#than it turned out to be ded

[grogumaximus]

Max Verstappen and Gianpiero Lambiase's radio messages between Lap 27 - 33

LAP 27 ; Hulk spins and brings VSC

Max: A lot of water coming now, mate. GP: Okay, let me know when you think it's extremes. That's all I need to know, mate.

LAP 28 ; (Pia, Alo, Bea, Ham, Sai and Per pits)

GP: So, Max we have– safety car deployed. Safety car deployed. Dash positive, dash positive. GP: Max, tyres? Max: Does it keep raining or not? Now it's extreme. GP: We have this rain only for another 4 minutes, Max. Max: Okay! fuck. And after that, it's dry or no rain? ..... if it's only for 4 minutes, I will stay out. Max: You need to advise with the radar. I don't know that. GP: Yeah, don't worry Max. Just chatting there. I will let you know. GP: You still happy with the flap? Max: yeah. GP: VSC ending, Max. VSC ending. Max: Fuck, it's a lot of water but..

LAP 29 ; End of the VSC then the session green flagged (Nor, Rus, Tsu and Law pits)

Max: I will just try a lap. GP: stay out recharge off. Just be very careful please, Max. Very careful. (..) GP: So Max, Russell and Norris have pitted for inters. They are behind you. you are effective P2 on track. Just keep it on track mate. Keep it on track.

LAP 30 ; Safety car deployed because of the heavy rain

GP: Ocon ahead 41. All good, just keep it on track. Max: Mate! this is a red. It needs to be a red. GP: Ok safety car deployed, Max. Safetry car deployed. Dash positive, Dash positive. (..) GP: All drivers have said exactly the same thing, Max. I've got no idea what's going on! Max: yeah, it's too dangerous this. GP: just stay out..

LAP 31

GP: Safety car is at turn 4, Max. Turn 4. Max: Yeah the track is filling up with water like massive rivers. This is undrivable. GP: Well, we didn't qualify yesterday in conditions better than this, so I'm not sure what's going on, Max, but the safety car is picking up at turn 5. GP: we're expecting another h– gp ded

LAP 32 ; Colapinto Crashes and brings a red flag

Max: My tyres are just like a boat.

LAP 33

Max: We go again to the pits, yeah? GP: Yep. Max: Even at 70, the pits, I can't see where I'm going. GP: Yeah, we're expecting another very heavy shower in about 5 to 10 minutes. Max: The track is already completely soaked, so it's going to be a long wait. Max: I think I can jump out, yeah? GP: Yeah, I think you can jump out very quickly, Max.

[kiwismitten]

Tired words | Wriothesley x GN!reader

Angst/comfort: Being the frontlines for the whole country’s fate can really make a man lose sleep. After the events that took place, and the sudden return of his lover he’s very snippy.

spoilers: main fontaine archon quest!

CW: yelling , reader almost ded , wriothesley kinda ooc (let me know if i missed anything!)

words: 1751

The halls of the Fortress of Meropide have never felt colder as you make your way to your boyfriend’s office. The events of the days before fresh in everyone’s mind. The incident in Poisson only a few days before your return.

You were on an academic trip to Sumeru, learning about the herbal medicines and picking up some fruits and herbs to bring back to Fontaine. As soon as the steam bird articles showed up at your host home’s door the night of the incident, you apologized and began packing your bags. You’ve never moved with such haste. Of course you know about the prophecy, and Wriothesley had told you before he didn’t even know if he was Fontainian and joked a ton about getting turned into water alongside everyone else. You personally, just weren’t willing to let him take that chance.

The rushed trip back still felt like it took twice as long as the venture there. Jogging through the city with your bag still on your back, listening to depressing conversations from the other citizens about their impending fate. Frantically, you reach the Fortress entrance, and make your way down.

That’s how you ended up standing outside your boyfriend’s office, anxiety coursing through your body. Even the fortress was in disarray. Your soft knocks on the door earn no response, so you slowly push the heavy doors open with a loud creek.

“Darling?” Your voice echos through the bottom floor, your eyes gazing over everything before landing on the strange staircase going further down that you never noticed before.You drop your bags at the door before cautiously venturing down. “Wriothesley?”

A strong hand grabs your shoulder from behind you making you gasp.

“What are you doing?” He looks exhausted, his tone of voice far from the playful, carefree Wriothesley you’ve grown attached to. Sounding closer to how he addresses inmates. Heat fills your torso with joy, seeing he’s okay, and you fling yourself at him wrapping your arms around him.

“You’re okay…” His normal scowl doesn’t leave his face. Different again since his face normally softens at your contact.

“Yes, yes I’m okay what are you doing here.” He says the bags under his eyes more pronounced than normal, sparking worry in your brain.

“I heard what happened in Poisson, and I left early,” You stood in front of him staring up at his towering figure. He sighs, wiping his face with his wrapped hand. His exhaustion seemed to be weighing on him harder at your statement.

“Why.. did you have to come back now?” he pinched the bridge of his nose between his pointer finger and thumb. Your joy falters at his display.

“What do you mean darling..” Your arms fall to your sides. He stares at your form, his eyes piercing through you.

“I mean I thought with you away I'd have one less thing to worry about,” Venom laces his words. “Especially coming to the fortress during times like this, I thought I’d finally be able to focus on the prophecy, but now with you here you’ll need me to be with you so often.” Your heart jumps to your throat. He’s never been so cold to you. Has he always seen being with you as a chore, or is it just the high stress of the current situation. The emotions thick in the air make it difficult to think rationally. The salty air filling your lungs feels heavy and overwhelming.

“I’ll get out of the way.. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Glancing down at your feet.

“Well I am. Now please, I have very important matters to get to.” He pushes past you mumbling under his breath. Stunned in silence, soft tears well in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Slowly, you made your way out of the fortress to stay at a small hotel.

You stayed at the hotel for the night, before the news of an archon going on trial reaches you in the morning. News travels fast in Fontaine, especially when there’s always a journalist creeping in the background. Deciding that staying and rotting in a hotel isn’t how you want to spend your first full day home, and you take a short stroll through the bustling streets. It’s as if no one really minds their impending fate. After reaching the opera epiclese you sit at one of the benches by the fountain. Staring into the water you smile remembering all the times you and Wriothesley sat at the near by benches eating together after his work. How you would lean your head on his shoulder listening to the soft roar of water as it cycles through, but if you were to melt into the sea now, it would be knowing that he brushed you away for being worried about him. A sigh escapes your lips as you continue your stroll, and eventually it gets interrupted by a crowd of people trickling out of the opera house. Gossiping amongst themselves about the archon, and not even batting an eye at the soft patter of rain on pavement.

The rain starts to pick up at an alarming rate, making people rush off under trees, and any form of cover they could find. A somber look rises to your face. “Is this it?” You take a seat on your normal bench, getting soaked in the pelting rain feeling the rain pool at your feet closing your eyes and letting the joyful memories flow through you.

All you really remember is the feeling of water picking you up. Floating through with a peaceful look on your face.Then a graceful arm wrapping around you and bringing you up, and you were suddenly in the air able to breath once again before everything went black.

Waking up in the fortress is never really a heart-warming experience. Especially when it’s in the cold clinical setting of the infirmary. The blurry metallic ceiling is the first thing you see, the bronze color only familiar to the fortress, so you’re immediately aware of where you are. You try to sit up, only to get pushed down by the smaller head nurse.

“Y/N be careful please, you’ve been out for a whole day you’re still healing.” Sigewinne frets over you holding her sticker covered clipboard.

“I feel fine,” You sit up in your bed, feeling the exhaustion hit you. You look around the other beds full of inmates. “I just need some food in me, and I’ll be right as rain.” a smile sheepishly crosses your face at the small joke. Sigewinne frowns and huffs as you pick at the various vital trackers attached to you. She helps a bit and takes out your IV.

“Just like his grace said you would,” you tense at the mention of him forcing a smile. “Just stay here he said to grab him as soon as you’re awake.” Eyes widening, you wait for her to leave before pulling the sheets off of yourself and rushing out of the infirmary. Your vision still blurry from the lack of food. Rushing through the halls, you stop at the canteen, smiling at Bran who waves you over.

“Ah y/n here for your welfare meal?” He smiles softly at your tired form before turning behind him to grab one of the nicer meals. “Courtesy of his grace, eat up.” You slip behind one of the many boxes before sitting on the floor and opening the delicious meal.

Wriothesley walks ahead of Sigewinne his heavy steps unmistakable. When he reaches the infirmary and sees your bed empty he curses under his breath. Sigewinne sighs pouting.

“I did ask her to stay your grace, but they did act weird when I mentioned I was fetching you,” Irritated he walks out, going immediately to the gardes who rat you out immediately.

Too immersed in your delicious food you don’t even notice the heavy steps approaching the canteen.

“What can I do for you your grace,” You stop mid-chew peeking out from the top of the box.

“Have you seen y/n I’m looking for them,” his voice has the carefree energy that you missed so much. His eyes dart around the canteen before meeting yours behind the box where you duck under again. “Ah, never mind, bran.” his heavy steps approach the box, his shadow looming over as you pop back up looking at your hands. He places a heavy hand on your head.

“Wriothesley,” you say breathlessly, tears threatening to fall again. At the break of your voice, he scoops you into his arms his long strides carrying you to his office. He wraps his arms around you as you feel small water droplets fall onto your clothes.

“y/n..” his voice cracks. You’ve never seen him break down like this, he’s the strong one, the one that never lets his strength falter. “I was so scared, i’m so sorry, I should’ve never said any of that shit to you, I was so stressed out after the fortress almost collapsed to the prophecy. I wasn’t getting enough sleep I was exhausted and I took it out on you. I’m so fucking sorry.” Seeing him crumble on top of you was heart-wrenching. His rambling spilling through his lips as his eyes dart across your face. “When Clorinde brought you onto the ship I just wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do, I tried everything but you felt so cold..” He buries his face in your neck.

“I’m okay Wrio, I don’t know what happened but, I’m here I’m fine,” You wrap your arms loosely around his torso. “Honestly I thought I was gonna die with you angry at me, but now I’m here. Getting pushed away hurt, but we’re both okay,” You mumble into his chest.

“I’ll never speak to you like that again, I don’t think I could ever live with myself knowing you left this world with me angry at you when I had no right to be. All you wanted was to make sure I was okay,” He pulls away and holds your face in his hands. “You’re my whole world and I should’ve held that in the front of my mind this whole time. I don’t think I can say sorry enough my love.” His sharp eyes now soft as he leans in to place a soft caring kiss on your lips.

“We’ll be okay,” you melt into his touch, letting him hold you close

[schoenpepper]

Fishies

Intro: In your dreams, this eel merman loves to bother you the most.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, Floyd is a warning in and of himself, mentions of homicide haha, reader is yuu, i dont think i followed the req very well my bad, u and floyd are like super totally normal besties i prommy ahaha no romance here nope no sir, not proofread im like super ded, the glitch text is funny to me, yandere floyd and reader if u like squint super hard

A/N: Updates are slowing down a lot, I know, I'm so so sorry. Unfortunately, my course and univ are kind of competitive, and as someone who hates studying, I've been forced to actually study. Gross, I know. This is for my 300 follower event, for @anonymousplant. I hope you like it.

Masterlist

You’re a pretty normal person, at least, you’d like to think so.

But starting from when you were 5 years old, you’ve had a permanent, recurring dream. You tell your parents of a rowdy merman that tends to linger in your subconscious: his sharp-toothed grin, his sparkly tail longer than his torso, his pretty fins that fluttered when you tried to touch them. They didn’t believe you when you said he really liked trying to squeeze you to death, though they comfort you when you break into their room in the middle of the night sobbing your little heart out.

Yeah, Floyd is an asshole.

That’s his name, or at least, what he told you. You’re not too inclined to debate him on that considering his fondness of wrapping his ridiculously long (and freakishly strong) tail around you, squeezing you at a moment’s notice.

You thank whatever deity is listening that you can breathe underwater in your dreams. He does not seem like the kind of guy who wouldn’t drown you. You know, for fun. Every night when you fall asleep, you ready yourself to meet with your imaginary friend (that’s what your parents called him, though you prefer the term imaginary acquaintance, at best).

“Shrimpy! You’re here, hehe~”

You look at him harshly with your arms crossed in front of your chest, “You’re never this happy to see me. What do you want, fishy?”

“Neh, shrimpy~” the sparkles in his two-colored irises bring about a sense of fear in you, “do you know what dreaming like this means?”

“That I made up a weird eel merman in my mind?”

“I’m not made up. Don’t be silly, shrimpy!” Floyd’s tail slithers in the water, coiling around your legs, “Jade and I learned about it yesterday. You’re my soulmate!”

Ten-year-old you woke up in a nervous start.

Ew!

Why would you ever, ever, be caught dead being with someone like Floyd?! He’s annoying, and a fish, and so if you got together you’d be a fish too! But you don’t want to be a fish!

Your parents are surprised to find you in a very snappy mood the following morning.

“You left so quick, shrimpy! You don’t wanna be my soulmate?”

You snatch an iridescent fish swimming by, turning it into a big plushie with your dream powers. “But you’re annoying,” you stick out your tongue, “so I don’t want to be your soulmate.”

“Eh…?”

You glance at Floyd. He doesn’t seem too happy with your words—in fact, his eyes are narrowed and he’s swimming slowly, closer and closer to you. “But I like you so much, shrimpy~” he says, but there’s no expression on his face. He’s so, so uncomfortably close that you need to lean back to avoid touching him, “you don’t get to choose your soulmate, y’know? So it’s not like you have a choice, hehe~ But if you really wanna be rid of me, I can always squeeze you ‘til your eyes pop! If you’re dead, you wouldn’t have a soulmate anymore. Shrimpy, aren’t I so nice?”

“You suck.”

You kick at the dream water and swim away from the giggling eel.

“Wanna play chase, shrimpy? Okay~”

He’s not too bad. At worst he’ll get cuteness aggression and suddenly wrap himself around you, but most times you’re just chatting endlessly with him about what he calls “weird human things”, and you pester him for details about “normal fish things”. He talks about his octopus friend that he refuses to call a friend, and how takoyaki is his favorite food in the same sentence. You talk about having to dissect a frog in science class which he found really funny somehow. He tells you about his twin brother and their shenanigans together. You tell him about how your parents, your friends—no one believes you when you say that Floyd’s real.

He says they’re lame.

You’ve learned to keep him a well-guarded secret lest your parents recommend a mental hospital again, but he must’ve stuck himself real close to your heart when he starts becoming inseparable from your mind.

He’s become a really good friend.

With Floyd, no moment is ever dull, even when you’re just sitting together on some dream-conjured rock, leaning on each other silently.

There is no second in a day in which you’re not thinking of him. Your favorite part of the day is going to sleep to see him each night, spending hours with his eccentric tendencies. The fish has become a very important part of your life.

(Your friends in school ask you who you like in a discussion about crushes. You ignore the fact that his name is on the tip of your tongue.)

He’s your best friend. There is no secret you can keep from him, because despite Floyd’s usual laissez-faire attitude, one change in your expression and he’s onto you. You’d thought you would go through your entire life with him as your constant, you really did.

On your sixteenth birthday, he’s gone.

Not that he disappeared, but rather, you can’t dream anymore. You wake up the next day with no memory of any dream, and it fills you with panic. Your stomach is churning like a void is forming inside—an integral part of yourself is missing and everything feels so, so wrong. You make your bed and head downstairs to eat breakfast. Your parents question your demeanor in concern for your well-being, and you force out a smile. You tell them you’re fine? There’s no need to worry them about the loss of your imaginary friend, right? You’re okay. Maybe this is the change you needed. You’ll be an adult soon, and you can’t dream of a weird eel merman forever.

No no n̷̥̜̐ơ̷͉̪ ̴͚̉̾n̷͚̥͒̓o̵͍̾̆ ̵͍͑n̷̩̝͐ő̵̟ ̶̛̈́ͅn̴̟̣͝͠ȍ̴̢̜ ̸̳̾ǹ̷̳̮ö̴̠́

Where is he?

Where is F̸̛̛̛͇͉̳̝̫̹͒̏͒͊̐͜ͅļ̸̪͈̞̱͓̰̖͌̽̉̔̐̇̃̃̏ó̶̻̯̪̭̐͋̏͛͒̈́̇̽ͅy̶̟̳̬͉̙̖̫̙̻̑̏̌̔̇͂̋̌̕d̷̝͕̣͖̺̬̦̟̂͊͜?̶̧̛͕͎̼͔̈́̆ Ẅ̶̟̗́͠ͅh̶̦̞͚͙̣͛ỳ̴̢͓͓̗͔̗͓̀̉́͋͜͝ ̸̹́͐̿͛ī̵̡̛͎̪̭͉̫̋s̷̢͇͗̏̔͑̿́̚͜ ̵̡̟̄̀̈̆̎̓͝ͅh̵͕̓͂̍̀̔̊̏́ę̶̹̝̘̙̪̗͊̽ ̸̮̟̞͇̭͕̫́̆̀͑̓͗͜͠g̵̙̰̽̔̈́̃́̓̋̐o̸͚̱̟̳̘̦̖̊͐̓ñ̷̨͕͉͈̱̮̲̟ȅ̷͓͙?̴͖͎̳͚̟̲͚̂̔́̔͝͝

Why has he left you...?

Your vacation to your grandmother’s house does nothing to ease your worries (but if she ever heard you sobbing your heart out alone in your room, she never said anything about it).

There’s an old mirror in your bedroom in your grandmother’s house, owned by your late great grandparents. The floor length mirror is encased in an intricate gold frame, and it’s not too obvious until one night when you’d found yourself staring at it in a daze, but the reflection is off. It’s tinged with a layer of purple light, translucent and barely visible unless you pay attention. You try to sleep (it’s been evading you for three days, since the night of your birthday), cozy in your fluffy blankets and a blue unicorn onesie that your grandma had bought to try to cheer you up.

You’re woken by a bright light.

Careful, tiptoed steps lead you in front of the mirror. Your fingertips graze over its surface when a sudden force pulls you in—right in front of a crowd of a few hundred students.

So that was your first day in NRC.

You’d say it was nothing particularly remarkable considering everyone in this place has some sort of superpower, but to be honest, they think you’re so intriguing because you’re magicless. In their eyes that made you weak.

Helpless.

NRC is just filled to the brim with budding sadists.

Your first night in NRC goes a lot different.

It’s uncomfortable. The blankets and sheets are old and scratchy. The entire place is in disarray. It’s filthy and dusty and you’re sure you’re one step away from falling right through the floorboards because of how creaky they are. But tiredness makes for the best sleeping aid, and you’re prepared for another night of nothing.

You miss Floyd.

It’s a big shock when you’re met with your most beloved dreamscape instead of the void. Cold water that chills you to the bone, schools of colorful fish just passing by. There’s a long tail wrapped around a boulder, connected to a swaying half-human who’s blankly staring at the jellyfish. It’s all so familiar that your feet have acted before your brain has; you’re right next to him again.

(It’s where you should be.)

“Shrimpy!”

His voice is a welcome sound. His squeezing though, not so much.

“Floyd—ack! Ow ow ow!”

You almost swear you hear your ribs crack at some point with the way his tail and arms are putting pressure on it, but he only loosens his hold. He doesn’t let go.

You don’t mind that he doesn’t want to.

“Shrimpy’s so mean, why’d you gotta go no contact like that? It’s been so boring! I was super bummed, didn’t even wanna leave my room for that lame ceremony. Did you sleep when I was awake or somethin’?” he whines mournfully into your hair, “I thought… tsk, I told you soulmates aren’t changeable. Were you tryin’ to stop dreaming again?”

“No, the dreams just stopped,” you reply softly. It’s so oddly comforting to be in his arms, it makes you sleepy even in your sleep.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You weren’t tryin’ to stop seeing me again?”

“I wasn’t. I promise.”

He hums, almost in relief.

(You don’t feel his lips gently, so gently, leaving a kiss on your neck where he’d buried his head. It’s so unlike him, but you make him act so weird.)

Grim wakes you up to look for breakfast in the cafeteria, and your time with your (platonic 💜) soulmate is over all too quickly. But something is stuck in your mind as you’re trudging through dimly lit halls with cat in tow. You knew the name Night Raven College rang a bell, but for it to be the very same school that Floyd had been ranting about for a year is just so unexpected.

(You’re finally in the same world.)

Then, is he here?

You didn’t manage to tell him about your most recent adventures last night. Maybe you should ask around and see if anyone can point you in the correct direction. At least, that was your original plan. Before an almost-burnt statue, a broken chandelier, two idiots who are actually really fun to hang out with, an abandoned mine with hostile ghosts…yeah. It takes you at least three more days before you remember to ask about Floyd in the school. You wanted it to be a surprise, so you kept it a secret from him. Though you probably should have expected that with all the mischief you’d gotten up to, your name was bound to reach his ears sooner or later.

“What the—?!”

“Ack!”

“Woah!”

Your first real meeting with Floyd starts with your cat and your friends being pushed to the ground in a pile.

“Shrimpy! You’re in my school! And you’re the funny student that’s been causing trouble? Now I’m annoyed I missed orientation for the freshies,” he does not hug any looser in his human form, “coulda’ seen you earlier. I coulda’ squeezed you earlier too~”

“Too tight, loosen up a bit please.”

“Okay~”

Ace and Deuce are looking up at you in shock with how casual you seem to be with him, but you pay their reactions no mind, only walking towards them with Floyd still wrapped around you, reaching out a hand to help them up.

(You don’t notice Floyd glower at the trio, or the way his hold tightens ever so slightly.)

They don’t take your hand, but you smile and introduce your best friend anyway. “Guys, this is Floyd. He and I have been in each other’s dreams since forever,” you pat Floyd’s arm that’s slung over your shoulder, “he says we’re soulmates but just ignore him, he’s kinda crazy. It’s probably some freak coincidence.”

“There you go again shrimpy, I thought we were over this? You still don’t believe me even now?”

“Soulmates don’t exist Floyd, don’t think about it too much. You know you’re still my best friend.”

(Ace and Deuce look at each other. Neither of them want to be the one to tell you—)

Soulmates are absolutely a thing.

And with the way that the big bad school bully, known for terrorizing at least half of the student population, is basically hanging off you, there was just no way that Floyd wasn’t completely and absolutely enamored by his cute, magicless little soulmate.

They should probably warn Grim that the eel merman wouldn’t be letting you sleep at Ramshackle tonight.

Or ever.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Agnus Dei - Kaz Brekker x Grisha!Reader

[vulgar language, unresolved grief]

SUMMARY: When one of his Crows is revealed to be a Grisha on the run from the Black General, Kaz needs to make a decision: their lives or hers?

WORDCOUNT: ~ 3.2k

[PART 2 RIGHT HERE]

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist&lt;<

Everything is going according to plan: the guards didn’t change their routes, the vault was where it was supposed to be, the lock combination Inej acquired worked, the necklace and documents were inside. And yet, you can’t help but feel that something is off as though you have forgotten a pair of socks when packing for a trip - a detail small and unimportant, while capable of making a substantial difference. Like an itch you can’t quite scratch.

A tremor shakes the manor down to its foundations. Dust and pebbles fall off the ceiling in an ominous cloud. Overhead crystal chandelier rings as the small gems clatter against one another.

Blyat.

There it is. 

“What was that?” Jesper asks an octave higher than he normally would have.

“The dynamite must have compromised the stability of the building,” Kaz says as his eyes trail the cracks forming along one of the walls. “We need to leave.”

“Are you saying-”

“Crushed to death, Jes,” you cut him off.

“Why can’t you ever give me a nice surprise? It’s always death and injury.”

You cross your arms on your chest. “Do I look like Ded Moroz?”

Jesper gives you a childish, playful smile. “I wish you did.”

“Come on,” Inej impatiently rushes the two of you. “You can biker when we’re out.”

Everyone follows Kaz, who weaves and turns through the palace corridors as though he knows them like the back of his hand. Considering how much time he had spent staring at the blueprints, it might well be true.

The tremors only grow in strength and frequency. The low hum of crumbling foundations is interrupted by the heavy, rushed footsteps of the guards. You are yet to run into them but considering they thunder somewhere above your heads, it’s only a matter of time before you look down the barrels of their muskets.

You jump to the side when a boulder falls next to you, a mere inch from crushing you. The muskets have to wait.

It’s hard to walk straight when the ground is shaking so much. Pieces of the ceiling and upper floors have you weaving and running into whatever hasn’t fallen yet.

“We won’t make it out in time!” you yell over the noise of crushing foundations and an avalanche of rubble coming your way.

“We will!” Kaz yells back. You’re unsure who he’s trying to convince more: himself, you or the decaying building. “Just go!”

“The entire ceiling’s coming down!” Another block of stone falls in your vicinity, throwing dust and ground bricks into the air. The flecks claw at your throat as you cough. Your eyes burn. “We need to find cover!”

Brekker stops. He lifts his head to look at the cracked bricks above the four of you. In the cloud of dust and refracted, dim light, you notice his face losing colour. 

“Hide!” he interposes. Jesper and Inej waste no time curling up underneath tables and fallen shelves.

You’re almost under a desk, sheltered from the rubble about to fall on your head but something stops you from seeking safety - sudden confusion at your own actions. The realization creeps up on you, making you surprised that at some point you really have forgotten that you don’t have to hide from overgrown pebbles and crushed chandeliers; at some point, you have truly believed the lie you’ve been telling everyone for so many years.

Time seems to slow down as you stare at the crumbling ceiling. You don’t breathe, your heart doesn’t beat. Just the rubble above you and the ringing in your ears. Something tingles in your fingertips when you absentmindedly rub them together.

Do it.

Your thoughts float towards the three Crows. Sure, they’re criminals but do they deserve to die for that? Should they perish, so you can take your secret to the grave? Casualties of war they didn’t wage?

Do it.

Perhaps this day was always coming.

Jesper pushes his head further between his knees, awaiting the final blow. But it doesn’t come. Hyperventilating and confused more than ever, he opens his eyes. The floor is covered with dust and pieces of bricks. Maybe he’s already suffered brain damage or maybe those pebbles and shards really were floating an inch above the ground.

“What in-” he whispers to himself.

The dust collecting in his lungs throws him into a coughing fit. He manages to get on his knees and stand up holding the desk he’d been sitting under. Jesper’s eyes meet Kaz and Inej, who appear just as confused at the fact that they’re still alive. Even more - not a stone threatened their well-being.

Inej suddenly gasps, vaguely pointing away from the three of them. The men’s gazes follow her hand right to the tip of her finger and that’s when they see it:

You’re standing a few meters away from their hiding spots, hands lifted over your head as though you were lifting something. Boulders and falling furniture hang mid-air, stopped by a mysterious violet flame pushing them away from the floor. With a small hop to the side, you swing your hands, making the rubble fly across the already-ruined hall. The remnants crush against the wall, breaking into smaller pieces before settling on the ground. Not a wrinkle, not even a bead of sweat runs down your skin when you turn around to look at them with guilt and apology painted all over your face.

Jesper is the first to break the silence of flabbergast:

“What was that?”

Inej stares at you with wide eyes, her lips slightly agape. "You're Kosomova.” It’s a statement, not a question. She seems to still be deciding between awe and disbelief. “The Lost Dynasty of Sankt Mikhail."

"What's dormant is not lost, Inej,” you say while awkwardly rubbing your hand. There’s no point in lying anymore. “It's just hidden."

You feel his stare boring into you but you don’t dare meet his eye. Just like this beautiful manor, the foundation of his trust has crumbled. It’s hard to estimate the damage and the prospect of whether it is possible to raise the palace once more. Perhaps he’s silent for now but you know this knot must be untied; a cast-aside viper always slithers back to bite.

The boulders and furniture you threw at the wall have breached it in a rather impressive manner. You can leave and disappear in the crowd before the guards even get to this part of the building. There is something positive to barely escaping death, after all.

"Mikhail?” Jesper repeats, his eyebrows furrowed. Walking through a gaping hole in the wall, he squints his eyes when daylight hits his face. “As in Mikhail the Unbowed? Didn't the Black General issue a bounty on his whole bloodline?"

"And it keeps growing every year or so,” you say indifferently while dusting the flecks of bricks and stone off your dark clothes. “Honestly, I'm kind of flattered he thinks I'm worth seven figures in Kruge."

People of Ketterdam stop by, look at the palace and then at you, only to shrug and carry on with their daily lives. Something about the malice residing in the air of this city makes everyone aloof to the plight of others. Most of the time you think of this tendency as wretched and heartless but today you can’t be grateful enough. Soon, all four of you are part of the uninterested, grey crowd flooding the cobbled streets. 

“But why?" Jesper coaxes, "What did you do?”

“I control gravity, making me a catalyst for any summoner,” you answer quietly in case someone can hear your conversation.

“Make or break the Fold,” Inej interjects.

“Probably, yeah.”

But his curiosity is not satiated just yet: “He already has the Sun Summoner. What does he want with you?”

Suddenly, you stop walking and Jesper almost runs into you. You look at your friend with a morbid seriousness he has never seen from you before.  “A man as ambitious as him will not stop at the Fold. He could turn the whole world into his own empire with me and the Sun Summoner at his service. Mountains will bow before him, oceans will separate so he can pass. No one should have that power.” Your gaze lowers, too ashamed to meet any of the faces staring hard at you. “Make arrangements to flee Ketterdam,” you interpose before taking a few steps backwards. A turn, a rushed step, a rounded corner and suddenly you’re gone as though you were never there.

The stairs creak under someone’s weight. Irregular footsteps grow steadily louder until you hear a soft whine of the hinges as the guest pushes your door open. 

"You're leaving."

Hearing Kaz’s voice makes you stop in your tracks for a second, hands filled with clothes and trinkets hover right above the bag. A sting in your chest, that you wave away; you can’t get hung up on your feelings, not now. Not when they inevitably lead to tears.

"Once the news travels across the Fold, the Black General will be here in no time,” you say without looking at him. With a newfound will to get away as quickly as you can, you continue packing up a lot faster than you did before. “Promise me that you will do everything to survive that. Sell me out, I don't care. Just promise me you will be fine."

"When were you going to tell me, Kosomova?"

Surprised, you drop the utility belt you were about to toss on top of the heap of clothes already in the bag. The hint of angry disappointment, a bitter betrayal, in his voice makes your heart break.

You give him a quick glance, only to pick up the belt and resume packing as though you’re absolutely fine with this strange situation.

"Please, don't call me that, Kaz.” No matter how unbothered you want to seem, he’s a bit too observant not to notice the pleading tone hiding between words.

"It’s your name."

You let out a sigh. Standing up and straightening your back, you finally dare to divert most of your attention to him. Face-to-face, as befits something between companions and colleagues.

"I haven't been Kosomova in over a decade. The life I lead and the people I'm grateful to love, I've done all of this as Zavrazhny. So that is my name.” Your eyes escape his face for a moment when you feel embarrassed at your own naivety. “And I wasn't going to tell you. Ever.” Awkwardly rubbing your arm, you look at him once more. To your own horror, his expression doesn’t falter, stuck in this indifferent frown he wears most of the time. What is he thinking about? “It was stupid of me to think I could actually escape my ancestry but a girl can dream."

Too ashamed to look at his face any longer, your gaze falls to the floor. Maybe this day was always coming. 

You fasten the bag and throw it over your shoulder. It’s grown heavy since the last time, pulling you down with the weight of both your useless souvenirs and the memories they hold. Some of them you can probably sell for a nice price, earning you a night of rest on something better than a haystack.

When you’re about to walk past Kaz and out of your room, surely to disappear from Ketterdam and resurface on the other side of the world with a new name and backstory, he suddenly lifts his cane in front of you. Frustrated, you look at the symbolic blockade and only then at him.

Turning his head to the side to look at you, his gaze appears even angrier than before. "You are not going anywhere,” Kaz nearly grits through his teeth.

Why won’t he just let you go?

Your voice is equally low when you answer him. "This isn't the bloody time to play broody and bossy, Kaz. I'm endangering the entirety of Ketterdam with my presence, I'm-...” you stop yourself from finishing the sentence, wondering if you really want to float along this wave of honesty. He slightly lifts his eyebrows, egging you to continue. Your voice is suddenly very quiet, as though you’re afraid someone else might hear you too. “I'm putting you at risk. And I can't have that."

"Have you any idea how much I have invested in you?" The stress he puts on the word is odd as though there is a hidden meaning behind it - one he can’t quite make himself say outright. You feel your chest tighten at the realization. It’s not a monetary value he’s speaking of. No, it’s something he’s too afraid to name correctly even inside his own head. "You're staying here, even if I have to make you."

You shake your head. "I don't want everyone sticking out their necks for me. It's not worth dying for. I'm not worth dying for. Save yourself, Kaz. This is not your fight."

"If it’s you the Black General is after, it is my fight."

His intense gaze makes you break out a flustered smile. "You have a very strange way of saying you care about me, you know?"

Reprieving your decision to flee, you toss the bag back on your bed. Kaz follows your movements with a questioning look on his face as you drop onto the chair by your working table. He thinks the scattered papers on your desk and notes pinned to the wall are very befitting - mind working faster than a steam train, albeit slightly chaotic.

For a moment you’re not saying anything. Slouched and with a vacant look in your eyes, your whole persona just screams defeat. None of the three Crows has seen you like this before, making you realize that this unusual demeanour is going to change a lot on its own. Once shown vulnerability can never be taken back, for the better or worse.

"I’ve never told you how I got here in the first place, have I?" you ask. Kaz catches your gaze once more, only to realise something about it has changed. The fire that once resided inside you is nowhere to be found, its place taken by something chilling and haunting. "Around a decade ago, the Black General caught wind of my family. We knew he was coming. One day, my mother packed all of my belongings and told me to leave. I won't ever forget that look on her face - the anger, the shame, the guilt…” Unknowingly, you raise your eyebrows and shake your head slightly. As grief’s fangs gnaw at you, her face appears before your eyes like a mirage; someone’s reflection on the surface of disturbed waters. “She grabbed my shoulders and said 'Forget your pedigree. You have to go out there, see the world, live how you want and be who you want. This family has suffered enough.' So I did. I didn't hear from her ever again. When I was boarding a ship from Novokribirsk to Ketterdam, I overheard the sailors talking about a slaughtered village in the woods. And I knew…” You take in a ragged breath, feeling emotions flooding your head. Even after a decade, this wound hurts just the same. “I knew I couldn't go back. There was nothing to go back to, so I moved forward. It was the only direction left."

It’s too late. You can’t stop it. Tears sting your eyes and you look away from Kaz, grasping at the serious and professional demeanour you’re so desperate to keep. Alas, it has escaped your shaky hands.

A sob violently shakes your body. You have to cover your mouth with your hand to stop the sounds of agony from reaching his ears.

“She died alone, Kaz,” you whisper in a weak voice. Anguish clenches your throat, making you unable to breathe for a moment. Tears stream down your face, salty taste on your tongue. “Rotting in the middle of the woods because there was no one to bury her. Abandoned.”

“If you were there, you would have died, too.” His tone is strangely gentle but you don’t notice it at the moment.

He grips his cane tighter when you look at him with red, glossy eyes. “You can’t know that.”

“Then the Black General would kill your mother just to get to you.”

“Maybe he’d spare her if I agreed to go with him. Or I would have killed him.” You take in a deep although ragged breath, trying to calm yourself down. Kaz wishes he could do something. With the sleeve of your coat, you wipe your face. “She died because I ran, didn’t she? So, maybe if I stay… Maybe I have a chance at redemption.”

“Her death wasn’t your fault.”

Your eyes snap back to his face. They’re still red but not sad anymore. No, something strange clouds them, something Kaz sees only when he looks in the mirror. “But yours will be if I don’t get my shit together. I can’t just keep running. It’s not who I want to be.”

“If you kill General Kirigan you will be running for the rest of your life.”

“I’ll be doing it anyway. Might as well earn the right to the name Kosomova.”

Suddenly, you rummage through the plethora of pockets you have in your layers of clothing. Something gold glints between your fingers but it’s so quick he can’t even begin to guess what you’re holding in your palm when you offer it to him.

“Kaz, I want you to have something. Just in case anything happens to me.”

You open your hand to reveal an antique pocket watch. It looks worn out, a thin layer of verdigris discolouring the keepsake. Golden coating lost its shine and the decorative engravings are nearly completely smoothed out as though someone had been rubbing its surface. For good luck, perhaps. Although barely visible, three cursive letters on the front are still legible: K. M. V. 

Kosomov Mikhail Victorovich

Kaz takes the pocket watch, for a moment examining your face in detail. Do you not expect to survive the Black General? Or perhaps this is a token of your trust if not affection? 

He gently presses the button on top of the watch and the lid pops open. On the right side is the face of a clock but the hands aren’t moving. Judging by the engraving on the front, the watch has to be several centuries old, making it impossible to say when exactly the mechanism has given out. His gaze follows to the other side of the keepsake, where a message was crudely carved out with something sharp: Я ранен был, но не упал.

“I was wounded but didn’t fall,” you quote. “It’s a family motto.”

Kaz closes the watch with a loud clasp. His gaze returns to you and for a moment you think there’s a shadow of dread dancing across his irises. Then his face turns nearly into a scowl. What fine smithing it really is, to reforge affection into anger.

“Make sure you stick to it,” he orders while stuffing the keepsake in his pocket. “We need a plan.”

“How much time do you think we have?”

“A week at most.”

A half-smile crooks your lips. “Then let’s make it count.”

______

Yes, there will be part 2.

[youuuimeanmee]

SxF Chapter 95 Thoughts

The drought is over.

And HOLY MOLY

AAAAAA I know we're nearing the end-semester gala but I never thought we'd get it on THIS chapter AAAADHJDJSKDN

When I saw the chapter is 21-pages long, I made sure to savor it well sskskjs

"Guardians will not be attending the gala." DAMMIT. Oh wait, Twillight can just disguise himself as a volunteer. I forgot.

Lol this is really not good for Damian's poor little heart.

WOHOO Becky cute!!

Huh, looks like Henry and Martha had a history together. Maybe they used to be classmates in Eden? Or something else, maybe.

The party is different than I expected. I thought ALL students will mingle in one place. I thought we'd meet Demetrius here. Oh well.

Damn this is depressing. Reassignation class based on academic performances. It's really happening. Anya will be separated from Becky. Hopefully their classroom will not be that far off 🥲

Damn Damian. Looking fine there, like a true young chaebol.

ANYA IS CUTE!! She's a princess!! 😭💕 I was surprised with her hair, I thought she'd keep the haircones. It's almost like as long as the little bundle of her hair is protected, any hairstyle is fine. Her dress though... It's darker than I expected; I thought she'd go with light color. But this is fine too. She's cute either way. (lowkey reminds me of a little witch, lol). It's also cute how she and Damian looks matching with black-and-white outfits, hehe. (Then again, this is b&w manga. Will their outfits have different color in the colored illlustration?)

Nicee Ewen, you do know when to give credits when it's due.

Nah Damian you're just making up shit now. You have excellent eyes, you know her dress is not cheap.

Of course Damian would fo anything for any imperial-scholar related. Cute.

Now this is interesting.

Some people say it's a reference to Harry Potter, so I wonder if some of it will turn out to be true. Especially the last two: "the cursed underground maze in section 4" and "the sealed chamber in the tower of wisdom." Sounds like hella suspicious places for a school filled with top political figures in the country. What if those are the places Donovan entered often? Hmmm. *sus glance* Wonder if DamiAnya gang will tackle the 7 mysteries like in Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun and see something they shouldn't see like in Promised Neverland, lol.

Anya, you got this! It's the name you learned in the school's interview! She already forgot, lol. But at least she got the "Ben" right!

Wonder if any of these kids will become Anya's new classmate, lol. Endo really used his break time brainstorming new characters here.

OMG IM DED. Narcis Hubrisse. Brayzen. These fucking fitting names I swear 🤣🤣🤣

Yesss you go Becky. Set your standard high. Don't mingle yourself with these lowly boys.

YAAASS. A GENTLEMAN ASKING ANYA OUT. YOU GO BOY. Even if it's a facade at least it's better than these Hubrisse and Brayzen boys.

OH.MY.GOD. FFFUUUUCKKK AJDNSKDBKDJDJSKHDUDJXNJDKDHDJJSJKSJSJSYEEEESSSSSS

HE'S HEREE HE'S FUCKING HERE. His hairstyle is ugly but HE'S HERE. I was wondering if we're gonna meet him soon. I was righttt, he iss gonna be a recurring character. I mean look at the name reveal from chapter 93. Look at that damn edgy hair. Hopefully he will be Anya's new classmate. But I never thought he'd put an interest in her as a runner-up in the classical language test. What is his background? How is he so good with the classical languange to even reach 90-ish points even though it's rarely taught? Does he have a connection with Anya with his gift in classical language and weird hairstyle? Why does he have such unsettling bow tie? I need to knooww

And he even pull off such a strong reaction from Damian too, skskjsksk. 2nd ML candidate? Lmao

Good to know Arnold's family is B tier. Not bad.

Twillightt you got soft. Letting Anya and Damian do whatever they want? What happen to the mission?

Lowkey sad to see Anya trying hard because Twillight didn't trust she would do a good job in plan B.

Oh mah gahh these preciouss kiddss 😭True homiess 😭😭💕💕

At least this will ensure Anya to get her place fair and square.

I wonder if Twillight realize Anya is approaching Damian for the sake of world peace she mentioned. Or he's simply motivated with Anya's motivation.

But at this rate, the dance will be over the moment Damian got his partner, lmaoo

Great comeback chapter! 🔥🔥🔥

*Edit: Screw what I said that Arnold might be the 2nd ML. I don't trust his hairstyle, his droopy eyes, his bow tie, and his polite manners. So far we've seen only adorable children but he could be evil for all we know. Better be cautious than sorry.*

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

15. Maknae Down

Note: the anon person who requested this scene, show urself cuz this is for u👍

Masterlist here

(Damn she is ded)

It started with a loud, echoing sneeze—a sharp, drawn-out sound that filled the entire dorm and was immediately followed by a groan of frustration. Y/n looked up from his spot on the couch, where he had been lazily scrolling through his phone, and saw Ningning curled up under a massive blanket on the other side of the room. Her hair was messy, and her eyes were red from what he could only assume was a cold.

Guess the cold decided to transfer from Y/n to Ningning today.

“Ning,” he called out, watching as she struggled to get comfortable in her blanket cocoon. “You good?”

“No,” she sniffled dramatically. “I think I’m dying.”

He raised an eyebrow, getting up to walk over to her. “Dying? Really? From a cold?”

Ningning glared up at him, her face flushed from fever, her nose runny, and tissues piled up next to her. “Yes, really! You wouldn’t understand. It feels like my entire body is shutting down.”

Y/n rolled his eyes, half-amused as he pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Let me guess—you left the window open last night?”

Ningning’s eyes widened in surprise. “How’d you know?”

“Girl, you always do that when it’s too hot,” Y/n sighed. “But Ning, it’s winter. Having the window open while the fan’s on full blast? Genius.”

Ningning groaned, burying her face in the blanket. “It was fine until I fell asleep, and then when I woke up… well, I felt like this. I swear the weather’s out to get me.”

“Well, congratulations,” Y/n chuckled, mocking her with a single clap. “You’ve officially caught a cold.”

“Wow, thank you, Jung Y/n-psssssss” Ningning blew her nose.

“I know you love me too much, tryna copy me when I was sick last time”

Before Ningning could retort, Karina, Winter, and Giselle entered the living room, dressed and ready for their schedules. Karina took one look at Ningning’s disheveled state and sighed. “You’re staying in today, aren’t you?”

Ningning nodded miserably. “Yeah… you guys go on without me, unnie.”

Giselle, clearly annoyed, huffed, “Great, we’ll be the ones running around while you sit here like a burrito all day.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing,” Ningning shot back, trying to maintain her usual sass, but her voice was too nasally to come off intimidating.

Winter leaned down, placing a hand on Ningning’s forehead. “You do feel warm. Stay put and rest, okay? Don’t make our idiot's life more difficult than it already is.”

Y/n snorted. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this covered. You guys go handle idol life. Minji-noona is downstairs.”

Karina glanced between the two of them, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, but if she gets any worse, call us. And make sure she doesn’t convince you to do anything ridiculous.”

“I make no promises, mom” Y/n joked, giving them a half-hearted salute as they waved goodbye and headed out the door.

Once the apartment was quiet again, Y/n turned to Ningning, who was now staring at the TV screen in front of them. He grabbed the remote and lazily flipped through the channels. “So, what now? Want to binge-watch some K-dramas or something?”

Ningning perked up slightly at the suggestion, her eyes lighting up for the first time since this morning. “Yes! You haven’t watched ‘True Beauty’, right?”

Y/n groaned. “Oh, c’mon. Isn’t that one of those sappy romance dramas? I thought you were more into action stuff.”

Ningning pouted, crossing her arms. “I AM into action stuff, but ‘True Beauty’ is ICONIC, okay? Besides, you need to catch up on your K-drama knowledge, oppa.”

“Can’t we watch something else? Like “Space Sweeper” or something?”

“No!” Ningning shouted, the sickness momentarily left her. “I’m sick today, so I rule!”

With a dramatic sigh, Y/n flipped to the streaming service and put on the first episode. “Fine, but I’m only doing this because you’re sick. You owe me.”

“Deal,” she mumbled, snuggling deeper into the blanket. “But I’m warning you, you’ll get addicted. Don’t say I didn’t tell you.”

As the first episode played, Ningning provided commentary for every dramatic moment. Y/n, despite his earlier protests, found himself getting a little too invested in the story. By the third episode, he was sitting up straight, eyes glued to the screen, reacting alongside Ningning to every twist and turn.

“See? I told you it’s good!” Ningning giggled, nudging him with her elbow. “You’re hooked, aren’t you?”

“Okay, fine,” Y/n admitted, his face scrunched up. “It’s better than I expected. But seriously, how do they make every scene so intense?”

“That’s K-drama magic,” Ningning replied, sniffling again as she wiped her nose. After a beat, her voice softened. “It’s kind of nice… watching these with someone.”

Y/n glanced at her, sensing the sudden shift in her mood. “Yeah, it’s fun. We don’t get much downtime to just hang out like this.”

Ningning hummed in agreement, staring at the screen with a distant look. “I miss it sometimes, you know? Just being at home, watching shows with my mom. I’ve been away for so long… sometimes it hits me harder than I think it will.”

Y/n’s chest tightened at her words. He’d always known that the idols dealt with homesickness, but hearing it so plainly from Ningning made it feel more real. He hesitated for a moment before placing a hand on her head, ruffling her hair gently.

“I get it,” he said quietly. “While I can't say that I'm the same as you, I can say that you got your second family here, right? Your unnie-dul, me… maybe?"

"Of course you are in there!" Ningning groaned, her usual annoyed yet adorable tone began to recover.

"Aight, aight…but we got your back, Ning-ah."

Ningning smiled, her eyes glassy but grateful. “Yeah, you guys make it a lot easier. Especially when you let me make you binge-watch K-dramas.”

“That's Y/n's package for you,” Y/n chuckled, trying to lighten the mood again. “I’m just here for moral support and terrible TV commentary.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the soft glow of the TV flickering across their faces. Eventually, Ningning shifted, resting her head on Y/n’s shoulder.

“You’re not as bad as I thought you’d be,” she murmured sleepily.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Y/n replied with a small grin. "You're more fun to hang out than I thought."

Just as Ningning started to drift off, the front door opened, and the other members trudged back into the dorm, looking tired but relieved to be home. They paused when they saw Ningning and Y/n on the couch, Ningning now fully passed out, her head still resting against his shoulder.

“Looks like the patient’s finally knocked out,” Winter whispered with a smirk.

Y/n gave a thumbs up. “Mission cleared. Though I’m not sure who’s more tired—me or her.”

Karina grinned, walking over and gently draping an extra blanket over Ningning. “Thanks for looking after her. I knew we could count on you.”

“No problem,” Y/n said, feeling the weight of the day finally catch up to him. “Let’s hope she’s better tomorrow.”

As they quietly gathered around, the dorm filled with the familiar warmth of friendship. Even though Ningning had caught a cold, it felt like one of those rare moments where everything was just… okay.

-

A few days had passed since Ningning's cold turned the dorm into a temporary clinic. She was back to her usual self—energetic, mischievous, and constantly teasing the other members. Y/n was glad to see her better, though he missed the quiet moments they had shared while binge-watching ‘True Beauty’.

It was a Saturday morning when Ningning barged into Y/n's room, her signature grin plastered across her face. She clapped her hands together excitedly, bouncing on her toes. “Y/n-oppa! Get up, get dressed! We’re going out!”

Y/n, still half-asleep and wrapped in his blanket like a burrito, blinked up at her in confusion. “Huh? Where are we going?”

“Just get ready!” she said, pulling the blanket off him with a mischievous tug. “It’s a surprise. You did a lot for me when I was sick, so I’m treating you today!”

Y/n groaned, rubbing his eyes. “Ning, it’s too early for surprises. Can’t we just chill?”

“Nope!” she insisted, practically dragging him out of bed. “You’ll thank me later. Now hurry up or I’ll pick out your outfit for you.”

That was enough to get Y/n moving. The last time Ningning had chosen his clothes, he ended up in a neon green jacket and pants combo that made him look like a human highlighter. He wasn’t going to let that happen again.

“Are you paying for everything?”

“That’s right, I’m your sugar mommy for today, oppa!”

Y/n facepalmed. “Ning, please never repeat that again.”

-

As they left the dorm, Ningning pulled out her phone and snapped a quick selfie of them both, sending it straight to the group chat.

Ningning:

Taking Y/n out for a day of fun! Wish us luck, ladies 😉.

Within seconds, the responses started flooding in.

Winter:

Oh boy, this ought to be good. Don’t kill him, Ning!

Giselle:

I’m keeping track of this. Take lots of photos.

Karina:

Stay out of trouble, you two.

Ningning giggled, stuffing her phone back into her pocket. “Let the adventure begin!”

-

A little over an hour later, they were out the door and wandering through one of the city’s many bustling shopping districts. Ningning was in full tour guide mode, pointing out random shops, food stalls, and people as they walked.

“First stop,” she declared with a grin, “the arcade!”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the neon lights and the sound of beeping machines. “You dragged me out of bed for video games?”

“Yup,” Ningning said proudly. “Consider it payback for watching ‘True Beauty’ with me while I was half-dead. Besides, I know you secretly love this stuff.”

She quickly pulled out her phone again, snapping a picture of Y/n standing in front of the arcade and sending it to the group chat.

Ningning:

First stop: arcade. Y/n thinks he’s gonna beat me at these games. He’s so cute when he’s wrong.

Y/n peeked over her shoulder, groaning. “You’re sending updates to the others?”

“Of course!” Ningning laughed. “How else are they going to keep track of your inevitable losses?”

"Oh don't test me, Yizhuo." Y/n rolled up his sleeves.

With those words, the two of them spent hours bouncing from game to game. Ningning was surprisingly skilled at racing games, and Y/n couldn't stop himself from getting competitive during skee-ball.

At one point, Ningning managed to win a stuffed animal from a claw machine, rubbing it in Y/n's face with exaggerated pride.

“Beginner’s luck,” Y/n muttered, trying (and failing) to win his own prize.

“Sure, sure,” Ningning teased, snapping a photo of him concentrating hard on the claw machine. She sent it to the group chat with the caption:

Ningning:

Y/n’s face when he loses... again.

Winter:

LOL, poor idiot. How many tries is that now?

Karina:

He’s got that determined look... Go easy on him, Ning.

-

After a few more games and much teasing, they decided to take a break at a nearby café inside the arcade. Ningning pulled out her phone once more, sending a final picture of Y/n with a pile of stuffed animals they had won (mostly Ningning’s doing).

Ningning:

Look at our haul! Aren’t we the best team ever?

Winter:

Nice! But you sure it wasn’t all your work, Ning?

Karina:

I see a lot of plushies there. Are you guys going to share?

Y/n shook his head, laughing as he sipped his drink. “You really enjoy teasing me, don’t you?”

Ningning smiled sweetly. “Only because you’re so easy to tease.”

“…all I know is that Jeong will annoy me like you do right now when we get home.”

Ningning grinned slyly. “Oh, speaking of Minjeong-unnie…”

Y/n shot her a wary look. “What about that crybaby?”

“Well,” Ningning said, her voice dripping with mischief, “she’s been acting a bit... different lately, don’t you think?”

Y/n furrowed his brows, trying to play it off casually. “What do you mean by ‘different’?”

Ningning stopped at a snack stall, buying them both some skewered tteokbokki, and turned to Y/n with a teasing grin. “Oh, come on! You know what I’m talking about. Ever since we teased her about setting you up on a date, she’s been a little... defensive.”

Y/n nearly choked on his tteokbokki. “Defensive? No way. She's just—”

Ningning interrupted, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Face it, Y/n-oppa. She got jealous.”

“Jealous?” Y/n scoffed, though the thought made his stomach flip in a way he wasn’t ready to admit. “That girl is not the jealous type. She’s just... stupid.”

“Sure, sure,” Ningning said, clearly enjoying his reaction. “Keep telling yourself that. But the way she’s been acting lately? I think someone might have a little crush on our dear manager.”

Y/n rolled his eyes, trying to shake off the teasing. “Aish, you’re binging too much K-drama now.”

“Am I though?” Ningning smirked, taking another bite of her snack. “Because if you ask me, she’s got a soft spot for you. You should’ve seen her face the other day when you went to the gym without her.”

Y/n felt a heat rising to his cheeks that had nothing to do with the spicy tteokbokki. “That’s because we’re all friends. We hang out. It’s normal.”

“Mhmm,” Ningning hummed in that infuriatingly knowing way of hers. “Whatever you say. Let's go back and beat you again."

"Tsk. I'll win everything on this second set. Ms. Yizhuo." Y/n flared up.

-

After the massive win from Ningning, the youngest dragged Y/n to a few more places—a dessert café where they shared a massive bowl of patbingsu, a photo booth where they took ridiculous selfies, and even a random bookstore where Ningning insisted on picking out a K-drama guidebook as a joke.

Y/n had to admit, it was fun. It felt like a proper break from the usual hectic schedules and responsibilities. Although the constant update to their group chat felt like a child updating his mom about his whereabouts.

As the afternoon wore on, they finally made their way to the park, where Ningning collapsed onto a bench, fanning herself dramatically. “I think we’ve officially walked the entire city. How are you not tired?”

Y/n chuckled, leaning back on the bench beside her. “I was tired when you dragged me out of bed this morning. Now I’m just used to it.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching as the sun dipped lower in the sky. Y/n glanced over at Ningning, who was unusually quiet.

“You okay?” he asked, noticing the thoughtful expression on her face.

Ningning nodded slowly, but her usual brightness had dimmed. “Yeah, just... I guess I’m feeling a little homesick again. It comes and goes, you know?”

Y/n felt a pang of sympathy. He knew how hard it was for the girls (especially Ningning and Giselle) to be away from their families, especially with their demanding schedules. “I get it. It’s tough. But we're here for you.”

Ningning smiled softly, her eyes a little misty. “Yeah, I know. You guys are the best. But sometimes I miss the little things—like my mom’s cooking or just lounging around at home, not having to worry about schedules and performances.”

Y/n nodded. “I think everyone misses home sometimes. It doesn’t go away, but I guess that’s what makes coming back to it even better when you do.”

“…it’s weird that you do make sense from time to time.”

“I am not that big of an idiot.” Y/n nudged. “But if you miss your mom’s cooking, ask her the recipe of any dish and I’ll try to learn it.”

“Really?” Ningning’s hope went off the roof. “Is that ok?”

“Mhm” Y/n patted her head. “I am your manager, at least, and I’ll be your brother, at most.”

Ningning leaned her head on Y/n’s shoulder, her voice small. “Thanks, Y/n-oppa. For everything. Today was fun.”

He smiled, resting his head against hers. "…this will DEFINITELY be on Dispatch tomorrow."

"Aish, shush it. I'm tired, oppa" Ningning accepted that she will never escape from Y/n's annoying retort.

Y/n chuckled. “Anytime, Ning. You deserve it.”

They stayed like that for a while, just enjoying the quiet moment as the city buzzed around them. Eventually, Ningning perked up again, a mischievous glint back in her eyes.

“Oh, and by the way,” she said with a smirk, “don’t think I’ve forgotten about Mindoogie. You know she’s going to be extra nosy when we get back, right?”

Y/n groaned. “Can we not?”

“Nope,” Ningning giggled, standing up and stretching. “It’s too much fun watching you squirm.”

As they made their way back to the dorm, Y/n couldn't help but wonder if Ningning had a point about Winter. The thought lingered in his mind, but for now, he was just happy that Ningning was back to her usual self. And if teasing him about Winter made her day a little better, then he could live with that—for now.

[stressed-and-fluff-obsessed]

If you’re still doing requests/no pressure but what about Charlie finding out that Vaggie’s new wings are ticklish when she tries to help her preen them?

Oh my goodness I love this one!

Preening Problems

Summary: After recently getting her wings back Vaggie doesn’t remember how to preen them when they get out of shape, Charlie helps her out

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Charlie watched in concern as Vaggie trudged around the parlor, seemingly in pain or discomfort but Charlie couldn’t figure out why and didn’t want to pry.

Vaggie had recently gotten her wings back when she went to train with Carmilla and now that the battle with the exorcists was over they had time to relax.

Charlie wasn’t lying either, Vaggie’s wings were beautiful but they looked a little bent out of shape. Feathers stuck out left and right, the shiny white and silver color had dulled significantly and they seemed a lot more twitchy than usual, it concerned Charlie.

But she didn’t know what to do! She knew Lucifer was a fallen angel but he was miles away on a business trip so he was out. So what else could she do?

When Vaggie finished trudging around the parlor like a zombie, she had retreated back to her room likely to rest so Charlie took that as her opportunity to go up to her own room and quickly jump on her computer to do some research.

Charlie acted quickly since she didn’t know what was happening to Vaggie she wanted to figure it out quickly, she surfed the news station, asked around to her friends but still nothing, Charlie was at her wits end for now.

With a defeated sigh Charlie closed her laptop and looked at the time, she had been internet surfing for two hours now so she pushed herself from her desk and walked over to her bed, kicking off her shoes and grabbing KeeKee, sliding under the covers with the cat.

“I don’t know what to do KeeKee. I’ve never seen this before and I’m worried it’s hurting her.” Charlie told the small cat who placed a paw on Charlie’s arm reassuringly before going to sleep but that gave Charlie an idea, “You’re right KeeKee, I should probably sleep, I’ll look into this some more tomorrow, goodnight!” Charlie smiled before going to sleep.

~*~

Charlie stood, already ready for the day and ready to tackle whatever she needed to do to find out what was wrong with Vaggie. She placed her chin in her hand in thought, thinking who she could ask to help. “Alastor doesn’t have wings so he wouldn’t know, Niffty is too small to help, Angel irritates Vaggie, my dad is miles away so who..” Charlie muttered to herself before the lightbulb went off, “Husk…Husk has feathered wings! He can help!” Charlie exclaimed excitedly, spooking KeeKee who was still in the room.

Quickly she rushed downstairs and immediately spotted Husker at the bar cleaning a bottle while chatting with Niffty. “Husk I need to talk to you!” Charlie called from the top of the stairs catching the bartender’s attention as he looked to meet her eye, watching her as she raced down the stairs.

“Hey Niff I think I saw a roach down that hall earlier why don’t you go kill it.” Husk told the little maid who excitedly jumped up and scurried down the hall to go find it as Husk turned back to Charlie who had already reached his bar out of breath.

“What is it princess? You seem to be in quite the rush.” Husk asked her, still cleaning the bottle. “I am Husk and I have a question, do your wings ever get bent out of shape? Like feathers sticking out or them dulling or getting more twitchy?” Charlie asked the bartender who hummed in understanding.

“This is about Vaggie isn’t it? Yes that happens to wings all the time, even mine. We have to preen them. It’s a lil embarrassing so I won’t tell you about it but you can look it up if you want kid.” Husk answered, smiling softly as Charlie’s face lit up.

“Thank you Husk!” Charlie called over her shoulder as she raced upstairs and jumped back onto her computer looking for a video on how to preen a pair of wings.

After watching the video Charlie deduced that it didn’t seem that difficult and made her way to Vaggie’s room. When she arrived she knocked softly on the door, waiting for a moment before hearing a sound that sounded like someone dragging themselves out of bed and winces of pain that made Charlie’s heart clench in sympathy.

A few seconds later a very uncomfortable looking Vaggie opened the door and her face brightened a little when she saw Charlie, “Charlie! Come in.”Vaggie answered, stepping out of the way to let Charlie in who settled on a nearby chair as Vaggie settled on her bed.

“Vaggie we need to talk about your wings.” Charlie spoke up, feeling sympathetic as Vaggie flinched at the mention of her wings, drawing them close but wincing when she did so.

“Vaggie it’s okay you don’t need to be embarrassed, I asked Husk about it and watched some videos so I know what to do if you’ll allow me?” Charlie asked, hope present in her voice as Vaggie averted her gaze seeming to consider it before nodding and turning around, snickering softly as she heard Charlie’s excited gasp.

“It’s not that big of a deal babe.” Vaggie chuckled, hearing a: “it is to me!” from behind her before wincing quickly as she felt Charlie’s hands come into contact with her wings, “Sorry sorry!” She heard Charlie yell from behind her, “It’s fine babe but please take care of them.” Vaggie asked, extending the feathered appendages as much as she could.

She heard a grateful hum from Charlie before she got to work, picking out the broken feathers and rearranging the out of place ones, not rushing at all and taking her time to do the job right.

The two of them sat in comfortable silence, Vaggie slowly relaxing as Charlie patiently preened her wings, giggling a little when she removed a broken feather and Vaggie ruffled her wings as if the say thanks for getting rid of that persistent feather.

“How’d you learn to do this so well babe?” Vaggie asked Charlie, humming in approval as Charlie removed another painful feather, “Lots of videos.” Charlie deadpanned making Vaggie chuckle.

They sat in silence for a little while longer before Vaggie suddenly yelped and Charlie’s hands quickly retracted, “Oh my gosh I’m so so so sorry did I hurt you?!” Charlie frantically apologized, stopping when Vaggie grabbed her wrist, “I’m fine Charlie I’m just..a little sensitive.” Vaggie explained, face heating up as Charlie processed those words. When it finally clicked Charlie grinned like a child and an excited gasp escaped her making Vaggie chuckle.

“Your wings are ticklish?!” Charlie exclaimed excitedly, “Yeah” Vaggie answered as Charlie turned her back around. “I’ll try to be more careful.” Charlie told her but the teasing edge to her voice told Vaggie that she was not going to be more careful.

Charlie did continue picking out all the bad and broken feathers and preening her wings but every so often…”AHAH! Chahahaharlie!” Vaggie yelped as Charlie’s hand ‘accidentally’ slipped up and scribbled over her wing.

It was long but a bit later Charlie had finished and Vaggie took another look at her wings through her teary eyes. They were back. They had their glossy shine back and there were no longer feathers sticking out everywhere, they were normal again.

Vaggie wrapped her arms around Charlie in a tight hug, “Thanks Charlie.” Vaggie smiled, pulling away from Charlie, “Of course!” Charlie grinned back, “But there’s one more thing I need to do to make sure your appointment with me is fully good to go.” Charlie exclaimed, putting on the most serious face she could muster as Vaggie cocked her head to the side curiously.

“Yeah and what’s that?” Vaggie asked, yelping when Charlie tackled her down onto her bed, the two of them tousling for a moment before Charlie got Vaggie down on her back and immediately started scribbling over her wings making her release a strangled sound and start thrashing, loud laughter pouring out of her like a volcano.

“CHAHAHAHAHARLIE!!” Vaggie screeched, wings flapping as they were playfully attacked, “That’s Dr.Charlie to you! I’m finishing up your check up!” Charlie playfully scolded the fallen angel as she continued writhing under her tickly touches.

Charlie then kept one hand scribbling on one wing and used her other hand to knead at Vaggie’s hips making her buck and laugh harder. “CHAHAHAHARLIE WAHAHAHAIT!!” Vaggie cackled, back arching off her bed as Charlie’s hand snaked around to claw at the base of Vaggie’s wing.

“Wait? Wait for what?” Charlie teased, laughing at the way Vaggie cracked one eye open and glared at her, “CHAHAHAHARLIE!!” Vaggie shrieked, “Ohokay okahay” Charlie snickered, climbing off Vaggie and rubbing the previously attacked wing to rid it of the phantom tickled.

“Thahahanks Chaharlie, I reheally needed thahat.” Vaggie pressed out through her laughter, “No problem Vaggie.” Charlie answered as they settled into each other’s embrace and Vaggie’s wing wrapped around Charlie making her smile.

Trust is a valuable thing that’s not easy to hold onto so do what you can to make it last.

(Woah long one, thanks for the request anon, this one was fun!)

[piastrinorris]

Firsts

Pairing: Tom Grant x f!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, smut

Tags: Make Up (film), 18+ (minors DNI), slow burn, underage alcohol content, virgin! tom and virgin!reader, protected sex (if tom can wrap it, so can you), just the fluffiest smut i've ever written tbh, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v,

Summary: A boy you met in the playground has a far greater effect on your life than you could have imagined.

Word count: 12k

A/N: Ugh, hopefully this signifies the end of my writer's block. Thanks for hanging in there, gang! Enjoy my first Tom fic &lt;3

Age 4

You sit on the roundabout cross-legged, indignantly pressing your hands into your cheeks. You look over at some of the other kids, playing with their friends. You wish you could have friends here too. Even though your parents took you here on holiday, and there’s loads of stuff at the holiday park specifically catered to kids your age, the most they’ll do is bring you to the park for half an hour or so before dragging you along to all the stupid, boring things that they want to do.

A boy with curly hair that sticks out in all directions and brown eyes that glisten when the midday sun hits them saunters up to you. “Hiya. Are you waiting for anyone else?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “No, it’s fine. You and your friends can have it.”

“Oh, I’m here by meself, too! Well not by meself, me mam’s here too, but I thought we could take it in turns!” He outstretches his hand, “I’m Thomas!”

You snort out a laugh. “Like the tank engine?”

“Shut up,” he frowns, making you giggle again.

“My dad’s friend’s name is Freder-eder-ded- Fredrid- Frederick, but we just call him Fred ’cause it’s easier. Maybe I can call you… Tom.”

His eyes light up. He has the most beautiful face you’ve ever seen. “I’d like that. Tom. Yeah. Thanks.”

“Your voice is weird,” you point out.

“Shut up!” he repeats. “Yours is the weird one.”

"Well, I've never heard one like yours before so that makes it weird. Now c’mon, you can spin me first,” you tell him, and with that, he wraps his hands around the metal pole of the roundabout and runs as fast as his tiny legs will take him.

Age 13

Another year, another caravan holiday. The older you get, the less tolerance you have for your parents’ boring excursions. But you absolutely love the downtime in between where you’re just at the caravan park. Because it means you get to hang out with your best friend.

As sad as you are to see your tradition go, of the pair of you picking out postcards for each other to spend all your holiday pocket money on to send to each other throughout the year, you are very excited to show him your birthday present since the last time you saw him.

“Hiya,” comes a familiar call from behind you as you sit at the roundabout that you first met Tom on. You run to him, with his arms outstretched wide, flinging your own around him as soon as you can reach him. His face buries into your cheek as you hug each other, his laughter filling your ears. “Got summat to show ya,” he says as you’re still embraced before pulling away.

“Oh, I have something to show you, too!” you grin, both of you fumbling through your pockets before you both brandish your mobile phones to each other.

With excited gasps, you recite your own numbers that you've memorised to each other, and immediately text each other, despite being feet away. You read your messages on each others’ screens as though it’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever come across.

The two of you walk down to the beach together, babbling on about school life and home life and everything in between life. You notice that Tom goes quiet after a little while, which isn’t like him. You sit down on a log you’d both claimed a few years ago, and Tom picks up a branch from the ground near it and starts drawing absent-mindedly in the sand. You ask with a frown, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah!” he lies, but you glare at him.

“Liar,” you shove him, and he laughs softly. “You think I can’t tell by now? What’s really wrong?”

He sighs, “Well… You know my best mate, Jake?” You nod. “Well, he got a - got a girlfriend last year.”

“You make that sound like that’s the worst thing in the world,” you laugh.

“Obviously it’s not,” he pulls a face at you. “But, like… I’m gonna have to… Kiss a girl at some point soon, aren’t I? It’s all Jake asks of me these days.”

You giggle, “What, is someone still afraid of getting girl germs?”

“No!” Tom elbows you in the side. “I’m...Worried I’ll be shit at it.”

You roll your eyes, “Nobody expects you to be good at it right off the bat!” Tom keeps looking at you sadly and you sigh. “What, you want to practise or something?”

Tom's eyes widen, then he nods slowly. “If that’s okay with you...”

You shrug, “I haven’t had any experience either, so...” you trail off. "I'll probably be shit, too."

“R-right, w-well,” Tom stammers, “I think I- I come over like this, a-and...” he leans towards you, resting a hand on your hip. He leans in close to you, tilting his head both ways. You try and match his movements, but at the last minute his nose crashes into yours and you both laugh nervously.

You try to play it cool, try to breathe deeply in case he can hear your heart thumping too. You’re so close to him right now you can see the little dip left by the dimple that forms when he smiles. The specks in his eyes that glow in the sun. Tom has been the love of your life - but you can’t say that, you’re only 13, you’ve barely lived.

You hold his jaw in place and move to him. His lips are smooth, warm, full, simply invigorating. He doesn’t respond at first, and you feel like kissing just his top lip probably isn't right, but after a few pecks from you he starts to kiss back. Feeling him push out to you makes you crave even more. He carries on with even more fervour until he suddenly stops, pulling back and whipping his hand back into his lap. He mumbles a “thanks” and goes back to poking the sand with his stick.

Your chest feels as though it’s made of lead. You excuse yourself and run all the way back to your caravan, heading straight to your bed and sobbing into your pillow. Of course he hated kissing you.

You do everything you can to avoid Tom for a while. You immerse yourself in everything your family wants to do, constantly asking what they’ve got planned to go out and do, emphasis on the go out bit. You switch your phone off so as not to be distracted by his texts. You rarely leave the caravan.

It’s only on the second-to-last day that your parents basically kick you out of the caravan for the day. Despite them giving you plenty of money to play in the arcade with, you find yourself sitting on one of the swings in the playpark, rocking yourself back and forth absentmindedly.

You don’t notice Tom approaching you, you’re too immersed in trying to think of anything else but him. He clears his throat to get your attention. You notice he’s breathless and red in the face, like he’s been sprinting. With a heavy heart, you nod at him in acknowledgement. “Hiya,” he starts softly.

“Hey.” you reply bluntly. You don’t mean to be so cold to him, you don’t want to be - but you have to be.

“You’ve been mad distant lately, are you all right?” Tom asks, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“Nope, I’m half left, see,” you wave your left hand in the air half-heartedly and Tom chuckles.

“That’s not what I meant, idiot.” He chews on his lip before continuing, “Is it because of how I kissed?” You think about whether or not to answer honestly when he continues sadly, “Was I really that bad at it?”

You sigh and shake your head. “No, you were fine. I...I’ve been busy with holiday stuff! Parents, you know how it is.” You're lying through your teeth, but what did you expect? For Tom to also fall for you as soon as your lips connected? Of course not.

“Right,” Tom breathes out a sigh of relief before continuing, “but you normally don’t go along with that, if you can help it… Does that mean you don’t want to hang out with me any more?” His voice falters back to sadness.

“Well, no,” you blurt out before you can think of something else. Damn. You didn’t want to outright say no because you can’t keep making yourself feel like this. But you look at his smile, at the dimples that you could place on him from memory, at his eyes lit up like a Christmas display, at how his freckles dance up his cheeks, and all of that flies out the window.

“Good! Because - Well, it’s a bit stupid, I know, but they’re doing a thing in the entertainment hall tonight, since it’s most kids’ last day here before school starts, a-and I...I was wondering if...” he starts wringing his hands together.

“You’re worried you’ll look like Billy No-Mates if you turn up without a date and you don’t know any other girls here well enough,” you state simply.

“There’s… More to it than that,” Tom scrunches his face up.

Of course, what you’re unaware of is that Tom is terrified he’s lost you for good. That him being so nervous about being too eager to kiss you that he had to stop himself has been too obvious and ruined your first kiss and that he’s lost the girl he loves. But he won’t admit that. He’ll let you believe whatever you want as long as he gets to spend time with you again. As long as he gets to watch the sparkle in your eyes dance when you laugh, and the little twitch of the nose you do right before you start to think deeply about something, that’s all he wants back.

You, blissfully unaware of this, shrug in defeat, “Sure. It’ll be nice to catch up over the last few days, I guess.”

Tom grins, “Alright, sound! I mean, I doubt we’ll really be able to catch up at the dance, but...We could always grab dinner together at the restaurant bit beforehand, just me an’ you?”

“Sounds good,” you press your lips together and nod. Tom grins and waves goodbye as he leaves the park, leaving you to curse yourself. You’re just letting him walk all over you - to you, Tom is now your first friend, first kiss, first dinner date, first dance date; you feel like to Tom you’re just a test dummy.

Age 16

You knew he had a girlfriend, now. He’d phoned you about Ruth in the early days of knowing her, and despite everything, you’d talked him into asking her out. He deserves that happiness, even if he can't get it with you.

She had seemed really interested in getting to know you, too, at first. Tom was always telling you that she’d been asking questions constantly about you, and that he couldn’t wait for the two of you to meet. “My girls,” he’d always say. Your heart would soar 50 feet into the air just to plummet a hundred at those words.

Phone calls became less frequent as months went on. After you’d sent over your Christmas card and present to him, as per your tradition, you only got back a card that had your name written at the top, and “- Tom” at the bottom. Not the “Love,” that would always come before it. Not the little kiss he’d always put underneath his name. That really stung.

What was once a constant stream of texts from wishing each other good morning to goodnight every day for the last 3 years becomes occasional, which becomes non-existent. He doesn’t even text you on your birthday.

You beg and you plead with your parents to not go on the annual Cornwall holiday. Anywhere but. You’re 16 now, that’s plenty old enough to stay at home on your own. You’d be more than happy to have a neighbour check in on you regularly and spontaneously. Or a family member. Even your worst enemy, just - not there. Not facing him. And besides, you’re almost certain he won’t be alone with his parents this year.

And you’re right. She’s hanging off of his arm all the while the other regular teens crowd around them. They’re all just as much your friends as they are his. But this year you don’t feel welcome around them.

And it’s not just jealousy on your part. You’d even tried to be friendly. You’d practically skipped up to the both of them on your first day, after a lot of mental preparation, to a judgemental stare from Ruth that started from the moment she laid eyes on you, to the moment you left her field of vision. It burned especially strongly when Tom hugged you in greeting, even if you could have gotten a more meaningful exchange with a Lego figurine, with a just as emotionless, "Hiya."

It hurts when you end up seeing Ruth and Tom together and she’s the one who notices and suddenly drapes herself over him. It hurts more when it’s him that sees you first and he takes her by the hand and simply runs off with her.

It hurts the most when you catch them kissing on your log. Once again, 3 years later, you’re running from that beach to your caravan and you’re curling up in your bed crying your eyes out. Except, this year’s trip won’t end in a dinner where he feeds you his chips just because you didn’t ask for any with your meal and he wants to make sure you don’t nick all of his. It won’t end with a DJ asking everyone - and he means everyone - to make their way to the only slow-dance of the night, and Tom goofily dancing in ultra slow motion as he eventually encourages you to do the same. It’ll end in him doing that with her, while you sit and eat whatever your parents can make out of whatever’s left in the fridge and fight back the tears you haven’t yet cried while in the privacy of your own room.

It makes sense, after all. Tom being your first love, he was always destined to be your first heartbreak, too.

Age 17

You hear a moan fall into your mouth, you feel a hand grip on your arm. Another rests on your thigh. Your hand moves up to his hair, burying deep into his soft, brown curls. Except it doesn’t. It barely scrapes through the cropped, straight hair of your boyfriend. 

You’d so loved that the guy on the other side of the classroom in your college class had noticed you, had asked you out. Your parents love him, your friends back home love him. And, as it had turned out, he’d even been holidaying at the same caravan park you always do. It’s just that while your family normally goes at the end of the summer break, his goes at the start. Your family let you go with his this year instead, which you’re thrilled about. Hopefully you can create memories with your boyfriend in Cornwall with absolutely no trace of Tom, who’s surely only going to be there in the last week, like always.

You don’t believe it when you see him and her in the distance, outside the window. You think you must be making it up. There’s no way. It’s only fleeting, so you shake it off and try to focus on being in the moment with your boyfriend. He takes you by the hand, leads you to your bedroom for the next week, sits you both on the bed and starts kissing you intensely. That’s when you start imagining him as Tom, again. This is exactly the opposite of what you wanted to happen.

Later on, when you’re on your way to the arcade, you spot an old friend from past trips. She excitedly greets you, states her surprise over seeing you so early in the summer, and tells you that she works here now. She tells you of a staff party that’s happening in one of the luxury chalets. It’s apparently a tradition, first weekend of every summer holiday period, the staff club together and buy it out for a weekend. She invites you both along, and you gleefully accept.

You speculate all week about what your first house party is going to be like. What being drunk for the first time is going to be like. Your boyfriend laughs at you every time. "You're hilarious. I can't wait to see how sloppy you get."

That makes you nervous. How much alcohol does it take to get you wasted? You were hoping to make sure you stayed of enough sound mind to remember it all. Would you really inevitably get "sloppy" and embarrass yourself?

When the party's finally in full swing, you're insistent on sticking to cans of soda. Your boyfriend frowns at you, demands to know why you're suddenly so shy over drinking after it being all you could talk about. You tell him you just need to build up to it, that it's a first time which makes it a big deal. He rolls his eyes and mutters something about first times and walks away.

You frown at that. There's only two main things about you and firsts. The fact that you and Tom may never share any more, which you've never discussed with your boyfriend; and that the first time the two of you had tried going beyond kissing, he'd called you…

No, you're not thinking about that. He said he's sure it's something you'll get over, and once you are, he'll be ready for you. You just need to try and rein it in for yourself. Did he resent you because you hadn't managed to keep it under control yet?

Your brain is swimming when you hear the one voice you'd simultaneously been waiting for and dreading. "Hiya!"

Taking a deep breath in and putting on a brave face, you feign surprise. “Oh my god, Tom! Hi! What are you doing here?!”

“Well, Ruth had made friends with one of the girls that works here, Jade, and she invited us - well, Ruth, but, y’know, we’re sort of a package deal,” he laughs awkwardly. “Um, so, what are you doing here?”

“Hayley works here now, an’ all! Remember her?”

Tom laughs under his breath, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t surprise me in the slightest. ’Member how she was always the first to volunteer to get on stage?” You both laugh loudly before faltering into a weird silence. “So, found your tipple of choice, yet?” he asks, gesturing to the plastic cup in your hand.

“Oh!” You shake your head. “Not yet. I wouldn’t even know which one to start with. I’ve, uh, I’ve never really drank before.”

Tom chuckles, “Hey, me neither! Was gonna play it safe and go for a beer. Fancy indulging in my first one with me?”

“We’ve shared enough by now, haven’t we?” you ask with a small smile. 

“So,” he starts as you both head into the kitchen. “You never really explained why you’re here this early.”

“Didn’t I? I’m here with my boyfriend and his family,” you explain.

Tom’s face falls, though you’re too busy navigating your way past everyone at the party to notice. “O-oh… Boyfriend? Is he… Y’know, good to you, an’ that?” He asks, his energy suddenly depleted.

“Yeah! Yeah, he’s great. Dunno where he is at the moment, but I’ll have to introduce you both while we’re here,” you nod.

“Definitely! I’ll let Ruth know you’re here, she can say hi to you an’ all.” Tom thankfully doesn’t notice your eyes rolling as he studies the drinks now in front of you both. Tom looks over his shoulder at you and jerks his head at the kitchen counter. “Pick our poison, then.”

You shrug, “I dunno, you said beer? Let’s go with that.”

Tom nods, grabbing a couple of bottles and an opener, clicking the lids off and handing one to you. “To us, eh? Finally growing up.”

WIth a defeated smile, you clink your bottle against his and you both take your first sips. Tom immediately pulls a face of disgust, which then turns to intrigue. He looks over at you and laughs as you stand there, looking as though you’ve squeezed an entire lemon out onto your tongue. “Maybe we’ll get you something sweeter. ’Ere, how about one of these flavoured vodkas? Stick some of that in with your Coke.”

You and Tom stay and chat for the best part of an hour, catching up on everything. It’s the happiest you’ve felt in a long while. Certainly this whole week. But then he talks about finding Ruth and for the first time all night, you think about where your boyfriend could be.

You take a lap of the cabin. And another. And another. Each time more and more anxious. Calling his name out is getting you nowhere.

And then you see a flash of him getting pulled into another room. You don’t see the other person. Their arm is especially slender, their painted nails gripping his shirt as he grins down at them. You stare at the door as it closes, in pure shock and horror.

Your ears ring until you eventually hear a faint, but familiar, “Hiya, what’s going on with you? You’ve been up and down like a bleedin’ yoyo!” Tom notices your lack of response and frowns. “What?” As you still don’t answer, he follows your line of vision and points, “In that door?” Your lip quivers and his face steels. “Right.”

The next few seconds happen in slow motion and high speed all at once. Tom swinging the door open. His, “You better not be who I fucking think you are, mate.” Him getting pinned against the wall by your (as of right now) ex. Tom spitting in his eye to get dropped. Your boyfri- ex-boyfriend’s, “Is she as fucking disgusting with you as she is with me?” as Tom tries to walk away. Tom’s face absolutely seething as he turns back around, strides up to your ex and punches him square in the face.

Finally, you find it in you to scream at Tom to stop, and then turn to your ex. “The actual fuck is wrong with you?! Acting a victim just because I was catching up with a friend while you were chatting girls up in the same fucking house?!”

“You know what? Fuck this. Make your own way home. Bitch,” your ex snarls as he pushes past you to the front door as he storms out of it.

You hear a, “What the fuck happened to you?!” and see Ruth approach with her new friend, a girl with just-above-shoulder-length hair. Ruth’s looking at Tom’s red knuckles in horror.

“I’m fine, babe, honest. It were just… That dickhead was feeling up some other bird while…” He gestures weakly at you.

Ruth presses her lips together and nods, “Right. So you’ll punch a guy for her, yeah?”

He groans, lolling his head back. “C’mon, Ruth, don’t be like that now, please. You know I’d do the same if it were you. Or even Jake, or any one of my friends, alright? Don’t mean nothin’.”

“Yeah, well. Think I’m gonna sleep over at Jade’s tonight, anyway. Wanna see how the staff live,” she explains, gesturing to her friend.

Tom looks a little dejected, but he shrugs it off. “Alright, it’s your holiday, too. Have fun. I’ll text you in the morning, yeah?” She nods, and he goes up to kiss her. You look away, wincing. She scowls at you as she walks past you to leave. 

Someone else in the crowd snorts, “Don’t you think that’s a bit fucking dodgy?”

“What is?” Tom asks, turning to face them.

“Accusing you of cheating on her with a ‘friend’ and then conveniently sleeping over with a friend of her own?” They fold their arms to raise their eyebrows in suspicion at Tom.

He merely shrugs, carefree. “Exactly. It’s perfectly normal to just have friends, alright?” He sounds a little exasperated at that, holding his hands up. “It’d only be dodge if I were also up to no good. But I’m not, because I know that it’s okay to just hang out with a friend every now an’ then.” He looks at you and shrugs. “Listen, don’t worry about tonight. Mum and Dad had us in a twin room, anyway, I can pull the beds back apart again if you need a place to sleep. Till then, we can stay here, long as you like. Alright?”

You nod gratefully, pushing out a whispered, “Thank you.” 

You hug him tightly and he gives you just as much back, rocking you gently from side to side before rubbing up and down your back and offering, “So, how’s about we go back and demolish all the vodka and coke in that kitchen, yeah?”

You awaken in a single bed, next to another single bed that has a stirring Tom in it. He looks over at you, rubbing his eyes awake, “Hiya.”

You groan, “Of all the first encounters we’ve had, I’m begging you to have looked into how to deal with our first hangovers.”

He snorts with laughter. “‘’Fraid not. Looks like we’re suffering together.”

“Fantastic,” you whine as you throw yourself to lay on your other side.

Age 18

Even now that you’re legally an adult, that caravan park in Cornwall never evades you. You’d wanted to go on one of those big pre-university holidays to Spain or Greece like most 18 year olds do, but too many plans kept falling through and things kept going wrong and so, in order to catch some kind of break, you end up giving into your friend Hayley’s offer to stay with her for the holiday period. The friend that works there.

The staff living quarters are identical to the rest of the caravan park, with the exception of a common area with a bonfire. As you’re carrying your suitcase past it, you spot her. Again. Of course. You await the disgusted glare she’s about to give you, but she doesn’t seem to acknowledge your existence in the slightest. Hayley catches up with you, notices, and nudges you, “You know, she’s actually a lot more chilled out now that she’s with Jade instead.”

You double-take so fast you almost give yourself whiplash. “She’s wi- You mean, with?” Your friend nods. “Aww. Well, good for her, I guess.”

Once you’re in the caravan, you take out your phone and tap through to yours and Tom’s text history. You read back the last text you’d had from him, almost a year ago:

Hiya. Hope you’re alright, and you got on the train okay. Listen, I know I said all that guff about us just being friends, and I know that’s what both of us have always been, but Ruth’s proper upset about it. It was really good to see you again, but I don’t think we should talk while this is still fresh. Safe travels.

You wonder why he never thought to text you even after they’d broken up. Did he even want to hear from you again? You bite the bullet and text anyway:

Hey, stranger! Heard about you and Ruth. Sorry to hear it. Hope you’re doing well.

Hiya, yourself! Yeah, thanks, I’m holding up. Better for us all, really. How’d you hear, if you don’t mind me asking? x

Saw her at the caravan site and she didn’t give me evils, lol. 

YOU’RE HERE?! :D x

Yeah! 

Wait, when you say *here*...

What caravan are you staying in? x

One of the staff ones, 159. Why?

He doesn’t text back as quickly after that, so you instead start fixing up some lunch for you and your friend. She goes down to the shop to pick up something for the two of you to drink, and while you have the caravan to yourself, there’s a hurried knocking at the door. You assume Hayley told her bosses that she’s got someone living with her over the summer - she does have one of the ‘luxury’ two-bed caravans, after all - so there should be no problem with you answering it.

You don’t even get a good look at who it is before you’re being swept up in their arms and backed into the caravan, but you recognise that scent, that grip, that swooping feeling in your stomach. That laughter in your ear, followed by the greatest word in the English language, “Hiya.”

“Oh my god! What are the chances that you - oh my god!” You yell excitedly as you see him in his uniform. He twirls himself from side to side with a proud smile to show it off. “You got a job here, too?!”

He grins, “Yeah!” but it falters. “’Course, it would’ve helped if I’d’ve known my ex was dumping me for someone else who works here before I accepted but,” he shrugs, “swings and roundabouts. Speaking of! They’ve got rid of our park.”

You gasp sorrowfully. “What? No!”

“I know! They’re redoing the whole thing,” he pouts.

“I mean, to be fair, it was getting close to becoming an actual death trap,” you point out. “Last year, I don’t think the roundabout even actually spun anymore!” You both laugh as Hayley returns.

“Oh! Alright, Tom! See you’ve found my fugitive for the next six weeks.”

“Sure have! Can I nick her for a bit, though? Got some catching up to do,” he looks at her hopefully, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

She looks between the two of you before grinning, “Yeah, why not? I can make my own lunch, away with you both!”

“Have you not had lunch yet, then?” Tom frowns as you both walk down the steps of the caravan.

“Mate, I literally just got here,” you gesture to your car as Tom falls into a pile of giggles.

“Alright, mate,” he nudges you with his elbow as he mocks you. “How’s about we take full advantage of my new staff discount,” he waggles an ID card between his fingers, “and go get you your own chips for once?”

“You remembered!” You cackle. “And they’re way tastier when they’re not mine.”

All through your meal, as you catch up, there's a very large elephant in the room that Tom isn't addressing. After a post-lunch walk ends up taking you to your log, the bittersweet punch that hits your chest finally has you speak up as Tom sits on the log, sprawling his legs out in front of him: "Why didn't you ever text?" Tom presses his lips together as he takes a deep breath in and out. "I know… I know you said that Ruth didn't like you talking to me, and while that was shit, I kinda get it. But… Why didn't you…?"

"Reach out after we broke up?" Tom asks, bending his knees to rest his elbows on as he rubs his face with his palms. "I don't fucking know, is my honest answer. I thought about it, if that helps. Probably fucking doesn't," he mutters. "I just… Assumed you'd hate me for letting a girl come between us."

"Well… A little," you admit, finally sitting down next to him. "Hate you more for assuming I'd hate you, though." Tom shoves your shoulder as he laughs softly, and you chuckle quietly, too.

"Let me make it up to you?" he asks. "Dinner at my caravan later?"

You groan, "Please tell me you've learned to do more than put tinned spaghetti on a slice of uncooked bread."

"As long as you eat it like a sandwich, ain't nothing wrong with it," he beams. "But, just for you, I'll make it proper special, yeah?"

"Ooh, like a date? Do I have to dress up?" You tease, and he laughs loudly.

"I distinctly remember you wearing jeans on our first date, so you've set the bar pretty low there."

You look at him in mock offence, "Excuse you! Those were my smart jeans that had the sequin dolphins on them! I felt like a little celebrity in those," you reminisce.

"You can wear what you like, just… Maybe no bedazzled fish this time, eh?" He glances over at you side-eyeing him and interrupts you before you can start correcting him, "I know, I know, dolphins are mammals, actually." He collapses into a fit of giggles, losing the accent he's using to mock yours as he squawks at you trying to push him off the log entirely.

"Can't believe you remember that, and all," you smile fondly.

"Of course. Still got that toy one I bough-" Tom interrupts himself, but you silently encourage him. "I, uh, we had a school trip to the aquarium. An' they had a - a little gift shop there, they had these toy dolphins. I bought one to give you years ago, but I just… Never got round to it."

“Ruth stopped you?” you guess, and he pulls a face in response. You copy him, “You’ll just have to give it to me when you come visit me in Nottingham, won’t you?”

He sits bolt upright. “You what?!”

You giggle, “I got into Nottingham. For uni, I mean.”

“Shit, that’s huge! Grats!” he pins your arms to your side in a quick squeeze. "An' there's a bus that goes straight there from Derby, so there'll be no escaping me!"

Your eyebrows knit together, "You not staying here year-round?"

He shakes his head. "I was gonna, when I first applied for it, but then… Well, things have changed now, in't they?"

You giggle, "I'll finally get to see your house for real!"

Tom gasps excitedly, "Shit, yeah, and Mum'll be dead happy to see you again!" He slaps his knees and stands up, "Right, well. This ain't getting me back to work, is it? Gotta make sure I clock off nice an’ early." He offers his hand out to you. "Wanna get up too, or are you staying here?"

You take his hand and let him pull you up to standing. "Nah, I better get back to Hayley at some point. Text me whenever you want me ’round, yeah?" You ask, trying not to grin stupidly at the fact Tom doesn't let go of your hand right away.

"Will do. In a bit, yeah?" he asks with a smile, holding your hand out to him for just long enough for you to speculate whether he was about to kiss it before letting it go, instead.

As you head straight back up the path next to the log, he goes across the beach for a minute, making his way to the other side of the park where he needs to be instead. You return to caravan 159 to see Hayley sprawled across the sofa, watching the tiny TV. She jumps up excitedly when she sees you. “So, how’d it go?” You explain that you have dinner planned with him tonight, but that you’re not certain what level of date to consider it. Hayley helps you go through the clothes you’d packed, but they were all either too casual or too going-out-y, outfits you’d planned for nights out at bars and nightclubs. Not exactly dinner-with-an-old-friend attire.

Hayley takes you by the hand to her room, where she starts pulling out dresses and holding them against you. You laugh, “Hayles! These are your show outfits, I can’t wear them!”

“Why not?” she frowns. “We’re the same size, I still get to choose which ones I wear every night so I’ll have plenty of options. And Tom and that never come and watch, so he’ll be none the wiser.” She waggles her eyebrows, wiggling the dress in her hands from side to side. “Come on,” she drawls the last word, stretching it out. “You know you want to.”

You snatch it from her and scoff, “If I take this, will you stop?”

She grins wickedly. “Not until you’ve shown me what undies you’re gonna wear, too!”

You feel your face grow warmer as you shake your head, “And what does that have to do with the price of fish?!”

She cackles, “You know.”

“I know nothing, remember? I’m still yet to… Y’know,” you falter. Hayley doesn’t quite know the full extent of yours and Tom’s friendship, only knowing that you’ve both been coming to this park as long as she has. She doesn’t know that there’s ample ammo for her to tease you about tonight, and you put all your energy into calculating everything you’re about to say to make sure you don’t slip up. That’s the last thing you need.

“Is that why you’ve got these?” she asks with a giggle, already back in your bedroom and scooping up a pair of lace panties with her finger from the packing cube you’d assigned for underwear.

Your face now a furnace, you chase after her with a, “Shut it!” as you snatch them away. “They’re for if we ever go… Y’know, out anywhere. Sometimes it just gives you a little boost to wear a cute matching set, know what I mean?”

She grins, “I know, I’m just yanking your chain. Wear what you want, as long as you look good doing it.” Her voice gets quieter as she heads back into the main room of the caravan, until she calls out loudly, “So, where is he taking you, do you know?”

“He says he’s going to cook for me,” you state as you press Hayley’s dress to your front and look in the mirror. “Yeah, said he’ll text me when it’s ready.”

Hayley suddenly reappears back in your doorway looking fearful. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah! Why shouldn’t I be?” you ask with a frown.

“You ever seen Tom’s cooking?”

You shake your head. “Not since we were about 14? And all he could do was heat up tinned spaghetti and dump it onto bread he didn’t even think to toast. But he said he’d do better, and that was four years a-” Your face falls at her expression.

“Babe. He was literally eating that for dinner yesterday when we called for him to come sit round the fire,” she tells you with raised eyebrows.

“So… I should… Just go there as soon as I’m ready?” You ask, nodding slowly, and Hayley mirrors you. She shows you from the window which trailer is Tom’s, and lets you finish getting yourself ready.

After showering, getting dressed - including the set of underwear that Hayley teased you about, even though you definitely don’t plan on having anyone else see it, it’s definitely just to give you the little boost of confidence you need - and applying as much make-up as you feel comfortable putting on for tonight - you give Hayley a quick hug, though she has you pose for some photos first to “commemorate” how good you look in her dress. She’s quick to usher you out of the door afterwards, though, telling you where she’ll bury her spare key so you can get back in (“If you get back in tonight,” she adds with an exaggerated wink as you roll your eyes at her and walk out) and pointing out one more time where Tom lives.

You knock on the door tentatively, but the muffled country music you can hear from the other side tells you that Tom probably can’t hear you. You try the door and it opens easily, allowing you to see Tom dancing around the tiny expanse of his kitchen, singing under his breath as he takes a handful of spaghetti out from its packet and throws it into a pot of boiling water as though it were a part of the way he’s dancing. 

Your phone still clutched in your hand, you go to position it in a way to start recording him, but he catches you. Instead of looking surprised, he simply beckons you over with one finger. Walking across to him, as he’s still singing and swaying, he holds his hand out, to which you give him yours and he twirls you around. “You look amazing,” he smiles at you breathlessly.

Trying not to get too flustered, you quickly reply, “You scrub up alright, yourself!” You gesture to him, looking down at his dress shirt and - “Oh, so when I wear jeans to have dinner with you, I get ridiculed, but -”

“Shhh-sh-sh-sh,” Tom shushes you with a smile, pressing his finger against your lips, which you laugh against. “How come you’re early then, eager beaver? Didn’t even need to tell you where I live.”

“Hayley told me. Warned me to come over and make sure I don’t get food poisoning or something,” you giggle, and Tom gasps, holding a hand to his chest.

“That cheeky cow!” He jokes before draping his arm over your shoulders and aiming you towards the stove. “Well, I’ll have you know, I’ve been cooking not just one, but two options. See, I couldn’t remember if you ate meat or not, so I’ve got some… Broccoli spaghetti dish on the go on this side, and then there’s sausage and rice in this big pot here,” he points out.

“At least none of it came out of a tin, good boy,” you smirk as you take a spoon from the utensil rack on his counter and start stirring the spaghetti around to make sure it all starts cooking. You continue stirring the different pots, asking Tom if there’s anything more to be done, but he simply carries on singing along to what you recognise playing now as Take Me Home, Country Roads, taking another utensil off the rack from where he stands behind you to sing dramatically into the handle as he side-steps back and forth around you. “Can’t believe you actually listen to this stuff,” you muse, shaking your head softly.

“What’d you mean?! It’s decent,” Tom pouts.

“Tom, my granddad listens to Jim Reeves,” you point out.

“Then your granddad’s got excellent taste, don’t he,” Tom grins before putting his hands on your hips. Your heart skips several beats as he gently pushes you out of the way. “C’mon, now, let me dish up. You go sit at the table, yeah?”

Your heart soars again when you see there’s already knives and forks laid out, as well as a candle off to the side. Tom soon follows, holding both plates out to offer to you. You pick the one you prefer and set it down in front of you. Tom puts his down on the other side of the table, fishing a lighter out from his back pocket to light the candle between you. “Shit, I forgot to pour the - d’you like wine? If not, I’ve got some Coke I can put in a wine glass to look dead fancy,” he calls from the kitchen area, where his head is buried in a cupboard.

“You’ve got wine glasses?!” You ask incredulously, leaning around to look at him. “I don’t even know you anymore!”

“Ha-ha,” he deadpans, throwing you a sarcastic smile before holding up the wine bottle. You signal your response and he fills up both glasses accordingly. “Bought ’em to impress a girl, dunno if it was worth it yet, though.” Everything inside you feels like lead again. Of course this wasn’t anything more than platonic. As he hands you the glass, he waggles his eyebrows, “Well? Was it?”

Relieved that you had nothing to worry about after all, you grin, “Am I supposed to be the girl you’re trying to impress? Even though I’ve watched you eat worms?”

He rolls his eyes as he takes his seat again. “It was one worm and it was because shitty Damien dared me, alright?” He defends with a smile, and you laugh. “And besides, I was six! You were no saint back then either, how many times did I eat figurative shit because a certain someone kept tying my shoelaces together?!”

“I can’t believe you never even realised when I was doing it, too,” you clutch your stomach as you sigh, coming down from the raucous laughter his memory had caused you. You offer your glass out to him, “Here, to old times, eh?”

“And new,” he smiles softly, clinking his glass against yours.

Conversation never runs dry between the two of you as you finally catch up properly over everything in the past three years. You laugh, you tease, you reminisce fondly. After dinner and a store-bought dessert that Tom still puts effort into looking fancy, the two of you retire to his sofa to watch whatever’s on TV. 

You deliberately sit so that there’s a little distance between you, not wanting to be presumptuous, and so when you try to sit comfortably, tucking your feet begins you, your rest your head on the back of the seat, ending up with your head just shy of brushing against Tom’s arm. You can sense him looking at you in your peripheral, and look over at him in question. When you make eye contact, he flashes his eyes at you and jerks his head to the side, silently offering you to shuffle up next to him. You do so, moving until your head ends up resting on his shoulder. He drapes his arm around you, holding onto your arm and squeezing it gently.

After a few minutes, you tilt your head up to look at him again. The faintest hint of stubble peeks through his skin, illuminated by a movie you’ve seen so often you could recite it, but it makes Tom laugh nonetheless. Eventually, he’s the one that catches you staring, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard.

You push yourself up on the couch a little to get a better look at his face. His gaze never leaves you, but he’s looking a little lower than your eyes. As he looks up at your eyes again, he licks his lips. “Tell me now,” he starts quietly. “Tell me to stop, an’ I will.”

You softly shake your head. “Why would I do that?”

Grinning with a sigh of relief, he reaches up to hold the back of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s a long one, starting out soft but pressing harder as it carries on. You sit up on your knees to angle yourself better, holding his face in your hands so as not to break the contact with him as your lingering pecks continue, but he quickly - considering it was blindly - taps one of your legs to insinuate that he wants hold of it. You shuffle around until he can grab your ankle to pull it until you’re straddling him.

Your arms rest on his shoulders as you keep kissing him. God, you never want to stop kissing him. The hand not still holding your head snakes between you to rub at your jaw, gently massaging it open to slip his tongue between your lips. You let out a whine involuntarily and curse yourself - your ex hated noises like that - but Tom only pushes you closer to him, humming into the kiss.

Finally, the two of you break away from each other, gasping heavily for air. You catch each other's gaze and share the same ear-to-ear smile. His pupils are blown out and his already plump lips look bigger and redder than ever. You have the urge to take the lower one between your teeth, despite not knowing if he’s into that.

Before you can do anything, he’s pulling you close again, though not to kiss your lips. Holding the back of your neck deliberately, he guides you down to start kissing just below your ear. The sensation you feel from it is like no other, and you find yourself whining and whimpering even more. The sounds only encourage Tom as he finds a sweet soft spot at the side of your neck and sucks on it especially hard. You didn’t expect the low moan to roll out of your mouth, nor did you expect that to cause Tom’s hips to buck up against you.

He stops suddenly, his head whipping back to look up at you. His pupils are blown to almost the size of his irises. “I, um… I’ve never… Sorry, I… Fuck, I dunno how to say this without sounding weird…”

You smile softly at him, playing with the curls behind his ears. “It’s okay. I haven’t, either.”

His face softens. “Then everything’s as it should be, right?” He smiles up at you, his hands moving to hold your hips. Something about his touch coupled with where you are makes you want to grind against him, and so you do, holding the back of his head to pull him close enough to rest his forehead against yours. His mouth suddenly dry, he swallows again. “We should probably move this to the bed… Right? More room an’ that.”

You climb off his lap and hold out your hand. He stands and takes it, leading you to the door between you and his bed. He wrenches the door open, then pulls your arm with enough force to send you crashing against him, chest to chest, before his hands find your jaw again to bring it up to resume kissing you. You giggle against his lips, “What happened to the bed?”

Tom presses another peck onto you. “Missed kissing you already,” he grins back against yours. Neither of your hands stop moving around, exploring each others’ bodies, until you can’t bear not feeling his skin against yours a moment longer. 

Moving to run your finger along his buttons, you look at him expectantly. “Can y-… Do you want…” 

With his trademark smile, Tom’s gaze never leaves yours as he undoes a few buttons before grabbing the back of his collar and throwing his shirt off completely. Entranced, you stroke all over his torso before tracing invisible lines between each of his freckles. Kissing every part of you that he can reach, he eventually pipes up, “Sort of feeling underdressed here.”

You look up to grin at him, “Actually, I think you’re wearing too much.”

“Yeah, course you would,” he smirks as his hands slide up your back to the fastening of your dress. He flashes his eyes at you, a silent request, and you nod. He slowly pulls down the zip until the dress, which you were able to just slide over your head anyway, falls off of your body and pools at your ankles. Tom leans back, looking you up and down as he takes you all in. You’d feel very exposed, were it not for the look in his eye. “Fuck me,” he exclaims under his breath. “You are fucking phenomenal.”

Smiling bashfully, you pull him back towards you by the belt loops of his jeans. “Now who’s overdressed, eh?” You ask as you press yet another kiss to his lips.

“Right,” he grins mischievously, pushing you back so that you fall onto his bed, “you get down there.” Giggling, you shuffle back towards his pillows, lay back to rest on your elbows and watch him unbuckle his belt. He notices and starts humming an unintelligible song that he goofily gyrates to, pulling his belt out and waving it around. You roll around laughing as he continues putting on the most Tom-like striptease for you. Once he’s kicked his jeans off, he clambers onto the bed, crawling up until he’s hovering over you, his face not even an inch from yours. He tilts his chin up until the tip of his nose bumps past yours and trails up your bridge, before bringing it back down and rubbing it against the tip of yours again, side to side. “Never thought this day would come,” Tom admits softly.

“Me neither,” you reply back in the same tone. “Never been more glad to be wrong.”

Letting a laugh slip between his lips, Tom nods, “Me, too.” He kisses your nose before looking down your body, letting his fingertips brush against the cup of your bra. Your breath hitches at his proximity, and he looks back at you to grin, “You sure you didn’t think this was happening?”

You pout, “It’s just nice to know that I look sexy, that’s all!”

“Fuck, yes, you do,” he growls as he leans back down to kiss you, his hand gripping your covered breast. You push yourself up and he pulls back, eyebrows knitted, as you reach back awkwardly to try and unfasten your bra. With another smile, Tom reaches over and takes over, fumbling a few times before eventually getting there. Impatiently, you move your arms to throw your bra aside, not caring where it lands, and Tom’s immediately transfixed on your naked chest.

You reach up to place a finger beneath his jaw, pushing it back up closed, and giggle as soon as you move it back and his jaw drops yet again. He reaches down to grab both of them, one in each hand, and a gentle rush of euphoria sweeps through you. He kisses you again, timing the press of his lips with the squeeze of his hands.

One hand moves from massaging your breast to slowly slide down your torso. This is it, where everything comes to an end. You await with bated breath, hoping he'll just rest his hand on your tummy while he kisses you, or something. But his hands dip lower, and just as you feel him lifting the elastic of your underwear, your hand flies to his wrist, gripping tightly. He stops kissing to look you in the eye, confused concern on his face. "Y'alright? Wanna stop?"

You swallow hard and shake your head. "It's… It's okay, you don't have to - I can- want to take care of you."

The concern in his expression grows. "This is a two-way street, love. If you don't want it, I'm not having it, either."

You pout, "No! It's not that I don't want it! I- I  do, so bad, I just…" You sigh. "So, the reason I've never gotten anywhere yet in this… Department, is because I… I tend to… Produce… A lot. And I get that that's, y'know, gross, so… You don't have t-”

Tom interrupts you by taking your face in his hands and kissing you sweetly. “You.” He says before kissing you again. “Are far from that.” Another kiss, and then his brow furrows. “You mean to tell me that dickhead -?” His eyebrows then raise in realisation. “When he asked if you were… ‘Disgusting’ with me, last year…” You nod slowly, and Tom turns his nose up. “Fucking wanker. Thank fuck you’re mine now, eh?” For years, you’d been used to your heart soaring just for it to drop. You feel that sensation reverse, the heavy weight of your ex’s insults flying off of you at Tom’s words, smiling back at him as his adoring eyes look down at you, his thumbs caressing your cheeks.

You slide your hands onto his shoulders with an, “Always was, really."

"Oh, yeah?" he asks, taking one of your hands into both of his, holding the palm out to kiss it.

You bite your lip into a smile. "I, uh… Whenever me and my ex did used to… Try, the only thing that could get me going was…" You falter, looking up at him as he keeps kissing down your arm.

"Was what, angel? Didn't catch that last bit," he grins against your skin.

You giggle, "It was you, okay? Prick."

Tom buries his face in your neck, his mouth working the tender skin just below the mark he’d already left until you let out another moan, to which his hips roll down to grind against yours. With just two thin layers between you, you feel his thick member spread your lower lips beneath the lace of your underwear, and you instinctively rub yourself up and down his length, your legs wrapping around him. “Here, guess what,” he mutters into your ear.

“What?”

“I could only ever get off thinking of you, an’ all.” You feel his teeth against the shell of your ear as you can hear the grin in his voice. “So, does that mean…” He snakes a hand back to the elastic of your panties, working his fingertips beneath them, “That all this is for m- ohhh, fuuuuck,” he moans breathily as his fingers slide down into your wetness. “You get this turned on, just by me?” He asks, and you nod quietly, still not sure how to respond. He looks at you adoringly. “I must be pretty fucking fit, then, mustn’t I?” he asks, another, more arrogant, smile just pulling at the corners of his lips, and you laugh.

“You’re such a dickhead,” you scold, but honestly, it’s a massive comfort to you knowing that even in this most tender of moments, the dynamic of you and Tom isn’t lost. This feels good, natural, right. No need to fear anything. No need to worry. It’s just you and him. Like Tom said, as it should be.

“Oh, I am?” he asks teasingly, his expression growing more mischievous. “Even when I’m doing this?” He runs his middle finger down between your folds until it slides easily inside of you, guided by your wetness. You drop your head back into his pillows, moaning louder than ever and bucking your hips against his finger. “Fuuuck,” Tom groans, “you feel so fucking good.”

“Not too wet?” you ask quietly, and he pulls his finger back, sucks it clean while looking you dead in the eye, and then makes quick work of pulling your underwear off of you. 

Sinking down to lay between your legs, he sighs dreamily. “Absolutely not.” He laps all around at the mess you’ve already made noisily, cleaning you up before tracing his tongue carefully along your slit. Just as it brushes over your clit, your breath hitches and the whine underneath it lingers. Tom looks up at you, his big brown eyes warm and safe watching your reaction as he first sucks on the sensitive area, and then laps the tip of his tongue back and forth against it. Your hand flies into his hair as you moan and you feel his lips turn up against you.

Tom blindly finds your free hand to reach up and connect his fingers with yours, a tender bond as his other hand spreads you apart. Angling his head slightly, you watch his tongue fly quickly against you, his own moans echoing yours as you push his face against you, desperately craving more, you don’t quite know in what sense, you just want pleasure, you just want him. You feel yourself gushing around him and you start to feel a little tense. Feeling the change in you, the hand holding yours squeezes, a reassurance. 

He once again happily cleans up after you, muttering unintelligible sweet nothings inside of you as he does. You lock eyes with him again as he resumes sucking on your clit, moving to slide two fingers inside of you. While you certainly feel more full, it doesn’t hurt as much as you were warned it would, thanks to your… Overproduction. Instead, you feel a sensation you’ve never felt before. Stronger than you’ve ever even felt whenever you’ve pleasured yourself. You keen against his fingers, moaning and whining as he gently encourages you, “Fuck, yes, angel, that’s it… Oh, fuck, you’re squeezing around my fingers… Gonna cum all over my fingers, yeah? Do it, baby, cum for me.”

As though working on his actual command, you feel a rush through every nerve in your body, one that pushes its way from your core, spreading along your spine until it arches, across your arms until you’re grabbing the sheets, through your legs until they bend in the air above you. Not wanting to be loud enough to be heard throughout the whole park, you bite through your lip as you let out a long, high-pitched moan throughout your release. 

Tom doesn’t surface for some time as he drinks you in, finally re-emerging with shining lips and wild eyes. Wiping the excess of you off with the back of his hand, he crawls back up your body to kiss you, practically pushing your entire self into the mattress. “God, you are fucking incredible,” he grins against your skin as he moves to kiss your neck, this time just under your other ear.

“I can’t even pretend the same’s not true of you, a certain something’s betrayed me, there,” you joke, and he chuckles under his breath, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “Be honest with me, though. It wasn’t… Too much, was it?”

“Not in the slightest, babe,” he whispers into your ear as he presses gentle pecks along your jaw and to your lips. “I’d happily stay down there and eat you out all night long, but…” He pushes himself up to kneeling, palming himself through his boxers as he looks at you hungrily. “I am fucking aching to be inside of you,” he admits. You go to reach out as well, but he bats you away with a soft smirk, “I’m already certain I’m not gonna last long at all, sweets, give me some credit.”

“I don’t care how long you last,” you smile wistfully, watching him climb off you and slide his boxers off, hypnotised by the way his cock springs out as the elastic waistband drags past it.

He glances over as he takes a condom out of his drawer and smirks, “Take a photo, won’t ya, it’ll last longer.” You’d react, but you’re still enamoured watching him roll it down his length.

He gets back onto the bed, lining himself up at you with a look in his eye like he can’t believe it’s finally happening. You feel his tip pressing into you and gasp, your lips forming a near-perfect O before spreading out into a smile. Tom mirrors you as his hands find yours, holding them both just either side of you as he pushes in. You certainly feel the pressure of him sliding in, but it’s far from painful. His eyes study your expression with concern, obviously anticipating you to be in pain as well, but you give him a reassuring smile and a nod as he starts pulling out and pushing himself back inside of you again.

His fingers and his tongue were enough to drive you wild earlier, but nothing on this earth has ever made you feel as good as him thrusting into you. He starts off slow and gentle, but your body yearns for more. As you start to buck your hips up against him, he once again rubs the tip of his nose against yours, stroking his thumbs along the sides of your hands as he shushes you. “Patience, sweets,” he soothes. “We’ve got all summer to fuck like rabbits… But tonight, I just wanna make love to you.”

Too euphoric to filter anything you say now, you breathe out an, “I do.” Tom looks at you, his expression a mixture of deliberation and elation. You beam widely, “You may be a dickhead, but I fucking love you.”

His smile practically touches his ears as he cradles your face with an, “I love you, an’ all, you big twat,” before leaning down to kiss you passionately, moaning against your lips with every thrust. As you lose yourself in the embrace, you feel Tom slip out from you. Again, you start to worry yourself, but Tom’s assuring stroke against your cheek as he simply guides himself back in and returns to kissing you with just as much fervour puts those fears at ease.

You feel the crescendo of another orgasm looming just as Tom’s expression starts to change, as well. Wanting nothing more than to climax alongside him, you try and hurry yourself along a little by rubbing your clit in circles. His pace slows as he watches you, entranced, though your body craves him more than ever. “Fuck, please, Tom, don’t stop,” you whine, and he groans as he resumes rocking his hips into you again.

“God, you’re so fucking hot, you know that?” He asks you breathlessly. “Keep going, baby, keep showing me how you touch yourself, fuck, that’s it.” 

“’M gett- fuck, I’m already close again, Tom,” you moan, and his motions lose any sense of rhythm, just trying desperately to release.

“Me too, sweets, I’m - fuck, I love you,” he groans as he snaps his hips harshly into you. That final press hits just the right spot inside of you and you feel yourself come apart for him yet again, squeezing around him as you ride your second wave of the night.

As you both come down, he presses soft kisses all over your face, down your neck, as far down your chest as he can reach while staying inside you until he finally pulls out. “I’d help you out again, but, uh, I think you’re probably a bit sensitive down there by now,” he grins, leaning up to kiss your forehead. “Let me go get rid of this thing and get you a towel, alright?” Unable to move, talk, or even really think, you simply nod at him, which earns you another breathy chuckle and another peck to the top of your head as he walks off.

He returns within a minute, and insists on gently patting you dry, the tenderness in his eyes matching his touch. You eventually muster enough energy to reach over to him and card your fingers through his curls. He leans into your touch, smiling over at you as you mutter, “I love you, too.”

“D’you know, I’ve never been happier to hear anything else.”

Once you’re all cleaned up, he lays next to you, and you lift yourself up to let his arm rest beneath your head. Curling up against his chest, you let him envelope you, enjoying the comfortable silence until he pipes up, “That was fucking amazing. Like, I knew it’d be good, but… You hear all these things about your first time. And I was always scared with Ruth that I’d mess up somehow, or I’d kill the mood, you know how daft I am. But it was all just… Part of it, weren’t it?”

You press your head into the crook of his shoulder. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I was always scared of the same, and then, well…” You gesture down between your legs.

“’Ey,” Tom scolds, reaching down to grab your wrist. “No more of that. It’s just the way your body works, yeah? And your body is fucking perfect. I’ll never stop proving that to you.”

And he really doesn’t. When you had first disclosed to Hayley that you were a virgin, the previous year when you’d come with your ex, she’d told you, “Sex is like Pringles; once you pop, you just can’t stop. At least, I think that’s the Pringles thing.” You’d always laughed that off, but now that it’s happened to you, it really is true. You wake up to it, you’re at it as soon as he’s finished his shift, just before you go to sleep. And then there’s the rest. Passing him while he’s working to sneakily grab, pinch or slap his ass cheek as you walk past, only for him to get his own back by “innocently cuddling” you from behind while also pressing himself against your own ass just once before placing a single kiss to your neck and running off. Your personal favourite is knowing all you have to do is send him a racy photo of you proving that you’re wearing one of his shirts and nothing else, and knowing that if you look out of the window you’ll see him running across the caravan park at top speed, leaping over any obstacle to then practically fly into his caravan and tackle you onto his bed.

You still try and maintain staying with Hayley for as long as possible, but with her being the evening entertainment, and her telling you that she was banning “all hanky-panky” at her place, that didn’t leave you with much else to do to spend your evenings than to hang out in Tom’s caravan with him, anyway. Not that she minded. Even when she would insist on a you-and-her day, it would mostly be to gossip about Tom, anyway.

There’s a few days when you start to wonder if perhaps Tom only wants you around for sex and nothing else. That all gets easily explained away when eventually Mother Nature clocks in for her monthly shift. You warn Tom that nothing can happen for the next week, and that you’ll probably just stay at Hayley’s again to avoid any stained sheets or exposure to sanitary products, but Tom remains as joined to your hip as ever. He buys heating pads, pain relief, snacks and drinks, extra products, anything you may need, happily letting you curl up in his lap in an attempt to soothe the cramps. A few days in, you even open up to him that you’d had doubts that he was only interested in getting into your pants, which results in many days’ worth of constant reassurance whenever you’re with him and texts of affirmations when you’re not. He certainly doesn’t turn down the gratuitous blowjob you give him as a result of being so patient on a night you know Hayley’s working especially late, though.

The last weekend of the last week of you being in Cornwall hits you like a brick wall. You’re constantly getting emotional, which only spikes every time you so much as look at Hayley or Tom. Tom reminds you that you’ll only see him in a couple of weeks anyway, once you move up north to university. And Hayley makes you both promise you’ll come back to Cornwall at every chance you can.

Tom meets you and your family in the car park of your uni halls, already waiting to help you move in. Both of your families have dinner together while yours are still in town, and as they part, they joke that the next time they’ll see each other is at your wedding. With your ex, even trying to plan to go to the same university together seemed daunting and unnatural. But you laugh along with Tom, safe in the knowledge that your collective parents’ joke is 100% truthful.

Age 19

After a year of university, you decide to move out of your dorm and into a place with Tom. Your first housemate, you love to remind him, though that spikes up a slightly more awkward conversation while cuddled up on the sofa. “So, we were first for a lot of things.”

“Well, yeah, that’s kind of our thing,” Tom teases.

“Piss off,” you scoff, elbowing him in the side as he laughs. “I mean, we were for pretty much everything, but not where it counts. You weren’t my first boyfriend, and I wasn’t your first, either. So, like, in terms of the way our relationship goes on through the years… I dunno, just sucks a bit that that’s like one of the only things we don’t have now.”

Tom deliberates for a second. “The way I like to see it,” he starts. “I consider you my first for a lot of sort of extraneous things, little things that add up to make us, us. But in terms of our relationship, it’s easy enough to explain.” You look over at him in confusion, and he takes the opportunity to take your chin between his finger and thumb to grin at you, pulling you close to mutter three words to you before pressing a long and sweet kiss to your lips: “You’re my only.”

[thevelaryons]

Addam’s bond with Seasmoke is so powerful that from the very beginning, his feelings become in tune with his dragon.

When Sheepstealer, a much larger and more formidable dragon, attempts to kill Addam’s little brother, he is stopped by Seasmoke:

Sheepstealer proved easier to flush out, but he remained a vicious, ill-tempered beast, who killed more seeds than the three castle dragons together. One who hoped to tame him (after his quest for Grey Ghost proved fruitless) was Alyn of Hull. Sheepstealer would have none of him. When he stumbled from the dragon’s lair with his cloak aflame, only his brother’s swift action saved his life. Seasmoke drove the wild dragon off as Addam used his own cloak to beat out the flames.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

Addam was surely able to act so quickly because Seasmoke was so responsive to his will. Time and time again, it’s shown that dragons respond to the emotions of their riders. Seasmoke would have felt Addam’s intent to protect Alyn and so he reacted accordingly.

Like I’ve mentioned before, Addam has a very careful control over how he uses his dragon to enact violence. Seasmoke is never shown going out of his way to burn anyone because that is simply not his rider’s wish. The only time he acts to kill is in the two big battles he participates in: The Gullet and Second Tumbleton. Both these times, the acts of violence are deliberate.

Apart from those instances, Addam just uses his dragon as a means to protect others.

Collectively, rider and dragon are positioned as shields. From the very first moment he was claimed to the moment of their deaths, Seasmoke responds to his rider’s will with a swiftness to protect others from harm:

Almost a hundred years old and as large as the two young dragons put together, the bronze dragon with the great tan wings was in a rage as he took flight, with blood smoking from a dozen wounds. Riderless, he knew not friend from foe, so he loosed his wroth on all, spitting flame to right and left, turning savagely on any man who dared to fling a spear in his direction. One knight tried to flee before him, only to have Vermithor snatch him up in his jaws, even as his horse galloped on. Lords Piper and Deddings, seated together atop a low rise, burned with their squires, servants, and sworn shields when the Bronze Fury chanced to take note of them.

An instant later, Seasmoke fell upon him.

Alone of the four dragons on the field that day, Seasmoke had a rider. Ser Addam Velaryon had come to prove his loyalty by destroying the Two Betrayers and their dragons, and here was one beneath him, attacking the men who had joined him for this fight. He must have felt duty bound to protect them, though surely he knew in his heart that his Seasmoke could not match the older dragon.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

[pendarling]

Prom

Sorry for being ded guys

Another problem with the school was their outlandish events that went further than it was supposed to. 

When prom started, it started hard.

Students left and right fell to their knees for the chance to ask out their seasonal crushes. It was unbearable for the teenage hero. They couldn't stand watching half of their friends do the same despite their claim that "prom is stupid."

Honestly, there was still an entire week left of classes, and nobody even bothered to study for the approaching exams. Libraries would be a hangout hotspot for students looking to skip class and find time to spend with their date.

It pissed them off.

Hero simmered in annoyance and pushed their textbooks to the side of their locker. There was just one more class, and then they'd leave here for the day. 

"Hey Hero~!"

Hero recognized that irritating voice, their callous and predacious enemy, had managed to sneak into their personal life as much as they already existed in their life behind the mask. They couldn't stand seeing them, maybe more than seeing all these lover birds come together.

Hero glared at Villain's relaxed figure as they pressed their body against the lockers and looked at them, almost expecting them to say something back. Anything, as long as it kept them entertained, but today, they wouldn't let Villain become the death of them. They had more pressing issues, and it wasn't just the exams. 

"Aw~ c'mon... you're not gonna say anything to me?" Villain followed behind Hero when they turned to leave quickly. They grazed a hand along Hero's back, begging them to turn around, "Lemme hear that pretty voice, darlin'. I'm starting to think you're still mad at me from last night?"

Villain's hand was slapped off them; piercing eyes stared at their own, "Don't say it like that." They spoke in a harsh whisper, but Villain could barely make out the words under all the traffic in the halls.

"Say it like what?" They jokingly shrugged. 

"You know what I mean..." They mumbled and walked off again, but not until Villain noticed the blush growing on their face. 

Chemistry class was always the hardest to understand, not for Hero; luckily, their gifted supernatural powers came with a bit of science. However, they hated that this was the only class they shared with Villain because it was Villain's worst subject. 

They were forcibly seated next to Villain, with the teacher having high hopes that Hero would somehow teach Villain all they needed. 

As soon as the teacher left the room, they were given a silent period to work on the equations. Of course, the class found this opportunity to do the opposite and erupted into loud conversations and laughter. Hero found that even though they were working, Villain still managed to talk more than necessary. Rambling on and on about... what they shouldn't be in coded sentences. Hero had begun to believe it was Villain's way of making their shared lives outside of school feel more intricate than it really was

"I thought I was a goner yesterday; you totally had me back there--" they chuckled loosely with every obscure phrase. 

They felt the stare of their enemy when their one-sided conversation began to die down. They gave them a slight glance and caught Villain's head resting over their arms on the desk as they stared at them. It was a gaze out of admiration; it made Hero blush momentarily before regaining their senses.

"You-- don't have anything better to do?" Hero finally grumbled lowly, attempting to cover the embarrassment along their face. 

Villain thought for a second; they leaned their chair back and forth, "No one is even working on this crap. Look around!" Hero momentarily lifted their eyes off the page and caught the classroom in its own world; groups of students were talking rather loudly. Strangely, they didn't notice, but perhaps their lack of concern for others and their obsession to get the work done drowned out the noises. 

It didn't bother Hero what everyone else was doing; only that Villain was trying to get them out of their bubble. "I'm not interested. " They returned to the paper. 

"God, you're so boring sometimes y'know? It's like..." They searched for their words. "Two different people. One that's a complete nerd and the other--" Their eyes lit up, "Ooh, the other is a total badass."

They sighed, "Is there a reason why you're still talking to me?"

That sentence gave Hero what they wanted. Silence, Villain ignored them and fiddled with their pencil nonchalantly. They blinked several more times and looked at the ceiling, contemplating their next choice of words. 

Hero frowned when the conversation ended and continued their work in peace for the rest of the class.

Students clamoured out of the rooms as the bell rang. Villain had expertly tidied up their corner of the desk quickly and now observed Hero's hands fumble around for their books. They picked up a few of their spare notes and helped them finish up for the rest of the day. 

It was unusual for Villain to wait patiently by them, their eyebrow raised at what game they were playing this time. 

The class filtered out, leaving just the two of them in the silent room. 

"Hero," Villain called. Their voice began to sound much smaller than usual, the joking yet malicious sounds no longer present. Their eyes calmed for a second and took in their sincerity. 

Could it be?

They never took Villain for a cheesy romantic, but the idea that they were giving it an attempt made their heart soar. A fuzzy feeling grew in their chest at the prospect of being asked out to prom; what would it be like? What would this change?

Villain rubbed the back of their neck sheepishly, looking at the door, worried anyone might casually stroll in and disrupt the moment. "Uhh... Listen, I know you're not much for this sort of thing, but--"

Their hesitation worried Hero; of course, they'd made a few off-handed comments at the ridiculous open shows of affection in the halls, but that was just their first instinct. It didn't stop them from wanting something similar; that wasn't selfish, was it?

"Yea?" They pushed, hoping that they wouldn't quit now. 

"Well, I was thinking, since a lot-- I mean... I don't usually do this, but since it's been a while... and we--"

"Spit it out already." They scoffed and took a step forward. "I knew you would do this, you're so obvious."

"Seriously, lemme get to it." Villain felt flush; they took a deep breath, "Hero, would you like to... go to prom with me?"

They smiled warmly from ear to ear and let the part of their heart show on their sleeve; under the glow of Villain's charm, they couldn't resist. They nodded softly, the idea beginning to take hold of them that it wasn't wrong to be a little in high spirits for prom. 

~~~ MASTERLIST

[enemyoflactose]

I Finished the Rest of Battle City

@lostsomewhereinthegarden wanted to be tagged

I was honestly getting a little tired of Marik and his problems by this point in the series which is why this took so long.

Voice acting:

Marik: THEY TOOK AWAY HIS SKELETOR VOICE

Characters:

Yami: He's pretty much the same, only he completely forgives normal Marik.

Yugi: pretty much the same only he forgives normal Marik.

Joey: he died and I started crying. He's pretty good as always and was absolutely robbed of that victory.

Téa: she kept getting possessed.

Tristan: nothing new

Duke: nothing new

Ryou: ate all the donuts

Yami Bakura: he giggled and did nothing.

Ishizu: she yells in lowercase and I think that's funny

Odion: Maybe it's just the dub, but he never says he wants Marik to be safe because he loves him. He just says it's his duty and it's how he'll be accepted into his family. Idk. It's a little weird that this may be his and Marik's final moments and he doesn't once say that he loves him.

Marik: I hate you. I hate you so much.

Yami Marik: hype wore off this guy sucks and can't duel without plot armor. He also talks way too much and it gets on my nerves.

Seto Kaiba: he's so angry that Yugi beat him in his own tournament it's kinda funny. He is my savior in these last episodes.

Mokuba: he's here

Serenity: she's also here

Mai: ded

Roland: the MVP

Duels:

Duel 1: Four Way Duel

In this duel Joey, Kaiba, Yami, and Yami Marik are all dueling each other at the same time. For a little bit, everyone is targeting Joey, but Yami keeps defending him so they move on to attacking Marik.

Every time Yami defends Joey, Kaiba says something snarky and that makes Joey go "Hey man, let me duel on my own for Mai."

And Yami just begrudgingly does it. Like this man does not want Joey dueling Marik.

Marik is just in his own little corner going "AHAHAHAAA I'm so evil" and everyone ignores him.

Kaiba is trying to knock out someone. I forgot who. He wants to get all three Egyptian God Cards and make his deck even brickier.

Yami Marik loses.

Duel 2: Joey vs Yami Marik

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥💪🪓💥PEAK💥🎉💯💯🔥💯💯❤️‍🔥⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡🦅🦅🦅

This duel is Yami Marik's only good duel, and by God is it Joey's second best (I like Joey vs Valon more).

In this duel, Yami Marik makes it a Shadow Game in which your energy gets drained if your monster is destroyed or loses attack points. Because Joey is a normal guy, he is weaker to this and therefore loses faster.

Some stuff happens and Joey was given Lava Golem. This makes him lose life points faster. Yami Marik is slowly burning him with other cards like nightmare wheel, but lava golem is cooler.

Yami Marik uses some worm things to make Joey lose more energy. Joey sacrifices them so he can summon Geilfried (idk how to spell it).

Yami Marik summons Ra Phoenix mode and destroys all of Joey's monsters. But my boy still stands.

Joey summons Gearfried and almost attacks, but then he dies.

Duel 3: Kaiba vs Yami

I kept dozing off during this duel because I was worried about Joey, soooooo I kinda have no clue what happened other than like a few things.

Kaiba and Yami are dueling in a coliseum because Kaiba is crazy.

Kaiba gives Yami Change of Heart sometime during this duel. Which makes me wonder if he always had that on hand, or if he yoinked it from Bakura. Did Bakura ever get it back?

Kaiba so summons his blue eyes at some point in this duel. And Yami summons red eyes. And that Dark Magician Paladin thing.

During this duel Kaiba and Yami attack each other with their god cards and it takes them to a vision of the past in which the gods are turned to stone and the two of them are fighting.

Yami Marik is stuck in a wall. One time I read a fic where Yami Bakura stopped time and butt fucked him there. Wild.

Yami wins by means I don't remember and Mokuba and Kaiba fight about something.

INTERMISSION

Téa gets possessed again and goes to fight Yami Marik.

Kaiba gets annoyed at Ishizu and then Joey.

Mokuba is annoyed at Kaiba.

Yami Marik and Marik are fighting during Kaiba and Joey's duel.

TéaMarik does some sick flips and then Ishizu and Yami intervene and make Yami Marik go away.

Turns out Marik is a little regretful about being the absolute worst and wants to make things right by doing not much at all because he sucks and can't do shit without help.

Téa is back.

Duel 4: Kaiba vs Joey

Joey was pissing off Kaiba and that convinced a duel for third place.

Kaiba is winning.

Joey summons Blue Eyes White Dragon from Kaiba's graveyard and this makes Kaiba so angry.

Uuuuhhhh.... Joey told Mokuba that Kaiba doesn't care about him and that made me really upset.

Some stuff happens idk I wasn't paying attention I don't really care about this rivalry.

Kaiba won and Joey got made fun of.

Final duel: Yami Marik vs Yami Yugi

Shadow game

I don't remember the first part of this duel other than Marik and Yugi are at risk of death and like I get caring about Yugi dying, but Marik kinda deserves it.

So um... Every time Yami loses life points Yugi's body starts to disappear. Same thing with Marik.

Yami summons his poker knights and then summons Slifer.

Marik Summons Ra.

Yami destroys Ra and then Summons Obelisk with A card Kaiba gave him.

Marik summons Egyptian God slime and Yami never asks what it does despite the fact that he can.

Some stuff happens and Yami uses Ragnarok and destroys everything and Marik surrenders.

HOW AND WHY MARIK SURRENDERED

While this duel is happening, Normal Marik is talking to Odion's dead body and says that everything that happened was his (Marik's) fault, and that he's sorry.

A while later, Odion wakes up and goes to save Marik. And by save I mean give him a pep talk.

He goes on and on about how Marik is good and can beat the darkness inside of him.

Marik is given a new found strength and tells Yami to attack him.

Yami attacks him and Marik has one life point left. Marik surrenders and Yami Marik dies while begging.

Marik is forgiven and I still don't think he did much to deserve it.

Afterwards

After that duel, Marik apologizes again, and then takes his shirt off to show Yami the scriptures on his back.

Yami can't read it tho so it was kinda pointless.

Marik then gives him the millennium rod and ring and Yami Bakura's lame ass who was playing spin the bottle with Dark Magician said "Thank you" because he's polite and we love him.

Kaiba says he's going to blow up the island.

Joey and the gang go check on Mai and Serenity says she ain't wake up yet, but then she wakes up because Joey juST GOT PRANKED LMAO

The Gang then find Bakura eating food because there isn't much to eat in the Shadow Realm. That makes me think that the Shadow Realm is biased towards the Bakurae because they always only get a slap on the wrist for losing.

We don't see Bakura or the Ishtar's for the rest of the episode so I'm choosing to believe they were busy adopting Bakura into their family as Marik's husband.

It takes the gang way too long to realize that they can just take the helicopter and don't have to ride in the broken aircraft.

The island explodes and the Kaibas come out in a Blue Eyes jet (there is a card of it).

This makes Joey upset.

The squad get back to Domino and Marik apologizes again, and his siblings thank Yugi and his friends for helping them.

The End

[tinytinybumblebee]

☆Carer Cooper and carer The Ghoul hcs☆

Cooper

- Softest carer! He is gentle and takes his time with any question or concerns his tiny one would be having

- "Us cowpokes stick together." Is definitely something you'd hear him say quite often when he's lifting his tiny one onto the bed with him after they've had a scary dream

- Sooo sweet to shy tiny ones who are meeting him in an actor/fan scenario (you can take the "tinys are known" universe out of ny cold ded hands) he'll smile and gets to their level (even if they're taller than him physically!) and be like "Now, who might this cowboy/girl/poke be?" And chat with them to coax them out of their shell ;u;

- Lets them help him practice his lines (aka: just a big ol' play time because within 2 minutes they've gone off script and now are going on a space adventure xD)

☆☆

The Ghoul

- The wasteland has hardened Cooper. It spat venom when he reached out with kindness. Why should he allow softness when it's just either going to be painfully snatched from him or burry him 6 feet under?

It's safe to say that Ghoul hasn't cared for a tiny one in a long, long time.

Sure, he's probably seen tiny ones during his journeys, but he tries to turn a blind eye on them, pretending he isn't aware of that familial ache deep in his chest that, even after all these centuries, wants to reach out and ruffle their hair

- It takes a very special person and very specific circumstances that'll bring out the carer that still clings onto the hallow shell of a pre-war times. But, when these things line up, it's fairly sublet. It's not a mushy, gushy type of carer.

Rather, it's small things. Perhaps he lays his duster over their lap (he says it's just because all that damm shivering is going to shake their camp spot down) shares his water or bits of food or even just sitting slightly closer to them as he starts talking about something that seems incredibly random (like facts about the wasteland, pre-war animals, etc) but really he's just trying to soothe them with his words ;u;

- Totally picks up random toys for his tiny one. Saying he's just nabbing it for some extra caps, but is thinking about his tiny ones reaction of a new toy♡

[hausofmamadas]

Plastic Gangster | Anatoly Givenchy Romanov

(He is modern man but don’t even think about trying to play tickle fuck with him bc he is serious man too)

The Gentleman, Episode 3 - Where’s My Weed At?

∴

So, remember how I actually despised this tiny, angry little mess of a man until I’d lain eye on his alter ego. Well comrades, this is that alter ego.

And what exactly is it about this scene that turned me around so drastically? where literally like if my body were a car, my brain’s grabbing the steering wheel and pistol whipping it, full 180 in the opposite direction as fast as Tam’s pitching that McLaren around the parking lot ?

OHHHH I don't know.... could it be the over-the-top, Boris-and-Natasha, his-and-hers Russian accents? Could it be the fact that they clearly do it against Eddie's explicit instructions? that he prob recited like a drill sergeant in the car no doubt, to avoid another I-just-killed-someone-E-I-E-I-O!!!!! on the way there ORRR could it be the fact that for whatever reason the shit seems to work? bc like somehow it does work, and in a way that Eddie's strategy was super .... not, at least in terms of getting them into the building.

Idk if Mama Mercy was so put off by the accents, she just wanted to get the sale over with, or if she heard the words, "Little Leopard Lady” and/or “FUCK. money” come out of ‘Anatoly's’ mouth, and decided that only someone with more money than God would say some edge-lord shit like that out loud. Whatever it is? It fucking works. Mercy caves. Okay and she was stone-walling tf out of Eddie who's wildly capable of doing pretty much anything and everything else except this. But for Anatoly it’s red carpet, the whole PIA pain-in-the-ass VIP treatment.

And I think the reason this success is so remarkable is bc at this point, the stakes are high, and yet the bar for Freddie is so low, it might as well be the core of the earth. Like he's managed to fuck things up so consistently and with such catastrophic results, if there was a drunk, coke-sniffing, constantly-crying version of the Tasmanian devil, Fredward would be Her, okay. But this is one thing he does correctly, the first thing in the entire show (this is ep 3 of 7, for reference), the first moment when he shows a modicum of value besides being hilarious for reasons that are usually-but-not-always accidental to the scooby gang as it were.

And honestly?? it kinda makes sense that, in this case, he comes thru in a way Eddie can't. Bc what the actual fuck has Fredward Horniman been doing all his life, if not bullshitting bouncers and promoters, charming them enough so they lift up those red, velvet ropes to exclusive (read: pretentious) underground clubs, boxing matches, raves, bath houses, key parties bc no one will convince me he and Tam don't love a good key party once in a while. No one will, it just won't happen like Freddie has CONMAN written all over him, doesn't he? Not necessarily like good? con-man? okay he's no Madoff, right but good enough that he can make you think for a split second, if you really tilt your head and squint your eyes, that this person must be telling the truth.

Bc only someone telling the truth would feel comfortable acting that fucking unbelievable.

Like who would look this woman in the face and say without an ounce of irony, “listen, in my life funny little lady, if you are not safe…. You are DED” I mean the only thing missing is him dragging his finger across his neck, all miming a guillotine. FREDDIE. FREDDIE FUCKING HORNIMAN, THATS WHO.

Beautifultropicalfish Edwina makes the mistake of trying to sell a believable story, a lie grounded in too much reality, when it's clear that the clientele for Mama Mercy prob consists of like eccentric arms-dealers and kooky billionaires ppl with some really sus, really weird, uniquely terrifying ‘hobbies’ that none of us ever want to know about but that will inevitably be the subject of a true-crime doc on HBO someday. Like this woman speaks to the most mind-blowingly ridiculous men on the daily.

And is Eddie over here with his sexy professor cardigan and sexy look-im-such-a-bookworm glasses, rolling up to negotiate on behalf of some white-collar-crime, new-money, C-suite, tech exec with ‘only’ a seven-figure salary, when really he needs to be coming at this with more of that oil tycoon, crimes-against-humanity, Fuck-You-Money energy that Freddie's serving.

Eddie also just can’t seem to suppress the Narc vibes that are seeping from his pores and tbh it’s actually what makes him such a great gangster but not a great con man. Bc Mercy sniffs him out p much every time he speaks, like so👆

Now, it's unclear if Freddie enacts Operation!BorisandNatasha in response to Eddie's evident flailing or if he planned to do it the entire time but either way, you cannot tell me he's not responsible for them being able to get into the chop shop to test drive that car. Bc again, it’s not enough to just walk into this place and act like you belong there. In this case, acting like you belong has to be: giving a ruthless, machete-wielding murderer a cute nickname like “little leopard lady,” claiming that she “laaaavs” when you call her that even tho she seems less than enthused, pitching a fit about wanting something less “poof-poof,” and “more sexier,” and spitting general bars like, “don’t play tickle fuck with me, lady” BC WHO TF SAYS SHIT LIKE THAT UNLESS YOU HAVE MORE MONEY THAN GOD AND HEAVEN AND ALL THE COSMOS

And bc it's not entirely clear whether or not Freddie decided to do this on the fly, I feel liek it’s one of those choose-your-own adventures situations. So I, for one, choose to believe that this was a plan deployed in the face of Eddie's plan not working, and for all of his flaws, Freddie is savvy enough to know how to bullshit someone to get his foot in the door. Bc I firmly believe he can be competent juuuuuuust long enough and lbr probly only long enough to do that.

I mean cmon look at Mercy👇you know she thinks he’s a lil funny

And as if the above display of uncharacteristic competence wasn’t enough, I’m more endeared to Freddie bc of how crazy he is about his wife. And why tf wouldn’t he be when she’s clearly way too cool for him which he seems to be vaguely aware of just casual busting out these moves ripped straight from from stunt choreography of like the fucking Italian Job or something and for like exactly no???????reason????whatsoever?????

Which brings me to the next point bc can we talk for a bajillion yrs about Tamzin is out-of-fucking-nowhere an incredible stunt!driver/renaissance!woman??? and they drop that on us and move on like I'm not asking a bajillion questions like whywhenandhow’d she learn to do this????

Like???? was she once, in her early 20s, engaged to an F1 racecar driver who taught her all the Ways of the Track before he tragically died in an accident, and in her grief, sought solace in a boy named Freddie, whomst she met at a race once, and then later married??? Was she a stunt double who worked on hollywood sets, appearing in some of the most critically lauded, well-known movies, before she settled down and married an aristocrat for his money, a boy named Freddie, whomst she met once at an afterparty, and then despite his lack of wealth bc she was in way too deep at that point and made the fatal mistake of actually falling in love later married??? Is she the long, lost daughter of legendary stunt performer, daredevil himself, Evel Kneivel who taught her everything she needed to know about her birthright before shipping her off to boarding school in the UK when she was just a lass, and then grew up and was charmed by a boy named Freddie, whomst she met when her all-girl’s high school or secondary school whatever tf they call it was paired up with his all-boys high school at a cotillion, and then later married???

I NEED ANSWERS, RICHIE. COUGH UP SOME ANSWERS, MAN. OR DON'T, BUT BRING TAM BACK, WE NEED MORE TAM IN S2, IT'S OFFICIALLY A MANDATE.

taglist: @drabbles-mc, @narcolini, @bellinitini, @ashlingiswriting, @when-did-this-become-difficult, @noctuabunda

[asmrbrainrot]

🤒🥺🔴 for blood moon gator boys please

Marco:

🤒- To be honest he gets very quiet when he’s not feeling well. Like, deathly quiet. He mostly just sleeps when he’s ill, but if it’s really bad he might collect some herbs or something to self medicate. Though, again, he gets very eepy. So like, he generally does not have the spoons for that. You’ll have to wake him up to make sure he’s getting enough food and fluids. (or to make sure he’s not ded lol.) He certainly isn’t opposed to you taking care of him so long as you aren’t trying to touch/cuddle with him. He’s already touch adverse, so he really doesn’t want it when he’s not feeling good. He won’t verbally express his gratitude, but he enjoys knowing someone wants to take care of him.

🔴- “Ugh gross, is it catching? No? Good.” “….What!? No! Stay over there, I’m not going to risk it! Besides I don’t want you making a mess. Timmy already gets blood on everything as is.”

Sorry bros that’s probably the most you’re gonna get outta him. No sympathy whatsoever.

Timmy:

🤒- Bro does not care if he’s sick, he’ll still run around and do his own thing regardless. (Much to the annoyance of Marco who refuses to go near him but still ends up catching whatever he had anyway.) You can try to take care of him, but he really won’t rest if he doesn’t want to. He’s basically feral in this Au. Eventually though, he’ll run himself ragged and pass out wherever is most convenient for him before waking up feeling infinitely worse than before. At which point he’s just too sore to do anything and isn’t shy about letting you know how annoying it is he can’t be a goblin anymore. Earning some chastising from bug and the other Gator Boys. “If your gonna be dumb you gotta be tough.”

🔴- He’s very fascinated as to how something can bleed for seven days and not die. He may also ask morbidly curios/invasive questions like, “Oh so you can shed your own flesh once a months and not bleed out, but when I stab you ONE TIME, I’m “psychotic” and “can’t be trusted with sharp objects”!” But other than that not the best caretaker.

Bodie:

🤒- He definitely has a “I’ll just work through it.” mentality. At first he denies it, even gets defensive if you push him on it. But if you offered some one-on-one snuggle time, you might just get him to slow down. Just don’t leave him alone while he’s not feeling well, he’ll follow you like a lost puppy.

🥺- Okay so I didn’t answer for the other two just because Bodie was the only one who wasn’t actively trying to kill you. So Marco and Timmy would have about the same reaction. “Oh damn. Welp anyways-”

But Bodie I feel like would take it very seriously. Well depending on the type of injury. If you were struggling against restraints and got rope burn the response would probably be “Now bug, look wat’cha did. I warned you not to go upsettin yourself and now who’s paying for it?” But if it was HIS doing, that would be another story entirely.

🔴- So normal Bodie is already very accommodating, but bloodmoon Bodie turns attentive into obsessive. You better make that bed your best friend because you are NOT leaving. That being said, Bodie puts everything on hold to make sure your taken care of. Anything you need, just ask! (Anything except for being left alone)

[thought-42]

Somebody has to leave first

Star Wars, 1400 words,Ezra Bridger Something something growing up something something ded parent something something Ezra Bridger in the Chiss Ascendancy. I've never heard of canon in my life.

Ezra Bridger talks to dead people.

They do not, it should be noted, talk back.

He knows all things are possible within the Force, so he's always gotta keep in mind that his monologues run the very real risk of becoming dialogues, probably at the most embarrassing or inconvenient times, but honestly if a ghost has nothing better to do than listen in on his diary entries to the beyond that says more about them than it does about him.

He doesn't talk to Kanan. It seems like the obvious assumption, follow in the shuffling footsteps of Obi-Wan Kenobi and claw out frantically for a point of stability to serve as compass in a world gone upside down. And there was a time where a smile or a few words of pride from Kanan was all Ezra needed to reinforce his foundations and stand tall and ready. But the truth of it is, he doesn't know if Kanan would be proud of him, which would be less of a problem if Ezra himself had any uncertainty about his life choices.

Besides, even ten years on every time he thinks about that last glimpse of Kanan, wreathed in flames, he wants to dig his fingers into his skin and deeper and pull and pull until the memory and the sick feeling in his stomach are gone. He cannot think about it. It is an impossibility, it is not something his mind is capable of bearing, the idea of another living person who he loves burning and burning and burning is not something that can live inside of him sustainably. He thinks of Kanan and he feels sick and sad and selfish for not being able to focus on all the good memories.

No, Ezra doesn't talk to Kanan. Ezra talks to people he has only ever known in death.

He talks to  Master Mace Windu and tells him he wishes he knew how to see shatterpoints. Ezra is good at building connections, building bridges, yeah yeah yeah, but every web has one thread at risk, one point where a quick pull will unravel the whole thing. Ezra's had his entire life shattered twice before with no warning, he would really love to know how to prevent the inevitable third round. . Shouldn't this skill just come free with the lineage?

He talks to Thrass-- "can I call you Thrass?" Everybody says Thrawn needed a brother, and yeah, ok, his older brother died and Thrawn went off the rails there for a hot eighteen years, but Ezra's here now, reporting for little brother duty twenty years late with caccoleaf; but better late than never, right? It feels right, picking up Thrass's flag in the relay of Sky Walker investigation and running hard and fast with it as far as he can go. Feels kinda like when Zeb would start a repair project on the Ghost and then leave the second half for Ezra to finish off with no need for explanation or request, just the trust that Ezra knows what to do. ...Thrawn kinda feels like one of those handed off projects, too, but Ezra doesn't even say that part to the dead, just in case they really are listening and decide to tell on him. Ezra never had an older sibling by blood, but they seem to adopt him everywhere he goes. He figures it's his turn to adopt one back, even if it is posthumous.

He talks to Master Depa, because, as his grandmaster, she's legally required to think he's doing a great job. He talks to her about being a teacher on a warship, asks how she delt with knowing every time she ruffled Caleb's hair over breakfast it could be the last.

He tells her every time he wonders if he permanently stained his soul with the dark he remembers that she came back as strong a Jedi as anybody could ask, and it really does make him trust in himself.

He thanks her for raising Caleb, although would it have killed her to teach him just a biiiit of Vaapad?

He tells her he understands, fundamentally, like a burning cole lodged in his ribcage, her desperate need to protect her student, to die so that he could live.

He tells her she would be proud of the man Caleb became, but that it probably wasn't what she expected. Caleb didn't grow up into Caleb. Caleb grew up into Kanan, and secretly Ezra always wonders if Kanan would have been someone who would have fit back in with the Jedi of his childhood.

Ezra's cabinet of entirely metaphorical ghosts all roll their eyes at this transparent attempt at obfuscation, because all the ghosts Ezra has made up to talk to are assholes.

Ok, fine. So maybe Ezra's pretty sure that the found family who gave Ezra Bridger, Jedi Padawan a home might not know what to do with Stybla'ezra'bridger, Jedi Navigator.

It had taken Ezra and sacher actual months, long nights  of sitting at Ezra's kitchen table with big sheets of paper and cheap wine, tossing potential names for their brand new program back and forth. They settled on Jedi Navigator mostly because Thrawn told them they had three days before the official paperwork had to be filed, and they hadn't come up with anything better that they could both agree on. Ezra hit submit on his part of the project proposal and that night he'd laid awake imagining a scenario where he got to tell Hera and Kanan-- "See? Jedi Navigator. Something from each of you."

He's heard the war is over. The Rebellion won and turned right back around to build another Republic. He's heard there's another Jedi --not Kanan, miraculously returned like Ezra dreams at least once a month-- and he's going to start a new order. And he's tried to imagine himself somewhere in all of that and it doesn't fit. He fit on a bunk bed in the Ghost with his family around him, doing their part to beat back the constant press of fascism. But there's no more Empire, no more family all squished together in one little ship. Even if he wanted to climb back into that bunk he knows his head would bump the top now.

The space between eighteen and twenty-eight feels like a lifetime. At eighteen Ezra had just gotten all his clay together and ready to be moulded into a person, and then he'd flung himself half way across the galaxy and wound up being moulded and fired in a different kilmn entirely. There's an Ezra somewhere out there who grew and changed right alongside that cramped little family, who moved forward in their orbit, chose his path and his place on the same game board. He probably knows how to fit in. He's probably working at the Jedi school or part of the reconstruction efforts on Lothal or a commander on a Republic ship stamping out the last remnants of the Empire.

Ezra's not jealous of this other version of himself, this what-if world he built in his own imagination specifically to hurt himself. He expected to be struck by the longing for home, by the bitterness of lost possibility. He isn't.

He can't tell Thrawn this because Thrawn spent eighteen years becoming something monstrous, shredding himself and everyone around him in an increasingly desperate dancing of 'I can fix this I can fix this I can fix this' and when he’d come back the hole his departure had left had long since healed over.

He can't tell Kanan this because--- the force of the explosion, maybe, was enough to make it quick--

Hera's a General now, apparently, and Ezra's certain it suits her just as he's certain even in a world where he'd stayed he wouldn't be asking a General for existential advice at 3:00 AM. Every thing he learns about what's happening in Lesser Space is a double-edged blade.

They aren't really supposed to know much at all-- not relevant, but Theliva keeps offering Ezra little nuggets of info about the Spectors like an awkward stepparent offering candy to win affection from a recalcitrant child. To which Ezra says, 'did you know it was actually just so easy not to join the Empire?' If Ezra's parents had been alive and he could have carried on their family legacy-- well. Isn't that what his whole life's been about, at the end of the day? Hauling around other people's legacies, trying to build something new out of the scattered pieces.

He offers himself up, everything he is on open palms to the gallery of ghosts, living and dead:

This is all I have to offer. It is enough.

[schweizercomics]

Companions of Christmas 19 & 20: Snegurochka and Ded Moroz!

Long ago, in the Vologda Forest in what is now Russia, a couple, unable to have children, made one out of snow, and so great was their love for each other, and their desire for a child, that the girl came to life. They named her Snegurochka, which means “Snow Maiden.”

Now, the Vologda, along with many of the eastern Slavic lands, had terrible winters, and those winters were ruled over by a fierce elemental tyrant, an ancient ice wizard named Morozko. In order to appease him, the Slavs would send their children to present him with gifts as a show of fealty, that he might have pity on them and lessen the severity of storms, and use the great chains he would forge from ice to shatter the frozen waters.

Though they were loath to send their dear Snegurochka on such a perilous journey, the couple had no choice; their neighbors all sent their children, and the couple must do likewise. So Snegurochka went, to present her gift.

Morozko had little interest in the children who would present his gifts, except as a symbol of the power of life and death that he wielded over the Slavs. But he was taken aback when he saw Snegurochka, who reminded him so of his own daughter, who had died long ago. He was so arrested by the sight of her, and so fresh was the remembered grief of his lost child, that he sent all of the children (with their gifts) away so that they wouldn’t see him weep his frozen tears.

The children were so excited to be returning with the gifts (of which the making and buying had presented such hardships to their families) that they built a fire in the woods to have a celebration before going home. They began to play a game, taking turns leaping over the fire. Little Snegurochka, as elated as her peers, joined in. And when it was her turn to leap over the fire, she did so, but no sooner had the little girl made of snow sailed over the flames than she melted away to vapor.

Morozko (who could feel all of the ice and snow in his domain) immediately felt her disappear, and he watched, helpless, as the vapor drifted into the sky. And he knew that he could not bear to lose another child of snow, even if this one was not his. 

Morozko tried to use his magic to return her to snow, but she was a creature borne of pure love, and magic alone cannot bind love. But he still tried, and drew from himself the deepest cold of all in the hopes that it would be enough - the ice that encased his frozen heart. 

Even that ancient and terrible ice was not enough to bring back Snegurochka.

But with his heart no longer frozen, the love long buried inside Morozko began to shine, and that love was all he needed to shape the vapor back into the snow maiden. 

A bit less strong, a bit less fierce, and much kinder, Morozko took Snegurochka safely back to her village, to her parents. And when he bid his farewell, Snegurochka threw her arms around him, and called him grandfather. And now this is what he is called by everyone, for “Ded Moroz” means “Grandfather Frost.” Ded Moroz never again demanded gifts, but instead brings gifts to children all over Russia and its neighbors during the darkest days of the year, accompanied by his adopted granddaughter.