#or they read like 2 books and had no understanding of how the whole series works together

[axolotlclown]

Only press the option if you've read ALL of the books/main comics. I just don't have enough options to include those who have only read portions of the series. This season adapted many stories across multiple books and comics. So even if you've read Comet in Moominland but not Moominland Midwinter, say that you haven't read the books for this poll.

This does not include the picture books, btw. As awesome as a Who Will Comfort Toffle? adaptation would have been, it never came to be. ✊😔

Also if you're someone that's read all of the main comics but not the books, please make yourself known! I've only ever heard of people reading the books then the comics.

[pit-and-the-pen]

I'll Crawl Home to Her- Chapter 2

Sorry this update took a little longer, I had some personal stuff going on and my work schedule was pretty packed this week.

Also, this is a fix-it fic. It'll be following the events of the whole series so buckle in y'all. Also also, I shit on Tamlin a lot in these next chapters but it has a purpose I promise!

Chapter warnings: Warnings: Mention of abuse/ trauma, one comment about weight in terms of said said abuse , minor blood

WC: 9.6K

Read the previous parts here

[prologue] [chapter 1]

Next Part [here]

“Rhys is the most handsome High Lord.” I read line after line of similar words. I rolled my eyes at my brother's antics. 

“He’s sure laying it on thick.” I say as I sat down next to Feyre. She looks up from her writing and gives me a guarded laugh. 

“At least I’m entertaining.” She huffs out. 

“I can help you too, if you want. Give you a break from him.” She raises her eyebrow at me, studying me with a look that made me want to sink in on myself. 

“Why?” She asks sharply  

I willed my temper down. “Because despite what Tamlin might tell you, we’re not evil,” I spit out at her, she doesn’t flinch even slightly at the venom in my voice. “And you’re going to be here once a month for the foreseeable future. I’d like us to at least tolerate each other. Plus, it would piss off my brother.” Her eyes shone with mischief.

“You should have started with that.” And that was that. I pushed Rhys’ papers to the side and picked out a few books that had been my favorite. The plots are interesting enough to make up for the basic words used. Feyre caught on fairly easily. She could recognize almost all of the basic words but struggled to read them out loud. Not fully understanding how the sounds mashed together. We sat and read, and then when that got to be too much for her we just started talking. It was nothing deep, not really gossip either. Just casual words thrown back and forth until she asks out of the blue. “What’s the deal with Tamlin and Rhys?” I froze into stillness only fae possessed. Sensing my discomfort she backtracked. “You don’t have to tell me. I shouldn’t have asked.” Her voice held a little edge of fear. I forced my shoulders to relax. 

“No, you have every right to ask. It’s…complicated. You’re walking into centuries old distrust and unfortunately, are caught in the middle.” It wasn’t fair to her to be caught in all of this old shit. That was our baggage and I could see it was affecting her but she pressed on.

“But why do they hate each other so much?”

“I’m not the best person to ask.” She narrowed her eyes at my non-answer. I sighed. “We’ve both done some terrible things to each other's courts, the wounds run deep and that’s all I’ll tell you.”

“Why?” She would not let up. 

“Because you love Tamlin. And I don’t want you to think I’m trying to ruin whatever picture you have of him.” That really seemed to pique her curiosity. 

“You had a different experience with him?” It felt like she had punched me in the stomach. No. That’s the problem, I had the exact same experience with him and I ended up just as broken as I can see you’re becoming. 

“That’s not a story for today.” I tried to keep the shake out of my voice and maybe it was that, or the fear I know I couldn’t keep off of my face that made her drop the subject with a small, “okay”. 

It was lunch time before we decided to take a break.  “Do you want to eat here or go out with the others?” 

“Rhys will just pull me out if I don’t.” 

“My brother can fuck off. What do you want to do?” I saw a ghost of a smile twitch across her face. So we ate in the library. I left only long enough to stack up two plates full of food. Rhys took in the amount of food I was grabbing, 

“Hungry today?” I only stuck my tongue out at him and walked back out of the room. 

Rhys joined us a little after lunch. If he was surprised to still see me in here, he didn’t let it show. I didn’t leave until Feyre told me she was okay with me doing so. 

It was probably overkill to be so protective of her, Rhys was the last person who would ever try to hurt her or anything like that but she was still uneasy around him. She hid it well with the sheer disdain she showed him but I could tell from the rigidness of her shoulders and that slight edge in her voice. But there was also something else there that I couldn’t put my finger on. 

Feyre had stayed in the library long after their meeting. I found her hunched over another book, finger slowly tracing over the words. She hardly looked up as I placed another plate of food in front of her and went to walk out of the room. She didn’t call after me and I was okay with that. Scared she might start another round of questions. 

I didn’t see much of her after that. So I traveled back and forth between Velaris. Spending half my time at the manor and the other half actually doing my job as researcher. I really didn’t have to work but it gave me something to fill up my days. Before Amarantha I spent most of my time helping Cassian manage the Illyrians, from the background of course. Being the High Lords sister did not save me from their views on females. So I only showed up when necessary, Azriel and Cassian always following behind me. They learned fast enough to keep their tongues in check if they wanted to keep them in their mouths. 

Currently I was looking at old maps of Prythian. Combining through records for landscapes and t river patterns. Where the boundaries have shifted over time. And then came the daunting task of trying to pick out recountings of the old war. Figuring out who does best with what court. Prepping for the outcome we were all dreading, another war with Hybern. 

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to get from these books.” Cassian said, absently flipping through the large leather bound book I had just placed to the side. 

“Anything. Weakness, strengths, strategies, gods, anything.” I said leaning back. I knew I had to take a break, when I closed my eyes I could still see the words swirling in the blackness behind my eyelids. I took a deep breath and went to look at the giant map I had covered my desk with. Pins and markers to recount every movement during the last war. 

“Do you really think that it’s going to help?” I know he wasn’t trying to be rude. His voice was soft when he asked and my shoulders sunk in slightly. 

“I don’t know. But if it does…” He nodded in understanding. Azriel knocked lightly on the door, making both Cas and I jump. He had learned to knock now after he had to dodge out of the way of the book I had launched at him last week. I still haven't reaccustomed myself to how quiet his footsteps could be. A skill I had once prided myself on, I had even been able to pick up on those silent footsteps and find him before he wanted to be seen. 

“Just wanted to remind you two to eat.” He looked at the books strewn across the table, taking note of the one Cassian was still flipping through, playing with truly. “I know how you can get when you’re focused. Time for food.” He smiled at the shy look I gave him from being called out. Many times he had to drag me out of my office when I really got into something. His smile made me think he was remembering those times too. 

“If we go, will you two stop making eyes at each other?” Cassian spoke up, making me break away from Azriel’s stare. 

“We were not.” I responded, trying to tame the blush in my cheeks. Get it together. I told myself as I forced myself to turn to Cas. His eye roll was the only answer I got. Azriel had already started walking down the hall and I slapped Cassian on the arm.

“You’re so annoying sometimes Cas.”

“And you love me for it.” He gave me a loud, wet peck on the cheek and gave a full head-thrown-back laugh when I made a big show of wiping it off. 

I didn't return to the other house that night. Opting to stay with my friends. One of whom, Cassian, had gone into the wine cellar and returned with his arms almost full of the expensive bottles. I just laughed as he shot me a wink. I blew him a kiss back as I settled down on the couch besides Mor. 

We didn’t bother getting glasses, passing the bottles around while we talked about absolutely nothing, acting like we had during our teenage years. It was later in the night before Rhys appeared in the living room. He took one look at all of us and rolled his eyes before he swiped the bottle out of my hand and brought it to his lips. 

Mor and I were fully supporting each other's weight on the couch, I couldn’t tell who was leaning against who more but our giggles started to get louder and more frequent. She whispered to me so quietly I had to strain to hear her. “Stop staring at him.” And we fell into another fit of giggles.

She was right though, everytime Azriel talked I could feel how my eyes stayed locked on him. Reminding myself to breathe when he pulled the bottle to his lips. I pushed off of Mor and went to stand up, wobbling slightly as my feet touched the ground. Azriel made a move like he was going to catch me if I took a face first dive on the carpet but when I steadied myself, he moved back. It happened so fast I wonder if I imagined it.

“I think it’s bedtime.” I said, mouth feeling mushy as the words came out. Mor laughed again and I turned to face her and gave her a rude gesture. I offered that same hand to pull her up to her feet and she pouted before taking it. Everyone seemed to get the hint that it was late so all of us in our various drunken states started the climb up the stairs to our rooms. Good nights thrown through the hallways, Cassian all but screaming it to make sure Mor and I heard him. The sound made us flinch before laughing again as I closed the door to my room. 

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Before I knew it Feyre’s week was officially up. She had demanded to be brought back home and I fought down the biting comments I wanted to make as Rhys agreed. I stepped besides the pair and she looked over to me for a brief second before pretending that neither of us existed. 

“You don’t have to come with me. Rhys spoke into my mind and replied with a shake of my head. I could do this for Feyre. Despite every part of my body screaming at me for bringing her back to the Spring court, if she could be brave then so could I. He sighed at my stubbornness but knew that there was no changing my mind. 

We weren’t going far. Simply dropping her at the border of spring and summer and making sure she got into the manor. I could manage that. Yet as we were getting ready to winnow in, I felt my hands go clammy. I remember me saying I’ll never go back there willingly.

The smell was the first thing that hit me. The overwhelming floral scent. I could smell the roses from the outside of the manor this far away, their sheer number coating the air with a smell that threatened to suffocate me on the spot. 

“Goodbye, Feyre.” She had already started walking before he finished speaking, not sparing so much as a glance back to us. So we stood and watched her retreating figure until those wooden doors closed behind her. That was that. 

We didn’t return to Hewn city, instead winnowing outside the townhome. 

Rhys didn’t stay to greet our friends. Instead, he all but ran up the stairs to either go to his study or his room. Everyone gave me a tentative look before I shrugged and sprawled out on the couch besides Azriel. 

He didn’t try to pull away from me. Instead, he lifted his hands from their spot on his lap. His way of telling me I could place my legs up so I didn’t have to sit awkwardly to avoid his wings. I did and I ignored how happy that little gesture made me. Over the last few weeks he seemed to be able to handle being around me again.

Cassian started rapid firing questions at me. What is she like? She threw what at Rhys? Anything for scraps of what their brother's mate was actually like. Sure they had gotten the story of her trials but this was different, getting to know who she actually was. Cassian seemed pleased to know she was still just as head strong. “Maybe someone will finally humble him a little.” He chuckled 

 Rhys spoke up as he entered the room. “Who’s humbling who?” He picked at an invisible piece of lint on his shoulder. The only sign of how upset sending Feyre back had made him. 

Cassian didn’t answer but instead asked “Did she really throw a shoe at you?” He laughed when Rhys shot me a dirty look. Answering the question for him. “I want to meet her.” Cassian said and I swore he was almost pouting. 

Rhys sighed, “And have you scare her off.” Cassian looked hurt so Rhys added, “Let her get more adjusted to me before we add all of this into the mix. Besides, she cannot see Velaris. Not when…” not when she came back to Tamlin. Not when she could still spill every little secret of ours to one of our biggest enemies. 

Cas looked like he wanted to argue but only said “Princess gets to see her.” 

“Because I have a winning personality.” I smiled at him and he launched one of the small pillows from his chair at me. I managed to deflect it but as it bounced off my arm it hit Azriel square in the face. I bit down my laughter at his faux outraged face. He threw it back and before I knew it, they were yelling at each other, well Cas was yelling and Azriel was trying his hardest not to laugh.Sensing a fight was emanate, I pushed off of Azriel and spoke loudly over the two Illyrian males. 

“Outside if you’re going to fight.” Even Armen, who had stalked into the room around as Rhys laughed at that. 

Cassian turned to me, his temper still flaring. “We’re not dogs.” 

“Last time you both fought in the house, I was cleaning up glass for a week.” I raised an eyebrow at him, challenging him to say otherwise. 

Azriel spared Cassian from having to respond. “C’mon.” He said, pulling Cassian to what I could only assume was the training ring. 

“I forgot how much you look like Rhys when you get bossy.” Cassian said as he was pulled from the room. And my responding gesture made the rest of the room go up in laughs. Rhys followed them out. Probably needing to get rid of his own tension and Armen had snuck back into the research room. 

I didn’t have it in me to just stare at maps all day long, regardless of knowing how much I needed to. So I just stayed in the living room, a random book from the shelf pulled onto my lap. 

Rhys came back first, hair only slightly disheveled, wings out proudly. “Once I get out of the bath, it’s time for your training.” I huffed and he could sense I was about to argue with him. “Cassian and Azriel told me you can’t use your powers.” Traitors. “So we’re going to figure out what the hel is wrong.” 

Less than an hour later I was sitting in Rhys’ study. A small candle flickering in front of me, taunting me to snuff it out. I pulled and pulled for any of the small dark tendrils to do so but found nothing. Sweat was beginning to form on my brow with how hard I was concentrating. 

Rhys huffed in frustration at my lack of progress. “It was easier teaching Feyre to read.” 

“Then by all means, go back to that. I’d love to see her throw another shoe at you.” I bit back at him and he just rolled his eyes. 

“Try again.” He went right back to business, ignoring my statement. I really did try. I Have been trying. That rich darkness that normally lingered under my skin seemed like it was hidden behind a wall. Just out of my grasp, so close I could almost taste it, almost touch it. I yelped as I reached out towards it. Pain flickering through my body as if it had burned me. Rhys’ hand on my shoulder snapped me out of whatever had happened. Sweat broke across my skin and I flinched as I felt my magic fight against the wall inside my head. 

“What’s happening?” I spoke to my brother. He just stared at me before I felt a phantom knock at my mental shields. I forced them open and almost screamed at the pain that flooded through me. I knew the moment he found it. Felt that sickening thread of magic that never released when the spell broke for the other high lords. Rhys’ presence in my head retreated and we could only look at each other. No words to be found between us. 

“Fuck.” The first word he uttered and I somehow found it in myself to laugh. 

“That bad?” 

“Good news is there’s not a physical block. No magic stopping you.” So why did he still look like death froze over? “Bad news, you’re the block.” 

“Go on?” 

“I don’t fully know but it looks like your magic is being tied up by your own magic.” 

“So, you’re saying. I’m the problem?”

“I’ve been saying that your whole life but yes, especially in this case.” He teased, trying to lighten the new tension in the air. I bite 

“Well then that simply means you’re going to be stuck with me a lot more. That or I go to Helion.” He rolled his eyes at the mention of the other high lord, one who has been trying for the last few centuries to get me into his bed. 

“Maybe.” shit. It must be serious if he’s actually willing to let Helion help. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come down to that.” He says solemnly and points back to the candle. I stare at him for a moment before sighing and trying to cover the light again. 

We sit as I try again and again and again. Nothing besides a small puff of black smoke to let us know that I’m even trying. Right as I’m about to say something I see Rhys flinch and his eyes flare with anger. Only not at me, his eyes look far away as that anger homes in on whatever must have made his shoulders tense. 

I see his eyes come back into focus and I don’t even have to ask before he’s spilling. “He hurt her.” I don’t need him to say who. “I can tell it’s nothing serious but I got nothing but pure fear from her.” Rhys had already explained that the bargain amplified the usual effects of the mating bond. That he could sometimes get whiffs of any strong emotion from Feyre. Fear, anger, mostly fear but as her nightmares have started to fade I haven't heard much about it. My stomach curls and I try to will my hands to not shake as my mind drifts to the endless possibilities of what could have happened. 

“It’ll be okay. She’s strong.” The words felt wrong in my mouth and Rhys said the very thing I had been thinking.

“You were strong.” 

“Well you can’t very well march in there and get her.” I saw the look on his face. “You can’t, we can’t. And she still doesn’t want us. Unless it feels like that first time…” He shook his head. So not as bad. Still bad, still awful enough for her to send fear down the bond but not bad enough that Rhys could only hear her screaming for someone to get her out of there. So we both let it go, ignored the thoughts that told every part of us to go help this girl from whatever Tamlin was inflicting. But even I knew that Tamlin’s anger comes from his love. That anger so wrapped in fear that something will happen that he almost wills those incidents into existence. 

We spend hours trying to break whatever block is in my head until I’m grumpy and all but biting his head off at every little comment he makes. He bites right back at me and I know there's no point in this anymore, both of us too on edge to do anything productive. Throwing his hands up in surrender he doesn’t stop me as I storm out of his study. I run head first into Azriel on my way to my room, his hands resting on my arms so I don’t topple over. 

“Training went that well.” He says with a small chuckle. The noise sends a low growl from my throat and he takes his hands off of me. “We’ll figure this out.” He says and I continue my path to my room, not staying long enough to see the concern in his eyes. 

I was still grumpy by the time that dinner rolled around but I managed to pull myself out of bed. My head is pounding from the strain and whatever Rhys did inside my mind. I throw on the first thing I find, still in my thin nightgown I pulled on after my bath, and head down to dinner. I don’t say much and not even Cassian tries to cheer me up, all he does is remind me that I’m joining them for training in the morning. I don’t respond with anything other than stabbing the chicken on my plate with extra force. 

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I struck the center of the dummy and looked over for Cassian for any semblance of approval. He gave me a bored look and I stomped over to the stupid thing and pulled all three of the daggers out of it. Cas wanted me to get back up to snuff with long range before he put a sword in my hand again. I had never needed the sword that I kept strapped to my back on the missions I would accompany Azriel on, always having my powers to stop anyone from getting that close in the first place. Between Azriel shadows and my blanket of darkness, very rarely did we ever need anything more than truth teller. 

I grunted in frustration as the sharp metal flew through my fingers time after time, all of them hitting the center of the target. 

“Fuck this Cas, I did the warm ups, I did the exercises. Let me fight.” I needed to do something more than this. If I couldn’t use my powers, if they never came back, I needed to be useful. In no world would I just sit around and let my friends risk death while I sat around playing with my maps. Cassian must have heard the desperation in my voice because he agreed. 

We circled each other and I got a rare glimpse of Cassian with no restraint. This was the war general that scared people just by being on the battlefield. I tried not to let the frision of fear show as he surveyed every inch of me, seemingly reading my body language like I was screaming my next moves at him. I didn’t stand a chance. His fist made contact with my nose before I could turn out of the way and I fell to the ground. My hand went up and when I pulled it back, my fingers were sticky with my blood. Cassian was instantly in front of me, mumbling out apologies. I held up my hand to stop him from talking. 

“Cassian.” A stern voice called out as I ran my hand along my nose again, feeling for any breaks. “What did you do to her?” Azriel’s voice was full of concern as he knelt besides Cassian. 

“Alright bat brains. I’m not dying,” I started to stand up and they both reached out their hands to help me up, I swatted them away and brushed off the dust on my pants. “It’s not the first time I’ve been too slow before, and it’s not going to be the last.” They both stared at me and I rolled my eyes. “C’mon. I still have to beat you Cas.” He shook his head laughing and Azriel shot him a glare. 

Cassian, never one to back down from a challenge, and never one to miss an opportunity to piss off Azriel, agreed to go back into the ring with me. He coached me through it this time, slowing down his punches to explain how to predict them and block them. All things that I knew but just needed more practice. By the end of the hour I was covered in sweat but I was able to block him without his guidance. Azriel didn’t leave either, hanging back to watch, adding his own little tips and tricks to help me get some advantage over Cassian but I still couldn’t get him to budge an inch. 

“Do you want to get in with her then?” Cassian shouted to Azriel as he continued to assist me from the side lines. I made a motion for Cassian to stop as I tried to catch my breath. Placing my hands on my knees and sucking in screaming breaths. 

“I think I’m done.” I panted out.

“If you wanted me to make you breathless princess, all you had to do was ask.” He winked and tossed a canteen full of water over to me. I drank half of it in one long gulp and forced myself to stand up straight. My muscles were already crying out in protest. Tomorrow was going to suck for sure. 

The three of us walked back up to the house, laughing and joking and I felt proud of the progress I was making. Even if the dried blood still on my hands might have suggested otherwise. 

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A month went by so fast, I had to tick off the days to make sure I was right.I woke up to Rhys preparing to collect Feyre from the spring court again. Rhys didn’t ask me to go with him this time, after that last flood of emotions he knew he would have a hard time containing himself let alone both of us. 

I was already waiting at the house for when they got back, ready to play mediator if need be. They had barely materialized before my brother was fussing over Feyre. The two bickered back and forth but from the way she looked over herself, I knew even she could hear the worry in his voice. She had lost more weight since the last time she had been here. The shadows under her eyes creeped back onto her pale skin. “Eat breakfast with me.” He said and I shifted from my place in the living room. Mor was somewhere in the house after her visit to the Court of Nightmares yesterday. Probably still decompressing with the bottle of wine she took with her to bed. 

I gave Feyre a small smile and she didn’t return it, but she didn’t glare at me either. It’s a step at least. The female in front of me gave a heavy sigh after weighing Rhys offer. The growl I heard come from her stomach seemed to make the decision for her. I didn’t follow them, if she had wanted me to I would have been able to tell. So I stayed close enough that I could swoop in and save her from my brother's overprotectiveness if need be. The glimpses of their conversation I caught weren’t the best but I stilled completely as I caught, 

“I was tortured, beaten and fucked until only I could tell myself who I was, what I was protecting. Please- help me keep that from happening again. To Prythian.” My heart ached at the words. He had had it so much worse than I did, regardless of what people might believe. I could see it on his face during some of his bad days, the scars of what Amarantha did to him. I didn’t listen to her response as I walked to my room. 

I found Feyre the next day as I had the last time, hunched over the table with more lines from Rhys to read. She was copying them in better handwriting than she had before. When I approached she didn’t so much as look up at me. I called her name gently and still nothing. So I took that as my sign to let her be. Rhys had gotten called to the war camps later that day. 

“Just look after her please. I know she’s fine but let me know if either of you need anything.” He blabbered as I all but pushed him out the door. 

“We’ll be fine, you overprotective mother hen.” His face fell slightly and I couldn’t stand that look on his face. “I’ll let you know if she needs anything, okay? Now go be a High Lord.” I saw a hint of a smile as he winnowed out of the house. 

I tried to stay out of her way. Whatever bit of goodwill she had allowed me last time seemingly disappeared. So I kept bringing her books when she ran out of the ones Rhys had given her, brought her food and left her to her own devices. Today, she didn’t give me a glare as I sat down in the armchair on her left. I opened my own book without giving her a second glance. The small hmph she made was the only indication she had even noticed my presence. She didn’t want to talk and quite frankly, neither did I, perfectly content with getting lost in our own books. 

It was around midday and the sun was just starting to peek through the heavy curtains of the library when I felt Rhys appear in the room. In his hands were trays of food which he presented to Feyre. A small thank you left her lips and I wanted to smack that smug look on Rhys face as he teased her. But then I saw his face get serious and I suddenly felt very much like I was intruding on a private moment. “Tell me how I can help you.” His voice was scratchy and I knew he was trying to hold back tears, to keep the conversation casual enough that she wouldn’t shut him out again. I truly did try to tune them out but these were the same things I had been wanting to say to her all week but couldn’t find the strength. 

“If you fall apart then the bitch wins. All of that is for nothing and she wins.” Rhys said plainly and Feyre flinched before going back to her book. I could tell that she was talking to him in her mind. My eyes grew wide when I saw that slight layer of frost cover the book cover. Rhys barely had time to dodge said book as it was thrown right at his head. It bounced harmlessly to the floor and I stifled a laugh. The laugh died in my throat when I saw the flicker of flames in her palms and I tried to reach my mind out to Rhys, he all but threw me out. 

Feyre and Rhys left later that day. I didn’t offer to come with, didn’t want to come with. Just like last time when Rhys returned to Velaris, he stalked to his office and hid out for the rest of the evening. I only got close enough to the door to leave a plate of food outside before retreating back to my side of the house. His emotions pouring through the door were enough to give me a headache, the way it felt like I was walking into a brick wall. I didn’t try to talk to him for the rest of the day. Instead choosing to pull my attention back to the map in my study. 

I had been neglecting it to focus on Feyre and Rhys but I knew it’s just because I wasn’t getting anywhere. No matter how many books I read, I couldn’t think of anything that would help us win this war. Not without all seven courts working together and I knew Hel would freeze over before that ever happened. 

So I read until my eyes became blurry and heavy. My head had gotten so heavy like the words were getting stuck and wouldn’t leave. When I felt my eyes starting to close and knocking on the door jostled me awake. I saw the shadows before I saw him, too tired to notice that they had time to take in my current state and report back to Az. 

“You should take a break.” He said as he went to pull up a chair at the table I was sitting at. 

“I can’t take a break when I haven’t found anything yet.” I whined at him. “I’m supposed to be good at this, I am good at this. Or at least I was.” I slumped in my chair and I saw that familiar look of concern flash through his warm amber eyes. He sat there, I could almost see the gears in his brain turning, his shadows starting to swirl around the floor like soothing waves. I stared at them and felt my mind calm slightly. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, wings flapping behind him. 

We just sat there in silence for a few moments and then he stood up suddenly. My eyes tracked the movement, following his arm as he extended a hand to me. It was like my brain short circuited at the gesture. He had to clear his throat before I snapped out of it and I timidly placed my hand in his. He led me out of my office and I felt his shadows on my heels. “Where are we going?” I laughed at how ridiculous this must look, one of the fiercest Illyrian warriors towing someone behind him like an excited kid. 

“Just be quiet. You’ll know when we get there.” His own voice full of an almost giddy excitement. So I let him pull me along. All the way outside until it clicked. There was a little patch of grass beside the Sidra that I loved to sit by when the weather was just starting to turn warm. Our little group used to spend free days out on that field, just soaking in the warmth. He gave me a proud smirk when we finally reached that stretch of grass. “Now, you’re going to sit and just enjoy being out here.”

“Is that an order?” I teased and he didn’t miss a beat. 

“If that means you’ll actually do it, then yes.” I sat and looked out over the river. The lights and sounds of the city walk could just trickle in, becoming a lovely hum in the back of my mind. I patted the spot next to me and Azriel sat beside me. I curled my knees up to my chest and rested my chin on top of them. Just looking at the city I loved so much. We didn’t talk, Azriel was always good for that. He knew when I needed the quiet. The sound of the small waves helped clear my head and after a while I felt my shoulders sink down, the tension lightening. It was still there of course but became more manageable as I could smell the water and Azriel’s pine and fresh air scent. It wrapped its way around me and held me like my favorite blanket. 

“Thank you.” I said, breaking the comfortable silence. We didn’t look at each other, still staring out at the city just ahead. 

“Of course. Anything for you,” He cleared his throat, “For one of my friends.” I bit down the string at that little word. I fought the urge to put some distance between us at the feeling that flooded me. The cruel reminder of just exactly how he saw me. So I just pulled my legs in tighter and ignored all the thoughts of him that began to take over. 

We didn’t head back to the house until sundown. The pair of us walked under the flickering faelights that lined the streets. It still blows my mind how much the city changed while I was gone. I told him that much. And he shrugged off the tiny complement. 

“Rhys and I will never be able to thank you enough for how much you all did while we were…gone.” My voice felt tight as I finished, “You kept our home safe when we couldn’t.” He turned to look at me and went to say something but stopped himself. His face looked slightly pained, in that concerned way he always managed. He shook his head slightly. 

“You did more than we ever could. You and Rhys gave us a chance to have something to protect in the first place.” In his words, I was pulled back to that night when it had all gone to shit. How Cassian and Azriel were out dealing with the camps and how I couldn’t convince Rhys not to go so I insisted that I come along. I had to beg him to let me come with him and he still wasn’t happy about it. We walked right into a trap and before most of his power had been ripped away from him he wiped the memory of Velaris from everyone who was under the mountain and let our friends know what was happening, how they couldn’t come after us without leaving Velaris unguarded. 

Azriel’s small nudge to my shoulder pulled me back to the present and his eyes asked the question before he needed to. 

“I’m okay.” But I felt how my arms had wrapped around myself but he didn’t say anything about it, letting me have my space. We reached the house again and I could hear Cassian and Mor’s voices floating down the hallway. The sound alone plastered a smile on my face. Azriel followed behind me as I rounded the corner and Cassian all but cheered when he saw me. “There you are princess, we went to pull you out of your study but it seems someone beat us to it.” He gave me a small wink and I laughed at the joke behind it. I shook my head as I sat down next to Mor who was already pouring me a glass of wine. 

Rhys spoke to me across the table, “I peaked in and saw the map, tomorrow if you’re up for it I want all of us to go over it.” I nodded and he smiled at me. And we all ate and joked and I left the love I felt for the people in the room washed over me like the waves in the Sidra. 

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

“So if it comes down to war. Who do we have?” Rhys turned to Cassian and myself. We were all sitting around the map I had been working on, face grim as I explained the various markings. 

“The Illyrians don’t have a choice. The court of nightmares should. We kept up pretty well with Dawn and Day. Winter…” His voice trailed off. I still remember Kallias’ face as the news broke of the attack on Winter. The thousands of babes dead by Amarantha’s hand. The pure loathing his face held as he looked at Rhys. 

“I can talk to them.” I had always liked Kallias. And from the little bit I’ve heard since our return home, he finally married Viviane after being friends since childhood. Viviane was sweet and her, Mor and I had been known to get ourselves in trouble when together. If she would listen, Winter would come around. 

“Autumn and Spring are lost causes.” Cassian sighed beside me, slumping down in his chair. 

“Tamlin is delusional enough to think it would keep him safe.” And keep Feyre safe. But I didn’t say that outloud. “Beron is…well Beron. Unless we think we can pursue one of the brothers to take him out of the equation, I think it’s better to not plan for them.” 

“Summer?” Rhys asked pointedly ignoring Cas’ words on the other seasonal courts. 

“Tarquin is new and young. He’ll side with the majority. But I think I could talk to him and at least see where his loyalties lie.” I had only talked to the new high lord a few times during our time under the mountain. He seemed nice enough, one of the few people who was even willing to talk to me at all. No fear of the role I had been forced into and hoped he would side with us. Hoped his newness wouldn’t scare him into the easy choice.” 

“I don’t like the idea of having two courts fighting against us.” Azriel finally spoke up. I had almost forgotten he was in the room but his shadow currently sitting at my feet should have been reminder enough. “Hybern has the armies he needs and if he has the cauldron….” 

“So what do you suggest?” My brother asked, head in his hands. 

“We talk to them. Let them know that we won’t win this if we’re not unified. Remind them that we fought a war once to avoid this very thing and some courts were on the wrong side of history then and would be now.” I spoke plainly, it was the only answer. If it had been anyone else the idea would have been shot down. But Rhys just let out a heavy breath and nodded. 

“We’ll wait until we’re sure. Some courts will refuse to believe there will be a war until it’s staring them in the face.” The tone in Rhys’ voice letting us know this meeting was over. We all stayed in the room, the same exhausted look sat on our faces. “Good work.” Rhys said to me as he studied the map again. “You got all of this from books?” I had been too young to remember most of the war, let alone fight in it. But at least someone had thought it smart to recount all of it in very exact detail, I just managed to translate to current day Prythian. Rhys was silently nodding to himself as he really studied the map. The others slowly filter out of the room, leaving Rhys and I alone studying the map. 

“And these?” He pointed to the orange marks I had drawn all over. 

“Trade agreement routes, the thicker the line, the more movement there is through that path. They would be the most vulnerable areas since people know them so well. They’re also normally the quickest way between courts.” I pointed out more of the lines and pins. I had so much marked off, down to what ways the rivers flowed and where their currents changed. Rhys just drank in all the information I threw at him, only nodding along to the explanations. I was about to start on another part of the map before I saw his face freeze. 

Rhys had completely stilled besides me. That all-too-familiar far-away look on his. When I raised my eyebrow at him, “What is it? Is it…” He didn’t wait for me to finish, instead he let me into his mind and I almost flinched at whatever feeling Feyre was sending him. The crushing agony and pure terror. It was a feeling I knew all too well. These weren't the few stray glimpses Feyre had sent him while they were separated. This was the very thing all of us were holding our breath for, hoping it never happened. 

“Rhys we can’t just ignore it this time.” I spoke, already leaving the table. His hand wrapped around my wrist, making me pause. 

“If you storm in there, Tamlin has every right to declare a war.” 

“And we’ll have every right to kill his sorry ass. Something that we could have done decades ago.” I spit back at my brother. 

“Please.” His voice shook with fear. Scared for Feyre and maybe for me. I put my hands up in surrender. I couldn’t argue against the tone in his voice. 

“So how do you want to do this then?” I asked him and we started planning. 

In less than 10 minutes Mor had winnowed right on the border of spring and summer. Rhys had insisted that she come along to help. Her status would help blanket us from any repercussions. Plus her powers would come in handy if any of the guards found us. So her and I snuck into that manor I had sworn I would never see again. Do it for Feyre. Be brave for her. I said to myself as my own terror rose to a fever pitch. 

I could see the darkness already pouring out of the house. My anger quickly turned into fear. What did he do to her? The voice in my head screamed. Rhys had already broken the wards and whatever was locking her inside the house. Mor knocked out the guards before they could spot us. When we finally entered the house my blood ran cold. Sitting in a ball of inky darkness was Feyre. Her screams pierced something deep inside of me. I looked around and locked eyes with Alis. Her eyes wide as she took in my face. 

“He locked her in the house. I tried to…Please just keep her safe.” Was all the older fae had said to me. 

My heart warmed at the concern in her voice. The same concern she had once shown me. I nodded and walked towards Feyre. Whatever darkness she was wielding seemed to only be for her and as I shook her shoulder, gently saying her name they retreated slightly. I looked over to Mor who only gave me a small nod. Taking her cue, I picked up the shaking female and was startled by how light she felt. Mor spoke up from beside me. “Your guards are going to have a hell of a headache when they wake up.” 

Alis nodded in understanding and I added. “Don’t tell him where we took her. Please.” And for a second I felt just as broken as the female in my arms. I knew she would tell him, and would have to tell him but a small part of me wished she wouldn’t. But that was unfair to expect of her. It reminded me too much of the same hope I had when I left. Face sunken in and heart broken as I begged her to not tell Tamlin I was leaving. No one was there to help me and I’ll be damned if Feyre ever felt that pain. I didn’t say another word as Mor winnowed us right in front of the border. It felt like I could finally breathe again as the scent shifted to ripe fruit and salt water that marked us as safe. Marked us in summer. Feyre shifted in my arms and mumbled something softly. 

Mor soothed a hand through her hair. “You’re free.” 

Rhys quickly scoped Feyre from my arms without so much as a word. He looked at Mor and I 

“We did everything by the book.” Rhys nodded before I felt the air whoosh around my ears and I knew we had made it home. Rhys deftly climbed the stairs to take Feyre to her room and I just stood staring at my brother back. I blocked out the memories that began to rise to the surface. The scar on my arm prickled and when my other hand raised to scratch at the angry white lines that trailed down my forearm, Mors hand wrapped against mine. Grounding me in the present. 

“She’s free.” She repeated to me. 

“Thank the mother.” I responded as I started to climb the stairs suddenly bone tired. 

Feyre didn’t emerge from her room that night or the next morning. More than once I found myself standing outside her door, hand held up to knock but some part of my brain told me not to. Rhys hasn't left her side the whole time she was asleep. Whatever magic she had used in the house had exhausted her and I felt my heart pang for her. How alone she must have felt, how scared she must have been to be locked in that house. I remember my simple panic the first time I went to the basement of the townhouse. How it transported me back to under the mountain, I couldn’t imagine how it felt to be locked away again.  

When I finally did see her, she seemed to have gotten a little color back. Enough so that she was able to argue with Rhys again. I didn’t linger this time to hear the fight, letting them duke it out in private. But as Rhys turned the corner, I knew something that happened. Something important. 

”We’re going home.” 

If someone had told me two months ago that Feyre would be standing in the living room of our home in Velaris I would have probably keeled over laughing. But here we were, Feyre’s eyes flickering from spot to spot in the house. I couldn’t get a read on her face but before I could even process that, I heard a pounding on the door. Cassian’s voice filtering through the wood, already complaining. Rhys shot me a look that said deal with them please. He tried to hide it but I could tell he was waiting for Feyre’s reaction to her surroundings. A hint of anything to gauge how she was feeling. He needed her to like this place like he needed to breathe. So I excused myself from the room and slipped out the front door. 

”Are you serious Cas?”

”I want to meet her. She’s right there, my brothers m-” I cut him off, blocking both him and Azriel from trying to peek into the house. They could easily push right past me but stayed a healthy distance. 

”Do not finish that sentence. Do you want all of Velaris to know?” I whispered screamed at him and he rolled his eyes.

”I promise you drama queen, no one’s up this early. I don’t want to be up this early.” 

After a few minutes of us bickering back and forth, Rhys opened the door and said to us, “Are you all just going to stand there?” 

Cassian all but trampled me trying to get in the house. I laughed when I saw his crestfallen face as he noticed Feyre was no longer in the room. “She was here right?” He spoke to the room. 

”Maybe she’s scared of your good looks Cas, can’t have her falling in love with the wrong Illyrian bastard now can we?” I shot Rhys a wink and he growled lightly. 

”She’ll meet you when she’s ready.” Was all he said before he rangled all of us into the dining room. 

Feyre slept for the rest of the morning. She came down the stairs dressed in Night Court clothes and I felt my breath catch in my throat. The way they seemed to compliment her well enough and I had to bite my tongue to prevent me from pointing that out. Rhys met her at the door and shot me a vulgar gesture at my sugary sweet, “Be safe kids.” That I called out from my spot on the couch. I sat on the couch until the sun started to set. I had just got to the good part and debated even going to the dinner at all but I was dying to see how Feyre would handle our crazy family. If she had any chance at surviving here, she needed to like them or they would drive her crazy. Although from Cassian’s earlier words that might be the case either way. So I groaned and pulled myself off the couch, pulling on the first thing that I saw and winnowed with Mor to the front steps of the house. 

Azriel and Cassian were waiting to fly us up. Cassian wrapped his arm around Mor’s waist and Azriel did the same to me. I hardly felt my feet leave the ground before he was already placing me down in front of the door. I had not had the heart to come here since I’ve been home. Too many memories for me to want to come alone and Mor grabbed my hand as she pulled me through the threshold. We had just settled in before I heard the faint trails of Rhys and Feyre voices outside the door. I couldn’t stop the two males from bounding to the door, they flung it open to reveal a very annoyed looking Rhys. I held my breath as she stood in the doorway, eyes searching for something and she landed on me. She squared her shoulders but Cassian was already speaking.

”I promise we won't bite.” 

Last I heard, Cassian, no one has taken you up on that offer.” And I laughed as Feyre’s face blanched. I didn’t miss the way the female's eyes raked over the Illyrians as they stepped into the light. I tried not the bristle as her eyes lingered on Azriel just a fraction longer than I would have liked. Rhys introduced the two and it was Feyres response to one of his questions that made me feel a frision of pride. 

”How the hell did you manage to survive this long without anyone killing you?” She would fit right in and Cassian’s booming laugh told me that very same thing. Armen had appeared almost out of thin air as we all made our way to the table. 

Feyre was slowly filled in about how the three brothers had met. Her eyes flickered to me during the story. 

”Where do you fit into all of this, besides being his sister.” She quickly added. Everyone seemed to be waiting for me to answer. 

”I mean there's not much else to it besides that. He got stuck with them so I did too. I nearly knocked Cassian's teeth in the first time I met him and I’ve been stuck with them ever since.” I stuck my tongue out at Cassian who rolled his eyes. 

”You mean you broke your fist trying to, princess. I had to nurse you back to health and you were helpless but to fall for my charm.” Now it was my turn to roll my eyes and I fought the urge to throw my bread across the table at him. If it wasn't for Feyre I would have. The rest of the stories and tales flowed out and, much to Feyre’s credit, she didn’t falter in the slightest. She interjected at the perfect moments, making jokes that had everyone roaring with laughter. Then the tables were turned onto her and Cassian was asking her about her life. After she had finished she turned to Rhys.

’I accept your offer- to work with you.” And I wanted to scream and cheer. I felt no such joy from Rhys as he started.

”Good because we start tomorrow. Hybern is starting this war and he’s going to bring back Jurian to help him.” I felt a shiver run down my back. Rhys had neglected to tell me that part. In an instant the lighthearted conversation was thrown to the side and Cassian launched into full general mode.

 I tried my best to keep up with this new bit of information, how it would throw a wrench into any attempts of a plan. I missed the conversation that followed, mind already trying to figure out the adjustments I would need to make to the map in my office. Armen managed to snap me out of my thinking. 

”The Bone Carver might indeed be willing to talk to her.” She pointed a finger at Feyre and I went to argue against the ancient female. Rhy had beaten me to it. 

”Your choice, always your choice, Feyre.” and I tried to keep the fear off my face as she answered. 

”How bad could it be.” Cassians’ answer had her face pale as a ghost and it was clear dinner was over at that moment. The others reduced to arguing over the semantics and who would be doing what in preparation for their journey to the prison. My eyes suddenly felt very heavy at the sounds of their voices. Azriel’s gentle hand on my shoulder was the sign that the arguing had stopped at all. I didn’t need to be asked a second time and as he flew me back down to the ground below Velaris, I wondered if all of us would make it through the war a second time.

Next Chapter: Here

Taglist: @durgenyx @tothestarsandwhateverend @quinzzelx

[224bbaker]

So, hypothetically speaking, if someone had never been interested in Sherlock Holmes before but wanted to get into it because of Fawx & Stallion... Where should they start?

Oh my GOD, anon, so upset we didn't see this until now because what a great question and also, our show inspiring someone to go check out Sherlock Holmes?? Deeply upsetting for our characters but SO exciting for us!

Hopefully since you sent this you've just dived in to the stories--because, honestly, that's how both of our writers got into them as kids, and also because despite what roughly 40 contradicting scholars will try to tell you, the timeline is nonsense and Watson's continuity doesn't make sense (we have made our own peace with this and addressed it in-universe because we didn't want to go on deep-dives to decide what puns we were allowed to use for the place we're at in the timeline it's fine, we're fine).

However, just a quick sidebar before we jump into The Stories--if you would rather start with an adaptation than the original ACD stories themselves, there are two options we'd recommend as starting points that are pretty true to canon while remaining engaging in and of themselves:

The Granada TV series with Jeremy Brett and David Burke/Edward Hardwicke: It rules, and most of it's on YouTube! Highly recommend their Solitary Cyclist, Speckled Band, Scandal in Bohemia, and Blue Carbuncle (we may be biased towards the early, David-Burke-Watson entries). These actors and sets are what we picture when we read Holmes.

For an audio adaptation, the 1989 Bert Coules radio adaptation, which you can get for a single credit on Audible in full and has basically the whole canon! Incredible dramatization work that preserves the stories and really deepens the character work in a way that we're obsessed with. Big fans!

If you're liking the vibe of these, you'll probably like the stories themselves! In which case, there are also awesome online book clubs like Letters from Watson that have great communities here on Tumblr (just peruse the tag, it's super fun!), and also over on Discord.

SO. If you're still here and looking for our direction on the stories:

If you just want to start with what is/will be relevant to Fawx & Stallion, we recommend:

Our goal is that our audience doesn't NEED to have read any Sherlock Holmes to understand anything in F&S. We'll hopefully lay things out or give context clues. However, we do have little jokes for the fans, and in season 2, some subtext may be a bit clearer, or have a bit more weight, if you've read some of the stories.

A Study In Scarlet: I know, I know I know I know, Holmes fans, the Utah Mormon stuff, I get it, BUT. Holmes and Watson meet in this one, and it's incredible. The first few chapters of them meeting, starting to live together, going from roommates with a mutual fascination to, through Watson's unintentional insult of Holmes's writing and a fateful invitation to a crime scene, actual friends, are electric. It's a crime (pun intended) that we have so few dramatizations of this in the canon era (we're trying to fix that), we love it so so much. Sacrilege, but, wikipedia the stuff in the middle, enjoy the fantastic meet cute that bookends the thing.

Hound of the Baskervilles: Happening during the events of Fawx & Stallion season 1. I don't need to tell you this one is a banger, we all know this. Less Holmes content than you expect, but a GREAT setting, mood, and roster of suspects, and a thrilling, well-paced mystery with some great Watson.

The Final Problem: Occurs right before the events of season 2, and though you again don't need to have read it, some stuff might hit better if you have, particularly in the back half of the season. High recommend. On the same note, The Beryl Coronet is also mentioned a few times, which is the case right before this one.

Ok, with that out of the way, we highly recommend:

The "Jump Around To Whatever Short Story or Novel Sounds Cool" Approach

This is the move, in my opinion. As I've said before, the timelines are nonsense, you CAN try to get into the weeds of continuity as we have and there is delightful madness to that, but would I recommend it as an intro? No. They're short stories! They're serialized! Treat it like a TBS rerun series at 1 AM and just pick one that is on/sounds cool!

Now, if you want our PREFERENCE? There are different genres of Holmes mysteries, different types of mysteries for different preferences, but we're going to recommend one particular sub-genre of Holmes mysteries that we find particularly fun/unique: The "It's Not Necessarily A Crime Yet But the Vibes Are There" Mystery.

We love these. They're the best. Not depressing or gruesome off the bat, usually starting with some whimsy at Baker Street, these stories usually begin with a client coming to Holmes and the following interaction happens

CLIENT: Um, hi. Honestly it's pretty silly that i'm even here. It's probably just a Weird Thing, you probably don't-- HOLMES: No no no please tell me I love Weird Things. CLIENT: Ok. Well. My boss/guardian/brother/[insert-person-who-has-power-over-them] has been doing this Thing where he [insert extremely weird thing that again, is not a Crime, but the vibes are there]. It's kinda weird. HOLMES: Yeah, super fucking weird. CLIENT: I know! But it's not a crime, so I don't know, you're probably not interested, I'm just a [not rich not male not high class not privileged identity] so there's really no point in checking that out-- HOLMES: No girl (gn), we are DEFINITELY checking that shit out there's a crime in there somewhere and we're gonna find it!

And we're off! If this sounds interesting to you (and it SHOULD), check out: The Solitary Cyclist, The Red Headed League, The Copper Beeches, The Greek Interpreter, The Speckled Band, The Stockbroker's Clerk, The Musgrave Ritual, The Resident Patient, and honestly probably some others we're missing because it's REALLY common.

Other fun Holmes bangers:

Holmes overworks himself and Watson takes him to the country to rest, only to solve ANOTHER FUCKING MYSTERY: The Reigate Squires

The Christmas One!: The Blue Carbuncle

The Dancing Men: I don't have a fun little thing for this one it's just a banger and the Granada Adaptation rules!

The One Where Sherlock Holmes does NOT fall in love with Irene Adler but does get completely owned because 1) he thinks women don't get up early, and 2) he wanted to have a sleepover with Watson: A Scandal in Bohemia

There are a ton, and hopefully you'll find one that you like and just jump in!

[peakyswritings]

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

PART XI

Summary: the situation complicates further as Tommy’s stay in Sicily nears its end. It’s time for conversations, and things that have been buried for too long are brought to the light.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), time-typical misogyny, references to past attempted assault, harassment, violence, angst, English is not my first language. This chapter is 18+, smut (I’m still not used to writing it but here we go). This is set between season 1 and 2.

Like in some previous chapters, some conversations are supposed to be in Italian but for obvious reasons I kept them in English.

A/N: sorry this is really long. I hope it makes up for the wait!

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dividers credits

Tommy’s proposal to Agnese had brought quite the hustle in the Ferrante’s property. A stream of relatives and friends had been coming to congratulate the new couple in the past few days, and people continuously came and went to make the arrangements for the wedding - or simply pry in the family business. And with the engagement party being held that night, it was impossible for Nina to step out of the house without bumping into some caterer or seamstress or, if she was particularly unlucky, some cantankerous old aunt who would stray away from her as if she were the Devil incarnated.

Her mood, which was already dark to begin with, had considerably worsened, forcing her to withdraw into isolation to avoid all possible conflict. She was easily irritated, she couldn’t stand her mother’s complaints, her father’s deceitfulness, her brothers’ haughtiness, and she couldn’t help herself from talking back or snapping when something bothered her. She could tell they were fed up with her insolence, that she was treading on thin ice, but she drew a twisted satisfaction from getting on their nerves. It was the only way she had to get back at them for the hell they were putting her through. Her role in the family, the impossibility of being something more than she was expected to be, the threat of a forced marriage with Stefano that was becoming less of a prospect and more of a certainty with each day that passed. And now that. Having to watch as the marriage between Tommy and Agnese took form, pretending with her cousin she was genuinely happy for her.

It was tearing her apart from the inside. At this point, Nina couldn’t wait for them to get married, so that Tommy would leave her house, her country, and set her free from the deep ache she felt every time he was near. It would be difficult, at first, but in time she’d forget about him, about the way he made her heart race, about how safe she felt in his arms.

“I’m going over to aunt Rita,” her mother hastily walked into the kitchen, holding a sewing box in her hands. “I’m helping her embroider the bedsheets for the trousseau.”

“Mhm.” Nina merely raised her eyes from the book she was pretending to read. Hearing about bedsheets and trousseaus was the last thing she needed in that moment, especially if it had to become yet another excuse to reproach her for not having the intention to get married anytime soon.

All of a sudden the book was soon snatched from her hands. When she raised her gaze, her mother was looking at her with a stern look on her face.

“Your friend has been invited to the party,” she said bitterly, as though the matter was somehow her daughter’s fault.

Nina’s heart fell to the pit of her stomach. It didn’t take a genius to understand who said friend was.

“The whole Spinietta family has been invited,” Maria went on, slamming the book on the table.

She swallowed harshly, the implications of that gesture rapidly sinking in. “Are you serious?”

“I warned you,” her mother pointed a finger at her. “If you had listened to me, maybe it would’ve been Angelo, not him.”

Nina rolled her eyes. Again with her friend’s son. What did she want, to put a death sentence on the poor man? She grabbed the cup of tea that had grown cold in front of her, and got up to pour its content in the sink.

“Did I tell you he’s a teacher?” Maria started again. “I bet he acts all intellectual just like you.”

“If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll intellectualise away from me. Unless he wants to get on the Spiniettas’ bad side, that is. Or dad’s.” She started to aggressively scrub the cup, taking out her anger on the fragile item. “And who says he’d be interested in me anyway?”

Her mother looked at her as if a second nose had grown on her face. Despite her unusual behaviour, Nina carried herself well, looked nice, had an education that most girls could only dream of. Her Italian was outstandingly clean, almost devoid of dialectal influences, and clear. Her brain worked incessantly, she had complex thoughts, and it was often difficult to keep up with her. Not to mention how she managed to give even men twice her age a hard time with the sole power of her words.

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Maybe he’d find me ugly,” Nina shrugged, “or stupid.”

“You’re my daughter, you can’t be ugly or stupid.”

Nina let out a sigh, drying her hands on a towel. There was no point in arguing. In those situations, it was better to let her mum vent until she got tired of talking with a stone wall and gave up.

Maria dropped the sewing box on the table with a thud. Once she had her daughter’s attention back in her, she started speaking again, a grave expression on her face. “I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in. If your father says yes to Stefano, then he won’t be able to say no anymore,” she said lowly. “You need to act before he says yes.”

“He can’t force me.”

If her father really decided to go through with it, she’d drop the bomb on him that she wasn’t a virgin anymore. Maybe she could do it in front of Stefano, for the pleasure of watching his smug grin disappear from his face. Would she be irremediably deemed as a whore? Yes. Would she bring shame upon her whole family? Absolutely. It would still be better than being Spinietta’s wife.

“You can’t change my mind on this, mum,” she concluded in a tone that didn’t leave any room for discussion.

Her didn’t mother didn’t reply, but the disapproval was clear on her face.

“You know what?” Maria picked up the box from the table again and put it under her arm with a nervous gesture. “I don’t care. Do what you want,” she said sharply, leaving the kitchen.

As soon as she heard the front door closing, Nina exhaled deeply. That was another issue she’d have to deal with, apparently. She wasn’t sure her mother would give up so easily, and she was scared she’d try to act behind her back like her father was.

Her father. Her blood boiled in her veins as her mind went back to the reason why the argument she had just gotten out of had started in the first place. It was time to talk to him, to make it clear that she would never accept to marry that bastard, that she didn’t need time to decide cause she had already made up her mind. The sooner they had that conversation, the sooner all that would end. Hopefully.

Animated by a fiery resolution, Nina strode through the house with large, quick steps. She didn’t pay attention to her brothers, who were heading to the kitchen to have breakfast, nor to Tommy, who was waiting in the large hallway for her father to let him in, and was now looking at her with a puzzled look on his face.

She stormed in her father office, slamming the door behind her. He raised his head from the papers he was signing, looking at her questioningly, but not without a hint of reproach for bursting into his private room without even knocking.

“What does this mean?” Her voice came out more high-pitched than she intended. She stopped in front of the dark wooden desk, forcing him to pay attention to her.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Her father leaned back in his chair, rolling his cigar between his fingers, keeping his oblivious facade. A new wave of rage ran through Nina, but she was careful to contain it. “You invited the Spinietta family to the engagement party,” she explained through gritted teeth.

Unimpressed by her accusations, he stubbed out his cigar, then folded is hands on his lap. “The Spiniettas are close friends of ours,” he said calmly.

“Right,” she let out a humourless laugh. “You became pretty close over the last month.”

“Business is growing.”

“Ah,” she nodded, raising her eyebrows. “Business.”

Her father clenched his jaw, and from the way his shoulders had stiffened she could tell he knew exactly where the conversation was going. And that he didn’t like her mocking tone.

“Is there a problem, Nina?”

“You tell me. Is there something going on that could be a problem for me?”

She wanted to hear it from him. She wanted him to admit it out loud. She was tired of being treated like she was crazy, like she was imagining things. She wanted honesty.

Vincenzo pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as if hit by a sudden headache. “I need to talk to Mr Shelby, can we-”

“You’re talking to me,” Nina said firmly, raising her voice.

Her father straightened his back, leaning with his elbows on the wooden surface in front of him. He fixed his gaze on her, his features hardening with austerity. “Mind how you speak to me, I’m your father,” he warned her.

“So I should stay quiet while you make decisions about my life,” she spat out. The way he was trying to impose his authority on her just because he had no arguments to defend himself made her stomach churn.

“I’m not making decisions.”

“You are,” she slammed a hand on the the desk. “Do you really think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

Her father reached his hand out, keeping his voice still low. “Calm down.”

“I will not calm down!”

Ferrante took a deep breath, raising from his chair to properly speak to his daughter. If there was one thing he didn’t tolerate, it was disrespect, but getting angry wouldn’t work, not now, at least. It would only make Nina more stubborn. If he wanted her to listen to him, he needed to get his point across nicely.

“What do you want to do with your life?” he asked her, apparently changing the subject.

Nina furrowed her brows, taken aback by his question. She could sense he was trying to direct the conversation somewhere, and she was quick to pull herself together.

“I want to study,” she said steadily.

“You’ve finished school,” he countered.

“There’s university.”

“Women don’t go to university.”

Nina squinted her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Then I want to work.”

“Poor women need to work. Do you want to ruin your hands in a factory?”

A glimpse of irony flashed across his face. Once again, his purpose seemed to be to make her feel stupid, or naive, like she had no idea how the world worked. The thing was, he was right, to some extent. Nina had little experience, she didn’t know everything. But there were things she knew, things she didn’t like, and she wasn’t going to accept them just because that was how life was.

Vincenzo walked around his desk to approach her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, his expression softening. “I’m only worried about you,” he said. “About what your life will be like if you go on like this.”

“It’s my life, dad,” she whispered, feeling the tears well up in her eyes against her will. “Maybe you’re right, and I’m ruining myself with my own hands. But the choice is mine to make.”

Despite everything, she thought she could make him understand. There had to be a way to get through him, to make him see, she didn’t want to ruin the bond they had always had. Because she would make her own decisions either way, and she wished for him to support her. She needed him to support her.

“You’re my daughter. I can’t stand back and watch you do that to yourself,” he shook her slightly. “Let go of these fantasies, Nina. Real life is something else.”

Of course. How stupid of her to imagine that he could even try to understand. She shrugged his hands off, forcing back her tears. “You’re wrong.”

Her father nodded to himself, taking a step back. “We’ll see,” he simply said. “As for Stefano, I told you already. The choice is up to you, I’m not forcing you to do anything,” he reassured her, but his condescending tone had the opposite effect.

“You’re not forcing me to do anything, but that son of a bitch is always around.”

“Language.”

Nina scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. He didn’t see the point. He didn’t want to see the point. He only cared about business, about power. Why was she wasting her time?

She made her way towards the door, but she stopped in her tracks when her hand grabbed the handle. After a moment of hesitation, she spoke again, but she didn’t around to look at him.

“You’re making a mistake.”

Tommy watched as Nina strode out of Ferrante’s study with a face like thunder. He had heard the screams, but he hadn’t been able to make out what the fuss was about, the long sequence of Italian sentences unfamiliar to him.

Those kinds of arguments had happened frequently, over the last three days. Nina had become unmanageable - not that she had ever been the manageable type. But she had gotten worse. If someone so much as glanced at her the wrong way or said one word too many, she’d turn it into an excuse to fight. She was sensitive, and snappish, and she seemed to have lost the ability to put on her mask of coolness and indifference. As a way to heal his wounded ego, which still burned from the things she had said to him, he told himself it was a good thing she had rejected him. If she had the gall to talk back to her father like that, there was no doubt she’d act even worse with her husband, and he had enough headaches already. And for sure, he would’ve never wanted to be at the receiving hand of her temper.

Nina stopped in front of him, recollecting herself, and Tommy couldn’t not notice she radiated the same frigidity as when they had met for the first time. “My father wants to see you, Mr Shelby,” she said coldly.

Ah, now she called him Mr Shelby. As if she hadn’t been whimpering his name in his ear a few nights before.

“I think we’re way past the formalities, sweetheart.”

His remark was enough to make her falter. She blinked up at him, shocked by his bluntness.

“Way past,” he repeated, raising his eyebrows.

“Will you lower your voice?” she hissed, taking a look around to make sure no one was near.

Tommy held back a smirk at her flustered state. Her usual frown had deepened, and a tinge of red had crept up her cheeks. Had the situation between them been different, he would’ve gladly went on. He had to remind himself he wasn’t in the position to tease her anymore. Nina had said it very clearly, she didn’t care about him. What had happened between them had been a mistake, she regretted it. She regretted him.

Then why were her eyes telling a different story?

Nina huffed, tucking a rebel strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s waiting for you,” she murmured.

Her arm brushed against his as she walked past him, sending a spark of electricity through his whole body. Leaving him wondering when he had gotten to the point where the slightest contact threatened to make his self-control crumble.

Nina examined her figure in the mirror, a niggling uneasiness taking over her. She wasn’t used to doll herself up like that. She had put on a beautiful dress for the occasion, done her makeup, managed to tame her long hair, and she had half-hoped she would be happy with the result once she was done. However, in her silk dress, in her makeup, with her hair away from her face, Nina felt like a fraud. Ridiculous, even.

She had always been the ugly duckling of the brood. When her cousins had started to bloom into beautiful women, she was still all elbows and knees, drawing the petty comments of her aunts, poorly hidden behind harmless jokes. She remembered all too well the embarrassment she felt every time they pointed out her flat chest, joking about how if she cut her hair she could be mistaken for a boy. She was ashamed to admit that even though she wasn’t that gawky kid anymore, those words had stuck with her. She tried to convince herself she didn’t care about being pretty, that her mind was her primary concern, but the truth was, sometimes she wanted to feel pretty.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself and just pretend, she told herself, straightening her back. It was a little exercise she had trained herself to do over the years. Head high, impassive face, don’t let them get to you, act like you know exactly what you want, walk like you know exactly where you’re going. It worked, most of the times. Maybe if she pretended long enough one day she’d be able to convince herself as well.

Once ready, she crossed the upstairs floor of the house, reaching the separate corridor in which her parents’ bedroom was located. Her mother was standing in front of a full-length mirror, fixing some pins in her hair. Nina leaned against the doorframe, and allowed herself to stay in her company for a while.

Out of the comfortable clothes she used to wear, out of the kitchen, out of the restraints of her role as a wife and a mother doomed to annihilate herself, she looked years younger. The dress she was wearing was modest, elegant, and the dark blue shade perfectly complimented her complexion. The shadow of a rare genuine smile grew on her face as she put on her pearl earrings, mixed with an emotion Nina couldn’t quite recognise. She could almost swear there were tears in her eyes. Nina realised she didn’t even remember the last time she had seen her mother taking care of her appearance like that, and that finally having the chance to do it must be a source of melancholy as well as joy. Was that what a life dedicated to the care of a whole family had done to her? Had she forgotten herself to that degree?

“What are you looking at?” Maria asked gruffly, glancing at her daughter through the mirror.

How sweet. Nina pursed her lips to hide a sly grin, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Nothing.”

Her mother frowned, smoothing down her dress, then she turned around to face her. She looked at the ground for a moment, then back at Nina, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. “How do I look?”

A pang of sorrow spread in Nina’s chest at the thought that her mother might feel anything else but beautiful. “Stunning, mum,” she said truthfully.

“Is this too much?”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s perfect.”

The older woman turned to the mirror again, her features softening. “Go downstairs, tell your father I’m almost ready.”

Reluctantly, Nina mustered up the courage to get out of her hiding, mechanical step after mechanical step, like a man facing the gallows. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to feel her relatives’ judgmental stares on her. She didn’t want to see Stefano. She didn’t want to watch Tommy and Agnese be officially presented as a couple. Husband and wife. It made her feel sick. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Tommy standing on top of the staircase, checking the time on his pocket watch, handsome in his formal attire.

His head shot up upon hearing the sound of her footsteps, and for a while it felt like the whole world had stopped turning just for him to have that moment. That moment to look at her, to take in the sight of her in her long, light blue dress that enhanced her tanned skin; with her ebony hair pinned up, exposing her delicate neck and cleavage, instead of hiding her as usual.

“You…” Tommy’s breath hitched in his throat, his mouth dry. You’re beautiful.

He didn’t dare say it.

“Hi,” Nina murmured, fidgeting with her own fingers. She had no idea of what to do or say. Standing there and staring at him like an idiot was clearly not an option, so she decided to approach the stairs. But one look at the long series of steps was enough for her to understand that there was no way she could descend it in her heels without making a fool of herself. Had she been alone, she would’ve gripped the railing like her life depended on it and ungracefully stomped her way down.

As if he had read her mind, Tommy offered her his arm without uttering a single word. He limited himself to peering at her, his gaze indecipherable, intense. Nina accepted his help, trying not to think about how natural it felt to have her hand in the crook of his elbow as they climbed down the stairs. Her legs were shaking, probably not because of the shoes, and she just hoped she wouldn’t trip over her feet and ruinously fall on her face. When she walked down the last step, she realised she had been holding her breath the whole time.

“Thank you,” she whispered, letting go of his arm.

Tommy nodded, taking a step back.

He needed a drink - or possibly two or three - to give him the strength to get through the night. Now more than ever he felt like he was putting handcuffs around his wrists rather than a ring on his finger. He had been telling himself that everything was going reasonably well, that following the plan which had been made over a month before was the best thing to do. He was going to marry the woman they had chosen for him, a beautiful woman, who would make him look good. Agnese was sweet, and gentle. She would take care of the house, of him, give him children. He would have a good life with her. She would bring him peace, turn his house into a safe place away from the wickedness of his business.

Nina would’ve brought him the storm. With her, a life of confrontation, of compromise, maybe even conflict would’ve awaited him. He would’ve had to answer to her, to accept her sharp edges and the sides of her that weren’t easy to deal with.

No, he was lying to himself. Confrontation, compromise, conflict had been his daily bread since he was a kid. His restless nature had never cared for peace. His skin was thick enough not to get cut on her edges. And pain had never scared him anyway. But that didn’t matter. The wedding would be in two weeks, then he would leave that place behind. Leave Nina behind. He’d forget about her like he had forgotten about Grace. He had done it once, he could do it again. Even if he’d prefer to rip his heart out of his chest.

For the engagement party, Agnese’s family had chosen to celebrate in the garden that surrounded the two houses. Everything had been planned with the outmost care: there were tables, flowers, candles, waiters balancing trays of champagne, musicians playing mesmerising tunes. A whole team of chefs had been hired for the delicious dinner. Nina had been pleased to find out that she wouldn’t have to share the table with Stefano, this time, who had sat with his family and other guests far away from her. Nevertheless, she had barely touched her food. Her stomach was still twisted from the events of the day. Now she was standing aside, watching as some couples gathered to dance. Including Tommy and Agnese.

They were both beautiful. Exceptionally so. Agnese was radiant in her ivory dress, she glowed with the happiness of a girl who was about to see all her dreams come true. Tommy held her in his arms with great gentleness as they swayed to the rhythm, and despite the vicious bites of jealousy, Nina was unable to look away. He’d fall in love with Agnese, of that she was sure. Her cousin was stunning, and sweet, and caring, all things Nina was not. Tommy would fall in love with Agnese and realise how blind he had been for ever setting his eyes on someone like her.

A tall figure came to stand by her side, and she was engulfed by the smell of a strong cologne mixed with cigar smoke. The man exuded an aura of power, dominance, along with a calm that was nothing more than a cover for something far more dangerous, unpredictable. Vito Spinietta. Her body tensed, and she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest. Sending him a sideways glance, she was met with his calculating gaze. He was inspecting her, assessing her, searching for any weak point as though he could read into her.

“Good evening,” he said, not taking his eyes off her.

“Good evening.”

A heavy silence followed. Nina wasn’t a fool, she was aware that if Stefano’s brother had taken the trouble to go speak to her it wasn’t to make small talk. The heir to the Spinietta empire was too practical a man to waste his time on pleasantries, and certainly wasn’t there for the pleasure of her company.

“I know there’s no point beating around the bush with you,” he said, confirming her suspicions. “So I’ll be direct. I’m here on behalf of my brother.”

Nina tilted her head in amusement. Had it really become a family matter? Had a no on her part caused such commotion?

“Stefano’s a good guy,” he announced solemnly. “It’s just that sometimes he acts the wrong way.”

Nina had to hold back a dismissive laugh at his statement. A good guy. It was almost as pathetic as the excuse he had made up for his behaviour.

“What am I supposed to do with this information?”

“He cares about you.”

“So you’ve taken it upon yourself to play Cupid,” she said bitterly, with a little edge of sarcasm, earning herself a stern look. “It doesn’t suit you,” she shook her head, mocking him behind an expression that was meant to feign innocent honesty.

Vito raised his chin, reacting with silence to her insolent replies. “It would be good to unite the families, considering the circumstances,” he said instead. “And a rejection could be seen as…” he paused, searching her face. “An offence.”

His words had Nina knitting her eyebrows in a frown. He had pronounced them in an ambiguous, vague way, but she hadn’t missed the gloomy undertone. “Is this a threat?”

“What do you take me for?” he asked, clearly just pretending to be offended. “I’d never threaten a woman.”

He was playing the card of the man of honour. As if he and his brother hadn’t done even worse to the girls of the town. She had to say something now. Too long had she let Stefano scare her, she wouldn’t make the same mistake with Vito. The Spiniettas weren’t the only ones who got power, she came from a tough family as well, and she would no longer forget who she was.

“Listen,” she started, turning to properly look at him. “I’m not scared of you, or your brother, or your threats.”

Vito clenched his jaw, his mouth twisting into a grimace.

Nina took a step towards him, further decreasing the already short distance between them. “You two think you can do as you please because I am a woman?” she narrowed her eyes. “Think again. Cause one word from me and you’ll see your whole organisation fall around your ears.”

“Is this a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

Nina wanted to see his mask slip. She wanted him to reveal himself, like Stefano had revealed himself not so long ago, when he had put his hands on her in her own house. She wanted him to give her a reason to draw her knife on him, there, in front of everyone. But Vito wasn’t Stefano. It would take a lot more to make him lose his composure.

Vito took a step back, observing her. He could see why his brother was so adamant on having her. Stefano had always loved a good challenge. He didn’t want someone obedient by nature, someone who would listen to his every command. He wanted someone difficult, someone he could take his time to bend. Or break. It would’ve taken way more than a few slaps to break that one.

Their conversation came to an end when Stefano walked up to Nina, holding out his hand to her. “Wanna dance?”

Nina took a look around. Her situation hadn’t gone unnoticed: most of the guests had been peering at her and Vito, trying to figure out what was going on, and now that Stefano had entered the picture, they were sending them subtle glances, waiting to see if Nina would’ve accepted his invitation. Her first instinct was to say no, but leaving him there in front of everyone would cause quite the stir, and surely take the attention away from the new couple. That was Agnese’s night, and she didn’t have the right to ruin it for her. Not after what she had already done. So she placed her hand in his, and unwillingly let him lead her to the dance floor.

His hand was light on her waist as he lead the dance, yet that contact felt heavy, violent. It made her skin crawl. She focused on the ground behind his shoulders, trying to ignore the weight of people’s stares on them. She was afraid to raise her head and find out Tommy was watching too.

It didn’t take her long to detach herself from her surroundings. She didn’t hear the music, she didn’t see the couples dancing around them, she was only uncomfortably aware of Stefano’s proximity, of the heat of his body, of the burning marks his hands seemed to leave into her flesh. He had the predatory eyes of a raptor as he scrutinised the uncovered parts of her body, taking on the appearance of a beast waiting for the right moment to bite.

“I love you, Nina,” he whispered in her ear, his tone pleading. “I want to make you happy. I want to give you everything.”

Nina could read it on his face. He did think he loved her, he was truly convinced that his sick obsession was love. It’s wasn’t merely a matter of wounded ego, he was sincerely hurt in his own, twisted way. And that was something that could potentially make him even more dangerous. A shiver ran down her spine, but she forced herself not to shy away, and she let him speak without interrupting him.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes with you, and I want to fix them. Let me make it right.” His arm tightened around her as he brought her even closer. “I can be good to you.” There was desperation now in his voice. Nina tried to put some distance between them, but he didn’t let her. “I can be good to you, and you can be good to me. I’ll teach you how to be good to me.” His fingers curled around her hand in a painful grip. “Think about what we could be together. Say yes.”

Nina squeezed her eyes, overwhelmed by his insistent touch, his urgent words; disgusted by the image of them living in the same house that had forced itself into her mind; repulsed by his eagerness to mould her.

The music ended, bringing them back to reality. Nina was relieved to be able to pull away from Stefano, whose grip had finally loosened. He was out of his mind if he thought she could ever forget what he had done to her. A wave of rage ran through her, but she was careful not to let it show. Straightening her back, she looked him dead in the eyes, and just one word left her mouth.

“No.”

Stefano’s face fell, disappointment and anger battling in his irises, and his fist clenched by his side. However, Nina didn’t stay there to wait for a reaction. She turned on her heels and walked away from him, from the dance floor, from the crowd of nosy guests. Her inner turmoil grew with every step, and her state of panic was such that she didn’t even realise she had entered her house. With an irritated huff, she hastily fumbled with her impractical shoes and left them at the entrance, then sought refuge in her bedroom.

She took some deep breaths, rubbing her face. It felt like the more she tried to fix things, the more she made them worse, and there was no way out of that endless cycle. What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to act? Who was she supposed to beg to drag her out of that situation? Because it was becoming clearer and clearer that she wouldn’t be able to make it by herself. When had things taken that turn? Had there been a mistake, a single, fateful mistake she had made that had caused all of that? Or was it someone else’s fault? Or was it no one’s fault?

Too many questions, not enough answers. Racking her brains to find a pattern, to put order to the events was useless. They were too tangled, too intricate. It hadn’t started when she had made love with Tommy, nor when he had kissed her, nor when he had appeared in her life. It hadn’t even started when she had pointed a knife at Stefano’s throat, nor when she had let him get close to her all those years ago at school. Had it started, perhaps, when she had insisted on studying? Was it her punishment for wanting more than she could have? More questions, still no answers. The worst thing was, she couldn’t see a way out.

There was a soft knocking on the open door, and when Nina turned around Tommy was there. He looked exhausted, as if the evening had drained him of all his energy. It was unusual to see him like that, he wasn’t the kind of man who let his distress show. For the first time, she realised how much the whole marriage situation had taken a toll on him.

If the reasonable part of her wanted him to leave, the other - the one she seemingly had no control over - needed him close to her. It was absurd how reassuring his presence felt. Maybe that was what had drawn her to him in the first place. When everything around her was swirling, when there was nothing certain or reliable, Tommy was stable, solid. Something to hold on to.

Nina forced those thoughts away. She was losing her mind. Tommy was the least stable thing in her life. He wasn’t there to stay, he would leave in two weeks time and she would never see him again, except for a few occasions, like Christmas or maybe weddings. Indulging in that kind of fantasy would only make things harder.

“Is this your plan?” Tommy suddenly asked, a hint of accusation leaking out of his neutral tone. “Say yes to Spinietta?”

Nina felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over her, and her musings disappeared to give way to pure surprise. “What?” she asked in disbelief, widening her eyes.

“You heard me.”

“That’s ridiculous, I’d never do that.”

“Is that why you were dancing with him?” he raised his eyebrows, pointing at the door with his finger, as if Stefano were outside the room.

Nina shook her head, still not believing they were actually having that conversation. “You shouldn’t mix whiskey with champagne,” she said dryly, her voice coming out harsher than she had intended. But Tommy didn’t seem fazed by it.

“You looked rather intimate,” he noted with a touch of contempt, too upset to realise how preposterous his assumptions sounded.

Nina’s mouth fell agape. She hadn’t missed the inflection in his voice. Was he… jealous? She squinted her eyes, taking a step towards him. “What’s this?” she inquired.

Her question seemed to catch him off guard. He wavered, and an emotion difficult to define flashed across his features. It was more than simply pain. It was like all the resentment Tommy had harboured since that fateful afternoon was flowing out, inexorable, making him unable to think with a clear mind. Biting back was the only way he had to protect the feelings he had foolishly let show. Guilt ate at her stomach at the sight, and she had to remind herself she had done what she had done for him, before anyone else.

As if finally coming back to himself, Tommy clenched his jaw, and took on his usual, impassive expression. “I can’t believe you,” he murmured. “After everything he’s done to you.”

Nina nervously fidgeted with her fingers, not knowing how to make him see that he couldn’t be more wrong. Did he think so little of her? “I’m not..” she trailed off, torn between her sense of guilt and her pride. The latter took the upper hand. She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “You have no right to lecture me.”

“True,” he nodded. “I have no right. Cause what happened between us was a mistake and you don’t care about me.”

That was the point. That had always been the point. Tommy thought she had cruelly played him, maybe even used him, just to discard him when she didn’t want him anymore. She exhaled deeply, not meeting his eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s not like that,” he let out a humourless chuckle. “You said it, you’re taking it back now?”

“Stop it.”

“Eh?” Tommy’s voice raised, overlapping hers. “Are you taking it back?”

“I said stop.”

“You said-”

“I lied!” she snapped.

A tense silence fell in the room. Tommy blinked, and all the bitterness faded from his features. “Wha… what?” he stuttered, a confused frown forming on his face.

Nina didn’t regret her admission. She was so tired of pretending, of lying, of hurting him, and saying it out loud lifted a weight off her shoulders.

“I lied,” she repeated, more softly. “I never meant to hurt you. I…” her voice cracked. “I did it to protect you. To protect both of us.” There was no going back now. Her walls had been breached, and the words she had fought hard to keep to herself were leaving her lips before she had the chance to measure them. “Do you have any idea how much we’re risking? I’m risking? We talked about it, I told you how these things work.”

Tentatively, Tommy broke the distance between them, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up. “Is this what you’re scared of?” he asked incredulous, searching her face frantically, his frown deepening. “I’d never let anything bad happen to you. I’d never let anyone lay a fucking finger on you. You hear me?”

Nina believed him. He would stand between her and harm’s way without a second thought. But that was the problem. She took his hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over it before pulling it away from her face. “And what about you?”

“What?”

“Do you really think you could’ve changed your mind? That they would let you, at that point? You made your decision when you started courting Agnese.”

“Maybe they would’ve understood-”

“No. Her father would’ve wanted your head for humiliating his daughter. The deal would’ve been off and you would’ve been six feet underground in a matter of hours.”

And I’d never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you because of me, she wanted to add.

Tommy didn’t reply, but the pain in his eyes spoke for him. He knew she was right.

Nina gently stroked his cheek. “We never had a chance,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m not worth starting a war over.”

Tommy squeezed his eyelids, shaking his head as if to chase that unbearable thought away. Then, impetuously, he kicked the door shut and crushed his lips against hers. The force of the kiss knocked Nina’s breath out of her lungs, but she was quick to wrap her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies together.

Tommy backed her towards the dresser behind her, then he hoisted her up in his strong arms and sat her on it. A groan left his lips when Nina hooked a leg around him, bringing him even closer. His hands roamed down to her hips, gripping, squeezing, his tongue exploring her sweet mouth. He relished her warmth, her scent, her soft hands caressing his face, trying to imprint every little feeling into his memory. He wanted her, in the most raw, primal way. Because it was the only way he had to have her. Or at least, to delude himself he did. She was like water in his hands, she slipped through his fingers again and again, never letting him hold her, never letting him keep her. But with his fingers digging in her skin, she almost seemed real.

Pulling away to catch his breath, Tommy dropped his forehead into her neck, grabbing her waist. “You’re killing me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You’re fucking killing me.”

Tears began to stream down Nina’s cheeks. She felt like the worst person alive. She was causing so much pain, to him, to herself. She gently stroked the back of his head, sniffling. “You should go,” she compelled herself to say, although in that moment she wanted nothing more than for him to stay. “They’ll notice your absence.”

“They’re all drunk, they won’t,” he contradicted her.

“Agnese will.”

“She’s with her sisters.”

“But-”

Tommy’s head shot up to look at her, silencing her with his icy glare. “Fuck them,” he husked, wiping away her tears.

Fuck them.

Their mouths collided again. Blood rushed through Nina’s veins as Tommy kissed her hungrily. She could feel him everywhere, she was completely enveloped by him, by his smell of soap, whiskey and cigarettes, by the feeling of his rough hands, and yet she wanted more. She wanted to crumble and be brought into a new existence, to melt in his arms and become one heart, one body, one soul.

They only parted so she could help Tommy get free of his jacket. He was back on her right away, leaving a trail of kisses from her neck down to her chest, his teeth grazing the soft skin from time to time, making goosebumps ripple down her skin. He impatiently lifted her dress, fingers brushing against her smooth legs. More free to move, Nina allowed him more space, and her insides clenched with desire when she felt the bulge in his trousers against her.

Tommy’s hand ghosted over her clothed sex, making her squirm in anticipation. “Tommy,” she moaned, urging him to touch her where she needed the most. Pushing her underwear to the side, he slid two digits into her wet entrance, coaxing a sinful, beautiful sound out of her lips. Nina held onto his shoulders as he started to move his fingers, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Look at me,” Tommy commanded, cupping her chin with his free hand. Her eyelids fluttered open, showing him her glossy eyes filled with pleasure, causing his cock to painfully twitch.

He pumped his fingers in and out of her, working her open, eliciting small gasps from her that threatened to make him lose his mind. His thumb went to stroke her clit, the unexpected motion making her yelp.

Fuck, she was so beautiful.

“Tommy, please…” she whispered, clutching the soft material of his shirt. “I need you.”

She didn’t need to say it twice. Wasting no time, Tommy slid his fingers out of her to get rid of her knickers, discarding them somewhere on the floor, then fumbled with his trousers, finally freeing himself from all restraints. He grabbed Nina’s thighs, pulling her closer to the edge of the dresser so he could position himself between her folds, then he entered her with one swift thrust, burying himself inside of her. Nina hid her face in his shoulder, one hand coming to cup the nape of his neck, the other clutching the fabric of his shirt. Tommy began to rock his hips, firmly yet slowly, giving her the time to adjust to the feeling of him stretching her walls.

Nina clung onto him as if he could shield her from the unknown, as if he were a shelter, a place where she could forget, even for a moment, the uncertain future that awaited her. A future she tried to escape from, but the more she ran, the more she found it on her heels, ready to catch her, to drag her into the darkness that had been threatening her for years.

Tommy’s pace quickened, becoming more desperate, almost brutal, arms wrapped around her waist, bringing every inch of their bodies together. Nina was surprised to find that was exactly what she needed in that moment. It kept her anchored to him and only him.

“You feel so good,” Tommy growled, digging his fingers in her flesh, and her cheeks burned at his words.

He set a merciless rhythm, pounding into her with sharp thrusts. Nina barely recognised the sounds that were coming out of her, but she was too lost in her pleasure to be worried about them. Breath hitched in her throat when he reached a particular spot that made her see stars, and he hit it again and again, drawing shaky whimpers out of her. With each minute that passed she felt closer and closer to her release, and Tommy must’ve been aware of that too. She let out a strangled noise when he brought a finger to her swollen clit, the fire in her abdomen too much to bear.

“C’mon, love,” he rasped. “Cum for me.”

He drew small circles on her sensitive bud, pushing her over the edge. Her walls fluttered around his cock, shockwaves gripping her body as she came undone. Tommy kept on thrusting into her, hips ruthlessly snapping as he chased his climax, until with a last, powerful thrust, he emptied himself inside of her, grunting in her ear.

For a while, neither of them moved. They stayed in each other’s embrace, panting, savouring that ephemeral semblance of peace. Nina nuzzled her cheek against his, the comforting scent of his aftershave filling her nostrils. Neither of them seemed to intend to let go first.

God, she didn’t want to let him go. Before she could control them, tears filled Nina’s eyes again, and she tried her best to prevent them from falling. Why did it have to be so hard? Why did she have to fall for the one man she could never have? Why did her happiness have to cause so much damage? The most irrational part of it was that despite all of that, being in his arms felt like the rightest thing in the world. They perfectly moulded together like they had been created just fit into each other’s arms, to fill each other’s voids. Nothing she had ever felt could compare to it.

Eventually, they moved apart. They fixed their clothes in silence, pulling themselves together as best they could. Not that Nina cared at all. There was no way she was going back to the party. No one would notice anyway.

“Go,” she whispered, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen on his forehead. “They must be looking for you.”

Tommy gently cradled the back of her head, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll come to you later,” he promised.

Nina nodded, forcing herself to smile. But tears started flowing as soon as she watched him walk out the door.

NEXT CHAPTER

Heart, Body and Sould tag list

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse

@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @outlanderuniverse @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

@look-at-the-soul @gathania93 @wonderlanddreamer @thelastemzy @meadows5

@emotionalcadaver

General tag list:

@iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella

@caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24

@kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat @areyenotfondofmelobster

@red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby tag list:

@50svibes @bellabarnes1378

[cosmerelists]

Mistborn Era 1 Characters Read The Mistborn Era 2 Books

As requested by @foxofscadrial :)

[Spoilers, as you might imagine, from all of Mistborn Era 1 & 2!]

I've done this for Stormlight a couple of times: Stormlight characters read the The Stormlight Archive (link here) and they also read just the Kaladin chapters (link here). Now we're going to have the characters from Mistborn Era 1 sit down to read the Era 2 series: how will they react?

Now, just for the record...some of these characters are in both eras. For those characters, it's their Era 1 version doing the reacting, if that makes sense--like they're seeing their own futures.

1. Vin Live Reactions

Vin: This world seems so beautiful... So green... So vibrant... I'm gonna cry... Vin: THE STATUES OF ME AND ELEND 😭 Vin: Wow. I wish *I* had guns. Guns seem cool. Vin: It.....feels weird that everyone wants to be me. Like, sometimes I barely wanted to be me. Vin: ....Allrianne set the gender norms? I'm so sorry, women. Vin: TENSOOOOOOON! That speech about me...I can't take it... Vin: Killing a whole building of people, huh? Been there, Wax. Been there. Vin: I'm kinda glad Sazed became god. It seems like a hard job. Glad I didn't get it. Vin: ...Man. I REALLY wish we had guns!

2. Lord Ruler

Lord Ruler: Ugh, it's even worse than I imagined. Lord Ruler: Everything was so STABLE and SAFE under my rule. Lord Ruler: And now people have "freedom" and "fun"...and giraffes for some reason. Lord Ruler: You all are gonna do SO bad in the Cosmere-wide fight. Lord Ruler: Good riddance. Lord Ruler: ... Lord Ruler: Also, that guy who ends up taking over--Lord Mistborn or whatever. Lord Ruler: Who even is he???

3. Sazed

Sazed: ... Sazed: ... Sazed: I seem stressed.

4. Marsh

Marsh: ... Marsh: So, it seems that I never escape from my brother's shenanigans. Marsh: ... Marsh: Strangely comforting, I'll admit.

5. Elend Live Reactions

Elend: Heck yeah. Democracy. Elend: Huh. The noble houses stayed, huh? I just...don't know how I feel about that. Elend: Wait a sec....did they just recreate the noble/skaa divisions but with hereditary nobility versus workers? Elend: No...don't be crazy, Elend. At least it's not horrible slavery. Things are better! Way better! Elend: Ugh, are they abusing the outer cities too?? That train system is so horribly inefficient!! Elend: Is it too late for me to tutor Spook in legislative philosophy???

6. Breeze & Allrianne

Allrianne: Omg, Breeze, can you believe it? Our ancestor is the hero! Breeze: Seems like quite a...scruffy independent fellow. Allrianne: Not a Rioter OR a Soother, though... That's unfortunate... Breeze: Wears nice suits in the Rough, though. Now THAT I can get behind. Allrianne: I think we did good. 🩷

7. Spook

Spook: Well. Spook: Huh. Spook: Knowing that my street slang is gonna be High Imperial one day... Spook: That might be just enough to get me through all this alive.

8. TenSoon

TenSoon: I could imagine many fates for myself. TenSoon: Serving humans and the Lord Ruler forever. TenSoon: Being killed. TenSoon: Undertaking the Resolution and turning back into a mistwraith. TenSoon: ... TenSoon: Inspiring a line of stuffed toys for human children was NOT something I ever considered. TenSoon: I'm so glad I met the Ascendant Warrior.

9. Tindwyl

Tindwyl: It is...gratifying to see that the Terris people have survived. Tindwyl: And that feruchemy has survived with us. Tindwyl: *tsks* Naming a street after me, though. It would be more valuable for them to come to understand the real us, rather than mythologizing us to such a degree. Tindwyl: Wax naming his daughter after me, however... Tindwyl: ... Tindwyl: That honor I will accept.

10. Kelsier Live Reactions

(Note: This is the living Final Empire version of the character)

Kelsier: ........There are HOW many metals?!? Kelsier: Heh. Flowers. You would have loved that, Mare. Kelsier: Oof, no Mistborn. That's kinda harsh. Kelsier: YOU'RE FUCKING KIDDING ME--THEY CALLED IT ELENDEL?! (muttering) They could have at LEAST called it Vindale. Kelsier: "Ascendant Warrior," huh? That's my girl. Kelsier: "High Imperial." LOL. Kelsier: Omg, Marsh?! Marsh?!? Kelsier: SAZED IS GOD?! Kelsier: Heh, nice to know I have a crew in any reality. Kelsier: Yeah. I think I'm gonna be fine.

[del-thetiredwriter]

Saintess of Dragons part 1

Part 2, part 3

Yandere/dark Targaryens-Velaryons x female modern reader

English is my second language

Gif is not mine

“My lady, Prince Daemon has informed that he wishes to see you.”

You put the paintbrush on the table at the voice of the maid.

"I understand. Help me get dressed. Do not touch the canvas, place the materials in their usual places, and finally, no one enters my study while I am away.”

As you passed through the corridors of the court , you saw the officials rushing in for the celebrations. It was that time of the year. The day everyone loved but you hated: "Rising Star Celebrations".

A new Star rose in the sky 11 years ago tonight, a Star never seen before, brighter than any other. That night, the dragons roared in unison as if celebrating someone's arrival, and the 'gods' sent a savior, a saint.

That saint was you. When you woke up one night, you found yourself in a bed in the Red keep, surrounded by council members and the royal family. You couldn't believe your ears when they explained their situation to you.

The whole thing was like a terrible joke. You really were in the book 'war and blood' that you read. Of course it sounds like amazing thing that living in your favorite series but actually it wasn’t.

⁎

You finally arrive in the room where Daemon is waiting for you.

“You took a long time to come.”

" There's nothing can be done. I'm busy" you said expressionlessly

“You look the same. Like I saw you 11 years ago tonight. You're still the same except for your clothes and that expression on your face. Indeed, as expected from the Saintess sent by the gods, the gods love you so much that they don't let time change you. You never age."

Daemon said, that look in his eyes that you don't like. He was staring at it like a Hunter looks at his prey.

“Are you jealous? Unlike you, I will always remain young and beautiful” You replied.

A laugh broke out from Daemon at your words.

“How are Laena and the girls?” you asked.

"They are good . They arrive in Kingslanding tomorrow. You know Laena is pregnant so she can't come directly on the dragon.”

“Yes,” you whispered.

‘She will die soon. Just like everyone’ you thought.

⁎

“Where have you been! You have to get ready for the night,” Rhaenyra said in a sweet angry voice.

“I was with Daemon. ” You said as Rhaenyra combed your hair.

“Daemon? Did he do or say anything strange to you?” Rhaenyra asked.

“Here's the usual Daemon. He didn't say anything very important." You said.

A deep sigh came from Rhaenyra. She looked sadly at your reflection in the mirror. She placed her chin on your shoulder and wrapped her arms around your waist.

"Rhaenyra?"

" You are very beautiful. Tonight is a special night that brought you to us, to me, but sometimes when I look at you, it feels like you will leave me at any moment. It's like you're going back to where you came from."

You didn't know what to say at Rhaenyra's words. She was right, you still wanted to go 'home', but you didn't know how. Living here in this world was exhausting and dangerous. You were afraid to change the future at the slightest mistake. You hated see peoples deaths and misery but order to stay alive and make sure future stays same you had to.

“Sometimes I want to lock you in a place where no one can find you, not even the gods, so you can’t leave me ” Rhaenyra whispered.

"What did you say?" You didn't hear what Rhaenyra said.

" Nothing . Now we have to go ." Said Rhaenyra, and you went to the celebrations together.

[adarkrainbow]

Why was Hansel the meal of the witch?

This is a question I was aked recently, and I thought it would make a good subject for a post. "Why did the witch only try to fatten up and eat Hansel? Why didn't she imprison and fattened up Gretel too? Why did she choose to make Gretel her slave instead of Hansel?"

Which is actually a fascinating question. Now, I do not promise that there is some grand truth or secret meaning behind this. It is just a little detail and some technical workings of fairytales. But it is a point that many authors and rewriters have taken an interest upon, and that if a true well of reinterpretations.

So let's go... Why was Hansel the meal, and Gretel the slave?

If we go by the "canon" of the text (of course "canonical" fairytales do not exist, this is just an expression) - if we go by the Brothers Grimm's text, we... well we do not know. It is not specified anywhere why the witch decides to lock up and fatten up Hansel out of the siblings, and to not do the same thing for Gretel. There is no reason explicitely spelled out or given. Maybe she simply prefers the meat of boys over the one of girls? This absence of justification, and the apparent "randomness" of the choice opens a door for authors who would like to change things: for example in "A Tale Dark and Grimm" (the book, not the Netflix series), it is both Hansel and Gretel that are fattened up by the witch, and she only picks Hansel as the first one to be roasted. The Looney Tunes Hansel and Gretel also were both in the cooking pot of the witch Hazel...

The text only leaves implications for the reader. For example, the need for the witch to have a slave/assistant to help her with the chores is implied by the facts that she is 1) elderly 2) has a very bad sight and 3) walks with crutches (a very important point). So it is understandable she would require a slave to help her - but then why pick Gretel, and not Hansel? Again, the text does not answer. Many people like to portray Hansel as the oldest child of the duo, and Gretel as a younger sister - this is because Hansel seems to be the strongest, bravest and most intelligent one, as well as with how his name always comes first in the text, Gretel being after him. Maybe the witch chose to eat him first because he was precisely older, and thus there was a more developed body to eat? Even if the siblings are of the same age, we can always imagine the very old and present male/female dichotomy that claims that men's body are naturaly stronger, larger and meatier than women's, who have graceful, slender, lighter bodies. Maybe such a concept is at work, putting forward a mindset where a cannibal witch will always go for boys first as a main course, and girls next as an appetizer...

One possible reading of the story is that the witch only had enough place to lock up ONE child and thus had to make a choice. Maybe there wasn't enough room for two kids in her prison for future meals? This interpretation is supported by the ORIGINAL text of the Grimm's fairytale. In the first edition of the brothers Grimm's fairytales (provided by Jack Zipes), there is an explicit mention of the place Hansel is locked in: it isn't some sort of stable or cage as it would later be described, oh no! It is a chicken coop so small Hansel can BARELY MOVE. It is a really tiny prison, in which he barely fits. Of course, on a practical side, it can help with the whole fattening process since having a child eat rich meals without ever moving is certain to make him plump in no time (just look at these horrible industrial farms and how they lock up animals in tiny cages) ; but this detail actually explained why the witch only placed her efforts on one child, and not two: she obviously had only enough to place to lock up one kid, and had to deal with the other in a different way.

But even if we admit all those implications - that the elderly, handicaped witch needed a help, that she had only enough room to lock up one child, that maybe Hansel as an older boy makes a better meal than Gretel - there are still some strange and bizarre logical holes. For example, the witch beats up and starves and exhausts Gretel. This is the complete opposite of what she does to Hansel, who is pampered and fattened up - does this imply the witch maybe does NOT want to eat Gretel? Or does she really have only enough resources to fatten up one child, and can only afford making Gretel more edible once she is done with Hansel?

Again, mysteries upon mysteries. Fairytales are not created to work on practical details or actual psychological processes - they are stories relying on powerful visuals and ancient motifs and a dream-logic-structure. When we are told that the witch locks up Hansel to fatten him up and eat him, and that Gretel is becoming an abused slave, we just accept it, because it works on a set of powerful visuals, such as the malnurished slave sister cooking and feeding her imprisoned and soon-to-be-killed brother. The idea of the sister being reduced to a tool in the process of killing her own brother is a very powerful one, never explicitly stated, but still present and sometimes used by adaptations. There was this German Hansel and Gretel movie released in 2005 that explicitly played on this: the children were never told by the witch her intentions when she locked up Hansel, and for the first week or so of Gretel being a slave and Hansel fattened up, they were left in the dark concerning the real intentions of their mysterious jailers. This was a stark contrast with many Americanized adaptations that have the witch gloating and explaining her cannibalistic desires to her victims, and which opened the door for some interesting plot points - in this movie's case, Gretel being quite jealous and envious of Hansel's new life of feasting and being kindly treated by the witch when she got all the insults and chores. Of course, when they discover the truth, their mutual feelings reverse as Hansel realizes his seemingly "easier" fate is actually the worst of the two.

Still, the text is left ambiguous and open-ended enough for us to imagine TONS of things. There could be a rewrite of the tale where the witch exclusively eats little boys, and hates little girls. One nterpretation of dark poetry of the tale can be found in Znescope's Gretel mini-series. Despite this mini-series having BIG flaws (the choice of the witch's true identity was... quite bad to be honest), it does have a very interestng and morbid answer to the "Why was Hansel the only one fattened up?" question. It chooses to depict this difference of treatment as a sick and cruel game the witch plays with her preys: Hansel and Gretel are both her prisoners, but she fattens up Hansel while she starves Gretel, to make a contrast between the two, simply out of a perverse amusement. There is one particularly striking image of the two children locked in two cages arranged like a weighing scale, with Hansel's cage going lower as he grows fatter and Gretel's going up as she becomes skeletal... It is a nice visual contrast that has been reused by various artists.

Now, I spoke mainly here of the content of the story and of the text itself. However, as I stated before, we must look beyond the story itself to understand why Hansel was to be the meal, and not Gretel. Or rather we need to look at the fairy tale's structure, on a meta-level.

As I said before, the fairy tale works here on a system of duality. Hansel and Gretel are meant to be a yin and a yang, complementary reflections. The boy and the girl, the brave and the coward, the cunning older brother and the crying little sister. The idea that their fates are "split" into the house of the witch not only furthers the anguish of the characters, who at this point were always together but now find themselves separated, unable to face together the same trials, but also keeps on playing on these visuals and motifs. As I said, there is something that many artists read in the tale, in the opposition between a malnourished Gretel and a feasting Hansel. This is part of the same duality of food and famine present all throughout the tale, such as the woodcutter's famished and poor household, opposed to the witch's house made of sweets and with chests full of pearls. The siblings represent two forms of abuse and evilness enacted by the witch, but in complementary forms: with Gretel the witch becomes a domestic abuser and an enslaver, with Hansel she becomes a jailer and an ogress.

One can also read in this an extension of the typical sexist duality between men and women in these old centuries: the fates the witch forces upon the two children can be caricatures of what each gender is supposed to "do" in such a society. Gretel, like women, is expected to do household chores and to cook for her "man" - here it is caricatured into her becoming a slave, and only helping fattening up her brother like some cattle. In return, Hansel, like a man, is supposed to be well-treated and well-fed, but here the caring wife/mother figure is a monstrous hag who only makes him feast so she could eat him later. In fact, it is quite interesting to see how both siblings are dehumanized and reduced to the status of animals - from Hansel being fattened up in the stables like some pig or chicken, to Gretel being fed leftovers like a dog.

All of that being said, there is another much needed argument that must be made: the answer fo thte question can be easily found in the story's structure. This is the most obvious solving of the problem when you consider it all: the story of Hansel and Gretel relies on the idea that the two children must save each other in turn. There is a balance in the tale, which bears the name of the two protagonists as heroes, but one before the other. During the first part of the tale, it is Hansel who takes the lead and the decisions. He is the cunning hero who tricks his parents, saves his sister from the woods, returns home thanks to his plan. Gretel is only seen being scared, and crying, and not doing anything except follow her brother around. In the second part of the tale, within the witch's house, it is Gretel who becomes the hero. Her brother is "out of the race", locked up away and unable to do anything, and it is Gretel who this time has to trick the deadly parental figure, come up with a clever ruse, and ultimately save her brother from death. This creates a perfect balance between the two characters: Hansel starts out as the hero protecting his useless sister, and then it is Gretel who vanquishes her uselessness to become the hero saving her own, impotent brother. The siblings need each other to survive, and thus save each other in turn. This is how the story works. And this is why Hansel must be the locked-up, fattened-up victim, so that his sister can save him. Else it would have been the story of "Hansel", and not "Hansel and Gretel".

All of that being said, a last point must be made about a final theory. A theory and reading of the tale that has been very prevalent and prominent in recent adaptations of the story.

The recent "Gretel and Hansel" horror movie did it. Before the (X horror movie) also did it. Neil Gaiman's Hansel and Gretel also used this idea. The comics Fables toyed with it in a side-way. And this idea is simple: the witch did not want to eat Gretel, but rather wanted to make her a witch like herself. Gretel wasn't the witch's slave, but unwilling apprentice.

This idea is born of course from a reconsideration of what a "witch" is, and the gender questions attached with the figure of the witch. In the original story, the witch is not a witch in the modern sense of the term, in fact she is a monster that is very clearly an ogress by another name. There is no question of learning how to be a witch, or making deal with dark powers, or anything like that. But when you read the tale with the modern sense of "witch", as a symbol of dark and hostile feminity, as a woman of power, who works against the domination of men, or the tyranny of patriarchy - when you consider all the gender questions surrounding real-life witches and the witch hunts, you see the witch's actions under a different eye. Her not wanting to eat Gretel at first, and making her do her chores, and forcing her to live with her, might hint at the fact she still considers her more "human" or more valuable than her brother, who is nothing but food, a mere cattle. Several of the modern reinventions of the tale, such as those stated above, decide to add the twist that the witch actually wants to shape or make the little girl into her image: from a slave doing the witch's chores, she becomes the witch apprentice, who is by her side in everything she does. Some of those readngs remove the elements of abuse towards Gretel, while others do not forget them. Neil Gaiman's take on the story is especially fascinating as the witch is explicitely described as oscillating between periods of sweetness and kidndness, promising Gretel all of her secrets and great powers, and periods of pure hatred and violence where she just insults and beats up the girl - all of it highlighting either the witch's madness, or a form of senility due to her old age.

But this theme of "Gretel as a future witch" or "Gretel as the witch's apprentice" ties in with another subtext well-hidden in the original text, but that many like to weave upon: Gretel as the "daughter" of the witch. In many of those rewrites and reinterpretations, the witch doesn't just treat Gretel as an apprentice, but as an heir or a replacement daughter. This is no surprise since it is very clear that in the original tale, the witch is the dark side of the mother figure, and an evil doppelganger of the wicked stepmother/mother of the siblings. As such, it makes sense for her to impose an abusive and unconsented motherhood upon Gretel - doesn't her forcing the girl to do all the chores not reminiscent of how famous fairytales stepmothers treat heroines like Cinderella? Such a perverse motherhood was already explicit and obvious in her treatment of Hansel: like a mother she nourishes and feeds Hansel (in fact she succeeds where the wicked stepmother failed), but this is all to devour him, in a ritual of "un-birth", she becomes a death-givers who doesn't expel a child out of her womb, but has it return to her stomach. [This is a very common and usual motif among ogres of fairytales, who are all caricatures of parenthood].

More generally, to have the witch act in such a way actually makes the fairytale more "feminist" somehow, but in a quite perverse way. Because in such a reading, we have a women-dominated world. The true active and powerful characters of the story are beings such as the wicked stepmother and the witch, who command, control and influence the other characters - especially the male ones. The father is a weak puppet who can't stand up to his wife, Hansel is reduced to a fat pig in a cage. Hansel did try to escape the tyranny of the wicked woman, but all he could do was push back his doom, and his plans ultimately failed. Gretel, as a woman herself, is given a special treatment - and in the "apprentice/daughter" interpretation, is "absorbed" by this world of wicked, dominating women. But she actually breaks from it, and kills the one that would have "turned" her - and it is telling and interesting that the only one who can have a true an full success, a definitive victory in this tale is Gretel. Hansel's plans work and save them, but only for a brief time, and his last plan fails dramaticaly, before he gets locked up and "out of the story". Gretel meanwhile, when she gets the courage and intelligence to act, proves herself much more efficient and definitive than her brother, as she puts a true end to the threat other them by killing the witch (and by extension killing the wicked stepmother/mother). This is something Hansel couldn't do - all he could was trck the wicked woman, and nullify her plans, but he could not remove the threat of the death and the hunger.

Anyway, as you can see, despite being a quite superficial and silly question, this fact (or rather absence of facts) opens up a whole jar of various interpretations, readings and themes, and proves the hidden complexity of these apparently "simple" stories.

[galactic-rhea]

The thing with Anakin TCW is that I try to reconcille both "versions" of Anakin, but because I keep in mind that at the end of the day, TCW is a serialized kids show, and he's also a general and in charge of a padawan so he must be really charismatic for that to work (long rambling ahead)

This show came in an era where shows ran long, with very random plots per episode and just very few that advanced "a plot", so characters that are new for the show get more development (since they were at zero), and Anakin with already three movies (technically 6 if we count the original trilogy), a mini series, and a bunch of books and comics, feels more flat for the very short narrative purposes.

The way i see it, TCW can be like seeing Anakin from someone's else eyes, like that's probably how Obi-Wan and Ahsoka and Rex saw him, cocky and sassy and fearless and daring and untouchable and cool and sometimes with anger coming from apparently nowhere, and the movies are the actual "omnipresent" look, we see how actually deeply fucked up and scared Anakin is!

TCW gives like a very pink tinted glasses view of him, a very standarized version of him, since the "otherness" that he has in the prequels was really hated (and with otherness i mean that he acts alienated and tormented, is because of the trauma, but also because he can be so easily read as neurodivergent and/or queer; movie Anakin looks like he might as well be a giant walking target for bullying, so to speak), so TCW Anakin looks like he totally would have never ever been bullied, he's the cool kid.

If I don't constantly keep on mind this is probably Ahsoka's POV, it can be a bit hard to connect, like the last episodes in TCW, when he sees Ahsoka, he's like 2 days before ROTS, and he looks so cheerful and normal and sassy, but then if you look at ROTS, he looks so tired and beaten up and just depressed after that battle. But Anakin, in AOTC and ROTS, in general, is a person that looks like doesn't even want to be there at all, he looks like he would rather turn invisible.

I don't have that many problems with Anakin in TCW except for certain arcs (looking at you clovis), because many things in the show do add to Anakin's narrative and character (or more like, pilling up even more trauma onto him for the big moment), but it's not a complete look because by the point we should see how he's dealing or coping with something the episode ends and the next episode is about something different. TCW is plot focused and there are very little "breathing" moments before the action, and is not very character focused. Which leaves the audience with the task of remembering that whatever happened in the show is another piece of the puzzle that may or may not fit perfectly with the character that was presented on the prequels.

"This episode very painfully reminds you that he was a slave, and he's angry about it, very angry...for one bit of the episode, let's go back to the fun action." It touches it, but it doesn't explore it, if you get what I mean? Like, we can only imagine if he had difficult weeks after that or how even was the conversation after all that whole mess, just as an example.

I agree that Anakin in TCW is a incomplete version of his character, because TCW focuses a lot on the Clones and Ahsoka and other little stories, however I also think it does add lots of stuff to explore, even if the show didn't explore it deeply, but touched on it.

And I understand too why it causes such a division, and why some may prefer the TCW version more, and why some may prefer only the movies version.

I mainly use the movies, and then take from TCW what I feel like it fits/makes sense for him, and shake TCW a little bit if i need to, although i still really love it : D

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

Sagau touched starved reader but you know got trauma so not comfortable with being touched. Like staring like a cat for affection but terrified of being hugged back or things like that

You got it, Anon! Though, I will warn you a little: I'm not going to go too deep into detail with the trauma stuff. It'll be very brief.

Touch Starved! Reader Wanting Hugs From Zhongli, Diluc, and Al-Haitham...With A Twist.

Zhongli

The moment he realizes that you are touched-starved, this old man isn't exactly sure what to do. After all, you got some extreme PTSD going on after the whole "imposter-creator" fiasco.

He does try to approach it as a topic, but since you're weary of (quite literally) everyone and find suspicion in every action, you kind of catch on to his intentions. And Zhongli notices this, but he's still going to take it slow.

"I assure you, Your Grace, I will not push your boundaries lest you are uncomfortable." He's sincere and means every word. To him, this is like signing a contract. He's the God of Contracts, so this is especially important to him. What he says is solid as stone—his dedication to prove that is clear as day.

This man is also very keen—he sees how you look like a touch-starved cat when you want affection, but are too scared to approach and ask. It kind of breaks him, but he doesn't show it because he wants to prove that he's not helping out of pity, but understanding.

In the end, Zhongli will probably be able to be near you, and get in a few (with consent) head peats that you are very well aware of. It's going to take time for you to warm up to him before this guy gets to hug you.

Diluc

This guy probably understands your intense cat-staring the most. He sometimes feels like that after his father passed. He's very unsure and awkward of what to do, if I'm being honest.

After a little while, of course, Diluc feels like he should place the offer out. He feels too awkward and guilty for just noticing you like this and not doing anything about it.

"Your Grace...I hope I'm not crossing any boundaries, but please know that I am willing to offer you any assistance you need." It's only later does he realize you wanted hugs and were too scared to ask for it.

Yeah...he's not exactly that open with his emotions either, so it will definitely be awkward, but he is willing to give it a few tries. Diluc will also be the first to pull back and apologize if he realizes you are in any discomfort.

To say it took a while is only putting it in the simplest form.

Alhaitham

Oho...if you though Diluc was awkward, consider this man. He's more "thinking machine that feels" than like his roommate ("feeling machine that thinks"), so he definitely does not understand the "social cue" that is your cat-stare.

He has done research (aka read books way back in the days and remembered the contents) and understands the mental turmoil you've gone through, so he has gone through the steps of trying to get out of your way, and also try and link you to a therapist. This, of course, kind of fails.

"Your Grace...please get some therapy. It's beneficial for your mental health." Quite literally might drag Tighnari or someone else into this if he can't convince you. This is quite literally out of his expertise.

The entire "I want a hug" cue flies completely over his head, and had it not been for Kaveh (and/or Nahida), he probably wouldn't have realized his mistake.

...Yes, it took what felt like 3 eternities just for him to try and give you affection. Must I say anything else?

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: AND HERE WE ARE! Anon, I am so sorry for taking 30 years to do this, but I have finished it! Boy, I was so tired and stressed these days, but I'm kinda glad I finished this!

For anyone waiting for The Lost Shining God of Celestia Pt. 2, please have some patience—I currently do not have much motivation to work on that series. Instead, feel free to dump requests in my mailbox!

Also—feel free to dump any HSR requests into my mailbox! I want to give them a try :)

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[ecogirl2759]

THE MOMENT WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR!!!!

Here it is, guys!

The Kiyotaka Ishimaru Mastermind comic from 4コマ KINGS Vol. 4!

SPECIFICALLY CITING THIS SO THAT OTHERS KNOW WHERE TO FIND THIS COMIC!!!

Huge, HUUUUGE thanks to @panicuriprince!!! They helped me with clearing the text, rewording panels and putting everything together! Pages 4, 5, and 6 are her doing! PLEEEASE go send her some love, they REALLY helped me get this done and I literally couldn't have done this without her :D

There's a document below the break with more literal translations for the comic, as well as translation notes, a link to a Google Drive folder with ALL of the pages, and other interesting tidbits! Please give it a read!

The Japanese pages will also be below the break! (As well as a little spiel of mine. It's quite long, so be careful!)

(also please forgive how many tags there are here-)

Remember to read right to left <3

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As promised, here are the Japanese panels:

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AND HERE'S THE DOCUMENT!

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✨ WOW ✨

I can't begin to describe to you all how AMAZING this feels!

I've spent the past 2 years on what felt like a wild goose chase, desperately searching for this one comic that I wasn't even sure existed.

This all started with me finding a photo on Tumblr of this comic and spiraling into this deep dive. First I didn't know if this was even real, then I found out that this comic series had ceased printing, then I couldn't be sure which book it was actually in.

There is literally almost no information out there about the fourth volume of this anthology series. I've said this before and I'll say it again, volumes 1 and 2 both have full translations that you can download off of other websites, and while 3 doesn't seem to have that, there are a lot of separately translated comics floating around out there, namely on Pinterest.

The 4th volume had NOTHING! No matter how hard I searched or how many links I clicked, no one has really said ANYTHING about this book, which was why this specific comic was so hard for me to find.

But I have all of the books now, so I definitely want to do this again for all of them so that people have easy access to these translations. I'll start with book 4 though haha.

Also, I'm not sure who it was, but HUUUUGE thanks to the kind stranger on Ebay who was willing to sent me the whole series!! I literally don't know where I would be right now if these books weren't with me, so thank you <3

Also, thank you to all of my Japanese teachers that I've had throughout the years. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't have been able to understand the comic, haha! One even helped me out in the early stages of this process, so extra thanks to him <3

I feel really passionate about accessible media. I think that everyone should be able to read and find whatever they want. That's part of the reason that I've endeavored on this project. I want everyone to be able to seek out and find these comics if they really want to. And, of course, I want everyone to be able to understand them, too.

So please enjoy this comic! If you'd like to repost it, I'd appreciate being credited just so that others know where they can go to find the full comic.

This one-man project isn't so one-man anymore, and I seriously can't thank everyone who's helped me enough!!! I'm honestly so glad I didn't have to go through this alone <33

ALSO

If you see anything, LITERALLY ANYTHING, that you think I could change/improve (like formatting or different interpretations of the Japanese text), PLEASE shoot me a message!! I want to make sure this comic is as good as it can be, and I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Even if you don't have a suggestion and would just like to reach out to ask a question or something, PLEASE don't be afraid to do that! I know I get really cold feet when sending people asks, so I'm going to reassure everyone who needs to hear it now: You're never going to be a bother to me! I love getting asks! Whenever anyone sends me something, I get really excited <3

So ask questions! Tell me I did a horrible job and got none of the text right! Ask why Ishimaru literally cannot be evil! I don't know the answer, either!

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Thank you all so much for the support and the kind words you've been giving me ever since I first announced I was translating this comic! Your support has been extremely motivating to me! Also, you guys are hilarious with your tags!

Seriously, thank you so much! Words literally can't express how I feel right now, but I guess the best way I could describe it is cathartic. I'm REALLY happy that I finally get to share 2 years worth of work with you guys! You've all been a massive help to me in more ways than one <333

KEEP BEING AWESOME <3

[iouinotes]

Heroic Betrayal | Luke Castellan (part 1)

SPOILER FOR THE PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS SERIES AND THE BOOKS

pairing: Luke Castellan x female!reader

show: Percy Jackson and the Olympians

warnings: dark!character, betrayal, implied sexual content, heavy angst, kidnapping

word count: 5,8k

summary: When Luke switches to the dark side, he tries everything possible to win you for him.

a/n: so as the show comes to an end (dont cry dont cry dont cry), I thought I would finally post this :)))

read part 2 here

"I'll find you!" his voice echoes through the forest, my laughter much louder than I intend to. But that´s just how it always goes. It's our own little tradition.

Every year when the camp starts again and we meet after the holidays passed, we play hide and seek in the dangerous forest of the half-blood camp. The creatures usually don't come across our path, in recent years it has rarely happened, that we actually had to defend ourselves against them.

Once it was an angry dryad, who threw branches at me (she had a crush on Luke and wanted revenge, but since I could understand her feelings and felt sad for her, we sorted it out).

Another time we were spotted by some camp members, who made fun of us, but Luke must have said something to them later, because we haven't been bothered by these troublemakers since.

It is always the same pattern, but each time there is still something special about it. We have grown, became more mature (I think), and have more and more experience about the struggles in life.

So being able to just let go for a few moments and being completely alone with him is probably the best thing to keep myself sane (even if he drives me a little bit crazy with the love I hold for him).

But a lot has changed recently.

It all started when rumors spread, that Zeus' lightning bolt had been stolen by Poseidon's son. And then the most supportive, bravest, sassy kid in the world showed up here. Percy Jackson. Ever since I met him, even though it's not his fault, there's been war going on. The gods are angry, the monster attacks became worse and again, rumors about the oldest, most powerful titan Kronos reached the camp.

It scared and frightened many people, including me. That's why we've been training harder and stay awake, even when the stars are shining, so that we can prepare for any catastrophe. To be able to fight.

My mother is the goddess Demeter, my father a simple man. I adore them both, even though my mother isn't one of my closest contacts. But I never really held that against her, because at least she decided to acknowledge me as her daughter. After all, it's a privilege that not everyone gets. My siblings and friends at camp are important to me, but the world is changing and so is everything around it.

The only stability I have left is my boyfriend Luke.

If I had to rely on one person in the whole world (and by that I also mean the underworld), it would be him.

He's been my best friend since I arrived at this camp. We've been together through ups and downs, I know every side of him and he knows everything about me too. Many of the people here are like blank pages to me, but not him. He is like my favorite book, that lays open to me and allows me to read each letter individually. Just as I know every of his dreams, every secret, every truth and every lie. He is my protector, my hero in every dark night and every bright day. Without him, I don't even know who I am. He is a part of me and my heart wouldn't be whole without him.

I watched him grow up. From the small, thin boy whose eyes hid so much pain and sadness to the strong, soulful leader he is today.

His beauty cannot be influenced by anything, he is like my very own sun, without him I could not survive.

I wouldn't want it any other way though.

Now, I'm hiding behind a tree with my back pressed against the bark and I am able to hear the cracking and swinging of the branches.

I smile so wide, that my cheeks start to hurt, when I hear his voice calling. My heart is beating in my throat, but it's not just the adrenaline of not getting caught. It's because of my love for him, which is so strong that sometimes I'm afraid of it. But only in the moments when I realize that nothing, but him is my biggest flaw. I think I would do anything for him.

Then I concentrate again and listen to the sounds around me. But his voice has fallen silent and I don't hear his footsteps anymore.

My eyebrows furrow, confused I try to look around the tree and search for an orange t-shirt. Likely together with his slim body, biceps, beautiful face and wonderful personality.

But when I want to withdraw again, it's already too late. A branch breaks behind me and before I can move I'm pushed against the tree from behind.

I immediately feel his body against mine, hear the laughter in his voice and listen to his strained breathing. His hands wrap around my body and turn me towards him, so that we are now face to face.

He's taller than me and as I look up, I feel the familiar fluttering feeling in my chest. I am so in love with him.

He grins triumphantly at me and I lean against the tree, smiling kindly.

"Found you, princess." The light reflects in his brown eyes and some of his curls are laying wildly on his head. He looks like an angel.

"I made it easy for you." My voice teases him and when he leans in so close to me, that our lips almost touch, I forget how to think properly. A habit I can't change. He's just so captivating.

"Yeah? You think I wouldn't have found you otherwise? Funny. I remember that in the last few years, I always was the winner of our little game." His lips brush mine, I want nothing more than to kiss him. But he knows that, which is why he slowly pulls back, when I start to lean forward.

When I want to complain, he puts his hand around my waist and pulls me into his chest. My knees almost give out, I feel so intoxicated by his presence.

"I-I wanted you to find me." My voice whispers quietly.

His eyebrows rise in mock surprise.

"Then I guess, I can claim my prize without feeling bad." In the next second, his lips are on mine and I'm unable to do anything, other than kissing him back. I wrap my arms around his neck and enjoy the warmth that radiates from him. He sets my heart on fire.

While pushing me against the tree, I've completely forgotten about, he lets his hands wrap possessively around my waist. Digging his nails into my hips, to keep me grounded. Otherwise, I would probably get lost in those sensations.

Luke kisses in a way, like it's the last time he'll have the chance. (As if I would ever want to keep him from doing that).

He's passionate, my body feels like it's on fire and the heat inside me feels so good, that I want more. I can never get enough of him and he knows it. He grins against my lips, but he doesn't break the kiss. I think he secretely loves knowing how much he can mess with me, with just a few kisses.

My hands find his hair and pull him closer to me, our chests touch and his breathing mingles with mine.

It is wonderful and so precious, I would refuse any gift from the gods just to be close to him.

When he pulls away from me, our bodies are still close. My eyes open and look dreamily into his, our gazes reflect a familiarity and love that is like nothing I have ever experienced.

He smiles at me, pushes a stray strand of hair behind my ear and leans himself against me. His fingers stroke the exposed skin of my pulled-up shirt.

"I've missed you." If my heart hasn't melted before, it has now. I give him a kiss on the cheek and hug him, we stand in our embrace for a moment. Enjoying each other's closeness, the calm feeling until the next chaotic situation happens.

"Now we are together again. Only that matters." It's quiet around us and when I close my eyes for the second time, I hear his fast heartbeat. I have to supress a smile.

The wind is the only thing I hear until his voice breaks the silence.

"Something will happen soon. Something big." The peaceful atmosphere is threatened by his words and when I look at his face again, I see his worried eyes.

I sigh, but then nod to agree with him. "I thought about that too, it feels different. Like something is coming our way, that we can't control."

His fingers stroke my cheek and for a moment, his face holds an expression, that I can't understand. It resembles regret.

But before I can ask him about it, he smiles tenderly at me again.

"Nothing will separate us. The world is just a game. It's a matter of time and making the right moves." That is his motto. But I'm not always convinced of this. Even though I trust him to do the right thing.

"I'm just worried we'll get seperated, you know? Evil can be sneaky and traitors always exist. You never know who you can trust." Something I said must have really bothered him, because he looks like I just stabbed him.

This time I ask him about it.

"What's on your mind? You can tell me. Two people who worry about something are better, than one who is alone with it." I take his hand and stroke his skin, it feels cold even though we have summer.

"Nothing, just- I don't want to lose you. I couldn't be here without you. I need you. I mean...I-I love you. You know that I would do anything to keep us together, right?"

His words surprise me. I know he loves me. I can sense that, everyone probably does. But he has never worn his heart on his sleeve and the three magical words only come out of his mouth on special occasions. The fact that he's telling me now surprises me.

"Of course. I trust you. We will survive together, I know that. Are you worried because of the rumors about the Titan King?" This topic is always very critical and he usually doesn't like to talk about it, but this time I decide to address it directly.

"He will come. I just want you to be safe, when it happens." He sounds so confident it gives me goosebumps.

"Perhaps. His followers will definitely try. But love is stronger than anything else. Especially our love. We will get through it." He doesn't look convinced, so I turn his face towards mine and kiss him.

My voice sounds soft, when I speak again.

"Luke, I love you. I could never leave you. Not even the King of the Underworld will be able to keep us apart. I promised to be by your side in every moment of our lives. You are my soul and without it I am damned."

This seems to reassure him, but I feel like he's not telling me something of great importance. But I don't want to push him, I know he will tell me when the time comes.

He always does.

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

As the day comes to an end, I say goodnight to my siblings and report for my night watch duty. The situation has been a lot more worse the recent weeks. Kronos exists, my worst fear was confirmed. And he is building an army, that is so strong that it will be difficult to fight against it. But what I'm really worried about are the rumors about our people, who have also joined his cause.

Nobody knows who, the spies have been hiding ever since. I've never felt like I was paying more attention to my words than I am now. The only person I don't have to hold back to is Luke.

But even with him I notice the effects of the bad news. The circles under his eyes are darker than ever and his nerves are so frayed, that every little thing makes him want to explode. His temper is hanging by a thread, that is increasingly threatening to break. And I'm trying everything to prevent this.

No matter if I try it by making him laugh (which has become difficult), massaging his tense shoulders, trying to kiss him to the point of forgetfulness (usually it's the other way around) or when he takes out his frustration by burying himself deep inside me. With every thrust of his hips, I feel him relax, his hand so tight around my body as if I would run away, if he didn't hold me close enough.

He's changing and I'm trying my best to maintain his good sides. That he doesn't completely lose himself in his responsibilities and the pressure, that he has, because he is a member of the camp council.

Besides, I can't complain, when he fucks me until I can't breathe aynmore and I block out everything around me. When he comes, he whispers the sweetest things in my ear. Even if sometimes they sound so protective, that I could almost come from his voice alone.

When he whispers to me how good I am for him or how much he loves being able to have such a power over me like that - maybe it should scare me, but I trust him like no one else.

My mind concentrated his best for my shift, but when I finally go to bed after quiet some time, my eyes quickly close.

Looking back, I wish I had never let myself sleep that night.

Because, when I close my eyes I see waves. Hear the seagulls screaming in the sky, the fish swimming in the water and the distant cries of strangers.

It's all unusual and the bright light would blind me, if I didn't avert my gaze. And as soon as I do it, I see a ship. It's huge, rust shimmers in the sunrays, the anchor shows that it's been in the same place for a while now.

I feel something pulling me towards it, pushing and burning in my chest, leaving me with a tremor that I can feel, even in my deep sleep.

As I flit through the window like a ghost, I feel paralyzed. My blood freezes, I want to disappear immediately and in my mind I scream at myself to wake up.

But it's no use, whatever is here, someone decided that I have to see it. Only then, my wish will be fulfilled and I can wake up. So, I hide in a corner, there are scratched picture frames above me and broken glass is scattered on the floor. The monsters that loudly crush the glass ahead of me seem unstoppable.

I tremble as I look at at least seven dracaenae, several shaggy hellhounds and set my eyes on gigantes, that take up almost the entire room.

But that is nothing compared to the terror, that grips me when I see my classmates. My friends. People I trusted, who I fought alongside, for who I cared about. People I would have sacrificed myself for. They all betrayed me. And I feel close to tears. When I want to turn away, I hear a voice that almost brings me to my knees.

It's Luke.

My faithful and caring protector, my heroic love. Someone, to which I had dedicated everything. He was my life, with every single breath I took. The motivation behind my every action. The reason I wanted to survive in this cruel world. He was everything I had and everything I will ever have and in that moment it was abruptly taken from me.

I didn't have the strength to concentrate, it was as if every fiber of my body was on fire, triggered by the torment of my suffering heart. Seeing him like that, in black armor, Kronos' silver mark glittering around his neck, instead of his colorful necklace. A stoic, hostile expression on his face, his hands gripping his sword, it all hurt too much to watch.

And as I sank to the floor and covered my eyes with my hands, I was still forced to listen. I couldn't understand why he was saying such things.

"With every day he becomes stronger, with every participation in our army, we become stronger. Everything is planned, the camp is weak. Just like all of its residents. The surprise is on our side, because we will show no mercy. We will kill anyone, who does not confess to us. Do you hear me? No hostages will be taken. Only Hades population will be expanded."

The screams around me are so loud, so angry and horrific that I feel tears running down my cheeks.

I don't want to see any of that. The person infront of me is not my Luke.

A kind of fog creeps around me and I feel cold, it seems too late to forget it now. When I notice the golden coffin and Lukes hunched posture, the scar on the side of his face, I realize he is praying to him.

To the fall of Olympus. Kronos.

I want to cry, to scream, to be angry - but I just feel like every part of my heart is breaking and will never be whole again. Luke will never again be the one to heal it.

My consciousness leaves the ship until I finally wake up, but I can't move at first. I feel lost, my muscles are stiff and after a few seconds I notice that I'm shaking. But it's not because I'm cold, the summer air is wafting in the air.

Such dreams are rare, but are like the own scary predictions of the future.

And then it comes all back so me, the memories, that have just turned my whole life upside down. Traitor. The word appears in my mind, I feel like I almost can't breathe. And then there is a finger on my cheek, gently stroking the skin and my chest immediately becomes warm.

I know this gesture.

When I open my eyes, I see his loving eyes and the smile that covers his mouth makes my heart clench in sorrow.

It was just a nightmare. Luke would never betray me.

But the whispers in my head say otherwise.

As we continue to look at each other in silent, I notice his furrowed eyebrows.

"What's wrong, my love? Did you have a nightmare? You look scared. Don't be afraid, I'm here. I will always protect you." His voice is so calm, so usual loving and it makes the butterflies in my stomach fly around like crazy.

He is so beautiful.

As he briefly turns his head to tighten the blanket around me, I see his side profile and the scar. Reminders of my dream crash onto me like a lightning strike from Zeus himself.

I sat up abruptly. Luke is a servant of our enemy. How could I ignore that? I feel like I'm almost starting to hyperventilate. The thought, this nightmare, Luke's appearance, this evil feeling - it makes me sick. And I'm suddenly so afraid, more than I have ever been in my life. But I can't tell if it's the fact that I just found out he joined Cronos' army or that he broke my heart doing so.

I see him tense, my panic seems to be affecting him too.

My thoughts are so confusing, I don't know what to do, I have to tell someone. I have to-

His hands find their way to my cheeks, cupping them gently to direct his gaze towards himself. I would have preferred not to look at him, but I have no choice. His eyes search mine.

Then, as if the weight of Atlas punishment was put on his shoulders, he lowers them. His lips tremble slightly and his eyes look at me, as if I am the most valuable thing in the world and he is about to lose it.

"You know it." He doesn't have to say what he means by that. We both know.

I want to break away from him, but he won't let me. He's always been much stronger.

But everything still feels so different, light surrounds us and I can't really feel my body.

"Listen to me, please. I can explain it. Please-" The world goes silent, before he can finish his sentence.

It is too much.

I stifle a scream. I want to jump out of bed, but his hands hold me close. I only manage to fall to the ground, breathing heavily, but his arms are much stronger and I'm still weakened by my dream. He trys to hold me in a position, so that his back hugs me. His hands grab mine and one of them covers my mouth to silence me, when I want to scream for help.

With any other person, I would have known what to do. With anyone but him, I could have defended myself without any problems. But it wasn't just anyone and what he had done to me, the betrayal he had committed, was nothing I could handle.

I tried to wriggle out of his grip, to kick him, but the more I cried and the more hysterical I became, the easier it was for him to have control over me.

And for the first time, it scared me.

"Please calm down, I have to explain it to you- you have to know, that I never wanted to deceive you, please-" I notice how his voice is failing and he has to pull himself together, to not to lose his composure.

When I shake his hand away and want to yell again, he grabs my neck with such a warning force, that no sound escapes me.

I tremble in his hold. Tears stream down my cheeks and I literally feel my heart breaking.

Then he starts whispering in my ear and his grip feels like a tragic prison.

"Nobody can know. I never wanted you to find out. Not until I convinced you, that it is the right thing to join him. Because he will win, sweetheart. I want us to win by his side." His voice sounds so confident and at the same time, as if he was a completely different person.

Tears continue running down my face and he slightly let's go of me, so he can comfort me.

"If you would just listen to me, you will understand my actions. Please, just listen to me-" but the world blurs infront of my eyes and I am only able to whisper three words, before darkness surrounds me.

"You betrayed me."

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

When I wake up, my head hurts so much, that it takes me several minutes to open my eyes. When I finally do it, I almost have a heart attack.

I recognize the similarity of this room from my dream. When I stand up, I run to the round window and look out, being only able to see the blue sea. Feeling empty and alone.

When I want to step out the door, I expect it to be locked. But instead the handle turns and I step out of the room. I'm so surprised about that, that I'm acting without thinking twice.

As I walk around the next corner, the deck creaks and I see an ugly creature in front of me, that makes every instinct to escape kick in.

I run in the other direction, but every turn makes me more desperate and, without any consideration, I run into the hall, I was so afraid of.

It is filled with all kinds of ciders, and I also see the figures of my classmates, wounded and unhappy.

It's all so overwhelming, that I dont even see him standing on the podium, in the first place.

But as the monsters try to grab me, his voice echoes through the room with an affable authority.

"Nobody touches her. You hear me? Nobody. She is under my protection." I almost freeze into a stature, as he comes towards me and I have no way of avoiding him. No weapon is within my reach, his eyes notice my growing panic.

"Everyone leaves the room. Now." Nobody discusses it, even if some roll their eyes or quietly protest. His authority is unquestioned, it sends a cold shiver down my spine.

When the last doors slam shut, we stand a few meters opposite each other.

"The doors are guarded." It's the first thing he says.

When he tries to approach me, I lose my nerves and run to the corner with the broken glass, that I saw in my dream. I take them in my hands.

I see his eyes widen and he stops in his tracks.

"You- you want to fight me?" He actually sounds surprised and sad. Like I was the one who betrayed him and not the other way around.

"Don't come any closer. I may not have been able to do anything last time, but if you take one step closer then-" I don't know what to say. In no scenario did I ever think, I would have to threaten him.

But despite my warning, he comes towards me with his hands raised, the panic within me so palpable, that I can feel every muscle in my body.

I dodge, when he is only a few meters in front of me. Right into the next corner. As far away from him as possible.

"Princess, you can't keep me away forever. I've always loved that about you. You need me as much as you need to breathe."

It's supposed to sound sweet, but his words make me feel sick

"I'd rather suffocate." He didn't expect that. My words hit him so unexpectedly that he is almost speechless. Almost.

"I won't hurt you. You just have to let me get to you and I'll show you everything. You will understand, believe me." He really thinks, I'll just stay by his side and let him explain.

"Are you crazy? You're a traitor, Luke. You- you betrayed everyone. You betrayed me. How could you do this?" I suppress my tears, because that's exactly what he's waiting for. That my defense becomes weaker. I can't allow this.

"You dont understand. I always told you I would protect you. And I can only do that, if I'm on the winning side. And I am now. We are." His eyes flash with a craziness that makes me tremble. I don't recognize him.

"Why are you acting this way? You are doing the wrong thing - you give up everything. You're giving up on us." Tears leave my eyes and I see him take a few steps in my direction.

"I'm doing the right thing for us. You'll see. You just have to trust me, please. You know I always win. With the power he gives me, I will be invincible. You don't have to worry about one of us dying in this war anymore." I can't move, even if I wanted to, I wouldn't have a way out now. He's too close.

"You are wrong. I would rather die in this war than join this monster and his deceitful army." The shards in my hand hurt, but I don't let them go. They're the only thing I can use to defend myself.

"You would leave me?" His eyes are staring into my soul.

"Would you fight me?" Every word is more intimidating.

"Would you stop loving me?" His words are like his own shards, leaving deep wounds in my heart.

He's standing right in front of me now, looking at me like I'm fragile.

Then he whispers "Would you kill me?"

In the next second, he suddenly has my hands in his, making me drop the glass. Be is only a few centimeters away from me now, his eyes are looking into my own.

"Would you, princess? Then show me." Suddenly he does something, I would have never expected. He takes out his sword and puts it in my hands.

His own hands go behind his back, his eyes tempting me. I feel all the blood in my body drain.

"Do it. I can't live in a world, where you don't love me anymore. In which you are no longer by my side. I am yours. That will never change, just like my love for you."

I can barely hold the sword, it's so wobbly in my hands. He stands in front of me and gives me every chance to defeat him. But I can't move.

It's quiet for a moment, then I see new hope in his eyes and when he speaks again, the tone of his voice melts my heart.

"What did you say a few months ago, you would always let me win? Let's win together this time. Please, just listen to me." His hand strokes my cheek. Wipes away the tears.

Then he drops his hand and grasps his sword, letting it fall to the ground.

He takes my hand instead.

"Follow me." He pulls me behind him, closer and closer to the golden coffin, it's like I'm in a trance, but when I finally feel the cold aura of something cruel, I'm able to think clearly again.

"No-" I don't want to be one step closer to this thing.

He turns around so quickly, that I can only slap his cheek, before he grabs me again.

"That was for kidnapping me. Let me go now!" I want to avoid his grasp. But again he does something I don't expect.

He holds me still, catches my gaze and then, kisses me so gently that the feeling alone makes me almost completely defenseless. His hands cup my cheeks, grip my hair, hold my body.

This is probably his worst trick. I've never been able to resist one of his kisses. And he knows that. He uses it against me.

Then he murmurs words against my lips, that barely reach my ears.

My heart is pounding in my throat.

"You feel this? We belong together. It is not written anywhere on which side we need to be. As long as we are together." His fingers stroke my lower lip, his figure towers over me and for a moment my surroundings fade. It's almost like always.

But he's not wearing his orange t-shirt, his expression isn't relaxed, and I don't hear any insults from the camp members in the distance.

"You're manipulating me." I am powerless against him. I thought we were on the same team, that no one had more power over the other one. But I was so wrong.

His eyebrows furrow again, and when his hands try to pull me against him, I hit his chest, without thinking, with the only piece of glass I hid in my pocket. But unlike I expected, nothing happens. The shard bounces off his skin and falls loudly to the ground. I can only stare at him in disbelief.

"How-" He just looks at me worried, no anger is visible in his eyes.

"You can't hurt me. I have the curse of Achilles upon me." I suddenly become aware of the effect the lake Styx in the underworld hast and I almost fall to the ground at the realization, my knees weaken.

"That was a test earlier. You wanted to see if I would kill you-" my voice fails.

He just looks at me sadly and smiles in regret. My heart becomes heavy.

"And I knew you wouldn't hurt me on purpose. You would never hurt someone you love. Not if you'd kill me in the process." What can I do? He knows me better than anyone, he can see right through my every thought.

"I can't do this, Luke. I-I can't be together with you, if you are like this." I'm serious, but he doesn't believe me.

"That's what you think, but it's a lie. The sooner you admit it to yourself, the more pain you avoid. Our souls are linked together, without me you are not able to live. I know, that you will continue to love me, no matter what I decide to do. That's how much you love me. You would rather die than not loving me."

I can't listen to him. I can't.

But his eyes are like all the promises in the world. He is my world. How could I ever forget that?

"Please come back with me, Luke. I-I won't tell anyone, but please. Let's go, let's forget everything, please-" I cant deal with this anymore. It's like he's draining all the energy out of me. More with every word, that leaves his lips.

"I can not do that. It will stay the way it is now. Don't fight against me, fight with me. You are so smart and loyal, you will be convinced. He will show you." His eyes now flash with something that frightens me. I see his hunger for power, something that has always been dormant within him.

"Luke, the only thing I ever really wanted was you. No power, no war, no prosperity. Only you. But I'm about to lose you. Don´t do this to me, I beg you." My hands find his face, stroke the skin and I look into his eyes. But they are no longer the same ones I fell in love with.

I never thought he would love having power more than he loves me. It breaks my heart.

"I have decided. Nothing will change about that. Not even your pleadings. I'm sorry." His eyes reflect my desperation.

"What's holding you back? All you need is me." He says it so confident, that I almost wonder, why I don´t agree with him.

But my conscience has always been my greatest strength.

"I won't betray them. I couldn't live with myself, if I did." He takes a step back.

"But you could live without me? You would rather be by Jackson's side than mine?" His words hurt me. But he speaks the truth.

"I love you Luke, more than I ever thought was possible. But just as you put power before me, I put loyalty first. And I'm not sorry about that."

Frustration finally seeps through his perfect facade. I wonder how long he's been playing with me. The thought of it makes everything inside me tighten.

"I am not letting you go. Our fate is set. You will recognize it too and when that happens, you will be on my side."

His conviction frightens me, but this time it doesn't freeze me into a statue. Now, I'm running away.

And luckely, he didn't expect that.

For a few minutes now I've noticed one of the windows, that doesn't look very stable. I just have to jump against it to open it.

"NO!" Luke's voice echoes across the room, loud and warning, but it doesn't stop me. Before he can catch up with me, I jump towards the window, my shoulder hurts, but I was right, it breaks.

But I didn't think about the height difference and I realize it might be too late to do something about it now.

As I try to hold on to the wall outside, two thoughts repeat in my mind.

Either I die or I'm trapped.

Then I hear Luke's voice. He sounds desperate and at the same time angry, like I have never heard him before.

The wall is slippery and it takes every bit of strength in me not to fall, I know it would be my death. I hold on to the broken wall.

"She is outside. Get her back, NOW!" My muscles hurt and I don't know what to do. Then I hear the loud beating of wings. Before I can see who it is, I hear Percy's quiet voice. I feel like crying.

"Drop down, I've got you." I have to trust him. So, I let myself fall without thinking.

Then I feel myself landing on something soft, I hold on to it and my knuckles turn white.

The screams and shouts of the monsters make me tremble, I just want to get out of here. Even if it means, that I perhaps will never see Luke again.

"Come on, now. They'll be here soon." As the wings of the Pegasus move towards the sky, towards freedom, I let the tears fall. The wind is beating around my ears and I can only see in the corner of my eyes that we are getting closer to the clouds.

"I'll find you!"

Luke's threatening voice is the last thing I remember as I close my eyes from the grief of leaving him.

[reyreadersblog]

ALRIGHT Y'ALL MADE ME DO IT!!!

My unpopular tig/tgg opinions!!

FIRST!

These are MY opinions and i'm allowed to have my own thoughts on certian things, just as you are, okay..? Just wanna..get this out of way, i know everyone is respectful in this fandombut still.

1. this is something that should NOT be an upopular opinion. AVERY IS THE MAIN CHARACTER FOR A REASON. okay? She is a girlboss, and she needs more appretiation, cus literally search up tig on tt rn. Everybody and their cat named Stewie is talking about Grayson and Jameson? WHAT ABOUT MY MG AVERY? And if you see any post about her, it's probably a hate vid about how Avery should've kept the money...SHUT UP. Read what she said carefully..."no one deserves that kind of power.." and then think about it deeply.

2. I DO NOT WANT TIG TO TURN INTO A TV SERIES (or even a movie). i can't name all the reasons 'cus then the the list would be endless. First of all, i know, I JUST KNOW, they'll choose the worst cast ever. And even if they find the most accurate cast for the Hawthorne brother i will still be dissapointed, because the images of them i have in my head...THEY'LL NEVER TOP EM. second of all, they will leave out important moments, just as simple as it sounds, and trust me they will, just like they do with most of the live adaptations of books. Third of all, SHIP WARS!!! I phisically can't with ship war, like I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF EM IN THE PAST WHEN THE BOOKS WERE STILL COMING OUT. And just the thought of Averygrayson shipper saying "yeah Avery and jameson were endgame in the books but they might change it in the movie..." GIVES ME NIGHTMARES. and overall, not everything needs a live adaptation yk? sometimes things just have to stay the way they are.

3. ...this is a bit contrevertial.and i don't want to sound like a hater since i've said this a multiple times before but Rohan's pov was my least favourite in the grandest games. Purely bcs whatever Savannah and Rohan had going on...don't get me wrong, i like Savannah (even tho she did and said some fucked up things) and Rohan, SEPERATLY. But them being together...idk man, they were too..."booktokish" for my liking, yk? and i do love banter and teasing, but they were like basic "i like you but i like winning more" "couple". Not to mention they were so random...like where did they come from? I remember when we first saw Sav and Rohan having the same symbols on their cards i was very excited, i expected a different dynamic between them...PLUS THE WHOLE GAME THEY JUST WANTED TO FUCK💀

4. Hating Alisa Ortega and loving Grayson Hawthorne is CRAZYYY, and i'm saying this bcs they're pretty similar in different ways. And the thing is people are mad at Alisa for "saying mean words to Libby" (she was literally doing her job, you would understand if you were at her place) MEANWHILE GRAYSON LITERALLY THREATENED A HEIRESS! (sayin this as a Gray stan) *sigh* y'all are something else🤦🏻‍♀️.

5. Ohh...this one is risky...BUT CAN Y'ALL STOP ACTING LIKE JAMESON IS BLAMELESS?? all i see is Grayson slander, AND I UNDERSTAND, he fucked up, but saying "Jameson was so much better than Grayson" is a lie, at least for me. (He was better for Avery tho) he fs made mistakes that fandoms chooses to ignore. Like lets not act like treating Avery like a toy wasn't wrong. Lets not act like him blaming Grayson for everything wasn't wrong. Let's not act like him reminding Grayson of Emily's death wasn't wrong. And i know that later on both him and Grayson had a great character development, but still, i've never seen anyone talk about this.

6. This isn't about tig. But LIKING JLBS WORK AND BEING HER FAN DOESN'T MEAN YOU'RE GLAZING HER💀 (talking about an argument i had a while ago...) like is it so hard for your brain to understand that it's called having an opinion. Idc if it's JLB or any other author, okay? Like i've read almost every Jlb's books and i love them, AND i also publicly talk about how much iblove her work, does that mean i'm glazing her? UHM NO WTF💀.

7. LET. PEOPLE. HAVE. PREFRENCE. (I'm talking about ships btw) . Someone prefers LyraGray over Averyjameson, and that's okay. Someone loves Averyjameson the most, and that's also okay, someone likes Libbynash more then Xandermax, AND THAT IS ALSO OKAY.

I'll probably do part 2, i have more to say i'm just really tired rn.

Also it's not proof read so sorry if there are many mistakes.

[temis-de-leon]

Replaced MC AU/AU - V.3 - P.2

Characters: demon brothers (briefly), male!MC x Sebas (oc)

Main Masterlist

Replaced MC AU/AU Masterlist (check the other versions and learn more about the NESs!)

Intro (gn!reader) , Part 1

Anon: Heya! Is there gonna be a continuation for the NES series? Drink lots of water and eat enough! Stay safe and don't overwork yourself! Don't force yourself to write if you don't want! Love youu ❤

@big-brother-problems : Omg I just read your replaced au for male! Mc and crushing male! NES, and it was super cute, I loved it so much😭 I was wondering if you could do a continuation where male! Mc is fed up, like with the other parts of the AU series. I just want to see Mc whipped for NES cause, honestly, I was giggling and kicking my feet in the air.

A/N: this is not the whole thing, I just wanted to post something for you.

CW: MC is sick and there's some description of pain, but nothing graphic

.

A bang woke MC up. He tried to get up, sit at least, but a pounding headache pushed his eyeballs forward and raised bile up his mouth, causing him to let out an animalistic groan full of pain and discomfort. Immediately after, a hand softly made him lay down again and it wasn’t until his head touched the pillow that he realized it was Sebas’s.

A faint light came from above, from the branches of the tree inside their room, and allowed him to see the boy and his tired expression. He was whispering something with worry in his eyes, but MC couldn’t understand his words. His ears felt full of cotton. He tried to lift his hand to touch him, make sure the image of Sebas was real and not a fragment of his dreams, but his strength failed him at the last moment. MC could only watch in half consciousness as it dropped to his side like a dead weight.

Another crash interrupted the silence and he winced at the noise, the frown making his headache worse and pushing Sebas to shush and cradle his face. A new voice, a deeper one, chanted unknown words.

MC barely saw Belphie’s face before passing out.

.

The next time he opened his eyes, there was nothing but darkness surrounding him. He felt his body drenched in sweat, staining the sheets, and a wet towel on his forehead counteracting his increasing body temperature. The droplets fell down his temples like tears, but they weren’t cold anymore.

How much time had passed since whoever put the rag on him left? He wasn’t alone, was he? MC tried to look around, an unusual sense of panic sending his heart to a frenzy; he tried to blink to moisture his irritated eyes and swallow to clear his throat, but he couldn’t do any of those things. His neck was stiff, either from lack of movement or muscle pain, and when he opened his mouth to call for help only a cough came out.

A bulge in the other side of the bed rustled and hurried to free itself from the blankets. A gasp, then a sigh, a whispered complaint about the heat before a sugary breath, like blueberry candy, leaned over MC to check on him.

“You need water” said Sebas.

Unable to say no and terrified of the idea of being left alone, MC quickly moved his arm and threw it over his boyfriend’s neck, the sudden force tiring him more than he would’ve ever imagined. They both let out a muffled groan when their chests collapsed with each other’s and MC felt like there was no air left on his body, but the weight on top of him was nice and familiar and it appeased him just enough.

“Hey, you’re strong”

Sebas chuckled, his words dying in the crook of MC’s neck and heart violently pounding at growing speed. Although still tired and with rigid muscles, the boy’s bashfulness made MC sigh in contentment, hug him stronger and kiss his head. To his surprise, Sebas’s hair wasn’t as fluffy as it usually was. He dragged one of his hands across the other’s back to gently ruffle it, but it remained flat.

“It’s dirty… Didn’t have time to wash it”

He didn’t know he was such an open book; or maybe Sebas just knew him that well. Whichever the reason was, MC was thankful for it, because he wasn’t sure his voice worked at all.

But what did he mean with that? How long had it been since he got sick?

An instant thought crossed his mind, the possibility of passing the fever to Sebas making him gasp and immediately have a constant painful cough that pushed him forward and left his throat raw. The aggressive spasms gave him the momentum to sit down and the forgotten wet towel fell on his lap.

“Let me go get some water?” Sebas pleaded and MC didn’t have any other option than reluctantly agree.

Christ, was he selfish.

Even alone, thankfully, he could still hear his boyfriend’s footsteps quickly running to the kitchen. The lights turned on, illuminating the hallway, and, if it weren’t for the shadow entering the room, the sound of Sebas hurrying the faucet to go faster would’ve been much funnier to MC.

His tall and slim silhouette didn’t give Lucifer an opportunity to be mysterious. The fur on his shoulders and the curled strand of hair over his forehead were also a dead giveaway, just as the feathered wings behind his back and the horns crowning his head. His eyes glowed red too, like pupils in bad quality photos.

 “I can see you” he said in a whisper, deep voice soothing MC more than he’d like to admit. “Would you like me to turn on the lights?”

They looked at each other for a couple of seconds and no noise came to his rescue. How long could Sebas take getting a glass of water? In the end, he couldn’t do more than nod in silent discomfort. His body felt stuffed and rigid, bloated yet empty. The towel was soaking his already drenched shirt and, on top of that, he didn’t want to deal with Lucifer at the moment.

Still, when the candles in the tree lighted up, the only thing he did was nod again, this time in gratitude. The demon nodded back and, after a few silent seconds, turned around and went straight to the dresser, sighing in annoyance and disapproval as he avoided discarded clothes, books and papers, all of them Sebas’s possessions.

MC watched as Lucifer opened and closed drawers, checking the contents and mumbling to himself in a tone that MC couldn’t decipher. He watched as his former friend chose a clean set of pyjamas, gave it to him and grabbed the towel before heading to the bathroom, no doubt giving him privacy to change.

His eyes barely hurt from the lighting anymore, but he almost wished he’d stayed in the dark.

The bed was a disaster, sheets and duvet out of the corners of the mattress and part of the pillow on the floor, along all of the cushions and the blankets. Two of the wooden chairs were in the middle of the room facing each other with a small table between them, a couple of empty plastic wrappers and a deck of cards on top of it.

There was also a plastic bowl on the floor by the side of the bed and MC didn’t even want to think about why it was there. Ignoring everything, especially the pain and the nausea, he slowly took off his clothes and put on the clean ones, relief immediately claiming his body.

“Hey”

“Hm?”

“Hush”

Sebas walked on his tiptoes, wearing one of MC’s shirts, some old tracksuit pants and only one sock. His hair was dirty, dishevelled, lips dry and cracked and eyes red from exhaustion. MC wondered if Sebas was already sick and he was just too far gone to notice.

“Wasn’t Lucifer here?” he asked in a soft voice while he helped MC drink, supporting the glass as he sipped.

“I am” said demon announced himself.

“JESUS”

“Lower your voice, Sebastián”

Lucifer stared at them in disapproval, but MC knew him enough to see how bad he wanted to laugh. Not at them, no, just laugh; more accurately, chuckle. The glint in his eyes and the subtle twitch in the corners of his mouth were proof enough. However, stubborn as he was, he stood with crossed arms forcing a stern expression.

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, honey” MC said with a raspy voice.

He wasn’t one to interrupt and much less to use nicknames, but they made Sebas blush, so he made sure to put some effort in using them.

“And thank you” he added, leaning over to kiss his cheek despite his own flustered expression before slowly drinking the remaining water.

They were both painfully aware of Lucifer’s presence, who watched intently as their hands found each other under a blanket and linked with obvious care. It was uncomfortable, like telling your relatives you had fun during your honeymoon.

Why wouldn’t he look away? Did he want to check if they acted like a couple? Should MC kiss Sebas on the mouth to prove it? But that would be extremely disrespectful to his boyfriend, wouldn’t it? And he was still sick. Although playing nurse in return of his care was a tempting idea, he didn’t want Sebas to have such an awful experience.

Just when he was about to beg the eldest brother to leave so he could go back to sleep, someone entered the room, crashing against the door with his whole body and hitting the bedside table in the process. All of them winced at the sound and MC let himself fall sideways, hiding his face amongst the bedsheets and covering his ear with Sebas’s hand, which he was still holding.

“MAMMOOOONNNN!!”

“Is MC okay?? I heard someone shout earlier!”

“Yeah, that would be me, but it’s fine. MC’s fine”

“Well, he doesn’t look fine to me”

“Somebody sedate me” murmured MC, but, of course, nobody heard him.

The room was soon filled with the familiar cacophony of an argument. Lucifer’s voice drowning Mammon’s attempts of defending himself, his concern over MC’s safety and his frustration at not being allowed to spend the night in the room unable to be heard.

The headache came again, one more time pushing his eyeballs and making him speechless, but this time it was watering his eyes too. He whined, embarrassed at the sound, and, little by little, too slow to his liking, the room went back to silence. A hand smoothed his hair, gently scratching the back of his neck.

“Is everything okay?” someone new whispered from the hallway.

“You were all screaming” added another one in an irritated tone. “You screwed my night routine! How am I going to have a clear skin if I keep getting woken up?”

“Stop talking, all of you”

Everybody kept quiet at Lucifer’s words, but MC could imagine their reluctance to do so. Sebas was silent as well, still sitting next to him and petting him to unconsciousness. Another hand came to cover him with the blanket, shortly grazing his jawline in the process; the skin was soft and smelt sweet, definitely Asmo’s.

“Here, let me help you”

MC couldn’t open his eyes anymore. He was awake enough to recognize Satan’s voice, but his touch was minimal, so he didn’t notice how he was being moved until his head touched the soft cold surface of the pillow. Asmo, he guessed, stepped in to properly tuck him in again. He supposed the lights turned off after that and he was pretty sure they said something else, but he might’ve been dreaming already.

“Sleep well, MC”

¿Mammon?

“Good night, guys. I’ll keep you updated”

Sebas.

“Good night, Sebastián”

He fell asleep.

.

.

Taglist: @stfuchaase @k1-an  @meggs-wonderland @kkeromenoo @va109 @marvelous-maniac   @cruzerforce4256 @blarsh @marathedemonoverlord @junni-berry   @arylleb @b-a-m-2006 @jonielunar @piercedddriver @cosmidaydreaming  @bluegrey02 @anxious-chick @t0xic1vi @chaengist @coffeeandtealol  @trxshykawa101 @ilovecandys2010   @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @nephiedarling

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Sacrifices (Book 2 of 3 BTR Series) a Jhea Fanfic.

Chapter 27: we need to talk..

Rhea pulled up to the house and entered the gate code. As the iron bars swung open, she glanced at Jeyce through the rearview mirror, her expression unreadable.

“Tell your father I’ll be home later,” she said, her tone calm but carrying an edge that made Jeyce straighten up.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jeyce replied, grabbing his backpack and stepping out of the car.

She watched him walk through the gate, shoulders slightly hunched, before it closed behind him. For a moment, Rhea sat there, gripping the steering wheel tightly, her thoughts swirling. With a deep sigh, she reversed out of the driveway and headed back to work.

Jeyce entered the garage and let the heavy door close behind him. His stomach churned as he entered the house through the back door, already bracing for the conversation he knew was coming.

Jey was waiting for him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, his expression hard to read but unmistakably serious. Barry and Bella lay at his feet, sensing the tension in the air.

Jey’s voice broke the silence. “Go ahead and speak. I didn’t raise you to be silent.”

Jeyce hesitated, glancing down at his sneakers. He knew there was no use in trying to dodge the topic. “Bart was saying stupid lies about Demi,” he muttered finally.

Jey raised an eyebrow. “And your first reaction was to throw hands?”

“I didn’t start it!” Jeyce argued, his voice rising slightly. “He—he said Demi was sneaking around with other guys, and I told him to shut up. He shoved me first, and I just—”

“You just what?” Jey interrupted, his tone sharper now. “You think that gives you a free pass to fight? You know better than that, Jeyce.”

Jeyce’s fists clenched as frustration bubbled over. “He was lying about her! What was I supposed to do, just stand there and let him say whatever he wants?”

“Yes, you stand there and let him talk,” Jey shot back, his voice firm. “Words don’t mean a damn thing unless you let them. You’ve got to learn how to handle this differently. You think every time someone says something about Demi—or you, or anyone—you can just throw hands? That’s not how it works.”

“He pushed me first,” Jeyce mumbled, though his voice had lost some of its defiance.

“And what, that’s supposed to make me proud of you?” Jey challenged, stepping forward. “You think I’m okay with you getting suspended—again—because someone said some crap about your girlfriend? This is about self-control, Jeyce. If you don’t learn that now, you’re gonna be in a whole world of trouble later.”

Jeyce’s eyes burned with unshed tears, though he refused to let them fall. “I was just trying to defend her,” he said quietly.

“I get it, son. I do,” Jey said, his tone softening just a fraction. “But defending someone doesn’t mean you lose your head every time someone opens their mouth. You’ve got to be smarter than this.”

The two stood in silence for a moment, the tension between them thick. Finally, Jey exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand over his face.

“You’re lucky your brother’s birthday is today,” Jey said, shaking his head. “Otherwise, we’d be having a much different conversation. Now, go upstairs. You’re staying there until the party starts at six. Do I make myself clear?”

Jeyce’s shoulders sagged, and he nodded reluctantly. “Yes, sir.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “And—uh—Rhea said she’ll be home later.”

Jey didn’t respond immediately, his eyes flickering with a mix of frustration and exhaustion. Finally, he nodded toward the stairs. “Go on.”

Jeyce turned and trudged upstairs, his footsteps heavy with the weight of the day.

As the sound of his son’s door closing echoed through the house, Jey leaned back against the counter, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. Barry nudged his leg with his nose, sensing his distress, and Jey gave the dog a half-hearted pat.

“Just like me at his age,” he muttered to himself, a flicker of understanding softening his features. Still, the weight of being both a disciplinarian and a father pressed heavily on his shoulders.

Jey made his way to the cookie container on the kitchen counter, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the perfectly baked brown butter chocolate chunk cookies. He opened the lid, and the sweet, buttery aroma wafted through the air. A grin spread across his face as he reached for one, but just as his fingers brushed the warm surface of a cookie, a voice boomed from the living room.

“DON’T THINK ABOUT IT, JEY! THOSE ARE ACCOUNTED FOR!” Trinity’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

Jey froze mid-reach, rolling his eyes dramatically. “YES, MA’AM!” he called back, shaking his head.

Despite her warning, Jey quickly snatched a cookie, balancing it in his mouth as he closed the lid. He was just turning to make his escape when he caught sight of Trinity standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face.

Jey removed the cookie from his mouth and held it up in mock surrender. “It’s just one cookie,” he said, feigning innocence.

Trinity narrowed her eyes playfully. “You say that every time, and every time, there’s mysteriously fewer cookies than when I left them.”

Jey bit into the cookie, savoring the gooey chocolate chunks and the perfect crunch. “You should take it as a compliment. If they weren’t this good, I wouldn’t risk getting caught.”

Trinity couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “You’re lucky it’s Jaciyah’s birthday, or I’d make you bake a whole new batch.”

Jey grinned and held up the half-eaten cookie. “Totally worth it.”

Trinity walked over and playfully swatted him on the arm. “Go on, get out of here before I change my mind.”

Jey nodded, still grinning, and headed toward the living room with the dogs trailing behind him. As he sat back on the couch, he couldn’t help but marvel at how the house felt alive—between the kids, the upcoming party, and even Trinity’s stern cookie rules. Moments like these, chaotic as they were, reminded him of what really mattered: family.

—

4:30 PM

4:30 rolled by quickly, and Jaciyah stepped out of the shower, steam rising from the bathroom as he ran his fingers through his damp braids. He smoothed them down with some serum, making sure every strand was perfectly in place. After that, he grabbed his clothes for the evening. He chose a black and red polo collared shirt, paired it with blue jeans, and slipped into his red and black Nike Dunks. A quick spritz of his favorite cologne and a glance at the mirror made him nod in approval.

As he finished getting dressed, Jaciyah reached for the chain his father had given him, tossing it around his neck with a practiced flick. He looked at himself one last time before heading downstairs, his footsteps echoing through the house.

“On my way to pick up Daya,” Jaciyah announced as he entered the living room, where Jey was lounging with the dogs.

Jey looked up and gave him a nod. “That’s fine. Your uncle Jon’s already got the ribs going on the grill.”

Jaciyah grabbed Jey’s Mercedes keys off the counter and headed for the door, but not before pausing to check in with his father.

“Hey, Dad, you got everything ready for tonight?”

“Everything’s good, son. I’ll see you later,” Jey replied, giving a thumbs up.

As Jaciyah stepped outside, Jey quickly dialed Rhea’s number, waiting for her to pick up. When she answered, he asked, “When you coming home, babe?”

“I’ve got a few things left to wrap up, but I should be home by 5:30,” Rhea’s voice came through the phone, sounding a bit distant but steady.

“Alright. I’ll see you then. We’ll be ready.”

“Sounds good. See you soon,” Rhea replied before ending the call.

Jey placed the phone down and glanced at the clock. Everything was falling into place, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was going to be one of those unforgettable nights—the ones full of laughter, family, and memories they’d cherish.

As Jaciyah pulled up to Daya’s friend’s apartment, he parked the car and looked around, taking in the quiet neighborhood. Daya had been staying with her best friend Hailey for the past few nights before heading to her dad’s house, and Jaciyah couldn’t deny that he’d enjoyed the extra time they’d been able to spend together. Hailey’s boyfriend worked as a manager at the Pizza Hut where Jaciyah picked up extra shifts, so he’d been working “double shifts” recently, just to be able to hang out with Daya whenever he could.

The past week had felt like a perfect balance between his responsibilities and time with her, but tonight, with Jaciyah’s birthday party coming up, he couldn’t wait to have her by his side.

He pulled out his phone and texted Daya: Here. Come on out. Moments later, the door of the apartment opened, and out walked Daya, carrying a gift in her hand. She looked effortlessly stunning as always. Her red V-neck shirt clung perfectly to her frame, and her blue jeans showed off her figure. The white Nike Air Forces completed the look, and her red and black hair cascaded down her shoulders in sleek, flat-ironed waves instead of her usual loose curls.

Jaciyah watched with a smile as she made her way toward the car.

When Daya reached the passenger side, she opened the door and slid into the seat next to him. “Happy birthday, baby,” she said with a sweet smile, handing him the gift bag. Her voice was soft, but there was a certain intensity in her gaze that sent a wave of warmth through him.

Before Jaciyah could say anything, Daya leaned over and kissed him, her lips meeting his with a tenderness that quickly turned passionate. The world around them seemed to disappear as he kissed her back, the pressure of the past week melting away as they lost themselves in the moment.

“Been waiting all week for this,” Daya whispered against his lips as she pulled back slightly, her breath warm against his skin.

Jaciyah grinned, his heart racing. “I think we’re both due for some time alone.” He reached for the gift, ready to see what she’d gotten him.

Jaciyah carefully opened the small box and his eyes lit up as he saw the delicate necklace inside. The gold pendant gleamed, and on it was a simple “D” engraved in a sleek, modern font. A smile spread across his face as he picked it up, feeling a surge of warmth in his chest. “I love it,” he said, his voice low with affection. He fastened the chain around his neck, letting the pendant settle comfortably against his skin.

Daya watched him, her eyes soft and proud. Then, with a playful smirk, she lifted her leg slightly and pointed down toward her ankle. Jaciyah followed her gaze and saw a gold anklet wrapped around her ankle, with a small “J” hanging from it, matching his necklace perfectly. His heart skipped a beat as he took in the sweet gesture.

A grin tugged at his lips. “You really do know how to make me smile,” he said, his voice filled with admiration.

Daya leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “Only for you, baby.”

Without another word, Jaciyah pulled her in closer, capturing her lips with his. The kiss deepened instantly, the tenderness of their connection shifting to something more intense. They both felt it—their own magnetic pull, the unspoken understanding of their bond, the way their hearts seemed to sync in perfect rhythm. Time seemed to stand still around them as their kiss continued, the world outside the car fading into the background.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested against each other, breathing heavily but smiling. “Best birthday gift ever,” Jaciyah said, still feeling the spark between them.

Daya chuckled softly, “I’m glad you think so. But the night’s just getting started.”

—

5:12 PM

Rhea yawned as she pulled her plum-colored Tahoe into the garage. The day had felt incredibly long. Work was draining, and though she had hoped the break she took earlier to pick up Jeyce would make the day go by faster, it only made everything feel more drawn out. But the one good thing about her shift ending was that she had managed to finish on time, at least. As she opened the car door, the scent of the evening air hit her, and the weight of the day slowly started to lift.

Dropping her bags onto the kitchen counter, Rhea smiled when she saw Jey lounging in the living room. He looked up at her, his face softening into a smile as she approached. She leaned in and kissed him, a gentle but affectionate peck.

“I’m gonna go upstairs and change, okay?” she said softly.

Jey smiled back, nodding. “Okay, love. Jaciyah asked for red and black, so find something in those colors.”

Rhea nodded, but the exhaustion was still weighing on her. As she made her way upstairs, her feet felt heavier with every step. When she reached the bedroom, she sat on the bed with a soft sigh, the day catching up with her. Her feet were now fully swollen, something she was going to get used to moving forward. Kicking off her Vans, she stretched her legs out, feeling the tightness in her muscles.

She undressed slowly, feeling every inch of her body aching, and headed for her dresser. As she rifled through her clothes, she could feel the tiredness consuming her, but she focused on finding something comfortable for the party. She chose an oversized red Civil Regime shirt and paired it with black biker shorts. She changed into fresh socks, opting for knee-length black Nike socks for a more casual, relaxed look.

By the time she finished dressing, Rhea was utterly exhausted. She looked at the time and saw it was 5:25. Knowing that they were still on schedule for Jaciyah’s party, she decided to lie down for a few minutes. The bed felt so inviting, and as soon as she laid down on her side, the weight of her tiredness pulled her into a light, much-needed sleep.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Jey began to realize that Rhea had been upstairs for a while. It wasn’t like her to take so long to get ready, and Jon had asked him to check on her. Jey, always attentive when it came to Rhea, quietly made his way upstairs, a quiet concern growing in his chest.

He gently pushed the door open and peeked inside. He didn’t want to disturb her if she was simply resting, but when he saw Rhea lying on the bed, her body relaxed and her breathing soft, he couldn’t help but feel a tug of worry. The exhaustion in her face was evident, and her feet, still propped up on the bed, looked more swollen than they had been earlier.

Jey walked in quietly, moving toward the bed. He knelt beside her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. He could see how tired she was, but he didn’t want to wake her up. Gently, he placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered, “Love, you okay?”

Rhea stirred slightly but didn’t fully wake, and Jey’s heart softened at the sight of her. He smiled to himself, grateful she had finally allowed herself to rest, even if it was just for a short while. He stood up and pulled the covers over her carefully, then left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. He would let her rest for a bit longer, knowing she had been pushing herself too hard recently.

—

7:18 PM

Soon, the small get-together was in full swing. The upbeat rhythm of Roll Up by Wiz Khalifa played over the stereo system, setting the tone for the evening. The backyard was alive with laughter and conversation as everyone enjoyed the party.

Demi, who Jaciyah and Daya had picked up before they arrived, was outside with Jeyce, playing with Barry and Bella. The two dogs bounced happily around the yard, their energy contagious as the kids threw tennis balls for them to chase. The sound of their laughter filled the air, mixing with the lively beats of the music.

Jon and Trinity were sitting comfortably on the patio furniture, chatting and relaxing, while Jeremiah and Jeremy kept an eye on the crowd, making sure everyone was having a good time. Jesse, ever the protector, stood by the front gate, keeping a vigilant lookout for any unwanted visitors or interruptions.

On the large, oversized swing at the back of the yard, Jaciyah and Daya were nestled together, enjoying a quiet moment. Daya, having recently met Jey officially, felt a sense of relief wash over her. The tension she’d been carrying melted away when Jey made a lighthearted joke about how his dad had accidentally caught himself with Jaciyah’s mom. She laughed, the last bit of worry in her eyes fading.

Daya was a good girl, Jey thought. He was grateful that both of his sons had found someone special, and he felt proud that they were able to share these moments with people they cared about.

Jey, who had been tending to the grill, flipped the meat with practiced precision, making sure everything was cooking just right. He glanced over at Jon, who was lounging in his chair, enjoying the party but always ready to pitch in when needed.

“Jon,” Jey called out. “Keep an eye on the grill for me. I’m going to go wake up Rhea.”

Jon gave him a thumbs-up and stretched his legs out. “No problem, Jey. Go get her. We got it covered here.”

Jey nodded, a grateful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. As he made his way toward the house, he couldn’t help but think about how different everything felt now. Life was chaotic, but it was the good kind of chaos—full of love, laughter, and family.

He reached the door, knocked gently, and entered the room. The quiet hum of the house was a stark contrast to the lively noise outside. As he made his way to the bedroom, he found Rhea exactly where he left her—still curled up on the bed, her breathing slow and steady.

He smiled softly, not wanting to disturb her too much, but knowing she needed to wake up soon to join the celebration. Gently, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Love,” he whispered. “The party’s going great. You’re missing all the fun.”

Rhea stirred, a small groan escaping her lips as she slowly opened her eyes. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the light. “Mmm… did I sleep that long?”

“Yeah,” Jey said with a chuckle. “But it’s okay. We’ve got a while yet. Jaciyah’s been waiting for you.”

Rhea stretched and yawned, sitting up with a tired but content expression. “I really needed that nap,” she murmured, rubbing her eyes.

Jey smiled and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I know, babe. But you’ve got to come out and enjoy yourself. Everyone’s having a good time.”

Rhea smiled faintly, though she was still clearly worn out. “Alright,” she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Let me get my shoes on, and I’ll be out there.”

Jey stood up, offering her a hand to help her up. “Take your time, love. The party’s not going anywhere.”

As Rhea slowly got up, Jey returned to the grill, where Jon had taken over the task of flipping the burgers and ribs, making sure they were cooked just right. He handed Jon the spatula as Rhea emerged from the house, looking casual and comfortable in her outfit.

“Looking good, mama,” Jon said with a wink as Rhea walked toward them.

She laughed softly. “Thanks. Sorry about the nap. I guess I needed it more than I thought.”

“No worries,” Jey said. “We’ll save the party for you.”

As the evening carried on, the atmosphere remained light and fun, the perfect celebration for Jaciyah’s birthday.

Rhea smiled as Trinity handed her a tall glass of the homemade banana chocolate milkshake. The sweet, rich aroma of banana and chocolate filled the air, and Rhea took a sip, savoring the creamy goodness. “So much chocolate,” she said with a playful grin.

“That’s all Jaciyah requested,” Trinity replied, leaning back in her chair and watching as Jey continued to work his magic on the grill, the scent of sizzling meat filling the backyard.

Rhea laughed lightly, the warmth of the moment settling over her. She enjoyed the calm moments like this, surrounded by family and good company. She took another sip of her milkshake and glanced around the yard. Her eyes caught sight of Demi and Jeyce, both kneeling on the grass and playing with Barry and Bella. The two dogs were wagging their tails excitedly, running back and forth as Jeyce tried to teach Demi how to toss a tennis ball.

“Oh my word…” Rhea started, a soft laugh escaping her. “She’s like a mini me,” she said, referring to Demi, who had a similar energy and presence to herself. Demi’s playful nature with the dogs made her smile.

Jon looked over at Demi and Jeyce, laughing. “I know, right?” he said, clearly entertained by the sight.

Trinity, sitting beside Jon, nodded enthusiastically. “I think it’s so cute!” she said. “Her sister Daya, though, she looks just like you if you were to meet Jey when you guys were teenagers.”

Rhea blinked, processing the comparison. “What do you mean?” she asked, glancing at her friend.

“Think about it,” Trinity continued, pointing toward Daya, who was sitting on the swing with Jaciyah. “Daya’s got that strong, independent vibe, just like you had when you were younger. She’s got a bit of that quiet confidence, and you can tell she knows exactly who she is.”

Rhea chuckled, shaking her head. “You guys are crazy, but I see it. I do. It’s funny how life works out.”

Jon leaned back in his chair, a grin on his face as he watched the group. “It’s like his sons found their Rhea’s,” he said, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Both of them are lucky to have such strong women in their lives.”

Rhea’s smile softened, and she nodded. She loved seeing her kids, or rather, Jaciyah and Jeyce, find people who complemented them so well. Daya and Demi weren’t just good for them—they were part of the family now. They fit in effortlessly, and Rhea couldn’t help but feel proud of the bond they were all building together.

Jey looked over his shoulder from the grill, catching Rhea’s eye. He winked at her, his smile widening.

“Everything good, love?” he called out.

Rhea gave him a thumbs-up, her heart swelling with warmth at the sight of her fiancé, the father of her children, cooking for everyone with such pride. It wasn’t just about the food—it was about the family they had created together, the love they had for one another.

Jon raised his drink, toasting toward Jey and Rhea. “You guys are a good match,” he said, his voice loud enough for the group to hear.

“Agreed,” Trinity added, clinking her glass with Rhea’s.

Rhea smiled brightly, her gaze flickering between Jey, the kids, and her family. The evening was everything she could have asked for—peaceful, happy, and filled with the kind of love that made all the struggles worth it. This was their world, and it was perfect in its own chaotic way.

Suddenly, the smooth, reggae beat of No Letting Go by Wayne Wonder filled the air, making the atmosphere shift from laid-back chatter to something more intimate. Trinity, with a playful grin on her face, turned to Jon and said, “Come on, dance with me.”

Jon raised an eyebrow but smiled, clearly amused. “Right now?”

“Yes, right now,” she insisted, tugging on his hand with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Without hesitation, Jon stood up, and they moved toward the center of the yard, swaying to the rhythm of the song.

Rhea, who had been watching them, couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her brother and his wife dancing together. But as she glanced over at Jey, she felt a sudden shift inside her. The soft notes of the song seemed to weave their way into her heart, and in that moment, it felt as if the entire world had disappeared, leaving just the two of them.

She caught Jey’s gaze, and he seemed to understand exactly what she was feeling. Without a word, Jey stood up, his hand extending toward her. His eyes were soft but intense, and it was as if the song had transported them to another time, another place—back to Damian’s AIRBNB in Houston on New Year’s, when everything felt perfect and electric. The world outside of them had blurred, and for that moment, it had been just about them, just about the way they moved together.

Rhea smiled and took his hand, allowing him to pull her gently into his arms. As the song played on, Jey wrapped his arm around her waist, and Rhea placed her hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. They began to sway in unison, the motion slow and natural, just like it had been that night in Houston. The sound of Wayne Wonder’s voice filled the space between them, and it was as if they were floating in their own world, disconnected from everything else around them.

Jey looked down at Rhea, his smile deepening. “Feels like déjà vu, huh?”

Rhea laughed softly, her fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “Yeah, it does,” she said, her voice soft. “It’s like we’re back there… just the two of us.”

“Back when we didn’t have to worry about anything,” Jey said, his voice low and filled with a certain tenderness.

Rhea nodded, her eyes closing for a moment as she let the music surround them. She remembered that night—how everything had seemed possible. How the future felt wide open and full of promise. It felt like a lifetime ago, but in Jey’s arms, it was as if they had never left that moment.

Jey gently pulled her closer, his lips brushing the top of her head as they continued to dance, the world outside of their little bubble fading away. The laughter of the others in the background felt distant, almost as if it was part of a dream, while the music carried them through the memory of their love.

“Tonight’s special, huh?” Rhea whispered, looking up at him with a soft smile.

“Every moment with you is special,” Jey replied, his voice filled with sincerity. “But yeah, this one feels like it’s just for us.”

As the song played on, they moved together, lost in the comfort of each other’s presence. It was a quiet kind of magic—no words needed, just the rhythm of their hearts and the bond they shared.

When the song finally ended and the next one played, they stood there for a moment, still holding each other, unwilling to break the connection. It felt like a moment they could keep, like they were both suspended in time, just a couple lost in love. The moment would pass, but it would leave its mark, a reminder of how far they had come and how much they still had to look forward to.

—

Everyone’s voices rang out, singing Happy Birthday as Rhea carefully lit the candles on the cake for Jaciyah. The warm glow of the candles flickered in the evening air, and Jaciyah beamed as everyone around him sang in unison. A smile tugged at Rhea’s lips as she watched her son, proud and full of life, standing there surrounded by family. After they finished singing, Jaciyah leaned in and blew out the candles, his wish a silent moment to himself.

Trinity, ever the photographer, quickly grabbed her camera and began snapping pictures of the moment. Laughter and chatter filled the air as the party continued, but then, just as the mood seemed to be at its peak, a shift in energy caught Jey’s attention. Jeremiah, his face tight with concern, approached him from the side, motioning for him to step away.

“Jey, I need to talk to you,” Jeremiah said, his voice low and urgent. “We have a situation.”

Jey’s brow furrowed. He knew the tone in his cousin’s voice all too well—it was the kind of tone that meant something was wrong, something they couldn’t afford to ignore. Without a word, Jey followed Jeremiah, stepping away from the laughter and lightheartedness of the party. They walked toward the gate at the front of the property, and Jey’s eyes narrowed as he noticed a car parked by the entrance.

The vehicle was unfamiliar, and the lights from the party illuminated it just enough for Jey to feel uneasy. He couldn’t see who was inside, but something about the situation made his skin crawl. His instinct told him this wasn’t just a coincidence.

Jeremiah led him closer to the gate, and that’s when the figure stepped out of the car. Jey’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized the man. Jey’s pulse quickened. His jaw clenched.

“We need to speak, Joshua,” Morris said, his voice calm but loaded with an unsettling intensity.

[iamnmbr3]

Cursed Child rant? as a treat? 👉👈

Oh god. Where to even start. Listen, I know some people enjoy CC and I say more power to you. I'm not here to be the fun police and say what people can and can't like or write fic about or derive meaning from or whatever. But for me, personally, Cursed Child is an absolute mess of the worst kind that irritates me on a profound level.

First off, it's completely inconsistent with the canon characterizations and established rules of world building (and JKR didn't even do that much world building so there wasn't that much to keep track of and yet, they couldn't even bother to do that). I mean, Cedric, who tried to give the Triwizard Cup to Harry doesn't win and that somehow causes him to become a Death Eater??? Huh? It's not just ooc. It's bad storytelling. I mean, even if he was a hugely sore loser why would losing a tournament cause him to join an extremist blood purist paramilitary group? That has nothing to do with him losing. It's stupid and childish and nonsensical and SO bad.

And really? That's the best you can come up with? If the point of that whole thing was the tired trope of 'time travel goes wrong and makes things worse' they could've just had the gang expose Crouch earlier but instead of Voldemort not returning he just ends up returning but not using Harry's blood which allows him to do his original plan of growing his power in secret. And idk. Maybe then he takes over and he kills Harry and Harry doesn't come back. I didn't even put any effort into that. It's a bit dumb and inelegant but it gets the job done without wild character assassination and a lack of logic so profound it would insult the reasoning abilities of a fungus.

But ok, let's judge it as its own vaguely Harry Potter inspired thing rather than as an actual sequel to the canon series. You know what the result is? IT'S STILL BAD. It's just. SO BAD. I don't understand how it's a real thing.

It's like a parody of a bad play. It can't possibly be real. Harry suddenly has a phobia of pigeons? Why??? It's so...stupid. And I'm supposed to take that seriously? What? And the dialogue. The dialogue. "Bad" doesn't even cover it. The fact that "Wow. Squeak. My geekness is a-quivering" is a real actual line in the actual play causes me physical pain. WHO WRITES THAT?! AND THEN LEAVES IT IN THE FINAL DRAFT?!?!?

And Delphi. WHAT EVEN?! She's literally like a parody of a bad fanfic Mary Sue. Down to the blue streak in her hair. But we're supposed to take her seriously? As a villain? Tf? She's like a bad Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way knockoff. The whole play is like an unfunny parody of bad writing. But it's not supposed to be. It actually pretends to be a genuine drama. Which is so much worse. I truly think My Immortal is better. And way funnier.

No effort at all went into the story construction. Characters act incredibly childishly and unrealistically and simplistically. The story doesn't feel like it was written by adults. There's no feeling or depth or emotion. It's all plot contrivances and nauseatingly simplistic writing. It isn't a story. It's just some stuff that happens. Because the writers were just like 'eh it's Harry Potter it'll sell.' And that's not art. That's just churned out content. And it bothers me on such a profound level that they did it and got away with it.

I would be embarrassed to write that for myself, let alone to turn that in as a professional writer. It's so inconsistent with the original story that I legitimately think the 2 guys who wrote it didn't even read the books. They just glanced at the wiki and decided they were good to go. Despite being PAID to do this. How sloppy is that? Not to mention Harry Potter meant so much to so many people who were ecstatic to get more content yet the two clowns who wrote this just skimmed the wiki and then vomited out some of the worst lines ever penned in history and called it a day.

[incorrect-riordanverse]

It's really disheartening that Rick Riordan stance on the war I understand that he wants to be neutral on this stance but in my opinion by becoming neutral he only worsening the issue as many Palestines are dying that are mostly children, how the majority of Israeli are supporting the Genocide of Palestine, and how the government is trying so hard (but miserably failing) to justified the genocide. I will hold him accountable for what he said on this issue as during this period the choice is basically "you are with us or against us."

Part of me wishes he will realize what he said was wrong and understand the bigger issue that plays at hand. I will criticism for his actions as how can a man who promotes LGBTQIA and representation of minorities and disabilities in his books turn a blind eyes to Genocide of people. However we can only wait and see on his next move.

One last thing about your previous you said you don't group Riordan with other authors where do you would group him with? Also this is more on an opinion base answer but many people are boycotting companies that support Israel there as been another post on Twitter on boycotting authors. Rick Riordan happens to be one of them. Do you believed that he should be boycotted with other authors or he should be properly educated and apologized for his previous statement? If you believed he should be boycotted what do tou have to say to those who might have the mentality of "separate the art from the artist"

thank you for this ask, and i completely agree with you! it is extremely hypocritical of him considering what he preaches for in his books. i think he’s convinced he has properly addressed the apartheid by using very vague language that can be applied to anything, and in doing so, he’s addressed nothing really.

your first question on who i would group him with— probably other authors who are doing the exact same as him in their virtue signalling. i always like to link my other blogs to each other, so i don’t think it’s a secret that i have a red queen account and i’m pretty passionate about that. unfortunately, victoria aveyard is another fantasy author who has literally wrote a whole four-book series on the uprising against oppression but is now playing neutral in her address of the apartheid. rebecca yarros is in the same boat, although i haven’t read ‘fourth wing,’ fans have said there are large themes of oppression within the book. so if i had to group riordan it would probably be in the ‘i-like-to-write-about-it-for-profit-and-praise-only’ group.

in terms of boycotting, i think that’s a great idea! i would also like to remind everyone that the percy jackson tv show is coming out in a little over a month, but disney is a huge industry financially supporting israel as well ($2 million in funding), which is obviously far more damning than a poorly written address by one person. there is a boycott happening for disney as well— and the pjo show will be released on disney + . i implore everyone to not watch it on that platform!! personally i will be pirating it online (idk if i’ll get into trouble saying that here but lol oh well), because im pretty sure the boycott is only for withdrawing financial support, not simply consuming media.

i feel like separating art from the artist only works if that artist is… like, dead, and you’re using that art and its values as a historical insight to how the world was during its time. you can still like a piece of work that has a problematic artist, you can engage with the work (to an extent). but separating art from the artist barely works because either:

to engage with the art is to support the artist in some way, so that artist is making money based on your interaction with that (particularly in the case for singers and streaming of songs)

that artists’ views and values are so rancid that it’s literally embedded within the text itself. to ignore it is harmful.

harry potter is my all-time favourite example to use, because jkr is the scum of the earth, and her views are entrenched in her work. a lesser known example is sarah j maas and her books (she’s also not as dogshit as jkr, but then again, its not hard to be a better person than her). i’m not going to bag on these people for liking things by problematic people (would be hypocritical of me), i just think it’s cowardly not to address it when you come across it, or at least admit to it. to simply write things off as ‘separate to the artist’ is like purposefully turning off your critical thinking skills.

on whether boycotting or an apology is enough— if riordan did apologise and used specific language and not the nonsense he had in that blog, expressed his remorse for his ignorance and then actually did or said something to support the people of palestine then, yeah. that’s fine and that’s how we learn ig. but he should educate himself, too many activists, people from the arab community and especially palestinians are expected to be all-knowing and to educate everyone else on an already draining and personal tragedy. it’s been exhausting for me, i can’t imagine what they’re going through. if riordan (or anyone) needs to be educated, he should do it himself, and (at least in my opinion) i don’t think the info is very hard to find now. it’s just about weeding out the misinformation.

i think boycotting is a good idea as of now. it can serve to be a catalyst for self reflection for many people. also, as much as i hate most online discourses, talking about it online needs to happen. i don’t want these authors to forget, for a moment, about the ignorance they posted online during a time of international crisis.