#sign that was ignored by my family when we came here and probably ignored by everyone who lives here too lol

[thedas-signs-n-symbols]

March 15, 2024

[ham1lton]

summer came like cinnamon (so sweet)

pairing(s): logan sargeant x reader. oscar piastri x reader.

warnings: mentions of mental health, dieting, fractured friendships and constant mention of jim’s ice cream parlour. also different povs, it goes through the minds of all three of the main characters.

summary: after their rookie season, in a bid to repair their friendship, the two drivers decide to take their new paycheques and go explore the sun, sea and sands of greece. what they didn’t anticipate was to bump into you.

wordcount: 5.6k

author’s note: this is my first semi-interactive fic, please give it some love <3 any major issues in travelling and stuff like in terms of logistics? please ignore. also let me know who you’re planning on choosing. team oscar or team logan?

— wanna be updated on the next parts? join my taglist! —

— part one of the summer lovin’ series. —

[ i ain’t a kid no more / we’ll never be those kids again ]

logan didn’t know why he was so overwhelmed with anxiety, when he knocked on oscar’s door on that rainy thursday night.

this was his oscar, the oscar that had practically grown up with him. the one who knew how he liked his toast and that he was fond of a burger with all the extras. that he had a scar on his left ankle from when he was a kid and wrestled with his brother after watching too much wwe.

ever since he had signed to williams and oscar had been a mclaren driver, they had hardly talked in comparison to their pre-formula one days. when he had crashed out during a race, he half expected oscar to text him or come knocking on his hotel door.

he didn’t. logan pretended he wasn’t surprised.

fuck it. bite the bullet. he lifted his hand high and knocked on the door. three quick taps in succession.

“one moment!” oscar called from inside. logan would wait, even if that old lady from room 135 kept looking at him like he was an intruder. maybe he was. he hadn’t been in oscar’s room for a while.

oscar opened the door with messy hair and a shirt that had been clearly shoved on before he opened the door.

“logan? hi.” oscar swallowed. the awkwardness in the space between the two of them felt heavy. “you okay mate?”

“yeah! yeah.” logan fake laughed, rubbing his sweaty palms against his jeans. “just wanted to come see you.”

“i’m here.” oscar grinned, with no teeth, at his own joke. “wanna come in?”

“sure. kinda awkward talking in the hallway anyways. that old lady is about five minutes from calling the cops on me.”

“oh that’s just brenda.” oscar said after leaning out and getting a glance at the woman, who waved at him. he waved back. “she’s harmless.”

logan followed oscar into his room. it was bigger than his and he didn’t know if feeling jealous was appropriate. he had felt many emotions when it came to oscar; happy, sad, angry, and others. he didn’t want jealousy to join the list.

“sorry, my room is a mess. i wasn’t expecting company.” oscar laughed with no heart behind it as he sat down on his unmade bed. “take a seat logan, you’re giving me anxiety just standing around.”

logan immediately sits down on the desk chair.

“so, what are your plans for the summer?”

“mine?” oscar thinks to himself. “probably just to go see my family and my friends back home.”

“i was thinking maybe we could, i don’t know.” logan bites his lip anxiously. “do something together?”

“like what?” oscar is curious now, his eyes focused.

“maybe go on that european holiday we always talked about? we have the money now and no parents to tell us no like last time.” logan speaks in a rush. “but obviously if you say no, dude that’s totally fine.”

logan looks at oscar, who’s actually considering it? he thinks to himself for a moment before turning to logan.

“how many days?”

“as long as you’d like.”

“where would we go?”

“anywhere you’d want.”

“make a decision, logan. i’ll say yes or no.”

“we always wanted to go to greece? how about there? maybe for three weeks?”

“we should go for a month. we can travel.”

wait. so that means? oscar’s face is still impassive. he doesn’t say yes or no, but he is still considering it. that’s a positive.

“that’s fine. i’m flexible.”

“i’ll plan it.” oscar nods.

“so is that a yes?”

“obviously.” oscar finally smiles, open and dazzling. logan grins too, allowing himself to bask in the approval. he was almost 67% sure that oscar would say no. he’d already done the maths, but it wasn’t his strongest subject anyways.

“i’ll text you the details.” oscar nods and logan gets up, running a hand through his hair. giddy with happiness that he’ll finally win his best friend back. this’ll be the trip that heals them. that heals him.

-❀-

oscar gets stressed when he’s not in charge. everything has to go through him. the plans, the schedule and especially the driving. he’s never liked being in the passenger seat. his hands get fidgety and he doesn’t know how to calm them down.

he’s lucky that logan is all too happy to sit in it, his eyes focused on making the perfect road trip playlist. for some reason, they’d decided to drive from london all the way down to munich.

they’d already driven down from london and through the eurotunnel and took a break sightseeing in france - which oscar had already scheduled for. they ate their weight in croissants. they ate steak and frites. logan had bought them matching ‘i ♥︎ paris’ t-shirts and oscar rolled his eyes but packed it neatly in his suitcase anyways.

they hadn’t talked about anything other than surface level topics. logan talking about his favourite sports teams, them both discussing the grid and plans for the upcoming season and the usual small talk about their family’s wellbeings.

they didn’t talk about how they ignored each other unless a camera necessitated a conversation. they didn’t talk about logan’s bad season. they stayed up till stupid hours watching badly dubbed french movies and ordering takeout.

they drove to germany, dropped off their rental car and then got a plane from munich to athens. it wasn’t very long at all but logan still curled up against the window and tried to sleep. they were both connected to the spotify account on logan’s phone - logan using his headphones and oscar with his airpods. their road trip playlist still playing.

oscar didn’t know why he didn’t take them out, even when the playlist inevitably repeated itself.

-❀-

they’d been in athens all of two days when they met you. logan had gone an insanely bright red when he’d forgotten his sunscreen had ran out. oscar laughed at first but then ran to the nearest pharmacy to grab emergency sunscreen and aloe vera for the both of them.

after slathering themselves, they’d decided to seek refuge in a small ice cream store. despite the hot weather, the store was almost completely empty besides the two of them and you. you were fiddling with your phone in the corner as you attempted to hook it up to the speakers.

“fuck’s sake!” you shout quietly, frustratingly trying to make it work. “i can’t do this shift without any music. my thoughts’ll drive me insane.”

“um?” oscar breaks the awkward silence. you jump and turn around. the first thing that they both notice is that you’re pretty. really pretty. even in the unflattering oversized neon green work t-shirt.

“sorry! sorry! i apologise. i didn’t think anyone was in the shop. please forgive me.” you look flustered as you move to quickly wash your hands and dry them. “what would you both like today?”

to be honest, logan hadn’t been thinking about the ice cream. oscar didn’t need to think, he was going to get his usual order.

“can i get two scoops of mint chocolate chip?”

“oh that’s disgusting. i forgot that you eat that.” logan shakes his head in shock.

“it’s good. you’re just a hater.” oscar rolls his eyes. “stick to your boring vanilla.”

“it’s a classic!” logan turns to you and asks for two scoops of vanilla and one scoop of mango. you smile and begin to start their orders.

“you guys aren’t from around here, are you?” you ask.

“nah. the accents give it away?” logan laughs as he slings an arm around oscar’s shoulder. oscar rolls his eyes again but makes no move to push him away.

“yeah. a little bit.” you pinch your fingers together as you say it. “i’m not really from here either.”

“no?” oscar replies this time, curious.

“international student. this was one of the few places that’d hire me with my insane schedule. i’m lucky i have the next month off, thankfully.”

“aren’t you going back home?”

“i could if i wasn’t scheduled to work here practically every day for the next month.” you finish logan’s order and move on to oscar’s. you shrug. “and i need the money. the job could be worse really, i just wish the speaker fucking worked and the air conditioning. luckily i stand close to the ice cream.”

“what do you study?”

“archaeology.”

“best place for that is probably here.”

“yes. i don’t know why but ever since i was a little girl i knew i wanted to come to greece and study here. this is the less glamorous side of it but i’m here doing what i love.”

“that’s all that matters right?” logan chimes in. you nod as you scan their orders into your till.

“that’ll be €7.62.” you say. “cash or card?”

“cash.” oscar says as he pulls out his wallet. he’s infinitely glad he’d prepared and went to the cash exchange in london before he’d left. logan doesn’t even bother to offer, he picks up his ice cream and starts to eat it.

oscar hands you the cash as logan moves to a booth right by the open door to take advantage of the breeze. you count back the change and place it right in his hand. his heart doubles a beat as your hands touch for a moment but the moment is broken as your phone suddenly decides that now is the time to work.

the speakers start blaring natasha bedingfield’s ‘pocketful of sunshine’. you curse, close the till with your hip and turn to fiddle with the playlist.

oscar thinks he’s a little in love.

-❀-

logan knows that oscar likes you, which is a problem because he likes you too.

this road trip was supposed to be about finding themselves, not finding you. yet, when they find themselves back in your ice cream store the next few days, it’s no coincidence.

“you’re back again! the american and australian.” on day four, you’re not alone this time. you have a colleague, a girl who’s slightly older than you. she smirks at the two of them like she knows a secret they don’t know. “i’m not the only international one here!”

the speakers seem to work normally today, playing elton john as you hum along with it. your colleague decides that it’s time to take her lunch break, slipping off her apron and leaving the three of you to it.

“same thing as every day? or are we changing it up?”

“what do you recommend?” logan asks earnestly. he’s not losing oscar to you, maybe if he charms you enough, you’ll pick him. he doubts you will.

“everything is good here but if you really want my opinion? the chocolate fudge is a real crowd pleaser.”

“i’ll take two scoops of that and oscar’ll just have mint chocolate.” logan pulls out his wallet, opens it to find a mix of euros in there. he takes a moment to pick at the right change when you shake your head at him.

“no, it’s fine. it’s on the house today. i’m in a good mood.”

“why?”

“a lot of reasons. you know what? i forgot that i didn’t even introduce myself. i’m y/n.”

“we know.” oscar is amused.

“how? are you psychic? i used to know a psychic once and i also watched that’s so raven. great show.”

“your name badge.” logan nods at your shirt as he eats a spoonful of ice cream. you were right, it’s amazing. not too sickly but just the right amount of chocolate.

“oh.” you bite your lip in embarrassment as oscar takes his ice cream.

“i’m oscar and the american is logan.” logan smiles and waves his free hand at you. “is the shop always this empty?”

“no. it’s really busy after school and at peak times. you just always come quite early. lucky. it’s hell in here when it’s busy.” you seem relieved for the topic change. “you both here on holiday?”

“yeah. a break from our jobs.”

“lucky. my best friend is back home and i wish she was with me. she’s planning on coming up at some point thankfully. i hate being here without all my friends.”

“i can be your friend.” logan says. then he immediately regrets it. what if you think that he’s a weirdo? but when your face lights up, he realises that regret was a fleeting feeling.

“i’d love that. let me take your number. one of the guys from my class is hosting a beach party tonight if you both wanna come.”

logan looks at oscar who shrugs as if to say ‘i don’t mind if you don’t’. logan turns back to you, who is the middle of unlocking your phone and grins.

“we’ll be there.”

he types his number in your phone and sends a message to himself to save yours.

“i’ll text you the details.”

the speaker interrupts the moment that you have as it starts to malfunction. you curse again and throw your hands up in annoyance.

“stupid fucking speaker! so stupid!”

-❀-

the party is already well underway, when oscar and logan arrive. logan didn’t bother with buttoning up his shirt. he wasn’t necessarily the most confident man in the world but he was comfortable with his nakedness in a way that oscar didn’t think he’d ever be. oscar was in a undershirt with a loose overshirt.

you finally make your way over to them, panting slightly. you’re wearing a plain white bikini with an open oversized orange and yellow patterned hawaiian shirt. your hair is free from the bun they’ve seen you in work with. you smile, easy and happy.

“my two favourite customers!” you sling an arm around the two of them, hugging them so close that they can smell your perfume. “come on, let me introduce you to the five other people i know.”

you lead them down to the bonfire, where three girls and two other guys are crowded around. they cheer when you arrive with the two of them.

“guys, this is oscar and logan.” they wave politely. “oscar and logan, this is anya, jerome, alex, sienna and jaya.”

the group all cheer and welcome the two guys. it’s clear that everyone is already buzzed. oscar has never really been a big drinker so he declines a beer when offered. logan shotguns it, the residue dripping down his face. you laugh and attempt to wipe it off his face. logan goes lax in your touch and oscar can’t watch anymore.

the speaker that someone played is playing shakira as the two of you giggle in your own little world. oscar turns to jerome? or was it alex? and starts a conversation. talking about some footy game that they were watching earlier. oscar is about as into football as the next guy, but he really needs to focus on something else besides the two of you.

oscar knew that logan had always harboured some sort of inferiority complex when it came to the two of them, but logan had something that oscar doesn’t think he’d ever have - being genuinely likeable.

oscar knew he’d have to win because no one would support him as a loser. logan is just likeable regardless of what position he’s in - an underdog if he loses and a force of nature when he wins.

likeable gets the girl.

-❀-

you decide to walk the two of them to the end of the beach. the night is inky black and the only light is the remnants of the bonfire you’d lit earlier. logan is buzzed, oscar is distant and you’re still vibrating from the fact that logan made the two of you run into the cold water with him in the middle of the night.

“tonight was fun! i’m glad you were both able to make it!” you lean in and hug them both goodbye. logan swears you’d lingered a little longer while hugging him. “i’ll see you both at jim’s ice cream?”

“what is that?” logan asks bluntly. oscar elbows him lightly, not hard enough to cause damage but just enough to wind him slightly.

“the ice cream parlour she works at dumbass.” he turns to you. “we’ll see you there”

“well, i do work there. so yeah.” you laugh. all twinkly and bright. then you’re waving and jogging back to your friends. oscar watches logan look at you and sighs.

“come on man, let’s get you back.”

-❀-

logan wakes up with a hangover the next morning. oscar is a good friend and runs to the continental free breakfast and sneaks him out some waffles, croissants and eggs. he walks to the pharmacy again, paying for some ibuprofen (at least he hopes that’s what it is) with his cash and runs to the corner store to grab some extra snacks.

logan’s eyes are wide with both joy and disbelief. joy that something is there for his splitting headache and disbelief that oscar would do that for him. oscar feels a little ball of guilt unravelling inside. how bad had he let their friendship become?

they spend the day inside for the most part. watching television together. then they go outside to the pool, logan immediately jumps in but oscar sits on the side. he pulls out his phone and scrolls through the texts that he’s been ignoring. the ones from some friends, his mum, and you?

it’s not a coincidence right? that you spent the whole evening with logan and text him the next day?

he holds the phone close to his chest. he doesn’t want logan seeing this. he doesn’t know why that is. he quickly texts you back. then logan shouts.

“hey oscar! come in! the water is gorgeous.”

oscar grins and slips into the water, keeping his shirt on.

-❀-

the two of them end up at the steak restaurant together that night. they’re both dressed as nicely as possible. oscar in a nice sweater and logan in a dress shirt. the maître d’ smiled knowingly at the two of them and led them to their table.

“he thinks we’re together.” oscar whispers to logan.

“are we not?”

“we are in the literal sense. i meant in the romantic, relationship sort of sense.” logan laughs and bats his eyelashes all coy.

“oh no! oscar are you breaking up with me?”

“obviously. i’m leaving you for my secretary.” oscar’s deadpan voice just makes logan laugh harder.

“i knew it, that skank! i’ll get him fired.” oscar laughs too, breaking out into an easy smile that comes easily when logan’s around.

the sounds of the restaurant move around the two of them as they peruse the menu for a long time. it’s been a while with no conversation when oscar bites the bullet and brings it up.

“hey.” logan looks up. “i’m sorry.”

“for the secretary? don’t be. i’m running away with the pool boy.” oscar shakes his head, smiling.

“no.” oscar says. “for what happened. letting our friendship fall to the sidelines. i didn’t mean it but it didn’t excuse it. i really do like being your friend logan. i wouldn’t jeopardise that.”

logan is silent. oscar wonders if he’s crossed some unspoken line. he bites the inside of his cheek and looks at the wall of the restaurant’s decor. it’s all dark in here. would it kill them to buy some light bulbs? he understands its for ‘ambiance’ and that shit but he’s worried that he won’t be able to find his steak in the darkness.

“i was gonna say i was sorry. i thought it was my fault. that you didn’t want to be friends with,” he cuts himself off, laughing awkwardly. “a loser.”

“no. that wasn’t it. you’re not a loser, not to me.”

“i am. that’s a fact. it’s okay. you’re very nice for that but, it’s just not true.” logan swallows thickly. “now, should i get potatoes or fries as my sides?”

oscar doesn’t comment on logan’s facial expression, that he looks like he’s holding it together by a thread. he knew emotional vulnerability took a lot out of him but it was harder on the person who admitted failure.

“potatoes.” logan grins and nods before calling over the waiter.

-❀-

the next time you saw the two guys was two days after the bonfire party. they came in laughing at a joke that had happened way before they had even walked in. you find yourself standing up as soon as they enter.

“hi! y/n!” logan’s smile is always wide and happy to see you. oscar’s smile is muted but it’s still sweet. “what would you recommend for me? i liked the chocolate fudge.”

“hmm,” you think, running your hand along the counter. “we have a new flavour, chocolate covered raspberry? it’s quite popular. i think you’d like it.”

“i trust your judgement, ice cream girl.”

you crack a smile at the nickname, the smile so big that it momentarily hurts your face for a moment. you turn to oscar.

“and what about you?”

“same as usual, two scoops of vanilla.”

you nod, getting to work on the ice creams. you even offer to pay for them but they argue, threatening to shove it all in the tip jar anyway. oscar pays and when your back is turned, logan shoves twice the amount into the tip jar.

“wanna sit with us in the booth today y/n?” logan asks, taking a spoonful of his ice cream. “it’s not like anyones here.”

oscar looks up at you with his wide eyes, not really eating his ice cream. he just swirls it, until it turns into a sort of thick soup. you shrug and slide into the booth across from the two of them. you don’t have anything else to do and if a customer does decide to walk in? well, you’ll just slide back behind the counter.

“so, what’s your plan for the future?” logan grins. “and i know it’s the worst possible question to ask any young person but i’m curious. what’s the goal? is there one? it’s okay if there isn’t.”

“dream is to become an archeologist and backup plan? i don’t know. work in an office or something? maybe teaching. i haven’t thought that far ahead just yet.” you bite your lip and look out the window for a second. the day is hot, and you’re stuck inside. “what about you two? what do you do?”

“we uh, we drive.” logan looks at oscar.

“oh like uber? cool.”

“yeah, isn’t it?” oscar smiles at you.

“i still haven’t gotten my licence just yet. taxis aren’t too expensive and public transport is decent. also everywhere i need to be is pretty much walkable.” you smile at them. “have you visited all the touristy places yet?”

“not everywhere but we’re here for a while. we’re going to travel to santorini, mykonos and corfu. i’ve already planned them out.” oscar swallows his bite of ice cream. “scheduled to the exact moment we get there and get back.”

“an exotic european vacation.” you grin, waggling your eyebrows. logan laughs despite the joke not being very funny. “i’m jealous.”

“you could come with us.” oscar blurts out, his cheeks pinkening. “you’re probably busy though right? don’t worry about it. it’s weird.”

“no, no. it’s not. it’s very sweet and tempting.” you look outside the window again. “i’m not free for the whole time, but, definitely i could join you for a week? jim won’t care.”

“jim’s a real person?” logan asks, eyes wide. you laugh.

“yeah! he’s british actually. came over here when he retired and bought this place. he was one of the few people that’d hire me. my mum’s british.” you nod. “it’s a pretty decent job. if you ignore these hideous uniforms.”

you pull on the neon jim’s ice cream parlour shirt, face crumpling in disgust.

“you look good.” logan says, shyly, as he tongues the last of his ice cream. “this is good too. the ice cream. i knew i trusted you for a reason.”

-❀-

santorini is exactly like the instagram photos. well, despite being slightly too hot, a little less vibrant and he’s here with you and logan. logan has kept his shirt on this time, a loose linen blue one with a pair of shorts and flip flops. you’re dressed in a white skirt, a cropped tank top with a massive handbag.

oscar wants to do something crazy, like reach out and hold your hand or put his arm around your shoulders. he doesn’t because he’s not insane but he thinks about it for a solid moment. thinks about the way you’d curl into him or the way your shampoo would smell. he shakes his head.

“you don’t like it?” the two of you turn to look at him. fantastic. now he looks weird. his eyes widen.

“no, no! i love it. it’s lovely.” he reaches into his pocket, shaking hands grabbing his phone as he takes a picture. “i was thinking about the best angle to take this picture for my mum.”

“i’ll take a photo of you against the backdrop? maybe the both of you. your mum might like that. logan said you two were childhood best friends right?”

oscar nods. at least you bought his story. he stands against the barrier and smiles, awkwardly. he’s sure that all the other tourists are looking at him and thinking ‘what a weirdo, his crush on her is so obvious. she wants his best friend clearly, why even try?’

after a moment, logan stands next to him. logan dissipates the awkwardness with a wave of his hand and the two of them fall into an easy grin. when logan leans in and tells a joke, oscar finds himself laughing loudly with the click of your camera as background noise.

he sends it to his mother later on, when he’s in his hotel room with logan snoring in the room across from him. she texts him back quickly.

-❀-

— from mum.

well, it looks like you’re having fun honey!

— to mum.

yeah, i am.

-❀-

it doesn’t even feel like a lie when he messages her back in the cooling heat.

-❀-

it’s three days into the trip and two weeks into knowing the guys that you realise that you have a crush. it’s only a small inkling but you know it’s serious because no matter how much you try to dissuade it, it keeps popping up.

when you’re eating, when you’re brushing your teeth and even when you’re picking your outfit with him in mind. does he like blue? is he more of a yellow guy? or is it pink that’ll catch his eye?

the three of you head to a restaurant that night. it’s a seafood place, the three of you laughing and joking about something you’d seen earlier. they look good. smell good too. they even argue over who’s going to pay for the meal and look at you like you’ve got three heads when you offer to pay.

“it’s fine y/n, you’re a student.” oscar says, smiling as logan gives up. he pays quickly, all cash with no fuss. “we can get it.”

“ubering must make you a lot of money.”

“yeah. something like that.” he smiles again. this time with no teeth as he gets the receipt.

-❀-

logan goes to bed early that night, citing something about his family being desperate to check up on him. it leaves just the two of you outside in the corfu evening air.

“want to go for a walk?” you ask, looking at him earnestly.

“yeah. sure.” he’s trying not to be too eager. not to scare you off. the two of you start walking down the street.

“i always like to go for a slow walk after a big dinner. i feel like it probably helps with digestion.” you speak quietly, as if not to disturb the silence of the street. he likes your voice and is willing to listen at any volume you decide.

“i think it does. i try not to eat too much.” oscar responds, shoving a jittery hand in his pocket. “i can’t gain any weight for my job.”

“yeah, logan said. that’s weird. what kind of uber driver has a weight limit?” he shrugs and smiles. “do you miss australia?”

“sometimes. i’m used to travelling though. i’ve done it for so long.” he looks at you. “what about you? do you miss your home?”

“eh, i wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. i wanted to remake myself. i was gonna do it all y’know? a name change and everything.” you look up at the stars for a moment. “i didn’t go through with it. even if i changed my name, i’d still be y/n really. inside.”

“i get that. i think.” oscar looks at the gorgeous landscape in front of him. he ignores all the people milling around the two of you. to him it’s just you, him and the view. “so, y/n-“

your phone interrupts him. a loud, obnoxious ringing noise. you mouth an apology at him when you look at the caller id.

“sorry, it’s my best friend. she wouldn’t call me if it wasn’t important. she’s more of a texter anyways. do you mind?” you point at your phone. he shakes his head with a smile. you disappear to take your call and he finds a bench to sit on. he leans back, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

what was he thinking? asking you out? thank god the world or fate or god or whoever is in charge, stopped him before he made the biggest mistake of his life. you liked logan and he didn’t blame you. he really, truly didn’t.

when you come back, you ask him what he was going to ask. he shrugs. it wasn’t important anyways, he says. he asks what happened with your friend and listens you chatter all the way back about your friend’s current work drama.

-❀-

the next morning, logan and you head down to breakfast together. it’s a continental breakfast that the hotel offer. it’s good, with a wide spread of toast, pancakes, omelettes, cereal, fruit and sausages. you load up your plate, happy to get food for free even though technically you paid for it.

logan’s plate is smaller. you think about what they said earlier about weight limits and feel a pang of sympathy. i mean, your job was not very well paid but at least it gave you freedom in your spare time to do and eat whatever you want.

“is oscar not coming?” you ask, forking a fluffy piece of omelette and hash browns in your mouth. it’s gorgeous and you’re hungry.

“nah. he’s not feeling too good. i’ll bring him some breakfast in a bit.” logan methodically goes through his breakfast. slow, small bites and chews it for as long as possible. “wanna go for a swim later? it’s hot as hell outside. i feel my skin melting off.”

“you are going a little red.” you tease. he smiles again, shyly. his face does go red when you lean forward and press your cold cup against his cheek. “a little better?”

“it’d be better if you’d go swimming with me.” he smiles.

“of course i will. can’t leave you by yourself. who knows what’ll happen.” he laughs this time. “now wanna try some of this omelette?”

he sits politely as you lean over and feed him a forkful of the spinach and cheese omelette. for a moment, the two of you look into each other's eyes as you feed him. he turns away as soon as it’s okay and chews the bite.

“good?”

“yeah. yeah. it’s good.” he smiles at you. “let me just get some more water for us, be back in a moment.”

“is it getting too hot for you?” you tease.

“a little.” he sheepishly grins again. “let me cool down.”

-❀-

it’s your last day with the two of the guys before they drop you back off at the bus stop to go back to athens. your heart is still pinching at the thought of leaving, but you decide your last day can’t be in vain. they’ll be going home soon so it’ll be the best time to admit what you already knew. what you had known for the whole time.

you’d been on the phone with your best friend who had helped you to write a pros and cons list.

— pros - you could be a girlfriend to a great guy. you would be happy. you would have a rich boyfriend (your bff added that). you could touch them in any way they’d let you. you could sleep together. you could also sleep together (bff again). you would have a great time. you would have fun. would it improve your life? potentially.

— cons - they could say no and you’d have to jump off a cliff. they could be dating each other and you’d be embarrassed that you didn’t figure it out. they could laugh at you. they could be disgusted. they could be nice about it and gently let you down. they’re not even from anywhere close to greece. it’d be a long distance relationship. could you even deal with that?

you shake your head and lift your hand up to his bedroom door. the wood is cold under your knuckles. the world still moves around you, tourists laughing in their rooms and people walking around. their voices murmuring.

as your hand hovered there, you thought for a moment. about how this could change everything. was it too soon? too risky? then you remembered, it’s now or never.

take the plunge and with that, you knock.

liked by anyaaaa, alexjohnson and 183 others.

yourusername: this summer is going well. made two new friends, spent half of my savings and made some new memories and isn’t that what life is all about?

anyaaaa: when are you coming back? miss u girl!!

-> yourusername: soon! i just need to figure something out first.

-> anyaaaa: you’ll figure it out. you always do. can’t wait till you come back <33

taglist: @decafmickey @nichmeddar @casperlikej @purplephantomwolf @cuteskz @booksandflowrs @mxdi0 @alexmarie29 @luckyladycreator2 @23victoria @molten-m122 @evie-119 (want to be removed? or wondering why you weren’t tagged? check your tag settings or send me an ask!)

[gh0stsp1d3r]

𝒮𝓌𝒶𝓃

-coryo with a dancer! Reader cause why not. Might make this a series. Love at first sight type trope

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Part 2, part 3

Coriolanus Snow's heart belonged to you the second he laid his eyes on you. The dancer girl he's been told he had to mentor.

Everyone in district 12 knew you, the girl who danced before she walked, some liked to call you. Though you were mostly known as swan. The white frilly dress you usually wore was the main reason, the way you danced so gracefully.

You, like everyone else in the districts, were poor. You had no family, no one to go home to. But still, you were happy. You served as a sign of hope, of love and care to everyone who could see you dance.

Your heart sunk as your name was called, people murmured as they turned to you. You took a deep breath before walking up, ignoring the stares and the whispers.

You stood up to the stage, looking directly into the cameras with a glare. You detested the games, they were inhumane and terrible.

“The “runt girl” from district 12. She belongs to Coriolanus Snow.”

That’s the moment that the entirety of the capital knew Coriolanus snow would have his hands full with this girl.

The train came to a slow stop, you were helped out by Jessup, the man from your district who you’ve gotten to know.

You both had turned around when a blonde haired boy came up. He was gorgeous, he stood in front of you and held out a white rose.

“Welcome to the capital.”

You looked at the rose, slowly taking it and admiring it.

“You look like you shouldn’t be here.” You remarked, a small smile on your face as your fingers pulled off a petal or two.

“Well, I shouldn’t. But I’m your mentor.” He was interested in you.

“A rebel, huh?” You joked. “What is a mentor supposed to do, exactly?” You asked curiously.

“To take care of their tribute.”

“What’s your name..?” You asked him.

“Coriolanus Snow.”

“Y/n L/n. But most people in 12 know me as swan.”

He was about to ask you something when he was cut off by a scream.

“No!” Some girl shouted as she was thrown out, you looked up and frowned as the peacekeepers grabbed her and forced her to stand up.

“Assholes.” You mumbled when they walked past you, looking them up and down. Some others came from behind and told you guys to move along.

He had followed them into the truck, once the peacekeepers were distracted, running into it. You watched him with a furrowed brow, he looked back and saw all the tributes looking at him.

What an odd man, you thought.

“Hi.” He said to them.

“What’s the matter pretty boy? You in the wrong cage?”

“No. This cage is delightful.”

“Get him reaper.” One said.

“I will kill you right now.” He pinned him to the wall of the truck.

“He’ll do it too. He killed a peacekeeper back in 11.” One girl said.

“I say we all kill him.”

“Do you guys have family back home? Friends? They’ll kill everyone you know if you kill him. Probably not the best idea.” You shrugged, not looking up at them and still just messing with the rose.

“And he’s my mentor, I would rather you not kill him.”

“How come you get a mender?”

“Mentor. You each get one.” He corrected.

“And we’re all just supposed to believe you?”

“I’m just.. here to help you.”

“Why does uh.. dancer girl here get special treatment? Why aren’t our menders here?”

You looked up from the rose now, looking at the girl in your face. You then looked over to the blonde boy, he was looking back at you. You shrugged, “Just not inspired, I guess.”

He sent you a small smirk, and the truck started to beep. Everyone started falling, and the blonde boy quickly grabbed you, holding you. You both had fallen down together, and looked out.

You were both inside some cage, there was a crowd of people outside, looking as if you were all animals.

“It’s terrible.” You mumbled out, he looked at you now, curiosity in his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Everything. Why do we have to pay the price for something we had no part in? It’s like we’re fuckin’ animals.” You turned to him now.

He didn’t say anything, instead swallowing the lump in his throat and looking at the crowd. You did as well.

He liked that you were fierce. You weren't afraid to speak your mind, or your truth. It made him all the more enamored with you.

A performer forced to fight. That’s all you were. He knew it, of course he did. He was your only shot of winning, of surviving. You slowly learned to trust him and began to do what he had asked of you.

He asked you to dance once you got up on that stage, and he was right. The donations came pouring in, the people loved you, and now it wasn't people only from the districts, it was people from the capitol.

He watched with a small smile on his face as you leaped across the stage, you seemed at peace when you danced. It was graceful, and elegant even with the now worn-out dress.

You truly were just a little swan, his swan to protect and keep.

[mythunderstorm]

Angie gets a mom | MS47

mick schumacher x fem!reader

word count: 980

summary: Mick loves you. Angie loves you. Time to make you her mom officially.

warnings: none?? maybe one swear word lol

masterlist

It is summer break for Formula 1 and after months you guys are finally visiting your parents in your hometown again.

The weather is currently not really summer-ish, it’s cloudy, not too hot and sometimes it rains a bit but you don’t mind. It reminded you of autumn, a season which you dearly loved so the combination of your favorite season and being able to spend lots of time with Mick was absolutely amazing.

You’re awoken by the sound of wind blowing, taking a look at the clock you realize it’s still early. Too early to get up, you decide, so you move closer to your boyfriend hugging him tight. Spending time with Mick is probably your favorite activity, no matter what you guys are doing. Soon, the second half of the season begins so you have to cherish every moment with your lovely boyfriend.

You’re almost back in the land of dreams, when suddenly you can feel soft tapping against your leg. Turning your head you spot Angie, trying to get your attention.

„Oh Angie, you wanna come cuddle?“ you say while making room for her to squeeze between you and Mick. „Good Girl, come here.“ You adored cuddling with Angie, she was just so soft and sweet.

„I think at this point she might love you more than she loves me.“ Mick suddenly says, after letting out a yawn.

„Oh sorry baby, did we wake you?“ you say, ignoring what Mick just said.

„No, it’s okay. I love waking up next to may favorite girls.“ he says, kissing you on the forehead. You only smile, enjoying this calm morning with your loved ones.

About half an hour later Angie gets a bit restless, a sign that it’s time for her morning walk. After brushing your teeth and changing your clothes into something that’s appropriate for the weather, you and Mick start walking to the small forest near your childhood home. Your parents were still sound asleep when you guys left, so you wrote them a note, telling where you and Mick went incase they wake up.

„I love this. I wish we could go on walks like this every morning.“ Mick suddenly says, making you lean more into his side.

„I‘d love that too baby, but you love your job aswell. And now walks like this are something special, so enjoy it and look forward to our next visit here“ you smile, kissing his cheek. Mick signs, he knows you’re right. He loves racing and he loves working for Mercedes but most importantly he loves you. So he only gives you a quick kiss on the lips, enjoying this moment like you said.

Angie enjoys it too, she’s running around, taking in all the different smells but is still staying close to you two. Her excitement makes you giggle.

„Anything funny sweetheart?“ Mick absolutely loves your laugh. It’s the sweetest sound he has ever heard.

„I‘m just happy that Angie is enjoying herself so much.“ you say in a gentle voice. „Sometimes i feel like she’s our firstborn, just my little baby which I want to be happy and pleased at all times.“

Mick can only stare at you. He loves you so much, it’s insane. Hearing you say that makes him even crazier about actually starting a family with you. And now is the perfect timing to do the first step.

He already asked your father. It was really important for Mick to have your dad’s blessing and after he said that it would make him the happiest dad ever to have Mick as his son in law, the young Schumacher thought everyday about the perfect moment to pop the question.

And now, seeing you so happy, enjoying this calm morning walk with Angie while holding his hand, rambling about nature and how much you love being here with him, he knew. He knew this was the moment.

You, being blissfully unaware about what’s going on in your boyfriends head, continued walking and rambling about everything that came to your mind until you realized that Mick stopped. Turning around you looked at him with a questioning look, tilting your head. „Everything okay, Micky?“

Mick just looked at you, his eyes being so full of love and adoration that you started to blush under this intense gaze. He took one step towards you, until he slowly started to get down on one knee.

„Oh my god…“ you mumble, tears starting to form in your eyes.

Mick smiles. „Darling, you’re my home“, he starts. „I love you more than life itself and I can’t believe that I managed to get a girl like you. You are absolutely perfect, perfect for me. I don’t deserve the love you give me everyday but I am willing to show you for the rest of our lives how much I love and appreciate you. You‘re the perfect mom for Angie and the perfect wife for me. Soo..“ Mick clears his throat briefly, the tears that formed in his eyes are now rolling freely over his cheeks. „y/n/n, will you marry me?“ your boyfriend (for now) asks, fishing a dark blue velvet box from his pocket, showing you the most beautiful ring you‘ve ever seen.

You are absolutely baffled. You would have never expected this to happen today, maybe someday, but not today. But you know your answer, you knew you wanted to marry Mick two month into your relationship.

Happily you throw yourself into his arms, kissing him all over his face while mumbling „yes, yes, yes“ between kisses. Mick laughs, hugging you close. „I love you Micky, oh my god I- fuck I‘m speechless!“ you giggle, while more tears are streaming down both your faces.

„Now you’re going to be Angies Mom officially“ Mick quips, making you even happier.

You’re going to marry the love of your life.

[doc-pickles]

waking up in vegas | matthew tkachuk x hughes!sister (p. 1)

series masterlist

summary: nothing can go wrong when you take a sibling trip to vegas with the tkachuks… right?

warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, allusions to sex but no smut

a/n: this is a self indulgent fic that I might write a part two for 👀 enjoy!

xoxo

nina

The light shining through the windows is too bright, the hum of the AC is too loud. The blankets are too heavy, even the skin of your arms and legs feels too hot.

Yup. You’re hungover.

With a groan you push your face back into your pillow, trying to regulate your breathing as you fight back the urge to vomit. You don’t remember much from last night besides your brothers feeding you shots and dancing with Taryn. At some point, you’d lost Brady and Jack was heckling Luke for something you can’t recall. Quinn had been complaining about the music being too loud and Matthew… Well, you can’t quite place him in your memories of last night.

Your family had been close with the Tkachuks since you could remember. You’d spent summers, holidays, and everything in between with them. Quinn and Jack had always been attached at the hip with Brady and Matthew while you and your twin brother Luke had gravitated toward Taryn.

When your and Luke’s 21st birthday came around Matthew and Jack jumped at the opportunity to plan a trip to Vegas to celebrate the occasion, excited for the seven of you to run the town together.

Except now you feel like you’re dying. You roll over in bed, expecting to find Luke who you usually crawl into bed with when drunk. But the body next to yours is more muscular than Luke’s and the arm wrapped around you holds you tighter than your twin ever had.

“Moving too much,” the sleep heavy voice next to you sounds. “Come cuddle, you’re warm.”

You stomach drops as you realize you know exactly who’s in bed next to you.

“Oh fuck!”

Sitting up in a haze, you look down at none other than Matthew Tkachuk who’s curled tightly around your body.

Your naked body.

“Oh my god,” you shriek, which instantly wakes Matthew up as you begin to fully freak out. “Holy fucking shit!”

Matthew cracks his eyes open, looking over the situation before pressing his hands into his face, “I am so fucking dead.”

“You? What about me?!” you throw your hands out in exasperation and spy something glittering on your left hand. “Oh my god…”

You turn your hand over to reveal a large diamond ring shining in the morning sun. Without thinking you grab Matthew’s arm, a matching silver band adorning his left hand.

“Did we get married?!”

At your words Matthew sits up, eyes surveying the hotel room. Your own follow his path, taking in the white dress and suit on the floor along with a bouquet of flowers, pizza boxes, and empty champagne bottles.

“Oh my god! Matty what the fuck!”

There’s suddenly a pounding on your hotel door and you can hear voices on the other side.

“I swear I’ll break this door down,” Quinn threatens as he calls your name. “Open up or I’m calling mom!”

Matthews face pales and you quickly scramble to grab a hotel robe before sticking your head into the hallway.

“Hey Quinny,” you grin, ignoring the furious look on your oldest brother's face and trying to tamp down your own nerves. “What’s up?”

“Oh nothing, just a beautiful day where my sister decided to get married instead of doing something responsible like going to bed last night,” Quinn deadpans as he glares at you from the doorway, Jack at his side wearing a smirk. “I just came down here to warn you that Luke is probably going to murder whoever’s in your bed right now.”

“About that…” you groan as you press your forehead to the cold wood of the door. “Hubby, are you decent enough for me to let my brothers in?”

Instead of a response a pillow hits your back and you take that as a sign from Matthew to open the door. When your brothers walk in Quinn groans and Jack begins to laugh hysterically until you glare at him and he shuts up.

“I can’t believe you eloped with Matty,” Quinn runs his hand over his face and heaves a sigh. “Jack, I told you this trip was a bad idea.”

“And where were you when the eloping was happening,” you ask as you sit on the edge of the bed. Matthew’s hand rests gently on your back and for some reason the motion is comforting. “I distinctly remember Jack and Taryn encouraging us to go to the chapel.”

“And you listened?!” Quinn screeches.

“And Luke was making out with the cocktail waitress,” Matthew supplies. As soon as he says it you have a vivid image in your head of Luke and a bottle blonde waitress sucking each others faces off. “Brady went back early to call Emma. So that leaves you Quinn.”

Quinn rolls his eyes, “Oh my god. You’re not pinning this on me. It is not my fault you two decided to get hitched because you’d had five too many margaritas and decided to listen to Taryn and Jack for advice.”

You open your mouth to respond but the door bursts open and Luke is now standing in the middle of the room with an angry expression as he takes in the sight of you and Matthew sitting together on the hotel bed.

“Luke-“

“I leave you unattended for half an hour last night and you wake up married?!”

“I wasn’t the one making out with the cocktail waitress all night,” you retort and Luke crosses his arms.

“You cannot seriously be comparing the two instances,” Luke huffs as he steps forward. “Move so I can punch Matthew.”

At your brothers words Matthew grips your shoulders and attempts to use you as a human shield. “You’ll have to get through my wife first.”

Luke, Jack, and Quinn all started yelling at that point, Matthew ducking behind you as they continued to argue.

“Enough!,” you shouted over your brothers. “This is a non issue, I’ll just get the marriage annulled and we can all pretend like it never happened.”

Jack scoffs, “Yeah tell that to Taryn’s camera roll. Pretty sure she’s planning on making you a wedding album for Christmas.”

Luke begins to protest again but you cut him off, “Non issue! Now get out so I can shower and contemplate my life choices in peace.”

Quinn and Jack make a show of grumbling and complaining on their way out the door while Luke stares you and Matthew down, “I swear to god Tkachuk if you find a way to fuck this up even more, so help me.”

“Goodbye Luke,” you wave at him and finally the room is clear. You heave a breath and turn to Matthew who’s grinning. “What?”

“If we’re still technically married does that mean we can have guilt free sex,” Matthew asks with a smirk, his fingers pushing down the top of your robe to show off the purple hickeys on your neck. “Because it looks like we already consummated the marriage.”

You groan, pushing off Matthew as you head to the bathroom, “In your dreams Tkachuk.”

“Trust me Mrs. Tkachuk I’m gonna have the sweetest dreams about you.”

[slowandsteddie]

Part Two is here

Steve likes to clean headstones at cemeteries.

CW: drug mentions, weed being smoked, glossed over panic attack (I didn’t want to write on it too much), and Steve is so incredibly lonely.

3018 words. Not edited but I was EXCITED.

Steve had always enjoyed going to the cemetery. He had family buried there, sure, but that wasn’t what he went for.

He was the kind of guy who went to clean off the older headstones that no one else did. There was just something so honest and relaxing in giving people their names back.

A water bottle, a soft bristle toothbrush, and an old credit card were all he took out of the car with him whenever he parked. Steve cleaned in sections, giving each stone the time and care it needed to get all of the dirt and grime off of it and out of the names. As soon as the names were clean, he’d gently place his fingers over them and smile.

“Hello, Clarence.” He said softly. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

The only answer was a slight breeze and a crow cawing.

“Hello, my love,” he said to the bird before carefully pushing himself to his feet.

His knees were sore. That headstone required a lot more precision as it was a lot older and one wrong move would probably leave it crumbling. He had told the front office a few times about it, but they wouldn’t take care of it.

“We can’t make money upkeeping stones of people who have no family left to mourn them.”

He lost track of how many times he had been told that. It didn’t stop him from cleaning the stones and letting whoever was the receptionist that day know.

When he was done for the evening, he’d allow himself to bask in the peace that came over him and warmed him. He’d have a smile on his face that lasted until he got home.

The contentment would leave as soon as he saw that big house that he lived in. His parents were never home and he had no siblings to help him fill the empty halls with noise.

Steve used to throw a lot of parties, just so he would have other people under his roof with him. He hadn’t done that since the night that Nancy called their relationship bullshit and then immediately got into one with Johnathan. It hurt him more deeply than he could express, but it was a much needed wake up call.

The Upside Down was another wake up call, but he tried to ignore that one.

Now, if he wasn’t at work or hanging out with The Party as they liked to call themselves, he was cleaning headstones until he had to leave. He thought it was ridiculous that the cemetery closed at night. If he could, he’d probably stay the night in the mausoleum just so that the people resting there would know that they weren’t forgotten about. Not while he still had air in his lungs.

Most people would tell him that there were healthier things to do with his time. Less morbid things in any case. But he felt so alive when he was alone with the stones and birds. It was better than being alone with half a house he wasn’t even supposed to go into.

His room, the kitchen, the bathroom. That was what his parents wanted him to confine himself to. Not even the living room because he wasn’t supposed to have guests over when they weren’t home. And they were never fucking home.

Steve parked the car in the driveway and stared at that stupid fucking door that had nothing behind it and sighed. Deeply. The car was still running and his fingers tapped on the steering wheel.

No.

He couldn’t do it. Not tonight. He couldn’t stand the thought of being so utterly alone right now.

So, he backed out of the driveway and started driving again. He wasn’t even really sure of where he was headed, just that he wasn’t going to that house right now. If he went too far, he was going to have to stop for gas at some point and he didn’t get paid for a few more days. That meant he might go hungry for a day. That was fine. He’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

Eventually, he found himself at the trailer park. Wayne’s truck wasn’t there, but the van was. A good sign that Eddie was home and that his uncle was at work.

This time, Steve did turn off the car when he parked. A moment of hyping himself up later, Steve got out of the car and went to knock on the front door. Thirty seconds after that, he heard someone tripping over something. Then the door opened.

The smell of cigarette smoke rolled out into the fresh air and he couldn’t help but to breathe a little deeper.

Eddie looked good, his long curly hair pulled into a messy bun and baggy sweats hanging a little low on his hips. Any other circumstance, and Steve was pretty sure he’d feel blessed that he got to see Munson without a shirt on. He might have been scrawny but those tattoos were a work of art. He was a work of art. Fuck.

Steve had to blink a few times to realize that the other male had been talking to him.

“Sorry. Rough night,” he explained. Though, it hadn’t been rough until he started thinking about being alone. Again.

“How can I help?” Eddie’s voice was smooth and Steve had to swallow before he could reply.

“Do you, uh, have anything left in that lunch pail?”

“Is Steve Harrington really at my door, asking to buy weed from me?”

“Is that a yes or a no answer, Eddie Munson?”

“It’s a get in here and give me a minute answer.”

Steve didn’t need to be told twice. He went inside as soon as Eddie moved out of the way before closing the door behind him. He ran a hand through his hair as he took another step, just so he wasn’t right against the door.

Eddie wandered off, back to his room probably, and Steve stayed where he was. He looked around the small place and realized that this was a home. A place that was lived in, a place where love resided. His house could never compare. It was bigger and in better condition, but that meant nothing to him.

“You’re in luck, I have a baggie with your name on it.”

“I swear to god if you just used that sharpie to write The Hair on that bag…”

Eddie tossed the sharpie away from himself and whistled innocently. Steve wanted to be annoyed, but he actually laughed.

“So. How much?”

Eddie tilted his head.

“For the stuff?” Steve continued.

“You’re going to buy and smoke it, but you draw the line at saying weed?”

It should be illegal for someone to look that good while being that condescending.

“How much for the weed, Eddie?” Steve gave in.

“For you? I’ll take ten bucks.”

“Damn,” He replied as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. “That’s highway robbery.” A sly smile tugged at his lips as he pulled out a Hamilton and held it out for the older male.

Eddie took it and put the baggy in Steve’s still outstretched hand. “Now get out of here. I have a reputation.”

“You? What reputation?” He teased.

Eddie grinned. “The one where I don’t hang out with jocks. See you tomorrow, Harrington.”

“Not if I see you first, Munson.”

Steve shook his head before heading toward the door. Their interaction kept him warm all the way home.

That time when he arrived in his driveway, he stayed there. He pulled the keys out of the ignition and locked the doors to the vehicle before walking around the side of the house to get to his backyard. He knew better than to get into the pool while home alone, even if he was on the swim team. But that wasn’t where he was headed. He kept walking until he was in the woods, at his usual haunt.

He had built himself a little structure that was barely big enough for two people. It was tight and comfortable. Very underwhelming compared to the house that constantly felt like Too Much. He sat down on the small pile of pillows and wrapped a blanket around himself in an attempt to get that warm feeling back from his interaction with Eddie.

He grabbed his bong, which was always in his little hut, and the nearby water bottle before setting it up. Next he grabbed the lighter and flicked it a few times to make sure that it still worked. He didn’t smoke weed a lot, a baggy could probably last him a few months, but sometimes he just needed to be under the influence in order to handle being in his room. With the hazy feeling, it was easier to pretend that there was someone in the other room. Or, at least easier to believe that it could be true.

One hit was all it took for him to realize that Eddie had given him the good stuff. A huge smile tugged at his lips. He’d make him some cookies or something to thank him. He’d have to come up with a good excuse to stop by that Hellfire table at school and drop off a plate, but he could figure it out later. When he got that far.

A second hit gave him the feeling that he was after. Steve felt so cool when he realized that he didn’t choke like he usually did. He took care of everything properly before hiding the weed under the pillows that he had been sitting on.

He wandered back to his house, feeling a little better about the whole Alone Situation, and went in through the backdoor so he wouldn’t have to walk around the house again. Steve got a few steps away before remembering to go back and make sure that the door was locked. That had him checking all of the rest of the doors and even the windows.

When he got to his room, he stripped down to his boxers before crawling between the sheets. He pulled the covers up to his chin and snuggled in before closing his eyes and letting his mind wander until he fell asleep.

—

It was five o’clock in the morning when Steve’s eyes flashed open. His heart was pounding as he worked on untangling himself from the sheets. Trapped. He felt trapped.

Somehow, he ended up on the floor with a solid thud that knocked the wind out of him. He was gasping, but at least he was free of the blanket that had him pinned in place before.

“F-fuck,” he groaned as the tears started to slide down his face.

He gave himself a few minutes before forcing himself to his feet and stumbling to the bathroom. Shower. He needed a shower. So that was exactly what he did.

One fifteen minute cold shower later, Steve was feeling more himself again. He dried off and got dressed before taking his time to make sure that his hair was perfect.

After all of that it was still too early to head to school, which meant that he found himself going to the kitchen and pulling out the ingredients to make some chocolate chip cookies. It was a safe choice. Everyone loved chocolate chips and there were no nuts in case someone had an allergy.

A double batch of cookies later, the phone was ringing.

“Hello?” Steve greeted, cradling the receiver between his ear and shoulder as he wiped his hands on the apron that he had put on before he started baking. He adjusted the phone onto his hand as he straightened up. “Hello?”

“Stevie!” His mother’s voice came across the line. “We’ll be home for a few weeks soon!”

“That’s great, mom. I can’t wait to hear about this adventure.” It was hard to sound excited.

All that complaining about an empty house and knowing his parents were coming back didn’t help. His mother would fuss for a day or two. His father would act like it hadn’t been months since they’ve seen each other. They’d probably even ignore him as usual, to be honest. His parents tended to think that making sure the bills were paid was more than enough. It wasn’t. Steve was done trying to convince them of that, though.

They talked for a few minutes, her words not really sinking in. Then he hung up and leaned against the wall, trying to convince himself to not cry. He took a deep breath and almost called Eddie before just hanging up the phone again and walking away from it.

Steve slid all of the cookies into a Tupperware container before grabbing his backpack and heading out to the car.

He was still going to be too early for school.

Which meant that he headed to the cemetery to clean a few headstones beforehand.

—

Steve was rolling through the motions, something that no one picked up on despite his reputation as King Steve. He was grateful for that.

His morning classes blurred together and then it was lunch time. He didn’t even have an excuse in mind when he walked over to Eddie’s table. If anyone told him anything, he ignored it. Instead, he set his bag down and unzipped it before pulling out the cookies and handing them to the older male who looked at him strangely.

“I didn’t poison them, Munson, jeez.”

Then he was zipping his bag back up and walking over to sit next to Tommy and Carol. Steve tried to focus, but he found himself looking toward the DND group a lot. Eddie was grinning as he wiped some cookie crumbs from his mouth.

Good.

The afternoon classes also passed in a blur, and then he found himself at the cemetery again.

It was a nice place to be, especially on a day like this. It was warm and sunny with a light breeze and some clouds in the sky. A crow was talking to him and he was talking back, saying things like “hello, my love” and “how is my pretty baby today” and “who should get their name back today, hmm?”

Eventually, he did find the headstone he wanted to clean. It was in a corner he hadn’t gotten to yet because of the beehive and swarms of the little stingy friends. Steve was allergic to bee stings, but he was calm and collected as he walked past them. He knelt down and gently brushed away what he could get with his hands before opening the bottle and splashing some water down. Then, he gently used the toothbrush to clean away dirt and moss.

Steve wasn’t sure how much time had passed, though he did look up when he saw a shadow. He was surprised to see Eddie looking down at him.

“Whatcha doing, Harrington?”

He leaned back so he was sitting on his feet and used the back of his hand to push his hair away from his face. There was no use trying to say that this was anything other than what it was.

“I like to give people their names back.” He shrugged. “It’s stupid, I know. But I think that they know they’re being remembered, or at least thought about, when someone can read their name.”

“It’s not stupid, Steve,” Eddie said softly before squatting down on the other side of the headstone.

They looked at each other for what felt like ages. It was probably only seconds. The older male pulled out his handkerchief and gently rubbed away enough that Steve could read the last name on the stone he decided to clean.

Munson.

“Who was she?” He asked softly.

“My aunt. Wayne’s wife.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I barely knew her. But sometimes I come out here because he can’t. And she deserves to be remembered.”

Steve felt like he was seeing Eddie in an all new light. He didn’t want to make the other male think about it too much. Besides, it seemed like he wanted to change the subject.

“I, uh… I come out here almost everyday. Clean different headstones based on who I feel could use it the most that day. I talk to the crows, too. Sometimes I let them pick for me.” He was blushing again.

“Did you bake those cookies?”

Steve was the one grateful for the subject change this time.

“Yeah. This morning. I realized how good of a deal you gave me last night and I just… wanted to thank you.”

“They were amazing.”

“Thank you. That recipe is the only thing I got from my grandma before she passed. She did make me promise to not tell anyone the secret ingredient, though.”

“Was it crack? It tasted like crack. I couldn’t stop eating them.”

Steve laughed at that before pushing himself to his feet and offering Eddie his hand.

“You caught me. I have a huge supply of crack for baking purposes.”

Eddie snorted. “I knew it.”

They released hands and Steve had a feeling that it was reluctantly on both sides, not just his.

“I’m glad you found me.”

“Yeah?” Eddie seemed surprised.

“Yeah. I’m actually highly allergic to bee stings and I might have needed some help with the epi-pen if one got me.”

They both laughed at that, though Steve did notice that he was being guided away from the stingy friends after that. The hand on the small of his back felt like friendship, though he’d never say it.

Once they were far enough from the bees that the older male stopped feeling the need to keep them walking, Steve met his gaze.

“What about your reputation?” He joked.

“What about it? Just because I don’t hang out with jocks doesn’t mean that I’m going to let one die because they wanted to give my aunt her name back.”

“I think you might have a soft spot for me,” Steve joked.

“Yeah,” Eddie murmured while glancing at Steve’s lips. Their eyes met again. “Maybe I do.”

Let me know if I should do a part two.

[phantomtwitch]

Masterpost

PhantomTwitch | 30-something | she/her

Hi! Welcome to my blog! It's only taken me over a decade to finally do this. I love cartoons and writing and all kinds of other things, and I have the kind of lame sense of humor that makes three year olds laugh hysterically and anyone older than ten roll their eyes most of the time.

This place is a disorganized disaster (kind of like my brain), with this post probably the closest thing to any sense of order I've tried to impose on it. Below are links to my various writings, as Tumblr's search bar sucks and most of you are probably members of the phandom that stumbled across one of my works somewhere and came looking for more.

(Though whether that's the case or not, you're welcome either way!)

I write a lot and genuinely love it. The only part of writing I actually hate is coming up with titles and summaries. Sometimes I get a decent flash of inspiration for a title, other times? Ehhhhh.

I'm happy to answer any asks and will, like many, happily ramble on endlessly about my fics.

I rarely post WIPs, so unless noted, all of the works below are completed as of this time and on AO3.

Danny Phantom Fanfics

Echoes

There was something wrong with Danny Fenton.

Nearly eighteen months after a lab accident left him hospitalized, his friends and family assumed he was still recovering from the side effects of his near-death experience. But after witnessing Danny do something ghostly, they begin to suspect something much more sinister is afoot and set out to save their friend from the clutches of the evil ghost possessing him.

As The Ice Begins to Crack

Little by little, as the public’s perception of him changed, Danny’s ghost form continued to reflect it. He looked more human every day, more confident, and more like the superheroes from the comics they used to read on the floor of Danny’s room as kids. As the months passed there was a moment when Tucker began to forget, to wonder if what he saw when Danny first stepped out of the portal that day was nothing more than a nightmare.

Inspired by this post on tumblr from paenling

Doubt Comes In

For InvisoBang 2023.

When Danny Fenton returns on the first day of spring after being kidnapped by the Fright Knight, something is off. His teeth are too sharp, his skin is too pale, and when he’s angry, the lights flicker as a harsh chill and the scent of ozone permeates the air as if heralding an approaching storm. There are moments when he is impossibly still, more statue than flesh, more ghost than human, and little by little everyone wonders if the child sitting in their midst is truly still Danny at all.

Scars He Hides

For Ecto-implosion 2023.

The portal accident left Danny with scars that glow whether he's Fenton or Phantom. He's done his best to hide them, but it's only a matter of time before someone finds out his secret.

Beyond the Grave

For Ecto-implosion 2023.

At the start of his freshman year, Danny Fenton disappeared. But much as Dash didn’t care and preferred to focus on football, it’s hard to avoid thinking about it after seeing Fenton dig himself out from an unmarked grave in the woods.

What We Have Been is What We Are

Based on this tumblr prompt from MadameTamma here

Maddie has a near death experience when an invention blows up on her in the lab. Her spirit is suddenly thrust from her body, and Clockwork appears to guide her down the Path, presenting her with a chance to learn from her past as her life flashes before her eyes. Little by little there are signs that she's missed something, that there's something off with Danny, and she finds herself risking her very existence to learn the truth.

So You Have Wished It

Something is wrong. Something has changed.

The signs start off so small, so easy to dismiss, but little by little it begins to spiral until Sam can't ignore it anymore and she's forced to face reality once again.

(This is a one-shot from part of a bigger AU I am working on currently)

My Body Is a Cage

For Angst Fest 2023

His friends aren't sure how much longer they can keep this a secret. Every time a ghost appears, Danny dies again. And every time Danny dies, they bring him back.

It doesn't help that no matter how much they try to explain to Danny what's happening, the truth never sticks.

Unnamed Electric Core OneShot

Currently on Tumblr only, now a bigger WIP, but this can still be read on its own. Another No One Knows AU with the ghosts being creepier than in canon.

Unnamed WIP

Currently on Tumblr only, this was inspired by yet another MadameTamma prompt where Danny does not remember being human. Body Horror fic and currently a WIP.

[stormphantomnightingale]

https://www.tumblr.com/dcxdpdabbles/737569117273456640/there-are-so-many-fics-out-there-where-danny-is?source=share

So after reading this ☝️for the who knows how many time, when an idea or something just popped out. Now we all know that in this magnificent fandom(dpxdc) that Amity is a no go area right? Well what if and I mean what if the Bats after talking with sad trenchcoat man(Yes I called John that and no I will not stop thank you very much) about Amity, Conny goes hesteria cause he outdated and stuff or just didn't know King Phantom but yeah starts talking about Pariah Dark(who is redeemed or just in the dog house cause he pissed of clockwork), ghost zone being dangerous etc etc.

Now this makes the bats assume even more that our space boi Danny is not safe. So what they do? After idk bribing the judge or somehow provide 'proof' of abuse which makes the Fenton's lose custody(Danny is not happy), takes Danny to Gotham(via knockout cause my boi will go feral), then returns back to amity as the furry squad. Do some hacking shit but since they don't know Fenton tech and Fenton thinking(I genuinely believe the Fenton's are Hella smart like Hella smart it might piss of Lex) and probably set up the self destruction system(TUE vibes).[which to normal people is the portal closing shut permanently,data is gone or encrypted by which a Fenton can access idk it's your choice person who decides to read and write or see this interesting].

Now we can make it that either one adult comes back alive or survived the blow due to being heavily ecto contaminated or be a ghost but I'm hoping Maddie (and Jazz) cause guys lets be honest here. Maddie is a beast when it comes to her family and kids, I can tell through canon wise she will literally go through hell, Tartarus, hell even throw hands with some ancients just for her kids. But anyways one Fenton comes back, teams up with Vlad(could be poly or good asshole uncle Vlad) along with the Elinor or Elizabeth(Yes Dani's other name is Elizabeth or Elinor) and Dante to try get Danny back.

Now to our boi we love, care Danny. So we have suspicious, angry and so many emotion Danny Fenton-Wayne. So we Danny who was practically taken away from his safety, his home, family, his friads and into another on in America. Now we can all agree that Danny is not happy about this and not because of the -whole taking me away from my family and no I'm not being in denial they love me so stop talking u ancient poorly dressed furries- It's about something much bigger and we all know, we hate it, despised it and we call it.... ANTI ECTO ACTS or as I like to call THE REBOOT WITCH TRIALS.

So that abomination there is something Danny hates,fears so him being in America puts him in bootleg men in black because of a bitch named Lex Luthor. It's like painting a bullseye on him, a huge ass arrow pointing at him with the signs 'Im a ghost in America come cut me up'. So yeah its bad for him especially when he finds out the Wayne's are sponsoring The furry squad and the justice league which in turn make things worse for him and the ghost zone cause the ghost(and other supernaturals cause u can't tell me, once a vampire or mermaid find out humans are now hunting ghosts they wont immediately assume they are next? Let's cause mass panic with the other supernaturals, witches having PTSD, they tweeking seeing the acts)are demanding blood, war, retribution from the living. So he is in emeny territory trying to survive, try get back to his family and try to calm the other ghost cause they thought he died to the explosion(yeah Danny won't be okay)but never came to the ghost zone so vengeance for the king.

Welp that what came up in mind, u can ignore it, or whatever just thought I share something with yall. But yeah basically for the last paragraph I want maybe the Justice League to either face backlash or punishment for agreeing with the law, cause in most fics we don't get to see what the ghost think or if they forgave em. Cause while the humans(idk why I'm calling people human when I'm human as well) think the Justice league was writing a wrong most will question if this won't happen again. I want the supernatural to actively be upset with them especially those from the magic committee, to question whether they should be trusted seeing as this was a retry of the Salem Witch Trials Era. And to exactly be wary and suspicious of Bruce or just genuinly not trust or like him cause guys let's be fucking honest here while yeah the bats is awesome we forgot one thing he is human flesh and bones, something so fragile in the eyes of all supernatural that they can accidentally squish him because they used to much strength or smth. And suddenly some supernaturals are scared of him? They fear him because of what? His paranoia, his contingencies? Nah that should be a warning cause logically and I mean logically can u tell me straight in my face that u trust this man while knowing he stalks you 30/7, goes through Ur personally stuff without permission btw, breaks in your house when u were at a wrong time, wrong place?? Have either his kids pretend y'all are buddies or your lover just to keep u on a leash?.

And if we are going to do the Lazarus Pits is ectoplasm, then the bats are done for especially Jason. Cause I can tell once the ghost found out the league agreed to the acts be lawful they won't help, cause why help the ones that tried to eradicate them?(how u may ask? Well it's simple, some soon to be fading corrupted ghost escaped when the portal first opened causing massive damage, some deaths etc and maybe the other reason maybe the citizens first cause of the negatives in the show, public enemy number 1 so forth). So the league after failing formed the GIW and soon left Amity thinking the people will be 'safe')

One note, would it be funny if the League of Shadows find out about the Acts and Lazarus pit being ectoplasm and just had straight to Amity for protection and probably swear loyalties to the ghost zone since the be liminal asf lonly to be stopped by Maddie and after some good ol' fashion Fenton style shenanigans, Maddie is either adopted to be the new Demon head or is the demon head??

So yeah that's what came to mind, so tell me what u think.

[triocat]

Here's a funny idea that's been swimming in my head:

AU of "Control Of Mind And Body" (somewhat more of an joke/neutral ending, really) where 02, for some (probably contrived)* reason, ends up becoming Tiffumu, not JUST in body but ALSO in mind (PunMostCertainlyIntended) like in some sort "Superior Spiderman"-like fashion (if you don't know who that is, look it up, I'm certain he's too obscure for most to know at a glance so don't worry about it)

TL;DR Tiff's subconscious mind uno reverses on 02 and causes them to have an identity crisis, to which Kirby helps them get through

(For clarification, "02" reefers to his internal thought process and "Tiff" would be what they say)

At first, 02 is a bit confused about how they were starting to act a bit too "in-character" and began to become distracted by activities Tiffumu would do on the reg (ex. 02:"Hmm... so if I'm supposed to be a bookworm then I should probably be at the library, I mean, it's not like I would be spending much time there anyways..." 2 hours later... Tuff:"Hey, sis, I'm bored, when are we leaving-" "Tiff":"Not now, Tuff, I'm just finishing up this one..." 02:"It's not even been that long, anyways-" Tuff: "...But it's been 2 hours" 02:"Ok, so...wait...did he say 2 hours...I THOUGHT I JUST SPENT UNDER 15 MINUTES")

Then, the 1st signs that there's truly something wrong start to set in as they find that their thought patterns were starting to shift into something more so resembling tiff's than they would like** (ex. 02: "I hate the beach... the blasted sun's way brighter here than anywhere else, the sand here is so loosely packed, anything you build with it just highlights the pointlessness of it all, and the only other stuff is swimming in the cold water under said sun and collect dumb seashells-" spots white and red seashell 02:"...Hey, actually, this one's not half bad... you know, maybe this place isn't as terrible as I assumed... I mean, the cool wind, the sound of the waves, the feeling of the sun on my face- ...wait...but I HATE the sun... I mean, it's only natural that a being of the dark such as myself would hate what's essentially a giant lamp, right? Right, so pull yourself together 02... this seashell here is the only good thing that came out of this damn beach... other than that death-defying opportunity, of course)

THEN, things start taking a turn when they start to act a lot more like tiff then they would like, to the point where the mask starts to slip a bit as they more open to their new family (Memu:"So how was your day, sweetie" "Tiff":"Oh, it was ok I guess... Speaking of which, I found this interesting seashell that I want to show you" "Tiff" shows the seashell Papu:"Oh, what about it caught your eye" "Tiff":"I guess it's just because it reminds me of myself in a way" Memu:"Oh, and how so" "Tiff":"Well, you see, I...um...you know what, I'll talk to you about it later, ok? For now, I'm tuckered out so I'll just be going to bed." Papu:"Oh, alright then. Goodnight, sweetie")

Finally, 02 starts to be so much like Tiff that they start to doubt their own identity and start to confuse themselves with Tiff, causing her to spiral (02:"That was a close one. Whatever that seashell triggered within me, it wasn't good. *sigh* Nice going, Tiff, you almost told mom and dad that you're actually- ...wait...'Tiff'? 'mom and dad '? *Frustrated groan* Get a grip, 02, you're an angel of death. And these ignorant fleshbags mean NOTHING to you. You're immortal. You're the leader of the dark matter clan. You've survived against your own Kirby. You've even defeated Holy NightMare Enterprises. You- ...Hold up. I didn't destroy them. Hell, Tiff didn't either. Kirby did. And besides, this version of Kirby isn't like the one back at Dark Star. They're just a small, meek, innocent, little baby who only thinks about spitting on his toys, hugging trees, eating watermelon, and just being a jolly pink ball-shaped child who can do no wrong- HEY, WAIT A MINUTE! Oy vey, tiff- er, 02, you're must be really going insane if you're starting to doubt that that wad of gum's very existence isn't sinful in it of itself, and besides, 'tree-hugging'? THAT'S the best you can come up with? That's not even a bad thing, really. Especially with all the trouble Dedede, HNME, and I gave Whispy Woods. Wonder if he's doing ok? n-NOT THAT I CARE OR ANYTHING. I'm not a environmentalist. I mean, Tiff clearly was, but she also collected seashells and read books excessively and I don't do those either... except that time when I spent 2 hours in the library. Honestly, a pair of hours well spent but- er...NO THEY WEREN'T! Girl, you wasted time reading books all day. Especially on that one about a princess kissing a dumb frog to turn it into an even dumber prince. He probably wasn't even as handsome as commander Vee was...wait...who's vee...and why does thinking about him make me flustered. *Internal groan* alright already, knock it off with the confusion, Tiff-er, 02... wait, was I talking to Tiff there, or myself. I mean, it's clear to me that I'm not Tiff. I just look like Tiff, sound like Tiff, speak like Tiff, act like Tiff, and sometimes even THINK like Tiff, but I AM NOT TIFF. I'm just possessing her body and PRETENDING to be her to the point that I'm apparently getting way too comfy in this form and am now starting to mix myself with her. WE ARE NOT THE SAME ENTITY IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM. In fact, I think this lamp here is the source of all my woes. All I need to do is turn it off and all these conflicting thoughts will dissipate into the darkness's embrace soon enough." 02 turns off the light 02:"... That's better. Now then, Tiff, this will remind you where your place truly is. Your Dreamland will be mine and nothing you nor your Kirby can do to stop me and my children. ...wait, children? Well, I mean, I guess they kind of are my children, in a sense. Honestly, if I was more like Tiff, they probably wouldn't even hurt a fly unless it was on the end of a fish hook, unlike this world's Dedede's pet octopus, heh heh. ...wait...How'd I know that? Well, however I did, it's not like it's gonna matter soon. ...But even then... why is it that I still feel... so conflicted.)

Eventually, she gets so conflicted between who he even is anymore that everyone else starts to take notice as he starts triple-backing on everything she says, probably not even really thinking about some of them

And to make matters worse, not only is she starting to regret everything he has done, not ONLY is everyone starting to catch on that there's something wrong with her, but also the rest of the dark matter clan starting to refer to him as their mother, being more of a reminder to 02 of Tiff's relationship with Kirby

All of this pressure, on this cappy girl/ angel of darkness amalgam, starts wearing them down to the point that that they go into a room, shut the door, and contemplate their options...

1. Bump off Tiff

The child was the one who had her thoughts seep within his. Maybe getting rid of her would return him to normal. And, as a bonus, it would break Kirby's sprit and allow him to feed of the grief of her loved ones...

.....

...But the thought of her family and friends missing her dearly became so utterly repulsive to them, he decided to drop the idea and move to something else.

After all, it was what was stopping her from enacting his plan.

2. Get rid of 02

I mean... it's not like he was doing any favors for anyone. He was a literal A N G E L O F D E A T H so his dematerialization would probably be a net positive. After all, it would certainly be what Tiff would have wanted...

.....

...But then, you see, all of this, the possession, the planning, and the preservation of what remaining dark matter is left would all be for naught.

I mean... the fear of death is what got them this far, was it not.

3. Try to split

This seems like the most logical choice out of the bunch, right? Just split the pair from each other and both will be themselves again and we can all move on from this experience as better people for it. Yep, everything would be just Hunky Dory...

.....

...but then they realized something.

If 02 returns back to how he was, then either he ruins everything, Kirby kills him for good, or he just goes to another timeline, either repeating the process and/or just ending up experiencing the other two outcomes.

The only way he would keep his empathy for life outside of the dark matter clan would be, theoretically, taking Tiff's heart with him, and even then, that would likely result in her dying or becoming a miserable husk

And THEN there's an even worse thought, one that completely wipes this idea from their mind:

What if it doesn't work?

What if instead of separating correctly, it ends up screwing both of them over, to the point where neither of them survive...

.....

...welp, it would seem that our final exit turned out to be a bust

...But just as they were about to resign to their fate, the door opened and...

It was Kirby

Of course, 02, despite knowing he likely wasn't here to do so (well at first), would accuse Kirby of mocking them whist they're at their lowest point...

...but to their surprise, Kirby seems to be genuinely concerned for them***

("Tiff":"Wh-who's there!?" Kirby:"...Fumu?" "Tiff":"Oh... it's you... Here to rub salt in the wound, I suppose..." Kirby walks up to her and "poyo"s at her with a concerned look on his face "Tiff":"...why...why do you torment me like this...why is it that all my plans fall flat the moment you come into the picture..." Kirby:"Poyo?" "Tiff":"...is that really all you can say..." Kirby thinks about what she said and comes up with the first thing that comes to his head Kirby:"Suika!" "Tiff":"...Melon...? That's the first thing that comes to mind? ...FOOD..." Kirby:"poy-yay!" "Tiff":"...heheh...you really are here to mock me..." Kirby:"poy...yo?" 02 grabs Kirby and picks him up as she becomes furious "Tiff":"DO YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY!? IS THIS ALL ONE GIANT GAME TO YOU!? ANSWER ME!!!" Kirby:"p...poy-y-yo..." 02 starts sniffling as she fully breaks down "Tiff":"...heh...heh...look at me...*hic*...yelling at a ch-hild...how pathetic..." 02 lets go of Kirby out of sorrow, who proceeds to leave the room and come back with some watermelon Kirby:"Suika!" "Tiff":"...is this...for me..." Kirby:"Zee-ru tif" 02 starts to bawl in tears "Tiff":"Thank you, Kirby...I love you, Kirby...I'm so sorry for everything I did... I'm sorry... I'm sorry i'm sorry..." "0!Tiff", who hasn't slept well in days, collapses in exhaustion as Kirby carries her to her bed...)

Tiff wakes up in her bed, surrounded by her family, with worried looks on their faces. She reassures them that she's ok, saying that she was possessed by a stray demon beast that Kirby beat up, as always.

With that, (and an interuption by a certain king penguin and gay snail,) she send her parents off, telling tuff to say here to make sure she's ok...

...to which, she explains e v e r y t h i n g, essentially telling tuff all there needs to about how she's an entity known as 02 and how she planned to cover the world in darkness, but said plans went down the drain as soon as she started to become Tiff in mind as well as in body. (*roll credits*)

Oddly enough, Tuff was fine with this, his reasoning being that, "Well, you look like Tiff, you sound like Tiff, you speak like Tiff, you behave like Tiff, and now you even think like Tiff, so, for all intensive purposes, you kinda are Tiff now, just a bit different"

02 then decided that, if she was gonna be Tiff, then by void, she's gonna be a better Tiff than before.

But before she can do that, she needs a more fitting name (don't wanna cause more confusion after all of that) to which Kirby repeated his name for her:"Zee-ru tif"

To which, Tuff read as 0!Tiff, saying that it was a fitting name for her.

02/Tiff responded by saying "That's a dumb name, but we can't really think of anything else at the moment so sure, why not"

And thus solidified the legacy of 0!Tiff:

EMPRESS OF THE HYPERZONE

* TBH I don't know exactly know what could cause this to happen, maybe 02 possessed her for too long and queen ripple's possession just didn't last that long, maybe tiff connection with Kirby had something to do with it (Personally, I had an idea with a "soul surgeon"), but whatever the case may be, this is more about the effect rather than the exact cause. I mean, you can probably think of something less contrived, but on this front, I'm stumped.

**It may be even in subtle ways 02 wouldn't quite notice like how Tiff's obsession with princess stories would end up having them decide to refer to themselves as "the princess of the hyperzone" before going with the title of empress instead, not knowing that that was also influenced by Tiff's state of mind.

***I imagine that Kirby would be slightly suspicious of tiff's true nature due to their special connection, but let's be honest, when your best friend having a meltdown, it's still best to check on them, whether they're possessed or not.

[1d1195]

Neighbors Extra IV - Merry Christmas

Read Neighbors here

I wanted to write something for the holidays and they seemed like a worthy couple to do so. I will get back to Dolcezza over the next few days and I'm sorry my posting schedule is off now. I will get that back on track too.

Warnings: fluff, cuteness, Christmassy nonsense (maybe a little angst if you read it the right way)

This isn't super proofread. I'm not sure how my timeline is matching up with the rest of the story but this is their first Xmas together as a couple. Probably before the other Extras I've written but I'm not sure time is really relevant.

~3.1k words

Surely everyone in her life showered Rory with presents. He hoped that her family spoiled her just as much.

But he had a sneaking suspicion that wasn’t the case.

“I hope Santa gets everything on my list,” Rory giggled. Harry watched as the wonderful woman helped Rory write out his list. She wrote out each item carefully, committing it to memory. He signed his name in his large six-year-old print. Once the list was decorated with stickers and glitter (and an extra drawing of the North Pole was slipped in the envelope), she stole a picture of it for her own use and memories. The three of them headed to the store to put the envelope in the North Pole mailbox and get some shopping done.

Harry smiled lazily. This was better than any Christmas he could imagine with his little family—and it had hardly started. He gazed longingly at the love of his life as she meandered down the aisles getting presents for her family, Harry’s family, coworkers, and anyone else she could think of before she would have to find a time to get all those items on Rory’s list. “Think y’ve been pretty good, lad,” Harry smiled. “Don’t you?”

He nodded. “I’ve eaten all my vegetables this year. Even the gross ones,” he wrinkled his nose distastefully. It was the same way she did it which made his heart flutter at the sight. Rory was so much like his mum it hurt in the best way.

Harry chuckled. “Mummy and I appreciate that. S’good for you,” he reminded him.

“Can you help me get Mumma a present?” Rory whispered. He wasn’t very good at it. She turned a bit toward the sound of his little voice ever so slightly. A smirk on her face that Harry didn’t miss. He ignored her attention so he could focus on Rory’s inquiry with hope that maybe the pair of them could surprise her.

As usual, she was very smart and did a lot of her Christmas shopping early in the season—almost as soon as the decorations for Halloween came down, she was out at the store buying gifts.

“Course, lad. What do y’want t’get her?”

“A racecar. So she can play with me,” he explained. It wasn’t a question in Rory’s mind. It was the most obvious choice of gift.

Harry chuckled. “I see. Do y’think Mummy has asked Santa for something else we could get her? Something a little more girly?”

By now she had rounded the corner to the next aisle. Harry and Rory had veered off to look at the racecars. “Mumma doesn’t get presents from Santa,” he shrugged heading to the section of toys that he deemed worthy of Mummy.

Harry frowned at how readily that came from Rory. “Oh? She on the naughty list?” He joked. But he would tease her about that later when they fell asleep. Right as they fell asleep.

Rory giggled. “Mumma isn’t naughty, Harry,” he rolled his eyes.

No. She wasn’t. She was the furthest thing from it. She was perfect. An angel. It was...the best thing that had ever happened to Harry—moving in across the street from someone so lovely. “Then how come she doesn’t get any gifts from Santa?” He was joking of course. Surely there would be a little white lie of how Santa left them at the North Pole or there was a promise of next year there would be double the amount for Mumma.

But he hadn’t anticipated Rory’s response. “Mumma said that she called Santa when I was born. She doesn’t want presents so I can have more. Mumma says that even his magic sleigh has a weight limit.”

Harry thought his heart might break. This was the third Christmas that Rory probably understood. His developmental psychology classes told him that age four is usually when kids start to get the gist of what Christmas is like for them. That meant for the time that they knew one another, she hadn’t gotten Christmas gifts from “Santa.”

It shouldn’t have been such a surprise to him. What else was she supposed to say to Rory? There wasn’t anyone to balance the gifts out so that she had something to open while Rory got new toys and clothes. Harry tried to think of what he got her over the last couple years. It wasn’t anything special because he couldn’t remember.

She was selfless, of course. Especially for Rory. It honestly made him fall more in love with her. Made him want to cry something awful as well. Harry wondered if she minded. Surely everyone in her life showered Rory with presents. He hoped that her family spoiled her just as much.

But he had a sneaking suspicion that wasn’t the case.

“Boys, are we ready to go get some hot chocolate and start decorating?” She called.

Rory quickly handed over the racecar he wanted to get her and pushed it behind Harry’s legs where he could reach to hide it from Mumma. The pair of them smiled like they had just stolen a cookie from the kitchen after she said no. She smirked and met Harry’s gaze with a twinkle in her eyes, herself. “Yes, Mumma,” Rory said hurried to her side. He turned and put a finger to his lips toward Harry. So, he would keep the present a secret. He winked at the little one and caught her gaze once more so he could wink at her too. With a shake of her head, she turned her attention forward toward the checkout.

*

Don’t forget to invite Gemma and your Mum, please.

Harry smiled at his message as he and Gemma walked the aisles of the beauty store. Harry wanted to get her everything her heart desired and more, but wanted to make sure it was right—that required reinforcements.

“Does she use a face roller?”

“A what?”

“Jesus Christ, Harry,” she sighed in exasperation. She threw one in the basket.

“I don’t know, Gem. I don’t think she has a skincare routine. She’s usually making sure Rory gets a bath and goes t’bed.”

Gemma didn’t like that response. “Then we’re going to get her a spa day too after this,” she explained. “And you need to make sure she takes some time to herself every night,” she said knowingly. Harry nodded. He didn’t care about how many stores they were going to. He wanted this to be the Christmas of her dreams and more. He would get her anything and everything. Cost wasn’t a problem. And he was going to make sure she spent an hour to herself every night for the rest of their lives. “Does she ever complain of dry skin? Or that she looks oily?”

“No...” he shrugged again. Maybe he wasn’t paying as close attention as he thought he was to her self-care.

“Does she ever do anything for herself, Harry? Or do you just let her do everything?”

“Gemma. She is a selfless person. S’impossible t’do anything for her,” he resented the idea that he wasn’t doing a good job as her boyfriend. But Gemma wasn’t wrong. It sounded like he was doing a bad job.

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” she nodded in agreement. “Mum is getting her all sorts of clothes for us to split up and give to her,” she tossed three different serums into the little basket. “She wears makeup, right?”

Harry never thought she needed it, but he couldn’t help but be hypnotized by the way she glided the various liquids and powders over her face each morning. She did it quickly—with a six-year-old everything had to be done quickly. But it was like watching an artist as she put stuff on her face and turned even more beautiful than she was without it.

“Yes,” he said confidently feeling like he finally was contributing to this whole escapade.

“Does her stuff look old? Has she ever said anything about getting new makeup?”

He thought about all the brushes and tubes she used each morning. Harry thought all of them looked on the older side. “What’s the one y’dot on y’face? Under y’eyes?”

“Concealer.”

“She said they discontinued the brand, so she keeps putting water in hers.”

“Jesus Christ, that’s sad,” Gemma remarked. “Alright, I’ll get her the kind I liked. She can always return it. Give me your phone.”

Harry handed it over immediately. Gemma examined the picture of the pair of them in his background. A selfie from the symphony. Harry felt himself warm at the sight of her even on his own screen that he looked at no less than thirty times a day. While Gemma did her best to match her skin tone, Harry simply admired how pretty she looked and how even just her picture made him feel an overwhelming amount of love for his little life.

“It’s hard to tell in pictures, but she’s tanner than I am; lucky bitch,” Gemma grumbled. Harry smirked.

“Do you want anything for Christmas?” He asked his sister.

Gemma snorted. “She’s already way ahead of you, Harry,” Gemma smiled. “You’re about a month too late.”

He chuckled shyly. “Sorry, Gem.”

“It’s okay. It’s... really nice you have someone so thoughtful. As thoughtful as you. Maybe even more so just because she does it so early. But... I wouldn’t want you to be with someone less thoughtful. So it’s nice.” Harry agreed fully and smiled even brighter knowing that his sister loved his choice in love as much as he did. “Alright. We’re meeting Mum for lunch and then we are going to the home goods store for stuff she might need around the house... what are you doing about her stocking?”

“Doesn’t some of this stuff go in there?”

“Yeah... but like... you could get her jewelry or something.”

Harry nodded. “Okay... I’ll do that on my own.”

“Harry,” Gemma smiled at her little brother—even though he was a good seven inches taller. “You’re doing great. This is...” she sighed happily. “She’s going to love it.”

Harry felt a sense of pride wash over him even though his cheeks warmed at the praise. He really hoped she would.

*

“Harry?” She whispered in the middle of the night. They had spent an hour setting up Rory’s new roller coaster track after she finished wrapping a few last-minute gifts and pulling the presents from various hiding places—the shed in the backyard, the back of her car, and of course across the street at Harry’s house that had hardly seen anything else Christmas related since he spent all his time with her and Rory.

“Jus’ getting some water, kitten. Go back t’sleep,” he leaned down to kiss her forehead. She didn’t need to be told twice. Her light snores started almost instantly, which boded well for Harry. All her presents were in the back of his car. The transfer had been done late in the day by Gemma while the three of them went to the Christmas Eve fair put on by the local high school. They drank more hot chocolate than Rory could dream about. She worried the sugar would keep him up and prevent them from putting the presents under the tree.

Harry found Rory at the top of the stairs. A ribbon and sign across the way telling Rory not to go down without Mumma and Harry. He was asleep on the floor. A pillow from his room and covered with the blanket she and Rory made one rainy afternoon in November. She helped cut all the little ends while he did his best to tie them together.

Harry smirked and lifted Rory from the floor to bring him back to his bed. “Harry?” Rory murmured.

“Hmm?” He hummed.

“Did Santa come?” He yawned.

“Santa won’t come if y’aren’t in y’bed, lad,” he reminded him.

“I wanted to ask him to give Mumma some of my presents,” he muttered sleepily.

Harry felt his heart warm. “I’ll go write him a note,” he placed Rory on his little mattress, tucked him in, kissed his forehead, and ruffled his hair. “Don’t get out of bed, till morning, Rory. Or Santa won’t come,” he reminded him.

But Rory was already asleep.

*

“Mumma!” Rory’s little voice gasped. Harry’s eyes fluttered open to meet her sleeping figure. Her lips parted as she breathed. Harry reached out and put a hand on her face.

“Hey, beautiful,” Harry whispered and inched forward to place a kiss on her forehead. “S’time t’get up,” he murmured. “Merry Christmas,” he leaned closer to kiss the shell of her ear as he spoke softly to her. Meanwhile, Harry could hear Rory bouncing up and down the little hallway between their rooms and the stairs chanting that it was Christmas and Santa came.

Her lashes fluttered as she woke up, meeting Harry’s beautiful green eyes. “Harry, Santa came!”

He winked at her as she rubbed her eye tiredly. “Yeah, lad?” He smiled at the excitement. “Y’didn’t go down, did you?”

“No way, Jose!”

Harry chuckled. “D’you want t’come give Mummy a Christmas hug?” He asked.

There was a shift in weight on the bed as Rory’s little body flung himself in between the pair of them. “Merry Christmas Mumma,” he giggled and snuggled up to her. She smiled, burying her face in his hair, and squeezing him to her.

“Merry Christmas, love bug,” she sighed sleepily but very content.

“Can we go downstairs?” He was trying to wriggle free.

“I have to brush my teeth and we’ll go right down,” she promised and threw the covers back. “Maybe you should give Harry a Christmas tickle,” she suggested as she left the bed and Rory took her word and tickled Harry well enough to make him squirm and giggle himself.

“You’ll pay for that,” he kissed the side of her face as she exited the bathroom so Harry could brush his teeth too.

Rory was now bouncing with excitement, and she smiled sitting back on the bed while they waited for Harry. “What do you think Santa brought you?” She asked.

“I hope he brought me the roller coaster,” he crossed his fingers on both hands to show her and she mimicked the gesture while Harry returned as quickly as possible.

“Alrighty, I think we can go down now,” she smiled.

Harry grinned and followed behind the two of them. Rory was squealing and laughing as he reached the bottom of the stairs before they did. He hurried to the rollercoaster set and sent the little cart flying down the track while she tilted her head at the pile of presents that seemed to increase in size by at least a half.

“Did you get him more?” She muttered under her breath.

“Mumma!” Rory shouted. “Harry wrote Santa a note for me last night! Santa brought you some presents this year.”

She seemed to freeze in place and Harry put a hand on her lower back. “C’mon, kitten. S’Christmas,” he kissed the top of her head and nudged her toward the sofa so she could sit.

“H-he did, huh?” She looked overwhelmed at the pile of neatly wrapped presents with her name on them. Most were labeled from Santa. A few from Harry and one from Rory—the racecar of course.

“We start with the stockings,” Rory explained to Harry grabbing the one with an H on it and handing it to him. It was filled with little trinkets and items that she painstakingly tied with ribbons and candies that he would undoubtedly end up sharing with Rory until their stomachs hurt.

“Oh...I had a chat with Santa last night,” he recalled sitting beside the poor thing that was struggling to make sense of all the items under their overly decorated tree. “Santa agreed that I could do Mummy’s stocking from now on,” he told Rory.

“Mumma, Harry knows Santa too!” The poor thing was having a meltdown on the inside of her mind. It was clear on her face as she tried to factor in the price of all the presents that were tied nicely with bows and ribbons. Rory handed off her stocking as well and was lucky she didn’t drop it immediately. Lucky that Harry was sitting right beside her to hold it while he placed his beside him. Rory sat himself on the floor with the stocking between his legs. “Can I start?”

She was mute it seemed as she examined all the little items poking out of the top of the oversize sock. “Go ahead, lad,” Harry encouraged and squeezed her thigh. “You too, kitten,” he murmured into her ear.

“You...” she whispered breathlessly, cleared her throat and Harry saw the well of tears filling her eyes. “Santa brought me a lot of stuff,” she murmured while Rory oohed and ahhed over the little things filling his stocking.

“He told me that y’never have t’sacrifice Christmas on behalf of Rory anymore. That was really nice of you t’do it the last few years. But...he wants you t’get whatever y’ever want,” he cupped her cheek while Rory ripped open his bag of M&Ms spilling tens of them across the floor with a little scattering that she ignored because Harry was gazing at her like she was the most special thing on the planet.

Harry really, truly believed she was.

“Yeah?” She smiled, but her eyes were so watery it made him melt.

“Very much so,” he leaned forward and swept his lips across hers briefly so as not to get Rory’s attention to their yucky kissing. “Merry Christmas, m’love.”

“Merry Christmas, Harry,” she leaned toward him, resting against his chest. His arm draped over her while they watched Rory stuff a mouthful of M&Ms between his lips. They continued watching him open each and every present that was selflessly ticked off his list.

“This is the best Christmas ever,” Rory smiled excitedly.

“I think so too, love bug,” she giggled at him.

“Absolutely,” Harry agreed.

“How about a picture, Rory?” She asked grabbing her phone out of the pocket of her leggings. “C’mere,” she handed her phone to Harry and opened her arms for Rory to hop into her embrace. Rory situated himself half on her lap and half on Harry’s. She squeezed closer to Harry while he hold the phone out for a selfie. Rory held his little jar of slime out for the picture and Harry grinned into the camera as she rested her hand on Harry’s leg around Rory’s little body as best she could. “Alright one more,” Harry smirked and leaned toward her to steal a kiss that caused Rory’s face to wrinkle in distaste forever savoring the perfect moment on film.

A Christmas for the history books, for certain.

At least their history books.

--

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[ofduskanddreams]

Pierce The Clouds

for @elucienweekofficial day 2: magic

A/N: I say this is "from the vault" because it's based on part of an old (no longer public) fic that I plan to rewrite if I ever have the time. I wasn't planning on posting anything today, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head so here we are :)

READ ON AO3 | RATED: E | CANON-TYPICAL VIOLENCE | 8.3k WORDS

When Lucien encounters trouble in the mortal lands, the bond draws Elain's shuttered power to the surface. Everyone knows that getting between a Fae and their injured mate is a death wish, but no one, not even Elain, knows just how far her magic is willing to go.

Lucien

He winnowed directly from the entrance of the Hewn City into his apartment in Velaris. He kicked off his shoes and fell back onto his bed, ignoring the slight cloud of dust that puffed up from the duvet on impact. 

Two minutes, he told himself. Two minutes to close his eyes and soak in the blissful silence.

Lucien didn’t want to think about that meeting, it all made him too uneasy. Eris had mentioned nothing about a plan to kill Beron, he’d simply thanked Rhys again for hosting him for Winter Solstice again and made a snide comment about how unfortunate it was that Cassian—“that Illyrian brute” as Eris called him—didn’t let him within twenty feet of Nesta this year. 

Rhys, looking as bored as ever, had signed his approval on a trade agreement between the Nightmares and Eris’s territory in Autumn: ore for agricultural products. Lucien and Rhys spoke mind-to-mind about how it was suspiciously mutually beneficial, but on paper, he could make no objections.

Dealing with Eris always left him unsettled, and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Growing up with his brothers, it was second nature to expect every good deed to have an equally bad counterpart. But with Eris, the shoe hadn’t dropped. Yet. That was the most unnerving thing, what would be the cost of centuries of Eris’s so-called generosity towards him?

With a groan, Lucien forced himself to get up and change. He grabbed the second bag in the line of pre-packed leather duffels lining the wall near the door. It was a system he had developed while working as Tamlin’s emissary. A bag of necessities and appropriate clothing for each of Prythian’s courts, spelled with simple enchantments to keep everything fresh and wrinkle-free. The bag in his hand, for the human lands, was newer than the others yet still worn and marked by a small white leather tag.

Rhys had suggested that Lucien take Eris’s news that all was quiet with Beron and Koschei to Vassa sooner rather than later. The knowing look in Rhys’s eyes made it clear he was offering Lucien an out from family dinner should he want it. 

With a wave of his hand, Lucien put out the fire in his fireplace and winnowed to the woods outside the wards he’d placed on Vassa’s manor. The near evening light lacked any sparkle as it filtered through the dull green canopy above him. He was grateful to Rhys; he didn’t want to think about trying to face Elain right now, unsettled as he was. It was hard enough to play that politely distanced courtier for her on a good day. 

Lucien was a patient male, he prided himself on his self-control but even he had his limits. Elain wasn’t happy. He felt it through their dulled bond, and his instincts screamed at him to do something about it but he couldn’t. Being around her made it even more obvious and equally more difficult to ignore. Elain acted like she was happy, and was probably unaware that he knew her true feelings. It wasn’t his place to say anything so he’d been distancing himself. It seemed to be what she wanted.

Lucien walked through the manor’s gates and immediately came face-to-face with a flustered Jurian.

Jurian braced a hand on his shoulder as he caught his breath. “Impeccable…timing,” Jurian wheezed.

Lucien’s metal eye whirred in its socket, examining. The wards were fine. Nothing was on fire. There were no screams or clashing blades ringing through the air.

“What’s wrong?” he asked Jurian.

“I was just about to send for you,” Jurian began, leading him towards the manor doors. “A few minutes ago, I had a runner come saying that there was a fight on the border. Apparently some of Nolan’s men got into it with a unit of your Prythian Guard.”

“Fuck,” Lucien exhaled, dread simmering in his veins. “Any injuries? Casualties?”

Jurian shook his head as they entered the manor hall. “The poor kid only said one injury before passing out on my office floor.”

“We don’t know if they were human or Fae?” Lucien inquired, dropping his bag and taking out the spare dagger he kept there. He sheathed it next to the short sword he always carried on his right hip.

“No,” Jurian sighed. “Since it could be either, I think it’s best if we both go.”

Lucien nodded in grim agreement.

It took them half an hour’s hard riding to reach the second garrison of the Prythian Guard. The Guard had been one of Lucien’s better ideas, endorsed by Rhys to address Tamlin’s non-existent border security. It was a peacekeeping force made up of Fae representing every court to monitor the border where the wall once stood.

It would have been easy for Lucien to winnow himself and Jurian, but riding in alongside the former human general sent a better message in this situation that and outcomes, could easily escalate into a greater conflict. Riding was also a thrill Lucien had enjoyed for as long as he could remember. He didn’t understand why most High Fae avoided it.

The sun was setting when Lucien dismounted at the wooden gate and nodded to Jurian. He would continue on to Nolan’s outpost and figure out what he could. With both sides of the story, maybe the two of them could piece together what actually happened.

The guard standing watch—Winter Court if his fair hair, skin, and frosty eyes were a sign—opened the gate for Lucien with a deferential nod.

“They’re all in the main hall,” he said, taking the reins from Lucien.

As he crossed the dirt courtyard, Lucien tried his best not to jump to morbid conclusions. The likelihood of this sparking another human-fae war was slim. If he was being honest, he’d poured so much of himself into maintaining peace since the war with Hybern ended that any breach of it felt like a personal attack. He was glad that his magic was still drained from all the winnowing he’d done in the last day and a half. If it hadn’t been, sparks would fly from his fingertips.

The sight that met Lucien in the chamber was far from encouraging. The assembled grave-faced guards stepped aside in a wave of pewter gray to reveal a male laying on a table. For a sickening heartbeat the male’s golden hair looked like Tamlin’s, but as Lucien stepped closer, he saw gray hairs mingled with gold and speckled with blood.

Lucien had to grip the table to keep from falling to his knees, because the male taking wet, ragged breaths was Valin.

“Lucien,” a voice addressed him. 

Lucien looked up from the table to find Bron, one of Tamlin’s former sentries standing beside him, the crest of a commander on his gray uniform.

“What happened?” Lucien seethed behind gritted teeth.

“Valin had his unit on their regular patrol when they came across a bunch of Nolan’s men, drunk. They were aggressive, trying to cross the border and hoping for revenge from the sound of it. The unit followed protocol and was working to disarm the group with minimal injury when Valin took a scatter-ash arrow to the chest. Under Valin’s orders, they didn’t retaliate and half of them escorted Nolan’s men back to their outpost while the rest brough Valin here.”

“I should have known the prospect of ordering people around would have drawn Valin out of retirement.” Lucien and Bron exchanged sad smiles. Valin was Andras’s older brother, had been the captain of Tamlin’s sentries since his father had ruled Spring. He retired a few decades after Lucien arrived in the court, to start a family when he found his mate. But they’d stayed friends, Lucien had visited often and written when he couldn’t.

“Talia should be here soon, I sent a winnower to her as soon as I saw him,” Bron spoke quietly.

“He won’t make it?”

Bron closed his eyes and shook his head. “Scatter-ash, it’s Nolan’s latest invention. The arrow heads and lower shafts are made of ash chips somehow melded together so they break into pieces if the arrow hits bone or is removed.”

Lucien’s elbows hit the table as he rested his head in his hands. The sound of running footsteps made him snap upright, just in time to see Talia burst through the doors. She froze, nostrils flaring as she scented her mate’s blood.

“Everybody back to your posts,” Lucien ordered softly, and the room cleared save for himself, Talia and Bron.

In the blink of an eye, Talia was standing beside her mate clutching his hand to her chest. Her translucent wings shivered as tears fell silently down her face.

The room was quiet, save for Valin’s jagged breaths that were slowing by the minute. Lucien and Bron stood together in mute vigil for their fallen friend and mentor as the sun sank beneath the horizon, coloring the room a somber shadow-blue. Lucien would never forget the moment Valin’s heart stopped and his soul crossed the Veil. Talia froze before she began shaking. Then she fell to her knees, hands clasped over her heart and screamed.

That scream of unearthly sorrow and rage and grief hit Lucien like a serrated blade to the gut. He saw Bron stagger as well under the weight of Talia’s pain as half of her soul was ripped out and cast to the void. Lucien had only read about what could happen following the death of one’s mate. He couldn’t stop himself from picturing Elain on that table, dead. The thought of that golden light in his chest winking out threatened the stability of Lucien’s knees.

The wail turned to a choked-off sob. He wished he could go to her, but there was no comfort he could give that would ease the force of her grief. Eventually the sobbing stopped and Talia slowly turned to them.

“Who?” she growled, rage blazing in her eyes.

“Talia, an off-duty human guard shot him,” Lucien spoke carefully with his hands outstretched, palms up in a gesture of peace. “I will meet with Lord Nolan in the morning and demand he turn over the man responsible. His judgment will be yours to give.”

Lucien looked to the side at Bron who gave an imperceptible nod before he stepped forward slowly. 

Bron approached her as one might a spooked horse. All Fae knew there were few things as dangerous as a mate seeking retribution—instinct could spark a bloodlust in the most peaceful of souls. Once Lucien felt relatively sure that Talia would allow Bron to help her prepare her mate’s body for the pyre without killing him, he slipped out of the room and down a narrow hall to the guest officer’s quarters. 

He wasn’t able to shake the smothering, bone-rending sadness he felt. He couldn’t bear the thought of what Talia must be going through; couldn’t stop his mind from reliving the night Jesminda’s life was stolen by his folly.

Lucien collapsed onto the small bed in the dark, cold room. He couldn’t staunch that gut-wrenching grief he’d buried so deep. He closed his eyes but immediately saw the light leaving Jes’s walnut eyes. When he heard the wet slice of a blade meeting bone, of her head hitting the stone, Lucien’s eyes flew open. He was drowning in grief too long ignored.

He jolted when there was a sharp tug behind his ribs, hard enough that his breath hitched.

Then there was a bright warmth blooming. 

Lucien sat up, but no—he hadn’t accidentally started a fire. It happened rarely, when the nightmares were at their worst and he would wake to the acrid scent of burning fabrics.

An image of small hands buried in a white mane flying flashed in front of his mind's eye.

And then he was a youngling hiding in the kitchens while his mother baked apple crumble and he stole as many bites as he could.

Lucien lay back and let his head hit the pillow as he was surrounded by the colors of autumn, shrouded in a blanket of sunset and he felt peace.

It was Elain; he realized with no small amount of wonder. Elain must have sensed him. 

All the hollow sadness was suddenly filled with a nervous amount of hope dashed with embarrassment. He was careful to keep his emotions to himself, had never slipped up like this before. Cauldron, she must have felt everything. The hope was a soft glow, Elain had never touched their bond before.

Jurian met him at the Garrison at dawn. From what he heard at Nolan’s outpost, it was exactly as Bron described. Nolan’s men claimed the fault lay with the Fae, but Jurian believed the guard had done everything by the parameters of the treaty.

Jurian agreed with Lucien’s plan to deliver Valin’s assailant to Talia. Then again, Jurian was one of the few humans with firsthand experience of what mates were capable of when truly motivated.

Lucien didn’t waste time setting out for the Nolan’s manor, assured that Jurian would inform Vassa of everything that had occurred. His magic was still somewhat drained so Lucien opted to ride again.

Recalling the memory from the previous night, Lucien smiled to himself. If Elain enjoyed riding, maybe he could ask her to accompany him some time. 

Lucien dismounted when the manor’s gates were in sight, leaving the horse to graze on dew-dampened grass. He’d only come to Nolan’s manor on foot before, better to lessen the chances of aggravating anyone. The guards posted on the gate were two Lucien didn’t recognize. He stopped some twenty paces back, their loaded crossbows trained on him. 

“Stay right where you are, Fae filth,” the shorter of the two guards called out. “Your kind isn’t welcome here.”

Lucien held both of his hands up, showing that he would make no move for his weapon.

“My name is Lucien Vanserra. I am an emissary, I mean no harm.” He choked on his family name but that was how the humans did it and he was here for the sake of peace. “I’ve been here several times before,” Lucien took a careful step forward. His gaze flicked between the short one and the one whose eyes were wide with fear. “Your commander knows me, he can verify my identity.”

“How do we know this isn’t just some magic trick?” the short one sneered.

Lucien took a calming breath, “I am here under the terms of the treaty between our peoples, that includes not using glamours to deceive you.” He took another careful step forward.

Only to be knocked back by a blinding pain near his heart. His ears rang, but he could hear the cadence of conversation. 

“You idiot. Set the lord’s hounds on him, leave no evidence.”

Then there was a riot of barking. For half a second Lucien found himself back in Eris’s kennels, the hounds greeting him. But these were not those hounds. 

Lucien felt several sets of teeth sink into his limbs. He couldn’t just stay here and die. That wasn’t right. It would hurt her. Elain. 

Elain, the name clanged through him. 

He needed a chance with Elain, with his mate.

Lucien reached deeply for whatever threads of dwindling magic he could grab and threw himself into the darkness, thinking of the first place that sprang into his mind. 

He didn’t remember how he crawled up the steps and through the off-kilter door, but his eyes opened to stare down at the familiar black-and-white checkered marble floors. His eyes closed at the sound of talons clicking against the cracked stone that shifted to familiar footsteps as every thought eddied out of his head and the world bled black.

Tamlin

He scented Lucien long before he saw the male. Tamlin cursed the spark of hope that warmed him at the thought that Lucien might give him another chance. But then he neared the manor and scented Lucien's blood and red stained his vision. He ran.

There was too much blood—the wounds weren’t closing. Cauldron, were those bite marks? Tamlin’s heart was beating too quickly, his hands crimson-slicked as he gently turned Lucien onto his back to reveal the splintered shaft of an ash arrow embedded not a finger’s width from his heart. Tamlin quickly dragged a talon across his ankle; it stung and bled a drop before closing—not a nightmare then.

Fuck.

Tamlin forced himself to breathe. To think. He would lose no one else. There were no healers here anymore. No one was here. So he had to go where healers were. Where there were people who were better for Lucien than he was.

Never again, he told himself. I won’t lose him again.

Tamlin summoned the strength he often tried to forget and, with enough force that the ground rumbled, he spoke from his mind, projecting it far north.

Rhysand. I’m bringing Lucien to you. I mean no harm. He’s dying, he needs a Healer.

Tamlin gathered Lucien into his arms and winnowed. Lucien was the only thing he had left to lose.

Time seemed to slow as the darkness pressed upon him. The first rule of winnowing is to have a clear picture of your destination. Lucien had told him about Velaris before Tamlin had banned him from his court in anger. Centuries before that, lifetimes ago really, the heir of Night and the son of Spring had gotten drunk together. The memory of Rhys’s description was faded but better than nothing, so Tamlin held that image close. 

Another image flashed before him, star-tinged—from Rhysand. A wrought-iron fence before the small yard of a home on a quiet street. 

Then he was there, shoving aside that gate and bounding up the steps. The door opened for him and Tamlin barely noted the towering Illyrian wings he brushed past as he moved to lay Lucien down on the table. A gray-haired female stepped towards Lucien’s prone form and Tamlin bit back a snarl, at the same time the High Lord of Night’s hand came down on his shoulder.

Madja’s our best healer, she’ll do all she can, Rhysand spoke into his mind.

“It's a new kind of ash arrow. It breaks into shards when disturbed,” Tamlin explained, his long unused voice rasping. “He winnowed from the mortal lands to my manor with that much ash in him. I would have said it’s not possible, but he did it.” 

Madja nodded to him and turned back to Lucien. “Sons of fire don’t burn out easily, this one still has a chance.”

Tamlin sagged with relief, then quickly straightened his spine. He’d already let these males see too much of him.

“Here,” Cassian grunted and shoved a glass of whiskey into Tamlin’s faintly trembling hands.

The reality of his situation came into sharp focus as the instinctive drive to protect his closest friend faded. He was in the Night Court. He didn’t exactly ask to come. They had every valid reason to hate him, especially Rhys and Feyre. Cauldron, they were the same reasons he hated himself. He could see Rhysand and Cassian exchanging a look that meant they were mind-speaking. Cassian… Rhysand’s General.

The gears turned. He was a High Lord who winnowed uninvited into another court’s territory. An action any laws of Prythian could construe as an act of war that. Tamlin swallowed the rest of his drink painfully. 

There was only one way to guarantee this didn’t turn that direction. 

So, Tamlin set down his glass and crossed the room to where Rhys stood. Pride be damned, he had already lost everything at this point. Tamlin took a deep breath and placed his right fist over his heart, speaking the ancient words: “I, Tamlin, High Lord of Spring, thank you for offering me aid in my time of need. As payment for this debt I will grant you, Rhysand, High Lord of Night, a boon. Please accept my gratitude.”

Faint clinks made by ash splinters landing in a metal basin punctuated the silence. Tamlin kept his eyes downcast at the red patterned rug until Rhysand held out a tattooed hand.

Tamlin clasped it with his own. 

“I accept,” Rhysand responded, his expression guarded.

A shockwave of magic radiated through Velaris as the bargain inked itself across the High Lords’ wrists, setting the glasses rattling.

Then, the door to the townhouse swung open with such force that the little window in it shattered. 

Elain Archeron burst into the room. Her half-feral eyes stopped on Lucien, then flitted to Tamlin as he stood and turned towards her. Her brown eyes turned to silver as she took in the blood staining Tamlin’s clothes. 

Her rage was an aura shimmering at the edges of her. She winnowed across the room in a blink, appearing in front of Tamlin and slamming him back into the wall. Her forearm pushed into his throat. She growled, each word dripping with the promise of blood: “What. Happened. To. My. Mate.”

Elain

This wasn’t right. Elain looked around at the bare-boned trees shivering dark against a faded sky.

She was in Velaris. She was staring at a rosebush. There were clippers in her hand.

But when Elain looked down, there were no clippers, and the air was colder and dulled. It took a moment for recognition to set in—she recognized these woods, that far-off stone wall with its grotesque iron gate.

She shouldn’t be here. 

Couldn’t be. 

That was Lord Nolan’s manor, but she was in Velaris. Feyre and Nyx and Cerridwen were playing on the other side of the gardens. She was listening to them moments ago.

But this world was silent.

She realized it was a vision when her feet began moving against her will.

Suddenly, she stood before the gates staring at two guards in Graysen’s father’s colors. But the vision shattered, cracking and falling like the shards of a mirror. 

And then Elain was curled up on the grass of her garden with a searing white pain in her chest. Feyre was screaming.

The world was shaking—no, that was her, shaking. Being shook.

“...lain. Elain, please open your eyes,” Feyre’s voice pleaded.

Elain slowly obeyed, squinting and blinking and trying to adjust to the brightness of the sun above her. It was hard to do anything with the memory of that pain echoing across her skin.

“I…” Elain’s voice cracked, her mind still reeling. “I had a vision, I’m fine,” she said weakly as she let Feyre help her sit up.

Elain realized her mistake when she saw how wide Feyre’s eyes had grown. 

“You had… a vision?” Feyre parsed out the words on her tongue, piecing together her elder sister’s lies of the past year and a half. “Elain,” Feyre said with an equal amount of shame and reproach. She took a deep breath, then said more gently, “Let’s get you inside, okay?” 

Was this the moment when the world crashed down around her feet? This lie, her secret, no doubt already reaching the minds of the inner circle via Rhys. Because this changed everything. That was part of the reason Elain had hidden it.

Elain nodded and let Feyre tug her to her feet.

She wasn’t dumb, though it made life easier when people thought she was. While the others thought she only read books on flowers or the romances Nesta pawned off on her, Elain had done her research. She knew Clotho had a personal weakness for lemon tarts and that the female was happy to offer her the sanctuary of the Library beneath the House of the Wind regardless of the unseemly times of day she showed up. 

Elain knew how rare Seers were. She knew how they were coveted by High Lords and Kings, wooed and worshiped until they were locked up or literally chained to a wall in one case. It was a terrible power, she’d never understood….

Why, in those frozen depths of the Cauldron, when the Mother had examined her soul and somehow found her ‘worthy,’ had she cursed Elain with this ‘gift’ that often drove its bearers to madness? 

Yes, the Mother’s gift included many other things Elain didn’t understand, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to be a Seer, didn’t want to live with the constant threat of her mind being violated by the past or future. She didn’t want to deal with the burden of trying to unravel all those damned riddles her sight enjoyed laying at her feet.

Swallowing her anxiety down, Elain let Feyre lead her into the house and press a cup of tea into her hands. But that pain was still throbbing—enough to make her feel lightheaded. Elain couldn’t shake off the small voice screaming “something is wrong.” 

And then it clicked into place. Lucien. She’d been sensing him through the bond more recently. That must have been his pain. Which meant something had gone terribly wrong… Nolan’s manor. That vision had been of Lucien, or at least what had happened to him.

“Elain, what can I do?” Feyre’s question broke the clamor of her thoughts.

Mate. Protect him. Save him. That inner voice commanded with so much dominance Elain almost leapt off of the settee despite herself.

She couldn’t deny what she saw, what she was feeling. But something stopped her from voicing all of it to her sister. 

“I… I think I would like to lie down for a while, if that’s alright,” she answered Feyre in that soft small voice everyone thought was her only one.

Elain lost herself in thought while she allowed Feyre to lead her up to her room. She didn’t understand this thing writhing within her, this bond. Lucien was a stranger. Yet, even as a stranger Elain didn’t wish that kind of pain on anyone—she wanted to help, to soothe, to heal. Those had always been her core intentions. Even before she nearly drowned in the Cauldron and somehow emerged with the gifts of the Mother that made those instincts stronger. 

She hadn’t realized it until that fateful day, nearly a year ago when Nesta had sacrificed her magic to save Nyx, Feyre and Rhys. That was when that shimmering well of power sparked. While Nesta had laid herself across Feyre’s ashen form, Elain had dived into that inner abyss—had begged the Mother to let Nesta stay, to see that Nesta’s heart wasn’t owned by the Cauldron’s icy void, that Nesta was just trying to protect everyone, that Nesta deserved to live.  

Thankfully, the Mother had listened. Elain had mentioned nothing about that day. She scarcely dared think about it. Nesta would have died if the Mother hadn’t intervened. It was only the second time Elain had ever let that power fill her veins, to sever the Cauldron’s grip of Nesta’s soul—to keep it from killing her. The first had been during the war when she’d somehow winnowed and found her hand clenched tight around Truth-Teller, buried in the King of Hybern’s neck. 

Feyre drew the curtains shut while Elain sat on the edge of her bed. 

 Please leave, Elain hoped as Feyre turned towards her in the dim faelight.

“Do you want to be alone?” her sister asked.

“I think I’ll sleep for a while.” Elain pasted on an encouraging smile.

Save him. Save him. Don’t let it fade. The voice chanted.

As soon as the door shut behind Feyre, Elain moved: out to the balcony, down the trellis of ivy. She knew the way with her eyes closed. She’d spent many sleepless nights watching the Sidra drift by or scanning dusty tomes for answers that didn’t exist.

Elain’s slippered feet hit the frostbitten earth, the voice growing louder. She was tired of fighting it so, for the third time, Elain gave up. She let that shimmering light rise to the surface, allowed that voice to guide her steps. When she reached inside for that golden ribbon she knew would lead her to Lucien, she fell to her knees in the dead grass. 

No.

There wasn’t a ribbon. There were only ragged threads. Elain focused her hearing, no matter where he went she could hear it. His heartbeat was there, but it was too slow.

No.

Save him. Save him. Protect. Defend.

Elain let that unknown power force her shaking legs to stand. She could question all of this when she knew Lucien was safe. She’d already broken character, let Feyre see the truth. Pretense was irrelevant now. It was the least she could do after all, for the male whom had saved her countless times without knowing it.

She took a step forward, letting that power fill her vision as darkness pressed in on all sides and then she was standing outside of the townhouse. She’d winnowed again, somehow. Elain would worry about that another time. 

The air smelled strange. She could scent Lucien, closely mingled with another of stale flowers and rain and… blood. Icy dread sluiced through her veins at the realization it was Lucien’s blood. All Elain saw was red and light. She felt a pulse of magic, heard a faint shatter of glass.

Mate. Save him. Protect him.

There was Madja, staring blankly at her, bent over Lucien’s body—he was unconscious and covered in drying blood.

“Mate. Protect,” was the last thing Elain remembered hearing before her power consumed her completely.

Elain woke to the sound of hushed voices. She was lying on a hard surface.

“Was knocking her out really necessary?” Nesta quietly snarled.

“I didn’t ‘knock her out,’ I put her to sleep,” Rhys’s voice was calm yet equally hushed. “She wasn’t herself, Nesta. I didn’t want her to hurt anyone or hurt herself.”

“I thought she didn’t have magic anymore,” Cassian said.

“Well, I knew something was still there,” Amren sounded smug.

Elain cracked an eye open, just enough to get a blurry image of the scene. Feyre was slowly shaking her head, looking at the floor. They were still in the townhouse. Her head felt like someone had split her skull with a hammer and chisel.

“I found her unconscious in the garden this afternoon. I couldn’t get into her mind but when she woke up, she said she’d had a vision. I don’t know if it’s happened before, or if she’s aware of this power,” Feyre murmured.

“How long will she be asleep?” Nesta asked, concerned.

“She’s already awake,” a deep voice like honey rumbled from directly behind her, though it sounded strained.

Elain bolted upright, scrambled off the table and nearly head-butted the wall as the room swayed beneath her feet. Her fingertips dug into the molded oak paneling but then Nesta’s hands gripped her shoulders and steadied her. One of those hands moved to her cheek as Nesta turned her face to examine it. Elain shook off Nesta’s hand and turned back to look at the wide dining table where Lucien lay, his hair a sanguine red against a blue pillow.

She took a shaky step toward him before she stopped herself, ignoring that voice demanding she run to him and make sure he’s okay.

“Lucien,” she breathed. Her throat felt raw, like she had been screaming. She swallowed, painfully. “Are… are you going to be alright?”

“Right as rain, Lady,” he said with a smirk that twisted into a grimace as he coughed

Liar.

“He’ll be perfectly healed in a few days,” Madja explained from a chair by the fire. “He’s lucky he got here when he did, a few more minutes and some of those splinters would have reached his heart.”

“How do you feel, Elain?” Nesta asked softly, holding Elain’s elbow.

“I’m fine Nesta.” Elain’s words were clipped. She hated this feeling, that dark gap in her memory. 

Lucien coughed again, “She’s about thirty seconds from passing out if her heartbeat—cough—doesn’t slow and she has one of the worst burnout headaches I’ve ever felt.” His voice grew progressively quieter as he spoke. 

Elain rapidly snapped up her mental shields, but the exertion made her stumble.

Nesta gently shoved her down into an overstuffed armchair and forced a cup of water into her hand, gray eyes gleaming like daggers as she demanded Elain to drink.

Madja shuffled over and placed a wrinkled hand on Elain’s shoulder, the pounding in her head subsided but didn’t disappear. 

Feyre sat down on the ottoman in front of her chair. “Elain, can you tell me what happened? Do you remember?” 

Elain looked around the room. Lucien was now half sitting, propped up on a bunch of pillows. Nesta stood behind her chair, Cassian close to her side. Amren perched on an arm of the sofa where Rhys and Madja sat, behind Feyre. Azriel stood near the arched opening to the dining room, his shadows blending into the darkness behind him. What did she remember? What did she want to remember?

Elain knew she should handle this carefully, that she could play it right and keep things mostly the way they were before. But her head was so foggy, everything about her felt sluggish. What she remembered after she left her room were flashes, nothing coherent. Elain remembered the pain on Feyre’s face in the garden, when she’d suspected Elain had been lying.

Pain. She was in pain. Lucien was in pain. There was too much of it. Elain was tired. So very, very tired of pain. Elain took a deep breath and spoke.

“Earlier, I had a… vision.” She tucked her hand beneath her thighs to stop herself from wringing her fingers. “I saw the gates of Lord Nolan’s manor.” She forced her gaze to meet Lucien’s, “I felt those guards shoot you.”

Her eyes closed as her voice cracked. She couldn’t look at him without that voice chanting all the things she should do to those guards. Elain took a deep breath, “I felt your pain, that’s how I knew it was you. I feel nothing in my visions.” Unless they are about you, she finished in her head.

“I remember Feyre taking me up to my room. I remember leaving as soon as she left. I… I just couldn’t let anyone be in that kind of pain when I knew there was something I could do to help. When I tried to find you the bond—it was fading. I panicked, I could sense you were close to death.” Elain swiped an errant tear from her cheek. She shouldn’t be crying over a stranger. 

“That thing, that voice panicked and I could feel a sort of light, a power inside me and it wanted to get out. I could barely think straight so I let it—it felt like my best chance to find him. After that, it's just fragments. I remember standing outside of the townhouse. I remember it smelled wrong, like rain and dying flowers and Lucien’s blood.”

Elain noticed Feyre’s nostrils flare, then her whole body went rigid and her face paled. She stiffly nodded for Elain to continue but her eyes glazed over slightly.

“That’s really all I can remember.” Elain looked to the dancing flames behind the grate.

The silence in the room was broken when Rhys spoke a name, “Mor?”

Morrigan winced as she stepped out of Azriel’s shadows. “That's all she remembers,” she said Rhys.

Fuck. They used Mor? Was their distrust in her truly so immense? It hurt, more than Elain expected it would. Not that she could really blame them. Lucien looked shocked, but it seemed the others were aware. Mor, at least, had the decency to look apologetic.

Feyre moved off of the ottoman to sit on Rhys’s lap. Her color was better, whatever they’d spoken about mind-to-mind had worked. Rhys cleared his throat, “Well, let me show you all what I remember.”

Elain was grateful she was sitting down or she might have fainted as Rhys’s experience of events played through everyone’s minds, stopping on an image of her pinning Tamlin against the wall by his throat. 

“Fascinating,” Amren mused. She cocked her head, those unholy steel eyes flitting between Elain and Nesta, analyzing them as if they were one of her many puzzles. 

Elain’s mind was still trying to catch up with everything Rhys had revealed when she felt a sharp spike of self-loathing. She looked over to Lucien who wore a haunted expression.

“Stop that!” Elain hissed at him. 

Lucien’s russet and gold gaze turned sharply on her and Elain clapped a hand over her mouth, felt her eyes widen.

“Sorry I just… none of this was your fault Lucien,” she stammered, warmth rising to her cheeks.

“No, that’s not… never mind. You’re right,” his words were stilted. 

Elain noticed the others glancing between them, their faces betraying an odd mix of confusion and amusement. 

Before she had time to respond, Nesta snickered “You—you really…. Honestly, I’m jealous.”

Elain was confused. 

Nesta sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “Just—the next time you nail Tamlin’s balls to the wall—wait for me.”

Feyre snorted softly. 

Slowly, Elain turned to Rhys. “I…. Oh Gods… I attacked a High Lord… did I start a war?”

She held no sympathy for Tamlin, but Prythian was still recovering from the last war.

Rhys shook his head with a gentle smile. He asked Lucien, “Are you feeling well enough to head to the River House?”

Lucien nodded once.

“Right then, we will continue this discussion after we’ve all had something to eat,” Rhys concluded.

Cassian mumbled “about damn time,” as he and Nesta made their way outside.

Amren held her hand out expectantly to Azriel who rolled his eyes before winnowing away with the tiny ancient one in tow.

Rhys slung and arm around Lucien’s broad shoulders as he helped him stand. Elain was momentarily stunned because Lucien was taller than Rhys when she saw them side by side. No, that was a dumb thing to realize and why now…. Elain blinked a few times to clear her head.

Feyre and Mor were looking at her, waiting. Elain looked back at Lucien and Rhys, the latter now looking at her in silent question. 

She slowly rose to her feet, pleasantly surprised to find her legs steady. Elain took a step towards Feyre but the disquiet in her gut increased and she hesitated. 

“I’ll go with Lucien and Rhys,” she found herself saying. The nervous energy settled a bit more with each step towards them.

She didn’t even attempt to decipher the meaning in Rhys’s knowing gaze. Elain took his arm, and they winnowed to the lawn of the River House. Cassian was waiting for them by the door, taking over as Lucien’s support and disappearing into the house. Elain made to follow them but Rhys gently stopped her. 

“What?” Elain cocked her head at the High Lord of Night. For that definitely was not the expression of her smartass brother-in-law.

“I will allow you into this house if you swear to do no harm to my mate, my son, or any other members of my inner circle or guests of my household.” Rhys’s voice was the deep cold of a midwinter’s night.

Elain took a step back, eyes stinging. Did Rhys really think she would hurt her sisters, hurt Nyx?

His expression softened slightly, “The vow is a formality, Elain. I don’t think you would intentionally harm anyone but you… you weren’t yourself this morning. It will give you peace of mind as well, a guarantee that no one you care about would get hurt if you lost control again.”

That would be true, she supposed.

A part of her bristled at the ultimatum, that Rhys—the champion of choices—didn’t give her one. Another part of her was grateful, she didn’t trust herself. Hadn’t since she’d come out of the Cauldron. She’d buried her powers so deep because they scared her—that potential loss of control was absolutely terrifying. 

“I swear to do no harm to my sisters, my nephew, or any members of the inner circle or guests of your household,” Elain repeated as she held out her hand. 

Elain didn’t realize she was freezing until Rhys’s hand wrapped around hers, the warmth and the zing of magic pulsing through the air gave her goosebumps. She looked at their clasped hands and saw a tiny star tattooed on the inside of her right wrist. It was… cute.

Elain paid little attention to anything during dinner. Thankfully, everyone seemed happy to carry on their conversations without her. She wasn’t surprised, they normally were. She downed her first glass of wine and spent an hour picking at her food. Elain was grateful to be sitting next to Mor. In quiet solidarity, Mor kept pace with Elain. When the meal ended the two of them had finished a bottle.

She followed the others through to the sitting room, every sense softer—and she was delightfully warm. The events of the day felt less world-shattering. Elain’s mind was still drifting when Rhys called for everyone’s attention. Only then did the room come into focus. Amren, Feyre, and Nesta were giving her odd looks. She glanced down to see if she’d accidentally spilled wine on her dress only to meet Lucien’s russet-gold stare, not a foot below her.

Elain wished the floors would open up and swallow her. Apparently while her mind had wandered, her feet had carried her to stand halfway behind the chair where Lucien sat near the fire.

Good. He is still healing, watch over him, the voice said. 

Elain almost jumped at the sound, it hadn't spoken in hours.

To move away now, after everyone else had settled would be even more awkward, so Elain stayed. 

It’s just the bond. Just my instincts — it means nothing. They all know that, she talked herself down before she could feel too flustered.

“Alright Amren,” Rhys said coolly, holding his palm out in an invitation to speak.

Elain’s heart jumped into her throat. She felt like a child again, waiting for her mother’s tongue-lashing.

Would they ship her away like Nesta, or worse? At least Nesta hadn’t tricked everyone. She’d lied, but the lies were obvious. Elain had manipulated her family’s goodwill against them, for her own selfish comfort. She knew her powers could make a profound difference in the world… if she could bear to face them. 

She wasn’t like her sisters. She wasn’t a warrior; she didn’t want to lead people; she didn’t even want to be here half of the time. Elain missed being human, she missed the life Hybern and the Cauldron had stolen from her. She didn’t want this power in her veins so she’d done her best to ignore its existence.

Amren looked at Elain, her bobbed hair swaying as her head again tilted to the side, assessing. “This isn’t the first time. Is it, girl?”

“No,” Elain hated how meek her voice sounded.

“Well?” Amren motioned for her to elaborate. 

Elain took a deep breath that did nothing to steady her so she gripped the back of the chair, low enough that no one could see how weak she was. Feyre had no trouble commanding a room of faeries who hated her, but Elain was not her sister.

“I… um.” Elain stuttered.

Lucien shifted in front of her, crossing his arms and her breath hitched when she felt warm fingers brush against hers. The contact grounded her.

She swallowed and spoke. “The first time was during the war. I was pacing in camp when I saw Nesta’s blast. Felt it. I could sense something beneath my skin, like I was burning from the inside.” 

“I knew something bad was happening, could feel it in my bones. And then I heard a voice, your voice.” Elain looked at her little sister. “You begged me to save them.”

“I begged the Cauldron to save them,” Feyre explained. “How did you hear that?”

“The Cauldron and its power answer to ultimately to her, at least in this world. She knew you needed help,” Elain replied.

“Her?” Feyre asked.

“This world?” Rhys spoke at the same moment as his mate.

Elain blushed, she definitely said too much.

“Don’t get distracted, girl,” Amren chided.

Elain nodded and continued, “Well, I don’t know what I did. I just… let go. Let the light burn. And the next thing I can remember is my hand covered in blood holding Truth-Teller’s hilt in that King’s neck. I don’t know how I got there. I panicked when I realized what was happening—what I did. And well, Nesta took over then.”

Lucien’s fingers twitched against hers, the slight touch doing more to comfort her than was logical.

“The second time was different, internal. It was when Nyx was born,” Elain explained. Everyone in the room sat up a little straighter at that. 

“What I saw,” Cassian blurted out, “that was you? You stopped the Cauldron from taking all of Nesta’s power.”

“Not exactly me, but yes. I… well, it’s hard to explain since I don’t really understand it.” Elain paused, she really didn’t know if this would make any sense. 

“Just tell us as best as you can,” Lucien spoke for the first time since they’d gathered. 

“Well Nesta, remember the terms of your bargain? I’d seen what would happen, only I didn’t realize what the vision meant until you first said ‘I give it all back.’ The vision was a phrase: one life for three, moonlit death, what a bargain.” 

Elain saw Cassian stiffen as the meaning of the words hit him, he drew his wing closer around Nesta.

“Nesta, when you told the Cauldron you would ‘give it all back,’ you bargained away your life. I couldn’t let that happen so I reached out—reached down maybe, into the power. It’s kind of like a well right, so I dove to the bottom—to the heart, the source.”

“The source?” Amren prompted skeptically. 

“The Mother,” Elain replied.

Amren’s gray eyes went wide. 

“The Mother,” Elain continued, her voice more confident now, “is the only thing who can truly influence the Cauldron. She gave the Cauldron purpose when she created this world, the Cauldron loves her because of it.”

“What does the Mother have to do with Nesta’s bargain? How do you have a connection to her?” Feyre asked.

“Well,” Elain swallowed, trying to ignore terror brought on by the memories of that day in Hybern. She hadn’t realized her eyes had squeezed shut until another faint brush of Lucien’s fingers made her open them.

“When I went into the Cauldron,” Elain stared into the fire, “I was drifting for a long time until the Mother’s hand took hold of me. She said something about being pure of heart and told me the Cauldron would bless me with great gifts. And that she would always walk beside me.

“When I met her again, trying to save Nesta’s life from that bargain, I offered her anything she wanted as long as she made the Cauldron alter your bargain to let you live, to let you all live. She made me vow I would never seek to rid myself of my powers. I don’t know how much you all know about Seers, but it’s usually a cursed gift. They lose their sanity or become slaves and prisoners, often both. The Mother knew I didn’t want that. She knew it would be harder to keep the gifts than trade them for you. And well, here we are.”

The typically loud group of Fae were silent.  

“If you don’t believe me, that bargain is inked in gold on my spine,” Elain shrugged, trying to lighten the mood, her gaze still fixed on the fire. She could have sworn she saw a forest in the flames, a fox running between the trees. Then again, she’d had a lot of wine.

This world was bizarre, magic didn’t follow logic or reason. Compared to some stories she’d heard from this group—this might not even be the strangest. She felt light. Freer than she had felt for many years.

“Elain—” Nesta’s cracking voice drew Elain’s gaze. “You saved me. Twice. You saved Cassian’s life, too.”

“Considering how many times you’ve saved me over the years, Nesta, it was the least I could do to pay you back.”

Elain took a deep breath and addressed the room, breaking contact with Lucien and stepping away from the chair. “I’m sorry for keeping this all to myself. What I’ve told you all tonight is just a fraction. I was terrified—am terrified by all of this. It was too overwhelming, so I shut it all out. I know it was selfish. I’m sorry that I lied to you all, that I abused your kindness to shield myself from having to deal with any of it.”

Elain kept her eyes on the floor, waiting. For what, she wasn’t sure.

Nesta’s arms wrapped around her, squeezing. Feyre’s arms wound around both of them a second later. Warm tears tracked down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry I made you feel you couldn’t talk to me about any of this,” Feyre mumbled into Elain’s shoulder. “I hate that you’ve been dealing with this by yourself.”

“If anyone was selfish, it was me,” Nesta sniffed. “You were right that time at the River House. I was too consumed by my shit to realize you were going through it too, that you needed someone just as much as I did.”

Elain pulled away when it got hard to breathe, wiping the tears from her eyes and grinning at her sisters. Rhys cleared his throat. Elain saw Cassian wipe away a few tears of his own. She didn’t know why but she turned back toward Lucien.

He was smiling at her, his russet eye held a mix of wonder and pride. It was like Elain had spent the last three years under the clouds. Finally explaining part of what had been haunting her had revealed scraps of blue sky, but that one look from Lucien banished the rest. Like that smile was the sweetest ray of sunlight to ever shine. And maybe it would be okay.

tagging: @ablogofbipanic @damedechance @octobers-veryown @panicatthenightcourt @moonpatroclus @vulpes-fennec @krem-does-stuff @areyoudreaminof @spell-cleavers @fieldofdaisiies @foundress0fnothing @kingofsummer93

[xenrui]

Dread

Pairings: Larissa Weems x Student!F!Reader

Summary: Homophobic parents coming to visit R just to insult her

Warnings: homophobia, parental issues, Arranged Marriage, Bad Writing

~

Y/n has been dreading this day, seeing her parents was not her favorite activity. And when seeing them standing near the fountain, she knew she was in for a treat

"Oh god, they're here" Y/n's voice was quiet, as if she was trying to hide from someone

"Who?" Enid was quick to ask

The look Y/n had made Enid worried a bit, she looked.. Pale. "Y/n who's here?" Enid asked again, worrying over her friend

Y/n pointed to the people looking around the crowd

"Oh" Enid's facial expression changed to a frown, knowing what her friend has been through. Wednesday has heard some stories about Y/n's parents and decided to not comment on the situation

She tried looking away but before she could, her parents already spotted her

"Y/n" her mother 'joyfully' called her name out. "How have you been?" Plastering a fake smile, probably to look good infront of Enid and Wednesday

While Y/n's dad didn't even try to good infront of them, having a slightly disgusted look on his face while scanning Y/n up and down

"I'm good." Y/n said sharply, her tone different from how she usually talks

"Be more cheerful, would you? We came all the way from the city just to visit you." Her mother gave the exact same tone as she did

Rolling her eyes, Y/n's mother notices and pulls her to the side as her Dad follows

"Listen here. We came here to visit to tell you that we've arranged you a little something when you get back home"

"What did you do?"

"A marriage, with your Father's Friend's son" Y/n's mother said, looking pissed at her

Y/n was shocked. She knew her parents didn't take her coming out well, but she never expected them to go this far

"I'm literally 16. You know I'm gay, and I'm not interested in getting married" Y/n retorted, earning a scoff from her Father

"Stop spitting nonsense Y/n. I didn't raise you to be.. disgusting and gay. You don't have any other choice than to Marry him, he's a smart and handsome young man. And if you don't agree you'll find your stuff at home thrown away" Y/n's father said annoyingly

Principle Weems was inside the Building near the family when she heard the conversation. Feeling her blood boil that one of her students being mistreated by her own Parents. Deciding to do something about it

"Excuse me, Mr and Mrs L/n" The principle erupted their conversation making the 3 of them jump a bit

"Don't you know what Privacy is?" Y/n's father said

He looked pissed as hell.

"I'm quite fond with what that is. But with hearing your conversation, I believe its best if I step in" Larissa said, looking down on both the parents making them both get a bit intimidated

"You have no concern in this. This is a family matter" The mother said

"If I'm correct, you sent your child here to not be mistreated, yes? But fron the looks of it, you're the one mistreating them" Larissa said, her tone slightly getting lower

"If she doesn't do as we say, She'll no longer be a part of my Family"

Y/n looked at The Principle, the broken look in her eyes made The Princple's heart break. She was always fond of Y/n, so making the decision wasn't hard for her

"If thats the case, I'll take her under my care. I think I'm more than capable of protecting and taking care of her better than you" She spat

Kneeling down the Students height and ignoring the Parents deadly glares, she asks

"Y/n, Darling. Would you like to live with me?" She smiled softly, wiping the tear that escaped the Students eyes with her gloved fingers

Nodding, Y/n agreed. "Yes please.. I'd rather be with you..." Y/n said quietly only for the two of them to hear

"Very good. Well, as she says, I will be taking care of her from now on. I'll be her Legal Guardian now so Please sign the papers I'll be sending you soon." Larissa stood up while holding Y/n's shoulders softly

If looks could kill, they'd both be dead by now just with The Principle's glare at them.

Y/n's parents takes their leave with grumbles and curses

Y/n turned to The Principle and hugged her, tears running down her face as she felt relief they finally left

"I'm sorry you had to go through that.." Y/n said between sobs

Kneeling once again to reach her height, Larissa caressed her hair

"Shh, I should be the one sorry. If I'd known earlier, you wouldn't of had to go through that. I child like you should have supportive people around you, and I'll give it to you as best as I can" She smiled at her student

"Even if I'm gay?"

"Darling, the reason this school exists is for people to not feel alone and judged. I don't care what you are, as long as you're happy. It's my job to protect my students and make sure they are happy and treated well. Now come, help me with some stuff now will you" She smiled

Smiling a bit with her, Y/n wiped her tears and nodded. Feeling happy that her feelings wasn't discarded this time

~

A/n: I'm sorry if This was bad. I wasn't feeling it either but I couldn't let it go to scraps. I hope you still enjoyed, Even if its just a little :)

[thevoiceofthebard]

Chapter 4 - Hadvar II: Before The Storm

Sundas, 17th of Last Seed 4E201 Early Afternoon

Hadvar

Fresh air hits me in the face; a welcome relief after an hour of stale cave air. But no time to relish it yet. I keep low to the ground, dashing to a nearby rock for cover. Waiting. Listening.

There, the beat of heavy wings. A monstrous roar passes above me, but thankfully I seem to have gone unnoticed. I hope. The dragon flies swiftly to the south, passing over a nearby ridge and out of sight.

I wait another moment before I signal the all-clear behind me. Were anyone watching at the time, they'd probably have been surprised to see the ragtag group of both Imperials and Stormcloaks escaping the cave. To be frank, I know I still was. To see a Stormcloak helping out an Imperial with a broken leg. I could say it was solely the fear of the dragon forcing enemies together, rivalries forgotten in the face of survival, but in reality...

I see Talao in the middle of the group, telling a joke, bringing laughter in what was essentially the aftermath of a warzone. The man's charisma is astounding. He convinced every single soldier we met within Helgen into joining the escape effort. He pulled citizens from rubble with us, and even once physically stopping a soldier trying to stab another in the back. Then berated him so soundly, the man willingly threw away his weapon in remorse. Quite a sight.

The soldiers and townspeople laugh and whoop as they leave the cave, breathing in the midday air. Smiles surround me. But for the sight of smoke in the distance behind us, there is no sign of the hell we went through here, and it is invigorating. Cheerful goodbyes are exchanged, then the groups head out; Imperials to the west, Stormcloaks to the east. Ralof, Talao, and I, however, head north to Riverwood; my hometown, and Ralof's too. The dragon had gratefully passed it by, its bloodlust seemingly satisfied. But it was unlikely anyone had understood exactly what it was, if they had seen it at all. We needed to spread the word, and quickly. We would spend the night in Riverwood, then Talao would set off for Whiterun, the nearest city, and and trading capital of Skyrim, while Ralof and I would warn Riften and Markarth, respectively. The other holds would be passed through by returning soldiers, but for Dawnstar and Winterhold, more easily reached by boat couriers. The holds may be shored up for war, but dragons... That's beyond what anyone could have prepared for in this day and age.

In the meantime, however, the walk to Riverwood is subdued. True, Talao does ask a few questions about the area, and I am glad to point our a few of the sights, such as the infamous Bleak Falls Barrow - nasty place, that, and source of no few nightmares in my youth. Draugr sneaking in during the night, and all that. But for the most part, an icy silence lingers between Ralof and myself. He studiously ignores me, but I can't help wondering what goes through his mid.

We grew up together in Riverwood. Small town that it is, we became swift friends and rivals, bumping heads, but sharing a stolen mug of mead at the end of the night. He was always the impulsive one. Not to say I was smarter, simply more level-headed. Even at a young age, he and his family were utterly devoted in their worship of Talos. When the Empire's war with the Aldmeri Dominion came, we were too young to join the fight. Ralof's father died in the war, and his mother drank herself to an early grave, leaving him in the care of his sister. My father was a Legionnaire, and his before him, but both had died long before that war. So I couldn't relate to the anguish he felt during that time.

Then the terms of the White-Gold Concordat became known. At first, few in Skyrim paid much attention, as much from disbelief as disgust. How could you tell a people who they were allowed to worship? And how would you enforce their thoughts? But when word of Aldmeri Enforcers executing entire families for open worship of Talos started circulating, even Ralof took his faith behind closed doors. Until his cousin was spirited away one night. It wasn't hard to put two and two together then. I never saw a man run so fast as when word of Ulfric's rebellion reached Riverwood.

Knowing all this... Could I truly despise the man for joining the Stormcloaks?

The silence was getting to me, and the quiet swell of the river wasn't helping at all. "Hey, Talao." The Breton seems caught up in the scenery around him, and I have to call him again to catch his attention. Wish I could be so carefree. "What exactly were you doing at Darkwater Crossing when you stumbled in that ambush?"

"Nothing terribly extraordinary." Out of danger, I notice now how soothing the man's voice is; leagues separate from the usual harsh voices I am accustomed to hearing in Skyrim. "My companion and I were merely travelling, searching for excitement."

"You're an adventurer?" Ralof asks, somewhat skeptical. I can't help but agree with him in my mind; the man is much too wiry and... Well, of course, his injury.

"Though I might sometimes wish it, no. I ply my trade as a bard. I hire or follow adventurers around, hoping to capture some new story to tell. Randolph, the man I was travelling with, had told me he was planning something grand, so I followed to see what would occur." Talao's face showed a strange combination of disappointment and glee. "Though I doubt a man idiotic enough to charge a line of Legionnaires would have amounted to more than a pitiable laugh. Ah well, at least some good came of it."

This puzzles me. "For the life of me, I can't see any bright side to your story."

He answers with an incredulous look. "Honestly? You don't see anything fantastical about the sighting of the first dragon since the Second Era? The appearance of a long-extinct race? Something world-changing is afoot, and I intend to be there to witness it!"

"Incredible indeed," Ralof replies offhandedly. "Quite the series of events that lead you to that chopping block with us. Maybe that dragon came just for you, eh?"

...I feel like I'm missing out on something important. I almost miss the slight fall of Talao's smile, as he responds, "I highly doubt that. I'm not nearly important enough for such theatrics. Lucky happenstance to be audience, that's all." Ralof seems to be scrutinizing Talao. Again, I wonder what on Nirn is going on in his head.

For better or worse, the swiftly approaching town of Riverwood interrupts our conversation. Still standing; thank the Eight the dragon passed it by. It was jarring, passing through the gate into the sleepy town. We've only just escaped the jaws of a gods-honest dragon scant hours ago, and yet here life goes on the same as always. As if nothing happened. Which, I suppose, would be true if no one had been looking up recently. That's life, I guess. Though if that dragon is a herald for more, I doubt even Riverwood will remain so lax. Our destination reached, we split; Ralof and I to our families, and Talao to the inn. Supposedly to gather information and supplies before heading to Whiterun.

Hopefully he'll get there before any dragons do.

Chapter 3 - Hadvar I: Unbound x Chapter 5 - Sven I: Before The Storm

[piglet26]

Alright, Is the Star Wars Fandom Sexist?

As you probably know Daisy Ridley signed onto do another Star Wars film. I welcomed this..... mostly. If they don't reunited the Dyad I'm very curious as to what would be the point (more on that later.) Well, I saw this quote from a recent interview of hers, "I think my take is things get blown out of proportion and the interactions I've ever had with people have been nothing but wonderful and supportive," Ridley said. "I've only ever been embraced. And I think we're going to make a great film."

Now whether or not Ms. Ridley actually feels this way.......she's intelligent enough to say just this. Undeniably, all of the men who have talked shit about her for the past 7,8 odd years will now have softened to her for simply not holding them accountable. Hey, that's the biz kids. Don't make enemies out of your audience. No man wants to be called a sexist even if he actually is one.

Is there sexism in Star Wars? Yes and no. It has never been a straight answer. Now if you ask a lot of men in the Star Wars fandom if they are sexist..... they'll say no. Why? Princess Leia of course! Padme! Strong women who directed men, issued orders and politically led. They did and do support these women. In fact, if you had asked me if the fandom was sexist prior to The Sequel Trilogy I would've said that the SWF is one of the most progressive fandoms for women and has been since the 70s!

Where did it all go wrong?

Well, maybe this

Or, this

Maybe just good ole fashion paranoia. Personally, I think it's a combination of all three. The minute Disney bought Star Wars the fandom was primed to distrust it. Change, for better or worse, was on the horizon. Hell, even worse, corporate change. It's Rage against the Machine raging FOR the machine. Least we forget how Star Wars started...... as a "fuck you" to corporatized assembly-line movie production.

However, we are not her to discuss whether The Sequel Trilogy was good. Debatable..... with the exception of Reylo. That's just iconic. We are here to discuss how on earth Daisy Ridley ending up bearing the majority of the responsibility for its failures. Maybe even more importantly the "Feminization" of Star Wars.

A sane person could tell that. The same people screaming "Star Wars is Dead" for the last seven years are still saying the eulogy. Still going on whining and complaining about it. There is a general rule when franchise start to go off the track - you ignore it was ever made. Godfather 3? Tokyo Drift? Never happened.

If you don't like what Star Wars has become then the first person on your shit list should be it's creator. George Lucas. George could've signed over Star Wars under the guarantee that whatever outline he produced for The Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Disney HAD to stick to - he didn't. He could've signed on a producer - he didn't. He could've picked someone else except Kathleen Kennedy to replace him - he didn't. Somehow George Lucas has escaped any responsibility in what his life's work has become. Maybe the fandom got it out of their system after the Prequel Road Rage.

News that George Lucas's treatments were thrown out and the extended universe being cancelled didn't exactly calm down the public.

Maybe the next person should JJ Abrams and Kathleen Kennedy for for thinking that there was something wrong with Star Wars. Star Wars already was diverse. It already HAD strong females. Yet, there they went finding problems that didn't exist. Why? Money. Disney has a powerful female/family demographic. Star Wars a strong male demographic. Disney sought to combine the best of all worlds in one franchise and they were the company to do it. Look at what they accomplished with Marvel!

Then the announcement came that there would be a female protagonist. A female Jedi to be exact. I thought this was different and interesting. The men did not. What they saw in there head was THE FORCE IS FEMALE in flashing bright lights. This was it. Confirmation. Star Wars was about to get pussyfied. From the get-go Daisy Ridley's Rey was to be a focus, a target, for the mistrust, uneasiness and rage from the men.

Let's me be clear men are ok girls liking their stuff. As long as girls are not in a position to influence whatever it is they like, or rather "ruin it." Can you blame them? If a bunch of straight dudes came in and started writing Sex and the City I'm telling you- they'd ruin it.

The Force Awakens finally arrives and curiosity was able to lure in even the most salty man. Not to mention the possible joy of seeing Han, Luke and Leia on screen together again. TFA is a perfectly decent film. There were two glaring choices in this film. One, Han is killed. Two, Rey beats Kylo Ren at the end. All things considered we should not have been surprised what the internet had to say. Rey was a Mary Sue. Men who didn't even know what a Mary Sue was were even saying this.

The term “Mary Sue” was first coined in 1973. A young main character, usually a woman, who was portrayed as unreasonably gifted across every discipline: intellect, combat, the arts, etc. This character would often become respected (and maybe even loved) by main characters and would end the story by saving the day in heroic fashion.

You don't have to like Rey. You don't have to love her. Rey isn't even the greatest character ever developed, but come on! I wonderer if the people criticizing her even watched the movie. I heard criticism that Rey was too likable! Well, she's the protagonist. She's too pretty! That's a bad thing? She's too nice! She comes off really brash and naive actually. She's the greatest pilot ever! She flew once and not that well. Most of the criticism around Rey was disingenuous and petty as hell.

Many critics have taken the lazy route of she has no character arc or character, but that’s not a very observant take. Her yearning for family and her desperation for her parents to return, while understandable, made her vulnerable to Kylo Ren. Her loneliness made her ultimately vulnerable to anyone who would be nice to her. Now I understand there was no consequences for her faults. However, there can't be both criticism. She either doesn't have a personality, or, she has one, but doesn't suffer consequences for it.

“How could she fly the Millennium Falcon so well?” “How could she beat Kylo Ren when she’d never used a lightsaber before?” “How could she resist Kylo Ren’s interrogation?” The film answered most of these questions. Ironically, no one questioned the 8 year old Anakin Skywalker or the farm boy Luke Skywalker for being amazing or great at anything because of The Force.

She grew up defending herself in melee combat. Her quarterstaff is not a lightsaber, of course, but it was established early on that she has the instincts and the reflexes to hold her own in a fight. While I don't agree with Rey beating Kylo Ren I understand how it was accomplished. Pure, dumb luck. It was luck that Ren was physically and spiritually crippled during their confrontation. Not to mention he had the hots for you. Finn was able to hold him off mostly because Kylo was toying with him, but when he grew bored Finn ended up face first in the snow. No one questioned how Finn the janitor could wield a lightsaber.

Let's talk about Finn, or rather John Boyega. All things considered pretty lucky guy. He got a likable that he played well and got paid well. You wouldn't know it by listening to him. He complained bitterly. He attacked the fans. He attacked Disney. He attacked America. He got off Scott free with fandom. Most remember him with nothing but fondness. Maybe because he is black people feel slightly uncomfortable going after him. But, the women? No problem. Even when fans hate male characters, they talk about what they hate with nuance.

Daisy Ridley did her job and she went home. She carried on beautifully and respectfully with what she was given by the production team. That is all any actor can do. The same would apply to the girl who played Rose Tico. Yet, criticism of what was happening on screen started to bleed onto the actresses in real life.

Mark Hamill shit talked the Sequel Trilogy - fair, enough. But why did you sign on? It he because he needed a job? Hondo wasn't a great leader. I agree. But, countless people ended up losing their lives due to Poe because he refused to listen to the female authority around him. Where was the fandom with their logic bitterness scorecard? The majority of the criticism I heard (Literally several videos on Youtube) was criticism towards Hondo for not telling a newly demoted soldier all of her plans.

Anywho Rey has this new movie coming out...........okay. Not sure who wants to come back for it other than her. After TROS and the fans most co-stars seem good doing other things. OG characters are killed off. There is one person with stunning jet black hair, 6'3, plush naturally red lips, a big dick, freckles and a heroic run that she's in a dyad with that would make this whole movie worth it. Do I faith they'll do the right thing and pay Adam Driver whatever they need to to bring him back? No. Cause there is a little bit of an agenda. For some reason love in the Star Wars universe doesn't do very well, but for the woman it's none existent. The concept that a strong woman doesn't have to die alone seems odd to the very people that want equality for women. For example I saw this comment, "Rey Skywalker is her own character and her continuing story doesn’t have to revolve around Ben Solo. Daisy Ridley’s return shouldn’t be overshadowed by fan expectation over Adam Driver returning."

Yes, it does. This film needs to work. I cannot stress that enough. You know people want to see this film fail. Reylo isn't purely for sentimental reasons (I WOULD SEE MY DYAD REUNITED FOUR TIMES IN THEATRES) Reylo is the biggest marketing advantage Disney Star Wars has..... you knew that when Solo flopped. Do the smart thing, put these people on mute and give us a iconic fight fuck scene.

Rey also wear clothes appropriate with her environment and match the physical needs of what she needs to accomplish like her male peers. Logical and refreshing. I hear the men mostly complain about the lack of hot women in their fantasy.

We could also talk about the sexism Carrie Fisher faced from the not only the studio, but the fandom for the crime of getting older and gaining weight. Her in a metal bikini is already in the spank bank - she contributed enough.

Again, neither Carrie Fisher nor Daisy Ridley in a smart world could ever really own that. Anymore than the Rose Tico actress could. Worse, they could never really tell the Fanboys what they really think of them. I love me some Fanboys, I do, but they aren't a perfect group of people. They just criticism everyone's work like they are. We're suppose to ignore the giant dump they take on anything and everything that comes out. I genuinely think the people beyond The Star Wars Sequel Trilogy sought out to create a great story. To honor what came before. In many respect they did. They aren't George Lucas though.

There is legitimate criticism towards Disney for how it has handled the Star Wars franchise. Currently it can't exactly be be described as quality over quantity. The writers seem like they are writing for early 00s Disney Channel rather a complex space political fairytale. Characterization has not been wonderful. Again, it's not simple. While Disney has not steered the ship perfectly. I would argue there was an audience sitting in ill will and waiting to be disappointment.

[tommyboykaulitz]

Johnny Knoxville x reader

The Big Surprise

Description:It is your boyfriends birthday and you set up a romantic night followed by a party with all your friend on your night off.

You finish your last stunt of the day, leading to you having a three day break from Jackass. You haven’t had a break in so long but instead of having the night to yourself you call Bam and Steve-O to see if they want to help with a surprise. It was Johnnys 25 birthday and you wanted to have a party for him since he never gets to just chill with his friends. It’s always filming nowadays. 

Bam and Steve-O arrive at your house shortly after you do. You greet them and you sit at your bar starting to make plans. You don’t want the party to be too big, more of just a small gathering of friends and family. “Johnny is going to be home in a half hour. So Bam I need you to go get beer and Steve-O spread the word to the rest of the guys. Don’t let Johnny know.” 

“What are you going to do then Y/N?”

“I’m gonna get Johnny out of the house for a little. I set up a reservation at his favorite place. So you guys should probably get going.”

Bam and Steve-O leave while you sit on the couch waiting for Knox. About ten minutes later you hear keys jiggling in the door and you immediately run to the door. “There’s my birthday boy,” you plant a big kiss on his lips. Johnny closes the door and hugs you by your waist. 

“Hey doll, how’s your day been?”

“Pretty boring till now, but I need you to get ready. Dress nice.”

“Ooh where we goin’?” he asks following you upstairs. 

“You’ll see when we get there,” you start getting dressed. Johnny came into the room as dressed up as he wanted to be. In his blue jeans, white shirt with a red flannel, and his iconic red chucks. “Oh you didn’t have dress up this much baby” you say mockingly. You looks you up and down and playfully cocks a brow. Seeing your baggy blue jeans, short tight shirt, and matching chucks. You give Johnny a kiss before grabbing one of his sweaters and head for the car. 

“Mind telling me where we’re going doll face,” blushing when you hear him call you that but ignoring his question. You pull up to the restaurant 5 minutes before your reservation. 

“Hi I have a reservation for two, under Knoxville.” you turn to see Johnny blushing at the way you remembered his favorite place. The host takes you to your table. The same one you had from your first date. 

��How romantic Y/N. Thank you, but you didn’t have to do all this. Staying at home with you would have been just as fun.”

“Yeah well I love you so I wanted to treat you tonight.”

“Thank you, really. I love you.” he says grabbing your hand. 

“Of course Pj, anything for you. I love you too.” 

~

Bam comes back to your house with Steve-O and uses the spare key you left him to start setting up the house. As tempted as he was he knew that if he tried playing any pranks on Johnny tonight, you would kill him. Steve-O starts filling two big buckets full of ice for the beers as Bam starts to rip open the cases, dumping the beers in. He knew that you would be home by 7:45 so he told people to be here at 7. More and more cars started to fill your driveway and the curb in front of it. He shoots you a text saying that everything is ready, and at the perfect time. You had just paid and had started to walk out. Johnnys arm wrapped around your shoulder. “I’ll drive this time sweetie,” he says reaching for your keys. 

“Oh no Pj it’s fine you don’t have to.”

“Come on Y/N, it’s the least I could do after you paid. I insist.” 

“Pj I’m not letting you drive, you still have another surprise.” you say pulling a blindfold out. You wrap it over Johnnys eyes as you help him blindly get into the car. 

~ 

You make it back to your house and try to find a parking spot by the front door. Luckily Steve-O had made a little sign in the front saying ‘reserved for the birthday boy’. You giggle as you get Johnny out of the car leading him to the front door. You open the blindfold and he walks in. You didn’t have anybody yell surprise because you thought it would feel more of a party had the said it. As Johnny walks in you see Steve-O stand up on the counter with a beer screaming “HEY IT’S THE BIRTHDAY BOY” Johnny lets out a chuckle as he starts talking to his friends. 

You grab a beer from one of the buckets before sitting on the couch beside April, Bams mom. “This was really sweet Y/N. I just don’t know how you got Bam to help out.” she says laughing. 

You laugh back “I don’t even know that. There’s probably something waiting up in our bedroom he set for later.”

“Oh that kid is a handful, you know Johnny looks really happy with you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Eyes full of love every time and guilt if he thinks he’s hurt you.” 

You turn to look over your shoulder at Johnny. “Yeah I think I really lucked out on this one. As your looking back Johnny sees you and comes barreling towards you. Planting many kisses on your face before finally picking you up and twirling you. As he sets you down he plants one last big kiss on your lips. 

“Thank you Y/N. This is the best gift I’ve gotten in a while.”

END

[brightdarkness-2013]

Chapter 20: Hang On! Here Comes Another One!

Summary: With Barricade gone Prowl struggles and Jazz talks to Prowl about his family

Prowl had taken to searching for comfort from Blaster and I. We tried to be there as much as possible, but we had to leave at some point and there were times when we couldn’t be there during the day. Blaster had his own goals and I was pulled away on a patrol or rescue. Or of course there was the forced family gathering for us richys for show. My sister just ate it up. Holidays were tense and they were pushing me to get a ‘real’ job and of course father hinted at pulling strings to get me into a good college. Besides that and heading home I was with Prowl. Prowl spent the rest of that time in his nest. Hiding from the staff and his neighbors who tended to watch him more intently since his escapes. He only ate at night now or when Blaster and I came. He only took what we gave him during the day. At night he’d take it into his nest and the only evidence we had that he was actually eating at all was the fact that he was throwing the bones out of the tank and onto the floor in front of the tank. He had made it easier for us previously by moving the bones off to the corner far off corner of the tank as he preferred things clean, but this was new.

We had to go down into the tank to check the nest previously as he had been just bringing the fish into his nest and leaving the bones in there and we had no clue whether or not he was eating at all, but after the second time that happened he had started tossing it out and onto the floor. It was a pretty straight forward sign that he wanted to be alone and didn’t appreciate anyone snooping around his nest. He never acted out violently or really glared at anyone, but he got his points across just fine without any real aggression or threats.

I sighed as I sat on the feeding platform with Prowl laying with his head in my lap. This had been a norm since his stubborn asshole of a pod mate got himself killed. We would just sit there until I had to leave. He didn’t move or make a sound. Sometimes I would talk and other times I had carefully placed music playing. Then there were times where we would just sit in silence. Sometimes Blaster would join us and other times he didn’t. There were times I’d come to find that Blaster had beaten me to it. We’d pull out the loose and dying scales since he hadn’t been doing it himself lately. This was much worse than back in the cove.

“I know you’re hurting and all, but this whole hiding all day isn’t good for ya either. I kinda get where you’re coming from if ya believe it or not. Sure no one in my family has gone and died besides a great grandfather that I never knew, but I do in a way.” I spoke absentmindedly that morning. “I know that despite how my sister acts I’d do whatever I could for her. It’s a very complex feeling really. I mean I know that if I told her not to do something that she’d go and do it anyway and when she realized that I was right she’d never bring it up. We don’t and probably never will have a relationship that’s even close to half of what ya had with Barricade and the rest of your pod as we have been practically ignoring each other for since we hit our teen years, but I’ve done some things for her. I’ve pranked every ex boyfriend that she’s ever had just because she is family.”

I sighed again as the cool sunlight fell on us through the dome above. Prowls newfound little fan club was watching us. It was a usual things now, but I had to wonder what was up with them. They had threatened and went out of their way to either ignore Prowl and Barricade or try to aggravate them, but now they just watched quietly. I pulled out a few loose scales that just barely hung on to his side. It was quiet.

“It’s kind of sad. We used to be so much closer. Maybe I do it for what we used to be. We, as richys, tend to have our friends picked out for us. We bonded on hating our forced friends. Hiding from them and doing whatever we could to ditch them so we could do what we wanted to do. I remember we hid in the attic in the far corner behind all these boxes for hours. Back then she wasn’t afraid of the spiders and their webs so it was fine. We sneezed from the dust and giggled as we talked about what they were doing downstairs as we played board games we had stored up there. We were home schooled back then and were stuck with private tutors and we were all we had.” I paused to take a breath as I lost myself in the memory of what we lost. “We did everything together back then. We had to literally beg and pester our parents every chance we had to get to go to an actual school with other kids. That wasn’t often as our parents just left us with the two maids. They were more than enough for us from the way they think. Less money and having one each following us and cleaning up our messes and feeding us and it was fine in their book. They really only had us because it was expected of them as people in high society I think.”

I was probably an embarrassment. I hummed to myself a second. I already knew they didn’t like my working here. They were either pissed or thinking about disowning me. They never threatened it before, but from how they were never around I wouldn’t put it passed them. They had no doubt forgot about us when they were on business. We didn’t exist really unless it was for some gathering the way I saw it.

“When we finally got into a real school, of course that was after the argument that we didn’t want to go to a high quality school with our forced friends, that was when we were forced apart. For the first time we were separated and we had to socialize with others. It took some time, but we made our own friends and… Well we drifted apart. It was subtle at first and before we knew it there was this… Rift between us. It was like there was this wall and any attempt to break it down was awkward and we just quit trying. Her friends fed off her high status and money while mine couldn’t care less. Nat... She started playing dress up for mommy and daddy and followed their little plans and I… Well I’m here.”

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