#she deserved to stay longer dammit!!!

[joelalorian]

Under False Pretenses - Chapter Eleven

Stepdad!Dave York x f!reader | wc: 4924 | masterlist

Summary: A challenging mission, whirlwind marriage, and an unexpected yet captivating stepdaughter push Dave York to the brink as secrets, feelings, and loyalties collide.

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ mdni. Stepdad trope. Unspecified age gap. Soft, sexy, and intense Dave. Nicknames and terms of endearment. Cursing. Secret spy shit is not so secret anymore - Dave clues you in on nearly everything. Angst. Smut - somno PiV.. Injuries to human and dog. Vengeful Dave.

Series Masterlist

Dave raced back to town after dropping the girls off at their grandparents’ with a half-baked explanation and teary goodbyes. Over the years, they learned not to ask too many questions and happily took the girls. On the way, he called Ari.

“What’s up, boss?”

“I just left the girls with Carol’s parents. They haven’t seen them in a while and plan to take them to the Poconos for the week,” Dave explained.

“Good. I’m glad they’re safe and out of the way,” Ari replied. After a long pause, he added, “That’s not all you called for, is it?”

Dave sighed. “No. No, it’s not.”

“I’ve got eyes on her, don’t worry,” Ari said, reading him like a book. “I’ll let you know the moment something seems off.”

“I’m trusting you, Ari. She’s…”

“I know, boss. She’s important to you. That’s all I need to know. I’m on it.” Ari ended the call, leaving Dave to focus on strategizing for the upcoming meeting with Roger, Anna, and their mystery asset he believed in his heart was McCall.

An hour later, Dave had just pulled into the garage when his phone buzzed with an incoming call. “What do you have?” he greeted the caller.

“He’s still on her,” Ari’s voice came through the line, clipped and urgent. “Saw him near the coffee shop as she popped in. He’s following her to the park now. It’s McCall, no question.”

“Dammit!” Dave slammed his palm against the steering wheel, jaw clenched. “How close?”

“Too close for comfort,” Ari replied. “York, he’s not being subtle, either. Almost like he wants her to notice, for it to get back to you.”

His blood pressure spiked again. “He’s fucking toying with me. Stay on them. Don’t let her out of your sight. I don’t want him getting near her again.”

“You got it, boss,” Ari replied, his tone grim. “Want me to tell the boys to stock the safe house?”

“Yeah, you know the drill.”

“Will it just be the two of you or…”

“Just us. I called it off with Lisa last night. She can fucking fend for herself. Her car isn’t here anyway.” Dave ended the call, his mind racing. He couldn’t leave you exposed. He shouldn’t have left you alone this morning, but he had to take care of the girls first.

McCall was sending a message, and the longer he waited to act, the more danger you were in.

Dave raced inside. The house was empty as he packed an overnight bag to stash with his go bag in the back of the SUV. He went to your room next, shoving a bunch of stuff into a suitcase, careful to grab the things he knew you needed like that lotion you used and your favorite hoodie. He grabbed supplies for Ranger as well.

When everything was loaded in his SUV, Dave finally took a breath and texted you.

Dave: Can you come home? I need to talk to you.

You read his message right away but took your damned time responding. He could see the little dots appear and disappear, only to reappear again as you tried to come up with a response. Finally, after a lifetime of suspense, his phone buzzed.

You: Ok be there in 10

Those were the ten longest minutes of his life as he waited for you. Dave spent the entire time pacing, hating himself for how dismissive he was with you the evening before. You didn’t deserve that. He’d been so focused on protecting his girls that he didn’t have the mental capacity for anything else. Unfortunately, that left you getting the short end of the stick, and he deeply regretted that.

The sound of your car in the driveway set his nerves at ease. Until he saw your face as you entered the house, that was.

Dave could see at once that your walls were up. Arms wrapped tight around yourself after you disconnected Ranger’s leash. The dog sensed your energy, hovering at your side. Dave knew this was his doing, and he promised to make it right.

His footsteps echoed on the floor – he forgot to take his shoes off, but he couldn’t give a shit less – as he approached you. With slow, deliberate movements, he eased your arms apart, grasping one of your hands in his larger one when they fell to your sides.

“Come with me, please?” He phrased it as a question to ease your nerves, but he was already leading you to the back porch.

The sun was falling low in the sky, the golden light cascading over you as he led you to the porch swing. Ranger sat dutifully at your feet.

Dave watched your every move, his chest tightening when you turned to meet his gaze.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, your expression matching your voice, wary and uncertain.

He struggled with how much to tell you and finally settled on a simple, “You’re in danger. That man that’s been following you? He’s… dangerous.” Dave wanted to kick himself for how lame he was being. He just couldn’t think straight with you looking at him like that, all wounded yet hopeful.

You scoffed. “Yeah, I already figured that much out after the way you reacted yesterday.”

“I need to take you away from here, to somewhere safe,” Dave explained softly, his hand still grasping yours.

He’s not sure what he expected, but your reaction confused him. You just nodded with an inscrutable expression on your face. He kinda thought you’d put up a fight.

“Where?”

“A safe house. The guys are stocking it up now, so it’ll be ready for you when we arrive.” Fear, determination, and something deeper flashed in his eyes as he gazed at you. “Listen, I’ll tell you everything I can once we’re safe, but I need you to trust me. Ok?”

He saw the same things reflected in your eyes when you nodded without question.

You didn’t know how to feel or what to think as Dave hustled you and Ranger into his car, your stuff already packed and loaded. The drive was quiet as Dave navigated the darkening roads. You stole glances at him, his jaw tight and one hand gripping yours like a lifeline.

“Dave,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “This man who’s been following me – who is he?”

“A threat,” Dave replied, his voice low as his eyes scanned the road. “One I can’t take lightly.”

“Obviously,” you snarked. “But why is he threatening me… us? There’s more to the story. I know there is. Please, just tell me.”

His eyes flashed to you quickly, hand tightening around yours again. “Ok. His name is Robert McCall. He’s my old commander from the team the guys and I were on.”

You nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“Some things happened, and we thought he died. Turns out he just faked his death and hid for years before resurfacing to come after the guys and me for some shit we did – things I will not talk about right now,” Dave warned.

Again, you nodded, squeezing his hand in support. “Ok, I won’t ask about those ‘things’ then.”

“Anyway, we came to an understanding around the time that Carol was diagnosed with cancer, and we parted on equitable terms. Or so I thought. In the few years since then, he’s… changed. Became angry at the government and everything it made us do back in the day. He’s, uh… he’s part of this case I’m investigating.”

Silence fell over the two of you again; the only sound in the vehicle was Ranger’s rhythmic panting. You mulled over Dave’s explanation, and, despite your overwhelming curiosity, you didn’t press for more. Instead, you pulled his hand up to your lips and kissed his knuckles. The warmth of his eyes when he looked at you was enough, and you let the car fall quiet.

After a while, you caved and broke the silence.

“Why isn’t my mom coming with us?” Not that you wanted her there, but still, you wondered. If you and the girls were in danger, surely she was, too?

“There’s something really important I need to tell you,” Dave began, his grip tightening around your hand.

“OK?” you replied hesitantly.

“Your mom and I… the marriage was never real.”

The truth bomb left you stunned, but not for long. So much made sense now – the weird interactions and lack of affection, Dave spending nights with you…

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” you wondered.

With a grimace, he glanced between you and the road. “It was part of our cover for the operation. I couldn’t risk the wrong ears hearing and repeating the truth. It was easier to keep it a secret from everyone and play charades.”

Silence fell for a few minutes as you let that sink in. A roller coaster of emotions swirled within you, but the most important one was a sense of relief.

“I was planning on telling you everything the moment the mission ended,” Dave added, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

You nodded then. “I understand. It all makes sense, though. There were so many odd things about the marriage that made me wonder what the hell was going on. At the same time, I didn’t want to know.”

Dave glanced between you and the road again. He had a hard time keeping his eyes off you. “Is that why you never asked questions about me and her?”

“Yep. I thought, what did it matter if the marriage was real or fake or whatever? I figured it wasn’t for love. Otherwise, you’d never have gotten involved with me. Even in the moments when it hurt to see you with her, I still felt like you weren’t really with her. You know? All I really cared about was just getting to be with you when I could.”

He pulled your hand to his face, touching his lips to your knuckles in a soft, soothing kiss. “There was never any love, I swear. It was all fake – for this case. My team at the DIA created the cover story, Lisa volunteered for the role, and I ‘bought’ the house to get close to Roger.”

You shrugged, your eyes a little brighter. “Well, I’m glad to have confirmation that I’m not a true homewrecker. I couldn’t understand what you’d seen in my mom anyway, so I’m very pleased to know it wasn’t real. Otherwise, I’d have to question your judgment… and taste in women.”

Laughter filled the cabin of the SUV. “I do wonder, though,” you said, contemplating your mom’s accusations the night before. “Did my mom hope it would become a real marriage? She accused me of trying to steal you from her.”

A guttural groan slipped past Dave’s lips as he shook his head. He told you the conversation that occurred between the two of them the night before and how he put an end to the ruse by contacting his boss.

“I can’t fault her for trying, I guess,” you said, rolling your eyes at your mother’s crazy behavior. “I’m glad it’s officially over between you two, even if it was fake all along.”

“Me, too,” Dave admitted.

The lingering tension between the two of you dissipated now that the air was cleared. The conversation shifted to mundane things as the SUV ate up the miles.

Sometime later, Dave pulled to a stop in front of a cabin nestled deep in the woods, far removed from the chaos of the outside world. Towering pines surrounded the structure in every direction. Dave ushered you and Ranger inside after letting the dog sniff around and do his business. Dave locked the door behind him and checked every window to confirm they were secure.

You stood in the living room, in front of a glowing fire with your arms crossed as you watched him move about. “How long are we staying here?”

“As long as it takes,” he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. When he finally stopped moving, the weight of everything seemed to crash over him. He leaned against the wall, his head dropping into his hands.

“Dave…” you began, stepping closer until you stood a few feet directly in front of him.

He looked up, his chocolate eyes raw and vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before. “I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice breaking. He pushed off the wall, closing the space between you in half a stride. “I’ve been an idiot. Shutting you out like that while I made sure the girls were safe. I’m sorry.”

His head fell forward, forehead bumping against yours as you stared into his eyes, heart pounding. “Dave…”

“I love you,” he said, the words spilling from his mouth in a rush, like a dam giving way to flood waters. “I love you, and the thought of something happening to you – I can’t handle it.”

Tears stung your eyes as his words sank in, the raw sincerity in his voice undoing you. “I… I love you, too,” you whispered. A warm wave of relief flooded your senses at finally vocalizing that thing you’d been feeling for months but were too scared to admit.

Dave reached for you, his hands cupping your face as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you and the girls safe,” he murmured.

When his lips met yours, it wasn’t like the previous times you kissed – it was deeper, more certain, as though he were pouring every ounce of himself into the kiss.

His hands were everywhere, caressing every bit of you he could reach as he slowly removed your clothes. Dave was soft and sensual in his movements, each kiss reverent, each touch like he was handling delicate crystal stemware. You returned each kiss and caress with tenderness of your own, knowing that’s what he needed right now.

You made love multiple times that night, alone in the cabin with Ranger standing guard outside the bedroom door like a furry sentinel.

In the morning, Dave woke first, the buzzing of an incoming message on his phone stirring him. After reading the quick note from Ari, he turned to face you.

You were splayed on your stomach, skin bare to the waist where the sheet and blanket covered you. Your skin gleamed in the early morning light entering the window. The sight took his breath away.

You loved him, just as he loved you.

It blew his mind.

Dave was in awe of you. How you made him feel, how you treated his girls like they were your own, how you fit into his life right from the first moment you met. It was meant to be, right? Surely, it was.

Desire swelled within him, and he pulled the covers further down your body, revealing the naked skin of your dimpled ass and thighs to his burning gaze. Moving with the sureness of a silent predator, Dave shifted to hover over your back and eased one hand slowly, tenderly between your thighs. Thick fingers tested your readiness for him, finding you wet and waiting from your night of lustful activities.

Torn between waking you with his tongue or his cock, Dave thought back to that night the two of you played Never Have I Ever. When you shared with him that you not only never visited a sex shop, but you also never had someone take you apart while you were still sleeping in the prone position.

His fingers dipped back inside you before coating his cock with your essence. When the overheated skin glistened and his hand glided along the wet shaft, he pitched forward to gently nudge his cock between your slightly parted thighs as his belly pressed against your luscious ass. Having worked you over several times during the night, Dave was able to sink into your depths easily, yet your pussy still gripped him tight.

Body weight supported by strong arms placed at your sides, Dave rocked his hips, setting a smooth pace as he fucked into you, head tipped forward to watch the meat of your ass jiggle with each thrust. You began to wake when he hit that spot you loved, sleepy moans slipping from your pretty lips.

He brought one hand up to brush a whisp of your hair away from your face so he could watch your expression as you came to full wakefulness with him buried deep inside you.

“Mmmmm, Dave,” you keened, eyes flying open to look at him over your shoulder.

“Good morning, my love,” he greeted between quiet grunts. His hips moved faster as you started to push back against him, body trembling as the pleasure washed over you.

When his arms began to shake with a mix of muscle fatigue and pleasure, Dave slumped against your back, pressing himself deeper inside you as he wriggled one hand beneath your body to tease your clit.

Neither of you heard the sound of the front door opening or Ranger’s playful bark as someone he knew entered the cabin, too lost in the haze of pending orgasm. Dave had you coming in minutes, his panting breaths in your ear as his hips worked into a frenzied pace and you screamed into the pillow. He followed closely behind, pulling out at the last second, stroking his cock for a beat before he shot ropes of cum across your dimpled ass. After the last drop fell, he smacked your fleshy rump and watched as your cum-covered ass jiggled deliciously.

“Now that’s a fucking sight,” Dave said in a voice still gruff with sleep.

“Breakfast is ready if you sex fiends are done in there!” A voice shouted from the kitchen, wrenching a scream from your lungs as you stared over your shoulder at Dave in terror.

Dave laughed at your reaction, patting your ass again. “Relax, Firecracker. It’s just Ari.”

Climbing from the bed, he cleaned up the mess left behind on your ass and slipped on a pair of joggers and a tee shirt. When he turned back to face you, he held up one of his tee shirts in one hand and your clothes from yesterday in the other. You were too busy burying your head in the pillow in sheer embarrassment to notice.

“Come on, baby,” Dave chuckled. “It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before. Get dressed, and let’s go see what he brought for breakfast.”

“Can’t you just bring whatever it is in here?” you whined, sitting up to slip on his shirt. “There’s no way in hell I’m going out there right now.”

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, stepping aside when he opened the door to let Ranger bound into the room to see you before shutting the door again. He nodded a greeting to Ari as the sound of your giggles from the pup jumping on the bed to lick your voice echoed behind him.

“She not coming out?” Ari questioned, a knowing smirk gracing his lips as he drew a few breakfast sandwiches from the brown paper bag on the counter.

“What do you think? You just had to embarrass her, didn’t you?” Depleted after a night of active, enthusiastic lovemaking with you, Dave bit into his sandwich with the vigor of a starving man as Ari chuckled. Three bites, and it was nearly devoured.

“Have you told her any of the stories from—”

“Of course not!” Dave snapped. “Why the fuck would I tell her stories about my disastrous, youthful single days in the military? I want her to stick around, not ditch me for being a young, dumb manwhore.”

Ari chuckled as Dave snatched up the remaining sandwich and a can of Diet Coke before darting back to the bedroom. He could kill Ari for his shit timing, but they had important things to discuss, and time was of the essence.

“Here you go, kitten,” he teased, handing you the items with a flourish. “You can hide in here for a while more. The others are coming to go over the plan for the case. I’ll let you know when it’s okay to come out.”

You waved him off, mouth already full of bacon, egg, and cheese on an everything bagel, as you turned on the TV to keep yourself entertained.

By midday, Dave had a plan in place. The meeting was set with the location being scoped by Kovac and Resnik. Ari would remain behind at the cabin to ensure your safety. With Ari currently walking Ranger around the cabin parameter, the safe house was silent save for the methodical fabric rustling and quiet metal clinking as Dave packed his gear.

His movements were sharp and efficient as he double-checked his service weapon and extra clips. The dim glow of the overhead light cast long shadows across the wooden floors, stretching toward where you stood, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you watched him silently.

He was leaving, and you knew nothing about the plan, where he was going, if he would return in one piece. You were still in the dark about it all. Plausible deniability, Dave had said. It’s for your safety, Firecracker.

Utter bullshit. You knew enough for plausible deniability to be out the window.

“You’re really going without telling me anything?” you asked again, hating how your voice wavered despite the steel you tried injecting into it.

Dave stopped what he was doing, turning to face you, his dark, soulful eyes locked on yours. The look he gave you – steady, unwavering, full of warmth – should have been reassuring, but nothing could stop the fear in your chest from coiling tighter.

You didn’t have a good feeling about this, any of this. You’d at least like to know where he’d be in case something happened because deep down, you knew something would.

“I don’t have a choice,” he replied in a low but firm voice as he stepped toward you. He pulled you against the hardness of his chest, the heat of his body slightly calming your nerves as he held you. “If my old commander is involved, I need to know what he’s planning. He is lethal, and I can’t put you at risk. Me and the guys may be the only ones who can stop him.”

Resting your head against Dave’s broad shoulder, you breathed in his scent. He was all Irish Spring soap and expensive cologne, the aroma equaling the masculine strength he commanded. “I get that. You have a job to do, but do you have to leave me here? Alone? Wouldn’t I be better off with you?”

His grip tightened around you as he kissed the crown of your head. “Ari is staying here with you. He’s one of the best – I wouldn’t let him stay here with you if he wasn’t. You’ll be safe with him and Ranger.”

Safe.

The word felt flimsy when the threat looming over both of you had already crept into your life and taken root.

You searched his face, desperate to tamp down the horrible feeling swirling in your gut. “Promise me you’ll come back,” you murmured. You couldn’t lose him now, ever, not after finally admitting the depth of your feelings for each other.

Dave’s jaw tightened. His fingers flexed slightly where they held you before one hand slid upward to take your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Titling your head upwards with his soft grip, Dave’s chocolate eyes burned into you, full of fire and promise. ‘I’ll always come back to you,” he said, his voice deep and filled with emotion. “You are my life now. You and my girls.”

The warehouse was a skeletal structure, its rusted beams arching over the open floor like the ribs of some long-dead beast. The stench of oil and damp cement clung to the air, mixing with the distant hum of the city just beyond the docks. The location was so unlike their previous meeting places, speaking volumes of the sudden change in dynamics with this particular meeting.

Dave stepped through the squeaky, weathered metal door, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. Ahead, Roger and Anna stood waiting beneath the dim overhead lights.

Roger grinned, casual as ever with his hands in his pockets like he had nothing to fear. “York. Right on time for once.”

Dave didn’t slow his stride. His gaze was sharp, cutting straight through their act. ‘Where’s… our mutual friend?” he demanded, his voice controlled but laced with an edge of impatience.

Anna’s painted lips curled at the edges, her dark eyes assessing. “He had… other priorities.”

His stomach twisted, but he forced himself to remain impassive. “Convenient,” he said dryly. “His presence was the whole fucking point of the meeting.”

Roger chuckled, making Dave’s skin crawl as he watched the man swirl the amber liquid in his glass. Even in a fucking dingy warehouse, Roger found his way to a glass of hard liquor. “Relax, York. You’ll meet him soon enough.”

Jaw clenching, Dave silently counted to ten. He had to play this carefully. They didn’t know he already knew McCall’s true identity and suspected his ultimate goal. The entire operation could unravel if he was not careful.

The conversation drifted into logistics – coded talk of shipments and handoffs, scheduling another meeting before the final stage of high-level governmental information was exchanged – but Dave barely heard it. His mind was elsewhere, coiled tight with the realization that McCall had purposefully avoided this meeting.

It wasn’t a delay.

It was a fucking message.

And Dave had a gut-wrenching feeling that the message had been delivered straight to you.

With careful wording and barely suppressed annoyance, he wrapped up the meeting. With phone already in hand when he stepped outside, Dave didn’t waste a second in calling Resnik and Kovac.

“Did you catch all that? He wasn’t fucking there!” he spat, breaking into a run for his SUV, no longer caring about breaking his cover.

Resnik cursed under his breath. “Think he’s onto us?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dave snapped, his gut twisting into knots. “Get to the safe house. Now!”

The drive to the safe house felt interminable, the miles passing too slowly as he struck the steering wheel frustratingly. His calls to Ari went unanswered. This could not be good.

How did he not see this meeting for what it was?

A fucking diversion.

He would kill McCall if anything happened to you.

The only peace of mind for Dave was the fact that his daughters were safe with their grandparents.

When he finally pulled to a stop in front of the cabin, he knew something was wrong.

The front door was open, swinging slightly on its hinges. The porch light flickered, illuminating the stillness of the surrounding woods as twilight settled in.

Cold dread washed over him.

“Stay sharp,” he ordered when Resnik and Kovac exited their vehicles behind him. All three men drew their weapons.

The interior of the cabin was wrecked. Furniture overturned, broken glass scattered across the floor, the unmistakable scent of blood in the air.

And then he saw Ari.

The man was slumped against the wall, one hand pressed to his side, blood seeping through his fingers. Ranger lay beside him, wounded and whining pitifully while Ari’s free hand covered the wound beneath his matted fur.

On the floor in front of them sat the heart necklace Dave gave you for Christmas, the chain snapped.

Pulse pounding in his ears, Dave dropped to his knees. He ignored the pain of the impact with the hardwood floor as his fingers closed around the necklace. “What the hell happened?”

Ari’s eyelids fluttered, his face pale from blood loss. “He… came out of nowhere. Overpowered me and stabbed Ranger when this guy tried to bite him. He fucking took her.” He coughed then, visibly wincing with the pain of it. “I couldn’t stop him. I’m sorry.”

The cabin disappeared as Dave’s vision narrowed. His anger sparked like a live wire, his breath coming in sharp, barely controlled breaths. He felt like he could fucking cry with the mix of emotions swirling within his chest. “Who?” Dave asked, though he already knew the answer.

Ari coughed again; a spot of blood mixed with his spittle as he spoke. “McCall.”

The confirmation sent a wave of fury crashing through him, his worries turning dark and suffocating. “Did you see which way he went?” Dave’s voice stayed deadly calm, not belying the roiling emotions bubbling wildly under the surface.

“North… in a black SUV…” Ari lost consciousness then, and Dave knelt in front of him, frozen.

Movement behind him broke Dave from his daze. Resnik was already moving, his phone out as he finished a call. “Help is on the way.”

Dave slowly rose to his feet, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. His mind whirled, already calculating, strategizing how best to track McCall down. But beneath it all, something primal fought its way to the surface. McCall took you, hurt your dog in the process, and there would be hell to pay.

McCall would pay with his life. Dave could promise that much.

Turning to Kovac, he said, “Stay with them. Make sure they both get patched up. She’ll kill me if Ranger doesn’t pull through.” The other man nodded solemnly, and Dave turned to Resnik. “You’re with me.”

The two men stalked toward his SUV. Dave’s body was coiled with a surging wave of rage that promised nothing short of scorched earth-level destruction.

tbc

Chapter Twelve

tag list: @imdrinkingpedro @lillaydee @ppascalrain @yorksgirl @missladym1981 @baronessvonglitter @slimybeth69 @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @inept-the-magnificent @wannab-urs @thundermartini @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @sunnytuliptime @vie-is-punk @lovely-vamp-princess

[renatogpadilla]

The One Where She Comes Clean.

It took Lux a full 3 seconds to process what she had just heard.

She had wondered, despite her best intentions what could her friend have possibly seen in that harrowing vision that had made her break the way she had...

Losing a daughter would do it.

Isha... Not-Isha kept going.

"She wasn't mine," She sobbed out between tired tears "but... But she was mine, you know...? She came... into my life at my lowest p-point... And for seven m-months... S-seven beautiful months, she... she made it so... so b-bright! My Isha.... my.... my p-perfect, beautiful baby girl!"

She couldn't hold it in any longer. Lux hugged her friend, both of their eyes filled with tears, as she sobbed into her arms.

They didn't know how long they'd stayed like that. It didn't matter. Eventually, the tears stopped... slowly. Her eyes were burning. Everything hurt.

Jinx managed to talk. "I... Listen, Lux. You saved me too. In more ways than one... And I want to be honest with you. If anyone knows, I want it to be you... but...." How do you even start?

"If you're not there yet, I understand. I won't push. When you're ready, I'll be here." Jinx wondered if Lux was this sincere all the time or if she just put on a pretty face for her... Either way, she couldn't have asked for a better friend right now.

"I think I genuinely don't deserve a friend like you." Jinx meant that. She really didn't deserve her.

"Well, suck it up, Firework." Lux had to push that out of her throat. She just told you about her dead daughter and you're trying out nicknames?! "You're stuck with me. And I don't plan on leaving you alone."

"...Firework?" She could not let Lux know how much she actually liked that. She had an image, dammit!

"Hey, you call me 'Flashlight'!" It wasn't a chuckle so much as a sputtered breath that left her mouth, but the feeling came across.

"Okay, fine. That's fair." Something in her still feared telling Lux everything...

She didn't know where to go from here... Lux was staying the night. Should she offer tea? She didn't have cookies or anything. She should have had cookies! What kind of witch didn't have cookies to lure children into the woods with?! She had to step her game up when she stopped feeling so depressed...

"But... If not your birth name" Which was a shame, because Lux found 'Powder' really cute "and not your other name... What do I call you?"

And here she had to take a gamble... In her mind, she was praying to Janna or whatever other spirit could hear that the name of the most wanted criminal in Piltover-Zaun hadn't reached Demacia... Or at least not Lux.

She wanted to be honest. But she had to brace herself first. "I can be... completely truthful with you, right?"

"Always. I'm almost offended you even had to ask!"

"Heh... I know. Listen, Flashlight. There's a part of me that's terrified to tell you."

"...Why?" Oh, did Lux want an answer to that question?

"Because..." Just say it. She took a deep breath. "Because you've told me your story. And I'm afraid that... I'm scared that if I tell you..." You wouldn't come see me anymore? You would hate me?

"You'd have to take the first step for once?" Lux didn't mean for it to be a jab, but she wanted to get out of the depression, by whatever way she could, and this girl needed to get this out.

"I'm afraid that you'd be too... Familiar with me." She could think of no other word to describe it. She was kinda glad she couldn't. "You... Um..."

"Go on, friend." And she said it so sincerely that Jinx felt her heart grow a size... She swore those eyes got bigger the longer they stared at her. "I'm not leaving."

She dared to hope. "You promise...?"

Lux actually stood up from the couch. Jinx could tell she was sore from the fight still, but she didn't let it show. And then she took a knee and put one hand over hers and another over her heart.

"I," she said, and she put the weight of the world into her words "Luxanna Crownguard, swear on my honor as a Noble, as a servant of the Crown of Demacia, on my Knighthood and on my light as a Mage, that I will not desert you. I will not run from who you are. I will not judge or hate you for what you have been through. On our friendship and on the joy you've brought me... Lest I be struck dead by the gods themselves."

Tiny lights floated around them. Lux wanted to make sure she knew she meant business. What a dramatic little lady she'd let in her hut! Welp, she'd done it now... Fuck it.

"Whatever happens now, you asked for it."

Lux just nodded her head and smiled. One more deep breath.

"You know Piltover?" She started. Might as well match her dramatics if she was going to tell her.

"The City of Progress. I've heard of the place, but I've never been..."

"Well, you'll hear a lot of stories about it. About how they have the most beautiful skyline and how their technology is second to none... It's alright. They're good, I guess. But what they won't tell you is that their glorious city sits on top of another. One that breathes the refuse of their engines. The smog of their factories... The dust beneath their boot. This is the city of Zaun. And I used to call it home."

Lux was sitting fully cross-legged on the floor now, looking up at her like she was her favorite teacher... Or like a child, hearing a new story for the first time. Jinx realized she missed being a storyteller. She liked that the theatrics she could weave into stories didn't require several hours of explosive safety prep... Like she'd ever cared about the safety prep!

"And even in this veritable hive of scum and villainy, where the air was thick with smoke and drug lords named 'Chembarons' ran the streets, there was a still a little corner of light: A section of the city, marshalled by a man named Vander. My dad. This place was called The Lanes, and smack dab in the middle of them, there was a quaint little bar called The Last Drop... And in that bar lived Vander and a gang of kids. There were four of us: There was Mylo, Claggor... my sister Violet... 'Vi'. And me. Powder. And we spent our days gathering scrap for dad to sell and keep the bar afloat... Well, at least that's what we thought. Looking back, he probably just gave us that idea so we'd feel important. Petty heists here and there, nothing too crazy. Mylo could pick any lock, Claggor was big and smart, always a step ahead of everyone else and the one who always knew the getaway route... Vi could punch like hell and I had my little gadgets. None of them worked as intended, but I was getting somewhere." She nodded her head at Pow-Pow and Fishbones on the floor. "That's one thing I can proudly say I got much better at."

"Question!" Said Lux. She actually raised her hand, the darling! "If there were just those four of you, then... Where does Ekko come in?"

Leave it to Miss 'Repressed Fairytale Princess' to immediately ask about her crush. Good to know Lux had her priorities straight!

"He hung around on occasion. He was more Benzo's kid than Vander's. He usually tipped us off to jobs the gang and I could pull. He was small and could get in anywhere if you stopped paying attention to him... He did stay with us for some time, learning how to fight with Vi... Dancing to the jukebox with me..." She had to take a moment. "You know, I don't think I ever noticed how much Ekko made me feel like a kid until you made me bring him up." He really had been there the whole time... Looking back, that crush he'd had on her was so incredibly obvious that she should have noticed, kid or not. That boy was smitten!

"Sounds like you were getting there by yourself already."

"I might've been, Flashlight... Anyhow, it was Ekko that tipped us off to the biggest heist of all. Some big-shot academy nerd over at Piltover had gotten his hands on something incredibly valuable, and now we were going to strike it rich..."

She told her about the heist on Jayce's house in detail, and while she did so, it occurred to Jinx in this moment of retrospection, that she had never actually met Jayce Talis!

The Man of Progress himself! The Father of HexTech! She'd just... stolen his marbles (and his sandwich) and ran! He made Vi those overdesigned bitch-mittens and she'd never even seen the guy outside of a couple posters or ostentatious mugs!

She wondered where he was now and if he had made it out of the scuffle with Noxus alive. After all, if he hadn't dabbled with the Arcane, she wouldn't be who she was...

Lux was completely enamoured by the story. The little band of ruffians braving the top of society to put food on the table... It was inspiring! It made her think of the struggle Mages faced now in Demacia. And Powder (she'd call her that for now, until she got a name.) had been a fighter since the beginning! And now what a woman she'd become! She could make gadgets that could bring down demons from actual Hell and explosions that outshined the moon! As far as she was concerned, she could have been anything but chose to live as a witch of the woods for the vibes!

She admired her more with every bit of her story she learned...

Little by little, Jinx told her overenthusiastic Demacian friend how everything had been downhill from the moment they'd robbed Jayce's place. The Piltie Enforcers that had killed her and Vi's biological parents now flooded the underground, looking to make an example of the undercity for what they had finally perceived to be an excuse...

She slowed down on the details after a while... And eventually, she told her about the night the rest told her to stay behind...

"I should have stayed behind... Looking back I notice that Vi was just trying her best to keep me safe. But then, I just wanted to be useful. So I went anyway... And I took a new toy with me. Filled to the brim with those magic marbles we stole. It was my biggest bomb ever. And it was gonna get them all out."

Lux could tell by her tone that it was not gonna go that way. She got up and sat on the couch with her. She'd put some tea on after she got done with this part. If she wasn't in shambles by then.

"I got there to see my friends, my sister and my dad pinned down through a small window. They'd run rampant and clobbered everyone that got in their way... Now it was my turn to help. Well... I set the little bomb through the window and let it walk off into the fray." Jinx had to stop for a moment. Lux could see in her eyes that what happened next would be heavy... Maybe she should do it now.

"Tea, friend?" She offered.

"Yes. Please. A lot. I... I think I'm going to need it..." Fuck, she missed coffee sometimes.

Lux put the kettle on. If you could call that ramshackle mechanical contraption a 'kettle'.

"If you need to stop, I understand."

"I think if I don't get it out now, I never will." Jinx owed her the truth after tonight. "I... Be patient with me? Please?"

"Of course. You don't have to ask."

Careful, Jinx. She's about to make you believe in kindness again...

While the water boiled, Lux sat down next to her friend. She made some little light balls float around them and dance a little. Nothing too crazy... It was nice that she'd managed to control her powers to the point of making little magic lanterns, but she wanted to try something new now. Something simple, for her.

"You know." Lux started "When I blasted that monster today, I felt something I'd never felt before. Like, I connected to light in a way I'd never understood... Like I could almost talk to it."

"Now who's got voices in her head?" Oh, good. Powder was making jokes now! That was great! A bit of the gloom of the night was starting to dissipate at last...

Lux shot her a playful glare and continued. "Anyways, now that I see it in that light, heh, I was wondering what would happen if I just... Asked nicely."

As she said that, she waved her hand in front of one of the little light motes she'd made... And a few seconds later, it slowly changed. From yellow, to green, to a lighter tone. A red... A purple... Until finally, a light, magical blue floated in front of them. Slowly, all the little lights changed, one by one, lighting up the hut in a blue hue that reminded her of her friend's beautiful fireworks.

She turned to look at the not-a-witch... and she saw tear roll down her face.

"It's beautiful, Flashlight." Jinx had had pretty lights lit for her before (albeit more dangerous and rebellious ones) but this was so... soft. So caring and genuinely precious... This was a gift. "I'm proud of you, for what it's worth. And I'm glad you're here."

"It's worth the world, mon ami." She leaned in close to the little sphere of light. "Thank you!" She whispered. And the little lantern glowed a little brighter. Jinx knew it was just Lux making it 'answer', but she still let herself get lost in the magic for a moment...

She drank her tea slowly... Calm your nerves. Eventually, she put her cup down and resumed her story, the new mood lighting actually calming her down a bit more than she thought. "Well, I was right about one thing: That really was the best bomb I'd ever made. So much so that even I didn't expect it to go off so... effectively. The blast sent me flying onto the street... As well as the entire building."

She'd expected, deep down, that a blue glow would make it harder to tell Lux how the bomb she'd used had killed two of her friends and her father, made her sister hate her for a decade and taken down the entire building with gods-know-how-many people still inside, but if anything, it was comforting to see a blue glow that didn't mean somebody wouldn't see tomorrow for once...

As she continued telling Lux what she'd done, she felt a pain growing on her chest. "This is it!" she thought. "If she can still care for you after she finds out you blew up children then she's sticking around for good."

"There were five of us when that explosion went off... but when the smoke cleared, it was just Vi and me." She lamented. Some days she wondered what Mylo and Claggor would have said about the life she'd led. Would they have come with her? Would they have fought against her? Would they have joined Ekko's Firelights and stayed out of it until it was their problem? Whatever the outcome, a part of her would have still cared. She'd always care. That was her own jinx. "I killed them all, Lux. I killed Mylo and Claggor and dad... And when Violet realized what happened, she... she said something. She called me something that would shape who I'd be forever. A name I took for myself the day... the night 'Powder' died. And she did die in that blast. I just didn't know it until my sister told me to my face."

She was too afraid to look at Lux. She wasn't saying anything, so maybe she was trying to process just who she'd been friends with this whole time... Jinx continued before one of them got cold feet.

"Shortly after, she was sent to jail. Pilties needed someone to blame and I was in the wind. My other dad had found me and taken me in after Vi and I fought. A crime lord named 'Silco'. The man who kept the Chembarons in check. He nurtured my curiosity. Kept me safe from the gangs... From myself. He never blamed me for what I'd done. He'd been Vander's friend before everything. I'd killed his friend, and he didn't blame me! Eventually, I grew up to be his number one closer. His little Boogeyman that exploded his enemies. And he had enemies, Lux! After Vander was gone he practically ran The Lanes, if not all of Zaun! He was a force to be reckoned with... And I was the little monster he had to make sure people stayed in line. I spent years killing my way out of facing my trauma, hearing the voices of my dead friends in my head, building my gadgets, blowing people up without a shred of remorse... Seeing my sister's face in the people I gunned down. I hated her, Lux. For years, I thought she'd left me to rot... I didn't know she'd been taken... I didn't know she still loved me. And, to be honest... Outside of Silco trying his best to be a crime lord and a part-time dad... I..." This was something she had never admitted to anyone. People who knew her could see it, of course, but she'd never said it out loud... "I didn't think I could be loved. I didn't think I deserved to be loved." And some days, when things get really rough, I still don't.

Warmth was the first feeling. Like a loving little oven had started microwaving her from the side. And when she turned, Lux was holding her tight. Her hands were glowing. Her face too! Her whole skin, dimly lit, warming up Jinx's body... She hadn't noticed she was cold. Lux just held her. And something about it melted her heart.

"It wasn't your fault."

Those were the first words that came out of Lux's mouth.

It was words Powder had wanted to hear her entire life.

She held her back. The warmth in her chest felt like a knot that had strangled her soul for ages had finally been undone. She allowed herself to sob as Lux kept talking, and she couldn't see her face, but she knew she was crying too. The lights turned yellow again. Warm and welcoming. Like a hug. Like a home.

"You were a child. You tried to help. You didn't know. It wasn't your fault, Powder. That night, that life, will never be your fault! Okay? And if anyone ever blames you for it, I'll light them up myself!"

And for the first time, she believed it.

Her eyes were dry at this point... She was out of tears. And that was okay. It was her that kissed Lux's cheek this time. She'd never really been known to be tender, but her Flashlight had earned it. She could be soft for one person, she thought. As a treat. For both of us.

They pulled apart.

"Thank you, Flashlight. But... Not 'Powder'." She'd made up her mind now. If anything happened to Lux, she would burn Demacia to the ground. "And... not 'Isha' either."

"Alright then." Lux wiped her eyes and stretched out a hand. She wanted to know everything about this person now. "Hello, miss. I'm Luxanna. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Jinx chuckled. She took her hand in hers. "Believe me, the pleasure is absolutely all mine, Luxanna." And she meant that with her whole heart...

"My name is Jinx."

[anika-ann]

Underneath the Christmas Tree (A.B.)

Type: one-shot, drabble-ish, floof

Pairing: Andy Barber x reader WC: 1100

Summary: Your Christmas might not be perfect, but the person you celebrate with is.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw for allusions to smut, clichés and huge amount of fluff, mentions of insecurity in reader, celebrating Christmas

A/N: a little something to raise the holiday spirits, in the honour of @stargazingfangirl18 who slipped into many inboxes to spread the hoeliday cheer 💕I hope she and all of you can profit from a sweet moment with one mister B🎄// divider by @firefly-graphics

“You’re being a grinch,” he teased you lightly, thick arm wrapping around your waist from behind to keep you flush to his front.

You only frowned harder as you placed the single box under your Christmas tree. It looked absurd among the five boxes from your lovely devoted irritating fiancé – of course you’d be a little grinchy about it.

This Christmas was supposed to be perfect – because Andy Barber was and he deserved nothing less than that in return. You had prepared three presents for Andy in total – or you had tried so. Until the most important one, one you ordered and had custom-made took longer than expected. You ordered two months in advance, so proud of yourself for figuring out the gift for the man who stole your heart without intention of ever giving it back… and then came December, than half of it went, and then the day before Christmas Day arrived, ten a.m., three p.m., eight p.m. and since the clock was about to struck midnight, something told you your package wasn’t about to arrive in time. All your insecurities about deserving the wonderful man momentarily soothing you in his generous embrace resurfaced, making you feel inadequate and just… not enough.

So yeah, you were scowling a little. Especially since Andy was maybe not laughing at your misery, but was definitely at least slightly amused by the way you were expressing it.

“It was supposed to be perfect,” you echoed your thoughts wearily, feeling the stupid tears gather in your eyes. Dammit.

It was just… Andy truly was your Prince Charming. Your one. A kind, caring man with the biggest heart you had ever encountered, a bit dorky, but with maturity most men at any age couldn’t even dream of, and with sweet, almost gentlemanly ways that went out of the window once the door of your bedroom closed behind you. Assuming you’d make it as far as the bedroom. Or even into your house.

He deserved everything that was good in this world and more and there were times when you doubted you were the one able to give it to him.

You felt him smile against your cheek as he pressed a soft kiss there, pulling you back from your thoughts – and to fall on your ass – to sit between his legs on the floor with a tiny yelp on your part.

“It is. ‘cause you are, sweetheart,” he whispered to your ear, causing you to side-glance him at his sappy ways.

A soft smile was playing on his lips indeed, serene face illuminated by the warm lights on your Christmas tree, eyes shining with contentment.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, suddenly at peace. Damn, he was gorgeous. Ruffled hair, pretty lips framed by his perfectly trimmed beard, white tee and simple grey sweats, like a god of domesticity and happiness in the most ordinary moments. How could you protest, how could you doubt anything at all when he was like that?

“I love you,” you said instead, earning a soft peck to your lips, a whispered declaration in return. “I just… I was really excited to give you the present you deserve.”

Andy’s plush lips stayed but a breath away, closing the distance again at your admission, last remnants of your gloomy mood evaporating as he kissed you again, this time slowly, deeply, loving.

Then, he inched away, your eyes fluttering open only to meet the mischievous sparkle in his eye.

Your heart skipped a beat. Ah-oh.

“What-“ He reached for the single gift you had placed under the three, pulling at the bow and stealing it for himself. “Andy!”

He laughed at your scandalized expression, taking your left hand – the one adorned by a charming ring he had placed there barely a month ago – and swiftly wrapped the ribbon around your wrist, tying another perfect bow.

Your shoulders sagged, your face probably revealing as much of your exasperation as adoration.

“Here. My perfect gift, in all its glory.”

“You, mister, are an old sap.”

He grinned. “And yet, you agreed to marry me.”

Your gaze flicked between the bow and the gorgeous diamond on your finger, the widest of smiles tugging at your lips. “Yeah, what was I even thinking-“

“Hey!” he protested, deft fingers sneaking under your silky bathrobe in a vicious attack at your most ticklish spots, having you try to squirm from his hold – only accomplishing changing your positions until he trapped you under him lied flat on the fluffy carpet, his weight on you as warm as his gaze.

“See? My perfect gift, now even lying under the Christmas tree, all mine to unwrap. I’m a lucky man, aren’t I?”

His fingers sneaked lower, brushing over your hips and to your thigh, his hand freezing. The sweet warm gaze turned heated, drawn to your lips as your tongue peeked out to wet them. You felt your face flush with heat, even as your chest puffed with pride.

Cat got his tongue now, did it?

“Sweetheart?”

“There’s… I thought we might cheat a little. I didn’t wrap this one,” you admitted, a little disappointed when his weight disappeared and he only straddled your thighs – but the feeling was quickly replaced by satisfaction when Andy tugged, peeling your robe off, eyes feasting on your body adorned with the new lingerie you had bought, your nipples instantly hardening under the see-though material under his appreciative gaze.

“So…” you hummed innocently, fully aware of the way his sweats barely hid his growing arousal, just like your excuse of panties couldn’t hope to hide the growing wetness of your core, “what do you think?”

Andy’s lip curled in a smirk that had you stomach somersault, his eyes dark as coal, soft fingertips trailing over the soft curve of your breast, brushing your nipple with clear intent.

“Well, sweetheart, I think you just almost made it to the naughty list,” he mused, his other hand toying with the little ribbons on the side of your panties, lightly puling on it until fell apart smoothly.

Your breath caught in your throat, heat pooling in your belly as his fingertips followed the pattern of lace above your mound.

“Almost?”

Andy’s smirk was positively devious as he leaned down to press a kiss to your cleavage, dextrous fingers undoing the bow on your other hip as well, baring you to his greedy touch.

“But when I’m done with all the things I want to do you, sweetheart, when you let me do every filthy thing I have on my mind now… I promise you that’s you’ll be right on the top it.”

And Andy Barber was a true gentleman; when he made a promise, he always always delivered on it.

Misc characters masterlist

Full masterlist

Again, many thanks to Siri - and happy peaceful holidays to us all 💕

Thank you for reading 🥰

[aliceisathome]

Man I love Wandee Goodday - this is a grown up bl that's managing to be funny, sexy and informative without becoming preachy. They are repping for everything from mental health and vaccines to communication, consent and fun sex. There's a femme guy who's managing a gym, an ace psychiatrist who's designing sex aids, sensitive boxers, and no evil female character. All this and a villain we all want to the boxer to punch. It's glorious.

Anyway our 'fake' boyfriends continue to be incredibly supportive of each other but NO! DOC! You got that pic of you and Ter out of the bin and saved it. Poor Yak - he looked so content poking around your shelves. Gah. Now he thinks you're still into Ter. Please tell me you're not still into Ter Dee - he's just a toxic habit you've given up surely?*

Kao channelling the viewers in this convo with Dee, and throwing truth bombs as usual. Once again proving he is the true MVP of this series - now give him someone to cuddle dammit.

I'm not sure how Yak resisted punching Ter just now but I loved Cher's little mother moment.

Holy arms Batman.

Aaand I'm back.

Every now and again I forget that there's nearly a decade's age difference between Dee and Yak - Dee might be smart but, as Kao knows, he's a little immature emotionally.

I'm more shocked by the fact that Dee wore his Teeny Tiger gear to Ter's place than that he left the candles burning. What are you doing Dee? Why did you stay? That smug bastard is complimenting your tiger costume - the tiger costume you should be keeping for Yak.

Honestly I don't blame Yak one little bit - he waits for ages then finds Dee in his sexy tiger getup with a half naked Ter. Do we think Ter deliberately sabotaged his bathroom tap? Yes, yes we do.

Loved Kao here.

Noooo - the inevitable break up. Sometimes I hate the narrative arc - I'd be happy just watching another 5 eps of Dee and Yak just being boyfriends and snuggly and domestic.

And now we have the crying. You silly men, both thinking it's the other who doesn't really care. The reach for the comfort of the necklace that's no longer there? Gutted. Literally gutted.

And now I feel sorry for Taem as well - I thought she liked Mr Student Council. Ter, not so much - even if I believed the manipulative fucker. And of course he passed out so we didn't get to see if Dee would have given him his first kiss while we did see Yak decide not to kiss Taem.

Cher, my sassy little queen, I love you so much. Please give your big boyfriend a smack for us. He is an idiot.

And this is not how I wanted the first kiss - I wanted it to be joyful. It was a good kiss - a great kiss - but neither of them were wearing their colour and they weren't lit by them either. That's what I want to see - them dressed in their yellow and purple, bathed in their light and declaring undying love. Give it to me now!

Wandee Goodday has been a happy counterbalance to the sheer stress and tension of My Stand In. Except this week. Ter and Tong are cut from the same cloth and they both deserve to have the snot slapped out of them.

But because Wandee Goodday has been so delightful so far, this episode has hit me hard - I need to go and watch something tooth achingly sweet and cuddle my cat.

*much like me and cigarettes - I gave up years ago but every now and again I still REALLY want one.

NB the interviews, bts etc are excellent - I don't usually watch these but Great and Inn are so good in them. They're both older than other GMMtv newbies and haven't grown up with the company so are just brilliantly relaxed and playful with each other. It looks like some of the dialogue and action is developed and/or improvised by these two as well - they're very naughty and Golf just lets them go for it.

[bonefall]

I like both ideas, bc it provides an opportunity for the Dark Forest to evolve in some way; I really like the idea of Curl taking lead and trying to make the Dark Forest cats united (not for any real GOAL, but bc they're still clan cats dammit, and separated in little pockets they'll never be able to grow).

The camp one is kinda obvious- it was a place of horror, but they need a place to stay. She never came too close to the place until she realized that if she wanted to unite the cats into a group, they needed a camp. And Starclan (she hisses at the irony) knows she'll never do it on her own. She enters, and it terrifies her- before she knows it shes backing away and fleeing. Over time though, she makes it further in, stays a bit longer. She finds the dens are still pretty decent, and that her heart feels a lot lighter as she rips down and destroys the cage. She's elated to find hierloom tools in the camp eventually- some are broken, but can be fixed. She purrs as she thinks how happy Darkstripe would be to have some proper cooking tools. This was a place of fear and death, yes, but it doesn't always have to be that way, does it?

The dogs less so but hear me out. At first she is haunted by the dogs, downright terrified- the gnashing of teeth, the frenzied barks. It's not even anything she can think or dwell on; as soon as she hears the howling and barking, she's immediately running away, fleeing as far as her paws take her. She knows she'll never actually die here, but she's still so, so scared. Maybe she comes to the conclusion on her own, or maybe someone else points it out, but eventually she realizes what you mentioned. She saved her CHILD- she should be PROUD, not scared. This is her greatest moment- her death an irrelevant footnote compared to her baby's life. Idk *exactly* how it should go, but she confronts her fear, and manages to 'tame' it. She is no longer afraid, this illusion holds no power over her. Either they fade away and just stop existing without Curl's fear to feed it, maybe they turn docile and harmless, idk. No matter what though, i have a feeling that something like THAT will catch the eye of some DF cats, sorta like a Tiny to Scourge deal. "She got rid of her land mar" into "She destroyed the land mar" to "She KILLED her land mar"- even the first one has to gain her some respect frok the others, and gives her a solid footing to try and get cats together and united.

Ask was sent a while ago, and I've been looking at it since then. It's a really good pitch, and I had things to do, so I just passively chewed it for a while. Both ideas are really good; so I was trying to think of some way to get them together.

I think I've got a good thought now;

I'll make Curlfeather's Land Mar dog related.

But they're not the same dogs that actually attacked her (which, depending on how the arc goes, might ACTUALLY be apparitions from the Dark Forest which Ashfur dragged out for his schemes. Specifically they'd be Brightheart's nightmares.)

Curlfeather's Hounds are blind. They hunt completely through "smell," and they smell her fear

I can keep her Land Mar being quite unique by actually having it follow her. Instead of it being a place she's trapped in, she's haunted by random dog events which will inevitably interrupt any plans she makes.

So she's perpetually close to making the group that she wants, uniting these demons just because it's what she deserves, but she is forced to flee when her hounds find her.

The camp she ends up using doesn't have to be her OWN Land Mar; I have another cat who actually has a 1:1 camp as theirs.

Morningstar, the deposed leader of ThunderClan who refused to allow his cats to fight. His is simply his camp, on the day where Pearstar invented the Right to Challenge and killed him for his position.

Morningstar's also HATED in the Dark Forest, because of his pacifism. Thinking about it, it's actually a great parallel for what I'm planning with Curlfeather!

She has disdain for her father because she sees him as weak. Reedwhisker swearing loyalty to The Kin after being tortured was her catalyst for believing he needed to die; that RiverClan would have a sniveling, careless leader.

So if it's Morningstar she ends up developing a bond with, they can help each other.

Morningstar can make her realize that her terrifying death by the dogs is something she can be proud of. That it isn't something to fear and revile, but a sign that when she was forced to choose between love and ambition, she chose love.

And Curlfeather can see that maybe people like Morningstar, who she'd always seen as weak, have wisdom she'd never considered. Uniting these cats isn't about power or recognition; it's just about helping to make everyone's lives better.

I can even keep the "empty camp" idea. Stepping into Morningstar's gloomy Land Mar, setting a little fire just to help with the mist, and realizing it's not all that bad. There's old tools laying strewn about, the dens are all in working order. We can make a proper home here, if we let it be.

There's probably a cage there because of Ashfur, maybe it's the one that he made the demons toss Rootspring into. Maybe I'll have the demons eventually trick Curlfeather's Sighthounds into Deadfrost's Labyrinth, if Shredtail's still around. He double-died in canon but I wouldn't be too opposed to killing someone else in his stead.

She'll also have to prove herself to the other demons. Most of them are pretty wary of "leader-types" after what happened with Tigerstar. Ironically the closest thing they have to a "leader" is Darkstripe because his soups are so good. If he doesn't like your vibe, you're cut off from the "Social Circle."

I need to make some sort of pun out of Rings of Hell and Social Circle. Social Ring of Hell.

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

Fishing

Eris Morn, the Drifter, and Crow go fishing.

Link to the story on Ao3 if you prefer to read it there

Crow coughed in surprise and tea went up his nose.

“You timed your phrasing on purpose and waited till he was drinking.”

“If I’m taking a hit to my pride, least I can do is get some fun out of it.”

Crow leaned over against the ground next to the tree he had been sitting with his back against, laughing.

Eris tossed the hunter an empty cloth bag to wipe his face.

They were a twenty minute walk from their camp. The rocks here formed a natural uneven stairway. Eris sat on the step above the one the Drifter was sitting on, slightly to his left. Crow was a few feet away, the red maple tree at his back leaned far over the edge of the rocks and looked like a hand clawing at the lake.

“You… you actually caught him?”

“I did.”

“And then she face-planted me into the dirt."

Crow put his tea mug down on the ground to keep from spilling it as he kept laughing.

"You deserved it."

"I mean yeah I did but I didn't expect to get my ass handed to me quite so thoroughly. I knew those eyes would give ya an advantage, I just under-estimated the extent of advantage it would be. Won’t be makin’ that mistake next time.”

“Hmmm… So you are already planning on being humiliated a second time.” She held her fishing rod in one hand while she sipped her tea. “Very well.”

Crow started laughing again.

“The original plan, which you agreed to, before the surprise bonus round last night, was best two outta three. You ain't actually won-won yet, Three-Eyes. I knew you were good. I figured you’d catch me at least once. Didn’t expect you’d do it so handily though. You sure are scary when you’re mad.”

“You threw me in the lake.”

“Yeah.” He laughed. “I did that. I deserved everything I got. I know.”

“It was very cold.”

“I am very much aware of that. I jumped in right after you and stayed wet longer than you, away from the fire. Thanks for that.”

"Hmmm…" Eris smiled smugly over her tea.

"You two are so much fun."

"Ha! Yeah," his voice softened and he gently bumped her knee with his shoulder, "yeah we are."

“So…” Crow smiled. “If I ever need to find the Drifter and can’t locate him…”

“That will not happen that easily for her again. I am already plotting my revenge.”

“Hmmm… So you’ll be seeking… vengeance?” Eris asked, laughing silently. “Against… me?”

Crow spit his tea again.

“I… dammit!”

“I look forward to seeing how this works out for you.” She put down her own tea mug and ran her fingers through his hair.

Crow’s fishing float bobbed on the surface of the lake. He reeled in his line only to find his hook empty and his bait gone. “At this rate I might have better luck diving in there with a knife.”

“I mean,” the Drifter tumbled a flat stone across his knuckles and palmed it. “If we’re going that way, why trust luck? Just use a grenade.” He shook his empty hand and then snapped his fingers. The stone reappeared in his fingers and tumbled across his knuckles again.

“We do not need to murder the entire lake for dinner. You are both just jealous that I have already caught a fish.”

“It is a nice fish, too,” Crow noted.

“Thank you.”

The Drifter stretched his arm out to his side and curled his wrist, holding the stone loosely, his fingers wrapped around its edge. He flicked his hand sideways, splaying out his fingertips and sending the stone skipping across the lake.

All three listened to the splashes.

“Was that nine times?” Eris asked.

“Yup. It was.”

“Hmmm…” She smiled. “Impressive.”

“Crow did eleven once.” Glint appeared from behind the bushes beside Crow.

Eris looked at Glint and then looked over at Crow.

“Once,” he admitted.

“You never believe anything I say,” Glint sulked.

“You have told far too many lies, little ghost,” said Eris, “for anything you say to be believed without question.”

“I don’t lie. I just… sometimes exaggerate and… adjust things for… narrative effect.”

“MmmHmm…” Eris sipped her tea.

“Weren’t you supposed to be finding them snipe tracks I sent ya for?” Drifter asked. “How long you been back?”

“Not long. I just got here as you were skipping the stone.”

“Gotta warn us when ya do that, Sparky, for… uh… safety reasons. I could’a accidentally hit ya with the rock.” The Drifter’s eyes glinted in a manner which indicated that, in different circumstances, it would not have been an accident.

“I’m sure I would have gotten out of the way but… thank you for your concern, Drifter. I’m sorry but I don’t think there are any snipes in this area. Nothing matched the tracks you described.”

“Huh… I guess there aren’t any then.”

Eris smirked. The Drifter had sent Glint off to ‘hunt snipes’ before telling Crow about losing to her at hide and seek. Crow could keep a secret. Glint could not.

Crow cast his newly baited line into the lake.

“Eleven, huh?” Drifter mumbled. “I can do that. Just gotta find the right stone. Hold this for me will, ya, Moondust?” He handed her his fishing rod.

“If I catch something with your rod it counts as mine,” she told him.

“Ugh!” The Drifter made a face. “Fine.” He slipped off silently into the woods.

Crow smiled. “Thank you for inviting me to fish with the two of you. This is fun.”

“Thank you for watching over us.” Eris smiled back. “It’s been very relaxing.”

“Getting thrown in the lake was relaxing?” Glint asked.

“That… has been…” Eris licked her lips. “...dealt with… little one.”

Crow snorted.

“I thought you were going to kill him.” Glint continued, his shell flaps wide. “I was surprised he was still alive when we arrived.”

“He has a ghost.” She smiled sweetly at Glint. “What makes you so sure I didn’t?”

Glint gasped. “So you did kill him.” He drew his shell in close and shuddered.

“Just think of how much worse my wrath might be should someone choose to spread gossip about what I did on my vacation?”

Crow opened his hand. Glint zipped over to hide in it.

“I don’t think you’ll have any problems with that, Eris.” Crow said. “Right Glint?”

Glint nodded and flew up to tuck himself into Crow’s hood, peaking out fearfully at Eris from beside his ear.

“Uh oh. Hold on now. I don’t want any trouble.” The Drifter’s voice came from the woods across the clearing.

Eris dropped the fishing rods and twitched her fingers as she stood. Her orb flew to her hand from the ground nearby.

Crow reached behind himself and pulled out his sniper rifle. He aimed in the direction of the Drifter’s voice, looking down the sights.

There was rustling in the bushes and the sound of branches snapping.

“You don’t have to do this.” Drifter’s voice continued, “We can just go our separate ways and no one needs to get hurt.”

Eris hopped lightly down the rocks to the shore and ran to the clearing, her soulfire sphere in her hand frosting over with stasis.

Crow repositioned to get a better angle and watched the Drifter back out from the treeline, his arms wide. The bushes he was facing rustled back and forth angrily. More twigs snapped.

A loud low growling came from the trees.

Drifter kept slowly walking backwards. “I do not want to get into it with you. You will lose. Back the fuck off. Last warning, asshole.” A coin appeared in his right hand.

A black bear lumbered into the clearing on two legs, making a loud, groaning, low-pitched growl. The Drifter snapped his fingers, igniting the coin in his hand with solar energy. He tossed it in front of the bear’s feet and it erupted in a large ball of fire.

The bear groaned loudly and whimpered, falling down to all four legs.

“Fuck off or I’ll do it again.” Drifter ignited another coin in his hand.

The bear turned and ran back into the woods with a lopsided gallop.

Eris’s orb skittered along the grass like a bowling ball, leaving a trail of ice behind it. It rolled around the patch that the Drifter had ignited, containing it, before looping inward to put out the flames.

The flaming coin in the Drifter’s hand disappeared.

“Thank you for that.” He turned to her with a smile. “Didn’t wanna do that deeper in the woods. Trees might’a caught and this place is too pretty to burn.”

“You could have just frozen it with stasis,” she told him.

“Yeah but that’d hurt ‘im and it ain’t his fault I was sneaking around his turf pickin’ up rocks. Big dumb jackass was just chillin’ at home and I scared ‘im. Probably didn’t hear me comin’ and then freaked out.”

“Did you at least get your rocks?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, because our fishing rods are probably in the lake now.”

“Ugh.”

. . .

Crow had had the presence of mind to stand on his fishing rod before it slipped into the water. Eris and the Drifter were not so lucky.

“Damn.” The Drifter stared into the dark and placid water.

“I guess that means I win.” Eris said smugly.

Drifter frowned. “I mean, I could go in after them.”

“How would you find them?” she asked.

“I’ve pulled salvage from liquid methane on Titan, Moondust. I can find a couple fishing rods in a lake. It’s just whether or not it’s worth getting cold and wet to do it.”

“I imagine Titan is considerably colder.” She sipped her tea and made a face. It was cold.

“It is. But with cold, there comes a point where the number just don’t matter any more. You remember Europa.”

“I do.” She poured the remnants of her tea out on to the ground.

“Plus for Titan, I got a suit. It’s kit-bashed, of course, but it does its job.”

“Perhaps we just let the fishing rods go then?” she asked.

As they looked out onto the water there was a splash and the Drifter’s ghost jumped several inches out of the water in front of them. It emitted its single tone and blinked its red light. It had fishing line tangled in its shell flaps.

Eris smiled.

The ghost plopped down into the water.

“That jackass is trying to show me up.”

"Trying?" Eris asked the Drifter.

"Hey!"

“Uh... did he dive under or was he pulled under?” Crow asked.

The ghost popped out of the water again, farther away. It was being dragged along the surface. The water rippled out from the ghost’s shell in a V for a few feet before it went under the surface again.

“I think he’s in trouble.” Glint said.

Eris frosted her orb, pulled her hand back and sent it whipping out over the water to where the ghost was last seen.

“I think he’s caught a fish,” she said.

“More like a fish caught him.” Crow added.

Drifter growled. “That dumbass.”

The ghost surfaced again, even farther out on the lake. Eris’s ahamkara bone flitted to it, splashing in the water next to it and freezing a small section of the surface. The ghost was now embedded in ice and being pulled around the lake.

Eris willed her orb to rise up and splash down into the water once more, creating more ice around the ghost, which slowed down the movement of it being dragged around, but did not stop it.

“Are you going to go in and get him or shall I?” she asked.

“Oh for fucks sake. I will.” The Drifter kicked off his boots and removed his socks. He handed Eris his gun and then waded into the lake.

“Shall I go back to camp and build up the fire?” Eris called after him, tucking his hand canon into the belt around her waist.

“Yeah.” He dove under the water and began to swim under the surface toward the ice raft his ghost was embedded in.

Eris tilted her head. “Now that it is daytime and I can see it, he swims very fast.”

“I can’t swim that fast.” Crow said.

“I cannot either.”

The Drifter surfaced halfway to where he was going and then dove back under the water again.

“He also can hold his breath for an impressively long time.” Crow commented.

Eris smirked. “That I already knew.”

Crow coughed uncomfortably.

“You will keep watch over them?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then I shall see you back at camp.”

Eris used her orb to re-freeze the water around the Drifter’s ghost to ensure the raft of ice would not thaw before he arrived, then she summoned the sphere back to her hand, took the bucket containing her fish, hooked her tea mug with her thumb, and disappeared into the woods.

This story is part of a series I wrote on Ao3 called Embers and Stars. While there are some individual stories rated Mature and/or Explicit for containing happy fun sexy times, those are set up with skip links so that if you prefer not to read that type of content you can still enjoy the story.

[rain-braiding-down-a-window-pane]

May I drop a harebrained Siegfried/Audrey theory in your askbox, since I've nowhere else to put it?

The real Siegfried, Donald Sinclair's, Audrey was a wealthy woman who bought them a manor house after they married and basically ensured he'd never be pressed for income again. (IIRC, *that's* when he finally made real-life James/Alf a full partner in the practice!)

Theory: Mrs. Hall is going to come into money. It's a bit odd that we've never heard a word about her relations other than Edward (have we? We've heard about the parents of every other major character) or what became of Mr. Hall - a random fortune could come from anywhere. Maybe the *reason* Audrey has never discussed her family is that there's something unexpected about them (well-to-do?) but they cut her off early in life for some reason - could hers have been a shotgun wedding? I think all we know about her wedding to Mr. Hall was that it took place during WWI and was small and hurried, right?

Or maybe the mysterious Mr. Hall is the one who comes into money, and leaves it to Audrey and Edward upon his inevitable untimely death.

In any case, Audrey comes into money and no longer *needs* her job, instantly negating the employer/employee barrier and the awkward power imbalances that go along with it. (Maybe she insists on leaving Skeldale since it would look improper for her to stay with no legitimate need for employment, and this precipitates Siegfried fiiiiinally making his move?)

I also think this will come at the end of the series, and may go hand-in-hand with S and A moving out and gifting Skeldale to James and Helen (which IIRC is also roughly equivalent to what happened in real life and has a sweet passing-the-torch-to-the-next-generation vibe). As much as I adore the Skeldale found family unit, the idea of Mrs. Hall becoming Mrs. Farnon and basically keeping on just as before but without a salary has always been a bit awkward. I don't think the series will end with two married couples living at Skeldale.

And anyways, I just love the idea of Audrey having a little Jane Eyre-ish arc and getting everything she deserves, dammit. It couldn't happen to a nicer fictional character.

(SORRY for just ranting in your inbox at length Pepe Silvia style, yikes, I'm just bursting with Thoughts™ and no one in my circle watches ACGAS!)

Feel free to drop me harebrained theories, I like reading them!

I too, would like to hear more about Audrey's past. Beyond her ex-husband, Edward and the Wrens, we don't really know anything else about her pre-Skeldale.

Like you, I struggle with the idea that if when Siegfried and Audrey do get married, Audrey simply carries on cooking and cleaning and whatnot, even though she's the lady of the house now, and for no money. I think she's used to her financial independence, and may struggle with the idea of being reliant on Siegfried for money. I also think she likes to be busy, so not doing all the jobs would be challenging for her too.

Audrey coming into a bit of money could help push aside those boundaries, and they could then approach the relationship more as equals. It could be quite a neat way, and a good catalyst, for them finally getting together.

I don't think the show is following too closely what happened irl, particularly when it comes to Siegfried and Audrey, so sadly, I don't think she's coming into money any time soon.

Audrey, however, really does deserve all the best things.

[ro-sham-no]

Sam fucked up.

Dean had always teased him for being a try-hard at school (with a secretly proud smile he thought Sam couldn’t see or wouldn’t notice, but oh, Sam noticed). He’d tease Sam, saying it would bite him in the ass one day, and now, at Stanford, it had finally happened.

Betrayal of all betrayals, the professor of the only prereq class he actually liked had given him extra work. It's not a big deal, not really, just reading out his stupid, gay-ass prose about his big brother in front of a crowd of people, all to get out of taking a final... Dean was across the country, so what could go wrong?

cw: wincest, referenced underage sex (barely), questionable prose lol

includes excerpts from "sweetness" - stephen dunn

“I’m telling you, man, they’re gonna expect more from you ‘cause you’re putting in all this extra effort.”

Dean was speaking in that slow, crooning voice that he always got when they were alone together in the quiet, like he was afraid to break the silence but still wanted to fill up Sam’s head with the sound of his voice so bad that he couldn’t stop himself. As if the way he was smoothing his hand up and down the breadth of Sam’s bare ribs and stomach - all palming and grabby, groping at Sam like he owned him - as if that didn’t already nail Sam’s focus and affection to the cross of their shared devotion. As if he needed to do anything at all, other than exist, to completely own Sam from the inside out.

Sam shook himself out of his trance to respond, huffing that scoff-laugh that only little brothers manage to pull off, reaching up to trap Dean’s hand against Sam’s stomach, splayed and possessive but finally stilled so Sam could actually think for a second. But before he could come up with a counter, Dean continued, sweet and slow in his ear, like syrupy molasses that’s just warm enough to drip and run down the spoon, 

“I swear, if we stayed in one place for longer than it takes Dad to fuckin’ blink, they’d have you up to your ears in extra work by now.”

Sam hummed at that, all smug younger brother proving a point, “Well I guess it doesn’t matter then, huh, Dean? ���s not like the old man’s that old, his blinks aren’t slowing down anytime soon,” said with a finality that shut Dean up, finally granting Sam some goddamn peace as they basked in the feel of each other’s bed-warmed skin.

And that was that. Still, they rehashed it a few times, here and there whenever it got brought up.

Sam flicked Dean’s hand off his shoulder because, “I need to finish my homework, Dean. There’s a quiz on it tomorrow,” providing the perfect opportunity for Dean to bring up that old argument once again. Calling him a try-hard and a teacher’s pet, distracting him enough to bully him into their bed, away from his homework, and suddenly enveloped in the warm arms of his older brother - devious bastard that he was, dammit. 

Sam always got 100s on those quizzes, anyway. But that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy the chase, the thrill of seeing Dean be jealous of a piece of fucking paper and a pen before Sam caved and they fell together oh-so-sweetly.

But that was then, when the metaphorical speed of Dad’s blinks still kept them flitting from place to place. Now, Sam had already been in this place for 9 months, consecutively, and he was in for at least another 3.25 years. Four years he would be here, and that’s where Sam fucked up, forgetting his “wise” older brother’s warning (because he’s not here to remind me), and it had finally happened.

Betrayal of all betrayals, the professor of the only prereq that he actually liked, Dr. Morris, had given him extra work. All because,

“This is really something special, Sam! I really think people deserve to hear it.” She saw Sam begin to protest but cut him off, continuing, “From the author’s mouth, don’t give me that. That’s you, in case you’ve conveniently forgotten. C’mon, the literary arts event is next week and they’ve been asking me to fill an inspired composition spot. I think this is the perfect work to fit right in, with the way you’ve expanded on Dunn’s poem, interpreting meaning from it and making it your own- just, Sam, I seriously want you to consider presenting it.”

“It” was an assignment to write a piece about or inspired by one of the poems Dr. Morris had covered in class recently. One of them had tugged at Sam’s recently-shredded heartstrings, and so he wrote something inspired by it - so sue him if he wrote a little prose, alright? But, Christ, it was soft and mushy and it was horrifically revealing. But he didn’t have time to redo it, so this was what he was stuck with.

Damn, she’s really trying to sell this, Sam thought with a sigh. 

Once again, though, his professor cut him off, this time with a conspiratorial look on her face, “Besides, a little birdy told me that the final for this class might be optional if you participate in the event…” 

Well, that’s just diabolical.

Sam pinched his nose with yet another sigh, arms clutched around his notebook, which conveniently contained the exact literary “work” Dr. Morris had been raving about for the last ten minutes. All Sam had wanted to do was to make sure that it fit what she was expecting for the homework prompt before he turned it in, and then she’d trapped him.

He really did hate taking tests for this class, too, and she knew that. UGH.

“Fine, Dr. Morris, you win! But that little birdy better be tellin’ the truth or another little birdy is so gonna write the meanest course review this school has ever seen, I swear to god,” he pointed his finger at her accusingly, eyebrows raised in faux intimidation.

She laughed along with him at his empty threat, holding up her hands in mock surrender with a gasp, “No, not an angry student review! What about my career?” 

She sobered a little, “The birdy is telling the truth, Sam, I promise. You know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Sam nodded with a rueful smile, “I know. Thank you, Dr. Morris, I’m uh- well, I’m glad you liked it.”

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

-

It was worse. So, so much worse. God, Sam fucked up, colossally.

Somehow, his friends had gotten wind of his little performance - something about a poster with his name on it? (Damn you, Dr. Morris!) - and now Sam was about to go on stage and make a fool of himself in front of both liberal arts and now STEM majors alike. Four STEM majors, specifically, his “friends,” and he was never going to hear the end of it after this. 

I’m not even out to these people, what was I thinking? They’re gonna know, now. Sure hope they’re fuckin’ cool with it.

And, beyond that, he’d only read through the piece a total of two times without crying like a fucking baby. Reduced to hiccupping sobs over the stupid poem, and over his stupid feelings laid bare on the page, and over his stupid fucking brother that he’d basically broken up with when he came here like the incestuous freak that he was, and-

Goddammit.

Sam pinched viciously at his thigh through his pocket to stop his eyes from prickling.

This is gonna be a disaster.

But the final would be worse, Sam was sure, and he didn’t want to disappoint Dr. Morris - like the total sucker that he was - so he was gonna man up and do this thing.

The person on stage before him finished up their piece and, is the crowd seriously fucking snapping? Jesus Christ, these people are pretentious. Thankfully, pretentious or not, the event wasn’t that formal. They were just outside on a small stage, with standing and sitting room in front of it. Casual. Easy.

Yeah, right.

Still, Sam steeled himself and stepped out onto the stage as prompted, calmly raising the height of the mic stand while the event coordinator introduced him to the audience, “Thank you for that wonderful reading. Now stepping on stage is Sam Winchester, with a literary reading of his work, inspired by the poem “Sweetness” by Stephen Dunn.”

Sam cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly, “Ah, thank you, for that introduction. So… this is just a piece I wrote based on that poem, which uses the term “sweetness” to describe more than just sensation - to me, it describes a feeling, an emotion, and even a person. That’s something that really struck me, and is the basis of what you’re about to hear.”

While he was speaking, he scanned the crowd and- yep, there were his friends, waving and cheesing so hard it made his own mouth twitch a little in response, amused at their amusement. Still, there was this odd feeling, almost like… nevermind.

He cleared his throat again, purposefully this time, and began, “Often, a sweetness comes and changes nothing in the world, except the way we stumble through it. Our sweetness, the one we make between us, changes the world - my world -  because of the way you envelop me entirely. The sweetness between us changes the world, shrinks it down to the size of your mouth, to the size of your hands.”

Images flash in Sam’s mind: silver ring; cupid’s bow; black bracelets on twin right-wrists, like their own secret wedding bands.

“But the world is no smaller for it, even though it’s shrunk to fit the shape of your body. 

It’s still ever-expansive, always with something new to explore. New gasps to wring out from the valley of your mouth. New ways to bruise and mar the landscape of your skin, changing its terrane to map out the topography of our love, our sweetness, and the way it blisters between us… 

Staining, always staining.”

Golden skin that’s littered with scratches, hickies marring it in impossible places, and freckles that reach out to Sam like starlight.

“Some days you believe it stains us down to the soul level. Those are the days I spend sick with heartbreak because those are the days you won’t touch me. Those are the days you won’t touch me, when you can’t even bear to look at me, littered as I always am (and how I always want to be) with the stains of our shared, world-changing sweetness. You see the stains on those days and, instead of cherishing them the way I would bid you to, you are sickened by them.”

A memory, now,

That beloved cupid’s bow stretched out in a self-deprecating sneer, “This is wrong, Sam! God, look at what I’ve done to you, I should be fucking locked up. You don’t even want this, you can’t!”

“Even worse, you’re saddened by them, the stains that I cherish, convincing yourself that you’ve doomed me by them. On those days, you believe you’ve doomed me to an eternity of fire and brimstone, even though the only God either of us truly believes in takes on the form of the finger-shaped bruises you leave on my thighs and the teeth-sized scars I’ve left in your skin.”

The stains, god, the stains: tear tracks on freckled cheeks, red and puffy eyes so unused to crying, bloody knuckles from losing to brick walls.

Sam’s eyes prickled. One hand went from the podium to his pocket and gouged its nails into flesh, welts forming on top of already-present bruises.

He cleared his throat again, blinking harshly, “But even if that were true, that you have doomed me, my love, then please: let me be doomed. The truth is that I am doomed. I am condemned by the shade of your eyes, by the strong elegance of your wrists, and the way your head tilts when you focus that I’ve never told you about.

I am doomed by the sinuous-sinful curve of your lips and your waist, by the crinkles caused by your breathtaking smile, and by the shade of reddish-orange on your teeth when you consume me. I am stained by these things, and for that, I am doomed.”

Sam's fingernails were digging into his skin through his pocket, but he still had to pause to sniffle off to the side, hopefully out of the range of the microphone. But the movement of his head let his peripherals sweep over the crowd and, there- the feeling from before was back, or maybe it was just stronger, now, never having left. 

The feeling that he was being watched, but not just by anyone. It was a feeling he’d memorized during late nights with the lights out, not seeing but nevertheless knowing that Dean was watching him, staring at him, in the dark. And that’s what it felt like, now, but that’s impossible… right?

He continued, “I am stained by our sweetness, and so are you. We are stained and left wanting, always wanting, because there is no sweetness that’s ever sufficient to leave us sated, never to be needed again. For that, there is no sweetness that’s ever sufficient, because it comes as if on a loan, ripped away at a moment’s notice. Re-possessed with an interest rate that leaves us desolate and bereft.”

His eyes were tearing up actively by then, and he knew it, but he couldn’t spare the thought to worry about it. Not while he was overwhelmed with DeanDeanDean, trying so desperately to avoid looking in that corner but- the figure ducked behind a group of people stuck close together, and wasn’t that just telling? Telling, but also heartbreaking, because,

He won’t answer a fucking phone call, but he’ll haul ass across the country in two days to come see me read some half-assed prose?

Sam regularly tracked Dean’s phone, see, so he knew where he was two days ago: middle-of-nowhere Indiana. How the hell he had heard about Sam’s current predicament? Sam couldn’t even begin to guess. But he’d learned of it, somehow, and had driven thirty-four out of the last forty-eight hours to get here and watch Sam fall apart on a sound stage, California-tanned cheeks lit up in the golden evening light and soon to be glistening with tears that he couldn’t seem to stop from forming.

There’s no way he doesn’t know this is about him. Fuck. It’s Dean, he’s here, and he’s hearing me turn whatever the fuck we had together into this flowery, perfume-tinted crap. Fuck.

He came to see me. He’s here. Fuck.

Sam searched for Dean in the crowd without a care for the rest of his audience, voice coming out strong and clear as he spoke directly to him, suddenly bold,

“But the loan lender is you, and I, the borrower, the loan holder. The interest rate is your guilt, entwined with your ever-infuriating sense of righteousness, and you rip away the loaned-out sweetness when it starts to make too much sense. 

When the sweetness starts to come too easily for your self-flagellating tastes, that’s when my payments are no longer sufficient. You rip away our sweetness and make it return to its supposedly dark source, the one you conjure up for it in your mind.”

Sam blinked tears out of his eyes and they rolled down his cheeks, but just he didn’t care. 

Dean stood frozen, mouth open and tears of his own making his eyes turn that same puffy shade of pink that it always did. His left hand was rubbing over his bracelet, on the same wrist as always, mirroring the one on Sam’s own wrist. Unsubtly, Sam reached over to shrug up his sleeve and reveal the black bracelet he also wore.

More glimpses of memories, Right hand reaching out to right hand, clasping awkwardly between them but it felt right, so right, to see the claim they’d put on each other stated so loudly, stark black lines so obvious across their wrists.

Dean’s golden amulet gleaming in the light, dragging across Sam’s chest as Dean stayed above him, so deep inside Sam that he swore he could taste it. He shivered at the cold touch of the metal, but all he could feel was warm.

They were holding each other’s gaze, now, and Sam’s face was twisting up as he tried desperately to choke out the next words, tried to reach out with his brain waves to shove them into Dean’s own skull, to make him understand,

“But-” he sniffled again, into the mic this time, “But as for me, in the end, I don’t care where our sweetness has been, within the depths of your mind. I don’t care what bitter road it’s had to travel, through the muck and the mire of your unfounded shame, your self-made sorrows and imaginary transgressions.”

Sam was one step away from weeping at that point, voice strangled and cracking intermittently as it rose in pitch, tears streaming all ugly down his reddened face, roughly scrubbed away by a stray hand. This was the most direct Sam had ever been with Dean, a lifetime of silent looks and unspoken words suddenly torn wide open; his ugly, accusatory feelings laid bare, but mixed in with forgiveness, and with yearning for a reunion that Sam knew was never going to happen. 

It was exhilarating. It was terrifying.

Dean looked gutted, and it twisted up Sam’s own insides even more in response. He was clutching his bracelet-ed wrist tightly to his stomach, twisting the strands of it between his fingers in an uncharacteristic show of nerves. His brow was furrowed and his mouth was shaped with that familiar, guilt-ridden sadness, the set of his shoulders belying his age, making his 22-years-young appear suddenly ancient.

All the responsibility and burdens of a brother, a boyfriend, and a parent- a mother, wrapped up onto one person’s shoulders. Sam could only imagine how heavy it was. 

“Because oh, my sweetness - and that is what you are, what you have been this whole time - when the sweetness finally returns, when you have come back to me, I don’t care how long I’ve been in its absence, or rather in your absence.”

Sam could just barely make out the tempo of the tears streaming down Dean’s face as they fell, though he wasn’t sure if he could actually see them, or if he just knew the rhythm of Dean’s anguish better than his own heartbeat. 

Dean was a boy full of a sadness that was forced to stagnate, forced to fester and rot inside him, never to be allowed out. The rot was pouring down his face from where he stood in the crowd. Sam thought he’d never looked more beautiful than how he looked right now, back in Sam’s life after the longest time they’d ever spent apart.

“I don’t care what bitter road you’ve traveled to come back so far, to taste so good. It’s okay, it’s alright! Please, my love: lower your hackles, you’re on that bitter road no longer. It’s okay, and I don’t care, I’ve never cared, because in the end you come back, and for all of your travels, you never fail to taste so, so good.”

Sam fell silent and stepped back from the mic, smiling that sheepishly awkward, too-dimpled smile of acknowledgement and faux-gratitude to the crowd to signify his conclusion, never quite taking his eyes off Dean even as the crowd hesitantly-to-enthusiastically applauded his work.

Then Sam blinked, and Dean was gone.

[willowedhepatica]

avatrice + one more kiss

Beatrice pressed on the wound and thought of love. 

It was like a bruise, spread over her body and stained her fingers like the blueberries Ava picked at the edge of a forest one Sunday morning when the sun hadn't quite reached the top. 

She couldn't really pretend it wasn't real anymore. She'd tried. So adamantly in fact that Ava got concerned and thought she was becoming sick. 

Yes. She'd wanted to say. 

Yes there's something wrong. My body wasn't meant for love. It treated it like a virus it needed to force away in order for her to survive. 

Because that's what it was, wasn't it? A sickness. How else could she explain why her heart thrummed harder now then it had ever done in battle? How else could she explain why her chest squeezed whenever Ava came close. Touched her. Smiled. 

It went through her like a shiver. Like her body couldn't quite handle it and needed to get rid of it as fast as it struck her. 

There's something wrong with me. My body can't take love. 

Maybe it was just Ava she couldn't take. There was something so overwhelmingly astronomic about her. She wanted to grab the stars. Wanted to cup the river in her palm and drink it up. It all lived inside her. Coming out in the gestures of the sun that made her in constant motion. Bright smiles that showed teeth. Laughter rang through the air and settled on her lips like the homemade lemonade Ava had insisted Beatrice should try at the little wooden stand a girl had put up. It was far too sweet, drowned out the lemons and only left the concept of pressed fruit in her mouth. She'd drank it anyway. Because it was Ava – and drowning in it had already become a constant notion. 

She'd never expected it to burst free. Had prepared for it to be caged up inside her for the rest of time. But Ava tugged at strings Beatrice couldn't control and somehow made her fall. 

Honestly, fuck that, it was expected. It was Ava. And like Ava did, it happened in the midst of battle where everything around them felt like an explosion. The clang of weapons and ringing of steel. It was only fair for her to match her surroundings with the intensity of her own heart. 

She had this look in her eyes. Beatrice was sure she'd been hiding something but it wasn't this– undoubtedly, it happened because Ava – ridiculous, foolish Ava – decided upon facing Adriel on her own. It happened because Ava decided that was the end. 

And in the end, everything was allowed to explode. Ava kissed her. Everything in Beatrice's body reacted – a supernova, a flat line – a car crash, a wound reopening and spreading like fire. 

If this was what sickness felt like she wanted more. Let it swallow her. Let it take her over and mend her back together.

Ava pulled away far too early and Beatrice chased after her. Wanted to feel Ava's lips against her own for a little longer. Wanted to etch the feeling into memory. 

Just one more... 

Please, just one more so we could stay in this eternity – only you and me together – without the existence of war. 

Please just one more, she wanted to beg. Don't leave me with the memory of how you taste on my lips while you sacrifice yourself for the world that was never kind to you. 

But Ava only smiled, traced a thumb over her cheek and told her to live. God dammit, Ava. She was the one who was supposed to live. She was the one who deserved more. She deserved to drown in the love she'd given the world so effortlessly.

If I had kissed you one more time, would that have made you stay?

[beastofburdenxo]

Raising Catherine Chapter 2

Catherine is 16 now and wants to date. Tommy is not having it.

No smut, Language, violence, mention of sexual assault. 1.8k words

Catherine had a boy at school interested in her. He was a little older and was considered popular, so she was beyond excited. He wanted to take her out one Friday night, and being the good girl she is, decided that she should run it by Tommy first. He's not her dad, not really, and she’s almost grown so she shouldn’t have to. But she thought it was the right thing to do. After school, she goes to his study, where he pretty much lives. “Hello, Cathy dear, how was your day?” Tommy asks, already knowing about the said boy. Nothing gets passed Tommy Shelby. “It was alright. Can I ask you something?” Tommy puts his paperwork down, knowing where this is headed, “Sure love, what is it?” He didn’t want to break her little heart, but she wasn’t dating, not over his dead body. “Umm, so there’s this guy at school, and he wants to-” He wouldn’t let her finish her sentence, “No way, Cathy. I’m sorry, but you're not ready to date yet. Especially not that one.” adding to her incredulous look, “Yes, I already know about him.”  

“Of course, you do.” she mumbles. “Once again sweetheart, I know his family and it’s best you stay away. I’m sorry, love.” Catherine gets angry at this. “I’m 16 now, Tommy, not some silly child. You aren’t even my father!” Hearing that he isn’t her father sends him into a rage, “I may not be your father, but I love you like one!” He bellows, “I promised your father on his deathbed that I would take care of you, and that’s what I’m doing here! Believe it or not he would agree with me! The answer is no, and that’s final dammit!” Tommy has never so much as raised his voice at her before, much less cursed at her, and this causes tears to well up in her eyes. “Have it your way, I'll be alone with you forever! No one will have me!” Catherine runs to her room to sob into her pillow, face red and defeated. Tommy puts his head in his hands. “Maybe I shouldn’t have yelled at her, she didn’t deserve that. She didn’t have to ask me really. She's right, I'm not her dad.” he sighs, and pours a drink, “But going with him is a bad idea. She just doesn’t know it yet. I'm doing the right thing here. Yes, I am. She'll be fine.”  

Catherine is fuming. She will not allow Tommy to control her life any longer. The next day she tells her suitor to meet her in town after dark. She will have her date, regardless of if Tommy likes it or not. The school day drags by, and she tries her best to avoid Tommy at all costs when she gets home. Normally, she stops by and says hello, but not today. “Oh, she’s still angry,” Tommy thinks to himself at Catherine’s snub, “She won’t even speak to me. I hate this teenage phase. We never got into it when she was just a child.” Sighing, he decides to give her some space, and try to make peace later that night at dinner. Catherine is cold even at dinner, delighted in the plan she has for later tonight. Refusing to speak to Tommy just to rub salt in the wound. Night falls, and she gets ready to make her escape. Nervous at disobeying Tommy, but excited that the same time, she climbs out of the window. Tommy is pacing in his bedroom, upset at how things are going with Catherine. He didn’t want it to go this far and went to her room to try and pass the olive branch and call a cease fire. He entered after no answer to find her room empty. He looked everywhere in the house for her, nothing. Knowing what she did causes his anger to flare up all over again. She went anyways. 

Several hours later, Tommy is waiting for her return in the living room. Fuming is an understatement. Catherine drags herself through the front door, not bothering with the window. She is holding her arm, shaking, her face tearstained. Tommy marches to the door, ready to give her an earful. “HOW DARE YOU-” he starts, until he sees Catherine fall to her knees with a pitiful sob. “Something is very wrong.” he thinks to himself, “Oh god, something bad happened.” He dashes to her aide as she curls into a ball on the floor. “Cathy, love, what’s wrong? What happened?” He gently reaches out his hand to touch her, and she almost jumps out of her skin. “Hey, hey now, it’s me love. It’s Tommy. Tommy’s here love, what happened to you?” He picks her off the floor and carries her to the couch. “Talk to me Cathy. I know you snuck out, but that can wait. Sweetheart, look at me.” Catherine looks up at him with pure fear in her normally sweet eyes. “T.T.T.Tommy I'm sorry,” she stuttered, “You were right Tommy I’m sorry.” Tommy strokes her hair to calm her, “Sweetheart, what happened?” he asks, pulling her to his chest, “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?”  

Catherine pulls up her sleeve to show the already forming bruise there in the form of a handprint. “Things were going okay until. Until. Until” She couldn’t finish her sentence through the sobs. “Until what, Love?” he gently prodded. “It’s okay, you can tell me.” Tommy wipes her face, waiting till she’s ready to continue. “He wanted to have sex, and I said no,” Catherine cries, “H-H-He got mad and tried to put his hand up my dress!” Tommy held her tight, fuming for another reason now. He holds her face in his hands, trying to steady his nerves. “H-H-He grabbed my arm really hard when I tried to get away, pulling me to him. I was so scared; I kicked him and ran Tommy! I just ran!” Tommy rocked her back and forth while she wailed. “I’m so proud of you, love. You did so good. My little girl, always my little girl.” Catching her breath she asked, “You’re not mad at me? I disobeyed you.” Tommy kissed her forehead. “I’m not happy you snuck out, but I'm even more furious about you getting attacked. You certainly didn’t deserve that. You have nothing to be sorry for, love. I’m not mad at you, I'm mad at him. He will be taken care of, I promise. I love you so much Cathy sweetheart.”  

He holds her in his arms as he takes her to the bathroom to get cleaned up. After her bath, all warm and dry, he brushes her hair. “Just like old times, eh? I remember doing this all the time almost like a ritual. You had to teach me how to do your hair, I had no idea.” he chuckles at the memory. “My sweet Cathy, still my sweet Cathy.” This makes her cry all over again, “Am I still sweet Tommy? What if he tells everyone that I did do it? What if-What if-” Tommy cuts her off as he bends down to look her in the eye. “You will always be sweet to me, love. You did nothing wrong. He betrayed your trust, and he will pay for that. I’ll get him before he can spread anything, and that is a promise to you.” Tommy allows her to sleep with him just like old times, wanting her to be close and safe. Cursing that bastard and his family for what he did to his baby girl. 

The next morning, Tommy sends Catherine off with Polly to go shopping. Handing Polly a stack of cash after telling her what happened. “Whatever she wants, whatever makes her happy. Take her mind off things for a bit.” Polly’s eyes fill with tears, “You take care of this now, Tommy, or I will.” Tommy just solemnly nods, “It’s why I'm sending her with you. He will be brought here and handled. Arthur and John are getting him as we speak.” After the two girls leave for their day trip, a car pulls up the driveway. “I’ve got a piece of shit for a Tommy Shelby.” John says, hanging out the window. “Take him to the backyard, I’ll be there shortly.” Arthur pulls the guy out of the car, “Accidently” throwing him to the ground. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I hurt you? That’s nothing compared to what Tommy will do. We’ll see if you make it out of here alive.” John then kicks him for good measure before dragging him to the backyard. “You should know better than to fuck with the Shelby’s. Cathy is one of our own blood or not, and you will not get away with touching her!”  

They make it to the backyard, Tommy is waiting, gun in hand. John puts him in front of Tommy, all beaten and bruised from their fun with him, kicking him behind the knees making him kneel. “So, you are the bastard that hurt my little girl, eh?” Tommy asks, looking down at him. Eyes electric with fury. “Thinking I wouldn’t find out, eh? I fucking know everything, I'm always two steps ahead. Couldn’t just go to a whore like any other guy, no, you wanted my Cathy, eh?” Tommy spits in his face, “Like she would have you! No respectable woman would! You fucked with the wrong one today, didn’t you? Now normally, I would watch you get cut like a hog and bleed out, but that is for business, this here is personal.” Tommy cocks his gun and points it at the man’s head, “An animal like you doesn’t deserve to live. If it wasn’t my Cathy, it would be some other poor girl and I can’t live with that. I'm doing this town a fucking service, taking the trash out.” Tommy stands there, listening to him plead for his life, “I’ve done a lot of things,” Tommy shouts over the crying, “But I have never tried to force a woman, and after today you won’t either.” 

Two gun shots ring out, one going to the man’s balls, the other his head. In that order. Silence takes over the wailing, as Tommy puts his gun away. “Bury him, burn him, chop him up, I don’t give a fuck,” Tommy tells his brothers, “Just get the piece of shit out of my yard, his name is not to be mentioned again. It's done.” Both Arthur and John nod, taking the body to who knows where. Now, when Tommy promised himself that he would keep her from hurting again, he meant it. The town would know he meant it. He would kill again if he had to. For her. Catherine is to be kept safe. His Catherine. By order of the Peaky Blinders.

[akirakirxaa]

FFXIV Write Day 3: Extra Credit

Rating: Teen

Wordcount: 771

Warnings: Major injuries, Endwalker Spoilers

Summary: Two dear friends decide to stay after all.

Master Post

Everything was agony.

Every breath, every muscle twitch. Akira had pushed beyond her limits before, but this was something else. Maybe if she hadn’t already given everything she had to stopping the Endsinger, this would have been nothing. Just another fight, another foe felled.

But she had. She had given everything and, despite it, she gave more. Chose to give more. And though the rival that had dogged her steps since — gods, it felt like a lifetime ago that they had fought at Rhalgar’s Reach — lay still and silent not a few arm-lengths away, she feared she would not be long behind him. She won, but at what cost?

She thought of her friends. Would they even know what had happened? How long would they wait before they realized she wasn’t coming? Would they even know where to look for her?

She gazed out at the endless sky. At least it was a peaceful place to die. She knew many who went before her that were not so lucky. She watched the sky as darkness gathered at the edges of her vision, until she could no longer hold her eyes open. A heaviness crept at the edges of her consciousness.

“Dammit, Hero!” She heard a familiar, an impossible, voice, and she tried to respond, tried to reopen her eyes, but she was just so, so tired. She felt a hand take hers, and she tried to grip it, to twitch her fingers, anything, but she just had nothing left in her.

The darkness surged, and she fell into the black.

~*~

Hades grit his teeth in frustration. How was he supposed to get any rest when she went around throwing her life away every time he tried? He called out to her again, but she didn’t respond, the only proof that she let lived the shallow movements of her chest.

He should just let her meet her fate. He should return to the lifestream and get on with his own well deserved rest. But somehow the idea of it just felt horrifically wrong.

The idea that she would just be left to rot so far from home rankled, and so here he was, going back on his own word that he would never accept Hydaelyn’s magic to continue living. And he knew, could feel, that if he didn’t return to the lifestream now that this would be permanent. He heard the quiet sound, not unlike that of teleportation, and calm footsteps that heralded the arrival of he whom Hades had been ready to burn the world down to get back.

“You don’t have to come with me,” the words were gruff, rueful. Hades would not deny Hythlodaeus the rest he also deserved after everything the Convocation’s decisions had put him through.

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” Hythlodaeus smiled warmly at him, and Hades couldn’t find the resolve to argue otherwise with him. Maybe he was too selfish after everything, but if he was going to stay, he would rather have Hythlodaeus with him.

Especially when there was no guarantee that Akira would even want him around.

He had seen the tears she held back when they left just before the final confrontation, but emotions were riding high, surely they were not for him.

Hythlodaeus brushed his hair back as he stepped forward, crouching on Akira’s other side and running a hand, hovering just over her body, along her. The healing magic glowed, stabilizing her though she still did not respond to Hades’ prompting.

“Do you know how to get to her ship?” Hythlodaeus asked, and Hades grit his teeth. No, no he didn’t. Their view from the lifestream, from their connection to Azem’s crystal, was not perfect. But just as Hades was about to go looking on his own, there was a flash and a small blue bird appeared before them, clutching a flat tablet in its claws. Hythlodaeus started towards it, but Hades stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, approaching instead.

It will take you to her friends, Meteion’s voice echoed in his head, and he snatched the tablet, still feeling less than charitable towards the creation. He passed it to Hythlodaeus with a quick “Hold this” as he stooped to scoop up Akira’s still disturbingly lifeless form.

This is not pointless she’s still breathing several of her friends are healers surely they will be able to fix this.

Hythlodaeus took one of her limp hands and, somewhat awkwardly one handed, pressed the largest button on the pad. The two ancients exchanged an apprehensive glance just as the tablet activated, and the three of them vanished.

[heard-nsfw-is-back]

Steddie but I try and fix my own parental trauma

Steve was packing up. His parents had been gone for three months. Longer than they ever have. Longer than was fair. After two months and trying to call any one that might know where his parents were turning up nothing he gave up and figured that this was when they gave up the ghost and finally abandoned him. He didn't have a lot to pack but dutifully he was emptying the fridge and unplugging all the appliances to make sure nothing went bad or stale. Shit, did his parents even deserve that much? On the way to the trash bin the bag broke and he just kicked at it and started screaming. His body hurt, he was tired. He was alone. His parents didn't fucking care. Frustrated and sniffing he sat down debating on just leaving it there. Let it rot. Let this house rot. Let him rot. Steve was just. Done.

Two car doors slammed shut and the smell of his mother's perfume shook him out of his thoughts. "Wh. Huh? Mom?" Steve's mom was crying and wiping at his face. "Steve! Steve what's wrong baby what happened?" His dad looked around at the trash. "You didn't get hurt did you, son?" Steve's brain just went stagnant. What were his parents doing here? How long were they here? The confusion bled back to anger and exhaustion. He pulled away and got up. "Where. The hell have you been for the past three months? Huh?! Have you any idea how sick of this shit I am? Constantly never knowing where my parents are at any point? No note? Nothing? No cards no bullshit souvenirs? Not even a hi honey voicemail!" His parents just looked at him. It wasn't fair. They looked so pristine. Crisp clothes. Make up and hair done. His dad even got his eyebrows waxed. And here Steve was, covered in snot and garbage juice looking exactly how he felt, probably. "Sweetie we have to work. We have to pay bills!" His mom reasoned. "I know it's not fair but we have to be responsible." "Right. Because a kid isn't a responsibility." His parents at least had the decency to look mortified. "That's not what we mean." His father raised his hands to reach for him. "Look come here. Sit down." "Why do you even have this place. Why do you even have me?" Steve's mom sat close and leaned against Steve and his father sat on the other side. "I was your age when I got pregnant. My mother. Well you've met her. She was not happy. Forced me and your father to get married. Well both of our parents did. It was fine we liked each other well enough." Steve was reeling. His parents always preached about being safe and smart. Apparently with good reason. His father cleared his throat. "Well we had to get a job. Your grandfather made it clear that we could not ask him for a penny. Despite that big ol house he's got." Steve snorted. They rarely visited that house, even when his parents were around. It was stupid big too. His parents laughed, relaxing now that Steve was breathing normally. "Getting a job wasn't easy you know. Sometimes we'd come out of work covered in grease and soap and just go to the motel we were staying at exhausted. Took really good care of money to make sure your momma could eat enough and keep me up and moving. Luckily the motel was cheap and clean. We didn't need much. Mostly we were too tired to care." His mother laughed so hard at that. "We didn't even realize the pictures were creepy clowns till we were leaving." "Oh God don't remind me." His father laughed too and dammit Steve couldn't help but join in. This was the longest time he's spent with his parents and they're covered in dirt and sitting in trash. "Anyway. It was getting to the wire. I could barely hold a tray without someone kicking for attention." His mom glared at him playfully. "But it was almost time. And you were ready. And we needed a good job. Quickly. Baby food is expensive. Luckily the mom sharing the hospital room was looking to hire. She owned a hotel. You've met her." Steve vaguely remembered a woman with bigger hair then his, yeah she owned a hotel before she retired. "She offered me a job working for her until she signed the hotel over to me. Your father was great at business with customers and I have always been good with numbers. We got lucky. You have always been a motivation though. You never go to our hotels but we have your art from when you were a kid in every room. Your school's colors are the themes of every lobby. You are our legacy baby." Steve is fully sobbing again. "I didn't. I didn't know. I just wanted to see you." "We let you down. Trying to provide for you we actually well I guess neglected you. We're sorry. We'll fix it." His dad promised.

And to their credit they did. They met all of his friends and made genuine efforts to get to know them. They found out that Wayne was working ridiculous hours and when Steve saw his dad talking to him and shaking hands he just snorted and shook his head. "Hey what's your dad talking to my old man about?" Eddie shoved some animal crackers in his mouth. "Have no idea." Steve passed him a glass of water. "How are you? By the way?" Eddie coughed and waved to the adults talking. "Not sure to be honest. They're trying. Mom was working on some new plans for a hotel but apartments are kind of getting her interest so maybe that'll be her new big plan." Eddie smiled, all dimples. "She's talking to you about that stuff? That's awesome man. I'm. I'm glad." Steve bumped Eddie's shoulder. "You know. If apartments are something she's going for she's probably going to need some help. Maybe you could ask her. Get a place with benefits and retirement funds." Eddie stared at him for a moment. "Wait are you serious? Me? What do I know about apartments dude? I can barely keep my own going." "Well if maintenance isn't something you're ok with then maybe you can work with some of the other hotels!" Steve's mom walked up to Eddie, game face on, all business. "They've got staff that works with kids when parents are on trips and you seem to be good with people over all." Eddie was trying not to wiggle away from this conversation. "I don't do uniforms Mrs. Steve's mom. I have to be able to express myself. Now if you ask me to paint some stuff I'm your guy. I'll babysit some kids, no problem. But I can't do uniforms." Steve's dad held out a hand. "That works we'll see you next week. Say Monday? Wayne's already going to be there at a hotel we're finishing up." "I'm." Eddie hesitated, then reached out to shake his hand.

Steve and Eddie were hanging out in the living room, Robin was on her way. She was still frosty to his parents but they allowed it gratefully. "Look! Robin waved to me on the way out honey!" Steve didn't have the heart to correct them. It was definitely sarcastic.

Eddie was tugging on his shoe laces. "Is it going to be awkward working for them? I mean. Is it going to be weird working for you eventually? Shit I love being artsy and creative. And your parents really are cool." Steve smiled. "But?" "I like you Steve. I really like you. And it'll be awkward having a crush on my boss' son! I don't think they're that cool." Steve stared at Eddie. "You like me?" Eddie let his foot fall. "Only since I first saw you in home ec!" Steve wrinkled his nose, he didn't even know about face cream in junior year. And he definitely wore too much cologne. "Really? That's your type? I don't even look the same." Eddie looked at Steve, really looked at him. Covered in scars and too long hair. "You're my type." Eddie said softly. Firmly. "Steve you're my absolute daydream man." Steve's heart was going to beat out of his chest. "Eddie. Kiss me." "Any chance I get." And he was wrapped up in Eddie's arms, kissing this beautiful man like there was oxygen only in his mouth. Gripping and squeezing each other like their lives depended on it.

"Oh c'mon man. Gross!" Robin interrupted them. They broke away laughing. "Hey birdie." Eddie called and Steve sat up still sitting in his lap. Robin wrinkled her nose but winked. "I could come back later." Steve pretended to think about it before Robin threw a crumpled receipt at him. "I'll be inside. I'll see if you still have that twinkie I hid the last time." "I would join in your twinkie quest but alas." Eddie waved to Steve. "Yeah yeah you already found it." Robin teased and left to go raid the pantry. "Does that mean you'll fill me with cream?" Steve pulled at Eddie's hair. Eddie just looked up at him. "First. How dare you make me think of America's snack in a sexual way I'll never not think of it again." Steve laughed and leaned on Eddie's chest. "Second?" "Second. Yes. And a third and a fourth. Give me a minute I'll even do it again after."

Awkward ending cause I don't know how to end it.

[crack-art-n-stuff]

Another Day~

What are you willing to give to achieve success?

Have you ever wanted something that much? Ever had something you wanted to prove?

It's common sense to give your all if you want it that much. Hard work usually pays off. But most ignore the good luck needed. Fate is unfair. So, luck is needed just as much as hard work.

You had hard work in spades? But luck?

Not so much.

Sometimes, those lows almost make it hard to believe in these moments. Bright pink and red lights swept over the stage. The roaring stadium-filled audience combined with the blaring speakers should've made you deaf quite some time ago. You stayed in the back wings, keeping an eye on your rather troublesome bosses. Watching them basking in the limelight, drinking in that attention and admiration. You could see the euphoria in Nervah's eyes as he winked at a woman in the audience. Haven's finger glided along the guitar strings with seemingly practiced ease. 

Sometimes, it sent a chill up your spine as you saw them differently from others. This attention and energy they drained from others had their focus like sharks when there is blood in the water. What bothered you more was those looks, those glances they gave you. As if they could still see you from the corner of their eyes, even from your farther back spot. There were seduced backstage hands that should've blocked your place.

"Call out my name!"

"Call out my name."

Even when their eyes aren't on you, you feel like their words are trying to burough themselves into your head.

Dammit. 

As much as they irritated you at times, they were real sirens. Able to ensnare others with their words and actions. Even you fell victim to them at first, before you knew better.

By the time the concert ended, you were ready to throw yourself on your plush bed. But your work was far from over. Not when you were contracted to two demons. Locked in their dressing room, they let their tails and miniature forms of their wings out. But kept their human appearances for the most part. Nervah's hair was a bit longer, reaching to his lower back. Haven's hair was in a similar state, though half his face was covered by the hair and the back was in a half up half down style. 

You were forced to lay down on the couch as Nervah squished you in a hug, splaying himself on top of you. Arms wrapped tightly around your torso, you might consider yourself lucky you could even breathe. His heart-tipped tail swayed back and forth behind him, not unsimilar to a dog. His shirt was discarded to free his wings, which were happily flapping without lifting him anywhere.

"How was I, Manager? I was drop-dead gorgeous, wasn't it? You couldn't take your eyes off of me, huh?" He questioned as he nuzzled his face into your chest. 

The younger twin was likely just putting words in your mouth, but she had grown used to it at this point. So, you gave him bland "yeah" and "sure". Not like he was paying attention. Unlike the older twin.

Haven was skimming through cards that came with the gift baskets they paid no mind to earlier. At first, you didn't see anything special or different about the card, even when you noticed the kiss mark on the back along with some numbers. It wasn't the first and likely wouldn't have been the last time.

The older twin let a small flame begin where he held it, before tossing it to the side. The card turned to ash before it touched the ground.

He stepped towards you and his brother, the latter not making any movements other than burying himself firmly in your chest. Bending over, Haven's long chestnut framed his face and yours, as it encompassed yours. Leaning closer, his hair slowly covering the space around the cushion your head laid on. His hand landed near your shoulder to hold himself up. 

"He's right. We did well", he spoke lowly, "So, we deserve rewards, no?"

With that, his lips touched yours. It wasn't heated, just barely there. But there was something clear in it. There was no reason to rush or press farther. They weren't going to let you go anyway. Not like there was a place you could escape to. 

In the kiss, you could feel yourself grow tired, losing energy. Keeping your eyes open was becoming more and more difficult. As he pulled away, you could see his lime-green eyes glow. 

Selfish bastard.

"You should take a nap, y/n. You worked hard, too. Let us handle everything."

Like always.

After you let your eyes close, you felt Haven drag Nervah off of you. The sudden release of pressure was appreciated. After you heard some clothes rustling, you felt yourself being lifted like a princess and the door unlocking. You felt yourself being carried away. You finally succumbed to the dwindling energy and fell asleep, hearing Nervah's excited chatter as your background noise.

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.

Did I turn the incubi models into singers? Yes. Why? Because who doesn’t want a cute demon to serenade them. Also, no one told me not to. :P

So, this one is a little longer than the last one. Not gonna lie, was kinda nervous posting this. But I always appreciate any and all constructive criticism and other forms of feedback.

Now, if you’ll excuse me. Imma yeet myself out a first floor window.

Have a great day!

[tobiasdrake]

Okay, reasonably sure there is no peril here except for the tremendous peril threatening to doom us all. Back to town.

The developers killed all of their Kickstarter subscribers and buried them on an uninhabited island so nobody would ever know. How are things going here? Has anyone built a statue of me yet?

I haven't. Asked anyone to do that. I was just hoping. Of their own volition, maybe....

I also tested the fishing pond. Three different kinds of fish and a shellfish. Most ponds have three types of critter but y'all get four. This place is a paradise.

Oh shit, I forgot to vote for 'Vill-ere' seven hundred times. Dammit, Zale, you were supposed to remind me!

Someone must have stuffed the ballots. What a cheating--

I mean, congratulations, Garl! You deserve it. Hehe heh heh....

No, really, you do. You were organizing the entire town construction while I was off bopping rocks with my staff. I just wanted it because of egotism. Sincerely, this is your moment, man.

I love it! The town of Mirth. The antidote to Woe and Strife. A metaphorical representation of human resilience against the malevolent forces arrayed against life itself.

It's beautiful. Honestly.

Just. Maybe. As the town gets bigger and we start needing to name individual districts, don't forget about me?

We stay any longer and they might elect Garl mayor. They can't have him. He's mine.

I appreciate the tone but if you're here to announce election results, there will be blood. I can be extremely feral when I'm possessive.

Tell him we've gone away to begin our training and won't be able to see him for the next ten goddamned y--

*deep breath* Dweller of Strife. Spite is a luxury that we don't have the budget for right now.

Okay. Calm. Fake smile. Pleasantry.

Thank you, Headmaster. It's so lovely to see you again. I hope you're in good spirits and that this day finds you well.

Oh, you can turn your jolly ass around and leave, then. Bad news is forbidden in Mirth. Or it's going to be as soon as Garl... becomes mayor and....

...shit. Fine. Go on. Ruin my day.

That's it? We knew that a week ago. You've spent a week researching this problem only to reiterate what we already knew?

Uh. Yeah. The three of us are not dozens and dozens of people. Instead of banging your head against that brick wall, maybe you should have been looking for other options. We can't win inside the box so what can we do outside of it?

When you can't untie the knot, you find a knife.

Cool, it's not in the library. Did you try asking the Elder Mist to prophesize something? Talk to the Molekin about the logistics of waking up the Sleeper and Let Them Fighting it with the Dweller? Studied the effects of Roro's soulstones against the Dweller's curses? Just off the top of my head.

Yoyo's out there somewhere. She foresaw Momo's victory against the Dweller of Strife last time. Maybe she can tell us something.

There's plenty of ideas besides reading and rereading the same stuffy tomes from the sky library. I've been out in the world for like two weeks and I already have four. Come on, man.

T_T I'm furious and crying at the same time what the hell

FINE. We don't have the numbers to do this square so I guess we don't need you anyway. T_T Go ahead and abandon me. You're just an old man with no guardrails!

A philosophical surrender to the clash of beliefs with Erlina. I. Have. So many complicated feelings right now.

This is about Momo. I know it's about Momo. I knew it was about Momo from the moment he said it. I realize Moraine is grieving. That he has been grieving, but his ironclad discipline and insistence on upholding duty has prevented him from ever truly processing his feelings. I get that.

But it still hurts that he's springing this on us. I can understand where he's coming from and also feel betrayed about it at the same time.

The ironic thing is, I didn't even want him to come with us. I wanted us to keep doing our thing and trying to solve this problem. But not like this. This hurts.

Y'eet. Ours is Y'eet. That's amazing.

But if you're set on retiring from overwhelming despair and grief that this hellish lifestyle inflicts on everyone who carries it ABANDONING ME then I guess that's my problem to figure out, huh?

T_T

[anotherrosesthatfell]

What kind of love were you expecting ||timeline 79||

(dammit I forgot it again and mixed up the title in the drawing 💀)

"Drop grew up very fast don't you think so, darling?" Merciless said with a smile while he is eating chocolate bars that were given by Drop. "I remember when she was still a baby, she always cry and want to be carry around. It's so cute!"

Merciless always are so fond of children. He just do.

"She's turning 11 soon, what do you think I should gift her this year?" Merciless keep up the conversation knowing Lux doesn't really care but he just like to talk with her.

"You don't need to gift her anything this year." Lux finally replied. Merciless is confused but he keep his smile anyway.

"Oh I see, should I spend time with her for her birthday-"

"No." She said sternly. "We'll be killing her this year so I don't see why you should gift her something in her birthday."

"P-Pardon me?" Merciless stuttered, he is speechless. "That's a funny joke... ..." Merciless forced out a laugh only to see Lux serious face to say it's not a joke. "Why...?" he asked as he try to keep himself calm.

"I figured the longer you stay with them, the more you get attached and seems to forget your responsibility." she frowned, she is jealous but she doesn't actually say it. "I suggest you should kill her before my coronation and her birthday."

Merciless need to say something. But isn't he a dog? If he bite, the owner will put leash on him. He should bite like a dog, he want to bite like a dog like everyone always call him.

"No..." He said it. He dug his own grave. "W-What I mean is, we don't have to kill Drop! That child finally can get out from the house after 10 years. I-I can't just kill her!"

"And how's that my problem?" She glare at her lover. "How dare you talked back to me." Lux grabbed Merciless by his collar. "Don't ever forget that I was the one who saved you, you belong to me." Merciless belong to her, as if he is her property.

"Darling- of course I belong to you. I love you..." he said. "but Drop, she isn't bad or anything. We don't have to kill her, we can bring her when we destroy this multiverse—"

*SLAP*

Merciless cheek is swollen red. Seems like he pissed his owner off. Lux pushed Merciless on the ground the moment she let go of his collar.

"Oh dear, that hurts you, right?" Lux form a smile. "seem like I was being too harsh on you." even if she is smiling, her actions say otherwise. Lux forcefully grabbed Merciless by his hair and bend down. "What kind of love were you expecting from me, from Drop and from everyone, my dear?"

"I..." Merciless didn't say anything. He should apologize to her like he always did.

"Exactly." she chuckled. "You're nothing but my dog. Your love for everyone is like a dog loving humans, isn't that adorable?" she smile as she let go of Merciless hair and started to caressing his cheeks. "I'll forgive you after you succeeded on killing Drop." Lux then kiss him on the cheek. "Let's get yourself some treatment, okay? After all, you don't want to ruin my perfect reputation."

Lux make Merciless stand up. She glance at her lover before taking him to Hope.

"Awe why are you crying?" she smile and patted Merciless head. "There, there. You know I hate crybaby."

"I'm sorry." he apologized and wipe his tears. It's disgusting. He knows that yet he still shedding tears. "I'm sorry, Lux." no more nickname to give her until he is forgiven.

He doesn't understand why he still love her but he did. He is in love with the one who hurts him, he is in love with an abusive relationship, he is in love everything that hurts him because he deserves it. He deserves it. He deserves everything he received.

.

[eternadreeblissa]

Hello dear! I hope you've been quite well!

<3<3<3

I'm currently not — sweet Ava's prologue left me heartbroken, and I want to commit crimes against many. The whole piece was beautifully written, and I do enjoy myself some tragedy; the angst is quite the spice I need.

The unfairness of the situation was both angering and haunting; everyone was just cheering for the demise of a young girl as she herself was questioning what she did to deserve such hatred.

The way she attempted to comfort herself in a bleak situation and even tried to find some semblance of joy —

“…she will no longer feel the aches of her weakened, fragile body, and she will no longer see faces that will always sneer and mock her for every move she makes…”

I am not okay right now. :(

“All of it will be over soon, and perhaps, with her death, the people shall also have peace moving onwards as well.”

I AM NOT AT PEACE DAMMIT — I REFUSE TO MOVE ON!! >:(

KAYSVEUFNRUGJYIH

Oh Loafie, this is just the beginning :'))) but hELLO MY DEARRR

It has been AGES since ive last seen you ive missed you sm 🥹 thank you for coming by again! No need to worry however, there's more where all that angst is coming from :DDD

Ive been very quiet and working hard on my story in the background! I can only feed some bits like my art while all of you wait and have little peaks of what's to come from me. I hope you all stay tuned, it will be a ride <333

Ive been well in the realms of creativity, tq for your concern btw. Muah muahs!