#he scared me so much I spent the entire day remembering those moments

[anintroverteddarling]

Might be too busy to upload the video I mentioned so Imma yeet some doodles I made at school ... ... ... I can't believe this is what I do when bored:

These are very cursed Eddie doodles because why not?

[mxtxfanatic]

A-Yuan and His A-Die

Though not the biological child of Wei Wuxian, Wen Yuan very quickly adapts to the presence of this new caregiver in his life. And this makes total sense since the small child spent every day of his time in the Burial Mounds playing with Wei Wuxian:

On Burial Mound, heading fifty-or-so of the Wen Sect’s cultivators, Wei WuXian planted vegetables, repaired houses, refined corpses, and made new tools. Every day when he was free, he played with the toddler Wen Yuan, son of Wen Qing’s cousin. He either let him hang on trees or buried him in the ground, fooling him that he’d grow faster if he was watered and bathed in sunlight. ... With how long Wen Yuan had been on the mountain for, Wei WuXian felt that they couldn’t lock a child in such a place to play with mud all the time, and so one day, when he was shopping down the mountain, he took him along as well.

—Chapt. 74: Distance, exr

However, the affections go further than that. Wen Yuan internalizes Wei Wuxian as a father figure, so much so that when he gets lost in Yiling, his first instinct is to cry out for his "A-Die:"

Wen Yuan didn’t know what the people were talking about. When children were scared, they always called out to those they were close to. And so, sobbing, he called, “Dad! Dad...”

And we know that the "A-Die" in question is Wei Wuxian, because the moment Wen Yuan hears Wei Wuxian's voice in the crowd, he immediately goes to him.

Wei WuXian himself didn’t know why either, but he averted his gaze quickly. Hearing his voice, though, Wen Yuan got up at once. Dragging two long, flowing trails of tears behind him, he hung onto Wei Wuxian’s leg again.

Wei Wuxian even lightly teases the boy about this "new" address, as Wen Yuan only calls Wei Wuxian "Xian-gege" to his face:

Wei WuXian really had to be ridiculous. He could have fun just by teasing a child, putting the butterfly on his own head, “I’m not gonna. You even called him dad. What do you call me? You’ve only called me brother, an entire generation shorter than him!” Wen Yuan jumped, “I didn’t call him dad!”

—Chapt. 75: Distance, exr

But despite the tragically short time the two had together, these memories are so dear and formative to Wen Yuan that the mere sight of Chenqing is able to restore Lan Sizhui's memories years later:

Lan SiZhui puffed up his chest and drew in a deep breath. He began, “Claimed he had top-notch cooking skills, yet made dishes that were pungent both to the eye and to the stomach.” Wei WuXian, “Huh???” Lan SiZhui added, “Buried me in a field of carrots, saying I would grow taller quickly with water and sunlight, and maybe a few more children would sprout and play with me.” Wei WuXian, “...” Lan SiZhui continued, “Promised to treat HanGuang-Jun to a meal but ran off before paying, leaving HanGuang-Jun to pay again.” Wei WuXian widened his eyes. He almost couldn’t steady himself on the donkey’s back. He stammered, “You... You...” Lan SiZhui’s eyes were glued to Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi, “Maybe because I was too young, I cannot remember most of the things from back then. But, I am sure that... my surname used to be Wen.”

...

With another thought, [Wei Wuxian] asked, “Speaking of it, How did you remember, SiZhui?” Lan SiZhui, “I do not understand either. Something just felt really familiar when I saw Chenqing.” As expected, it was Chenqing. Wei WuXian, “Oh, of course it’d feel familiar. You loved eating Chenqing back then. You always drooled on it and made it so that I couldn’t play it.”

—Chapt. 111: Wangxian, exr

Truly the father-son pair we deserve.

[lowkeychenle]

chapter 13.5: maroon (M)

masterlist ← chapter 13: ?????? REPENT SINNER → chapter 14: like the old days🤪🤩

Description: After Chenle "accidentally" hits the follow button on Twitter, you try to get him to unfollow you by any means necessary, even if he's keen on staying right where he's at.

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader

Genre: smut *MDNI*; bonus part that is literally just the smut implied from the last part lol

Word Count: 2,457

Content Warnings: there's no real heavy content warnings in here; angsty relationship stuff leads into oral (f receiving), slight dirty talk, sex (obvi) but like...that's pretty much it I think? use of the pet name baby?? lol

Note: HIGHLY suggest listening to Maroon by Taylor Swift while reading this for the full experience!!!! This is not edited at all I literally wrote it in two hours cut me some slack okayyy

Taglist: @poemzcheng @kpophosblog @i6renj @xuimhao @fullsunstrawberry @simpforarmihn @kpophosblog @iscocohere @222brainrot @daegale @leefullsun @annoyingbitch83 @chezziy @multifandomania @fairyjunnie @odxrilove @ckline35 @llepia @hamji-hae @haechanielove @sunflowerbebe07 @mwahaechz @buns-inhiding @samsemsame @artstaeh @thisisnotjacinta @minkyuncutie @lovelypitasworld taglist is open! comment to be added :)

Sending that text was the riskiest thing you’d ever done. You paced for the entire minute it took for him to respond, unknown emotions swirling around your chest. You’re not entirely sure how you got to this point, but all you know is he’s on his way to you.

It doesn’t take him long to get to you at all. Even with city traffic, his hotel is only fifteen minutes from your house. With your heart racing, the random shit thrown haphazardly around doesn’t even process in your mind.

And then he’s in your doorway, watching you with those eyes you fell so hard for in the first place. The dim lighting reflects like stars in his sparkling gaze, his own fear clearly plastered on his face as he stands right in front of you.

For a brief moment, you hesitate. Everything you’ve ever wanted is staring you down, but the past comes crashing back.

Looking at him now, you wonder where everything truly went wrong—where things started to go wrong. His lips—the ones you used to call home—are parted as he closes the door and locks it behind him. It feels so permanent, so real, you’re not sure what move to make. You fight against the tears wanting to form. Today has been unnaturally long, and since the two of you went in opposite directions at the end of your coffee catch-up, all you wanted was to run back to him.

He’s everything. He always has been.

But none of it matters.

Your memories come back in waves, starting with the way he twirled you around the very floors the two of you are standing on. His laugh sinking into your skin as he buries his head in your neck, holding you tightly as if he was scared to lose you.

He did. He lost you.

His sly comments that would send a deep blush to your cheeks, the first night you spent with him where he accidentally spilled red wine on you, which ultimately led to him helping you remove it.

You used to put your legs over his lap when he’d sit on your couch, and he’d pull you closer by your ankles until you were on top of him.

He’d kiss you so gently, hands ghosting all over every inch of your body. Toward the end, every touch was urgent, like it was the last time he’d ever have the chance.

Until one time, it was. He touched you for the last time.

You trusted him.

God, you trusted him and everything fell apart. He was so fucking stubborn, never wanting to let you have the last word. It was more important than finding a solution. You constantly lost sight of the why—why you were doing this, why you loved him, why you fell for him in the first place.

But now he’s here. He’s here and you want him so fucking bad.

There were so many good things about your relationship, and when you see his face and the vulnerable gleam in his eyes, you remember all of them. But there were bad times too—too many for comfort, one too many arguments for you to understand.

Chenle takes a daring step closer to you, and even with him a few feet away from you, his presence is overwhelming. You pant already, the air too thick to comfortably fill your lungs. How the fuck are you supposed to do this? There’s so much going on in the world around you, but all you can think about is your need for him.

He clenches his fists like he’s refraining from reaching out to you. Glimmers of hope cross his features—his jawline you traced along for the last time much too long ago, his soft lips you found solace in every time you lost yourself in him. Over and over again you allowed yourself to fade, and it terrified you.

A lump forms in your throat when you realize this is where you and Chenle stand. Once, you were able to throw yourself into his arms without hesitation, and now you’re scared to touch him.

How could this be your legacy?

How could it truly be over?

Being burned once by the love of your life will haunt you forever, especially if that person comes in the form of Zhong Chenle. He proudly takes up space in your home, in your heart, and you don’t have any say about it.

Everything brewing inside you becomes too much, and all you crave is the peace he used to provide you when things were calm. When he touched you, nothing existed. It was just you and him, and not a damn thing mattered other than that.

You curse under your breath, practically leaping forward to wrap your arms around him. Your fingers tangle in his hair, and the next thing you know, those soft, full lips are on yours. Despite the simple touch, the electricity from his hands pressing you closer by the small of your back and his mouth has a moan slipping from you.

His breath hitches, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he clenches his fist around the fabric of your shirt, almost like he doesn’t believe this is real.

Every last worry dissipates, and finally, you feel at home. You said New York was your place, where you belong, but maybe you were wrong. He’s your home. He’s everything you’ve ever needed, and admitting that scares you more than you’d care to admit.

He grips the back of your neck, the warmth sending chills down your spine. His kiss is frantic while his hand on your back trails down to grab your ass. You haven’t been touched in over a year—not that anyone would make you feel like he does anyway. Your gasp allows him to slide his tongue in your mouth, but you don’t even fight for dominance. You let him have it.

“Jump,” he tells you, panting harder than he was before.

You listen to him and wrap your legs around his waist. As his arms wrap around you, he pauses, scanning over your face. The words you know he’s craving to say die on his lips, but you taste them imbued with his kiss when he reconnects with you.

You love him. You still fucking love him, and he loves you.

You’ve never met someone who vibes with you as well as he does. He knows what you’re thinking before you do, and he knows your body like it’s his own.

Silently, you plead with him to continue, and all he does is nod.

He takes you into your room and kicks the door closed behind him. Setting you on the edge of your bed, he kisses you hard. So desperately, as if he’s trying to prove something to you.

You break away from him to pull your shirt over your head, quickly lifting the bottom hem of his. He mimics your action, and then his head dips down to the swell of your breasts. You throw your head back, pushing him closer to you and sighing as he sucks and bites to leave his mark on you.

You were so sure you’d be with him forever. So sure that he was it for you—but one thing is absolute, and that’s the way no one could ever compare to him in your life. He took everything to new levels—when things were good, they were good. When they were bad, they were seismic.

The bad times never outweighed the good, but eventually, you’d had enough.

You tell yourself you’re only doing this because you’re lonely, because you miss his touch more than you could ever miss him, but you’re lying.

Somehow, you want it all again, even if it meant things were exactly the same.

You need him so badly, your body shudders with every brush of his fingertips. Reaching forward, you tug at the hem of his sweatpants.

“God, I fucking missed you, baby,” he groans, hooking his fingers in your shorts. You lift your hips, and he uses the opportunity to rip them off of you.

“Me too,” you breathe out. “Me too, Chenle, don’t stop.”

Chenle inhales sharply, unclasping your bra and pulling it off before he guides your back down on the bed. He leaves a wet trail of open-mouthed kisses down your neck to your chest, tracing over the marks blossoming on your breasts. You whine and arch into him, desperate for any touch he’s willing to give you.

His lips wrap around your nipple, and your attempt to press your thighs together is interrupted by his body. Your eyes roll back, and you run your fingers through his hair to encourage him. His tongue swirls around your bud, a string of his saliva following as he moves to the other.

You’re a fucking wreck, clinging onto your ex-boyfriend as he does everything you like. After a year, you started to think you’d exaggerated how good the sex was. Now that he’s on top of you again, you know full well you’ve never given him enough credit, let alone too much.

His fingers light fires on your skin, every inch of you much too sensitive for your own good.

“Tell me,” he mutters, kissing down your stomach until he reaches the edge of your panties. “Tell me what you want.”

“Chenle.” You let your head fall back on the mattress.

“Tell me you want me.”

“I need you.” Your brain is hazy already, and you want to push his head between your thighs to relieve the ache. He’s the only one who can.

He yanks the last piece of fabric away from your body, and you jolt when he wastes no time taking your clit in his mouth. Your moans fill the room as you grind up, an overwhelming need for him sinking into your veins. His tongue flicks back and forth while his fingers slide inside you easily with how your arousal drips down onto the mattress.

Incoherent words slip past your lips, you tug on his hair so hard he’s moaning against you, and you repeat his name like a prayer. He reaches your spot effortlessly, and everything around you blurs. You tighten around him, your whispers of pleasure turning to cries as he brings you to your high. It wracks your body, making you shake beneath him.

“Fuck me,” you gasp, pulling him upward. “Lele please, I need you right now.”

His mouth slams on yours, and your moans are swallowed. You scoot back to give him space to climb over you, and before he does, he pushes his sweats and boxers down. Wrapping your fingers around his cock, you jerk him slowly in pace with his kiss. He’s just as sensitive as you, fucking your fist with a needy sigh.

“Are you sure?” he asks breathlessly, his forehead on yours.

You nod. “Please.”

He doesn’t tease you anymore. Lining his tip up with your entrance, he gulps before pressing into you. A whimper leaves his mouth as he bottoms out inside you, his head falling against your neck as he grips your hip tightly. Chills roll down your spine at the sound, and you close your eyes and run your fingers through his hair, unable to breathe.

It’s been so fucking long since he’s filled you like this, and you spread your legs further apart in an attempt to get him deeper.

“‘M sorry,” he whispers. “Just need a second, baby.”

You nod, relishing in being so close to him again. Pleasure clouds your head, leaving you a blissful state of peace, like nothing could ever go wrong for you two.

“You feel so good,” he hums. “Never wanna be without this.”

“Me too.” You lift your hips to encourage him.

He moves his head to look at you, to watch your face as he slowly pulls out of you to push in at the same pace. Heat swarms your body, the firm press of his chest against yours making every neuron fire at once. With anyone else, you’d shy away from eye contact during such an intimate moment. With Chenle, with the love of your life, you meet his gaze and, despite pleasure weighing heavily on your eyelids, you refuse to look away.

His lips barely brush yours as he sets a steady, slow pace. Your toes curl and moans pour from you, but you want to be closer. His cock drags against your walls, depleting each of your worries one by one.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last long,” he groans, eyebrows furrowing as he pants. “You feel so fucking good, baby, it’s been so fucking long.”

He reaches down and rubs your clit, cursing again. His thrusts pick up speed, and as his rhythm falls apart, you know he’s close. He feels so heavenly inside you—between the sensitivity you still feel from your first orgasm and the pleasure of the stimulation on your throbbing bud and his length stretching you to your limits, you’re seconds away from finishing, too.

“Cum inside me,” you beg him, digging your nails into his shoulders. “Please, Lele.”

His hips jerk, and the tip of his cock slams into your spot. You’re catapulted into your orgasm, back arching as you practically scream for him. His eyes roll back as he spills deep inside you. Panting, he collapses on top of you, kissing along your collarbone.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, resting on your chest.

Your heart pounds so hard, you know he hears it. You gently drag your nails up and down his back, helping him calm down from his high. After a minute of him pressed against you, he leans up to kiss you, his mouth gentle and slow.

It scares you. It twists your insides and sends a pang of terror through you.

This isn’t a I-just-hooked-up-with-my-ex kiss.

It’s one you experience when you’re in love. One that could never be mistaken for something else.

This’ll turn into a slippery slope, you know that, but you don’t dare ruin the moment now. As his lips work on yours, you disappear into a simpler time—one where he was yours, and you were his.

After a few moments, he stops, pulling himself out of you before going into your bathroom for a towel. Nothing has changed since the last time he was here, so he’s got your house memorized down to where you keep the extra dog food you bought when he used to bring Daegal with him.

Tears well in your eyes, and once he cleans you up and climbs back into your bed, you bury yourself in his chest. You needed this. You need him.

What are the chances it works out the second time?

[writeforfandoms]

Waking Lions 13

Find the series masterlist

In which things get worse. Price may or may not help.

Warnings: swearing, panic attack, Ace is bristly, we learn more about Ace's past.

Word count: 2.3k

Eventual John Price x f!reader

“You’re late.”

You grimaced at Captain, sinking down across from him. “Flight was delayed on the runway, hardly anything I could control.” You leaned back in your seat. You knew you didn’t look great - you hadn’t been able to sleep since you’d been grabbed. Again.

“What’s going on?” He leaned forward, hands folded in front of him.

You waved him off. “Work.” You had already decided not to tell him about whoever had grabbed you. You didn’t need to give him an excuse to haul you back to whatever base and hold you there again. Besides, you had no intel to give. You didn’t know who those people were, and you were a bit inclined to not investigate. They’d already found you once, they could do it again.

And that scared you.

His eyes narrowed at you before sweeping over you again. “Ace–”

“Not your business, remember?” Your voice lacked bite, and you blinked wearily. “Here. Password is defiant.” You slid the USB across the table before tucking your hands away again so he couldn’t see the tremble in your fingers.

“Ace.” He frowned at you. “When did you last sleep?”

You scoffed. “Don’t pull that concerned act on me,” you growled. “I’m not one of your people.”

“Act? Is that what you think this is?” His eyes glittered dangerously, hands balling into fists.

“What else would it be?” you snapped back. “I’m not your responsibility, Captain, don’t pretend otherwise.”

He leaned back, breathing slowly. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, soft but no less intense. “You are my responsibility when you’re working for me. You’re one of mine, now.”

“Good fucking luck.” You stood, fully intending to leave right then and there.

And found your wrist caught.

“If your other work is interfering–”

“Don’t worry, Captain, I’m giving your project all due attention.” You pulled your wrist free and walked away, shoulders high and tight.

Italy should be lovely this time of year. Maybe it was time to go scout a hideaway there.

You only made it as far as the airport before Laswell called.

“I thought you were playing nice.”

“Yeah, well, he’s pulling shit.” You couldn’t keep the bite out of your voice, and you stepped off to one side, doing your best to merge into a wall.

“What kind of shit?” Laswell, on the other hand, kept her voice even and cool.

“Just… It doesn’t matter. I’m getting the information.” You pulled your laptop bag up higher on your shoulder. “Look, I need to go.”

Laswell said your name softly, calmly. You flinched, full-bodied. “Calm down. I know you’re not used to working with a team, but that’s how it is with this op. For your safety as well.”

“I don’t need a minder, Laswell.” You pulled in a deep breath. “I’m getting on a plane. I’ll contact you when I have more info.” You hung up on her and then turned off your phone.

In for a penny, and all that.

Italy was beautiful, but you couldn’t shake the odd mood. Something just felt wrong. Your temper was frayed, too short, paranoia too hot. You felt like you were going to crawl out of your skin.

You spent the entire first day in your hotel room wishing you could distract yourself.

The ringing of your phone woke you on the second day. You woke bleary and confused, jetlagged. But you still answered.

“Yeah?”

“Marigold.” Valeria sounded unusually serious.

“Valeria.” You sat up, blinking rapidly. “What can I do for you?”

“This time, it is what I can do for you.” She was silent for a moment before she switched to Spanish. “I am only telling you this because I like you and you have done good work for me for years.”

Your heart sank to your gut. “I understand. What is it?”

“Some of my current business associates have heard of you. There is a man who was asking after you, but he was too curious. He wanted to know too much about you. I told him nothing, but I cannot guarantee others did you the same courtesy.”

You swallowed hard against the sudden galloping of your heart. “Who was he? What’s his name?”

“I don’t know his name. He introduced himself as Gray.”

The world turned into static. You couldn’t hear. Could barely see. You weren’t sure what you said to Valeria, but you must have said something.

Your phone fell to your lap from nerveless fingers.

Gray was trying to find you again. Gray knew you were alive.

You needed to go.

You booked the first flight you could catch back to the US, checked out of the hotel, and fled. You closed down everything associated with the alias Valeria knew - bank accounts, rental spaces, emails, everything. You spent the flight writing down a list of everything you needed to do - there were two more aliases you needed to retire, and you needed to transfer funds to a secure location. All of which took time, which you didn’t have.

Your phone rang once you were out of the plane. You ignored it, busy renting a car under one of your least-used aliases. Your phone rang again. You ignored it again.

It wasn’t until you were in the car that you bothered to check. Laswell, both times.

You’d get back to her later.

Captain called while you were driving, and you ignored that too. In fact, you ignored everything until you got to your hideaway.

Then you hunkered down to erase as much of yourself as you could from those three aliases. You’d lose access to a not insignificant portion of your funds, at least temporarily, but you didn’t care.

You needed to burn as much as you could, start over. Maybe retire this time. Take your name out of the game entirely.

You were down to two aliases now, neither of which you used often. They counted as your oh shit backup plan, so you couldn’t burn them.

Not yet.

Your phone rang twice more. Laswell again. Too bad. This was more urgent. You ignored your phone. You’d need to change numbers anyway.

You were in the middle of burying those names, taking them off as many records as you could, leaving as little trace as you could, when someone hammered on your door.

You froze, tense and afraid, feeling distinctly cornered. Laswell was the only one who knew about this place. But that wasn’t her - she wouldn’t knock like that.

The hammering came again, more determined. “Ace!”

Captain. He was… here? You felt slow, lagging, as you got to your feet. Your extremities tingled with pins and needles - how long had you been crouched over the laptop, erasing yourself from existence?

“Ace, answer the damn door!” Captain banged on the door again.

You weren’t really aware of crossing the space, but you were aware of opening the door, looking up at Captain, his hat a little askew, jacket doing little to hide the bulk of his shoulders. He herded you back two steps so he could step into your apartment and close the door, locking it.

“You are going to explain to me what the fuck is going on,” he growled, voice low, eyes narrowed.

And you? You were wound just tight enough that you felt like fighting. You had no idea how long it had been since you got back to this apartment. Had no idea when you last ate or slept. But it didn’t matter because you weren’t done.

“It’s none of your business, Captain.” You glared at him, hands balled tight. “You shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t even know about this place.”

“Laswell called,” he said, advancing one step on you. You took a step back, trying to maintain distance. “Said you went dark without notice.”

“I’m out.” The words scraped past your vocal chords, raw and rough.

Captain advanced another step, and again you retreated. “So you’re just dropping off, is that it? Without a word?”

“I was going to alert you when I changed numbers.” You tipped your chin up, backing away another step. “And fuck you both, I don’t need a fucking minder.”

“Something’s got you scared,” he murmured, voice dropping even lower, sending a shiver down your spine. “So scared you’re running.”

“Told you, I’m out.” You stumbled on your next step back, slapping away his hand as soon as he extended it. “Don’t touch me!”

His eyes narrowed and he took two quick steps forward, sending you scrambling back until your back hit the wall. “Don’t lie to me, Ace.”

“What does it matter?” You finally shouted, losing grip on your temper. “It doesn’t! It never does!”

“Tell me.” He stayed exactly two steps away, hands folded in front of him now.

You shook your head hard. “Get out. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“You don’t need more ammunition against me.”

“Is that what you think?” His voice softened, just a little, and he took a half-step forward. Stalking you slowly now, watching for weakness. “Like you think my concern is an act?”

“It is.” You swallowed hard, edging to one side slowly. Your heart tripped over itself, beating so hard you were afraid it would simply give up.

“It’s not.” Captain moved with you, blocking your exit. Blocking most of the world so he was all you could focus on. “You’re a member of my team now, and I look after my own.”

You swallowed hard. “Save it for your boys.”

“I’ve got enough.” He edged forward again, maybe one step separating you now. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

“You don’t want to help me anyway.” You lifted your upper lip in a pathetic attempt to warn him off.

“Don’t often get told my own mind, love.” His hands settled out at his sides, loose and confident.

“Stop. Stop that.” Your breathing hitched at the pet name.

“Stop what?”

“All of it.” You swallowed again, gaze darting around for some other way out, any other way. “I have things I need to do.”

“Things like going to ground? Hiding?” He nodded once when your gaze jerked back to him, eyes wide. “Kate mentioned you never used this place. I guessed why.”

You clenched your hands rhythmically, the pain of your nails digging into your own skin grounding. “Then you should let me work.”

“Or you could let me help.” He leaned forward, gaze intent on you. “Tell me what’s got you runnin’, love.”

You swallowed. Your gaze darted around but mostly all you could see without moving was Captain. The sight of him in your safehouse, your hidden space, was… not even jarring. Sure you were surprised that he was here, but it… didn’t feel wrong.

He was already too deep.

You tipped your head back in silent surrender, the back of your head thunking gently into the wall. The popcorn ceiling annoyed you, as it always did. But you’d never gotten around to getting it fixed. “I got a call.” Your voice came out thin, weak. Soft. All the things you hated about yourself, the things you hid away. “Someone from my past found out I’m still around, and he’s sniffing around. Asking questions.” You huffed once, almost a bitter laugh. “Probably wants to finish what he started.”

Captain moved slowly, letting you hear as he moved forward, his boots shuffling over the low carpet. One big hand cupped your jaw, so warm he nearly burned, and your lips parted in a gasp. Slowly, gently, he tipped your head back down, thumb gentle over the thrum of your pulse. Blue eyes were focused solely on you, so intense it almost hurt to hold his gaze.

“He’ll have to get through me, first,” he rasped. Low. Vicious. A promise.

Heat flared in you, and you swallowed. His pupils expanded, black threatening to swallow blue, his hand tightening just barely against your jaw and throat. Your tongue flicked out to wet your lips, and his gaze dropped to follow the motion. He swallowed, shifting forward, warmth growing and spilling between the two of you.

Your phone rang.

Captain made a face, eyes still dark, but stepped back. His hand fell from your skin, leaving you cool. “That’ll be Laswell,” he grunted.

You swallowed hard, feeling something slip away from you, something warm and tempting. But you ducked around Captain, refusing to pursue it. Not right now. Instead, you scooped up your phone. “Yeah?”

“Is Price there?”

“Yeah.” You didn’t turn to look at him, instead looking back at your laptop.

“Good. Tell him we’ll meet at the RV point in an hour.” She hung up without any further words.

You grimaced, closing your eyes briefly and tucking your phone away. You still had so much to do, and you wouldn’t be able to focus with Captain around.

Not after whatever had almost happened.

“She wants to meet at the RV point in an hour,” you rasped, not quite brave enough to look back. “I just need ten minutes to finish this up and pack up.”

Captain was silent for long enough that you chanced a glance back at him. His eyes were still dark, but he left the bit of distance between you. The way he looked at you… You felt a bit like you were being hunted. Stalked.

It… wasn’t actually a terrible feeling.

“Copy,” he grunted, turning away finally and lifting a hand to his jacket and, you realized with a jolt, the radio under it. “We’ll be out in ten minutes.”

You swallowed and looked back at your laptop. One thing at a time.

You’d deal with Captain later.

[silvamyman]

𝗣-P𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗖𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗻 !

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀 !: A day off from Blue Lock, finally determined to make peace between all the boys, forget the misunderstandings, a new one is born, With youthful hormones

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 !: Blue lock x FemY/N ¡!

Warning!: Harassment, Minors, Hormonal children, Stalkers, desecration, wet dreams, Milf

Please do not translate my work, do not upload it to any platform, Consult me ​​to give you authorization for my work, I would appreciate it if you would show me the talent you have after reading my stories ! 🫶

Finally, after so much effort, all the boys who participated in the Blue lock project had their well-deserved rest, after so many tears, sweat and frustration, They were definitely making the most of those vacations now. And what could be better than making peace?

Isagi was the one who had the idea, to bring all the boys together, leave the rivalries, envy and meaningless senses of superiority, recognize the abilities of each one and unite them with the others, Everyone accepted, some went reluctantly (Like barou)

To improve the moment, Reo decided to contribute to Isagi's good cause, he invited them to spend a day at his house, it was impolite to reject his offer after having made peace. Why not?

This is how all the boys ventured to the reo's house, making small talks about any topic, remembering embarrassing moments, comical moments, various emotions that they felt as soon as they knew each other

As soon as they arrived, they realized the rich neighborhood in which reo lived with his family, living the life of any boy, Reo gave them a small tour of his house, just the basics, kitchen, bathroom, and his room, where they would be most of the day

Everyone took some kind of seat, getting comfortable, they spent some time like that, making jokes, games, Taking small snacks and drinks

Everything was laughter, except for Nagi, his gaze lost in the window, looking at the house from the side

"—Reo! Reo!"

Nagi's scream full of happiness alarmed the others, everyone stayed in their places while reo got up from his bed, to see what was happening, He looked out the window, barely knowing what was happening, he took his binoculars to see better*

"—is something wrong guys?"

Isagi asked with a small confused tone as if scared by the attitude of both friends

Everyone approached the window, burying themselves and fixing their gaze on the neighbor's room

They were surprised to see a curvy figure, a woman so beautiful, so delicate, her skin looks so soft.

She was so beautiful in every aspect, breaking the Japanese stereotype, the standards they had of a woman, were tiny to what she was

"—And... What are we seeing?"

Bachira commented, without understanding much, seeing a woman behind one of his windows, he didn't see why, at that moment Otoya placed a finger on his lips letting him know that he would shut up

"—Don't worry, we'll explain later"

He spoke reo, while he adjusted his binoculars to better appreciate the moment, His childhood love until now, who disturbs his dreams with such elegance, who treated him like a little child, His beloved neighbor

Reo remembers his neighbor from childhood, his beloved neighbor always came on important holidays, doing a singing performance

A talented woman, doing small performances in dressing rooms, Their work was mysterious to the entire neighborhood, they only knew very little about acting

"—Just enjoy the view, we'll talk in a moment"

Nagi spoke without taking his eyes off the window, as enthusiastic as a dog waiting for a treat, all the boys looked at each other, they decided to listen to Nagi

Everyone turned their gaze to the window again

As soon as I turned around, that long-awaited and mysterious show began

The girl was behind them, not knowing that some hormonal children were watching her through her uncovered window

The sensual and charming neighbor began to take off her heels, leaving them in their usual place, She took her stockings in her hands showing her meaty and juicy butt as soon as she bent down to take her stockings off the floor

All the boys immediately blushed at the sight, everyone was stunned, Some swallowed in surprise as an emotion, they never expected those attitudes of nagi and reo

They never took their gaze off the backside of such a beautiful neighbor, her dress tight to her flesh, She left her stockings on the edge of the bed, at that moment she began to lift her dress from the butt up, showing her panties to the boys while she passed her dress over her head, Throwing it on the edge of your bed

The boys could barely contain a scream, they stayed frozen in place, no matter how much they tried to look away, they always returned to the same point

The beautiful and distracted neighbor continued with her show, She pushed her hair aside, showing her bra, she untied it in the back, letting it fall to the floor, she grabbed the edges of her panties, letting them fall to the floor

I take his clothes, underwear as well as upper, leaving them in his dirty clothes basket, She returned her body to her closet, revealing her breasts and butt, Her beautiful face so fragile and soft, so innocent

He took his bath towel, a towel for his hair and another for his body, placed them between his hips while he closed his closet

He headed to his bathroom, he never noticed the lustful looks of brats as soon as they understood that his small cock didn't let go, it was to go to the bathroom

Her heard the bathroom shower turn on, at that moment his beautiful neighbor began to hum a little song

Definitely, they should go to the reo's house more often, to "talk among friends"

Hello hello! Thank you very much for continuing to support my content at all times!

part 2?

I have many ideas that would never be expected, if this blog is supported I will do the second part right away !

[muzicgenerator]

pls could u do a tom kaulitz angst? like he’s arguing w reader and mentions something he knows the reader doesn’t like bringing up, and he has to make it up to her, then it can turn into fluff <3

yep here it is!!

hope u like it and sorry for late reply T_T

(BRO OHHH MY GOD THE ORIGINAL STORYLINE DIDNT SAVE 😭😭😭 so i just made a new one which is this one AGHHH SO MAD RN btw i didnt proof read the entire thing)

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Atonement

✮

Pairing: Tom Kaulitz x Reader

Genre: a bit Angsty, Fluff

Warnings: None

Request Status: closed :(

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Last Night on Earth : Green Day

Playful bantering was one of the things you and Tom would do everyday in your relationship.

Sure, serious arguments would rise up which a simple kiss and genuine apology would quickly fix.

However those two won't do it right now.

"The hell do you mean I have trust issues?!"

"What?! It's true! Your ex cheated on you so you're scared to trust me; It's not like I'm gonna do what that guy did!"

Definitely, Tom shouldn't have brought your ex up who has no relation to this quarrel.

He knew how much of a prick he was to you and how he treated you; he even witnessed how devastated you were when you once came to him to seek comfort when you found out for the second time he had been cheating.

And he knew damn well you never wanna hear about the jerk ever again.

However, you did appreciate him admitting he wouldn't repeat the history you had with your past lover.

"The fuck, Tom? That bitch has no connection whatsoever about what we're fighting about right now.

And I saw the way you looked at her! It's like, if I didn't interrupt you both would've shared spits by then." enraged by what he said; you raised your voice to match his volume - which was unlike you since you're the composed one out of you two during serious arguments.

"Sorry but he kinda does! This issue you're having surely started with him. I remember the way you wasted your snot and tears on him and I dried it off.

And please stop being overdramatic, she's just a fan and I wanted to make sure she's happy. Not only with her; I mean with everyone of them!"

Tom tried hard to defend himself instead of admitting his wrongdoing.

"You are such an ass for bringing that shit up again when you know damn well your ass had issues too that I helped you get over with and all I've ever done was try my greatest to understand and care for you!

All I ever wanted was for you to stop looking at other people and look at me.. Am I asking for too much?" your voice whispered in offence and slightly croaked which made you resent yourself more.

Tom realized with wide eyes of what he had done,

"No, no of course not ____. No, look- I'm really sorry for what I said, I really am and-"

"Just shut the hell up, Tom. Save it, I don't wanna hear it right now." you harshly brushed past him to storm off to your apartment's bedroom in fear of hot tears falling down to your cheeks.

He sighed; ashamed in himself. Tom truly regrets letting those harsh and unnecessary words slip his blunt mouth. He knew he was better than this - definitely, he should control his mouth more and think about what he should say carefully during times like this.

The night spent alone in the bed you'd always share with Tom felt cruel.

Not for the reason he's not by your side; it's rather the fact that you're in bed without properly making up with him since you'd always forgive one another the same day.

A big part of you wanted to forgive him - believe that he truly didn't mean what he told you and only accidentally slipped because of the heat in the moment; that we all say things we don't mean when we're mad, and that he really wouldn't stab you on the back with a woman like your past lover did.

The smaller part of you scolded for being such an idiot; for believing a man would stay loyal - that you should call it off before he could do any further damage.

Honestly, you felt devastated just thinking about not being with him; so you eventually came into terms with yourself that the fire will settle down and you'll forgive him and he'll do better.

Don't know when it'll die down but it will. Hopefully soon.

Some relationships are worth fighting for, like you have with Tom.

Hence you will stay strong and prepare for many wars.

But tonight; you wanted and allowed yourself to fall asleep being upset and disappointed at Tom.

You'll let tomorrow do its thing.

✮✮✮

It was the next day and the back of your head was pounding alongside a stiff neck.

You sat up and glanced at the digital clock placed on your night table that read 11:37 AM.

After stretching your limbs out while reminiscing the night before; you decided it's time to wash your face and start making lunch for yourself.

When you turned the knob and pushed it open; you were greeted with the aroma of your favourite dish; one that was always served to you as a child when you still lived with your family - one that you shared its recipe and process with your lover.

"Tom?" you asked in disbelief. You were certain he had left since your ears picked up the sound of the front door being pushed open then close in the middle of the night.

Certainty assured your mind that you'd rather not see his face first thing in the morning after such a night. Boy, were you wrong.

Your lover turned his head quickly; unaware of your presence since he's so caught up finishing, as well as perfecting the dish.

"Oh- love, you're awake. I um.. made breakfast but you didn't get up and it's uh, it's almost time for lunch so I thought I'd make your favourite." he stumbled over his words; which is bizarre.

"The pancakes are on the table, you can eat them later as a snack."

You nodded your head with a tight lipped smile and mumbled a thanks before heading to the bathroom.

Once the door had shut; you quickly drowned your face with water to remove the image of Tom cooking without a shirt on.

It's not like it's the first time you've seen him like that; but the way you're reacting right now is how you feel when you catch him in these types of situations - preferably without the post-fight shit going.

After peeing, washing your hands, brushing your teeth washing and drying your face, and doing your skin care - you forced yourself to go back outside for you cannot stay in the bathroom forever.

When you opened and closed the baby blue painted door; your eyes wandered off to the table and drooled at the sight of the newly cooked meal.

Tom patted the seat beside him with a smile; gesturing you to sit beside him.

You had no choice but to join him for lunch; after all, you are starving.

Instead of giving in to his request, you sat in front of him.

Instead of painting a frown on his lips; he still kept his genuinely proud smile (from cooking such a delicious dish) and handed you your plate and utensils - to which you accepted.

"Let's eat?" Tom asked.

"I don't wanna eat without talking about last night." you said with a straight face.

The man in front of you softly breathed a sigh,

"You're right." he agreed with a nod

"I'll start by saying I'm really sorry, and I didn't mean what I said. I just want you to know I would never even dare to think about betraying you like that, and I was an ass for what I did." Tom seemed to look everywhere but your eyes.

He couldn't bring himself to look at your mesmerizing hues for he was certain his shredded heart would be turned into dust.

"I don't even know why I said those things, I- I know this sounds like bullshit but I swear I really don't mean those things and you're the only person who I have my eyes on.

Please give me another chance I- I'll be better now, promise!" he trailed off and fearfully continued;

"But y'know if uh.. if you don't and wanna call it o-"

"Shut up Tom we're not breaking up." you sighed

"I know you said those to defend what you did, and it slipped out because of the heat of the moment. We all say shit we don't mean when mad, I understand. But what I don't understand is why you'd caress her cheek and look into her eyes like that?" your eyes examined his facial expressions and only saw genuine regret on his face. You hoped he'd look at your eyes and tell you directly why.

Hence, before his ready mouth started to explain; you tell him, "Tom, look into my eyes, please."

You caught the way the ball of his throat bopped up and down; swallowing his saliva. His eyes slowly trailed up from the table to your chest, neck, chin, nose, then eyes.

"She said she'd been a fan since the very beginning of the band's debut. She loved all us a lot, especially me. I asked her if meeting us was a dream come true, she said yeah, and we talked a bit more. Then she asked me to touch her face because she really couldn't believe that it was all happening, which I did."

Tom would look away from the two windows of your soul for a second before meeting again.

He was replied with silence; which kind of scared him.

"____? Please say something."

"For God's sake Tom, why didn't you just start with that last night when I brought it up?"

Tom rapidly blinked once, twice, thrice, then for the fourth time. "... I must've forgot to bring it up because I was so caught up in the moment."

You laughed; a true one, "You mean too focused into bringing my ex up?"

He was speechless by how just a second ago you were dead ass serious, and now crying laughing at what you said.

"Sorry, I'm done laughing now." you giggled before continuing, "Fine, I'll forgive you if you tell me where you went last night."

"I went back to my apartment and did some thinking how to make it up to you and slept there. I went out really early to buy groceries so i can cook your favourite food here."

It was your turn to be speechless.

"...You seriously did that?" you asked with doubt in your voice.

"Yeah, I mean the proof is on the table." Tom chuckled.

You said nothing and finally dug into the 5 star looking meal, soon your lover did as well.

"Sooo, are we good?" Tom hopefully asked after sipping his water from the cylinder glass.

"I guess so." you blessed him with a small smile to which he returned with a big one.

Conversation flowed naturally between you as you ate the savoury food.

If Tom didn't make it as a famous guitarist, he'd definitely be a winner in Hell's Kitchen.

After Tom cleaned put the dishes to the sink; you insisted to wash it since he cooked. He declined numerous times but it wasn't going anywhere since you're more stubborn than him.

"All right, fine. Only if you let me hug you from behind." Tom made a deal.

"Pshh, why're you asking as if you don't do that whenever I do shit in the kitchen?"

Tom rolled his eyes with a smirk drawn on his lips as a reply and proceeded to snake his large hands to your waist; then pressing his chest to your back and resting his chin on the crown of your head.

Nothing could be heard other than the clanking of pans, plates, and utensils, along with the flow of the running water from the faucet.

The comfortable verbal silence and physical contact was very much needed after a fight.

After drying your hands with a cloth; you walked towards the couch and sat with your boyfriend still embracing you from behind.

"What do you wanna watch?" you turned your head to the side to look up at his face.

"Whatever you want, I'm fine with anything." Tom looked down to your eyes, then lips.

Slowly, he leaned his fave closer to yours so he could taste your lips.

Once contact had been made; you couldn't help but melt even more to his touch and wrap your arms around his neck - and he couldn't help but deepen the kiss and caress your waist and back.

Soon enough, the passionate kiss had come to an end to catch their breaths.

"I love you so much. You know that, right?" Tom stared into her hues as the tip of their noses touched.

You slowly nodded and brought your hands up to his hollow cheeks, "I love you more." you said before pulling his face closer to kiss each other's lips once again.

Tom mumbled in-between the kisses, "I love you the most, sweetheart." before deepening it. His tongue soon entered your mouth and both your hands rubbed and caressed your bodies.

The hot post-fight make out session would last as long as half the length of the movie you played in the middle of the session; playing Atonement for the millionth time from your entire life.

After pulling your mouths away due to your jaws hurting; you slept and cuddled like babies.

Feeling the safest in each other's arms.

[nuctoria]

listen listen listen

Luigi's harem (yes again), marriage proposal.

*Cracks knuckles* here we go! Daisy: Luigi can propose to her and do the traditional one-knee, will you marry me show but it's also very possible for Daisy to be the one to propose. Luigi wants to get married to her but is really hesitant because he wants her to be ready for marriage too and she's royal so it might become more complicated for him. Daisy ends up getting too impatient and it's very obvious he wants to marry her (even though he tried to hide it) so she takes matters into her own hands and plans it all. She asks Mario for some advice and help, Peach joining in to make it more romantic. I think they would have a fun day out, nothing out of the ordinary, maybe playing a sport or two, eat out at a restaurant they like to go to and just have an lovely date, only for her to pull out a ring and ask him to marry her. These two are people who, as much as they like adventure, also like the simple and sweet moments of life, so a calm proposal after a lovely date would work perfectly for them both.

Peasley: He would make it as grand as his love for Luigi, full of flowers, with the important people present to witness this amazing scene, and he rehearsed the entire thing for months, only stopping because his mother forced him too. He was very much nervous but was able to hide it with his usual charm, but grew more excited the closer the moment came and it was so much better than he could have hoped for. To see the shock and teary eyes of his love as he said yes to his proposal, was a memory he'd cherish till the end of his days. A party was held right after the proposal and the two spent the night with each other as fiancés.

Dreambert: I think Dreambert would end up blurting it out after months of having the urge to do it but being too nervous to actually say it. It'd be while they are stargazing, perhaps having an isolated night-time picnic in Somnom Woods, ready to fall asleep as they talk and he had no energy to feel nervous while being sleepy and full of love for the human he's cuddling with. He'll be filled with a calm joy at hearing Luigi say yes and they'd fall asleep together, ready to start the next day as fiancés instead of just boyfriends, starting a new chapter of their lives together.

Bowser: Bowser would do a proposal the way he does everything else, impulsively and chaotically, pulling out all schemes to get the best items needed for the proposal, especially the ring, he'll ensure it is a day to be remembered, which means the wedding will somehow be even more grand and unforgettable. Unless Luigi insists he holds back, no promises that it'll succeed.

King Boo: this dude has more than enough money to spare, and best believe he'll spend it on this special occasion. Not before some good scares and a game of cat and mouse, those are important now. If they are actually together and in an actually happy relationship, the those scares are simple fun, it's not as severe as before, but they both knew they'd miss it if they stopped all together. King Boo would hand pick the best emerald to ever exist and pay as much as needed to tailor the perfect ring for his love, deciding to do it the old-fashioned way of taking Luigi to a candle-lit dinner and proposing under the moonlight, the boos doing anything they possibly can to make it the best proposal known to man. But if we go in the bitter ex route where King Boo wants Luigi back, he'd use the proposal as a way of bargaining, Luigi's hand in marriage even after death for his friends and family's freedom. This again has two routes, one being that Luigi defeatedly accepts so this can all end for good and with his friends begging him to not do it for their sakes but the deal is done. The second route is that he refuses and the final battle ensues but this time, King Boo wins in a sense. Luigi does manage to get the others free and to safety but this time King Boo didn't focus too much on them and manages to capture Luigi, putting the ring on his finger and taking him away where his friends won't be able to follow, keeping him forever.

Antasma: Like Dreambert, it will mostly be in an isolated area and instead of planning it, he'll wait for the perfect moment to happen on its own and use it to propose. He wants to make sure both of them are ready, when they've settled down, are sure everything around them is calm and the mood is set just right for the proposal to be made. Which works perfectly, it's not planned, it's not unique, it's not particularly special, but it's right, it's right for them and it truly feels real to them. It feels like this moment is theirs alone, like the world created this moment just for them.

Dimentio: for him, he probably talked about marriage as they got more comfortable with each other and doesn't think proposals are that special until he started imagining it for himself and being called Luigi's fiancé which got him to feel warm and fuzzy inside, igniting the excitement of later calling Luigi his husband. He made sure the proposal was the definition of magic, making it grand and magical, even making a short speech before asking Luigi to marry him, making the poor plumber flustered at seeing all these beautiful show just for him and accept the proposal. This is for the wholesome route, I got a whole other story for the darker route.

Hope this is satisfactory!

[blakelysco-pilot]

those domestic prompts I’m OBSESSED bestie!!! 🥹😭 Could I request 6 for Ev & Val and 18 for Rosie & Jo?

Hi chickie! Thanks for sending these in; my babies love a good domestic moment.

Prompts from this list; as always, ask box is open.

6. “What did I do to make you fall in love with me?” — Ev & Val

He couldn’t remember a time that Valencia had been quite so quiet. Usually, his fiance was bursting with energy, eager to tackle the day (after a good cuddle) and always with something to say. Yet, she had spent the entire car ride home from dinner in silence. Her lips pressed together in a thin line, hands clasped tightly on her lap in the passenger seat. Her gaze was fixed on the road ahead of them, and she had barely flinched when he dropped his right hand to rest on her thigh.

He knew what had caused it; the overly confident banker who had strolled over to them as they sat at the bar for a nightcap, swagger that, if Ev could define it, made him look like an idiot over anything else. He had only had to say her name, and Everett could see her back straighten and hear the sharp intake of her breath. He hadn’t needed to ask any questions after that. This was the man that Curt Biddick nearly killed years ago. What Everett couldn’t figure out was why he felt the need to approach Valencia when the last time had almost cost him his life.

He knew she was upset, but he wasn’t prepared for such a visceral reaction to the man, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to get her to come back to herself. He had let her be as he drove them home, but when he pulled the car to a stop in front of their apartment, well, he knew he couldn’t leave her there all night.

“Val, we’re home….”

“Mhmm, okay…”

“Come on, let’s go inside baby,” he turned in his seat to face her, and he felt his chest crack open at the sight of her. She was silent, so much silence, that he didn’t even hear her tears. “Oh, Val.”

Gently, he moved to pull her into his arms, but was stopped by the sound of her voice. Shaky, and scared.

“What did I do to make you fall in love with me?” It was barely above a whisper as she asked him.

“Val…”

“Everett, please,” she cut him off sharply. “Answer me.”

“You’re you, and I love everything about you.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything,” her voice shook, tears running down her cheeks like two rivers. “What was the moment you knew?”

“The day that Baynard’s fort crashed in the trees,” he sighed. “When Ken was waiting for me on the hardstand, he told me you had come running like all the devils in hell were on your heels.”

“That was the moment?”

“And then night, when we were all sitting in the club together,” he slid across the bench seat to pull her closer, wrapping her up in his arms. “When you were in my lap, trading insults with Curt, I realized I wanted you like that, in my life, for the rest of it.”

“You wanted a mouthy, difficult woman?”

“Did I ever say you were mouthy? Or difficult?”

“…no.”

“I wanted to spend my life loving the strong, independent, smart woman, who had so much compassion that she signed up to sling coffee and donuts in cold, rainy England, for a bunch of crass pilots.”

She snorted then, dropping her head to his chest as a laugh escaped her, filling the car with his favorite sound.

“A woman who never volunteered to babysit a full grown husky and yet, would pick the dog hair off my A Class jacket every night before we went to the club.”

“Everett…”

“The same stunning, beautiful, lovely woman, who would snuggle into that jacket on a cool night, just so we could sit outside a bit longer. The loyal friend who wrote countless letters to the guys being held POW in Germany, and letters back home to the sweethearts of her friends.”

“That’s a lot of moments.”

“I could keep going,” he tipped her face up towards his, and leant forward to press his lips to hers. “You just tell me when to stop.”

“I love you,” she sighed. “I love you so much, and I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because I let someone who should have no bearing on me at all get under my skin, all over again.”

“He hurt you, the memory of him is not a pleasant one. And if I could take it away, I would.”

“I wish you could…”

“I know,” he pressed a kiss into her hair. “But let me try and fill your life with good things, this way it overshadows the bad thing, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Good. Now let’s get inside, and I’ll draw you a bath before bed.”

“Draw us a bath, okay?”

“Whatever you want,” he smiled. “It’s yours.”

“Just you. That’s all I want in life.”

“Already yours, baby. Already yours.”

18. “Do you remember the first night we spent together in this house?” — Rosie & Jo

Painstakingly, and with careful hands, Rosie and Jo Rosenthal had purchased, and renovated their first home. Not quite Brooklyn, but not quite Long Island either; close enough to their friends who had stayed in the city, and down the block from Harry and Jean Crosby. A quaint porch where Rosie would often find Jo sitting when the weather was nice, waiting for him to get home from work. Where Harry and Jean would stop on their nightly walk with their son, Rosie running inside to get a cola for Croz, or a coffee for Jean. A yard where their friends' children could run and play when they visited. Where their future children could play, or if Jo deemed him needing more practice, a dog first.

They had lived through countless months of tearing things down, just to build it back up again. An endless rainbow of paint colors on their once bare living room wall, until Jo had decided on the one she liked best. Weekends spent unloading boxes, and furniture with Croz and Ev Blakely, while Jo, Jean and Val put away dishes, pots and pans, and put sheets on beds. A visit from Pappy and the Riveters crew, their wedding gift to the couple was a promise to help Rosie paint the house, had found them all eating Chinese takeout on the living room floor, because there was no dining table yet.

The days spent building and creating their home had been the most fun, but now, well now Jo was between the fresh sheets of their new bed, waiting for Rosie to finish brushing his teeth in the bathroom and join her. The walls were freshly painted and the window was open to allow the cool fall breeze into the room, the curtains rustling every few moments. There was a fresh bouquet of peonies on her vanity, a gift from Rosie that morning, and their perfume scent filled the room perfectly. All that was missing was…

“Did you fall in?” Jo calls with a laugh, wondering what on earth could be taking her husband so long.

“Hmm?” Rosie's head comes around the doorframe, curls mused from a day of hard work- the final day of hard housework- and the toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

“Good lord, Robbie! You’re dripping toothpaste all over yourself!”

“Oh, sorry!” The words are mumbled as he ducks back into the bathroom to finish his nighttime routine.

She waits another minute, before the switch of the light goes out, and Rosie comes around to his side of the bed, sliding between the sheets with ease. The sigh that escapes him is nothing short of relieved as he sinks back into the pillows, and pulls her against his chest. They’d done it. The house was finished.

“Feels good…” he ducked his head down to look at her, his blue eyes catching her brown as she looked up.

“It should, this mattress was a pretty penny!” She laughed, hand coming up to rest on his chest.

“Not the mattress,” he shook his head. “Though it is really comfortable, I’m talking about the house.”

“I can’t believe it’s finally finished.”

“Do you remember the first night we spent in this house?”

“Oh goodness, what a mess,” Jo groaned, dropping her head back in exaggeration. “We slept on your old mattress from your mothers house, in the middle of the living room floor.”

“No gas, we couldn’t cook…”

“We barely had any furniture yet…”

“I wouldn’t trade it for the world, Mrs. Rosenthal.”

“Neither would I,” Jo grinned, leaning up to press her lips to his. “Though, I could have done without the roaches that were in that old refrigerator.”

Rosie shuddered, eyes squeezed shut as he remembered the vision of his wife opening the door of the ice box, screaming and slamming it shut with such force it rattled in place. Though some slightly less good memories had stuck, the good very much outweighed them.

“Happy first night in our finished home, honey pie,” Rosie grinned brightly, ducking down for a kiss. “I love you.”

“Happy first night my darling. I love you more.”

“Not possible…”

[the-peak-tmnt]

This is so like not my business but I am so very sorry about your dog, and losing a dog while away on a trip sounds so absolutely awful so I’m just popping in here to say that I do not know you but I’m so sure your dog knew you loved it and felt your presence 💖 that would tear me the fuck up so I just felt pressed to say I hope you don’t feel too guilty about it. Sending love!

I didn't answer this right away, but I read it as soon as you sent it and I really, really appreciate it because it was exactly what I needed to hear at the time.

I was really upset that I wasn't there when he died, but you're absolutely right that he had to have known he was so, so, so loved. He was being especially cute on the car ride to the pet hotel, so he got so many head pats and face smooshes and kisses as we drove there. I know some dogs don't do well at kennels, but he was super popular at our regular pet hotel and he was always excited to go. The staff even let him hang out up front with them because he was just so chill and friendly. As upset as I am that I wasn't there, my other dog was with him in the kennel so he wasn't alone, and he was in a place where he felt comfortable and was treated super well. It also happened quickly (sudden heart failure) so at least I know he didn't suffer or have time to be scared. I could write a novel on how much I loved this dog. I got him in my mid-20s, and he was my only constant as my life went through so many significant changes in the ensuing decade. And I could go on and on about all the things I loved about him, but one of the absolute best things about him was the way he made total strangers instantly light up.

He was a huge and wolfy looking dog, and his doggy DNA test said he was a Husky/Malamute/Shepherd mix. I spent his entire life having to explain to people that he wasn't a wolf hybrid lol. But because he so huge and so beautiful, we got stopped everywhere we went. We roadtripped all around the country and lived in a couple major cities throughout his life, and I swear I had to have talked hundreds of people because of him. One of my favorite memories was when we were camping in Yosemite years and years ago. A tour bus full of Chinese tourists rolled up, and we got absolutely swarmed. I studied abroad in China back in college. Until the recent explosion of the middle class, having dogs as pets in China wasn't super common. I didn't know a single person with a dog when I was in China, and I don't remember seeing any the whole time I was there. So I think for a lot of those tourists, this was their first time meeting a pet dog...and they were absolutely losing their minds. I had forgotten much of my Mandarin by that point, but I remembered just enough to tell them that he was friendly and they could pet him. I swear to god, we were stuck there for like 45 minutes until every last tourist got a photo with him. They asked it they could feed him, and was handing out dog treats for people to throw to him and holy shit, my dog may as well have been a rockstar in that moment. People were cheering and clapping and laughing each time he caught a treat. It was one of the most surreal experiences of my life. I loved every second of it because thanks to my dog, there was no language barrier. Smiles and laugher are universal.

Anyway, that's just a really long way of me saying that dogs are so special because just seeing or meeting a dog can make someone's whole day, and I was so incredibly lucky to have one who did this on the regular for so many people. I will always miss everything about him, but seeing the joy he gave other people by just being big, beautiful, gentle giant is one of the things I'll miss the most. Thank you so much for this message @saladmix, and everyone else who left such sweet comments when I posted about my dog passing.

[babiebom]

Between a Rock and a Hard Place(i)

A/N: literally the premise of this fic took over my daydream and I had to write it. Will not be as good as my daydream was because the dialogue my brain came up with made me cry and I cannot for the life of me remember it so this is second best<3

Tw: cursing, murder, kidnapping,physical abuse, pregnancy, mental abuse, verbal abuse, gore, blood, Stockholm syndrome, racism/slurs

Wc:1.8k

Next Masterlist

It’s easy to fall into traps when you can barely see in front of you. And it’s easy to see just how obvious those traps were when you look back. To Evangeline the bright red flags that were waving in her face had to be transparent with the way she stared at the man in front of her. She had always been the confident type, her beauty was something that couldn’t be questioned, and everyone around her knew it. So when men flirted or chatted her up, she reciprocated, always making it known that they had no chance of bedding her. She was flirty, yes, but not so loose that she would sleep around with just any guy that sent a poorly executed wink her way.

That is, until him. Johnny Slaughter was one of the most gorgeous men she had ever seen. The very sight of a man that women in the south dreamed of when they wanted to have a wet dream. His charm, and looks meant that her confidence stood no chance against him and what he wanted. And at that moment, what he wanted was her. The more he flirted with her, the more she could feel herself falling into his web, and for some reason no alarm bells went off in her head. Or maybe they did and she just mistook them for wedding bells.

She slept with him that very first day, let him get to know her in every meaning of the word. And he was sweet, those first couple of weeks. Took her out on dates, let her meet his weird family, told her that she was the one he wanted to be with for the rest of his life.

Until he convinced her to move in. Sweet words, golden promises, a cheap ring that made her fall deeper for the Texan man without any other thought. It didn’t take too much longer after that for Johnny to show his true colors.

Lashing out, throwing things. It scared her the first time he took a vase from the shelf and flung it into the wall across the room. Evangeline couldn’t help but scream at how quickly he moved. But he still didn’t touch her, not then. He apologized for his actions, said he just got upset and didn’t know what to do about it. She forgave him after he peppered her tear stained face with kisses, figuring that everyone had their quirks. She grew up with a dad that was similar; he punched holes in the walls and smashed things when angry. He never put his hands on her mother, and that’s what she clung on to every time that Johnny got upset, she prayed he would be like her father and kept his hands off her.

Her prayers went unanswered. One day the man grabbed her instead of an object that he could break, and he threw her into the wall. He screams and screams, standing over her with a red face and spit flying out of his mouth. She doesn’t even remember what she did to make him upset, so she screams back at him, cursing his name and making a scene that now looking back she wished she had that same personality that had been lost.

She left after that, packing up her stuff and moving into a crappy little apartment that she could afford on her own. It took Johnny three weeks to come and apologize, reeling her in with honey dipped words and promises that he spent the three weeks they spent apart working on himself. Again, ignoring the red flags, she believed him and allowed herself to reenter a relationship with him. It was as if they had restarted to the beginning of their relationship when everything was hidden behind rose colored glasses. Happy with her life, she fell deeper for the man that somehow proved that he could change even though an entire month hadn’t passed.

She ignored the people whispering their doubts in her ear, moving faster than she had in her relationship with him than she did before. They had already been together for a while, right? They didn’t need to slow down; they were obviously on the right track. He convinces her to move in together again, this time into his family’s home.

She hated living with the Sawyers, their weird diet and secrecy put her off from wanting to maintain an actual relationship with them. She begged Johnny to move out into their own place, or at least with his mother, but he refused. His mother had left somewhere and since she didn’t like Evangeline, and wasn't supportive of their relationship, the two were not allowed to live together in her house.

Soon, she found out exactly why he had hid his family from her before. A girl had burst into the room she shared with Johnny, bloody with a crazed look in her eyes. She grabbed Evangeline roughly, screaming and swinging at her, going on about her friends being murdered and it being the fault of this family or something. Evangeline couldn’t do anything but scream, taken by surprise and unable to fight against pure adrenaline.

She kicks the girl and screams, confused as Nubbins bursts into the room laughing loudly. “Found ‘er!” He yelled down to the family below. When Johnny comes in he rips the girl away from Evangeline, unlike Nubbins who was amused with what was happening. The girl is taken out of the room by Nubbins and Johnny as Evangeline lies there on the ground, bruised and scratched, bleeding from the cuts she received.

It took a week for her to ask, and still he didn’t answer totally, not until she wandered into the basement and found Bubba cutting up someone as if they were an animal he had slaughtered. She threw up loudly, causing Bubba to spin around and panic that she was in the room. Everything after this just got worse.

Johnny reverted back to being abusive now that he had nothing to hide. Didn’t slowly escalate like last time, just went straight into beating Evangeline. It was worse than before, choking her until she passed out, punching her until her eyes were puffy. All the while he laughed and taunted her, that she couldn’t break up with him now, he owned her now, they could never let her go because of what she’s seen. It’s either submit or die.

It’s months of this, a year of this. Of being beaten and taunted and manipulated. They didn’t allow her to leave, and because she willingly moved in with him no one would report her as missing. Her friends experienced her disappearing before, and so has her family, last time she was in a relationship with him.

Things start to look up when she starts throwing up, when she starts showing signs of pregnancy. It’s not surprising in the least to her, unable to access birth control and Johnny’s hatred of using condoms when plowing into her. She’s surprised that it took this long for her to get knocked up by him. And as her pregnancy progresses every time she looks at her face in the mirror she is disappointed at the person she sees.

It takes being beaten by him two more times while she’s carrying his child that she realizes that in the course of this relationship she has changed completely. Gone is the girl that could laugh freely, that was confident and unwavering. Johnny had stripped her of her personality and crushed her down into whoever he wanted her to be. So she starts planning, using the tiny bit of determination she had left, she needed to better herself if she’s going to be a parent. No one wants to raise their child in this type of environment.

Her plan goes into motion quicker than she expects with the return of Johnny’s mother. The woman at first is angry that he managed to get Evangeline pregnant, saying she doesn’t want a grandchild that is half negro because he decided to fuck some coon. Then as time passes the woman comes around to being happy that she was getting a grandchild and started being the monster-in-law from hell. Every day is spent with Nancy telling Evangeline just how happy she’s going to be when the baby is born and old enough for them to get rid of her. That Johnny will no longer need her after the baby is born because when her body changes the man will be disgusted with her and won’t want to stick his dick in her anymore. That they’ll easily get rid of her and her baby will be raised by Nancy herself, and there’s nothing Evangeline can do about it because Johnny will always side with his mother, and will cut out her tongue faster than she can disrespect Nancy in any way.

Luckily the whole stupid family trusts her to cook, and because Sissy hadn’t kept her gardening secrets an actual secret, Evangeline knows exactly how to knock out the entire house. It isn’t uncommon for her to refuse to eat, and since Nancy isn’t living in the Sawyer house she doesn’t have anyone looking over her shoulder, everyone believing that she was completely broken. When everyone falls asleep she takes off into the night, driving away in her car that had gone unused for a while.

She stops at her mothers house, crying that she was leaving and needed money to get away. Her mother helps, happy enough to help her get away from the guy the entire family had hated from the beginning. Letting her pack clothes, her documents and other things and letting her get away while the moon is still high in the sky.

This is how she finds herself now, on a train to Florida with no way to find her. As the train pulls away, she can feel herself shed so much tension that she feels almost weightless. As far as her eyes can see, no one around her recognizes her, and as far as she knows the only person that knows that she’s leaving is her mother, and to be careful she doesn’t even tell her mother where she’s going, having decided the second she got to the train station.

Roseville, Florida is similar to Texas with the heat. The familiar feel of the sun in the sky makes her feel better, though she hates the heat it’s what she’s used to and no one would think that she didn’t go across the country when in reality she just went a couple states over. The little house that she is renting is a little expensive, a couple of blocks away from a beach and a little diner, close to a bus stop and a grocery store. She feels herself growing in hope, the thought of a new life makes her want to scream out in joy.

Johnny didn’t care enough to find her, that’s what she knows for sure, and so I’m her mind there is nothing that can go wrong now. She’s safe, happy, and expecting a baby in six more months. Things are finally looking up.

[moodymelanist]

Are you just doing Elucien prompts? Because I had this idea for Nessian where canon Nesta craves physical affection from Cassian but doesn’t really know what to do with it when he is affectionate with her because she’s never had anyone touch her tenderly like he does

nope, I’m taking any and everyone as the mood strikes me! I hope you don't mind that this is a modern au; I really liked this idea but writing in canon isn't my preferred thing to do. tw for discussion of prior abuse (tomas + mama archeron can suck it).

Nesta knew Cassian had noticed the way she didn’t know what to do with herself whenever he wanted to touch her. He was just so giving with his affection, from the easy way he would sling an arm around her shoulders to the kisses he liked to press to her skin whenever he felt she needed one.

Part of her wanted to lean into those touches, to make things easy the way they seemed to be for him, but a much larger part of her didn't know how to trust hands that were reaching for her. She was so used to being hurt instead of being held that her body just didn't know what to do when it was presented with the second option.

"I'm sorry," Nesta said for what felt like the millionth time after it happened. She'd been washing their dishes from dinner when Cassian had come up from behind her to wrap his arms around her, sending her into a stiff panic before she forced herself to calm down. "Fuck, I'm sorry."

They'd been dating for long enough that Nesta hated it was even an issue. They spent endless time in each other's apartments, saw each other multiple times a week, had met each other's friends and chosen families. She knew Cassian would never hurt her, would never even want to, but it was hard to fight every instinct in her body telling her she was in danger when it had kept her alive for so long.

"You don't have anything to apologize for, sweetheart," Cassian replied. He slowly unwrapped his arms from around her so he wouldn't startle her further and took a few steps to the right. "I'm the one who should be apologizing."

"What?" she responded, completely flabbergasted. She turned off the water and turned to face him so they could have what was shaping up to be an important conversation without any distractions. "You're not the one who's fucked up."

"Nesta." He gave her a look that told her exactly what he thought of that statement. "What happened to you was fucked up. That doesn't mean you're fucked up."

"But I am fucked up."

"We're all a little bit fucked up. Doesn't mean I still don't owe you an apology."

"What do you think you owe me one for?" Nesta asked, a little resigned. Her boyfriend was even more stubborn than she was on the best of days, so sometimes it was easier to just give in rather than fight a ridiculous fight, especially for something they'd talked to death so many times before.

"I know you don't like me coming up to you like that, so I'm the one who owes you an apology," Cassian answered. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

"It's not that you scared me," she told him honestly. Having conversations like these made her insides crawl, but since they were already talking, she thought she might as well rip the entire band-aid off anyways. "I like it when you touch me, I just... need some more warning, is all."

"Okay," he easily agreed. "I'll try to remember that for the future. Okay?"

"Okay," she mumbled. She turned around and started messing with the dishes again just to give herself something to do, not sure where to go from here.

"Is it okay if I give you a hug now?" Cassian asked after a few moments passed.

"Yes," Nesta answered. She took a deep breath and let it go just as his arms slowly circled back around her, letting herself relax as much as she could into the warmth of his embrace. It was much better now that she knew it was coming, and she found herself able to enjoy the feeling of his warm body behind her instead of immediately going into fight-or-flight mode.

"Better?" he murmured, squeezing her gently.

"Better," she repeated.

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearloftheorients | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard

[literatemisfit]

Hi! I don’t have a subscription so I can’t read this full article you posted.

https://www.tumblr.com/literatemisfit/720928934490980352/david-tennant-on-his-wife-georgias-cancer-scare

Could you possibly give a summary or copy/paste what it says (if you’re comfortable with it)? Especially that last part you mentioned as being especially sweet?

Somehow when I went to open it I also got stuck behind a paywall so they must have added one. But I was able to use incognito mode and get access to it anyway. I've copy pasted the entire thing for you so you can see what I mean by sweet ;)

See below:

Georgia Tennant is recalling the moment, at the start of the pandemic, when she realised she was going to be locked down with her husband. ‘David was supposed to be filming in South Africa,’ explains the 38-year-old actor and producer. ‘But then there was a series of phone calls, South Africa shut down, and he turned to me and said: “I’m not going back”.’

Georgia and I share a look that speaks volumes: about the slo-mo dawning experienced by wives all over the world when it became clear they would be trapped with the man they’d promised to love and cherish – but not, crucially, have lunch with every day for weeks on end. About what became more like the premise of a twisted reality TV show when those weeks turned into months

‘I remember having this sudden realisation…’ Glancing at her Scottish stage and screen star husband, Georgia pauses, blue eyes wide, and at this point I’m already smiling because I think I know what’s coming. ‘That, oh my gosh, David’s just going to be here, the whole time.’ I nod compassionately. ‘Which obviously I’d never had before.’ Another nod. We’ve all been there. 

‘And just thinking: that’s really exciting!’

Oh… It’s a needle-across-vinyl moment and I stop mid-nod and stare. Georgia and I are not on the same page. In fact, she seems to be reading an entirely different book: this wife can’t think of anything nicer than being holed up with her husband of 12 years.

‘We just really like each other,’ she says once all three of us have stopped laughing. ‘Even now, we like hanging out with each other more than we like hanging out with anyone else.’ Some might say that’s a pretty good basis for a marriage. ‘Exactly. And when all the kids are around it’s like a commune here, which I love.’

With a semi-apologetic shrug the 52-year-old Doctor Who and Broadchurch star confirms, ‘It’s true.’ There’s no way around it: he too just really likes his wife. ‘In fact, the more time we spend together the more we get on,’ he says. And although I’m not sure I can deal with any more bombshell revelations so early on in an interview, this is probably just as well. Because the Tennants didn’t just end up marooned on the couch together for the duration of the pandemic – with their five children, Ty, 21, Olive, 12, Wilfred, 10, Doris, seven, and Birdie, three – but filming a lockdown TV comedy series, Staged, which became the surprise summer comedy hit of 2020.

The whimsical meta sitcom follows David’s fractious friendship with Welsh actor Michael Sheen as they plan various ill-fated ventures from either side of the world on Zoom. Only this isn’t reality TV, but a hammed-up version. Its two actors forever making a drama out of a crisis, as their partners watch, bemused, occasionally stepping in when things get out of hand.

Georgia and Swedish actress Anna Lundberg’s attitude is probably best described by the bumper sticker quote: ‘Behind every successful man is a woman rolling her eyes’, and audiences liked them so much that their roles get progressively bigger with each series.

Amazingly, Staged outlived the pandemic premise it was built on and I’m here today, in a sleek home office at the back of the couple’s west London home, to talk about the third and final series, which is currently airing on BBC One. Having spent the past 24 hours binge-watching six episodes of the show, I’m slightly thrown by how dialled-down the real David and Georgia are compared with their on-screen personas. He’s far less wild-haired and neurotic in real life – perhaps in part because after a trip to the dental hygienist this morning, he’s not yet been allowed his coffee – and she’s just as beautiful, with the same poise she maintains throughout Staged, but more amused than exasperated, today, by her man.

‘This wasn’t our first project together,’ David reminds me when I ask whether working on the show together over three years didn’t tip this perfect partnership over the edge. ‘After all, Georgia and I did meet on set.’

It’s true that it was while he was playing the Tenth Doctor in 2008 that he met his future wife, who was cast as his genetically engineered daughter in the BBC show. Does Georgia still get endless joy from that? ‘Oh, I’ve had 15 years of joy from that,’ she flings back. ‘Of course, I was already 900 years old at the time,’ David deadpans.

After the Doctor Who years, the pair went on to co-star in the 2017 film, You, Me and Him, which Georgia also produced. Still, when it came to filming Staged, he got ‘incredibly nervous’, he admits. ‘I think we were quite anxious about what that would… do, weren’t we?’

His wife murmurs her agreement, although like her Staged character she seems serene and in control and it’s easy to imagine her talking David down from various ledges in daily life. 

For all their harmony, they seem quite different. Certainly, they come from different backgrounds. As the daughter of actors Peter Davison and Sandra Dickinson, Georgia was born into the profession, making her debut at 15 in ITV’s Peak Practice, before going on to appear in shows such as Where the Heart Is, Like Father Like Son and The Last Detective.

Bathgate-born David, meanwhile, is the son of a Presbyterian church minister, who attended the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama and established himself with the Royal Shakespeare Company and National Theatre early on. After winning the game-changing role of Doctor Who at 34, he has continued to demonstrate his versatility as an actor, flitting from hard-hitting TV dramas like Des in 2020 (playing serial killer Dennis Nilsen) and Litvinenko in 2022 (as the former Russian spy) to playing a demon in Amazon’s ongoing fantasy series Good Omens. Then there’s his stage work: the recent West End play Good, in which he played a professor drawn into Nazism, and a forthcoming stint as Macbeth at London’s Donmar Warehouse in December.

Despite his success, the actor has suffered from acute anxiety ever since he was a boy, fretting about everything from ‘not being good enough’ and ‘being found out’ (as he told one interviewer in 2019) to the loss of anonymity he knew he’d experience back in 2005, when he was cast as a TV hero he’d idolised from the age of three. ‘Because with a show like Doctor Who,’ he tells me, ‘it’s on a different scale.’ 

As anyone who suffers from anxiety knows, the primary, all-consuming worry is that everything ‘probably will go wrong’ at any given moment. In 2018 something did go very wrong when Georgia was diagnosed with cervical cancer – something she shared in her blog, despite usually being a private person. ‘I thought it was easier than having to phone everyone and tell them,’ she explains today.

‘It was a very weird experience,’ muses David. ‘Because we found out the bad news after it had been dealt with, so we had the relief at the same time as the horror.’ 

Following an abnormal smear test result, Georgia had a biopsy and a cervical excision to remove the tissue causing concern. It was only after that procedure that test results showed the cells had been cancerous. David pauses, looking at his wife. ‘At least we were spared the prospect of living with, “You’ve got this, and can it be caught?” But I still have these flashbacks of “What if you hadn’t…?”’ He shakes his head. ‘I don’t think I acknowledged at the time how serious it could have been.’

The couple were too busy ‘just dealing with each stage’, David goes on. ‘The slightly funky test and then going in and having the biopsy.’ 

‘But I did make you answer the phone, when we were waiting to hear [the results],’ Georgia cuts in. ‘I obviously knew there was going to be something, so David got the news first: that it was bad but that they’d got rid of it. And then he made me get on the phone so that I could hear it from the doctor myself, because he knew that was something I needed to do.’

Afterwards, ‘both of us were just numb,’ David murmurs. ‘It was such a Sliding Doors moment. Even a few months later it could have been too late.’ 

‘Which is why now,’ Georgia concludes wryly, ‘I’ll tell everyone with a cervix: go and get yourself checked.’

With the couple’s eldest son Ty now a successful actor – having starred in the TV series War of the Worlds and HBO’s House of the Dragon – and Olive, then 10, making her big-screen debut in Kenneth Branagh’s Oscar-winning film Belfast, two years ago, I’m curious to know how they both feel about their brood following in their footsteps? ‘I just want them to be happy and to be able to survive in the world,’ Georgia says. ‘So if acting is what they want to do…’

It helps that the industry feels fairer now in almost every way, they believe, and we segue into a discussion about inclusivity and ‘real representation’ in acting – meaning, for example, that only LGBTQ actors should play LGBTQ roles. Until we’re all caught up, David maintains, ‘you have to protect those spaces for actors who come from those communities’.

It also helps that the industry is a safer place for women now than it was 10 years ago, says Georgia. ‘Because it 

definitely is,’ she adds. ‘Things happened to me when I was younger that I now realise were not great, but at the time I thought it was all part of it – that I had to laugh them off. I’m talking about situations that made me feel uncomfortable,’ she explains. ‘Now I would be able to say so, but at the time the dialogue just wasn’t there. And I don’t think any of our kids would have to feel like that now. Even if they did, they would have the words and the people behind them to say: “that’s not OK”.’

David is currently filming the Disney+ series Rivals, based on Jilly Cooper’s famous bonkbuster, he tells me. ‘And there’s an “intimacy co-ordinator” on that because there’s quite a lot of shagging, so everyone’s being very appropriate and careful.’ 

But doesn’t it feel strange having your sex scenes ‘co-ordinated’? ‘Oh, it’s ludicrous.’ He grins. ‘Because it means you’re making the most intimate, private moments very compartmentalised and that there’s someone there asking the embarrassing questions nobody did historically – but that’s because you’re not doing these things with your actual partner. So that’s another thing that has got better over the years.’ He tilts his head to one side, narrows his eyes: ‘That said, there are still lots of reasons not to become an actor.’

This seems as good a place to end as any, and as the Tennants take me back through the garden to a side gate, Georgia tells her husband she’s ‘going for a manicure – and you have to come with me’. When I leave they’re still bickering gently, with David asking: ‘Why do I have to come?’ I don’t catch his wife’s reply, but I suspect it’s just because she really likes him.

[thepenandthepistol]

Mundane Aching (Platonic!Grain x reader)

Due to some soreness, you're unable to help Gem like you said you would. Grian helps you out and soothes some of your worries.

A/N : Sickfic I wrote because my period was killing me T-T and also the first thing I've actually posted on this account! A win for the slayers of perfectionism. This was meant as a platonic fic but I'm sure you could read it as romantic if you want. Also, reader is an avian as well. (1018 words)

Art by @applestruda and divider by @saradika-graphics

There's still so much to be done, and here you are, still under the sheets. You spent the first half of the day trying to manage a creeping pain in your back right where skin meets the base of your coal-black wings. Ache spreads in waves from the limb and into your vertebra, as if something alive is puppeteering the sinews under your skin.

Despite the guilt, you've resigned yourself to your bed; due to an enormous nap, you missed your afternoon plans with Gem. Being an avian means you were much more used to flying than she was, and the new nether build she was planning required some tight maneuvering. Days like these are some you look forward to, holding onto the back of her chestplate, hovering over lava lakes and bastions. 

The trust she has in you, feeling safe even if dangling over potential death, is special in its own right. The friendship you've cultivated and the idle conversations had midair are among your most treasured memories. So, when the exhaustion from carrying materials to and from your shop finally made itself known, you groaned as you curled up on your bed, trying to push away the pain and at least pass by Gem's to apologize for your absence. Maybe sweeten the deal with a nice cake and evening tea.

A sudden flash of crimson outside your window makes you stop in your tracks, feet just inches from touching the cool floor. A single moment of silence is had before Grian pulls himself back up onto the windowsill with a mischievous smile. 

"Did I scare you?" He asks, shuffling inside and closing the window behind him with a soft click.

"Oh yeah," you start, closing your eyes and breathing deeply as a particularly sharp stab rolls from your back and claws at your ribs. "Only if being worried you were going to cut your wings on the bars outside counts as scared." 

"Excuse me, I'm very skilled! I could probably dodge like five of those in a row." He speaks with a smile, but, to your dismay, he's seen through your teasing and into the discomfort below. 

"Gem's been looking for you," he says, aligning some of the trinkets on your shelf and picking your work clothes off the floor. "Sent me here to check while she continued working." 

"Shit," you sigh and drape your arm over your eyes, blocking the light crawling in from outside. "I'm having a bad day, I guess. Must've overworked myself last week, and now my wings are killing me."

"Have you had something to eat?" You hear your closet door creek open and Grian looking for something between clothes and towels.

"Not exactly. I had a snack before midday, but I slept through lunch." You open your eyes to see him bring a nice blanket over your shoulders. It doesn't ease the pain, but the soft texture makes existing a little easier.

"Well, just about time for some tea then." You grimace, remembering your promise to Gem. Grian moves to close the room door behind him when you groan out a protest, wrapping the woolen quilt around yourself and finally standing up.

"I'll join you. If I lay here any longer, I'll sleep the entire day away," Grian snickers, but walks in sync with your lethargic steps down the stairs and into a quaint kitchen. 

Plopping down on a stool, you watch Grian clack on the stove and place a ceramic kettle on top. It was a birthday gift from Ren. A painted flock of dark birds contrasts the white background alongside some fleuron details. 

"Grian, mate, it's you," you point to a particularly wonky bird.

"Absolutely not, look at him! He's your splitting image." He gestures to the dark wings behind you. 

"You know what else is splitting?"

"Your head?"

"My head."

You rest your temple on the wooden table and furrow your eyebrows. You could probably make the journey over to Gem's by now; despite the headache and muscle cramps, you're feeling well enough to stand, and you could chance flying the short way over. 

With a crack, you stretch your wings entirely; they spasm a bit before reaching their full length; you pay no mind. What was once a terrible tendon-deep flare has resided to a burning soreness; you've done more than travel a couple hundred blocks in worse conditions. 

Grian pours the water into two mugs, each with a homemade teabag flopping loosely off the side. You take the smaller mug, lifting it to say 'cheers,' and sip on the sweet berry. You begin putting on your boots when Grian finally lets concern wash over his face.

"You should rest a bit more. Gem's fine. Her garden's turning out really nice." You hesitate a tad bit before tying the laces together.

"I promised her I'd help you know. I'm sure she understands, but I want to make good on my word." You don't register Grian setting down his mug and tilt your head in confusion as he kneels and pulls your boots to his thigh, unlacing them.

"You sound like a knight going to war," he cracks a tiny fond smile. "I know it's your nature, but these things aren't that serious. Your 'word' is still good even if you don't put your own health on the line." Silence follows.

"You're sure she doesn't need me?"

"Positively." He stalks off to line your shoes up by the door and then returns, sitting next to you on the couch and letting his wing curl around you.

"You need to relax. No wonder you're having a bad time when your muscles are that tense." He teases, and you scoff, taking back the mug and continuing to drink.

"Can you tell Gem I won't be making it then, please." 

"Yeah, course," he says, knocking his shoulder with yours and hopping to his feet. 

"I should tie a letter to your leg and throw you out of the second-story window." You say into the mug as he turns the knob on the front door.

"Hey! I am not a pigeon!"

[fanfics4all]

Father

Request: Yes / No I found this writing prompt but I totally forgot to save it and I have no idea who wrote it! If anyone knows please tag!

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Brandon Foster x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 737

Warnings: Mentions of shitty foster system, a Father leaving his daughter

Y/N: Your Name 

Prompt: “You abandoned me! I was seven years old, and you just left me there for them! Do you even know how much I’ve suffered?”

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I could feel Brandon’s hand gently squeezing mine as we stood outside the cafe. My heart was hammering against my ribcage, each beat making me feel closer to breaking. It had been years since I’d seen him, so many years of wondering or trying to convince myself I didn’t need him or that I didn’t care. But now, here he was, my Father, sitting at a table inside. He looked almost nothing like the man I remembered. 

“Are you ready?” Brandon asked, his voice soft. I nodded, but the truth was, I wasn’t ready. I didn’t know if I’d ever be ready. Taking a deep breath, I walked inside. We approached the table and my Father looked up. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of recognition. But just like that, it was gone, replaced by an awkward smile. 

I sat down across from him, every nerve in my body on edge. He looked at me, then Brandon, who sat beside me, offering me his quiet strength. I tried to stay calm and keep my emotions in check, but the words tumbled out before I could stop them. 

“You abandoned me!” My voice shook, and I felt a lifetime of hurt pour out of me, my voice ringing as the pain I kept hidden for so long finally surfaced. 

“I was seven years old, and you just left me there for them! Do you even know how much I’ve suffered?” My Father’s face fell and he looked away, his hands twisting together on the table. 

“I-I know…” He stammered, barely able to meet my eyes. 

“I know I wasn’t there. I know I wasn’t… what you needed.” 

“What I needed?” I scoffed, anger surging through me. 

“I needed my Father. I needed someone to care about me, someone to fight for me. Instead, I was left alone, tossed from one foster home to the next. Do you have any idea what that was like? What those people did to me?” He swallowed hard, his face etched with guilt. 

“I’m so sorry…” He said, his voice barely audible. 

“I-I wasn’t capable back then. I didn’t know how to be a Father. I thought you’d be better off-” I let out a bitter laugh that cut him off. 

“Better off? You thought I’d be better off being abandoned, feeling like no one in the world wanted me? You think that’s what I deserved?” Brandon’s hand tightened around mine, a silent reminder that I wasn’t alone anymore. I took a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. 

“I spent my entire life wondering what I did wrong… wondering why you left… wondering if I wasn’t good enough.” My Father’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but I felt no sympathy. 

“I didn’t know…” His voice was thick with regret. 

“I-I was scared and selfish, and I know that doesn’t excuse anything. I’ve thought about you every day… I know I hurt you, and if I could go back-” 

“But you can’t.” I interrupted.

“You can’t go back, and you can’t undo what you did. You left me to figure it out on my own, to feel like I was worth nothing. And now, you think you can just, what? Show up? That it’ll make it all better?” Brandon wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. My Father nodded slowly, looking utterly defeated. 

“I understand if you never want to see me again…” His voice cracking.

“But I just wanted a chance to say I’m sorry. To tell you that… that I never stopped thinking about you, Y/N. And that I’m so proud of you, even if I have no right to be.” His words hung in the air. I didn’t know if I could forgive him. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to trust him. But as I looked at him, I saw a man haunted by his own mistakes. I took a deep breath, looking down, focusing on Brandon’s hand still holding mine. 

“I don’t know if I can forgive you…” My voice was barely audible. 

“But… I appreciate you saying it.” He nodded, a glimmer of hope breaking through his sorrow. 

“That’s all I can ask.” Brandon squeezed my hand. I gave him a small, grateful smile. Maybe someday I could find it in me to forgive my Father, but for now, I was still hurt and angry at him.

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[critical-derolo]

Starlight twinkles softly above them as they drift through the low looming clouds of the night sky. Being up here, on the sky ship, it's the closest to peace most of them have ever - maybe will ever come to. The world down below, and its problems, cannot reach them up here. There is nothing but fresh air, a gentle light, and each other.

Orym sleeps out here most often, of course. The little Air Ashari would logically feel more at home up here than down below, so it naturally makes sense that he would sleep in such freedom as well. Laudna likes it, too, though, and steps outside in the dead of night as often as she can. When her sorcerer sleeps calmly, no wrinkle in her brow, her jaw unclenched. When the moon leaves her alone.

It's soothing, for the dead woman. It quiets the silence in her head that is so roaringly loud most days she cannot think clearly. Insanity, she's come to find, is just another word for noise. Far too much noise.

Tranquility is the exquisite lullaby of a softly whirring engine of a sky ship. The creak of wood shifting on air currents. The flap of sails catching a breeze. If they spent the rest of their days up here, Laudna would be more than happy. "Do you miss Dorian?"

"Oh, jeez!" Orym gasps, his entire tiny frame freezing in a moment before relaxing again. A small hand clutches his chest over his heart. "I didn't think you noticed me."

"Some part of me notices everything," Laudna replies ominously, her dark gaze never straying from the hazy clouds around them. "The rest of me just usually does not."

"Yes," he agrees. Or answers. The halfling climbs up onto a barrel of... something, he can't actually remember if anyone told him what is in it. Maybe just water? All the same, he gets comfortable closer to his companions, jerking his chin to a sleeping Imogen. "How's she doing?"

Finally, Laudna stirs. Her thin, pale lips tug up in the corner - the shadow of a beautiful smile. Beautiful. Like Imogen has always claimed, like Lady Vex'ahlia agreed. He can see it now, beyond the scary. Or within it. "She's sleeping well," Laudna says in a voice just as soft. Her long fingers brush a purple lock of hair from Imogen's face, tucking it behind her ear before plucking the thin blanket higher up over the girl's shoulder. Tucked into Laudna's side and lap, she could not look comfier, and Orym suddenly feels like he's intruding. "Do you miss Will?"

"Every day," he replies without missing a beat. "Do you miss Delilah?"

Laudna blinks and her smile turns bittersweet.

They have strange conversations, he realizes. When they're alone. He gains access to a very different Laudna than he's seen with the others, something softer, something deeper, something darker and more hopeful. Or scared. Hope and fear are a breath away from each other - maybe it's the breath that defines them. "It was bad but I don't think it's the worst thing that's ever happened to you."

Those black eyes slowly raise to meet his and he can see the gears turning, thoughts lacing together and forming a sharp lattice. How Imogen doesn't get cut on it, he has no idea, and wonders if Laudna softens for her or if she softens Laudna. Either way, on her own, in this moment, Orym can see the echo of Delilah on her face. "I realized that too late."

"We'll keep her safe," he promises.

Her head tilts just a little too far, some of that horror seeping back into her person. When she opens her mouth, she snaps it shut immediately and relaxes her pose. The darkness pulls back and, like the moon peeking out from behind a cloud, Laudna's kindness seeps into the space between them. "I know you'll do your best, Orym," she says in that lilting voice of hers. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For scaring you."

"You don't," he insists and she blinks again. He smiles and glances off the side of the boat. "Not anymore, Spooky. I'm sorry."

"For what?" she echoes.

"For being a mirror." His little fingers twist in the air, a soft mossy green glow between them until tulip petals fall. Drift to the floor of the ship, through the air, trailing off into the sky. "Or my bad timing. I keep popping up in your quiet moments."

"Like a bad penny," she agrees with the warmest smile he's seen all night. "I like that."

"Do you?"

"It scares the others in a different way, in the same way Will scares them around you," she explains. "I would love to talk about Will."

It's sharp in his chest, like a jagged piece of glass that moves each time he breathes. But with the agony comes a subtle, almost intoxicating relief.

Taking a deep breath, Orym settles in more officially. His gaze swoops between the two women, the way their hands remain clasped even as Imogen sleeps, and remembers the many mornings he woke up with Will's hand in his. "He loved the night."

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Into The Deep

(Story Post)

Dusty had spent most of his time that night in temporary custody, which really meant he was held up at the gates of the elven city by two handsome guards. As proud Dark elves, they were very resistant to his advances at first, but eventually they warmed up to him. By the time Korsy came to pick him up, he had lengthened his hair to match the elves and the guards were taking turns plaiting his locks. “Looks like you're fitting right in,” Korsy commented amused. “Oh yes, Bjarne and Marbjörn were about to show me a tour of the island,” Dusty said. “You'll have to do that later, boys,” Korsy said to a pair of grumbles. “I need Dusty in the Deep with me.” “Okay, Adele. Let's go!” Dusty said, taking Korsy's arm. “So, they're not worried about my poofing around?” “Well, they're pretty confident, if you poof, they'll eliminate you.” “Ah.” “Demons are my specialty, personally,” Korsy teased. “Don't remind me.”

They had a twenty-minute limit at the lab and that included the long elevator ride down that gave the Deep its name. They were used to this kind of thing at APID, but this seemed even more excessive. “What day is it?” Dusty joked as they emerged from the elevators. The doors opened into a long hall lit with violet flamed torches. The floor was gypsum and the walls and ceiling polished granite. Aesthetically terrible but someone had put a lot of work into it. A guard met them there and they were escorted down to the containment rooms. Each room was visible through glass walls. They were brightly lit, entirely white, with the only furniture being a small bed in a corner. Tand and the kids had all been separated so they went to look at the kids first to make sure they were alright. First was the smallest child whom Asger had nicknamed ‘Bita’. The poor thing usually stayed close to one of their older siblings, so they were hidden, curled up under the bed. They didn't try to lure them out and instead Dusty went over and crouched beside them. “Just find out if they're healthy and we'll move onto the next one,” Korsy said. “And be careful. This one bit Asger.” “Oh, I'm not concerned about that,” Dusty said. “A little bite won’t hurt me.” He laid down on his chest and looked at the little one trying to press themselves against the wall as much as possible. They stared at him with big round eyes. “Hello, little friend,” Dusty said softly. “I know you're scared, but I just want to say ‘hi’.” Their eyes searched his face but they didn't say anything. “Do they speak?” Dusty asked Korsy. “Asger said they picked up Elvish off of him like it was just a game,” Korsy said, staying back near the door. “I imagine if you talk to them enough, they'll get English.” “You can't talk to them in Elvish?” Dusty asked. “I don’t know Elvish. I was never allowed to learn.” “Oh.” Bita still didn't move, but they could hear their short frightened breathing. Dusty tried again. “You're a cute little thing, aren't you?” he mused. “You remind me of my son, Grey. He's likely just a bit older than you. He doesn't talk much either but he's still learning. I heard you're very good at learning.” Bita didn't move but their mouth opened a little like they wanted to say something. “You're the baby of the family, aren't you?” Dusty said gently. “You miss your siblings. We're here to see if we can get you all back together again. You and…what were the names?” “Sten and Soppa. Rock and Soup,” Dusty reminded, a bit mocking of his cousin's poor naming abilities. “Remember, Asger made those up. They don't actually know each other by names.” “Right. Well…” Dusty offered his hand. “Little one, all I ask is your hand for a moment and then we'll let you be. I won't hurt you.” Bita’s breath hitched as the hand came towards them and suddenly they lunged, biting down hard on Dusty’s hand. Expecting it, he grit his teeth through the pain and didn't pull away, just concentrating on forming a connection to the child's physical and emotional state. “You can bite me. I mean it when I say I won't hurt you.” After a moment, the bite weakened and Bita let go, receding deeper under the bed. Dusty took his hand back and shook it out, the bite wound healing quickly. “Alright. I won't trouble you any more. Thank you.” He got up and went back to the hall. “Geez, that was really quite the bite strength. Their teeth are so sharp!” “Are you okay?” Korsy asked. “Yeah. Of course. Surprised me though.” “Okay,” Korsy said satisfied. “So they're healthy?” “Seem to be, though pretty hungry and scared,” Dusty said. “Next kid?” “Yeah. Come on.” Sten reacted mostly the same as Bita, although they didn't bite. They managed to get some words parroted from them, like ‘scared' and ‘tired', but after a quick hand shake, Dusty could deduce these feelings himself. He started to wish he could do more than just sense others emotions and mildly influence them because the child had been too scared to sleep since they arrived. If he could sleep them like angels could, it would be quite useful right now. Soppa was the more interesting case. This one didn't hide so much, and when they saw Korsy, they sat up on the little bed and watched him as the visitors entered. “Asger,” the child said although lacking confidence. Korsy paused, not expecting words so quickly. “Oh. Naw, kid. I'm Korsy. Asger and I are cousins though so we look a little alike.” “Cousin?” Soppa asked. “Yeah. My mother and his father are siblings like you and the other kids. Or at least, I assume you are.” “Siblings…” Soppa considered the word. “Yeah. You're Tand's kids, right? You're siblings,” Korsy explained. “I have a sibling. One of my parents carried her in her stomach and she came out. You're the oldest. Do you remember anything like that? Tand is your parent, right?” Soppa paused and then nodded. “Yes.” “Right. So they're your siblings,” Korsy finished. “Asger and Korsy are cousins,” Soppa said. “Not siblings.” “No. We are the children of siblings, which makes us cousins,” Korsy confirmed. Soppa nodded again. “You're a very bright kid, Soup,” Korsy said, putting his hands akimbo and smiling. “Would you mind letting my friend Dusty here have your hand for a moment?” Soppa looked at Dusty and shook their head. “You cannot have my hand.” “Oh? Why's that?” Korsy asked. “You don't need to be scared.” “I need my hands,” Soppa said. Dusty let out a short snort and looked at Korsy. “They think we want to take it. Literally.” “Oh, shit. Sorry, not what I meant,” Korsy said, waving his hands. “I just meant let Dusty touch your hand. He won't take it from you.” “Oh.” Soppa looked at their hands and then held them both out. “Thank you, dear.” Dusty approached and held Soppa's hands in his. “Ah, you’re very relaxed. I'm surprised. I'd expect a little more fear, but frankly, you're only just cautious.” Soppa furrowed their brow. “Asger said he would help. I trust Asger. You seem like Asger.” “I see. You must've had the most interactions with Asger,” Dusty said. “I can sense that you look up to him.” “My parent…Tand feeds me and my siblings. Asger fed me too,” Soppa stated. “Ah, so that's the key to your heart, huh?” Korsy chuckled. He patted down his suit. “Now I wish I brought some snacks or something…” “Now, you should be careful about that,” Dusty said, taking his hands away. “I've told my son and I'll tell you. Don't just trust any stranger who offers you food.” “Why not?” Soppa asked, confused. “They are feeding me. That is important.” “Right, but some people don't have good intentions for children,” Dusty said. “So…” Soppa was having a hard time. “Should I not trust Asger?” “I mean, you can trust him, I'm pretty sure, but from now on, don't take food from strangers,” Dusty said. “Okay?” Soppa nodded silently. Dusty could still sense some confusion from them though. “Well, you're all healthy, so we only need to worry about getting you out of here and getting some food into you,” Dusty said. “I hear you like soup. Let's get you some soon, how does that sound?” Soppa nodded quickly. “Soup is good!” “Alright. We’ll see you soon.” Dusty smiled and patted their arm before going back to the door with Korsy. “I knew it was a good idea to bring you along,” Korsy said as they backed out of the room. “I have no idea how to talk to kids.” “That can't be true. You have your little sister, don't you?” Dusty reminded. “Yeah, but that's different. She's family,” Korsy dismissed. They were now in front of Tand's room. Through the glass, they saw Tand sitting near the back of the room, leaned up against the wall. Their eyes were dark and heavy and they watched with great caution as the pair approached the door. Korsy led this time. Dusty handled the kids easy, but really this rendez-vous was Korsy's responsibility and it wasn't appropriate for him to potentially put his trainee in danger. “Hi there,” Korsy started as he stepped just inside the room. “I'm Korsy.” Tand slowly got up, still pressed against the wall. They bared their teeth, sharp and intimidating. “Whoa, no need for that,” Korsy said, waving his hands. “I come in peace. I'm Asger's cousin. He sent me to help you.” “He lied!” Tand spat, following it with a long hiss. “I do not trust him!” “No, no, that's fair, really.” Korsy started to lower himself, trying to give off an unthreatening appearance. “I get it. He told me everything. He promised you safety in his world, but instead you were separated from your children and thrown in a cell. Anyone would feel betrayed. Trust me, this kind of thing happens way too often…” Tand continued to bare their teeth and said nothing. Korsy got himself to the floor and crossed his legs. “I want to say sorry on Asger's behalf. He genuinely wanted to help you. He wants to help you. This was just something he should have anticipated. You can't just bring back a family of four from the Dark Realm. It's just not allowed around here.” “Send us back!” Tand snarled. “I hear you. I do. I don't think I have that power, to be honest,” Korsy said, scratching the back of his neck. “I haven't been allowed near the Rift in many years.” He flipped up his palms in front of him. “But, I might be able to get you out of here. You and the children.” Tand shook their head quickly. “No. I do not trust you either.” “Really, that's fine. I wouldn't trust me in your position. I get that.” Korsy shrugged. “But, I don't really need you to trust me. My concern right now isn't your trust, my concern is getting you out of here. And more specifically, right now it's making sure you’re in good health.” “…Health,” Tand echoed, considering the term. “Yeah. My friend here, Dusty. He just needs a quick look at you to check that you’re in tip top shape then we'll be out of your hair,” Korsy explained. Tand's eyes darted to Dusty who still standing outside the door. They shook their head. “No. Leave.” “Now hold on, hear us out,” Korsy said. “We just spoke to your kids. They're all healthy. A little tired, a little hungry, but otherwise healthy. Dusty checked in on them for you. We just want to check on you too.” Tand wrinkled their nose. “I do not have a choice, do I?” “Of course you have a choice,” Korsy said. “I'm not trying to force you to do anything.” He signalled for Dusty to come in. “Just meet him. See how you feel.” Tand's eyes widened as Dusty stepped inside, and they pressed themselves further against the wall, hissing. “No! Leave!” Korsy held up a hand to stop Dusty from coming any closer. “Relax…” Tand started breathing heavily, their eyes darting about. “I do not trust you!” “Tand, don't panic,” Korsy said. “We'll leave, okay?” He started to stand up. Tand was too wound up though and as soon as Korsy started to rise, they lashed out. Lunging forward, they took a warning swipe at Korsy, but faltered. When their foot came down, their knees went weak and they staggered, starting to fall. Korsy caught them, rather surprised at how limp they went. “Whoa, are they okay?” Dusty asked. “They passed out!” Korsy said, carrying Tand down into a sitting position. “They must be exhausted…” Dusty stepped forward again, his hand out. “Can I?” “Should be safe, yeah.” Dusty carefully approached and placed a hand on the limp person's shoulder. He blinked. “Oh.” “Oh?” Korsy echoed. “They're definitely tired,” Dusty said. “Very hungry too. But…I think they need to see a doctor.” “A doctor?” Korsy asked. Dusty nodded. “Yeah. I… Hold on.” He moved his hand down to Tand's torso then stomach. He paused. “I think they're pregnant.” Korsy's eyes widened. “Pregnant?” Dusty took his hand away and nodded again. “Yeah… But in their current condition, it can't be good for a baby. They need fluids, food and rest. They're very stressed out, I could hardly get a good read.” Korsy nodded back, although he was still surprised by this information with just how rail thin Tand was. He picked up the unconscious Tand and laid them on the bed. “We should go then. Only way we can help is to get them out of here. I gotta make sure my uncle's in a giving mood…” Korsy motioned for a guard to let them out and they exited quickly. Dusty glanced back at Tand, empathetic worry starting to build up in his chest. “I wish Syd was here…” Dusty thought out loud. “They'd be able to help.” “Well, if we get them out, it’ll be into APID custody. A doctor can see them then,” Korsy said. “Are you confident you can get them out of this place?” “Yeah, I think I have an offer my uncle will be happy to accept… I just need to talk to Asger first.”