#the craziest twists of life happen that way

[katiascraft]

✐ᝰ "You knew all too well i was right where you left me" | CL16 ࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊

parings: retired!charles leclerc x writer!ex!reader

series summary: It’s the story of a woman frozen in the moment her world fell apart. A perfect dinner ended with, “I met someone else,” and while everyone moved on, she remained stuck in that instant, unable to let go of the past. A poignant tale of heartbreak, grief, and the weight of being trapped in a “forever” that never was.

‎[one / two / three / four / current / six...]

chapter five

"there'll be happiness after you but there was happiness because of you too"

word count: 6k.

BLOG MASTERLIST - series masterlist

⋆˚࿔ i did something bad 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The kiss that started sweet and gentle turned into a passionate and steamy kiss in a fraction of a second. Franco felt kind of desperate. And to be fair, he was. He has waited his whole life for this moment to happen. Or at least all of these years since he met you. But he was convinced he won’t ever feel like this for any other girl in his entire life. He dated girls, fucked a few, played with them sometimes, tried to make it work. But none of them felt like you, laughed like you, thought like you, joked like you. None of them were you. And what was the craziest thing to him was that he had never tasted you. Not like this. He felt raised to heaven blessed by the gods. He felt like a kid who behaved properly and Santa brought him all of the presents he asked for during the year. A dream came true.  

His hands were all over your back and hips. His touch was warm and determined. He felt like he wanted to remember how you felt, the shape of you under his touch, how your skin felt, how warm he made you feel. 

His kisses were tracing a road down your neck. His lips were soft and wet. They made your skin crawl. Your fingers in his hair and shoulders trying to remain stood under his embrace. His skin was soft and his perfume was leaving you drunker by its whiskey scent. That smell defined him very well in your opinion. His skin was on fire. You couldn’t help but feel things you aren’t supposed to feel with your best friend. Well, you were doing things you’re not supposed to do with your bestie either. 

Your breath was heavy. Your heart rate elevated. He came back to your lips and the way he kisses you gently again burnt your body. You felt a heat you haven’t felt in a long time for anyone. If you didn’t remember to be this intense before. Franco was franco. And that implied that everything was different. Unique. He wasn’t like other guys. I mean, he was the most cheerful guy you have ever met. You couldn’t stop laughing around him. It  was impossible not to or have a serious conversation. But at the same time he was such a great listener. When you told him about Charles that you ended up crying, he was the most comforting person. You knew at that moment your friendship made a turn. A turn into one of the most precious relationships you have in your life. He was so comprehensive. It is actually so rare to meet someone like that in this fucked up society these days. 

And for some reason or maybe for all of those reasons, this felt really wrong. You didn’t want to hurt him. You always knew he liked you, of course you did. It was obvious. The way he looked at you. All out of context presents or compliments. All of his invitations to every grand prix during the year. The facetime calls at random times in the day just to check in. and you liked all of that but always tried to make sure you didn’t play with his feelings. Respecting spaces and distances. Codes. He was really important to you, you just couldn’t risk him just like that. Just for a kiss or sex. He deserved to be so happy with someone 100% into him. And you kinda hated destiny for making him like you when you were stuck with Charles and always into someone else (even failing every time). 

But now you hate yourself even more. Not only because you liked to torture yourself in a really twisted way. But also because you were actually kissing him and touching him in not a friendly way. Not the way you’re supposed to touch him. Or to kiss him. Or to spend your time with him. This was so wrong. You knew this would lead to drama. And the worst part is that you couldn’t stop. And maybe you didn’t want to. And why didn’t you? What is your brain planning to do? Making every situation you’re in worse than the previous one. 

And it was the worst scenario possible. You don’t know how you both ended up in Franco's room. His shirt was already off. Your lips were kissing his stomach going down. It was the best situation for him, that’s for sure. You promised to never get this drunk ever again. You stood up after reaching his boxers with your lips. And kissed him again like you wanted to rescued yourself from fuck it all up but at the same time not stopping at all. You were driving Franco insane and for a moment he felt a bit empty. Was this the beginning of something? Or was it just a once in a lifetime night? Thinking about all of this started hunting him. You have never given him signs that you liked him back. But you were one of his best friends. His hands grabbed your head possessively bringing you closer to him starting to lead you to his bed. You followed him, letting him do whatever he wanted with you. 

Were you ready to do this again? 

Surprising as it may sound, you haven’t had sex in a very long time. You liked to have fun with yourself and explore yourself. But it was hard for you to feel something towards someone and desire them this way. Because the only one who used to turn you on was charles. And there he was again in your head. He was always there hunting you. Franco pushed you softly into his bed climbing up on you. And that’s when you woke up from this trance you couldn’t quite comprehend. He was about to undress you when you pushed him again as softly as you could because you were now exasperated about the situation you put yourself under. Franco looked at you scared. He felt he has really fucked it up. 

“y/n i’m sorry, please. Perdon, I didn't mean to.. I’m sorry” he said, getting up and pulling his shirt on again as fast as he could. You tried to adjust yourself heading out the bedroom. You couldn’t face him now. You felt terrible about yourself. You didn’t know how to handle this situation. You were too drunk. But you also knew you wouldn’t know how to deal with this sober either. “y/n wait, please. Let’s talk” he could grab your hand to stop you from leaving the bedroom making you face him. You felt so embarrassed. You felt like a monster. You looked at his face. He was such a good guy and yet here you are about to break his heart. Why didn’t you stop? Why did you let him do this? You knew it was not only your responsibility, it was his as well but still. 

“I'm sorry fran, this shouldn’t have happened. I'm really sorry” when you said those words you could see how his face changed into a one that even broke your heart. He dropped your hand. He knew. He fucking knew you didn’t like him. Then why would you do this? And on his birthday?

You sprinted out of that room immediately. We can say you almost ran away from him. But the reality was that you wanted to run away from yourself and your stupid ass decisions who fucked everything up each single time. The hallway down to where the party was being held never felt so infinite. You knew your anxiety was becoming a bit too much for you at that moment. Catastrophic scenarios were playing on and on in your mind as you took each step down the stairs. The pressure in your chest increases when you see the people at the party. You felt like they were looking at you, judging. Laughing in your face. Howpathetic could you be? Not getting over your only ex fro more than 10 years, then almost fuck your friend thhat you wasn’t sure if you liked him like that for real or not,  then wanting to be over everything and then fucking everything up. You didn't know how to handle these situations. You felt like a teenager again. Too many mistakes. Too confusing. That made you feel ashamed of yourself. You were a 32 years old woman, acting like 17 years old, fucking up friendships while you couldn’t stop thinking of your ex. And that’s when you wanted to throw up. 

You didn’t want to find your friends. You didn’t want to tell them how you fuck it up with the one guy (once again) that is good for you. How you wasted his time and feelings. You felt like a monster. Like you played with him on purpose even if you actually didn’t want to. You were way too harsh on yourself sometimes. You needed to get out of there just like you got away when you first saw Charles again in that restaurant (or well, now it’s a coffee shop). 

It was running away from your fears, you couldn’t confront them. It was running away from you. You hated yourself. You couldn’t think straight and clear about yourself most of the time. The only moment you trusted yourself was when writing. And you also doubted yourself very much on it. You couldn’t win. Your self-confidence didn’t exist. You were sure about it. People were dancing while you were pushing them a bit to walk through the party out to the garden. You need fresh air in your brain as soon as possible. Or you were about to become insane if you didn’t. People said things to you but you didn’t hear. Your eyes locked on the floor. Your stomach was in your throat. The image of Charles stuck in your brain. 

I met someone. I met someone. I met someone. I met someone. I met someone. 

His lips moved, pronouncing those damn three words to your face. As if they were nothing. As if you were nothing at all for him. And maybe you were. You couldn’t imagine Franco saying those things to you, for example. Or maybe men were equal? Maybe you needed to experiment with girls. Maybe they are less complicated and more open. But maybe you were the problem. Too many thoughts per second. You jumped out of every single boat you ended up in. You didn’t know anymore. In your brain, things are too complicated and you know all too well you will need years to repair the damage made to it. From your dad and mum, to Charles and every single other guy you mate. To Franco and to this balcony where you would find someone maybe ready to love you like you matter, like you deserve to feel loved, like you’re amazing and beautiful. Then you were sure you were completely insane. There was no way you were always thinking about someone saving you from yourself. But there you were hoping to meet the love of your life in that gallery outside the party in Franco's house. Maybe writing and your imagination was rotting your brain. You thought about retiring and working in a library as a normal person would do. You didn’t know why you were thinking all of these things suddenly. 

Maybe you were tired and frustrated. You just gave up when you finally got to the garden. The cold air of London fills your lungs, helping you with your anxiety. Your body heat dropped. Your sweaty hands got dry and cold. Your nose is red. Your eyes closed. You were doing your breathing meditation. Your heart palpitations didn’t stop though. And they were fast. Faster than Charles getting over you and everything you built. Faster than you ruining the friendship with franco. Faster than you waiting for someone to save you. Your life sucked. You really didn’t want to think about it like that. But you did. Most times you just couldn't see positive things in it. You felt like a failure. A loser. You didn’t have a lover nor a family. A loser that’s what you were. A complete failure. You had almost no family as well. No father, no mother. Just a brother and a sister who lived on the other side of the world and barely talked to you. Your only family was agostina, your best friend. And she was everything you were not. She has the perfect lover with whom she built a beautiful family of five. Her kids were lovely. She was gorgeous and the greatest person you knew. She was exactly everything you were not. But you didn't hate her. Of course you didn't. You would never think of her like that. It made you as sad as happy for her. Sad for you. Happy for her. 

Why can’t you live something like that? 

“Hey, you okay?” you jumped a little scared because of the sudden interruption to your thoughts and sadness. You turned to your side to find that guy. I think it was Lando's name or something like that Nikola said a few hours ago. When he brought you back to reality you realized you were crying hard. Your face bathed in tears. Cold and puffy. His face was concerned. His eyes are shiny, so blue and green. You found his face so pretty to look at. Alcohol was still in your veins, otherwise you wouldn’t be here crying so dramatically. You would try to hide it. Always. 

⋆˚࿔ let it happen 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Your eyes were on his eyes. Yours were red and puffy. His red is tired and shiny. You stayed in silence for a moment. You answered his question when he saw your face. Something in him cracked for some reason. Oh, he did know you very well. He saw you on that balcony and now that he has you right in front of him, he couldn’t believe you being more beautiful than on that day, but you actually are. He promised Charles he wouldn’t even try but he talked to Carlos about it. Carlos wanted Charles to move on but he was making a move on you and was crossing the line. 

He looked down to his water bottle on his right hand. “Do you want some? Maybe you feel better” he said with a deep voice. He was nervous as hell. Alcohol in his veins as like in yours. He saw your smile. Your face was so pretty. You looked so cute with the boca juniors shirton. He had one as well. He didn’t think they were his colors, blue and yellow, not his thing. But you looked so pretty in them. All of the girls at the party were dressed looking hot as hell. But you and your friends looked cute. Relaxed outfits for the win. And that made you look all so attractive or at least for him. He recognized you a few hours ago. He was kinda shocked to see you there because he has never seen you near franco like ever. You didn’t go to the races nor comment on Franco's posts. Or anything at all. Then here you are. He saw kissing him. He saw you two going up the stairs. Alcohol didn’t let him analizy things properly even if he tried his best in doing so. 

Your fingers that grabbed the bottle from his hand, brushed his sending electricity throughout his arm. He smiled gently at you watching you drink from it. 

“Thank you, and sorry you had to see me cry” you told him, giving his bottle back and he smiled so pretty, shaking his head. You found him so attractive. You were just trying not to be so obvious. Also, you were worried to look like a slut if he saw you kissing Franco before. But why did you care so much? Why were you thinking all of these things about him? 

“Oh no, don’t be sorry. You still look cute tho” he said giggling a bit making you laugh a bit as well. You shook your head not agreeing with him. 

“Thank you again, but no need to lie about that tho” you told him a little funny. 

“I promise I'm not lying. You're pretty even crying” he confessed, making you blush. “You okay? Need to talk or something?” he asked to checkon you even if you were strangers. “Im lando by the way” he introduced himself so this wasn’t that weird. 

“I’m y/n. Nice to meet you. I think I'm better now, I just made a lot of stupid decisions throughout my life that now alcohol just reminds me how much of a loser I am” you were honest. More honest than you would be with anyone. You just blamed the alcohol. 

“Hey, I don't think you’re a loser y/n. I mean, I know we don’t know each other at all. But for me, you don’t look like a loser at all” he expressed. You looked out to the garden in front of you a bit ashamed. 

“Appearances can lie, you know? I’m a loser, I promise you. I’m still stuuckin a fucking restaurante knowing all too well i should’ve move on years ago. But here I am. Fucking up friendships and any opportunity i have to get better and be happy. I just hate myself so much. I won’t ever be happy” you gave up. You no longer cared about what people would think. You didn’t care if he thought you were crazy for telling him so much private stuff. You barely know his name. But there you were comfortable enough to confess your depression to him. He analyzed you. Every detail of your face. Each word you used to describe yourself. 

“I don’t think that makes you a loser still. I think you’re brave enough to tell a stranger how you feel and in my opinion, that takes strength and confidence. And i think you will be happy, you just need to let yourself be” his words hung on the air between you two. Why was a stranger talking to her? Why was he saying things she needed to here? Why his words were important? You were sure he  knew how much of a mess you were. It shows. You were sure. But still he was here. Right when you want someone here waiting for you ready to save you.  Is this who will save you? Are you out of your mind for thinking like this about him? 

Delusion was thinking he will be just like charles wright? You had no idea who this guy was but still you compared him to charles. Because you didn’t want to date Charles again or anyone like him. Or did you? You didn’t know how you felt about all of this. About charles. About yourself. About this guy you don't even know and you want him already to save you just because he called you brave and strong and pretty. Was that really enough for you? Was that the standard you had for yourself? He could be a serial killer right? But you could save him. He could love you. And you would forget about charles. About his touch. About his voice and laugh. About his jokes and moans. About his perfume. About his family and friends. About his cars. About everything related to him. 

But was it fair to love someone to stop loving someone else? 

Did you still love Charles? 

You looked at him again. Your eyes connected. He smiled shyly. You did as well. Maybe you could let this guy ruin you just like Charles did, just because of his face, and his voice and what he said to you without even knowing you. You should get your shit together. You still reeling that fucking monaguesque guy. But at this point you didn’t care anymore. Or at least that’s what you thought. He got closer and kissed your cheek, that took you by surprise but you liked it. Probably way too much.

“I know without knowing you that you’re amazing. You just need to believe it. I’m sure you’ll find someone who sees you” he added and your smile became wider. 

“Thank you, lando.wow. Any stranger said so many nice things about me” you half joked shyly and his cheeks went red. His giggles were the cutest sound you have heard lately. Where was this guy? 

Then you remembered Franco and that this guy probably is his friend. And your back at your self hate again.

Why did everything have to be so difficult?

Why do you have to make so many mistakes at once? 

“y/n, we need your help” Dottie's voice interrupted you two. Her voice seemed worried. “Betty is way too drunk, it’s better if we go home now” she explained, a little suspicious of your both body languages. You nodded. 

“Alright, let’s go. Nice to meet you Lando, hope to talk to you another time though so it’s not that depressing. I promise im fun” you said a bit funny but hurried. Your friend first, always. You kissed his cheek quickly. He laughed about your comment. 

“Oh yea, she is,” Dottie added, supporting you in a smile.

“Hope to see you again sometime, Y/n. good luck with your friend” he said to both of you and after smiling at him you went into the party again.

“D, I think I'm in love,” you said excitedly.

“What?”

⋆˚࿔ it’s time to go 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ the fucking tuesday 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Arriving in monaco again at 11 am has never felt so good in your entire life. A trip that started like a dream to remember, turned into a nightmare you couldn’t forget but all you wanted to was to forget about it. Just pretend it never existed and erase everything you did wrong that Saturday night.

You missed your house (your safe place),and you needed its comfort more than you would like to admit. Your brain was a mess. You couldn’t stop thinking about charles driving you to your friend’s house then the memory just fading away and inturning into him saying non stop i met someone. You felt you were going insane when you remembered Franco's skin on yours and how good and warm it felt. How you kissed his abs. And then how you got so scared. His face was printed in ink in your subconscious. You could only see sadness, shame, and a bit of hatred. You were sure at that moment he hated you. Like you humiliate him a bit. You felt so bad about it you couldn’t even face him. You really wanted to say sorry but you just didn’t want to see him straight in the eyes. Shame was tattooed all over your body. How could you?

Then your mind was reminded of Lando's existence and you just wanted to punch yourself in the face. What the hell happened with you at that party? Was the fernet that Franco prepared? You wanted to blame anything except yourself. You didn’t understand yourself either. Like your feelings and thoughts couldn’t agree on anything. Like you had split personality issues.

Yes, you liked lando way too much probably in those few minutes at the gallery. But then there was Franco that you now were confused about how you felt about him. Because you really liked to kiss him. To touch him. To feel him close to you in that way.

And then there was still charles.

You were really tired of thinking already you just had to put taylor swift on your headphones.you took the bus that left you one block away from your house. You don't want to call anyone to pick you up. You texted A and she told you that. You didn’t understand why she did it. But it overwhelmed you for sure. You just wanted to retreat from life like forever.

When you finally got home you went straight into bed. When you touched your pillow you started crying. And that’s how you fell asleep scared to have another nightmare.

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Charles watched Carlos leaving his phone on the counter with a weird face “everything alright mate?” he asked. Carlos nodded and smiled.

“Yeah, did you send the invitation to everyone you know?” he asked, grabbing the box with vodka bottles and taking them to the fridge.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be a crazy wild night” Charles said excitedly trying to not let his anxiety control his mood right now. He wanted to have fun and purposely forget about everything with alcohol. A lot of it. As much as possible.

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The music was so loud that Charles could barely listen to what the blonde girl in front of him was talking about but he didn’t care that much. He was already bored by the third girl Carlos introduced him to. He knows Carlos just has good intentions but he was already convinced no one will captivate him the way you did. Not even if they tried to imitate you. Since he saw you again he couldn’t forget your scent. The way you smiled to your nephews. How you treated them and how he was confused for a moment if they were your children. He always knew you wanted to be a mother and for what he saw he was sure you would be the best one out there. He wanted to forget about you he really did. But he was also sure life hated him. He wanted to rebuild his life and leave behind the damage he caused, but then there was you again in that fucking restaurant. And in that moment he knew all too well it would drive him insane. And he felt like it. He believed it.

The girl notices he wasn’t paying attention to her. Charles was playing with his glass of whiskey. Her face looked annoyed and disappointed. Charles didn’t care. She told him she needed to go to the bathroom and disappeared for the rest of the night. He drank his whole glass in one take. He just wanted to drown in alcohol right there and vaish from life. From everyone who knew him.

He saw Carlos dancing la macarena with his group of spanish friends that came for the holidays. He was enjoying himself around. Rebecca, his girlfriend, was there as well, matching hia freak. And for a moment he felt something he never felt before and he didn't like it at all. He felt envious. He wanted to have his life. Be him. Have the girl of his dreams dancing around with him. His friends were here but not with him. And he didn’t even like to dance. And don't have anyone to have sex with. Then he felt miserable. Angry with life itself.he was disappointed. He felt he let down everyone in his life. And the proof was that damn book she wrote. He was a coward. And everyone knew about it; they just didn't know it was him all along. And when the truth comes out then his life will be ended.

He swallowed hard and stood up to grab more whiskey. This time he was drinking from the bottle. He pushed himself aside from the party and sat near the pool even if he was freezing. He didn’t care anymore if he got sick or died. He was extreme. He looked at your balcony and wanted to cry. He wanted to cry like a child. Throw punches and scream. He felt there was no way to fix his life. He regretted breaking you so much. He always knew this was everything to you. You were so caring and always there for him and his whole family. He also knew he broke his mum. She loves you deeply. You were like her daughter, the one she never had. The one he and dad would have loved to have if they could choose the sex of their children. Remembering his dad broke him. He started crying. If he was here he knew he would be disappointed in him. Not because of his career (he made history) but because he isn’t with a good woman. He doesn't have kids either. And he now believed he didn't even have a future.

He looked again at your balcony. The lights were off. He didn’t know if you were there or not. If you had a lover. Or even if you have him blocked on social media. And that’s when curiosity won over him. What if he tried to search for your name on instagram? He was sure someone he knew, knew you as well. Monaco is too little to not have those coincidences on the daily.

He searched the first letters of your name and then saw that his ex, alexandra followed you. He felt weird about it and his face showed confusion with his eyebrows. He clicked on your profile and started stalking you. You still paint and have a piano. You used to play piano together. Actually, you taught him. You were the best professor he had ever had. He smiled looking at pictures of random dogs you found on the streets and with your nephews. You built a new family away from your actual family. That made him happy for a second. He knew after both of your parents died, you didn’t get along so well with your siblings. But he didn’t know if it was still like that. He saw how successful you were. How your book was a bestseller and how it would be a movie produced by universal. He was surprised. He would have never expected this outcome. Back in the day you were an art teacher for children and had a studio where you gave those lessons. Children loved you so much. He remembered their bright smiles when the parents came around to pick them up. He admired you so much for it. He even fantasizes that one day that face so bright and happy will be the one your children will have everytime they look at their mother. He wanted to be a father with you. But then alex came around and fucked it all up. Or well he actually did. And he still couldn’t understand why he did it.

Alex Was beautiful, he couldn’t deny that. She also loved him dearly. She was in love with him. And he thought he was with her. But then everything spiraled down and collapsed. He met her at that partymax verstappen threw to celebrate he was an official f1 driver for red bull. He invited everyone he ever met along his life. You couldn’t go because you had to take an exam the following morning. And that’s when it happened. She was dancing with her group of friends. She also had a boyfriend. And we talked and sparks were there. And then Charles got all confused. And they kissed. And he had already cheated by the time he realized that it was wrong. And then he couldn't stop. And his life went to shit.

He didn’t realize he was sobbing until he felt his teardrops stain his creme pants. He was using a fancy outfit. He looked really good. But as everything he touched, he also ruined that too in that moment. And because he was so busy feeling miserable, he didn’t realize the police were already at carlos’ door wanting to shut down the party. I mean, it was a tuesday night of a working week after all.

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

When Charles got closer to Carlos, he was already shouting at the police officers like a crazy man. He was drunk for sure and the policeman knew about it too. No perfume will ever smell like that. Not in Monaco of course.

“Then tell me, who will call? I need to know who to call. I never do parties and then once I do I can't and it’s not fair. I need to know who called you, it's my right as a citizen "Carlos was verbose and angry.

“Carlos it’s okay, how much should we pay you to let us have a party?” Charles intervenes trying to look not drunk at all but failing in each word. Police men looked at each other, annoyed by these two men.

“That would be a crime, sir” the police officer with a beard that looked disgusting in charles’ opinion, answered him. He kind of felt offended.

“Then who it was!!” Carlos was losing it and Charles was scared they would take him to jail right there.

“Your neighbor” the other one talked now pointing his fingers to his right. His right.

Your house was at his right. You called the cops. At that moment he felt he was about to faint. He was sure he was white. The policemen looked at him weird. Carlos then started walking. If you were in a cartoon show he would have smoke coming out his head right now. He walked fast towards your hose. Charles panicked and followed him desperate. Carlos started banging your door so he could tell you things.

“Carlos, nono. Let’s just go home, c’mon "Charles tried to convince Carlos but he was determined and ignored him. He won’t let you ruin his party. His celebration. His opportunity to present a woman for his friend to be happy. The one he taught you ruined. Becausehe couldn’t be over you. And he saw all of this as if you were now not letting him be able to in a very twisted way.

Charles was scared and worried when he saw your light turning on by the minute. His eyes wanting to leave his face when he saw you in your marvel pajamas again. Your hair was a mess and your face had the darkest circles under your eyes. Your face puffy as if you were crying or you did before you went to sleep and then they woke you up. No he felt as guilty as when he realized he left the love of his life stuck in that fucking restaurant you both loved so much.

“What the fuck is wrong with you bitch? Huh? Stop torturing my friend!” carlos said aggressively the moment he saw you when you opened the door.

⋆˚࿔ TO BE CONTINUED 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

chapter six: coming soon.

tag list: @a-beaverhausen , @annaluna12 , @thehoplessromanticclub , @emryb , @hadids-world , @kaztheemyth , @freyathehuntress , @diorbrxtz , @theseerbetweenus , @sie17136 , @leila-030304 , @charlesgirl16 , @ricciardosheart , @weekendlusting

author’s note: hope you all have a merry christmas ❤️ and that you like this chapter as much as I do !

thank you everyone for reading and sharing what I write. I really really appreciate it!

if you wanna be part of the tag list just leave a comment!

see you on the next chapter :)

Don’t forget to like, reblog or comment! And follow me so we can be friends! (And drink mate together) <3

[manjiroscum]

MARRY? KILL? FUCK!

CHARACTER/S: Bonten

WARNINGS: f!reader, explicit sex, mature language, threesome, a bit of slut shaming, bonten just being bonten, doggystyle, full nelson, protected sex (use of pills), creampie, just a lot of filth :p, sanzu's a bit of an asshole, strip game, and use of pet names. Minors do not interact.

NOTE: hi! here is the third fic for the collection :) took a lot of time bc uni and life got too hectic huhu anyway, i hope you enjoy it! (⁠ノ⁠^⁠_⁠^⁠)♪

MASTERLIST

SYNOPSIS: Another slow day at work meant more shenanigans to occur. Haruchiyo Sanzu was adamant to cause trouble and to have you bent over the desk for everyone to see.

WC: 1k

The chances of being shot in the head by Bonten’s notorious pink-haired assailant had a much lower probability of happening than the wine bottle never landing on you. The whole ordeal wouldn't have been daunting if it were a normal truth-or-dare game. But of course, the rest of Bonten’s higher-ups were bored out of their minds and suggested a little twist in the game. It was either you picked truth or dare and did them… Or avoid it and strip. Lips in a grim line, you ignored the drunken hollers by the Haitani brothers as you unbuttoned your blouse. There was no way in hell you would admit that you slept with Takeomi in Mikey’s office due to a bet you made with Rindou.

No way in hell.

Curse these bastards for inviting you, their ever-lovely secretary, to this stupid game when you could've gone home early since Mikey wasn't around. When the big cat wasn't around to intimidate, every rotten mouse was up to play. And play, they did. Sanzu was even more adamant about making you answer the most difficult questions because it was fun to torment you especially now that you were only clad in your stockings, pencil skirt, underwear, and bra.

“Seriously, this game must be rigged!” You sat back down, brows furrowed and unaware of the lingering gazes on your supple breasts covered by a lace bra. “Most of you guys haven't even stripped much. Why am I getting the craziest dares and questions, huh?”

This was definitely to teach you a lesson not to get ahead with yourself thinking you can best these men in a game. As much as you knew their dirty secrets within the organization, they too, knew yours. What made them annoyingly frustrating to deal with was how they utilized it to bring you to your knees.

“Alright then,” Rindou rubbed his hands as if he has foreseen the future when the bottle pointed at you and him. Fighting back the urge to slap yourself for joining this stupid game, you listened as he gave you the options. “Truth or dare, princess. What do you choose?”

To use your answers against you was what Sanzu Haruchiyo and Haitani Rindou were begrudgingly good at. This tactic had you stripping your pencil skirt when you refused to answer the question Rindou gave you and the dare option was as equally brazen. Perhaps after a few more rounds, you were sure you would exit the building all nude. However, just as you were about to spill your woes, the pink-haired man got up and instantly pulled you from your seat without breaking a sweat. The next thing you know, you were bent over Mikey’s desk. Eyes wide, you blinked twice.

“W-what the—”

“Why won’t you answer the simple question, sweetheart? We’re not gonna kill ‘ya if your pussy decides it likes me better than Ran.”

“Sanzu, you dick, I heard that!”

The scars on either side of his lips stretched as he grinned down at your vulnerable form, his hard-on pressed against your ass that was too difficult to ignore. Wishing for it to go away would be stupid to do as well.

“I mean, aren’t you curious boys? A simple question as to who she wants to kill, marry or fuck isn’t something that’ll cause us to slit each other's throats. A slut like her should be shared by us.” Pulling back, Sanzu stepped aside for everyone to see your ass still clad in your panties. But not for long as he hooked his finger and pulled down the lacy thong, tongue tucked between his lips as he did so.

Such an obedient thing you were, spouting for him to stop yet doing nothing to make him halt in his actions. A few of the men swallowed hard at the sight of your bare ass and damp pussy lips, aching to fill your holes.

“Gonna ask you one last time, sweetheart. Be a dear and answer Rin’s question. He thought long and hard about it, you see.” Ignoring the huff the younger Haitani made, Sanzu smirked. “Fuck, marry, kill? Unless of course, you’re such a big slut that you want to fuck us all?”

The safest answer you took was what led you to be on all fours, Ran’s cock in your mouth and Sanzu thrusting his from behind. Rindou’s thick fingers were busy toying with your nipples as Kakucho rubbed himself to the sinful scene in front of him. Milky semen coated your back, belonging to the brothers and Kakucho after being coaxed by Sanzu to see who has the thickest load that will definitely knock you up. You ignored their silly banter, trusting the pill you religiously took. The air conditioner in Mikey’s office was either broken or was blowing cold air quite poorly due to how hot your flesh felt against their cool skin. The sound of flesh smacking against flesh echoed around, driving you all insane. Your eyes rolled back at Sanzu’s long cock hitting that favorite spot of yours.

They continued to switch positions, adamant for everyone to have at least a turn inside your cum-filled pussy. You felt your lower stomach bloat up at how much semen was inside. The game and wine bottle were forgotten, replaced with a much more engaging game where nobody loses. This was what you’ve always wanted, a secret you’ve kept to yourself. And now that it was happening, perhaps the teasing at the strip game earlier was worth going through.

“Too bad Takeomi and Mikey are missing out on this cunt.”

“Nah, the old man would probably complain about his back and Mikey’s not interested whenever we’re around.”

“Hey, Kaku, she’s blacking out. Wake her up.”

Kakucho hoisting you up and doing the standing full nelson position wasn’t something you anticipated. Everyone was amazed at how much of their cum spilled out when he thrust his thick cock inside your weeping pussy, your teeth gritted at the tight fit. He has always been the biggest of them, rendering you a bit dizzy as he pistoned his hips. Not minding your fucked up state, Sanzu bent down to be on eye level with you, a grin on his pretty face.

“What do you say after we grant your wish, sweetheart?”

“T-thank, a-ah, hu��♡”

taglist: @imkumichan @pyrsqrd @ploylulla @wakaslut @ranilingus @tobidabio @zuuki @leavemealonebutinpink @kamisoria @wakasa-wifey @keijisprettygirl @marism-tr @stffychn @manjirousagi @tokyometronetwork

[calsvoid]

ten (sorta) thoughts on squid game season 2 (SPOILERS):

1. holy fuck this season was so beautiful and the creative genius behind it was so wonderful

2. the rock paper scissors minus one scene has got to be the most intense game scene out of every single one (not game, but game SCENE, as in watching these two friends who i didn’t even care about half a second before be forced to bet their lives against each other only for one of them to be placed with a guaranteed win and not take it was probably the craziest thing to ever happen and fuck having that be the first episode truly through me for a spin)

3. speaking of, the guy that lived (who is known as guy with the wife because me and my brother kept saying that he has a wife as a reason why we want him to live) is one of my favs for no reason, i hope he gets out alright DONT YOU DARE DO ANYTHING TO HIM CAP’N I TRUSTED YOU

4. i knew as soon as they started having two girls bond i was done for and i spent every moment of theirs begging for both of them to live because i think i’ve seen this film before and i didn’t like the ending

5. soooooo many characters and character dynamics were just absolute chef’s kiss and it helps so much with that buildup of hope and tension; last season obviously had some wonderful people and relationships (i’m still not and never will be over the marble game) but something about this new cast was just absolutely wonderful. there were almost no characters i didn’t like or wasn’t invested in, and i am very excited to see how they turn out next season. hyun-ju’s group, gi-hun’s group, hell even thanos’s group i enjoyed all of them. min-su’s betrayal fucked me up so bad though and him failing to save her and having to see her die FUCK. also young-mi’s death was so painful, especially since she was the first main group member death. the mom and son were hilarious im going to fight god if they don’t end up together in either life or death

6. all about women’s rights and women’s wrongs this season, number 11 i love you and i hope you find your child i will kill your almost rapists for you. i don’t care that i hate the military hyun-ju is hot with a gun and she can fuck me with one of she wants. i pray for that fetus please let them get out alive. the mom was fantastic and such a nostalgic character, very accurate portrayal of an auntie and i love her for that. shaman queen is batshit crazy and good for her

7. the set design yall fucking BEAUTIFUL. i can’t describe it, but it just adds so much to that deceitful hope with all the rainbows and clean lines. and also the use of the stairs during the gun fights, ugh so amazing what a great way to repurpose that set

8. ALSO THE ADDED KNOWLEDGE OF THE SOLDIERS SIDE, god i love the extra lore behind their recruitment, their system, all that. loved the twist and as i’ve said i love number 11 shes my queen

9. god seong gi-hun had me ROOTING for him. his sheer determination was felt by me too and i really hoped that he would finally get to get justice, that finale just hurt all that much more

10. i wanted so badly for inho to end up having a semi-redemption arc even though it was unlikely, i unfortunately fell for his manipulation and wanted to believe in him god it hurt watching him use the sounds of someone else’s death to trick gi-hun

[randomfoggytiger]

Stupendous interview.

The interviewer and David covered all spectrums of emotion while discussing his career, failures, and family.

Video from the podcast "The great creators"

[0vereasy]

Life’s Creation and Love’s Manifestation (Dr ratio x reader)- Chapter 4: Late Appraisal

Summary: Your promotion as one of the heads of the Security Department at Herta’s Station was full of many headaches, one of the biggest being a visiting scholar from the Intelligentsia Guild, and delegate of the IPC, Dr. Ratio.

When you were forced to team up with him to solve several crises emerging at the Station, how will your tense relationship change? And what exactly is the Doctor hiding?

Taglist: @96jnie @boomie-123 @a2tral @ukiyo-ikigai @poemzcheng @kpopmenace143 @tseleven @rains-mae @comet-kun @thatanimewriter @lowlucifer @snailsposts @earthtooz @delightfuldragoncollection @soobinsgirlfriend @lvfel

COMMENT OR SEND ASK TO BE TAGGED

Masterlist

A/N: You can probably tell I’m pretty tired by the writing + shorter chapter, but I wanted to get something out. The original draft was longer but I wasn’t happy with the later half, so I thought I would just for with a smaller chapter this time and keep working at the later half for a better finished produce. This mainly serves as a transitional chapter anyway, with more action expected in the next one.

You know that stereotype where fanfic authors literally go through the craziest shit when they’re writing? Well the last few weeks I won my first trial as a law student, got a few good resolution for other clients all at once, ans started getting closer with my crush. So… I’ve been pretty busy as you can see lol. I have a term break in a few weeks, which is likely when the next chapter will come out, and where I will try to pre-write another chapter or two. Thank you all for being patient with the delay!

Chapter 4: Late Appraisal (3.8k+ words)

“I just don’t understand how this even happened!” you watched the short white-haired man pace around Herta’s office, his forehead crinkled in concentration and mouth twisted into a worried frown. You felt your head pulse with each of his footsteps, thumping in beat with the heavy taps of his feet on the tile floor, the ache getting worse with each motion he made. Aeons, you wish they never found you napping in the Seclusion Zone. At least then you could’ve dealt with your hangover in peace and quiet, “How could multiple researchers and a Herta puppet all go missing in one afternoon? Especially with our upgraded security! It just makes no sense.”

“If you let me go look at the security system, I could tell you,” you deadpanned, eyes trailing over to the office door briefly, as if contemplating some way to escape, before flickering back to your boss, “I don’t even get why you called me here, aren’t we wasting time with this meeting when we could be trying to fix things?”

“Wasting time?” Arlan rebutted, stopping his pacing and crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes narrowed as he looked at you, giving you little hope of making your escape from the office, “You know what’s a waste of time? Trying to track you down just to find out you were passed out drunk in the Seclusion Zone! Do you know how much time we wasted just trying to find you?”

“It was literally my day off, Arlan,” you huffed in reply, mirroring his stance by crossing your own arms over your chest, “I don’t have to tell you where I am all the time. Not anymore at least.” You let the implication of the words hang in the air, something that didn’t go over well with your usually mellow boss, who seemed to be getting angrier by the minute. But hey, if he was gonna push your buttons, you weren’t just gonna sit there and take it. 

“We’re in an emergency, Y/N!” he practically shouted at you, “It doesn’t matter if it's your day off! What would’ve you done if it was your day off when the Legion attacked? Stayed in your room and brushed it off?” You felt your body stiffen at his words, arms moving from their crossed state to hang loosely at your sides. You hated this; when you argued, when he used his knowledge of you and what would set you off for his own advantage. It was almost downright cruel. 

“Don’t talk about the Legion attack,” your reply was quick, emotionless as if you were trying to avoid thinking of it yourself, “You know that’s different. A lot different.” At this point, you were willing to run out of the Herta’s Office, meeting be damned. The ache in your head paused for a moment replaced by a dull pain in your chest, mind swirling with thoughts you’d rather forget. You were almost afraid of how you appeared to your boss right now. 

You watched Arlan’s eyes for the shift in emotion, hoping, praying that he was able to see where you were coming from. You saw it for a moment, like a flicker of hope burning within his purple orbs, before he blinked, sending the sympathy away from wherever it came from, “Is it though? For all we know, all of those researchers are dead! Adler could be dead!” You clenched your fist at the mention of the boy, the pounding in your head seeming to grow again. 

“I get it!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms in the air in frustration, “Which is why I wanna look at the security system to see how this happened! But instead were here arguing about stupid shit that doesn’t matter right now!” You watched as he began to pace around Herta’s office again, Herta’s holographic image of herself staring at the both of you, along with the other genius society portraits, as if they all were looking down on this conversation too. You couldn’t blame them. 

“You know why were having this conversation,” Arlan was quieter now, but still stern, “We needed you, and you there was no way to contact you!” He let out a shaky sigh before talking again, “We even started to think you were taken too!” You took a deep breath, attempting to let the anger inside of you simmer down at the genuine tone of his voice. 

“I already know that,” you sighed, “ Screwllum told me it all when he came to wake me up,” you raised an eyebrow, “You should’ve asked him sooner, I mean,” you tugged on your button-down shirt, holding back a wince at how the sudden action made your head pound harder, “You already know our relationship. If anyone knew where I was, it would be him” You released the shirt, begrudgingly moving a hand to hold your head now, unable to pretend that you didn’t feel like shit any longer. Arlan looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read; disgust? Pity? You’d honestly rather not know. 

“How much did you drink yesterday?” Arlan asked you, pausing his pacing again to change the subject, his expression still holding anger, but voice quiet, as if he was preparing to hear bad news. You thought about putting up a fuss for a moment, but sighed, preparing yourself to relent on this point, as if the alcohol was holding you back from hiding the extent of your poor state. 

“A bottle of wine,” you said simply, crossing your arms across your chest again. You almost looked stupid, standing in the office in your sweatpants and Screwllum’s shirt, confessing your problems, while Arlan stared back at you in proper uniform, leaving the power imbalance between you two evident visually and audibly,  “And a bit of Vodka,” you left the part about the vodka being in your water bottle unspoken, not prepared to deal his rant on that topic that the two of you had gone through hundreds of times before, though the pitying look on his face told you that he already knew.

“You really have to stop this,” Arlan said, voice losing the anger now, holding nothing but pity. Honestly, you preferred him angry. When Arlan became sentimental and looked at you like you were a lost cause or some sort of fuck up, for some reason nothing in the world felt worse. You didn’t know what it was; the way his lips curved into a frown like no other he ever displayed, or how his big eyes became downturned, a flicker of pain etched onto them and the rest of his features, “You can’t keep doing this to yourself…”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” you stared into his pitying eyes, hand from your head moving back to your side as you forced both your features and stance into neutrality as if that would fight off the emotions that threatened to spill from you.

“You don’t have a choice,” he said firmly, though not unkindly, “You know what I think about your drinking… what Asta thinks,” he let that name hang in the air for a moment, sending a shiver down your spine that made you wince, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by your boss. Arlan sighed, the sternness from before fading away into his usual kind demeanour, “You know I can’t control what you do; you’re an adult. But when your drinking gets in the way of your job; when you pass out somewhere where we can’t find you when we need you, thats when it becomes an issue.”

“Arlan,” you spoke his name, whether in warning for him to stop, or in frustration at the change in track of conversation, you couldn’t say.

“You know the Station is vulnerable after the attack… you know it better than anyone,” he said softly, “So we need you to be at 100% all the time… I know I already extended your hours after the whole incident from a few days ago,” you gritted your teeth at the previous punishment you had received due to your actions on the night that the stupid alcaster face bastard arrived, “but I don’t think that’s enough for what we need from you right now.”

“What are you suggesting?” you huffed, tapping a finger against your thigh impatiently. It clearly wasn’t the first time you received punishment and definitely wouldn’t be the last. At least that was something familiar in your life, you mused - at least something in your life could follow a steady routine. 

“... You can’t drink any alcohol for the rest of the month,” he said firmly, quickly speaking again when he saw you open your mouth in protest, “Okay, maybe not the month… but at least until we get the researchers back and solve the confidence issues… I need you sober right now, Y/N.”

“You know its not that easy to just… stop,” you muttered, eyes moving to look at your feet. Even now, early in the morning, probably a bit over 12 hours from your last drink, you felt jittery, like you needed something to quell your nerves. Without the alcohol, and even with the pounding head, things were too… vivid, real. It was overwhelming to experience the sensations in the world how they were meant to be seen without the dull drag of a foggy blanket taking over your mind. How were you supposed to go a few days like this? 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, catching your glance as you looked back at him, “I don’t have a choice right now… let's talk more later, go, try to figure out why the security system went down last night.”

You opened your mouth, as if to respond, but allowed it to close again, turning your back to the man, “Whatever… talk to you later… Brother Arlan,” you left Herta’s office before he could respond to your use of his common teasing nickname around the station, not being in the mood to deal with another yelling match today. You unceremoniously slam the door behind you before you practically drag your body towards the elevator. Around you, you could hear the panicked gossip of various researchers, a sound that did nothing to calm the pounded headache that continued to make every movement a hassle. Part of you thought about talking to them - telling them that everything was under control. 

The other part of you recognized that you probably looked like a hot mess right now, and didn’t bother. They already didn’t trust you anyway - you weren’t stupid. If anything, approaching them would probably make things worse than it already was. So, you dragged your body down the stairs, onto the main floor of the master control zone and to the elevator, fully intent on not acknowledging anyone’s existence. 

It was only the sniffles of one specific person that made you do a double-take before you could press the button to call the elevator. Wen Shiling was a few feet behind you, trying to hide her sobs in her sleeve, but failing to do so, her small body physically shaking, evident even from your distance away from her. It was times like these when you wondered how children were even allowed to be researchers on this Station in the first place - it made you wonder how they could handle the stress that even you struggled to deal with. You paused, mind flickering between Wen Shiling and the elevator, sighing when you ultimately decided on the former, trudging your quiet body towards hers.

“Wen Shiling?” you spoke softly, bending down to be closer to her height, the action paining your head. Honestly, with your hangover and usual tone of conversation, you really had no idea how to approach comforting her… or anyone really, “What’s wrong sweetie, are you okay?” you hesitated before reaching a hand out, touching her gently on the shoulder. Her eyes seemed to water as she took in your form, a long sob escaping her lips. She looked from your hand to you, as if contemplated whether she wanted to move away, though she kept herself firmly planted in place. 

“No, I’m mad!” she cried, wiping her teary eyes on her sleeve. She offered you know no other words, too focused on stifling her sobs, which were still obnoxiously loud. You resisted the urge to cover your ears to block out the noise despite her cries doing nothing to soothe your headache. You gently rubbed your hand up and down her back, hoping that it offered some form of comfort to the girl. 

Though she wasn’t clear about the source of her anger, it was clear enough to guess, “You don’t have to worry about Adler, we’ll definitely bring him back soon.” Of course you left out the part where you had no idea where the little boy was or if he was even alive… but you really didn’t want to get into discussing the philosophy of life and death with a eight year old. Your mind flickered to Adler’s stupid book you had borrowed, the one you hadn’t cracked open since the night your… enjoyable evening with Screwllum was interrupted by the damned doctor you had been forced to accommodate. What if you never saw him again… what if he never got to talk to you about the book? You internally shook your head, focusing again on Wen Shiling in front of you. Aeons, if only you could have a drink to take the edge off…

“I don’t want him back… he’s stupid!” she sobbed again. You tried not to cringe at the snot covering the sleeves of her dress, forcing yourself to focus on her words, “He doesn’t talk to me and then disappears…! I don’t even want him here!”

“I’m sure he was just busy,” you attempt to soothe the girl, cursing the Aeons for failing to give you skills in soothing children. Deciding your ability to comfort children was lacking, you decided to only logically thing you could do was change your tone to match your usual personality, “You know, once we get him back I’m sure he’ll be sorry for how he treated you. That’ll serve him right, huh?.”

“He’ll be sorry?” she echoed your words, blinking dumbly up at you. You nodded in encouragement, hoping that you finally found some method to calm her crying. You forced yourself to plaster the a smile on your face, as if everything was fine and you weren’t currently feeling like death from a hangover and dealing with the aftermath of another invasion and your alcohol problem all at the same time. 

“Of course! Im sure we can even make him take an afternoon off his stupid ecology research,” you said with smirk, happy to at least let your genuine thoughts shine through for a moment before the inevitable hours of seriousness ahead, “I heard he’s horrible at board games, we could force him to play one beat him to a pulp.”

Wen Shiling smiled a bit, though her frown returned soon after, “Big sis… Can I ask you something? But you have to tell me the truth.”

Feeling like you were getting the farthest using your typical personality, you let your genuine thoughts ring through in your answer “Sure, I’m not a liar,” you shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest, “what’s up?”

“…” she hesitated for a moment before speaking, “Do you really think Adler is okay? … You think we’ll find him?” You stared at her for a moment, taking in her big brown tearful eyes and the snotty sleeves on her dress, an expression mixed with hopefulness and worry plastered all over her features. You forced a confident smirk on your face, placing your hands on your hips in mock confidence.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” 

It wasn’t your first time lying to a kid, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last either. 

~~~~

Your head continued to pound as the elevator descended, countless sounds filling your head. Arlan’s yelling… Wen Shiling’s crying… it all fluttered around your brain like snow, casting an endless stream of emotions on your already overwhelmed brain. Your mind drifted to your water bottle which you knew sat on your desk in your room… would Arlan even know if you took a sip from it… He couldn’t right? How would he? There was no way he could actually expect to accurately record your sobriety, you thought to yourself. No, you just had to be sneaky with it - a few sips here and there to quell your thoughts… thats all you would need… just something to take the edge off. Even the thought of the alcohol seemed to quiet your brain, like a blanket may drive off heat on a cold night. If you were in your right mind, maybe you would realize how worrisome your thoughts truly were… but right now you really didn’t care.

“When an elevator arrives at its destination, you are expected to dismount it,” you blinked back into focus at the familiar irritating voice, eyes falling on to the Doctor. Dressed in his usual clothes, though lacking his alabaster head, he stared at you with a raised eyebrow, as if you were some sort of unusual specimen in his lab. In all honesty, you couldn’t blame him. You hadn’t even realized your elevator had arrived at the floor with everyone’s personal quarters, too caught up in your thoughts to notice, which left you standing blankly forward despite the door already having opened. 

“And when someone doesn’t get out, you’re expected to politely address them, not be a snarky asshole,” you shot back, forcing yourself to leave the elevator. Not ready to end the conversation, but not wanting the elevator to go away, the Doctor stepped inside, pressing the door open button.

“Your insults lack creativity when you are hung over,” he deadpanned, sighing - whether in disappointment or disgust, you didn’t know, “I suppose it doesn’t matter. I was looking for you, you need to come with me.”

You rose an eyebrow at the Doctor, “Uh, kinda in the middle of trying to solve a crisis right now,” you deadpanned, “I’m sure you’ve heard about it… ya know, missing researchers, faulty security system. Don’t really have time for whatever bullshit you’re up to right now.”

“You wound me,” he states, though his face shows no sign of any emotion, “Since when do I act without purpose?” He looked at you with disgust, as if he was shocked at the suggestion, “Of course I am aware of the current predicament and I wish to help you.” 

You cock an eyebrow at him, arms crossed in front of your chest, “And why would you do that exactly? What’s in it for you?” skepticism dripped from your tone, a fact that you knew was all too apparent for the Doctor, who met your gaze defiantly, “Literally all you’ve done since getting here is be a pain in the ass and then almost get me killed - your actions don’t really scream helpful.”

“I seem to recall I was helpful enough in procuring wine for you and allowing you to sleep in my presence,” he smirked cockily, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead, “Or do actions such as those not qualify as helpful in your dictionary?”

“The only thing that helped with is getting me chewed out by my boss, so thanks for that I guess, what a help you are,” you rolled your eyes, tempted to walk away, but for some reason forcing yourself to stay put, “I don’t know what the hell was in that wine you gave me, but I swear I’m not usually that… clingy.” You thought you should say more, but chose to stay silent deciding you already made enough of a fool of yourself, “Honestly I don’t even remember most of the shit I did last night.”

“Alcohol interferes with one’s ability to form long term memories, such a fact is really not suprising,” he said matter-of-factly, a cocky smirk coating his features. You barley knew this man, but he seemed to always revel in the ability of making people feel dumb, “Luckily for you, I retained my own memory of the evening, if you wish to recall more.”

“I’d rather not learn more things Arlan can yell at me about, thanks,” you huffed, forcing the conversation back to its original topic, “So really, why do you wanna help me? What’s in it for you?”

“Many things really,” he said casually, finger still firmly pressing the open button on the elevator door, “The satisfaction of helping idiots some a simple problem, the joy of reuniting the researchers with their companions… or the pleasure of building a diplomatic relationship between the IPC and the Space Station as I was directed.”

“Should’ve known of course it was about the diplomacy,” you smirked at him, propping an arm next to the elevator door, “You clearly wouldn’t act kindly on your own accord. Got your own boss who you’re afraid will chew you out like mine?”

The Doctor’s face soured at the mention of a boss, “I’d rather not think of my acquaintances at the IPC, they are not the most fond people to be around.” The scowl on his face made you interested in learning more, but the Doctor was quick to change the subject, “I merely offered my assistance to Miss Asta and she accepted. The mere certitude that doing so will satisfy my companions is simply a bonus.”

“Whatever, I don’t care if Asta got you to help, I have my own work to do,” you brushed him off, turning to move away from the elevator. You were startled when a firm hand grasped your arm, preventing you from leaving. The Doctor’s skin was warm, radiating heat through Screwllum’s dress shirt. His touch mass you freeze in your tracks, glancing over your shoulder at the Doctor. 

“I’m not asking you,” he said plainly, as if disgusted that you hadn’t picked up on that sooner, “You prescene has been requested.” You felt mesmerized for a moment by his presence, the scent of his cologne filling your nose due to your close proximity. His golden eyes seemed to bore into you, as if staring into your soul. It was the first time you really took in how… handsome he looked. Of course you had noticed before… you had eyes of course, but something about how he looked at you now seemed to awaken something within you, something you were desperate to push away, while at the same time wanting to cling on to it. 

Snapping into your senses, you yank your hand from his, crossing it over your chest once more, “Requasted by who?”

“Hmmm what was the word you used for it again?” The Doctor’s hand, now free from holding your wrist, went to his chin in contemplation, “Ah yes, that’s it. A situationship. Screwllum requested your prescene.” With his other hand, he let go of open door button, allowing the door to close behind him, “We’ll see you in the Seclusion Zone.”

[f1bordeaux]

The String That Binds Us. (Prologue) | ln4, cl16

You fell in love with this sport all because of him. It would be selfish not to thank that boy for his help in getting you here today, even if you both ended on rocky terms. However, after finding yourself in the same paddock as your childhood best friend, your mentor, your first true love, and the boy who left you for the bigger picture, you realize that he wants nothing to do with you. So, as fate has it, perhaps you'll end up in the arms of someone else. Or maybe, just maybe, that string that has been tied to the two of you together since birth will pull you back into eachothers lives. Warnings: none Pairings: Lando Norris x Reader, Charles Leclerc x Reader Word Count: 769 Poetry style | Story style A/n: I have returned with yet another series >:) this has been rolling around in my mind and yes its a super simple, done before, run down prompt but I promise to make it worth wild! I feel as though my writing has improved since my last series(which i'm gonna go rewrite) so please enjoy! Ill update as quickly as possible. This is just the prologue so look out for chapter 1 soon, and let me know if you all would be interested in me posting this on Wattpad for easier reading! Much love! Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

prologue; y/n.

There was simply no way, not in this world with all of its coincidences and twists of fate, that things did not happen for a reason. From the minute you’re born until the day you die, there is a reason for everything. An invisible string runs through each and every one of your actions, no matter how little or grand they may be. You were sure of it. There were so many instances you could think of. When you failed that math test and got put back into a different class-the one where you met your first boyfriend who you no longer speak of. When you visited the beach one Summer all the way across the ocean in the United States, and met a girl from your hometown who ended up becoming your life long friend you attended university with. And perhaps the most vital one, when you grew up next door to a boy, only a year older than you, who possessed a love for cars and all things involving them. He would sculpt your life into one of his own, beginning from only the age of three. The two of you would form a shared love, a shared passion, for one sport. However, you found more interest in the mechanical side of things while he preferred to take the wheel. Still, you often wonder how your life would have played out, what you would have done, where you would have gone, who you would have become without him. What would have happened to you if he didn’t live next door? You could never even picture it. Especially now, fresh from university with a degree in automotive engineering hanging on your wall. But the craziest connection of them all? Getting an offer to work in the same sport as your neighbor-no, your childhood best friend. You just couldn’t believe it.

“Y/n you’re joking.” Sophia said on the afternoon the offer popped up in your inbox. She sat on the beanbag chair you used to have in your dorm. You were laying down in bed, lazily scrolling through Twitter before deciding to check your inbox. Now, you were sitting up straight, hand cupping your mouth as you read the email. “Let me see!”

You spun the laptop around, watching her eyes dart across the screen. “It’s not real, there is no way.”

But it was. The email would turn into a phone call, the phone call would turn into a headquarters visit, the visit would turn into a contract. Soon, only a few months after your January graduation, you would be in the Formula 1 paddock, clad in red, tending to the Ferrari livery.

You called Lando only a few weeks before the season started. The two of you hadn’t spoken in a while.

“Hello?”

“Lando, hey.” You scratched the back of your neck. How would he take it? Would he even care at all? Why were you calling with how things ended between the two of you?

There was a second of silence, although it felt like minutes. “Y/n, it’s been a minute. I heard you graduated. Congrats.”

“Oh? Who told you?”

“Mom. You know she's still best friends with yours.”

“Right,” You sighed. He didn’t like your Instagram post that compiled all your grad-photos. Of course he’d only heard it involuntarily. “How have you been?”

“Good.” He responded. “Just preparing for the season, you know?”

“That's actually what I was calling about,” Your heart was pounding. You were so excited to tell him, to let him know that not only did he make it into his dream field, but so did you. “I got a job.”

“Cool. Where at?”

“Ferrari.”

The silence that hung over the line only a little while ago returned. “Like at a shop somewhere in the UK?”

Not exactly the celebration you were hoping for. “No, uh, in F1. I’ll be in the paddock working on either Leclerc’s or Sainz’s car.”

“Oh.” He sniffled. “How’d you manage a job like that straight out of uni?”

“I applied. Didn’t think I would get it but here we are.”

“Well I guess I’ll see you around then.”

And that was it, your big call, your big announcement, all concluded with a ‘see you around’ like it was a conversation to be had in a school yard. You were hurt, your childhood best friend chalking your achievements up to something not worth being impressed about, but you didn’t have time to think about it. You had a job to do and damnit, you were sure you’d be doing it the best.

[nomie-11]

Chapter 1 - Reckoning of the Survivors

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This was the most surreal moment of Genevieve’s life this far, because any other day she would have questioned ‘what do you mean dead Brennan Sorrengail and missing Aviva Hale are sitting across from me, in the rebuilt Riorson house in rebuilt Aretia, forcing me to eat a honeyed biscuit, while Violet refuses to talk to me?’ But not today. This was normal now, apparently. 

Genevieve blinked, the world around her wobbling as if it were some fever dream. The honeyed biscuit in her hand felt too real, too solid, as if this small, inconsequential thing tethered her to her pain and reality. Across the table, Brennan Sorrengail—who was supposed to be dead—watched her with an unnerving calm, his eyes the same smart, judging view as his sister’s, Violet, who hadn’t so much as glanced in her direction since she entered the room. 

Her gaze shifted to her mother, although the mere thought of those words made her feel like throwing up. Aviva Hale sat there as though it hadn’t been five years since she disappeared, as though she hadn’t been presumed dead in the years following the wreckage of the rebellion. But there she was, alive, drinking her tea and looking just as she had the last time Genevieve saw her, only… older. 

Genevieve’s mind raced, scrambling to find some way to make sense of this impossible scene. She had just woken up not even hours ago, her bruises were still a nasty shade of purple and green, her mind still splintered with a horrible headache. She set the biscuit down carefully, trying to steady herself. This had to be some kind of trick, some twisted illusion brought on by the poison. 

  It wasn’t even that the craziest thing was that her mother was alive—it was Violet’s silence. She had to know that Liam was dead, and yet she wouldn’t speak. Genevieve knew that if Xaden had died and by some miracle she survived, she would be sobbing into Violet’s arms, not giving her the silent treatment. 

“You’re not real,” She whispered, voice still hoarse. “You can’t be real. You’re both supposed to be—”

Her eyes flitted between the two of them in a subdued panic. 

“---dead,” she finished, her voice fading into the silence. Her eyes darted from Violet’s stone-cold profile to Brennan’s quiet, patient expression, to the disorienting familiarity of her mother’s gaze. It was as though her memories had stepped out of her head and taken solid form, sitting before her, echoing with the weight of the past. Her mother’s face softened as she took in Genevieve’s confusion, but Violet remained unmoved, jaw tight as her gaze fixed on the wall behind her. 

“Real enough,” Brennan answered, his voice steady and infuriatingly calm. “And you, Genevieve, are very much alive.” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “Which is arguably the most surprising part of all of this, given what you’ve been through. But it seems…” He trailed off, shooting a glance at Violet, who only tightened her grip on her chair. 

Genevieve felt the bile rise in her throat. She had to stifle it, force it down. They hadn’t called her here to explain, it seemed. Hadn’t offered her a shred of the comfort she might have longed for in her deepest moments of despair. It was something else, something she couldn’t put her finger on—until Violet’s gaze finally, slowly, cut across the room to settle on her. 

The look in Violet’s eyes wasn’t the same soft, caring look that Genevieve had grown accustomed to seeing. It wasn’t just anger; it was pure, seething, aching fury. It startled Genevieve, pricking her skin like needles. 

“You should have died instead of Liam,” Violet finally said, her voice barely more than a breath, yet sharp enough to cut. 

Genevieve’s heart dropped, a hot, pulsing ache tearing through her chest. She wanted to speak, to tell her everything that had happened in his last moments, what he had said, what he had begged, but her mouth was dry, as though those very words were keeping her silent. She clenched her fists in her lap, nails digging into her palms. 

The silence thickened, pressing down on her, making it hard to breathe. She knew Violet had loved Liam, knew the depths of her grief was an endless chasm—but to hear those words, to hear that confirmation she had long believed, to hear them from her. 

She met Violet’s eyes, feeling her own guilt swell in the face of that raw, unbridled hatred. There was no argument she could make that would lessen it, no explanation that could undo the past. 

“I… I didn’t want him to die.” Her voice was barely audible, breaking under the weight of the truth. Violet’s eyes hardened, and her jaw clenched as if the sight of Genevieve was a betrayal. 

Genevieve’s throat tightened, and she swallowed hard, fighting against the wave of emotions threatening to engulf her. It felt like standing at the edge of an abyss, staring into the darkness, with Violet’s fury pulling her closer to the void. 

Brennan’s expression shifted slightly, a hint of sympathy flickering across his face. “Violet, this isn’t helping—”

“It is helping,” Violet interrupted, her voice rising as she finally stood up, pushing her chair back with a sharp scrape against the floor. “This isn’t about you, Brennan. This is about her.” She gestured wildly toward Genevieve, her eyes blazing. “You don’t know me anymore! You don’t get to waltz back into my life after six years, act like nothing happened, and expect me to just… forgive her!”

Genevieve’s heart raced. “Violet, please—”

“Don’t!” Violet shouted, her hands clenched into fists. “Don’t you dare try to play the victim now. You don’t get to speak to me like we’re friends. You think I don’t know what you did? You think I don’t know how you let him die?”

Genevieve recoiled as if she was physically struck. “I didn’t let him die! I tried to save him!”

“Did you?” Violet shot back, her voice dripping with scorn. “Because the last time I checked, he’s dead and you’re here, eating biscuits like it’s a tea party. How convenient for you.” 

Aviva finally looked up from her cup, her brows furrowed in a way that Violet could only see the resemblance between the mother and daughter before her. “Violet, stop. This isn’t the way—”

“No, you’re a pacifist, and this is the way!” Violet’s face was flushed, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I’m sick of pretending. I’ve lost everything because of her. You don’t even understand what we went through in trying to save her when she just let him die. You don’t get to just come back from the dead and act like everything is okay.” 

The realization struck Genevieve like a bolt of lightning. Violet was angry at her, yes, but Violet really was angry at Brennan. 

“Violet, please,” Genevieve implored, her voice cracking. “You don’t know what it was like. I thought I had lost you too, I thought everyone was gone. I thought you were gone!”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Violet stepped closer, invading Genevieve’s space with a motion that, from Violet, once felt welcoming. “You only think about yourself. You only think about who you have lost. You’re alive, and you think that makes it all better. But you have no idea what I’ve lived with every single day since Liam died and you’ve been asleep. The guilt, the grief, the anger.”

Genevieve felt tears prick her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, steeling her face in a line of defense she hadn't used against Violet in a year. “I lost Liam, too! I loved him—”

“Did you? Did you really?” Violet’s voice was now a whisper, filled with venom. “Because you certainly didn’t fight hard enough to keep him alive.” 

Brennan shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting between the two women. “Violet, she–”

“Shut up, Brennan!” Violet snapped, her voice loud and raw. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. This is between me and her!”

Genevieve shook her head, her own emotions swirling chaotically. “This isn’t helping anyone! You don’t understand what I did—”

“Then make me understand!” Violet’s voice rose again, fierce and unyielding. “Tell me how you’re not responsible for his death. Tell me why I shouldn’t want to scream at you everytime I see your face. Because all I see is the person who got to live while my boyfriend got slaughtered!”

“Violet!” Aviva finally interjected, her voice stronger now, but Genevieve could see the hesitance and pain etched across her face. “This isn’t the answer. You can’t just lash out at her—”

“I can’t? I can’t!? What am I supposed to do? Just sit here and pretend that everything is fine?” Violet turned back to Genevieve, her voice trembling. “You think I want to hate you? I love you! But how can I not? You’re the reminder of everything I’ve lost.” 

Now this was ironic. Genevieve couldn’t help but harden her gaze at the words she could swear she had yelled at Violet not too many months ago. But they had gotten over it when they were placed in the same squad, right? So maybe they could get over it again. 

“You think this is easy for me?” Genevieve whispered, her words harsh as always. “You too are a reminder of everything stolen from me, but I looked past it!”

Brennan sighed, his tone attempting to mediate the chaos. “Look, all of us are feeling the weight of the past. But if we’re going to move forward, we have to face it together, not tear each other apart—”

“Together?” Violet echoed bitterly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You think we can work together after this? You think I can look at her and forget? Forget that he’s dead and she’s alive? Forget even asking her to work on a team, she doesn’t even know how to!”

Genevieve’s heart pounded in her chest, and suddenly, she felt as if she were suffocating. “I can’t do this,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I can’t—”

“Don’t you dare walk away!” Violet warned, her voice low and dangerous. 

“I can’t stay!” Genevive shouted, her breath hitching as she knocked her chair to the floor. “I will not be chained down. I can’t be here, not like this. I’m sorry I’m alive, believe me I wish I was dead, too, but I didn’t ask for this! You don’t know what I’ve gone through—”

“And I don’t care!” Violet snapped back. “Your pain isn’t special! We’re all hurting here, Genevieve. But you need to face what you’ve done!”

Genevieve felt a surge of despair welling inside her. “Do you really think I’m responsible for Liam’s death?” 

“I think you’re a coward,” Violet hissed, her eyes narrowing. “And I can’t stand to look at you any longer.” 

That was it. The words pierced Geneiveve like a dagger, and she felt the heat of betrayal engulf her once more. “I’m done,” Genevieve spat, her voice still but her hands shaking with fury and heartbreak. “I’m not going to try to justify my existence to you.” 

She turned on her heel, storming out of the room, leaving behind the remnants of shattered bonds and unspoken truths, the echoes of anger and sorrow resonating in her ears. 

—————————

The rest of the Riorson house was strangely nostalgic. Huge tapestries and old architecture that all looked vaguely familiar greeted her as she wandered the gaping hallways. She almost felt like a child again, the house enveloping her in memories she had long buried. 

Every corner seemed to echo with laughter and whispers from years gone by, The scent of age wood mingled with the faint aroma of lavender and mint transported her back to sunny afternoons spent running through halls not too far from here, the sunlight streaming through the artfully stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the polished floors. 

As she walked deeper into the heart of the house, her fingers dutifully massaged her sore shoulder, which seemed to hurt twice as badly than before. Everything about her was weird now, she was sore, and bruised beyond hell, and her legs felt weak. Not to mention, her hair was streaked with black now. It was odd. 

Lost in her own thoughts, she barely noticed the figure rapidly approaching from behind until he was right next to her. 

“Hey! Genevieve, wait!” Bodhi said, jogging down the hall to catch up with her, and she jumped out of her skin at the sudden interruption. 

The surprise of his voice sent a jolt through her, making her wince. She turned to face him, trying to mask her discomfort with a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. 

“Hey,” she replied, her voice softer than she intended. She brushed her good hand through her hair, feeling the subtle roughness of the newer black strands mixing with the familiar texture of her old white hair. 

“Are you okay?” Bodhi asked, concern lacing his tone as he fell into step beside her. “You look… rough.” 

“Thanks,” she shrugged, rolling her eyes despite the smirk tugging at her lips. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a herd of sheep. Everything hurts. My head is splitting down the middle as we speak.” 

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You should have seen yourself out there. It was… intense. You barreled through three wyvern like it was nothing. It was pretty amazing, you know?” 

“Yeah, well,” she sighed, her expression faltering as memories of the fight rushed back. “It didn’t feel amazing at the time. More like… death. I can’t believe I actually managed to take the life from a wyvern, although it definitely feels like I did now.” She pressed her fingers into her shoulder harder, trying to ease the persistent ache. 

Bodhi fell silent for a moment. “Were you ever here? Before the rebellion and everything? I don’t think I ever saw you around.” 

She shrugged, and nodded her head no. “My dad was hell-bent on keeping my mother and I hidden away from the world. Only Quinn ever got out.” 

He nods, and the silence is suffocating. “Well, Xaden wanted me to–”

She groaned, rubbing a hand down her face, her head feeling like it would explode. “Are you my bodyguard now? Because I swear to Malek if he’s ‘assigned’ you to me–”

Bodhi chuckled, holding up his hands defensively. “No, no, trust me, I’m not here under orders. He just asked me to check in. Said something about you being too stubborn to ask for help yourself.” 

Genevieve rolled her eyes, the motion only making the horrid migraine worse. “Right, because I’d want someone trailing behind me every second again,” she muttered, leaning her shoulder against the cool stone wall for some support. “Because that ended so well the first time.” 

“Hey, I get it,” Bodhi replied, his voice more subdued. “But… it doesn’t hurt to have someone around, y’know? I know we’re just friends by-proxy, but it's just in case the floor decides to meet your face.” His tone was light, but the concern was unmistakable. 

“Ha-ha,” she deadpanned, even though the corners of her mouth lifted in spite of herself. The walls around them seemed to close in slightly, the colors swirling in her peripheral vision as her headache throbbed again, sharper this time, almost like a warning. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to blink away the dizziness. She pressed a finger to her temple, trying to will the pain away. 

“You okay?” Bodhi’s voice broke through, a little softer now, as if he’d noticed her wavering stance. 

“Fine,” she muttered, a little harsher than she meant. “Just give me a second. I think I might pass out if I don’t sit down.” 

Without hesitation, Bodhi put a calloused hand on her arm, gently guiding her to the floor under an arched window. Sunlight poured in, illuminating dust motes in the air, and she focused on them to steady herself. 

“You’ve kinda done the impossible,” Bodhi shrugged. “Whatever poison you took from Violet in combination from the wyvern should have killed you. No one expects you to bounce back right away. We’re honestly kind of surprised you can even stand.” 

Genevieve’s chest tightened at his words, a prickling frustration gnawing at her. The weakness—the exhaustion—wasn't something she’d wanted anyone to see. She was supposed to be strong, a fighter who’d taken down multiple wyvern with her bare hands, who’d defied every rule and lived. But here she was, barely standing, her head pounding as if her own body were rebelling against her. 

“Look, if it’s any consolation,” Bodhi continued, leaning against the wall next to her, “you can be as angry or frustrated as you need to be. No one’s judging.” 

She huffed, rubbing her temple as she tried to gather her thoughts. “It’s not anger. Not exactly.” She struggled to find the words, but nothing in her mind was clear. “It’s a lot to process, and I’m just… tired. Of everything.” 

He nodded, understanding evident in his gaze. “Sometimes the hardest battles are the ones we have with ourselves. So, how about this: we’ll go to the valley and meet everyone up there, decide if we’re going back to Basgiath, and wherever we end up, if you feel like yelling or throwing something, I’m here for it.” 

Genevieve snorted, but the hint of a smile lingered. “Don’t tempt me. I might just take you up on that.” 

—-----------------------------------

What Genevieve did not plan on, was that before she was allowed to go up to the valley to leave, she had to have a one on one with her mother, who was quite possibly the last person she wanted a one on one with. 

It was just… awkward silence, as she sat across from an older, stranger version of a familiar woman. Her eyes were soft, but Genevieve couldn’t find herself to make any face but scowl. 

“My starchild,” Aviva sighed, her tea-cup still steady in her hands. “You’re so different, I wonder what happened to you.” 

Genevieve’s jaw tightened at the words, her fingers gripping the arms of her chair as she held her mother’s gaze, feeling the heat of anger bubbling beneath her exhaustion. “What happened to me?” she repeated, her mind flashing back to that cell, to the stars she painstakingly carved with her dulled down fingernails. “Well, I don’t know, maybe it was the whole… abandonment thing? Or the part where grandma died and I was captured, and spent over a year of my life alone, trying desperately to stay alive. Maybe that had something to do with it.” 

Aviva’s expression flickered, a look of concern and sorrow crossing her face, but Genevieve didn’t care. She couldn’t find any sympathy in herself for this woman, this stranger who had once been ‘mom’. 

“Why can’t we be like Violet and Brennan, hm?” Her mother wistfully sighed, “They had such a calm, civil conversation. They talked about wars and battles and how we might come out on top, and we just sit here awkwardly. I want to know about you, hear things about your life. Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on in that strong head of yours.” 

“I mean, you left,” Genevieve snapped back, her voice gaining strength as the words spilled out. “You can’t seriously expect me to just welcome you back into my life with open arms after that. You just… left us. Let me. And when I needed you, when I was scared, and alone, and begging for someone—anyone—to help me, you were gone. You didn’t care enough to stay, to even try. And now you want to sit here and wonder why I can’t be like Violet? She had Mira and her father when Brennan ‘died’, I only had grandma, and then she died too.” 

Aviva opened her mouth as if to speak, but Genevieve wasn’t finished. “Don’t pretend like you have any right to wonder, to question what’s going on in my life. Because you don’t know me. You don’t get to sit here and look at me like you still know who I am.” Her hands shook and her head pulsed in pain, but she held the pale green eyes of her mother with unwavering defiance. 

“Do you know what it’s like,” she went on, her voice wavering as the anger began to mix with the pain she’d kept buried for so long, “to grow up waiting for someone who’s never going to come back? To feel like you aren’t worth staying for? That’s what you did to me. That’s who you turned me into—a girl who had to learn to survive on her own.” 

Aviva’s face had paled, and her hands trembled slightly as she set down her teacup, but Genevieve barely noticed. She was lost in her own words, the resentment, the hurt she’d locked away for so long finally breaking free. 

“I don’t know who you are anymore, mother. I don’t even know if I want to know,” she admitted, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “Because to me, you’re a stranger. Someone I can’t love. I don’t want to love someone who left me to rot.” 

The silence that followed was suffocating, thick with the words that spilled from Genevieve’s mouth like vomit, but she had nothing more to say. She was tired of clinging to the past, tired of holding onto memories of someone who hadn’t been there when she needed her most. She’d carved her one path, survived the unimaginable, and now… now she just wanted to be free of this ghost who somehow seemed to rise from the dead. 

“Let’s get you up to the valley,” Aviva sighed. “It’s very clear that you don’t want to talk to me, but if you ever want to let your mother into your life again, I will be here with open arms and a warm cup of lemon balm tea.” 

Genevieve’s heart lurched in her chest. Lemon balm tea had been her favorite. It may have been five years of lies and deception, but her mother had remembered that, of all things. 

Geneiveve clenched her fists, the words Aviva had just spoken swirling in her mind. She wanted to shake them off, to walk away without a backward glance, but the mention of that tea—that silly, small memory of it—gripped her unexpectedly, churning her frustration with a pang of nostalgia. She didn’t look back as she rose from the chair, her expression hard. 

Aviva watched her daughter, her gaze softening, but she said nothing further. Instead, she simply led Genevieve to the doors that opened up to the winding path leading to the valley, to freedom, to the mountains where Xaden and Sgaeyl, Violet and Astrape, and Tairn were waiting. As they stepped outside, the wind swept through, cold and bracing, and Aviva paused, glancing at Genevieve. 

“I know you may never forgive me,” she murmured, her voice nearly lost to the wind. “But there are things you still don’t understand, things I could never tell you. And you’ve grown into a wonderful, beautiful woman.”

Genevieve’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, without any help from you. Things you could never tell me?” she repeated. “That’s a nice way of avoiding the truth, but I don’t need your cryptic messages or your ‘maybe someday’. I don’t want anything from you anymore.”

With that, she turned her back on Aviva and began the ascent to the valley, each step carrying her farther from her mother’s silence and closer to the promise of return. Aviva didn’t follow, she merely stood at the entrance, watching as Genevieve walked away, her expression unreadable. 

The path wound steeply upward, dotting with rugged rocks and patches of wild herbs that were all strikingly familiar. The hard beat of the sun was a welcomed comfort as her head pounded, breaths growing heavy as she forced herself upward. The sight of the valley opening up before her brought her renewed energy. She could see them now—Xaden and Sgaeyl, the other dragons. Holy shit, Andarna looked so different.  

That dragon in front of her had striking blue scales, and was so much bigger than she had been before. The blue in her scales was so deep it was almost a glittering, iridescent purple. 

But she forces herself to look away. That teenager-looking dragon was not her problem, that was Violet’s can of worms to open. Turning around, she’s face to face with Imogen, Garrick, Bodhi, Violet, and Brennan, as well as two other cadets who she still doesn’t know. 

She feels guilty for half a second, before remembering that Basgiath isn’t exactly known for fostering friendships outside of your own squad. Nor are they known for fostering great relationships.

Her eyes narrow on Xaden. 

“We have to go back.” She folds her arms across her chest, mentally preparing herself for a terrible, long flight back. “No matter what my mother says, if we don’t go back, they’ll kill every cadet with a rebellion relic.” 

Xaden nods, as though he’d already come to the same conclusion. 

“We need to stay at Basgiath, too,” Violet agrees. “It’s a strategic point for us.” 

“They’ll see right through whatever lie you’re going to tell, and they’ll execute you, Violet,” Brennan retorts. “According to our intelligence, General Sorrengail already knows you and her prized prisoner are missing.”

Genevieve rolls her eyes. Of course she didn’t know. Colonel Aetos was in charge of the games this year, she didn’t see when he read the missives of the final War Games assignment. She didn’t know. 

“Our mother won’t let them kill me.”

“Say that again, but slowly,” Brennan says softly. He tilts his head and looks at her, and Genevieve can see on Violet’s face that there’s a semblance of familiarity in his gaze that she didn’t see before. “And this time try to convince yourself that you mean it. Her loyalty’s are so crystal-fucking-clear that she might as well tattoo yes, there are venin, now go back to class on her forehead.” 

“That doesn’t mean she’ll kill me. I can make her believe our story. She’ll want to know if I'm the one telling it.” 

“She’ll kill Genevieve though,” Brennan retorted. “And you seriously don’t think she’ll kill you? She threw you into the riders Quadrant!”

“Maybe she should kill Genevieve!”

“We cannot be having this conversation again!” Genevieve threw her hands up in the air and moved back to her dragon. 

“And yeah, she did, but guess what? I became a rider. She may be a lot of things, but she won’t let Colonel Aetoes or even Markham kill me without evidence. You didn’t see her when you didn’t come home, Brennan. She was… devastated.” 

His hands curl into fists. “I know the atrocious things she did in my name.” His eyes flit to Genevieve, who is glaring at the ground, and the black flowers blooming at her feet. 

“She wasn’t there,” one of the guys Genevieve didn’t know says, putting his hands up when the rest turn to glare at him. He’s a little shorter than the others, with a third squad, flame section path on his shoulder, and light brown hair. 

“Seriously, Ciaran?” The brunette second-year lifts a hand to her forehead, shielding her face from the sun, revealing her own first squad, flame section patch on her shoulder. “You’re defending General Sorrengail?”

“No, Eya, I’m not. But she wasn’t there when orders were handed out—” He cuts off the sentence as two eyebrows slash down in warning. “And Aetos was in charge of War Games this year,” he adds. 

Genevieve takes a note. Ciaran and Eya. She looks at the lean guy, who pushed his glasses up his pointed nose with a dark-brown hand, standing next to Garrick’s hulking build. “I’m so sorry, but what is your name?”

“Masen,” he replies with a quick smile. “And if it makes you feel better”---he glances at Brennan—“I don’t think your mom had anything to do with the War Games this year, either. Aetos was pretty loud about his dad planning the whole thing.” 

“Thank you,” Violet nods, her eyes making an ‘I told you so’ look at her brother. “I would bet my life and Genevieve’s that she didn’t know what was waiting for us.” Her betting Genevieve’s life now doesn’t reassure her, but it’s the sentiment that counts, she guesses. 

“You willing to bet all of ours, too?” Eya asks, clearly not convinced, looking at Imogen for support, but not getting anything with a quick shrug. 

“I vote we go,” Garrick says. “We have to risk it. They’ll kill the others if we don’t return, and we can’t cut off the flow of weapons from Basgiath. Who agrees?” 

Genevieve’s hand rises immediately, and one by one, every other hand rises besides Xaden’s and Brennan’s. 

Xaden’s jaw flexes, and too little lines appear between his brows. He’s thinking, scheming. Genevieve doesn’t even want to know what stipulations he is planning to put in place to keep her safe. 

“The second Aetos puts his hands on either of them, we lose Aretia and you lose your lives,” Brennan says to him. 

“I’ll train her to shut him out,” Xaden responds. “They already have the strongest shields of their year, and Genevieve already knows how to resist torture. Violet only needs to learn how to keep them up at all times.”

“And until she can shield out a memory reader? How are you going to keep his hands off her if you’re not even there? Liam won’t be there either, to remind him that Violet isn’t ‘his’ anymore.” Brennan challenges. Of course, Genevieve isn’t even in the equation anymore. It feels as if everything is done surrounding Violet. Violet this, Violet that, we need to protect Violet. Isn’t she the most powerful? Shouldn’t she be the one with the most stipulation and worry?

Then again, who cares for her the way they care for Violet?

No one, really. 

“He’s scared of Genevieve,” Xaden shrugs. “We’ve all seen it before, he listens to her orders.” His mouth curves into a ruthless smile at the thought. “If everyone is sure about going, we’ll fly as soon as Andarna’s awake.” 

“We’re sure,” Garrick answers, and Genevieve nods, swallowing the knot forming in her throat. It’s the right decision, but it could also get her and everyone else killed.

Xaden nods. “I have a plan, but we have to be back at Basgiath in forty-eight hours for this to work, and a day of that is needed for flight time.” 

“What’s in forty-eight hours?” Violet asks. 

“Graduation.” 

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

And.... we're back! I know I said I would be 2-3 weeks but genuinely I couldn't stay away! We will see how long I will stick to this schedule of Wednesday and Saturdays as we get farther and farther into the school year, but for now, The Tragic Hero will be posted on the same schedule as The wounded Healer.

Anyways, what did we think? Violet and Genevieve are having a little rocky moment (yikes), Xaden and Genevieve are having a big rocky moment (more yikes), but Genevieve and Bodhi are becoming friends! Let me know your thoughts on everything~

As always, if you enjoyed, leave a like, comment, or kudo and I'll be back on Saturday with chapter 2!

-------

Taglist: @awkardnerd , @hannraumari , @minjix , @glaciuswduo , @wolfbc97 , @heeseungthel0ml

[redge]

Oshi no Ko Chapter 154

I need an outlet for this chapter so instead of posting a thread on Twitter (X), I'll just post my thoughts here.

Rereading this chapter while listening to this song on repeat. 💔

I despise Airi Himekawa. I don't know what horrible things has happened to her but no one, not even Hikaru Kamiki, deserved what happened to him as a child. Airi molesting this child is what started this all and I hate her.

For him to actually tell Ai "let's get married!" like that's the most normal thing going forward like "Taiki's my son I don't know what to do about it but with you, I will take responsibilty so let's get married" oh gosh just by typing this and knowing what are on the next pages is crushing me 😭

Also, Ai 😭 Would she know better? They're both so young that time but Ai left him because she wanted to take responsibility and lift the burden off Kamiki when they could have... 😭

And the way Kamiki just accepted it as it is even when he was so broken because he also believes he's undeserving of Ai or anyone's love 😭

But broken people do crazy shits and one of the craziest thing young broken Kamiki did was to tell her address to Ryosuke. But oh to read this line:

"The despair I felt when the girl I loved so much... That I was willing to sacrifice my life for... told me she couldn't love me." 💔😭

"We were just forcing our fantasies on Ai." He understood the lie she built as an idol but not the most important lie she told him I am heartbroken and I am typing this hearing the lyrics "it's torturous, tonight is gonna be the loneliest" SEND HELP 😭

The DVD oh my god 😭 Imagine how Hikaru might have felt after hearing Ai's voice for the first time in a long time, talking about him, how she understood how he was crushed by the entertainment industry, how she knows he's depending on him.

"The truth is, I really wanted to be with him forever. I wanted to carry the burden he carried and raise our children together. I wanted to live my future with him. After all, he's the first person I've ever wanted to love. Even though I don't really understand love."

"The first person I've ever wanted to love" From this line, you can't help but think, maybe when she was stabbed and said "I love you" to her children then the sigh of relief "I finally said it" maybe it was because on the first time, she wasn't able to say it properly to Kamiki, knowing in her heart that he was the first person she wanted to love. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 Tears. Just tears. The Entertainment Industry-idols and artists- give happiness to their audience but at what cost?! Both of them were willing to take the risk and thinking of a future together but it's too late now because Ai is gone and whose fault? 😭😭😭

If Aqua's revenge is to crush his father mentally, make him live or die in regret, than good job Aqua because as a reader, I don't feel anything but regret reading through these panels. 😭

And then that last panel with Ruby. Makes me think that maybe she actually know who Kamiki was in chapter 146. Maybe she was not seeking answer from god, but she was trying to get an answer from her father because she knew all along that the man with umbrella was her father, because everytime she visits Ai's grave, she see's him visiting too. What a plot twist it would be if it was actually Ruby who's the first one who knew that Hikaru Kamiki was their father.

Ah. The story of Ai and Kamiki is so heartbreaking it resonates with this lyrics from The Loneliest by Maneskin:

You'll be the saddest part of me

A part of me that will never be mine

It's obvious

Tonight is gonna be the loneliest

Akakasa-sensei, I respect you and your writing. What a chapter.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

(Saw someone do this and decided it seemed fun~

link to my ao3 here)

How many works do you have on AO3?

85.

What's your total AO3 word count?

915,568 words~

 What fandoms do you write for?

Currently it’s for Helios Rising Heroes, Hypnosis Mic, Obey Me, Paradox Live, and Twisted Wonderland!

I’ve previously written for A3!, Ace Attorney, Ace of Diamond, Borderlands, Bungou Stray Dogs, Free!, Fire Emblem Three Houses, Fire Force, Gorillaz, Hero Academia, Kuroko no Basuke, Magi, Naruto, Red Dead Redemption, Run with the Wind, RWBY, Shokugeki no Souma, Stardew Valley, Tokyo Ghoul

Top five fics by kudos?

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes [Twisted Wonderland] – 6,298

We’d Be a Hit Together [Haikyuu!!] – 6,211

Super Powered Love [My Hero Academia] – 5,436

A Devil’s Bride [Obey Me!] – 3,583

I Need Love [Hypnosis Mic] – 1,928

Do you respond to comments?

I try to! I always read and appreciate comments made on my posts, on AO3 and Tumblr, I always check to see if someone has tagged it with commentary <3

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

To be fair I hurt Malleus with the whole ‘you’re likely someone with a shorter lifespan’ idea constantly, but The Brightest Star was definitely a sadder one from my KNB days.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of them because I truly hate unhappy endings. You can probably tell just from how I write that I try to put a positive spin on things, but I am trying to just let the angst happen or leave things off with ambiguity rather than specifying that a character only seems to feel a certain way when they’re actually feeling something else entirely.

Do you get hate on fics?

Occasionally. I remember getting this angry message about me being a feminist because I made the reader like dom Hanamiya from KNB and they were MAAAAD about it lmao I also remember being on fanfic dot net and getting argued with and I just sent the brady bunch theme song over and over until they stopped messaging me back

Do you write smut?

I do! Not the biggest fan of it honestly because I never feel like it’s half as sexy as the things I read other people write, but I do get in moods and with certain characters they just need to be manhandled a lil, you know?

Craziest crossover?

I have never written a crossover in my LIFE

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Awhile back I did but I was told about it and the story was quickly taken down, I think it was on Wattpad or something like that.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! I’ve gotten a handful of requests for my more popular ones to get translated, I don’t mind at all!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I mean I’m co-writing a book with the other admin on this blog, so does that count?

All time favorite ship?

Me and all my lil husbands.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I was writing this Criminal Minds fanfic that I had all plotted out, dramatic quotes at the beginning of episodes already picked, but I don’t think I’ll ever bother focusing on it.

What are your writing strengths?

I would say characterization is my strength! The characters are the best parts of fanfics after all and I always try to do research on the characters I write; if they’re ones I don’t know as well I’ll scan the wiki and read extra stories with them in it just to get a better handle on them! It’s why when there’s characters that haven’t been around long enough or don’t have a lot of content translated for them that I don’t like writing for them because I need at least something to go off of, I don’t want to have to make up their personality myself

What are your writing weaknesses?

Details. Which is a horrible thing to say as a writer, but I do feel like my writing lacks details here and there. Like with dialogue, I’ve been trying to write more in-between actions while the characters are talking since most people aren’t just standing still, especially if a character was doing something before another person entered the room. Descriptions of the world around the characters

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I don’t like using google translate but I do have characters I love who speak other languages. Those heinous Hetalia days where you’d randomly put a word into the middle of an otherwise english sentence… they haunt me. But what I try to do with Citron from A3 is write some of his dialogue in parentheses to show he’s speaking in a language that the reader might not understand, and I feel like that works a little better for someone who doesn’t speak anything but english to do for the sake of not butchering another language.

First fandom you wrote in?

I truly wish I knew. I know I wrote for Naruto back in the day, and The Outsiders was one of the first full length fics I did. But that was back on Quizilla which has since turned to dust. I was also on Lunaescence for a while, whose creators have also turned to dust apparently. What a world

Favourite fic you've written?

It’s hard to pic just one when most of my fics are like, stand-alone short little things. But I think one I’m very fond of (which was written for the other admin so it explains why I put so much effort into it) was Snowy Mountain Getaway, which was a FE3H Dimitri/Reader College AU fic.

[yolkchild]

Why do you ship what you ship? (Not judging, just asking!!)

The ship I'm craziest about, Putty/Orel, I find it to tread the line between healthy and toxic just right as to make for both messy scenarios and opportunities for mutual growth, and I think the growth aspect ends up neglected in most (but not all) other ships you can conjure up for this show's cast. Which isn't to say the pure messes aren't enjoyable, they are, it can be fun to see people act pathetic or self-centered or hurtful; but I've come to appreciate balance more and more at this point in my life. I've also come to appreciate religiosity a lot more, the way I see it there's a lot of room for those themes in a relationship between a disillusioned reverend and his number one zealot. And oh, the sweetness of the Revs choosing to listen to that boy's advice, like no one else would in this town, and the paradox of having one of the perpetrators of dogma also become a refuge from it, in his accidentally-benevolent hypocrisy. Orel would have a modicum of a safe space, where he can be heard and seen and appreciated, where he can express more of himself—maybe even have a cooler father figure in some aspects. Even if Orel's still susceptible to Moralton's lies to the point of great damage, or the burden of their secret gets heavy, or Rod gets selfish and deceptive and presumptuous at times. Balance: sometimes you sway left and then right and back left until you find those sweet spots, instabilities and stabilities often walk together.

That, and I'm a sucker for age differences. I used to be more shameful about it, I like to think I'm not as much nowadays, but it's a powerful thing to me, all the possibilities that can happen in such a gap. I'm also just drawn to religious figures and I think Reverend Putty is hot and relatable, and Orel is also hot and relatable, so naturally what you do is put them together and identify as all roles between them.

Most my other ships would be preying on my age thing. Creepler, anything with Creepler, he's a little embarrassing to elaborate on because he's pure indulgence for me. There's a certain freedom in enjoying Bad Guys because any judgements come more immediate, they're easier to get out of the way and allow for deeper exploration of their psyches, their motivations and the environments shaping them, since the goal no longer becomes getting a righteous message across. Especially compelling is seeing what relates a Bad Guy to their more innocuous peers: I'm sure Creepler and Sculptham share enough in common to warrant multiple "dates." To me, Creepler can't love without Doughy who can't love without Sculptham who can't love without Creepler, this triad is crucial to understanding each character and their relationships to one another. The teacher with a complicated relationship with sex and men, the shady pedophile who fills her needs in a twisted way, the easy target they share who just wants to be seen. It's one pure mess as I've described earlier, it's bleak and no one truly wins, but broken houses can stay upright for a long time.

There's a lot more I'm fond of, ship-wise, both problematic and not. Danielle and the Puppingtons, cool. The Puppingtons themselves, awesome. Rod and the Puppingtons? Oo la la. Stephanie and every possible single woman, hell yeah let's see where this goes. Chances are, if I hadn't considered it or if I avoid doing so, if I'm not crazy about it, it's probably because the motivation behind a pairing (or its discussion) turned to have more to do with real-world messaging than the chemistry the characters have.

[sheriffopossum]

Nellie stood in disbelief as Clover walked back into the main room where everyone anxiously awaited. Just earlier she was a cold corpse, bleeding out on the table, still as death, and yet there she was now as though none of that ever happened. Nellie wasn't real familiar with science or medicine, but even she knew that that wasn't normal.

Clover spoke to the group delicately, obviously picking her words carefully. She talked about the charity that night, how it was a test to see if the Darlings would strike, how she risked her own life to see how far they would go. She started to say how she couldn't give any answers which finally burst the dam of questions, filling the room. Nellie watched as Clover raised her hand, quickly silencing the onslaught.

Clover's voice wavered just slightly as she spoke about the reality they were in: the Darlings would hunt each member of their ragtag group without second thought. What she said next though, nearly took Nellie's breath away.

"You can come back, just like how you saw me do it," echoed in Nellie's head repeatedly. Come...back? From death, as though it were some cool party trick? She knew that members of the Darlings had some uncanny ability to do so even after being completely torn to pieces, but she figured there was some strange dark magic at play there. Now the same thing was being offered to her?

"So, are you with me?" Clover asked, snapping Nellie out of her daze.

She gripped her walking cane tightly as she furrowed her eyebrows together. Well, she thought, looks like it's now or never.

"Clover, do you remember the day I accepted your proposal?" Nellie began, slowly taking a step forward. Clover stood still as a statue, her expression neutral as the company's arms dealer moved closer.

"I certainly do, dear," Clover replied wearily, folding her arms across her chest. "You said that I was crazy--"

"I said that you was the craziest, most batshit insane person to go against THE most powerful mob in the city, hell probably the whole country!" Nellie finished for her, her southern drawl honeying each syllable. She stood before the group's leader, looking up as she planted a hand on her hip.

"But, I also said that you gave me hope. Hope that I haven't felt in years," Nellie added, her facial features softening. "I gave up hope in ever getting my brother back from those twisted bastards, just accepting that he was gone forever. But you, YOU ignited that fire back in my heart, that determination to git my Bubba back home, that he's not a lost cause."

Nellie paused, looking deeply up at Clover. Her words were softer this time, as she lifted her hand up to place on her leader's shoulder.

"Family sticks together, and I ain't about to be no bitch and run off with my tail between my legs." She gave a playful wink and smiled.

"Whatever voodoo-hoodoo shit you got cooked up, well count me in. I already got a target on my back for betraying the Darlings like I did, ain't no way in hell I'd be able to outrun them, and I fer sure ain't about to give up the chance to make a difference in this city and everyone who's been fucked by them assholes.

"Ride or die, partner. And seems like you got something to say about the dyin' part." --------------------------- ;AKSJDFLAJS;DLFJALSDKFALSDKF finally finished Nellie's reply to Clover's offer!!! I'm still not 100% happy with how the last panel turned out, but I already redid it at least 3 times so 😩 But yeah, looks like Nellie's on board the death-defying crazy train that Clover's conducting. So excited to see what happens next 💛

Clover belongs to @chimeracarnival Mob!AU belongs to @clownsuu Wonder who that mysterious brother Nellie mentioned is whoooooOoooOooo 👀

[paraliveimaginesblog]

(Saw someone do this and decided it seemed fun~ also posted to my TWST blog

link to my ao3 here)

How many works do you have on AO3?

85.

What's your total AO3 word count?

915,568 words~

 What fandoms do you write for?

Currently it’s for Helios Rising Heroes, Hypnosis Mic, Obey Me, Paradox Live, and Twisted Wonderland!

I’ve previously written for A3!, Ace Attorney, Ace of Diamond, Borderlands, Bungou Stray Dogs, Free!, Fire Emblem Three Houses, Fire Force, Gorillaz, Hero Academia, Kuroko no Basuke, Magi, Naruto, Red Dead Redemption, Run with the Wind, RWBY, Shokugeki no Souma, Stardew Valley, Tokyo Ghoul

Top five fics by kudos?

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes [Twisted Wonderland] – 6,298

We’d Be a Hit Together [Haikyuu!!] – 6,211

Super Powered Love [My Hero Academia] – 5,436

A Devil’s Bride [Obey Me!] – 3,583

I Need Love [Hypnosis Mic] – 1,928

Do you respond to comments?

I try to! I always read and appreciate comments made on my posts, on AO3 and Tumblr, I always check to see if someone has tagged it with commentary <3

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

To be fair I hurt Malleus with the whole ‘you’re likely someone with a shorter lifespan’ idea constantly, but The Brightest Star was definitely a sadder one from my KNB days.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of them because I truly hate unhappy endings. You can probably tell just from how I write that I try to put a positive spin on things, but I am trying to just let the angst happen or leave things off with ambiguity rather than specifying that a character only seems to feel a certain way when they’re actually feeling something else entirely.

Do you get hate on fics?

Occasionally. I remember getting this angry message about me being a feminist because I made the reader like dom Hanamiya from KNB and they were MAAAAD about it lmao I also remember being on fanfic dot net and getting argued with and I just sent the brady bunch theme song over and over until they stopped messaging me back

Do you write smut?

I do! Not the biggest fan of it honestly because I never feel like it’s half as sexy as the things I read other people write, but I do get in moods and with certain characters they just need to be manhandled a lil, you know?

Craziest crossover?

I have never written a crossover in my LIFE

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Awhile back I did but I was told about it and the story was quickly taken down, I think it was on Wattpad or something like that.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! I’ve gotten a handful of requests for my more popular ones to get translated, I don’t mind at all!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I mean I’m co-writing a book with the other admin on this blog, so does that count?

All time favorite ship?

Me and all my lil husbands.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I was writing this Criminal Minds fanfic that I had all plotted out, dramatic quotes at the beginning of episodes already picked, but I don’t think I’ll ever bother focusing on it.

What are your writing strengths?

I would say characterization is my strength! The characters are the best parts of fanfics after all and I always try to do research on the characters I write; if they’re ones I don’t know as well I’ll scan the wiki and read extra stories with them in it just to get a better handle on them! It’s why when there’s characters that haven’t been around long enough or don’t have a lot of content translated for them that I don’t like writing for them because I need at least something to go off of, I don’t want to have to make up their personality myself

What are your writing weaknesses?

Details. Which is a horrible thing to say as a writer, but I do feel like my writing lacks details here and there. Like with dialogue, I’ve been trying to write more in-between actions while the characters are talking since most people aren’t just standing still, especially if a character was doing something before another person entered the room. Descriptions of the world around the characters

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I don’t like using google translate but I do have characters I love who speak other languages. Those heinous Hetalia days where you’d randomly put a word into the middle of an otherwise english sentence… they haunt me. But what I try to do with Citron from A3 is write some of his dialogue in parentheses to show he’s speaking in a language that the reader might not understand, and I feel like that works a little better for someone who doesn’t speak anything but english to do for the sake of not butchering another language.

First fandom you wrote in?

I truly wish I knew. I know I wrote for Naruto back in the day, and The Outsiders was one of the first full length fics I did. But that was back on Quizilla which has since turned to dust. I was also on Lunaescence for a while, whose creators have also turned to dust apparently. What a world

Favourite fic you've written?

It’s hard to pic just one when most of my fics are like, stand-alone short little things. But I think one I’m very fond of (which was written for the other admin so it explains why I put so much effort into it) was Snowy Mountain Getaway, which was a FE3H Dimitri/Reader College AU fic.

[orangepanic]

Thanks for the tag, @noexoozes

20 Questions for Fic Writers

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 143! Wow, how did that happen?

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 1,611,020 words. Oh. That's how that happened.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Predominantly Avatar: The Legend of Korra, with a few Avatar: The Last Airbender and the odd crossover for funsies.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

AWOL - An LOK season two rewrite where General Iroh defies President Raiko and goes with Asami Sato on a secret mission to aid the Southern Water Tribe. Irosami.

Severance - A twisted soulmate AU where General Iroh dies in the Battle of Yue Bay and sticks around to haunt Asami Sato. Irosami.

The Mango Tree - The last days of Mai's life as told through her family members as she gives them one final gift.

Glass - A sequel to AWOL where Asami and Iroh get caught up in a lot of intrigue leading up to a new civil war. Irosami.

Smoke - My Equalist!Asami enemies to lovers AU. You guessed it, Irosami.

5. Do you respond to comments? I do! I try to respond to every comment if I can.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Without a doubt, Endgame, a story where Asami and Hiroshi's battle at the end of season one goes differently. I usually write happy endings. This isn't it.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? The 142 other fics? Lol, most of my fics have happy endings. I'm particularly partial to the ending of Glass though.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Less than I used to. I think the fandom has moved on. 100% of the hate I've gotten has been from people who don't like the ship I write.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I do. Not a lot. It's not particularly sexy, either. I write awkward characters in love and the smut usually reflects that.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Very very rarely. I think the only true crossover I have (where characters from two fandoms interact) is Asami Sato and the Goblet of Fire where Asami is a muggle student at Hogwarts. I still think it's cute but my brain doesn't do crossovers well.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Someone recently asked about this. I hope they do it.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! I've co-written a few fics with @ideklolwat.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? Oh gosh I just don't know I have no idea what I could ever

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? No. I'm determined to finish everything.

16. What are your writing strengths? Practice? I spend a lot of time writing so there's a lot of it. I like to think I learn something.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Oh gosh, everything else. Characters moving through space. Proofreading. Plots. Endings. Kisses.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I've rarely had the occasion to do this since everyone in Avatar seems to speak the same language.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Avatar: Legend of Korra

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? There's no way I can pick a favorite! I don't even think I can pick a top five. I'm my primary audience so all my fics are for me.

Tagging @thatoneguy56fanfic @yell0wsalt @oldandirrelevant @myargalargan @wishingforatypewriter and whoever else wants to consider themselves tagged!

[serendertothesquad]

Seren's Studies: Odd Squad UK -- "Part of the Furniture" Episode Followup, Part 2

Orli's Day: Mk. II shall continue! Don't pop those limbs off being pulled every which way, Orli.

Below the break.

That's the world's most fake plane. Not even an Odd Squad seal on it, so clearly Orwell didn't take OddAir.

Ha...wait, hold up, he's a PILOT???

Since when?! What are his qualifications?! Is he in pilot school? WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING AND WHY WILL WE NOT GET AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS.

Okay, these bits with Ozzie and Terry are actually pretty funny. The man's teaching the kid how to be aggressive, bless his heart.

And Ozzie...Ozzie is trying. He is trying very hard. Cut him some slack.

See? He's trying! He's bound by PBS Kids S&P, but he's trying his best!! Good for him!!!

I just let out the most deflated and saddest moan I've ever let out since Season 3 pulled that shit with "Ahead of the Times". And that had Olaf explicitly be mentioned, whereas I...don't have high hopes for this one.

Oh!! Oh, but it's unique because it involves seconds, ooooooh- shut. Just shut. This is not spicing things up any. SHUTTY-UPPY.

"Oh. Maybe it's fine?"

NO YOU I D I O T THE ROOM IS STILL RED ARE YOU C O L O R B L I N D .

Now, see, if she were green, she'd be dead.

And I am very happy I got to make that reference twice in recent memory.

Putting aside the reused spider-cat animation: if they freak out over this, never let 'em step foot in Precinct 13579. God forbid.

(On a side note: Asha really should have re-recorded her "I should say no more often" line. Tonally, it sounds too scripted.)

*violent coughing*

I'm sorry, but I'm finding it hilarious that there exists a gadget that apparently does agents' jobs for them. Like, you could base the entire fucking franchise around this one gadget. It removes any oddness? Has unlimited ammo? Hell of a Mary Sue!

God...Gemma, honey, what are you smoking?

You can hear the record scratching from where you're sitting. It's like Orli brought a gun to the world's craziest rave.

Or, for a more kid-friendly comparison, it's like that "girls at a party looking at you like you're gross" meme image.

"as usual" W-what??? TF do you mean "as usual"??? You've been fitting in since at LEAST the fourth episode, Orli, and you're pretty much part of the precinct's body. There is no "as usual" AND YOU DAMN WELL KNOW IT.

Having a villain deliver this message is less impactful than when Mr. Sides delivered the falsehood that "your group has no leader" in "Odd Squad in the Shadows".

Only here, it's even stupider. There's still a falsehood, it's just a stupid lesson for being this far into the season. At least "Shadows" was early on, y'know?

Why does someone not know how to put a coaster down after they've poured some TEA???

DISGUSTANG!!

nice agent, even nicer agent

Yep, PBS Kids execs have their dirty-ass hands all over this and I'm about to go RIP UP A FUCKING FENCE, TEAR UP THE YARD, AND GET A DOG TO SHIT ON IT.

Fuck you, genuinely. You tainted something good. Go to hell.

And your credits for this episode. Looks like Celestia's pet bird made an appearance in here...somewhere.

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

Overall, this was a swing and a miss for Gemma. It's basically taking the plot of "Olympia's Day" and sapping out what made it fun -- not just the wild hallucinations and the sanity slippage we saw along the way, but also replacing the character in question with one that has no motive in life. And that's not even getting into the math lesson torn from such episodes as "6:00 to 6:05" and twisted to include seconds like that means anything of merit in terms of uniqueness. It does not. Oh yes, and the whole "nice agent. not-nice agent" thing. It's watered-down preschool stuff. "Good cop bad cop" would have done fine and gotten past censors just like it did all those years ago. It being British, "constable" would have been a better-suited term. "Good constable, bad constable" would have worked. (Likewise, a slang term could have been used -- "bobby" is apparently popular.)

So yeah. No. Throwing this one in the trash too. Sorry, Gemma, but you need to try harder.

Next up will be "The Odd Ness Monster", which I hear is actually pretty good. At this point I'm at the whim of the fandom when it comes to "is this episode good or not?" I don't think I can trust myself to not keep getting disappointed like this.

Seren out!

[dontcallmebree]

20 questions for fic writers

Thanks @voylitscope for tagging me! <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

59! That's more than I thought, honestly.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

490,425. Damn that's so close to half a million. (I need to whip out a short 10k real quick.)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Stucky.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Up Close and Personal

You Like What's in My Head

Not Technically A Bromance

A Blessing I Ain't Tryna Lose

You Like the Way I Look

Two series make multiple appearances here. Can't say I'm surprised, honestly. For a long time my top 5 was all from a single series.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I respond to all of them! Mainly because all I ever want to do after sharing something is to talk about what happens with the characters, so I always jump at the chance to talk with fellow Stucky fans! Another reason of course is also because people are very nice and have actively taken time out of their day to read something I wrote and I wanna say thanks cause it means a lot < 3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Okay I scrolled through my works and was really tickled by the fact that my angsty endings were either because the main character dies (1, 2, 3) or because the main character doesn't die (1, 2, 3) (just dead inside). So pick your poison I guess.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think it might be Winter Weddings and Blushing Brides. That fic just has the fluffiest of fluff endings.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not really? My works feature explicit sex scenes and all but I've yet to write a pwp. It's too hard I think.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No. I think go too far into AUs for this. Would be fun though!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I'm too weird about the writing process and showing anyone (even a co-writer) any unfinished work to do this I think. It seems very scary.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Stucky, of course.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Sooo many wips in my drafts. Maybe part 3 to the never met a man like you before series? I do wanna finish that one day though.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Hmmm maybe character work? That's always my go to answer to this.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Yikes. Run on sentences? Is that too easy of an answer? Do I really have to look into my soul for this?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I'm not sure what thoughts anyone might have on this. Is this a controversial thing? Many languages exist. Human (and non-human) characters speak them. I can't imagine taking issue with this fact of life reflected in fiction.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Uhhh I don't even know. Must've been in some friend's notebook back in grade school before we even knew what a fandom was.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

There are a few that come to mind, but A Man After Midnight just has a very special place in my heart. I think it just has everything I love to read and write about. A complicated history, a somewhat unbalanced dynamic, white collar crime, narrative twists, and an alternate universe.

I'm not sure who has and hasn't done this but tagging if interested! @sparkagrace @gfawkesphoenixchokingonashes @between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place @skarabrae-stone @somanywords

[kny-stardust]

Chapter 12 — Long Awaited Ending

Word Count: 3541

Summary: With your heart back to its rightful place, you found the strength needed to fight and decapitate your first and greatest enemy yet. A decade long tragedy is put to rest thanks to your sword. Now, all that there's to do left is to return home and end a week-long, and a two-year-long, pain and worry.

“Hey, Karaku.” You called him before he left.

He turned to you, making a sound of surprise. It was already late, so you would usually run to Mr. Hantengu's home to spend the little time you still had before bed with your siblings. So, you staying and calling out for him specifically was something new, but he still turned and walked up to you, with his usual relaxed pose.

“Yes, (Y/N). What is it?” He asked casually, but he couldn't understand why you were looking at the floor

“Is it really okay what you said earlier? For me to not harbor negative feelings for the other demons?” You asked him with a low voice. “I mean, I don't like them, but even as killers, I don't feel in my heart any anger or hatred for them. The only exception is the one who attacked my family, but-” You try to continue, but you can't, not after he places his hand over your head and pats it.

“Urogi already said it, didn't he? You're not the violent type, and I can tell you aren't the kind of person who wishes bad for others either, even if they are your enemies.” He said calmly at you.

“But, is it really okay for me to be like this?” You ask him, still feeling unsure.

“Of course it is! After all, that's just who you are! Being anything other than that will actually make you weak!” He said, laughing a bit, leaving you to stare at him in disbelief. “Look. Everyone of us has our temper. I'm the most chill one while Sekido is the hot head one and Urogi is the ‘craziest bitch you will ever meet’ one. It's our nature and that's reflected in which part pf the old man's breathing we learned and use the best. Yours just happens to be different from ours, that's never ‘I don't give two fucks about them’ nor ‘hey, killing them is cool’!” He said, laughing at himself. “You're caring. That's just how you are and you don't need to be nothing different from that. Just be yourself and you'll be at your strongest, okay?”

“Okay! Thanks, Karaku.” You tell him, bowing in gratitude.

“Don't mention it, babe. Just do your best, and you'll be set for life.” He answers.

That memory had played on your mind as you fought (W/N), Karaku's words stuck in your mind. Although you were still angry at her for what she did to them, her very children, blood of her blood, you couldn't hold on to those feelings for long.

Was it really her choice, to become a demon? Or was she turned like it happened to Tanjiro and Nezuko? Was this her true self, or a twisted version of her, thorough the transformation into a demon? Did the solitude and betrayal she experienced play a role on it or this was just her coping mechanism to survive?

Those questions calmed you down by the time you were prepared for the last blow. Your anger wasn't what was driving you any longer. It was your pity.

And then, it was over. You cut her head off and stepped to the side as her body passed by your side, falling limp to the ground. You hear her growling and mumbling something as you put your blade back. You turn to her, looking her in the eyes, making her stop whatever she was saying before. You stared at each other before you make your way to her, kneeling in front of you.

“What is it!? Haven't you humiliated me en-” You don't let her finish, picking her fading head and pulling it into a hug. She stops, not saying anything for a short while, which you take as a chance to open your heart.

“Auntie. No one holds any grudge for you. Not me nor anyone in your family.” You tell her, making her gasp. “I met uncle and your children. I talked to them for long enough to know how they are, how they feel, and I can be sure that they don't resent you. Not one bit.”

“...lies.” She says, half of her head gone. “There's no way they don't resent me... I killed my children... his children... their brothers... There's no way they don't resent me at all...”

“They don't. I'm sure of it.” You tell her. “Because they never spoke ill of you, even when they got countless chances of doing so. Because they didn't kill you, even though I sure they were highly capable of.” You pat her hair-like feathers. “They still love you, and they still miss you to this day.”

“...little one...” She calls you, almost disappearing. “...do you think... they'll ever forgive me... after all I've done...?”

“I don't think. I know so. They'll forgive you.” You let go of the hug holding her head on the same level as your eyes. “So go back to them, your dear ones. They're waiting for you.”

She doesn't say anything back, just letting one single tear fall from her eye onto your haori before she fades away forever. You stay there for a moment, looking at your hands, where even her ashes are fading away as seconds pass. You look back to where her body was, where there was just a mostly ripped kimono laying motionlessly on the dirt. You walk up to it, picking it up and starting to fold it, until something falls to the ground, getting your attention.

It was something round, and heavy, made of a metal, with a thin peeling layer of gold. In the front, you read: “To my beloved (W/N)”. You examine it for a bit, hearing something moving inside. You get shocked when you press something on top and it opens, revealing a clock inside of it. It was a pocket watch. You never saw one, since your family didn’t have enough money to spend in something like that, but you heard others from the village talking about something like this. You touch it to examine it, when you notice something in the back of the cover.

It was a photo, in black and white, with familiar people there. There was a man extremely familiar and a woman by his side, both in traditional clothing. In her arms, there was a wrapped blanket with a small face barely visible. Around them, was four children in the order from the tallest to the shortest. It was your uncle’s family, when Mr. Aizetsu and his brothers were young.

You smile gently at the photo, closing the photo and putting it away, before finishing folding the kimono, burying it and placing a couple of stones on top of it. You do the same to the boy that was killed before you arrived. You don’t see the other one, the one you helped. Maybe he left while you were unconscious?

You sigh, leaving the place. You could only hope for the best for him.

The rest of the week passed in a blur to you. After your battle against (W/N), you didn’t find too much trouble for the remaining of the selection. You stayed up all those nights and barely slept during the day, close to a couple wisteria trees that you found in the mountain. Even then, it wasn’t safe, as you woke up to a oni trying to drag you away from the tree to attack you. Thankfully, your training and years of taking care of your father made you wake up immediately and you slayed the demon.

Other than those two cases, you couldn’t remember any other encounter with any other demon as you lazily made your way back to the foot of the mountain on the dawn of the seventh day. You were tired, but what remained of adrenaline in your veins kept you awake.

You soon arrive at the foot of the mountain, in the same clearing where you started your test. There were four people there already. You recognized the woman who ordered the beginning of the selection, the fading hair boy and the young one too. The last one was…

“(Y/N)!” Ume cried out loud as she ran to your side. “Are you okay? By the gods, you’re bleeding! Does your head hurt? Wait, I have something here to help!” She said all at the same time as she began to search through her bag.

“Ume.” You call her, smiling softly at her . “It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt. I stopped bleeding on the first day. I’m okay.”

“You sure?” She asked, looking back to you.

You nod at her, still smiling. Despite that, she still helped you. Her worry lifted a part of your tiredness and made the rest feel like it was all worth it.

“It seems that everyone is here.” The woman said once the two of you joined the group. “First of all, welcome back and congratulations. I’m glad you made it back safe and sound.”

You can’t help but look around. There were really only the four of you? You remember seeing over twenty people there, but they were all gone. The boy you helped on the first day also wasn’t there. Did he… die? You couldn’t help the sadness creeping into your heart. You didn’t know him, but as someone you helped, you hoped that he would have lived longer.

“So… what happens now?” You hear the youngest of your group ask the woman.

“Gosh. What’s the rush? Can’t you wait for her to explain?” The other boy, the one with the fading hair, asked, seemingly annoyed.

“Yoshino.” The woman calls him out, making him stiff. “Behave.”

“Yes, lady Tamayo.” The boy, Yoshino, replies, his head laying low.

“Well, let us continue.” The woman, Tamayo, said. “You must first pay for the cost of the uniform. Next, you’ll have your body measured and have your rank engraved. There are ten ranks. Mizunoto, Mizunoe, Kanoto, Kanoe, Tsuchinoto, Tsuchinoe, Hinoto, Hinoe, Kinoto and Kinoe. As new slayers, you’re at the lowest level, as Mizunoto.”

“Ms. Tamayo.” Ume asked, raising her hand. “My master said that we would get a weapon of our own. Is it true?”

“Yes. Today, you’ll chose a chunk of Tamahagane alloy, from which your blade will be made of. It should be completed within 10 to 15 days. And, also...” She stopped, blowing a whistle. You looked at her confused before you heard a loud sound coming from the sky. Looking up, you saw a group of crows coming down, one landing on the shoulders of each one of you. “A Kasugai crow will be following you from now on. They are trained and used primarily for communication.”

You look at your crow. Yours was different from the others, as their feathers was white with a black beak. You look at one another, and you slowly reach out to caress them, which they accept, rubbing their head against your cheek.

“Awww! Yours is so cute, (Y/N)!” You hear Ume saying, approaching with her own crow. “Don’t you think so, Kurohime?” She asked, turning to her crow.

“You finally decided to leave home, Shiro?” Kurohime talked, surprising you.

“It-It talked!” You exclaimed surprised.

“Of course they do. How else would we communicate, silly?” She asked you, giggling.

“I… I see.” You actually didn’t, since you didn’t expect that at all. “So… Your name is Shiro?” You asked your crow, who ‘nodded’, but said nothing.

“You can rename them. They are usually named when young, but you can suggest a new name, and if they like it, they stick with it.” Ume says, looking at you expectant.

You turn to your crow, who is looking at you intensely, as if waiting for you to suggest a new name. You stop to think about it, but you were never actually good in naming pets. But then, a name comes to your mind.

“Huh… (C/N)…?” You say it, slowly, worrying if it would sound bad.

“What? (C/N)? Really?” Ume made a pout face, as if she was let down.

“(C/N)… I like it…” Your crow says, surprising you all. “Then, my name shall be (C/N) from now own… Good to see you again… (Y/N)…”

Good to see you again? What did they mean?

“Are you done introducing each other?” Tamayo asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. “If so, please go over there, and choose the alloy that will be used to create your blade. The very same blade that will be used to destroy demons and protect yourself. You must choose it yourselves.”

The four of you walk up the table indicated by Tamayo, where there were a couple of ores on top of it. She didn’t say nothing, and just watched all of you. You can’t help but feel anxious. You never saw an ore before. The closest thing to that was the charcoal you sold at the village.

“How are we supposed to choose?” Ume asks under her breath.

“I have no clue…” The little boy asks.

You turn back to the ore and tries reaching out to one. Your hand hangs over one for a second before you touch it. A shock runs all over your body, making you jump slightly. You don’t know what happened to you, or what made you react that way. You tried taking the ore again, getting no reaction this time, and turned to Tamayo.

“I choose this one...” You tell her.

After you left the Mount Fujisakane, you made your way back to Mount Sagiri. You made the same way back, but a whole week of build-up stress, prolonged fights, poor sleep and eating was certainly taking its tool on you when the adrenaline ran out. You had picked up a wood staff to keep yourself up as you slowly made your way back to the place. The sun was hot, burning your skin, leaving you thirsty and sweating heavily. Your vision was becoming blurred and darkening on the corners as you continued your path.

The only thing that kept you going was returning to your family, to your uncle, to the place you began to call home. You wanted to calm your siblings, who should be worried about your absence, and comfort Rokuta, who should be calling out your name at this point. You wanted to see Nezuko and Tanjiro, to be sure that they were still alive, even if they were still asleep. You wanted to be back as to put your uncle’s worries aside, for he should be fearful of your fate, now that you knew actual reason why he didn’t want you to take on the selection. You wanted to go back to that boulder, to thank Sekido, Karaku and Urogi for their help even after they passed, even if you didn’t get to see them one last time.

These thoughts were what kept you going despite your tiredness. In fact, you were so focused on those thoughts that you unintentionally ignored other people worried questionings and offerings of help. You just wanted to get home.

You didn’t notice the time pass until the sun was mostly hidden on the nearby mountains, lessening the heat on your body. It was only when you became aware of this fact that you recognized that you were close to the village, the same one of the old lady who welcomed you and your family in her home two years ago. The memory brought a tired smile to your lips as you notice a person leaving the village and heading to the path you were in. Despite your blurred vision, you still recognize a familiar patterned black and red kimono.

“Uncle!” You call up to him, using whatever was left of your voice.

Hantengu stops, turning to you, as if he had been called out by a ghost. The very next second, however, he's running towards you at a rapid pace. You try to meet him in the middle, tripping and falling in the middle of it, but he manages to catch you before you reach the ground and pulls you into a bear hug, holding you tightly against his chest.

“You're back... You actually came back!” He said as he hugged you, patting your hair. You hug him back and feel your haori get wet with his tears.

“I'm sorry, uncle. I'm so sorry!” You tell him as you also cry. “I didn't know... I didn't know about Sekido, Karaku and Urogi... I didn't know they were... That auntie had... I'm so sorry!”

“Shhhhh... I know, I know, little one...” He says as he pats your head. “I don't blame you... I'm just glad that you are back, safe and sound.” He says, comforting you. It reminded you of when you were little and went to sleep in your parents' bed because you had a nightmare. Your father patted your head the same way he does.

“Uncle... There's something more...” You say as you pull away from him, reach out for your bag and show it to him.

“Ah! This is...” He pauses before he picks the pocket watch from your hand, his own shaking as if it would crumble to dust by his mere touch. “I see...” He says as he hugs you back. “You must be tired, child. Let's go back. Your siblings have been asking for you the entire week.”

You were so tired at this point that you couldn't even make an answer. You hear him giggle as he adjusts you on his back, letting you lean on him and carrying you carefully. You wanted to sleep, but you simply couldn't. Whenever you closed your eyes, they would just pop open, and not let you sleep. You didn't understand why you were doing this, even though you were dead tired. You tried a couple more times, but you just gave up after failing them. You just laid on your uncle's back, your eyes half closed as you two went back to the house.

By the time you get there, it's already dark, and you still couldn't fall asleep. You were just looking forward until your ears got a sound weird. That sound makes you lift from your uncle's back and also made him stop.

“What was that?” You hear him ask.

His house was close already, but a good thirty meters of distance. You stayed still, your ears trying to capture anything at all. You were hearing your siblings crying about something that you didn't understand. All at the same time.

No.

You get out of your uncle's back and rush to the house, with him right behind you, calling out your name.

Please, gods, heavens!

Not again!

Not this again!

You were almost at the door when the same is sent flying, making you stop to avoid getting hit.

You stand there motionless as someone leaves the house. Your hands, that were gripping tightly to the sword, lost their strength as they recognize the red hair coming out of the house, followed by a long and floating black hair.

“Tanjiro...! Nezuko...! You... You woke up!” You let go of the sword as you fell to your knees in front of them.

They turn to you and they both reach out to you at the same time, hugging you. You hug them back, tightly, crying on their shoulders.

“Why did you fall into a coma like that?!” You questioned them. “Neither of you would wake up! I thought...! I thought you were dead!”

“Wait! Is that you, sis?!” You hear a new voice, that makes you raise your head. You can't help the smile that takes over your lips.

“Sis!” Your smaller siblings cry, running to the three of you, joining the hug.

A soft sigh leaves your lips as you feel your family's warmth, both literally and figuratively. Your siblings were okay. Tanjiro and Nezuko finally woke up. You were home. At the moment, this is all you could ask for.

With the last of your worries put to rest, you close your eyes, giving in to the tiredness that was stuck in your body since that morning. Even as darkness claimed you, you still felt your siblings warm hug and the soft headpats your uncle gave you.