#into another great prophecy

[bikananjarrus]

it’s really such a crime that rriordan immediately pitted percy and jason against each other when they should’ve immediately bonded over being kidnapped by hera, having their memories erased, and months of time stolen from them. they should’ve been allowed to recognize each other as leaders of their respective camps (and understand what it took to get in that position, because leadership has a cost) and recognize that they are being pushed around the chessboard by the gods AGAIN, and they should’ve gotten the chance to truly combine their strength (with annabeth’s additional leadership skills) and lead the younger members of the seven. and in doing so hera would’ve realized the mistake of giving them common ground, because percy and jason’s combined power? their matching bitterness and contempt for the gods? unmatched. the olympians thought luke was bad, but god help them when percy and jason turn their power onto them

[wizzard890]

Bastian and Volo - The Antichrist and his Hound

There once was a boy who served in a castle. The noble family who lived there paid him no mind.

One day, like a blow through the heart, that boy saw God.

Something bright. Something terrible. Something holy, greater than every blazing star: Bastian, second issue of the Duke of Burgundy, seething and ambitious and wrathful.

Souls depart the body through the eyes; the boy never looked away.

.

Bastian was eighteen when he noticed Volo: the young son of a stablehand who had taught himself to read, to carry, to serve. Desperately ready to file himself into a cold and razored sword for Bastian's hand, if only that hand would close like a collar around his neck.

And so, in time, Bastian seized him.

.

It is your turn to see them now, years on, as the storm gathers.

Ecce homo: A Conqueror on a pale horse, his banners flying behind him, with a hunger for heaven on his lips and a burning crown on his head. But that which truly bears his glory runs at his heel.

Ecce canis: A chaste and brutal Galahad, rimed with frost, leading the legions of his Lord to any end, any dictate, as long as he is granted the final honor of slitting his own throat on Bastian's altar.

They are linked by a silver chain. God to slave, king to knight, love to worship. Even death cannot break it.

.

There once was a dog who served his master. The dragon who holds his leash will never let it go.

[ravencromwell]

The poem evokes human greatness and human vulnerability. People are “godlike” in their courage and skill, but even the greatest mortals fall and clutch the dust between their bloody fingers. The beautiful word minunthadios , “short-lived,” is used of both Achilles and Hector, and applies to all of us. We die too soon, and there is no adequate recompense for the terrible, inevitable loss of life. Yet through poetry, the words, actions, and feelings of some long-ago brief lives may be remembered even three thousand years later.

--Emily Wilson's introduction to the Iliad

[canadiankakashi]

I'm somehow caught up with all my hc povs, that's not normal

[thylacid]

dovewing and ivypool make me sick because nobody understands them like i do

[meticulousmaker]

another random thing that stands out to me rewatching Steven Universe as an adult:

throughout the show there's this clear Vibe that Steven has inherited some big magical destiny, right? and it makes sense narratively: he's the son of Rose Quartz, leader of the rebellion, now being raised by her friends who were the last remaining survivors of an interstellar war. he's like a human child in most ways, except he has magical powers that start to become more obvious as he's getting older. no one like him has ever existed before. it's a big deal. raising him and figuring out how he's going to grow is its own unique challenge, because nobody knows what to expect. so of course there's this magical destiny vibe, given all that.

What's interesting to me, though, is that this magical destiny is in no way literally, physically present in the story, it's just something everyone kinda feels. Like, there's not some ancient prophecy about a half-gem, half-human savior. He's not the Chosen One in any literal sense, he just happens to give off Chosen One vibes. And I say that's interesting because it means that the fact he was kinda raised with this Chosen One vibe is completely a decision everyone around him made, for better or for worse. And the show is aware of this, because the weight of Rose's legacy and everyone's expectations of him is a constant theme, and as Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl all grow and develop, they also realize the downsides of them putting those expectations on a child. Like, Steven spends his whole childhood being told about how great Rose was, and how because he's inherited her gem he will probably inherit her powers - and that's not necessarily a bad thing. Imagine how awful things could have been if Steven had no exposure to the Gems and no knowledge of what they were or how they worked, and then his powers started coming in? It was hard enough even when he was surrounded by the most qualified Gem Experts on Earth. But being primed for all of this "you're going to have your mother's magical powers" stuff put a heavy weight on his shoulders, and then the fact that nobody else quite knew how his abilities worked meant he was constantly faced with the adults in his life looking to him with concern because they didn't know what was happening with him. That's gotta leave an impression on a kid - and, well, throughout the show and especially in SU Future we definitely see that it does.

I like the way the show handles the pressure that's put on him, and the fact that everyone is just... trying their best in a completely unprecedented situation. Nobody knows what to do or how to raise this kid, and that inevitably causes problems but everyone is trying. And Steven can feel that everyone is trying without knowing what to do and he just wants to help and not be a burden and none of his caretakers have said that he's a burden but he can feel everyone's confusion and concern and the expectations he's not living up to and he cares so much, about everyone, about everything. He's in an extremely unique position that grants him opportunities to help that nobody else has, and he feels like he's failing everyone if he can't fulfill that, and in the end it never should have been his job to fix things but somebody had to try. Somebody had to try, and he was one of the only people with the ability to stop the Diamonds, stop the war, stop the lies, stop his world and everyone on it from being destroyed... and he was just a kid.

[hayatheauthor]

Can you post something about different kinds of soulmates? The name on the wrist or red strings are nice but a little overused, maybe. Idk. Do you have anything different?

50 Types of Soulmates in Literature

The soulmate trope might feel pretty cliche to most but I love exploring them (great short story material, esp if you want to twist it into horror/thriller/non romance). Thanks for the ask! I hope this list is what you were looking for: 

Fate-Driven Soulmates

1. Shared Dreams – They meet in their dreams every night/[idea] after they turn [age].

2. Reincarnation– They reincarnate in every era and are destined to meet each time.

3. Aura Bonds – Their auras [change] when they’re near each other.

4. Mirror Messages – They see the other’s face in the mirror when they turn [age].

5. Starbound – Their soulmate’s birth constellation forms on them after their first meeting.

6. Heartbeat Match – Their pulses sync when they meet and get more uneven when they’re apart after that.

7. Shared Memories – They have flashbacks of past lives together.

8. The First Words – Their first spoken words to each other are tattooed on their skin.

9. Fragrance – They recognise each other by a unique scent only one’s soulmate carries (i.e. in the world you can only smell roses on your soulmate).

10. Scars – They have matching scars in the same place since their birth.

11. Colour - They only start seeing colour after meeting their soulmate. Can be changed to sound, touch, smell, etc.

Cultural Soulmates

12. Mehndi Marks - In Indian/Middle Eastern cultures, your soulmate’s name appears in your mehndi/henna.

13. Karmic Threads - In Buddhist traditions, invisible karmic bonds pull them toward one another.

14. Feng Shui Alignment – Their energies perfectly balance according to the Feng Shui elements.

15. Ancestor's Blessing – Their names are revealed through a ritual that summons past ancestors.

16. Name in Flames – In some folk traditions, a fire ceremony reveals their soulmate’s initials in the embers.

17. Feather Match – They exchange feathers that later glow when their soulmate is near.

18. Shared Songlines – In Aboriginal traditions, their paths align on the same Songline.

19. Palm Reading Prophecy – Their soulmate’s features or initials are foretold in their palm lines.

20. Dance of Fate – In certain cultures, a soulmate is revealed during a traditional dance when they naturally pair up.

21. Persian Tea Leaves – Their names appear during tea-reading rituals.

Object-Based Soulmates

22. Lock and Key – Everyone is born with a keyhole shape. When you turn [age] you’re blessed with a key that only fits into your soulmate.

23. Shared Journal – They write in the same journal without knowing how.

24. Twin Trinkets – When born, each person receives a magical [trinket]. Your soulmate has its twin. 

25. Compass of Love – A compass always points them toward their soulmate.

26. Two Halves – They carry two halves of the same [object].

27. Enchanted Maps – A map updates itself with their location when they’re near.

28. Eternal Rings – Rings burn hot or glow when their soulmate is close.

29. Song – When they turn [age] they hear a song sung in their soulmate’s voice. (Interesting: in this world, MC hears nothing. They think they don’t have one, rly their soulmate is just mute). 

Connection Through Nature

30. Tree of Life – Their world has a special garden you go to when you’re [age]. In the garden, a tree starts to grow when two soulmates are near. Note: if they ‘break up’ or one dies, the tree wilts and dies too.  

31. Blooming Flowers – When your soulmate is born, you get a flower bud [different for each]. When you meet the first time, this bud goes into full bloom. If you pass without meeting, it dies. This continues till you actually meet, and the flowers finally [fall off?]

32. Animal Guides – At birth you’re assigned a spirit animal who leads you to your soulmate when the time is right. (Ooh maybe your spirit animals are soulmates too OR hmo: they’re enemies! You haven’t met your soulmate yet because your spirit animals are doing everything to keep you [and themselves] apart). 

33. Shifting Shadows – Their shadows always reach toward the other. When you sleep, your shadows break away and meet each other. 

34. Bound by Seasons – They only meet during a specific season each year. Kind of like a Divergent ‘born into a season’ thing. (But what if a Summer and Winter end up being fated? But they can’t survive in each other’s seasons. [omg Tinkerbell] lol). 

35. Ocean Whispers – It’s said if you go to the ocean’s shore and say something there your soulmate will hear it when they go to the shore. (MC’s soulmate hates the ocean. They’ve never been. One day they finally go, and sit for hours as they listen to messages from their soulmate, who apparently lives by the ocean and has been calling to them every night). 

36. Star-Written Names – When you turn [age] only you see a name written in the stars. That’s your soulmate’s name.

Unconventional Soulmate Tropes

37. Memory Keepers – One soulmate is bound to forget each other in each new life, and the other is fated to remember and find them. The other only remembers if and when they meet. 

38. Parallel Lives – They exist in parallel universes but see glimpses of each other via [plot].

39. Shared Illness – They feel each other’s pain, sickness, and recovery.

40. Shared Mortality – They can only die when they’re together.

41. The Final Wish – When you turn [age] you get to make a wish and your soulmate has to fulfil it in order for you to meet.

42. The Sacrificial Lamb – One is destined to save the other through ultimate sacrifice.

43. The Time Loop – They’re stuck in a loop, meeting repeatedly until they get it right.

44. Dual Souls – They share one soul in two bodies, feeling incomplete without the other.

45. The Undying and the Mortal – One reincarnates endlessly, always finding their soulmate, if they fail to find them, their soulmate will not reincarnate and die forever. Except, you don’t know who’s the immortal one. 

46. Time Stopper: Time stops when you’re with your soulmate. It starts again when you’re apart. 

Sense-Based Soulmates

47. Sight: When you close your eyes you can see what they’re seeing. 

48. Warmth: You feel physically cold everytime you’re without your soulmate. Your heart turns colder every year, till when you’re [age] you both die if you haven’t met.  

49. Colour: You can’t see your soulmate’s eye/hair colour till your first meeting. The issue: they don’t know the colour, so often overlook this change. (Many resort to checking a colour chart every day till they see a new colour). 

50. Touch: You can’t feel anything till your soulmate touches you for the first time. Everything simply feels like its weight, not texture. 

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

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[goldweaverr]

WELL FINE THEN SINCE THE MYDEI X READER TAG IS GONNA STAY THIS DRY, IM GONNA CONTRIBUTE TO IT MYSELF !!!!!! (No spoilers mentioned!! But MDNI there's nsfw)

I've seen possessive Mydei x reader, aggressive Mydei x reader, cocky Mydei x reader, etc, and while all of those are absolutely yummy and very much welcomed, consider the following flavor I'm offering; absolutely desperate Mydei.

Look. Based on everything we've seen of him so far, he definitely has not had opportunities for dating or romance or sex. He doesn't seem like the type to deem these things as silly, stupid, or hindrances that will block his path, but he likely believes they simply have no place in his life. His journey and destiny aren't ones that give him much room to go out, meet people, befriend them, grow to like them, court them, date them, sleep with them, marry them, and so on. That sounds like an entirely foreign concept to him. The furthest his social circle extends to is fellow Chrysos Heirs that the prophecy has placed alongside him as comrades, and the most miraculous extention it ever received was when the two outsiders came into Amphoreus. He certainly would never pursue a fellow Chrysos Heir romantically, as that's entirely unprofessional and could lead to jeopardizing their team dynamic which there is absolutely no room for! So he has resigned to the fact that he will simply be alone for the whole of his immortal life. And that's fine. Okay, maybe not ENTIRELY fine. He does feel like he'd fine the idea appealing, even if only for a flicker of a moment. But those thoughts are anchors that will weight him down. He's got way more important matters at hand. Okhema's safety, the prophecy, the people of his kingdom, Nikador, the outsiders who arrived from beyond the sky, hell even his fellow Chrysos Heirs such as Phainon or the Tribios. So those desires are ones that will be buried alongside many other hopes and wishes he had, but are no longer necessary. He will survive without love, he will be just fine without the touch of another, he will emerge victorious without the need of a congratulatory kiss, he doesn't need these things. They're privileges, not rights.

That is, until, he does meet someone. You.

Perhaps you're a fellow Chrysos Heir. Perhaps you're also one of the outsiders from beyond the sky. Perhaps you're a regular citizen in Okhema. Anything is possible. The occupation or role doesn't matter, what matters is that he finally meets someone who makes it feel like these things ARE necessary and he cannot possibly deny himself of them any longer.

He tries. He tries very hard. Tries avoiding you, tries scaring you off, tries not showing you much interest, tries to let you know without needing to use any words that he's no good for you. You don't know what you'd be getting into with him. But yet you persist. You're just too annoying. Sometimes you flirt, sometimes you tease, sometimes you worry, sometimes it's pure kindness. Whatever your intentions are for the day, they stress him.

Watching him train in the arena when it's entirely empty and then all he hears after destroying every training equipment around him is you clapping, the sound echoing across the empty seats where spectators would usually sit and down to his ears, that are beginning to turn suspiciously red. Coming down to praise him in person, telling him how absolutely attractive it was to watch the great Mydeimos unleash all that pent up rage. And he doesn't know what to do with the moment between the two of you. Running your index finger down his exposed, sweaty chest. Your nail scratching so, so slightly yet so deliciously over his searing hot skin making his breathing pick up the pace under your excruciatingly slow drag, until you reach his pants. You don't break eye contact with him, playful gaze challenging him with mirth. His expression can't be described in the same way. In fact it can hardly be described at all. A strange mixture of want, desire, anger, embarrassment, shyness, happiness, yearning. Whatever emotions you can imagine, you could probably locate somewhere on his face. But one thing remains. It's red. And he stands more stiff than any statue you've seen around the city. You remove your finger just as he was debating making a move forward and walk away, leaving him with way too many thoughts in his head that are making him angry. The anger he can't take out on training dummies. And that makes him even angrier. What a cycle.

He can't get you off of his mind.

Every meeting, you're throwing him glances to catch him staring. He's embarrassed, you smirk. Every time you run into him, there's some teasing remark already on your tongue, a gun ready to fire. He never has a response. Which sucks, because he should be used to this stuff with how much Phainon runs his mouth. But with you, it's different. With Phainon, they tease each other out of the love two friends share. With you, the feeling is entirely different. He can't treat you the same way he treats his friend, because he's not viewing you the same way he views his friend. And that's a scary thought. You've cemented yourself an entirely different category in his heart. Oh, how he hates it. But oh, how he wishes to explore more.

He doesn't think you make him weak. If anything, you make him stronger. It takes strength to face your feelings, it takes strength to tackle desires you've kept buried. Ones you claimed were unnecessary and unneeded. It takes strength to admit that he now has something else he wishes to protect. And he feels like if after a hard battle, he could unwind by laying his head against your chest and falling asleep to the feeling of your fingers in his hair, he'll face his next opponent with so much more power than what his lonely heart usually carries. And he'll face his enemies with a desire to return unscathed, not to battle to the death he will never reach anyway. That takes strength. Strength if he claimed he didn't have in him, he'd be announcing himself weak. He's fought his entire life, matters of the heart isn't where he will surrender. Hell, the last straw may have been watching his terrifying and courageous and powerful lion companion curl into you and purr up a storm. That was just purely offensive. There goes what was left of the Kremnos honor.

But since he will inevitably claim his throne, his people will expect someone else to rule alongside him, wouldn't they? Would they not expect heirs? He cares too much about the honor of his family name to let it die with him. (Even though it literally can't)

So when your teasing gets the better of him again, and it ends with you against the wall, you expected anything out of him. Anger, rage, annoyance, utter domination, demands only a crown prince has the rights to give, anything. But not desperation. Not inexperience. Not a look in his eyes that's full of _*yearning*_ . He wants you so bad it makes him look stupid. People call Phainon a golden retriever boy too much, this one might take the crown actually (Haha)

He stares at your eyes, with a glimmer in his. He stares at your lips, yearning to feel them. It's his first kiss. He knows he'll be clumsy. He knows he'll be inexperienced. He knows it might be embarrassing. But he wants it more than anything right now. His chest heaving slightly, picking up gradually. His hot breath on your face, from his nose and his parted lips. His gaze more intense than the lance of fury's flames. A bead of sweat down his forehead. You lean in closer, encouraging him. Your jaw is grabbed suddenly with cold and sharp armor as lips immediately crash onto yours. A mess of teeth and aggressive kissing and spit and a tongue that doesn't know what it's supposed to be doing and lip bites that may not have been well calculated in terms of pain. This first kiss was a mess, but how passionate it was. How much desire was poured into it. He's not entirely clueless. He's read books, stories. He's heard stories. He knows how it's supposed to go. Not how good it was supposed to feel. You don't want to part away, even as you try to slowly guide him into a less frantic rhythm. Gently leading the way, enough to not scare him off by taking the lead above him. You let him be in control. You know he feels far too vulnerable in the current moment. His body may be reacting off of desire, but his heart is weak and afraid. This moment, despite it's violence, is fragile.

Kissing, and kissing, and so much kissing later, kissing that eventually finds it's rhythm. Kissing that eventually flows like a river. Kissing that ignites a flame of ... Happiness in his heart where fear was beginning to eat away at it. His hand no longer on your jaw, now buried in your hair, holding the back of your head to keep your lips on his. The other arm wrapped around your waist holding your body flush against him. Your arms wrapped around his torso, happy to let his strength carry you as you feel more and more limp. He never knew kissing could be so fun. So romantic. So nice . He could get used to this.

A hand trails lower. His, or yours? It doesn't matter. Clothes are off rather quickly. He's desperate. So desperate.

He prepares you thoroughly. His fingers stretching you to the point of overstimulation. It was not his intention, they've simply been inside you so long that they've gotten to that point. He swears he's only getting you ready properly so you don't get hurt taking his size. He doesn't even say it in any cocky tone, his intention isn't to brag, he's just being honest. He's big, you're not. You'll get hurt. He doesn't want to hurt you. Ever. He loves you. He probably isn't even fully aware how much he's pushing you to the edge, but he does see you grow more and more desperate. Your nails digging into his biceps, and it excites him even more. Burying your head into the space between his neck and shoulders, whining out his name weakly, begging to put it in you already, and it drives him crazy. He's heard his name said in so many different ways. A roar that announces the start of a battle. A cry for help. The pride of his people. The teasing of his friend. The disdain of those who loathe him. The begging for mercy. The casual conversation starter. The acknowledgement of authority. So many different sounds they no longer mean anything to him. But this? This is new. And he likes it. He likes it so much. No tone spoken of his name causes him reaction anymore, but this one lit him on fire. He wants to hear more of it. He wants to hear it all night long.

He doesn't wear much to begin with. But he never feels exposed or vulnerable. His armor is a separator between himself and danger. Shedding off that armor with another person to allow himself into such a weak position felt terrifying, but currently, sinking deep into your warmth, it's never felt safer. A cry of his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, he doesn't even recall people calling Kephale's name with this much worship. And he melts. Figures he could do this forever. How did he ever go on without this?

His rhythm is sloppy, he's not even entirely sure how to set one. He's operating off of something primal right now, all he can do is fuck in and out of the heat that's swallowing him whole. He couldn't stop if he tried, body moving on its own. He stares in awe at where you two connect, watching the repetitive motion with no sign of getting used to it anytime soon. He doesn't even realize — or maybe doesn't even care — about the noises coming out of him. Why should he bother holding back his pleasure? He's never felt anything like this, and it's so thrilling, so exciting, so full of pleasure, that he doesn't care about his image or his behavior at the moment. He gasps, and pants, and breathes heavily, and grunts, and groans, completely overtaken with lust. And that's the dance you two shared throughout the duration of the entire night. Although the sun never stops shining in Okhema.

Mydei is a fast learner, and eventually establishes a rhythm for how he does things. From kissing romantically, to fucking into you relentlessly. But it certainly doesn't come easy, not without many, many more demonstrations first <3

[theplotmage]

50 Fantasy Prompts: Cultures and Societies. Writers Save this!

1. Luminae

- A society that worships light and revolves around bioluminescent creatures.

- Gesture: Raising both hands to the sky and opening palms to signify receiving light.

- View: Light is considered the purest form of energy and the ultimate source of life.

2. Mistral Nomads

- Wind travelers who harness the power of the breeze for navigation and communication.

- Gesture: Whispering into a small vial and releasing it into the wind, symbolizing sending a message.

- View: The wind carries the voices of ancestors and guides the living.

3. Veilwalkers

- Inhabitants of the mist who can see and manipulate spirits.

- Gesture: Drawing a veil across the face to communicate with spirits.

- View: The world of the living and the dead are separated by a thin veil that can be crossed.

4. Starforged

- People born under specific constellations with unique abilities tied to their birth star.

- Gesture: Touching a constellation tattoo to activate its power.

- View: Stars are the eyes of the gods, watching over and guiding them.

5. Shadecloaks

- Masters of shadow magic, living in perpetual twilight.

- Gesture: Merging fingers into the shadows, symbolizing blending into the darkness.

- View: Shadows are protective, hiding them from danger and giving them strength.

6. Seraphians

- Winged beings who consider themselves guardians of the skies.

- Gesture: Unfurling wings in a greeting, showing trust and openness.

- View: The skies are sacred, and flight is a divine gift.

7. Pyrosages

- Fire-wielders who live in harmony with volcanic landscapes.

- Gesture: Holding a flame in one hand while placing the other hand over the heart, symbolizing passion and life.

- View: Fire is a cleansing force, both destructive and renewing.

8. Aquafolk

- Ocean dwellers with the ability to breathe underwater and communicate with marine life.

- Gesture: Creating ripples in water with a fingertip to convey emotions.

- View: Water is a mirror of the soul, reflecting true feelings and intentions.

9. Silvan Elves

- Forest guardians who blend seamlessly with their environment.

- Gesture: Touching foreheads with a leaf, symbolizing unity with nature.

- View: All life is interconnected through the roots of the great tree.

10. Necrochanters

- A culture deeply connected to the afterlife, able to communicate with and summon spirits.

- Gesture: Drawing a circle with ashes to summon spirits.

- View: Death is not the end but a transformation to another state of being.

11. Stonekin

- Rock-like beings who can manipulate earth and stone.

- Gesture: Pressing a hand to the ground to communicate with the earth.

- View: The earth holds ancient wisdom and the memories of their ancestors.

12. Aetherians

- Masters of air magic, capable of floating and flying at will.

- Gesture: Raising arms and fingers to mimic the flow of air currents.

- View: The air is filled with invisible threads that connect all living beings.

13. Chronomancers

- Time-benders who can manipulate past, present, and future.

- Gesture: Tapping a timepiece rhythmically to alter time flow.

- View: Time is fluid and can be molded to fit the needs of the moment.

14. Dreamforgers

- People who can enter and manipulate dreams.

- Gesture: Weaving fingers in intricate patterns while in a trance.

- View: Dreams are a bridge between realities, holding power and prophecy.

15. Sunseekers

- Pilgrims who follow the path of the sun, gaining strength from its light.

- Gesture: Holding a hand above the heart to swear oaths under the sun’s gaze.

- View: The sun’s light is a witness to all promises, giving them sacred weight.

16. Frostborn

- Ice-dwellers with control over cold and frost.

- Gesture: Exhaling a cold breath to signify agreement or truth.

- View: Ice preserves and protects, holding the essence of life.

17. Songhearts

- A musical culture that uses songs and sound for magic.

- Gesture: Placing a hand over the throat and singing a single note to show sincerity.

- View: Music is the language of the heart and the most honest form of communication.

18. Runecarvers

- Inscribers of powerful runes that grant various abilities.

- Gesture: Tracing runes in the air or on surfaces to cast spells.

- View: Runes are the written words of the gods, containing immense power.

19. Stormcallers

- Masters of weather, able to summon and control storms.

- Gesture: Raising a staff to the sky to summon storms.

- View: Storms are the breath of the gods, bringing both fury and renewal.

20. Plainsriders

- Nomadic horsemen known for their speed and agility.

- Gesture: Drawing a circle in the dirt with a foot to mark territory or signal peace.

- View: The open plains are a vast, sacred expanse that must be respected.

21. Mycologians

- Mushroom-like beings who can communicate through spores.

- Gesture: Spreading spores by tapping a mushroom cap to communicate.

- View: Fungi are the bridge between life and decay, recycling energy.

22. Glimmerfolk

- Glittering, gem-encrusted people who can harness the power of precious stones.

- Gesture: Touching gemstones to channel their energy.

- View: Crystals are vessels of ancient power and knowledge.

23. Thornclad

- A warrior culture clad in thorny armor, known for their fierce combat skills.

- Gesture: Clasping hands with thorned gloves to signify a bond or agreement.

- View: Pain and resilience are intertwined, symbolizing strength.

24. Celestials

- Star-born beings with a deep connection to the cosmos.

- Gesture: Drawing constellations in the air with glowing fingers.

- View: The night sky is a map of destiny, guiding their every action.

25. Inkshapers

- People who can bring drawings and tattoos to life.

- Gesture: Drawing a symbol on their skin to activate a spell.

- View: Ink and art are extensions of the soul, capable of bringing thoughts to life.

26. Mirageweavers

- Desert dwellers who can create illusions and mirages.

- Gesture: Waving hands to create illusions and mirages.

- View: Reality is fluid and can be shaped by perception and will.

27. Echoers

- A culture that communicates and fights using echoes and soundwaves.

- Gesture: Clapping or snapping fingers to create soundwaves for communication.

- View: Sound is a powerful force that can shape the world around them.

28. Ironveins

- Metal manipulators who can shape and control metal at will.

- Gesture: Clenching fists to channel metal manipulation.

- View: Metal is a living force, constantly evolving and reacting.

29. Wyrmkin

- Dragon-like people with scales and the ability to breathe fire.

- Gesture: Exhaling a plume of smoke or fire to show respect or power.

- View: Dragons are the ultimate beings, embodying wisdom and might.

30. Duskborn

- Night-dwellers who gain strength from the moon.

- Gesture: Holding a candle to their chest, symbolizing the light within the darkness.

- View: Darkness is not to be feared, but embraced as a part of the natural cycle.

31. Crystalhearts

- A society with crystalline bodies that can refract light and energy.

- Gesture: Touching their heart crystal to show honesty and purity.

- View: Crystals are the heart of their being, reflecting their true selves.

32. Skyforgers

- Builders of floating cities and airships.

- Gesture: Hammering an invisible anvil to craft objects from thin air.

- View: The sky is a forge, and they are its smiths, creating wonders from the air.

33. Leafkin

- Plant-based beings who can photosynthesize and communicate with flora.

- Gesture: Placing a leaf in the palm to connect with nature.

- View: Leaves and trees are the lifeblood of the earth, nourishing all.

34. Sandshapers

- Desert people who can control and shape sand.

- Gesture: Drawing patterns in the sand to communicate or cast spells.

- View: Sand is a canvas for their magic, constantly shifting and changing.

35. Moonshadow Elves

- Elves who live in the shadows of the moon, skilled in stealth and night magic.

- Gesture: Casting moonlight on their face to invoke lunar power.

- View: The moon is a guide and protector, influencing their magic and lives.

36. Bloodrunes

- Warriors who use their own blood to inscribe powerful runes.

- Gesture: Pricking a finger to draw blood and create runes.

- View: Blood is the essence of life, and through it, they gain power.

37. Dreambinders

- People who can link their dreams to reality.

- Gesture: Twining fingers together to weave dreams into reality.

- View: Dreams are powerful forces that can shape and change the world.

38. Thunderclans

- Tribes who worship and control thunder and lightning.

- Gesture: Stamping feet or clapping hands to summon thunder.

- View: Thunder is the voice of the gods, a call to action and power.

39. Feywilders

- Inhabitants of the fey realm with unpredictable and chaotic magic.

- Gesture: Dancing in a circle to invoke fey magic.

- View: The fey are mischievous yet powerful, their magic a blend of chaos and beauty.

40. Mirrorborn

- People who can step through and manipulate mirrors.

- Gesture: Touching mirrors to travel or communicate.

- View: Mirrors are portals to other realities, reflecting infinite possibilities.

41. Wispwalkers

- Ethereal beings who guide lost souls.

- Gesture: Holding a wisp of light to guide lost souls.

- View: Wisps are guides and protectors, leading them through darkness.

42. Frostweavers

- Ice artisans who create intricate and magical ice sculptures.

- Gesture: Weaving ice crystals into intricate patterns.

- View: Ice is a delicate and beautiful force, capable of great power.

43. Starwardens

- Celestial knights who protect the realms from cosmic threats.

- Gesture: Drawing star maps in the air to invoke celestial power.

- View: The stars are guardians, watching over and protecting them.

44. Emberkin

- Fire-dwellers with control over embers and ash.

- Gesture: Snapping fingers to produce sparks and embers.

- View: Embers hold the remnants of fire’s spirit, representing both the end and beginning of the flame.

45. Oceanborne

- Sea nomads who can control the tides and waves.

- Gesture: Drawing water symbols in the air to summon sea spirits.

- View: The sea is a vast, living entity, a source of mystery and power.

46. Windwhisperer

- Communicators with the wind, able to send messages across great distances.

- View: The sky is a living entity, responsive to the voices of those who respect it.

- Gesture: Moving gracefully to mimic the flow of the wind.

47. Etherseekers

- Gesture: Holding out their hands to draw ether into themselves.

- View: The ether is a vast reservoir of magic, accessible to those who seek it.

48. Twilight Guardians:

- Gesture: Holding a lantern to light the way through twilight.

- View: Twilight is a sacred time, a bridge between day and night.

49. Windwalkers

- Gesture: Moving gracefully to mimic the flow of the wind.

- View: The wind is a messenger of the gods, carrying whispers of destiny and change.

50. Eclipsewatchers

-Gesture: Covering one eye while the other remains open to signify balance

- View: Eclipses represent the merging of light and dark, a time of balance and reflection.

[phantasmicfish]

So I saw Dune Part 2 yesterday and I was initially super crushed because of the deviation from book canon but the more I think about it the more I sorta like it…

So without further ado here’s a list of stuff I liked about Dune Part 2:

- all the scenes initially of Paul growing closer to the Fremen. You can clearly see that they become friends, accept him as a Feydakin, that they’re laughing, joking, hanging out. (And contrast that to the end of the movie, where Paul has no more Fremen friends, only followers. In the book, this is echoed, where Paul recognizes that he has lost his friends to the Muad’Dib religion. Take book Stilgar, who truly embodies this… by the end of the book, Paul says: “I have seen a friend [Stilgar] become a worshipper.”

- giving Chani explicit rejection of Paul’s messiah status was an interesting choice. Chani’s main thought over part 2 is that they don’t need religion to save them, that through Fremen power and desert power, the Fremen can save themselves. She recognizes that this fanatical worship can be a vehicle to control and enslave her people, and I sorta wish we saw Paul lean into that more… that they found a way to stay together and ‘fight’ the prophecy together based on Chani’s ideals…

- also, I love how engrained this rejection of religion and prophecy is in her character. Book Chani takes no issue with her Fremen name, Sihaya (desert spring), but movie Chani hates it “because it’s part of some prophecy.” Later, we see that despite her rejection of prophecy and religion, that the prophecy does indeed come to pass— the tears of desert spring save Him aka, Chani saving Paul after he drinks The Water of Life. (Interesting how Jessica has to force Chani to save Paul using the Voice… another example of Jessica explicitly forcing Paul to become the messiah).

- adding more depth to Fremen culture— the South being the more religious fundamentalist tribes vs the North being more secular. Early on, the movie paints this immediate divide between the tribes of Fremen who accept Paul and Jessica versus those who treat them as offworlders (who murdered Jamis). In the books everyone accepts Paul and Jessica after Paul bests Jamis and Jessica quotes some scripture, but I think it makes more logical sense that there’d be friction over these two random offworlders coming in

- I love love loved Paul speaking at the meeting of the Fremen tribe leaders in the South. He fully accepts his messiah status, exercises his power of the Voice + his prescience as a way to command all the Fremen under his name

- I’m a big fan of omitting the two-year time skip, so with that I’m glad Leto II was skipped over entirely. I always felt that Leto II was an unnecessary character addition to the book, especially when he just dies and everyone sort of goes “oh well” and moves on, so I’m glad it’s omitted.

- another interesting choice was to paint Jessica as a straight up villain in comparison to the way her book counterpart was not. The movie Jessica we see here is seemingly corrupted by the Water of Life: she walks around talking to herself (Alia) and scheming Paul’s ascent to Lisan-Al Gaib. She knows about the Holy War, which is the very thing Paul is trying to prevent, yet she expresses no concern about bringing it to fruition. (Probably because Jessica knows it’s impossible to prevent, but still.) The very last line of the movie, where Alia asks Jessica what’s going on and Jessica says “The Holy War has begun” is just total villain in my mind— explicit acceptance of the Holy War, like it’s just another stepping stone in her plan. Plus, the fact that Paul has visions of Jessica leading him into this period of great starvation totally cements her as a villian.

- going off of that, I like that we see Jessica undergoing actual agony when she takes The Water of Life. When book Jessica and Paul take The Water of Life they accept it calmly and without obvious pain (book Jessica was sitting with her eyes closed, as if sleeping), so this physical reaction that Jessica has to the poison adds to the idea that The Water of Life did change her in a negative way.

- I feel like so far we’ve been introduced to Alia as just a weird talking fetus who’s been consorting with Jessica, so Paul’s vision where Alia says “I love you” really strikes home, that she really does care for Paul which we might not have understood otherwise

[afeastfortuna]

No one talks enough about the fact Annabeth first heard the Great Prophecy when she was twelve. It scared her so much she had nightmares about it.

She knew (or at least believed) from the moment Percy was claimed he wouldn't make it past his 16th birthday.

Imagine Annabeth telling herself he's a bit of an idiot anyway, and a son of Poseidon, you can't really like him?

Imagine Annabeth finally accepting he's a friend, only to have nightmares of Thalia's death... except when she looks down it's Percy on the ground.

Imagine Annabeth hating that spark of hope she felt when Thalia came back, older, but not old enough, because she's going to lose one of her best friends and she's just got Thalia back.

Imagine Annabeth finally accepting that if she's going to lose Percy she shouldn't waste time, and asking him to the cinema, only to see him with another girl and realising she was too late.

Imagine Annabeth speaking at his funeral, looking across the crowd and seeing him standing there, and realising that it means she'll have to do this all over again.

Imagine Annabeth, who wants to become an architect so she can build something permanent, knowing that whatever she has with Percy can only end all too soon.

[oleworm]

“But this is not that king, nor is this his song.”

Aegon, inspired by this portrait of Stephen of Blois. Drawing by my friend. They also wrote some meta about it, under the cut. The quote is from The Green Knight (2021).

“His name should be “the Unfortunate.” Or, perhaps, “the Unready.”

In his behaviours, crimes and heroics, he feels like a quintessential local king. I have too little care for the ethics of feudalism to pretend that one bleached flea is more moral than another, I am not going to justify this fictional fool or any of his fellow ticks on the bodies of kingdoms.

I like his story though. The way he viciously rejects his heritage and embraces it at the same time, more Andal than Valyrian who still holds the strongest bond with the physical manifestation of Valyrian ideas, something that both upholds and discredits their predatory traditions. A king doomed by others to become a king, the one who doesn’t want to rule but grows into it to the point of giving his all. He’s ready to fight and burn among his people when they show him loyalty but turns cruel and unstable when they defy him. His future is bleak, his past is disgusting. Remember those lines in The Green Knight film? “Is this all there is?” - “What else ought there to be?” He’s not Gawain, of course. Please give me Plato’s number, I’m going to telephone him to hear his hot take on this shit.

But I find a pleasant fatalism in that he’s not only chosen by his family to play a role of a contender, those who then wash their hands of it, but also in how his story comes from a faux chronicle of events long gone, done and decided, a story that might be tweaked here and there, but will not be rewritten. It’s almost like he is aware in a fun way that he is long doomed—and tries to flee unsuccessfully, cowardly, violently even, only to be brought back into the cycle that must continue like the chains on his neck. They imply Rhaenyra is one of the prophecies, but him fleeing his destiny and fitting it so well resembles one of the many doomed kings from the old tales, the crowned blaze in the shape of a man doomed to face his grim fate no matter how far he has gone to escape it. But he is not that king. His song seems of a different breed. The unwilling and unworthy man cursed with the scourge of greatness. I think he should die in a public mass cannibalism incident.”

[fizzyorange-v2]

makes a truly depressing amount of sense that evan is so deeply, existentially terrified of being trapped in a narrative when you remember that he was born the classic dark evil wizard trope prophesied presumably to bring about some great magic chaos and destruction and he tried desperately to escape that narrative and destiny all his life by trying so hard to be good and kind and rejecting his demons despite every awful thing he’d been through…..

…which then actually, accidentally did lead to him fulfilling that world ending destiny anyway, by causing The Breaking when he uploaded all those magical books online trying so so hard to do the right thing.

no matter if he accepted his destiny or actively rejected it, the prophecy still came true. he still always hurt people. he’s damned to the nature of his character archetype, and deep down he’s always known it.

basically, this poor guy has been trapped in a doomed inescapable narrative from birth. of course the possibility of getting sucked into another caused him to have a full evan kelmp level freak out lol. him quite literally trying to escape a narrative this episode is so on the nose it’s hilarious

[bet-on-me-13]

Wes ruins everything

Wes had finally done it, he had finally realized why nobody ever belived him about Fenton and Phantom! It made so much sense now, he had been looking for an answer for years, thinking he was going crazy because everybody refused to see the Obvious!

He was Cursed!

He literally had an Ancestoral Curse on his Bloodline that made it so that all those born with the gift of Prophecy would be ignored! A Gift of Prophecy that he apparently had.

It was Cassandra's Curse, the one from Greek Myths. Apparently she was his Great×1000 Grandmother and passed down the Gift (and Curse) of Prophecy to him. And he knew how to break it!

All he needed to do was gather the right resources, chant the correct incantations, make sure not to accidentally summon a Demon in the process, and he could just foist the Curse onto some other poor schmuck. Sure it would suck for them, and he would loose his Gift of Prophecy, but Wes had been ignored for Years at this point, he needed validation!

So he did the Ritual, and he didn't mess it up, and he managed to get rid of the Curse.

Now all he had to do was convince everybody that he was right for the first time in his life! This was going to be great!

...

Cass didn't know what was going on.

A while ago, she had started getting these...gut feelings that she couldn't explain.

She would look over the details of a Case her Family was working on, and see a patern that the others were seemingly ignoring. Like when she realized that The Penguin was about to raid the Docks on the East Side, but the others were convinced it was going to be on the West.

But when she had tried to tell them, they had brushed her off. "We've already concluded that he will begin the Raid on the West side, no need to go to the East."

She had gone anyways, and low and behold she had been right. But nobody even acknowledged that she had been right at all, they had just wondered how they had missed the signs, not even questioning how she had known.

It wasn't limited to Cases either. Even small things, like telling her brother's where the TV remote was were brushed off, and hours later they would still be looking, never even having checked where she told them.

It seemed that no matter what, nobody cared about her point of view anymore. They kept brushing her off, telling her she was wrong, actively ignoring her ideas.

And it was getting worse. They were starting to ignore her more and more, forgetting she was in the room, not calling her down for Dinner, even forgetting to check in on her during Patrol.

She knew that there must be something going on, Magical or otherwise, but when she tried bringing it up with her Dad or JLD, they would also Brush her off.

Her Family was forgetting her. And they didn't even realize it.

...

Danny was not okay at the moment.

When he had gone to school a few weeks ago and noticed everybody staring at him, he didn't give it much thought. Maybe Dash or Paulina had spread another Rumor about him again, not too out of the ordinary.

When his name had been called over the Intercom, he hadn't thought much of that either. His grades were falling even more than usual, so he assumed his Guidance Counselor wanted to have another talk with him.

When he walked into the Principals Office to see both of his Parents and some GIW Agents, that's when he realized something big must have happened.

He didn't have much of a chance to react when the Shields went up, but he did react when the first Ecto-Blast scorched the wall behind him. His Parents began to scream at him as they fired their Blasters, something about replacing somebody? He didn't know, he was pretty preoccupied at the moment.

It took more effort than he cared to admit to escape the Room, but a stray shot to the hidden Shield Projector under the Principals Desk proved to be his saving grace. Unfortunately the moment he escaped the Office, he was met with a veritable Army of GIW Agents, all armed to the Teeth with Weapons he had never even seen before.

He managed to get away for a moment, hiding in the Bathroom as the Agents chasing him passed it by. That's when he met Wes.

He obviously hadn't been expecting him, but the moment he saw him Wes put on a smug look. "Oh hi Fenton, trying to get away from the other students?"

Danny had replied with confusion, "What the hell are you talking about?!"

"I finally managed to convince everybody about you, now everyone knows that you're Phantom! I'll bet you're hiding from all of the other Students hounding you for questions right?"

"...it was you?"

"Yeah, so? I finally get to be right!"

"...You absolute MORON-"

That was the last Danny got to say to Wes before an Ecto-Blast launched him through a Wall, seeing his face morph into a look of Shock just before the dust cloud covered it up.

Since that day, Danny had been on the Run. Nowhere was safe anymore now that the GIW knew both his Human and Ghost's faces, but he had to keep running. He crossed state Lines already, and was on his way to the next Ecto-Rich City he could sense, somewhere in New Jersey.

He cursed his Fenton Luck every day. Why had everybody believed Wes this time?! Nobody had ever belived him before, nobody even seemed to acknowledge his existence after a while! What had changed?

Danny just wanted to rest already.

...

Cass had taken to Patrolling alone recently. She had taken to doing a lot of things alone, actually.

After the first month, it seemed that nobody could remember that she was in the room with them, even if she was within their eyeline, she just faded into the background. By the 2 Month Mark they had stopped talking to her entirely, although occasionally she would get a Text or two from her dad. By the 3 month Mark she was completely invisible, and By the 5th she had been forced to get used to it.

She didn't know what was going on, was it a Meta Ability? Magic? Alien Tech? She had no idea.

She had begun to cook for herself after the first time Alfred forgot to set her Plate at the Table. The same with Washing her own Clothes, Cleaning her Room, and Paying her Phone Bills. At the very least the Automated Allowance Payments to her Account had kept up, or she wouldn't have been able to go to her favorite Cafe anymore.

It was bittersweet for her. She used to go to that Cafe every week with Alfred, but he didn't even come on his own anymore. Had he only come for her? Did she really mean that much to them? It hurt, she finally had a family that cared for her and suddenly she didn't exist to them.

She sat alone at a Table, ignored by everyone in the Cafe as usual, when a new face walked in. He looked about her age, a little roughed up, walking with a sort of cautious gaint, as if he was scared of something. His Body Language seemed to agree with her assessment, as his body practically screamed "Worry" in its movements.

Cass stopped watching at that point. Just another Gotham Teen, probably worried over something like getting not having enough money or getting mugged on the way home. It was a Common sight in Gotham.

She attention was pricked again for a moment when she heard a voice speak up. "Uh, can I sit here?"

She ignored it, he wasn't talking to her.

"Um, excuse me? Miss? Could I sit here?" He repeated.

She ignored him again, he wasn't talking to her. Nobody talked to her.

"Hello? Do you have Earbuds in?" He said, and he waved his hand in front of her face.

Her face. He waved his hand. In front of Her Face.

He was talking to her.

She looked up at him sharply, seeming to startle him for a moment before he asked, "So, is that a no?"

"You can see me?" She asked.

He looked a bit bewildered, but replied "Uh, yeah? Why would I not? Are you...a Ghost?". That last part sounded a bit suspicious.

"No. Not a Ghost. But nobody sees me. Ever. Nobody remembers me." She replied. She had never spoken this much to anybody outside of her Family, but in the past few weeks she had been starved for interaction.

He seemed slightly interested, and sat down at her table. He looked her in the eyes, and said "Do you...talk about it?"

She smiled. He could see her.

[reidrum]

let it once be me | the prophecy part 3

note: hey ,,, remember her ,,,,,,,,, ! feeling hashtag nervous to post this but pls tell me ur thoughts this went through !!! so many drafts !!! almost lost my mind like thirty times lol but thank u for reading <3 (reading prior parts may be helpful in having context for this part but im not really sure it's necessary, they're way shorter than this part either way)

summary: you and spencer are faced with yet another wedge in your relationship, and you're not sure if it'll survive this time

cw: heavy spoilers for everett lynch arc (15.10), we're ignoring the cm tl and time doesn't exist, maeve flashback, hurt/comfort, angst, happy ending !

wc: 8k (wtf)

part 1 part 2 part 3

Spencer feels he’s lived many lives, and that his lived experiences have thoroughly prepared him to navigate novel situations with a small familiarity. A cushion really, to allow him the comfort of seeing the path before he has to walk it blind. It almost acts as a sense of pride for him, a testament to what he’s overcome and capable of facing.

There’s nothing prideful about how awful things have been going with you.

It’s been weeks since your talk with him. Weeks since he vowed to prove to you that you were it for him, and he’s made so little progress he finds it embarrassing for someone with his caliber of intellect.

He’s toeing a fine line between being in your presence enough for you to see that he’s trying, and giving you  space so that you don’t feel smothered. It was harder in the immediate days after your talk, when you couldn’t even stand to stay in the same room as him for more than five minutes. You had come home to his apartment the day after having decided Penelope had enough of your moping. Once you got in you immediately went to settle into the guest room.

It was near radio silent between you both those first few days. He didn’t want to force you, but it didn’t feel great when you would leave a room as soon as he’d enter. As the days went on, Spencer started getting resourceful. He’d make you breakfast in the morning and leave it on the table for you, your coffee next to it made exactly how you take it. Then it was little notes left in the most random places, all written with different things he loved about you. He never saw your reaction when you read them, but they’d always disappear from its spot the next day. Little things to remind you he’s there for you.

More days passed and it finally felt like the ice was starting to melt away. You’d started lingering longer in the living room if he was sat at the table still. One time you even made breakfast for the both of you, and although you weren’t there to eat it with him Spencer had never felt more hopeful.

In the field your dynamics changed even more. Normally, he would make sure to be paired up with you in the field to personally ensure that you were being safe. Since the fallout however, he didn’t want to be an unwelcome presence that only left you more tense in high stake situations. So he’d do things like privately tell Emily to double check your bulletproof vest, or make sure Luke was at your 6 if he couldn’t do it himself.

The last thing he wanted was for your current circumstance with each other, one that he knows he created, to distract you in the field and god forbid cause something to happen to you. He would never forgive himself if you got hurt because of him, but Spencer remembers he’s already done the worst hurt he can fathom to you, and what he really means is that he can’t afford to hurt you any further. As much as it worried him to do so, he had reluctantly learned to place some trust in his teammates to keep you safe. It was a balance he’d learned to adapt to.

It worked fine until it didn’t.

The silent car ride from the jet back to your apartment was so thick with tension, but not the one you’ve both become accustomed to over the weeks. No this was a different strain of anger, one that descended down to the primal nature of your relationship—you endangering yourself.

Spencer opens the door, barely waiting for you to enter behind him before slamming it shut. “That, what you did today, was fucking reckless.”

The anger flares through your widened eyes, “Reckless? I saved the hostages, Spencer. He would have killed them!”

“And what about you?”

“What about me, I had it handled.” you huff.

He raises his hands in exasperation, “He had a gun to your head!” he yells, “You have no idea what it’s like to see that.”

“This isn’t the first time someone drew a weapon on me, and there’s definitely more times than I can count when they’ve drawn one on you,” you pause, “Or is it different right now because you got deja vu?”

“What’s that supposed to mean—” Spencer’s face pales in recognition, “That’s not fair.”

“The hell do you mean it’s not fair? You expect me to believe otherwise?”

“He was going to shoot you!” he loudly repeats, “You don’t think I care about your safety?”

“I think you only give a shit right now because you thought another girl you loved was about to get her brains blown out in front of you. Again.”

He’s stunned into silence. Your words feel like a paralytic to Spencer. Like venom slowly traveling down his veins seizing any chance for his body to save himself. All the progress he thinks you both have made just unraveled itself into nothing. It’s paradoxical that his mind is quiet. You’re usually the reason his mind can relax, but somehow you’ve achieved the same outcome by metaphorically stabbing him square in the face.

He can’t understand when you developed the idea that he could care less about you. He can’t understand how you can even think he would be capable of 

of not being with you entirely. He can’t understand where along the line you started believing that he stopped loving you.

It may not be a sentiment you actually hold, but he prides himself on being a good profiler, and more so knowing you better than himself. He knows that’s what you’re thinking, and there’s nothing he can do to fix it.

He speaks under his breath after a couple of minutes,  “How long are we going to keep doing this?”

“Doing what—“

“This!” He gestures wildly with his hands. “This back and forth where you’ve convinced yourself you’re able to move past this but clearly can’t!”

You stare at him, “Look, I’m trying.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

The familiar sting burns the backs of your eyes, the first sign of your resolve crumbling. “That’s not fair.”

He sighs and moves closer, your head hanging low and finding the wooden floor patterns deeply interesting. “You won’t even look at me.” he whispers, “Do you still love me?”

You look up at him stunned, “Spencer…I—I do…It’s just…”

He feels his heart breaking in a new way, “That’s not convincing.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No, I guess I can't,” he shakes his head defeatedly. “I don’t know what else I can do, baby.”

“…I want to forgive you.”

Spencer’s eyes blur from tears, “But you can’t.”

“I don’t know how,” you whisper before a sardonic chuckle leaves you, “You know me, memory like an elephant.”

Spencer refrains from telling you that dolphins are actually the species with the longest memory capacity, and that the reason for possessing such a feature is to maintain the social dynamics and relationships that come with survival in the ocean. A dolphin’s memory is what keeps them rooted back to where they belong, being able to remember individuals and behaviors even after being apart for so long. That no matter how far they stray, they’ll always come home. 

He settles for a soft agreement, “Yeah, I do know you.”

You make the mistake of meeting his eyes, equally and tragically as broken as yours, puffy and red rimmed.

“I don’t know what to do.” you whisper brokenly.

“I don’t either.”

The silence weighs heavy in the living room. The metronomic tick of the clock becomes louder, the birds and the wind outside whistle louder. You’re cornered, forced to come to face the results. And like a prey backed into the corner you do what the prey do best—You run.

“I have to go.” you grab the keys and put your shoes on.

“What?” he steps closer, “You can’t just leave, we just got home.”

“I can’t be here right now,” your voice cracks, “I just…need some time to think.”l

Spencer’s heart falls straight through the floor. Time to think about what? Is this when the foundation beneath you both finally buckles under the immense pressure it’s been on for weeks, and you’re left to scavenge the ruins?

As much as it pains him to let you walk out the door, he knows that nothing would be accomplished at home and it would only hurt you more to stay.

“Okay.” he whispers.

“Okay.”

“Be safe.” I love you.

You look back, “I will. You too.” I love you too.

The door shuts gentler this time, as if careful not to disturb the few pieces of Spencer still left standing behind the door. It doesn’t matter, they’ve already fallen over. Any resolve he had left is slipping away with every step you take further away, never feeling more defeated in his life than this moment.

He trudges over to the study, hoping he can at least bury himself in work to distract himself from the turmoil of his reality. The desk is strewn across with files and papers, mentally making a list of the tasks he has to do. At the top of his to-do list is the Everett Lynch case, having just closed the case a few days back meaning the paperwork would be due to the brass soon.

Spencer glances over the open file and reviews the details of the final moments of the case, recalling the stark change in Lynch’s MO that still left him puzzled. The victimology and the profile just didn’t add up to what actually happened, why he ended up dying with his mother in the house. That wasn’t supposed to happen, Spencer wasn’t supposed to send five SWAT agent in not knowing their fate only seconds later. How the case simply ended anticlimactically after nearly a year long chase. A dull ache begins to form in his head as he thinks, the bureau is going to have a field day processing this case.

He rubs his forehead with his hand to soothe the pain building up, making a note to get painkillers after he finishes. As he continues to read the file he starts to see his confusion take a basis as the initial profile doesn’t add up at all to what actually happened, in fact for as long as he evaded the FBI he really shouldn’t have just, died.

Spencer freezes. Did he die?

Lynch wouldn’t just commit suicide, that was too easy. He watched the house blow up with him and his mother inside, not even including the agents the explosion took out with it. The pain in his head is too much to bear at this point and he decides that getting Advil can’t wait until he’s done. He stands up and immediately wobbles as he grips the desk for support. Through the blurred vision and spinning room Spencer tries to makes sense of Lynch’s discrepancy. 

Everett Lynch wouldn’t commit suicide, because he didn’t. 

“He’s still alive.” he realizes gravely. Then it all goes black.

———

You get in your car and drive off to god knows where, just not there. It’s sheer autopilot driving you to the other side of town, which is more than welcomed as the tears threaten to blur your vision coming down in hot trails. You end up pulling into the parking lot of your favorite donut shop, one that you discovered with Spencer a little before you started dating. There was time to kill after being paired up to visit the unsub’s  dump site and you were so insistent about needing a sweet treat, Spencer thought it was clinical.

“You’re acting like you’ll die if we don’t stop for a, what did you call it? A sweet treat?”

“I will!” you whine, “Don’t you know that girls, specifically me, are mandated to have at least one sweet treat per day?”

He pulls into the parking lot of the donut shop he’d spotted on the way there. “Oh yeah? What happens if you don’t?” he teases.

“You’ll see me as the unsub in the next case.”

Spencer can’t help the laugh that leaves him, loud and earnest. “Alright, c’mon. We already have enough criminals to last us till retirement.”

You and Spencer are definitely not together at this moment in time, but the little old lady owner of the shop really can’t believe otherwise as she watches you both bicker about which flavors you’re getting for the half dozen box. She’s almost certain you’re together as she watches Spencer end up getting all the flavors you wanted despite putting up a fight for others. And she’s fully convinced, with no room for sway, that you are together as Spencer pulls his card out before you can even protest and watches as you miss the look he gives you as you dramatically sigh in content after the first bite.

Spencer would later tell you after a few months together, that the donut shop was the first time he realized he was in love with you. You recall how the same half dozen would appear on your desk every Friday since that first visit, with one chocolate sprinkled donut missing but placed on a napkin on Spencer’s desk. You would joke that he pavloved his way into your heart with donuts, but wouldn’t reveal your true cards that you fell in love with Spencer after a month on the job. The donut shop happened the week after.

“You alright, hon?” the little old lady owner breaks your thoughts.

You look around and realize you’ve walked yourself into the shop. You wipe at your eyes quickly, “I’m okay, Dolores. Can I just get the usual half dozen please?”

She’s not convinced but it seems she knows better than to ask and pry. She gathers the usual six donuts for the box, slipping in an extra one just for good measure, and rings you up at the register.

“Seven right?” you mumble as you file through your bag for the loose ten.

Dolores smiles, “It’s on the house today, hon. Don’t worry.”

You look up at her, knowing she’s only doing that because you showed up with tear streaks on your face, “Oh, no it’s okay you don’t have to do that let me just—“

She pushes the box towards you, “You both tip enough to cover the box anyway, please just take it. Hope you feel better soon, hon.”

Her kind gesture thaws your heart out a little and you give her a small smile. “Thanks, Dolores.”

You walk back to your car, locking the doors once you get in. You don’t move to turn the car on, opting to allow your emotions to overflow again in solitude with the comfort of a bavarian kreme donut. The tears prick your eyes on instinct thinking of the current state of your life, of your relationship.

Spencer was right, have you convinced yourself you’re capable of moving past this? You do still love Spencer, you knew that much. But you are hurt, you are tired, and you just want to stop feeling like you’ll always come in second place even when there’s no one to occupy first place. You’ve waited so long to feel chosen, like someone has waited all their life for someone like you to come around. Meeting Spencer felt like finding the little daisies that grew in between the cracks of concrete, proof that despite your stone hard exterior you were still worthy of being loved.

The sound of your phone ringing jolts you up, almost dropping your donut. With your free hand you look at the caller and press accept.

“Hi, Emily.” you try to make your voice sound even.

“Hey we’ve got a—wait are you okay?”

You clear your throat, “Yeah, totally fine don’t worry. What’s up?”

It’s clear she doesn’t believe you but Emily really doesn’t have time right now, “Listen, Lynch is still alive.”

You almost choke. “What?”

“The casualty report doesn’t include Lynch and they couldn’t find his body anywhere. While they were searching the house they found tunnels. He escaped.”

“Fuck, okay what do you need me to do?”

“There’s a gas station clerk who thinks he saw him and his car, I need you and Matt to go check it out and see what he knows.”

You scramble to put your donut down and wipe your hands on the napkin, “Yeah, of course I’m on my way.”

“Okay, Matt will meet you there,” she pauses, “I…Is Spencer with you?”

Your heart clenched again, “No, he’s not. He’s at the apartment.”

Emily hums, “He didn’t pick up when I called, it’s okay I’ll send JJ and Penelope to go get him. Reconvene at the bureau in a couple hours?”

“Sounds good.” you hang up and immediately start driving over to the gas station. Something doesn’t feel right, you can feel it in your gut. You quickly check Spencer’s location just to be safe, and relax when you see he’s still at home. He’s probably just taking a nap.

What Emily decides you can’t ever know about is the call she gets twenty minutes later from a hysterically crying Penelope, who in between sobs tells her that they’re on the way to George Washington Hospital. That when JJ and Penelope opened the door to Spencer’s apartment he was passed out on the floor, blood dripping from his nose. How when JJ went to start CPR he entered a seizure and coded in the ambulance.

No, you can’t know this, because Emily knows that the call alone that she has to give you is going to shatter your broken pieces even further.

—

You pull out your phone to call Emily and see an incoming call from her, “Hey, I was just about to call you. The guy said he drove a red ford pickup, we were able to get the license plate from the security cameras but it came up as a stolen plate—“ 

Emily says your name in a tone you’ve never heard her use. It makes you stop in your tracks, an icy chill shooting down your spine, “What?”

“Something’s happened.”

You step outside of the gas station shop holding your breath, “What do you mean?”

Emily pinches the bridge of her nose, “It’s about Spencer, he’s…”

She pauses for too long. The panic rises fast. “Emily.”

“They found him passed out on the floor of his apartment. Penelope called 911 and they’re on the way to the hospital right now.”

No. 

No, no, no.

The color drains from your face as fast as your heart plunges to the ground. “Wh—what?”

She’s lying, she has to be right? You just saw Spencer literally a few hours ago and he was fine. No signs of distress or anything, she has to be lying. She has to be lying.

“The EMT thinks he has a brain bleed, it um…caused him to have a seizure when JJ and Penelope found him.”

The nausea rises before you can anticipate it, scanning your surroundings for a trash can and immediately hurling up the contents of your stomach. Wiping your mouth with your sleeve you put the phone back to your ear, “Which hospital?”

“George Washington Memorial, they should already be there by now.”

“Okay, I’m on the way.” you sniffle.

Emily doesn’t know what other encouraging words she can provide you, she doesn’t think any words exist to comfort herself even let alone you. “Keep me updated please.”

The call ends and you have to steady yourself on the nearby wall, head reeling with mountainous emotions and unable to make sense of any of them. 

You look around through blurred eyes for Matt calling out to him, “Matt, Matt give me the keys I need to go to the hospital.” you hold a shaky hand out.

He looks at you confused and concerned, “What? Are you okay, why do you need to go—“

“Sp—“ you stutter, unable to even speak the words into existence, “Spencer’s in the hospital.”

Matt’s face pales, “I’ll drive you, come on.”

—

“They said it’s a brain bleed.” you mumble after a few minutes of silence in the car.

“A brain bleed? How could that have…” he trails off in realization.

“What?” you ask nervously.

He grips the steering wheel harder, “The bomb, at the Lynch house.”

Fuck. The EMTs who checked him out that day said he only had a mild concussion, nothing else to be concerned about. A few cuts and scratches but nothing that wouldn’t heal. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen to him.

You sniffle and hastily wipe at your face again, your skin growing red with irritation with every contact.

Matt looks at you with a look he wouldn’t call pity, but certainly close, “It’s going to be okay, he’ll pull through. He always does.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as if it could prevent the fresh wave of tears from falling, “You don’t know that.”

He sighs deeply and turns into the hospital parking lot, stopping in front of the entrance, “Go in, I’ll park the car.”

You open the car door and rush inside the lobby, finding the receptionist immediately. She looks up at you and her face softens in empathy, “Who are you here for?”

“Um, Spencer Reid. He should have just gotten in.” you strain.

The receptionist clacks a few buttons on her keyboard before speaking again, “It looks like he’s in the ICU, are you blood related?”

“Are we…what?” you ask confused.

“Well honey, because he’s in the ICU we can only let in blood related family or spouses to stay with them.”

You outwardly deflate, “Oh…I—“

“She’s his fiancée!”

You look to the source of the new voice and are met with Penelope, donning matching red rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks. Her eyes look at you in silent communication and you turn back to the desk, “Y—Yeah, I’m his fiancée.”

If the receptionist isn’t convinced she doesn’t show it, willing to turn a blind eye in pure understanding of the situation. “Room 204.”

“Thank you.” You duck down the hall scanning the numbers before coming up on 204, the door cracked open slightly. Your hand hovers over the handle in hesitation, scared of what you’ll find on the other side. Penelope comes up behind you and rests her hand on yours and helps you open the door.

The sight hits you like a truck. All the wires hooked up to his limbs pumping IV fluids and the heart monitor beeping steadily. He’s paler than you’ve ever seen him. His skin is clammy, the hair sticking to his forehead. You can see that from across the room and all you can think about is how uncomfortable he must feel from the sweat coating him. You used to tease him once upon a time when he’d sometimes take multiple showers a day because of how much it bothered him.

“Another shower? Spence, our water bill is about to be crazy.”

He laughs and waves you off, “Don’t worry about that, I can charge the water bill as bureau compensation.”

“Okay, one that sounds illegal. Two, the more time you spend in the shower, the less time you spend with me.” you moan with fake petulance.

You yelp as he suddenly sneaks up behind you, caging you to his chest with his arms, “So join me.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of getting clean?” you giggle, leaning your head back into the crevice of his neck.

He presses a soft kiss to your temple, “You do know what showers are for, right?”

You nod, “To get clean! It would get even dirtier before it got cleaner.”

“I think that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

The smile on your face grows the widest it can before you break off into a sprint down the hallway towards the bathroom, Spencer trailing behind with your laughs mixing in the light air.

You don’t know why you’re thinking so deeply about the state of his perspiration, maybe a convoluted defense mechanism your brain conjured up so you don’t have to come to terms with Spencer lying near comatose a few feet away.

Your feet hesitantly carry you closer to the bed, feeling somewhat calmed by the slow rise and fall of his chest. You lean down and look him over, as if you could see the damaged inflicted on him even though it’s nestled deep in his brain. Spencer always said his brain would lead to his demise, and you hope all those times you played it off as a joke that it cemented itself as one, a joke. That you would be able to see his hazel eyes open again and they’d fill you with reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere, that all he needed in this world was you, and that he loved you.

You will and wish and hope to have his eyes open. You try not to think about if you’ll ever get to see them again.

A choked sob escapes your throat before you can help it, your hand coming over your mouth to muffle the impact. Spencer is hurt. Spencer is fighting for his life, and you were fighting him not even a few hours ago.

“Oh, honey,” Penelope reaches for your shoulders and pulls you into a hug, “He’s gonna be okay, the doctors said the surgery went well. Just waiting for him to wake up now.”

You cry even harder and Penelope tightens her grip on you, determined to not let you fall further down the slope.

“W—We got into a fight,” you sniffle, “before I left. It was bad, Penny. He was so mad, and then I was so mad. And then I just left.”

“You didn’t know this would happen, honey. None of us did.”

“I didn’t even say I love you. Th—The last conversation we had was a fucking fight a—and now…” you cry, “He can’t die, Pen. He can’t die I didn’t even get to tell him—“

Penelope grabs your face with both of her hands, “Hey. No, we’re not doing that. We are not spiraling, not when there’s no reason to. Okay?”

Whatever response you had falls dead on your lips when you take another look at Spencer’s motionless body on the bed. The calmness on his face is a stark difference from the Spencer you saw only a few hours ago.

She was right, there’s nothing you can do right now but wait. You’d just have to trust that Spencer would pull through.

You almost chuckle dryly through the tears. Trust and Spencer? The irony of it all laughs in your face.

—

Spencer’s eyes blink open and adjust to the bright light blinding him. He takes in his surroundings and realizes he’s standing in the middle of the bullpen. That’s weird, he thinks, I thought I was in the study.

“Reid, you sure you don’t want to join me and Elle in Jamaica?” Derek sings, “My guy can swing you a great deal.”

Derek? Elle?

He snaps his head in the direction of the voice, seeing Derek not even looking in his direction but still looking towards Spencer. Just, a different and much younger Spencer.

“Have a great two weeks off everyone, you all deserve it. Don’t call me at my cabin.” Gideon rushes out as he beelines to the door right past Spencer. “Seriously, don’t call me.”

Gideon? But Gideon…died. Where is he?

The scene changes with a snap and suddenly he’s back in his apartment, his old apartment. The one he lived in before he moved in with you. He is definitely in a dream, though with the vividity and theme of important people in his past he’s not entirely sure he’s only sleeping. A head of blonde hair on his couch catches his eye. He slowly walks around and his breath hitches at who he sees.

“Maeve?”

She smiles softly, “Hi Spencer.”

He slowly walks around the couch and kneels in front of her. The tears prick his eyes before he can help it, “I didn’t think I’d get to see you again. I—I’m so sorry for—“

Maeve holds a hand up, “What happened to me wasn’t your fault, I promise. You did what you could. But that’s not why I’m here.”

“It’s not?”

She shakes her head. “You’re dying, Spence.”

His face falls, “I am?”

“Collateral from the explosion, you have a brain bleed.”

It takes a few minutes for him to comprehend what she said, and he can feel his head spinning fast in his head. He can’t actually be dying right? The explosion happened days ago and yet now is when his brain decides to tap out, that can’t be right.

It simply cannot be right because that’s when he remembers you and the last conversation he had with you, and he has to clutch his heart at the prospect of his fate.

He won’t know if you’ll ever forgive him, if you’ll ever learn to trust him again, if you even still love him. He won’t know anything if he dies. He cannot die.

“M—Maeve, I can’t be here I—“

She places her hand atop of his own and he feels her. He can feel her hand on his, like she’s real and here.  It’s alarming, and warm. “I know, it’s okay. C’mon, let’s go for a walk.”

Maeve gestures for him to follow her and before his eyes the scene changes again to a nearby park, one that looks a little too familiar to him.

She starts walking through the park, “We’re all okay up here you know? I get to read a lot more now, there’s so much time to read and postulate. Sometimes I get lucky and I can meet the authors. I got to meet Kant and Dostoevsky a while ago, very interesting people. Gideon plays with this nice little octopus friend. I know he’s having the best time.” she laughs, “But you, Spencer Reid, are not okay down there.”

He looks up at her and swallows, “I know.”

She turns onto the fork in the trail, “What’s holding you back?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs.

“I think you do know.”

A few silent minutes pass. “I…I’m scared to let myself be happy again,” he admits.

Maeve looks at him with a saddened smile, “And why’s that?”

Because everything he loves leaves him. Because when he laughs just a little too hard, he’s already scanning the surroundings waiting for the other shoe to fall. Because when Spencer feels he’s trekked up the mountain with long and winding breaths, something always seems to be waiting at the top ready to knock him down.

“Don’t think I deserve it, to be honest.” he admits, “I keep…messing up everytime.”

Maeve stops walking, “You love so deeply, Spencer. It’s a blessing and a curse.”

“Emphasis on the curse.” he deprecates.

“It’s only a curse because you don’t let yourself feel wholly. I know given everything that’s happened it’s hard but,” she pauses, “You’re not a clipped bird, Spence. You just…lost a few feathers. Nothing you can’t get back.”

It’s easier said than done when it feels like his mere existence causes you pain as of late.

“I feel like I have to hold parts of me back so I can protect her…from myself.”

Maeve turns to him, “She deserves all of you, Spence. It is a privilege to be loved by you, but it’s a greater privilege to be loved. And you deserve to feel loved.”

“What if I ruin it?” More accurately, what if he’s already ruined it, is what he means.

“You are not destined for sorrow and misery, despite what your life has made you think. She loves you. She would not have stayed this long if she didn’t. But there is one thing I think she could use from you.”

Spencer looks at her expectantly waiting for her to continue.

“She wants to feel chosen, Spencer. And I know you think you choose her everyday just by loving her. But the reality is, you can’t fully choose her without choosing yourself first. That means allowing yourself to be happy.”

A few stray tears streak down his face and he haphazardly wipes them away. For the entirety of Spencer’s life his purpose was to be of service to others. With his intelligence, his kindness, his courage. His needs always came second because the few times he thought to put himself first, disaster struck. 

When he met you this notion only reinforced itself, wanting to ensure he could make you as happy as he could. You became his priority and he didn’t mind that at all. It was easy being with you, you made life feel easy. So when Spencer started to let his guard down piece by piece, allowing himself the little bits of your happiness to seep into his being, he wasn’t thinking about the abyss that had always loomed over him his whole life.

He couldn’t, not when you managed to infiltrate his entire existence by wrapping and tethering yourself to him with strings of gold. How could he? You made things so easy.

But then prison happened. Then Cat, again. Then Maeve, again. Three strikes. It should have been game over by now. He broke your trust, betrayed your love and he wasn’t sure if you would even stay long enough to see the damage unfold. But you did, and he still can’t really figure out why.

So here he is in limbo? Purgatory? Some figment of his mind in the wake of near death that is giving him the opportunity to make amends. Not with Maeve or Gideon or you or any other grudge he has yet to settle in his life. No, he has the chance to make amends with himself and forgive himself for standing in the way of what he really deserves.

A faint beeping in the distance reels him back to the present moment, Maeve’s face coming into focus again. The dull ache in his eyes coming forward again with how many tears are falling.

“Love is our true destiny, we do not find the meaning of it alone, we find it with another.”

He smiles with a watery chuckle, “Thomas Merton.”

“Spencer, I promise you, you will be happy again. And forever. Just keep the door open when it comes knocking.”

The beeping starts to get louder, like it’s approaching him fast. A warm glow begins to build around him, then light. He looks around the park again and sees the trees and benches begin to blur. He looks at Maeve as she stands with a fond smile, her figure slowly fading as well.

“Take care, Spencer.” and with a blink Maeve is gone.

In the silence he is left in, he looks to the epitaph of Jason Gideon in front of him and back to the spot where Maeve was standing, whispering a soft, “You too.” before closing his eyes and succumbing to the beeping.

—

It’s been 4 hours since you’ve been sat next to his bed. You’d be a lot more concerned than you were, which is already a lot, if it wasn’t for his heartbeat monitor beeping steadily throughout the hours. A sign of life, as morbid as it sounds, but it’s hard to be rational given the circumstances.

It had taken all of 3.5 hours for you to braven up and hold his hand in comfort. Hour one you simply stared at his hand, as if it would regain mobility and reach out for you. Hour two you were able to place your hand on the bed, not anywhere near his obviously. But enough to feel close, satiated. By hour three you had your fingers mere millimeters from his own, feeling like a magnetic force of the same poles was repelling you.

The 3.5 hour mark is when the exhaustion of the day caught up to you, and finally allowed yourself to relax in his hand.

At hour 4.5 is when you felt the twitch.

You look up and whisper, “Spencer?”

He slowly opens his eyes, revealing his hazel brown irises with gold flecks on the insides that meet yours sitting right beside him. You can see the recognition begin to flood his face, but is stopped momentarily when he starts to panic realizing the breathing tube is still in his throat. You hit the call button besides his bed and watch the doctors rush in to help stabilize him back down.

It’s another two hours of testing and scans before the three of you are left alone again, with the nurse promising to check on him in a few hours.

You’re stiff next to him, unsure what to do now that he’s awake and perceiving you again. With a small voice you speak, “They said they found you in the study.”

Spencer racks his brain for memories of before his fall, only able to remember bits and pieces. He remembers fighting with you and when you left. He remembers walking to the study. And he remembers reading…”Lynch! Did you get him? He’s still alive, you have to call Emily—“

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” you shush. “We know he’s still alive, they’ve almost got him right now. It’s okay.”

That seems to make him visibly relax knowing the immediate stressor was almost resolved. Now there’s just the matter of the other elephant in the room.

“You’re here.”

Your eyes soften as your brows raise in shock, “Of course I’m here, Spence.”

He stares at you and takes in your features—your puffy cheeks and red eyes, the skin around your nails picked to death, your lip nearly split in half from the bites and bleeding. He needs to apologize again, he knows that. But the second he opens his mouth you cut him off.

“Penny, can you give us a minute please?”

She smiles and stands, “Sure hon, I’ll be right outside.”

Once she leaves you turn back to Spencer, “We don’t have to talk about all of that anymore, it’s okay. You’re hurt and that’s more important right now.”

He should have expected that you would do this, selflessly push your discomfort and feelings down because someone you cared about was hurting. It was one of the few things he didn’t like that you did, and he’s not going to let it go again.

“Angel, you can’t forgive me just because you thought I was going to die.” he says sadly.

You’re taken aback. “I—I know.”

He swallows, “I really want you to.”

Your eyes blur again, “I know.” Another pause. “I’m trying really hard.”

A gentle squeeze, “I know.”

“I…I still love you, Spence. I don’t think that will ever change, but I’m nervous if one day it won’t be enough…that I won’t be enough.” you trail off.

Again, he shouldn’t be surprised that’s what you’re thinking. He hasn’t done a very good job at convincing you yet. It still hurts knowing that you feel that way.

“Do you know what I thought about everyday when I was in Millburn?”

You shake your head as he continues, “I thought about how when you eat cupcakes you tear the bottom half and stick it on top to make a cupcake sandwich. When we’re watching Doctor Who and you’re singing along to the theme song with only syllables. How you let me eat the olives on your plate and I give you the pickles on mine.”

“Why would you be thinking about that?” you ask confused.

“Because I don’t think I would have survived if I didn’t.”

The lump forms in your throat, “But…you took me off the visiting list after the first time I came to see you.”

“I couldn’t let you keep seeing me like that, honey.” he strains, “The way they were looking at you, what they did to me. I had to protect you.”a

You swallow hard, a few tears falling down your face, “Th—That’s not fair, Spence. I understand why you did it, but then when all the other shit happened… I don’t know what I was supposed to believe. I couldn’t stop wondering if I ever was enough for you.”

Spencer can feel his heart splintering.

“You will always be enough, because it is always you. God, sweetheart it’s not even a question of how much, it just is. I see you in everything I do—you’re the tangled headphones we use to listen to music flying back on the jet. You’re the annotations I make when I read something that reminds me of you, or if I think you’d enjoy it. You’re the smell of bavarian kreme donuts from Dolores’ even though the chocolate sprinkle ones are far superior.”

His heart blooms hearing a soft giggle from you, an earnest smile forming on your face.

“You are entangled in the things that make me happy, and you make them too good to be true. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I meant it when I said I would spend all of time making it up to you. You are my Catalina comet, and I love you.”

You can’t help the sob that leaves you as you remember the memory.

“I’m cold Spence, are you sure we’ll be able to see it?”

He tugs you closer under his arm as he keeps trekking to find the perfect spot, a chaste kiss to your temple, “I promise it’ll be worth it. Come on, I think it's a good spot over there.”

You help Spencer set out the blanket on the ground and use the extra one to wrap around you both, huddling closer together as you wait for the celestial body to make its appearance.

“The first time they did the calculations they used old observational data that led to some incorrect results, and they thought the orbit was only four years.”

“They just got it wrong?”

“Not everyone gets it right on the first try, sweet girl.” he says softly, “But then they did the math again, made sure all the factors and numbers were correct. And you know what they found?”

You ponder for a moment, “Did they realize the orbit was longer?”

Spencer beams down at you, “My smart girl. That’s exactly what they found. So when they did the calculations again, they found out that the Catalina comet is even more special than anyone thought. It’s even more of a rare sighting to get to see it, once in a lifetime really.”

You hang onto his every word, captivated by the story, “Do people wish on comets?” you ask doe eyed.

His hand smooths your hair back, “They do, some say the rarer comets have extra special energy to aid their wishes.”

You look at him skeptically, “Do you really believe that?”

“Do you?”

You look back to the sky, “I think I do.”

Spencer doesn’t look away from you, “Then I do too.”

You giggle and lightly shove him, “Cheesy…” He smiles fondly and pulls you closer into his chest, his arms warming you up before you gasp, “Look!”

There across the night sky streaks the Catalina Comet in all her glory, Spencer watches the comet track through Ursa Major and before he can start telling you about why it goes that path, you’ve already clamped your eyes shut and squeezed his hand, silently gesturing for him to do the same.

He complies, obviously. You open your eyes again after making your wish, “Did you make yours?”

Spencer opens his eyes and admiringly looks at you, “Yeah, I did angel.” 

He didn’t need to make any wishes.

“Spence…” you whine through sobs.

His hand comes up shakily to wipe the tears from your cheeks, “Didn’t mean to make you cry, honey.”

“Well, what did you expect by bringing that story up?” you laugh with fake anger.

“To be fair, you were already crying.” he chuckles.

You scoff, “Mean.” You look at his eyes, and really look at him and see nothing but love and adoration staring back at you. You take a deep breath, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I believe you.” his eyes soften, you continue, “I love you.”

He brings your hand up to his lips and gently kisses it, “I love you so much. I’m sorry again, sweet girl.”

You lean up to him on the bed and press a soft kiss to his lips, and Spencer can feel his wounds start to hurt less and less. “You should get some rest, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You make yourself as comfy as you can whilst sat on the armchair, bent over to be able to rest your head next to Spencer. It feels okay for a bit, and then he tangles his hand in your hair gently moving back and forth and suddenly you’re satisfied with never moving ever again.

The quiet air between you both is enough to lull you to sleep, before a thought runs through your mind.

“You know something funny,” you mumble, “Pen told the receptionist I was your fiancée so they’d let me see you.”

And poor Spencer, in between his sleepy haze and the dull ache of pain from his injuries, only hears the word fiancée.

“You found the ring?” he sighs, “I thought I hid it well.”

You still under his hand.

“…There’s a ring?”

His eyes shoot open, realizing he misheard you and tries to play it off, “So…Penelope lied to staff. Tsk Tsk.”

“There’s a ring.” you say pointedly, the corners of your lips upturned to reach a smile.

Spencer thinks he can try and get out of this but decides it’s better to come clean, “Fine, okay. Of course there’s a ring.”

“Of course?”

The surprise on your face honestly stuns Spencer, and he feels a little saddened that you were in disbelief of the possibility.

“Yeah baby, of course.”

Your bottom lip wobbles with a creeping suspicion of his answer, “How long have you had it?”

“Got it after our six month.”

You shakily exhale. There is no ounce of doubt in your body that he loves you, and that you really are all he needs. “ ‘M sorry I ruined the surprise.”

He grins, “It’s okay, you won’t know when I’m going to do it. It’ll knock you off your feet, I promise.”

You definitely aren’t expecting it during a Planetarium date months later where he got the museum people to show the Catalina Comet passing over you both as he got down on one knee. You are expecting the endless stream of tears from the both of you, the aching cheeks from smiling too much, and the multiple missed attempts at sliding the ring on from how much you both were shaking.

[doomedmoth]

Three’s a crowd

Pairing : Poly and bisexual fem!reader | reader x alexandra saint mleux x charles lerclerc

Warnings : use of y/n, polyamory, fluff, very light angst, request, not much more tbh

Synopsis : Request : Could you write a poly fic about Charles, Alexandra and Y/N ? Everyone is celebrating Charles’ brand LEC but since Charles and Alex are the public couple (for Ferrari PR etc), Y/N can’t do anything. She’s starting to feel left out because of it since they’re going out and celebrating without her, they keep leaving her out and forgetting important dates (her birthday or smthg). Happy ending please !

Moth’s prophecy💡: Thank you to the anonymous cryptid for the request, I tweaked it a bit but still kept the main plot, and I hope you and the other poly enjoyers will like it ! Thanks again for the support and great ideas !

“Okay one… two… three… and posted !” You threw yourself in Charles’ arms as he clicked on the button and threw his phone away immediately, catching both you and Alex in a cuddle.

“You did it !” Alexandra pinched at his cheeks and you ruffled his hair, hands trembling with excitement.

Finally his ice-cream brand, Lec, was out, the main announcement posted on Instagram. The end of countless sleepless nights and never ending zoom calls, meetings at the worst time possible, and secrets to keep. Of course, now the promotion would be another handful, but at least the three of you would deal with it together. And you had always been pretty good at supporting your lovers.

You got into a more comfortable position on Charles’ lap, head resting against his, as Alexandra had gotten up and started her, as she called it, “happy dance”, which consisted mostly in jumping in circles screaming until she got dizzy. As you snorted, Alexandra very clearly loosing balance, Charles took your hand in his, softly rubbing it with his fingers.

“Thank you… I know it hasn’t been easy to deal with this on top of the races and everything… You’ve been amazing. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.” You could not help a smirk from coming up your lips, and thought this was the time to charge again.

“I know how you can repay me…” You straddled him, and as he did his best to appear confident and in charge, his blush betrayed his shyness. Alex had stopped spinning, seemingly much more interested in what was taking place on the couch. “Maybe you could…” You got closer to him, and peppered his neck with kisses until you got to his ear, in which you whispered as seductively as you could. “Maybe you could get me a dog ?”

He immediately rolled his eyes and playfully pushed you away as you laughed at his bright red cheeks. You had dreamt of having your own dog for so long, specifically a longhaired dachshund, and both Alex and Charles had said no multiple times. Charles’ arguments were mainly that he was away too often to properly care for it, and your girlfriend, who called the breed “hairy sausages”, argued she would have to deal with all the responsibilities of it because both yours and Charles’ works took a lot of time. And though she actually found dogs very cute, she did not have an interest big enough for them to manage her schedule around one.

You had pleaded to Lewis to use Roscoe to convince them, managed to go partly remote with your job, and flooded their messages with videos of dogs almost daily. At this point, you were seriously considering getting one in secret just to see how long it would take for them to realize, and then argue it is too late to give it back.

“Sure.” What ? You sat straight up on Charles as he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. You couldn’t have heard well. You turned to Alex, who shrugged.

“I can’t deal with seeing you cry over reels anymore, and Mimi’s pretty cute.” She gave you a warm smile. Mimi was your friend’s dog, the one who got you into dachshund in the first place.

“You’re not serious, are you ? You’re just in a good mood. You’re joking.” Charles actually laughed, and you thought your heart wouldn’t be able to handle a prank.

“Promis juré ma princesse. Why not, you want one, you can take care of it, who am I to deny you ? Let’s get you a dog.”

No matter how well isolated was your apartment, you thought you would be lucky if no neighbors came to complain tomorrow. There was a lot to celebrate for one night.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I really need you to give Leo back, we’re going to take pictures…” Searching desperately for support in Alex’s eyes, you felt sick when you saw her staring at the ground. You were so shaken you let the event coordinator take the puppy from your arms and give him to Alexandra, who sheepishly turned her back to you and walked towards the press wall.

Charles himself was nowhere and everywhere at once, it was no use trying to get him to advocate for you. Too stressed by the beginning of the racing season combined with the launching events for Lec, he had mindlessly agreed to most of his agent’s suggestions, including playing what the Ferrari PR team had called “happy family”. Following the announcement of Carlos’ replacement, they needed good news to balance, and thought emphasizing Charles’ couple and furry kid would pull at a few heartstrings. But in their good Italian traditional beliefs, there was no place for a third, and since you had always been more busy, and therefore more discreet, than Alexandra, the cut had been made. They were to be the hit couple for a while, in a vain but admittedly successful attempt at calming the fans.

You had had little to no say, Charles having always been your voice in those kinds of businesses, and Alexandra being media trained to perfection. You thought back on your promises, on your dedication to be supportive of them, and decided the best thing to do would be to go get some air. It wasn’t as if you would be missed anyway.

As you stepped on one of the secluded balconies, the cold breeze of the night came to slap your face, and without anyone’s arms or jacket to comfort you, you suddenly felt very lonely. The evening had dragged on enough, you just wanted to go home. Debating between taking a cab or waiting for your lovers, you took out your phone, only to be flooded by notifications from your socials. You barely used them, so had no idea why they would be so active all of a sudden.

Both Instagram and Twitter greeted you with the same pictures taken either by fans or paparazzis. You shopping with Carlos’s girlfriend, Leo trotting happily by your side, as well as another few at a restaurant with friends, where Leo was sleeping on your lap while Charles and Alex were somewhere in the background, probably discussing going dancing after. The usual. But this time, all the comments seemed to agree on one thing. The dog wasn’t yours.

“Did they lend her the dog for the day ?”. “Leo’s godmother.” “Is she gonna be the babysitter while they’re gone ?” “Me when my friends get a baby”.

You three had always been private, but not secret. People made their own opinions anyway, and you did not care much about polishing a public persona. You did not use socials, Alex had private accounts, and Charles’ were managed by his PR team. In the end, even though you had dated Alexandra since high school, and Charles for a bit more than a year, the lack of official pictures or announcement, coupled with Ferrari’s new strategy, only served as validation to those who affirmed the real couple were Alexandra and Charles.

You felt sick, cold, and particularly lonely. Cab it would be.

“Babe what are you doing outside like that, you’ll get a cold !” You felt his jacket fall on your shoulders before you even heard him walk up to you. Ears buzzing, eyes watering, you weren’t sure you were able to face him.

“I’m gonna go home. I’ll leave you with your girlfriend and your dog if you don’t mind.” When you turned to him, you saw right behind one of the girls in charge of the party holding Leo, and your blood started boiling again. Charles was looking at you all confused, and you felt an itch to slap him.

“What ? What are you on about ? How ‘bout you come back inside, I think Leo misses you.” He chuckled, and you thought a full punch would probably be better than a slap.

“I don’t think your dog misses me.” The words felt like poison in your mouth, but you wanted him to get it. To understand how ridiculous this situation was getting. And why wouldn’t the girl put him down, he was clearly uncomfortable in her arms ? Why was no one taking it seriously ?

“Leo’s your dog, Y/N, I don’t get it…”

“Then give him back to me !” You screamed and the puppy yapped back, before jumping from the assistant’s arms, who shrieked and struggled to get him back. Too late, he had found your arms before she managed to pull the leash. “You should probably talk with your team, Charles.” He frowned at the use of his name, which almost always meant you were pissed. “Goodnight.”

As they finished filling their suitcases, you thought back on this evening, and that you probably should have shut your mouth. Following Lec’s launching party, what you hoped would be a wake up call for your lovers turned into something even worse. Charles was indeed called in for a talk with the PR team. And then Alex too. Your turn never came, and the more the days passed, the more it appeared your relationship was being taken over by management and marketing teams.

The following weeks had been a blur of unspoken tensions and meaningless routines. Breakfast alone, walking Leo only in the areas pre-approved to avoid pictures, going to work without him and coming home to new communication materials published with his face on it, work calls for your boyfriend stretching into the night, and your girlfriend going out so often it seemed her side of the bed was getting colder with each passing day. They both seemed to have undergone a sad transformation, their fiery and protective spirits dampened by forced compromises. Something told you they had been pushed to agree to the new directive, and yet you couldn’t help but stay mad at them. You understood Charles. The pressure he was under, the expectations of the whole team, the weight of his responsibilities. But Alexandra, you had known for too long. She had never been one to bow down and blindly agree to unfair decisions. She had loved you, through good and bad. She had promised you, together forever. And now she kept her hands by her side on the street and you wondered when her clothes had stopped smelling like you.

They kissed you goodbye, promised you mountains of gifts and a magnificent restaurant when they returned, but the door had not even closed when you fell crying to your knees. You had moved to the couch and slept there, your puppy watching over you, when your mother knocked on the door the following morning.

“Happy birthday darling !” She opened her arms and you ran in them, grabbing at your siblings behind her to get them in the hug too.

You had hoped to be out of tears by now, having spent the night reading articles speculating on why you were living with Formula 1 hottest couple -were you a distant relative ? A friend of Alex in need of a place to crash ?-, but the warm embrace of family members you hadn’t seen for months was enough to bring you back to the edge.

“Where are my favorite in-laws ?” She was beaming as she settled her belongings on the kitchen counter. “Oh that’s my baby grandson, come here baby !” She took Leo in her arms and you thought you had more time to breathe, but your younger brother tugged at your sleeve.

“Can Charlie take me on the boat ? I learned how to do a backflip at school and he can film me do it from the boat and then the others are gonna be so jealous and” You put your hand on his head and ruffled his hair softly.

“I’m sorry… Charles isn’t there. Alex too.” Your mother furrowed her brows and gave you a puzzled look. “Race weekend, and they were expected at an event they couldn’t cancel.” Your voice, barely above a whisper, was already shaking. You felt your tears ready to spill over, and gritted your teeth. “Last minute decision.”

Your brother only groaned and ran to the balcony to look at the port, already over it, but your mother came to hold your hand, and you exchanged a look of “we’ll talk about it later”.

Unfortunately, by the time you all came back from your evening out, and the kids were in bed, your mother was faced with the situation without leaving you any time to explain.

“Y/N, dear, come here please…” You sat next to her with two glasses of wine, and looked over her shoulder to her phone, where she had some celebrities gossip website open. “Is that the event they couldn’t cancel for your birthday ?” Her tone was cold, and you took at better look at the pictures.

A sunset movie-worthy, one of those that always brought tears to your eyes. A small table with candles and flowers on the beach, cocktails so colorful you could almost taste them from afar. Holding hands, looking at each other like the world had stopped, your lovers were apparently having the time of their life in a romantic restaurant, on your birthday evening. You took out your own phone. No messages.

The panic attack struck you without warning. Your heart had clenched all at once, and despite your mother’s attempt at laying you on your back, your muscles kept you rolled in a ball. You felt as if every breath was tearing apart your lungs, and could feel your heartbeat from your ears to the tip of your fingers. You could vaguely hear her talking to you, but it was as if a wall was standing between you, yet her touch felt very close, too close, as if her usually soft fingers were now burning your arms. Was it the end ? Was it how your great love story ended, alone on a Saturday night, crying so much you were drooling on the couch ? Your body was aching like never before, were you about to pass out ? To simply die ?

In the end you only managed to fall asleep after your mom calmed you down. You thought before closing your eyes that even your pain was disappointing.

You were helping your siblings pack up their bags when they came home, arms filled with packages. The little ones jumped to them, glad to have at least been able to say hello before leaving, but your mother stayed by your side, not even greeting them. She thanked them coldly for the gifts, and pushing the children towards the door, gave you a sympathetic look. She said she would always be there for you. She said you could come home if needed. But when Leo jumped on the couch and laid next to you, you knew no matter how painful it was, your home was here and there. You just needed time. You would figure it out, together. But not tonight. Tonight you just wanted out.

“Happy belated birthday, princesse.” Charles said tentatively, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he gestured to the mountain of gifts piled on the table. Alex sat by your side, but you got up before she could hold your hand.

“I don’t want your gifts. I want an apology. Think well about what you’ve done.” You kissed your puppy’s head and left the apartment immediately.

Almost running in the hallways and stairs, you got to his door panting. You knew he was back, they always made the journey together. So when he opened the door, clearly exhausted and surprised to see you, you broke down once again.

“I’m sorry Max… can I come in ?” He immediately closed the door behind you and called for his girlfriend, while his step daughter Penelope came to hug your legs. You collapsed on their sofa, shoulders shaking with silent sobs, unable to find the words to explain the depth of your pain. Kelly and Penelope tried to soothe you with soft voices and hugs, but Max only managed to pace the room, his jaw clenched in anger.

“What the hell happened ?” He had always been so sweet to you, so welcoming in this unfamiliar world. You felt bad for seeking comfort in his home after he had just came back. But the gates were opened, and while you cried, you still managed to make out a few words, enough for the couple to piece out the situation.

Penelope stayed close to you, hugging you with all the warmth a child could muster, while Kelly had been forced to stand in front of the door to prevent your friend from committing murder. They were now arguing silently, and you felt your eyes get heavier by the minute, strangely lulled to sleep by their hushed whispers. You had finally put words on what was happening, and the little girl’s cuddles had managed to calm you down to the point of dozing off.

“I think you should take her home.” Kelly murmured, still worried.

Max nodded in agreement, and he carefully scooped you in his arms, cradling you against his chest as he carried you back to your apartment. Charles was standing in the doorway, Alex pacing behind him, and both let him pass, faces etched with concern.

“You two stay right there.” Max’s voice was sharp, commanding not to argue. He laid you down in your bed, tucking the covers around you and stroking your hair until sleep finally claimed you. When he tried to leave the apartment, your two lovers were still standing by the door, begging to be heard.

“Max, please, what’s going on…” Alexandra tried to get close but he immediately took a step back, and pointed his finger at her.

“You had your chance to make things right by staying this weekend. You blew it up. Take your responsibilities.” He then turned to Charles, and almost spat to his face. “And you… I thought family was supposed to always come first. Maybe I was wrong.” His face was distorted with anger, and his knuckles white on the door handle. “You two have to man up for once in your fucking life. Either you tell Ferrari, and everyone who’s putting their noise in your business, to fuck off, or you loose her.”

With that, he slammed the door, leaving Charles and Alexandra with the consequences of their actions. They knew they had been fooled. Manipulated. Two nights ago, when the pictures of them had been taken, they were having one of the worst conversation possible. One they wanted to share with you as soon as possible, and in person, and not on your birthday. They were now wondering how they could do so without sounding like liars.

Would you trust them ? Believe Charles, when he would tell you the PR team had said you weren’t cut for fame, that the spotlights were obviously making you stressed, that you would be happier away from it all ? Believe Alex, when she would admit that they had threatened her with your boyfriend’s career, as well as your own, reminding her that she had never needed to work, and that if she loved the both of you, she should let professionals handle the situation ? Believe them, when they would say that’s what they talked about at the restaurant, and that their look of love was captured when they thought of you home, and wished you were with them ?

They weren’t sure. The thought that you could decide to end it all, and you would be smart to do so, frightened them. When they finally went to bed, hands shaking and eyes wet, each one cuddling by your side, hoping this night would not be the last, you did not even wake up.

“Still not forgiven ?” Max pushed Charles’ shoulder softly, half teasing him, half genuinely concerned for his friend, even though he hated to admit it. He had moved away from the group of men having a drink in the shared garden of their building, and had been staring at the moon for too long for someone in a good mood.

“I don’t know… She keeps saying everything is fine, but it’s clearly not. Even when we told her of our meetings, she was like… she agreed with them ?” Charles turned to his friend, disbelief written all over his face. “Said they knew what they were talking about, that it was for the best. Keeps walking behind us in the street, encourages us to go out just us two, even refuses to hold Leo when there are fans ! Her own dog, Max !” Charles felt the arm of the taller man lay on his shoulder, and he rested his head in the embrace, sighing.

As he was about to turn for a full hug, he heard Carlos whistle from the table, and Daniel signed at them to get back and away from the hedges.

“Paps.” The Aussie simply said when they got back, pointing a finger at the light of a camera through the bushes. “What a waste of money living here if they still manage to get in.” Max groaned and started to pick up the bottles, inciting everyone to go back inside.

“What a pain those fuckers…” He grumbled, clearly annoyed to not be able to enjoy his evening out with friends without the sound of camera shutters ruining everything. “What fucking interest is there to our lives, go get one of your own or something for god’s sake…” Everyone agreed but still followed him to one of the shared inside spaces, frustration hanging heavy in the air.

As they settled around the pool table, anecdotes about obsessive fans and annoying paparazzis were shared, but Charles’ mind was drifting elsewhere. An idea had begun to take root, a small glimmer of hope for his relationship, to maybe get back his girlfriend, before sadness had taken over most of her. He chugged down the rest of his drink, and called for the attention of his friends.

“What if… what if we used the paps ? What if I said fuck you to Ferrari without dealing with the legal issues ?” A spark appeared in their eyes, and in their last sober decision, they called Alexandra to come down, all agreeing she would be their voice of reason.

Oblivious to it all, you were reading in bed when the gathering happened, and would never know of it.

Only a few days later was the plan put into action. Charles’ idea of using actual paparazzis was turned down by Alex, who reminded the boys of the consequences on their careers if anyone found out who made the call. Despite his drunken arguments of being ready to fuck it all for his girls, soundly supported by his friends, she had found a much safer solution.

When you stepped on the huge balcony, you felt tears come to your eyes, happy ones, for the first time in weeks. Your lovers had crafted a perfect romantic dinner for you, straight out of a movie. The table was laid out for three, candles lit up and rose petals everywhere on the ground. A bottle of expensive champagne was chilling in a bucket of ice, waiting to be popped podium-style, and Leo was waiting by the door with a little bow tie on his collar. You had missed being just the three of you, no waitress, no management, no friends, just a homemade dinner and loving looks.

So when they took you in their arms, wrapping you in love and affection, peppering your skin with kisses and sweet compliments, you simply gave in without a care for anything else. You hugged and kissed until you had no breath left, and let them treat you, for you had deserved it.

Yet the whole time, unbeknownst to you, Daniel and Max had been stationed right under your balcony, hidden from view as they snapped pictures of the intimate scene unfolding. They did their best to capture every shared glance and affectionate touch, every kiss and hug that would make it impossible to deny the love shared between you. They had all warned paparazzis were roaming in the area the night before, which would make the whole thing even more believable for the PR teams. The secret mission was going to perfection, and when you retreated indoors with a seductive wink to your partners, Charles and Alexandra gave a subtle thumbs up to the boys to signal the end of the work for tonight.

As you awoke to the gentle rays of sunlight through the curtains you had not closed well last night, a sense of peace came over you for the first time in a while. Yesterday’s romantic dinner, and night, was still fresh in your mind and body, and you smiled when greeted with your lovers’ sleeping faces when you turned in the bed. Reaching as quietly as possible for your phone, your soft morning suddenly turned to hell as you saw hundreds of notifications and missed calls appear on the lock screen.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you scrolled them all. Missed calls from Ferrari. Messages from long lost friends. And obviously, dozens and dozens of pictures plastered across every gossip account related to Formula 1. It seemed an anonymous account had taken and posted pictures of your very private dinner during the night, and then disappeared, right after the pictures had been reposted everywhere.

With trembling hands, you turned to look at Charles and Alexandra, still sleeping peacefully by your side. Instead of finding solace in their presence, a wave of dread washed over you, the fear of losing everything you held dear threatening to consume you whole. Would this be the breaking point for them ? Would Ferrari ask you to move out ? Would they all lie, deny completely your existence ?

The sound of Leo’s plaintive cries echoed through the room, snapping your partners from their slumber. They came even closer to you, filled with concern as your breathing got more and more erratic, tears streaming down your face. They took turns kissing away your tears and whispering words of comfort until you managed to give them your phone, as well as theirs. You tried regulating your breathing as they scrolled, and sat down, expecting a tough conversation straight after.

Alex simply threw her phone away after not even two minutes of screen time, coming back to lay her head on your chest and faking purring. Charles sighed, and opened the camera of his phone. Had they asked him to make an apology video ? He turned the camera to Leo, and added his hand to where Alex’s fingers were already intertwined with yours. Snapping a pic of the small dog with your three hands next to him, he immediately posted it on his story on Instagram, which he had apparently gotten back the login details for, with the caption “Family 4️⃣❤️”.

“About time it was out officially, right love ?” Charles stroked your cheek lovingly while your girlfriend hummed in agreement, nuzzling closer to you. “I was thinking your red dress for the event next week, and we could get me a new suit but” He kept rambling on, his phone buzzing non stop on his side table, head in the crook of your neck. Too stunned to speak, you simply laid back in the bed and let him talk your ear off. It wasn’t over then ?

By the time of the next Lec event, you were sure it was far from over. Alex was holding your hand, and you had gotten matching nails the day before. Charles had insisted you were the only one to wear red tonight, and he kept you as close as physically possible, one hand always on your waist. The little pup struggled to find his place in all this affection, but you made sure to keep him in your arms whenever he needed comfort, and otherwise refused to give the leash to anyone else. When Charles’ agent came to warn you there would be trouble, Alex stepped in front of you with the look of defiance you had always loved, and simply told him “With all due respect, fuck off.” Charles shrugged, saying this wasn’t a Ferrari event anyway, and smiled as he took you two away.

You finally stood tall and proud, at peace and at home. The party was quite private, you were mostly surrounded by friends and well-wishers, and one in particular came to greet you with the biggest smile on his face.

“As pretty as ever querida !” Carlos took you in his arms, and gave a small pet to Leo’s head. He congratulated you, and gesturing to the PR team seemingly having a breakdown in the corner of a room, he chuckled. “The only thing I won’t miss at Ferrari is their shitty strategy.” He winked at you before going back to the buffet, not without a last word “It’s clear the only happy family they should advertise is you three, with how they’re looking at you.”

You turned back to meet their eyes. Charles raised his glass to you, and Alex’s smile was brighter than the neon lights. You felt filled with pride, love, a sense of validation like no other. You thought of your mother, of her warm embrace and comforting words. You hoped she would see the pictures of tonight. You hoped she knew you had a home away from home in them. And so you ran to them, and laughed until your cheeks hurt, and danced until the lights went out, and promised to love until the very last star in the sky burnt out.