#the empath in me has had quite the day

[spacelazarwolf]

apparently a bunch of ppl on social media are trying to call for a boycott of rick riordan because of this statement in a blog post:

Becky and I are just back from a busy weekend with events at the Boston Book Festival and New York Comic-Con.

Before I get into that, however, some words to acknowledge the ongoing horrors in Israel and Gaza. As many of you may know, I am no longer on social media. My accounts post only updates on my books and related projects. I do not read posts, reply to posts, or share my thoughts about world events on those forums. That doesn’t mean I don’t have strong feelings and reactions. It means I am offline as completely as possible, except for the occasional blog post like this one.

I will say this: Over the last eighteen years, I have received many fan letters from young readers, both Israeli and Palestinian, who often told me that my books helped them escape the fear, grief and anxiety they were dealing with at the time. Some had lost family members to violence. Some were writing while in the distance they could hear explosions, gunfire, and the launching of rockets. They used my books as a way to escape into another world, where the monsters were fictional, and where demigods usually saved the day. While I am always glad that my books can help young readers find joy during difficult times, my heart breaks every time I hear about the things they have to deal with. I am grief-stricken by the horrific events now unfolding, especially because I know that they are part of a long historic pattern that has been robbing too many children of their childhood and perpetuating hatred for far too long.

I am also quite aware that when anyone, myself included, tries to speak about this issue, the reader is waiting to pounce, thinking, “Yes, but whose side are you on?” That is exactly the wrong question. If there are two sides to this issue, those sides are not Palestinian/Israeli or Muslim/Jewish. The two sides are humanitarian and dehumanizing. Dehumanizing has a long evil history. It is appealing and easy to buy into, because humans are tribal animals. We are hardwired to think in terms of ‘us’ versus ‘them.’ We are the real humans, the good guys, the ones with God on our side. Those other people are evil monsters who don’t deserve empathy. Hate mongers have thrived on dehumanizing for as long as there have been humans. It provides them with a purpose, a way to rally support, power, and scapegoats. It is easy to point to atrocities committed by our enemies, while justifying or minimizing the atrocities committed by ourselves or our allies.

Humanitarianism is a much harder sell. It requires us to empathize, to see other groups of people as equally deserving of dignity and quality of life. It requires not always putting ourselves and our needs first. But in the long run, humanitarianism is our only hope. If violence could end violence, if we could put an end to “those other people” once and for all, human history would read very differently than it does.

So yes, I am appalled by the Hamas attacks on Israeli civilians. I am appalled by the suffering of Palestinian civilians in Gaza. Both things can be true. Both things must be true. My thoughts are with all the people who have died, who have lost loved ones, who have had their worlds and their lives shattered, especially the children. More death and violence will not break this cycle, which has been going on for generations. There is no military solution. Even since I first wrote the post, only twenty-four hours ago, the Israeli government’s brutal retaliation against the entire population of Gaza has reached genocidal proportions. This is not only an atrocity. It is folly. Answering misery with misery only creates more fertile ground for extremism, dehumanizing the “other side,” letting hate mongers thrive, stay in power, and reduce us all to our most monstrous impulses. The only real solution is treating each other like equally worthy human beings, and negotiating a peace that allows all parties a chance to live in security and dignity, with hopes for a future that does not include bombs and rockets and gunfire. This means security and support for Israel, yes. It also means a secure Palestine which is allowed to get the international aid and recognition it needs to build a viable state.

Do I think that will happen? Unfortunately, no. Humans are simply too selfish, too ready to blame “the other” for all their problems, too ready to dehumanize, though I also believe, perhaps paradoxically, that most people just want to live their lives in peace and have a chance for their children to have a brighter future. The problem is when we don’t allow other people to have those same hopes and dreams — when it becomes a false choice of us versus them.

What can I do? I will continue to write books that I hope will give young readers some joy. I will resist the urge to demonize entire groups of people. I will call for less violence, not more violence. And when asked whose side I am on, I will tell you I am on the side of humanitarianism.

So with that said, I return to the world of books . . .

honestly, if you have a problem with this statement, it’s probably because he’s talking about you. this is exactly what legitimate activists (as in not just random westerners who share social media posts but on-the-ground activists who are doing real work) have been saying for decades. and i think all this really speaks to just how disconnected a lot of westerners who claim to be pro palestinian are from those activists.

if you can’t read a statement that says “i am on the side of humanitarianism and less violence” without immediately jumping to cancel them, you are the problem being discussed in the above statement.

[canisvesperus]

:D

[nickmarini]

Hello Nick!! Your role in Downfall was so amazing and I love the extreme nuances and choices shown in your role playing.

Can you share any how you used terms like “child”, “son” and “father” when referring to the dawn father? Was it separately characteristics of the same god or more showing perspectives in those moments as the mortal avatar? I am fascinated and it make me scratch my brain thinking of possibilities.

Thank you so much!

#CR Downfall

Thank you for saying that, and great question!

This is a round about answer but a lot of that wordplay came from simply the name. Dawnfather is such a name rich in meaning. Both aspects of it have ties to time and new beginnings.

Dawn is the suns' rise each morning, born anew to herald the coming day. Its consistent return gives mortals the ability to track the weeks, the seasons, and the years. To even learn that the suns' patterns can allow one to divine the seasons takes years of thoughtful study. Dawn dispels the darkness and stimulates natures growth. It’s constantly new and also always constant.

Father. One cannot become a father without time. To be a father, one must have been a child, it is a stage of life that must be reached. It necessitates change and growth as much as the dawn does. A father knows what it is to have been a child, to have been the dawn, and now he watches over it, paving the way for the new. If I’m going to show a different side of the Dawnfather then showing that previous stage of life seemed interesting.

Within his name itself is this story of growth. His was the first light, he fathered the dawn, and he has kept watch through the ages as the keeper the time. Sun, summer, time, agriculture, harvest, he is a hands on god, consistent, dutiful, present, with his hands in the dirt, it is what he knows. To become mortal and not tend to the world is hard for him.

Ayden is young, he is new, he is the Dawn, but not yet the Father. He is an aspect, the Dawnfathers hope sent down to Exandria to aid his siblings. He has more abilities pertaining to agriculture than the sun because that is the Dawnfathers newest domain. He comes late because the Dawnfather wants to wait till the absolute last minute to abandon his post. He has yet to make the journey.

All this to say that I wanted to explicitly show him growing from this experience. Ayden is not the Dawnfather we know…yet, he is the Dawnchild, on his journey. He has not toiled for ages tending to the world. I believe that the Dawnfather pre and post divergence is quite different. I think the divine gate separates him from the hands on nature of his expressed divinity. I think Ayden was a way to show this dawning realization that to be a good father one must empathize with children but also sometimes make the hard decisions for them, something they do not always agree with.

I wanted to play with him being both a part of the greater whole of the Dawnfather, and something seperate. His literal age of 15 means he is not fully formed despite being infused with the divine soul of the Dawnfather. Getting to play with “child” “son” and “father” let me highlight the differences and illuminate the growth that happens during this time of mortal incarnation and explore the inner turmoil with the Dawnfather himself as his various aspects interact with one another.

There is also precedent in some belief systems of Sun gods birthing themselves or being replaced by their own mortal incarnations. I think for a diety that rises anew each day it’s natural to associate imagery of rebirth or the journey of child to father.

And lastly I think it shouldn’t be overstated how much effect the Everlight and Trist had on Ayden. Nearly half of his levels are devoted to her. I think that sort of reinforces his mortal shell in a unique way and gives him the opportunity to be two things at once more fully.

[eviesaurusrex]

Escaping | Azriel x High Fae

summary: Azriel carries his mate off to a much-needed picnic, away from her duties at the Court of Dreams.

word counter: 3.2k

warnings: none, pure fluff, Az being a simp for his woman, mentions of reader being an empath/reader having empathic abilities, Az’s pet names being always accompanied by “my” (bc he needs to remind himself constantly that she’s indeed his), reader is part of the Night Court ever since

author’s note: This is also my first time writing anything for ACOTAR, so please be gentle with me, but I just had to, okay? Az deserves every ounce of happiness I can offer him. Also: This is my first time writing and uploding anything in a minute, so this is definitely not perfect

Dividers are made by @enchanthings and @sweetmelodygraphics <3

He had planned this little escape for weeks now, always trying to find the perfect moment to whisk his mate away between duties and obligations, only to grant her and himself a much-needed break from quite literally everything. His shadows had been restless ever since, just as their wielder, the growing stress and frustration traveling along their strong mating bond only a figment of an indication of how she grew to feel every morning she awoke to tend to the court and their cause to protect and free Prythian in the War looming on the horizon.

And today had been finally the perfect day—due to Rhys’ helping hand after he had seen the growing and building anxiety of his brother.

“Is it not strange how adamant Rhys has acted earlier? I think it’s weird. Do you think I should go and check up on him later? Maybe trying to ease his mind? I think I should.” Her sweet, melodic voice filled the warm air, and a rare chuckle escaped the spymaster at her fast-working mind. Gently, he took the blanket out of her arms, placing it over the arm that already carried the basket filled with all her favorites, and tenderly, his free arm found its home around her waist, pulling her closer to his side.

A perfect fit. It was as if the Mother and the Cauldron had molded them to fit just as perfectly as two puzzle pieces. Made for one another… He still couldn’t grasp how his lifelong wish had been answered and granted after so many centuries.

Azriel’s head dipped to press a lingering kiss to her temple, his nose slightly buried in her soft strands, the soothing scent overpowering the scents wafting around them. “Will you scold me if I tell you how I asked him to give us at least today to ourselves?” His voice was soft, tender, a loving and humored edge to it. Hazel eyes began to twinkle as she looked up at him, meeting his gaze, not surprised in the slightest at his revelation, and the teasing twinkle in her eyes in return made his lips twitch into a smile. “Did you now?” She teased and nudged his side, tickling Az because she knew of every existing weak spot—the only person aside from Cassian and Rhys. Her growing smile made him feel light, free, and still, it was the most exhilarating thing he had ever achieved in his long life; felt as if his heart might explode any second when she turned and stretched slightly to press a kiss to his jawline. Reaching further wasn’t possible with the towering male walking beside her. “Thank you, my love.” Only a whisper, but loud enough to travel to his ears, accompanied by the warm and fuzzy feeling sent down the bond by her.

Another pull with the arm around her waist put her even closer—if that was even possible—and Azriel couldn’t hold back the urge within him to kiss her soft lips he had already kissed so often ever since they had accepted their mating bond. Still, it wasn’t often enough, in his opinion. Giving in, the shadowsinger stopped their path in the hidden passageway towards the lush green rolling hills along the coast of Velaris and slowly bent his body, letting their noses run alongside one another. “Nothing to thank me for, my darling,” he hummed, lips almost already touching in the softest of kisses, and he felt her fingers run through the short hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to her and letting their lips melt into one. Neither he nor she could tell where the kiss started and where it ended, where his lips began and hers ended.

The low rumble of her stomach put a pause to their antics, and Az hummed once again before entwining their fingers and continued on their path. “Let’s find a place where we can ease that growl, my darling.”

Wildflowers of all kinds surrounded the place they had finally settled on—the glittering ocean right next to them, the rolling green hills as far as sight could reach, and Velaris in the close distance, beautiful as it had always been. Az had made himself comfortable on the blanket, the picnic basket opened right next to him, his body propped up on his forearms, and his eyes followed his mate as she strolled through the flowers. He could see her fingertips gracing the soft petals that stretched their colorful heads towards the sun, his shadows slowly, almost lazily winding around her wrist and fingers, always keeping her company, making sure she was alright. Not that Azriel minded their own ways, but sometimes he suspected they might abandon him entirely for her if they had the chance—and the shadowsinger couldn’t blame them either. He would do the same if it meant being at her side at all times.

“Eat at least a bite,” he now called over to her as she picked the first flower. She only spared a quick glance at him, but her radiant smile couldn’t fool him, nor could it hide the roll of her eyes. “Yes, yes. Only a minute, love.” Azriel himself rolled his eyes now, but the tuck at his lips was too strong to withstand it. Not when they were alone, not when she was the cause of that rare smile sneaking its way onto his face.

So, he watched her while already eating some of the fresh berries, patiently waiting, eyes moving when she moved toward the next flower in full bloom, bending down to pick her, placing the delicate thing in the soft embrace of her arm he knew wouldn’t dare crush her new possession. She wasn’t violent or cruel to beings who couldn’t defend themselves, who didn’t possess a single malicious thought in their entire body. And even for those who might commit evil deeds, she still held compassion if necessary. By the Cauldron, she even had accepted him from the very beginning of their friendship all those centuries ago when Rhys had brought her into the Court of Dreams, right after the War had been won.

A sigh left him when she finally strolled toward him in her pretty flowy dress, hair flowing in the warm breeze, her smile growing the closer she got to him. “What am I supposed to do with you, hm?” Az had pushed himself from his arms into a sitting position, legs slightly crossed, an arm resting on his muscular thigh, while the other reached for her, enveloping her fingers as she sank onto the blanket and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. The sound of his wings stretching and rustling behind him accompanied her adorable chuckle, and he almost melted at the sight of her shining eyes when she pressed his scarred palm against her cheek, her lips leaving a warm mark on it, letting him forget about the pain of the past in an instant.

She had that power over him.

“Az, you had more than four centuries to get used to my antics.” Grinning, her lips pressed another set of kisses to his palm before letting his hand sink onto her knee, where it immediately started to wander and found its place on her thigh, squeezing it tenderly. “I should know by now, you mean?” A nod followed his question, grin still prominent on her lips, but he felt her concentration slip toward the many flowers she had sprayed over the blanket in front of her, and her soft and delicate fingers had already started to weave some of them together. “Perhaps even a lifetime isn’t long enough,” he dared to hum and tease, moving closer toward her side and holding a strawberry in front of her lips. The tip of Azriel’s nose nudged her temple, and she took a bite, sighing in satisfaction. “Perhaps.” The sweet berry muffled her words, and without thinking or even considering he was prepared for it, the woman scooted closer and leaned backward, pressing her back against her mate’s strong chest—because he had been ready. He was always ready and always there if she needed or craved anything.

Even though the bond had taken its sweet time before it had finally snapped into place, they had been close from the beginning, a mutual feeling of closeness and understanding the root and foundation of their slowly blooming friendship. And over the decades and centuries, they had started to learn to know one another. Now, with the bond in its rightful place, it all was merely heightened; no longer a want to fulfill anything they wished for, but an urging need. So Az just knew without thinking when she needed his arms wrapped tightly around her body, his chest pressing against her back like a steadfast wall in a sea of uncertainty and fear.

His chin rested on her right shoulder, the strong and powerful wings softly tucked behind his back, granting the sunlight to kiss and warm her skin while she weaved flower after flower in a steadily growing circle.

“When all of this is over…” The soft voice of his mate traveled alongside the warm breeze. “When all is over, I’d like to leave for a while. Just… the two of us. Somewhere enjoying life itself, forgetting about War, bloodshed, and intrigues. Healing and growing,” she continued even softer, reminding him once again of her calm and peaceful nature, and Azriel felt how she longed for all those things after everything that had happened in the past fifty years. He didn’t dare to think about all that had happened Under the Mountain when she had been forced to live there, didn’t try to recollect everything she had shared with him in those days after Rhys and she had finally returned to Velaris.

All that was important was the exploding sensation of relief since she had followed Rhys over the threshold in the House of Wind, stepping out of the shadow of his broad back and came running right to him. That immaculate sensation had been his companion since that day.

Burrowing his face into the warm crook of her neck, the spymaster released a deep breath. “Whatever you wish, my darling,” he whispered against her skin, making her giggle and squirm in his grasp. “Az! Stop it, or my flower crown will be ruined!” He hid the growing smirk against her skin and nipped at one of her weak spots, making it tickle once more. “They always turn out beautiful.” Azriel could practically feel the playful roll of her eyes at his words, and dutifully, he picked the next flower for her to weave into the growing circle before a small lemon tart found its way to her lips, reminding his mate that they indeed had something else in mind when they had left the House of Wind earlier.

The deep, soft sighing after the first bite of the masterfully baked tart warmed his heart, and Azriel didn’t object in the slightest when the small cake was eaten within a heartbeat, her sweet tooth demanding even more after weeks of relinquishment because they had all been so busy with the preparations for the meeting with Prythian’s High Lords.

“Another one?” He whispered quietly as the shadows now surrounded their legs, resting like they did. “Do we have one of these tiny strawberry cakes we had for Starfall?” Immediately, the memory of the last festivities occupied his mind as he looked for the mentioned dessert and presented it to her like an offering to the gods in his open, scarred palm. “My Lady.” She chuckled at that and abandoned the almost finished flower crown with a gentle “Thank you, my Lord,” only to take the delicate cake and took a savoring bite out of it.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you looked at Starfall? More radiant as the stars…” Az’s voice trailed off into the distance, pictures of that night clouding his mind once again. As she turned her head to look at him with that one smile entirely reserved for his eyes, he pulled back and let her kiss his lips in a heart-wrenchingly soft kiss. “You told me that countless times, my love. Especially when you see the dress hanging in the armoire.” She grinned at that, making him almost blush. “But do I need to remind you how handsome and dashing you looked that night? All those ladies turning and twisting their heads as soon as you walked through the room…” Even though she knew that no one could take her mate, the bitter feeling of jealousy boiled in her blood for just a second before it vanished at the glowing and warm, but also shadowy feeling of their bond, reminding her once again that they were bound for the rest of their existence.

“No need to be jealous, my darling. There was never anyone but you, and there will never be anyone but you.”

His index finger under her chin moved her face upward to face him, skin touching skin and lips brushing over even softer lips. “I know,” she whispered against Azriel, and for a moment, she leaned her forehead against the strong line of his jaw, feeling him pressing a tender kiss on her hairline.

A rumble in the far-off distance let them look up at last, and both watched the building and rolling clouds over the sea, knowing that rain was a mere thought away. But still, they took their time.

Az continued to feed them both, watching her tirelessly weaving flower after flower into the crown, humming a tune they had danced to countless times by now and savoring the warmth radiating off his body. “Another one for Elain?” Azriel dared to ask as she seemed to be done. All the flowers she had gathered were woven into a beautiful, intricate pattern, and none were wasted. His mate had started to bring Elain flowers and plants in all their forms, especially ones only growing in their lands and not behind the wall, explaining their nature, natural habitats, uses, and sometimes hidden beauty. She was so soft and gentle with the young female that Azriel had to ask himself—more often than not, if he was honest—if she would be like this to their children if they ever were allowed that sort of happiness.

He let her sit up and turn onto her knees, holding the crown in her delicate fingers. She shook her head, an unsure smile now surfacing on her lips, as she softly placed it on top of his dark hair. “I never made one for you, my love.” He was stunned, not daring to move nor touch the petals now resting on his head. “You don’t have to keep it, of course. If you don’t like it, I can just bring it to Elain, and we’ll forget about it. It’s silly anywa-” He stopped her right then and there by pulling her close and kissing her fiercely, only holding himself back from roaring down their bond and scaring the living daylights out of her. He took great pride in the fact how breathless his mate was when Az finally ended the kiss, how gleaming her eyes were when she looked at him, how the blush that had crept to her cheeks made them glow, how her fingers gripped the fabric over his chest to steady herself. “Don’t you dare take it,” he growled and kissed her once more, shorter this time, less desperate, and still tickled those delicious sounds out of her body he still kept reveling in, even after all this time.

The first drop falling from the heavens made them part, and while she started to collect their things to pack them safely into the basket and fold the picnic blanket, Azriel spread his wings to protect his mate from the mighty raindrops. When they were ready to winnow to the barriers of the House of Wind, the summer downpour had already picked up its intensity and soaked the two from head to toe. However, their laughter still lingered over their sacred space of Velaris even after they winnowed away.

Feyre’s brows creased in worry as she looked out the many windows in the palace atop the mountain, overlooking Velaris during the downpour that had been foreseen. The heavy drops splattered against the glass, making it difficult to discern any shape moving in the distance. She knew the rain wouldn’t harm them, but the thunderstorm rolling over the hills induced an anxiety within her that she could barely contain.

“Feyre, darling?”

Rhys’ voice let her spin away from the windows, facing her mate who had stood from his desk he had worked on for the past couple of hours, and walked closer toward her, worry furrowing his forehead. “What is wrong?” He wrapped his strong arms around her body, and the High Lady sighed deeply as she sank into the embrace. “Nothing, I…” The first roaring thunder let her pause for a moment. “Az and YN haven’t returned yet.” Violet eyes gazed out of the window, brows slightly furrowed in concentration as he tried to make out the shapes in the gloomy light of the early evening.

Then, a smile spread across his handsome face, and Feyre turned to see what had happened. “They are now. Come, my love,” the High Lord coaxed his mate toward the door to meet the pair down the hall to greet them. She followed him without hesitation, needing to see for herself that both her friends returned without harm, and had to know if they enjoyed their afternoon, needing all the raunchy details YN would spill over a glass of faery wine and a warm fire.

They only made it atop the stairwell leading down into the hall that housed the balcony primarily used to enter the House of Wind, and the pair watched a dripping YN pulling a not-less-dripping Azriel inside, a laugh dancing on her lips.

The Illyrian shook the rain off his shoulders and wings, eyes entirely focused on the brightly smiling High Fae before him. Without a thought, he let the basket drop to the floor, not sparing a single second for its whereabouts after because his entire being narrowed down to the bond beating in his chest, demanding intimacy, closeness, with the female he desired and loved more than life itself. A shriek escaped YN between laughter as Az playfully pounced on her, wrapping her in his strong arms and lifting her off the ground in one smooth motion, moaning deep in his throat at the first taste of her lips drenched in rain droplets.

As he carried her down the hall toward their shared bedchambers in long, purposeful strides, flower crown still proudly atop his head, YN laughed: “Az, the basket!” The pair above the stairs could only hear him say, “It can wait until I’m drunk and delirious on you,” before a door closed, and Feyre finally allowed the giggle to escape her she had held onto for so long.

Rhys shook his head with a humored grin, pulling the female next to him closer to his chest. “My spymaster wearing a flower crown? I won’t ever let him forget it,” he chuckled deeply, amusement and happiness dancing across his face, especially as Feyre hit his chest in warning. “Don’t you dare tease him about it!” The male grinned at that, pulling her face toward him, and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips. “I can’t make such promises, Feyre darling unless you are interested in a little deal with your beloved mate.”

Now, it was her turn to let a laugh freely echo through the halls.

Thank you everyone for reading! As usual: I'd love to read your thoughts and comments, perhaps you have an idea for a future Azriel - or any ACOTAR character - fanfiction you'd want me to write. Also, likes and reblogs are very much appreciated! <3

[vaaaaaiolet]

When you call Leon late one night, he knows something's up with his best friend and mission partner of two years. You're breaking down and your shitty on-and-off boyfriend's nowhere to be found, but that's not Leon's business. He's just supposed to be a shoulder for you to cry on.

But Leon's not very good at staying out of business concerning you. Feelings get involved, and he finds out he has quite a sticky finger when it comes to phone calls.

f / m, friends / partners to lovers, angst + fluff w/ hurt + comfort, mutual pining, mild?? safe sex, phone sex w/ a twist, tw: shitty bf that's not leon but no cheating i don't condone cheating, porn w/ feelings + some semblance of a plot. oh, and happy ending :) mdni.

word count: 2.7k // read on ao3

a/n: YAY GRACIE ABRAMS RELEASED CLOSE TO YOU!! idk what happened with this fic LMAO it just got way out of hand. i’m also working on "and they were roommates!"; it's my summer goal to finish that series (you can really tell how employed i am). also if you catch the touch tank lyric, i <3 u

The phone on Leon’s nightstand buzzed impatiently the way demanding, intrusive phone calls do at 1 AM on weeknights. Jesus Christ. No one called him this late at night, nobody except his favorite mission partner who only had burning questions for him the minute the clock struck midnight.

In other words, you.

He ran a hand through his bedhead, picking up your call with half a mind to tell you off for real this time before his ears met wracking sobs. The snark sublimated off Leon’s tongue. 

“Hey, hey, is everything alright? What’s going on?” his voice rose steadily in pitch the more you cried. Worry thumped in his bare chest as he sat up on his knees, “Where are you?”

“Home, I’m at home, I- Leon, he’s with her, I don’t know what to do!” You sounded like you were drowning the way your words spilled out, punctuated with gasps for air. “He turned his phone off, and his-his friends said he wasn’t with them at the bar…” you hiccuped, “and I have the worst gut feeling, it feels like-” 

His stomach twisted as you heaved for breath. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.” 

Leon’s mind whirled. He knew, to his incredible unenthusiasm, that you’d been in an on-and-off relationship for the past two years. You couldn’t let go of your boyfriend from your training days. You’d sip apologetically from your drink and wave away Leon’s scolding each time you got left in the dust, only to bounce back the moment your boyfriend promised to do better. 

You’d been his saving grace in the field more times than he could count, and it was only because of his own woman in red that Leon could empathize where others rolled their eyes at you. You and him were the same. The only difference is that he’d given up on this part of life entirely while you clung tight. Leon had gone his separate way while you pined at the crossroads. 

But he was a selfish bastard, and he was a bit like you, too. Same coin. He gave you his shoulder to cry on and couldn’t help absorbing a bit of the blame for your needy heart.

“Stay right there.” Leon murmured, forcing his anger at your definitely cheating boyfriend into something softer for you to land on, "I'm coming right now, I'll pick you up and we'll talk about it."

“Don’t, Leon, it’s late. I just called to…God, I don’t even know. You have work tomorrow.” 

“First time you’ve been concerned about my work, calling this late at night.” he chuckled, interrupting your budding apology, silver keys jangling in his pockets. “Don’t worry about it. Pretend I’m already there. I got you.” 

You laughed through your sniffles, “Stubborn ass.”

His heart lurched. “Have to be one. I can’t have you thinking you can call me crying and I’d do nothing about it.”

The snow whipped at his windshield when he pulled into your driveway. Who the hell went clubbing on a work night at 1 AM, Leon didn’t know, but as he killed his car’s headlights, he figured your boyfriend was just the kind of good-for-nothing to pull it off. He stuck his hands in his pockets and trudged to your front door.

You cracked the door open after two knocks, just enough for him to slip into your dark entryway. Leon frowned in the darkness as he let you pull him by the arm into your living room where a few tea candles flickered on your coffee table. They littered its glass surface along with a few tissues. 

“I'm sorry about the dark,” you wiped your eyes with a sleeve, “Sorry about everything, really.”

If he’d lifted your mood before he’d cut the call, he didn’t have a clue now. You looked so small, drowning in a long-sleeve shirt and pajama shorts, socked feet fiddling with a crack in the floor as Leon sat you on your couch. 

He couldn’t think. He just enveloped you in a hug as fresh tears threatened to spill over your lashes. "No. We're not doing 'I'm sorry,' alright? You have nothing to be sorry for." He gave you one more squeeze before popping the million dollar questions: "What happened? What did he do? Tell me everything." 

You crumpled into his chest. “You were right, you’re always right, Leon. God, why don’t I ever learn? What’s wrong with me?”

I’ve never wanted to be more wrong in my life. Tell me no like you always do.

“He’s been angry.” You mumbled, “Secretive, defensive…he bought jewelry that I only know about from the receipts.”

“…how long?” 

Leon wanted to fix this. Make your should-be ex pay. Hunnigan could always deal with the fallout later. She’d wipe your boyfriend’s existence off the face of the planet if he asked. Nicely. Hopefully. 

“I didn’t want to disappoint you.” You lifted your head to meet his gaze and all he could do was watch tears glimmering in those eyes he knew so well. “I didn’t want to tell you he’s been like this for a month…to be honest, I didn’t care.”

Leon’s brain wasn’t catching up as you continued, “I just didn’t want to disappoint you.”

He raised an eyebrow. 

"Disappoint me?" Leon repeated. "Sweetheart, you would never disappoint me. You're my best friend, alright?" Damn, he’d pulled out the double-edged sword, but this way, he could get you to listen. The tingly feeling was back. "Look at me."

He cupped your chin in his hand. Studied your face. 

"Why would you ever think that?" 

“…because you said he wasn’t good for me,” you choked out, words tumbling from your lips the more you gained momentum. “Because I know how it feels to be loved because you treat me like that and he doesn’t, he never did, he-”

You stopped yourself with a shaky breath, blinking up at him like a deer in headlights because there it was. 

Here you both were.

The one line you were both afraid to cross. The line between friends and everything more.

Your hands flew up to his chest, flitting from the soaked fabric of his open shirt to cover your face as you backtracked hard. “I’d make everything complicated. You don’t need that, neither of us do with this job – you don’t need me to mess up the stability you have in your life. I’m supposed to make things easier for you, like an actual friend, and instead I just cause trouble. I drag you into my mess.”

Leon could roll his eyes right about now. Said the girl who watched his back at every turn. Saved him limbs and further replacements for said limbs. The girl who started breaking him out of his shell with laughter and light the minute she stepped into his life like a hurricane, after losing Luis and the shock of Krauser’s betrayal shut Leon further into the abyss. You were the chief reason he’d stopped chasing Ada like a lovesick puppy and started seeing her as an advantage in the field instead. And you as something more.

You filled his life with so much to look forward to that he simply didn’t have the time to let the negativity in. So it was only right that he cut you off, sealing his mouth to yours to even the exchange. An eye for an eye – heart for a heart.

"There." Leon breathed out after what felt like an eternity, heat rushing to his face. "Am I messing up your life yet?"

The broken pieces of your heart kicked up like the snowstorm outside the moment Leon’s lips touched yours. The breath knocked out of you as he lifted your chin ever so gently with just a finger, your head reeling to keep pace: Leon. Here. Kissing. Kissing you.  

Is he messing up your life yet? Oh, baby boy.

“You could never.” 

A stupid, giddy smile threatened to split your face in half as your heart beat double time.

“...but I’d let you if you wanted.”

“Then let me, sweetheart,” Leon practically begged, his ocean eyes searching yours.

“I’ll stop if you say the word.”

His calloused fingers tucked your hair behind your ear as he leaned in again, drawing a beautiful gasp out of you as his tongue brushed the seam of your lips. You let him in, tilting your head, nose almost bumping his the way you chased him after he let go, everything that was suddenly too much now not enough. Leon’s heart kicked gleefully.

He hooked his hands under your thighs as he pulled you onto his lap. The strength he’d built up from his missions finally came to good use.

You blinked up at him, hungrily, pleadingly. “I do want something more. More than what we’ve got.”

“The sentiment’s mutual.” 

Leon took advantage of the fact you hadn’t done a single thing to stop him so far, purring sweet nothings into your ear as he began nipping at your neck to coax out more delicious sounds. He could play you like an instrument in the hands of Juilliard graduate; make you sing with a touch.

“Leon…I was scared. Terrified. Didn’t want to- didn’t want to lose you if I came clean.” 

You let his hands slip under your shirt to palm at your breasts, followed by profuse thanks in the form of tender touches everywhere else he could reach. Sweet girl, melting like snow on his tongue. He flipped you onto your back as you reached for him, trailing kisses down your neck as he eased your shorts down the minute you nodded yes. Feverishly. 

Maybe the warmth of your walls sucking in his fingers was what he needed to piece together why you kept going back to your shitty boyfriend when what you wanted was Leon.

You were distracting yourself. 

It was all so stupid.

“You’re never going to lose me,” he groaned; pressed a kiss onto your inner thigh, his hand locking onto your knee to keep it from twitching as you arched with every pass of his thumb over your tiny bundle of nerves. “I can’t even believe I let you keep this up for so long. Shit!”

It was devastatingly easy to bring you to climax. He followed the angle of your back arching at his touch like a step-by-step guide as he gave you one last kiss, right over your soaked entrance, and rose from his knees to sit your trembling body back up. Leon murmured for you to reach for the wallet in his back pocket, and you laughed breathlessly as you fished out a condom, kissing the corner of the lopsided grin he shot you. Angel. 

That’s one more name he’d been itching to call you.

“Let me keep you, angel. I’ll treat you right. You know that already, don’t you?” Leon kissed the top of your head, rolling on the rubber as you straddled his lap with shaky legs. His hands easily spanned the curve of your hips as you bit your lip. He didn’t want to hurt you any more than you already had been. 

“I’ll be gentle,” he murmured.

“You want to be gentle with me?” you repeated, smiling.

Fair enough question. Leon blew apart bioweapons for a living. But he could be gentle when he wanted to be.

He couldn’t help but smile back. “Yeah. Wanna take my time with you, sweet girl.”

Leon kissed you one last time before painstakingly, slowly, lowering you on his length. Really, it was because he wanted to hear you whimper his name all the more. You’re beautiful. Gorgeous. Your cries filtered into his ears sweeter than birdsong. Oh, he was going to make sure you forgot your boyfriend ever existed. You were all inviting warmth, plush walls and silk, but Leon barely had time to suck in a breath at the spectacular fit of you on his cock because of the infuriating trill of your phone’s ringtone breaking the blessed silence.

“Shut it up, Leon, I don’t wanna hear- oh shit! Oh my god,” your frustrated expression morphs into one of shock as he flips the screen to reveal your soon-to-be ex’s caller ID, “Hang up, baby.”

Leon wanted to listen so badly. You even called him baby.

“Leon!”

“Sweetheart, you said you wanted me to mess up your life? We’re starting now.”

Your eyes flew wide open as he pecked your forehead and tapped the “answer” button, bucking his hips up just enough for you to moan out loud. Your saucer eyes fixed on the phone on the coffee table; your ex just got greeted with the most salacious sound you’d ever made in your life.

“Babe, what the hell?” went the tinny male voice, “Are you…okay?”

You were okay, alright. Leon was making sure of that. One more kiss to your jaw and you were whining right into his mouth. It was just too bad the phone couldn’t pick up the way your fingers tangled themselves into his hair, but Leon was confident your mewls made it through.

“I’ll apologize later, I promise, just let me do this for you.” he whispered, angling you so he’d hit that spongy patch of nerves deep inside. You promptly dissolved into tears. Good ones this time, begging him for just a little more, doing anything to trigger that switch.

Your soon-to-be ex, however, meanwhile resorted to shouting any insult he could think of from what sounded like the inside of his car. Frankly, it was killing the mood. 

“Hey, buddy?” Leon called out as you teetered on the brink of euphoria. “It’s fine. I’ve got her.”

The noise of your ex’s muffled surprise almost made you get up in alarm, but Leon wasn't about to have this moment taken away so soon. Now, it was a matter of satisfaction for him as your ex blustered, "I'm sorry, am I hearing this right? You've got her? Who the hell are you?"

“I’m Leon. You don’t know me?” 

“I don’t know any- wait. You work with her, don’t you?” 

Leon hummed agreeably, focusing his attention on making the phone an afterthought for you as you chased your high. “Maybe. I’m just doing what you couldn’t for the past two years, you know.”

“You bitch. You’re cheating on me with a coworker? Are you fucking serious? Unbelievable…you…I’m on my way. You two fuckers better be there, I swear to God, I’m going to ab-”

Leon tutted impatiently, pressing into your clit to hurtle you over the edge and drown out the tirade with your much more listen-worthy wails of pleasure. The phone call ended, without Leon’s help, only a few seconds after the last of your cries finished echoing in the living room. 

“Oops. Think we touched a nerve, sweetheart?” he chuckled, easing you off him as he swiped a tissue to clean you up. 

You glowered up at him – shit – only to break into an incredulous grin. His heart was mere inches from falling off a precipice. Good God, woman.

“You’re crazy.” you giggled.

“Yeah? And you want me anyway.”

“Love you, anyway.” 

He grinned. 

Leon didn’t stop you from slamming the front door in your now-ex’s face (oh, how he savored saying that). He also didn’t stop you from jumping into his arms the second your ex’s car pulled out of your driveway, your bulletproof breakup face traded for the smile he’d once tried to convince himself he wasn’t in love with.

Your voice was ecstatic. "I can't believe I just did that. Oh my god, I just did that!" 

"Wasn't that fun?" he laughed.

"Really fun." 

You got up on your tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. "You know, ever since I gave you permission to ruin my life, Leon, you've been doing the exact opposite," you mused, your fingers playfully catching on the hem of his shirt. 

“I plan on keeping that promise, baby. I didn’t even have to ruin your life for you to fall in love with me.”

You arched a know-it-all eyebrow.

“Okay, okay! Maybe a little bit.” he conceded, warmth erupting in his chest. 

Yeah. If this counted as ruining your life, Leon was just fine with no rest for the wicked.

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[reblive]

An except from Eric’s journal that i’ve thought about often as of lately. I have no place to put my thought so I will speak on here. No intent for discourse, I just have no outlet to speak on this matter. If this is not the space for you, just don’t read it. I don’t really care to hear anything.

“Society may not realize what is happening but I have; you go to school, to get used to studying and learning how youre "supposed to" so that drains or filters out a little bit of human nature. but thats after your parents taught you whats right and wrong even though you may think differently, you still must to have more of your human nature blown out of your ass. society trys to make everyone act the same by burying all human nature and instincts. Thats what school, laws, jobs, and parents do If they realize it or not and them, the few who stick to their natural instincts are casted out as psychos or lunatics or strangers or just plain different. crazy, strange, weird, wild, these words are not bad or degrading.. if humans were let to live how we would naturaly it would be chaos and anarchy and the human race wouldnt probably last that long, but hey guess what, thats how its supposed to be!!!!! society and goverments are only created to have order and calmness, which is exactly the opposite of pure human nature. take away all your laws and morals and just see what you can do. if the goverment was one entity it would be thinking "hey, lets make some order here and calm these crazy fucks down so we can be constructive and fight other goverments in our own little so called self created "civilizied world" and get rid of all those damn insticts everyone has" well shit I'm to tired wright anymor tonight, so until next time, fuck you all”

In some way in pains me to see the way he felt about the world and the wrong doings of those around him. If you take a second to sit and read what he’s saying it’s like part of his authenticity comes out and then transitions back to switching to speak to the audience and how he wanted to be seen. I can’t always articulate in words the feelings I get when I think about him but it’s genuinely always painful. He was so hurt, and described his pain, but still shadowed his true feelings of distress for the audience. He cared about what other people thought about him even in his writings, and it’s so disheartening that he was that broken and plague by the environment he was in. I take time to consider how people cannot feel empathy for him and I understand it due to the situation at hand (obviously) however, considering how he was 17 years old writing this, he was just a kid. He was once how we all once were, innocent and compelled to continue on the paths of our lives the way that the nature of society intended us to. It really goes to show how fucked up he had it. This draws me back to the butterfly effect, was there one decision by himself, or inflicted upon him by others that brought him to where he ended his life? Empathy is a theme he seems to disregard in his journal entries, and quite frankly, all of media and the world deems him as un empathetic because of his writings. We didn’t know how he thought of himself in his head, we didn’t know the guilt, destruction, and true pain he went through that was genuine. I find this a reason why there is much more weight put onto him within his person. “It’s only a tragedy if you think it is, and then it’s only a tragedy in your own mind.” (7/29/98) I suppose this is how we all (who empathize with E&D) feel and can relate to.

Thinking too much about his pain these days and what he once was and how he became what he was. Being truthful and honest are two different things. Being truthful, factual, what he did was terrible. Being honest, feelings, I have so much pain in my heart for how he was feeling. There’s nothing anyone can do now (whom empathize)

[claudemblems]

A Kiss to End All Doubt | Albert Moriarty

Summary: When you agreed to tag along with the Moriarty brothers to a grand ball, the last thing you expected was to receive a noble's offer of marriage. Thankfully, Albert plays the part of your lover well, perhaps a little too well for his affectionate words to be fake...

Content: SFW. Fem!Reader. 3,723 words. Pining. Soooo much romantic tension. Albert is a flirt and no one is surprised.

Notes: I have been writing this fic for what feels like forever BUT IT'S FINALLY FINISHED :3 I'm so excited to finally give this to you. I hope you enjoy it 💖 I may also add an epilogue if there's an interest for one...🤭

Did Albert Moriarty, one of the many faces of the Lord of Crime, truly not have the slightest idea of the effect he had on you?

It was silly to even fathom that a man of his stature could be so oblivious, but you couldn’t help but start to wonder once he started giving your flushed cheeks and wide eyes a quizzical look.

That, or he was playing coy with you, which wouldn’t be all that surprising coming from him. He’d long since mastered the art of making noble ladies go weak in the knees.

But that was a skill he’d acquired out of pure necessity. If he had things his way, he’d refuse to give the stuck up women of the nobility the time of day. Unfortunately, he had a role to play in all of his brother’s plans, and so he continued flirting with the noble ladies just long enough to leave them wanting more.

You, on the other hand, were no noble. In fact, you had no good fortune, distinguished education, or marriageable prospects to speak of. Truly, you were nothing but a mere face hidden amongst the shadows, which was perfect for an assistant to the Lord of Crime.

You’d begun to empathize with Albert’s disdain for these royal functions, mainly the lavish balls he and his brothers had little choice but to attend. It was important for them to keep up appearances as a well-rounded noble family who knew how to mingle with the upper-class, whether they enjoyed doing so or not. While they seemed to have gotten used to it for the most part, it proved to be quite the difficult adjustment for you. Thankfully, Albert had patiently taught you the ins and outs of noble life, giving you lessons on small talk and etiquette whenever time permitted.

However, he hadn’t yet taught you how to handle a nobleman’s advances.

“You must be Lady [Name],” the man greeted, holding out his hand for you to take. You briefly glanced towards Albert, taking his nod as a sign to follow through with the gesture. A kiss was placed onto your hand before the man let go, stepping back to better admire the exquisite sights around him. “It’s quite a splendid ball, isn’t it? There’s so many well-mannered and intelligent guests in our midst, such as you, young Lord Albert.”

“Lord Darnley, you are far too kind,” Albert said, placing a hand over his heart and bowing. “I ought to be extending the compliments to you. Your presence here is most welcome, as well as that of your entourage. Would the girl you brought with you happen to be your little sister, Lady Georgina?”

“Ah, I see you’ve made sure to memorize the names of all the guests! Indeed, she insisted on joining me, and no matter what I said, she refused to take no for an answer!” Darnley bellowed in laughter, briefly drawing the attention of the other guests nearby.

“She already seems to be quite the free spirit. I’m sure she has a bright future ahead of her.”

“If you’re so interested in my dear Georgina, I would be more than willing to sit down and discuss a potential marriage between the two of you.”

You swore you saw a flash of disgust appear in Albert’s eyes, but he simply smiled brightly at Darnley, careful that his emotions did not look fake or contrived. “While your offer is certainly generous, I have no plans of marriage at the moment. I’m afraid I’m already plenty busy with my service in the royal army.”

“Ah, what a shame,” Lord Darnley sighed, but his disappointment quickly turned to anticipation when his gaze once again fell on you. Your stomach lurched at the look in his eyes, but you tried to retain your composure, copying Albert’s mannerisms by offering a surface-level smile.

“Lady [Name], I am supposing you are not yet married if you’re attending this function with the Moriartys.”

“That would be correct, my good sir. How astute of you to notice.”

Lord Darnley grinned at the news like a hunter mere moments away from ensnaring this prey. “Well then, my lady, is there anyone that has asked for your hand yet?”

Goosebumps ran down your arms as you swallowed thickly. Anyone with a right mind knew exactly where this conversation was heading.

“I…well…” Should you tell the truth? Should you lie? But then who would you say had expressed a desire in marrying you? “It’s…complicated.”

“So, that would mean no formal question has been posed then, correct?”

“...Correct.”

You heard Albert’s feet shift next to you, on guard for whatever preposterous idea this nobleman could come up with next.

“Well, it’s certainly not good for a lady of your standing to be without a husband. I, myself, am quite the romantic, and I believe a courting period fosters a genuine love between both parties involved. If you have no one currently vying for your hand, perhaps you’d offer me the chance to earn it.”

No. No. On so many levels, no.

But this wasn’t about you—your happiness or married life did not come before the liberation of London. Whatever the brothers asked of you, you would adhere to their words, even if it meant having to be stuck with a man such as…this. Though you knew they’d never even entertain the thought of offering you up to some man who cared only for your beauty and status and nothing for your heart. If you were to refuse Darnley’s advances, at the least, you were confident the Moriartys would respect your decision.

Even so, you didn’t want to cause any more trouble for them. If you couldn’t agree to the idea of marriage, perhaps a date or two would suffice, right?

Just the thought made you feel sick. 

“Well, what do you say, my lady? Will you allow me the pleasure of courting you?”

You knew you had to keep up appearances. You couldn’t allow for cracks to show in the perfect and amicable facade the Moriartys had carefully crafted. You knew that well, and yet…

This was a proposal that not even death itself could bring you to accept.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but I must sincerely refuse.”

Lord Darnley stared at you in alarm. “Come again? You didn’t just say no to my advances, did you?”

Your heart rate quickened as his words grew heated, and in that moment you wanted nothing more than to take off and hide somewhere safe and quiet in the manor’s garden, away from other people who might come up with even more ridiculous propositions.

“It’s just as you heard, my lord. I must decline.”

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as Lord Darnley stared straight into your eyes, not blinking for several long moments. Your hands had begun to shake as you feared that you’d just begun tarnishing the reputation of the Moriarty family. Truly, there were fewer things more terrifying than a nobleman who felt he’d been insulted, and the consequences for such an offense would be nothing short of dire.

“Lady [Name], you are in no place to refuse my offer. You said yourself that no other man has even brought up the idea of marriage to you! Are you truly so brazen that you would reject the prospects of a life in union with mine? We all know who makes the decisions around here, and they’re certainly not made by women—!”

“My good sir, I believe you’ve said quite enough.”

A small gasp left your lips as Albert sneaked a hand around your waist, still carefully holding his glass of wine in the other. You searched his face for an answer as to what he was scheming, but he simply smiled—a true one this time—wordlessly reassuring you that all would be well.

“You see, Lady [Name] may not have received an offer of marriage as of yet, but that is only because I have been quite busy protecting our beloved country. I wish to propose when I am able to be at home more often and thus can fulfill my duties as a devoted husband to my wife. So I must politely ask that you rescind your offer, lest you make yourself seem as though you chase after taken women.”

Propose? Husband?

If you were afraid of tainting the Moriarty image, Albert clearly didn’t share your concerns.

“Taken? Why, I—! You’re bluffing, Lord Albert! You’re not planning on marrying this woman!”

“And what has brought you to that incorrect conclusion?”

“If that were the case, you would have brought it up the moment I asked if she were single!”

“To be fair, you asked if she’d received an offer for marriage, not if she was currently available to court.”

You could practically see the steam coming out of Lord Darnley’s ears, his face growing redder with each passing minute. He was still unconvinced, and for good reason, too, but you weren’t about to let Albert’s kindness go to waste.

You placed a hand on Albert’s shoulder, smiling up at him as he redirected his full attention to you. “It’s true, my lord. My affections have been reciprocated by my dear Albert, and I am patiently waiting for him to ask me to marry him. It will be a proposal I shall readily accept.”

Darnley scoffed, a hand placed over his heart in disbelief. “And you had the gall not to tell me when I’d begun to question you? Either you’re a terrible liar, or you’re just hoping to humiliate me in front of all these guests!”

“I would never dream of deceiving or insulting you, my lord. I should have made my relationship status clear to you earlier. Please forgive my carelessness.”

“I still think this is some elaborate hoax the both of you are trying to pull off. If not to tarnish my good name, then to convince every noble here that you’re worth the status bestowed on you at birth.” Lord Darnley swiped a fresh glass of wine off the tray of one of the waiters walking by, the man watching in horror as the lord downed all of the liquid in one gulp. His cheeks had started to take on a flushed hue from the great amount of alcohol he’d consumed that night, and with the way things were going, he was sure to be drunk by the end of it. “Perhaps, Lady [Name],” Darnley continued, a lopsided smirk forming on his face, “you’ve been lying about your social status, and you’re hoping that your marriage to Lord Albert will secure you a place in the upper class.”

Anger surged through you at his utterly ridiculous theory. Darnley had unknowingly gotten one fact right: you were a nobody. When you’d been taken in by the Moriarty family, you had nothing to your name but pen, paper, and the clothes on your back. But you knew one thing for sure: you had worth as a human being, and no one, noble or otherwise, would be able to change that.

And marrying a noble for status? What a laughable suggestion. As if you’d stoop so low just for some so-called “honor” among the elite.

“Well, dear sir,” you began, discreetly hiding a smirk behind your gloved hand, “I had no idea you were so foolish as to even come up with such an inconceivable thought. I once held you in high regard as I’ve heard many within the nobility sing your praises, but your current behavior is quite unbecoming of a person of your stature.”

You heard Albert try, and fail, to stifle a laugh next to you. You quietly breathed out a sigh of relief to see that he’d chosen not to reprimand your strong words. If anything, he seemed eager to encourage them.

As Lord Darnley frantically signaled for a waiter to bring him more wine, Albert took the opportunity to lean down next to your ear, whispering a simple yet heart-pounding question, “[Name], would it be all right with you to play further into these roles of enchanted lovers?”

Your breath caught in your throat, butterflies beginning to form in your stomach. “Of course,” you said. If only you knew how I truly felt, you wouldn’t even need to ask.

He smiled down at you, a sight that only stirred up the butterflies even more, and pulled you closer against him. Meanwhile, his eyes bored into Lord Darnley’s frame, darkening with every passing moment. If there was no one else in that ballroom, you had no doubt Albert would have leapt at the chance to get rid of him.

When Lord Darnley had finished downing another glass of wine, his fiery countenance returned to you and Albert. “You both are frauds,” he spat. “Everyone else here might be too dim-witted to figure it out, but I’ll make them aware that you’re not the upstanding moral characters you believe that you are.”

“It’s a shame to hear such vile thoughts coming from your own mouth, good sir,” Albert sighed. “But if I must be honest, I don’t care what any noble in this room thinks of me or the house in which I rule over.”

“Oh? And why is that, good sir?”

“Because,” Albert answered, turning his body towards yours, his visage noticeably softening when his focus returned to you, “the only person I want to please is the woman I adore. Not one person in the nobility is worthy of praise or merit—no one but her alone.”

Setting aside his glass, Albert gingerly took your hand in his own, meeting your eyes to silently ask for your permission. At your nod of approval, he lifted your fingertips to his lips, placing a gentle and almost reverent kiss against them.

“I love her,” he said, his sweet gaze reaching the very depths of your soul, “and when the time is right, I will make her mine.”

His words were like a match igniting the fire blazing in your heart, the flames fed by your deep affections for him, growing with every beat that thumped in your chest.

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand came to rest against your cheek, his touch so light yet so dizzying, more intoxicating than any wine you’d had that night. 

Albert searched your eyes as all the feelings you’d tried to keep at bay finally came pouring in like waves. You were sure he could see it all: the admiration, the yearning, the love you’d kept locked away. But somehow he’d managed to find the matching key, the truth you’d been hiding for all these years finally at his reach.

His fingers traveled along your cheek and down to your jaw, this thumb tracing patterns against your skin. You were still dazed from his words to Darnley, but you brought yourself to meet Albert’s gaze once more, curious to see what truths you could uncover in his own expression.

And you wished you hadn’t, because when you saw the affection so clearly present in them, you wanted nothing more than to throw yourself into his arms and kiss him until the night turned into day.

Albert wasn’t oblivious, and you knew it. Whatever people thought of him as—a genius, a young prodigy, a man of great knowledge—his ability to read people was beyond the average person’s comprehension. And you knew when he’d finally figured out what the person he’d been surveying was hiding. His lips would quirk upwards ever so slightly, the dimples on his face just beginning to show, and he’d cock his head to the side, pleased with his findings.

And that was exactly how he was looking at you.

You’d placed your heart out in plain view of his observant eyes, and he’d figured you out. But now that he knew of your feelings for him, what was he planning to do with them?

Albert’s thumb drifted from your jaw down your lips, careful not to brush off the lipstick staining them. He stared at them for several moments, deep in thought, before he returned his eyes to yours, a single question hidden within them.

May I?

Already breathless, you squeezed his hand once, closing your eyes as Albert leaned in painstakingly slowly, every nerve in your body alight with anticipation. This was the moment you’d only been able to imagine in dreams, on nights where you sat wordlessly under the stars, silently wishing upon them in vain. They couldn’t grant you your desires. They couldn’t give you everything you ever wanted. You were the only one with the power to seize your opportunity and make your own wish come true.

And as Albert’s lips finally fell on yours, you smiled.

Your greatest wish was being granted right before your very eyes.

His lips tasted faintly of wine, and the subdued scent of his cologne still lingered on his collar. Combined with the warm and comforting touch of his hand cupping your face, your senses were overwhelmed in the most wonderful of ways. It felt as if you’d begun to float, brought into a fairy tale-esque trance where the entire world grew still except for you and Albert.

Time had stalled to allow you this moment of pure, undeniable bliss that not even the corrupt powers of this world could take away from you.

With his lips still on yours, Albert’s hand snaked further around your waist, gently pulling you closer against him. You practically had no room left between the two of you, and so in a moment of boldness, you placed one hand on his shoulder, the other on his chest, right above his heart. Even through his suit, you could feel it beating wildly.

It only made you wonder: did he truly mean what he’d said earlier? Did he really harbor such affection for you? Did he really intend…to make you his?

Before you could ponder anymore, Albert finally pulled away, cheeks faintly dusted with rose. He appeared somewhat dazed himself, but he kept his composure, still well aware of where the two of you were at the moment.

But this time when he turned to Darnley, he smirked, practically beaming from head to toe with delight as he spoke. “Well, Lord Darnley, do you believe us now?”

If looks could kill, both of you would have succumbed to that man’s rage.

Darnley’s hands gripped his wine glass so tightly that it shattered onto the floor, the remnants of wine staining his once perfectly polished suit. Other nobles stopped their conversations and turned to him upon hearing the commotion, a few of them even pulling out handkerchiefs.

“Sir, let me get you a new glass,” a waiter spoke, holding his hand out to take the broken one from him. But Lord Darnley was already fuming, and he shoved the waiter to the side, smashing the rest of the wine glass against the floor.

“You will pay for this,” he snarled. Sending you one final glare, he turned on his heel, marching out of the ballroom, hopefully never to be seen again (at least for the night).

“Well,” Albert breathed, laughing as he ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t think he’ll be bothering us anymore.”

“You’re right…Thank you, Albert.”

“What are you thanking me for?” he asked, gaze drifting back to yours. “I’ve done nothing to warrant your gratitude.”

You shook your head. “You have, Albert. You didn’t have to step in and save me from Darnley’s advances, but you did, even though doing so could have tarnished your family name. I’m indebted to you.”

Albert frowned ever so slightly, and you cocked your head to the side, confused. After a few moments, his gaze flickered to the people dancing around the room, his cheeks still tinged a beautiful red. “If you thought I was doing all that just to be a gentleman,” he murmured, “then I don’t know what it would take to make the truth clear to you...”

Well, suddenly you were the one left blushing. 

“It’s not that. I…I don’t want to assume anything more, not when you’re such a precious person to me. I’m just scared of ruining what we have between us.”

Albert turned his attention back to you, using the hand that was still on your waist to pull you close to him again. Taking your other hand in his, he lifted it up to his lips, your faces now just mere inches apart.

“And what if I were to say that I do want something more?”

You almost wanted to pinch yourself to make sure it wasn’t all a dream.

But you still felt the press of his lips against yours, took in the smell of his cologne, and memorized the touch of his fingers running along your cheek. It was not a dream. It was even better.

Albert leaned down next to your ear, his breath fanning against your skin. “If one kiss isn’t enough to convey how much my heart yearns for you, then allow me to kiss you until you’re breathless, and no more words of doubt are left on your tongue.”

Albert smiled as your face grew redder, and with the way he bit his lip, you knew he was struggling not to comment on it.

“For a noble, you sure lack any semblance of shame, Master Albert."

Albert shook his head and chuckled to himself, that mischievous glint having once again returned to his eyes. “Keep teasing me and you’ll find out just how shameless I can be, darling.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Do you want to find out?”

Despite your flustered state, you couldn’t help but laugh, squeezing Albert’s hand tighter in yours. “If you want to kiss me so badly, do so in a place that’s actually romantic, will you?”

Taking you by the hand, Albert began to lead you outside of the ballroom and into the rose gardens. “Of course, and I’ll take my time to make sure I kiss you properly.”

You made a mental note to thank William and Louis for letting you tag along to the ball. If all went well, they would end up becoming your own brothers-in-law, after all.

But that could wait until you finally had Albert’s affections all to yourself.

[mittch22]

I feel the need to draw attention to the plight of this poor bastard at the start of Cars 2.

Crabby is approached by a random-ass Aston Martin at a dock on the west coast of America, given a set of coordinates and is paid what I assume would have been quite a considerable sum of money to take said Aston out there. A strange situation indeed, made even stranger when you realise just how far Finn, or 'Buddy' asks Crabby to take him. When Crabby says "you can't get any further away from land than out here", he really fuckin meant it:

The coordinates put them almost smack bang in the middle of the pacific ocean. (and before you come for me, the bottom set of coordinates are correct, the ones that are displayed in Cars 2 have not had their decimals converted to minutes and seconds) Now, at this point, Crabby isn't asking too many questions. And his confusion must have hit what he thought was an all time high.

Then big chungus rocks up:

Tony Trihull, a heavily armed combat vessel, glides right up along side the tiny little crabbing boat and blocks him off from further venture. And when Crabby shows him his resistance, Tony threatens to sink him with a lazer guided missile launcher. At this point, Crabby relents and begins meandering back in the direction he came from (I do have to hand it to Crabby here, he's one fearless little ocean dweller).

So, Crabby has just been sent out into the centre of the pacific ocean with no logical answer as to why AND been threatened with being blown up AAAAAND, to top it all off with a delectable trauma cherry:

"Sorry, Buddy. Looks like its the end of the line.......... Buddy?"

'Hang on a minute. Where the hell is my four-wheeled, non-floating passenger!?!?!?' Aka, 'Did I just kill someone?'

Fear and panic would have taken over the mega-confusion of Finn's reasoning for his watery trip. 'Where did he go? How did he 'go'? There's nowhere for him TO go. Did he fall over the edge? Was he just a figment of my imagination? Hang on a minute, did I just help someone kick the bucket???'

Can you IMAGINE the horrific thought patterns that would have followed the realisation that 'Buddy' was no longer on board? Crabby is not aware of Finn's gadgets and capacities, and so, in his mind, there is no other possibility other than the death of the Aston Martin. Cue the hefty therapy bill.

I like to think that Finn is a bit of an empath and would have thought about how this situation would have affected Crabby. And I like to think that he would have found a way to let Crabby know that he was still around and kicking. Maybe after the mission had come to its conclusion. It would still leave Crabby with a plethora of questions. However, at least he would have known that he wasn't responsible for the death of a random and rather strange vehicle.

PS - Day jobs being performed in darkness are much easier to explain than evidently idiosyncratic night quests.

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 12

I've decided that since I have a fair amount of backlog on the three I've been doing WIP Wednesday for, that I'd post some of them to give me time to work on the rom-com AU more.

I recommend going back and re-reading part 11 at least before reading this one to be on the safe side.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

The Fallen boys need a break and Robin and Chrissy meet up with Nancy.

****

Things were going really well in the studio now that they had Bob Newby as their producer and their studio was closer to home so they could live their normal lives and still be in the studio recording.

It was the happiest the band had been in awhile. Which was why Steve should have seen it coming. The dark cloud on the horizon.

Shane was late.

That wasn’t to say that it was out of the ordinary or whatever, but it was now two hours late and Spence was pissed.

“When I get my hands on his scrawny neck,” he hissed. “I’m going to kill him.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “You’re just upset because it’s means you’ll be late for your date or whatever with Nadia. He’ll be here.”

“That’s not true and you know it, Asmodeus,” Spence bit out. “This is the third time this week and yeah, so what if I have a life outside of this, but that’s not why.”

Just then Shane stumbled in. He looked like absolute shit. His clothes were disheveled, his hair was a mess, and he wore dark sunglasses. Clutched to his chest was a large coffee.

“Fuck...” he mumbled as he shambled over to the sofa. He lowered himself gently onto the thing with a stream of curses. “Sorry I’m late, but my hookup last night turned off my alarm.”

He took a long sip of his coffee and rubbed his temple. He had finished most of the coffee when he realized that no one had said a word since he arrived.

The door opened and Bob and Robin entered the room looking more than a little cross.

Shane flashed them a smile. “Uh oh, it looks like I upset both mom and dad. So I was a little late. It happens.”

“But it shouldn’t be happening,” Spence said with a scowl. “This isn’t the first time. Hell, it’s not even the first time this week.”

Shane frowned, setting his coffee on the floor between his feet. He rubbed his temples as he struggled to think back. “That can’t be right, it’s only Monday, right?”

Everyone shared concerned glances.

“Astraeus,” Steve said slowly, “it’s Thursday.”

Bob crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You were late on Sunday, Monday and today, Astraeus.”

Shane stared up at them in open shock and disbelief. “There’s no way!” He pulled out his phone and looked at the date.

“Shit.”

“What’s been going on, man?” Simon asked, concerned for the first time. He hadn’t realized how often it had been and was giving Spence shit for wanting to be with his girlfriend.

Shane shook his head. “I have money for the first time in my life. I mean proper money. My parents always had enough to make sure we got into the things we wanted; sports, drama, music, you name it, but there wasn’t a lot of money to go around after, you know? I had to pay for my college education myself and I just wanted to live a little. Spread the money around, even if I couldn’t tell them what I did for a living, they don’t really care.”

“I can see that,” Robin said. “I think we all breathing easier, regardless of our backgrounds because the money we’re getting has pretty much set us up for life if it all went to shit tomorrow, which I really wouldn’t recommend, by the way.”

Shane let out a huff of breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “I really didn’t mean to go off like that, I’ll cut back to just the weekends. I promise.”

Robin and Bob shared a glance.

“That’s strike one, Astraeus,” Bob said, “I don’t take slackers lightly. You want me to continue to work for you guys, you’ve got to step it up.”

Shane nodded empathically. “Can we have a day off a week though? It doesn’t have to be on the weekend, but this seven days a week is really hard.”

Robin blinked at him a moment. “You guys have been coming every day?”

The band looked around at each and all gave a collective shrug.

She turned to Bob. “Is that your schedule?”

Bob’s jaw dropped and he shook his head. “I only do that if there’s a rush to get the album out, which I understood there wasn’t. I don’t how we got on working every day, but Astraeus is correct they need a day off.”

“What works best for everyone?”

The band worked out a better schedule that worked for everyone with it ending with Bob giving everyone the rest of the week off, giving them strict instructions to talk to him about those sort of things before it got to this point.

Robin clapped her hands once. “Right, now that we’ve got that settled, we’re still meeting up at Abbadon’s for dinner to discuss my meeting with Nancy. My meeting is at three and dinner is at six, so don’t be late.” She glared at Shane and he raised his hands in surrender.

“See you all then!”

****

Robin straightened her wig in her rearview mirror and added more lipstick. She wore special contacts that changed her bright blue eyes to a more common brown color. She was dressed in slim fitting white slacks with a bright pink silk blouse and a black leather aviator’s jacket. She hated wearing these clothes, they just weren’t her. At least she didn’t have to wear high heels to this thing. She would have broken an ankle for sure.

But she would sell her soul to the devil if it meant that Steve got to do what he loved. And it wasn’t as though she didn’t love her job either. But Eddie was right, she was on her last frayed nerve and that wouldn’t do her boys any good.

She slid out of her Maserati MC20 and walked up to the restaurant. The Corroded Coffin’s manager, Chrissy Cunningham was going to be there as a mediator.

Robin hadn’t told Steve this, but Chrissy knew who she was. Not the band, she didn’t know that, but she knew that Celeste Baptiste was Robin Buckley. It was just something Robin felt she needed to know before going in there with Nancy. That she personally had a stake in the game, even if it was just as Steve’s best friend.

Chrissy loved the idea of even their manager having an alter ego and it made Robin feel better about her choice to be someone else.

Robin and Chrissy kissed each other’s cheeks in greeting and Robin sat down.

“She’s not here yet?” she asked, looking at her matching watch.

Chrissy shook her head. “She’s running a little behind. One of her clients blew up the internet last night and she’s been having to play hard ball to keep it from destroying their career.”

Robin leaned in close. “Ooh, do you know who it was?”

“That’s for me to know,” Nancy said from above them, “and for you to never find out.”

Robin looked up at her and was struck on how good she looked. It was almost unfair how good she looked.

She was wearing a grey plaid blazer with the sleeves rolled up over a white button shirt and a black pencil skirt. She wore grey boots and matching sunglasses, glasses she took off with a shake of her dark curls.

Robin gulped. Nancy had been intimidating enough in high school, but now she could stare down a raging bull and come away unscathed.

“Hello, ladies,” Nancy said with a smile. “I’m sorry I was late, but I think I managed a god damn miracle and could eat an entire salad bar.”

Nancy sat down and put her phone in her purse.

“Oh are you vegan?” Chrissy asked as the waiter came up with a pitcher of water. Nancy waved him off and ordered a rosé.

“Just vegetarian,” she said with a shake of her head. “I love cheese too much. Plus, I knew a militant vegan and they scare me.”

Robin laughed. “Couldn’t be me, I went full vegan last year and haven’t looked back.”

Nancy and Chrissy both winced, but for different reasons, Nancy for her comment about militant vegans and Chrissy, well...

“I picked this place because it has the best rib eye steak on the planet,” she said with a grimace. “That’s not going to bother either of you if I order that, right?”

Nancy and Robin shared a glance and then shook their heads.

“My best friend loves steak,” Robin said, “It’s his choice to eat it, I just a have a problem with the ethical consumption of meat and other animal products.”

“Most of my clients eat meat,” Nancy agreed. “I’m not about to piss them off because I don’t like the taste.”

Chrissy relaxed and let out a long sigh. “Great!”

She picked up her menu to hide her embarrassment. A few minutes later, their waiter came back and they placed their orders.

Nancy had ordered a pasta with roasted sun dried tomatoes and mushrooms and Robin ordered a simple salad with a vinaigrette.

As they waited for their food, Nancy got down to business. “So as I understand it, the band The Fallen is looking for an agent to help with the legal and PR aspect of their brand, correct?”

Robin nodded, twisting her napkin nervously. Normally as Celeste, she was cooler under pressure but Nancy scared her. Not because of anything she could do to her specifically, but because what she could do to her boys.

Chrissy reached out and laid her hand over Robin’s fidgeting ones. Robin let out a shuddered breath.

“Normally bands like theirs have teams and teams of people doing all the work,” Robin said, “but with the secrecy surrounding their identities the more people that know the easier it is for a leak.”

Nancy nodded. “It’s certainly not the usual thing. But I’ve got a few clients that are strict about their identities and it wouldn’t be a problem, but as I told Chrissy, I would have know everything about them so that I can do my upmost to protect them.”

“Did you sign the NDA?” Robin asked, straightening her spine. This was something she was good at. Protecting her boys and she would do it with the fierceness of a mother bear and her cubs.

Nancy picked up her briefcase and opened it up. She took out a folder and handed it to Robin. Robin looked it over and then nodded.

She stuck it in her purse and pulled out a hard portfolio and slid it across to Nancy. Chrissy squeezed her hand as Nancy read through the documents. Their food arrived in the interim and she set it aside. She steepled her hands and planted her elbows on the table.

“How much of this do you know?” she asked Chrissy.

“Only what I needed to which is who Celeste is,” she replied, “and that both her and Abbadon have a history with you that could be trouble for a lot of people, not just the band.”

Nancy nodded and took a bite of her food before saying anything else. Chrissy and Robin exchanged glances but started eating as well. More for something to do in the intervening silence than because they were actually interested in food at that moment.

After a few moments Nancy blotted her lips with her napkin and set it next to her plate. “This is not what I was expecting when I heard that you had concerns about my professionalism and in all honesty, this is easier to understand then a manager thinking they don’t need the help of an agent when they really do.”

Chrissy and Robin shared a glance.

“Is that something that’s common?” Chrissy asked. Corroded Coffin had already had Nancy as their agent when she became their manager five years ago. They had outgrown their former manager Murray Bauman and was looking for someone younger to manage them so they hired her.

Nancy nodded. “It is.” She turned to Robin. “You’re his best friend, right? The quirky band chick who was always working with him?”

Robin was impressed with her way of asking the question without revealing anything significant about their identity. She brought her finger up to her contact and moved it aside to show the blue underneath before sliding it back into place.

“I’m assuming I’m the last resort?” Nancy asked after taking another bite of food.

Robin and Chrissy shared another glance.

“Not in the way you mean,” Chrissy explained. “I gave her a list of agents that might be able to have them on as clients and we’ve met with a couple of them but decided even before they got to what’s in the folder that they weren’t suitable for their needs.”

“The double lives aspect, I suspect.”

“Both of them wanted to push them into revealing themselves,” Robin said, nodding. “Which was completely off the table.”

Nancy licked her bottom lip and her eyes narrowed. “Is that off the table indefinitely or will we circle back to that sometime in the future?”

Robin rolled her eyes. “There’s no way to predict if they’re going to change their mind five-six years down the line.”

“I’m going to be frank,” she said, “I do not have a problem repping them. Not even Abbadon. But I understand there will be some awkwardness on both sides at first. I will even apologize in person. Because the fact of the matter is, I did hurt him. I strung him along until something better came along and then didn’t even have the decency to break up with him before moving on. I was young and stupid and even worse, I’m not even with that guy anymore. Like with me and Abbadon, we wanted different things.”

“Apologize first,” Chrissy said with a wicked gleam in her eye, “then we’ll see about hiring you for The Fallen.”

Nancy reached out to shake Robin’s hand. “Deal?”

Robin nodded curtly. “Deal.”

They moved onto the more tedious aspects of what they wanted out of Nancy as they finished their meals.

But as Robin was heading back to her car she had a small satisfied smile on her face. Yes, this really was the best option for the band.

****

Because of canon-Chrissy's unhealthy relationship with food, I wanted her to go hard into eating all things that her mom most likely forbade her from eating growing up. Hence the steak and the wine. Nancy I figured would be at least vegetarian with personality (just the vibes I get from her *shrug*) and Robin would absolutely be vegan. Just not a militant one.

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[awkwardandeccentric]

I think Stolas, like most white liberals, genuinely believes he isn’t racist.

Let me explain.

Everyone, every single person, in a racist society will internalize it. Even Blitz has internalized racism against imps. Because of course he does. You can’t grow up in a racist society and not internalize its values.

I think Stolas is being completely genuine when he says he never looked down on Blitz. But at the end of the day, that doesn’t matter. He may not actively look down on imps or go out of his way to make their lives worse, but he also doesn’t do anything to challenge the status quo. He’s only ever seen imps and hellhounds in service positions with Blitz being the sole exception.

I’ve noticed he never, ever mentions he doesn’t look down on imps. He always says he doesn’t look down on Blitz. And a lot of white liberals subconsciously believe that marginalized races are in service positions for a reason and that meritocracy is real. Not quite as bad as “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” but closer to “well he pulled himself out of poverty, so surely you can too and you choose not to.” If imps and hellhounds are only in service positions, they must choose to be there, right? It could never be because that’s all that was available to them. It doesn’t help that the first time he’s had to actually think about class and race disparities was when he was being tortured and almost murdered. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if the whole topic is a legitimate PTSD trigger. And he’ll still have to figure out how to work around that.

Look, I’m in an interracial, interclass marriage. I have been for years. I am the white person who came from a well-off family. And even now I still have to face some very ugly things I thought I unlearned. I still have to be called on my bullshit sometimes. And so will Stolas. This will be the biggest part of his arc because while working on his interpersonal behavior is great, he’s still going to move through the world hurting the people he cares about until he can empathize with the lower classes.

[youcouldmakealife]

Sven/Gérard/Yvette; almost home

Another of the Kickstarter fills, for a request for some OG OT3.

“You know,” Blair says. “As a single dude, when your friends start getting married and have kids, usually you start to drift apart.”

Sven blinks at him, feeling slow, as he so often has lately. Blair’s speaking to him, but obviously he’s the married friend with kids in this equation, in which case the single dude is — ah.

“I don’t think we’ve drifted apart,” Sven says, looking over at Gérard. Gérard smiles back, small.

He doesn’t think they’ve drifted apart at all.

“Well, no, you’ve done the exact opposite,” Blair says. “That’s kind of my point.”

“I don’t understand what your point is meant to be,” Sven says.

“Leo?” Blair says. “You want to do that English to Olsen translation for me?”

Gérard smiles again. It looks tired. Sven sympathizes. Empathizes. Whatever the word is.

Usually he’s much better at this, but he hasn’t had an undisturbed night of sleep since little Gerard was born. Well, except on the road, but that’s exhausting in its own way — his first night away from Yvette and the baby, he spent half the night texting her for updates until she told him to sleep so at least someone would.

Sven is a champion sleeper. He’s renowned for it. Or, he was. He misses it. Sleeping in. Lazy mornings in bed. Napping just for the pleasure of it, rather than because it’s the only sleep he can snatch. He knew what he was giving up, but — well, he didn’t know.

“Too tired for translation,” Gérard says.

“Me or you?” Sven asks.

“Both, probably,” Gérard says.

“Okay,” Blair says. “Uh, usually people, you know, quit having shit in common? Instead of uh, literally moving in so they can help take care of the baby? Typically?”

“Well,” Sven says. “Have they considered it? Because I do have to say, it’s significantly easier to handle childcare when you outnumber the baby three to one.”

“Neither of you look like it’s even remotely easy,” Blair says. “Did you sleep at all last night, Cap?”

“I slept six hours,” Sven says. They weren’t all consecutive, but even so, he thinks those are solid numbers for a newborn. “As did Yvette.”

Hers were consecutive, thanks to an eye mask, ear plugs, and a noise machine. He can’t begrudge her any of it; she’s the one at home taking care of little Gerard while they’re here enduring their teammates’ busybodying because the coaching staff is running late. And not just one or two, but all of them. Sven would like to think that implies something scandalous, but most likely they’re in a meeting. He’s glad they don’t have meetings. He doesn’t think he could handle meetings on six hours of sleep. Frankly he doesn’t think he could handle meetings on eight.

Or perhaps they’ve all been fired. Sven hopes that isn’t the case. He likes them, but more importantly, he thinks if he had to adjust strategies right now he might malfunction. He’s learning something new every minute, it feels like. There is no room in his brain.

“That seems like a lot for a baby?” Bowie says. “Sleep,” he adds, when Sven blinks at him. He’s lost the thread again.

“Oh,” Sven says. “Yes. That’s my point.”

“Wait,” Dan says. “How many did Gérard sleep?”

“Seven,” Gérard yawns. His were also not consecutive. He’s an unfortunately light sleeper. He’s managed to adjust on the road, so Sven hopes he’ll be able to adjust to the baby too, but it hasn’t happened yet. But it’s only been a month. It feels much, much longer than that.

“Okay,” Scott says, leaning in, his eyes a little wild. His wife’s due any day, so Sven isn’t surprised. “I don’t know if my wife would agree, but you know what? For six hours of sleep, I’m in. Gérard, what do you charge?”

“You have to name your child after him,” Cary says. “Obviously.”

“I would genuinely consider doing that,” Scott says.

“Aren’t you guys having a girl?” Bowie asks.

“Gerardina,” Scott says. “What do you say, G?”

“That sounds like an STD,” Cary says. “You’d do that to your poor kid?”

“For six hours of sleep a night?” Scott says. “Absolutely.”

“Too bad,” Sven says, reaching a hand out. Gérard’s sitting too far away for him to reach, so he lets his hand hover in the air, hoping Gérard knows that Sven’s wrapped a telepathic arm around his shoulders. He might. Gérard is an exceptional individual. “He’s mine.”

“My wife’s a good cook,” Scott says. “Those two don’t cook, do they?”

Sven stands up, walking over to Gérard’s stall so he can not so telepathically wrap a possessive arm around his shoulders. Gérard leans back into him.

“I cook,” Gérard says.

“Free meals, and I’ll name two kids after you,” Scott says. “First name, middle name, everything.”

Sven tightens his grip.

“I don’t think Sven would be willing to give me up,” Gérard says.

Sven’s glad he knows this.

The coaching staff come in then — not fired en masse, Sven is thankful to see — and everyone jumps up, the few who haven’t changed into their gear hurriedly devoting themselves to the task.

Practice is harder than usual, but easier than conversation. There’s muscle memory to it, the literal practice of hockey, broken down into its bare components. Conversation flows, it changes, he has to adapt. That’s true of hockey too, but moreso during games than in practice. He’s only scored two goals in the past six weeks, but practice, that he can do. It’s almost nice, getting to use his body, to know that everything’s still there, that it still knows what to do, especially after he found his phone in the fridge this morning. He hadn’t even realised it was missing.

“I’ve never been more popular in my life,” Gérard says on the drive back. Sven isn’t a fan of driving at the best of times, so they’ve mutually agreed Gérard should be the one behind the wheel. “Everybody wants to name their kid after me.”

Sven grunts.

“Don’t worry,” Gérard says. “I won’t take Scottie up on his offer. I know you wouldn’t know what to do without me.”

Yvette might — she’s very capable, far more comfortable with everything. She’s tired, but not totally at sea. But Sven?

“I wouldn’t have the first idea,” Sven says honestly.

“Sleep for the rest of the drive,” Gérard says.

“It’s only ten minutes,” Sven says, but he closes his eyes, and doesn’t open them again until Gérard’s gently shaking his shoulder, telling him to come inside.

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Boston Bears: Off-Limits - Rugby Player!Chris x Reader (Part 3)

Summary: Despite Chris telling you to back off there's undeniable chemistry that both of you are struggling to ignore

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Angst! Fluff! Language! SMUT! 18+ ONLY! Masturbation! SMUT! 18 + ONLY! MINORS DNI!

Rugby Explained

Dividers by Me!

Series Masterlist / Masterlist

Chapter 3

You let out a long sigh as you shimmied into the 5th bridesmaid dress that Tommi had sent over to you to try on. Once it was mostly up you grabbed the string you had attached to the zipper and pulled it up to zip yourself in, a little trick you’d learnt after living alone for a few years. You then stepped back into the view of Tommi who was watching through your laptop screen. 

“Hmm I don’t think I like that one as much as the others, the neckline doesn’t look quite right” she hummed as she assessed the dress. 

“Yeah I’ve never been a fan of strapless” you added as you tugged the bodice of the dress up higher “This dress does make my ass look good though” you smirked, twisting to show off all the work the dress was doing. 

“You can say that again” Tommi whistled “Still doesn’t beat dress number 3 though”

“Yeah same, that one’s my favourite” you agreed “How many more are there?” you asked glancing over to the large box which she’d sent over to you containing all the different dresses. 

“Just two more” Tommi answered “I know 7 is a little overkill but I just wanted you to have a dress you definitely liked, especially as my maid of honour”

“Yeah, yeah I know it's okay” you sighed tiredly, scratching your forehead “So is this going in the no pile?” you asked dropping your arm to gesture at the dress you were currently wearing. 

“Yeah let's ditch that one” Tommi confirmed with a nod of her head. 

You let out another long tired sigh before stepping away to undress and put on the 6th dress. 

“Hey is everything okay? We can call it a day if you wanna?” you heard Tommi call out. 

You shook your head and stepped back into frame “Nah it’s alright, just been a long week that’s all”

“It’s Wednesday” Tommi frowned. 

“Exactly a long ass week” you grumbled as you step back, take off the dress and toss it into the no pile with the 4 other dresses. 

“Not as fun working with your dad as you thought?” Tommi asked as you changed into the sixth dress. 

“No it’s not that,” you said zipping up the dress and stepping back into the frame “Chris has just a bit… I dunno…”

“A dick? Asshole?” Tommi supplied making you shake your head. 

“No, not really, a bit dickish but not majorly” you defended.

Tommi frowns “Right… so what’s happened since Sunday and now?” she asked. 

“Well apparently he didn’t realise I was the coach’s daughter, got all pissed that I’d hidden it from him” you explained. 

“Did you?” Tommi frowned. 

“No, well I didn’t outright tell him who my dad was because there wasn’t really the opportunity but I gave him enough to connect the dots, I assumed he already knew” you explained with a shrug of your shoulders “Yeah I should have probably made it clearer but who cares who my dad is? We’re grown adults!”

Tommi nodded “What else did he say?” 

“That he wouldn’t have slept with me if he’d known, all because my dad said no one on the team is allowed to date me” you sighed. 

Tommi took a deep breath as she nodded her head slowly “Well… at least you cut it off before it got any further, one time can be played as a mistake” you just hummed in response, not quite willing to admit that you still offered him more “wait, what did that hum mean?” Tommi asked and you cursed under your breath. 

“Can you stop it with your empath vibe checker thing” you groaned in annoyance rolling your eyes. 

“It’s not that, I’m just know you too well, so c’mon get it out otherwise it’ll just fester,” Tommi said with a knowing look. 

You let out a long sigh as you repositioned your laptop so you could sit down on your bed “All I did was point out that my dad said no dating, and casual sex isn’t dating”

“No but it’ll get messy if you keep seeing him, I’m sorry but I agree with Chris on this one, you need to move on a find someone else” Tommi said gently. 

“I know but fuck I just can’t seem to stop myself from thinking about him, it's like I’ve got this itch that only he can scratch” you explained. 

“I think you might need to get that checked out” Tommi smirked pulling a snort of laughter from you. 

“You know what I mean, there’s just something there like a magnetic force that keeps pulling me in and I know I shouldn’t but the words were just out of my mouth before I could stop it” you told her. 

“I get that” Tommi nodded “but maybe you just need to find someone else to scratch that itch, someone where the possibility of it blowing up in your face is smaller” she suggested.

“Yeah, the team are playing at home again this weekend so I could probably find someone after the match again” you hummed as your fingers mindlessly fidgeted in your lap “It's just… I think what my mind keeps coming back to and part of why I feel that pull is the way Chris has behaved suggests he’s a really good guy”

“Even though he was a bit of a dick after he found out?” Tommi frowned. 

“Yeah, but it must have been a bit of a shock to find that out so it’s gonna be justified, and you know he cares about what my dad thinks, anyone else who was a dick wouldn’t have cared, he does” you explained “which just makes me think it might not blow up in my face”

“Yeah… that is true but it still might and even if you did end things amicably there’s still gonna be that awkwardness and do you really wanna risk that?” Tommi said with a gentle sigh “Look I think right now you just need to focus on you, and your job and just be happy with yourself, do what you want”

“Yeah maybe you’re right” you admitted despite it feeling so, so wrong, especially since what you wanted was Chris.

“You’ll find someone else, someone who’s not a dick and isn’t gonna cause unnecessary drama,” Tommi said with a reassuring smile. 

You nodded “Thanks Tommi,” you said before standing back up “This dress is a definite no, it digs in when you sit down and while I plan to do a lot of dancing at your wedding, I can not not sit down” 

Tommi let out a loud laugh nodding her head “Okay, another one for the no pile, so unless number Seven is a miracle dress, number three it is”

“They do say three is the magic number” you winked making Tommi laugh even louder. 

Like predicted dress number three was the winner so you packed the rest back into the box ready to be shipped back to Tommi so she could return them. The two of you then ended up spending another hour or so catching up, talking a little more about the wedding before you finally had to call it a night. 

You felt exhausted when you climbed into bed. Today’s training session hadn’t gone well at all, all the players were playing well individually but their cohesion was gone. They were a completely different team than what you saw on Saturday. It meant more minor injuries were cropping up like jarred fingers that needed strapping. 

Chris seemed to be the worst though as he missed countless number of passes and tackles, it was like his mind was switching off periodically. Part of you wondered and maybe hoped it was because of you. That maybe you were on his mind just like he was on yours. Another part of you was worried if that was the case because Chris was right about needing to focus on the Championship. 

Despite how tired you were you just couldn’t get comfortable and your mind just wouldn’t turn off. Chris was once again on your mind, first you were just revisiting the encounters you had and wondering how you could have played them differently. Which then turned into daydreams about what you’d do and say if something similar happened again, which just turned into straight-up fantasies.

Fantasies like what if Chris had taken you up on that offer in the medical room. Would he have bent you over the medical bed and taken you from behind? Or would he have lifted you up onto the counter and taken you there? You honestly couldn’t decide which you’d want more.

If he took you from behind you’d feel his hips slapping against your ass, he could take full advantage of your ass, grab it, spank it. He could wrap his hand around your hair, tugging it, pulling you back to make the angle even more delicious. 

If he took you on the counter though, he’d have full access to your chest again. Your top would be ripped off as soon as possible, your bra discarded too. One hand could grip your hip to keep you where he wanted, the other would be massaging and squeezing your breast. His callused fingertips playing with your peak, pinching and twisting. He’d give your other breast equal attention with his mouth, using his tongue and teeth to pull you to your peak. 

You could feel the heat pooling at your core at just the thought of Chris. You tried to just think it away and not scratch that itch but it was impossible. Soon enough your hand slipped under your sleep shorts and you felt just how turned on you were just at the thought of him. You couldn’t recall a time you’d been this turned on at the thought of someone. 

Just the feeling of your fingertips running up and down your core brought relief while also making the pressure ten times more intense. You increased the pressure, bringing your fingers up to your clit, swirling them around the sensitive nub, gasping when you pinched it between your fingers. 

Feeling the needy ache inside you, you slipped your fingers down to your entrance, biting your lip to hide a moan when you slipped your fingers inside yourself. You knew almost immediately your fingers alone would not be enough. You gave yourself a few pumps, pressing the heel of your palm against your clit but it just wasn’t enough. You needed the thickness of Chris’ fingers, the thickness of his cock.

In desperation you grabbed your vibrator from your drawer. Your shorts thrown haphazardly across the room to give you more room to work with. You instantly turned it on and pressed it against your core, a moaning curse escaping your lips. The memory of Chris doing the exact same thing played in your mind, the way he teased you and made you beg.

The memory alone meant you were precariously close to the edge when you finally pushed the vibrator inside. Usually, you found yourself still having to work yourself up, only ever finding your peak with the highest setting, but just the thought of Chris had you nearly coming on the lowest. 

You wanted to find relief, but you needed this to last longer. You took a couple of calming breaths, bringing yourself back down from that cliff edge. When you felt ready again you began playing with yourself once more, hands roaming over your body. 

Your mind kept coming back to Chris which just made your need even more intense. So much so that even though you wanted to pace yourself you turned up your vibrator to a higher setting, a loud moan escaping your lips when you did so. 

Not knowing how thin your walls were and not wanting to disturb your neighbours you rolled over onto your stomach so your pillow could muffle your moans. The new position did wonders as you then pictured Chris taking you like this, the way his weight would push you down into the mattress as he pounded you from behind. 

Your hips instinctively bucked up off the mattress as if he was there, as if you were moving to meet his thrusts. Your fantasy was so vivid it was like you could feel his presence in the room, smell his aftershave in the air. 

You moved up onto your knees, head still against the pillow as you picture him lifting your hips up. His fingers leaving marks on your hips as he gripped onto you. You once again turned up the intensity of your vibrator, your whole body moving as you pumped it inside you, chanting Chris’ name like a prayer. The chanting became a scream when you hit your peak, the noise drowned out as you buried your head in your pillow. 

Your legs felt weak so you rolled back onto your back, your chest heaving as you came down from your high, the vibrator still buzzing inside you. The image of Chris hitting his own peak flashed through your mind. The moan that escaped his lips, the blissed-out look on his face. You were caught by surprise when a second orgasm rolled through your body just because of the mental image of Chris hitting his peak. 

When you finally recovered you quickly turned your vibrator off and set it aside. Your chest was still heaving as you tried to catch your breath. You had never had an experience like that on your own, never been able to give yourself two orgasms. You knew it was all because you were picturing and wanting Chris. 

Even though you agreed with Tommi that pursuing something with him could lead to disaster, you knew that even if you did find someone else you’d be comparing them to Chris and it would just lead to disappointment. Chris had officially ruined you.

Chris was screwed. So, so screwed. All week he’d been off his game, at first he could blame it on his sore leg holding him back but thanks to your stretches that was sorted by Tuesday. He had no excuse for the rest of the week.

In the gym sessions, he wasn’t able to work at his usual level, benching far below his average. When he got questioned on it he just lied and said he was playing it safe this week. When truthfully he wasn’t physically able to lift any heavier. 

In training sessions when they went over drills he wasn’t able to hit as hard or take as many hits. His passes were slow or off target leaving the rest of the team to pick up the pieces. He could see the frustration on their faces when they had to scramble to collect the ball, he understood how they were feeling because he was feeling it too.

He tried everything he could to get his head back in the game. He stayed late in training sessions, running drills solo. He tried meditating to clear his mind but it was impossible because there was always one thing on his mind. 

You.

Even when he didn’t see you at training you would find a way back into his mind. His mind kept going back to when he confronted you in the medical room and despite how pissed he was he was one move away from initiating round two. Your offer replayed in his mind, reminding him of the loophole, tempting him. 

He couldn’t give in to temptation though. There was too much on the line for that. Every time he considered it he just told himself that he needed a release. It was worse at night when the world was quiet and his brain could get loud. So every night he found himself jerking off to give him that release he was clearly craving. He’d try not to picture you but it was near impossible, each time he’d picture a new fantasy each one getting more vivid and intense than the last. So much so that last night even after he brought himself to orgasm he still felt the intense need for release. 

He just hoped that on gameday everything would click back into place and he could focus on the game. As he walked into the stadium he followed his usual pre-game routine. He had his headphones in, head down as he walked through the corridors to the changing room, ignoring the photographer who was capturing the team's arrival. 

In the changing room, he kept to himself as he changed into his kit. He was lucky that he was even picked to play following his awful performance, he hoped that it was because Coach Y/L/N still believed in him and not because he wanted to lie about an injury during training. 

Once he was ready he just sat in his cubby and mentally ran through drills, picturing the Chicago Knights recalling all their weaknesses he’d noticed during analysis sessions. As the rest of the team arrived he gave them small nods of greeting before returning his mind back to the game ahead.

When it was time to go out onto the field he felt more confident than he did this morning. He had yet to see you though which he worried was the reason why. He knew he’d regret it but when he walked out onto the pitch he glanced over to the bench and that’s when he saw you talking with the other medics. He managed to catch your eye, he watched as you studied him for a moment with an unreadable expression on your face before returning your attention back to your conversation. 

Your complete dismissal of him left a strange feeling in his stomach. He was fighting the urge to walk over and say something. He didn’t know what he wanted to say but he just knew he wanted to be next to you. Thankfully he was snapped out of that train of thought when Ari slapped him hard on the shoulder. 

The confidence Chris had built was all but gone when they started warm-ups and drills. He wasn’t playing as bad as he had during the week but he wasn’t playing well at all. When he went aside to practice his kicks his accuracy was completely shot. Angles that he usually found easy were now near impossible and he could hear the murmurings of the crowd behind him. 

When warm-ups were done the team gathered for their usual huddle. While the coaches gave their usual talks Chris worked on emptying his mind, so much so that he didn’t notice it was his turn to talk until Jensen patted his shoulder to get his attention. 

“Sorry” Chris muttered shaking his head “We’ve had a tough week, all of us, some more than others, but we need to put that behind us and focus on the here and now” Chris started looking around at the team “we beat the knights earlier this season on their turf, we can beat them again on ours, think positively and think clearly, they’ve got something to prove so they’re gonna hit us hard so be prepared, we can win this and we will win this,” he said trying to convince himself more than anything. 

Thankfully the team didn’t seem to notice his lack of confidence as they nodded along and did their usual cheer in confirmation before heading back into the changing rooms ready to start the match. As Chris followed behind them he once again spared a glance in your direction, you met his gaze once more but instead of looking away, you gave him the smallest of nods. Chris was surprised to feel it settle him slightly, he didn’t allow himself to think about it though as he shook his head and walked back through the tunnel. 

Any confidence Chris had that the team were gonna win this match was shredded pretty quickly into the first half and it was all Chris’ fault. The other players were playing well, they’d taken what he said on board and put everything behind them, it was him who was letting them down.

He missed so many passes, fumbled the ball and knocked it on. So far almost all the penalties in the game were because of his mistakes. At one point he seemed to almost completely switch off and missed a tackle allowing the knights to break free, if it wasn’t for Johnny’s speed and tap tackle they would have scored. 

He was bringing the team down with him, any play he tried to make was the wrong call. He was making poor choices and the scoreboard reflected that. All he could hear was the crowd complaining whenever something went wrong. 

Needless to say, Coach Y/L/N was not impressed when it was finally half-time and the team made their way back into the changing rooms. Chris had only just sat down in his cubby when the coach marched in, a look of thunder on his face.

“What the hell is going on out there Evans!” he demanded.

Chris tried to find a reason to explain it all but he couldn’t so he just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head “I-I dunno coach, I’m sorry… I think I’m just in my head” he apologised.

“It’s not good enough Evans! You’re off for the rest of the match, Levinson you’re captain for the second half” Coach Y/L/N ordered. 

“Yes sir” Ari muttered glancing over at Chris whose jaw had dropped.

“No sir I’m fine! I’ll play better I promise” Chris reasoned not liking that he was being dropped mid-game. 

“You’re lucky you even played today Evans and you know it!” Coach snapped “We need to win this match and then we have a two-week break, use that time to get your head on straight, I don’t care how you do it, just sort it out”

Chris let out a defeated sigh and nodded his head “Yes sir”. 

Chris zoned out for the rest of the team talk, just shrugging on his jacket to keep him warm just in case he needed to go back on. He doubted it though, the only reason he’d go back on now was if there were enough injuries that the coach had no choice. 

Once half-time was over Chris followed the rest of the team back out, except he took a turn to sit down on the bench instead of following them onto the pitch. He let out a long sigh as he sat down he glanced over to the side and saw you stood with the other medics ready to run on at a moment's notice. Chris instantly shifted in his seat knowing you were now only a short distance away from him. This was gonna be a long second half. 

You usually watched a match pretty intensely because you had to spot when a player was stubbornly trying to play on when really they needed some medical attention. But today you refused to take your eyes on the pitch unless you absolutely had to. Mostly because all you could feel was Chris’ eyes on your back and you didn’t want to find out whether he was glaring daggers at you or not. 

He was seriously off his game and you couldn’t help but feel like you were to blame and you didn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, you really didn’t want him to be off his game, and you didn’t like that you were the reason especially if it was pissing him off. But… on the other hand, a part of you liked that you had gotten into his head, that you were affecting him as much as he was affecting you. 

Curiosity got the better of you and you glanced over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him. Only to find him watching you with his jaw clenched and shoulders tight. The look on his face was not one of want it was one of irritation. Yep, he was pissed off at you, curiosity killed this cat so you whipped back around to focus on the game.

Thankfully there were only 20 minutes left of the match and you could head home and get away from this. There was definitely no chance with Chris and you needed to accept that fact. If it required a pint of ice cream and a gallon of wine then that’s what you’d do. 

You were just making your non-break-up-break-up recovery plan when you noticed Johnny get up from a tackle limping. You grabbed your bag and ran onto the pitch to meet him and made him sit down to get the weight off his leg. 

“Hey, hey sit down before you make it worse” you said wrapping your hand around his arm to stop him. 

Johnny flashed you a lopsided smile before nodding “Sure thing” he agreed sitting himself down “It’s my ankle, just needs strapping”

“Sure not a problem,” you said passing him a water bottle before grabbing some tape from your bag.

As you worked you could feel Johnny watching you and when you glanced up you saw his trademark boyish smirk “I have to say you pull off that orange medic bib well, not many do” he said.

Your eyes narrowed as you studied Storm “What are you doing?”

“Flirting with you,” he said without missing a beat.

“Did you not hear my father’s warning?” You asked him returning your attention to his ankle.

“Oh I did, but Evans is off his game and jealousy never fails to give someone that push” he explained with a shrug of his shoulders “We’ve got a championship to win, we don’t need a Captain who’s distracted because he’s not allowing himself the action he wants”

You swallowed nervously “he told you about that?” You ask trying not to sound too scared at the prospect.

“No it’s none of my business, I’d just heard he’d left the bar with a girl last weekend, didn’t know it was you until I saw the look on his face when you walked in on Monday” Johnny explained. 

“What look?” You asked tilting your head slightly.

“The look of running into a hookup unexpectedly, trust me it's a look I know well, I also know the look on your face whenever you look at him,” Johnny said pointing at you.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” You scoffed.

“The one that says you’re lost in whatever dirty daydream he’s currently starring in,” Johnny said knowingly.

“Yeah well he’s made it pretty clear that it's not gonna happen” you huffed as you put the tape back in your bag and passed him a water bottle.

“Nah he’s close to cracking, trust me” Johnny said with a shake of his head “So tell me do you want to get into bed again with the captain?” he asked with a knowing look. 

You bit your lower lip as you considered it. The voice of Tommi flashed through your mind telling you it was a good idea that Chris cut things off. You can’t get hurt if you don’t get involved. But no matter how many times you told yourself that you just couldn’t get the craving to go. 

“Yes,” you whispered nodding your head.

The grin on Johnny’s face grew “So let me help you, and in turn, help the team” You don’t say anything except arch a brow and a lopsided grin grows on his face “all you need to do is laugh, smile at me and maybe send me on my way with a touch to the arm”

You glanced towards the sidelines where Chris was watching from his spot on the bench. Even from this distance, you could tell his expression was stormy and it wasn’t because he’d been taken off early. His gaze was set solely on you and Johhny.

“Alright, deal,” you said holding out your hand to help Johnny to his feet. 

“Perfect, and in return you can give me the number of your sister if you have one” Johnny smirked.

You laughed at that “I like you Storm but even if I had a sister it would be a no” you chuckled.

“Hot single friend?” He asked hopefully making you laugh even more, not even needing to fake it.

“Focus on the Rugby,” you told him, touching his bicep as you stepped away back towards the sideline. 

As you walked back your gaze met Chris’ whose face had turned even stormier. He quickly adverted his gaze, only to glare daggers at Johhny. It was a good thing that he’d been taken off because by the look in his eyes, he’d probably tackle Johnny himself. 

Thankfully for the team, the Bears managed to claw back the scoreboard and beat the knights so the team were in high spirits when they returned to the changing room, with the exception of Chris who was still being broody. 

You were stood in the corner with the rest of the medical team while your dad gave his usual post-match speech and they all celebrated. When there was a break you caught Johnny asking you to come over to his cubby with a beckoning finger. 

“Hey what’s up? Ankle okay?” you asked him as you crouched down to examine his ankle.

He pulled it away though and leaned forward so he could whisper to you “It's fine, ready to execute phase two of our plan?”

“Phase two? I didn’t realise this was a multiphase plan” you said tilting your head. 

“We’ll use as many phases as needed” Johnny smirked “So what’s gonna happen is I’m gonna loudly invite you out to celebrate with us tonight”

“Like a date?” you asked. 

“Sure, but you’re gonna turn me down and say maybe another time” Johnny explained. 

You let out a small snort of laughter “Are you sure your ego can take that?” you smirked.

“It's a risk I’m willing to take, all we’re doing is confirming to Evans that he still has a chance but he has to act fast” Johnny elaborated “You’re gonna say that all you want is a night at home”

“So he knows where to find me” you realised. 

Johnny winked “Exactly, so get yourself home and put on some of your cute cosies you girls have, the ones that say you weren’t expecting visitors but will still send his blood south” he smirked. 

You let out a loud warm laugh at that, shaking your head at him “I like you Storm” you chuckled happy to know you had at least one friend on this team. 

“Everybody does, now you get home and get some” Johnny winked. 

As soon as you could you made your way home. You figured you had a bit of time to have a shower to freshen up and make sure you were ready for if and when Chris decided to show up. You then did as Johnny said and got into your best-looking cosies which consisted of a fluffy crop top and leggings. 

Then all you had to do was wait. 

And wait. And wait. 

You waited for so long that you were really starting to doubt Johnny’s plan. What if Chris had decided to go out with the team? Would Johnny try and convince him to go home? What if Chris decided to find someone else, did what Tommi suggested you do?

You needed something to drink. Opening the fridge you let out an irritated groan when you discovered that you were out of beer, all you had was a bottle of white wine which was not your preferred drink. It would have to though so you grabbed the bottle and poured yourself a large glass. 

Walking back to your couch you took a healthy glug to try to calm your nerves. You set it down on your coffee table so you wouldn’t drink it all in one go as you sat down, your leg bouncing nervously. Picking up your phone you considered maybe texting Chris, maybe you could phrase it in a way that looked like you were just checking if he was okay.

Before you could even think any further on that you heard your intercom buzz. You swallowed nervously and rose from the couch and made your way over to the intercom, taking a deep breath before pressing the button.

“Hello?” you said simultaneously hoping it was and wasn’t Chris.

“It's Chris… we need to talk” Chris responded making you breathe out a sigh of relief, at least you thought it was relief.

“Sure, c’mon up,” you said buzzing him in. 

You didn’t hear anything else from him to suggest he was actually coming up but nevertheless, you opened your apartment door and waited for him. As you did so you nervously wiped your hands on your leggings hoping you didn’t look as nervous as you felt. What if he was still pissed? What if he thought you were trying to get with Storm as was here to tell you to back off?

When he finally came into view you had to swallow and tell yourself to behave because he looked that good. He had clearly showered but not bothered to reapply any hair product because his fluffy brown hair was disheveled. He wore a navy zip-up hoodie which was a size or two too small going by the way it clung to his biceps. But his grey sweatpants were the real killer and you had to mentally remind yourself to look at his face.

Neither of you said anything as he stepped inside your apartment, his hands buried in his pockets. You barely moved after shutting the door, just watching as he stood there looking around at your apartment. 

“Less boxes” he finally said, his eyes finally finding you. 

“Yeah… thankfully” you said struggling to find anything else to say, the atmosphere quickly becoming awkward “Do you want a drink? I don’t have any beer, but I have wine” you said looking for an out, pointing at your wine glass. 

Chris shook his head “i’m good… you’re not expecting anyone are you?” he asked clearing his throat.

“No, I wasn’t, I’m not” you told him taking a couple of steps closer. 

Chris nodded his head pursing his lips “Just figured you’d invited Storm over” he said. 

His tone made your hackles rise, putting you on the defensive “Would it be a problem if I had?” you stated making Chris clench his jaw “Because you know we are two consenting adults, we don’t need permission to do what we want, we don’t need your permission, or my dad’s” 

“Oh, so you do want to sleep with him?” Chris fired back. 

“Why? Why do you care? Is that why you came here? To tell me to back off?” you demanded. 

“No” Chris growled. 

“Then why? Why are you here? What do you want?” you pressed walking over to him.

“I-” Chris started but you interrupted him again. 

“What do you want!” you pretty much shouted.

Chris just growls surging forward, his hand clasping the back of your head as he crashed his lips down onto yours. You instantly responded, kissing him back hungrily, your arm winding around his shoulders, your other hand gripping his hoodie tightly. He in turn pulled you closer hand moving to cup your ass, a groan escaping his lips when he squeezed it. 

“You’re such a bad idea” he groaned as he continued to kiss you. 

“Then why does it feel so right” you murmured as you tried to tug him back towards your bedroom but he wouldn’t budge. 

“Because you’re a drug” he muttered making you gasp in surprise when he turned you around, his hands placed firmly on your hips as he pressed kisses to your neck “All week I’ve wanted you, I thought I could deal with it myself but it wasn’t enough… I needed the real thing,” he said tugging your hips back into his so you could feel just how much he needed you. 

“I know… I felt the same” you gasped as he slipped one hand beneath the waistband of your leggings, fingers running over your core and feeling your arousal. 

“We shouldn’t do this” he murmured but still doesn’t stop, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in circles. 

Your head dropped back against his shoulder giving him perfect access to your neck. Your hands gripped his arms to keep yourself upright when he nipped at your pulse point only to soothe it with his tongue. 

“Don’t stop” you begged, your hips bucked up into his touch. 

“I don’t plan on it” he growled as he plunged his fingers into you. 

You let out a loud moan but it was silenced by his lips capturing yours once more. You all but melted into him, you would have completely fallen to the floor if he hadn’t wrapped his free arm around your waist, trapping you against him. 

You came in record time, moaning his name as you hit your peak. Your chest heaved and your vision turned hazy but you were pretty sure you were watching Chris lick your arousal off his fingers which only made more flood your core. He caught sight of you watching him, a smirk on his lips as you bit yours. 

Without saying anything he moved you so you were bent along the back on the couch, your leggings and underwear were soon tugged down and removed, thrown somewhere in your apartment. The anticipation was killing you as you heard Chris undress behind you and the tell-tale sign of a foil square being ripped into. 

It then went silent. All you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears and your heavy breathing as you waited for him to do something. After what felt like an eternity his hands ran over your hips and ass, massaging and squeezing your cheeks. He took his time, a moaning gasp escaping your lips when he decided to spank you once only to instantly soothe the stinging with a kiss.

He then kicks your legs further apart before stepping closer and lining himself up. You tried to fight back the moan at the feeling of just his tip pressing against you. He then went still and all you could hear was his heavy breathing as if he was trying to hold himself back. 

You didn’t want that though, it had been the longest week in existence and you needed him now. You didn’t want him to hold himself back, you wanted him hard and fast, you needed the release only he could give you. There’d be time to go slower another time. 

He must have been reading your mind or you were thinking out loud again as he then slams into you with so much force you nearly went over the top of the couch. He didn’t give you a moment to recover and you didn’t want it either because this was exactly what you wanted, what you fantasised. 

“Fuck you feel so good” Chris groaned as he thrusts deeply into you, his hands gripping your hips tightly leaving his mark on you “How could I possibly think I could stay away” he muttered more to himself than to you. 

His words made your back arch as you gripped the couch and ground back against him. Getting that confirmation that you had the same effect on him that he did on you was the biggest turn-on that existed. 

Chris took advantage of your arched back reaching around to slip his hand under your fuzzy crop top to cup your breast. Pulling a loud moan from you as he played and pulled at your sensitive peak. 

“Ch-chris I-” you moaned unable to form a coherent sentence. 

“Hold on, I’m not done with you yet” Chris groaned as he placed a kiss to your spine “Not yet” he repeats when you let out a pleading whimper. 

You did what you were told, trying to hold on for as long as Chris wanted you to, talking yourself back down from the edge that you so desperately wanted to jump off. You held on until it was impossible, grabbing Chris’ hand and directing him towards your clit but he pulled his hand away before you got the touch you needed. 

“Ah, ah, ah, did I say you could cum?” Chris asked leaning down to whisper in your ear. 

“Please” you begged gripping his wrist. 

“Please what?” Chris pushed moving his hand closer to where you wanted it. 

“Please Chris, just please” you pleaded. 

Chris didn’t say anything making you whimper only to gasp when he placed a kiss to your shoulder as he finally found your clit and brought you to the peak you were desperately chasing. You came with a loud moan your walls clenching and pulsating around him, you were so high in the clouds that you were only faintly aware of Chris hitting his peak just after you. Your only indicator being the feeling of his weight over you as he finished.

Your vision began to clear as you felt Chris pull out of you. You continued to recover, catching your breath as you heard Chris moving around your apartment behind you. 

You were about to push yourself up to stand when you felt Chris’ hand run gently up your back. Looking over your shoulder you saw the gentle expression on his face as he helped you stand before leading you around to the front of the couch. 

You watched as he lay down on the couch before pulling you down to lay on top of him, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. Your hand rested on his chest as you looked down at him and tried to understand the expression on his face. You knew there was stuff you needed to talk about, work out exactly what this arrangement was but you didn’t want to ruin this moment just yet.

So you just rested your head down on his chest and ran your hand over his chest “What are you doing tomorrow?” you asked quietly. 

Chris hummed “nothing…why?”

You lifted your head again to look back down at him “Congratulations, you’ve been awarded membership to the most exclusive club in Boston” 

A lopsided grin grew on his face “About time” he chuckled as he cupped your cheek and kissed you.

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[cal-daisies-and-briars]

NEW FIC

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YEAH!

129 for ❄️:

---

“Oh,” Buck blinks. “I thought therapy was Mondays.”

“It is,” Eddie confirms. “There are other kinds of appointments, you know.”

Buck waits for Eddie to elaborate, but it doesn’t come. 

“Ah,” Buck eventually nods. “That kind of massage.”

“Ugh,” Eddie groans, rolling his eyes. “Fuck off.”

Buck smirks.

“Sunday, okay?” Eddie says. “Can we hang out Sunday?” 

Something flickers across Buck’s expression. Too quickly for Eddie to read it.

“Absolutely,” Buck smiles eventually. “Sunday it is.”

iv.

“It was a tragedy, really, that did it,” Charlie explains. 

He’s the first person to volunteer to answer Jodie’s question. Eddie thinks he’s sort of brave. Jodie’s question isn’t easy. Eddie’s not sure where he’d even start. What was the thing - the event or decision - that made you want to make this change? 

That’s trickier than it sounds, right? She’s not asking, when did you know you were gay, exactly. This isn’t as cut and dry as it was for Buck. No, well one day a guy came up and kissed me and I thought, yep, liked that, too. Though, he’s sure it is more complicated for Buck. Just, sometimes Eddie envies that Buck went from not knowing to knowing, like a light switch. There was no knowing and then trying desperately not to know. 

Jodie isn’t asking, when did you know? She’s asking, when did you stop trying not to know? When did you stop ignoring it? Why have you quit trying to shove it down, lock it away, and look in the opposite direction? And that’s a more complicated question. 

“A series of tragedies, actually,” Charlie continues. “My mother died. Ovarian cancer. Two years later, I lost my brother and his family. He was an addict and… Well, it was bad. Really bad. I was lost. I didn’t understand him. Hated him, really. Had for a long time, and I felt guilt for hating him. My wife - uh, my ex now - she’s the one who suggested I go to Al-Anon.”

Eddie understands guilt and anger and the endless spiral they can create. Not that it’s ever been related to addiction in his own life. But he thinks he can understand how a space for that might have been healthy. Might have kept him out of other spaces. Like cage fights, for example. 

“It all kind of spiraled from there, I guess. In figuring out a way to have empathy for everything my brother had been trying to drink away, I guess I sort of opened a can of worms. All the things I’d forced myself not to look at. Couldn’t put the lid back on it.”

Eddie can’t put a lid back on it either. That’s why he’s here, right? His attempts have failed. Badly. His attempts to put a lid on it sent his son packing for another state. Even he didn’t exactly recognize them for what they were, at the time.

“Six months after starting Al-Anon, I asked my wife for a divorce. She thought I’d lost my mind,” Charlie says. “It didn’t go well. Broke the kids’ hearts. I never explained it to them. That’s still… A problem. It’s been almost ten years.”

Panic grips Eddie’s chest. Ten years? Charlie’s relationship with his kids has been fractured for ten years? Eddie can’t do that. He can’t let that be him. Christopher has been gone not even a full month at this point and he feels like he’s dying a little bit every day. What would a decade do to him? Chris, almost twenty-four and still hating Eddie? Eddie would die. He would wither and die. 

“Eddie,” Jodie says. Eddie flinches at being perceived. “You just had quite a reaction to what Charlie said. Why is that?”

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles. “It’s nothing.”

Charlie’s face tightens, and Eddie realizes he must think he’s being judged. That Eddie thinks he’s a bad dad or something. Shit. 

“I just…” Eddie starts again, trying to repair any unintentional damage. “My son isn’t talking to me either, right now. So I… Uh, empathize. That’s all.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Charlie replies. A little stiff, but Eddie can hear the relief in his voice. 

Eddie nods. 

“Eddie, would you like to go next?” Jodie asks.

Fuck. Why couldn’t Eddie just keep his damn face still?

“No,” Eddie admits, earning himself a chuckle from the other participants. “But, uh, I guess I will.”

“Thank you,” Jodie replies patiently. 

Eddie takes a deep breath. He doesn’t really want to tell this story. It makes him seem deranged. Unhinged. Like a bad person, even. He doesn’t think he’s a bad person. But what if they all hear his story and think that he is?

“Uh…” Eddie starts, trailing off. 

Charlie gives him a little nod. Encouraging him forward. Eddie feels a little surge of reassurance. Right. Charlie shared his story and probably thought the same way. Because, on the surface, it looks sort of similar, doesn’t it? A guy blowing up his life. Hurting a woman who loved him. Hurting his children. They aren’t that different. And Eddie doesn’t think Charlie is a bad person at all.

“So…” Eddie takes a deep breath. 

He’s not sure where to start, actually. Does he start with thoughts he tried to shove away and pray away as a teenager? Does he start with getting Shannon pregnant? Does he start with her dying?

[asgardian--angels]

Talking on the phone with my mom I finally broke down and cried thoroughly about the cancellation. I think I'd been holding it in for the last two days, or two months. And honestly I've been wondering all along why this show means so much to me. I am not queer, I am not neurodivergent, I am not POC or disabled or any of the groups that this show has been so important for in terms of representation and being treated with respect and dignity. I understand and completely empathize with all of you, and fight for this show and your rights worldwide alongside you, but it still left me wondering why I myself have latched onto Our Flag Means Death. I suppose part of it is that despite being white and cishet and the privileges that have always come with that, I have been treated like an outsider and ostracized my entire childhood and teenage years, for being ugly and having "disgusting" interests (primarily liking insects, reptiles, other creepy-crawlies - aka the thing I literally do for my career now). I was bullied relentlessly from preschool through early college and became a very lonely introverted person - I still am. Undoubtedly Our Flag Means Death gave me renewed hope that I haven't missed some key window for finding love or relationships of any kind that matter, as I sit here typing this at age 28 having never dated anyone.

But it had to be more than that. And with everything that's happened the past couple of months, and the last few days, I think it finally clicked for me.

Followers of my blog may or may not know that I am a conservation biologist, or pollinator ecologist, whichever hat fits best on a given day, they're quite close. I don't make many original posts like this anymore on here because my job is so busy. Basically, I do a variety of things - academic research, habitat management & restoration, and public outreach - to try and preserve biodiversity and ecosystems on our planet. I'm just going to say it: it's a thankless job. Nothing we do ever feels like it's enough, and burnout is common in our field because we sit with the guilt of feeling like we are the only thing between survival and utter destruction of planet Earth, and work ourselves to exhaustion. It's one of those jobs where your work is your life, and your passion is your work, and it's inseparable from who you are on a molecular level. We are often faced, on a large scale, with hostility, from people that don't believe in science and are more than happy to pull a shotgun on us, or rich old men in power who are content to watch the world burn for another penny in their bank account. There are days when sometimes it sinks in just how bad things are, and it's terrifying, and I feel like we will never be able to do enough, to change enough, before it gets catastrophic. It's paralyzing.

My ability to do my job is dependent on hope. Unwavering, unrelenting hope. Hope beyond hope. We have to believe what we're doing matters, otherwise we'd fall down and never get back up again. I'm no big-shot, I give talks to a few hundred people at a time, and make urban pollinator habitat on a local scale. Is any of that going to make a difference compared to the ramifications of a single oil mogul deciding to cut corners and cause an oil spill that kills millions of seabirds and damages ocean food chains for decades to come? If people in my field let thoughts like that linger, we'd be paralyzed to inaction. I have to hope that the people I teach choose to do something good with that knowledge, and go on to inspire others, or that the patch of habitat I make allows a declining species to maintain a foothold instead of going locally extinct. You just have to keep going.

And Our Flag Means Death got wrapped up in that for me. The Stede Bonnet effect, if you will. He set out to do pirating differently, treating his crew with respect and helping them grow. In return, they internalized that mindset, and it spread to how they interacted with others. It changed the trajectory of individual lives, and also at least began to change how the society of pirates operated as a whole. It was a beacon of hope that choosing small acts of kindness did matter, even if you yourself could not see the ripples it made. It renewed my faith that love persevered and would win. That we could all make life a little better for each other and ourselves through kindness, compassion, forgiveness, and mutual support. I think a good chunk of that is from Taika - these are running themes in his projects, and his films move me deeply for that. This show became in some, perhaps subconscious way, a source of strength for me to keep putting myself out there in my line of work to do whatever I was capable of to help the cause.

The cancellation was devastating, but the second cancellation (turbohell cancelation?) was even more so. Because now it's so clear that this is largely the work of David Zaslav and the regime he's built. It's petty, it's greedy, and more than anything, it's cruel. Indifferently, indiscriminately cruel, when one person at the top can have such power to make or break the lives of thousands, millions, beneath them, and though it would have been barely a drop in the bucket, a hand wave, to renew our show or let it pass to another streamer, he actively chose to shackle it to this sinking Titanic of a company WBD has become. I have always operated on the belief that you can do anything if you work hard enough at it, and believed deep down that there was some order, some justice in the universe, atheist though I be. We as a fandom did everything we possibly could, we loved this show harder than anything. The numbers were there, the awards nominations were there, the critic praise was there, and we were loud and loyal every single day. I felt like we could do this - how could we not win when we've done so much, and the show deserves it so much? Surely cause and effect will prevail.

This fight seemed small, though really it wasn't; we fought for the right of artists and creators to make quality, original stories and have them told to their natural end, we fought for diversity representation to be more than a token character - OFMD raised the bar so much higher on all fronts, we fought to shed light on the chaos and impending collapse of this industry silencing art and exploiting writers, actors, and all manner of production workers. It was a small fight from the outside, one that I really felt we could win. And I put my heart and soul into it, because if we could win this, if we could save this simple, kind love story about two guys on a boat, then maybe there was hope for the bigger, badder stuff too. It shouldn't seem an insurmountable task for several thousand fans to convince a streaming service that they'd turn a tidy profit to give our show one more season.

Yet we lost - through no fault of our own. I am so proud of us. But that really struck deep for me. If one peabrained CEO of a media company wouldn't budge on greenlighting a show that was in his every best interest business-wise - perhaps enough to even save Max from going under in the not-too-distant future - my god, what hope was there for changing anything bigger? The 'real' problems of the world? When no amount of ethos, logos, or pathos can penetrate these men at the top, where's that hope to fight? Lately the world seems like it's just going belly up all over. If we gave everything we could, and it still wasn't enough - if it could never be enough - what hope is there? It's like chaining yourself to a tree and the bulldozer plowing right on ahead. And I think that broke something in me. It shook me to my foundations because it broke my rules of how things are supposed to work. We believed hard enough, we worked tirelessly, and we deserved it for how important this show was to so many people. And it didn't matter. Our best wasn't enough. And that caused an avalanche of all of the horrible, scary things piled on my shoulders - we're losing the Amazon rainforest too fast to save, climate change is going to turn the corn belt into a dustbowl by mid-century, a border wall is going to devastate imperiled wildlife in Texas, deforestation and hurricanes on songbird wintering grounds could lead to entire species extinctions, saltmarshes are our lifeline and they're shrinking and we're still building stupid concrete stormwalls, invasive diseases will completely alter the composition of our forests to be unrecognizable to our children, and if you don't make every slide of this powerpoint utterly perfect and you fail to convince every single person in attendance to get rid of their lawn then you've failed and the world is doomed.

I've struggled with being a perfectionist my whole life. This didn't help.

That's where I was a couple hours ago. But I took some deep breaths. I know the world isn't fair. But I really thought if we could win this one battle, then we could win the war.

But here's what I realized. Everything we did mattered. It mattered so much. Because there's the show, and then there's everything that was birthed out of that show. The community, so many of us around the world who have been uplifted by Our Flag Means Death in a real and lasting way that we will take with us and spread to affect those around us. The Stede Bonnet effect goes global. We raised thousands and thousands of dollars for charities around the world, real people whose lives have been improved, or maybe even saved, because of us and this silly pirate show. We brought a hell of a lot of attention to WBD and their shitty practices, keeping the momentum going in a way that I think is only going to build - and I sure hope it leads to Zaslav getting deposed. We have demanded more queer stories, more BIPOC stories, more disabled and autistic and middle-aged stories, stories with exquisite costumes and award-worthy wigs, dear lord, and we are being heard. We have expressed such love and support for the cast and crew, showing them that we appreciate their hard work and that we will be behind them in their future projects. So many of them have told us how the show and its fans have changed their lives. We convinced Rhys that his career isn't winding down but winding up, and to be unapologetic about his wonderful weirdness - we've proven to everyone through this show that your weirdness is what someone out there is going to love you for, not in spite of. We rallied to help writers and actors during the strikes in a way that was taken to heart and remembered. We have been out here talking it through as a crew, and turning poison into positivity, for over two years now, and that impact is permanent. They can cancel our show, they can try and slap copyright notices on our fan merch, and spew bullshit excuses about the numbers not being there. But Our Flag Means Death sparked a movement, the biggest pirate crew the world has ever seen, using our power for good.

We may not have any more new material for our show for a while, or ever. But I maintain hope that when the dust has settled and streaming has entered its 'new era' that they'll remember us and throw us a lifeline. Because hope is a part of my genetic makeup, and even in cancellation my hope has been renewed that the fight is worth fighting, that our individual choices of kindness are having an effect, and making the world a little easier to live in bit by bit. No one can take from us what we have built out of this show. And thanks to pirating, they can't take the actual show from us either. Despite this, no matter the outcome, I am so happy we got two seasons of this wonderful series. That was more than almost anyone expected. The story belongs to all of us, and it will always live on. We did not truly lose this battle, because in the process we gained more than we could have ever imagined. And I know there's still so much more to come. That gives me the strength to keep doing what I do, every day.

To me, Our Flag Means Hope.

[neeweekeewee]

HEALER FATESPEAKER AU

An alternate universe where Fatespeaker becomes a healer and a therapist at Jade Mountain Academy. Due to her having weak mind reading abilities, she is considered to be an empath. When she arrived at the Night Kingdom, she was overwhelmed with sadness over seeing the condition of her tribemates, feeling helpless that she couldn’t do anything to help alleviate them of their injuries, diseases, and emotional misery. After Flame gets injured by Viper’s venomous tail barb, she becomes extremely distraught and full of grief over his life threatening injury. She would check on him periodically when she wasn’t helping Starflight. She became interested in healing when she was watching the healers do their work. While in the rainforest, she was was overwhelmed with fear, grief, and helplessness over Starflight’s injuries. She promised herself that she would anything she could to save those around her, so that she never feels helpless again. Since a whole other tribe is now living in the rainforest, the RainWing healers needed extra help. She was brought on as an apprentice to help out the healers with the sudden influx of patients. Due to her weak mind reading ability, she can sense emotions of the patients around her. She is a natural at healing due to her sheer passion and interest to learn and her bubbly and extroverted personality. She feels as though she has found her calling. She was proud to forge her own path and not be just a “back up Dragonet of Destiny”. There were already Dragonets of Destiny. And they were good enough. She was glad to be helping dragons and saving lives in a different way.

Flame is the first to wake up from his injury, he is still very weak from the potency of the venom. Fatespeaker comes to care for him. He is hostile and skeptical at first, refusing to let her touch him and told her to get away from him. Due to how busy the healer hut was, no one was available to help dress his wounds. He watched Fatespeaker care for other patients. He sees how sweet, bubbly, and energetic she is with them. It’s almost as if she’s able to sense their pain and negative emotions without them even saying anything or showing it. She was running in every direction, attending to every patient as quickly as she could, which was much quicker than all of the other healers. Flame’s wound was becoming more and more painful until he was writhing in his bed in agony. Fatespeaker immediately responds, not able to handle feeling his misery anymore. He continues to act extremely rude to her which finally makes her snap at him, saying: “I have never once said anything nasty or bad about you. I have always treated you kindly even when you were rude or when you would call me names. For moon’s sake can you just be kind to me for one day?” “I can tell you’re in a lot of pain, there is no other healer available right now so you’re stuck with me. Even though you are a really rude dragon, I cannot stand to see you suffer like this, just clamp your jaws shut and let me do my job.”

Surprised by her firmness in her tone and the tears in her eyes, he listens to her. He started feeling guilty for treating her with disrespect for so long, realizing that she was never once rude to him or even muttered a negative comment about him.

After coming to this realization, he started being more kind to her; allowing her to dress his wound and check up on him. The healer hut was often boring, he started to miss his mother quite a ton. When Fatespeaker would sense his deep loneliness, she would often stop by to keep him company. Even when she was super busy, if she sensed that Flame was upset in any way, she would come to help cheer him up. This helped build a close bond between them both. They started making inside jokes, and having long conversations when Fatespeaker had a break. Flame started missing her badly when she wasn’t around, especially at night. He would even get jealous when other patients got more attention than he did, especially when it came to Starflight, who was still unconscious at the time. Fatespeaker wasn’t oblivious to this, since she could sense his jealousy. She felt giddy inside for some reason that someone wanted her attention so badly. No dragon has ever had feelings for her before. It also warmed her heart that she finally built a bond with one of the members of her group and that her care had been helping heal their wound.

The moment Flame knew he loved Fatespeaker was when his mother came to visit him during his stay at the healer’s hut. She thanked Fatespeaker relentlessly for nursing him back to health. The two hit it off very well, talking for hours it seemed.

The moment Fatespeaker knew she loved Flame was when he became interested in her field of work after she nursed him back to health. He became her assistant healer. He also tried his best to work on his temper because he knows she doesn’t like it.

When Starflight woke up, he was bewildered to find out that Flame was working beside Fatespeaker to help heal him.

After the end of the war, Flame and Fatespeaker were the healers and therapists for the students. Occasionally, they travel to other tribes to help out. Flame is also a part time student to learn better skills on tolerance of other tribes.

[pupkinpumpkin]

Cole appreciation post

I love Cole so much, I genuinely think about this man multiple times a week.

My brother got me into DAI and the first time, I missed Cole's backstory and general context because my brother was the one playing and I couldn't watch him all the time, so I kinda thought he was like a telepath empath spirit dude who was really nice but didn't know how exactly to help sometimes

Then, I played by myself and I did the small "Odd Things" side quest where you hear people talk about odd things happening and them forgetting who exactly did it. So, I went to him and I eventually, with the help of a wiki with only one spoiler, I figured it out

And my dude, the amount that I held myself back from crying

Someone complains of a person they don't remember putting plums on the windowsill which attracts flies

You ask Cole about this and he says the plums don't mind. Odd, but whatever

Then you hear a woman talk about how lucky it is that there are more spiders, which means more spiderwebs to help the wounded

Rotting plums means more flies, means more spiders, means more spiderwebs, means more stuff to heal people who are injured

You hear a soldier complain that someone is taking daggers and putting them in barrels

Cole comments that they're safer there

A woman tells someone how she's a lot less scared in Skyhold now that the guards are fighting each other less. When they had their daggers, they'd threaten each other and get into fights

Cole is protecting both the soldiers and the people from harming or being harmed

In the kitchen, someone mentions mint and cheese being taken

In the tavern, a girl laughs about a cat acting funny and chasing a mouse, and how much it made her laugh

Go to the kitchen, and a maid says how the cook is in a good mood

Mice like cheese, cats like mice, and the catmint (probably) made the cat act weird, which made people laugh, including the cook.

Cole says the cook has been so stressed since Haven, and how the flames from the oven remind her of everything that happened, the people that died. By doing this, she forgot for a little bit. Enjoyed herself.

You don't know how much of this side quest almost made me cry

He just wants to help, he literally just wants to help

When I made him human, there's a cutscene at a restaurant and he laughs

Do you know how beautiful it is to hear a person laugh for the first time? For one of, if not the only time in the entirety of Dragon Age Inquisition

I try so fucking hard to remember him when I'm mad or pissed off because he wouldn't want me mad. He wants to help. A lot of the time, it doesn't work. I still ignore people, I still scream, I still get stressed, I still get annoyed at being told to do something I don't want to do even though I'm just watching a video, I still cry at night, but it helps sometimes. It just helps to know someone cares and wants you to feel and be better, even if they may not exist

I don't know why, but he's just so good, so kind and that is something that is so beautiful to me

I fucking love Cole, he is quite literally all that is good in the world and his existence matters so much to me

I could talk about him way way more but I'm about to walk in the rain, thank you and goodnight