#considering their age difference i wonder if they even felt like family at a certain point....

[brofightiscancelled]

fighting yowai....

[frankenkyle19]

Glitter On The Floor After The Party

description/warnings: Peter x reader at a New Year’s Eve party, Peter admits that he’s never had a New Year’s kiss and against better judgement, reader decides to give him one. Smut, unprotected sex, oral (male and fem receiving), teasing, just a bunch of tenderness and it’s so cute okay thanks bye

Based off of the amazing request I got from our lord and savior @silverzoomies I hope you enjoy it and I hope it lives up to your expectations!!

word count: 4.6k

Loving you,

Isn’t the right thing to do

How Can I

Ever change things that I feel?

If I could

Baby, I’d give you my world

The soft background music of Fleetwood Mac’s “Go Your Own Way” played amongst the chatter and laughs of conversation across the room. You stood leaning against the wall, sipping on a solo cup of lemonade as you did one of your favorite things. People watching. 

You didn’t like to be in the middle of a conversation, but listening to it from the outside was something you did enjoy. You didn’t try to snoop, if someone was having a conversation they obviously intended to keep hush hush, you moved on to listen to a louder, carefree conversation instead. 

What day was it again? Why were you at a party? Oh right, it was New Year’s eve and Charles had decided to host a party at the school for the mutants and others who resided there. As a way to celebrate the progress that had been made in the last year and to hope for a good year to come. 

You never really felt like you fit in with the other mutants. Sure you had a power, and if that’s what people thought deemed you a mutant, then yes, you were one. You wouldn’t even consider it a power, it was more of a curse. A turn off to just about all men who found out about it one way or the other, despite it not affecting them in any way. They just saw you as different and decided you weren’t worth the time of day. Too much work. Whatever. 

Speaking of time, that had everything to do with your power. You were able to slow down time, practically freeze something in the moment.Unlike a certain silver speedster who was able to move  at the speed of light, you were only able to freeze a moment for a certain amount of time, and it took a lot of focus. It was a dumb power, you always thought so, and you weren’t sure it would ever even be useful to the x-men, despite protests from Charles that everyone is important in their own way. Sounded like a load of bull shit.

Figures that one of your only friends was the silver haired speedster himself. Your powers were similar but yet so different, and sometimes it led to arguments between the two of you. You always managed to get over it though.

Peter Maximoff was one of the first friends you’d made when you joined. Around your age, a cocky super speedy mutant definitely caught your eye.

The two of you had been friends for a few months now and had gotten closer quicker than you imagined. Peter and you staying up late to have secret movie marathons, with him always insisting you rewatch Star Wars despite your strong dislike for rewatching movies when you could watch new ones. You did it anyway, being with Peter suddenly made those movies bearable, as if he possessed some other kind of power than his super speed. The power to make any situation a little more bearable. 

You hadn’t seen Peter yet tonight, strangely, and wondered if maybe he wouldn’t be attending. He had no reason not to but as you wracked your brain for an answer, you couldn’t come up with one. Odd. Maybe he was with his family? His mother and little sister? Perhaps he enjoyed spending time with them more. Psssh of course he did, that was his family that he loved, so why suddenly did you feel so jealous. 

Finishing the last of your lemonade you made your way back over to the drinks table to pour yourself something stronger. Maybe a little rum and coke would solve all your problems. Hell, maybe you’d even be able to chill out enough to find someone to hook up with. Lord knows you needed it. You’d been unusually uptight lately and the only thing you could think of was the fact that you hadn’t been laid in a milenia. 

It wasn’t like you to do the dirty with some person who you didn’t even know, but if the night led up to that, you’d have no qualms as long as said person knew where the clit was and how to make you feel good. Was that too much to ask for? 

You were knocked out of your thoughts when a harsh breeze whipped by you, followed by the slight color of silver.

Peter… So he was here. 

A few seconds later and your cup was snatched from your hands and in the hands of someone else who sipped from it. When he put the cup down you saw his familiar deep brown eyes and silver hair. You would be annoyed at the fact that he’d stolen your drink if it wasn’t for the fact that you were actually quite happy he’d finally showed up. 

For being a speedster, he sure was late to a lot of things. Odd, wasn’t it?

“Miss me?” He asked, snatching a cookie from the table and biting into it, a few crumbs cascading down onto his Pink Floyd shirt. He obviously didn’t care as he took another bite and the same thing happened. His silver eyebrows were raised, waiting on an answer from you.

What had he asked again? Oh right, if you missed him…

“I thought you weren’t coming,” You said, avoiding his question. Had you missed him? You weren’t really sure the answer to his question.  It was something you’d have to ponder on for a while.

“Where else would I be on New Year’s Eve?” He asked, finishing off his cookie and scanning the table no doubt for what he’d eat next.

“I don’t know, maybe your mom’s place?” You shrugged. To be honest you didn’t know, you were just guessing. 

“Nope, her and my lil’ sis are at a friend's house celebrating I think. I wasn’t invited. No one wants a freak at their new years party, right?” He chuckled, but you knew inside he didn’t find it very funny.

“Maybe they didn’t want you stealing anything-” You teased, trying to lighten the mood, and it seemed to work. Peter laughed once more, real this time as he shook his head.

“Yeah that’s probably it, never thought of that. Yer a genious” He said, and you noticed another cookie in his hand, already half eaten. 

You took this chance to get a good look at the man in front of you. The silver haired mutant of which you harbored a very secret obsession. How could you not? Anyone who didn’t was either lying or blind. He was perfect in so many ways. From the way his silver hair sometimes fell into his face, to the way his brown eyes sparkled whenever he saw you. 

As much as you’d love for something to happen between the two of you, the risk was just too high. You couldn’t in good intention do anything and risk your friendship with the speedster. It was too risky.

Still, sometimes the way he looked at you had you wondering how he felt. Where his feelings lay. Was there something more or were you reading too far into it all? Probably the latter…

You glanced at the clock ticking on the wall. Thirty minutes till midnight. Thirty minutes till the new year. It felt so close but seemed to be an eternity away. You wondered what this new year would bring you. What you’d accomplish within the x-men. Maybe you’d find a more useful way to use your powers. One could only hope. 

While you were zoned out on the clock Peter had stuffed multiple things into his mouth and now when you turned back to him you saw the corners of his lips were covered in white cream. Jesus…

You raised a brow, shaking your head as you brought your thumb up to wipe the corners of his mouth before wiping said thumb on the sleeve of his silver jacket, much to his dismay.

Peter let out a quiet chuckle and the rest of the world seemed to fade into the background. It felt as if the rest of the world had slowed around the two of you but you knew for certain you weren’t using your powers right now. It was just the effect Peter had on you. Damn it was strong. 

Peter met your eyes before looking away and if you weren’t so distracted by the way his hair fell in perfect waves over his forehead, you’d have seen the way his cheeks darkened and the way he shoved his hands into his jean pockets, clearing his throat.

The odd wave of feeling faded between the two of you and it went back to normal. You chatted and laughed over drinks until the both of you were tipsy, you much more so than Peter considering his metabolism, and by then it was only two minutes until midnight.

The rest of the party had party poppers and noise makers in their hands, read for the clock to turn to 12:00, but you and Peter were still talking to each other, too caught up in conversation to get with the flow of things.

“You know, I’ve never had a New Year's kiss.” Peter blurted out, setting his solo cup down to look at you. His expression was soft and you could see the way his body was burning through the alcohol he’d drank as if it was nothing.

What an odd thing to tell your friend two minutes before midnight. I mean, he wasn’t insinuating anything, surely? He was known to over share many things, including the women he’d had sex with, which keep in mind had not been many these days, and the pornos he’d rented that week. That’s just the kind of dude he was. Absolutely no shame in his game.

You let out a surprised chuckle. Quicksilver had never had a New Year’s kiss? Such an odd thing for him to have not experienced.

“That’s a shame.” Was all you said, setting down your own cup, the drink in it now long gone and deep in your system. 

Peter seemed surprised by your response, as if he was expecting you to reassure him and tell him you hadn’t had a New Year’s kiss either, but that hadn’t been the case.

He opened his mouth to speak once more when people began to cheer around you. 11:59. 60 seconds…

Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he chuckled, wishing he hadn’t just told you about his lack of New Year’s Eve smooching. 

30 seconds. The pull to Peter was so much stronger now, as if the universe was pushing you together like opposite sides of a magnet. 

25 seconds.

Why did you feel this way? Jesus Christ what was wrong with you? Surely you wouldn’t…

15….

The faint sound of Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here could be heard and you were surprised that Peter hadn’t pointed it out yet, considering he was at the moment wearing a Pink Floyd shirt..

How I wish,

How I wish you were here 

We’re just two lost souls 

Swimming in a fishbowl 

Year after year…

10…

No you couldn’t

9…

Get it together!

8…

He’s just your friend! Nothing more!

7… 

But god the way he looked at you..

6…

No, Don’t give in. Don’t ruin what you already have 

5…

Fuck. Screw it. Screw it all.

With a heavy breath you grabbed Peter by the front of his jacket and pulled him down into a kiss. He hadn’t expected it and to be fair neither had you. Time did seem to slow around the two of you now as you felt a surge of electricity crackle through the air between you as Peter finally knocked himself out of his dazed confusion and kissed you back.

4…

His lips were so soft

3..

You could find yourself getting used to this.

2..

He pulled you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist as you wrapped your own around his neck

1..

A deep breath, never breaking the kiss and there it was.. Peter’s New Year’s kiss. Finally, he had what he wanted, and so did you. 

Once it hit midnight the two of you didn’t break away. You pulled at each other, urging the other to come closer. You wanted to crawl into each other's skin, get as close as possible. You didn’t care who saw, who judged. The only thing that mattered in that moment between you two was the other. 

You felt Peter’s Hardness against your inner thigh as you leaned against him, coaxing a moan from his puffy lips as he glanced down at you, swallowing hard. That was all the warning you got before he sped the two of you off, time slowing back down once you were both safely in his room at the school. It was just as oddly decorated as his basement-room at his moms house. Obscure posters and gaming machines like Pinball and pac-man. 

Peter attacked your neck with his lips, urging you towards his unmade bed before pushing you down onto it. Rushed  and messily he tore off his jacket and shirt, tossing it to the floor. He paused, glancing down at you beneath him.

“I- is this okay?” He asked, his hands creeping up under your shirt and tickling your rib cage with his long, slender fingers.

“More than okay,” you laughed out. Yea, it was way more than okay. What wasn’t okay was the fact that he stopped. That just wouldn’t do.

You glanced down at the ever growing bulge in the front of his too-tight jeans before your hand cupped him gently, causing him to jut into the feeling.

“Shit- really? We’re really doing this?” He asked, grinding his lower half into your hand for more friction.

You used your free hand to pull him down into another kiss full of teeth and tongue, gently massaging his length through his clothing, causing small whimpers and whines to fall from his parted lips, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“Fuck yeah we’re really doing this, here- just-“ you urged him off of you until the two of you had switched positions, Peter laying against the bed, you leaning over him.

“Please-“ He mewled, looking up at you with his desperate dark brown eyes, begging for the slightest touch. 

Hearing him beg was music to your ears and as much as you wanted to get him to beg more, you were also impatient and wanted to tear his clothes from his body. You’d waited too long for this, you were not going to waste a second. 

You palmed him over his clothing one more before undoing the zipper and button on his jeans, trying to get them down his legs.

“Peter- a little help?” You asked, brow raised as you glanced at him.

Peter, who had previously been in his own little world refocused on you, jumping at the sound of his name coming from your lips. It took him a moment to register what you were asking from him and then, the clumsy idiot he was, in a desperate attempt to kick off his pants, he ended up kicking you off the bed. 

Landing with a thump you gasped, not expecting it and not being able to do anything to prevent it. You peeked up over the edge of the bed to find a mortified Peter who was frozen in place with his pants halfway off his legs as he looked at you.

“Shit- are you okay? I’m so sorry oh my god-“ He helped you back on the bed and despite your giggles and light reassurance he felt bad. 

“Let me make it up to you?” His tone dropped at this and you knew he had an idea. A devilish idea. He picked you up like you were nothing and laid you back on the bed, settling between your legs as he carefully hiked up your shirt until it had revealed your bra, and inside of said bra, your bomb ass titties.

Peter would never lie, and your boobs were absolutely smoking. He was a tits expert after all, from watching hours of pornos, he’d still never seen one’s as pretty as yours, and he had an idea that it was probably because they were yours, and he was now beginning to realize his true feelings for you were much more than just ‘friends’

He practically ripped off your pants, tossing them onto the ground next to his own clothes before his hands traced your thighs.

Your panties were soaked and you were sure there was a wet spot on them that Peter would soon see. It was embarrassing how fast he had gotten you so worked up.

And just like you expected, Peter’s eyes locked onto your clothed cunt, nearly drooling as his thumb brushed over the wet spot in your panties.

The touch felt electric and so, so damn good which was ridiculous because he’d barely touched you at all.

He gently rubbed his thumb across your clothed clit, loving the way that you reacted to his touch.

“Poor thing, need quickie to make you feel good?” He chuckled devilishly and you so badly wanted to kick him. Now was not the time to tease.

“Peter! Please!” You huffed, wriggling around underneath him as he slowly and teasingly pulled your panties down your legs, throwing them over his shoulder. He parted your thighs further to give him better access to your core.

His pupils seemed to dilate as he zoned in on your throbbing cunt and with a shaky breath he leaned forward, parting your folds with his tongue.

Your hands found their way to his hair as you tugged gently on the silver strands, urging him closer.

Peter got the hint and buried his face further into your pussy, moaning at your taste and wetness. All for him. 

It had always been all for him.

His pink tongue jabbed at your clit several times before his lips gently wrapped around the nub, sucking gently, but enough that you could feel it. Hell could you feel it.

Your head fell back into the pillows, unable to keep it up anymore as your legs quivered around Peter’s head. The sight was heavenly. A head of silver hair lapping at your cunt, dark brown eyes glancing up at you as he flicked his tongue inside of you before pulling out to give attention to your clit.

You were surprised by how well he actually ate you out. Most men you’d been with were messy and not in a good way, totally missing any points of pleasure down there, but Peter. God was he good at it. 

He continued his actions, speeding up every now and then until your whines became more desperate and your hips bucked up against his face. Somehow, without ever being together intimately, Peter just knew your tell tale signs that you were close. Maybe the porn had paid off.

“Peter!” You squealed as he pulled away for what felt like the fifteenth time. Your body was shaking with pleasure and a layer of sweat covered your skin, making you glisten. 

“What baby girl? What’s wrong? Doesn’t it feel so nice?” He asked, pressing kisses to your inner thigh as he teased you, his palms rubbing over your knees as he peeked up at you through his eyelashes.

You totally wanted to kick him right now. He was being such an ass.

“Peter! Please- fuck I was so close! This isn’t fucking funny anymore!” You groaned, urging his head back down to your pussy and finally he followed your lead.

He let you guide him back to your core and he began to lap away at it once more, closing his eyes as he moaned against you. His tongue moved inhumanly fast and it was quite literally the best thing you’d ever felt. Better than any store bought vibrator that was available. 

“Fuck! Oh s-shit Peter- feels so good please don’t stop- please please don’t stop this time baby please-“ you begged, holding him by his hair, tugging hard on it as he groaned, open mouthed against you. 

With a few more flicks of his tongue and sucks against you, you were cumming, your release coating Peter’s lips and chin as he did his best to clean you up, moaning against you.

Eventually you had to pull him away because he was so lost in your taste. Carefully you pulled him up by his silver locks, seeing the fucked out, happy expression on his face. 

“So fucking good-“ he wiped his mouth on his arm before sitting up a bit, coming to himself as he finally got enough oxygen.  

Catching your breath, you pulled your shirt and bra fully off, finally being fully naked before you pulled Peter into another kiss, getting on top of him.

He looked up at you with the softest brown puppy dog eyes he could muster, chest heaving as he let a quiet whine slip past his lips.

“Definitely getting much more than a New Year's kiss.” You laughed, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down while keeping eye contact with him the whole time.

“Fuckkk- please touch me- I’m literally throbbing baby you’ve got no idea how much I need you-“

“I think I have some idea,” you gently wrapped your hand around his red leaky cock once his boxers were off, and the sound that Peter made was something straight out of a porno.

“Shhh, Peter you’re really loud-“ you shook your head as you thumbed over the tip of him, watching as your thumb spread the opaque fluid across his pretty pink head.

“Really really want a new years kiss somewhere else-“ Peter panted, despite how desperate he was he was still cracking jokes. Of course. You wanted to slap the smirk off his face, but you had a better idea. 

Rolling your eyes, you leaned down, face to face with his throbbing dick as you pressed a soft feather light kiss to the tip, watching the way Peter’s breath hitched the second you did.

You had him wrapped around your finger, and it was everything you ever wanted and more. Finally, after all this time. You had him. He was yours.

“Oh f-fuck I’m gonna cum- I’m gonna cum-“

“Peter I’ve barely touched you-“ your brows furrowed at his admission, honestly surprised. You had gotten him that worked up from barely touching him? To be fair he had done quite the same thing to you previously.

“Don’t- wanna cum yet- wanna fuck you please?” He asked, batting his eyes in a much too innocent way for how sinful the situation was.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to fuck you. As much as you wanted to explore his body, there would be time for that later. You too had all the time in the world now.

He pulled you down with him onto the bed as he tried to manhandle you down onto your back and before you knew it he was over top of you, leaning in between your legs, nudging your core with the tip of his cock.

“Can I?” He asked, looking up at you, his hair a disheveled mess of silver on top of his head.

“No condom?” You asked, brushing your thumb across his cheek as he shyly nodded, not meeting your eye, his next words surprising you.

“I-if that’s okay- I saw you were on birth control I was snooping around your room the other da-“

“Wait, pause right there, you were snooping around my room? Peter!” You shoved at his shoulder, an annoyed look settled on your face “what’s wrong with you? Creep!”

Peter put his hands up in surrender as he blushed hard, becoming shy now at his confession.

“I’m sorry, I was just curious! You know me! I'm a snoop!”

“Peter I cannot believe you right now but- dammit, yes. Yes just fuck me already please or im going to explode.”

Peter chuckled, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he slowly slipped inside of you, your slick mixed with his saliva from Peter’s previous actions with his tongue making him glide inside easily. 

The both of you gasped in unison at the feeling of being so close together in such an intimate setting. It was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. There was almost no pain, despite how deeply he was stretching you out. It was like the two of you were meant for each other.

You clutched onto Peters shoulders as he gave a few experimental thrusts into you, shaky breaths mingling together in the air between your bodies. 

Peter breathed out your name through a moan and you were sure it was the most magical sound you had ever heard and would ever hear.

“Fuck- to be fair I had no idea this was how the night was going to turn out-“ Peter cursed, sweat forming on his brow, not from exhaustion but from pleasure and the restraint it took to hold himself back from fucking you so hard the bed broke.

You laughed lightly, moaning as he hit a spot even deeper inside of you before pulling back out and repeating his actions.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Perfect way to start the New Year in my opinion.” You grinned before your smile was replaced with a gasp as Peter began to speed up his thrusts.

You didn’t fail to miss the way that his body vibrated with each thrust, fucking into you with purpose as he planted kisses and love bites all across your neck and shoulders before sucking one of your breasts into his mouth.

He hummed around the hardened bud before letting go of it with a pop.

“I just gotta say baby- these titties- you’ve been hiding them from me for tooooo long. They are bangin!” You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his choice of words.

“F-fuck-“ he cursed again, his thrusts becoming erratic as he fucked into you with a kind of desperation you’d never seen from him before.

You didn’t even need him to tell you, you just nodded in understanding, biting your bottom lip between your teeth.

The two of you were close and your bodies were racing to the finish, chasing your euphoric highs.

“I-I-I’m-“ he choked out, unable to form the words.

“Shh, shh I know Peter, I know, me too.” You reassured him. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking him in place and making him go farther inside of you, surely bruising your cervix.

Peter froze against you, humping against you twice more before stilling, filling you up with his warm seed.

The feeling finally threw you over the edge, your body seizing against his, arching up against him before collapsing limply back against the sheets.

The two of you caught your breath before Peter pulled out and laid next to you, tracing your stomach with his finger.

“Holy shit- that- Jesus that was- wow-“ Peter couldn’t find the words as he stared at you in disbelief.

You didn’t really have the words either so you just looked up at him and said,

“Happy New Year’s Peter.”

And he simply responded with

“Happy New Years.”

Maybe this new year wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

[httpiastri]

PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER ONE (BAHRAIN)

genre: fluff, angst, etc.

warnings: hmmm nothing i think

word count: 5.3k

author's note: aaaa first chapter !! i don't rlly like it but still !!!! a very much opener/get-to-know-the-characters/intro chapter, so maybe boring at times idk. still so excited, thanks to everyone who's contributed. love u all <333

author's note pt2: when i write about the different drivers and their living situations, i know it's not all accurate to how they actually live irl. ik i wrote modena instead of maranello here for ollie although idk exactly when he moved, but there are mentions of milton keynes for the rbj drivers bcs it made it easier for me. anyways, just go with whatever i say about how they live lol. also !!!! i changed yn's team from mp to campos hehe. okay now let's start :)

series masterlist

the winter break coming to an end is always a bittersweet feeling.

having a lot of free time to catch up with friends and family is always greatly appreciated, but at the same time, it doesn't take many days before you miss racing after the last race of the season. especially when the season is as short as the f3 season is, and especially when you don't partake in any of the winter-season races.

this year, though, coming back to the paddock doesn't feel as complicated as it most often does. your heart is light and your smile is big as you enter through the gates after the long taxi ride from your hotel, and you already can't wait to get started.

as you make your way toward the campos truck, you greet a few people you meet here and there, but it's the sight of a head full of dark, curly hair that makes you stop in your tracks. "jak!"

the american turns around when he hears your voice, grin taking over his face already. you strut all the way over to him, practically throwing yourself into his arms. "hey there," he chuckles, giving you a big hug.

"oh, i've missed you so much!" you exclaim, giving him one last squeeze before pulling away. "it feels like i haven't seen you in ages."

"right? the break was way too long."

juan pokes his head through the door to the truck when he hears your voices, making some kind of comment about all of these loud teenagers always causing a commotion, before coming down to greet you with a hug as well. "how was your break?" he asks.

"wonderful, really. i spent most of it at home, catching up with family and friends. then me and ollie-" your eyes widen at your own words. you clear your throat, looking away from both of the boys for a second. "well, i went to italy."

your relationship with ollie isn't exactly a secret around the paddock, but it's a bit of an unspoken rule not to mention it too much. both because you all want to separate your personal lives from your racing ones – you don't wish to crash into a close friend like jak any more than you'd like to crash into ollie, after all – and because a certain other driver might be around to hear.

someone who's quite the conflict of interest in this specific topic.

your break truly was wonderful. it felt like the only things on your schedule were skiing in the italian mountains, gym-and sim-training, and just relaxing at home in england to recharge for the next season. you had spent a lot of it with ollie, getting to know both him and his family better. it hadn't taken you long before you were best friends with his little sister, sharing little inside jokes and spending time cheering her on at the stable. and you'd even grown surprisingly close with ollie's younger brother, and you loved seeing the three siblings interact.

they all made you feel truly at home with them, like an extended family. you couldn't have asked for anything more.

ollie was well-known in your family even before the break, especially considering how he was one of the first drivers your father picked out for the academy. and during the break, he only further impressed them; he always helped out with household tasks, he did his best to create connections to every relative of yours that he met, and he even bought the sweetest little christmas presents for your parents and grandparents. however, just the mention of italy in your current conversation is enough to make the dams drivers understand. no other detail is necessary.

when you're done talking about your break, it's juan's turn, and then jak's. during the catchup, more and more people drop by to say hello, and it doesn't take long before there's a full-on gathering outside the dams truck. dennis, another one of your former academy members, and pepe, your new teammate and newly found platonic soulmate, both listen in as jak tells you all about how jetlagged he is after coming back from the states just two days ago. "have you gotten properly settled in with aston?" you ask with a smile.

"totally. it's been great, honestly. even the apartment they found for me is top-notch."

"oh? better than milton keynes?"

jak raises his eyebrows at you, and then he bursts out laughing. "duh." throughout the many years of living next-door from each other, there wasn't a single day when the two of you didn't complain about something the apartment complex. the smell, the noise, the trails of blood in the staircase; not exactly things you'll miss when you move out one day.

"i still can't really believe we're not neighbors anymore," you complain, jutting out your bottom lip as you speak. "i've been so close to knocking on your old door so many times, but now some other freak lives there-"

"hey!" pepe shoves your shoulder, and the whole group laughs. "you're much worse than i am!"

"i'm so glad i finally moved out of there," dennis chimes in. "if i had been neighbors with y/n and pepe at the same time… i don't think i would've gotten any sleep at all, man."

"i didn't get any sleep for four years when i lived there..." jak groans.

"is this your first time in a series together?" juan jumps in, looking between you and jak, but seems surprised when you both nod. "best friends but you've never raced each other? maybe this season is what forces you apart."

"yeah, what will you do if i crash into you when you're in the lead?" jak teases, pressing an elbow into your side.

"then i think a few compromising pictures of you might make their way to the aston martin headquarters..."

when it's like this, being on the same grid with all of these people is so easy. you're all friends, not opponents. all in the same boat with the same excitement and expectations for the season. unfortunately, you know it won't stay this uncomplicated for long. when you're actually out on track in a few weeks, forcing each other into the walls and swearing at each other over the team radios, there won't be any more happy faces.

but for now, you enjoy smiling with the people who are just as much your friends as they are your enemies. that is, until you spot someone else joining your little group.

paul.

suddenly, the smile feels much more forced; the air is thicker and harder to breathe in. and when he makes his way over to you, a lump forms in your throat.

a lump you understand probably won't disappear all season.

the second you're back in your hotel room, you reach for the little dark blue book you've hidden in your bedside drawer. the pen in your hand is one you've had for years, one you always bring with you to every race weekend. the ink has been refilled possibly hundreds of times, but the plastic body has remained the same ever since you bought it.

the journal itself is torn; it's been used and loved for many years, too. it's like an extra best friend, a second home. when you're writing in it, it's one of the few times you feel like you can actually be your true, authentic self – it's one of the few times when you're not afraid that someone will judge your emotions or thoughts.

today, you know what you want to write about instantly.

i saw paul for the first time since abu dhabi.

i haven't been able to stop thinking about him. no matter how hard, i couldn't get him out of my mind. i've been wondering what he looks like now, how his voice has changed, if his smile is still as bright. and suddenly, he was there and i saw him.

the answer? he's just as he always was. and i can't tell if that makes me feel alright or awful.

you're pulled out of your head by the sound of a knock on your door, and you instantly scramble to hide your journal in the drawer again. the second you pull the door open and ollie's gaze meets yours, it's like all of your previous thoughts disappear. it's just you and him again; no one else even exists.

especially not paul.

"are you ready to go?" ollie asks, hands finding your sides as he leans in to press a quick kiss to your cheek. "i found the address of some good pasta place, it's just a few blocks from here."

you nod, your hands landing on top of his and giving them a quick squeeze before pulling away. "i just need to put on some earrings," you start, backing into the room. "will you help me choose?"

"of course."

"carlos set a stunning lap today. did you see it?"

the question makes you roll your eyes, letting out a sigh as you bring out three plates from the cupboard above the stove. your dad has always been quick to comment on anything good regarding ferrari; to anyone living in the max verstappen era, even a sliver of a good result is enough to spark some hope, so you aren't exactly surprised. "yes, dad. of course i saw it."

"i reckon this will be our year," your dad continues as you walk past him cooking by the stove, carrying the plates to the dinner table. "carlos will make them regret getting lewis instead of him."

you can't help the chuckle that leaves your mouth. your mom gives you a knowing glare over her newspaper – don't start anything. you choose to ignore it. "you really think this is how it's going to look next week during the actual race?" you ask. "you don't think max is sandbagging the slightest?"

"i'm just telling you," your dad starts, giving his stew a good stir. the snarky tone in his voice is unmistakable. "don't come home crying to me when you realize red bull isn't going to cut it anymore. if you regret your choices, go somewhere else."

even like this, when you're back home for a few days to catch up with your family, neither of you can stay away from this bickering. your dad is always pestering you about sticking with the red bull junior team, and you never can back down from a fight. you're way too stubborn.

"are you saying that i wouldn't have a place in ferrari if i wanted to?" you set the plates down with a thud, the sound making your mother flinch in her seat by the table. "you would say no to your only daughter, huh?"

"i'm just saying that you'd need to prove yourself to get into the academy."

despite your harsh tones, most people around you think you're just joking around when you act like this; some family-mockery can never hurt, right? however, there's always a hint of seriousness behind it. it's been like this between the two of you forever, and especially ever since your dad became the head of the ferrari driver academy – the rivalry between you two is stronger than ever.

you've always been sure of your choice; you've always felt like the red bull family is perfect for you. but recently, you've started to wonder if staying with the team actually was the right thing for you. what really is your future in the team? it's not like you haven't got great drivers ahead of you, drivers who will be called in for a possible f1 seat before you.

and it's not like red bull has a stellar record of keeping all of their drivers. they only have four seats in formula one, after all.

your dad wants you in ferrari, that much is clear. you may have joined the red bull junior team because of his past with the team; he did win their first ever championship, after all. accepting was the only option when you got the offer to join. however... your dad really wants you in ferrari. there's just something about the brand, the colors and the history that obviously is intriguing for everyone. even lewis hamilton couldn't stay away, for god's sake.

you can't admit it, though. not here, not right now.

so instead, you choose to fight fire with fire. "bullshit," you mumble under your breath before speaking clearly again. "second in the championship last year wasn't proof enough?"

"stop this," your mom says, folding up her newspaper and placing it on the table. you roll your eyes yet again but look back at her when she speaks again. "new subject: how is our dear ollie doing?"

you visibly relax at the question, your heart softening in your chest. "he's good. he's back in modena now, so..."

if it had been your dad asking about ollie, you know it would've been because he's interested in how the academy is doing. but since your mom is the one asking, you know it's real concern and curiosity. "how did he find the new car? did he enjoy testing?"

"not really," you say, slipping into the seat opposite your mum as your dad places the pot of stew in front of you on the table. "though, you know, the prema cars are never that good in bahrain. but he assumes they'll bounce back."

there's something in your dad's tone when he speaks again that makes you stop in the middle of your reach for the ladle. "yeah, so i've heard..." it's almost sarcastic, maybe a bit... irritated?

you turn towards him, a frown on your face. "what?"

"william," your mom says with a shake of her head. she knows something. "let's not go there." but just as you're about to call them out on how strange they're acting, she speaks again: "what do your upcoming weeks look like? for how long will you be back in england?"

anyone with eyes – or even without, to be fair – can tell that they're hiding something. and while your curiosity is killing you, you're not in the mood for a full-fledged fight at this time. you take the high road, which isn't your most familiar way of handling things like this, and try your best to push away any wishes to question your parents. you answer, engage in polite conversations and chat about your upcoming season. then, you thank them for dinner and leave the house after giving them their respective kisses on their cheeks.

but all evening, your mind is on something else. and when you get back home to your apartment, your fingers itch to send ollie a text asking if he knows anything. but instead, you go to bed with a knot in your stomach. maybe it's a topic for another day.

being back in the car for testing was great, but it was nothing compared to being back on the track for an actual race weekend. the first round of the championship was something you'd looked forward to for what felt like years, and now it was finally time. you've never been more excited, or nervous, for any race weekend.

you weren't off to the best of starts, though. qualifying has always been one of your stronger suits, so coming 13th was not a result you had anticipated. thankfully, it meant you had time to practice overtaking and had a good chance of improving your place. having to start right behind pepe and paul in both races was an interesting coincidence, but you were obviously not going to let any of it affect your racing.

though p8 is not the best place to finish, you are actually quite pleased with having gained several positions in the sprint race and taking your first point of the year. the car was, as you knew it would be, very different from the f3 car, although you were surprisingly confident and managed it well despite the circumstances.

paul, too, handled it all very well – p12 to p5 is a great record. and when he sees the timing board and realizes that you also did well considering the circumstances, he's overjoyed. he's practically bouncing down the paddock when he finally gets out of his car, accepting the fans' cheers and the handshakes from his engineers with a big grin. and when he sees you further down the paddock, his mind is filled with memories of the two of you celebrating your good placements in all other categories.

just because you aren't a couple now doesn't mean you can't honor these results together, right?

but just a second later, he realizes that you're surrounded by the familiar red-clad staff members instead of your own campos staff, and you're standing right by that red prema car he knows so well. and, sure enough, soon the person he'd forgotten about steps up to you.

paul watches as you wrap your arms around ollie's shoulders, and his heart sinks in his chest. your boyfriend hides his face in your shoulder and your hand comes up to stroke the skin on the back of his neck. paul can tell how your lips are moving, and the pout you're showing off tells him enough about what's going on even though he can't actually hear what you're saying. you aren't prioritizing being happy about your own race – it's more important to comfort ollie.

to paul, there's something so unsettling about the sight. he's seen the two of you together many times before – besides, he gets tagged in pretty much every picture a fan takes of you with your boyfriend – but it isn't your proximity that he has issues with.

the thing that upsets him is the fact that there's a frown stretched across your features; one that doesn't leave even when you part from ollie, or when you're cheered on by your mechanics, or when you leave for your post-race interviews. a frown that any other time would be replaced with a big, proud smile because of your accomplishments.

the music blasting into your ears from your airpods cuts out the rest of the world, the usually so busy and loud paddock all gone the second you pressed the play button on your phone. it's been your favorite way of getting in the race mood for years; you're not superstitious in many other ways, but your playlist has stayed the same since your first season in f4. walking around the garage, doing your warmups, or even just sitting around and waiting to get in the car like you are right now, you listen to the exact same songs on repeat. it's one of the few things that makes you truly focus on the race ahead of you.

so when you feel two hands on your shoulders from behind, you jump in your seat. turning your head, you're relieved to see the big smile of pepe shining down at you. "did i scare you?" he asks loudly enough to cut through the music, and you barely have time to nod and take one airpod out before he speaks again. "good, that was my intention."

you slide your airpods into their case as pepe plops into the seat next to you, eyes zoning in on the f3 feature race on the screen in front of you. "i'm so upset," you huff, shaking your head. "did you see the start?"

"i heard," he answers just as dino's red car appears on the screen, and he crosses his arms over his chest. "but he's made up ten places already, right?"

"yeah..." you lean your head onto his shoulder with a sigh. "we should focus on the positives. like chris!"

"and like our upcoming race." you can practically hear his grin when he speaks. "i have a good feeling about it."

when you found out that jak was leaving the red bull junior academy last fall, you were heartbroken. he's been one of your closest friends ever since you first met; the two of you have always been joined by the hip, despite how you've never raced in the same series before, and you spent most of your free time either training together or just hanging out. how would you ever get over him leaving you all alone in the academy?

thankfully, pepe joined in the late summer. at first, you were just acquaintances, but something about his personality was too good not to fall for. it didn't take long for him to become one of your closest friends, too. another boy your age, another boy with crazy energy and amazing potential – he filled the void in your heart quite well.

as well as jak's old apartment.

you'd raced each other in f3 last season, though barely ever crossed paths or talked. but living next to each other, doing all of your sim work together, and now even being on the same team meant that your relationship went from zero to one hundred in just days.

this season is your first with campos, while he's been with the team for several years already, and so far he's been very good at helping you get used to everything off track. they took a big chance choosing two rookies for their lineup, and the two of you promised each other to do your best to make them satisfied with their choice. so far, you've gotten one third and eight place in your first-ever f2 race – and you're just getting started.

"i do, too," you hum. "let's go out there and show them today."

paul is beaming when you see him stroll back to the paddock after his media duties. his cap is perched on top of his head – the right cap, finally – and his fingers are still tightly wrapped around the neck of his champagne bottle. when he notices you leaning against the doorframe leading into the f2 hospitality, his smile grows even bigger.

you meet him halfway, arms wrapping around his shoulders easily, just like they have so many times before. one of his arms drapes around your waist and he holds you close, a hum vibrating from his chest. finally, he thinks to himself; this definitely makes up for all of the things he felt yesterday.

"congrats, paul," you tell him. "that was amazing. you were amazing."

"thank you," he says before pausing. then, he lets out a chuckle. "to be honest, i wasn't sure if you would care."

you frown at him when you pull slightly away from him, just enough to look into his eyes. is that what he really thought? that you wouldn't care about his driving? "oh, please. you still mean a lot to me, okay?" your hand moves down to his upper arm, giving it a soft squeeze. "i still consider you to be one of my closest friends."

friends. the word stings like a knife in his heart. it's been months since you broke up, and yet, it still feels like a raw wound.

paul forces a smile. he understands that despite how painful it is, there's something good in it. there's still a place for him in your heart, even if he's forced to share it with someone else.

he pulls you in again, and the hug is even tighter now than before. it's a comforting feeling; you're both at peace, with a good weekend behind you, in the arms of someone so close to you. after everything you've gone through together, but especially everything he has gone through these last few months with the mercedes academy and prema, you're finally through to the other side. "it all worked out in the end, huh?" you ask after a few moments of silence.

"i guess it did." you part from each other to leave that oh-so-familiar gap between you yet again. "will you be celebrating with us tonight? i think pepe had something planned. you know how he is."

you snort. "yeah, i do know. maybe i will." you shift uncomfortably, crossing your arms over your chest as your eyes dart to the ground. "but, um... i'll have to check with..."

you don't even say his name – you don't have to. ollie's entire weekend has been so far from everyone's expectations, and if you know him correctly, he will not be in the mood for celebrations tonight.

paul nods slowly, pressing his lips into a thin line. "right."

the silence that follows is so awkward you can't help but chew on your bottom lip, a tiny sigh escaping through your mouth. he must be hating this, you think – today is supposed to be only a good day for him, he shouldn't have his ex's new relationship pushed up in his face.

"well, i have a debrief to get to," you make up, flashing him a quick smile. "congrats again, paul."

"thank you." he gives you another nod, before turning away and making his way towards the paddock. "pepe will text you!"

and just like that, he's off, and your mind wanders to the thought of actually going out to celebrate. ollie will definitely not join you, though you're not sure why you don't want to go without him. is it because you'd rather stay and comfort him?

or is it because you're scared of what you'll do, or feel, when you're alone with paul for the first time since you broke up?

"p5 is still good, my dear." your mom's voice booms out from the speakers of your phone as you drop it onto the desk, and you can't help but let out a sigh, taking a step back.

"of course, but... i feel like i could've done more." it was both true and not; with paul's five-second penalty, you definitely could've gained at least one more position if only you had stayed within that gap. but then again, a fifth position and ten more points was a great result for a rookie.

"but you'll still be going out to celebrate with your friends, right?"

you ended up telling pepe you weren't in the mood to party, despite his persistent complaints, and decided to instead use the evening for relaxation and recovery. your entire body, especially your neck, has really suffered this weekend – you were already sore after the shakedown, but this is on another level – so a bubble bath and a good night's sleep in your hotel room seemed like a much better choice.

"no, i'm just going to rest a little..." you hum, flopping down on the chair by the desk. "maybe grab something to eat with ollie."

weirdly enough, you haven't been able to get in contact with him all evening. you were told that he hurried back to his hotel room right after the race, not in the mood to talk to anyone on the team at all, so you chose to give him some time alone to cool down before you'll eventually go over there. still, you thought he would've answered at least one of your many texts by now.

thinking about your boyfriend, you suddenly remember something. "hey, mum?" she lets out an affirmative sound. "you remember when i was home last time, and dad said something about ollie and the car? and he acted all weird?" you pause for a moment, but when she doesn't say anything, you keep going. "what was that all about?"

"well darling, we..." you take the sudden silence as a sign that she might not be sure how honest she wants to be right now, and it makes you frown instinctively. she sighs. "we're just a little worried about him, that's all."

your confusion only grows. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"we're worried he's feeling too pressured to impress us." you hear her take a deep breath. "of course, your father is his boss, so it is natural in that way. but we wish he would just see us as any regular parents. he's always talking about racing like there's nothing else in the world, and..."

"that's not fair." you shake your head despite the fact that she can't see it. "that isn't him. he isn't all racing and no fun."

"oh love, i'm sure he is loads of fun, but-"

"i really have to go," you cut her off, standing from your seat. "talk to you later."

you hang up before she can even answer, the guilt in your head from treating your mother like that already pushed away by the anger growing inside of you.

you always assumed your parents loved ollie. sure, you knew they adored having paul over when you were still a couple, too, but ollie is every mother-in-law's dream son. he's from your country, he's a pure sweetheart, he's even in the fda for god's sake. how could they not love him?

and so what if he tries to impress them? who wouldn't do the same?

when ollie opens his door for you, he looks like he's just woken up from a bad night's sleep. bed head, bags under his eyes, and just a general aura of tiredness. if you didn't know better, you'd think he was an insomniac. but thinking back to how badly his race went, the sight of him just makes your stomach churn.

your arms wrap around his neck in an instant, pulling him into your warm embrace. you feel the tension in his upper back release right away, and ollie's hands find your sides, giving you a light squeeze. you refrain the urge to pull away when he nuzzles his nose into your neck, standing strong against your usual ticklishness, and your heart softens slightly when he lets out a deep sigh into your skin.

"you okay?" you finally manage to get out, and his answer comes in the form of a nod against your shoulder. "is there anything i can do for you?"

he pulls away but stays so close that you feel his breath against your face; so close that you're both slightly cross-eyed when your gazes meet. "stay with me?"

your answer is expressed through the fleeting kiss you press to his lips, your way of saying of course. ollie doesn't waste any time pulling you into his hotel room, and you flop down onto the bed with him. he sits up and watches you lie down against the covers, your head nestling into the pillow. "tell me about your race," he says as he reaches down to take your hand, his fingers slipping in between yours. "eight positions gained, huh?"

of course he doesn't want to talk about his own race. but the fact that he's willing to think about racing at all, just to let you have a chance to talk about how well you did and boast a little; it all makes your heart flutter.

and you're sure, you're so sure that he is so much more than just a racing driver. he's not what your parents think he is. he's an incredible racer, sure, but he's also the sweetest man you've ever met. the perfect boyfriend.

even when he's feeling like this, he takes his time to still pay attention to you and ask questions. and then he listens, he really listens, because he wants to understand every inch of your mind just as well as he geeks out about every detail of apexes and tyre degradation. and then he says just the right things, the things to sweep you off your feet yet again.

he's so perfect that he's incredibly easy to love.

so why is there a knot in your stomach at the thought of the race – and more specifically, the person on the last step of the podium?

why does your mind keep running back to how he's celebrating, and what it would be like if you'd been there with him?

yourusername just posted!

yourusername double pookie podiums & good points in the bag! thanks camposracing for a great car ❤️ we go again in a week!

show all 81 comments

user top job this weekend!!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user i will stop hating on red bull if either of these get into f1

→ user red bull juniors >>> anyone else

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user what happened to ollie though 😭

→ user it's just the first round, calm your horses

→ user why always bring up ollie on her posts... is that all she is, ollie's gf? 😐

→ user forreeaaalll

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

redbulljuniorteam y/n and pepe making us proud 🥺

→ user pls admin you're making me cry

→ yourusername me too 😭

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

You might’ve already received an ask like this, but I think it’s interesting how similar Malleus and what we see of Maleanor(I think that’s how you spell her name) are. I mean they are mother and son they’re obviously going to be similar, but specifically I find it interesting that they have almost the exact same arrogance.

When reacting to the threat of the Silver Owls and S.T.Y.X’s forces respectively, both the previous princess and the current prince treat it like more of an annoyance than a real threat. The thought that they could genuinely lose doesn’t even seem to cross their mind, I mean in all fairness Maleanor does acknowledge the idea that she might lose but I doubt she really feels scared in the moment.

There isn’t much to this ask, I just think it’s interesting and might be some foreshadowing on how Malleus’ arrogance is going to lead to his downfall.

This isn’t exactly the same thing, but this ask also compares and contrasts Malleus with his mother under the scope of “maturity”.

Arrogance is a natural consequence of anyone having power, especially for a family as powerful as the Draconias. It often doesn’t occur to those at the top that they could fall from grace. In other cases, it’s ignorance as the result of never wanting and thus having a limited understanding of the world beyond their small insulated one. (This is the case for Kalim.)

I think the circumstances you described aren’t exactly equivalent so it’s somewhat limited to directly compare mother and son. Malleus already knows what Styx is (thanks to Lilia) and suspects they aren’t after him (because why would they be at this point in the story??). This is confirmed in one of Malleus’s dialogue lines: “No wonder they didn’t come after me.” Maleanor, meanwhile, is facing a significant foreign threat and knows she has a target on her back, since she leads the military forces. She also has a lot more riding on her shoulders if she fails, considering she has both her country and her newborn son to think about.

But I think your general point is still valid; Malleus and Maleanor are arrogant because their immense power affords them this luxury. It’s a vulnerability they share as mother and son, but I also think that they differ due to their ages and the eras in which they grew up.

Maleanor had to be strong and resilient because she lived in a period of time when mages (and fae in particular) seemed to still be feared. Malleus has a lot less life experience but he also lives in an era of relative peace. He does not need to be as alert as his mother was, and has yet to face any real national-level threat. Thus, Malleus is more arrogant because he has yet to be challenged to the same degree his mother was.

I would say that Maleanor is still arrogant (she clearly still feels comfortable making demands of Lilia and throwing fits when she doesn’t get her way), that much is true. However, she also has lived long enough to gain far more wisdom and experience than Malleus has. When you’re a child, you feel as though nothing can touch you. When you’re an adult (as Maleanor is), you’re aware of many more factors which could topple you.

We can’t be certain how she really felt about the Silver Owls storming her country, but I get the sense that Maleanor realized she was in danger and only put on a brave face because she’s such an important public figure. That’s where her arrogance comes in; she can’t afford to let that slip. If she shows weakness, it doesn’t exactly reassure her people, who are already very stressed. She has already seen many of her soldiers fall on top of her husband (someone whom she loves deeply) going missing. These are prominent reminders to her that fae, no matter how powerful or influential they are, can be ended. Maleanor also speaks in a manner which implies she is fully willing to make that ultimate sacrifice; she hands her child to Lilia and instructs him to guard her son in her stead, then casts a spell which prevents Lilia from running to her side to fight with her. It makes me feel like she knows she’s essentially marching to her death. She didn’t want to get her dear friend and son caught up in that, so she sent them on their way while she stayed behind.

So in a way, Malleus and Maleanor’s arrogance is paralleled rather than being the exact same. The inexperienced son is still riding the high of being untouchable, while the mother, knowing that her time had come, wasn’t willing to go down without a fight. Slightly different circumstances, as I’ve said—but it’s still interesting to see how the traits of the parent persist in their child, and how that may indicate how Malleus develops moving forward.

[lemonluvgirl]

The Miner's Wife by MockingJayFlyingFree (Review)

Hello Hunger Games fanfic readers, this week I am reviewing the wonderful and compelling tale of The Miner's Wife written by MockingJayFlyingFree. (Trigger warnings for  Drug abuse, alcohol abuse, forced prostitution, non-con, and mention of abortion.)

I picked this story first to review because it's at the top of Everlark Fic Questions Top Ten Fics by Statistics and because I've read it before so I figured reviewing it would be easier since I was familiar with the story. So with that reasoning explained let's get down to the review.

The story is set in Single Victor AU where Prim was never reaped but Peeta Mellark was. Peeta went on to win the 74th Hunger Games by himself and Katniss stayed in the Seam and married Gale at age 18. She had two children with him before a mine accident killed Gale and left her financially ruined and starving. In a last-ditch effort to feed her children, she turns to prostitution and finds some unlikely help in the form of the two District 12 victors.

One thing I really liked about this story was the setting felt a lot like the original trilogy. There's a certain grimness and desperation that makes it feel very authentic but the stakes are more adult in nature. There is also some extra world-building. We get to see the before-unseen shady dealings of the Capitol Elite who were not as prominent as in the original trilogy, as well as more of the Vicors/Mentors (from the Quarter Quell) who were previously one-dimensional characters in the original trilogy. By changing the timeline when the story takes place, 12 years after the 74th Hunger Games we get a different view of some very familiar characters, and different perspectives on some characters who were never fleshed out in Suzanne's Catching Fire.

Like the original books, the story starts in District 12 which is a microcosm of what is happening to Panem at large.

Peeta Mellark is back home after weeks of mandatory attendance at festivities in the Capitol. The district is dirty and grey, the people struggling even more than usual. There has been another large mine accident and many families have been affected. Including one familiar protagonist.

Katniss is all grown up with a family. She is once again thrust into the role of sole provider and head of her household. Except this time going beyond the fence to hunt won't save her family in time. She is forced to make the hard decision between her family's survival, staying true to her own values, and holding onto her dignity. Once again she chooses to do whatever is necessary to ensure her loved ones can live another day, which echoes back to the part of Katniss' character we saw in the original trilogy on the night before the start of the Hunger Games where Katniss said she couldn't afford to think about the moral quandies of killing other children because she had her sister to consider. The meaning implied is that Katniss' mindset going into the Games was doing whatever it took to win to get back home to her family because they were counting on her.

On the other side of the equation, we have Peeta Mellark. The story actually starts with his point of view and right off the bat we see that this story's version of Peeta Mellark is more in line with the hijacked version we became familiar with in the Mockingjay novel. Peeta is worn out and barely hanging on. It's been over a decade since he won his games. He's been mentoring children and watching them die for years and he's been sold as a prostitute in the Capitol for almost as long. The story delves into his depression and his alcoholism, as well as his dependence on drugs. It also touches on his past suicide attempts and his suicidal ideation. Yet through all of that, his desire to protect the people that are important to him is still there.

We see from the get-go that even though Katniss never had to go into the arena and Peeta made it out alive, they are still fighting a battle for survival mentally and physically every day. They have both been exploited in different ways and are dealing with the lingering effects of trauma. Katniss with the trauma and grief of losing both her father and the father of her children to the same mine that has killed so many Seam people, and Peeta with having to endure the horrors of being a young and desirable victor sought after by the Capitol elite, as well as mentoring a new crop of tributes every year.

The human tragedies playing out in District 12 set the stage for Katniss and Peeta's paths to cross again merge in new ways and evolve from what we saw in Collins' books. The struggles they face may be slightly different from their teenage counterparts in the original trilogy but one thing I think MockingJayFlyingFree does well is stay true to the inner core of these characters. Katniss is still a consummate survivor who in the right circumstances with the right people is won over by compassion and empathy. While Peeta goes through a horrible ordeal of having his humanity stripped away and becoming a ghost of himself, he is brought back by those who understand his pain, and his mission of trying to save the girl he threw bread to when he was eleven.

Their struggle to stay true to themselves, and find freedom and peace under an oppressive totalitarian regime is very inspiring and at moments heartbreaking. While this story does not have a clear-cut happily ever after it does end on a hopeful note and readers walk away with a very authentic and thought-provoking experience.

I enjoyed reading this story immensely and I can completely see why it's on the list of top ten Huger Games fanfiction stories. I highly recommend this fic to readers who enjoy the grittiness and high stakes of the Hunger Games.

[sirianasims]

Chapter 22

A Million Dreams

The university found out, of course. They gave me my diploma, but I wasn’t allowed to attend the graduation ceremony, and I was told to move off campus immediately. I had nowhere to go but home.

My father, always the responsible one, was angry and disappointed.

No surprise there.

My mother seemed more worried about the age difference. She said that we were at very different stages in life. Katherine being 38 had never bothered me before, but maybe my mother was right. I was only 23, so it was a pretty big gap.

“We’ve given you everything, Eric. Always. Everything you wanted – and you almost threw away your entire future because you were thinking with the wrong head! I thought we raised you better than this.”

“I know, dad. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. And we… I thought we were being careful.”

I hid my face in my hands.

“Just… not careful enough, I guess.”

My father, of course, was thinking like a lawyer. He insisted that I should also get a paternity test.

That hit me hard. I hadn’t even considered the fact that I might not be the father either.

“Seriously, Eric, for all you know, the father could be any student on campus.”

“That’s out of line, dad! Yes, we were stupid, but Katherine is not… she’s not like that.”

My father looked at me, stone-faced.

“How certain are you, son?”

I understood what he meant. The amount of cheating and lying he’d seen as a divorce lawyer for over three decades was staggering.

“I… I guess I can’t be sure.”

Finally, my mother spoke up.

“Zane, honey, you’re being too hard on him. And her. We all make mistakes, remember? And this family wouldn’t even exist if my life – or yours – had turned out the way we originally planned.”

My father briefly glanced at the pictures behind us. I remembered hearing he’d once been engaged to someone else.

“No amount of arguing can change what happened. What we need to do is find out how we can best help our son.”

She put her hand on mine.

“And our possible grandchild.”

I let out a sob, and my mother pulled me to her, hugging me tightly.

As my mother held me, I wished I could go back to being the carefree teenager who had his life all figured out.

Was it really only a few years ago?

My room had been left untouched while I was away. It was almost like travelling back in time – almost. I could hear my parents’ voices downstairs. It reminded me of the night the Sixams came for my brother.

I wondered what Daniel would be doing now if he hadn’t gone with them. We never heard from him anymore.

My perfect brother definitely wouldn’t be going around knocking up married women, that’s for sure. But I had plenty of problems without worrying about him. How could I be so stupid? I had no idea what to do.

I used to have my entire future planned out. I had a million dreams. Some people have a 5 year plan, I had a 25 year plan. Now I felt lost and uncertain.

My father came in and sat on my bed. I quickly wiped away my tears.

He apologised for being so hard on me. He told me that he had discussed things with my mother, and they had decided to do their best to make some of my dreams come true despite everything.

Daniel was unlikely to ever return, so I was their only heir. My parents were going to cash in some of their assets and help me and Katherine get set up. He called it an early inheritance.

The numbers he mentioned were intimidating. I always knew we were pretty well off, but I had no idea how much money my parents had accumulated in investments and savings over the years.

I accepted. It wasn't like I had any other options.

beginning / previous / next

[maegorsbignaturals]

whos your ideal pairing with maegor?

OMG MY FIRST ASK THANKS!!

WEll, tbh i don't have an "ideal pairing" with Maegor. I like every relationship of his in a certain level bcs they are all so fucked up in different ways

Ceryse and Maegor it is a relationship that i haven't seen have an in deep analysis, but it sure is the root of his pyschosexual trauma with sex and having heirs. Considering that when they were married, he was 13 and she was in her early twenties. Still a child even for Westerosis standars. He took high pride into "conceveing a child" that night with his New wife (once again, an adult woman that doubled him in age) and failing... That surely had to affected him in a way that would Mark him for the rest of his life. He was a child who began his sexual life so early... Also, i cannot stop wondering what Ceryse might have felt in all that situation.

Alys and Maegor are so UGGGHHH. I think that they DID have a honeymoon phase. Maybe, for the Harroways, it was like a pure moment of luck when Maegor visited Harrnehall, and Lord Harroway (Srry baby Alys, i forgot your father's name) took the perfect chance and sneaked his daughter into Maegor's bed. And even convincing her that, of course she wanted to be part of the Targaryen family and wife of the Hand of the king, and, who knows? Maybe even Queen. The two became infatuated with eachother. Maegor was not willing to let go a woman who was so willing to marry him and bare his children and Alys was neither willing to let go the man who could elevate her house status, and that infatuation was so strong that they even accepted the exile!

Tyanna and Maegor!! Oh my god, what can i say about Tyanna and Maegor that it had not been said alredy? They surely were close to each other, to the point Maegor fully believed him when she accused Alys of cheating on Maegor. He followed her advise and trusted her, she helped him after his injury on the head, and even supported him when he took the decision to take three New wives. Perhaps she tought that she was safe as Maegor trusted her so much, that she was safe from Maegor's brutality. She was the woman that had most power over Maegor (after Visenya), so it was possible that she was poisoning Maegor's other wives too, but that doesn't explain why she never ended pregnant. As Mother of Maegor's children, that would surely cement her over his other wives and put her in the position of THE QUEEN, not Maegor's third wive. Her lack of pregnancies makes me believe that, after all, Ceryse was not the barren one in here, hmmmm

Elinor Costayne and Maegor, oh, ELINOR AND MAEGOR!!!! I love their dynamic! And i love every single theory about Maegor's death. She killing him with the help of the kingsguard? Oh, amazing, wonderful! Her finding her husband killed by someone else that was not her!?!? SWEET MOTHER OF MINE!!! HER FINDING HIS OWN HUSBAND THAT JUST KILLED HIMSELF DUE TO ALL HIS DEEDS?!?!? ALMIGHTY GOD IN THE SKIES!!!

And the Last one the Aenys-Maegor-Rhaena. They are like the proto Viserys-Daemon-Rhaenyra, and i can see it! Yet, i can't see Maegor and Aenys being as close as Daemon and Viserys or the grooming that Daemon inflicted upon Rhaenyra happening with Maegor and Rhaena. As i said, they do hold similarities, but the Aenys-Maegor-Rhaena relationship doesn't hold the same strenght and obsession as the other. The potencial is there, i just can't see it.

Thanks for your question, anon!!!

[lightneverfades]

Lokius / Haunted Mansion & Crimson Peak AU | Priest!Mobius and Thomas Sharpe (19th century era) | Music: X

"You may not believe in the afterlife, Mr. Sharpe, but know this... most of us will see the light at the end of our lives, but not before we look into the very essence of darkness."

Thomas's eyebrows furrowed. "Your words give little comfort to a grieving man. I'm here to hire you to expel the spirits, that is all. Your spiritual guidance is not required."

Mobius gazed at Thomas Sharpe for a while, perhaps longer than necessary, before nodding. "Of course."

The tension that had settled over Thomas's shoulders seemed to loosen, but the hardened expression continued to stay. Mobius wondered, not for the first time, what Thomas Sharpe's face would look like when he smiled. Perhaps in lighter, better circumstances, he would have been able to see such a moment. But today was not to be.

Mobius had been asked to meet Thomas Sharpe one month after the young lord came to realize that he was being haunted. It had also been one month since his sister had died in a tragic accident, making him the last surviving heir of the Sharpe family. For a man who did not believe in the existence of god, however, Mobius can guess how much it must have pained the man to succumb to contacting him.

Mobius was glad he did because he could sense that the spirit (or spirits?) that dwelled in this mansion were malevolent. He had felt it the moment he stepped closer, each step growing heavier with every passing moment. By the time he reached the door, he felt the stifling thick air as if it were a curling grip around his throat, trying to suffocate him.

Thomas Sharpe had continued to remain within the mansion in spite of the looming otherwordly problem, which Mobius found to be peculiar, considering most men and women would have abandoned the mansion a long time ago to find their lodgings elsewhere until the issue was solved. But there was a stubbornness to his actions for staying put.

Did he not believe that I can exorcise the spirits properly? Mobius thought.

The first night crawled slowly. The young lord had given him a room to stay in. It was small but quaint; comfortable enough, but not cozy enough for him to stay any longer than a few days at most.

Since there was still a bit of daylight to spare. Mobius was invited to meet with the man to discuss certain matters after he settled down, and he agreed. He was intrigued when Thomas Sharpe asked him to meet him in the library. This room was relatively larger, and Mobius saw the room was filled with shelves that carried books of many different titles, some of which he recognized, while others were foreign to him. What was clear was that the mansion had a very intriguing collection ranging in many different categories of subjects, and it had been curated with care over the years by many generations of Sharpes. Mobius can easily see Thomas Sharpe being one of them.

When Mobius had walked in, he found Thomas sitting in a Victorian wingback armchair with a book in his right hand, his elbow settling on the armchair so that the book's slightly yellowing and bent pages on the corners, bristling with age, were splayed out before him eagerly. Thomas was so engrossed in his reading that for a second, he didn't seem to notice Mobius was even in the room. Mobius took in his concentrated, furrowed eyebrows as his gaze traced the words on the page, fully engrossed in the subject. The spine of the book read, 'Frankenstein' by Mary Shelley and took Mobius aback a little because not only was this book his favorite but he was intrigued by why Thomas was reading it as well.

Mobius coughed softly to get Thomas's attention, and for a moment the baronet's long lashes blinked in confusion as if he was unsure where he was. But this gaze settled upon Mobius, cool crystalline blue eyes taking him in. Thomas set the book down on the chair, carefully as if it were precious; and perhaps it was. Perhaps it had sentimental value. He stood up to greet him and spoke with an eloquent British accent that felt out of place in New Orleans.

"Father Mobius. Forgive me, I had been immersed in the story."

Mobius smiled, "Frankenstein is fascinating."

Thomas looked amused and a little surprised, from the way his eyes widened just a fraction. "You have read Shelley's work?"

Mobius nodded, and he couldn't help but give a small smile as well at the little twinkle in Thomas's eyes that seemed to warm his usually guarded and distant azure eyes. "Mmm, it's quite a book."

Thomas's cocked his head, "What did you make of it?"

Mobius thought for a moment, and the silence fell but it was not an unkind or fretful kind of silence that needed to be filled with words or noise. If anything, it seemed natural, a calm quiet that was broken when Mobius spoke, "I... pity the monster."

"Oh?" Thomas said. Mobius hadn't noticed before, but he found Thomas had been gripping his hands into a tight grip as if he were holding something in. As to what, he couldn't quite fathom. But it contrasted with the man's interest in his answer.

"The monster had no choice on whether to be alive or not, and yet it was shunned by its creator."

Thomas's eyebrows rose, "Can the same not be said of your God, Father? Does he not also forsake us on this land?"

Now it was Mobius's turn to be amused, "He never leaves our side, Mr. Sharpe. Even if you may not have faith in him anymore."

Thomas was clearly not convinced, but this time he did not give him a cold remark as he did their first meeting. Instead, the man regarded him with curiosity. "It is not a question regarding loss of faith, Father. I merely choose what to believe. Like Victor Frankenstein, I am engrossed in finding the meaning of life through facts and actualities. I find comfort in it."

Mobius inclined his head in a small nod. He wasn't about to comment on the man's belief again, no matter how tempting that might be. While he was a religious man to his core, having been raised in it, he knew there were men who believed in science, finding it to be reliable and honest in its writings, whereas religion gave little more than soothing thoughts that did not give these men any advantages in their businesses. He had heard Thomas to be a skilled inventor, which he guessed was another reason why the man trusted numbers and science to that of the teachings of God.

The two men had found a place to sit and discuss the matter of the house and the haunting, as well as how Mobius will expel the spirits in the house. The conversation was succinct, to the point. And conversations about God was not brought up after that. They left, but not before Mobius noticed that this time... Thomas's right hand, which had been curled into a tight fist, was twitching as if something was causing this nervous tick. He did not comment on it, but it stuck with him.

Was Thomas ill? Or perhaps the stresses of the past few weeks had been affecting his health? Mobius couldn't help but worry. I will try to ask him, gently... Mobius thought to himself as he went back to his room.

As the darkness ebbed and latched onto every corner of the mansion's walls, Mobius felt the presence of the spirit grow stronger as night fell. He hadn't quite let this fact settle quite yet when he had been having his conversation with the baronet. Or rather, he hadn't quite wanted to worry Thomas or scare the man, even though he probably could guess he was most likely made of sturdier stuff than most.

Readying himself, Mobius pulled out his bible and cross. Goosebumps formed over his skin as a chill enveloped the room. He had memorized all the words inked on those pages by heart, and the Latin inscriptions had saved him numerous times when he had to perform an exorcism. Perhaps he was going to be lucky and the spirits will come to him, not the other way around?

He waited but nothing happened. With a sigh, Mobius stepped out of his room, grabbing the lantern as he did. The door creaked, as well as the floorboards. He looked around, and the silence and chill greeted him. Slowly, he walked through the hallways of Sharpe Mansion. He passed by many a room, taking in how huge this mansion was.

According to the young baronet's report, he had described the phenomenon where the room temperature had dropped dramatically. Thomas Sharpe had also been plagued by numerous odd noises occurring in the first week, many of which sounded like screams as well as cackling laughter. After the second and third week, he'd seen glimpses of shadows which he guessed were the spirits. In the mornings, he would find dead animals outside of the mansion, as if laid out like blood sacrifices.

"Must have been upsetting," Mobius had said. It was the usual sort of words he said aloud to most of the people he helped. It seemed to reassure them a little, knowing that they were being heard. However in Thomas Sharpe's case, he seemed to flinch as if acknowledging the disadvantage of his situation meant he was also accepting his weaknesses. His lips pressed together as he looked Mobius straight in the eye.

"It did not scare me."

Mobius's eyes widened a little in disbelief, "Really? Not even a little?"

Thomas did not answer him then, instead taking it upon himself to continue detailing the string of strange occurrences that happened in that one month. In Mobius's mind, the list was enough to scare him if he had nothing to fend himself with.

There was a sound of a loud thud, as if a large piece of furniture had been dropped to the floor and Mobius turned in the direction of the sound. It had come from behind one of the rooms he had passed by.

"Mr. Sharpe?" Mobius called out, but he saw no one behind him. Narrowing his eyes, he walked back to where he heard the sound and stood in front of an oak door. He heard another thud again, this time slightly less louder than the first and he knew that it was coming from this room.

Mobius contemplated going in search of the young baronet, but something told him that perhaps this room was unlocked. Spirits had a tendency to play cruel games, and if they were the kind Mobius had encountered in the past, then he had a feeling they were more than willing to play with him for sport.

It was only then that he noticed there was a name on the room, and his eyes widened when he saw the name of the master of the house etched into the silver name plate.

Thomas Sharpe.

It was chilled over, and Mobius saw small speckles of frost seemingly covering over it. But that was absolutely impossible, in this New Orleans heat.

"Mr. Sharpe? Are you there?"

No answer.

Mobius breathed in deeply and tried the handle. Unfortunately for him, he was wrong about the door being unlocked. He twisted and tried to push it forward but to no avail. He could run back to where the servants might be, if they were even here, to seek the room keys but Mobius had a dreadful feeling that there wasn't time.

Gosh, I hate this part.

Bracing himself, he stepped back a moment and then slammed into the wood. It creaked in protest, but Mobius continued to crash into it a few more times, all the while feeling the cold further chilling his body to the point where his breath was coming out in white vapors.

After the sixth try the door relented, and in Mobius went, staggering before he found his footing. Panting and sweating, he looked up, expecting to see a glimmer of glowing figures of some kind in the room. What he found instead caused him to take a sharp intake of breath.

"Mr. Sharpe?" Mobius said uncertainly at the man who stood near the bed, his back and face turned away from him. Thomas was unresponsive, and there was a red glow surrounding him that rippled around his form.

"Thomas...?"

It was only after a few moments before Thomas Sharpe's shoulder twitched, and then his head slowly turned to look at Mobius.

"I am not Thomas."

Mobius's eyes widened as he saw Thomas Sharpe's eyes were glowing red, his face twisted into a wide smile. It seemed so out of character from the Thomas Sharpe that Mobius had come to know over the few hours he'd met, and it caused a shiver to ripple down Mobius's spine.

His grip on the bible tightened, and Mobius raised his cross higher.

"You will not take him," the spirit that used Thomas's voice hissed.

"Tell me who you are," Mobius demanded.

Whoever it was that used Thomas's body as his puppet seemed to find this question amusing. "I know men like you. Here to corrupt us all with your superstitious lies."

"Tell me who you ARE!" Mobius repeated his demands, and this time he took a few broad steps towards the spirit. The spirit hissed, and its eyes burned bright.

"Lady Lucille Sharpe. But you knew this already."

"Why did you possess your brother's body?"

Lucille tilted her head just a little, and her hands cross over her back. Mobius found a devilish glint in her eyes. It was disconcerting to see them in Thomas Sharpe's eyes. So... wrong.

"The better question is, how would you like to die, priest? Because you will die, and when I see the life leave your eyes, I will savor it as I feel my brother's anguish for not having been able to save you."

[angelicangel444]

Bruises˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Summary: Joel Miller is a lonely man; there’s only one solution he can come up with to fill that lonely feeling.

Warnings/Additional Tags: Rape/Non-Consensual Sex, Age Difference, Size Kink, Rough Sex, Loss of Virginity, Breeding Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Joel Miller was always a lonely man. And even before Ellie, he didn’t quite feel like he was always welcomed into peoples lives, especially with Tess.

Tess was independent, and while they worked great as a smuggling team, they didn’t always see eye to eye on certain situations. And while he was so hesitant on taking Ellie to the fireflies, Tess was determined to make him do it, as her dying wish it seemed. And yet he failed her out of his own selfish need to feel like he belongs in Ellie’s life. The loneliness having taken over him. And even after he continued to lie to Ellie after the events that took place upon their arrival at Saint Mary’s Hospital, he eventually found Ellie drifting away from him, certain that Joel lied to her.

And now that they’ve been settled in Jackson for about almost a year, he’s never felt more lonely then he’s felt before as he watches Ellie leave their shared home to hang out with Dina.

Joel would admit that he’s a lonely man, the last time he was close to someone that wasn’t a family member was way long ago with Sarah’s mother. And even after Sarah’s mother had abandoned them as soon as Sarah was fresh out the womb, Joel didn’t have much time to go out and meet new women, much less make new friends besides the people he worked with.

So now he’s just socially awkward, closed off and not to mention really rude to people that give him long looks as he walks home from patrol or from the diner after his dinner.

And Joel wasn’t ugly by any means, with the way all the ladies looked at him when they thought he wasn’t looking. He could have his picking, and yet he couldn’t help but to feel selfish and want a younger woman. A younger woman like Veronica.

Now Veronica is five years older than Ellie, way younger than Joel who’s fifty two going on fifty three. And there was no possible way that he was going to get her. And Joel bet that she didn’t even notice him when her father is asking Joel about Ellie and how they’re doing. Not when she has a hoard of older brothers always trailing behind her when she walks about the town. They’re younger than Joel, just as equally tall as him, but have more muscle mass and are quick, so if Joel even wants to consider having a conversation with Veronica, it had to be alone, under the pretense that he needs her help with something insignificant as helping Ellie with her homework.

So that’s how he finds Veronica standing on his porch, hands in her oversized black sweatpants, her oversized black hoodie over her head, she looks smaller, almost tiny in her own clothes.

Sometimes Joel wonders how she looks underneath the baggy clothes she always wears, but she sure is pretty, with her wide blue eyes, freckles brown against her pale white skin, her full lips painted in black lipstick, and even if she has a giant scar upon her right cheek, was was still pretty, and even if she had her hair up in a messy bun and looks like she would rather be somewhere else rather than here, she still looks pretty.

“Uh, hi Mr. Miller…my daddy mentioned that Ellie needed some help on her math homework? Is she here?” Veronica stares up at him with those beautiful blue eyes of hers, and maybe Joel imagined it, but he swears she batted her eyelashes in an attempt to seem innocent.

“Uh…no she’s not here at the moment, but if you want, you can come in and wait for her. She shouldn’t be late on getting home now.” He watches her as she looks behind him and into the dimly lit hallway of the old house. “Oh, okay…I’m not really supposed to be alone with men that aren’t my family, so I think I’ll just come by a little more later when she’s home.” Joel feels his jaw tighten under the forced smile he put on, “I understand, but maybe it’s more convenient for you to wait. ‘Stead of going all the way back across town y’know.”

Joel doesn’t want to seem too eager, doesn’t want to scare her off when this could be his only opportunity. But he can’t help but to continue looking down at her, she’s just too cute for her own good.

“That’s true…,” she says as he turns to look at the empty street behind her, covered in a thick blanket of white snow, the sky a dark grey. She looks back up at him, “well if you don’t mind…I’ll wait for her here, I’m sure my family wouldn’t mind me being alone with you, I mean…you’re kinda my daddy’s friend.” Joel smiles down at her as he moves aside to let her in the warm house. “By all means, make yourself at home.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Veronica feels awkward. She’s never been in Ellie’s house before, and it’s not like she knows Mr. Miller or the younger girl that much. So it came as a surprise when her father had mentioned that Ellie needed help with her homework, said that Mr. Miller was worried she was falling behind with the other kids at school, but was just to embarrassed to ask for help from the teacher.

So that’s how she finds herself sitting on their comfortable couch in their cozy living room, there’s a fire blazing from the fireplace and the house smells like warm cinnamon apple cider. She’s surprised that her brothers didn’t protest to her coming over, and it’s not like Ellie’s the best influence either, for such a young age Ellie was nothing but trouble. From sneaking out, to smoking weed…and yet her daddy wanted her to be nice and lead Ellie on a better path, but Veronica could care less for the girl, honestly.

She’s just trying to be nice.

She can tell that Joel struggles in raising Ellie all by himself, and it’s not really her business, but she hears from the other girls at church that Ellie wasn’t even his biological daughter. Why did he even bother with her? Maybe it’s cause they’ve been through so much together, the trauma making them stick together because they can relate. But from what Veronica can tell, Ellie seems wary of Joel, she’s hardly at home most of the time anyways. Veronica always sees her hanging out that weird girl Dina, the same girl who would stare at Veronica as she walked home from patrols, and it irritated Veronica to no end…that girl had a staring problem.

“Thanks so much for stopping by, Ellie’s been falling behind on her homework a lot. I really care for her so I appreciate the help.” Veronica hears Joel talk to her from the kitchen, having offered her a drink in the mean time as she waits.

“No worries Mr. Miller, it’s not like I’m doing anything important either way.” She leans back onto the couch, looking up at the ceiling. “Joel is just fine sweetie, no need to call me Mr. Miller.” Veronica watches as Joel makes his way back into the living room, looking up at him as looks up he towers over her, his right hand extended towards her to give her the mug full of hot chocolate. “Oh okay, I just didn’t want to seem rude…thanks for the drink.”

“No problem.” Joel sits on the opposite side of the couch, having gotten himself a glass of whiskey. Joel watches as Veronica takes a sip of the hot chocolate he made her, blowing on it slightly with her painted lips, she cautiously takes a small sip and sets the mug down in front of her on the small coffee table.

“Can I ask you something?” Joel suddenly speaks up, watching as Veronica turns to look at him with a confused look. “Uh…yeah sure. What’s up?”

“Are you a virgin?” The look of confusion upon her face turns into a shocked expression, and Joel can’t help but to chuckle slightly as she looks at him weirdly.

“Excuse me?” She moves away from him, “you heard me,” Joel simply replied back, placing his glass of whiskey on the side table beside him. Joel can tell that she’s uncomfortable, but she doesn’t let her discomfort get to her as much because before Joel even knows it, she’s answering his question.

“I don’t think that’s any of you’re business.” She’s turning away from him then, quick to make her way towards the front door of the house, but before she can even have her hand reach for the doorknob, Joel’s pulling her towards him with a grip on her wrist that’s painful it makes her whine pathetically.

She glares at him as she begins to struggle against him, attempting to wrestle her way out of his grip but he’s stronger, taller, and more experienced with hand to hand combat than she is. She let’s out a loud gasp as he shoves her down onto the ground, not bothering to turn to even look at him, she attempts to crawl her way forward, thinking that maybe if she made it to the back door, she’ll be safe.

“Don’t ya’ think it’s rude to leave without a goodbye, didn’t that daddy of yours teach you any manners?” Veronica let’s out a loud yelp when she feels Joel grab at her hair and pull her back towards him. Her back slamming harshly up against his solid chest. “Fuck you!” She yells through the pain, attempting again to make an escape but he’s holding her with a bruising grip.

“Answer my damn question.” He isn’t even yelling, yet Veronica feels fear creeping up her spine in a cold chill, how can he be so calm? Veronica suddenly groans in pain when Joel slams her down onto the floor again, holding her head up by her hair. “Yes! I am…please, just let me go- I won’t tell anyone this happened. I swear!”

“God…,” She hears him sigh behind her, satisfied with her answer, “I promise to be gentle.” Upon hearing that, Veronica struggles up against him, rubbing her ass against his forming bulge but she’s only trying to back him off of her, but he puts his weight down onto her back, making her whine. “Why are you doing this- I thought y-you were nice.”

Joel laughs, mockingly so. “Oh baby, you don’t know a single thing about me.” Veronica looks up in horror at the back door, hoping to God that hopefully Ellie comes home, or maybe one of her brother come looking for her. But nothing happens, and even if she continues to struggle, she’s not gonna get anywhere.

He wasn’t even beginning to touch her inappropriately, and she already felt betrayed, pathetic, and weak. “Please- w-we can just pretend this never happened.” Joel’s growing restless, getting annoyed in the worse of ways. “There’s no point in fighting, this was bound to happen eventually.” The world was so cruel. Joel was much stronger than her, he was older and practically towered over her like everyone else. Veronica’s shaking, feeling horrified. She just wants to go home, and she hates that she’s crying, what would her family think of her? What would they think if she gave up? That she allowed herself to be condemned. She hates Joel. Wishes he could drop dead at this very moment.

Veronica flinches when she feels the cold air hit at the freckled skin of her now exposed torso. Closing her eyes tightly and letting the tears spill down her chubby freckled cheeks when she hears Joel threw her ruined sweater somewhere, cupping at her titties through her black lacy bra. “Joel, seriously! Stop!” She’s begging, it’s pathetic but she can care less about her ego now.

Joel ignores her, clipping her bra off and down her arms, watching as her pink nipples harden. He feels his cock stir in his jeans, the fabric feeling suffocating on his thighs. He quickly turns her around, her back slamming up against the wooden floor loudly, but she doesn’t look up at him, to busy crying pathetically.

Joel groans as he looks down at her, she’s breathing hard, bleeding just a little from her head, her cheeks are flushed and she’s balling her tiny manicured hands into angry fists. She’s looking more beautiful than he’s ever seen her.

He kisses her on her cheek, so gentle it makes her sick. His beard scratches at her soft skin as he kissed his way down towards her neck, down to her collarbones. He sucks bright red hickies everywhere, chewing at her skin with his sharp teeth, it makes her tighten her thighs to try and numb the pain.

Joel unexpectedly takes a rosy nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly and loudly as he does so, it makes Veronica whine helplessly at how good it feels. She hates herself more than ever. He harshly bites down on her nipple, sucking with more force that it makes her wet between her thick thighs.

“Mm…tell me you want my cock.” His voice is desperate, so needy and it makes Veronica feel tingly, a man like Joel is taking what he wants and yet he’s acting like a desperate pervy old man that’s in need of some sweet, tight pussy.

“Oh god…you’re fucking sick.” Veronica opens her eyes and glares up at the old man, and before Joel even knows it, she’s spitting up at his face, and it makes him flinch back as it hits him on his left eye unexpectedly. “Ah-.” Veronica moans in pain when Joel brings his hand down onto her cheek harshly, slapping her head to the side at the harsh impact.

“Say it, you fucking stupid whore!” He actually yells, Veronica wails loudly, tears streaming down her flushed face. “I-I want your cock so badly! Please!” Veronica groans in pleasure when they’re lips connect, teeth and tongue brush up against each other, she closes her eyes as she feels drool slipping down her chin, and when they separate, a string of it connects their mouths.

He yanks her sweatpants down her legs, groaning when he gets a good look at her panty clad pussy. He throws her sweatpants behind him, his large , rough hands take hold of her smooth thighs as he buries his face between them. Veronica takes hold of his messy hair, attempting to pull his face away from her intimate. But he doesn’t let up, taking a deep inhale of her pussy, smelling at her cum stained lacy thong.

God it was better than he had imagined. Her pussy was just perfect, “can’t wait to taste you.” Before she can bitch at him he quickly pulls her panties off and engulfs her clit into his mouth, sucking harshly and it makes her spasm harshly against him.

“Aah~!” Veronica throws her head back harshly and it hits at the floor loudly, but Joel doesn’t let up as he moves down at her, throwing her legs over his shoulders as he indulges. Licking down her fat pussy lips as he sucks and licks, Veronica squirms her legs as he licks down towards her ass. “No!” She screams, feeling heat at the pit of her stomach, “stop-.”

Joel’s fingers end up joining in, pushing in aggressively into her tight heat, pumping his digits in and out with the same harsh motion.

“F-Fuck.” She moans as she cums all over his tongue, chin, and fingers. Her thighs feeling rough from his beard, the skin a bright red. “Such a good girl.” He praises her as he pulls his fingers out. He’s suddenly undressing before her, stripping out of his flannel shirt and pushing his jeans down to his thighs, Veronica panics. “No! Please don’t!” She begs.

“Shut the fuck up.” He murmured as he pulls his boxers down next, exposing his long, thick cock. “No-Joel, that’s- that’s not gonna fit.” She cries, the tears never stopping.

But he ignores her pleas as he lines himself up with the tight opening of her pussy, slowly inserting himself into her heat. Veronica throws her head back in a pleasured moan, the tears falling down onto her brushed skin, his hand mark upon her cheek turning purple as she digs her nails into the palm of her hand harshly, she’s sure to draw blood.

Veronica’s a small girl, so when he pushes in all the way and bottoms down, she can see and feel a bulge in her stomach. “Please- don’t! I don’t think I can handle it~!” She moans out, her voice a high pitch and breathless.

He slaps at her thigh harshly, leaving behind an equally big hand print that will bruise later on.

He pulls out his cock halfway, only to slam it back in aggressively making Veronica sob as he continues to fuck her pussy hard and raw. His cock becomes coated in her white pussy juices, he’s so lost in his mind as he groans at the velvety feeling of her warm pussy walls enveloping him.

It’s been so long since he’s fucked someone, he now realizes how desperate he is, how he won’t last any longer. He takes one of her nipples into his mouth and sucks as he continues to plunge his cock in and out, Veronica’s long gone, her small hands are clutching onto his strong biceps and she just let’s him take what he wants.

He’s fucking into her faster, his big balls hit at her plump ass cheeks as he does. The sound of skin against skin becoming apparent, but Joel…neither Veronica care if the neighbors hear, or if Ellie or one of her brothers show up.

“Fuck you’re such a slut, but I gotta admit…I like you a lot.” He moans, looking down at her beautiful, bruised face.

“Fuck Joel, you need h-help.”

“I want you to be all mine. That’s why I’m not gonna pull out- you’ll have my babies, you can live with me and I’ll have you bred all the time. Fucking you whenever I can to keep you full of my cum.” He rambles on and on but Veronica shakes her head frantically at the idea of having to be stuck with Joel for the rest of her miserable life.

“N-No!” She screams, attempt to pull him away, but it’s useless.

He cums hard, and Veronica flinches when she feels his hot cum fill her womb. But even after he cums he doesn’t take his cock out, he stays seated inside of her, ensuring his cum doesn’t leak out.

Joel pulls his softened cock out, quick to stand up and pull his boxers and jeans up. He searched for Veronica’s clothes and shoves it towards her once he collects all the missing articles of clothing.

“Let’s not talk about this…to anyone.” Veronica voices out, her tone full of venom as she glared up at Joel. She stands up on her legs, feeling shaky as she does so.

“Right.” Joel nods his head as he watches her get changed back into her baggy clothes, getting one last glimpse of her curvy body before it’s concealed.

Joel changes back into his shirt, and luckily he does, because Ellie comes barging in through the front door, stopping abruptly as she catches them still lingering in the hallway.

“Veronica? What are you doing here?” Ellie questions, clearly confused as she looks between Joel and her. “And what happened to your face?”

Veronica let’s out a laugh, something unexpected that Joel and Ellie have never seen her do. And quite frankly, Veronica looks worse for wear. Her eyes are red from crying, her cheek are flushed red and still bruised, dried blood from the cut on her forehead and her hair a mess.

“Fuck you Joel.” She flicks him off as she walks towards the door, bumping her shoulder harshly against Ellie as she passes by her. The door slams harshly behind her retreating figure, the outside a pitch black now.

“What was that about?” Ellie questions, seemingly irritated, “nothing.” Joel simply replied, shrugging his shoulders as he turns away from the young girl.

“Nothing at all.”

[diet-jesus]

Hi! So I recently joined my Church, new to God and all 🤍 can I ask what makes you a catholic and why you chose this route? every time I ask someone what the difference is, people say it’s works-based but they just leave it at that and they never expand on it and I truly want to know if that’s okay with you! because the priest also talks about “getting grace” by the work we do at a Christian church so that also makes me confused even more. thank you and god bless you <3

Hiii ♡ long answer ahead tee hee.

Faith vs Works.

Catholics know that we need both faith and works. It’s not “I have faith in Jesus so now I can go about my merry way”. So many people profess that Jesus is Lord but they do nothing to conduct themselves as a true follower. They don’t renounce the works of the devil but instead they willingly and joyfully continue to partake in his works. They do not follow Gods will or keep his commandments nor are they working on it in private. Scripture says that if you believe in your heart and profess with your lips Jesus as Lord then you’ll be saved. We can’t isolate Bible passages and exclude others. Matthew 7:21 Not everyone who says to me “Lord, Lord” will enter the kingdom of heaven. Only those who do the will of my father in heaven. They have done no works, therefore when they call out “Lord, Lord”, they will not enter His kingdom. Believing in God is not enough, it is just step one. Faith without works is like having no faith. In James 2:24 it says that we are not saved by faith alone. Faith is needed of course, but it is not the only thing.

On the flip side, there are people who do not fully believe Jesus is Lord or believe in His kingdom. They may even acknowledge a higher power but have no faith in God in particular. They may be a truly wonderful person, honest, giving, kind, charitable, just an all around upstanding individual. A truly good person that everyone can see is an incredible testament of good character and proper morals. But they have no faith and do not profess Jesus as Lord, so their works alone will not save them.

So don’t think that there is a certain amount of charity donations you can make or x amount of days attending church that will make you holy or not. It’s not a costume that can be put on, it’s not about appearing noble in public but being a deviant in private. It’s not running wild while constantly saying “only god can judge me” when people acknowledge your bad behavior. Faith and works together is the key.

Why I am a Catholic:

Family influence

I was raised to believe in God but not necessarily under any specific denomination. My mother’s side of the family is Catholic but we have many Protestants in the family as well. Church attendance was moderate as a child but slowly weaned as I got older and my religious upbringing was more of a passive thought than an active part of my life. I think my mom was more in tuned with it years before but by the time I came around (I’m the youngest with a 15 year age gap between my oldest siblings), it just wasn’t her top priority anymore. She would gift me rosaries and religious iconography but the education wasn't there. Although I didn’t learn what it meant to be Catholic growing up, I was very familiar with aspects of it and it felt comfortable to me.

Personal exploration

As I got older, like teen years, I considered myself agnostic since I really lacked any education or understanding of God and Christianity. Like I said, we’d go to church but I didn’t get why anyone had to. I’d see my mom do a rosary but I didn’t know what any of that meant. I couldn’t claim to believe in a religion if I couldn’t tell you the first thing about it. My best friend and her family were all atheists and I spent a lot of time at their house. It almost influenced me to call myself atheist but I knew it didn’t feel right. Atheism is a direct answer to the question of do you believe in God. Agnosticism is more so when you haven’t been convinced yet but you are absolutely open to having your mind changed and accepting new information. I did some research on various religions, trying to figure out the differences and what they believe to see if I align with any of it or if I am simply a nonbeliever and of them all, the teachings of the Catholic Church are what made me feel like I finally found the truth. This did not happen overnight. It was over the course of several years.

Belief system

Getting a proper Catholic education was finding the truth. Being properly introduced to the catechism was eye opening. The words in the nicene/apostles creed perfectly align with my beliefs. You can say that there are plenty of similarities and overlaps with other Christian denominations but I’d say the main thing that makes Catholicism different is a wholehearted belief that God is present in the Eucharist and the way we celebrate that. It’s not symbolic, it’s just a cute little thing we do as an homage, He is really there. When we attend adoration, it is not worshipping a false idol, it is worshipping Him. That is one thing I can’t get from other denominations. You can mention a belief in saints, going to confession, our reverence for Mary mother of Christ, nuns, or other things also set us apart but as far as beliefs down to our core, I think it’s the way we celebrate Eucharist. That is what made me choose to be confirmed by the Catholic Church. Only by attending mass and being in a state of grace can I receive it. I can’t go to random churches and receive it. I’ve seen a church take their excess communion wafers and toss them to the birds in the back parking lot after service bc it’s just a symbolic thing to them rather than an actual belief that the Lord is present.

I hope this helped.

[sharkdream3421]

Werewolf X OC - Because it's you

Here is the tale of a human who loves people without fear. They were curious, but also talented, kind, and understanding. Here is the tale of Adriana Allaband.

Adriana's POV

I was starting to fall in love with him. Tyler Ryder, my best and closet friend who has always had my back since the first day we met. We met each other at the age of eight. Our parents made that possible as my Dad introduced me to his friend who he works with at his job. When I lay my eyes on him he was small, curious, shy, and I had a good feeling that we could be friends.  When we shook hands it was satisfying. I don't have many friends as they all treated me like crap, one even lied about being my friend.

I remember it clearly. My friend asked me to go get some snacks and bake a hot dog for her to eat. I gladly accepted and left the room. Although, when I had the snacks and hot dog in hand I heard her talking to someone else on the phone. I remember her words clearly, and it still hurts to this day.

"Don't worry, no one wants to be with Adriana. She's a loser, and a nerd. I mean have you seen her grades? She has 4's on her report card! I'm not going to hang out with someone like that." 

Without thinking tears started to come out of my eyes and the first thing I did was drop the food on the floor and get out of that house ASAP. But, Tyler was different I just sensed a good person to be with and over time we started to become close friends. One time, when I was bullied Tyler stood up for me, which was unlike his character. I thought I was hallucinating, but I was not. It was all true. I then found out that he actually cared for me as his friend. I mean that girl who ditched me never defended me at all. Tyler once admitted that he even trusts me when I was being accused of stealing from a certain classmate and tried to defend me.

We did everything together. Go to the movies, play video games, go to the park, and everything that a true friend would do. When I was in 9th grade my parents asked me if I like Tyler, you know like like like (love).

"Yeah, I think I just might do." I replied back to my mother.

I know a few things about Tyler's family. They lived in Michigan at first, but then moved to where we live in Tennessee mainly because they had the worst neighbor possible.

"He was a (swear word) for sure." Tyler's dad would say.

Tyler's house wasn't too far from mine. It was just a couple blocks away. So when I went to his house it only took a couple minutes to get there.

Here now though, in college and spending almost my whole life with him. When ever I was around him I felt safe, and he was of course my closest friend in the whole world. Right at the top of the friends list. So, yeah I loved him. I loved him for every ounce of my being. I considered telling him, but would he return his love back to me?

I wondered if he was available today? I pulled out my phone and started texting.

Me: Hey you available tonight? Or got college work to do?

I waited until two minutes later I heard ringing coming from my cell phone.

Tyler: Yeah I'm available, all school work is done for this week. What do you want to do?

Me: We could go for a walk. Meet me at Christopher?

Tyler: Sure, see you there:)

I put my phone in my pocket, and let my Mom know that I was going out with Tyler. I shut the back door and made my way to Tyler's house.

I saw him standing at the bus stop and knew he was waiting for me, but he looked down at the ground conflicted. I decided to surprise him, just for fun. I squatted and slowly crept up behind him. I then slowly stood up and had my hands hover over his shoulders.

"You know your horrible at trying to sneak up on me Adriana." He said as he turned around to look at me with a neutral look on his face. He didn't look happy or sad just, there.

I looked back at him worried, "Hey what's wrong?" I asked.

He just looked away from me with a frown on his face, "Nothing."

I smirked as I crossed my arms, "Your horrible at lying you know."

"Adriana, I need to tell you something, but not here. Do you trust me?" He asked as he offered his hand to me.

I took his hand as I gave him a puzzling look, "Yeah of course I do, why?"

"You'll see." He responded.

With that we held hands as I followed him. We walked through a beautiful forest with green trees, hearing crickets, and seeing mosquitoes flying off into the distance. Just hopefully I won't get bitten. Here we arrived at the top of a cliff and I could see all the beautiful stars in the sky.

Tyler walked past me and stood by me looking up at the stars. "They're beautiful aren't they? They're beautiful just like you" He asked.

Soon pink started to spread across my face like a virus.

Tyler chuckled, but then immediately looked worried not too long after.

"Adriana, I have to tell you something. No, it's easier if I just show you."

Tyler then walked past me and stopped a few feet away from me.

"Tell me what?" I asked looking puzzled.

Then all of a sudden the most unexpected thing happened. Tyler took a scissors out from one of his pants pockets and stabbed the scissors in his pants right from where his butt would be. I then saw the scissors moving and could tell he was cutting.

What the hell is he doing!?

I took a step forward, but stopped until I saw probably the most unexpecting, no. The most impossible thing to happen right in front of my eyes.

Tyler closed his eyes as I watched his form slowly change. His hands slowly moving and shifting into something a little bigger. His hair growing a little bigger including the side bangs. His nose started to change and extend outward a little and a little more by each passing second. His teeth started turning into something sharper. Some grey thing started to grow from his skin at his face, collar, and hands. His nose started to extend outward even more and looked like he was growing a snout. The grey thing was...fur? The fur reached past his shirt and some of it even got onto his shirt, his face was covered in fur as well. His hands started to change into claws with fur covered all over his hand. Ears started to appear on his head, two ears right next to each other. Side by side like an animal. His eyes were the same the whole time from when he was human though. They still had that bronze color in them. Tyler's height changed too, he got a little taller after each passing second. I especially can't forget the tail that appeared hanging right from where his butt would be.

Then, his transformation was complete. He hunched over a little. With his brown eyes and fur illuminating in the moonlight. His ears stood straight up, and looked like triangles. Fur that came out of his shirt right by the collar and hands. His hands had turned into claws. Claws that didn't even look remotely terrifying. His hair was bigger and acted like a mane that came off from the tip of his nose all the way to the back of his neck. His snout extended outwards as he had his eyes right by his snout, one on each side. His tail wagged slowly going left and right. So, that's why he used the scissors, to make room for his tail.

And here I was. My best friend turned out to be some sort of...creature and the only thing I could do was just stand there with my mouth hanging wide open with absolute shock.

He panted as his mouth opened and closed relentingly eyes looking at the ground. Must have used a lot of energy to transform. Then his eyes moved right on me. The same brown ones he had even when he was human.

"Adriana." He slowly said as he then looked back down to the ground. His voice sounded like he was in fear.

"This is what I truly am." He spoke.

I tried to ask what he was and it was difficult of course. Learning that what you thought didn't exist and learned that it ACTUALLY existed is hard to process through. I have to see if it really is my Tyler. I took a few steps toward the human like creature. Each step I took made my heart beat even faster the closer I got toward him.

"What are you?" I asked as I swallowed something down my throat.

His eyes shifted to me. His head still hanging over, and his hair moving in the breezing night air.

"I'm a wolf, Adriana. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I was just afraid..." I was right by him standing in front of the brown eyed human like wolf. I knew he didn't want to cause any harm to me. His eyes looked kind, sincere, and caring. I know that it's Tyler, there was only one person who had that kind and caring voice, and those bronze eyes.

"Afraid of what?" I asked.

"I was afraid that you would think I'm some sort of monster." He replied.

I put my hand on his furry cheek. I could feel the fur going through my fingers. It was so soft, and he would definitely be perfect for a cuddle buddy.

"Your not a monster, your handsome, and perfect." I then went for it. I kissed him on the cheek, my lips going deep into his fur to reach his skin.

"Your not scared?" I could hear him say.

I broke out of the kiss and smiled up at him brushing a strand of hair away from one of his eyes. "I'm not scared because it's you." I then returned to kissing, but this time his mouth. I could feel Tyler's claws slowly going against the back of my head. After the short kiss I hugged him. Feeling his shirt and jacket against my face.

"I love you, Adriana." He said, and it was great to hear those words finally out.

"I love you too Tyler, no matter what form you take. I'll always love you." I replied.

I moved away from his chest, but I was still in Tyler's arms. "Although, I will admit." Tyler broke from the hug and looked into my eyes. I put my hand on his chest, "This form is better."

Suddenly, Tyler lowered me toward the ground. With his paw being on my back, while he bent over. Our heads touched, as his other paw went and touched my cheek. His fur gliding over my skin. Gosh he was so good at being handsome and showing love.

Tyler smirked, and gave a cough, which sounded like he was laughing or something. "Good to know."

All of a sudden a slimy thing went against my face. Hearing licking noises I shook my head trying to get the drool off of my face. "Ewwww! Tyler that's gross." I laughed as I used the sleeve of my jacket to wipe the rest of the drool off.

Tyler's smirk just grew bigger. "That's just only one of the features this form offers."

I touched his ears as they flickered. Dang that is so adorable! "Can't wait to find out myself." I said as I smirked back at him.

The End

Author's note: This scene is based off of a movie I saw and it's really good! You should see Wolf Children. If you have seen the movie you know what scene I'm talking about in particular and it's my favorite part of the movie!

Masterlist

[elowenbaudelaire]

Beyond the Mirror's Eyes

by Elowen Baudelaire

Lucas never stopped wondering what it was like being inside of a mirror.

It was far from seeing his surroundings in reverse, similar to the story he read when he was younger. Coming from a family of wizards, Lucas was a bit used on things that were considered far from reality by normal beings. One of it was owning any magical objects, and that was what sparked the idea of being inside of a mirror. A magic mirror.

As what he remembered, it was passed down to different families for many generations before it was handed to their care.

He never got the chance to use it as of now, but often saw either his mother or father speaking to it, and used a spell to summon the creature or spirit living in it.

“Entity of the magic mirror. Hear our pleas, and show thy thee.”

Lucas always found himself mesmerized whenever the entity of the mirror appeared before them. The entity was a woman, or more like a young maiden closed to his age. She was indeed beautiful, despite not wearing any jewelry to make her one, yet Lucas was bothered by the fact that her eyes looked as if she was waiting for Death to come by.

One day, Lucas took the opportunity to face the magical mirror all by himself when his parents were away that day. He took a deep breath before chanting the spell to call the magic mirror’s entity.

“Entity of the magic mirror. Hear my pleas and show thy thee.”

His own reflection started to fade slowly, and was soon replaced by the presence of the young maiden standing in what looked like a dark void.

“How can I help you, my lord?”

“Oh, umm…you can just call me Lucas! Addressing me that way sounds old, a-and too formal!” Lucas exclaimed, almost tearing his eyes away from the mirror out of sudden embarrassment.

The entity just stared at him, no emotions painted on her delicate face. Lucas’s shame suddenly faded, as soon as he thought of how long this girl was stuck in the mirror, and how it felt whenever no one was calling her. A picture came to his mind where the girl was either curled up or crying inside of nothing but darkness. 

It’s far from a reverse world. But more dreadful. What if the only time her place lit up was whenever she was being summoned? And…was she really bound in this place her entire life?!

“D-Do you have a name? I know this sounds silly, but I would like to know you,” Lucas said, trying his best to smile and sound cheerful.

“A magic mirror’s purpose is to answer their master’s questions. We are like another form of book. A source of knowledge. You are not supposed to talk to the mirror the same way as you’re doing.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you! I-It’s just that, I’m curious about who you are! You look like a human, or it’s not your real form?”

“Curiosity is equal to danger sometimes. And no, I don’t have other forms. This is what only left of me.”

The boy didn’t know why he felt sad for the entity. Even though what she said was a little vague, Lucas was certain that she was still in despair, carrying a large burden while being alone in such a place. He could tell that she went through hardships he didn’t intend to imagine because of how awful it could be.

He put his palm against the old glass, as if wanting to hold her hand and reassure her that she’s going to have someone to talk to. Not just for gaining information, but someone to confide their feelings.

“If you are thinking of setting me free, it’s too late now, my lord,” Lucas gasped and looked up because of what the entity said. And there for the first time, he caught a glimpse of sadness reflected through her eyes.

This made the two of them sit down, and leaned their heads against the glass. They were like two people trying to reach each other’s hearts despite being in different places, “What makes you say that I intend to set you free?”

“I don’t know either. Perhaps the tone of your voice? It may look like you want us to be acquaintances, but it seemed more deep than it sounded like.”

Was that really the reason why Lucas wanted to know more about her? He was still confused, but aware how she might be right about wanting for her to escape. But for what reason exactly?

“You can talk to me,” those came from his mouth, which also surprised him, “I’ll listen to what you’re about to say. You don’t need to worry because I’ll do it, too, okay?”

What’s going with him? Why did it seem that Lucas was mixing some things up?

“Hmm…interesting. But no matter what you’ll do, I will never be free from this place. I’m forever chained to the nothingness you’re seeing with me until it kills one day. I assure you I am still waiting for it to happen.”

“Were you cursed? T-There must be a way to let you out there,” the entity smiled secretly upon the confirmation.

But honestly, she was left speechless for a while because she didn't know how she was supposed to answer that kind of question. She didn’t know what to tell him, for the entity couldn’t remember exactly who she was, and how did she end up in such a dreadful place?

Was it a curse though? Or her personal choice?

She wouldn’t know the answer to that. Yet, sometimes whenever she closed her eyes, a mixture of feelings or rather memories began to overwhelm the entity. Her being in deep sorrow, furious voices echoing around, and the strangest of all was something she could only describe as soft and warm.

She always wondered if these had anything to do with her imprisonment, or just haunted memories of her former masters before being left to this family.

However, there was a mere fragment about her that she treasured the most, and that’s what she said to the young wizard instead of the answer to his current question, “You know what was funny? I kept on hearing about a certain word despite having no clue of my identity.”

“What is it then?”

“Saoirse, meaning being free, but look at my state now. I’m not even certain if it was indeed my name.”

Lucas held his tears back from flowing. Saoirse, such a beautiful name indeed. He could imagine her enjoying the warm sun, the sweet scent of flowers, and the soft grasses touching her bare feet as she ran without care. She would have smiled whenever she wanted, or done something more.

But how could that happen if Saoirse had been stuck in that thing for a long time?

This made Lucas recall his thoughts about being inside of a mirror, or a magic mirror to be exact. It wasn’t a reversed world, but rather a prison without any windows just to see the small portion of the outside.

The End.

[zoeisabelladaily]

King

Dear Diary,

Today marked my first official class at Ebonlores, and it was all about the magical history of our peculiar town. Professor Octavio Sagaskald, our history professor, delved into the intriguing story of Ebonvale and its once-united magical and mundane worlds.

Professor Saga, as we call him, spoke about a remarkable king, Oberon Theoarch, who believed in the coexistence of magical beings and mundanes. He had extraordinary magical powers but chose not to use them for personal gain. Instead, he championed the idea that there was no inherent difference between those with magical abilities and those without. His vision was for everyone to live together harmoniously.

However, Professor Saga had a different take on this. He considered King Theoarch’s vision impractical and even called it a “shitty idea.” I found myself disagreeing with him. From my time there, I never felt endangered by the mundanes . The professor continued with the tale, sharing how, after King Theoarch’s tragic demise at the hands of his own daughter, Princess Luna, the elders decided to separate Ebonvale from the mundane world. This revelation shocked me, considering I lived in Luna Mount Palace, named after Princess Luna. It made me question the tales surrounding her legacy.

Albert, intrigued by some family lore, asked about a pact and got a vague response from Professor Saga. It seemed like he wasn’t entirely certain about the details. Albert mentioned a pact made by a king centuries ago with a maharishi, promising coexistence between magical beings and mundanes. The pact apparently fractured over time, leading to the current segregation and, according to Albert, some violent incidents involving mundanes.

In the midst of our conversation, Lilith arrived with her boyfriend, Aric Aqualis, from the chamber Aquanique Haven. There was something about Aric that felt peculiar — something not quite visible but perceptible. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it left me with an uneasy feeling. After these revelations, I can’t help but wonder about the hidden layers of Ebonvale’s history and the mysteries that lie beneath the surface.

After my history class, I sought guidance from Lilith on reaching Professor Xorki’s office. Her advice was unconventional but useful — hold the door nearby, think of the place, and it will magically open to your desired destination. However, certain places are restricted, including our chambers, creating an invisible barrier that separates us from others. Lilith also mentioned that Professor Xorki was away at the ministry office, hinting at something significant brewing.

Later, I returned to Terravale Hall and immersed myself in the GeoGrimoire, a book brimming with spells and their applications. Watching younger students practice spells in the terrayard, I couldn’t resist joining them. Tansy and Thistle Fiddlefern, twins from Terravale Hall and my new classmates, approached me. They noticed the GeoGrimoire and willingly shared their magical wisdom.

They taught me a couple of spells, like “Silvani Concordia,” which establishes a magical link with nearby flora, enabling the caster to sense disturbances in the natural order. This spell is handy for detecting intruders or disruptions within Terravale Hall. Another spell, “Petra Nexus Vinctus,” entwines foes in flexible but unyielding earth tendrils, restricting movement and leaving them vulnerable to follow-up attacks. The whole experience was fascinating, and I found joy in the magical arts.

Amidst these magical learnings, I also made friends with Tansy and Thistle, who shared their journey of entering Ebonlores at the tender age of 10. Their insights into the world of spells and magical discovery intrigued me. The newfound camaraderie added warmth to my day.

Yet, even in these moments of joy and learning, thoughts of Adam lingered in my mind. Meeting new people and making friends can’t replace the connection I share with him. I find solace in the hope that our paths will cross again soon.

Hoping for reunions and magical moments, Zoe

[ninasbookshelf]

recs for sally rooney lovers: part 1

I will read anything Sally Rooney writes.

If you're like me—you admire Rooney's writing to the point where you'd savor even her daily to-do list if she released it—then you know intimately the horrifying and all-consuming experience of finishing Rooney's novels. "What am I supposed to do now?" Maybe you manage to briefly patch up the hollow feeling by ordering a used copy of Mr Salary on eBay, but the short story is over soon enough, and you are back to wondering whether you will ever read something so beautiful again.

Don't worry, I'm here.

I've been closely guarding my "Recommendations for Sally Rooney Lovers" list for the past few years. Slowly but surely I've added to the list, as I searched for hints of Rooney in other works I've read. For a time, I unintentionally made a habit of analyzing the books I read in the light of whether or not my fellow Sally Rooney fans would enjoy them, and why. Now I have enough recommendations for at least two posts, and I'm working my way towards a part three. I will make no promises on timing! It might even be awhile before part two is posted, because I really want to get it right. That being said, if you're a fan of Sally Rooney's writing and you enjoy these recommendations, please stick around! I'm saving a few of my favorites for part two.

There is something on this list for everyone. I give brief descriptions of each book and what is similar or different about the writing compared to Rooney's. To figure out which recommendations are best for you, I suggest considering what exactly it is you love about Sally Rooney's work, and then you can filter through the suggestions and see which ones share those traits.

I hope you enjoy!

Fault Lines by Emily Itami

I was lured into Fault Lines by the pretty book design and mention of Sally Rooney on the cover. The narration in the early pages is full of the long, winding, frazzled thoughts of a mother trying to keep her life together in Tokyo. This voice grated on me at first, but the more I read the less I noticed it, and soon enough I found myself immersed in the companionship of Mizuki's life.

Fault Lines echoes the intimacy of a Sally Rooney novel, sharing the confidential details of Mizuki's life as if she is a friend sharing her woes and escapades over coffee. It ties in reflections on both Japanese and American culture as the main character tries to find harmony between the mindset she is surrounded by and the one she grew to love while abroad. If you enjoy the close character insight and cultural reflections Rooney provides in her novels, Fault Lines is for you.

No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai

When I read No Longer Human for the first time in 2022, I fell in love.

Set in Japan, No Longer Human follows a young man in Japan named Oba Yozo as he tries to find his place and exist comfortably in a world where he often feels he doesn't belong. From a young age Oba Yozo learns to take on a certain "jokester" personality to get by, but this move results in his feeling insincere. The novel gives the reader such a raw look at the workings of the protagonist's mind throughout his life, that despite him being a deeply flawed person, by the end of the novel I couldn't help but have an affinity for the protagonist. It forces the reader to understand him. There were times when the protagonist angered me, and it actually hurt, that's how well I felt I knew him.

I think Rooney fans will be drawn to the way Dazai inserts the reader into the protagonist's psyche, as well as his interaction with the cultural changes happening in Japan and his relationship to money and class. As a warning, this book deals heavily with mental health and depression, so please keep that in mind before you decide to pick it up.

Scorpionfish by Natalie Bakopoulos

Scorpionfish follows Mira as she returns to a family apartment in Greece after the deaths of her parents. Mira gets into a routine of chatting with her new neighbor—a former sea captain—whenever the two are on their adjacent balconies, and slowly they start to open up to each other and find comfort in their daily routine as neighbors. This connection is set against a backdrop of Athens during a time when the city is facing instability economically and politically. Readers see the city and its people through Mira's eyes as she comes to terms with the reshaping of her familial, romantic, and even platonic relationships. We also see Mira's relationship to the city itself, and the difficulty of loving a place that one can't fully call home. One of the things I loved about this novel is the reflection on what I call "cultural limbo"; when you have one foot in the US and one in Greece, which one is yours? How do you exist floating somewhere in between?

The writing style is approachable and a great option for any Rooney fan.

Happy Hour by Marlowe Granados

I first read this book in 2021, and it was one of my favorite books of the year. I picked it up for the intriguing artwork on the covers, and I am so glad I did.

Happy Hour has refreshing and witty narration with keen observations on the New York City social scenes as experienced by Isa Epley and her best friend Gala. The two women are in their early twenties and are dead-set on having a summer of amusement in the city. The novel travels through both the quotidian and spontaneous events of their summer as the women navigate NYC nightlife, parties, friendships, and the dating scene. Happy Hour also details the sometimes harsh realities of Isa and Gala's situation as they try to get by financially in the city despite their lack of work visas. As a variety of issues attempt to derail their plans, Isa and Gala's determination to spend the summer simply enjoying themselves remains strong.

The writing in Happy Hour is more densely packed with observation than Rooney's works (which I find have more dialogue than Happy Hour if I remember correctly), but it's done in an intentional and artful way. The prose is charming and captivating, and the novel shares a tender depiction of female friendship. If you enjoy the reflective nature of Rooney's novels, the striving to get by, the intelligence and fun, and the way her characters find comfort through their relationships with each other, I recommend Happy Hour.

Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner

If you need a break from fiction, this one is for you! Crying in H Mart is a memoir examining Michelle Zauner's relationship with her late mother as she reflects on her mother's battle with cancer. Zauner pieces together her experience through the help of Korean cuisine, trying to grow closer to her mother by learning to cook the meals her mother used to make. Crying in H Mart has an approachable writing style as well as reflections on family and culture that I think many Sally Rooney fans would enjoy.

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

TSOA is a stunning Greek mythology retelling detailing the Trojan War from Patroclus' perspective. The novel features achingly beautiful prose, and as much as I love it, I am aware that it is definitely not for every Rooney fan. If you're looking for the direct, lucid style of writing that Rooney displays in her novels, TSOA isn't for you. TSOA is slow-paced and the narration is lyrical, dazzling, and often emotional.

What TSOA does have in common with Rooney is that it centers on a romantic relationship and a particular dedication between two characters. They make mistakes, fate and family members try to get in their way, but the couple are constantly drawn to each other. It's magnetic. If you enjoyed the intimacy of Rooney's works, and don't mind a slower-paced, lyrical change, this is a great option.

Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata

Convenience Store Woman is a sort of weird but striking novel that I wasn't convinced, at first, that I liked, but months down the line I found myself still thinking about it. Set in Japan, the novel follows Keiko, a convenience store worker who finds comfort in the straightforward rules of her workspace. She is happy in her role except for the constant judgments and pressures from her peers to search for something "better". She is also happy being single and living in a small apartment, except for the comments and questions from her friends and family. Throughout the story, Keiko struggles to find a way to maintain the lifestyle she enjoys without becoming socially unacceptable. The boundaries of Korean society collide with the life Keiko has in mind as Murata explores the definitions of success and happiness and whether there is any chance of creating harmony between personal happiness and societal expectation when that harmony fails to come naturally.

In Convenience Store Woman the reader is almost hyper-aware of Keiko's emotions and thoughts, which might be appealing if you enjoy the character personalities of Rooney's novels. Additionally, if you appreciate the social commentary that Rooney shares through her stories, Convenience Store Woman is worth a read.

How to Order the Universe by María José Ferrada

I read How to Order the Universe in the limbo of a train ride, in one sitting, cover to cover on my way to New York City.

Set in Chile, a young girl referred to as M joins her dad during his work as a traveling salesman. We see the world around them slowly shift as both M and her country grow and change, and eventually we see M's hindsight reckoning with her upbringing as she ventures into adulthood. It's a coming of age story that involves rumination on familial relationships, politics, and culture. If these are aspects of Sally Rooney's novels that you like, then you may enjoy How to Order the Universe as well. Ferrada doesn't speak quite as directly about politics as Rooney does—from what I remember it isn't actually discussed by the characters—but the political state of the country is deeply ingrained into the setting of the novel and is experienced through the eyes of a child growing up in that setting. It's also a short read, and great as a traveling companion.

Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 by Cho Nam-Joo

Fictional but heavily based on the author's own experiences in Korea, Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 details a woman's everyday battles with sexism, misogyny, and mental health. I think of this novel as an exposé of a cultural cover-up of the issues women face on a regular basis. The writing felt a bit rushed to me, although maybe that's intentional given how overworked and drained the protagonist feels. It's very much worth a read though, especially for fans of Conversations with Friends and those who appreciate the way women's issues are portrayed in Rooney's novels in general.

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo has more of a pop-fiction feel than Rooney's literary fiction, with a mystery edge to it as the fictional Old Hollywood starlet Evelyn Hugo slowly reveals her secrets to the reader. It's definitely more plot-based than, say, Normal People. If you're a "no plot just vibes" type, this isn't for you, but if you like a good plot-line with a few twists and turns, this is a great change of pace! Why I think it could work for Sally Rooney fans is that it gives the reader a close look at a specific character, her life philosophies, and her relationships, which are all key facets of Rooney's novels. It also discusses sexuality and how the labels attached to it affect the characters. If you're looking for something entertaining that keeps you on the edge of your seat, this is a good pick.

Ok! That's it for part one. I have some really exciting recommendations in part two, hopefully up before Christmas so that you have more gift options for all the Sally Rooney fans in your life (especially you). I'll post it under the #sally rooney tag on my page when it's ready. Thanks for reading! ✨

[bagog]

Outober - Found Family

When I first started this blog back in 2015, I had very recently come out to about half my family. In a lot of ways, joining tumblr is what I did instead of whatever self-destructive else I wanted to be doing.

Since then, in October, I try to write slapdash little essays about coming out and being out.

I haven't written one in a long time, not just because I've not been on tumblr as often, but also because... I've been out for a while, now. I don't have the immediate experience of coming out anymore--not in the big-ways, anyway. So I sort of thought that I probably shouldn't comment about it anymore.

But maybe I have a few more things to say to those just in the closet and those just out of it. I want to talk about found family.

I know this is one of those phrases that's sort of... all over, now. I'm not going to define the term beyond its own denotation because the definition of 'family' is such a fluid one. You have to supply your own definition. That will make it harder to talk about, yes, but I want to just put forth my observation and leave it to you to see if it applies to you, hm? M'kay.

Queer Youth

Long before I knew I was gay, I knew I was different. I can't say that my connections to boys or girls were fundamentally different than that of my other classmates who ended up straight. But something felt off from a very early age. I think queer people start to realize they are not matching the growing-up program correctly long before they can actually point to queerness as the cause.

I felt this in my family, too. Youngest of my siblings, I had a really firm idea of how I was supposed to grow up, I'd watched my sibs go through it. I didn't know I liked boys, but I knew there were certain things I just couldn't talk about with anybody--especially not my family.

Part of being in my family meant that I could not be gay. So as I grew up and realized, first, that I was not into girls the same way other boys seemed to be, and second, that I was into boys. Shit. I was confident I had the mental fortitude to shake that and live a life with a wife and a family and my parents' blessing and approval. Being gay was quite literally the worst thing they could imagine a human being could do, short of outright murder. This is not hyperbole, this was an explicit statement.

When my family said "We love you", I heard, "We love you so long as you're not gay."

Queer Imagination

They could not imagine one of their wonderful Christian sons could be gay, it was the furthest thing from their minds. They had never even considered what it would mean to try to love a son who is gay. They just had no conception.

I don't interact with my family anymore, and mostly that is my choice. My parents still claim to love me, though they unequivocally condemn me: they believe the best way to love me is to constantly urge me to repent. This is the best they can conceive of "family" with me in it. So I removed myself from it.

They just had no other conception. Neither did I, not of what family was supposed to be. The queer imagination is a powerful thing. We imagine over and over how our family will react when we come out. We imagine--or try!--a world where we fit in. We've asked ourselves questions and imagined whole other worlds because you sort of have to in order to come to grips with your own queerness: there's not as many models of that in the popular consciousness.

But that imagination was flawed, because ultimately I could only build futures with the blocks I had. I look back now at my time with my family, feeling that splinter of otherness lodged beneath every good and otherwise loving memory. What I imagined, even up to a few years ago, was those memories, that happiness, with the splinter removed. That seemed the best I could imagine. It's a subtractive way of looking at life: the good life would be basically my life, with all the bad parts subtracted.

Found Family

I found something else with my found family. It's not just that they accept my sexual identity, not as if the only difference between them and my blood family is that there is no splinter in our interactions. These people understand me. These people love me unequivocally.

I have MORE life with them, I have an additive way of looking at the world. They've brought things into my life I could not have imagined with the tools I was given growing up.

This is supposed to be an essay where I break down what that means, but honestly it is so ineffable and magical to me, the best I can do is to say that my found family love me not because we are linked by circumstance and proximity, but because that love energizes them. I love them, and I want to love them more.

Maybe this is old hat for people with pretty welcoming families. It was new for me. So if you look at your family and you feel like there is a splinter between you and them, I just want to suggest that out there in the world there may be a family who will show you all new kinds of love, and teach you how to grow in it.

All the best!

[cleaning-has-its-benefits]

Lately I’ve thinking of a fic idea I had, which I wasn’t really sure I would actually write someday. I guess I would call it’s status as “unlikely I will write this” rather than “I’ll never write this.” But I felt like talking about it so heck it.

It would have been a pre-canon fic from Kel’s pov. It didn’t have a title and the summary would have been “Kel’s thoughts regarding hanahaki.” As you might guess, it was a hanahaki au, although the way hanahaki works would have differed from the standard. There’s probably a name for it but I’m not too knowledgeable in hanahaki variations.

Cw for emetophobia.

So, here hanahaki is a non-lethal sickness, but it’s severity varies greatly from person to person, depending on the exact cause. The cause can be related to unrequired love, but said love doesn’t necessarily have to be romantic, it can be platonic or familial too. But in general, the cause of hanahaki is bottled up or unresolved feelings, not necessarily about love. So here, all the group suffers from hanahaki to various degrees.

Well, since this was mostly a monologue, there wasn’t that much plot. But it would have taken place during recess at school. Kel there would think about how hanahaki is rather common among students his age, and he wonders about what could have happened to them to end up with hanahaki. Considering his own experience, he find saddening how widespread it is. It’s probably a normal occurrence to find bloody petals (or full flowers) in the bathroom. Maybe sometimes he looks at the lower grades and feels certain nostalgia for the time when he was little and didn’t have to grown accustomed to living with the sensation of petals in the lungs. Although it’s not like children are strangers to the sickness.

For as long as he’s known them, Aubrey and Basil have always suffered from hanahaki. Maybe this sickness is the reason why they both bonded before meting the others. It wouldn’t be until his teenage years when Kel would actually grasp the implications of that, and sometimes he wishes he could have been more understanding at the time. Now though, Basil avoids him (and everybody, really) like the plague and Aubrey doesn’t want to know anything about him, so Kel thinks he cannot do much.

There might or might not been a plot point regarding Kel’s hanahaki affecting his practice in basketball, due to it making it more difficult to breathe or causing pain during intense physical activity, but him not being deterred by it. However, I think I needed to do research to actually point how hanahaki is treated in the sports world, so this is mostly a loose idea there.

If this reads as somewhat messy is because this fic didn’t get beyond the brainstorming phase, so maybe I should stop trying to give some order, and I’ll admit I thought more about the world than Kel’s thoughts regarding it. So now I’ll mention how the main group is affected.

Starting with Kel, he has a mild severity. This means that in the current time he just coughs petals like once or twice per day, although at times they can be bloody. He contracted the sickness on the day of his 13th birthday, when it truly hit him all his friends had… left him? Kel’s hanahaki comes from this uncertain status of the friendgroup. They never officially end their friendship, they just sorta… stopped talking and spending time. This lack of closure and longing is the cause. Even if at first it was shocking and confusing for him, overtime it has gotten milder and milder (though in the beginning it was really distressing, specially because he didn’t really understand his very messy emotions.) It’s expected that with more time, Kel’s hanahaki will cure on it’s own, but he has hopes that one day it will cure when he’s reunited with his friends once again.

Hero’s hanahaki started sometime after he snapped at Kel. Before, it wasn’t anyone’s guess how he felt. He expressed pretty clearly how devastated he was, so he wasn’t ‘bottleing it up’ and thus I think it makes sense if he didn’t suffer from hanahaki during his long-year seclusion. After it, though, he threw himself into a lot of work to keep himself busy and not think much about it. He didn’t want to worry his family, so he became more closed-off and tried to solve his feelings on his own. His hanahaki would also be considered mild, but is more severe than Kel’s, but Hero hides it better. The main cause is the guilt, that he tries to work on his own, that he “should have” helped Mari. Maybe it could get cured if he accepted he was fifteen and he simply didn’t know, but that’s a really difficult thing for him. Though I think he also feels guilty for leaving the others on their own and not taking his role as the older brother of the group. I think in general he blames himself for a lot of things. After the talk at the tree-stump, his symptoms would lessen considerably. He maybe feels he’s finally doing what he should have done four years ago.

Aubrey’s hanahaki started at a young age, due to her familial problems. If this fic was from her point of view, I think it would have been really angsty, imagine if her parents made her hide her sickness to keep their reputation. That would be messed up! But anyways, in her teenage years, her hanahaki has gotten worse. The cause it’s still her family issues, which have only gotten worse, but there’s also her unresolved feelings regarding her former friends. She misses them, but she isn’t willing to admit it. There was a scene I had thought of, where Aubrey is at Kim’s mother’s house, throwing up in the bathroom in the middle of the night. She’s not alone, however, Kim is there to accompany and help her, like by keeping her hair out of the way and rubbing her back. Probably Aubrey has a bit internalized what her parents told her, to hide her sickness, so her letting someone her help is a sign of great trust.

Like Aubrey, Basil’s hanahaki started when he was small, due to his absent parents. Although since he had his grandmother, his sickness was milder than Aubrey’s, and maybe he was a bit more open about it than her, or at least his grandmother didn’t make him feel like it was something he had to be ashamed of. After Mari’s death, though, his hanahaki would become very severe. Hiding the secret implied hiding many things, but what made his sickness to worsen so much was the feeling of not being able to be honest with anyone. Basil couldn’t talk about what tormented him so much, because no one could know, and since no one knows what he went through, then no one can understand what he feels… except one person. Basil’s hanahaki would probably be the closest to the standard hanahaki. There was an scene of Basil that was to parallel Aubrey’s, where he throws up in his bathroom in the middle of the night, though in his case he’s alone and trying to keep quiet, to not wake up Polly or his grandmother. While Aubrey uses the sink (because the flowers would clog the toilet), Basil uses the bathtub, since there he has more space to throw up whole flowers, and also can lie down a bit. In the scene, he would be doing that, pressing the side of his face against the bathtub’s border and trying to rest a bit. There’s a flower stuck in his mouth but at first he’s too exhausted to do anything about it. After a while, though, he reaches for it and pulls out a flower with a stem as long as his arm, and roots the same size, then he places it with the rest of the bloody flowers in the bathtub. He looks at the mess, although I didn’t decide if he sobs at it or if he looks indifferent. Either way, he knows he has to clean that up before he can go to bed, but all he can think about is how tired he is and how much he wants to sleep.

Sunny’s hanahaki started after Mari’s death and out of everyone in the group it is the most severe, although this isn’t obvious at first glance. Sunny coughs up bloody petals while he sleeps, and with just that it would seem his case is a mild one. However, that just means all the flowers are stuck at his lungs, and he feels a lot of pain, constantly is out of breath and even little exercise can be dangerous for him. He doesn’t give himself many chances to let them out, though in moments of high stress, such as the phobia fights, are when the lid is lifted and sometimes he doesn’t even get to the bathroom before throwing up in a rather violent way. Sometimes this can happen in the middle of a battle, so it is really stressful for him. I was going to think about how hanahaki affects headspace when I remembered this was supposed to be a Kel-centric fic and thus I didn’t really have room for that. As for the cause of Sunny’s hanahaki… where to even begin! At least I guess in the true ending it would be cured? Or at least get way less severe?

I might have include how hanahaki had been treated/viewed historically and culturally, maybe leaning towards it being encouraged to be hidden, but I wasn’t really sure about this.

Going back to Kel, the fic would have ended with Cris and Jay calling Kel to hang out with them. Turns out the reason why Kel was at recess doing nothing for like 2-3k words is because he was waiting for them, so he goes with them rather joyfully. This fic’s tone was to be more bittersweet than angst, maybe with Kel being mostly nostalgic, so I though ending it on a happy note would help with it. Or idk.

I was really torn between taking this seriously (in the sense of making a finished fic of it) or not, so I was going back and forth between adding it to my list of wips or leaving it as just a fun idea to think about. But since I still have a lot of wips, then I was leaning more towards the second option. Writing it here is a way of registering it and so it doesn’t get lost in memory, which I was a bit sad about. So yeah.

I almost forgot to add, this was inspired by a post I read a long time ago but I can't find it :(

I'll link it here if I find it again.