#sad its abandoned now but at least some pieces of it are still there

[chiosblog]

Still cant believe I was in one of the brocedes birthplaces

They were so young ohmy

[sashketter]

His pauldron remained

Summary: Rex leaves a piece of his armor with you.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Implied established relationship, a little fluff, a little angst. Gender-neutral reader. Fully SFW.

Notes: My first fic! This takes place immediately after season 3 episode 7 of The Bad Batch (“Extraction”) and jumps ahead twice, first to the middle of the Rebellion and then to the start of the New Republic. I’m obviously still processing the loss of Rex’s pauldron lol

“Rex!”

You called out to him from the edge of the small airfield. He was facing Howzer and Echo at the end of the Remora’s platform, his back to you. He turned at the sound of your voice, and even at this distance, you could see the right corner of his mouth tug up. Echo nodded and directed Howzer towards a group of clones to their right. Rex started towards you, the jaig eyes of his helmet peeking out from under his left arm.

“You left this behind,” you said as you lifted Rex’s pauldron from where it hung down by its straps over your left shoulder. You stretched it out to him and closed the distance between you.

Rex sighed and rubbed the back of his head. Weariness seemed to sag his shoulders. He stared down, eyebrows furrowed, at the piece of his armor balanced in your hands.

Noticing his posture, you looked around and asked, “Your men… The mission failed?”

Rex met your eyes briefly before shaking his head and averting his glance to his left. The sadness in his features shifted to contemplation. “Yes, but it brought us some intel.”

Before you could push further, Rex rapped a knuckle on the scorched blue material in your left hand. “I left that for you,” he said. A smirk spread across his face and wrinkled his eyes, softening his gaze on you.

Your eyebrows shot up in shock, then down in confusion. “Uh, if this is your way of promoting me,” you leveled the pauldron and its straps across your collarbones, “you should know this won’t fit. And not just literally, captain.” You hummed his title a litter lower in your throat.

His smile faded, lips thinned into a taut line. “No, I don’t need it anymore,” he mused, eyes downcast. “The rank that came with this,” he pinched the straps, “doesn’t exist without the Republic. We’re all equals now.”

You watched a haze of emotions flicker across his face before he lifted his eyes back to yours and smiled again.

“Besides,” he slinked a step closer to you and dropped to a murmur that rumbled in his chest, “I had to tell you I’d be back without waking you.” The knuckle of his right forefinger came up to gently tap your chin upward.

As his hand came down, you let out a shy huff and smiled into his gleaming face. He could’ve left a note on your desk or a message with one of his brothers, but you knew instantly the weight of this gesture: he trusted you with a piece of himself, a part of his past that he was learning to live without in this brand-new galaxy. You gathered the pauldron and its straps into your hands and hugged it to your chest. “I’ll keep it safe,” you promised.

~~~

Years passed as bases of operation were abandoned and reassembled throughout the galaxy, the proto rebellion ever on the run from the Empire’s probe droids. As the movement’s numbers grew, your belongings dwindled. Papers and pillows and plenty of extra weight were shed to improve speed and efficiency. You could fit most of your things into one bag, ready to be slung across your back at a moment’s notice, but you still used a second larger case to carry supplies necessary to acclimate to each new planet’s environment. Buried beneath various coats and oxygen masks and rappelling rope was Rex’s pauldron, always the last item to be unpacked and hung in your sleeping quarters.

You had lost track of Rex awhile ago, but kept his pauldron where he could most easily pick it back up. At least, that’s what you told yourself - you promised, after all - but you knew that beyond the words that had passed between you, from late night whispers to hastily scribbled notes, you kept it as a reminder of him and the hope you had kindled together.

“What’s that,” someone would inevitably inquire, piqued by the antique armor.

“It’s a friend’s,” you had said for a year, before acknowledging instead, “It was a friend’s.”

Most probed no further, satisfied with the assumption that the memento’s owner had died. After all, most in the Rebellion had lost at least one person to the unyielding Empire; meaningful keepsakes were common. Those who pressed further were met with the story of Rex and his activities during those early years of Imperial control: how he and his brothers had set up a small network of militaristic strongholds hidden in the ruins of the Clone Wars, equipped them with Republic technology salvaged from decommissioned cruisers - the same ships they had manned and traversed the galaxy in for years - and essentially laid the foundation for the ground operations of the current iteration of the Rebellion. You hammered home that last point especially hard for those unfamiliar with the clone captain. If he is dead, you thought, his memory should live on.

Years passed, and his pauldron remained.

~~~

Galaxy-wide celebrations after the Battle of Endor lasted for weeks, but for some, the work was just beginning. Building a New Republic would be a different fight altogether, one that required skills more subtle than shooting blasters. Nonetheless, some members of the Rebellion came forward to help.

You were still finding your place in peacetime when your former general, now distinguished senator, summoned you to her office. A short flight brought you to Coruscant, which for all the upheaval of the past two decades, seemed almost like it had been during the Republic. Glittering surfaces above hid neon darkness below, with every species of the galaxy converging on its streets.

Walking the halls of the Senate building, however, felt less familiar. All the finery of its members couldn’t replace the emptiness left behind by the time that had passed. Unlike some, you remembered the Republic before the wars, before legislative bills and secret motions had set the galaxy on a course to be undone and remade into something to survive. Ghosts from a lifetime ago lingered most potently where change originated. I wonder if he ever came here, you wondered idly. He would’ve hated it.

Senator Organa wasted no time in offering you a position as one of her aides. She was detailing the job’s responsibilities when another senator, breathless with news, entered and urged her to the lower chambers. I might not be cut out for this, you thought as she left the room.

You waited in front of her desk, standing at attention out of habit and cataloguing the contents of the senator’s shelves, when a familiar voice drifted from the doorway behind you. His honey dulcet tones matched the golden haze filtering through the windows and silhouetting the room.

“Still got my pauldron?”

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

H/T to @fox-trot for this post re: clone bases. I was thinking the same, although I’d go a step further and argue the clones set up the earliest Rebel bases. I just love the idea of remnants of the Republic haunting the Empire by forming the foundation of the Rebellion.

And I know we don’t technically see a fully formed, cohesive Rebellion until circa Rebels and Andor, but I also like to think there were several attempts at a coalition that failed, or at least smaller cells like Saw Gerrera’s that had been operating independently, for years before. Hence “proto rebellion” and then “the current iteration of the Rebellion” (emphases added lol) 😇

[aheathen-conceivably]

Out of the corner of her eye Zelda could see Giorgio staring off into the distance. They had been working since sunrise, barring any breaks except for when Violette had come to find them. His glassy eyes and slumped shoulders could have been exhaustion, but she knew better.

Usually he was easy to work with, quick to follow her every instruction and constantly amiable despite the grueling tasks. When the day got too long or the soil unrelenting, his positivity could be infectious, and his attempts to keep her hopeful immensely appreciated. But in moments like this, he was unreachable. She knew better than to ask how Jo was; his answer would be the same: silence and a desolate shake of his head. So she walked closer, Gio barely making any attempt to hide his stricken eyes or shaking hands as she reached him. She put her hand on his shoulder in a familiar gesture, “Do you want me to go and check on her again?”

For a moment he seemed to consider it, but then he sighed heavily, “Do you mind if I go in with her for the day? Or I can come back if you still need me…”

“No, Gio. Go with her. Sunset is coming soon and I’m sure Violette will be waiting on me.”

At the mention of Violette’s name Zelda noticed that he flinched visibly before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking toward their cabin. 

The moment that he stepped inside he sank to the floor. He couldn’t tell Zelda why he had offered to come, that he couldn’t stand there thinking about the look of hatred on Violette’s face any longer. He couldn’t even tell her that Jo had begun besieging him not to let any of them into their cabin, not even her. At first it had just been Violette. Please don’t let her see me like this, Gio. Promise me. Make Zelda promise. Keep her out.

He hadn’t wanted to, hadn’t thought that her growing isolation would help her or the child who so clearly needed her; but when it was his fault in the first place what else could he do other than oblige? He thought that maybe she had known better, known what she needed to gather back the pieces of herself. So he had trusted her rather than push her, because at the very least he knew that she was a woman who couldn’t be told what to do. But then it was Antoine, and now, it was Zelda. It was like the more she let Giorgio see her vulnerable, the more she withered away from herself and everyone else, and he didn’t know how to handle this on his own anymore.

When he entered the room she didn’t even rise at the sound like she used to. Instead she stayed facing away from him, staring at the wall. It was enough to make him want to scream, at her, at himself, at every lie he’d ever been told about how this life would come naturally, how perfect it would be as if by its very virtue. Instead he steadied his voice and spoke the one name he hoped could still elicit some sort of reaction from her: “Violette came looking for you again today.”

Silence.

“Jo, you need your family. Your family needs you. You can’t just cut them out when they’re right outside. They can help you, please.”

The desperation of his plea almost worked, because she knew that he was right; but she couldn’t explain just how much she felt like she had lost herself, couldn’t tell him that she no longer had the emotional stamina to take Zelda’s nervous pity or Antoine’s growing panic, or even worse, Violette’s sad childish confusion.

All she could muster was a petty argument, an insult to deflect the blame off of her and onto him. Choice words for a man who abandoned his own family. But how could she say that to him now? He went out day after day taking her family’s ire and concern like a shield while he worked and tried provide for them. She couldn’t argue with him. So instead she answered with silence. Heavy silence cut through by Giorgio’s exhausted sigh. 

The bed creaked as he inched nearer to her and she tightened every muscle in her body, “Could you try and eat tonight, please? I’ll cook whatever you want.”

Both of them knew that it was a hollow offer, one born more from desperate love than the reality of their pantry. Gone were the days where fresh herbs clung to him like cologne, French Market bread lining their shelves and home-made pasta dough setting on the counter. Cook what, Gio? There’s nothing. There’s nothing left. So instead. Silence. 

He brought his hand to hers in one last attempt to rouse her, but she stayed as still as a stone statue, “I love you, Jo.”

And then silence. Silence filled with the words that Giorgio really wanted to speak: And I’m sorry. I’m so goddamn sorry.

[andreafmn]

Collision | Chapter 19

Word Count: 3.6K Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life is at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same. Chapter: 19/? A/N: Um, cannot believe this story is at 19 chapters already. like, what? I'm thinking of separating the series into each of the books, that way we don't get to like 100 chapters because it's basically just a Twilight rewrite 😅😅 My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts  or buy me a coffee to support me and my love of writing Follow 😊 -> TikTok • Instagram • Business If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post! Please check if you’re tagged in the story, I’ve reached the limit of tags on Twilight again it seems. 😅

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Chapter 19

(Y/N) felt guilt surging through her as she knocked on the door of the Swan residence. She knew she had been in pain. That just like Bella she had been abandoned by the person they thought was the love of their life. But she had crawled out of the dark hole she had sunk into, fighting tooth and nail against everything that wanted to keep her down. Although, she could still feel their claws scraping at her skin, breathing down her neck, and whispering their return.

But even if she still wasn’t a hundred percent healed and she still cried herself to sleep on the nights she was alone, she wanted to at least help Bella take the first step out.

“(Y/N),” Charlie smiled. “Thank you for coming over.”

“Of course, Charlie. I just wanna make sure Bella gets better, or at least start to.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you. And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he stammered slightly. “Before the Cullens left, there was talk in the town about the doctor. You know, about who he was seeing…”

“You’re wondering if we were together?” (Y/N) smiled, pushing down the sadness that was threatening to spill out with her words. “Well, I’ll let you know that those rumors were true. And, yes, just like Bella, he broke up with me and left. I’m guessing that’s why you asked me to talk to her.”

“It is,” he smiled awkwardly. “I’m not usually keen on small-town gossip, but I’d heard that you had been in a funk since they left, and I put two and two together. And seeing how well you’re doing now, I needed to throw out a hail Mary and see if you could help Bella.”

“It’s okay, Charlie. I knew that people talked about us,” she said reassuringly. “And though it’s been hard, with the help of my friends and family, I was able to start piecing myself back together. I only hope I can help do the same with Bella.”

“I hope so to,” he breathed defeatedly. “I have to run out to work right now but you can help yourself to anything in the kitchen or you can get some pizza, or even take Bella to the diner. I’ll cover the whole tab.”

“I think we’ll manage, Charlie. But thank you,” she chuckled. “I’m no miracle worker but I will try my best.”

“That is all I can ask,” he said. “You probably won’t be here when I get back, so I’m gonna thank you again for trying with Bella. I’m glad that she has people in her corner like you.”

 “She will always have a friend in me.”

(Y/N) waved the man away as he left the house, pointing her upstairs in the direction of Bella. With the man gone the house was eerily quiet. If she hadn’t known the other girl was in her room, she would have thought Charlie had left her in an empty house. There was no sign of life. And she hated how familiar that felt.

She walked up the creaky stairs, bracing herself for whatever version of Isabella Swan she would be faced with. She knew what losing yourself in heartache looked and felt like, and it was not pretty.

The door to Bella’s room was open, still no indication of movement, and for a second (Y/N) felt like she was intruding into someone’s privacy. Until she saw the girl’s figure as still as a statue on the far end of her bedroom staring out the window.

Bella looked paler than usual, her cheeks slightly sunken and her eyes wearing dark bags under them. She hadn’t been sleeping or eating well and it was evident on her body. If someone had told her that the Swan girl had not moved from that chair in months, she would have believed them.

“Hey, Bella.” (Y/N)’s voice startled her. The girl jumped as though her systems had jump-started at the sound of another presence. “Don’t know if your dad told you but he asked me to come over. I know we haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“Oh, hey,” she muttered. “Yeah, I think he mentioned something.”

“I guess it’s no surprise that he asked me to come talk to you, huh?”

“Because of them,” she sighed.

“Yeah,” (Y/N) smiled painfully, sitting on the ledge of the window right in front of her.

She had practiced a speech at home, words of encouragement that would hopefully chip at the wall Bella had built around herself. She’d practiced speech after speech, picking from every talking to Sam and her mom had related to her, every phrase that made her own heart soften.

But standing before Bella, the words had died in her throat. There was nothing she could say to make it better. No amount of bullshit could make her better. What the Cullens had done to both of them Would not be remedied with a conversation. And that was all (Y/N) had.

“How’d you do it?” Bella asked after a few minutes in silence. “How were you able to move on from him?”

“To be honest… I haven’t,” she sighed, the confession tasting acrid on her tongue. “And I don’t think I ever will. I don’t think you ever really move on from someone you were ready to give up your whole life for.”

“But you seem to have it all together now,” she exclaimed. “You’re in med school, you’re going to parties, you’re working at the hospital. And you look happy.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret, Bella. That’s the beauty of pretending. People don’t question someone that looks happy,” (Y/N) smiled softly. “I’m not doing any better than you just because it looks like I am. If I’m telling the truth, I am still as heartbroken as I was the day they left. I just decided that pretending was easier than hurting.”

“I just feel like I’ll be in pain for the rest of my life,” the girl cried softly. “I just wish there was something I could use to numb it all. I just want it to stop.”

“That’s not the answer either, Bella. And I would know. I spent the first two months drowning my sorrows with vodka,” she confessed. “And even if I felt numb for a few hours the pain was still there. It always will be, I think.”

“Then how do we make it through? How do we stop it from hurting more?”

“I don’t think we can stop it from hurting. All we can do is keep going regardless of how much it hurts,” (Y/N) offered. “But if they get to go on with their lives after leaving us as they did, then we owe it to ourselves to do the same. The best way to make them pay is to show them our lives went on without them.”

“It’s just,” her voice croaked. “I don’t think I can. Actually, I don’t think I want my life to go on without Edward. I had never seen forever the way I saw it with him. Didn’t you feel like that with Carlise?” 

At the sound of his name, the knot in (Y/N)’s throat tightened. It had been months since her ears had listened to that combination of letters. Everyone around her had quickly picked up on the situation and they had more than willingly stopped mentioning his name.

But there Bella was, speaking it into existence as if it wasn’t the most bitter word to let pass through her tongue. She said them like the beautiful names they were, like the sweetness of them wasn’t overwhelming in her mouth. She spoke like a girl that was still in love and had no disdain for the person that had hurt her. And (Y/N) wondered how that could be.

His name was laced with so much anger and sadness that (Y/N) couldn’t even bring herself to even think about it. Yet, Bella had said it and it had felt like a punch to the gut. Because she had once also said his name with so much enchantment and care, and it made her miss those days. The days when she could call his name and instantly be filled with happiness and excitement.

“I did… I do,” she corrected. “But I don’t want to. That’s why I’ve been trying my hardest to move on, even if it’s just one day at a time. I want to get to the day where when I dream of my future he’s not there. I crave the morning I wake up and my heart doesn’t ache anymore, where I can trust someone else to tell me they love me and mean it. We gave them our hearts, Bella, and they threw it away like it meant nothing. I’m not telling you that you have to move on. But I am telling you that it’s the best idea.”

Bella simply nodded for a second and agreed when (Y/N) offered to get some pizza to fill the silence. Everything that (Y/N) had told her she agreed with, to an extent. If the Cullens weren’t coming back like it seemed they weren’t, then she wanted to take her life back in her control like (Y/N) had. But she couldn’t help the tiny drop of hope she held that they would return, and she could settle into their life as she had done once and fulfill the plans she had made with Edward.

As (Y/N) served herself pizza, Bella sat there, picking at the slice that was on her plate, the words slowly digesting into her system. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Anything.”

“If he had offered to turn you –before everything happened—if he had told you that he would have turned you and asked you to leave with them.” She stared deeply into (Y/N)’s eyes, her tears glistening in the rays of the morning. “Would you have done it? Would you have gone with him?”

“The rational side of me wants to say no. That I would have thought twice about leaving my family and friends again, that I would have given myself a few years to be human and experience life while my heart was still beating,” she chuckled, drying away tears she had not known were pooling until they fell down her cheeks. “But my romantic side, the side that was desperate to be in love, knows I would have agreed just if it meant that I would have him by my side for the rest of my life. I would have given up everything even for just a few years with him.”

“What if he came back? What if he came back and asked for another chance?” Bella was desperate. It was the first time she could ask these questions. The first time she could talk to someone that knew everything and could answer back. “Would you give it to him?”

“That’s a difficult hypothetical, Bella,” (Y/N) laughed. “I think there are too many variables at play for me to know if I would.”

“That’s because you’re thinking with your rational side,” Bella teased slightly, the semblance of a smile playing on her lips. “I’m asking your romantic side. Would that side want Carlisle back?”

(Y/N) kept quiet even though she knew the answer. It was hard to say it out loud. To admit that regardless of how destroyed he had left her that she would want him with every fiber of her being. That if tomorrow he reappeared that she would fall back into his arms and pick things up where they had ended. But it wasn’t fair to her, to the little progress she had made without him.

Still, she was being truthful. “The romantic side would gladly take him back,” she said sadly. “But it’s not just to the side that’s put in the work to not let that happen. What will it say about me that someone could hurt me in the way he did, and I welcomed him back into my life?”

“Oh,” was all Bella responded, her head falling as her skin flushed red.

“Would you take Edward back?”

“I would,” her voice peeped meekly. “I love him too much not to. But I wish I was like you. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

“It will still hurt, Bella. It’ll just be easier to act like it doesn’t,” (Y/N) shrugged. “Look, Bella, no one can tell you to move on. If it was that easy, we wouldn’t be here. But you need to at least take the first step. Staying in this room, waiting for the day things just change will not work. It’s on you to start a new journey.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “I know you’re right. It’s just so hard.”

“I know it is. If there’s anyone that knows, it’s me,” she smiled. “But you’re not alone. You have people around you that love and care for you. Let them.”

“I’ve pushed them away. I pushed everyone away.”

“The ones that truly care will still welcome you back. Just take it one day at a time, Bella. But take it out of this room.”

“Thank you, (Y/N). It’s comforting to have someone to talk to so openly about this. Things won’t change quickly, but I’m willing to give it a try.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” (Y/N) said, giving the girl a hug goodbye. “If you need anyone to talk to, don’t hesitate to call, Bella.”

“I will,” she smiled weakly. “Take care of yourself, (Y/N).”

“You too, Bella.” 

(Y/N) couldn’t believe she had confessed to everything she had worked to shove into the deepest corners of her mind. She didn’t want to admit the hold he still had on her. That at any second, he could waltz back into her life, and she would still be as in love with him as the day he had left. It was hard to let those words pass through her lips. Because once they were out, there was no way to sink them back in.  

It was strange and unnerving to hear herself say those words out loud. She had kept these thoughts deeply buried in her brain, scared to ever let them come out. Especially around Sam and Paul. Even if the Cullens had not been their natural-born enemies, she was sure they would have still hated them. More after their patriarch had broken her heart. Other than them, there was no one else she was close to that she could really talk to. They knew everything, and for her to be able to open up completely she needed people who knew everything.

Still, as much as she loved Sam and Paul, they were the least objective people in her life. They were genetically predisposed to not be objective. (Y/N) would go to them for everything else, just nothing that had to do with the Cullens.

But Bella was no better for her. Her scales were tilted toward them. If she took anything from her conversation with the Swan girl was that no matter what they had done, she would forgive them and sink back into their life as if nothing had happened. It was terrifying and just the smallest sliver of extraordinary. Her loyalty to the Cullens transpired her pain. Maybe she knew something (Y/N) didn’t.

As she neared her house, she started burying those thoughts deeper and deeper into her mind, afraid that they were visible on her face. Even if she knew how unrealistic it was –and that the only mind reader she knew was miles away—she couldn’t help the embarrassment that rushed to her skin in shades of red. And if they did, she knew they wouldn’t mention it. At least, not to her face. That much she could expect.

What she didn’t expect was to find Embry Call sitting on her porch. He wore a stressed look on his face, nights of little sleep evident on his face. The boy she knew had always been very happy, quiet but joyous. And though he seemed to be the same happy boy, there was a weight to him that was undeniable.

“Embry,” she called out as she got out of her car. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I guess,” he smiled forcefully. “Well, not exactly.” 

“Why don’t you come in, Em? It’ll be more comfortable to talk.” 

“Sure, thanks.” 

The boy quietly followed her, somehow trying to shrink his 6’4” frame. It was something he did ever since he shifted. The first time he had joined the pack after his first transformation, he had tried to sink into the background as much as he could. The last thing he wanted was to step on anyone’s toes, even if he had been told that he wasn’t.

(Y/N) directed them to the kitchen, quickly setting out drinks and food for the kid, knowing he’d definitely be hungry. “Help yourself to anything,” she said as she noted him sitting on his hands. “Mom still buys food like Sam and his friends come over to ransack our kitchen.” 

“Okay, uh, thanks.” 

“We’re not strangers, Embry,” she smiled kindly. “You can let loose with me.” 

“I’m sorry, it’s just I’m not used to being around other people that aren’t Jake and Quil.” 

“I get that.” She joined him at the kitchen table, sitting before him, a cup of water in her hand. She was all talked out for the evening, but she could see just how much he needed a friend at that moment. “So, what’s going on, kid?” 

“You know we’re only three years apart, right?”

“Still makes me older than you,” she laughed with him. “But, seriously, what’s up?” 

“Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m here,” he chuckled dryly. “I guess ever since I had my first shift I’ve been feeling kinda lonely. Lonely and confused. It took a couple of hours for my whole life to change and now I don’t really have anyone to talk to about it.”

“How are things at home?”

“Well, mom is always angry at me, but at least she’s stopped yelling. Though I don’t know if I like that better,” he responded sadly. She could see he was biting back tears. His lower lip was quivering and his eyes were pooling with water. “I know you weren’t here when it happened, but do you know Ms. Uley took everything?” 

“To this day they don’t really talk. But when I got here, I didn’t understand why my brother wasn’t home or why he and mom were fighting, or even why we couldn’t even spend time together. I knew he was hiding something, and I guess it hurt to think that he didn’t trust me enough to tell me whatever it was,” she recounted. “It’s a strange thing to watch from the outside. I mean, hearing rumors that my older brother, the man that basically took care of me when I was a kid, had started a gang and was recruiting other from the rez was astonishing. It wasn’t something I could even fathom.  But I don’t know how my mother felt when Saam started disappearing or when he moved out. She won’t talk to me about it.”

“He wanted to waive the silence rule for me,” Embry said sheepishly. “After the first week and seeing how hard it was at home, he told me I could tell my mom everything.”

“But you valued why it’s a secret,” she confirmed. "I understand that. And I also understand how lonely being part of the pack is. Especially coming into a place where you essentially know no one. But open yourself up to them. If you let them in, they will do the same. They’re your family now, Em.” 

“I know. I guess it’s just still all so new to me. I’ve been used to the same people my whole life; I’ve known only one truth my whole life, and it all changed.” 

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but would you ever ask your mom about who your dad is?”

“Don’t think I could ever ask without proving where the suspicions came from,” he shrugged. “Just like everyone here, I was under the impression that my dad was someone from the Makah tribe. She told me that much. But now…”

“That’s okay,” she smiled comfortingly. “But, Embry, I want you to know that regardless of what’s happening at home or with your friends, you’re not alone. You’ve got the pack and you’ve got me, okay? If there’s anything you don’t feel comfortable speaking to them, my door is always open. And if they’re ever giving you shit, I’ll put them in their place. They’re there for you, and so am I. I hope you know that.”

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he smiled brightly, a few tears falling down his outstretched cheeks. “It’s good to know I still have people I can lean on. You’ve always been nice to me, and I don’t know why.” 

“We all need a little kindness from time to time, Embry. I’m just doing my part in it.”

“Well, it’s greatly appreciated. And even if it doesn’t mean anything, I’m also here for you if you need someone to lean on.”

“It means a lot, Em,” she smiled. “More than you know.” 

The more she talked to the people that most needed it, the more she started to believe her own words. Maybe there was light on the other side of this mountain. Maybe (Y/N) would one day see the morning when the thought of him didn’t send a stake through her heart.

Next ->

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[spurious]

Your McShep fics are giving me life. I'm CRAVING McShep content recently - its so hard to discover a love for old fandoms that are now less active! Please send me all the great other McShep fics you stumble across, I've burned my way through your whole library

Oh my goodness!!!! This ask plus the one from a few weeks ago are really telling me I need to get back to doing fic rec posts regularly!!!!!

First of all thank you so much for your kind words about my fic 💖💖💖💖 honestly for me SGA fandom feels soooo active, even though I know it was an actual juggernaut back in the day lmao. BUT that means that there’s a MASSIVE backlog of stuff to read!!!! Just insane amounts of staggeringly good fics!!!!

And second of all you can check all my previous rec posts here: the tag is sometimes ficlets I’ve reblogged but also lots of links and lists in there!!

ANYWAY. Let me see if I can rustle up some new recs for you my friend! I have a couple of unposted recs in my notes so we’ll pop those in first:

Five People Who Know by hestia_lacey | ~4k, rated E

Five people who know exactly how John Sheppard feels about Rodney McKay.

Only read this if you’re prepared to have your heart stomped on, but ahhhhhhhh. The first part, with Jeannie, is definitely my favorite.

Wishes on a Wheel by waterfalliam | ~3.2k, rated T

The sun is gentle, faintly wrong against his skin. The wind whispers against his arms and neck that he’s alive and that counts for something, he’s never wholly alone, he still has himself—but it’s nothing like the sea breeze that feels like home.

Absolutely beautifully sad introspective Epiphany!John piece, dealing with his depression and feelings of abandonment, with a sweet ending 💖

Solitary by @esteefee | ~5k, rated M

Four days in solitary gives a guy time to think. Unless he's an idiot.

Aggggh the John voice in this is immaculate (as is to be expected from esteefee ofc). Sardonically funny with a soft and chewy emotional core that just...takes a little time and a little chipping away at to get to. But, you know, worth it.

Followed by two faves from this year’s sga secret santa, both of them variations on the theme of John and Rodney making up:

In the Dark of the Night by @hero-in-waiting | ~5.8k, rated M

The problem with arguments is that they never happen at a good time. Which is a to be expected given their nature. And the problem with trying to make up is, at least in the Pegasus galaxy, they come at an even worst time. Especially when John and Rodney get stuck off world, running from some locals who took a dislike to them immediately and five days after an argument that, in John's opinion, had started over nothing.

But at least they were together?

Love the concept of this one, love them being forced into life or death situations before being able to talk about their feelings, looooove the misunderstanding on Rodney’s part 🥰🥹

When I Think of All the Worries That People Seem to Find by @audioletter | ~2.3k, rated G

After ten years of being together, John acts like John and Rodney acts like Rodney.

Absolutely cried reading this I love it so much. The depth of knowledge that they have for each other after so long is so apparent in the best, most beautiful way.

Aaaand let’s round it out with a nice long one:

Inukshuk by murron | ~80k, rated M

A mission-gone-south isolates Rodney and John from the rest of the team. Forced to search for an Ancient outpost, they struggle to keep each other alive until the time their kidnappers prepare to sacrifice the one and purify the other.

This is absolutely a mcshep fic but I almost found that taking a backseat for me in my enjoyment of the way that the plot unfolds, the way that it’s written? Absolutely spellbinding work, I struggled to put it down.

[talaok]

People

this is whatever background I imagined:

Joel met the reader a while ago and now they do illegal shit together to get by, but some shit goes down on one of your runs out of the qz (i know this makes no sense I just wanted to write some sad shit ok)

warnings: angst but kinda happy ending

a/n: I'm not sure if posting this is a good idea, it feels very pathetic and personal, but here we are lol.

"I can't do it anymore Joel" you stared at your feet, your ruined shoes stained with the miles walked, with the things seen, with the people lost.

"I just can't"

"y/n-" he murmured, swinging the rifle onto his back and walking up to sit beside you.

"I know " you swallowed thickly "I know that you're gonna say that it gets better and that we will get away and that everything will be fine" you stumbled over your own words, still not looking at him "but what if it isn't?" your lip was trembling "what if it's not gonna be ok?" you said, "what if this is it?" you felt your eyes watering "what if this is all its ever going to be? just me and you risking our lives every day and for what?" you sighed "for a fucking battery?" you chuckled "for some pills?"

The wind howled outside, the wavering door creaking.

"I'm tired" your voice was trembling "I'm tired Joel" you gulped "this " you waved around the room, the dirty, musty room, you had found wandering outside of the qz "this isn't life Joel" you sniffled "this is a fucking limbo" you breathed out "this is- this is a trap, a - a cruel joke" you laughed bitterly, "we think we're the lucky ones, but I'm not so sure anymore," you said "maybe they were" you glanced at the not so distant corpse of an infected " at least they didn't have to see this," you dropped your head again "live this" you passed a hand through your hair "over and over again like it's fucking normal, like everything is ok"

A tear spilled from your eyes, and you raised your chin, looking up at him.

"Everything is not ok" you cried now "it's been years since everything was even remotely ok and I'm tired of people acting like this isn't crazy"

you gasped for air "look around Joel" you glanced around the room "Is this what you dreamed of when you were a kid?" you asked " When you were ten years old did you dream of one day having to hide in an abandoned building that doesn't even have a fucking piece of roof because fucking zombies were roaming outside? " you asked again "is this what you wanted?" he didn't move, not a single change in his worried, and yet stoic expression "because it isn't what I wanted" you murmured "I wanted to be a writer" you smiled sadly, thinking back at it "I wanted to write novels that touched people, I wanted to make people laugh, and cry and roll their eyes at stupid little words I had written on the pages"

"I didn't want this" you tried to hold back the sob creeping up your throat "I wanted to live"

"I spent so much time waiting for the right moment to start doing it, to start living, and I don't even know if I ever would have," you said sincerely "but I sure would have liked the chance,the possibility at least, instead of this"

"This prison" another tear down your cheek "instead of this shit" you huffed, dropping your hands to your knees.

"I'm sorry" he finally spoke "you're right," he said "I don't know that everything is gonna be fine, and yes, this is not normal, nothing about this is normal" he sighed looking around "but it's dangerous to think about it too much" his eyes were burning into yours "You can't just- you can't rationalize everything, not this at least" he said "you just have to accept it"

"how?"

"I don't know"

Your tired eyes fully took in his, still so strong, so sure, after everything still him.

"aren't you tired?" you asked but he didn't answer "Not of this " you signed at the room "of everything " you explained

"Sometimes" he answered

"and what do you do when you are?"

"I remember there are still some things worth living for"

"like?"

"Like the sunlight," he said "like the fresh air outside the qz" he paused a moment, looking hesitant "like people"

"people?" you raised an eyebrow, sniffling

"yes " he put an arm around you, bringing you into his chest "certain people"

You reached your arms around his torso, hugging him tightly "people" you whispered to yourself,

maybe that's all you needed after all,

just people,

certain people.

[pretty-prince-lulu]

The Fortress of Tathtatèrith (Plungedlaboured)

Is it finished? Nope, but I've done enough with it that you'll be able to get where I'm trying to go with it, so... here.

I'll put a readmore right here because this'll have more pictures than I have still-thriving brain cells.

Do bear in mind I've not actually been playing very long, and this is maybe the.... eighth? fortress? that I've kept from going up in flames long enough to have Something Going On.

Out of the gate was picking an embark. I've been trying to build a fortress primarily out of glass for a while and kept cocking it up or embarking somewhere that made it a nightmare, so I scoured the map of the realm of Romxah for the exact right place to do it.

Sand? Check. Nearby abandoned monasteries so we can acquire books? Check. Elves we can have that old sacred eternal Unsteady Peace with who come and count our leaves every spring like the wood narcs they are? Check. VOLCANO so I don't have to be at definite war with said elves while making the glass? Check-check-checkaroo. We're too far from the coast to actually have any of the ocean in our tile, which worked out to be vastly more unfortunate than I expected.

Starting out, I had it in mind that I wanted to make use of the transparency of the glass in the design itself, because that is Very Cool. I considered but ultimately omitted the inclusion of crystal glass into the main design because working with crystal glass makes me cry in real life. I planned to go with green glass as the majority material, with clear glass as the accent. I like the look of the result but clear glass is also, as it turns out, a wailing nightmare to keep in sustained production.

Approaching the main entryway is... this. (With current morale stats. And supplies. I cannot keep these people in meat I stg).

Now, obviously, this is sort of cool, but not in any way finished. You'll be seeing that theme coming up a lot. I had planned to involve statues of the Founding Seven Dwarves in some way, but I'm still kind of batting around the actual execution because most ideas would provide goblins a means by which not to get jet-propelled into the Fanta. I like goblins landing in the Fanta.

The slits contain serrated green glass discs, ten apiece. This generally has the effect of turning enemies into a fine pink mist (see: the pieces of said mist still awaiting cleanup). The Draltha are on their way out with the Routed Roads squadron, a soldier team that I primarily send out to abandoned monasteries to cart off the books. I'm not sure I recommend them as war animals. They're long-lived but I also have to remember to graze them when they come back, and then unpasture them so they don't sadly sit there with the chicken leg icon above their heads making me feel all guilty.

Zooming out a little as we enter the doorway:

These rooms are for The Great Citadels, my 'primary' soldier squadron. Each statue is of that dwarf (and their spouse if they have one at the time of stone-casting). The other sets are of each soldier's war animal, and the blank engraved spot will be for the second war animal I have not yet finished harvesting the alunite to immortalize in said stone. I know it's not important in the scheme of things, but I really like to track who owned what animal. It makes my heart happy. A couple of the giant war dingos have died of old age, which I didn't realize could start happening from age six or so and I'm very sad about it. I thought I read they got 15-20 years but I must have been mistaken.

They got dedicated and specific rooms because I hate, absolutely hate hate vomit hate, how they all get unassigned from their fucking bedrooms after being sent out. No joke, it makes me think twice about dispatching them, so this at least makes it clear to me who ought to be returning to which fucking space.

Down this road, with its perpetually unfinished walls and floor, lies the barracks proper and the road to the foundry. What are those statues and slabs, you ask? Every time a forgotten beast or dangerous creature that involves a popup warning dies in our territory, I like to immortalize it. I just like that you can do that. I think of it as a running history of our land.

To the right there is an access shaft to the mist generator, which is not working, and I am salty about it to the point of tears. This map has no wind. ZERO wind. I did not realize it was a possibility until I had already built all the fucking infrastructure so I'm working on... alternative means of power. But it stands now it's sort of just a Circle of Embarrassment.

The foundry's main focal export is glass- obviously- with its quantum stockpile for random bits of metal coming out of melted down goblin shields. The draltha there are not war animals, but instead have a different very important job- to eat all the mushrooms that grow on the sand. It appears that we can't gather sand where the mushrooms grow, and this is the only situation in which the eternal Snack Hunger of my army of draltha is coming in actual handy. God knows these are a bugger to feed otherwise sometimes.

Given the sheer amount of stuff needing constant melting down I am seriously considering expanding this foundry. There's little space remaining to the south before I hit the edge of the map so I may add more workshops between here and the barracks. I am hesitating mostly on pain of them being on different elevations and me being terrified of fucking up the magma circuit expansion. I know me. I fuck things up. And this is a very hot thing to fuck up.

Heading down the hatch and to the north, we have the trading depot. This is one of the most unfinished parts of the whole place so far unfortunately.

It will EVENTUALLY have detailed rings of glass flooring and perhaps dedicated tables and chairs and stockpiles, but right now it is the emergency draltha feeding tunnel featuring the Barrel Hoard and the accidentally wild-caught elk birds I'm trying to get some offspring out of so I can sheepishly return them to the wild and they can stop pecking our shoelaces in vengeance. I also have tentative plans for a statue-lined road instead of the paved path we currently have outside, which would be both 1) pretty and 2) an early detection system for the werebeasts knocking stuff over.

To the south we have another mist generator. It doesn't work and has redundant gears and materials. We have not finished prettying it up for its eventual functionality. We call this the fail hole. We go in here to cry.

Here we have the rooms of the Duchess, the mayor, the manager and the bookkeeper. Here, and in the hall, you see the first instances of what I was trying to do with the transparency. The glass floors show what's happening downstairs, and if I layer the patterns, starts doing really interesting things indeed- as well as creating an effect that is uniform, but at the same time varied and dynamic.

Further to the right:

The prisons and the quarters of the captain of the guard, with our stockpile of cages and assorted animals being trained. The idea is that any visitors are almost guaranteed to pass through the guard's corridor, which makes it easier for me to forbid doors and lock them up until dear lady Sibrek Amudalåth Ebalfer (Sibrek Thunderbolts the Revered Beast) finishes... dealing with them. She's our captain of the guard, dungeon master and hammerer. Judge, jury, executioner. A sweetheart, really, despite that. You might spot her around- she's wearing a breastplate but no other armour. That's not an accident- this way I can actually see exactly where she is and identify her fast in the crowd. I really hate it when I forget to arrest people. This happens a lot. ADHD and all... so I have to give myself the best odds of managing to lock up the fuckers.

Onto the tavern!

The Mechanical Cake was my first real major attempt at designing the multi-level glass details. The idea was that the 'cream' would get a slight spiralling effect with the furniture on the floor beneath, with the middle layer of clear-glass cream also having some shading because the construction finishes partway through it (this is RIGHT at the end of the map! I'm corner to corner here!). The spoke at top right connects... to things. Things that don't fucking work.

Every statue is also specifically OF something that is either important to the city or took place and is something we want to remember. Mostly this is in the form of animals- a few wild creatures that earned names through good deeds (or misdeeds, in the case of Omalurush the giant wren). The manera is the one who wrestled that forgotten beast. The draltha is simply a celebratory piece of the animal once we tamed a few, as is the dingo. The cat statue is a custom design entirely, made to celebrate Stâkud Wethandle, the only male cat we had on embark. He was not interested in helping us have kittens, so we had to buy another male a few years later when I actually realised.

Down south is our kitchen which is SUPPOSED to be shaped like a gear and spoke and NOT like a penis. I feel the need to point out the meals on the fucking floor and the HUGE NUMBER OF BARRELS WE VERY MUCH HAVE. I don't know why they won't use the barrels. It's doing my head in. It doesn't matter how many I make, they just sit around being tube of empty failure. I'm convinced this is a rudeness directed at me specifically.

DESCENDING DOWNSTAIRS FOR ANOTHER TIME.

The hospital over its water reservoir, the stone and gemstone workshop, and more dogs! Yay! The floors and walls are, as always, not yet finished. Other stuff IS finished. I swear. It's not all like this.

To the north of this stairwell:

The woodworking, craftworking and tailoring suites. Tailoring in particular could do with more space (and I DID use up all that leather... why do they need new underpants so often?). I'll have to think about doing that in a way that doesn't throw off this whole... thing.

OH SHIT, I FORGOT TO GO UPSTAIRS FROM THE ENTRY HALL. Uh. Brief deviation time GO

The underground processing facility with our very important Farm Draltha. Another one of the most unpolished sections but it sure is one I spend a lot of time staring at trying to figure out why I'm out of booze again. Featuring the wildly akimbo disconnected wooden failures of machinery that doesn't work, and the little corner notification about how many forgotten beasts I'm ignoring with ALL my might.

Scrolling up is the paddock proper.

This is also, at this point, pretty wildly off-brief because I keep having to expand it and don't have time to do that in a design-preserving way. I will eventually figure out a good form to contort this into so that it looks like it was intentional and not just sort of... built around trees and things.

Note the single giant elephant that I had zero plans for but absolutely HAD to buy because who WOULDN'T buy the one elephant.

We scroll up to reveal... a plain glass ceiling... and UNEXPECTED RUBE GOLDBERG IDIOTIC EVIL TOM AND JERRY BULLSHIT!

I rebuilt the bridge from the retracting version to make it the kind that launches things upward instead. Usually, those things go straight into the lava, but occasionally they survive and make it onto my rooftop. Whereupon they activate my trap card, and the serrated spinning glass discs make their debut as belles of the ball and then it rains feet and happiness.

um. anyway. BACK TO THE MANUFACTURING HALL.

Here you see the guildhalls, zoomed out.

All technically unfinished. I plan at least a few token workshops with desks and tables to emulate the demonstrations they so frequently hold in there. The displays in the back contain artifacts- specifically, exactly enough artifacts to make the room value sufficient to qualify as grand guildhalls. Zooming in, however, we'll find evidence of one of my more useless passion projects!

Varying numbers! The water ripples and flows! It does, admittedly, lose something from a still image. The idea is to provide an interesting design-in-motion effect beneath these halls, mostly because I never know what to actually DO with guildhalls that isn't just... you know, production.

Some of the detail in those channels DOES get lost in the water flow. This is what it looks like dry.

To the right of the halls is my secret shame.

The top section of what was SUPPOSED to be a perpetual motion machine, and instead has poop everywhere and generates no power. There is an anterior section below that is much the same. I THINK I know what the problem is but it's going to take a lot of work to correct and I kind of want to explode in flames before doing that.

Going down again, we have the cistern to the water system, the first section of residential accommodation, and the first chapter of the pet cemetery.

For some reason, I didn't realise until THIS fortress that you could bury pets, and that you were SUPPOSED to do that. Not kidding, I abandoned the last fortress once I realized I hadn't been doing it. Shit like this matters to me, so every residential floor going down will have a section cut out for the pets. I also include a slab and a statue of that pet, which so far is mostly of that pet being adopted, but in the case of the turkey it's 'that time the turkey fell over'. It made me laugh so I let it stay even though it throws off the design pattern.

There's about 10 residental floors beneath all the other stuff and they all are designed off this same pattern. Eventually, they'll get flooring. I swear to god. I'm at year SIXTEEN and we still don't have all the floors. Fuck me.

DOWN ANOTHER FLOOR!

The barracks of the Routed Roads. Unfinished and looking decidedly spoonish. This is the last barracks I've built- which, yes, means I only have two military squadrons. It's been enough so far because I've been Bridge Discing All who Cross Me. I know damn well it won't suffice long term, but for now I'm enjoying spoon life with occasional desperate use of Dfhack.

TO THE RIGHT

The All-Faiths Chapel (The Mauve Fold) with some pet graves and a dwarf funerary annex! I may have murdered someone in the unused cairn!

I vacillated between designing this temple as a butterfly, a clover or a filigree emblem so I sort of did all three at the same time. The stripes layered beneath the swirls are not just ornamental water this time, but that's for the next floor!

The two dead dwarves were vampires and kept drinking my fucking children. I DFhacked them back to life and I'm not ashamed. DON'T DRINK MY FUCKIN KIDS.

on the south side of this corridor:

The outpost liason's quarters. Admittedly built in a bit of a hurry. I wasn't expecting the Royal Entourage yet. There's still some ore in there.

BUT HE IS NEXT DOOR TO:

The Bronze Vault.

Designed to resemble a heart, with tables running down the ventricle in an effort to create a sort of shadowed effect. I expected to need to build more bookshelves. Have you ever looked up how many books they hold? Holy shit. You could probably make do with one if you weren't a crazy person. As is most shelves do in fact contain just one book. Everyone leaves them on the fucking chairs. I guess our asses like to read.

Orbitting the lava and to the right:

The king's quarters!

I was going for a sort of semi-transparency chessboard effect here (I just noticed that door I missed fUUUCK). The queen consort has her own tomb because she is also a baroness and required her own separate one, so I added it onto the design as best I could. Why do they need so many weapon and armor stands anyway? I never see anyone who asks for one using any of them....

AND LAST OF ALL, BECAUSE I'M NOT GOING TO SHOW 19 FLOORS OF IDENTICAL BEDROOMS, THIS

MORE pet graves, and this. A stem and leaves, with artifacts in the tips.

I know you don't need a temple to every individual member of your pantheon of gods, but honestly, it doesn't feel correct not to build it, does it? They're not used very often, and mostly just have Megadogs playing in them, but I still felt like they were important to build.

Starting at top left and going down:

The Earthen Chapel, where we worship the Diamond Rocks, a deity who appears as a female dwarf and holds domain over minerals. The Secretive Chapel, dedicated to Betan, appearing as a female dwarf and governing silence and dreams. I'd probably worship this one if I was a dwarf. The SANCTUARY OF OBLIVION. The edgelord chapel for Vesh the Fated, who takes the form of a skeletal male dwarf. His statue features Atir Releasechannel, an undead dwarf who worshipped him ardently about 1000 years ago (presumably for feeling a kinship?). I ought to comb the legends file and found out what happened to him. As an aside, this feels like a common name for a god of this sphere. My last fortress had Vesh the Fated Death. The Cathedral of Aquamarines, dedicated to Onget Canyonambers. The weird cube sculpture is apparently actually of Melbil Flankboulders being cursed to vampirism. Wonder if this one had anything to do with the pair I have in the graveyard. Onget presides over jewels and takes form of a male dwarf. The Helmed Abbey, worshipping Arban Healergates, a god shaped as a male dwarf and who is the god of fortresses. He's depicted engraving in his statue.

To the right side of the stem! The Silvery Sanctum, the as-yet-artifactless temple dedicated to Zim the Turquoise Spines, a female dwarf. The goddess of mountains. The Temple of Taxing (???) for Limar the Ivory Diamond. A male dwarf god, who governs… wealth. Ah. I see. A divine Ted Dibiase, only with presumably less 'going to jail for massive fraud on the needy', but presumably the same number of dollar signs on his championship belt. The Submerged Cathedral, appropriately dedicated to the goddess of water, Kogan (Not to be confused with Betan, even though I absolutely do). The Sanctuary of Playing, for Lun Dashedtop the Courageous Justice. The goddess of the sky and the wind, who takes the form of a female dw…

she's a giant bat. WHY ARE THEY ALL DWARVES BUT SHE'S A BAT and, uh, last one: The Cathedral of Avalanches for Uzol irongravel the Amethyst. Male dwarf god of metals.

and I will stop this here. enjoy the mental image of our eight perfectly normal dwarf gods, one skeletal god, and one who is a BAT for NO REASON

[dirtytransmasc]

What if Miles didn't save his dad and his universe collapsed anyway.

It'd happen so fast, one minute he's rushing to his dad and the next he's sprawled across the ground, shoved off course by someone.

(Miguel is an option but I like the idea it's just some random Spiderman.)

Miles 'canon' events happens but his universe still glitches, half of it falling into the Spot's holes as it does as the villain becomes more and more unstable.

1610 collapses in front of everyone, swallowed up by the ever growing pitch black holes, leaving only Miles Morales as it's lone survivor.

to say the boy would be a mess, would be more than an understatement, it wouldn't even come close enough to smell, let alone touch, the way Miles is feeling. but he wouldn't just be sad or gutted or hopeless or even broken after losing everything; he'd be angry.

if he allowed himself to be dragged from the glitching, fading rubble of his now barren dimension, he would rip HQ apart, piece by piece. he'd scream and cry and break down, his abilities turned up to 110, his electricity flowing out him without any control, lashing out at anyone who tried to invade his space, let alone tried to touch him or stop him.

I think he would come pretty close to taking down Miguel, he'd defiantly pin him, using his enhanced reflexes and sheer surprise to get the upper hand, before just snapping. he'd let loose on Miguel, physically yes, but he would scream at him. he'd shove his stupid canon theory back into his face, begging for an explanation; if he was supposed to let his dad die, if he was forced to, than why did he lose everything anyway?

he'd leave Miguel bloody, even in his fury, he won't kill him, he can't do it, but he will make him suffer. he wants answers, he wants so many answers, answers to questions he doesn't even know he has, and he needs Miguel for those.

once he burns up his anger and cries out his sadness, he's left numb and empty, frequently returning to his dimension to sit amongst what little remains of his home. it doesn't really hit him at first that everything is gone, he knows it is, but he just can't accept it, his mom, his dad, Ganke, his friends, the cashier at the bodega, all of them, they can't be gone. he didn't even get to say goodbye.

part of him knows, deep down, that he should have saved his dad, he should have been allowed to try, that they would be here if he had just gotten to try. call it insanity, desperate attempts at coping, grasping at straws, spidey senses, intuition, some higher intervention and knowledge, he has no fucking idea, he just knows, and it only fuels his anger.

he stops coming out of his "room" at HQ, stops letting people in, not even Pav and Hobie who have never wronged him, who were always on his side, let alone the others, who at one point or another abandoned him or saddled against him. he stops in general, stops eating, stops sleeping, stops trying to distract his mind with things like music. he loses it a few more times, tearing up whatever furniture he had been given to make up for his lack of a home, before turning to laying on the floor, looking up at the blank ceiling for hours, ignoring any of the desperate pleas from outside his door.

he cringes when he realizes he's just becoming Miguel. he ignores the thought. tries to at least.

he lies there and withers away until he can no longer fight the others off, till he's forced to let them take care of him, forced to listen to their apologies and their "it'll be ok"'s. he honestly doesn't care; everything that ever truly mattered to him is gone or tainted, he's lost his world, his people, his family, he lost his friends, he lost his purpose. he just floats through life, accepting that he's just gonna turn into someone like Miguel, cold and closed off, not really living, but not dead, and he's "ok" with that, more so, he doesn't have the care nor energy to be more than that anymore. he accepts his fate, for once, cause its clear that trying to do anything else only get him and the people he loves hurt.

[the-haunted-office]

The Ruined Office - Episode 1

Thursday is no stranger to other Offices.

With the way hers is connected to and heavily influenced by the In-Between, she's been to dozens. Offices identical to her own, before all the renovations were done. Offices sporting different layouts. Offices flooded with water. Offices encased in fire. Offices literally turned upside down. Offices literally turned inside out. Offices with walls pulsating with what looked like real, living, actual veins. Offices that were... actual offices full of people who were just trying to do their jobs, leaving Thursday in the very awkward position of trying to see her way out the front door.

This one is the very first ruined Office she's ever been to.

Not that she's never heard of them. She's heard of plenty, and that's because she knows who ruined them. She knows their Story, as it is her own - or very nearly was before she derailed it.

There's something uncanny about being in one of them, though. It's distinctly different than having heard of them, or even being in her own when she was in the midst of ruining it alongside her ghostly alternate. That's who was doing all the ruining, you see. Doomsday. She didn't come by that name from nowhere, after all.

The inside of this Office is utterly gutted. The ugly orange carpet is ripped and torn more than it’s not, and where it isn’t ripped and torn it’s stained and pocked with what appear to be massive patches of burn marks. These burn marks are further accentuated by smoke damage that crawls up the walls and clots the ceiling in puffs of black and gray, at least where it’s still intact.

Where the ceiling isn’t intact, bundles of wires and cords dangle down like intestines ripped out of some great animal, left there to rot. Broken, uneven piece of ceiling tiles lay strewn about, and the floor is littered with shattered glass and filament from what used to be the overhead florescent lights.

Those are out too, and the entire Office is utterly dark. Every cubicle and desk and printer and wall and filing cabinet, everything, is lying in ruin. Not a single piece of the Office has been left untouched. Everything is… just broken and ruined and it’s kind of sad. It looks like a tornado came through and chewed up and spat out everything in its path.

Thursday can remember how her Office looked very much the same when Doomsday first appeared. How she had told her she was going to die in a month. How she, Thursday, had felt knowing that not only was she going to die, that everyone would abandon her, how she would die alone, suffering and in pain. Herself had told her so, that it had happened 999 times before, so how could she believe otherwise? Destroying the Office felt sensible and cathartic at the time.

Burn it all to the ground.

Everywhere glass and debris is crunching underfoot as Thursday walks around, trying her best to tread carefully lest she fall through the floor as that's rotting away too with the rest of everything else. She can't help but wonder which Thursday this Office belonged to, or if this actually is one of the Offices Doomsday visited. It's possible that it isn't.

That possibility is all but instantaneously erased when two pairs of black hole eyes suddenly loom out of the shadows at her, rearing up on what appear to be white blankets draped over two five-foot-pairs of stilts. They look like some kid’s idea of silly ghost costumes, except these two kids aren’t holding out Halloween buckets and asking for candy, and one of them is baring a ridiculously large mouth full of needle-sharp teeth at her.

At least until they all at once seem to recognize her, and then the teeth get folded away neatly.

Thursday had only taken a couple of steps back in very understandable surprise, although now she's pretty sure she recognizes these two creatures as well.

A trio of voices all go off at once, two in Thursday's head, Thursday's own spoken aloud:

"Cyrus? Aurora? Is that you?" Thursday says.

"Thursday?" one of the Nightcrawlers inquires, his voice unmistakably identical to the one Thursday knows as Cyrus.

"How can that be you?" asks the other, whom Thursday recognizes as Aurora.

All three voices are laced with utter surprise.

While Thursday understands that these two are alternates of the Cyrus and Aurora she knows, this Cyrus and Aurora aren't quite sure what they are seeing. They think they might be seeing a ghost.

They rush to meet this apparent ghost to embrace her.

Having known what likely happened to their Thursday here, Thursday allows it, for as long as they need.

[ala-baguette]

WIP Word Search Game

Thanks for the tag, @evesaintyves!  I searched through my Work-in Progress folder and wow.  Way to highlight to me that I have a WIP problem.  Gotta get some of these out into the world!  my words: sick | ghost | whisper | sweet | face

Sick- [Found (tentative title), a WIP one-shot companion piece to Knowing Where to Look] Mrs Weasley was on one of her backing stints. No surprises there. No one had the heart to tell her that they were all sick to death of eating turnovers and shortbread and Chelsea buns and lemon drizzle. They all continued to take whatever she gave them without complaint. Because at least baking seemed to keep her brain busy enough to stop her from crying. For a bit anyway.

Ghost- [Untitled Luna Lovegood Left Behind one-shot WIP] “Daddy?” Luna did not look down to see if he was listening.  She didn’t need to.  He was always there when she needed him.  So her fingers did not still, brushing the long red strokes of Ginny’s hair across the ceiling. “Hm?” came Dad’s response.  The soft clinks continued, and Luna doubted he’d looked up from his work. “Why do we never talk about Mummy?” The soft sounds of Dad’s tools stilled then.  There was a long pause.  Luna felt pain and sorrow in that silence.  Felt the comforting ghost of Mum’s presence in the room tugged swiftly away, leaving an empty loneliness in its wake.  They said black was the colour of protection, but Luna didn’t much like that.  She instead dipped her brush in blue and added a cluster of cornflowers to frame Ginny’s face.  It was the meaning she assigned that was far more powerful than superstition.  “What brought this on?” Dad asked at last “I don’t know… I suppose I’ve been missing her lately.  I would like to talk to her.  Tell her about my friends.  About all the amazing things I saw in the Department of Mysteries.  And all the terrible things I saw there.  Tell her about the Christmas party I went to with Harry.  And about the walk around the lake I took with Ginny.  It makes me sad sometimes that I can’t tell her about those things.  Sad that I lost so much time with her.” Her father was silent for a moment more, then he said, “I’ve lost time before.  It’s always in the last place you look for it.”  And the sounds of his tool continued. Luna paused to consider these words quietly.  Then nodded, satisfied. She took up another brush and added a few tiny yellow buttercups among the cornflowers.

Whisper- [Unbuttoned, unpublished and abandoned fic for the teeny tiny Sevenwaters fandom (my one and only time writing outside of the HP fandom, and wowza we're delving deep into the archives with this one. Last time this document was modified was in 2010!)] She reached up, and brought his lips to hers and kissed him softly.  Lovingly.  And like a whisper on the wind, he heard his name upon her lips.  It hurt to open his eyes again, knowing that he would be back on the rocks and there would be no green-eyed beauty looking back at him with adoration.  It hurt, but he forced himself to do so.  For what he wanted did not matter.  He was her protector.  Whatever happened, he was there to ensure her safety.  No matter the cost to his heart.

Sweet- [Untitled Parvati Patil Left Behind one-shot WIP] “Ugh.  Two whole weeks of my parents fawning over Perfect Padma.”  Sitting up straight, she batted her eyelashes, plastered a soppy sweet expression on her face, and grasped her hands together over her heart.  Adopting a high-pitched eager voice, she cried, “Oh yes, Mother dear!  Please let me help you with dinner.   Just as soon as I finish the homework for the twelve OWL courses I’m taking, clean the bathroom, and work up a budget for the Charms Club, which you may remember I’m now treasurer of.”  She let her hands drop to her lap and slumped back into her seat.  “Suck up.” “Oh, come off it,” Lavender said, shaking splayed fingers back and forth to encourage the varnish to dry faster.  With each shake of the wrist, her colour-changing nail polish changed hue wildly in confusion.  “Padma’s not that bad.  You’re exaggerating.” “Easy for you to say.  You aren’t sisters with her.  You don’t get compared to her in every little thing that you do!”

Face- [Knowing Where to Look, upcoming chapter] They were very close now, practically toe-to-toe.  He was not a tall man—half a head shorter than Gawain-- but he raised his chin and met Gawain’s eye defiantly, and he struck Gawain as anything but short.  The silence in the kitchen was deafening as they stared at each other.  Gawain felt the blood drain from his face.  His heart was pounding, his breath coming short and shallow.  But he kept his expression determinedly blank.

I find myself often hesitant to engage in these chain activities because my community is so small and I'm not on Tumblr enough to know who has has already taken part in this. So instead of tagging anyone specific, I will just offer an open invitation to anyone who wishes to take part. Tag, you're it! Your words are: Lost | Glimmer | Fall | Soft | Breath

[ardentpoop]

sometimes when i’m sad and unmotivated i spoil my own wips to see if anyone will bite. so here’s a little piece of this 🥴

“You ready?” Lawrence asks after a moment, cupping Adam’s cheek, staring searchingly into his eyes. 

Adam bites his lip. “Mm-hm.” 

The cold of the corridor washes over Adam as he waits for Lawrence to lock the front door, the jangling of his keys piercing the oppressive quiet alongside the muttered curses dropping from Lawrence’s lips as he fucks it up a couple times. 

Adam’s fingers are tucked into Lawrence’s coat pocket while both his hands are occupied with the keys, and he pokes Lawrence’s thigh through the wool. “Relax, Larry.” Lawrence hates it when he calls him that. “I’m not gonna have a meltdown just standing here. Or, like, get snatched away by some twisted old freak with a bondage kink. What’re the odds of that happening a third time?” 

“Adam,” Lawrence says, exasperated. He does that a lot, uses Adam’s name like it’s an obscenity; a vehicle for everything he can’t or won’t put into words. 

“Lawrence,” Adam says, mimicking his tone. It doesn’t quite carry the same weight. 

He holds Lawrence’s hand again, and they set off for the elevator at the end of the hall. 

The ride down to the lobby is blessedly uneventful, just the two of them sharing body heat and Adam’s stomach doing that uncomfortable floaty thing as they go down. He feels a little bit like an alien experiencing the wonders and terrors of human civilization for the first time. Six and a half months, Lawrence had told him. Crazy. But then, he isn’t unaccustomed to losing long stretches of time to the insatiate black hole of his brain. At least now he has Lawrence to keep the apartment clean and stock the fridge and remind him to take his meds, and touch him when he needs to be grounded, and tell him what’s going on in the world beyond his gilded cage. The elevator dings, depositing them into the abandoned lobby. 

Lawrence tugs his hand free of Adam’s in favor of placing the same palm at the small of his back, using it to guide him through the double doors that Adam hadn’t seen since they moved in. The night air feels sharp on Adam’s face; its frigid lips kissing his cheeks; and there’s so much more sound than Adam is used to, humming and trilling and whooshing. He suddenly misses his earbuds; recalling endless walks from his past life that were made tolerable only by the industrial metal and hardcore punk crashing in his ears. He presses closer to Lawrence, who curls his fingers against his spine. I’m here. 

They stop at the end of the sidewalk, the lobby doors still visible past the rows of sleeping cars glittering under the streetlights. 

“You’re doing good,” Lawrence says softly, lifting Adam’s chin with his index finger. 

Adam takes a mental photograph of his face; heart-achingly kind and caring and so handsome like this, the pale light picking out the multiplying threads of silver in his hair, his sky-blue eyes glowing with a warmth that repels the winter chill. He doesn’t stop Adam when he pushes up to kiss him, simply wrapping his arms over Adam’s back and allowing him to stake his claim.

“Adam,” Lawrence intones, once Adam has reluctantly torn himself away; pressing his fingers to his own mouth and staring openly at the pink flush he’s left on Lawrence’s lips and the high points of his cheeks. 

“Fuck,” Adam says, with feeling. 

Fuck! I’d eat you alive if you’d let me.

He probably would, is the thing. He would let him.

[akahellcat-moved]

I believe I said I would write a very long comment about Days in Violet a while ago so better late than ever. Get ready cause this might be long. And scatterbrained.

Let me tell how much of a good thing it is that I found this story and you took a break from writing it when they had already kissed. Especially since they weren’t in a good place before the lake scene. The anguish, the angst, the almost tragedy. At least with the happy chapter, if you stopped writing it, I could pretend that it had a happy ending, you know? This storied would have pLagUEd my mINd like you would not fucking believe. I mean it still does but at least not in an anguished way.

It also helped that I looked up Boston Marriage just to double check and the definition was “historically, the cohabitation of two wealthy women, independent of financial support from a man”. So I’m assuming there better be a happy ending. But also “wealthy” 👀👀?

But also I found the playlist! Which is great because I listen to music instead of thinking actual thoughts. The song From Eden? Chef’s kiss. It is now one of my favorite songs to exist. The song in relation the story? Double Chef’s kiss. I don’t know if you went that deep when you were choosing the songs, but the in-depth analysis I could give on the lyrics in relation to the story?? If it was possible to send a word doc through tumblr I might. There are other song choices to praise but that’s the one that’s sticking out right now.

May I also praise you in Yelena’s decision to wear men’s clothes? I think we definitely her decision to not give a flying fuck about what people care about her clothes and it works for her. We all saw it in Hawkeye when she wore a fur jacket, an I Love New York Tshirt, and an abundance of chain necklaces. If her clothing style is a little out there in modern times I can totally see her breaking the norm back then. In anyone else I feel like my reaction to both eras of dress would be “weird but you do you boo”, but then on Yelena: insert the Lady Gaga “amazing, show-stopping”meme.

I also love your characterization of Yelena and Kate. Yelena’s out see she’s seen some of the worst in humanity and I think you captured her sadness/world-weariness that we see in canon. Kate also has this almost innocent or light that Yelena is drawn to and falls in love with.

Sorry for the long, long comment! I just want Kate to abandon her mother and run away with Yelena and live happily ever after in New York. Is that too much to ask? I can’t wait for the next update but also no pressure, live your life. I will literally wait however long (though preferably within the next decade or at least year).

Please never apologize for the long comments! This message gave me LIFE.

Let me start off by saying that all that you pointed out was intentional from the get go. The reason why it's been now a year since I wrote anything DiV related is because I got stuck in trying to make the last 1/3 of the story as deliberate and as thought out as everything so far.

I did stop at that exact point because I wouldn't bear it to stop at an angsty point because I am a reader as well as a writer and I wouldn't have wanted to leave the people who read my fics hanging. I mean I still have but there is that 'soft' happy semi-ending there to tide you all over until I pick it up again.

Yelena's choice of clothes is definitely a nod to her going against the grain in canon and this was the best way to show it in DiV setting. Kate being a huntswoman = archer. The prep for this fic lasted MONTHS while I wanted to make all pieces of the puzzle fit together neatly and I am glad it's noticeable!

As far as the music goes, every single song and its lyrics have been put there intentionally, because they follow the story. If you listen to the songs towards the end, you can gauge where the story will go without many spoilers.

Finally, Kate is already wealthy with an untapped potential in anything flower-related and Yelena is already building her reputation as a tailor so if they get out of their little town... who knows what can happen ;)

PS - I love From Eden. It's such a DiV Kate x Yelena song. If you want to share your thoughts on it, I am here to listen!

[piercethewon]

⚔️Kingslayer.

4 — The caged pigeon. || wc: 2,8k.

ㅤ

—Are you completely sure that you can trust that Sunghoon person? You don’t even know him— your brother asked as he scattered more pumpkin breadcrumbs on the grass for the pigeons to eat. It was the day after king Lee’s funeral, and Sunoo had practically dragged you to accompany him to sit on his favorite bench under a big oak tree to hear your explanation as to why prince Riki and you had abandoned the church hall during prayer.

You mindlessly swung your feet, looking at a particularly small pigeon that stared at the bigger ones as they ate all the bread —Riki told me that Sunghoon is a trustable young man and that he would make sure that no one suspects us—. It was true, and you were more than glad that the prince offered to take full responsibility for the aftermath of your little escapade; it had been his idea, after all. You watched as the little pigeon tried to approach the others to take a bite of the pumpkin-flavored treat, but everything was gone before it could even make its way through the bigger birds; you could relate so much to its helplessness.

Sunoo clicked his tongue, a gesture you interpreted as him not believing a word of what you were saying —Oh, really? And how exactly is he planning to do that?—. Your silence gave away that you had no idea how to answer his question —Sister… I said this before, and I stand by my word: you need to be more careful about your image now. What would the other royal families think if they found out you and Riki were alone by yourselves?—.

—But we were not alone! The entire town was gathered at the plaza!— you said, almost regretting raising your voice at him, but he was getting on your nerves with his implications, because just as Riki had said that one night, it is not as if both of you kissed or did anything imprudent, it was just an innocent walk around the city… why was it so hard for your brother to understand? —Also, you know how fast rumors spread between the townspeople, if anyone had found it weird or suspected that something was going on between the prince and me, we would have found out through our servants by now!—.

—Sister…— he watched as you stood up the bench, scaring the pigeons away in the process.

—Listen, brother…— you cut him off, not being in the mood for getting scolded again —Just because you are a coward, too afraid of popular opinion to turn down your royal duties just this once and follow your heart to pursue that girl from the market, does not mean that I, too, am scared of spending time with the person I like…— you were not meant to say the last part out loud, but the damage was done now and Sunoo opened his mouth in disbelief at your sudden confession.

You stared at each other for a few seconds before your brother cleared his throat —Just… do not let anyone find out how you got that ring— he pointed with his chin at the silver piece with the pink crystal that reflected the sunlight with a lovely glow.

—Is that all you are going to say?— you watched with disappointment painting your face as he stood up from the bench and used his hands to shake off a few crumbs that had fallen on his black pants; at least the small pigeon could finally eat some pumpkin bread.

Sunoo smiled at you, but not enough to make his cheekbones rise —What else am I supposed to say, sister? You are right, I’m a complete coward. I’m glad, and a little jealous, that the person you are supposed to get married to seems to be of your liking.— he bowed his head slightly —Sorry for bothering you again. I hope everything goes well between you two—. His smile was not enough now to mask the sadness that flooded his eyes.

You held his hand in yours in an attempt to comfort him, but his expression gave away how he was long drowned in sorrow —Brother, it is not too late yet, you can still talk to our father— you squeezed him gently —you will never know if something possible until you try your best to make it happen…—.

—Y/N…— were those tears forming at the corners of his eyes? —I told her already, about my wedding… that was the last time I will ever see her— you could not believe your ears, why was he giving up so easily?

The arrival of one of the king’s messengers suddenly interrupted the sibling talk. Sunoo quickly dried his eyes and you stared at the man with alarms ringing in your head; were you speaking too soon earlier? Had your father found out about what took place yesterday? The servant bowed and took a moment to catch his breath, oh, it was an urgent message. —My princess, the heir of the Nishimura family is here— again? Was he not planning on letting you breathe? —He showed in front of the king to plead for some of your time, and our majesty agreed— pffft, of course he did —So prince Riki is now waiting for you at the gardens!—

You tilted your head in confusion —…But we are already at the gardens?— you glanced behind the man with narrowed eyes and spotted a silhouette waving at you from far away. A heavy sigh left your lips as you excused yourself and walked towards the prince with a speeded pace, wondering if he had bad news for you; your only hope was that queen Nishimura had not grounded him yet, so it must not be a serious matter.

Four servants bowed upon your arrival at the meeting place, immediately gesturing for you to take a seat on… a pink blanket? and offering you something to drink from an overwhelming variety of options. You politely declined and watched with a puzzled expression at the boy that was sitting before you, sipping tea from a delicate porcelain cup, pinky stretched and everything; however, the moment your servants walked a few meters of distance and faced in the opposite direction to give both of you some privacy, he unceremoniously gulped the rest of the hot beverage in one go and let out a satisfied sigh, the corners of his lips were wet with remains of tea. —Sorry, it’s hard to keep these manners for too long—.

You snorted and offered him a tissue to clean his mouth before he attempted to use his sleeve —Don’t worry, I feel the same— he arched his eyebrows at your sudden confession —sometimes they feel too excessive—. You recalled all those times when your brother would scold you for using the wrong fork to eat salad, a smile appearing on your face at the fond memory.

—Why are you here? And why did you prepare all this?— you gestured vaguely at the improvised picnic, your mouth watering at the sight of strawberry jam sandwiches, green grapes that were especially peeled for you, blueberry and oat muffins, and some other delicacies.

Riki followed your gaze —I didn’t do it though, your father ordered the workers to serve us food as soon as I asked him to see you— so that explains why all of your favorite foods were here, although your heart had danced a little inside your chest at the thought of the prince being behind the small feast. —And as for my reason to visit you, is it not obvious?— his eyes landed on the ring that adorned your finger, making a smile appear on his face —I want to spend as much time as I can with you before, you know…— it seems like, even for him, it was hard to say it out loud.

—The muffins are really tasty, our chef makes them with brown sugar— you mumbled as you grabbed one of them, changing the subject. That is the exact moment when you realized that you were not the only one whose future had been decided by someone else, and the prince might feel as complicated about the arrangement as you, but you were so absorbed in your own complaints to realize that, at the end of the day, you had to work together to make it through this one; even though Riki had been the only one to put an effort to get close to you.

The prince chose a sandwich and eyed you in wonder, as it was difficult for him to guess what was going on inside your mind. —Y/N— he called, popping the imaginary bubble that had engulfed you along with your idea —Are you always this guarded by your servants?— he finally asked in a whisper, trying not to arise suspicion from the four people that stood a few meters away, awaiting your requests.

You shrugged —They are just doing their job— you filled a cup with green tea and took a sip, gazing at the workers —Do you think it’s boring for them?—.

Riki shook his head —I’m not asking for them, I’m asking for you— he gave you his usual face of exasperation after realizing that you were not quite getting what he was trying to say —I mean, are you not tired of having no privacy?— he reached out to grab his fourth sandwich yet, you wondered how much food was needed to satiate such a tall and hyperactive body.

You simply shrugged again, very responsive on your part —It’s not as if I had the option to ask them to leave us alone, they only follow father’s orders— you sipped on your tea; it was starting to leave a bitter aftertaste on your tongue. —Also, they are not bothering us, why do you care so much?—.

A mischievous smirk made its way to Riki’s face, suddenly making you feel uneasy; was he planning to get you in trouble again? —And what if I wanted to kiss you? Wouldn’t you rather have a little more privacy then?—. Oh, so that’s what he was trying to do: break the rules once more.

You almost dropped your cup in astonishment, praying to whoever was willing to listen so that none of the servants had caught on the prince’s scandalous proposal. —Even if you wanted to kiss me, it would still happen with them being present…— you mumbled against your cup. Your hands were visibly shaking, ruining your chances to play cool.

Riki moved a little closer, effectively making you drop the now empty cup on the blanket —Are you sure?— you nodded, breath hitching when he closed the distance even more —Wouldn’t it make you try to convince them to leave and test the limits of your authority? Who knows… you may have more power here than you realize—. Now, that was a little suspicious; it was obvious that his real intention was not kissing you, he was trying to get a certain reaction from you, but what was it? Why was he so obsessed with the idea of you breaking the rules?

You carefully pondered over his words and finally cleared your throat, alerting the servants —You are free to go now, prince Riki and I have an important matter to discuss, and we need some privacy…— your voice was getting softer with every word as you started to lose confidence halfway through the sentence, but surprisingly enough, your servants bowed politely and headed back inside the castle. You watched with your mouth hanging open as their silhouettes shrank until they reached a small door. If you were your father, there would have not been reason to make up excuses, but it still surprised you just how easy it had been to convince them.

—See? I told you— you heard Riki’s voice right beside you, making goosebumps bloom all over your neck and arms, at this point, it is not even worth mentioning how hot your ears and cheeks felt to the touch —I can’t believe you just risked everything because you wanted me to kiss you, I had no idea you were this impatient— he teased between giggles, earning a smack on his forearm that made him yelp in pain.

—You know damn well that you were not even trying to do it! You just wanted me to get rid of the servants!— you tried, in vain, to defend yourself, but the prince could practically feel your stare on his lips.

—Wait… are my ears deceiving me? Or did the princess just swear?— he said in an annoyingly over-dramatic tone, covering his mouth with one of his hands and pointing an accusatory finger at you with the other. You huffed and raised your hand again, dangerously close to his arm, making him flinch —Fine, I get it! I apologize!—.

You frowned at him and crossed your arms —I can’t believe I did all that for nothing— it was not until you saw the corner of his lips rise in a smile that you realized the implications of your words, turning you yet again into a flustered mess —It’s not what you’re thinking!— or was it…? How confusing!

On his part, Riki was having the time of his life teasing you, enjoying every second of the shyness you were exhibiting, only for him. The prince used his fingers to gently hold your chin up, making your shaky eyes land back on his unreadable ones —I will give you one more chance— he said, his breath fanning over your face, sending tingles all over your skin —Do you want to kiss me?—.

You were starting to feel small under his intense gaze, but you managed to answer in a faint whisper, eyes gleaming with anticipation —Yes, please—. You thought that you would kiss him sooner or later anyway, so did it really matter whether you did it now rather than waiting for the wedding? And given his reaction, it seems like Riki felt the same way as you; there was nothing stopping you from tasting his pinkish lips. But those never made it to yours, instead, you felt the prince’s finger brush over your nose, painting it with… strawberry jam?! —Hey! I thought you were done playing with my heart like this!— you complained after a whine of disappointment left you, using a tissue to clean your face as the boy’s lively laugh rang in your ears.

It took a moment for him to calm his laughter, and for you to calm your heartbeat, then you were staring at each other again, at a safer distance this time. —Y/N, listen— he finally spoke, making you frown at him for the nth time this evening; if you ever got early wrinkles on your face, you would totally blame them on him, Sunoo, and the stupid “Manners for Ladies” manual, the one shaped like a brick —I like you, I really do, but I still get the feeling that everything is going too fast for you— well, at least someone understood your situation, which made the weight on your shoulders lighten a little.

—Did you just call me slow?— you knew it was far from his intentions, but you were getting a little tired of always being the one on the receiving end of his teasing.

Riki shook his head and then did something completely unexpected, or at least for you: he kissed your cheek; so gently and delicately that you almost missed the feeling of his plump lips on your burning skin, he held your hands in his afterward, using one of his thumbs to play with your ring. —I’m being serious right now, princess, let’s take it slow from now, okay? We’ll have plenty of time after the ceremony to act like responsible adults, so let’s just enjoy life for the next months, yeah?—.

The way he worded his sentence made it sound like everything that could come after you both exchanged bows would feel miserable for him, and of course, your mouth had to act faster than your brain —Riki, how do you feel about the arrangement?— you seriously had to work on this habit of yours.

The prince chuckled, not expecting you to take account of his opinion regardless of your set-in-stone fate —I will be more than honored to have you as my queen, Y/N— he kissed your cheek once more to emphasize his sincerity, and with that, he stood up and left you alone with your racing thoughts again, not without grabbing another strawberry jam sandwich for the way back.

ㅤ

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[aheathen-conceivably]

Josephine had been sitting with Antoine for hours. Her years at the brothel had taught her what to do when someone was drunk and unresponsive; so with great difficulty she had hoisted Antoine off his back and into an upright position. She stayed there next to him, smoking an endless chain of cigarettes as she monitored his breathing and occasionally attempted to wake him again.

Her brother’s physical presence didn’t make her feel any less alone there. Giorgio was gone, almost all of her friends were gone, even Zelda was gone. She was only thankful that Violette wasn’t here to see this.

Jo hadn’t seen her brother drink this way in almost a decade. Sure, they had drank far more than they should throughout their youth, who hadn’t? The halls of Storyville were practically flowing with champagne, and she wouldn’t see a John or get on stage without at least a bottle.

And all their lives she and Antoine had liked drinking. Even before she had started working, they would often galivant through the clubs of Storyville together as teenagers. Dressed in whatever clothes they could gather from the pieces men left at the brothel, they would pretend to be upstanding, paying gentlemen.

Of course the owners of the clubs all knew who they were. Delphine’s little ones. So late at night, when couples began to pair off and the men were too drunk to notice the interlopers, the bartenders passed them shots of whiskey or champagne and let them dance to the piano without paying the cover fee. It was how Antoine has learned how to play, how he had heard Jelly Roll and Tony Jackson in their primes.

Josephine realized that looking back now, it was perhaps a bit sad: two teenagers given free reign of the vice district as their mother worked. But in the moment she only remembered them feeling free and happy, and having each other amidst the heavily gilded debauchery all around them.

But once he got back from the war, it had all changed. Antoine never drank for fun after that. Only to forget, or to rage and get into fights; only to pass out on the floor of the club, disappointing their mother and teaching Josephine how to rouse him from yet another drunken episode.

Josephine was pulled from her memories by a groan at her side.

“Jo?” He asked, lifting his head, “Fuck, was that you? Had you been here all along?”

As she shook her head yes, he rubbed his temples, the hangover clearly already settling in, “Did you hear all that? Everything I said?”

“Some of it,” she answered, unwilling to say how much. She had always assumed that he wouldn’t want to leave, always assumed it wasn’t worth telling him about Giorgio’s offer, just as he had never told her that Gio had offered him part ownership in the farm.

Neither of them wanted to be the first one to jump ship, to abandon their home or their mother’s memory; but at that moment they both knew that they were ready, both thought it separately without wanting the other to know.

Instead Antoine cleared his throat, doing his best to hide his thoughts from his sister, “Have you heard from Zelda? She should be home by now, shouldn’t she?”

Josephine shook her head, not wanting to acknowledge her own fear that perhaps Zelda wasn’t coming home at all. Each day they woke, expecting a telegram with the information of her return ship; yet each day it didn’t come, until weeks became months and its arrival seemed less and less likely.

Josephine buried her fears and stood on unsteady heels. She offered her hand to her brother, “Come on, let’s get you some food.”

Antoine took her hand, the room once again beginning to spin as he rose to his feet. Jo put her arm around his waist to steady him and they crossed the now empty dance floor. Unbeknownst to her, the wisps of phantoms still danced there, threatening to pull Antoine under once again. He leaned his weight onto his sister, trying to ignore their calls and bury the whole ordeal deep in his mind.

Part 2/2

[ru5t]

arguably the most niche thing i have going on here (which is. incredible, considering what her canon is) but. descenda.nts verse thoughts man idk they're just haunting me

these are not well organized at all it's genuinely just brain overflow i'm so sorry

also. """descen.dant.s""" except it's the brain version i've been expanding out with writing buddies so it bears ...not the biggest resemblance to canon anymore btw. idk if i have to say that i don't know if anyone here expects canon sd;lfkgj;ltkgjd;lkfj

She was 9 years old when she was summoned to the Isle;

this happened because of a spell cast by her mother, Queen Narissa, which was designed to summon Maddy to her side once she was more useful– it was supposed to take effect when Maddy turned 18, but something something loophole about becoming independent when her father died triggered it early. idk if this makes sense outside of my head but it makes sense in here to me i'm still working on phrasing it okay

this was a piece of magic wrought before the isle was constructed, with the kind of magic a person could use to break the barrier... if not for the fact they're already under it. you know? so it pulled her in but there was nothing to be done to replicate it or work it in the opposite direction, you know? it was set in place well before and something of a fluke. i'm breaking the rules while trying to keep them ok

Her mother was not pleased to see her — tiny scrawny little girl with no obvious magical ability (not that they'd really know, under the barrier) and no gift for nastiness and not even good isle politics and fighting because, wouldn't you know it, she had No idea what anything was or how she even fit into it, at first

The fact that Maddy (arguably) resembles Giselle is irony in its purest form and completely coincidental. I'm sure it did not help things.

i feel like... her being magic'd in isn't common knowledge? and if/when it comes up she lets people believe she was just locked up for her early childhood, never allowed out or something. or maybe it is but since it doesn't give anyone an opening for anything everybody just moved on and it stopped being a big deal quickly i don't know

at some point (this makes it sound like a long time but i'm talking months after getting there, maybe. if not weeks.) her mother either completely abandons her OR actively sells her, but either way she ends up in the hands of. is it Ratcliffe(?) who runs the 'skin trade'. it's Bad.

sometime after this is when she meets CJ who goes 'look a stray cat' and this unfolds into a mutually bitey childhood friendship which eventually -> current day something of some shape that is still unveiling itself

of course it's not until the kids start getting bigger and older and etc. that any of them are able to start fighting back against the villainous adults on the isle so the Bad goes on for awhile even while she constantly keeps trying to run away and potentially makes connections who are also Horrified about what's going on. like they're all kids what can they even do it's so sad actually

all the running makes her sneaky and the sneaky makes her Useful this is how she eventually finds a way to get a foot in somewhere else so she doesn't keep getting dragged back and gets her situated in a place where she's still technically at the mercy of the gang whose territory she occupies but. it's just Better. because now she is a little spy and pickpocket instead of. (gestures vaguely.)

still there after the barrier falls. someone who knows where she came from goes "don't you want to try to get back?" and it's like. why? there's nothing there for her. she'd have to start all over again and there's a distinct chance nothing would improve. at least here things are vaguely getting less horrible.

so many additional vibes i do not know how to verbal. this is taking up so much brain space it's actually insane how does this setting do this to me.

[acourtofquestions]

Elain Archeron deserves more credit as a character…

I know some people get frustrated by her whether it be blamed on her naivety, or abandonment of Feyre, or “doe-eyed-damsel” vibe — HOWEVER — might I also argue in favor of her other qualities & defense of these three… (I am not trying to invalidate anyone else’s opinions, just share my own)… especially as I tend to be someone who can see multiple facets to an argument & just enjoys enjoying characters & the fandom for the sake of why it exists & what it is; a chance to enjoy something & celebrate the voice it gives… I am also not claiming she is perfect; I would not claim ANY of the Archeron sisters (or any characters period) ARE perfect; at least not good ones (good heroes are flawed, good villains can be heroic… or at least they are my favorites). — Often I find good writing exists within flaws…

A big one for me off the bat as a whole series relies on the age of these characters: yes Elain is Feyre’s “big sister” but she was still a child. At the end of the day though her & Nesta could’ve done differently, the true job & responsibility (/failure) lies heaviest upon the adults; the parents, the village, etc. it’s not “removing blame” or “giving excuses” just there to say these things should never be any child’s “job”.

Another big one I think we need to address moving forward is that Elain Archeron is NO LONGER naive; perhaps she was at one point; but entering into ACOTAR (5/6/4.5? 5&1/2 idk lol) she is not. Recognizing characters where they are; not where they have been; occasionally where they are going; but right now REALLY where they ARE… and wherever that is for her, it has been given time & plot points to show; she & it have changed. … She is the one who first slayed Hybern! — He may have been evil, but taking a life is not without cost. … She is a character that has also experienced serious trauma (comparing them isn’t a fair game) & as she later states ‘everyone frequently makes HER trauma into THEIR effect’ ‘forgetting what she went through in the first place’… there is a sadness to it, to the lost innocence, but it needs to be acknowledged as that. … Another being that the job of being the “happy” one is not without its own burden. — As Feyre states (quoting incorrectly on lazy memory along the lines of); ‘there was something incredibly strong and terribly brave about remaining hopeful even amongst such horror’ — THAT is Elain. … While she may have experienced a different side of loss, it was STILL loss nonetheless; where Feyre never felt loved in the first place, and Nesta never experienced a non-transactional compassion; Elain felt loved, & consequently felt the loss of it. Elain remembers their mother where Feyre does not, Elain was adored by her mother unconditionally where Nesta was taught with cruelty; Elain was beloved. & Elain felt the loss of it; over, & over, & over again. Elain was given magic where as Nesta had to steal/stole it; yet despite the gift the cauldron still stole back; it stole Elain’s mind & humanity (for a time) nonetheless. — Elain had a life & dreams, & every piece of the life she had wished & come so close to grasping in forever was stolen… And she was sent splintered through time barely knowing herself anymore… — While she grew in Nesta’s shelter and Feyre’s provision, she also fractured; while they lost her, she was stolen in the dead of night; where Feyre witnessed a moment of Briar’s torment & saved her, Elain spent hours watching all the others die with no cursebreaking savior or power to save them let alone herself (like when Aelin says ‘how terrible & odd it must be to not have any defense or not know how’)… — Elain was not a spared innocent in the war; she lost her innocence to it; and there is something terribly heartbreaking about that, because there was a time before when she knew & was such things; something was lost.

Now on the earlier note of their childhood: Yes, Elain did not go into the woods with Feyre. When Tamlin came she cowered behind her sisters. She blissfully glimmered in the world. And she very well should/could have done more; they all could have been better to each other; but for those older siblings out there you probably have seen the blessed wide-eyed innocence that you cannot bear to break (it would be like kicking a puppy) you just cannot do it; Nesta & even Feyre felt that with Elain (they didn’t want to take that “innocence” from her) There are moments like Robin (yes, another Swift reference, sry not sry); “The secret we all vowed to keep it, from you, in sweetness”. And for you younger siblings you probably also know all you saw, learned not to do, & possibly relished in shelter (or later resented & felt hidden by) Nesta also gave her this (from a place of good heart of course). And for you out there; you know; As a middle child you / she got both. … She did not ask to be sheltered nor did she fight against it; but why would she, when she was given every reason NOT to do so? — Perhaps it was selfish, perhaps it was ignorant, but it is not all she ever was. … As Feyre also makes a point to mention (frustratingly “unknowing” as it may have felt at the time) Elain bought her paint, she did not understand the stress of the cost, but she still did (& once again Feyre didn’t tell her; because yes, she carried the burden. Because yes; it was kind, it was still kind. & while I am not arguing that it wasn’t damaging, Feyre should not have gone through what she did, I am saying it isn’t all Elain’s fault either) I state this because this piece of Elain is one of my favorites — Elain is extremely kind in the most genuine of ways that has not changed even after everything, Elain spends so much time watching & gathering detail; she notices even that which makes the shadows laugh, Elain can make the shadows brighter; the cabin colorful; her sister have 1 nice thing & memory; & Elain (even in all her innocence sees & the more) in all her light she does not cower. Not from shadow or venom or thorns. … Elain has the patience to tend to flowers & the grit to withstand thorns. Elain is a giver & a helper & a lover. These things are gifts not to be downplayed.

She is NOT a damsel. Even while being saved she helps save Briar. She does not cower. She first slays Hybern! She saves her sisters! Elain is NOT a damsel!!! — Nor do I think it fair to hate on her gentler traits for being too “old school feminine” or equal her as the sum of only them alone.

Largely I also love the traits she does share as a non-stereotype (rule-breaking) Archeron for instance her stubbornness; (though her treatment of Lucien is severely complicated & sad) there is an element of familiar familial humor to the fact she is not just “going along” with anything. She is also genuinely funny in her own nature that is often very laughter inducing: the scene where Nesta curses her out is absolute genius, her gift to Azriel is room-brightening in its levity & light. Elain is fiercely loyal (& Elain is not a dog either). Elain is the one there for Feyre with Nyx. And Elain does come for Nesta too. She comes back, she forgives (why can’t we?).

And yes their relationships are severely complicated but these things always are! Personally, I look forward to seeing more aspects of her character going forward… and the sisterhood it brings! … I guess my point is more about that going forward; regardless of right & wrong (in fictional morality)they have forgiven, they are trying to be apart of each others lives. Whether you agree they should or shouldn’t they did. Feyre is happy right now, as is Nesta, Elain deserves the same… So maybe we can take a moment & appreciate what there is.