#but i have no sense of timeline or age to a point of knowing what came first

[nyankochan]

Question about Fairy Tail

You know what’s one thing that’s never been clear to me? 🤔And I’ve been a die hard fan of Fairy Tail since I was a kid and read the entire main series + watched it. But just exactly how old are Natsu and Gajeel?

In the Manga, they’re the only two dragon slayers whose age is listed as unknown. And we know from the Battle of Fairy Tail Arc the two of them are at least 80+ because they were trapped in the guild with Makarov. From chapter 108 and 111.

We also eventually learn from Zeref during the Alvarez Arc that all the dragon slayers were sent 400 years into the future to defeat Acnologia. From chapter 465 of the manga.

But if that’s the case, then why in the manga is Wendy’s age listed at 12 and Sting and Rogue are listed as 19?

We also know that the three of them were the same age, but because of the 7 year gap on Tenrou Island, Wendy didn’t age. Gajeel and Natsu were like the two older brothers (how much older?) that the younger ones all looked up to. But still, it adds up with Sting and Rogue being 19. From chapter 510:

We know Natsu is definitely at least over the age of 400 due to Zeref’s age and the timeline of his backstory with the dragon’s attacking their village. But was Natsu’s age at one point stalled due to being revived? Or does he even age at all? And what about Gajeel? I haven’t caught up to 100 year quest, so I’m not sure if things are revealed later on in the series about his past before meeting Metallicana.

But then again, if all the Dragon Slayers are also from the past, then why do Sting, Rogue, & Wendy have canonical ages?

I also wonder about their pasts too before meeting their dragons. These poor children were all a bunch of orphans who grew up with their dragon parents. They actually all knew each other and grew up together but basically lost any memories of them being practically family. 🙁

Their ages have always just been a big mystery to me. My best guess is perhaps prior to Tenrou Island, Gajeel and Natsu were around 18-19 (physically) like most of the other children from Fairy Tail. Lucy, Levy and Lisanna are 17. Gray, Cana and Elfman are 18. Erza and Mirajane are 19. Laxus was a little older than everyone at 23.

If they weren’t trapped on Tenrou, then Gajeel and Natsu would maybe be around 25-26. Then Sting, Rogue, and Wendy would be 19. I guess this kinda makes sense. It’s a cute little age gap between people who were supposed to be like siblings.

So how old were they all when their dragon’s first disappear in X777?

If we take the guestimated year Lucy joined Fairy Tail, which is X784, that’s 7 years after the dragons disappeared. If at that time, Wendy, Rogue and Sting are all 12 years old, that means they were only 5 years old when their parents disappeared!?

By this guess, Natsu and Gajeel were then around 11-12 years old when their dragons disappeared, making them 6-7 years older than Wendy, Sting and Rogue. Again! This is just my guess! None of this has been actually confirmed.

Either this is a plot hole or I’m just stupid and missed something along the way. Again, I’m not caught up to 100 year quest, so maybe this gets explained later. But I think and wonder about it a lot.

[badkarma1998]

Do yall...

Do yall remember your "first memory"????

Cuz like, I have many childhood memories, I do remember a lot from being little, but fuck me if I can remember which one is my earliest?

I just keep seeing posts around the internet that mention people's "earliest memory" and I'm calling bullshit. There's no way anyone remembers what thier first memory is.

[permanentreverie]

I know changes need to be made when a story is being adapted from book to screen but that won't stop me from freaking out over every little changed detail

[unexpectederawhilesubmitting]

WARNING: DOCTOR WHO SPOILERS EXPLAINING REGENERATION SHENANIGANS

-------------------

okay so I was kind of not on board with the concept of bi-regeneration, mainly because of how it seemed like all of the Sad and the Trauma that the Doctor had undergone got kind of handwaved away? i'm all for ncuti's Doctor being sort of a fresh start/jumping on point for new viewers, but i didn't get how that could work if like, literally 40 minutes ago he was David Tennant being a sad wet puppy dog of a man

however, after rewatching it, i've realized what i think happened there, and it goes all the way back to something introduced with the 4th doctor's regeneration that was never explained: the Watcher

^this spooky guy

so, for those that don't know (or haven't seen every episode of a show that is over half a century old), the Fourth Doctor regenerates at the end of a story called Logopolis (he falls off a satellite dish, but that's not important right now). all throughout the episode, this weird figure, The Watcher, stands off in the distance, and even intervenes slightly by saving the Fourth Doctor's companion. there's not much given in the way of an explanation until the Fourth Doctor regenerates, saying "it's the end. but the moment has been prepared for..."

the watcher walks up, and gets absorbed in a super rad 1980's digital effect (never change doctor who), while his companion just gives us the not-super-helpful-for-lore statement "He was the Doctor all the time!"

then, in a crossfade, the Doctor goes from Four to weird-powder-man to Five

canonically, the Watcher is explained as a future version of the doctor that comes about in sort of a weird overlapping thing with the doctor's timeline, it's very wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey.

-------------------------

SO what does this have to do with biregeneration and satisfying character arcs/moving on from trauma?

Well, remember, Fifteen said this, about Time Lords doing rehab out of order:

so, here's the thing: Fifteen is the Doctor AFTER Fourteen (duh, I know?) But to be clear...Fourteen lives out an entire lifetime with Donna and family, gets to a ripe old age, and then, when his lifetime of healing is over, he gets yeeted back through his own timestream just to zoot himself out of David Tennant's chest.

Remember, his first words to Fourteen (after popping out of his chest) are "So good to see you! So good!", not the RTD classic "what?". He greets himself like he's almost expecting this, he then says "does anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on here?" which only makes sense if he's coming from a different point in his own timestream (remember, when two doctors interact, memory gets really weird, 10 and the War Doctor don't remember the events of Day of the Doctor until they live through them as 11).

SO TO BE CLEAR: Ncuti Gatwa is playing the Doctor AFTER he has spent years healing from his traumas. His Doctor is fine because Fourteen takes the time to rest and work on himself.

tl;dr: I didn't like biregeneration at first because I thought it looked like this:

In actuality, it looks more like this:

[princessbrunette]

⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … princess going digital! ♡

bsf!jj followed you on all of your social media accounts. well, he thought he did. ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ ౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

your instagram was adorable and demure. photo dumps and stories of your daily iced coffee in your little manicured hand. you had pinterest boards too — jj had seen you scrolling through endless pictures of clothes on his bed and asked questions. you helped him make his own account so he could find new ideas on how to customise his board. he hasn’t opened the app since, but it seemed like it made you happy so he couldn’t find it in himself to delete it off his lockscreen.

he followed you on twitter too. he knew he did because he saw your tweets all up and down his timeline when he would be scrolling late at night trying to find porn. tweets about the cashier that was rude to you, or about that one song you just can’t get out your head.

he thought he’d covered all bases with you. he liked to be in tune with everything you were doing — and maybe that was wrong for a best friend to want, but the two of you were close! it only felt right. it may also have something to do with the fact he’s head over heels for you.

you were laying on your front on his bed. contrasting so sweetly against the boyishness of his room with your cute little hello kitty shirt and denim skirt — epitome of girly girl in such an unfitting space. it made him smile, and he nearly forgot to tune into what you were saying.

you were ranting about your mother again, the woman making it her mission to constantly bring you down.

“seriously jayj, if you saw the way she spoke to me...” you mutter with a frowny little pout as your fingers tap away at the screen, assumably responding to a text.

“i have seen the way she speaks to you. the lady is a nut job, no offence.” jj leans back slightly, tossing a balled up pair of socks from his laundry in the air and catching it.

“her texts are even worse.” you huff.

“s’alright. i’ll be your mommy.” he quips as you’re distracted by pulling up the correct screen.

“jj.” you tsk before turning your phone around. “look!” you whine, and he knows he’s meant to be looking at the texts displayed infront of him. but with undiagnosed adhd, jj couldn’t help but find his focus on the notification sliding down at the top of the screen. the twitter icon, notifying someone reposted your tweet — however, it was accompanied with another username he’d never seen before. an account ran by you assumably, that he no idea about.

“huh… yeah, no yeah. she’s batshit.” jj shakes himself off as he takes mental note of the username, leaning back and hoping you don’t ask any questions knowing he didn’t read the texts at all. you seem none the wiser, continuing to complain and go about your business. that evening, it’s time for you to head home. jj squeezes you at the doorway, cups your cheek and tells you that if your mom is giving you grief, you can come right on back. it seemed to comfort the pout off your face, and you skip off.

now it’s time to sate his curiosity.

when jj gets into bed that night, he types the username into twitter. it takes a few tries to get the specific spelling right, as it had been a few hours and slipped his mind — but finally, the account filled his screen.

your age is attached to the account, yet no name. there was definitely a sense of anonymity— to the point where you hadn’t even told him about it. he considered doing the right thing and clicking off — but jj didn’t always do the right thing, and this was one of those times. the first thing he notices is how clearly you the account is. the header, the profile picture — even the font in your bio was so… you. all curlicues and girly and pink — it was undeniably his best friend.

and then he scrolls.

‘want my best friend 2 hold me down n use me so bad :(’ a tweet from 3 days ago. the blonde sits up in bed, blinking at the screen. that was him, right? eagerly, he continues his scrolling — finding endless tweets about your sexual desires, fantasies, anecdotes about jj himself. it didn’t take much longer of scrolling until he comes across a video — his face heating and crotch stiffening at the familiarity of it all. it was your bedroom, and your face was cropped out. that one pair of pink panties he occasionally caught peeks of beneath your skirt hang off the ankle of your knee high clad legs, pretty pussy on display, glistening as you roll your hips, desperately fucking a pillow.

“god… damn.” he breathes, hand coming up to rub his chest as if to attempt to still his quick-beating heart. he stuffs a tongue in his cheek, part of him wanted to be mad that you were letting strangers on the internet see you like this before he got to. it was a childish type of jealousy that made his hands sweat and the back of his neck all prickly.

a bird squawks outside his window, causing the maybank boy to jump out of his skin like he was about to be caught watching his best friend get herself off. he juggles the phone, quickly checking the screen to make sure he hadn’t accidentally liked any posts. he hadn’t, and he exhales— but with the commotion, he’d accidentally refreshed the page. the loading wheel disappears with a pop, and a new tweet displays itself from three minutes prior.

‘my bsf looks after me so good :( he shld make me feel btter by letting me cum on his fingers <3’

it would be stupid to make a move. he would be potentially destroying a friendship, and on top of that — you could be mad at him for snooping. it was kind of a betrayal of trust after all, similar to if he’d read your diary. but his dick was hard and had taken over the steering wheel that operates his brain — and like he always said, stupid things had great outcomes all the time.

so with a clammy hand, he calls you.

“whats up jayj? did i leave something at your place again?” you croak, sounding all sleepy and cute. god, he couldn’t believe he’d waited so long.

“uh… so, like — imma cut to the chase, with everything goin’ on at your place, i don’t love the idea of you stayin’ there tonight. i’m comin’ to get you. you’re stayin’ here.” he makes up a quick excuse and feels kind of bad about it. his own desire toward you being masked as genuine concern for a friend. he expects some questioning, maybe even some resistance— but you perk up instantly.

“okay!”

and that’s exactly how you end up cradled in his lap with the rings at his knuckles tickling your opening from how deep in your greedy, drooling pussy they were.

“hmm— mm—huh—” you’re whining, all incoherent and fucked out with your cheek smushed against him, only two orgasms in. jj is grinning ear to ear, like some kind of sicko — never in his life thinking you’d want him like this. he almost wished he’d kept up the act for longer, preyed on your twitter account for longer to see what else you’d say, but he couldn’t help himself. he’d wanted you since you met in high school, and he was hungry.

“what’d i tell ya about not asking for things? could’ve just told me dude, i literally wanted this more than you.” he thinks out loud and you groan, pulling yourself up face to face with the handsome blonde.

“don’t call me dude when your fingers are n’side me!” you slur, lip all puffy and pouted. he smirks, unable to stop himself from finding amusement in your neediness and tilts his head a little so he was breathing right into your mouth.

“i’m sorry that’s my bad. baby.” he corrects himself, before pressing his lips to yours. that was much better.

[beanpodz]

There were so many things I liked in S4 of TUA but Jesus Christ I kind of hated so much.

The end felt so rushed (probably due to less episodes). They didn’t expand enough on any resentment created by Alison and it seemed to be forgiven fairly quickly. Five not being affected by being back in the apocalypse even though season 1 him seemed extremely traumatized by it.

Speaking of five: WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ALL ABOUT!? They introduced the whole relationship so far into the final season. It had no time to breath or feel organic to the characters. It seemed like everything about Five and Lila’s storylines this season was leading up to this but was this romance really something needed in a show about the family itself? Why do a plot line that created friction between them like that? Diego was literally mad at Five in his final moments! WTF! Also you’re trying to tell me five, THE SAME GUY WHOSE WHOLE LIFE REVOLVED AROUND GETTING BACK TO HIS FAMILY, would not do everything in his power to get back to them? He spent 40 YEARS trying to get back. I could rant on this for hours. They really said Aidens of age now let’s have him make out with someone.

Ray not being there was insane. Five has never trusted an employer in his life but sure he didn’t know anything about the CIA being filled with cult members I guess. The introduction of Jennifer I understand was needed for plot reasons but it’s another forced romance and didn’t allow for enough cool fight scenes (this point is personal lol), and the ending scene was cute but it made no sense timeline wise for all of these people to just be chilling in the same year together.

It didn’t leave me satisfied. It left a pit in my stomach which I usually like in a show but this time it wasn’t earned. I loved the siblings bonding. I loved Dad Diego. I loved Angsty Claire. I liked Jean and Gene. I loved the five mind deli. I loved “little Greek guy” and Luther being a hot spaceman dancer. But God so much of this series was lacking and I wish it could have left us with something more than it did. But IDK it’s 6 in the morning and I just binged it. Maybe I’m just tired.

[chahnniesroom]

cross my heart

pairing: bang chan & female reader, hwang hyunjin & female reader

summary: chan has quickly become one of your closest friends at university. too bad his girlfriend, hayoon, has him wrapped around her little finger and she's determined to make your life miserable. hyunjin is just enjoying watching the drama unfold.

word count: 4.0k

tags/warnings: angst!!! hurt and maybe some comfort?, infidelity (not between the reader or chan/hyunjin), arguing, the relationships with the reader are more like friendships than dating (please let me know if you think there should be more tags/warnings)

a/n: totally thought this was going to be a short fic (like less than 1k words) but it blossomed into something more. i wanted to try something different with this fic but not sure if i pulled it off lol please be kind if you comment! i also did not to bother with honourifics so... you can pretend that chan, hyunjin, and y/n are all the same age 😅

read it on ao3 | masterlist

It's almost funny how quickly you and Chan become friends. 

You hadn't really been looking forward to taking a technical writing class, but it's one of the requirements to get your degree and at least the lecture is large enough that you won't have to do any in-class participation. When the professor announces that one of the very first assignments is going to be completed in random pairs, you're instantly nervous. It’s only after meeting Chan, who is easygoing yet studious, that you feel better.

Although the group assignment only takes a couple weeks to finish, you find yourself hanging out more and more. Chan has a natural way of writing, he's intelligent and efficient with his wording without sacrificing clarity. While you can eventually write something that’s fairly clear and concise, it takes a lot of effort and a lot of time so you're grateful to be working with Chan who doesn't struggle with tight timelines like you do.

The two of you grow close together, especially once you realise that you have a similar sense of humour and taste in music. It doesn't take long before technical writing is your favourite class. Chan always saves you a seat beside him, even though he has quite a few friends that are also taking this course. You’re not used to it at first, but you grow comfortable with the way that he leans over to make quips about whatever the professor is saying or pointing out if someone in the lecture hall is falling asleep. You sometimes bring him snacks and in exchange he brings you a drink.

The more you learn about Chan, the more you're convinced that he's perfect.

Well, apart from one thing.

The worst thing about Chan is his girlfriend. Jung Hayoon absolutely hates you and, behind Chan's back, never fails to make sure you know it too. While the two of you have never shared any courses, she regularly meets Chan after class is over and you've been invited to join them and some other friends for a meal or to study so you've interacted with her more than you want to.

You’re not quite sure what you've done to earn Hayoon's ire, but you can only guess that it's your blossoming friendship with Chan as she’s never seemed to care about you before you met him. She takes every opportunity to make backhanded compliments, pointed comments about how much or what you're eating, or loudly exclaiming when you have something stuck in your teeth. You try not to let it get to you, but you're always been a bit too sensitive.

You start declining offers to hang out with Chan and the rest of his friends after class, trying to ignore Chan's disappointment and Hayoon's smug smile every time that you make excuses.

Of course, she's sickly sweet around Chan, constantly hanging off his arm, batting her eyes at him, and trying to hold his attention. You can't really stand her obviously fake behaviour, but she makes Chan happy so you don't say anything negative about her when Chan's around.

You aren’t the type to keep up with school gossip, but even you know that Hayoon's track record is far from pristine. In fact, you were surprised to hear that someone as genuine and kind as Chan was in a relationship with someone like Hayoon.

—

The library isn't your favourite place to study, but partway through midterm season you're desperate for a change in scenery. You spend the better part of the day completing practice exams for the course you're the most worried about until you finally feel more confident. Satisfied with your progress and excited at the prospect of eating a proper meal rather than the snacks that have kept you going so far, you quickly pack up.

There aren't too many people in the library since it’s so close to the weekend, a lot of students have either finished all of their exams for the week or just given up studying. Maybe that's why your attention seems so drawn to the couple that you pass on the way to the door.

You don't mean to do anything other than quickly glance at them, but the familiarity of the girl catches your eye. The carefully styled hair and slim figure is a common combination to see at your university, but after weeks of trying to avoid her, there’s no mistaking Jung Hayoon.

And it's not Chan that she’s currently kissing.

You stumble away from them, but not before Hayoon looks up and spots you. Instead of panicking or stopping, she continues making out with the boy, maintaining eye contact with you. She even has the audacity to wink. You stare at her for a second, stunned, then bolt out of the building.

You're so flustered that you don't know what to do or where to go. You end up walking to the nearest bench and sitting down heavily in it.

You knew that you didn't like Hayoon, that she was two-faced and had likely cheated on past partners, but you hadn't expected to ever catch her in the act, especially while she was dating Chan. You couldn't fathom why anybody would want anything else when they had him and you had never been able to understand cheating in the first place.

You have to tell Chan, you decide. As much as you hate difficult conversations and it kills you to be the bringer of bad news, you know that you'd never be able to sleep at night if you tried to hide this from him. If you were in his position, you would prefer to know as soon as possible.

You call him as you start heading in the direction of his dorm.

“Hey,” Chan picks up after only a few rings. “Is everything okay? You don't usually call.”

“Uhm-” You have no clue what to say, you didn't think this through enough before dialling. “Where are you? I- Can I come talk to you?”

“Y/n? What's wrong?” Chan's instantly concerned.

“Nothing, I just- I really need to talk to someone right now,” you say quickly. “I'm fine, I mean.”

“Okay. I'm at home right now, but I can come meet you if you need? Where are you?”

“Don't worry about it, I'll head over, if that's okay.”

“Sure,” Chan says, sounding extremely worried. “Be safe, Y/n. I'll see you soon.”

After you hang up, you don't quite run to Chan's place, but you're out of breath and sweaty by the time you make it. You take a moment to compose yourself before requesting access into the building, but you know you still look frazzled. Chan buzzes you in immediately and he’s waiting in the hallway when you step out of the elevator. He guides you into his room, but only after checking you over and making sure that you're physically okay.

“Y/n, you're scaring me,” he says after leading both of you to sit down at his tiny kitchen table. “Tell me what's got you so worked up.”

“Do you know where Hayoon is today?” you ask, probably sounding insane. Chan pauses for a moment, brow furrowed before he responds.

“I know that she has a final tomorrow, so I assume that she's studying. Why, what's up?”

“She didn't say where or who she was going to be with today?”

“No, but it's not like I'm tracking her all the time. She's her own person, she's not obligated to constantly update me.”

“I saw her at the library.”

“Okay,” Chan says slowly.

“She was with someone else, a guy.”

“Why are you telling me this, Y/n?” Chan asks, starting to sound annoyed. His tone catches you off guard.  “This is why you called me, why you ran over to my place? If you think I'm that controlling-”

“They were kissing,” you interrupt. “She’s cheating on you, Chan.”

“Who was the guy?”

“I- I didn't see him well, his back was towards me so I couldn't recognize him,” you falter.

“Did you take a picture? Was there anyone else around?”

“No- but, I-”

“So I'm just supposed to believe you,” he says flatly.

“What? Why would I make this up?”

“I know that, for some reason, you don’t like Hayoon.” Chan's usually friendly voice is cold and his face is stony. “I can live with that. I mean, of course it would be nice if you were at least civil to her. But at the end of the day, you don’t have to, she’s my girlfriend and not yours.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, “but how would lying about this benefit me at all?”

“She warned me about this, you know. She said you were jealous. Of her. Of us. That you would do something to try and break us up.” Chan laughs, but the sound is empty. “I always defended you, which she hated. I don't know how many times I told her that you weren't like that, that there was nothing going on between us.”

“Well I can assure you that I’m not jealous. That I’m not trying to break you two up.”

“I know that there’s… chemistry between us,” Chan acknowledges. “I don't have that many close female friends and I didn't before I started dating Hayoon either, but I know that I like your company and that you're easy to talk to. But that's all. It's fine if you're interested in me, you can’t help your feelings, but accusing my girlfriend of cheating? That’s sick, Y/n.”

“Are you kidding me? There is nothing going on between us.” you say incredulously. “Listen Chan, I’m saying this, I'm here as a friend. You think I'm lying? You think I want to hurt you?”

“I think that maybe Hayoon had a point when she said you wouldn't be satisfied with just being friends.”

“That's what you think of me?” you ask, feeling hurt. “Even if I was interested, I wouldn't do that. I respect you as a friend, I respect you as a person, and I respect your relationship whether I like your partner or not. But if that’s how you see me, I’m not sure that we were ever really friends. I would never try to sabotage you or anybody that's happily in a relationship.” Chan's face drops at your words.

“Y/n-” he starts to say, but you've had enough of this conversation.

“Look- I came here because I knew I would feel terrible and guilty if I didn't, but I can't convince you of something you don't want to believe.” You shake your head and walk towards the door.

Chan doesn't try to stop you as you leave.

 —

The next day you get to class 15 minutes before it’s supposed to start. You're exhausted, have your eyes swollen from crying when you got back home last night, and most of all, feel hurt. You had been a little worried about how Chan would react to what you had to tell him, but you never expected that he would dismiss you without a thought. It's hard to reconcile with the upbeat and kind seatmate that you're used to.

Instead of your usual seat near the middle of the classroom, you opt for one off to the side that’s often emptier, not wanting to have to talk to or even see Chan. You pull up an assignment that you’ve been procrastinating working on and manage to ignore the rest of your classmates as they filter into the lecture hall. It’s only when someone slides into the seat right next to you that you look up, surprised anybody would approach you when you’re clearly being unsociable and look awful.

“Hyunjin.” You’re too shocked to even say hello.

“That’s my name,” Hyunjin replies, looking unimpressed by your greeting as he pulls out his laptop. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Sorry, good morning. You don’t usually sit with me.” You can’t help but point out the obvious. 

In fact, Hyunjin usually doesn't sit with anyone. He's popular, it'd be hard not to be when you look as good as he does, but it's in a different way than Chan. While Chan seems to know practically everybody on campus, Hyunjin is almost untouchable.

While there are hoards of girls and guys that would love to have even a sliver of his attention, Hyunjin has a small circle of friends and is more interested in escaping the lecture hall to paint or dance than socialise. The only reason that you know him is because one of your closest childhood friends, Minho, is on the same dance crew as him and the three of you sometimes hang out. You wouldn't say that Hyunjin is more than an acquaintance though, he still intimidates you enough that you never would have tried to approach him first.

“And you don’t usually sit over here.” Hyunjin pretends to stretch and turns to look at your usual spot. “Avoiding someone?”

“Maybe.” You blush, embarrassed to be so easily seen through. “Is it that noticeable?”

“Nah, I just figured it was a matter of time before Hayoon got under your skin enough. I'm actually impressed you lasted this long, she really has it out for you.” While Hyunjin is surprisingly perceptive, you've also spent a fair bit of time ranting about Hayoon to Minho, and as a result, Hyunjin is kept up to speed on everything that Hayoon has done to antagonise you. You never realised that he actually paid enough attention to remember or that he agreed that Hayoon treated you like dirt.

“Actually, she’s not the one that I don’t want to talk to. Well, I never want to talk to her, but I’m not avoiding her.”

“No way,” Hyunjin crowds into your personal space, eyebrows raised dramatically. “Chan?”

You’ve had a pit in your stomach since last night’s argument and your mouth dries up at the thought of being so vulnerable, but something about the way that Hyunjin's eyes have widened to the size of dinner plates and his mouth has formed a little shocked ‘o’ is so disarming. 

“We had a disagreement last night,” you admit.

“Hayoon cheated?” he guesses.

Now it's your turn for your mouth to drop open in shock.

“Don't say it so loud,” you hiss. “How did you know?”

“Well, as much as I usually like to give people the benefit of the doubt, especially for something this serious…” Hyunjin grimaces slightly. “I’ve been kind of expecting it. Hasn't she done the same on her past three or four boyfriends?”

“Oof, that bad? I've heard some things, but never really knew for sure.”

“At least,” Hyunjin confirms. “Honestly, I'd be more shocked if she didn't cheat at this point. I'm guessing Chan didn't take it so well if you're upset with him.”

“He's loyal to a fault, literally!” you complain. “In his eyes, Hayoon can’t do anything wrong, he's able to explain away everything she does. He didn’t believe that it was her that I saw.”

“So what are you going to do?” Hyunjin asks curiously.

“Nothing,” you say sullenly. “As much as I'd like to shake some sense into him, he's an adult. He can make his own decisions and if he wants to live in denial, that's up to him.”

“You're a good friend.” Hyunjin reaches out tentatively and after an awkward second, pats your shoulder. “Not everyone would be brave enough to have that kind of difficult conversation. Chan may be stubborn right now, but he'll appreciate it later.”

“Well based on yesterday, I don't think I'm his friend at all,” you huff. “Anyway, if it's okay with you, I don't think that I will make it through the rest of the term if I have to sit over there.”

“Be my guest.” Hyunjin grins and the sight of it makes the lecture a bit easier to sit through.

—

You don’t talk to Chan for the rest of the term. While you stopped outright avoiding him, you’re pretty sure that he’s purposely steering clear of you. Instead, you continue to sit with Hyunjin and pretend that Chan doesn’t exist.

It feels silly that you miss him or that you can’t seem to get over how things ended between the two of you. You had only been friends for two months, you shouldn’t be so hurt every time he purposely turns away from you or when his eyes seem to slide over you like you’re not there.

Hyunjin basically becomes your part-time therapist. Most of the time, it’s enough that he keeps you distracted. He shares all the latest campus gossip with you, allows you to work while he paints, and invites you to hang out with Minho and the rest of their dance crew more than a few times. On the rare occasion when you’re feeling more fragile than usual, he would be willing to spend an evening at your place and listen to you wallow.

“It’s fair that you’re still upset,” he had comforted you once. You had run into Hayoon in the bathroom that afternoon and she had gloated about how nothing and nobody would be able to break her and Chan apart. It had made you feel sick to the stomach. “There was never any resolution. Chan didn’t believe you, doesn’t believe you, even though you went to him with good intentions and it’s reasonable that you would feel hurt or frustrated.”

“I feel so stupid,” you had sniffled. “It’s not even like it was a break up. We were just friends.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier, you’re still missing someone who used to be in your life. It’ll get easier next term when you don’t share a class, I promise.” Somehow, that actually had made you feel better.

“Thanks, Hyunjin,” you had said with a watery smile.

The two of you work out well together, not just because you enjoy each other’s presence, but also because there’s no expectations or pressure. Hyunjin has slowly started to share with you stories about his previous relationships, how he’s hesitant to start dating again after having his heart broken so many times. Even though there are rumours swirling about the two of you, you know that neither of you are ready for it yet and that’s partly why it's so easy to hang out with him.

Tonight, the two of you are just hanging out in his art studio. You're mindlessly scrolling on your phone, you’ve just finished the exam that you've been dreading the most and don't have the brain capacity to even think about school. You know that Hyunjin is doing the same, you can see it out of the corner of your eye, but he's trying to pretend that he's working since his painting is due the next day.

He drops all pretences when he gasps loudly at something that he sees on his phone.

“Y/n,” he says gravely.

“What?” you ask, only slightly curious. By now, you've gotten used to the fact that Hyunjin would react the same way to seeing a cute puppy video as he would finding out about some terrible news.

“A friend just texted me,” he says, still in shock.

“Okay? What did they say?”

Hyunjin looks up at you for a moment, down at his phone, then back up at you.

“ChanandHayoonbrokeup,” he says in a rush, before wincing, clearly afraid of what your reaction is going to be.

“What?” You can't believe your ears.

“Chan and Hayoon, apparently they broke up this afternoon. Someone heard them shouting at each other.”

You put down your pencil slowly, not sure what to think.

“Do you know why?”

“Someone said that they heard that yesterday, Heeyeon and Yikyung broke up because Yikyung cheated on her. I think it must be related,” Hyunjin says quietly.

“Oh.”

“I think there's pictures or a video out there, I haven't seen anything yet though,” Hyunjin continues on, starting to get excited while typing away on his phone. 

“Oh,” you say again, at a loss for actual words.

“Right before the holidays too, that's so-” Hyunjin cuts himself off when he looks up and sees you frozen in place. “Y/n, are you okay? Sorry, I'm sure it's a lot to process-”

“No, it's fine.” You force a smile. “I just- I think I have to go home now.”

“Y/n-”

“Really, it's okay. I just forgot that I have something to do. At home. Sorry.”

Hyunjin stares at you with eyes filled with something akin to pity, but doesn't say anything else. You try to ignore it as you hurriedly grab your things and leave.

—

A few days later you're packing up your bags in preparation to go home for the winter break when you hear a knock at your door. You weren't expecting anybody, but there's a few friends that you have that like to show up unannounced. 

You're not prepared to open the door and find Chan standing behind it.

He looks terrible. He's wearing a huge hoodie and his hair is tucked away behind a beanie, but nothing can hide the way that his eyes are swollen and his skin is lacking its usual colour. You can only guess that he hasn't been able to eat or sleep much judging from the gauntness of his face and dark circles.

“Chan,” you say carefully. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm sorry,” he says with a hoarse voice. “I was wrong.”

“Ah, Hayoon.”

“You heard?” he asks, face crumpling a little at the mention of his ex.

“It's-” You pause for a moment, trying to figure out how to put it delicately. "Someone mentioned it to me.”

“You must hate me.” Chan laughs humourlessly. “I know that I do. I was such a fool for not trusting you. I just didn't want to believe that she would do that to me. Stupid, I know. I'm really sorry that I said all those things to you, that I avoided you as if that would change the truth.”

For months, you've been waiting, hoping that Chan would come back to you and apologise. But actually hearing it isn't as satisfying as you thought. In fact, you don't really feel anything at all.

“I want to make it up to you,” Chan says earnestly. “Are you free? We can go for a meal and catch up. I missed you.”

“Uhm,” you say, not quite sure how to respond. You don't want to say yes, but you're scared to lose this opportunity.

“Actually, she's busy,” Hyunjin says. He steps out from behind Chan and wraps an arm around your waist possessively, nudging you behind him in the process. “I think it would be best if you leave.”

Normally you hate it when other people talk for you, but right now you're grateful that Hyunjin appeared. You're not even sure why he's here, although you mentioned that this was your last day on campus, the two of you didn't have plans to hang out.

“Oh.” Chan falters. “Are you two… together?”

“And if we are?” Hyunjin asks challengingly. You've never seen him this defensive before. “Frankly, it's none of your business. I'm tired of listening to your half-hearted apologies that are months too late and I'm pretty sure that Y/n isn't interested in them either.”

“Y/n?” Chan pleads.

“Hyunjin's right, I think that you should go,” you say from where you're still hidden behind Hyunjin. You're glad that you don't have to look him in the eyes. “I can't- I'm heading home today. I have to pack before my train leaves this afternoon.”

“Right,” Chan says thickly. “Sorry. I- I'm sorry, Y/n.”

You lean into Hyunjin's back for support, squeezing your eyes shut as you hear Chan's footsteps trail away. You don't open them for a long time, even when you feel Hyunjin turn around and wrap his arms around you. Instead, you just focus on the steady thump of Hyunjin's heartbeat and try to remember how to breathe.

read it on ao3 | masterlist

[inkspiredwriting]

Double Trouble: Five vs. Five

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

The Umbrella Academy mansion was unusually quiet, save for the soft hum of activity coming from the living room. Five Hargreeves, his wife Y/N, and his brother Luther were sitting on the couch, enjoying a rare moment of peace.

"Are you sure you don't want to join us for dinner?" Y/N asked, looking at Five with a warm smile.

"I'll pass," Five said, sipping his coffee. "You know how I feel about sitting through long meals."

Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately. "You're impossible."

Just then, a bright flash of light filled the room, followed by the unmistakable sound of temporal displacement. When the light faded, an older version of Five stood in the middle of the room, looking slightly disoriented.

"Well, this is unexpected," Old Five said, straightening his tie. "Hello, Luther. Hello, Y/N." His gaze lingered on Y/N, and his eyes widened in disbelief. "Wait a minute—you're married to him?" He pointed at his younger self.

"Yes, we are," Y/N said, exchanging a puzzled glance with Young Five. "Who are you?"

"I'm Five," Old Five said with a smirk. "But from a different timeline."

Luther stood up, towering over both versions of Five. "So, what brings you here, old man?"

Old Five ignored the question, his attention still fixed on Y/N. "I must say, I never imagined I'd end up with someone like you, Y/N. You have excellent taste." He stepped closer to her, his smirk widening. "Tell me, what do you see in my younger self?"

Young Five narrowed his eyes, standing up to face his older counterpart. "Watch it, old man. She's my wife."

Old Five chuckled, clearly enjoying the tension. "Relax, kid. I'm just curious. Besides, it looks like I've still got it." He winked at Y/N, who looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"Don't call me 'kid,'" Young Five snapped, his fists clenching at his sides. "And stop flirting with my wife."

Luther, sensing a potential fight, stepped between the two Fives. "Alright, let's all calm down. We don't need a Hargreeves showdown right now."

Old Five laughed, but there was a hint of irritation in his eyes. "Fine, fine. I'll back off. But it's interesting to see how things turned out in this timeline."

Y/N, trying to ease the tension, placed a hand on Young Five's arm. "It's okay, Five. He's just being... well, you."

Young Five took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Yeah, well, I don't like it."

Old Five raised an eyebrow. "Jealous, are we? That's new."

Luther rolled his eyes. "Enough, both of you. Why are you here, Old Five?"

Old Five shrugged. "Curiosity, mostly. Wanted to see how things turned out for me in this timeline. And I must say, I'm impressed." He glanced at Y/N again, his expression softening slightly. "You got lucky, kid."

Young Five scowled. "Don't call me 'kid.' And yes, I did get lucky. Now, if you don't have any pressing business here, I'd appreciate it if you left."

Old Five chuckled. "Alright, alright. I'll go. But just remember, don't take what you have for granted."

With another bright flash of light, Old Five disappeared, leaving Young Five, Y/N, and Luther standing in the living room.

"Well, that was awkward," Luther said, scratching his head.

Y/N turned to Young Five, wrapping her arms around him. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Five said, though his jaw was still clenched. "I just didn't expect to meet my older self today. And I certainly didn't expect him to hit on you."

Y/N laughed softly. "Well, I only have eyes for you, Five. No matter what timeline you're from."

Five's expression softened, and he kissed her forehead. "I know. And I love you for it."

Luther, trying to lighten the mood, clapped Five on the back. "Hey, at least now you know you'll age well."

Five rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, I guess so."

As they settled back on the couch, the tension slowly faded, leaving behind a strange sense of camaraderie. They had faced yet another bizarre situation, and once again, they had come out stronger together.

[stylespresleyhearted]

THE MAJOR’S WIFE

warnings: mentions of miscarriage, adultery, nsfw, marital problems, oral (m! receiving), spanking, being turned on even when your brain isn’t in it, bucky in 1x04, bucky married pre-war, slight age gap bc reader can come off slightly immature (i think?) angst, historical inaccuracies, new mediocre writer be nice

summary: John Egan gets to know his wife again

word count: 9.7k

notes: i’m not sure where this came from i wrote it all today and got no part of my research paper done. there’s really no point to it and also irl john egan was actually really close to his mother so i emphasized that here. he wrote to her so much. no disrespect to any of the real people, this is based on the show/show timeline as well.

Lila gets the call on the 2nd of October and her dreams come true.

Not entirely, no. The real dream would be having him home safe and the tragic war being over but she knows how fortunate she is to have the next best thing happen. Her husband’s been granted a few days leave and Colonel Harding believed it would do Major Egan some good to have his sweet, young wife join him during those days overseas. For the good of John’s mental health the Colonel or the President - or whoever was in charge, Lila really had no idea - had agreed to pay for her ticket and their hotel. There was only one thing they asked for in return and although it wasn’t explicitly said, Lila caught their drift: sort your husband out.

Lila knows it would do her no good to sit and wonder how horribly John must be doing in order for them to declare an all expenses paid trip for his spouse. All she does is worry for him anyhow so she forces herself to focus on the one good thing of the entire ordeal - she’s going to see her man.

There’d been letters, although not as many as she liked and she tried not to let it show how it hurt as every other wife received more than one letter at a time. Her John wasn’t the sort, she knew that when she married him. He was the kind of person who needed endless skies and land to maintain his sense of stability. Having him cooped up would do him no good and she partly wondered how much of what he was struggling with was the trauma he witnessed in the air and how much of it was feeling caged on base. At least his plane, good ol’ Mugwump (he wrote about her quite often) offered him the opportunity to head anywhere he wanted.

The only person he wrote consistently and readily to was his mother. It was rare if a week went by and she received no letter. During these instances it was more times than not an issue with the postal service.

Be that as it may, Lila knew who she married and it made her love him no less so she tried not to let it get to her. His mother was a saint. Firm and strong and loving all the same. Lila would have never survived sending John off if his mother wasn’t who and how she was. She held Lila at night when her cries woke her and she let Lila sleep in his old childhood bed. She kept food on their table and ensured everyone got their work done through the worry.

When John first left and Lila was sick to her stomach and vomiting multiple times of the day it was his mother who consoled her through the night when her sheets turned a crimson red and any ideals of having their baby through the war was lost.

Frances Egan was the glue holding them together. All of them, even her son who was an entire ocean way - so no. Lila would not be angry that she was John’s preferred pen-pal.

“You fix him right up,” Mama Egan had said in lieu of goodbye when leaving her at the airport, “you give him the loving he needs as his wife and the smacks he needs from me to get on the straight and narrow before sending him off to continue saving the world. You do it for him, not for any of them war bastards. You hear me?”

All Lila could do was nod. Dropping her bags on the floor and clutching her pseudo mother tightly. She was excited as she was frightened.

They had only gotten two months together before he had been pulled away. She didn’t want to complain, loads of women had gotten less time at all while others had only ever been left with the promise.

But her two months as Mrs. Egan? They’d been a dream. Her man was a romancer. He hadn’t hesitated in introducing her as the newly (and younger) Mrs. Egan, always resulting in an arm slap from his mother, he held open doors and he never stopped courting her; however she thinks the best times were when he was teaching her how to act married.

In their bed, at a home he had spent a year building for them. Using any extra pennies he had to pay off younger boys to help him hurry it along. Giving her the wrap-around porch she had always envisioned.

He showed her how to kiss. How to undress him. He had laid her underneath him, using his large frame to cover her completely, protecting her from the cold as he threw the sheets off them and making her feel tiny compared to him. She had never felt safer.

It had hurt the first time but he had held her through it. Never allowing any inches of space between their bodies; as if telling her they were in it together. She’d always known he was large, everything about him was large in general, but she never thought how much it would hurt to have all of him fit inside her. Lila hadn't wanted to disappoint him so she tried to muffle her tears and whimpers but he had swallowed her cries and gone slow, soft.

“If this is it, it’ll be enough,” he had promised, only about half way inside her and wiping away her tears with his thumbs. As a thank you she had taken that calloused thumb into her mouth and sucked. He allowed her; hiding his face in her neck and pressing wet kisses along there.

And for the first few times that had been it. She couldn’t take all of him and his thrusts couldn’t get too deep so he would only slip inside until her tight hole resisted and pulsed and he’d hump against that spot until reaching his pleasure.

“Do other girls take all of it?” She had asked a couple days later, trying to wrap her head around it.

She was no idiot. John Egan was no virgin.

“Yes.” Lila could always count on him to be honest. At least there was that. Meanwhile she couldn’t even fully pleasure him. She was failing as a wife. “Hey,” he lay facing her and she lay on her back. He tapped her cheek until she turned her face. “You’re my wife. That’s what makes this feel better.”

And she had beamed at his reassurance even though she didn’t feel much better. She knew John would never push her, and he couldn’t stand to see her cry, so if she ever wanted to learn to be a good wife she would have to take it upon herself.

So that’s what she did.

He was always on top and she was always on her back. That’s the first thing she had to change. From her understanding of it, from her talks with friends that always ended in giggles and blushing cheeks and from what she learned from John, it could be done in many different ways.

“I prefer to be in charge,” her school friend, Linda, had admitted to her. “Not like that -” she clarified, cheeks pink, “Just - if I’m gonna take it, I’d rather do it at my pace. Be on top. Some husbands are good like that. They’ll allow it.”

And knowing her husband wasn’t just good, he was great, she knew he would hold no qualms about it. The next time they lay in bed kissing it was easy to turn him over and straddle him. Move her wetness against his belly to let him know there was still more she just needed him to accept it.

Except he thought she was asking him to do it so he flipped her on her back again. And without breaking their kiss, she turned him over again.

It was more like they were wrestling.

Lila pulls away from his mouth, reluctantly, noticing his lips were wet and red and swollen and wondering if hers were much the same. They had been kissing for so long her mouth felt raw.

She loved it.

Straddling him, she reached behind her, feeling him standing straight and hard against her backside in between her cheeks. Sticky.

He gasped, bucking into her fist with a loud, guttural groan. It was so manly she rocked against his stomach again in need.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunted, “what’re you doing?”

“I want to try it like this,” she breathed, leaning over to whisper in his mouth, her tiny hand still wrapped around him and lining her up to her hole. “I want it all.” Lila clarified.

And John allowed it, like she knew he would. Let her take control and go at her pace. Let her swivel her hips on the way down to help with the tightness of being stretched so wide and thick.

Nothing but curses and promises of love leaving his lips. Gasping mine, mine, mine and my perfect fucking wife and I’m gonna fuck you forever.

He felt large inside of her, like if she was being split in two but it felt so good as the tip of him repeatedly hit a spongy part inside that had her coming with no contact to her clit for the first time.

She was beautiful, red splotches appearing on her body from the heat of their love-making, her hair tangled in his fists, her mouth falling open as she threw her head back - all of it was too much. He was flipping her over and pounding into her trying to chase his peak and a second one from her, their headboard banging against the wall in rhythm with his thrusts.

Things changed from then on. Sexually, that is. Becoming aware of how badly she needed to feel like she was pleasing him, John was not above using it against her. Like letting him lick at her.

“Good wives allow their husbands everything,” he would say, lips wide in a smile and eyes bright at the prospect of getting his way but Lila always knew the choice was really hers. He would respect what she wanted.

He was just too damn addicting. She couldn’t stand to tell him no.

His favorite times were when she allowed him to sit her over his face and let him feast. It drowned the outside world for him and he kept at it even after she had reached multiple orgasms and was pulling on his hair and the only thing keeping her up was his forearms locking around her thighs.

Her favorite was when he allowed her to taste him at the same time he was licking her. It was a tie between those times and when he held her down until all of him was in her mouth and she was spluttering, choking, gagging. Knowing she made a filthy vision and he adored it did something to her.

Now she was in London, closer to him than she had been in years, and all their intimacies were within reach. She could almost taste him, feel him petting back her hair and settling a hand at the low of her back. She still remembers the smell of his after shave and sweat, how he’d come into the kitchen asking for some of her homemade lemonade to help with the heat.

Jack Kidd was tasked with picking up Mrs. Egan from the airport and having her arrive at base with him. She remembers meeting him a couple of times before John shipped out early. Originally she was meant to wait for John at their hotel but there had been an issue when planning her flight and she arrived sooner than intended.

“Ma’am,” he greeted, placing a friendly kiss on her cheeks and taking her bags from her. “Bucky’s gonna be happy as hell to see your face.”

The tone in his voice - relief? alleviation? - had some of her happy wife's facade crumbling. How badly was her Johnny hurting that everyone was looking at her at his only chance to remain sane or alive?

Stop it. Maybe everyone’s just aware Johnny misses you. You’re his wife.

“Not as happy as me, I wager,” she returned with a smile. “I’m glad to see you’re doing okay, Jack. Glad to see you still kicking.”

His shrug didn’t soothe her worry but she saw him try to mask it with a smile.

“All we boys can do is pray.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder, gathering his attention. “You boys have got the prayers of our entire country protecting you.”

Jack simply nodded in response.

For the most part the ride to base was quiet. Her bags would be kept in the trunk until her and John were ready to drive out to London in a couple of hours and until then, she’d be his surprise at the officer’s club. Silver Wings, Jack called it. Where all the boys gathered and had drinks and celebrated accomplishments. And where some chose to mourn, too.

Her stomach was turning as she neared the hut, following Jack’s footsteps. There was so much that could go wrong and although this was meant to be a surprise, the U.S Army showing their gratitude towards a brave Major, she suddenly wished she would have called John and told him. She wished he knew so that she wouldn’t have to walk in feeling alone and unwanted.

Not that Lila thought John would turn her away, she simply wanted to have him hold her hand as she walked through the threshold.

“Stick close by,” Jack murmured, being respectful of where he touched her before deciding to lead her by her shoulder. “It gets crowded but I’ll take ya to him.”

As she walked through different groups, she felt the offending eyes of men and women alike. Wondering who she was. With a pang in her heart she realized she had met John’s squadrons before but all these crews were new. The boys she met, most of them at least from what she could tell, hadn’t made it. John never wrote about who passed away (except to inform her of Curt) ; most of their letters were him expressing his love and how he missed her so and asking what she got up to.

Having walked around the roundabout bar in the center of the room, her stomach in knots and fingers tangled in front of her - she caught sight of her husband smack middle in the dance floor. Pressed against a beautiful brunette.

Lila caught sight of him before even Jack did. That’s how connected she was to her husband. Jack whistled from beside her to gain Gale’s attention who was resting against the bar holding his signature ginger ale, also watching John Egan chat up the woman he was swaying with with something like disapproval in his eyes.

His large hands were occupying most of the space of her waist, keeping her body tethered to his as she laughed.

“Lila,” he gasped, eyes wide. He was smart enough to not turn and look at his buddy. To act as if nothing was amiss and she expected nothing less from Gale Cleven, “damn it all to hell. You’re a sight for sore eyes, Mrs. Egan.”

Because he was close to John, he didn’t hesitate in wrapping her up in a tight hug and pressing a kiss to her tinted cheeks. He knew John wouldn’t mind.

When he pulled back she patted his chubby cheek in return, “You still shame the rest of us with your good looks, Gale,” she laughed. “I’ll let Marge know when I see her next.”

Lila also knew she would share with Marge that while Gale was being loyal, standing off to the side her husband was exchanging oxygen with a woman on the dance floor.

His cheeks tinted at the mention of his girl. Buck and Bucky were both aware Lila and Marge wrote to one another and visited each other whenever time made it possible.

“Colonel Harding said Major Egan was in need of something from home,” she said, studying his reaction to see what she could read but Gale had always been aloof, cold. He wasn’t close to her like he was with Marge and John.

Gale thought back to a few moments earlier when John had disrespected their Colonel and all his actions before that too - disrespecting superiors, drinking more consistently, becoming angry - hopelessness in his eyes.

“He’s in need of you Lila,” Gale clarified and it wasn’t lost on either one of them that he they were referring to was currently on the floor wooing another woman.

“Holy shit! It’s Mrs. Egan!” Hambone animatedly announced and suddenly it felt like the eyes of everyone in there were on her. Her cheeks tinted pink, never having been one for the spotlight like her husband.

She was greeted with welcoming cheers and hugs.

John, for his part, disentangled from the woman he was holding at the mention of his missus. He was sober enough to appear sheepish and guilty, but in the next second it was gone as he stalked towards her. Determined. Quick. His smile growing the more he neared like he was becoming more aware she was really there and it wasn’t a fucked up scenario in his head.

“God, Lila,” she managed to hear him say before she was elevated in the air, his arms tight around her waist and lifting her high so they were at face level and he could kiss her. Channeling his love and exuberance and aggression into kissing his wife. “It’s you, it’s you, it’s really you,” he was saying in between smooches, “I missed you. So fucking much, doll.”

Basking in his love she didn’t feel the need to mention the woman that was so kindly keeping him preoccupied before she entered.

She couldn’t help the first tear from falling or the rest from following. It was like the tightness in her chest unlocked as she finally got to hold him and feel his heat surround her. He still smelled of after shave and the same hair gel that was kept in their bathroom at home but he tasted strongly of whiskey and cigarettes and strawberry lipstick.

John tucked his face into her neck, setting her down and bending to her level. Sniffling in there as he continued to hold her.

“None of that,” she did her best to stop her voice from wobbling or breaking, “we’re together. That’s all that matters.” She drew his face out from where he had hidden to pepper him with a few more kisses.

None of it was enough.

The rest of the guys were kind enough to return to the dance floor and act like they couldn’t see them.

“Who? What - why? How?” He was obviously having trouble forming coherent thoughts in between the kisses he continued stealing from her.

She was crying and laughing and trying to return all his touches. It was a terribly difficult ordeal but she had never been happier.

“Colonel Harding called and said you had a weekend leave. He said he talked to some of the higher ups but they couldn’t allow you a leave home so this was the next best thing,” she explained, cupping his cheek as she rubbed her thumb over his cheekbone. He had minor scars that weren’t there before.

She wanted to kiss every single one of them.

He was still bent towards her height, taking her in as she was taking him in.

She forgot how blue his eyes were.

He was whole. Complete. Hers.

“You’re here for the entire weekend?” He asked to confirm and she nodded, laughing when he lifted her again with a loud whoop to celebrate. That got a few of the guys to join in although they had no idea what their Major was celebrating.

“I need you,” his voice suddenly dropped, setting her down as he turned to the door. “Let’s go.” He was buckling up her coat to make sure she was protected from the freezing London air. She was lucky he was too far gone to scold her for arriving with it unbuckled in the first place - she could get sick.

“John, John - relax, my sweet man,” she laughed, cupping his cheek to get his attention. “We can stay for a while. We don’t have to go yet.”

It’s why she was at the officer’s club in the first place. She had arrived early.

John turned stiff in her hold, straightening to his full height as he suddenly loomed over her. “I’ve got you in my arms for the first time and you want to stay here?” His voice was tight. His face stern.

“Yes - no, I -” she was unsure of where she went wrong or how to fix it. She clasped his hands in hers but he didn’t allow her to thread their fingers together so it was just her holding on. “I just meant we’ve got time, John.”

The way he was looking at her made her want to cry. She felt her lower lip quivering.

She felt ashamed, whispering, trying to get him to keep his cool.

“Time? Time?” He laughed loudly. She was mildly aware of Gale breaking away from a group of guys to near them, worried but she was mostly focused on John. The tense lines on his face even as he laughed and the quirked eyebrow even though she found no amusement in their situation. “You think I’ve got time? You have no idea what it’s like up there.”

She shook her head but didn’t try to verbally explain herself. She wasn’t sure she could manage a few words before breaking into tears.

“Come on, Bucky,” that was Gale stepping in to save the day. Perhaps the only person who could get John to listen. “When have you ever left before dancing with your girl? You gotta show these rookies how it’s properly done right?”

With Gale slapping a hand to John’s shoulders, he seemed to snap out of it. Releasing a deep breath and seemingly all the tightness in body with it.

He leaned down again, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, clasping a hand around her neck so she wouldn’t pull her head back. As their eyes locked she felt a tear fall again and this one wasn’t happy. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. It’s this place. It’s fucking with my head.”

And she chose to believe him, nodding her head in understanding and trying not to think about how she wasn’t his preferred person to write letters to or the one who could clear his head.

Maybe the Colonel should have allowed a weekend pass for Gale and John.

Lila swallowed the thought, allowing John to pull her to the dance floor as he lost all anger and aggression and became charming and loving all over again.

“Everyone, this is my wife!” He bellowed and everyone cheered in response. “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and -” he hiccuped and she realized he was drunker than she thought, “and I bet we can out dance any couples here tonight!”

So for the next hour she found herself being twirled around the dance floor by her husband. She almost forgot their prior negative interaction; his love and energy was so infectious. For the slow songs he would hold her close and she would rest her head against his chest, letting it lull her to a relaxing state. He was alive and she was with him. That had to be enough. For the more upbeat songs, he was challenging any couple beside them. Asking those sitting who were better dancers? Who could perform certain dance moves better?

And all throughout, he was like he used to be back home. Loud and happy and the center of attention, keeping everyone entertained. He kept announcing to his boys that his beautiful wife was there and then he’d place a wet kiss on her mouth that had their cheeks (and hers) turning red but all he would do is smile and continue on.

She was finally able to disentangle herself from him when Crosby pulled him in for a conversation. Lila wonders if her state of disheveled hair and panting breaths made him want to aid her in allowing her to sit and grab a refresher.

Once she accepts Crosby’s hug and cheek kiss, she excuses herself to go grab a drink. John only pulls her back once to steal a kiss before she gets too far.

Her lips might be bruised by the time they leave if he kept it up.

She orders a cup of ice water from the man tending the bar, looking back out at her husband as she waits. He’d always been tall and strong, but she notices the change in his posture. The bulges in his arms as he twirled her around and lifted her in the air. His eyes were only bright when he forced it. They had lost their shine and she wishes she brought the picture from back home. Where he looks young and full of life and joyful. Even when he smiles he seems hollow; hopeless.

She’s there but he doesn’t really care because in his head he’s already thinking of when she leaves again.

She wasn’t used to that. Her John only lived in the moment.

“He keepin’ you busy?”

Gale settles up behind her and pushes the glass water towards her. She didn’t even notice when it was put down.

“Dizzy, more like,” she jokes and gets him to crack a smile. She thinks to when she walked in and seen Gale, how he’d been watching the scene unfold but with a disapproving look in his eyes. How he didn’t try to hide the scene from her or excuse it. He let it be. And she knows John has never shied away from attention. He’s always been handsome and charming and girls always swarmed but Lila wasn’t aware she had to be around to keep him loyal. She thought he just was. And she knows it’s not too long before they leave now so she decides to be direct with him. “So, does that happen often?”

She sees Gale’s expression split for a second, like he debates playing dumb before deciding against it and she respects him even more for it.

“I think you should talk to John about it.” He decides on.

“Is it something that needs to be mentioned?” She doesn’t like playing this game with him but she knows at the first words of cheating and adultery Gale is going to excuse himself and her chance will be lost.

She can’t be simple and ask: Does my husband cheat on me?

“Another ginger ale, Marty,” Gale raises two fingers to grab the man’s attention and mutters a thanks as his drink is immediately refilled. He turns his attention back to Lila. “He still loves you, Lila. It’s just - hard. Being out here.”

“You seem to be coping fine.”

She feels bitter. Crazy. There’s a sob she has to choke back.

Lila’s too embarrassed to meet Gale’s gaze. Ashamed that everyone knows what’s been going on and she was the ditzy woman being twirled on the dance floor.

“I think I was used to loneliness. He isn’t.”

And he says nothing else as he leaves her behind heading back to his boys. It’s just Lila and her shattering heart and her husband calling to beckon her back to the dance floor.

Luckily they didn’t stay much longer. She walked over to Bucky but he wasn’t able to pull her back out for a dance - it’s my song, Lila! - because Jack Kidd was approaching, letting them know it was time to leave them at the train station.

Lila waited in the car while Bucky ran into his quarters to pack his bag. He didn’t have many things to take, he would be stuck wearing his uniform anyway. Gale walks him back out to the car and despite the earlier conversation Lila exits the safety of the interior to say her goodbyes.

“Take care of yourself, Major,” she squeezes him, “I need you to stick around after this weekend to look after my man.”

“It’s a hard job but I try,” he replies, both of them ignoring Bucky’s protests.

Besides that, Bucky’s quiet on the ride to the train station. He carries her bag on board but he’s quiet for the duration of the train ride. Lila doesn’t disturb him; he might be tired or hungover or both.

And if she’s honest she’s scared of him snapping at her like the night before.

Instead she takes the time to take him in. He’s handsome in his suit. Tall and big and strong, his sharp jaw and powerful mouth, his eyes blue like a sunny day and his curls coming undone from the gel after all the dancing he did.

Lila doesn’t allow her mind to wander down this path too often but suddenly she can’t help it. Would their baby have looked like him or like her? She wishes more than anything they would have had his ears. She wishes they would have had his heart and his strength - but her loyalty. Her faith in them.

It’s crazy when she stops to think she was nineteen when she married him and now she’s twenty-one. She’s loved him for more than she’s been allowed to have him. She has changed without him like he has without her and it’s frightening to think neither of them could be accepting of those changes. Whatever they may be.

Lila shuts those thoughts out, closing the distance between them to sit on his lap. Passerby’s and his horrible mood and what scares her could be damned to hell - all she wants is her man.

John doesn’t deny her; she admits she was a little scared he would.

“I love you,” she tells him, catching his eyes.

“I know.”

He doesn’t return the words as they continue staring at one another but she refuses to let it get her down. This is her husband. She has the rest of her life to get to know him; new or old habits, she doesn’t care.

So instead, Lila plasters a smile onto her face. “What’re you gonna show me first in London, Major?”

“Well I really wanna show you our hotel room,” he plays along, allowing her to trace the edges of his mustache. She lets out a knowing chortle. “And I really want to show you -” he cuts himself off to look around, making sure no one was near them as he leans in to whisper, “- my cock, Mrs. Egan.”

She turns a bright red, trying to sputter out a proper response for that but all she can do is indignantly scold him. “John Clarence! If your mom were here -” and they both break out in loud laughter at the many possibilities of what his mother would exactly do to him if she heard his wicked mouth.

“Wanna grab some grub first?” He asks instead, knowing she hadn’t eaten at the officers club and before then she had been stuck on a plane. “I know a few places.”

Lila nods happily, pressing a kiss to his mouth. His lips are warm and as plump as she remembers them. His mustache tickles her.

“Let me feed you first, woman!” He groans, trying to be a gentleman. “When’s the last time you ate?”

She puckers her lips to think about it and that’s the only answer he needs: food is definitely first.

When they arrive at the hotel John enters to check them in but he slips a few bills into the bell boy’s hand with strict instructions to leave the bags in their room before pulling her back out to the London streets.

Lila felt underdressed surrounded by women in diamonds and fancy hats, and it didn’t help that John was beside her in his uniform looking dapper and catching the eye of many. They were stopped multiple times on the way to the diner; men wanting to shake his hand and show their gratitude while the women introduced themselves, uncaring of Lila under his right arm.

As long as he wasn’t ignoring or dismissing her she realized she didn’t really care. It wasn’t much different back home; everyone knew and loved John Egan.

The diner he chose was small and cozy and his legs were too long to fit under their table so his boot and his knee kept bumping into her own and she adored it. She wanted to feel close to him and since sitting on his lap currently wasn’t an option she figured this would have to do.

He tells her many stories but none of them are sad or tragic. He only shares the happy ones. He talks about how he convinced the Colonel to allow Buck, Curt, and himself a London weekend pass one time and they had shoved Gale into a haberdashery where he tried on a multitude of top hats worth more money any of them would ever see combined. But because they were soldiers and majors at that, the owner allowed it. There’s a museum nearby he talks about wanting to take her too, it showcases art from as early as the 1400s and he says he’s gotten lost in there plenty of times and it was lovely.

All the while, she listens without hearing him. Choosing to take him in and letting her mind wander to how it would be if things were different. It pains her to think how much older he looks since she last saw him. Looking more like it was ten years instead of the measly two. John’s always been one to smile freely but the wrinkles by his mouth, eyes, and forehead aren’t from smiling or laughing too much.

Lila knows they’re from worrying and stressing and being scared and she hates that she can’t understand him or be there for him. No matter how hard he tries.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes when a sob breaks free. She curls in over the table and John’s reaching over to rub her shoulders. She grabs a hold of her hand in his. “I just missed you so much.” She presses a kiss to his knuckles. “I don’t think I know how to not miss you.”

John doesn’t say anything but he motions a server over to settle the bill and once that’s done, he’s taking her hand and pulling her out the chair.

“You got enough food in you?”

All she can do is nod.

Her body feels electric on the short walk back to the hotel. He doesn’t do more than hold her hand and she thinks that is what has her nerves jittery, his palm in her hand sets her alight. She can feel his rough skin and the calluses on his fingers and the fingertips he runs over her skin and she bites back a moan.

Moaning in the middle of a bustling London street? She’d be thrown into an asylum she’s sure.

Beside her he’s quiet but his steps are quick. She has to lightly jog to keep up with long strides. He pulls on her hand to help her keep pace. It makes her think he’s as impatient for it as she is so she was surprised when upon closing the hotel room behind him he stays by the door. Not nearing or touching or kissing.

Just - nothing.

Her throat becomes tight again as she remembers the girl from the night before and her conversation with Gale. Is that the reason why?

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he says before she can spiral any further. Approaching her and bringing their lips together in a searing kiss, wasting no time in sliding his tongue alongside hers.

“I love you,” she responds and once again he doesn’t say it back. She figured he wouldn’t but she wanted to try. He takes her mouth in his again.

She gets irrationally angry, suddenly feeling the need to claim him so she bites at his bottom lip. He pulls back to press a finger to his lip, wiping the blood there.

Lila pulls on his belt, dropping to her knees right there in the middle of the room.

Mine. He’s mine.

“Make me your wife again,” she’s not sure but it sounds like she’s begging as she manages to unbuckle his belt and pull them around his strong thighs.

“God,” he breathed, “fuck. Look at you.”

Swollen lips parted for him to put to use. John wrapped his fist around her long hair to maintain a good grip, allowing the tip of his cock to hit the back of her throat. There was no resistance, no gag, her body remembering how it was taught to take all of him even though time had passed. John loved that fucking mouth and he found himself angry as thoughts entered his mind - if anyone had fucked her mouth while he’d been away - and he jerks his hips more forcefully. Rough.

This time Lila does gag. Her hand goes to push against his hip but he doesn’t allow her to pull away.

“Did anyone else do this?”

She splutters, eyes on him and confused with a mouthful of cock, unable to talk.

“Did you suck someone else’s cock? This is mine, Lila. Mine.”

He holds her down for a couple of more seconds before allowing her reprieve. She sputters and coughs, looking at him the entire time.

His dick is still hard and long, standing to attention, and he’s not sure whether he should apologize before she’s taking his bobbing dick back into her mouth. To the back of her throat and gulping and fondling his balls. Her nose kissing the coarse hairs on his belly trail and although it feels fucking amazing - he can feel the anger too. Her anger.

How dare he accuse her.

When she pulls off there’s a strand of saliva connecting his prick to her tongue. She has half a mind to go back for more but he’s pulling her back by her hair.

“I’m so lucky to have a wife who’s cock hungry,” he groans, pulling her to her feet by her hair and connecting their mouths in a rough kiss. Their teeths crash and tongues wrestly and he feels fucking crazy that she tastes like him. Simultaneously ripping each other’s clothes off.

Lila didn’t have any warning. One second she was kissing him and ripping open his shirt and the next she was bent over the bed with her ass in the air. John ran a finger over the wet patch on her underwear. The bite on her cheek was also unexpected and she clawed at the sheets, sure she could come from the feeling alone.

“This is mine, Lila,” he leaned in close, burying his face in her underwear. “Mine.”

All she could do was whimper and agree.

John smacked her ass so hard it jiggled. Lila yelled and after the pain ceded, time seemed to stop. Nothing but their rough breathing filling the room. John had never done that before.

She wasn’t sobbing but there were tears escaping. She was sure he didn’t know. He was waiting for a reaction.

Lila wasn’t sure where this side of her husband came from. Had he held back those two months? Did he learn it in Europe? Was that why there was another woman - because she couldn’t satisfy him?

She can’t lose him.

“Please,” she begs, hiding tears in the duvet, “do it again.”

Lies. It was all lies but John believes her and he strikes again. She yelps, fisiting the sheets. He believes it’s in pleasure.

Ten slaps. That’s how many she endures before he begins shushing and petting her again. He runs his fingers through her folds and although she didn’t enjoy the punishment mentally - she did nothing wrong, he was the liar - her body certainly did. She’s sopping wet, she’s gonna have to throw out her underwear because they’re destroyed.

“Did you enjoy that?” He grabs a fistful of her hair to sit her up, her back against his sweaty, matter chest. “You like being spanked, baby?”

“Yes.” It’s only half of a lie.

“Now - now, I’m going to fuck you. Nice and hard, just how you like it,” she wants to scream at him. She wants to hit him. When did she ever like it hard? When was hard ever nice? Who was he thinking about because it wasn’t her.

But at the same time she rocks back against him to feel his cock hard between her cheeks. She can’t say she doesn’t want it. Him. This.

He pushes her back down at her teasing, using his now free hands to spread her cheeks and show her tight asshole. Untouched and pure. He presses the tip of his cock against it but he doesn’t push. He doesn’t move.

She jerks at the pressure. Drools on the mattress as she tries to bite down to temper her screams.

Do it.

No, don’t.

“One day,” he promises, pressing deeper so her hole opens but not deep enough to push. “But today, today I want this.” And without any prepping like she’s used to, without any more warning, he’s sliding down and pushing into her. Hard. Deep.

She screams, can’t help it, claws at the mattress in an attempt to crawl away.

It hurt but it felt so good.

Who was she?

“You think you can go be with other men? Let them use the holes I trained? The ones that belong to me?” He pumps into her deep. Once, twice. She’s so wet the noises filling the room are pornographic, her yelling and his panting and her sopping wet vagina smacking against his thighs and taking his cock so well. “You like it like this, Lila? Like when I fucking own you?”

“Yes, yes,” she swears and this time she isn’t lying. It’s all she can manage; she thinks she’s gone cock dumb. There are no words, no feelings, just the feeling of him filling her.

She clenches tight when he slides out. She wants him inside her forever.

He releases his hold of her hair, stepping away. He’s tired of muffling her moans and words. He’s tired of not being able to see her beautiful face.

John’s favorite face in the entire world.

“Turn around,” he commands.

Lila kneels on wobbly legs as she turns over, having little to no energy and bouncing as her body lands with no grace on the mattress. John grabs one of her jiggling breasts in his large hand, squeezing tightly.

“I fucking missed these.” He takes one in his mouth, biting down on her nipple hard. She shrieks but holds his head to pull him closer.

Her thighs are forced open by his hand and then he’s taking hold of himself and thrusting in deep again. Releasing her breasts from his mouth in order to look at her mouth. Lila’s face when he’s fucking her is as close to heaven as he thinks he’ll ever get. She’s incoherent but she’s begging for more - that much he can make out. She manages to gather the strength to grab hold of him and pull him down, clawing at his back.

He hisses at the pain and bites on her collarbone to reciprocate it.

When she grabs the nape of his neck, the cool touch of her wedding ring against his skin, it gives him pause. This was his wife. His wife.

John has been gone so long he thinks he forgot he was married.

“I love you,” he finally says it, pressing his forehead against hers as he slows down. He sniffles then, leaning down to press a wet open-mouthed kiss against hers and swallow her moans. John can’t believe he forgot he had this; can’t believe he forgot for a minute how lucky he was. She’s gorgeous (and not just externally) and he’s quite sure he somehow managed to dream her up. “I love you,” he swears again.

This time she’s the one who doesn’t say it.

She clutches at neck and pulls him down to take a boob in his mouth. Looking him in the eye hurts too damn much. Why did he have to do this now? She was lost in the pain; she had been taking her punishment.

Lila squeezed her eyes shut, moaning loudly as she thrashed around the bed. Her orgasm taking over her body. She wrapped both legs tighter around John, squeezing and pulsing around him and dragging him to the edge with her.

“Fuck, fuck,” he roared, “so damn tight. Yes, Lila. My perfect wife.”

For a couple of seconds, they lay in the aftermath. Lila could feel the heat of John’s breath against her neck. She counted how many breaths they shared in between one another as they recuperated.

Forty-seven that’s how many breaths they shared as they stayed connected.

Forty-eight that’s when John managed to lift his head and place a peck against her mouth. One she didn’t return.

Forty-nine that’s when John pulled back in concern. Lila was so still.

Fifty. That’s the breath she used to say, “you cheated on me,” looking him right in the eyes as she broke out in uncontrollable sobs.

She cried and cried underneath him. Unable to move because her legs felt like jello and they held no power. Unable to push him off because she didn’t want to let him go. Unable to speak because she was suffocating in her heartbreak.

John watched her until he couldn’t, until he was afraid she was going to choke on her own tears and then he was sitting her up, trying to ignore the way she fought against his touch.

I’m sorry, I’m here, he kept saying.

I hate you, she thought but didn’t say.

Until finally, “don’t touch me!” She yelled when he got too close and made to wrap her up in a hug. “Get away from me, John. Stay away.” She crawled to the edge of the bed and curled herself into a tiny ball. Aware she was fully naked and he was still leaking out of her but she couldn’t find it in herself to do anything except cry.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t open her lungs and get any air in. She slapped at the headboard, aware that she was having a panic attack as suddenly everything hit her all at once. It was entirely consuming and she couldn’t do anything to fight against it except cry. All the feelings rushed her at once.

This was going to be it. The weekend of two lovers reunited was the weekend from hell and this was going to be it. She was going to return home in a day and he would stay in Europe and continue to fight the war and seek out other girls and when he returned she wouldn’t be his wife anymore.

Lila would be scornful and full of resentment and miserable and he would leave her. This last time was going to be all she had and she hated him for ruining it.

Why couldn’t he hide his affairs better?

Why did she have to surprise him?

She was perfectly happy not knowing. She was worried and stressed to hell and crying every night missing him but, oh God, all that was better than this.

Lila isn’t sure how long it’s been since she last took a breath but she feels herself fading. She’s shivering and naked in their bed and she can only slightly take in that John’s wrapping her up in the duvet and curling himself around her to warm her up. She’s trying to tell him she can’t breathe, she’s suffocating, at the same time he’s blowing air in her face.

She’s fading when she feels it. A sting on the left side of her face. Hard and sharp and enough to have her gasping for a deep breath.

“Baby, please, wake up,” he’s crying over her, his head on her chest, “wake up. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Her chest aches. She coughs.

He whips his head up so fast she almost laughs. Almost.

“Lila,” he holds her against his chest, rocking them back and forth on the bed as she takes in her surroundings. She isn’t sure how long she was out or how long she was panicking for. Had the sun been setting while she lost her shit? It was dark outside now. “Don’t leave me, you can’t leave me. Please.”

She taps at his arms to get him to release. She doesn’t think she can talk.

John allows her the space but he doesn’t remove himself from the bed. He stays kneeling, watching her. His hands keep twitching like he wants to reach out and touch her but he’s trying to respect her wishes of not being touched.

She doesn’t lay back down, she stays resting against the headboard. Breathing hurts. She’s scared of suffocating once more. Her left cheek begins burning and she wishes she had the strength to go look in the mirror. Did he mark her? She hopes he did.

Lila’s glad he made it hurt.

“You need to go,” she finally manages to say, ignoring the way he’s already shaking his head in defiance. “Leave me here, John. I want you to go. Get another room.” Find another woman. “I leave in a day.” She wishes she never came to stupid London. She wishes she could forget this entire trip.

“Lila it’s the war,” he starts, shaking in his own tears. “It’s all the shit I see, baby. None of it was because of you okay? None. You don’t fucking know what it’s like up there for us but I stay alive in hopes of coming home to you.” He promises.

She shakes her head, fighting back any more tears. How the hell could she still have any tears left?

“But Gale didn’t cheat,” it bursts out of her before she can stop it and she knows it’s the wrong thing to say entirely.

John stops his apologies, clearing his throat as he gets up and begins dressing into his suit. She doesn’t stop him. She doesn’t take back any of what she said. She gets tired of sitting so she lays on her side, staring out the window and noticing London doesn’t have many stars. Is that why it’s so horrible here? Because there were no stars to wish upon.

She could hear his boots stomping on the ground as he reached the door. “Maybe you should have married Gale fucking Cleven then.” And the door slams shut behind him.

She wonders if he’s angry enough to find a girl and sleep with her. Her eyes blur. The time on the clock is six p.m and London’s already dark. She realizes she hasn’t slept since her plane ride. About 19 hours awake - her and John.

Lila allows her eyes to close, hoping when she wakes everything will be better.

Shadows over her eyelids wake her up. Lila finds she hasn’t moved. She’s in the same position facing the window. Facing London, only now bombs are dropping over it. The prettiest colors burst forward in the window but she knows it's truly only tragedy and loss. Murder.

She recognizes John sitting in the arm chair and she wonders when he got back. He isn’t facing her, he’s watching bomb after bomb drop and land no more than mere miles away from them. He’s holding a whiskey on ice, twirling the ice so it hits against the glass.

Lila wonders then if it was the shadows or the noise that woke her up.

“I must have punched in my card a long time ago,” his voice is strong in the dead of the night, seemingly even louder than when he’s singing in the pub. “It must be the reason for all of this. Karma.” He scoffs.

I deserve this, is what he’s trying to say.

Lila feels her stomach twist and spin and there’s bile sitting in her throat. She closes her eyes to stop herself from imagining John in a plane, dropping a bomb that lands on children. She closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to see the hurt sitting on his shoulders.

She remembers how angry she was when he first signed up. Before they were married. They had been dating for over a month, barely, and she already scribbled ‘Mrs. Egan’ over her notebooks. She’d heard it from his younger sister, Eileen, and she felt her world stop. She hadn’t hesitated to run to the stables he worked at and confront him in front of all the men.

“You’re leaving me,” she had accused him. “You’re gonna leave! I’ll never forgive you, John Egan.”

And in front of everyone he’d knelt down and produced a ring, the one his father had given his mother and said, “Marry me.” He didn’t ask because they both knew it wasn’t a question.

She was already his.

And he was hers.

Lila had forgiven him and promised to love, honor, and obey for the rest of her life.

She doesn’t have the strength to stand so even though her throat burns she speaks. “Lay with me,” she croaks. Her voice is raspy and broken and even clearing it aches.

John shakes his head. “You don’t want me to.”

“Lay with me,” she repeats, firm. “I just want to fall asleep with you.”

He looks at her like he's scared to believe. Trying to figure out whether she’s simply being cruel and going to kick him out in her next breath. Or more likely, he’s scared she’ll lose her shit being near him again.

John, hopeful and never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, sets his drink down and nears the bed. Lila keeps her eyes locked on his and he does the same. Their moves and tension resemble a game of chicken, one of them afraid any sudden change can have the other running off.

“Take off your uniform,” she says when he pushes back the covers while still fully dressed. He jerks his head in confusion and she bites her lip to contain a laugh at his dirty mind. Sex is the last thing on her mind. “I want to feel you, that’s all.”

John does as she asks, setting his cap down and shredding every layer before he’s naked and gorgeous and sliding in beside her. She doesn’t allow herself to think about what it means when she immediately slides closer.

Lila’s the one to wrap her arms around him.

Lila’s the one to intertwine their legs.

John follows her lead, lifting an arm so she can raise her head and use it as a pillow. She scoots her face closer and she nuzzles into her armpit, smelling his deodorant and feeling his hairs poke at her nose. She moves further along, escaping the cocoon of his armpit to press her cheek against his chest. She clutches his dog tags in her palm, tight, so he can’t get up in the middle of the night.

“Can we fall asleep together?” She asks, but when she looks up John’s already there.

The next time Lila wakes up her palm aches. She releases what she’s gripping, remembering how she clung to John’s dog tags when he slid into bed beside her. She lifts her head and finds John already looking at her.

He’s got the saddest eyes she’s ever seen and she hates that she’s partly why.

“We should talk,” her voice is low and cracks from not being used. John nods his head but makes no move to begin.

Lila lays her head back on his chest, lightly picking at his matted, curly chest hair. She presses her lips to a freckle near his nipple and his intake of breath lets her know he felt it,

“I’m not the one you write the most letters too,” she starts, finding it easier to not have to look him in the eye. “You write the most to your mom. And I’m not the one who can calm you down when your anger gets the best of you,” she’s so tired of crying, “that’s Gale. “And I can’t even be here for you at the end of a mission to console you or kiss you or help you forget,” she chokes on a sob. “That’s whoever else.”

I couldn’t even keep our baby healthy, she leaves out.

“What’s your point with all this, Lila?”

Lila lifts her head from his chest, “My point is I’m a horrible wife. I - I don’t know if it was too soon or just not thought out but this - I- ” she can’t get the rest of the words out.

“Don’t say that,” John sits up against the headboard, forcing her up as well. He grabs both her wrists in one of his hands to pull her closer and grab her attention. “Don’t fucking tell me that, Lila.”

“I don’t make you happy,” she shakes her head.

“You do. Everything I do, everything I’m doing - it’s for you Lila.”

“I don’t want to marry Gale. Or someone like him. I love you. Only you. But I’m scared that I don’t make you happy. You deserve better.”

“Oh you dumbass,” John coos, suddenly finding the entire situation amusing. He pulls her in for a hug. “You’re my entire fucking heart, Lila Egan. You don’t think you make me happy? You’re the only thing in my life, in my head, that makes me happy.”

She pulls away to hold his face. “If you’re gonna leave me John you need to tell me now. I don’t care about the girls if all they are is to pass the time. And I don’t care that you write to your mom more than me and I don’t care that Gale is the one you listen to but I just need to be the one you love the most. I need to know I’m making you happy.”

His heart aches at the fact that he made her feel she was ever anything less than the most important person in his life. “Lila,” he presses a kiss to her lips, “Rose,” another kiss, “Egan,” another. “Are my only reason for staying alive.”

[fancyhandsbakery]

Here is how I calculate the bat-families current ages using evidence from the comics that the writers love to ignore bc there is no way for their now canon ages to match their cannon age gaps. (If you don’t want to wait, results are the 2nd set of bullet points)

Here is what we know about their current ages:

Dick is 28 or 27(somewhere around there) in the current Nightwing run(if he’s 26 tell me and just minus one from the final results)

Jason is, I think, 22 or 23 as of Task force Z or something if I remember right

Tim is finally 18

And Damian is 14 as of the newest Robin series

Here is what we know about their canon age gaps:

We know that Jason and Dick are 7 years apart. Why? In Batman 416 we find out that that Dick is 19 and Jason is 12 when they first meet in post crisis

We know that Tim and Jason are 2 or 3(2.5 really) years apart. Why? Jason dies when he is 15. Following his birthday and Tim being 13 when he becomes Robin, they have to be 2.5 years apart. I’ll use 2 and 3 for simplicity.

Tim and Damian are 6/7 year apart. Why? Tim is 17 in Red Robin and Damian is 10.

Cassandra is less than a year older than Jason. Why? We find out when Bruce shows her Jason’s grave.

Duke is 16 when we meet him. Damian is around 12. Tim is still 17. So Duke and Damian are 4 year apart.

Per the original 40s comics, Dick and Bruce have a 14 year age gap. In the 2002 run, they have a 10 year age gap.

So how do we make sense of this.

Damian is the most recent and cannon age we know so we have to use his age to find everyone’s actual age. Red is cannon ages.

Damian(14) + 6/7 = Tim(20/21)

Tim(20/21) + 2/3 = Jason(22/23)

Jason(22/23) + >1 = Cassandra(22.5/23/23.5/24)

Jason(22/23) + 6/7 = Dick(28/29/29/30)

Damian(14) + 4 = Duke (18)

Final ages

Damian is 14

Duke is 18

Tim is 20 or 21

Jason is 22 or 23

Cassandras is <23.5

Dick is 29 or 30

Now Bruce. In the original comics(1942), Dick is 8 when his parents die, but is retconned to be 12 in the 2002 comics. I’ll do both timelines. Bruce’s starting age is hard to agree on. I see 22 a lot and given the out come of this, it makes sense because Bruce is currently in his 40s.

Using the 1940s ages, Dick and Bruce have a 14 year old age gap. (22 - 8 = 14) Given that Dick has to be 29 or 30, Bruce is 43 or 44. These ages make sense in cannon.

Using the 2002 ages, Dick and Bruce have a 10 year age gap. (22 - 12 = 10) Given that Dick has to be 29 or 30, Bruce is 39 or 40. These make less sense given the ages he would adopt the other kids and what we know in cannon.

Bruce is 43 or 44

Stephanie would be 21 or 22 by the way.

Barbra is older than Dick by a sum. Probably less than 35.

I would love to know what you think. Did I mess up with anything?

Edit made: I fucked up Duke's age. He'd be 18 bc he's 4 years older than Damian. 14 + 4 = 18

[rin-may-1103]

The Wrong Robin Au (Part Six)

Previous | Master Post | Next AN: Because I wanted Danny and Jason to be the same age, I've moved the DP timeline forward six years. (If we go with their canon ages and timeline, Danny's the same age as Dick.) I'll make it make sense, but until then please ignore the possible confusion it might cause😅.

Turning, Danny held the picture frame up to show Bruce who he was talking about. Bruce glanced up and studied it for a moment before he looked at Danny. His eyes were calculating just like they had been for the past ten minutes, which might Danny add, was really annoying.

"That's my eldest son, Dick." Bruce finally answered, continuing to watch for Danny's reaction.

Danny blinked, looked down at the picture then turned to put it back. why in the world was his name Dick? like, was that actually his name or was it a nickname? it's not like Danny was judging the kid for it, but seriously, who names their kid dick?

sure, Danny used to fight ghosts named Skulker and Technis all the time, but they chose their names. Did the kid willingly choose to go by dick or were his parents unaware of what the word meant? Danny's really hoping the parents weren't aware of what it meant, because if they were? oh boy was that a bag of worms Danny wanted nothing to do with.

How old was the kid anyway? That looked like an older picture, so he probably wasn't that young anymore.

"How old is he?" Danny asks, turning to study another picture. this one was of Jason hanging out with Alfred in what looked like a kitchen. The kid was covered in flour while Alfred didn't have a single speck of dust on him. They both looked happy.

Bruce was silent for a moment, so Danny turned to look at him. Confusion and shock swirled around him, making Danny frown.

"you don't know how old he is do you?" Danny asked, glaring at Bruce. As much as Danny promised to help him, the man was making it extremely hard to do so, when every time he learns something it makes him want to punt the man into the sun.

alright, so forgetting when someone's birthday is sucks but doesn't make sense for someone like Batman, so it wasn't that exactly it's probably more along the lines of grief messing with his perception of time. yeah, that makes more sense. because if it's not, Danny's not afraid to punch the man again.

"Alright, what's his birthday?" Danny asks, making his way to sit back in the chair he had used previously.

"march 20th," Bruce grumbled, turning to glare out the window like the emo bat he was. And see? He didn't forget the date, which means, Danny was right.

"year?" Danny pushed, slumping down in his chair. It felt like he was pulling teeth with how trying to get information from the man was going. Ancients, Danny was going to go gray before they got anywhere.

"1990," Bruce replied, still glaring out the window like he was in some emo music video.

"Alright, it's 2013, so doing some basic maths, Dick is" Danny pretended to do a drumroll as he quickly calculated the dude's age. and he was a dude because he's definitely older than Danny.

"23," Danny finally announced, looking up to watch as Bruce's emotions spiraled in the air. Anger, hurt, annoyance, guilt. Yep, a full-blown meltdown is on the horizon, everyone. let's back it up, Danny's seen enough grown men cry, he doesn't need to do it again.

"Alright!" clapping his hands, Danny stood up and made his way to the door. opening it, Danny glanced out the hall and spotted Alfred finally making his way back toward them. looks like that blood analysis Bruce definitely ordered Alfred to do finally finished. good.

"Alright, mister anger issues. you need to go to bed." turning back to the room, Danny pointed at Bruce. the man stared at him, his emotions freezing in their downward spiral as he processed the words.

"I agreed," Alfred cut in before Bruce could argue against it, making Danny grin. Oh, he was so going to get along with Alfred, he just knew it.

walking over to the desk, Danny snatched one of the sticky notes and a pen. Writing his number on the paper, he handed it to Alfred, "Here you go. you get to keep it because I have a feeling you'll actually use it properly. it's my number, call me tomorrow after he gets some rest. I'll come back and we can discuss how to go about the Batman business from now on"

"you can't just-" Bruce started, cutting himself off when Alfred took the paper and promptly started guiding him out of his own office. "honestly, Master Bruce. You need your sleep, you've gotten so bad lately, that you willingly fought a child."

"I'll show myself out!" Danny called after them, watching as they turned a corner. glancing at the clock, he noticed a green sticky note. blinking, Danny made his way over. nothing was written on it. which means this was just a hint to start looking around here.

intrigued, Danny started studying the grandfather clock, wondering what clockwork could possibly want him to find. The wood overlay looked fine, and the upper door looked freshly polished. The Moon Dial and clock face looked normal, though the hour and minute hands looked slightly worn down. the glass side access panel looked like it hadn't been touched in years.

hmm, strange. the toe molding had slight scuff marks on the corner like it repeatedly hit against something. glancing around, Danny spotted matching marks on the bookshelf next to the clock. crouching down, Danny studied the marks. it was like Bruce had repeatedly moved the clock around like a door...

standing up, Danny studied the clock handles again. worn down like they had been repeatedly rearranged, but the side access panel looked practically brand new which meant the internal workings of the clock worked perfectly fine. so then why would someone have to reset the time if it wasn't broken?

unless...

carefully opening the glass upper door, Danny studied the clock face closely. the oil from human fingers usually damaged the pearl facing used in most clocks, so all Danny had to do was...

there! right below the X that meant ten, and again slightly behind the XI for eleven. which means...

moving the hour hand to right before eleven, and the minute hand to right before ten (so around minute 48.) Danny heard a click. stepping back, Danny watched as the grandfather clock swung open and revealed a passageway. glancing back to the door Alfred and Bruce had left through, Danny smiled.

"Thanks, clocky," he whispered, heading inside and closing the clock-made door behind him. If Tim was right, and he definitely was, the bat cave was below the manor, and with his enhanced eyesight, Danny could see an elevator at the end of the dark hallway, which meant this was one of the secret entrances. (he's pretty sure Batman's smart enough to have more than one entrance. it'd be pretty stupid not to.)

he had plenty of time to snoop around the Batcave now, which meant he had plenty of time to figure out how it worked and how to use that to his advantage. Bruce can't ignore him and his advice if all the bat suits go missing now, can he?

Next

[starry-bi-sky]

I am procrastinating homework and finals studying so I'm making another DPxDC au -- or more accurately, I am making an au of an au. or combining two aus to make a third one, because I am Procastinating And thinking about it.

(the part two for my Danny is Jason Todd au is like,,, half-made and I will get around to finishing it, promiiissse)

So the two aus I had in mind were combining, of course, the two clone aus - the Danny Clone and the Damian Clone au. For folks who haven't seen either posts (or saw one but not the other) here are summaries of both:

Damian Clone Au: The LoA make a clone of Damian Wayne specifically to either kill Damian Wayne and have the clone take his place as the heir to the LoA, or to bring him back. At 6 years old though and through magical teleportation mishaps, Baby Damian ends up in the warehouse district of Amity Park and picked up (and later adopted) by Danny Fenton. They develop a brotherly dynamic with one another.

Danny Clone Au: Danny is straight up a clone of Bruce Wayne, doesn't find out until a year after he has his accident. And, for the fun of it, is also mostly-powerless (he retains his ghost sense and a semblance of a ghost core and signature, but no ghost form). His reasoning for becoming Phantom is because he has walked into the lab watching his parents dissecting ghosts post-portal working more times than he can count. And due to this, changes his beliefs from "ghosts are evil" to "ghosts are sentient and sapient beings who don't deserve this treatment". (masterpost pinned on my blog, its currently incomplete) He is also a little GNC, as a treat. Long-haired Danny ftw. Ellie is a halfa because of the ectoplasm that Vlad used, and also the same age as Danny. They call each other twins and she is viciously protective of him. He uses a baseball bat and brass knuckles that I call 'jawbreakers' to fight ghosts.

Now admittedly, not much probably changes with the combination of these aus other than the potential parallels between Damian and Danny, and Bruce and Damian - and of course, I am always a sucker for parallels. Plus Damian's running off would take Danny finding him much longer, since he can no longer fly, but all the more meaningful because he still took so much time to find him.

(It probably also makes their first meeting different as well - Danny wears a ROTTMNT Casey Jones Jr. esq. mask when he goes out, but Damian would recognize lazarus green anywhere. He'd probably try harder to kill him though once he sees his face, since he knows that its not his father but an imposter.)

It also includes what I consider a hilarious conversation: "Since I'm a clone of Bruce Wayne, does this make me your dad or your brother?" "Don't be an idiot, laeazir." "You didn't answer my question."

The biggest change that comes from this is, of course, the fact that Danny now no longer has a leg to stand on with the "you're a human, I am a ghost" excuse in order to prevent Damian to help him with ghost-fighting, because now Danny is also a squishy, fleshy and fragile human just like Damian. And a human who, arguably, has less combat training than Damian and no powers to make up for it.

Now, Danny in both aus are about 16-17-ish in age, so they've had time to adapt to their new vigilante-hero lifestyle, but its still not the same as Damian's training as an assassin. Damian, unlike in the original clone au, remains insistent on his want to help Danny.

And,,, eventually wears him down after weeks or months of sneaking out after him, helping in fights, interfering, arguing, etc. Danny eventually agrees, exhausted, but he makes Damian promise, promise, that he will be careful and to focus on dodging and distraction. At least until Danny can figure out a safer alternative. He wants him as far removed from the fight as he can, he's a child for ancient's sake, after all.

Which is another issue too - if we follow Damian Clone timeline, then Damian is six years old when this happens. I'll be point blank, I do not see Danny ever actually agreeing to let a literal 6 year old go with him. SO, solution, I bump Damian's age to 7 when he arrives in the Fenton Family, and make him freshly eight years old when he finally gets Danny to agree.

It still SUCKS. He is still very much an itty bitty child, but as someone who has seen the difference between a six year old and an eight year old due to working at a daycare, an eight year old is still... slightly feasible. And an 8 year old assassin even more so (even if he hasn't trained properly in nearly a year or so)

So Danny, reluctantly, agrees to let Damian come with him on patrols.

He ghost-proofs Damian's sword (as he has since learned to do with his bat and jawbreakers), makes him a grappling hook and a Fenton thermos, and reluctantly lets Damian come with in his old LoA uniform that he appeared in (with some tailoring and ghost-proofing, because he has since begun to grow out of the uniform).

(and Danny himself also finally starts looking into alternatives to improve his own "suit" - which is all but a hoodie and reinforced jeans and a hockey mask. He needs to set an example to his little brother, goddammit.)

Then, as they're planning for Damian's eventual (dreaded on Danny's part) debut, they sit in their shared room and brainstorm for what to call Damian. "Ellie already uses the name Spirit." Danny says, sitting criss-cross at his desk with the eraser nub of a pencil chewed between his teeth.

(Behind him he has an investigative corkboard set up -- his accident left him with the ability to see ghosts not capable of being seen on the visible plane. 'Stereotypical' ghosts. Between school work, his social life, and ghost fighting, some of his downtime is spent figuring out ways to help them move on. His most recent is a cold case.)

(Bc with Danny, I loove to have him have some sort of trait that ties him in with his original counterpart. Nature vs Nurture and all that. Investigative work can be part of that.)

"What about Wraith?" Damian suggests from the floor, leaning against the bed frame while he goes over one of his english books. They've been practicing his reading and writing.

Danny furrows his brows. "A ghost seen typically shortly after or before someone's death?"

Damian nods. "Yes, it's of a similar cadence to 'Batman and Robin'."

"What's with you and your thing with Batman and Robin?" Danny asks with a playful half-smile, Damian shrugs and looks at his books. Danny sticks the eraser back between his incisors. "Phantom and Wraith... that works, though."

The first night out together, Danny fusses over Damian, making sure every bit of uniform was secured and in place -- something Damian took mild offense over. His outfit was far more reinforced than the juvenile get-up that his older brother wore.

But he let him fuss anyways. It made him loved.

"Now remember, Wraith--"

Damian interrupts him: "Yes, I know, Dany. Avoid and distract. Stay situationally aware. I fear that is something I should be telling you, however. Mother would have your head if she ever saw what your training was like."

(It was, not for the first time, that Damian wondered how his,,, "mother",,, would react if she ever met Danyal. Not good, he knows.)

Danny's shoulders sag, and he sighs. "I believe that, what with that super-secret spy--"

"Assassin."

Danny sends him a half-hearted chagrined look, "Assassin," he corrects, "organization that made you. I'm sure I'd give your mother an aneurysm." When he's finally okay with whatever make-believe issues he found with his suit, Danny reaches for the nearby side table and carefully slips on a black domino mask over Damian's eyes. It was thin, flexible, and made with some kind of material that Danny reassured was environmentally safe.

("Some kind of matieral that Wayne Industries invented awhile ago, Sam bought it for me." Danny told him when he first showed it to him.)

It was also cold. But the chill was made up for, slightly, with Danny's warmer hands smoothing it out over his skin, and ridding of any ridges that could form. Damian isn't sure entirely what Danyal did to keep it stuck onto his face, but when he touches it with his fingers he feels a very faint seam at the edge, and it doesn't budge against his hands. It felt like a second skin.

"There we go." Danny smiles, pulling his hands back. He still looks nervous. "It's not the same as my hockey mask," which sat atop his head, ready to be pulled down, "but I think a domino mask will work better for you considering your background."

He was right, a hockey mask would only hurt Damian's peripheral vision. This mask was thin enough that it didn't.

"Ready to go, Wraith?"

"After you, Phantom."

+++

Damian has much issue with Danny's suit. He can think of a million ways to make it better. It is one of the things he and Samantha Manson can get along with, and the few times they have spent time together they have brainstormed suit ideas. He knows that since Danny took him on as Wraith, he has started to look into better suit alternatives.

However. They are both aware of the same thing:

Danny is not Batman, nor Superman, nor Wonder Woman, nor Aquaman, or the Flash, or Green Arrow, or Nightwing, or any single hero on the public roster. He is also not rich like Lex Luthor or Vlad Masters or Bruce Wayne himself.

He has no money and no contacts, and thus, no way of properly improving his suit to be something even half as safe as the other supers.

And he refuses to let Samantha Manson help him find a way to fix that - even with all that money, Samantha Manson is on an allowance from her parents, and also, despite her other range of abilities, not capable of getting those materials without putting herself on a list of some sort. They are at a standstill.

Damian knows this, because he has asked.

Until one day when Danny is talking about a case he is working on and telling Damian about old adventures he had in the Ghost Zone, does he see his brother get hit with a lightbulb.

He slaps a hand against his forehead and straightens up from his swivel seat. He huffs a laugh, "Of course! Why didn't I think of it sooner?" And he turns on his heel and hurries to his bookshelf, pulling down a notebook and flipping open to an empty page.

Damian frowns, "Laeazir?"

"I know you don't like my suit, Damian," Danny says, striding over to his desk and snatching a pencil out of a cup. He begins jotting something down on the notebook. "And there's nothing I can really do about it because, well, I'm poor in comparison to my facesake, and I don't have the resources to get my hands on someone who would make me a new suit."

"Yes, we have talked about this..." Damian nods slowly, still frowning, and trying to follow his brother's line of reasoning.

Danny shoots him a megawatt, half-tilt smile, his hair tied up into a half-bun. "But! I was thinking about it from the wrong angle. I don't have the living resources to help me get a suit, but..." he trails off, staring at Damian intently.

It dinged in Damian's brain to where he was going, "But you have the undead resources instead." He says, his eyes widening slowly. Of course, of course! Danyal was ridiculously charismatic by accident, and Damian has seen plenty of times where his heart-of-gold had one or two non-hostile ghosts be incredibly grateful to him.

His brother makes a loud, 'ding-ding-ding!' sound, pointing his pencil at Damian as his smile stretches further across his face. In a few quick strides, he was sat down next to Damian and showing him his notebook. "Correct! When I first started out as Phantom a few years ago, I managed to help a ghost who called herself Taylor, and apparently she was a seamstress both in and out of life."

Damian watches as Danny writes the name at the top of the paper, and creates bullet-points down the page. "She said that in return for saving her, I should come find her in the Ghost Zone if I ever need clothes made for me. It's a one-time thing, but I was thinking that she could perhaps help make me a new suit."

Danny turns a bit pink at the ears, and rubs his neck, "I never thought much of it because I didn't think I'd ever go into the Ghost Zone, or ever need ghost clothes, so I forgot about it up until now."

A scoff forces itself out of Damian's mouth, but he is smiling. "Danyal, you are the smartest idiot I have ever met."

For the next hour, both he and Danny make a bullet point list of what both of their suits would need. Reinforcement in certain areas, gauntlets with reinforced knuckles to replace Danyal's jawbreakers. A different weapon than a bat.... a utility belt, reinforced boots. Anything they could think of.

It was Damian's idea to add a cloak to both of their suits, asymmetrical and torn at the edges for a more 'ghostly' look. They have a theme, after all. It's quite fun.

Then Danyal calls up Sam for help in drafting up design ideas. And while Danyal steps mostly to the side when it comes to the design itself, Damian and Sam fill pages with designs until coming up with one they both agreed on and like.

"What about a lightning bolt on the chest?" "Why are we using my traumatic accident as a symbol of my identity?" "Ghosts do it all the time, Danny. Ember sings about her death." "I'm not dead?" "No that won't work, Manson. Shazam already has a giant lighting bolt emblem." "Okay, but I still want to use it somewhere." "How about this?" "...That could work. Okay, now onto your emblem--"

Last was the hard part: getting into the Ghost Zone without the Fenton parents noticing the disappearance of their precious Fenton Specter Speeder. They employed Jazz's help with that. She would get the Fentons out of the house long enough for him and Danny to get into the ghost zone, hopefully find the seamstress, and cash in that favor.

They went through with their plan that following weekend. Danny tossed Damian a small jumpsuit as they both climbed into the specter speeder, but did not grab his own. He had a small duffle bag on him that he threw under the seat.

"What is this?" Damian asks, nose scrunching up at the gaudy picture of Jack Fenton's face square at the center of the chest. He held it far away from it, as if it had a disease.

"Your hazmat suit." Danny replies, settling himself into the driver's seat as the door hissed shut and he began turning it on. He had some sort of gas mask on in his lap, too small to fit Danny's head, but certainly the right size to fit Damian's. "Normally you wouldn't need it since you'd stay in the speeder, but we're both getting out once we find Taylor. It's to protect you from the ectoplasm."

A scowl forces itself across Damian's face, "You don't have one." He points out, finding seat in the passenger chair next to Danny. His arms cross over his chest, and he was not pouting.

Danny looks at him amusedly, "I have enough ectoplasm in my body that I don't need one, you however, do not." He retorts, poking a finger into Damian's ribcage pointedly. "If you don't put it on now, you'll put it on when we find Taylor."

Damian's scowl deepens, feeling petulant as he sunk into his chair. Danny turns back to the console and flips a few more switches. "I will not, it looks ridiculous." He turns it around to show Danny the Jack Fenton Face.

The Specter Speeder hums to life, and there's a moment of turbulence as it lifts off the ground. While it does, Danny turns back to him blankly, stares at the emblem, and then reaches forward and yanks it off with a scriiiiich of the emblem. He crumples it up with one hand, and throws it into a small bin at his feet.

"There, fixed." He smiles. Then turns back to the controls, taking the yoke with both hands. "And I'm calling Dad Rights; you will put it on when we find Taylor or you'll stay in the speeder."

Damian sputters, sitting up incredulously. "You are not my father." He argues.

"Teeechnically, I am." Danny says, "I'm a clone of your father, and since I am fully his clone, that makes you my son by a technicality." He says cheerfully, pushing the specter speeder forward and into the swirling green portal.

Before Damian can retort, they're passing through the portal. This was his first time going into the Ghost Zone, and for a few seconds there was nothing but bright, swirling green filling his vision. His body felt like it was being twisted and pulled, his up and down reversing and returning. It was painless, but dizzying.

It only lasts for a few seconds, but it feels like a minute, and when they exit out the other side, Damian is holding his head while his vision spots and swims. Internally, he felt like those cartoon characters when their eyeballs rolled around in their head.

The dizziness fades away slowly, and as Damian regains his sight, he notices Danny's hand splayed over his sternum, gently keeping him pressed against his seat. It fell away when Danny saw that he was alright.

"Put your seatbelt on," Danny orders, nodding to his chair. Damian listens absently, before remembering their conversation before they went through the portal.

"That is not how it works." He scowls, and, annoyingly, only gets a challenged eyebrow raise from Danny. He could see the words written on his face without Danyal ever having to say it.

Because, dangit, he was technically right. Damian refuses to say this aloud. He screws his jaw shut, and crosses his arms back across his chest.

Danny chuckles under his breath, and turns his eyes back to the ghost zone. "My point still stands, either you wear the suit, or you don't leave the speeder."

"Fine."

+++

They eventually find where the seamstress is. Through quite a lot of Danny stopping to ask questions with any friendly ghost he came across, they eventually locate an island with a strange, urban city bustling with life on it. Massive, rocky stalagmites grew from the ground, and buildings were built on top of it or around it, with strange, warping architecture.

It was oddly beautiful.

Danny parked the speeder on the side of the street with a two hour parking sign on a nearby post. As he turned off the engine, he flipped a switch on the console that darkened the windows. He unbuckles his seat, and stood up, stretching out his back with a deep groan.

"Alright, put your suit on. The windows are tinted, so nobody should be able to see into the speeder." He orders, pulling out the duffle he brought in earlier and unzipping it. He pulls out his hockey mask and the hoodie he wore out for patrol, and the notebook they'd been using to jot down ideas for their suit.

Danny even had the hindsight to write in their respective heights, and with Tucker's help, some of their measurements. While he did that, Damian sourly pulled on his hazmat suit, irritated by the need to wear it.

Unfortunately, he also had to wear the boots and gloves for 'extra precaution'. Damian nearly bites out a grumpy 'you're as paranoid as father', but holds his tongue. He wasn't going to tell Danyal that secret.

Once he was done and Danny has his hockey mask and hoodie on, Danny grabs the gas mask and helps fit it over Damian's face. It was a sleek, simple design, shaped similarly to a regular face mask, with little filters on both sides of the mouth and a clear, protective covering around the eyes and forehead. Danyal improved it from the original his parents made.

He was smarter than he gave himself credit for.

Danny checks, then double checks that it the mask is tight, then smiles. Patting Damian's shoulders before standing up fully. "Taylor's shop should be somewhere nearby." He says, grabbing the notebook and tucking it under his arm.

Damian nods, and follows him out the door and onto the busy streets.

Finding Taylor becomes remarkably quick now that they were inside her city - something that Damian silently wondered was based loosely off NYC. Danny kept a firm arm around Damian's shoulders the entire time they walked down the street, keeping the both of them on the inside sidewalk.

Barely anyone passed them a second glance, spare the few odd looks shot at Damian. Danny whispers to him the first time it happens that it's because he has no ghost core, those more attune to their signatures might've been picking up on it.

They didn't notice Danny, because he had one, albeit a weak one.

Taylor's shop has a big sign on it in logographic writing that Damian has no idea how to read. The text shifts slowly, a jambled squiggle of lines, dots, and connected curves that look like a mix of messy cursive, gibberish, and logographic alphabets. He only knows its Taylor's shop because Danny pulls them towards it, stating that it was the place.

"You can read that?" He asks, incredulous as they draw closer to the door. Danny moves his arm off his shoulder, and wraps his fingers around Damian's instead.

"Yep," He replies, then scrunches his nose up, "sort of. It's - uh--" he stumbles over a word that Damian's ears cannot comprehend, but fills his head with slight static regardless. Danny winces. "It's the written form of ghostspeak, but since I'm not a ghost, I can only read some of it. Like uh, dyslexia."

"...I see." Damian says after a moment of silence, trying to replay the word in his head. His mind can't grasp the sound.

When they enter, the door doesn't ding with the sound of a bell, but rather it makes a low scream. Nobody bats an eye to the sound, keeping to their slow search through the racks of clothes.

At the counter was a woman talking quietly to another woman, one of whom Danny recognizes, as he walks over to her.

He doesn't need to say anything, because the woman behind the counter sees him coming, and her face positively lights up with delight. "Phantom!" She cries, and gestures to come over. "I was wondering when in the high ancients you were going to come see me!"

Danny's face is obscured by his mask, but Damian knows he's smiling sheepishly with the way he tilts his head and the way he tenses his shoulders. "My bad, Miss Taylor," he says, reaching the counter and standing beside the woman she was talking to, "It kinda... slipped my mind."

Taylor waves her hand dismissively, "Well you are here now!" She replies, grinning wide. Then her eyes pop open - literally - and she puts a hand over her chest. "Oh, how rude of me!" She turns and gestures between Phantom and the lady next to him, "Miss Mabam, this is Phantom. I told you about him a couple of years ago. He saved me from humans. Phantom, this is Gigi Mabam, she funds my shop. In return I make clothes for her and her staff."

The 'Gigi' woman turns just as Danny does, and smiles wide at him. Damian narrows his eyes at her, shuffling behind Danny legs as he looked her up and down. She had silvery-white hair and purple skin, and wore a darker purple business suit, a red gem cravat at her collar, and teal cat-eye glasses.

There was a lot of purple.

"So this is the ghost-touched you were telling me about, dear!" The woman, Mabam, said. Her voice was rich and low but she spoke in a whimsical cadence. It made Damian's skin crawl, and his narrowed eyes turned into a glare. "I must thank you for saving my seamstress, it would've been quite a fizzy-wink if she had been lost to those ghosty hunters."

What were those nonsense words? Damian hated it.

"Miss Mabam here runs a five-star hotel nearby," Taylor explains, her body turned to Danny, "she also is in charge of the city's Battle Nexus."

Danny is silent for a moment, and his free hand lifts and places itself on the back of Damian's head, keeping him close. "Battle Nexus...?"

Mabam claps cheerfully, laughing low, "Oh yes! Ghosts from all around the zone come to attend and watch as their fellow haunties are ripped from limbity-limb in a blood-curdling battle!"

Danny is still as stone. "I see." He says, careful. Damian wraps his fingers around his pant leg. "Well, I hate to interrupt your conversation, but I was hoping to cash in that favor, Miss Taylor?"

"Of course! What do you need?"

Danny looks down at Damian, and he looks up at him, locking eyes with the ominous green glowing from the eyeslits of his mask. He nods, and Danny looks back up. "Do you know how to make suits? Of the protective kind?"

+++

The seamstress it turns out, is capable of such a thing. And she ushers the both of them into one of the backrooms, sending off Mabam with a farewell and a promise to continue their conversation soon.

She flips through their design book, and immediately gets to work making their suits. In the end, with the help of her powers, she gets both done over the span of four hours. It's longer than both Danny and Damian want, but neither rush her.

Damian just hopes that Jasmine can keep the Fenton parents distracted for that long. She will have to.

The suits are better in real life than on paper, and Damian preens from the side in his own custom suit as Danny examines his own in front of the three mirrors. They were both dressed in all black, but whatever fabric Taylor used was of a blackest-black, turning Danyal - and Damian's - bodies into a black hole to look at. Both of them were fitted for agility, with reinforced padding around their shoulders and chests, as well as around the joints of their legs. Their boots were reinforced as well.

("It was hard to make your boots shock absorbent," Taylor explains, "since we all fly, but I applied similar stuff to what I did with your shoulders and chestplate.")

On the side of Danyal's legs were raised, black, lichtenberg-like figures that were contained to the seams and disappeared under his boots. There were similar designs going up his sleeves, with spiked gauntlets wrapped around his lower arm and hands. The knuckles were reinforced, just like he wanted.

Damian's favorite parts were their capes, however. Black like the rest of the outfit, but "wrapped" around their shoulders like an apocalyptic shawl with a back that went down to their knees, and at the hems the capes were torn and ripped like a wraith. Danyal's mask had gone through very little change. It was made of a stronger material, and Taylor had gone and made it more skull-like in its shape, with three large grills at the front, and the sides curving inward below the 'cheekbones' of the skull to better fit his face. It was still shock white, the only white part of Danyal's entire costume.

Damian's suit was almost identical. However, rather than having the seams of his suit resemble lichtenberg figures, the seams of his sleeves and upper torso were that of a black skeleton, with bone-y designs over his gauntlets and the fingers an ombre of dark red-to-black. And around his torso were raised lines that looked similar to a ribcage. The edge of his cloak was splatter a dark red as well. And he had a new domino mask that looked similar to the upper half of Danyal's mask, with the outer edges curved downward over his cheekbones. He was briefly allowed to take off the upper part of his gas mask to try on the mask.

The best part however, was that since the suits were made of material native to the ghost zone, they could also be taken off quickly and hidden in a small artifact. It was magic, is what it was. Danyal chose earrings, and Damian chose a ring.

When they got back to the Fenton house, Jazz demands a box of chocolate for her hard work. Damian thinks that's only fair as Danny takes them both out to get candy for Jazz.

+++

But other than vigilante stuff, not else much changes. Danny gets to pull a "Dad By Technicality Rule" card over Damian when he's being a brat. Danny doesn't have his run in with Rift (a ghost who portals him into Gotham) until after he meets Damian/lets Damian join him on patrol and when they get new suits.

My reason? Because I want it to happen after that point in time lol. It also makes the eventual "heyyyyy you have a clone" @ bruce much funnier to me because not only does he have a clone of HIMSELF but also THAT clone has a clone of Damian living with him.

Also when Danny destabilizes for the first time Damian is terrified for his safety. The fentons are surprisingly good at cloning, Danny hasn't had any issues up until this point in time, and that's only because he got hit with a new gun from Skulker that messed up the ectoplasm he had in his dna, which in term fucked with his own DNA.

Danny's destabilization, imo, is not "I cast you with Melt" he's not Ellie, he's not made of 50% ectoplasm. His parents surprisingly knew what they were doing, and he was human. So his destabilization should be unique to himself and different. Thus his destabilization is "I cast you with Compromised Immune System" his body slowly weakens over time as his cells destabilize. He becomes unnaturally frail and sick. Damian calls Ellie for help when Danny doesn't get up after being hit in a fight that he normally, and Ellie helps figure out that he's destabilizing. This is whats gonna happen in OG clone au too, but Ellie is going to be there rather than Damian.

It makes going to Wayne Manor after that slightly more interesting,,,

[pixeltwix]

{The Disconnect & The Spiral}

(I realize this isn’t my usual content, but hear me out, the rekindled GF fixation is going hard rn)

- -As an avid fan of Gravity Falls and an even bigger fan of the tragic old man lore packed into the mystery trio, I honestly gotta say..

I refuse to believe this is the full story towards WHY Fiddleford and his wife had a whole blasted argument over…him forgetting to get her a Christmas present?? Upon reading this section, I can frankly say I had a similar reaction to Ford. The immediate sense of, ‘really? That’s it? Your family reunion was torn up over that?’

I mean- your husbands been gone for lord knows how long, your young son also hasn’t seen him in ages, and let’s be honest- with how much trauma the ole hillbilly is stacking up on a day to day through his adventuring with Ford, how often is he actually able to call home or write a letter with a sound mind?

It just doesn’t feel feasible that a man who started this journey so troubled and in yearning to return home to family would be so forgetful as to not scrimmage up not even a souvenir or postcard from Gravity Falls for his family. So what is it then? Perhaps he’s become so averse to everything in the small town he wouldn’t dare bring a trace of it home with him, or rather, he truly had forgotten some small one off promise he made. Perhaps he’s forgotten a lot by this point-

Because of lack of dates on a majority of his entries it’s a little difficult to put together a timeline of when Fiddleford finished his memory wipe gun and when he started using it. By all means he racked up a lot of memories he wished to forget in the beginning being as quote ‘weak minded’ as he is. But then of course we all know he becomes addicted to quite literally erasing every little inconvenience until of course the end result. The freedom of a clear mind outweighing all consequences for him.

Instead however I choose to believe these were the first persisting side effects of his machine. We know enough about it now to get the fair suggestion that even one use of the memory wipe gun can be more damaging than can truly be discerned, so seeing as he quite possibly has used it at least twice by now- both events he used them for being extensive (the shifty incident and the gremloblin incident cited in journal 3) I believe it only fair to assume this quoted argument he got into with Emma-May was hardly over one measly little present. True, we have no frame of this woman much less the rest of the family (minus what we get of Tate once he’s grown), but I am TRULY giving her the benefit of the doubt in believing her husbands mind has begun to scatter in ways he didn’t even realize. So much to the point that a fight possibly fueled by ‘it’s not just about the Christmas present, it’s about ————“ would truly confuse him

I say that in the kindest way, I love Fiddleford, truly he’s the most tragic character in my mind regarding this story, but the man’s self destruction and drift from his family had to have started somewhere. And just like any addiction that can tear a family apart, this one was definitely packing punches. I realize I don’t have much backing, and I’m really just rambling some nonsense, but Alex Hirsch just doesn’t feel like one to write a one off ‘oh by the way this silly reason is why Fidds is alone from his family for the holidays, something he clearly holds a deep fondness for’. Nah, that man is too cryptic for him to write something like that and for me to not overthink it <3

(But with all that said and done- dear god the snow globe cabin and the knitted six fingered gloves literally killed me- that hillbilly is such a damn sweetheart, it can almost make me ignore the doom that will befall him and the town <3!!)

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

Tintin through time! 

Thought it would be fun to have my various designs for Tintin in one post. The canon comics have a floating timeline and Tintin never ages. I think rooting him in a specific time and context makes him feel a little more real (also I am a sucker for historical fiction). Click below for a potted timeline and notes about each design!

Left to right, top to bottom:

Child - in my timeline Tintin was born in 1915, a year into the First World War. He was probably picked on a lot by his peers for being small, ginger and slightly effeminate, and was picked on by adults for being “difficult” and asking too many questions.

Early canon - He leaves school early and becomes a reporter at 14. He’s unhinged, he’s blasé, he dresses like Spongebob. Coming right out of Catholic school he has a lot of unhealthy beliefs he needs to confront and unlearn. I imagine his editor is a pretty shady person as they are willing to send this kid off to dangerous places. His naivety prevents him from spotting any red flags at first.

Late canon - Tintin as we know him! His journalism career is at its peak at the tender age of 17. He’s found a family and stability at Marlinspike. His politics are evolving. He is, however, pretty neglectful of his own personal life, almost fully focusing on his career. He’s starting to grow wary of his editor and they frequently argue, Tintin often winning out as he knows it’s his articles that sell papers.

Young adult - With the Second World War breaking out this is an unstable time in his life. He’s come to terms with being gay but is fired from his paper after being forcibly outed. Tintin and the Marlinspike team take fighting fascism into their own hands. 

For his design here he wears a turtleneck like Captain Haddock, glasses like Professor Calculus (also representing a renewed perspective on things) and his hair is more relaxed like Chang’s! The idea was to show how he has been impacted by the people he cares about. 

After the war ends he struggles with unemployment and burnout, insecure that he might have peaked as a teenager.

Middle aged - It’s the late 50s - early 60s, Tintin is jaded and cynical but still kind and willing to help others. He is absolutely horrified by the events of WW2 and carries an enormous sense of guilt, feeling he didn’t do enough. His faith in journalism has also been thoroughly shaken, witnessing the spectacular failing of the system himself, and realising there are people who genuinely do not care for the truth, and are only concerned with power. 

Elderly - if he somehow makes it to old age he’d be a chaotic little old man who doesn’t give a Single Shit. It’s the late 80s and early 90s, at this point he has retired from journalism and has published his own books, and has taken to becoming a full time political activist (here he’s wearing an AIDS awareness ribbon from 1991, in the 70s Herge had Tintin wear a helmet displaying a symbol for nuclear disarmament). Kids adore him, cops hate him! 

He has taken to technology, being an early adopter of the Internet and desktop computers. He and Chang have since been able to reunite with Chang’s family and they often spend time with Didi’s grandkids!

I don’t know what would kill him. Old age? A car bomb? Maybe he falls over badly and bangs his head one last time. I don’t think it’s my place to decide.

[oval3000]

Chapter 5

Yandere Teacher Nanami x Student Reader

Warning: Abuse, (force) smut. Abduction, violence, rough play, toxic behavior, age gap, everything from all above. Mainly from his point of view...somewhat... modern au- ish idk. College teacher x student.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 6

-------------------------------------------------------

"Mr. Nanami?" A man in a suit knocked on his classroom door. Nanami was grading some paperwork before his next class. He turned to the side and saw the man alongside some police officers." I hope we're not interrupting you? I'm detective Aki, this is officer Yamada and officer Fujikawa. We want to ask questions about one of your students, (Y/N)."

"Sir." Nanami stood as the man and two police officers entered, closing the door. Nanami knew this day would come. How could he not know? "Of course. Miss (Y/n) hasn't attended my classes for the past month.

"That's why we're here. Her friend had filed a missing person's report on her and we just want to know if you may know anything regarding her disappearance." The detective said.

"The last time I saw her, was when she was sitting on one of the campus benches. I asked her if everything was alright and she told me she was waiting for her ride." He explained. " She seemed a little down and mentioned something about an ex-boyfriend. I've dealt with many of my students who were dealing with hard breakups so I didn't think too much of it."

"Ex-boyfriend?" The detective said.

"Yes. I don't know his name it was never said, but she did mention an ex-boyfriend and by the look of it, it's not something she seemed happy about." Nanami looked at the detective as he jotted down what he was saying.

"Was she acting strange while attending your classes before her disappearance? Did she seem a little down?" Aki asked.

"No. She was a normal student. In fact, she was my best student. Although she had trouble with one assignment, she would stay after her classes for help. Other than that, she was fine. However, I am a teacher with many students, so I might've not pay too much attention to her because of the others, who might be in the same position as her. College is college. Nothing changes." Nanami fixed his glasses and sighed. "Her family must be worried sick if she hasn't shown up." Nanami asked, almost looking a bit sad.

Aki raised his eyebrow. "Have you noticed her disappearance?"

"I did at first. She never missed a class ever. Then again. I have many students who don't bother showing up for months."

"Why is that?" He asked.

"They want to give up. Math is too hard. Struggling with mental illness. I've been working here for ten years, I've seen at all." Nanami sighed, looking down at his papers. "Sadly, no matter what I do, I can't always fix their problems when it's out of my reach. I should've asked Miss. (Y/N), about what was bothering her that day. That was my mistake."

Aki looked at Nanami, who still kept a normal composer. "So her disappearance wasn't too strange for you?"

"Like I said, at first it did. Then again, it's not the first time a student stopped showing up here. I guess I was wrong about that." Nanami raised his eyebrows. "Has anyone seen her since then?" He asked so concerned.

"No, we're working on a timeline on who might've. So far, you're the last person who has seen her. However, no one mentioned an ex-boyfriend before." Aki tapped his little notepad with his pen.

"Oh. it makes sense now." Nanami scratched his head.

"What makes sense?" Aki questioned.

"When she mentioned the ex-boyfriend, it went like this." He hummed, " 'My ex-boyfriend is a jerk who only thinks about himself. We were hardly boyfriend and girlfriend since we dated for three months.' It was confusing to me. I don't know what these young adults think now about relationships; now there is a thing called situationship' or whatever it's called. Every day, I hear students talk about their 'situationship'—are they boyfriend and girlfriend? I don't know what kids are up to these days." He explained. "I was puzzled because, aren't boyfriend and girlfriend, boyfriend and girlfriend? Now, I realize, it must've been one of those situations where you're just with a guy, just cause, with no title. Now it makes sense why it's called situationship'. Either way, it can still break someone's heart. Maybe that's why no one mentioned him; it didn't seem like what they saw was a relationship. Nonetheless, for Miss (Y/n), it must've been more than that, but it was overlooked."

"Did she mention anything about this ex-boyfriend or lover she had?" The detective asked, jotting down as much information as he got.

"No. She was on her phone during the little conversation we had so it was cut short. I swear those kids are always on their phones like they're addicted to them." Nanami picked up his papers and hit them on the desk countertop to straighten them in place. He checked his watch and saw the time. "My next class is about to start. Is there anything I can help with?"

The detective closed his notepad, "No that'll be all for today. Thank you, Mr. Nanami." He shook his hand and headed his way out alongside the two officers.

"Oh! Please tell (Y/N)'s family my condolences. She's one of my students here. Hope she's found soon." Nanami said.

The detective gave him a sympathetic smile, "Sadly, her parents died recently, in a car accident. I'll tell her friend though, she's worried sick about her."

Nanami went back to teaching his class. He went on to be a normal regular teacher. He saw the detective and two officers roaming around, talking to other students and teachers. He kept his usual face and went on with his day. He would hear his colleagues about you, how they're saddened that you just vanished.

Some came up and spoke to Nanami since you were in his class, and he gave them the same type of response he gave to Detective Aki. When he got into his car, he drove off.

He went on to run some errands really quickly and got some snacks and a beverage. He went and decided to stop by a public library and started to use the public computers and continued to do some paperwork and make new homework and test assignments.

He looked at the time got up from his chair, logged off, and walked away from the library building. He got back in his car and drove off to a food place.

He ordered a meal for himself and ate in his car while grading more of his paperwork. When the sun was completely gone, he went to a copy, and fax machine place that was open 24 hours and started to make multiple copies before heading his way home near midnight.

He did this routine for 3 weeks. 3 whole weeks. 3 torture weeks for him.

The day he saw a man getting arrested on the college campus with Detective Aki and the two officers, his 3 whole weeks ended.

He got out of work, he went on to the library, and used the computer for some time. He went to an electronic store and bought himself a new computer. He got into his car and drove home.

He opened the door that was inside the garage and placed the store bag on the kitchen counter.

He walked upstairs and opened the bedroom door. "Sorry, I'm late. Work has been chaotic." He stared at you with your eyes glossy and the rag on your mouth. Your hands were still tied up to the headboard. He went towards and touched the rag and pulled it out. " Sorry about this, sweetheart. It was just a precaution. On the good news, they arrested that ex-boyfriend of yours. It wasn't good for him when they saw all the texts he had 'sent' you. Too bad they found your phone on his property."

"P-please...don't hurt me...Please don't hurt me." You cried to him.

He grabbed your cheeks with his hand, "Who's your best friend?" When you didn't answer him, he grabbed onto you harder, "Answer me!"

"E-Emi." You told him.

"Well, that Emi bitch made those 3 weeks a living fucking hell for me and I'm not too happy about that, sweetheart." He sighed and let you go. "At first I thought your family was gonna be in my way, but it turns out is Emi. Tell me, what should I do?"

You shook your head.

"You're right. It'll be too suspicious." He got on the bed and laid next to you. "I'm just happy to be with you." He slid his hand down to your body and stopped once it reached your stomach. "It must've been lonely here for you. Tell me something else, do you want some company while I'm gone?"

You felt your body shiver with his touch and talk. "N-no."

"No? You're fine here without me? Because if you ever feel alone, I can change that." He rubbed your stomach.

"I'm fine. I-I'm okay." You pulled your knees up to your chest feeling chills going through your body.

"I love you, I hope you know that." He said, smiling at you. He pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your body. "I'm doing this all for you."

He kissed your cheek, "This is all for love."

SPOILERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Sorry for the long wait! R.I.P to Nanami 😩)

[merymoonbeam]

Possible Elriel plot points for the next ACOTAR book

First of all... I'm not saying this is all true. Just my own observation and link to theories that connect to stuff. So just try to enjoy.

We will go by topic. This is LONG. You have been warned.

1.Crossover

we will divide this into different topics.

a.the timeline

In Hosab Azriel carried Bryce to a house and we had this scene.

He gave no warning as he hauled her over a shoulder and tromped down a set of stairs before entering somewhere … nice-smelling. Roses? Bread? They ate bread in Hel? Had flowers? A dark, cold world, the Asteri had said in their notes on the planet.

We know it is town house. Here is the post that explains it. > Town House

And from Acosf we know that it was supposed to be empty.

“But why live in this dump, when the town house was sitting empty?” (Acosf)

but in Hofas when Rhys comes Bryce is taken to Hewn City prisons.

“What world is this?” Bryce rasped, the words gravelly. After Ruhn’s body double had introduced himself in that lovely, cozy foyer, he’d grabbed her hand. The strength of his grip, the brush of his calluses against her skin had been the only solid things as wind and darkness had roared around them, the world dropping away—and then there was only solid rock and dim lighting. She’d been brought to a palace carved beneath a mountain, and then down the narrow stairs to this dungeon. Where he’d pointed to the lone chair in the center of the room in silent command.

so we dont touch on the topic that the town house that was supposed to be empty is lived in and is smelling of roses and bread. So to me it looks like they are keeping the acotar plots in acotar and cc plots in cc. So they are not gonna reveal who lives in there in another series so...who lives there?

to me it looks like bryce falling into their world will be in the same timeline as acotar5. we will see through elain or azriel's(probably him) point of view what goes down.

b. the horn-fourth dread trove

In acosf we learn what they are.

Cassian nodded into the ensuing silence. Nesta found herself asking, “What’s the Dread Trove?” Amren’s eyes glowed with a remnant of her power. “The Cauldron Made many objects of power, long ago, forging weapons of unrivaled might. Most were lost to history and war, and when I went into the Prison, only three remained. At the time, some claimed there were four, or that the fourth had been Unmade, but today’s legends only tell of three.”

and in the same book we learn there is indeed a fourth one.

A fourth object lay on the altar, veiled in shadow. But she couldn’t make out more than a gleam of age-worn bone—

in hofas we learn that it is the horn. (ngl I hate this bc acosf timeline and hofas timeline of the past doesnt match so sarah def changed some stuff so..........)

And then she took the Trove for herself. Theia sat, enthroned, the Harp and Horn beside her, the Mask in her lap, and the Crown atop her head.

again goes with the whole same timeline thing. we are gonna learn through elain or azriel that fourth dread trove is tattooed on some girl from another world. Again imo this needs to be mentioned bc making dread troves a big part of nesta's book(and making them so dangerous) and in the next book acting as if some other girl having is not important?? doesnt make sense to me.

c. Cauldron and Ramiel

in hofas we learn that Cauldron sits on top of Ramiel.

“The Cauldron,” Nesta said hours later, pointing to yet another carving on the wall. It indeed showed a giant cauldron, perched atop what seemed to be a barren mountain peak with three stars above it. Azriel halted, angling his head. “That’s Ramiel.” At Bryce’s questioning look, he explained, “A mountain sacred to the Illyrians.”

And from Acosf we know that nobody went to look at what lies under ramiel. Sure enough Eris says "secrets". Maybe like daglan secrets???

Eris shrugged, and Nesta knew Cassian monitored his every breath. “There are three of them, you know. Sister peaks. This one, the mountain called the Prison, and the one the Illyrian brutes call Ramiel. All bald, barren mountains at odds with those around them.”

Eris gave him a mocking smile, but continued, “Unsurprisingly, the Illyrians were never curious enough to see what secrets lie beneath Ramiel. If it, too, was carved up like the others by ancient hands.”

and Vesperus says this in hofas.

Vesperus backed up a half step, hissing at the gleaming weapon. “We hid pockets of our power throughout the lands, in case the vermin should cause … problems. It seems our wisdom did not fail us.” “There are no such places,” Azriel countered coldly. “Are there not?” Vesperus grinned broadly, showing all of her too-white teeth. “Have you looked beneath every sacred mountain? At their very roots? The magic draws all sorts of creatures. I can sense them even now, slithering about, gnawing on the magic. My magic. They’re as much vermin as the rest of you.”

What if there is more to under ramiel than we thought? What if its a secret Daglan hideout? I went into detail and what could have inspired it in my Wild Hunt post if you want to read it.

also the red part in thw quote...cue in acowar elain:

Elain only turned toward the sunny windows again, the light dancing in her hair. “Will I hear the earthworms writhing through the soil? Or the stretching of roots? Will the bird of fire come to sit in the trees and watch me?”(acowar)

we learn that Asteri corrupted the Cauldron in hofas. So this come in handy for the whole mating bond topic of this whole post so Im leaving it for that.

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced … those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage.(hofas)

Also we know from acosf that Enalius tried to stop the "enemy" from reaching the stone on top of Ramiel.

Emerie’s eyes shone. “Long ago—so long ago they don’t even have a precise date for it—a great war was fought between the Fae and the ancient beings who oppressed them. One of its key battles was here, in these mountains. Our forces were battered and outnumbered, and for some reason, the enemy was desperate to reach the stone at the top of Ramiel. We were never taught the reason why; I think it’s been forgotten. But a young Illyrian warrior named Enalius held the line against the enemy soldiers for days. He found a natural archway of stone amongst the tangle of boulders and made that his bottleneck. He died in the end, but he held off the enemy long enough for our allies to reach us. This Rite is all to honor him. So much of the history has been lost, but the memory of his bravery remains.”

so probably they were trying to reach cauldron as it was on top of it. Or maybe the ramiel stone as it seems to heal too. I did go into whole detail in the post I linked about wild hunt. also in this one

Also in the first three acotar books we learn about Book of breathings.

In acomaf we learn that book of breathings was made to control the cauldron.

“When the Cauldron was made,” the carver interrupted, “its dark maker used the last of the molten ore to forge a book. The Book of Breathings. In it, written between the carved words, are the spells to negate the Cauldron’s power—or control it wholly. But after the War, it was split into two pieces. One went to the Fae, one to the six human queens. It was part of the Treaty, purely symbolic, as the Cauldron had been lost for millennia and considered mere myth. The Book was believed harmless, because like calls to like—and only that which was Made can speak those spells and summon its power. No creature born of the earth may wield it, so the High Lords and humans dismissed it as little more than a historical heirloom, but if the Book were in the hands of something reforged … You would have to test such a theory, of course—but … it might be possible.” (acomaf)

So...only made can use its magic.

Made = Feyre , Nesta and Elain

And later in the book we learn that the book is written in Holy Tongue—Leshon Hakodesh.

She stared and stared at the Book—as if it were a ghost, as if it were a miracle—and said, “It is the Leshon Hakodesh. The Holy Tongue.” Those quicksilver eyes shifted to Rhysand, and I realized she’d understood, too, why she’d gone. Rhysand said, “I heard a legend that it was written in a tongue of mighty beings who feared the Cauldron’s power and made the Book to combat it. Mighty beings who were here … and then vanished. You are the only one who can uncode it.” (acomaf)

Mighty beings: Daglan/Asteri

and in hofas we learn that...It is written in the language of the asteri.

Amren turned to Rhysand and said in that new, strange language—their language: “The glowing letters inked on her back … they’re the same as those in the Book of Breathings.” (hofas)

Bryce's tattoo is in the holy language.

And later in hofas Rigelus says that it was his people's language.

“I can teach you things you’ve never even dreamed of,” Rigelus promised. “The language inked on your back—it is our language. From our home world. I can teach you how to wield it. Any world might be open to you, Bryce Quinlan. Name the world, and it shall be yours.”(hofas)

So the book of breathings can control cauldron and it can "open any world" to who can wield it.

and in the first crescent city book...the book of breathings is in crescent city world. In jesiba's library.

Micah loomed over her. She stretched her arm out—toward the shelf. Her tingling fingers brushed over the titles. On the Divine Number; The Walking Dead; The Book of Breathings; The Queen with Many Faces …

do we need book of breathings back as it was mentioned it is in the language of the asteri?

Also in acowar we learn that cauldron has void in it.

when Feyre broke the Cauldron void was coming out of it.

I managed to stand. To take one step before I felt it. The … thing in the Cauldron. Or lack of it. It was lack and substance, absence and presence. And … it was leaking into the world.I dared a step toward it. And what I beheld in those ruins of the Cauldron… It was a void. But also not a void—a growth.It did not belong here. Belong anywhere. (acowar)

And then this reminded me of what Apollion said about void in hosab

The darkness paused. “You are impertinent as well. Do you not know where I come from? My father was the Void, the Being That Existed Before. Chaos was his bride and my dam. It is to them that we shall all one day return, and their mighty powers that run in my blood.”

@silverlinedeyes made a post about Void and Elain connection awhile back (that’s where my fascination with the void comes from lololl) > The void post

in Hofas we learn that Daglan/Asteri made the Cauldron a kill switch.

“Once we left our home world, our powers began to dim. Too late, we realized that we had been dependent on our land’s inherent magic. The magic in other worlds was not potent enough. Yet we could not find the way back home. Those of us who ventured here found ways to amplify that power, thanks to the gifts of the land. We pooled our power, and imbued those gifts into the Cauldron so that it would work our will. We Made the Trove from it. And then bound the very essence of the Cauldron to the soul of this world.” Solas. “So destroy the Cauldron …” “And you destroy this world. One cannot exist without the other.”

So in hofas we learned about thin places...

“No,” Aidas agreed. “But Helena knew that Midgard possessed its own magic. A raw, weaker sort of magic than that in her home world, but one that could be potent in high concentrations. She learned that it flowed across the world in great highways, natural conduits for magic.” “Ley lines,” Bryce breathed. Aidas nodded. “These lines are capable of moving magic, but also carrying communications across great distances.” Like those between the Gates of Crescent City, the way she’d spoken to Danika the day she’d made the Drop. “There are ley lines across the whole of the universe. And the planets—like Midgard, like Hel, like the home world of the Fae—atop those lines are joined by time and space and the Void itself. It thins the veils separating us. The Asteri have long chosen worlds that are on the ley lines for that exact purpose. It made it easier to move between them, to colonize those planets. There are certain places on each of these worlds where the most ley lines overlap, and thus the barrier between worlds is at its weakest.” Everything slotted together. “Thin places,” Bryce said with sudden certainty. “Precisely,” Apollion answered for Aidas with an approving nod. “The Northern Rift, the Southern Rift—both lie atop a tremendous knot of ley lines. And while those under Avallen are not as strong, the island is unique as a thin place thanks to the presence of black salt—which ties it to Hel.” “And the mists?” Hunt asked. “What’s the deal with them?” “The mists are a result of the ley lines’ power,” Aidas said. “They’re an indication of a thin place. Hoping to find a ley line strong enough to help her transfer and hide Theia’s power, Helena sent a fleet of Fae with earth magic to scour every misty place they could find on Midgard. When they told her of a place wreathed in mists so thick they could not pierce them, Helena went to investigate. The mists parted for her—as if they had been waiting. She found the small network of caves on Avallen … and the black salt beneath the surface.” (hofas)

It is long but what we get from this is that

Ley lines are used for moving magic and...communication between worlds

Ley lines are joined by time and space and void

The mist is a big give away for thin places

you get the point. this all seem to be connected. thin places-cauldron-void. I talked more about this in this post

d. the middle and fionn

fionn died in the middle.

The image shifted to some sort of marsh—a bog. Fionn rode a horse between the islands of grass, bow at the ready as he ducked beneath trees in bloom. My parents often went hunting in the vast slice of land the Daglan had kept for their private game park, where they had crafted terrible monsters to serve as worthy prey. It was there that he met his death. A dark-haired, pale creature that could have been the relative of the nøkk in Jesiba’s gallery dragged a bound and gagged Fionn into the inky depths of the bog, the once-proud king screaming as he went under. Horror rooted Bryce to the spot. Theia and Pelias stood at the water’s edge, faces impassive. Petals began falling from the trees. Leaves with them. Birds took flight. As if sudden winter gripped the bog. As if the land had died with its king.(hofas)

Acowar elain

Devlon let out a grunt at the sight of her. But Elain wrapped her own blue cloak around herself, averting her eyes from all of those towering, muscled warriors, the army camp bustling toward the horizon … She was a rose bloom in a mud field. Filled with galloping horses.

Acosf the middle

Islands of grass dotted the expanse, some so crowded with brambles that he could find no safe place to land. The tangles of thorns were a mockery of what might have been—as if Oorid had ever produced roses. Not a single flower bloomed.

Hofas bog when fionn died

Fionn rode a horse between the islands of grass, bow at the ready as he ducked beneath trees in bloom. My parents often went hunting in the vast slice of land the Daglan had kept for their private game park, where they had crafted terrible monsters to serve as worthy prey. It was there that he met his death. A dark-haired, pale creature that could have been the relative of the nøkk in Jesiba’s gallery dragged a bound and gagged Fionn into the inky depths of the bog, the once-proud king screaming as he went under. Horror rooted Bryce to the spot. Theia and Pelias stood at the water’s edge, faces impassive. Petals began falling from the trees. Leaves with them. Birds took flight. As if sudden winter gripped the bog. As if the land had died with its king.(hofas)

So elain and the middle???

Also another point is...the avallen island was like the prison island because Helena hid 1/3 of theia's power there and once bryce claimed that power...the island went back to what it was.

Helena had bound the soul of this land in magical chains. No more. No more would Bryce allow the Fae to lay claim over anything. “You’re free,” Bryce whispered to Avallen, to the land and the pure, inherent magic beneath it. “Be free.” And it was.

It was no longer gray and thrashing, but a vibrant, clear turquoise. And rising from the water, just as they had seen on the map Declan had found, were islands, large and small. Lush and green with life. Forests erupted on the island they stood on, soon joined by mountains and rivers.

So what if fionn did the same before he died? What if the middle is the way it is bc before he died...he bound himself to it so the magic of the land was bound?

And we need elain to free the land? As bryce did to avallen?

also Fionn's death goes so well with lightsinger describtion in acosf. also it ties to pelias.

Me and @silverlinedeyes have theorized before that Pelias might have been a lightsinger in this post.

In hofas we learn that Fionn died like this:

The image shifted to some sort of marsh—a bog. Fionn rode a horse between the islands of grass, bow at the ready as he ducked beneath trees in bloom. My parents often went hunting in the vast slice of land the Daglan had kept for their private game park, where they had crafted terrible monsters to serve as worthy prey. It was there that he met his death. A dark-haired, pale creature that could have been the relative of the nøkk in Jesiba’s gallery dragged a bound and gagged Fionn into the inky depths of the bog, the once-proud king screaming as he went under. Horror rooted Bryce to the spot. Theia and Pelias stood at the water’s edge, faces impassive. Petals began falling from the trees. Leaves with them. Birds took flight. As if sudden winter gripped the bog. As if the land had died with its king

Lets break this down...

Fionn and his close people. One of them is his lover and the other is his general

In the bog

Asteri private game park

The last thing he sees is their faces after they betray him

Now how this ties to Pelias and Lightsingers...

This is how lightsingers are described in acosf:

“There are lightsingers: lovely, ethereal beings who will lure you, appearing as friendly faces when you are lost. Only when you’re in their arms will you see their true faces, and they aren’t fair at all. The horror of it is the last thing you see before they drown you in the bog. But they kill for sport, not food.”

Now lets break this down...

Friendly faces

Bog

For sport...not food... private game park

The last thing you see is their faces

Another point is...Silene and Helena both have shadow and starborn power. so them getting the starborn from theia and shadow from fionn makes a lot of sense.

So fionn's death being similar to lightsinger describtion when fionn could have shadow powers...like azriel who is a shadowsinger...you know what I mean? kinda weird lol.

lightsinger gwyn theory @silverlinedeyes made wonderfull posts about it. You can find them >> Part1 and Part2

I have some lightsinger theories too if you want.

Gwyn’s song and Cauldron’s song(lightsinger theory)

Azriel bonus chapter “settled/settling”(Lightsinger theory)

Azriel’s Bonus Chapter “glowed quietly”(Lightsinger theory)

Acosf Chapter 52 - Lightsinger Theory-Sirens

Glow=Power(lightsinger theory)

e. wild hunt being released?? 

In cc3 bryce said this:

“I think it’s what the Prison—the island in the Fae’s home world—once was. When Theia ruled it, I mean. Before Silene fucked it all up. Maybe they’re linked in some way through being thin places and spilled over to each other a bit. Maybe back in that other world … maybe I woke up the land around the Prison, too.”

Maybe I woke up the land around the Prison too

And we know that Silene captured Daglan's pet in prison. 👀

One after another, I hunted monsters—the remaining pets of the Daglan—until many of the lowest rooms were filled with them. Until my once-beautiful home became a prison. Until even the land was so disgusted by the evil I’d gathered here that the islands shriveled and the earth became barren. The winged horses who hadn’t gone with my mother to Midgard, who had once flown in the skies, playing in the surf … they were nearly gone. Not a single living soul remained, except for the monstrosities in the mountain.

And from acosf we know that Lanthys was one of them and he was in...Wild Hunt.

“Oh, I do not think so,” Lanthys seethed. “I rode in the Wild Hunt before you were even a scrap of existence, witch from Oorid. I summoned the hounds and the world cowered at their baying. I galloped at the head of the Hunt, and Fae and beast bowed before us.”

So if bryce did indeed woke up the land around prison that means it could be all crumbled like it was in avallen. Are the inmates going to be free? Are the wild hunt going to be in acotar5? Are we getting a full on wild hunt plot?

Also this goes well with the books being in the same timeline so what happens in cc affects acotar in a bad way.

f. Gwydion and Truth-Teller

They are white and dark light—Alpha and Omega.(I have a post about this) which came true lol. my best theory....

The male drew it, and Bryce flinched, but—“What the fuck?” The knife could have been the twin of the Starsword: black hilted and bladed. It was its twin. The Starsword began to hum within its sheath, glittering white light leaking from where leather met the dark hilt. The dagger— The male dropped the dagger to the plush carpet. All of them retreated as it flared with dark light, as if in answer. Alpha and Omega. “Gwydion,” the dark-haired female whispered, indicating the Starsword.

And whats important is that with her power bryce can unite them to open a portal to nowhere.

Polaris’s eyes widened as Bryce plunged the blades into her chest. And as those blades thrust through skin and bone, the star in Bryce’s own chest flared out to meet them. It collided with the blades, and both sword and knife blazed bright, as if white-hot. The light extended up through Bryce’s hands, her arms, her body, turning her incandescent— Into a star. A sun.

that portal to nowhere is...void.

A portal to nowhere. To a black hole. Wasn’t that the unholy power that Apollion possessed? The power of the Void. The antithesis of light.

so this connects with Cauldron and it having void in it too.

as bryce collects Theia's power that was parted into three parts she starts to realize it is taking a touch of darkness...

Bryce rolled her eyes, but for a heartbeat, Hunt wondered if Thanatos was right: Bryce had explained how the prism in the Autumn King’s office had revealed her light to now be laced with darkness, as if it had become the fading light of day, of twilight—

And we go to that scene...

With a prayer to Cthona, she sent twin beams of light arcing around the prisms, shooting straight into them.Twin bursts of that light flared from either prism, gunning for each other. Bands of light falling into darkness, her power stripped to its most elemental, basic form. They shot for each other, and where they met, light and darkness and darkness and light slamming into each other—Bryce stepped into the explosion in the heart of it. Stepped into her power.It lit her up from the inside, lit up her very blood. Her hair drifted above her head, pens and papers and other office detritus flowing upward with it. Such light and darkness—the power lay in the meeting of the two of them. She understood it now, how the darkness shaped the light.

And the purple highlighted part...it is exactly the same as the six pointed star.

Ithan angled his head. “A six-pointed star,” he said. Like the one Bryce had made between the Gates this spring, with the seventh candle at its center. “It’s a symbol of balance,” she explained, moving away a foot, but keeping the dagger at her side. Her crown of cloudberries seemed to glow with an inner light. “Two intersecting triangles. Male and female, dark and light, above and below … and the power that lies in the place where they meet.”

And if we go by the elriel scene...

Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade. I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife.

Can you see the connection?

Also that elemental part in bryce's scene. we learn about that in acosf.

Cassian forced himself to sit perfectly still as Rhys dragged a hand through his black hair. “Once, the High Fae were more elemental, more given to reading the stars and crafting masterpieces of art and jewelry and weaponry. Their gifts were rawer, more connected to nature, and they could imbue objects with that power.”

could that be important in acotar? Having elemental magic?

also...TT can unmade things. could this come in handy in mating bond plot?

“The Starsword is Made, as you called it.” He waved an idle hand, sparks at his fingertips. “The knife can Unmake things. Made and Unmade. Matter and antimatter. With the right influx of power—a command from the one destined to wield them—they can be merged. And they can create a place where no life, no light exists. A place that is nothing. Nowhere.”

and now we have both of them in Acotar.

Nesta lifted her head. “So?” “So I want you to take the Starsword.” Bryce held the blade between them. “Gwydion—whatever you call it here. The age of the Starborn is over on Midgard. It ends with me.” “I don’t understand.” But Bryce began backing toward the portal, taking Hunt’s hand, and smiled again at the female, at her mate, at their world, as the Northern Rift began to close. “I think that eight-pointed star was tattooed on you for a reason. Take that sword and go figure out why.”

as we all know...Elain already used TT.

But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had. Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.”

And we know from Bryce that knife has some kind of shadow powers.

Bryce threw her power into the Starsword, light ripping through the black blade, willing it to tear this fucking monster apart—She willed it into Truth-Teller, and shadows flowed—

elain...shadow...as I mentioned above fionn possibly had shadow powers as well. So it all connects. Because Fionn had Gwydion. Enalius had TT. it all seems to line up.

okay we are done with crossover part. I think. I added as much as I could. moving onto another topic.

Im adding narben as a topic here bc we dont have much to go on but I made a deep dive for it in this post from myth connections and all if you want to read it.

Also side not...narben means scar. Azriel's scars....thats all your honor.

2. Beron

But no one had been able to decide which was the bigger threat for them: Briallyn and Koschei, or Beron’s willingness to ally with them. While the Night Court had been trying to make the peace permanent, the bastard had been doing his best to start another war.

What’s better way to star a war over a female who is a cauldron made seer and also his son’s mate but doesn’t want to be with him?

And from Azriel bonus chapter we know that Blood duel is an autumn court tradition.

“Oh, I can, and I will. If Lucien finds out you're pursuing her, he has every right to defend their bond as he sees fit. Including invoking the Blood Duel.” "That's an Autumn Court tradition." The battle to the death was so brutal that it was only enacted in rare cases.

rare cases: for a cauldron made seer

Cassian said, “So we’ve got them on one front, and Beron here, ready and eager to go into war with Briallyn so he might expand his own territory after the carnage halts.”

he wants to expand his territory

Cassian unpacked each word. Beron had tortured his own son for information, rather than thanking the Mother for returning him. But Eris had held out. Fed Beron another lie.

The male had been raised with every luxury and privilege —on paper. But who knew what terrors Beron had inflicted upon him? Cassian knew Beron had murdered Lucien’s lover. If the High Lord of Autumn had been willing to do that, what wouldn’t he do?

Beron is so power hungry that he tortured his own son and he killed his son's lover because she was lesser-fae?

What would he do if he learns that Elain rejected the bond with Lucien because of a lesser-fae(illyrians are lesser fae)?

He already wants war and this would be his reason.

and we know from eris that Beron might as well make a new allience with Koschei after Briallyn is dead.

“Maybe not.” Eris shifted on his feet, and grimaced again. “But you and yours have more important things to think about than ancient history. My father is furious that his ally is dead, but he’s not deterred. Koschei remains in play, and Beron might very well be stupid enough to establish an alliance with him, too. I hope that whatever Morrigan is doing in Vallahan will counteract the damage my father will unleash.”

so...beron. lol.

3. Koschei

Elain already had visions about him in acowar.

Elain shifted her face toward him. Another blink. “They sold her—to … to some darkness, to some … sorcerer-lord …” She shook her head. “I can never see him. What he is. There is an onyx box that he possesses, more vital than anything … save for them. The girls. He keeps other girls—others so like her—but she … By day, she is one form, by night, human again.” “A bird of burning feathers,” I said. “Firebird by day,” Rhys mused, “woman by night … So she’s held captive by this sorcerer-lord?” Elain shook her head. “I don’t know. I hear her—her screaming. With rage. Utter rage …” She shuddered. Mor leaned forward. “Do you know why the other queens cursed her—sold her to him?” Elain studied the table. “No. No—that is all mist and shadow.” Rhys blew out a breath. “Can you sense where she is?” “There is … a lake. Deep in—in the continent, I think. Hidden amongst mountains and ancient forests.” Elain’s throat bobbed. “He keeps them all at the lake.” “Other women like her?” “Yes—and no. Their feathers are white as snow. They glide across the water—while she rages through the skies above it.”

and in acosf we learn that Koschei wants free of his lake but we don't know his other plans

“And all Koschei wants is to be free from his lake?” Rhys asked Azriel. But Amren answered. “No one really knows the full scope of the Trove’s powers. Beyond freeing him from his lake, Koschei may very well know something about the Trove that we don’t —some greater power that manifests when all three are united.”

and he might know things about the trove that nobody knows.

And in hofas we learned this about the harp:

She gave us what protection her magic could offer, transferring it from her body into our own using the Harp. Another secret she had learned from her long-ago masters: that the Harp could not only move its bearer through the world, but move things from one place to another—even move magic from her soul to ours.

Move things from one place to another—even move magic from her soul to ours

and in most koschei tales there is a thing about his...death.

The most common feature of tales involving Koschei is a spell which prevents him from being killed. He hides "his death" inside nested objects to protect it. For example, his death may be hidden in a needle that is hidden inside an egg, the egg is in a duck, the duck is in a hare, the hare is in a chest, the chest is buried or chained up on a far island. Usually he takes the role of a malevolent rival figure, who competes for (or entraps) a male hero's love interest.

maybe he wanted the dread troves for the purpose of his death? Can I bet that koschei moved his "death" from his body using the harp?

Also in that elain quote from acowar elain mentions a box.

While rereading the acotar books I noticed something.

Book of Breathings is described as a box.

The box would be heavy—and cold. Who are you, who are you, who are you— I flexed my fingers and cracked my neck. I am summer; I am sea and sun and green things. “Come on, come on,” Amren murmured. Above, water trickled over the stones. Who are you, who are you, who are you— I am Tarquin; I am High Lord; I am your master. The box quieted. As if that were answer enough. I snatched the box off the pedestal, the metal biting into my hands, the power an oily smear through my blood. An ancient, cruel voice hissed: Liar. And the door slammed shut.(Acomaf)

The box—the Book—was silent. Then it said, Like calls to like. “Open,” I gritted out. Unmade and Made; Made and Unmade—that is the cycle. Like calls to like.(Acomaf)

And we have Koschei's onyx box which we know from Elain. And koschei is a...sorcerer.

Elain shifted her face toward him. Another blink. “They sold her—to … to some darkness, to some … sorcerer-lord …” She shook her head. “I can never see him. What he is. There is an onyx box that he possesses, more vital than anything … save for them. The girls. He keeps other girls—others so like her—but she … By day, she is one form, by night, human again.” (acowar)

so what if it is not a box but a book???

4. Mating bond

Since acowar this has been a question. There are a lot of theories and idea about how sarah would go with this. True mates. Two mating bond. Some of us think elriel has carranam bond... There is so many theories

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports—likely information on the Autumn Court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all. Already dressed for the Hewn City—the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it. “Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?” “I’d keep that question from Lucien.” “I’m serious.” I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “What decides it? Who decides it?”

Feyre was the first to question the mating bond between Elain and Lucien. This scene is important because she is questioning the mating bond while looking at Azriel and Elain.

And we again see in the bonus that azriel questions the mating bond.

Rhys's power rippled through the room like a dark cloud. "I’m talking about you, about to kiss Elain, in the middle of a hall where anyone could see you," he snarled. "Including her mate." Azriel stiffened. Let his cold rage rise to the surface, the rage he only ever let Rhysand see, because he knew his brother could match it.  "What if the Cauldron was wrong?"

And we see through out the books that Elain and Lucien are not even getting closer. Both of them are uncomfortable with the mating bond.

He hadn’t mentioned Elain, or his proximity to her. Elain had not asked him to stay, or to go. And whether she cared about the bruises on his face, she certainly hadn’t let on.

Elain, at least, would be too polite to send Lucien away when he wanted to help. She was too polite to send him away on a normal day. She just ignored him or barely spoke to him until he got the hint and left. As far as I knew, he hadn’t come within touching distance since the aftermath of that final battle.

“You’re welcome to stay for the night,” I said, since Elain certainly wasn’t going to. Lucien lowered his hands into his lap and leaned back in the armchair. “Thank you, but I have other plans.” I prayed he didn’t catch the slightly relieved glimmer on Elain’s face.

“Why are you here?” Cassian asked, unable to help the sharpness. “Where’s Elain?” “I am not always in this city to see my mate.” The last two words dripped with discomfort. “And I came up here because Feyre said I should. I need to kill a few hours before I’m to meet with her and Rhys. She thought I might enjoy seeing Nesta at work.”

He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings. Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.

Also I mentioned above how TT can unmade things...so can it unmade a mating bond? also it ties into Cauldron too bc....as we know it is corrupted by the asteri. @offtorivendell made a post about how asteri might have messed with mating bonds.

Also lets not forget this iconic quote.

Azriel stiffened. Let his cold rage rise to the surface, the rage he only ever let Rhysand see, because he knew his brother could match it.  "What if the Cauldron was wrong?"  Rhysand blinked. "What of Mor, Az?"  Azriel ignored the question. "The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another." He had never before dared speak  the words aloud.

I'm gonna drop a few mating bond theories in here if you want to read it. Elain and Lucien mating bond is a spell by @icedflames

True mates theory by @silverlinedeyes

mating bond and bridges by @silverlinedeyes with my reblog.

@offtorivendell has many posts about mating bond you can find it here

Would a mate know, would a mate feel— by me

“Through love, all is possible” by me

5. Elain and Azriel’s powers

as I mentioned above...fionn could have a shadow power like azriel.

This is just a speculation but in hofas Silene gave this information.

My mother eventually trusted only Helena and myself to seek the truth. She knew we could be of great use to her, because we bore the shadows as well as starlight.

Helena and Silene both have shadow and starlight power.

Theia= starborn

So they got the starlight power from Theia. They must have gotten their shadow power from Fionn then? Bc he is their father.

So this made me think...in mythology fionn is a seer.

Fionn mac Cumhaill often anglicized Finn McCool or MacCool, is a hero in Irish mythology, as well as in later Scottish and Manx folklore. He is the leader of the Fianna bands of young roving hunter-warriors, as well as being a seer and poet. He is said to have a magic thumb that bestows him with great wisdom. He is often depicted hunting with his hounds Bran and Sceólang, and fighting with his spear and sword. The tales of Fionn and his fiann form the Fianna Cycle or Fenian Cycle (an Fhiannaíocht), much of it narrated by Fionn's son, the poet Oisín.

So what if...fionn in acotar was also a seer? What if that's how elain and azriel are also connected?

Bc that would mean...

Fionn: a seer and shadow powers

Elain: a seer

Azriel: shadowsinger

Is that how they are connected? Is that how elain could use the tt? 👀👀

Bc we know tt and gwydion are twin to each other. And Gwydion was Fionn's sword. Tt was his friend's—Enalius.

And in acowar elain used tt. Maybe bc that's the reason why. Maybe being a seer has some kind of connection to it. Just like being a starborn is connected to wielding the gwydion and its powers.

But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had. Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.”

And we know from Bryce that knife has some kind of shadow powers.

Bryce threw her power into the Starsword, light ripping through the black blade, willing it to tear this fucking monster apart—She willed it into Truth-Teller, and shadows flowed—

As we know Elain is a seer. But there is more to her powers than just being a seer.

@wingedblooms made a post about how when it's mentioned it's always in plural form. >> Elain’s Powers

And with her seer powers she can be a good spy and we can see that Sarah hinted this acosf.

“You came,” Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends.

the red part I highlighted in this has a parallel with Azriel you can find the post here >> azriel/elain parallel

And we know that N+C are trained by Azriel.

Amren, at least, knocked this time before entering. Nuala and Cerridwen, who had finished setting combs of mother-of-pearl into my hair, took one look at the delicate female and vanished into puffs of smoke. “Skittish things,” Amren said, her red lips cutting a cruel line. “Wraiths always are.” “Wraiths?” I twisted in the seat before the vanity. “I thought they were High Fae.” “Half,” Amren said, surveying my turquoise, cobalt, and white clothes. “Wraiths are nothing but shadow and mist, able to walk through walls, stone—you name it. I don’t even want to know how those two were conceived. High Fae will stick their cocks anywhere.” I choked on what could have been a laugh or a cough. “They make good spies.” “Why do you think they’re now whispering in Azriel’s ear that I’m in here?” “I thought they answered to Rhys.” “They answer to both, but they were trained by Azriel first.”

another thing is that we know azriel is good at keeping secret and here we have feyre pointing out elain has him beat

Feyre smiled. “Elain was the only one who guessed. She caught me vomiting two mornings in a row.” She nodded toward Azriel. “I think she’s got you beat for secret-keeping."

also now that we have crossover with CC books, there are mystics and it looks like Elain's seer powers and mystics are very similar one another. I talked about that in the post that I'd linked. Also with Elain's seer powers I made a theory about how the timeline could work if Sarah took inspo from a poem from the Norse Mythology called Völuspa. Another thing is there is a magic called Seidr in Norse mythology which I think Sarah might have of gotten inspiration for Elain's powers. It also connects with Vassa(and a little bit crossover) and her possible plotline.

I think this is all I got.

if you read this much....THANKS.

bye now. :)