#she deserved to stay longer dammit!!!

[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.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: How you hurt the M6

~ I want to be clear again that when hurt people hurt other people, it's not a sign of closeness, it's proof of a need for growth. Healthy relationships will take those signs seriously instead of brushing them off - brainrot ~

This is the sequel to

How the M6 hurt you

TW for angst, yelling, accidental food shaming, saying things you don't mean, and watching your loved one be deeply hurt by what you said or did

Julian

You don't know when last you were this emotionally exhausted. It feels like all week has been nothing but listening to other people unload their burdens while you barely have a moment to yourself

It also hasn't helped that Julian's picked up one of the viruses going around and has been bedridden for the last three days

At least, he should be staying in bed. But he keeps getting up because he doesn't like giving you extra things to worry about, only to make things worse by overexerting himself and defeating his own cause

At this point you've had it up to the nose with other people's problems. Do you like helping? Yes! Do you like helping as much when people don't even stop to ask how you've been or if you have time? No! And especially not when you're starting to catch Julian's sniffles too

Against all the odds, you've managed to finish everything early and you're just getting ready to go to bed and get some much-needed rest and alone time when Julian appears in the doorway

Just the sight of him not in bed where he should be adds to your frustration, but you take a breath and meet his sorrowful gaze

"Why are you up, Julian? Are you alright?"

And he, not noticing the bags under your eyes or the vein popping in your forehead, begins his lament

How sorry he is for burdening you like this, how terrible it is of him to expose you to sickness like this, how you don't deserve to live like this, all while he remains the only thing literally standing between you and the sweet, sweet rest of your shared bed

You nod sympathetically and begin to step around him, hoping he'll follow you back to bed to sleep, but then he's placing both hands on your shoulders to hold your attention as he tells you why you shouldn't have to waste said attention on him. It's the last thing you need to snap

"Dammit, Julian, I'm already worn down because of you! If you wanted me to be happy you'd leave me alone already!"

You're regretting your words as they're leaving your mouth, but you don't realize the broader implications of what you've said until you see the look of horror and hurt on his face

"I-I'm so sorry, Julian, I didn't mean it like that, I meant -"

"I understand what you meant." He's shrinking away from you, fever-chapped lips trembling as he goes to the door to put on his coat. "I'll leave you alone so you can be happy."

You're left standing in an empty house, struggling to keep your mind awake enough to figure out what to do next. It takes longer than you would like for you to snap out of it and rush out the door after him, wondering where he would go in the early night

He's not at the Docks. He's not at the Rowdy Raven. At this point you're too panicked to keep thinking so you run over to Mazelinka's, hoping for direction and advice. She doesn't look very impressed to see you when she opens the door

"Before I let you in. Tell me what you did to that boy to make him knock at my door instead of sneaking in through my window."

And with tears on your face and panicked, shaky breaths, you tell her what you said and how it happened and how you don't need to know where he is right now, just make sure he's alright, please

When you finally stop talking she turns away from the door and address the trapdoor in the floor that's ever so slightly cracked open. "Well? Are you coming out now or are you sleeping down there?"

Julian slowly emerges, puffy-eyed and shaky, and meets you at the door with a quiet "Let's go home." You nod and get ready to follow him down the sidewalk when a wooden spoon appears across your chest. You look over into Mazelinka's steely gaze, reminded all at once that her grip is that of a pirate more than a cook

"You hurt him like this again," she murmurs, "and the Devil gets a kinder fate."

Julian is quick to forgive, but it takes much longer to silence the angry words you sent ringing into his head

Asra

Living without any memories from before three years ago is hard

It's like joining a class with only six weeks left in the school year. Everyone around you has history - either with each other, or from somewhere else that they get to share over a dinner table and find ways to bond over it. But you've got nothing

It doesn't help that everyone around you knows more about your past than you do. They remember how you ran your shop before the plague, they remember the catchphrases and jokes you'd use to chat with customers, they remember more of you than you do

And nobody wants to tell you

You know that you have friends. There's Selasi, the baker, Nadia and Julian and Portia, Asra's parents Aisha and Salim, and even Muriel seems to be warming up to you begrudgingly

But the silence in your neighborhood is loud when you walk through it, even if it's become fond after your efforts to stop the Devil. You're tired of the quiet - you want to hear someone talk to you with answers and stories already!

You've been stewing on these thoughts for several hours now, starting from a particularly silent customer and continuing through shop closing and clean up. Asra walks in the back door in time to see you grumble and give the counter a particularly harsh wipe

"Did the counter do something to offend you, my love?"

You huff and shake your head, trying to distract yourself with something less irritating. You watch them set their bag down in the corner, full of mysterious parcels. "How was your day?"

"Better now that I'm with you." He's peering at you fondly from under his eyelids, and you ignore the flare of frustration at the typically vague response that doesn't answer your question

"I see you did some shopping, where did you go?" Give me something, you think, give me anything that's present and real to think about

They falter slightly, the way they do whenever they're about to reference a place or person or thing you used to know, and then smoothly sidle up to you. "Oh, you know. Here and there."

You flinch away when he reaches for you, your frustration crashing across your brain as a wave of anger. "Here and there? Just like all of the other places you've been? All the places I don't know about because nobody will tell me?"

You see the hurt pooling in their face, and knowing that half of it is their empathy for your own pain somehow makes it worse. Especially when their only response is silence. Damn the silence

"Why does nobody tell me anything? Why don't you tell me anything? You brought me back all on your own, why don't you try addressing the problem for once? Or are you just going to leave me alone, without anything to help me, again?"

You're stunned by the words coming out of your mouth. You knew that what you were saying wasn't true, you knew that every word would wound him, and somehow you couldn't stop until that accusatory again merited its own silence

You can see them bracing against their need to turn and walk out, and you're hoping for their sake they do, but instead they're dragging their feet one step closer, eyes on the floor

"I'm not going to leave you alone again," he mumbles, voice cracking, "Not unless you want me to." And five seconds later he's putting his arms around you, ignoring his own hurt to take care of you - again, even though you can feel him shaking from your anger

"I'm sorry," you tell them, "I'm sorry, I was wrong. That's not true. I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm so sorry -"

"It's okay," he's telling you, even though he's not. "It's okay for you to be angry at me. You didn't ask for any of this, and I failed you."

No! you're screaming in your mind, it's not ok! because you can feel the pain twisting under their ribs at your stinging accusations and you know they're doing everything they can to hide that from you

Asra's love for you is steadfast, but he doesn't trust lightly and it'll be several weeks before he's able to tell you how badly you hurt him

Nadia

You know that you're not stupid. And you know that, technically, nobody else really thinks you're stupid. You know for certain that Nadia would tell you all about your attractive intelligence given the chance and the hours on end that she would require

You know all of this, and yet

Sometimes Nadia's desire to provide for your every need translates into keeping track of every project you're working on and every problem requiring a magician that you're in charge of fixing

And her way of helping is offering her thoughts and opinions and advice. Which, granted, is always helpful when you ask for it. But most of the tips you've been getting recently are unsolicited

Half the time her advice is to do the thing that you were already planning on doing, which after a while is enough reason to not want to do it anymore

But you keep biting your tongue and nodding along, because you love her and the last thing you want to do is talk to her like you think she doesn't have anything helpful to offer

It's mid morning and the work day is in full swing. Nadia's touring around the palace and grounds today, overseeing basic building maintenance, and you're hunched over the intricate blueprints for the Flooded District, figuring out where magical aid is needed

You're just circling a ramshackle bridge which would make the ideal spot to control water flow from when two silky arms wrap around your torso from behind and you're surrounded by her floral perfume. "And how is my darling magician this morning?"

You're getting ready to respond when you feel her shift and focus on the papers in front of you. Don't do it, you think in annoyance as she leans away in order to get a better look, Don't say that -

"That bridge would be a good location to direct water flow from. You should consider utilizing it in your plans, MC."

You rein in your annoyance and nod. "That's why I have it circled."

"Oh!" She laughingly traces your pencil marks. "So you do." She turns to you, smug approval radiating from her cocked brow. "I hadn't noticed. My magician is even sharper than normal today."

The irritation flares up even stronger than before. Maybe if you stopped butting in you'd realize I'm always this competent, you think, but you bite it back at the last minute

She's turning back to keep studying your materials, her angle effectively blocking you from being able to see what she's looking at, and you're trying not to say anything, you really are, but then she's straightening up and asking "Have you thought of -"

"Yes," you interrupt her, frustration bleeding into your tone, "yes, I have." The reprimanding look she gives you only makes it worse. "Or at least, I'd have the chance to think of it if I wasn't being constantly hijacked."

Nadia frowns and raises her chin. "You've implemented every piece of advice I've given you. I fail to see how that counts as hijacking."

"It's not advice if I'm already planning on doing it!" You're blurting out all the things you haven't said now, louder and angrier than you would ever intend to. "You haven't even asked if I wanted your help, you just keep assuming you know better! I don't want your help!"

Her face drops all expression and her eyes grow cold. "I see," she says quietly, and then "I'll take my leave, then."

It's not until she doesn't join you for lunch that you begin to realize how badly you messed up. After all the hurt she harbored from her older siblings treating her like she couldn't do anything, your own words were the confirmation of her worst doubts

You don't want to force her to listen to you, but you know the longer you leave things the more she'll internalize what you've said. You spend your afternoon writing your detailed apology instead of working on your plans, and give it to Chandra that evening

Nadia joins you on the terrace after dinner, her presence alone bearing the promise of her forgiveness. The hurt you've caused, however, is going to take much longer to heal

Muriel

You've been unusually hungry recently. Days in the woods are already cooler and damper than they are in the crowded Vesuvian streets, and now with winter coming on your body has been begging you for the calories it needs to stay warm

There are multiple things you've failed to account for as the one who usually does the grocery shopping. First, your own increase in appetite, second, Muriel's increase in appetite, and third, the cold front that had appeared out of nowhere five days ago

Muriel himself has expressed surprise at how much he's been eating recently, but you can see it as the outcome of him learning not to deprive himself of good things in order to not take up space

You've spent all morning busy in the woods while Muriel does his rounds, and your stomach started rumbling an hour ago. It doesn't help that your clothes are too thin for the weather - that's another item on tomorrow's shopping list

The trees are rushing by as you hustle back. You've been saving a stewed meat pie in the back of the cupboard for a hangry day, and with the way you're getting annoyed at every root that trips you up today is the day to toast it up and eat it

Inanna's alone in the hut when you walk in, so you begin chattering to her mindlessly as you head to the cupboards to pull out your lunch. Your mutters get more and more frustrated as you open cupboard after cupboard, letting the doors bang shut

"I swear Inanna, I'm so hungry right now it's starting to hurt. Where in all the realms did I leave that damned -"

And you look over at the table to see an empty plate, speckled with familiar pastry crumbs. You laugh humorlessly, speaking completely unfiltered to the wolf on the bed

"Of course, Muriel ate it!" You're not mad at him, you're glad if anything that he felt free to eat what you bought, but you're ticked at having to wait another hour to forage and cook something.

"Why even bother buying something for later if it won't even be there? I get that he's a big guy, but does he really need to eat so much? I'm going to starve if this keeps up!"

You're almost shouting at this point, finding a strange joy in your exaggerated performance, until a whine from Inanna's direction causes you to pause. It's that second of silence that lets you hear the shuffle of a large pair of feet not knowing where to walk to next

You spin around, horrified, in time to see Muriel's shoulders hunching down and turning away from the open door. You're scrabbling to catch up to him in the clearing and manage to grab his sleeve

"Muriel, I'm so sorry, I -" How do you begin to explain this? Even worse is the way he refuses to look at you, head tilted down and away in an expression of shame, guilt, and regret. You take a breath and start with what you want him to know most

"I don't think you're too big. And I don't think you eat too much, and I'm not mad, I promise, I love you much more than pie."

His mouth twitches and he turns his face to look at you, which you take as permission to continue your confused explanation: "I was - I was just ... joking?"

His face falls into a scowl before you can blink, and he yanks his sleeve from your hand. "Don't lie to me," he grits out.

"I'm not lying! I wasn't even that hungry, I was just frustrated, and -" you're cut off by your stomach making a loud growl. Muriel's face twists in something akin to pain and he stalks off, head and shoulders hunched down as tight as the day you met him

You know you don't have a chance of catching up to him on an empty stomach, so you watch hopefully as Inanna melts into the trees after him and turn to the nearby woods to forage

The afternoon passes slowly. You have nothing to do but wait for him to return - if he returns at all, and the hut is cold and dark without him

You're able to greet him with a better apology and the biggest, heartiest hot meal you could make in one afternoon, but it's a long time before you see him eat without hesitation again

Portia

You love Portia's optimism. It's easily the steadiest, most uplifting thing in your life and she can turn any daunting or overwhelming situation into the start of a grand and exciting adventure

It doesn't matter what you're facing down, she's right next to you, rolling up her sleeves with a can-do attitude and plowing ahead

Some things, though, have a degree of complexity that require more than a can-do attitude and a determination to move forward no matter the obstacle. Some things are complicated, tedious, painstaking, and drawn out so long you forget why you're doing it

The puzzle you're working away at is one of those things. Since you've started traveling the world with Portia, you've encountered all kinds of magic that you'd never heard of before, and it's given you a hope that she's pushed you to pursue

You're trying to get your memories back

And it's exhausting. It's been month after month of researching and documenting, staying up late into the night brainstorming with new leads until your creativity feels strained enough to be as sore as a pulled muscle, all for tiny pieces of the solution

Portia's been your star, staying awake with you and doing her best to follow along on a subject she's never been taught, always giving you a pep talk to push just a bit farther

But that push is starting to feel like pressure. After months of keeping at it, all you want is either a breakthrough or a break

Portia walks in on your little meltdown, in time to see you lean back in your chair, sigh, and then groan as you begin to pack away your notes and samples and books

"Uh-uh!" She's tugging on your elbow cheerfully, nudging you to sit back down. "Come on, MC, I know you can do this! We just need -"

"To push a little harder?" You finish her sentence for her, letting out a tired laugh and rubbing at the ache behind your eyes. "I don't think so. Not today, at least."

"What?" she asks teasingly, "are you just giving up? Don't tell me I need to give you a good kick in the ass like my brother."

You feel your eyebrows scrunch together, plagued by both your discouragement with your project and the feeling of failing to be the exciting, brilliant magician Portia has so much faith in

"I can't do this anymore, Portia. The answer's been at the edge of my brain for weeks, and I still can't find it. I need a break."

"No, you don't!" There's so much hope and excitement in her voice it makes you feel sick. She grabs your shoulders and leans in so close you can see the spark dancing in her eyes. "You just told me it's right there, so reach for it! Maybe you have everything already, maybe you just need to make yourself remember!"

"No!" The overwhelming hopelessness and shame claw their way out of your throat as aggression. "No, it won't work. Do you even know what that does to me? Do you have missing memories?"

She falters, smile fading. "No, but ... no, I don't."

"Then how could you understand?" You see her frown as you start to gesture wildly at the months of research. "You don't even understand most of this, much less what I'm dealing with! I'm sorry I can't live up to your expectations, but I can't just fix this!"

She's scowling now, chin wobbly, but her stubbornness wins out. "I don't expect you to be perfect, MC, but I'm not letting you give up. I know us. When you're with me, I can do anything, and I know you feel the same way about me too."

"Not about this." You slump in your seat, staring listlessly at your mess. "I know what I'm dealing with, I know what I'm doing, and I know I'm not enough." You see her getting ready to start studying your notes and try to make sense of them for the hundredth time, and lay a hand on her wrist. "And you aren't enough either."

She freezes, yanks her hand away, and storms out the door with a broken sob. It's not until you see her reaction that you realize the extent of what you've said to her and seek her out to apologize

She's quick to forgive you when you admit you were wrong, but it's a long time before she joins you at your research again

Lucio

It's been exciting to watch him grow and change. You know that every time he shows a little more patience or acknowledges a mistake, it's a hard-earned victory. Changing yourself requires effort, and you've watched him put in the blood, sweat and tears

It's especially beautiful to see the way he connects to other people now - before, his desire for friendship led him to bribe masses of people to his side. Now, all he has to do is find a common interest and everyone at the tavern table is drawn to his enthusiasm

On a night like this, though, it's harder to hold onto your admiration of him. The two of you encountered a group of young mercenaries on the road, and what started as advice from someone older and wiser became a swap of war stories

He's yelling excitedly about the adrenaline rush of sending his blade through an enemy's ribs, instructing the younger mercenaries on how to aim for the heart, and you feel your own sink

His smile looks crueler in the flickering candlelight, his laugh harsh and grating as one of his new friends shares their own gruesome torture suggestions, and you soon give into the compulsion to stand and make your excuses to retire early

It's hard to look at his face when his eyes show concern for your quietness, and you miss the way his gaze follows you out the door

You lie in bed, tuning out the raucous laughter from the tavern, and try to sleep. You're spiraling into the past, all of the evidence of his cruelty and selfishness overshadowing the man you've shared your life with for the last several years

Long before the Lazaret became a funeral pyre, he was just like the brutes fawning over him now, delighting in battle and bargaining away the living hearts of others for his own gain

You flinch when you hear him bang open the door to the room you've rented for the night, matching the motions of the Count of Vesuvia to the sounds of him removing his armored gauntlet and preparing for bed

"Did you hear those kids?" His voice breaks the stillness when he notices your open eyes. "Little idiots, just 'cause they got some blood on their knives, they think they're the best of the trade. Don't worry baby, I showed them."

He bends to kiss your cheek as he climbs into bed next to you, and you turn to face his shadow in the dark. "Show them what? How to kill more effectively?"

"Yes?" His voice comes floating back confused. "I did? Gotta aim for the heart if you want a clean kill."

"A clean kill?" You can hear the disgust bleeding into your voice, but you can't stop. "What else did you tell them about?"

"Oh, you know, just the deals I made, and the plague, and the masquerade." He sighs wistfully. "I thought they should know what they were really aiming for."

You snap and sit up in bed, taking the covers with you. "I can't believe you! You - why? Why would you lead even more people to their deaths? Do you even care at all about what happened to Vesuvia? To me?" You ignore the sounds of him shuffling frantically around, crossing your arms over your chest. "You really haven't changed at all, have you?"

Click

The sudden flare of the lamp by your bed shows Lucio's expression, one arm reached out to give him light to see you properly, his face a frozen mask of fear at your icy disapproval

"MC - I didn't - I thought if I told them about my oopsies they would know better." You see him swallow and fight back the tears at the corners of his eyes, brows furrowed in concern. His voice is small and hurt. "You really think I haven't changed at all?"

You can see his doubt, his hope in your faith in him being hurled back in his face, and you rush to apologize

He forgives you once he sees your regret and hears you admitting your mistake, but he doesn't bring his past up again so easily

[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.

[atopvisenyashill]

🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️🇵🇷🐢🏝️ i got tired of complaining constantly on my main blog (@thewingedwolf is me!) about how sansa and rhaenyra did nothing wrong and also i needed a way to organize my theories and stuff. yes i have read all the books. yes i have (unfortunately) seen the whole show. yes i have seen all of hotd as well. so here we go. my stances are this, so you have an idea what to expect:

i am a catelyn, sansa, brienne, elia, lyanna and rhaenyra stan FIRST and a person SECOND

i would die for Gaemon Palehair, Lady Essie, and Sylvenna Sand, those are my canon OCs, and that’s why they’re my header.

maegor rhaena and aerea also could have saved westeros & jaehaerys should have been aborted in the womb.

Sansa and Bran are my favorites! I am a Sansa will be Queen in the North truther and a Bran will be the King in Harrenhal conspiracy theorist, It Is Heavily Foreshadowed In The Text and I stand on that!!

I'm well aware Rhaenyra has plenty of faults, I am saying that the greens (as in, the characters) do not like her because of her gender, and not for stuff she does that’s actually wrong, also, idc that she did all of that i simply think she’s fun.

Helaena really IS the one who did nothing wrong tho.

i am a Dark Daenerys believer. no, i don’t hate her - in fact, i really love her, although i do hate her show counterpart - I just think her arc is heading towards a dark path and being a villain protagonist is the more interesting route for her character.

House Martell will rise or I will piss in old man germ’s cornflakes.

I Will talk about the racism Dorne faces in the text and outside of it and neither your favorite house nor my favorite house is exempt from this. If you have a problem with that, keep it to yourself bc i do not care 🙏🏽

i multiship!! just bc i ship it doesn’t mean i think it’s gonna happen in the series, i just like the dynamic!!

i am in fact the annoying book jonsa truther they warned you about. i will Stay bitter about this. argue with the wall.

with that said, i also like theonsa, throbb, daemyra, laenyra, rhaewin, nedcat, braime, briensa, and a million other ones. faves listed here. several of them are dead dove-esque; what can i say, that's just george's style.

you decide whether it’s romantic or platonic when it’s an incest one, my opinion changes by the hour & im gonna fight grrm for making me think this much about incest.

i don’t like jonerys!!!!!! i'm sansan & sanrion ambivalent and i simply do not care about littlefucker like that. i would say i’ve thought positively about basically every other ship.

I JUST FINISHED A REREAD and i Have started a rewatch of the tv series as a form of torture.

i first read this series when i was 16 in like 2012-2013. i love to bitch about the takes i’ve seen. i sometimes reblog really old ass graphics bc they deserve new life even tho the creators are long since deactivated. i sometimes make graphics that look like they’re from 2014 bc we should bring that style back dammit i hate the typography movement going on rn.

big on tagging triggers so lmk (i’ll tag for all characters & major triggers but i’m fine with adding a specific one if asked and don't worry about it being a "weird" trigger - if sean bean's face or knives or wolves or whatever trigger you, i'm happy to tag for that!). my spoiler policy is that i’ll tag everything from this season as “hotd spoilers” and any of the Big Events with “episode title spoilers” but i can’t guarantee I can be consistent longer than like 2 days though i will try!! i Will be talking about any book canon events tho, the books have been out for years either you know how to avoid them or you know everything, i’m not tagging that.

i have a tag page that is more organized than the slapdash nonsense on this post, feel free to check it out here.

i may sound angry but i promise i am genuinely just here for a laugh. i just have resting bitch voice and no feel for tone and use the word fuck too much. it’s fine and unserious.

[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.

.

.

.

.

.

.

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!

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Tell me a story about Admiral Craymen meeting Squall Leonhart.

"Heya there, Eponin! What a crazy world it is!"

The room falls silent. Then, "Oh, it's just you."

Aimee kicks the back of her seat and scoots a few inches closer to the Admiral. His arm stays resolutely at his side.

"What's your name, kid?"

Aimee's hand instinctively reaches up to scratch at her jaw again. "Aimee Powell."

"We're a lot alike, it turns out. What were you, in the old days?"

"Fuck off."

The Admiral pauses for a moment. "You're a girl. What are you doing here?"

"Our parents are dead. I'm, uh, looking for a job."

"A job. You think you can get one here. In this ruined pile of what was once a palace?"

"Look, you're the boss. Find me one."

It's amazing, Aimee thinks, how perceptive he manages to be despite being a smelly old drunk. Guess it's what you'd have to be, to live this long.

"I used to be a mercenary. Like . . . it's okay, it was a long time ago. But I had a ship. And we had a lot of work. We were everywhere. Everyone needed us, back then. We fought for rich people who were too chicken shit to fight on their own. We fought for governments that couldn't win their own wars. You name it, we were there. It was a wild life."

"Yeah, well, good luck getting a job in that business."

"Fuck, you're right. Dammit. It was a good life, though. Adventure, excitement, gratitude from people who needed help . . . it was a good life."

"I bet you were pretty damn smart in your day."

The Admiral laughs. "You bet I was. I did pretty good in my day."

"And you ended up in this . . . dump. You think you were so good in your day? Why did you end up in a dump?"

"I kept . . . losing. I kept losing. I lost people I loved. Some of them were my fault, some weren't. I lost friends. I lost my ship. I lost. The hell of it was, I didn't know I was losing. Nobody told me. One day, I woke up, and I was no longer in the top rank. I got dumped in a crappy little patrol ship and sent to some unpronounceable shithole in the middle of space, and that was the end of it. I should have retired. But I couldn't. I couldn't stop. So I kept going, and losing. And I ended up here."

Aimee doesn't say anything.

"I used to be in your position," the Admiral says. "Back in the day. Young, dumb, reckless, thinking you could get away with it. So why do you deserve to get away with it? Why do you deserve a job?"

Aimee doesn't have an answer. She shrugs.

"I don't know. You tell me. You're the one who seems to think so."

The Admiral shakes his head. "I still think I'd never make a good soldier. Maybe you're the real deal."

"My name is Aimee Powell. Now will you give me a job, or not?"

They look at each other, and something passes between them. "Maybe," the Admiral says.

What the hell, Aimee thinks, you've got to take what you can get in this damn world. She asks, "What is it?"

"I need someone to do one thing for me. Find something. And then return it to me. There's an object in a certain place on this station. Go to that place and find that object. Take it and bring it back to me."

"Okay. Who owns it? Why don't you go get it, yourself?"

"This station is huge. The space is segmented into different little zones, and the zones are owned by different people. You need a pass to get between the zones. Some of the zones don't even have a pass entrance. And I don't have a pass."

"So you're gonna pay me to go get your shit for you?"

"I am a military man. I know that's what I should do. But I am weak, and I cannot do it. Do you have what it takes?"

"I . . . have what it takes to get your damn thing. I'm not sure I have what it takes to get back afterward."

The Admiral smiles. "The universe is a fair, if harsh, judge."

"How're you gonna pay me?"

"I have a stash of money and jewels back in my quarters. You can take them now, if you like."

Aimee laughs. "There's no way you can still have jewels in this shit."

"There are jewels in this shit. Diamonds, even. They don't make 'em like they used to. Come with me, Aimee Powell."

Aimee does not move.

"Go on. Don't want to admit you don't have what it takes?"

She's not going to admit that. She's going to pick up this job and get the hell out, and see if she can make it on her own.

"You ready, kid?"

"When I'm ready. Not before."

The Admiral stands up and straightens. "Then I shall return shortly, and be ready to begin our adventure."