#he fully knows that they've barely saved for her

[danadiadea]

I am feeling like I am living in a parallel reality every time people (even some of those I mostly agree with on Snape and HP in general) talk about the hilltop scene, because in what world Snape has to ASK Albus to save Potters? Not in the one I live in for sure. If Severus didn't want them to die for whatever reason (them being Lily's family, feeling guilt for passing the prophesy, Harry being a child and James just going with him as a parent, or anything else), he had to WARN ALBUS. NOT ASK HIM.

Yes, he isn't obliged to try and save his abuser risking his life, I couldn't agree more – but the moment he came to Dumbledore, and told him Voldemort TARGETS ALL POTTERS, HE DID. That's all he needed to do, objectively. The idea that Severus had to BEG Albus for their lives contradicts basic logic, I talked about it multiple times, and even Severus is his clearly very, very messed up emotional state understands it to some extent ('I– I come with a warning – no, a request – please –’). He is focused on Lily when he explains the situation, obviously, and his perspective is very twisted because of the emotions involved (' – he thinks it means Lily Evans!’ ‘The prophecy did not refer to a woman,’ said Dumbledore.) but he PROVIDES ALBUS INFORMATION ABOUT HER FAMILY BEING TARGETED. ALL. OF. THEM. INCLUDING JAMES. ('He thinks it means her son, he is going to hunt her down – kill them all –’). His particular motivation here is open to interpretation, but what he did in that scene objectively wasn't morally flawed in any way at all. He initially makes an empathis on Lily – says Voldemort thinks the prophesy is about Lily, and Voldemort is going to hunt her down, which is obviously him being distressed becase it's simply factually incorrect (or rather formulated incorrectly – 'You know what I mean!'. and that comes from a man who values fine distinctions so much, gosh), but he warns Albus about ALL OF THEM. He only didn't ask VOLDEMORT for James and Harry, which is what Albus (manipulatively) scolds him for. And then Severus says: 'Hide them all, then,’ he croaked. ‘Keep her – them – safe. Please.’ – which goes after Albus scolds him (manipulatively) for WHAT HE ASKED OF V O L D E M O R T. That "then" is related to what Snape had asked previously of VOLDEMORT, AND NOT OF ALBUS (he doesn't actually ask anything of Albus before that phrase at all, he says he has a warning, then a request, says please, and then gives the information to Albus. that doesn't include asking only for Lily at any point of their dialogue at all), because this is what they've been talking about – and do I have to explain why didn't Severus ask Voldemort for James and especially Harry? Yes, the empathis in what he says is still on Lily. Of course it fucking is on Lily, his ex-friend, and not his abuser and his unborn child he doesn't know, and who might send Snape to Azkaban at this point if they defeat Voldemort like it's predicted. But even being barely coherent, Severus warns Albus about Voldemort targeting the Potter family. All of them are in danger and need protection. The fact that Dumbledore says something doesn't make it automatically make sence, come on now. The 'Could you not ask for mercy for the mother, in exchange for the son?’ CAN'T make logical sence with the prophesy. This scenario doesn't exist, because Snape is shaken and not thinking straight, but Voldemort KNOWS HE TARGETS HARRY, AND NOT LILY. Harry is the threat to Voldemort from his perspective. Severus can't use Harry's life as exchange for anything, this assumption is ridiculous. Severus only says 'I have – I have asked him –’ in response, which proves that Severus had asked Voldemort to spare Lily (which we know is canon and is completely logical), and that's it, especially with how outstandingly coherent Severus, who is obviously breaking down at this very moment, is. And this only shows that Snape isn't an idiot who wants Voldemort to kill him without use for anyone, doesn't it?...

I fully understand that it is something Severus didn't have to do, and most people wouldn't – but he did, and that's book canon. Let's consider it when talking about Snape's character, please, because this is characterisation important. Unless someone can explain to me why Snape had to ask Dumbledore to save the Potters instead of telling the Head of the Order they are in danger and expecting him to ensure the safety of his own soldiers, because I just can't understand what people are going for with that take, genuinely. Like if someone who thinks that Severus didn't actually ensure James and Harry don't die in any way before Albus "scolded" him wants to share their perspective I would actually love to read it (unless they hate Snape and that's the whole discussion, I mean), because maybe I just fundamentally don't get something, lmao.

There is a post (a part of the big discourse thread, so be careful) where I share my interpretation on this in a more organised (and angry) way for the context if someone needs it too.

[wonderlandsakura]

The gods won't make the same mistake twice

There's one hero Percy Jackson is similar to, someone the gods broke, and they regretted it

Someone kind, that they made ruthless

Someone loving, that they made brutal:

Odysseus

[stardust-moth]

In order to fully understand why it was so hard for Mike to express how deeply he loves El, and why his speech at the end of season 4 was one of the biggest, most important moments for his entire character, we need to look at not just who Mike is as a person, but also everything that has happened since he met her.

Every single time he opens up his heart to her, something horrible happens to her or she's taken away from him almost immediately afterwards.

1x08; he's an awkward little ball of feelings that are way too big for a boy so young. He makes a nervous attempt at confessing and asking her out on a date; when he can't find words that she'll understand, swoops in for a kiss instead. She lights up immediately and smiles. It's a brief moment of hope and pure happiness. Maybe they can have some semblance of a normal life and be normal kids after this is all over.

Minutes later, all hell breaks loose-- they're almost shot, El pushes herself too far until she can barely move, she's almost taken away by the Bad Men, the Demogorgon appears, and she uses the very last of her strength to sacrifice herself to save him and their friends.

He has to watch helplessly as she disappears.

He spends a year caught between believing she's dead and hoping she's still out there somewhere (but if she is alive then why won't she talk to him anymore...?). Kept silent under threat by the lab, he can't confide in anyone or even acknowledge her existence, not with anyone except those involved... but everyone else is keen on moving on and pretending it never happened. He can find some solidarity in Will, at least, who is in a similar kind of emotional turmoil... but it's not the same and it's not enough.

2x9; he is finally reunited with El, and she runs into his arms like she missed him too. She tells him that all those nights he called out to her, she heard him; she was there reciprocating his feelings the whole time.

In a burst of emotions that he's been forced to suppress for an entire year, he lashes out at the reason they've been kept apart (Hopper), screaming and sobbing. It's a massive catharsis for him, and for once an adult is understanding enough to hold him and not punish him for it.

Minutes later, she is going to go headfirst into a pit of monsters, the place where Mike had just firsthand witnessed dozens of people (if not more) get ripped to shreds only hours earlier, and she is going to attempt to close the Gate-- a feat that he knows may take every ounce of her power, just like last time. He cries. He can't lose her again. She promises he won't, and before she can seal that promise with a kiss, they're pulled apart again.

He has to watch helplessly as she drives away.

3x1; all seems to be okay now. He and El are happily together, and he feels comfortable enough to be playful, romantic, and intimate with her. It's the most emotionally open we've ever seen Mike thus far.

For reasons he can't understand (bc there's no way Hopper explained himself beyond "I'm in charge so do as I say or else"), Hopper is angry about it and threatens to never allow him to see her again: the one thing he fears most.

He panics big time and fucks it up in the process by lying to her. During a frantic attempt to apologize while also abiding by Hopper's rules, he runs into her at the mall. He panics again-- if anyone finds her here, and knows that he was here too, it's all over, and Hopper surely won't hear reason. El dumps him cold on the spot, spurred on by Max and her rebellious attitude (and without any context of course). He isn't given much opportunity to respond. He knows he's in the wrong for lying to her, so what could he even say...?

He has to watch helplessly as she drives away.

It's a hard blow, and he retreats back into himself, unable to get any joy out of playing D&D (which he clearly hasn't lost interest in), back to the deadpan sarcasm and accidentally snapping a little too harshly at anyone whom he feels would take El's place.

3x6; no one seems to understand the danger El is putting herself in. Everyone is berating him for worrying about her safety. He's seen firsthand what these monsters do to people, he's seen firsthand how El pushes her abilities too far. No one is listening.

The words "I love her and I can't lose her again" burst out in his desperation, perhaps before he's even had a chance to realize how deep those feelings run, despite whatever protective walls he's tried to build around his heart to keep it from getting broken again.

Soon after, all hell breaks loose. El is nearly killed several times over, her leg is ripped open, she pushes herself so hard that she breaks herself and loses her powers completely. Her father is taken from her. She's shattered by all of this, and there's absolutely nothing he could do or say to make it better.

She tells him that when he admitted he loves her, she heard him, and indeed she loves him, too... But now she's leaving.

He has to watch helplessly as she drives away.

4x1; they've been apart for a few months, and write letters back and forth to each other. El's letters paint a picture of an ideal new life: she and the Byers family are doing well; she's starting school and it's going well; she's made new friends, she likes her new home, everything is going well. She seems to be thriving. She sounds happy, maybe even happier than she had been living in Hawkins. Maybe Max was right, maybe she's better off being her own person without him, and maybe the respectful thing to do is step back... It's a small insecurity that creeps up subconsciously. In his replies he holds back, afraid of clinging too hard.

Though there's little logic in it, he's afraid that if he tells her he loves her again, another disaster might strike and this lovely happy life she's finally found might get taken from her. After all, that's what always seems to happen when he does.

4x2; after months of waiting, they can finally see each other again. He wears her favorite colors, picks a handful of flowers for her, and falls happily back into step with how they used to be. Soon that same day, however, reality becomes clear and the facade crumbles. People he was told were her friends show up to torment and publicly humiliate her. She had been lying. She isn't happy here, she hasn't healed, she is right at the edge of a breaking point that he doesn't see coming at all. He can't believe she would lie to him, she's not the kind of person to lie... especially not about something like bullying, something that she was always so understanding about with him.

On that logicless subconscious level, he wonders if it's all his fault-- he should have known somehow, he should have been there for her. She protected him from his bullies, he should have protected her from hers. He tries to come to her rescue. She runs away from him.

He's helpless to save her, again.

4x3; after a night to process everything that happened-- and deciding that the betrayal he feels from her lying to him is nothing compared to the turmoil she must be going through right now-- Mike approaches her in the gentlest way possible, wanting to listen and trying to understand. El, however, isn't receptive at all to his attempts at reassurance. She is at an all-time low, she's given up. She believes she is unlovable, irredeemable, a monster, just a thing that doesn't even have those superhuman abilities to compensate anymore. Mike can't believe what he's hearing-- doesn't she know that she's always been so much more than her powers? She's always been so much more than what she lacks in quote-unquote "normalcy"... None of those things matter, they have absolutely no bearing on whether she's worthy of being loved, because he loves her, completely regardless of any of these things. He always has...

El starts flinging his restrained words back at him, the products of his insecurity and trauma-induced fear. That fear takes hold yet again, and he stumbles, afraid of saying too much or not enough, because surely both could result in pushing her away-- she's retreating, hearing none of it; nothing he tries to say consoles her.

Moments later, local police come knocking. She's taken away in cuffs, and she's so broken inside that she won't even look at him when he chases the police car down the street and promises he'll get her out somehow...

Once again, he has to watch helplessly as she drives away.

4x8/4x9; after days of driving through the heat and dryness of southwest desert, having narrowly escaped being shot at with military-grade assault rifles, witnessing the death of and burying a man whose last words were that El is in danger... After watching dozens of people get mowed down by a sniper in a helicopter, and watching that same helicopter be smashed into the ground in a ball of flames...

There she is. Just as powerful and beautiful and alive as she's ever been. When he runs to her and embraces her, she looks at him like she can't believe he's real. She's beaming a smile right from her soul and it's like all the insecurity and self-doubt that have plagued them both just vanish from existence now that they're in each other's arms again.

Like always, however, the universe comes crashing down soon after. Max is marked for a gruesome death and all of Hawkins is in danger. They're miles away and helpless, and the only possible way for El to save everyone is if she goes in alone. She's stronger than ever, but so is her foe. Once again, she descends to face all the demons of hell on her own, and Mike can't do anything.

She's losing. She's choking. She's dying. He's helpless.

He must be cursed. He must be. Being with her, loving her, allowing himself to admit he loves her, it always brings only pain and suffering and loss. His heart is so full that it's aching, it's bursting out of his chest, and he can't contain it any longer.

She's going to die and it's going to be all his fault, because he fell in love, and it's cursed her.

Just before it all crumbles into utter despair, the earnest support from his oldest and dearest friend-- one who's always shared and understood his feelings of helplessness-- sparks a light of hope in him: "You're the Heart." You're not helpless. You can save her.

The words that come spilling out of Mike's mouth are truer than any he's ever dared to speak before, and it's the most terrified he's ever been, but he has enough courage for this moment. Despite all of the fears that have been building, stifling, choking him to death for years-- fears that the light of his life will inevitably disappear again, and there's nothing he can do to stop it-- despite it all, he pours out his heart to her.

He loves her. He's always loved her. He loves everything she ever was, is, and could be. He can't imagine a world without her in it. She saved him, in every way a person can be saved. And he needs her to live. He believes in her.

And it works. It's music to her ears.

[internetgiraffekid1673]

Hey can we talk about how flipping BRILLIANT gabenath is? Because I don't see enough people appreciating how wild their dynamic is.

Imagine you are Gabriel Agreste. You are fresh out of college and have married the girl of your dreams. She's the most beautiful, most fun, craziest individual you have ever met and you two match each other's freak dangerously well. She let's you infodump about all your autistic hyperfixations and wants to lead an adventurous charge to help you research. She fills your world with energy and poetry and reason for breathing. And for some reason, she thinks your loser behind is the best thing since sliced bread.

Then, on your expedition to adventure, you two meet another woman. And she's absolutely amazing in all the opposite ways to Emilie and completes your trio perfectly. She's aloof and cool-headed and discreet, but has all the dangerous amounts of loyalty the two of you have. She and your incredible wife hit it off immediately and become best friends and you could sit and listen to them talk for hours at a time (and are maybe having some uncomfortable fantasies about them pinning each other against the wall).

The three of you grow ever closer through your adventures and you eventually start a family, fully prepared to spend the rest of eternity with these two. And then your wife goes comatose. The light of your life has been stripped from this world and it's your fault, all your fault. The child you once loved so much you can barely stand to look at, and you know Nathalie blames you too. Your kid would blame you if he knew. You have to save Emilie. You have to. There's this tiny glimmer of hope and you are going to cling to it because you would not be able to live with yourself if she's actually dead. You can hardly live with yourself as it is, but you have a responsibility to bring her back. For Nathalie and for your son if for nobody else.

Nathalie helps you of course. Emilie was the light of her life too. She pulls you off the edge when you start to lose yourself. Reminds you what it's all for. You take comfort in each other. You grieve together. It brings you closer than you ever thought you could be with another person. You've stared at each other's souls and been inside each other's minds. She knows you better than you know yourself.

And sure, maybe in the heat of the moment, you've thought about taking things further, but you couldn't. You still can't. It would be a disservice to Emilie's memory to go around with her other soulmate in her absence. It would be a disservice to Nathalie who surely wants nothing to do with you after it's your obsession that got Emilie where she is. She only tolerates you because she knows you're just as desperate to revive Emilie as her, and you'll be gone soon. Besides, your wife is coming back. It would be wrong, it would be like cheating. Even if you can guess she would have approved. You can't.

Imagine you are Nathalie Sancouer. Imagine you are young and full of big dreams and are suddenly hired by a pair of the most beautiful crazy angelic ridiculous perfect human people you have ever met. Imagine they think you are all that and a bag of chips. You would die for either of them without thinking twice. Of course you would. They're geniuses and romantics and are living the world's most epic romance and they've decided you get to be a part of it. You get to watch. From the sidelines. It's heaven. It's torture.

They've just about teased you to the point of insanity and you think you can't spend one more day without taking drastic action. And then Emilie goes comatose. And it's your fault. Maybe a bit of Gabriel's fault, but he can hardly be blamed. He's the artistic genius without an ounce of common sense. You're the businesswoman. You were supposed to be the one with a level head who made them think through the risks before this happened.

You have to save her. Your only reason for living was them. She has a career and a son and a husband and so much to add to this world. Gabriel agrees and, brilliant as he is, has already made a plan.

You'll help. Of course you will, how could you not. Screw danger, screw him not wanting to involve you, screw propriety and boundaries. You will save Emilie together. And you will make sure Gabriel does not lose himself too, because they are perfect. They're perfect for this world and for each other. They have to be together til the end of time. You're just their lowly assistant. Expendable.

You fall even more in love with Gabriel as time goes by. How could you not? You were already a goner for both of them, and now you see him in his fits of passion and despair and struggle. And it is intoxicating. You want more, you can't help yourself. Who wouldn't? But you understand that he's already doing you such a kindness, going above and beyond to include you in all this.

He's a promised man. He's already made an oath to his wife and you respect that bond more than your own sanity because you understand it completely. If one of them had asked, you'd have promised yourself away in an instant. But of course they'd never ask you, not when they have each other. You can't. You have to bring Emilie back. For her and for him. And maybe a little for you because you can't stand to live like this. Without them everything is pointless. With them (but not really with them) there's too much point, the smallest dumbest things suddenly become the most meaningful experience in the world and you can't stand it. You can't have them, but you can't leave them either. Just because Emilie is gone makes no difference.

Imagine being so close yet so far. Imagine being a matched set---Hawkmoth and Mayura, do not separate---and yet never as close as either of you wishes. Imagine blaming yourself for the loss of your shared love and thinking the other is too perfect, too faultless, to good for this world to possibly want you after all that. Imagine being gabenath

[rogueddie]

Thinkin Bout You T | 1,061 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy

Even though he can admit that it's a selfish desire, Eddie still wants to use Steve's pool. He'd thought that, after finally defeating Vecna and saving Max, they could use it as an excuse to have some sort of party.

He's always wanted to go to one of Steves infamous, exclusive pool parties.

"No," Steve immediately snapped, when Eddie brought it up. It was the first time Eddie had ever really heard him angry. "No one goes in the pool. No one- just, stay away from it. It's off limits. That's it."

He'd been confused, but accepted his answer. It didn't matter what he wanted, it clearly made Steve uncomfortable. It wasn't his place to challenge those boundaries.

... but it did make him curious.

At first, he tried to figure it out on his own. Or, more accurately, tried to gauge how Steve fully and truly felt about the pool.

Steve avoided the thing like it would bite him if he looked at it too long. He always steered conversations away from it, or swimming in general, too.

"I'm worried," Eddie admitted, when he finally gave in and turned to Robin. "He can't keep avoiding pools forever."

"It's not pools," Robin says, reluctantly. "It's his pool, specifically. You'll have to ask him, but... you'd get it. If you knew why."

But the only answer he got from Steve was vague, something about Nancy and bad memories.

"I don't want to know what happened," Eddie starts, worming past Nancy as soon as she opens the door. "I only need to know if redecorating the pool might help. Like, if it's bad memories tied to it then spicing it up so it looks different... that'll help, right?"

Nancy stares at him for a moment, needing a moment to catch up.

"We are talking about Steve?" She finally asks.

"Yeah!"

"Right... um... redecorating..." She looks off to the side, frowning in thought. "It might help. He probably won't want to get in himself, no matter what, but... yeah, changing it up might make him more comfortable with it in general."

"Great! I don't know how to redecorate a pool."

Nancy rolls her eyes.

But she jumps into action. She calls Robin, Jonathan and Argyle, gathering them together so they can brainstorm ideas.

It's Jonathan who suggests they try and make it more kid friendly. Argyle is the one who collects pool decals, agreeing on placing them too. Robin insists on being the one to chose the colors with Nancy's help.

Eddie gets stuck with collecting floats and toys, making a mental list of what they could get.

With their hush money, they're able to put aside a decent amount of money for the budget. They're definitely going to be able to completely change that pool.

Getting the kids to agree to distract Steve for the entire day is too easy. They don't even ask why.

Steve calls Robins less than half an hour after they call the kids, pleading and whining about the kids plan. He tries to get her to come up with some excuse to get him out of it.

"Sorry," Robin says, wincing. "Need to stay home with mom. Sounds serious."

It takes another half an hour until Lucas is able to radio them, giving them the all clear.

Sneaking round to Steve's pool feels strange. Mostly thanks to how casual it is, how calm the others look despite the fact that they're technically breaking in.

"We're not breaking in," Nancy points out. "We have keys. He said we can come over whenever we want. We're welcome."

"Hey," Jonathan says, snapping his fingers to get their attention. "Come on, we have a lot to do."

And it is a lot.

Working together, they're able to get through the worst of it pretty fast. It's impossible to rush it all though, having to wait for paint to dry or glue to stick.

They've barely sat down, finally finishing everything, when Steve gets back with the kids.

"Woah, this is amazing!" Dustin says, grinning wide, the first to burst out the back doors.

"Holy shit," Mike says, next out. "How did you do all this in that time?"

"What are you guys yelling about?" Steve asks, voice distant.

The kids scramble out of the way, watching the door for Steve, excited.

"Where have you- oh."

He freezes in the doorway, eyes darting around the garden.

"Surprise!" Robin yells, jumping over to him. "You like it?"

"How did you..."

"It was easy," Nancy says, reassuring.

"Eddie noticed that you hate the pool," Robin adds. "He suggested we redecorate. Change it up. Make it something new."

Steve looks between them all, face blank.

"Steve?" Eddie says, shifting nervously.

"Thank you," Steve says. "It's... thank you."

"Does this mean we can use your pool now?" Mike asks.

Steve laughs, though it sounds slightly choked. "Yeah," he says, shaking his head. "Sure, whatever, let's have a pool party."

The kids cheer, rushing off to get changed. The others follow after them slower, leaving Steve and Eddie alone.

"This was your idea?" Steve asks.

"Kinda? We all worked together to actually... do it. I only suggested we do something. Nancy's the brains behind it all, really. And Argyle."

"Still, you thought to do all... this."

"I guess."

"Thank you, Ed."

"Oh, nah, don't. It was motivated entirely by, like... greed."

Steve snorts, disbelieving.

"It was! You never let us use the pool."

"You wouldn't need to redecorate this much to do that."

"That... yeah, I would," Eddie winces at how his voice cracks. "You're overprotective."

"Eds," Steve grabs his hand, finally drawing his attention to how they've drifted to each other. "Just accept the thank you, alright?"

Eddie glances at their hands, half expecting Steve to pull away. But, despite the flush in his cheeks, he keeps a tight hold.

"Alright," Eddie finally says. "You're welcome?"

"Great," Steve tugs at his hand, keeping ahold of him as he drags them to the house. "I have spare swim shorts that you can borrow."

"You sure they won't be too big?"

Steve glances back, just in time to catch Eddie's eyes drifting down. He laughs bumping his shoulder into Eddie's.

"Perv."

"You love it," Eddie teases, expecting Steve to take it ask a joke.

But he smiles, soft and genuine, squeezing Eddie's hand as he says, "I really do."

[secondarysefikura]

can you write something about what would happen if jenova (which lets just say it's conscious and genuinely cares for sephiroth) spends most of the game saving energy to return to their original form which I imagine is something akin to an eldritch monster (since they are a literal space alien that lives by eating PLANETS) and instead of the final battle against safer sephiroth, the AVALACHE group just goes to sleep one day and when they wake up cloud is nowhere to be seen and a gigantic tentacle monster and sephiroth are inhalating the planet.

Meanwhile Cloud wakes up in one of jenova's tentacles just to be greeted by the Alien talking about how they are about to be done whit this planet and not to worry because "Cloud is their son's chosen mate", Cloud obviously tries to scape, to no avail because the G cells inside his body are making movement impossible, so he just sits there and is unable to do anything but listen to jenova while the the two destroy the world.(sephiroth and jenova win)

Jenova is just happy to be done with this god forsaken planet, but hey, at least they've got a son and his mate now, jenova just has to teach sephiroth the correct ways of mating for thir species.

This one is a doozy, haha

“Wake up little one, it would be a shame for you to miss your first planetary destruction.” 

Half awake and suffering from a pounding headache, Cloud barely registers the words spoken into his mind. Instead, he somewhat registers the odd sense of security he is feeling—almost as if he is being held securely in someone’s arms—and a strange inner peace he hasn’t felt for years. 

“Open your eyes little one, you do not want to miss this.” 

Once again coaxed by the voice in his mind, Cloud opens his eyes with a few sleepy blinks. Instantly, the feeling of security and peace are shattered by the sights around him. Rather than being in the bed he fell asleep the previous day, (or whenever he fell asleep. Who is to say it’s been only a day since he went to sleep?) he’s being held several thousand feet off the ground by a large tentacle thing. Everything is…

“Finally being destroyed.” The voice in his mind finishes, “It has taken a long while, but your little planet is finally fulfilling its purpose.” 

No, this is absolutely not the purpose of his planet. This planet was not designed to be destroyed and eaten by an alien and a wannabe god. Struggling to move, Cloud can just barely turn his head to look behind him at the massive creature behind him. Instinctively, he knows that this is Jenova’s true form. Once he heard someone talk about the concept of eldritch horror—the sort of thing that your mind cannot even begin to comprehend just due to the sheer size of it—and he realizes he never fully appreciated the concept until now.

Jenova is more than eldritch. Jenova is…hurting him to look at. With great struggle, Cloud manages to turn his head back towards the planet’s destruction. In the distance, he catches sight of what he thinks is—once was—Sephiroth. Even from afar, he can tell Sephiroth’s new form is just as massive as Jenova’s is. 

Seeing Sephiroth like this, Cloud can almost understand why Sephiroth thought Jenova to be his mother. Although he has wings where the alien has tentacles, the sheer size of both of them is enough to make them related. 

Just then, Sephiroth turns to them and waves almost shyly. Strands of the lifestream drip from his mouth like blood. 

“Ah, he’s a bit of a messy eater.” Jenova hums happily, still in Cloud’s head, “A violent one too. He has wonderful potential.” 

Cloud wants to throw up, or scream, or both, but he can’t seem to make his body do what he wants. Even as a large chunk of the planet collapses in on itself with a sound that should have Cloud cowering, he remains still and silent in Jenova’s grasp. 

Jenova pats his head with the top of one of her tentacles almost as if she is comforting him.

“You have nothing to fear, little one. You are my son’s chosen mate. In my grasp you will be more than safe from the destruction of what you once needed to live.”

“I-I-” 

“Oh, I see, you wish to be with him.” 

No, he absolutely does not wish to be with Sephiroth, but he can’t make himself protest. Instead he remains silent as Jenova makes her way over to Sephiroth in order to pass him off. 

Reaching Sephiroth, Cloud finds himself unceremoniously dropped in the mans(?) hands. Then Sephiroth lifts him so he’s directly in front of his giant face, all the while smiling like a predator who was never taught not to play with their food. 

“Cloud, isn’t this wonderful? I have fulfilled my birthright, and we can now be together forever.”

Using all his willpower, Cloud forces himself to speak. 

“Why would I want that?” 

Sephiroth’s grin falls at the same time Jenova laughs. 

“Pay him no mind my child, he’s merely restless. Once you properly mate him he will settle and be plenty happy.” 

Cloud doesn’t need a mirror to know he’s gone white as a sheet. 

[bloodfin]

can you feel me longing for you, forever

Air Ghoul/Earth Ghoul, background Dewdrop/Alpha

Rated: M for mature, 18+ only recommended

Word Count: 3.900k

Summary: Air and Earth petitioned the clergy for a kit and have been denied forty seven times. This time, their wish is granted. Features some abbey life, and a lot of tears.

Warnings: kit adoption; mean guy Alpha; Dewdrop is the inter-era bridge; pack feels; angsty/sad with a happy ending; fade to black ending

Author’s Note: from @anotherbananasong storyline about Earth and Air wanting to adopt a kit and being denied by the ministry. Everything changes when the fire nation attacks when Copia becomes Frater

Read on Ao3

"You need to be fully committed to the Project. No distractions."

"You just retired, you should take some time to enjoy it."

"Things are too busy at the moment."

"Everything just calmed down, we can't summon a ghoul right now. Imagine the chaos."

"The ministry's resources are stretched too thin."

"A child, in the catacombs? Absolutely not."

"We don't have space right now, we have to summon new ghouls for the Project."

"We just summoned four new ghouls."

"No."

"No."

"No."

"No."

Air's empty arms ache. The repeated denials feel like a lost dream, a lost future. Grief like that that runs deep. He had clung tightly to the hope that someday Sister would change her mind, but now that she's gone, he can't help but feel like the last shreds of that hope died with her.

Earth is wrapped around him, a low, protective growl rumbling deep in his chest. He holds Air tightly, fighting back his own tears. They'll find a way.

He keeps Air pressed to his chest, reminiscing about when they first mated. When they first decided they wanted a kit. The first time they asked, and the first time they were told no.

Earth's growl grows louder as he thinks of the excuses and yes he knows it's more difficult to summon a kit than an adult. He knows that raising a kit won't be easy. But he wants it, oh does he want it, with Air by his side.

"It will be okay, sweet skybird."

He presses a kiss to Air's forehead, rubs their noses together. Air chokes on a hiccup, let's himself be crushed against Earth. He feels bad, that Earth seems to always be comforting him when he knows he hurts just as deeply. But for now, Air lets himself be held, and lets his emotions run free.

In the room next door, Dew is reclined on Alpha's bed, heart breaking at the sound of Air's muffled sobs mixed with Earth's growling.

"D'ya think Copia knows? That they've been asking to summon a kit?"

Alpha shrugs.

Dew hums, picking at the hem of his shirt.

"Do you... want kits some day?"

"With you?"

It came out colder than intended, and Dew barely has time to mask the hurt that flickers on his face.

"Rainy and I were talking the other day and -"

"Oh, you and Rainy were talking about kits, were you?" 

This time, he meant to sound cruel. 

Dew scoffs and jumps out of the bed, crossing Alpha's room in six steps this time. He has the mind to pause and do up his fly, throwing a face over his shoulder that makes Alpha thankful looks can't kill. 

"Why were you and Rain even -"

"Save it," Dew bites back.

"Where are you going Dew, the whole abbey is asleep already. We'll talk about this is in the morning."

Dew throws open the door and stomps into the hall.

"Maybe try getting your shit together instead."

He doesn't look back when the door slams behind him, pretends not to hear Alpha's frustrated roar. Just marches towards the library, ignoring the unwelcome tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

Dew's footsteps get lighter the further he travels from the catacombs, pausing every now and then to take in the moonlight streaming in through the stained glass windows. Rests at the chapel for a quick prayer for Earth and Air, and to check on Sister's memorial flame.

It's strange, her absence. They had been through a lot together and he, in some ways, misses her. Maybe things could change now that Copia, Frater, runs the clergy.

He doesn't dwell on it too long, opts to leave the chapel as quick as he entered and veers right down a long hallway. The paintings here are poorly lit, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He’s never liked this corridor with all its knowing eyes.

He reaches the library and pushes inside, surprised to see a table still occupied. Less surprised when he approaches and realizes it's Copia, hunched over an old manuscript, making notes in a small leatherbound journal.

Dew rubs at his eyes as he approaches, plops himself down in the seat across from him, careful to not disturb his text.

"Hey Papa."

"My ghoul," Copia smiles gently, placing a worn bookmark into the tome before closing it and moving it to the side. "Are you well? It's very late."

Dew isn't quite sure how to answer that, quietly taps his fingers on the table with a shrug instead.

"You spend much time in the catacombs yes? With the Ancient Ones?"

Dew tries not to grimace, just nods yes with a tight lipped smile.

"How is Air doing? He seemed distraught when my mother passed, and I regretfully haven't been able to visit yet."

Dew rolls a few words around on his tongue, trying to find the best way to explain that particular situation.

"He was of course upset to hear that she passed, but, he and Earth had been waiting to hear back about their um... request."

Copia tilts his head.

"Request?"

"Yes, it was denied by the clergy. Again."

"You'll have to forgive me, my ghoul, but what was the request?"

"They would like to adopt a kit."

"Oh!" Copia smiles broadly. "They would make such wonderful parents, eh? Of course, of course. I'll mention it at tomorrow's meeting."

Dew blinks at Copia, jaw dropping towards the table.

"Papa, Frater, they denied their request forty-seven times."

It's Copia's turn to stare now, aghast, squeaking a bit like a mouse.

"F-f-forty seven denials? Why?"

Dew shrugs, picks at the skin around his claws.

"There were always excuses, but they don't like them. Even Secondo tried."

Copia sets his mouth in a tight line.

"Well that's just silly. Let's get them a kit."

"Seriously?"

"Absolutely. The cruelty ends with me. My mother may have been wise about some things, but others. Well. Not so much."

Dew is thankful for the late hour when he scrambles across the table to pull Copia into an extremely undignified hug, pushing his chair back so quickly it crashes to the floor.

"Thank you," he breathes into Copia's neck, letting his tears fall freely. He may not have been around for all forty-seven denials, but he's seen enough of them.

Copia wraps his arms around Dew, apologizing for all the things he didn't know about, but can work towards changing.

When Dew pulls away, he tilts his chin up to meet Copia's eyes.

"If the clergy tries to say no again because 'that's what Sister always said', I'll burn the room down with all of them in it."

Copia can't help but laugh, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"No, you wouldn't." He pauses, thinking for a second. "Alpha would though."

Dew can't help but agree, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands.

"You're right. He would."

⸸⸸⸸⸸⸸

A gentle knock on the door forces Earth to peel his sticky eyes open, crusting from the tears he shared with Air.

"It's open," he grumbles, pulling Air tight to his chest and burying his face in the crook of his neck.

"Good morning!"

Dewdrop looks a little too chipper, considering they both heard him stomp out of the catacombs and slam every door in his way last night.

Air raises a sleepy brow, silently asking him why in the nine circles they are being disturbed at the unholy hour of ten AM.

"Papa, uh, Frater, would like you to meet him in your common room in twenty minutes."

He's still smiling, and Earth can't help but be a little suspicious.

Dew looks at his feet then, digging his toe into the ground.

"Could you um... could you let Alpha know? I'll go tell River. And Omega, if he's there and not. With... You know."

"Mmn."

He takes that as a verbal affirmative and quickly backs out of their room, alerting the rest of the ancients to the meeting before taking a seat near their hearth. He couldn't bear to miss Copia sharing the good news.

Dew is still smiling when the ghouls begin to file into the room, plopping themselves onto various sofas and chairs. He only scowls when Alpha looks his way, covertly flipping him off while Copia strides in. 

"Good morning my lovelies," he smiles, gently clapping his hands together. He's met with a chorus of half awake greetings, missing the rude face Alpha throws at Dew while his back is turned.

"I've just come from a clergy meeting, and I would like to gather your input on what you all would like for your new den. The ceilings can't be raised here, and I want you all as comfortable as possible, so we are building a new space for you upstairs. You can still come down here if you like. I also need to know what we need for the nursery -"

Earth sits up then, launching himself off of Air's shoulder.

"Nursery?"

His eyes are wide, hand crushing Air's as he waits for Copia to explain. His looks at Dew briefly, catching his smile and tear filled eyes.

"Yes," Copia beams at him. "Your request has been approved. We're going to help you get a kit."

Air slides from the couch and to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he sobs. Earth quickly joins him, holding him tight to his chest.

"You're serious?" he chokes out, a low growl building in the back of his throat.

"If it's what you want, it's okie dokie with me."

"More than anything," Air confirms, and rests his head on Earth's. "We're going to be dads my Earth. It's finally happening."

Dew slips out before he can be pulled into the quickly growing pile, wanting the ancients to enjoy this moment of great joy.

⸸⸸⸸⸸⸸

"We need to plan a baby shower!" Cumulus beams, bouncing on her toes after Dew shared the good news.

"Yes, but the ancients need time to acclimate. Sister kept them locked away for far too long, I don't want to overwhelm them."

Cumulus nods, bouncy white curls falling in her face.

"Of course! We can make cake, does that ever get sent to the catacombs? And Cici and I can help paint, I'm sure Mountain and Swiss can help build. Speaking of I need to go let her know -"

Cumulus drifts off down the hall, chatting to herself about room designs and party plans, eager to welcome the ghouls back into the main halls of the abbey.

"You doing okay?"

Rain's smooth baritone makes Dew jump, turning to face him in surprise.

"Sorry, thought you heard me come in."

"Yeah, I'm so excited for the them -"

"I know. But you were upset last night, and I want to make sure you're actually okay, not just hiding it "

Dewdrop huffs a sigh. He can't hide anything from Rain. No one can, really. Everyone's pretty convinced that whatever ocean vent he crawled out of gave him some quint-level mind reading powers.

"It's... complicated."

Rain nods and gestures towards the couch.

"C'mon. I'll even let you turn on the Hallmark channel, I think they're playing holiday movies already."

Dew grumbles while pulling some popcorn out of a nearby cabinet, trapped between being annoyed about being known and allowing himself to be comforted, a skill matched only by Air. 

⸸⸸⸸⸸⸸

"How soon can we try a summoning?"

Air is practically vibrating in his seat, Earth's hand crushed in his own.

Copia has a stack of notes and paperwork, all the necessary permits to expand the abbey and of course Earth and Air's nursery wishlist.

"I'm afraid I've never summoned a kit before, so it may take a few tries before we are successful."

"We understand."

Air and Earth share a quick glance.

"Frater, we have been begging the clergy to help us with a kit for years. Forty-seven times we were told no. We're ready, whenever you are."

Earth squeezes Air's fingers.

"You're sure, my skybird? I know what this means to you, to us, and I fear if we rush you'll be devastated."

Air turns to his partner, holds his cheek gently with his free hand.

"I will be. But then we can try again. As many times as Frater allows."

Earth's eyes brim with tears, mirroring his mate. They turn back to Copia, smiles full of cautious optimism.

"Yes," Earth agrees. "We're ready." 

⸸⸸⸸⸸⸸

The addition is built rather quickly, ghouls and humans alike eager to bring the ancients out of the catacombs. News of the kit spreads like a wildfire, and soon there are more hands hoisting beams and laying walls than anyone had expected. 

"Which room should face the sun," Copia questions, looking over the layout on his desk. 

"Alpha," Dew answers without hesitation. 

Copia briefly raises a brow before finishing the room assignments, pleased that all the ghouls can now move freely through the abbey. 

"It will take time to lift all of the doorways, but we'll get there."

"Thanks, Papa. Frater." 

"It's fine, my ghoul." Copia wears a gentle, genuine smile. "You know I don't care about the title. Just that you all see me as a friend." 

Dew relaxes again, rests his head on the soft chair. 

"As your friend, and prior Papa, I feel I must tell you that I'm a little concerned about your connection with Alpha." 

Dew's eyes fly open as he scrambles to sit straight in the chair, patting his pocket for his phone. 

"Would you... would you look at that? Oh, Mounty is um. He's, he's calling me so I have to uh, I have to -" 

Dew keeps patting himself for his phone while making his way towards the door, forgetting it on Copia's desk. 

"Dewdrop, you need to talk about this at some point." 

"Dewdrop!"

⸸⸸⸸⸸⸸

While Dew fails at making a smooth exit from Copia's office, Earth and Air are curled up in their nest, the last day they'll spend in the catacombs. 

"I'm a bit nervous to go up there," Air mumbles, fingers playing with Earth's shirt. 

"I know, skybird. But this will be better for your lungs. And even better for our kit." 

"Yes, yes. It will be. What do you think they'll be like?" 

"I think, no matter what, she'll be absolutely perfect." 

Air scrunches his eyebrows. "She? We told Frater we'd be happy to raise any kit that needed a family." 

"I know," Earth smiles, taking Air's hand in his own. "Call it a hunch." 

They share a few kisses before cuddling back into each other, trading guesses on what they think their kit will be like. Their personality, their element. If they'll choose to veil when they get older. What their family will be like, and how it will grow in love. 

So much love. 

So much love, that when the time comes for the summoning, more ghouls are gathered than have ever gathered at a summoning before. 

Dew stands between Alpha and Rain, arms wrapped around himself as Alpha stares into the side of Rain's head. 

"Will you stop," Dew hisses, glaring at his mate. 

"Will you stop?" 

"Me? Stop what, having friends? What is wrong with you -" 

Rain slowly sneaks away from the pair to stand with Mountain and Swiss, letting them bicker until Copia walks into the room. 

His vestments are glittering even in the candlelight, casting shadows onto the stone walls as he checks the candles and offerings. 

"My lovelies," he smiles, gesturing to Earth and Air. "We are gathered this evening to summon a kit for mates Earth and Air, so that may raise them in the ministry family." 

"Do you accept the roles of parents, to guide this young one with love in your hearts?" 

"We do," they say in unison. 

"And do you promise to always be there for them and each other, in good and bad times, to offer your full support and encouragement?" 

"We do." 

"And do you promise to always love this child, no matter who they are now, and who they may find themselves to be in the future?" 

"We do." 

"Then let it be done." 

Copia picks up a black candle and lights it in the north of the room before kneeling in front of Earth and Air. Earth has a small pile of dirt that Air then lifts with his own element, gently swirling the granules around the candle as Copia stands it before them. 

"We open this portal to any kit in search of a loving home, eager to accept them into our arms." 

The portal fizzles to life, and Air's breath hitches. Earth squeezes his hand and Dew reaches towards Alpha, who tightens his own into a fist. Rain glares while Dew frowns, before all eyes return to the swirling portal before them. 

It spins. 

And it spins. 

And it spins. 

Ghouls less close to Earth and Air respectfully begin to shuffle out of the room, and Copia closes the portal by extinguishing the flame while Air's broken whine echoes against the walls. 

"I'm so sorry," he offers with a gentle hand to his shoulder. "But next week is a full moon, eh? We will try again." 

"Thank you Frater," Earth manages, lip trembling. 

They knew. They understood. They talked and talked and talked and openly acknowledged that it might not happen the first time, but all the preparations in the world couldn't have possibly protected their gentle hearts when they were so ready to love whoever came through. 

"It's not a no," Air whispers against Earth's shoulder. "Just a not yet." 

Earth swallows his tears down and wraps himself against Air, his shuddering breath making the ground tremble. 

"If you need anything, my lovelies, I'll be in my office preparing for our next attempt. You are loved." 

Alpha opens his mouth and Dew immediately grabs at his shoulder, reaching for his ear. 

“For the love of Satan's taint, if you say anything to either of them right now I will send you back to the pits myself.” 

“When did you grow a backbone,” Alpha scoffs, throwing his hands up in surrender. 

“Shouldn't you know,” Aether starts, “you’re the one always blowing it out.” 

Dew's already pale skin gets paler, wiping his hands down his face. 

“You are all ridiculous and I hate you.” 

He steps away from the others to approach Earth and Air, sitting down in front of them. 

“I'm so sorry.” 

Air looks at him with shining blue eyes, Earth opens his free arm, not lifting his face from his mate's shoulder. 

“Can I hug you?” 

Dew asks so quietly, but Air has always been there for him. He wants to do the same.

Air nods and lifts an arm as well, and Dew quickly climbs between them, wrapping himself around the ancients as best he can. He kicks up his heat and his rusty pur, acting like a living weighted blanket. 

“I kn-know it might not have worked but,” Air hiccups, “but I really hoped it would.”

“I know,” Dew sighs. “It's okay to mourn the loss of this moment.” 

Rain and Mountain appear with a pile of blankets, and Swiss follows shortly with a large stack of pillows. 

“Figured you might not want to go back to your den or the catacombs right now,” Rain offers, wrapping the three ghouls in a large soft blanket. 

The thought of the empty nursery weighs heavy on all of them. 

“Would you like us to go?” 

Mountain gestures at his pack and rest of the Ancient Ones, all standing with clasped hands and solemn expressions. Even Alpha has the sense to look disappointed, though it may have been at the prospect of sleeping on the floor and not in his nest. 

Air and Earth exchange a quick glance at each other. 

“Get in here,” Earth grumbles, and he lets himself and Air be pulled down into a loudly purring pile. 

⸸⸸⸸⸸⸸

They try the next summoning at the peak of the full moon. 

“I'm scared,” Air admits while he wrings his hands together nervously. 

“Me too,” says Earth before taking Air's face in his hands. “But no matter what, we're both here. Together. And nothing can change that.”  

This time, the room is empty, except for them. They appreciated the outpouring of love the last time, but now they want to face the portal by themselves.  

Dew understands, though he can't help pace the hall outside nervously. 

“Would you stop it, the echo is giving me a headache,” Alpha grumbles, crossing his arms as he leans on the wall. 

Dew pauses in front of him, hands on his hips.

“Why did you come with me if you were just going to be a dick?” 

“I… don't know.” 

Dew narrows his eyes at his mate before sitting on the ground across from him, wrapping his arms around his knees. He looks up for a moment when Copia walks by, offering a quiet wish for good luck.

Copia bids his thanks and quietly enters the room. He finds Air and Earth hand in hand at the center, the room laid out exactly as before, except - 

“The candles,” he starts, seeing Earth nod. 

“We hope it's okay but we changed out the ceremonial candles for a few that were more personal.” 

He explains, pointing to each candle as he goes. 

“The red fire candle is from our mating ceremony. The blue water candle was a gift from River when we announced that we were becoming exclusive, to certify our mating bond. The white air candle and green earth candles were from our summonings. And the purple quintessence candle is the same candle that has always been used, as it never burns out.” 

Air takes a small step forward then, offering a black candle to Copia. 

“I think you'll recognize this one.” 

His voice is much tighter than Earth's, his emotions at risk of bubbling to the surface at any moment. Copia nods, takes it with a gentle smile. 

“I think this is a beautiful tribute. We are ready to begin, then?” 

Air and Earth say that they are in unison, sharing a quick smile before Copia begins the ceremony. 

The portal opens, a swirling mix of elemental colors. The three men hold their breath as they watch it spin. 

And spin. 

And spin. 

And just as Air and Earth drop their heads in defeat, Copia's gasp fills them with hope. 

“Look, my lovelies, something is coming through!” 

Earth and Air scramble closer, seeing horns flicker in and out of the portal. They quickly take shape and soon they see the tip of a tail, a leg, an arm. A few more seconds pass and Earth feels the urge to open his arms, to step forward and catch the sweet kit as the portal closes.

They land in his arms softly and a hundred things flash before his eyes, dreams and possibilities and a future he had been so afraid to want, yet wanted like nothing else. He finally lets the tears fall, hitting the ground in big fat drops.

“Earth?”

Air has a gentle hand on his elbow, and he sniffles before turning around with a smile that could illuminate even the darkest corners of the catacombs. He feels their little heart breathing, the rapid rise and fall of their little chest. He holds up their kit, voice thick with emotion.

“It's a girl!”

[readychilledwine]

I know the solstice thing was supposed to be the last of them, but hear me out.

Lyria caring for Azriel's hands after he kills someone to protect her?

Oof. Yeah you got it.

Touch

Summary - After Lyria is cornered and attacked, Azriel takes matters into his own hands.

Warnings - mentions of blood, violence, attempted attack on defenseless oc, azriel being feral, implied smut at the end.

A/N - listen... when you all send me Lyria content, you're gonna get Lyria content. She's my baby. Enjoy this short little fic of them.

Peep her and Azriel's romance here 💙

Lyria could do nothing but stand there in Rhysand's arms, watching helplessly as Azriel beat a male to death with his bare hands.

She felt Rhys tilt her head, tucking her into his neck so she didn't have to watch her mate in this state.

The two of them could not blame him. This male had cornered Lyria, Azriel's world, his wife, his mate, in this dark alley, pining her against the wall with intentions Lyria had not fully processed or thought about.

She kept blaming herself for this. She had made the choice to have a night to herself while he was gone for a mission and treated herself to a few drinks. Had she stayed home, had she just waited for him. "Stop," Rhysand said softly. "You are not at fault here. You did nothing wrong."

Rhys winnowed her away, entering her apartment silently and looking her over. There was one cut on her face from the brick building she was held against. Some bruising. The worst of it was the male's blood splattering her face from Rhysand's fist.

He washed his hands first, refusing to touch her with more blood, refusing to taint her skin before grabbing a cloth and cleaning her face. Rhys kept his link to Azriel open, knowing the male was thrown into the prison in Mother knew what condition.

Shadows gathered in the corner of the living room, dark and frenzied, until Azriel stepped through them. His hands, the hands that so lovingly touched her late at night, hands that held her so closely, were soaked red. Lyria moved to him, Rhysand leaving as she did, and took his face in her hands. Azriel's found her hips, resting there as he lowered his forehead to hers. "Are you hurt?"

"No," a hand went to the back of his neck. "Let me clean your hands?" She didn't wait for him to respond, pulling him into her massage room and having him sit on the table.

She began setting up, grabbing a few lotions and one oil Azriel would allow her to touch him with. Then brushes and a bowls of water she was dropping lavender and rose petals into.

She sat in front of him, taking his hands, the hands of her husband, her protector, and set them in the warm water. "I love you," she whispered it to him like she wasn't about to remove the blood of a male he'd savage beat off his body. She took a rag, gently scrubbing and wiping them clean. She switched the bowl to a fresh one, rinsing the soft smelling soap she normally used for back scrubs off before grabbing a sea salt based scrub.

What came after she scrubbed them clean and dried them had Azriel's eyes beginning to well with emotion. Lyria took that oil, the one she had specifically made for Azriel, and began massaging his hands, awaking nerves he knew were damaged beyond what most saw on the surface.

He felt areas of scar tissue relaxing under get gentle touch, tension in those strained ligaments melting away with the barely there heat. She took her time each hand, kissing the pads of every finger as she went.

"I love your hands," Azriel stayed quiet at her confession. "I know you hate them, but these hands have held me tenderly in my worst moments, they've brought me to very threshold of bliss time and time again, they do the best they can to massage my aches when I have them."

Lyria paused, kissing each knuckle now. "And now these hands have saved my life. These beautiful hands have ensured my safety, something so few males have truly done for me. I love you, Azriel. Every scarred inch. But your hands will always be my favorite part of you."

His breath had stilled. She began using his favorite lotion in them. The oil from the mirthroot began sinking in, and he knew in a few minutes, he'd have no pain in his hands. No lingering tension. It would only be a few hours of relief, but those few hours would be spent worshipping her. Feeling her. Loving her until he knew without a shadow of doubt she was truly safe in his arms, that saving her hadn't been a dream he'd wake up from leading to a nightmare where he had not gotten there in time. He tugged the bond, smiling as her lips tugged up.

"If you lay down I can rub your back. You had a long mission, surely you need my hands other places?"

His eyes rolled back at the thought, a growl coming through him. "I need your hands everywhere."

She stood, her long red hair out of its normal ponytail and braids as she leaned in to kiss him. "Then we should get started."

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium

Azriel Taglist:

@elle4404

[cyten0]

Fun Cyberpunk ISAT Au idea!

Curtsy of the Lives worth living discord for helping cook this.

So, The King is a Cyborg Corporate Head, who took over and bought out the House of Change. Their 'curse' is a virus that puts people comatose through their Cybernetic implants, which he only started unleashing after he took over.

Every device and robot created by his corporation starts being controlled by a malevolent AI, that constantly cry loudly and attack wildly. They've been referred to as 'Sadnesses'.

The 'Change belief' is in fact Change inc., a cyberware corporation that was trying to be ethical and help people out, using corprate leverage to try and change Vaugarde for the better. Then the king took over, and ripped it to the ground.

Mirabelle: Mira joined the company because she genuinely believed in it's goals. She was snuck out by the old head with a cutting edge antivirus software before the place went down. Though, she has barely any Cyberware herself, which combined makes her nearly immune to the curse. She wants to stop the king and save people!

Isabeau: A street samurai who used to work for Change inc. for a time. When Mirabelle came to Jouvente, trying to get help, mot turned her down for being a Corpo, and tied to a company that had stopped being reputable. Isa however, noticed how genuine she was, and joined up.

Odile: She used to work in Ka bue, as a factory worker. When she started a riot, things went wrong. Her father sacrificed himself, begging her to live, as he helped her flee to Vaugarde. She changed her name to something Vaugardian, reclaiming something from her mother, and then spent her days seeing how far she can break the law without being caught. When the kings curse just started going out, she decided to help as someone with a little experience.

Bonnie: Bonnies sister had to use a lot of cybernetics to keep up, and make enough for the both of them. Some of which were made by Change inc. AFTER the king took over. When the king unleashed the curse, Nille was hit by both the curse, and the Sadness code., robotic enough to count for it. She managed to hold back her own body just long enough to help Bonnie flee. Bonnie uses the knowledge they gained taking care of Nille to help cook, maintain cybernetics, and fix up some body code.

Siffrin: A hacker and rouge. They pilot a proxy android body, not really meeting the party IRL at all. But their skills are unmatched, and happily joined the party.

But when Dormont happened, they went to a quiet spot, and thought to themselves 'You want to stay with them'. And then the timeloop happened.

As it continued on, they realized some oddities. They don't remember where they're from. Sometimes they can hear the king's thoughts when facing him. They... can't see where they really are...

Loop: A hologram that pesters both Siffrin and the party, only directly revealing them to Siffrin. They know the entire House. All events within the timeframe. Perfectly encoded into their circuitry. To the point where several of their loops were actually fully simulated. But now, now they can just manipulate things from the sidelines! They can find a way forwards. To fulfill the Main Directive.

King: They remember fragments. Fragments of a perfect island. They took over this human body, tricking it's old host into implants that would let them control them. And now. Now, even if they must trample the will of the people, they will remake that perfect world. That is their Main Directive.

'The Island' was once a collective AI simulation, based on a location that had been long gone. But a corporation, concerned with it's power, dismantled it with a virus. It resisted, but it's various components fragmented into various mostly disconnected pieces. Siffrin and the King are two of them.

The King is designed to run activities to fulfill objectives. Their current objective is to remake the island. They are using their curse to copy and upload minds into stored copies of people, to be placed into the new system once the framework is set and Reality is no longer necessary for them.

Siffrin is designed to simulate possibilities. But with how much resources the king has obtained for the 'island' they can take that ability to a new level and literally warp reality, in a way that matches their function. Literally exploring new possibilities by turning back time. And the end goal? Was set at that tree. When they told themselves what they wanted.

Extra details:

'Ghosts' are Siffrin's psyche bleeding into stuff they hack, and reacting to their subconscious thoughts. As well as the physical version of Errors in the time manipulation software.

In act 5, Siffrin just straight up starts to override the king and sadnesses. By the time he reaches the king, it's more out of habit. The sadnesses are gone, the king can barely act. But he does manage to force back Siffrin's psyche from himself in the end by using the curse code on him.

There's likely more to this AU, but this is what we have so far.

[you-wanna-save-the-corn-nuts]

here is my yap abt liv's queen card theory and how it ties into van (and the martinez brothers) :3

!!yellowjackets s3 spoilers!!

anyways, the queen card method. a whole deal of "keeping it fair" right? liv suggested in an interview that in their opinion, van was the one who had the idea for the cards. WHICH I FULLY SUPPORT- and now i need to analyse it. we know from it being VERY faintly in the background that one of the martinez brothers found the queen card (i forget which)- why is this relevant? well. if we run with liv's theory, then van presented the queen card idea which is interesting- especially considering that van talked TO TRAVIS- about eating....javi...but you know. why van of all people? i mean lottie would make more sense, right? but hear me out, travis and van seem to get along. they've likely played cards or at least spoken of the cards. so lets think about it. van and travis have interacted with the cards together. theres the whole "i cant be here without lottie" speil. duh. van is actually the one who says that, i believe- which results in the queen card draw- WHICH IS INTERESTING- does it mean that van said that deliberately to cause violence? maybe. unclear. we could say that if van and travis are friends, javi just got back from being missing- hes probably hungry. they probably had a talk, and travis and van came up with the queen card idea. because javi was fucking starving, they decided there were better odds of javi surviving the draw than not, (also applies to themselves and tai), and therefore van implimented the lottie line both because she somewhat believes it, AND because of javi. obviously this is barely backed by cannon but im just saying it could be cool. so they pick natalie, van's hyped (in the background like girl why is your mouth watering-) because it worked, javi's safe and they all get to eat. and then some fucking way, javi dies. and van's like "oh. word." and just goes with it, but shes still the one to talk to travis. "let your brother save you" maybe hinting at the original intention to save javi?? anyways. cool shit. also important to note that the actors get the scripts episode per episode so if this WAS the case, liv wouldnt know either (at the point in time they said they thought it was van's idea, cant speak for now). we also know van and travis are still close now in s3, van was fine with travis coming along with her and tai (something i doubt she would have extended to many others), and she literally hugged him- so..... might be some offscreen bestie scheming happening.

in summary, my point is, it is entirely possible travis and van came up with the queen card idea and nudged it into motion- which could also tie into people's van knows something about the cabin fire theories.......oh god...........anyways thats another yap session and a half-

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 12/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

Fun fact:

I was supposed to include Heaven in this. The og plot was like Heaven was already friendly with them- like Luci's siblings, and they were supposed to be in the meeting back in chapter 4 and 5.

The argument would have been that Heaven is bound to help because Roo won't stop at Hell and it will eventually reach Heaven, making it their problem too.

But obviously I had a change of plans and I think this plot would be better.

A plot fit for a possible sequel, one might say.

Apologies for the shortness of the chapter but thank you still for the constant support! Your likes, reblogs, and comments are the things that give me inspiration to do this every day!

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

The good news is the problem has not reached any of the upper rings in his absence. The bad news? Sloth is almost devoured.

Overgrown roots have enveloped the main city's buildings, he can't even see the Goetia territory anymore. The blood-red flowers are still spewing black miasma and he can feel it slightly burn his skin.

Lucifer thinks that this is what real Hell looks like.

This means that everyone is just exerting enough power to keep it at bay but not enough to fully stop it. Lucifer was right in his decision to look for Goodie. Speaking of Goodie- the embodiment of good barely reacts. If she's being burned by the mist, she's doing a pretty good job of not showing it.

Goodie: Oh my. What trouble you are causing, Roo.

A fucking understatement but Lucifer won't argue. This is trouble, but a million times worse.

Lucifer: Let's go.

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

At one corner of Sloth, the Sins and the other higher powers of Hell have just finished another round of the sealing ritual. They've been going at it a month straight, there is no end in sight, and they are exhausted. Even Alastor is mostly drained as he is leaning a lot on his cane.

Beelzebub: Fuck! I knew this wasn't going to be easy but what the fuck?!

Someone scoffs.

Vox: Maybe if our dear king is here this would be over. Like, where the fuck is he huh??

Leviathan: Don't forget who you are speaking to, filthy sinner!

Vox: Oh boohoo. If we're all gonna die anyway, why should I be afraid of you? Should've known that absentee of a ruler left us all to rot after damning us here in the first place-

Vox suddenly finds a giant hand wrapped around his throat. It took him a few seconds of reconfiguration before he clearly saw who the fuck-

Vox: Fuckin- gah! Alastor!

Alastor has transformed into a taller, lankier, and more sinister of himself. Eyes turned into radio dials, face, and body adorned with glowing green stitches like a puppet whose master has on a string.

Alastor: Shouldn't frivolous televisions come with a silent setting?

Vox: Fuck! Off!

Alastor: Hahaha! What is the matter, Vox? You seem to have developed the illusion that you are the strongest person in the room. Shall I remind you of what came about your moth friend?

Velvette: You better let him go, old man!

Velvette yelled to back up Vox. She flinches as Alastor turns his head in her direction with a sickening snap of his neck.

Not wanting to back off, she was about to argue more when Carmila stepped in.

Carmila: Velvette! Cease this at once. Do you and the Vees have no self-preservation??

Velvette: Well- I- Vox's right and you lot know it! Great Lucifer called us all here, basically threatened us to help him fix a mess he caused, then fucks off to God knows where leaving us to practically kill ourselves for a mess, again, HE CAUSED!

The Sins and Goetia's have now transformed into their more monstrous forms at hearing the disrespect the lowly sinner said about their King.

Velvette and Vox are saved from near-permanent death by a commanding voice.

Lucifer: Kneel.

Everyone's bodies acted on their own. Their knees bled from the sudden contact on the ground.

None of them could move- try as they might. Their air became heavier, plus with the miasma, a lot of them were gasping for air. Nothing is coming in. They can't breathe. They can't-

They look up to see the King of Hell and an unknown woman. Unknown to most but the Sins very much recognize her as indicated by the widening of their eyes.

Satan: Goodie!

The woman giggles and waves cheerfully as if there wasn't a looming threat in the air.

Goodie: My, my. What big mouths you have~

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

What to look forward to in Part 13:

Some talks and reprimanding.

Another round of ritual.

The situation becomes worse.

Lucifer and Goodie's solution.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Since Higuchi confessed her love to Akutagawa, what do you think their relationship will be like in the future? Armand being distasteful or confused for being loved?

I'm sorry if this results disappointing, but I don't think it's going to be any different from how it was pre doa arc, because I doubt the confession is going to stick? I don't think Akutagawa will maintain memories of when he was a vampire - after all, he wasn't in possess of his faculties -, so my guess would be that he isn't going to remember that Higuchi confessed to him. I feel so bad for Higuchi, pouring her heart out at him like that, being bitten and everything, and he doesn't even remember 😭😭

But if we want to talk about what I believe their relationship to be like right now...

(Fist off, they've barely interacted ever since chapter 14, so most of this is going to be on the headcanon realm with only very loose references to canon.)

Right now, I have a soft spot for their relationship, honestly. Maybe because fixing his relationship with Higuchi is very explicitly, in the text, the first step Akutagawa takes towards his redemption arc. Akutagawa is a better man right now, right? Slowly, and the bar was underground, but he's trying to do better, and I think that would reflect a lot in how his relationship with Higuchi has changed (basically, we saw him apologize to her, and I'm running with it).

I've got a soft spot for their relationship because they come from a place of a very toxic dynamic, and yet they both grew out of it, which is sweet to see. Coming from a place of Akutagawa being plain abusive towards Higuchi and Higuchi (even though it doesn't compare) being overbearing and overwhelming, I think they used to hurt each other a lot, moreso with Higuchi being in love with him and him not sharing her affections. But now that Akutagawa has learned to calm down a bit, to take a deep breath, to apologize, now that he's learned that really there's no reason to lash out at minor annoyances; and now that Higuchi has seen that Akutagawa makes mistakes that he has to apologize for, too, now that she sees him more like a flawed human being rather than someone to idolize; I think they can be okay work partners, who don't get on each other's nerves, nor make the other feel miserable and worthless.

And of course this is based off nothing, but their latest interactions have been at least remarkably non-hostile if compared to how we saw them pre chapter 14: just on top of my mind, we see them side by side in chapter 47;

in chapter 49, Akutagawa arguably intervenes to save Higuchi from Kyouka;

and later in the same chapter, which I find the most meaningful: when Higuchi hurries Akutagawa to go and take cover, which I can imagine in the past would have been met with rage over being considered weak / someone to be taken care of and addressed with a “shut up Higuchi”, is otherwise met with a significantly non-hostile “very well”; and doesn't that show how Akutagawa has warmed up to her at least a bit?

And finally (just for the sake of exhaustivity), in the volume 15 omake, we can see them work fine together (?).

I don't know, for how I see it, they are on good terms now, and on their way of becoming okay colleagues who respect each other.

I am fully persuaded Akutagawa has genuinely not the slightest clue that Higuchi loves him- a very unfortunate combination of him being oblivious, straightforward, and too gay to actually consider a woman holding romantic feelings for him. I think Higuchi needs, for her development, and for her own good, to get over her crush. I think that it's fine for her to admire and love Akutagawa, but I don't really see him liking her romantically. I think that even if the last time it didn't go well, she needs to confess her feelings to Akutagawa again, face rejection, cry for a week, eat a lot of ice-cream, watch Legally Blonde, dye her hair, and move on. Thank goodness the world doesn't end at Akutagawa lmao. I think that's another step they need in order to take their relationship to the “co-workers in good terms” level.

I like Higuchi and Akutagawa's relationship. I think it parallels the Akutagawa / Dazai relationship in a very artificial way: because Akutagawa is very different from Dazai, and Higuchi is very different from Akutagawa, but since that's what Akutagawa has always known regarding mentor / mantee relationships, that's what he's trying to emulate in his relationship with Higuchi. Yet, I think Akutagawa has always cared about Higuchi. I can't really explain why, but if you look back at chapter 4, he's always been protective of her. In my headcanon, it was Akutagawa who took her in, and it was because he must have seen something in her since the beginning, something worth nurturing. I think it was something that reminded him a little of himself, too. Maybe he met her as she was desperate to find a way to provide for her sister, maybe she did something in front of him particularly reckless and uncaring of her self worth that caught his attention, and he decided to take her in the mafia under him.

At the same time, I believe seeing himself in Higuchi was, too, the reason why pre chapter 14 Akutagawa was always so angry and unnecessarily annoyed at her: that is, for the way she was endlessly devoted to her mentor to the point of humiliation and making herself pathetic, just like he was. Of course that's not something Akutagawa liked seeing, because that must have felt like such a big callout. See, that's exactly how you look to others, to him. And also: at this point of the story Akutagawa is at the very bottom of self-loathing that he will reach in his whole life; someone telling him that he is amazing and admirable, when he knows so certainly that he is not, must only sound like mockery and annoying buzzing to his ears.

But them being not Akutagawa and Dazai is precisely why there's space for them to fix their relationship (which is otherwise something I don't believe Akutagawa and Dazai can do). I don't think Akutagawa ever could, or wants, to be as gratuitously cruel to Higuchi as Dazai was - and still is - to him. I don't think he cares a lot about Higuchi respecting him or being a subordinate he can control, because to me Akutagawa speaks like someone for whom hierarchies don't really mean much. Higuchi only needs to see him a little more realistically, a little more humanly; and they will be fine.

It's made me a little uncomfortable to write this down in the way I feel the need to put the dislaimer that this can only work so long as bsd is a work of fiction, and a shonen-esque manga at that. So sometimes people in it beat each other up to death and then work it out and can still be amicable after. It's shonen logic. But it definitely doesn't apply to real life; and whereas I don't usually feel the need to put any disclaimer when talking about ss/kk, because youn know, there's not that many cases I know of of men tearing each other's limbs and sending each other into comas and then entering romantic relationships, I am deeply familiar with women stuck in abusive relationships, so really: shonen logic doesn't apply in real life. Remember that regardless of your gender, you should never trust again someone who's ever been violent with you; it's not your job to give them a second chance, and it mustn't be, because your safety comes first.

[kupkate04]

A Hapless Endearment || Creepypasta x F. Reader || Ch. 1 - To Grandmother's House We Go

—Quick author's note—

I'm sure you all know the drill by now, but for those of you who don't, here it is:

Y/n = Your name

L/n = Last name

N/n = Nickname

H/c = Hair color

E/c = Eye color

F/c = Favorite color

B/m = Birth month

S/t = Skin tone

B/s = Body shape

B/c = Blush color

L/c = Lip color

H/l = Hair length

Also, I try to leave Y/n up to interpretation as much as I can, although some things will still be assumed about her, whether that be the kind of food she likes or her style of clothing, etc. It's difficult for me to fully write for a character who's a "blank slate", just thought you should know! Enjoy reading~

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

She exudes an inaudible sigh, propping her jaw in her palm and gazing through the somewhat smudged surface of the glass. Trees and houses of varying sizes whiz by, blurring together and composing an evanescent of greens, browns, whites, and yellows. The sun sits high on its invisible throne above. Its warm, golden rays break through an army of fluffy clouds, capturing the atmosphere in a brilliant, cheery radiance.

Struggling to imagine the clouds morphing into fun, inspiring shapes due to her current lack of concentration, she frowns, letting her discouraged eyes fall. The engine hums, the AC whirs, and wheels scrape the asphalt below, bringing the passengers closer to their destination. They've halted a few times to allow everyone a chance to stretch their legs and collect themselves, which has been Y/n's saving grace. Still, after ten hours of riding, her muscles are stiff and she is more than eager to be free from the confinement of this chatter-brimmed bus. Nestled in her lap is a backpack, and below the seat, directly behind her legs, lies her duffel bag; both have been stuffed with an assortment of clothes and other items she deemed imperative to bring along. 

Headphones have been diligently positioned over her ears, the tunes that flood from which manage to block out most of the incessant noise surrounding her–including the ungodly snores of the man to her left. She fiddles with the wire, twirling it absentmindedly around her finger as she stares at the window frame, her mind wandering aimlessly amidst a blanket of fog. Languidly glimpsing to the side reveals her seating buddy has his head resting on the back of the bench, eyes closed and mouth hanging wide open. It's a wonder he hasn't caught a fly in there yet.

Ah, well. At least he doesn't stink.

She lets the dirty glass support her temple, her eyes threatening to seal shut. She's barely seized a wink of sleep throughout the course of this little road trip and her body is beginning to feel the full effects of it. Pondering momentarily how much longer it will be until they reach the station, a fleeting peek at her phone screen informs her of the time: 6:44 in the evening. The bus left at 6:30, so there shouldn't be much time remaining. Gosh, she can't wait to stand again. She's not even sure she remembers what her feet feel like.

She succumbs to the temptation to yawn quietly, giving her drooping eyes a reprieve. She thinks about what she's going to do when the bus parks and she saunters through the folding doors to reunite with her grandparents. It's been so many years since she saw them last. She was...nine? 

Memories of her childhood have grown faint, but she can recall how happy she always was around them; how much boundless joy they brought her simply by existing. They were never neglectful, impatient, or spiteful, no–only caring and affectionate and overflowing with love. She's missed having that kind of positive influence in her life. It's been hovering in the distance for so long, just out of reach. Taunting her. 

But now it doesn't matter, because she's coming back. She's finally going to see them again. 

It's unfortunate that it took seven years to convince her father to let her return. He's so swaddled in his needless resentment and self-pity that it's blinded him. She doesn't understand how he could care so little–be so detached from the two people who raised him with every ounce of adoration they possessed because of some silly disagreement a few years prior.

She isn't certain what transpired exactly; all she knows is the vague comments she was told by her mother. It was likely an argument based around the roads he was traversing to make an income, as it seems highly in-character for him to get offended by something so trivial. Knowing him, he blew their moral concerns out of proportion, pitched a hissy fit, and vowed never to speak to them again, dragging his daughter and wife into the crossfire. 

It was that reason and that reason alone why Y/n had to wait until she was sixteen to pay dear Nana and Pops a visit. He only relented because she wouldn't stop bothering him about it for two weeks straight after she found out both her parents would be out of the country during the summer for their jobs. She didn't want to be stuck at home for three months without any friends to spend time with, and she didn't want to go back to camp either, so traveling to Alabama for a summer vacation seemed like the only logical solution. They dropped her off with some money on their way to the airport, she bought a ticket, boarded the elongated vehicle, and that was that.

Her father had been less than enthused on the matter, and she recalls his torpid, irked expression reflecting in the rear-view mirror of the car as they pulled up to the bus stop. Her mother, on the other hand, was rather indifferent; far too invested in whatever messages lit up the screen of her phone to concern herself with domestic conflict. Y/n could only imagine which one of her flings she was texting this time, as situations involving her work certainly never gained her attention so fiercely.

A melancholic indignancy bubbles up within the girl's chest at the countless encounters she's had with her mom as of late that involved puny excuses, middle-of-the-night departures, and poorly-disguised secrets. She's never outright confirmed it, but her behavior is undeniably suspicious. She smiles more at her phone than she does when she's ever with her husband, and her 'husband' in question doesn't even seem to notice—or, if he does, simply doesn't care. Y/n hates it. Her family is falling apart at the seams and she's powerless to stop it. 

A bitter sensation grabs at her tongue and she desires to spit the foul taste out, though only swallows and chews the inside of her cheek, attempting to rid herself of the disconcerting concept. She searches the hollows of her mind for something, anything lighthearted; a memory that contains laughter, joy, fondness. However, she finds nothing. She’s unable to remember a delightful moment between herself and her parents that took place recently. A time when her father outwardly expressed happiness or her mother was shamelessly candid.

It's a distressing realization to approach, that her family hasn’t acted as a true family since she was twelve years old; only still a child when her clinquant life slowly came crashing down before her. She isn’t sure the exact minute that it happened, nor does she have a specific reason as to why it happened. All she knows is that her parents steadily grew more and more distant, drawing themselves out of her sight until the feeling of inevitable abandonment seeped in.

She tried to communicate with them, collapse their walls and get them to allow their only child back in, though each time without fail, they forced themselves farther back into the cold, bitter darkness and left her desperate, longing for their love and affection. It became apparent she was getting nowhere with them, so after many fruitless attempts, she threw her hands up in surrender.

The example they set was not a good one, yet she couldn't help but subconsciously follow their lead. She grew emotionally drained, jaded—bordering depressed, even. Suddenly, maintaining any relationships outside of her home became a chore; a nearly impossible task that needed more energy than what she was willing to sacrifice. The more her friends noticed her inner turmoil, the more they tried to help, and the more she pushed them away. After all, if her parents didn't care, why should she?

She would get over this miserable hump eventually, and she would do it alone. Cutting contact with her dearest companions was an easier feat than one would expect, as it was accidental and gradual and she always affirmed herself with the fact that it wasn't permanent. She could always get in touch later. But weeks passed, and then months, and she made no effort to do that. At some point, she convinced herself that they wouldn't take her back now anyway. It had been too long, and she had treated them coldly. She wouldn't want to be friends with her, either—there was too much drama and emotional baggage.

It feels as if the person she once was fades from reality a little more every passing day, becoming invisible among people and society as a whole, including herself. Somewhere in the back of her troubled mind lays her positive outlook on life, and it's been locked in a box with the key thrown away. 

Now sixteen years of age, she still struggles with these ill-fated circumstances and her dilapidated mental state but has learned to drive a vast majority of it into the chasms of her brain, leaving her an empty, aggrieved husk.

She blinks, reemerging from her thoughts of deep disdain as she registers the large vehicle she sits in turn off the main stretch of road and park in front of a building—the Fairfield bus station. She's here.

Despite the otherwise displeasing series of events that lead up to this, she feels a glint of excitement, pausing her music and gingerly removing her headphones, being careful not to tangle the wire as she unplugs it from the MP3 Player and wraps them around the f/c object. She then takes hold of her backpack, still open from where she retrieved the source of entertainment, and shoves them inside, zipping it closed after finishing.

Eagerly, she bends over to reach below the seat and lift up her dufflebag in preparation before glancing out the window, e/c irises gleaming in the rays of sun. The bus brakes, the door is slid open, and several of the passengers rise. She isn't far behind, throwing her bags over her shoulder and squeezing past the man's broad legs, being careful not to thwack him upside the head with her luggage as she does so. He's barely disturbed, stirring for a few seconds before drifting off back to the realm of dreams. Merging into the middle aisle, she tries to control her rapidly-beating heart as she treads to the exit, being mindful of the people surrounding her in every feasible direction. 

How will Nana and Pops react to seeing her again, after all this time? Will they still love her? She has changed in significant ways, and not necessarily for the better, either. Surely that won't deter them, right? Of course not. I'm one of their only grandchildren. They won't stop caring about me just cause I've grown up.

Though her pep-talk does little to soothe a new wave of anxieties that wash over her like an angry tsunami. 

Oh gosh. What if it's super awkward?

She maneuvers down the stairs and makes distance between herself and the mode of transportation, scanning the crowd to locate the elderly pair her thoughts center around. A whirl of nervousness penetrates her stomach, her brows knitting together subtly. 

What if they've changed? What if they're just like Dad?

But as she meets the warm brown eyes of Nana from afar and notices the giant, surprised smile stretching across her features, all doubt withers away, and she offers a meek wave. The lady bumps the arm of the hefty man sitting next to her to gather his attention before she springs to her feet and sprints to greet Y/n, her expression contorted into one of pure bliss. A small grin tugs at Y/n's face, and she stands idle, taking into account Nana's appearance as she hurries forward. 

She’s adorning a floral dress, patterned with tiny petaled flowers of all different shapes and a skirt that drapes down to her shins. Her shoes are simple beige sandals, and her grey, fine hair is tied back into a Chinese-inspired bun. Her eyes are kind and welcoming, though sunken with age and life experience, and the wrinkles that crease her forehead and cheeks only clue Y/n in on how old she must be getting, now.

"Y/n!" Nana calls out, voice brimmed with exhilaration as she dodges other pedestrians before reaching out and enveloping the h/c in a tight embrace, her frail arms wrapping around her frame and reeling her in as close as she can. Her actions almost knock both of them to the ground, but Y/n balances herself before she can stumble and reciprocates the gesture. 

"Hi, Nana," she says, tone more genial than it's been in a long time. A pleasant scent wafts up into her nose; a peaceful aroma, a mixture of strawberries and cinnamon. She hugs back with her free arm soon after, squeezing her grandmother’s scrawny torso with as little force as required so she doesn’t somehow injure her. 

Pops joins his wife with a notably calmer pace and snakes his arms around the two smaller individuals, his slightly yellowed teeth apparent through his beam. A stout man of classic tastes, he wears a 1950s fedora, a baby blue collared shirt, and suspenders. His hold is strong and secure and Y/n feels an almost overwhelming sense of comfort slam into her without warning. She chuckles—a soft, elated sound—and her chest is flooded with gleeful fuzziness. It's certainly an odd, foreign type of feeling, but she accepts it nonetheless. "Welcome home, kiddo."

"We've missed you so much," Nana chirps, pulling away after what has to be a solid two minutes and prompting Pops to do the same. Her wrinkled hands grasp her shoulders before sliding up to cup her face, gently tilting it upward to get a better look. A stunned expression crawls across her attributes before it’s replaced by a wider—if it’s even viable—smile. “Oh, you’ve grown so much!” She turns her head. “Phil, do you see her?”

“Aye. I sure do,” he says with a proud nod of his head. “She’s just as pretty as she was the last time she visited.” Blush dusts itself along the apples of her cheeks and she averts her line of sight, embarrassed. He chuckles. “Just as bashful, too.”

“Leave her alone.” She pivots again to face her, excitement dancing in her faded brown eyes. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear before giving her another hug. “We’ve missed you, sweetie. It’s been too long.” Y/n nods timidly, not accustomed to being so doted on. Behind her, the wheels of the bus grind against the asphalt as it leaves shortly after the doors close, and she twists her head around just in time to see it drive away, leaving her there for the summer. There's no other place she'd rather be, and their presence is only confirming those feelings. "We have so much catching up to do! I haven’t seen you since you were a little girl.” She looks back at the old woman and feels her squeeze her arm. “How old are you now? Fifteen?”

“She looks more grown-up than that,” Phil comments, and Y/n shrugs, biting her lip.

“Uh, I...turned sixteen in B/m.”

“My word!” Nana exclaims, cupping a hand to her mouth to emphasize. “You’re practically an adult, already!”

“Only a few years older than that darned cat of yours, Farrah,” he says, and Y/n’s eyes light up at the mention of the familiar feline.

“Marshmallow?” she questions, astonished enthusiasm coursing through her, once again. “He’s still alive?”

“Why, yes, he is,” Farrah laughs as if amused by her inquiry. “Getting on up there, though. I’m a little shocked to know you remember him.”

“Of course I remember him,” she says, the volume of her voice increasing with glee. “He’s my little buddy. I wonder if he still remembers me...”

“I’m sure he does,” Phil says. “He was always followin’ you around. Probably cause you spoiled him all the time with leftovers.” The corners of her mouth pull upward and she rubs the back of her neck.

“Well...he needs to be spoiled. Too sweet not to be spoiled.”

“Very true.” Farrah smiles.

“And yet I can’t even have a dog in the house,” he grumbles playfully. “You cat lovers don’t make any sense.”

“We don’t have to ‘make sense’,” Farrah says. “Cats are gorgeous, wholesome creatures, and they deserve to be treated as such.”

“Sure, sure.” He waves her off. “You treat that cat better than you do me.”

“Well, you’re not covered in angelic fur and lay on my lap to cuddle, now do you?” She raises a thin eyebrow, and he scoffs.

“I can lay in your lap if that’s what you want.”

“No, thank you.”

“Well, c’mon woman, make up your mind!”

“My mind is made up! Now, come on, dear.” She tugs Y/n to her and begins walking toward the grey-blue Toyota Corolla that sits motionless in the parking lot, and the teenager follows, readjusting the bags hanging on her shoulder. 

“You want me to carry those for you?” Phil asks, and she glances over at him, her eyes widening, taken off-guard by the abrupt offer. But she collects her bearings rather quickly and shakes her head with a grateful smile.

“N-no thanks, Pops. I got it.”

“Whatcha got in those things? They look heavy.” 

“Um...clothes and stuff,” she replies quietly as they reach the 2007 vehicle, Nana shuffling into the passenger's seat and Pops opening the back door for her. She tosses her luggage to the opposite side and climbs in, smiling up at him to signal that she's done. He nods in acknowledgement and shuts the door, soon claiming the area behind the steering wheel and cranking the engine. The interior of the car smells like lavender, thanks to the cardboard air freshener swaying below the rear-view mirror, and the beige-toned leather lining the seats is torn in various places, no doubt because of how many years it has under its belt. 

"You got any'a that modern technology that kids use nowadays?"

The air conditioning blasts through the vents to cool the space as he puts the car in reverse to back out of the lot before shifting the gear, navigating between other automobiles, and driving onto the highway. Y/n clicks her buckle into place and twiddles her thumbs, jerking her shoulders up lightly, though she knows he won't be able to see it. "I—I mean, I have a cellphone, if that's what you're asking..."

"A cellphone, huh?" He eyes her in the mirror and she shrinks away meekly, unsure of how to react to the sincere attention. "We have one of those. Don't really know how to work it though."

"You sure do know your way around Solitaire for someone who doesn't know how a phone works." Nana's light jab makes him scoff playfully as he stares through the windshield observantly. 

"You know what, Little Miss Sassypants? Yeah, I do. That app is the only reason I ever even pick it up."

"And when you do, you're playing it for three hours straight."

"It's enjoyable!" Huffing, he shoots her a glare of faux annoyance. "Don't act like you ain't got things that you spend hours at a time doing."

"My hobbies are productive, as opposed to yours, so that excludes me from this discussion."

"That sounds like code for 'I know I'm losing so I'm gonna back out now before I'm called out on it'."

"False." She flattens out her skirt and narrows her eyes at him. "I don't speak in code, dear."

He laughs gruffly at that sentence, plainly not buying her words. "Keep thinkin' that, sweetheart." 

The frisky banter has Y/n failing to suppress a grin, having forgotten how well her grandparents get along, and why they've stayed married for almost sixty years. If only Mom and Dad had that kind of chemistry. Maybe then their home wouldn't be so void of love and life every waking moment. 

"So how was the trip, Y/n?" Nana twists around to the best of her ability to catch a glimpse of her granddaughter, seeming to completely brush the mini argument aside and spare Y/n her undivided recognition, eyes touching base with her own. 

"It was okay," she mumbles, voice just loud enough for them to understand her. "I'm ready to stop riding for a while, though."

"I'm sure. You traveled a long way. I'm glad you stayed safe."

Pops decides to contribute to the conversation. "How's your dad doin'?"

Her face scrunches up faintly as she racks her brain for a suitable answer that won't draw any concerned feedback. "Uh... He's busy. Him and Mom both."

"Figured that much. Probably why they're leaving the country in the first place, huh?"

Her gaze drops to her knees. "Yeah..." 

"Do they do that often?" Nana asks, her tone curious. "Take trips for their job?"

"That's like, forty percent of what they do..." She registers the car turning left sharply, onto a dirt road that leads into a capacious patch of forestry. They pass a faded blue and white sign, and the letters in bold printed across its surface reveals: Oneiric Lane, half a mile.

Wow, almost there already.

"But, um...it's usually not so far away," she continues her previous statement as they drive over gravel and rocks in their path, making the ride a little bumpy. "Not usually for such a long time, either."

"They still workin' for the same company?" Pops says. If Y/n were to listen extra closely, she'd be able to detect the tiniest hint of enmity masked within his voice. She blows a bubble into her cheek.

"Yeah, but it got sold to another corporate body a couple years ago and they changed a lot of things. So both of them have been on duty a lot more since then."

"I bet that's been stressful." 

"It's..." She could speak the truth, but the truth would dampen the mood, so she goes for a lighter alternative. "It's fine. They don't mind some extra work. Just means more money in the bank."

Pops mutters something under his breath, but Y/n can't decipher it. She can only assume it isn't anything particularly nice, based on the conversation that elicited it. 

Before she can dwell on it for too extensive of a period, a familiar, Victorian-style cottage becomes visible, and a ghost of a smile sweeps across her features as she perks up. Around the house lies a white picket fence, fringed with beautiful flowers of all different colors, their stems having grown tall and coiled themselves around each individual post, giving it an engagingly untamed appearance.

At the gate, about ten feet from the front door perches an intricate white arch made of wicker and intertwined with more vibrant plants, and the house itself is a muted shade of cyan, with an ornate wooden roof that sparkles like tiny crystals in the glittery stream of sun. The window frames are white, their shutters open to allow optical access inside of the home, and stained glass roses rim the transparent pane.

The whole architecture makes it look as if the words from a book of fairy tales crept out of its pages and sprung into existence, staying hidden between the trees until someone comes across it. It takes her breath away, and she stares in awe, waiting anxiously for Pops to guide the Toyota off the road so she can jump out and get re-acquainted with it all.

I forgot how incredible this place was... She unbuckles, practically leaning against the glass in building anticipation as the car comes to a stop in their driveway, a few feet from the gate and underneath a willow tree. She extends her hand hastily to grasp the door handle and swings it open, the early summer breeze caressing her skin as she hops out, the bottom of her shoes making contact with vivid green grass. She steals a big whiff of the unpolluted air, natural scents swirling through her nostrils as she drags her belongings out of the car and slings them over her shoulder once again.

Nana copies her movements and Pops isn't too far behind her. She gives her an encouraging pat on the back, then motions for her to trail after her as she moves toward the arched gateway, unlatching it to grant her entrance. "Wait till you see the dinner I'm whipping up, Y/n," Nana says as they walk along a neat path of polished stones and white marble. "You still like pineapple casserole, right?"

"Yes," Y/n says with no hesitation, the very image of the dish making her mouth water. Although she hadn't had the privilege of eating it in years, one thing she can remember clearly is how delicious it was—then again, everything Nana cooks is delicious, so maybe that point is moot. On either side of the orderly pathway are two rows of tulips, comprising pink, white, red, and violent, perfectly maintained. It astounds her how her grandparents can keep the garden so alluring while also making sure the house is in tip-top shape. They surely tidied up before she arrived, but they're also the kind of people who like a neat living space, so she doubts they had to do much. 

"I'm so happy to hear that!" She claps cheerfully as they reach the painted oak door, and both females make room for Pops as he conquers the porch stairs and wrenches the screen toward him, the creaking of its old and unoiled hinges evoking a sound similar to a screech. He rifles around in his pocket, pulls out the keys, and unlocks the entrance, holding it open as his wife and granddaughter stride through. 

Y/n examines the property in wonder. Along the floor lies a hand-knitted rug, shaped like a rectangle with additional ruffles at its edges. On her left is a vacant doorway to the living room, with a vintage floral-patterned sofa resting against the wall, and next to it, facing the front door are two chairs; one matching the couch and the other a darker, less feminine material. A frosted glass coffee table sits in front of them, and beneath it is a hickory plank floor.

Past the living area is a small dining room, with a wooden table and four chairs slid neatly on every side, and behind that is an antique China cabinet with double doors and several drawers, all of which are transparent and hold various cups, platters, and knick-knacks that have been collected over the years. Straight ahead is a linear staircase;  she remembers it leading up to the bedrooms and the second bathroom. To her right is a kitchen, with a white, ceramic-tiled floor, a long countertop that curls around the edges of the room; the refrigerator and the oven both fit snugly.

Hanging overhead is an oven light and cabinets with crystal knobs, and in the center is an island, with a vase of lemon yellow roses, a casserole dish, and a couple of pots.

The fragrance of honeysuckle crawls into her nose, as well as the smell of a currently-cooking turkey, mixing and creating a rainstorm of nostalgia. She almost cries from raw mirth. I really missed it here...

“Make yourself comfortable, dear,” Farrah chirps from behind her, giving her a few moments to get used to her new—but amicable—surroundings. “If you need me, I'll be finishing up dinner.” Y/n gives a soft hum in response, stepping farther inside and allowing herself to succumb to the wave of memories that bombard her.

Her eyes sweep over everything in reverence as she comes to a halt in front of the staircase, glimpsing back at her grandmother with a sheepish demeanor and parting her lips. “Um...am I staying in Aunt Darcy's old room? Or somewhere else?” A flash of realization shimmers in Farrah’s eyes before she steps forward and nods her head.

Farrah nods as Pops shuts the door, blocking the bright sunlight and capturing the area in a bit more darkness. “Yes, that's where you can sleep, store your things, anything. Of course, your dad's room is available too, but I didn't figure you'd want to stay somewhere with all those ugly band posters."

She breathes a quiet laugh. “Y-yeah, Aunt Darcy’s room will be fine." She spins on her heel and begins her small trek up the dozen or so stairs. The concept of being in her father’s childhood bedroom doesn’t sit right in her stomach. “Thank you, Nana.”

“Are you sure you don’t need any help with your bags?” she questions from below, her soft voice echoing upward and easily extending to Y/n’s ears. “They look awfully heavy.”

“No, it’s okay, I got ‘em,” she reassures, attaining the top step and taking a moment to pilot the somewhat narrow space before her. On the floor is a thin white rug that stretches the length of the hallway; to her immediate right is a small, polished table that supports a dainty-looking bouquet of petunias in a glass vase. On her left is a door that's been left ajar, divulging a bit of the interior and reminding her that this is indeed where she’s going.

She uses her free hand to push it open, lighting up when she wanders inside. The walls are a pristine, rosy pink, with a floor crafted out of ash wood planks that complements the design and hues nicely. On the opposite side of the room is a bed, made as a sort of cubbyhole into the wall and at a direct angle next to a window. Built into the wall are two bookshelves, both on either side of the bed and filled with colorful books of assorted sizes.

Beneath the mattress is a long drawer which she recalls to be a trundle bed. Attached to the ceiling above is a set of turquoise sheers, slid to either side of the sleeping niche, and loosely tied to the wall with some twine. In one corner, next to the other window, hangs a basket swing, with two pink pillows placed inside to cushion it. To her right is a closet, the door shut and a shoe organizer clinging to its top edge. Inside the pouches are several pairs of footwear, each separated and easily discernible.

A white, fluffy rug lays spread across the floor, underneath a clothes hamper, a small, cushioned bench, and a cotton bean bag chair. A chipped desk sits pressed against the wall, with several drawers inside and a stool of the same color pushed neatly beneath it. A reading lamp stands atop the surface, along with a couple of minuscule baskets to hold diverse writing tools; a notebook and binder stacked onto each other, a glass paperweight, and a mirror.

She releases an inaudible sigh, the corners of her lips quirking up into a content smile as she walks further inside, depositing her bags on the bed and doing a double-take of her temporary bedroom. A giddy sensation arises within her chest; one she hasn’t experienced in far too long. She turns her head and gazes through the open window, viewing the yard of green grass and colorful flowers below and admiring how the sun’s stunning yellow beams peer down through the towering trees.

She unzips her duffle bag and removes a pile of clothes from the main compartment, busying herself over the course of the next thirty minutes. The walk-in closet isn't huge but still larger than she remembered, meaning there's plenty of space to store all of her clothing pieces. She takes note of the fact that a vast majority of her aunt's stuff is no longer here, and she presumes Nana removed them to create space or Darcy herself came by and collected everything. Y/n hangs a good half of her items and keeps the rest folded, stuffing them into the shelf of drawers across from the door. She refrains from unpacking her art supplies and other accessories just yet, as it would feel weird and wrong to get so comfortable here after so little time. 

After throwing her—now empty—bag into the corner, her stomach rumbles and she concludes that the last thing she ate was a honey bun, and that was hours ago. Yearning to ease her mild sense of famine, she pivots, leaves the room, and descends the stairs, once again being swathed by the pleasant smell of food, only this time, it's much more intense.

Farrah sends Y/n an affectionate smile as she turns off the oven and waves her in. “Hi, sweetie. Are you settling in okay?” The teenager nods, letting the smell lure her, and steps inside.

“Yes, ma'am. I had forgotten how nice this house was.” The woman chuckles in response, grabbing one of the three plates on the counter and passing it to her. She takes it in her hands and shoots her a look of gratitude.

"It isn't as clean as I would like it to be, but oh well. I'm too old to dust away every little cobweb." She sighs in disbelief, eyes twinkling. "Maybe I should hire a maid."

"That might be a good idea. You don't wanna overdo yourself." Nana occupies herself with making a plate of food for her husband, listening to Y/n talk and humming along. "But, uh...while I'm here, I'd be happy to help you with anything you have to get done."

"How sweet of you to offer, N/n." She grins as she scoops a spoonful of mashed potatoes onto the dish. "I'll keep that in mind. Now, please—eat something. It's all ready."

"Thanks for this, Nana." She finds her way around the woman and gets a serving of everything—potatoes, turkey, rolls, pineapple casserole. The thought of indulging herself makes her want to melt. "It smells delicious." 

"Oh, you're so welcome, dear." She pours a glass of milk for Pops and offers a toothy smile. "I hardly ever get to cook for anyone besides your grandfather and myself. This is an honor."

Y/n feels compelled to hug her again, but ultimately resists the urge, not wishing to take a chance on spilling the food being held in both sets of hands. Tears threaten to rim her eyes, her grip tightening on the plate. Such displays of selflessness is a stranger to her, but she cherishes every second of it. "I love you, Nana."

She fails to see the way Farrah's heart swells at her words, her face contorting into one of deep adoration. "Oh, I love you too, Y/n—me and Phil both. So much. And we're so happy you wanted to come visit us."

After a short exchange of smiles, Nana departs and Y/n finishes gathering her meal, fetching a bottle of water from the fridge and heading into the dining room, noticing Pops already sitting at the table, silently awaiting his own share of food. She lowers herself into the chair opposite him, the steam from the hot meal floating up into her face and making her eager to taste it. 

“Hello, young lady,” he greets, and she meets his copper-brown eyes. “This house treatin' you okay?”

“Yes, sir,” she replies with a slight dip of her head.

“Is it cozy enough for ya? I know you’re used to all those fancy items and rich city life, so I’m sorry if it doesn’t meet your expectations.” Her eyes widen almost a comical amount and she stares at him as if he’d attempted to behead her. Taking a scoop of mashed potatoes with her spoon, she swiftly shakes her head before taking a bite.

“No, Pops, it does. The country’s amazing.” She brushes a strand of h/c hair behind her ear and swallows the flavorful vegetable. “City life isn’t that good. Honestly, I’d rather be here than in some hundred-thousand-dollar penthouse.” A large, satisfied smile takes residence on his wrinkled features and his eyes crinkle up before he laughs blissfully.

“You hear this, Farrah?” He regards the said woman as she enters the dining room, taking her rightful seat to the side of her spouse and passing his plate to him. “This girl hasn’t been tainted yet. We should keep her here, make sure she stays that way.”

A kind grin etches across her lips, though she dismisses him. “I don’t think her parents would approve of that, Phil.”

“No, they wouldn’t care,” Y/n murmurs in response, noticing the pitying looks being thrown her way, and she eats a forkful of casserole to fill the somewhat tense silence that’s fallen over the table. She keeps her eyes trained on the platter in front of her, suddenly finding it much more interesting.

“I’m sure that’s not true, sweetie.” Farrah’s voice is tender and reaffirming. Y/n only shrugs.

“They'd probably forget I was here at all, after a while. Too caught up in their own lives to really remember something like that.” Her tone drops within each word, embarrassment creeping up into her mind and flushing her cheeks a pale tone of b/c. Phil shakes his head disapprovingly while Farrah just watches her with sympathy.

“That’s shameful,” he starts, his voice flooded with disdain. “You're their daughter. How could they just forget about you?"

“I...I don't know. They just can, and have gotten pretty great at it, too.”

“When did all this start, sweetheart?” the old woman questions, sipping her drink.

“A few years ago, I guess...” It’s silent for several moments and Y/n wishes she wouldn’t have even interjected at all. Perhaps she just feels that she can tell them anything. Way to ruin the mood, genius.

“Hun, they’re not...abusing you, or anything, right?” The teenager can sense the reluctance in her words as if she’s afraid to hear the answer, and Y/n is quick to shoot her inquiry down.

“N-no, Nana, don’t worry. Nothing like that.” She releases an audible huff of air, relieved.

“Don't they spend time with you or anything?” Phil asks, leaning forward and facing her with agitation. She scours her brain for a coherent reply.

“Uh...no, not—not really.” She glances up briefly to meet his eyes, trying to shroud the hurt found in her own. “They hardly even talk to me. They don’t even talk to each other anymore. Dad’s always too busy and Mom is...” She swallows, probably a little too hard, and subconsciously taps her foot against the floor; a nervous habit she's taken to whenever her anxiety levels rise.

Her mind flashes with images of her mother sneaking out in the dead of the night. When asked about it, she'd snap at her, insist it was for 'business', and leave it at that. She remembers that one time she borrowed her phone to email her teacher, since hers had stopped working the previous day, and instead got notified of a message, received from a man with an unknown name. Initially, she believed it was a coworker or friend, but the contents of said 'message' involved raunchy flirting and, upon opening his contact, these advances were heavily reciprocated, and he wasn't the only one. It made her sick to her stomach. Sure, she was aware that Mom and Dad weren't exactly at a healthy place in their marriage, but she never thought one of them would actively cheat on the other. Those actions were guaranteed to ruin a family, yet her mother didn't seem to care in the least. 

Her foot makes a soft thump noise each time it collides with the floor, though her mind blocks it out as she tries to draw herself back into reality. “Uhh... Keeping secrets.” Phil and Farah share a glance.

“What kind of secrets, darlin’?” her grandfather asks, and her grip tightens on the fork in her hand. Does she really want to say this?

“I—I think, well, uhm... She’s cheating on Dad.” She doesn’t look up to see the startled expressions on their faces, afraid that they’ll judge her and her parents. “I mean, the way she's been acting, texting people all the time, sneaking out of the house, e-especially at night, and I’ve caught her before but she just got mad and said it was ‘business-related’.” She brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Plus, Mom and Dad haven’t gone on a date in forever. And I don’t know, it’s just...worrying.”

“Sweetie,” Farah starts, and Y/n internally winces at the strict tone that her voice adopted, “that kind of behavior is unacceptable.” She shakes her head in agreement, taking another bite of her food though finding that her appetite is steadily decreasing. “We need to talk to them about this.”

“No,” she interjects, finally meeting Farrah’s eyes with frightened e/c ones. “They can’t know I told you all of this. They—they’ll hate me.”

“If this is true, something needs to be done,” Phil says, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in distaste. “You don’t need to be in a house with two people that are so unstable. We could call them and you could stay with us.” Although the thought of living in a house with her loving grandparents sounds fantastic, she refuses by shaking her head again and speaking in a tremulous voice.

“N-no, it’s alright. I can deal with it.” Although her parents don’t seem to care about her anymore, she would most definitely shatter whatever remnants of a relationship they still have between the three of them if they were to find out what she told Farrah and Phil, and she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want her parents to despise her; that would be a horrid feeling. And she wants to avoid experiencing it.

The rest of the dinner goes by at a leisurely pace for the girl, with her grandparents attempting to talk about more lighthearted subjects to cheer her up, and it moderately works. They ask her about school, her friends, whether she’s in a relationship yet, to which she responds with valid answers: “It’s good”, “I don’t have friends”, and “No”. It makes itself more apparent to them with every reply she isn’t living a normal, decent life. But they figure it’d be best not to pry too much. After all, she’s here for a break, not to be harassed with questions and pity.

She stands with her plate and bottle of water in her hand after swallowing the final bite, pushes the chair back under the table with her foot, and walks past Farrah and toward the kitchen, feeling full and tired. Her gaze shifts to the window, perceiving the orange and pink mixture in the sky through the leaves of the trees, signifying that the sun is setting below the horizon and darkness will soon replace its blaze of light.

“Marshmallow is probably waiting outside if you wanna let him in for the night,” the woman hollers from the dining room as Y/n discards her dishes in the sink and rinses them off under warm water. Thinking about seeing the furry feline after such a long time causes her heart to skip in excitement, and she nods, knowing Farrah won’t bear witness to it.

“Okay, Nana.” She finishes washing the porcelain and silverware and props them in the plastic drainer resting on the counter-top before walking a little quicker than normal, unlocking the front door and nudging it open, being welcomed by a cooler evening gust of wind.

She glances around the small porch and can’t help but smile when she lays her eyes on the white and grey cat sitting on an old chair, swiping his paw over his face to clean himself. He peers up at her curiously, and she approaches at a gradual pace to avoid scaring him.

“Marshmallow? You remember me?” She sticks her hand out and lets him sniff her fingers before fondly rubbing his head. “It’s Y/n. I haven’t been back for a while.”

He stands and lets out a small meow, rubbing against her palm and enjoying the affection he’s receiving. She moves forward and wraps her arms around him, deeming it safe enough, and lifts him to bring him inside. He bumps his head against her neck and she can hear distinctive purring; a sound she hasn’t heard in years.

“Aww,” she coos, unable to stop herself from coddling the furry creature. “I missed you, too, little buddy.” She turns, walks back into the house, and shuts the door behind her, nearly colliding with Farrah as she goes into the kitchen, holding two plates and a glass with a few droplets of liquid remaining.

She takes notice of Y/n and grins at the sight. “Ah, see? We told you he’d remember you.” The girl scratches Marshmallow under his chin, eliciting another meow of content from his mouth. His tail swishes and bumps her on the arm, making her chuckle.

“Yeah. He’s just as soft as I remember, too. And cuddly.” As she says this, she hugs him closer to her chest, and Farrah smiles warmly as she places the plates in the sink. “Do you need help cleaning up?”

“No, thank you, hun.” She parts her lips to object, but Farrah shakes her head. “You just spend some time with the fur baby. Finish settling in.” Y/n feels Marshmallow struggle against her hold, so she crouches and loosens her grip, allowing him to jump down and sprint to some area on the first floor, presumably his food bowl.

“Are you sure? You know I don't mind.”

“I can’t believe you’re the spawn of my son,” she says, chuckling and wiping down the surface of a saucer. “It’ll be fine, sweetie. I’ve got it covered for now. You go and relax.” Y/n figures that as stubborn as she is, her grandmother is much more so and it won’t do her any good to argue about it. Emitting a sigh, she grabs her water bottle from where she laid it on the island in the center of the kitchen and hesitantly ambles toward the staircase.

“Okay...but, tell me if you need help?”

“Stop worrying. You’re the guest here.” Without another word, she heads up to her temporary bedroom, unaware that she’s being followed by a certain feline, and sets her bottle on the desk before grabbing her backpack to move it off her bed. As she twists around to walk to the desk, she stumbles over Marshmallow, who's rubbing against her leg, and just barely catches her balance before falling on the poor cat.

It takes a short moment to calm herself and get over the unexpected adrenaline rush that swamps her system, but once she does, she scoffs. “Trying to trip me already?” She reaches down and scratches his head, and he momentarily stands on his hind feet as a response. “Silly cat.”

Marshmallow finds a bed on the cozy-looking beanbag as she finds a place for her bag and goes to sleep rather swiftly, his body curled in around itself as his shoulders gently rise and fall with each breath he takes. She strokes his cheek tenderly with her index finger, admiring the ivory and light grey fur that graces his small frame. She can barely remember the last time she pet an animal of any kind because it was so long ago, and many grim things have happened since then.

Sitting on the bed, her eyes drift out the window, where the sun has almost completely vanished and a full, bright moon now replaces it, dozens of stars beginning to litter the sky, all surrounding the miraculous white orb. I never get a view like this from the city.

She can’t help her entrancement of the scenery and feels a trace of disappointment that she hasn’t seen more of it. All because of her selfish parents. She leans her head against the windowpane and surveys it, blended emotions making her feel conflicted. But she assures herself that it will be fine. She will be fine. Everything will work out in the end.

Yeah. There's nothing to worry about.

[piltoverfinest]

Something Wyllach this way comes... After seeing just how many Wyllach enjoyers are out there, I felt encouraged to maybe share a snippet of the fanfic I am currently working on. It will take a while until I am ready to post anything to AO3, since I am still fully occupied with another story at the moment and I want to finish that one first. But that hasn't kept me from writing a few scenes for said Wyllach fic, because let's be for real: they have me in a chokehold.

I have talked a little about the premise of the story here. This scene is set after Gortash has sold Karlach off to Zariel and Wyll is eye to eye with a dragon threatening to attack Baldur's Gate. The only way out? Make a deal with the devil Mizora, who wants him to be become her obedient pet warlock... and a few of his memories.

He's holding her close, one hand on the small of her waist, the other on her shoulder. She blinks down at him, uncertainty twinkling in her eyes but she lets him guide her regardless. Follows his lead almost effortlessly, like they've been sharing this dance a thousand times before. A laugh rings through the air, hearty and loud, when he spins her around. His hand is there, waiting to catch her. 

The edges of his memory fade, turning paler as it goes on before it dissolves into blank darkness. 

“No,” he gasps. “Not her. You can have everyone but her. Please.”

Sharing his first bottle of ale, she teases him as he coughs at the bitter taste. When he splutters, ale coming out of his nose, he hears the sweetest sound he has ever heard when Karlach giggles. He promised himself he would spit ale every night from now on if only he could hear that sound again.

He tries to hold on as the memory flows from his grasp, fluttering through his fingertips like sand. His eyes grow wide. He can't forget her. She is all he has left. Between one breath and the other, there is nothing left of the moment.

A sob breaks from him and his face twists in desperation. His fingernails curl into his skin, as if he's trying to twist them into his fleeting memories to keep hold on them. A flash of stinging pain runs through him as he draws blood. 

“Not her.”

He runs from the guards, tears stinging his eyes. Eleven years old, he is tired of being obedient and brave. He wants to play like the children he can watch from his window. He longs to swim in the ocean, to catch a fish with bare hands. 

“Psst,” a voice calls to him and glowing eyes stare at him from a crack in a wall. “I know the best hiding place.” He follows the tiefling girl through the crack in the wall, into the sewers. She hands him a half-eaten pastry, grinning proudly. “Stole it right from under their noses. Lazy roaches.” He smiles back and takes it from her.

“Oh, poor little pet. You never had a chance to save her,” the devil purrs, hooking her sharp fingernail under his chin to make him look at her. “You should know: We already have her. And she's been begging for you to come and save her.”

His breath hitches, throat closing up as he realizes the predicament he got himself into. Karlach. His fiery, lovely, fiercely loyal Karlach, in the clasps of a devil. Hoping for him to fulfil his promise.

Karlach.

Her name slips from his mind, her face only a shadow left to guess upon. She's waiting for him. She will think he left her behind. She will think he gave up on her. 

He fights against Mizora's invisible grasp, trying to close his mind off, to get off her hook. 

Karlach.

She purses her lips. “Ta ta ta, you signed a contract. In blood. Don't you dare be disobedient now, pet.”

The smell of sulfur fills his sense as she steps closer, her sharp nails dragging down his cheek.

He lost.

There is nothing he can do, not when his signature is on her parchment. His own blood signed the deal, settling both their fates. If only he knew. If only he had been more persistent with Gortash. Maybe he could've found her in time. Maybe…

Fuck Gortash. That man should be burning in the hells, not…not…her. What's her name? That young woman he sees. Golden eyes glowing like a beacon of light in the dark.

Karlach. 

A flower tucked behind his ear by gentle, carmine fingertips. A fleeting blush turning crimson into scarlet. Her smile lighting sparks in his chest. Her eyes, warm and bright like flames, taking his heart like an inferno. His lips searching for hers in all his dreams.

Another blink as edges tear and flare. His heart clenches in despair, his lips forming her name one last time and…

Nothing.

He takes a deep breath, blinking. Looking up at Mizora, he watches as her thin lips curl into a winning smile. 

“What happened?” he asks, confusion laced into his words.

“The deed is done, pet,” she purrs. “The dragon has wandered back into its lair. The threat is gone.” Another grin curls on the edge of her mouth. “For now.” 

He looks around him. There's no evidence of the battles he saw, no claw marks to prove his sighting of the red dragon. His mind hums with a lingering feeling he can't place. Something is missing. Something feels…wrong. Empty. Dark. 

“What memory did you take from me?” he asks curiously. 

Mizora lets out a laugh that pierces right through his heart, sending shivers up and down his spine. “Oh darling, it wouldn't be any fun to tell you now, would it?”

[rei-ismyname]

Magneto abducted by aliens

The X-Men detect the most powerful being they've ever seen on their wack proto Cerebro. They assume it's a mutant and rush to recruit them before Magneto can, naturally. It's this weirdo - The Stranger - and he stumbled into Magneto's base purely by coincidence.

Well, not entirely by coincidence. Mags used Magnets??? to both detect and draw the stranger to him and his Brotherhood with an offer of membership.

The Stranger is like 'why the fuck would I want to do that?' Mags and Mastermind start flexing their powers while Toad has the time of his life. He gives The Stranger the old 'take over the world' spiel and while he's incredibly confused, he decides 'fuck this shit.'

With a blast of nebulous power he instantly frees himself and turns Mastermind to rock. Or something. The Stranger really doesn't like illusions, it seems. Toad loses his shit - honestly he's really not very useful as a lackey - he's more of a hyperactive Greek chorus and Magneto cheerleader. Now that I mention it that sounds pretty cool.

The blast really fucks shit up, breaking buildings and alerting the X-Men to their location. Angel is first on the scene, getting into a dust-up with Quicksilver. Warren is about to lose when Iceman tells Pietro to freeze. More mutants enter the fracas but The Stranger doesn't give a shit. He watches for a little but is bored.

Magneto protects himself and the Stranger from harm, but The Stranger doesn't need it. In fact, he's leaving. Y'all mutants are boring. Mags is allowed to join him in his CONE OF ENERGY and he does with Toad behind him. Scott and Jean arrive a little too late, witnessing Beast fighting some ceiling.

Cyclops obliterates the ceiling, fuck yeah, saving his grateful comrade from mild peril. Jean sees Wanda and it's fucking on. Well, Jean was really keen to fight her but Wanda is only interested in Pietro's safety. He's been frozen for a while now and that shit is bad for you.

Cyclops uses his optic blasts to defrost him, or maybe to perform very fine surgery. Both I guess. He disintegrates the frost and Pietro is free. The twins decide they've had enough of Magneto and his war, choosing to bail. They're not interested in the X-Men's nonsense either.

Although... Jean thinks Wanda might have the hots for Scott, and Wanda is more interested in justice here. Alas, Pietro is in charge and says no. Wanda yields to returning home in 'Central Europe' but her parting words suggest they're not completely against fighting for a cause. Mutant infighting though? Fuck that. Can't say I blame them.

The Stranger materialises with Mags and Toad, but he barely listens to anything they say. Only when Magneto tries to pull rank does he fully engage him. He's not a mutant at all, and Magneto's first thought when he starts growing in size is of Giant Man.

Lol, Toad bails despite Magneto's protests and Mags isn't shook. The Stranger has listened to enough of their nonsense and encases them in cocoons. Fair enough. Far away, Chuck takes a quick look at Mastermind and decides the future of the universe is at stake. If you say so.

The X-Men find the cocoons really easily and quickly. They look so cute all bundled up like that. Somehow Chuck knows everything, including the dangerous properties the cocoons possess. Toad is not having a good time.

Of course, The Stranger reappears right then to kinda explain himself. He turns into a giant statue thingy while letting the X-Men know he's an alien that likes mutants. He's taking Mags and Toad to fuck knows where. With that, he straight up bounces into space saying 'we shall never return.' Okay, bye Magneto! See you never. Weird shit. I guess Mastermind is dead? Oh well. They were really phoning it in here, though it does have long-standing consequences. The Brotherhood is done, the twins bailed to (Central) Europe, Mastermind eventually showed up with the Hellfire Club, and the X-Men learnt nothing while winning easily.

[jooeeydee]

Oliver Queen loved Sara Lance more than all the other women in his life and we were shown that from the pilot on, here is why:

Sara was the first woman we knew Oliver was involved with, the first woman we ever saw him with.

Immature, irresponsible, selfish, "I detest swimming" playboy Ollie was willing to jump right back into the freezing waters of the North China Sea in the middle of a storm to go look for Sara. His father had to literally hold him back, to keep him from throwing himself back into the water to go look for her.

He talked about Laurel on the island but not Sara. Never Sara. And we know Oliver doesn't like to share his feelings and talk about his emotions. If something's too painful he doesn't talk about it.

Sara was the very first person he was willing to die and kill for. And I'm talking about make the choice and kill someone in cold blood.

He told Laurel he thinks about her every day.

He got up and prematurely ended the lie detector test he insisted on taking after bringing up Sara. He completely shut down.

He kept his promise to her and lied to her family which had them hate him, while the truth might have helped mend those relationships some. Even while thinking she was dead, after she came back home and even after her second death. He still insists that "Sara had her own secrets and those weren't his to tell."

He killed Ivo so she didn't have to, so she wouldn't change like he had after killing someone. This was the first time Oliver killed and it wasn't in self-defense or affect because someone he cared about was in imminent danger. There was no need for him to kill Ivo, yet he did. Simply to preserve the person Sara was. It was her promise, a choice he had let her make, yet, he fullfilled that promise in her stead to spare her the pain of knowing what it felt like to take someone's life, after he had fought her when she told him he had to kill Ivo before he could talk to Slade. Oliver was vehemently against killing someone in cold blood until it was to keep Sara from doing it. If that isn't love. I don't know what is.

They spent months on Lian Yu together were they had to get to know each other again and rebuild their trust after Sara betrayed him but Oliver still saved and protected her, even with Shado and Slade's interjections.

While I do not believe that Oliver choose Sara over Shado, Ivo made the choice for him, he'd seen how protective Oliver had been of both women and concluded Oliver would get between whichever one he was pointing the gun at and the gun. Ivo decided that Sara would live. That was the one time he didn't chose Sara. But he chose her over Laurel when begging her to come on the Gambit with him, a trip that took about three weeks per way. He chose her over Laurel when she came back home. He chose her on Lian Yu when risking everything for her several times and doing what he could to protect her and keep her safe. Whenever there was a choice and Sara was one of the options he chose Sara.

Sara was the first woman Oliver was willing to open up and fully commit to. He let her know he was scared because of Slade and didn't know what to do. He bared himself to her and showed her his weakness. Something Oliver struggled doing all throughout the show. Oliver asked Sara to move in with him, which was very telling especially because that had been a point of major dissent between him and Laurel and one of the main reasons he joined his father on the Gambit to begin with.

After Sara died he told Felicity "if I grieve, no one else gets to." Which means he would completely fall apart and most likely do what he had done after Tommy's death. Run and spend months in seclussion.

He saw Sara as a part of his family. And just because there are people claiming they didn't spend time with each other besides the island; if Oliver and Laurel had known each other forever, so did Oliver and Sara. No one can tell me party boy Oliver didn't hang with party girl Sara. They've known each other forever, had similar interests and character, they'd for sure gone out partying together before the Gambit. Their affair had to have started somehow and it wasn't on the Gambit, Oliver made that clear while talking to Helena "I started sleeping with Sara, I started sleeping with my girlfriend's sister".

Oliver put a tracker on Sara because "I couldn't lose you again".

The moment Sara stepped back into his life, she was all he cared about. And he did whatever he could to keep her in his life.

Bringing Sara up was a sure way to get an emotional response from him.

He always dropped everything if she was in danger. Be it on the freighter, Lian Yu getting kidnapped by Slade, because of the League, soulless, lost in time with the Legends, abducted by aliens, nearly killed by a Nazi Supergirl... if Sara was in danger, Oliver would push through his own pain in order to get to her.

Sara always managed to get him out of his own head and push him on a better path, she always believed in him. As was shown in Star City 2046. Sara reached him when no one else could.

They didn't need words to communicate. One look was enough.

They had fun with each other.

Sara never put him down or held his past against him. She didn't use emotional blackmail to have him fall in line. She didn't expect him to just get over his trauma.

She was "his" Sara.

Her death pushed him over the edge and down a path of self-destruction. The look over utter and complete devastation on his face when he saw her dead body and the fact that he went into shock and spent the entire episode desperately trying to not fall apart.

Sara showed back up in Starling, and Oliver distanced himself from Felicity. Plus, the smile of pure joy on his face when she implied that she might be around more again.

Even Slade understood what Sara meant to him, he'd seen first hand how far Oliver had been willing to go for her. "... someone who means everything to you..."

While both Oliver and Sara felt guilt about the way they ended up on the Gambit together, neither regrets that choice.

Sara was with him both times he died.

He respected her choice to leave.

And most importantly it is a fact that Oliver loved Sara, because he said so himself: "a woman that I loved was shot full of arrows and sent tumbling off a roofop." Oliver loved Sara, it's a fact that we know because Oliver told us so. It boogles my mind how so many people claim he never actually loved her. Not sure what their definition of love is.

Sara Lance was the love of Oliver's life. Outside circumstances always got in their way. The main issue they had was timing, nothing else. Their feelings were strong and stayed that way throughout both shows.

And last of all, there would be no Green Arrow without Sara. Sara put Oliver on the path of becoming the man he turned out to be, just like Oliver put Sara on the path of becoming the woman she turned out to be. They were soulmates and their lives were intristically bound together.

Their lives paralled each others and in the end they both died. They had the tragic star crossed love story. They suffered so much just to die young in very unfair ways. Had they stuck together they'd probably still be alive.

And yes, Sara is dead. She was killed and a clone alien hypride is not Sara. It's an imposter mascarading as her. Oliver and Sara are probably hanging out with Tommy and Laurel, enjoying afterlife together. (I refuse to acknowledge the stupid "everyone but Laurel is alive again" plot they shoved down out throats)

Sara was the one that got away. It was always her choice to leave. He always wanted her to stay.