oh, the Mondriches' pub needs saving (again). We'll have another last-minute save by a Bridgerton by the time S3 is over, I'm sure. Frankly, most of the ton can fuck themselves, and that includes Colin's "friends," especially Fife. Pig.

Colin wanting more out of sex is a great sign of both his maturity and him falling in love.

So Debling's serious about proposing to Pen. Poor Pen and poor Cressida.

BTW, I love how the subtitles keep calling the music this season "pensive," it feels like an unintended pun.

For a woman who can't come up with a decent metaphor to save her life, Violet is very wise when it comes to her kids. Oh, she is playing Colin like a fiddle! Go, Violet!

I really like her and Marcus together, he seems like a great guy, though apparently somewhat estranged from Agatha.

Cressida came to Eloise. El really brings out the best in her, something her parents really try to keep hidden. I swear to God, Shonda, if you don't give Cressida a happy ending, I will.

Be careful, Fran, especially with the Queen watching.

Colin has finally outgrown his "friends," halleluiah!

Well, at least Debling bowed out gracefully. And Cressida still has a chance, as slim as it is.

Oh, is this THE carriage scene? Not quite how the book one went but hey, if we get the same outcome, I'm all for it.

Aww, Colin looks like he's about to cry.

"Are you going to marry me or not?" Colin, I could kiss you but I'll leave that to Pen. WE GOT OUR BOOK PROPOSAL!!!

And we don't even get an answer before the episode ends.

Nice cliffhanger, Shonda.

[stillwintering]

All's Fair in Love and Politics (a modern Nessian AU - where Rhys is running for president)

Summary: In the ruthless arena of politics, victory demands risking everything, even one's own heart. Rhysand has his eyes on the presidency. Feyre convinces her estranged sister, Nesta, to join the political campaign. Nesta and Cassian find themselves forging an unexpected bond as the campaign intensifies. But can their budding romance survive the treacherous waters of modern political warfare?

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Cassian spent the rest of his evening at the River House, which had turned into an impromptu campaign headquarters of sorts. After all the official business was settled and Amren had left to take the last flight back to DC, Cassian found himself lingering in the company of Rhys and Azriel. They gathered in Rhys's expansive wood-paneled study for a nightcap.

It had been too long since the three of them had the chance to simply exist together as brothers in arms without the weight of duty or the shadow of danger looming over them.

The day's activities had visibly taken a toll on Rhys, understandable given how many media appearances he completed. By all accounts, the speech had been a resounding success, yet Rhys seemed lost in thought, gazing pensively at the drink in his hand, almost sad.

"Don't tell me you're getting cold feet." Cassian's voice broke the silence. He leaned in, trying to catch Rhys's eye, giving him a teasing nudge on the elbow. Azriel, seated in an armchair on Rhys's other side, only observed silently.

Rhys raised his head, a faint smile on his lips, though his eyes remained somber. "Something like that."

Cassian sucked in a breath. "I'm afraid it's too late to turn back now, brother." He held up his crystal glass, the amber liquid inside glinting in the lamplight, before taking a sip. "The horse is out of the barn."

"What if..." Rhys looked away to the moonlit sky out the window of his study and the Sidra sparkling under the stars.

"It will be a tough fight for the nomination and a even tougher fight in the general election." Cassian smiled at him reassuringly. "It's going to be hard and chances are, we'll lose. But no one will fault you for that."

Rhys shook his head, his expression turning resolute. "No, I mean what if I actually win?"

A moment of realization washed over Cassian. "There's no one else I'd trust more with such power and responsibility," he told him.

"I don't trust myself," Rhys murmured, his voice tinged with a vulnerability rare for him.

"I know you." Azriel knocked his knee gently against Rhys's. "You're the one," he stated firmly.

Rhys's gaze drifted away again, his doubts still clinging to him like shadows.

Cassian turned to Azriel. "They say a good man can't get elected President these days," he mused with a half-smile. "I refuse to believe that. Do you, Az?"

"Absolutely not," he responded without hesitation.

"And you think I'm that man?" Rhys interjected, his face still dark, "Does it matter that I'm not as sure?"

"Do you remember that operation outside of Kabul? The one that went sideways real fast?" Cassian reclined back in his armchair, his demeanor thoughtful. "Our first hot zone and we were completely outgunned, stuck in a crossfire with enemy combatants all around. I’ll be honest, I thought we were done for. We were just rookies back then. But you, Rhys, you just took over like you were born to do it. Directing our moves, calling out targets, staying cool under that kind of heat. You got us out of there with zero civilian casualties. It’s a rare thing, Rhys."

Cassian stopped to catch his eye. "I knew from that moment that I would follow you into the Mist of Avalon."

Azriel only chuckled while Rhys let out a dry laugh. "Cass, please, you're the one with the natural aptitude for strategic combat." Rhys waved his hand. "But I do find, somehow, urban warfare easier to navigate than politics."

Cassian raised his glass in a toast, prompting the others to do the same. "To fighting the good fight then," he announced with a wink. "Political or otherwise."

Azriel joined in, his glass meeting theirs with a gentle chime. "To making a difference," he added.

Rhys looked at his friends -- his brothers -- their faces unflinching. "To the future," he said, his eyes clear and focused. "May it be brighter than we dare to hope."

---

By the time Cassian and Azriel returned to the House of the Wind, the inky night had draped its silent shroud over the building. They expected the grand lobby to be completely deserted at this late hour. Yet, to Cassian's wonder, Nesta was there.

Lost in a world of her own, Nesta walked under the dim glow of the ornate chandelier, her figure casting long, fluid shadows across the polished marble floor. From the way she was dressed, it looked like she was about to go on a late-night run.

It wasn't until Cassian stepped into her space, closing the distance to a mere foot, that she snapped out of her thoughts. Her gaze, sharp and piercing, lifted to meet his and then to Azriel's. A flicker of surprise darted across her features before she veiled it with a practiced air of indifference.

"Going on another evening run?" Cassian asked her as a way of greeting.

Nesta's response was terse, her lips pursing slightly as she uttered a succinct "Yes." She looked over the both of them again. "Anything happen at the meeting at the River House?"

"You didn't miss much," Azriel responded. "Amren will send out a memo first thing tomorrow."

Cassian studied her for a beat longer, noting the slight clench of her jaw and the way her eyes darted to the lobby doors. An idea sparked in him.

"If you give me ten minutes," he offered, gesturing towards the elevators with a hopeful tilt of his head, "I can join you."

The words hung in the air, a delicate offer. He saw it then -- the imperceptible stiffening of her posture, ready to refuse. So he quickly added, a playful note in his voice, "I know all the good running routes around here."

Nesta hesitated, but her expression wavered. "I would rather run on my own."

"I don't blame you," Azriel teased, unable to stop himself. "Cassian is terrible company."

Cassian scowled at his brother. "It's dark out, Nes," he tried again. "Let me come with you."

Nesta looked away to the pitch-blackness that lay outside the lobby doors, calculating. Although Velaris was generally a very safe city, she had never tried to navigate it in the dead of night. Finally, she looked back at him, her expression unreadable.

"Fine," Nesta acquiesced. "Ten minutes."

She gracefully sidestepped, allowing Cassian and Azriel access to the elevators. She then glided to a nearby sofa, settling into its plush cushions to wait.

Cassian burst into the elevator and jabbed at the buttons for their respective floors, his foot tapping impatiently. Azriel leaned back against the elevator wall, his arms folded casually across his chest, with a mischievous grin on his lips as he observed Cassian's barely veiled agitation.

"Easy there, big guy," he remarked affectionately. "She's not going to disappear."

Cassian shot him a quick, frustrated glance. "I just don't want to keep her waiting longer than necessary," he muttered.

"Oh, is that so?" Azriel's eyebrow arched in amusement. "Or could it be that you're just eager to spend time with her under the starry sky?"

As the elevator finally dinged at Cassian's floor, he practically leaped out. "You don't know what you're talking about, Az," he retorted over his shoulder.

Azriel laughed, shaking his head as the elevator doors slid shut. "Good luck!" he called after Cassian.

---

Cassian led the way, his stride confident and familiar as they ran up the winding road that hugged the contours of the mountain behind the House of the Wind. The path, bathed in the soft glow of well-placed lights, carved a serpentine trail through the dense pine forest and upwards into the heart of the mountainside. A delicate mist had descended, settling into the treetops like cobwebs.

"There's a lookout a few miles up with an amazing view of the city," Cassian said, his voice a gentle rumble in the quiet night.

Nesta only nodded, allowing him to set a moderate pace. The scent of pine and earth filled her senses, and she found herself leaning into the night air, into his steadfast strength beside her.

Their heavy breaths, synchronized and rhythmic, filled the silent space between them.

As they ascended, the forest around them began to change. The trees grew taller, their branches interlocking above to create a natural cathedral, their needles whispering secrets. She let all the noise of her mind recede into the thickening mist, let it wrap around her like a soothing embrace.

When they finally reached the lookout, Nesta stopped, her breath labored from the climb, and gazed out at the glittering city below, beyond the mist of the forest, sprawled like a jeweled tapestry, the lights flickering like distant stars caught in an earthly web. The world seemed to pause -- the only sounds were their heartbeats and the distant hum of Velaris.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

Cassian turned towards her, his expression soft yet intense. His hazel eyes, reflecting the city's lights, narrowed on Nesta as if she were the only object in this vast, sparkling expanse. "Yes," he breathed.

Nesta could feel the blood rushing through her head. A breeze tousled Cassian's hair, setting it dancing wild under the silver glow of the moon.

"Tell me why you're here," Nesta asked, her words floating on the night air.

He bowed his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Tell me why you left a promising military career to work on a long shot political campaign."

He studied her face intently, sensing the urgency in her question. He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Because I care about who gets to be in the room where it happens," he finally said.

Nesta's brow furrowed, her eyes searching his for more.

"I was a good soldier," Cassian continued. "But in the military, I was a cog in the machine. Being on the ground, seeing the consequences of following orders... it changes you."

He paused, his gaze growing distant. Cassian remembered his lover during the war -- Tanwyn, with a smile like a storm, who was a surgeon with Doctors Without Borders. She chose to work at a hospital in the middle of a conflict zone and chose to stay even when the town came under siege. After the bombing started, Cassian disputed his commander's decision to engage the enemy so close to a civilian-occupied area. When that went nowhere, he had begged, begged her to get to safety. But Tanwyn had refused, "I didn't go through 14 years of medical training to abandon my patients." Her last words to him.

It took Cassian a very long time to get over her death.

He cleared his throat and looked away.

"I've experienced the fallout of strategic miscalculations, witnessed the collateral damage of executive decisions made in far-off offices," Cassian concluded. "No more senseless wars. That's why I'm here."

Nesta listened, absorbing his words. She tried to understand the rollercoaster of emotions that had swept through his face.

"And you think Rhysand Starborn is the right person to be in the room where it happens?"

Cassian gave her a wry grin. "Funny you should ask."

"Why?"

He dismissed the moment with a shake of his head.

When he faced her again, Cassian's expression was one of unwavering conviction. "I am certain he is the right person for the job."

Nesta took a long moment to study him, taking in the firm set of his jaw and the gentle curves of his lips -- the lines crinkling around his eyes seemed to tell stories of bravery and compassion.

"Okay," she said at last, as though settling an internal debate.

"Okay?"

Nesta nodded, this time with a certainty that seemed to anchor her. "Yes, okay," she repeated, giving him an assured smile.

They stood together for a moment longer, time seemingly stretching out as they surveyed the panoramic view of Velaris. The night breeze caressed Nesta's skin and sent a shiver down her spine as her body cooled from their earlier ascent to the overlook.

"Shall we head back?" she suggested, her arms instinctively wrapping around herself for warmth.

Cassian agreed with a dip of his chin, but his curiosity piqued. "These evening runs of yours, are they a regular thing?"

Nesta hesitated, her words tangling slightly. "Yes -- no, well, sort of. I'm actually training for the National Women's Half Marathon," she clarified. "I've committed to running it with some friends."

"If you want, I could help -- I could train with you."

Nesta mulled over his offer again, the sincerity in his voice apparent. "That might be nice," she said, giving in to the tug in her heart. "I'll let you know when I'm planning my next run."

Cassian's answering smile was so bright, so full of warmth, that Nesta felt momentarily dazed -- a radiance that rivaled the moon above.

"Come on then." He turned from the outlook, and Nesta followed, falling into step beside him as they began their descent.

---

Nesta inhaled deeply, trying to stifle the swell of emotions in her chest. She stood on the meticulously groomed lawns of the River House, where Feyre was hosting a luncheon for the League of Women Voters of Velaris.

In front of her, the Starborn's grand conservatory was bustling with guests -- their conversations a steady buzz against the clinking of fine china. The large glass structure was situated in the back of the house, hidden from view from the street. Sunlight poured in through the expansive glass panels, bathing the interior space in a golden, dappled light. The conservatory itself was an oasis of botanical beauty, brimming with an array of vibrant flowers and delicate greenery. Nesta knew immediately that Elain must love it here.

Feyre weaved through the crowd with grace and charm, playing the part of hostess perfectly, but Nesta knew her sister was still adjusting to the relentless glare of the public eye. That was why she agreed to drop into the luncheon to make sure that the reporter the local paper sent to cover the event was on their best behavior.

Nesta had never been to the River House before. Every Christmas, a perfunctory invitation to visit from Feyre would arrive, and each time, Nesta found a convenient excuse to decline, preferring to maintain a distance from the life that Feyre had carved out for herself. Standing before the River House, with its stately charm and the Sidra flowing majestically in the background, Nesta couldn't help but feel a pang of regret mingled with a deep urge to flee.

When Feyre's eyes found hers through the glass panels, Feyre's relief was evident as she beckoned Nesta inside.

"I'm so glad you're here," Feyre murmured.

Nesta, feeling a rare surge of sisterly affection, reached out and gave Feyre's hand a reassuring squeeze. "You're doing great," she offered, her voice softer than usual.

Feyre's smile wavered. "I've been so nervous about this event," she confessed. "And talking to that reporter later. I've never done any press without Rhys before."

"I've already vetted the interview questions. There won't be any curveballs," Nesta reassured her. "It's a simple society piece for the local paper, nothing too intense. Just steer clear of any policy talk. You'll be fine."

Feyre bit her lip. "Can you stay until after I talk to the reporter?"

"Of course, I'll stay."

With a nod of gratitude, Feyre turned and glided gracefully back to mingling with her guests.

Left to herself, Nesta pulled out her phone to go through the emails that inevitably crowd her inbox. She glanced around and noticed a large door that led into the quieter recesses of the River House. The luncheon was in full swing, but she couldn't find it in herself to work the room the way Feyre or Rhys would.

Nesta crossed the threshold, finding herself in a peaceful hallway. She took in the grand space around her: the high ceiling, intricate moldings, and silk curtains framing the windows. As she looked down the corridor, her eyes followed the row of oil paintings lining the walls. Something about them seemed deeply familiar -- the impressionistic brushwork and open, airy compositions bore the unmistakable touch of Feyre's hand.

Nesta made her way down the hallway, her steps soft and nearly silent on the plush carpet, looking for a quiet space away from the party to focus on her inbox. Eventually, she found herself in a cozy sitting room, its wide walls lined with books.

Her eyes immediately fell to the shelves full of framed photographs. Nesta stepped closer to study the pictures.

There were several of Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian together, chronicling different chapters of their lives -- from their college days to their military service to ski trips that appeared suspiciously like snowball fights.

In each image, Cassian's smile was wide and unrestrained, his arms invariably slung around his brothers, his hair noticeably longer in his younger years. Azriel, by contrast, looked stern, though his eyes were warm. Rhys appeared relaxed and completely at ease among his friends and family -- a side of him she had never witnessed.

There were photos of Mor exuding her usual glamour and confidence. In one snapshot, Mor stood between Azriel and Cassian. They were dressed to the nines. Azriel looked at Mor with something like total adoration on his face, while Mor was laughing with her head thrown back, leaning into Cassian. But Cassian was grinning at the camera.

An old photograph tucked in the back was of the Starborns -- Rhys's father and mother. Beside it was a portrait of Rhys's mother sitting by the fire on what looked like Christmas morning.

Then Nesta recognized an image that must have been taken the night Rhys had first won his congressional seat -- even Amren was smiling in that one. Feyre, joyous, was in the middle of leaning into a hug from Rhys. He looked only at Feyre even as the dozen faces in the photos were turned towards him.

Scattered in between the memories of their "inner circle" were many photos chronicling Nyx's young life -- a teary-eyed Rhys holding an ultrasound with Feyre behind him; a portrait of Feyre with a swollen belly; Feyre holding Nyx for the first time on a hospital bed with Rhys next to her; Rhys lifting a toddler Nyx into the air. There was a blurry image of Nyx at his third birthday party, white frosting all over his face, with Cassian and Mor fussing over him and Azriel standing to the side laughing, clumps of frosting in his dark hair.

The most recent photo was one of Elain and Nyx together, surrounded by flowers in a field.

Nesta felt her pulse quicken in dread. These photographs were windows into the vibrant life Feyre had lived, yet, Nesta found no trace of herself in these frozen moments.

Finally, she noticed a large photo in a corner -- Feyre was wearing a simple white slip-dress, her arms interlocked with Rhys, dashing in a blue linen suit. They were standing barefoot on a beach, waves crashing behind them. Feyre held a large bouquet of hydrangeas and roses in her other hand. Surrounding the smiling couple on either side were Cassian, Mor, Azriel, and Amren. They were all beaming, although Mor had clearly been crying. It was plainly a wedding photo.

It suddenly struck Nesta that there were no images from the grand Velrais wedding at the House of the Wind. Rather just another portrait of Feyre and Rhys -- taken on the same day on the beach -- looking adoringly at each other. Their hands were joined, prominently displaying their golden wedding bands.

Nesta realized that she hadn’t encountered Cassian, Azriel, or Mor at the ceremony she attended. She was certain she would have remembered someone like Cassian with his distinct presence. The Velaris wedding was a formal event attended by hundreds of guests, a high-society wedding. But the pictures on the shelf displayed a private, intimate celebration for only those closest to the couple.

She didn't know how much time had passed as she stood there, taking in the evidence of the chasm that had grown between her and her sister. The pictures showcased a version of Feyre's life that Nesta had never been part of, a narrative woven from experiences and bonds she hadn’t shared.

Nesta felt like a stranger looking in, witnessing a parallel world where laughter and joy flowed freely, a stark contrast to the guardedness that marked her own interactions with Feyre.

"Aunt Nesta!" A child's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

Nesta turned swiftly at the call. "Nyx?" she asked in surprise, her eyes landing on her young nephew. His round cheeks were just visible as he peered around the edge of a nearby armchair.

"Hi Nesta." Elain emerged behind him with Mr. Carrot in tow.

Nesta felt every muscle in her body tense. "Hi Elain," she returned, keeping her voice neutral.

"Feyre mentioned you might drop by today." Elain smoothed her skirts, almost nervous, but smiled tentatively. "I hear things are going well with the campaign."

Nesta bristled at the comments. She hated that her sisters seemed to treat her like a problem to be handled -- managed.

"The campaign is going as expected," she replied curtly.

Elain hesitated, her lips parting as if to say more, but her gaze shifted to Nyx. "Are you hungry, dear?" she asked him softly.

Nyx, his attention still fixed on Nesta, shook his head, his curiosity about his aunt undiminished.

Feeling the need to escape the conversation, Nesta made a move to leave. "I should get back to -- "

"Nesta, wait," Elain interjected quickly, her expression turning earnest. "Won't you stay for tea? It's been a while since we all sat down together." Her hand dropped to rest on Nyx's shoulder. "We really should catch up."

Nesta's eyes swept the room -- this house with its layers of memories, the shelves lined with snapshots that narrated a life where everyone was content, perhaps even better off, in her absence.

With a dry chuckle, Nesta gestured at their surroundings. "I think I'm all caught up, thanks."

Elain's expression faltered. "Nesta, that's not fair," she said as a flicker of hurt crossed her features. “I’m sorry I never got around to returning your calls. But -- ”

Nesta's gaze hardened. "Are you?" she countered, her voice low but sharp. "Everyone here seems quite happy have their entire lives subsumed by Rhysand Starborn."

Elain frowned. "Please Nesta, it's not like that," she began, but Nesta cut her off.

"I can't have this conversation right now." Nesta turned towards the hallway, her movements brisk.

She needed space, air -- something to clear the tightness building in her chest.

"Where is Aunt Nesta going?" She heard Nyx ask behind her.

But Nesta didn't stop. She looked for the nearest exit -- a pair of French doors that took her back onto the house's sweeping lawns.

She walked towards the water's edge, taking in the midday light, calming her thundering heart. She did not understand herself, why she couldn't bear the hurt in Elain's eyes, why she always felt the need to retreat into herself whenever her sisters were around.

---

Eventually, Nesta took the long way around the grounds of the River House, back towards the conservatory. Feyre was already speaking with a young female reporter when Nesta found them sitting on a pair of Adirondack chairs on the crest of a gentle hill overlooking the Sidra.

She gave them some space as they finished the interview.

"We corresponded over email earlier," Nesta said as she introduced herself to the reporter, reaching out to shake her outreached hand.

The young woman beamed in recognition. "Ms. Archeron," she said.

"Do you have everything you need?"

The reporter nodded. "It's been an absolute pleasure, Mrs. Starborn," she said to Feyre, putting away her voice recorder.

"Do you mind sending us a copy of the story before it goes to print?" Nesta asked.

The reporter's smile never faltered. "Of course," she replied and picked up her bag. "Someone from the paper may reach out later for fact checking."

"You have my contact information," Nesta answered as the reporter shook Feyre's hand goodbye.

When they were alone, Nesta asked, "How did it go?"

"Fine, I think," Feyre replied, her voice wary. "I am just relieved it's over."

"Don't worry," Nesta said. "We'll get a chance to correct the article before it comes out."

Feyre reclined in her chair. "Can you sit with me for a while?"

Nesta flinched. "Feyre," she answered, feeling the tightness building in her chest again. "I have to get back to work."

Feyre looked up at her, her blue-gray eyes shuttered. "Oh," she breathed. "Of course. Sorry to keep you," her voice turning oddly formal, "Thank you for coming today."

---

Nesta threw herself into her work for the rest of the afternoon, finding a quiet refuge in the familiar demands of her tasks. By the time she returned to the House of the Wind, the sun was a fiery orb hovering low in the sky. The majestic sight of the House, silhouetted against the orange and pink sky, was strangely comforting. But the solitude that awaited her in her room felt overwhelming -- for the first time that day, she did not want to be alone.

She stopped at the front desk to ask for Cassian's room number. With a kind of new-found courage, Nesta took the elevator to his floor.

Cassian opened the door on her third knock.

"Azriel, I thought --," he began, before his voice trailed off, his eyes widening at the unexpected sight of Nesta standing before him.

"Hey," she said, taking him in. Cassian's crisp white dress shirt was casually half unbuttoned, giving a glimpse of the defined muscles of his chest and the intricate whorls of black tattoos that contrasted against his golden skin.

Cassian quickly recovered from his initial shock. "Nesta, I wasn't expecting you," he said, holding his door open wider. "What can I do you for?"

Nesta immediately felt the knot in her chest loosen at the humor in his voice. His eyes were studying her gently. The corners of her lips twitched upwards.

"Run with me?"

---

---

---

Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tag list.

Tag list: @acourtofladydeath @fwiggle @swifti-ed

---

[mugenloopdalove]

➼ “Stop smothering me, you dumbass.” “It’s to make up for the lack of hugs in all these years in your life when I wasn’t there!” for stobotnik? :>

Agent Stone was no one before he got assigned to Doctor Robotnik. Even on the force, he was never truly... Wanted. Which, in hindsight, might be why he was assigned to the also widely dislike doctor.

But the doctor, his doctor understood. Sure, there were times he insulted him, times he put him down, times he treated him like nothing more than an inconvenience...

But there were times he made it clear that he knew the truth: he needed Stone as much as he needed him. And then, there were rare, rare occasions where Robotnik showed a completely genuine side of himself. True openness and weakness was rare for him but... Stone was happy to know he was the only one to see that.

As they sat alone one weekend, Robotnik happily sipping on one of his favorite lattes, Stone couldn't help but wonder...

"Sir? If I may ask... What were you doing before we met?" He asked, a bit pensive. He wasn't sure of the doctor would lash out but... He couldn't satiate his curiosity. He needed to at least try to ask.

And... Part of him wanted to know just how special he was to Robotnik. Was there anyone important before him?

Robotnik cocked an eyebrow, putting his coffee down. "Interested in my history, are we, Agent Stone?" He asked, a devilishly handsome grin spreading across his face. "Well, I have been thinking of writing an autobiography. Let the world know the great tale of the universe's most handsome, intelligent, and powerful man that ever has or will live and breathe!" As always, his words were loud and dramatized. And as always, Stone couldn't do anything but smile lovingly.

"I'm sure it will be a best seller, sir," he said genuinely. The world deserved to know of such a fantastic genius.

"Of course it will! Play your cards right and I'll make sure you get a signed copy, agent." The grin on Robotnik's face set Stone's heart aflame. "And I suppose I could give you a preview right now, since you've asked so kindly."

The doctor cleared his throat and rose from his seat and began pacing the floor as he talked, his motions as over the top and beautiful as ever. "As you are already so keenly aware of, I was tragically orphaned from a very young age. But I never once let that stop me. Yes, I was always a step, no five steps!! Ahead of my peers. And while this did leave me so deeply misunderstood, I never needed friends! The other children were unintelligent, disloyal little bugs, not worth even a nanosecond of my time! I created my first loyal, lovely robot from a radio at the tender, youthful age of four, and from there, my babies were all I ever needed."

Stone hung onto every word and... He couldn't help to notice a slight, ever so brief change in Robotnik's tone when he talked about the other children he grew up around...

They weren't so different, were they?

"My genius, flawless intellect carried me to earning my doctrine at 16, and from there, I continued my innovative research in technology for years to come thanks to substantial government funding. I never had time for 'parties' or 'friends' or other... Moronic wastes of precious time. I had science! And science! And my babies, of course, were all I needed."

There was that wavering again... It was starting to hurt Stone's heart...

"The government assigned me many, many agents before I met you, and each felt more moronic, disobedient, and impetulant than the last! And then... There was you, Stone. You understood my intellect! You listened and obeyed so flawlessly! And, you made a killer latte." Stone thought he could faint from all the praise. Robotnik stopped in his tracks just next to his chair, and stayed there, grinning wildly. "And now, here we are! Sure we've had our ups and downs, but we haven't been defeated yet! Our time will come, Agent Stone! And when it does... We'll prove every imbecile that doubted me wrong."

There wasn't Robotnik's usual confidence in the last statement. In fact there... Seemed to be a bit of pain behind the words. Stone couldn't take it. He did the one thing he could think of, something he wanted to do for years now. Something he should have done long, long, long before...

He stood up, boldly grabbed his beloved doctor's arm, and pulled him in for a tight, tight hug, not daring to let go.

"Stone! I- what is the meaning of this... Affection?! Let me go this instant!" Despite his protests, Robotnik didn't fight the hug at all. "I can't- stop smothering me, you imbecile!"

Stone just held the doctor closer, burying his face in the other coat. "It's to make up for the lack of hugs in all these years of your life when I wasn't there, sir." He never was this bold but... He needed Robotnik to know he didn't have to be alone.

"I- I don't need-! I... Stone you-" Finally, Robotnik groaned in defeat, slowly returning the hug with equal force, making Stone's heart race faster than he thought possible. "Don't get used to this, agent. And don't you dare tell another living soul."

"Of course not sir. It's our secret."

[quaddmgd]

CONSIDER YOUR ASS COVERED

"We've come so far, haven't we?" Crystal remarked, looking in the distance. "Seems unreal." Thalia, after looking in the same direction for an extended period of time, worried, turned to her, only to see her subtly smiling. Suddenly, she looked back, extending her smile, asking "Are you ready to finish this?"

Thalia never demonstrated fear during her nomad days. While Crystal knew that there must be more behind that facade, she couldn't help but see her as a bit of a role model for that. Whether she was scared to do something or not, wasn't important. In the end she always did it with bravery written all over her face.

While her friend has softened a bit during their forced separation, only now Crystal felt like she really understands what must be going on in her mind. She died, and then she got reborn. She lost the most important person in her life since leaving her hometown, then she rejoined her.

Thalia always was a pensive person, but Crystal knew that she must've been thinking about her entire life for quite some time now. Whatever made her leave Nevada, made her live on her own, make mistakes and live with them with no shoulder to cry on, only to find Crystal and her family. Then she lost them, just like she almost lost her life. Now, being here, starting to doubt why she's working for a person her old self would never want to work for, having Crystal back, getting her new friends as a bonus; torn between being happy that she's almost there, in a place she would want to spend the rest of her life in, and being scared of losing all of that, feeling guilty for asking Her for help.

How viable is her vision of "happily ever after" anyway? And is she willing to risk, not only her own life, but everything Crystal has managed to build for herself and her significant other?

Maybe the tables have turned… maybe it's time for Crystal to be Thalia's role model.

"We'll make it. Focus on the mission and it'll be over in no time. I got your back, Sully. I always will."

[tinydappledleaf]

Title: Stay

Chapter: 2/6

Pairing: Ezra x f!Reader, Ezra x you (Reader is addressed by 'you' or nickname)

Rating: 18+, smut in chapter 6

Content: Situationship to romance, soft Ezra, intimacy, loss of limb (non-explicit), canon compliant

Summary: When you've almost given up waiting for him, a certain prospector returns to the Pug to call in a favor...

Ao3: complete fic

《 chapter I chapter 3 》

Chapter II

Ezra gains awareness more often now, his wakeful moments brightening the room's atmosphere significantly. The second his voice fills the space, still rough and worn from its lack of use, the gloom of doubt retreats. He’s recovering, slowly but steadily, fighting off death’s cold and grabby fingers.

There’re secrets, between him and the girl, that you witness with each conversation, wordy or mute, that happens between the two. You wonder what has prolapsed out there, in the Green, to bind such and unlikely duo. Neither Cee nor Ezra care to share, yet, and you tiptoe around it, cautious to mind the delicate boundaries reigning all queries and tales.

He's told you that he owes her. That she has saved his live, more than once. That she chose to stick around, has nowhere else to go. The least he can do is allow her to stay and learn, though he hardly deems himself anything akin a teacher, let alone guardian.

"I apologize for loading that onto you as well, Patches," he says when Cee's out and about to look for... well, something she didn't want to tell you about.

"As soon as I'm back on my feet, we'll be off your back. I won’t overstay my welcome."

You raise a brow at him as you dribble expectorant into a half full glass of fresh water. Getting rid of the dust is something you won't (let him) neglect. You know the dangers, the potential consequences of protracted infections. The Green is lethal. Years later, unexpected, for some.

Not for him.

You'll make sure of that.

He takes the glass, pulls a pout, then downs it in one go. You shake your head at his antics and free him of the empty glass.

"You're always welcome here. Both of you."

"Very conside-"

"No, I mean it, Ez. I enjoy your company."

You rarely snub him, adore his verbose quality. Sparking exasperation in most, for you its soothing, somehow, to hear him turn any two word matter into a full discourse. But there's no further discussion in this point and you want it known.

"I've been waiting for you to show your mug here for much longer than anticipated. I'd appreciate if you didn't run off and jump right into the next heap of trouble the tick you recover."

You know he still might. Ezra’s an alley cat. A roamer. He doesn’t stay, doesn’t commit. It sucks, you think. But it’s part of who he is.

As if he has read your very mind, he offers a sheepish smile and a shrug that makes him wince.

It hurts you still, to see him like that. In pain. Bone-weary. Somewhat broken and at wit's end. It’s not the first time he’s taken damage out in the void. You’ve patched him up countless times, bestowing a little more meaning upon his nickname for you, besides the obvious hint to your well-loved patched up overalls. You’re certain it’s one of his reasons to keep returning. For you to aid all injuries and grievances, big or small, and help him rebound. But none of those have ever been so… devastatingly permanent.

“That dreadful, hm?” he asks and only now you become aware that you’ve been staring at the bandaged stump that once was his right arm. Caught, you redirect your gaze to his face. His pensive smile unsettles you greatly, hence, you boldly lie. 

“I’ve been eyeballing measurements. For replacement.”

Ezra tilts his head and sees right through you. He knows you long and well enough. You’re not that sloppy when it comes to your work and passion. He doesn’t call you out, however.

“I won’t be apt to compensate you suitably, I fear. Great loss and little gain have marked my voyage into the Green. Not quite what I had longed for.”

It’s your turn to shrug then. You don't live off the smell of you oily rags. You can bear one job without payment. You cannot bear watching him and sensing the concern that festers inside. The whisper of uncertain future and dread to accomodate to his life altering predicament.

“I’ll figure something out, Ez.”

You know he’s not entirely destitute, either. When you stripped him out of his tattered suit with the help of Cee, a singular aurelac gem dropped from one of its pockets. You’ve shoved it back in, not mentioned it once, since. You won’t now. He’s lost his crew, his ship, his belongings, his arm. You will not take the little he has left. And he’s smart enough not to offer it. After all, he has a teenage girl to care for. And many necessities to replace. The meager haul will barely serve to get them through for a few seasons, give and take. Not worth its cost.

“You know what?” you say and pat his shin through the blanket, “Since you’re up, I’m gonna cook.”

His eyes grow large at the prospect of food. Real food. Not those ready packed protein slushies and Bits Bars he’s been surviving on. His innocent reaction lures a smile from you, the heavy prior conversation momentarily forgotten.

"You're kevvasend, Patches. I hereby vow, I will acquit my debt to you. If there's anything I can do to compensate, speak your wishes."

“Oh, hush Ez," you laugh as you get up.

You can't ask him to stay. You won't clip his wings. 

You leave him to his own devices then, glad to direct you focus elsewhere and away from the wistful thought, and head into the niche that is your kitchen. Your living quarters are by no means large. The Pug offers little in matter of quality of living. At least in your financial range. There are spots for the luckiest ones, who’ve turned adventures into riches. High up, above the container structures that serve the those below the salt.

You don’t love the Pug. You don’t hate it either. For you, it serves a purpose. Travelers of all sorts frequent here and there’s always something to repair - be it a radio. Or a foot. It all pays well enough.

The area you live in might not be one of the nicest, but at least its no hellhole. Those are located closer portside. The days out are safe around here, beyond the occasional pickpocket. The nights are certainly not.

Cee knows as much, so she comes in no later than sundown. You’re relieved to see she seems to carefully gain some autonomy, unsticking herself from Ezra’s side little by little since he’s up. The trauma sits deep inside her soul, so much is obvious. But the ever-present haze of gloom that hangs above her lifts the tiniest bit with each passing cycle. She’s talking more now and her smartness shines with each witty retort.

Today she comes ‘home’ early. As she enters the living room, she holds a curious flat package pressed close to her chest, similar to the one she brought in cycles prior, and you wonder what's inside. Her sneakineass piques your interest, though you don't pry. If Ezra trusts her, so do you. There's no ill intent behind her secrecy. 

Immediately after entering, she disappears into the tiny adjacent bedroom that has become her save haven. Surrendering it to her had only seemed the right thing to do. You don’t mind making do with the makeshift cot beside your provisory workspace, compiled of old roll mats, blankets and some stray pillows.

It’s all a bit cramped and no permanent solution for sure, but the situation justifies it for the time being, no question.

Cee reemerges from her hiding spot no sooner than you call her.

She helps you craft a crude dinner table from supply boxes in front of the couch and takes a seat as you serve dinner.

You’re a little proud of yourself as you carry the bowls over.

Living by yourself, you rarely take the time to cook. But Cee looks like she could use a decent meal and Ezra must be starving by now.

You’ve been taking it slow for him with solid food, not sure how much he’d be able to stomach, given his overall condition. But you’ve heard his stomach grumble several times throughout the afternoon and decided it’s time to take pity on him. Thus, you now offer something a tad more substantial than thinned out nutrient rations.

As you set down a bowl of stew in front of him and Cee, excitement settles over her features, and she doesn’t waste time to dig in. Very much like Ezra, it apparently has been some time since she last got any proper food between her teeth. She praises your (in your mind decent) cooking skills avidly between loaded spoons and you revel in her joy over something as simple as dinner. Your attention is on her until she freezes, spoon mid-air from bowl to mouth. A slight frown replaces the expression of content.

“Are you okay?”

Her cautious question returns your attention to Ezra, who’s fallen utterly silent. He still resides on the couch, now upright despite the nasty gash right though his midsection. The white-knuckled grip on his innocent cutlery sparks concern. First you guess pain. Then frustration. The situation must harshly remind him that he now, by force of events, is left-handed. A circumstance that threatens to grow more challenging with his progressing recovery.

But his expression reveals something entirely different. Brows drawn tight together, he stares down into his untouched bowl, lips almost non-existent with how adamantly he presses them into a line. Brown eyes brim with unshed moisture and a shaky breath runs through his tightly strung frame.

“’m fine,” he says but it doesn’t convince either of the friends present.

“Suppose I simply did not expect to someday enjoy another home cooked meal.”

It hits you then, like a wave crushing in. That he’d been closer to giving in than ever before. The Ezra you knew had his ups and downs, sure. You’d seen him falter and rethink, fuss and curse, if something did not turn out the way expected.

But he always, always, found his way out of life’s tumult eventually and, afterwards, spun it masterfully into serpentine stories of misfortune and close calls.

This time, however, he had been on the brink to surrender fate.

It scares you. It scares him. And it is all you can do not to join in and break, after cycles of watching him stubbornly battle the consequences of this one disastrous undertaking. Swallowing against the sudden tightness in your throat, you reach out and wrap your hand around his.

“The more reason to enjoy it.”

His iron grip slackens with your touch, and he collects himself enough to blink the tears away. Soon enough he’s digging in as well and regains a tad of his usual radiance. It does you a world of good to see him delight in the carefree moment that sprouts. In the jokes and banter, the recount of memories.

Ezra narrates one of your misadventures to Cee and you can’t help but roll your eyes at his unbelievable exaggeration of your occasional clumsiness.

You hadn’t meant to set your supplies on fire. And they sure as hell didn’t burn down entirely! But the mischievous glint in his eyes, the verbal jab of his elbow, stokes a familiar warmth deep within your chest.

You’ve missed this - him - so much it hurts. And you long for the moment to last.

Alas, dinner comes to an end eventually.

At least it does in laughter, you think, as Cee mockingly threatens to stab Ezra with her spoon at the mere mention of ‘channel rats’.

You totally get her.

Shortly after, she excuses herself to ‘prepare’ something and you’re left alone with your now exhausted chatterbox.

You’re still undoubtedly curious about the girl, but Cee won’t spill a word about her mysterious project before she retires to her room.

“She writes a novel,” says Ezra off-handedly as you accompany him to the bathroom and only goes into detail at your astonished expression, satisfied to now own your undivided attention as he praises his fledgling. Cee manages to impress you time and again.

Your focus, however, is elsewhere already as you maneuver Ezra to stand in front of the narrow shower cabin. You pause to consider how to go about your task without further hurting him.

“You certain this is necessary?” He quips, obviously mildly amused by your very thoughtful frown.

“Dead certain. No more cat baths, Ez. You reek.” you mutter and he does look somewhat affronted, though he knows you’re absolutely right. Its something else that has him stall. With a sigh, he relents and drops the humor.

You feel the tiniest bit sorry for barreling right through his façade but the tiptoeing around all sensible topics drains your energy. By now you’re tired. You both are. You want to get this over with.

Taking a small step back within the cramped space, you allow him room and privacy to rid himself of shirt and pants. It’s a time-consuming process, but he’s learning, accepting. And you’re there to help, if need be.

While he undresses, you busy yourself preparing new bandages and waterproof stick-on foil to keep his healing injuries dry.

As soon as he’s bare, you step in and skim cautious fingers across his skin to apply the foil around his right shoulder and over the cut in his abdomen. He’s lost some weight, you notice, as your hand ghosts across his stomach. It doesn’t take or add from his looks. He’s always been handsome to your eyes. Always will be.

Mid-way through enduring your gentle care, Ezra begins to ramble again. He tells you about the nights in the Green. How the mist crawls in on stormy ones. And how bright and clear the stars shine through the calm nights. No exhaust. No light pollution. Solely the mesmerizing radiant glow of myriad stars across the void.

You smile at that and try to imagine the beauty he’s found within the Green’s death trap. He amazes you, too, time and again.

You stay as he showers; too afraid still unsteady legs might give in to the slippery tile floor. He doesn’t mind your presence, its nothing new, but neither asks for assistance until he’s done. Upon his call of the nickname he bestowed you with, you hand him a towel and help him peel the waterproof layers of foil away. You don’t leave him time to lose himself in the misted mirror, to mourn his loss and detest his marred image.

You turn him to face you instead, and gently cradle his jaw in both of your hands until your reassuring gaze has melted his frown away. Nothing has changed in the way you see him, how you care for him. With a smile, you allow no space for doubt and he mirrors it, just the tiniest bit more confident.

Only then you move to change his dressings and check the stitches under his attentive observation.

You think there’s something on that wicked mind of his, as you briefly glance at his face. Something on the tip of his silver tongue.

But for now, it remains a secret.

[grokebaby]

"We make magnificent offspring my love."

Grandefel proclaimed, her eyes closed in pride, chest puffed. Deirdre snorted out a little laugh, wrapping her tail under the lion's jawline affectionately. "We do." her smile faded away quickly as she rest her chin on her partner's side. "It's a shame not many people agree.."

Grandefel huffed pensively, yellow swirls bubbling on her crown. "If it were up to me.."

"Yes, when you rule the Ether, my monarch, but alas.." Deirdre quipped, smiling against her fur. "Laugh along demon, but must I remind you The Throne has the form of a lion!" she huffed, setting her head atop her tucked paws. A still silence fell between the two for a moment.

"My point is.."

Deirdre glanced to her partner's direction as she continued her train of thought. "I'd wish we could have more of them.. I used to think maybe someday I'd train an heir, as is customary, but I didn't think I'd be so fond of.. Having a.. Family.." the angel mused softly, her eyes to the ground. Deirdre hummed. "Like your own little Pride.."

Grandefel lifted her head. "Pride..?"

"Yeah, like.. A pack of lions with the parents as the leaders. A Pride." Deirdre replied, lifting her head in turn, her eyes warm. Grandefel scoffed in awe. "A Pride! How genius of those mortals to think of such a term! Let's form our own Pride together, you and me!" her paws knead the ground with excitement, melting a little bit of Deirdre's heart. "I would really like that too.." her voice had a hint of melancholic resignation, and she lowered her head on the warm flank of her beloved.

"I could carry this time." Grandefel suggested, brushing her wispy tail across Deirdre's back bristle, leaving tiny glimmers along the black and white hair. "You could focus on the ones we already have, they're not grown up yet.." Deirdre closed her eyes.

"Focus?"

"Ykno, raise them first, then we'll see.." Deirdre said serenely, only half minding the topic. The angel's longer silence after that however made her doubtful and she half turned to face her, meeting a faceful of deeply thoughtful eyes. "Grande..?"

"It.. Occurs to me, that.. Angels, as opposed to.. Everyone else, have different concepts of raising young.." The angel's eyes half lidded wistfully. Deirdre continued to look at her, now becoming a slight bit concerned. "Only when becoming a sire myself I realised what mortals talk of in regards to parenting. It truly is.. A process, not entirely unlike mentoring, but so much more than i could've imagined. Angels are considered youth so briefly, afterall. Why pamper them beyond that? Or.. Even during.." she closed her lemon colored eyes, voice losing steam towards the end. Deirdre curled up closer, brushing her cheek bristles against the lion's crown softly. "Octurnius was a formidable mentor, but.. A subpar father. It seems that I personally, was never truly parented by him, as it were.." Grandefel hummed, not necessarily melancholic, but her voice carried some sense of loss and otherness that she'd only begun to untangle recently. Deirdre stalled her voice, looking for the words.

"You angels are weird."

Grandefel blew out a scoff, nudging her half grinning girlfriend. Deirdre nudged her back, chittering. "No but, I guess I wasn't much better off.. You could say my sister raised me, since our mother had something better to be doing than carrying two grubs all day. Ykno, like a guardian usually would.." she rolled her top pair of eyes. "And don't get me wrong, from what I've met others of our species, that's not, like, the default. Our kind of demons live in colonies or groups, not.. Duos.. Especially not from infanthood.." Deirdre reminisced, tucking her chin atop her hands. She didn't sound gravely saddened either, but the whole sentence sounded like one long sigh.

"Hmp.. I guess we're both a bit in over our heads.." Grandefel half yawned, squinting at her partner calmly. Deirdre hummed, not finding anything but an agreeing tone to reply with.

[sevnthhart-a]

( 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 ) ⋆ ･ﾟ * // ❛  i feel so tired .  i want to lay down & sleep ,  but whenever i close my eyes ,  i see everything i've been trying to bury .  & it haunts me . & ,  maybe ,  i've made a monster out of myself ,  maybe we've achieved nothing ,  destroyed ourselves for nothing .  how are we supposed to keep going knowing all this ?  how are we supposed not to want to sleep for a hundred years instead ?  ❜ —— @furiaei

there's a moment of silence — she can hear her troublesome heart ;  racing at an abnormal speed from the anxiety of saying the wrong thing. every word that comes to mind feels insufficient. the weight of ... everything felt especially heavy on a lack of sleep, having run on adrenaline for the majority of that week. her stomach dropped at the thought of voicing nothing at all. perhaps that would be worse than trying & failing.

           but she was right. life could be so ugly & unreasonable to them. such notions plagued her as well. had there been such a thing as karma all along? was this a product of their own doing? she dwells on the thought with a pensive expression, eyes averted to the ground as she thinks back on every misdeed that may have led her here  ( as if she were the sole cause of such pain ). her back rested against the chair uncomfortably. yet, it brought a cold solace ;  like a ghost tapping someone on the shoulder or reaching their arms around her for a hug. aerith. tifa was certain & the ache that lingered in her chest only confirmed it. just give it a try, the flower peddler seemed to whisper through the air of the dimly lit room.   ❛  i'm  ...  not really sure .  ❜   it's honest & raw — something she truly believed mya needed. realism was not pessimism after all. so long as jagged breaths could be taken by her & the planet itself, hope would continue to thrive — bruised as both may be.

❛  but i don't think we're supposed to be sure of something like that  ...  ❜   if they were, the planet wouldn't be suffering beneath their feet & mya would not have to feel her heart hurting before her eyes. every problem or worry would eventually soothe itself ;  but life was meant to place everyone on the path of destruction — it was their job to face the consequences & alter course. such a sentiment rang especially true for them.   ❛   ...  it can't be for nothing .  ❜   you are still alive & breathing, despite ... it hasn't been for nothing. she kept her found family close to her heart — mya now included in that picture. they would see a  better tomorrow, so long as she had a say in the matter.   ❛  whatever's ahead of us  —  it won't be easy  ...  & the past is  ...  ❜   she can't get the right words out. the past held mostly bad times, with the occasional goodness in dark corners. she doubted that was something comforting to hear.   ❛  we'll get through it .  ❜   her eyes find hers, the softest of smiles managing to etch itself.   ❛  together ,  yeah ?  ❜

           the lack of sleep could not discourage her from acting on the instinct to protect. be it mind, heart, or body.  ( she would always be there )   ❛  we've  ...  had a pretty long day ,  huh ?  ❜   ( more like a long week )   ❛  that's probably messing with your head a bit  ...  why don't we make some tea instead ?  ❜

[sloaaaa]

i wonder if we're gonna see bowser jr grow up in future mario games, i just think that'd be neat

[milf-harrington]

Also! I don’t know if this counts but I also love your ideas behind all of your art! Like it’s always a stellar story behind it. Azula sitting with her head on her knees with crushing lyrics? Sokka giving Zuko a little head kiss and tea to calm him down? Every single one I’m like wow! That’s such a good idea! And it always slaps everytime, I love it

aaa thank you so much!!! that mostly comes from my inability to stop thinking jfhsjk the most ridiculous and flowery way i can think to word it is: the entire world and everything it contains is my muse, and therefore i find inspiration wherever i turn~

but nah for real- with that azula drawing i was actually just messing around and practicing with different poses, it wasn't even originally going to be azula but then i was like "hey that's kind of a pensive pose... maybe i could draw something with azula that's kind of mellow" and then when i was done i was like "shes missing something..." so i went through all my poetry books looking at all the lines and stanzes i have underlined or circled or whatever and eventually i just pieced together a couple lines from one of my favourite poets (olivia gatwood my beloved) and yeah that's how that one happened - especially because i honestly adore making sort of... collages? with my art.

like i love love love drawing/painting something and then just adding stuff over the top like words or cut-outs or other drawings but it's not really something i explore as much as i probably should/want to; especially considering i was such a c*nt when we were focusing on collages in my cert so i absolutely did not absorb any of that unit and now i sit in front of my canvases like "do NOT call your cert teacher, that's embarrassing" but hopefully after i get my portfolio's back i'll be able to go over all the booklets and the work we did and yes this has for some reason turned itself into a tangent, so we'll be moving along now-

a lot of my art is usually inspired by, like, my own gay yearning/loneliness or silly posts i find or just my friends (a lot of my ts art is inspired by @that-was-anticlimactic) and i have a bunch of different posts saved in my drafts that have "DRAW!!!!" in the tag so yeahh

that last paragraph feels so half-assed after i started going on about collages wow, anyway i doubt any of this was helpful but i hope you enjoy the read?

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 1023 - Initial Thoughts

15 Minutes is on the clock

Onigashima reaches the mainland and the fights continue on. Including the Wings of the King vs the Disasters of the Beast

Without further ado, let's get into it

Spoilers for Chapter 1023, Support the Official Release too

Vivi cover page is nice, proper Disney Princess action with Karoo being jealous birb again, but now I have worries because last we heard something went down with Alabasta...all those post-Reverie questions

Back to where we left off with the boys being back in town

Miyagi can you not ominously foreshadow Zoro's future pain please?

Kawamatsu's here to save Zoro from interference, and Hyou's telling the Yakuza not to get in the way of this fight

Marco though is a pensive Pineapple, taking a good long look at King as he recalls Whitebeard telling him about King's race living on the Red Line before the world nobles, Void Century and before stuff

Mention of Gods does fuel one of my old post fan theories, but also fuels that the WG kicked King's race out of the Red Line

Izo though out here saving Marco from being an easy target, tbh Marineford did show he was prone to a surprise attack

Asking Izo if they believe in God though in a raid that may lead to their deaths is kinda irreverent right now though huh?

Queen back to hyping themselves up though

Hm? Is there a limitation to Sanji's raid suit? Sanji's saying he feels weird

Zoro wasting no time to banter with it though, saving Sanji from King as Sanji returns the favour with Queen

Queen does make a valid point though, as much as Sanji expresses that he is unenhanced by Germa he can also set himself on fire, I do wonder if it is just part of that enhancement in there that he expresses as his 'fiery hot passion'

Lunarian though, that must be King's species' name: moon people again I bet which feeds my fan theories

Also since we mentioned Germa again what happened to them? Jimbei made it out after all and I wanna see me some alive and well Baeju

I would issue doubt on Queen's claim that their enhancements are beyond Vegapunk's, given how little we know of Vegapunk after all

King's got a special sword too, it can change its edge to be teethy which he used to ensnare Zoro's swords

Wado saves Zoro's face from eating King's spiked fist though

King does make a fair point though, traditional weapons are romanticized but a fight's about getting every advantage you can, Zoro at least respects that since King never claimed to be a Swordsman, while also reminding King that he could be a feral bastard too

Kinda gave me mini Mr. 1 fight vibes there

Oh here we go, potential Zoro lineage time

Kawamatsu and Hyou muse over how Zoro was like Ushimaru when he was young, even down to his style (though that could be more Shimotsuki Koushiro's doing since he's Zoro's master)

Also Ushimaru was Ryuma's direct descendant, which means that 1. Ryuma banged, 2. Swordsmanship runs in the blood and 3. Ryuma banged

Also Ryuma also had the one eye, and it does seem pretty mythical that a swordsman of similar skill and stature returns Shusui back to Wano (even though this should mean that Shusui would be Zoro's birthright and he was kinda forced into relinquishing it)

Also worth reminding that Kozaburo was Kuina's grandpa so there may only be loose relations if Zoro is a Shimotsuki too, we don't exactly know how Kozaburo and Ushimaru are related if it's by blood or clan, plus I still wonder about Tashigi

Over to Jack vs Inu though, and Jack's hybrid form is just...weird

I did not need to see an Elephant head with abs you know Oda!

Both are pretty tired, as Jack mocks Inu saying he has forgiven Zou for the Raizo stuff, since he already destroyed most of it

Inu though with the shoulder toss, reminding Jack that they had to make these sacrifices to get to here

But we're getting the epic speech, and the hole in the roof caused by Ashura's sacrifice is changing Inu back into Su Long

Same thing is happening with Neko, turning Su Long in front of Carrot and Wanda (who I guess are covering from the moon) as he stares down Perospero

And I'm glad Neko's pointing out that Pedro's sacrifice is valid. I truthfully always felt a bit iffy about people saying that Carrot's desire to avenge Pedro was ill-found because 'Pedro killed himself'. Had Pedro not sacrificed himself then Brook and Chopper would've been dead by candy and Big Mom would've obliterated the rest on the ship

Raizo and Megaforehead though prelude with the mention of maturity, that everyone - even the Akazaya - needed time to mature into who they wanted to be

Down to the surface though and the Heart Pirates are on high alert/panic, they think Kaido's here

But it's Momo, and he looks magnificent

Shinobu's aged him up to 28, the age he'd be had he not been leapt through time, but now she's upset he looks like Kaido

There's new fire in Momo's eyes though, the return ascent begins!

Can you feel that? It feels like the last stretch before the ultimate battle of Wano

Sanji and Zoro vs King and Queen hopefully will remain a tag bout, but I am curious as to King's abilities and what's affecting Sanji in terms of the raid suit. It's not bad to have a limitation but this is the first we've heard of it after seeing him use it 4 times. I don't hate Zoro being a Shimotsuki, though I do feel like we could've built to this, plus we're still lacking in the how.

One wonders what role Marco will now play, and whether Tiny Tiny Chopper is due to recover. We haven't heard from the others for a bit, nor CP0 nor Yamato. Our Pineapple does have unfinished business with Edward Weevil tbf so he could make it out, Izo may be a variable in that, they've yet to learn of Kiku's fate.

Also we never did see who that mystery person was did we? Still could be Hiyori

Marco's musing about gods does feel like we're gonna get more about King, and more lore of the world that Robin will love to soak up like a sponge, Oda have been leaving these seeds since Skypeia, and where there are Gods, there are Devils.

We are however getting major death flags from the minks, one last turn to Su Long to enable their efforts. I like how Ashura's sacrifice is not in vain because of this though, it makes me wonder if there's a slither of hope for Kin and Kiku. If anything though the minks will die from exhaustion rather than being defeated, Su Long eats away at you after all, it's probably gonna be traumatizing for Carrot a little but I hope we see some resolve out of her more like when she was in Zou and WCI, I still want her for Nakama.

And then the final coup de grace, giant dragon Momo, it's one hell of a panel and it means we're bringing Luffy back into the fight. But the extent of Momo's ripening is only in body remember, in mind he's still young. But now we have the setup for the final fight between Luffy and Kaido, I'll expect in that time we'll have to try and finish off everything else with the Akazaya, reconvening the Straw Hats, King, Queen, Big Mom, Kid, Law, Killer, Hawkins, Apoo and Drake.

Act's not over yet, less than 15 minutes until Onigashima Falls.

[moonlightflower21]

patience

a/n: a small chapter with the mafia turtles. blood. knives. stabbing. pain. all that good stuff. yes i'm also aware i am painfully slow and late on the first official mafia turtles chapter. i'm so mf stressed rn, sorry 🥴

"We can go all night, darlin'. When your body gives out from exhaustion and pain. When yer begging us ta kill you. When you're cryin to end yer life, we're gonna be here. And believe me, ya don't want ta get to that stage" Pulling off the bag from her face, the brute examined her features. She had been hunting them down for days, very nearly coming close in succeeding in her given task. To poison him and his brothers. But little did her gang realise that his family knew about it, knew how suspicious her actions had become and like a hawk, watched her every move. It was only a matter of time until they retaliated. Luckily for her however, the turtles was rather tired from dealing with idiots the entire day. So his energy had depleted significantly.

It was a shame really, he didn't want to ruin such a pretty face. Rules were rules though, threatening the Hamato clan was punishable by death

"I thought you don't hit a woman" She laughed weakly and Raphael shrugged, amber eyes glancing at the sharp array of weapons on the table opposite.

"I don't hit innocent women. I do to those that interfere with my business. Which would explain your predicament" His chest vibrates with chuckles but even her heart drops to the floor, knowing it wasn't an amused laugh. No, this had brought on fear and pain and he hadn't even inflicted anything yet. Still her determined attitude hadn't wavered, much to his displeasure.

"If this is foreplay, can't wait till actual sex" She cries out when the whip slap her, undoubtedly leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Her head yanks back as Raphael grabs a fistful of hair, his face in close proximity of hers.

"Get one thing straight, I've fucked desperate bitches in my past but I wouldn't even use ya for a doormat. Yer low and I know low" He replies sharply, the tip of his sharpened sai trailing down her neck circling around her abdomen.

She screams when the knife is twisted into the first layer of skin, gasping down to where the blood was beginning to pool on her lap.

"All ya got ta do is give me a name doll. And this stops right here. But if not..." He pushes the knife a little more deeper and he grins when she whimpers, trying so hard to not scream. To try keep her composture not wanting to bring any satisfaction to her enemies. But hell, it was hanging by a small fucking thread at this point.

"Any progress?" A deeper, gravelly voice cuts in and both heads look towards the door. The woman lets a small gasp as the rest of the brothers pile into the room. She knew they were tall but not this fucking tall. They were muscular but his pinky could kill a human if enough pressure was added

"Nah, she's stubborn" Raph stops, wiping the few drops of blood from his forehead. He hadn't remembered this much trouble with the other members of her clan.

"Bro! That's my favourite knife" Mikey comes forwards and snatches the steel out of his older brothers hand, grabbing his silk orange handkerchief from the breast pocket to clean the dried blood. He shook his head in disdain, eyeing the victim in the chair. It was rather amusing how many people tried to kill them and yet they always seemed to be on the receiving end of the blade.

"My vote is kill her" The youngest shrugs, very carefully wiping the edges of his tanto where her filthy blood no doubt had touched.

"As convenient as that sounds, we'll never end up getting our information if she's dead. No we need something stronger, powerful" Donnie leans back on the table, looking at the purple and blue blotches on her skin. The way her hair was matted down with blood and sweat, how she looked on the verge of passing out at any given moment. They'd bring her back alive though, she shouldn't have such a quick and painless death.

Raphael had a knack for making his prisoners suffer until they physically and mentally couldn't take anymore, testing each and every brutal limit in their weak bodies. It was only a matter of time until she spilled the dark secret.

But time was not on their side.

"Y-you bastards, I'm not saying anything!" Her voice fluctuates as she tries to keep her heartbeat normal, to keep those nerves at bay. Deep sapphire eyes analyses the struggling woman, quickly tiring of her act to remain strong and mute about the information. Placing a hand deep within his pocket, the eldest of the clan steps forwards a pensive look painted upon his features.

"For a human, I'd expect one like yourself to be withering in agony on the chair. Maybe even gone. Your pain tolerance must be exceptionally high, it'll come in great use for later. For now, you'd do well to remember we're the ones who determine whether you walk out of this building alive. I suggest you start by giving us some answers about your little workplace and your boss. You see, myself..." The eldest grabs the knife from Mikey's hand in a quick flash and plunges it straight within her thigh, unfazed at her screams and the splatter of blood.

"Well, I am not a particularly patient man"

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter three - “penny for your thoughts”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.5k

synopsis: reader runs into a familiar face at the lake near her quarters in wakanda and they get to know each other a bit (kinda meet cute)

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: not my photo

The sunrise in Wakanda was one of the most marvelous things (Y/N) had ever seen. It was truly divine. Magnificent shades of burnt orange and gold bled through the boundless canvas of clouds. The sun, rich and saturated, was the epicenter of these vivacious gradients. It was almost as though Odin himself was painting the sky.

Her windows, encompassing the space of an entire wall, opened her room effortlessly. They led directly to the outskirts of a small lake that perfectly reflected the sunrise. It almost felt like a vacation. Or a dream, whichever came first.

She had slept wonderfully, but woke up early all the same. The beginning of her morning consisted entirely of sitting right outside her room staring at the ascending sun. She supposed she could've stayed there all day as Shuri told her they wouldn't start working until tomorrow; something about settling in and adjusting. Although she thoroughly enjoyed her quiet, warm morning, wasting the whole day cramped up near and inside her room would be a very poor choice.

There's so much here, I might as well enjoy my mini vacation.

She slipped on her shoes, closed the glass door, and made her way to the very lake she was admiring so dearly. She sat at the edge of the lake, letting the smooth sound of the flowing water fill the air around her. It was so quiet, secluded. She was alone; it was lovely. Tranquile even. Being by herself brought a strange sort of comfort, like she was safe and-

"Hello."

She turned around, still sitting. "Oh. Hi Jame- I mean... Bucky."

He smiled, and gave a ghost of a laugh. "Thanks."

"Did you need something? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, it's good. I was just looking around. This place is beautiful."

"Tell me about it," she returned his smile. "I keep thinking like I'm on a vacation or something. It doesn't feel like I'm supposed to work tomorrow."

Bucky nodded his head in agreement. "If I was gonna be... fixed somewhere, I'm glad it's here."

"Yeah, no one's gonna bother us here. Except maybe Shuri when she shows you how much smarter she is than you."

"Kid's a genius," he chuckled. "I've only talked to her a bit and she's smarter than I'll ever be."

At this point he was still standing, his hands clasped politely in front of him. He was just standing next to (Y/N)’s sitting figure. It wasn't a problem until an awkward silence settled over them. She wasn't quite sure what to say.

She wasn't the best with people. She knew exactly how the brain worked and she knew how to analyze behavior, and when it came to her job she knew the right things to say at the right times. But her job has rules; if she's talking with someone, she's treating them. When doing so, there are specific sets of clinical terminology. There were guidelines to follow, scripts to recite. Talking to patients in a work setting was analytical and made sense. Talking to regular people was a bit difficult. There was so much grey area. Bucky was going to be a patient, but right then, in that moment, he was just another person.

"You can sit if you want," she offered, patting the spot next to her. "I feel weird, it seems like I'm making you stand."

He gingerly accepted such an offer. He sat next to her, but not too close. The respectful distance gave her comfort.

We both have our own space.

"Hey, can I say something?" he asked.

"Mhm."

"I just wanted to thank you, ya know, for coming all the way here. Steve told me about the whole situation - you and Sharon and everything. I'm just really grateful. You probably have a whole life of your own back home, but it means a lot that you came here to help out. I know it's not exactly easy."

Heartfelt. If she had to describe it in one word that's what it would be. It almost surprised her.

"Oh you don't have to thank me!" she sounded deflective. "It's my job. I'm just glad we have a chance to provide you with treatment after all the pain you've been through."

Was that too personal?

"I mean, after all this time, I think you're pretty deserving of a reprieve."

"Have you read my file?" he asked, a little quieter than before. He was staring intently at the lake in front of him.

(Y/N) rubbed the back of her neck. "Yeah, I did."

"Sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"That you had to read it. I know it's a lot."

He sounded guilty, like somehow what happened to him was his fault.

"That's alright," she said almost too quickly. "I've gone through plenty of abuse and trauma cases. To be fair, none of them are quite like yours, but I'm not in completely foreign waters here."

"Oh, I don't doubt it. I've heard you're more than highly qualified. It's just a lot of bad stuff."

"I can handle bad stuff," she replied, reassuringly. To her, it sounded more factual than reassuring. Unbeknownst to her, it gave Bucky some sort of comfort. Like he was in good hands.

Another awkward silence settled over them. Her eyes remained on the body of water in front of her; she wasn't sure what to say. Casual conversation was not her forte, and Bucky seemed rather shy himself. She felt responsible for any conversation that should take place, but to be fair, he wasn't talking either.

It was then when she subtly aimed her gaze towards him, getting a thorough impression of his features. He was, in all honesty, quite handsome. Objectively speaking of course. He was sharp features and soft edges at once, if you could consider that possible. And the bluest blue eyes she'd ever seen were luminescent in the direct sunlight. She reminded herself not to stare, and tore her line of vision away from the man next to her.

In lieu of this, she closed her eyes, leaned back on the palms of her hands, and relished in the warmth of the Wakandan sun. This lasted a few moments before she once again realized that not a word had been passed between them. She wondered what he was thinking about.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked softly.

"Hm?"

"You look pensive."

"'M just thinkin'"

"Well, that much I could tell," she snickered.

He flashed a bashful smile. "I'm just tryin' to grasp the fact that I'm actually here. Y'know, safe. Ready to be helped. It's been a while. I keep having to remind myself that it's real."

Makes sense. He probably thinks that any minute, this seemingly secure safe haven is going to be ripped out from under him. Like it was all a rouze and he'll have to return to pain and anguish.

"It's definitely real...well, last time I checked anyway. But who knows? Maybe we're in an alternate reality and any moment we'll see a woman in a red dress," she joked, trying to lighten his mood and simultaneously referencing The Matrix.

It worked. He laughed; a soft gentle chuckle, but a laugh all the same.

"Woman in a red dress?" he asked through a grin.

"Oh, you probably haven't seen The Matrix, have you?"

His face scrunched up in endearing confusion. "No...?"

She adamantly ignored when the word adorable entered her mind when she saw his expression. "It's a movie, a classic really. You'll have to see it at some point or I'll feel like an idiot for referencing it."

"Oh God," he shook his head, "I haven't seen a movie in... ages."

"I think that's a crime in and of itself. They've gotten infintely better than they were in the forties, I can promise you that."

"I got a lot to catch up on, don't I?"

"Maybe a little. But don't worry about it. I'll make you a list!"

"Man, didn't think I'd have homework," he quipped, a meek attempt at a joke.

It made her smile. There's some personality! She showed some of her own in return.

"Man, I didn't think I'd ever meet someone who doesn't like movies of all things. One of the best things ever created by mankind!"

He laughed and threw his hands up in mock surrender. "I never said that! I don't know if I deserve such slander."

What a wonderful laugh.

"Watch every movie on my list and I'll clear your name," she beamed.

He feigned annoyance. "Fine. You drive a hard bargain, Ms. (Y/L/N)."

"That's Dr. (Y/L/N), actually."

Before he could question whether or not he made a mistake, she continued. "I'm totally messing with you. (Y/N) is more than just fine. Dr. (Y/L/N) sounds too much like someone's pretending that I'm my dad anyway."

"Okay then," he smiled, "(Y/N).”

[nurloxx]

tale as old as time

summary: it’s bedtime, and kam’lu is in charge of telling the story

a/n: MAY’LU SHIPPERS COME GET Y’ALL JUICE

"What story do you think papa is going to tell this time?" Brea asked from where she sat on her mother's lap as the older Vapra diligently combed her long pale locks.

"It better not be the one where he got sun frenzy and thought a Hooyim was trying to speak to him." Seladon sighed, running a silver brush through her own hair. She was curled up on a mountain of plush velvet pillows beside her sister Tavra, who was fidgeting impatiently.

"I just hope it's not boring." she said simply.

Mayrin chuckled as she finished up, pecking Brea on the forehead and placing her back down so she could rejoin her sisters on the bed.

"I'm sure whatever your father has planned won't dissapoint." She then discreetly added under her breath. "I hope...."

"Do my ears deceive me or are there four fair gelfling maidens in dire need of a story?"

Four heads simultaneously turned in the direction of a playful voice that boomed from down the hall. The girls squealed in unison as the door swung open to reveal the form of their father, and they abandoned the bed in favor of crowding around his legs enthusiastically.

Kam'lu laughed heartily, scooping his two youngest daughters into his arms, then bending down so that his eldest could climb up on his back.

Mayrin rolled her eyes. "Love, you know they're not supposed to get too excited. It is their bedtime after all."

The Sifa captain gave her a lopsided grin. "Oh but bedtime is the most exciting time of the day, didn't you know? Especially tonights!" He dug his fingers into Tavra and Brea's sides, making them squeal and shriek with laughter.

"Papa, do you have a story for us?" Brea asked, her characteristic curious pools of gold twinkling.

"He better!" Tavra jabbed her tiny finger into her father's chest. "Otherwise I stayed awake for nothing!"

"Fear not my beauties. Tonight's story is a very special one." He gently placed them all down on the pile of cushions, claiming his spot on the biggest one. "One I think your mother will be quite familiar with."

Mayrin almost wanted to ask what Kam'lu was getting at, but the knowing look he threw over his shoulder gave her all the clarification she needed. Smiling, she stood from the vanity chair and got comfortable next to her mate. Their hands interlaced in clear view of their daughters, both not even needing to think about the action. It was practically second nature at that point.

"So, first things first. I have a question for you all." Mayrin gestured between her and Kam'lu. "Do you believe our initial meeting was love at first sight?"

Brea nodded enthusiastically, while Tavra and Seladon shared a look of doubt.

"I'd be surprised if it was..." Seladon muttered.

Mayrin tittered, putting her fingers to her lips. "You'd be correct, my dear. When I first encountered your father, we couldn't have been more different from each other. In the back of my mind I couldn't even begin to fathom how I'd be able to get along with someone so oafish, and thick skulled, and brash-"

"Really feeling the love here...." Kam'lu deflated, ears pinning to the sides of his head. He was actually pouting, and it caused his mate to let out a proper laugh.

"You didn't let me finish." She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I truly did believe you to be all those things. However, I'd be proven wrong later on. You were so much more, my love."

The smile slowly returned to Kam'lus face. He kissed her cheek, nuzzling it tenderly. "And to think, all it took was being swallowed up by a sea monster and fighting for our lives trying to escape."

"Wait, you got swallowed by a what?!" Brea exclaimed in disbelief, bouncing around in her seat.

"Sea monster?!" Tavra balked.

"How did you get out?!" Seladon placed a hand to her chest, eyes wide in shock.

The questions continued to pour in at a steady rate.

"Was it a big monster?"

"Did you fight it?!"

"Did you have to light a fire inside it's belly and have it sneeze you out?!"

All eyes in the room fell on Brea with varying levels of puzzlement.

She merely shrugged. "It was in one of my books."

Kam'lu and Mayrin bursted out laughing at that, the older Sifa having to wipe away a tear or two. Such differing personalities their daughters had, but it made them all the more lovable in their eyes.

"That is where our story begins, my young ones. You see, it was a rather dreary and stormy night. The waves had become quite restless..." Kam'lu started his tale, motioning with his hands for the girls to come in closer. They did so without question.

Despite her mate's rather.... eccentric style of storytelling, Mayrin found herself being oddly soothed by it. She studied her daughter's faces with a serene expression. Brea and Tavra seemed the most enraptured, while Seladon appeared more concerned than anything else.

A larger pale hand subtly reached out to grasp hers, and she unconsciously squeezed back.

"..... when we were suddenly face to face with Bobling King himself! Oh he was as helpful as he was fearsome!" Kam'lu made large theatric gestures with his arms, and Mayrin wasn't sure if it was solely for the girls amusement or if he genuinely remembered the King Bobling in that way.

"Pfft, he doesn't sound so scary." Tavra scoffed, crossing her arms.

"That's because he wasn't, dear." Mayrin interjected. She turned to Kam'lu and raised a brow at him. "Love, he barely reached your knee."

"I'm sorry, who is the one telling the story here?"

She pinched the tip of his ear, eliciting a slight yelp from him. "I was there too, you fool." When before the word rolled off her tongue with scorn and exasperation, now there was only fondness present in the Vapra's tone.

This time it was Seladon's turn to laugh. She doubled over on the pillow, clutching her stomach. "Father, you were scared by something so small?" Her sisters soon followed suite, and even Mayrin couldn't resist letting out a chuckle at Kam'lus expense.

The older Sifa's cheeks flared red, and he huffed indignantly. "Well, if that's how you're all going to act, then I think we should cut this story short."

He was only joking of course, but they didn't know that. At least, his daughters didn't. Only Mayrin seemed to catch on to the slight mischievous glint in his eye that told her he didn't really take it to heart.

"No!!!!" Three pairs of arms shot out and latched onto Kam'lu before he could even think about getting up.

"We're sorry Papa!"

"Yeah, really really sorry!"

"You gotta finish the story!"

He looked down at the pleading faces of his little ones, and feigned a look of pensiveness.

"Well, I suppose I can't stay mad at my beauties for long, can I?"

"No, no you can't." Mayrin smirked, playing with a lock of russet colored hair. "We all have you wrapped around our fingers. Forever."

"There's no other fate on Thra I'd rather resign myself to. Now then," He pulled his mate, along with his daughters onto his lap, much to their amusement. It was a tight fit, but they managed. "As I was saying, we had begun our treacherous journey into the belly of the beast..."

Kam'lu smoothly picked up where he had left off, progressing through the rest of the story with little to no interruptions. Though he had to pause multiple times to chuckle at Tavra's starstruck expression when the subject of the flying Zoa and the final battle aboard skekSa's ship came up.

"From that day on, I swore I'd stay by your mother's side through thick and thin. No matter what unholy terrors Thra tossed our way, I'd be right there with her." Kam'lu smiled lovingly, kissing the head of his mate, who hummed in acknowledgement.

"And not long after, we had our first daughter. Our little Seladon." Mayrin cooed, cupping her eldest's cheek and stroking it with her thumb. "Do you remember where your name comes from, dearest?"

"It was the name of a famous Vapran general, right? The one who saved her village from an avalanche?"

Mayrin nodded, tapping her nose. "That's exactly right. I sensed a very stalwart spirit when I was pregnant with you, and I wanted your name to reflect that."

"Can we hear that story next?" Brea asked, yawning.

Kam'lu chuckled. "I'm afraid we'll have to save that particular tale for another night. For now, I think it's time for my beauties to get some sleep."

A low whine of protest sounded from each girl, and Mayrin gently shushed them. "Your father's right. It's already past your bedtime, and you have a big day tomorrow."

"We do?" They all tilted their heads curiously.

Kam'lu grinned. "Yes! It'll be a nice sunny day tomorrow, and I figured what better way to spend it than to take all of you out on the ship for the afternoon."

"So the sooner you go to sleep, the sooner morning will come, and we can ready ourselves accordingly." Mayrin collected her daughters into her arms as she spoke, tucking them each into their respective beds and kissing them goodnight. Kam'lu went around to do the same, saying quiet Sifan prayers under his breath as he did so.

When they were finally laid to rest, Mayrin quietly stepped out of the room, holding the door open for her mate to join her in the hallway.

"Well, let it never be said that I didn't marry a halfway decent storyteller." She jested, elbowing Kam'lu in the side. "Better than I could have told it anyway."

"Ah, so you finally admit I'm better than you at something. Never thought I'd live to see the day." He grinned smugly.

Mayrin popped him on the shoulder. "Don't let it go to your head now. You're a better storyteller than you are a captain, let's put it that way." She ribbed him teasingly. Then she began to saunter ahead of him towards their bed chambers.

"Come, the hour is late and I could use some shut-eye myself."

Kam'lu watched her go at first, making sure her back was completely turned to him before responding.

"Right away, my All Maudra."

In one fluid motion Kam'lu came up behind Mayrin and swept her up into a bridal carry, walking her the rest of the way with a big smile on his face.

She slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter lest she wake the children.

He couldn't see it, but she was wearing a grin big enough to rival his.