#maybe she just thought it was a grief thing and that I’d gotten better?

[bundlebrent]

Apparently my not doing well is noticeable because my boss gave me Friday off and was like hey take a long weekend and go see your family

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

The Gym Membership - Part 39 (Crosshair)

Summary: Layla takes time to talk to Avery

A/N: Hello Lovelies,

I apologize for not posting last week, I was slightly injured. My loving brother decided to toss me into the pool when I least expected it, but I ended hitting the bottom of the pool with my heel. Caused me a lot of pain. Anyway, good thing is that nothing is broke.

As promised here are two chapters this week. Enjoy.

Love oo

Warnings: Talking out loud to a grave, grief, guilt, cussing, promises. I think that's it, if I miss any warnings, please let me know.

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Layla took a sip of her coffee, as she sat on the blanket Avery gave her as a gift before her sister left for her last deployment. It was almost a month since she had been able to visit Avery’s grave, every time she thought she’d be able to make it, one of her clients ended up calling with an emergency. She missed having their chats, well her one-sided chats. 

“… anyway Avery that’s how we ended up celebrating the eighteenth. Don’t get me wrong, despite the drama from that idiot Rob, we all had a really fun time. You would’ve totally loved how tipsy Mel got. She was all over Wrecker, her husband. I’ve mentioned them before. Oh and I met Crosshair’s cousin, Howzer. He was … oh well he was definitely interesting.” 

I sat with my back against her headstone. 

“Can’t believe it’s already been almost four weeks since then.” 

I let out a sigh, focusing on the cloudy sky above, somehow the gloominess reminded me of Crosshair.

“I can see why you and Crosshair found each other by the way. He’s quite talented, he really put on a show at axe throwing. I think if I met him when you were intending to introduce us, I could’ve possibly gotten on board for you two. I mean you’re both stubborn, really good with weapons, know how to captivate an audience. I mean, I’m sure there was more to it than just that, but ... I get it.” 

My hand brushed over the grass by my side, as I reflected on Cross and his family, a small smile breaking on my lips. 

“His whole family is really sweet. You would’ve loved them and I have no doubt they would’ve loved you. They’ve already taken me in as one of them, and I have to say it … it’s kind of nice, and weird. It’s been so long since I’ve had people care about me … about us. They’re constantly wanting to know more about you, wanting to hear stories about you, wanting to get to know me too, it’s … truthfully, it’s a little overwhelming having so many people care, after it just being you and me for so long. I mean, there’s not a day that goes by that my phone isn’t pinging with a message from one of them. You would’ve gotten along really well with them.”

For some reason, as my eyes focused on one particular cloud, I could feel my insecurities arising within me, “Then again, people always liked you more than me. It’s the lawyer in me, I guess. Maybe. Or it’s just … maybe like you said in our last conversation, maybe I am a stuck-up bitch at times.”

Tears began to prick my eyes, as I thought back to our last conversation, “I miss you. You always were the brave one. Always going after what you wanted. You always gave me the courage I needed.”

My eyes focused on the picture on my cell phone, Avery and me taking a selfie one night after we’d been dancing up a storm. Laughing it up. Living. It made me chuckle remembering that night.

“Oh!” I wiped the tears, “You won’t believe who reached out to me, Dan. I’m sure you remember my scumbag cheating ex-boyfriend. He wanted to get in touch since he was back in town. Can you believe that? Like I would spend any time with him. I remember the first time you called it, it was after I think our second or third date, you told me you didn’t like him. Told me he was a piece of crap and I should find someone better. Man, if only I’d listened to you, I could’ve saved myself fifteen months of heartaches.”

I closed my eyes for a little bit, missing the insults she would’ve hurled regarding Dan if she’d been here by my side.

“Do you remember when we were kids, and we would talk about what we’d be in the future? Where would we be when we were older? No matter what we thought, we always imagined we’d be by each other’s side, but now … now I’m all alone. You’re gone. Mom and dad are gone. There’s no one left.” My voice trails off as I feel a heavy weight on my chest. 

Nearly twenty minutes passed, as I sat there watching the clouds go by, thinking back to the night at Battle Axe. Imagining how different it might have been if Avery was alive, no doubt she’d have been three sheets to the wind as well, definitely making comments just like Mel and Zai had been about their own man. A tinge of guilt crawled its way up the back of her throat. 

“You would’ve really gotten along with Mel, Zai and Sofie. They’re your kind of people, I mean technically they were your sisters-in-law or sister-in-laws, or would that be sisters-in-laws? Anyway, it doesn’t matter. But, they mentioned something … well they mentioned a lot of things, most of it was clouded by their intoxication and not necessarily because they really meant what they said, but one thing that did stand out and I do believe I should try my very best is getting to know Crosshair better. We didn’t exactly get off on the right foot. I was a bitch to him, for lack of a better word. I blamed him for what happened to you, which wasn’t fair or right. Then I ignored his pain and focused on only what I lost. I know if you were alive you would’ve been disappointed in me, not to mention, you’d probably yell at me and then some, but somehow I just couldn’t see what he was going through, not until … not until the day we lost you.”

My breath hitched, as I felt the tears coming again, I shook my head as I wiped away a tear.

“Avery, what do I do? How do I make up for all the hurt I caused?” I sat there pondering for a while, “I don’t know how to make it up to him, but he’s … he’s a really good guy. So different from all the men I’ve … we’ve known before. Kind yet grumpy. Attentive yet prickly. Despite his cold exterior he has such a soft heart. I know you made him promise, he’d look after me, if you weren’t here and … despite everything I put him through, despite the sheer pain he went through losing you, he’s … he’s actually looking after me. He had every reason to walk away, to give up on his promise to you and he didn’t. He’s … he’s special.” I wiped the tears that were trailing down my cheek, “What am I going to do without you? You were always making sure I was safe, even during the war, you were always taking care of me. Calling, making sure I was safe, and alright … I owe you so much. Avery, I promise I’ll look after him for you. He deserves to have someone look after him.”

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[conquerthenight]

Danvich cuddling fluff ‼️ (i need to cure my sadness inmediatly)

Not me using this as an excuse to write an AU where Rebecca actually did kill herself.

TW: Discussion of suicide

“I watched her do it”

Ileana hadn’t guessed that Mrs. Danvers would refer to Rebecca’s suicide so openly. She had always thought the housekeeper to be a rather private person, just as Maxim was, even whilst she was currently being shown around Rebecca’s room, which she had quickly learned to be Mrs. Danvers’ sanctuary for the last year. Maybe it was just something about the room, being in such close proximity to Rebecca’s things, that had caused her to open up. The only thing Ileana could think to do was to comfort the older woman, offer her condolences. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea”

Mrs. Danvers acknowledged her with a very slight nod of the head, turning away from Ileana so as not to allow her pained expression to be seen for longer than a moment. “I saw her slip something into her tea. I tried to stop her, but she told me she’d rather die on her own terms and then…” She didn’t finish the sentence, and Ileana knew she didn’t need to.

Ileana watched as the normally stoic and stern woman vigorously wiped away her tears. She immediately approached and wrapped her arms around Mrs. Danvers. “It’s alright, you don’t have to say anything more” She hoped this would soothe her a little.

To her surprise, Mrs. Danvers returned the hug. “Thank you, madam” Her voice wavered as she attempted to retain her composure.

“Why don’t you sit down for a while? I could leave you alone if you like” Ileana offered, gesturing towards the bed.

Mrs. Danvers immediately gripped her hand. “No, I’d rather you stay” Her tone was quite insistent, almost back to her usual commanding self, though there was a softness to it that Ileana had not expected when directed towards her.

Ileana did indeed stay, taking a seat next to the housekeeper at the edge of the bed, all the while the latter didn’t let go of her hand. Neither woman spoke for a few moments, but Ileana was glad to notice that Mrs. Danvers was beginning to feel better. “I hadn’t expected you to confide in me of all people, but I’m glad you did” She broke the silence.

“Neither did I” Mrs. Danvers trailed off for a moment, and after a brief pause, she laughed just the slightest bit. “I wanted to hate you when you arrived at Manderley. Turns out you’ve made that an impossible task”

Ileana didn’t know whether it was the vulnerability of the moment or something else entirely, but the fact that Mrs. Danvers was continuing to share confidences with her made her smile. She squeezed the other woman’s hand. “This is rather silly to admit, but I was afraid of you for a while” A laugh of her own escaped her. How could she have been afraid of Mrs. Danvers when the woman had merely been lost in grief the entire time they’d known one another?

“You and half of the maids, madam” Ileana was stunned by the housekeeper’s lighthearted remark. She hadn’t taken Mrs. Danvers for one to make jokes at all. In any other scenario, being compared to the maids may have been a slight, just as it had been when Ileana had gone with Clarice to visit the latter’s mother, just as it had been when Maxim had asked why she hadn’t just gotten ahold of Mrs. Danvers after breaking the cupid, but this was clearly not intended to hurt.

Mrs. Danvers continued after a moment when it was clear Ileana would not reply. “Though I must ask you, madam, are you still afraid of me?”

TIleana shook her head, and just to show that she wasn’t, she inched a little closer to Mrs. Danvers, putting an arm around her waist as they continued to sit side by side. “Not at all” She smiled once more as the other woman leaned into the touch. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes, madam” A ghost of a smile formed on Mrs. Danvers’ lips.

“Good” Ileana replied, her eyes locking with her companion’s. They seemed to come to an unspoken understanding in that moment, for Mrs. Danvers wrapped her arm around Ileana’s shoulders. The two women remained cuddling just so for quite some time. Very few words were spoken, but for once the silence was not the least bit awkward.

Mrs. Danvers stood after a while, leaving Ileana a little disappointed. “I’d best take my leave, madam. Mrs. Rutherford will be needing me soon to oversee the dinner preparations” She said.

“Very well” Ileana sighed. “But if you need me, you know where to find me” She offered this last reassurance.

Mrs. Danvers nodded. “Yes, of course” She replied, turning to leave the room.

Ileana stopped her, not wanting her to leave just yet. “Oh, and Mrs. Danvers…” She paused, wanting to come up with some excuse to keep her there a little longer, and ended up saying the first thing that came to her mind. “I…never liked orchids. Would you be so kind as to get rid of the pots in the morning room?”

Mrs. Danvers stifled a laugh, her slight smile becoming more prominent. Ileana hoped to see more of that smile sooner rather than later.

“As you wish, madam”

[evita-shelby]

Incantatrice

Chapter 11

Cw: inappropriate drug and alcohol use, miscarriage and grief

Taglist: @zablife @thegreatdragonfruta @wandawiccan60 @babayaga67

The Eva that left New York is different from the Eva who comes back from Italy.

For one, Eva comes back officially pregnant and happier than she left.

She loves waking up beside him, to feel him there with her, to hear his heart under his chest.

To know she is not alone anymore is the greatest thing of all.

Audrey and Vincente have left and she is relieved. Even more so when learns Audrey has not told anyone about her episode before the wedding.

“Mm, why do you, why do want to know why that bitch talked to me about you, Evuccia?” he asks drunk on cheap wine and high on the cocaine she used as an anesthetic to patch him up.

Luca had gotten cut up badly and the doctor who normally did this was unavailable. Eva had developed a talent for these things and provided her the opportunity to get him to talk.

He avoided giving her a real answer when he was sober, no matter how she tried to get it out of him.

“Just curious.” She lied as she bandaged his torso with great care.

“She said you were bad luck; told her I’d be the judge of that.” He said with a smirk.

Maybe you will be proven wrong, the witch thought.

“I love you, in good luck and bad luck, Evuccia.” He said high and drunk and trying to kiss her.

“Tell me that tomorrow when you’re sober, Lucito.”

----

It is two months later when the chill of death returns.

“I love you,” Luca had kissed her goodbye after breakfast and then the cold and evil wind sets in her bones like a bitter winter.

Eva stops by the wooden ships that remind her of the one she had as a little girl when the chill sets in her bones and before she knows it, she is bleeding on the floor and crying because she knows her baby is dead.

Leonardo Changretta, they had decided on the name this morning as they’d dangled Luca’s wedding band over her belly and saw it was a boy.

He was dead before her body expelled him in the hospital bed after the doctors and midwives tried everything to stop it.

He was dead before she even woke up in an ambulance rushing to the closest hospital.

He was dead before she even had a chance to tell anyone else, she was pregnant.

“I’m cursed.” She weeps into Luca’s shoulder and tells him it’s her fault that their baby is dead.

“You’re not, these things, these things happen to everyone, Evuccia.” He said being strong for the both of them and holding her until she feels like she has run out of tears.

Eva had thought her tears gone, when she buried Gabriel in Chihuahua in 1916 and her eyes simply refused to cry as she walked into the desert with the intention of dying.

Now, she feels like she might drown in her agony.

“There will be others.” He kissed the top of her head.

But never Leonardo, never the baby boy with olive skin and laughing green eyes and Luca’s smile.

She comes home the next day, but she is not the same woman he left after breakfast yesterday.

Yesterday she had been filled with life and now she is empty.

Yesterday she had seen her little Leo fit in the hand of the midwives as her body expelled him from inside her.

Yesterday she had set out to begin decorating a nursery for the perfect baby boy she’d have.

Eva had already chosen the theme, how she would remodel the room and find a way to get a skilled woodworker to make a toy ship like the one she used to have as a girl.

And now that will never happen.

She could have a thousand little boys with Luca’s eyes and smile, but they will never be Leonardo. She will never be able to hold him or see him grow or hear his first laugh.

Eventually the bleeding stops and her body has seemed to have healed, but her heart hasn’t.

Days turns to months and Eva hates how people want her to try again because somehow that will make it better.

Eva hates the pity and those stupid sayings like God wanted another angel. She hates that women aren’t supposed to even acknowledge their pain because you weren’t supposed to be so attached to something not yet born.

Luca had made it worse by having the housekeeper just lock up the empty nursery so she won’t have to see it.

Easier to move on if you can’t see it.

But that isn’t her way, her way is to be confronted with it, to know it happened and to live with it.

This morning Eva steels herself and goes into the nursery.

It’s empty, with only a few dressers and the half-assembled crib that had arrived that day.

Even in its emptiness it hurt her like knife to her heart. It is plunged deeply into her, something she can never get out of her no matter how much people think she can.

Eva falls to her knees and for the first time in ages, lets herself grieve for the baby that would never be.

“It wasn’t your fault, Evuccia,” she doesn’t hear or feel him come in, its only when he comes and holds her on the dusty rug as she cries that she knows he’s really there. “These accidents happen.”

Eventually it will pass, she knows this, there will be good days and bad ones, but it will pass.

And it does, in 1921 Eva finds herself hopeful and swallows the feeling of doom down with Luca’s wine and tells him she wants to try again.

But the evil chill she felt on her wedding day and that damned day at the shop doesn’t leave even after she gives birth to the perfect son she had dreamed off, it lingers there like a shadow.

A shadow only Audrey sees as she holds baby Leonardo Gabriel Changretta nine months after.

“I pray your curse is satisfied with the dead bambino, strega.” The woman says, gently rocking the baby boy she has claimed as her grandson even if he has not a single drop of her blood. “To lose one child is punishment enough.”

But Eva isn’t hurt by her words.

She sees her boy live and grow into a man, takes after his father, same green eyes, same smile, but none of the blood and violence of Luca.

“Leo is destined to live, Audrey, he will be everything we have dreamed of and more.” Eva said filled with hope and joy as she ignored the shadow only the two women see.

[fruit-of-infidelity]

♱  DIABOLIK LOVERS: Haunted Dark Bridal ー Sakamaki Ryuuto | Maniac 02  ♱

⌜ Scene: Yui’s Balcony ⌟

ー Footsteps approach Yui. ー

Ryuuto: I thought I would find you out here.

Yui: … …

Ryuuto: You have been cooped up in your room for a while now. I must say, I applaud your attempt to conceal yourself away.

If I weren’t a Vampire, the drawn curtains would have fooled me; I never would have thought you were hiding out on your balcony.

Yui: ( Gosh... It’s that person. )

( Since I was bitten, I’ve tried to keep myself away from him at all costs while the wound heals… He really frightened me that night… )

( And… what he said to me. “Love”... )

Ryuuto: …Though, I’m afraid your little rebellious stand ー whatever it was for ー will need to be put on hold for now. It is almost time for school.

Yui: ( I suppose I can’t keep this up forever… )

( School is the one time I get to properly stretch my legs and meet people. )

( For the sake of my own wellbeing, I should try to get past this... )

Alright. I’ll comーー

ー Yui’s stomach suddenly growls. ー

Yui: …!

Ryuuto: Fufu, it seems all this fierce defiance has you working up an appetite, no? I wasn’t lying when I said you’d been in here for a while.

Yui: How long has it been?

Ryuuto: Since noon yesterday; You completely ignored my summons for breakfast.

Yui: It’s been that long!?

( That’s what he came by earlier for? I just covered my ears and pretended to be asleep so he would leave me alone… )

Ryuuto: I hope you don’t intend on wasting any more time tonight before school. So, be sure to change into your uniform soon.

Yui: W-Wait…!

Before we go… Do you think I will have time to have a small meal?

Ryuuto: Oh? Now you have decided to accept my hospitality, have you? After such an impressive display of stubbornness?

Yui: ( Touché. I feel really embarrassed about asking since I completely disregarded his offer for it this morning. )

Uu… How about I make something for the both of us, instead?

Ryuuto: …In that case, I think I have the perfect recipe in mind.

━─┉┈◈ Time Skip ◈┈┉─━

⌜ Scene: Kitchen ⌟

ー Yui places the tray down. ー

Yui: As promised, cinnamon rolls! Ta~daa~!

They’ve turned out pretty good for my first ever attempt, don’t you think?

Ryuuto: Don’t get ahead of yourself. You have yet to taste them.

Yui: Let’s dig in then, while they’re still warm! Bon Appétit!

Ryuuto: Feed me.

Yui: E-Eh…!?

Ryuuto: You’ve already gotten your hands sticky with that roll there. Why make me do the same when you can just feed me, instead?

━─┉┈◈ Selection ◈┈┉─━

　　❈  This is a trick!

Yui: …You think I’d fall for that?

I only made these for you because I’d become the snack otherwise. This is just another reason to bite me again…!

Ryuuto: Good grief, you think I’d stoop as low as that? To deceive you?

I could bite you anytime, and you think I’d choose right now to do so? When you’ve just prepared my favourite food?

Yui: ( He has a point. Maybe I was a little too harsh to suspect him… )

　　❈  Feed each other ⎨❤︎⎬

Yui: …How about you feed me while I feed you〜?

I already went the effort of baking them in the first place, after all. This is the fairest thing to do.

Ryuuto: The fairest thing? Fufu, I’m sparing you another sucking this soon after in exchange for these rolls and you think it’s unfair?

Or are you trying to come onto me again, I wonder?

Yui: …!

( My attempt at teasing him in return backfired on me! )

━━─┉┈┈◈◉◈┈┈┉─━━

Yui: ( Uu… I guess I have no choice. )

ー She picks up a roll. ー

Okay, Ryuuto-san… Say “aaah”.

Ryuuto: … …

Yui: ( He’s closing his eyes in anticipation…! )

Fufu…

( Like this, I can get a better look at his face… He’s actually really handsome. )

ー He suddenly grasps her wrist. ー

Ryuuto: …Heh.

Yui: Wha…!

Ryuuto: You know… I made a promise to myself to hold back on you until your neck had healed from my fangs.

ー Ryuuto pulls her close. ー

However, the scent coming from your wound is almost irresistible.

Yui: St-Stop…!

( This was a ploy for my blood after all! )

( His face! It’s too close! )

Yui: Stay away…!

ー Ryuuto kisses her. ー

Ryuuto: Mmn…

Yui: Aah…!?

( He… kissed me! )

( My first kiss… )

Ryuuto: Fufu. I’m a man of my word, so do relax.

Although, I don’t mind seeing you on edge like this every so often. Perhaps being overly cautious isn’t the worst thing you can do.

ー He takes a bite from the roll. ー

✥ TO BE CONTINUED ✥

─────── ≪ °♛° ≫ ───────

←  [ ✥ Maniac 01 ✥ ] ⎥ [ ✥ Maniac 03 ✥ ]  →

[pearblossommina]

ToG Read-a-Long, Crown of Midnight, Day 7

45

Kaltain got taken away, and married to the duke, I’ll miss you baby, I hope you and he work out. At least you can see the sky again. I’m not sure what Celaena is implying by drawing a connection between Roland, Cain, and Kaltain, does she think that King Whatever plopped portions of Wyrdkeys into them? Or… what?

And is the Ah! Time’s Rift! Riddle actually an anagram?!? I TRIED SO HARD to decode it, lol, but I’m pretty bad at anagrams. It just seemed like the kind of sentence that was rearranged to make an anagram, though.

Here, lemme try again

“The fair mist” or maybe “the first aim”

I am

So bad at this

46

Oh my god 😂

You could hide something forever from me by giving me an anagram, I feel like I NEVER would have gotten that

BUT that poem also spelled it out, Celaena. We knew it was in the tomb. The king knew. The door knew. Everybody knew. Lol.

So Dorian is only magical because his dad made it so that he would be… that was a surprisingly thoughtful thing for Dorian’s dad to do. And kinda out of character, honestly, but maybe he’s hoping that Dorian will follow in his evil footsteps.

I like that the ghost of King Gavin is like wake up boy go stop Celaena she’s all mad with grief

47

Oh my God 😭

I never thought I’d see you again, Nehemia!

Can you kiss

Can you hold hands

Just one last time!

“I knew what my fate was to be and I embraced it. I ran toward it.”

Girl. You died so violently, lol. How. How could you run toward THAT end.

Hello Archer, wow, that’s really random, I wasn’t expecting to see YOU here…

48

Um!

This fucking guy was the murderer all along! Archer how could you! I liked you!

Dorian and Chaol to the rescue

Best friends

It seems like they’re making up at last

49

INTENSE INTENSITY

HOLY SHIT

FLEETFOOT

CHAOL

whaaaa, that reveal tho

Was she fae this whole time? How did she disguise herself? How did she get to the human realm? Is she trapped there, since there’s no magic? Or did stepping through the portal cause her to transform kinda like being dunked into a cauldron?

(Is the faerie realm just the human realm, or are they separate realms?)

(Glancing at the map)

(Guys I’m excited)

(I’d much rather read about fae and faeries, I was under the impression these books were about fae and faeries and was so shocked when I started reading and was like huh???)

(Anyway. FINALLY! this is such a thrill)

(I DO NOT WANT TO STOP READING)

(That dog better be ok or my sanity is going to crumble)

That was quite a fun ride!

I feel like it’s impossible to stop reading right now especially with how it feels like there’s hardly any book left.

No promises that I won’t just read the rest right now

(I’m gonna go eat lunch first)

(The end of SJM books are always very intense and entertaining and hard to put down)

[ambarto]

I love arospec Finduilas! I’d love to read your thoughts on it if you’re interested in writing them! Your blog is great 💚

-@outofangband

Hi thank you! Honestly I see Finduilas as either quoiro or freyro (I do have a short freyromantic Finduilas fic I wrote for aspec arda week a couple years ago). Partially because I find it compelling that Elves are very big on monogamy and all and Finduilas is I think the only Elf we see actively fall out of love with someone. So I really like the idea of Finduilas either being unable to recognize romantic feelings, or having romantic feelings that come and go, it would add an additional sparkle of angst to her story to have her confused by her own feelings.

I also see Finduilas as being fairly young when she died, kind of the equivalent of 20 years old or so, and having not yet had time to figure out her identity entirely by then. I do think she cared a lot about Gwindor, possibly being attracted to him in some way, and him being captured would have been devastating for her. However, this also gave her... I don't want to say an excuse not to examine her feelings further, more like that grief is grief and she would have had no reason to pick apart if what she felt had been romantic or not.

Then when Gwindor came back there was Turin too. If we go with freyromantic Finduilas, her developing a crush on Turin could have been in her mind more of a reason for not loving Gwindor anymore than simply falling out of love. She could have told herself she hadn't just stopped loving him, she just had a new man she was attracted to. Plus for freyromantics feelings fade once you have established an emotional connection to someone, and we know what Turin was like, he was too busy running from his past and being secretive about it might have kept him from developing his relationship with others in Nargothrond. Despite technically knowing him, he might have remained the mysterious brooding semi-stranger for ages, and that could have meant Finduilas kept her feeling longer.

Now if we look at quoiromantic Finduilas instead, in that case she might have felt curious about Turin or felt a strong more platonic attraction to him, and not recognized what she was feeling. Maybe her interest in Turin, who was a new person she didn't know, could have felt more intense than her affection for Gwindor. She might have even felt kind of the same way about Gwindor before they had gotten engaged. So she just mixed things up.

And now I'm also thinking of lithromantic Finduilas that would be very neat too.

Anyways I'm also a fan of Finduilas finally getting the life she deserved once she comes back from Mandos. She can grow a bit wiser in Valinor, get to know herself better, understand her orientation. Not to mention, Finduilas was born and lived in a war, and I'm sure that also gave her a sense of urgency and of having to hold on to what she had while she had it. Getting engaged to Gwindor young because they both knew they could be killed any day and all of that. In Valinor she can get to relax and slow down, and that could also give her the chance of thinking more deeply about herself.

[rising-angelx]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ catching up: a selection of memories. solo in chicago, again.

tw for mentions of abandonment, depression, anxiety, and depiction of a panic attack

୨୧

deciding to spend the first half of her break back in chicago was a decision made somewhat impulsively. her first run in her former city had been a mess of ups and downs for her, but she had hoped that with time to relax instead of running around with practice and performances and a legion of managers and security, she would actually be able to enjoy her time. not to mention, one of her closest childhood friends had just returned from a long-haul work trip in shanghai, and she could not miss the opportunity to see her again.

hannah oh, or as dahye knew her better as, hyunin, was practically the only friend she had outside of her ragtag group of musically inclined friends. she was the youngest daughter of the only other korean family in her building, and her first friend in america. she had helped her learn english outside of school and acclimate to the brand new world she never asked to suddenly belong to. dahye had tried to keep up with her friend after she left, and occasionally got to see her when she was in korea, visiting family or handling business, but it had been a few years since she had last seen her. now, she sprawled across her plush couch in the brand new high rise she had taken up residence in, sipping on a sweet moscato probably fresh from some fancy california vineyard, catching up on lost time. 

their cheeks had already begun to heat to a soft pink, a couple of glasses already passing through their hands over laughs and light stories. angel had been in the middle of one about making an embarrassing mess out of herself at the last company party on valentine’s day.

“y’know, i was crying about my family and like… all the ways i’d been wronged by love, all that dramatic stuff. i almost…” she paused, remembering the main cause of her drunken grief that night being a past relationship her friend knew about well. “my friend, you remember danbi, she told me she found me when i was uh,” she sighed, hanging her head slightly with a bout of shame hitting her system. “i was trying to hunt down malachi. make him apologize for leaving.”

hannah’s eyes widened in realization, a hand flying to her lips in a gasp. “i heard you’re working with him now! oh god, i remember the day after he left like it was yesterday,” she sighed, recalling the phone call she had gotten from angel, only hearing broken sobs on the other end when she picked up.

dahye took a slow sip of her wine, rolling her shoulders out as if the memory was a fight she was preparing for. maybe it was. “yeah,” she sighed. “me too.”

୨୧

that week in 2013 was a warm spot as the colder months began to come to an end. angel remembered the day before, her band making plans to skip their last class at school and head to some spot by the river someone had found before going to ahmed’s to rehearse. they had a gig coming up in some dingey bar they had booked once before and wanted to be invited back again. she didn’t remember anything off about that day, about the way kai acted or spoke to her. to any of them. she never would have guessed that it would be the last day of her life as she knew it. 

she didn’t notice anything odd until the next morning when she woke up to no new messages from her boyfriend. he had always stayed up much later than her, and she would often wake up to some of his 2 am thoughts. it didn’t really bother her, figuring he had actually allowed himself to fall asleep at a decent time the night before. it didn’t really bother her when she didn’t see him at school either, his truancy record definitely not spotless. none of the small things started to bother her until she saw ahmed in the hall, a sad looking scowl on his face. he didn’t even seem to notice her as he passed, a stark contrast to the way he would gleefully yell her name down the hall with a larger than life wave the moment he saw her head bobbing in the crowd of kids. 

that’s when the anxiety began to slowly eat at her insides. one thought disturbed her brain, distracting her from the entire rest of the school day. where was malachi? 

the next thing she remembered was at the meeting spot by the river. she didn’t remember the likely anxious journey there, oddly lacking kai, or even arriving. she only remembered the unusual quiet that sat amongst her friends, downcast looks across all of their faces. she remembered asking, “where’s kai?” she remembered the way her heart plummeted when someone said “he’s gone,” death coming to mind before the idea of malachi willingly leaving her without a single word. she hardly remembered the careful voice of felix explaining the situation, only a few words standing out in her memory. kai. left. for korea. with daniel. what angel did distinctly remember was all five agonizing stages of grief. 

denial. “he wouldn’t do that. he would never leave without saying could by. he wouldn’t leave me.” refusing to believe it in any way her friends tried to explain it to her. “he told me he wasn’t going to go with them, why would he lie to me?” refusing to believe her boyfriend, the undeniable love of her life, would up and leave her for the empty promises of some recruiter from the other side of the globe. most of all without saying anything.

anger. “how could you let him do that?” she remembered the hurt look on ahmad’s face when she shoved him, and the strange gratification she got from it. “how could you let him leave? just walk out of our lives like we’re nothing?” she remembered the way she blamed daniel, the friend who had left before kai, to follow his dream the very same way. “he convinced him, didn’t he? to go? i knew daniel was a fucking rat, he left us first.” most of all, she remembered the anger he felt at the very source of loss. “why would he do this to me? how the fuck could he leave me? how could he lie to me and tell me he loved me and disappear without a fucking word?”

bargaining. “did i do something? did he just never want to see me anymore? can i fix it?” she remembered the way her mother held her in her lap, allowing the tears to soak her shirt as she gently pet her hair. at the time, the woman would have done anything to console her daughter, her own heart breaking seeing her in such pain. but really, there was nothing to be done but be there for her. angel remembered her aunt’s opinion on the matter clearly. “it wasn’t your fault, darling. surely he realized you were far too good for him in the first place. the only thing he knew how to do was run.” it was harsh and it hurt her heart to hear such things about someone she held so dear. but at times when she would have cursed his name to all powers earthly or not, it helped. it helped to put the blame on someone else’s shoulders.

depression. the worst of it. when the school year finally ended and she had no reason to force herself out of bed in the morning. she didn’t remember any of it. days melted into each other and she was sure now that everyone near to her was worried sick, but at the time she couldn’t have brought herself to care. kai was gone. her reason, her future. the depression was the hardest to escape.

acceptance. the most ambiguous of all. she didn’t know when acceptance set in. maybe it was when she could get out of bed of her own accord. maybe it was when she could look at her guitar without tears tugging at her eyes. maybe it was when she started seeing her friends again. maybe it was falling down the same path he had taken. she wasn’t sure if it had ever even set in at all. 

୨୧

“what was it like seeing him again?” her friend asked, peeking at her over the rim of her wine glass as she took another sip.

heartstopping. 

୨୧

tidal had been at some music show or another, promoting another comeback. she couldn’t remember the details. but in the back halls of the production, among all the bustle of stylists and managers and producers and idols big and small, she saw him. the group had just gotten off stage and it was just for a moment. she wasn’t even sure it was him at first, but there was no mistaking the angled jawline and pointed nose. he didn’t even see her, as far as she knew, but it was enough. enough to freeze the air in her lungs, her heart feeling like it was nearly going to burst. it had been three years since she had last seen him, but the wound still felt as jagged and fresh as ever, tearing her apart from the inside. she could feel her body shaking as she tried to catch her breath, but she could barely force any air into her lungs. her vision started fuzzing around the edges, the world spinning much too fast for her liking. she stumbled into the first empty dressing room she could find, clutching her head, her chest. the outfit she was wearing was far too tight, her hands clawing at the choker that she had admired in the mirror earlier but she was sure in the moment that if she couldn’t get it off she would die in it, right there on the floor, backstage at musicbank or wherever the hell they were. 

angel had known it would happen eventually. they were a part of the same small world once again. in fact, there were times she’d hoped she would see him again. sometimes she imagined a soft reunion, warm embraces and maybe a few tears. maybe a few kisses. other times she imagined herself walking right up to him and socking him in the face, career-ending scandal be damned. what she never imagined was spiraling into a state of panic at one glimpse of him from across a busy room. 

she wasn’t sure how long it took to calm down, for her chest to rise and fall at a relatively normal rate again. it was dae who found her, curled up on the green room couch with her head buried in her hands, cheeks streaked with melted makeup and tears she hadn’t even realized had fallen. it felt ironic, looking back at it. but at the time it was just her leader and friend, taking care of her at such a low moment. 

angel hadn’t thought about that day in such a long time. she couldn’t even remember what she had told her worry-stricken bandmates as to why she had gone m.i.a, returning shaking and tear soaked, but she knew it wasn’t the truth. 

୨୧

“kind of horrible,” she elicited a laugh alongside the understatement of the year. “just really jarring, y’know? it had been like, i dunno, 3, 4 years? but seeing him felt like he had left me all over again. it sucked,” she sighed, swirling the sweet red liquid around her glass.

hyunin nodded in understanding. she had been through her fair share of heartbreaks, but she knew the way kai had shattered dahye’s couldn’t compare. “how is it now though? like, do you see him a lot?”

“well… its really complicated.” she set her glass down, adjusting her legs tucked underneath her. “at first, when our companies merged, i avoided him like the plague,” she laughed at the notion, almost as literal as it sounded. “but we have the same friends, we had to work it out eventually. it was just this thing festering and it wasn’t…” her voice faded, her thoughts dissolving into a deep sigh. “plus,” she raised her eyebrows, awaiting the reaction her friend would have to the following news, “he’s with my group’s leader now. dae.”

hannah’s jaw dropped, making angel laugh at the comical expression. “no!” she cried, clutching angel’s hand in the dramatics of it all.

“yes!” the guitarist nodded. “i want to be happy for them, of course, but it just makes me feel so… watching them… its like some fucked mirror of what could’ve been, right?”

“100 percent,” her friend agreed, patting her leg in comfort and support. “does she even know? about how you two were?”

“i mean, i haven’t told her. so, i can’t blame her. as much as my heart wants to sometimes, it's not right.”

“but you’re over him.”

“the way we were… so dependent on each other like that. so… well, i would say, in love. and the way it ended with so little closure after a whole… fucking decade. i don’t think there is any being over him. i don’t have those feelings for him anymore, and i know there’s no future there, but his presence just lights me on fire. i can’t stand next to him without thinking about all of the could’ve should’ve would’ves between us.” she had never spoke so honestly about this before. she could feel her words beginning to stick painfully to her throat, but she fought to get them out. she needed them to finally be aired.

hyunin listened carefully, nodding along. “speaking honestly, hye-ya,” she began, holding her hand between hers once more. “i think what you two had was a little unhealthy, the way you clung to each other… but the past is the past, right? i really hope you work it out,” her eyes held her genuinity, carefully attempting to convey the words straight from her heart. “back then, i never thought i would ever see two people so connected. but i know you can start over.”

a start over. that mythical desire of everyone hurt by the past. would it ever find her?

[daphnebishop]

He was trying, but for what? There was no reconciliation as far as Daphne could see, even as the hope strumming in her chest begged her to believe it, even as doubt and heartbreak yawned deeper and threatened to swallow her whole. At the end of this, whatever this was, all that would be left of her would be the bitter morsels grief could not swallow. She never figured out how to untangle the shame and all that clung to it in a haze of conflicting emotion. He was trying, and maybe that was what Daphne feared the most. Trying meant moving on, did it not? Could she do such a thing? Daphne twisted her fingers in her lap and furrowed her brows, all the unsaid things she couldn't find the words to explain.

She sighed, quiet and stuttering without looking away. Every time as of late felt like it could be the last time she'd lay eyes on him, and the selfish thumping of her heart begged her to hold onto that just a little while longer. Remember the aura that clung around him, like pieces of him she understood better than herself; you're made of all my favorite colors, she thought of the sleepy memory once believed to be a dream, and blinked, her eyes drifting above his head to take note of the colors around him now. Her breath stuttered and Daphne dropped her gaze back to his face. Hadn't t she told him once she was trying? Was it enough to try?

She watched the emotion shutter across him and visibly tilted back, as if the realization he'd never gotten her letter was a slap to her face. Daphne's instinct had been to reach across to him, to pull him closer. She pressed her palms into the grass at the river bank, "I wrote you a letter, Nate. I explained," she stuttered eyes moving to the opposite shore. She could recall every word, every thing she took and all she had left. The most important pieces of herself, she furrowed her brows and willed him to understand. "Nate, I am sorry to leave this way. I know I am doing you a disservice by leaving you with a letter but it was the only way I knew I wouldn’t back out of what I know I have to do. I finally have a lead on my sister, and I have to follow it. I know this has been painful for you, difficult, and unfair. I know none of it is what you signed up for when we got married. But this is my life and my burden I have to see it through. I can’t be the reason you suffer anymore. I want you to be happy, and if that is without me, I have drawn up divorce papers. You’ll see I’ve asked for nothing, kept nothing," Daphne recited the letter from memory, stopping before she had when she wrote it, her heart-tugging into her throat as she quietly recalled the parts she couldn't bring herself to say aloud.

Nothing but my rings. I hope you’re okay with that? Maybe it is because I don’t think I’ll ever really be ready to let go of you. This is why this is so difficult. "If you’d ask me to stay, I’d never leave. I’d never find the answers to finally put my sister to rest, and I’d just continue making you miserable," Daphne paused again, the most vulnerable parts of the letter feeling too tender to recite now, not when he was here with someone else. "So this following suggestion may be selfish; maybe it means I am no good for you, but I love you too much to not ask anyway. If you find this idea of ending as terrible and foolish as it feels, the door is open. The key will be where I hide them all. It’s yours if you want it. If you still want me. Daphne swallowed the words, a strain of her voice as she found the omission of the whole letter a lie, she looked away, "The choice is yours... all my love, Daphne."

Daphne doubted any of this changed a thing; she didn't think it could. With all the space between them, she could fall forever and never find footing again. "I wrote that letter. I left it for you on top of the papers, Nate." Daphne stressed, gesturing around them, "Do you not see this place for what it is yet?" she scoffed, "I was never going to find this place if the person giving me the information couldn't trust me. I never would have found Ronnie, I had to leave, Nate. I had to find her, but I didn't want this," Daphne explained in a rush of vulnerability that took her by surprise. "Tamsin was there the day I left...looking for you. Always looking for you," she scoffed, rolling her eyes to keep tears from falling.

"You're so angry with me, but what the hell was I supposed to do? Stay and watch you lean on Tamsin more and more? Who was I supposed to lean on? I couldn't...I wasn't able to lean on you when you were so," Daphne paused, a tearless sob breaking in her words, a hiccup of a gasp, and she shook her head, "Just, whatever you're trying to do here, I'd prefer it if we didn't try to pretend... I see it all over you," Daphne gestured around him, to the colors that broke her heart to witness, "The weather is terrible," Daphne whispered as the clear blue skies and warm breezes swept through her hair.

Immediately, Nate's guards went back up. He bristled at her tone, at her words, at the way she seemed to intent to keep them on unsteady ground while he had swallowed down his own heartbreak to try and form some sort of truce. If only so they could make it through this weekend unscathed.

But of course it couldn't be that simple. "I'm trying here," he said quietly through his teeth. But it was her admission about only finding out about the witch thing and then the casual drop of werewolves that shut him right back up. A muscle feathered in his cheek as he clenched his teeth, staring out into the water and wondering how such a wide and devastating chasm could have opened up between them. They were strangers with history. He didn't know what to do with that.

His head snapped back toward her, his back up immediately when she said she'd told him she was leaving. His brows furrowed, all the betrayal at her desertion turning into a righteous sort of anger as he looked at her. "What are you talking about? You didn't tell me anything, Daphne. You just left. You were just gone. So don't tell me about how fucking loud silence is. It's all you left behind." A bitter laugh and then: "Well, that and divorce papers. I guess that said enough for you."

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

Alright, I read your recent post and need to know - what is your interpretation of Maglor’s relationship with the twins?

askjdhslkjag my biggest self-inflicted problem in this fandom is that my take on maglor, elrond, and elros' relationship is so intensely detailed and specific i am forever tormented by none of the fic i read ever quite getting it right (from my perspective; i’ve read plenty of fic that presents a good interpretation on their own terms, it’s just never mine.) it’s simultaneously way darker than the fluffy kidnap dads stuff and nowhere near as black-and-white awful as the anti-fëanorian crowd likes to paint it, it’s messy and complicated and surrounded by darkness, and yet there’s also a sincere connection within it which mostly serves to make all those complications worse. angry teenage elrond is angry for a great many reasons, and the circumstances around him being raised by kinslayers account for at least half of them. there’s lots of complexity here, and i don’t see it in fic nearly as often as i’d like

(warning: the post... feathers? i already have an internet friend called faeiri this could be awkward - anyway, the post she’s talking about includes the line ‘everyone is wrong about kidnap dads except me.’ this post follows on from that in being as much a commentary about why various popular interpretations of both how the kidnapdoption went and the way people subsequently characterise the twins just don’t work for me as it is a setting out of my own ideas. i’m not really interested in getting into discourse here, i’m just trying to get my thoughts down. i’ve read fic with these interpretations before that i’ve liked, even, don’t take this as a Condemnation, aight? also this turned out long as hell, so i’m putting it under a cut)

i can never buy entirely fluffy depictions of kidnap dads

which isn’t to say i don’t read them! sometimes all i want is something sweet, for these kids to get to be happy for once. it’s not like i think their time with the fëanorians was completely devoid of laughter

it’s just. the pet names, the special days out, the home-cooked meals, it can get so treacly it stops feeling like the characters they are in the situation they’re in and turns into Generic Found Family #272

it soaks out all the complexity - which is the thing i am here for - and acts like oh, these kids were never in any danger, they were perfectly happy being abducted by the people who murdered everyone they knew, there’s nothing possibly questionable about this relationship at all

and... yeah. that’s not the characters i know. that’s not the context i know they belong to

i just can’t forget the circumstances that led them to meet

rivers of blood, the air filled with screams, a town ablaze, a woman choosing to die. every interaction the three of them have is going to proceed from that nightmare

(sidenote: i tend to hold it was maglor that raised the twins, with maedhros looming ominously in the background not really getting involved. it’s mostly personal preference, i’ve been in and out of the fandom since before this kidnap dads thing blew up and when i joined that was a perfectly standard reading)

(also the cave thing was a dumb idea, old man, if only because it implies beleriand had streams safe enough for children to play in at that point. the way it separates the twins from the third kinslaying is also something i don’t particularly vibe with)

probably my least favourite angle i’ve seen on the situation (edged out only by ‘maglor was actively abusive towards the twins’ which no no no no no no no no NO) is the idea that maglor (and/or maedhros, append as necessary) took the twins specifically to raise them

like, i get where it’s coming from, but it makes maglor come off as really creepy

(i have read fics where it is indeed played off as really creepy, but that’s not a maglor i have any interest in reading about)

(’mags 100% bad’ is just as facile a take to me as ‘mags 100% good’)

even if you’re saying maglor took them in because they had no one left to take care of them - i highly doubt they were the only children the fëanorians orphaned at sirion. idk, it always makes maglor seem much less sympathetic than i think it’s meant to

i prefer to think of it as more... organic? something that evolved, not something that was preordained. them growing closer gradually, the twins finding an adult who might maybe be on their side, maglor becoming invested in them almost by accident

and then the twins are so comfortable with the second scariest monster in amon ereb they frequently sass him off and maglor’s gotten so used to not hurting them he’s not even thinking about it any more. no one’s quite sure how it happened, but they’ve made a Connection

‘wait aren’t they a murderous warlord of questionable mental stability and a pair of terrified small children who’ve lost everyone they ever knew? isn’t that kinda fucked up?’ yup! that’s the point! complexity!

another idea i don’t like is the idea that maglor was an objectively better parent to the twins than eärendil or elwing

other people have talked about this already, i won’t rehash the whole thing. i will say that while i don’t think elwing was a perfect parent - someone so young, in such a horrible situation, i wouldn’t blame her for screwing up - i do think she (and eärendil) did the best by them they possibly could

this is one of the few things they have in common with maglor

something i come across now and again is the idea that sure, elwing and eärendil weren’t abusive or horrible or anything, but they were a couple of basically-teenagers with so many other responsibilities, there was only so much they could do. maglor, on the other hand, is an experienced adult who could take much better care of the twins

and...

first off, it’s not like mags doesn’t have a job. he’s a warlord, he has a fortress to help run, military shit to handle, lots of other stuff that needs to get done to stop everyone from starving or getting eaten by orcs. i feel like sirion had enough of a government there was plenty of opportunity for elwing to take days off and play with her kids, but in the fëanorian camp nobody really has the time to chase after a couple of toddlers, least of all one of the last points on the command network. they just don’t have the people any more

(seriously, the twins getting a formal education with tutors and classes and shit is a weirdly specific pet peeve of mine. this is a band of renegades, not a royal household; if there’s anyone left with those kinds of skills they almost certainly have more important things to do)

more than that, though - well, a quick glance through my late stage fëanorians tag should tell you a lot about what i think maglor’s mental state is like at this point. he is so accustomed to violence death means nothing to him, he’s lost most of his capacity for genuinely positive emotion to an endless century of defeat and despair, he hates everything in the universe, especially himself, he’s only able to keep functioning through a truly astounding amount of denial, and he covers it all up with a layer of snark and feigned apathy, which he defends aggressively because he’s subconsciously realised that if it breaks he’ll have absolutely nothing left

(maedhros, for the record, is... i’d say more stable, but at a lower point. maglor may interact with the world mostly through cold stares and mocking laughter, but at least his mind is firmly rooted in the present)

(on the other hand, at least maedhros lets himself be aware of what they are and where their road will lead)

which... this doesn’t mean maglor doesn’t try to be kind to the twins, or rein in his worst impulses around them

there’s just so little of him left but the weapon

he stalks through the halls like a portent of death and gets into hours-long screaming matches with maedhros and has definitely killed people in front of the twins

not even as, like, a deliberate attempt to scare them, but because when you solve most of your problems by stabbing them it’s pretty much a given that people who spend a lot of time around you are going to see you do it at least once

and sometimes, he curls up in an empty hallway, and weeps

... suffice it to say i don’t think elwing’s the more preoccupied, or the less mentally ill, parent here

just. in general, the fëanorians aren’t cackling boogeymen, but they’re not particularly nice either

no one has the energy left for that. not these isolated and weary soldiers at the end of a long losing war and the beginning of the end of the world. they don’t really bother to guard the kids against them escaping. where else are they going to go?

the sheer despair that must have been in the fëanorian camp after sirion, the knowledge that the cause cannot be fulfilled, that they are utterly forsaken, that they’re really just waiting to die -

it can’t have been a happy place to grow up in, under the shadow of loss and grief and deeds unrepentable, and the slow march of inevitable defeat

they would have had a better childhood if they stayed in sirion, raised by people who knew how to hope

but that isn’t the childhood they had. and despite everything i’ve said, i don’t think that childhood was an entirely awful one

yeah, see, this is where the other side of my self-inflicted fandom catch-22 comes in. just as much of the pro-kidnap dads stuff comes off as overly saccharine and simplified to me, i find much of the anti-kidnap dads stuff equally simplistic in the opposite direction

the idea that maglor and the fëanorians never meant anything to elros and elrond, that they had no effect on the people they became at all, that it was just a horrible thing that happened when they were children, easily thrown in the rear-view mirror...

that’s even more impossible to me than the idea that life with the fëanorians was 100% fluffy and nice

like, i’ve seen the take that elros and elrond hated the fëanorians from start to finish. they were perfect little sindarin princes, loyal to their people and the memory of doriath, spurning every scrap of kindness offered to them and knowing just what to say to twist the knife into the kinslayers’ wounds

... dude. they were six. hell, given their peredhelness, mentally they could easily have been younger

what six year old has a firm grasp of their ethnic identity? what six year old is fully aware of their place in history? what six year old would understand the politics that led to their situation?

don’t get me wrong, i can see hatred in there. but something else that doesn’t get acknowledged alongside it often enough is the fear

some of the stuff i’ve read feels like it gives the kids too much power in the situation. they’re perfectly happy to talk back to and belittle the people who burned down their hometown and killed everyone they ever knew, like miniature adults who don’t feel threatened at all

and, like, six. i can see them going for insults as a defensive measure, but it is defensive. it’s covering up fear, not coming from secure disdain

(and a lot of those insults sound, again, like things an adult who’s already familiar with the fëanorians would say, not a scared child who’s lost almost everything. why would a six year old raised by sindar and gondolindrim know what the noldolantë is, let alone what it means to maglor?)

(... i’m just ranting about this one fic that’s been ruffling my feathers for five years straight now, aren’t i)

i mean, i write elrond as the world’s angriest teenager, who snipes at maglor pretty much constantly, but the thing about angry teenage elrond is that he’s angry teenage elrond

he’s spent long enough with the fëanorians he has a pretty secure position within the camp, and he knows that maglor won’t hurt him from a decade and change of maglor not, in fact, hurting him

but as a small and terrified child abducted by the monsters his mother had nightmares about? he fluctuated wildly between ‘randomly guessing at things to say that wouldn’t get him killed’ ‘screaming at maglor to go away in words rarely more complicated than that’ 'desperately trying not to do or say anything in the hopes of not being noticed’ and ‘hiding’

(and i don’t think the twins were never in any danger from the fëanorians, either. quite besides the point that before they started orbiting maglor nobody was really sure what to do with them... well, they wouldn’t be the first children of thingol’s line the minions took revenge on)

(fortunately for them, maglor did, in fact, take them under his wing. by this point even their own followers are shit scared of the last two sons of fëanor, nobody’s going to mess with their stuff and risk getting mauled. tactically, it was a pretty good decision for a couple of toddlers)

more to the point, i feel like a child that young, in a situation that horrible, wouldn’t reject any kindness they were offered, any soothing touch in a universe of terror

in a world full of big scary monsters, the best way to survive is to get the biggest scariest monster possible to protect you. that’s how elros rationalises it when they’re, like, eight, mentally, but at the time they were just latching on to the only person around them who seemed to care about them

that’s how it started, on their end. two very young very scared children lost in a neverending nightmare clinging tightly to the lone outstretched pair of hands

as for maglor...

i’ve called mags evil before, but i see that as more of a... technical term? he is evil because he did the murder, he remains evil because he won’t stop doing the murder. hot take: murder bad

but that doesn’t make him, like, a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon villain. he is deeply unhappy with the position he’s in and the person he’s become, and he’s always trying not to take that final step over the edge

it’s not that i can’t see a maglor who is abusive or manipulative or who sees the twins more as objects than people. it’s just that that characterisation is one i am profoundly uninterested in. i do occasionally read fic with it, but it never enters my own headcanons

horrible people can do good things!! kinslayers can do good things!! the fallen are capable of humanity!! people can do both good and evil things at the same time, because people are complicated!! maglor is not psychologically incapable of actually taking pity on these kids!!!!

it’s... again, complexity. the fëanorians straddle the line between black and white, which is a lot less sharp in the legendarium than it’s sometimes characterised as. it’s what draws me to their characters so much, why i have so many stupid headcanons about them. pretending they fall firmly on either side of the line is my real fandom pet peeve

and, like, this moment? this sincere connection between a bloodstained warlord and two children who will grow up to be great and kind in equal measure? i may not entirely like the direction the fandom’s taken it recently, but that beat, that relationship, it still gets me

so no, i don’t think elrond and elros’ years with the fëanorians were an endless cavalcade of abuse and misery. i think there was love there, despite the darkness all around them

an old, tired monster, and the two tiny children it protects

maglor never hurts the twins, not ever, not once. his claws are sharp and his fangs are keen, if he so much as swatted them he’d rip them in half. instead he folds down the razor edges of his being, interacting with them ever so carefully. he has nightmares of suddenly tearing into their skin

seriously, the power differential between them is so great, maglor so much as raising his voice would break any trust they have in this horribly dangerous creature. fics where he does corporal punishment always get the side-eye from me

the mood of their relationship is... i find it hard to put into words. melancholy, maybe, like a sunny afternoon a few days before the end of the world. three people who’ve lost so much finding what respite they can in each other as the world slowly crumbles around them

there are times when it feels like the three of them exist in a world of their own, marked out by the edges of the firelight. maglor telling stories of the stars, elros giving relaxed irreverent commentary, elrond getting a few moments to just be, all their troubles kept at bay

they are the last two lights in a world sunk into darkness, the last two living beings he does not on some level hate. he will tear his own heart out before he sees them in pain

he teaches them to ride, he teaches them to read, he gives them everything he still has left. the twins should never have been in this situation, maglor probably isn’t entirely fit to take care of them, but it is what it is, and they take what love they can

(maglor depends on the twins emotionally a bit more than any adult should rely on any child. he’s still very much the caretaker in their relationship, but that relationship is the only one he has left that’s not stained by a century of rage and grief. he’s obsessed with them, maedhros tells him frequently. maglor’s standard response to this is to try to gouge maedhros’ eyes out)

(that particular darker side to their relationship, where maglor’s attachment to the twins turns into a desperate possessiveness - that’s not something i think i’ve ever seen in fic. which is a shame, it feels much closer to my own characterisation than the standard ways this relationship gets maleficised. darker, in a different way than usual. horribly compelling in its plausibility)

however you want to read it, i don’t think you can deny this is a relationship that defines elrond and elros’ childhood. they were raised in the woods by a pack of kinslayers, the text is quite clear on this

but i’ve seen a lot of talk about how elros and elrond are only sirion’s children. they are completely 100% sindarin, they love and forgive eärendil and elwing thoroughly and without question, they identify with doriath over - even gondolin, let alone tirion. the fëanorians - the people who raised them - had zero effect on the people they grew into and the selves they created

and that, more than anything else, i find utterly unbelievable

look, i get what this is a reaction to. a lot of the kidnap dads stuff paints the fëanorians as elrond and elros’ ‘real’ family, and i’ve already talked about what i think of the idea that maglor-and-possibly-also-maedhros were better parents than eärendil and elwing. i think it’s reductive and overly optimistic and just a little too neat

but to say instead that elrond and elros held no great love in their hearts for maglor, no lingering affinity with the fëanorians, no influence on their identity from the people they grew up around, none at all? that after it happened they just left it behind and resumed being the same people they were in sirion?

that strikes me as just as much an oversimplification. it sands down all the potential rough edges of their identity, all that inconvenient complexity that stops them from fitting into any well-defined box, and replaces it with a nice safe simple self-conception i find just as flat and boring as declaring them 100% fëanorian

we can quibble over who they call ‘father’ (i personally find that whole debate kinda petty) but denying that it was actually maglor who was the closest thing they knew to a parent for most of their childhoods, and that that would, in fact, affect the way they thought of themselves and their family, elides so many interesting possibilities out of existence

(i’m not even going to get into the most braindead take i have ever heard on the subject, namely that because their time with the fëanorians was such a small fraction of elrond’s total lifespan it was like being kidnapped for two weeks as a toddler and had no greater significance than that. do you not understand what childhood is????)

like, i tend to think of elrond as a child as being very loudly not-a-fëanorian. elros is more willing to go with the flow - hey, if the creepy kinslayer wants kids, elros is happy to play into that in order to not be murdered - but elrond is very firm that he’s not happy to be here and he doesn’t belong with them

(this is after they get over their initial terror, of course, when they’ve realised they won’t be fed to the orcs for the tiniest slight. even so, elrond only really gets shirty about it around people he’s comfortable with, whose reactions he can reasonably guess at. naturally, the first person he does it to is maglor)

elros calls maglor their father exactly once, when they’re... maybe early preteens? this is because elrond hears him do it and immediately loses his shit. they have a dad, elrond says, in tears, and a mum, and any day now their real parents are going to come to pick them up and take them home

... right?

it gets harder to believe as the years roll on, as their memories of sirion fade, as they find their own places within the host, as maglor watches over them as they grow. elrond still mentally sets himself apart from the fëanorians, but it’s more of an effort every year. life in the fëanorian camp is the only one he’s ever really known. he can barely remember his mother’s voice

then the war of wrath starts, and the fëanorian host drifts closer to the army of valinor, and the twins come into contact with non-fëanorians for the first time in forever, and it becomes clear just how obviously fëanorian elrond is. he always insisted he wasn’t like the kinslayers at all, but he dresses like them, talks like them, fights like them

the myth cycles the edain tell are almost completely unfamiliar to him, he barely remembers the shape of the songs of lost doriath. even these sarcastic commentary and subversive reinterpretations he made of maglor’s stories - those were still maglor’s stories! he’s been trying to guess at the person he was meant to be, but it’s growing nightmarishly blatant how little elrond ever knew about him

instead, the people he was born to are as alien to him as the orcs of morgoth. he is a fëanorian, through and through

... yeah, elrond (and/or elros) having an absolutely massive identity crisis upon being reintroduced to his quote-unquote ‘true kin’ is another angle i’d love to see in fic that i don’t think i’ve ever come across. all those potential grey areas around who they are and who they’re supposed to be sound utterly fascinating, and i think it’s the complexity i hate to see elided over the most

i really, really doubt they could effortlessly slot back into being eärendil and elwing’s children. not when they’ve been surrounded by, lived alongside, been raised by the people who were supposed to enemies for most of their lives

they just don’t fit into that box any more. they can’t

speaking of eärendil and elwing, while i do agree that they both (especially elwing) get a lot more flak than they deserve, i don’t agree that therefore elrond and elros were never the slightest bit mad at them and fully forgave them for everything with no reservations

because, well, they were left behind. elwing had no other choice, but they were still left behind; it led to the world being saved, but they were still left behind. all the best intentions in the universe don’t erase the weeks and months and years of waiting, of a hope that grew thinner and frailer until it finally quietly broke

that’s a real hurt, and a real grievance. even if the twins rationally understand that their parents were making the best out of their terrible situation, you can’t logic away emotions like that. it’s perfectly possible for them to know they have no reason to resent eärendil or elwing, and yet still harbour that bitterness and pain

(i did write a thing once where elrond loudly rejects eärendil as his father in favour of maglor, but something i didn’t add in that i probably should have is that elrond later regretted doing that)

(not like, several centuries later, when he’d grown old and wise. two hours later, when he’d calmed down. but he was still legitimately angry at eärendil, because the one thing angry teenage elrond was not lacking in was reasons to be mad at the adults around him, and before he could figure out if he had anything less furious to say the hosts of the valar left middle-earth behind)

(it’s another element to the tragedy of the whole thing. in that particular story, which is mostly aiming for maximum pain, the only thing elrond’s birth parents know about their son for thousands of years is that he hates them)

(and he doesn’t, not really. you can’t hate someone you’ve never known)

not that i think they couldn’t ever make up with their parents! fics where elrond and his birth parents work past all the things that lie between them and form a functional familial bond despite it all give me life. i just don’t like the idea that there’s nothing difficult for them to work past

i don’t like the idea that elrond and elros would naturally, effortlessly identify with the mother they last saw when they were six and the people they only vaguely remember. i can see them doing it as a political move, i can see them going for it as a deliberate personal choice, but i can’t seeing it being immediate and automatic and easy

no matter how great a pair of heroes eärendil and elwing are, that doesn’t change the fact that to elrond and elros, they’re at most a few scattered memories and a collection of far-off stories. and so long as the twins stay in middle-earth, they’re never going to draw any closer

compared to the dynamic, multifaceted, personal, and deep bonds they have with the fëanorians - who, and i know i keep saying this but i think it gets tossed aside way more casually than it should, are the people who actually raised them, their birth parents must feel like a distant idea

and that’s why i can never buy interpretations of elrond as 100% sindarin, a pure son of doriath, with no messy grey areas or awkward jagged edges to his identity. given everything we know about his life, it seems almost cartoonishly simplistic

honestly it seems like a narrative a bunch of old doriathrin nobles trying to manouevre elrond into being high king of the sindar or something would propagate. it's neat and nice and tidy, something that’d be much more convenient for everyone if elrond did feel that way

but i just don’t see how he can. this narrative is easy and simple in a way real people never are, it ignores all the forces pulling him apart. elrond being uncomplicatedly sindarin with the life he lives and the people he's close to - that doesn’t make any sense to me

which isn’t to say i think he’s 100% noldorin, from either a gondolindrim or a fëanorian perspective. (i find it a little more believable, given, again, who he grew up around and who he hangs out with, but it’s still a bit too reductive for my tastes.) it’s also not to say i couldn’t believe an elrond who made an active choice to emphasise his sindarin heritage

it’s not how i think of him, but it works. i don’t have a problem with other people interpreting the complexities of the twins’ identities differently

i just have a problem with people acting like it doesn’t exist

in general i think there’s a lot untapped potential that gets left behind when you declare the twins, separately or together, as All One Thing

they’re descended from half the noble houses of beleriand, and they have deep personal ties to most of the rest. they belong to all of the free peoples even the dwarves, somehow, probably and i feel like that was kind of the old man’s point? so many peoples meet in them, to say they wholly belong to any one species is probably an oversimplification

they sit at a crossroads of potential identities, and rather than narrowing down their worldviews to one single path, they take the hard road and choose all of them. that’s what you need to do, if you want to change the world

and, to bring this back to my ostensible topic, in my estimation at least this mélange of possible selves does include them as fëanorians! it’s not overpowering, but it’s certainly there, and the adults they grow into long after they’ve left the host still bear influence from their childhood

nothing super obvious, nothing that wouldn’t stand out if you didn’t know what to look for, but there’s something almost incandescent in how fiercely elros reaches out for his dreams

there’s something almost defiant in elrond’s drive to be as kind as summer

as for who they publically claim as their family... honestly, it depends. while it’s usually more tactically prudent for elros to connect himself to his various human ancestors, on occasion he does find a use for his free in with the elf mafia, and elrond, code switcher par excellence, is famously the son of whoever is most politically convenient at the moment, which is rarely, but not never, maglor

(in the privacy of their own minds, well, eärendil and elwing may have been the parents elros was supposed to have, but maglor was the parent he actually had, and elros doesn’t particularly care to mope over what might have been. elrond, for his part, figures that after all the shit maglor has put him through, the least that bastard owes him is a father)

but honestly? i think before any of their mountain of identities, before thinking of themselves as sindarin or gondolindel or hadorian or haladin or fëanorian or anything, elrond and elros identify as themselves

they are peredhil, they are númenóreans, they are whoever they make themselves to be. that’s how elrond finally resolved his identity, figured out who he was and found something past the pain and the rage

he wasn’t doriathrin, or gondolindrin, or falathrin, or fëanorian, or whatever else. he was elrond, no more and no less

and that person, elrond, could be whatever he chose to be

... elros came to a similar conclusion, with much less sturm und drang that he’s willing to admit. being able to go ‘hey, i can’t possibly be biased towards any one of your cultures, because i’m descended from all of you and i was raised by murderelves’ makes it a lot easier to unite people around your personal banner, turns out

the stories other people tried to force on them shattered into pieces, and the peredhel twins were free to shape themselves into anything they could dream of

and as the new world struggles alive, these lost children of an Age of death begin to bloom into their full glorious selves -

i just. i love the poetry of that. despite every single shadow that hangs over their past, despite all the clashing notes pulling them apart, they harmonise it all into a greater, kinder theme, determined to make their world a better place in whatever way they can

they fail, of course, but so do all things. the inevitable march of entropy doesn’t diminish the long millennia they (and their descendants) held onto the light

and their growing up in the fëanorian host definitely had a huge effect on the noble lords they became. you can see it in elros’ loud ambition to create a land of happiness and hope, elrond’s quiet resolve to heal all the hurts inflicted by this marred reality

it wasn’t a perfect time by any means, but neither was it a nightmare. it was what it was, a desperate existence at the edge of a knife where, nevertheless, they were loved

even after years upon decades upon centuries have passed, it’s hard for the wise king and the honourable sage to separate out and identify all the conflicting emotions swirling around their childhood. they never knew eärendil or elwing, true, but they also never really knew maglor

not as equals, not as adults, not as people who could truly understand him. he disappeared into the fog of history, leaving only childhood memories of razor-sharp, gentle hands

it’s messy and it’s complicated and getting any real closure would be like shoving their way through a thornbush with bare hands even if elrond could find the shithead, and yet at the core of it all, there is light. not the brightest of lights, maybe, but an enduring one

that contrast, above all, that note of warmth amidst the shadows, is what fascinates me so much about their relationship. three screwed up people in a screwed up world, finding a little peace with each other

and the fact that somehow, it does have a good ending - the children grow up magnificent and compassionate and just, they become exemplars of all their peoples, lodestars of the new world born out of the ashes of the old - that makes it seem to me like this relationship must have contained some fragment of happiness

but, fuck, all the darkness that surrounds that love, all the tangled-up emotions its existence necessitates, all the prefabricated self-identities it can never slot into - nothing about it is simple, nothing about it is easy, and i find that utterly enthralling. especially how, despite everything, that flickering light never goes out

well, i don’t think it does, anyway. my take on this relationship is both complicated enough no one else ever quite gets it right and well-defined enough every single ‘error’ in other people’s interpretations sticks out like a kinslayer in rivendell

it is an entirely self-inflicted problem, i will admit. other people are allowed to interpret those complexities differently from me, and it’s entirely my own fault i lack the :waves hands around nebulously: to write my own hypothetical fic on the subject at a pace faster than glacial

still, though. i do wish there was more fic out there that engaged with these complexities. a lot of the common fandom interpretations of this relationship just sweep it all away

[reikeip]

Crossroad ♱ Chaos 5

Location: Underground Livehouse

Kuro: Yep, yep. ‘Kay, you’re gonna eat at your friend’s house today.

…… That friend of yours ain’t a guy, right?

Ya want me to come pick you up when you’re done playing? You’re alright? 'S that right? Their family’ll give ya a ride home… Yeah, got it.

Guess your friend would be scared if a tough lookin’ guy like me came to pick ya up, anyways. Call me if ya need anything, yea?

See ya, make sure you come home before it gets too late.

(... Nn~ lil’ sis has been actin’ cold lately. Is this what they call a rebellious phase?)

(Well, at least she’s gotten better at talkin’ than right after mom died.)

(She’s got her own life to lead, so it wouldn’t be good if I interrupted that too much.)

(Haha. She told me something like “Why don’t you play with your friends, Aniki”, but I don’t got any real friends I can just call up on the spot.)

(If I had to call someone that, it’d be Morisawa. But if people saw us gettin’ along it might be troublesome for him.

(Good grief. Honestly I’m startin’ to think enrolling at this school was a mistake. Even though I’m a second year, I still don’t fit in.)

(Yeah it’s better than middle school, where I hung out with some dangerous guys and got up to some bad things, so…)

(I guess it’s much better to be a loner if it means I can’t hurt anybody.)

Kaoru: Heyyy, Kiryuu-kun ♪

Woah woah, why are you hanging out here? You look pretty bummed~ Did you get rejected by a girl you like or something?

Kuro: … Hakaze. Well, you’re mostly right.

Kaoru: I see. Poor guy~ If you weren’t a large and tough male, I’d be comforting you right now, Kiryuu-kun ♪

Kuro: I don’t want that anyways. Don’t talk to me, shoo.

Kaoru : Uwah, driving me away like I’m some stray dog… I’m being hated~ But, personally, I’d prefer to get on good terms with you.

If Kiryuu-kun was my bodyguard, my safety at school would be totally covered.

Kuro: Look somewhere else. I’m not gonna hang out with anyone.

Kaoru: Yep, it’s specifically because you're a man’s man that I wanted you. But that’s fine, it isn’t like I plan on getting involved in what’s going on at school anyways.

More importantly, are you free right now, Kiryuu-kun? An acquaintance of mine seems to be singing at the underground livehouse, so wanna go check it out?

C'mon, it’ll be my treat. It’s rare for me to pay for a guy, you know~♪

Kuro: Hmm… My plans did fall through, so pissin’ away some time with you sounds fine.

I hear a pretty energetic voice singing. Hey, is that Morisawa?

Kaoru: Morisawa? Who?

Well anyways, if you have some time to spare, come with me.

Contrary to the idol department of Yumenosaki Academy, both men and women are allowed in the underground livehouse~ So maybe there’ll be a delightful encounter ♪

Location: Underground Livehouse

Kaoru: Goodness… this is even more of an uproar than I thought it would be.

(What’s with this? The crowd is so big it’s almost impossible to move…)

(If I got stuck close to a girl I’d welcome it, but as far as I can tell the crowd’s mostly dudes. This is a whole new kinda hell.)

( Eh? Something smells pleasant…?)

Kuro: H-hey, Hakaze? Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?

Kaoru: (Sniff sniff… This is a kind of smell you can't maintain unless you wash your hair diligently, day in and day out. I’m sure it’s a beautiful, neat and tidy Japanese beauty ♪)

Souma: …? Dost thou want something?

Kaoru: Thaaat’s a guy~...? Am I losing my sense of smell here?

Souma: W-why such blatant deject? Art thou unwell? Thy face does seem pallid…

This crowd is thick; art thou sick?

If thou wouldst wish it, I’ll see thee out ♪

Kaoru: Ah~ sorry, but can you stop talking to me?

You're right that I’m not feeling well, but it's just ‘cause I expected a delightful encounter, so I was kind of betrayed y’feel~?

Souma: I beg pardon? Explain so that I may understand!

Hath my strange behavior given to your displeasure?

Kaoru: Eh, why do you keep approaching me so strongly…

I’m not interested in men, so die and reincarnate as a beautiful woman, then you can come back. Bye-bye~ ♪

Souma: Rather thou didst approach me! You ill-bred rogue!

...Woah?

Kuro: Ah, my bad. Seems I bumped right into ya. ...Ain’t hurt, right?

Souma: Ah, thou art the gentleman I did see before…

Step aside, I must to enact judgement ‘pon that insolent man. To back down after being made a fool, that would be dishonor to the Kanzaki clan!

Kuro: Dunno what’s exactly goin’ on, but you should try and calm down. It’s pretty chaotic as is ‘cause of some situation, and not to mention crowded.

If someone goes actin’ all violent without being settled, then no way no one’s gonna get hurt.

Hold up, how the hell did things get like this in the first place?

Souma: Alas… Even I know not the reason. As swiftly as that honorable man ascended to this scene, it transformed into the most furious of crucibles.

I feel as though a tsunami has swallowed me whole.

Kuro: Honorable man, ya say… Well, if it ain’t Sakuma.

Rei: ♪~♪~♪

Kuro: (Dunno why, but he sure is singin’ like he’s havin’ the time of his life. What are you, the school’s superstar, doing frolicking around in a run-down district like this…?)

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Collaboration with: ciel

[paleontaxi]

Cora’s approach to goodness is interesting, to say the least, different, how she views it as more than a culmination of a person’s actions.  Most people would say that if you do bad things, you are a bad person, and that is how Jarod has felt about it, too.  He has never thought of himself as particularly good, even before Lola’s death.  He wasn’t awful, maybe, but he never went out of his way to do good by anyone other than Lola.  He was never accommodating or kind to strangers outside of where he had to be for work.  He was never there for people, and as such, he ended up with no one there for him until Cora came along.

Jarod has viewed his entire life as a grave he dug for himself.  With everything that has happened to him, he has thought of it as something that could have been avoided if not for one of his own shortcomings.  There are always other people to be blamed, his ex-wife for leaving him, the Brigades and Sonya for Lola’s death.  However, he still feels responsible and knows he cannot put the blame entirely on others.  No, he has never thought of himself as a good person because he would have an easier time keeping people around if he was.

Those feelings have only worsened over the past ten years, now that he is actively doing the wrong thing instead of neglecting to do the right one.  While his inaction before did not make him a good person, his action nowadays must make him a bad one.  Society agrees, and they would arrest him if word about his activities got out.

Cora doesn’t see things that way, though.  She sees more to him than just the things he has done.  She takes the intentions and emotions behind them into account, even though he is not sure she should. He does not think he deserves that kind of consideration, not after all the lives he has ended and ruined, but he has never been able to convince her of that, and… he is grateful for it.  He needed the chances she has given him, regardless of whether he has deserved any of them.  She can try to say he did it all for himself, but if she had never stuck her neck out for him, he never would have gotten better.  She is the one who made him believe that goodness was more than what he initially thought, and he realized he still had a spark of it left in him because of her.

He has never wanted to hurt her, not even once from the day they met, when he stood in that hotel room, wringing his hands and telling her that he did not do stuff like this often.  That was the nice way to say it had been an eternity since he had last fucked anyone.  Perhaps it was that concern over what she might think of him (seeing as how it isn’t exactly like riding a bike and you do forget a few things), an apologetic sort of consideration that she might not get from everyone, that made her see something soft in him.  He was clearly not there to do any harm, just assuage his loneliness.

He had no way of knowing that his loneliness would be beaten back for more than that one night, that Cora would become a more permanent fixture in his life.  Moreover, the light she has brought him by being here has changed him, smoothed over at least some of that grief, some of that rage.

When she pulls her hand away from him, he does not push it.  Seeing her being the shy one for a change is a bit funny.  When he first met her, she was bold and sassy, and she still is, of course.  But now, he sees deeper into the core of her person, past the exaggerated front she wore for work.  She is so soft, much more than anyone might expect, but not weak, just gentle and loving.

“Humility’s not a good look on you,” he jests, laughter in his warm, dark eyes.  He leans forward to better read Cora’s expression behind the curtain of dark waves.  “You gotta take credit where it’s owed to you.  Never thought I’d have to tell you that.”  Cora made it pretty far in life on her own; she was savvy, making sure she never got cheated out of shit.

He leans back, looks down at his dinosaur, and pushes some of its purple fur, which dinosaurs are not supposed to have, out of its eyes.  Then, he shakes his head.  “I didn’t know where to start.  I was drowning and couldn’t tell which way was up until you pulled me out, so just…”  He smacks his stuffed dinosaur against her arm.  “...accept the damn compliment, will you?”

Jarod did not know what he was going to do if and when he ever finished his plans for revenge.  He likely would have shot himself—end of the line.  But now, more chapters have been added to his story, chapters including Cora, and he wants to see them through to the end.  “Trust me, if left to my own devices, I know myself well enough to say I never would have pulled this off.”

a smile graces her lips , soft around edges as a warm light seems to spark behind blue hues as they traced around the other's features ; the sharpness of his cheeks , the shadow of his stubble that peppered across his jaw , the rich brown that seemed to match the the booze that he drinks , bringing the same layer of comfort that came from a shot of his regular order - he's come a long , long way from when they first met - his growth , being around to witness him pull himself together , to have the strength to lift himself from the ground &. see that the world wasn't just bad , that light existed along the dark , has certainly been a privilege ; something she'll be thinking about for the rest of her life .

the more jarod &. her began to connect , in ways that were certainly unprofessional on her part , she knew he was one of the good ones , he had done horrible things ; who hasn't ? he was another example of trauma taking control ; of grief warping someone's sense of self , sending them into autopilot . it didn't make him bad , it made him human , so painfully , wonderfully human . it put on display how much he truly cared , how deeply he loved &. so fiercely loyal . humans were both the most strongest &. fragile things on earth , coraline thinks those two words describe him perfectly .

cause of you . oh. then, i met you .

❛ oh ❜

there's a slight widen in eyes , unable to stop herself from staring ; waiting for the punchline that must be on the tip of his tongue , yet … nothing , the sincerity of the confession that had her breath hitching , the conviction paired with the truth that lingered behind his eyes .

a pale dust of pink quickly forms , starting from the bridge of freckled nose all the way to her matching cheeks . she hates how she can feel the heat radiating from her , how the room seemed to grow hotter with the emotions that bubbled in chest ; she's embarrassed , bewildered , nervous - all while a burst of happiness seems to explode from inside out . she isn't sure why it sparks something to life that was buried deep inside her chest , but it did &. she'd be more than happy for it to go back to sleep .

she fails to see the hand that reaches for her , palm that was once on the floor was brought back towards herself , it wasn't intentional , a quick action born of emotions that seemed to overtake her . instead , opting to fiddle with the plastic dinosaur she had picked up in idle while they spoke ; an ankylosaurus , one of her favourites . she moves the tail side to side , pad of thump tracing the bolder at the end .

the notion of helping people … it was still somewhat new to her . she had grown up a lot , but there was still much self nurturing that was needed ; parts she wasn't at all ready for , pieces of herself to put out there that she didn't even want to acknowledge in herself yet . however she did her best to put good out in the world in what little ways she can ; mostly through her work , being there for others when they allow her ( when she could allow herself to push that little bit further ) , small day to day actions when the dark cloud was easier to navigate . doing the small things to stay in tuned with her humanity , with a soul she knows she has that was perhaps was a little darker than most ; with people , it was crucial that she did . but she never thought she was capable of doing what jarod was now claiming .

❛ i … hope you know , that … wasn't me ❜ heart beats wildly in chest , she feels it in her ears ; voice uncharacteristically low , the confidence melting away as she fought against speaking too loud , to avoid shouting over the ocean of blood that was making itself known between eyes ❛ it was you . if even the smallest piece of you didn't want to … open up , or - feel like that again - you wouldn't have ❜ she's finding it hard to keep her focus on jarod , he seems too bright - near blinding ❛ you might have needed me to kick you in the arse a little ... ❜ a small chuckle , an handful of curls falling in front of face as head dips down for a moment ❛ but … this ? it's all you , tiger ❜ and it's one of the reasons why she's developed some subconscious habits involving him ; how she looks at him the way she does , the way she lingers when they're around each other , how her mind drifts to him , searching for him even when she knows he's nowhere near ; somehow , coraline remains blissfully unaware of the things that make her feel so intertwined with him .

[cdroloisms]

uhhhh ,, , hi ??

i feel bad bc i havent been here in. LITERALLY forever lmao - hope you guys r all doing good!! ive been working on some stuff but it’s been pretty slow going, and school is also A Thing, so i definitely havent been writing as much as i’d like. 

as an apology, have this? really self-indulgent feel-good syndicate + c!dream centric oneshot bc i felt like writing this so u know. why not. 

tws: implied torture, abuse, self-harm, disordered eating, starvation mentions, prison arc themes - overall everything’s just blink-and-you’ll-miss-it mentions, not too much angst here for once! c!sam and c!quackity critical, sorry guys but we r still in the prison arc and they still r on their “fuck human rights” arcs. 

Dream leaves.

 It’s a surprise - or maybe it isn’t one, Niki isn’t quite sure. She’d never grown to quite trust the man, she knows, and she can’t really tell if the bitter twist of emotion that swells up her chest when Phil comes to her city with the news is betrayal or resignation - what can she say. She’s gotten more than her fair share of broken promises. They don’t exactly faze her anymore. 

 None of them seem all that surprised, save Techno, who entirely fails to hide the worry that flickers over his face when he calls the Syndicate meeting to officially inform them of what’s going on. She shares quick, careful glances with the other members when his back is turned - despite how many times he’s been burned, Techno still seems so adamant at holding onto every thread, trusting all too easily those who would use and leave him behind without a second glance. He can handle himself, she knows. Still, that’s not going to stop her from slapping Dream upside the head for being yet another worthless person to betray her friend’s forgiving nature. 

 Nothing much changes in the next few weeks. Niki has to admit, it’s strange without Dream around - he’d not been an ally, much less a friend before dipping completely, but he had been some sort of constant - and Niki is self aware enough to know that she misses him, a little, the same sort of way you might miss an old routine once it’s gone, if only for the familiarity. She still visits Techno and Phil with various baked goods, knowing that Phil would have his hands full just keeping Techno from running himself ragged - makes sure to check on Ranboo, whose nerves have inevitably returned with Dream’s disappearance. To be honest, she doesn’t worry as much as he does - ally or not, she’s spent enough time with the Dream that had left prison to expect that he won’t exactly be able to get himself very far should he come for the four of them, and doesn’t particularly care about he might pull with the rest of the server - if things get bad, she’s sure Phil and Techno will have it handled. She asks Phil, once, what happened, and he shrugs. 

 “I don’t know, mate,” he heaves a chest to the side, pulling out a stack of stone blocks that Niki gladly holds for him. “One day we woke up and he was just- gone. Everything. Was like he wasn’t ever there at all.” 

 Niki hums. “Why’d you think he’d do something like that?” 

 “If I could understand half of why Dream does what he does, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now, would we?” He smiles at her from behind a crate. “Shall we bring these things upstairs and start on dinner?” 

 Niki laughs, knowing that the conversation about Dream is over. “Of course, Phil.” 

Dinner is a welcome distraction; all of them have gotten better at cooking in recent months, between her baking and the veritable library of recipes Phil knows that she’s never even heard of, but Phil is still the only one she really trusts to hold his own behind the stove - Ranboo is still a little too nervous around water, and fire, and much of everything, and though Techno can be a perfectly capable cook, he’s been distracted as of late. She has a strong feeling that left to his own devices, he’d just grab a stack of steak and disappear for another few weeks, searching the server for information. 

 Honestly, she’s a little thrown off by his behavior - he’d not done anything like this with Tommy, if she remembers right, and had hardly seemed affected by Wilbur’s betrayal on the Sixteenth at all (then again, she was a little too lost in her own head to notice if he was.) She tosses her head over to ask Phil, who’s leaning over a few carrots he’s slicing to throw into the stew he’s making, and the man pauses, frowns. 

 “From what I know,” he starts, words slow, careful, “they’d spent three months in there together, and the conditions weren’t exactly- stellar. According to what Techno said, I’d assumed they had come to some sort of understanding.” He goes back to the carrots, expression dipping into shadow and out of sight. “Guess I was wrong.” 

 Niki hums. She can see it, sort of - spending months together with someone, no matter how insufferable, probably would end with some degree of attachment - she thinks back to plotting through sleepless nights with Jack, anger and grief leaving them simmering, crabs in the same pot of boiling water, remembers looking into his dead-eyed gaze and seeing her own stare back - and feels a brief pang of guilt. Besides, Techno is Techno. She’d never met someone so willing to forgive, understand, reach out despite everything that’s happened - for Dream to take advantage of that feels almost too obvious. Of course he would - what were they all thinking?

 “He’s Dream,” she says as if that explains everything, flipping open the oven door and feeling a wave of heat blast her face. Phil hums lowly, understanding. “I hope Techno will be alright.” 

 “He’s tough,” Phil cracks a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “And he has us on his side. He’ll get through.” 

 Niki opens her mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by the front door slamming open. Outside their quaint little cottage, the wind howls - it sounds like the beginning of a blizzard out there, flurries painting the world in a thick blanket of white. In the door, Techno strides into the entrance with loud, decisive movements, shutting the door loud enough to make the walls shake. Inadvertently, Niki finds her eyes drawn to the small pile of snow that he’s tracked into the house - Techno’s usually so careful to kick it all off on the porch, never liked it much when there was a pile of melting ice and snow dampening the floorboards and soaking into his shoes. He huffs harshly, stripping off a snow-dusted scarf from his face - a long, multicolored abomination that had been the product of her attempting to teach Ranboo how to knit. Phil has reached his side, hands splayed over his upper arms, eyes soft in the corners from concern. 

 “Techno, mate-” his tone is chiding but his movements gentle as he brushes snow off of Techno’s signature cloak, “you’ve gotten snow everywhere. What were you doing, dueling a blizzard?” 

 Techno shakes his head, not meeting Phil’s banter as usual, fur sticking up from the snow melted into it. His voice is gruff and holds little humor - unconsciously, Niki feels her shoulders tense. 

 “Phil, call a Syndicate meeting.”

 ---

 Phil, per usual, is unrelenting, so it’s not until a quick dinner and some hurried messages to their final member later that the Syndicate is gathered in their meeting room, Techno pacing the length of the room as they wait in their respective seats. He looks less frazzled than he did when he first entered the house, in part due to Phil’s sitting him down to eat and picking through his fur to smooth it out of its windblown spikes and tangles - Techno had grumbled at him to stop preening him, but looked a lot more relaxed by the time they were all finished with their food. Still, his ear flicks periodically, twitching toward ssome sound that Niki can’t hear, movements tighter and jerkier than she is used to. He’d always been a little flightier after the prison, but not quite like this - everything here feels like that but dialed up to eleven. Inexplicably, it reminds her of Dream. 

 “Techno?” Phil gestures towards his seat, prompting, and he settles into it with an obliging huff. 

 “Y’know, Phil, the code names are kinda pointless if we never use ‘em,” he says, words carrying no real heat - he looks back at the rest of them, lips thinning into a line. “Anyway. I called this meeting because I found a couple leads on Dream.” 

 “O-oh,” Ranboo stutters, tail lashing behind him. 

 “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to, mate,” Phil reminds him gently, a sentiment that Niki affirms with a determined nod. 

 “There’ve been some reports- rumors, really,” Techno says, calling their attention again, and they all turn towards him, “of increased activity around the prison again. The Warden spending more time on its grounds, movement seen around the walls and around the portal- so I decided to go check it out for myself.” 

 Niki frowns, and watches as Phil does the same beside her - Techno had seemed to avoid the prison if he could help it, save for when he went on the initial mission to break Dream out. It was no secret to them that he didn’t exactly like the place. 

 “We could’ve helped if you asked,” Phil reminds him, and Techno shakes his head. 

 “I know, Phil. It’s just- that place is bad news. I’d rather keep you guys away from there if I can-” his hand goes to his head with a poorly hidden wince. “Sorry, Chat’s a little- worked up, at the minute.” 

 “Sorry, we’ll stop interrupting you,” Niki says, cutting off Phil before he says anything else. “So you went to the prison?” 

 Techno takes a second to gather his thoughts, mumbling quietly in the way that usually means he’s telling off Chat. “Right- I decided to stake out the portal. The rumors were right- Sam has been hanging around there, entered and left the prison four times yesterday. And today-” he hesitates, expression visibly darkening. “This morning, about an hour after the Warden arrived, Quackity came to the prison and went through the portal. He left the grounds about six hours later.” 

 “Quackity?” Niki frowns, eyes flicking over to how Phil has stilled in his seat. “What is Quackity doing at the prison?” 

 Phil ignores her question, reaching towards Techno, something indiscernible in his gaze. “Mate…”

 “He smelled of blood when he left,” Techno says, words sharp, and Niki feels her heart skip a beat. “Warden left about half an hour after, and I came back here.” 

 Ranboo clears his throat, sounding tentative. “Okay,” he drums his hand on the table when they turn towards him, eyebrows drawn, “but what, exactly, does this have to do with, uh, Dream?” 

 Techno and Phil trade glances, one of their bouts of unspoken conversation that Niki’s grown extremely used to. They seem strangely hesitant, she notes internally, Phil looking towards Techno with a question written clearly in the planes of his face. Techno sighs, a long puff of air through his lips as he closes his eyes and turns his face towards the table. 

 “You know how Dream was- injured,” he starts slowly, looking back up at them. Niki shifts uncomfortably - of course she noticed, it was impossible not to - if not the bandages that peeked under his sleeves and the cuffs of his pants, then how skinny he’d been, all skin and bones curled up uncomfortably in a pile at the corner of Techno’s couch. She’d not know the extent, by any means, and had always assumed that they’d been self-inflicted - she’d been in a bad enough place on her own before to know how your head can make you want to hurt, sometimes, how eating food can feel like choking on sawdust and the world could feel so much smaller when focused into delicate pricks of pain. Phil’s eyes are trained on Techno - on his face, then on the pinkish raised skin of a still-healing scar along his forearm, and she feels understanding settle like a rock in her gut. 

 “The Warden had apparently been lettin’ Quackity into the cell to torture Dream for the revive book,” Techno trails off, eyes narrowed and seemingly fixed on a random point of the opposite wall. “By the time I go there, it’d been goin’ on for months.”

 “But wait,” Ranboo’s tail moves even more erratically behind him, “You mean you think he’s back- there? How?” 

 “He has to be back in the prison,” Techno points out. “I can’t imagine anyone besides him that the two of them are goin’ to just start torturin’- Sam had been iffy about the whole thing when Quackity started in on me. It has to be Dream in there again.” 

 “But how did he get in there, then?” Ranboo asks, visibly confused. “Last time it took the entire server to lock him up!”

 “There were no signs of a struggle,” Niki points out, matter of fact. “I believe you, Techno, but I don’t really know how they managed to drag him back so easily. I can’t imagine he was jumping at the chance to go back in there.” 

 Techno shakes his head with an uneasy sigh. 

 “I have a feelin’ of what might’ve happened,” he says quietly. “And I really hope that I’m wrong and he’s less of an idiot than I think he is.” 

 ---

 They set out to investigate - and maybe attack - the next day, Techno and Phil taking on the bulk of preparations as Ranboo stays behind. He’d been understandably uneasy about the whole mission, so they’d left him back by the Syndicate room to set off their pearls in case anything went wrong. (“By the end of the day,” Techno had said, giving Phil a look with the corner of his lip quirked upwards, “don’t be like Phil here and think I meant the end of the month, alright?”) They’d all be supplied with armor and weapons, thanks to Phil, but she’d been handed the bulk of their potions, arranged neatly in her inventory by type in case they’d be needed. She lingers in the back of the room as Phil and Techno chat amiably over the sound of making last minute repairs on their armor, listens to Techno’s ceaseless reminders for Phil to be careful, watches as they make sure that their stasis chambers are properly prepared should they need them.

 (She watches as Phil nudges Techno’s shoulder when he lingers behind a certain chair, empty as long as she’s been part of the Syndicate, the fountain behind it bubbling quietly without a pearl inside. Techno sighs, expression strange. 

 “Should’ve set him up with one,” he says, quiet, and Phil pats him on the back. 

 “You couldn’t have known, mate. We wanted to wait a little before telling him about the Syndicate, remember?” 

 Techno hums, noncommittal. “Still.”)

 They Nether travel to the site of Techno’s lookout, which ends up being a little shambling thing with dirt walls dug into a small hill looking towards the prison portal, having hardly enough space to fit the three of them. Phil looks at it with no small amount of apprehension, and Techno shrugs lightly, wearing an expression that makes Phil turn to him with a look that makes Niki break into giggles. Techno crosses his arms- “in my defense-” and Phil looks up at the dirt ceiling with a long-suffering sigh. 

 “You couldn’t have made this a little roomier, mate?” Phil asks, voice dry as kindling, and Techno raises his hands by his head. 

 “Hey hey, it’s discreet, it gets the job done, it’s perfectly structurally sound-” the sound of the leftmost wall crumbling, along with the cloud of dust that puffs from it and fills their tiny space, undermines the tail end of his statement and leaves him sputtering, Niki falling into another fit of quiet giggles. Underneath it all, Phil sighs again, raising his wings behind him. 

 “...these are going to take so long to clean out.” 

 To his credit, Techno looks sheepish. “Sorry, Phil.”

 They sober up quickly; Techno turns around to the opposite side of the hill, where he’s hidden some peepholes inside the dirt - Niki settles herself by one, leaning forwards to put her eye to it and catch a glimpse of the prison looming over the water. It’s been repaired since the breakout, she notes, the gaping hole in the roof completely gone and replaced with obsidian, as intimidating and undamaged as it had been before, if not more so. Phil makes a considering sound from behind her.

 “Same plan as last time?” He asks, and Techno shakes his head. 

 “They’ve probably reinforced it, and Dream’s blueprints won’t include anything new the Warden’s added. I wouldn’t be surprised if they moved Dream to a different location completely. We don’t want to draw too much attention, either, we were cutting it pretty close during the breakout.” He narrows his eyes. “I was thinking we’d try something a little stealthier, this time. “ 

 He gestures at Niki, who blinks back at him with wide eyes. 

 “You got a couple of invis potions for us?”

 She distributes the potions among them all, one regular and two splash potions of invisibility each, and Techno points towards the prison once she’s done. 

 “The most important thing is to get through the portal,” he says with a grim expression. “Worst comes to worst, once we’re inside we can always blast our way through - but gettin’ through that portal is our first priority.” 

 Phil narrows his eyes at him. “The portal is locked, though. We’ll need to follow someone else inside- and I’m pretty sure Sam uses pearls, so he’s out.” 

 Techno nods. “Which is why I’m bankin’ on the prison gettin’ another visitor today. We’ll just have to wait.” 

 Niki swallows. “Do you mean-”

 “Quackity?” Techno turns away, not quite meeting her eyes. “I’m not totally sure, but he’s not exactly the type to just give up on his goals. He’s pretty predictable- an empire needs an emperor, always needs something new to rule- you know the type,” he says, tipping his head towards Phil. “He’ll be mad at Dream for disappearin’ on him and won’t miss the opportunity to prove he has the upper hand again. I’m not sure that he’s going to come today-”

 “-but you wouldn’t really be surprised, either,” Phil finishes for him, eyes steely with cold determination. “I trust your judgement, mate. Just stay safe- from what I’ve heard, Quackity has been...erratic.” 

 “When is he not,” Techno huffs a short laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll be fine, Phil. Just be careful, both of you. Don’t get too close. And if things get messy- which is what we’re tryin’ to avoid, by the way- then don’t do anything too risky. Our priority is gettin’ in and out alive.” 

 “We can handle ourselves, Techno,” Niki reminds him with a small smile. “And Ranboo is there in case anything goes wrong.” 

 “Alright, then. Here’s the plan.” 

 ---

 It takes quite a long time for Quackity to arrive, long minutes that Niki spends fidgeting in the corner of the room, brushing her hands over seams of the netherite plates that Phil had shoved into her hands, back at the Syndicate room. The set is inexplicably light - not weightless, by any means, as it is still netherite, but not nearly as bulky as any set of netherite armor she’s owned or seen in the past. The runes are precise, lines thin and exact, written with graceful strokes of lapis. 

 “Phil’s the best metalworker I’ve ever met,” Techno tells her with a small grin, catching her in the middle of tracing what she can make out as an Unbreaking rune along the metal strapped to her forearm. “But then again, he’s had the time to practice.” 

 “Are you calling me old again?” Phil huffs, and Techno flashes a smile her direction before looking at Phil with a slight grin. 

 “Well, Chat is,” he says, lips twitching when Phil glares back. 

 “You can’t just blame Chat every time you insult me, you little shit,” Phil groans, and Techno only grins wider. 

 “Phil, my ad revenue,” he complains, a dramatic lilt to his voice that has Niki stifling a snort, and Phil’s glare only grows deadlier. 

 “You’ll have more than your ad revenue to worry about if you keep this up,” he mumbles, going back to keep watch at one of the peepholes and stilling as he does. “Shit- Techno, Quackity’s here.” 

 Techno straightens up, hindered slightly by the low ceiling of their room. “Alright- we all know the plan, right?” 

 Niki nods in the affirmative, pulling out a splash invis and letting it settle in her hand, the glass cool beneath her fingertips. She reaches into her inventory and lets her armor fade into it, takes a deep breath and watches as the two across from her do the same. She doesn’t wear armor often, but so close to the prison, feeling mining fatigue settling deep into her bones - she’s never missed the security it offers more. Techno keeps watch, waiting- drops his arm in a signal. Now. 

 Niki throws the potion at their feet, flinching back at the sound of shattering glass and feeling its effects seep into her skin. When she opens her eyes, she can’t see anything but the inside of the room that they’d holed themselves in and the faintest of wisps rising from where their feet must be, curling around the grass. 

 (Please let this work, she begs to no one in particular as they walk towards the prison. And if you can hear me- please keep us all safe.)

 She hardly breathes as they follow Quackity across the path, holding someone’s hand in her own - Phil’s, by the feel of it - careful to muffle her footsteps in the grass and stand still whenever Quackity’s eyes come a little too close. Thankfully for them, he seems focused, hardly stopping or looking around at all as he walks towards the prison’s portal, movements stiff as he walks forward. He punches the button on the wall particularly harshly, and Sam’s voice comes crackling through a speaker a second later. 

 “I’m here for my visit,” Quackity says, punctuating the sentence with a snort of laughter that doesn’t sound particularly sincere. Niki hasn’t seen him in a long while, not after everything that happened in Pogtopia, and she feels a chill worm down her spine - this man looks nothing like the one that had laughed and danced and sung at her birthday party what feels like an eternity ago. What happened? 

 Sam sighs, the sound turning into a sharp burst of static through the speakers. “Hello Quackity,” he says, voice deep and tired. “Please step into the portal after I tell you to and then wait on the other side.” 

 “I know the drill, Sam,” Quackity rolls his eyes. “Just because the bastard was gone for a few weeks doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how this damn place works.” 

 “Just going through protocol, Quackity,” Sam replies, and something about this response has Quackity exploding into a brief fit of laughter, the sound grating against Niki’s ears. She feels her grip tighten on Phil’s hand, air caught in her throat. 

 “Protocol- ha. Whatever you wanna tell yourself, pal.” Quackity smiles, cold and cruel, and Niki tries not to think about how she’d seen that same grin on Wilbur, eyes sparkling from the light of the lanterns hung from the bridges and walls of their ravine, remember how she’d looked into them and realized her old friend wasn’t there, anymore. Quackity disappears into the portal, and after a second, the hand around her own pulls her inside of it too.

 On the other side, Quackity taps his foot impatiently, crossing his arms and waiting- Sam’s voice comes through the speakers again, words clipped. 

 “Go through the portal,” he says, and Quackity does- once again, they wait for a second for his body to disappear, then go within it themselves, pressed close enough together within its frame for Niki to feel the warmth of a wing wrap around her shoulders for a quick second before they’re out of the hot, stifling air of the Nether and into a large, neatly made lobby of blackstone and quartz. They duck into a corner, watching as Quackity moves towards the front counter, the Warden waiting there with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks- tired. His movements are slow, footsteps loud against the floor, shoulders tense and back hunched. He walks around the counter, sword strapped to his belt, and Niki feels her breath hitch at the sight of dried blood still stuck to the blade in patches and splatters.

 “He ready?” Quackity asks, holding his hands out - Niki catches a flash of metal as Sam drops something into them, watches as Quackity raises what ends up being a pair of shears, dangerous-looking and gleaming with enchants, to the light. 

 “Yes,” Sam says, side-eyeing Quackity with a small glare. “You know, it’s supposed to be your job to clean those things off when you’re done with them.”

 “I told you, busy day back in Las Nevadas yesterday,” Quackity waves a hand- “I’ll do it, alright? Don’t get all pissy now. What happened to being partners?” 

 “You said we’d be done with this months ago, Quackity,” Sam sighs, and Niki feels a light tug on her arm as Quackity and Sam begin to walk towards the wall to the right of them, breathes in slow and deep as she follows Techno and Phil towards the others. The wall yawns open with the hiss of redstone firing and pistons pulling blocks upwards, opening into a dark hallway that feels like entering the maw of some sort of giant, insatiable beast. They step inside as one, and the door shuts behind them. 

 “We’ll be done soon enough,” Quackity says, and Niki feels hairs rising on the back of her neck. “Trust me.” 

 They stalk forwards through a labyrinth of blackstone, Niki brushing the palms of her hand against her clothes when it goes clammy from adrenaline. Halfway through, she pauses to tip back a second potion of invisibility, careful to keep her movements slow and steady as not to make a sound - the liquid is silvery, cool and light on her tongue, and she lets the effects wash over her with her breath caught in her lungs before moving forward. The tunnels are simpler than she’d expected, bearing little obstacles or checkpoints - Quackity makes a wry comment a second after (“Guard tunnels today, huh? Appreciate the hustle, pal-”) that confirms her suspicions. Despite the potion particles still whirling around their bodies and the sounds of their footsteps, too loud in her own ears, they manage to make it forwards without much trouble, entering a large room with a doorway filled completely with a curtain of lava. 

 “Set your spawn,” Sam says, still stoic, and Quackity rolls his eyes again before doing as told. Niki keeps looking back at the lava flowing past the wall, its heat filling the room and making her already slick palms even worse, and Sam moves to the side to flick a lever, eyes trained on the lava slowly bubbling in front of him. 

 “Give me your tools?” Quackity asks, and Sam sighs before doing so - Niki watches as he hands over a netherite axe, then potions, then a few raw potatoes that Quackity accepts and puts into his inventory. Sam raises an eyebrow once he’s done, hand tight around the handle of his trident. 

 “You bring your own sword, today?” He asks, seeming irritated, and Quackity shrugs. 

 “Sorry pal, I need to make a new one. Guess I’m borrowing yours again.” 

 Sam sighs again, louder, and hands over his sword as well, watching as Quackity swings it a few times experimentally. The blade skims a little too close to her on one swing and she can’t quite help the squeak that escapes her lips as she throws herself out of the way, feels her heart hammer in her ears as she backs up against the wall. Please don’t hear that please don’t hear that please don’t hear that please don’t hear that-

 “Quackity, wait.” Sam raises a hand, ear twitching as he looks over in her direction with narrowed eyes. “I think I heard something.”

 Oh fuck.

 “Well, guess show’s up then,” Techno drawls, and both of them whirl towards his voice, giving Niki enough time to pull her armor back on, scrambling to get her sword and shield in her hands as Phil does the same besides her. Pieces of armor appear where Techno is standing, then a bucket of milk- oh, why must her friends be so dramatic- and Techno’s standing there, smiling sharply, with Orphan Obliterator held loosely at his side. “Let’s get this done, then.” 

 As one, Techno and Phil blur into action - Techno moves forward to catch the prongs of Sam’s trident on his blade as Phil parries Quackity’s blows with his own sword- they move fluidly, easily covering each other’s backs as the room devolves into chaos. Niki remembers their guidance as she flits in and out of the fight, scoring quick hits to keep the Warden and Quackity off balance while remaining out of range from their weapons, and it’s not long before both of them have fallen with a spray of items and experience orbs scattered all over the floor. 

 Techno moves over to block off the exposed face of the bed with a block, looking over at the two of them with an uncharacteristically severe expression. “They’ll be back soon- we have to move fast. Niki, you have those fire res, right?” 

 She nods as she reaches into her inventory, finding the potion’s orange-pink glow and smashing it at their feet. They dive into the lava together, Niki scrambling to keep up, her arms struggling to move through the thick lava, loses sight of both until she flails into something directly in front of her and hands are pulling her up out of the lava. 

 “There you go, mate,” Phil smiles down at her as hauls herself to her feet, making a face at the feeling of the lava clinging to her clothes. “Yeah, swimming through lava isn’t exactly fun. You good?” She flashes him a thumbs up, and he laughs- “Niki, you’re still invisible.” She flushes pink- right.

 A few sips of milk later, she gives him a proper thumbs up, and he laughs, loud and bright. She looks past him to where Techno’s crouched over something- someone, she realizes with a start, in the corner. Dream’s back in prison clothes, ragged and ill-fitting, and he’s curled up with his back towards the front of the cell, shaking enough to be obvious even from where she’s standing. Techno speaks lowly, voice barely more than a deep rumble in the air, almost inaudible.

 “You there, Dream?” 

 She watches as Dream turns his head, looking up with wide, bleary eyes. His hair flops in front of his face, and something within her itches to brush it out of the way. “T-Techno?”

 “Yeah nerd, who else?” Techno smiles, and Dream seems to blink awake, drawing himself up with a shuddery breath. 

 “Techno- it’s a trap- what are you doing here?” he hisses, and Techno gives him a look, deadpan.

 “Yeah, yeah, it’s a trap- come on, Dream, we’ve been over this by now, bro. You have to know that their traps aren’t goin’ to do anything to me by now,” Techno rolls his eyes, reaching forward to steady his hands on Dream’s shoulders when the other man sputters and struggles to breathe. “Easy, now. Geez, you wanted to prove me wrong about being homeless bad enough that you came back here? We could’ve just made you a house, you know. You didn’t have to go this far.” 

 “I- they were gonna kill you,” Dream breathes, face twisted up uncomfortably, and his eyes flick past Techno’s face to where Phil and Niki are standing at the opposite wall of the cell. “All of you- they said-”

 “And that’s what I thought you’d say,” Techno groans. “Come on, you idiot, I thought you were smarter than this-” 

 “They were right there, Techno!” Dream fires back, eyes alight. “You- they were right there, what were you thinking, they could’ve-!”

 “And my best friend is a necromancer, remember?” Techno shakes his head. “Come on, Dream- Sam and Quackity? You know we can handle them in a fight, especially when you can just revive us if anything goes wrong. You don’t have to do this whole self-sacrifice thing, bro- there’s only so many times I can break into the same prison, y’know.” 

 “You’re so stupid,” Dream huffs, but he leans in anyway, head just barely settling against Techno’s shoulder. “I- I can’t believe. You’re so dumb.” 

 “Hey, don’t be sayin’ that to the guy that’s breakin’ you out of prison,” Techno laughs, slinging Dream over his shoulder with an easy motion and laughing harder when it makes him yelp. “That’s just bein’ ungrateful. You’re making Chat sad, man, and when they’re sad they don’t subscribe-” 

 “I regret this entirely,” Dream says, voice muffled against Techno’s shirt, tone completely flat. “Put me down- you idiot- I’m staying here. You’re worse than Quackity.” 

 “Rude. Now you’ve really made Chat mad. I demand an apology-” 

 “Boys, boys.” Niki can’t help giggling, watching the way their gazes snap towards her, rolling her eyes as she moves forward with a few potions held loosely in her hand. “Dream, do you want a health pot?” 

 Dream seems to deliberate for a second, before nodding at her, expression slightly strained. “...sure.” 

 “You two can finish your argument after we’ve broken out of the biggest maximum security prison on the server,” Phil drawls from behind her, arms crossed at his chest. “Come on, now, before Sam gets back.” 

 “Isn’t this the only maximum security prison on the server?” Techno asks aloud, an amused expression on his face - one that only gets worse when Phil glares at him with one ice-blue eye. 

 “Shut-” he sighs, shaking his head. “You two are chaotic little shits, you know that?”

 “Don’t compare me to him, Phil,” Techno complains, Dream mirroring his words with muffled protests of his own, and Phil breathes another drawn-out, long-suffering sigh as he rubs at the bridge of his nose. 

 “Niki, give us some fire res please?” 

 She finds the potion bottle between giggles, throwing it to the ground as she tries to choke down the laughter rapidly bubbling up her throat. “Of course, Phil.” 

 She looks back at Techno and Dream before jumping into the lava, the two of them once again lost in some sort of argument, Dream draped over Techno’s shoulder. He’s breathing easier now, she notes, and Techno looks looser too - a little less tense, leaning back with a perpetual quirk to the corner of his lip as they fire insults back and forth. This is familiar, she recognizes with a soft twist in her chest, the same way that Phil and Techno can finish each other’s sentences and look at each other with laughing eyes sharing the same memories of the past, the same way Ranboo watches Techno’s every step as he adjusts his stance and lifts his sword and Techno laughs and calls him a main character in turn, the same way she and Phil will settle together on the porch over cups of tea and sit at each other’s sides for hours. The rhythm between them is one well-established, the road well-worn - she imagines them, huddled in this dingy cell for months together, and breathes in slow and deep. 

 “Come on,” she smiles, making sure to keep it on her face when Dream meets her eyes with wide, startled ones of his own. Dream still isn’t an ally, and isn’t a friend. 

 But - she watches as he smiles back, something inexplicably warm in her chest - maybe, one day, he could be.

[likeitloveitblogit]

Just Hold Me

I had a dream that got stuck in my brain, so I decided to turn it into a Loki x fem!reader fanfic. Here it is. Please be gentle this is the first but of my writing I've shared.

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader

Summary: After a rough battle fighting with the Avengers you skip the party to recover in your room at the Avengers tower. There you're visited by a drunk Thor and a comforting Loki.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warning: non consensual kissing, mention of assault, pain, mention of death, they all need therapy

What to expect: Me turning a dream into a Loki fluff therapy session.

From your room in the Avengers tower you could still hear the sounds of the party. Another victory for the team meant another raging party to celebrate. You loved a good party, but you had taken a few too many hits during the mission and had chosen to head back to your room.

A knock sounded at your door, "Y/N, are you there?" You heard the gruff voice of Thor.

The god of thunder and his brother Loki had become members of the team after defeating the Dark Elves in London. There had been a drunken night when Loki confessed to you he had considered faking his own death and stealing the throne of Asgard. But Loki had chosen to help fight, winning the battle and the approval of the Avengers. Not everyone had accepted them completely, but you understand that people were capable of change and had become friends with the pair.

"Y/N?!?" Thor called again, pounding a little harder on the door.

You rise from your bed and walk to the door, opening it you find a very clearly drunk Thor. It took a great deal of drinking to get the god drunk. You chuckle thinking about how much he must have consumed, but then notice that his eyes are full of tears.

"Thor, what's wrong?"

"Can I come in?"

Normally you didn't let anyone into your room. You were a fairly open person, happy to share, but your room was your safe place to get away and recharge. Standing there, leaning slightly against your door frame Thor looked completely broken, so you open the door and gesture for him to enter. Leaving the door open you follow Thor into the room.

You weren't sure how to handle having a guest in your room. But Thor walked over and sat on your bed, like he owned the place. "I'm sorry to bother you, I just, I was at that party and everything was good. You know we had that Asgardian wine brought in, so much better than anything here on Midgard. But then I saw a woman in the crowd that looked just like her. And I thought, I don't know, I thought maybe she had only faked it, maybe she'd just been lost and now she'd come to find me. I ran over to her, but the woman was just some stranger."

From your spot learning against the wall you asked, "Who do you mean? Jane?"

"Ha, I've lost her too. I seem to lose everyone I care about. But no. I thought I saw my mother"

That broke your heart. That same drunken night when Loki had confessed thinking of faking his own death, you two had also talked about Frigga's death. Unsure how to comfort the god then you had sat with Loki, holding his hand while he cried. Loki had been so close with Frigga, a part of Loki had changed when the guard had delivered the news of her death. Being in prison unable to even attend the funeral had stirred a desire to be a better person in Loki.

Even though you had seen Loki's grief, somehow Thor had seemed stronger, less affected, but Frigga was his mother, too. The loss of a parent is a terrible thing to deal with no matter how strong of a person you might appear to be. And clearly alcohol made the Asgardians emotional wrecks, because here now was the god of thunder sitting on your bed, body racking with sobs.

You sat down next to Thor, reaching to take his hand. Instead Thor pulled you into a crushing hug. Your first instinct was to pull away from the pain, you had really taken a beating in that fight. But Thor was your friend and he was hurting inside, so you relaxed. Rubbing circles on his back, you whispered "it's ok, you're ok" while you let him cry on your shoulder. The two of you sat like that for a long while before Thor released his hold on you.

You were about to ask Thor if he was feeling better, when he looked down at you and leaned in to kiss you. A million thoughts ran through your brain all at once. Fear struck you the strongest, and you scrambled away, backing up until your back was against the headboard. "What are you doing?"

"Um, kissing you," Thor said as he crawled toward you, hovering over you he leaned to try and kiss you.

"Well, stop it" you put your arms in front of your face trying to push him away. "Stop it, stop it, stop it"

Thor's strong arms easily push your own hands out of the way. But just as Thor leaned in towards you, he was ripped from on top of you.

Frightened, you look up to see Loki shoving Thor away, placing himself between you and Thor. "The lady told you to stop. What has gotten into you brother?"

"You don't know anything stupid brother, just leave us alone" Thor lunges for Loki, but Thor is still far too intoxicated to stand a chance in a fight. Loki easily pushes back and Thor nearly crashes into the wall.

Before Thor can lunge again Loki summons a pair of daggers and points then at Thor. "Brother you're drunk. You need to calm down. I don't want to hurt you, but if you try to hurt Y/N, I'll have no choice."

"Brother you wouldn't dare."

Loki points the daggers more directly at Thor "I don't know what is happening here but you know that I will do anything to defend a lady's honor."

"Oh, so you're just such a hero now? A perfect little prince charming? You're not defending anything. You're just jealous because Y/N invited me into her room and not you."

You stand up, careful to stay behind Loki. "Thor, nothing was going to happen between us. You came to me, crying and I offered you a hand to hold because I knew you missed your mother. You hugged me and I let you because you are my friend. But that's it. You are my friend and I don't want any more than that. You should thank Loki for keeping you from doing something you'd have regretted."

"You think I'd regret kissing you?"

"No, I think you'd regret kissing someone who didn't want to be kissed. You'd regret taking advantage of someone you cared about."

"I, I thought you'd want to kiss me"

"You buffoon, not everyone wants to have their face crushed in by your giant head."

"Hush Loki," you walk toward Thor, Loki tries to pull you back behind him but you touch his arm gently, and step forward. "Thor you know I do care about you, but I don't feel that way about you. Look, I know you have had a lot to drink tonight. And you have a lot of emotions running through you. I mean you thought you saw your mother, that has to be really hard to deal with. But you made a mistake."

"I thought, I just. Uh, I'm sorry"

"I know. Right now I think it is best if you go back to your room, get some sleep, and we can talk more in the morning, once you're sober."

"But,"

"You heard her brother. She is giving you a very generous offer. If you don't accept and leave now, I will make you. And I won't be nice about it."

With a final look at you, Thor leaves your room.

Once Loki is sure that Thor is gone, he sets his daggers down and turns to you. You register that he chose to set them down rather than magic then away, but chart it away as a question for later.

Approaching you, hands raised like you are an animal he is afraid to spook Loki asks, "Y/N, are you ok?"

"Yes, yes. I'm fine." Which is a lie, you're anything but ok. Unsteady on your feet, you nearly collapse.

Loki reaches to catch you and leads you to sit on the bed, "oh Y/N, what did he do to you? I'll kill him if he has hurt you."

"Thank you, but I'm actually just a little worse off than I thought from that fight today. All this has just made me extra aware of how tired I am."

"I'll go get Banner or Strange, or one of the others."

"No," you reach and grab onto his arm.

He looks down at the way your hands tremble as they hold onto his arm. "But, Y/N, you are unwell."

"I'm not sick. I'm not injured, well not more than normal after a fight. I'm just tired. Honest."

"Well then I'll leave you to rest"

But you only hold more tightly, "please don't"

"Don't what?" His breath catches as he looks down into your eyes.

"Please don't leave me. I don't, I don't want to be alone right now."

"Ok, I'll stay." Loki sits next to you, shifting his arm to take your hand. You rest your head on his shoulder and look at the interlocking of your fingers with his.

"Thank you."

"Thor is a buffoon, but I don't think he meant to harm you. He's not used to anyone not wanting him. Not that what he did was ok. I'm not trying to say it was ok."

"Loki, I know. I understand that he was hurting. And I guess I'm a beacon of comfort and he mistook that for romantic attraction. Honestly I think he would have stopped once he realized what he was doing. But I'm still so glad you were there."

Despite Loki's comforting hold, and the circles he was tracing with his long thumb, your hands still shook. "Y/N is there something more bothering you?"

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. "When I saw your brother crawling towards me, I got so scared. I didn't see Thor, my friend. I saw that crazy guy from the factory today."

You could feel the moment the switch clicked and rage burned in Loki, "Wait did something happen? I don't remember a guy. Did this guy…, did he …, do something to you? I will end him."

"Oh Loki, my sweet murderous Loki. You actually already did."

"What?"

"You probably don't even remember, it was the heat of the battle. I'd gone in to clear the next room when I got knocked down and bumped my head. When I woke up, one of the baddies was dragging me by my ankle into the office, muttering about a sweet reward. How much fun he was going to have with me. He was reaching for me when you stormed in. I don't think you even saw me behind the desk, but you grabbed the guy before he could touch me. I didn't see what you did to him, but I heard it and it sounded very bloody."

"Oh gods, Y/N, I had no idea you were there in the back office. That guy looked deranged, even if we hadn't all been given orders to kill on sight I would have killed that man. If I'd known you were there I'd have made sure you were ok."

"I hid under the desk until you'd left and then I ran straight back to the jet. I felt so bad for not helping more with the fight, but…"

"Y/N, no one would ever blame you for running. That's not something anyone should have to face. Oh gods, and then my stupid brother had to come in and loom over you."

"He didn't know."

"No but that doesn't mean it wasn't terrifying, just the same."

You can't find the right words, and simply give a small nod. After a second of silence the question pops back into your brain. "Why did you leave your daggers on my nightstand? Why didn't you magic then away like you normally do?"

"Oh, uh, I was going to offer to let you borrow them. Just in case Thor tried to come back and visit."

"That's really sweet, but I've never been good with knives. I don't know if I'd even know what to do with them."

"Hmm well is there anything I can do to make you feel safer?"

There was a moment when you thought about saying, no. Telling Loki you'd be safe with his daggers, and sending him back to his room. But you couldn't do it. You could not send Loki away. Not when he felt like the only safe thing in the world. A breath of air after you'd been drowning all night. So you asked what you really wanted, not caring that it made you feel vulnerable.

"Can you hold me?"

"Are you sure you want that?"

"Yes I'm sure. I mean if you don't want to, I won't make you."

Loki gingerly wraps his arms around you, until you squeeze him half to death and he returns with a proper hug. Still holding you he says "I just didn't know if you'd want to be touched after… today and then my brother"

"You are not a brutish villain and you are not your brother. Do not take this as anything but a compliment, but right now the fact that you're not a big oversized muscle man is really comforting. And well neither men got the chance to do anything because of you."

"Y/N, I am so sorry you had to go through all of this. But I'm really happy that you find me comforting. I have done some terrible things that I deeply regret. And I've been afraid for so long that I'd never be able to find someone who felt safe around me."

"Everyone in this tower has done things that they can't take back. Things they regret. Including myself." You breathe in the scent of Loki, winter frost mixed with leather and metal, wondering when that scent had become so comforting to you. "But for right now, your arms feel like home and I don't want to ever leave."

"I will be here to hold you as long as you need."

"I'm going to take you up on that offer, because I might have a concussion, so you're going to have to watch me to make sure I don't die while I sleep."

"Humans are far too fragile."

"That we are. But that's an issue to deal with another day. Right now I just need you to hold me." You whisper as you lie yourself down, pulling Loki down with you. Carefully he wraps his arms around you pulling your little spoon body against his own big spoon body. Listening intently to your breathing as you drift asleep, Loki decides that he never wants to stop holding you.

[tonystarkstan]

the thing is, when people break up, a lot of times the only thing that gets talked about is all the bad things. they talk about all the things they hated about their partner, they talk about who their partner was in their worst moments. but the love was there. the love was there, and it mattered. it mattered more than all the other stuff.

i loved it when she smiled. she had a lovely smile, like it was startled out of her, like a sunshower. sometimes she would laugh at things that i didn’t think were as funny as she did but i laughed along anyway because it was contagious and something to be bottled, something to be treasured. i would open up a call to her on facetime and she would answer with her smile and even if it wasn’t a good day, i would think, it’s a good day, because then it was.

she was better at words than anyone i know. better than me, by miles and miles, better than published authors I’ve read and loved, better than my English teachers growing up. she could turn the world into poetry. she turned me into poetry, which is a hard thing to do, because there’s not a lot about me you can turn into anything beautiful. she managed to, though. she had an uncanny ability to put words to almost any feeling, a talent that only ever failed her when we both probably needed it most. or maybe it didn’t, and i just forgot how to listen.

there’s not a person on the planet who can make me laugh the way she could. she spit dark humor and wit like she wrote the language of it. we would be talking about grief and rock bottom and fear, and then i would be laughing and i’d never feel guilty for laughing when i probably shouldn’t be because she always made it feel okay. i think she always wanted me to laugh, and i think she knew that sometimes it was either laugh or cry, and if crying would break me, she would make sure I could have a laugh and feel something close to whole again, even if just for a moment.

she’s stubborn, and i loved that about her. i say loved, past tense, because now it’s that same stubbornness that keeps her isolated from the people who love her. she’s stubborn in her insistence that everyone hates her, and now i don’t get to be there to remind her that that’s far from the truth. but she’s also stubborn in her love for people, too. she’ll love them, against her better judgment. almost especially against her better judgment. and she stubbornly loved me as best as she could when it was hardest to love me. (i wonder if that was against her better judgment, too.)

her ideas bled into mine, and vice versa. i don’t know that i’ll ever find another person who completes all my half-finished thoughts so perfectly. she could spin my prompts into works of art, she could take the barest skeleton of an idea and breathe life into it. i only wanted to read things she wrote. i only wanted to write things she wanted to read. this is evidence of that.

she made me feel safe. she made me want to tuck myself into her side, to wrap the covers tight around the both of us and play a game of make-believe where neither of us ever gets hurt again. she once woke me up from a nightmare and promised me i was okay, and i believed it. i cried my grief next to her in the dark, but she was awake and there for me and i could feel it and it was good. she was good. she is good. i hope someone is telling her that. i hope someone is making her feel safe, too.

she has a list of safe foods, and i find it incredibly endearing. quesadillas and rice from monterrey’s. grilled cheese sandwiches. chicken tenders. i once made her baked potato soup and she liked it, and i still remember that feeling of triumph and pride that i could make something she liked. i only wanted to make things she liked. i wonder what else i could have gotten her to love if we’d stayed together longer. (i guess we’ll never know.)

she’s brave. i don’t know where she gets it from, but i often found myself jealous of it. not in any malicious sort of way, but in the “i wish i were like that” way. she would wake up feeling worse than me and then do the day better. she would try to climb up the tree and i wouldn’t. she would face grief head on and i would flinch away from it. she would love fiercely knowing it could backfire on her spectacularly. i would love under the illusion that it wouldn’t.

she’s kind. she’s resilient and hardworking. she’s intelligent and perceptive and picks up on all the things that aren’t being said, and she tries her hardest, always, so i should have known better than to think what happened in the end was because of a lack of trying. it still hurt, though, and it was still the end. i wish i could change it. but i promise you, she is still all of these wonderful and gorgeous things. and i am so lucky to have gotten to love her.

i hope someone loves her as much as i did. (do.)

i hope they love her better.

— “a love letter to my ex”

[helloalycia]

lose you [three] // leigh shaw

summary: just when you think Leigh is finally listening to you and giving you space, she happens to do the opposite

warning/s: mentions of loss and implications of death/grief

author's note: so this is the final part! this was fun to write ngl – i hope you like the conclusion! :)

part one | part two | masterlist | wattpad

"I think the colours look great like this, don't you?" I asked Jules, pointing to the screen of her laptop

She hummed in agreement as she sipped her smoothie.

"Or maybe this...," I said, preoccupied with trying out something different. "Okay, hold on, let me see."

We were both sat in this smoothie place a few stores  down from her workplace, working on some more promotional material for another set of classes she was setting up.

"You know, we could easily do this at the studio," Jules commented in a knowing tone. "Or even at my house."

I glanced at her before looking back to the screen. "It's better this way."

She knew what I meant, so I knew I didn't need to elaborate. Ever since Leigh had finally gotten the hint and left me alone for the week, I'd been keeping away from her as much as I could, still trying to figure out what I was feeling. This also meant not going to her workplace or her house in case I bumped into her.

"So, you're not gonna tell me what happened between you and my sister?" Jules asked curiously, for the millionth time, leaning forward.

I scrunched my nose as I shook my head. "Not this time, Jules, sorry."

An exasperated sigh escaped her lips. "Leigh won't say anything either, so that's no fun..."

Not knowing how to respond, I simply kept quiet and continued to play around with the colour palette of the designs I'd put together. Jules watched over me, inputting her ideas every now and then and explaining her 'vision', before our time was interrupted with her phone ringing.

"Hello," she answered it casually, before continuing to speak to whoever. "...No, I've got one... no need! I'll pick one up for you."

I gave her a sideways glance as she looked the other way quickly, as if hiding something.

Her voice lowered as she continued to speak to whoever. "Yes, we're here..." She sighed. "She's fine, Leigh."

I rolled my eyes as I looked back to the laptop, trying to distract myself.

"Okay, I'll see you soon, bye," Jules mumbled before hanging up and looking back to me.

It was quiet for a moment, neither of us speaking as I clicked away on her trackpad. Figuring she wouldn't speak, I chose to.

"Was that Leigh?"

Looking down at her smoothie awkwardly, Jules nodded. "Er, yeah."

I shot her a look. "You know you can have a normal conversation with her. She is your sister after all."

Jules ran a hand through her hair. "Yes, I know, I just... I don't want to make you feel awkward."

"It's fine," I reassured her with a small smile, before looking to the screen. Unable to stop myself, I asked, "How is she?"

A pause, then: "She's good."

I nodded nonchalantly, though I was glad to hear. I wasn't heartless – I still cared about her. But my stubbornness, as Taylor liked to constantly point out, was keeping me from hearing Leigh out. Her words still rang clear in my ears, the implication louder than the words themselves. And then that made me angry all over again and I found myself in a constant cycle of needing space from Leigh and wanting to hear her out.

Trying to ignore my conflicting thoughts for the girl who wasn't even present, I continued to work on Jules' designs before she had to get back to work and so did I.

"Are you okay to come over tonight to finish those off?" she asked as I packed away my things.

I hesitated, chewing on my lip. The whole point was to avoid going to her house.

"I'll make sure Leigh isn't there," Jules promised, noticing my silence, before adding with a playful smile, "Or is that new promotion of yours too time-consuming for you to spend time with me?"

"You know that's not true," I told her with a suppressed laugh, before relaxing my shoulders and nodding slowly. "I... I guess I can come around for a little while."

"Only a few hours," she promised me.

I nodded. "Okay, sure. I guess I'll see you tonight, Jules."

She grinned. "Awesome! See you tonight."

—

I probably should have figured out that Jules was lying to me. I'd known her long enough to tell when she was playing me, but I must have been so distracted by everything that I failed to realise what she was doing until it was too late.

When I got to the Shaw residence that evening after dinner, Jules answered and let me in, promising that her sister and mum were out on a girls night so wouldn't bother us. That was the first major hint – Leigh hated spending 'girls night' with her mum.

Then, when I set my bag down in the living room, waiting for Jules to join me, I heard the front door slam shut.

Spinning around and staring into that direction of the house, I called after her. "Jules? You still here?"

Instead of Jules, Leigh stepped in the doorway, dressed in a jumper and joggers, hair messy but small smile on her lips. That's when I realised I'd been tricked.

"I'm out of here," I said instantly, grabbing my bag to go.

"No, please stay," she said pleadingly, taking a step forward, but stopping when she saw how much I didn't want to be near her right now.

"I can't believe you'd resort to such childish methods of trickery," I admitted with disbelief. "And just when I thought you were finally listening to me and giving me space."

She pressed her lips together firmly as I spoke, before saying, "You wouldn't have come if I'd called, Y/N. It was the only way to get you here."

"Of course I wouldn't have!" I said with frustration, hand on my bag strap tightening. "I didn't want to see you!"

"I know you didn't, that's why I left you tons of messages!" she exclaimed, before rolling her eyes bitterly. "Your stupid, love-struck assistant is clearly terrible at delivering said messages."

"You mean the assistant with the boyfriend?" I retorted with a glare.

Her eyebrows creased together with confusion. "She has a boyfriend?"

I groaned loudly before moving forward to leave. "I'm going."

Leigh's bitchiness dispersed as she realised what was happening. "Wait, Y/N– just wait!"

Ignoring her, I continued my approach to the door and pushed past her without sparing her a glance. I was afraid that if I did, I would say something I'd regret.

"Please!" she called after me. And I was a mere few centimetres from the door before she shouted, "I love you!"

I widened my eyes with surprise, wondering if I'd heard that right. Stopping in place, I turned around slowly and saw Leigh standing in the living room doorway with teary eyes and a quivering lip.

"I'm in love with you," she repeated, confirming my hearing. Green eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she continued, "I was stupid how I acted and I– I've treated you so horribly and you always put up with it. But not this time."

She paused, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks as she raised a shaky hand to move her hair from her eyes.

Swallowing hard, she said, "I p–push people away and I've pushed so many friends away, but y-you never left. You stayed this whole time a–and I've already lost so much, but I can't take losing you. I c–can't lose you, Y/N."

Forgetting my anger for a moment, I felt my heart ache in my chest as Leigh broke down before me. I'd seen her at her worst before, but this was different. She was choosing to be vulnerable and that never came easy to her.

"Leigh, I'm not going anywhere," I said gently, frown on my lips. "We're in a fight right now and I'm angry, yeah, but I would never leave you. Not for good."

"You say that!" she snapped, clenching her fists as more tears streamed down her cheeks. "You say that, but then blocked calls and wanting space turns into leaving because you can't take it anymore. You can't take me anymore. And I can't take it, I can't take pushing you away. I can't lose you."

She clenched her jaw, eyes piercing through me with sadness and guilt and anger all at once.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," she said, her voice softer and very unlike herself. "The kiss it– it scared me because I wanted to do it for a long time, but you're my best friend and best friends don't do that. So, I tried to forget about it, but I ended up blaming you in the process and it's not you who's at fault here, it's me. And because of that, you're going to hate me and leave and I'm going to be a–alone again and I can't do that again, n–not again, n–not–"

I drew closer to her and pulled her in for a hug, unable to take her hysterics any longer. It hurt too much, seeing her pour her truth out in such a volatile way that had clearly been building up for a while.

She cried as I held her close, pressing a kiss to her hair and rubbing her back slowly. I never meant for it to get like this. I didn't know that she was going through all of this turmoil and now I felt bad, even if she'd hate that I did.

"I'm not going anywhere, Leigh," I promised her, my own tears burning the lids of my eyes. "I swear. you're not going to lose me and I could never hate you. Don't even think that for one minute..."

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I led her to the bench by the front door and held her close, not caring that her tears were soaking my shirt or that she was clinging so tightly that I would never be able to pry her off, not unless she let go by choice.

I wasn't sure how long we sat there, but her cries eventually turned into sniffles and her head found it's way onto my shoulder. My arms wrapped around her torso, still rubbing circles onto her back, and hers clung around my shoulders tightly.

"I'm so sorry," she muttered guiltily into my neck, her warm breath tickling the skin and sending shivers down my spine.

I swallowed hard. "I know you are. I forgive you, Leigh."

She didn't say anything and I wondered why she was unable to let go and meet my eyes. Maybe it was easier to talk when we weren't looking at each other.

"I would never leave you, you know," I told her quietly, letting her know again. I'd let her know forever if it meant she'd believe me. "You can be such a bitch sometimes, but I put up with it because I love you, too."

She sighed. "But not like I love you."

I tried not to smile. "You're kidding, right? Of course like you love me. Why do you think I got so upset at your stupid date the other week?"

Finally pulling away from my neck, she faced me with confused eyes. "You said it was because I didn't reply to your messages."

I rolled my eyes. "It was because I thought that you didn't care about kissing me. I was scared that you didn't like me like that. That you thought you'd made a mistake." 

Her eyes flickered between mine, as if trying to understand what I was saying. Realisation passed through them as she stroked my neck with her finger, arms still laced around my shoulders.

"So, the kiss. You didn't– you don't hate me?"

I shook my head, squeezing her waist gently. "I don't. And if you'd given me a chance, I would've kissed you back. Properly. Like–" I sucked up a nervous breath. "Like you deserve."

She didn't say anything for a moment, eyes merely reading mine intimidatingly. For once, a rare instance between us, I couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"Now's your chance," she finally spoke, before capturing my bottom lip between hers in an instant.

Unlike last time, I got over my surprise quite quickly and closed my eyes, pulling her closer by the waist and returning the kiss. Her lips were soft and salty and addictive, and when she rested her hand on my chest to gently push me away after a moment, I immediately chased her lips down again, refusing to let her go so quickly. Not when I'd waited so long for this moment.

She gasped as I swiped my tongue across her bottom lip, asking for entry. Using that as opportunity, I slipped my tongue between her lips and met hers in the middle, revelling in the taste that was Leigh Shaw. It didn't go beyond that and that was okay, as I was too busy focusing on how perfect she fit next to me, my one hand on her waist and the other on the back of her neck.

Finally pulling apart for air, she rested her forehead against mine and I opened my eyes to be submerged in pools of green. Licking her lips, she breathed out slowly.

"I don't want to lose you," she admitted in a whisper.

Pushing her hair behind her ear, I rested my hand on her jaw and caressed it. "You won't. I told you. I'm not leaving you. Not now. Not ever. I promise."

She closed her eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly. "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep."

I realised she was probably thinking back to her late husband and I didn't blame her. She'd suffered through so much and I couldn't imagine the fears she had.

"I'll keep it for as long as I can," I told her, kissing her  forehead. "But know for sure that you won't be getting rid of me that easily."

She cracked a small smile through her teary eyes, nodding slightly. "I'll try to be less of a bitch."

"Hey, be as bitchy as you want," I told her playfully. "I'm not going anywhere, remember?"

She let out a small snort through her nose, barely a laugh, but it was music to my ears and it brought a smile to my lips. Finally opening her eyes, she looked to me with adoration and it made my heart beat a little faster.

"I love you," she said with the utmost sincerity.

I wiped away a stray tear of hers with the pad of my thumb and met her gaze. "I love you, too, Leigh."

Glassy eyes watched mine, content for the first time in a long time, before she pulled me in for a hug, tucking her head into my neck like it was her favourite spot in the world. I knew the feeling of her there was definitely mine.

"What do you want to do now?" I asked quietly, not wanting to break the peace we'd created.

"I'm really tired," she admitted, lips brushing my neck as she spoke.

I pressed a kiss to the side of her head, mumbling into her hair, "Let's get you to sleep then."

She hummed in agreement and I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd closed her eyes already.

"I want you to stay," she added. "To sleep with me."

Pausing, I tried not to laugh, which she realised and nudged me in the gut lightly.

"Not like that, idiot," she said, definitely giving me an eye roll even though I couldn't see her. "I mean, yes, eventually like that. If you want. But not now. Now, I just want you next to me."

Smile of adoration on my lips, I squeezed her gently. "Hmm, I'm not sure. I've got work in the morning. Early start."

She pulled away from me suddenly, frown on her lips and eyes flickering between mine disappointedly. I sighed, raising my hand and stroking her cheek.

"I'm kidding," I told her with a knowing look. "I mean, I do have work, but I'll stay if you want me to."

"Jerk," she mumbled, before standing up and pulling me up with her. "You're staying."

I kept ahold of her hand and intertwined our fingers, tugging her closer to me. She still seemed disgruntled from my joke, so I kissed her cheek, lingering for a second longer than usual, before smiling.

"Come on, grumpy pants."

She narrowed her eyes at me childishly, but continued to lead me upstairs and to her bedroom. As we walked, I remembered something.

"So, does Jules know about us? Since she helped you to trick me tonight?"

Leigh didn't bother flicking on the lights to her room when we entered, instead closing the door behind us and letting the streetlights from outside her window guide us to her bed.

"She knows we argued," she answered delicately. "I didn't know how to tell her about how I felt when I–" She sighed. "When I didn't even know how to tell you."

I nodded, not bothering to ask her about if she wanted to tell her tomorrow, or tell her mum tomorrow. Or if she wanted to wait and tell them later when we were settled into our relationship. I trusted her to talk to me when she was ready and there was no rush anyway.

"Jules is out with a friend tonight and my mum is working late," she explained their absence. "And you've slept over before so this is no different."

"True," I agreed.

A yawn escaped Leigh's lips and I couldn't help but smile at how cute she looked when she stretched her arms and scrunched her face tiredly. When she finished, she opened her eyes and saw my expression.

"What's got you all smiley?" she asked with a quirked brow.

I shook my head dismissively as she grabbed some pyjama pants from her drawer. "You're too cute is all."

Groaning loudly, she said, "God, Y/N, don't do that. Don't be all couple-y already. Especially not when it's–"

"What?" I cut her off with amusement, as she threw the pants in my face. "Complimenting you?"

"Exactly," she said like it was obvious, before waving her hand with irritation. "Just take your pants off so we can go to sleep."

I chuckled. "Eager much?"

She groaned again, but I saw a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. As I changed out of my jeans, she got under the duvet and got comfortable. I joined her soon enough, just about pulling the duvet on top of me before she grabbed my arm and forced me to roll over and spoon her from behind.

I stifled a laugh as she entwined our hands, resting them on her waist, and sighed contently.

"So, guess I can't be little spoon tonight then?" I teased, making her kick me with her foot.

"My bed, my choice," she muttered, voice heavy with fatigue.

Settling in behind her, I put my leg between hers comfortably and pressed a kiss to the exposed skin of her neck where my head lay.

"I don't mind being the big spoon," I reassured her, though I knew it wouldn't make a difference. If Leigh wanted to be cuddled, that was the end of it.

It went quiet as I appreciated how pleasant it felt with her in my arms, her body pressed closely to mine and her self radiating a comforting warmth only she seemed to possess. I could definitely get used to this.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

She stopped, breathing out slowly. "Thanks for staying."

"Well, you asked so nicely and–"

"No," she cut me off quietly. "Thanks."

It took me a second to realise that she wasn't talking about just now. I smiled to myself.

"Always, Leigh."