#did I make this instead of finishing the dozen other works I’ve left half completed??

[s-darling-art]

Walk him like a dog 😜😜

[pascalmode]

In The Stars (3 - The Inner Circle)

Guys I’m learning how to work tumblr (I have a taglist now, let me know if you want to be added to it;)). The love that I got in the last chapter makes me so BEYOND happy, and I’m grateful that people are giving both me and Asteria a chance. ily. Let me know what you think of this one:)

Az x TOG!OC

Words: 3k

Warnings: none, i think. Will az finally make an appearance in this extreme slowburn fic? who knows? i do. hehe.

Also posted on my ao3 (fortheloveofstark)

In a place dubbed the Night Court, Asteria had been surprised to see the sun rise in the morning. 

She hadn’t slept, so when the sun peered over the triad of mountains on the horizon, the female tracked its entire path upwards, unable to get her mind to quiet long enough to rest. 

Asteria can’t ignore what she’d left behind; Her brothers, the Realm she’d been deeply connected to since the day she was born over three and a half centuries ago, her entire way of being, and a war. 

She’d helped to start a war, and now it’s raging on without her. The Realm she called home, and called her dearest friend, would suffer the damages of it without Asteria there to heal it. Instead, a strange realm, a strange court, needs her help. And the Realm refuses her. 

Asteria had sent her magic through the house and channeled it down to the earth again, gritting her teeth from the effort as she did. She only has a small fragment of her magic left, a bottomed out, shallow well of power that she feels confined in. 

Feeling the bottom of it in a strange place made her want to break everything in the room, and even so, she reached out, and the Realm didn’t even dignify her with a response.

There was only silence. 

With a dagger in her chest Maeve had called Asteria the most powerful full blooded female on the planet. But she was wrong. Asteria was the most powerful fae of the Realm. Nothing and no one else compared. Her magic knew no limit. Her well of power had no end. By exiling her, sending her to her death, Maeve had changed the course of the war completely and turned it to be in her favor. 

The thoughts about the Fae Queen made Asteria restless, and she paced across the room she’d been provided so fervently that she’s surprised she didn’t put a rut in the floor. 

That’s how Rhysand finds her in the morning, knocking before he enters; dressed in a wondrous black shirt, jacket, and pants. 

“I take that you slept well,” Rhysand says, a brow raised and a feline smirk adorning his features, eyes tracking Asteria as she continues to pace, unwavered by the High Lord’s entrance. 

Asteria spares him an unimpressed glance, “I slept for seven days, Rhysand, I’ve rested enough.”

“Well then I guess I can’t ask if the bed was to your liking.”

“I’m sure it’s great.”

“What about the room?”

Asteria huffs, “It’s fine. Thank you.”

If she wasn’t in the middle of a downwards spiral about her own power and the fact that she’s stranded in a strange Realm, she would have told the High Lord that the room is the most luxurious thing she’s ever been provided. Asteria had been utterly speechless when she’d first seen it, taking in the silk of the sheets and the closet full of garments for her to wear. The blades she had on her person when she fell had been on the dresser, freshly polished and sharpened.

When she had been hiding some of her daggers and smaller blades around the room, the house had made a meal appear out of nothing, and when Asteria finished it, the plates and cutlery had vanished. 

Now, she has her beloved broadsword, a dangerous onyx blade that she’d named Querencia, strapped to her hip, a dagger sheathed on the opposite thigh, and Asteria had dressed herself in black pants and a navy blue tunic, both items found in the grand closet amongst others like them, as well as at least three dozen different gowns. 

She’d been sure to pull on her brown leather gloves as well, hiding what lay beneath.

“The inner circle is here, waiting in the office to meet you,” Rhysand says, hands clasped behind his back, “There are some things to discuss first.”

Asteria allows her pacing to slow, raising a brow to the High Lord, silently urging him to continue. 

“I think we should hide the fact that you aren’t from this world.”

Asteria’s pacing stops, and she slowly nods, folding her arms over her chest, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you are not the Realm Reader,” Rhysand explains, “Instead, you’re a seer, sent here on my request from Miryam and Drakon.”

“You want to withhold the truth.”

“I think it’s for the best. The idea of the existence of other Realms outside of ours is a frightening one,” Rhysand says, “One that has the potential to cause panic, and an existential crisis like the one you’re having.”

Asteria huffs a breath through her nose, a fraction of a laugh, “I’m not in crisis.”

“So the pacing was you being calm?”

“How about you get stabbed in the chest and exiled from your home after helping to start a war,” Asteria counters, “Let’s see how you react.”

“I imagine I’d handle it with my usual charisma.”

“And the deception of whoever you encounter?” The female adds. 

Rhysand sighs, “Asteria, I-”

“You’ve been in my head,” Asteria says, cutting off the High Lord and stepping closer to him, “You’ve seen my life, and you know that I’ve spent nearly every day of my immortal existence with someone else holding my tongue. So I don’t really care if your people have a crisis over who I am, or where I’m from. I won’t deceive them. I won’t lie. And if you want my help, you’ll tell them the truth too.”

Rhysand stares at the female, those night-filled violet eyes piercing her with something she can’t place when there’s a timid knock at the door. 

The door opens, and in walks a blue eyed, golden brown haired female that Asteria immediately recognizes from Rhysand’s memories.

Feyre Archeron, the High Lady of the Night Court. 

The Female eyes her mate, suspicion in her gaze as she moves towards the pair in the room. Asteria knows they speak in each other’s minds often, having felt it when she walked through Rhysand’s mind. She has no doubt they’re doing it now. 

After a moment, Rhysand’s lips quirk up in a devilish smile at whatever Feyre has communicated, and he turns back to the silver-haired female, “Asteria, this wonderous female is Feyre, my mate and the High Lady of the Night Court. Feyre, I present to you, our disturbance from the night of the solstice.”

“Rhys,” Feyre scolds, slapping the High Lord’s arm.

His smile grows, his hand finding his Mate’s back, “This is Asteria Relridaar. The Realm Reader of Erilea.”

Asteria eyes Rhysand, finally able to place how he stared at her before Feyre entered the room. 

He was looking at her with admiration. 

“It’s a pleasure, Feyre,” Asteria says, lips quirked up in a small smile as she bows her head slightly. 

The High Lady smiles, and Asteria decides she likes her immediately, “Don’t let Rhysand push you around,” Feyre says, “He’s more bark than bite.”

“You would know my bite, Feyre Darling,” Rhysand smirks, earning an elbow in his side and a stern glare from his wife. 

Asteria huffs out a small chuckle, she definitely likes the High Lady. 

Feyre takes a step closer to Asteria, her smile nothing but welcoming, and the silver haired female notes that they’re roughly the same height, “Are you ready to meet everyone?”

Asteria nods, looking to Rhysand as he says, “No lies.”

“No lies,” The female responds.

Following the High Lord and Lady into the hallway, Asteria lets her eyes wander across the walls, noting high quality, detailed paintings that she makes a mental note to look at closer once the meeting is over. Her pace doesn’t falter, though, and when they turn a corner and reach a set of elegant double doors of dark oak, Rhysand swings them open easily. 

Inside, Cassian stands near a expansive book shelf, flipping through a thick tome, Mor, the blonde female that Asteria had nearly sent through a wall, lounges on a beautifully crafted couch with a goblet of wine in hand, and beside her, another female with dark hair and a set of menacing eyes. 

Upon their entrance, the conversation in the room stops, and Cassian snaps his book closed with a satisfying clap.

“I see most of you are on time,” Rhysand greets, “An achievement on its own. Where’s our dear Shadowsinger?”

“Following up with a friend of his near the boarder,” Cassian dismisses, shelving the tome and crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Rhysand chuckles, turning to Asteria and beckoning her closer with a lazy wave of his hand, “No sense in keeping secrets. Our Spymaster is in a meeting a spy of his, I’m sure he’ll be with us soon.”

Asteria nods, stepping closer to the High Lord and his confident grin, watching as the females rise from the couch they’d been lounging on. 

Rhys gestures to the shorter of the pair, “This is Amren, our second in command.”

Asteria looks over the raven haired female, and doesn’t quite know what she sees. By sight, she’s standing before a fae, much like Asteria herself, but there’s something else. The way she holds herself, narrows her eyes and tilts her head as if trying to deduce things on her own, is different. Older. Both primal and ancient at the same time.

“You’re different,” Amren observes, making no effort of discretion while she scans over Asteria’s muscle packed form, blood red lips held in a knowing smirk. 

Asteria quirks a brow, “So are you.”

With nothing else said, Amren saunters back to the couch, sitting down and starting to run her fingers over the massive rubies that lay on a chain around her neck, her stare sending a shiver over Asteria’s spine. 

What she is, or what she once was, Asteria isn’t sure that she wants to know. 

Luckily the blonde steps forward, holding her wine and extending another goblet towards Asteria. She takes it, holding it carefully in one hand with a grateful nod.

“This is my cousin, Morrigan,” Rhysand introduces, “Third in command and overseer of our courts.”

“I’m also the one you landed a mean kick on yesterday,” The blonde says with a kind smile, clinking her glass against the one she’d handed Asteria, “You’re forgiven, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

Asteria raises her glass in sync with the female, sipping the decadently flavored wine in an attempt to avoid apologizing for her behavior. 

“And you should call me Mor,” The blonde adds, “Welcome to the Court.”

Asteria swallows, “Thank you,” She says with a meek smile.

Looking back to Rhysand, Asteria realizes there’s one last person in the room. One that she’d already introduced herself to. Huffing out a loud sigh as the General steps forward, Asteria raises her goblet and downs the rest of the wine, hearing both Mor and Feyre chuckling at her actions. 

“And I assume you remember the General of the Illyrian Armies, Cassian,” Rhysand says, clearly amused by the silver haired female.

“I’m glad you had your fun yesterday, because it will never happen again,” Cassian drawls, a confident smirk resting on his lips. 

Asteria lets out her own huff of air in response, remembering how fast she had the massive winged male pinned beneath her. The corners of her lips quirk up on their own, “You sure about that, General?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cassian says, jutting his head up in a challenging nod, “Brave enough for a rematch?”

“Are you?”

“While that does sound entertaining, and we’ll definitely be heading to the ring to see Cassian take yet another loss, we have some matters to discuss first,” Rhysand says, moving to lean on the edge of a grand wooden desk, “Now that you’ve met her, I ask that you brace yourselves for her introduction.”

Asteria clasps her hands behind her back, feeling a reassuring hand rest on her shoulder, turning to see Feyre beside her wearing a kind smile. 

The High Lady clears her throat, bringing the inner circle’s eyes to her, “This is Asteria Relridaar, and she fell from the stars the night of the Solstice.”

“The stars?” Cassian echoes, brows raised. 

Asteria nods, Feyre giving her arm an encouraging squeeze before the green eyed female continues, “I am not of this Realm. I was exiled from a place called Erilea, and I don’t know how it happened, but I landed here, in your Court.”

Morrigan is the next one to speak, “Why were you exiled?”

“Sorry, hold on,” Cassian interrupts when Asteria opens her mouth to speak, “Are we not going to acknowledge the existence of another Realm?”

Asteria looks towards Rhysand at the General’s panicked question, his gaze declaring; I told you so.

With a sigh, the green eyed female looks to Cassian, “There are an infinite number of other Realms,” Asteria says, goosebumps flooding over her arms beneath her tunic. She remembers the feeling when she was pushed, when she was falling. Before she’d passed out there were flashes of other places. Worlds with buildings that stretched high into the sky and bright lights, others filled with with only ocean and civilizations beneath its surface, and some with no life at all. But then her eyes closed, and she was met with nothing but darkness. 

Then she landed in Prythian, and she considered herself lucky. 

“Travel between them, however, is impossible unless an extreme amount of magic is used,” Asteria continues, “That much magic is only accessible by one being in that Realm, usually-”

“A Realm Reader,” Amren finishes, fingers still tinkling with the gems on her necklace, “You’re a Realm Reader, aren’t you?”

Asteria nods, “Yes,” Seeing the question on both Mor and Cassian’s face, the silver haired female takes another breath, “A Realm Reader has a deep connection with their Realm, and is able to access its well of magic as well as their own. Realm magic is endless and capable of anything, including opening the door between worlds.”

Mor nods slowly, “And that’s what you did?”

“That’s what I was forced to do,” Asteria confirms, “When I was young I swore a blood oath to a cruel, and wicked Queen. She controlled every aspect of my life for nearly three and a half centuries, two of those centuries she made my every move, every breath, a living hell. It took those two centuries for me to summon enough magic to shatter the blood oath on my own. And when I did, I ran.

“I followed a friend of mine to a different part of the continent and entered the service of a long lost heir with a mission I believed in. She wanted a better world. I fought beside her, and called her a friend when the Queen sent her forces after us, and we started a war in the Realm. The Queen had an armada engage us at sea, and when we made it to the beach, she was there. She had a member of our Court hostage, and brothers of mine still bound to her through the blood oath. I couldn’t fight her because she had that leverage over me.

“I handed her the dagger she stabbed into my chest, and when she ordered me to open the door between worlds, I refused. But she had my brothers. So I forced all the magic I had into the Realm and when I opened the portal she pushed me through. I was the most powerful fae Erilea had ever seen, and the Queen knew she’d lose the war if I opposed her, so she wiped me off the board completely. I was supposed to fall through worlds until I died, but instead I ended up here, in a Realm that apparently needs healing, with a sliver of the magic I had before. 

“I wasn’t exiled for my actions, or as punishment. I was exiled because I was seen as a threat,” Asteria finishes. Behind her back, her hands shake, one holding the other’s wrist, and that fist clenched violently. Her story is nothing but a story. She isn’t the hero, or the villain. She isn’t sure what her place in it even is. 

That’s why she shakes. 

She knows all the eyes in the room are on her, and that they had hung onto her every word. They’d heard her, and she didn’t realize how afraid she was that they’d turn her away completely until they nodded in understanding.

“Asteria is under the protection of our Court while she tries to heal the realm,” Feyre says, making Asteria turn to her, seeing blue eyes lined with tears, “And after, if you want to stay, we’d be honored to have you.”

Unclasping her hands, Asteria reaches out her still-shaking hand, taking the High Lady’s and squeezing it, voice breaking as she whispers, “Thank you.”

“I sent word to the Summer Court for permission to work on the land, until then, we just need to know what we can do for you, Asteria,” Rhysand explains, his tone low, as if testing Asteria’s very wellbeing after her confessions. 

“To be honest with you, I don’t know that there’s anything you can do until we can get to the battlegrounds,” Asteria shrugs, releasing Feyre’s hand and speaking directly to the High Lord, “It’s up to me, and me alone to gain the Realm’s trust.”

Rhysand nods, processing the silver-haired female’s words, and she can see him mulling it over when Cassian claps loudly, making Asteria raise a brow to him. 

The winged General takes a step forward, “In the meantime, you owe me a rematch, Realm Reader.”

Asteria can’t help herself, giving Cassian a loud bark of laughter, “You’re on, General.”

Just then, the doors to the office creak open, and close with a quiet snick, the room feeling a little darker than it had just moments ago. 

“You’re just in time,” Rhysand cheerfully greets, “This is Asteria, she’s about to put Cassian on his ass for the second time.”

There’s a deep, throaty chuckle, a foreign voice sending an involuntary shiver down Asteria’s spine, “I look forward to it.”

Rhysand’s smile grows, “Asteria, meet Azriel, the Spymaster and Shadowsinger of the Night Court.”

And when she turns, Asteria is met with the most devastatingly beautiful male she’s ever seen.

-----

Taglist:

@bionic-donut @hollyismentallyillhelp @younxii

[butwhyduh]

Sex pollen

Bruce Wayne x Reader

Beginning Dick Tim Jason

Okay we’re going to suspend reality (like the comics) and he’s going to be like 35. I can’t imagine a relationship with anyone older. So yeah, Dick is like 25 and Bruce is 35. That math won’t work unless Bruce adopted him 17 seconds after turning 18 but we’ll ignore that.

Warning: smut. It’s on sex pollen so there is a dub con warning despite the fact that they are willing participants.

Summary: all of the batboys are dusted with Poison Ivy’s sex toxin and think they’ve taken an antidote. It didn’t quite work. This is the story about what happens to Bruce.

You saw Bruce in front of the bay computer. The usual. He was running a chemical analysis an biting his lip. He had taken off his cowl and black hair stuck to his neck with sweat. He didn’t look injured in any way so it must be a good night.

Bruce sighed and stretched his neck as you walked over to him. His brow were creased as always. Alfred was running inventory on the supplies.

You placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder and he inhaled quickly causing you to jump.

“Sorry! It’s just me,” you said quickly.

“It’s okay. I’m just a little distracted,” he said looking up at you. You ran a hand through his messy hair. He leaned into your touch before turning his chair towards you. You bent down to give him a quick kiss but Bruce did two things. He grasped your chin to hold you still so he could slide his tongue in your mouth and his other hand, that you thought was going to your hair, instead grasped your breast. You pulled away quickly.

“What has gotten into you?” You asked before noting a tingling sensation in your lips. Bruce pulled you by the hips to straddle him in the chair. “Bruce, Alfred is right there,” you hissed but you didn’t move to get off.

“Perhaps, sir, I can continue the chemical analysis and you may retire to bed for the evening,” Alfred said from across the room. He too knew the antidote hadn’t worked.

“Good idea,” Bruce said standing while holding your thighs. He carried you upstairs while staring at you intensely, kissing you every once in a while. He kicked the door to the master bedroom open with his foot and you gasped. Why was that hot? He’s destroying property. Bruce carefully sat you on the bed.

“I’ve been dosed with sex pollen. I should probably go next door,” he growled while panting. He wouldn’t look at you. You could see he had barely contained the urge to touch you. But you too were wanting him.

“Bruce,” you said and he turned to look at you. The blue in his eyes was now almost overtaken by black. You too were panting. “Don’t leave. I want you,” you said and that was it. Bruce grasped the side of your face and kissed you roughly. His hands roamed your body.

Bruce pulled away suddenly. “I shouldn’t,” he breathed.

“You should,” you answered and he pushed you to the bed. His hands shoved up your shirt and flung it across the room. He roughly pushed open your bra to attack your breasts. He nipped and bit at your skin, surely leaving marks all over your flesh.

“Bruce,” you breathed as he took a nipple in his mouth and sucked. Your back arched and you held his head in one hand. He moved over to do the same to the other side. His mouth moved lower to kiss down your stomach to your hips. He pulled your pants down and nipped at the skin of your inner thigh, probably leaving a hickey. You were overwhelmed by his attack on your body.

Just as you thought you were in control of yourself, he licked a long strip up your folds and you moaned loudly. Bruce gripped your thighs to pull himself closer as he licked you thoroughly. Your hand reached and grabbed his hair. His tongue slipped inside you as his nose rubbed against your clit. You couldn’t help but make noises far louder than you usually would. He didn’t live alone.

“Fuck Bruce! There,” you whined. He hummed and continued. You yanked on his hair to keep him in a certain spot. You whimpered out his name on repeat as you came. He didn’t wait for you to come down for him to push down his own pants. He roughly thrust in without any warning. You gripped his shoulders and gasped.

Bruce was usually so gentle, like you were breakable. This was new and exciting. His hips snapped against yours roughly in a pretty quick rhythm. You felt yourself being pushed up the bed and the headboard made a banging noise.

Usually you were far more quiet. He was the father to half a dozen kids that were often home and a full time butler. Plus Bruce was a quite discreet guy anyways. That wasn’t what was happening right now. You tried to hold your sounds back to no avail as he rushed you to an orgasm. You were right on the edge when he fucking bit your shoulder.

“Fuck!” You yelped before cumming. You could feel his rhythm slip as he found his own high. Instead of pulling out like normal, he ran his hands along your body while looking you over before starting to move again.

“Actually,” he said, pulling out. “Flip over,” he said and you rolled on your stomach. He pulled your hips up just enough for him to slide his dick in. He slowly thrust before grinding against you so fucking deep. His pace was almost lazy but rough. Bruce’s body weight leaned over you and he kissed and licked the back of your neck and shoulders. He let out deep grunts on thrusts.

There was a knock at the door that Bruce completely ignored and kept his pace. You weren’t too concerned either. The knocking became more insistent.

“Master Bruce, I have the antidote you both need. Urgently. I will set the tray by the door. Please take them,” Alfred said before moving on.

Bruce didn’t respond but sped up, leaving nips and bites along your shoulder and back. You felt yourself close again and urged him on by reaching back to pull him hip closer. You moaned and he growled as you both finished. Before you could move, Bruce pulled out and moved to the door. He quickly grabbed the tray and downed one grey vial before sitting it on the end table.

His hands went directly between your legs where you continued laying on your stomach to finger you. Bruce grabbed the vial with the other hand and poured it in your mouth. He continued his fingers in your over sensitive core until you clenched around him crying out as you came again. He slowed his fingers before pulling out.

You laid on the bed feeling just about boneless. He sat on the edge of the bed panting before standing up.

“What are you doing?” You asked. Was he really leaving after all that?

“I’ve got to help Alfred,” he answered. “All the boys got dosed. They’ll need antidotes too. I wasn’t... I wasn’t too rough was I?” He asked looking you over guiltily. He noticed the beginnings of hickeys on your neck and shoulder but nothing more.

“No. That was great actually,” you admitted. He raised an eyebrow. You flushed and smiled shyly. “A little rougher than usual isn’t a bad thing.”

He sat silently for a second before his lips formed a tiny smirk. “I’ll remember that next time.”

Bruce went down to the bat cave feeling half past dead. Nothing new for him but for a little different reason. Alfred was working on something.

“Thank you,” Bruce said clearing his throat.

“No. You can go back upstairs. All of the boys and their partners have recieved cures. Though... you might want to talk to Master Timothy in the morning. He was at Wayne Enterprise,” Alfred said, always delicate.

“Oh god. What did he do?” Bruce asked pinching his eyebrow.

“Nothing that can’t wait until the morning. As far as I know, nothing worth a lawsuit or worse. Go back to Y/n, Bruce. She probably feels quite slighted after your affair,” Alfred said going back to his work. “I’m cleaning up and then off to bed. I suggest you do the same.”

Bruce didn’t bother answering but leapt upstairs quickly. Alfred was right. You were probably upset he left. He burst in the room and you jumped from by the shower door.

“What’s wrong,” you asked, bracing for the worse.

“Nothing. Sorry. Do you want to share?” He asked.

“Of course Bruce. Come on,” you said rolling your eyes. You turned on the hot water and you both climbed in. Bruce looked over your body as the water soothed your skin. Little marks littered your chest and back. He frowned as he took in red bite marks on your back. What had he done?

“I’m sorry,” he said tracing his fingers across your skin. “I was far too rough.”

“It was the pollen. Don’t worry about it. I’m fine,” you said turning in his arms to look up at him. You gently kissed his lips before pulling back. You grabbed the shampoo and Bruce scrubbed the soap in your hair.

“Tomorrow we will deal with this. Tonight, we’re going to sleep,” you said and he hummed in agreement. He was a step about dead on his feet and when his head hit the pillow and he wrapped you in a cuddle, Bruce was asleep. You quickly followed.

[icefire149]

30! Deancas, its cold so cas insists on a scarf instead of his tie

Char I'm so sorry this took a million years to write. Work and life kept me extremely busy, and then this lovely fic kept going in a different direction (which seems like a theme in every prompt I tackled). I really hope you enjoy this one, and have a lovely day :D

#30 - I love you mumbled into a scarf

Dean had his head buried so deep in thought about the impala’s winter maintenance that he almost missed the familiar foot steps breezing past in the garage. His eyebrows pressed together as he pulled his head out of the car. “Cas, buddy, where are you going?”

Cas stopped dead in his tracks, and turned on his heels. “Oh, Dean.” His gaze nervously glanced around the garage. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Are you okay?” Dean leaned against the side of the impala now, and crossed his arms. “You look kinda spooked.”

Cas’ gaze flitted around the car. “Do you happen to have Jack with you?”

“Nah,” Dean answered, scratching the back of his neck. “He went on a grocery run with Sam about a half hour ago.”

“Oh,” Cas exhaled, and visibly relaxed some. “That’s good. He’ll enjoy that greatly.”

“Did you need him?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“No.”

Dean walked around the car and stopped closer to Cas. “I’m gonna need more than that. What’s up?”

“I need to go Christmas shopping.”

Shaking his head slowly, Dean blinked. “Are….are we celebrating Christmas this year?”

“I’d like to,” Castiel confessed. “I know you and Sam have your own traditions and this is your home, but I’d like to give Jack his first Christmas since….last year he wasn’t here.”

“Oh.” The word tumbled out of Dean’s mouth. He was going to need time to process every verbal hit Cas pummeled him with. In a daze, he pointed at the impala with his thumb. “Do you want a ride?”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Cas answered genuinely surprised. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He was still sorting Cas’ words when he found himself opening the impala’s door.

The angel slid into the front passenger seat, and they were off in the direction of the nearest shopping mall. It wasn’t until they hit their second red light that something finally clicked into place in his brain. “Is that why you tend to disappear around the holidays?” Turning, he kept his eyes on Cas long enough to see the twist in his expression.

“Maintaining customs, holiday traditions in this case are incredibly important to humans. I didn’t want to overstep or interfere.”

“You do realize I leave probably a dozen voice mails the closer it gets to Christmas, right?”

“Yeah, it’s quite irritating having my phone going off so often when I’m trying not to take from your time with Sam.”

“Cas,” Dean said exasperatedly. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, but the blaring honk of the car behind him momentarily cut off his train of thought. When traffic settled so did Dean, “I already get enough of Sammy, and I’m sure he’s more than sick of me too, especially around the holidays.”

“Oh.”

“And yeah, I’ve been wanting you to join us….since forever. Seriously.”

“I’m sorry.”

There was a pained tone in his voice that startled Dean down to his core. He shivered involuntarily. Glancing over at Cas, he saw that the angel had his eyes glued out the window. It bothered Dean not being able to pin down what was bothering Cas. It felt like so much more was hidden in that apology.

Turning back to the road, Dean reached a hand out blindly until it connected with the sleeve of Cas’ coat. “There’s nothing to be that upset about, your heart was in the right place.”

Cas didn’t respond, and Dean didn’t loosen his grip. Instead, he tightened it, but spoke with a note of levity. “And how many times do I gotta tell you that the bunker is your home too?”

“Once more, perhaps?”

Dean could feel the constriction in his chest loosen at the faint smile he could hear in Cas’ voice. He shook his head. “Giving Jack a real first Christmas is a great idea. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it months ago.”

“I think we’ve all been a bit too preoccupied.”

“Yeah.” Dean withdrew his hand and turned the car down the nearest exit. “You’re not wrong.” Basically since Jack was born they’ve been non-stop busy. The past few months in particular were miserable, for all of them.

“I know things aren’t one hundred percent safe with Michael still out there,” Cas started. “But I’m glad that you’ll be home for Christmas. I fear I would’ve ruined Jack’s holiday if you weren’t here.”

“Nah,” Dean argued, feeling his eyebrows pinch together. “My presence shouldn’t make that much of a difference.”

“Dean.” He could feel the angel’s stare sliding under his skin. “I left Jack with Sam so I could chase every whisper, blade, bullet, and trap that might lead to you. And from what I’ve gathered, Sam did much of the same passing Jack off on whoever was willing to keep an eye on him. That wasn’t fair to him, and I’m not proud of my behavior.”

“Hey,” Dean tried cutting through Cas’ frustration with himself. “You had no idea what Sam was gonna do.”

“Jack was never meant to be Sam’s responsibility. I-”

“You did the best you could at the time.” Cas didn’t answer, and Dean couldn’t risk taking his eyes off of traffic in that moment. “I mean it, and besides we’re well past that tunnel now. And we’re gonna give Jack a real Christmas.”

“Thank you.”

Dean hummed in response, and spotted what he was looking for: the sign for the mall. “Don’t tell Sammy, but-” He glanced at Cas’ curious expression. “since we found the bunker, I’ve always wanted to make it look like Christmas threw up all over the place.”

And to Dean’s genuine surprise, Cas laughed. It was happy and light, and when Dean turned for a heartbeat, the image of Cas with his head tilted back was branded into his memory. The corner of his mouth curled into a grin. “After growing up watching every Christmas special imaginable as a replacement for actually celebrating the holiday normally...I think it’s like making up for lost time if we go overboard.”

Another hearty laugh rocked Cas. “Makes logical sense to me.”

“Besides the kid will get a massive kick out of it.”

“I hope so,” Cas muttered, as the car came to a stop in the parking space.

“Oh trust me, he will,” Dean said throwing an arm behind the back of his seat and turning to face the angel. “Soooo….where to first?”

Cas observed their surroundings before letting his stare rest on Dean. “I’m not sure.”

“Well we can just check out whichever store is closest and work our way around. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Cas smiled softly.

Dean’s hand rested on the door handle, but the movement next to him made him pause. He watched Cas dig a hand into his jacket pockets until he pulled out a long, dark blue scarf. “Traded the tie out for a new accessory?”

The angel snapped his hands to his chest in order to hold the scarf tightly. “It’s new,” he said defensively.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Dean grinned. “Did you go out of your way to buy something the same exact shade as your favorite tie?”

Cas’ eyes trailed down to the fabric between his fingers. “Maybe,” he answered after a short, meditative pause.

“It’s nice,” Dean said pushing his door open. “I was wondering where the tie was today.” He got out of the car and Cas quickly followed him on the other side.

Cas hooked the scarf behind his neck. “It felt redundant.” His expression quickly twisted in frustration as his hands failed to wrap the scarf in a way that would be comfortable.

“Need some help, buddy?”

The angel’s gaze pierced him like a knife, but that didn’t stop Dean from circling around the impala to stop directly in front of Cas. He held his hands out. “Just let….”

Cas’ hands fell to his sides, and the frustration slowly smoothed out of his face. His gaze locked onto Dean’s.

“-me help.” Dean started wrapping the scarf properly so Cas could duck the lower half of his face out of the chilly, winter air whenever he wanted.

There was something magnetic in Cas’ demeanor. As it circled and grew in his eyes, it filled Dean with a soft warmth that drew him a step closer. His skin burned, but on his brother’s life he couldn’t remember in that moment why he would normally never let himself get this close.

Dean could feel the puffs of Cas’ breath caressing his face, sending goosebumps across every inch of his skin. Despite this, he reached forward and finished laying and puffing the scarf up.

The apples of the angel’s cheek’s appeared pinker when Dean’s gaze slid up from the blue fabric that was still caught between his fingers. Cas’ bottom lip twitched for a second, and then he sunk his face into the scarf.

Thoughts slid back into Dean’s head. Louder than ever. The tips of his fingers clung a little tighter to the scarf. This feeling wasn’t new. Everything that had to do with Castiel, it was like a Gordian Knot. There was too much to sort and untangle. The fragile thing they had was too important to him to destroy completely. The solution was simple and staring him in the face, but he’d been teetering on that decision for a decade now.

Before he could move, a simple vibration resounded up his fingertips. And before Dean could ask what the angel had said, Cas broke the moment.

His hands slowly and shakily unhooked Dean’s grip, lowering them. The scarf slid down Cas’ face as he momentarily glanced around the parking lot. Dean quickly forgot about the brief indescribable look in the angel’s stare, when a glimpse of Cas’ teeth caught his eye.

The tension eased in Cas’ shoulders. He released Dean’s hands with a widening smile. “Let’s go. I’m not sure what would be suitable for a Christmas tree. Any ideas?”

“Yeah,” Dean grinned, losing himself in this new moment. “We’ll have to go elsewhere and grab your truck, but I have several ideas.”

The prompt was from this list. I'm not expecting any more prompts from this one, but if there's one you really want me to try please ask! (and specify the prompt list).

[redrobin-detective]

Delayed Mourning

Going Angst Day 5: Death

_________________________________________

It was 3pm when there was a knock on Maddie Fenton’s door. She huffed and set down the meal she’d been working on. Of course the one day she had time to pre-plan a nice meal from her family was the day she’d get interrupted. 

“Yes? May I help you?” Maddie asked, opening the door. She had expected a salesman. Possibly even a neighbor coming to complain, again, about the noise or the smells that came from Fentonworks. Instead she found a small woman who couldn’t have been much taller than 5 ft with dark brown hair tied up in a tight bun. She was wearing a sharp white shirt and suit jacket with a matching white skirt.

“Mrs. Fenton, hello,” the woman gave a polite little head nod. “I’m from the the Government Institute of Interdimensional Warfare though I hear the locals like to call us the Guys in White.” She said with a knowing smiling, “of course, as you know, it’s not only the guys who are interested in ghosts. May I come in?”

“Oh yes, hello,” Maddie blinked, opening the door to let the agent in. The petite woman stepped inside, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Her small frame, her oversized glasses and soft nature seemed so at odds with the meatheads Maddie usually found in the GIW. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Perhaps,” the agent demurred. “It’s more there was something I wanted to inform you of. If you’re not too busy, may we sit down and talk? Your husband and children are not home.” Maddie thought that last statement was a bit odd, framed as a statement of fact rather than an inquiry but moved on. 

“Yes, Jack’s out of town visiting a relative and my kids won’t be back for a little while,” Maddie said. “Let me just finish putting this roast together, I’m almost done. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?”

“No, thank you,” The woman said quietly. “And please, continue while you’re doing. Let me give you a little bit of background.” The agent adjusted her large glasses with her tiny hands. “Let me introduce myself, you may call me Agent S. I work primarily out of Washington for the Institute but sometimes I am deployed on site for... special cases. And, as I’m sure you’re aware, your town is very special.”

“Now, as you may have noticed, I am not particularly built like the normal Institute agents you have probably come across. That is because I do not work in the field but behind the scene in Investigations. My job is study the history and happenings of hauntings and spectral entities.”

“Oh that sounds fascinating,” Maddie beamed as she finished with her final preps and put the roast in the over. She looked over her shoulder at Agent S while she washed her hands. “Jack and I dabble a bit in history and folklore but we’re more versed in the hard sciences of ghosts.”

“Yes, I’ve read some of your papers, you and your husband truly are the frontrunners in the field,” Agent S nodded. Maddie preened at the praise and sat down, delighted to have a sophisticated conversation with someone in her field who she wasn’t married to. If more of those GIW agents were like Agent S then Maddie would get along a lot better with them. “So, Maddie, may I call you Maddie? What date and time did your portal start working?”

“It was August 28th,” Maddie said proudly. “It didn’t work at first when we first plugged it in. I’m afraid I don’t have an exact time it started up as we weren’t here. Jack was convinced one of the electrical conduction pieces wasn’t fully connected and was preventing ectoplasmic distribution. We ended up driving 4 hours to Springfield and back for some specialty parts only to find the portal working when we returned.”

“I can help you there,” Agent S said with a soft smile reaching into her white briefcase and pulling out several thick folders. She laid them out gently on the table and Maddie was unnerved by some of the information: schematics of Fentonworks, past and present financial records, transcripts of public statements. Her shoulders tensed when she saw Jazz and Danny’s names on some of the files. “Toll camera captured your vehicle on the Jane Addams Memorial Tollway at exactly 1:26pm on August 28th. We can confirm you and your husband’s vehicle traveled to Springfield and back via video feeds and credit card statements at 10:45pm that same day and were therefore out of the city all day.”

Maddie suddenly felt very trapped by the woman’s sharp grey eyes as she plucked a piece of paper and pressed it towards Maddie. 

“At 3:18pm, the majority of the residential power in town went out for a period of 2 and a half hours. The cause was determined to be from a massive power surge that blew out the transformer. You may recall being blamed for this outage given your history with previous outages but the news that you were out of town settled that argument. However, I was not convinced.” She pulled out another piece of paper and Maddie bristled to see it was a Casper High attendance sheet.

“Your daughter, Jasmine was at her final summer cram session which ran from 2pm until 5pm. I spoke to her tutors and she never left the whole time and, in fact, stayed late to help a fellow student work through her study materials. But what about your son?” Agent S asked with with a curious smile but her eyes belied the fact that she had her own answers. 

“How dare you spy on my family, on my children,” Maddie hissed, crumpling one of the papers in her fist. “Get out of my house, I will sue the pants off of your organization for this invasion of privacy! Get out!”

“Now Maddie, don’t you want to know how your son started up your Portal?” Agent S asked coyly, that drew Maddie up short. Danny? No, he couldn’t have possibly. He had no interest in their work, in fact, now that she thought about it, Danny had been sick that day. Agent S pulled out a set of blueprints for the Fenton Portal. Some small component inside the Portal was circled.

“You left at approximately 1pm and your daughter presumably left not long after. Phone records indicate Daniel called both Tucker Foley and Samantha Manson. Your neighbor, Mrs. Benson, saw them coming into your house not long after but before the 3pm power outage which I was able to triangulate did in fact originate from your home.” Agent S tapped the circled part of the inner portal mechanisms. “Now did you happen to push the on button in the Portal before plugging it in?”

“On button?” Maddie asked with a dry mouth, overwhelmed by the amount of information being thrown her way. All she could think about was how Danny hadn’t seemed sick when they’d left that afternoon but had looked awful when they returned. Would he have really gone downstairs and messed with the Portal? Had he gotten hurt? Been contaminated down there? Images of Vlad’s sickly visage after his accident flowed through her head. She should have paid more attention but she’d been so excited about the Portal working...

“It’s right here in the blueprints you submitted to the patent office, buried under dozens of other hardware bits. Its small, such a little thing compared to all the moving parts required to open up a dimensional portal. Daniel was a bright boy, his middle school records prove it. A bright mind, friends to impress, no parents around to chastise him... I think you can see where I’m going with this.”

“No, no,” Maddie said, burying her hands in her hair. “No, I’m not. You’re saying -what? - that my teenage son turned on the Portal when we were gone? No, my Danny wouldn’t lie to me about that... Why wouldn’t he say anything?”

“I don’t blame him for not mentioned in because, if my hunch is correct, he was inside the Portal when it turned on, killing him instantly,” Agent S said with a carefully neutral face. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news but I’m afraid this haunting has gone on long enough.”

“My child is alive!” Maddie screeched, standing up in her chair. “Danny is alive and healthy and he is not a ghost!”

“I will admit the evidence of how he died is circumstantial but the fact that Danny Fenton is deceased is not.” Maddie fell back into her chair as he legs gave out underneath her. 

She watched the agent put paper after paper in front of her and detailed all sorts of data about her son that Maddie, who lived in the same house as him, had missed. Unusually high ectosignatures picked up by GIW (and their own) detectors, Danny being spotted in some form before most ghost attacks, faked signatures of hers getting him out of nurses’ visits. Maddie barely felt alive herself as she stared at a red light camera photo of her baby sitting atop a light post late, late at night. His eyes were a toxic green color.

“I know this must be distressing as a mother but your child never left that basement, never attended high school and will never achieve his dream of working for NASA.” Agent S said with carefully measured sympathy as she gathered up her papers and put them back in her case. “But you are a brilliant scientist, unlike your husband, you should be able to look past your emotions and see that your child is gone and the ghost he left behind is dangerous.”

“My husband?” Maddie asked blankly, running a finger down Danny’s unnatural photograph.

“I approached Jack two days ago, mistakenly believing he would be the most understanding of you both. He refused to believe the evidence and was, in fact, going to warn your son’s ghost that we planned on taking him. He is safe but he presently being held at one of our facilities until the capture is complete.” Maddie should feel outraged at her husband’s kidnapping but all she could think about was the fact that her son was dead, dead, dead, killed by her own invention over a year ago and she never noticed. How could she not have noticed?

“Daniel’s ghost is extraordinary, not only able to pass as human so accurately for so long but immensely powerful. We need to make sure he doesn’t harm anyone else. Think of his friends who are probably being forced to aid him and keep his death quiet. Think of your husband, your daughter, living in the same house as a dangerous ghost.” Agent S dropped some of her professionalism and plucked the photo of Danny out of Maddie’s hands and replaced it with her own tiny hand. 

“I know this is impossible thing to ask but I must do it anyway, will you help me capture what remains of Danny? There is a chance with his charade exposed, he will be able to move on and so will you. You have been wronged, Maddie. You have been denied the right to process and grieve your child by his own ghost. But a delayed mourning is better than none. Danny’s death is a tragedy but please don’t let it become someone else’s.”

“Maybe he’s not-” Maddie’s breath hitched, “he’s never shown any signs of aggression. Jasmine spoke of benevolent spirits... maybe-” Agent S sighed roughly and retracted her hand to grab another photo from her case. Maddie was surprised when she held up a picture of Phantom. 

“Ignore the glow,” Agent S instructed. “Change his white hair to black, his green eyes to blue. Think of how often Phantom is spotted in your neighborhood, around Casper High. Remember how he always has his hands on your technology,” the agent frowned. “Think of how he grins when he sees you, like he knows something you don’t. Like it all just a big joke you’re not a part of.” Maddie felt like she’d been slapped.

“Your son is dead,” Agent S said more forcefully, throwing the picture of Phantom next to the spooky one of Danny. “And his ghost has taken his place, taunting you, stealing energy from your family, from the portal that killed him. Phantom’s power is increasing too rapidly and soon we won’t be able to contain him. It’s why I was brought in to identify his haunt so that he could be stopped before anyone else died.”

“I will state this plainly, I am giving you the chance to participate in putting your child to rest but you are not required for this operation. If you refuse, you will be confined with your husband until Phantom is taken down. Do not let this monster with your son’s face trick you any more. So I ask again, Maddie Fenton, will you help us stop Phantom from making a mockery of your son’s memory?”

XxX

“Mom! Jazz! I’m home!” Danny announced, kicking off his shoes and grabbing a paper out of his backpack as he walked into the kitchen with a grin. “And I have a present! Jazz’s tutoring paid off, look at this A I got on my history test! Well A- but a solid A-!” 

“Oh... that’s great,” Mom muttered quietly. She was sitting at the kitchen table, not cooking or tinkering with some gadget. Just sitting there quietly, twiddling her thumbs and not looking at him.

“Is everyone okay?” Danny asked, dropping his bag on the floor and walking over to his mother. “I saw Jazz at school but is Dad okay?”

“No, everything is not okay,” she said turning and looking at him with tear-filled eyes. “Someone died, someone I love dearly and I’m not ready to let them go,” she sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “But they've been gone for a long time, even if I’m just hearing about it now. I’m upset but it’s better to know and be grieve than to go on in ignorance, living a lie.”

Danny was about to ask who had died when something was jammed into his neck and he was shocked within an inch of his half life. His body spasmed to escape but his mother was gripping his arm to hold him in place. He transformed unconsciously but that only made it worse. He fell to the floor, ectoplasm leaking off his form as he could barely hold himself together.

“Mom,” he croaked, reaching for her despite everything. She stomped on his hand which was practically goo from such a vicious, destabilizing ectoplasmic shock.

“Don’t you ever call me that,” she hissed through angry tears. “I didn’t want to believe it but the proof is right in front of me you horrible, selfish ghost.” She kicked him in the side and half of him ended up on her boot. “How dare you, how dare you impersonate my son! How dare you string me along all this time, make me look like a fool who had to told that her own child was dead! I bet you just laughed and laughed at our stupid, human ignorance of what your were!”

“‘lease,” he begged through the ectoplasm in his mouth. “I’m still your....”

“My son is dead and he has been for a while,” Mom said, throwing the ecto-taser away from her. Danny vaguely heard the door being kicked in and in his rapidly diminishing vision, he saw black boots and white suits. “With you gone, I can finally come to terms with it and not be tormented by an inadequate replacement.” She turned her back to him. “Get that filth out of my house, I never want to see it again.”

“Of course,” a quiet feminine voice said as his goopy arms were restrained with ghost proof cuffs. “I know this is hard, Maddie but you made the right choice for your family and Danny’s memory. Jack will returned to you within the hour. I spoke to my superiors, for your cooperation, the Institute will take care of declaring Danny dead as well as covering costs for your boy to be laid to rest, the first step in moving on.”

“No, the first step will be removing that duplicitous monster from my home. It’s stolen enough of my baby’s life. Now please leave, I have - I have a funeral to plan.”

[cultivating-wildflowers]

Books of 2022 - May

Upended all my reading plans again because I agreed to judge books from another round of this contest I signed up for. It’s fine.

Technically for this round I was signed up for ebooks instead of audio but.... They gave me five books and about four weeks and I had to do something to get it done in time*. So when I found a few of the books on Hoopla audio I snatched them up. It’s all good. (And it’s not like I was asked to judge presentation/quality of print/any of that stuff because they’re ebooks after all. We’re fine.)

It kind of went downhill from there.... Started a ton of books, reread some favorites, glumly cycled through a bevvy of subpar books I quickly DNF’d.... Fun times. I’m closing out the month with several books half-finished.

I also started Dracula alongside what appears to be fully half of Tumblr, so I’ll be reading that in bits and pieces through November, eyyyy.

*Yes yes I asked. I volunteered. That changes nothing.

Total books: 6 |  New reads: 4   |   2022 TBR completed: 2 (2 DNF) / 11/22 total   |   2022 Reading Goal: 40/60

April | June

#1 - Secret Contest Book #4 (Sci-Fi) - 3/5 stars (audio)

We’re gonna call this one “lackluster”. It had a lot of intriguing elements, but the execution left a lot to be desired. Unremarkable characters, uncompelling story, decent world-building. This is not the first book I’ve read by this author, but it does cement the fact that her writing is not for me. (And it felt like fantasy, not sci-fi.)

ONE thing it does have in its favor: the main character is handed a gun for safety purposes and is IMMEDIATELY and concisely instructed on basic gun safety. Props to the author for that!

#2 - Operation Grendel  by Daniel Schwabauer - 5/5 stars (audio)

This is the book I mentioned near the beginning of the month where I was vague on the plot but didn’t care because it was so engrossing.

And it held up through to the end! A solid, immersive military-leaning sci-fi adventure with a splendid balance of action, drama, and humor. No frills, no overblown world-building, just adventure and explosions and the fate of worlds hanging in the balance. I recommended it to a friend before I’d reached the quarter mark.

And THEN I got to the twist near the end and recommended it to about five other people. A delightful read.

#3 - Secret Contest Book #7 (Sci-Fi) - 5/5 stars (audio)

AHHHHHHHHH. I LOVED THIS ONE.

Space. A 20-something main character. CATS. Giant bugs. The ever classic “what makes us human?” theme coupled with “what makes me worthy of love?”. Good, good, excellent characters. Subtle, natural world-building. Even a touch of a murder mystery! So much to love.

I did not have high hopes for this one and it blew me away. I laughed, I cried.... It moved me, Bob.

#4 - The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison - 5/5 stars (reread)

This is one of those books I read, knew I liked but couldn’t say why, and left to simmer in the back of my brain. It is also evidence for either 1) the benefit of rereading, 2) the fact that some books are better enjoyed in print rather than audio form, 3) or both; because while I know I enjoyed it before, it felt like a different and (somehow) better book this time around, after the love and exuberance on my Tumblr dash drove me to a reread.

I grabbed a physical copy from my library and...promptly read like half a dozen other books first. As one does. But once I finally got to it, I worked through it pretty quickly.

It’s such a soft book, all things considered. It’s a rich book with surprising depth. It has soul, y’know?

And I still can’t articulate exactly why I like it. I need to get a copy of my own.

#5 - Lycanthropy and Other Chronic Illnesses by Kristen O’Neal - 4/5 stars (audio)

One of y’all on here liveblogged your read of this book and it looked fun, so I picked up the audio to get me through some yard work during the holiday. It was a fun, quirky read; a nice change from the denser books I’ve been slogging through all month. It kept a good pace and there was an excellent balance between comedy and...not quite horror? But darker stuff. If I’m gonna read paranormal, this is more my speed than the usual fare.

The audiobook worked and I’m familiar with the narrator, but there’s something about translating online chats and text messages to audio that is tricky and jarring.

#6 - The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien - 5/5 stars (reread)

“This book will be the bulk of my May reading” I wrote under a picture of my complete Lord of the Rings volume, way back at the end of April.

Like an idiot.

Now here I am at the end of May and guess how much I’ve read. Just this one, and just barely.

I don’t really have coherent thoughts, and it’s not like I need them; LOTR is part of the culture psyche. I love it; that is all.

DNF:

Secret Contest Book #5 - Cliche cliche cliche YA dystopia. It has been a while since I’ve read a dystopian book (I think the last true dystopian I read may have been Scythe) and I don’t think it’s for me any more.

Secret Contest Book #6 - Boring. And theologically suspect.

Secret Contest Book #8 - Bland bland bland. Clumsy writing style, clumsier dialogue, uncompelling story and world. Just dull. Hate that it forced me to rate either of the others higher than it. That was just rude.

The Shadow Queen by C.J. Redwine (’22 TBR) - Half of the issue was I built up my expectations too much; the other half was that it simply was not my style at all. I gave up within the first chapter.

A Time to Die by Nadine Brandes (’22 TBR) - I’ve read one other of Brandes’s books and it was good enough that I added this one to my list. However, that other book (Fawkes) was a historical fantasy and this is a YA dystopian. I had bad luck with YA dystopians this month. It’s just so not my style and, while I LOVE the premise, I couldn’t force myself to suffer through. I absolutely skipped to the end to see the answer to the Question raised at the start.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 11

CLICK HERE IF YOU ARE A FIRST TIME READER

TW for this chapter: more mild smut. more memes. more hijinks and shenanigans. coffee make the brain go skrrrt. bruce fluff & thor being a good bro™. some1 is catching ✨feelings✨. Previous chapters in the link above the cover pic.

Beta reader is @miscmarvelwritings so don't be shy, give her a read. She's the PB to my jelly.

"I don't know about you..." Taylor Swift softly sang from the speakers.

"Bitch, I hope the fuck you do!" I shouted, tumbling into the kitchen with the grace of a giraffe on acid. The smell of coffee and fresh omelettes was mouthwatering. 

"You look… Good," Peter stared at me, his coffee mug frozen halfway to his mouth. The tone of his voice bore very little understanding of the situation he found himself in.

I didn't sleep that night, instead pursuing a scientific quest right after being finger-fucked by Tony Stark. I blame the suits - he had one partially disassembled not ten feet from the puddle my juices had made on the floor - and well, I never said I had a great attention span. One terrible, inappropriate joke had led us to smirking to each other from both sides of the suit as we brainstormed how to best modify it for impromptu bondage sessions. If Peter could have heard us go at it, he'd never set foot in Tony's lab ever again.

On my mighty quest to quench the thirst for knowledge, I completely neglected basic hygiene, so the me that rolled into the kitchen that morning still had yesterday's outfit consisting of fishnets and Tony's hoodie, possibly stained with cum and pussy juice. As a bonus feature, infamous raccoon eyes had made an appearance, courtesy of me rubbing my face multiple times throughout the night.

"I'm feeling my oats," I declared proudly, sitting down next to Peter, making grabby hands at the coffee machine.

"I'm tempted to ask..." Clint handed me the steaming hot dish full of holy bean juice. "But I think I'd rather not." Pointedly, he moved away from me, just enough to make it known he was wary.

"What just happened?" Stephen Strange blinked owlishly.

Boy was he a sight for sore eyes. The wizard wasn't Tony, of course, but his plain white tee left very little to imagination, pulled tight across his toned chest and lean arms. The grey sweats? Illegal. That's a bonk and a ticket to the horny jail for me.

"You didn't get to sleep? Again?" Peter asked, exasperated.

"Sleep who?" I chirped, feeling way too energetic for someone running on some illegal drugs and a single orgasm. It was easy to shrug off the concerned stares I kept getting from the adults and Pete since my already wacky attention span decided to quit it's job without notice.

"Guys, have you seen… oh, there she is!" Tony scrambled into the kitchen, holding his head. That manic look did nothing for his complexion, but then again, I'd take him even filthy and crippled. "Don't just disappear like that!" He snatched the half-empty coffee cup, downing it's remnants in one go and immediately going for a refill. "We didn't finish programming in the shibari function..." He mumbled, absentmindedly running a hand through his messy, greasy hair.

"I..." Peter was still frozen. "I'm not sure I, uh, follow."

"So, me and Tones had this absolutely BRILLIANT idea ..." I started, leaning back in my chair. "But the execution, as usual, needs more work."

"Yes, I can see you've been having ideas," Pete's sass was ignored by both me and Tony. The man was kind enough to clumsily plop a coffee cup in front of me as he was beelining for the fridge. "What are you trying to install? Shib-what?"

"You don't want to know, Pete, trust me," Clint made big eyes at me from across the room. "I'm scared of you," He added, pointing an accusative finger in my direction.

I gave him my best manic stare, probably overdid it by a wide margin. Barton shrunk back, slinking subtly behind Stephen who cleared his throat.

"So I've heard you had an incident yesterday," The doctor was looking at me with concern and pity. "Do you need to visit the medbay?"

About a dozen unsaid and very inappropriate responses later, I simply shook my head negative. My mouth was not to be trusted whilst I was so distracted. Plus, he was hot. I kind of tended to think with my vagina instead of my brain around hot people.

"Good morning," Wanda entered the room, stopping briefly at my side to give me a hug. "Ugh, finally," She muttered the words, looking first at me, then at Tony. 

I raised my eyebrow in a silent question and she just smiled, reaching for her own coffee cup.

Tony mercilessly towed me back to his lab once I polished off two omelettes and another cup of coffee - what would've been my fourth was snatched out by an amused Stephen, all stern and firm and magical, meaning he simply whooshed it out of existence as I was raising it to my mouth. He didn't appreciate my choice of expletives, either, none too fondly rolling his eyes and beginning a lecture on heart attacks. Whatever, Tony was my knight in shining armour and we left the kitchen quietly plotting our mechanical plots right over the annoying doctor's mumbling. 

There was quite a lot of delicate soldering involved in the gauntlets of the new suit. Having to construct and fix everything on the go proved to be harder than building a robot; even for Tony, the genius engineer himself. We had burned ourselves and nearly dislocated our wrists too many times to count. Thankfully Friday ran the calculations in the background, so we just did the manual labor part.

And coding. The pounding in my skull, the acid in my loins. My God, I hated coding during a hangover. Tony didn't fare any better and that was the best consolation, really. Despite the consumed caffeine, he passed out somewhere during the initial stage. I held out not much longer, barely catching myself as I was reclining against him on the very floor we were building on, scattered cups and tools and glowing holo-screens keeping us company. 

My sleep was deep but not deep enough to miss a pair of deep male voices contemplating how to best move mine and Tony's sleeping bodies somewhere more comfortable. The engineer was a cuddler, it turns out, and refused to unwind himself from my prone body, going as far as to kick one of the men - I later learned it was Thor who got a swift punt in the shins from Tony when the Asgardian and Banner attempted to untangle our combined limbs. In the end, they settled awkwardly piling me on top of Tony and Thor single-handedly carried us all the way to Tony's penthouse, depositing us in the absolutely magnificent fluffy, enormous bed.

The bed? I wanted one as soon as I landed on it.

The fishnets? They were beginning to cut into the soft parts of my body, causing an uncomfortable stinging and itching sensation whenever I moved.

"Bwucie," I slurred with my eyes shut, feeling the man rustling around with a blanket, tucking us in. He was just the sweetest scientist.

"Sorry, we tried not to wake you up. Go back to sleep, Princess," He whispered, leaning closer to my face. His breath tickled my hair.

"M'kay, jus' wanna get these off," I weakly pulled at the offending piece of clothing.

The man chuckled. "That looks uncomfortable," Before softly sliding his hands up my legs, hooking his fingers under the stretchy waistband and pulling them down. His hands were hot and soft; my moan was softer but he heard it nonetheless, hand briefly stilling on my thigh.

I snuggled deeper into Tony, rolling onto my side and unashamedly throwing a leg over his hips, happy to find his jeans were off, too.

It appeared that Tony's teammates had already developed some sort of care protocol for their resident mad scientists. Bruce's and Thor's actions had been executed with a practiced care and gentleness. The warm fuzzy feeling in my chest blossomed fully as Bruce once more tucked the blanket around me, tenderly patting me on the back and Tony on the shoulder.

"You'nThor, y'the best," I managed to wiggle out the words out of my muddled, uncooperative brain before returning back to the dreamland.

It felt like another ten minute nap when I woke up again. The lights in the room were off, the NYC skyline providing the illumination instead. Tony was still in bed with me, his breathing even and the quiet hum of the arc reactor steady under my ear. It was the first time I'd been close enough to him to hear the sound of it. 

Sleep slowly seeped out of my body, lead disappearing from my limbs. It seemed like I hadn't moved at all. Once my head cleared up, the confusion seeped in. I'd gone to second base with Tony and we did science and never spoke of it again. He didn't kiss me, didn't touch me more than usual - but didn't resist a good ole sleepy cuddle.

What now? I never thought I'd actually get this far. Some part of me - probably the same part that sent me on a romantic novel reading spree a couple of years ago - thought he'd wake up, confess his secret love and attraction for me and we'd seal it with a kiss. Yeah, no, that sounded disgustingly unrealistic even to my own ears. There was no way I would be kissing someone with this swamp I had going on in my mouth.

I wasn't actually that naïve. Why would a man like him pursue something serious with a girl like me? I was a child in his eyes. In fact, all of the Avengers minus Wanda and Bucky treated me like a child. I knew why and I still hated it. I've been taking care of myself in all the ways but financial for years, surely, they had to have noticed that. Teachers in school certainly did. Bruce did, to some extent, I had to admit begrudgingly. Even if his behaviour was really peculiar sometimes.

"Do I make a comfortable pillow, Princess?" A chuckle startled me out of my musings. Tony sounded relaxed and warm and cosy.

"Yeah," I answered honestly, tilting to see his face. He was giving me that lopsided smirk, the one he previously saved for science and Peter and Clint's baking ventures. Something within me stirred, painfully tightening my chest, and I fought against it to preserve this memory like this - happy, carefree.

His thumb found it's way around me, tracing the line of my jaw with surprising tenderness. He was looking at me like I was made of glass. Like I was the most beautiful sculpture he'd ever seen.

I scrunched my nose when his finger found my lips. "I need a shower and a toothbrush," I declared, not knowing what else to do. All of this - the atmosphere, the shared comfort, the looks - it felt too intimate somehow. Having to be on full display of his intelligent, deep brown eyes was terrifying: I felt like crying one moment and laughing the next.

"I was having a moment here," Tony snorted indignantly but relented nonetheless, slowly pushing himself up in a sitting position. 

I admired his broad shoulders and the dips and valleys of his arms as he stretched; he caught me staring and winked, of course. I retaliated with skimming my fingertips under the hem of his tee, lightly scratching my nails over his defined abs, delighted with his shiver. 

"Behave," He sternly mouthed, following with a smile.

"Never," I smiled back, slipping into banter with comfortable familiarity.

He then led me to the huge walk-in shower, unashamedly stripping off his shirt and socks on the way. Boxers were the last, flying somewhere over my head. My hormones were a raging inferno, or, at least that's what I would have said if someone asked me why the 'loading' icon was hanging over my head as I stared at Tony's round, firm ass. I had to touch it. I absolutely had to touch it, at least once in my life. 

My dignity was saved by my own yawn. Tony's hands used the opportunity to slide his hoodie (RIP) over my head, exposing me to the cold air. I shivered in my lacy bra and panties until they were gone, too. My flaws stared back at me from the wall-length mirror and with the way Tony's hands gently settled over my stomach, another hand copping a feel of my breast, I couldn't bring myself to care.

"Beautiful, Princess," He simply said, having noticed the frown on my face.

"No, you," I automatically replied, smirking.

"Me? Nah," He shrugged nonchalantly, gesturing to his arc reactor. "Sexy, however... I'm definitely fucking hot," He leered, pressing his hips into mine with a knowing smirk.

I wiggled my butt, taking my time to turn around and face him. I saw right through the defenses he'd put up. The team didn't start calling me "girl version of Tony" without a reason - I knew we were quite similar in the less desirable character trait category. Impulsive, selfish. Defensive.

Angry red lines spanned across his chest, some faded, some raised. In the middle of it all, the arc reactor shone like a blue little sun in its metal framing. I traced around it, feeling the uneven skin, bumps and dips of it. "It keeps you alive. That's more than enough. For me," I placed a chaste kiss right in the middle of it. 

I wished he didn't have to have the thing. I wished he'd never had to go through what he went though in Afghanistan - for me, the press release I'd read was enough to get a grasp on the fact he was tortured and hurt and fucked up in there.

Stepping into the shower, I retreated from him, retreated from my feelings getting in the way and ruining the fun. The least I wanted to do was humiliate myself by crying out of... Out of what, pity? Lovesickness?

"I'm starting to see why everybody else thinks we might be related," Tony's chuckle sounded tired and slightly forced.

"I hope not," A moment to figure out what knob to turn and hot water rained down my body. Almost instantly, the tension in me melted away. "I'm not really into incest and shit."

"Ew," He walked under the stream, sighing agreeably. "But you're into bondage, so you've got that going on for you."

"Yep. Bondage and hot old dudes," I shrugged, reaching for the shampoo.

"I definitely qualify for all three," Tony promptly snatched the bottle out of my hands, standing behind me to do the tedious task of washing me. I allowed, guiltlessly enjoying the treatment. His dexterous fingers massaged my scalp, caressed my body. 

A moan slipped out of me at the glide of his hand across my nether regions.

"Tut-tut, Birdbrain is going to pitch a fit if we're late for dinner!"

"Fuck the Chicken," I announced petulantly, attempting to follow the motion of his hand with my hips. He held me firmly by my stomach, only succeeding in adding fuel to the fire within me. "Tony-y-y..."

"Nu-uh," He replied, but the smile hidden in my shoulder and the boner poking me in the hip gave him away.

"Sir?" I tried, getting a low groan in response. "Master? Owner? Daddy?" 

His breath stuttered at the last syllable, teeth closing none-too-gently around a patch of my skin. I felt a bruise bloom under his mouth, the delicious pull of it making me realize I'd be marked by Tony for days. A full-body shudder erupted from me at the thought. 

"You're trouble," He growled, grinding his own arousal into my ass. "Filthy, spoiled brat," Tony punctuated his words with another claiming bite on my shoulder blade. 

"I'm your trouble now," I smirked, relishing in all the attention my body was getting. The fingers that granted me sweet ecstasy at night a fresh memory in my mind, I relented my own urgent need in favour of repaying the man of my dreams for his troubles. 

One smirk and my knees rested comfortably on the strangely soft floor of the shower. I came face to face with Tony's hard cock. It stood proudly, the flushed tip of it dripping - with water or pre-come, I didn't know, but was eager to find out. 

"Fuck," Tony gasped, gazing down at me in astonishment as I tongued the slit of his cockhead. "You dirty little thing," He seemed to gather his wits quickly enough, bracing himself against the wall with one hand. 

He was just about to find out how dirty, I decided. There was something satisfying on a purely primal level, seeing a powerful man absolutely losing it with his dick in my mouth. Rapidly, I swallowed as much of him as I could. His girth throbbed. 

"Ruin me?" I popped off, resting my cheek against the hardness of it, tugging on his free hand to place it in my hair. My own arousal flared in response to his bewildered hunger.

Tony wasted no time in fisting a hand in my hair, carefully but firmly putting my mouth onto his cock. Inch after inch disappeared within my mouth; I was breathing through my nose as he slowly began fucking my mouth.

"Fuck, Jesus Christ, Princess, fuck," The mantra fell from his lips, echoing in the large room, mixing in with the water still pouring onto our bodies from above. The heat of it had nothing on the smouldering fire in my belly where it coiled tight and low. Tony's musk on my tongue, the firm hold on my hair. He truly held me, in body and in mind. There was nowhere else I'd rather be than on my knees for him.

I moaned around him causing a stutter in the moderate tempo. Our eyes met: his, wide and gleaming captured my own and I couldn't look away. With a wanton moan, Tony increased the pace, it quickly became brutal and punishing. I held onto his thighs for dear life, wordlessly pleading him to use my mouth for his own pleasure. 

And he took it, shamelessly, emptying himself into my mouth with a groan that nearly made me come untouched. It was beautiful and I swallowed every drop of him, refusing to let the evidence of his bliss go to waste. 

"Fuck," His voice was ragged. 

I rested my cheek against his thick thigh, catching my breath. "Good?" Just to quickly be pulled to my feet, trapped between his hot, wet body and the chilly tiles of the nearest wall. The shiver that ran through me was only partially caused by the sudden change in temperature.

"You did so good, you're my good girl," He mumbled against my lips, sliding his tongue into my mouth without any restraint. His other hand slid between my legs, immediately toying with my clit. That and the hastily spoken praise coupled with the feverish way he was licking himself out of my mouth sent me over the edge, until I was falling, stumbling head-first into an ecstatic abyss.

"Mmm... Tony," Dreamily, I savoured the moment.

"Oh, we're back to first name basis?" He snarked, finally turning off the water.

Pliant as ever, I followed him out of the shower and into his walk-in closet where he pointed at a row of t-shirts and hoodies. I grinned mischievously as I took my pick. "Daddy?"

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @softie-socks @sleep-i-ness @gigglyfox01 @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn

[quicksilversquared]

More than a Match

Felix Graham de Vanily is back in Paris for the summer, determined to make amends with his cousin. While standing in for Adrien at a photoshoot, he has to deal with a most disagreeable character by the name of Lila.

Unstoppable force, meet immovable object. There can only be one winner here, and Felix is not about to lose.

links in the reblog

Felix Graham de Vanily was more than a little apprehensive about returning to Paris for his mom's summer movie shoot, and for good reason.

The last time that he was in the city, he had caused no small amount of chaos. He had threatened his relationship with Adrien over a (in retrospect) petty, poorly-considered attempt at revenge- how badly their friendship had been damaged really remained to be seen- and gotten off on the wrong foot with all of Adrien's friends, which could make finding people to hang out with more than a little difficult. During that same revenge attempt, he had truly behaved poorly towards one of the city's superheroes, and he would have to try to apologize for it if he could get close to the superheroes again without endangering his life. On top of that, he had palmed his uncle's ring, which- well, was it really stealing when Mr. Agreste had gotten them through less-than-honest means in the first place?- with the full expectation that it would be at least a year before he and his mom returned to Paris, so his uncle might have simmered down by then.

It hadn't been anywhere near a full year yet. His uncle would no doubt still be furious about the retrieval of the ring, and so Felix had to be very careful with it.

Right now, that meant wearing the ring on a strong chain around his neck, hidden under his shirt. If he was going to be spending more than the odd minute here or there in the Agreste mansion, he and his mom might end up looking into getting a safe box for them to lock the ring up in, so that his uncle wouldn't steal it back.

"Don't let on that you're nervous," his mom coached as their train pulled into the Paris stop. "Be confident, don't react to questions about the rings. With a little luck, perhaps your uncle will assume that he misplaced it. Emilie always said that he would mess with his ring when he was designing and she was worried that he'd end up taking it off and misplacing it for good. He's already called me once demanding the ring back and I told him that we didn't have it and maybe he had just lost it."

Which meant that Felix could just act bored about the accusation instead of being surprised. That was useful information.

"I also got us an apartment that's a bit further outside of the city center," his mom continued after a moment. "Both to stay out of the way of the majority of the akuma attacks, and to give us some space from your uncle. We're near a subway line, though, so it'll be easy enough to go and visit."

Felix nodded. His mom had already mentioned that, and he knew that there was a third reason, too: apartments of a decent size close to the city center were expensive. Their family might be wealthy, but (largely due to his father's influence, Felix suspected) they still had never be people to throw money around without due consideration first. "But Uncle Gabriel won't bother to come out and bug us?"

"Of course not. When was the last time that he left that house of his? And if he does- well, I have no problems with kicking up a legal stink. Gabriel would do well to remember that the only reason he has connections to the Mayor's family is because of Emilie and I, so he has no advantage there." Amelie sniffed. "Not that he'll bother to remember that. If anyone asks him, I'm sure he would say that he worked himself up from nothing and made all of his connections himself with his superior bargaining skills."

"Ah, yes, the scowling and yelling and refusing to meet in person is very persuasive, I had forgotten."

Amelie laughed. "Yes, exactly. Emilie was the one who handled more of the PR and meetings with investors, really. If Gabriel had been trying to do it himself, he would have failed miserably." She shrugged, turning back to him with a large smile. "Don't let your uncle ruin your summer, Felix. He roars and rages a lot, but he's always been all bark and no bite."

Felix nodded, taking a steadying breath as the train came to a complete stop and they got up, reaching for their bags. "Right. Of course."

Somehow, he got the impression that that would be easier said than done.

  Really, it- it wasn't as terrible as Felix had thought. The summer had started out slowly- he had seen Adrien at dinner shortly after arriving in Paris, and then Felix had spent a week and a half entertaining himself while his mom started filming on the movie and his cousin finished up his school year.

It wasn't bad, really. He found a small bookstore that was cool and quiet, and he settled down there in a corner to read. It was nice and it was peaceful.

Alas, it was not to last. His mom expected that he would go hang out with Adrien, and so... Felix did. The first three times that he went over, the two of them simply hung out in Adrien's room for part of the day and played some of the video games that Adrien had around. His cousin seemed on high alert at first- Felix certainly noticed fewer things lying around his room, and there were several things with locks on them that hadn't had locks before- but willing enough to try again. By day three, their conversations were far more relaxed, and Adrien spent nearly an hour telling Felix about all of his friends. He wasn't bragging about having them, Felix could tell, but was just genuinely happy to have them and wanted to share that with him.

...unfortunately, Felix knew that it was more likely than not that a large number of Adrien's friends would not be very thrilled to meet him. He had not made a particularly good first impression, to say the least, and they- unlike Adrien- had not had any other interactions with him to go by. Felix didn't resent them for their judgement of him (after all, he rather deserved it, he could admit that much) but it would make meeting them a bit awkward, particularly if Adrien hadn't had a chance to mention how things were going now first.

Or if Felix hadn't done anything obvious to make amends for his earlier behavior. Thankfully, an opportunity to both put off the inevitable meeting and to make things up to Adrien properly practically fell in his lap after Nathalie scheduled a photoshoot right when Adrien was hoping to get together with his friends.

Or, rather, when Adrien had put a meet-up with his friends on his schedule and Nathalie deleted it last-minute to replace it with yet another photoshoot, because apparently she didn't know the meaning of fun. Or being nice, or kindness, or not being a terrible human being, really.

"Are- are you sure that you want to model, Felix? It's not exactly the most fun thing in the world."

Felix nodded resolutely, glancing towards his cousin's door and hoping that no one was eavesdropping on their conversation. "You want to be with your friends, and I would like to make a good impression this time around before meeting them anyway. It's no big deal. I can sit and make clothes look good for an hour or two."

At last, Adrien nodded in agreement. "I- okay, if you're sure. I'll text you the time and location, so you have it, and-"

"Won't your bodyguard be expecting to drive you there?"

Adrien paused. "...oh. Oh, yeah."

Felix tried not to sigh. Oh, yes was right. Clearly logistics weren't his cousin's strongest point.

"Well, I can ask him to bring me there early, so that I can have some time to relax in the park!" Adrien said after a moment's thought. "And then we can meet and swap outfits there- or I'll bring an extra, actually, it'll be less hassle. It'll be harder for me to get to Marinette's place from there, but I'll manage it. There's a bus line nearby that'll get me close enough."

"Your father actually lets you out enough for you to know how to take the bus?" Felix inquired, unable to help feeling a little incredulous. His cousin hadn't been allowed to walk to his collège, which was only a few mere blocks away, so he had assumed that his uncle had required use of the chauffeured car for all of his other travel. "Count me impressed."

A quick grin flashed across Adrien's face. "He doesn't let me out, exactly. I tend to sneak out. And then, of course, I need to know how to get where I'm going fast, or else I'll get picked up by the Gorilla right away before I have a proper chance of escape."

...that was just sad.

"Anyway, I should probably coach you if we're actually going to do this. You know, give you some pointers and all. Uh." Adrien twisted his ring around, glancing up at the ceiling as though that was going to help him any. "Um."

Felix rolled his eyes. "I hardly think that I'll need extensive coaching to be able to sit in front of a camera and pose."

"Yes, but-"

"Will I need to know several dozen poses to do in rapid-fire succession? I've heard that some models do that."

Adrien sighed. "No, Simon prefers to take more organic shots. I've been learning the fast poses on my own, in case I ever get a photographer who needs that or if I end up branching out and start modeling for catalogues instead of just ads, but Father prefers Simon's artistic vision. So he'll tell you what he wants in general, then give tweaks. Like, there's some moving my head around, maybe, but..." He trailed off, shrugging.

Well. If Felix actually needed any advice to pass off as Adrien during the photoshoot, he was pretty certain that he would be more or less out of luck. With advice like that, it would be a wonder if he wasn't left completely unprepared when he arrived.

"I've not had, like, professional training as a model or anything," Adrien added after a moment. "It's all been informal, which is maybe a bit unusual considering what father's like the rest of the time, but maybe it's good for publicity somehow or something." He shrugged, looking remarkably unbothered by the prospect of his father basing his decision on how to treat Adrien during photoshoots on what would sell best. "So just listen to Simon and don't forget to look towards the camera unless he tells you otherwise, and don't be too stiff but don't slouch, either, and-"

Felix tried not to sigh.

  "If- if Lila's there, just- ugh. Just don't agree to anything she says, and- well, she still tries to lie to me all the time, even though I know better than to trust anything she says. She loves manipulating people, so..."

Adrien's comment about his sometimes-coworker- probably the most intriguing and useful part of his "advice" for the photoshoot once he actually managed to think of something to say- ran through Felix's head as he arrived at the site for the photoshoot, a lovely little park in a less busy part of the city. This Lila character sounded like trouble, and he wasn't much interested in trouble. Or in being manipulated, for that matter.

How very fortunate, then, that Felix had more than a little experience with manipulation. He would be able to spot any attempts coming from a mile away. From what Felix could gather, this Lila person was a sloppy manipulator at best, relying on flashy stories and crocodile tears to keep her influence. They were things that would perhaps work in the short term but would wear off and become ineffective in the long run, particularly once people started picking up on inconsistencies. Eventually, things would backfire on her, and then she would be left alone and hated.

Felix preferred more subtle manipulation, and (unless he was not thinking clearly) only when a situation warranted it. A little nudge here and there to increase the odds of things going his way was rather different than Lila's graceless shoves to make everything go her way, to get the kind of popularity that Lila clearly wanted. His technique was sustainable- after all, infrequent manipulations were less likely to be picked up on- while hers was not.

His cousin hadn't really said much about Lila other than to mention that she might be there and to not fall for her lies, but Felix already disliked her.

"Felix! You got here all right, good!"

Felix pushed away his thoughts and smiled as Adrien ran up. He had a bag slung over his shoulder, presumably with an identical outfit to the one that he was wearing. "Yes, I've had sufficient down time to figure out the system. It wasn't hard to puzzle out."

"Oh, great." Adrien glanced around, clearly making sure that he wasn't being followed, and then passed his bag off to Felix after pulling a smaller bag out from inside of it. "I have an identical outfit in here. Are you good, or...?"

"I'll be fine," Felix assured him. "Go on, go hang out with your friends." He paused and considered Adrien. "Ah, are you going to wear a disguise or something? You know, in case anyone takes pictures of you and posts them?"

Adrien nodded, pulling- surprise, surprise- a baseball hat and a large pair of sunglasses out of his bag. "Yeah, this will work fine! There's plenty of guys in France with blond hair, so as long as my hair isn't visible and they can't see all of my face..."

Felix hoped, for Adrien's sake, that that actually somehow worked and he didn't run into any of his more fanatical fans. Maybe the most basic of disguises would work against most of the population, but there were a few weirdos who probably prided themselves on being able to identify his cousin with the smallest of clues.

"Anyway, hopefully it'll work," Adrien finished after a moment's pause. He glanced back at Felix. "Are you sure you're good?"

"Positive. Go."

Adrien went. Felix watched him for a minute, then made a beeline for the public restrooms building that he had seen earlier. He hated the idea of changing in it, truth be told, but he hardly had a choice.

...well, maybe he could have coordinated outfits with Adrien yesterday and only had to fiddle with his hairstyle at the park instead, but hindsight was 20/20.

Despite Felix's worries, the bathrooms weren't bad at all. He changed quickly and did a fast brushing of his hair into Adrien's hairstyle- it was a little difficult to account for the difference in their hair length in a few places, but he managed it well enough- before leaving the restroom and tracking down the plaza where the photoshoot would be taking place. It was a fairly basic set-up, honestly- a small trailer with the outfits to be worn in it, an equally small tent for changing, a couple chairs for touch-ups to makeup and hair with a screen nearby to block the wind. A few things for lighting and the photography equipment were scattered around, but otherwise it was incredibly minimal.

He had to wonder what normal shoots- ones that weren't solely for the boss's son- looked like. Surely not everything that Gabriel did was so low-budget.

"Ah, Adrien, you're on time- early, even!" A man with a camera hanging around his neck- Simon, Felix assumed- appeared behind him, clapping him on the shoulder and making Felix startle. He chuckled. "That's a nice change from the past couple shoots, hmm?"

Felix only nodded, not sure what to say. In all honesty, he hadn't been expecting the photoshoot's staff to be talking to him much, other than to issue directions for the shoot itself. If he had known that they were likely to be chatty, he would have asked Adrien more questions.

Thankfully, Simon seemed willing enough to move on, immediately turning to the job at hand. The first outfit that "Adrien" was supposed to wear was already in the tent, so if he could just go ahead and change so that they could get started...

Felix was more than willing to comply. The sooner they started, then maybe the sooner they would finish. And while Felix didn't exactly have anything else that he wanted to do- hanging out at his cousin's house while Adrien wasn't there didn't sound like fun, nor was he particularly interested in crashing Adrien's friends' get-together- it was hot outside and changing into a dozen different outfits in quick succession and getting poked and prodded at wasn't Felix's idea of a good time.

Three outfits in, and Felix noticed a girl lingering around the edges of the photoshoot area. She wasn't getting shooed off by security, which meant that it was incredibly likely that she was meant to be there. And sure enough, a minute later, the girl headed into the second half of the changing tent.

That must be the Lila that Adrien had warned him about. Felix had rather hoped that he would get lucky and not have to deal with the liar, but apparently luck wasn't on his side today.

Or was it? Felix gave that a minute's thought. He had been a bit bored thus far, and doing a bit of manipulative sparring might be just the thing to spice up his afternoon. Little Miss Terror wouldn't be expecting it- after all, Felix didn't doubt that Adrien's approach to Lila was rather on the tepid side- and it might be amusing to throw her off her game. Going too far might alert her to the fact that he wasn't actually Adrien, though, and she might tattle, so that added another level of complexity, another thing to think about.

He was so busy trying to figure out how strong he would want to come off that he completely missed Lila snaking up behind him until thin arms slid around him in an entirely unexpected (and unwelcome) hug.

"Adrien! I'm so happy that we get to work together again!" Lila cooed, leaning forward to try to press a kiss to Felix's cheek. She missed when he dodged, just enough to get out of her path but not so far that it would look obvious. Lila pouted, but didn't make more of a fuss. "Aren't you?"

"Mmhmm," Felix murmured noncommittally, disengaging himself from Lila's groping hold smoothly to step away and move into the next pose that Simon had wanted. Lila was forced to back off for the remainder of Felix's solo shots, and then he could escape into the tent to change while she did a few solo shots of her own.

And then came the duo shots, aka the absolute longest forty-five minutes of Felix's life.

(Well. Okay, maybe there had been some other instances when time had stretched out far longer, but as far as normal everyday situations went- well, then this ranked waaay up there.)

Things had gone smoothly when Felix was on his own. Despite never having done photoshoots before- or at least clothing photoshoots, he had posed for a few family portraits over the year- he had gotten the hang of it right away. He followed Simon's instructions with little need for further correction, and the photographer had been beaming.

With Lila added to the mix, though? All of that was completely shot. She was completely unprofessional, and quite handsy to boot. Felix managed to get away from her hands most of the time, dodging where he could and stepping smoothly away to make it look natural, but it was absolutely aggravating.

Thankfully, he got a bit of a reprieve when he loudly complained that she had wrinkled the sleeve of the light coat that he was modeling with her vice grip on his arm and she got scolded.

Unfortunately, that reprieve only lasted for five minutes before she was right back at it. She didn't hold on nearly as tight as before when he had longer sleeves on, sure, but other than that there was no real change. If anything, she was brushing her hands over his shoulders and arms more often than before.

Needless to say, by the time the last picture of the last set of clothes had been snapped, Felix was more than eager to be done, change back to his- well, Adrien's- normal clothes, and be rid of the Italian pest for good.

But Lila clearly had other ideas.

"Oh, I think we could pose for a few more minutes, don't you, Adrien?" Lila purred, fluttering her eyelashes at him. Felix could see where her fake eyelashes were starting to come detached. Clearly she had no idea how to apply them correctly, considering that they had been crooked to start with. "Maybe some, ah, closer poses? Oh! I know! Summer romance always sells, right?"

Felix raised an unimpressed eyebrow. Slick, she was not. Her attempts at manipulation couldn't be any more heavy-handed. Or more distasteful. "I'll pass on that, thanks."

Lila's pout grew. "You don't want to? I think it would be fun! I thought that we were friends." The last word was bitten out with a bit of an edge to it, an unspoken threat. Felix had no idea what it was meant to be.

Forget his cousin coaching him about modeling, clearly Felix had needed more insider info on how to interact with Adrien's friends and classmates.

"It is far too hot outside to be close to anyone," Felix countered tartly, refusing to let himself pause in the conversation. "We have a number of photos already. I see no need to risk heat stroke for more. Additionally, this is a clothes company, not a manufacturer of cheap romance novels, and there was nothing about summer romance in the shoot briefings."

Lila's eyes narrowed. Felix refused to back down.

"Adrien is right," Simon said, glancing over his notes. "And if the shoot goes much longer, we'll go into overtime, and Mr. Agreste hates that. It costs the company money, you know. So we're done for the day. Thank you for your work."

Felix murmured a quick thank-you in return. Lila looked as though she had maybe swallowed a lemon. Before she could recover and come up with a new ploy, Felix turned and strode off to the changing tent to switch back into Adrien's normal outfit as fast as he could.

He made sure to keep a suspicious eye out for any unusual ripples in the fabric of the tent. Felix didn't trust Lila to not try to sneak a peek of him changing. She seemed to have a complete lack of respect for normal boundaries and more than a slight fixation on him (or, rather, his cousin), so Felix wouldn't put it past her to try to look or even snap a picture.

A picture would probably be the more appealing option to Lila, if he was reading her right. Properly hidden so that no one else would discover that she had it, it would make valuable blackmail to get Adrien to play along with her little games.

One final change later, Felix exited the tent to see Lila talking with Nathalie. From the look of it, she had been the one to approach Nathalie rather than the other way around- after all, Nathalie had been standing in the same spot for most of the shoot- and she seemed to be trying to persuade Nathalie of something. And- odder yet- Nathalie actually seemed to be listening.

Felix frowned at that. Nathalie actually listening to someone who wasn't her boss? That was unusual, not to mention incredibly suspicious- and so was the entire inclusion of Lila in the Gabriel photoshoots, honestly. Why would Nathalie- and by natural extension, Mr. Agreste- want to bother working with someone like Lila? She was hardly a talented model. Even though she had had more experience with photoshoots than Felix had, and it was Felix's first time modeling to boot, she had needed more direction (and redirection) than he had. She rarely did exactly as the photographer asked, particularly with several shots alongside "Adrien". She preferred making her poses more flirty and having her hands on "Adrien" whenever she could, even arguing with the photographer about the poses he wanted. Lila was hardly any great beauty, either, and her atrocious hairstyle wasn't doing her any favors. And she was hardly rich or famous to start with, despite what she reportedly liked claiming.

Surely Mr. Agreste and Nathalie wouldn't fall for her lies. Maybe they weren't the sharpest tools in the shed, but they had enough experience to navigate what his father had always referred to as shark-infested waters of the business world. They should be able to pick up on the lies and manipulation without a problem.

...so why was she here? What was Mr. Agreste getting out of their arrangement? Besides higher bills from photoshoot staff because of Lila holding things up, of course.

Felix didn't like this. Not at all.

Nathalie finally nodded, making a note on her tablet, and then she and Lila parted ways. Felix glanced away at once- he didn't want to appear to be inviting her over, after all, he had already had more than enough of her for the day- but he could see her making a beeline for him regardless. Felix deliberately stepped away, headed for Adrien's bodyguard. He would very much prefer to go back to the house now, but Lila was faster.

Faster, and had very sharp nails.

"Surely you weren't about to run off without saying good-bye?" Lila crooned, her voice so sickly sweet that it nearly made Felix gag. "How rude."

"If you put holes in this shirt with your nails, my father will hear about it," Felix warned her instead of replying with a cutting comment about how hypocritical it was of her to call anyone rude. Lila only scoffed and tightened her hold, ignoring his words just as he had ignored hers.

"I feel like you're forgetting about our arrangement, Adrien." Lila's voice had dropped to a hiss. "Or do you want everyone to turn on Marinette, hmm? Think about it."

She didn't give him a chance to respond before giving his arm another painful squeeze and flouncing away, trailing her fingers across his chest as she went. It was probably just as well that she left, really, because Felix really wasn't sure what to say about that.

What kind of arrangement his cousin had with that wretched girl, Felix didn't know, but he didn't doubt that it was neither a good one nor a smart one. Considering that it apparently involved threats against one of Adrien's friends- the friend Adrien had gushed about the most over the past couple of days, coincidentally- there really was no way that it could be a good arrangement.

He brought it up with his mom that night, bringing up the fact that Adrien had thought to warn him about Lila and her lies, but he hadn't mentioned the harassment- the sexual harassment, really, considering the fact that Lila had tried to kiss him and rub her hands all over his chest- that was clearly normal for her interactions with him. That seemed like a rather important thing to mention, and the fact that he hadn't...

"Adrien's probably been raised not to raise a fuss," his mom said once she was done ranting and raving about shameless harlots and the adults who enabled them. "Or- you mentioned some sort of deal. Adrien might have decided the best way to protect his other friend was by just tolerating this monster, because no one's taught him better."

Felix blinked. He had heard his mom criticize her sister before, but not since her disappearance. It was a bit strange to hear, honestly, no matter how the indirect the criticism was, but he wasn't going to point it out.

"Emilie wouldn't want someone harassing Adrien," Amelie said after a minute of angry muttering under her breath. "I'm sure she would have taught him about exceptions to the whole politeness rule after he started attending school and running into less savory people. And she would want me to step in now." Her fingers started tapping against the table, an angry staccato as she thought. After a couple minutes, she spun to face Felix with an eager clap of her hands.

Felix, who was more than used to this sort of behavior by now and who had resumed eating his dinner while she thought, merely raised an eyebrow and set his fork back down on his plate neatly.

"You said that Adrien has regular photoshoots with this girl, correct?" Amelie asked eagerly. Felix nodded at once, raising an eyebrow at how hopeful his mom sounded.

"Yeah. And he mentioned that the start of his summers always has a higher concentration of photoshoots, to make up for not having them during exams and studying. That's why I offered to go for him today, because he's been kept so busy that he's not been able to see his friends. And because he had scheduled something with his friends, and then Nathalie just knocked it off of his schedule to put the photoshoot there instead and that didn't seem fair."

Amelie muttered something uncomplimentary about that, too, then her determined expression returned. "Well, that works in our favor. Tell Adrien that you'll do his next photoshoot, too- if you're willing to, of course," she added hastily. "And then I want you to tell this girl no. Tell her to back off. Enforce your boundaries- which I know you're good at doing."

Felix hesitated. He could see where his mom was going with her plan and why it would make more sense for him to be the one to confront Lila instead of Adrien, but- well, another Lila-filled photoshoot really wasn't that appealing.

But it sounded like he wouldn't have to deal with Lila's nonsense this time and could cut it off like he normally would, abrupt and sharp. He could see her downfall in person, see her expression go from overconfident to uncertain to crushed.

Maybe it was a bit petty and vindictive of him, but... well, Felix was a bit petty and vindictive, so what.

So he nodded. "I can do that."

Amelie lit up, clearly excited. "If I'm reading this girl right from what you've said, your no will mean next to nothing to her and she'll persist. To press charges and win, we'll probably need audio- and I can set you up with something that can hide under your clothes without showing."

Felix couldn't help the grin that flashed across his face. "Very nice."

"If my schedule allows, I'll be there too," his mom added. "As close by as I can be, so I can step in as needed. If Nathalie thinks that she'll be telling Adrien- you- to simply endure the harassment, she has another think coming."

"I like that," Felix said at once. "I mean, I don't like the idea of having to tolerate any more of Lila's company, but I can do it."

"Fantastic." Amelie leaned forward, her eyes narrowed in concentration. "Now, as for the rest of the plan..."

  Convincing Adrien to let Felix take over for his next photoshoot was easier said than done, particularly after Felix told him about the brief face-off that he and Lila had had after the photoshoot. Adrien wanted to step in and work to smooth things over before Lila could lash out at Marinette in retribution, but Felix pointed out that Lila wouldn't be able to lash out at Marinette if Felix carried out the photoshoot like his mom wanted him to. She would be completely and thoroughly discredited, and if she turned into an akuma for it- well, so what? Better her than Marinette, surely, or Adrien.

Adrien hadn't considered that, obviously. After another moment's consideration, and the reassurance that it was Amelie's plan and not Felix's, he had given in and sent a screenshot of his photoshoot schedule to Felix so that he could show his mom and they could plan. Thankfully the next photoshoot wasn't too far out, so Adrien might not have to deal with keeping Lila happy in the meantime so that she wouldn't try to smear Marinette's reputation.

(Apparently Marinette was the only one of Adrien's friends who had been told about Felix's stepping in for a photoshoot thus far, and the only one told about Felix's plan to knock Lila back. He hadn't seen her again in person, but from what Adrien told him, Marinette had already forgiven Felix for the fiasco he had caused during his previous time in Paris.)

(Marinette was also the person that Adrien was going to be spending his time with while Felix was doing the photoshoot. Apparently most of his other friends were going to be busy, but Marinette wasn't, and she had been plenty happy to spend some time with Adrien.

Adrien had been pleasantly surprised by that, since he had been sure that she would be busy, too, but Felix hadn't been. After all, Marinette was in love with Adrien, wasn't she? Of course she would make time to spend with Adrien, that shouldn't have been a surprise.

Or had she not confessed to Adrien again in the months since Felix was last in Paris? He would have thought that she would have.)

"Remember to turn the recorder on," Amelie reminded him as they pulled up near the school, where Adrien was finishing up with a fencing lesson. He and Adrien were hoping to make the swap earlier than they had the previous time, since the photoshoot was pretty much right after Adrien's fencing lesson got out and it would be hard for them to swap without risking someone noticing. "And be very clear vocally about your objections, so that the recorder will pick them all up."

"Will we be able to use the recordings, do you think?" Felix asked, a thought occurring to him last-minute. "Or is it against the law here? I think it's fine back at home, but…"

"I'll deal with it if there's any legal issues," Amelie assured him. "I have connections, and I'm not afraid to use them."

That didn't quite answer Felix's question, but he supposed that it was as good of an answer as any. With one last check to make sure that he looked like Adrien and had everything he needed, Felix hopped out of the car and slipped into the school, making his way to the locker rooms. The fencers were finishing up their last matches, so it was easy enough for Felix to head to the bathrooms and text Adrien to make sure that he would know to come into the bathrooms, too. They wouldn't see each other face-to-face before the photoshoot- after all, Adrien's teammates might question how he had somehow doubled himself if they ran into the two of them in the bathroom- but it would make the trade much easier.

It wasn't long at all before Felix heard someone else enter the bathroom. He straightened in his stall, listening closely and keeping an eye on his phone. That could be Adrien, but it could just as easily be one of his teammates.

Luck was on his side. His phone buzzed, and a message lit up the screen.

Adrien: In the bathroom. Left my fencing bag on the chair near the door- you can take it so that the Gorilla doesn't wonder where I left it.

Felix nodded and shot back a quick message.

Right. See you later.

After another pause, Felix stepped out of his stall, heading for the sinks and washing his hands before claiming the fencing bag that was sitting on the somewhat out-of-place chair near the door. One glance- or rather, one whiff- inside assured him that it was Adrien's bag, and so Felix slung it over his shoulder before heading out into the locker rooms. A few good-byes to Adrien's teammates later and Felix was in Adrien's car, being whisked efficiently away by his bodyguard to the photoshoot.

Trade-off: smooth as butter.

Now that he had been to a photoshoot once, there was far less hesitation in Felix's step as he headed into the small tent to change, then out to hair and make-up for a touch-up. He had to wonder why Mr. Agreste would schedule a photoshoot for right after fencing in the first place as the stylists teased his hair to perfection. Surely the real Adrien's hair would be sweaty and messy after fencing and it would have made more sense for him to have some time for a shower first?

Maybe this was a one-off thing, just happening because they were trying to catch up on photoshoots after exams and they also had to work around Lila's schedule. If she even had one, that was. Something made Felix guess that Lila simply spent a lot of time holed up in her room, scheming and plotting. Maybe she pretended that she had a packed schedule in front of her friends, but in reality...

Well, one had to be really uninteresting to go to the same amount of effort that Lila was to get attention, and that generally suggested a lack of real activities to do.

Just like the previous time, the photoshoot started with individual shots. Felix went through the motions, posing and adjusting his expression as requested. It all went very smoothly...

...and then Lila showed up.

While Lila did her first individual shoot and Felix changed into his next outfit, he pulled the recorder that his mom had given him out. It was small and discreet, easy enough to hide until his shirt or in a pocket without creating any lumps. He got it set up to start recording, then headed outside, resigned to at least a few minutes of dealing with Lila and her grabby hands.

And as expected, Lila started clinging to him the second that Felix got back outside.

"Positions, please!" Simon called. "I want you back to back, but not quite touching, just next to each other-"

"Don't you think that we should be closer, though?" Lila asked immediately, wrapping her hands around Felix's bicep. "We could play a couple!"

"Not for these outfits," Simon told her. "Backs to each other, please-"

"Oh, but I think-"

"I think my sleeve is getting wrinkled," Felix commented, trying to step away from Lila. "And if you don't let go, you're going to bruise my arm."

Lila scowled and finally released him. Felix readjusted his shirt- there were no wrinkles, of course, the lovely light fabric that the shirt was made out of wasn't the type to get creased up by a minute's clinging- and then slid easily into position.

"Good, Adrien, perfect!" Simon called. "Lila- no, not like that, I want your arms crossed- if you stand like that, it looks like you're trying to cop a feel, and no one wants that."

...Felix wasn't even surprised.

The next few shots went the same way. Lila was clingy, but not as incredibly forward as she had been at the end of the previous shoot. Maybe getting her off required several reprimands and comments about how she was messing up his outfit, but she did get off. Eventually.

And then they changed outfits again, and Simon consulted his shot sheet. His eyebrows raised, and then he glanced between Felix and Lila. "The top suggested theme for these outfits is, ah, summer romance."

Felix blinked. That... was not what he was expecting. It sounded like something that Lila would have suggested, not something that Adrien's stick-in-the-mud father or his secretary would come up with.

And then it hit him like a brick. He would bet anything that this was what Lila had been talking to Nathalie about at the previous photoshoot. She had been the one pushing and pushing for a 'Summer Romance" theme for an excuse to get close to him in the previous shoot, and now she had gotten it.

"Oh, that's lovely, isn't it, Adrien?" Lila trilled. She attached herself to his arm, plastering herself against his side. "There's so much to work with there! Hugs, kisses- we'll be so cute together!"

"I'm not comfortable with that," Felix said at once, looking to Simon. "You said that was a suggested theme. Would it be possible to go with another theme?"

Simon nodded, referencing his sheet. "Yes, of course. One of the other suggestions was-"

"Oh, I think we should at least try it!" Lila insisted. Her grip got tighter, and her nails dug in. "Here, let's just start now and not overthink it!"

With that, she bounced up on her toes and tried to press a kiss to Felix's cheek, aiming for close to his mouth. Felix leaned back as fast as he could, dodging her completely in one quick movement.

Maybe he had complained about taking gymnastics as a child, but sometimes it really did come in handy. Perhaps he should consider picking it back up again.

"I'm not comfortable with that," Felix told her clearly, ignoring Lila's scowl and the way her nails dug in even deeper. "And since I said no, we're not doing it."

"Well, I want to!" Lila insisted. "Come on, Adrien! We're friends, aren't we?"

There was that edge again. This time, Felix knew what it meant: by the time the photoshoot ended, she was probably going to start her attacks on Marinette's character. It was an attempt to bring Adrien back under her control.

Too bad she was dealing with Felix, not Adrien.

"That doesn't mean that I'm comfortable doing romantic shots," Felix said firmly. "Particularly if you're going to try to spring unwanted kisses on me. Now kindly let go of my arm. Your nails are digging in."

A scowl flashed across Lila's face before she pasted on her happy face again. "How can you know that you aren't comfortable with it until you've tried it? At least a few shots-"

"Remove your fingers from my arm or I will remove them for you."

Lila's grip only got tighter. "Stop complaining, I'm hardly-"

Felix didn't let her finish. Before she could break any more skin, he grabbed two of her fingers and bent them back sharply. They gave with a (satisfying, Felix had to admit) crack, and Lila snatched her hands back with a cry.

"My fingers!"

"I told you to let go," Felix told her tartly, stepping away and rolling up his shirt sleeve to reveal the dents and cuts from Lila's nails. "Simon, would you mind snapping a picture of this? I have a photo from when she did this during the last photoshoot, but this is far worse."

Simon nodded at once, getting in close and snapping photos from all angles. Across the way, Nathalie finally noticed the commotion and hustled over, glancing between Felix and the sobbing Lila.

For once, Felix was willing to bet that the tears weren't fake.

"He broke my fingers!" Lila sobbed, clutching her hand close to her chest. "Adrien, I can't believe that you would be so mean-"

"Nathalie, I think you should look at this," Simon told Nathalie, pulling her over next to Felix. "Adrien has commented numerous times during photoshoots that Lila is holding on to his arm too hard. He asked her to let go several times in a row before he pulled her off, and- well, I can't blame him, she's drawn blood."

Nathalie's lips pressed together in a thin line as she inspected the injury, and then she pulled out her phone. "I'm going to call Lila's mom, and then I'll call Mr. Agreste. I think it's safe to say that Lila will be fired. This is unacceptable."

Felix could barely hide his smile.

  Twelve minutes later, Mrs. Rossi rushed into the park, her wide eyes locking onto the still-sobbing Lila almost immediately. She rushed to her daughter's side at once, kneeling down beside her.

"Mio caro, what happened?" Mrs. Rossi asked, reaching for her daughter. "Ms. Sancoeur said that you got your fingers broken!"

"What happened is that Lila learned the consequences of sexual harassment," Felix cut in coolly before Lila could speak up, and Mrs. Rossi's head swung to the side, her eyes wide. "Some of the consequences, at least. I will be pressing charges, and she'll be lucky if I'm the only one."

"Se- sexual harassment?" Mrs. Rossi exclaimed, glancing between him and Lila. "Surely that's an exaggeration, Nathalie, how on earth would Lila do anything that could be considered sexual harassment to her boyfriend during a photoshoot? Surely this was just an overreaction to a lover's spat-"

"I was not aware that your daughter was dating anyone, least of all me," Felix told her, since- well, it was true. After all, Adrien wouldn't touch someone like Lila with a ten-foot pole. "Frankly, considering how often Lila lies, I'm surprised that you believed her at all. No one wants to be dating a liar, particularly a social-climbing liar with no respect for personal space."

Mrs. Rossi reeled back. "A- a liar? No, Lila's a sweet girl!"

"They're just trying to frame me, Mommy!" Lila sniffled, and Felix rolled his eyes. Of course she would pull out the mummy card now. "Adrien just a-attacked me out of nowhere, we were just modeling-"

Felix snorted. He had abandoned his Adrien act for good now, and from the looks he was getting from Nathalie, she had caught on to the switch. He held up his injured arm, deciding to ignore Lila completely. She clearly wasn't going to admit that she was in the wrong, so entertaining her at all was a lost cause. "A 'sweet girl', hmm? She's given both me and my cousin bruises from clinging so hard, and now she's broken my skin. And she's been threatening to destroy the reputation of one of my cousin's classmates, all because she's a petty brat who hasn't been properly contained."

Mrs. Rossi shook her head, her eyes wide as she took in the injuries. "No, that doesn't sound like her at all! Why- why would she want to destroy anyone's reputation, that makes no sense!"

"Because I haven't-"

"Because Marinette called her out on her lies," Felix told Mrs. Rossi tartly, raising his voice over Lila's whine. "The lies about knowing all sorts of famous people personally, because she 'saved their cat' or was personally helping them with songwriting or was running a million charities, or the lies about going on a- what was it, a three-month trip out of Paris during the school year, when she was actually here the entire time?"

Mrs. Rossi slumped on the ground. "No, no, I can't- I can't believe this-"

Lila shuffled closer to her mom, still clutching her hand to her chest as she made another effort to squirm out of the situation. "They're lying, mama, don't listen to them-"

"Well, you had better start believing it!" Amelie snapped, appearing out of the nearby trees and striding up to the group. She waved her phone. "I have pictures of your little hussy of a daughter trying to force a kiss on my son, and we have evidence of her refusing to let go of my son's arm. You should be ashamed, really! I don't know how I would be able to show my face in public if my son acted the same way that your daughter has! Lying and manipulation and sexual harassment and threats for months and months and months on end, and what have you done to stop it? Nothing, by the sounds of it!"

"I didn't know-" Mrs. Rossi started, but Amelie cut her off with a scoff.

"You didn't know? Oh, excuse me for not being very impressed there. I've been busy as anything quite often with my projects and modeling and films and charity and events, but you had better bet that I made the time to check in with Felix's teachers! If I didn't have the time to go in before or after school, I emailed them. I made sure that I met his friends. I knew the instant that he started acting out, and I could talk to him about it. Have you done any of that?"

"No, but-"

"And this whole business with Lila being 'out of the country' for months! How did you miss that she wasn't going to school?" Amelie demanded.

Mrs. Rossi flinched. "I- she said that the school was closed because of akuma attacks-"

"For three months? That's not even a good lie! Do you live under a rock? Sometimes the akuma attacks drag on for a bit, but it's just hours, not- not even days! All you would need to do to disprove her ridiculous lies would be to turn on a TV! Or do a Google search, that only takes seconds!"

"I-" Mrs. Rossi swallowed hard, and her voice got quiet, nearly inaudible. "I was busy at a new job, and I- I thought that I could trust her."

"Clearly not!"

"In any case, Lila is fired as a Gabriel model, and we will be plenty transparent with the media as to why should they ask," Nathalie told Mrs. Rossi, consulting her tablet. "Adrien has confirmed that he's been grabbed at just like Felix, and that is unacceptable. Mr. Agreste expects that his son be able to work without being sexually harassed by other models."

Mrs. Rossi only nodded, all of the fight drained out of her. Lila whipped her head back and forth between her mom and the rest of the group, panic starting to spread across her features.

"Mama, you don't believe them, do you-"

"Quiet, Lila," Mrs. Rossi snapped. "I've heard enough. I've seen the evidence. I know that you're lying now."

Lila's face screwed up, and then she suddenly lunged to her feet, right at Felix. "How dare you! I had everything going my way, and you've screwed it up! When- when I get akumatized, you'll regret this, Adrien!"

Felix stepped neatly out of the way, extending one foot just enough to send Lila sprawling back to the ground with a wail of pain but not enough that it would be obvious that it was completely on purpose. "Boo-hoo, cry me a river. Also still not Adrien. Try his stunt double instead."

Lila only sobbed on the ground, clutching at her fingers. Her mom hauled her up, looking completely ashamed as she hustled her daughter away.

"Well, I think that's the end of this photoshoot," Nathalie said as soon as the duo was out of sight. She sighed, massaging her forehead in clear exasperation. "Felix, can I ask that next time, Adrien actually shows up like he's supposed to?"

Felix raised an eyebrow at her. "Why? It's not like anyone will be able to tell the difference."

"Gabriel would be most unhappy-"

"Gabriel is unhappy about most things most of the time, so I don't see how it makes any difference," Amelie told her tartly. She looped her arm through Felix's. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I think that Felix and I have a lawsuit to go file. Good-bye."

As it turned out, Gabriel didn't even have to tell the press why its newest model had been abruptly dropped. An Adrien fan had been hidden nearby and watching the shoot, and had taken video of the entire Lila downfall. It had been uploaded at once, and spread across the internet by other fans.

Fortunately, it meant that- at least in Paris- no one would ever believe Lila Rossi again. The outrage over everything that she had done- and especially the attempt at a forced kiss and the clinging to Felix hard enough to break his skin- was enough that Felix was pretty sure that no one would even try to be her friend out of pity. There was no way that any of Adrien's classmates would miss the news, either, which was really what they were most interested in.

Unfortunately, Adrien's fans were over the moon at the idea of an Adrien stunt double, because it meant that there were two of them.

...and unfortunately for some particularly avid and over-eager fans, Amelie Graham de Vanily was none too thrilled about her son and her nephew getting chased around Paris and was still riding high on the success of her lawsuit against Lila. One dinner with the Bourgeois family later and it was officially against the law in Paris to chase after teen celebrities and to form what amounted to search mobs, and there was going to be further investigation and adjustment as needed to prevent other future harassment. Also- and on a completely unrelated topic- Audrey Bourgeois would be in charge of the wardrobe department on the next Graham Films production.

And as for Felix... well, all of a sudden, Adrien's friends all became a lot more receptive to the idea of inviting him to their get-togethers. Some were still a little wary of him, but that didn't bother Felix at all. After all, Felix was used to people regarding him with some trepidation at home, and he was hardly going to make himself comfortable by acting all warm and cuddly. But several of Adrien's friends were fine with that, or perhaps they just were accepting because they knew that it would make Adrien happy.

Felix didn't suppose that it really mattered either way. He wasn't trying to form lifelong friendships in Paris, just trying to enjoy his summer as well as he could. And with Lila firmly out of the picture- she had been shipped back to Italy to attend boarding school, mostly to keep her away from akumas- and with outwardly friendly company...

Well, the summer was looking bright.

[andorwhore]

Saudade - IV of VII

Chapter IV of VII: Care

summary: A year in the life of a rebel with a cause and a rebel in search of one… chapter four: Lose has a tendency to bring people close, and that can be daunting.

author’s note: Who hasn’t updated since October? I guess it’s me, the resident asshole author. I took a very long and unexpected break from writing due to school and work, and I still haven’t written any new content unfortunately. But I thought it would be a shame to let this complete chapter sit around unpublished. So, I’m hoping that this will motivate me to finish up this story (and potentially add that new chapter I’ve been considering). And if I never get around to wrapping this fic up, at the very least this is the perfect chapter to leave it on.

pairing: Cassian Andor x OC word count: 11,465 (longest one yet babey) rating: T, eventual R warnings: is ~*~intimacy~*~ something that requires a warning lol

chapter one || chapter two || chapter three || chapter four

[ff.net] [ao3]

taglist: @justanotherblonde23​

The Festival of Stars was a celebration Jai was quite familiar with, or at least as familiar as the average person could be. She didn't know the exact origin of the festival week, though she knew it had something to do with interstellar space travel; what she did know with certainty is that every year, the Ring of Kafrene became overloaded with travelers during the holiday, en route to destinations all across the galaxy. On Kafrene, the people took to celebrating it as well, though as Jai got older she realized it was a means of ripping off all the gullible tourists that made pit stops on the colony. Residents of Kafrene were smart to jump on the opportunity, Jai's friends and family included, and ironically enough, because of the locals' investment in playing travelers for fools, the festival in its own way became a part of what little culture Kafrene had.

Jai hadn't expected to hear anything about the festival on Yavin 4. Hell, she all but forgot about the holiday week, the last six months of her life having been all consumed by Alliance business. She first heard someone mention the Festival of Stars just as they were heading back to the base after a mission to a planet called Naator (this being yet another world Jai had no prior knowledge of). She was brought along on the mission as tech support, though Jai was fairly certain she wouldn't be needed.

She had ended up spending a whole day on Naator just sitting in the ship and waiting for her team to return. The most thrilling thing that happened to Jai was when some local animal spooked her as she did an engine check in the morning, and she nearly fried the creature with her blaster. Her team returned successful, and they were off of the planet just as quickly as they had arrived.

As they started on their few hours journey to return back to Yavin 4, one of the team members reminded everyone that the holiday was going on that week, and that they should make a pit stop to pick up a few things to celebrate. Jai listened with intrigue as the group excitedly discussed the festivity, curious to hear about it from the perspective of those that didn't grow up trying to find ways to profit off of the holiday.

Apparently, quite a number of the rebels celebrated it every year, along with the other two Fete Weeks. Jai, of course, didn't know about these other weeks - they had their own dumb holidays back on the Ring of Kafrene, and the Festival of Stars was the only one she knew of that was celebrated in all corners of the galaxy. Rebels, no matter what planet they came from, all seemed to love the holiday, saw it as an opportunity to relax and forget their responsibilities for a while.

Although the festival was traditionally celebrated over the course of five days, the Rebellion only had two evenings unofficially dedicated to it - after all, it wouldn't be very practical if they spent an entire week partying. The "unofficial" part, someone explained to Jai, was because the council of superiors didn't recognize it as any kind of reprieve from work - they were happy to allow their rebels to celebrate, and even happy to take part in the festivities if time allowed, but the Festival of Stars wasn't something marked on everyone's calendars as time off. In the Rebellion, there was no such thing as time off. If someone was lucky enough to have one of the two evenings free, then they were welcome to join in the party.

Jai's team were all planning to attend once they got back to Yavin 4, encouraging the slicer to join them - and Jai was never one to turn down a party.

The Naator mission team ended up going a little crazy during their pit stop on one of the planets in the nearest trading belt - apparently, Jai observed, the Festival of Stars was more like the Festival of Drinking among the rebels. They grabbed everything from spicebrew to malts to drinks that Jai had never even heard of; and, of course, she made sure they grabbed as much Merenzane Gold as they could manage. Jai could only wonder just how much alcohol there would be at base once the other rebels returned from their missions as well, all surely having the same idea as her team.

By the time they returned to Yavin 4, evening was slowly closing in, and the hangar seemed far more crowded than usual - it would seem the partying was far too big for the confines of the mess hall, as the rebels took to setting up out here instead. The Naator team was already buzzing with impatience as the gunship settled on the tarmac, everyone waiting to jump out and join the party that had just begun over on the west side of the hangar. Everyone grabbed up the boxes of alcohol scattered across the ship - Jai made sure she grabbed at least one of the crates of Merenzane.

As she stepped off of the ship, Jai felt a warmth swelling in her chest, hearing her teammates chattering excitedly and the carefree voices of their fellow rebels drifting towards them from the west side. Back home, Jai and her brothers loved the Festival of Stars, and they almost always managed to convince Tillian and Vinis to let them run off amongst the crowds each evening rather than have them work at Vinis' shop in the market (or have them take advantage of the tourists' guards being down). When the three of them were out together, watching the performances other locals put on, hearing the excited chatter of people on the streets, climbing up on rooftops to watch the crowd with interest and awe, they were unstoppable. They always ended those evenings on the roof of their home, staying up into the wee hours of the mornings to watch all of the excitement - up there, they felt as if they were on top of the entire world.

Those were simpler times, before Tillian passed, before Jai's brother ran off with some unscrupulous stranger, when they were still young and hopeful and without a care in the world. Jai missed those days and missed what her family used to be. The holiday didn't feel the same after they lost Tillian, and by the time her brother left, the festival was practically nonexistent to her - they could never go back to the dream of their childhood, and Jai had come to accept that. But as she walked through the hangar with her excited teammates, each with a bit of a skip in their steps, Jai felt as if this could start a new festival tradition for her, one that, though not the same as that of her past, would be just as good. This was the next chapter of her life, and with the next chapter came new things to love and be excited about.

Another half a dozen or so ships had pulled into the hangar after the Naator team, all landing on the opposite end of the hangar from where the enlivened rebels were setting up drinks and tables. Jai was about halfway to her destination when she looked back towards the new ships, but they were too far off for her to immediately identify any of them. Beside her, the team leader, Kinall, asked Jai if she felt steady enough to take another box of alcohol on top of the one she already had - Kinall had to head up to Command to report to her superior about the mission. Jai gave a histrionic sigh, but agreed to take the second crate, readjusting her grip on the box of Merenzane Gold before Kinall set the second box atop it. The captain spun around to head towards the turbolift, Jai watching her walk off while she ensured her grip was steady before continuing towards the party.

"I think you have a drinking problem." a voice teased noncommittally from somewhere behind Jai, causing a smile to pull across her face as she rolled her eyes. Turning around carefully so as not to drop anything, she spotted Cassian and K-2SO approaching her, looking as if they, too, had just returned from a mission. Cassian had a teasing smirk on his lips, and yet the expression didn't even remotely reach his eyes; and, though Kay was expressionless, he still somehow seemed eternally judgmental.

"My only drinking problem is that I haven't had enough yet to deal with you." Jai retorted, looking past Cassian at all the other rebels that had come back from their various missions, wondering briefly if Cassian had gone with a team or if his job had been solo.

Nearly everyone returned with something in hand, most of which Jai was sure had to be booze, though unsurprisingly, Cassian was empty handed.

For another moment, Jai watched the other rebels as most of them walked in her direction, though she noted the few that quickly made their way for the turbolift instead, heads down and expressions distraught. Must have been a sour mission that dampened their mood.

Jai looked between Cassian and the two crates she carried as they began to feel even heavier, "Help a girl out, would you?"

Cassian glanced with disinterest at the boxes in her arms, though Jai could now recognize the waggish glint on his face that, once again, didn't quite seem to reach his eyes, "You look like you've got a handle on it."

She gave him a small glare before turning her eyes up towards K-2SO, but before Jai could say anything, the droid spoke, "Don't assume I'll help you with it."

Jai scoffed, "Such gentlemen…"

She and Cassian met eyes again as he gave a tired, agreeing grin, stepping up to take the top box from her, Jai's arms immediately feeling relieved at the lightened load. As she turned back around for them to head toward the tables, she eyed Cassian curiously, noticing that his posture seemed exhausted and his face worn.

"What, didn't bring anything for the party?" The man looked back at her, his expression a little less amused than before. His lips seemed to press tightly together for a slight second. There was something on his mind, that much Jai could discern, but she was certain that Cassian would avoid mentioning it.

"I have no interest in parties."

Jai shouldn't have been at all surprised by the answer. Of course Cassian wasn't the party going type - he preferred his brooding to having a good time. Ever since their night of drinking two months back, Jai hadn't been able to get him to do so since. Sure, Cassian had a drink here or there that she knew of, but the two haven't since sat down and dedicated a couple of hours to simply drinking and chatting as freely and carelessly as they had back then. That evening caused a shift in their relationship, even if by this point they couldn't exactly remember all of that night.

They were friends now, even if Cassian refused to ever say so out loud. That didn't mean they saw each other everyday nor did they have the chances to make great efforts to spend time together, however, they could both feel it in the way they talked, the way they seemed to feel more at ease with one another, the way they simply seemed to fit together.

Jai had somehow convinced Cassian to spend meals with her and her other friends in the mess hall on a few rare occasions, and when she wasn't busy with something Jai wandered her way to Cassian's ship or up to the control room to take some time to chat with him if she knew he was around base. Neither had been back to the other's dorm, however - that evening months ago was a strange exception, and without saying so they both had a feeling that the next time that happened, it'd be very different from that time before.

Jai liked Cassian - most of the time, she was pretty sure she knew it was just as a friend, but every now and again she caught herself looking at him a certain way, looking at him with a warmth in her chest that she didn't feel often enough to be able to surely identify it. It didn't linger all too often, but when it did it wasn't easy to ignore; Jai could tell herself it was the kind of warmth one felt for a friend, but then she'd catch herself admiring him too closely or getting lost somewhere in her head if someone mentioned his name, and she knew there was no way this warmth was simply one of friendship.

It wasn't a crush - that word certainly felt too juvenile to describe whatever this was. Jai simply saw it as the part of her that got caught up in the "what ifs" - what if we met in a different way in a different place, what if we weren't in this rebellion, what if he wasn't so guarded and distant? The "what ifs" were casual and non committal - they weren't real wants or desires, Jai told herself. They were simple considerations that passed through her mind as if they were foolish impulses, like those pesky voices that asked "what if you just shocked yourself with one of your tools to see what would happen" or "what if you went and jumped out of a ship without taking any precautions?"

And this was a ship that Jai had no intention of jumping out of - it was better if it all just stayed up in her head. She didn't dare let herself wonder if Cassian ever had those random intrusive thoughts - he struck her as the kind of guy who simply didn't have the time for intrusive thoughts. Even when he wasn't busy, his mind was at work, and there was no room for useless thinking as far as she could tell.

So, the fact that Cassian didn't do parties was something Jai could have guessed about him - just like useless thoughts, Cassian didn't seem to have time for useless events either. Though, it was still disappointing to hear from him, because Jai saw Cassian as someone that was in desperate need of some lighthearted fun every now and again.

Jai hummed as they set the crates atop a table full of alcohol of all varieties, other rebels already swarming to grab some for themselves, "That's a shame, I really could use someone to help me drink all this Merenzane."

As she grinned at Cassian, Jai snagged a bottle of her favorite drink before they could all disappear. Cassian glanced at the bottle before his eyes flicked back up to meet Jai's for a moment with a raised brow; he looked behind himself at Kay as if he could get Cassian out of this party, but the damned droid had already retreated with disinterest.

"You'll have to find another drinking partner, Jai." He replied plainly… no, it wasn't plain, he sounded exhausted; he knew, though, that the woman almost surely wasn't going to accept his answer. Jai was persistent when she wanted to be, and something about Cassian always seemed to make her more tenacious than she usually was. Cassian discovered that, apparently, after making some passing comment to someone about Jai's persistence, she was never so stubborn with others, as his comment surprised the rebel he was talking to. She must have reserved all of that tiresome stubbornness for him and him alone. Upon discovering that, Cassian repeatedly had to stop himself from overthinking what that meant.

Cassian could tell from the look in Jai's eyes that she was about to attempt to persuade him to stay for a little while, and he could also see that she was hoping that she'd succeed. Giving her his own resolute look, Cassian turned his shoulder and started walking out of the crowd of other rebels.

"You know you can relax every now and again." Jai's voice chimed up from right alongside him; she sounded caring, as if she wasn't simply asking for his company, but asking for him to be at ease for once, "Maybe a party would be good for you."

"I think not." He glanced down at her. His tone nor his expression were either harsh or dismissive, but that weariness Jai spotted earlier seemed almost more present in his eyes, "I have to go debrief with Draven."

Jai couldn't argue with that particular point, knowing it to be true, though she was sure a debriefing couldn't take up much of his time. She sighed a little through her nose as she looked down at the Merenzane she was carrying. Something seemed to be bothering Cassian, or maybe this last mission was just so draining that he couldn't commit himself to socializing.

"Come back down for one drink?" She tried one final time, seeing the consideration on Cassian's face when she looked back toward him.

A part of Cassian wanted to say yes. Despite how awful he felt, and despite his complete lack of interest in the Festival of Stars, a part of him wanted to agree to a drink with some good company. He began to consider that maybe a drink is exactly what his drained heart needed right now, what his weathered mind could use. Though he wasn't keen on joining a pointless party, Cassian felt some kind of pull towards spending time with Jai, especially given the way she looked at him with such hopefulness. Whether that be because he was fond of her or because he knew he had something important to say to her, he wasn't sure.

After all these months, Jai had become a friend, though her tactics were relatively new ones to him - any time she was told "Cassian doesn't do this" or "Cassian doesn't like that," she blatantly did whatever those things were to challenge them, to test them and see if they were true or if simply no one else dared to try to get any closer to him.

Cassian would have expected himself to become annoyed by Jai's persistence, but despite himself he found that he respected it, found that he even came to genuinely like it - because he kept so many people at arm's length, he was refreshed by Jai's resolve to get to know him, to be his friend and to see him open up. Sure, Jai's disregard for his space could occasionally be a pain in his ass, but more often than not it turned out to be exactly what Cassian needed in a companion, in a friend, in… well, he didn't want to consider what she could be beyond a friend.

Jai raised one brow as a grin spread across her lips - Cassian's silent consideration was a promising reaction, she had come to learn. The silence meant he was interested in her offer, at least to some degree, he just simply didn't want to admit so. As he recognized the look on Jai's face, Cassian sighed with an indignant roll of his eyes.

He lifted his index finger between them for emphasis, "One drink."

Jai's smile grew wider as she motioned with her head towards the turbolift, hoping her smile would help lift some of that obvious stress off of his shoulders, "Go take care of your debriefing, captain."

The trace of a sad smile pulled at Cassian's face as he turned away from the woman to make his retreat. Jai watched him go with a content expression, eyeing her friend closely until finally the doors of the lift closed, only catching at the very last second that there appeared to be some kind of a sadness in his eyes.

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Jai had a feeling Cassian was going to flake on her.

Captain Kinall from Jai's mission already returned to the hangar, and the woman had gone up to command only a few minutes before Cassian. She'd been back long enough to finish one drink, and Jai found herself wondering if Cassian's debriefing had run over, or if he changed his mind and went back to his dorm without telling her.

She shouldn't be upset at him. It felt childish, this anxiety that bubbled in Jai's chest as she considered why Cassian didn't show. If he didn't want to join her for a drink, then so be it - she shouldn't let herself get upset over that, it was far too out of character.

But a small, nagging part of Jai was, at the very least, disappointed - despite how uneventful their conversations could be sometimes, she nonetheless was looking forward to getting some time with Cassian tonight. She always looked forward to even the briefest of minutes she got to see him.

Jai sat at one of the tables dragged out for the party, Abe and Miona across from her, and beside her another doctor named Pek. For what felt like the hundredth time, Miona was encouraging Abe to talk to another rebel that he fancied, and Pek was telling Miona and Jai to stop pestering him about it.

Of all the twi'leks Jai had met through the years, Abe was by far the most peculiar - the twi'leks back on Kafrene always seemed bold, fearless, and without any hesitation, but Abe was constantly getting caught up in his own head, always questioning and calculating everything before coming to any decision. It's what Jai found charming about him; the fact that he shared that quality with her younger brother is what drew her to Abe in the first place.

"Jai," Miona's voice stressed, drawing her friend from her daze - stupidly, Jai had been staring at the turbolift and once more got caught up wondering where Cassian was. Jai quickly collected herself, looking around the table, "Tell Abe he just needs to go talk to Chiri."

Jai could see Pek and Abe both roll their eyes, and the slicer gave a half-assed grin, "Abe, tonight is kind of the perfect night to go for it, what could go wrong?"

"I'm not going to make an idiot of myself trying to flirt with anyone." Abe argued nervously, looking tired to be having this conversation yet again.

Jai shrugged noncommittally, lifting her glass to her lips, "Then stop ogling her every time you see her - she might start to notice you."

Miona laughed good-naturedly, setting her hand on Abe's forearm as reassurance.

"Leave him alone, you guys." Pek rolled her eyes at them, giving Jai a little jab with her elbow, "We've had this conversation a thousand times already."

Jai gave her friend a nudge back, the corner of her mouth pulled up slightly, "Fine, fine, I promise no more talking about Chiri."

"You don't make promises." Miona scoffed around the rim of her glass.

Jai paused before nodding in agreement, raising her glass, "You got me there."

Jai's eyes drifted back toward the turbolift, and she mentally reprimanded herself for it - she shouldn't let Cassian trouble her. It was a stupid thing to keep focusing on; she was here with her friends, so why let one man's disinterested agreement to make an appearance linger in her thoughts?

A minute later, the turbolift doors opened, and dumbly Jai perked up a little, only to be immediately let down when she saw it wasn't Cassian. She hoped the others didn't notice her.

She sighed a little through her nose, knocking back the rest of the Merenzane in her glass in one swift swig before she started chewing on the inside of her lip, her brows pulled into a slight glare as she started down at her empty glass.

This was stupid. Why did she get herself excited for Cassian in the first place? They were friends, but they weren't that close. And yet, Jai felt a distinct fondness, a feeling of closeness despite knowing they weren't that. It was that draw she felt to him, the one stirred up when she started thinking "what if" again - it was the things in her head overriding what was going on in reality. She just needed to relax and have another drink, and the rebel captain would be forgotten for the remainder of the evening.

And yet… Jai felt some distinct pull to the man this evening, something she couldn't shake. It had to have been that look in his eyes earlier - Cassian looked exhausted despite putting up at least a decent front of impassivity, he looked downcast despite trying to make jokes to keep Jai off his scent. Maybe she should have read his body language better - he was probably so drained from whatever his latest job was, both emotionally and physically, that there was no way he could try to take part in socializing tonight.

'I don't think he's okay.' The thought suddenly struck Jai, though she tried to dismiss it as being her own anxiety just creating extra worry. Cassian was probably as fine as one could be after a rough mission, he just didn't care about this party. But then again, he seemed more off than usual earlier, like he was not entirely there despite trying to pretend he was.

Jai came back to reality again, looking around the table at her friends, wondering if they had noticed just how long she'd been silent. Miona seemed to give her a look of at least recognition that she had zoned out, but it wasn't a knowing expression as if she could figure out what was on Jai's mind. Jai sighed a little, glancing at her glass again before pushing up from the table without entirely thinking about it.

"I need another drink." The group's eyes drew toward her, and Abe lifted his own glass and shook it a little.

"Grab another for me, too?"

Jai nodded, though she wasn't entirely sure she'd be back to the table any time soon; but she didn't want them being suspicious about her disappearance, at least not from the get-go. As her friends returned to their discussion, Jai glanced back towards the turbolift as she started walking away - she knew she had herself convinced that something wasn't right, and now there was no shaking that though. Her legs carried her toward one of the tables full of drinks, but as she glanced down at it, she had no interest in refilling her glass.

Jai sighed - it looked like she was going to search for the rebel captain after all.

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Cassian wasn't sure when he had zoned out or how long he had been sitting still as a statue on the edge of his bed, but a knock at his door drew him out of his daze. As he blinked rapidly a few times, the knocking sounded again - how long had someone been at his door? Cassian's eyes drifted toward it, staring weakly - he was too exhausted to deal with anyone right now, and there wasn't anything that could be that important right now.

"Cassian." A voice sounded from the other side, causing his brows to perk and his back to straighten in recognition - Jai. She came looking for him, much to his own surprise.

When he agreed to return to the hangar, he was still on the fence about whether or not he'd even show, about whether or not he wanted to tell Jai what was on his mind. When he returned to his room to clean up after his meeting with Draven, Cassian knew he didn't have the emotional energy to put up with a crowd, even if it were just for a few minutes. He figured Jai would be content with her friends and forget all about asking him to show up, but evidently his assumption was false.

Cassian pushed his elbows off of his bare knees, staring at the door again as he sighed, deciding whether or not he even wanted to get up. Jai's knocking had stopped - did she give up? Despite himself, Cassian felt a certain disappointment, imagining Jai sighing on the opposite side of his door and walking away in defeat - maybe he wanted to talk to her, maybe he wanted some company. No, he wasn't the type that ever wanted someone around, especially not when he felt like shit as he was feeling tonight. Yet, something in him wanted to let Jai in.

Cassian rose to his feet while pushing his damp hair off of his forehead, hurrying to his small closet to dig out a pair of sweatpants, which he stumbled his legs into as he made for the door. As one hand finished pulling them up, the other snatched his discarded jacket from where he'd dropped it onto the floor.

He stuck his head out the door, seeing that Jai had, in fact, begun to retreat down the hall. For a moment, he simply stared at the back of her head, wondering what exactly he wanted - should he let her go, or should he call out to her? Why did he even go to his door to begin with? And why did he feel this craving for company somewhere in his chest, a craving for Jai's company?

"Jai?" His voice was quieter than he expected, and Cassian wondered if the slicer even heard him. But she paused and turned back, a small grin on her face as her eyes fell on the man that was halfway out in the hall. Upon spotting his damn hair and semi-bare chest, Jai looked Cassian up and down while he finished jerking the jacket over his shoulders; she quirked a brow slightly before looking back at his face while approaching.

"I thought you were gonna stand me up." She teased, making a joke out of the very real disappointment that she had been feeling earlier. As she paused in front of him, though, Jai noticed the conflict in Cassian's expression that had been there all night.

"… I thought about it." He admitted while looking into his room, silently leading Jai back inside. Just like before, she looked around the space, noticing this time though that there was a trail of discarded clothes leading towards the refresher. Her eyes turned back up toward Cassian, who stood between his bed and his closet, his head turned in consideration, as if deciding whether to face her or turn away, whether to remain on his feet or sit down. Despite the man giving no real clues, Jai knew there was something off about Cassian tonight, she just couldn't put her finger on why that was.

The two were quiet for a nearly uncomfortable length of time, Cassian's back still turned to her as they both stood dumbly in the middle of the room. So, Jai thought, she had been right to come looking for him, though she felt bad for her immature worry over why he didn't show.

"So, I take it you don't want that drink tonight." Jai finally said in a somewhat serious tone, though the answer was already obvious. She moved to take a seat on the couch, eyes still watching Cassian attentively as he finally turned to face her. He didn't have to say anything, Jai saw in his expression the confirmation she needed - it wasn't a good night. He was no longer putting up the front he had on down in the hangar as the two stared at each other for another long beat, Cassian hoping that he simply looked tired rather than distraught. But the observant shine in Jai's eyes made it clear to Cassian that he had been figured out.

Jai bit the inside of her cheek, wondering what she should say next - she never was one for serious conversations, especially when she knew the topic was something unideal. She especially wasn't prepared to have one with Cassian, and she wondered why the hell the man let her into his room - he wasn't the type who'd want to share an upsetting conversation with just anyone. Should she just go and leave him be?

"What happened?" Jai heard herself ask without thinking, her brow furrowed in worry. Another long silence stretched out between them; Cassian stared into Jai's eyes for a moment, but eventually looked down at his bare feet, hands resting on his hips as he let out a small sigh.

"It's nothing." He said, his tone nearly convincing - it would have convinced someone else to drop the subject, but Jai could see that this wasn't nothing, and she was never one to immediately give up, especially not with Cassian. Jai nodded while looking away, though she didn't accept his answer. Her eyes fell on the trail of clothes again as she considered.

"Look, I'm shit at this, but… do you need to talk about it?" She turned her gaze back toward Cassian, who was motionless as his tired eyes continued to look at her with reservation. Cassian knew he needed to tell her. Sure, Jai would have heard about this eventually, he already knew the information would make its rounds tomorrow - she should just wait till then. But something about it still nagged at him, something that felt as if it were important for him to discuss it with her now before it was too late. He had to be the one to tell her. it wouldn't be right if she heard it from anyone else, but he didn't know how he'd do it.

Finally, he shook his head slowly, his jaw tight as practiced authority briefly lit his eyes, though it only lingered for a moment. Jai in return gave a disheartened nod, pushing herself back up to her feet as her eyes continued to search Cassian's doleful face, her own worry evident in her expression.

As she took one defeated step towards the door, though, Cassian found himself taking a step forward as well, causing Jai to pause and look back at him. For a moment, Cassian sucked in his lips as he studied the woman's expression. There was yet again another long silence between them as they stared into each other's eyes unblinking.

Finally, Cassian took a deep breath, his voice quiet, "It's Gar."

Immediately, Jai's eyes widened with worry, nearly gasping as she inhaled through her nose - once she started to realize how dire Cassian's mood was, she feared that this was something she wouldn't want to hear, and the dread of that suddenly weighed heavily in her stomach.

If Gar was… Jai didn't even want to think the word. If he was, then that would be the first Rebellion casualty that would leave a mark on her heart. Jai knew others had passed in her six months as a rebel technician, but none of them she knew - though Jai tried to be at the very least friendly with each person that crossed her path, she knew only a sliver of the people on Yavin 4.

She wasn't like Cassian - she didn't feel connected to every single person here, she didn't feel weighed down every time another rebel didn't return home, she didn't let those losses linger. So many had been lost and Jai simply accepted it while moving on, knowing it came with the territory and finding it hard to feel anything when she didn't even know the person.

But Gar? A man who had been a boss and a mentor to her, who had been nearly a brotherly figure as of recent? She almost didn't want to hear what Cassian would say next.

Jai didn't even feel her feet move beneath her as she closed the distance between her and Cassian, pausing only a few inches in front of him as her wide eyes stared up into his. Those dark eyes were practically begging him to not utter what she feared, begging him to say he was just pulling her leg. But Cassian's downcast expression didn't change as he stared back at her.

"We got separated," Cassian started, his voice a dismal monotone, "The Empire got to him and Halu before we could."

Jai's next breath came out shaky, her wide eyes dropping to stare at Cassian's chest, afraid to look into his eyes for fear of losing her composure. Her mouth hung open slightly as she tried to process the information, but she could feel herself trembling as the grief started to creep in. Her hands began to wring at her sides, eyes slowly beginning to water. But tears didn't fall as she tried to blink them away - no, even in her worst moments, Jai had always been good about holding them back, about reeling herself in before she became a complete mess. The last time she cried in front of anyone was the day Tillian died. And just like what happened that day, what happened to Gar was completely out of Jai's control, and that silent mantra is what kept her even slightly stable as she stood here now, even if she knew that stability was only temporary.

Jai found herself warily looking up into Cassian's face again, a part of her desperate to reach out to him, but she continued to stand there stiffly, feeling her body ache suddenly as if she'd just run a marathon, exhausted and ready to collapse.

Cassian, though still obviously feeling that deep disappointment, had had at least some time to accept what happened - the ship ride back to Yavin 4 gave him and his team some time to mourn. As a captain, he had to be the grounding strength for everyone else whenever missions went awry, and having to do that through the years helped him develop his own means of coping with distress. But staring down at Jai as she tried to process the information, dealing with the emotions of a loss one-on-one rather than with a team, threatened to turn his exhaustion back into grief.

Silently, Cassian reached out to set a light hand on Jai's wrist, his pinky barely resting in her palm, but his touch caused her to start in surprise and jerk back from him. Her eyes widened a little as she met his stare, taking in another deep, shuttered breath as she tried to calm herself, holding her arm in her other hand as if Cassian's delicate touch had burned her. Slowly, she turned away and dropped down to sit on Cassian's bed as if she couldn't hold herself up any longer, her shoulders sagging and her head hanging lowly to hide her face from Cassian.

Jai never liked to be touched when she was emotional, ever since she was a kid she shied from it - if someone ever tried to offer her comfort, it often opened up the floodgates, and the last thing she wanted was to be blubbering in anyone's arms. Before she could even think about letting someone comfort her or talk to her about what she was feeling, Jai first had to deal with the pain herself, and if that meant running from the comfort of others, then so be it. And despite that part of her that wanted to reach out, that wanted to cling to the person nearest to her, Jai couldn't bring herself to do it - being so raw and vulnerable in front of anyone else terrified her.

Cassian stared at Jai knowingly, studying her pained expression as he felt his own fatigue from the day rising up again. He hesitated to move, even if it was to walk to his couch or to the seat in his kitchen - he didn't want to startle Jai again. So, once more, he stood stock-still, watching and waiting patiently.

A few long minutes passed in thick silence before Jai suddenly stood and darted into Cassian's refresher with barely any time for him to process that she had jumped up. His concerned eyes lingered on the closed door briefly before he finally started moving again, his knees feeling stiff as he walked to his kitchenette for a glass of water. He sighed as he chugged it down, having not realized how dry his mouth was beginning to feel.

He couldn't have anticipated that he'd feel so awful having to tell Jai what happened - Cassian had dealt with loss through the years, and had dealt with telling others about loss more times than he could count. Though it never necessarily got any easier, Cassian had grown accustomed to being the bearer of bad news, to seeing his fellow rebels mourn. And yet, something about this last time hurt more than it should have, something in Jai's eyes stung unexpectedly when she pulled away from him.

Jai had done something to him, though Cassian couldn't quite say what that was. Some time between their last night alone together and this one, Cassian started to feel something unfamiliar for the woman, and that something made it so much harder to see her broken and despairing, retreating from his touch and hiding on the opposite side of the door from him. Cassian was surprised to find that he wished he could be right there by Jai's side and consoling her as she mourned.

Despite himself, Cassian hated that he had to tell Jai, though he also couldn't have allowed anyone else to tell her. It had to be him, that much he knew, but that only made it somehow hurt more when he watched her face crumble.

Cassian refilled his glass and shuffled back towards his bed, taking a long sip of water once he sat down. His eyes drifted back towards the refresher door as he set the cup aside, feeling a pull to rise back to his feet and check on Jai. But he knew better than to try - he had to leave her be. For all he cared, Jai could keep herself locked up in his refresher all damn night, and he still wouldn't disturb her.

Once Cassian had finished his second glass of water, he looked down at the jacket he had quickly thrown on when Jai knocked at his door, slowly pulling it off of himself and dropping it in the pile of dirty clothes he stripped off earlier, wanting to simply lie back, let out a deep sigh, and close his eyes for a while. But as his gaze lingered on the pile that sat just before the refresher door, he tiredly pushed himself to his feet, knowing he shouldn't leave it there for Jai to accidentally trip over on her way out. He quickly hid all his dirty clothes away and retrieved a fresh tank top, hearing the door open behind him just as he had pulled it over his head.

Cassian turned to look at Jai as he pulled the shirt down his torso, noticing immediately that she wasn't looking at his face but rather at his chest, even if for a split second. Though there were bags under her tired eyes, Jai looked a little more refreshed - he could tell she had been crying and that she tried to clean herself up to hide the evidence of it. Her face and hairline were damp from splashing water onto her skin, and her eyes even had a different quality to them now. Through their tiredness, her eyes looked a little brighter and clearer - maybe she was trying to shove away any pain she was feeling. But her energy, too, had shifted, and Cassian felt a little less rigid than before - he was reminded that this wasn't the first loss Jai had dealt with, and it looked as if she had found a way of coping with the pain life threw at her.

The two stared at one another once more, studying the other's expression thoughtfully. Jai gave Cassian a weak, cagey smile, one that made the sadness in her eyes a touch more obvious - he suspected the look was to reassure herself rather than him. She let out a slight sigh and finally stepped back into the room, slowly approaching Cassian, once more coming to a pause only about a foot in front of him. She looked down while licking her dry lips, her eyes darting back and forth as if she were searching for the words that clearly wanted to leave her mouth.

Her eyes finally met his again through her lashes, "… Thanks for telling me." Her voice was quiet, and Cassian's brows rose a little at the words, "I wouldn't want to hear it from anyone else."

Cassian felt an unexpected stutter in his chest before he spoke slowly, his tone as quiet as hers, "I wouldn't have wanted anyone else to tell you."

Jai gave a slight nod in understanding as she looked down again, her eyes falling onto one of Cassian's hands as his thumb slid across the pads of his fingers edgily. She reached out and grabbed his hand firmly, drawing Cassian's surprised eyes down to their point of contact as well. Neither of them moved for a few long moments until finally Cassian gave Jai's fingers a reassuring squeeze. A faint sad smile ghosted across her lips again as she looked back up at his face, studying his features fondly, and despite how emotional they both were, Cassian nonetheless felt a warmth stir in his chest thanks to the look Jai was giving him.

"Draven wants me to tell your department tomorrow." Cassian started as his eyes returned to linger on their joined hands, "Chase is going to take over as supervisor."

Jai nodded, pushing down the lump that dared to rise in her throat again, "Chase'll be great, Gar trained her well."

Cassian turned his warm eyes back up to Jai's face, surveying her expression carefully as he thought, "Do you want to take tomorrow off?"

"No," she gave him a quick, reassuring smile and a shake of her head, and Cassian wasn't sure if he was imagining it or if Jai did move a touch closer, "I'll be better if I keep busy. I don't need you treating me any different than the rest of the hangar techs."

Her words weren't accusatory but thankful and appreciative that Cassian even asked her the question - if Jai needed evidence that Cassian had any interest in her, that was it. Cassian showing that kind of care to her eliminated any doubt Jai had regarding their friendship.

Jai squeezed Cassian's hand before slowly pulling away, her fingers gliding across his almost as if she didn't want to let go. Cassian's fingers clenched slightly, finding that he suddenly missed her touch. Jai took a single step back, sighing as she looked around the room while in thought.

"I should go." Her tone nearly contradicted her words, as if she disdained to even say them. But she was drained from the news about Gar, and she was certain that Cassian was as well - they both could use some good rest. She took another couple of steps before turning on her heel, and once more Cassian found himself taking a step forward.

"You could stay." Jai's eyes turned back to meet his, a questioning look in them. Cassian's expression was softer than she'd ever seen it, "Maybe we could both use the company."

A contented smile spread across Jai's lips, a warmth rising in her chest that helped to ease some of the pain that had been weighing on her just minutes prior.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Cassian awoke to the sound of blankets ruffling and Jai breathing unevenly. He wasn’t sure what time it was or what time the two had finally fallen asleep, but without checking the clock he was almost certain it was very early morning. Cassian had been a light sleeper almost his entire life, so although Jai’s movements probably would not have disturbed most people, she was just loud enough for his ears to prick up and notice.

Though the room was nearly pitch black, when he turned his head Cassian could tell Jai was still on the couch where he had left her, having not heard her rise from it. He insisted, once he started to see how tired Jai was, that she take his bed, but she just as adamantly argued that his cramped little couch would be fine, seeing as she was shorter so it would be less uncomfortable for her. Though Cassian tried to argue, he knew Jai wouldn’t budge, so at the very least he gave her his good blanket, hoping it would be some comfort to her.

For a minute, he simply lied still listening -- after Jai’s initial movement, which must have been her sitting up and rearranging, she hardly made a sound. If it weren’t for her uneven breathing, Cassian would have suspected that she had fallen back asleep; but those uneven breaths were shaky, as if the loss of Gar was coming right back up and threatening to wear so deeply at her mind that she couldn’t sleep again.

Cassian debated whether or not to say something, whether or not he should sit up and ask if she wanted to talk, wanted some kind of comfort. Maybe she had a nightmare that roused her, and maybe she’d simply want to be left alone; but maybe this time she’d want to talk to him.

As he heard Jai shift around again, as if fighting to find a comfortable position but to no avail, Cassian finally spoke up, his voice thick with sleep, “Jai.”

He heard the slightest of surprised noises escape her, and if he were looking Cassian was sure the startled look on Jai’s face might be mildly comical.

“I’m sorry,” Jai whispered, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Cassian propped himself onto his elbows to look in her direction, though because of the darkness he still could only just make out Jai’s silhouette, “I’m a light sleeper. You alright?”

“Fine…” Her tone wasn’t entirely convincing, but at least she didn’t sound as sad as Cassian feared she would -- she just sounded tired, “Just woke up suddenly. Must’ve been something in my dream, I guess.”

Cassian could see the way Jai slumped down a little, again making a feeble attempt at getting comfortable, “Or maybe your body’s protesting against the couch.”

Jai let out a huffed laugh, rolling her eyes, “My back does suddenly feel like it’s aged a couple of decades.”

Cassian sat upright, and he could feel Jai’s eyes trying to make out his silhouette in the darkness as well. As he grinned at Jai’s response, he stared in her general direction for a couple of moments, “Let’s trade.”

“You think your back will manage any better on this thing?” Her voice sounded humored by the suggestion, “Stay put, Andor.”

Cassian nearly laughed as he started to push himself out of the bed, retrieving his glass from the bedside table while shuffling towards the kitchen, which supplied the one small bit of light into the room from an emergency light that sat on the wall above the bar between the kitchen and the rest of the living space.

“I don’t think I’ll be falling asleep again too soon.” He said while refilling his cup. Turning back to the room, he could make Jai out a little better now that he was closer, and he held the glass in her direction, “Thirsty?”

Without answering, Jai lifted herself off the couch and padded over towards Cassian, circling the bar to retrieve the glass from his outstretched hand while leaning her hip against the counter. Cassian mirrored her position, though he rested some of his weight on his palm atop the bar as well as he stared into her face. Cassian could now make out her features just a little thanks to the faint light and their proximity to one another -- the outlines of her nose and lips, the slight glint of the light reflecting in her eyes. He looked down at her throat as he heard her swallow back nearly the entire glass of water.

Jai felt Cassian watching her far too closely, and yet she didn’t feel as uncomfortable under his gaze as she normally would have. As she set the cup carefully on the counter, she, too, stared up at him, trying to make out as much of his face as possible in the minimal lighting. Silence lingered between them as they stood there, neither having anything to say.

Though he could see her arm move from where it was crossed with the other, Cassian still jumped just slightly when he felt Jai’s hand slide over his, her thumb faintly rubbing circles on the outside of his wrist. He glanced down at their connected hands before finding the glint of her eyes again.

“Thank you, again, Cass.” Just like the first time, the gentle delivery of the unexpected nickname caused a shiver to work it’s way up Cassian’s spine. He hoped Jai didn’t notice.

“There’s nothing to thank me for.” He answered in a similarly quiet tone, tilting his head down slightly; he couldn’t help but feel guilty about what happened to Gar. The expert technician rarely went into the field anymore, but Cassian allowed him to go on this mission because the man showed interest. If Cassian had just told him no, Gar would still be here. Jai had no reason to thank him a second time, let alone the first time from earlier in the evening.

 All of Cassian’s attention briefly focused on where Jai’s thumb still brushed delicately against his skin -- how was it possible that the touch simultaneously calmed him and made his heart beat just a little louder in his ears?

Jai shrugged, attempting to speak jocularly, “You didn’t give me shit about crying in your ‘fresher and you let me stay here -- that’s worth some thanks.”

Cassian couldn’t help the small step forward he took, moving in even closer to Jai than he already was -- something about the dismissiveness of her earlier upset bothered him, “Your feelings are not a joke, Jai.”

 The seriousness of his tone took Jai by surprise, causing her to look up at him curiously, though Cassian couldn’t quite make out the expression in the darkness. He could tell her eyes were burning into him, and he stared right back with just as much weight. He found his mind focusing back on her hand atop his -- Jai’s thumb had already stopped moving, but it felt as if her grip tightened just slightly. In that same moment, Cassian became acutely aware of how close he had moved to her, how he felt an almost static energy bouncing between them. Without her saying so, Cassian knew Jai felt it as well. 

Jai lightly exhaled through her nose, her next words taking Cassian by surprise, “If someone asked me six months ago if I’d ever care about you, Cassian, I would have laughed in their face.”

Jai could see the faint light bounce off of Cassian’s teeth as he smiled unexpectedly at the remark, causing a grin to pull across her own lips. Cassian considered her for just a moment with fondness, “If someone had asked me, I would have done the same thing.”

The admissions caused them both to laugh smally, but it also felt like another spark of static surged between them. They stared at each other for another brief beat before Jai dropped her gaze to the darkness between them, feeling her heart beating far too heavily against her chest. Little did she know that Cassian’s heart was pounding just as quickly.

Did he understand the full weight of the meaning in her confession? Did she? Jai was surprised by her own admission, by the way her heart drummed in her ears, by this sudden need to lean into the man before her. The pull she felt towards Cassian seemed so much more palpable then it had been before, as if she could no longer keep it at bay; Jai knew she was doomed to succumb to that unfamiliar fluttery sensation in her stomach.

She called on her courage that felt as if it were trying to evade her, her voice coming out quieter and even hesitant as she looked up through her lashes, though thanks to the dark Cassian didn’t notice, “… I probably care about you more than I should.”

A weight felt as if it dropped in Cassian’s stomach, the confession seeming to echo between his ears as his heart drummed off-rhythm against his rib cage. His eyes widened in surprise and he stared intensely and unblinkingly at Jai, feeling his free hand twitch with some unfamiliar need to reach towards her, as if he still had to search for something to clarify what her words meant.

He realized then exactly what it was that had been building up inside of him, what these nerves were that only seemed to pop up when Jai was around. Cassian had had an understanding of what he was beginning to feel towards Jai, but in the past he was able to suppress it and shove it aside, to pretend it was unimportant, that it would pass. With the woman in question standing here mere inches before him, owning up to her own feelings, his weren’t quite as easy to ignore.

Cassian dipped his head, hoping it would draw Jai to look back up towards him as he leaned a little closer in search of her gaze. He understood exactly what Jai had meant, and yet he wanted to ask her, to hear the explanation exactly as she meant it to be understood. He wanted to hear it straight from her lips.

Jai continued to stare up at Cassian through her lashes, her stomach knotting when he moved in closer to her. If either of them moved any further, she would be leaning into him, her forehead pressed to his cheek, losing all traces of distance between their bodies. Despite trying to keep herself together, Jai’s breath came out in a waver that she tried to control, and she knew there was no way Cassian could have missed it.

In a brief moment of confidence, Jai slid her hand from it’s spot atop Cassian’s, fingertips slowly gliding over his forearm and securing a grip on his bicep. In the same second that she gave his upper arm a slight squeeze, as if to assure herself that he was really right there in front of her and that this conversation was really happening, Cassian’s hand steadily reached up and found a secure hold at the nape of her neck, his fingers twisting delicately in her dark locks and pulling her head back. For a beat, they breathed in unison, a shared look of yearning in their eyes as Cassian briefly pressed his forehead to Jai’s, giving them both one last moment to consider what was about to happen.

And then their lips met frantically, noses bumping and teeth nearly clashing together, neither certain who moved first as their need for one another took charge. Cassian’s lips were rough against her own, but the sharp taste of him drew a sigh from Jai’s throat, her free hand moving to grip the front of his t-shirt, pulling herself even closer as if he was her oxygen supply. Cassian’s tongue licked across her lower lip in a frenzied response, the heat of her body seeming to engulf him as she drew him nearer, her other hand jumping up to securely rest against his cheek.

Cassian’s arm wrapped around Jai’s narrow waist desperately, his palm pressing her flush against him while the fingers in her hair tightening their grip, twisting a little. An eager sound rumbled in his chest as he slipped his tongue between her lips, tangling with her own heatedly, feeling Jai grab at him with urgency, the scratch of her nails along his torso stirring a second moan from his throat.

As their kiss grew deeper, each feeling drunk off of the other, Cassian pressed forward until he had Jai’s back pinned against the bar, his hands snaking down her body with groping fingers that needed to feel every inch of her, his lips not straying from hers for even a second. When he found a secure grip on her ass, Cassian swiftly lifted Jai up onto the counter, causing a slight moan to escape her as he pressed himself against the warmth between her legs.

Jai’s fingers threaded messily into Cassian’s hair, nails scratching against his scalp as he finally pulled his mouth from hers, Jai gasping for air as he hardly paused for breath before starting to leave open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and down her neck, his teeth scraping hungrily against warm skin. He bit down lightly on the side of Jai’s neck, causing her to gasp and arch her back, the press of her breasts against his chest encouraging Cassian to nibble at her skin again before sucking it between his lips to leave a faint bruise. Jai let out another clipped moan as Cassian’s wandering hands squeezed her ass and pressed her forward against him as he gave a firm roll of his hips. His own shuddered groan muffled against Jai’s collarbone, his breath fiery hot on her skin.

Cassian worked his way back up to Jai’s mouth, nipping at her skin before finally crashing onto Jai’s waiting lips again. One of his hands trailed up her side, giving extra care to press firmly against her breast before continuing up to settle against her cheek, desperate to somehow pull her closer than she already was. Cassian pressed forward hungrily as Jai slipped her slick tongue back into his mouth with a smile pulling at her lips, leaning back under him until she finally let her weight fall onto her elbow. Cassian braced himself on his forearm as he continued to urge Jai down onto her back, the two moaning in unison as he gave another slow roll of his hips against her. As Jai lay flat on the counter, Cassian’s hand pulled away from her cheek, the delicate trailing of his fingers causing a shiver to travel up Jai’s spine as his hand found its way to her own. Jai desperately deepened the kiss as they laced their fingers together, slowly moving their joined hands above Jai’s head.

Their hands bumped into something that they didn’t spare a second thought for until it suddenly crashed down onto the floor, causing Jai to jolt up with a gasp, bumping into Cassian’s forehead before he could pull back from her.

“Shit.” He hissed in surprise, the hand that had been laced with Jai’s now pressed to his forehead. He continued to linger over Jai, the both of them trying to collect themselves and catch their breath, the air red hot between them. They met eyes, their breath mingling, and gently Cassian lowered his forehead to rest against Jai’s delicately, his hand finding a new resting place at the base of her neck.

Despite herself, a pure laugh sprang out of Jai, her amused smile wide as she closed her eyes, nearly embarrassed, “We broke your glass.”

A beaming smile crossed Cassian’s lips as well as he laughed, his nose brushing against Jai’s as he answered breathily, his accent thicker, “Doesn’t matter.”

He leaned forward to brush his lips against Jai’s briefly, pulling back far enough to look into her eyes again, his chest still heaving against hers. Slowly, he pushed himself up, his hands finding a resting place atop Jai’s thighs, his thumbs rubbing slow circles into the fabric of the sweatpants he let her borrow. For a moment longer, Jai stayed on her back, her hands sliding their way up Cassian’s forearms, fingertips pressing firmly into his skin as an eased smile tugged at her lips.

“Come here.” Cassian’s gentle yet commanding tone caused Jai’s middle to tighten with need, just the timbre of his voice alone causing her to let out a yearning sigh. Her hands secured around Cassian’s biceps again and used him as leverage to pull herself up, bringing her nose within centimeters of his as she sat up.

Cassian sighed contentedly, his breath brushing against Jai’s skin as he thought for a few long moments; he couldn’t find the words for any of his thoughts, so instead he pressed his lips tenderly to hers, one of his hands rising to cup her cheek affectionately. Once more, they pressed their foreheads together, mindlessly grazing their fingers along one another’s skin as they tried to collect themselves.

The longer Jai sat here and considered her current position, the more unexpected yet warming it became -- here she was, wrapped around Cassian Andor and feeling so completely at peace enveloped in his touch. She had considered in the past what this would be like, to be close to him and out of breath, to feel his lips against hers, to feel a heat twisting in her abdomen, but those daydreams were nothing like the reality. She had thought they would always remain daydreams, thoughts that passed her by not to be taken too seriously. Getting close to Cassian like this didn’t seem possible, and yet somehow here she was, high on his touch, drunk on his passionate eyes. Cassian, the man who didn’t like to get too close to anyone, whose best friend was a droid, who six months ago had vowed to distrust her… and he was standing here between her legs, his hold on her possessive and in want of more.

She wouldn’t say lucky was the right word, but Jai certainly felt satisfied as she and Cassian remained wrapped around one another.

Cassian finally took a step back from her, his fingers gliding along the top of Jai’s thighs and making her shiver. Her eyes had to readjust to the lack of lighting in the room, but she was sure she could see Cassian grinning fondly at her response to his touch.

His hands found hers as he took another step back, whispering, “Come on,” as he helped Jai hop down from the counter, the broken glass that had fallen to the floor somewhere completely forgotten -- he didn’t care enough to deal with it right now, he’d come back to it in the morning.

Cassian’s fingers lazily tangled with one of Jai’s hands, his eyes straining to find the glass shards on the floor so that neither of them stepped on something sharp. He carefully led Jai out of the kitchen, pausing in his cramped living space with the bed just a step behind him to look back at Jai with a tired smirk. Despite how close they were earlier, she felt her cheeks heat up, feeling the power of his gaze though she could no longer see it in the near-darkness. Cassian lightly tugged on Jai’s hand until she stepped closer, and she could feel Cassian’s free hand just hovering over her face until finally he set it on the base of her neck.

Cassian’s past fears and concerns about Jai crossed his mind as he held her in a comfortable and intimate silence -- he recalled their evening of drinking, when she first managed to send some kind of electric spark through him, when she first made him question the feelings going on inside of him. He had been so afraid to consider them and acknowledge them, because he knew what they meant -- he wanted to get close to someone, get close to her, despite all of his precautions through the years to avoid ever wanting that.

He realized that night two months ago that Jai would be trouble for him, but a completely different kind of trouble than what he had originally projected when they met. She was persistent with him, familiar with him, always making efforts with him -- no one had ever shown that exact combination of traits to him before. Jai had been throwing him for a loop for months now, and somehow she managed to wiggle her way into his heart, somehow slipping past all the emotional safeguards he built up through the years.

Cassian used to be afraid of this feeling. In many ways he still was. And yet, once his lips were on Jai’s, that fear dissolved away, at least temporarily. He wanted -- needed -- to be close to her, yet something in him continued to fear what would happen if he got too close. It was a habit that held him back, the habit of keeping people at arm’s length. But Jai… as much as it scared him, Jai made him want to break the habit and start a new one.

If anyone asked Cassian prior to this evening if he found himself attracted to Jai Tillian, he would have fervently denied it to the point of suspicion.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

                                                  Care [kair]

                                                      noun

a cause or object of concern; serious attention

provision of what is needed for the well-being or protection of a person

                                                      verb

to be concerned; have thought or regard; to have a special preference

to wish; desire; like

[st-just]

Barely coherent rambling about nation-states, culture, the Hapsburgs, and Canada

Because why have a blog except to occasionally purge one of the essays floating around half-formed in your brain. To be clear, it’s still half-formed, just on tumblr now. 1,666 words, here’s the Deveraux essay mentioned. Book is Martyn Rady’s The Hapsburgs: To Rule The World

So I’ve had like, nationalism on my mind recently.

And so there’s a kind of recurring beat in left-of-centre American political discourse (like, not ‘internet rnados screaming at each other’ discourse, ‘people with doctorates or think tank positions having debates on podcasts or exchanging op eds’ discourse) where you have some people on the radical end list some of the various horrible atrocities the country is built on, the ways that all the national myths are lies, and how all the saints of the civic religion were monsters to one degree or another – this can come in a flavor of either righteous anger or, like, intellectual sport. And then on the other end you have the, well, Matt Yglesiases of the world. Who don’t really argue any of the points of fact, but do kind of roll their eyes at the whole exercise and say that sure, but Mom and Apple Pie and the American Way are still popular, and if you’re trying to win power in a democracy telling the majority of the population that their most cherished beliefs are both stupid and evil isn’t a great move.

Anyway, a couple weeks back Deveraux posted an essay for the 4th of July (which I don’t totally buy, but is an interesting read) about why the reason American nationalism is so intensely bundled up into a couple pieces of paper and maybe a dozen personalities is precisely because it isn’t a nation at all. Basically, his thesis is that in proper nation-states like England or the Netherlands or wherever, there really is a core population that is the overwhelming demographic majority and really have lived in more or less the same places since time immemorial, and that once the enthographers and mythologists finish their work, all those people really do identify with both the same nation and the same state as its expression. America, by contrast, is by virtue of being a settler nation whose citizenry was filled by waves of immigrants from all the ass ends of Eurasia in a historical eyeblink, even before you add in the native population and descendants of slaves lacks any single core ethnicity that is anywhere close to a majority, as well as any organic national traditions or claims to an ‘ancestral homeland’ that aren’t obviously absurd (and we are trying to include the descendents of slaves and the native population these days, to varying levels of success). All this to say that his point is America is a civic state, not a national one, with the identity of ‘American’ being divorced from ethnicity and instead tied to things like the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, the whole cult around the Founding Fathers, Lincoln, and [FDR and/or Reagan depending on your politics].

Which, like I said, don’t totally buy, but interesting. (to a degree he overstates how homogenus ‘actual’ nation-states are, he makes America sound very special but if his analysis holds that it’d presumably also apply to several other former settler colonies, in the American context there’s a fairly solid case to be made that the whole ‘nation of immigrants’ story and the racial identity of whiteness were constructed to function as an erratz national ethnicity, with incredible success, etc, etc).

But anyway, if we accept that the American identity is bound up in its civic religion and the mythologized version of its political history, it’s absolutely the case that there’s several segments of the left who take incredibly joy in tearing said civic religion and national mythology apart and dragging whatever’s left through the mud. I mean, hell, I do! (reminder: any politician whose ever had a statue dedicated to them was probably a monster). And, well, call it a greater awareness of historical crimes and injustice, or the postmodern disdain for idols and systems leaking out through the increasingly college-educated populace, or the liquid acid of modernity dissolving away all unchosen identities, or a Marxist cabal undermining the national spirit to pave the way for the Revolution or whatever you like, but in whichever case, that critical discourse is certainly much more prominent and influential among left and liberal media and politics types that is was in decades past.

And, okay, so I finished Martyn Rady’s The Hapsburgs a few days ago. And I mentioned as I was reading it that the chapters on the 19th and 20th centuries reminded me quite a bit of courses I’d taken in school on the late Ottoman Empire and Soviet Union. Because all three are multi/non-national states (Empires, in Deveraux’s terminology, though that’s varying degrees of questionable for each, I think. Moreso for the Hapsburgs than the rest) who outlasted their own ideological legitimacy. And in all three cases it just, well, it didn’t not matter, but even as all the ceremonies got more absurd and farcical  and the politics more consumed by inertia punctuated with crises, things kept limping along just fine for decades. Even in the face of intense crisis, dissolution wasn’t inevitable. (The Ottomans are a less central example here, admittedly, precisely because of the late attempt to recenter the empire on Turkish nationalism. But even then, more Arab soldiers fought for the Sultan-Caliph than ever did for the Hashemites, and most prewar Arab nationalism was either purely cultural or imagined the Empire reformed into a binational federation, not dissolved).

But as Rady says in the book – losing WW1 crippled Germany, it dissolved Austria-Hungary. And in all three cases, as soon as they were gone, the idea of bringing them back instantly became at least a bit absurd.

And okay, to now pivot to talking about where I actually live but about whose politics I (shamefully) know significantly less than America’s. I mean, maybe it’s because most of my history education from public school was given by either pinko commies or liberals still high off ‘90s one-world universalism, or maybe it’s just a matter of social class, but I really can’t remember ever having taken the whole wannabe civic religion of Canada seriously (the only even serious attempt at sacredness I recall was for Remembrance Day). Even today, the main things I remember about our Founding Father is that he was an alcoholic who lost power in a railroad corruption scandal.

Really, in all my experience the only unifying threads of national/particular Canadian identity are a flag, a healthcare system, those Canadian Heritage Minute propaganda ads, a bill of rights from the ‘60s, and an overpowering sense of polite smugness towards the States.

And that last one (or, at least, the generally rose-colored ‘Canada is the good one’ view of history) is taking something of a beating, on account of all the mass graves really rubbing the public’s noses in the whole genocide thing. At least among big segments of the intellectual and activist classes, most of the symbols of Canadian nationhood are necessarily becoming illegitimate as Canada is, in fact, a project of genocidal settle colonialism.

But it really is just purely symbolic. Most of the municipalities who cancelled their Canada Day celebrations are going to elect Liberal MPs and help give our Natural Governing Party its majority in the next election, no one of any significance has actually challenged the authority of the civil service or the courts. And, frankly, most of the people who are loudly skeptical of all the symbols of the nations are also the ones whose political projects most heavily rely on an efficient and powerful state bureaucracy to carry out.

(This is leaving aside Quebec, which very much does have a live national identity insofar as the vigorous protection of national symbols is what wins provincial elections. If I felt like doing research and/or reaching more there’s probably something there on how pro-independence sentiment has largely simmered down at a pace with the decline of attempts to impose a national Canadian identity).

I mean, Canada does have rather more of a base for a ‘national’ population core than the US (especially if you’re generous and count the people who mark French on the census as a core population as well). At the same time, no one really expects this to continue to be the case – even back in Junior High, I remember one of the hand outs we got explaining that due to declining fertility most or all future population growth would come from immigration (I remember being confused when my mother was weirdly uncomfortable with the idea when it came up). I suppose our government gets credit for managing public opinion such that anti-immigration backlash hasn’t taken over the political conversation. Which you’d think would be a low bar but, well.

But anyway, to try and begin wrapping this rambling mess up – it does rather feel like Rady’s portrayal of the late Hapsburg empire might have a few passing similarities to the future of Canada. A multinational state whose constitution and political system and built on foundations and legitimized by history that no one actually believes in anymore, or at least no more than they have to pretend to to justify the positions they hold, but persisting because it’s convenient and it’s there and any alternatives are really only going to seem practical after a complete economic collapse or apocalyptic war. (Though our civil service is a Josephist’s dream by comparison, really.)

Or maybe I’m premature, and the dominant culture will just be incredibly effective at assimilating immigrants into that civic identity. Anecdotally, the only people I know who are at all enthusiastic about Canada as an idea are first generation immigrants. I could certainly just be projecting, really – I’ve never really been able to get all that invested in the nation-state as an idea of more moral power than ‘a convenient administrative division of humanity’, and certainly liberating ourselves form the need to defend the past would certainly rectifying certain injustices easier.  

Or maybe I’m just being incredibly optimistic. Half the economy’s resource extraction and the other half’s real estate, so decent odds the entire place just literally goes up in flames over the next few decades. BC’s already well on its way.

[alexseanchai]

Fanfic 2020 in Review

I got tagged by @kasienda @noirshitsuji and @marvelousmsmol and I am tagging whoever wants to play!

1) List of fics completed this year in the order they were finished:

*filters own works to complete and updated in 2020*

1 - 20 of 57 Works by AlexSeanchai

nope. *adds filter to include only works of at least 1000 words*

unless otherwise indicated, these are all Miraculous Ladybug:

“don’t bake it lying down”, post-reveal Marichat vs Felix Graham de Vanily

“veracity”, canon divergence from “Ladybug” featuring Mister Bug and Verity Queen (so also Marichat, I guess)

“(no request is too extreme, if) your heart is in your dream”, in which Hawkmoth wins, for the thirty seconds or so before Emilie saves Ladybug and Chat Noir’s lives

“tell me you love me and make me believe it”, in which trans girl Chatonne Noire ropes Ladybug into helping plan her civilian self’s escape slash social transition

“kingmaker, oathbreaker”, in which Hawkmoth wins and Emilie watches her son remove himself from the family

“stay and let me watch you break it down” (Twelve Dancing Princesses), a modern setting

“set a course for winds of fortune”, in which trans girl Chatonne Noire has already escaped and Gabriel and Nathalie are trying to bring Gabriel’s son home

“we ground love in a hopeless place”, in which post-reveal Marinette’s attempt to remain resolutely not in love with her partner dissolves like sugar in coffee when they start a pun war

“ring the bells that still can ring”, in which Alya is deeply confused about why Adrien and Marinette are planning a wedding when last night both were single

“burning wishes at both ends (the cold wind and long loud wail remix)”, in which Gabriel made a monkey’s paw wish and Emilie makes another

“words cannot espresso”, in which Marinette’s OC roommate is justifiably worried for Marinette’s safety, and meanwhile Adrien takes care of Marinette

“the compromise of truth” (the chronologically second-earliest part posted to date of nine lives, snake’s eyes), in which Adrien tells his friends how he won some freedom and respect from his father

“At The Present Time”, the Ladrien/Ladynoir marriage proposal follow-up to @art-deco-shrimp‘s  “Your Presents Required”

“j'ai rêvé (so I don't have to dream alone)”, in which the events of canon must just have been a series of dream sequences, Marinette and Adrien both think, until they both arrive at Chloe’s Halloween masquerade dressed as themselves from the dreams

2) Number of words written:

ahahaha no. I am not counting all my scattered fic drafts and trying to figure out what I did and didn’t write in 2020. I refuse.

AO3 says I posted 162K in 2020. it is counting all of keeps you guessing (like any real love), which (a) I started posting in 2019 (b) is co-written by @galahadwilder​; it is counting all of my meta snippets collection, much of which was written in 2019; it is counting the Vimeo passwords for my vids. but I probably cleared 150K by a safe margin.

3) Your most popular fic:

“veracity” has a four-digit kudos count, wow, when’d that happen? this is also the 2020 work with the most hits and the most bookmarks, but “tell me you love me” has four-thirds as many comments as its nearest competitor.

4) Your personal fav:

“cannot break us, not with a thousand swords”, no question about it. this is the one in which Ladybug proposes marriage to Chat Noir via Princess Bride meme on Tumblr. (if you intend to download the work or otherwise to consume it with creator style off, you want the accessible version instead of the primary version.)

5) Your fav scene:

aaaaaaaaa

—okay so this is cheating and I know it, since Uncertain Humors (the one where Marinette/Adrien is both Orpheus/Eurydice and Theseus/Ariadne) is nowhere near finished, never mind posted (maybe I'll get “Sanguine” done to post on my birthday?)

but it is still my favorite of the year. as you might guess from that description of the story, this scene has content notes for character death:

Hell is a maze. Marinette walks.

This acrid passage has little to see but damp stone, seeming blood-stained in the dim carmine light. At about the height of her heart, the faintly glowing thread cuts through the not-clammy air; it ought to be pulsing at the same rate as the heart it's bound to. She might be able to see her own reflection if she looked down at the open sewage pipe, or at one of the puddles that now and again she splashes through, dampening the canvas of her shoes. She might see reflected what's behind her.

She remembers Mme. Mendeleiev lecturing on human physiology. In healthy humans old enough to have learned how, urination is a voluntary action: one may not know which muscles one tenses and relaxes in order to do so, and probably isn't paying attention to those details when one is doing, but one has conscious control over whether one does. Usually. Stress and anxiety mean some people are unable to relax the relevant sphincter muscle and others are unable to stop themselves. It's voluntary for cats, too: it's one way they mark their territories. Cat-boys have other ways.

There is a moment in every human life when all one's muscles relax at once. Some Parisians have had several such moments.

The thread is braided with itself around her left fourth finger, rows of tiny red half-hitch knots, and falls loosely over the back of her hand to loop twice around her wrist. She holds it wrapped between the fingers of her right hand to keep it at a constant tension, as though knitting with this insubstantial thread, so fragile for something two (two dozen, two million) lives hang from—too thin to sew with, no thicker than one strand of his hair. As she walks, she winds it around and around and around her wrist.

Between her ring finger and her right hand, it loops twice.

Marinette's shoe lands in a puddle she didn't see. The rainwater splashes soundlessly onto her bare ankle and on the stone.

(With cat-like tread, upon our prey we steal— It's a very loud song.)

She walks on.

6) A fic or scene that challenged you:

where the firelight fades, no contest. this is the second story I’ve ever been able to stick with more than a couple hundred words past the 20K mark, but it’s easily the twentieth novel-length I’ve begun. (though also, you know that kedreeva post? well, 90K later, I’m less than 15K from completing this 10K fic! I think.) and I have been learning so much about long-form fiction.

there has also been a lot of weeping and tearing my hair. case in point: I just trashed the chapter 15 draft because I figured out the reason it wasn’t going anywhere! I can probably keep the first few hundred words of that draft without any editing, and another few hundred with some revision...

7) A line of writing you’re proud of:

from “j'ai rêvé (so I don't have to dream alone)”:

Everything about their partnership is fragments of sentences in the dream diary Adrien writes in ultraviolet pen. Disjointed flickers of thought even when examined under the black light he hides in the snack cabinet under packets of Super Yoyo sandwich cookies and bags of cheesy Monster Munch potato chips and boxes of petit écolier butter cookies (chocolat noir)—none of which explains the gym-socks smell. All fleeting incoherent flashes, invisible between the mundane lines of La Modification shelved at his bedside between Leroux and Dumas. None of it is solid. Adrien has more proof his room's haunted.

okay let me break this down for you!

* Adrien started a dream diary to make sense of the memories

* in invisible ink, in a book that (according to Wikipedia) is thematically appropriate and won’t (if Gabriel sees it) look like anything other than Adrien developing an interest in French literature

* shelved between Phantom of the Opera and The Three Musketeers

* look I didn’t come up with the name “black light”

* or “chocolat noir” for what English speakers call “dark chocolate”, or “petit écolier” (that is, “little schoolboy”) for that sort of butter cookie

* also not my fault that “chocolat noir” sounds remarkably like “Chat Noir”, which, attentive readers may have noticed, is not a name that appears in the story after the header and before Miraculous Cure

* I found the website of a store in Boston, Massachusetts that caters to French expats, and the yo-yo cookies and the monster chips were right there in the photos, y’all

* the snack stash and the black light live in the cabinet where, in canon, the Camembert lives; yes, that cheese smells in the real world like gym socks

* this story’s akuma was not able to affect anything but squishy human memory: nobody affected remembers anything about Ladybug or Chat Noir or Hawkmoth, not in any solid way, not even when they read news articles about the subject, and this includes Marinette and Adrien not being able to see or hear or remember their own kwamis—but you know what Adrien’s Insta post about his poltergeist and Adrien’s Insta post with the floating sock don’t show and don’t explicitly refer to?

* I love this paragraph so much (my housemates may have been lovingly mocking me over it)

8) A comment that touched you:

there are people (y’all know who you are) who said y’all are studying my style. I ded of blush.

9) Something that inspired your writing:

by volume of fic drafts that can be blamed on any particular person, the winner is probably @norakwami​

10) Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc):

so that longest-story-ever-written record I set in 2007 with the 89.5K story that, till where the firelight fades, was the only story I’d gotten much past 20K?

I broke that fucking record!

and then I deleted the draft of firelight chapter 15 😭

11) Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

I’m starting work on a fantasy novel, a Sleeping Beauty retelling in which I explore (among other things) the economic consequences of the king’s ordering all the spinning wheels burned, and I want to make significant progress on that. and I want to not make my hands any worse; I kind of need those!

(breaking news alert: bodies fucking suck. so does giving yourself repetitive stress injuries in doing one and a half to two people’s worth of work for an organization that was never ever going to pay you more than one person’s worth of pay.)

[tailorvizsla]

A Proper Mandalorian Courtship - Chapter 1

Title: The Armorer and an Introduction Word Count: ~2350 Pairing: Paz x Reader Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Cursing, canon-typical violence, crack humor that’s also serious Summary: 

Mandalorian courtship is very simple: declare your interest in someone, spend time together if they reciprocate, and get married after a year or so. Getting married is even easier – simply swap the vows and announce it a few days later to the Tribe so you can all celebrate the happy news. Then spend the next few months fending off the nosy Elders (who all want to know when they can expect to hear more little feet on the ground). At the end of it all, Mandalorians court the same way the rest of the galaxy does.

Except for Paz Vizla. Despite his Traditionalist background, he goes about this courtship and marriage business in a very nontraditional way...a very, very, very nontraditional way. This can also be found at AO3. Chapters: 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

📚 My Master List 📚 Author’s Notes:

This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter story in a very long time. 

I’ve been working on this since February. It’s been finished for a few weeks now, but I’ve been procrastinating in posting because I have had such a hard time justifying why Paz behaves the way he does even though we only see him for like 3 seconds in the series. I’m not sure if anyone else does this, but I like having a reason to write a story, even if it’s just to get the fluff out. For this, I wanted to flesh out Paz’s character for future works, but I have had such a hard time figuring out the words for it that I just...didn’t post. It felt wrong to continue forward without being able to explain to myself why he does what he does. Something that @plexflexico said in one of their responses to a review I left resonated with me and finally inspired me to post this publicly.

“Paz might have had less than a minute of screen time, but that time was VERY enlightening because both scenes were at moments of great tension and high emotion. I felt that any man who could succinctly put his people’s plight into words, and was so angry over this betrayal by someone who should have known better that there was no way this was simply a brute. This is a man who thinks and feels, deeply.”

This. This is exactly what I couldn’t find the words for. This, to me, is Paz Vizla. I have seen stories/HCs that portray him as a brute in an attempt to show him as a strong, confident, and masculine character. I am not fond of that portrayal because it lacks depth. I don't see that from a man whose culture embraces competency and skill before gender or sex. For those of you who have not read Asterism, go do it now, I promise you will love every single word. @plexflexico perfectly captures every emotion and thought of each scene just perfectly. This is Grade Amazing Super Plus Rank writing and Plex deserves an award for their work. And also for the inspiration because her Paz is the man everyone who wants a man deserves to have in their life.

The Foundry is the most sacred place for any Tribe blessed enough to have one of its own. It is the physical manifestation of the Resol'nare: education and armor, self-defense, the tribe, the language, and the leader. Here, children and new recruits receive their first set of beskar'gam and swear their oaths to follow the path, making the Foundry the spiritual birthplace of every member of the Tribe.

At night, when the work is finished, and the flames are dimmed, the young and old gather within so they may learn from and educate one another. Most importantly, this is where most individuals begin their first lessons in Mando'a, under the guidance of the Elders. The foundry is where the armaments are made and dispensed for the protection of each person and the Tribe as a whole. When a hunter returns with their offerings, they return to the Foundry, and disperse it to those who depend upon them for sustenance and care. Finally, the Foundry serves as a place for the leadership to gather.

Armorer has had the distinct honor and privilege of being both armorer and leader to her people for many years, though she is now only the armorer for the tribe. Upon joining with tribe Marell, she relinquished her role as the Alor. However, the respect and authority she commands is not diminished in any capacity. Should Alor Dezha not be available to decide on a course of action, the Tribe will come to her, and her decision will be both supported and respected. Dezha respects her a great deal, and he will often seek her opinion if his path is unclear. Despite the differences in their interpretations of the Oath, they have come to live in harmony with one another. They strengthen what is weak in each other, and that is how it should be in a flourishing Tribe.

Tonight, she once more has the honor of being part of a marriage ceremony. Lifting her heavy hammer, Armorer brings it down onto the glowing ingot of metal, watching as it flattens and spreads under her blow. She continues to strike the metal with slow, methodical precision until it reaches the proper thickness. Then the Armorer takes it back to the flame, where she allows it to glow blazing white. It only takes a few moments, and she returns it to the anvil. The steady clang clang of her hammer is punctuated only by the occasional trip to the flames.

The union of two Mandalorians in marriage is – and always has been – a joyous occasion, for that union brings forth stability for the children and the Tribe. Traditionally, the parents take turns hunting, or if the Tribe has the numbers, both parents will hunt together, and leave their children in the care of the rest of the family. Having that one trusted person, the one who knows their every strength and weakness by their side, leads to success, both in the field and at home.

She pauses once more to check the ingot. When she sees it is properly folded, she divides it in half, and begins to form each blade precisely with her smaller hammer. Two Mandalorians, forged into one soul and body by marriage, whether they are together, or they are apart. Two blades, made from a single piece of steel, to symbolize that union. When they are formed to her satisfaction, she takes the blades to the oil vat and quenches them, a satisfying hiss escaping the bubbling liquid.

Then she returns to the forge, narrowing one of the flames to begin the differential tempering process. Here, the tang and the edges of the blades will be hardened to resist shattering, yet the spines will remain flexible, so that they may flex as needed. Once joined, the couple hardens themselves to outsiders; instead, they will turn their affection and respect inward, so they may grow together. Where one is brittle, the other is flexible, and together, they become stronger than they would be individually. She withdraws the first blade from the flame just as the pale amber color creeps to the edges of the blade and plunges it directly into the water bath to cool.

It takes hours to sharpen the ceremonial blades on the grinding belts, but she works steadily and carefully, honing the edges with precision. The hilts are left bare; they will be wrapped by the parties entering the marriage. When they speak their vows, they will exchange blades, so they may carry a piece of the other with them when they are physically parted. She nestles the blades into separate boxes lined with soft fabric. When she delivers the blades tonight, the newlyweds will handle the rest on their own. Armorer lowers the heat of the flame before she returns to her quarters. There she draws the curtain across her living space. Exhaling, she takes a seat at her low table with a pot of hot tea to await being summoned by the Elders to acknowledge the vows. Her shoulders are tense and tight. It is a good sign of hard work.

It has been many years since she has witnessed a proper Mandalorian courtship unfold and blossom into marriage. The Armorer has known from the start that Paz would be the one to fully embrace the traditional ways. Now, he has chosen to make himself an example to the younger Mandalorians and enter the bonds of matrimony. Her heart swells with pride as she imagines the future progeny they will gift to the Tribe, whether they are born or found. However, she takes the time to close her eyes and pray to the spirits. The newlyweds will need guidance.

Hopefully, the wedding night will not result in nearly as much structural damage as the courtship had.

-

-

-

The first time Paz ever laid eyes upon you was shortly after the Armorer had finished negotiations to join with yours. It took nearly three weeks of negotiations, but your Tribe had ultimately yielded. No sane alor would turn away a dozen Hunters and their children, anyway. Paz admits that he did not find you all that impressive at first. You were – and still are - pretty average. Your armor at the time consisted of a bes’kar helmet and a steel chestplate that looked like the Armorer’s. Everything else was made of leather.

Tradesperson, he thought to himself, and he put you out of his mind.

As time went on, Paz came to like you, and even enjoy spending a few minutes with you here and there as his duties allowed. Even though you openly admitted that were an average warrior (at best), you did your job freakishly well. You had made your desire for a large family vocal, and that, combined with your skills, had caught the attention of several Hunters visiting to deliver the latest news. According to the Elders, the offers of marriage had come flooding in the instant you completed your first hunt, even though you hadn’t completed it until your twenty-third birthday.

When the average Mandalorian completed their first hunt by their nineteenth.

And Paz completed his on his seventeenth.

It didn’t take long for him to understand how you earned the loving-yet-frighteningly-accurate nickname shu’shika from the Tribe – you truly are a tiny disaster. You are dearly loved by your Tribe, but there is a tendency for things to break while you are around.

You are stubborn to a fault. That Paz can deal with. Over the past thirty or so years, he has had plenty of practice to out-stubborn his subordinates, and he always wins. The same holds true with his bounties. With you? There have been a few situations where he has come dangerously close to cracking and losing his temper. It is only your terrible self-defense skills and his affection for you that keep him from simply putting you in a headlock until you submit.

Paz sometimes wonders if you provoke him on purpose because you know he will not throw fists with someone who lacks proper training. He takes no pleasure in winning a fight if it was never a true fight to begin with.

Far too often, you get mouthy with him, to the point where he sometimes wants to grab you around the waist and launch you straight into the lake for being such a brat. You are never truly disrespectful, but you have no problem telling him what you think. Even when he does not ask for your opinion. He does, however, appreciate your honesty with him, since others are usually too intimidated by him to be as direct as you.

You’re kriffing fearless, to the point of recklessness. His threats to launch you into the lake have gone from true threats to playful teasing, and it always earns a laugh from you.

Your forgetfulness…it is truly obnoxious. At this point, he has stopped reminding you to pick up your shit. He has grown used to simply picking up your things off the floor (or the couch, or the tables, or the showers), stuffing them in a bag, and dumping it all on your table in the workshop. Just like everyone else in the Tribe does for you. Or, if he wants to see you, he will pocket your datapad until you come wandering into the common areas, and hand it over without a word. It never ceases to amaze you that Paz somehow seems to know exactly what you are looking for.

Paz has no doubts that if you ever set your bucket down, you will lose it. He kind of finds it endearing. But only from you. He has no problems holding armor, weapons, or personal property for ransom if some idiot leaves it unattended.

If there is even a single power cable in a wide-open room, you will invariably find it and trip over it. Stairs have to be clearly marked with vibrant tape to remind you of their existence even though they’ve been there for ten kriffing years. Your navigational skills are nonexistent. It is all Paz can do to refrain from simply attaching a tracker to your backside to keep you from getting lost whenever someone takes you to the market.

The first time he had taken you to the market, he lost you within forty-eight seconds. He panicked the entire time he looked for you. Fortunately, he found you trying to dig enough money out of your bag to buy some ice cream, with no regards as to how you were going to eat the kriffing ice cream with a damn bucket on your head.

Sometimes, Paz feels like his relationship with you is going to give him a full head of grey hair before his fiftieth birthday. But he thinks you are the most beautiful disaster he has ever seen in his life.

You get his dumb jokes and laugh at his silly puns. You let him steal the end pieces of the bread when you bake. You try so damn hard to improve your hand-to-hand combat skills, even when Doctor Shen threatens to tie you to a bed to keep you from hurting yourself. You turn to him first when you want to learn a new technique. You play hunters-and-prey with the children for hours, like you don’t care that the others are grumbling about you spoiling the kids. You listen to him ramble about whatever random topic he has picked up that week, and while you may not know anything about it, you ask questions and take the time to learn more about what makes him happy. You even offer to share your tiingilar with him, even when you only have a quarter ration of it.

He has spent most of his forty-four years alone in life. His eight-year relationship had ended exactly ten years ago when his partner chose to commit adultery. He was on the verge of proposing marriage when he caught them in his bed. Neither had been wearing their helmet. It was a privilege his partner had never granted him, even after nearly a decade together. After that gut-wrenching betrayal, something had shattered in him. Paz invested himself in his work fervently, his bitterness turning him away from the possibility of a long-term relationship. Now that he is older and wiser, he feels a sort of emptiness to his days. Like his successes mean nothing without having someone to share them with. He wants someone there to encourage and support him in his hunts. Someone who is not as cynical and burnt out from the constant threat of death and war. Someone who still has that shereshoya – that Mandalorian lust for each new day and every experience that it brings. That brightness in your soul draws him to you like a moth to the flame. It is your hidden gentility that has him so happily trapped in your orbit.

He wants to make you strong where you are weak.

He wants you to make him strong where he is weak.

Seeing you waiting for him at the shooting range brings a spring to his step. Hearing your laughter at one of his awful jokes makes him glad he wears a helmet so no one can see the ridiculous grin on his face. Smelling the sweet, flowery soap that you use makes his knees go all wobbly, though he’s not sure if it’s from affection or just from age. Just feeling your hand brush up against his makes him turn into a sweaty, flushed mess.

Paz Vizla feels like he’s strapped to the wing of a TIE fighter spinning out of control as it plummets to the ground below, or something like a fully-grown rath’tar has wrapped itself around his heart to squeeze. His belly is jam-packed with spice-crazed minochs and his heart is pounding wildly. When he thinks about kissing you one day, maybe just gently pressing his helmet against yours, his heart gets so full he can barely breathe.

You make him Feel Things he has never felt before.

Paz Vizla turns into a hot kriffing mess under his armor when he is around you, and he wants off this malfunctioning jetpack.

-

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Feel free to leave comments, concerns, or critiques. I love all sorts of feedback <3

[nobody-knose--archive]

hey all, resident person who does music analysis without knowing how to do music analysis here (looking at you, mind electric post from last september with a few dozen notes), have you ever wanted a vaguely concise list of all the differences between not one, not three, but two different versions of ruler of everything? i made it regardless.

to start, i’ve got to highlight various aspects of the ruler of everything mmmm 2008 version (the reference i’m using to compare the other versions with):

-the bpm is 83

-the key is b minor (bm)

-instruments featured include various strings (violin, cello, bass, i probably can’t name them all by ear), glockenspiel, chimes, acoustic guitar, calliope, drums of course (a drumkit), a specific keyboard synth, electric guitar, bass guitar, choral vocals separate from the lyrical ones (technically not an instrument but i’m including it here for a reason), tambourine, and one more percussion instrument that i genuinely cannot name precisely but theorize is some snare-drum-with-brushes shenanigans or maybe possibly a güiro (sounds like lighting a match, you can hear it in the breakdown part).

-the song is 3:42 long, not counting 13, which is, of course, 13 seconds long

-approximately 32 seconds of it is the outro with only glockenspiel

-notable situations in which there are differences between audio channels include the intro, where the glockenspiel is mostly, but not entirely, stored within the left channel; the reversed cymbals leading into the second verse, where two separate cymbal tones are played in each channel, with very little overlap; the “aaah”s following the first verse of “ruler of everything”, where the sounds switch between coming mostly, but not entirely, in the left & right channels; the reversed “jackrabbit” line, where the sound starts on the right channel and ends in the left, never entirely in only one channel; the laughter immediately following the “wonderful life” verse, which pans between the left & right channels; during the bridge, where there are some backwards vocals that hang out greatly in the left channel and, to a lesser (& different) extent, the right; the final “smile” at the end of the bridge, which echoes between channels as it fades away; and the final choral vocal during the outro, which emanates more from the left channel, though it is still present in the right.

-miscellaneous points in which there are differences between audio channels include, in about the entirety of the “do you like how i dance?” verses, guitar power chords are heard primarily in the left some bowed string flairs come primarily in the right or left (i would guess there’s a cello part in the right & a normal violin part in the left, but i can’t name them by ear), and there’s an electric guitar riff that dwindles off in the left shortly before the breakdown/bridge. during the bridge there is the aforementioned weird percussion bit coming in primarily in the left, two separate reversed synth riffs in the right & left, and another electric guitar riff primarily in the left. during the final chorus, the vocoded (a la taken for a ride 05 ver) and deeper vocals are more present in the right channel than the left & vice versa, respectively, though neither is fully absent from the other.

now that we’ve got this out of the way, time to look at the 2005 release:

-right off the bat, there’s a couple key differences. the key itself is raised up half a semitone, which less places it in a different key & more makes it sound horrendously out of tune with the 08 release. the tempo is also slightly faster, despite its longer length of 4:17 (about 1:10 of which is the glockenspiel-solo outro, about 22 seconds of which is silence covering up the existence of hidden in the sand, with the following 19 seconds being ocean sfx that further lead into hidden in the sand). i’d place the tempo around 85 or 86 bpm, not a significant change, but enough to offset it from the 08 ver.

-instruments featured include- with those that appear in both the 08 & 05 versions in bold, and those that only appear in this version in italics- various strings (i’d wager the same ones as in 08), glockenspiel, calliope, acoustic guitar, real bells/chimes, a specific keyboard synth, a drumkit, acoustic guitar, bass guitar, choral vocals separate from the lyrical ones, that same unnamed percussion instrument from earlier (but more subdued), and tambourine.

boy, that sure is a lot of the same instruments isn’t it? time to move into the meat of the differences: musical shenanigans!

-for starters, the 05 ver sports many different mixes between audio channels from the 08 ver. the intro glockenspiel is located squarely in the left audio channel, leaving only an echo in the right (far less space in between than the 08 ver); the reversed cymbals are mixed together in both channels rather than separated; the calliope is only found in the left channel; the specific keyboard synth is only found in the right channel (this & the previous point apply to the entire track); the small guitar riff during the “powerful job” line that follows the “i’ve been you” melody is mostly in the left; when the glockenspiel returns around the final verse it keeps primarily to the right channel for the rest of the song; the wonky percussion instrument is only in the right channel for the first go of the breakdown, but switches to the left for the transition between the two; the electric guitar riff is far less relegated to only the left, if at all; the reverse tambourine during the transition to the other half of the breakdown is mostly in the right; and the cello (i think) that comes in before the final chorus emanates more from the left channel.

-concerning the vocals in particular for the audio channels, the gentle “ah-ah”s in the first verse move from the left to right channels; the “aaah”s following the first lines of ruler of everything are less concentrated in individual audio channels; the reversed “jackrabbit” line pans between channels more than once; zubin & joe’s vocals across their verses before the breakdown do various things such as taking place entirely within the left & right channels respectively, only having a line’s echo in the one channel, having two different audio distortions/harmonies of a line be in different channels, or having a distorting line pan between channels; the laughter immediately following the “wonderful life” verse is mostly found in the right audio channel; the vocalize following the “you’re making me cry” line is mostly in the left; the falsetto harmony in the following verse is mainly in the right; one deeper, distorted harmony in the intro to the breakdown is only in the left; the final “smile” at the end of the breakdown keeps more closely to each ear as it echoes between them; the deeper and vocoded distorted vocals during the final chorus are fully relegated to the left & right channels, respectively; the “aaah”s following the final lines of ruler of everything switch between coming primarily from the right & left channels; and the echo on the final line is, in one part, offset & in primarily the left channel, and in another part, distorted & primarily in the right channel.

boy oh boy! that sure is a lot isn’t it? what if i told you the part i’m going to cover next includes literally everything else. not being a trained musician, i at the very least won’t start by pointing out every subtle difference in mixing & mastering, and instead catalogue all the other changes i can pick up on. granted, i’m going to ignore the obvious things like sound quality, alternative harmonies/melodies/etc, and different samples, and i’ll try not to restate anything that can be gleaned from comparing the data further up this post

-assorted differences of note include generally greater acoustic guitar use (notably in the first verse), amplified reverb on too many lines to count (the “aaah”s, first verse, and zubin’s lines are notable at least), drastically reduced echo on the reversed “jackrabbit” line, a complete lack of vocal distortion on all of zubin’s lines, far quieter hi-hat from the “practice your mannerisms” line on to the next verse, the chime in the buildup to the breakdown is louder & holds for longer, there’s no glockenspiel immediately following the breakdown, and a far stronger echo placed on the final line.

is this it? is it the end? good question. i could very easily move on & do this all over again with the complete demos version, if anybody cares about that. but from my own point of view, i find that ver to be so different from the finished product that it’d be like comparing a song and a cover of it. anyway, if the tally hallmanac page for ruler of everything gets updated based on all the work i did i want to be cited. the wikia gets a pass though

[cloudywriter]

i never got to say i love you - 2

~~~

A/N: heyy i wanted to update vanilla pudding cups but i’ve really kinda hit a block in that story so enjoy this while i move pass my stump with the other story. also i’m working on some masterlist so navigating stories will be easier!

masterlist & AO3 

also here’s my other feysand au if you would like to check that out! -> vanilla pudding cups

~~~

As classes begin to start up Feyre finds herself adjusting well to her new schedule. Most days she has one or two classes in the morning and one or two in the afternoon. Alis almost always brings her some lunch or snacks as she spends every free moment she has in the studio. If it weren’t for Alis she’s convinced she might’ve accidentally starved to death by now. 

Honestly, Feyre hadn’t made many friends besides Alis who she had grown pretty close with. She had brief conversations with Mor in the hallways and had eventually met her roommate, Viviane, but most of the time she saw Mor outside of the dorm building she was with that group of boys from the dining hall. Yes, the same group of boys Alis still managed to bring up every other day, especially when they’d first seen Mor walking with them very comfortably. Alis was convinced Mor would be their way in. 

What Feyre had never told Alis was a week ago Mor had invited them to come play monopoly in her dorm one Friday night with said boys, Viviane, and her boyfriend, Kallias. Feyre had declined. 

Mor is always extremely sweet and a constant ray of sunshine but so much so it unnerved Feyre a bit, she could easily turn into one of those girls Feyre avoided like the plague in high school. Viviane is similar, but a bit more subdued, however Mor was completely right about her being with her boyfriend more often than not. 

At the moment Feyre was making her way back from her last class of the day to her dorm, mentally preparing herself to pull an all-nighter. She had an assignment due for her drawing class that she had been putting off for weeks until the due date had crept up on her. Therefore, Feyre now had approximately 12 hours to draw an entire portrait. Mostly she had procrastinated up until this point because she just had no idea who she wanted to draw and her options were already limited.

When she finally arrived at her dorm room, having stopped at the vending machine for snacks on the way, she pushed the door open, threw her bag on her bed, and slumped in her desk chair, letting out a loud sigh. 

She was hunched over her sketchbook feeling utterly defeated only a few hours later. The sun was beginning to set which had her hopeful, usually she did her best work in the dead of night anyway. But her fingers ached from gripping her pencil so long and she wasn’t sure she could sit up straight without an immense pain flaring in her back, even her neck and shoulders felt stiff. Not to mention, her efforts only produced a half dozen crumpled balls in the trash and a mound of eraser shreds. 

Luckily, Feyre started to get her rhythm back as the night progressed, it was dark out now the only lights coming from the city buildings surrounding the campus. Alis had yet to return which she found a little odd but it was safe to assume she was studying late in the library. 

Unluckily though, the dorm next to her, Mor’s dorm, was getting increasingly noisy with the darkening sky. The constant sound of muffled voices, laughing, and music poured through the wall. 

Feyre was about halfway done with her portrait which had turned into a drawing of Alis, it had started coming together nicely but the added distraction of all the commotion next door was throwing her off her game. She’d been debating with herself for half an hour now whether or not she should say something to Mor; she knew Mor would probably tone it down if she asked. 

At last, nearly two hours later, Feyre was at her absolute breaking point. She hadn’t made much of a dent in the rest of her sketch throughout those hours due to the ever growing disruptions. How Mor had not gotten a noise complaint yet she did not know. The music was louder, the voices went back and forward between intense bickering and cheering, and even random slamming sounds could be heard every once in a while. 

Feyre tried desperately to tune out her surroundings but just as she was finding success a loud banging on the wall followed by yelling brought her right back. She groaned, burying her face in her hands.

Before her mind even processed what her body was doing Feyre found herself outside of Mor’s door knocking with intent. She heard a frenzy of shushing and the music turned down a few notches. 

The door then swung open.

“Hey, sorry - oh, you’re not the RA.”

A hulk of a man stood in the doorway dressed in a tight black t-shirt and batman pajama pants. The man flashed her a big shit-eating grin. Feyre thought there was something familiar about him.

“What brings you around here, sweetheart?” He added, leaning against the door.

That’s when the familiarity donned on Feyre. He was one of the boys from the dining hall, specifically the one who had half his hair up. She also then realized it was in fact Friday night, game night for them.

She had yet to respond to the boy but made herself look up to meet his gaze, making sure she had her best scowl on. He was quite tall.

“You look cute when you’re trying to look angry.” He smirked at her. His eyes dragged up and down her body slowly, intimately. Fuck, Feyre noticed too late she had really left her room with only a random cropped band t-shirt on, barely there baby blue shorts, mismatching socks, glasses, and her hair wrapped around itself in a ridiculously messy bun with only a chunky wool beige cardigan thrown over herself. 

“I’m not cute.”

“I beg to differ, sweetheart.” He winked at her.

“Don’t call me that,” Feyre ground out.

“Sure, I can switch up pet names. What would you rather instead?” He raised his brows at her in question. 

Before Feyre could stomp on his toes Mor came up from behind him, a red solo cup in hand. “Stop bothering Feyre with your incessant flirting, you brute.”

“Feyre, you say? I don’t believe we’ve met.” He spoke, not breaking eye contact with her.

“Right.” Mor opened the door wider causing the man to stumble and shoot her a glare, Mor only giggled. Now that Feyre could see inside she noticed the small foldable table set up in the center of the room and an array of uno cards scattered across the floor. “Okay, well you’ve kinda met Cassian, he’s an ass. But this is Azriel, Rhysand, and Amren,” she spoke, indicating to each person with her hand. 

Azriel gave her a small, half smile while Amren gave her a disinterested wave of the hand. 

Rhysand, however, studied her with an intense gaze that Feyre returned. She hadn’t seen the front of his face up close until now and she could not say she was disappointed whatsoever. Gods, he was like a greek god or something. He looked as if his face and body had been expertly sculpted out of the finest marble. He had black hair that was longer on top and adorably tousled, eyes that were such a specific shade of deep blue they might appear violet in some lights, and bronzed skin. Azriel and Cassian were definitely not bad on the eyes but Rhysand was just something else in her mind. It didn’t hurt he was also wearing the batman pajama bottoms.

Feyre might’ve thought he was having a similar inner monologue to her own but the harsh reality of what she was wearing right now, her bare face, and her hair’s state had her banishing that possibility. He too seemed as if he were in a bit of a daze, studying her. 

“And this guys is Feyre. She lives next door,” Mor finished off. 

Cassian gave Rhysand’s ribs a sharp jab. Rhysand looked a bit startled at first but recovered swiftly, giving Feyre a small tilt of his head in acknowledgment. “Well, it is lovely to finally meet you, Feyre,” Cassian smiled at her. 

Feyre nodded her head, still a little distracted by Rhysand. “You too, sorry for interrupting.” 

“No, no, you’re all good. I’m really sorry were we being too loud? Were you trying to sleep?” Mor asked so sweetly and genuinely Feyre almost felt bad for coming to ask her to quiet down in the first place.

“I-I no, um, it’s alright actually. Have a good night.” Feyre stammered, turning on her heel to end this embarrassing exchange. 

She heard Mor reply with the same sentiment before disappearing back into her dorm. She closed the door and leaned her head against the solid wood. 

That was not the smoothest interaction she’s ever had, that’s for sure. 

She sat back down at her desk and stared at her work before picking up her pencil once more. It was substantially quieter now, Mor must’ve known what had bothered Feyre in the first place. 

She tried to finish her sketch of Alis but her inspiration to do so had dissipated. With that, Feyre turned to the next page, letting her mind take over as her pencil flowed across the paper. She was somewhat aware of who she was now outlining but couldn’t find it in herself to stop. When she got an idea or saw something that intrigued her she had to draw it, like an itch that wouldn’t go away until it gets scratched. 

In record time a completed portrait stared back at her, more specifically Rhysand’s stupid, perfect face stared back at her. Feyre groaned and put her head in her hands.

~~~

please leave feedback & let me know if you wanna be tagged!

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Something to Uplift Us

Ao3,  MasterPost

Relationships:  Romantic DLAMPR (Roman-centric, kinda Remus-centric), platonic Creativitwins!!!

Do I like this??? Meh. Is it something that I wrote? Yes. I will heal myself from SVS-R with Fluff.

Warnings: Remus Typical Nonsense, swearing, mentions of being in Quarantine, all sympathetic sides, non-sexual Pole Dancing

Word Count: 2,667 

Roman was the essence of romance and it showed. For his entire existence, he'd been well acquainted with the hypothetical. If he were his own person, if he had a prince of his own, if he had the chance at a romantic relationship, he knew what he would do. Roman knew relationships, he always had, and it had tortured him to know that he'd never have one.

Which was why it frustrated him to no end that he hadn’t been the one to ask out his fellow sides. He’d honestly never thought that it would be an option. When he first developed his feelings for the others- Virgil, Patton, Logan, Janus, in that order- he had felt nothing more than excitement. He was giddy, he was light-headed, just to know that he could feel that way. He would spend hours daydreaming, just musing over the way they made his heart stop, but he never hoped for anything to come of it. He wasn’t sad, or mournful, or pining per se- just so caught up in the joy of feelings that he forgot that he could do something with them. 

So he thought about it a lot, suffice to say. And all he had now was time to think; it was nearly month three of quarantine. Roman had wrung his brain out like a sponge for anything new to think about- The Imagination was practically turning gray! He tried to tend to it, truly he did, but it was getting harder every day. Creativity's fellow sides had all busied themselves taking up new hobbies- Virgil was teaching Patton to draw, Janus had learnt embroidery, Logan took up knitting, Remus made trash sculptures… They all seemed to be having their own little renaissance (complete with plague), and what was Roman doing? Wasting valuable free time!

  In a fit of desperation, the artistic trait dived under his large canopy bed, rummaging around until his hand caught on the lip of a cardboard box. With no small amount of effort, he pulled the enormous container out from under his bed so that it could be properly examined. There, piled high in the box, were dozens of notebooks and sketchbooks- all of which filled to the brim with writing, drawings, and poetry. Having no clue what he was specifically looking for, Roman upended the box and watched the contents crash to the floor. Something in here would surely spark his mind! Perhaps some old work would catch his eye and inspire some redraws!

The side hadn't needed to search for long. Right at the top of the pile- bright pink, its cover dotted with puffy heart stickers- sat a large, spiral-bound sketchbook. You could almost see the light bulb pop up over Roman’s head as he squealed and snatched up the sketchbook. Flopping down onto his bed, he flipped it open in one hand and placed the other against his chest. 

“Ooh, some of my best,” he cooed to no one in particular, gaze turned to the dozens of love poems surrounded by little doodles of hearts that filled the pages. This was the journal he’d confided in before the sides had all officially begun their relationship, filled with flowery prose about anything from Janus’ scales to Patton’s smile; from Logan’s laugh to Virgil’s freckles (a rare sight, usually hidden by make-up). Roman was so lost in nostalgia that when the ideas hit him, he nearly fell out of bed in excitement at his own thoughts.

Of course! He could take all of these old writings and compose them together, into one eloquent amalgam that would illustrate perfectly all those things that he’d been unable to articulate in the beginning! And it seemed only fitting that such a soliloquy be delivered in The Imagination- in the most gorgeous scenario he could fabricate! Somewhere open to a starry sky, for his left-brained loves- but it had to have ornate architecture, of course, and it had to be cozy. Oh, it was all coming together now.

Roman leapt out of bed, posing with his hand above his head and sinking deeper into The Mindscape extravagantly. He didn’t waste time looking around at the depressing half-formed scenery, sweeping his arms up and erasing the entirety of his half of The Imagination. Time to get to work.

Remus was stretched across the Commons couch, his head in Janus’ lap and feet in Logan’s. The TV hummed with whatever show they’d thrown on as background noise, and a few feet away at the counter, Patton and Virgil were hovering over some sort of scrapbook.  Nobody had the energy for conversation; nobody had the energy for anything. 

It was magnificently boring. The Duke already filled up an entire sketchbook, written half a dozen shamelessly smutty self-insert fanfictions, constructed and subsequently destroyed eldritch beings in his room, and bothered his boyfriends. So, all that was left to do was doze.

It didn’t help Remus’ tired state that Janus was running his fingers through his hair. The monotonous waking world was finally slipping away. Maybe there was something buried in his dreams that could hold his attention.

But just before sleep took hold, a white-hot energy ran through the trait’s body, jolting him so suddenly that he tumbled off of the couch and onto the floor. His arms and legs were all pins-and-needles as he looked up at his very concerned partners.

“There’s fuckery afoot!” Remus announced, wide-eyed. He pulled himself up and grinned, “You guys stay here!” 

Without so much as a good-bye, Remus threw himself into the ground, saving himself the time of sinking out properly. After a moment’s silence, Janus resumed working on his embroidery. 

“Should we go see what that was about?” Patton asked tentatively. 

“Meh,” the three other sides responded in unison. After a moment, Janus added, “It is Remus, after all.”

Roman’s structure was coming together beautifully! Wide marble columns rose up and held aloft the glimmering silver ceiling, the middle of which was a sky-light open to thousands of stars and a brilliant full moon. Surrounding the opening was a spiral of stone roof- through the gaps of which even more astronomically accurate stars shone!

The inside of the building consisted of an immense mahogany stage, currently cloaked by thick velvet curtains and overlooking plenty of seats. Rather than traditional theater rows, Roman had arranged the seating like lovely cafe tables, all of which were given generous space from each other (Except for two at the very front, of course). Lanterns hung from the walls, casting the space in warm lighting. Creativity currently stood at the very back, thinking that it could use just a little more of something. With a smirk, the side snapped his fingers and the wall of the room was pushed backwards several yards. With a few more flicks of the wrist and dividing columns, a little lobby was formed. 

He’d given the theater room maroon carpeting and rich gray walls, but the new back section needed brighter lighting and a more cream-canary color scheme. Now he could just finish the decor!

Or he would have, if not for the fact that at that moment someone crashed into his ribs with all the grace of a flaming motorbike. 

“BRO!!!”

“ACK-!” was all Roman managed, as all the wind was knocked out of him. He glared up at his brother, who was sitting on his chest. 

“I knew you were up to something! You wiped half of the whole fucking Imagination! What is this!?” 

Roman wheezed, pushed Remus off of his chest, and finally pulled himself off the ground to catch his breath. His brother was spinning around the room already, eyes sparkling as he took in the building.

“I had to blank it, I needed my full focus,” Roman explained, back to work and filling the back wall with tall bookshelves, “and it’s a surprise, so don’t tell the others.”

“Oh, I won’t. Provided you let me in on whatever this is,” Remus had an ear-to-ear grin, bouncing on the balls of his feet. After a moment’s consideration, Roman hummed.

“I’m doing something nice for our boyfriends. I think we all could use a little pick-me-up, so do not ruin this!”

“I wanna do something nice for them! Lemme help!” 

“You don’t even know what it’s for! Plus, it’s personal!”

“I already asked what it was for, Stupid.”

Roman huffed.

“I wrote them something. Hence the stage.”

“So, what, you’re gonna bring them all into your fancy library-opera for your poetry orgy and I sit in a corner somewhere and be quiet?”

“Ideally.”

“Not a chance, Whore!” Remus swung himself up onto the concession stand that Roman had just created, tearing into a box of candy (food made in The Imagination always tasted weirder than food or ingredients they conjured elsewhere in the Mindscape, but he didn’t particularly mind). 

“Fine. What do you want to do?” Roman challenged, hands on his hips.

“I. Want. To. Help.”

Roman raised his eyebrows doubtfully. Grumbling, his twin started gesturing around the room as he spoke.

“The stars are too bright, they take the focus away from the stage instead of accenting it. The color of the curtains are too similar to the carpet. You’ve got Corinthian shit in there and bookstore lobby vibes in here, which is garbage and inconsistent.”

Roman blinked, his eyes following along with Remus’ criticism. 

“Hm. You have a point.”

“I’m Creativity too, you know. I have some taste.” The Duke said, gnawing on the cardboard box that had contained Imagination Candy moments before. 

“You’re wearing crocs and jorts, simultaneously.”

Remus waved his hand dismissively, hopping off the counter and rushing across the room.

“Whatever. Come on, I’ve got an idea how I can accompany your performance, too.”

“Oh, goody.”

Hours had past and little had changed in the Mindscape living room- Virgil and Patton had finished up their scrapbooking and were curled up together in an armchair, so Logan was sitting at the counter space previously occupied by the two and clacking away on his laptop, and Janus hadn’t moved. The muddled energy of the room had remained pervasive.

That was, until the door to the imagination slammed open, the doorknob cracking against the wall. Four heads shot up to see Remus and Roman, standing side-by-side (quite looking the part of identical twins, matching smiles and all). 

“Oh god,” Janus groaned instinctively, carefully setting his embroidery on a side table, “What did you two do?”

“Yeah, I don’t trust that look,” Virgil said.

The twins scoffed in mock-offense, continuing their odd coordination.

“We try to do something nice,” exclaimed Remus.

“And not so much as a ‘thank you,’” added Roman solemnly. Eyes were rolled, but Patton perked up considerably (just as planned). 

“Ooo, what are you talking about?” 

“It’s a surprise!” Said The Duke, bouncing up and down. Creativity Prime gave a sweeping motion to indicate the still-open door to the Imagination, which had been steadily seeping into the common room with a bright new energy that it had been lacking for days. 

“Follow us,” he instructed, disappearing through the door once more with Remus at his back. Patton bounced after them immediately, grinning. 

The three left-brained sides exchanged glances, shrugged, and followed suit. 

The twins were backstage in an instant, trusting their partners to figure out where their seats were on their own. Roman began pacing around as soon as they finished warming up. 

“Are you sure you can do this? I’m still not sure if your performance is well-suited to acoustic guitar-”

He was cut off by Remus groaning exaggeratedly.

“I can work with anything, bitch.” 

“Right, right,” There was a beat. “You’re sure you’re ready?”

“I’ve been ready. What’s going on with you?”

Rather than responding, Roman did another lap around the stage. 

“C’mon! Stop pacing before I take a bonesaw to your legs!”

“Okay! Alright! I’m ready!”

Before Remus could come up with any more gruesome threats, Roman snapped his fingers and the curtains began to rise. He took his place half-sitting on a stool up front, a guitar in his arms. Behind him, Remus stood between two sturdy metal poles that rose from the stage and into the ceiling. You can already see where this is going.

When the stage was fully revealed, the lights above the audience dimmed. Figuring that the show would be rather awkward if said audience consisted of four people, the Creativities had The Imagination render dozens of prop-people. They moved and acted like a crowd of humans, but each individual was too vague to focus on for long. Thus it was made very clear where their fellow sides were, sitting right up front with a wide array of expressions from amazed to amused to bewildered.

Roman took a moment to steel himself and then began playing. Originally, he’d planned on spoken-word for his loves, but traditionally there is music involved in pole-dancing, so he’d made a few adjustments in order for Remus to be able to contribute. 

Roman started singing, melting as the gazes of the real audience members turned awestruck (and also very flushed, likely from whatever surprisingly impressive poses his brother was pulling behind him). He liked to think that he poured his heart out into every performance, but for this one it felt quite literal. 

Roman’s voice picked up gradually, and he could vaguely hear metal clanging behind him. It went on like that for a good few minutes- because if there was one thing the Twins weren’t, it was brief- before the show finally concluded. Roman stalled for a moment as both the imaginary and real components of the audience applauded uproariously. Remus swung down from the pole and hopped over to him.

“We bow now, Dumbass,” he hissed, noticeably out of breath.

“Oh- right.”

They took hands and took a couple bows as the clapping died down, standing back up with wide grins and red faces. 

As soon as the auditorium was relatively silent, Patton rushed the stage. He outstretched his arms and hopped up and down excitedly.

“Lemme up!” 

Roman grabbed his hands and pulled him on stage while Remus was still attempting to catch his breath. Morality leaned down to give The Prince a brief kiss, and then bounced over to the much more exhausted half of the act to give him the same treatment. He was grinning so wide that it looked painful, his face a bright pink. The Duke wore a matching expression, but the smile was much more unnatural in that preferred way of his.

“So you liked it?”

Rather than verbally responding, Patton grabbed the hands of both Creativities and made a cheerful ribbiting sound.

“It was wonderful,” Logan supplied, climbing the stairs on the side of the stage to meet them, Virgil and Janus right behind him. He was much less outwardly enthusiastic as the other spectacled side, but no less appreciative.

“Yeah, did you guys put all this together today?” Virgil asked, throwing an arm around Roman’s shoulders. 

“What else did we have to do?” Remus answered with a shrug. 

“Good point.”

Janus cleared his throat lightly, immediately drawing everyone’s attention. His eyes were noticeably rimmed with redness, a small smile on his face as he outstretched all of his arms.

“Here, all of you, now.”

Patton cooed.

“Group hug!” 

Fitting six people into one hug may seem awkward, but it always seemed to work out for the sides. At least, Roman thought so. Virgil would fake exasperation at the affection, but they could all tell he loved it. Logan would try to maintain his dignity and fail miserably. Patton was a ball of warmth and energy that seeped into the rest of them. Janus was by far the best at giving hugs, though it could be considered cheating to have extra limbs.

At that moment it hit Roman that, perhaps he hadn’t started this relationship, but he was still a part of it. And that was all he could ever want.

These    Performances    inspired Remus’. They are oddly calming to watch, and super impressive!

@shrimp-crockpot

[fuckinuchihas]

hi can i please emergency request 1-3 haikyuu boys comforting their s/o who’s just really anxious. not panic attack anxious— more so just unable to function properly & unable to stop overthinking? you can choose whichever characters.. thank you. <3

I’m so sorry you’re feeling anxious and probably overwhelmed. Unfortunately I know that feeling quite well so I’m happy to do this for you and who knows, maybe I’ll even help myself out in the process! Fingers crossed!! 

For you I have a Tsukki scenario and HC’s for Yams and Kuroo! 

Tsukishima Kei

I’ve said it a thousand times but Tsukishima isn’t good at comfort, not really. He’s the first one to make a sarcastic comment or poke a stick at any insecurity he can find, but you’re not doing the thing where you fight back and it’s all banter and fun. Instead he made some remark, doesn’t even remember what he said now but one minute you were laughing and the next you were curled in on yourself and giving him some half assed attempt at a fake smile; like he wouldn’t see the difference. 

He doesn’t like it. 

He wants to apologize but he’s not really sure what he did wrong, only that something he said wasn’t as funny to you today as it has been in the past. 

“What is it? What’s with you today?” he asks, with much less of a bite to it than normal. He’s usually obnoxious and loud about it, and then teases you for spacing out. This time, his voice is much softer than you’re used to and when you glance up at him, his eyes are calculating but warm.

“Nothing, I’m-”

“No you’re not,” he says, huffing out a short breath. 

He pulls you in against his chest, softly stroking the back of your head a few times before he speaks again. “Want to try that again? This time with the truth, please.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong I’m just...I’m really overwhelmed right now. I can’t stop thinking about everything in my life falling apart,” you answer, trying to take in a deep breath of his scent. The cologne you got him for Christmas matches perfectly with his natural scent and it smells so much like comfort that the words keep spilling out. “Every little thing I do feels like a hundred step process and I pick apart each step looking for ways I can or do mess it up. Even when I finally finish something it doesn’t help. I either move onto the next thing and start stressing about that or I get caught up in how much more is left unfinished.” 

“Like what? Tell me what you have left to do, all the things that are plaguing you right now, in this moment,” he says, as if it’s simple. As if you can even get all the words out. 

You start making a list of all the things you haven’t completed, chores you haven’t done, people you haven’t contacted. It takes a few minutes but he listens patiently.

“Okay and how long would it take you to do these things if you weren’t having so much anxiety about it?” he asks, eyes curious but there’s something hiding in the warm golden gaze you’re used to. 

“I don’t know...not long probably...anyone else could have already had it done…” you say, biting your lip. 

He kisses the top of your head and shakes his while looking down at you. There’s a lot of these things that I obviously can’t do for you, but there are some I can. And until you feel better, I’ll take care of those. In the meantime...everything else can wait.” 

“WHA!WHAT?” you say, looking at him as if he’s insane. 

“It can wait.” 

“Are you….are you insane? I can’t just put off everything in my life.” 

“Yes you can.” 

“Kei I can’t-”

He pushes his lips to yours with force but only long enough to shut you up. 

“Yes, you can. I’m giving you permission. Take some time away from everything, including your thoughts. We’ll go somewhere together, have a little fun, relax...just the two of us. I know it won’t solve everything, and that the same stress and worries will be waiting on you when we get back but for now, you can leave it behind.” 

You think about it for a few minutes, it’s tempting, God is it tempting but… can you really do that? Can you just take off for an unknown destination for an unknown amount of time and just leave your whole life behind you?

“So, you coming?” he asks, holding his hand out to you with a knowing smirk. 

As if you could ever refuse him. 

Tadashi Yamaguchi

Tadashi would notice immediately that something was different. He’d let it go for a little while, thinking maybe it’s just a temporary shift in mood but your smile isn’t as bright or wide anymore and it doesn’t seem to be getting any better so he brings over some of your favorite snacks and finally gets the nerve to ask what’s bothering you. 

When you tell him, he holds you in his arms. He tells you that he understands a little about what you’re feeling. But while he doesn’t know exactly what you’re going through, he’s been plenty anxious before and he just wants you to feel a little less alone.

He offers any help he can provide and as hard as it is to do, you take him up on the offer for anything at all that you can put off, even if it’s just straightening up the apartment or letting him cook a meal or two for you. 

Anything helps, and he’s happy to be of use.

He tries to keep you distracted unless you’re actively working on something. He wants you to get everything done but he doesn’t want your mind going a million miles a minute for no good reason. 

He offers to facetime with you every night until you fall asleep, unless you want to invite him over so he can make you cocoa and tell you bedtime stories. He’ll blush and stutter a bit but if it means that he gets to take care of you even in the smallest way he wants to do it. 

When you’re not together he’s constantly texting you and trying to make sure you have something other than your anxiety to keep your mind occupied, eventually it does help and you’re able to get some things done and you start to function a little better. 

If it goes on for too long, he will shyly ask you if you’ve thought about seeing a doctor for it. He just doesn’t want you to suffer if you don’t have to. 

He silently hopes things get better soon because he just loves you so much and it hurts him to know you’re hurting. 

Kuroo Tetsuro

Kuroo has been busy with work so you have to tell him what’s happening before he notices, but once you do he drops everything to see if there’s any way he can help. 

You tell him all you really need is a distraction from time to time and he comes through brilliantly. 

He plans out over a dozen little mini-dates for the two of you that you can share daily or every other day at least. It’s honestly one of the most romantic things he’s ever done for you.

There’s a coffee date in the morning which usually just consists of him dropping off your favorite drink and some kind of pastry from the cafe nearby on his way to work. He leaves it on the nightstand if you’re still in bed and kisses your forehead at least once before he takes off.

He texts you pretty much hourly and mid morning you always get a quick selfie of him while he’s at work, just a little something to brighten your day. If you’re feeling up to it you can always send one back but he makes sure you know that it’s okay if you don’t. 

He calls you on his lunch break without fail, and you chat for at least ten minutes of it, sometimes he pushes you to vid chat so he can see that you’re up and eating something too. 

He asks you to find one song that makes you think of him every day, and you enjoy going through different playlists and stations on your phone to find the right thing that fits, it’s actually a really good distraction. 

Every time you make progress on something he asks that you tell him about it and no matter how small the task, he always praises you as if you’ve just won the Olympics. 

He buys a dozen puzzles, not huge ones with 5000 pieces but smaller ones that you can work on together and finish in one evening (usually) He gets coloring books and crayons too and you give a weird look but he promises they’re more for him than you, and you realize quickly he wasn’t lying about that. 

He is genuinely fierce with some Crayola. 

Dinner is usually takeout for you both but he makes sure that you have some healthy options as well as some of your favorite comfort foods, and that you eat a little of both. 

When bedtime rolls around he tries to pull himself away and go home but more often than not, you invite him to stay and he’s never been so pleased, even if all you want to do is cuddle up and listen to him sing to you. 

It is a very good way to fall asleep.

MASTERLIST