#how are we feeling going into 2025 lads?

[titles-for-tangents]

Ink drawing by Dillon Samuelson. Words are from the song Fall Down, Never Get Back Up Again by La Dispute.

[bell-swamp-fitzjames]

sometimes u just have to lean into the grandpa core and accept if u want to leave genuine comments sometimes you're gonna say things like "thanks for sharing" bc its just cool ppl share their free time with u

[astracora]

Happy Newdawn Day!

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc (featuring Nero, Tara, Simone, Greyson, Yvonne, Jeremiah, Thomas and Caleb (mention only))

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5797

Written: 1st January 2025

Notes: Established relationship with gn!MC (using Cat Curse MC) with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. I'm so sorry this got away from me so much I feel baffled by it. I just had to get it down, it's so messy and not beta-read, but I love them all so much. (I'm also sorry for the ending, I got possessed by Caleb's not-ghost). So enjoy... the first actual fic I've written for the Poly!LADs and not just smaus... Now I need to eat.

Masterlist AO3

If someone asked you right now, “Hey, a year ago did you think you’d be stood here?”

Well, you’d have given some incredulous notion of being alive, let alone stood in one of Linkon’s Parks, taking in the sight of your loved ones.

Most of them, anyway.

If, upon meeting Xavier, Rafayel, Sylus and Zayne (again), someone had said, “Hey in a years time they will be the most important people to you.” You’d have laughed in their face. The idea as absurd as it is invigorating… because they are. The most important people in the world to you. The companions you trust to have your back in combat, the people you want to see most when you wake up, the lives you most want to share.

You think back to a hazy childhood, told your heart could give out any minute. A timeline unknown, the nature of your condition hard to track. The core in your chest, a question no one had the answer to. Giving up on a future, on meaning anything.

You think back to days spent in the hospital, for your heart, for injuries gained from fights that even Caleb couldn’t help piece back together, for the arm you lost. Wondering if you were going to hit the wall eventually.

When you lost Caleb, your partner in crime, and rock, you’d expected the tides to rise. Sinking you.

It was folly to misjudge those around you. Kindness, warmth and love, with some degree of greed. Of course they’d grabbed your hand, pulling you back to land. Wrapping you in a towel, bringing you to heat, keeping you shielded against the chill.

The wounds healed, though they left scars behind, but you could breathe again. 

That troublesome little heart beating harder, hope as a lifeblood. Bringing you forward, keeping you moving.

All the way to a new year.

Between the five of you, the gathering had bloomed out for Newdawn Day.

You’re not sure how Rafayel and Sylus had gotten permission to rent out an entire park. Money had to be involved, you also wouldn’t be surprised if threats came into play too. Though you hope not.

You’d been decorating all morning. Flowers, bunting, balloons. Tables set up with food, drinks and an entire section set up with photobooth equipment and props. After all, you’d spent far too much of this year taking photos, what better way to commemorate the end of it.

Xavie’s barbeque has reopened, with Sylus keeping a watchful eye… or being an interference. It was hard to tell.

Rafayel has taken to making drinks, you weren’t sure where he learned how to mix cocktails, but you’re happy to leave him to it. Watching as he makes non-alcoholic ones for Zayne as well.

You sit with Tara and Simone, watching the people around you.

“I can’t believe we’ve been hunters for a year now.” Tara nudges you, grin on her face. Her cheeks are slightly pink, eyes glittering as she leans her head on your shoulder. “I’m so glad we joined together.”

The fidgeting in your chest is ticklish, and you let out a soft laugh under breathe, “Yeah, me too Tay.”

Simone leans back in her chair, stretching her arms out behind her, as she balances on the back two legs, “We’ve been really busy, I bet it’ll get worse too.”

Tara groans, “Come on Omi…”

A bark of laughter is the response as she rights her chair, leaning forwards, “Hey, it’s fine, we’ll be working at it together.” Poking Tara in the forehead, she laughs again.

As she rubs the offending spot, Tara looks over at where Nero is chatting to Xavier, “Can’t believe Nero came, he doesn’t really enjoy these kind of things.”

“Yeah, no offence but I think he likes Wanderers more than us.”

You laugh, it’s not incorrect. You think about meeting Nero, about the shy man who is a living encyclopedia about wanderers, who could talk for hours about Lumiere. You also think about how isolating it is not to share things you enjoy with others, not knowing how to approach people because they think you’re weird.

Odd.

Not fitting in.

You think about how the first time you’d engaged with Nero’s conversation, his eyes had lit up and he’d leaned forwards so far in his chair he’d fallen out of it.

You think about how he attached himself to Xavier, just because the man listened, calm, even if he didn’t always have much to say in response.

Didn’t make him feel like an outsider.

Pride fills your chest even though Xavier’s personality has little to do with you. You still find yourself loving him more for his warmth. His acceptance.

The sleepy smile on his face when he assures someone he has no problems hearing them.

“There’s no Lumiere specials running today,” Simone is talking, looking at her phone, “maybe the size of the gathering and that mixed together to make a Nero appearance.”

“Plus, Xavier.”

“We should have invited Jenna!” Tara exclaimed, grabbing your arm, pulling it. You think that maybe Raffy put a little too much rum in her daiquiri.

“Do you think she would have even come?”

You think about Sylus over by the grill, arms folded and canines on show in his smirk, “I think maybe next time, I’m sure we can invite her next time.”

When the stress of having hunters in the same area as Sylus isn’t quite so high, when you’re not constantly worried about tripping up with his name. When you don’t have to sit and debate if inviting him is worth the risk, despite loving him and wanting him there. Wanting to see him outside of his world of violence and strain.

You’re not sure how much Jenna knows, but it’s not worth pushing a brick in an old wall.

“You should check on those kids though.” Simone reaches over to turn your head, to where to twins are milling around by the dessert table. You can see them fidgeting. Hand twisting in their hoodie pockets. “Either they really want some cake, or they’re uncomfortable.”

You are standing before she’s even finished talking, worry twisting at you like a snake around your chest.

Tara releases your arm and nudges you forwards, grin on her face, “It’s Simone’s turn to get drinks anyway.”

The woman laughs, twisting the end of her ponytail around her finger, “They’re free, this is the easiest set of rounds I’ve ever had to get.”

Your laugh is soft, and warm, and so heavy in your heart, but you lean down to kiss the top of Tara’s head as she smiles so happily up at you, “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“See ya bestie!”

Simone returns the salute you offer, and you let your feet carry you to the twins.

They’re wearing their crow hoodies again, but with party hats over the hoods. Kieran’s scars are visible, his hood pushed back so you can see his eyes. They’re wavering, unsure. Darting around the place. It’s less controlled, but he looks so much like Sylus does that you pause.

Worried. They’re worried.

Of course they are, there’s hunters here, people who pose some… degree of threat to the person they care most about, other than each other.

Luke is fidgeting, bouncing on the heels of his feet, like he doesn’t know where to put all the pent up energy. You can tell the two are in a feedback loop. Feeding off each others anxieties.

As you approach, they seem to halt, for a moment. Looking at each other, then at the cakes, then at you. Seconds, and then Luke forces a grin. “Hey Hunter!”

Your head tilts as you watch them, Luke pushing his hood back a little so he can look at you properly.

“You’re wearing them again?” It’s an easier question, than the one you want to ask.

“Of course! They’re comfy.”

“Boss keeps pulling them off us to wash them.” Kieran pouts at you, the expression pulling at the scar over his cheek, “Aren’t clothes meant to be worn?”

It’s hard not to laugh at them, they remind you of kids far younger than they are sometimes. Other times the darkness lingering in their gaze is reminiscent of one you’ve seen in your own. In Sylus’… In Rafayel’s.

There’s a sickening in your stomach, that you have to move on from quickly, lest it start to burn like acid.

“You have to take care of them, clean them, and they’ll last longer.”

Kieran rubs his chin, and the laugh comes out this time. They really have picked up so many traits from Sylus.

It gives you some courage, to focus on their expressions, and force through the feeling that always comes, “Are you two ok? You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

Luke blinks, fidgeting stopping, and droops, “No.”

Kieran nudges him, “He means, no we’re fine.”

“You don’t have to lie.” You move to the table, and despite knowing they haven’t eaten a proper meal yet, you slice some sponge cake and shove it into their hands on little paper plates. “Eat.”

You feel like Zayne is in front of you for a moment.

Eat, then talk about how you’re feeling.

You’re not sure the cake fixes the feeling of struggling through your feelings, but you do know that the distraction of sugar, gives you a moment to ground on something real. Tangible.

The twins take the plates, looking down at them, and then back up at you.

“You don’t have to stay, anywhere you don’t want to be. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You don’t have to pretend, or lie, or act a certain way.”

You’re relieved when they take the plates, even happier when Luke shoves some in his mouth. He doesn’t bother with the fork, just grabs it. Kieran pokes at it for a moment, before following in his brother’s footsteps.

“There’s a lot of people.” Kieran finally speaks, twisting his fork in the sponge.

“You can borrow my noise cancelling headphones if you like? I’m sure Zayne has his too.”

Luke shakes his head, “Not like that. Too many possible threats.” He winces, “Sorry, they’re your friends.”

You sit on the table, carefully avoiding cake as you look at the two, “They’re my friends, they’re strangers to you. It’s alright.”

“We just feel weird. On edge.”

“Do you want to go back to the base, somewhere safer? Or home?”

The two shake their heads in sync, frowning more, “No. We want to be here. With boss. To celebrate.”

“So how can I help?”

The expression they shoot back is another you’ve seen on Sylus’ face. But their eyes are wider as they blink at you, their faces younger. Their cheeks softer. You wonder, for a moment, if this is what having brothers would make you feel like.

“If you want to stay,” You clarify, “what can be done to make you feel better here?”

They look at each other, hesitating on the precipice. You wonder if they fear revealing too much, like you are. Showing too much of your heart is a risk. It comes with the very real fear of stumbling over the edge, with no net to catch you.

It comes with your chest flayed open, fragile organ revealed, ready for the risk of a knife… or a hand, no matter how gentle.

“We don’t know.”

“Can we think about it?”

You nod, hopping off the table, “You come find me the second you work it out, or go bother Sylus. I’m sure Xavier would appreciate the break from his probable torment.”

They laugh, and you watch for a moment as they resume eating their cake. Some level of buoyancy back in their stances. The relief settles… It’s something at least.

A door they can walk through at any moment.

The smell of grilling meat and vegetables has you drifting over to Xavie’s Barbecue. You’re relieved that Sylus has been keeping an eye over it, because there’s no smell of burning, and Xavier’s successfully making an array of food for everyone.

You didn’t want to think about how much food wastage there would be otherwise…

Nero is talking animatedly, gesturing as Xavier nods. Sylus is half paying attention, smirking at the prince every now and then. He notices you first though, hearing your footsteps even over the grass.

Sharp red eyes, turning molten and liquid as his gaze focuses on your approach. “Ah, there you are kitten.” Is said on an exhale. You’d think it was relief, with the way he breathes you in as you stand next to him and Xavi.

Xavier uses the hand not currently turning burgers, to hold onto yours, squeezing before releasing.

With his chin resting on your shoulder, Sylus indicates towards Nero with a half-hearted wave, “The Lumiere fan was just telling us some new stories.” You can hear his amusement. Clearly enjoying the situation.

The look on Nero’s face, however, is thrilled. You’re used to spending time talking to him, but the glee you see is always somewhere on the verge of scary, and sweet. “I heard that Lumiere took on an Arbiterwing. ALONE!”

You feel ice drip down your spine, and your eyes pin Xavier. Who jumps, almost dropping his tongs.

A chuckle sounds in your ear, as a hand grabs your waist, thumb soothing under your shirt to help ease down your hackles.

“Oh you did, huh? All on his own?”

“Yeah, how cool right? Lumiere’s EVOL is so powerful.”

If you had your fangs still, you think they’d be showing, as your try not to outwardly glare at the hero in question, “So cool. I bet he’s a really impressive person. Lumiere, that is.”

This time Xavier pouts, and you see the light blush moving over his cheeks. He looks over at you, brows furrowing.

“I wonder how his loved ones must feel though, finding out he fought such a terrifying beast on his own.”

Now he has the decency to look guilty, like a sad bunny, ears drooping. You almost feel bad, almost. Wanting to soothe skin in your hands, before you remember he’s the one out there fighting wanderers you’d had to fight with a team, on his own. “I’m sure he was careful.” Xavier grumbles, pleading beautiful starry eyes focused on you.

“Foods burning, prince.” Sylus purrs from his place leaning against your shoulder.

The man in question jumps, and resumes his work.

Nero still has starry admirable eyes, not paying attention to your and Xavier’s starring, “It’s a shame he’s not a hunter, imagine how much more he could do in a team of us!”

You look away from Xavier, whose shoulders relax a bit when you stop spearing him with your eyes, and laugh, “Would be helpful having him around, right?”

Tara and Simone call over Nero, yelling for him to join them. You almost expect him to turn them down, but he seems buoyed by his conversations with Xavier, and trots over to join them.

One you’re alone, you turn around to look at Xavier properly, “Really? An Arbiterwing?”

Sylus growls a little, “Damn things.” You’ve never asked Sylus why he finds Arbiters so difficult, you remember fighting one with him in the N109 Zone, and you certainly didn’t want to fight one again if you could ever help it. Still he seems particularly irritable about them.

“I promise I was careful. I didn’t have time to call for anyone else.” He places a hand on the your cheek and presses a kid to your forehead, pleading eyes bright and beautiful. You sigh, tugging him down a little, planting a kiss on his cheek. His cheeks flare bright, and his fingers twitch against your cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You poke him in the chest now, “I’ll hold you to that, oh great hero.”

His groan is accompanied by yours and Sylus’ laugh. Who nuzzles against your shoulder, as he watches Xavier plating food.

“My job is done, nothing’s burned down.” He nips at your neck, “I think your favourite crow deserves praise.”

You mimic him, rubbing your chin with one hand, and titling your head, “Is Mephie around? I thought he had the day off.”

Another nip, this one a little harder, but not painful, “You’re cruel, kitten.” His hands are now both under your shirt, kneading your skin, warm palms sending small skitters of heat up and down your spine, “I worked hard, keeping the prince from destroying everything with his curse.”

“I’m not cursed.” Xavier spits back, “Some things just… don’t like working for me.”

“The burned down kitchen back at the base, certainly felt cursed.”

“It was your ovens fault.”

“Whatever you say, bunny.”

Your hand reaches up to tangle in Sylus’ soft hair as the two snipe at each other, easing through the strands and pulling his head in a way you can kiss him. He bites your bottom lip, and as you pull away, drowsily tries to chase your lips with his. Purring at the scratching at the back of his head. “You did good, both of you. Thank you.”

He doesn’t answer, just purrs and growls as he nuzzles, and inhales.

Xavier’s smile brightens, pride in his countenance as he nods, “Of course Starlight, whatever you need.”

“Take some grilled fish over to the fish, kitten.” Sylus finally breaks out of his daze, lifting himself up to grab a plate for Rafayel, that is being pilled with his favourites. “He’s been making drinks all day, I worry he’ll fall over soon.”

There’s something funny about the leader of Onychinus making sure Raffy is well fed, because he’d deny he was doing it. Pretend it was just to keep things moving smoothly, a measure to make the day easier to deal with.

Rather than what it actually is, concern for someone he cares about.

For a man so honest with his feelings, he prefers to hide them in smokescreens.

With a final kiss, one pressed to Xavier’s hand, and one to Sylus’ forehead, you leave with the plate.

When you approach Rafayel, he’s making a new drink for Yvonne and Greyson. It has gummy bears sprinkled on top, and a tiny little umbrella stuck in some pineapple. Greyson’s cheeks are very bright red, and you’re not surprised that he’s leaning heavily on Yvonne’s shoulder for balance.

“For you.” You offer the plate to Raffy, who sniffs at it happily, before stuffing a piece of salmon in his mouth.

“Cutie!” He speaks through chewing, pulling you down to join him at his makeshift bar. You grimace, staring at the sticky surface, and the mess he’s made.

Raffy is many things, a clean worker is not at all one of them.

You pull your arms back quickly to not get a horrifying sensory issue.

Your fish doesn’t notice, instead shaking a mixer in one hand, as he eats with the other. Even just looking at him, you can see the blush on his ears, and the slight unsteadiness to his hands. “Let me do that.” You take the mixer, “Eat.” He obliges, frowning only a little bit before he happily begins to clear his plate. Humming in satisfaction.

Xavier is a capable cook, when there’s no active flames or risk of explosion.

“Hey hunter!” Greyson exclaims, leaning forwards, his drink spilling a little over the side. “Thanks for inviting us.”

Yvonne smiles, offering you a glass of… what you assume is a Piña colada based by the pineapple slice. You take it, placing it down in front of you as you shake the mixer. Handing it back to Raffy, as he finishes his food. “I’m shocked seeing Dr Li trying to set up fireworks.”

Your laugh is warm, and fond. Zayne builds such an image of himself around others, “He’s secretly a big child, under the snowy layers.”

“Dr Li checked his watch so many times today, we were all worried we might get an emergency come in.”

“I wasn’t looking to seeing him frown, if that would have happened.”

“He shows his feelings so easily now, when it comes to you all.”

It’s hard to fight the heat in your cheeks, but its true. He has softened so much, especially recently.

Another drink is put down, “For Tara.” Raffy says, “This one for Simone.”

You watch as Yvonne nods, picking them up and wandering off.

“You’ve gained bar staff.” You speak, watching as Raffy puts his mixers down, finished with his orders for now, you assume. “What a successful little bar, our fishie is running.”

He preens, fangs peeking out with his smile, “I’m good at everything I do cutie.”

“Where did you even learn?” Greyson asks, chewing one of the gummy bears.

Rafayel shrugs, “Just one of those things you pick up when you travel.”

Looking at him, you want to ask follow up questions… but Raffy won’t share if he doesn’t want to, there’s always a feeling like looking through murky water with him. There’s always something there, lurking under the surface, but so hard to make out. You have to wait for it to surface, wait for it to come to you.

Better than trying to fish it out, and hurting it.

“I’ll take some water bottles around to everyone in a little while.” You look over at where Tara, Simone, and now Yvonne, are singing to a song playing throughout the park. As Nero nods his head absently, sipping some water. “Though your drinks are certainly popular.”

“Gotta greet the new day in style, cutie.” His head plops down into his hand, elbow on the bar, as he watches you. Beautiful eyes narrowing. Reading every little detail, every change.

Being stared at by Rafayel is a sensation that makes your back straighten.

When he puts his focus on something, he’s picking it apart, seeing every part of it, so he can paint it. In the way his eyes see the world. As art, as a wonder, as something worth protecting.

Your fingers reach out, shaking slightly, without even being aware of it, and brush the hair, that’s fallen right in front of his eyes, back. His skin paints red further, spreading down his neck, and his eyes sparkle. You wish you could paint, you wish more than anything that this beautiful man was kept in a portrait to stare at every moment of the day.

It’s hard to not believe in gods, when someone as beautiful as him sits there, staring at you. Like you make the waves crash against the shores.

He turns his head to kiss the tips of your fingers, before placing the pulse point of your wrist against his cheek again. “It’s a good day to celebrate.” He breathes out.

The laugh to your side pulls you out of your stupor, as Greyson nods in agreement. You pull back a little, though Rafayel doesn’t release your hand, keeping it in his lap as the two of you turn to your companion.

“Is Zayne doing ok?” You ask Rafayel.

“He debated drinking, then remembered how many people would be here, and changed his mind.”

“He’s a stickler for being a good example.” Greyson adds, stirring his drink.

You wonder if it’s really that, and the big snowman is not just stewing and fearing his control. Tightly wound and kept under lock and key, just in case. Always watchful.

At the very least, as you look over at him reading instructions on a firework box, you think he is having fun at least. You can’t say the same for Jeremiah, who is hovering by the photobooth, looking through the album next to it.

Raffy kisses your hand again, smiling at you, “Go be your nosy self, cutie. We’ll be here when you get back.”

“Or we’ll be playing spin the bottle much to Dr Li’s disappointment.”

You almost bark a laugh at Greyson, the mental image of Zayne playing spin the bottle or truth or dare, is such an image, you want to see it. Desperately. Pressing a kiss to the top of Raffy’s head as you stand, you wave at them both and head off.

“Sooo.” You poke your head over Jeremiah’s shoulder, who jumps. Looking at you like you’re a ghost. “Are you alright? Looking for any particular prop?”

It takes a moment before you think his brain starts working again, and he smiles… but its not a smile you’re used to seeing on Jeremiah’s face. You’ve seen it on Xavier’s face though. Sorrow lurking at the edges. Tired.

Maybe the passing of years for them both has a weight you’ll never understand.

“I’m alright, just… a lot of people. I haven’t been around this many in a long time.” He forces a laugh, “Silly right?”

You shake your head. You might have different reasons for struggling with crowds, but you refuse to let any of the people you’ve brought into your heart, think you are not a safe space for their concerns. “Not the first time I’ve heard that today. You’re fine.”

He’s got the album open on a photo of you, him and Xavier outside of Philos. Holding flowers in your arms.

It’s… a realisation that you’ve never seen Jeremiah with another person than Xavier. Like he’s become an island, with only Philos as his port.

So you change the page on the album, to some of Yvonne and Greyson. During the preparation for Zayne’s birthday. “We’ve taken so many photos this year.” It settles in your chest again, that thanks to your loved ones… you now have full albums, and many more to fill. “You should talk to Greyson, he likes sunflowers a lot.”

Jeremiah laughs, looking at you like you’re too obvious, “He’s a little drunk for that now.”

“When he sobers up then.” You huff, pushing the album into his arms, straightening the page out.

“I… I’ll try. It’s odd, seeing Xavier like this.”

“You can do it too, you know?”

There’s doubt in the mans eyes, you don’t want to look too close. It gives you a feeling like a fire that’s burned too long.

“Or you can just take some really stupid photos with me, wearing the worst hats we can find, and see how many we can take in under a minute.” It’s hard to look too close at someone’s emotions, you feel. Looking into someones eyes is painful, there are times you can manage it, and times you can’t.

You find some people’s gaze holds yours against your will, not violently, but powerfully. Rafayel and Sylus have eyes that pulling away from feels like tearing part of yourself out. Xavier and Zayne feel like staring into a tranquil pond, losing yourself.

Jeremiah’s right now are wavering on the edge of something, and you can’t keep looking at them, turning your head a little to look at the props on the table. You reach out, carefully picking up a pair of bunny ears, and place them carefully on his head.

“If you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to… but if you’re scared and still want to try, then stay, and build bridges.”

You think about the men you’ve made your home, and the fear of overcoming the need to flee from them.

The house in ashes and cinders. The number that never texts you back anymore.

“As grumpy as Xavier asks, he’s there if you need him. Me too.”

Jeremiah reaches up to touch the bunny ears on his head, and smiles weakly, “I do need to get a drink.”

You nudge him, hand gently pushing the man forwards towards where Raffy is now spinning a mixer around his finger, to the thrilled cheers of Greyson and Tara, “Go on then, make it a good one.”

As he walks away, he waves at you a little, but is soon pulled to sitting down by a drunk doctor, and a happy hunter.

Your final stop is the fireworks, as Thomas and Zayne set them up somewhere safe. You’re glad its Zayne setting them up, as you worry Raffy would get excited and set them off too early.

If there’s a flame to put out, better the snowman, than the fish.

As you approach, Zayne looks up, and his forest eyes soften at the vision of you. Smile quirking cool lips. “Darling, have you enjoyed yourself?”

He’s warm, and familiar, and safe. Like a hearth. The irony of the cold skin, versus how heated he makes you feel, is something. As you take his extended hand, thumb brushing over your skin, you settle against his side while Thomas finishes up.

“It’s nice, seeing everyone.” You offer, “Seeing everyone moving forwards for the new year.” You trace the skin under his eyes with your fingertip, down to his mouth. He gasps a little, a puff of breath against the cool metal, before taking your wandering fingers in his own.

“Seeing some of you relaxed, is also quite pleasant.” You tease, bumping him with your hip. His laugh is a soft noise, that settles in your chest. Cool around your frantic heart.

“Our little family has behaved themselves, I haven’t had to put out any fires. It’s allowed for the relaxation.”

“You mother hen.”

Thomas stands up, brushing his hands on his trousers and grinning over at you, “Hey Mx Bodyguard. We’re all done here finally. Has Rafayel gotten everyone drunk yet?”

“He’s trying, I think his plan is going well, while we’re all unconscious he’ll achieve world domination.”

Zayne tenses, releasing your metal hand to rub at the space between his eyes, “The feeling of dread has returned.”

“I’m sure he’ll find some place for us in his new kingdom.”

“You’d make a good jester, Zayne.”

“It’s getting worse.” Your doctor frowns, tugging at your hand to glare unserious eyes at you as you fight the urge to laugh, the quirk to your lips too obvious to him.

Thomas extends the box of sparklers to you, “We can use these later, after watching the show.”

Zayne looks down at what they’ve worked on as the three of you move away, back to the party. He’s often hard to read, but you can see the nerves in him, the worry he hasn’t done it right. So you squeeze his cold hand in your warmer one, and lean against his shoulder, “It’ll be great. Even if the fireworks sputter, we’ll have memories.”

His worries soothe, and he smiles, “Have to take some photos for that album of yours.”

“‘Newdawn Day, we watched some very sad fireworks, then played games for hours’.” You poke him in the side using your joined hands.

“You’ll have to sleep at some point.”

Thomas laughs, “You’re just as bad as Rafayel then?”

“I am not.”

“When did you last get a full 7 hours, darling?” Zayne raises his brow, you want to grumble and argue, but he knows you too well. You rarely sleep well. You rarely get a good amount of sleep.

The nightmares are getting a little better, a little, but there’s never enough time to get rest in-between all the other things you need to do.

“No wonder whenever I check on you two in the studio, you look like two feral cats.”

“Hey, don’t let Raffy hear you call him a cat, he’ll sulk again.”

Zayne’s hand in yours, entwines your fingers, squeezing, loosening, squeezing again. Over and over again. Like he’s using your hand as a stim toy. Or perhaps he’s offering you a grounding physical sensation.

Either way, you squeeze back.

It’s dark now, and there are lanterns set around the area. It’s a vision. Everyone has gathered back in the centre, drinks in hands, sitting in the grass, staring up at the sky.

You can hear laughter, chatter and the occasional too loud voice calling out excitedly.

Jeremiah sits with Greyson, drinking, and chatting, while Yvonne, Tara and Simone have begun clinking glasses together before each sip. Nero is lay down next to the three pointing out stars to them, while Xavier adds additional trivia about the constellations. Thomas walks ahead to sit near where the twins are throwing food into each others mouths, and occasionally at the back of Sylus’ head. Who is holding back the urge to pick them up with his EVOL.

Raffy’s cheeks are bright red, but resting his head in Sylus’ lap, trying not to spill his drink down himself. Xavier is lay next to him, an eye-mask pushed to the top of his head, but now that his work is done, he looks close to drifting off.

Zayne hands you the little remote, that controls the final event of the evening, “When you’re ready.”

You tug his hand, pulling him with you into the little gathering of your partners and friends. Shoving yourself against the heat of Sylus’ side, who chuckles and wraps an arm around your shoulder, to flick a bit of Zayne’s hair out of his eyes. Before pulling you closer.

Then tug the doctor down next to you. You think you’re smiling. You’re pretty sure you are.

It’s more familiar on your face than it ever used to be, and it’s something you hope becomes as familiar as the heart stuttering in your chest.

“Ready?” You call out, to a cheer of assent, and with a single press of the button, and love surrounding you. The sky is lit up with blossoming flowers.

“Happy Newdawn day!”

There’s a moment of quiet, when you step away from the party, a sparkler in your hand. You spell out names as you walk further out, not too far that you can’t hear everyone, but far enough that no one needs to see the tears lurking in your eyes.

Newdawn reminds you of everything you’ve gained, and everything you’ve lost…

Pulling your phone out, you open his messages. Unread messages fill the screen. Reminding you he’s not there…

Still, you can’t help but send him another one. Maybe, somewhere he’ll hear you.

Maybe wherever he is, he’s happy.

When your sparkler is dead, and your messages sent, you take in a deep inhale. Clearing the shadows from your heart, and turn back to where twinkling lights summon you home. Eyes are turned to you, green, red, blue and pink, and you feel their gazes pulling you back. Where you belong, where you’re safe, no matter what else comes after you.

So you follow their call, like they’re a siren song, willingly and joyfully. Ready to follow them to the depths of the ocean if you have to.

And as you do, for a small moment, you feel the phone in your pocket vibrate.

🍎 partner in crime 🍎: Hey Pipsqueak. Happy Newdawn day.

[ros64]

OK, here's the excerpt I mentioned yesterday. (For those who may not have read GO TELL THE BEES or don't remember, "Wounded Lady" is the name of a blue spring, high in the mountain above the Frasers' New House. We left everyone at the wedding festivities for Bobby Higgins and Silvia Hardman at the end of BEES, and this is the morning after.

[EXCERPT from BOOK TEN (Untitled), Copyright 2025 Diana Gabaldon]

[Spoiler Alert - well, frankly, any excerpts you read from this book will contain spoilers, but there are always a few people who don't realize that and become disgruntled (isn't that a neat word? <g>) - anyway, at the end of GO TELL THE BEES THAT I AM GONE, William arrives suddenly at Fraser's Ridge, and tells Jamie, "Sir, I need your help." Indeed he does...]

Jamie made it as far as Wounded Lady, where he called to the dog and sat down on the big stone, more abruptly than he’d intended.

“_A Màthair Dhè_.” He sat still and breathed for a bit, his knee throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He’d escaped the house before Claire discovered that he was walking about unencumbered by splints or bandages—and without a stick, forbye. He should have brought a stick, and wished he had, but he’d been feeling feisty, impatient with infirmity.

“Aye, well, I admit it’s no as bad as bein’ crucified,” he said apologetically, addressing the Mother of God whom he’d just invoked. “Besides, it’ll be horseback for the most part, it’ll be fine,” he muttered unconvincingly to himself, and grasping the paper-white trunk of the big aspen, hauled himself to his feet, whistled to the dog, clenched his teeth, and set off up the mountain, wondering why the devil he hadn’t given Young Ian land closer to the Big House.

Occupied with the pain in his knee, he hadn’t been looking out for the lad, and was surprised to come in hail of the cabin and find Rachel alone. She _had_ been looking out for Young Ian, and for some time; that much was clear from the anxious look of her, which increased when she saw Jamie and Skennen.

“Down, beast,” she said to the puppy, who paid no attention. “Has thee met Ian on the trail?” she asked.

Jamie shook his head, slightly disquieted.

“I didna see hide nor hair of him, anywhere between New House and here, lass. Nor yet the lads,” he added, forestalling her next question. “_Sàmhchair, a cù_,” he added to Skennen, who considered whether to heed this command for half a second, and then subsided meekly, lying down at Rachel’s feet.

“Why does he not do that when I tell him to?” she demanded of Jamie. “I speak to him in what I am sure is the Gaelic, and he merely laughs at me.” Skennen widened his doggy grin, tongue lolling out as though in appreciation of the joke.

“He doesna think ye mean it,” Jamie said, giving the dog a firm look. “And he kens I do. Don’t ye, _a cù_? ” He toed the dog gently in the ribs, whereupon Skennen rolled onto his back, barked and pawed the air, tail madly wagging.

Rachel cleared her throat.

“Will thee have some buttermilk, Jamie? Or perhaps some garlic pickles?”

He was beginning to be hungry from the climb, but declined the kind offer in favor of a cup of cold water, and likewise declined Rachel’s offer of her rocking chair, lowering himself carefully onto the edge of the porch.

“Sit, lass,” he said, noticing the rush basket. “I’ll finish the peas for ye.”

She laughed, sat down, and pushed the yellow bowl toward him with her bare foot.

“How does one say, ‘like father, like son’ in the Gaelic?”

“Ye don’t, usually, but ye might say, “_coltach ri dà phòna ann am pod_”. ‘Like as twa peas in a pod.’ Have ye seen William, then?” He didn’t look up at her, but pressed the seam of the pod with his thumbnail, and scooped the peas out with a practiced flick.

“I have. He told me something of his situation—and that of...John Grey...” He caught the momentary hesitation in her voice and looked at her sharply. She raised one dark brow. “I suppose thee has come to tell me more?”

Jamie told her. Everything, after a moment’s hesitation. Rachel was well aware of William’s paternity already, and as the rest of the Ridge would shortly be similarly informed, there was nothing to hide. As to the shape of Lord John Grey’s personal circumstances…

“D’ye ken that his lordship is—” he began hesitantly.

“What is commonly known as a sodomite?” she interrupted. She’d brought out a stool and sat down upon it, by him. “Yes, or at least I supposed so. Denny told me he thought it was the case.”

“And how would your brother ken a thing like that?” Jamie asked, surprised. Granted, Denzell Hunter was a physician, but…

Rachel lifted a shoulder.

“For a time when we lived in Philadelphia, Denny had a…it sounds quite wrong to call it a friendship, because it was…well, it wasn’t.” She smiled at him. “He had an acquaintance, though, who was in the habit of visiting a nearby molly house; I imagine thee knows what that is? Of course thee does. Well, on one such occasion, the man was involved in a fight and was seriously injured—he was drunk, and lost his balance while attempting to strike another man, and fell face-first into a marble mantelpiece, breaking his nose, three toes—he’d attempted to kick his opponent, but missed and kicked a rather solid oak table, which accident is what propelled him toward the mantelpiece—and his left arm, which was broken and also rather singed and blistered, as there happened to be a fire going when he knocked himself insensible on the mantelpiece and fell into the hearth.”

“Oh. Aye?”

“Aye, indeed,” she assured him. “His…I suppose you would call them friends?”

“Aye, well, common interests…” Jamie muttered. His face felt warm.

“Indeed. His friends, then, sent for Denny, who came and re-assembled his acquaintance’s nose, set his arm and taped his toes. This so impressed all the onlookers—which included the house’s proprietor—that Denny became the _de facto_ physician for them all.”

Jamie was—against his will—fascinated.

“Did…you…?” He began, then broke off.

“I never accompanied Denny to the house,” she assured him. “But a number of the…patrons?...would call upon us, in time of need. I have met several slightly damaged sodomites. They are, on the whole, much like other men.”

“Aside from—”

“Well, yes. Hence, I gather, the danger to his lordship. I take it thee means that the man holding him is not merely physically restraining him, but also threatens his…”

“His life,” Jamie finished. His voice was gruff and he cleared his throat. “In all respects.”

She nodded, her face troubled.

“What will thee do?”

Jamie sat up and stretched his back, cautiously straightening his legs as he did so.

“Aye, that’s the question we’ve been wrestling wi’, as soon as we heard what William had to say. The first thing, o’course, is to find John Grey and get him free.”

“I fear that getting him free may be the easier part.”

“So do I, lass.”

His knee had stopped feeling as though it was being repeatedly stabbed with a pen-knife, but it was still throbbing, in time with his heartbeat. He didn’t touch it, but gave it a surreptitious glance, along with its fellow. The bad one had turned a sort of purplish-red, like a ripe plum None so bad.

“We’ve the two things, to start with,” he said. “Shipping ports and a man named Denys Randall.”

Rachel’s dark brows lifted.

“I—we, that is—know a man named Denys Randall,” she said. “Does thee think there could be two of them?”

“I don’t, ” Jamie said, startled. “but just to be sure—is the one you and Denny ken a soldier? And is he known sometimes as Denys Randall-Isaacs?"

She stared at him for a moment, her hand resting gently on her belly.

“Yes,” she said slowly, “and yes. He is and he is.”

She might have said more, but a shout from the path brought her at once to her feet.

“_Mama! Mama!_”

Jamie stood up at once, gesturing her back.

“Sit, lass, I’ll see to it.”

She gave him a quick glance and a raised brow that suggested he surely knew better.

“That’s Totis,” she said, her foot already on the top step. “Something’s wrong.

[BRANO tratto da LIBRO DIECI (Senza Titolo), Copyright 2025 Diana Gabaldon]

[Spoiler Alert - beh, francamente, ogni estratto di questo libro conterrà spoiler, ma ci sono sempre alcune persone che non se ne rendono conto e si lamentano (non è una parola interessante? ) - comunque, alla fine di GO TELL THE BEES THAT I AM GONE, William arriva improvvisamente a Fraser’s Ridge e dice a Jamie: “Signore, ho bisogno del suo aiuto.” E in effetti ne ha bisogno…]

Jamie arrivò fino a Wounded Lady, dove chiamò il cane e si sedette sulla grande pietra, più bruscamente di quanto avesse inteso.

“A Màthair Dhè.” Rimase seduto immobile e respirò un po’, il ginocchio che pulsava al ritmo del suo battito cardiaco. Era uscito di casa prima che Claire si accorgesse che stava camminando senza stecche, fasciature o anche solo un bastone. Avrebbe dovuto portare un bastone, e avrebbe voluto averlo, ma si sentiva combattivo, impaziente di guarire.

“Beh, ammetto che non è grave come essere crocifisso,” disse con tono di scusa, rivolgendosi alla Madre di Dio che aveva appena invocato. “E poi, starò a cavallo per la maggior parte del tempo, andrà bene,” borbottò poco convinto tra sé, e afferrando il tronco bianco dell’aspen, si tirò in piedi, fischiò al cane, serrò i denti e si avviò su per la montagna, chiedendosi perché mai non avesse dato a Young Ian un appezzamento di terra più vicino alla Casa Grande.

Concentrato sul dolore al ginocchio, non aveva notato il ragazzo, e rimase sorpreso di arrivare in vista della capanna e trovare Rachel da sola. Lei stava aspettando da un po’ l’arrivo di Ian; era chiaro dall’espressione preoccupata che si fece più intensa quando vide Jamie e Skennen.

“Giù, bestia,” disse al cucciolo, che non le diede ascolto. “Hai incontrato Ian lungo il sentiero?” gli chiese.

Jamie scosse la testa, leggermente inquieto.

“Non l’ho visto, né lui né i ragazzi, tra la casa nuova e qui, ragazza.” Fece una pausa per anticipare la sua prossima domanda. “Sàmhchair, a cù,” aggiunse rivolto a Skennen, che valutò per un istante se obbedire, poi si sdraiò docilmente ai piedi di Rachel.

“Perché non fa lo stesso con me quando glielo dico?” chiese a Jamie. “Gli parlo in quella che sono sicura sia la lingua gaelica, e lui ride di me.”

Skennen allargò il suo sorriso da cane, la lingua che sporgeva come per apprezzare la battuta.

“Non pensa che tu faccia sul serio,” rispose Jamie, dando al cane uno sguardo fermo. “E sa che io lo faccio. Vero, a cù?” Lo toccò delicatamente con il piede nei fianchi, e Skennen si rotolò sulla schiena, abbaiando e scalciando l’aria con entusiasmo, la coda che batteva furiosamente.

Rachel schiarì la voce.

“Vuoi un po’ di latticello, Jamie? O forse dei cetrioli sottaceto?”

Jamie rifiutò gentilmente, preferendo un bicchiere d’acqua fresca, e declinò anche l’offerta della sedia a dondolo, sedendosi invece con cautela sul bordo del portico.

“Sediti, ragazza,” disse, notando il cesto di vimini. “Finirò io i piselli per te.”

Rachel rise, si sedette e spinse la ciotola gialla verso di lui con il piede nudo.

“Come si dice ‘tale padre, tale figlio’ in gaelico?”

“Non lo si dice spesso, ma potresti dire coltach ri dà phòna ann am pod, ‘simili a due piselli in un baccello.’ Hai visto William, allora?” Non la guardò, ma premette la cucitura del baccello con l’unghia del pollice, facendo uscire i piselli con un movimento abile.

“L’ho visto. Mi ha raccontato qualcosa della sua situazione—e di quella di…John Grey…” Colse l’esitazione momentanea nella sua voce e la guardò con attenzione. Lei sollevò un sopracciglio scuro. “Suppongo che tu sia venuto a dirmi di più?”

Jamie le raccontò tutto. Dopo un momento di esitazione. Rachel era già consapevole della paternità di William, e dato che presto tutto il resto di Fraser’s Ridge lo avrebbe saputo, non c’era nulla da nascondere. Quanto alla situazione personale di Lord John Grey…

“Sai che sua signoria è—” iniziò esitante.

“Quello che comunemente si definisce un sodomita?” lo interruppe. Aveva tirato fuori uno sgabello e vi si era seduta accanto a lui. “Sì, o almeno lo supponevo. Denny mi aveva detto che lo pensava.”

“E come farebbe tuo fratello a sapere una cosa del genere?” chiese Jamie, sorpreso. Certo, Denzell Hunter era un medico, ma…

Rachel sollevò una spalla.

“Per un periodo, quando vivevamo a Filadelfia, Denny aveva una…sembra sbagliato chiamarla un’amicizia, perché era…beh, non lo era.” Gli sorrise. “Aveva una conoscenza, però, che era solita frequentare una casa di molly; immagino che tu sappia cos’è? Certo che lo sai. Beh, in una di queste occasioni, l’uomo fu coinvolto in una rissa e rimase gravemente ferito—era ubriaco e perse l’equilibrio mentre tentava di colpire un altro uomo, cadendo con la faccia contro un camino di marmo, rompendosi il naso, tre dita dei piedi—aveva cercato di scalciare il suo avversario, ma aveva mancato il bersaglio e colpito un robusto tavolo di quercia, e quell’incidente lo aveva spinto verso il camino—e il braccio sinistro, che si era rotto ed era anche piuttosto bruciato e pieno di vesciche, dato che c’era un fuoco acceso quando perse i sensi e cadde nel focolare.”

“Oh. Aye?”

“Aye, davvero,” gli assicurò. “I suoi…suppongo li chiameresti amici?”

“Beh, interessi comuni…” Jamie mormorò. Sentiva il viso caldo.

“Esattamente. I suoi amici, dunque, mandarono a chiamare Denny, che venne e gli rimise a posto il naso, gli sistemò il braccio e gli fasciò le dita dei piedi. Questo impressionò così tanto tutti i presenti—incluso il proprietario della casa—che Denny divenne il medico de facto per tutti loro.”

Jamie era—suo malgrado—affascinato.

“E…tu…?” Cominciò, poi si fermò.

“Non ho mai accompagnato Denny nella casa,” lo rassicurò. “Ma diversi…clienti?…venivano da noi, in caso di bisogno. Ho conosciuto diversi sodomiti leggermente danneggiati. Sono, nel complesso, molto simili agli altri uomini.”

“A parte—”

“Beh, sì. Da qui, immagino, il pericolo per sua signoria. Suppongo che tu intenda dire che l’uomo che lo tiene prigioniero non si limita a trattenerlo fisicamente, ma minaccia anche…”

“La sua vita,” completò Jamie. La sua voce era roca e si schiarì la gola. “In ogni senso.”

Lei annuì, con il viso turbato.

“Che cosa pensi di fare?”

Jamie si raddrizzò e si stirò la schiena, raddrizzando cautamente le gambe.

“Già, è questa la domanda con cui ci stiamo battendo da quando abbiamo sentito quello che William aveva da dire. La prima cosa, ovviamente, è trovare John Grey e liberarlo.”

“Temo che liberarlo possa essere la parte più semplice.”

“Anche io, ragazza.”

Il ginocchio aveva smesso di sembrargli pugnalato ripetutamente con un coltellino, ma pulsava ancora, seguendo il ritmo del suo battito cardiaco. Non lo toccò, ma gli diede uno sguardo furtivo, insieme all’altro ginocchio. Quello malandato era diventato una sorta di rosso violaceo, come una prugna matura. Niente di grave.

“Abbiamo due cose, per cominciare,” disse. “I porti di mare e un uomo chiamato Denys Randall.”

Le sopracciglia scure di Rachel si alzarono.

“Io—noi, cioè—conosciamo un uomo chiamato Denys Randall,” disse. “Pensi che possano essercene due?”

“Non lo penso,” rispose Jamie, sorpreso. “Ma, giusto per essere sicuri—quello che conosci tu e Denny è un soldato? Ed è noto a volte come Denys Randall-Isaacs?”

Lo fissò per un momento, con una mano posata delicatamente sul ventre.

“Sì,” disse lentamente, “e sì. È lui.”

Avrebbe forse detto di più, ma un grido proveniente dal sentiero la fece alzare in piedi di scatto.

“Mama! Mama!”

Jamie si alzò immediatamente, facendole cenno di fermarsi.

“Resta seduta, ragazza, ci penso io.”

Lei gli lanciò uno sguardo rapido e un sopracciglio alzato che suggerivano che lui sicuramente sapeva meglio.

“È Totis,” disse, già con un piede sul gradino più alto. “Qualcosa non va.”

[likealayka]

It's the season of after work bar and coffee shop chill and I'm getting one hell of a fomo ngl so I'm going to rant it off my shoulders here on hellsite dot com!

Like sorry for having strange metabolism, it comes with a side of constant horny and hair everywhere, but I'm so tired of trying to explain to different people that they shouldn't try and figure out how many drinks I need to have to be like... Unstable and slurry and unhinged or something. Bbgrl I'm those things already it's called anxiety, no need to make me throw up also 🗿

Good things are present too, thankfully - tried lots of delicious cocktails, channeling my inner Patti Lupone Joanne Company;

The bestest ever thing is rather silly - all of these gatherings are a good chance of people around me to loosen up - they keep tiredly admitting to their queer tendencies and gods, it feels so good to be able to share things irl - especially after all of the government laws treating us like we're literal t*rrorists (hate it here)

We need go develop secret museum queer handshake for 2025 lads

Anyway! Hope the end of the year is treating you all kindly, because I'm hugging each and every one of you and giving you homemade food and shoulder massage and a cooling face mask and such!

And a special thanks to all of the Patti girlies (gender neutral) for indulging my special interest and thirsting with me! It's a pleasure seeing you comment and reblog and add tags - don't hesitate to tag me in things and ask me all of your questions, mwah!

[lululawrence]

2025 TBR

I was tagged by @allwaswell16 and @haztobegood to list my 2025 books to be read! Now, I am admittedly horrible when it comes to reading published fiction these days, but these are books I've been holding onto and wanting to read actively, so I really do want to try to read them this year as I have the opportunity!

So, my girl @briannamarguerite is just one of the most beautiful writers out there, genuinely! And I started reading the Librarian of Burned Books as soon as it came out and I was LOVING IT, but then the holiday season happened that year and... it was a really bad fall for me mental health wise... and I never did pick the book back up again despite literally carrying it with me almost everywhere I go since then (the book is so ragged by now because of this, it's ridiculous). Anyway, I gifted it to my sister for Christmas last month, and she is insisting that she will read this at the same time as me, and same with the Lost Book of Bonn. That worked really well with some books last year, so I'm hoping that's just the push I needed to get back into the Librarian of Burned Books and to read the Lost Book of Bonn as well :D

So I've actually LISTENED to the audiobook of Soft Lad almost three times through now because it's a comfort book for me in that way, but the audiobook was a bit abridged. Now, I own a signed copy of it, and that along with How to Kill Your Family have been sitting at the head of my bed for over a year now, just waiting for me to pick them up. So. I'm really hoping that this year is the year for both of them. I want to see what is in the printed book that wasn't in the audiobook! And Bella is a fantastically evocative writer, so I'm really excited to finally be able to delve into her fiction too.

These last two, I debated whether I should count and ultimately decided I should lololol So, the 8 volumes of the Unselected Journals of Emma M Lion by Beth Brower? I read the first seven of those books all in September last year lol like... over the course of a week and a half or two weeks. Which is obscenely fast for me these days, and they reawakened my love of printed fiction. Reminded me I can feel just as passionate about published fiction as I do about fic. I've been wanting to reread them ever since I read through them in September, especially since book 8 came out at the end of November, so I read that in December and early January haha but I do plan to read all 8 of them again this year once my sister has the last four books back to me lol And along with that, I don't have The Boxcar Librarian just yet, but I do plan to own that as well and when I do it will be on the list with the others.

So there we are. My likely incredibly unrealistic for me TBR for 2025!

And now I'm meant to tag people, but I don't even know who to tag, sooooo @laynefaire @londonfoginacup @crinkle-eyed-boo @evilovesyou @louandhazaf aaaaand @moon-sun-thyme in case you read published fiction, what's on your TBR for 2025?

[merinsedai]

Rooftops of London snippet 3

for @dreamlingbingo

Snippet 3/5 for my WIP: The Rooftops of London :)

Square/Prompt: D5: Accidental Marriage (plus adoptable prompt: Creature: Veela)

Title: The Rooftops of London

Rating: T

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Warnings: n/a

Additional Tags: Second Chance, Mary Poppins AU, yes you read that correctly, Dream is Mary Poppins, Hob is Bert, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus is Good with Kids, popping in and out of paintings, teaparties on the ceiling, Developing Relationships, potential flying of kites, Will Roderick Burgess be redeemed? Is it possible? Who knows, read on and find out, fat pigeons

Summary: In 2025, Dream awaits Death as the Kindly Ones ravage the Dreaming.

In 1910, two young boys send out an advertisement for their perfect nanny.

or, the tale of Dream attempting to Mary Poppins his way out of his 20th century nightmare

Read the first chapter on AO3 here

And snippet 1 here

And snippet 2 here

A scene from Chapter (??no idea anymore), where something has gone a bit wrong for Hob.

“Perhaps a briefing on Veela etiquette would have been helpful?” Hob hisses as he scurries along in Morpheus’s wake, glancing fearfully back behind him every few steps. Morpheus floats along serenely ahead of him, seemingly completely unconcerned by this rather unfortunate turn of events. Alex’s hand is held securely in one of his and the little boy is skipping along singing snatches of that blasted song. Randall is shuffling along behind them, sulking in the way only a pubescent boy can. Well, one who has just had his first instructive lesson on the fairer sex brutally curtailed, at least. Another time, Hob would have a lot of sympathy for the lad.  Not right now, however. 

“I did not think it necessary,” Morpheus replies, glancing behind him. Alex has begun fully swinging off his arm now, leaning precariously to the side so his free hand is able to trail through the dew-slicked purple grass, eliciting giggles of “ooh it’s sticky”. Anyone else of Morpheus’s build would have been sent staggering to the side by the virtual gymnastics going on, maybe even risking a wrenched shoulder. Morpheus just continues walking like it’s nothing. Not that Hob thinks that his… companion would ever deign to do anything so ungraceful as to stagger. Or even run… and Hob is feeling like running might be required here soon.

“Not necessary?” he gasps, quickening his steps a little to draw alongside Morpheus.

“No indeed, as a wise man of the world, I assumed you to be cognisant of the fact that one does not accept gifts from the fae.”

“Fae? You didn’t say they were fae! You said they were Veela!”

“Veelas are fae,” Morpheus continues, as if Hob should have known this very important fact, despite having never heard of a Veela until about two hours ago. “And especially never say thank you: you are now in her debt.”

“Oh come on! Her debt? She just handed me the thing! We were having a dinner party! How was I to know it was a gift! A blo–” he catches the curse before it finishes leaving his mouth. Little ears after all. “A piece of fruit!”

“More precisely: a pomegranate.”

“So?!”

Morpheus tsks and gives Hob a look out of the corner of his eye. “And here I thought you had been a student of the classics, Hob?” There is a twitch to his lips that speaks of suppressed amusement, and if Hob didn’t like him so much then he may quite happily have punched the other man for letting them get into this situation. 

“What’s a pommy-granit?” Alex sings songs, still swinging like a monkey. His hand glitters with the dew and he waves it in front of his face. “Look Morpheus, it’s so sticky, it’s not coming off!”

“A pomegranate’s a fruit, stupid,” mutters Randall sullenly. He really is put out at this hasty exit, though not nearly as put out as the Veela girl to whom Hob now seems to be betrothed, judging by the shrieking behind them that seems to be growing ever nearer. Morpheus simply looks at the boy though, and Randall blushes bright red to the roots of his hair. 

“Your brother is correct, Alex,” Morpheus says quietly to the younger boy. “But to certain societies it is both a fruit and a symbol. In this case, the pomegranate is a symbol of marriage.”

“So Hob’s getting married?” Alex asks offhandedly, still more interested in his sparkly fingers than the situation. Hob grimaces.

“I am not-” he begins hurriedly but Morpheus speaks over him.

“Oh no,” he says casually, and this time there is a definite smile on his face. One might even describe it as a highly amused smile. “Veela do not do betrothals and courtship. Hob is not getting married. He already is married.”

[starmocha]

Some of my favorite messages from 2024 💖💖💖

Gonna get real personal and weird and sappy under the cut, so here's a short version of my NYE message to everyone who sees this post:

TL;DR: Thank you so much to everyone who's ever interacted with me this year, whether it was through random asks or interacting with my stories. Many of you have been some of the better parts of my 2024, and I am happy to be a part of the LADS community we have built here. Wishing you all good health, happiness, and cheering you all on in your personal endeavors for the future. Hope you all stick around a little longer. I really like a lot of you 🥹💖

Sappy yappy time 🧍‍♀️

It's no secret that the last three years of my life has been my lowest point, especially 2023 through half of 2024 when I've been designated as the go-to person to handle simultaneously four major family crises that had robbed me essentially 1.5 years of my life. My mental health had taken a nosedive, and I was still functioning more like a zombie well into the first few months of 2024.

When I say LADS had probably saved me, it's not an exaggeration. I won't go into too much detail, but I am grateful to the community here. I've found joy in past hobbies again (mainly writing), and I have enjoyed meeting and interacting with so many of you. Many of you probably don't even know that you have contributed to helping me regain my past self again. I'm probably the happiest I've been in years. Thank you 💖💖💖

My go-to tip to new writers has always been to write for yourself. Write the stories that you want to read (and do read afterwards!), and I practice what I preach. After all, who else is gonna write Sylus getting cockblocked by Mephisto if not me 😈 or the questionable number of Sylus breeding kink fics.........

So many of you have shared with me on both tumblr and AO3 that you find my stories comforting and that you reread them often, especially on your bad days. I feel honored that I can help make your days a little brighter through my writings and my stories. These are some of the highest praises I could ever receive. I have so many stories planned for 2025, and I'm so excited to share with you all! Thank you for your continuous support 🥺🫶

And to everyone who has come to view me as a friend, an older sister figure, a comfort person/blog, a safe space, I am more than happy to accept whatever title you have given me! My blog will always be a safe space for you to share your thoughts as long as they're not harmful and/or hateful. So feel free to yap away in my ask box, share your day, brainrot with me, drop your horniest thoughts for me to wake up to (lolllll the number of times that has happened.... 😭😭😭), this is a judge-free zone and high key, I've probably posted worse things than you could ever share with me 💀👍

Thank you again for the influx of birthday wishes earlier this month. I was so shocked by how many of you thought of me that day 🥹 and thank you to the anons who checked in on me last week while I was coping with a trauma anniversary. You will never understand how touched I was by your concerns, but please accept my virtual hug 🫂🫂🫂

If you have read through all of this, sending you lots of love, wishing you good health in 2025, and however big or small your goals for 2025 are, I will be your personal cheerleader and hype you up <33333 and also

✨️✨️✨️may your blorbos always come home in 10 pulls✨️✨️✨️

I like you all. Hope you'll stick around in 2025 with me 🥹💖

[jikookficsdiarry]

LOVES IT'S AYS DAY TOMORROW!! PARTY PARTY YEAH🤍🥹

Okay, I know I'm really late, but I just had to express my thoughts about episode 5 real quick :)

This vminkook moment right here is my HAPPINESSS!!!

Look at these adorable cutiessss!! My whole heart🥹🤍 like I just wanna put them in my pocket and protect them forever:(

So umm yeah what goes on?!! Jikook match each other's freak for sure!!

The epitome of beautiful, jiminie and kookie🤍

I remember seeing this vmin picture and instantly sending it to my best friend, she responded saying you will always be my passenger princess🥹 yes I teared up:( this moment of jiminie waking up taebear was honestly so adorable...

Sometimes I wonder how my heart is always happy and its because of jikook and their playfulness🥹🤍 we saw that wink kookieeee, it might not be in 4k but we still saw ittt!

This cuddle session...omdsss the CUTEST heartwarming moment everrrr pleasee!!🥹🤍

"Its's just a picture, why are you crying?"

This right here lads.🤍

Need I say more??

Like do you see their adorable pouts🥹🤍 the way my heart was just doing catapults throughout the epsiode sidbdjkrkf🤍

Now let's focus on this moment shall we? Personally this was my favourite moment in the whole episode! If you follow my posts I was (still am) really nervous and anxious about MS being mentioned in AYS. These past couple of years with BTS enlisting has been hard on me, the reason being I have grown up with them by myside. For someone who has had to leave and and move to different countries constantly leaving friends and family behind, I have learnt to say goodbye a little too much. To the memories, the relationships and so much more. One constant thing that remained with me and never changed was Bangtan. (Idk if im making sense but I really hope i am)

I know it's just military service and they are gonna come back, just like jin did and hobi will next month🥹 but I will never truly be able to explain the void in my chest that still persists as I eagerly wait for 2025 when they are all together. It hurts when you have to be apart from the people you love, I know exactly how it feels. So yes, I was concerned about kookie and minie not seeing each other for almost 2 years. Some might think I am exaggerating, some might understand exactly how I feel and tbh I totally understand each ones view, but when I say there 2 years have been hard it truly has been. Yes, I do get nervous and anxious when MS is bought up and this right here bought me so much ease and comfort, like I cried happy tears🥹 to know that kookie and jiminie were enlisting together and they made the same face (you really need to spend a lot of time with that person to know exactly what expression the other is going to make) and them expressly denying in a second that they would never fight, it touched my heartstrings you'll. 🥹🤍 I love these two so much🥹🤍

Also tae bear magically appearing and disappearing is beyond comprehensible to me.🤭

Sorry to get all serious, but yeah I just wanted to say that jikook always find a way to heal my heart and provide me happiness and comfort, cause I was so elated watching this epsiode it made me forget my worries honestly🤍

AND YESS LESS THAN 24 HOURS AND WE GET TO SEE OUR BUBBAS IN SAPPORO🤍🥹

Cant wait to see kookie and jiminie have the best time together🤍🥹

Are you sure?! You will always be our serotonin🤍 thank you

~ Nel🤍

[thedreadvampy]

fuck me so the migration bill passed in Commons yesterday.

still gotta go through Lords so it MIGHT get slightly defanged but let's look at how well that worked for the Police, Crime and Sentencing Bill last year which passed into law despite native public outrcy with most of its anti-protest and all of its anti-Traveller clauses intact. and there's not been nearly the same degree of concerted protest against this one yet.

in a bid to """""""stop the small boats"""""", the bill will:

Override the rights enshrined in international law to seek asylum, instead prioritising the Home Office's new legal duty to deport any undocumented migrant to concentration camps in Rwanda. yes I said concentration camps they are mass internment camps for a specific group of people to be incarcerated indefinitely without trial. that is what a concentration camp is. here's home secretary Suella Braverman laughing in front of the "estate" built in Rwanda to house deported asylum seekers

allow for indefinite detention of children suspected of being undocumented until they can be removed to the Rwanda camps. Tory rebels said 'could we not have to review that after 3 days to justify their detention?' and the Tory government said 'no but if we pass the bill we pinky promise that we'll think about maybe adding in an indefinite review period at some point' so it passed.

remove temporary protections allowing people claiming they've been trafficked as slaves to stay in the UK while their case is reviewed, and to recieve some support and leniency if it's found that they are Literally Here As Slaves. that's off the table in this bill, if you get trafficked to Britain as a slave who give a shit it's off to Rwanda with you buddy. even former PM Theresa "We Have To Create A Really Hostile Environment For Immigrants" May was like hey steady on there lads. that is incredibly specifically going to make preventing modern slavery way harder because who the fuck is going to come forward and say "help I'm being enslaved and trapped against my will in bad conditions in an unfamiliar country" when the thing that the government will do with that information is trap you against your will in bad conditions in a different unfamiliar country? NOBODY IS GOING TO DO THAT meaning that victims will be penalised in law for being victimised and traffickers will face even fewer consequences. which to be fair is the Tory playbook.

it's fucked. it's fucked and I feel so sick about it and so afraid of how overtly fascistic and genocidal this government continues to get.

meanwhile their new voter ID laws are in place and they've already been caught lying to voters in high-opposition areas by sending out flyers from party HQ claiming you don't need ID to vote. which you now do.

it's very bad lads. it's very very very very bad.

in the past 24 months we've seen a constant flow of legislation targeting Gypsy/Roma/Traveler communities, migrants, LGBTQ+ people (particularly trans people), disabled and chronically ill people, and protesters and dissidents. meanwhile we're in our biggest cost of living crisis in 45+ years, protections for the poor are being stripped and national services are being privatised.

the best case interpretation as far as I can see is that they expect to be ousted in the next General Election (but that isn't until 2025) and are getting everything they want to do in terms of attacking human rights and wellbeing as far as possible so that the next government will struggle to roll them all the way back

the thing is though that Labour are just nodding along with all these policies and are in the process of aggressively removing the remainder of open leftists from the party's core power structure, having already removed the ordinary membership's ability to guide party leadership or policy, and the SNP, which has often lately been the only meaningful opposition party in Westminster, is in freefall and on fire over an embezzlement and corruption scandal. that plus the voter suppression laws and control over media that the government are wielding FEELS A LOT LIKE even if we make it to the 2025 election we might still get another Tory term.

Winter of Discontent...2!!!! has been something of a damp squib - there have been widespread strikes but little obvious impact. this winter felt like the time things were gonna snap but I'm just not sure we're ever gonna snap hard enough.

Idk I feel sick as a fucking dog. I don't know what to do. If anyone knows of any ways to help (in Edinburgh, I can't travel easily out of the city) with the Migration Bill situation or with stuff more broadly, hmu. I'm pretty well tuned in on trans rights and abortion rights protests but I don't have connects for most other stuff.

[wrestlezon]

finally caught up on the jan 15 dynamite and (most of) the jan 18 collision just in time to miss todays dynamite. heres some notes

on dynamite they played SO much footage of ospreay and omega writhing in the ring and ricochet was really drawing out his promo. idk if the latter was just him idly collecting heat but damn did it feel like they were trying to fill time

jericho's new york minute segment had him calling cash wheeler "a kneeler" and then specified he meant as if hes "kneeling to the king of new york (me) (jericho)" but we know hes calling cash a blowjob boy. if only it wasnt jericho saying this. if only it wasnt about cash wheeler ftr. i could feel some sort of emotion about this

i cant believe copeland and ftr really had a video promo where they talked about how much they are friends and they love wrestling and they love wrestling with their friends and theyre gonna have such a good time because theyre all friends and theyre wrestling together. im not even exaggerating. this is getting the sims interaction minus-minus from me lads

mjf jeff jarrett promo had me zoning it out completely because it just started with mjf saying he wanted to fuck jarretts wife and jarrett calling mjfs mom a turbo slut or whatever for what felt like an eternity but upon a rewatch (yeesh) i paid more attention to the latter half which actually contained their motivations for fighting each other, and man what the fuck, couldnt you two just skip to the important (good?) stuff instead of wasting my time talking about how all the women in the other guys' lives are whores or w/e. is that so much to ask for

not like i can sexualize jeff fucking jarrett either way but its funny to imagine mjf being so down bad for old men that hes desperate enough to go for him regardless

i did laugh at dustin rhodes appearing to give jeff jarrett a pep talk, one old man to another

yayyy samoa joe yayyyyy yippieeeee (i missed him so much)

hey i liked that video promo between undisputed kingdom and danny garcia. it reminded me of the old "road to _____" vids they used to put on youtube. do they still do those. i miss them

i wasnt going to pay much attention to the mox vs hobbs match because idgaf BUT i saw mox blade his own ear and then hobbs bit at it twice and on the second time moxley turned his head to like almost deliriously kiss hobbs on the mouth like whoa thats crazy. if only i was a fan of moxleys gimmick rn (because i am not) (every one of moxley's badguy speeches slide right through my brain without activating a single neuron)

-

i enjoyed the hangman vs christopher daniels match. that was cool. i dont subscribe to the words people say on the internet anymore but if hes gonna retire thats a cool match to end on

had a hearty lmao @ tony schiavone being like "toni can you get real rn" about her and mariah may and then just utterly failing at getting a solid response from toni storm

i love kyle o'reilly hes so entertaining in the background of these promos. also yay!! angelo parker returns! 2point0 w/ their wrestleson garcia in a trios!! (honestly i never really thought about how its 2025 and theyre still using their jericho-given names. huh)

i also REALLY enjoyed the acclaimed segment. max caster is great at being an annoying whiny delusional bitchy failguy so im glad hes just rrrrrramping that up all the way. im amused by his antics (compared to the other recent failguy development around here, ricochet, who i think is just annoying in a not-fun way).

i hope bowens can succeed on his own (somehow). i liked the dynamic of caster semi-dragging him down and you cant really be a straightman in a vacuum, so im curious to see what he ends up doing

swerve's promo is so fucking good. "now ive been, cursed, with this ability where everything that my hands touch, dies. with that being said, i plan on using it when i get my hands around your throat." hes so cool. please kill ricochet

[astracora]

EVER's Tool - Chapter 2

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc (MC POV/Sylus POV/Zayne POV), Caleb x gn!mc

Warnings: Hurt/No Comfort, Angst, Talk of EVER Experiments and Torture, Violence, Gore, Spoilers for multiple anecdotes and all current story.

Word Count: 11028

Written: 28th January 2025

Notes: Established-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. This took me too long, and then Caleb was released, and then I fell into the pit. Anyway, here we go. Chapters for this are gonna be way slower cause for some reason I made em... longer??? I dunno why I did this but hey. Anyway, um... enjoy?

Now Playing: As We Fall, by League of Legends

Masterlist AO3

<- Previous

It is in one of the old labs, where Raincoat finds you later, as though he'd been looking for you.

He watches for a moment as you sit against a wall, hand extended out in front of you. Clenching the segmenting fingers, over and over. Trying to seek something out, you're just not sure what. Like there should be something there, grounding you.

"You good there?"

"Fine." You exhale, turning sharp eyes to him, as he raises his hands in mock defence.

"Hey, don't give me that look, I came to chat."

"I don't recall us being friends."

He bears a title like yours. You know that Raincoat is just a pseudonym, passed down. You don't know how many there have been, but he's certainly not the first. He definitely won't be the last. Until EVER no longer need killers at their beck and call, there will always be a Raincoat.

You do wonder, however, why they choose that name for his ilk. Was it a fashion favourite of the first one?

Easy to wipe blood off, you suppose.

You've never asked his name, you've never wanted to know. If anything happens, and he ends up on the list, it's easier if he's just another face. Someone whose history you don't know. Someone whose face gets lost in the static.

"Come on now, you're always such a grouch." He sits on the table in front of you, and that smug irritating smile ticks at the corner. It overlaps for a second, sharp canines, before it shatters. "I just wanted to ask if you'd dealt with the doctor yet."

"I don't fail my missions, Raincoat. Are you here just to ask stupid questions?"

"I told you, I came to chat. You're the most fun person to talk to in this place. Everyone else doesn't like bloody hands."

You snort despite yourself. You think of all the scientists with their sins on their shoulders, and the fear and dislike in their eyes when they see you or Raincoat. Like their torture is more palatable than your killing.

As though there aren't dead children in the shadows of EVER's growth.

"The feeling isn't mutual." You respond, but ease a little. Raincoat can't be trusted, he's manipulative, a trained liar, and he wants others to think him a fool. Still, if you keep an eye on his hands, you doubt you'll need to look too hard for a dagger coming.

Afterall, if you fail, someone like him will be sent for you, then after the doctor.

'Darling'

"Ouch, one day you'll want to talk to me."

"If that day comes, we have bigger problems to worry about."

He laughs but it's an empty, cool gesture. A feeling that holds no weight, that does not matter. Like so many feelings you experience in this place. Like everyone is behind a wall, and you're watching. Seeking something out. Something genuine.

"Look, I just wanted to know if you'd come across him yet-" Warm forest eyes, tears glimmering in them, wavering on the edge, "'cause I've run into him before."

"You have?"

"Yeah, they've had me keep an eye on him. Along with that scientist they keep sending to talk to him. Carl? Cartier? Whatever his name is, an old friend. I dunno why though, the guys never gonna convince Li to join."

You keep hearing it. He won't join, he won't join. Why wouldn't he join? Why would he suddenly join them now?

"What do you know about him?"

"Come on now, Unicorn, information is expensive."

You lean forwards, stretching claws out and glint sharp edges at the man, who raises his hands again. His laugh is still empty, but it verges on unsure. Like he isn't ready to test if you'll use it.

You don't want him to know you won't, not if you don't have to. Not unless the noose pulls around your throat.

"You really are their favourite hunting dog aren't you? Some people skills could go a long way."

"Like you? Smiling like a serpent in the grass? I don't need to lie to my targets. I just need to get rid of them."

"I bet holding your chain is a rough ride, do you often bite the hand that feeds you too?"

You want to cut his throat open, it is a clawing need at the bottom of your gut. Every EVER dog that pretends you're the only pet kept. Like he isn't aware that when his value runs dry, he will be put down, or left chained in a kennel in the cold until it claims him. You wonder if they're all so unaware of their lack of value. That a bottom line and a higher goal are all that matter. That whoever hands down your orders, is probably just as expendable.

You don't know what EVER want, they would never bother to tell you. You've heard stories, immortality and overwhelming power. You think it must be like every other organisation with more money and status than they know what to do with.

It is the knowledge that makes it easier. You have a job, when that job is over, you will finally be granted release from your chains. If it comes in the form of death, you think that will be more than you deserve.

"You can talk, or you can leave. You can also leave in chunks, that's your call." You snarl, pushing up from the ground, and walking past the man. Not before reaching out a claw and cutting through the end of his raincoat.

"Alright, alright." He sighs, looking down at his clothing, "Now I have to buy a new one."

"Don't you have like fifty of them? Why else would you have that stupid title?"

"I didn't pick it, did you pick Unicorn?"

No. You're waiting for the namesake to be accurate. Sword through your skull, quiet in your brain.

"And I know you didn't pick the other one-" This time you extend your dagger at him, pointed edge aiming for throat, teeth bared. Snarl burning through your throat. "Woah, I'm not gonna say it. I like my head attached."

You think of Leon as he purrs it at you, as he says it like you are his favourite doll. You think about the way you want to tear his head from his shoulders, to tear limb from limb, to watch him rot. Before you are removed from service, you will take the man with you. So that he can never turn your stomach or anyone else's again.

"Speak."

"I thought I wa- Ok, alright. Doctor Li isn't going to just roll over for EVER, whatever they're going to manipulate him with, it's big. I've seen him. He gives sweets to kids, eats most of them himself. One for you, two for me." Raincoat mimes, when he receives nothing but a raised brow, he continues, "He gets a sad look in his eyes whenever a cat runs away from him. I've seen him pull cat toys out of his pocket to try to get them to come over. Sometimes it works, sometimes… well. He gets real sad."

"So he's a soft heart, what does that matter? All hearts can break."

"He's moral. He abhors what Xander Science is doing, and he knows EVER owns them."

"I'm not hearing anything new."

You think about the man with the green eyes bending down in front of cats, extending his fingers, and frowning just slightly when the creature bolts. You think about him offering bonbons out of his pocket. You think about white lab coats and glasses pushed up as he smiles, as he tends to a jasmine.

There's something in your chest that stings and hurts in the cold. You think of frozen over petals, black ice and twisted shapes.

"He's living with three other people in a fancy house in Linkon."

That is new… Raincoat knows where he lives, but the information wasn't in the file?

"Where?"

"So I was right, they didn't tell you."

"What are you talking about?"

"No, nothing, just curious about the kind of information they give you, to let their favourite dog fulfill their hunt." You get the urge to sharpen your dagger on his bones. Chipping and carving through them.

The urge passes quickly enough, but the irritation at the smug smile does not. "They give me what I need to finish a job."

"No doubt about that, you have quite a record. I'll send you the address. You sure you want to go though? Taking someone from their home's quite a risk, maybe that's why they didn't share it. Easier to catch him coming out of work."

"I can catch him coming out of his home just as easily." It's not pride, or confidence. Not really. You fill your missions, you come home, you hand over a finished product. You are good at what you do. There is little doubt. It does not fill you with joy, to complete a job. It is simply to avoid punishment.

There are no fistbumps. No high-five. No congratulations…

No energetic voice telling you, you did good.

You aren't sure why you ever thought there would be.

"Alright." You watch Raincoat mess with his device for a moment, before he shrugs, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"If a warning from you would save me, I hav-"

"Bigger problems to worry about, I get it. Have you ever had friends?"

You don't bother answering him, leaving the room, twirling the dagger.

How would you even know? Years all lost to static, memories scattered to the winds. You were told the only person that mattered to you was Caleb, and if that's true… you cannot even remember him.

Perhaps your affections held no weight, perhaps even you and Caleb were empty, like you and every other person in the compound. Was it so meaningless to have a picture of the two of you, that his presence means so little to the you now?

Dogs can be loving, so you don't think it's the chain around your throat that stops you…

There is little in EVER that is worth caring for… perhaps the you now, lost their only chance at feeling more than dim acceptance. Tired withdrawal.

A need to see the end, and pass over. Perhaps then you can see Caleb, and remember what it felt like to care.

If he can care back, and not look at bloodied hand and broken carapace in disgust.

Perhaps you should be relieved he's not around to see you, to see the blood splatter up the lab walls. You can't imagine anyone would look at EVER's dog and not sneer.

—-

The training room is too warm.

You've spent four hours testing the limits of the new EVOL's you've been fed. Teleporting through space, mindless music thrumming through the background. It is hard to reign them in, pain ripping through your flesh as you reach for something you can't fully control.

Resonance is a powerful tool, you've been told. It is instinctual, breathing, a part of you. Every EVOL that has been devoured by it, is like the clawed hand. Attached to you, grotesque, too distinct. Too alien to really understand.

The first time you had tried to pull lightning to your clawed fist, you had felt the ozone burn. Tearing through the carapace, pain ripping through the limb. Shattering and twisting through it, until you had lay on the ground. Shaking, vomiting and screaming from the pain of it.

Your residual limb twitching as they pulled you away from the scorched floor.

Trying to feel for the lightning through your attachment was like feeling through thick mud. It was not at the surface of your skin, like calling your resonance to your other hand was. It was weak and hard to grasp, and if you did not grasp correctly… too tightly.

To summon something that could burn through your skin, with flesh and blood, felt like a fool's task. You sacrificed three attachments to the electricity before you could hold it in palm. For a short period of time, then the pain spread out from your shoulder, down to your chest.

Your heart thudding, thumping, racing, then screaming in protest.

Breath short, broken, fleeting.

You shook it out, releasing your hold, pulling away from the EVOL that did not wish to be held. Not by you.

You weren't sure where it had once belonged, you just knew it was not yours.

Weeks had been spent trying to harness the second, dampening. A power that should have been able to weaken or suppress the EVOLs of those around you. Harder to grasp, like it was in direct conflict with your resonance. Fighting it everytime you summoned it to the forefront.

A caged beast that did not belong in your chest, nestled amongst your heart. Teeth and claws, unrestrained fury. It does not wish to be used, or called to heel. It demands more space in your heart than can be allowed.

It is an unruly and uncontrolled tool. Without great focus and peace, it is impossible to use for combat.

You had only ever used it once, successfully breaking sound amplification, bringing you to your knees. Head splitting with the pressure of it. It had felt, for a moment, like the EVOL had taken pity on you.

Alive and warm, before it faded back into the recesses. Refusing to return to your hand.

Without snapping its jaws at resonance with vicious glee.

The easiest to use was the time EVOL, a weak little thing. It's uses limited, like a child's gift. Bursts and flickers of a power that flitted like a butterfly.

You could use it to slow time around you for snapshots. Using it to move out of danger, flickering out of existence to flee. Only useable on yourself, or things you held in grasp.

It always listened, curled around your fingers like a small hand. Seeking out the heat of your flesh for comfort. Like if it did not behave, it would be left alone in the cold.

Against all, resonance continues to be the only form of power that feels like you. There are moments when you use it, that you can almost feel it respond like a vine seeking out something that is no longer there. Poking, prodding, out into space.

You think of ivy on the sides of buildings, growing eternally seeking out comfort in shade that is not there.

Unclear what it seeks, an answer you can't give, not with no memories and static in your senses…

You just know that when it meets the other EVOLs that settle in your body, it recoils as though they don't belong.

Like its instinct has been to eat, ravenous and starving, without checking its food was not toxic, and now it writhes in pain at the result.

If it is such a part of you, you're not sure what that says about who you are.

A hungry, desperate beast, perhaps. Seeking out a thing you can never find.

A poisoned dog in the woods, waiting for the pain to ebb away.

Perhaps both.

It is when you lose focus, teleporting into a wall, stumbling back with your hand against your head, that you feel the exhaustion finally catch back up with you.

Escaping sleep, running on fumes, caffeine and sugar. If EVER had wanted you to be a sufficient tool, you think they would have removed the need for sleep.

Erased illness.

Removed your capability for pain.

You hiss as you ease the ache in your forehead, leaning back against the offending wall and taking a deep inhale.

It is the struggle eternal. To sleep and regain your strength, to finish a job. To reduce the chances of failing, of finding out what is on the other end of failing a job for EVER… versus the knowledge of what awaits you in the dark of your own mind.

Broken images and pain you can't put into place. Nightmares of things you don't recognise. Feelings you can't hope to understand.

There is no escape in the land of dreams, no comforting space to find safe and happy. No place to walk to remind you of times when you might have had a hand to hold, or a smile to greet you. Your dreams do not offer you the memories of Caleb, do not recreate the smile he has in the lone photo.

Perhaps if they did, you would escape to them often.

The close call with the red eyed man played in your mind. The mist that grasped your limbs, the arms around your body. The protest in your ribs as his muscles worked. The ache. The awareness that your body was still fragile.

You think about being dragged, and caged, and taken somewhere else against your will.

Against electric shocks through your skin. Scalpels through your body.

Waking up with your chest opened up, the agony of awareness, and the horror of a body that did not feel like your own.

There is something about the devil you know, after all, and the devil you do not know, with his shining red eyes…

You would rather not find out what lies on the other end, it is hard to imagine anything worse, but the static and the fear of his growl of a voice, that tore through you like the lightning through your attachment, did not make you wish for the risk.

The knowledge and the awareness was something to shy from. It always brought the abstract reminder of pain and loss.

If it kept you off that table then you'd have to brave what your brain concocted.

Figures in the shadows, and voices on the edges of your consciousness.

—--

EVER are careful, Sylus knows this well. He's used to them hiding, he's used to hunting for each head of the hydra. Cutting it back and cauterising the wound. What he can reach. What he can grasp.

He feels, however, like he is chasing his tail. Like they can see him coming, and have begun to lead him to dead ends. To mysteries that he has no time to solve. Sanitariums, graveyards, old bases, laboratories that matter little in their grand scheme.

Laying out crumbs for him, letting him take pieces on the chess board, while keeping the win out of his hands.

He is not a stupid man, he is used to playing games that feel unwinnable. Immense power can often push down any enemy without hindrance.

This, however, is him looking for a hidden jewel, in a desert. The longer he takes, the further you get from him.

The colder his home grows.

The evening that the doctor and fish had returned, hollowed out and on the verge of cracking, he had watched them fracture in ways he wasn't sure he could fix.

The doctor had sequestered himself away, and when Sylus had investigated, he had been staring at documents on experimentations with wanderers. Xander Sciences stamped across the top. Trying to understand the lengths that had been followed to attach one of their limbs to you.

The fish had first lay in one of the larger bath tubs, head under water, embraced by the coldest he could find. Staring up at the ceiling. A heartbroken, cracked song had flowed from under the door frame. He normally loved to hear the fish and you sing… this… this felt like an elegy. Taking him back to bloodied swords and your figure chained in front of his haunted eyes.

Eventually Rafayel had pulled himself out of the water, sopping wet and trudged into the bedroom, finding his way to Sylus' side. Dripping over the covers and curling up on his chest. If his tears were muffled into his chest, he didn't mention it. Just soothed hands he hoped did not shake, down the lemurian's back. Humming under his breath.

Not an elegy, never in mourning, just one of the songs he'd heard you singing a hundred times. Just another thing that was as familiar to him as everything about you.

It should have been a relief to know you were alive, and in some ways it truly was, but he knew the fish was tired. Of being forgotten, of watching you leave. Of knowing you were not returning to his arms just yet.

An ache and pain that lit up the canvas for his art, but left him hollowed and hurting.

After the water had cooled Sylus' skin through his clothes, the hair sticking to Rafayel's face, as he looked up at the man, he retrieved a towel with his EVOL. Easing it over skin, and brushing through wet hair.

"They're coming back to us." He speaks, and it is more assured than he feels. It is as hopeful as it is a need. He cannot go another lifetime without you, neither can the Lemurian, not since having you. In every beautiful flaw. He will chase every life with you, but this one… This one is special. This one is a family and a home, he cannot give it up without being killed once and for all.

He will put this immortal body to use, the way it should be used.

Rafayel nods against him, not moving, and it is moments before he falls asleep.

Sylus wonders at the dreams of the fish, before he decides to chase his own slumber for once, unwilling to disturb the peace that is so rare.

Days later he is working through information. There is something to be said for each of his family members. Rafayel has connections that even he does not have access too, and while he is often tempted to ask, he doesn't want to pry when the fish is willingly digging into it to find any sight of your tail.

Zayne has talked to anyone with connections to EVER, looking into Xander Sciences, digging through all of the correspondence he has ever had for any hint. Though he had come up empty, without accepting offers that his conscience, and his morals can never live with.

Xavier, after healing, had returned to working. Using the Associations information, talking to your captain, seeking out information from people he could trust there. A disappearance was one thing, a return with EVER's mark upon your collar, and a wanderer limb attached to you, was easier for them to mobilise for.

Though Sylus was unsure how reliable they could be, considering you disappeared on a mission for them.

Luke and Kieran have been working double time, in a way he has not seen them move in quite some time. They fulfil orders, of course, but it is never with the kind of violent desperation he sees in them now. Like they have a timeframe, and if they can't beat it, they will fade away.

He thinks about Kieran carving crystals out of his skin, of never having enough time to live.

They know better than anyone what cruelty EVER can commit for their needs. He should not be surprised when they return, disappointed and dirty.

"Nothing there boss."

"We asked around too, no one saw anything."

They're despondent, he realises. Looking at the two as they move their masks to the side. They have taken to wearing the crow hoodies you bought them, more and more. He has debated pulling them off, so that he can wash them, perhaps in the laundry detergent you prefer. Like he's trying to soothe cats whose owner has not returned.

It's not the best thing to wear for jobs, but he doesn't want to watch the twins shrink in on themselves more. There is dirt smudged over Kieran's cheek, against one of his scars, and Sylus blinks and sees you.

Scars through your skin, twisting your lips when you smile.

It blurs into the blank, cold look he received days ago.

The chill in his heart has to be chased away by the wine he drinks from his glass, as he flicks the screen on his tablet. "They're not going to make it easy for us."

Kieran snorts, sitting on the edge of his desk, to stare down at the tablet, looking for something. Anything, Sylus thinks. Like if they look at what he's found, maybe something will click.

Maybe their experiences will mean something, now. Pain justified.

As though it were ever so easy.

"Any other places we can check on the list, boss?" Luke tilts his head, the hood slips further over his eyes.

They look tired, and worn, and hungry. "No, not until I've gone through this. Go get some sleep, and get some food out of the fridge. There should be plates to reheat."

Always now. Food cooked at speed, stuffed into fridges, waiting for spare time stolen from frantic searching.

He cannot remember the last time a meal was shared around a table. Laughter in the walls of his home.

He misses it more than he would ever be able to confess to another. At least not right now, when he has to be strong. Stronger, even, for those who are fighting alongside him.

"But boss-"

"It's an order, if you fall over out of exhaustion, you won't be able to do your jobs."

The two look at each other, sharing a world he can't begin to touch, let alone understand, before they return resigned. Frustration lurking under the edges, of a loyalty he isn't sure they realise they've offered him, and a tired relief, bled into gratitude.

He can keep sending them on more chases, but every piece he claims, every facility abandoned or worthless to EVER, has made him more aware that where he is searching, is not the answer.

While it is unlikely you lie in the heart of EVER's web, they have sequestered you somewhere he cannot see.

Sylus' eyes are many things, but blind? Never. He has always seen the things others could not, even if he has not wanted to. Even if it haunted him. Why now, he cannot seek his own greatest desire, perhaps a punishment for blood or sins. The result of being a monster that lives on the sins of others.

He can only find relief that two plates are missing when he checks on them, dead to the world and curled up in one of the bedrooms set aside for them.

He still cannot remember if it was your idea or his own.

As he cleans up the mess they have left, he receives a message from the fish.

'I think I have something, come here.'

Sylus is unsure if he's ever moved as quickly, as he does, when he pushes his bike past the limits of what even the N109 Zone would comfortably allow.

—----

"Look, I can't tell you everything."

"You need to tell me something."

"I'll tell you what I can!"

When he arrives, Sylus hears before he sees. Rafayel stood, arms crossed but dagger in hand, turning it this way and that. Eyes narrowing on a man stood in a raincoat.

Tacky, with a torn edge.

"Did you ruin this man's coat, fish?"

Rafayel looks up, huffs and shrugs loosely, "He must have had a run in with someone else."

The man in question raises his hands, placating, and careful, now that someone else has arrived. A smile that looks too relaxed, makes Sylus look at his hands. Steady, fingerprints gone.

"Yeah, I had a run in with this nasty dog in my neighbourhood. It's got the worst temper, no good handlers. Likes to snarl."

"And- I don't care. Tell him."

Sylus steps up next to the fish, red glistening eye focusing on the man. Seeing… nothing. Emptiness.

He hesitates. Humans are full of greed and desires. They burn with it, as alive as souls can be, even if they're twisted, corrupt little things. This one, is either the one most closest to their mortal image of purity, or as broken as they come.

"Name's Raincoat."

"Idiotic name, tell me what you need to tell me."

The man huffs through his nose, "Do all of you have the people skills of a dead goat?"

"Is that a comparison people often make?"

His hands return to his sides, shoved into too deep pockets, but his smile remains. It does not offer an ounce of comfort. Sylus has seen smiles like his on other faces. It accompanies a spear to the abdomen more often than it doesn't.

"I heard you're looking for that hunter-" Sylus steps forwards and this time the man jumps back a half step, "Woah, no need to menace, I don't know where they are, but I do know what they're after."

"You're an EVER dog, why would you tell us anything worthwhile?" Rafayel finally speaks, and Sylus watches as Raincoat's eyes go to the dagger in the man's hand. It is a small flick of eyes, before he returns to his smile.

The shortest moment, but he can see recognition. He knows the fish does as well, because he spins the dagger right in front of him, watching as the eyes follow the movement.

"You think I like another one like me lurking around? If I get deemed useless, that hunter of yours will tear my throat out with that fucked up hand of theirs. I've seen the corpses of people they've been sent to kill. I don't need that."

"Like EVER would be any kinder without them?"

"Like minimising the risks of being mauled by a wanderer are always smart."

Sylus notes the chill in Rafayel's eyes, the way his hand tightens a little on the dagger, watching the twitch at the talk of your arm. The one EVER stole from you. Twice.

He hopes your metal one, with the beautiful fish, is still somewhere. When he claims you back, he'll find it.

"What are they after then?"

"That doctor of yours. EVER think that with the assistance of your hunter, he'll finally agree to work with them."

They look at each other, and don't see the widening grin on Raincoat's face, "I've heard he's pretty moral, but he'd do anything for them, right? EVER think so anyway, and they're willing to wave them in front of his face, to find out."

Eyes turn back to him as he shrugs, miming dangling something from his hand, "And if it doesn't work, they'll just find other ways to make him useful. Heard they have some fucked up chips they use for some of their tools. Makes 'em real compliant."

"Why would we believe you?"

He laughs, like it couldn't matter less to him, like Sylus couldn't tear him apart himself. He should, and as he steps forward, a hand tightens around his wrist. Rafayel is facing Raincoat, eyes focused. It is a subtle movement, quick. His dagger spins to keep Raincoat's eyes on it. When Sylus is released, he eases the fury bubbling in his gut.

"You've been useful before, so I'll let you go, so you can be useful in the future. Alright? If you're lying-"

"I know, I know. You'll find me and murder me, your little family are fond of death threats, huh?"

When the man is gone, leaving the two stood in an alley, with Sylus feeling as though he has gained weight strapped to his back, "So we keep an eye on the doctor."

"I guess I'll be on bodyguard duty for once." Rafayel laughs, but it's tired and it's worn. Weighted by questions left unanswered.

Of images that Sylus can't stop trying to shake out of his mind.

EVER pinned to your throat, their leash around your neck, pulling until it snaps.

If they use you, to hurt Zayne, he knows when you come back to yourself, you will never forgive yourself. He has seen you sink into despair once before, he will not witness it again.

—---

Zayne feels as though he's going mad.

"You wish to guard me?"

"You can have me, or you can have Mephisto, maybe the twins. I can reasonably behave myself."

"Sylus, you cannot follow me around the hospital. You would draw far too much attention, and if I am truly a target, it will be more clear that you have some kind of inside information."

The leader of Onychinus stares him down, unwavering jewel eyes. He's used to the man being stubborn, Sylus does not waver from a goal, he has never halted his intentions, or paused in his journey.

Even though Zayne can see fraying edges, and a strength that wavers on the cusp of cracking.

"Then Mephisto will follow you around, ready to alert me."

It's the best he thinks he's going to get for a compromise. The bird at least, can somewhat blend into the surroundings. Perching outside his office perhaps. He doubts anyone will capture him inside of Akso Hospital. Still he's not sure there are limits to EVER's pull at this point.

If they have their hand in everything, he doesn't see how they can't cover up a doctor's disappearance.

His disappearance.

He has no intention to be reckless, and he finds Sylus' concern comforting. A reminder that even though he watched you flee from a café he has frequented with you, he is not holding his grief alone for once.

"I'll accept your pets supervision, but ensure he keeps a reasonably low profile." Accompanies his sigh of weak acceptance. There's little else he can do, if something happens to him… he will not be there to help you, nor will he be able to keep feeling the warmth of his home. He does not want to be the cause for more grief.

"Whatever you say, doctor." Sylus stands, motions for the robot bird that flutters over on metal feathers and rests on Zayne's shoulder. Ready, waiting. He tightens his hand around his work bag, nodding at the thing that he's still not sure has much of a will of its own.

Then he thinks of the times he has found you curled up asleep with Mephisto, and the bird's reluctance to leave the perch of your metal shoulder.

Just as attached as his master, Zayne thinks fondly.

Fingers drift over his cheekbones, pulling Zayne from his thoughts, as he focuses on the wavering heat of Sylus' eyes, "I'll be alright." He offers, as the man hesitates.

"You will, but if you're not-" Something is attached to behind his ear, though it is small and the sensation disappears almost immediately, "I'll find you regardless."

"We need to have a discussion over requesting access to hinge upon privacy."

"I told you before doctor, we have different boundaries for acceptability." The smirk is wide and self satisfied, but it is more confident than Zayne has seen Sylus for some time.

"Now get going, you have lives to save, my good doctor." His hand is raised for a kiss to be placed upon his palm, and then he is released. Mephisto kicking up to fly out ahead of him.

He has always walked the distance to the hospital, it is an easy journey, a moment to prepare himself for a long and hard day. It is never easy facing the path he has chosen for himself, despite his passion for it. Some days are full of pain, others joy.

Zayne has worked ever harder in the pursuit of easing his aching heart. He worries that his handle over his EVOL will begin to shatter, that his lack of control outside of what he would allow himself with his family, will spread to his work.

It is with an iron grip, that grows ever tighter, and the sunken set to his stature, that has allowed him to keep moving. 

He is only ten minutes into his walk, when he feels the prickling up the back of his neck, turning to erect a wall of ice in front of him. Steady hand pushing back against the jolt of lightning that touches the ice and fractures it, scorching where it lands.

He smells burning, and steps back, Mephisto screeches, before lightning arcs for the bird. Piercing a wing and sending him hurtling to the floor.

Before him is a vision he never wants to see again. That twisted carapace arm, with the lightning crackling and burning through it, leaving deep grooves with every spark. Your scars pulling at your lips as you focus mismatched eyes on him.

Cold, empty, devoid of anything.

Sylus had warned him… he hadn't been prepared to see it. When he'd seen you at the café you had been startled, alarmed. Human. Despite the lack of recognition.

Now, before him, dagger in your other hand, he sees nothing. Like you have shut down, broken off parts of the warmth of the person he knew, and stepped out a doll.

You look at the barrier, and he recognises the look. Calculating, ready. The lightning dissipates and you look back up at him, gold filtering into your gaze.

The resonance he can feel across from him is a familiar heat, like home. You place your hand on his barrier as he watches, one lip quirks pulling on the scars, before eyes narrow. "Doctor Li, I would appreciate you coming with me willingly. I have been informed not to damage the merchandise."

"A kind consideration, but I'd rather not hand myself over to EVER." He forces out, through a throat that feels too tight. Words tinged in a humour he doesn't feel. Like you're still you, like he's still making jokes with you. Dry wit and warm heart.

He pushes the barrier out, the ice pushing you back from him. Sharpening ice blades before him, holding them ready.

He watches, as your expression falters. It is like something filters through your cold eyes, a strange flicker of discomfort, before you refocus. He knows you well, has loved you for a long time, but this is a person he does not recognise. Not truly. Whatever lurks there, he isn't sure he can puzzle it out without time.

Which, as he watches your claw glow gold, he will not be offered easily.

"Very well, they will have to tolerate limbs in place."

It is said so flatly, that he feels the chill up his back. To be looked at by you, with nothing but tired acceptance. You who eased the pain out of his skin when the ice pierced it. You who saw warmth in him. You who gave him a safe place to let his control drop.

You who pulling him forwards in time.

Your hand pulls back, and before he can wonder at it, the claw sharpens, grows, and is pierced through the wall of ice, shattering it.

He shoots the shards of ice, backing up further. He can get back home, he thinks as he sends another flurry-

You dart forwards, blinking out of existence for a moment before you are before him, claw grabbing for his throat, and deflected with an icy blade.

It catches at the wrist of your carapace, the grotesque thing pulled back as you wince at the chill. The pain makes you smirk at him, fang peeking out under lip, and you dart forwards again, grabbing it in claw and snapping it. Before trying to headbutt him.

He shields his face with his arm, and pulls another barrier to keep you from slashing with the sharpened blade of claws.

Zayne has to fight you, he realises, something he has never done in this life. You have practiced how to resonate with him, had trial matches, practiced fighting with him, never against him.

Never pushed his EVOL past what you believed was safe, worried at the edges at any pain he has felt, even as you willingly eased it with your power or your touch.

He has never known you to want to risk him like you do now, pushing and clawing at his barrier. Edging him on. As you shoot lightning, with a wince he notes, he finds the logical part of his brain wondering how. Before he runs.

Ice blades flung behind him, a flurry of snow kicking up, he races back the way he came. Before he collides with a solid form, as you stand right before him. Claw grabbing his neck and tightening your grip. He grabs the wrist, freezing where he touches, watching as you hesitate.

Flinching as the chill hardens and cracks, before you squeeze. It is not the familiar touch of resonance he is used to, as the gold seeps up your claw, and into his own skin. It pulls at the ice, hardening its grip. Strengthening it. With none of the warmth of the EVOL he is used to.

It burns back up his skin, sending the ice back the way it came, pushing through his skin. He gasps as it spreads, fights back the cry he wants to let out as the ice turns black and pierces through his arm.

He distantly hears Mephisto squawk, the flutter of feathers, before the sound quietens.

The gold glow of your eyes intensifies, sharpening to points as you squeeze around his throat, the agony of his arm spreads up to his shoulder, as you cut off his airways. "A power you can't control…" Through the haze of his eyes, as he grows dizzy and numb, he sees the spark of something. Guilt. Pain. Understanding? "Go to sleep, Doctor Li."

A flash of red, and the force of a hurricane flings you from him. Sending him to the floor, knees colliding hard with the ground, and hand not frozen barely catching him. He gasps, wheezing to pull oxygen back into his lungs, to ease the ice in his limb. Relieved when it begins to skitter back. Pulling out of his limb.

He is rounded as Sylus stands before him, "Really now doctor, seconds after my warning?" A relief, an assurance that he will not have to hurt you without someone to keep him steady.

That there is a better chance together, than alone.

Even if his lungs struggle to pull oxygen in for his brain to function again.

"Come on now Kitten, you should know better. Only scratch people who want it."

—----

You're falling.

Surrounded by nothing but pitch black.

There is no answer to how long you fall, you cannot see around you.

You're falling.

You reach out, grasping for something. Anything. To stop the hurtling. You feel sick. Agony. Like your body is covered in wounds. Barely holding itself together.

A flash of light and you see your metal hand, grasping. It catches on a ledge, and the light filters through, a lone wisp. It bobs next to your hand, tiny and gold and weak. It dances like a firefly, dancing over your fingers as you dangle.

You try to reach with your other hand but it does not move, like it is locked to your side. Too heavy to use.

As you tense the hand you can use, a little painted fish swims over it, over to your fingers. It twirls around each metal joint, seeking something.

You don't think it finds it, because it jumps as though leaving water. Swimming away. Your hand opens as though you need to grab it.

You need to grab it.

If it leaves, you'll never see it again.

You can't lose him.

The motion causes your hand to open, and as you watch the firefly of light die slowly… the metal turns to claws. Unnatural and broken. Grotesque and black. Scales replacing metal.

It is the last thing you see before the darkness greets you again, and you fall.

Slamming into a ground that knocks all the air out of your lungs.

It is cold that greets you, an icy expanse against the wounded skin of your back. Your claw twitches at your side. Pain shooting through your body that does not respond. Useless and worthless.

It cannot serve you, or anyone.

There is nothing to gain from this body.

Only your claw can move, only your claw can make you worth something.

You are a tool that will be discarded once they realise how very little you matter.

In the darkness the caw of a crow rattles your brain, the sound too loud to be flying over you. Your senses fractured and struggling to make sense of the lack of sight.

It is the first sound you have heard, other than your struggling lungs, with your claw you pull yourself over onto your stomach, and as you do. Blinding lights hit your eyes.

The flash of light lasts a moment, but it is enough to wound your eyes. Intense and harsh. As you blink, trying to force the retina burn to ease, you feel a hand reach for your cheek.

Through the blinking lights and the hazy vision, you see a light behind the back of a head. Eyes gazing into yours.

With each blink the colours flicker.

Red.

Purple.

Pink.

Green.

Blue.

Before your claw reaches out, desperate, shaking. The eyes turn, look at the twisted thing attached to you, before the hand pushes you away, pulling back. A hiss of disgust.

A violent rejection…

And you fall again.

—----

You have been pushed to complete this mission before you are ready. There is no rest, when you have a leash so tight around your neck you can feel the air leave your lungs.

You stare at the man before you, who guards his lover with the snarl of a dragon guarding a treasure. As he gasps to right himself. Trembling as your EVOL's influence stops ripping through his limbs.

At least there is something to be learned. Now if you could just deal with the red eyed man.

"Come on now Kitten, you should know better. Only scratch people who want it."

It grates at you. Kitten. Kitten. Kitten.

"Stop calling me that." You snarl at him. It is not something you are prone to feeling, a violent feeling under your skin, on a job. You have become good at locking back the feelings to complete a mission. You are good at getting through them. At not feeling.

Why do these two have any impact on you? The people they spend time with? Why does your mind fracture through the feelings you cannot name?

"You never used to complain, is sweetie better? Beloved?"

It rattles at you, fierce and violent. Your brain tumbling through the darkness, seeking out a ledge to grasp.

So you rush him, dagger aimed for his throat.

It does not land, brushed aside with a careful hand, before you stab forwards again.

Again.

Again.

Wild and furious and desperate.

Your movements are easily deflected, and when he aims a punch you dart back. Staring at him. Forcing yourself to ease. You have to control it.

You have a target.

Electric and scalpel. If you can't finish, you will feel them again. The reminder of your worthless body on the awareness of agony.

EVER can do worse to you. You cannot give them a reason to.

"You are not my target." You manage to speak, correcting your grip on your dagger, flexing the claw at your side. "Stand aside, I would rather not kill anyone I do not need to."

It's bitten off and harsh, tinged in all the fury you cannot seem to pull back to heel.

Red eyes narrow at you, as the man adjusts his cuffs, moving to stand in front of the doctor, who pulls himself up a little. Breathing easier. "I won't let anyone hurt him, not even you Kitten, and this isn't you."

"I told you-"

You barely get it out before the mist grabs your arm, tugging you forwards and down. So you snarl, and throw yourself at him like the dog you've been called too many times.

Fangs bared, dagger out, and claw extended.

You slash at his face, kick out at his leg, when his EVOL grasps at you, you force it to shatter to the gold running over your skin. Though it never dissipates for long. A hand grasps the wrist of your claw, tightening against where the ice still has you frozen. Squeezing enough to crack it, and you let out a gasp of pain.

Red eyes turn to it, the damage in front of his eyes, and you stab into his chest with the dagger when he does. He releases you for a moment but grabs the wrist holding the dagger, eyes wild and canines bared.

He pushes himself further into the blade, staring down at you.

"The hell are you doing? Do you want to die?"

He barks a laugh, advancing, hand tightening so your bones creak, "When I die, it won't be the person in front of me doing it."

You push the dagger in, growling when he winces in response, "You say that now-"

A shiver runs up your back as the red flares. As his one eye glows.

The world sinks away for a moment. Leaving that pinpoint of red.

Devour.

Only you-

Devour him.

And this flower-

Devou-

"Get out of my head." You snarl, the gold shattering him back. You reach up for your head, stumbling back, leaving the dagger in his chest. The world tilts at an angle, and you slip to the floor.

It crackles and it stings, and the world turns to static. Your surroundings are in technicolour, before dimming into grey.

There's flowers fluttering in the breeze, before they scatter and become nothing but ash.

He pulls the dagger out of his chest, looking at you as you force yourself to your knees. You watch him hold it, like it's precious. Like it matters, rather than throwing it aside.

The man handles it with care, as he places it on the ground. "I do wish Rafayel hadn't taught you to use that, sometimes. Sharp little thing."

You turn eyes to him, scrambling back like a cornered cat, daring not to blink, as you will your mind to steady, to focus. To do something other than fracture.

The devil you don't know. The failure that awaits you.

You extend your hand, the lightning arcing, but rattling through your bones. You bite off the pain, relieved when his advancements stop, moving out of the way of your uncontrolled desperation.

The doctor has recovered mostly, standing, "Sylus, we need to get them somewhere safe."

"I know, doctor."

You stare up as the red eyes approach, as they waver on the edge of softening, before gleaming once again, "Let's get you fixed, kitten."

Fixed.

Fixed.

Arm replaced, body broken, mind fractured.

EVER wanted to fix you. Make you better.

You can't be fixed.

The hand grasps at your arm, pulling you up, stumbling against his chest. You don't struggle, caught in the gleam of red, seeing the swirling colours.

Answers you can't grasp.

The red is all you can see, the static bleeding into an abyss.

There is a whisper on the edges of your mind, husky and deep, warm and ready.

'Tell me you want me.'

Heat against your neck, teeth and tongue. A shiver down your spine, warmth against limbs. Thighs grasped in a tight hold as a growl warms the edges of your soul.

'Tell me you feel good.'

A gasp, a moan of satisfaction. The feeling of tumbling over the edge, but being caught. The answer on the tip of your tongue.

'Say my name, kitten.'

A mantra that resounds around you. A song sung through the fog. Music that lights the sky.

'Do you love me?'

Warmth in chest, a small flutter of life. An affirmation of everything that matters.

The scalpel in hand. The claw at your hand. The questions that have no answers.

The static.

"Get-" The beast roars to life, its jaws snapping as you reach for it, desperate.

"Out-" Tears on your cheeks, it curls around your broken heart.

"Of-" It's head rears, guarding you from the agony of the abyss.

"My-" The silver filtering over your skin, the creature serving you willingly.

"Head!"

You snarl with it, pushing him back. Watching the pain in his face, the silver skittering through his skin, like poison in veins. He falls, and he slumps. You hear the gnash of teeth, the growl.

You push further.

Forcing him down, hand on shoulder now as he is pushed to his knees.

Your heart twitches, and hurts, and aches. Resonance fleeing from you as the beast hungers and snaps and bites at the bit to pull the mist into its maw.

"Sylus!"

The ice that is flung at you, melts before touching you, as the beast whose leash you do not hold turns its attention to the doctor.

You can feel the shaking, through your legs, into your arm. It is only the claw that does not tremble, that does not feel like it will shatter at a touch.

Releasing the man, you turn to the doctor. Catching for a moment, the agony in red eyes as hands reach out, seeking you, but weakly grasping at air as you force agonised limbs to respond.

Your claw grabbing the doctor's hand as he winces. As the dampener rips part of him out of his reach.

You know your resonance is part of you, instinctual and like the blood in your veins. To have it torn out even for a moment… would be agony.

It is the weak guilt, of a heart that trembles against the beast squeezing it, that eases the grip so you do not bruise the doctor's skin this time.

As you fight nausea.

As you command your body to be the tool it was made to be.

As you pull the doctor with you into the jump, leaving the heartbroken cry of a name you don't recognise behind as red eyes shut.

When you finally skid to a stop, the pain too much to fight through, the new scarring up your arm from where lightning damaging blood vessels, and the beast finally releasing its grasp. You stumble into open space. Releasing the doctor for a moment.

It is too much, too many things that you cannot fully control, too many sensations in your head that hurt.

Too many thoughts and too many feelings.

Agony, and loss. Loss that tears into your stomach and tears out your innards. The guilt grows and weighs down your shoulders, reminding you of the pain in red, and the shivering under hand when you had placed it on shoulder.

A job was a job, you tried to remind yourself. It was a move to be made. If you did not, worse awaited you than the hurt you could inflict on others.

You think.

It does not feel as sure as it once did, as you force your body to behave. To listen, to pay attention to you. You have to keep moving.

The doctor recovers from the dampening slowly, "What was that?" He forces, "Sylus-"

"He'll live." You snap, reaching over to pull the man closer by the wrist, "Phone." Your hand extends, and it is at that moment you remember your dagger. Discarded on the ground, in the hands of a man you do not know.

It is shock that recognises the feeling you have, like a lump is in your throat. Grief. You have lost something precious, and you will never get it back. The only thing you owned and cared about, with its familiar carved symbols and the weight in your hand like something you could trust. A tether to something that reminded you, you had something to value.

Gone.

A piece of you is gone.

Hurt is what makes you tug the doctor closer, a raw wound you cannot salve, "Phone, now."

He hands it over, and you would give him credit for his steady expression, the look on his face that does not feed into fear.

So he is not a pathetic scientist like the others, then? Able to hold your gaze for as long as you can bear to hold anyone's. Not flinching at you, not trembling.

If he were not on the list, perhaps he would be one of the more pleasant scientists to get prodded by.

You crush the thing in your hand, throwing it away, before tugging him forward.

He sets his feet, making you feel as though you are pulling against a wall.

"Doctor Li," You hiss through teeth, desperate to get back, to find a dark room and hide in it. To not have to think for a moment, about hazy red and angry sensations of agony, "I will knock you out and drag you, if I have to."

The Doctor watches you, calculating for a moment. You can almost guess the process. Is it worth it to run? Can he fight? You hope the show of strength with dampening his EVOL will convince him otherwise.

He does not have to know you don't think you can do that again. Not for a very long time.

Maybe not ever.

You hope never again.

Pained red, and shivering skin.

"Alright." He exhales, allowing it as you pull him towards you this time. You jump, several more times, before the both of you stumble into the white halls of the EVER compound.

The familiar smell of, what you hope is, antiseptic and disinfectant doing nothing to calm the raging vortex inside of you.

"Follow me, if you run, I'll break a leg." You snap, releasing his arm like it burns you. Truthfully the sensation of touching anyone is at odds with the way you have lived these few months.

You don't want to think about the feeling of his neck under your hand for a very long time. Even if you can already see the bruise forming under his skin.

"Do you often threaten your prisoners?"

"You're the first one. I normally just kill my targets."

He scoffs, it would almost sound like a laugh, if he didn't sound so disgusted. You shouldn't be surprised that he is horrified by what you've said. A normal person should be. Let alone the so-called doctor with the heart of gold.

You lead him to Leon's lab, relieved to see the man is there for the first time in your memory. If only to be done, to wash your hands, to curl up and burn the memories off your skin. You can see the static on the corners of your vision. Flickering like a ghost you can't quite get into your line of sight.

Haunted.

You're just not sure which unknown grief is causing it.

"Little bomb-"

There's a noise of disgust behind you, as the doctor walks in front of you. Like he is half shielding you. It's a strange thing, to be looking up at the back of the head of a man who you have strangled. Tried to freeze. Whose lover you just brought to knees and made hurt.

"Doctor Li?"

The familiarity of Leon is a relief. He is easy to handle, he is a man who your emotional capacity can recognise. Disgust, hatred, violence need to tear, all very familiar. He is almost safe, in the kind of way the knowledge of a snake's venom is safe.

"Mission completed, can I go?" You snap, pulling away from the two. Itching to throw the claw away from you.

"You need to see medical." Leon notes, looking down at the new scarring up your arm, the blood on your hand, "You're not normally this sloppy, little bomb. Issues?"

"I did my job, didn't I?"

"If a tool breaks-"

"It'll be replaced." You snap back, then look at the doctor, "Have fun committing crimes against nature, Doctor Li.."

The Doctor's eyes narrow, cold, but he's looking past you, not at you. "I assure you, I will not be assisting EVER."

You want to laugh at him, the idea is laudable. Truly. Experience has taught you, however, that if EVER cannot use someone, they will break them. The fear of the punishment can often keep at bay.

What they cannot instil with fear… well you've heard the stories of mind control. You're not yet sure what is worse. To serve them willingly, or to lose your mind to become a true mindless tool.

One gives the weak hope of escape, you suppose.

"Can you go get the cot before you leave? We don't have any spare rooms for you yet, Doctor, so I'm sure you'll be fine staying in the lab for now."

"I've slept in worse places." He bites off, though there is little change to his expression. The term ice queen suits him, you think. He must be furious, you're sure he is, or at least thinking of ways he can escape. Instead he simply is observing.

You turn your attention back to Leon, raising a brow at his command, but not moving.

His sigh is long suffering, like he should never have expected anything else when you do not respond to him, and he walks off, "I'll get it then shall I?"

"Probably." You spit back, glaring at his back.

"You've been summoned to meeting room four, when you're done here, little bomb."

The exhaustion sinks deeper into your bones. If whoever gives Leon orders has summoned you, it means the chance to run is further out of grasp. The need to lick your wounds, and try to fix the weight on your back will not come soon.

You feel the burning in your eyes for a moment, before you remember there is someone else looking at you. You narrow eyes at Doctor Li, expecting him to look away, instead his warm green eyes soften. In a way that disturbs something in your chest.

"What?"

"Zayne."

"Excuse me?"

"My name is Zayne." You know that. You want to say. It was in his file. You're familiar with the basic details of his profile.

'To you, I'm just Zayne.'

Your vision crackles, glitching, before you shake your head violently. "Yeah, sure. Whatever." You bite off, stepping back and away, before he can speak to you more. You watch his hand extend, worry in his gaze, that you can't meet because the green makes the static worse.

You manage little else, before you flee. A scared creature, startled by a loud noise. You care little about the scientists who watch you race past them, before you slow and you stumble, and you step through hallways that feel like they stretch forever.

As you try to swallow back bile, and think of anything but agonised red and soft green.

You're done, you're done and you never have to see either man again.

You cannot be found here, and you can just let the feelings lie forgotten.

You can forget the voices and the eyes, you can leave them behind.

You can be the familiar you. Even if there is blood on your hands.

—---

The meeting room is cold. Like most of the compound. When you enter, an older man smiles at you.

You are not well versed in other's expressions, but you feel a chill at his. Like there is something sharp about it. You have not talked to Professor Lucius before, he is a man that commands deep respect, or fear, from those around him however.

You have seen him occasionally, though he is akin to a ghost. Drifting through halls when he has something to do, but otherwise unconcerned with those around him.

Today he stares at you with cool, unwavering eyes. It is not the kind of cool that the Doctor- Zayne has, you note. Calm and steady. It is the kind of cool that reminds you of a snake.

Watchful and venomous.

You do not want to be in this room.

"Ah, Unicorn." It bites at you, reminds you that you are here in a capacity of no control. "I've heard you have achieved a great many tasks for EVER, in your time here."

Unsure how to respond, you offer a nod. It is the first time anyone has acknowledged you, the time you have spent, the work you have done.

Should you feel proud? The feeling is closer to shame, you think.

Seen in a way you do not wish to be.

"Thanks to all of your efforts, we have seen fit to reward you."

"A reward?" Shock moves your mouth before your brain and rationale can remind you that he holds power over your position.

Relief keeps you steady when he does not immediately demand your silence, "Come in."

The door opens, and you first feel fear. The unknown of his words and his actions, make you wonder if this is a cruel trick.

That your reward will be a shot to the head, but maybe that would be a relief.

That your reward will be another limb replaced, to make you a better weapon.

That your reward will be the solitary or the torture or the heart held while still in your chest.

It is a man who enters, sharp black uniform and a hat tilted low over his eyes, before he pushes it back. So you can see pink and purple.

You have seen his face countlessly. Smiling back at you from a silent frame. Warm eyes, and what you think might be love, if you could ever remember. He is familiar to you in a way that only a picture can be.

If asked what he sounded like, you could never answer, but you think you could describe him to anyone, perfectly, down to the very last detail.

Your heart squeezes, like one of the scientists has it in their grip. You fear if you move it will crush under the weight.

There is noise in your ears, the crackling that is becoming too familiar. Your throat is tight and sore, and your lungs will not offer you air as they should. You waver on the edge of unconsciousness. Brain weak and starved.

He steps up before you and smiles as he steadies you with his left hand, "Hey Pipsqueak. I'm home."

[yamatossideboob]

ONE PIECE 1134 Spoilers!

This week's doppelgangers:

So this is a terrific colour spread as usual, but the fact it's likely a tribute to Kazuki Yao is very touching... enjoy your retirement ya old coot, you earned it 100 times over

Apparently this is Luffy doing a very old school yakuza greeting and manner of speech. Regardless its so funny to see him being so formal lmao

WE'LL PROTECT YOU FOR LIFE YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Soooooooooo we have Stella back now too 😒 not thrilled at yet another death being backed out of, but... this is a Stella from 20 years ago? maybe something interesting can be done here. I fuckin hope so.

Also this handily explains just how VP could get around while under surveillance. nice one Oda

Even more worrisome is the now-possibility of Oda backing out of Kuma's 'death'. Admittedly his is a little more ambiguous, but in the sense of whether he truly was alive when his will appeared to be shut down. I was hoping with many others to see him laid to rest in a dignified manner, but it seems Oda has other ideas.

"why are you a woman?" "who cares, I can explain later" yeah when you've transitioned publicly for long enough you really can just get like this, its so funny when no mortal danger is involved haaaaa

Maybe Kuma can be resurrected a lá Saul, but the track record is not brilliant wrt reneged deaths in this series!

MS. ANGE I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

I really do hate how Oda designs like 90% of OP women characters bc 1) its so fucking blatant, the man is beating zero allegations 2) he CAN create fun and interesting female character designs!! Look at her!!!! She's so blocky and stout I adore her!!!!!

this is such a cute building design, i love walrus school

HEY! ZORO! LEAVE THEM KIDS ALONE!!!

hi Ripleyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy you're so huge and beautiful

So this is an interesting development: we have a longstanding warrior culture now being made to embrace trade, education and peace. Could this be something that factors into the arc conflict?

AND this king was the one killed by his son Loki... the intrigue heightens

in a One Piece first, a library displays inherited will.. Ohara would be proud, if it were sapient

The look on Robin's face is incredible... it must be such an amazing feeling to see your childhood literally rescued in such a way

Literally who could be on the other end of the snail.... This is going to drive us mental. Is the nickname Shaggy an indicator of who they are? And besides, their remarks on Loki's kindness... Those positing that Loki ISN'T the villain of Elbaph might really be onto something after all. This is bananas, we need answers pronto!

Speaking of onto something... the yahoos claiming that Shanks has a twin might have been right all along it turns out lmfao. Like... its just not likely that THIS is Shanks, since he was just here his usual way. and obvs the panel recalls that infamous page from hundreds of chapters ago, with ol' Redhair visiting the Elders. The teleportation sigil indicates this is the same individual, AND he has company, but who could they be.... This is such an ominous note to finish out the year on, what a fucking cliffhanger lads.

And on that note, thats all the One Piece that will be published in 2024. It's been a wild year between finishing Egghead and starting Elbaph! Many astonishing moments and reveals and twists and turns! Some questions answered, mostly questions asked! Oda continues his big story stew, bubbling away, and before we know it, the pot will be empty, scraped clean by our spoons. We must enjoy it while it lasts, and hope and luck, we can do just that in 2025. Maybe Oda can stick to his next Jump Fest promise lol.

Til next year nakama! 💪✖️

[ihatemyselfbutidolovetea]

1/22/2025

Jayson asked me to hang out when he got back from the office (the mad lad) but I had to say no because I said I'd hang out with my friends today. I felt bad especially because because because his grandmother is in hospice. I don't know if he wanted to hang out because he missed me or because he needed emotional support. I'm just not sure. I got sad after that.

Remember that famous scene from The Notebook; the guy says, forget what everyone wants, what do you want? And the girl replies It's not that simple and the guy keeps asking what do you want?. I don't know much about The Notebook other than it's a lame love triangle story where a woman has to choose between a boring rich guy that can give her a cushy life and a working-class guy that she fights with constantly but he's hot. But what does this have to do with what happened today? It's the emphasis on the question "what do you want?" I want to feel good about myself. And I want to make people happy with me. I wish I could control people's perception of me.

People pleasing; once it gets a hold of you it's hard to shake it off. To my knowledge people-pleasing isn't a mental illness, so it should be easy to not do it anymore. But it's so hard! People pleasing isn't just a desire to make people happy. It feels like a bug, a parasite within me. These feelings manifest into reality; yes it's true I'm making the wrong decision! Choosing to flake on Schmudd and company would make you unreliable. But it also looks like Jayson can't rely on you either, he; 's going to think he isn't important to you. How are you going to cherish the people in your life? If you don't think of something they'll leave or start to dislike you or talk shit behind your back or never rely on you for anything or-- "What do you want?" "Would you rather have a nice time with Jayson or a nice time with Schmudd (let's be real)?" Well what makes not that simple is because I'm not thinking about what scnerio would make me happier. Instead my survival instincts are activated and I ask myself which scenario is more practical? Which option will not make me look like an asshole? People-pleasing is essentially foregoing what is authentic to the self in favor of not being an asshole. How does one be selfish and not be an asshole? Or is it just inevitable that everyone will become the villain in someone else's story?

I don't know what made me start people-pleasing. Did I get too addicted to praise at some point? Was it my old addiction to internet drama videos that made me want to be cautious of what I say or do so I don't get called out? I was doom scrolling Youtube again looking for something to watch and I go through all these thumbnails that I now make myself flag if they give me the ick. Everyone analysing something to preach about the wider societal implications of niches that make me happy. And then the thought came over me; I hate everyone. Well- that's not true. I don't hate everyone, I don't trust anyone. I spent all this time making people like me, when nine times outta ten their approval isn't worth it. People just bring about so much pain. I thought about my situation again today and the words kept repeating, "I want to run away I want to run away I want to run away..." What if I were to go away, cut myself off from everyone I know. That way no more hurt. I can't disappoint others and they can't disappoint me. I would run away but I'm not strong enough to do that.

I listened to my first stream that was five years ago. I thought about my old friend Alex and I considered reconnecting with him. We used to be such good friends, he was really cool. But I felt so scared. My people-pleasing net is cast wide and I don't want him in there. I'd love to be friends with him, but every time the thought crosses my mind I just don't do it. Does that make me an asshole...?

[gooddaytoberlin]

4 September 2024. Reflecting on my arrival two days ago.

I cannot say Berlin did not receive me with open arms. Ridden by hubris and impatience, I travelled all the way from my now former uni town with two large and heavy suitcases, nearly impossible to steer, a travel bag, another bag containing my blanket and pillow, and a backpack. Oh, and a yoga mat. I am 1.59 m and not exactly built like Dwayne Johnson but have the misplaced confidence of a tragic Greek hero.

From getting on the ICE to stepping out of the tram that took me to my dorm, people offered me a hand. Most notably women of all ages, once a young man of colour who did not appear to speak my language. Lad low-key saved my life.

The landlady is ... a ray of sunshine, but in a way that feels a little ignorant, and willfully so. She let us (another guy waiting and me) in 15 minutes early, was very friendly and smiled the entire time, and I was even allowed to leave some of my luggage in the waiting hall while I got the rest to my room. But her smile did not drop when she informed me that my contract would likely not be continued post July 2025 as they are going to redo the floors next year. I wouldn’t have to worry; she would let us know in time. When is in time, and how long will it take me to find another residence for the remaining two semesters? Still, part of me welcomes her positivity. It is simply something that I currently need.

The room was sticky and dirty; the previous tenant did not care to remove his hair or the mysterious brown sauce he left on the desk and shelves. Or his old toilet brush. Or the crumbs in his locker in the kitchen. Or the mould in his part of the fridge.

I just had a phone call with my grandmother, who looked up the dorm on the internet and was a little mortified at the concrete floor. I was mortified too but feel much more at ease now that I wiped it. It is far from clean, but now, I am at least able to imagine the germs are gone.

Most of the dorm mates seem friendly. Earlier today, one of them helped me remove a butterfly that got trapped inside. The weather is unbearably hot. I worry about winter and heating.

We have moths and their maggots; apparently they used to be a real pest, crawling up the ceiling and falling down, and they keep returning to the apartment. I store my food in my room, following my flatmates’ advice, but if the moths get into my room ... God, I don't even want to think about it.

Got my student card yesterday and found a grocery store, fought the bathroom bacteria in a cleaning craze. Today, I found out where to dispose of trash and garbage. People here have a rough vibe, but so far, they have been really helpful and supportive. More so than in the North, where I am from.

To be honest, you can’t really hit it worse than my hometown. The coast region is not the coldest at all; it is the heart of Mecklenburg which sensitive people should avoid. In my humble opinion, that is. I once talked to a woman who had returned from Finland and was utterly shocked about how uncaring and unkind people in our area behave. She was on the verge of tears. I do not blame her. Of course, I still love my friends and family, and there are good people in this region, but the overall attitude is a nightmare. If you want to find bigoted jerks, egos blown out of proportion, whose favourite hobby it is to pity themselves without doing anything about their situation while bullying everyone they deem weak or different to feel better about their own misery, well, I got the town for you.

Someone keeps stealing mugs and cutlery. Of course, I keep mine in my room.

In 2020, I spent a semester abroad in Bergen; most of the flat consisted of German speakers, to the great frustration of the Italian, French and Dutch people. Now, in this international student village in Germany, we once again got a whole bunch of German speakers. My Lithuanian flatmate seemed exasperated, and I experienced a sense of déjà-vu.

I am scared of my studies and at the same time cannot wait. I want to network, prove my academic worth: to myself and my new professors and admittedly also some I left behind. What if I’m not enough? What if I mess up? What if I once more fall behind? What if word of my failure spreads to my old university? I already feel overwhelmed, yet want to excel so badly.

Since I can’t really prepare yet, I have been feeling stuck and stranded since I got here. Booked a 3 EUR ticket for a tour through an academic space tomorrow morning/noon. I hope I’ll find my way around.

Berlin has been kind to me, but I am still terrified and filled with rejection. It may get better once the first week has passed; this was only the third day and there is so much to do.

I just wish I could already throw myself into uni work.

[calm-and-wine]

(I’ll give you) the best years

part V (masterlist, taglist)

hello, hope everyone is well and taking care of themselves! here is part 5 of best years, in case anyone needs a little escape. there will be one more part (more like an epilogue probably), but i’m not sure when it’ll be posted yet, because i do need to (and want to) write my one shot for the quarantine challenge. it will definitely happen though. anyway, hope you enjoy this one and i’d love to hear your thoughts!

PART V

 November 2025

 Life without tennis was weird, that was the conclusion Lucy arrived to after two months since her retirement. It wasn’t necessarily bad, just very different. She didn’t regret her decision, not at all, but it’ll take some to get used to that new situation. She spent a bit over a week in LA while the band was doing promo, then went away for a week, just her and Niall, back in Maui, celebrating their wedding anniversary and whatever the future had in store for them. That was good, quite normal, but coming back and not going back to training was not normal. Not having to wake up early was not normal. Not having to pay attention to her food or being able to drink alcohol as freely as she wanted was not normal. Well, it was her new normal and she should probably start getting used to it.

 It wasn’t like she didn’t have anything else to do. She went to see her parents and stayed with them for a week. She had been making moves on starting the management to help young tennis players, attending meeting after meeting, trying to be as involved as her knowledge allowed her to, all the pieces slowly but steadily falling into place.

 Her life hadn’t necessarily slowed down, it just took a different course. And in the middle of it all, her and Niall also started looking at houses. Their friends said it was crazy, them running around, from meetings and Niall’s rehearsals with the band, hurrying to not be late to meet with their estate agent. Lucy was actually more tired than she was while playing. But she wasn’t complaining. Because no matter how chaotic the days were, in the end, it was always her and Niall, under the same roof, in the same bed, together.

 Even though they were both busy, they were about to be even busier. Well, Niall mostly. With the band’s first album after reunion being released in just over a week and a world tour starting in January, he definitely won’t be complaining about too much free time on his hands.

 They just got home from looking at yet another house (fourth this week), going straight to the kitchen, with Lucy starting to heat up dinner she prepped earlier, while Niall put a kettle on for some tea. Even though they hadn’t spent a ton of time together at home, especially considering how long they had been in a relationship, they had no problem falling into step with each other.

 “So, what did you think?” he asked, stepping behind her and putting a hand on the small of her back while reaching up beside her head to pull out two mugs from the cupboard. Because they drove separate cars, coming from different locations, they hadn’t even had a chance to talk properly.

 “Um… It was alright, I liked the exterior, it’s very well-kept. Big garden, which is nice,” Lucy said, turning slightly to follow Niall’s moves.

 “What about the inside?” he asked.

 She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’d need some renovation.”

 He sighed, passing her a steaming cup, knowing she liked her tea almost scolding hot. She took it with a smile, also noticing he chose her favourite mug. “How come there are no good houses in London?”

 “I know, right? I did not expect it to be that hard to find a nice home.” Because Niall was close enough, she took half a step and rested her forehead on his shoulder, him instantly putting an arm around her to rub her back.

 “Could you see us in any that we’ve seen?” he asked after planting a sweet kiss on her hairline.

 “I like the one we saw yesterday,” she said, raising her head, but staying pressed to his body. “It needs a lot of work, but it has good structure. It was finished terribly, we would have to change the floors probably, maybe take down a wall or two…”

 “That’s probably doable though, right?”

 “Did you like it?” she asked. It obviously needed to be a mutual decision, even if they may not stay in that house forever.

 “Yeah, I did,” he assured. “It has everything we wanted, just needs some work, but at least we wouldn’t have to rebuild it. And I liked the location a lot.”

 “Me too.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, her mouth going into the kiss. “Should we arrange for a contractor to take a look? See if it’d all be possible to do?”

 “Mmm, yeah,” he agreed, planting another kiss on her lips. “I know it’s not perfect, but I’d say we try, I think we’ll feel different once we’re done with it.”

 “I was never a big fan of perfect anyway,” she shrugged.

 “In everything except your husband, obviously,” Niall pointed out.

 Lucy laughed. “Oh, that especially, I settled.”

 He looked at her offended, pinching her waist, which earned a yelp from her, instantly squirming in his hold. But he held her tightly, finding her lips for yet another kiss, both their faces lighting up with grins. They truly did not need a perfect house, because they already found the perfect home in each other.

 ~~

 The album was out. One Direction was officially back and everyone was loving it. The guys were special guests at the morning radio show, then did a few more interviews before arriving at the venue for their special show. It was their first proper show, only performing the singles on tv or radio before. But tonight was a ‘one night only’, when they would play the new album in its entirety, as well as their biggest hits, obviously. 

 Lucy, Maya and Ines met up at the venue, waiting for their guys to arrive. Eleanor was coming later with Freddie, everyone’s families and friends were going to be there as well. It was a big day and the buzz was evident in the air. When the band finally arrived, everyone could tell they were scared about the upcoming show. But there were also huge smiles on their faces and excitement coursing through their veins. They just hadn’t done it all in a while. 

 They all sat down to have dinner together, talking about their day, the amazing reaction the album got and everything in between. It was truly heartwarming to see them back together and happy like that. 

 Soon after, the guys had to go to soundcheck, the girls standing up, ready to join them, all except Lucy.

 “Are you not coming?” Maya asked, looking at her surprised.

 “Nope, this one is banned,” Niall replied before Lucy could utter a word, throwing an arm around her and squeezing her shoulder with a wicked smile on his face.

 “Why?” Harry asked, looking at the couple with intrigue.

 “Well, I’ve actually never seen your show, so he wants me to watch it properly,” she explained.

 “No spoilers,” Niall smiled, proud of himself.

 “You’ve seriously never been to our show?” Liam asked incredulously, to which Lucy shook her head. “Have you been living under a rock?” he snickered, genuinely surprised. Judging from the amount of people who used to come to their shows, they kind of thought most people have seen them perform at some point.

 “Nope, just travelling the world, being one of the top tennis players, you know, the usual,” she replied with a laugh.

 “Well, it might be for the better that you haven’t seen us in our golden years,” started Louis, “at least you’ll be less disappointed tonight.”

 “Oh come off it, you’re gonna be amazing,” Ines chastened him, hitting his arm playfully. 

 “Yeah, yeah.”

 “Okay, lads, we need to go,” said Harry, trying to rush the boys, knowing their team was waiting.

 “I’m actually gonna stay too,” Ines said, when he reached for her hand.

 “Me too,” joined Maya. “It’ll be fun watching the show with a fresh mind.”

 “Well okay then, we’ll be extra sexy during soundcheck, so you’ll be missing a lot,” Harry said playfully, which earned him a few laughs.

 Each couple shared a kiss and hugs, with Louis making whiny noises behind them, because Eleanor wasn’t there yet, before the guys finally left.

 Lucy loved hanging out with the girls. They were all very different, but still got along well, having this amazing thing connecting them. It was the same with the boys, all four of them with very different personalities, but forming a bond as strong as true brotherhood. It was the type of relationship you wouldn’t understand if you weren’t a part of.

 She had fun hanging backstage, she always enjoyed those moments, everyone buzzing with excitement, talking, relaxing before going out there, and sharing it with the band, the atmosphere was even better. It was like a family.

 After sending Niall off with one last kiss and an unneeded ‘good luck’, Lucy went out into the crowd. All the women decided to watch the show from the stands, only choosing side stage for the last few songs, so they could hug their men right after.

 Watching Niall on stage has always been an incredible experience, making Lucy not only smile, but her heart fill with warmth, love and admiration. But seeing Niall on stage with his three brothers was another level. It was so easy to see just how much love those four guys had for each other, for what they were doing together. And the crowd… She had been to many of Niall’s shows, but she’s never seen or heard a crowd like that. That loud, that passionate. It was breathtaking. And knowing not only how hard the guys worked for it, but especially how much it all meant to them, made it even more awestracking. If she felt like that standing on the sidelines, she couldn’t even imagine how it must feel for the four men on stage. 

 Lucy knew Niall loved watching her play. And she felt like she truly understood why. How proud he always felt. Because seeing him up there on stage, she felt exactly the same way. There was nothing better than watching the person you loved doing the thing they loved. 

April 2026

 Niall was finally home. Sure, it’s only been 11 days since Lucy left the band’s tour and flew back home to take care of some businesses, meet with the few players her management was considering signing and oversee the renovation of their house. She spent over two months by Niall’s side, travelling through America and watching him perform night after night. And even after that time, she hadn’t gotten bored with seeing him on stage. She probably never would, just like he’d never get tired of performing.

 Having just over two weeks together at home came at the perfect time. Not only because there were a few things that needed to be done in London, but mostly considering the conversation she had to have with her husband. A conversation that required a certain level of privacy, which was quite hard to find while almost constantly being surrounded by people on tour.

 She occupied her time waiting with cooking dinner, his favourite of course, but her mind and stomach were turning, both with uncertainty of the upcoming conversation and excitement of seeing Niall again. But the sound of their gate opening brought her back to earth, making her instantly turn off the stove and leave the kitchen to properly welcome her husband.

 She got outside just as Niall was grabbing his suitcase, so she ran up to him and threw her arms around his body, which was as familiar to her as her own, if not more. He saw her coming, having managed to close the boot of the car and open his arms just in time to catch her. At that moment she was so carefree, running wild just because she missed him, not caring about what the driver might think or how it might look, just happy to have her love home.

 “Hi,” he said joyfully, moving his hand from her waist to cup her cheek and leaning down for a kiss. 

 “Welcome home,” she said before going in for a second kiss. They were both aware that they were stood in their driveway and not exactly alone, so they refrained from making out like teenagers.

  “Thanks, John, see you soon!” Niall said over his shoulder to his driver, grabbing his suitcase in one hand, the other wrapping around Lucy and leading them into the house.

 As soon as they were inside and the door was closed, his mouth was back on her. 

 “Niall,” she laughed, when after a minute he moved to her neck, “I made dinner.”

 “Not hungry,” he said hurriedly, like he wanted to spend as little time without the contact of her skin as possible.

 “But,” Lucy started, which made Niall pull away slightly, putting his hand on the back of her neck making their eyes meet. It was like that look made her grounded again, all the worries, stress, all the different scenarios she made up in her head, none of that mattered. He always had this amazing gift of making everything else disappear. Like it was just them two, at that very moment, their feelings the only thing that mattered. “I guess the dinner can wait,” she agreed, marking her words with a playful tag at his hair.

 “Missed you, love,” he said with a wicked smile, before raising her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to hold tight, and carrying her upstairs to show her just how much he really missed her. 

 ~~

 They were enjoying the peace and quiet after dinner, cuddled on the couch, an old rerun of the show they’ve seen already humming in the background while they chatted a bit, sharing the things that happened the last couple of days, even though they already knew the majority through their phone calls. The company of their spouse always brought a level of comfort, no matter where they were, but when they were together at home, there truly was nothing better. 

 Lucy turned her head slightly to check if Niall hadn’t drifted off to sleep during the lull in their talks and when he looked back at her with the softest smile, the one reserved only for her, she said what’s been on her mind for the past three days. 

 “I might be pregnant.”

 Her statement made Niall sit up, turning his body to face her properly, his hands grabbing hers to make sure her attention is all focused on him.

 “How sure are you?” he asked softly, his voice level, oozing nothing but calmness.

 “Um… Not really, I’m late, but I haven’t taken any tests.”

 He let go of one of her hands to rake a hand through his hair. “Shit, okay, should we go get some now?”

 She bit her lip nervously. “There are three waiting in the bathroom upstairs.”

 He looked at her carefully, trying to decipher how she felt about it all, but he could only see the slightly shake to her hands and a soft smile gracing her lips, which was a bit contradictory, but in a way he felt like he understood her mood perfectly, a balance between very nervous and excited.

 “Shall we go now, then?” he asked carefully. 

 “Yeah,” she said getting up, Niall halting her for a second before she could walk away, their lips meeting in a very reassuring kiss, before leading her upstairs with a hand on the small of her back.

 Lucy had three different tests she bought the day before tucked away in a medicine cabinet, waiting for Niall to get home, because it didn’t feel right to check on her own. She went into the bathroom, her husband walking circles around their bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar. She picked all three tests up, read the instructions carefully before peeing on the sticks, laying them all on the sink and rejoining Niall in the room to not wait alone.

 “Hey, you’re alright, yeah?” he asked, coming right up to her and grabbing her shoulders, massaging them slightly.

 “Yes,” she said, stepping closer to hug him, needing the safety of his arms. “I didn’t expect it, but whatever happens, it’s okay. I mean we want kids anyway and maybe it isn’t the best time and we didn’t really plan it, but we’re ready, right?”

 He smiled at her, reaching up to tuck a stray of hair behind her ear. “I think so, yes.”

 They took a minute embracing each other, both holding the other tightly, both having this epiphany that their lives might be changed in a matter of minutes. There were some soft kisses shared, loving words of reassurance whispered, before Lucy’s alarm ringed out, Niall squeezing her one more time before wrapping an arm around her waist, their bodies colliding as he led them into the bathroom to see the results.

 “You look,” she said, burying her head into his shoulder, trying to take deep breaths and stay calm. She wasn’t afraid of being pregnant. Sure it would change a lot, a kid would probably turn their lives upside down. But it wasn’t like they never talked about it, they both wanted kids, they wanted kids together. She loved Niall, he was her forever, there was no trace of doubt about that in her mind. But it was still scary.

 “Hey, look at me,” Niall said after a minute, his calloused fingers cupping both her cheeks. When she looked into his eyes, she could see them begin to glisten. “They’re all positive.”

 Before she could say anything, a huge smile broke into her face, Niall’s face instantly mirroring hers. “We’re gonna be parents,” she whispered, as it was some kind of secret only they knew, like she didn’t want to share it with anyone else, it was only for Lucy and Niall.

 “We’re gonna be parents,” he whispered back, resting his forehead against hers, before pulling her impossibly close, his lips finding hers, the kiss soft and urgent at the same time. 

 When he pulled away after quite a few more kisses, he grabbed her by the waist, lifting her and swung her around the bathroom, the biggest smile on his face, a laugh escaping his lips, she was also pretty sure she caught a tear running down his cheek. She had her doubts, she had to admit that, but she was also incredibly happy. Niall felt like her home for the longest time, but now they’d be a proper family. They were growing, they were making even more plans together, it was all evolving, growing, especially the love. She didn’t think it was possible, but it truly felt like the love they shared only grew and grew and all she could hope for was that it would never stop.

 ~~

 As Lucy slowly came into consciousness, the sun trying to seep into the room through the curtains, as soon as her eyes cracked open, she saw Niall. It was the best feeling to wake up and feel his body connected with hers, even if it was just their feet tangled together. But it was a rare sight to wake up and see her husband already awake. But this morning he was just that, lying on his side, an arm curled under his head, watching her.

 “What time is it?” Lucy asked, rubbing her eyes, voice groggy from sleep.

 “Don’t know,” Niall replied shrugging, his eyes not leaving her face.

 “How long have you been awake?” She turned on her side to face him properly, her hand setting on his bare torso.

 “Don’t know.” He reached his hand to push back the hair falling onto her face, before lifting his head to plant a good morning peck on her lips.

 She looked at him with furrowed brows, his behaviour a bit unusual. “Do you know anything? Have you not looked at the clock?” It wasn’t like him to wake up before her but it was even more unlike him to not check his phone right after.

 “Nope.” His face was lit up by a content smile, his hand travelling from her cheek to her waist to pull her closer.

 “Why not?” she asked, eager to get some answers, see what was going on inside his head.

 “Why would I?” He threw the question back at her. “It doesn’t matter, we don’t have anywhere to be today. Why would I waste time looking at the time when I have such a beautiful angel to admire beside me?”

 Even though the room wasn’t entirely bright, the curtains keeping the sun out for the most part, she could easily see the love in his eyes. 

 “What got you all soppy this morning?” she laughed, feeling her cheeks warming up at his words.

 “You get me soppy all the time, it’s your magic ability.” He moved even closer, wrapping his entire body around her, burying his head in the crook of her neck.

 “I missed this,” she admitted, pushing her fingers through his hair. “There’s nothing better than waking up together.”

 He hummed, his hands gently roaming over her body before setting underneath her t-shirt (or rather, his), right on her belly. Her heart skipped a beat. Niall planted a kiss on her neck, before pulling away to press their foreheads together, looking not only into her eyes, but straight into her soul. Lucy could feel her eyes starting to glisten, and who knows, maybe it was the hormones, there were definitely many emotions filling her, the strongest of them all being love.

 “We’re really gonna have a baby soon,” Niall whispered, cupping her cheek, ready to catch any tear that might escape.

 “Yeah,” she managed to say, before he leaped in to kiss her, wanting to show her just how happy he was, how in awe and in love he was, how grateful he was for her. 

 “You’re okay with that, right? Having a kid now?” he asked after a minute, his voice laced with the slightest hint of insecurity. They talked about it last night, but he wanted to check in again, after some of the emotions died down.

 Just looking at him, concerned about her and her feelings, made her heart soar and a smile graced her lips. “Of course I am. It’s unexpected, sure, but I’d say we’re in a pretty good place, maybe it’s not ideal timing, but it’s not terrible either.” She propped her head on her shoulder to get a better look at Niall, making sure he not only heard her, but also knew she meant every word. “I’m happy. We’ve known for a while we wanted children, so we might as well start now, right? We’re having a baby, of course I’m happy. Pretty scared, but happy.”

 “I feel like the happiest man, honestly. You always make me the happiest.” He grinned so much this morning, his cheeks would probably start aching before the clock even hit noon.

 “Do you think we’ll be alright as parents?” she asked, grabbing his hand to play with his fingers.

 “Well, I have no doubt you’re gonna be the best mum. And I’d like to think I’m gonna be an alright dad.”

 “You’ve always been amazing with kids.”

 “Yeah, but it’s a bit different with your own, right?” He shrugged before moving onto his back and looking at the ceiling, like it could hold some answers. “I think you might have to be the strict parent most of the time. I’m too soft for those kinds of things.”

 Lucy chuckled, leaning up and over him. “We’ll figure it out,” she assured. “I need to call my doctor and actually get an appointment first.”

 “You’re still coming with us to Europe, right?” He asked, looking up at her hopefully.

 “Yeah, it should be okay, right? We’ll ask the doctor, but I think so. We need to get the house done though. Especially now.”

 “Don’t worry about it, we’ll make it. Everything will be alright and if not, we’ll figure it out.”

 She went in for another kiss, before settling down onto his chest. “I love you.”

 “And I love you.” He moved his hand around to her belly and looked down. “And you little bean.”

July 2026

 “You can see my belly, can’t you?” Lucy asked, turning every which way in front of the mirror. 

 Niall glanced at her from his place on the bed, looking away from the emails he’s been responding to and taking in his wife. She had a pretty summer dress on, the mixture of elegant and cute, looking as beautiful as ever. But he felt like he was on thin ice, because yes, he could easily make out a small baby bump beneath the material, but he was more than familiar with her body and was pretty sure this was not the response Lucy wanted to hear.

 “Well… Yeah, but that’s just because I know it’s there,” he said, gesticulating to her stomach.

 She huffed irritatedly, clearly not happy with his answer. “I don’t have anything to wear, then.”

 Niall sighed (but not loudly enough for her to hear), closing his laptop and going to stand behind his wife, grabbing her hand to pull her close. “You look beautiful, love. And if someone can spot your bump, so what?” He knew Lucy wasn’t feeling great lately. Her belly started growing and as much as he thought that made her even more sexy, she didn’t feel perfectly comfortable with it yet, so used to the way her body had been pretty much the same for years. The fact that she had been feeling like shit, growing tired way too soon and morning sickness lasting almost all day, did not help.

 “It’ll probably make tens of articles pop up speculating,” she reasoned, wrapping her arms around his neck.

 He shrugged, clearly unbothered. “I say, let them. Fuck it, you know? It’s ours, yeah, but we can’t keep it on the downlow forever, so we should just do whatever we want to. And not care. You are pregnant, so why hide it?”

 She bit her lip, taking a moment to think through his words. “Are you sure I look alright?” she asked again. “There will be a lot of people. And pictures.”

 “You look stunning, Lulu,” he assured, marking his words with a kiss. “Like always, but even more. You’re glowing and I’m loving it.”

 “I do not feel glowing,” she huffed.

 He looked at her with concern. The doctor said it was all normal, some women feeling better, some worse, so technically there was no cause for concern, but he still worried, especially knowing that she was happy with the pregnancy, but couldn’t actually enjoy it, because it was not being easy on her. Having her on tour with him was good and bad at the same time, he was glad he could keep an eye on her, but it was hard seeing her struggle, especially all the travelling taking its toll on her. She assured him she was fine, time and time again, being an absolute champ about it all, which of course she was. But he was a husband, it was his job to worry.

 “Are you sure you’ll be okay today? How’s the sickness?” he asked, holding her steady by the waist and taking a step back to look at her properly, almost like he was trying to assess her state, even though there were no clear symptoms.

 “Not awful, but not the best either,” Lucy admitted, having trouble to even remember when was the last time she actually felt good. She took his hands and wrapped them tight around her waist, stepping closer to him once again. “You’ll be by my side, so I’ll be alright.”

 He sighed, knowing there was no point in discussing it further. He did plan to make her ginger tea in a travel mug, so she could drink it on their way, hopefully calming some of her nausea, because that was pretty much all he could do to help her. “Are you excited?” he asked, changing the subject. They were going to watch the women's final at Wimbledon, with Lucy not only being invited, but also asked to take part in the trophy ceremony. It was a great honour, he understood that, of course he did, but just a little part of him wished she would take it easy. Stay home if she didn’t feel great. Especially because he knew she was stressed out about it. Not only about how she looked, despite all the questions she just asked, that was probably the least of her concern. She didn’t like being in public like that. Maybe she wouldn’t be the centre of attention, but she’d still be under the spotlight. She worried about making a mistake, having thousands of eyes on her, all the comments that might come after. She knew how to play on a tennis court, not hand trophies.

 “Yeah. Really excited,” Lucy said, a smile taking over her face. “A little stressed, especially since I could technically feel the urge to throw up at any minute.” Niall was about to say something, probably along the lines of her canceling, so she pressed her palm against his mouth to shut him up. “But it should be fine. I’m really hoping Naomi will win, she deserves it so much.”

 She didn’t just say it because she had beaten Naomi last year, but as a friend and a fellow player. They already made plans to meet up for lunch on Monday for a little catch up.

 “Oh, I forgot to tell you, they asked us to come in on Wednesday to see the house, they need some decisions regarding the living room, I think.” Lucy said, after Niall finally went into their wardrobe to change. She was just about to hurry him, not wanting to be late and knowing the traffic will probably be awful.

 “Do you have any other plans on Wednesday?” he asked, coming back into the room, dress pants on and starting to button a light blue shirt.

 “There might be a meeting regarding the sporting centre, I’m not sure yet. But if I’m busy you’ll handle it, right?” Lucy asked, not even trying to hide the fact that she was ogling her husband’s naked chest. Damn, she loved his body. And his heart and soul, but his body… It made her crazy, especially now when her hormones were all over the place.

 “Yeah, of course,” he said right away, knowing Lucy was actually the one making sure everything was on track with their house, so he could take some of that load now that he was home for three weeks.

 “And I might not be coming out for that last leg of your tour.” She said, finally turning around and going to put finishing touches on her makeup. 

 “Wait, what? Why?” Niall asked, stopping his movements to look at her.

 “Just…. The house is gonna be a shit show next month, with most of the general work being finished, the furniture and equipment starting to arrive, the other crew coming in… We can’t ask Mia and Nat to keep an eye on it all the time.” She didn’t turn around, didn’t even raise her eyes to look at him through the mirror, because she didn’t want to see his expression. Seeing the disappointment on his face might just make her cry. And she spent way too much time trying to make her eyes look decent with makeup to destroy it now. “Plus there’s been talk of some more meetings, getting the ball really rolling for the centre… And it might be good for me to slow down for a bit. Especially all the travelling. I haven’t decided yet, maybe I’ll come down for Australia.”

 “Oh okay. I mean…” he sighed, his hand going up to his hair and stopping at the very last second when he remembered it was already styled. “Yeah, it might be good for you to chill for a minute. But I’ll hate not seeing you for weeks again. And I don’t like the prospect of leaving you alone with it all.”

 Lucy finished applying her lipstick before finally turning around, his eyes already trained on her, a weak smile on his face. Niall didn’t mean to make her feel bad or guilty, that was never the case, but he also wanted to be honest. And she knew he was coming from a good place, always.

 “I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine,” she said, coming up to him and cupping his cheeks, making a move to plant a kiss on his lips, but pulling away a second before their lips met, not wanting to put lipstick on him, which made him whine and her let out a little laugh. “It’s just a few weeks. And then you’ll be home. And I’ll be here. And we’ll be moving while also preparing for the baby, so that will probably be a shitshow, but hey, at least we’re in this together.”

 He smiled, kissing her cheek. Then the other. And then her neck, making her giggle. “‘Course we are. Always.”

October 2026

 Putting finishing touches and getting ready to move houses while being seven months pregnant was not ideal. Thankfully they were both home now, after Lucy flew to Australia for the last shows of One Direction’s first tour back, they came back two weeks ago, after spending a few days longer, just relaxing, on the other side of the world.

 All of this made Lucy stressed, her pregnancy made her uncomfortable most of the time and the impending arrival of the baby made her feel unprepared, no matter how many books and blog posts she had read. Because of that, it was no surprise to Niall that she wanted a quiet birthday. Lucy was never a fan of huge parties, especially the ones thrown in her honour. He proposed going away to their getaway house in Ireland, but she had insisted there were too many things to be done and overseen here, so he didn’t push, not wanting to make her even more stressed or upset. He did however make sure she hadn’t done anything unnecessary that day. Bringing her waffles and tea to bed in the morning, staying wrapped up in each other until midday, spending the next few hours cocooned on the couch, talking and watching tv, catching up on the lost time while they were apart. 

 However, when it was nearing the evening, he did ask her to get ready, saying he had something special planned. 

 “If you threw me a party, I’ll kill you,” she said while walking down the stairs, ready to go out. She knew it wasn’t dinner, because they had eaten not too long ago, Niall cooking her favourite of his while she admired him at work from the kitchen counter. He just chuckled, refusing to give her any hints.

 But he did throw her a surprise party. Well, maybe not necessarily a party, more like a gathering. He got all of 1D with their better halves, their friends, her parents, Mia and Natalia, his own parents, even few of the people she’s been working closely with at the tennis management. The place wasn’t too crowded, filled with people she knew and appreciated. The music wasn’t too loud, you could easily have a conversation without screaming at each other. There was a bar, but not a proper dancefloor, just a little free space in case anyone wanted to bust a move, which eventually they did. 

 It was special, a perfect night to finish off the perfect day, the gesture making her cry more than once (which was fine, because at least she could blame it on the hormones). She trusted Niall completely and moments like those just proved how he truly knew her, giving her the perfect balance of what she wanted and what he knew she’d enjoy. 

 But now it was nearing 5am and she was lying awake, over half an hour since she woke up. She was uncomfortable. Huffing and throwing away the comforter because she was too hot, then growing cold mere minutes later. Not even her pregnancy pillow brought her any comfort tonight. She was just about to try getting up, when Niall stirred besides her, his eyes cracking open and his hand going to rub at her back as soon as he noticed she wasn’t asleep.

 “Everything alright?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

 “Yeah, I couldn’t settle comfortably and now I’m wide awake,” she explained.

 Niall hummed, looking at her in the darkness, her eyes tired, brows furrowed. He could see she was stressed or anxious, like she had been most of the time lately. It made him worried. He tried his best to take as much burden off her as he could, especially now he was home. 

 “I’ll go make some tea and then give you a message, hmm, how’s that sound?” he asked, bumping her nose cutely.

 “I’ll go with you,” she said, throwing the comforter off her body already. 

 “No, you relax, you’ve been on your feet half the night, you should rest.”

 “I need to stretch, I’m too uncomfortable now,” she reasoned, which made him give up easily, ready to help her up right away.

 They went downstairs holding hands, because that’s just how they usually walked, him not really letting her do anything beside walking around the kitchen to stretch her limbs, before going back to bed, Niall refusing to even let her carry a cup.

 “I know you’re tired because of the house and the pregnancy hasn’t exactly been easy on you, but there’s something else also troubling you, I can tell,” he said, as soon as they were settled into bed, Lucy propped against the headboard, while he sat cross legged in the middle, facing her.

 When he woke up, she didn’t expect him to stay up with her. They went to sleep just a few hours before. Sure, he only had two beers last night, saying he was gonna keep her company in the sober club, even though she insisted she was fine with him having some drinks. So he wasn’t even buzzed anymore, but it was 5 am, he must have been tired. And yet, he was ready to stay up with her, have tea and an actual conversation, just because she couldn’t sleep. That was love, gestures like those only made her appreciate him more and more.

 “It’s just a lot, I don’t know,” she shrugged, not really sure how to even explain her feelings. “I’m anxious about the baby, I wish we were done with the house already and… I just… I don’t know what to do with the training centre.”

 “Well, the house is almost ready and I’m back now, I can handle most of it. Especially the packing, you’ll just sit and give me orders and I’ll get it all done, don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. It’s not good for you nor our little bub,” he marked his words with a gentle hand rubbing her swollen stomach. “And what’s up with the centre? You’ve been having quite a few meetings about it lately, yeah?”

 “Yes and if I was going to pull out, I’d need to do it now.”

 He sat up a bit straighter, looking at her confused. “Wait, why the hell would you pull out? I thought you were excited about it.”

 “I was, yeah, but…” Lucy huffed, playing with a loose thread in the comforter. “Just how will it work? I was hoping to get it done at the end of this year or the start of the new at the latest, but with a kid.. I don't know, I can't do it all.”

 “Hey, it’s alright,” he scooted closer, noticing she was starting to get upset and placing a calming hand on her knee. “You’re not alone in it, love. I’m here,” he assured with a small smile. “And I know I’ve been busy, touring and all, but I’m home now. I’m here for you, we’re in this together, yeah? You’re never alone with anything.”

 “Maybe i should just postpone it. Wait a year or something.” She shrugged again, looking down, her eyes unfocused.

 He licked his lips, thinking of the best response. “You can if you want to. But if not, we can make it work now.”

 Lucy finally raised her head, meeting Niall’s eyes, the look he was giving her nothing but gentle. “I’m just scared that if i put it off now, it’ll never happen,” she admitted. “Because then it’ll probably be another kid, I really doubt we’re gonna be done with one, and just… it’ll fade away.”

 “No, I won't let it, love,” he was quick to assure her, grabbing her hands in his and squeezing. “I know you want it. And if you want it now, we’ll make it happen. Or if you want to wait half a year, or less or more, you’ll do it then. But I’ll make sure it’ll happen for you.”

 Lucy’s lip started wobbling and tears began streaming down her cheeks. Niall reached to wipe them right away, letting go of one of her hands, but still holding the other.

 When she calmed down, he asked, “Tell me how do you see it anyway? I know you want to be involved in it, not just set it up, but do you want to just generally oversee it or train someone or… I don’t know.”

 “Umm… I think oversee mostly,” she said. “Pop in to see how everything’s going. Talk to people, trainers, players… everyone. Conduct training from time to time, but not really regularly. Taking on a player would be too much for me.”

 “Well, couldn’t you do it now?” he asked, giving her a look of confidence. He was always the one who brought her courage when her own ran out. “Like, even soon after our little bug is born, you’d be gone for a couple of hours tops, not everyday,” he explained. “I think it’d be alright. Might even be good for you.”

 “What about the band? Aren’t you planning another album? Another tour?” She asked, not exactly sold on the idea. It was something she’s been turning over in her head, trying to come up with a perfect plan, but she wasn’t sure it existed.

 He shook his head. “There’s gonna be a little version of us both super soon and you expect me to leave for months upon months? No chance.” She chuckles, hitting his arm lightly to make him be serious. “There are plans, yes, we for sure want to continue, but not right away. I mean, we’ll probably pop into the studio from time to time, but no schedule, we just want to relax right now. Put our families first. We’re having a baby. It’s technically a secret, but El’s pregnant as well. Harry is getting engaged…”

 Lucy squeaked in excitement at all those news. “What? El’s having a baby? That’s amazing. And Harry! Finally! Did he get a ring?”

 Niall grinned, finally seeing his wife happy and excited making him feel a bit lighter. “Yeah, showed us like a month ago, fingers crossed he’ll actually man up and pop the question.”

 She giggled. “That’s crazy. Maya has told me that she and Liam had talked about trying for a little one as well. Ahh can you imagine our kids being so close in age?”

 His face matched her grin. “They’d be best friends.”

 “Definitely.”

 “But, to get back on topic, I’ll be staying put for the foreseeable future. Ready to take care of you and our bug and everything. So do your thing, don’t be scared, please. You know we’ll work it out.” He moved to his knees to get close enough to plant a gentle kiss on her lips.

 “Thank you.”

 “You don’t have to thank me, love. I’m your husband, no thank yous needed.” 

 “Yeah, but I still want to thank you,” she marked her words with another kiss. “For being the best husband and the best teammate ever.”

 “You don’t have a lot of experience with teammates though, right?” Niall pointed out with a chuckle. “With tennis being an individual sport and all…”

“Yeah yeah, alright, here’s my trying to be nice and you ruining it. Just like always.”

 He laughed, wrapping his arms around her body and bringing her flush to him. “I love our little team of three.” 

 Lucy went in for yet another kiss, having to agree with him.

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