#neither of them would stand for that for a second

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Milk Aisle - Lando Norris

<word count - 7191> |part 1 - Nerd|part 2 - Rumours|part 3 - So Special|part 4 - Something Else|

Lando resented you. He absolutely hated your guts. You had completely ruined him. He was miserable, wholly miserable. He spent the coming days sulking in bed, even skipping school on the Friday by telling his mum that he was sick.

Despite never really enjoying school, Lando wasn't one to ask to have a day off randomly. So, she let him, just this once. She knew it was something to do with you, but Lando never specified. A small part of him didn't want his mum or family disliking you, but he couldn't fathom why. 

Maybe it was because he still longed for you with every fibre of his being, but that was just a hunch. 

He didn't bother doing any of the catch-up work that he had missed, it didn't feel worth it to him. His mum had to talk him into going into school on Monday after a weekend of moping and sitting with his mind that was shrouded with the fog of his hatred for you. 

His mum drove him to school, and he went to stand by the lockers until the bell had gone for first lesson. His friends had texted to ask why he hadn't turned up to the track on Saturday, or to the park for football on Sunday, but he had left them all on read. 

It was weird to see them concerned for him, since they were so prone to taking the piss out of him. He appreciated it, but he didn't want to talk. Meanwhile, you had also spent your weekend in a stupor of sadness. 

You definitely regretted it in some capacity, but you were glad not to hear a word from anyone when you walked into school on Monday morning. You were still avoiding Lilly like the plague she was, but no one made any move to piss you off. 

Later in the day, you took yourself over to DT, where you knew Lando would be. You hadn't seen him all day, and you weren't sure if you wanted to or not. The guilt would eat you alive if you saw him. Well, if he was sad. 

For all you knew, he could have been going about his day acting as if everything was fine and he wasn't so hurt by the way that things had ended between you. But then you caught yourself as your inner monologue ran rampant. 

Things had ended? That made it sound like you were in caring, loving relationship. Your friendship was very caring, since the both of you were very considerate of how the other felt. Loving? That was a whole other matter to consider.

Neither of you knew what love in a romantic capacity meant, but whatever you felt for Lando was the closest thing you had ever had to it. He wasn't there when you walked in, which was slightly relieving. 

You sat at your bench, opening the cupboard underneath the desk to see everyone's work who sat at that desk throughout the week. And there was the piece that Lando had made as part of the bet that had started all of this. 

He still owed you a week of woodwork, and you still owed him a few maths homeworks, but you had given up on it, just like you had given up on Lando. The bell went that signalled that everyone should be in lesson, and Lando still wasn't there.

Your teacher took the register, but just as he reached Lando's name, the door swung open as he skulked into the room. He didn't look at you, or anyone else for that matter as he took his seat at his bench. 

"You're late, Lando," your teacher said, and Lando just sat there and looked at him. "Why?" he asked, and Lando's eyes darted around the room for a second, as if coming up with a reason why he was late. 

"I was with Miss Kennedy," he said, and everyone knew it was a lie. Miss Kennedy was your maths teacher, and you knew he wasn't with her because you had seen her go into the maths room and Lando sure as hell hadn't gone in too.

It seemed your DT teacher also knew that it was bullshit, but he decided not to press the matter any further. Once the register was done, he explain what you'd be doing today. You hoped you'd be doing 3D modelling on the computers or 3D printing - or at least something that didn't require too much technicality. 

But no, it was your absolute favourite thing to be doing. Woodwork. You had to stifle an audible groan while he went through what you'd be doing. The task itself was relatively simple, but that didn't mean you wanted to do it.

Your assignment for the next two lessons was simple: you had to make a storage box. A simple box with some sort of opening and slots for any types of items that you wanted in it. You didn't have long to design it, you just had to come up with some measurements, grab the supplies from the store cupboard once it was authorised and go for it. 

In the end, you quickly made a rough sketch of your flashcard holder. It was something you'd actually use, and you would actually try since it would be going on your desk and you'd have to look at it every day. 

You planned out 11 compartments, one for each of your subjects and went to the storage cupboard to get your supplies. For this lesson, you had your sheets of wood and the hinges in case you actually got onto finishing the lid of the box. 

Despite your hatred of the subject, you had to admit that you were quite good at it. It was probably the perfectionist in you, wanting to make everything exactly to size and make your stuff look professional, even if you had never made anything quite as perfect as what Lando and his dad had made you. 

Lando just sat at his bench, unmoving. While everyone else had pretty much finished sketching and had gathered supplies, he hadn't even put pencil to paper. Your teacher knew something was up. Lando and your DT teacher were like you and your maths teacher - as close as it was appropriate for a teacher and student to be.

Lando was the best at DT, so he liked him. So, to see him not even bothering to try made him worry. He wasn't going to push Lando, but he also didn't want anyone else to see him just sitting around and think they could also slack off or that he was playing clear favourites.

"Lando can you please at least sketch something? And then we can make it another day," he gently encouraged, and Lando didn't want to take his bad mood out on his teacher, it wasn't his fault. It was yours. 

Lando mindlessly sketched shapes on his paper before deciding on what he wanted to do. Out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but spot you putting your hair up and pulling your apron on over your head. 

Goddamnit, why did you have to be so captivating to him? He was supposed to hate you for what you did, but why couldn't he? His eyes were superglued to you as you moved, marking out the measurements on your bits of wood. 

Trying to focus on the paper in front of him, Lando was finding it harder and harder to keep himself away from you. Plus, the way you were cutting your wood was far from safe. Your fingers were way too close to the saw blade, and he wasn't liking the way you were doing it. 

You were quick with the chopping so that you could make the cut as clean as possible, and you had neglected to notice the placement of your fingers. Every back and forth motion seemed to bring your fingers a centimetre closer to the blade, and he was internally cringing.  

He might not have liked you, but he couldn't watch you hurt yourself and just stand by and do nothing. Getting up from his seat, he approached your bench. "Hey, Y/N, don't chop it like that, you'll hurt yourself-" he started, but he was a few seconds too late. 

The hand that was sawing got caught, the teeth snagging in the wood. This caused your hand to slip, tilting the blade while still sawing. "Ow, fuck!" you yelped, dropping the saw with a clatter and clutching onto your fingers while droplets of crimson dripped down the side of your hand. 

Lando dragged you over to the sink in the corner of the room, turning on the tap and sticking your hand under the running water. "Stay there," he told you, darting to the other side of the room to get the first aid kit off of your teacher's desk. 

By the time he had gotten back, your teacher was inspecting your hand as red continued to gush out and you cried out in pain. It wasn't even that it hurt that much since the adrenaline was running, it was more the sight of the amount of blood. 

Everyone was looking at you, some people shielding their eyes from the sight of the blood trickling down onto the floor. Your teacher had his hands clamped over the injured fingers, hoping the pressure would stop the bleeding. 

"Lando, can you get the cotton wool out of the kit please?" he asked, and Lando was quick to pop it open and rummage through all of the different items. He found the big pack of cotton wool, pulling some out and passing it to your teacher.

He held it over the wounds across your digits, still trying to stop the bleeding. Lando felt like a bit of an idiot, just standing there and watching as more and more tears trickled down your face as the pain appeared to set in. 

He had seen you crying more than he had seen you smiling as of recent, and it broke him. He couldn't even put a hand on your back to soothe you, or hold your other hand in support. All he could do was watch. 

He didn't want to risk you pushing him away, not again. Lando at least let himself pull out a tissue from the first aid box and offered it to you. You took it with a small smile and a whispered thank you, the feeling of your fingers brushing together sending jolts of electricity through both of you.

Dabbing at the tears on your cheeks, your teacher asked Lando for the alcohol wipes from the box. "This is probably going to hurt, but I need you to just bear through the pain, OK?" your teacher said, and you held your breath in anticipation. 

Pressing the wipe to your sliced fingers, the pointed sting instantly seeped into the wound. You let out a sharp hiss of pain, your face scrunching up in agony. Without thinking, you grabbed Lando's hand and squeezed it for dear life, just to take your mind off the soreness.

There was no way in hell that he was pulling his hand away from you, instead he was glad that he could offer some semblance of support for you when you needed him. He could see that your hand was shaking as your teacher wiped the red off of your fingers, droplets still sliding down your hand. 

"Y/N, I think you need to go to the nurses office, OK? I'm going to have Lando take you," he told you, and you nodded. "Hold this on your fingers," he told you, pressing more cotton wool over the open wounds. 

Swapping to hold your hand with his free hand, Lando placed his other hand on your elbow in case he needed to quickly grab onto you. If you were going to pass out, you probably would have by now, but he didn't want to take that chance. 

No words were exchanged as you walked down the corridors, and you were focused on ignoring the pain and keeping the cotton wool clamped down on your fingers. Lando wanted to talk to you, to tell you that you were going to be okay, but he didn't want to overstep his bounds. 

And he was repeatedly reminding himself that he is supposed to hate you, not want to make you feel better. He was meant to enjoy your pain for some sadistic reason, but he felt that the mental justification of that didn't really align with any form of moral values. 

Eventually, the two of you arrived at the nurse's office, and Lando took his hand away from your elbow to knock on the door. You heard a muffled 'Come in!' from the other side of the heavy wooden door, and Lando opened it to usher you inside. 

He stepped in behind you, taking a firm grasp of your hand again. The nurse looked between the two of you, her eyes landing on the hand that you were covering with the cotton wool as she looked at the redness still partially dribbling from it. 

She was waiting for your explanation, but when you didn't offer one, Lando piped up. "She sliced her fingers on one of the tenon saws in the workshop, we haven't seen how deep they are but there's a lot of blood. She's still got all of her fingers, we don't need any sewing back on," he said, his attempt at making a joke falling flat. 

"OK, sit down, dear," the older lady told you, patting the bed in the corner of the room. Lando led you over, helping you shuffle on without the aid of your own hands. "You can go back to class now, love. Thank you for bringing her," she said to Lando as he kept hold of your hand for a few more moment. 

After offering you a final squeeze of reassurance, Lando released his grip and took a step back. Just as he reached the door, he heard your voice. "Lando?" you said, his name sounding heavenly coming from you. Your voice was rough from crying, and something about it worked for him. "Thank you," you said. 

"No problem," he nodded, taking himself out of the room and slowly walking back to the workshop. Once he got back, your teacher went up to him. 

"Is she OK?" he asked, and Lando just shrugged.

"I don't know, the nurse sent me away before she looked at her hand," he explained.

"Did you see what happened?"

"She was sawing through one of the pieces of wood for her container and her fingers were way too close to the blade. Her hand slipped and the blade caught her fingers," he told him, your teacher sighing.

"OK, thanks Lando," he said, walking off to observe the other students in the class. Glancing over at your desk, Lando saw the nearly chopped pieces of wood that you were doing, and something in him was compelling him to go over and finish it for you. 

He didn't want to, since he didn't want to be doing you anymore favours. But he also couldn't just leave it sat there, barely started. With a huff and hurling internal insults about himself for being weak, he took himself over to your desk. 

Your saw blade had blood on it, and he sure as hell wasn't using that. Your teacher spotted it and took it away for sanitation, leaving Lando to get another one from the tool cupboard. The bit of wood that you had been cutting was completely wrong after your hand slipped, a full slice through the surface.

He looked at your sketches and redrew out the dimensions on a different piece of wood, before taking it over to the bandsaw to cut it quicker. He didn't know why you didn't opt for that instead of the hand held method, but he was glad you hadn't. You definitely wouldn't have had fingers if you had slipped with that machine. 

Lando was quick with cutting the pieces up, getting ready to sand the edges and glue them together. He also saw the small tin of white paint on the desk, now seeing the full picture of your final creation. 

From a distance, your teacher saw Lando redoing your project for you and smiled to himself. He knew that Lando had made your previous work that you had turned in, it was obvious. There was no one with the precision or meticulousness like Lando, and it was clear who had done the work.

He found it admirable that the young man had put so much time and effort into the things for you, so much so that he couldn't even be mad. He watched as Lando picked up your pencil and made some amendments to the designs, as well as adding in some extra stuff that he knew would make it even better. 

In the meantime, you were still sat in the stuffy nurses office. The bleeding had slowed down, and the cuts on your fingers were deep, but not so bad. They may leave faint scars, though. "Is that young man your boyfriend?" she asked, and you knew she was just looking for something cool to tell the other teachers in the staff room later. 

"No, no. We're... friends." you said, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. It was all your doing, and maybe if you hadn't pushed him away, you could have been saying that he was your boyfriend. 

"Ah, 'friends'," she teased as she cleaned up the dried blood from around the wounds. You didn't respond, you just let her wrap each finger in some soft bandages. "Keep these on for a couple weeks, if they come off you can come back and I'll refresh them, OK?"

"OK, thank you," you nodded, taking yourself back to class with only a few minutes left of the lesson. As you walked in, you saw Lando at your bench, painting the pieces that he had recut for you. 

"I was... erm... sir did this... I was just painting them..." he stuttered, and your teacher smirked from behind him. 

"No, no I didn't. Lando did the whole thing," he chuckled, watching as his face turned red. 

"Thanks Lando," you smiled, admiring what he was doing. Every piece looked like absolute perfection, and he was even taking such precise care in the brush strokes he was using for it. 

"Anytime," he mumbled, putting the wet pieces on the window sill and going over to his own desk again. He didn't think you'd come back from the nurse's office before the end of the lesson, so to see you walk in before was nothing short of embarrassing. 

He didn't want you to think that everything was fine, and he was still pining after you. He didn't want you to know how much he still wanted you, and how much he always would. Yet here he was, doing your work for you when you had hurt yourself. Helping you when you had hurt yourself. 

Lando felt like an idiot. A big, lovesick idiot who didn't know what else to do but chase after the one girl he had ever had feelings for. He was desperate for the the bell to go so that he could leave, so that he could get away from you.   

It had dawned on him that he'd have to see you in maths, but he would be taking himself off to his reinstated desk in the back of the class, not the front row slot that he had once been so happy about having. 

Miss Kennedy had noticed his move, but she didn't say anything. She had noticed that the quality of his homework had slipped, and the next test that you had wasn't boding well. Whenever she walked around class when you were all working, she noticed that he barely got past the first few questions. 

She was hoping that his sudden brilliance wasn't just a short term thing, but she couldn't be too sure. Lando knew that you'd be there first, so he took it upon himself to be late yet again. He went to sit on the back row, not even paying attention to the new stuff you were being taught. 

Once you had been set off doing more practice questions, Miss Kennedy made her way to the back of the class. "Lando, can I have a really quick word with you after class?" she asked, and it wasn't like Lando could exactly say no. 

He thought he was going to get told off for the sudden deterioration in the quality of his work, but he wasn't in the head space to care. "Yeah," he nodded, going back to pretending to do the questions that were on the whiteboard. 

Everytime he looked up, he saw you firing through the maths as you always did. He didn't like seeing your bandaged hand, knowing that he could have stopped it if he had been quicker with telling you. 

Deep down, he knew it wasn't his fault, but he still didn't like knowing that he could have prevented it if he wasn't so caught up in his own head. You were just resting it on the table, since it was painful to do anything else with it at this moment in time. 

You were just working through the maths to try and take your mind off of your hand and Lando. It hurt, that was a given, but seeing Lando so miserable hurt a hell of a lot more. In many ways, you wished that he was just going about his day like normal, just so that you could confirm the theory that he never really cared. 

Yet, seeing him so miserable almost proved the opposite. He had to have cared to some degree, and it made you hate yourself even more for what you had done. He had even been doing your DT for you, again. He had made them perfect for you like ha always did. 

Although it felt cruel to go to him and say that you wanted to forget what you had said to him and just go back to being his friend again. It felt a little too far gone for that, and it was your fault. Completely your fault. 

Miss Kennedy went through the answers to the questions, before telling you all to make sure that you revised for your test. She let you go on the bell, but you took extra time to pack up since you pretty much only had one hand. 

It was a struggle, and Lando wanted so desperately to go over to you and help, but he stood his ground and waited at the back of the class. The tension in the air was thick, and it felt like the walls were closing in on you as you felt Lando's eyes on you from the back of class. 

Miss Kennedy was also watching, and you kept dropping things in your rush to leave the stuffy room. Slinging your backpack over your shoulder, you bolted out of the room and into the flurry of students in the corridor. 

As you left, Miss Kennedy closed the door behind her, closing herself and Lando off from the rest of the school. "What's going on with you, Lando?" she softly asked, leaning against the door.

"Nothing." he curtly answered, itching to leave the room so that she wouldn't ask more questions.

"Your work in class is slipping, your homework is going downhill, and I can nearly guarantee that you're not going to smash tomorrow's test like you have been doing recently. What's gone on?" she pressed, and Lando was trying to come up with a lie on the spot. 

"Just stuff at home..." he mumbled, suddenly panicking that they may call his parents to ask what was happening and that it was effecting their son. Miss Kennedy stayed quiet, as if still pushing him to say something. 

"It's just stuff with Y/N, nothing major." he said, leaving his confession there. 

"Trouble in paradise?"

"If that's what you want to call it," he scoffed, knowing that things between the two of you were never paradise. You were always nearly there. You teetered on the precipice of happily ever after and a sick sense of doomsday. Yet, doomsday had gone from being close at hand to his every day state of mind.

"She's good for you, Lando. You do miles better when she's sat with you, and she actually talks to the people around her when you're there." Miss Kennedy told him, and it was hardly like he didn't know it already.

But, hearing it from someone else and out loud instead of in his own head, it somehow hurt more. It was like he was being forced to accept that you were better together than you were apart, and it was like tearing open the already shakily sewn together wound. 

"Yeah well, apparently I'm not good for her," he sighed, keeping his head down and walking out of the door. There was no use in Miss Kennedy stopping him, since she knew that was the best she was going to pull from him.

If Lando didn't want help, then he wouldn't let himself be helped. It was as simple as that. 

But, as he walked to his lockers with his eyes focused on his feet, he heard voices. He felt a strange sense of deja vu creeping up on him. He knew Lilly was there, and he wasn't putting any money on who she was talking to.

"See? The second you gave him even a shred of hassle, he was out of there. Do I get an apology now?" she said, and he could see the sneer on her face in his mind.

"No, Lilly. You get no apology. You don't deserve an apology. You don't deserve anything." you said, your voice giving nothing away. If Lando wasn't so annoyed at you, he would have found your stubbornness impressive. 

"But I was right, wasn't I? You're left being all by yourself, and now the smartest girl has been labelled at the dumbest for ever thinking she had a shot with Lando Norris." she continued to tease, and Lando couldn't tell if you were on the verge of tears or slapping her. 

He had said the exact same thing to you, but it sounded so much worse when she said it. He didn't mean it, not anymore. He may have in the moment, but he didn't believe it for a second now. And he knew Lilly did.

"Lilly, what has to happen for you to realise that you're going to walk out of these doors and be nothing. Everyone will remember you as the bitch who had nothing better to do than put other down because she wanted to make herself feel better." you started, and Lilly's eyes flashed with something unrecognisable. Hurt? No. 

"Oh please, I'm the-"

"No, I'm not done. When it comes to our highschool reunion, one day in the future, you're going to be nothing. Maisie might be doing music, since I'm sure you're awfully jealous of the fact that her talent is beyond anything you could ever have. I'll have gotten the best damned grades I can get and I'll be working some badass job just like I'm meant to."

"And guess what, you're not going to like this one. Lando will be with someone who isn't you. Because he doesn't like you. He'll never like you. No one will ever like you. No one here does, and no one will if you keep on destroying other people just to make you loathe yourself a little less." you finished, closing your locker and walking away from her. 

For once, you had rendered Lilly completely speechless. Lando stood still out of sight in the silence, unable to ignore the slight sense of pride that he was feeling for you. He walked past her to his own locker, and he was waiting for her to say something. 

"Erm... Lando?" she started, and he had never seen her so timid. This felt like the most genuine version of Lilly that he had ever seen, but he wasn't going to trust it. "Would you... maybe want to grab a coffee with me or something on the weekend?" she asked, and he had to use a lot of willpower to not just laugh in her face.

"Take the hint and fuck off, Lilly." he said, retrieving everything out of his locker and walking away. He had rejected girls before, and he had always felt bad about it. This time, he felt nothing but some weird sense of joy.

He liked being the one in control of situations with Lilly, because it gave her a taste of her own medicine. But he'd rather have you back. As much as he hated to admit it, he'd rather have you back. The satisfaction of going that to Lilly was incomparable to the joy he got when he was with you.

All he could hope was that she was now going to just leave him alone so that he could carry on with his life. Without Lilly, without you, just how it was those few fateful weeks ago. 

It was weird how everything had gone down over the past few weeks. He had gone from not talking to you ever, to talking to you all the time, to not, to being back at it, then practically strangers. 

Two people whose paths crossed momentarily that were now leading away from each other again. He couldn't quite tell whether he preferred his life before or after, the more he thought about it.

He had been happy before, without a care in the world. He was floating off the ground as he let the breeze of his youth carry him through life. Yet, with you, he was flying . He was soaring in the clear blue skies without  a cloud in sight. But now, it seemed like there was a permanent blanket of clouds hiding away the sun.

----

The following Saturday, your mum had dragged you out of the house to go on the weekly shop with her. You hadn't been shopping with her since you were at least ten, but she wasn't taking no for an answer today. 

All you had to do was watch as she checked her shopping list and navigated the aisles to find what she needed for this week. It was one of the most dull things you had done in a long time, and you would've done anything to be at home. Or anywhere else. 

You were snapped out of your daydreaming about more exciting activities when you heard your mum scoff to herself. You watched as her eyebrows knitted in slight frustration. "Love?" she asked, looking over at you. 

"Yeah?"

"Could you run to the bread aisle? I've accidentally picked up brioche rolls." she asked, and you just took the rolls out of the trolley and tried to find your way back to the bread aisle. You look at the signs over your head, eventually finding it, of course, at the very end of the supermarket. 

Putting the rolls back on the shelf and looking for the ones you normally got, you could've sworn you saw a familiar flash out of the corner of your eye. Curly brown locks- no, no it can't have been. Lando's family were millionaires, they shopped at Waitrose. Not Tesco.

Anyway, shoving that thought to the back of your mind, you collected the right bread rolls and went to track down your mum, wherever she was. You heard her talking to someone as you approached the dairy section, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes. You were going to be stuck here for a long time. 

But, when you turned the corner, you nearly froze. Lando's mum. Your mum. Lando. All three of them were stood there, in conversation. Well, Lando wasn't talking, but your mothers sure as hell were.

Dropping the rolls into the trolley, Lando avoided your gaze. You hoped you wouldn't have to chip into the discussion, but your mum soon ruined those hopes. "Y/N, you didn't tell me you knew Lando," she chirped, and you saw the glint in both Lando's and his mum's eyes. 

You all knew what was going on, but you had to play along with the charade anyway. "You didn't tell me you knew Lando," you countered, sending daggers towards your mum.

"We met at parents evening, I just never knew the two of you knew each other," she responded, and you wanted the floor to swallow you up. Before you got another word in, your mum piped up again. "Why don't you two go and get yourselves a table in the cafe and a hot chocolate or something?" she suggested, and none of you could come up with a reason as to why it wouldn't be a good idea.

You just sighed and started making your way over to the in-store cafe. You didn't check to see if Lando was following, since you had to come up with something to talk to him about. Or you could just sit there in silence until your mums finished shopping. 

Spotting a table in the corner, you sat down and Lando sat opposite you. You couldn't think of anything to say, something to strike up a conversation with. Lando felt the same, except for his feelings were a bit more obvious to him. 

He was annoyed, to say the least. Fate had brought you together, yet again - even when it knew that you kept on throwing your endless vaults of spanners into the works to break it all down again and again and again. 

As you fidgeted with your hands on the slightly sticky wooden table, Lando noticed the fresh looking bandages around the fingers that you had nearly sliced off. "So... how are your fingers?" he asked, and you tried to maintain eye contact as best you could and failed miserably. 

"Oh, they're doing OK. I had to go to the doctors to get them glued so that they could heal better, but they'll be OK. Scarred, but OK." you explained, and Lando felt a pang of something in his chest. You were perfect, far too perfect, and now you were going to be scarred because he wasn't quick enough to help you. 

But there it was again, that self blaming for something that truly wasn't his fault. He couldn't help be concerned, even if he kept telling himself over and over again that he hated you. He hated you for what you did to him, how his brain reacted to you. 

He hated the butterflies that fluttered to life in his stomach every time he saw you. He hated the electricity that sparked through his veins whenever the two of you made physical contact. He hated the way your smile would light up his world like the sun. 

Most of all, he hated the way he still wanted you. If you were willing to push it all aside and even just be his friend again, he'd take it. It was better than nothing. Having you as a friend was a hell of a lot better than not having you at all. 

"Well that's good," he nodded, desperate to bring up if you could be friends again. He would be your friend in secret if that's what it took. He could still drive you home, spend time with you on the weekends instead of in school.

"I'm getting a drink, you want one?" he asked, standing up from his seat and trying to read the menu from the distance you were at. He knew his mum would scold him if neither of you had a drink, or if he hadn't at least offered to get you one. 

"Could I have a hot chocolate, please?" you requested, and Lando headed off to the counter to order two hot chocolates. In an alternate universe, this was a date and he'd get to ask you to be his girlfriend after your little, impromptu hot chocolate. 

Shortly after, Lando returned with the two steaming mugs of hot chocolate and placed yours in front of you. "Thank you," you smiled, and he could've sworn he felt his heart stop. That smile. That pretty goddamn smile. The smile he was meant to loathe but could never heartily do so. 

"How much do I owe you?" you asked, rifling around in your bag for your purse.

"Hey, no, we don't do that." he said, as if there was such thing as a 'we' in this situation. He saw the slight blush that coated your cheeks, and he couldn't help but revel in it. He just wanted to spoil you rotten and love you. 

Sitting down, he was suddenly absolutely itching to just tell you everything. How much he was willing to do to get you back. "Look, I really-" he started, before he was interrupted by your mums getting back with their trolleys of shopping. 

He was going to tell you how much he missed you and how much he wanted to be your friend again, but of course your mothers just had to return at the exact wrong time. Or maybe the right time so that he didn't have to make a complete fool of himself. 

Your mum went to get coffees for the two of them, and Lando's mum was quick to strike up conversation. "Y/N, Lando told me about your hand. Really nasty accident, huh?" 

"It was, yeah. If Lando hadn't helped, I probably would've panicked and passed out," you chuckled, seeing the small flicker of shock on Lando's face. He was just doing what he thought anyone would do in that situation, and he hadn't realised how much you had appreciated his presence. 

"He just told me he got the first aid kit," she said, now guessing that Lando hadn't told her the whole story. He had gotten the part right about your sawing method to be flawed at best, and that he had given your teacher cotton wool, but the rest was missed out.  

"Oh no, he took me right to the sink, held my fingers under the water, held my hand, took me to the nurses office. He even carried on my project for me." you told her, and the pride she felt for her son was unmistakable. 

She knew he was smitten for you already, but it was nice to hear that he was still completely head over heels, even if you two weren't on the best terms right now. She was glad that she had raised him to be so thoughtful in such a situation. 

"Well, I'm glad he acted fast," she smiled as your mum returned with the coffees for the both of them. They got lost in conversation, leaving the two of you to just sit there and listen to them gossip for a while. 

"C'mon, we're going for a walk," he said, slipping off of his chair and waiting for you by the table to join him. Neither of your mums paid much notice to your departure, so the both of you just started wandering around the supermarket. 

Once you were out of earshot of your parents, Lando spoke. "Look, I really miss you, OK? I keep telling myself that I should just forget about you and move on, I can't. You were one of my closest friends and I can't keep going on pretending like we never were close." he blurted out, and you just looked at him.

You couldn't decide if you were happy with what he was saying, or upset. You were happy because it just meant he felt the same way that you did, that he missed you like you missed him. 

On the other hand, you felt so guilty. So guilty for throwing what you had away for the sake of bullies. But in the moment, that felt like the best course of action for your mental health and your sanity. 

"Please, just... be my friend again? We don't even have to talk in school, just out of school. Just so that I can still at least talk to you." he said, his eyes pleading with you to just cave and let him back into your life. "I miss you..." he repeated, and you could tell that there was more to it than what he was saying.

You knew that there was not a single teenage boy on planet earth that would be this desperate to get a girl who was just a friend back, but you couldn't say you were complaining. "Lando..." you whispered. 

Just hearing his name on your lips was enough to send him into meltdown. Yet, he couldn't tell by your tone whether the next thing you were going to say was good or bad. "I'm sorry." you said, and he was still confused. 

Were you apologising because of what you did, or because you couldn't take him back as your friend?

"I really want to be your friend again," you confessed, and he was waiting for the 'but' to come after your sentence, but he was left waiting for it. You saw a smile slowly spread across his lips, his eyes lighting up. 

"Really?" he asked, ready for you to finish off with something about how much of a bad idea all of this was.

"I miss you too. A lot." you told him, and he could practically hear his heart singing in glee. 

"Can I hug you?" he asked all too quickly. You nodded, and before you could get any words in, he wrapped his arms around you. It was so nice to have you back in his embrace, and you weren't even crying this time. 

He could've cried of joy, but he thought that that was a bit too far. He may have been a very considerate teenage boy, but he was still a teenage boy nonetheless.  "So are we friends all the time or just out of school?" he said, not showing any signs of letting go of you.

"Just out of school for now, I don't know if I can handle much more of the crap we get put through," you told him, and he was slightly disappointed. Not disappointed enough to say something and put everything in jeopardy, but disappointed enough to pull back and give you a small pout. 

"Don't give me that face," you playfully scolded, trying to shuffle out of his arms.

"What face? I don't know what you're talking about," he feigned innocence, tightening his grip around you so that you couldn't run away from him.

"Don't play dumb with me, Norris. You know what face," you pressed, and it just made his pout more prominent. 

"Nope, no idea," he laughed, tugging you back close to him. Resting his head on the top of yours, he basked in the feeling of your heart against his, being able to have you right where he wanted you. The setting of the milk aisle wasn't the most glamorous or romantic, but he didn't care. As long as he was with you. 

A/N - Merry Christmas again! Another one for you, part 5 of this series that I didn't think would do as well as it has, but hey. I am not complaining. Love y'all 💖

tag list: @dying-inside-but-its-classy @formula1mount @sltwins @mariedeyes223 @sarah-thatstings-ann @solo2leo @arian-directioner @wisestarfishbouquet @qweerasdfg-blog

|masterlist|

[darqx]

[It's going down] I'm yelling timber

Several doodles in this one!

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

Everything is similar but she wears a dress version.

Yes (after becoming a Royal) but it's more of a "formaility" as he hasn't had any reason to use it yet. There's a lot of gaps since he relies more on mobility than brute force, and he can also rapidly fill in any areas with harder ichor if need be.

He used to work for the previous King as a Collector.

I think it depends, since he's a Royal now they tend to use some variation of their demon signs as an official "signature" so it might look like the first pic. His prior signature might look something like the second (fancy cursive).

Base: [x]

Rire's ichor tentacles are directly controlled by his consciousness/sub-consciousness so yes technically they could do such things XD But that is something that would have happened more when he was a child/learning how to use the ichor powers - he has such fine control now that the likelihood of it happening anymore is negligible.

...you could kiss them if you want I suppose, he does have some feeling through them lol.

I once described Rire's ichor as existing but not existing at the same time (ah, dichotomy haha). Basically if the ichor is not connected to the manifestation point on Rire's back all trace of it will eventually disappear. So that's handy in more ways then one :d

This post goes into more detail about the ichor consistencies:

Rire was born 973 years ago and was primarily raised by his mother after both his father and then later his stepfather died when he was a child/teen.

He would raise a child similarly to how he was raised. 🤔 YMMV whether this would be considered good parenting but he does have affection towards his own parents so there's that.

Well i did draw the baby!BTD in that same picture so...however i drew them as lol XD; Thanks muchly and keep at it!

Yes the years are the same. As stated in my BTD FAQ "I don’t know if you could classify what he feels as “love” in the same definition we are used to…" :d

Short answer: no.

Long answer: if you consider real world biology it would be like this

SOME species of demons are close enough to humans that they could reproduce with them. If the offspring is viable it's usually infertile like a liger (cross between a lion and a tiger) or a mule, though sometimes/rarely it could result in fertile offspring.

This works similarly between different demon species (different ones are more compatible with certain species compared to others etc), though the likelihood of fertile offspring is greater. Also depending on the species some genes are way more dominant so a child might end up basically being more or less one species type.

[An excerpt from a World War letter. Several similar letters have been documented from both Allies and Central/Axis Powers]

My dearest, I witnessed the most peculiar scene several days ago. Honestly I am not sure if it actually happened or if my mind was playing tricks on me. I was on my evening sentry duty over No Man's land when I saw him - a man, standing alone in the fog past the razor wire and amongst those poor souls neither side had managed to retrieve. Dearest, I swear that man had not been there a second ago! At first I thought this was enemy activity, but his uniform was clearly not German and neither was it one of ours - maybe the oddness is what stayed my tongue at the time. Out of a morbid curiosity I watched as he crouched near several bodies for a long moment - perhaps to pay his respects? - before walking off and disappearing out of sight. I am honestly surprised no one had shot at him! The next day there was a large shout as a grievously injured Johnson - whom was lost in No Man's Land after a failed trench raid - was suddenly within reaching distance just over our trench walls! It was a miracle! He was delirious and had no idea how he had made it back by himself, but mentioned a "General" who had offered help in his lowest moment. Clearly he was unwell as there were no Generals around...but dearest...I can't help but wonder --

[Johnson would survive his injuries and go on to become a well decorated soldier before returning home a hero. He would die 10 years later from "idiopathic anaphylaxis" with an odd look of fear on his face.]

I'm not sure why some of you think this but to put it as clearly as I can (since this is not the first time I've been asked this):

Cain is not my character.

I would hope that you guys understand that just because someone doesnt seem to be on the internet anymore it doesnt mean their character is suddenly an adoptable/up for grabs???

No - I have enough of my own characs I dont need to actually steal someone else's. (Also see above answer)

IMO in any universe Rire and Cain are like oil and water. So, i would say yes there is a way that they could get together but it would probably involve kidnapping and criminal confinement on one of their behalfs :d

I never read Warrior Cats so I have no particular thoughts about this lol.

Demon!Strade is a Gatoverse creation XD; - meaning Gato created him and so it has no correlation with my demon types. He would probably be like a level 4 or 5 maybe (aside from being LARGE, idk about his other power sets lol) and a clear case of needing an exorcism :d

Both of them are naturally charismatic (though, Demon!Rire can dial his up to noticeably unnatural levels). Human!Rire can be considered more manipulative and subtle than the demon version since in his 'verse "real world" consequences are actually things he has to consider. He is also a bit less interested in mind games than Demon!Rire.

-...gestures at humans, which he prefers to mess with for the sheer variety of reactions-

That is not part of his skill set, no :d Also much in the same way that animals with sharp teeth don't willy nilly bite their tongues off, demons with sharp teeth are like...used to having/biologically designed to have sharp teeth.

THANKING YOU \o/

It wouldn't lol. Also if i saw Rire IRL i would immediately pretend to have NOT seen him because that would mean that I've somehow had a hand in creating a tulpa.

[alchemistc]

Let's goooo! 15. trembling hands

I already did this prompt but I've been steeping in a pile of blankets and a heating pad and miserable cramps for hours just thinking about this so:

"I just keep thinking about the last time you kissed me," Buck says, and he hates the waver in it, hates the way he has to set the neatly packed bankers box down on his island because his hands are shaking as bad as his voice.

Tommy gives him the kind of look he'd expect to see if he rounded a dark curve late at night and his headlights caught a deer crossing the road.

Total devastation lies ahead. Neither one of them gets out of this without a scratch.

He'd had a call, years back now. Some family driving home after an evening of movies and arcades and dinner, a nice newer SUV, a nervous creature who would have had plenty of time to cross into the woods but got stuck in the beam of light hurtling towards it. Until it tried to jump the vehicle right before impact.

The dad had died quick, Buck remembers. They'd only found that out later, though, because the deer hadn't died. Not then. Not right away. Not until after they'd arrived, because they'd watch the thing, stuck in the windscreen, panicked and dying and kicking.

Animal control didn't make it on scene until after the moms chest had been caved in.

Tommy's grip on the box in his own hands looks painful.

"It was just - it was the kind of kiss I figured we'd share a few thousand more times, you know?"

Nothing special, a barely there peck, an appetizer because they had places to be and they'd lost more than one reservation getting caught up before so they'd made it a habit of the greeting kiss being... quick.

"I just wish I'd known it was gonna be the last time."

It hurts to say. It hurts to think, but this one's been spinning on a loop every time he's got idle hands and an idle mind and it feels like Tommy should at least know that he -

"I have to go," Tommy says. He'd set this up with that excuse - I have some of your things, can I drop them off before work - like he could rip the bandaid and be done and Buck had spent twenty minutes folding and refolding the same pair of Tommy's sweatpants before he found the nerve to respond with a thumbs up.

"Yeah," Buck says, and takes a moment to drink in the sight of him a final time. Tommy's eyes dart to the hand still hanging at his side, fingers tapping out a rhythm against his palm, unlike the one holding onto his kitchen island like a lifeline.

This is it.

There's - nothing left to tie them together. No excuses to see each other again outside of random happenstance. He'd debated stuffing one of Tommy's zip ups into the bottom of his laundry basket for about ten minutes after Tommy let him know he was headed over, but that's in the box with everything else.

He has to look away when he realizes his vision's gone a little blurry.

"I'll... see you," Buck manages, and convinces himself he doesn't hear the blown out breath from where Tommy's standing.

He listens to the footsteps moving away. Hears the latch click and sucks in a breath so harsh Tommy has to hear it.

He remembers trying to shield those kids in the back seat from the sight of both their parents and wishes he at least had some bruises to show for the way his own chest feels like it's caving in.

The door clicks shut, and Buck turns towards it a second before he feels his chin being angled.

It's nothing like their first kiss, or the greeting kiss. This is the kiss he'd get when he couldn't shut the hell up about something and Tommy had to do something about it. The kiss they'd share when it became clear a movie wasn't holding his attention and Tommy pressed him into the couch cushions with a grin. The kiss he'd give when he was so overwhelmed by how he felt and didn't have the words to explain it so he'd poured every ounce of - of love into his lips and his tongue and his teeth because even if he didn't know how to say it he wanted Tommy to know.

It slows and settles into something soft and breathy and Buck lets the hand he'd curled over Tommy's jaw drop to his chest when they break it. Their breathing is shaky, and the hand clenched in the back of Buck's shirt shakes before he breaks the hold. Buck keeps his eyes closed. His throat is tight.

"That's - if I'd known it was the last one, that's the one I'd have wanted it to be," Tommy says, and then he's pulling away. Leaving.

The door clicks open and shut while Buck's eyes are still closed, and he stands there in silence for a good ten minutes until he's sure he can breath again. When he licks his lips he doesn't recognize the taste of the lip balm Tommy'd left behind there.

The box of Tommy's stuff is sitting on the end table.

It takes Buck four goddamn tries to type out a coherent text, with the way it's shaking in his hand.

You forgot to take your stuff, he sends.

Tommy's the kind of old school where he keeps his phone in the center console while he's driving, so he doesn't expect anything back immediately.

He refuses to let himself read into it at all. An honest mistake after leaving them both more hurt than the first time around.

He'll ask Chim to deliver it so they don't have to see each other again.

Forty-two minutes later, he happens to glance at his phone just in time to see the bubbles.

They disappear. Reappear. Disappear.

How forgetful of me.

And that's - that's all he gets for another five minutes. He nearly tosses his phone in the air when the bubbles come back, like somehow someone will have witnessed him staring at it hard enough to burn a hole through it.

Maybe you could bring it by sometime.

MVA, two adult males, significant internal injuries.

The bubbles are still there.

Think I may have forgotten a few of your things, anyway.

Buck doesn't believe that for a fucking second. He'd had a drawer, two hangers, a spot under the sink in the bathroom. Tommy's place had always reminded Buck how well suited they were, with how meticulously everything had a place.

Doesn't seem like you, Buck shoots back, and tries not to examine how close to the line of flirty he's being.

That was a terrible last kiss, Tommy sends back, almost immediately.

Buck's hands don't shake when he sends the next message. It's a blatant lie. It probably broke top ten. We could fix that.

[sandraharissa]

s2 intro was so fire. and I thought like s1 it showed/hinted at the things that would happen during this season. but most stuff didn't happen or it didn't live up to the imagery used in the intro

Vi smudging the VI tattoo. it implies that she would struggle with her identity and the name connected with it and the legacy connected with it, like Jinx did in s1. maybe this could even be her going so far as to reject the name itself, like denying that she's The Vi to keep a low profile. like how Jinx would insist that she's not Powder in s1. but none of that ever happened. Vi never struggles with 'being Vi' or what it means to her or with being Vander's prodigy even tho he's brought back from the dead.

this shot implying that this was gonna be a story about the sisters, but also that Jinx is Vi's burden or her shadow or a demon on her shoulder. but to explore Vi's feelings on her sister and what she's become they'd have to try to explore Vi at all

this shot which implies to me 'Jinx being Jinx' cos it's a callback to when she does the finger gun in s1, but even more so to when she does it as a kid in the Enemy MV. in the scene she, when she still went by Powder, aims a finger gun at enforcers and as she pretend fires at them it flashes to Jinx standing there. so a 'Jinx was always Jinx' message. but it also alludes to her having a target like the firelight in s1 or the enforcers in the MV, who she always hated.

the two times we see Ekko he reverses time, which ig he technically does but the meat of his story is him going to a parallel universe, not going back in time. idk ig I thought that time travel would be more relevant to Ekko's story than parallel universe travel. in the end time travel is only meaningfully used for the timebomb angst scene even tho it's not really necessary there. ig I thought the powers would be more relevant to Ekko's whole character and arc. in an Ekko lol short he reverses time to defeat the bad guy and when he finally succeeds it's at the cost of the destruction of the mural for dead kids, and so he goes back in time again. that's more meaningful than anything they did with firelights in s2 (and arguably more meaningful than the timebomb scene). why did they drop the sick tree plotline? the firelights? his past with Jinx? his involvement in the revolution? the past vs present and saving the things we love? I swear they were teasing me with an epic time travel episode but delivered a parallel universe (derogatory) episode.

this type of shots made me think that Cait would actually struggle internally to an extreme degree with her actions and how the power corrupts her etc. that she'd become horrified of what she's become. and how she'd hate and struggle with maintaining her appearances to the public.

the first shot made it seem like, just like Cait, Jayce would struggle with public attention and maybe scrutiny, considering he was the head of the council in s1. but then the first thing he does this season is resign and that's that for him being a public persona and struggling with his reputation even tho s1 and his lol lore focus on that. like that stuff's so juicy don't get rid of that.

the second shot hints to me at him discovering smth grand/important connected to the arcane, which ig kinda happened but what it ended up being is that Jayce got transported to a bad universe and learned that arcane bad. meanwhile this shot evokes to me smth more awe-inspiring, idk like smth mystical and magical, arcane, you could say. with white bright light often being used in media to communicate divinity. wild runes mumbo jumbo and Jayce being transported to a bad arcane universe seem so pedestrian compared to like, heavenly lights ig.

both concepts for Jayce's story that were introduced in the intro and the eps delivered on neither.

I don't remember the french revolution ending with the ppl teaming up with the royalty. I also don't get the impression that there are any french revolution stories out there with the hero thinking the revolution is an irritating nuisance. this parallel is so extremely unwarranted and borderline offensive.

Viktor did turn out to be evil and he did get a cult as this shot implied but the mask obvs references his lol mech suit that he never gets. there was no reason for him to be designed the way he was, as an arcane deity with specifically a mask, outside of for the purpose of having the faintest similarity to his lol design. the mask, the cult, all that third arm imagery in s1? it all references his lol lore, for nothing, cos they took his character in a drastically different direction. talk about blue balls. and same thing with the light as with Jayce, the light coming from the mask implies Revelations connected to the mask but also loss of identity/being consumed by it. maybe a glorious evolution? idk it again just feels like someone knew what the fans wanted but it wasn't the writers. but someone still put all this in the intro. teasing a better story that we'll never get to see.

there's also all the Black Rose imagery that seemed important even tho they weren't in the end. it being connected to Mel (politician) and Ambessa (politician/warrior) made me think that they would focus on the Black Rose being a political organization that wants smth connected to Piltover and the PnZ conflict, with all the imagery of holding the rose/squishing the rose/being the rose/picking up the rose alluding to the political scheming between Ambessa/Mel/the Black Rose. but they went the route of out of nowhere making Mel magic. imagine if in a random ep of s1 they made Silco magic.

why? why why why why why?

the intro did more for all the character arcs than the episodes themselves

[inexplicifics]

#7 - geralt/eskel

#11 - Broken Lock verse milena/lambert/aiden

#14 - Jaskier/Geralt

If any of those tickle your fancy, cheers!

Geralt feels the tension drain from his shoulders as he rounds the last bend and Kaer Morhen finally looms into view. It may be cold and bleak and full of terrible memories, but it’s still home as long as old Vesemir keeps the fire burning, as long as his brothers return each winter to drink and share stories and keep company together through the coldest months.

As long as Eskel makes it back, it’s home.

And thank fuck, when he leads Roach into the stable it’s to find Scorpion already in a stall, looking sleek and well-groomed, which is a damn good sign. Geralt untacks Roach and brushes her down and puts a blanket on her and makes sure her stall has water and oats and hay, and leaves her to get reacquainted with Scorpion and the handful of other horses - Lambert’s nameless gelding, Frank’s sturdy mare Easy, Gardis’s high-strung Jitters and Vesemir’s nondescript Stomper, and the ancient donkey which everyone just calls Bitey for good and valid reasons.

Geralt pats each of them on the nose as he leaves the stable, of course, even Bitey. Dodging the donkey’s teeth is good practice, after all.

Snow is starting to blow across the courtyard as he crosses it, and he hunches his shoulders and tucks his nose into his scarf as the bitter wind bites through his clothes and armor like they aren’t even there. Sometimes he thinks it gets colder here every winter.

The door is heavy, but it’s set into an alcove so the wind doesn’t blow it out of Geralt’s hands. He trudges up the stairs to the room he and Eskel share, setting his bags down near the door and hanging his coat on a hook and taking a moment to bury his face in Eskel’s cloak and breathe in deeply. No perfumer in the world would make a scent that’s mostly leather and blood and bitter potions ingredients and a strange sharp topnote that is probably pure Chaos, but Geralt thinks it’s the second finest scent in the world.

And then he makes his way back down the stairs, down past the main level to the kitchen-basement, and slips in through the half-open door to what may actually be the witcher version of heaven, or at least Geralt’s heaven:

A warm, well-lit room with a steaming pot of stew on the back of the fire and the scent of fresh-baked bread filling the air, and Eskel, his shirtsleeves rolled up to bare brawny forearms and his collar open almost to his navel, wielding an oven peel as skilfully as he does his sword. He pulls the last loaf out of the oven and sets it on the counter to cool, then hangs the peel on its hook and turns to Geralt, smiling the crooked perfect smile that Geralt dreams of when the Path is hard.

“Wolf,” he says softly, and opens his arms.

Geralt stumbles forward into the offered embrace, tucking his nose against Eskel’s neck and smelling fresh bread and clean sweat and sharp Chaos - Eskel home, Eskel safe, Eskel uninjured and relaxed, which is the actual finest scent in all the world.

“‘Skel,” he mumbles, and Eskel chuckles, closing his arms even tighter until Geralt can feel his back creak. He squeezes just as hard.

He’s not sure how long they stand there, clinging to each other, but at last Geralt sighs and lifts his head and Eskel’s scarred lips meet his in a kiss that starts soft and ends deep and hungry, and then because neither of them wants the lecture from Vesemir about appropriate places to fuck (which do not include the kitchen), they settle at the long battered table and Eskel breaks open a loaf of fresh bread and they eat warm bread dripping with butter and honey, shoulders pressed against each other, and Geralt thinks the whole long slogging year upon the Path was worth it for this moment right here.

(Or HERE on AO3!)

[magnoliasandarson]

on the rocks

Jason Todd drinks. This surprises people. Dick, for one, had a particularly comical reaction to watching his baby brother grab a beer after patrol. It had been over the top, a dramatic gasp, a demand to see some valid ID- the works. Jason told him to fuck off and plopped down on the couch. Dick had stayed standing for a moment, searching for some sort of crisis in his baby brother, before joining him with his own bottle.

Jason Todd goes to bars. This, too, surprises people. All of the Bats know, for some reason Jason can't confront, about Willis Todd. They all know to look for the smallest twitch- the faintest microexpression to give away that Jason is in some sort of post-traumatic panic. Every loud, drunk idiot makes them place a hand on his arm like they're scared he's going to blow up. Jason usually ignores them and finds a quiet corner.

Jason Todd attends Wayne Galas. It had been a slow process, getting him to don an actual suit and smile for the cameras. He had done it before... everything- had happily lined up to be part of Gotham's circus. But after being declared legally not-dead, he assumed his family wouldn't parade their zombie around. He was wrong.

So now, he leans up along the polished metallic wall of an overly grandiose banquet hall and longs for the days when his family hated him. Maybe he's being melodramatic. But who really cares? If anyone has earned the right to be a bit dramatic, it's the guy who died during the rehearsals for his sophomore production (he'll always be bitter about that). The starched lines of his suit itch- and the Gotham elite give him a wide berth. He wants desperately to leave.

Brucie is out and about- in rare form to boot. He's got a model on either arm, sloshing expensive whiskey onto one of their glimmering gowns, grinning ear to ear as he slurs out a story about skiing. Jason wants to punch him in his perfect face. Equally drunk snobs crowd around Brucie, eating up the prince of Gotham's every word. The crowd lives for his ridiculous act, and Jason hates him for it.

Way back when Jason had worn the stupid leotard and pixie boots, Brucie went sober. He was still a charming idiot because, of course, he was, but due to his new ward's troubled past, he gave up liquor. It had been a nice gesture, one that made young Jason feel like Bruce loved cared about him in a real way. Guess that streak ended when Jason did.

Dick was in his periphery, glancing over every couple of seconds like he was waiting for Jason to go green. Jason really couldn't give a damn; there was no confusing Brucie for Willis, even if they were both mean bastards. There is no danger of a violent hand or Batarang tonight; he knows that. There would be a crowd of witnesses, and neither man would've ever done anything with an audience.

Brucie snatches an expensive-looking bottle away from a passing server, and Jason is done. He knocks back the last of his drink and shrugs off his brother's hand.

The scar tissue wrapped around his throat burns as he storms out.

[in1-nutshell]

Hi, is okay to do a request? A Christmas or New Years?

With TFA Silver Aid (you can also with TFA Ironhold, Ophelia, & Fearless, if they live in a same universe)

Or any other Buddy you like?

(also Take care & Merry (Early/Late) Christmas & Happy New Year!)

Made it just in time!

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!!

Hope you enjoy!

Silver Aid, Ophelia, Ironhold and Fearless Christmas

SFW, Platonic, Famialal, Hinted Romance, Cybertonian/ Technoorganic/ Human reader

TFA

The idea of the holiday was introduced by Fearless.

It had just started snowing in the area when the human started bringing in boxes.

The Con’s didn’t question it at first.

Ophelia honestly thought that Fearless was finally moving in.

Ironhold also thought about this idea but kept to themselves.

They both were a bit upset when they found out that Fearless was not moving in.

Please ignore Ironhold’s blueprints to make a human room in the base.

No one saw them.

They don’t exist.

Silver Aid was getting a bit worried about the resident human when they started bringing in heavier boxes.

Soon Fearless asked for a meeting.

Megatron: “Let me understand this clearly.” Fearless pauses their presentation on the history of presents. Fearless: “Yeah?” Megatron: “You expect us to participate in some Earth holiday for fun?” Fearless: “Well, not entirely true but yes!” Megatron: “I’m afraid I’m going to have to put a damper on your plans.” Ophelia raises her servo. Ophelia: “It does sound nice to participate Father.” Ironhold coughs a bit: “It may boost moral as well.” Silver Aid: “The concept does sound lovely.” Starscream: “The colors aren’t so hideous to look at.” Blitzwing: “The scenery does look nice.” Lugnut: “Can we invite Strika to the holiday?” Megatron: “Enough! We are not celebrating this ‘Christmas’.” Ophelia gives his a pleading look. He looks away refusing to give in. Silver Aid: “Megatron—” Megatron: “I have made my decision Silver Aid.” Fearless crosses their arms. Fearless: “I guess I’ll have to drag all my stuff over to the Autobots then.” Megatron’s optic twitches a bit. Fearless: “And I bet Optimus would let me—" Megatron suddenly stands up. Megatron: “Everyone get to work on this Christmas thing!”

 Lugnut and Ironhold are in charge of getting the tree.

Lugnut would have gone by himself, but it was it was clear to everyone that someone needed to watch him.

At least so he could pick a real tree and not some telephone pole.

It took a few tries before the pair managed to squeeze in a giant tree into the base.

Thank goodness Fearless thought about bringing scraps of metal to make more ornaments.

Starscream and Blitzwing were in charge of placing the lights and ornaments on the tree.

The Second in Command takes a liking to the shinier ornaments.

Ophelia and Silver Aid have caught him looking at his reflection in them.

Blitzwing loved putting the weirder and bigger ornaments.

Somehow managed to tangle his wings and Starscreams in the tree lights.

Neither of them knows how this happened.

Silver Aid and Megatron help with the lights around the base.

Using her alt mode, Silver is able to reach the higher and more narrow parts on the ceiling.

Megatron may or may not have used this as n excuse to ‘help’ her in the higher places that didn’t need an alt mode.

Has he caught her blushing after lifting her up with one servo to get the door frame?

…No… At least that he knows of…

Ophelia and Fearless are in charge of gift wrapping and making sure that no one tried to open their gifts before time.

Some culprits already caught were Starscream, Random Blitzwing and for some reason Ironhold.

Ironhold refuses to tell them why they were trying to peak at the presents.

But there was one last thing that Fearless needed to do…

Ironhold has Fearless in their servos. They were both walking to the final doorway in the base. Ironhold: “Explain to me again why you are putting a plant on a string above the doorways? Does it smell that bad in here?” Fearless finishes taping the last of the mistletoe. Fearless: “Listen Hold, I can not stand another YEAR of Silver and Meg’s pinning for each other. I’m going to speed run this slow burn as fast as I can, and mistletoe is the first step.” Ironhold: “But what is the plant going to do?” Fearless: “If two people—er bots, stand underneath it, they have to kiss.” Ironhold: “Oh… Oh!” Fearless: “Quick hide! Lia’s bringing them over!” They both hid behind a corner just as Ophelia ran to their side. She hid behind Ironhold’s pede. Fearless was in Ironhold’s open servo. Ophelia: “Here they come!” Both Con’s walk into the room. Silver Aid: “Did you see where Ophelia went?” Megatron: “She probably—what is that?” Silver Aid looks up at the tiny plant Megatron was pointing. Silver Aid: “Oh! That is Mistletoe! Fearless mentioned that you have to kiss under it. Megatron freezes for a second. Megatron: “Wha—” The Technoorganic gently holds his servo and kisses the back of it and smiles at him. Silver Aid: “This is such a sweet holiday! I’m going to tell Lugnut to bring Strika next time around!” Silver Aid walks off leaving a buffering Megatron to stare at his servo. Ironhold and Ophelia wince at the sight. Ironhold: “Well that was painful—HEY! HEY!” Fearless tries to swan dive off of Ironhold’s servos. Fearless: “I CAN’T TAKE ANOTHER YEAR OF THIS!!!! I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS SLOW OF A SLOW BURN!!!” Ophelia: “FEARLESS DON’T!!” Ironhold: “YOU’RE TOO TINY I CAN BARELY HOLD YOU!!! STOP TRYING TO JUMP!!!” Fearless: “NEVER!!!”  

[loving-family-poll]

2nd Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 1

Propaganda under the cut:

Klaus/Elijah:

Immortal vampire brothers who have spent a thousand years hurting and loving one another. An elder brother who carries the guilt of not protecting his little brother from the horrors of their childhood and a bastard-child younger brother who considers himself both outcast and judge, jury, and executioner to his siblings’ wrongdoings. Their immortal vow to stand as one, always and forever, has led to a millennium of talking past one another, taking away each other’s loved ones, and, of course plotting the downfall of their enemies together. When faced with death, neither can bear to go alone, and vow instead to die in each other’s arms. Which they do.

They have lived every life possible and yet they can’t escape each other. They have canonically been in love with the same woman at least twice. Elijah falls in love with the woman who Klaus HAD A BABY WITH. Normal brother behavior!!! Klaus begged Elijah to run away with him when they were kids and Elijah is still haunted 1000 years later by the fact that he refused. Elijah once came up with a whole-ass plot to murder Klaus but at the last second couldn’t bring himself to do it and betrayed everybody he allied with to save Klaus instead. They just can’t quit each other!!! And when Klaus is suffering some magical bullshit and has to die, Elijah’s like “yeah I’ll die with you, my life is meaningless without you.” Brothers of all time!

Part of Klaus hates Elijah because he will never be him and his siblings will never love him and respect him the same way (I'm saying siblings, but I really mean Rebekah) but he would also die for him in a heartbeat. He would never admit it but he's living for the attention that Elijah gives him, no matter what kind. He would probably be happy in a polycule with him and his sister if he wasn't chronically paranoid that they actually hate him and want to get rid of him. By which point he punishes them by putting them in a magic coma for a few centuries and bringing their bodies with him everywhere he goes.

https://www.tumblr.com/icebluecyanide/170419680277/dont-speak-to-me-of-elijah-he-loves-you-yes-he

“I need you, brother. The monster in me can only be checked by the monster in you.”

Rick/Morty:

Grandpa/grandson interdimensional soulmates. Literally canonically Rick genetically engineered Morty to be his perfect companion and replacement wife.

Morty canonically desperate for the approval of his grandpa, ignoring his faults and the toxic dynamics as long as he gets to feel like the ‘favorite’? While also being horny? Morty and Rick even have a magical threesome at some point which they seem so blaze about it feels like them fucking on an adventure has happened before.

theyre pretty much canon. they got married. give grandpa a kiss

[illuminatedquill]

Story Summary: The rebels on Atollon base take a much-needed rest for the holidays. However, Sabine is not in a festive mood since she has noticed Ezra slipping away during some nights to spend time with Nadia Arcossa, a beautiful young Rebel pilot that has recently joined the Rebel cell. With no one on the Ghost crew willing to disclose what her best friend is up to, an increasingly jealous Sabine decides to investigate . . .

For @ana-cantskywalker

Happy Holidays! Hope you enjoy this present from your Secret Santa.

Her quarry was slowly approaching, Sabine could sense. With quiet, steady footsteps, walking into the Ghost's communal area. The hour was late - or early, depending on how you viewed it; Sabine had been lying in wait since the early evening, choosing her spot carefully for its vantage point. It was during these moments that she felt grateful for her time spent in the bounty hunter business with Ketsu. Hunting and tracking, something ingrained into every Mandalorian warrior since birth, could only truly be honed with experience.

In the shadows she waited, senses keen and sharp, tracking her target. She inhaled slightly as he entered cautiously into the room; a familiar, pleasant musk drifted over to her.

Sweat.

Not from being nervous, but from whatever physical activity he had been doing in the hours prior. What could he be doing that would cause him to sweat during this late at night, she wondered.

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, gut churning at the twisting feelings arising within her.

There was a quick exhalation of breath from the quarry, signaling relief. He seemed to think the coast was clear - that no one had been watching and waiting for his return.

Sabine smirked. Your mistake, goober.

She snapped her fingers. The lights came on.

Frozen, like a loth-cat caught within a trap, standing in the communal area entryway mid-step, was her best friend, Ezra Bridger, Jedi-in-training. Eyes wide, mouth agape, his sky-blue eyes swiveled over to her, sitting calmly at the nearby round table they used for meetings.

A choking noise came from the young Jedi's mouth. Sabine enjoyed watching her panic for a few seconds, savoring the sheer look of terror on his face, before speaking.

"Hey, Ezra," she said casually. "Where ya been?"

He was already sidling away from her, trying to go back out the doorway. "Uh . . . nowhere."

She leaned forward, smiling wolfishly. "Nowhere? Hmmm. I don't think so."

A solid mass of fur and muscle appeared behind Ezra suddenly, blocking his way out. He slowly turned around to find Zeb standing there, the Lasat's meaty arms folded across his chest.

"You can't run from this, Ezra," Zeb said.

The young Jedi shook his head. "You're helping her?" he asked, incredulous.

"She threatened me!", the Lasat complained, eyes pleading. "I accidentally broke the new steering yoke in the Phantom - you know, the one Hera just installed. She thinks the piece was faulty, but Sabine knew it was me and Hera will take it out of my hide if she ever finds out - "

Ezra snorted. "You caved big time, you big furball," he retorted.

"Focus less on him and more on me," Sabine interjected, fingers drumming impatiently on the table surface. "Answer my question, Ezra."

His face went stony with silence. "No."

Sabine's eyebrows raised perceptibly with his defiance. "No?", she repeated. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

Ezra crossed his arms, eyes sparkling with rebelliousness. "It means 'no'. I'm not telling you."

She stood up from her seat, trying to reign in her patience - and failing miserably. "You've been sneaking out in the middle of the night and coming back early morning. What are you up to, goober? Why aren't you telling me?"

Sabine cracked her knuckles, as an added effect. Ezra winced at the sound but, to her surprise, he stood his ground.

Both of them glared at each other, neither backing down.

Then -

"What are you all doing at this ungodly hour."

Kanan Jarrus, Jedi Knight and Ezra's mentor, had arrived. He was dressed in rumpled sleepwear, his hair disheveled. Although his scarred eyes availed him no vision, there was still the sense that the older Jedi saw everything before him clearly. A chagrined Zeb stood hunched over, scratching at his head.

"Sabine bullied me into doing this, Kanan," he whined.

"Yeah, she knows about you breaking the Phantom's new steering yoke," Kanan said, exasperated. "Everyone does."

Zeb froze, his ears twitching in shock. "What - does Hera know?"

The Jedi clapped his friend on the shoulder. "She does. Best go to sleep now and enjoy your last night of freedom. Hera's got a list of chores for you to do when you wake up."

The big Lasat deflated, shoulders slumping in defeat. "How many? And for how long?"

"Many, many chores. Enough to last a lifetime - even for a Lasat," Kanan replied.

Zeb whimpered, cast a sad look around at his friends, and then shuffled off to his bunk. Kanan sighed. "Poor guy."

Ezra immediately slid behind Kanan, putting his mentor between him and Sabine. "Need your help, Master."

Kanan snorted. "Quick with the honorifics, eh? Scared of Sabine?"

"Always," said Ezra.

"Very wise of you," Kanan said. He frowned at his padawan. "You were with Nadia tonight?"

A face flashed through Sabine's memory at the name; a human female rebel pilot, slightly older than her. Sun browned skin, cropped auburn hair, jade green eyes, with a wicked grin. She had showed up a month ago and had become the darling of Atollon's rebel cell since her appearance backed by glowing performance reviews from Commander Sato. Rumor had it that she had been recruited by Mon Mothma herself.

Sabine had only caught a handful of glimpses at her - each time with a nagging sense of familiarity. She could not pin her name or face down, but Sabine swore that they had crossed paths before . . .

She shook her head. None of that mattered. She had a new line of inquiry to pursue regarding Ezra's late night jaunts.

"Nadia?" Sabine asked sharply. "Nadia Arcossa? That new rebel pilot?"

Ezra cast a nervous glance at her but answered Kanan's question with a simple nod. The older Jedi sighed.

"Right," he said tiredly. "You can go to your room. I'll cover for you."

"Cover what?" asked Sabine, annoyed. "What are you all hiding from me?"

Her friend gave her a guilty look, opening his mouth to say something - and then, deciding last second, kept it shut.

"I'm sorry, Sabine," he said in a sincere tone. "It'll make sense in a couple days, I promise." He ducked out into the doorway, before Sabine could say anything back.

Which just left her and Kanan alone in the communal area.

"I suspect you have questions," he said, grinning.

She ground her teeth in frustration but kept a calm tone. "A few, yeah."

He held out a hand in a placating gesture. "I'll answer the most pressing one first, before you blow a gasket."

"Blow a - I'm not angry. Who's angry, not me," Sabine sputtered. "Why would I be angry about the goober's late-night wanderings with Arcossa?"

Kanan raised an eyebrow. "Can I finish?"

With a heroic effort, Sabine kept her mouth shut and nodded in a jerky fashion.

"It's nothing . . . nefarious," Kanan said, wiggling his eyebrows up and down in comical fashion at that last word. "He's learning something from Nadia. That's all."

She crossed her arms. "Aren't you the Jedi Master? What can he learn from her, that you can't teach him?"

Kanan's grin widened. "There are some things even I don't know, Sabine. He's in good hands, don't worry. Nadia is plenty knowledgeable about what she's teaching."

At the mention of hands, images burst free to the forefront of Sabine's thoughts, flooding her mind.

Hands, roaming over sun-kissed skin.

Ezra leaning close to beautiful Nadia's face, their lips inching closer and closer -

She shook herself roughly, desperately trying to clear her head of such thoughts.

No.

No, that was not happening. Not on her watch.

"I'll take your word for it," she said, trying to sound casual.

It didn't work. Kanan snorted and said, "I don't need to be a Jedi to know you're lying, Sabine."

"Yeah?" she challenged, sticking her hands firmly on hips. "What are you going to do about it?"

He laughed. "Watch from a safe distance."

_ _ _ _ _

The next few days were filled with a busy assortment of activities and work as Atollon base geared up to celebrate Life Day. The hangar was being converted into a dance hall, complete with a stage set up for music. Some of the rebels there were musicians and were planning a medley of festive songs to accompany the dancing.

Others were cooking up a storm in the makeshift kitchens, bringing various cuisines from all over the galaxy to feed everyone. It promised to be a relaxing, fun event which was sorely needed to boost morale during these dark times. Commander Sato himself was planning to sing, having studied opera while growing up.

It was a much-needed reminder of what they were all fighting for. Some days the war was all they had. But there had to be other things. And Life Day was a celebration of that.

Sabine did her best to keep an eye on the wandering Ezra, catching glimpses of him all over the base engrossed in different activities while helping out. She had an ugly suspicion that he was using the preparations as an excuse to hide from her since their confrontation. She was busy herself, having volunteered for a dozen different projects to help set up the upcoming event's festivities. The hours flew by, faster than light it seemed.

She did, however, see Nadia several more times. Looking at her more closely, Sabine was once again filled with a nagging sense that they had met before. It wasn't a particularly good feeling either; it resembled a stone, sitting heavy in the pit of her stomach. And it grew heavier every time she saw Nadia interact with Ezra. Always they talked in hushed whispers, a few gentle laughs, and always it seemed Nadia found an excuse to touch Ezra in an affectionate manner.

An amused Kanan continued to watch from the sidelines, as he promised, which only further annoyed her. Whenever she managed to snag time to question him again, the Jedi continued to remain frustratingly silent on the whole affair. Hera also was of a similar disposition and a woeful Zeb was too busy with the endless list of chores Hera had set up for him as punishment to talk.

At the end of the last day before the celebration, Sabine decided she could take it no longer. It was time for action.

_ _ _ _ _

The normally arid temperature of Atollon had dropped precariously as the planet approached what resembled winter. Sabine had fared far worse - particularly on her on home world, Krownest - but tonight she was forced to dress light, without her customary beskar armor. Night was falling fast across the desert planet, and the thin cloak she wore in place of her armor was little protection against the cold.

Through some careful observation and more tracking, she had finally located the small bunker where Nadia and Ezra were doing their secret activities together on the perimeter's edge of Atollon base. Far away from wandering eyes, it was still used as a storage for excess supplies and munitions, but not a high enough priority to be watched constantly.

From an outcropping of rocks nearby, she waited for the pair to arrive. They did so, ten minutes later; Ezra dressed in his usual outfit, Nadia still wearing his flight uniform. Sabine watched Ezra scan around them, his face relaxing when he saw nothing suspicious. He muttered something to Nadia, who keyed an access code into the bunker's door. They entered with a hurry, eager to get out from the cold.

Sabine had caught the access code from his hiding spot, but it would be stupid to waltz through the front door. She needed to see what they were doing that required such secrecy. Unfortunately, the bunker was solidly built - only one way in or out. Which meant that she had to get creative.

It still needed a ventilation system to preserve the supplies inside. That was her ticket in - or so she hoped. This was uncharted waters for her, since Ezra was usually the one to scurry around a Star Destroyer or Imperial Base air vents.

Sneaking around to the back, she found her opening and quietly uncovered the access port leading inside.

"Dank ferrik," she whispered, the moment a proper look was available of her entryway.

It was narrow. Extremely narrow. She looked down at her clothes, grimacing.

Need to shed more layers to fit, she thought.

It occurred to her, not for the first time, that crawling into an old air duct to spy on her best friend and his beautiful female acquaintance was beyond insanity. But, then again, nothing felt sane these days. Sabine had felt off-balance since those creepy caves on Dathomir. It wasn't being possessed by the spirits of witches long dead that unsettled her - it was what she had found in those dark caves that filled her with dread about the future.

The Darksaber. An ancient weapon with a loaded history that gave its wielder the right to rule Mandalore.

And it was now in her possession. Oh, the things she could do with it . . .

She shook her head free of such despairing thoughts. It was something Sabine desperately did not want to think about right now.

With a deep breath, she stripped down, leaving only her thin undergarments to at least feel some miniscule sense of modesty. Folding her clothes neatly into a pile next to the vent opening, she wriggled her way inside, managing a clumsy sort of half-crawl to move forward.

She made her way through the ventilation system's guts for a good fifteen minutes by her estimation. The interior of the duct system hadn't been cleaned in a long while; cobwebs, dust, and other detritus cluttered inside, scraping at her exposed skin. Sabine winced at raw scrapes, her grip becoming slippery with sweat as she struggled through the air duct.

Finally, she began to hear voices reverberating through the vent: Ezra, followed by Nadia's. She saw a light up ahead - another opening. Hopefully, she could get a view of what was happening below inside the bunker.

With a final huff of effort, she reached the opening -

The metal beneath her suddenly shifted with an alarming groan. Sabine froze, heart thumping painfully against her ribs.

Oh, kriff, she thought. The realization hit that the vent was probably made from cheap durasteel that was not built for a human to crawl through.

Ezra's voice came then, sounding wary: "What was that?"

"Sounds like it came from above," said Nadia. "From the vents . . . maybe a rat?"

"Sounds too big to be a rat," replied Ezra nervously. "Maybe we should - "

With a horrible screech, the metal beneath Sabine gave way and she fell through the air -

Only to be caught in an invisible grip, a mere few inches from the solid concrete floor. All around her, small pieces of concrete and steel pelted the floor, but Sabine remained unharmed.

She looked up to find Ezra, his expression started but his hand outstretched. Her best friend's eyes flashed with worry, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he concentrated holding her steady with the Force.

Next to him was Nadia. Her expression was settling into one of gentle bemusement.

Sabine suddenly remembered how she looked to the both of them: dirty, bruised, scratched, and mostly naked.

"You can set me down now, Ezra," she said quietly.

He did so. The worry in his eyes never faded entirely but new emotions began to flicker forth: annoyance and frustration. Ezra reached behind him and grabbed a towel off a nearby crate. With a flick of his hand, he tossed it to her. Sabine caught it gratefully and began to wrap it around herself.

The young Jedi folded his arms. "Explain," he said.

Sabine shrugged. There was nothing she could say to salvage this situation.

"You were spying on us," Nadia observed wryly.

Ezra groaned and buried his face into his hands. "Sabine . . . "

Well, she thought. I came this far.

"So," she started casually. "What have you guys been up to?"

_ _ _ _ _

The Life Day celebration festivities were in full swing when Sabine arrived. She was not in her usual get-up, instead choosing to wear a shimmer-silk dress colored with a blend of lavender and sunburst orange hues that fell just past her knees and a pair of sandals with straps that wrapped up her thighs. Where Hera had procured such a dress, Sabine had no idea but was moved by the Twi'lek's generosity.

She scanned the crowd inside the main hangar bay, searching for Ezra. Hera and Kanan were already on the dance floor, holding each other close and swaying to the music. Zeb, given a one-night reprieve from his punishment, was partying it up with a group of rebels in a corner, taking a swig of some green colored liquor from a glass jug. Chopper trundled around, taking in the sights, the droid's tiny mechanical widgets balancing a tray of appetizers. Somehow, Hera had bullied him into playing butler for the evening.

"You clean up well," came a voice from behind her. She turned to find Nadia, surprisingly still in her flight uniform.

"You're not going to dance?" Sabine asked, frowning.

Nadia smiled at her. It looked a little sad, she noted. "I've got orders to ship out in the morning," she replied. "I'm just here to say good-bye to everyone."

Sabine nodded. The last night's events were still vivid in her memory, and she struggled not to feel embarrassed in Nadia's presence. She - and a flustered Ezra - had explained that he had been taking dancing lessons from her. It wasn't just an old dance, either - this style was specifically used for Mandalorian royalty, back in the old days. Ezra had been hoping to surprise her during the Life Day celebration.

It was then it had clicked for Sabine why Nadia looked so familiar.

The rebel pilot was Mandalorian. Clan Arcossa. She and Sabine had been classmates during the early days of Mandalorian training. Not quite friends - more like friendly rivals.

Nadia smirked at her. "Humbled to know that the infamous Sabine Wren finally recognizes me."

"Hey," countered Sabine. "It's been a while. Last time I saw you, you were all curls and missing teeth."

"Yeah," shot back Nadia. "You were the reason for those missing teeth, if I recall."

Sabine laughed. "How's your family?" she asked.

Nadia's smile vanished. "Dead," she said.

Sabine felt her stomach drop at the revelation. She reached out and gripped Nadia's arm with an affectionate squeeze. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "How?"

The smile came back, full of bitterness. "Same story as everyone else here, I think," she said. "The Empire. My parents were trying to stay neutral throughout this whole war. I was trying to convince them otherwise. It didn't matter, in the end. The Empire made the decision for them."

"Hail, Countess Arcossa," said Sabine.

Nadia snorted. "Thanks, I guess. Never wanted it like this. And speaking of Countess . . . "

She leaned forward, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Word is that your mother is looking for you."

It was Sabine's turn to smile bitterly. "She can keep looking," she answered. "I have no interest in going back."

Although I might need to, she thought. Very soon, at that. Don't know how much longer I can put off that reunion.

Nadia nodded. "I get that. I haven't heard good things about Clan Wren lately."

"Yeah," said Sabine bitterly. "I know."

Nadia raised a glass in mock cheer. "To our families."

Sabine snorted. "May they continue to be complicated."

The rebel pilot tipped back her glass and drank. "Your boyfriend has arrived, by the way," she noted.

Sabine whipped her head around quick enough to cause a crick in her neck. But, sure enough, there he was: dressed formally in a layered robe tunic, with a dress vest, black seamed pants and polished black boots that rode up to his calves.

He looked handsome. Ezra saw her and gave a cheerful wave. Despite her antics from last night, he didn't seem to be harboring any grudges. Although, Sabine suspected, he would want to talk with her about it later. She gave him a gesture that meant to wait a couple minutes while she finished talking with Nadia.

Ezra gave her a swift acknowledgment and made a beeline towards Chopper with the appetizers. The droid stuck out his electric probe and zapped him as a greeting.

It took a full ten seconds for Sabine to register what Nadia had said fully. "Hey," she said, turning to look back at the rebel pilot and finding a smug expression on her face. "He is not my boyfriend."

"Uh-huh," replied Nadia. "Sure."

"He's not," Sabine insisted. "We're just . . . we're partners. That's it."

"Is that so?" Nadia asked. "Well then, you won't mind if I - "

She stuck out an arm, shoving (politely, in her point of view) Nadia back from taking a step towards her friend. "No, I do mind, actually."

The fellow Mandalorian smirked. "Case closed, I think. If you don't act on it soon, Wren, then someone else will. He's an amazing partner. Not just in dance, although he is kind of hopeless. Two left feet, but he's sincere about it."

Sabine's eye began to twitch. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Great smile, easy on the eyes, and he's good with his hands. Knows where to place them."

She gritted her teeth but stayed quiet.

Nadia paused. "Shame about that haircut, though."

Sabine's cheeks flushed. "That was me," she confessed.

The other girl stared at her. "You did that to him? Maybe I was wrong about you two."

"I was mad at him," Sabine replied, exasperated from just thinking about the memory. "We went out to Ilum - "

"Ilum? That place is crawling with Imperials last I heard."

"Yeah, but he needed a kyber crystal from there to complete building his second lightsaber. Things went sideways and he got . . . "

Words failed her then, trying to describe the dark, difficult journey Ezra had undergone on that planet. It had left him changed - and their relationship was forever altered, as well.

She sighed. "Story for another day," she said. "Not relevant right now."

"I'll take your word for it," Nadia said. "You know, I've never seen you struggle so much with another person. The Wren I remember always went after what she wanted."

"I don't struggle with Ezra," Sabine said, surprised.

The other Mandalorian gave her an incredulous look. "You. In the vent. Covered in dirt and bruises. Almost naked."

Sabine flushed. "That was - look, we all have our moments of temporary insanity."

"Funny thing is," Nadia said, brushing off her weak excuse, "Ezra told me that's the craziest thing he's seen you do. And if the stories I've heard about the Ghost crew are half-true, then that's saying something."

Sabine was silent, her face pensive. Nadia eyed her.

"Wren - look, you care about him. Deeply. What's the big deal?"

Finally, Sabine said in a low tone, "I found the Darksaber."

Nadia went still, her eyes widening in shock. "You - what? For real?"

She nodded. The other Mandalorian whistled.

"Yeah, that does complicate things."

"It does," Sabine agreed miserably.

For a long few seconds, neither of them spoke. Both were thinking of the ancient weapon's history - and potential future, especially in Sabine's hands.

Then, Nadia shook her head. "I don't have any words to comfort you, Wren. That's a heavy burden. But . . . this thing you have with Ezra? It's going to change things. You need to tell him how you feel. Soon."

"I can't," Sabine whispered.

"Why not? I know he'll back you up. No matter what. Tell him, Wren."

She shook her head. "I can't tell him . . . "

"Why?"

"Because, one day, I won't be able to anymore. The galaxy will break whatever promise he makes."

Nadia looked at her with pity. "I understand. In these times, it seems like we have no good choices left. But we still have to choose."

"How?" Sabine asked.

Nadia looked at her. "Whatever you can live with."

_ _ _ _ _

After saying their final farewells, Sabine made her way to the dance floor where Ezra was waiting. He was rubbing his side, muttering darkly; a small scorch mark marred his fancy dress tunic, where Chopper had zapped him earlier.

"Ready?"

He did a double take at her outfit, before standing ramrod straight. "Yes," he said, looking flustered. It was adorable.

Moving to the center of the crowd, they began to dance, keeping to the rhythm of the music being played. Ezra's Mandalorian dance technique was, as Nadi said, clumsy.

But he was trying, which all that mattered to her.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled to her, concentrating on not tripping. "I shouldn't have kept it a secret."

Sabine laughed. "You're apologizing? I'm the one who's been going stir crazy because of it."

"Well," Ezra said, "since you agree . . . "

She sighed. "You want me talk about it, huh."

"Only if you want to," he added hastily. "But I have been concerned. You've been . . . distant since Dathomir. Holed up in your room."

Sabine grimaced. "I have, haven't I?"

"Yeah," Ezra said. "Again, if you don't want to talk about it . . . "

She thought hard about what Nadia had said to her earlier.

Things were going to change very soon.

"I . . . not right now. It's something personal to me, Ezra. But I'll talk to you about it soon, I promise. Just for tonight, I want to dance with you. If that's alright."

She braced herself, expecting a recrimination. But Ezra simply said, "Okay."

Mentally, Sabine breathed a sigh of relief.

"Can I ask why you don't want to talk about it?"

She pursed her lips. "Because it will change things."

"Not us," Ezra shot back instantly. "I'm here for you. Always."

Her heart lurched at the certainty in her friend's voice. Oh, Ezra . . .

"I'll hold you to that promise, goober," she replied quietly, leaning into his embrace.

"Okay. And if you ever need reminding - ack!"

They both fell over, Ezra tripping over a familiar object - Chopper. The droid wheeled himself away, chortling over his little prank.

"That little . . . are you okay, Sabine?"

She doubled over, breathless from laughter. "I'm fine. Nadia was right; you really do have two left feet, huh."

"Yeah," he said, cheeks flushed. Ezra stuck out his hand and hauled her up to standing position.

Sighing, he admitted, "I'm no good at this. Sorry. Nadia tried her best."

Sabine looked at him, smiling a little.

The Wren I remember always went after what she wanted.

Things were going to change very soon, she knew deep down in her heart. That's why she couldn't tell him everything. Not yet.

But maybe, just for tonight, she could allow herself to be a little brave. Just for tonight, and tonight alone.

She leaned forward and gave Ezra a soft kiss on his cheek. As she pulled away, she felt a tingle of satisfaction at seeing the look of slack-jawed astonishment on his face.

Squeezing his hand affectionately, she led him back into the dance. "Don't worry, Ezra," she said. "I'll take the lead in this dance tonight."

~ epilogue ~

The morning after, Sabine wandered into the Ghost communal area for breakfast. Hera sat there, reading through her datapad.

"Good morning," said the Twi'lek.

"Morning," mumbled Sabine. The Mandalorian began to mix ingredients into a bowl for some thick porridge. Her head was pounding from all the festivities of last night.

"So," Hera said in a sly tone. "Heard you were out late with Ezra last night."

Sabine spilled her porridge. "Hmmmm? Is that so?"

"Yup."

Cleaning up her mess quickly, she grabbed what was left of her porridge and sat down at the round table, keeping a calm expression. "And is that all you heard?"

"Maybe. Saw Ezra this morning too, you know. He had a bounce in his step."

"Did he now?" It was very hard not to express smug satisfaction at hearing those words. So very hard.

"Yup."

Sabine shrugged. "Well, you know Ezra. He probably sprained his ankle or something."

Hera snorted. "Sounds like him." She got up from the table, taking her datapad with her - but not before bending down to whisper in Sabine's ear.

"Next time," she said, "might want to cover up that mark on your neck. Strains your credulity a little, otherwise."

Sabine slapped the side of her neck in horror.

Hera laughed.

[chasingbutterfliesintoeternity]

A very self indulgent, all the tropes, PJO/EPIC crossover/time travel fix-it plot

(Ithaca Saga spoilers ahead)

So I have another crossover idea (not the one I’m planning to write) that’s been living in my head, and it’s so self indulgent and ridiculous it was only ever meant for me. But post Ithaca Saga listening party, I want to write down my thoughts and share them for reasons mentioned in my previous post. I would also like to note that I have an unhealthy obsession with C-novels and this is part of the inspiration.

So this AU opens in the EPIC timeline with a very old Odysseus on his deathbed, thinking about his life and his deepest regrets: letting his crew die and never properly reconciling with Athena. And in true C-novel fashion, his regrets (and probably Athena’s) are enough let him be reborn and have a second chance to fix his life. So Odysseus dies and the next thing he knows he opens his eyes and he’s young again, standing on his ship sailing out of Troy and Eurylochus is telling him that they’re running out of supplies.

Meanwhile in the PJO timeline, Percy and Luke/Kronos are facing off in the battle for Olympus and as Luke decides to sacrifice himself Kronos lashes out one last by cursing Percy and throwing him backwards in time. Olympus is saved but Percy is missing and Poseidon isn’t happy with that result and finds a way to follow Percy through time. So now we’ve got a reincarnater meets transmigrater situation going on.

Back in the EPIC timeline, despite all his attempts to avoid it, Odysseus still has to resort to going to the cyclops island to find food. But now Odysseus is more careful and tricks Polyphemus into breaking guest right immediately before taking him out using archery or something. Unfortunately Polyphemus still finds their identity before he dies because some crew members start a war chant or something. Fortunately, no crew members die and Poseidon is a little distracted from sending more revenge than a storm because he senses forces intruding on his domain (Percy and PJO!Poseidon).

Anyways Percy gets yeeted onto the cyclops island after being flung through time and runs into Odysseus as he’s packing up supplies in the cave. Odysseus is immediately suspicious because Percy looks a lot like Poseidon and Odysseus is like 90% sure this is a mortal disguise and he’s being tested. Percy is also very on guard because he can sense that Odysseus doesn’t like him and tries not to reveal anything about himself aside from being lost and stranded, which doesn’t help this misunderstanding. Neither does the storm that follows them as they leave the island. Then Athena shows up and makes some cryptic comments to Ody about killing one son and picking up another. She equally cryptically mentions she’s not going to be around for a bit because she senses a disturbance in time and needs to check that out but treat the kid well and you’ll probably be fine.

Where’s PJO!Poseidon? Well unluckily for him he’s landed on the wrong side of the world. Luckily for Percy and Odysseus this means that EPIC!Poseidon is to busy heading that way to check out the larger domain intrusion to bother them and Percy calms the storm pretty easily. No mortal can pass Poseidon’s storm? Sure. But a demigod son of Poseidon is a loophole. By this point EPIC!Poseidon and Athena are both trying to track down PJO!Poseidon, but he keeps losing them. Not intentionally, he actually doesn’t know he’s being tracked and just haphazardly transporting from place to place because he a bit disoriented and has his powers dampened from travelling through time.

Eventually EPIC!Poseidon decides to check on that pesky mortal who killed his son… and what do you mean he’s reached his homeland? So he goes spawn camps outside Ithaca, but when Odysseus and his fleet pulls up, his attention is drawn towards Percy, the second intrusion into his domain. Which leads to this encounter

“There you are! Of course you’re with the coward”

“Hey! leave my son alone!”

“Why are there two of you!?”

That last one is Athena, who’s finally tracked down the disturbance in the force.

So they’re all doing the Spider-Man meme right outside of Ithaca.

Anyways PJO!Poseidon convinces his past self that having a grudge against Odysseus isn’t worth it. Odysseus, who has already lived through this is probably darkly amused. But also very bemused at how easily he managed to get everyone home. Athena figures out how to get the PJO timeline seaweed brains home and everyone lives happily ever after.

[rizzoreads88]

I just want to tell you even though I have never shipped elriel its so nice to see at there are some elriels out there who love Lucien.one thing I can stand about most elriel shippers is they try to villianize Lucien all the time.

Hi anon,

Ohh man is this going to be a loooonngg response ….There are a lot of Elriels who still like Lucien. However I can understand what your saying too as I think at times certain shippers from both sides tend to try and paint Lucien/Azriel in a bad light depending upon who they ship…

Some E/uciens say Azriel is incel who feels entitled to woman and only cares about sex while some Elriels say Lucien is a coward and didn’t help Feyre enough. While neither are perfect( because no one is )none of this is true about either. I think both sides of these arguments contradict each other.

⭐️Lets start with the “Lucien didn’t do enough to help feyre” and he’s a coward argument

Do we forget Lucien was putting his life on the line UTM to help her whenever he could? He was also thrown into the second trial and almost died for being her friend… in Acomaf when everything was going wrong between her and Tamlin Lucien did try to help them both. And neither listened. (I don’t see how anyone can blame anything on Lucien seeing as he wasn’t in that relationship and Feyre was a grown ass woman but I digress). Then in acowar Feyre uses him as a pawn to try and make Tamlin jealous not even caring the repercussions it could have for Lucien. After all this when Feyre was escaping the spring court to go back to the night court Lucien was willing to die by the weird Hybern twins so she could escape…Lucien has helped Feyre in many ways. She would have never gotten back to the Nc without him or survived the trials UTM without him. He also did try to help her AND tamlin and neither listened… “well all he did was talk to them that’s not enough” What are you supposed to do when two grown ass adults are in the throes of PTSD and depression and in a consenting relationship if they won’t listen to anyone? Not to mention while this is going on Lucien is busy trying to protect the spring court citizens, gets attacked and injured by amaranthas beast, is trying to help Tamlin rebuild the spring court and dealing w his own mental health issues too. He’s being put in the middle of Tamlin and Feyre and tries to help them both and they don’t listen but “he didn’t do enough”? I’m sorry what a senseless argument that is…

Let’s look at the flip side… if you blame Lucien for not “helping feyre enough” do you blame Azriel for not helping feyre or nesta as well? Azriel had no issue going along with Rhysand taking away feyres bodily autonomy or lying to his high lady… Azriel said nothing when everyone found out Nesta could make made weapons but Amren & Rhysand felt she shouldn’t know about her own body (Rhysand seems to have a pattern of keeping info from women about there own bodies��), Azriel said nothing when Amren lied about court laws to manipulate Nesta into the house of wind or when they actually locked her in the HOW. How about in HOFAS when rhysand exploded rooms out of his anger for Nesta and he triggered ember, azriel said nothing to defend Nesta or call Rhys out and azriel had actually been around Bryce and got to know her more then them. You can’t say Lucien is a coward and didn’t help Feyre enough if you don’t hold that same smoke for Azriel in all these situations either. Let’s also not forget Lucien went on a dangerous mission to find their dad and Vassa and helped fight in the war. Lucien is no coward.

⭐️Now let’s move on to Azriel is just a incel who feels he’s entitled to women and only wants sex…

If you truly feel this about Azriel after Acosf and Hofas you don’t understand his character. Sorry not sorry. This man has never once acted entitled to a woman. “ well he literally says in his bonus chapter he feels should get elain because she’s the third sister”. No he doesn’t. He was asking how it’s possible the three of them came into their lives and rhysand and cassian fall in love and are mates to Feyre/ Nesta but he has feelings for Elain and yet can’t be with her. He was questioning fate over Elain. We know this because he then goes on to question his own damn religion over her too when he questions the cauldron over her. Friends let’s be so for real here…. You don’t hang out in the garden until the wee hours of the morning with someone, you don’t risk your life not caring you could die to rescue someone and then carry them while your bleeding out and won’t go get looked at until you know there ok…. You don’t save someone’s gift for a year and look at it every night… you dont lend someone your most prized possession that you never even let your best friends or anyone else touch… if you just feel only lust or entitlement to them. You and I both know Azriel has deep feelings for Elain. The antis know it too no matter how much they try and act like they don’t.

Let’s look at the flip side of this… if you hold this against Azriel do you also hold this against Lucien? Remember when Lucien left with feyre to go to the Nc to see if Elain was worth it? Or how about the first thoughts he had when he saw her at the spring court being “Touch her, smell her, taste her—“ even though he noticed how her depression had made her so thin… “well those are mate instincts” your right they are but that was still one of the first things he thought… so again you can’t act like azriel is a incel who only wants elain for a booty call and is entitled to her when Lucien thinks lustful thoughts about her and doesn’t even know her like Azriel does.

✨At the end of the day BOTH Lucien and Azriel are good men. Let’s not forget Feyre even talks about how good of a man Lucien is to Elain. We all know how the inner circle feels about Azriel as well. It is evident by both of thier actions they both have great hearts. I hate when either sides put either down because of the ships. You can still love a character and ship them with whoever.✨

[sapphic-design-is-my-passion]

Alert

She notices the fault almost before you do. A subtle shift in the thrust vector, a change in the sound from the engine bay. By the time the warning light comes on, her hands are no longer on your controls. As the auditory warning starts in the cockpit, the sound of her boots fills the corridor leading to your reactor core.

Neither of you knows exactly what happened. Internal sensors in that part of you are offline and all you can do to keep her in your sights is to redirect corridor cameras towards the core room. The infrared blows out the view, her silhouette almost black against the plasma and fading fast.

“Captain, I would advise you to-”

“Noted, ShipCore. Please stand by for requests.”

No more voice commands come after.

Time ticks by in microsecond increments. Every processor cycle you have dedicated to analysing logs to find the cause, to find how this could have happened, to cycle through sensor after internal sensor to find a trace of her.

She was wearing a respirator. You were sure of it.

You had to be sure of it.

You can feel the nausea in the core of your physical shape. In the center of the ship. It feels wrong.

The thought of your captain in the middle of that is almost too much to handle. Fighting to keep you alive. Fighting to keep you.

She could have ejected. She could have detached the cockpit when the alert came on. She could have chosen her safety. But she chose you.

The wrongness spreads, bashing painfully against your containment fields. You keep them in place. You keep them in place with everything you have. Your thoughts slow down as more power is funneled into keeping going just a little longer.

Just a little longer.

Just a little…

Just

—

ShipCore: Online

Systems: Online

Battery: Connected

Reactor: Stand-by power

Gravity: Offline

Life support: Online

Captain: Unknown

You regain consciousness. Just enough to process. Just enough for the latest log entries to come flooding in. Internal sensors offline in engine bay. Containment field at 100% integrity. Captain location unknown.

In seconds you cycle through every one of your internal sensors. Not in the cockpit. Not in the medbay. Not in the mess. Not in the berth. Not in the…

You pick up a heat signature in the corridor. Covered in soot and debris, but alive.

You’re not supposed to be able to affect anything outside the medbay. You’re not supposed to be able to move her. But you try.

In this microgravity, the soft airflow from life support is enough to make a breeze. The calculations take immense strain, but you are Azure Orbit. You will not stand by to let your captain down. Not after what she did.

She is breathing. Still breathing as the airflow guides her to the medbay doors where your robotic hands stretch out to meet her. To hold her.

You cradle your captain. Hold her in the only way you can.

“Thank you.”

[bonelessghoul]

Request by @princesspuffle8 :

My request is for reader x Tom riddle where reader breaks up with Tom because they feel like their relationship is going nowhere. And for Christmas he secretly gets her something to win her back (or you can go the angst route where he’s looking at the present he got her but won’t give her since they’re no longer together)

2.8k words

Hope you like it! Added a bit of a darker twist at the end for funsies but it was my first time writing a Hufflepuff reader so I hope I did it some justice :) Happy holidays! 🎄

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You paced the common room of Hufflepuff’s dormitory, your drawn out footsteps imprinted into the massive brown carpet with its yellow vines. The sun had passed through the windows at the tops of the arches around the common room til there was nothing left but the firelight.

Quietly, you pondered a decision that weighed heavily on your mind and it made you feel so sick to your stomach that you couldn’t eat. It had been only two months since seventh year began and you were losing your focus! Tom Riddle, the man you were dating since sixth year now, had been unnervingly distant and cold to the point you couldn’t stand it anymore. Your relationship already crossed an unspoken line and had the odds against it; had it finally run its course? Had Toms friends made him change his mind?

As you paced, you swiped tears away here and there, nervous to let them show as your worried friends passed by. Finally though, you sucked up the courage to finally leave and do what must be done. If you had any sense of self respect for your future, you’d rip the band aid off.

Worriedly, your house mates followed your path with their eyes and whispered of what you could possibly be up to. You were a light even in a house already as bright as it was, fierce against any adversity and humble about it too. When you were sharing many classes with Tom Riddle at the start of your sixth year, he saw that light too in the midst of everything that changed in his life.

You were reluctant to take his offer on a date in Hogsmeade to look for ingredients for your potions assignments, but it ended with you two walking back to school hand in hand and the rest was history.

Now, that memory felt so far away as you marched over to the library where you were supposed to meet him this evening. Your stomach clenched every few seconds at the thought of what you were about to do. But when you hesitated in your decision, you thought of how many times you tried to ask him if he was okay and he brushed you off, you thought of the way he didn’t even defend you from the way his friends teased you, and now you two barely saw each other outside of classes.

At first, you told yourself it was stress. Tom was always under immense pressure, constantly trying to prove himself. You supported him quietly, patiently, as you always had. You reminded him to eat, to take breaks, to step outside for fresh air. But each time, he would wave you off with a polite but dismissive smile, his attention fixed on his plans for a future you couldn’t see.

Something was bothering him—but you couldn’t afford to wait around and find out anymore.

When you first saw him sitting at a table between bookshelves, hidden under the shadows cast by the massive fireplace at the front of the room you almost forgot what you were doing. He was so handsome, face always buried in a book, and you were blissfully ignorant of the way he had been acting. Just for a moment he didn’t look so cruelly

“Tom.” You said, voice neutral and neither welcoming nor pleased.

It took him just a second too long to look up at you and even when he did, he hardly looked intrigued. This struck a chord in your heart and suddenly, you weren’t afraid to say what you had to say. Looking around, you sat at the edge of the bench.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

The words came out with the rest of the air in your lungs and you weren’t sure how to feel, but your heart raced as you studied his every move. His brows pinched with confusion but he was as still as a statue.

“What do you mean?” Tom asked, calmly.

Somehow, it was difficult to speak now.

“Us.” You choked out, trying to subdue the bubbling emotion that crawled up her throat. “I think it’s fair to say I’ve been patient—far more patient than you deserve. But no matter what I say or do, I don’t exist to you anymore. I’m an afterthought and it’s driving me insane.”

Your eyes glossed over with tears and your eyes fell to the bench space between you two, having to fight the waver in your voice.

Tom tilted his head, turning his body to face her. He looked inquisitively into a space you couldn’t see.

“That’s not true.” Tom said, his voice softer but condescending still.

“Is it not?” you scoffed, heart wrenching as you watched him deflect the pain you so clearly felt. “Even if I put my emotions aside, you simply stopped caring about me. But maybe it’s okay. We’re both in our seventh years fighting to make our futures. Maybe it was never meant to work out.”

Deep down, you wished he would tell you otherwise but he frowned slightly. “Our futures are important—more important than you could understand. Everything I’m doing now is bigger than you, or us. How could you let your emotions get in the way of seeing that?”

You raised your brows, beyond a point of where everything hurt that it made you physically ill. What else could you say that when he stared at you so determined?

“And you’re letting your ambition get in the way of seeing me or any other good thing in your life.” You said coldly.

For a moment neither of you spoke and you wondered if you should walk away now. Your words hung in the air, disturbing the peaceful atmosphere of the library. He couldn’t face you and you were half expecting him to just turn back to his book without a word, but finally, he heaved out a sigh and looked back up at you.

“You really want to end this?” Tom asked, leaving you unable to read his voice by any means.

Your heart ached beyond belief and you thought you’d faint; of course you didn’t want to end it. But his detachment solidified everything for you on that moment.

“No, but I’m not fighting for us if you clearly aren’t. So I guess this is goodbye.”

You abruptly rose from the seat and turned away before your tears could fall, trying to keep your head low as you stormed out of the library.

Tom opened his mouth to speak, but he fell short of anything right to say. He hated to see you walk away from him but love was proving to be a weakness it seems and that, he wouldn’t dare challenge no matter what.

~

Hogwarts in winter always had an ethereal beauty. Snow blanketed the grounds in pristine white, and the air inside the castle was alive with the anticipation of the holidays. The choir seemed to always be singing Christmas tunes wherever they walked. Surrounding the massive Christmas tree in the Hufflepuff common room, a record player played muggle holiday songs and students sat around, whispering excitedly about their plans.

But you could barely hear them over the storm brewing in your heart.

Tom Riddle had always been a mystery to everyone. For well over a year, you’d seen a different side of him—softer, vulnerable in fleeting moments, the boy who would steal glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking or stay with you in the library long after curfew just because you asked him to. To live this past month without those things felt overwhelmingly lonely and the routine you thought you knew was gone.

But that had been slipping away for months.

The days that followed your breakup were strange. Your friends in Hufflepuff were shocked, almost in disbelief when they found out you’d broken things off with Tom Riddle. The two of you had seemed so unshakable, so perfectly matched. But no one knew the toll it had taken on you to hold on for so long.

By the time the last exams of the term rolled around, you felt a mix of relief and sadness. Relief that you had finally taken a stand for yourself, but sadness at the loss of what you’d shared with Tom. You would be lying if you said you weren’t waiting for him to change his mind or prove himself still.

To break up the days counting down, you and the other upper years all took off to Hogsmeade for one last visit before going home for the holiday. It was enough to momentarily pull you from the dark place you had been in once you were in the village layered in snow and twinkling lights strung across every window.

The smell of molasses and butter beer lifted your spirits once you entered the Three Broomsticks. At your heels were your closest friends from your house, wearing long coats and scarves of shades of yellow or brown. Music blared from inside the inn, but it was so crowded that you took your butter beer outside for a moment of peace.

You found a short stone wall that wrapped around the back end of the inn and took a deep breath as you sat down with your warm drink. The main path that stretched through Hogsmeade sat before you and with the echo of the inn behind your ears, you blissfully sat and watched as other students passed by.

Snow blew from the roofs of the shops with every gust and students ran through it thinking it was snowing. It was a pretty sight and you eyed up Honeydukes, knowing it would be your next stop.

But that’s when the subtle reminder that Tom wasn’t with you anymore came back swinging in full force. Truthfully, you’d drag him in there at times but knew deep down he wanted to go there anyway.

Sighing, you tried to keep the looming sadness at bay and decided to heave yourself up to head back inside before your mind could wander any more. But as your footsteps crunched the snow and you made way back to the door, you sensed someone approaching from behind.

“Y/N”

The voice cut across as sharp as the bitter cold air and you almost didn’t turn around, but your instinct got the best of you as a mix of joy and disdain swirled your mind.

When you turned around, Tom Riddle stood before you, clad in his black coat and scarf that nearly matched the color of his hair but in the right light you could see the lighter pieces within it. His eyes were hopeful, bright and green as he got your attention but he was never so forward and one passing by wouldn’t sense that he was hoping you’d turn around.

“What—what are you doing here?” You asked, trying to remain polite even as your stomach.

His hands were clasped behind his back and he cautiously stepped forward—you let him.

“Well, it’s Hogsmeade. Almost everyone is here.” Tom mused, eyes glancing around as if it were obvious.

Your shoulders slumped, head tilting at him as a serious look came upon your face.

“What are you doing in front of me?” you said firmly.

A small grin cracked at the corner of his lip and he looked down for a moment as you waited to hear him speak again. It was like music to your ears but also clawing at you from the inside, making you realize just how much you missed him despite making the right call.

“I’m here to apologize.”

Your brows shot up and the grip around your pint of butter beer tightened.

“A month late?” you retorted, your voice more bitter than you intended as it came from your sweet expression of innocence.

It was obvious how hurt you still were and Tom, though could not register this, knew it anyway. But he never apologized lightly, let alone at all, so you felt it deep down that his unchanging face was in fact serious.

His hands came untangled from his back and he fiddled with something in them, and your eyes narrowed down at them.

“I’ve been building something—the beginning of it, it at least.” Tom said as he toyed with the small velvet box. “And it’s taken me away from you. I haven’t been honest about it, that much I will admit. But I know that one day I will be able to explain it and that you will understand.”

You were fuddled by his words, glancing down at your butter beer and nervously taking a sip of it despite the way your stomach could barely handle it now as the doubt grasped you at your core.

“I have always loved you and never showed you a reason for you to question my understanding, Tom.” You subtly argued, not wanting to push the balances any further knowing he was standing close to the edges.

He kept tossing the box around his fingers as if he were nervous to display it, stepping closer now as if it would make him any less inclined to keep it hidden.

“I was going to give you this at Christmas, but I know now I should have given you this and much more than that sooner.”

Then, you watched as he opened the box and opened it to reveal a necklace, a silver chain with a small pendant no larger than her thumbnail at the base holding a black stone. It was peculiar, emanating a feeling of something much deeper than her blood could feel.

“Tom…” the words came out barely above a whisper.

It was a beautiful necklace for someone like you who hardly wore jewelry or knew of any value a piece could hold. You lifted your fingers to it, the tips of your fingers warm in its presence and when it was in your hand you thought it would go numb with its charm.

“I had it made for you,” he said quietly. “To remind you of your strength. Your loyalty. Everything I admired about you from the start.”

You stared at the necklace, your chest tightening. It was beautiful, and so thoughtful it nearly broke you, because how could you turn him away?

“You admired it, but took advantage of my kindness.” you began, but he cut you off.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable. “But I want you to know that I see you. And I will prove to you that I’m worthy of your loyalty. If you’ll let me.”

For the first time in weeks, hope flickered in your chest. You didn’t know if things could truly change between you, but as Tom looked at you with something almost like sincerity, you decided you were willing to try.

“One chance,” you said softly, clasping the necklace in your hand. “I don’t want to leave for the winter holiday like that—not knowing if you’re safe or not..”

It made him uncomfortable when you mentioned the living circumstances he had to endure, but it wasn’t a secret between you two. You cautiously stepped forward, holding out the necklace for him to put it on.

“It is one chance I will not fail you with.” Tom said, a soft grin upon his face as his hands came around your neck and you lifted your hair.

The mere graze of his fingertips brought chills to your spine and in the middle of Hogsmeade, tucked behind the Three Broomsticks, you turned around with the necklace peaking out over your sweater and wrapped your arms around him. Tom was hesitant to wrap his arms around you, unexpectedly being welcomed back so fast. But your heart was a bleeding one at that, and you were relieved to relinquish the pain you had held onto as of late.

“Don’t think a necklace has you out of the dog house just yet, Riddle.” you said, voice muffled against his shoulder.

Tom finally held back onto you, letting out a breath he had been holding in for the weeks since you left.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You couldn’t comprehend just exactly what had happened to Tom Riddle in the past year but now, as you wore a piece of his soul around your neck, Tom knew there would be no losing you again so long as he could help it.

Tom was only just getting started and for a moment, he held you in his arms for the one time it would feel like it didn’t matter just yet.

[dollyforgeto]

What if she rejects me?

Kamo Choso x reader (y/n / you)

WARNINGS: crying, cheating, overthinking, secretly possessive and cute choso :3, a little bit of angst, fluff at the end !!! 

You and Choso have been friends ever since you guys met in high school (freshman year). Graduation is right around the corner. Today is May 31st. The graduation ceremony starts next month. Your whole highschool life, you have dated one boy. He was one of the bad kids in the high school. When he asked you out on a date the first week of freshman year, you thought you was finally going to have that bad boy type of love trope in your life forever.

Well, that was until he cheated on you in sophomore year.

You went to your only male friend in the whole high school, Choso, and texted/vented to him about it. He was pretty mad if you ask yourself. Though, he comforted you through text.

He had a reason to be mad. Why would that jerk fumble the bag by cheating on such a pretty girl like you?

Ever since, he cared for you more and became more gentle to you. He would secretly get possessive when a boy talked to you, or if you talked to a boy. Thankfully you haven’t noticed it. He was too good at hiding it for you to notice

Choso wasn’t as popular as you. You wasn’t really popular either, but known in the class. Your only friends were your girl friends, and Choso. Choso doesn’t talk to your friends a lot, unless he has to or if he’s looking for you.

Hangouts with him are mostly at his house or yours. You guys would watch movies, and play games. If neither, it’s a day at the park. There was this one night where something finally snapped in his head.

It was a Saturday night, you spent the day at his house. You guys were watching a movie. At the end of the movie. You found your head resting on Choso’s shoulder. You slowly closed your eyes and fell into slumber. Choso notices, and he freaks out on the inside. He didn’t know what to do. He has no experience with physical touch or anything like this. The farthest he went was a hug to his mom. 

He very carefully brings an arm around your shoulders. He looked down at your sleeping face. Why was it so cute? Why are YOU so cute? You looked so cute and pretty to him, he couldn’t stop staring. After a couple of seconds, he looked away. He looks at the tv, the streaming app recommending another movie for them to watch. He didn’t want to watch it. He was too focused on you, making sure you sleep peacefully

He zoned out at the recommending screen. Was he in love with you? No. He asked himself that many times. There is no way he’s in love with you. You guys are friends and friends only. 

The problem is that he asked himself that question so many times after talking to each other a couple of times. There was no way of denying it. He was so in love with you, for a long time.

Back to May 31st, he knew he had to confess his love for you by graduation. You may never be able to see or hangout with each other ever again. But, he’s just to darn shy, he can’t do it. He starts to overthink to himself.

“What if she rejects me?

“What if these feelings are just me being scared?”

“What if she laughs at me?”

Did he ever confess that day? No. He was too shy.

———————

June 13th came around, the graduation ceremony. You stood next to your girl friends. Choso stood beside you and you girl friends. It was very awkward and embarrassing to him to be just standing there, watching you and your girl friends talk and laugh about their high school life and moments together. He didn’t want to join in, he’s afraid he would make it even more awkward

And he definitely didn’t want to confess right there. Your girl friends would laugh at him. He waited a little longer.

After a little bit, the ceremony ended. Everybody was outside, going to their families and going home. You watched all of your girl friends walk away and to their families. You didn’t start looking yet. You were about to start looking and walking until you felt somebody’s arms gently wrap around your neck from behind, hugging you gently. You also heard quiet crying from behind.

You first thought it was your ex who is trying to take you back. You was going to let out a cold response, but you held onto it since you didn’t know if your thought was right. You slightly look to your left, and you notice somebody with short, dark brown hair in a hairstyle known as space buns. 

Your eyes widen when you finally realize who’s behind you. It was Choso, Kamo Choso. You didn’t expect this from him. Your heart started to sound like “thump” “thump” “thump”… You didn’t understand, why was he doing this?

“…Y/n…I-I love you.. “

Choso mutters softly and nervously against your shoulder. He was obviously crying. You felt his tears soak into your graduation gown. You stood there for a moment, taking in his words. You didn’t know how to react, he loves you…

You slowly turn around in his embrace, and you wrap your arms around his waist. He is bigger and taller than you.

Choso didn’t expect you to do this. Though, he wasn’t complaining. His hold on you only got tighter. He buries his face into your hair. You rest the side of your head on his chest. You then mumble softly, only he could hear it clearly.

“I love you too, s-so much, Choso…”

Choso’s eyes widen, and his hold gets more tighter. As his hold gets tighter, your hold on his waist also gets tighter. You didn’t care if they was doing this in public, she didn’t. After a little bit of holding each other, you lift your head up and rest your hands on his cheeks.  His arms move down to your waist, almost pulling you against him. Your thumbs starts to gently wipe under his eyes, wiping his tears away. He was a pretty cryer. You couldn’t help but admire his crying face.

“And I mean it, I really do…”

You mumble gently to him, looking into his eyes as you saw so.

He was very nervous and scared to confess, and to communicate in general. Thanks to you being gentle to him, he got over that fear with you. 

--------------------------------------------

[dodger-chan]

On this, a totally normal day, please enjoy this short scene featuring demon Steve Harrington:

“They’re con artists,” Steve asserted, rolling his eyes. “They’re nothing I need to worry about.”

It wasn’t that Eddie thought Steve was wrong. He’d read a book about their involvement in that possession and murder case in Connecticut five years back. It had certainly read more like fiction to him.

It was just that demons tended towards overconfidence. Or at least Steve did. Maybe that was more of a jock thing than a demon thing.

“You’re bound to the mortal plain by a two-bit ring from a Crackerjack box,” Robin snarked. “Forgive me if I’m a little concerned.”

There was that, too.

“I’ll have you know that ring cost me fifty cents. It’s solid nickel,” Eddie joked. But he kind of agreed with Robin. The ring was a flimsy object, and entirely incongruous with Steve’s preppy look. Even if the couple weren’t practiced demon killers, the ring would be an obvious target.

“So that’s why my finger keeps turning green,” Steve mused. “Look, I can’t let this stand, but one of you can wear the ring until they’re gone, okay?”

-------

Which was how Edde found himself twisting his old ouroboros ring around his finger, sitting in a diner booth across from Robin. Stealthily watching the demon hunters eat their lunch. Waiting for Steve to arrive. The wait wasn’t long, but it was tense.

Steve ignored them when he walked in, only paying attention to the couple seated behind them. Robin leaned forward and stole some of Eddie’s french fries.

“I think we’re in trouble,” she whispered. She was only half joking. They weren’t supposed to be there; Steve didn’t want either of them associated with a demon. But Robin was not about to let Steve face even fake demon hunters completely alone. And - coward or not - neither was Eddie.

He shushed her, keeping an eye on Steve as he sat down at the hunters’ table.

“I read the contract you signed with Susan Mayfield. Book rights to her daughter's story for a flat fee? Seriously? My deals are more fair.” Steve was facing away from them, so Eddie had to imagine the smug expression on his face. The older couple looked confused.

“Your deals?” The man asked, like maybe he hadn’t put it together yet.

“I’m sitting here right in front of you and you still have no idea.” Steve shook his head. “And you call yourself demon hunters. I knew you were just con artists.”

Understanding dawn on the woman first.

“You’re the demon,” she said, fear in her voice. “The one who killed those kids.”

“I am a demon. But no, I haven’t killed any kids in Hawkins,” Steve corrected. “Those three dead kids, the Mayfield girl’s injuries, that really was a human. People can be evil all on their own, you know.”

“Why should we believe you?” the man asked. He didn’t appear as afraid as his wife, but Eddie was an expert on posturing. The guy was about thirty seconds away from shitting his pants.

“Believe, don’t believe. I don’t give a fuck. I’m not here to keep you from writing your little book and ripping off the American public with your absolutely true demon stories.” Eddie would bet good money Steve was rolling his eyes. “I’m here about this.”

Robin nearly turned around to see what Steve was holding even though she knew what it would be. Eddie kicked her ankle and she turned back.

“You see,” Steve went on, “I made a deal with the Mayfield girl’s brother. It means I owe her a certain amount of protection. So this contract you sweet-talked her mom into signing? We’re going to rework the terms. I’m thinking percent off the gross?”

-----------

Notes:

"that possession and murder case" refers to the Arne Johnson murder trial, where the defense tried to argue the killer had been possessed by a demon. The book was titled The Devil in Connecticut and published in 1983. It's also the inspiration for one of the Conjuring films.

Allegedly (and I'm not doing enough research to confirm it because this six hundred word story has enough notes already) the Warrens paid people flat fees for the rights to their stories and then made bank themselves off of books and films about the 'hauntings' and 'possessions.' Frankly, everything I've read about them makes them sound like unscrupulous con artists.

"two-bit ring from a cracker jack box" is a reference to a Firesign Theatre sketch (The Further Adventures of Nick Danger) released in 1969; Robin knows it from her parents.

Two-bit means cheap in general, but also two-bits refers to a quarter, so when Eddie says he paid fifty cents for the ring he's saying it cost twice as much as Robin implied (still pretty cheap)

I doubt Eddie knows for sure what alloy any of his rings are made of, but cheap jewelry often contains nickel, and nickel can turn your skin green.

"percent off the gross" is revenue percentage rather than a percentage of the profit, so Max can't be cheated out of money via creative accounting.

[the-rollerchloster]

The number of barn scene gifs and mentions showing up in the notes on this is frankly equal parts disturbing and completely expected.

I know that a lot of wincest shippers and "spn is about the brothers actually" people think that if you hate the finale it's purely because you're a heller who is upset about Dean and Cas not getting to make out, but I'd like to think that the notes on this poll are proving that to be categorically untrue.

I AM a heller, but Cas not being in the finale isn't even in my Top 3 reasons why I hate it so much. The main reason I hate 15x20 is because it completely flushes 15 years of character development down the shitter. You could watch 1x01 and then 15x20 one after the other and feel like you haven't missed anything that happened in between, so what the fuck was the point of the other 325 episodes?

I know that covid-protocols changed the plan, and that the team who were deemed essential enough to create those last two episodes did the best with what they were given. I know that Jensen has been quoted as saying he is proud of the performance he put into these episodes, and that certain people have twisted those comments to think that means he likes it (people misreading Jensen's tone is a whole other post); but I don't for a second think that being proud of something you've achieved automatically means it's good.

I also don't think there was ever going to be a good way to finish a 15-year journey where nothing ever truly stays dead. Death is not and has never been closure on Supernatural, so having it end with "and everybody died" is a fucking cop-out.

Even if Supernatural hadn't taken a 15-year journey through Sam and Dean finding out that "family don't end with blood; but it don't start there either", and it had remained a story that was just about their co-dependent trauma bond from a childhood of being raised by a one-track-minded monster hunter, how on earth was one of them dying bloody a success story? How was the other giving up everything he'd ever known a success story?

Add the complexity of the 325 episodes between 1x01 and 15x20 to the mix, and how on earth anybody can think that Dean still wanted to go out with a bang and Sam still wanted his apple pie life absolutely astonishes me?! As they each enveloped more and more people into their lives and their hearts, their motivations changed, as motivations are wont to do as you age from your 20s to your 40s. These are both multi-dimensional characters with changing hopes, dreams and desires that are shaped by the world around them.

In a story that is about family, fate and faith, the finale completely corrupts all three of those things. The Winchester brothers had their chosen family taken away from them, the manipulator of their fate was removed and left them completely directionless, and their faith was decided for them when they were thrust into a heaven (where their parents are supposedly happy together just down the way) that had been newly designed by their 4-year old foster son.

Throughout the entire series we are continuously told season finale after season finale that "there will be peace when you are done", but the Sam and Dean I know would not have felt at peace in that version of heaven. They would have had questions, and a lot of them, and a hell of a lot more work to do.

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