#but yet Hope gets treated like trash when it comes to her feelings

[winnie-the-monster]

You ever think about how in one way or another Hope has been grieving her whole life. And then get even more disgusted(and in my case just the tiniest bit murderous)at how she was treated in legacies when it came to her grief. Bc I do all the time. If they weren’t dismissive of it and how she feels, they were acting as if there was some type of time limit on grief. Like Hope has been grieving the loss of her loved ones since she was seven. She deserved to be treated better than that, and not have people tell her “it’s called grieving, Hope, you should try it sometime” or “this is good, this is letting go.”

[foone]

Idea: interspecies TF but it doesn't go like a werewolf movie, over in seconds or minutes, but like HRT.

Every morning you look in the mirror, pulling your mouth open to get a better look at your canines. Is it just you or are they a little bigger?

You turn your head sideways, seeing how much your face is stretching into a snout. You occasionally catch yourself looking at your hands, seeing how the skin on your palm is hardening into pawpads, how the tips of your fingers are stretching, your nails coalescing into claw tips.

You spend a while looking online at r/TFtimelines/, looking at other furries with a mix of envy and lust. God, you hope someday you can look a tenth as monstrous as them. You look up doctors in your area to see their ratings for bottom surgery (which is getting a tail), and wonder if your insurance will cover it.

It's not all physical changes, of course. You're noticing how your emotional state is shifting. You're staring at spreadsheets at work, in need of another coffee, and you have that thought again of just running into the woods. Your clothes seem tight and restrictive on you, and you know it had nothing to do with the fact you've gained 5 inches in height over the last year. It's more to do with feeling you shouldn't need to wear this business formal nonsense, you should be covered in fur and hanging out in the lonely woods, not in a crowded office moving numbers around for your boss.

Ugh, your fucking boss. It's getting harder to not listen to him talk without inadvertently thinking about what it'd feel like to rip his throat open with your teeth, and leave him as a warning for the others not to mess with the wolf...

Not that you'd ever do such a thing, of course... But those pills you're taking every morning have been waking up millions of years of instinct that are saying "this supposed leader is weak and ineffectual and doesn't deserve your loyalty. Kill him. Take his place, or his poor leadership will get you all killed when the winter comes."

You sigh, and keep typing on the keyboard. One day you'll come out to these anthrotypicals. You'll be recognized for the mighty wolf you are, and they'll stop treating you as just another human.

You make a note to email HR about that "I'm a human" CAPTCHA they put on the company's website. They don't know, of course, but they should be more considerate. Not everyone wearing a pantsuit and operating a boring Dell computer is a human, after all.

You glance at the clock and think about getting dinner once this slog is over. You'd been a vegetarian before starting your transition, but there's a new steakhouse that's opened up on your walk home, and every time you walk past it, you keep thinking about biting into a nice steak... Rare, of course. It's probably just the smell. You can smell so much better now, and from what you've heard from others, it's only going to get better.

Well, better is relative. You've learned the downside of having a better sense of smell. It's sometimes unbearable walking to work on Wednesday, when everyone has their bins out. So much rotting food and spoiled milk and bacteria festering in all those cans waiting for the trash trucks.

It gets better once you're in the office. The AC kills a lot of the smell. But now you can tell exactly how many days it has been since your coworkers have showered, and you'll never look at Simon from accounting the same way again.

And it was a bit of a faux pas (or should that be a faux paw, ha!) when you congratulated Cindy on the baby she was expecting... She hadn't told you yet. She hadn't told anyone yet, other than her spouse, but you forgot that it wasn't as obvious to everyone else.

You don't know how that can be overlooked (oversmelled?). The hormones are all different. Was there really a time in your life when you couldn't smell this? Huh. You can't remember anymore. This is your new normal. You've come farther than you think. You should have taken more pictures at the start, so you could compare them to now, but it was so hard to look at yourself then. You looked so... Human. Ugh.

It's getting easier to look at yourself in the mirror in the morning. Your fur is coming in. Your body is changing in so many ways. You're finally starting to look like you.

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 5 (18+)

a/n: happy tuesday. hope you all had a great christmas or whatever holiday you celebrate. here is my gift to you!

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Bang Chan.

[ read chapter four here ]

Chapter Five: Of Mirrors and Lessons

The entire ride back home, Chan keeps his hand on your thigh, sometimes resting, sometimes gently squeezing. You couldn’t possibly forget the fact that you’re sitting in a car with him, but his touch serves as a constant reminder that he’s there without feeling overbearing. It actually soothes you, which should be concerning. However, since it doesn’t seem like you’ll get any outright form of compassion from him, maybe you have to learn to appreciate these subtle gestures.

Back at the house you and Charlotte clean up the basement while the other girls work on dinner. You gather up the empty pizza boxes and paper cups into a large trash bag as she works on wiping down all the surfaces. You hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to her much prior to this, but you can tell she’s the quiet, introvert type. 

When you ask, she tells you things with Han and Jeongin are going well. You hold in your surprise when she says Han hasn’t tried anything with her yet, but she and Jeongin had made out a few times—one of which you saw last night. 

Her words make you curious what everyone else has been up to. You’ve only had one night with Hyunjin where all you did was kiss, but your two nights with Chan had been filled with far more intimate acts and barely any kissing. Were the others taking things just as slow? 

You finish cleaning and hoist the trash bags up the stairs. Felix and Changbin spring up from their seats at the table when you two emerge from the basement. They take the bags from you and put them outside.

Hyunjin is the only one missing when it’s time to eat—he has an evening class tonight. Chan eats in the living room, watching a baseball game with Seungmin. You eat in the dining room next to Felix and even after you’ve cleared your plates, you continue talking to him. He shares information with you freely and it’s a bit of a relief. His minor is in Game Design and Development, his dad and Chan’s dad are extremely close, so they grew up together before venturing to the states. You’re invested in what he’s saying—you really are, but you keep catching yourself being distracted by the dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. They give him such a boyish charm, especially when he smiles, that’s directly contradicted by the amount of bass in his voice. 

Your phone buzzes and you check it, seeing a text from Chan. A wave of nerves flow throw your body as you open it. 

Chan

waiting for you

You put your phone face down on the table. You know what’s coming next. He told you this afternoon. You don’t know what to expect. You do at least know that you shouldn’t expect rose petals and candles for your first time with him. If there are candles, he would probably be using them to drip wax over you. You panic at the thought. You don’t know what he’s in to, but you’re learning. It’s not difficult to believe he may like some kinky stuff, though. For now, all you know for sure is that he likes to exercise his control over you. 

You hate to keep thinking of your ex in uncertain moments like this, yet you can’t help it. You simply can’t imagine him speaking to you or treating you the way Chan does sexually and you just allowing it to happen. Chan has a specific presence or aura, if you will, that asserts dominance and you’re growing more and more attracted to it. No matter how much you want to resist. 

You’re startled at the feel of a hand on your shoulder. You turn to look at Felix, his chestnut brown eyes pouring out concern.

“You alright?” He asks in his low voice. 

“Yeah,” you reply with a light chuckle, not wanting to worry him. “I’m gonna head upstairs now.”

He squeezes your shoulder a few times and nods.

The walk upstairs feels like a death march. You’re moving slowly, trying to mentally prepare yourself for whatever is to come. 

Chan is sitting on the edge of his bed, facing you. You’re leaned against his dresser, naked after he asked you to remove your clothing. He still has his clothes on, which you can’t even think is unfair because what’s the point? Fairness doesn’t exist with him. You can’t even bring your arms up to cover yourself. So you stand there, watching him watch you, neither of you speaking. 

You wonder what’s going through his head right now, because all you can think of is how much you want him to touch you, to cover your bare body with his. You don’t know if it’s right to yearn for him after how he’s treated you—or is that the very reason you do?

After what feels like slow, painstaking hours, he stands from the bed and walks to you. He places his hands on either side of you on the dresser, caging you in. 

“Do you want me, y/n?” He finally breaks the silence, lowering his head to look you in the eyes. 

What kind of question is that? You do, don’t you? You know he doesn’t mean in the way he’s had you the last couple of days, he means actually fucking you this time. But will he be rough? Will it be painful? Will you like it? Your sexual experience is rather vanilla, so the thought is just as thrilling as it is frightening. What if it’s bad? What if it’s good? 

You lick your lips and slowly nod your head. 

He smiles down at you before moving forward to capture your lips with his. It’s a slow and passionate kiss. You tell yourself all his unspoken words are bottled up in it—that he doesn’t mean to make you feel awful, that he chose you for a reason. 

“Take my shirt off,” he says when he pulls away from you. 

Your grab the bottom of his shirt and lift it up and over his head. You drop it on top of your pile of clothes, never taking your eyes off him. 

He takes each of your hands in his at the wrist and places your palms on his chest. He slowly guides them down his pectorals, his abs, all the way down the ‘V’ shape of his lower abdomen that leads into his loose fitting sweatpants. His skin is soft and the muscles beneath it feel solid against your fingertips. 

He moves one hand lower than the other, to the waistband. You curl your fingers around it and he pulls your wrist back. He now pushes your other hand lower and you slip it into the sweats. All you feel is skin—he’s not wearing any boxers. He releases your wrists and puts his hands back on the dresser, swooping down to kiss you again as your fingers wrap around his already hard cock. 

It feels good to have him back in your grasp. You stroke him as he deepens the kiss, his tongue snaking inside your mouth. You bring your other hand up to cup the back of his neck, pulling him harder against you. You can’t kid yourself—you want to give yourself to him. You want to know what it feels like to have him inside of you. 

As if reading your thoughts, he breaks the kiss. 

“Turn around,” he says.

You waste no time in doing as he bids. 

You’re now facing the mirror attached to his dresser. His arms are still around either side of you, flexed and deliciously toned. He’s looking at you through the reflection. It’s the first time you’e seen yourself next to him. Your first instinct is to feel inferior, but with him this close, and you enclosed in his arms, you can convince yourself it feels and looks right. 

He stands up straight and places his hands on your hips, squeezing them. His hands slide up and down your side in a way that tickles, causing you to move away from his touch. His lip quirks up at you through the mirror. 

His hands cup your breasts and you watch your reflection. It almost feels as if you’re removed from the scene—watching for a separate type of pleasure. His gaze is fixed on your body as he plays with your nipples. You can’t help but move your hips back against him. 

He pushes your breasts together with one hand as the other slips down to your pussy. You immediately move your feet a little further apart to which he chuckles. 

“Chan,” you breathe as his hand finds its home between your thighs. “Be good to me tonight.” 

Your words come out as a soft plea. 

He responds by kissing you on the cheek as his fingers slowly slide back and forth across your pussy. You don’t know what to make of that response. He’s proven himself to be good at being a sour patch kid—sour then sweet. Or sweet then sour in his case, actually. 

He pushes down his sweatpants and slowly lowers you down so your chest is pressed against the dresser. He takes a moment to admire his handy work from the night before, rubbing and squeezing your ass. You keep your eyes locked on his reflection, your breath fogging up the mirror now that you’re so close to it. His hand leaves your ass and moves to his cock, gripping it at the base as he slides it up and down your slit. 

When he’s settled at your opening, his left hand grabs your hip, holding you in place. Your eyes are locked on each others as he slowly slides himself in. You want to squeeze your eyes shut, steal a moment for yourself to revel in the feel of him inside you. But you also want to remember how he looks right now. The way his lip is caught between his teeth, eyes filled with some kind of lust. 

You watch his face intently. He averts his gaze and sucks in a breath as he watches his dick move in and out of you. One hand is still at your hip as the other uses your shoulder for leverage. You prop yourself up on your elbows and push your hips back to meet his thrusts. The side of his mouth quirks up at your movements.

You moan as he starts moving faster, dropping your head to the desk and squeezing your eyes shut.

He doesn’t like that.

You feel his hand move from your shoulder to the back of your head. He tangles his fingers in your hair and yanks your head up. Your eyes snap open just in time to see him leaning down towards you.

“Watch,” he whispers in your ear, “I want you to see how good you look when I fuck you.”

You moan again at his words, looking at yourself in the mirror, watching as your tits bounce up and down with each thrust. He lets go of your hair and uses both hands on your hips to bring you back and forth against him, harder, faster. 

He keeps fucking you, panting and grunting while you watch. As his movement quickens and he grits his teeth, he abruptly pulls out of you, taking a step back. He takes a deep breath and slaps your ass. You don’t squeal, you don’t scream. You moan and look back at him with soft eyes. You want more. 

“On the bed,” he says. 

You step from around him and walk to the bed, turning around to face him when you’re near it. He steps out of his sweatpants and kicks them to the side.

“How do you want me?” You ask. 

“Now you’re being a good girl.” He nods his head with a crooked grin. He places one hand on his cock as he walks towards you, stroking it. “On your back.” 

You sit on the bed and scoot back on it before laying down. He puts his knees on the bed, still stroking himself as he looks down at you. 

“Fuck, y/n,” he groans. 

The way he says it, the way he’s looking at you makes you squirm. You want him back inside of you. He pushes your thighs apart one at a time with his knees and lowers himself on top of you. 

“Hands above your head.”

You put your hands up so they’re resting on the pillows and he holds them together with one hand. With the other he guides himself back into you. Once inside, he moves his hips ever so slowly, in and out. 

He presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing it in teasing circles. You wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles together behind his back. You start to move your hips against him, wanting him to go faster. 

He looks up to you and gives the tiniest head shake. You stop your movements with a soft whine. 

He picks up the pace, watching your face contort with pleasure. Whenever you let out a moan and move your hips against his, he slows back down. He repeats the process, squeezing your wrists together as you try to free them. You want to at least touch him, but he’s too content playing with you. 

He brings himself closer to you, first kissing you, then moving down to your breasts. He takes each nipple into his mouth, in turn, licking, nipping, pulling at it with his teeth while he looks up at you. All the while still rubbing your clit with his other hand each time he pulls his hips back and has access to you. The sight of him ravaging your body is one you hope to never forget. 

The stop and go of all his combined stimulation starts to peak. You tighten your grip around his waist. 

“Fuck me, please. I’m gonna—“ You let out a moan, as he bites down hard on your nipple.

“Ah-Ah,” he shakes his head again, looking up at you with your nipple still between his teeth. He sits up and releases your hands, resorting back to his torturous, slow hip movements, hands resting on your knees. “Remember lesson number two?”

You blink up at him, trying to focus on what he means. It’s hard to think of anything else when he has you this close to release. Lesson two? You think back to your second night and it dawns you.

 “Chan,” you say his name slowly, moving your hands up to his chest. “May I? Will you please make me come?”

He grips your thighs and readjusts them so your legs are on one side of his neck. He lifts you upwards at an angle and wraps his arm around your thighs as he starts pounding in to you with fervor. His other hand continues playing with your breasts. Groping them, slapping them.

“Fuck,” he says as you dig your nails into his arms now that your hands are finally free. 

You watch, enraptured by the sight of him above you. His abs contracting with each movement. His hair disheveled, some of his bangs sticking to his forehead. His skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat. You’ve never seen him look better.

“You wanna come?” He asks.

“Please,” you beg, nodding your head.

“Who do you belong to?” He growls, slapping a hand to your breast and squeezing it.

“You,” you reply without hesitation, flinching at the pain.

“What does that make you?”

“Yours,” you breathe, as you continue to hold yourself back from release.

“Say it again,” he pinches your nipple between his fingers.

“I’m yours,” you whimper, wrapping your hand around the opposite side of his neck from your legs. “I’m yours, Chan.”

“Good,” he says, eyes on yours as he smirks and fucks you. “Come for me, y/n.”

Your back arches as your toes curl. You use all the strength in you to pull him down to you, stealing a kiss as your orgasm courses through you. He doesn’t resist. He doesn’t get upset. You’ve quite literally never been so bent as you are in this position, but you don’t care. Having him kiss you wildly as you come around his cock is absolutely worth it. 

As you’re still coming down from your wave of euphoria, he sits up and pulls your legs apart. He grips one thigh in each hand and continues thrusting into you. You’re moaning—it feels so goddamn good, you could cry. 

He throws his head back, grunting and tightening his grip on your thighs as he finishes. 

His movements start to slow, his breathing turning into soft pants. He lets go of your thighs and lowers himself to you again. He brushes your damp hair back from your face as he looks you deeply in the eyes.

“That was lesson three,” he winks. 

An unexpected laugh falls from your lips and he chuckles, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment. You feel like your heart could soar right now. A genuine laugh shared. 

“Grab on to me,” he says. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and lock your legs around his waist again. He scoots you down on the bed then picks you up, carrying you into the bathroom. You bury your face in his neck, smiling—sex drunk. Happy. Delirious. 

He holds on to your waist as he turns on the shower, keeping you in his arms while the water heats up. There’s no light on in the bathroom, but his shower head flickers from blue, to green, then settles on red. His hands tangle in your hair again, gently tugging on it to pull your head up from his neck. His eyes search yours for a moment and you have no idea what they’re trying to convey. He pushes your head towards him and kisses you slowly. The kiss is tame and unassuming—it’s not leading up to anything further. It’s just two people temporarily caught in the haze of their connection.

He takes you into the shower with him and leans you against the wall as he continues kissing you, letting the water drip between you. You don’t know how long this high will last, he could go right back to being an asshole in the next minute, so you want to enjoy this version of him as long as you can.

[ read chapter six here ]

a/n: share your thoughts <3

tag list: @iflmho /@skzstaykatsy / @blackhairandbangs / @ayoitschannie / @idunnomanmynamewastaken / @charmer-c / @ihatemen55 / @channiesprincess / @channniesslefttt / @jiwoos-babygirl / @kayleefriedchicken / @krayzieestay

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven: Christmas for Two

Plot: Away from their families, Jamie and Y/n attempt to do Christmas together.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: f!reader, language, talk of alcoholism, child abuse/neglect

A/N: A little Christmas in July/Phil Dunster Emmy nomination gift for you all! I have no clue what the timeline on s3 is, but this felt like a good place to put a Christmas chapter. I also did my best to combine English and American Christmas traditions/vernacular, hopefully did okay. Hope you enjoy!! 🎄❤️

—————

The coach’s office was a mess of ribbons and wrapping paper.

Ted gasped as he opened the box sat in his lap, “You are kiddin’ me.”

Stood in a corner of the room, Y/n beamed.

“C’mon now,” Ted pulled out the bottle of American barbecue sauce, “Where’d you find this?”

“Specialty store in Chiswick,” Y/n replied, “I was there seeing if Britain had finally caved and brought over Ben and Jerry’s. Spoiler alert: they have not.”

Ted was grinning ear to ear, “Man, this is special. Thank you, Y/n.”

On their traditional half-day of work on Christmas, the AFC Richmond staff were holding their party. Gifts were exchanged and treats were eaten. One room over, the Greyhounds were having their own celebration.

“Yes, I think you’ve got us all beat for gifts,” Rebecca said from her corner, sniffing one of the tea bags in the collection Y/n had gifted her.

“Not true,” Y/n held up a finger before holding up the spa certificate Rebecca had just handed her. “I just know the power of American barbecue.”

“And yet,” Beard held out his hands in expectation, “None for me.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, knowing how happy he actually was with the philosophy book she’d found him.

“So,” Ted drummed his hands on his desk, “What’s everybody’s plans for today?”

“The Higgins’ door will be open and ready to receive any and all weary travelers,” Higgins volunteered, “I believe most of the boys are coming.”

“I’ve got dinner with Nora and Sassy,” Rebecca said.

“Fun,” Ted said, looking over across the room, “What about you, Roy?”

“Phoebe’s got a pageant at school,” the coach replied, “Fuck knows why it wasn’t last night.”

“Nice,” Ted smiled, “Y/n?”

Y/n exhaled, “Well, my sister couldn’t come over this year, so it’ll just be dinner with a friend.”

“What about your folks?” Ted asked.

“Yeah, uh,” Y/n tried to put on a smile, “They couldn’t make it either.”

“Too bad,” Higgins empathized, “Well, if you and your friend don’t feel like cooking, there’s always room at our table.”

Y/n nodded, “Thanks.”

Things lasted another half hour or so before people began to trickle out, off to their respective plans. Y/n stayed behind, having volunteered to clean up since everyone else’s day was time sensitive. She was just tying the trash bag of wrapping paper when there was a knock.

Jamie hung on the frame that separated the coach’s offices, “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Y/n set the bag in the corner of Roy’s office, “That’ll be Monday’s problem.”

Grabbing her bag of gifts and switching off the lights, Y/n glided past Jamie, who followed behind. They ducked out into the hall, some of the last people in the building.

Christmas was an off holiday for both of them. With the match against Crystal Palace that weekend, Jamie couldn’t get away to Manchester to visit his mom. And Y/n hadn’t lied when she said her sister couldn’t travel to spend the day with her, but she had lied about her parents. They had every opportunity to phone and ask her to come home, or to visit. They just chose not to.

So, with nowhere else to go, Jamie and Y/n had decided to spend the holiday together.

“Are there even any markets open on Christmas Day?” Y/n asked once they were in the parking lot.

“Yeah, I think there’s one near here,” Jamie unlocked his car door. They’d carpooled in the interest of the shopping they had planned after the party.

“I hope you thought right,” Y/n said as she climbed in the passenger seat, “Or else it’s going to be a pretty funky dinner.”

Jamie had, indeed, guessed right. There was one market open for half a day in Richmond for the cooks who’d forgotten that one ingredient. Y/n and Jamie, however, were starting completely from scratch.

“Okay,” Jamie tugged on one of the shopping trolleys and swung it around, “What do we need?”

“Everything,” Y/n stated, “You ever cooked a Christmas dinner?”

“Uh, no,” he replied, “You? We’re fucked if you say no.”

Y/n scanned the rows of aisles, unsure of where to start. “No, I have. It’s just been a while. Like, not-since-America while.”

Jamie puffed out his cheeks, “Right.”

“Okay,” Y/n clapped her hands together, “Turkey. Main attraction. Let’s start there.”

Down the aisle where the entrees should have been, there was an empty case. A few lonesome birds were still chilling, but it was clear all the good ones had been chosen long ago.

“So we’ve either got a fuckin’ Goliath,” Jamie held up a massive turkey in one arm, then the smallest in his other, “Or its baby.”

Y/n crinkled her nose at the colorful description. “I mean, that one’s meant for way more than two people,” she pointed to the first option, “It’s not like we need leftovers.“

Jamie nodded, that was true. Roy had allowed him one cheat day for the holidays, the free pass ended at 12AM, December 26th. But be was determined to enjoy the one meal.

“So the baby?” Jamie held up the small bird.

“If you stop calling it that,” Y/n grabbed the cart, “Yes.”

Jamie laughed cheekily, setting the turkey in the basket. “Right, what else?”

“Stuffing, potatoes, something for dessert,” Y/n listed items off her mental menu. She glanced over at Jamie, “Really hope we can cook.”

They went around the rest of the store, picking leftovers off the barren shelves. Unfortunately, that left either the specialty items or the nearly expired dishes, which was how they ended up with the most expensive potatoes, gluten free stuffing mix and a pudding that was on its sell-by date.

“Who was your secret Santa?” Y/n asked as they passed the wine aisle.

“Dani,” Jamie answered, “Why?”

Y/n stopped and backtracked her steps, reaching for the first bottle of red wine she saw. She’d stopped by the locker room on occasions where the Greyhounds won and had caught a whiff of the strong Mexican liquor Dani favored. A world didn’t exist where she felt like subjecting her stomach to that.

“Smart,” Jamie agreed as she popped the drink in the trolley.

They managed to get in and out quick enough that the only person who recognized Jamie was the cashier, who didn’t do more than wish him luck on the upcoming match. Y/n wasn’t used to worrying about being photographed, but she knew that any time she stepped out with Jamie, there was a chance of it.

As they loaded the bags into the boot of Jamie’s car, Y/n caught one lone present, wrapped and tied with a ribbon, pushed to the side.

“Did you forget someone today?”

“Huh?” Jamie hummed. Y/n pointed to the box. “Ah, no,” he shut the boot before she could get a better look and smirked, “That’s for later.”

Y/n pursed her lips a little, smiling as Jamie walked the cart back to its station.

“Alright,” he said as they got back in the car, “We doin’ this at my place or yours?”

Y/n thought for a second, “Do you even know how to use your kitchen?”

“Course I do,” Jamie paused a second, “I mean…pretty sure.”

“Uh-huh,” Y/n chuckled, “My place it is. That, or we ask Sam for the keys to the restaurant.”

Jamie backed the car out of its spot, “Think we need to have a bit more confidence for that.”

Y/n agreed silently, before her thoughts fell to the inevitable. A few weeks prior, during the whole Twitter fiasco, Sam’s restaurant had been broken into and destroyed. The night of the Arsenal match, the boys had all gone over to repair it, surprising Sam. Y/n had yet to see it in its restored glory.

“I feel like we got a pretty good handle, though,” Jamie interrupted her thoughts, “We got the meal, the crackers, place’ll be all decorated…”

Hoping his eyes were more focused on the road then her, Y/n grimaced.

“Yeah,” she said, “That’s, uh…”

“What?” Jamie asked.

“I’m not…totally decorated,” Y/n struggled to get out.

“You’ve got a tree at least, yeah?” Jamie replied.

Silence.

Fate bestowed him a red light, and Jamie turned to Y/n with widened eyes. “You haven’t got a tree? The fuck’s wrong with you?”

“I’ve been busy,” Y/n defended the decision, “I’ve barely been home between the away games and working late. There wasn’t much of a point in getting one.”

Jamie let his hand smack against the steering wheel, “Unbelievable.”

“Wha- you don’t have one either,” Y/n argued. There’d been a stunning lack of Christmas cheer in Jamie’s house the last week when he’d been appointed to host the monthly team dinner.

“That’s different,” Jamie put his foot to the gas as the car behind him honked.

“How?” Y/n laughed.

Jamie shrugged, “I dunno. You’re you. Figured you’d be one of those people who’s decoratin’ the day after Halloween.”

In another life, that was her. Y/n had been all over Christmas in her younger years. Every holiday was a speed bump in getting to December 24th and 25th. But once she’d graduated and started her corporate life, it became less and less of a big deal. If it was a year Caylee came to visit, she’d dust off decorations and make a show of it, but it just seemed sad to do it all on her own.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint,” Y/n smiled, ignoring the particular bit of backstory she didn’t feel like sharing.

“You’re not,” Jamie replied as he signaled to get into the next lane, “‘Cause we’re fixin’ this.”

Y/n looked out the window, the turn that would’ve been theirs was drifting further and further away. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Ten minutes later, Jamie was pulling the car into a Christmas tree lot. Or rather, what once was a Christmas tree lot.

“Can’t believe these places are even open today,” Y/n commented as they walked up to the shop.

“They’re here for the sad sacks who wait till the last minute,” Jamie remarked smugly, nudging Y/n’s elbow with his.

Like the market, the lot was sparse. The only trees left were either the type that shed its needles if you breathed on it or the ones that were already turning brown.

“I’m not overwhelmed by our options,” Y/n said, scanning the rows over again.

“Hang on,” Jamie climbed behind one of the half-dead ones, having spotted a flash of green as he’d passed. He pulled out a miniature one that barely went up to his waist.

“It truly is a Charlie Brown Christmas,” Y/n remarked, smiling at the juxtaposition between Jamie’s size and the tree.

“I mean, it is going in the bin tomorrow, innit?” Jamie picked up the glorified shrub and brought it to the poor worker stuck there on Christmas Day. “We’ll take this one.”

“And we’ll just stick it in the car,” Y/n added, catching Jamie’s confusion and whispering, “We are not making him go to the trouble of tying a houseplant to the roof.”

As Y/n handed the worker a few bills, Jamie spotted a small stack of ornaments and stands for sale as well. He grabbed one of each and pulled a few pounds out his wallet, adding to the total.

“Thank you,” Y/n said to the man, “Merry Christmas.”

Jamie looked proud as they walked back to the car, “Now it’s Christmas.”

Y/n couldn’t argue with him.

—————————

Once they got back to Y/n’s place, Jamie took over unpacking the groceries, while Y/n dug through the hall closet to find some lights for the tree.

“Oi,” Jamie called down the hallway, holding the box of stuffing, “We can still cook this normal, yeah? We don’t have to do anything different.”

“I would think,” Y/n yelled back, waist deep in old boxes, “It’s just bread.”

Jamie went back to the kitchen, he remembered his way around from when they’d unpacked it months ago. The only thing that had changed was the light fixture.

“That’s new,” he said, hearing Y/n’s footsteps approaching.

“Oh, yeah,” she replied, setting an old strand of multicolored lights on the counter, “Ted helped me install it last week. Couple shocks…mostly Ted, but we got it up.”

Jamie chuckled.

“Okay,” Y/n looked to the pile of food beside the stove, “I’ll do the turkey, you start on sides?”

Giving a little salute, Jamie went about grabbing bowls and spoons. Y/n pre-heated the oven and took the turkey out of its wrapping.

“Ugh,” she groaned, peeking inside the bird, “I forgot how disgusting this part is.”

Jamie glanced over and scoffed, “Nope.”

Y/n shut her eyes as she reached in and pulled out the giblets, nearly gagging as she did.

“Carry on with that,” Jamie teased, making a show of pouring in the very dry stuffing mix, “I’ll stay doing this.”

Annoyed, and slightly jealous, Y/n cupped the unmentionable parts of the turkey in her hands and approached Jamie.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he held up a wooden spoon as if it were a shield, “Get away. There’s probably, like, four different bird diseases in there.”

“Yep,” Y/n continued walking towards him, “Don’t get smug in my kitchen, or you’ll be benched with three of them.”

Jamie held up his hands in defeat, “Truce.”

The two of them snorted and snickered before carrying on with their tasks.

It all flowed rather well. Even though they were lacking in skill, Y/n and Jamie felt good about how well everything seemed to be going. In between mixing and flipping, they managed to get the tree in its stand and start decorating. As Jamie was finishing with the ornaments, Y/n popped over to check the turkey, surprised by what she found.

“Shit,” she exclaimed, reaching for the oven mitts.

“What?” Jamie called.

Hurriedly, she opened the oven door and pulled the bird out. The outer layer was far beyond well done, looking tough and chewy.

Jamie entered then, puzzled, but chuckling. “Thought you said you knew how to cook a dinner.”

“I do,” Y/n replied, her voice jumping an octave, “With a much bigger bird. This is a pigeon!”

Jamie was full on laughing by then, covering his mouth.

“Oh, yeah, Padma Lakshmi,” Y/n retorted with a smirk, “Smell that?”

The air was thick with the scent of something burning, and it wasn’t the meat. Jamie pushed past Y/n to get to the stuffing and potatoes he’d put on. Determining the stuffing was the cause of the scent, he switched the burner off and attempted to scoop it out of the pot.

What came out was one giant clump, burnt to a crisp on the bottom and around the edges.

Y/n snorted as she set the turkey on the counter, hand on her hip as she watched Jamie work up a reply. When he came up with nothing, holding the burnt blob on an oversized fork, the two of them fell into a fit of laughter.

In the spirit of Christmas magic, they were able to salvage the dinner. They scooped out the good stuffing, trimmed the chewy parts of the turkey off, and agreed the potatoes were the only dish that looked semi-normal.

After, with their paper crowns on their heads, Jamie and Y/n sat on opposite ends of the couch, still amused at their efforts.

“I think we did pretty good,” Jamie gestured to his chest.

Y/n made a doubtful noise, “We’re a ways away from opening our own Ola’s.”

“We’re keeping takeaways in business,” Jamie replied, “Think about it that way.”

“Oh, that we are,” Y/n smiled, taking a sip of wine, “That we are. And hey, you got to eat.”

Jamie slapped a hand over his sated stomach, “Don’t know if my body’s knows what to do with it.”

Y/n laughed before Jamie smacked his hands together. “Right, time for gifts.”

Y/n stayed in her spot, “That’s assuming I got you anything.”

Jamie looked back from the front door, shooting her a quirked eyebrow. Y/n smiled and got up, like there was a chance in hell she’d have neglected to get him something.

They each went to retrieve the gifts, meeting back on the couch. Jamie was holding the mystery box he’d had stashed in his trunk.

“You first,” he said as they swapped packages.

Y/n unwrapped the square, nearly holding her breath as she took off the box’s lid. Peeling back the tissue paper revealed-

“Oh, good Lord.”

Jamie was somewhere between a grin and a smirk. Whatever it was, he wore it proudly.

Y/n held up the #9 ‘Tartt’ jersey and smirked at Jamie. “Really?”

“You’re gonna work at a football club, you gotta have a kit,” Jamie shrugged.

“And it had to be #9, huh?” Y/n quirked an eyebrow, “Couldn’t have been Colin or Sam’s?”

Jamie scoffed, “They ain’t your favorite.”

Y/n let out a single laugh, “What makes you think you are?”

“Don’t see either of them sittin’ here on Christmas with ya,” Jamie replied, “In a flat they found for ya, eatin’ a dinner they cooked with ya.”

It was hard not to laugh at Jamie’s cockiness. Behind the raging over-confidence, there was something sweet behind the gesture that Y/n could appreciate.

“Well,” Y/n set the jersey back in the box, “I’m not wearing it to matches.”

“Oh, why not?” Jamie asked unseriously.

“Because I’m there for all of you,” Y/n smirked, “And if I’m wearing anyone’s shirt, it’ll be Roy’s.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jamie moaned. Roy and Y/n had bonded on the mornings she joined them for training. The two of them took such joy in torturing Jamie.

Y/n set the Tartt box to the side and handed Jamie his gift. He went about unwrapping it, a little speechless when he removed the last of the paper.

“This from last week’s match?” He asked.

“Mm-hm,” Y/n hummed, hugging her legs to her chest.

In a thick silver frame was a picture of the Greyhounds on the pitch at Nelson Road. Sam, Jamie and Isaac were the most prominently featured. Sam had just scored a goal and a heap of the players were celebrating. It was a perfect representation of the brotherhood they carried with them on and off the field.

“One of the photographers snapped it and I asked him to send it to me,” Y/n explained, “I noticed you didn’t have any pictures up at your place, thought this could be the first one.”

Jamie’s home decor was less than personal. His first few years in the Premier League hadn’t come with many close relationships, his own fault. Most of his family pictures were tainted with memories of something that had happened the days they were taken involving his dad. That didn’t leave him many options.

But this, Jamie thought as he weighed the frame in his hand, this was special. Not only was it his team, his mates, his place in the world, but Y/n had seen the value of it all.

Jamie looked up at her, the corners of his lips tugging upwards, “I love it.”

Y/n grinned, shopping for everyone had been stressful. It had been a long time since she’d had to choose personal gifts, and there’d been a part of her that wanted to throw away the whole gesture. But she’d pushed past her instincts, choosing to give into sentiment. One look at how touched Jamie and the others had been told her it had been worth it.

“Well,” Jamie set the frame on the coffee table, next to his kit, “We can call this a win, yeah?”

“For sure,” Y/n said, reaching out to clink her wine glass against Jamie’s, “Best makeshift Christmas ever.”

“Yeah,” Jamie cackled.

“Best Christmas you’ve ever had?” Y/n asked, “Go.”

Jamie blew out a breath, thinking back. The last few holidays had been spent either in Manchester with his mum or on his own. Two years before, when he was back at Man City, he’d ended up with his dad for part of the day, which left him miserable. If he was being honest, the last Christmas Jamie had truly enjoyed was the one he was currently celebrating.

“Eh, probably when I were a kid,” he answered, “Forget how old I was, but it was the first year I remember being really into football. Me mum got me my first kit.”

Y/n looked over her wineglass, “Was it Roy’s?”

Jamie sighed, glaring softly at her, “Not the point.”

Y/n chortled.

“It was one year me dad was too drunk to remember what day it were,” Jamie went on, his eyes falling on the wall as the memories hit, “Spent the whole day worried he was gonna show up, but…never did. By dinner, I think even mum knew he weren’t coming ‘round, and everything just sorta…relaxed, y’know? Didn’t feel like Christmas till then.”

Jamie’s blue eyes melted into some sort of sad resignation. It was a piece of his history that still hurt, but enough time had passed to see the silver lining, if there was one to be found. He wouldn’t have told the story to anyone else, but this was Y/n. She understood.

Y/n smiled softly, feeling the melancholia. “And you went to bed wearing your little Roy Kent jersey?”

Jamie’s smile came back, thankful for the change in tone. “Fuck you,” he replied, downing the last of his wine, “Right, what’s yours?”

Y/n sighed, like Jamie, there weren’t many to pick from. “Probably when I was eleven. My parents were hosting some party and they pawned me and my sister off on our grandparents. I think they could see that they had zero interest in being with us or giving us a good Christmas, so they went overboard. My grandma got me and Caylee in the kitchen cooking with her,” Y/n glanced at the kitchen where the remnants of dinner sat, “Clearly none of the skills stuck with me. My grandpa had all the movies playing, he tried to keep us laughing as much as he could.”

Taking a breath, Y/n continued, “I remember Caylee and I wrote this Christmas play before dinner. There was a lot of dancing and a lot of off-key singing,” she laughed, Jamie snorted, “But…damn it if our grandparents weren’t up on their feet clapping as if we’d just done Hamlet.”

Though shitty parents came as no surprise to Jamie, he was still a bit shocked. His voice was soft as he asked, “They really just left you?”

Y/n nodded, hugging herself, “Most years.”

The two of them sat in silence, their mutual history sitting in the gap between their bodies. The holidays amplified the best in the world, goodwill and generosity, but for those already hurting, the ever-present loneliness only intensified.

“Don’t know why people have kids if they don’t want ‘em,” Jamie mused, his eyes flitting to Y/n.

She shrugged, her hand curled against her lips. “I’ve been asking myself that since I was old enough to. Haven’t found an answer yet.”

In the moment their eyes met, Y/n and Jamie were struck by just how similar they really were. They’d known it already, it was one of the reasons they got along so well, but it felt like there was a different reality to it. Another layer peeled back, another piece of themselves they were entrusting to the other. And, above all other things, it was safe.

Y/n sniffled, wiping a stray tear away, “This is getting depressing. It’s Christmas.”

“Yeah,” Jamie cleared his throat.

Climbing off the sofa, Y/n went over to the kitchen bar and grabbed her Bluetooth speaker. She connected her phone and pulled up her Christmas playlist.

Jamie watched from his spot on the couch as she slid over to him, hand extended. “What are we doing?”

“We’re going to dance,” Y/n replied, “And we’re going to celebrate the fact that it’s Christmas and we’re somewhere better than we’ve been.”

If it were another day, Jamie wouldn’t have hesitated to make some joke of what Y/n had said. How of course it was better, because he was there. But all he really wanted to do, and what he did do, was take her hand, anchor them together and dance to whatever overly cheery song was playing.

All over Richmond, the uplifting mood was hitting its peak. Ted was on the phone with Henry, sharing his dinner and his son’s lunch, talking about what Santa had brought. Rebecca was giggling with Nora and Sassy at a five star restaurant. Keeley was seated at a full family table at her mother’s. Roy was with his sister, applauding Phoebe as her and her classmates took their bows. Beard was helping Leslie carve a massive turkey as Sam, Dani, Jan, and the rest of the Greyhounds sat around foldout tables. Y/n and Jamie were giggling uncontrollably as he picked her up and spun her around, the sounds of Nat King Cole filling the flat.

For all of them, it was Christmas to remember.

—————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro @littlemisssunshine192 @beboldbebravethings @maydayfigment @spencerreidsbookclub @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @lemoonandlestars

[kingmagnificoofrosas]

I just cannot get over this one kid in the cinema who went "But he isn't evil!"

We are talking children here! Children don't really know or understand anything about ptsd and trauma (mostly, yet) they just observe! And if a KID between the age of 5 and 10 observes Magnifico and can read between the lines and conclude he isn't evil, what excuse does that leave for haters calling him one?

Now, more analysing cause you've been loving those and I enjoy doing them 🛡⚔️ (I might repeat some points but in a alightly different way)

Every single arguement I've seen haters or anti-Magnifico people make so far was either straight up stupid, ignorant, uneducated, defiant, baseless and or senseless. And then we also have the hardcore Amaya/Asha fans who just go on hating on Magnifico just "because!"

Or those who go "He's the worst villain ever." Yeah, Sherlock, maybe thats because he isn't one? 🤨 Like, seriously, you take Magnifico, compare him to aaaaall the REAL villains like Jafar, Frollo, Scar etc. And you wanna tell me he was anything like them because his trauma forced him to get himself posessed by evil trapped in an evil book and only went bonkers after he was literally posessed? And his sole motivation was to protect and keep safe at all costs ?

And then come the arguements 🫴🏼

"He's vain and narcissistic!"

Because he acknowledges the fact that he's handsome and like's to see himself in mirrors? 🤨

"He didn't grant every single wish! He shouldn't have kept them."

He didn't grant every single wish because of his trauma caused fear/paranoia and kept them for the same exact reason. However, he always meant well.

Yes, I agree that a traumatized person shouldn't be in any leading position, nor should they be in the position of making important decissions. But lets take a look at his motivations and goals again!

His motivations :

- Never have anyone suffer a fate like he did

- Never have people have to see their hopes and dreams get shattered

- Never have his past repeat

Quote - "Everything I do is to make sure that never happens again!"

His goals :

- Protect and keep people safe

- Make sure people live happy, content, free of hardships and strive

Further comparisons

All the other villains when singing - Sing openly about their evil plans, desires etc. showing they're evil!

Magnifico when bursting into song :

"promise as one does, I will protect you at all costs. Keep you safe here in my arms. I will protect you at all costs."

"If you're ever feeling like you're lost, I'll come find you. Man all fronts, there's no ocean I won't swim across to be right by you. And not just once, here and now I swear on my response. I'll remind you-"

"I let you live here for free and I don't even charge you rent. I clean up all your messes and I'm always there when you need to vent. I give and give and give and give, you'd think they'd all be content. And all I really want is just a little respect."

Back to the arguements Anti-Magnifico people make and even more comparisons ⬇️

More for the vain and narcissistic

Gaston - treats everyone like trash and thinks the whole globe spinns around him only. Doesn't care if he walks over dead bodies looking good.

Evil queen - Wants to kill her stepdaughter because she's prettier than her.

Mother gothel - Kidnaps the baby princess, locks her up because the magic hair makes her stay young and pretty, doesn't give a toot that the king and queen are suffering immense heartbreak and guilt. And to keep the princess locked in, gaslights and belittles her.

And then we have Magnifico ✨️

"I'm handsome and I know it." Likes to look at himself in the mirror and is happy and content with his looks. Hurts not one single fly with it. Doesn't put others down.

"He's power hungry!"

Why did he want to keep his power? - Because he was terrified if he would lose it, he wouldn't be able to protect anymore and his past would repeat.

"He threatened everyone and destroyed wishes!"

Again, he was posessed? Do people understand what posessed means? Amaya knew this book would control him! Not him controling the book!

In the end, I don't even care for people who disagree with me. But one thing I just don't get is : Why are some people so out to prove to us Magnifico-defenders that he's evil? Like, are these guys for real? We push forgiveness and love and the other side pushes hate, ignorance, unforgiveness and bitterness. Why does someone feel the need to spread negativity rather than positivity?

I won't stop defending Magnifico 🛡⚔️🩵

[noveratus]

I just watched Fairly Oddparents a new wish, and here are my thoughts.

I love this show. Genuinely, this is my probably my favorite reboot/sequel show that I have ever watched along with Fiona and Cake. It is fantastic and if you have not seen it yet, I recommend you do.

The best way to describe this show is that it feels like someone took the concept of Fairly Oddparents and applied it in modern times, and it works so well. The original show was wackier and full of more hijinks, while this show follows the trend of modern cartoons being more mature, with characters feeling more realistic and human. Yes, there are still plenty of cartoon shenanigans, it is very funny, but it is also so good at writing characters. No longer does it need to rely on over the top cartoony satires. It uses its modern setting and its realism in its favor, blending it with the shenanigans and magic that the show is known for.

I have seen some people say that Peri is the only good thing about the show and I couldn't disagree more. Yes, I do think the show is stronger in its second half, once he appears, however, I think he is alright. To me, the real star is Hazel and her relationship with Cosmo and Wanda as well as her own parents. It is so refreshing to see genuinely good parents trying their best, but who sometimes screw up instead of idiots who treat their child as trash. Dev is also a highlight, he is a very deep character for a show like this. But yes, I love that Hazel feels like a character more mature for her age, because that allows her to have issues that relate not only to kids, but adults too. It is incredibly smart. And those are the best episodes, the ones where things that things that are actually important, like dealing with anxiety (which is explored several times in the show), learning to appreciate your age, and accepting who you are are beautiful.

The first part does have the slight issue of having episodes whose main purpose seem to be introducing new characters to potentially explore them later and very little more, but those are just a couple of episodes and they do learn pretty quickly how to mix character introductions with life lessons. It is an overall brilliant show.

There were some episodes that were a little boring to me- or rather random since they didn't really deal with any characters learning anything truly, but if the writers were having fun with their concept I don't mind.

I think that my real biggest issue was the last episode of the show that felt a little rushed with Dev and Irep just taking over Fairy World like that and then getting it back felt too easy, but I won't complain too much. Having Dev lose Peri after he said he cared about him, the only thing Dev really wanted hurt. It does lead to the issue with fairies, because, for Hazel, losing Cosmo and Wanda will be sad, but she still has loving parents and friends, and even her teachers love her. She will be fine when the time comes. But Dev is in a similar spot as Timmy, where their fairy is all they have. That's their entire family and you will take that away from them, potentially leaving them to end up as Crocker.

I wonder if they will explore that at any point. I have hope. Speaking of exploring, I do hope that we see more of the side characters, like I would love it if Hazel took a step back for a few episodes and let Winn shine (fuck yeah, nb rep), or another one of the kids or even Cosmo and Wanda. I do want to know how they feel about their retirement and their relationship since it is so much better than it was before. They are a genuinely great couple in this show and incredibly funny, too. Their love is contagious.

Now, for ships, because so far I have seen some, uh, let's say interesting ships for this show, and yet, I have not once heard the mention of what is my personal favorite ship (which is technically a crackship but shhh) and that is Peri X Anthony. Anthony is shown to maybe be having relationship issues, and I think Peri is incredibly queercoded, not to mention, I think they would really get along. Also, Anthony is the only adult who can't forget fairies. Here is my fanfic: together, they create a place to help people who lost their fairy godparents and have no one left, much like how Timmy was most likely left when we last saw him. As for what happened to Timmy, I'm honestly not too fussed about him. If they want to bring him back, I hope they do with the intent of developing him further rather than just a cameo. And even then, I think that it would be far more interesting to bring back other characters first, like Trixie or any of the female characters who were done so dirty in the original. But if I had to bring him back, I'd do so by having him be working for AJ as a paranormal investigator. Much like crocker, he never grew past his fairies, but he knows how to mask it better. Deep down, he is trying to fill the hole he fills he still has deep down, which stops him from fully growing. That's just my fanfic, though. For now, all that I ask is more focus on the side characters.

[autumnshighlady]

I’ve Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 14)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: Reader and Azriel have a talk, Nesta discovers Eris’ secret

warnings: Night Court slander, semi graphic torture, Rhysand is horrible

word count: 7.1k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: IM BACKKKKKK!!!!!! SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!! This is some of my worst writing but I love the concept so here ya go, I hope this was worth the wait! More action coming soon, chapter 16/17 are gonna be HUGE!!!!!! x

feedback is appreciated, just no hate pls! these are just my opinions, i’m more curious to see how you all like the writing and characterization and storylines!

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 /

read on ao3

Spotify playlist

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

READER POV

You didn’t know how long it had been since Rhysand left you bloody and strung up in the cell. In some ways, you were grateful that the past while had been a blur. Your memory was a haze of flashes of searing pain, Rhysand’s voice in the background demanding you reveal the bond to him and admit the details of your conspiracy against his court. Yet you did not break, even as those tendrils of dark power carved into your already open wounds.

Despite not being able to feel her on the other side of the bond, Nesta was what got you through it. The thought of her in Autumn, far away from the Night Court’s reach, made you grit your teeth and fight the urge to crumble in front of the High Lord. You closed your eyes and pictured the eldest Archeron sister wandering through the paths of the woods, brilliant leaves of red and gold falling around her and landing on the soft grass. Her creamy skin adorned in a soft emerald dress, that golden-brown hair trailing down her back, finally free. You pictured her happy, content in her new environment. With Eris.

Even in your half-conscious state, you wondered how well the two were getting along. While the Inner Circle thought the Autumn heir was a cruel, sadistic bastard, you always knew Eris as your best friend’s older brother… the aloof, sarcastic male who would attempt to charm you to piss off Lucien. You never told Lucien, but every wink Eris had sent your way made butterflies swarm in your stomach. Eris was clever, a good intellectual match for Nesta at least. You had faith in her to be able to navigate the Autumn Court politics. After all, she had been raised to be a perfect courtier. Why the Inner Circle wanted to ignore that and make her into a warrior instead was mind-blowing. Even Lucien, who was incredibly skilled at negotiating and getting along with other courts, was treated like trash by the Inner Circle.

You missed him terribly. It had been months since you had seen Lucien, who was reportedly dwelling in the human lands now. You suspected he was being fed lies by Feyre and Rhys about your involvement in their court. No doubt their version of the story told a tale that painted you as the obedient female who eagerly immersed herself into the Night Court, grateful to be given this chance.

The eerie quiet of the cell was broken by the rush of air in the corner, the soft sound itself deafening against your pounding head. You couldn’t recall the last time you drank water, your throat dry as sandpaper. You didn’t lift your head up, for the weight of it was too much for your neck to bear. You did nothing, just accept the fact that Rhysand had returned for another crack at you.

But it was not Rhysand’s sneering voice that muttered, “Mother above.”

“Az…” Your voice was raspy and almost unrecognisable as you lifted your chin up. The spymaster stood before you, eyes widened slightly. His jaw was tense, and there was something about his expression you couldn’t decipher.

When he didn’t say anything, you tried again. “Please… help….”

“What happened?” He asked coldly, his shadows swirling around him. You flinched as they approached, drifting towards you like Rhysand’s mist had. The action didn’t go unnoticed. Azriel blinked, the only indication of surprise he was likely to give. Still, you could see it in his eyes as he put the pieces together. Not once had you ever flinched from the shadows that hovered around him. Until Rhysand’s own likened darkness had cut through your skin like butter.

“Water…” You mumbled. For a moment, you thought Azriel was going to ignore your request and continue to just stand there staring at you. But after what appeared to be a moment of contemplation, the spymaster pulled out a small canteen and unscrewed the lid. With his scarred hands he lifted it up to your lips. Your entire body sagged in relief as you eagerly drank the water, taking as much as he would give you. After downing about half of the liquid, Azriel stepped back.

“Thank you.” You said, voice clearer this time now that your dry throat had vanished.

“Rhysand did this to you.” Azriel said more as a statement than a question. After training with the spymaster for months, you could read him a bit easier than before. There was something behind his expression, revealed by the widened eyes and tensed jaw, that made you think whatever Azriel had expected his High Lord to do in his interrogation of you, this was not it.

So you nodded, and the tears that had been pooling in your eyes finally spilled down your cheeks. You hated crying in front of Azriel, or anyone really. But you were too tired to hold your tears back. Days in this cell, tortured without food or water… It was too much.

“Gods,” Azriel muttered, running a hand through his tousled locks. “When Rhysand told me he wanted to interrogate you himself, I didn’t expect…. this.”

You choked out a laugh. “Why does it matter to you anyways, Azriel? You were willing to send me to die on an impossible mission. My fate here is really no different.”

Azriel stiffened visibly, brows narrowing. “How did you–”

“Does it matter?” You interrupted bitterly, twisting your wrist around in the chain to try and relax the stiff muscles.

“You know if you want any shot of getting out of here, you’re going to have to tell the truth.” Azriel growled, his voice dropping. “You’ve been hiding things from me this entire time, and I’d like to know what. And why, starting with how you knew about the confidential mission to the continent before I even told you.”

You laughed again, a hollow, bitter sound echoing throughout the cell chamber. You were beyond caring at this point. No matter how you answered their questions, or if you answered them at all, there was no escaping the fact that telling the truth or not, you would not make it out of these dungeons. “You don't understand,” You retorted. “It doesn’t matter how I know. Telling you how will not change the fact that neither you nor Rhys will let me out of here anytime soon.”

The shadowsinger folded his arms, his cold gaze unblinking. “You do realise that if you want me to help, you’re going to have to be straight with me.”

It killed you that you couldn’t tell Azriel what was really going on. Some part of you yearned to, hoping that he’d finally get his head out of his High Lord’s ass. But you couldn’t shake how he just left you in here with Rhysand. Rhys apparently has his claws so deep in every member of the Inner Circle, it would take a lot more than a few months of training one on one with the spymaster for him to change.

“Please, just…” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you hung your head, ashamed. “Kill me. Get it over with.”

You heard him scoff. “I am not going to kill you.”

“You basically were by letting me be sent to die on the continent.”

“Damnit, (Y/N) I was trying to help you!” Azriel snapped, his tone rising.

You froze as you were lifting your head up. “What?”

Azriel rubbed his face with a scarred hand, leaning against one of the rocks that jutted out from the wall. He looked exasperated, the weariness on his face visible even in the dim lighting of the cell. “I was trying to find a way to get you out of the mission.” He said. “I told Rhys it would take months, years even to get you ready for that level of assignment. He did not listen. I spent those four weeks trying to find a way for you to escape, to get out of here.”

Your mind reeled from more than just exhaustion. Azriel had been trying to help you this whole time? He may not be brave enough to put his foot down to Rhysand, but had enough sense to try and get you out of this mess.

He continued. “I was trying to set up refuge for you, in a village far south on the continent. You’d have been safe there, if you laid low. I would have told Rhys that my spies reported you were killed.”

“Why?” You couldn’t help but ask. “Why lie to him for me? He’s your high lord.”

“Yes. And he always will be. But that does not mean I am not allowed to have my opinions on the way he handles some matters. It is unfair to drag someone into this line of work who does not want it, and it is even more unfair to send them on assignments they are not ready for.”

You chose your next words carefully. “You know why he did it, right?”

Azriel only stared at you, saying nothing.

“He wants me dead,” You whispered. “He wants me dead and you know it. That’s why he arranged the mission-”

“No,” Azriel cut you off, his voice sharp. “He was desperate for another spy, and could not send me. Braillyn would have expected that. You were the best one for the job, because they don’t know you. He just didn’t understand that you weren’t ready.”

You shook your head, heart sinking at Azriel’s denial. He wasn’t stupid, some part of him had to know the truth – that Rhysand wanted you dead because your defiance of him could cause unrest, even more so if you were plotting against him. Which you were. The first big step had been a success, getting Nesta out of the Night Court in a way that, by the law, prevented them from coming after her.

There was much more you had in store for the Inner Circle, but only time would tell if you would be able to pull it off. None of which would happen if you did not escape this cell.

“That’s not true, Azriel.” You said. “I wish you would see it. He knew I wasn’t ready, but if I died then he wouldn’t have to worry about me anymore. But if I somehow survived then he’d get the intel he wanted.”

The spymaster’s glare hardened. You shrank back slightly as he propped himself upright once again and stalked towards you. Large wings flared slightly, a menacing sight as he asked you firmly, “I will ask you this one more time. How did you find out about the mission?”

You didn’t answer, wondering if he was going to try and carve answers out of you like Rhysand had. Azriel had likely done such a thing countless times, perhaps in this very cell. Your wounds were crusted over and raw, fae healing abilities diminished in the darkness of the prison.

“It was Eris, wasn’t it?” Azriel said after a few minutes, bitterness and disappointment lacing his voice. “That’s why he proposed to Nesta, and why she insisted on you coming with them. It was part of a plan, wasn’t it? A plan for you and Nesta to escape.”

You did not bother confirming nor denying it, any defiance you had long ago wilted. Half your body had gone numb, and the other half ached beyond belief. You could feel yourself slipping further and further away, a discouragingly slow descent towards death. It was almost worse than the torture itself, being so close to death’s arms embracing you and carrying you to freedom, yet not quite there yet.

“Why?” Azriel asked sternly, taking your silence as an answer in and of itself. “Why would you want so badly to leave? To take Nesta away from her family?”

Bitterness coursed through you, igniting a fire in your voice. “If that is truly how you see it then you won’t even try to understand.” You hissed at him.

Azriel perched himself atop one of the rocks in the corner, those massive wings folding in. He shrugged, arms folded. “Humour me.” He challenged dryly.

These moments were crucial, you knew. It was your chance to either convince Azriel to help you, or to seal your fate and be locked in here forever. The choice weighed upon your already heavy shoulders like a rock. Rhysand would likely return soon and Azriel would disappear again, along with this one chance. And so you chose.

“Nesta will never be part of the Inner Circle, and you know it.” You said. “All you guys have done is try and muzzle her, control her, make her docile enough to sit quietly alongside you at the table but never truly be a part of everything.”

“We were trying to help her–” Azriel interrupted, but you quickly cut him off.

“By forcing her to train? Do something she never wanted? There are many ways to help someone, Azriel. This method may have worked for you and Cassian, but it is not for everyone. Nesta was hurting after the war, and all she received was judgement. You lot consume a bottle of wine every Friday night at Rita’s, but when Nesta does it, suddenly it’s a bad thing? You’ve all slept around, but when Nesta does it, she should be shamed? You have all held her to an impossible standard and refused to give her time to heal. But none of you ever cared about her healing, only how she made you look. You’ve done exactly to her what Tamlin did to your High Lady.”

You expected Azriel to argue, to fight back in defence of his found family. But he merely stared at you, eyes unreadable. You took it as a sign to continue.

“Nesta is drowning in the Night Court.” You said, locking eyes with the shadowsinger. “She will never be accepted here, and being a warrior is not what she wants. You are not stupid, Azriel. You know this. Feyre has found her new family, and that is fine. Let Nesta find her own. Please, just let her go.”

The eerie echoes throughout the cell were the only sound for the next few minutes. Your gut churned at Azriel’s reaction to your rant. He had said nothing, made no defence nor an agreement. That was almost more nerve-wracking to you.

“You see much of yourself in Nesta, do you not?” Azriel finally spoke, unfolding his arms. “That’s why you resorted to involving Eris to help get Nesta out. You have known him for as long as you’ve known his little brother, so you went to him for aid, did you not?”

“Yes.” You muttered. You didn’t have it in you to deny anything anymore. With what you had already admitted, Azriel would figure everything out on his own. You just hoped that Nesta had solidified her position in the Autumn Court quickly enough to prevent a war from breaking out.

“And he was at the meeting where Rhysand discussed sending you to the continent,” The spymaster continued, hazel eyes gleaming in the darkness. “So that’s how you knew. And you came up with the idea of marriage to get Nesta out, did you not?”

“Yes.”

“Here’s what I don’t understand,” Azriel stood up, once again looking down at your withered form. “That plan involved a clean way out for everyone except you. Why? Were you wanting to get sent to the continent to die?”

“It is because she loves Nesta.”

The arrogant voice of the High Lord filled the room, chilling your bones. Your entire body went stiff with panic, and even Azriel’s eyes widened as Rhysand appeared from behind you. Clearly, he hadn’t expected his brother back so soon.

The sound of footsteps and a dark presence was all your senses noted as you closed your eyes, feeling Rhysand walk around you to stand next to Azriel. You couldn’t bring yourself to open them, to look into the face that had sneered as tendrils of dark mist tortured you for hours.

“Good job, Az, you got her to talk!” Rhys clapped Azriel’s stiff shoulder, shock still evident on the spymaster’s face. “She said a hell of a lot more to you than she did to me. But I don’t recall ordering you to interrogate her. Unless my excellent memory is wrong, of course.”

Azriel straightened his spine, glaring at the High Lord. “You didn’t,” He said plainly. “But seeing the results of your last meeting with her and how little information you gathered, I believe it best you leave the rest of it to me.”

You finally opened your eyes, greeted by the practically feline smile of the High Lord. He bore a triumphant look on his face, one that made your body shake with nerves. Somehow, he had heard almost everything – Azriel’s shadows not even detecting his presence. Deep down, you knew that you were never getting out of here now.

“No.” Rhysand said. “You’ve done enough. You can carve her up all you want and nothing will make the magic mark appear, so I don’t need you for this next part. You are dismissed, Azriel.”

Unlike before, Azriel stood his ground. “No,” He growled. “As your spymaster, it is my job to be involved in these things. I am staying.”

Rhysand merely shrugged, showing no signs that he cared about his brother defying him. “Suit yourself. But you are not to intervene, do you understand?”

“Intervene with what?”

Rhysand hummed, taking a step towards you. You flinched as he brought his hand up, taking one of your tangled locks and pushing it behind your ear. An act so seemingly gentle, filling you with more fear than you had ever known.

“You look famished, darling.” He crooned, stroking your ice cold cheek. “If you show me the mark that allows you to communicate with Nesta, we can get you a nice hot plate of food and some water.”

With your mouth no longer dry, you gathered up as much saliva as you could manage and spat in the High Lord’s face. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Azriel’s jaw drop open slightly at the action, and you almost laughed.

But Rhysand only chuckled, wiping your spit off his face before standing back up to his full height. “I may not have been able to get into your head before,” He said. “But now that you are weakened, I will be able to break through your shields.”

Searing pain shot through your skull and you screamed. Those dark tendrils that had sliced your flesh before were now in your head, scraping down your shields like nails on a chalkboard. The pain was unlike anything you had experienced, the worst migraine of your life times a hundred.

Through the screaming, which you weren’t sure if it was in your head or out loud, you could hear Azriel’s muffled voice in the background. “Stop it, Rhys,” He was protesting. “You’ll kill her.”

Rhysand ignored him, continuing to try and force his way into your head. It felt like the entire force of the sea had come crashing down on your skull, pushing and pounding in every direction in search of a crack. Your entire body shook, the pain from your physical wounds nonexistent in comparison.

“This isn’t right.” Azriel was saying. “I will get her to talk, just stop this. She’ll never trust us if you keep doing this.”

“I don’t care about her trust.” You heard Rhysand say, his voice both in your head and echoing throughout the room. “Once I get into her head and get what I need, she will be of no more use to us. Then she’ll be your problem.”

The sensation of white hot needles pricking into your head took over, and you let out a wail. It was a thousand times worse than before, especially in your starved state.

Please, You begged the Mother, or any gods out there. Please kill me. Grant me this mercy and end it.

Amidst the pain and your screams, a warm sensation brushed your shoulder, like someone’s hand was grasping it in reassurance. You can do this. It seemed to say, in a voice so familiar yet like nothing you had ever heard before.

“What are you saying?” Azriel growled.

The High Lord’s next sentence was all you heard before darkness overtook your vision. “When I am done, I need you to kill her, Azriel.”

NESTA POV

The smell of a freshly made breakfast sandwich and tea roused Nesta from her sleep. As her eyes crept open to meet the golden glow of the sunrise, she became rapidly aware of the presence lounging beside her. Nesta’s vision focused after a few blinks, a male with red hair coming into focus.

Instantly, she shot up, wincing as the pounding headache she apparently woke up with protested. “What the fuck, Eris?” She practically yelled, bunching up the bedsheets to cover her nightgown.

“Ah, finally you’re awake!” The prince said casually, as if he was not laying next to her sleeping form with his head propped up against the bed frame. “Half the day has gone by already while you slept.”

“It’s sunrise, asshole.” Nesta hissed furiously, wishing she had a dagger nearby to stab him with. “Were you watching me sleep?”

“Exactly,” Eris quipped, turning to the next page in the book that he was currently reading. “And no, watching you sleep is rather boring. Especially when you snore. Besides, this novel is way more interesting.”

Growling, Nesta snatched the book from him after noting it was a smutty romance one she had snuck from the library and was currently reading. Eris smirked knowingly, making Nesta’s cheeks burn. “I did not take you for a romance novel type of female,” He purred, arrogantly reaching up his arm to rest behind his head. “Especially ones with such erotica.”

Nesta gave him a hard shove, unbalancing him. “Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

Eris chuckled, raising his hands in mock defenselessness. “But I brought you breakfast! Am I really not allowed to bring my loving fiancé breakfast in bed?”

She shot daggers at him with her eyes. “Your loving fiancé is going to murder you before the wedding if you don’t get out within the next fifteen seconds.”

Eris sighed in defeat. “I do not know what I did to deserve this type of treatment from my future wife.” He muttered in obvious sarcastic pity, but climbing off the bed nonetheless. Nesta crossed her arms over her chest, cursing inwardly at the headache that plagued her. If she had better control of her magic, she’d send a stream of silver fire after Eris’ ass on his way out.

It had been one week since the dinner with Beron where she was granted one month to train her powers, and every day had been the same routine. Get woken up before the sun has even risen, ride Diadoro and Calypso to a remote clearing in the forest about an hour away, try over and over again to follow Eris’ instructions only for either nothing to happen or absolute catastrophe. The day usually ended in an argument, either about training, Eris’ progress in finding you, or where he was on his plan to dispose of his father. And then followed by a very silent ride back to the manor.

“Meet me by the lake in 10 minutes.” Eris called out as he shut the door, leaving Nesta to eat the breakfast laid across the tray. She groaned, rubbing her eyes and wishing for just an hour of rest.

Sleep hadn’t been coming easily lately. Every night was the same dream – Nesta running around a dark maze with walls of stone, trying to get to you. She could hear your screams as if they were real, echoing throughout her head whenever she was left alone with her own thoughts. Eris insisted he was doing everything he could to find you, but the more time passed the more worried she got. Every day Nesta woke up, she was plagued by the aching in her chest.

In record time, she managed to consume half of her breakfast and get herself dressed. The outfits Eris had always prepared for her were admittedly perfect, and today was no different. A forest green gown with gold buttons up the front, and a subtle dark pink trim. Nesta had no idea where Eris was pulling these gowns from, but she didn’t complain as she slipped on the comfortable material.

Eris was waiting with Calypso and Diadoro, the creatures tacked up and ready to go. Calypso was pawing at the ground impatiently, as if she had been waiting a while.

“At last she graces us with her presence.” Eris called out as Nesta approached hurriedly. It had taken her an extra few minutes to get ready, as her hair did not cooperate in its usual cornet. For the first time in Autumn, Nesta had simply pulled her golden brown locks back into a simple braid before hurrying out the door.

“You said ten minutes, I took fifteen, get over it.” She snapped, taking Diadoro’s reins from Eris’ outstretched hand. “Besides, I needed a few minutes to recover from the fright of looking at your face the first thing waking up.”

Eris chuckled. “A sight to look forward to after our wedding day, my dear.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, climbing into the saddle as Eris held the stirrup in place for her. He had insisted Nesta get used to riding, something she had protested at first. But admittedly, it was fun, not that she’d ever admit that in front of Eris. As the Prince got on Calypso’s back, the pair and their horses headed off through the path they had taken every day for the last week.

It was a scenic route, the Autumn hues throughout the forest bringing Nesta a sense of calm that she had never quite found at the Night Court. She was no longer always cold, bones chilled by the crisp night air that seemed to somehow be present during the day, even though none of the Inner Circle seemed to feel it. She only wished she could share this stroll with you.

After about twenty minutes of riding, Nesta decided to change things up and break the usual silence that they rode in. “Where are you with your search for her?” She said quietly.

“Well, my spies are convinced she is still somewhere in the Night Court.” Eris responded cautiously, his voice flat.

“So why can’t we go back and get her?” Nesta pressed as they continued to ride through the trees.

“Many, many reasons,” Eris said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Firstly, you know that the High Lord and the brute would snatch you up immediately. You would never get out after that. Secondly, neither of us knows the terrain. The Night Court is large, and she could be anywhere. It is not easy to pinpoint exactly where she is out of the dozens of places she could be.”

“Eris, every night I have the same dream. I’m running through an underground maze of stone, with walls of black rock. And I hear her voice. And you’re saying this doesn’t help at all?”

The Autumn princeling sighed, halting the horses. “Correct. Because the Night Court has hundreds of mountains, all of which could be harbouring some underground dungeon. So no, it doesn’t help.”

Deep down, Nesta knew he was right. She tangled her fingers in Diadoro’s mane to soothe the sea of worry churning within her. “Why did we stop?” She asked after a few moments.

Eris turned to face her, his eyes serious for once. “Nesta, I know how badly you want to find her. I do too. But with how well hidden and warded the Night Court is, not to mention remoteness, it is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. And if the magic from your bond can’t reach her, I’m afraid I’ve done everything I can.”

“No.” Nesta refused to believe it. You had been her anchor to this earth for months, her reason for keeping her chin up and moving through the relentless stormy sea it seemed she was destined to wade through.

Eris’ voice was gentle. “Nesta, you are immortal now. You have a long life ahead of you. Clinging onto this will only hold you back.”

“Easy for you to say,” Nesta shot back, not caring how deep her words cut. “You don’t care about anyone. Must be no problem for you to just drop people once you’ve gotten what you want.”

For the first time since she had known him, Eris’ face fell slightly. Regret washed over Nesta immediately at the hurt flickering in his amber eyes. Insults were part of Nesta and Eris’ routine now, but this…. She knew she had gone too far.

“Do you truly think so little of me?” Eris asked, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. There was no trace of the arrogant prince she had grown used to.

“I just…” Her voice trailed off. “I don’t know what to think anymore. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

“I know. And I’m doing my best to get things back on track, but it’s proving almost impossible.”

Nesta swallowed the familiar lump in her throat that indicated tears were going to begin welling up soon. “I know.” She said before coughing and regaining her composure. “Anywho, you were the one insisting we were late. Let’s get going.”

Before she could move Diadoro forward, Eris turned Calypso to the right and headed off the path. “We’re doing something else today,” He called out. “Follow me.”

Nesta didn’t have to do anything, as Diadoro was already following the white horse off the path, expertly stepping over roots and branches in his way. “Where are we going?” She demanded.

“It’s a surprise.”

“Tell me.”

“That would ruin the surprise.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do. Keep moving.”

Nesta huffed, but didn’t protest. She had never been on this route before, and the further they got the rockier it was. Trees grew sparser, and the soil became harder. The journey reminded Nesta of something from one of the fantasy books in the library at the House of Wind, and with a pang she thought about Gwyn and Emerie.

She wondered how her disappearance had been explained. Most likely, they had been told that Nesta was kidnapped by Eris or something. Nesta missed them terribly – Emerie’s snorting laughter, the way Gwyn’s eyes would light up as she explained something in her research, how they both took an instant liking to you.

“Eris?” Nesta asked about thirty minutes into their trek.

“Yes, my fearsome goddess?” Eris singsonged over his shoulder in response.

“Can I bring my two friends to Autumn?”

“I did not realise you had friends other than (Y/N) in the Night Court.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, I do. I met them at my training, and…” Her voice trailed off, unsure of how to phrase it without seeming weak. Nesta had never needed anyone before, but the lack of Gwyn and Emerie’s presence in her life lately was beginning to weigh on her.

“You miss them.” Eris finished her sentence for her. “Once I am High Lord, we can invite them to come here.”

“For a visit?”

He shrugged. “Or to stay permanently, if that is what they wish.”

Nesta’s heart fluttered with excitement at the idea. She knew Gwyn would love it here certainly, once she got used to it. Emerie too, who would be relieved at being miles away from her vile family. “I’ll hold you to that, Eris.” She said sternly.

“Consider it one of the many wedding gifts I shall spoil you with.”

Nearly two hours later, Eris finally halted Calypso and got off. It was the longest ride Nesta had been on thus far, and her inner thighs ached. Luckily, the prince was already reaching up to grab her waist, lifting her out of the saddle with an impressive amount of strength.

“Thanks.” She mumbled, cheeks red with embarrassment before asking, “Where are we?”

There was nothing notable in her surroundings, save for a rocky cliff that loomed above them a few metres ahead. Calypso and Diadoro had pressed their noses to the ground in search of grass amidst the sparsity.

“All will be revealed.” Eris winked, then extended his hand. He glanced up at the cliff, and Nesta crossed her arms.

“I am not scaling that cliff.” She said sternly, causing Eris to chuckle.

“I would not make you, certainly in those skirts,” He said. “We’re winnowing up there.”

“You know I hate winnowing.”

“Fine, if you’d like to climb it then I’ll see you in a few hours–”

Nesta quickly grabbed Eris’ hand, cutting him off. It tingled against her own, like electricity in her veins was jumping out to meet his own. She ignored his smirk as the world went askew and the ground fell away underneath her feet.

A split second later, they stood atop the cliff. The wind immediately whipped across Nesta’s cheeks, but it was not cold. Oddly enough, it was warmer up here, like the very rocks they stood on were heated. The colourful forest spanned across the horizon, bright with the now late morning sun. Nesta’s braid whipped in the wind, coming undone within seconds.

“I’ve been keeping this from my father,” Eris said, turning away from the edge of the cliff and walking away, leaving Nesta to follow. “A secret weapon, if you will.”

Nesta hurried to catch up, her long strides matching his own. “A weapon to kill him with? Up here?”

Eris chuckled, shaking his head. “No, between you and me we are perfectly capable of doing it ourselves. This weapon will help solidify me as the High Lord and prevent other courts from going to war with us. And I think it will help you with your magic.”

Nesta halted, dread forming in her stomach as she thought of the last few magical weapons she encountered. The mask, that took away everything she felt and made her raise an army of the dead. The Cauldron, that stole her humanity away from her and turned her into a creature she had grown up learning to hate and fear. The thought of something else like that made her knees go weak.

“It’s nothing like the Cauldron, I swear to you.” Eris said calmly, as if reading her thoughts. “Come, I promise it’s something entirely different.”

After a second of hesitation, Nesta resumed following Eris. They walked further and further, approaching a large mountain with a cave entrance that was bigger than anything she had ever seen.

“Are we seriously going down there?” Nesta gaped. The closer she got, the warmer the air was. It sang to the silver flames within her, and she felt them dance.

“Yes.” Eris said, igniting a flame in his hand in place of a torch before entering the darkness. Not wanting to lose the light and be stranded in the dark, Nesta followed. They walked down the large cavern, and the further they went the more her power begged to be let out.

“You can feel it, can’t you?” Eris asked, pausing at the bottom of the slope they had just crawled down. “Like calls to like, Nesta.”

Eris’ flame didn’t illuminate much, but by the way their footsteps echoed, Nesta could tell whatever chamber they were in was large enough for a small city. “What is this place?” She asked.

As usual, Eris continued his lecture and neglected to answer her question. “You fear your power too much, Nesta, because you haven’t seen anything like it. You are letting your fear control you, and you need confidence if you are to wield your powers in a manner that impresses my father. There are many fire-wielders in this world, Nesta Archeron. Yours may be different, but you can learn from others. And not just me.”

Nesta took in a sharp breath, the taste of smoke and ash on her tongue. “This secret weapon…” She said slowly. “It’s not a ‘what’.... it’s a ‘who’.”

Eris nodded, his pale face a striking gold in the light of the flames. “Do not be afraid.”

Before she could ask what he meant, a low but fierce growl vibrated throughout the chasm. It quaked her bones, and the floor began to tremble with what felt like the footsteps of a large creature. And then another, and another.

Nesta trembled as they grew louder, but refused to shrink back. She would not be a coward, not in front of Eris, even as whatever weapons Eris had approached them. The prince stepped forward, lifting up his flaming hand and illuminating the dark space a bit more to reveal not one, but three massive, scaling heads.

The heads of dragons.

The one in the middle had onyx scales, barely visible within the darkness. Its head was only illuminated by its glowing amber eyes. The one on the right was almost as big, but it had golden scales and larger horns on its head. And the one on the left crawled opposite from Nesta, a shining shade of silver with a longer neck. Each beast exuded sheer power and might, the space in the enormous cavern almost too small for their bodies.

Time seemed to slow down and stop as the three dragons approached, the orange glow from their mouths and bellies lighting the chasm. They were a thousand times bigger than a horse, almost the size of an entire palace.Nesta gawked, and her magic began to thrum excitedly at the beasts. Realistically, her instincts should have screamed at her to run before she was burned to ash, but she felt none. No, Nesta was rooted to the stone in fascination and awe.

Eris approached the black dragon, who lowered its head and growled. For a second, Nesta thought it would simply devour Eris whole. But instead, it let out a crooning noise and pushed its nose into Eris’ flaming palm. He began murmuring to the dragon in a language Nesta didn’t recognize, and the beast purred in response.

Her fixation on Eris with the dragon was broken by a low growl, and she flinched as the silver dragon snaked its head towards her.

“Summon a flame.” Eris instructed, still stroking the snout of the black dragon, despite its head being twenty times his size.

“What?” Nesta said, still frozen in place as the dragon crept towards her.

“Just do it.”

She raised a shaky hand, taking a deep breath. She tried not to think about the size of the dragon’s teeth approaching her as she reached down and grabbed a hold of a silver tendril of her power.

Yes please! It seemed to cry. Let me out to play. Let me make new friends.

Just as Eris had taught her, a ball of silver fire began to dance in the palm of Nesta’s hand. The dragon paused, lowering its head even further towards her hand. Nesta tensed up, but her flames had other plans – they flickered in the direction of the dragon, almost as if they were excited to greet it.

The silver beast made a low rumbling noise in response, and pressed its nose into Nesta’s hand, just as the black dragon did with Eris. She gasped, expecting her flames to burn the creature’s nose and cause a wake of destruction, yet it did not flinch from her fire. Its eyes met Nesta’s, and she felt as if her very soul was being gazed into, as if the dragon could see every raw, vulnerable part of her. The scales were smooth against Nesta’s slightly shaky hand, hotter than the warmest coals yet they did not burn her. Her flames danced along the scales, exploring the dips and horns of the dragons’ head. But it did not seem to mind, only continuing to gaze into Nesta’s eyes.

For a moment, she was overcome with emotion. The sensation of touching a creature so mighty, so powerful, one that she thought only existed in the stories she read. But then she, too, was now a creature that existed in storybooks. One that was admired for its beauty yet feared for its power, much like the very beast before her. It looked at her with such understanding, such intensity Nesta felt like she could both crumble on the spot and conquer the world at the same time.

“Her name is Athariel,” Eris’ voice broke her out of her trance. “I figured you’d like her. The one with me is Morgoth, and the golden one is Zorzimril.”

“I…” Nesta swallowed her emotion, tentatively stroking the dragon’s scales. It made a purring sound, the silver flames dancing around it excitedly.

“I found their eggs here just over a century ago.” Eris explained, his voice echoing in the chamber. “I thought they were rocks. There were rumours of dragons existing at the beginning of the world, but the last rumour comes from the wild hunt. No proof of them existed, until I found the eggs. No amount of research helped me figure out how to un-petrify them, until I felt them call to me. I used my magic and lit the hottest fire I could manage, placing the eggs inside them. A few hours later, they hatched. I’ve been raising them in secret for almost 150 years, training them. They are my secret weapon.”

“Like calls to like…” Nesta murmured, observing how her silver flames played with the dragon, who remained unscathed.

Eris smirked, patting Morgoth on the cheek. “Exactly. I have bonded with Morgoth, and I figured you and Athariel would be a good match. You can learn a lot from her, and she can help you conquer your fear. From everything I’ve learned over the past century, they’re loyal beasts. If you bond with her, she will defend you fiercer than anyone in this realm.”

The thought of this powerful creature looking out for Nesta made her overwhelmed with emotion. Maybe they were both seen as monsters by the rest of the world, but they could face it together, if Athariel let her. Nesta thought back to all the times she felt true fear – at the Hewn City, Illyria, the battlefield, there was no trace of that now. Somehow, she felt safer with this dragon than she had in the Night Court.

Nesta glanced at Zorzimril, the golden beast. “What about her?”

Eris sighed, resting his shoulder against Morgoth’s head. “I had hoped that with (Y/N) here, she would bond with her. It seems like fate, does it not, Nesta Archeron? Three of us, three dragons. I am not particularly religious, but it seems the Mother has set this out for us. Zorzimril is the reason I still have hope that we will find (Y/N).”

taglist (comment if you want to be added): @queercontrarian @kitkat-writes-stuff @moonfawnx @sevikas-whore @weird-and-wise @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @kingshitonly @ladyofcherries @eerievixen @readingwritingwatching @peacecoffeeandflowers @a-frog-with-a-laptop @shadowqueen25 @lana08 @highladyofillyria @rachelnicolee @ladespedidas @little-darlingo @manonblackbeakquidditchteam13 @demirunner @terorovaerangi @hauntedandhopeful  @younxii @microwaveallthedemons @fanfictioniseverything @lovra974 @maddietheshoe @peaceandcrackers @emy1-9 @lostinfantasyworldsbi @issybee0611 @thoughtfulshepherdmongerkid @belledawnidk @whhyyynottt @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @littlebbb @piceous21 @sevendeadlyshins-blog @searchingford  @marigold-morelli @thesapphiclibrarian @

[sunflowerdroplet]

Paging Doctor Duck Ch. 5

“So much for clear skies for the rest of the week…” Donald grumbled softly, massaging his war-injured shoulder as rain fell heavily from dark grey skies.

It was a late, chilly, wet Friday evening and Donald had just finished doing his rounds, checking up on his resting patients and the nurses. Everything seemed to be in order, but the doctor, for some reason, felt uneasy, on edge.

“Is everything alright, Doctor D?” asked Roxanne as she fell in step with her senior colleague. In one of her hands was a clipboard and in the other was styrofoam cup filled with her usual pick-me-up green tea. “You seem more agitated than usual.”

“Hey Pop-rocks. I’m okay, just feeling a bit…I dunno…nervous? Anxious?” He couldn’t think of the right word at the moment but shot the younger doctor a reassuring grin all the same. “I think it’s just the rain getting to me.”

Roxanne’s gaze fell on the window that displayed the powerful thunderstorm raging outside. The rain fell in slanted sheets which made visibility nearly impossible. She bit her lip, worried about possible power outages and flooding. “I understand. Dreary weather like is never fun. Especially since it causes us to tend to more patients here.”

*BUZZ-BUZZ*

“Case in point…” muttered Donald, yanking out his beat-up pager to see the alert, Roxanne doing the same.

“Looks like duty calls,” said the female doctor with a shrug and smile.

“Looks like it…” the duck replied with a sigh. “Good luck, Pop-rocks.”

“You, too, Dr. D!” she looked back out the window at the driving rain. “…Something tells me we’re in for a busy day…”

~*OoO*~

Just as Dr. Roxanne predicted, the floodgates opened, and the hospital was flooded with patients due to the raging storm. Doctors and nurses were all scrambling to tend to the rapid influx of people, shouting over each other as they worked desperately to help their patients.

Donald ignored the increased pain in his shoulder as he worked hard to treat his current patient, an older, unconscious hound with a profusely bleeding arm. His hands moved quickly, yet steadily as he wrapped the unconscious man’s arm with a thick bandage. But just as he finishing up, Nurse Clarabelle’s voice rang through his ears.

“We need any available doctor and nurses to room #133 for a multiple stab victim in critical condition! Male, species: parrot, race: Brazilian! Please inform Dr. Roxanne when she finishes up with her current patient!”

Donald felt himself freeze up upon hearing the cow’s words, hoping against hope that she wasn’t talking about who he thought she was talking about. Worry and dread filled him, and he wanted nothing more than to check, but was stopped by Nurse Minnie’s soft voice.

“Are you okay, Dr. Donald?”

The duck snapped out of his stupor and immediately resumed his work, though his hands now held a slight tremble. The only thing he could do now was have faith that Roxanne or who was available could help him.

‘Please be okay, Joe…’ Donald offered up a silent prayer. ‘Please, please be okay…’

~*0o0*~

Two hours later, and the storm and the people just kept coming.

Donald choked down the rest of his apple cinnamon muffin and near-scalding coffee (courtesy of Max, who was bringing quick refreshments to the haggard medical staff) as he allowed himself five minutes of rest in the hospital’s breakroom. He had just checked in with his nephews’ babysitter, and besides the temporary power outage, the triplets were fine, which was a load off Donald’s already over-burdened mind.

José was thankfully out of surgery, but was still heavily sedated for the time being, his condition unfortunately, still unstable. Donald made plans to see him after he was finished with his other patients. A nauseating amount of regret of him transferring care to Roxanne was starting to hit him.

‘Nothing I can do about that now,’ the duck thought sullenly, crumbling up his trash and tossing it into the garbage bin. He rose from his chair just as the breakroom door opened.

“…Dr. Donald…”

Donald looked up to see Roxanne making her approach. He started to smile until he saw the distraught look on her normally cheerful face. His anxiety instantly sky-rocketed.

“W-What? What is it?!” the duck asked with caution.

“Oh, Dr. Doctor Donald…!” the red-head began tearfully. “It…it’s Panchito…!”

The news nearly floored Donald to the point where he had grab onto the armchair to keep himself upright. Not only was José injured, but Panchito was as well?! He forced his mind to focus as Roxanne tearfully tried to explain his injuries and how he was being prepped for surgery as they speak. Her shoulders shook as she struggled to keep to calm, tears pooling in her dark brown eyes. This was one of the pitfalls of working as a medical professional; one day you’ll have to save a loved one from a life-or-death situation. The additional fear of having their life in your hands, knowing that at any moment you could feel them take their last breath was something Donald had dealt with all the time back in the war. He had years of experience from his time in the service and at the hospital to draw from to maintain the cool, iron control for dealing with such stressful situations.

The younger doctor did not.

She would, in good time, gain the ability to compartmentalize one day. Until then, he as the senior doctor would help her through this.  The duck stepped forward and gently placed his hands on Roxanne’s quivering shoulders. “Breath, Dr. Roxanne. Remember the breathing exercises that you had me do whenever I need to keep my temper and not punch an already injured person?”

His comment thankfully got a wet giggle out of her before she followed his instructions. Deep breath in, hold for five seconds, and then exhale. They repeated this process until the trembling in Roxanne’s body finally faded. “You got this, Dr. Roxanne,” encouraged Donald, squeezing her shoulders again.

“…Thanks, Dr. D,” she said. The light in her eyes now shining once again. “I’ll make sure José and Panchito will be okay. All our patients will be okay!”

Donald smiled proudly and pet her on the head. “I know you will.”

~*0o0*~

In between patients, Donald made a quick visit to the waiting room and sure enough, Panchito’s mother was there along Señor Martinez. Upon seeing him enter the room, they rushed over to him with tears in their eyes. Donald accepted the bone-crushing hug and slobbery kiss as he did his best to comfort them.

“Oh Donal’! This is muy terrible! Nothing like this has ever happened before! It was raining so hard and one of the staff members was trying to take the b-bulls back to their pens! But, but the rain made them lose their grip on the r-ropes and Panchito wasn’t able to get out of the way fast enough...! A-And to hear that poor José is also hurt! Please tell me they will be alright!”

“Both of them will be fine,” Donald reassured. “They’re currently being treated by a colleague of mine, and I trust her more than any other doctor here to treat them!” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief for her to dry her eyes. “Please have faith that they’ll be okay.”

The mother hen wiped her eyes and nodded. “I-I will.”

Seeing that the mother was still distraught, Donald wracked his brain to give her a distraction while they waited. An idea soon came to mind. “Hey Mama Maria, do you think you could help me with something? In fact, you’d be helping the hospital and making your son very happy.”

“I am happy to help with anything, Donal’. Just say the word.”

The duck took her hand. “Then please follow me.”

In no time, the doctor led them to the hospitals cafeteria, where the cooks were working tirelessly to provide food for everyone. Despite his complaints about their lack of skills in the kitchen, he knew they were trying their best.

“Mama Maria, I’d like you to meet our kitchen staff. They could use a lesson or two in making tasty meals for our guests, so I give you permission to command them as you see fit, because they really, really, need the direction. Can you do that for us, Mama?”

The Mexican female’s eyes seemed to sharpen now that she had a task and gave a firm nod. “I can. I will have this place ship-shape!”

“I know you will, “ Donald replied with a smile before turning to the kitchen staff to get their attention. “Everyone! This is Mama Maria, and she’s going to be helping you guys out in the kitchen! Treat her well, and listen to her instructions, okay?”

They all nodded, no doubt fearful of what would happen to them if they were to disagree. Satisfied, he wished everyone good luck before taking Señor Martinez’s reins to lead him to their next destination. “Oh, and Mama Maria, please try to make the dishes as mild as you can; not everyone has your son’s spice tolerance!”

The next stop was to the children’s ward. Donald spotted Minnie and several other nurses tending to the children there. It broke his heart anytime he saw kids hurt, but thankful despite the terrible weather none of the children were seriously injured and were in high spirits due in part to Max bringing in his video games for them to play.  The female mouse glanced up at him and smiled before her eyes went wide upon seeing the horse.

“Oh my!” she squeaked as Señor Martinez happily greeted her with an affectionate nuzzle.

“Hey Minns, I brought the kids a special guest.”

“I can see that!” Minnie replied with a giggle, softly stroking the horse’s muzzle.

Donald led the beast further into the room, the clopping of the horse’s hooves easily gaining everyone’s attention. They all gawked as he brought the horse into the center of the room. “Children, I like you all to meet Señor Martinez!”

Predictably, they all squealed in delight and gathered around Señor Martinez, happily petting his soft fur.

“Be nice and gentle with them and I promise to give you all the snacks you want, okay?”

The old, grey horse nickered and gave him one last lick before Donald had to leave to make 14 different phone calls to a certain group of females to let them know of José’s thankfully improving condition.

~*0o0*~

It was 01:45 am when the tide of people finally ebbed. Donald was dead on his feet, and yet he kept himself moving as he peeked into each room to make sure his patients were resting comfortably; the great news that both José and Panchito both were in stable condition and were recovering nicely in a shared room giving him the energy to continue.

Mama Maria was taken home by Señor Martinez once the skies cleared and made Donald promise to let her know if there were any changes in Panchito and José’s conditions before giving him a bone-crushing hug. Donald made sure to thank her and the horse both for all their help today.

As he made his way through the lobby, the duck spotted Max and Roxanne huddled together on one of the couches, Roxanne’s head resting on Max’s shoulder. They both looked completely worn out, unsurprisingly after a day like today.

“Hey Doctor D,” Roxanne greeted with an exhausted smile. “We managed to survive today…”

“We sure did, Pop-rocks,” the older male replied with a smile, reaching over and petting her head again. “I’m so proud of you. You too, Max.” he added, squeezing the younger male’s shoulder.

“W-What?!” hiccupped Max with wide eyes. “B-But I didn’t do much! You two were the ones who…”

“Max,” Donald interrupted. “If it wasn’t for you and the rest of the cleaning staff working as tirelessly as you did, us doctors wouldn’t have a clean space to treat our patients as quickly as we did. More than that, you personally went above and beyond your duties when you go out of your to entertain the children. Trust me, it’s a lot easier for us to treat the little ones after you’ve played with them.” He squeezed Max’s shoulder again. “Everyone’s job is important here, Max.”

“I told you, Max~” Roxanne teased with a sleepy giggle.

Max nodded sheepishly, his dark brown eyes looking a little damp thanks to the unexpected praise. “I…thanks, you guys…”

Donald glanced outside and stared up at the blessedly clear skies. “Why don’t you two head on home now since it’s stopped raining? We all need to rest after today like this one.”

“Okay, Dr. D,” replied the younger two.

With a smile and wave, Donald departed and made his way to the room where Panchito and José were resting in. The space was quiet, save for the twin beeping of the heart-monitors and Donald tried his best not to disturb that peace while his friends rested. Slowly and carefully, he looked over their heavily bandaged bodies. José’s entire torso was heavily bandaged from his stab wounds while Panchito’s head and chest were bandaged thanks to nearly being trampled to death by an out-of-control bull.

They were both so quiet and still in a way Donald wasn’t used to. It was…unnatural to see them this way. “To think it would take the both of you nearly dying for you to be quiet,” the doctor said with a jaded chuckle. He blinked when he felt something warm and wet on his cheeks, he reached up and was surprised to find tears there. What’s worse, they wouldn’t stop.

To think he almost lost two friends in one night…his two best friends. He felt his body tremble as the stress from last night caught up to him. It had been close, too close. If either one of them had died, Donald would’ve been heartbroken, but if both had died? Donald might’ve just keeled over right then and there. Once again, he silently thanked Roxanne and the nurses for saving their lives; he owed them big time.

Carefully, he reached out and touched their too still hands. “Please, don’t ever get hurt like this again,” he quietly begged. “I’ll listen all your songs, and watch your dances, and attend all of your shows…just please…don’t ever scare me like this again…”

After gently squeezing their hands, Donald made his way to a navy blue recliner chair in the corner of room and settled into it with a world-weary sigh. With the steady beat of the heart-monitors in his ears, Donald fell into a deep sleep.

TO BE CONTINUED~*

[alrightsnaps]

Other than the genderswap twist what did you think of season 3? If you'd rather not talk about bridgerton feel free to ignore xx

All of it was a big no for me tbh

The leading couple was predictably boring and underwhelming as hell (which was expected), but the rest of the season felt super meh too.

Kate and Anthony coming and going instead of having an actual arc... to the point of having a heavily pregnant Kate undergoing a long and physically straining journey to India (and by the way no, this wasn't done to phase them out and explain their absence in season 4 because Simone has spoken about coming back next season. So they're literally having them doing express trips to a different continent in under 6 months for no reason). No baby Edmund even though there was time for the Featherington sisters children. Not even a pregnancy announcement to the Bridgerton family, just Violet and Lady D.

Benedict’s “vital” role of the season was apparently whoring around yet again, except this time he's completely forgotten about his art too?? Y’know the one thing that's supposed to be central to his character arc??

Eloise was predictably robbed of any character growth and there wasn't even a proper resolution to her and Penelope’s conflict. She just forgave her overnight for some reason?

The Whistledown reveal had 0 impact or consequences by the Queen even though last season we were led to believe things were so dire Penelope had absolutely no other choice but to out her best friend as a political radical and a fallen woman. We legit didn't even get a reaction by the Bridgerton family when they found out the girl they'd spent their lives treating like family was out there trashing them for years.

Cressida’s arc was underwhelming to the extreme and she was once again reduced to a cartoonish villain for the sake of Penelope's redemption. I also think I officially reached my limit with the Cowper family after season 3 and I hope they don't turn out to be Sophie's family cause I've grown sick of them.

Other than the genderswap I'm not sure how I feel about Francesca’s overall characterisation this season? Yes, book!Frannie was supposed to be different from the rest of her family, in the sense that she wasn't as over-the-top, super dramatic as the rest of the Bridgertons, but she seems to have undergone a complete personality change in the show. Francesca is someone who had her boundaries but she was also easygoing and comfortable and witty around her family and loved ones. CVD gave us a glimpse of that with Ruby’s Francesca but Jess Brownell made her into a painfully shy and socially anxious individual. And that's just not her in the books. Compare her scene of playful banter and flirting with Michael in WHWW to her being practically tongue-tied when she met Michaela.

And of course the elephant in the room, which is her relationship with John. A season of building their love story reduced to Francesca being disappointed by their kiss and falling for another person on their wedding day...That's Jess Brownell's version of bisexuality? Cause frankly it's insulting.

Add to that the atrocious costumes and makeup that make the show feel less than a period drama and more like Hunger Games Capitol cosplay. The entire show just feels off, dull and tedious to get through.

That's not really what I signed up for back in season 1. And like, I see many people jumping to defend the show with the “bridgerton was never historically accurate” argument but that's just bs. We know season 1 wasn't historically accurate! No one is asking for it to be a documentary. But it used to feel like a period drama. Through the costumes, the makeup, the dialogue, the world building. That's just not there anymore. The showrunner change is felt and since she's here for the long run I'm afraid the good days of the show are behind it.

I shudder to think what she's gonna do with Sophie’s character..

[piedpiperart]

Menagerie part 2

PART ONE

Izuku came home that night buzzing with excitement. And dread. And years worth of repressed emotions. All this time he thought he was quirkless- everyone did- but that wasn't true? And he didn’t entirely know why it manifested so late or if it had just been active the whole time but either way he was trying not to freak out about it. 

He needed to tell his mom. Eraserhead had told him to let her know about the change in schedule, and that the school would take care of his training for his quirk in place of his last few weeks at Aldera as well as lunches and things like that so he wouldn’t be behind when he started at UA, but…what was he going to tell his mom?

“Hey mom, you know how we sort of avoid each other and you ignore me all the time because I’m quirkless? Yeah well turns out I’m not, and that basically all these years of you treating me like I was worthless were unnecessary? Because I have a quirk now, so we can go back to how it was when I was four and you actually loved me?” 

No. He couldn’t say that. Izuku didn’t know if he even wanted to talk to his mom about it. Part of him thought she would get mad, and a part of him hoped everything would go back to before, even though he wasn’t so sure it could go back to that after everything that happened, or if things would just stay the same. Izuku shook his head. No, he needed to tell her so he could train at UA. 

“Mom?” He called, even though he had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn’t home. Like always. Izuku wandered over to the kitchen counter where an empty to-go container sat and a note saying she’d be gone for all of next week. Izuku sighed, figuring he'd just text her about it in a vague way and hoped she didn’t come home to yell at him.

Ignoring the building pressure in his chest, he swept the to-go container into the trash and got to work making a cup of ramen for dinner. It was his usual go-to meal when it was nearing the end of the week. Inko only ever gave him money for very few groceries at the beginning of the week, and that was only when she was there. Thankfully, after a few tries Izuku managed to learn to get less…expirable foods. It wasn’t ideal, but just how their relationship worked. 

Only this time he went to bed happy, able to text his new friend while he ate dinner. It  made his cold and dark apartment feel less gloomy, and he almost forgot about texting his mom about the day. 

Izuku told his mom via text that they needed to talk about his school, and his…quirk, in the morning. He was making ramen yet again for breakfast, only this time with an egg. It was a sort of tradition for him to add an egg for his breakfast ramen because it made him feel more productive and healthy. Even if it was just an egg and he's really just lying to himself to feel better about his situation. The woman didn’t respond, or even read the text, and Izuku had a passing thought that his number was on mute. Sighing, he still got ready for the day. Since it was a Saturday, he didn’t have to worry about running into Kacchan when he left the house early for UA. 

While texting Uraraka the whole time on the train, Izuku was practically vibrating with excitement about being able to train his quirk, HIS quirk, at UA with the Eraserhead! To say he was excited was an understatement. The excitement also helped him stifle the feelings around his previous quirklessness and his mom too, so he was sure nothing could ruin his mood. 

“Except,'' he thought, “Something that would absolutely be horrifying if all of it turned out to be a one time thing.” What if he could never do it again? What if it was only Uraraka he could do it with? What if he was hurting her or something and was forced to never use his quirk again? What if he was still quirkless and it was all a big elaborate plan? Izuku knew some of these things were not worth worrying about, because they probably would never happen, but still, he was worried. 

Izuku continued to be worried for the rest of the train ride, and throughout the time it took for him to walk up to the UA’s big fancy intimidating gates. That is, until Uraraka arrived. 

“Izuku!!” She exclaimed, waving as fast as humanly possible as she speed-walked up to him. “Are you ready to figure out your quirk?!”

Izuku laughed,  “I’m still trying to convince myself it wasn’t a dream.”

“Nonsense!” Ochako said, looping her arm around his and walking to the gates together. “Today will be awesome and you’ll learn all about your quirk and we’ll be at UA with Pro Heroes and-and yeah!“

“Yeah,” Izuku nodded determinedly. “Yeah, you’re right. I-I can do this.”

“That's the spirit!” Ochako exclaimed, pumping her fist in the air. 

“A-and thank you!” Izuku said, turning to face her with a bit of a blush. “Thank you for being here for me. With me, I mean, I wouldn’t have learned I had a quirk without you and-and this really means a lot.”

With tears in her eyes, ochako smiled. “Well, it is what a hero would do, right?”

“Plus, I’m excited to see what your quirk does! This is a pretty cool discovery, and our combined…form? I’ve been calling it ZuRa, it has unlimited quirk potential!” She rambled, easing both of their nerves. They went on like that the rest of the way, maybe getting lost a bit because of it too. 

“Problem children,” Eraserhead sighed. The two looked sheepish, but determined to start whatever hellish training Eraserhead had planned. He sighed, not even questioning how they managed to get lost on the first day of training despite the fact that he knew they’d arrived on campus through the gate well before the allotted time. 

“Alright, we’re going to see Recovery Girl first,” Eraserhead muttered, leading the kids away from the staff room and down the hall to the medical wing. 

“W-why Recovery Girl?” Ochako asked, trailing behind the pro hero with Izuku at her side. 

Before Eraserhead could respond, the green haired boy chimed in with “Oh! Is it because it's technically classified as a body-modification quirk?” He asked, not even pausing for the answer before he plowed on with his explanation. “Since we don’t know what happens to our organs when we fuse together and if it has any long-lasting effects on us afterwards,” Midoriya explained, turning to Ochako. 

“You were okay yesterday, right?” Izuku asked. 

Ochako waved him off,”Yeah! Recovery Girl checked over that stuff like you asked her to when she fixed my ankle. I feel right as rain!”

Eraserhead sighed. These kids were way too cheerful so early in the morning. When they arrived at the door, he turned to the students, “You both got parental permission for this? The school also sent out emails about it in case the y need more information and paperwork to sign, but everything you filled out for the school for the exams is the same.”

“Yep!” Ochako beamed, while the green haired boy was looking a little pale, “I wasn’t in school anyways so I won’t be changing much. I would have just had two weeks of free time.”

After realizing the attention had switched to him, Midoriya’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck, “Um, my mom wasn’t home last night, but I texted her about it.”

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed a bit, adding the kid’s home life as something to look into, not that he wasn’t planning on it before. But just in case the boy was in a situation that needed immediate solutions. “And?” Aizawa prodded. 

“S-she hasn’t gotten back to me yet, b-but I’m sure I can ask her about i-it tonight!” Izuku stammered. Aizawa hummed, but decided to let it go for now. With that, he led them to Recovery Girl’s office. 

The place was empty of students, but Recovery girl was at the edge of one of the beds that looked just prepared. “Have a seat Dearies,” She called, patting the bed and pittering over to the machines next to it to do who knows what. 

The kids gave each other nervous but excited glances before going over to sit side by side on the bed. Aizawa himself took a seat in the one comfy office chair by the door. He crossed his arms and pretended to fall asleep to give them a bit of privacy, but he was keeping an eye on them just in case. 

“Alright, I’ll be doing some basic checkups. Most are standard for body-modification quirks, and the others are just to check your health in general so we know if theres any negative changes after your quirk,” Recovery Girl mentioned, walking them through each of the steps. Aizawa noticed the two paid attention to each others results and asked questions about recognizing signs. His lips quirked up at the sides, knowing that these two would be a hell of a hero duo. Both were compassionate, and responsible enough in this situation to understand the seriousness of messing with people’s bodies. 

“Would meditation help if most of the decisions on which parts of us go where are subconscious decisions or compromises are by both of our thoughts? Like the last time, we still had my freckles, but our hair was a middle ground, or a mix of both of us,” Izuku asked, pausing in writing in his notebook. Uraraka looked a little lost, but nodded along anyways. 

“It seems that when you fuse, your bond with each other links your thoughts so a construct of your fused person is created based on both of your preferences,” Recovery Girl stated. “Usually that is the case, but it may differ depending on the type of bond. We can come back to it later, but yes, meditation would help.” Izuku scribbled more things in his notebook, and Uraraka subtly leaned over to take a peek at what he was writing. She was mildly surprised to see a cute drawing of their fused form, or what he remembered them to look like. Uraraka smiled at the detailed artwork, wondering if they’d be taking art classes at UA.

“It can help with your perception of yourself, and give a clearer image of your fused appearance or details in powers,” Recovery Girl continued, wrapping up a few notes on the computer. “You’ll want to keep in contact with the school counselor for different coping mechanisms. From what I’ve heard, such link between minds can be overwhelming at times.”

The two kids nodded seriously, both internally wincing that they’d forgotten about the almost mind-reading aspect of Izuku’s quirk. Seeing that, Aizawa knew he made the right decision to train them, knowing they would look out for each other. He stood and stretched, relishing n the way Uraraka jumped at the concerning crack coming from one or two of his joints. The brown haired girl looked mildly concerned for his health, but he elected to ignore it. 

“Alright, lets get to the gym before we run out of time,” Aizawa said after a wave from Recovery Girl. The two hyper kids jumped off the bed with a thank you to Recovery Girl and bounded after him. “We’ll  be taking the training lightly, just to figure out the scope of your quirk,” Aizawa said, opening the doors to the gym and letting the two in. “Recovery Girl will join us in a bit, so for now I’ll lead you through some stretches.”

“Okay!” The two called, rushing over to the sidelines to put their things away and back to where Aizawa was standing close to the middle of the room. Izuku had a worn, beat-up looking yellow backpack with a plastic water bottle and a bunch of notebooks, meanwhile, Uraraka had a small drawstring bag with snacks and water. Eyeing the yellow bag, Aizawa made yet another note to look into the green-haired kid’s homelife.  

The kids were led through stretches in comfortable silence, and before they knew it Recovery Girl had arrived with her supplies. She was there to monitor their fused body’s health, and if anything went wrong she’d be able to help. Unbeknownst to the kids, a quirk like Izuku’s was rare. Body modification quirks with a mental aspect such as Izuku’s usually weren’t so extensive, and for it to alter the other person’s quirk as well? It was insanely rare. 

Aizawa knew they were lucky to have the kid’s quirk start in a controlled environment, but it was worrisome. How did it take the kid 10 years for his quirk to activate? If what Recovery Girl siad before, Izuku had to have a type of bond with the person he fuses with. Did that mean the kid had no friends? Was Uraraka the only positive relationship this kid has had over the course of ten years? To say that Aizawa was concerned was an understatement. Especially if what he knew about quirkless discrimination was true. It worried him. 

Unfortunately, once they started actually practicing Izuku’s quirk, he couldn’t figure out how it worked. “I- I think it works with contact, “Izuku went over again,”And the feelings Uraraka and I both share about each other… And I can feel, like, this warmth? I guess? Whenever we make contact, but..”

“You just don’t know how to activate the fusing part?” Uraraka asked, still holding onto Izuku’s left hand. She couldn’t really feel anything, but she didn’t last time either. Izuku nodded. 

“Last time, I didn’t really think about it, I was just trying to pull you out of the rubble, but..” Izuku’s mutters trailed off. Uraraka started absentmindedly swinging their hands back and forth. “Maybe we have to be… doing something?”

Aizawa nodded. “Its possible that there’s a trigger for both of you to get to the fusion part. Based on usual quirk activation, it can be adrenaline, a goal, danger, or just tapping into the feeling you mentioned before. Go slow,” he said. “We have time to figure this out. Rushing will only generate mistakes.”

Izuku let out a shaky breath,” Right.” 

Uraraka bit her lip. Glancing down she noticed his hands were shaking. Was he nervous? She shook her head. “I have an idea?”

Everyone turned to her, and she explained. “What if we try to do something together that requires both of us to cooperate? But something to get you relaxed!” She pointed out. Izuku rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Here. Lets just try something simple.”

She put both her hands out in front of her, waiting for Izuku to take them. Without hesitating, he lightly grasped her own. “Okay, now follow my lead.”

Izuku almost immediately stumbled when she started moving her feet forwards and back, yet keeping their hands together. “D-Dancing?” Izuku stumbled, trying to follow allong as best he can. 

“Yeah!” Uraraka laughed, moving across in a different direction. Izuku followed, focusing on not stepping on her feet. Or his own. “Its something relaxing to do together, but we.. have to work as one to complete the dance! Together!”

Uraraka broke away to twirl before coming back, and Izuku laughed. He forgot about Aizawa and Recovery Girl watching them, and just swayed to whatever made up beat Uraraka was making. He couldn’t remember the last time he goofed around with someone, much less danced with them. It felt.. Nice. Really nice. 

“Dip me!” Uraraka called, smiling brightly as she twirled and fell towards him. He felt a bit of panic, but his heart soared at the trust she had in him. When they made contact, he could feel the warmth surrounding them, and eventually they were enveloped in a bright light. 

Aizawa squinted at the bright light, but was impressed at Uraraka’s ability to get the nervous kid to relax. He had expected learning to activate the quirk would have take all day. He blinked, looking at the significantly taller figure laughing in front of him. 

“Yes!” They exclaimed, their arms up in the air. Their arms fell back down to their sides as they looked at themself in awe and relief. “I can’t believe dancing actually worked..”

“Of course it would!” They said, almost like a conversation to themself. “We needed teamwork, a bond, and contact. What better than danger or dancing?” They snorted to themselves. 

“Good job,” Aizawa called, and the kids froze, no doubt just remembering there were other people in the gym besides them. Their face turned red. “Have Recovery Girl check you out before trying anything else. Have you decided what you want to call yourself in this form?”

Their eyes widened, and they absently put a strand of curly dark green hair behind their ear. “Probably they/them,” They muttered, walking towards Recovery Girl’s  setup. “Maybe… Zu.. Ra? Like Zura? Ochaku?”

Aizawa sighed fondly as the kids delved into mutterings about the perfect combo of their names. They were good kids, that was for sure. He was just worried. A quirk like this was extremely rare, and might be dangerous in some cases. If what he saw at the etrance exam was what he thought, then some quirks could make a dangerous combination. Could the kid even fuse with more than one person? Aizawa shook his head, trying to get the thought of Present Mic and Midnight fused together out of his brain. This kid was definitely going to be a Problem Child. 

After a minute, the kids perked up, looking back towards Aizawa. “We decided on Zura! They/them pronouns, but we don’t mind him or her either.” Aizawa nodded. Zura couldn’t stop smiling and muttering. It seemed he wouldn’t need to deal with accidental quirk use though, since apparently Uraraka’s knowledge about her own quirk control passed over. 

A few minutes passed of Recovery Girl checking them over, Aizawa had Zura run through stretches again, and then a quirk assessment test. It would be almost exactly like the one he’d do for the beginning of class, but it was more personalized to Uraraka’s quirk. It seemed like Izuku’s quirk combined their strength and stamina, making it more enhanced than normal for either of them. 

They found that Zura’s quirk was more like telekinesis, but with the ability to lessen or greaten an object or person’s gravity if they were in range. It was unlike Uraraka’s own quirk, who couldn’t increase gravity on something, and had a limit for how many objects she could hold in the air. It was interesting to see that two contact based quirks combined to have no contact at all. They reasoned that some things were probably canceled out, and the quirk can manifest in different ways. 

About an hour in though, and Zura started to flag. Recovery Girl took their vitals again, and then they went through the steps to de-transform. Aizawa was mildly surprised when a poof of air and a comical ‘pop’ sounded, and the two kids fell apart. It was a little amusing. 

“That was so cool!” Uraraka exclaimed, immediately getting to her feet. Izuku on the other hand, was shakily getting up from the ground. Alarmed, Aizawa went over and crouched in front of him. 

“Are you alright?” Aizawa asked, searching the kids face for any sign of pain. He seemed okay, other than the shakiness and pale skin. 

 Izuku huffed out a laugh, “y-yeah. Just.. just really tired.” 

“You probably overused your quirk a bit,” Aizawa commented, helping him get situated on the floor. “Just sit here, Recovery Girl can check you over.” Izuku nodded, and he turned to Uraraka, who was watching worriedly a few steps away. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel good! Not really tired, only like I was on a run or something,” Uraraka noted. “Maybe Mido’s more tired cuz he uses more energy to keep us together.” 

Aizawa tilted his head in acknowledgement, turning back to Izuku. Recovery Girl was already next to him, taking blood pressure and such. “Looks like just extreme exhaustion,” Recovery Girl said, “But I’ll make sure nothing else is bothering him.”

Izuku just groaned,” I feel like every muscle in my body is sore.” 

Aizawa smiled in his creepy smile,” Well its a good thing we’re practicing now. You’ll get used to it.”

Izuku grimaced in his direction, but his eyes sparkled with determination. The rest of the time, they wet over questions about Zura, how they felt mentally, and if they could read eachother’s minds or see memories. Neither of them could access memories, but they hadn’t tried. The most significant part was that they could feel eachothers emotions, and communicate without words as one person to make Zura move and such. It was weird, describing what it felt like to be a different person. But both concluded it wasn’t a bad experience, and that the feelings of trust they had with one another kept them together. 

Aizawa understood it was a difficult thing to explain, but they were both excited about it. Especially when Recovery Girl said it was unlikely for them to have any negative side effects or anything. Apparently there were built in safety precautions for Izuku’s quirk to protect the users. It was good to know. 

“I think the most difficult thing is fusing, like in the beginning,” Izuku mentioned, tking a sip from his water bottle. “Theres so many different things leading up to it, like trust, contact, and then the, “Izuku went red,”dancing.”

“What about it?” Uraraka asked, mouth full of some kind of bread snack she had in her bag. 

“I mean, that’s probably why I never found out about my quirk before now,” Izuku explained. “After I was diagnosed quirkless, I didn’t have any friends or bonds with anyone,” Aizawa and Recovery Girl exchanged a glance, and Izuku huffed a laugh. “You’re the first person to ever want to be my friend in like, ten years.”

Uraraka frowned, setting aside her snack. “Well. I’m glad we met,” She said seriously. “Quirk or not, you’re a wonderful friend. And you’re gonna be a great hero.”

Needless to say, Aizawa had two crying children on his hands. He then did what any normal person would do, and herded them to the lunch room to bother Lunch Rush. 

PART THREE

[ran-orimoto]

What if Chiaki turned into Calmaramon for the first time?

Don’t ask me why I’m always so slow at replying. I promise you I just forget somehow, sorry. And tbh, like I said on tw, my life is a pendulum between forgetting about Chiaki and wanting to write a lot for her and the Wuthering kids in general.

Personally , I hate how Calamaramon was treated as a joke in the show, as if Ranamon has got no feelings. They let her get insulted viciously about her appearance and it was such a sexist moment. Again, I don’t mind it was a matter of control VS lack of control: ignoring that scene was sexist af makes you sexist as well~; just saying~. “Eh, but In japanese-“ Eh but in japanese they still throw so much misogynistic rubbish over her head, which wasn’t necessary at all.

Still, let’s say I can play with this in my trash AU.

And let’s imagine Chiaki ends up finding her Beast spirit when she’s already coping with her emotions as Ranamon, because she has had an argument with Izumi during which she has risked to reveal the sick jelousy she has been cultivating towards the girl.

Izumi seems to have everything. She hasn’t only received her beast spirit before anyone else, but she also receives attention from everyone around her. Probably this nagging emotion of hers starts mounting before Izumi opens up to the group about her new life at school; about how being a foreigner attracted her classmates’ attention on her and they would never leave her alone until she started isolating herself. Chiaki is an egocentric girl, so she can only think about that tale focusing on its most shallow face: “Every classmate of hers gave her attention and she pushed them back!” She can’t notice Izumi’s pain making her eyes twitch and avert their irises from her interlocutors. Chiaki wants attention, but nobody gives her that, except when it comes to Teruo. Still, he can give her a kind of attention Chiaki doesn’t want most times. He can read through her like a mirror and even if she has got a crush on him, she can’t stand that side of his.

Thus, when she finds her Beast spirit, she can only think about the fact she is finally getting something Izumi has got, something that, -who knows-,might be and look better than Shutumon. And as soon as she transforms, all those bitter feelings entoxicating her from head to toe, all those poisonous feelings she has been keeping inside like a cloud that can’t burst into a pouring rain, turn into corroding ink she can finally spit out.

Needless to say who the first, privileged target will be and there’s also no need to specify who will take the reins of the situation in his own way, because even if he has got no Beast spirit yet, Junpei is ready to rumble at anyone who dares to harm Izumi. With tears in his eyes in front of an agitated sea from which Shutumon doesn’t seem to be about to resurface, he starts yelling as hard as he can towards Chiaki: she is a sea witch, she has got no hope to find anyone liking her, Izumi is the kindest, the most beautiful girl in the world and she’s so jelous she will never be like her.

Shutumon gets rescued by the Gomamon who manage to help her (finally the bbies are useful to something). As soon as she reaches Sunlight again, she is ready to restart her fight at high speed, but she freezes along with her winds as Chiaki starts receding in her human form, tears of guilt and regret staining her cheeks like if they still were ink.

The sea calms down.

Idk Anon, months have passed! You deserved something longish!

[musingsfromalily]

Assorted Path to Nowhere - Prologue & SALVA Arc Quotes

Just a compilation of lines from the game that can be range from fluffy, soul-crushing, and chaotic. Feel free to alter lines when needed, remember to specify for multimuses!

“Come back to me.... Your battle has begun.”

“Where are you going? It’s not over between us yet... “

“Die, die! The world doesn’t need jails!”

“The elevator will take you to the hidden mezzanine. You will be safe staying there. Don’t leave until help arrives.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“....You want to fight like this?”

“...I’ve crossed the line. ___, you’re stronger than we think.”

“I’m not like those baddies. See? I didn’t cause any trouble, nor did I try to escape.”

“I’ve begged you so many times! Are you gonna let me out or not?!”

“I don’t have time to play with you. Before I count to five, open the door, or I’ll kill you!”

“Keep quiet...Or it’ll be your neck next time...”

“Don’t move.... this child hates when prey struggles.”

“Unlike those people outside, I... We are the real criminals in this place.”

“Let me out! Bastard! Let me kill him! I’ll kill him!”

“Follow your instincts. This is why you exist.”

“No! Stay away from me, no!!!”

“Please give me orders. From now on, I only follow your orders.”

“...I don’t need that name anymore.”

“The most important thing is that you’re alive.”

“This riot is just a diversion. This won’t be her real agenda.”

“Amazing. You guys are still alive. I was worried it would hurt you.”

“I will come back to you when I finish what I need to do.”

“Why didn’t you run away when you had the chance?”

“I don’t need freedom.”

“It’ll be a long time before we can meet again.”

“Who are you....?”

“The secret will be revealed one day, but not now.”

“Look at your cities. Look at what monsters human sin is breeding...”

“___, go witness the end of this revelry. Whatever happens, don’t look away.”

“From now on, you will likely face more insanity, malice, and catastrophes. But it is our duty to hold onto the light in the darkness, and to salvage hope from despair.”

“We have no other choice but him.”

“Why isn’t the Public Security Bureau stepping in?”

“I’ll try to keep you alive for a bit longer.”

“We need to be CIVILIZED and POLITE without our words to maintain our image of our Syndicate.”

“You find saints in churches and drunks in hostels.”

“We walk with the ten devils.”

“But I’m just putting it out there--I hate gangsters. This jerk is definitely just using us. Don’t trust him too much, dumbass.”

“I surrender! Lord, surrender! Lord ___, stop!”

“I have no choice in Syndicate. I need to know how to fake it to survive!”

“Yuck! You’re Minos’s trash!”

“Huh? No, no, no! I’m just a useless loser. I can’t be of much help.”

“At least don’t put me in the front row in a fight!”

"Get your men to treat them with respect.”

“But why should you consider their feelings? They are just your tools, and you are their master.”

“Do you know how much I respect you?”

“If you don’t discipline your dog, we will!”

“Want to take revenge?”

“I take our cooperation very seriously.”

“A fight like this is more direct than a verbal argument. I can see you already know how to socialize with the Syndicans.”

“I don’t actually believe him. It’s just back-scratching.”

“That’s fine. If he betrays us, we’ll be able to deal with him.”

“If this makes you a monster, then what about me who binds you with the ‘shackles’ ?”

“Before dumping you, I’ll help you one more time. You should cherish this opportunity.”

“Don’t waste your time, I’m not going to tell you anything.”

“I’m sorry I was so slow.”

“Forget it... I already knew you were a freak.”

“Those guys weren’t friends, we just used each other for what we needed.”

“...What are YOU mad about? It doesn’t make any sense, it doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“....So much sweat. You must be very anxious. You’re safe now.”

”They will try to kill you any way they can.”

“Mania distorts humans, while doctors restore their sanity. This is my duty.”

“You can investigate her or arrest her. I owe you one, but it will have to be after she wakes up.”

“Until today, no one knows exactly where Mania comes from. It has been spreading in Syndicate since many years ago.”

“....All I want is for Mania to disappear.”

“It was just a nightmare! It’s not real! Wake up! I’m here holding your hand right now, waiting for you to come back!”

“Mania isn’t power and mutation. It’s an irreversible mental breakdown.”

“She doesn’t want to turn into a monster.”

“I’ve made my own judgment.”

“You need to hold on. Stop going down the wrong track. Stop being used by that man.”

“I don’t want well-meaning lies! I don’t need it....Please tell me the truth.”

“Stop playing tricks! Your life is mine, dead or alive. You must obey my orders! Kill them!”

“Then, tell me ___.... Can I still be saved?”

“I’ll save you.”

“I am the one who binds you. I won’t make you do evil again or let you become a monster.”

“As long as someone is reaching for hope, then you have hope too.”

“You still have somewhere you want to go back to, right?”

“....Is it not too late? Can... I still turn back now...?”

“Let all Sinners go to hell!”

“....I don’t want to fight you here.”

“I’ll let you all die here with these monsters. You deserve it. You’re monsters too!”

“...How did you get here? How are you still alive?”

“You’re a doctor, have you ever killed anyone? Stop pretending. Do you actually dare?”

“... Doctors don’t kill. I only heal.”

“Don’t make such a terrible face, ___. It’s all over.”

“Then give him to me. Don’t dirty your hands over him.”

“It’s time to go, ___. You can’t handle the people who are coming.”

“You’ve already done more than enough. Nothing that happened in Syndicate was your fault. You don’t belong here in the first place.”

“Don’t sink any deeper. Don’t become one of them. Don’t be like me.... you should be the one who keeps clean.”

“Go now. I’ll buy you some time.”

“Ugh....it’s a misunderstanding. I’m just passing by. I’m just too sleepy that I dozed off.”

[captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship]

im new to the acotar fandom but my goodness my heart just melts for gwynriel ❤️ ive been reading some posts on gwynriel/elriel and heres a couple of observations:

1. az for sure lusted over elain, but i dont think he has real feelings for her. or if he thinks he does, its not genuine. it felt like he sort of force himself or lied to himself to have those feelings bc of the fact that az mentioned the 3 brothers and 3 sisters pairing to rhys when he told az off for kissing elain.

2. if sjm straight up said that lucien and elain are mates, that means someone is az’s mate. she may or may not be introduced in the book yet (hoping its gwyn). we all know how much az longs for a mate. once his mating bond snaps to whoever it is, do we really think he would reject or abandon his mate? for elain? this is a guy whos practically desperate for a mate. i dont think he would just choose elain over her bc he lusted over elain for a little while.

Sorry I have left this in my ask box for a million years!!!

yay! I am glad that you love gwynriel too <3 they are such a unique couple and encompass a lot of traits from my favorite SJM couples to create their own dynamic and I cannot wait to see it play out in canon <3

Azriel is a tragic and extremely damaged character. He was denied the love of his mother as a child, and was treated like trash by his family. He never knew love and comfort in his formative years, and all these years later he has never had a healthy attachment to a female. He developed a savior complex at a young age. What people don't realize is that as a coping mechanism for this lack of healthy attachments as a child, he has only ever fallen for women who are emotionally unavailable and he subconsciously knows will never love him back. He fell for Mor because she was miserable in her life and was everything that he couldn't be: warm, bright, and capable of love. He saved her in a way that he couldn't save his mother and took those attachment issues and latched them on to Mor. I think Az knows that she is bi, but subconsciously tortured himself with the idea of this unrequited love because if he lets go of it, he has to finally come to terms with his childhood trauma.

Mor shows time and time again that she can take care of herself, and when she slept with Helion I think that it snapped something in Az that was just a drop of water in the waterfall of his emotional turmoil. Instead of dealing with his trauma and emotions, he finds his next target to transfer his attachment and self loathing issues to and that is Elain. Azriel holds the mating bond in high regards- to the point that he is so worked up about Elain's that he thinks the Cauldron might be wrong. Because he believes that the only way for another female to return his love is for them to be bound to him (which is incredibly unhealthy). However, the scent of the mating bond between Elain and Lucien bothers him so much because he KNOWS that Elain could never be his the way he wants a female to be- but it is easier to keep in the same 500+ year torture pattern than to break the mold. Being with Elain would only further his emotional attachment issues because Elain will always be attached to Lucien in some way- even if she breaks the bond. She will never be fully his like he so desperately craves.

We all know by now that SJM is a fated mates writer and is someone is mated to another, she takes the time to craft the couple's personalities to fit with each other without being the same. Lucien is one of her favorite characters- for him not to end up with his mate that she has spent years talking about them as a couple together and how they will heal is shortsighted on a lot of the anti-elucien stans.

This is the beauty of Gwynriel. Az saved gwyn, but did not form a romantic attachment to her. Then, unlike with any other female, he trains her in a group and privately. Az respects Gwyn as a person first, not as an unattainable love. He trusts her to get herself out of situations (look at the blood rite) and pushes her to do more. His shadows, which are a physical manifestation of his inner darkness and his soul, dance and play and are intrigued by Gwyn in a way they have never been with anyone else. Gwyn and Az will be the ACOTAR friends to lovers couple. They will build a foundation of friendship that blurs into being in love with each other. For Az to truly get over his trauma, he and gwyn need to choose each other for who they are without a bond, and then a bond can snap later. He needs to have someone love him without any strings attached.

(Feysand is enemies to lovers, Nessian is grumpy x sunshine, Gwynriel is friends to loves, Elucien is reluctant soulmates and second chance romance, and Emorie is chosen soulmates).

In the bonus chapter, SJM clearly puts the nail in the coffin for E/riel with her use of negative prose and Rhys (who in her mind can do no wrong) warning Azriel off of Elain. Then SJM shows us the interaction with gwyn and has positive prose and connotations noted in their interactions, that he feels at peace and something settles within him. She basically just threw in a million different phrases that she used previously for mated couples to tell us "LOOK HERE. LOOK AT THIS." And then she said in an interview that it would be obvious who the next book was about? I am sold its an Azriel book. I don't think elain has hit her rock bottom yet. In ACOMAF, Feyre hits her rock bottom, in ACOSF, Nesta is at hers, in HOF Celeana is at hers, and at the end of ACOSF Azriel is at his. If she set up the next book to truly be Elain's then she would have added elain into ACOSF and made her a more prominent character. Instead, the next two who have the most page time other than Nesta and Cassian are Azriel and Gwyn. Which mirrors what she did for Nessian in ACOWAR. Every pattern says that the next book is the gwynriel book.

Sorry that this kinda turned into a rant lol

[playboysaleen]

The Plague of Hope. (Avatrice x Reader) Part 2.

Summary: After the release of the angel Adriel, what happens when the Halo's Bearer is given a little help from the man above?

Story takes place during Season 2.

WARNINGS- Blood, fighting, you know the deal anything WN got; this got.

<3- Somewhat a slow burner but it will be worth it. the reader is GN but is giving masc vibes. if you not feeling that go ahead and imagine what you like!

chapter 1.

Word Count: 3.2k

______________

“The world is at stake, maybe once we save it we can focus on being friends.” you spoke quietly hopping off the rail placing the guitar on its stand taking one last look at the two girls. “I’d hate to make you my friends and then have to lose you in the process of this chaos.” smiling sadly hoping the two would understand, you made your way back inside sitting at the table where Rowin is placing a few plates down. 

“He is on his way and I am going to warn you now, he is not happy with you.” your eyes widened at the last six words as you stood up opening your mouth when the door flew open. A man walked in grabbing a fist full of your hair dragging you out the balcony where the girls were. Struggling against his hold, he tossed you over the balcony onto the open yet fenced field. Landing on your side, Rowin stood next to the women sighing lightly. “Come girls, we’ll take the safer way.” The hooded man hopped down from the balcony making his way towards you. 

“How many fucking times do i tell you-” a foot was sent into your stomach sucking the air out from your lungs as you tried your best to shield yourself from the amount of kicks he was sending your way. “Not to follow the damn arrows until they’re what Y/n?” you couldn't answer due to the blood that pooled your mouth. His hand grabbed your hair once more, lifting you onto your feet. At this point, Rowin and the girls were watching the interaction between you both, Ava took a step forward only to have the older man place his arm out in front of her. 

“This is something you do not want to get in between.” Beatrice placed her hand on Ava’s shoulder shaking her head. 

“Speak, you child!” he spat in your face, tears filling your eyes once you met his own. A light flashed between you two when he tossed you a few yards away from him. 

“Rule 4, do not show weakness.” He spoke getting into a fighting stance. You stood up spitting out the blood that dripped down your lips. Once you got into your fighting stance he sent you a smile that sent chills down your spine. “Please, not in front of them.” you whispered. You knew he could hear but that didn’t stop him from speaking-

“What? You don’t want the warrior and our sister to know how you were treated like trash? A mutt for the streets. How your parents placed you on your grandmother's doorstep cause they couldn’t even look at you.” 

“Shut your mouth.” you spat venom coating those three words but he continued. 

“How you loved a girl who died to keep your pathetic little secret.” Ava grunted softly trying to control this new feeling from the Halo. her fingers wrapped around Beatrice's arm. The sister turned to see Avas back glowing.

“What's wrong?” Bea whispered, Ava shrugged her shoulders keeping her eyes glued to the two in front of her. 

“Stop.” taking out the scroll from your pocket, the girls focused their gaze on the familiar paper in your hand when Rowin took a few steps back. “I think we need to take a few more steps back for what is about to happen.”

“No. You go and get yourself exposed to the OCS and now look at you…” he paused looking back at the three. 

“It’s practice.” Rowin spoke softly to the girls who were confused on why this specific tactic is being used on you. 

“You got the warrior nun involved. You're supposed to be prepared to rip Adriel to shreds but here you are trying to control your little feelings for the Warrior nun.” you grunted looking down at the secret that was now out. Ava furrowed her eyebrows as her Halos hue brightened; it was like she could feel your emotions. She could feel…you. 

“Gabriel gave his love to a freak. To a weak child. another death being placed in your hands because you are not ready. The warrior nun will die and you will see her protector be ripped to shreds because of you. You. Are. Weak.” 

“I said shut your mouth.” you whispered, kneeling , placing one hand against the ground. 

“Or what?” 

The crown now visible on your head illuminated and the scroll now disappeared from your hand. You slowly lifted your head meeting the man's eyes. You rushed towards him at the speed of light sending a fist into his chest. He flew into the wall causing a few chips from the impact to fall on him. You turned to the three making your way to them when a gust of wind sent you to the ground. The man straddled you yet with a buck of your hips you send him over flipping onto your feet, 

“You’re holding back.” he mumbled standing, you shook your head trying to control the unknown feeling in your chest. As you were distracted on the pull from the crown the hooded man grabbed a weapon from his back pocket sending three shots into your chest. Falling onto your back, he made his way towards the three. 

“If i-” the man started grabbing Ava’s shoulder placing her on her knees, placing a blue lit knife to her neck. “Slit her throat, you will have no choice but to kill yourself. She is your last chance at being able to be free but if you hold back, you will lose her just as you lost Destiny.” Once you heard a small whimper fall from Ava’s lips everything happened in a matter of seconds. You rushed towards the man grabbing him by the neck digging him into the ground beneath you. Your eyes lit brighter than they have ever been and with a clench of your fist, the scroll appeared yet lit into the sword that resembled the one in Rowins forge. The weapon shined brighter once it was brought closer to the man's neck. 

“Put your hands on them again and I will kill you.” the hooded man smiled as you let go. He stood up yet only to receive another punch to his jaw. A snap echoed through the field, his body fell limp as you turned, walking to the trio. 

“He’ll live.” you spoke moving past them grabbing the spear from the wall that held multiple combat weapons. Ava gasped at the hooded man when he stood up dusting the dirt off his jacket. You hummed, sending a tight lipped smile towards a shocked Beatrice, Rowin laughed softly at the play. Tossing up the spear, you caught it then sending the weapon full force at the man. Ava placed her hands over her mouth when the spear struck into his chest shoving him against the wall. A dramatic sigh left your mouth when the gold hue faded from your body. Patting Rowin on his shoulder he huffed pushing the girls to the struggling man. 

“Best training I've seen out of you.” Rowin spoke which you shook your head in return, finally making it to the man who was coughing up blood. Finally setting his eyes on you he laughed loudly.

“I might have to use that girl as leverage if you’re going to be fighting like that.” You rolled your eyes yanking the spear out his chest. Beatrice, still shocked at the situation, glanced between the hooded man and you. 

“Don’t tell me there is another child beside you?” you shook your head snorting, Ava grabbed your shoulder which did in fact send a bolt of electricity to the crown that sat unseen on your head. A faint hue lit from her back which led her to move her hand away. Ava cleared her throat taking a step next to Beatrice. 

“Who are you?” the man took off his hood extending his hand. 

“My name is Cain. The child's protector. Finally, after thousands of years I have a job I actually enjoy.” Both pairs of eyes widen when you pinched the bridge of your nose. 

“To sum everything up; yes, he is the Cain from the bible. Yes, he killed his brother. Yes, he was punished by god. Yes, he is immortal. And yes, he is an asshole. Now, can we go inside?” Cain sent a sarcastic smile lightly pushing me towards the entrance. 

“Awe did your anger tire you out?” Cain joked as everyone followed you out the field into the safe house. 

“No, your shit did.” a grunt slipped your mouth from the profanity. Walking into the safe house, you made a beeline to your cot grabbing the box hidden underneath. Rowin lent his hand towards the table sitting in his seat. Cain followed your movements to the kitchen letting out a very loud laugh. Grabbing the curtain that hid between the kitchen and bookshelf you swung it across for privacy, your silhouette still peaking through Rowin gently tapped Cain’s hip as a warning. 

“Leave them.” Cain groaned wrapping his arm around the man's shoulder placing a kiss against his head. 

“Well at least we get some comforting music with this wonderful dinner my love has made.” Cain jokes. Beatrice scanned around the room to find the source of music but could not find any. Sending a look towards the shorter girl, Ava shrugged digging into the food. After a few seconds of utensils scrapping the plates, quiet chewing and the faucet running, Ava's eyes wandered back up to your back when she noticed the glow around your body. 

Your shaking hands grabbed a packet of white powder sprinkling a few into a small bowl. Placing the item under the running water the substance turned a light blue color which caused a faint gag to slip out your mouth. Placing the bowl onto the side of the sink, you grabbed the blue rock that sat in the box away from all the ingredients. Silently cursing, you dropped the rock into the bowl. A hissing noise killed the silence in the room, Cain smiled widely at the sound and Rowin sighed softly grabbing a small pillow that sat next to Beatrice's leg. 

“Oh I love this song.” Cain sang, Ava looked between the three at the table confused on what song was playing. You swallowed the lump in your throat grabbing the bowl bringing it up to your lips. Taking in a sharp breath, you opened your mouth downing the substance in the bowl. Opening the curtain, Rowin tossed you the pillow which you extended your arm to catch it but your body went limp causing you to crash into the ground. 

“Aweh,” Rowin hummed, “They were able to catch it last time.” Beatrice's eyes widen moving from her seat to you. Her hands went under your head, your eyes remained wide and the color from your skin drained drastically. 

“What is happening?” Ava projected, the halo began to glow when the blue ignited in your veins. You let out a loud wail when the substance met with your wounds from the interaction earlier with your mentor, Cain smiled swaying his hand to your cries. 

“Music to my ears.” Rowin placed his hand in Cain's, bringing it down to his lap. Shaking his head, Cain grumbled, stopping his playful banter. Ava snapped out her frozen state sprinting to your side,

“Hey! Look at me, you’re okay!” Ava spoke, panic clearly seeping from her lips. The wounds on your skin began to heal, sweat began to coat your body as you slowly exhaled through your nose. Finally blinking back into reality, Beatrice placed a hand against your cheek and you flinched at the physical touch. Rowin cleared his throat standing from his seat handing a water bottle to Beatrice. She grabbed the bottle, opened the lid, and placed the rim against your lip. Still in a mild shock, you looked between the bottle and Beatrice trying to navigate through the horrid voices that screamed in your head. You crawled away from the pair planting your face on the hardwood floor. Ava glanced at the two men who continued to eat their dinner ignoring you, anger bubbled in her stomach which caused the Halo to glow. 

“What the literal fuck? You're just going to sit there and watch them die?” Ava growled, sending her fist into the table. “You're both cowards.” 

Beatrice kept her eyes glued to your fatigue state trying her best to read your movements, till it clicked. She inched her way towards you, placing a hand on your knee. “It’s okay, you're safe.” Shaking your head the voices grew louder but faded in and out when her hand was placed against your cheek. 

“I am right here, no one is going to hurt you.” her voice was calm…the calm you desperately searched for your whole life. Calm; the same as the voice that sang you to sleep when you were a child. The calm that pulled you back from the horrible nights where you felt as if the world swallowed you whole and spat you out. Her hand slipped into yours and like that…it was silent. The voices were gone in an instant, eyes snapping to the girl you saw this warm aura seeping from her skin. She tried once again placing the rim of the water bottle to your lips, 

“Drink, please.” you parted your lips letting the cold substance enter your mouth, gripping her hand you opened wider chugging the whole bottle. Rowins eyes widen completely ignoring Ava’s profanity nudging Cain to look at the new interaction. 

“Awe, the kid finally found their source.”Cain sang, you sat up looking around the room, locking eyes with Ava, the halo began to glow when the crown on your head became visible. 

“You could hear them…” you whispered, Ava nodded her head taking a seat next to you. “How do you do it?” the warrior shaking her head looking down, “Being paralyzed almost your whole life this is a walk in the park for me.” your eyes moved away from her own, as your hands went to the zipper of the sweater you wore unzipping to reveal the bloodied white tee. Lifting your shirt, the girls kept their eyes peeled on your stomach that was covered in foregin tattoos. The open wounds were now closed and left as scars, Ava extended her hand placing a finger against the sealed wounds. 

“Why don’t you fully heal?” she asked, glancing at Beatrice every couple seconds. “When I heal, they're gone. Why don’t yours?” 

“Not everyone gets the same gifts… These are reminders that I, in fact, am human.” 

“And they have yet to unlock their gifts.” Ava snapped her head to Cain who leaned back with his arm around Rowin. 

“What?” Beatrice was the one to ask, you scoffed standing to your feet making walking away, Cain snorted grabbing the salt in front of him pouring it onto the table. Ava threw the man a look which he shrugged. “I've been punished by god, bad luck can't compete with that.” the girls sat back at the table tearing their attention away from you. You went back out to the balcony trying your best to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall. 

“When you became the Halo bearer you were gifted with enhanced abilities. Since angel Gabriel was one of the closest to the man himself he did have enhanced abilities just…a bit more than any other angel.” Rowin spoke as Cain ran his hand over the salt to draw foregin symbols. Beatrice leaned over the table mumbling gibberish to herself. 

“Nature's elements.” she spoke out pointing at the symbols naming each of them. “Earth, wind, fire and water.” Ava chewed her fingernails glancing every now and then at the balcony, Bea mindlessly placed a hand on the shorter girl's arm stopping her from fidgeting. 

“So they have supernatural abilities?” Ava spoke, Rowin nodded-

“Yes, but the kid still has yet to discover them. If they do not unlock them by the time we come face to face with Adriel, not only will he kill them-” Cain leaned back finishing the latin writing- “Adriel will possess their power, making him unstoppable.” Beatrice spoke, Cain nodded, waving his hand causing the writing and salt to disappear. 

“Have they discovered anything yet?” Ava asked, Rowin nodded his head glancing at the balcony. Ava grunted feeling the Halo go in and out. She felt…greif, disappointment, and anger. You vaulted over the balcony landing swiftly on the field you to the center slowly dropping to your knees…finally, the tears flowed down your cheeks. 

“Well…” Cain started when a cold breeze made its way through the balcony into the safe house. Ava wrapped her arms around herself trying to brush off the chills that not only ran along her skin but down her spine. A shift in the atmosphere took a wide turn when the door flashed with lightning. 

“From what we see, the only time we get small reactions would be through an overload of emotions like right now.” a crash of thunder shook the roof, Beatrice stood up making her way to the balcony eyes trying to spot you. You held yourself embracing the cold that you brought upon yourself. Gaining control of your tears, the rain stopped. You looked around noticing the rain came to a halt. Huh, five minutes. A new record. Standing to your feet, you made your way to the stairs next to the balcony. You looked between the small space separating the balcony and staircase, shaking your head as you walked up the stairs to the door that enters the kitchen. Opening the door all the talking stopped, Cain smiled brightly as everyone else averted their eyes to the table in front of them. 

“Welcome back sunshine! How was the therapy session?” you grumbled at his sarcasm walking to your cot grabbing a fresh white shirt from your stack of folded clothes. 

“Tsk, tough crowd. Eyes over here honey.” Cain spoke to Ava who had her eyes glued to your shoulders as you removed your wet shirt. She sent a tight lipped smile to Beatrice who shot her a look. Rowin sighed lightly looking at the clock that hung on the wall, 

“We can’t stay here anymore.” you spoke, interrupting Rowins fatherly orders. Cain tapped his fingers against the table standing up. Rowin sent the girls a small smile,

“Well ladies, training will be postponed till we reach our next safe house. The girls watched the sight before them. Rowin grabs a stack of old books, dumping them into a duffle bag. Cain grabbed a pouch of white powder sprinkling a trail around the place and you…you placed your clothes in a backpack along with some kind of book. You grabbed a locket that hung on the wall above your bed placing it on, you stood up straight closing your eyes, after a few moments you released a shaky breath locking eyes with Cain. 

“They're coming.” Once the words came out of your mouth, Rowin jogged into the room grabbing the shotgun that hid behind the plant. 

“Then let's get the hell out of here.” Cain sang, pushing the girls to follow Rowin, you placed on your backpack heading towards the door. 

________

Bare with me, I got so many stories im writing. But you will get them all soon. Thank you for reading!

[ksfoxwald]

Fire and Hemlock Readalong: Part 3 Chapter 2

In which Polly finds Tom again.

This chapter contains the most overt depiction of magic in the entire book, which almost overshadows Polly's magic. She finds Tom by "following a tugging in her head," leading her to the Dumas Quartet rehearsing for a last-minute show. "Knowing things is Polly's heroic gift," Tom says. Later on, too, she's the one who sees through Mr. Leroy's trick with the trash monster.

I have to wonder what Tom told the quartet about Polly. Like, I would be seriously side-eyeing any friend of mine that told me they had a twelve year old RP partner who they met at a funeral. I feel like Ann would have some words to say about that. Also, we later learn that she has some connections to the Perry Leroys as well, though it's not clear if Tom knows; Ann might even know enough to suspect what Tom is using Polly for, even if she doesn't know the how.

Ann alias Tan Audel is the most interesting member of the quartet to me. Her gift, as Polly says, is that she never forgets, and indeed she is the one who writes the story in the new timeline that triggers Polly's memories, even though one of the others wrote the original. But she's also interesting as pretty much the only positive adult female representation in the book (to be fair, adult men are all pretty shady here as well; but there aren't any women in Nowhere except for Hero and Edna until Tan Audel is revealed). And Ann isn't described as heroic or pretty or with anything grand; she is described as having a "frank friendliness," eyes "direct and amused," with a "square, quiet face." She's not the sort of woman who shows up in hero tales but is very much the sort of woman you want in everyday life.

And when Polly asks ("hopefully") if Tom might marry Ann, Tom responds with a laugh and a "Ann has her own ideas about such things."

The "hopefully" is interesting, because Polly's reaction to Mary Fields has strongly resembled jealousy, but perhaps it hasn't quite turned into romantic jealousy yet. Her hopefulness seems to indicate that Tom is a sort of family member to her, and she's hoping he might marry Ann the way a child might hope for a nice stepmother. Ann's "own ideas" seem decidedly queer, though.

The scene with the quartet is so gentle and soft and cozy, one of the happiest moments in the entire book. The way the quartet all immediately take care of Polly and make sure her well-being is a priority is something we haven't seen from anyone except Granny, and even Granny's love has a gruff edge to it. And this is such an important scene because it sets the standard for how people, particularly children, should be treated, and that the way Polly's parents treat her really is horrible. It's hard when you're inside a situation sometimes to see how bad it is when it just feels normal.

In fact, Polly specifically does not read her book here, because she doesn't need the escape. (We also get the call back about not putting books facedown - it's from Tom of course, and it was strong enough to make it into her second set of memories.)

Tom takes Polly to the station (and so much of this book takes place at or going to or coming from train stations, or on roads. The liminal spaces between No Where and Now Here) but the wind that has been threatening for the past two chapters rears its head - literally - becoming a monster made of wind and garbage. The Leroy magic, of course, uses what is already there. But just as Tom tries to run it over with the car, Polly realizes it is actually Sam - or Tan Hanivar, as she shouts, because they are very much in Nowhere at that moment.

This, as Tom notes, is almost exactly what happens in one of the stories he wrote. "What is it about us?" Tom asks. "We make things up, and they go and happen."

Mr. Leroy uses them, Polly wanted to say. But there was more to it than that. She thought of Mr. Piper's shop in Stow-on-the-Water, which seemed to have nothing to do with Mr. Leroy. "I don't know," she said wearily.

Tom is starting to understand his curse, though he hasn't fully accepted it yet. It's interesting because between Tom and Polly, they have a complete picture of what is going on - Tom has the adult knowledge of history and context with the Leroys, while Polly has a child's insight and intuition about magic. But they aren't able to put the pieces together yet.

[grapecaseschoices]

As many as you like of the following: Band name, Training, Performance, Tattoo, and Development, please? One for each of your Infamous MCs? I could not decide who to send which to ahhhhhh but I’m ready to eat >:)

LMAO. I read this wrong and I did all of this for Ori. And was prepared to do all of this for all of them but it got long.

So, just have Ori for now. I guess later I'll answer this as you had originally requested wertrew <3 sorry!!

Band name: How did they and the others come up with the band name? Has the name changed since it was founded?

Seven figured the best way to lure Ori into a band and past their insecurities is to make it gym related. Like finding an abandoned cat under a dumpster. Pspspsp.

Half joking. A theme was noticed lol in all of Ori's suggestions. And they were cool with rolling with it. He was very excited when they did. Their original name was 'Leg Days'.

Training: How did they learn to sing? Have they had any formal training? How do they continue to maintain and develop their singing voice?

Ori's parents are trash. And he spent a lot of time growing up with his grandparents. They both can sing very well. His grandmother did choir well into college but his grandfather is completely untrained (or as far as Ori knows). His nana taught him some stuff. And when she died, a way of bonding with his gruff grandfather was aimlessly practicing those stuff while they worked on projects.

I'm sure Orion has sent Ori more formal videos, and Ori sometimes watches them to please Orion. But he's not that into them. His nana's ways are tried and true.

Performance: What are they thinking and feeling while they’re performing? How do they act on stage?

What are they thinking? 'Don't throw up. Don't throw up. Don't throw up.' I guess it could be said that Ori still has a flavor of stage fright. But he loves sharing the moment with his friends -- so he focuses on that.

He burns off the nerves by being a clown. Not literally. He's definitely jumping up and down, engaging his fellow bandmates, feeding off the crowd and doing his best to return the appreciation that they give out. Though, he WOULD like to be a clown on stage for real (one day. ONE DAY! He's gonna juggle. And not even Orion will stop him. Well, maybe.)

Tattoo: Did they keep the tattoo with Seven’s initials? Why/why not? What was that decision/execution process like? (Bonus: What do they think of Seven keeping their tattoo?)

It was quite simple. Ori is quite simple. There was no deep decisioning or weighing. Seven is his best friend and she will always be his best friend. He will always love her, that's it. (That's a touch more complicated -- they're not sure. They're hopeful, but given their luck in life and how Seven has been acting, maybe Seven forgot to take it off [ha, Seven?] Or wants to hurt them.)

Development: Ori is an oc I created for an RP that I was in but I didn't get to play (if you wanna creep his app and og pinboard <3). I was a kick, and sorta still am, to play a character type/personality I haven't before/in a while. Gymbro who is "simple"/straightforward and is treated as a failure/sees himself as one yet who is still unrelentingly kind cropped up. I was also really inspired by the AJR song 100 Bad Days, that I had been playing on loop back then.

Since I've never played Ori before, he's still a work in project. One thing I'm looking forward in developing is how honest yet stalwart he is. He's a mess but he's a lot more steady than he gives himself credit -- or maybe responsible is the better word. It really cropped up in that moment he gestured for Gigi (HIS HERO!!!) to face forward while annoucements were being. It will be interesting to see that grow and be pushed against when faced with characters like Gigi, Blake, and Seven's Rage (which, yes is it's own character)

Lala

Bethany Josnel

Alana