#everyone come back from the war i hate being a long term lock in for fan content

[slasherscream]

every day i wake up to nothing in the jordan li reader tag

[lets-try-some-writing]

I don’t remember where I heard it but I remember there being a theory that Knockout used to be a seeker and something happened to him and then he became a car as result because they couldn’t save his wings. Part of his narcissistic tendencies are more a part of him in the earlier days convince himself that it’s fine he doesn’t have wings anymore. And that starscream alluded to them now having the means to get back his wings on the nemese when he asked why knockout was a car.

Idk.

I like the theory though.

I would like to hear your take on it when you have the chance.

I've heard this same theory. I personally don't subscribe to it, but I like it all the same. I will gladly expand upon this little idea, at least a bit.

Clipped Wings

Knockout was originally a helicopter unit, search and rescue to be exact. He enjoyed his function, had no issues with it, and loved flaunting his wings whenever possible. He took great pride in the fact that he was capable of flight, of course it also helped the fliers were held in high esteem, but even so.

Most of his youth was spent gallivanting about, only learning medicine because it was better than being drafted into the army. He had no desire to have a machine gun strapped to his frame, it would ruin his whole aesthetic. And so he took to learning cosmetology and frame reconstruction as his primary fields of interest. And while he didn't know it at the time, it would come in handy later.

Once the war began, Knockout needed to choose sides. And so not having a ton of hope or trust in the Autobots, he joined with the Decepticons. He was immediately drafted as a field medic, a task he didn't enjoy but knew to be necessary if he wanted to climb the ranks and land in a more cushy position. And so he worked hard, flying out into the battlefield and tending to the injured Decepticons he stumbled across as best as he could. However war was brutal and a stay Autobot missile shot Knockout down during a mission. Medics were able to save him, but his wings were completely decimated and his alt-mode made effectively useless. In one fell swoop the thing be prided himself in most was stripped away from him before he could even come to terms with it.

He was shunned after the loss of his wings, his personality being too intolerable and his previous snark coming back to bite him as the Decepticon troops never left him alone. Unable to fly he became an easy target, one that guards looking to pick a fight relentlessly abused. Knockout tolerated it, spending every waking moment not at work on the ground with the other medics studying to try and find a way to return himself to what he considered his 'perfect form'. It was a very dark time for him. He hated himself, his frame, and everyone around him with a passion. In the end he pioneered an alt mode change and altered his T-cog alignment to allow him to take on a ground alt just so that he wouldn't be shunned for being useless anymore.

Even after he adjusted his frame to make it so that he could be an effective Decepticon again, he never forgot the feeling of the wind and the skies. Many a dark cycle he would sit out watching the stars on some cliff or watchtower and shutter his optics just so that he could pretend the air was once again his domain. His scars ached more often than not, and transformation never felt comfortable, almost like he was walking in someone else's frame. He was born for the skies, not the earth. He hated that a foolish war had stripped him of his greatest gift and glory.

He felt like every optic was boring into him at every given moment, staring at the scars he had long seen fit to cover with armor and flamboyant paint. He always felt judged, berated, and useless. And so to compensate he threw himself into his least favorable personality trait to cover everything else up. It was all to protect himself, at least that is what he always muttered to himself in the dead of night. His pleasant traits were locked away where they couldn't be used against him and he played into his narcissism, using it to craft an indominable persona that none dared to tamper with.

It was his defense, his perfect wall to keep others from seeing just how deeply he had been hurt by the loss of his wings.

He hated to admit it, but part of the reason he even associated with Starscream was because the Seeker had what he did not. Starscream had his wings and he understood. Both of them hid their pains behind walls of terrible personality traits. In a way they were the same, and while never voiced, both acknowledged this.

[slightlyrebelliouswriter23]

do you think balekin knew cardan had a crush on jude? i mean i feel like everyone in cardan’s social circle at one point or another realized he was in love with her. locke knew and nicasia knew, even madoc knew lol the one who was last to discover it was jude herself i love my oblivious child.

lmao Jude was SO oblivious and i love her for that 😂🙈 i'd even go so far as to say everyone realised she had feelings for Cardan before she realised she had feelings for Cardan.

in terms of Balekin, yes i absolutely believe he knew Cardan was harbouring feelings for Jude. if he didn't hear about it through general court gossip, i imagine he'd have only needed to be observant for a minute while Cardan was interacting with or staring at Jude. i mean, that's how long it took Kaye to realise Cardan was smitten in the bonus chapter of TCP, and she didn't really even know him.

actual evidence of Balekin's knowledge is few and far between. but i feel like we can piece together a few instances to create plausible evidence.

first, and most convoluted, we have the scene in TCP when Jude is spying for Dain in Hollow Hall. Balekin and Cardan come into the study, so Jude has to hide. she watches the scene unfold, wherein Balekin tries to goad Cardan into fighting him:

"'I have tried to improve you, but you insist on wasting your talents on revels, on being drunk under the moonlight, on your thoughtless rivalries and your pathetic romances—'" (TCP, ch.12, p.117)

there's no question that the "thoughtless rivalries" he is referring to is, at least in part, Jude. everyone knows Cardan and Jude hate each other, and Jude has practically publicly declared war on Cardan by that point.

"pathetic romances" could mean Nicasia, but i don't believe Balekin would regard a romance with Nicasia as pathetic. in fact, i think he would probably consider it one of the only smart moves Cardan ever made. not only is it politically strategic, Nicasia is cold and calculating, which i believe Balekin would appreciate. not to mention, in most of Elfhame's eyes, Nicasia is quite the opposite of pathetic.

so it's interesting to me that Balekin would use "thoughtless rivalries" back-to-back with a statement about romance, and a "pathetic" one at that. we all know Balekin's less than high opinions about mortals. why could the two statements not be one in the same? why couldn't both be referring to Jude?

another instance of Balekin's awareness might be in TWK when Jude comes to visit him in the Tower of Forgetting. he says:

"I have heard that for mortals, the feeling of falling in love is very like the feeling of fear. Is that right?" (TWK, ch. 2, p.25)

Jude tells him she's never been in love so she wouldn't know, but Balekin responds, "And of course, you can lie. I can see why Cardan would find that helpful."

this is more of a taunt aimed at Jude, one that says Balekin has guessed at her feelings for Cardan, as well. but Jude, being oblivious, doesn't realise this. it's the proximity (again) of the last two lines that strikes me. they were just talking about the feeling of falling in love. why would Cardan find it useful that Jude can lie about that, if not to cover up their feelings for one another?

and finally, we have the most glaringly obvious sign of them all. in the Undersea, when Balekin asks Jude, who he thinks is under ensorcellment, to kiss him like she would kiss Cardan (TWK, ch. 23, p.239).

this is a blatant barb aimed at both Cardan and Jude. Balekin is using the knowledge that they are romantically involved and the fact that Jude will have no choice but to reveal that part of herself to him, be it out of necessity to keep her act up or under the ensorcellment he thinks she's under, to confirm what he already knows.

he asks her to kiss him just after he asks her who is more worthy of the crown, himself or Cardan. Jude responds that Balekin is more worthy, because she knows that's what he wants to hear. and Balekin takes it as the truth because he doesn't know she can't be ensorcelled.

but by asking Jude to kiss him like he's Cardan after making her admit Cardan is not worthy of the crown, Balekin's message is clear:

for all the right moves she made in stealing the crown from under his nose, Jude couldn't help herself but make a very poor move in falling for Cardan. that she is weak for succumbing to him, the less worthy brother, and it will cost her everything she's worked so hard for. that Balekin will have his brother's crown and his brother's love, if he so desires. that Jude and Cardan's feelings for each other can and will be used against them.

it's a finely distilled humiliation.

–Em 🖤🗡

more theories

[court-of-forever-undone]

My Sister’s Love | Taryn POV

Chapter Three

Summary: Taryn pieces together her memories of Cardan and Jude’s early interactions as she reflects on how their relationship came to be and the events of the last year. As happy as she is for them, she can’t help but feel jealous of the moments they share.

Tags: Taryn’s POV of Jude x Cardan, Final Part

Read on AO3

After that dinner, we found Jude awake in her old rooms sitting with Tatterfell and Oak. For a moment, it was easy to pretend nothing had happened. She wore one of the black gowns she favored since becoming seneschal and was eating from a tray in front of her. But as she turned to face us, the wince she failed to hide and the paleness of her skin were reminders that she had nearly died just days ago. Her hair had been braided to mimic a crown, which was another reminder that my sister was not the same twin I had known.

Before we had a chance to talk, Cardan appeared. He likely came straight from his rooms, after finding them empty. Every fiber of my being wanted to grab Jude’s arm when Cardan asked her to join him, but I saw the dusting of pink spread across her cheeks as she saw him in the doorway, so I stood there silently. Jude would have probably ignored any word of caution coming from me anyways. We still had yet to fully come to terms with everything that happened between us.

When it had been hours and Jude had yet to return, I went to the royal chambers to see if she had gone straight there, but instead, I found Garrett.

While Jude had at least recovered some from her near-death experience, Garrett looked like the ghost of the beautiful sandy-haired boy I had met before. It might have been a funny observation given his code name, but all humor was lost in the moment. He had lost weight and his face had sunken in. When our eyes met, I saw the plea in them before he opened his mouth.

The next few hours were a blur. When Jude finally arrived at Hollow Hall, I was surprised to see she had allowed Cardan to come along. Cardan had proved he would follow my sister into the heart of an enemy war camp, despite better judgment, but this time Jude had chosen to invite him along with her.

After I commanded Garrett to stop, cursing myself for not thinking to do it earlier, we moved to a parlor room and I explained how we had come to know each other through Locke’s carelessness.

We discussed the events of what Garrett had done at Locke and Madoc’s command. It turned out that Garrett had been the one to shoot Queen Orglah. Even if he had been commanded to do it, Nicasia and the seafolk would see him as a traitor and demand that he be punished, which meant his life was entirely at the mercy of Jude and Cardan. I couldn’t help but see the resemblance to my own situation.

When Cardan made a comment about me lurking around the palace, I revealed that I had no intention of going anywhere until I knew that Jude would be safe. Our relationship may be strained, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t make up for my actions.

Cardan wore an expression that showed he was tired of this conversation. “Jude and I had a misunderstanding. But we’re not enemies. And I am not your enemy, either, Taryn.”

As a faerie, I knew he couldn’t lie, but that didn’t matter. Maybe he didn’t think of us as enemies, he could still think of us as toys.

“But you think everything’s a game. You and Locke.” His name tasted like ash in my mouth.

“Unlike Locke, I never thought love was a game. You may accuse me of much, but not that.” Cardan shared softly.

The air in the room shifted as Cardan's gaze fell upon Jude, who refused to even look in his direction before quickly changing the subject.

For the first time, it was not just me who was drawing a comparison between our loves. While Cardan’s words came out more as a confession to Jude than a taunt at me, the words still stung. Locke had thought love to be a game. But Cardan, the cruel, spoiled prince did not think love was a game.

How had I believed Locke was my future?

In the carriage back to the palace, Cardan broke the silence by asking about some of the things he had seen on his way to Vivi’s apartment. Most of his questions were about the dishwasher which had been running in the apartment, how mortal mailboxes worked, how secure they were in protecting incoming mail, and what slushies tasted like.

By the end of the ride, I couldn’t help but laugh at his questions which seemed so trivial given the circumstances we all found ourselves in. When we were alone I turned to Jude, who was barely awake on her feet.

“Do you trust him?” I asked. It was the question that had been gnawing at me since our return.

Jude thought for a moment before sighing. “Sometimes,” she responded.

It was enough to make me warn her. Did I think Cardan loved her? Yes. But was Cardan trustworthy? It was hard to forget the years of our childhood together that suggested otherwise and if Jude who had gotten to know him closer than any of the rest of us questioned it, then it was probably best not to.

I had been blinded by my love for Locke that I trusted him to take care of me. I didn’t want the same to happen to Jude, even if seeing them care for each other made my heart ache with envy.

____________________________________________________________

In the days leading up to Madoc’s arrival, all of Elfhame seemed to be on alert; waiting for something to happen. Whispers that bordered on treason could be heard on the grounds and it seemed that everyone had begun placing bets on the outcome of the meeting. It seemed that many of the Folk had questions around the legitimacy of a human queen and the chance the High King’s army stood against a Redcap led army.

Madoc would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Vivi, Jude, and I all knew that. I did not have to attend strategy meetings to know they were facing a serious threat.

Amidst the preparations for possible battle, the whole castle seemed to note the change in the High King and Queen’s dynamic. For one, their marriage was now common knowledge, but more than that there was a closeness between them that had never been there before.

At first, it was not-so-secret handholding and shared looks at mealtimes. Once at dinner, Cardan made a joke about the dangers of in-laws and Jude rolled her eyes before letting a real smile show.

Then, rumors began to spread that a servant had walked into the royal chambers to replace the bedding and apparently caught the two in a compromising position even though they were supposed to be in a war meeting.

I was doubtful when I first heard, but I even overheard some council members complaining about how they missed when the two bickered all meetings instead of ditching meetings to sneak off together.

The new development had only lasted a matter of days, so I hadn’t figured out if it stemmed from a need for distraction given the impending situation or if the two had formed a more intimate relationship since Jude’s return to health.

The look of devastation on Jude’s face after Cardan transformed suggested that whatever their relationship entailed, Jude had begun to share feelings for him that went beyond hate or tolerance.

When Cardan snapped the blood crown, the air turned stale and the ground hardened. I couldn’t tear my eyes off of Cardan, as his body seemed to melt and twist into the monstrous snake.

The ground shook as the snake moved through the room headed straight for the sword maker. By the time Grimsen was swallowed, I was being pushed deeper into the castle by the flow of the crowd desperate to get to safety. I only got a glimpse of the horror on Jude’s face before she was completely out of sight.

By the time I finally saw her later, I saw the tear stains on her cheeks and the exhaustion behind her eyes. I wondered if she was mourning Cardan or perhaps she was coming to terms with her own future. If Cardan could not be saved, Jude would likely not last long on the throne. The lower courts might seize the chance or the undersea would. That is if our father didn’t dethrone her first.

For the first time in months, I thought I might be able to understand her again. Like me, her husband gave her a level of security that was uncommon for a human in Faerie. While Jude may try to say her motivations for marrying Cardan were different from me marrying Locke, I don’t think they were. They were both motivated by power and protection.

I married Locke for protection in Elfhame. My position as his wife also gave me a degree of power I never had before. Jude married Cardan to become High Queen. She could have become the most powerful knight alive and still not have been afforded the same level of protection she has as Cardan’s queen. While we may have had different expectations for our marriages, both were strategic.

Madoc taught us that it is harder to hold onto power than it is to gain it. It is even harder to hold on when it is just you. Together, she and Cardan had a chance at maintaining the throne, but alone the chances were slim.

I may have lost almost every privilege I had as Locke’s wife, but Jude had a lot more to lose without Cardan; including her life.

In his absence, the happiness that Jude showed disappeared entirely. When she wasn’t in meetings, she could be found in the destroyed throne room and truly seemed to mourn him.

I recognized some of her pain, though her situation was different of course. I knew what it was like to feel the suffocating sense of loneliness. After all, I had gone months without hearing from my sisters or my parents, all while stuck in a relationship that was on tilted ground from the start.

I knew the pain of losing a partner. Locke died by my hand, but it did not stop the mixed emotions that came after. In the instant I decided to act, I lost any promise of a safe future in Elfhame.

We both knew what it was like to be humans in Faerieland; powerless to watch as the monsters closed in from all sides. In a land where the food, wine, a dance, and a simple conversation could be disastrous, only she and I could truly understand the deep fear that every day brought.

When the day came to bridle the snake, my sister looked magnificent, powerful even. She looked every bit the part of High Queen. But behind her cold, fierce look, I noted the inner turmoil that plagued her.

No one had any ideas on how to save the High King. Therefore, her future came down to if she would decide to wield the snake as a weapon or not. With the serpent, Jude would have had a chance to hold her position on the throne. Without Cardan, she would likely lose everything.

If power was the only thing she wanted, it would have been a simple choice. Jude would have found the snake and ruled as the murderous queen that some fae refer to her as, for as long as she could. She hesitated though. After she dressed in Mab’s armor, she paced back and forth while she chewed her bottom lip, as she does when she is nervous or thinking. She didn’t know what she was going to do.

It was that morning that it became obvious that my sister had loved Cardan back. It was more than lust or a political arrangement. They both could claim their marriage had been strategic, and it might have started that way, but there was love between them. A love that kept her from using Cardan as a weapon.

They played their games and hurt one another, but when the other was in danger they shared the same look of desperate determination to save them. The look on Jude’s face was the same as Cardan’s when he came to Vivi’s apartment; desperate, sad, and determined.

____________________________________________________________

When Jude returned with a naked, bloody, Cardan I could not believe it. The impossible had happened.

Within a matter of hours, the palace managed to throw a feast in honor of the High King returning. I dressed quickly and made my way to join in the celebration with my siblings and Heather. Tatterfell told us that Jude would join us shortly.

At the height of the party, I spotted a familiar face trying to keep out of sight near the edge of the room. I left my spot near the musicians table and made my way towards him.

“Hello Garrett,” I said as I stopped next to him, taking in the room from his angle. Vivi, Heather, and Oak were still eating at one of the long tables. The crowd parted suddenly, so it was easy to spot Jude and Cardan as they made their way to the dancefloor.

“Taryn,” he replied with a smile.

Neither of us spoke for a moment as the kitchen servants brought out more desserts with a level of fanfare that matched the king that was being celebrated.

“Are you on king and queen duty this evening?” I asked with a nod to the direction of the dance floor.

Garrett shook his head and laughed, “Technically, I am always responsible for their safety, but I sense that the king and queen don’t wish to be followed.”

I looked back only to notice Cardan leading Jude behind the dais and out of sight.

“Then, perhaps you would like to dance?” The words slipped out before I could reason why it was a silly idea. Before I could regret my words, he offered a soft smile before extending his hand.

I let him sweep me onto the dance floor, trusting him to stop me before my feet wear out. I don’t know if it was the way his face lit up when he laughed, or because he is a member of my sister’s court of spies, or because I could command him at any time (not that I ever intend on using his name), but as we twirled and laughed together, I felt safe.

The feeling was a bit ridiculous. My future was still entirely unknown. I had a baby growing inside me, still needed to stand trial, and had no way to support myself.

Technically, both Garrett and I had committed crimes punishable by death, but at least for the evening, I was happy to share the space with him.

We stayed on the dance floor together until the sun streaked in through the windows.

____________________________________________________________

On the day of the tribunal, I could not help but tremble slightly. Cardan’s promise floated in my head, but I would never fully believe it until I was officially declared innocent. I could not believe that Jude would punish me too harshly. After all, she hated Locke for what he did, so I couldn’t imagine she was upset by my actions. At the same time, she also hated me for what I did, so it was hard to guess her thoughts.

I took my time getting ready until it was finally time to make my way to the throne room. I quietly entered and found my spot in the crowd before glancing up at the dais.

Together they sat. Two enemies who had somehow fallen in love. They had risen together through everything that had happened.

Jude made Cardan into a respectable king and Cardan made Jude queen so no one could overlook her power again.

Cardan invited me forward and in a clear voice, he granted me everything he promised. I was innocent and my child and I would inherit Locke’s titles.

I walked back to my seat and felt the weight of the last few months fall off of my shoulders.

With the ruling, I let myself imagine my future; something I had not done since the night I drove the letter opener plunge into Locke’s neck.

I had made regrettable choices in the past, but I had been given a fresh start.

I had hated the way my sisters had loving relationships, but now it was what I hope to find for myself.

I want a love that is more than security or protection or fun. I want to be with someone who encourages me to be more.

I am not in a rush to find love again. I have my child to raise, my relationships to repair, but if my sister’s love taught me anything, it is that love can happen in the most unlikely of places with the most unlikely of people.

[acourtofsnakes]

Solus - Rogue, Chapter 1| Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader(F)

Summary: So I don’t want to give too much away, but a rough outline - You are Force Sensitive, and after being hunted your whole life, you’re not surprised to find another Mandalorian on your tail. What you didn’t expect, was THIS Mandalorian. Nor anything that happen’s after. And so begins a journey of two Rogues (three if you count the womp rat). 

Warnings: Not many in this chapter as it’s an opening but, mentions of death, angst?, swearing, fighting, my rusty writing after I haven’t done it in years, let me know if there’s anything else!!

AN: So, I think this might be a little messy in terms of tenses. It jumps around from the past to present a little too, so I’m sorry if its confusing… Let me know what you think!! And if you want to be added to the taglist!

Word count: Just over 4k.

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl

Rogue Taglist:  @snipskixandbeskar​ @weirdowithnobeardo

Mando’a translation: Solus - Alone

Alone.

That word had come to change its meaning over the years. When you were a small child, alone meant you were outside, playing in the grass and flowers with your parents just a few metres away indoors, within sight of you still. Close enough to come running should anything happen to you. Including that time you got stung by a bee and screamed so loudly the neighbours thought you were being raided.

A few years later, alone meant being shut away inside your room, windows closed, door firmly shut.

“It’s for your own safety, honey, you know what will happen… We don’t want this for you, we hate this, but we must keep you safe, my darling.”

You understood, of course. It was your own fault; you didn’t mean for it to happen… But just because you understood, it didn’t mean you had to like it.

A year on, alone changed properly for the first time.

The true meaning of the word hit you like a speeder when you were kneeling in the mess on the dusty ground.

Blood had soaked your knees, staining your tunic. It had coated your hands, your arms as you frantically shook the shoulders of your mother, willing her to open her eyes, to sit up and hold you. To stroke your hair and tell you it was okay, it was all just a bad dream. To take you home, where you could forget this whole thing.

It didn’t truly sink in until you heard your fathers strangled scream as he ran around the corner…

And then the sickening hiss and sizzle as the blaster hit him square in the chest. The way he tried to crawl across the ground to you and your mother, but there was a heavy white boot planted firmly in his back, a gloved hand yanking his head up and a vibroblade sliced across his throat.

His blood had coated your own bare feet as you ran to him.

You were only 12.

From that moment on… you were truly alone. No family. No more friends, they had all left when you showed them your power. Such a beautiful, natural thing, being in line with the Earth, the energy that connected all living things. It was rare, meant to be celebrated…

Instead, it just bought death upon those you loved.

So, as you ran from the horror scene within the market square, your parents blood baking onto your skin in the hot sun, you buried it. Deep inside, locking it in a box, surrounding it in darkness and keeping it hidden.

And that’s where it had stayed for the last 20 years.

~~~

Sorgan was a good place to be for a little while.

The air was breathable, the forests thick and lush, providing good cover, and the inhabitants were spread few and far between. It was quiet, the only habitable planet in its system, in fact, so it was… safe?

Well. That’s what you had told yourself when you made the split decision to come here after somehow managing to stow away on a ship that just happened to be going there.

You’d just been attacked by a Trandoshan bounty hunter, chased halfway across the planet you were on and forced to dump most of the belongings you’d managed to acquire for yourself in an effort to get away. The green lizard humanoid was… beyond eager. Hunting was their way of life, they thrived on the ritual of it and this one was no different. He was relentless. Constantly tasting the air for your scent with that disgusting flickering tongue. He’d even licked your neck once and you thought you might throw up all over his weird, scaly body. 

It had gone on for more than a week before you decided to try and get the jump on him. You laid a trap, using his eagerness against him and it had worked…. Mostly. You fought, hard, managed to sever his arm and you were just going in for the kill when out of nowhere the tables turned. Knocking away your weapons, he’d pinned you to the ground, a wickedly sharp blade pushing into your shoulder and scraping bone.

He took one look at you, battered, exhausted, blood soaking your shoulder and burst out laughing, preening in glee that he’d finally caught you, finally managed to capture the girl everyone wanted (you hadn’t bothered to ask if he was employed by the Republic or the Imperials. At this point, it didn’t matter anymore).

What he failed to notice in his gloating, was the vibroblade you pulled from the sheath on your thigh. One moment, he was laughing, the next, his head was thudding onto the ground next to your own, mouth still open in glee, reptilian tongue lolling out.

The next hour or so had been a blur, making your way through the town again, cloak pulled up over your head and over your shoulder to hide the wound. You’d managed to steal cloth and a tincture from a street vendor, binding and cleaning the knife wound whilst hiding in a small alley. It was there that you saw the ship, only a small cargo ship, the door left open. You’d slipped in like a ghost, settling between some crates of unidentifiable objects and let yourself slump, adrenaline leaving your body, leaving it shattered and full of pain. Too close. You’d almost been caught and taken back Maker knows where. Luckily you had that blade, one you’d stolen from an Imp a couple years back after he’d tried to capture you.

As you hid in the cargo hold, you heard the co-pilot ask about the turquoise planet.

“Sorgan? Why Sorgan? That place is beyond boring. I’m surprised the people living there haven’t started a war just for something to do.”

The pilot had laughed, “You’re right there. Barely anyone comes out here anymore. Most people don’t even remember it’s here.”

That suited you just fine then. A mostly empty planet with a krill-fishing village that kept to itself, swamps and forests… hey, maybe you’d finally get a chance to relax.

Since then, you’d found a little place in the forest, up high in some clustered branches, near a source of running water. It was high enough to stay out of the way of predators, but close enough to the ground that you’d be able to spot any enemies – and get away quickly.

You’d even made a friend here.

Well… sort of.

Your first night on the planet, you were trekking through the forests when your legs had just… given out. You were spent, mentally and physically, blood pooling through your fingers from the knife wound which had since opened up again. As you lay there, staring through the canopy, you decided that maybe this was it now. Maybe it was time to give up the fight.

You had been running for so long, it was a way of life now. Had more injuries than you could count and been hunted by twice as many people. Hunters and mercenaries of all species and origin, IG-11 droids, the occasional Imp or New Republic official, even a Mandalorian once – that one had been bad. You’d had to give in after you killed him and go to a hospital, he’d left a blaster hole in your thigh so deep you could see bone.

It was quiet here, peaceful, you remembered.  The treetops had begun to blur and swoop under you as you came to your decision.

I’m sorry, mumma, I’m sorry, papa. I tried, but I can’t do it anymore.

You had closed your eyes, giving into the darkness with a final goodbye and letting it wash over you like a tidal wave.

Only to be woken up what felt like seconds later by a wet nose and furry face pushing against your hand. Lifting your head, you’d blinked away the blurriness to find a rounded, big eared head resting on your hand. A Loth cat. It appeared that you’d gotten yourself a little friend.

Since then, she hadn’t left your side, following you everywhere, climbing up the trees and curling up on your lap of a night. You weren’t sure what had drawn her to you, but… it was the first companion you’d had in such a long time, and her warm body against yours was such a comforting feeling that you couldn’t bear to part with her.

That was a few weeks ago.

Nothing had happened in those few weeks. No fighting, no threats, no beeping of tracking fobs waking you in the night and sending you hurtling for the trees.

Nothing but trees, swamps and your furry little friend that you’d called Duru, after a childhood friend.

The only thing bothering you at this point, was your arm. You’d managed to smuggle some herbs from an apothecary hut in the fishing village, but it wasn’t healing properly. The wound had sealed, but it ached. Insistently. Some days it wasn’t too bad, but most of the time, it caused you enough grief that you struggled to grip anything. It was just lucky it was your non-dominant side.

A small groan left your lips as you rubbed at the skin around the wound, perched on a low branch, watching the village. The string of your bow dug into it, sending small shockwaves down your nerves and making your hand spasm. You shifted the bowstring, curling your hand into a fist and releasing it again to get some feeling back into it, an absent action as you just watched the day-to-day life of the village.

It soothed you in a way, just watching people go about their daily lives, how each person had a part to play. Even though you hadn’t met any of them and doubted they knew you were there, you liked and respected them nonetheless. So, whenever you snuck into the village for supplies, you always left something in return. Prey you’d shot down in the forest for food, herbs you’d gathered, fish you’d caught. Just a small way to say thank you to the for keeping you safe, even if they didn’t know it.

You weren’t sure how long you had been sat there for, eyes closed, one leg dangling from the branch and just enjoying the sunlight on your face, the cool and faintly briny breeze when Duru suddenly shot to her feet, a low growl rumbling from her throat. Your eyes snapped open in an instant, bow drawn and pointing into the forest, ignoring the lick of pain as your shoulder protested.

You scanned the branches, the ground below but… nothing. There was no-one there, but Duru was still staring, eyes fixed on something you couldn’t see. You huffed, leaning back against the trunk. She probably just saw a bird or a bug or something.

Still, you remained on edge for the rest of the afternoon, your hand flying to the hilt of your knife at every little crack of branches or whisper through the trees.

It took you a long time to sleep that night, but your body eventually gave in and fell into a somewhat fitful slumber, hand still resting on your bow just in case.

---

Beep.

Beep.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Beep. Bee-

Within seconds, your eyes shot open and you were bolt upright. You knew that noise.

Instinct took over and you grabbed Duru, urging her still sleepy body onto your shoulders as you scrambled down the tree trunk… only to fall the last metre because of your shoulder.

Stifling the cry of pain, you shot back to your feet and took off running, in the opposite direction of that noise.

You’d been too relaxed, let your guard slip down too much here. You should have left the second Duru went on alert last night. Of course, her instincts were so much better than yours, but you ignored it. Like a fucking fool.

The curses kept slipping from your lips as you ran, not daring to see who was behind you just yet. Maybe you’d get lucky, maybe it was just a normal hunter, looking for a big job, not realising the countless that came before him or her. Or it.

You almost laughed to yourself as you zig-zagged through the trees, feet flying over the undergrowth.Maker, you had to get off this planet, it was making you too lax.

The predator’s presence was like a dark cloud behind you, slipping through the trees, lapping at your heels every time you thought you had gotten away. Trees and branches whipped past your face, stinging but you didn’t have time to brush them away. You didn’t even have time to turn your bow and shoot an arrow, the hunter was just that close. Your brain worked frantically, seeking for a way out, an escape, a distraction, anything.

Wait.

A distraction.

You cursed yourself again, drawing in a ragged gasp of air into your aching lungs as you fumbled at your belt. You had a small flash grenade in a pouch on your belt. You used to have three, you’d had them for years and only used them for dire situations. Like this one, you just need a distraction, even for just a few seconds to get up into a tree.

Duru dug her claws into your shoulders for grip – ow, claws -  as you activated the grenade and threw it over your bad shoulder without even turning around. The hunter was so close behind you, you knew it would work no matter where you aimed.

As the grenade exploded into light, you shielded both your eyes and Duru’s with the hood of your cloak, putting on a burst of speed and adrenaline and you bolted for a tree to your left, practically flying up into the canopy. Without hesitation, you began to make your way through the trees, almost sobbing with relief to the Maker that the branches intersect and cross over so that you can make your way across them.

After about 10 minutes of moving through the air, you stopped, hunkering down against the trunk of a huge willow tree as you tried to haul air into your lungs, whilst staying quiet. The pain in your shoulder nearly brought tears to your eyes, the ache in your chest but you stayed still, breathing in through your nose slowly, then out through your mouth, massaging the stitch in your side.

Was the hunter still all that way back? Was he looking for you on the ground? Maybe he was in the trees too, opposite you, watching and waiting to-

“You can’t hide from me.”

The voice came from below and somewhere to the right, a few metres away. On the ground then. The voice sounded male, a little distorted, but that may have just been the roaring of blood in your ears.

You barely breathed, scanning your surrounds and slowly rising to a crouch on the branch, calming your body into a hunters pace of your own. Slow, even movements, balancing your weight as you crept around the tree to a branch on the other side.

Even Duru was silent, hunkering around your neck, her head barely peeping out of your cloak.

“You might have evaded all the others, but you can’t run. Not from me.”

Typical. You rolled your eyes as you slipped along the branches like a phantom. Another hunter thinking he’d get the glory because he captured you. The faint call of fear in your blood quietened as you realised he was just like the others.

Let him gloat, you thought. He could be dispatched as easy as the ugly reptile last time. And his tongue. 

You kept your ears pricked as you eased over to the next tree, but you couldn’t hear him. Obviously trying to get the jump on you. You let out a silent laugh as you reached the adjoining tree and began to descend.

“I can bring you in warm. Or I can bring you in cold.”

You froze, going rigid, praying the leaves would hide you as one foot dangled in the air. He was right underneath you.

You dared a glance down, finally looking at your current attacker and…

Nearly fell from the tree.

Standing on the ground below you, pulse rifle pointed at you was a tall figure. Decked out in beskar armour so shiny you could have done your hair in it, the infamous helmet covering his face, tilted in an almost casual, cocky expression.

A Mandalorian.

The Mandalorian.

You’d heard whispers of this one. That beskar armour, more than any other Mandalorian has ever laid their hands on, paid for by the collection of a high-stakes bounty. A bounty which he stole back, from the hands of The Client and Stormtrooper bodyguards, breaking Guild code and going on the run. Wanted by The Galactic Empire, The Guild, and countless others, he became a rogue, travelling the Outer Rim with his little green child in tow, completing jobs and missions for normal people, all the while being hunted himself by Moff Gideon. He was relentless, one of the best, not hesitating to kill if someone threatened him or the Child.

Someone obviously wants you very, very badly, to call upon a wanted man to track you down.

And he obviously wants to bring you in just as much, to take the risk of this hunt. You briefly wonder just how much he’s being offered.

Fuck. You’re really screwed now, aren’t you?

All of this flashed through your mind in an instant, as your arm shook with the pull of your body weight on the wound. You made as if to move, put suddenly he’s there before you’ve even let your foot drop, a gloved hand grabbing the bottom of your cloak and yanking you to the ground with a thud. Duru made a yowl of protest, springing off your shoulder and into the trees, which you were relieved about because at least she’d be safe.

Twisting to avoid putting weight on your bad shoulder, you bared your teeth at him in a grin, “I bet you use that line on all the ladies, don’t you?”

Really?? This man, this Mandalorian was going to either kill or take you, and you were trying to flirt with him??

Shaking your head at yourself, you rose to your feet, grabbing your bow, thankful you spent 4 years saving the credits for it. It was made of a strong but flexible metal, perfectly shaped for your height, as familiar to you as your own arm. Its edges were razor sharp, a knifes edge. You spun, swinging it toward him and it lightly clanged as it met the armour on his forearm, the vibration skittering down your arm.

The Mandalorian lifted his other hand, a knife in it that he guided toward your side, “Only the ones that have a bigger bounty than I’ve ever seen on their head.”

You quickly jumped back, but not before he caught you, cutting through the fabric of your tunic and opening a small cut just under your ribs. “Ooh, now we’re onto flattery so soon? Careful, Mandalorian, I’d think you were trying to woo me, not kill me.” You flung out with your bow again, only to have him grab it, yanking it out of your grip and throwing it to the side.

Mandalorian made a faint noise, whether it was disgust or exasperation you didn’t know, “You talk too much” He came at you again, a flurry of fists and kicks that were almost too quick for you, making you realise that you weren’t just fighting some cocky hunter.

This was possibly the most dangerous Mandalorian out there, save for Boba Fett. He wasn’t going to let this go. You were a good fighter, excellent, even, but as you both danced a routine of attack and defence across the clearing, you realised… you just might not walk away from this.

You panted, ducking under his arm as he swung for you. Maybe… maybe you could go and seek help in the village, you could hide in a hut or a boat, beg them to take you in.

It was like he read your mind, seeing what you were planning to do, “Really? You’d lead me into the villages? Haven’t enough people died for you already?” His voice was like a rasp as it come out through the modulator, cutting straight through the clarity of the fight and into your heart, making you pause.

How did he know that? Your parents were common knowledge within the hunters of course, nearly everyone knew, but everyone else, those that tried to hide you…

~“Run!!! Y/N, run. Don’t look back, whatever you see, whatever you hear you must promise me you will not look back.”~

A hard impact to your jaw made you stumble backwards, dragging yourself back to the present. Asshole. He’d distracted you. “You’re talking to me about death? How many have you killed, Mandalorian?” You kicked out at his knee, your boot connected just under the plate that covered his thigh and he partially went down.

The Mandalorian grunted as he rose back to his feet, “I’ve killed, yes. But criminals. Murderers. People who deserve it. I haven’t killed innocent people.” He came for you again, fists up and his blaster out this time

You couldn’t help the shocked laugh as you avoided his advances, slashing out with another small knife, grinning when it found home in his shoulder, “You haven’t? What about all the Jedi your little clan murdered?” You spat out the word clan, punching him hard, ignoring the protest your knuckles made at the impact of the beskar. “You didn’t understand a people, so your first instinct was to slaughter them like animals.”

You could almost feel the frown behind the T-visor of his helmet, “That was before me, I was never a part of the war. And why do you care about the Jedi?”

~“Mumma!! I’m not leaving you!! I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, this is my fault, I shouldn’t have done anything, I’m sorry!!”

“Shhh, shhh, my darling. It’s alright. They just don’t understand you, that’s all. Which is why you have to run, you must go and find your father and be safe, please.”

“There she is!!! Over there! Kill anyone that tries to protect her”~

You hesitated, lost in memories of the past, explosions, screaming and blood. So much blood…

He shot out a grappling line from his vambrace and it wrapped around your ankle and he pulled you off balance and to the ground, again. Weapons made specifically to combat Jedi, people with the same abilities as you, reminding you just how hunted you were. He rose to his feet, walking over to you, “I don’t know why they want you. I don’t know what you’ve done. I don’t care. I just know that you’re a criminal, you’re wanted, and the price on your head is nearly as big as mine.”

You snarled at him, reaching for your vibrobrade and pulling it from your thigh.

He just sighed, kicking it from your hand with one foot easily and at the same time he jammed the end of his rifle against your shoulder, already having marked it as a weakness.

A howl of rage and pain ripped through your gritted teeth, and the edges of your vision started to go black. It was broken by the helmet coming into your eyesight, the moon bouncing off the surface, “Give in. You can’t win. Even if you beat me, more and more people will just keep coming after you.” His voice had turned to honey on a knife edge, persuasive. Wrong.

Right.

You shook your head, as if trying to shake off his words, deny the truth of it even as tears started to burn the back of your eyes. You arched your back from the floor, trying to get up, trying to shift his knee off of you but he was like a damn rock on you, pinning you to the floor. “Fuck off, you’re just as heartless as the rest of them.”

Your power cried out to be used, begged form that place buried deep within you, but you pushed it down. You wouldn’t, couldn’t. Instead, you swallowed, lifting your head and opening your mouth to scream.

Only for his hand to wrap around your throat, his fingers lightly pushing against you. It wasn’t enough to strangle you, or cut off your air supply, but the squeeze of his fingers was enough to warn you that he would do it if you tried to alert the villagers. The Mandalorian leaned down, close enough that you could see your reflection in the black visor. More honey dripped from that voice, worming into your head, your defences.

“More people will die for you. And I don’t think you want that. I won’t touch those villagers, but anyone after me might not be so lenient.” He tilted that stupid helmet, merely watching you struggle with another light squeeze around your throat, another slight prod into your shoulder.

~Explosions lit up the market, local people screaming and running for cover as spices and fruit flew through the air. You choked, searching through the smoke, until your bare feet landed in something warm and wet. Blood.~

As you glared up into the unrelenting metal, you caught your own reflections eyes. Bruised. Battered, snarling. A danger to anyone you came near. How many people had died because of you? Either directly or indirectly? All because you kept running. Maybe you just didn’t deserve it. Deserved to live freely. And hell, you were so tired. 20 years on the run, more if you count the years with your parents. Always having to look over your shoulder, never being able to completely trust another living person. The closest thing you’ve had to a friend in the last 5 years is a Loth cat, and even she left.

It was time to just… give in.

~“Mumma? Mumma wake up, please wake up. You have to, you have to get up, please mumma, PLEASE!!”~

You couldn’t do it anymore.

I’m sorry.

The Mandalorian saw the defeat in your eyes, the way your body slumped into the ground, your muscles relaxed. As a tear rolled down your cheek, you took one last glance at the stars, so you didn’t see him hesitate for just a second before using the shock of his rifle to knock you into darkness.

Next chapter

[saturnsstufff]

The Empress- Darker the Weather // Better the Man

Warnings: topics from the empress, Violence

Sarah laid on the makeshift cot. Lately with how everything had been pulled out, the war seemed like it had no end. Her eyes danced dully well her fingers fiddled with the locket from her lovers. Tears easily welled her eyes at the thought of them waiting for her.

Distant, everything is scattered

She missed them, she missed them more than she thought she truly would. The way their fingers danced warmly around her locks. Or how mornings were spent wrapped up tightly within her wives arms, the cold artic air contrasting to the warm blankets. She just missed the softness of the lingering moments.

When your mind is shattered and torn apart

She knew the war wouldn't last forever, yet with every passing day, it seemed the ending was fading. Sarah knew she shouldn't be mad at Technoblade or (y/n), but she couldn't help it.

Maybe it started with (y/n), the way she clinged and lulled the grand emperor into a false sense of pride. She easily Loathed that. Everyone within the empire assumed the Emperor was in control, but Sarah- being the general, knew exactly who had the power.

In an instant, I can be indifferent

But could she really bring herself to hate her? After all she was pregnant with the Emperor's baby as of currently.

She knew she shouldn't, yet it was so easy...

When she walked into the tent to see the Grand Emperor packing his things- it left her seething. He was going to leave them- leave his troops- his people- people who gave so much in hopes to end the conflict quickly. Technoblade should have known others were missing important family events, yet here they stood, proudly serving under his name.

The blame is always shifted from the start

And it was all because She, called- begged, him to come home.

She couldn't linger about any longer, she needed to distract herself. So grabbing a cloak she left the base camp, although some of the men asked about where she was leaving too. Sarah simply wiped her eyes with pride and assured them of her return.

Leafless treetops in the snow

Views of death and bitter cold

The walk towards the nearby village was a bore. Due to the cold, barely any animals found home within the snow, anymore Sarah was starting to see the appeal of moving somewhere warmer.

Instead of visiting a bakery or a warm café, Sarah found herself wondering into a bar. Perusal, only the odd were within the warm walls. Brute men and sly women hogging up around the bar.

Without a step of hesitance she took her seat at the bar, the two brooding men beside her looked as if they should have scared her off. Yet when they tried to comment on Sarah's seat she simply sent a cold glare. Towards them, a wordless death threat of silence.

When the men backed off, they ultimately decided to move seats completely. In turn a younger gentleman took their seats.

Sarah didn't acknowledge him, something seemed off about it, yet she couldn't place her finger quite on it. The man took a glance to her, his fluffier Blonde hair radiating a familiar tone.

"You seemed troubled..." the man purred, sending Sarah into a eyeroll. Typical men. She thought, knowing exactly where this was leading.

"Don't think like that." The man said, his green eyes flashing slightly as a warning. "I'm only here to hear out a strangers problem... I'm hear to help." He mused.

Although Sarah was offset and held the high urge to not tell a thing to this man. Something told her it was worth it. She needed to get it off her chest.

So she did.

And through that, she felt her nerves lessen. With layer, and layer dropped about Technoblade, his wife, his family, everything. She felt a silver lining.

Something that should have stuck out to her however, was when she went on about Technoblade, the Man seemed to just know everything about him. Even things she didn't know- things that seemed future related. It was odd.

Yet here she found herself, drink in hand, explaining her problems to a lost man at a bar. Through the end of her rant, the only thing he had to say was "Men are hard, but im sure you've herd it before..." at the line she shrugged and looked to her glass.

The swirling bourbon within held her reflection, but something eerier about it, was when she glanced to the man inside the glass. The reflection, although looking exactly like the man beside her, when looking closer she saw halo's crossing over his face, Golden beams of bended light.

When she looked back to the man, he was looking at her unamused. "You know, there is a saying out there, that you may find, useful..." the man said.

You can take all you want, but not who I am

"What is the saying..." Sarah asked cautiously, now alarmed from the mans reflection. She watched the man take a drink before smiling- almost sinisterly.

"The Darker the Weather, the Better the Man" he said. Sarah gave a odd look to him, not understanding, but it didn't take long for the man to elaborate. "Say something hardens the man your talking about. Something that will truly drive him cold. He may turn out better than you expected. After all, weaklings rarely survive war." The man said casually.

The line rang around inside Sarah's mind, what could make techno so cold, that he refused to go home. The man watched her, trying his best to hide the wicked smile he held.

But the darker the weather, the better the man

And then it hit her. Almost like sheer brilliance, it hit her dead on.

You can take all you want, but not who I am

The letters to you.

You can't have my-

When Wilbur was tasked with waking you up, it was easy to say he was always overjoyed. With techno being absent from your side, Wil always tried his best to make you smile. Sometimes even Tommy would tag along.

Of course, Tommy didn't understand the severity of the moment how heartbroken and lost you felt, but he could easily tell you were sad at the least. So he also tried to cheer you up.

Sun shines through an open window

So on days he woke you, he would often run into Technoblade room, your silhouette laying within the oversized bed. He often viewed it as misplaced for how lonely your body looked.

But that didn't ever stop him from pulling the curtains open, the light rarely shined brightly through the glass, but in the end it did allow more light within. Well Wilbur pulled the curtains, tommy would often bounce on your bed, doing his best to make you smile.

Close the curtains real slow to hide the light

Although you would hide your face and try to hide, tommy wouldn't stop his smiling and joyful laugh. Yet Wilbur would always watch how your eyes would linger to techno's side of the bed. Wilbur hadn't seen the letters between you and techno, but he always saw how they tore you up. Whatever he was saying was hurting you, and Wilbur despised it.

But in time, maybe I can change it

At the least Wilbur was thankful you had Orion beside you, he was able to calm most of your haywire nerves. Of course, Wilbur never liked how close he was to you. But, he understood it was a time where you just needed someone.

We'll find someone who feels the same as me

Wilbur saw how you tried to hide your pain, your long nights spent crying, the days you refused to eat, the way you refused to acknowledge techno's lost presence. It was obvious who you were not on good terms.

Wilbur couldn't help his curiosity, he knew it was wrong, yet he did it anyway. When you had left your office for bed Wilbur snuck in, it was the first time he was in Technoblade office alone. The sword you made held high on the wall, truthfully it was poetic.

On a plaque underneath it, was lettering inscribed "the Empress" like the embodied empress, the sword similarly hung alone. With care he slid into your chair, slowly pulling the letters out to read.

You broke me down and stole my soul

And oh was his pissed. For good reason, he saw why everyone was so upset with him.

Left me vacant and all alone

Out of everyone, Orion was the one to see you at your worst. Never had he assumed he would have been so close to someone that he would have gave everything to take your pain away. It left his blood boiling to see you hurt the way you were.

Months of being alone, feeling lost, unloved, unwelcomed. It truly left him with a burning hate. Orion knew he could treat you so much better, that he could take care and provide for you and your infant child.

Over the time techno was gone, he felt he was the only commander to truly hate his leader. Hate what he puts others through, he hated the sorrow he brought along.

But the darker the weather, the better the man

But nothing compared to the pure rage Orion felt when he herd what techno did to you. When you all rested at Foolish's summer home, you didn't lay with techno right off the bat, instead you explained what happened between techno and you.

And Orion was livid.

Techno had put his hands on you- had put his hands on your throat. Orion felt every bone in his body scream to get even. No one raises a hand to those they love, it was just a unspoken law. Orion would have taken to Technoblade as well, only thing holding him back was your tender soft words.

"Please don't- please Orion... let it stay between us..." you begged to him. Soft doe eyes pleading to the Enderian.

You can take all you want, but not who I am

Although it gnawed at Orion’s heart, he respected your call and left it lie. But that didn't stop what fallowed.

With the Enderian's blood flowing strong with rage, emotion, and the urge to defend, he couldn't help the way his eyes slit with the dragons hue, the blood curdling purple that drove fear into those around him.

You were far down the hall, everyone was asleep, it was a perfect time to let everything go.

You can't have my

And go he did..

He had never felt it, even though his blood ran with the Enderian's, he had never felt his anger hit the point of breaking.

The point that others forewarned him about. The point where his jaw would dislocate and his skin would tear open to allow the canines of a monster to show.

It wasn't a side he thought he had.

You can't have my

Yet when the thought laced through his mind again. The thought of techno putting his hands on you, he felt the pop, and the blinding rage that fallowed. Throwing the nearest object as he let the curdling scream out.

You can't have my soul

When techno undressed for the night, he couldn't explain the shame and hurt that he felt. He couldn't meet his own gaze within the mirror. He knew you were willing to bathe with him again. Lay for the night and try and wish it to be what it once was.

But he knew he Hurt you. He knew it wasn't his direct doing, but he was involved- he took it too far.

He could still see the nail marks from where you grabbed his face, he hoped it wasn't the same for your neck.

He didn't deserve you.

He knew it. The way he lashed and you too willing asked him to bathe with you like it was over. You taking his hands, his face his body into your hands, you were truly too wonderful. To amazing for him.

But the darker the weather, the better the man

When you stepped into the bathroom he saw your tired eyes, your arms firmly around Thena. He saw how attached you were to her. She was your world, she was the world techno wanted to live with.

Techno knew he had no right to ask to hold her, not after what he had done to his tiny family. Yet he couldn't help but want to feel you and her in his arms. He wanted to redeem himself and show you he was worthy enough to protect you both.

You can take all you want, but not who I am

After all he was still your husband and her father in the end, it was his job, his one thing he cannot mess up. He knew others were on the line. Others more important than a endless battalion, you were his wife, his life, the mother of his daughter.

You were his world.

But the darker the weather, the better the man

So from that day, he swore. Dare anyone lay a hand on his wife, and daughter. He would raise hell upon them.

He would never loose you too like he almost did.

You can take all you want, but not who I am

[robininthelabyrinth]

Unfettered (aka NHS goes feral) - part 3 - previous parts: on ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2

-

Lan Xichen had the strangest feeling that something was going to happen.

He wouldn’t pretend that he had a touch of foresight – life had shown him the hard way how completely he lacked any sorts of skill in that direction– and there was nothing altogether unusual about anything that had happened in the past few days of the war. Lan Xichen was helping with so much more now than he had during the Sunshot Campaign, when he’d been able to be a little above it all as a mere courtier or a single but powerful scouting force, thanks in large part to his sect’s then-existing weakness and Nie Mingjue’s utter brilliance. Nowadays he had to deal with the endless drudgery of war administration: the clean-up before and after battles, the mechanics of feeding and supplying all the cultivators in their front lines, planning their next move and the next after that…

Nie Huaisang had received a message and stormed out, looking annoyed, but that wasn’t new, either.

There were many demands on his time, after all. Nie Huaisang might not have much experience at war on a personal basis, having largely (and willingly) been sidelined during the Sunshot Campaign, but he was a sharp study and an excellent judge of people. He managed their generals – selected for merit without any attention to what sect they were from, if any – with an iron fist that rivaled his control over his own disciples, and on top of the war there was also his extensive network of spies, his constant scrutiny of their supply lines, his supervision of internecine disputes between the sects…

The divisions between us will be the first place Jin Guangshan strikes, he had said – snarled, rather – at the last meeting between sect leaders, taking to task men twice his age without so much as the blink of an eye. I want this petty bullshit between you resolved, now, and I don’t care how many generations you’ve been fighting over it. If you don’t fix it, I’ll fix it for you, and I assure you that neither of you want that.

They’d resolved it.

After all, Nie Huaisang was right: no one wanted him to step in.  

It was a little ironic, Lan Xichen thought. The entire war had started because of Jin Guangshan’s lust for power, his desire to be called Chief Cultivator – a term Nie Huaisang denounced, as Nie Mingjue had before him – and now it was Nie Huaisang to whom the cultivation world deferred without question.

People were afraid of him.

It still seemed a little ridiculous to Lan Xichen, as if at any moment someone would step in and say that it was all a joke that they’d all been taken in by. That Nie Huaisang was still the excitable little roly-poly puppy he’d always been, Lan Xichen’s good friend’s little brother: stubborn and cute and smarter than he pretended to be, interested in nothing but his art and his fans and his clothing, lazy and indolent and unabashedly happy in a way that had brightened Lan Xichen’s day to see, every time.

He wasn’t, though. And it was Lan Xichen that had helped make him into what he was now.

During his travels, he’d heard cultivators in the field referring to Nie Huaisang as the Pallbearer, obliquely calling him the virtuous mourner as if he were a death-god whose name should not be directly uttered lest it draw his attention – it wasn’t anything Nie Huaisang had accepted as a personal title, utterly inauspicious as it was, but if he didn’t take one soon, he’d be stuck with it. If he wasn’t already.

People were simply uncomfortable calling him Nie-er-gongzi the way they had before, and Lan Xichen didn’t blame them one bit – the Nie-er-gongzi of the past was unrecognizable in the man of today.

But neither could he blame Nie Huaisang for refusing the title of Sect Leader Nie as long as his brother still had a single spark of life in his body.

Nie Mingjue…

Lan Xichen missed him terribly.

He knew he didn’t have the right to – Nie Huaisang had made that clear enough – but he did. He missed his old friend, with his confidence and his kindness and his goodness. He missed having a confidant who esteemed him and who trusted him, who shared everything with him without a moment’s hesitation, who always tried his best and honored those who did the same.

He’d once, and only once, caught a brief glimpse of Nie Mingjue after everything had happened: he’d been in bed, pale as death, face quiet and slack and peaceful in a way it never was, with doctors surrounding him. At the time, they were working furiously to save his life as Nie Huaisang paced furiously outside the door, refusing food and only drinking enough water to replenish the tears that streamed endlessly down his face.

That had been early on, before they’d realized Nie Mingjue had lapsed into a deep coma from which there was no telling when or if he would awake and, even if he did, in what state he would be left in. That had been before Nie Huaisang had banned Lan Xichen from the Unclean Realm…banned everyone, really, hosting them anywhere else he could rather than allow them anywhere near his brother when he was vulnerable.

Before he’d slowly started giving up hope. Before they all had.

It’d been years, after all. Surely if Nie Mingjue’s indomitable strength could heal him, it would have done so by now?

Of course, even if Nie Mingjue did eventually wake up, it wasn’t as if Lan Xichen would get his friend back the way it had once been. Nie Mingjue had always been righteous to the point of rigidity, willing to make the hard choices to punish those who had done wrong no matter their identity, and Lan Xichen had failed him so thoroughly, so completely…

Guiltily, too, he knew that if Nie Mingjue woke up, he’d undoubtedly step up as general once more, coordinating everything the way he had during the Sunshot Campaign – and that meant they wouldn’t need to rely on Lan Xichen’s assistance anymore.

Nie Huaisang had made that clear, too.

Whoever had raised his ire by sending him that message that had pulled him away from their work together…well, they’d better have a very good excuse. Nie Huaisang hated to be interrupted, his temper as short as anyone in his family’s had ever been, and his tongue was more poisonous than Jiang Cheng’s.

Lan Xichen would know, being its most frequent target.

Nie Huaisang had never forgiven Lan Xichen in his part in preserving Jin Guangyao’s life, and lacking the actual assassin to rend to bits, he had grimly decided to make do with the accomplice. He needled Lan Xichen at every instance, taunting him with his failures and deficiencies, making nasty jibes and underhanded remarks that cut deep – and Lan Xichen deserved every single one of them.

Back then, it had been Lan Xichen who had hesitated, refusing to believe the truth. Refusing to believe that his then (and, perhaps, still) beloved A-Yao could ever do such terrible things of which he had been accused, either at his time in the Nightless City or the assassination of Nie Mingjue – he had pushed back, prevaricated, insisted on investigating more, finding out more…in the end the truth had come out in all its ugly wretched filthy glory and the only thing his foot-dragging and indecisiveness that he’d pretended was a devotion to justice had gotten him was Nie Huaisang’s endless disdain.

The worst of it, though, wasn’t the humiliation or the insults, nor his feelings of failure and guilt.

No, it was the way his foolish heart raced at how Nie Huaisang looked now, with all restraint a distant memory – the sharp Nie features on his delicate face turning from blurred to clear as the childhood fat on his cheeks melted away; the intelligence that flashed in his eyes, now unhidden by any pretense or indifference; the utter brilliance in the casual way he rattled off orders, effortlessly taking command without permitting any backtalk; the way he moved, a mixture of the martial general and a dancer’s grace; the way everything about him perfectly fit to Lan Xichen’s taste –

He really was a fool.

He had a crush on you for years, Lan Xichen reminded himself. Nie Mingjue even told you about it, he’d even approved of it back then if only you were interested, and yet you pretended you knew nothing. But now, now when he hates you, despises you, sees you as little better than a worm to crush beneath his heel, now is when you finally choose to see what’s always been there?

He hadn’t said anything to Nie Huaisang about it, of course. There wasn’t any point when Nie Huaisang already thought of him in the worst possible terms – weakling, willfully blind, murderer – and he could easily imagine how it might go, if he ever tried anything.

(“I heard some soldiers say that I resemble Jin Guangyao,” Nie Huaisang had mused one day, his hands locked behind his back as he looked down at their troops training in the field. His voice was cold as ice and sharp as a blade. “Though there’s some disagreement as to whether it’s my face or the devious turns of my mind that bring up the comparison. I thought I’d ask you, Zewu-jun, you being the expert and all – am I a good replacement? A suitable stand-in? If I smile at you enough times, will you do whatever I say without question, the way you did for him?”

I would already do anything for you, Lan Xichen had thought at the time, full of sorrow. In a way that goes well beyond what I felt for him. But even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me, would you?)

No, it was clear enough to Lan Xichen that his father’s blood ran strong in him, dooming him to only love where he was not loved in return, and to finally realize the strength of that love only when it was too late.  At least it seemed that Lan Wangji had escaped that fate with Wei Wuxian, their earlier misunderstandings aside.

A moment later, as if summoned by his thoughts, the man himself appeared.

“Oh, Zewu-jun, there you are! Have you seen Nie-xiong?” Wei Wuxian asked, popping his head in through the door. Lan Wangji was a few steps behind him, waiting patiently as he always did – he was always patient with Wei Wuxian, gentle in a manner that reminded Lan Xichen of the way he sometimes cared for the wild rabbits back at the Cloud Recesses.

They hadn’t spoken much, of late. Lan Wangji had understood Lan Xichen’s weakness and had not held it against him, but that didn’t mean Lan Xichen had forgiven himself, nor did it lessen the sting of shame he felt over events he felt must have lost him the respect of his younger brother, no matter how Lan Wangji denied it – it was easier to focus on matters of war.

“He was called away suddenly, I’m afraid,” Lan Xichen said. “He left a few shichen ago, but he said he’d be back in time for dinner.”

“Dinner has already passed,” Lan Wangji said, his voice neutral – an obvious reprimand for Lan Xichen for having not noticed, shaded with concern over the way Lan Xichen didn’t always eat the way he should. He wouldn’t be hurt by it, he practiced inedia the way they all did, of course, but that didn’t mean he should miss meals if he didn’t have to. “He has not yet returned?”

“Not that I’ve noticed. But if it’s that late, he should be back soon. Do you need him for something urgent?”

“As urgent as anything else in this war,” Wei Wuxian said with a shrug. “If you see him, let us know.”

“Why do you assume I’ll see him first?” Lan Xichen asked, a little amused, but Wei Wuxian blinked at him as if he’d said something foolish.

“He always comes to you first,” he said. “Hadn’t you noticed?”

Lan Xichen’s breath caught briefly – no, he hadn’t noticed, and his mind immediately started to race, his heart growing warm…but no. He only was being foolish again. As the army’s courier, its administrator, Lan Xichen was the obvious person for Nie Huaisang to contact if he wanted to get his plans spread out to everyone as soon as possible.

There didn’t have to be anything more to it than that.

“So when he arrives, if you could just tell him –”

“No need,” Lan Wangji interrupted. “He is approaching.”

A few moments later, and it was clear from the footsteps that Lan Wangji was right, as always – when Lan Wangji was younger, Lan Xichen used to tease him about having the ears of a bat, capable of detecting everything, and sometimes he really thought it might be true.

They waited, and the door opened, and Lan Xichen instinctively turned away as Nie Huaisang let himself in, not wanting to see those hard eyes turn even harder, the instinctive sneer that rose to Nie Huaisang’s lips at the sight of him that it always took him an extra moment to suppress.

“Nie-xiong?” Wei Wuxian asked, his voice rising a register in his shock. “What happened?”

Lan Xichen turned back at once, suddenly cold all over in terror. Had Nie Huaisang been injured? Some ambush, some attack, or worst of all a garrote made of guqin string the way he’d so foolishly taught A-Yao – but no, when he examined him with his eyes, Nie Huaisang looked hale as always, but for the redness and swelling around his eyes.

He looked for all the world as if he’d been –

Crying?

And yet Lan Xichen knew that Nie Huaisang hadn’t wept in years. One could probably accurately say that Nie Huaisang hadn’t had any expression in years, nothing that wasn’t a sneer or a grimace, maybe at best a smirk. What could have caused him to do so now…?

Nie Huaisang shook his head and unexpectedly – smiled.

A real true smile, his eyes curving into crescents and wrinkling at the corners, his cheeks glowing pink and his teeth flashing just like when he was younger and more innocent and smiled like that all the time. A smile of the sort that Lan Xichen hadn’t appreciated when he had it, the sort he’d thought was lost forever.

Lan Xichen’s heart stopped in his chest.

He wished he could stop this moment, too, to keep it with him for the rest of time.

“It’s da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, beaming. “He woke up.”

Oh, Lan Xichen thought. Oh.

Oh no.

[starcrossedyanderes]

Would Rygel take his darling stargazing?

Yesssss

I’m sorry I just love it when I get requests that fit my ‘aesthetic’. I decided to take my own twist on this request so it turned into this. Also with this picrew Rygel has much darker skin but this was the darkest skin tone in this picrew.

“We have an event tonight.”

You quirked an eyebrow at Rygel’s words.

“When did you do events?”

“I must admit I usually abhor going to such required events. But I believe we shall find this one to be quite enjoyable.”

A smile actually pulled at Rygel’s lips as he looked down at you from his 6’9” stature. You felt a phantom hand caress your cheek; no doubt from Rygel’s own psychic abilities.

“Besides I think now is an excellent time to go ‘public’, don’t you agree?”

The hold on your cheek tightened.

“I expect that it has been long enough for you to have come to terms with my.. actual identity. And with that the expectations and status of you being my moonlight. I trust that you shall live up to these expectations, yes?”

The way his mind and eyes drilled into yours had you give out a meek “yes.”.

Rygel’s aura immediately lightened up and the feeling on your cheek disappeared only to be replace by the feeling of your whole body being gently squeezed; Rygel’s form of an affectionate hug and sign of approval.

Rygel bended down to your height to place a chaste kiss on your lips as the feeling of other kisses being placed all over your face accompanied it. You even felt some of your hair be lifted up and twirled.

“I’ll have a car pick you up at 8:30 and I believe the money I have just provided you should suffice for preparing for a formal event. Oh, and do be sure to wear the circlet I gifted you earlier. It is only fitting with your status being announced and all.”

Rygel pulled away with his flowy purple hair slightly ticking you. He started to walk towards the exit before suddenly turning around to face you again.

“Oh and one more thing my moonlight. Try and make yourself look as good as you truly are. In other words, perfect.”

~|~

After hitting up the mall you finally stood in back home in front of your full length mirror striking poses. Like, dang, you look good. You don’t know if this is how good you truly are, but dang is this as close to perfect as it gets.

Except for a teeny-tiny issue. Your circlet. How does one even wear such a thing? You just couldn’t get it sit quite right, look quite right, or anything! You just don’t know how to circlet!

And of course it was at that time you heard the opening of a car door.

Crud.

You would have to fix it in the car as you only had time to grab your purse and book it down to the car before Rygel blows up the planet or something.

You didn’t even pay attention to the chauffeur who held open the door for me as you scrambled in.

Of course like the idiot you were this also meant you didn’t notice that Rygel was also in the car with you.

There his majesty sat, for the first time legitimately speechless. Even you could practically feel the change in the mind pheromones thing. There clad in his suit and own matching circlet the Emperor sat truly admiring all that is you. It was times like these he remembered why exactly you were his destined one.

His eyes even became hooded!

“Darling, you look positively ravishing. Yes, I do believe this is the definition of perfection itself.”

As you buckled yourself in your face blushed as you let out a meek “thank you.”. But in classic Rygel fashion his face returned to mostly normal as if he hadn’t just said such out-of-character things. 

It was with a slight chuckle at your positively adorable behavior that the car started up to wherever the heck you were headed.

As always the car ride with your ‘betrothed’ was almost completely silent since Rygel was never very talkative.

During this extended time you couldn’t help but to continuously fiddle with the garment on your head which just.. wouldn’t.. sit.. right! You had no idea how long you were trying to get it right before you were met with Rygel’s rich voice.

“Let me.”

You arms quickly fell down to your sides by both of your minds commands as Rygel lifted the circlet from your hair. You felt portions of your hair float into the sky as Rygel brushed your hair in certain directions before digging some pins out of his pocket. 

“I always find pins to work best at keeping these in place. I never really use them though but I try to keep them on me at all times just for cases like these.”

It is with a few flourishes of his hands that the circlet was perfectly placed in your hair.

“Rygel..I.. Thank you!”

A sudden pull was administered on your waist as you fell into his chest. A large inhale was heard as Rygel took in the smell of your hair. A smile tugged at his lips as he placed a kiss onto your lockes.

“It is no issue. I pride making myself and others look presentable. Besides, I’m sure you’ll become more comfortable with putting on a circlet later. I’ll send you some info about how it is typically worn.”

“I would appreciate that.”

You sat in a comfortable silence before you broke it.

“Hey, where exactly are we going?”

“We’re going to an observatory where some of my people are holding an event in honor of us soon leaving this accursed place.”

Rygel truly was a master at saying sentences with a lot to unpack.

You turned to face him.

“Hold up? Your people? Aren’t they all supposed to be in space or something?”

Rygel let out a hum as you felt your hair mindlessly float about you.

“Well of course most of them are indeed in space but a few like me have infiltrated Earth and have made lives for themselves. Such as my foster family.”

“Are you telling me there’s a bunch of aliens walking around us in plain sight without anyone knowing?”

Rygel shrugged as a playful smirk pulled at his lips.

“Perhaps. I mean, I did manage to fool everyone for what? 18 years?”

At his remark you let out a few mumbles which only earned you a smile and pat on the head.

“You truly think the most hilarious things, my dear.”

~|~

“Isn’t it a bit much to.. float?”

The two of you were currently going up the stairs to the observatory with your small hand being engulfed by his slender, graceful one.

“Absolutely not. It is a show of status and is simply much more enjoyable than walking. I will never understand you humans. Why walk when you can simply float everywhere?”

“Because we can’t float.”

Rygel frowned slightly at that. 

“Ah, yes. Pity. Really moonlight what ever would you do without me.”

“Walk.”

With a smirk you rose right up to him. His smirk seemed to widen even more once you clung to him to catch your balance.

“This.. is weird.”

“Just wait until you try dancing like this. Actually, stay like this on me for the rest of the night. I would hate for a small accident to occur.”

That was a lie and you knew it. He just liked you like this. But even so you couldn’t imagine how you would ever be able to dance on this invisible floor beneath you.

~|~

“Is that his imperial highness?”

“He’s so tall.”

“And so.. pretty...”

Rygel let out a quiet sigh only you seemed to hear.

“And all of the sudden I remember why I don’t enjoy such events.”

You had to agree with his sentiment once walking past an uncomfortable amount of gazes. How did they even know who you both were?

It’s probably because you’re the only two wearing circlets and floating that high off the ground. Curse that fancy headpiece!

The two of you began to walk deeper into the dome where the large telescope could be seen.

But you were quickly interrupted.

“Oh! Your imperial highness! How wonderful it is to see you!”

You could tell by the change of Rygel’s aura that his mood had quickly soured.

“Ah, Devah.”

Out of the corner of your eye you could both see Rygel’s strained smile and 2 glasses floating your way.

As the glass landed in your hands Rygel slightly turned to you.

“This is one of the main sponsors of the missions on Earth.”

Devah put on way too cheery of a smile as he hissed out a whisper; as if he was making sure you could not hear.

“And is it alright if I ask but what exactly is a human doing here?”

Rygel’s golden eyes flashed as his grip tightened on you and his mind readied for a strike.

“She is my mate. If you are not as dimwitted as I thought then you should know that things such as species has no effect on who a person’s mate is. Human or not, she is your empress and you shall treat her as such.”

As the aliens face paled it dawned on you that Rygel may be invisibly choking like in Star Wars.

“Y-yes, my apology your imperial highness.”

Rygel raised a purple eyebrow at this as the man jerked into a bow as yellow energy surrounded him.

“Highness?”

“Y-yes your imperial highnesses.”

Rygel actually let out a smile at this.

“Much better. But I think we’ll just leave you like this for the rest of the night. Perhaps it will help you remember your status. Come now, my darling.”

You were pulled away from the bowing alien by Rygel’s long strides towards the large telescope; the focal point of the room.

As Rygel peered in and gave some slight adjustments to the machinery you took a sip from the glass in front of you only to pull back in shock.

This was a new taste for sure. Despite scowering your mind’s attic of a memory you could not place such a taste anywhere. You were honestly kind of scared to ask what the drink was made because of the possible response being blood.

And you kinda needed to know if this was alcholic.

“Um.. Hey, Emperor?”

Rygel let out a mere hum as his only indication of hearing you as his psychic energy caressed you.

“What exactly is this drink? And is it alcholic?”

Rygel let out a light chuckle as his golden eyes continued to look through the lens.

“Don’t worry, it isn’t alcholic. I know you technically aren’t of age to drink here but you’re always more than welcome to. Beauty of world domination and all.”

You hated how he says such awful things so eloquently.

“What you are currently holding, my dear moonlight, is a drink that is drived from one my home planet’s natural fruits. I believe in your language it would be pronounced as the xoqub fruit. Care to look?”

Rygel pulled away from the telescope to give you your turn at the stars. As your eyes peered in you continue your questions.

“How did you even get that stuff here? That has to take forever to ship out.”

“It does take quite a bit to get here but it is admittedly faster than transporting life forms. We actually do a mix of getting some delivered, growing it ourselves here, and just using food replicators.”

“HOL UP YOU GUYS HAVE REPLI-”

“If you point it more this way you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

Rygel prematurely interrupted you by moving the telescope slightly.

“This is the closest point this telescope can get to our planet. It can be seen far past this point.”

You were the one to actually shut yourself up as you stared deeply at that tiny little point.

“It’s really that far away?”

“Yes. It is at least a one month journey to reach there. We will also have a few days added on as we will be making a few stops along the way for various things and your own enjoyment.”

You looked up from the vast before you.

“My own enjoyment?”

“This will be your first time into space, yes? I figured you could at least see some of your new territories. I also have some things to take care of at these places anyway. We’re mainly stopping at the Europa colony and this area by the Kupier belt. After that it’s a non stop journey.”

You turned to look back at all the stars.

“It’s weird.. to think I’ll be riding through the stars and going to places humans have never gone before. But it’s all so.. pretty.”

Rygel hummed as he took a sip from his own glass. 

“And all that ‘pretty’ shall be ours, my moonlight.”

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Snuggles and Sacrifices - Fred Weasley

Title: Snuggles and Sacrifices Pairing: Fred x fem!reader Summary: Reader isn’t going to let anything get in the way of her dreams, as silly as they may be A/N: for the anon who wanted a fic where Fred and the reader go to adopt a cat and the reader has an allergy attack! It’s a little short but very sweet! Feedback is always welcome, and requests are open!

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

“Hi love,” Fred greets softly as he leans against the doorway to his and Y/N’s bedroom.

Y/N looks up from the book in her lap, giving her boyfriend a warm smile. Her smile falters a little as she takes in his appearance. His tie has been loosened and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone. There are bags under his eyes and his hair is messy, something he tends to do when he’s frustrated. He and George have been working extra-long hours at the store in the lead up to start of term at Hogwarts. He’s often gone in the morning before Y/N wakes up and he doesn’t arrive back home until she’s already eaten dinner.

“Come here, love,” she beckons, waving her wand so the books that had been sprawled out on their bed put themselves in a stack on their dresser. Fred immediately plops down on the bed, lying on his back with his head in Y/N’s lap so he can look at her. She places a light kiss to his lips and starts to run her hand through his hair.

“Mmm, feels good,” Fred sighs. His eyes close as he feels all the stress melt away from his body. The shop is no doubt one of the best things that happened to him, but he must admit that it’s hard work a lot of the time and a major cause of his stress. But returning home to Y/N always makes him feel better, and she is no doubt the best thing that ever happened to him.

Y/N scratches at Fred’s scalp lightly as her fingers run through his long hair. Molly has been begging him to get a haircut for weeks and Fred keeps saying he will once things with the shop slow down, but Y/N knows that he secretly keeps it long because she prefers it that way. “Long day?” she asks when Fred sighs.

Fred nods, opening his eyes so he can look at Y/N. “The longest. I wanted to leave after closing but there was a never-ending list of things to do. Every time I tried to sneak out it there was something else that we needed to do. I think the universe is trying to keep us apart my dear.”

Y/N laughs at Fred’s dramatics, leaning forward to kiss him again. “I don’t think it’s that serious, Freddie. You’re busy, I get it. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy while you’re gone,” she says, gesturing towards the large pile of books on their dresser.

After the war Y/N had decided to become a Healer, partially due to all the time she spent at St. Mungo’s with Fred after his brush with death. It destroyed her that there was nothing she could do to help him recover and as she watched the Healers work on Fred and the other patients it inspired her to do the same thing. She enrolled in the training program once Fred was back on his feet and now 2 years later all that stands in her way of becoming a full Healer is her final certification exam. It’s scheduled for the last week of October and Y/N has spent every waking minute preparing.

“I know,” Fred says with another sigh. “But I still feel bad. You’re here alone all day. You wake up alone, you eat alone. We moved in together so we could spend more time together, but it feels like I see you less than I did before.”

“You know it does get kind of lonely around here,” Y/N muses with a grin. “But I think I know something that we could do to make it less lonely,” she trails off, looking down at Fred expectantly.

Fred rolls his eyes and sits up, situating himself so he can look at Y/N. “No, Y/N we talked about this,” Fred scolds lightly. “We’re both way too busy right now to even entertain the idea.”

Y/N pouts at Fred and pushes his face away when he tries to kiss it away. “Come on, Freddie, please? It’s actually the perfect time! I’m still going to be home for the next few months, and by that time the shop won’t be as busy. It’s perfect.”

“I just don’t think it’s the right time for us to get a cat, love,” Fred says softly.

Y/N sticks out her bottom lip as she gets on her knees, her hands coming together in front of her like she’s praying. “Please, Freddie,” she begs while using her sweetest voice. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted in life.”

And she isn’t lying. Ever since she was a little girl all Y/N ever wanted was a cat. She’s not particularly sure why, but every year for her birthday she would ask for the same thing, a little black kitten. She would constantly beg her parents for one, but they always said no. And as much as she hated to admit it, they had a pretty good reason. Both Y/N and her mother are fairly allergic to cats.

Despite the sneeze fit she gets every time she’s around a cat, Y/N never let that stop her from yearning for one. It made going to Hogwarts quite difficult, especially after Hermione adopted Crookshanks. Cat hair was all over the common room and Hermione’s cat was always slinking about. Y/N could have told everyone about her allergies and Hermione could have kept Crookshanks in her dorm, but Y/N loved the fact that the orange kneazle was always around and cuddling up to anyone who would allow it. No matter how badly he irritated her nose she kept seeking him out, hiding her sneezes from all of her friends. She had gotten quite good at it too.

Y/N first brought up the idea of getting a cat when she and Fred moved in together 5 months ago. Y/N had been living in an apartment with a few of her friends from school and Fred was living with George and Angelina above the joke shop. Both places were far too crowded for them to get any alone time, so they decided to just go for it and get a place together. Y/N had figured it would be the perfect time to get a cat but Fred and vetoed it, saying that they were both too busy to be able to take care of a pet.

Fred sighs, unable to resist Y/N’s please. “I’ll think about it. Alright?”

Y/N squeals and wraps her arms around Fred’s neck, hugging him tightly. “You’re the best!” She pulls away to press kisses all over Fred’s face, a plan already forming in her head.

-

Sunday’s are usually reserved for family days at The Burrow.  Everyone spends the day hanging out and decompressing from the work week and Molly prepares an amazing dinner. Y/N looks forward to it every week, but this week she convinced Fred that they should skip out so they could spend the day alone together instead. Fred had agreed immediately, and Y/N could put her plan into action.

“It’s so nice, isn’t it? Just spending the day alone together,” Y/N says. Her and Fred are walking around muggle London, their hands intertwined and softly swinging back and forth between them. They’ve just left Y/N’s favorite muggle café after having lunch, and she suggested that they take a walk before heading back to their flat.

“It is, love. I’ve missed this. Just us, being us,” Fred muses, bringing their hands up so he can press a kiss to the back of Y/N’s hand. “Although I can assure you I don’t miss my weekly lecture about my hair.” They both laugh as Fred shakes his head, tousling his long locks.

They walk in silence for a few moments, just enjoying being with the other. Y/N almost feels bad that she’s using this opportunity to trick Fred, but as they approach their final destination, those feelings start to get replaced with excitement. They’re standing at a corner, waiting for their turn to cross when Y/N turns to look at Fred.

“I feel like you haven’t kissed me enough today,” she says, her lips turning into a pout.

Fred laughs and immediately leans down to kiss her softy. “I’m sorry, love. Let me fix that.” He kisses her again, lingering for a moment.

When he pulls away Y/N smiles at him and decides it’s time to enact her plan. She lets her gaze move from Fred’s face to something just behind him. “Oh, look!” she says excitedly, directing his attention to the storefront behind him.

“Oh no. No, no, no, no, no,” Fred says when he turns around to see what Y/N is pointing to.

They’re standing just in front of a muggle animal shelter. Fred looks down at Y/N’s excited face, frowning. “I said I think about it, Y/N. And I’m still thinking.”

Y/N gives Fred her best innocent look. “I know, I know. But there’s no harm in just looking, right?” She grins up at Fred as she starts to drag him towards the entrance.

-

They’ve only been in the kitten enclosure for a minute when Y/N can start to feel the familiar tingle she gets behind her nose whenever she’s around a cat. But she knows that seeing a kitten will break Fred down and she can’t give up now that her dream is about to be realized. She scrunches up her nose to get rid of the feeling and makes a beeline towards the only black kitten in the room.

“Aw Freddie. Come look at how cute this one is,” Y/N coos as she gently scoops the kitten up. It’s just a bit bigger than the size of her palm and is blinking up at her with large yellow eyes. She resists the urge to nuzzle into its’ soft fur, knowing that it will put her over the edge.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cute,” he mumbles as he comes up behind Y/N, trying to seem disinterested. He reaches a finger out and slowly strokes the kittens head. Any faux toughness he had dissolves as the kitten starts to purr. “I thought we were just supposed to be looking,” he teases lightly.

Y/N smiles up at Fred. She can see the happiness in his eyes and knows that they’re going to be leaving there with a kitten. “We are looking. We’re just looking with our hands,” she responds playfully. Y/N is suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to sneeze and she holds the kitten out to Fred, needing to get away from it as quick as possible. “Here love, hold him.”

Fred takes the kitten from Y/N, eyeing her warily. “Are you alright, love?”

Y/N’s face has screwed up and she is desperately trying to blink away the sneeze she feels building. She tries to nod, thinking of some excuse for her weird behavior when she can no longer hold it in. “Achoo!” Y/N sneezes loudly, scaring the tiny kitten in Fred’s hands.

She hopes to play it off as some dust in her nose, but once she’s started she can’t stop. She sneezes a few times in succession, her eyes starting to water from the force. Unable to contain it anymore, Y/N tiptoes around the kittens that are crawling along the floor, heading towards the exit.

Fred meets her outside of the kitten enclosure a few moments later and she waves away his look of concern. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“What the hell was that in there?” he asks, coming up and wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist. “Thought you were gonna sneeze your brain out or something,” he chuckles.

“No that was just an. Um. Allergy attack,” she admits sheepishly, burying her face in his chest.

Fred starts to rub her back. “An allergy attack?” he asks, his confusion evident in his voice. “You’re allergic to cats?”

Y/N nods sadly, pulling her face out of Fred’s chest so she can look up at him. “Yeah, unfortunately. Mum is too.”

“Then why in the hell do you want a cat?” Fred asks with a laugh, completely confused by Y/N.

“I don’t know, I’ve just always wanted one. They seem pretty cool,” she explains with a shrug. Y/N leans up to press a kiss to Fred’s cheek and then untangles from his embrace. “Come on let’s go, I wanna see if we can adopt that little black kitten. He was so sweet!”

Fred grabs Y/N’s wrist to stop her. “Um, what are you doing? Did you forget what happened back there?” Fred pauses when Y/N pouts at him. “Love I know you want a cat but I can’t let you suffer like that everyday just so you can have one,” he says softly, pulling her back into his chest. He cups her cheek and presses a soft kiss to her lips.

“But, kitten,” she says softly, looking up at him.

Fred smiles down at her and kisses her again. “I know, love. If there was some way for us to get a cat and it didn’t set off your allergies we would. But until that happens we aren’t going to get a cat.”

“Fred, have you ever heard of something called allergy medication?”

-

One hour, a trip to a muggle pharmacy and a pet store later, Y/N is lying in bed with their brand-new kitten sleeping softly on her chest.

“You’re a crazy cat lady, you know that?” Fred says with a laugh as he lays down next to Y/N.

She smiles up at him and tilts her head back to ask for a kiss. After Fred presses their lips together softly she looks back down at their kitten. “Yeah, but I’m your crazy cat lady.”

[purplebass]

I've seen many say that once and if Thomas and Alastair get together, they should get Paris back because it's their place. While I agree that what happened in Paris was a big step in their relationship, I also believe that Paris is also a tainted place and it represents an alternative reality, a secretive reality, and it also connects to Thomas telling Alastair: "You were always my secret".

Why? When Thomastair met there, Alastair was with Charles, and Paris was their hideaway, their secret place. Alastair was Charles' "secret" there. Then Alastair met Thomas, and they spent two great days doing a lot of activities they didn't even know they would enjoy together. The time they spent together cemented their bond more, even on a surface level. Let's not forget that Thomas was still unsure whether he trusted Alastair or not back then. But then, when Alastair came to London a short while later, they are friendly with each other, which means that Paris changed Thomas' opinion on Alastair. "It was the first time I realized you could be kind," Thomas says. The time Thomas spent in Paris with Alastair allowed him to see parts of Alastair he rarely shows in public - or, most likely, that the others refuse to see. Surely, what Alastair showed Thomas in Paris were parts of himself mixed with the persona he shows everyone. But even those little lights were enough for Thomas to see under the surface. Alastair himself says that Thomas understands other people very well.

Paris was an alternative reality, for Thomastair. In that reality, they were alone, far from their acquaintances, doing ordinary things. Thomas was imagining how it would be, if they were together. But Alastair was too focused on Charles to notice. Unlike Charles and Alastair who the former always kept secret from prying eyes, Thomas was not hiding from anyone that he liked talking to Alastair, not even from his friends who judged Alastair. Although he was aware that his friends would not understand why and how could Thomas like Alastair of all people. Thomas couldn't act in Paris, because he wasn't sure that Alastair was like him, as he says. He needed, wanted to know more about Alastair, to see if what he felt and saw in Paris was true.

Thomas hints in the sanctuary that Alastair was his "secret", which it isn't meant in the same way as Alastair being Charles' "secret", because Alastair was Thomas' secret alone. He never told anyone about his feelings, and he only told Alastair when no one was around and he couldn't run away anymore. Thomas seems to have been at war with himself, when he realized he liked Alastair. He might have asked: is it right that I like someone who hurt me in the past? Does he feel the same or this is bound to end badly because he doesn't reciprocates? And other questions people in love might ask themselves. Feelings are not always clear to everyone.

The sanctuary was for Thomas the moment of truth. They were literally locked in there. Alastair realized that it was a little uncomfortable for Thomas, being with him. Not because of Alastair as a person, but because of Thomas' feelings for him, which were something that hurt and lighted Thomas' soul alight at the same time. Thomas was afraid of rejection, of being offended, maybe, which initially happened because Alastair refused to answer to his question about "being like him". You see, the reason why Alastair didn't want to answer directly to Thomas' question is because he thought he should hate him, nor love him. Alastair is convinced that he doesn't deserve Thomas' affection because of the past, but Thomas likes him in spite of their past. The past happened, we can't pretend it didn't. But fuck the past! That's what Thomas probably thinks in the sanctuary. I like you, and you can't tell me what I can't or can feel, Alastair.

And then, Thomas kisses Alastair to make this point clear, thus creating another "Paris", the sanctuary. The sanctuary also provides an alternative reality, since they were locked inside and no one could escape. And that's why, after reality sets back in, that is, after the attack at the Institute is over and Alastair thinks more rationally about what has happened in there, he decides for Thomas that they have to stop there. I don't think it comes down to Thomas saying he was always his "secret", but more to Alastair not wanting Thomas to lose his reality (aka his friends and family) because of what he feels for him. Thomas implied that he couldn't tell the others about his feelings for him because of what had happened in the past between his friends and Alastair, and perhaps, he feels he might be shunned?

Thomas said that Paris was one of his favorite memories with Alastair, and I'm sure the sanctuary is the second, although it didn't end the way he hoped it would.

This is another form of self-punishment for Alastair, who is denying himself the chance at being happy with the person he cares about, because he put Thomas' interest first (as Alastair does with most of the people he cares about). It is a gesture of love in itself, but it is also a selfish choice. Because Alastair decided alone. I bet because of what happened with Charles. With him, it's possible he agreed to be together because Charles wasn't tied to anyone like Thomas is, and his affection for the former blinded his decision-making. He stayed with Charles because he liked him, and didn't want to be alone? But with Thomas is different. Thomas has friends who don't like Alastair. Heck, I think only Matthew at this point. James and Kit wouldn't care that Thomas is in love with Alastair, as long as Thomas is happy, that's what I think. But Thomas doesn't know that, because he never came forward with his feelings. Not that he had to, but isn't that what friends are for? Listening to us. Alastair doesn't want to be anyone's burden, therefore he thinks it's safe to end things with Thomas before they can even start anything.

I'm thinking that in COT, Thomas will realize this and I hope he fights for Alastair and for them to be together, out in the sun. Perhaps not in the way that everyone will know about them, because it was still a crime back then. But the problems who count for both of them will know about their relationship, and will accept it. The problem here is not even being a "secret". What worries Alastair the most in my opinion, is that Thomas will lose everything if he stays with him, which, again, shouldn't be his problem, but it is because he cares for Thomas. Once Thomas realizes this, he's going to actively go after Alastair to show him that he is important to him. He is important like the others are important. And if the others have to say something about him and the person he cares about, then fuck them. People can't always like the ones we like. But if they love us, they will understand and support us. Alastair and the Merry Thieves don't seem to be in good terms, but he understands that they are also part of Thomas' life, that's what I mean.

[sapphiccrypt]

The Names You Call Me

Oh boy- I don’t have an Ao3 account so I guess I’m putting this here.

Ship: Wanda x Agatha (MCU) AU: Soulmate AU Word Count: 2578 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Agatha had been around for a while- of course she had. She was a witch from all the way back in the time of the Salem Witch Trials. However, in the roughly estimated 350 years she’d been alive (she’d lost count around the first World War), she hadn’t figured out who her soulmate was. Everyone had one, or at least, everyone was supposed to. Every little nickname or term of endearment your soulmate called you was supposed to be inked somewhere on your skin. However, she herself had been a blank canvas for centuries. It’s not like she minded, she was always more focused on acquiring more magical knowledge.

However, this didn’t stop the witch from giving little nicknames to everyone. It had become a habit over time. Was it so that she’d finally find her supposed soulmate one day? Or perhaps it was just to prove to herself that said soulmate didn’t exist and would never exist. Either way, this habit hadn’t shown any positive results, at least, that’s what she thought. 

It was one of her habits that carried over into the nosy neighbor persona she had become forced to play. 

------ 

Wanda’s parents always told them about soulmates, how those little names that appeared on your skin were supposed to be so meaningful and lovely. Oh how she wished that was the case. Of course, life always seemed to want to throw a curveball at her. 

She was in her cabin in the vast wilderness when she had decided to shower. As she stepped out, her hair was intricately braided with magic. She had decided to check said braid in the mirror when she noticed something that made her heart sink. 

Written in small lettering along her lower back were different words. Wanda knew what this meant, of course she did. Everyone was told about soulmates. There were so many rom coms and tv shows about it. Hell- in the show she’d weaved together from the town of Westview, she’d finally been able to make Vision and herself soulmates. However, the few nicknames the deceased synthezoid had called her in the past weren’t written there.

Instead, there were ones like “buttercup,” “hon,” and “toots,” among a few others. In the back of her mind, she knew where those nicknames came from- who those nicknames came from. She stared at the writing for a while. Why her of all people? The one that betrayed her and tried to take her magic? Why couldn’t it have been Vision, or anyone else for that matter? Why did it have to be Agatha?

The mirror shatters.

------ 

Agatha didn’t know how long she was trapped in the lonely and painstakingly quiet void of own mind. Mere minutes could feel like years just for the next hour to pass like milliseconds. Feeling and watching herself do and say things, think things, without it really being her was a fate worse than death. No matter how hard she would scream, no one could hear her there.

Agnes, meanwhile, was brewing herself a morning cup of coffee. She had always been a coffee person, for as long as she could remember, just like she had always been living in the quiet town of Westview. Of course, she found her hobbies. Along with being the neighborhood gossip, she would tend to her garden and watch fun movies. It was a simple life, and she liked it, despite the part of herself buried deep within the far corners of her mind that told her this wasn’t what she should be doing.

As the housewife was pouring her coffee into one of her many ornate mugs, a knock at the door echoed above the noise of the television and her own humming. She almost spilled her coffee but set the pot aside on the counter. “I’ll be there in just a moment!” Agnes called as she speed-walked over to the door and opened it to see her former neighbor. 

“Wanda! What a pleasant surprise,” Agnes began with the same neighborly smile she always put on. The one that seemed so permanent that her cheeks would often hurt after a while. “And here I thought you had forgotten about little ol’ Agnes,” she teased, stepping out of the doorway so the other could enter. “Please, come on in.”

Wanda would nod, smiling calmly over at the other. “It’s nice to see you again, Agnes,” she’d comment as she looked around the neatly decorated house. The whole place had a sickeningly sweet atmosphere, as to be expected of the role she had put upon the other. She sat down on the couch Agnes guided her over to, looking over at the sitcom playing on the television. She had been meaning to watch that one.

“Would you like anything to drink? Coffee, tea, something a little more...adult?” Agnes asked with a mischievous smirk as she moved into the kitchen. “Take your pic, pumpkin.”

She looked down as the other called her a new nickname, knowing it was probably added to the list of words that were written on her back. “Tea is fine, thanks,” the Sokovian woman commented, quietly resting her hands in her lap as she prepared for what was to come. Hopefully the runes she’d placed on the house and Agatha herself would stop her from attacking or playing with her mind again.

Agnes rambled on about life in Westview and tidbits of gossip she’d picked up on since the other had left the small New Jersey town. Soon enough, the shrill noise of the teapot pierced the air and she prepared the other’s drink, walking in with both mugs after reheating her own coffee. 

Wanda talked with Agnes for a few minutes, thanking her for the tea and sipping it as they chatted and watched the television program. When the other set her mug down on the coffee table, the younger witch moved a glowing red hand to the other’s temple, bringing back the witch that she had previously locked away. 

Agatha’s eyes widened and she gasped as all her senses came back to her and she was in her own mind again. She looked over at Wanda, stumbling away from the other on the couch some before her gaze narrowed. “What do you want?” She asked. She knew deep down she couldn’t really do much besides listen to the other, as she couldn’t feel the usual buzz of magic underneath her skin.

“Well it’s nice to see you too, Agatha.” Wanda said, still keeping a calm demeanor about her as she looked over at the other. “I had to come by and see how my nosy neighbor was doing.”

The older of the two grumbled as she got up, blue eyes gazing at the other and desperately trying to figure out her motives. “You and I both know that isn’t the reason, Red.” Agatha commented. At least she was herself again, although being powerless like this was still worse than death, in her opinion.

Wanda sighed. What was with this woman and all her nicknames? She was sure her back was soon to be covered in words. “I just want to talk,” she paused, considering her next words. “Ags.” She noticed the hint of some marking on the other’s left arm, although it was mainly covered by her sleeve.

Agatha looked a bit surprised at the nickname before glaring once more. “What do you want to talk about.” She muttered, sitting down at a chair adjacent to the other. She didn’t really want to talk, but she didn’t quite want to be Agnes again either.

“Well- I have two things. First, a sort of proposal of sorts,” Wanda replied. “You said I would need you, so this is a time to make yourself needed. Teach me the secrets of the Darkhold, I know you know it well.” Some of the spells in the book were quite confusing, and at times the book itself seemed like it didn’t want to be read, and surely giving this incentive would give her the insight she needed on the book.

“The second...” she began again, “....is this,” Wanda said as red magic rolled up the left sleeve of the other’s shirt, causing Agatha to tense some. “Take a look for yourself.”

The brunette’s gaze settled on her arm, eyes widening as she read out the small, 3 letter nickname the other had just called her. She opened her mouth to speak for a moment before promptly closing it right afterwards. She was silent for what seemed like eternity before she let out a low chuckle.

“You must be covered then, huh, dearie?”

------ 

Months passed as the two resided in Wanda’s cabin. The Scarlet Witch’s training was going alright- save for a few clearings in the forest that definitely weren’t there before. Overtime, arguments and harsh words turned to cheeky and sarcastic remarks. Neither of them brought up the soulmate thing too much, as if the situation was a creature one would be advised not to poke with a stick. This didn’t stop Agatha from coming up with new nicknames just to add to the collection and tick off Wanda, however. Meanwhile her own arm was mostly bare save for a few names she was called when the other wanted to try at the game that the older witch was playing. 

It was late morning, Wanda was usually the first to wake up, whether it was from her just being an early riser or nightmares she got frequently was up for debate. She prepared a small meal, just some bacon and eggs, making her some tea. Agatha often made her own coffee, through normal or magical needs.

She had decided after a couple weeks to let Agatha use her magic, as trust had grown between the two and it was easier for the magic lessons to have someone who could actually use magic. Agatha hadn’t attacked or anything, she seemed to know it wouldn’t end well. Plus, through the passing months, both women were beginning to take a liking to one another, whether they wanted to admit it or not. 

Agatha came down from her room a few minutes after Wanda had sat down for breakfast, pushing messy brunette hair out of her face so her vision wasn’t obscured. She grabbed a mug, magically making herself some coffee before getting a portion of breakfast and sitting down across from Wanda at the small wooden dining table.

“Good morning.” Wanda commented with a soft smile. Although part of herself hated to say it, she really enjoyed Agatha’s company. She had grown to enjoy the little nicknames, the teasing remarks, the way her laugh made her feel like her heart was made of butterflies. Disregard that last part.

Agatha nodded, sipping her coffee. “Morning.” She said, taking a few bites of breakfast that the other had prepared. “This is good, buttercup.” She smirked some at the other before sipping her coffee. “Ready for today’s practice?” 

Wanda looked up from her cup of tea and over at who had become her mentor. “Of course.” She responded. Her control over her magic had been getting better, and she’d been learning all sorts of spells and runes from the other witch.

After breakfast, the two women got changed and went out into the forest, into one of the clearings that had been there before the two had started using the area for magic practices. This spot was quite peaceful, and the two spent many hours reading through the Darkhold, along with other books of magic that Agatha had acquired over the centuries of her life.

Practice went as normal, going over a few new runes and such, like one Agatha had used to block out her mind from the other’s telepathy in Westview. It was a difficult rune but Wanda had proved to be a quick and skilled learner. After a couple more runes, Agatha would switch over to spells. 

Wanda didn’t like to admit that elemental magic was really frustrating. How was chaos and creation easier than controlling water? The two had moved to a nearby creek for this spell. Agatha instructed how to control the water but each try ended in one or both of them getting splashed. 

Agatha had an idea and moved closer to Wanda. “Here.” She began, standing behind her and placing her hands on her wrists, ignoring the quickened beating of her heart. Yeah, she was falling for the other, who also happened to be her soulmate, so be it. She’d deal with that “problem” later. “You have to follow the flow of the water with your body, be fluid in your movements and calm in your emotions.” 

It was hard to be calm when Agatha was against her like this and her cheeks were tinted the same color of her magic, but Wanda was determined to get this seemingly simple spell down. She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths as she tried to cast the spell, moving in tandem with her mentor. Things seemed to be going quite well, opening one eye to see the water moving with them.

Until she fell, of course.

She had heard a rustling in the bushes and her concentration broke and caused her to stumble and fall forward, Agatha falling along with her into the cold shallow water. A deer ran out of their view. Wanda began to apologize before the other let out what was probably the most genuine laugh she’d ever heard, causing her already pounding heart to skip a few beats. She found herself laughing along.

Agatha stood up, helping the other to her feet as well. “Well that’s a way to become one with the water,” she teased, smiling at Wanda. “If I wasn’t already awake, I definitely am now.” She added before smirking and splashing the other.

“Hey!” The younger witch exclaimed as the cold water made her shiver, although the smile she had on never left her lips. “No fair,” she added before splashing the other in return. 

Agatha chuckled before reaching over to move some wet hair out of the other’s face. Her hand lingered on her cheek for a moment as their eyes met before she quickly looked away, going to climb out of the creek before a hand grabbed hers, and she looked back at Wanda. “What is it, darling?” She asked.

Wanda ignored how much the nickname made her face heat up. She hadn’t really been thinking as she grabbed the other’s hand, and she ended up staring into the other’s eyes for longer than most normal friends would. Her heart kept beating and she felt like if she didn’t say something to break the tension would be infinite.

“I think I’m falling for you.”

Ok- anything but that.

The older witch was the one blushing now, before chuckling softly as their fingers intertwined. “And here I thought you couldn’t stand me.” She teased, smiling at the other as they moved closer to one another.

It doesn’t matter who ended up kissing who, what matters is that it happened, and neither seemed to want to pull away.

When they finally did so, Wanda found herself leaning into Agatha’s touch as the other woman caressed her cheek, and she entangled one of her hands into the other’s unruly dark hair. 

“I don’t think I mind being your soulmate, Aggie.”

Another mark appeared on Agatha’s arm, and they both leaned in for another kiss

[thanxxskz]

I just saw your post about requests and I was wondering if you could write an enemies to lovers fic, angst with a happy ending for Minho?

hi! i don't usually write angst because i suck at it hsshs but i hope i did well and that it was what you expected and you like it! sorry for the wait too.

misunderstanding - l.mh

minho and you had been enemies since you met in high school, it kept going till you graduated and continued in university, because that was your luck, he seemed to follow you everywhere.

you didn't even remember why or how this enemy thing started. at one point, you were ready to end it, but minho was an asshole - to you - and then you decided that if he wanted war, he would have it. you were no damn coward.

on the other hand, minho hated you - or strongly disliked you - and every time you asked him why, he would roll his eyes and say "tsk, as if you don't remember" but you really didn't.

one day, you were in the cafe near your university. you had a free hour, so you and your best friend, sook, went there. your morning hadn't been the best, so you were kinda in a bad mood.

"cheer up, y/n, the day will get better"

you looked at her "it definitely won't" you said, as you saw minho entering the cafe. he went to the counter and ordered and you were praying to whoever was up there that he didn't look at you.

you sighed when he looked at you and smirked.

"oh, y/n, whatcha doing here?"

"please leave me alone, minho, today's not a good day"

"as if" he snorted and left.

your friend looked at you, and you couldn't believe that, for once, he left you alone. yeah, he laughed at you but he left.

---

it was the afternoon, you were still at your university because you had homework left and a few projects that you wanted to finish.

the door opened and when you looked up, you saw minho. you rolled your eyes and kept working on everything. he sat in the table in front of you, you could see his back.

again, you found yourself thinking of what did you ever do to him for him to treat you like this. before he got mad at you and started being an ass, you were friends. not the best friends kinda friends, but you were on good terms. it happened so long ago, but it still bothered you.

"can i know what did i ever do to you?" you said "i can't stop thinking about what you said, and the more i think, more confused i am"

minho turned to you "are you being serious right now? you don't really remember what you did? wow"

you shook your head "we were on good terms, and you were nice to me, why would i ever not treat you well?"

he looked at the wall "remember when rumors spread that i was going to confess to you before the end of second year?" you nodded "they were true, i was going to confess. i even told your best friend of the time, areum, so she could help me. but then, later that day, i passed by the bathrooms and hear her speak with other girls, without you. the conversation was about me and you, apparently she had told you that i was going to confess and your reaction wasn't the best-"

"that's why you make my life hell sometimes?!"

"let me finish. your reaction wasn't the best and you supposedly said that you were my friend out of pity and that it was disgusting that someone like me even thought that had any chance with you. i didn't want to believe it, but days later, you started to avoid me"

you looked at him, without saying a word. you got up from your seat "you know, i know you were stupid, but not to this extent. back then, i thought you knew me, but i just realised you didn't. at all. don't talk to me, pretend i don't exist. if you still are in contact with areum, i'd recommend to ask her about this"

you left, leaving with a loud bang.

"fuck her, fuck him, and fuck everyone"

---

minho didn't want to talk to areum about this. is not like he was still in contact with her, but there was a little friendship between the both of them. minho finally decided to call her.

"yes, minho? it's weird for you to call" she said

"hm... i wanted to ask you about y/n. i had a small argument with her today, about our past and-"

"lee minho! for how long are you going to be like this? this happened ages ago. she was a bitch to you. yes, you didn't find out in the best way, but you needed to know. i've been here since then, when are you gonna acknowledge me?"

she hung up. minho thought her reaction was weird, but well, she had always been like this.

---

for the next days, you ignored minho. if he waved at you, if he approached you, if he even sat near you... after his little confesion, you were beyond mad.

you told sook what happened, and even her thought that everything was messed up. you had cut ties with areum in your third year of high-school. she started spreading rumors about you, and you ended the friendship. but you didn't know or even think that she could have said something to minho.

truth is, when minho told you he was going to confess back then, your heart skipped a bit. areum never told you anything about it, and you didn't understand why she would say such things or even talk about them with other girls. and casualty, minho was passing by. there was no other option: she knew minho was passing by at the time.

as mad as you were, you wanted to clear up things with minho. your university life had been hell just because he decided to be stupid.

"doesn't matter how the conversation ends, it's the best you can do, y/n" sook told you

you didn't have minho's number, so you left a note in his locker, to meet you in one of the classes. of course, you didn't say in the note that it was you because you knew he wouldn't come then.

at five o'clock, you were waiting in the class. you decided to hide behind the open door. when minho entered, he saw no one. you then closed the door "sit there, we're gonna talk. i don't care if you don't, you'll hear me anyways" you locked the door and kept the key in your pockets.

he looked at you "i never knew that you were going to confess. never. i don't care what that areum bitch said. she must've know back then that you were passing by the bathrooms. i wasn't avoiding you, i actually went through something but it wasn't my intention to avoid you, sorry about that" you said all at once "you could've talk to me about it, stupid boy"

you were about to pick up your things and leave, but he held your wrist "i should be the one saying sorry. yesterday i called areum and she had a really weird reaction. that made me think that maybe you didn't know anything and she just played with my feeling as she pleased. i understand that you don't want to talk to me again, i just wanted to apologise"

you nodded at him "not everything's lost... maybe we can go step by step, if you want"

you left him in the classroom, thinking how he'd be able to repair the damages in your old friendship. he still liked you, and he really wanted you back.

---

minho made his mission to be friends, at least. you found him waiting for you in front of your classes, inviting you for lunch and even introducing his close friends to you.

"...so this is chan hyung, then there's changbin, hyunjin, jisung, felix, seungmin and our dear youngest, jeongin"

"nice to meet you all, i'm y/n, old friend of-"

"we know, we know" jisung said "he hasn't stopped talking about you since your small reconciliation, we know even your favourite color"

you blushed and looked at minho, who was sending glares to his friend while the rest laughed

"i have to get to know ya, then? it's only fair" you smiled

after a while, you knew what their majors were. chan, changbin and jisung were majoring in music production; felix and hyunjin were majoring in dancing, just like you and minho, but were a grade below you and minho. you remember seeing them. seungmin was majoring in veterinary medicine and jeongin in early childhood education; you all had lots of topics to talk about.

---

a few months passed, and your relationship with minho was only growing stronger. he had stopped being stupid and whatever happened in the past, you both decided to keep it there.

"do you wanna come over to my house?" he asked "we can order delivery, my treat, and watch a movie. you can also meet my cats"

he was fiddling with the ends of his shirt, so you knew he was nervous.

"is it a date?"

he looked at you "n-no. i mean, y-yes? if you want it to be?"

you laughed and held his hand, something you both liked to do even if you were just friends "i'd love that"

a few hours later, you were at his house, he told you to sit in the sofa, where his cats were. you ended up sitting on the floor not to bother his cats.

"what are you doing there?" he said

"i didn't want to bother them. they're sleeping so peacefully..." you said, smiling while looking at them.

minho swears in that moment his heart did a backflip and he stopped breathing for a second. he couldn't stop smiling at you.

"let's order?" he asked, and you nodded.

half an hour later, the food arrived and you decided to play a movie. you ended up watching one that minho chose. in the middle of the movie, you started to feel sleepy, so you put your head on his shoulder. feeling brave, he put your hair behind your ear and held your hand.

"are you tired? i can turn off the movie"

"hm. let's cuddle, i want to cuddle with you"

he wasn't someone that liked hugs, but hugging with you was something that he had been waiting for a long time to do.

after a while, he decided to speak, but you were first.

"i like you, minho. and i don't know if you like me back or not. but these past few months we've been doing this small acts, holding hands, cuddling, meeting up without the rest... i like being like this, cuddling with you and enjoy being like this. i really like you, no empty feelings"

minho stayed quiet and he felt like he was about to cry "i like you to, y/n, always have always will"

he put his hand on your cheek, and tilted his head so he could kiss you.

you felt something explode inside of you, it felt like you reached infinite happiness. you kissed him back, obviously, and started fidgeting with his hair.

"you're mine, and i'm yours"

you smiled "of course, baby"

---

[jackiearbs]

things that rwrb characters have said that i will never forget, a thread:

alex claremont-diaz, giving off dumbass™ energy (he has the most on this thread, for obvious reasons) 

- "put them in my room, put them in my room, put them in my room-" 

-  “Jesus Christ, it’s like they can see into your soul. cornbread knows my sins, Henry. cornbread knows what I have done, and he is here to make me atone.”   

- "do it for the 'gram"

- "leading member of korean pop band bts kim nam-june" 

- "whatever, fine. henry is annoyingly attractive. that’s always been a thing, objectively. it’s fine.”

- "see attached bibliography"

- "i said, you look great, baby!”

- "yo there’s a bond marathon on and did you know your dad was a total babe"

- "awesome, fuckin' love doing things out of spite.”

-”Huge Raging Headache Prince Henry of Who Cares”

-”it is amazing you can sit down to write emails with that gigantic royal stick up your ass.” 

- “who names a dog David? He sounds like a tax attorney.”

-” “Do I go on your side of the cubicle and turn off your Dropkick Murphys Spotify station, no matter how much I want to?” Alex demands. “No, Hunter, I don’t.”

- “for fuck's sake, man, you just had my dick in your mouth, you can kiss me good-night.”

- “Bake Off makes Chopped look like the fucking Manson tapes.”

- “THEY KNOW. THEY KNOW I HAVE ROBBED THEM OF FIVE-STAR ACCOMMODATIONS TO SIT IN A CAGE IN MY ROOM, AND THE MINUTE I TURN MY BACK THEY ARE GOING TO FEAST ON MY FLESH.”

- “You’re from Boston, Hunter. You really want to talk about all the places bigotry comes from?” (he really hates hunter goddamn) 

-”so, what? you want me to quit politics and go become a princess? that’s not very feminist of you.” 

hrh prince dickhead😎  - "the moment you first called me a prick, my fate was sealed. O, fathers of my bloodline! O, ye kings of olde! Take this crown from me, bury me in my ancestral soil. If only you had known the mighty work of thine loins would be undone by a gay heir who likes it when American boys with chin dimples are mean to him.”

-"“I’ve been gay as a maypole since the day I came out of Mum, Philip.”

-”i will turn this car around.”

- “yes, the cocaine, alex.” 

-”i am a delight!”

-”have i mentioned lately that you’re a demon?” 

- “are you psychoanalyzing me? i don't think royal guests are allowed to do that.”

- "i can't believe even mortal peril will not prevent you from being the way you are.”

-“the phrase ‘see attached bibliography’ is the single sexiest thing you have ever written to me.”

-"i just mean to say, you know, Philip is the heir and I'm the spare, and if that nervy bastard has a heart attack at thirty five and I've got malaria, whither the spare?”

- “they wanted something less fruity than the truth, but truly, what is gayer than a woman who languishes away in a crumbling mansion wearing her wedding gown every day of her life, for the drama?”

- “You are a delinquent and a plague. Please come?”

- “fat and sexually conquered, snuffed out in the spring of my youth. Here lies Prince Henry of Wales. He died as he lived: avoiding plans and sucking cock.”

june:  “- that is a clear quartz crystal for good vibes do not @ me.” 

- “He’s just so frail, it’d only take one good push-”

- “ugh! men! no emotional vocabulary. i can’t believe our ancestors survived centuries of wars and plagues and genocide just to wind up with your sorry ass.” 

nora: 

-”sorry, are we not? did i skip ahead again? my bad. hello, would you like to come out to me? im listening. hi.” 

“prince henry is a biscuit. let him sop you up.”  

- “you’ve been, like, Draco Malfoy–level obsessed with Henry for years.”

- “i don’t know, man. I was in my junior year of high school, and I touched a boob. It wasn’t very profound. Nobody’s gonna write an Off-Broadway play about it.”

dahra: 

- “You need to get back to fucking England now, and if anyone sees you leave, I will personally end you. Ask me if I’m afraid of the crown.”

- “both sides need to come out of this looking like your little slap-fight at the wedding was some homoerotic frat bro mishap, okay? So, you can hate the heir to the throne all you want, write mean poems about him in your diary, but the minute you see a camera, you act like the sun shines out of his dick, and you make it convincing.”

-”come on, you backyard-shooting-range motherfuckers,”

ellen (should i say PRESIDENT claremont) 

- “Diaz, you insane, hopeless romantic little shit"

-  “I had Planned Parenthood send over all these pamphlets, take one! They sent a bike messenger and everything!”

- ”where? Are you hiding a turkey habitat up your ass, son? Where, in our historically protected house, am I going to put a couple of turkeys until I pardon them tomorrow?”

-“As your mother, I can appreciate that maybe this isn’t your fault, but as the president, all I want is to have the CIA fake your death and ride the dead-kid sympathy into a second term.”

PEZ !!!

- “frolic naked in the hills, frighten the sheep, return to the house for the usual: tea, biscuits, casting ourselves onto the Thighmaster of love to moan about the Claremont-Diaz siblings, which has become tragically one-sided since Henry took it up with you. It used to be all bottles of cognac and shared malaise and ‘When will they notice us’-” 

-”-and now i just ask henry, ‘what is your secret?’ and he says, ‘i insult alex all the time, and that seems to work.’” 

**extra: nicer quotes from alex and henry 

alex heartthrob diaz  - "never tell me the odds"

-"we were not afforded that liberty."

-“I hate this so much. I know. But we’re gonna do it together. And we’re gonna make it work. You and me and history, remember? We’re just gonna fucking fight. Because you’re it, okay? I’m never gonna love anybody in the world like I love you. So, I promise you, one day we’ll be able to just be, and fuck everyone else.”

- “On purpose. I love him on purpose.”

- “history, huh? Bet we could make some.”

- “But the truth is, also, simply this: love is indomitable.”

-“Take anything you want and know you deserve to have it.”

- “Someone else’s choice doesn’t change who you are.”

- “I am the First Son of the United States, and I'm bisexual. History will remember us.”

- “America: He is my choice.”

- “Give yourself away sometimes, sweetheart, There's so much of you.”

- the entire list of the things he loves about henry. i would die 

henry: 

-”i’ll be damned but i miss you.” 

- “when you rang me at truly shocking hours of the night, I loved you. When you kissed me in disgusting public toilets and pouted in hotel bars and made me happy in ways in which it had never even occurred to me that a mangled-up, locked-up person like me could be happy, I loved you. and then, inexplicably, you had the absolute audacity to love me back. Can you believe it?”

- “it sounds like you did your best.”

- “I’ve bloody well had it. I’ve sat about long enough letting you and Gran and the weight of the damned world keep me pinned, and I’m finished. I don’t care. You can take your legacy and your decorum and you can shove it up your fucking arse, Philip. I’m done.”

- “Should I tell you that when we’re apart, your body comes back to me in dreams? That when I sleep, I see you, the dip of your waist, the freckle above your hip, and when I wake up in the morning, it feels like I’ve just been with you, the phantom touch of your hand on the back of my neck fresh and not imagined? That I can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache? That, for a few moments, I can hold my breath and be back there with you, in a dream, in a thousand rooms, nowhere at all?”

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

the conclusion to the fëanorian tauriel saga! this one’s mostly about the state of affairs after she gets adopted into everyone’s favourite family of murderers, plus a couple of extra bits and bobs. there’s some more stuff i’d like to put down somewhere - a deleted scene, a minific - but this is mostly the end of my headcanons for this particular au. so far, anyway. part 1 part 2 part 3

mandos may have, in the past, given off the impression that fëanor would remain within the halls until dagor dagorath

that statement was always a bit of a conflation of terms. like everybody else in the halls, fëanor would get a clean pass for reinbodiment as and when he attended elf afterlife therapy and got a handle on his shit. it’s just nobody thought he would ever do that

but he has done that, and more besides. he’s honestly been clear to go for a while now, he just refused to leave until his sons were ready

and since then... mandos will admit to certain political pressures exerted towards keeping fëanor under lock and key

but over time, those pressures slowly yield to the fact that mandos absolutely cannot deal with this lunatic for the rest of arda

death has not put a damper on fëanor’s unstoppability. he was preoccupied for a long while with the damage done to his sons but with them all out he had a conspicious lack of things to Do

and a bored fëanor is a dangerous fëanor

so yeah. fëanor is less released from the halls of mandos as he is unceremoniously kicked out. mandos refuses to talk about it. the maiar of the halls throw a massive party

this all happens on extremely short notice. as in, manwë announces his release like half a day before it happens

this of course throws his extended family (and a decent proportion of the rest of the continent) into this massive frenzied whirlwind of panic. everybody thought they’d get more warning than this, and nobody knows what’s going to happen next

at the epicentre of this maelstrom is the elf himself. fëanor doesn’t know either, he’s still trying to catch up on everyone he left behind and everything that’s gone down since he died. so much has changed, and he’s still stumbling groggily in the darkness

at some point between his long-practiced apology to finarfin and the maglor encounter everyone’s been dreading, though, he makes an unexpected discovery

he has a daughter now. apparently

her name’s tauriel, she smells like woodsmoke. he first meets her when she wanders into the living room, blinks blearily for a couple of seconds, goes ‘hi dad!’ and immediately falls asleep on his lap

and it’s not like he’s not incredibly stoked to have another child, it’s just how???

the first time he asks this question, the motley collection of relatives and old friends he’s talking to all come to the same conclusion

they can either (a) walk him through the history of tauriel’s growing friendship with and eventual adoption into the least reputable branch of the house of finwë or (b) dump the latest copy of the grand unified tauriel conspiracy theory on him with absolutely no context

considering they’re the hellfamily and friends, they go for the chaos option

it takes fëanor, like, two days to read it. the thing was ridiculously elaborate even before people started competing to come up with the craziest possible theories

the people around him keep the ruse going as long as they can stretch it. eventually celebrimbor takes pity on him, and legolas fills in the details

(legolas currently occupies a position in the fëanorian internal hierarchy not dissimilar to fingon’s. he has no idea how to interpret that)

fëanor also just. talks to tauriel. about how she came, and why she stayed

the next day, fëanor loudly announces to the entirety of tirion that he has a new daughter, her name is tauriel and she’s amazing

she’s been a de facto part of the house for years but this is the first official confirmation of it. the news, and the gossip, spreads all over aman

not that this marks a massive turning point for tauriel. even without a big announcement, she made which side she was on pretty clear back when shit went down

and honestly her life hasn’t changed that much since then. she still spends most of her time exploring noldorin country or chilling in the forest with her silvan friends

this isn’t too uncommon a situation for a member of the house of fëanor. they usually do their own thing, whatever that may be. even nerdanel abandons her house every so often to spend a year or two in the mountains

even in tirion, it’s not that different. she still crashes in the same place, hangs with the same people

she just also occasionally does stuff for :mobster voice: the family

she’s part of the second generation’s extremely overprotective mutual defence web. she has a few responsibilities vis-a-vis the definitely-not-minions. she’s not quite as magnetic as her older brothers, but she’s charismatic enough people tend to both legitimately like and let their guard down around her

she goes to court events sometimes, if she’s in town and in the mood. she’s not virulently allergic to it like celegorm but she doesn’t thrive there the way elrond does. she prefers lower-city forge parties. way more booze, way less bling

(the greenwood elves have stopped needing to bring her along to every political meeting for quote-unquote moral support. everyone knows who she rides with now, and the court bureaucrats tend to give her people whatever they want without the need for extortion)

she’s not the rowdiest of fëanor and nerdanel’s brood, but that’s really not saying much. she’s kicked off the last vestiges of social respectably and indulges fully in her family’s ability to do whatever they want, whenever they want, because who’s seriously going to tell a kinslayer they can’t do something?

a decent proportion of the population of tirion, it turns out. eh, the arguments are always fun

that’s the state of tauriel’s life when fëanor comes back. afterwards - like i said, it doesn’t change terribly much, fëanor rocking valinor to its core notwithstanding

he is massively, intensely supportive of everything she does. she knows that it’s partially that this family is just Like That, but she also gets the vibe he’s overinvesting a little? she’s the only one of his children who doesn’t have a reason to hate him

but they get along fine. he’s had a lot of practice at being a dad, and is trying to improve on his personal faults. his relationship with her is blissfully uncomplicated compared to the mess most of his pre-death bonds are, and while she’ll protect her brothers from him if need be she’ll protect him too when the world is out to get him

there’s this moment at one of those fancy court galas. tauriel’s chatting with some sindarin visitors when something explodes a few rooms away

almost immediately, she locks gazes with curufin, who’s peoplewatching some distance away. they have a conversation conducted entirely in eyeflicks that could be summarised as ‘did he just...’ ‘alas he probably did’

they stride out of the hall together to rescue their idiot dad from the consequences of his terrible decisions

that’s another subtlety to the way the fëanorians work, tauriel is discovering. the siblings hellspawn may be a constant fight cloud of bickering nutbags (with the obvious exception of herself) but they all always out-sane their dad

she keeps learning things like this as the years roll on and her families get closer. she finds silvans having tea with nerdanel, tirion craftselves looking for her in the woods. across both of her worlds, she’s building a posse

(just like her brothers did, long long ago under the light of the trees. when next the host rides to war, there will be those who follow tauriel’s banner)

even legolas has mostly gotten over it. their initial friendship, after all, was founded on them both being chaos children. tauriel is one in a way they called silvan in greenwood and noldorin in aman, fully conscious that the powers that be disapprove of her shenanigans and deliberately and vindictively defying them

legolas’ style is more sindarin, vaguely aware that the rules exist but doesn’t really understand how they apply to him. he did sneak a dwarf up the straight road, after all. him and tauriel got up to so much nonsense when they were kids, and no matter who else she runs with, he’ll always be her best friend

he’ll never be fully comfortable with the literal childhood horror stories she’s taken up with, but for her sake he’s willing to try. they might be scary, but, he’s realising, they can be fun too

(even if he does spend most of their family gatherings hiding behind elrond)

and then, one day...

tauriel doesn’t exactly pine for kíli, but she does kind of regret how it all turned out. she wonders what being in a relationship with him would have been like, sometimes

but he’s a dwarf, and she’s an elf, and she can’t leave the undying lands, and dwarves aren’t supposed to come here. they are sundered until the breaking of the world

when she tells this to fëanor, this massive smug grin spreads across his face. ‘unless’

three hours later, they’ve turned fëanor’s front room into a base of operations. maedhros is on project management, caranthir is on logistics, amras is going down a list of maiar they can strongarm. celebrimbor stops by, looks at the plans on the walls, and, somewhat excitedly, goes ‘are we breaking into the dwarven afterlife???’

yes. yes they are

epilogue:

when the end comes and all elves return to cuivénen, certain people tauriel knew back in middle-earth discover what she’s been doing for the past few ages

they get the full skinny later, after they talk to her and stuff, but the first whisper they hear is ‘tauriel’s been taken in by the fëanorians’

reactions vary. tauriel’s mama, who doesn’t recognise the name, goes ‘the spirits of fire? that’s sounds so much like her, i’m so happy she’s made friends’

tauriel’s mummy, who does recognise the name, is laughing too hard to speak

and thranduil cradles his head in his hands. ‘of course’ he mutters ‘of course she fucking did’

[what-the--curtains]

In a Week

Part 1/4 - A storm blows into town

(Frankie “catfish” Morales x f!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: a drive down to a friends wedding gets complicated when you fail to head a warning.

Authors notes: Hello! Another fic cause it keeps snowing here and I’m SICK OF IT but wouldn’t mind it if I was stuck with Frankie💕. Anyways hope you enjoy as always comments are welcome but be nice!

TW: mentions of dead sibling (war related), swearing, mentions of a toxic relationship (based off of personal experience)

Tagged list: @agingerindenial

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~There was nothing worse than a February wedding, well at least one that took place in the frigid northern temperatures you were currently residing in. So you were eternally grateful that your best friend Stella had chosen to have hers down in sunny south Carolina where she had just accepted her first permanent hospital position. She was marrying her first love, a fact you’d usually cringe at but, they were extremely cute together. Stella had met Genevieve through her brothers Will and Benny, well more specifically Will, who had drunkenly run his head through a window one night. This incident resulted in two things, first a nickname that would stick with Will for the rest of his life and a late night call to Stella asking her to come down to the hospital to pick him up. The boys had put Stella down as their emergency contact in an effort to keep their antics hidden from their parents who they knew would only worry. The nurse patching up her idiot brother was none other than Genevieve who was working through her university's clinical course, and the rest? Well, the rest was history

You’d met Genevieve, as well as Will and Benny, sporadically throughout the 8 years you had roomed with Stella, first during your undergraduate degree at Boston University and then again at Stanford while attending medical school. You’d choses Stella as a roommate without much thought, but after just a few weeks together you were inseparable up until the day that you were assigned to your residency. You were slightly jealous when you found out that she would be spending the next four years in the warm embrace of Carolina (and Gen) while you would be living alone throughout the freezing Chicago winters. The pagne of jealousy didn’t last long though, Chicago med was your first choice after all. So here you were, in the last year of residency and in the middle of a brutal -20 degree winter, preparing to drive the 13 hours down to watch Stella get married. You’d considered flying but you knew how fickle airplanes could be in the winter and the last thing you wanted was a delayed flight because a door had frozen shut. Your friends had tried to convince you that driving down alone was far too dangerous a venture and none were more concerned than Santiago Garcia.

You’d known Santiago your whole life. Him being your brother's best friend resulted in him spending a lot of, some may argue too much, time at your house throughout both your childhoods. Your brother, Parker, was 8 years your senior, an age gap that often resulted in an argument over which one of you was the accident. An argument which usually ended with an agreement that in all likelihood you both were. Every summer from before you were born to the time they left for the military the two boys were a constant presence in your life. Hell, even after he left you’d watched him grow as he passed through your household over Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks. One thing was for sure, if Parker was there Satiago Garcia wasn't far behind. He was also there the day you received the news that your brother had gone MIA and he was by your side at the funeral, as you watched the commanding officer hand your mother the flag your brother had died for. After the funeral, life continued to move on around you as did everyone else. You always found it funny how quickly you were supposed to recover from loss, apparently a week was long enough to get over it. At least according to the university and your employers who had started calling with empty condolences that quickly led to the real reason they were calling. Always wanting to know when you’d be coming back. After your brother's passing, Santiago took over his role of big brother to you. He read over your med school applications, scared off potential boyfriends and got all the embarrassing video footage of you at your graduations. He was a permanent fixture in your life, one you hoped you’d never lose. Even now as he continued to blow up your phone in an attempt to sway you from driving up alone, you were thankful for him. Over the past 5 days he sent you lengthy lectures in the form of voice messages and a slew of articles detailing the statistics of winter related accidents. His name pops up on your screen as does a picture you’d taken one night after he'd passed out drunk and you’d stuffed cheetos up his nostrils, an act he has yet to forgive you for. You contemplate ignoring the call, but knowing you were about to go radio silent for the next 8 hours you decide to pick it up.

"Hey Santi what’s up?" you ask, as you half heartedly spread cream cheese onto a poorly toasted bagel.

"Have I ever told you how much I value your friendship?” Even over the phone you could hear the layers of charm he was currently plastering on.

"What do you want?" you say, tossing the knife into the sink.

"Hey! Who says..." he starts, but you don't let him finish.

"Santi I've known you long enough to know your ‘please I need something’ tone by heart" you laugh.

"Okay well I still value you, but ya I absolutely need a favour" Santiago admits.

"Shoot." you say taking a bite of the bagel.

"I need you to pick up a friend of mine, his flight got cancelled. He's in Chicago at the moment, can you drive him down to the wedding?"

"Ughhh are you kidding me Santi? I’m just about to leave" you say through a half chewed mouthful.

"Please! He’s a great guy, Gen wants him at the wedding, he was in basic with us, so a frequent visitor to the hospital. He's usually pretty quiet so you won’t have to spend that much time making small talk, which I know you hate." He pleaded. For anyone else a last minute change like this would have gotten a laugh, and nothing more, but this was Garcia, and you knew he’d do anything for you, so you’d do this for him.

“Fine” you begrudgingly agree “text me his number, I'm heading out in 40 minutes so he'll have to wait at the airport for a bit" you say, finishing your breakfast.

"You’re a godsend! Seriously, what would I do without you?" He chuckles.

"Nothing good i'm sure, besides I figure I probably owe you like, 1000 favours after you

know....'' the phone goes quiet. Five years later and it still stung like it was yesterday, for you both. He was your family, but he was Santiago’s best friend, you knew the loss was equally as devastating for him. You also knew he'd been having a particularly hard time recently, after what he termed a mission gone wrong a few years back. Every time you'd ask about it he’d shut you down harshly refusing to share any details with you.

"You don’t owe me anything. We're family. Thank you for driving him. I owe you a drink at the wedding!" He responds, back to his chipper self. If it wasn’t for the silence he may just have convinced you that he really was doing fine. You toss the phone on the counter and rub your temples mentally rearranging your entire itinerary for the day. You'd already rifled through the gym bag that was constraining way more clothes than you’d need for the week. Everything you needed was there from bathing suits to your wedding outfit to the special lingerie you’d packed in case you ran into an old flame. If by in case you meant, for when you ran into him. You don’t know how but he’d gotten invited to the wedding reception. Stella hated the guy, so it must have been through Genevieve who likely would have felt bad excluding him, even if he was only a friend of a friend.

You’d met Jonathan in your undergrad and you had been together throughout various points in your life, though never in any official sense. He’d made that evidently clear to you at any opportunity he got. He kept you on a short leash, a retainer if you will. Only coming to you between relationships with women that he deemed worthy enough to be his girlfriends. You knew it was toxic, and your friends constant reminders of how unhealthy it was didn’t fall on deaf ears. The way he would use you and lose you always ended with you being an unstable and emotional wreck, only solidifying his claims of you being crazy. You hated it, the way he made you feel so small, but he held this strange power over you. A power not even you could explain. His redeeming qualities could only be found in the bedroom, he was the best you’d ever had, so you forgave his shitty personality. Always gravitating back towards him, restarting the cycle. You knew what it meant to do the same activity over and over expecting different results, but this was different. At least that's what you told yourself, as you’d traced your hands over the lingeries lace that morning, knowing it was bought for a man who would never appreciate it.

Brushing all thought of him aside for the time being you grab the duffle off the floor and sling it over your shoulder. Walking out into the cold February air you watch as your breath transforms into a small cloud in front. Your chest hurts and nose hairs freeze as you inhale, tossing your bag into the back seat before leaning into the car and starting it up. The engine sputters for a moment before breaking out into a loud rumble, maybe it was a good thing someone else would be in the car with you after all. You jog back inside to your townhouse and grab the cooler where you’d stored the snacks and sandwiches you’d prepared for the road, now realizing it likely wouldn’t be enough to feed two people. Tossing on your winter jacket you lock the door behind you and slide your sunglasses down over your eyes shielding them from the afternoon sun as you make your way into your car.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You pull up to the departure gate still cursing at the idiot who had almost smashed into you while they were going the wrong way down a one way street. You hated driving in the city and you couldn’t wait to get out on the open road, even if it was going to be with a total stranger. You find yourself second guessing your decision to drive down state with someone you’d never met. In all reality, even if Santi was vouching for him, he could be a serial killer, plenty of people had nice things to say about Ted Bundy before he got caught.

You shake off the nervous feeling taking over your body, deciding to put your faith in your friends judgment, at least for now. Worse comes to worse you had a pocket knife stowed within reach. As long as he didn’t complain about any playlists or podcasts and understood your need for complete silence from time to time, you’d get on just fine. Besides it was only a 13 hour drive, and you could put up with anything for 13 hours.

You open up your phone and pull up the conversation you and Santiago had been having, scrolling up until you see the contact he’d sent you which read “ Catfish”. You click on it hoping to get the guys real name as a result but no luck, you should have asked Garcia for more information about this “Catfish” guy. You click on the number opting to call, not wanting to waste time wondering if he’d gotten the text you’d sent. The phone rings a few times before you hear someone pick up.

"Catfish?" you say, less confident in yourself than you had been dialing.

"In the flesh, who's this?" the deep voice responds.

"Your ride, Santiago’s friend" you offer, hoping that this wasn't some elaborate prank.

"Oh shit ya, Pope told me you’d be later than you said. I'm still downstairs" he says.

"Of course he did the little shit" you mutter, causing Catfish to laugh "Im outside now, departures second floor"

“I'll be out in a second" he says, hanging up the phone before you can say anything else.

You plug your phone back into the aux setting it back to the playlist you’d made last night during another bout of insomnia. You're checking your email to see if anything came up from the hospital when a tap at the window causes you to jump. As you look over you see the man who must be “Catfish” gently tapping on the glass. You unlock the door, popping the trunk as you slide out the driver's seat.

“You can put your bags back here. Fuck!" you exclaim when you trunk won’t open, likely having frozen shut again.

"Here" he says dropping his bag on the salted pavement and heaving up on the trunk freeing it from its icy constraints with a relative ease causing him to smile down at you.

"I loosened it" you say defensively, as he tosses his bag in the back still grinning when he

slams the trunk shut.

"Fransico Morales, though most people just call me Frankie" he says as you sit back down in the driver seat rubbing your hands together to warm them and applying some chapstick.

"Y/N, nice to meet you Frankie, seat warmers are here, use as your leisure. There are snacks in the back, but no touching the phone.” you rattle off.

“Aye aye captain” he responds, saluting you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Santiago was right, Frankie was quiet. He offered you little in conversation or any noise at all really. You’d only heard him laugh maybe twice, once while listening to a podcast episode and then again when Britney Spears made her appearance on your soundtrack. "What? She’s America's sweetheart" you say trying to sound offended, but smiling when you notice his lopsided grin. You’d attempted to open up a dialogue with him a few times, but his one worded responses told you all you needed to know, so you stopped forcing it. It wasn’t a hostile environment, it was more of a comfortable silence one that you usually only found in people you had known for years. The silence gave you an opportunity to study the man’s features, glancing away from the road every now and then to slowly piece together his profile. You had pegged him as attractive the second his face had appeared in your passenger window, but it wasn't until now that the details that made him so could be seen; relatively tall, tanned skin, soft curls, deep brown eyes. Glancing over again you notice a concerned look spread across his face.

"What?" you ask, nervous that you’d creeped him out with your excessive, and not so subtle staring.

"Storms coming our way" he says, nodding up at the darkening sky.

"We’re not supposed to get snow for another week, I checked” you reassure.

"Things change" he says

" Sky’s clear, so we don’t stop for another 3 hours" you say, definitively.

" Your funeral, well mine as well I guess" he chuckles, earning him an icy glare from you.

“It's nothing, trust me” you affirm, confident in your ability to read a weather app.

" No one likes a know-it-all" he mutters still grinning.

"Could you help me with something" you ask smiling sweetly

"Sure" he responds, eager to help.

"Pull up the map and show me when I asked for your opinion"

"Eyes on the road” he says, causing your grip to tighten around the wheel.

Well crow wasn’t your favourite food to eat, but here you were eating it. Turns out Frankie was right. A storm was heading your way and it hit hard and fast. You’d managed to make it to a hotel off the freeway just as it came into full effect. What had started as a very pleasant road trip had quickly soured when you refused to apologize for not heading his warning. This paired with the 6 hours you had already driven had left you both irritable so much so that Frankie was now refusing to be any use in respect to figuring out what your next move was going to be.

"Hi" you say to the equally tired looking receptionist. Apparently, every other person travelling through Illinois had also missed the memo about the storm and were now all stuck at the same hotel.

"Hi, so sorry for the wait" she says, forcing a smile in a way that you recognized from your retail days.

"No need to apologize! What are the odds you have any rooms available?" you ask rubbing your eyes in an attempt to keep them open.

"Let me check, we have one... suite left on the... fourth floor” she says after a few moments of typing away into the computer.

"Perfect we’ll take it." you say, tapping your credit card to the machine. You walk back over to Frankie who was sitting with the bags and hand him a room key. He exhales deeply, not looking up from his phone as he takes it from you.

"There was only one room left so we’ll have to share" you say.

"Fine," he says, standing up, grabbing his bag and heading over to the elevator not bothering to wait for you. You watch as the elevator doors open and close behind him. Sure maybe it was your fault that you were stuck in this situation, but that was pretty rude. You push your way into the room after struggling with the key for a moment. Frankie must have been eager to get to sleep, or at least eager to not converse with you as he’d wasted no time in unpacking his bag and getting ready for bed. Your eyes move from the clothes on the floor, to the suit hung up in the closet, to the closed bathroom door. You hear the toilet flush and watch the door open as you drop your bag down onto the living room floor, grabbing the toiletries out of your bag's side pocket. You were far too tired to wrestle down to your pyjamas so you opted to stay in the leggings and sports bra you’d been wearing all day. Yes it was gross, but you couldn't be bothered to change at this point. Your eyes follow Frankie as he exits the bathroom in a green cotton t-shirt and a pair of plaid boxer shorts. You continue to watch as he plugs his phone in and shifts beneath the covers. Guess you were on the floor then. The couch was far too small, and you really weren't trying to break your neck sleeping on its arm rest.

"Pass me a pillow" you huff, as you grab a glass from the nightstand, turning back around to fill it up with water from the sink.

Why?" he asks, watching you take a sip from the overfilled cup.

"So I can sleep on the floor." you state, as if it was obvious.

“No, I’ll do that, you can have the bed" he says shifting up and pushing the blankets off himself. He hadn’t realized you were so averse to sharing a bed with him, but you had just met so he guessed it was fair enough.

"I’m not the one with the bad back old man" you state, the words sounding a lot harsher than you’d intended, but you were younger and thus more likely to recover.

"Fair point, but you’re not sleeping on the floor. Santi wouldn’t allow it. We can put up a pillow barrier between us if that would make you feel more comfortable" he offers, any hostility you had felt from him earlier now turned to tenderness. In all honesty, you hadn’t realized that sharing the bed was an option.

"I need two to sleep with so no point in making a barrier" you say, begrudgingly placing the glass back down on the nightstand "Shift" you say, fanning your hand.

"No" he says looking you dead in the eye "I got here first" he’s grinning slightly, further indicating he’d gotten over his anger from earlier. You could have just walked around to the other side, but for some unknown reason you don’t. Instead, you swing your leg over him pushing yourself up onto the bed, straddling him for the briefest moment before rolling over to the other side.

"Couldn’t have just walked around?" he chuckles

"Couldn’t have just shifted over?" you parrot back, moving onto your back, closing your eyes and dozing off.

[shoezuki]

I'm going to sound like an ass but I'm so happy c!Tommy died, like I ate some leftover chicken in celebration. With Tommy dead, people will be forced to see that the smp doesn't revolves around him, that he's just a character like everyone else and that without him the story still continues.

I hope that cc!Tommy takes a breaks for a while, or at the very least if he's going to do ghostinnit pulls a Wilbur and appear only on other people's streams. It would make the people who only watch Tommy's pov have to watch different people for lore, it might get the fandom to stop treating Tommy like he's the main character, which would be great cause there are no main characters just preferred perspectives.

Also he ruined the little progress Dream had made (I was so excited for that goddamnit) and killed a cat, mean little shit. Also it might wake up people to the fact that Tommy did cause a lot of conflict, but I sadly doubt it.

The only bad I see from this is the fandom;

1. glossing over the cat and just how fucked up that was of Tommy. Trauma or the cycle of abuse are not even close to exsuces, he fucken keep hitting it then killed it just be a dick. Hold him fully accountable and don't downplay this, this was straight up evil of him, arguably he worse thing he has done as of yet.

2. The new wave of Philza stuff with people talking about how much he's going to regret not fathering Tommy dispite him not being his son

3. Even more Technoblade hate that's somehow worse because of his favor he owes to Dream. Like I just saw a post on how Philza should be killed in front of him then excused by "peer pressure" (Techno was surrounded and had no support, stalled for as long as possible, it's not like he wanted to so it) so he'd "understand" pain and loss, blocked them on sight, but still holy shit.

⸺ Rat ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ

lkahf;lkhaf yea like i Feel you im Nearly in the same boat but like. kinda?

the entire ‘getting locked in prison’ type arc or whatever was Weird to me n considering that tommy said Before he was gon tap out and back down a bit. like the disc war finale felt FINALE n like? i thought that was fine and dandy. a win for the lads then tommy can jus chill and Not have such a pivotal/main character type role. 

n i was SO GLAD for that. him buildin a hotel w sam and being hunted down by niki and jack and poking at the egg a bit n all that wasnt like. he wasnt the Pivotal point in those as much. considering he’d had a Huge impact in other ppls stories he couldnt jus Disappear. 

i did NOT understand why him being locked in prison was like. a thing. i didnt get it narratively. like idk what to have expected i thought itd jus be like. more downtime for tommy then Bam angst angst big lore oh no INTENSE. 

him dying is like. especially at dream’s hand. i feel its a double edged sword. like you say i REALLY HOPE itll mean things wont circle around him. more notice and attention can be given to the egg arc. and ESPECIALLY w how jack has been going on w today’s events like holyfuck man’s really goin OFF. tommy dying was narratively the best outcome him like jack manifold stans r losin their minds on my dash today

but ALSO. the reactions instilled within the fandom have really shown a like. exactly what i figured. like him Dying is now gonna cloud so many other characters n perceptions a those characters. we see it w phil n techno like mans wasnt even on dsmp he was on his hardcore world n had ppl all in his chat bout how his ‘son’ is dead lkshglsdhg

and this weird. like. i dont know if martyrdom is the right term for it? but like i LITERALLY hadnt seen Any mentions of tommy killing the cat. and that is Very fucked up. like IF tommy hadnt done that then to me it seemed dream had killed tommy Suddenly with no reasoning. and as fucked as it was to kill tommy, WITH the context of him killing dream’s cat like.... it makes so much more sense. like still fucked he died, but in this sense his death was direct and instant retribution for his own actions. 

and why the FUCK r ppl so nasty w techno????? mans not done shit??? he aint streamed or done Lore in a while now Especially not in reference to tommy??? like oh my GOD keep his name out ur mouth. 

like. as we seen everywhere too. they probably gon revive him in some way sometime. n considering how Talked Up that is its seems itll be regarded as the ‘main plot’ or some shit. largely overshadow other things. i want tommy to Not be revived. if he comes back like ghostbur, cool. mans chillin. but he should be dead for at Least a bit for the smoke to settle n so other ppl and plots can Work their way Out.