#is also a scrapped chapter idea so

[softquietsteadylove]

Ok SINCE we were given permission I have a lil request - teacher/parent AU but this time when Druig is sick Gil hangs out and helps Thena take care of him 🥺 idk if u have plans for this in the future so if u do feel free to ignore this lol but if u dont I’d LOOOVE to see it!! It’s fave au for sure, momma Thena just tugs at my heartstrings

Thena sighed, sitting herself down on the staircase, just for a breath of air. This cold wasn't quite as bad as the last one, but that didn't mean it was easy. She wouldn't expect it to be, with her son--her sweet boy who became a menace with so much as a stuffy nose. At least the last dose of children's tylenol she got in him seemed to be taking effect. Perhaps if she got his fever down, she could sneak in a nap for herself.

"Mum, someone's at the door!"

Thena stood with a sigh, "Darling, don't shout. it will hurt your throat."

"Rough day?"

"Gil?" Thena blinked, although she instinctively stood back to let him in, which he took her up on instantly. She shut the door behind him, subconsciously running a hand over her hair. "What are you doing here?"

He was already taking his coat off, "well, Druig never misses school. I texted Ajak, and she said you had asked her about ear infections."

Thena nodded with another sigh, tugging her cardigan around herself, "it's not that, thankfully. But Druig just has a certain fussiness about him when he's ill."

"So," Gil stood proudly with his hands on his hips, "how can I help?"

"Oh," Thena let out a faint laugh, shaking her head at him already, "no, Gil. It's sweet, but believe me, you want no part of this."

"I don't know about that," he said softly as he stepped in closer to her, "I'm here, aren't I?"

Yes, he was very...here. He was standing close, looking cute, and handsome, and he smelled nice while Thena was sure she smelled like sweat and cough syrup getting spat up onto her.

"Gil, I-"

"Mum, can I have soup!"

Gil grinned at the look on Thena's face, which told him all he needed to know about how her day had gone. "How does a kid get even louder when he's not feeling well?"

"It's a talent," Thena murmured.

"What kind does he like?"

"There's a pile of the cans on the counter next to the stove," she pointed in the direction of the kitchen with a thankful smile on her face. She headed into the living room.

Druig sniffed back a continuously runny nose, playing with the plush triceratops in his lap. "Mum?"

"Mister Gil's here, Darling," she whispered, running a hand over his hair as she encouraged him to lie down. She smoothed the covers over him, "he heard you were sick and came over to check on us--y-you! Came to check on you."

Druig didn't catch Thena's bizarre correction of herself, or her nervous smile. He sniffled again, "is he gonna make some soup?"

"Yes, Love, he is," Thena promised, adjusting his blankets ont he sofa for him.

Druig drew his shoulders up in his fluffy robe and shrank his neck back, "m'cold."

Thena leaned forward, kissing his forehead. Indeed, his fever was down, but instead a cold sweat had replaced it. She sighed, "I'm sorry, baby."

Druig extended his arms, at which Thena wasted no time in pulling him up into her embrace. She sat herself where he had been lying, bundled up in pjs and his fluffy robe. She pulled the blankets up around herself, rubbing Druig's back.

"You know," she whispered to him, "there was a time when you were sick as just a little baby. I held you all night like this until morning because I was scared you'd get even sicker if I went to sleep."

Druig resettled himself against her shoulder, "did I?"

"Nope," she smiled, holding the back of his head and burying her nose in his mop of dark hair. "You didn't. And I still held you until you were all better."

Druig smiled at the happy ending to her little story. "Was Dad there?"

No, he most certainly was not. If he had been, then he was asleep in their bed, complaining about how much babies cried when they were sick. "I don't remember, Darling."

"Hm," Druig sighed against the softness of her sweater. "I don't 'member Dad ever bein' there when I was sick."

Thena just continued rubbing his back in gentle circles. Druig had so few memories of his father, which she couldn't decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Druig pressed his face into his mother's shoulder, "s'always you there."

"That's right, Darling," Thena smiled as she pressed the cold tip of her nose into his cheek, making him giggle and squirm. "It will always be me, right here."

"Dinner is served!"

Druig went to the immense trouble of lifting his head, blinking slowly at Gil and the tray he had in his hands. "Misser Gil?"

"Hey buddy," Gil greeted in a soft voice, sitting down next to Thena and setting the tray down on his lap, "I heard you weren't feeling very good. Makkari sure did miss you in class today."

Druig plunked his head onto Thena's shoulder again, tired just from looking up, "I missed her too."

Thena grinned; she would have to text Ajak. They were keeping tally of all the adorable things their kids said about each other. Even if they didn't end up falling in love when they were older, it would still embarrass them to bits as teenagers.

"Well, I made some of that soup you like," Gil held up the tiny mug with handles on each side of it. "With a little something in it."

"What's that?" Druig frowned at the chunks of beige in his otherwise perfect minestrone.

"Just try it," Gil chuckled, handing the cup over and letting Thena help Druig hold it. "It's the perfect temperature, so just tip it back and drink it."

The rather ravenous little boy did just that, relatively unafraid of the foreign substance in his meal. He blinked at it as Thena helped him hold it level again. "Huh."

"Tastes like normal, right?" Gil smiled at the kid, who nodded. He looked up at Thena. "I saw you had a little soft tofu in the fridge."

"Mum puts it in her smoothies for gotein."

"Protein, Darling," Thena mumbled, feeling oddly embarrassed for some reason.

"Not a bad idea," Gil chuckled. "When I was sick as a kid, I'd get soup with tofu and ginger and kimchi in it, because it's good for your tummy."

"What's kimchi?"

"It's probably a little spicy for you right now, but the rest is good for helping you feel better when you're sick," Gil promised. He picked up a bowl of it, holding out a spoon. "And you."

"Me?" Thena blinked, glancing at Gil between helping Druig take sips of soup, hoping to avoid it getting all over him. She smiled, "it's okay Gil, I'm-"

"Druig, did Mum have a gotein smoothie today?"

Druig shook his head with the cup still held up to his mouth, blocking his face entirely. Thena took it away before he could tip it back too far. Druig licked his lips, "I didn't hear the blender."

Gil gave Thena a look. "I bet you've been telling him all day that he has to eat something so he can get better."

Thena's jaw dropped a little at the - teasing - accusation of hypocrisy in her. She gave him a playful glare, "that is not the same thing. And I'll have you know I had half a cheese toastie earlier."

Gil shook his head, leaning closer with the soup, "half his unfinished sandwich does not count, Thena, and you know it."

Thena sighed, looking between the outstretched bowl and Gil's hopeful little grin. She resigned herself, closing her eyes and nodding.

Gil dragged the spoon through the bowl, catching some tofu and some diced veggies. He held it up over the bowl, "open wide."

Thena glared at him for the little display. She leaned forward to accept the bite, blushing a little (for some reason). She gulped it down, and she had to admit, Gil had managed to make the simple canned tomato broth shine. "There."

Gil nodded down to the tray, "Druig finished his."

Thena huffed at Gil, who was unfazed. She looked down at Druig, who was settling in against her shoulder again.

"I'm done," he declared as his fatigue started to take over him.

Thena sighed, rubbing his back to help him drop off to sleep properly. She looked at Gil again, whispering, "fine."

Gil pulled the bowl back from her reaching hand. "Ah!--you have your hands full."

Thena looked at Druig in her arms and then at the man next to her. She had been married once, and yet she could not think of anything more disgustingly personal - borderline intimate - than him feeding her soup while she held her sleeping child. "No."

"Come on, Thena," Gil argued, both of them still whispering, keeping in mind the boy dozing against her side. "You know very well you're gonna get his cold. Just eat something so you'll be a little stronger for it?"

She wilted. He had a point. She couldn't afford the time to let herself be sick. She could barely spare the time to stay home with Druig while he was being a little terror.

Gil inched the bowl forward again. "I'm not leaving unless this bowl is empty."

Thena sighed. She rubbed Druig's back, feeling his little breaths against her cheek. She rolled her eyes, making sure Gil could see her doing it.

He chuckled, fully accepting her scorn as he held out another bite for her. "I'll make you some real sundubu jjigae some time. I can even make a mild version for Druig."

Thena smiled, licking her lips after another soothing bite. The tofu really did slide down easy and make the soup seem wonderfully filling. "I bet he'd love it. The boy eats like I never feed him anything."

Gil snorted. He had seen Druig eat - devour - his lunch at school; he knew. "We can learn to make it together when he's feeling better. It'll be fun."

"That does sound lovely," Thena smiled, leaning her head against Druig's between bites.

Gil caught that telltale drooping of her eyelids. She wasn't very good at hiding when she was fading; he remembered that from Christmas. "Hey."

Thena looked at him at the call for her attention, but he set the bowl and tray on the floor in front of him, shuffling closer. Maybe it was the cozy atmosphere, or her reluctance to wake Druig. But she let him take up the spot directly next to her, their thighs pressing together as he wrapped an arm around her.

"You're doing great," Gil whispered, his breath rustling a stray hair or two on her head. "But you need to rest, too."

"I'm," Thena paused, unable to cover her yawn, "fine."

"Hm," Gil nodded, playing along as he had before. It was another thing she seemed to have passed on to Druig; they both could fall asleep nearly on the spot when they were tired.

"Sorry," Thena murmured, aware she was leaning on him but unable to do anything about it.

Gil pressed a light kiss to the top of her hair, "c'mere."

Gil leaned back into the opposite corner of the couch, propped up against a spare pillow for Druig. He stretched his legs out, encouraging Thena's to do the same, laid over top of his. With her stretched out, Druig naturally followed suit, snuggled into his mother's protective embrace.

It was an adorable little tower, they made.

Gil pulled the blankets up over the little family. He knew Thena would be horrified when she discovered that he had let them fall asleep on him. But his only goal was to get them both a little rest, and if he was the bed on which that happened, then so be it.

[louwhose]

I'm leaving it to you, the people that definitely follow me for the fics I actually share on here once in a blue moon, to decide.

(all of them are loz)

feel free to ask me about any of them if you'd like the help to determine your vote

[f-imaginings]

I have finally FINALLY got up to the dream scene at the start of the last mabelcorn in kmky and everything is flowing nicely finally, and the scenes and characterisation all are smooth and make sense and I am no longer going over the same establishing scenes like a pedant trying to make them perfect. SUCCESS!

Just have to knock out these next few bits then it's onto unicorn beatdowns, funny hats, pizza parties and loophole heists!

[moongothic]

It is interesting though 'cause, since we have no fucking True Clue what the hell Crocodile's actual real End Goal with Cross Guild is right now (does he want to get One Piece and fight the Strawhats+Shanks, does he want to get Pluton from Wano (and/)or does he want to destroy the World Government?? We don't know), that we just have a fuck ton of theories on what could happen, but no way to really tell what the actual direction this entire plot thread is going to be

And one I've seen a lot of people suggest was Cross Guild recruiting more of the former (/OG) Shichibukai into their ranks

And I just find that idea so fucking interesting

Because this is where one needs to remember that Oda based the OG Shichibukai on the Seven Heroes from Romancing SaGa 2. The Seven Heroes were a legendary group who once in the past saved the world from a great evil (before disappearing and turning into an evil for the game's protags to defeat). Just reading the descriptions you can see how each of the OG Shichibukai match up to one of the heroes respectively. And the inspo would be fine and dandy by itself, like just some fun trivia about what inspired Oda. But the Seven Heroes were specifically created and lead by Wagnas, with Noel as his right-hand. Wagnas happens to be the character Crocodile matches up with, and Mihawk just happens to match up with Noel. And here we have Crocodile starting a new organization with Mihawk by his side, with unknown true goals. And we do have that one World Government that needs to get overthrown so the world can be "saved". So like.

Suddenly, the idea that Cross Guild could recruit some of the other former Shichibukai (to maybe help take down the World Government?) doesn't sound too out-landish at all

Especially because Moria alone is already like an actual contender for someone who could maybe join Cross Guild. Like, assuming he's alive and made it out of Fullalead with Perona. 'Cause with Absalom dead and Hogback gone with the wind, Moria should have like nothing else left but himself and Perona. And while knowing Moria he's going to be Very Happy about reuniting with Perona, like... where's he gonna go? What's he gonna do if the two escaped Fullalead? But because Perona and Mihawk already know each other, Perona could very easily become a bridge to getting Moria with CG, especially if he's still wounded etc from the escape, Perona would want her boss' to survive and she'd trust Mihawk to help probably. And god knows, if Blackbeard tried or even succeeded at stealing Moria's Fruit, the man could have some legit good intel on Blackbeard (and how he steals powers) that he could then share with CG, something Crocodile could appreciate. Also, if Crocodile and Mihawk want to ensure the Marines are too scared to come after them, getting Moria in their ranks would help with that.

Then there's Kuma. And. Well. Assuming Kuma doesn't kick the bucket in the next few chapters. If Kuma is still somehow alive and his soul/memories can be put into a body (some people have been suggesting his memories could be implanted maybe into a Pacifista or that giant robot on Egghead or maybe even his Seraphim, or maybe just memories could be returned back into his original body), and if he'll still have the ability to near-instantly travel across the planet then I'm putting my money on him returning to the Revolutionaries to be honest. But if he loses that ability, I don't think he's going to be sticking with the Strawhats to be honest. That said, he'll still need somewhere to go (with Bonney?), and with the rest of the Revs on the other side of the Grand Line... Cross Guild could, potentially, be the nearest, safest place for him, if for no other reason than the other former Shichibukai might be his safest bet right now. Especially if Crocodile ever did have any involvement with the Revolutionaries. But indeed, this assumes Kuma isn't Turbo Perma-Dead Forever, which remains to be seen.

I know a lot of people love Doflamingo and would love to see him back. Personally I want him to stay in jail, where he deserves to be. <3 Also I don't think Crocodile would ever want Doflamingo working for him, let alone go out of his way to travel to Paradise to let him out (though if they did, they could also release Weevil while at it, since he's also stuck in Impel Down) (But honestly, unless someone else goes to break Weevil out and Doflamingo just escapes while he's at it, don't think he's getting out)

Quick honorable mention to Law, since he is also a Former Shichibukai. His crew got nuked by Blackbeard but I doubt he'd join Crocodile and Mihawk for any reason, especially if he's still in the race for One Piece (assuming Cross Guild isn't) (Like Buggy is but Buggy might skedaddle for all we know)

But with the Shichibukai, this just leaves us with Hancock.

Thing is, last we saw her she was still in Paradise, wanting to reunite with Luffy. It is entirely plausible she could (or may already have) set out for the New World if she feels like she has to leave Amazon Lily to protect her home-- which she might have to, considdering without her warlord status the Government has gone after her. But indeed, if Hancock is on the run and heading to the New World, surely she'd want to find Luffy. So why would she ever join Cross Guild? She doesn't like men (aside from Luffy), so surely she wouldn't trust that disaster crew with a clown for a mascot. But again. This is where "what the fuck is Crocodile's end goal" comes in again. Because if he wants to destroy the World Government and wreck the Nobles' out of orbit... Well. I don't think convincing Hancock to go back to the place where she was kept in slavery for years would be easy. But also. Perhaps, just perhaps, she could be persuaded into committing some delicious revenge under the right circumstances (whatever that might be).

IDK man, there's potential here, things could get so interesting with Cross Guild and whatever the fuck Crocodile is planning (vs how Buggy's mutiny rolls out)

It is kind of funny though, how like the best case scenario for Cross Guild Shichibukai Reunion would be like. Kuma and his daughter. Moria, Mihawk and their collective daughter. Crocodad and his sharp boyfriend. And Luffy's wannabe fiancée. (The clown is optional)

[e17omm]

The problem with Snippets being an amalgination of AU ideas is that I sometimes gets two conflicting ideas and I cant find a nice way to make them work together.

How do I have Welt (among others) on the Moon fighting HotE like he fought Sirin in 2E if I give the Reason Core to Bronya?

I could make it work, but it'd feel like I'm forcing it which I don't like doing. And this is the worst part of it all.

I guess I'll have to store this idea until I get to the pre-HotE fight chapter...

[thornsnfeathers]

pet peeve of mine for any qrow "theories" for v9/10 is that people think he'll just go "welp, i guess they are all dead. that sure is a bummer! let's go tell tai that his kids are dead and i have no idea what happened" like he wouldn't dive directly into the tundra to find if there's any trace of the kids in there

[leafiion]

new chapter is going to be very late. I try to update every month and I think I’m going to miss this october. I’ll try to get out an extra in NOVEMBER* to compensate.

[ukulele-mixtape]

Maple Scraps: The Siren's Call Chapter uhh i don't remember actually omg

context: the obligatory beach episode. the gang go to the beach and tune (oc) gets knocked upside her head w a volleyball.

oh yeah and some more exposition or something idk i wanted to write a beach episode in April whatever

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Right over there should be fine, Tune.”

Tune nodded, setting down wooden storage containers full of equipment atop the mountain stack of other large boxes of supplies. Amy was right behind her, setting down the last few boxes of the medical supplies next to Tune’s, wiping her sweaty forehead and resting her body against the stack. 

A whole month. It’d been a whole month since Tune had arrived. She was very short of the rings she’d need to get a train to New Mobotropolis from Emeraldville. No amount of busking out in the open could help her plight, especially not in this economy and especially because her choice of music didn’t really vibe well with the people of Emeraldville, or its surrounding cities. She had understood that the grungy rock music she was accustomed to playing wasn’t vibing well with the general public, mainly due to its…not so favorable about life attitude surrounding her lyrics.

To top it all off, she refused to ever entertain the idea of asking for funds from anyone, given how expensive the ticket was and especially because she didn’t want anything being tracked back to her on the day she left. What if I just went to another city? Tune would ponder. The closest I’d get is Station Square again, and from there it’d be Westopolis, and that’s an even more expensive drive, plus there’s like a million watch dogs from GUN. She considered actually taking the plunge to make enough money to book it out of the country, but remembered she didn’t have a passport, and it would cost a good sum just to get one. She wondered how she survived this long without any semblance of proper identification.

Tune was getting increasingly antsy. The voices she’d stolen swarmed around her vocal chords madly, like if they were begging to be released. And soon enough, as the weeks went by, she was seeing more and more wanted posters of her likeness, or what anyone was able to garner from the little they’d remember of her performances, littered across each wall of any town she’d occasionally get the chance to visit. They were all the same level of vague:

WANTED: VOICE STEALER  CODENAME: THE SIREN PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES UNIDENTIFIED MEDIUM RANGED VOCAL REGISTER USUALLY INVOLVED IN PERFORMANCES IN UNDERGROUND VENUES AUTHORITIES WARN TO PROTECT ANY AND ALL CAMERAS OR ELECTRONICS IN VICINITY ANY INFORMATION REGARDING APPEARANCE OR WHEREABOUTS SHOULD BE REPORTED TO AUTHORITIES IMMEDIATELY.

She didn’t know whether or not to be thankful that the police barely had anything on her, but Tune was still put off nonetheless, especially by her uncannily spot on nickname “The Siren”. She’d heard about folklore describing sirens, mythical creatures who lived in rocky islands and lured sailors to their deaths with their enchanting voices. And while she wasn’t outwardly killing anyone, she had no reason to, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she portrayed that title almost too well, and it ached in her heart immensely. She may not have been mythical, but she was a monster nonetheless. A thief to the freedoms of people she had no claim over.

Tune contemplated time and time again whether or not the whole ordeal was even worth it. That maybe, just maybe, she could spend the rest of her life here at the Restoration. The stability was keeping her sane, her mind and power in check. Alto’s frequency had completely escaped her, and hadn’t arisen for the whole time since she took Sonic’s voice. She was a bit more happier as days went on. She was eating more at Silver’s request (who soon got everyone else on board to ensure it), she was working harder for a cause that she couldn’t really understand, but kept her busy. It was all she needed for now. Just something quiet to keep her steady. But she knew deep down this was hollow. She couldn’t stay much longer, but couldn’t find a sustainable way to leave without drawing suspicion. 

And it didn’t help that, unbeknownst to her, Tune was getting quite attached to her newfound companions.

“Thanks for the help,” Amy sighed. “I know I must have caught you at a bad time. The supply depot just needed an extra pair of hands because someone called in sick for the day.”

“Nah, I’m not doing much these days.” Tune replied flatly, following suit and sliding her body down the neatly stacked wooden piles with a big stretch of her arms. “Besides, gotta make myself useful somehow. Put me to work whenever.”

Amy gave a slightly strained hum, quiet enough for Tune to not bat an eye at it, as she shuffled towards the raccoon girl’s side and tilted her head, allowing her quills to fall and hang off her face.

“We’ve been over this, Tune. This is a–” she began.

“Volunteer effort, I know.” Tune groaned out, her arm resting on her knee and hand going for a casual grab at her cheek. She didn’t look at Amy, only choosing to look forward as she watched the people around her, scattered across, still continuing their business checking off tasks with their clipboards and riding forklifts and pushing hand trucks. “You don’t have to keep reminding me. I’m doing the job y’all want me to do willingly, isn’t that good?”

Amy pouted her lips, placing the tips of her fingers on the surface of the stacks of boxes behind her. “But do you even want this?”

“Doesn’t matter what I want right now.” Tune said matter-of-factly. “What matters is that I can help so I can repay my debts I've already taken on.”

“I thought we told you we aren’t asking for anything.” Amy let out another sigh. “If you don’t want to help, it’s fine.”

“Rosy–” Amy shook her head in defiance, walking right up to Tune, taking her clawed hands and pulling her up to force her to stand. Tune stumbled a bit, but managed to find her footing.

“Tune, it’s not about just working all day, everyday.” Amy softly lectured. “We want you to do this because we want you to want it. It should make you feel fulfilled, like if you’re accomplishing something good.”

Amy’s brow creased. “If this makes you satisfied, if it makes you happy, we’re glad to have you here.” She pleaded. “But, if you’re not happy, if there’s something wrong...”

“There’s nothing wrong, Rosy. I promise I’m fine. Believe it or not I’m happy to be here, honest.” Tune would steal a hand away to place it atop Amy’s shoulder in an attempt at reassurance, squeezing it a bit, a small smile straining on her face that anyone could tell didn’t match her eyes. Amy still looked unconvinced, her pout still lingering, her eyes still scanning everything Tune had to offer.

“Then, if there’s nothing wrong, I want you to do something for me.” Amy said, holding on to Tune’s hand on her shoulder. 

“Yeah, Jewel Bug’s office needs re-organizing, I know.” Tune said openly.

Amy shook her head, a little giggle escaping her lips at Tune’s nickname for Jewel. “No, none of that today, silly. In fact, it’s actually about that thing I’ve been mentioning.”

Tune frowned, turning her head away to not catch Amy’s overwhelming gaze.

“You mean about the beach?” She muttered out, her bushy tail wrapping around her waist. Amy nodded, her tail wagging in response.

“Yeah!” she giddily exclaimed, her grip on Tune’s hand tightening ever so slightly. “I think it’d be a nice way for us to get some air and spend time with each other. Y’know, to get away from the stuffiness that can sometimes creep up from HQ.”

…It did sound quite enticing. She’d never admit it, but Tune was quite homesick. Having sand between her toes and the smell of seawater flooding her nose again as she gazed upon a vast ocean of beauty sounded wonderful after who knows how long she’d been away. But even still, Tune shook her head.

“...Pass.” she said instinctively.

“Whaaat?” Another pout from Amy, a whine sounding off from her mouth. “Oh come on, Tune. The beaches around here are absolutely beautiful. The one near Green Hill especially this time of year.”

“I just don’t think I’m ready for the whole ‘family gathering’ thing right now.” Tune shifted her weight on one leg, kicking the other behind her.

“We’re not inviting the whole Restoration here, sweetheart.” Amy joked playfully. “Just a little get together with some friends, maybe a nice barbecue. You get in the water, maybe build a sandcastle or even just chill out by the coast.”                                                                                                                      

“Rosy…” Tune whined.

“And,” Amy’s voice turned mischievous. “You can watch Sonic, Silver, Tangle and Whisper absolutely obliterate each other in volleyball.”

“Those two against Tangle and Whisper? I feel like their marriage would end on the spot with how competitive they are.”

“Hey, if any of them were married I’d be the first to know, for your information.”

Without realizing it, Tune snorted, a thin sheepish smile spreading across her face, only serving to encourage Amy, the pink hedgehog shaking her hips in anticipation. Before the girls could get another word out, suddenly, something from above fell down and landed just next to them. Red and white sneakers, a blue exterior and piercing green irises attached to a very, very cocky aura was all that was needed to announce the surprise guest on scene.

“Oh, Sonic!” Amy released her grip on Tune to clasp her hands together, warm energy radiating from her face. “We were just talking about you, if you’d believe.”

Sonic scratched under his nose confidently with a hand on his hips, his foot tapping away at nothing. His mouth opened as he quickly signed off on something with enthusiasm, but realized what he was doing and rolled his eyes, ready to pull out his phone.

“She wants to have a barbecue.” Tune didn’t realize what she had done before Sonic’s eyes widened in shock. Still unsure, she spoke. “...What?”

“Hey, you never told us you knew sign language, Tune.” Amy chirped in.

Tune’s entire body went beet red, her tail clenching and prickling up from the embarrassment. “I-I don’t!! I just…I-I picked up on a few things, that’s all!”

“He rarely ever signs at us, though?” Amy pressed on, despite the raccoon girl's protest.  “Did you…look into this recently or something?”

“Amy, are we doing this beach thing or not?!” Sonic snickered mutedly, rewarding himself with a glare in his direction by his victim. “C-cut it out! I didn’t learn for your sake, you jerk. I’ve been known. You ain’t special.”

Sonic crossed his arms and leaned in a bit while nodding her head in false agreement, mouthing a teasing “Oh I’m sure.”

“Sorry, I don’t speak ‘shithead’.” Tune retorted unamused, causing Sonic to blow a raspberry in her direction.

“Alright you two, that’s enough.” Amy called out, her hands raised at the both of them. “Sonic, are you interested?” The speedster nodded, kicking off and wrapping an arm around Tune’s neck casually, Tune jolting at his touch trying to get him off by flicking his face, Sonic’s face contorting into what ended up being a silent sneeze. Amy rolled her eyes.

“Then, it’s settled!” she cheered, clapping her hands together. “Let’s go to the beach!”

–

“I look to a starry sky, Knowing on the Other Side of Night The coming light is beaming bright as never before.”

Of course this would be Tangle’s choice in the playlist. The car ride over to the beach was quite energetic. It wasn’t a long drive by any means, about fifteen minutes at most. But in that time, jams would be blasted through the speakers of Amy’s sports car unapologetically loud, Tangle and Amy snapping their fingers and pumping their fists in the air to the beat of the mood thumping rhythm, Whisper politely tapping her palms against her knees, quietly humming along. Tune sat in the front passenger seat gazing out the window, unable to control the way her foot lightly tapped to the infectious energy pouring through, her head bopping rhythmically.

“Every fear I had has gone away, Promises of joy are here to stay,” Tangle belted out with her whole chest from her side of the rear seat next to Whisper. “Another day when we can do this over again, All over again!”

She gave an energetic fist pump in the air, cheering a loud “Wooh!” to the skies above and anyone else lucky enough to witness. Amy giggled as she drove off, turning the wheel slightly as the road curved, revealing more and more of the ocean beyond.

“This is so exciting!” Amy exclaimed. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to this area with you guys. We really need to do this more often.”

“Sure thing, Ames!” said Tangle gleefully. “We don’t get a lot of time together outside fighting off Eggman’s goons, it’s good that we’re hanging out again. Helps that we’ve got a new musically inclined member to the group this time around.” With that, Tangle used her tail to stretch out towards Tune’s head, ruffling her hair playfully. Tune made a surprised, sharp noise from her mouth, like she was coughing up something, her hands instinctively going to swipe away at Tangle’s wagging tail.

“Hey, knock it off!” Tune whined irritably, the girls giggling in response.

“Say, I have an idea: why don’t you pick out the next track, Tune?” Tangle suggested, pulling out her phone and using her tail once more to plop it safely onto her lap.

“That’s a great idea, Tangle!” said Amy. “Anything you want, let’s hear what you’ve got.”

“I’m cool with anything really, why don’t you do it, Top Gun?” Tune bashfully muttered, already hating the attention, turning her head and trying to hand the phone to the lone wolf quietly sitting in the back. Whisper shook her head and held up her hand in denial, beckoning her to continue.

“Come on, what’s the musical genius’ favorite jam?” Tangle excitedly bounced in place, poking at the edges of Tune’s seat.

“I’m just a hobbyist, not some prodigy. And I like everything I can listen to, even the crappy stuff.” Tune corrected nonchalantly. She could see Tangle’s exceedingly disappointed face through the rear-view mirror, an over exaggerated cartoon-like glisten in her eyes. Tune sighed in defeat, tapping away at the phone presented to her. “But I mean, I guess I can go by the vibe today. Let’s see here…” 

Tune scrolled until she found the song she was looking for, a high energy, funky, feel good anthem, presented with a picture of a model spaceship with a strikingly plain orange background. She tapped the play button, and the music began in earnest. 

“You say that bolder doesn't always mean better But sometimes you gotta think outside of the box You limit every little step that you're taking And always take a second glance at the clock”

The three smiled excitedly, the road trip getting just a bit more energetic. Amy was careful to eye the road, but given no other people trying to tail behind or around her, she gave into the groove a bit more than she would normally, rocking her shoulders to the beat and absolutely beaming, her foot going a bit stronger on the gas. Tangle rose her arms out with reckless abandon, yelping out quick cheers into the wind. Whisper rocked her head back and forth, reaching her hand out to tap it against the outer part of the car door lightly.

“Don't you wanna look a little bit further, To see what's there for you to find? There is more for you than what's on your mind!”

A woosh from the distance caught everybody by surprise, Sonic and Silver greeting the four from right next to each other, Silver flying with a large backpack strapped to his back, giving an excited wave of his hand, and Sonic giving a playful wink and a flick of his two fingers in salute as he ran across the road on…foot?!

“Dude, did you run all the way here?!” Tune exclaimed wide eyed, peeling off her sunglasses in a frenzy. Surely, he couldn’t be this fast. There was no way.

“This is pretty on brand of him, actually.” Amy said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Tune whipped her head back towards her, and then back at the hedgehog duo beside them.

“That can’t be normal…I mean, I knew he was fast but still.”

“Well, how else is he gonna get a race in?” Tangle challenged, eyeing Sonic directly mischievously, her hands gripping the window sheild’s base. “He knows Amy would wipe the floor with him if he was driving his silly little patty wagon, so he needs a handicap.”

“Tangle, don’t encourage him. I’m driving on a public road with a speed limit attached.” Amy warned.

“I don’t see anybody nearby, do you?” Tangle shrugged playfully.

Sonic’s competitive spirit kicked into overdrive, signaling a countdown towards Amy. He held up his hand, fingers counting down from five, Silver giving the audible cue.

“Sonic, no!” Amy scolded, though Tune could see the way her foot tapped on that gas pedal, her knee pumping up and down and both hands going for the steering wheel, gripping tight. Oh no…

“You maybe wanna not do this today, Needlemouse?” Tune’s voice cracked, eliciting a giggle from Whisper.

“Four, three,” Silver counted as Sonic’s fingers lowered.

“Y’all better quit it right now!” Tune was getting desperate, already tightening her seatbelt to the furthest it could go, hands gripping to her seat like her life depended on it.

“Two, one…”

“Step on it, Amy!” Tangle screamed out with a pointed finger forward.

“GO!” 

If the competition was to find out who could release the most blood curdling scream, Tune would win by a landslide, her voice comically echoing into the atmosphere. The adrenaline rush was nerve wracking as it was intoxicating, watching as Amy pressed hard on the gas and the girl's body keeling backwards from the sudden momentum. Sonic took off in a flash, Silver following right behind him, his legs barely visible from the overwhelming pace he was setting. Everyone could see the ocean just beyond the horizon, getting closer and closer with each passing second. 

“Amy, I swear to every deity in the sky if you don’t win this…!” Tune blurted out, hearing Tangle whooping from the back of her seat. “Seriously, what the hell is the end goal here?!”

Amy could only laugh with the confidence of a madwoman, allowing her car to skid across the road once they reached another curve. She would just barely graze past Sonic’s form, Silver slowing down a bit to take in as a makeshift referee. 

“First one to the beach’s parking lot wins, and I'll be watching!” Silver called out, causing Sonic to up the ante and move his legs so quick Tune could see them spiraling into what looked to be an infinity symbol from Amy’s side mirror. 

He took off quickly, the gust of wind so massive Amy’s sunhat almost went with it, Whisper just barely catching it from behind her seat, keeping it to herself as the car sped off right behind him. Eventually, the gang reached a small hill on the road, but as much as Tune was silently begging her not to with a pleading eye and a pathetic whimper, Amy took one look at Sonic, who turned his head to face Amy and pulled his lower eyelid down, tongue sticking out teasingly, and it was game over from there on. 

Amy hit the pedal even harder, the speed limit of the universe seemingly having been breached, the speedometer encased in the glass panel on the driver’s seat going so far down there was a chance it’d break off its hinges. The car reached the hill and reached into the air, everyone on board screaming joyfully, Tune for dear life. All the while, the music Tune had been instructed to play just moments earlier was still blasting from Amy’s speakers, the chorus conveniently kicking in.

“Everything you wish for is just another dream away, So just pluck up the courage! Can't you feel your heart it is beating underneath your skin, For you to begin?”

The car bounced back onto the ground hard, the girl’s bodies following the rhythm of its flow, Amy not letting up in the slightest, just barely managing to snake by Sonic and find herself not too far from the parking lot. She hit the breaks quickly and swerved, the car making a screeching noise as it skidded against the pavement. Sonic was right on top, skidding his shoes down the floor, sparks and gravel harshly breaking from the force. Tangle was cheering uncontrollably, Amy gasping for air with a sweaty brow, Whisper’s tail wagging with vigor…and Tune melting into putty in her seat.

“That was awesome!! Let’s do it again!” Tangle gestured to Silver wildly, ripping off her seatbelt and basically springing out from the car, Whisper choosing to take the normal way out and open the door. Amy followed suit, grabbing her hat back from Whisper’s careful hands when she and her met, and Tune just kind of stood in place in her seat with the belt still attached to her body, her eyes still trying to adjust to her new environment.

“Who won, who won?” Sonic signed off energetically at Silver, causing his partner to laugh heartily.

“I dunno, it came preeetty close, darling.” Silver teased, adjusting his bag and floating downward, his feet lightly tapping against the pavement.

“Oh, it was obviously Amy.” Tangle refuted with a tail wrapping around Amy and pulling her forward, causing Amy to giggle. “She wiped the floor with you in that powerhouse!”

“Girl, it better have been Rosy.” Tune exasperatedly called out, finally managing to exit her seat and wobbling to the group. “I almost lost my life today.”

Sonic signed off yet again, slower so Tune could read properly.

“We can always go again to make absolutely sure.” He teased with a wink in her direction.

“Yeah, y’all do that while I go and do the thing we actually came here for.” Tune clapped back, fixing up her frizzy hair. Everyone around her had a hearty group laugh, a small smile gracing Tune’s features as she hummed softly.

“Hey, yeah, there we go,” Silver beamed. “That’s the look we wanna see!”

A blush settled in, Tune adjusting her glasses with the tips of her two fingers, wrapping her tail around her waist.

“Yeah, well don’t get used to it, Floats.” she passively said, but her tone didn’t quite match the smile growing further, not bothering to give him the satisfaction of her getting to see his pleased expression. 

“Don’t tempt us, we might just have to try harder to keep it there.” Sonic signed off to her with another wink.

She huffed out a breath through her nose, gesturing with her head to Amy to open the trunk of her car. The group took a few items each from the trunk they had accumulated for the trip: a few beach chairs, umbrellas, some towels, a small backpack that Tune had snagged at a thrift shop with a portable speaker built inside (which itself contained some essentials like sunscreen, portable batteries and first aid equipment), a basket owned by Amy containing a carefully curated selection of snacks and other goodies for them to eat, a cooler filled with ice and beverages, another one for the barbecue ingredients, and of course, volleyball and sand castle equipment.

Tune took her backpack out, wrapping the bands around her shoulders before trying to go for a chair and one of the coolers, but Silver’s aura snaked its way to carefully take the cooler away from her hands. When she looked at him in confusion, he simply uttered “I’ll be taking that.” with a warm smile, before heading off to meet the others who were already making their way towards the sandy beach, the cooler floating close behind.

Tune watched as they walked as a group, staying just a bit further away, enamored by the community just beyond her. Tangle had her tail laced around Whisper’s shoulder, Amy giddily talking to Sonic as he and Silver held each other’s hands. All the while smiles were on each and every one of their faces, like if they were all just a big happy family. Another genuine smile, albeit unsure, formed across Tune’s face, this time a bit wider as she saw Sonic turn his head around, scooping up air in a gesture for her to hurry up.

This is okay. For now, I can try to enjoy this.

Tune kicked off phantom dirt from her sneakers, and trotted off to meet the rest of the gang, the familiar scent of seawater gracing her nostrils.

–

As Amy had promised, the beach right beside Green Hill was beautiful, almost wistfully so. It stretched a good long way, was surprisingly not crowded and most importantly, it was quiet. The water was a clear blue, reflecting the completely cloudless sky, and the sand while burning hot was still cleaned and free of any man made debris. A few beach chairs and umbrellas surrounded the area, while some people had blankets on the ground already soaking in the summer sun. The wind blew lightly against the group's skins, the salty water perfectly settling in on the comfortably warm atmosphere.

The gang each took a respective task once they found a comfortable space to lay their things. Towels were placed on the warm sand, beach chairs were unpacked and unfolded and umbrellas were neatly perched atop the chairs. The cooler was opened revealing an assortment of sodas, juices and water bottles for them to enjoy, courtesy of Amy and Whisper. Amy had set aside her basket full of snacks and sandwiches to enjoy, as well as things to cook for the barbecue they had sat around to use. Tangle and Sonic wasted no time searching for the nearest spot to set up a volleyball game, while Whisper and Silver finished gathering up the paper plates Amy kept in her basket. Tune set her bag down, fiddling with the speakers and grabbing at her phone kept snug in one of the side pockets.

“Y’all got any requests?” she’d ask the group setting up beside her, watching from a distance as Tangle and Sonic ran around the open sand setting up their makeshift court.

“You’re the musician here, surely you should have some sort of playlist for an occasion like this.” teased Silver, adding the final adjustments to one of the last beach umbrellas. Tune boredly stuck her tongue out in a playful response, pulling up a premade playlist titled “SUMMER VIBEZ” from a list of already crafted tracklists she’d made in her spare time.

“Guess I’m doing everythin’ here, huh?” She rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky I just so happen to do this for fun, but I don’t guarantee you’d like any of the stuff I listen to.”

“So as long as we can have fun, that’s all that really matters.” Amy brightly said.

Tune reciprocated the look the pink hedgehog gave in kind, pressing play on her screen and allowing the music to float into the air.

“The game has begun, gals and pals!” Tangle called out with a wave of her hand, using her tail to spring up into the air to gain more attention from her friends. Amy giggled watching as Whisper and Silver ran up to meet the others, Whisper’s tail wagging as she greeted Tangle with a hug and Sonic and Silver giving each other the most boyish of high fives Tune had ever seen, it was almost like they weren’t dating with how goofily friendly they’d behave in comparison to the girls. Amy followed suit, glancing up at Tune who had situated herself atop a beach chair underneath an umbrella. 

“You’re not tagging along?” Amy asked. Tune shook her head. 

“Naw, I’ll probably just watch from here.” She said, waving her hand up and down.  “It’s comfy. Got a nice view. Besides, I get tired easily. Those guys look like they’d go on forever if you let ‘em.”

Amy hummed, smiling once more at the racoon girl with a nod. “Well, if you ever wanna get in on this, you let us know.”

“Bet.”

Tune watched as Amy walked away to meet with her friends, her preppy sundress bouncing against her figure as she did, holding onto her sunhat and sandals clapping against her feet with each step. She saw as Amy stood in the middle, holding up her hands and shouted some things Tune couldn’t quite make out, as the game began and Tangle gave the first serve of the day. It was mesmerizing watching them play, Tangle and Whisper working together in complete sync as they tackled the ball. 

Even with Sonic’s inability to speak, Silver and him still were managing just fine, at some point Silver would hoist Sonic’s whole body up with his interlaced hands, allowing him to catch and spike the ball to the other side with a kick of his foot, Tangle easily thwacking it back with a swipe of her tail. Silver would catch it, bouncing it back to Whisper’s side, a bit too far for her, forcing her to have to body the floor to pass it to Tangle, who managed to get a good spike before Sonic was able to properly react and grab the point.

They went on like that for a good while, and Tune made a note that the way these people played felt as if they were training in the octagon for some big tournament, Amy enthusiastically reffing the whole way through. Tune grimaced, thanking her lucky stars that she made the right call to not be involved. She helped herself to a water in the nearby cooler, choosing the cheaper option from the selection and setting down a few rings in its place from her bag as payment. 

Tune sipped quietly as she just took in the vibes of her playlist, sitting a bit further into the beach chair. She’d eye back and forth between the ocean before her and the basket full of food Amy had left behind, deciding it’d be best for her to eat now before Silver got mad. She sifted through the basket for a bit before taking out what looked to be a strawberry cream filled cornet from a fancy bakery, placing a few more rings in its place and unwrapping it with care. She closed her eyes and with a small “Thanks for the food”, she went to take a bite…

And that’s when something hard landed square at her, smashing the cornet right into her face.

“Sonic!” Amy groaned out, rushing towards the raccoon who was still trying to find out why the world was spinning, the cream of her pastry plastered all over her face, bits of the breading already leaking into her chest fur. “This is why I always say don’t kick-spike!”

Sonic’s face was wide eyed, sheepishly scratching at the back of his neck as he followed the others alongside Amy.

“Gwuh…?” Tune’s dizzy voice rang out, watching as at least eight repeats of the same Rosy she knew grabbed napkins to wipe the cream off, spouting something she couldn’t quite comprehend. “Run that by me again, Rosy?”

“I asked if you were okay,” Amy worriedly said, glaring at Sonic with a thin lipped pout, who’d reached into the cooler in search of a bottle of water for Amy to use to clean Tune up a bit more. “These guys can be so reckless sometimes, I swear.”

“Sonic…?” Tune questioned, still not quite coherent. He came by to her side swiftly, inaudibly mouthed off something to Amy before she backed off and allowed Sonic to take the reins, carefully swiping off any of the pastry left on Tune’s lap, eyeing her face in concern. 

“Wow Sonic, are you trying to give her a concussion or something?” Tangle called out teasingly. 

“Yeah because it’s totally not like you didn’t use your tail a majority of that match.” Silver interjected. 

“I’m not the one who spiked the ball at the new girl’s face, though.” Tangle clapped back with a giggle. 

“It was a bit reckless on all our parts.” Whisper muttered out.

Tune, finally able to process the scene unfurling, gazed back at him, eyes traveling to the group worriedly staring down at her, and then back to her body still covered with crumbs and cream sticking to her swim top and a bit of her jean shorts. 

“Sorry about that, you good?” he mouthed to Tune, clearly embarrassed. It was a refreshing look in comparison to his usual shiteating demeanor, a face that she was completely unfamiliar with. Sonic was waiting with baited breath, like if he was expecting an angry, mouthful of a reaction. But what he got instead, what everyone witnessed alongside him, was something much more unexpected.

She snorted, her face contorted, her teeth were bared and then…

She laughed. 

She blurted out uncontrollably, hugging her stomach. She laughed hard for the first time in years, for the first time in front of anyone in so long. It was genuine, it was unfiltered. She had an ugly, goofy cackling laugh, tears were forming in her eyes from the pressure. She could barely keep herself together, having to hold on to Sonic’s shoulder unknowingly to keep steady, unable to stop herself from making a scene. She was so loud even the neighboring beach-goers around the group could hear. All the same, it was cathartic, it was exactly what the group had been working towards this whole time.

“I completely ate dirt, oh my gosh!” Tune was turning red, crumbs still falling on her face. She looked crazy, trying to wipe them off but falling into another laughing fit once they’d unceremoniously be scattered onto Sonic’s nearby shoes. She fell to her side on the chair as she cried out, “I guess this is payback for last time, ain’t it Needlemouse–pfft–hahaha!”

“I think she actually might have a concussion…” Whisper uttered for Tangle’s ears only, Tangle nodding in agreement nervously as Tune’s laughter became too much, eliciting giggles and chuckles from the rest of the gang. Tune’s cackling died out slowly, small giggles still bubbling from her in bursts, finally able to retain her composure. She caught Sonic’s now slightly flushed expression, patting his head in assurance, finally smiling toothily at him for the first time since they’d met, warm and inviting.

“Don’t worry, now we’re even.” She jested. “But you do owe me some food.”

Sonic’s composure relaxed with her words, nodding excitedly before getting up and snagging Amy’s basket, fiddling through it until he managed to find another one of the cornets. It wasn't strawberry, just a basic chocolate, but Tune took it nonetheless. She grabbed at her bag and pulled out her ring purse, grabbing a few more and placing it into the basket. Sonic stood there confused, Silver quick to call her out.

“Hey, Tune, are you trying to pay for it?” Silver groaned out, walking to the basket, Tune trying to quickly put the ring purse away knowing what was coming. Unfortunately for her, she was head to head with a man with psychic abilities and a speedster faster than sound, Silver going after her ring purse and Sonic grabbing the rings from the basket, plus the extra she left for the other cornet, giving them to Silver to put back in the purse despite the musicians’ protests.

“Oh please, it was just for this one cornet, it’s fine.” Tune refuted, her voice once again cracking, trying to reach for her purse.

“We did bring these for all of us to share, you know.” Amy scolded. “It’s not something we’re expecting you to pay for.”

“Guys? There’s some more in the drink cooler.” Tangle called out, reaching for a soda and pulling out the extra rings Tune had left.

“Tune!” Amy whined out with puffed out cheeks. Silver snagged the other rings with his power unamused, placing them gently into the purse before reaching for Tune’s bag and securing the purse inside.

“None of that today.” he simply stated, smiling. “Remember, you’re here to have fun!”

“But Floats–” Tune tried for it once more.

“Nope, today’s a day for you to be unapologetically selfish.”

“But I can’t just–” Before she could finish, Sonic was the first to act, stealing her cornet from her hands and taking a bite from the pointed tip, Tune’s eyes going wide, completely dumbfounded when he handed it back to her. He signed to her with a shrug, his shit eating grin back.

“Today’s a day for us to be selfish, so you snooze, you lose!”

“Don’t make me change my mind about that ‘getting even’ thing, blue.” Tune rolled her eyes and pulled apart the area where Sonic bit, handing over to him and reluctantly took a bite of the other side, talking with her mouth full as she watched as Sonic snickered mutedly. “Don’t you have a volleyball game to lose?”

“Eh, we could all use a break. Call it a draw for now.” Tangle’s voice rang, lifting the cooler with the barbecue ingredients inside. “Besides, I think it’s high time we got grilling right?”

–

After feasting off piles of snacks, barbecue chili dogs and tasty grilled veggie skewers, the match would continue, with Sonic and Silver just barely managing to scrape by with a two point lead at the very end. The rest of the day was spent building sandcastles and playing in the water after such a long, strenuous game. Tune sat by the coast, watching as Tangle, Whisper and Amy would splash salt water at each other, their giggles creating an intoxicatingly happy atmosphere.

Tune didn’t participate much and she made the deliberate choice to stay a bit farther away from the group, but she was outside, she was taking in the air. For her, for now, it was enough. Tune felt the water drift along her now bare feet, choosing to leave her sneakers by their spot on the beach. She was far enough that it wouldn’t soak her shorts, but close enough that she could feel the soothing, familiar way the waves would push and pull against the current. If she squinted hard enough, she could probably see her homeland from the horizon line, just out of reach. 

She watched as Amy would get her face dunked into the water by Tangle, Whisper in response pulling lightly at her tail and causing Tangle to dramatically (and purposefully) fall, the three giggling the whole time. Like they had no cares in the world. Tune felt herself being swept away in the moment, content, being fully immersed for the first time in a while. She’d be used to the feeling when it came to producing or engaging in music, but it always came at the expense of her associating it with her mission. Something that, despite the circumstances that lead her here, despite associating with one of her victims, she hadn’t really paid any mind to for a while, regardless of some hiccups here and there. But here with the Restoration, with them? It felt natural, real. It felt like she could really see herself staying with these people for a while.

And even despite their insistence that today could be a day where she could be a bit more selfish, Tune couldn’t help but feel the shame of her happiness, knowing her people wouldn’t be able to bask in that same feeling with her. 

“I can’t keep doing this…” she thought, hugging her knees as she continued to gaze out. “I told myself from the start I’d break every part of myself and everyone around me to free them. If I truly am the only one that made it out, all I’m doing is abandoning what I set out here to do by choosing to stay. Alto is getting stronger by the day, and I’m wasting time partying and helping these..strangers. I’m the only one who can protect these people from falling victim to Alto’s hold, but it’s like I’m giving up on saving them by wasting my time here…” Her clawed hands gripped at her knees tighter, the sand turning to wet mud and the water losing its purity in her eyes. It was no longer the breathtaking scenery from just moments prior, it was morphed into just their most basic components: a vast ocean of water, and the decomposed rocks that formed the sandy shores they stood on.

“...I’m failing them.” she unconsciously uttered, so low no one could possibly hear.

“Failing who?”

Tune’s eyes widened as she sharply rose and jerked her head to the side, Sonic and Silver hand in hand above her. They sat down on opposite sides of Tune, Sonic taking her left and Silver her right. She adjusted her glasses once more, trying to conceal her flushed cheeks as they inched closer to get themselves comfy. From the distance, she could see the girls who were once in the water going far beyond her peripheral vision, Tangle’s voice echoing something about an “ice cream stand near the boardwalk”.

“N-no one!” she tried to retort. “You don’t think it’s a little rude to eavesdrop on a person like that, Floats?”

Silver wasn’t buying her attempt to change the subject in the slightest, his neutral, unreadable expression being perfectly lit by the daylight, the sun ever so slowly descending down as the late afternoon began. Sonic was the first to initiate, placing a hand on Tune’s shoulder. She didn’t bother looking at any of them, choosing to stay glued to the water.

“You know, this is the second time we’ve caught you brooding like this.” Silver jested passively. “I just wish sometimes you’d tell us what’s on your mind.”

“I’m sorry…” Tune said instinctively. “I must be ruining the vibe right now. I can be better, I just need a minute.”

Sonic shook his head, tapping at her forearm in an attempt to get her to look as he signed for her.

“You’re not ruining anything, we just want to check in. Make sure you’re good.”

“I’m noticing how often y’all feel the need to do that.” She wanted it to be mean, but Tune couldn’t help the huff from her nose from coming out, endearment laced in her tone.

“It’s because we care about you. And we want to help whatever’s going on.” signed Sonic earnestly. “Can’t really do that if we don’t know what the problem is.” His words brought her back to the day she and Sonic met, not that he’d remember. The day he had her pinned down, the day she took his voice away, he’d said something similar. It only served to nag at her psyche ever since.

“But this isn’t fair to you guys. You aren’t some therapists that are getting paid to listen to my problems.” Another hand, Silver’s, was gently placed on to her other shoulder. The waves crashed softly against the current.

“Is it so hard to believe that we’re doing this because we just…want to?” Silver asked. “I really don’t mean any disrespect, but I just wonder why you feel the need to push people away so hard.” He hesitated with his last words, fiddling with his open palm tree shirt. “Do you…not like being here?”

Tune sunk further into herself, her heart aching at Silver’s words. The disappointment radiating from him was unbearable. “Of course not! I…I think the problem is I like it here too much.” She said openly, sighing. “You guys…I really like hanging out with you. But it doesn’t help either of us by getting attached.”

“What do you mean?” she finally gave in and looked at Silver’s pleading gaze. Without having to speak, he was basically begging her to spill anything she had to offer. It tore her from the inside. It ate into her stomach until there was nothing left.

“I just…” Tune hesitated, she felt the way her heart started to pound, trying to contemplate what she would say. What could she say? If she said anything of value, she’d be deemed their enemy on the spot. It made no sense for her to relay anything about herself. It was dumb, it was shallow, pointless, reckless…and yet she continued, as vaguely as she could. “I… have a history of being let down by people in the past. I hurt people, and I get hurt by others. It’s just part of my brand, I guess.”

“Is that what you’re afraid of? Hurting us?” Sonic signed curiously. 

“I just don’t want you guys to feel like I’m owed your time, that you need to try and make me feel better or something because of your Hero code or whatever. What happened to me in my past to make me this way shouldn’t concern you.”

“So you’d rather just…stay alone? When you obviously want to be here? What sense do you think that makes?”

“Sense enough that I don’t get hurt. And I don’t hurt you.” She said almost immediately, like she was sure the conversation would die there.

“But you are hurting.” Silver said with a somber confidence. “And it hurts us to know that you’re…not okay right now. When there’s a chance we can help.”

The pit grew once more in Tune’s stomach. “...You shouldn’t want to help me.”

“But we do. And we’re not going to stop caring just because you want us to.” Sonic nimbly signed. A moment passed, Tune soaking in his words. 

“Can I share something with you?” Silver titled his head to meet her gaze once more. She nodded wordlessly, prompting him to continue. “The future I come from was always a mess. Everyone was so angry and sad, devoid of any hope. It was hard for me to even get it together half of the time. But once I got here, I started noticing how beautiful the world truly was. And how I wanted nothing more than to protect it.”

“What are you getting at?” Tune pondered curiously. 

“I’m saying I have experience with this level of despair.” He continued, his grip on Tune’s shoulder tightening slightly as if to emphasize his point. “I won’t say I know the full extent of what you’re going through, but I do know what damage such a state of mind can land you in. Having people to guide you through it can help, but it’s only if you let yourself be open to the idea.”

“Can you let us in, Tune?” Sonic signed out to her gently with a warm expression. Tune could only look down, unsure of what to say, millions of emotions circling across her features.

Silver got in position to stand up suddenly, lifting his body upwards and then reaching down for Tune’s hand with a soft smile. He wiggled his fingers in anticipation. She stared him down, unsure of what to make of his gesture, lifting her hand slightly, but hesitant to take that next step. Reluctantly, she grazed her fingers against his own, and he excitedly hoisted her up, pulling her in for a hug. 

Tune froze against his sudden embrace with a tiny yelp, overloaded with sensation all at once. She wasn’t sure where she should put her hands, her arms glued down below as Silver placed his chin atop her shoulder, his arms lacing against her back. Tune would catch Sonic’s warm glow, using his arms to motion inwardly. Reluctantly, timidly and completely unprepared, Tune shakily wrapped her arms around Silver’s shoulders, her small stature making her look more like a consoled child. Her mind was going a million miles a minute as Silver tightened his grip on her, dragging soothing circles across her upper back.

“How long has it been since you’ve even gotten to do this with someone?” Silver gently asked, not expecting an answer. “The way you talk, the way you act…It’s like you’re depriving yourself of something so inherently common.”

“...It’s been a long time…” Tune could barely get the words out, her body slowly relaxing into his touch. “I don’t have many people in my life to do this with anymore.”

“Then we’ve got a lot of these to catch you up on.” She closed her eyes with a shuddering breath, pulling Silver in further and hid her face in his fur, like she was holding on for dear life.

“Sure…” was all she could mutter.

When they finally pulled away, there was a physical disappointment Tune felt, and despite the warm air, she felt cold, alone. She timidly peered back at Sonic watching the whole scene take place, his warm, genuine smile bounced off her unsure eyes. Without thinking, without breathing, without any sense at all, she would slowly walk up to Sonic, grasping at his arms a bit too roughly and pulling him in. He was taken a bit aback, but didn’t waste any time, wrapping his arms around Tune’s frame softly.

“I’m really sorry…” she mumbled humbly. “I can’t ever make up for the bad shit I’ve done in the past…but I want to try and be better so I can maybe move forward. I don’t know how to stop hurting. I don’t know how to start to heal. But I want to try.”

Pulling away for a moment to sign to her, Sonic smiled, his hands speaking for him. “You can start small. You can start by letting us in a little more. This is good for now, if that’s all you can muster.”

“And if that’s all I can do for a while?” Tune pleaded, for the first time wishing she could remember what his voice sounded like beyond what it was in her choir.

Sonic’s determined look spelled it all out.“Then that’s all you can do for a while. The hardest part is taking that first step.”

Tune hummed in response, pulling away fully from Sonic. She paused momentarily, then awkwardly extended her hands towards Sonic and Silver. The hedgehogs tenderly placed their hands atop hers, almost as if in vow to each other. 

“I can’t promise to spill my secrets right away. Frankly, I’m still of the mindset that y’all would hate me forever once I did. But I want to get better. It’ll be slow, but I’m willing to put in the work.” Tune rattled off, pausing for a moment before continuing, her flushed and pleading gaze extended to both of them. “...Can you guys be patient with me a little longer while I work my way towards that?” She didn’t even have to ask, Sonic and Silver nodded, pulling her in once more briefly.

“Thanks, guys…” Tune quietly uttered.

The waves crashed onwards, Tune could see the beauty in the way they morphed the sand, the slowly lowering sun now against the clear waters, glistening in its splendor. Tangle's voice echoed from behind, and when the trio pulled away, they could see the girls with multiple ice creams wrapped in plastic, Tangle taking it upon herself to be a menace and grabbing as many as her hands and tail could carry. When she inevitably dropped a few, Whisper was there to quickly grab them before they had a chance to reach the floor, Amy stealing a few from Tangle’s grasp exhaustively. Silver laughed at the sight, the girls finally meeting up with the trio and distributing colorful ice creams, multiple at a time.

“So, what’d we miss?” Amy’s knowing expression towards Tune said it all, their absence was planned.

“We could be asking you that same question,” Tune jested. “Flexy, did you buy the cart out of stock or something?”

“That is totally not relevant to anything ever.” Tangle said defensively with a pointed finger. “But enough talking, these things’ll melt if we don’t eat ‘em fast!”

“Oh I should get my ring purse to pay for my share–-” Tune began, ready to walk before abruptly stopping in her tracks. She paused for a moment, catching herself, and then took one of the three popsicles Tangle had given her, unwrapped the one with the goofy sponge character and gumball eyes, and bit down quickly with an audible hum of contentment, to the boy’s visible comfort, but much to the horror of Amy.

“You bite your ice cream?!” she exclaimed. 

“Is that not how you’re supposed to do it? Don’t you bite food?” She asked, mouth full. Amy looked completely flabbergasted at Tune’s popsicle, littered with her large sharp teeth marks as the raccoon girl chewed thoroughly.

“Not if it’s ice cold!” 

“Well then how do you eat before it melts?” Tune took another bite, completely nonchalant.

“Like a normal person!!” Amy all but screamed.

“Well then ‘normal person’, get cracking because I think I see some drippings on your dress already.”

“What?!” Amy exclaimed, seeing purple stains already littering her dress just as Tune described, her hand full of an already melting popsicle. “Oh, Gaia above, why do I even bother?”

Tune would approach Amy and pat her on the back, watching her frantically try to wipe any stains off to no avail. “Let’s get you some napkins, we can throw that in the wash when we get back home. I for one will get sick if I eat this much ice cream in one sitting, so I’m unfortunately gonna have to throw these in the cooler.” With that, she left Amy to her devices, finishing off her ice cream in just three bites. 

The gang once more got in some good chuckles. They walked off, Sonic and Silver taking a good glance and Tune from behind her, grasping at each other's hands unconsciously. They both looked at each other in surprise, warm smiles etched on their faces. Sonic would bump his shoulder against Silver’s, Silver mirroring his actions in kind.

“She’ll be okay.” Silver simply stated.

Sonic nodded in agreement, the ringing in his ear getting just a bit softer.

[cressidagrey]

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 12

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings: 

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Elain Bashing, Low Self Esteem, Burns, Discussion of suicidal thoughts (If this triggers you, PLEASE don't read it), Discussion of very "human" ideas of modesty, and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

“I can hear your fucking thoughts, even though I am not a daemati, so talk to me, Az,” Cassian grumbled.

Azriel turned his head, ceasing to stare at the ceiling as he had been doing for hours.

He couldn't get Eira's words out of his head. He hated the images her words had conjured up in his head — his sweet mate sitting in her bathing chamber, rocking back and forth, holding herself as tight as she could, trying to block everything out.

His mate, who had wanted to die.

The very thought was enough to make him want to break something, to find something to punch and claw at until his knuckles bled and his skin lay in tattered scraps. Until his rage and agony burned the images out of his mind, until he wasn't so sick to his stomach that he was half-convinced he was going to physically get ill.

"Stop thinking," Cassian said, still watching him with a grim expression that mirrored his own thoughts.

Azriel didn't bother answering him. Right now, he didn't even want to be here in this room. He didn't want to lie on this bed, staring at the ceiling, when he could be with his Eira.

His sweet, sweet mate, who would have hurled herself off a balcony or cut off her ears because it had all just...been too much.

Even the mere thought made his stomach lurch as if he was going to be sick. Gods, she had wanted to die, and he hadn't noticed. He hadn't known.

He had walked around, blissfully oblivious, thinking that she was better, that she was settling into life here as a High Fae, when she…

She hadn't told him, she hadn't said a damn thing, and he should have known from the start, should've known that she wasn't okay.

He should have paid more attention, should've pushed harder when she seemed upset, and instead, he'd just...he had just left her to struggle on her own when he should have...he should have...

She hadn't told him, she hadn't said a damn thing, and he should have known from the start, should've known that she wasn't okay.

“Talk to me, Az. Please."

He closed his eyes, trying to stop himself from thinking, and he could still see her, sitting in her bathing chamber, rocking back and forth, humming so she wouldn't have to listen, and he didn't even know for how long she had been doing that right under his nose, how much pain she had been in and how he had just let her...

"I should have known," he said quietly, the confession almost ripped out of him.

Cassian just listened.

"She's my mate. I should have known how she was feeling."

Cassian didn't say anything this time. He just watched him silently for a moment, the concerned look on his face still there.

"And how were you supposed to know?" he said finally. "If she didn't want you to know? If she didn't want to tell you?" Cassian sighed. "I didn't know how bad Nesta was feeling either. Is this about her sparks show when Eira talked to Elain?" he asked her.

Azriel grimaced.

"No," he said firmly. "I just...I couldn't get Eira's comment about stuffing cotton wool into her ears out of my brain. So I asked her," he admitted quietly. "She was...she was doing really badly for a bit," he admitted weakly. It was an understatement.

She had almost hurt herself, had wanted to kill herself instead of dealing with all of this, and he should have known. He should have-

"How can I have been so blind and stupid?" he grumbled more quietly.

"You're not stupid," Cassian retorted instantly. "And you're certainly not blind."

Azriel let out a scoff.

"Then how did I not notice?" he demanded. "How did I not notice that my own mate was...?"

"You're not stupid," Cassian said.

"Yes I am," Azriel snapped back. "I am stupid and a bastard, for not noticing, for not seeing how she felt," he said angrily.

Cassian let out a sharp huff at his words, watching him with an almost frustrated expression.

"None of us saw," Cassian snapped.

The door opened.

"I can hear you arguing," Rhys grumbled as he made his way across the room and flopped down on the bed.

"What's with Feyre?" Cassian asked with some bemusement.

"Feyre decided she would rather have a sleepover with Nesta and Eira," Rhys said with a long-suffering sigh.

Azriel couldn't help the brief hint of a smile at Rhys's words.

"Are you upset that she deserted you?" he asked dryly.

Rhys shot him a weak glare at his words. "I would like my mate to sleep in my bed, yes," he grumbled.

"You sound like a lovesick whelp," Cassian commented, and Rhys muttered something in response, that sounded strangely like oh, like you are any better.

Azriel made a low scoffing sound, a faint, but genuine smile touching his lips.

It vanished again a moment later, as the thoughts about Eira came rushing back.

"I don't understand how I didn't see," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. "I am such an idiot."

He could feel their gazes turning towards him again, but he didn't bother looking up, still staring at the ceiling, as he clenched his fist around the now-crumpled bedsheets.

"I just...I should have known," he said again. "We are mates. How could I have been so damn blind?"

"How could I have been so blind either?" Cassian asked. "Neither of Feyre, nor Nesta, nor Eira like to burden other people with their problems. Neither of us are mind readers...well other than Rhys."

Rhys let out a low scoff but didn't disagree.

Cassian had a point, but that didn't make Azriel feel any better.

"I still feel like a bastard for not seeing," he muttered.

It was his job to observe. It was literally his entire shtick. How could he not have seen that his own mate was suffering.

"Is it about the cotton wool comment?" Rhys asked quietly.

Azriel let out another huff, this time out of annoyance.

"Yes, it's about the damn cotton wool," he said harshly. "I just can't get the image out of my head. My mate, sitting in her bathing chamber, holding herself like a damn child while she rocks back and forth, listening to herself hum and trying to block everything out."

"She was pulling on her ears at the same time," Rhys said, his voice dark. "I saw a piece of it when I...accidentally went into her mind. She pulled at her ears because they were too long and too pointy and not hers. And then she bit her mouth bloody. It was... bad."

Azriel grimaced at those words, that image conjured up again, in even more detail this time.

He still couldn't quite get a grip on what he was feeling, with each moment that passed. He felt sick to his stomach, enraged, like he wanted to find something to punch, wanted to rip apart with his bare hands. He felt helpless and useless, like he had failed his mate, failed to protect her.

"She said she wanted to throw herself off a goddamn balcony," he said quietly. 

Rhys grimaced, and even Cassian's expression darkened.

"She was that bad..." he said quietly. "...How did...how did we not notice?"

"Because she didn't want us to notice," Cassian pointed out.

"I should've still noticed," Azriel snapped back. "I could have...I should have known that she was struggling."

There was a long moment of absolute silence, all of them just staring at the ceiling, probably running through the same thoughts as he did.

Then Rhys let out a sigh, closing his eyes as he spoke.

"How are we so damn incompetent sometimes?"

"Beats the hell out of me," Cassian said. "All three of us are supposed to be at least halfway competent, and you know, not total assholes. We should have known. We should have picked up the goddamn clues."

"And we didn't," Azriel said, his words coming out as a low growl that was almost lost in his chest. "And instead of...of helping her, of being there, she...she dealt with it all on her own, and we just stood around, blundering about like idiots."

His words were met with another moment of silence before Cassian let out a long sigh. "She is alright now, though, right?" he pointed out.

"She's not having thoughts of throwing herself off a damn balcony or cutting her ears off anymore," Azriel said gruffly. "So things have improved at least somewhat. Which I am very, very thankful for."

"So we know that at least," Rhys grumbled. "She's not having those thoughts anymore, at least not right now...although I certainly don’t like that it took her wanting to cut her ears off or throw herself off a balcony to get to this point."

Azriel let out another huff of annoyance.

"I just..." he began and took a deep breath. "It shouldn't have had to get so bad to begin with. We should have seen her struggling, damn it."

"Which we didn't," Cassian said again.

Another moment of silence, where they just laid around the bed, all of them staring at the ceiling, their thoughts going in the same circles. Azriel didn't know if it was a comfort, knowing that the others were feeling almost the same thing he was feeling, or if it was just making everything even worse, the knowledge that there were three of them — three strong, powerful males — and they had still all been so damn blind.

"How's your hand?" Rhys asked him suddenly

Azriel blinked.

"My hand?" he repeated dully, "It's fine," he grumbled. "I don't even feel it. Eira feels horrible though."

"Of course she does," Rhys agreed. "First her powers manifested and burnt a couple of Darkbringers to a crisp...and now her powers hurt you. Her mate." Rhys sighed. "I wish she would see the lightning as something beautiful and not something she must be afraid of," he muttered.

"She will," Azriel said firmly. "One day. She just...she just needs time. It's all still so fresh to her."

He had the feeling it was going to be a very long time before his mate would fully accept her own powers. "She needs to get used to them," he said quietly. "She needs to get used to the fact that she has powers to begin with. Just the idea...it's a lot for her."

"Understatement," Cassian grumbled under his breath. "Especially when you spent 3 years being treated like you were utterly useless like we did."

Azriel winced internally at the words.

It was their fault. They had done that.

The silence that fell after that statement was so deafening, that Azriel swore he could hear it.

They had done that. Eira's self-worth...or lack thereof, her feelings of uselessness and weakness...it was all their fault. And knowing that...knowing how damn useless and shitty they had been, knowing everything his mate had gone through, knowing just how much Eira had struggled, all while they had just blundered about like total idiots, it was a hard pill to swallow.

"How are you feeling about Elain now?" Cassian wondered.

Azriel stiffened slightly at the question.

He...he didn't really know.

Part of him wanted to strangle her, because of everything she had said, everything she had said about his mate. 

"I think the worst part...the worst part is the betrayal of it," Azriel said quietly. "She did it to get revenge. Because I turned her down."

Cassian grumbled under his breath at that, and Rhys let out a low scoff of agreement.

"She basically just hurt your mate as revenge for you turning her down," Cassian said, disgust clear in his voice.

Rhys grimaced. "I am sorry, Az," he apologised and Azriel knew why he apologised. Because without Rhys’ order, he wouldn't have stopped....he would have kept pursuing Elain.

Azriel closed his eyes for a moment, forcing a deep breath into his lungs, and trying to push down the anger that rose up at the memory.

"It's not your fault, though," he said quietly. "It's Elain's." That...that was a hard truth.

It was not Rhys's fault. He had no way of knowing this would happen.

All the blame lay with Elain.

"Elain's and her alone," Azriel said, and let out a long, slow breath.

It didn't make him hate Elain any less, though, that was for damn sure.

"I can tell how furious you are," Rhys said dryly, and Azriel let out a low snort.

"That obvious?" he grumbled.

"Oh, you're not exactly subtle," Rhys said dryly. "You're practically grinding your teeth."

"I feel like grinding Elain's face into the floor too," Azriel said lowly and very, very darkly. "And I don't even think that will make me feel any better."

"Let's talk about something nicer," Cassian said quickly. "How's that courting going?"

Azriel blinked at the change in topic, Cassian's question taking a couple of seconds to register.

"Uh...fine," he said after a moment. "Good."

He tried to think about their walks in Velaris, about picnics in the back garden…and not about the image of his mate sitting rocking back and forth in her bathing chamber, pulling at her new, pointed ears and biting her own mouth bloody.

"You sound certain," Cassian teased him and he rolled his eyes.

"I am pretty sure I keep messing it all up because if we actually were human we wouldn't even be allowed in the same room as each other without a chaperone," he said drily. Alone the thought about marrying another person, of spending the rest of his life with them, when he didn’t even have a private conversation with them once…was utterly foreign to him. 

But then, maybe it shouldn’t be. Some Illyrian customs were not any better at all. Just more violent. 

Rhys let out a low chuckle before he said amused.

“I am sure you made up for that with the sheer amount of birthday presents you gave her,” Rhys quipped with some amusement. 

"That were the shadows," he protested weakly.

She deserved them, the shadows said evenly, not bothering to defend themselves. And the next thing you need to do is find a House and a Ring, Master.

Azriel choked on his own spit.

"What was that, Shadowsinger?" Rhys asked dryly, and Azriel grimaced.

"Nothing," he said quickly and tried to keep his face a neutral as possible. "My shadows are just chatting, that's all."

Cassian and Rhys exchanged a long look before Rhys spoke again. "Your shadows are 'chatting' about what, exactly?" Rhys asked, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly now.

Azriel cursed silently under his breath.

"About nothing important," he lied and tried to sound as relaxed as possible, all the while silently praying to any God listening, that Cassian or Rhys would drop it.

They didn’t. 

They just looked expectantly at him. 

Azriel cursed silently under his breath.

"A House and a Ring," he grumbled. He could hear some of the shadows laughing.

Another long, dead silence fell, and Azriel squeezed his eyes shut again, knowing all too well that his friends were about to make fun of him ruthlessly.

"A House and a ring," Rhys repeated faintly.

Cassian let out a snort of laughter.

"Oh, shut up," Azriel grumbled, refusing to open his eyes again, knowing he would probably see Rhys and Cassian rolling around on the bed with laughter.

"Oh, no, we will absolutely not shut up," Rhys said, and Azriel could hear the smile in his voice. "Because you're thinking of marriage already, aren't you?"

"The books said that 6 months from courtship to a wedding was not unusual," Azriel defended himself.

That earned another loud burst of laughter from Cassian, and Rhys took in a deep breath before he replied, his voice still filled with stifled laughter.

"Oh, yes, six months sounds completely reasonable," Rhys promised him earnestly. 

There was another long moment of silence, where Azriel could feel the smirk on Rhys's face without even opening his eyes before Rhys spoke again. "But you are aware that you need to actually propose first, right?"

"Apparently I need the house for that," Azriel said drily. "I am supposed to show that I can provide a place where we can live after the wedding."

"Yes, of course," Rhys said, the very picture of false agreement. "How could I ever suggest otherwise?”

Despite his best efforts, Azriel couldn't hold back a low growl at the amusement in Rhys's voice. Cassian just laughed.

"I need to admit though, humans do it very...interestingly. They apparently don't even have a private conversation for 6 months before, before they ask the female to marry them and then immediately share a bed for the first time." Rhys said with a snort. "Though I guess it's not much different than what Keir wanted to do to Mor."

Another growl tore itself out of Azriel's throat at that reminder.

"Don't," he ground out, "don't even mention that old bastard's name in my presence," he warned, anger bubbling up inside him at the memory of what Keir had done. Not even to just Mor, but to Eira as well. 

"Though there is one thing you need to think about," Cassian said drily. "Everything Eira was taught about relationships and sex was the human way."

That managed to make Azriel go still all over, an uncomfortable sensation spreading through his entire chest, while a dark, cold feeling settled in his stomach.

And to make things even worse, Rhys continued with the same dry and far, far too gleeful tone, "Meaning that she willlikely expect you to wait for marriage."

He swallowed. "Then we wait," he said sharply. "I am not going to force her."

"No, of course you won't," Cassian said, suddenly a lot more serious. "We know you would never do that. But Eira probably has some...ideas of how a marriage would work. She seems to be the one of her sisters that still…clings to that the most. She was raised to be a wife, Azriel. She’ll think that your word is law.”

Despite still keeping his eyes closed, Azriel winced at those words. He had already thought about that. He had thought of that fact very heavily.

It was reminding him far too much of Illyria for his peace of mind, to be honest. The idea that he has a male was supposed to have any kind of power over his wife, that she was chattel for him to rule over…It was making him nauseous. 

He...he didn't like it at all. Eira thought that he would demand things from her...order her into things... but the idea made him want to punch something.

"Well, she won't think that," Rhys suddenly said, his voice sounding a lot more serious than before.

Azriel slowly opened his eyes at that and glanced at his friend, only to find Rhys's expression had hardened and was looking more...determined than amused.

"She will quickly learn that you will never order her to do anything," Rhys said firmly, and Cassian nodded in agreement.

Azriel just stared for a moment, his chest feeling a lot looser than before and his heart suddenly beating a lot faster.

Cassian and Rhys...they believed it wholeheartedly.

They didn't even doubt one second that he would never demand anything from his mate, from his sweet, gentle, quiet mate, who had been raised to listen and obey.

"You're our brother," Cassian said then, and Azriel's eyes suddenly shot to him. "We've known you for five centuries, and we know that you would rather cut off your own wings than demand anything of Eira."

Rhys nodded.

"We don't doubt for a second that you would never, ever, order her to do anything,"

A wave of gratefulness and grateful love for his brothers washed over Azriel all at once.

They understood.

They knew him. Knew that he would never order his mate to do a damn thing. Knew that the very idea of ordering her was more than enough to make him feel physically ill.

"So about that house..."

Azriel let out a huff at that question.

"I'm working on it," he said but was cut off by another snigger from Cassian.

***

"Scoot over," Feyre demanded in a whisper as she crawled into the bed next to her.

"I thought you would stay with Rhys?" Eira asked, but did as her youngest sister requested, careful not to bother a sleeping Nesta.

There was still light in the room, courtesy of the faelight, neither of them felt comfortable in a pitch-black room since the cauldron.

Feyre just grumbled something unintelligible under her breath at that as she settled in next to her sister, pressing up against Eira.

Eira smiled a little and shuffled on the bed, gently wrapping her arms around Feyre when the latter snuggled close, burying her face against her neck.

"Nyx seems to think that Ra Ra gives the best cuddles. I need some of those," she said, making Eira giggle. 

"Of course he does," Eira said, pulling her sister even closer. "Ra Ra is an excellent cuddler."

Feyre bit back the laughter so as not to wake Nesta and caught Eira's hand in hers. "How are you feeling?"

Eira just hummed, trying to figure out the best way to answer that question and finding it far more complicated than it should be.

"I feel...." she started, letting out a long breath as she thought about it. "I feel...I feel better. Still hurt. I don't think that will go away any time soon...but...better."

Feyre nodded slowly as if she had expected the answer.

"I can understand that," Feyre said, playing with her hand and then froze. "Eira, did you make a bargain?"

Eira blinked at the question, a pit opening in her stomach.

"A...a bargain?" she echoed numbly, and Feyre raised an eyebrow at her.

"Yes. A bargain," Feyre said, and tugged her hand up, so Eira could see Right there wrapped around the ring finger of her left hand, right where a wedding ring would sit, was a thin black band. Just that it wasn't a band. It was a bargain marking.

Eira stared at it numbly, and for a second, she just stared at it, feeling like she couldn't get any air into her lungs.

The bargain marking was wrapped around her finger, and the only person it could have come from was...

Azriel.

Her mate. That...that was her mate's bargain marking wrapped around her finger.

"Eira...?"

Some part of her was suddenly very glad that Feyre was there with her, because her sister's voice was the only thing that was keeping her at all grounded, and it took several long, shaky, breaths before she could force words out of her suddenly very tight throat.

"Y-yes, I...I made a b-bargain," Eira whispered.

"Accidentally, wasn't it?" Nesta said suddenly turning around. "You two can never manage to be quiet," she mumbled with a yawn. "What are the terms?"

"Yes, accidentally," Eira admitted, and Nesta nodded.

"Thought so," she said dryly, her voice only slightly slurred with sleep. "And the terms?"

Eira swallowed again.

"That I would come to him if I...whenever I have a bad day. The same goes for him."

That seemed to get the attention of both of her younger sisters, Feyre tensing against her and even Nesta's eyes grew a little wider.

"That's...a very loose bargain," Feyre said slowly, and Eira nodded.

"It...it was," she said, "It wasn't on purpose. It was just...just a promise."

"What exactly does it mean when you have a bad day?" Nesta asked her evenly.

Eira opened her mouth to answer but suddenly found that she really, really didn’t want to tell her sisters about the complete breakdown she had had earlier.

"Just.." she mumbled after a moment. "Bad."

Nesta's gaze sharpened.

"What does that mean, bad?" she demanded, the tone leaving no room for arguing.

Eira swallowed again, the fear of the consequences if she told her sisters suddenly growing inside of her.

"T-tired. Like everything is too much." she said, her voice breaking just a little bit as the memory of how much she had cried suddenly crashed down on her, "Or-or I...remember things. Like...like the war," she managed. "And I...I don't feel good. I feel...I feel like I did...after the cauldron. Everything is overwhelming. Everything hurts. I just want it all to stop."

Feyre's arms tightened around her, and Nesta's eyes grew very, very sharp.

"Do you...do you ever...try to hurt yourself?" Nesta asked softly, not quite managing to keep the concern out of her voice.

Eira's eyes widened at that, and she swallowed, shaking her head violently.

"Not...Not anymore," she whispered.

The concern in Nesta's eyes only grew, and she let out a small, shaky breath. "But you...you did?" she asked softly.

Eira just nodded silently, her voice having gone too weak to even speak.  "Afte the cauldron...I...used to...sometimes I bit my mouth bloody. Not on purpose!" she assured her sisters. "I just...If I didn't, I was going to be too loud. And I pulled on my hair and my ears but it wasn't..."

A long, long moment of heavy, tension-filled silence fell as Eira spoke, and she bit her lip to keep herself from crying again.

Until Feyre suddenly spoke again, her voice very, very low and very angry.

"How often? How often are your bad days?"

"Not...not often," Eira mumbled, closing her eyes again, because she could literally feel the anger emanating off of Feyre, her normally gentle sister holding onto her tight with a grip that bordered on pain. "And it's really not that bad," she tried to assure them both. "Really. I...I..It's gotten better. The shadows keep me company now when I have nightmares and then it's not..."

"How. Often?" Feyre demanded, her tone leaving no room for arguing. Eira had never, ever, heard her sister use that tone of voice.

"I don't know," she whispered, the words falling out of her mouth seemingly on their own. "A couple of times a month? It used to be more. After the war, it was nearly every day."

A sharp, sharp intake of breath came from Feyre, who pressed closer to her as if trying to keep her from disappearing.

"You...You never told us," Feyre breathed out, and it was clear how hard it was for her not to just...break down and cry.  "Why...why didn't you come to us?" Feyre questioned gently, and Eira closed her eyes, feeling herself tearing up at the broken tone in Feyre's voice.

And that...that just made it worse. Her sisters...they were her sisters. She was supposed to tell them when things were bad when she had a bad day. She was supposed to tell them.

"I...I didn't want to worry you," she whispered, and Feyre let out a shaky breath.

"It's our job to worry about you, you idiot," Feyre whispered, pulling her closer and wrapping her arms around her tightly. "You're supposed to tell us," Feyre muttered against her shoulder. "You're supposed to come and find us and we're supposed to hug you and comfort you."

A soft huff came from Nesta, and suddenly one of her hands gently stroked over her hair.

"Next time you have a bad day," Nesta said, tone leaving no room for arguing, "You tell us. Do you understand?"

"I am pretty sure I am supposed to tell Azriel," she protested weakly.

"You can tell him along with us," Feyre said firmly, gently tugging on her hair. "No keeping secrets from your family."

"Absolutely no keeping secrets from us," Nesta agreed. "If we find out you've had a bad day and haven't told us, I'll drag you to training with me."

Eira huffed out a weak chuckle at that because that was a very real threat if Nesta said it. There was no doubt in her mind that her sister would actually make her train with her until she dropped.

"You didn't come to us either," she told Nesta weakly.

"It doesn't matter," Nesta simply said, and her lips tugged into a small smile. "We're changing that now."

"We are," Feyre agreed, and her arms tightened around Eira again. "No more shutting us out. We're sisters. We deal with things together."

Eira let out a shaky breath, and a couple of tears fell down her cheeks as both Feyre and Nesta drew their bodies closer, enveloping her in their arms.

For a long, long moment, the three of them just lay there, soaking in each other's presence and Eira felt herself feeling...safe. Safe and loved.

"There better not be any more secrets," Feyre whispered after they had just laid there for a while, and Eira huffed out a small, dry chuckle.

"I don't have any more secrets," she mumbled, and Nesta let out a low scoff.

"Liar," Nesta told her, but there was no heat behind her words.

"I don't," Eira protested and felt Feyre's hands tighten around her.

"Don't worry," Feyre whispered soothingly, "if you don't have any now, you'll probably have more later," she said with a small smirk, and Eira groaned.

"That's not reassuring," she muttered, making Feyre laugh.

"Ah, but I imagine you'll have some secrets with Azriel eventually," Nesta teased her.

Eira's mouth dropped open at that, and her eyes went wide as a blush started up her cheeks. "I-I- you-"

Feyre snickered but was immediately interrupted by Nesta, who continued to speak, her tone as dry as a desert.

"Please, I don't need to a Seer to know that you two will be hiding quite a few things from us eventually," she said, and Eira suddenly wanted to bury her face against a pillow and die.

"Nesta," Eira protested weakly, but her sister just continued, and this time Feyre had clearly lost the fight against not laughing at her.

"Probably quite a few things at night," Nesta mused, and a strangled squeak came from Eira's mouth as Feyre cackled and her blush turned hotter.

"Can we...can we not...talk about this?" Eira protested, shoving her flushed face into a pillow. "Please?" she mumbled against it.

"Oh, come on," Feyre protested, "Don’t be such a prude about it! It's completely normal!"

Between a married couple! Not between…Not in a courtship!

Not…

"And I won't have my sister have anything but exceptional treatment from a male," Feyre said with a twinkling in her eyes.

“I-I-" Eiran tried to say something at that but found that her tongue had completely failed her. Exceptional treatment from a male...that was...what even meant that?

She hid her flaming face into the pillow again.

"Is he a good kisser?" Nesta asked, sounding curious. "Have you kissed?"

"I'm not answering that," Eira said firmly, her voice sounding very muffled as she kept her face pressed against the pillow. Feyre let out a soft snort.

"Oh, she's definitely kissed him," she said with a snicker as Eira made another protesting sound against the pillow.

"Has it been multiple times?" Nesta inquired, the words sending a jolt of something down Eira's spine, and Feyre let out another snicker.

"At least two," Feyre told her.

Eira made another strangled sound into the pillow because her sisters were not having this conversation. She was not having this conversation. This couldn't be happening.

“And have you done anything else?” Feyre asked her, her voice sounding amused, and Eira's head jerked up from the pillow almost comically fast.

"W-what?! N-no, of course not," she sputtered, her eyes wide and the blush on her cheeks very, very red.

"We aren't in the human lands," Feyre said with a shrug. "If two want more...well, then that's something that's between the two of you."

Maybe that was like it was in Prythian...but it wasn't ...it wasn't what Eira had...what Eira had...She had always been....she had always...Some things belonged in the marriage bed.

Some things were supposed to be between a wife and her husband. 

"We-" Eira protested, sputtering for words again and trying to say something, anything, to distract them from the path this conversation was going, but found her brain entirely empty.

She had been taught...

"I...I-" she tried again, but her tongue would not make it past the lump forming in her throat. There were rules. There were rules for this.

"We aren't married," she whispered. They weren't married.

Those words went through her like thunder, making her swallow heavily. If they hadn't been married...well it meant that...it meant that everything that she had been taught growing up was...

That they were...they were allowed to...to do more than...

A shudder went through her at the implications of that realization, and Feyre's eyes were on her carefully, quietly studying her expression.

She had always been taught...she had been taught that everything that could be done with a man belonged in the marriage bed. That it was...impure to...to want to do such things.

"You don't have to do anything," Feyre told her quickly. "Azriel would never force you, you know that, right?"

"Yeah," Eira mumbled, and it came out more weakly than she would have liked. Because she did know that. She knew that, logically.

But a small part of her...a small part of her that had grown up being taught these things was...was terrified.

"What are you worried about?" Nesta asked her suddenly, and Eira's head jerked to her.

"W-what?" she stuttered again, and Nesta raised an eyebrow at her. "You clearly have something on your mind," she said evenly. "Something that has you terrified. What are you worried about?"

"I...I..." Eira mumbled, and her face burned red again. There was no way in hell she was telling them that. "It's nothing," she mumbled, but neither of her sisters looked convinced.

"Liar," Nesta said bluntly, and Eira flinched.

"That's not true, I'm-" she protested weakly, but her voice cut out when Nesta frowned at her. Oh, Gods "I'm...I'm just...worried that....I want...I don't-...What if he doesn't want me like that?" she suddenly stuttered and pressed her face again into the pillow.

There was a beat of stunned silence after she spoke, and suddenly Feyre snorted.

"Oh, you have no idea how much that male wants you," she said, a wicked grin on her lips.

"He would kill to have you," Nesta agreed, and Eira could practically hear the smirk in her voice "But only when you're ready, of course"

[futureplayboibunnie]

Heartless Pt.1

Mafia Boss! Miguel O’Hara x fem! reader

You and Miguel are married to each other…and it wasn’t because of love.

okay i’ve redirected this fic and made it into a slowburn multi chapter series, in hindsight my last idea was too abrupt. i feel like this storyline is wayyyy better. I LOVEEEE SLOWBURN. i hope ya’ll like this one better! Part 2 up now!

PS. if you don’t like this type of stuff, don’t be stupid and comment on it because I really don’t care enough to hear it, use ur fingers and scroll. it’s not that hard.

You thought your wedding day would've been more romantic than this.

More personal, more involved, a consolidation of the many moments you shared with the man you were going to love forever, but free will and liberation were something that you gave up when your parents decided that it was in your family's entrepreneurial interest to participate in a partnership with the O'Hara Dynasty.

You weren't mad. It was just...different. You knew this day was coming but it was all wrapped together quite nicely, in a neat little bow.

Everything was done with the utmost sensitivity and respect, the O'Hara family's Consigliere placed piles of paperwork in front of you, NDAs were rarely ever necessary, and guns and fists normally did the trick but Miguel personally wanted all of this to be clean. He was getting married for the sole purpose of extending his power and influence, being a part of the 5 Families in this city wasn't something that was done without shedding blood. And Miguel shed a lot. This was a very important occasion to him, marriage was important in all generations of his family, and almost every single Don arranged a marriage with a woman from another Dynasty just for the purpose of spreading influence and agendas. Miguel and his brother talked for hours about it and in the end, he had to do what was necessary for his family and his capos. He needed to conserve what was his whilst also inserting his power.

Dealing with ill-tempered men and being a sounding board for their last scraps of sanity wasn't new but Miguel wasn't that. He was just silent in a way you didn't like. It was almost unsettling. Maybe it would be easier to hate him if he was an asshole, but he was very kind and respectful in the little words he said to you.

All of this was strictly professional, a beautiful show for the underworld. It was ridiculous and you felt like a fool, and after the day you had, it felt perfectly reasonable to feel that way.

It was your wedding day and word got around fast.

The dress he picked was fine.

The ceremony was fine

The ring was fine

Everything was just fine.

Now you were in his cold, lavishly destitute penthouse at an ungodly hour, sitting around, still in the wedding dress that you haven't taken off for some reason- maybe to compensate for the fact that you'll throw it in a corner, leave it in the cold and black dark, collecting dust for you to never see it again. Miguel's capos had to scamper around and follow you just about anywhere but for once, they left you alone with Miguel shooing them out.

Is this what your life would be like? Sitting around, waiting for something to happen? Was everything meant to be so banal and grey?

“You looked lovely today.” A low voice grumbled behind you, you whipped your head around to see Miguel leaving his study and entering the living room, he was still wearing his tux with that unknotted ugly bow tie that was crooked the whole ceremony. He looked tired. You gave him an agreeable smile in response.

"Thank you.” You said politely, there was just nothing purposeful behind your voice. All there was between you and Miguel was agreeable conversation, polite and meaningless drivel to distract from the very true and real fact that you were betrothed, you both owed each other something. Miguel gave you protection and you gave Miguel his pathway to influence- it was a business transaction, that was all, but it didn't mean that all of this wasn't abnormal. “I can't reach the zipper, can you please zip me down?” You asked as if it was a normal question- it wasn't for your kind of relationship but what the hell was normal nowadays? For Christ's sake, you were married to a man you barely knew and you slept in different rooms.

Miguel approached you in silence, watching you stand up from the couch and turn around. He liked the dress, he picked it out himself, you looked nice. His fingers found the zipper and pulled down slowly, watching the slivers of skin appear with every small tug down.

As far as women go, Miguel wasn't really that interested in sleeping around, every woman he shared himself with became a target or an opportunity pry into his head- he didn't want anyone messing with his internal affairs. Sometimes he'd cave and fuck one of the women serving him drinks at private poker nights, they always made eyes at him, begging him with fluttering eyelashes and wet lips to fuck them senseless. He was a man after all, sometimes it was enjoyable, sometimes it wasn't, he just needed to get off.

You on the other hand, you were unreadable in a way that he didn’t know how to approach.Though sometimes he did find you talking to him like an acquaintance vaguely irritating he would definitely be a hypocrite for calling you out.

It felt like you were holding your breath when he was finished, you settled baxk into your senses, he gazed over the patch of skin peeking out of your dress. He stopped his gawking when you turned around and gave him a weak smile like you would a friend or a neighbour. "Thank you. Goodnight Miguel.” You walked passed him and went to your designated room. Miguel did the same

You never really thought of yourself as an incurable romantic, but this was truly dull and you contemporary marriage like this. Even if it was to one of the most dangerous men in the city.

-

You awoke to a cacophony of sizzling and rustling noises coming from outside your room, your dreary eyes lulled by sleep couldn't fight against the delicious smell wafting from outside. Before you could fully register that breakfast was being made, the first thing you noticed was the heavy feeling of dread resting on your chest, you raked a tired hand over your face and rubbed your eyes awake. Opening them up fully, you saw the white fabric on the floor. In another life, the husband you actually loved would be laying next to you, whispering sweet nothings. Your wedding dress and veil were strewn about as if it was an article of clothing a teenage girl would carelessly discard while figuring out what to wear for a date with Tommy or Billy or Jason or whoever. But this wasn't high school drama, this was the type of life you were conditioned into.

Blood, war, and money.

You weren't complaining, the protection it offered you was immense. Miguel was a corrupt man dealing with equally corrupt politicians and people of interest, he had to adapt in his work but a part of you didn't believe he was the poisonous person everyone always made him out to be. Maybe it was because you hadn't seen him in his raw, primal ways, beating people bloody. That's what made you weary.

You shifted up and headed over to the walk-in wardrobe. This was the part that really stunted you, Miguel wanted you to wear what he specifically liked, everything was picked out by him and you still didn't know how to feel about it, but it made you grimace. You stepped in and glanced at the hangers, they were all ordered out by color and style. You noticed that he seemed to like satin and silk, and he was very particular about color, he liked black, silver, grey and even a baby blushed pink in certain articles. Your fingers grazed over the silk of the nightwear dresses, and the fabric of the gala dresses- you didn't like the idea of having to play pretend in front of too many people. You idled towards the drawers and wondered what he preferred when it came to underwear. You raised a cynical eyebrow and your lips pursed in curiosity as you let your finger pull it open.

Your mouth unhinged in a surprise you expected, but not in the way you thought of. He definitely had a thing for lingerie. God, there was a pair of everything, lacy, strappy, padded, unpadded, sheer garters, sparkly garters, knee highs, thigh highs. He was very particular indeed. It was tailored to your perfect cup size. Fucking hell. He liked Brazilian underwear but he seemed have an affinity for a thong too. You sighed and closed the drawer, you didn't want to read into it. Your eyes wandered to the muted pink silk robe hanging next to the drawer. Hm. That'll do for breakfast.

Miguel looked up from his newspaper to see you padding barefoot to the table where a spread was laid out. His maid, although young, ditzy and so obviously desperate to fuck him, was a very talented cook but the coffee she made always tasted like dirt. “Thank you.” He said to her plainly, he couldn't even look at her due to him being distracted by your presence. Your face creased into a light frown as you stared at the eye candy handing Miguel his coffee before she left as Miguel waved his hand. Of course the women who worked around him had to be insanely beautiful.

“Good morning.” Miguel grumbled before taking a sip. You were wearing the silk robe he liked. Good. Good girl.

You didn't say anything back, acting aloof and nonchalant seemed to be the only way of conserving whatever sanity you had left. The back of your throat had back drool when you stared at the delicious spread in front of you. You didn't know what you wanted to eat first. You grabbed a few pickings of everything, topped off with a mimosa. You ate in polite silence, minding your business, uninterested in anything he had to say at this point. Miguel settled down his newspaper and glared at you, you weren't particularly bothered by his presence, and that made him...unsettled. It went on like this for a solid few minutes.

“What?” You asked him, not even giving him the decency of looking him in the eye. Miguel was silent for a moment, contemplating your presence before he opened his mouth.

“We're leaving the city tonight.” He said oh so casually in that deep, low voice of his.

"And why is that?”You sighed tiredly, a slightly amused smirk twitched at your lips at this out-of-the-blue statement.

Miguel clicked his tongue and cooed at you, “Because cariño, my Consigliere has informed me that our marriage is not boding well with the other 5 Families, they think it's a covert attack in some sort of way, a questioning of power or sorts. And also..” He cut himself off for a reason unknown to him. “He also thinks it's a prudent idea to have a honeymoon, to hone everything in and make this...real.” He murmured as he rolled up his shirt sleeve.

Your eyes pricked up at the word 'real.' Wasn't this real? The papers were real. The ring was real. But the actual connection…? You glowered at him, your eyes narrowed.

“Do you think this is real?”

Miguel didn't know how to answer that. “Isn't real relative?”

“No.” You replied thickly like you didn't even need to think about it.

“Look. I don't want to discuss this.”

“So you can't compromise.” You shot back.

“No, I won't.” He pushed his chair back aggressively and sat his coffee down hard, he looked irritated by all of this. He didn't like that you thought you had the power to interrogate him.

Miguel walked past you as he went to exit the room but then for some reason he halted in his tracks. Compromise. Miguel is not known for compromising. The people around him know that for a fact, but he doesn't want this marriage to be another agenda that he has to put up with. He didn't want to hate you.

He sighed.

“Choose where we go. Tell my brother and he'll tell my pilot.” Miguel said coldly, his tone clipped and gruff even when he was trying to build a bridge of some sort.

It didn't seem like you had a choice, so now you were just another lackey he ordered around.

[wildfairies]

daphne wiseman of mind blind 🧠🛍️💅🏼

by @mindblindbard!

whew this is a big lookbook! i’ve been working on daphne’s wardrobe for almost nine months now 🤯 mind blind is really special to me for many reasons, but a huge one is how it exemplifies just how much little choices can build character development. all it took was that chapter 1 option to have the mc sleep on bamboo sheets because she “likes a little luxury” and daphne walked into my head fully formed! the game has so much heart and humor, the personality choices are so unique and thoughtful, i could go on and on but 10/10 recommend, more on daphne below.

i had originally had little notes written by daphne on her outfits, but i scrapped them because it looked too cluttered. however they were cute and important to her character so i’m just gonna write them here!

everyday: can you believe grayson still won’t take a hint despite the baby tees daphne wears?! she lives to make him blush. also those vintage von dutch jeans are her prized possession

formal: spot the dress she wears to reese’s dinner party! the rest are for blending in at nick’s unity events-- enough to avoid the press while still catching the eye of an attractive stranger.

athletic: daphne puts on these outfits to walk on the treadmill for twenty minutes then take selfies

sleep: nick and sally constantly roast daphne for her obsession with cute pjs. nick complains that the money she spends on nice pajama sets is a major drain on resources

party: daphne’s favorite clothes to wear to the underground music venues she attends every weekend. music, especially live music, is her best coping strategy. the attractive company also helps keep her mind off grayson.

swim: daphne had big ideas for a post-graduation trip with sally to turks and caicos. though the vacation fell through, she kept the outfits. 

hot weather: some remnants of her coconut girl phase, and rarely weather appropriate. 

cold weather: no these are not all warm enough for chicago winters, but fashion is pain. also daphne rarely leaves the house without her headphones on

[areyouwell]

Athazagoraphobia

Noun: An extreme and irrational fear of forgetting. Children or adults with this condition tend to experience nausea, raised heart rate or panic attacks when attempting to remember someone they don't.

Ch.5

Ch.4, Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <--

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, sexual content, talks of suicide, suicide attempt, descriptions of extreme bodily harm, needles, this chapter gets dark, reader discretion is advised

Word Count: 13.7k

A/N: i have been looking forward to this chapter for so long oh my GOD i am vibrating. this is the shit i love, although the absolute BATTLE i just fought to get this post off the ground was long and arduous so rip my formatting tumblr didn't like it :( god gives his hardest battles to his silliest soldiers. also kurt and hank are here because i felt bad leaving them out timeline WHAT TIMELINE?

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside

To say Logan hadn’t gotten much sleep was an understatement. Sure, he’d dozed off here and there, but he would jolt awake every time you held so much as a sleepy breath. He couldn’t shake the image from his mind. Seven of them. The way their heads cocked at an unnatural angle. The way they silently stared, faceless, voiceless, seemingly just watching. Waiting. The way they sank back into the shadows the moment you stirred. They must have been from you, some subconscious product of your mutation. Still, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t creep him out a little. 

Though, he didn’t know what else he expected. You could manipulate and walk through shadows. You were bound to have some creepy quirks, as well as constantly looking tired, apparently. 

Sunlight streamed through the curtains, dust mites floating in the golden beams filtering through the leaves of the various plants near your window. You’d told him a while ago you’d named them all, something about giving them a voice making them grow faster, or something else equally as ridiculous. He still didn’t quite know which one was Molly and which one was Dalia, but he could tell his Herberts from his Judases, which was a start, he supposed. 

Fucking hell he was down so bad.

You still slept soundly against his chest, occasionally a soft snore would melt his heart, or a discontented pinch of your brow only to smooth out when you nestled closer. Part of him wished neither of you ever had to move. Actually, scrap that, he wished you didn’t have to move with his whole being. He silently thanked whoever came up with the idea of Saturdays and the knowledge that the two of you could spend a lazy morning in bed without the approaching threat of teaching a class. 

Maybe he would take you out today, steal Scott’s bike and escape for one peaceful moment. There were a few lakes nearby he wouldn’t mind visiting with you, end the day at a bar or something. The image of you perched behind him on the bike, your arms wrapped around his middle, cheek resting against his back made up his mind. He was definitely going to take you out today. Get away from everything for a while. Away from teaching, training, the possibility that if you didn’t get your mutation under control you could be lost to the shadows for good…

That kind of thing. 

He gazed down at you, your mussed hair and twitching features. He loved you. Logan knew that. Two months and he was already certain. It was just saying it, he struggled with. Admitting it out loud. That’s where the problems started. It was like he was cursed, the moment he uttered those three words, some kind of catastrophe would strike and he’d lose everything for good. 

He hoped you knew. Fuck, he hoped you knew. Hoped you knew that with every waking moment, he burned to be near you, seared with the need to touch you. Even innocently. A hand on your knee, an arm around your shoulder, anything. Sure, he’d happily spend the rest of his life with his face between your thighs or his cock submerged in your cunt, but that didn’t seem realistic. And, if nothing else, Logan was a man of realism. 

A sigh escaped your slightly parted lips, eyes fluttering slightly as you started to wake. He brushed the stray hairs from your face, your features scrunching, blinking awake. 

“Good mornin’,” he smiled, and you groaned in response, closing your eyes again and hiding your face in his chest.

“No.” your response was muffled but audible, and he cocked a brow.

“Bad mornin’?”

You shook your head slightly. “No morning. Wake me when it’s midday.”

If there was one thing Logan had learnt about you, it was that you were not a morning person. ‘Too much light’ was your typical excuse, and he couldn’t say he blamed you. He used to drag himself out of bed with the promise of a strong cup of coffee before he became a teacher. He didn’t know why he was shocked to learn you were a night owl, it made a shit ton of sense considering your mutation. Though he chalked it down to the fact that your smile shone like the sun itself.

“Coffee?” He asked, and that silenced your protests. Your clock was still discarded on the floor, but flicking his wrist up in front of his face, he grinned seeing the time. 8 am. Oh, you were going to be furious. Especially since it was a Saturday. 

“What time is it?” you asked, raising your head from his chest and turning your head to your window as if the sun had personally offended you. You had half the mind to storm over to the curtains and snap them closed. If only you hadn’t been so comfortable, you’d really show the sun what for.

“A little after eight…” he said tentatively, and your head whipped back to look at him, face a picture of utter disbelief. 

“You’re fucking joking.”

“Nope, sorry sweetheart, the clock doesn’t lie.” he showed you his wrist with the time, and you groaned in frustration, your forehead hitting his chest in defeat.

“It’s a goddamn Saturday, not even Jubilee is up this early on a Saturday.” You lamented, pulling the covers up and over your head. Logan chuckled slightly, finding your detest for mornings amusing as you hid from the sun. “Fucking curtains not being closed for the fucking light to get in fucking god fucking damnit.”

“Yeah, you tell ‘em.” His hand rested on your covered head in faux protection, feeling you shift beneath the duvet, your angry huff fanning his chest. 

“I will.” He could almost hear your pout, shuffling forward to poke your head from the covers like the world’s most gorgeous groundhog, the duvet wrapped tightly around your head so he could see only your face. “Did you say coffee?” You asked, and even if you didn’t have the hope of a child being offered a lollypop dancing in your eyes, he still would have nodded. Though with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. 

Couldn’t appear too keen to bend to your every request.

“What’ll you give me for it?” He smirked, knowing full well there were very few lengths you’d go through to acquire a fresh pot of caffeine in the morning. And your narrowed eyes confirmed that knowledge. 

“I’ll suck you so hard you’ll see fucking stars.”

Logan choked on his own saliva. He didn’t know what he was expecting but it certainly wasn’t that. “Fuckin’ freak…” he muttered, failing miserably at hiding his smile. You flashed him a toothy grin, knowing you had him in a box. Honestly, you’d do it anyway just for fun and maybe to tease him a little. 

Logan threw back the covers on his side of the bed, waiting for you to move so he could sit up and start his coffee-making mission. Only, you didn’t move, just blinked at him expectantly. “You gotta move, hun.” 

“Why can’t you be telekinetic, so inconvenient.” You grumbled, reluctantly releasing him from your arms and rolling onto your other side, only to huff once again as sunlight invaded your eyes. “Fucking sun!”

Logan watched with no small degree of admiration as you angrily threw one of your pillows and the window, eyes tracking the trajectory as it hit the curtain with a slight thump before falling to the floor. “You showed him.” He quipped, receiving a small kick to his side. 

You looked over your shoulder as he stood, watching his naked body shamelessly. Shit, he was so fucking hot. Your mouth almost watered as he stretched his arms above his head, his back flexing, muscles tensing. You sat up a little against the headboard, sandwiching your thumb between your teeth as he flexed his back again, and this time you knew it was on purpose.

“Enjoyin’ yourself?” he didn’t even need to look to know your eyes were on him. He could feel them, for fuck’s sake. And your maniacal little laugh confirmed it all.

“You’re nice to look at, excuse me for finding you attractive.” There wasn’t even a hint of guilt in your voice. You really were a freak weren’t you? 

Logan slowly turned to face you, watching as your eyes dragged up and down his body, your mischievous smile only widening. He cast his gaze skyward, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Ya done?”

You clicked your tongue. “Not even close. But, I really want a coffee, so I guess I am for now.” You shrugged as if you hadn’t just been fucking the shit out of him with your eyes. Logan huffed a laugh, shaking his head in fond disbelief. As if you couldn’t be any more endearing. Yes, you were a grumpy little shit in the mornings, but you were his grumpy little shit. And he had a sneaking suspicion you might feel exactly the same about him. 

You rolled your eyes as he shrugged on his singlet, pulling up his briefs and jeans before looking around the room, unable to locate his belt. He spun in a slow circle, eyes scanning the floor. He swore it had fallen with his jeans. “Have you seen my–”

Hearing the telltale clink of metal, Logan looked back at you holding up the leather by his buckle. That was not where he thought he’d left it. He raised a brow of questioning, and you shrugged again. “I had it on hand. In case…” you trailed off and his eyes widened in scandal, brow furrowed.

“In case of what?!” 

“Just, in case.” You pursed your lips in an attempt to hide your filthy grin and failed spectacularly. Logan barked a laugh of disbelief, skirting around the bed and snatching the belt from your hands, tossing it on the covers as he trapped you in his arms.

“You,” he started, before pressing his lips to yours. “Are such,” he kissed you again. “A freak.” He finished, moulding his mouth against your own in a lingering, lingering dance. You giggled into his lips, your hands finding the soft strands of his hair. “Only two months in and you already want me to tie you up?” He drew back with a smirk, just far enough to see the perversity in your eyes.

“Who said anything about tying me up…?”

He blinked. How many fucking surprises were you going to spring on him this morning? “Hate to break it to ya darlin’, but if that’s your intention then a thin strip of leather ain’t gonna cut it.” 

Your irises sparkled with the realisation that he wasn’t saying no. “Well, in that case, I’ll just have to get something stronger.” You murmured, closing the gap between the two of you once again before breaking it almost immediately. “Maybe some of those metal zip ties… or just a really thick wire. I dunno, how strong are you?”

“Real fuckin’ strong.”

Your brows furrowed in thought, and he ruffled the top of your head. “Don’t strain yourself.”

You gaped in mock offence. “So rude. Go get coffee, I don’t even want to look at you right now.”

“Weren’t sayin’ that earlier, were ya?”

“Yeah, but now your shirt’s on.” 

“Face not good enough for ya?”

“Not when it’s insulting me, no.”

“And when it’s doing this?” Logan leaned into your neck, his tongue darting out to lick along the side of your throat, teeth gently nipping at your soft, bruised skin from last night. You gasped a strangled moan, still sensitive from where he’d left his marks on you. 

“That’s more forgivable.” You breathed as he drew back, a smug smirk plastered across his face. “Go, before I drag you back into bed and have my freaky little way with you, belt and all.” You wiggled your brows and he chuckled darkly, as if anything you said could be seen as a threat. But he acquiesced nonetheless, feeding his belt through the loopholes of his jeans, securing the clasp. 

“I’ll be back in a few.” He placed a kiss to your forehead and you hummed a soft, contented smile before he turned away and headed out down the hallway. You were right, it was far too early for anyone to be awake on a Saturday. As far as he could hear, nobody was up yet, which just meant he got a good few more hours to spend with you before the rest of the mansion started to think you were either dead or missing. You weren’t a morning person, but that didn’t mean you weren’t up most mornings, just with a face like thunder. 

He loosened a contented sigh, cracking open the door to the kitchen before crossing to the kettle and flicking the switch, listening to the low hiss of the water heating up before he pulled open the overhead cupboards to retrieve two mugs, a glass one for him and your favourite one for you. Logan realised with no small degree of shame that he didn’t actually know your birthday, and come to think of it, nobody else had mentioned it either. He hoped it hadn’t already been and gone, seeing your small collection of mugs had given him the perfect idea. 

He rifled around for a bit, before locating the larger, cáfetier. It was easily big enough for two cups and then some. Popping open the steel lid to the coffee grounds, he spooned four heaps into the glass, guestimating the correct amount. Two heaps each seemed about right…

It had been too long since his biggest worry was something as domestic as how many heaps of coffee should he put in a cáfetier for two. It gave him a sense of peace, despite the events of three days ago. And with nobody else up and about yet, it really did feel like the two of you were alone in the world. 

And honestly, he’d be fine with that.

At least, it did feel like, before the fantasy was shattered by approaching footsteps. Logan groaned internally, knowing that gait and heft anywhere. He didn’t even need to turn around to know it was Scott. Why, of all people, did it have to be fucking Scott.

“Logan… I didn’t know you’d be in here so early.” His tone was curt, stunted almost as if he was allergic to being nice. Logan simply grunted, pouring the freshly boiled water into the cáfetier and placing the lid on. 

“I was just leavin’.” He responded gruffly, hooking his fingers around the two mug handles and carefully lifting the coffee pot, making for a quick escape before Scott cleared his throat. 

“I uh… Look man, I wanted to say I’m sorry,” Logan paused, giving Scott a sidelong glance, a silent suggestion for him to continue. “About what happened the other day. The Professor was right, it wasn’t the time for us to fight.”

Logan grit his teeth. “That’s what you’re apologising for? Not for suggesting we should just get rid of her?” he snarled, his fingers tightening on the mug handles. Scott sighed, running a stressed hand through his hair. 

“It’s not– It’s not that simple, Logan. She’s done this before, and last time it resulted in the death of one of our teammates. Jade was so kind. And she–”

“Loved her, yeah I know.” Logan finished, and Scott started in surprise.

“She told you that?” he asked, disbelief lacing his tone.

“I’m startin’ to think you’ve never actually had a conversation with her.” He bit, keeping his self-control intact. Though he didn’t know how annoyed you’d be if he told you he’d smashed your favourite mug over Scott’s head. 

“She was my teammate before you were, Logan. I– It’s not easy to be the one to make these decisions, or even suggest them. But sometimes we need to do things to protect other people. You know that.”

Logan nodded in confirmation. He did know that. He knew that better than anyone. “And you should know that there is nothing I won’t do to protect her. So you come at her again, spoutin’ bullshit about neutralising a threat, and there’ll be no Professor to stop me from tearin’ you apart. Got it?” He snarled, subconsciously baring his teeth. Scott sighed again. It wasn’t uncommon for Logan to threaten his life, when they first met it was almost on a daily basis. 

“I don’t want to neutralise her. I just want her under control,” he explained wearily. “Sure, the first time this happened and she killed Jade, I’d been the one to suggest that. But we were scared. We were damn terrified of her. It was only thanks to Jean that she came back.”

Logan paused for a moment. He knew Jean was keeping something under wraps. “How? What exactly did she say?”

Scott shrugged, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. “No clue. She wouldn’t tell me. She told me to ask the Professor, but we were all a little caught up in grief to ask questions at that point, and by the time we’d all managed to move on, it didn’t seem to matter anymore,” Scott paused, evidently debating his next words. “But she responded to you. We all saw that. So, what I’m trying to say, is keep doing whatever it is you’re doing. None of us want her gone, Logan. We couldn’t help her, but maybe you can.”

It was the closest thing to a compliment Logan had ever received from the man, and he honestly didn’t know what to do with it. So he nodded in silent acknowledgement. It wasn’t exactly an olive branch, but something had definitely shifted in their dynamic. But before he could contemplate it further, Scott piped up again. “I’m happy for you two, by the way. You really complement each other. Or maybe I’m just happy you haven’t been making eyes at Jean for the last two months.”

Nevermind. He hated the prick. “Go fuck yourself, Scott,” he uttered with disinterest, and if he had either of his hands free, he would have flipped him off as he left. Heading back up the stairs, Logan wondered when it would ever just stop. When everything would finally come to a halt and he could have just one day for the two of you and not think about anything catastrophic happening. Yet here he was, climbing the flight of stairs up to the third floor, contemplating your mortality. He fucking hated it. 

And he was having such a nice morning, too. 

Shouldering open the door to your room, he was greeted by an empty space and the sound of running water coming from the bathroom, steam rolling out of the small gap where you’d left the door open a crack. Maybe he could still salvage this morning after all. 

Settling down the coffee and mugs on your nightstand, he left the grounds to soak in the water before briskly stripping off his clothes, leaving them in a collected pile at the foot of your bed and slowly opening the bathroom door a little wider. It was like a sauna in there, steam fogging up the mirror, the walls sweating. You hummed a soft tune, one he recognised after a beat.

It was the same song he’d asked you to dance to. 

His heart inflated as he opened the steamed-up door to step in behind you, wasting no time in wrapping his arms around your waist to your small jump and gasp of surprise.

“‘S’just me, don’t worry,” he soothed, burying his face in the crook of your slick neck. Your hair hung limp, freshly washed as you leaned back into him, holding his arms against you.

“Mmm, was just thinking about you.” You hummed, and if Logan wasn’t already half hard at the sight of your dripping naked body, that low, sultry tone of your voice would have been enough. 

“Yeah?” he loosened his grip so you could turn around to face him, your arms slinking up his body and around his neck. “What about me?” he asked, biting back his groan as you swapped places with him, warm water cascading down his back. 

“‘Bout last night… all the things I didn’t get to do…” You teased his lips with whispers of kisses, barely making contact as you held his gaze hostage, your eyes darkening with each passing moment. He felt lightheaded already when you bypassed his mouth altogether, your teeth instantly biting down against his collarbone. 

“Like what?” he strained, his hands skirting up and down your waist, your lips trailing up the hollow of his throat, over to the side of his neck where you sucked a harsh bruise that, to your irritation, faded instantly. You knew doing it again was a losing battle, but that didn’t stop you from sinking your teeth into his flesh, feeling his rising groan on your tongue as you smoothed over the unmarked skin. Your hands braced against his chest as you rose up on your tip toes to breath into his ear.

“I wasn’t joking earlier.” Was all you muttered, nibbling at his earlobe and leaving the side of his head tingling before you travelled lower down the curve of his fuzzy jaw, back down the path you’d carved for yourself, pressing kisses down his chest, your nails lightly scratching down either side of his ribs, following the curve of his hip bone and to his hard cock. 

Logan inhaled as you took him in your wet palms, squeezing around his shaft, delivering pinches with your teeth around one of his nipples, clamping down around when you teased his already leaking tip.

“Shit…” he gasped as you sucked against his shockingly sensitive bud, the scent of your own arousal heightened in the steamy heat, driving him mad with need. Releasing him from your mouth, you giggled softly as he thrust into your grip, his hands sliding from your waist to your hair as you sank to your knees before him, making sure you kept eye contact. 

  Sticking out your tongue, you waited for what felt like an eternity to him, before you delivered a small kitten lick to the underside of his cock. His jaw fell open as he watched you, all your attention now stuck on teasing the fuck out of him, not going any further than small, short swipes. He didn’t want to push you but holy shit were you testing his self-control. 

“Fuckin’ tease.” He huffed, gritting his teeth when your malleable tongue traced one of the thick, pulsing veins down the side of his shaft. His fingers tightened in your hair, though not to move you, rather just to feel you beneath his fingertips. 

Logan’s head fell back as your lips enveloped his sensitive tip, and he realised he would happily drown in this shower if it meant you didn’t stop, water washing away the sweat from his brow, bouncing off his closed eyes. A gravelly moan bubbled from his chest, echoing slightly off the walls. “Jus’ like that, baby,” he whispered almost to himself as you took him further, your pointed tongue dragging down the underside of his cock, one of your hands pumping what you couldn’t fit, the other braced against his hip to hold him still. 

You bobbed your head slowly, tasting the distinct musk and salt of his ecstasy as you flattened your tongue, hollowing your cheeks and humming lowly. The bathroom became an orchestra of gravelly groans and airy gasps, all drowned out from the outside world by the running water. Sinking into a comfortable rhythm, you looked up at his head thrown back, one of his hands had moved from your hair to the wall as he all but leaned against it.

Opening your throat, you slipped him further in your mouth until your nose was nestled comfortably against the coarse hairs at his naval. There you held him for a moment, swallowing around his cock and he fucking whimpered at the feeling of your throat squeezing him. You gagged slightly, and Logan looked down, his jaw slack as he took in possibly one of the hottest things he’d ever seen in his over a century of being alive. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and he made to pull away to give you a moment to breathe. But the moment he shifted, your nails dug sharply into either side of his hips, holding him against you. 

He stuttered moaning of your name and you knew he was close, so you hummed around him again, the vibrations of your voice travelling his throbbing length. The hand in your hair tightened as he slowly thrust his hips into your wanting mouth, gently fucking your face. 

“Jesus Christ you feel good…” he uttered breathlessly, tensing his jaw as he approached his peak. You smiled wickedly around his cock, dragging your slick tongue down that same vein you were paying attention to earlier as he moved back, your teeth ever so slightly scraping atop his length, and it was his undoing. 

Pleasure flooded his senses, fire coursing through his blood as he went to pull from your mouth, only to have you angrily shove your head forward, swallowing again around his member as he threw his head back to embrace the stream of the shower. “Fuck, fuck!” He stuttered a long, drawn-out groan as he spilled into your mouth, painting your throat white as his hips bucked uncontrollably, the tips of his claws poking through his knuckles as he fought to keep control, stars dancing behind his eyes.

The waves of ecstasy receded with each pulse, leaving him dizzy and gasping, his head falling forward to catch his breath and steady himself. Looking up from your knees, you drew back, leaving a lingering kiss on the head of his cock, your hands gently squeezing his thighs. 

“You okay?” You asked, rising to your feet, palm softly cupping the underside of his jaw and moving his face to look at you. He was stunned, dazed almost, as he wordlessly searched your eyes for an answer to a silent question. You laughed a little, and he drew you in with a thumb and forefinger pinching your chin, claiming your mouth with his lips in a delicately passionate kiss. The way he tasted himself on your tongue almost had him hardening again. 

“You almost suffocated yourself and you’re asking if I’m okay?” he asked with subdued disbelief, and you grinned wildly. 

“You seemed out of it for a moment, wanted to make sure I didn’t kill you.” You responded with airy innocence, and Logan huffed a laugh.

“Murder attempt number two. Not a great track record, huh?” He teased lightly, and you narrowed your eyes at him. But before you could come up with some witty retort, he sank to his knees before you, throwing a leg over his shoulder so bruskly you had to steady yourself against the wall. “Fuck you’re so hard to ignore when you smell this fuckin’ sweet, darlin’.” He murmured, before wasting no time in devouring your cunt until you were whimpering his name and gushing all over his tongue. 

Consider the morning salvaged.

“This is going to be insanely strong coffee.” You called from the bedroom as Logan dried his hair with a spare towel, draping it across his shoulders before padding out the join you. “Someone didn’t want to leave the shower.” You shot pointedly with a small grin. He simply shrugged in response, trying not to be too disappointed that you’d thrown on a baggy t-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs. 

“Not sure how I’m to blame for that.” He crossed the room to stand behind you, towel wrapped dangerously low around his hips and circled his arms around your waist, setting his chin atop your head. “You started it.” 

You leaned back into his chest, basking in the warmth of his embrace. It was these little moments of soft domesticity that you craved with him. Yeah, the sex was great. Mind-blowing, in fact, and teaching and training with him was a fantastic excuse for the two of you to spend time with each other, but it was these moments you valued. Swaying in the kitchen to whatever song blared from the radio, your head resting on his lap as you dozed off to some shitty reality tv-show, or vice versa. These were the moments you’d remember when you were old and grey and he was–

Still looking gorgeous and young. Fuck, you hadn’t thought about that. How had that only just occurred to you? You pushed the thought into the furthest corners of your mind. Now was not the time to be entertaining such things. 

“Why did you take so long, by the way? I was halfway through the intended length of my shower by the time you got back.” You asked, mourning the loss of his contact as you went to pour the coffee into the two mugs, your heart expanding when you saw he’d picked your favourite one. The one Kitty gifted you. 

“Ran into Scott in the kitchen…” You snorted at the irritation in his tone, clearly not a fond memory. 

“What’d he have to say for himself?” A hand extended behind you, clasping the top of the glass mug between your fingertips as you handed it to him, pouring yourself a mug of your own before you turned to sit on the bed.

“Thanks. He was just runnin’ his mouth, to be honest with ya. Though he did apologise, which felt weird.” Logan returned to his side of the bed, sitting up against the headboard and raising his arm as a silent request for you to join him. You shuffled closer, ducking beneath his arm and cosying into his side, making sure to hold your full mug of coffee steady. 

“He did? What for?” 

“We argued the whole training thing. He was apologising for the timing of it.” 

You snorted a laugh into your mug. “Trust Scott to apologise for the thing that mattered least. But it’s a start, I guess. He say anything else?”

“Not really. Said he was happy for us and that we complemented each other, which also felt weird.” He didn’t think you’d be thrilled about the Jean comment, so he left that in the past like he had his feelings for her. 

“Huh. Strangely nice of him.”

“‘S what I thought.” 

You sipped on your drink, pleasantly surprised it was still warm, savouring the bitter-roasted flavour. “Yeah, a little too long, think the beans are a bit burnt, but it’s still good.”

“How’dya know the beans are burnt?” 

“You can taste it. Or I can. I was a barista for a while, dontcha know?”

He raised a brow. No, he didn’t know that. “How many jobs have you had?” He asked, impressed that you had such a wide range of skills. You thought for a moment, it was actually a pretty good question. 

“Ya know what? I have no idea. What’s funny is that I never remember quitting them either. I’d just wake up one day and bam! New job. I guess I liked to bounce around a lot. Still do.” You elbowed him, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively and he groaned in exhaustion. 

“Terrible.”

“You liked it.” You stuck out your tongue and he huffed in amusement. Yeah, he did. And he wasn’t about to deny it.

Logan paused for a moment, knowing the next topic he wanted to talk to you about was likely going to be a sensitive one. You hadn’t told him for a reason, and if you didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t push you, but he wanted to let you know that he knew. “Can I see your wrist…?”

Predictably, you shot from his side, muttering a curse as your coffee sloshed from your mug and onto your hand. It wasn’t like you’d made an effort to hide your scars, it was more that you banked on the fact that people, generally, were too afraid to ask. But you should have guessed Logan of all people wouldn’t shy away from something like that. Not where you were concerned anyway. 

Tentatively, you set your mug down on the nightstand, turning back to him and offering one of your wrists. He did the same, shifting to set his own mug down before slowly taking your outstretched hand in his own, inspecting the deep, faded scar with the pad of his thumb. “When?” He asked gently.

“Years ago. It’s all kind of a blur really, and I don’t remember much of it. I just– I was terrified of being a mutant and couldn’t see a way out. I think my brother found me, and took me to a hospital. I don’t know why they’re still there, honestly. I’ve used my mutation countless times since, but I guess scars are as part of the mind as they are the body. Or something like that.” It was the only explanation you had for the marks littering your body, not just the ones on your wrists, but your chest, thighs, and neck. You were a scrappy kid, always picking fights with the wrong people. 

Logan brought your wrist up to his lips, ghosting featherlight kisses down the raised line. “I’m so sorry.” He murmured, and your heart bled. He had nothing to apologise for, you hoped he knew that. 

“‘S’okay. I… learned to accept what I am. Rowan helped me with that. That’s his name, don’t know if I ever told you. After he was done being mad at me, that is. Not that I blame him. I don’t know what I would have done had the roles been reversed.” 

“You got on well, didn’t ya?”

You sighed. “Yes and no. We did when we were kids, but as we got older we started to drift apart. I think the grief over our parents changed him, and he got more cautious, whereas I got more reckless. We would fight a lot, but that didn’t mean I loved him any less. I just wish I could remember what our last argument was about. We were so fucking mad at each other, I left and deleted his fucking number.” You huffed a sigh of past frustration, turning to retrieve your mug of coffee. 

That was news to him. He didn’t know your parents had died. He knew they weren’t around during your teen years, but he didn’t know they’d died. But the way you just casually mentioned it told him it was a topic that didn’t need discussing right now. 

You settled back against him, his arm draping over your shoulders, your head dropping to the dip in between his collarbone and neck as silence settled back over you. You appreciated the way he didn’t press you for more. You doubted you’d be satisfied with such a brazen explanation, and you knew he most likely had more questions for you, so when he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, you smiled against his skin. 

“‘M gonna take you out today.”

“Like on a date or with a gun?”

You felt his snort of laughter against your cheek. “Have you always been this dark?”

“I’m a shadow weaver, comes with the territory.” You responded nonchalantly. 

“‘S that was you’re calling yourself now?”

“Nah. I still kinda like Phantom. But who knows, maybe I’ll change my mind someday.” You raised your head to take another sip of your coffee, grimacing as the liquid had gone from piping hot to lukewarm.

“On a date, dumbass. Thought we could get away for a while.” He brushed a strand of your hair back from your face, smoothing over your eyebrow with his thumb. 

“What’d ya have in mind?” You asked, leaning into his touch a fraction. 

“Take a drive, head to one of the lakes in the area, grab a drink after. Things normal couples do.”

You huffed in amusement. “We’re not a normal couple, Lo’.”

He smirked slightly. “Yeah, I know. You’re a freak.”

“And you’re not? Mister ‘I can smell your arousal and it gets me going’.” You poked the centre of his chest and he flicked your forehead in retaliation. 

“You up for it?” 

“I get to spend the day away from the kids and visit a super scenic lake with my second favourite mutant in the mansion? Followed by an evening of drinking in a bar? You might as well have asked me to marry you here and now.” 

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, we’re n– wait second favourite?”

You nodded, looking at him like the answer was obvious. “Well yeah, Kitty bought me my favourite mug so she reserves favourite person rights.” 

“S’that how it works?”

“Bit slow on the uptake aren’t ya?” Logan pushed you off him, careful not to shove you too hard so you spilt any more coffee on yourself.

“I take it back. We’re gonna spend the day here.” You gasped dramatically, setting your drained mug to the side before trying to cosy back up to him, only for his arm to hold you at bay.

“I lied, I lied! You’re incredibly smart and quick and my favourite person I’ve ever met ever!” You exclaimed through fits of laughter as you tried to fight through the wall of sinewy muscle. 

“Didn’t hear ya. Come again?” He held you off with one hand, the other effortlessly raising his mug of coffee to his lips. It was a testament to his strength how he could keep you back with just one arm.

Maybe metal cable ties weren’t strong enough after all…

You conceded, flopping down onto the pillows next to you, bubbles of laughter still popping from your chest. “When do you wanna leave? What time is it actually?” you asked, taking him by the wrist only to see he wasn’t wearing his watch. Must have taken it off to shower.

“Lemme check, hold on.” Logan leaned down off the bed where the poor alarm clock still lay completely abandoned, retrieving your lamp at the same time and setting them both on the nightstand. “Just gone nine. Leave in an hour? I think it’s roughly three hours by car, but Scott’s bike shaves off at least half an hour so…” He shrugged with a cheeky grin, and you laughed at the mischief in his eyes.

“Gives us around six hours to ourselves, minus the journey. Sounds perfect to me.” Being unable to withstand a lack of physical contact with you for any longer than three minutes, Logan lifted his arm for you again, and you returned to the home you’d built next to his heart.

“We should get out more…” he lamented softly, his hand holding your shoulder, thumb stroking your soft skin beneath the short sleeve of your t-shirt. 

“If we had the time, that would be great.” You sighed, feeling his slight despondency. If only your circumstances had been different, and you were just a normal couple that could do normal couples things. But now, you had to teach younger mutants how not to accidentally kill the wrong people, and how to effectively kill the right people. Not only that, but you had to train to ensure you didn’t accidentally kill yourself in the process.

Fuck’s sake.

A fist knocked at the door three times, and you braced for Kitty to simply let herself in. But the longer the silence after lingered, the surer you became that, whoever was on the other side of the door, wasn’t Kitty.

“Come in!” You called, not making any efforts to obscure either yourself of Logan. The whole mansion knew by now, it wasn’t like you were trying to keep it a secret. The door opened to reveal Ororo, her white hair neatly tied back from her face. 

“Morning! Just wanted to– oh. Hey Logan…” she eyed the two of you suspiciously and you shared a glance with him. The fact he was only dressed in a towel and you in a loose tee and boxer briefs didn’t exactly help your case of innocence. “Right… anyway, I guess this saves me two trips. Xavier has a conference in Connecticut, Jean’s going with him. They’re giving a talk on starting up a new school for both mutants and humans to start coexisting, so you’re both on babysitting duty.”

Your heart sank. “What the hell are you and Scott doing?!” You asked accusingly, sitting up from Logan’s chest. Storm’s brows pinched like she seemed genuinely remorseful this was how things had to be.

“Tying up some loose ends for Kurt and Hank before picking them up. They’ve been away for a while now, but they’re back today. That and Scott has some errands to run, so we’ll be back late.” She explained sheepishly, and you groaned in frustration. The one day off you thought you could have and you’ve been stuck with babysitting.

The gods really like shitting in your dinner, don’t they?

“Alright… but you owe us.” Logan piped up, and you whipped your head to him in exasperation. He read your face instantly. ‘Are we really going to do this?’

‘Like we have a choice.’ he silently communicated back, and he knew you’d understood what he’d said when you sighed heavily, dragging a hand down the side of your face.

“Fucking fine, but Logan’s right, you owe us. And I was wondering where those two had got to, how long’ve they been away?”

Ororo loosened a breath of relief. “Thank you. And next Saturday? All your’s, I promise. As for Kurt and Hank, around a year or so? Xavier sent him off on a private mission not even we knew about until a couple months ago, just before you came back. We’re going to pick them up just to make sure they get here safely.” She didn’t seem too confident about wherever Nightcrawler and Beast had been.

“That dangerous, huh?” As if the mere mention of a dangerous mission set him on edge, Logan’s arm wrapped back around your shoulders protectively. Neither of you had been required for one since your return, and he was honestly dreading the day. 

“Kurt’ll explain more when he gets back I’m sure, but yeah, that dangerous. Hank doesn’t like to go on missions like these, but apparently, Charles needed his diplomatic expertise and Kurt’s quick getaways, so who knows?” Ororo shrugged, before looking pointedly at Logan’s bare chest and then your bare legs. “Do I even wanna know what you guys were up to before I knocked…?”

You laughed, waving off her concerns. “Having a coffee and chatting about the day we did have planned before being landed with babysitting duty, nothing exciting don’t you worry.”

“Unless you wanna talk about the shower…” You shot Logan a scandalised look, mouth and eyes wide in utter shock.

“Ew, no, I’m good, see you later.” Ororo shielded her eyes as she left as if she could unsee the mental image Logan had just planted there. As soon as the door shut you smacked his arm with the back of your hand.

“What was that for?”

“Did it look like she was gonna leave anytime soon to you?” You took a moment to think about it, and Logan’s expression shifted to self-satisfaction. “Exactly.”

Well, you couldn’t argue with that. You offered him a little, defeated smile. “Guess our day off will have to wait.”

He leaned forward, tucking you into his side before relaxing back against the headboard. “I’ll take you out soon, ‘kay? Promise.”

“Like, on a date or w–” You couldn’t even finish the sentence before he clapped his hand over your mouth, stopping you midway through.

“Enough. It wasn’t funny the first time, why did you think it would be funny again?” 

You stuck your tongue out to lick his palm, a foolproof method of removing someone’s hand from your mouth. Or, at least it had been foolproof in the past. But you raised your eyes to his face, and he looked at you with disinterest. “Not gonna work, firefly.” 

You adored that nickname. He never explained where it came from or why he started it, but it didn’t matter to you. As long as he never stopped. 

Thick black boots pounded the floorboards as you raced through the hallways of the mansion, vibrations humming up your legs with every step, your breath like fire in your lungs. Shouts and screams echoed in every corner, flashes of torchlight illuminating cones of white against the walls like searchlights. The Professor was away. Why was the Professor always fucking away?

Sliding to a halt as you heard footsteps around the corner, you quickly slipped into the shadows, hushed voices muffled as if underwater as you jumped to the ceiling. Light separated the shadows, and four silhouetted figures walked cautiously beneath you. You could make out the outlines of their guns as the torch shifted before the hallway was again drenched in darkness as they continued their search.

Morphing to the floor, you reformed from the black, stealing a quick glance behind you to where they’d disappeared. There were no students that way, Logan and Scott had made sure of that. The moment Logan had sensed something was off, the evacuation had begun, escorting the students silently from their beds and through the hidden channel behind the panel wall. You knew there were stragglers, but you focused on the knowledge Ororo and Kurt were with them.

How had things gotten so out of hand so goddamn fast? You’d woken up on Logan’s chest this morning feeling like a whole new mutant, comfort wrapped around your heart like an embrace. Now, the opposite couldn’t be more true. You cursed the fact that Jean followed Xavier around like a lost soul. You could really use her help right about now. 

A piercing, shooting pain rushed through your head as you clamped your hands down over your ears, crouching to the floor. Your eardrums throbbed as you recognised that ability, gut knotting at the realisation that Theresa was still inside somewhere, her sonic scream sending waves of agony through your mind before it stopped abruptly. Fuck.

With a new sense of urgency, you sprinted through the entrance hall, taking the stairs two at a time. If you’d been a little more focused on your surroundings and less hellbent on saving the girl, perhaps you would have noticed the line of guns pointed in your direction. One moment you were racing full speed down the first-floor hallway, the next you’d frozen solid as torches flared simultaneously, erasing any easily accessible shadow. You braced, knowing after they “killed” you, they’d turn away and leave you to sink into the darkness and reform. 

But they held fire, your strained pants the only sound in the eerie silence of the bedroom corridor. 

“They were right…” you whipped your head back to the voice behind you, knees bent in anticipation as two figures stepped from the room you knew to be Jubilee’s, and you prayed to whatever sick, twisted gods above that Logan or Scott had got to her first. The torches behind you revealed a man you thought to be in his thirties, a pair of thick, round glasses perched on the end of his crooked nose. He was taller than whoever was next to him and unnaturally thin. “We missed you dearly.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Come again?” You spat, eyes darting between the two.

The man just laughed heartily, opening his arms as if offering you a hug. “Of course, how could I be so rude? I’ve read the reports… Subject Five, if you could be so kind.”

Panic surged through your body as Subject Five stepped forward, a golden glow emanating from beneath its clothes. Your eyes closed instinctively as the hallway lit up as though the sun had risen, your hands flying to shield your face. 

“That’s a bit better. You look good, Eight, but you always were the resilient one.” You were barely listening, still caught up in the dawning revelation that you knew that mutation. You’d know that mutation anywhere. “We’re here to take you home. Subject One isn’t here, sadly, so I’m afraid you’re just going to have to take my word for it, but we really have missed you.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” you managed to grit, your eyes adjusting to the light as you cracked them open a little.

“I have to say, when I received word you were a teacher now, it almost made me laugh. You hated kids! Why on earth would you surround yourself with them? But then it dawned on me. A mutant school. If only my great-grandfather had thought of that at the start.” He continued as if you were engaging in nothing but a pleasant conversation in the park.

“Ya know, for someone who talks so much, you really are saying very little.” you quipped, finding a nugget of solace in the fact that this man didn’t want you dead, at least as far as you could tell. “Let’s start with introductions, yeah?”

He chuckled again. “You’re absolutely right. My name is Doctor Kreva. This man here, why you should already know him, even without Subject One to help out.” he was almost condescending in his tone, and you hated the fact he was right. You did know the mutant. And your heart bled for him. What the fuck was he doing here? Why was he raiding the school with this chucklefuck?

“Means nothing to me. The fuck do you want?” you snarled, to his further amusement.

“Were you not listening, darling? We want to take you home. My father was so stupid for letting you go,” it was the first emotion you’d seen on his face beyond sadistic joy. His eyes filled with frustrated hatred. “He never had the stomach for science. And after Seven somehow managed to kill my mother, a problem you so kindly took care of, he started to pity you all.” He spat like the word was venomous before he took a breath of collection. “Seven years it’s taken to track you all down and rebuild what he destroyed. Seven long years. But we’re nearly there. All we’re waiting for is you.”

Your breath got stuck in your throat. Seven years ago, you and Jade were picked up by Jean and Ororo on the side of that highway. How could he possibly know any of this? “You got the wrong gal, sorry bub.” Oh, you’d been spending way too much time with Logan. Dr. Kreva sighed, holding out his hand expectantly. Like a king’s attendance, one of the guards stepped up from behind you, making sure to keep his shadow far from your reach, before he slung a heavy pack from his shoulder, dropping it into Kreva’s waiting hand. 

The doctor took a knee, removing one of the thickest folder’s you think you’d ever seen, and holding it up. It was old. Incredibly old. Whatever colour it had been originally had faded to a pale grey, the edges frayed and splitting. He placed it on the floor face up, and your eyes caught sight of a label, though it was too far away for you to read accurately. 

“Everything you think you know is a lie, Phantom. Didn’t you think it strange your memories are jumbled? Important moments of your life scrambled or forgotten. Loose ends never tied, arguments never resolved? But this, this holds everything. Your entire life, in one folder. All eighty-two years you were with us.”

You scrunched your face, slightly offended. “I’m thirty-two, asshole.” You spat back, your skin starting to burn under such intense lighting, those threads in your body begging to be released into the shadows to escape. 

“So that’s the age he decided before releasing you. Interesting. Well, I’ll have Subject One rectify that when you’re back with us. Tranq her. Now. Subject Three, begin evacuation.” Before you could even turn around to defend yourself, a sharp pain spiked the side of your neck. You froze, blood draining from your face as you realised you’d been pierced with a needle. Heartbeat rising, you fought the urge to throw up. You didn’t know where your fear stemmed from, but you assumed it was when you were taken for blood tests as a child.

If… if that even happened. Because if you were to believe anything this dickwad said, maybe you didn’t even have a childhood. 

Your vision started to swim, and you angrily blinked the grogginess away. “Rowan… wh– what’re y– what’re you doing…?” You could barely finish the sentence as the tranquiliser entered your bloodstream, taking quick effect on your mind as you struggled to stay upright, your knees buckling as you threw your arms out to catch yourself. Shadows. You needed a shadow. But there was nothing to morph into. Nothing you could reach to rid yourself of this feeling. Everything became muffled, as if you were underwater, only barely able to hear a gut-wrenching roar before your vision went dark, and you were out cold. 

Logan raced up the stairs, fury pumping through his blood. He’d been looking everywhere for you, crashing through doorways and slicing through skin and muscle to find you. Hank had mentioned he’d seen you sprinting toward Theresa’s room after she’d screamed, and he didn’t wait to hear the rest of what he’d said before he took off at a run. He crested the first flight just in time to see three figures halfway down the lit hallway, obscuring your unconscious body. He didn’t even take a minute to acknowledge the light was emanating from the figure on the right, rather than the lights themselves. The man in the centre turned just as Logan bellowed a cry of pure, unadulterated rage, offering him a curious tilt of his head before the one one the left took hold of each other their shoulders, and they disappeared before his eyes.

He didn’t care. They were gone and you remained. That was all that mattered. Racing to your side, he saw the cause of your condition, pulling the tranquiliser out from your neck and cautiously lifting you into his lap, checking your pulse just to be sure. 

You were alive. Your heart was still beating. He almost shook with relief. 

“It’s okay, I got you firefly, I got you.” He soothed, brushing your hair back and cradling you against his chest. “You’re safe now. You’re okay.”

“Logan?” He turned his head back down the hallway, heightened sight able to make out Kurt and Scott by the stairs, Kurt wringing his hands with worry. “Is she–”

“She’s fine, just out cold. Theresa’s still in her room if you wanna make sure she’d okay.” He gestured to the room a few doors down, and Kurt jogged passed him, pausing as he saw the file on the ground. 

His eyes widened slightly, gaze flickering from the file name to your unconscious form, then back again, before looking at Logan. Crouching down, he flipped the folder so it was facing him, before continuing to Theresa’s room.

Logan froze as he read the scrawled, ink-smudged handwriting on the front of the file, his blood turning to ice in his veins. 

NLMO. Subject Eight. “Phantom”.

Logan paced as he waited outside the med-bay, chewing at the cuticles of his thumb. Scott, Jean and Charles were having a heated debate in the room to his right, he could hear raised voices even with the doors closed. Ororo and Kurt had chosen to wait with him, Kurt crouched against the wall opposite and Ororo fixed her hair every two minutes. A nervous twitch, he noticed.

Since Jean was currently held up in the furious discussion, Hank had offered to perform the routine checkups on all the mutants they’d managed to tranquilise, yourself included. It had been four hours since the attack, and he still hadn’t shown his blue furry face. Then again, there were quite a few students who’d been targeted, not just you. 

The meeting to his right went quiet before the doors slid open and Scott stormed out, a face like thunder. Logan couldn’t blame him, he had his own anger on a tight leash, simmering just below the surface. What the fuck was going on? Who the hell were you? Did Charles know about this? Did Jean? Was that why she’d been so strange lately after the training incident? The idea of the two of them knowing and not telling anyone made him want to tear apart the whole fucking mansion, and it seemed Scott was on the same wavelength as him for once. 

“Scott wait!” Jean called after him, running after the furious man, but not before casting Logan a cautious glance. He just glared at her in response, before she hurried to catch up with Scott.

“You should have told me, Jean. I’m supposed to lead this goddamn team, how can I do that without knowing who I’m dealing with. No wonder she can’t control her fucking mutation, and I’ve been made to look like a monster for wanting the situation sorted when you knew about this the whole time!” He heard Scott rage, and it was the first time he’d actually heard him raise his voice to her. It would have almost been refreshing if he hadn’t just answered one of Logan’s most burning questions. 

She did know about it. Oh, he was going to have a little chat with her later about that. 

There was a beat before Charles wheeled from the room, his face a grim picture. He loosened a breath upon seeing the three of them still waiting, his eyes lingering on Logan, the file held in his lap. Logan grit his teeth.

“Did you know?” Was all he asked, and Charles said nothing, moving his gaze to the med-bay doors. That just pissed him off further. “Did. You. Know?” he spat every word like venom, balling his fists in an attempt to keep his anger in check. 

“Yes,” Charles replied softly, as if speaking any louder would set him off. But Logan didn’t need him to raise his voice. That was all he needed to hear for his trust in the Professor to shatter completely. “Some memories are better off forgotten, Logan. You of all people know that.”

“Not her entire life!” He clamoured, causing both Ororo and Kurt to jump a little in surprise. He took a deep breath. It wasn’t their fault. They were as in the dark as the rest of the team. Except, it seemed, team telekinesis. “What’s in that folder, Charles? And tell me honestly. No more bullshit.” He seethed, though, to his subconscious surprise, Xavier held the file out to him. 

“That’s for you to find out. If you wish. But I’ll warn you, Logan. Nothing in that file is good. Nothing is happy. Everything that’s happened to her in the last eighty years or so.” He explained sombrely, and Logan didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or scream. Eighty years? How was that possible? You were thirty-two. You’d said so yourself. None of this made any goddamn sense. How could you just forget the fact you’d lived at least eighty years of your life? As if Charles had read his mind, which he most likely had, he spoke up again. “A powerful mutant with a focus on memory altering known as Subject One, or Obscurity. From what I could gather, he could alter and re-alter memories, planting ones that never existed and pushing those that deep to the farthest reaches of their minds. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best they had at the time.”

The best they had? The best they had? Logan wanted to punch something. Or someone. Preferably someone bald and in a wheelchair. But he refrained himself when the doors behind him whooshed open, and Hank stepped through. 

“All stable. Took a little longer than I thought it would. I think Jones will be out for another few hours, maybe a day or so. The poor little guy barely sleeps as it is, so a tranq knocked him for six.” Hank explained before sensing the tension in the room. Logan said nothing, almost knocking Beast to the ground as he breezed past him, uncaring as he was once again greeted by yet another sight of you lying unconscious on a metal table.

This was becoming a bad habit of yours.

“She should wake within the hour. The tranqs weren’t too strong, only designed for short knockouts rather than extended periods of unconscious.” Logan was barely listening, his heart clenching as you slept peacefully, hooked up to another fucking machine. How many of these have you been hooked up to in your life? How many other machines have you been monitored on? Was that how you received the scars? Or had that part of your story been true? Did you know anything about this? Or had you been lying to him the whole fucking time?

He had too many questions for you, but he knew how he could answer them. He extended a hand behind him. “Hand me the file.”

“Logan, you should–”

“Hand me the fucking file.” His arm shook impatiently, and there was a beat before Ororo took the folder from Charles and placed it in his waiting hand. Christ, it was hefty. Though, he supposed there was eighty years worth of information within its pages. Storm hovered next to him, sparing him a worried glance as he opened the first page. 

Well, any hope that it was another Phantom was quickly dashed as the faded type described you perfectly. From the texture of your hair and the colour of your eyes to the size of your feet and the length of your legs. His heart caught in his throat as he flipped a few pages, hearing Ororo’s gasp of horror next to him.

4th September. 1932 Ex.3 – 12 pm - 9 am. Deprivation / Indulgence Subject 8. “Phantom” / Subject 5. “Solaris” Observer: Doctor R. Kreva.

Removed all objects from Sub.8’s and Sub.5’s observation chambers, and installed flood lighting on all surfaces. Sustain peak lighting in both chambers for 24 hours and record findings. Since 8 and 5 have similar DNA, they have both been selected for this experiment. Their mutations, whilst similar, are opposites. Two sides of the same coin. Will repeat experiment with darkness at a later date. 

Hour 1 – No change in any subjects. Sub.5 seems extremely content with the change of atmosphere, it’s skin emits some kind of glow similar in colour and frequency to the light around. 

Hour 2 – Still no notable changes. Sub.8 raised its head to look around the chamber, perhaps seeking refuge from the light. Only movement in the last two hours.

Hour 5 – Sub.8’s behaviour has become noticeably erratic, its eyes flickering all around the room, has yet to make a move. Sub.5 has remarkably begun creating its own lights, I have included a sketch of my findings below.

Hour 8 – Due to the lack of shadows, Sub.8’s movements have become peculiar. At times, fast and frantic, searching the room for refuge, whereas other times it would be slow and sluggish, barely able to lifts its head to look around. 

Hour 10 – Much the same as Sub.8 in the dark, Sub.5 had disappeared completely. We can only assume, due to the similarity in their DNA, that Sub.5’s body has disintegrated into the light. Sub.8’s vitals are spiking and dipping seemingly randomly. Its body lags when it moves, almost glitching into shadow with every movement. Is this the molecules trying to release?

Hour 17 – Sub.5 has returned, its hair is now elevated above its head and its eyes no longer resemble that of a human’s. Where there should be an iris and pupil, there is now nothing but smouldering light. Sub.8 has begun writhing, parts of its body disintegrating and reforming where it lies. Is it in pain? 

Hour 19 – Sub.8 has started to scream. It’s interesting. With every breath, its entire body shudders as if trying to phase through the fabric of light itself, like Sub.5 can do. Its fingers bleed from frantically clawing at the ground and blood is leaking from its nose. Will need a cleaning crew in hereafter. In contrast, Sub.5 Is now levitating approx. 5 inches from the ground. 

Hour 20 – Sub.8’s condition has rapidly declined in the last hour, its skin seems to have veins of black spiderwebbing across its face, hands and feet. Must make notes to strip both subjects next experiment, but for now I must assume this continues across its body. 

Hour 21 – Sub.8 has ceased all activity and now lies motionless. Vitals have dropped well below human sustainability, heart rate of 20 BPM, and blood pressure of 90/60 mmHg. How is it still alive? Sub.5 has begun wielding the light from its body. It seems as surprised by this as I am. It has been able to form duplicates of itself, objects, and what could be interpreted as a pair of wings. Could Sub.8 be capable of such things?

End of Hour 21 – Leaving the lights on for 24 hours would most likely be the death of Sub.8. With the slow decrease of light intensity, Sub.5 settled back to the floor, its eyes dimming before returning to what we shall now call the default state. Sub.8 remained motionless for another 2 minutes and 42 seconds before their body disintegrated. Interestingly, it couldn’t disappear before the lights were off completely. Saved footage of Sub.8’s disappearance, the infra-red camera pinpointing the moment its body broke apart. Fascinating. Placed them both back into the observation house, and monitored them for the next few days. Sub.5 is already up and around, behaving regularly. Sub.8 still rests in bed. How will this affect its interactions with other subjects?

Ex. Duration: 21 HOURS Ex. Outcome: Success Findings: See above. Memory erased: Last 21 hours Replacement memory: Cooking lesson, NLMO bonding Comments: Must remember to use the same memory for Subjects 2,3,4,6 and 7

Logan felt sick, bile rising in his throat as he blew out a shaky breath, checking the date three times to ensure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Ororo whimpered a small sob next to him, her eyes scanning the page, her hand covering her mouth in utter devastation. Kurt looked between the two of them, not knowing if he wanted to be involved in whatever horrors lay within that folder. 

He couldn’t stop reading, some pages had notes about the life they made you believe you were living, a simulation world with the other seven, not dissimilar to the danger room. Only, every time you ‘went out on an errand’, or ‘went to work’, it was just a replacement memory for when they pulled you out for experimentations. Those were the pages that had shattered his very soul. What they did to you… How could they have been getting away with this for so long?

He continued flicking through, thumbing stacks of pages at a time before he settled on a less faded sheet, dated much more recently. He only read the first line before Ororo looked away, her head in her hands, Kurt bamfing next to her to hold her as she sobbed.

22nd September. 2008 Ex.1,243 6 pm-6:50 pm Pain Tolerance / Resilience Subject 8. “Phantom” Observer: Dr. J. Kreva

It has been noted that Sub.8’s tolerance for pain is exceptionally high. It can easily disappear with surface-level wounds and reappear as good as new. I want to test its durability to its limits and discover how deep we can wound it before we start leaving scars. In order to accomplish this without endangering Sub.8’s life, it will be stripped of clothing and strapped to the operating table and I have given us ten-minute windows. Using the same light-flooded room as Ex.3, a team will be entering the room with various appliances, following the strict instructions of careful harming, before leaving for the lights to be shut off. Sub.8 has been known to fight back, unlike its counterpart Sub.5, and we have lost good people to its unpredictability. So we will be using Sub.5 as a bargaining chip. It has been noted these two have some kind of relationship similar to that we would typically see in siblings. If Sub.8 refuses to cooperate, the team has permission to harm Sub.5 to whatever they deem necessary.

Each ten-minute window will be referred to as a cycle, due to the nature of the lighting we are implementing here. 

Under no circumstances should either Subject be killed.

Cycle 1 – Team TS8 managed to coerce Sub.8 onto the table, strapping it down with efficiency. It has yet to fight back, but it has noticed Sub.5 in the corner. It likely knows the terms already. A small cut has been made on its left arm, with no visible response from Sub.8, however, Sub.5 flinched. Interesting. Team TS8 left the room, lights still on. Nothing to note, Sub.8 disappeared and reappeared with the lightning, with no sign of the small cut. Though it is no longer strapped to the table. I am glad we brought along Sub.5. After seeing its capabilities in the mirrored experiment of Ex.3 (please see Ex.4), Sub.5 will be an excellent bargaining chip to ensure those abilities are not put to use.

Cycle 2 – Team TS8 has already threatened to harm Sub.5 to get Sub.8 to cooperate. Nothing physical yet, only threats. It understood and climbed onto the table itself, allowing itself to be strapped down again. It has said nothing in these moments, simply stared. Due to our already collected knowledge and the two-hour time limit on this experiment, I have had to jump a few levels of pain. I have provided Team TS8 with a conical flask of concentrated hydrochloric acid. It seems the jump was necessary, Sub.8 reacted with subdued screams and desperate tugging on restraints. With the skin tissue of its right calf burned away, I can see its muscular system is almost identical to our own, tendons working in the same way. Though this is no groundbreaking discovery, it is still important to note. Team TS8 left the room along with Sub.5, who seemed reluctant. Sub.8’s breathing is erratic, and it claws at the table in a similar way it did during Ex.3. Does this have any practical benefit or is this simply to ease the pain? It disappears once again along with the lights, a burn scar remains on its leg when it returns.

Cycle 3 – Sub.5 had to be harmed. I didn’t want it to come to this, but Sub.8 wasn’t cooperating as well as I hoped it would. We removed Sub.8 and Team TS8 from the room and turned out the lights. Sub.8 thrashed against restraints as it watched Sub.5 be beaten from behind the door. It agreed to continue swiftly after. Sub.5’s wounds healed as the lights returned. Their bond is a fascinating one, and one I would like to explore further. Sub.8’s Trypanophobia has been noted in its records, having an extreme reaction to the sight of needles. I have provided Team TS8 with various sizes of serrated needles with a diagram of its body. The idea was to see whether Sub.8’s mutation could remove things from its body by disappearing and reforming, or whether obstructions could prevent this. Sub.8 seems panicked by the sight of needles, surely triggering its trypanophobia. Once again it thrashes on the table with each insertion, though it only cried out when pierced in the side of its neck and its inner thigh. Perhaps these are somewhat erogenous zones? Or particularly sensitive places? I will have to make comparisons to Sub.5. Team TS8 left along with Sub.5, who seems to be doing very little to stop the process, though is exhibiting signs of great discomfort. Once again, Sub.8 disappears along with the lights, and interestingly, the needles are left behind on the bed, along with copious amounts of its blood. Not sure the cleanup crew could get those stains out. 

A sob wracked from Storm behind him, though Logan couldn’t find it in himself to tear his eyes away. They exploited your fears and used you to record responses for their sick, twisted gain. He grit his teeth, his jaw threatening to crack as his eyes continue to scan the page. 

Cycle 4 – We have recorded Sub.8’s behaviour on the brink of death in Ex.3, however it was due to lack of shadow. There were no threats necessary to encourage Sub.8 back onto the bed, the needles having been carefully removed. The next stage is incredibly simple. Team TS8 sliced through each radial artery on either side of Sub.8’s wrists. I am not a man easily haunted by much, however I do believe Sub.5’s scream will live in my memory for quite some time. I have made sure to set the cutting of the lights long before Sub.8 has time to bleed out. Sub.5 had to be dragged from the room, however, I can observe Sub.8’s body performing the same motions as it was in Ex.3 around hour 19, however, there is a complete lack of vocal response. Its body keeps attempting to disappear, though it has nothing to dissolve into. It’s fascinating to watch, parts of its limbs shimmering jet black before settling again. It’s like the molecules want to disperse. The lights have dimmed far quicker than the last three times. Sub.8 has not moved from the table. It has not disappeared at all, but it is simply lying in wait. Does it wait to die? Perhaps we underestimated its resolve. I have sent Team TS8 back into the dark room, a knife held against Sub.5’s throat. If it doesn’t dissolve, I have instructed them to make a small incision against Sub.5’s neck. It didn’t need to get that far, Sub.8 saw the consequences and immediately dissolved, though it took far longer for it to return. Perhaps the more severe the wound, the longer it takes to reknit the body back together. Will have to perform further experimentation on this. Two more scars have reformed on either wrist. Interesting. Will need to inspect needle incisions later.

Cycle 5 – It’s dead. I’m certain. Due to the ignorance and fear of man, I have lost one of my most valuable subjects. A terrified guard shot it in the chest several times and burst into the experiment. He didn’t exactly aim for it, but rather for Sub.5. It seems the bond between 5 and 8 ran deeper than even I could comprehend, 8 didn’t think twice about putting itself between the guard, taking several bullets to the chest. Four, to be exact, before he was apprehended. I couldn’t get the lights off fast enough, having to override the system I’d set specifically for this experiment. I wasn’t fast enough, and 8 suffered for it. It’s been here for the last 80 years, and one man ruined everything. Its body is still in the room. I haven’t found the heart to move it yet. Sub.5’s memory of the incident has been erased by Sub.1 once again, and replaced with a severe argument between it and 8, resulting in 8 leaving. I will most likely be dead before I find a subject as valuable for mutant research as Phantom. 

Ex. Duration: 50 MINUTES Ex. Outcome: Failure (subject fatality) Findings: I fear Mutants and Humans can never coexist Memory Erased: Experiment above, Sub.8’s death (for Sub.5 only) Memory Replacement: Severe argument. Comments: A devastating turn of events

Logan swallowed as he reached the bottom of the page. Was that how you escaped? Was that how you got out? They thought you were dead only for you to be able to heal from bullet wounds? Did you slip through the shadows? It took him a moment to think it over. No, that wasn't possible. The dates didn't add up. He turned the page over, seeing further notes scrawled on the back in pen rather than type.

22nd September, Ex.1,243 – Continuation. 1932, 11:42 pm.

The body has disappeared. I have kept the lights off since the incident at 6:50 and made the mistake of closing my eyes for a few minutes. When I opened them again, Sub.8 had disappeared. I sealed the doors immediately, hoping this meant it had somehow found the strength to dissolve back into shadow. Looking into the infrared camera, I have noticed the projectiles of bullets scattered where Sub.8 had fallen. Does this mean it’s recovering? Is it possible for it to recover from four bullet wounds to the centre of its chest? 

12:08 am

Sub.8 has returned. Remarkable. Though there are clear scars on its chest and wrists, it seems to have almost completely healed from the incident. This is a staggering discovery. Will need to alter Sub.5’s memory once again.

Logan dropped the file, pages still spread apart as he took a step back. This couldn’t be real. None of this could be real. What you’d endured, what you’d suffered. The scars that remained. You were right, what you’d said this morning. Mental scars leave the same marks as physical ones. Your body had altered to the memories they’d forced into your mind. They couldn’t remove the scars, so they made you think you’d attempted to take your own life. Made you think you remembered getting into fights as a kid. He knew what mutant experimentation was like. He’d had a firsthand experience. But this was on a whole other level. What the fuck was this all for? 

Now Charles’ words made sense. Some memories were left forgotten. He glanced back to the Professor, who nodded grimly as if to confirm all he’d seen. “My first act as headmaster of this school is to tap into the minds and memories of its students and teachers. Logan, trust me when I say, some things are better left in the past.”

He didn’t know what was right or wrong. Keeping this from you felt wrong but at the same time, you were happy with what you had. Was it already too late? Was that glasses-wearing motherfucker Dr. J. Kreva? How much had he told you? How much did you know?

“They were looking for her, weren’t they?” It was the first phrase he’d spoken since reading the file, pieces of your puzzle clicking into place. Charles simply nodded again. 

“It’s not safe for her to be here anymore. For the students and her. They know where to find her now.”

“Then what to we do?” Ororo asked through heavy sniffles, teary eyes looking between you and the Professor. 

“We take her off grid,” Hank said, setting down his glasses. He’d picked them up to read whatever was in that folder but quickly decided against it after seeing Storm’s reaction.

“But we can’t do that without good reason?” Kurt chimed in, casting worried glances around the room.

“Two years ago, I received signals from an environmental research facility we all believed to have been destroyed in a freak accident seven years prior. I sent Jean and Storm to assess the situation after the explosion, and that’s–”

“That’s where we found her and Jade… Oh my God, that was the site?” Ororo finished, her voice dripping with dread. “But… how did they escape? What happened?”

Charles sighed with resignation. “We don’t know. It would take searching her locked memories and risk pulling them to the surface to answer that question, and that wasn’t a gamble I was going to bet on, not after what I’d glimpsed in the past.”

Logan could barely hear any of this. His ears were ringing, white noise clouding his senses as he just stared at you. Your whole life had been a lie. A jumble of nonsense knitted into your memories by another mutant, reality locked away within the darkest depths of your head. He didn’t know what to do. His urge to protect you from this new threat fought with the urge to protect you from your own past. 

“The decision should be hers.” He interrupted the ongoing conversation, moving to take your hand and press a kiss to the scar on your wrist. “Whether she remembers or not. Explain to her what you said to me, and let her decide.” It was the only course of action he could see. The room fell into silence, all contemplating the suggestion before Charles moved forward to the file on the ground, picking it up and closing it. 

“Wherever you take her, wherever you hide her, take this with you. You can’t tell me where you’re going, and I won’t search for you. The less people who know, the better.” He instructed, and Logan nodded, setting the folder to the side. “When she wakes up, we’ll–”

“When she wakes up, you’ll what?” 

The room had been too caught up in their conversations to notice you stirring from your tranquiliser-induced nap. “You know, I seem to spend a concerning amount of my time unconscious these days.” You sat up slowly, the heel of your palm braced against your forehead as if to help the slight pounding at your temples. 

Logan was at your side in a single stride, his hands cupping the sides of your face delicately, as if holding you any tighter would cause you to break. Your relieved smile when you saw him broke his heart. “Hey Lo’.” 

Though that smile faded as he didn’t return it, his eyes brimming with an emotion your groggy head couldn’t quite place.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He responded, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, and it was as if that was all you needed for your headache to fade. You held one of his palms against your cheek, leaning into his touch.

“How long was I out?”

“Around four hours or so. You feelin’ okay?” Concern. That was the emotion you couldn’t pinpoint a moment ago. Concern and… heartbreak?

“Yeah… ‘m fine. Who died?” You asked, trepidation lacing your tone as you stole glances at the others in the room. Ororo had tears in her eyes, Kurt’s arm still wrapped around her shoulders in comfort. Hank looked more bleak than you’d ever seen him, his hands clasped together as if in mourning. You continued scanning the room, Charles offering you a look of sympathy before your eyes landed on the folder Logan had set down. It was like a trigger had been fired in your brain, hazy memories of before you fell unconscious rushing back to you in one big hurricane.

“Oh.” Was all you could say, and Logan wrapped his arms around your head in response, smoothing gently touches against your hair as you basked in the comfort of his embrace.

“How much do you know?”

[argetcross]

Happy 4th anniversary to wasting beats of this heart of mine, my Zagreus becomes mortal AU! Another year, some more adventures undertaken.

This year, I've unearthed more concepts and half-finished paintings all the way from 2021. I've included notes under the cut about each piece, as well as more reflections.

If you told me in October 2020 that you'll write a fic over 100k words long, spanning multiple cities, with multiple POVs, I would have said, "Are you sure?". I think I never really imagined I could keep a story running, much less one that demands so much of its author. At the same time, this work has been my deepest and most fulfilling pleasure. It lives in my dreams, haunts my waking moments, and demands I regularly carve my heart out and poke through the viscera. I suppose such is the nature of art.

We've been approaching the end of Part III, and readers up-to-date know I've mentioned planning for five parts in total. Five acts, five biomes: it only feels fitting. Many things I had looked forward to (the chariot race! Kyane and Persephone! The return of Thymoetes!) have come to life on the page, but there's still so much of the yarn left to spin. I never expected needing years to complete this story, but I also feel strongly I am beholden to it now. To Zagreus, to Demeter's children, to the mortals and gods, above and below. I will continue to try my best.

Thank you to jules, val, nan, robin, and spleen for having beta'd for me during these years. This story wouldn't be what it is without you. Thank you to mag, for having crawled through the trenches of creating an enormous fanwork and countless hours of spreadsheeting, with me. To every artist that has ever drawn me anything, it is truly humbling to be able to inspire your work. To the House Party, whose friendship I am grateful for every day.

And to anyone who has ever read part of the story, left a comment, and stepped along on this journey with me, I cannot overstate how grateful I am. I remain baffled and pleasantly surprised that this world of mine can touch your heart. It's a story that I hope, when it completes, you will pick up again from time to time, and take pleasure in its telling once more.

With all my love,

Arget

--

Notes about each image:

Thanatos and Zagreus by the sacred olive trees of Athena. This painting was based on a photo I took in Athens. The quality of the sunlight astounded me and, in turn, made me think about life and death.

Thanatos anointing the body of the god Zagreus with nectar. This is related to the scene in Chapter 23, when he and Nyx converse by Zagreus' bedside.

Eleusis concepts. For such a powerhouse of a cult, Eleusis itself has a provincial feeling to it. I was captivated by the idea of the sea, and the fact that Zagreus had never spent any time on the coast. This would have been his first experience with it.

Athens. What can I say about Athens that hasn't been said? The trip I took late 2022 provided a lot of the inspiration for the citadel aspect of the acropolis. This is not the Athens of Classical Greece, the polis of democracy, but a fictionalized city-kingdom, under the rule of its royal family. The idea that Callisto had a student living in Athens was both a nod to the extensive trade happening during the Bronze Age and a deconstruction of the Amazon myth that the Greeks told themselves.

Clymene, the Oracle of Delphi. This was originally meant to be a Hades game-like portrait, but I scrapped the idea. She is dressed in the fashion closer to the Minoans, to give her a more Bronze Age feeling. As the head priestess, I wanted to show her age.

Apheidas and Thymoetes sketches. The two brothers are supposed to look night and day from each other. I tried to give Apheidas a pleasant sort of face, in comparison to Thymoetes' haughtiness.

The tapestry sketch. This was one of the first drawings I ever made about wasting beats, in an attempt to understand the type of story I was about to write. Key elements had already been decided, such as the chariot race and the way Demeter and Hades would play the role of the absent gods, for above as well as below. I had not written Apollo at this time, so you see him here with short hair.

Zagreus, reaching for a bloodstone. The chlamys, a gift from his foster-father's wife, has been the simple denotation of mortal Zagreus. Something bright and red, simple for it was woven by a farmer's wife, and barely able to protect his weaker mortal body.

Megaera, hurt and angry, and Than, stricken and alarmed, amidst a storm of paper. This is a scene from Chapter 18, Primordial Winter, that I had always wanted to illustrate.

[mermaidsirennikita]

I gotta say this is also very unsuprising casting when you think about it. Like as soon as the shock had worn off I was like...yeah of course she cast them.

Oh yeah, it does make sense because Emerald isn't about what's good for the project, Emerald is about what makes Emerald happy. Which is why I fundamentally can't get into her creatively.

Because of course, any creative has their aesthetic, their sensibility, their work. And I respect that, as a creative.

But you also have to kill your darlings. And we think of that in the writing sense most often—cut that sentence, that scene, that chapter if it doesn't truly serve the work. Scrap the whole thing and start over if it's truly not what it should be.

I'm a STRONG believer in that, to be fair. Brutal. Maybe too much so? Lol. Or I'd have a book out by now.

But anyway, it applies to every type of creative work, imo. You don't cast someone because YOU like them, particularly in an adaptation of a work as iconic as Wuthering Heights. You cast them because they are right for the role.

Heathcliff and Cathy, especially Heathcliff, are two of the most groundbreaking and influential characters in literature of the past 3 centuries. Heathcliff's lack of proximity (for his era) to whiteness is particularly central to the role, and I don't know anyone who seriously takes this work apart and isn't like... actively racist... who interprets Heathcliff as white. It's so crucial to his character that he is "other" in his society.

It's just TRULY a shame to me that she not only cast someone as subpar as Elordi, but someone so, so white. Like, I wouldn't want a white actor I love to play Heathcliff. And this is a fabulous role for a man of color, too.

The last adaptation did cast a man of color, but it was frankly not a very high profile project and not well done.

(I also think it would be compelling to cast a man of Roma descent OR a man of Asian, specifically South Asian descent because the text literally uses a contemporary term for Indian men to describe him... Though Nelly also speculates that he has Chinese heritage, and there are definitely some implications that he could be descended from presumably African enslaved people. The latter I could definitely see being an interpretation when you factor in the speculation that he's Mr. Earnshaw's illegitimate child. I think there's always this idea that "catch-all" terms were probably being used to describe Heathcliff's appearance, but I've thought for a while that I would personally most love to see a Roma actor or a South Asian actor play him.

But like. Literally any other than a white guy.)

This will be much more high profile, with way more attention, and it just really sucks that Emerald decided to use it to push one of her faves. It tells me that she has very little respect for the text. On what planet would anyone, even in the 1800s, look at Jacob Elordi and think that he was anything other than a white guy.

And again, I think Margot is way too old to play Cathy, and honestly doesn't read in any way as Cathy to me. I say that as someone who, again, considers her a very strong actress when she's in her element. I just. Ugh.

[prefer-to-be-vilified]

Hi! What are your favorite Wenclair fics?👀

I’m so glad you asked and I’m about to be so extra.

This fandom is beyond talented and I have many favourites. So I might as well make this an official Prefer-to-be-vilified Wenclair Fic Rec Masterlist… post (name could use some work but you get the idea).

I’m going to try to remember/link all my favourites but I’ll probably (definitely) forget some. And also I obviously haven’t read every Wenclair fic out there, my ‘to-read’ list is intimidatingly long and personal preferences are going to play a part in the fics I have included. But if I’ve missed some hidden gems please let me know!

Under the cut because this got long…

One-Shots/Short Chapter Fics:

the Witch & the Wyld by ohHOLYmoves - Long one-shot, Wednesday’s a witch who lives in the woods, Enid’s a werewolf stuck in her wolf form, need I say more?

Reset by Eggplant_Crusader - The OG. Probably the first fic read by a good portion of this fandom. Short, sweet, what the miscommunication trope is supposed to be.

her heart is a bird on a spit in her chest by lensbian_dykely - Long one-shot, Wednesday tells her parents that her and Enid are together without informing Enid.

What does he have that I don’t? by kofeew_milkk - Jealous Enid meets Werewolf instincts.

hello there, it’s me, the bull in the china shop by bogteats - Established Wenclair, 5+1 fic leading up to their first time.

I Think I Love You by tawen - Enid gets dosed with truth serum, Enid’s in love with Wednesday…

I Can Hear Your Heartbeat by LesbihonestGuys - Wednesday is a simp coming to terms with being in love and she’s real mad about it.

sandbox love by hanjisgirlfriend - Childhood friends falling in love.

gifts from a cat by Rennajade - Wednesday being a weirdo.

She’s my mate, Yoko! by lovely_shadow_minx - Enid realises Wednesday’s her mate and freaks out about it.

i tend to handle things usually by myself and i can’t ever seem to try and ask for help by Charlie_Balle - Wednesday’s actually allergic to colour.

The Art of Courting by Athems - Wednesday tries to court Enid but Enid thinks she’s threatening her.

Please (Just This Once) by whitebeltwriter - Wednesday trying to prevent a vision and the very emotional aftermath.

Wednesday Finds a Puppy by whitebeltwriter - Wednesday finds a random puppy in the woods and thinks it’s Enid… it’s not Enid.

Are You Going To Claim Your Prize? by wintersdume - The furs make a bet over who can get Wednesday’s number, Enid gets jealous.

It’s the Uniform, Isn’t it? by wintersdume - Enid plays baseballs, Wednesday gay panics.

Mobile Etiquette by Axinite25 - Wednesday not understanding the nuisances of teenage dating/friendship.

fuel the pyre of your enemies by heliamphoria - Wenclair meet cute while committing crimes.

Scrapped Scenes by MomochiZoey - Enid’s nosy and discovers that Wednesday’s self insert Viper now has a blonde love interest.

Premonition’s Embrace by whitebeltwriter - Wednesday has a vision that forces her to admit her feelings for Enid.

if she grabs for your hand (she might want a kiss) by ipretendtobesane - Short love confession, adorable.

Stormy Weather by SspiltDecision - Wednesday’s scared of thunder, Enid helps her.

don’t talk to me or my scary goth gf ever again by Kybee1497 - Protective (slightly feral) Enid and Xavier not taking a hint.

Complete Long Fics:

Terms of Endearment by Calchexxis - AU future fic/they didn’t meet at Nevermore, Enid goes to the Addams family for help after being kicked out of her pack for not being able to wolf-out but Wednesday’s the only one home, Wednesday has visions every time they touch about different versions of them/their ancestors throughout history, SIMPING, the worlds gayest mystery, I’ve read it several times and it always hits.

Forged in Blood by RiseAboveTheAshes_203 - Post season 1, I don’t know how to describe it other than angsty devotion, if for some insane reason you haven’t read this fic do it now.

The San Francisco Incident by Apeoflight - AU future fic/they don’t meet at Nevermore, Omegaverse, Werewolf mates, falling in love, real smutty, what’s not to love?

the nature of idiosyncrasies by bogteats - One of the fics I managed to catch early on and I was OBSESSED, AU, future fic, they weren’t friends at Nevermore but Enid had a crush, Omegaverse, their dynamic in this is to die for, angsty, smutty, a real and honest portrayal of not only Wenclair but people and love in general, read it, that was a threat, if you already have read it again.

raven in the den, wolf in the nest by Barbara_Lazuli - Canon divergence, fake dating to annoy Esther Sinclair, full honesty I read this awhile ago so I’m not 100% certain what happens but I remember enjoying it, might need to do a re-read.

black marked sun by chasinghours - AU college/university, Wednesday’s Yoko and Bianca’s roommate and Enid becomes infatuated, very cute, a little angsty but nothing crazy, shy Wednesday??? if I remember correctly, gay pining, we love to see it.

Purgatory Would Be Beautiful With You by EmilyWritesStuff - In universe, WEREWOLF MATES (aka the best Wenclair trope), fun and easy read, each chapter is like a slice of their life as mates.

Dance With Wolves by wolfwars - Fake dating BUT Wednesday doesn’t realise that it’s fake (because Enid was vague af), Enid’s pining, Wednesday’s confused, great idea and really well executed.

You Are my Moon by Bee-nut - Fake dating except Wednesday commits to the bit so hard she ends up facing off against Enid’s family aka a pack of werewolves in various dangerous challenges in order to win Enid’s hand, great idea, loved every minute of it.

Old Wounds by Sharpen_your_hatchet - Wenclair reunite years after graduation, less falling in love more realising they were always in love and coming to terms with that, sweet and easy read.

So This Is Love by LoriLoud - Unhinged Murderous Wenclair… no further explanation needed.

La Petite Mort by Apeoflight AND Wednesday’s Pet by Apeoflight - Smut, they’re both smut fics, I cannot remember which was which plot wise, but same author, they’re both really good and with a good helping of falling in love, yearning, denial of feelings, miscommunication, angst… all the good stuff.

Vortex by ALotOfConfusion - Need a refresher but childhood friends to lovers, little Wednesday wants to study werewolves and I remember enjoying it.

Puppy Love by Vaniloqu3nce - Enid’s wolf starts talking to her after recognising Wednesday as their mate, havoc follows, great read.

yours, eurydice by hanjisgirlfriend - AU, future fic, they never met at Nevermore, Wednesday’s a writer, Enid’s an actress, they live across the hall from each other, they write each other love letters and fall in love, cute af, a little angsty but not too heavy, definitely a must read.

It’s hard to espresso my feelings for you by SquishiestRose - Coffee shop AU, Wednesday works at the Weathervane and she has it BAD, the platonic Wyler this world needs, a little angsty but nothing crazy, cute, fun read.

Spell It Out by forgot_my_art - A spell gone wrong leads to both a misunderstanding and an accidental proposal… I mean it’s Wenclair, of course it did, fun read.

A raven’s dream of wolf by tokyocorgi - AU future fic/they never met at Nevermore, Wednesday’s sex dreams are also prophecy’s of her future, we love to see it.

All That’s Best of Dark and Bright by Porcie - Wednesday runs from her feelings post season 1, they reunite years later, Wednesday has a vision that forces her to stay in Enid’s life and by extension forces her to confront her feelings, they’re in love the entire time while pretending they aren’t, almost soulmate-ish, a bit angsty, but a fun read.

On-Going Long Fics:

[friendly reminder to read in-progress fic as a way to encourage and support our talented writers]

I’d Eat the Sun Just to Feel Your Warmth in my Bones by MsMio - AU college/university, I still need to catch up but ANGST, childhood friends, a very interesting take on the Addams family curse, Wednesday suffers from chronic pain, a good sad read but a hopeful one.

our immeasurable ties that bind by bogteats - Fantasy type AU, some very interesting world building, Enid wakes up pregnant with no idea who she is, where she is, or how she got there, super excited to see where this goes.

Blood and Shadows by DarkVisitors - Historical AU, western vibes, angst, horny gay yearning, a vague line in the summary that alludes to them being forced to marry at gun point but it hasn’t happened yet, I am beyond invested.

A Kidnapping By Any Other Name by RavenMoon33 - Wednesday “kidnaps” Enid to spend the break with her at the Addams Estate, I’m still catching up but Wenclair antics meets Addams Family antics, Wednesday’s having visions, there’s a mystery afoot and it’s linked to Wednesday’s ancestors. I might try to squeeze in another chapter later today actually 👀 (I didn’t read the OG so no spoilers!)

Whatever This Is… by CautiouslyPessimistic - A NEW FAKE DATING AU! In universe, takes place at Nevermore, only 2 chapters so far, but well written and I’m excited to see more.

Well… That’s Knew by Chaos_of_the_valkyries - Post season 1, Enid presents as a werewolf alpha and your honour they’re mates, protective Enid, Wednesday going soft, apparently I’ve missed the last two updates??? A crime, I will be rectifying that asap.

The Bite that Binds, the Gift that Gives by TieDyeKing - Historical Fantasy-ish AU, Wenclair arranged marriage, immediate connection but they’re being cautious/don’t trust each other, beautiful imagery/world building, an intriguing plot, Esther Sinclair being Esther Sinclair (aka causing problems), only a few chapters but one of my favourites since forever ago, in love with this fic and you should be too.

Symbiotic Relationship by SquishiestRose - AU future fic/they don’t meet at Nevermore, Enid gets kicked out of her pack and ends up desperate enough that she accepts a job working as the live in servant of a woman she’s pretty sure is going to kill her (hint: it’s just Wednesday being her normal off putting self), I’m a sucker for future fics with a very isolated and lonely Wednesday learning to fall in love and this is that.

[radical-rigatoni1]

What the hell is in this fanfiction?? I fckin animated??? What the shell man what did you and alighterwood put in that @erinwantstowrite

Ramblings, 80% unimportant 20% abt the video

Remembered how fun lip synching in and remembered how frustrating lip synching is. Some words, one go bam bam. Some... not so much.

Also erin ignore the ask i sent you ignore itttt i needed that for this but then realized YOUR PROFILE PICTURE! 0 for me- 1 for noticing obvious things. Maybe more. Lost track 15 years ago

. Also i know i keep putting peter's little jacket on but i am having trouble with drawing arms without fabric and i know its technically he does have fabric but i mean LOSE fabric. If i take it off that would make me lose motivation way sooner if i was just like "UGH THIS DOESNT LOOK RIGHT!!!!" 24/7. I have learned to just go fck it, as long as i have fun the lip sync looks good and i get my main idea across... good enough but im still TRYING to hit myself w that mindset doesnt mean it'll switch immediately 😭👍 still thats gonna be my new mindset for the year....midway through. I would love to say im gonna shut up right now but at this point we both know im not really gonna.

ALSO, I HAVE SOMRTHING SLIGHTLY PLANNED for LOF again, so mayb possibly more fanart. No guarantee bcs im on the fence about how it'll look and how much I'll like it once i get that idea on paper. It's about the new chapter 😌 Dink and Peter are really sweet. I liked that they were both rly awkward on how to take the next step. Eager to, but not entirely sure in the other's stance. It's nice from both POVs ❤️❤️ once again. The writing in that fic is beautiful

Quadruple also!!!! I wanted to put more stuff around where peter was by the graves but then my titi's came by and i completely forgot the crazy idea i was grasping on to and had to scrap. I think it was super crazy though and my limited animation skills can only do so much before my brain turns to mush.

Quintuple also!!! YEAH!