#their titles in all caps stresses me out

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Hold On You 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, bullying, depression, controlling and abusive behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you try to look on the bright side of life but a man comes along to blot out the sun.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: Thank you all for feeding into this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

It’s a nice day to get out. One of the last sunny days of autumn. You can smell the soil and leaves and hear the call of pumpkin spice. Maybe on your way back. 

You can’t spend another day inside. Not after the week you’ve had. Besides, once the winter hits, you’ll have more than enough reason not to go past your front door. You’re going to make the most of your day off. More so, you’re going to keep your mind busy so it doesn’t fall back into the pit. 

It feels good to move around. Between hunching at your cubicle desk and squinting over your dining room table, that crick in your neck needs to be ironed out. You have to remind yourself to stand up straight as the muscles tug between your shoulder blades. 

You stop and turn to face the record shop. As you do, you’re nearly bowled over by another pedestrian. You hadn’t realised they were so close behind you. You back up and apologise but the man doesn’t even look at you as he veers toward the front door. The bell jingle as he enters with a huff, the back of his dark jacket a vague splotch in your vision. 

Oop. You’re in the way. Again. You do your best not to do that. You never want to stir the waters or be a bump in the road but somehow you always find a way to do that. No good comes from wallowing in it. As stressful as it can be to brave the public and its unpredictability, a smile keeps you from falling apart. 

You approach the shop and swing open the door. Oof, it’s much heavier than that man made it look. You greet the associate behind the counter with a beaming morning and ‘hello?’ He asks how you are and you give the easy answer; ‘good, how are you?’ He responds with the same empty courtesy. 

You look around the covers and the little signs that delineate every genre. Before you can get into all that, you need the most important piece of all. A record player. For as long as you’ve been waiting to set foot in the shop, you’ve been saving up for the player. 

You near the table stacked with varying shades of suitcase players. You read up on each brand and style. It will be best to tuck away when you’re not using it. Your small apartment is already too cluttered. 

You pick a lilac player with little white roses stamped over the cover. It’s on sale. A sign above proclaims that you can get twenty percent off three or more records when you by a player. Well, how about that? It isn’t all doom and gloom. 

You hug the player under your arm and near the shelves mounted to the walls. You peruse the titles intently. Something new? Something you know? You definitely don’t want to get just one genre.  

As you sidle along, the corner of the box knocks against something. You look back and another ‘sorry’ bubbles from your lips. It’s that man again. He’s browsing the end cap behind you and growls at your apology. You stare at him for a moment, he seems at home in a place like this. 

“Um, excuse me, sir,” you say, “do you have any recommendations?” 

He grumbles and puts the album back in its slot. He looks over his shoulder with detest curled into his lip. The stone chiseled into his jaw makes you gulp. 

“What?” He scowls. 

“Sorry, I didn’t... I was only... curious. Have a good day, sir.” 

“Good? What’s good about it?” He hisses. You wince and move to the next section. Not far enough as he sighs, “you know, you wouldn’t like my taste anyway. Stick to your girly pop.” 

You resist a frown. You’re not going to let someone like that bring you down. You can tell that he looks for the worst in everything and everyone. You wouldn’t judge someone by their appearance but his demeanour says as much as his words. You won’t add to his cynicism but bothering him further. 

You pick out an Etta James album that you recognise. Your grandmother had the same one. You think your mother snatched it up after she passed. You didn’t get much from the inheritance. As it is, you’d rather have your grandma back. Someone to talk to. 

You move on to the rock section. There’s hair metal and classic rock and grunge and all sorts. You’re not unfamiliar with the genre but you don’t want to be too obvious.  

A scuff startles you and you glance over at the man in the dark jacket. He seems familiar. His short brown hair, his stubbly jaw, and his intensity trigger something in your head. You definitely don’t know him. Everyone you know is too busy for you. 

“Probably don’t even know how to use the damn thing,” he snips under his breath as he gets closer. 

You realise he’s talking about you. It’s no good arguing. You’ve met his kind before. Back when your friends had the time of day for you, you met that type at their parties. You avoided them. 

You leave the aisle. You don’t want to be in his way, though it seems no matter what you do, you are. You find yourself exactly where he predicted. Well, who cares? It’s all a matter of brain chemistry, right? You don’t get to choose what you like, you just like it. It makes your brain happy and heaven knows you need more of that. 

You pick out another favourite then head over to new release. You’ve never heard Sabrina Carpenter. You’ll give it a try. 

You approach the counter and as you do, another sigh storms through the shop. The man’s behind you. Oh no, had you cut him off? 

“You want to go ahead of me?” You ask as you keep your haul in your arms. 

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, a single record in his hand; The Boswell Sisters. You’ve never heard of them but it really doesn’t look like heavy metal. You turn back to the cashier and smile, “hello, um, this is it.” 

You put your things up as the man returns your smile. He asks if you want a bag and you say, ‘yes, please’. Things might not be perfect but it doesn’t mean you can’t try to make them better. And if a smile and manners can brighten someone else’s day, that alone makes yours a little sunnier. 

🪢

The box for the player has a little plastic handle. You’re happy for that as it makes your journey to cafe a little easier. You stand in line with your paper bag and bulky box and move along until it’s your turn. You order the pumpkin spice but think better of double up with the pumpkin cream muffin; you instead opt for the apple cinnamon with the chunks you can see through the top. 

Patiently, you stand by the wall until your order comes up. You crinkle around the other customers and claim it, balancing it all delicately toward an empty table. You tuck the box underneath and lean the bag against it. 

You tear apart the muffin, dividing the bottom from the top. You peel back the liner and eat the former first, pinching morsels between your fingers. You don’t know why you do it that way, you just always have.  

You taste the pumpkin spice. It’s good. Not too spicy at all. It tastes like real pumpkin. Considering the place is local, it might very well be. You pop the lid off to reveal the mostly melted cream and have another sip. 

You wipe the dairy mustache from your upper lip with a napkin and your eyes flick up to meet another pair. Not far from you, that man stands with his hands in his pockets. He’s waiting by the order window for his own delight. Well, that’s great. Maybe it will cheer him up. 

He glowers until you look through the window. Or not. The baristas call out a black coffee as you chew on the brim of the paper cup. You stare out into New York traffic and feel yourself getting smaller. It’s easy to feel lost in the city. 

As you watch through the window, a dark figure passes before it. You lift your gaze and again find yourself at the mercy of that man’s grim snarl. You quickly turn back to your latte. He must’ve had that black coffee. He might do with a bit of sugar. 

You try not to think about it. You don’t know him. You don’t know his problems. Just like anyone else. People don’t know that you feel heavy when you wake up or that you spend your hours keeping your hands busy so you don’t have to think. They only know the woman with the smile and the chipper voice and just as swiftly forget about her. 

You pick away at the muffin, savouring in each bite. You’re thankful for that. For that moment. You have coffee and a nice dessert and you got your record player. It's best not to think about all the existential stuff you can’t change. It will come back later when you’re alone. It can wait until then. 

🪢

Your walk home sees the sun hiding behind the clouds. The downpour begins a block away from your building and soaks you through. You keep your head down against the sheets of rain and hurry up the walk as the front door comes in sight. 

The elevator is out of order. Again. You climb the stairs in your squeaky soles and finally reach your apartment. You push inside and kick off your sodden shoes and peel away your jacket. The turtleneck beneath is just as drenched. 

You don’t strip down right away. You’re more concerned with your prizes. The records are fine, the covers just a bit damp, and the player doesn’t seem to have taken too much water. You leave it all on the counter and go to change into your favourite fuzzy pajamas. 

You come back out to the front room and stop to admire the slake of rain pelleting against the large windows. It might be dreary but it’s beautiful in its own way. You let the tempo lull you as you unpack the player and set it up on the book shelf.  

You slide the Etta James record from its sleeve and lay it on the player, moving the needle into place. You let it play as you back up, the boisterous tones of the legend melding perfectly with the raindrops. You smile; not the put-upon smile you wear for strangers but a smile of nostalgia and calm. You miss your grandma terribly but the music doesn’t make you sad. 

You go to the table, still messy from last night’s work. It never is clear. You always have scraps and bits littered over it, your sewing machine a permanent fixture on the worn wood. You sit and pick up the felt clump and go back to needling it to a discernible shape. 

Your brows nearly meet in the middle for your focus and it isn’t until the record begins to skip that you sit up. That damn kink is back. Your own fault. Can’t be mad at anyone but yourself. 

You flip the record and let it play out. When it’s over, you shut off the player. You eat the leftovers you’ve been parsing out for the week and settle in for your favourite romcom. It’s cheesy and a little lame but you only have to keep yourself happy. Or try to. 

You leave your plate on the coffee table and hunker down to finish the movie. You’re tired when it’s over but know you won’t sleep. So you go back to the table and work as the rain slows to a lazy rhythm. Your eyelids droop, your shoulders too, but you persist. 

The windows grow dark and there is only the distant shine of streetlights and few windows in the neighbouring buildings. You stare out at the blurring haze and it fades to a deep grey. You wake leaning back in the chair, your head hanging off your neck. You groan as you sit up and curse your carelessness. 

It won’t make work any less intolerable. You check the time ticking away on the clock that came with the apartment. You can get another hour or two. You get up and trod off to bed, not bothering to shut off the lights. You don’t sleep well in the pitch black. 

You fall into bed and just as quickly find yourself unbearable awake. All those little doubts and fears rise up to the surface and have you drowning just below. This is why you end up sleeping upright or folded over. Trying never works for you. Not at anything. 

[multifandomgirl08]

From Three to Four [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Wife!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: Reader tells Max that your expecting, he doesn't have the best reaction at first.

Warning(s): Slight angst, Flashback to four months before

A/N: This one is a little shorter then normal. It's set before the third social media posts of The Verstappens but takes place before Stones To Throw At My Creator.

Words: 1.6k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

You had suspected before you had been sure. There were no signs that you could be pregnant other than the obvious. Making the appointment was the most nerve-wracking thing. Waiting for the results was stressful, but the confirmation took a bit of the pressure off.

You stared at the sonogram pictures again before placing them back in your bag.

You heard Max coming up the stairs into the kitchen where you had been waiting for him to see the box that you had left for him.

“What’s this?” Max asked picking up the wrapped box.

“Open it,” Your eyes rested on Max to see his reaction to what was in the box.

He ripped into the wrapping paper and pulled the top off the box before seeing a little Red Bull onesie. You had taken the time to go online and order one as soon as your test results had come back from your doctor.

Max was quick to drop the box and the onesie on the kitchen counter.

“I..” Max tried to get out. His expression was too blank for your liking. “I wasn't expecting this.”

"I know that it's sooner than what we talked about." You immediately said.

"I just… didn't think that we'd have them so soon." He looked so lost.

You and Max had talked about waiting for a year or two before the possibility of trying for a baby. He had just won a fourth world title and was in pursuit of a fifth, you understood that.

January 10, 2025 - Saint-Jean Cap Ferret, France

From the moment that you had woken up that morning, you had been unpacking boxes. You started in the kitchen having finished putting the last of the cups and dishes away just before Nico had come in asking about lunch.

You had made him a sandwich and taken a few bites of the leftovers from dinner yesterday because you didn’t feel like cooking after putting all of the pots and pans away.

Max had been in one of the spare bedrooms getting his racing sim all setup. It had been the last thing that had been packed and moved and unfortunately for Max, it was the last thing that was brought into the house after all of the furniture. He wasn’t happy about it sitting in the garage for a week.

After eating, you had finally gotten to the boxes that lined the built-in bookshelves that would house Max’s ever-growing collection of trophies. You were down to the last two boxes when you heard footsteps coming up the stairs from the lower part of the house.

Looking over, you saw Max come into the kitchen and take a Red Bull out of the fridge. You glanced back down at the trophy in your hands, seeing the little plaque on it, the words Spain 2016 on it.

You heard the clang of the Red Bull can against the marble of the kitchen counter.

"Mijn leeuwin?" You heard Max turning your head towards him.

His hands went to your hips pulling you back against his chest. "What are you thinking about?"

You lightly shook your head. The more that you unpacked things, you couldn't help but think of the possibility of having kids with Max. He was such a good dad to Nico, and you knew that you eventually wanted to give Max more kids.

"Tell me." He whispered into your ear. That was always his way of getting you to tell him things when you didn't feel like you could.

You turned in his arms to look at him, "What do you think about Nico eventually getting a sibling?"

“Checo and Daniel had asked me this." You hadn't realized that Max was already thinking of the possibility of you getting pregnant.

“And…” You wanted to know what Max thought about this. Sure, you would be the one to have the baby but you wanted to make sure that you were both on the same page about when would be a good time.

“And I told them that one day we would have more but not now.”

You nodded along with Max’s words. He was right, one day you would have more kids, but it didn’t make sense for it to be now. You had just moved, and the wedding was in less than a month. Any children could wait until after.

“Maybe in a year or two?” You asked.

“Maybe,” Max said before pulling the trophy from your hands and placing it on one of the empty shelves.

“For now,” He pulled you into his arms. “I want to enjoy all the free practice that I can.”

“Yeah?” You asked. He quickly nodded back as you let yourself melt into his arms.

He took your hand pulling you away from the boxes towards the master bedroom, getting a small practice session in before you had to start dinner.

It seemed like life or fate, whichever one had different plans for you. 

You walked closer to him pressing yourself up against his chest, trying to ground him back to you. It didn't take long for him to place his arms around your waist, his hands not traveling down to your hips like they normally would.

“What’s going on Max?” You asked. You weren’t sure why he was having this reaction. Whenever you had talked about having kids before he seemed excited. He didn’t seem that way now.

“I… I, just. I wasn’t there when Nico was born or with my ex when she was pregnant with him.”

Max had never referred to his ex as Nico’s mother. You had accepted that she was just the woman that gave birth to him. That had been easy to accept when you had found out that she had given up her parental rights to him. When you signed the adoption paperwork, something settle inside of you.

“Max,” You reached for his hand to place it on your lower abdomen. You could feel the strain in his hand, he wanted to pull away. “Max,” You started again. “You’re already a great father to Nico.”

“It’s not that. I thought that the first time that you would get pregnant I wouldn’t be driving anymore. I could be home and experience all of it this time around.” Everytime that you and Max had talked about him retiring, it had always seemed like he intended to finish his current contract with Red Bull before that happened.

“Max there is nothing stopping you from driving and us having more kids.” You offered up.

You moved your hands up to Max’s neck, pulling his head down to meet yours.

“You have done everything right by Nico since the day that he’s come into your life. Moving around your schedule so that you can be there for his first day of school, putting off an endorsement deal so that you would be there the day that he started karting.” Max finally looked down at you as you kept talking. “You have been there for all the major moments of his life, spending every moment that you can with him. Besides your not going to want to spend every moment of this pregnancy with me when I’m hormonal and get emotional for no reason.”

Max broke out in a laugh at your last sentence before he started to nod.

“You are an amazing father, this baby is going to be lucky to be raised by you.” You reached up to cup his cheek.

“Really?” He asked with baited breath.

You nodded. You could feel Max’s hands go lax under the fabric of your clothes, his fingertips just lightly tracing over the non-existent bump.

“That means no more free practice.” He muttered as he pulled away a little.

You laughed, “Free practice ended when we got back from the honeymoon.”

Max was fast on the track but it took a little longer for your body to give you those signs.

Your and Max's honeymoon had been two weeks, spending the first week in The Bahamas before flying back home and christening the new house.

Nico had spent time with Sophie, Victoria, and his cousins back in Belgium before they all flew out to see the house.

Your time alone with Max had been nice, just the two of you sleeping in before Max would go and sit on the sim for a few hours. You would eventually get up and make yourself a coffee and something that resembled breakfast before pulling him off the sim and back into bed for a while.

You hadn't been trying to get pregnant, but birth control only did so much.

“I don’t know how Nico is going to feel now that he won’t be getting all of the attention,” Max said leaning his back against the kitchen counter.

"I'm sure he'll find a way to get our attention. He is related to you after all."

“Doesn’t mean that he hasn’t picked up things from you as well.”

Nico had started picking up things that you would do, from the way that you would use certain words in a sentence, to how he would mimic you when you were doing something around the house. In those moments, you felt the most like his mother.

You couldn’t wait for this baby to be a part of such a loving family.

“You want to call your mom and Victoria and tell them, or should I?” You asked.

Max lightly groaned before dropping his head to your shoulder. You ran your fingers through his hair before feeling his head come up off your shoulder.

"Tomorrow?" He asked. You nodded back before noticing Max's eyes drop to your abdomen, his large hands not leaving your sides until Nico had come into the kitchen.

taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover

[astrcmoni]

ੈ✩‧₊˚Avec toi, je suis chez moiੈ✩₊˚

pairing: billie eilish x fem!reader

warning- none except that you might cry(?)

wc: 1.8k… i don’t think i’ll ever write anything under 1k

authors note: if you don’t know what the title means it’s french, meaning “with you, i am home”.

edit: idk if i like this anymore🧍🏾‍♀️

Nervous. That’s what you felt as you rushed through the bustling streets of Chicago, your heart pounding in your ears. You looked around frantically, weaving through the crowd, eyes darting across each building until you finally saw it—the stadium. It towered over you like a beacon, glowing under the night sky. Breath hitching, you stopped for a second to catch it. That’s when you heard it. The melody of her voice. The thrumming of the beat. The vibrations of the bass. It all floated through the glass doors and straight into your body. each note vibrating in your chest, pulling you like an invisible thread.

Pushing through the entrance, you approached the front desk, showing the clerk your ticket. Instead of tearing it and handing you a stub, she shook her head, almost smiling. She motioned toward the backstage area, her intentions clear. But you gently refused her kind gesture, insisting—almost pleading—to let you join the general area, where you could be in the crowd with everyone else, feel the energy firsthand.

After what felt like forever, she sighed and relented, her brows furrowed like she couldn’t understand why anyone would give up such a golden opportunity just to be squished in a pit with a bunch of sweaty, screaming fans.

The screams grew louder and louder as you made your way toward the heart of the stadium. The chant of thousands rising up to the rafters, vibrating through your bones.

“Billie, Billie, Billie…” They sang her name like a prayer, like a hymn to their goddess.

The theatre came into view, and you had to stop yourself from gaping at the sight. People were packed shoulder-to-shoulder, the space bursting at the seams with bodies and voices. You murmured small “excuse me’s” and “sorry’s” as you squeezed past, trying not to step on too many feet or jostle too many shoulders until you finally found a good spot near the front.

Walking through rows of bodies, you murmured small “excuse me’s” and “sorry’s” as you brushed past shoulders and accidentally stepped on toes. When you finally found a good spot, you rooted yourself to the ground. The stage loomed ahead of you, stretching wider than you’d imagined—an expanse of sleek black and shimmering lights. But before you could take it all in, the house lights dimmed, casting the stadium in a sea of darkness.

A soft guitar strum filled the air, the first few notes fluttering like a heartbeat. Then, from somewhere high above, a black platform began to lower, and there she was—in all her effortless glory. Sporting yet another one of her oversized jerseys along with a baseball cap, Billie’s silhouette cut a striking figure against the smoke and spotlights.

“i’m trying my best, to keep you satisfied...”

Her voice was more than angelic—it was otherworldly, like it could reach deep into your soul and fill every empty space. It made your entire body go still, goosebumps rising along your skin. It was as if you’d been yanked out of reality and thrown into some surreal dream, like she was your guide to a place beyond pain or stress, where only her voice existed.

Feeling as if you’d ascended into the heavens and were being welcomed by God himself, each note wrapping around you like a warm embrace, soothing every ache you’d been carrying for the past two months.

Every time she sang, it was like she poured her entire heart into each note, every syllable dripping with raw emotion. She moved around the stage with an ease you hadn’t seen in so long, lying on her back, staring up at the sky, just… lost in the music. Seeing her like this—completely at peace and at home—made something warm bloom in your chest. You couldn’t help but beam with pride, feeling like you were going to burst with how happy you were just to see her again.

It had been almost two months since you’d last seen her in person. College and tour had become separate worlds, tearing you apart and leaving this gaping rift between you two. The balance you used to have was shattered into a million pieces, no matter how much you tried to pick them up. It wasn’t that you weren’t both trying—of course, you were. It was just that time zones, schedules, and everything in between made it near impossible to connect.

Nights turned into weeks where you’d wear her hoodies to sleep, drown yourself in her favorite scents, and even try her diet, just to feel something like her presence. But instead of getting closer, you found yourself grasping at straws—like trying to hold onto water slipping through your fingers.

When you found out about her show in Chicago, you packed your bags without a second thought. You’d rushed your assignments, booked the earliest flight, and somehow managed to snag a last-minute ticket. That’s how you ended up here, front row, heart pounding as you watched her sing.

Being in the crowd was different from watching backstage. Here, you could truly see her, raw and unfiltered. You could feel the way she poured every ounce of herself into her performance, connecting with every person in the audience as if they were the only one there. The passion she poured into her performance, the way she moved with every beat, the way her voice soared through the stadium—it was truly and utterly captivating.

Smoke erupted from hidden vents, and strobe lights flickered through the air as the platform started to lower again. the music filtering the air.

“I loved you, and I still do. Just wanted passion from you, just wanted what I gave you…”

Billie’s voice reverberated through the room, and as she sang, her gaze swept over the crowd. She looked at faces, at outstretched hands, until—suddenly—her eyes landed on you. Everything around you seemed to freeze. Her lips parted, a flash of recognition sparking in her eyes. And then she moved.

In one swift motion, she had jumped down from the stage and was running toward the crowd. People screamed, confusion rippling through them as they watched her dash forward, seemingly abandoning her performance. But she didn’t care. She didn’t stop. And each second felt it dragged on forever, every breath sticking in your throat until she finally reached you.

Flashes of red and blue seared through the smoke as she collided into you. Her arms wrapped around you so tightly it was like she was afraid you’d disappear if she let go. She buried her face in your neck, and you could feel her body trembling against yours, hearing the soft, choked sobs that escaped her lips. Her grip was fierce, almost painful, like a child clinging to their favorite doll at the park, afraid someone would take it away.

“Hi, baby. oh my god hi, my love.” you whispered softly into her ear, cradling the back of her head and rubbing soothing circles down her spine.

“I know, it’s okay i’ve got you..” You could feel eyes on you, phones pointing, trying to capture this intimate moment between their idol and her lover. But right now, it didn’t matter. In this small, fragile bubble, it was just the two of you.

She pulled back slightly, leaning her forehead against yours. Her hands caressed your cheeks, thumbs brushing away tears you didn’t realize were falling. She stared at you like she couldn’t believe you were real, eyes wide and glossy. Before you could say anything more, she leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that tasted like salt and honey—tears mixing together a bittersweet reunion.

The kiss was a breathless, desperate collision of emotions. Her lips were soft but urgent, fierce but tender, carrying the weight of every “I miss you” and “I’m sorry” neither of you had the chance to say. She kissed you like she was memorizing everything about you—the way you felt, the way you tasted, the very essence of you that she’d missed so much.

She deepened the kiss, and it was like two waves crashing together, a powerful force that left you both breathless and wanting more. Her hands got lost in your hair as she tried to pull you closer, as if she couldn’t get enough. But even as you strained against each other, the metal gate between you felt like a cruel reminder of the distance that had kept you apart.

The crowd around you screamed at the scene, their excitement transforming into frantic movements that jostled you both, forcing you to pull away. You stayed close, though, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling in the small space between.

The crowd roared in excitement, the energy around you reaching a fever pitch. The intensity of their reactions pushed you, jostling you both until you had to pull away. Foreheads still touching as your breaths mingled in the small space between, eyes locked and smiles wide.

“Sorry for stopping the show, guys,” she said, voice crackling through the mic. She glanced back at you, eyes still glowing with joy and relief. “But, you know, my girlfriend’s here…” She turned back to the crowd, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, and if anyone has that video, please send it to me.”

The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter, awe and admiration radiating off them in waves.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” she asked softly, her fingers brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“I didn’t know I was till I got here. It was a last-minute thing.”

Her gaze traced every inch of your face, memorizing the way your hair was slightly disheveled, the way your eyes shone with nothing but love and admiration for her. She looked at you like you were the only person in the world, like she wanted to capture this moment and keep it safe forever. You looked at her the same way—seeing her not as the girl on stage, but just as her, the girl you loved more than anything.

“I’m so glad you’re here, mama. You have no idea.” she breathed, thumb swiping gently across your lower lip.

She closed the space between you again, this kiss softer but no less meaningful, more sacred than the last. This kiss was slower, softer, filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise, a vow whispered in a language only the two of you understood.

It was a dance of emotions, each touch speaking volumes. A conversation without words. A yearning poem written in the press of lips and the brush of tongues.

The air around you crackled with electricity, thick with unspoken words and feelings. This kiss, this moment, was everything you needed to remind you that no matter how much time and space separated you, this bond, this love, this electric, soul-deep connection, was the golden thread that would always stitch you back together.

authors note: I wrote this at like 1 am after seeing a video of her performing the greatest at her first show and finished it this morning, i’m so tired😭.

i wish i could go to a show so bad but not this round unfortunately 😓. ngl i wanna write in french more.

remember to take care of yourself, stay hydrated, and stay safe. love and light🫶🏾- vay

[ad1thi]

stevetony recs you won't see on other rec lists

I've (surprisingly) been reading a lot of stevetony lately, and have come across a couple of gems that i feel are vastly under-appreciated, and wanted to show them some love. Obviously, the title is a misnomer because maybe you have seen these on other rec lists, but it's clickbait okay !! Don't forget to leave kudos and comments, if you like what you've read !!

No Trait As Much As This : @kandisheek-art

Tony gets hit with truth serum. It's a terrible time for everyone.

the year you were mine : @areiton

The night that changes his life forever, Steve is on a date with another man. Or: Steve is a pricy escort and Tony buys him for a year. Neither of them are doing this for love.

Meant : @ardett

What Steve meant when he asked out Tony was very different than what Tony meant when he said yes.

One Last Second Chance : @/Muccamukk

Tony Stark, second newest engineer at Rhodes Labs International, is just trying to rebuild from the ruins of his failed company, vanished fortune, and struggles with alcoholism. His goals include keeping his head down, avoiding stress and convincing Dr. Rhodes to let him build a really cool robot, so why does the universe keep throwing Avengers in his path?

Not just a river in Egypt (Tony is most certainly not in denial) : @lilgideon

"You are most definitely not in love with me, Cap, what you are experiencing is called cabin pressure," Tony explains, because he has a rational train of thought and he's met enough shrinks to have figured out their tactics by now. "And possibly, you know, sexual frustration, because it doesn't matter at all that you're, like, America's national icon, Fury still won't let you out. I know that, I see that, I acknowledge your pain, I feel with you, Cap, believe me, I do. And I get it, because I am a very good-looking fellow and we spend a lot of time together, stuck in this tower, and it's easy to--" "I am," Steve cuts off, equal parts amused and frustrated and concerned. "In love. With you. Tony, I'm in love with you."

then sirens, then bells (the broadcast remix) : @isozyme

“I tire of this,” Amora says, and with a casual gesture the entire team is pinned in place, frozen in mid-air. Steve has the unsettling, half-familiar feeling of someone rifling through his head like it’s a card catalogue. A mind-reader as well as a witch, then. A female voice whispers into his mind’s ear. It’s very tragic in here, dearheart, but I think your armored friend is, somehow, more psychically toxic than even you. What’s wrong with Tony? Steve thinks, but the presence is gone, leaving his memories of war stirred up like flying insects rising off a lake in at dawn.

The Enchantress opens Tony's mind to anyone and everyone near him. Steve knows he should let Tony keep his secrets, but he's not noble enough to stay away

The Twice-Told Tale : @arysteia

For someone he'd hero-worshipped for so long, Steve Rogers in the flesh is a pretty big disappointment. For one thing, he keeps looking at Tony as though he reminds him of someone else, and even if he never says anything, Tony's pretty sure it's his father. A lifetime of not measuring up to Howard's expectations is more than enough, thank you very much, and he's certainly not going to make an effort to live up to any of Steve's. Steve's pretty clearly failed to live up to his expectations, in any case, and that's not hypocritical at all.

i'm going too far (just to have you near) : @/zaynerpaner

“Rhodey, why did you leave me here?” Tony demands. The voice on the other line doesn't sound exactly like Rhodey’s – in fact, it sounds like he’d woken somebody up, which couldn’t be right since Rhodey had been here with him earlier. “Who is this?” the voice speaks again, and – it’s too deep. Rhodey’s voice isn’t that deep. “Rhodey? It’s Tony, m’phone’s dead and I need you to pick me up,” he tries again, frowning as he leans against the bar. “Uh, I think you have the wrong number.” OR the one where Tony drunk calls the wrong number looking for a ride home from the bar, and Steve comes to pick him up.

Living In The Future : @/Closer

Eighteen-year-old Tony Stark is the boy genius who woke Captain America, and now he's stuck with him. That's not a bad thing, but between Steve's wide-eyed wonder at the new world and Tony's little fanboy crush, the awkwardness just keeps happening.

if we ever meet again : @/anonymous

"It’s been two months," Steve says, voice low. "Rhodey- Colonel. It’s been two months.”

[nights-at-crystarium]

Fragments - episodes 23-26 author notes

You can find similar breakdown posts on older episodes in my pinned!

Obligatory ShB spoiler warning.

The general status quo hasn't changed since Vivi's arrival to the First: he still doesn't feel any land under his feet, Exarch still doesn't inspire trust, although there's no reason to distrust him either. Vivi isn't in a rush to meet the Scions because usually their perspectives don't help him at all. Hence he fucks around in the Crystarium instead of doing the msq.

You can hear the sound of Exarch failing the dating sim once again.

Talking about a mystel. Bumping into a mystel. They could get run over by a stampede of cats at this point and Vivi would still think this guy's probably a hume. He genuinely has No Idea. Had he had an idea, he would be actually more tactful. Maybe.

Me: no graphic violence Also me: murder onscreen

I hope the reference to episode 11 is clear, but here's a refresher: that's what ARRRaha is mostly remembered as. For multiple reasons. Mostly for magically killing himself and giving Vivi some mild stress and an even milder blow to his ego.

Exarch's fate was to choke on his coffee there and then, he kept his composure by a miracle no less. Vivi doesn't know the meaning of what he just blurted out, he simply rolls the letters in his mouth, still struggling to remember "G'raha".

HE MANAGED! The embodiment of intelligence.

Vivi reflects on the events of previous episodes and the dangers of the fae folk, and decides to do a massive handwave at that. He's walking a fine line, but he legit doesn't care.

Canon emoji user 🖤

Exarch has a hate-hate relationship with sleep, however, when he feels like unwinding or resetting his mind, he turns to memories of moments when he felt safe enough to drift away.

He must've felt the most warm and human when the young Lyna stayed with him all the time.

I sat on this self-contained story for a year. Officially the most wholesome episode ever. There's a bit of One Piece influence, if you remember Nami's backstory. Gen-san wore a pinwheel on his cap to appear less scary to the little Nami, and cheer her up.

Someone read this as "crap glue", which brings me infinitely more joy than my original "craft glue" x'D

There's a super subtle smile. He knows. He probably sensed Lyna approaching him, but remained still to see where this goes.

Back to the present, where they refer to each other by titles.

He's g'oogling.

G'oogle results: 1 fae, 1 slacking idiot.

Exarch isn't just jealous or yearning, he's also kindaaaaa in the middle of his grand plan, yet his hero isn't keen of jumping into action? And he doesn't know how to confront him about that. Luckily, Urianger also happens to be in Il Mheg.

Vivi smacks a like on Urianger's outfit. Rated S for peak sluttiness.

Nobody talks about Feo Ul's snot bubble so I will x'D

Urianger doesn't wanna leave his comfy place for an adventure, he visually demonstrates that while telling a polite lie, trusting Vivi to interpret that as intended.

They have a special vibe of quiet, maskless understanding, even if they don't interact much. They've got nothing to butt heads over. Vivi's fond of people who don't "fit in" and go against the grain. Being smart and observant as he is, Urianger knows that Vivi's rather hopeless, and doesn't waste his energy on trying to debate, direct, or, gods forbid, fix him.

Just a closeup because he looks cute here :> To keep your expectations grounded, though: this's one of the veeeeeery few Urianger episodes. He has little overall "screentime". This comic isn't trying to be a fanservice for every character, even if I personally like them. Gotta keep things focused.

This one's kinda important: Vivi acknowledges how nice and quiet it feels (in the moment? In Il Mheg? On the First?), but the realization doesn't fully bloom in his mind yet.

"Mmyeah there are definitely better cracks to ponder out there".

Another closeup because *clutches at heart*

Two things: his own, genuine excitement to reunite with fren, followed by self-reminder that she's no fren and that he has to maintain distance (Vivi who are you trying to fool you're bad at this).

Also mirroring. He sees Alisaie's face and drops his own.

You peek inside Alisaie's brain and find a coin loudly rolling around, one side says "omg it's HIM!!!!!", the other "beat this mf up". Why? Because she can. And probably because the word of Vivi's arrival had already reached her. He spent a good week doing nothing in the Crystarium (and even Il Mheg) instead of rushing to meet her.

The new tumblr post editor (that wasn't forced on me until ~2 months ago) won't let me add anymore pics. I was thinking of making meatier but less frequent posts of this type, because they'll massively add up over time. Imagine a new reader looking at 300 episodes and 100 recaps. I'd feel overwhelmed. But I guess I'm left with no choice but to keep these recaps relatively short and frequent.

Anyway! Thanks for reading!!!!! I'm blessed to have people invested enough to interact with my work on this level.

[transparentlyfallingasleep]

7. How do you choose which POV to write from? (Especially for starbucks)

25. What fic do you wish you got more of a response on?

26. Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

39. Share a snippet from a WIP

aw wow! People never ask me questions on here.

let’s see number 7. Honestly I tried to come up with a better answer than this but it’s just the vibe of the thing. The first story was really just a response to “Clint Barton shows up 15 minutes late with Starbucks” insert Troy with the pizza meme that was out in the ether post his absence in Winter Soldier. I decided to try making myself write from Natasha’s perspective after the Clint heaviness in marketplace etc but in the Starbucks sequel I just wanted to imagine/ write down the Robert Downey jr voice in my head reacting to spy kid 3D. And then they all joined in. Clint’s voice is my most comfortable place to be Natasha, Cap, Maria, Jarvis the least but I think that’s because being that fucking competent seems heptapod level alien.

25: I wish people read unfinished business more… it was my first story in the marvel space and my second fanfic ever. And I still kinda like imagining it’s running in the background of the avengers… and it could have too if not for that pesky Joss Whedon. I also I’m proud of my Game of thrones fic. It was an attempt to self sooth and I think it turned out rather well all things considered.

26. I’m not sure I do wild rides I’m definitely not much of a plot writer. I tend to focus on small intimate character moments. Probably because I suck even more at the other stuff, possibly because being a speech pathologist I’m better at getting voices of characters ‘right’ than I am at making things happen. But I am proud at how I salvaged age of ultron for the rewriting in Market Place and how much I was able to reuse, reduce, recycle might be surprising to readers.

39. So my clinic shut down suddenly in September. If you are Australian I will just say this about it. The NDIS and in particular the Government have been making it harder and harder to work as a paediatric disability clinician and hell bent on telling our clients that it’s because we are rorting the system. I didn’t want my clients to loose their therapeutic alliance and a speechie that has known them most of their lives so I started my own sole trading. It’s long hours, crazy stress and I don’t even know if I will be able to afford the audit come 2025 but for now my kiddos are safe and getting therapy. All the govt has managed to do is privatise the old block grant system and lie about choice and control and that’s all I have to say about that. As a result I’ve got no real WIPs but I have this… you can see that I write dialogue first.

If you’ve come to tell me I’ve besmirched my honour, that the castle is in an uproar… I care not. 

Your grace. 

Ser Davos I am no princess. 

The laws of the realm say

So Tyrion Lannister crowns my brother and frees the north for my sister and now I am smothered by titles? I knew I should have killed that-

Id never really thought about it like that Milady. Allow an old man a small courtesy? I accepted my title for services to Stannis Baratheon. Plenty of times I thought better of it but I did it for those who came after me. Lord Gendry well he doesn’t say, quiet sort that he is -

Surly 

As you say, but i think I’m right in saying he had similar thoughts. I don’t think either of us thought that there might be others on the other side of it. Born to the titles and the power and wanting none of it, wanting to be rid of it. 

He is a good lad lady Arya. Give him longer. He can’t stay this angry for long. 

I can’t stay ser Davos

Forgive me but I’ve lived longer on decking than I have on dry land or had till your brother made me hand. The tides they come again. Like circles they are. Why not tarry even if he’s determined to make himself unpleasant. 

He doesn’t have to put effort into that. He’s had it mastered for years. You are married Ser, children? 

Aye My Lady

[ryuichirou]

Replies

One serious one and a bunch of kind of silly shorter ones.

Anonymous asked:

Hi!  I hope you don't mind me asking this but I had a question about fandom stuff since this is my first time in an active fandom.  Almost every time there's fanworks, mostly fanart, of the TWST first and seconds years in sexual positions/sexualized, there's a lot of people dramatically freaking out because they're "minors/16/17!" and "you're not allowed to do that/it's illegal so stop that!" (Sometimes in all caps too). Are these people common in fandoms with younger casts?  Sorry for sounding anxious, I just keep running into people like this and anti-shippers and they really bring my mood down...

Hi Anon! Sure, I don’t mind talking about fandom stuff.

I think it’s not a matter of titles having younger casts, but a matter of fandoms having younger people in them. There are some shows that aren’t very popular/have fandoms that mostly consist of people that are older than 25, and you’d see less of this type of attitude there. Like, drastically less. I don’t think there are a lot of people complaining about characters of Prince of Tennis being 14-16 year olds, for example.

But if a show is popular with teens or younger people in general, chances are, there are going to be quite a number of antis. For example, SK8 got a big chunk of its popularity on tiktok and boy is it obvious lol

I want to stress that this doesn’t mean that all the anti-shippers are young: this absolutely isn’t the case, and unfortunately a lot of pretty much adult people participate in harassment, write call-outs and do this type of crap in general. Also obviously, not every teenager is an anti (not that it matters to us of course, all of our blogs are 18+ so the majority of teens shouldn’t even be here).

So yeah. I think of it as a subculture, albeit a very aggressive one. There are people who are legitimately uncomfortable with this type of content, but I’m pretty sure the majority of antis just love using their non-existent high moral ground to harass and try to control people and their art. They either don’t understand the magnitude of their actions or don’t care if they hurt real people over fictional minors.

I am very sorry that you stumble upon this type of people and that they make you feel bad. I always say this, but: block everyone. Even if a person is just mildly uncomfortable to you or you don’t like their vibes, block them just so you see less of this type of stuff.

Your art and any art that you enjoy doesn’t hurt anyone as long as people are being responsible about posting and interacting with it. So absolutely don’t feel like you’re doing something wrong just because someone doesn’t understand how fiction works. I hope this type of crap disappears as soon as fandoms become less popular, like they’ve been before things got out of hand. Some people should’ve never been here in the first place – sorry for gate-keeping, but they don’t get it and don’t care about getting it or at least being respectful to others, so why should we be better people.

Anonymous asked:

Idia: Yay, crotch view!

(related to our Lilidia drawing from yesterday hehe)

Lucky boy! Got to see Heavens right before his demise…

Anonymous asked:

What do you think about Neige x Epel?

Replied! Also talked about them a bit in this reply + some other replies that I can’t find…

Anonymous asked:

thoughts on liliaxepel?

Definitely replied before, but I can’t find that reply, so: they’re cute, gotta love two short feisty cuties together; we really liked that one vignette in which Lilia shows Epel that you don’t have to be tall or big to be scary and strong. It teases a very interesting potential dynamic both in a shippy and in a platonic sense: Epel has a lot to learn from Lilia, and it would be fun if they interacted more often.

It isn’t a ship that we’re massively passionate about, but they’re fun together! Could be very hot.

[blurryfce300]

i had several thoughts while driving so here those are:

blurryface and ned’s connection

this started with me noticing a weird pattern in my blurry glasses (official merch btw) and it reminded me of another character, ned. it looks like green and purple waves or almøst glitchy? anyways it reminded me of what we saw ned’s vision look like in chlorine.

(legitimately the only place i could see the pattern was in a bathroom stall i have no idea why)

ned’s vision is blurred arøund the edges, which isn’t all that interesting but what is intriguing is how ned’s vision has a chromatic abberation filter on it (its kinda glitchy.) blurry’s glasses even løøk like ned’s eyes, or i guess ned’s eyes look like blurry’s glasses, with the white rim and huge black circular lenses.

visual similarities aside, ned and blurry have deeper ties to one anøther. firstly, what they were born out øf.

blurryface is a being created as a physical manifestation of things such as depression, anxiety, self-døubt, negativity, and møst importantly to this discussion, insecurities. the areas øf blurry that are painted black have meaning, and his hands specifically are representative of the insecurity related to things that tyler creates. ned on the øther hand is a being made to represent creativity and the ups and downs of the creative process. ned stands for neuro expansion device, too.

blurry and ned are created from the same things, but from opposite ends of the spectrum when it cømes to those things.

lore-wise, they’ve got søme connections tøø. there are nine bishops and nine neds. we’ve seen 8 of them, with keons holding the antlers of the ninth one. with keons’ death, there are 8 bishops too. however, with the disappearance of the ned who gave tyler his antlers in the outside, there’s once again øne fewer ned than bishøp. but initially, there were an even amount øf neds and bishops.

bøth blurry and ned have somewhat similar writing/typing styles, with blurry’s all caps and weird spacing and ned’s all caps writing and incorrect spelling/missing letters.

they were also introduced in similar ways. we met one first (one singular blurryface entity in his era and one ned in chlorine) and then were introduced to eight more in the following era (the nine bishops in trench and the øther eight neds in the outside.)

———————————————————————————

this is where i get into more theory-ish territory. we never see blurry use antlers to control anyone. now maybe they just hadn’t created ned or laid out the specifics of psychokinesis at that point, or maybe blurry døesn’t need the antlers to use psychokinesis. maybe that’s just sømething he can do naturally without any help. the bishops need the antlers. they cannot use psychokinesis on their own.

given the connections blurry and ned have, is it possible that they came from the same place? or that they were once part of the same being? when trench was created, and when blurry was put into that world and split, was he split even further than i had previously thought? was he not just split into nine bishops who hold the title of blurryface and represent the same things he døes, but also split to create nine neds?

or were the neds created as a respønse to blurry’s split into the bishops, taking some of his abilities (namely his ability to use psychokinesis without antlers) and giving them to a new type øf entity to keep the power out of their hands? this clearly didn’t wørk as intended, and wøuld that be yet anøther instance of a bishop or the bishops as a whole trying to regain sømething they lost from when they were blurryface?

(the first instance being nico calling himself blurryface i made a whole post about that already so tldr nico wants to høld øntø the past by using the name blurryface because thats what his song, stressed øut, is abøut)

[riacte]

rria . ria dont convert the timestamp of receiving this ask to est but i finished false episodes and i get it i understand the devotion and the homies and the protectiveness hoyljjy fuck save me 🦅🐕save me. beware of dog reapers watch out rendogss about false false false you won💥💥💥😺💥💥💥💥💥💥

RIGHT. THEY ARE SO SWEET IT MAKES ME WANT TO EXPLODE.

When I was watching the first part I was like ohhh she sounds SO soggy when he’s not talking to her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this soggy. And then it was slowly building and oh we’re really in it now.

BUT THE REUNION SCENE IS SO!!!!!! They’re so happy for each other 😭😭😭 False saying he deserves the win even though it’s her who won 😭😭 Ren coming in like YOU WON!! YOU WON!! :DDDDD

And I was already screaming and dying. But you can really tell how fond they are of each other. And False being more excited for the cool hat than the Demise prize and he literally promised to give it to her tomorrow when things had calmed down— and she won!! All the dots are connected.

And the end. MAN. “Watch out, Rendog is about” in all caps. Her putting his name and head on her build. And the giggle before the cut. And I’m left sitting here like OKAY THAT JUST HAPPENED. WOW.

I feel slightly insane because it’s like …??? It’s so obvious how core and special their friendship is to both of their contents on HC. Take a quick scroll through their thumbnails and they pop up every now and then. All the collabs. AND STANDING NEXT TO EACH OTHER IN GROUP RECORDINGS (this always happens). We even have major standout events like Blue9 and BRR and S6 neighbours. And now Demise because DUDE. THAT WAS CRAZY.

And still Tumblr (and both of their Twitch chats) seems to be the only site in which people majorly care about their bond? Does that make sense. Tumblrinas screaming and crying and filling up the main tags. Actually Twitch chat is the mvp here because I feel like every single stream of theirs has a mention of the other and chat is like :DDD we love you and the other person :DD. They’re invisible on blue bird site and THANK GOD and STAY AWAY. Orange app is a bit better bc at least the Mc Championship guys recognise them but you know when there was a post back in HC Reddit then asking for “underrated” duos and we had to post FalseRen because other people weren’t. Are they underrated? Do other people think they’re popular. Like Ren isn’t usually paired with False in fanon but I think most people have the awareness to include bits about their friendship? But still? I would’ve expected more… why aren’t they more popular like some other duos even after the five million obvious / dramatic / cute / wholesome stuff 😭 Ren’s favouritism gets worse every time I check in 😭

(I know. It’s because fandoms tend to like same gender pairs. But it does notttt explain why everyone happily pairs up Stress+Iskall and Joe+Cleo and it’s all recognised and these two are like …? oh yeah they’re friends. Right. They’re friends.)

Anyways this got long. That vid makes me soooo happy and it’s sooo good. I know Ren is probably going to make his next ep thumbnail his really cute hut but if False is also on there or it’s titled after something like “WE DID IT FALSE” I would further explode into millions of pieces. 🥺

[starl3ng]

Duplicitous Desertion

3—Glimpse of Freedom

Angel’s saddled with a new and stressful mission and Kylo has a vision. A… rather interesting vision.

Ao3 | Tip Jar | Next

Content: Kylo Ren/Fem!OC, MDNI, sexual content, eventual NSFW, self-indulgent, slow burn, canon-typical violence, mentions/descriptions of injury and death, general angst, illustrations inside

5k words

Days pass, and more parts keep appearing in Angel’s room whenever she is sent to retrieve her meals with the troopers as her escorts. 

Finally, after four sleep cycles, the door to Angel’s room opened while she was at her desk tinkering and her dark ‘friend’ stepped through the door. Angel sets aside what she’d been working on—a crude blaster pistol—and stands from her chair in silent acknowledgment. The motion was something beaten into her when she worked under Omaf. 

She knew him by name now. It stared at her from the little screen on her wristband, but she didn’t dare ever say it. “Sir.” She nods in greeting. 

Angel was given no reaction to her new title for him other than a small pause. Then he continued walking closer to her desk. “Have you made anything?”

Angel picks up her invention. It’s nothing new, really; a variant of the DC-17 hand blaster. “Pistol,” she says casually, holding its handle out to him. “With some modifications. Instead of its usual fifty, it fires thirty with more explosive power—in theory. I haven’t actually shot it myself.”

He examined it in his hand, feeling its weight, passing it to the other hand, holding it to eye level as if he was about to fire a hole in the wall above her bed. It was crude, but it was in its first stage of life after all. “Keep me updated. I'd like to test it when it's ready,” he said as he gripped the thick barrel and held the handle out to her. “I've come here to inform you that you have your first official mission.”

Angel raises her brows and sets the pistol aside on the desk. “What is it?” Her fingers twiddle with the hem of her shirt. The stakes were high for this kind of thing. She was under the watchful eye of one of the most terrifying men in the galaxy. She’d seen him fighting—and even then, it wasn’t the real thing. Still, Angel knew she wouldn’t want to meet the end of his saber. 

“You will be assigned with myself and my knights to travel to Varkana to oversee a weapons deal taking place with one of our sources. I will give you more details about it on the ship.” He paused and began to lightly pace. “In four hours two of my men will come to retrieve you and bring you to my ship. You will be ready by then.” He walked over to her bed and pulled open a drawer. It was unclear when the pressed grey uniform had been placed in the drawer beneath her bed, but it was most likely during one of the re-stocks of her tinkering parts. He held out the folded uniform, topped off with a cap. “You will have this on by the time they come.”

“Yes, sir.” Angel nods. Nothing could surprise her here. Not the mysterious restocks or uniforms that appeared out of nowhere. She was grateful for a change of clothes, though. Angel walks over to him and takes the folded uniform into her arms. 

Despite being nervous about helping him oversee a weapons deal, she was overjoyed to be leaving the ship—even for just a day. Seeing nothing but darkness and stars all day was beginning to drive her crazy. “Um—I’ve never been to Varkana. What’s it like?” 

“Hot, arid; it's mostly deserted. Where we are heading there will be no one but the dealers and us. There are canyons all over that provide cover. That's where we will be taking our deal.” He continued his pacing. “This won't be like anything on Hays Minor, prepare for that.”

Angel nods, pressing her lips into a line. “Okay.” Hot? She’d been hot before; after a run, after lifting heavy boxes, but she’d never—not once—felt the heat of the sun.

 

By the time Angel boarded Kylo’s ship she was dressed in the provided uniform. It was a little tight around the chest but otherwise fit relatively well. She felt silly in the hat though, but wouldn’t ever say that. 

She was struggling a little right now actually, weaving between marching stormtroopers that were loading into the ship. She’d lost her two chaperones in the fray. Crap, I can’t see anything! It was like they didn’t even notice her, or bothered to move out of the way so she could find where she was supposed to sit before they took off. 

Suddenly, like a school of fish, the white plates of armor part and a hand is set on her shoulder. The hand guides her down the crowd of soldiers now lined along the ship’s wall. It stops when she stands, facing the base of a black metallic ladder. It was obvious from the soldiers' reactions who was behind her.

Angel turned her head only slightly, looking up at the silver face of the mask that loomed above her. Sometimes—sometimes—he was more of a comfort than a tyrant. “I’m going up?” She points, surprised that she wouldn’t be sitting with the troopers. Though she supposed, she wasn’t low ranking. Not at all. 

“Yes. You will be sitting with me. I will be briefing you.” He remained behind her, shifting his weight from boot to boot as he waited for her to go up. Not a single soldier clad in white had moved since he had stepped aboard the loading bay.

Angel nods and turns to look back up the ladder. She grips the handle above her and steps up, beat-up boots squeaking on the metal as she climbs up into the space above and steps aside to make room for him. 

Staring up at her, waiting, he scales up the ladder after she steps away and the troopers resume their movements. Once on the second-floor platform, Kylo Ren turned off in one direction where a door was, expecting her to follow. Inside was seating far nicer than the room she had previously been thrown into and had a small window to see out of.

He took a seat in one of the leather chairs and motioned for her to sit across from him.

Angel follows his orders, settling awkwardly into the luxurious seat. She wondered how the troopers below would feel if they knew he sat up here in seats this nice. Her eyes dart around, fingers tracing the dark leather as she takes in this new room. 

“You will be under the orders of the Supreme Leader, impersonating a First Order officer while investigating all of the weapons before we load them onto the ship. You will have eight days, so be thorough.” He pulled up a map on his wrist and held it out for her to see in the air, blue hologram flickering occasionally. “Our dealers will have snipers and personnel positioned all around while you work. You will have two troopers assigned to you at all times.” He pulled his wrist away and the image faded. “You will, under no circumstances, show any expression on your face if you find a problem. Just continue like you never saw it and when you finish that day's work you report only to me.” He leaned forward in his seat. “If our supplier finds out that you are not just taking inventory and that you are doubting the quality of his supplies, none of us will make it off this planet. Is that clear?”

A bewildered expression unfolds on Angel’s face and the hand that had been absentmindedly tracing the leather of the chair begins the tremble. She grips it with her other hand, swallowing. “O-okay, yes, very clear,” she croaks, clearly not excited about it at all. Impersonating an officer? How did officers even act? Angel pictures one in her head; stuck up, pompous, and sneery. Yeah, she could do that.

Nodding minutely, Angel glances back at the man in front of her. “Right, okay; I’m under orders from the Supreme Leader.” She tests the sentence out. Then, she takes a sudden deep breath, smacks her cheeks, and settles on a relatively blank but rather bitchy-looking resting face as she leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. Pretend to just be taking inventory, no expression, you’re an officer, she tells herself. 

Kylo Ren makes no sound of acknowledgment or encouragement as he walks out the pressurized doors to who knows where. It did not seem implied that she was to follow him. Alone, all she could do was build anticipation. And practice. Practice, practice.

After some time, Angel’s wincing in the sun with a clipboard tucked under her arm as she walks side by side with Kylo Ren, flanked by two troopers. The ship hums behind them, cooling off from the flight, boots pluming brown dust behind her. 

They were in the middle of what looked to be a long-abandoned mining factory, old machinery lying scattered about and covered in red dust. High canyon walls provided enough shade to keep oneself as cool as possible while the sun that orbited above was at its highest peak.

As Kylo had said; there were people, not all human, placed about with large rifles. It only made sense that if the First Order had a squadron of troops, this seller should as well.

There were two metal boxes laid out from the base of his transfer craft, one of the troopers helping Angel by holding up the contents of each crate before putting them in the next. It made it easier to look like she was taking count of them.

Angel stood, straight-backed and blank-faced as she tallied each item on her clipboard. There were only about two seconds to inspect each weapon presented to her. She was familiar with these; Sonn-Blas F-11Ds, or at least replicas. It was impossible to know with these big weapon companies. They spread their claws out like wings, sold to other sellers who’d sell for a higher price. It was dangerous and messy. Either way, she’d made a thousand replicas of this model in her time on Hays Minor. 

Two of them so far had magnification lenses missing from their scopes. Lazy. She fights the twitch of her nose as she ignores it and continues tallying. 

A soldier from the seller began to make a slow pass behind Angel, a cloth covering the lower half of his face and tinted speeder goggles covering his eyes. As he slowly stepped behind her, it became obvious why Kylo had been so insistent she not take any note of any imperfections she noticed.

He was busy talking to the head of the operation, probably slyly pressing information out of him whilst keeping him oblivious to Angel’s real task. 

“That was the last blaster. The rest of these are hand grenades. Ready?” The trooper asked as he reached into the bottom of the crate and held up a black, spherical bomb.

Angel was silent as she made the last tally, did a quick check over of the number, and crossed off the box of the written total to mark that the promised amount had been delivered. Only then does she raise her nose and boredly gesture with her hand, “Begin.” She was trying hard to ignore the man behind her, aware that he was scrutinizing her every movement. 

Angel’s eyes darted over every hand grenade presented to her. She had to be fast with her check-overs. These in particular made her nervous because they were handling an entire crate of explosives. If she missed one faulty model their whole ship could explode. 

In the end, when the sun had lowered on the horizon, Angel had only gotten one of the seven crates fully checked and transferred to the back of the ship. She was about to board the ship which would be taking the shipment to another undisclosed location for storage when a shout stopped her.

“Officer. I thought I made myself clear.” It was Ren. He continued walking up to her. “We are not going with the transports. We have a secure base here where your quarters are waiting.” He had not told her this; this was just a disguised way for him to give her information.

“Oh, that’s right. Hah, I’m exhausted from all that counting. It slipped my mind.” Her tone teeters on snobbish—an act. The white-haired woman turns to follow him, pretending as if she knew exactly where she was going and keeping her wandering eyes to a minimum. She kept them on Ren’s back instead, not realizing until she realized. Angel’s brow twitches. Geez, she thinks, he’s huge. She always assumed it was just his presence because she never looked at him for long. But now she’s realizing that he really was just monstrous. 

He continues to walk towards the mouth of a cave. There, waiting, was a four-seated speeder transport. He climbed inside the driver's seat and pressed a button to start the ignition. It fired up instantly, but not without some excessive smoke from the engines. It was obvious what she was supposed to do; get in.

Angel’s expression is about the same as a First Order officer when they see him coming down the hall. She didn’t trust him, especially after seeing his fighting style, but kept her mouth shut as she climbed into the seat beside him. Angel presses herself back into the seat, uneasily glancing around at all the controls. 

He lifted a metal lever, and the speeder began to move forward. Its outer paint was worn, and an entente on the front was bent, but by the sound of it, its internal machinery was in perfect working condition. 

The two of them leave the mouth of the cave and begin to accelerate even more, hovering a foot over the dusty and rocky floor of a canyon. He took turns surprisingly well, neither of them being thrown around harshly as he weaved around various rocks strewn across the canyon floor. The wind nearly swept away Angel’s hat as they continued to increase speed.

She lifts a hand to hold her hat as the wind whips her hair around her cheeks. She’d never ridden in a speeder before. Had always preferred to walk. 

The sky catches her eye, turning a purple-red as the sun begins to disappear entirely. The edges of it are fringed with stars, like freckles. She sits up in her seat, face tilted to the sky. She’d never seen a sky like this. Hays Minor was almost always overcast and what little sky she saw at night, while beautiful, wasn’t this color. “Woah,” it comes out involuntarily. 

A leather glove reaches for the metal lever and brings it down slowly. The blue, glowing engines behind the both of them start to dim as the speeder exerts less fuel on the engine. His turns become gentler still as his helmet remains entirely focused on the road ahead. 

Enraptured in the view, Angel lets a quiet statement leave her lips, “I don’t know how you can stand to stay up in that ship when things like this are available to you.” She sinks back down against the backrest of her seat, staring at the sky still. The wind that whipped Angel’s hair was now a low breeze and she smiled a little at the sight of a flock of distant birds soaring over the rippling canyons. 

“I don’t exactly have the free will you think, despite my position.” He took what looked like a ramp carved into the side of the cliff up to follow a path barely wide enough for their speeder. “If the Supreme Leader instructs me to do something, I must do that. If he asks me to isolate myself in my room on the ship for weeks straight, I would.”

Angel grumbles something under her breath as she crosses her arms, keeping her eyes far away from the cliff's edge. She knew she was doomed to the same life he lived now, only going out to planets to count weapons. Maybe she could find some solace in it; treasure those moments alone away from what felt like heavy watching eyes that waited in the Star Destroyer. 

She slides her hat off, holding it in her lap as the wind plays with her hair, webbing it out in the air behind her. Varkana was a beautiful planet. Angel knew to make the most of the eight days she had to survey everything in the shipment. Quietly, she wondered if he did the same, her eyes wandering across the control panel to the hands clad in inky leather. Or maybe he didn’t care about things like that at all. 

The speeder slowed as they neared the opening of a cave. Pulling into it, a large concrete structure with a similar design to the rooms in the Star Destroyer became visible. It was far enough back to remain hidden to anyone who did not know of its whereabouts. “This is where we will be staying and the only place you will give me your reports; but only once inside. Is that clear?” He spoke after he had shut off the speeder and its engines became silent. 

With a nod, Angel gives a firm ‘yes, sir’ before climbing out after him. The air here was damp and dusty and the desert’s cool, nighttime air blew in and whistled like a forgotten grandparent. It made her shiver as she followed behind the tall, looming shadow, whose boots thudded on the ground and drowned out the sound of her own. 

He typed in a passcode to a door and its red light turned green as it hissed and slid open with a shoot of steam. 

Inside, it was clean and dustless, as if someone had cleaned it recently. The first room had a small kitchen with a booth bench around a table on the opposite wall of the kitchen. A bowl of fresh and oddly-colored fruits sat on it. To either side of the main door were two small hallways, each leading to a singular door.

“Your room will be to the left,” he said as he stepped inside. “The things you packed have already been placed there.” Even if the First Order was corrupt and murderous, they still managed to have a baffling amount of time management and preparedness that maintained an air of civilized decency. That feeling was, of course, probably only exclusive and not shared by all in the organization. Angel was just lucky enough to be seen as desirable.

She peered around as she stepped inside, surprised to find a well-kept living space. “Okay.” She’d have a look around later. Right now, she tucks her hat under her arm and clears her throat after the door hisses shut behind her. “Should I give you my report now?” 

“Yes,” he said as he moved his feet and hands into that formal position he loved so much. That mask peered down at her, his height intimidating enough without it giving her an emotionless stare. The longer one stared at his mask, the more one could wonder why he wore it, and who was underneath. 

Angel mimicked him subconsciously, shoulders set back and spine straight. “Twelve Sonn-Blas F-11Ds are missing scope lenses, no issues with the hand grenades, and we’re missing about eight SE-44C blaster pistols. I’m also fairly certain that the Sonn-Blas F-11s aren’t coming from Son-Blas corporation. These are very convincing counterfeits.” 

He nods. “I want that written down on paper. Give it to me tomorrow morning. Anything else of importance?” 

Angel nods in understanding and is about to open her mouth to tell him ‘no’ when she notices something moving on his shoulder. She squints, stepping closer. 

It was a tiny white bug; round and speckled with red and it looked like it was just about to make its way down his chest. Without even glancing at that expressionless mask, Angel reaches up to brush it off his shoulder. “Bug,” she says, immediately realizing she’d touched him. Crap, she thinks, going pale, am I allowed to do that? “Ahem! No, no nothing else.” She begins to back away down the left hall towards the door that was hers. 

By the time her door shut, he remained standing, unchanged as if frozen in time. Finally, the sound of his footsteps echoed in the main room of the safe house and his door hissed shut moments later.  

Then, silence.

Angel didn’t know how long she’d been lying in bed. For the life of her, she couldn't sleep. Her first day playing the role of a First Order officer had gone well. In her opinion, she’d passed with flying colors and had nailed a system of quality checks without arousing suspicion. Sure, she was a little nervous for round two tomorrow, but a little nerves had never permitted her from absolutely tanking by midnight—which it was now. Every time she tried closing her eyes it was as if, seconds later, they had opened again without her realizing. 

Eventually, her stomach growls and her eyes blink open for the final time before she gives up and slips out of bed. Pulling on a thin robe, which was provided to match the nightwear she wore, Angel slips into the main quarters. The hall is dark but a shaft of moonlight spills in from the ceiling just above the kitchen area. Angel follows that light, smooth stone cold underfoot. It was so quiet and she felt very, very strange for a moment, knowing that one of the most feared men in the galaxy was sleeping just a short walk away. The thought dies when the bowl of fruit she’d seen earlier catches her eye. 

Angel nears them, tilting her head this way and that before taking one in hand to feel its texture. It was smooth, yellowy-cream colored. She shifted it from hand to hand before resting her rear on the counter and looking up into that window high above, where the stars twinkled like a sparkling blanket. When she took a bite… it was the best thing she’d ever tasted. She hums, taking another bite as she pushes off the counter to look around a little more. 

The kitchen has multiple cabinets above and below the metal countertop. The entire thing was symmetrical, with two burners directly in the center of it all with a hood over the range. There was a brewing machine in the corner and an arrangement of insulative cups. 

Angel pops onto her toes as she goes from cabinet to cabinet, looking inside. It was mostly cups, plates, and some instant food. She tosses the empty core of the fruit into a trash bin, licking her juice-stained fingers as she creeps back towards her door. 

That feeling from before returns. The same one she’d felt when she first stepped out of her room. Angel turns to glance at the opposite door, which is shrouded in shadow and deathly silent. It was strange. Uncomfortable. Like the air was humming without sound. 

Unnerved, she slips back into her room and locks the door. After burying herself under the covers, Angel falls fast asleep. 

—

After a few days, Angel fell into a manageable routine. In the morning, she’d sit quietly in the passenger seat of the speeder while admiring the view. During the day, she’d count and count and make mental notes of defects and missing numbers with little periods of rest here and there. And in the evening; she repeated the morning. 

The evening view was always her favorite. The sun set a different color every day. Sometimes the sky was pale white, sometimes it was red, and sometimes it was a streaky, purple-pink. The stars always twinkled in the edges of her vision.

 At night though, she’d get a nightmare or two. Mostly they were dreams about miscounting a shipment or slipping up and getting caught for impersonating a First Order officer. Sometimes they ended up fleeing and sometimes they ended in fear. Most of the time she woke with a start, the sound of Kylo Ren’s lightsaber crackling in her ears and fading into the dark of her room. 

Tonight was one such night. Angel sat up, slicked with sweat, and terribly parched. She blinked in the dark and brushed her bangs from her eyes as she settled back into her reality. No, there was no hole burnt into her chest from a vicious stab or the beam of a rifle. She was fine. But she was thirsty. 

Sliding out of bed, Angel pads over to the door and slips out. She’s left her robe this time, too sweaty to bother covering her nightclothes which was a simple—though, rather elegant—tank top and shorts. It was a fitting style coming from the First Order; sleek gray and neatly ironed. She tiptoed down the hall, following the beam of moonlight that spilled in above the kitchen.  

Under that moonlight, was a pale, glowing face, features hidden by long, dark locks. 

It was a brief glimpse how ever, for as soon as her nighttime companion noticed her, his figure quickly shuffled into the dark shadowy corners of the room.

“Y-you are awake. Did I wake you?” It was his voice. But his real voice. No muffledness or static, no robotic nature of a microphone amplifying his voice. So even he had trouble sleeping, one of the most feared men in the galaxy.

Angel’s breath catches in her throat as she stills where she stands in the center of the room. She turns her face away slightly to hide her shocked expression, pale hair falling into her eyes. She saw him—just for a moment. Heart pounding, she swore he looked…

His voice was so like and unlike that distorted one that came through his helmet. This one was raw and far, far softer than the one she was used to. “N-no I… couldn’t sleep.” Angel’s gaze shifts to her bare toes as she tries to act like she doesn’t care. “I came to get some water.” She moves then, cautiously slow, to near the kitchen. 

“Right.” The sound of continued shuffling echoed in the quiet kitchenette as he maneuvered closer to the booth and table while keeping himself out of the shaft of light.

There is a glass already sitting by the sink to the side closest to the hallway, just a small sip left in the bottom. Angel passes it by, grabbing herself a glass from the cabinet and filling it. She stands in that spotlighted moonlight, tilting her head back as she drinks like she’d been without water for days. 

She wanted to say something. Anything. About how she found it nice to hear his voice—his real voice, but it felt strange and out of place to say things like that, especially when he was… hiding? 

Angel sets her glass down beside his—empty—and glances his way. She could barely make out the outline of his hair; soft curls that felt unbefitting of a man with his name and reputation. “You… can’t sleep either?” She asks awkwardly. 

“Yeah.” He turned a little so that his back was more facing her but angled so he could glance from the side back to look at her. He began to shift on his feet, barely a visible figure in the dark.

Angel leans against the kitchen counter, keeping her eyes downcast. She’d gotten her water. She should be heading back to her room. She also knew this was a rare opportunity to be in the presence of the man, not the monster, and though she valued her own life she also valued the pursuit of knowledge. 

“When I can’t sleep,” she begins, shifting from foot to foot a little nervously. “I take ten deep breaths and try to imagine the most beautiful and calm place in the world. I imagine myself there, sleeping. Try it.” She’s a little embarrassed to admit something so corny, especially in front of Mister Galactic Domination, but Angel knew he was only human in the end… behind everything. 

She was met with silence as he quickly walked past her and to his room, door opening and closing as fast as mechanically possible. 

Kylo Ren lay in bed, eyes shut firmly tight as his hands crossed over his stomach, clenched.

He had been lying on his back for hours now after his run-in with Angel in the kitchen, stressing over what she had thought of him. He wondered if she had seen him. She had to. The face of the vilest creature in the galaxy, the creature he had forced himself to become. He angrily slammed over onto his side, curling up in frustration as he wished he could peel that moment from the past. 

Slowly, and quietly, soft words trickled into his head; what Angel had said moments before he left. 

A beautiful calm place… while counting to ten?

Ren closed his eyes and began to count slowly to ten.

He was not sure what he was seeing at first, mind jumbling things together as he tried to think of the most beautiful place he had seen. He struggled, all the memories he thought of ended in a bloody massacre of red and screams. He seemed to destroy everything beautiful in life.

Clenching his arms tight around himself, he took a series of breaths and forced his mind to turn off, internal vision going dark so he did not have to think of anything, bad or good.

That night, he had a vision. He’d had them before, plenty of times while training under his uncle at the Jedi Temple, however, he had had only nightmares since that horrific night. 

The vision started with tall, green grass blowing in the wind. He was in a field, watching a woman who was crouched down a few feet away from him picking some sort of vegetable from the ground.

Then, she stands, exposed to the wind. White hair blows in the sunlight, shimmering like stardust. The woman turns, a smile drawn on her face as she mouths his name. “Ren.”

Next

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

A light shower of spring rain for the sprigs of lavender lotuses and night sorrel

The Misty Range Woodlands is a planet, though many see it as a giant greenhouse - and they’re not wrong. It’s home to all kinds of rare and unusual plants that seem to only exist here, and so great care is taken to ensure that they remain as bountiful as ever.

Not surprisingly, it’s one of those places where you have to make reservations far in advance in order to visit. Thankfully, I have connections, so we got a good deal on one of their resorts thanks to the Epiphany since they’re here on a mission. What I didn’t expect was to also run into Jamie, Aislinn, and the Linnea squad, so that was nice. Jamie had been hoping to meet up with the Epiphany crew, especially since she hadn’t met Meiying and Hongxia in person yet.

As for why we’re all here, it’s to take a hands-on class on how to take care of lavender lotuses and night sorrel. Not too long ago, those two plants have been discovered outside of the Misty Range Woodlands, most which are native to those areas but were considered unknown until recently. And it turns out that there’s some growing near the camp, which is a pretty big deal.

Even if it wasn’t required, I still would’ve signed up for this class out of curiosity if someone suggested it to me. I think it’s fun to take random classes to learn something new without the pressure of having to be good or worry about grades - sometimes you’re just curious and want to try something out because it looks interesting.

Who knows, maybe you’ll find yourself enjoying the experience far more than you expected, which then leads you to wanting to take a deeper dive into it. That’s how I got into things like mechanical keyboard building, which I knew nothing about until I got one of my own and wanted to customize it after seeing a bunch of pretty and aesthetic pics on social media. Sometimes you just see something that looks pretty and you’re like I want that.

But really, making your workspace pretty while still functional helps a lot with your productivity. I mean, who wouldn’t want a nice looking desk that sparks joy when you look at it? Why must everything look so plain under the guise of professionalism? What’s wrong with having some color or design to show a bit of personality and make things a bit more visually interesting?

Maybe it’s just me, but having a mechanical keyboard makes me more motivated to get work done. They’re just so satisfying to type with, especially with the right key caps that look and sound nice - basically, it’s a sensory thing. A flat keyboard just doesn’t hit the same anymore.

Anyway, so learning about lavender lotuses and night sorrel’s kinda like that in terms of starting out with little to no knowledge about it, to now wanting to take a deep dive after learning a bit about the basics. I’m no plant expert by any means - I know a lot of people who deserve that title far more, though expert doesn’t begin to scratch the surface of their expertise - but I have picked up a lot of interesting tidbits over the years.

It helps to know someone who’s not only well versed, but also passionate about the subject. I find that they’re the ones who are more than happy to talk about it, teach about it, and just share their enthusiasm in general. Meiying and Nabil are two plant experts - though for very different reasons/fields - who easily fall into that category, so it’s no surprise that people often turn to them for advice.

In fact, Meiying was invited as a guest lecturer for this course since night sorrel - and moon sorrel, which is kinda related/under the same plant family - is native to Qiangshou. Both are used for its medicinal qualities related to improving sleep and reducing headaches induced by stress and anxiety. Along with having studied the plants extensively, Meiying also has firsthand experience on the medicinal effects. Over there, they use it in herbal teas, usually one whole sprig if taken before bed, or a handful of petals if taken for headaches.

Now that I think about it, I do remember seeing some night sorrel growing along the Crimson Maple River - she even pointed it out to us along with a million other unique plants that grow there. There were even a few sprigs hanging on one of the windows of her place, probably something they usually have on hand when needed.

So that was fun learning about, as well as a much needed break from an informative, though just as interesting, series of classes. Plus, Meiying’s good at explaining things as well as keeping the audience engaged, even when she sometimes goes off tangents, which I think adds to the charm.

Even though she never intended to be a lecturer, people back at home just assumed she’d be good at it because she knows so much about topics that most would consider niche - not to mention how clearly and thoroughly she explains things. Her first go at teaching a class kinda came out of nowhere - personal recommendations, one which happened to come from Hongxia’s sister-in-law.

What was the subject? Sex education. Because a lot of adults are lacking in that, which isn’t really surprising. Why Meiying specifically? Because she gets quite a few customers who are looking for some natural or herbal thing to increase their sex drive. Also, on the opposite end with people trying to suppress their sex drive, and maybe even induce abortions. Then there’s some who think they can treat STDs without having to see a doctor, probably because they’re ashamed and assume they can hide it.

Being an apothecary sure brings a lot of unusual cases, so it’s no wonder that Meiying picked up on a lot of different things. Although her official title’s an apothecary, people have referred to her as a detective, medical assistant, IT person, secretary, pharmacist, teacher, botanist, consultant, just to name a few. Still, even though she’s considered a jack of all trades, she considers herself first and foremost an apothecary, someone who just happens to be fascinated with medicine - not just in terms of treating an ailment, but also the process of making it and the pharmacology behind it.

Seeing Aislinn again was a nice surprise - same for the Linnea Squad too. Aislinn and Jamie are here to visit a friend and the Linnea Squad tagged along at almost the last minute. Basically, there’s shot going down with Linnea’s family, so Jamie’s taking them under her wing again until that drama dies down. Linnea already blocked at least 20 calls since we got here, which is a lot. Like, don’t they have anything better to do than to harass someone who’s not even involved?

She already made her stance clear by standing up against them and she absolutely doesn’t regret her decision. The other members - Florina, Nash, and Shirin - stood with her in solidarity, not just because she’s their leader, but because they had their own reasons for becoming disillusioned with the International Sanguine Watchdogs Army. Many have accused them of biting the hands that fed them, especially since they’re the reason why they’re still alive today, but that’s obviously their way of saving face.

In short, it’s a fucking mess that they’re lucky to get out of relatively unscathed, mainly because Linnea has one sympathetic family member who was willing to put their neck out for them. Linnea’s able to keep in contact with him, which is how she got the heads up about the current situation. She doesn’t know too much about the specifics other than it’s another one of those things that kept being swept under the rug until it piles up and now it’s blowing up in their faces. The older she got, the more she noticed that stuff like that was a regular occurrence, which is very problematic.

However, she did learn something that might be a bit of hopeful news from her adoptive brother Lauge regarding someone the squad assumed was dead. The squad broke ties with the International Sanguine Watchdogs Army for various reasons, and the annihilation - yes, that’s the word they used - of their comrade Altti’s squad along with countless others proved to be the last straw. Linnea and Altti were assigned to work together on an ill fated mission, resulting in him being the only survivor of a failed retreat.

The Linnea Squad barely escaped themselves, and Altti would’ve been killed too if Jet hadn’t insisted on saving him. By then, Linnea and Florina had grown fed up with the higher ups and their questionable decisions. Sure, things can get unpredictable and go from 0 to 100 in the blink of an eye, but straight up sacrificing your own people just to send a message and then playing them up to be martyrs is taking things way too far.

Like, damn, it’s basically an extreme case of if I can’t have this, then no one can. It’s like someone throwing a fit when they lose a game, except instead of flipping the game board, they just bombed the hell out of it. Then they declare it a victory because everyone’s dead, therefore, no one can object. No wonder Linnea and the others bailed out - I too would be like fuck this shit, I’m out, bye.

So for a time, Altti accompanied the Linnea Squad. He initially butted heads with them, mainly because he was older and wasn’t too happy with having to work with a bunch of kids, especially two who technically outranked him. Jet was the one who managed to get him and his squad to cooperate and see them as equals. When the higher ups brushed the tragedy aside like some cold statistic, the Linnea Squad stood in solidarity with Altti when he protested against their indifference. They didn’t expect a domino effect to follow afterwards, though they now know that it was bound to happen eventually.

Then in the span of a few weeks, the Linnea Squad lost three comrades - Altti, Jet, and Gabe. However, Altti didn’t walk out like the other two, and his status remains unknown, but presumed dead. Linnea was warned by her brother that the Sanguine Watchdogs was planning to seize the entire Sanguine Jurisdiction, which meant that the squad had to flee the country if they want to survive. For context, the main city is right in the center, so the closest border is about a 6 hour drive - even longer and more treacherous when you’re most likely traveling on foot most of the time, as well as trying to evade the military.

They were almost at the border when disaster struck, forcing the squad to split up in order to improve their chances of escaping. Linnea and Florina went north, Jet and Gabe east, Altti, Nash, and Shirin west. The westbound group was caught in a crossfire when riots broke out in the surrounding cities, forcing the higher ups to resort to extreme measures similar to what happened with Altti’s squad.

Nash and Shirin got separated and they barely escaped thanks to a civilian who was believed to be the last person who saw Altti before he disappeared in the chaos. As the riots escalated, the guys realized they had to make a difficult decision with Nash insisting that they not leave until they find Altti because it’s what Jet would have done while Shirin felt that they were wasting valuable time, even if he agreed that it wouldn’t be right to leave without him.

In the end, Lauge came in and practically dragged them out of the city despite their protests. He managed to reunite the rest of the squad at the border of Sanguine. Despite the risks, he wanted to see them off since it’ll probably be the last time he’ll ever see them face to face. Of course, the Linnea Squad was reluctant to leave when one of them’s missing, but Lauge told them that there was no turning back. If they refuse, their days will be numbered - no exaggeration, this is what happens when you live in a war zone.

Linnea had no choice but to do as he said, though she made him promise to do whatever he can to find Altti and help him out in any way he can. She says Lauge always keeps his word, which is why he’s the only family member she can trust at this point. A lot of people went missing and are presumed dead, so there’s a high chance that Altti is one of them, as much as she hates to admit it. Even so, he and all the other victims deserved better than to just be some “unfortunate casualty”, a term the army likes to throw around that Linnea’s grown to despise.

So there is finally a bit of hopeful intel coming from Lauge that suggests Altti survived the riots. He had heard some rumors here and there, but it wasn’t until recently when he came across concrete evidence that finally settled that matter. It’s still not much to go on since Altti’s current status remains unknown, but at least they now know that he escaped the riots and retreated south. Lauge plans to search the areas where he might have gone and hopefully uncover more information.

While the squad remains realistic, they really hope that they’ll be able to reunite with Altti. It’s bad enough having Jet and Gabe walk out on them - and that whole thing is just a mess. All Florina can say is that it’s for the best if they keep out of each other’s way, though they can’t keep that up forever. They agree that Jet means well, but he often fails to consider the bigger picture, which they fear will lead to his downfall. It’s still a bit of a sensitive subject for Linnea, but sooner or later, she and Jet will have to face each other and work things out.

The classes have provided a welcome distraction for the Linnea Squad - good thing there were enough open spots to squeeze them in. Nash isn’t certain, but he’s pretty sure he’s seen night sorrel in his hometown, or maybe it was moon sorrel, which looks similar. Meiying and the instructors don’t think he’s mistaken since both flowers have distinctive colors - shades of blue and purple, kinda like a galaxy. Yeah, that’s something that would leave an impression. Even though Nash’s hometown is in ruins and likely occupied by the Sanguine Watchdogs, it’s likely that there might be some night or moon sorrel growing in the ruins, so it’s worth looking into. Looks like getting into the class was meant to be.

Then there’s lavender lotuses, which are native to the Misty Range Woodlands. So far, there’s no known sightings of them outside of the planet. They have many uses - potions, perfumes, vitamin supplements, kombucha, and soups. Along with being a good source of vitamin C, they also help relieve stomachaches and reduce anxiety. While lavender lotus products are relatively common in these parts, they’re pretty much unknown outside of the Arrowroot Orbit - meaning, places like planet Earth. So they’re using this course to introduce the outside world to this otherworldly flower that’s basically their version of a dandelion.

Even though there’s a lot to learn about night sorrel and lavender lotuses, I don’t feel that overwhelmed. I mean, it’s a lot of information, though the hands-on stuff and Meiying’s interlude kept things engaging while also breaking up the monotony of just sitting through a bunch of lectures and video modules.

Read on AO3

[babybulls15]

I have to be honest, I've been STRUGGLING for the past week, both life-wise and to get something on paper I don't despise. On top of that it's already pretty late, but I promised myself I'd keep doing this and it's actually really motivating to just share this stuff with you. So I'm hoping I'll get back into the flow by putting stuff out there. Keep pushing or smth idk lol

Anyways, we're moving on to my prompt-fill for day 2 of the Ship Week, which is hopefully gonna be a short and sweet Lestappen piece! I'm capping it at 500 words (which I've never done, making it very interesting to see how that affects my writing process), so I'll hopefully get it done on time!

It's a pretty drastic tonal shift from the others, bc it's just supposed to be something light-hearted and fluffy, which hasn't been easy to write, what with me stressed and shit, but it's starting to take shape somewhat. So yeah, I'm very excited to share these sentences with you!!

-

Yes, Max is usually very good at staying calm under stress. At going with the flow and reacting appropriately to sudden - sometimes pretty drastic - changes in high-pressure situations. Usually. But these skills are normally restricted to work. To race weekends. To circumstances where he is prepared to expect the unexpected. And, if anyone even cares (Charles doesn’t really) at least to Max, a sunny Saturday afternoon during summer break, sitting in his mother’s garden, drinking coffee, does not immediately spring to mind as a similar setting. But maybe that’s on him.

✨Stats✨

working title: (almost) everything is better with glitter

currently standing at 255 (out of 500) words

prompt-fill for day 2 of the All-Ships-Ship-Week (“Who did this to you?”)

it started it's life as a Maxiel piece, but I decided I liked the idea better for Lestappen

As always, if you read any of this I want you to know that I’m very grateful for you!! Thank you for giving me the time of day, I’m so glad you exist!! 💗💗💗

[melit0n]

EUCLID ANALYSIS.

Part one -> Title and meaning

Part two -> Line by line analysis part one

Part three -> Line by line analysis part two

Part four -> You're already here!

Part five -> The Night in Sleep Token

Part six -> Conclusion

I’m no music major, so most of these have been brought about to me by my lovely moot @kkarmatic ! Full credit to them for pointing these out to me.

Euclid is played in an A# // Bb major mode, tones of which are typically associated with a form of a cleared conscience; a head empty at peace with it all feeling. However TNDNBTG, which is referenced multiple times in Euclid, is played in the same root key, except it’s moved a step down into G# // Ab. Once again, this is played in the major mode, but, with the step shift, TNDNBTG plays in a key that commonly conveys discontent and uneasiness; the notes deliver tunes that portray expansive viewpoints on a doomed/darkened existence. But, because the keys are only a step away, from a musician’s standpoint, Euclid is written as a reprise to TNDNBTG, even if we were to disregard the blatant nods to older tracks.

Euclid is the last track of TMBTE as TNDNBTG is the first track on Sundowning, therefore capping off the produced album trilogy since it works as a loop. Plus, it references the second farthest part of the past in Sleep Token’s music production; WTBB. It finalises past, present and (at least, possibly lore-wise) future.

Furthermore, there are also similarities between Euclid and WTBB from One. Although the keys are completely different (Euclid’s A# // Bb major versus WTBB’s D major), they’re played in very similar BPM. Euclid is played at a BMP of 135 and WTBB is played at two clicks off at 137, both of which are very close to stressed heartbeats. Quite often, with the main sound of the drums, Sleep Token is fond of mimicking (panicked) heartbeats, so, this adds to the underlying stress and contradicts the tone of the keys.

There are also a couple more references to their previous songs as well; the most even compared to the title song itself. At 0:15, a vocal melody very similar to that of Aqua Regia’s appears. At 0:43, the ambience effects sound very similar to those of Fall For Me’s. Lastly, at 2:05, the drum part that starts is directly from TNDNGTG.

[hopetorun]

“it’s almost just like how it was before” for the made-up fic title meme!

my first thought for this was actually leon goes to tampa futurefic but the @msmargaretmurry did this in a response for the same meme so i'm going to take this in a different direction.

our story starts in buffalo, new york, on june 24, 2016. draft day. auston matthew goes first overall to toronto, and patrik laine goes second overall to winnipeg. and then, instead of what actually happened that day, it goes the way people thought it would: jesse puljujarvi goes third, to columbus. and edmonton, picking fourth, takes the guy whose nameplate they already have velcroed to an oilers jersey: matthew tkachuk.

so matthew trucks his way up to edmonton, with aspirations of adding "winger for connor mcdavid" to his resume. now i'm gonna level with y'all: the oilers made me very, very mad in the summer of 2016 and hockey in general made me very, very made in the fall of 2016, so i've memory holed a lot of the details of the next couple of years. but luckily i'm not writing this story for real, so i can fudge and slur my way through that part!

matthew's career trajectory in edmonton isn't all that different from in calgary -- he's good pretty much from the jump, and with some ups and downs improves as he gets older (and a little calmer). he does get to add winger for connor mcdavid to his resume, but he ends up sticking mostly on the second line, as one of leon's wingers. there's a lot of reasons for it, but in part it's because it just drives the other teams bananas. annoyingness/60 off the charts. and matthew and leon are both having a blast the whole time.

i don't think they click instantly when matthew shows up in edmonton in 2016, because matthew's a hotshot, high draft pick, legacy, the whole nine yards, and leon's still feeling a little insecure about his place with the oilers. at least matthew's not a center.

so they don't click instantly, but it comes pretty quickly. matthew's a friendly guy, when he's not antagonizing every flames player on the ice (which frankly leon thinks is very funny), and he's smart about hockey, and a fun guy to hang out with.

and so we get a few years of the mcdavid-draisaitl-tkachuk era in edmonton. a lot of goals, and maybe not as much defensive responsibility as everyone wishes, a lot of people on twitter and capfriendly's gm tool getting stressed about the contract math. and they're right to be stressed about the contract math -- that's a lot of high-end offensive talent to have stored up, and it's gonna get pricey.

and then it's the 2021 offseason. matthew's already been a holdout, and he got his deal but everyone knows the next one won't be any easier, and mcdavid and draisaitl have their long-term deals but they're only going to get more expensive. they've been swept two years in a row in the playoffs. the front office wants results, and cap flexibility (that flat cap is already hurting). so matthew gets traded.

now, i don't think he and leon ever dated or anything at this point, but they were kind of dancing around the possibility for a while. another few years, or maybe one good solid playoff run, and it would've happened. (and by it i do mean falling into bed without actually talking about anything, but they would've talked eventually. both of them are too soft and serious about important things.) so for leon, matthew is this possibility. someone he almost got to have. it haunts him a little, when he lets it. and he misses the camaraderie he had with matthew, and how well they clicked on the ice. but that's just the business. he makes new friends and finds new guys to click with on the ice, and sure none of them make his heart beat too fast in the same way but he shouldn't be looking for boyfriends amongst his teammates anyway.

they keep in touch, a bit. it's hard with the grind of the season, and the time difference (matthew's on the east coast now) that doesn't even get any easier in the summers. leon fills up the space matthew took up in his life with other friends. more time with connor. other teammates. a dog. (it's a hassle, without someone living with him, but he's got a very generous neighbor and a big backyard and money to burn on fancy kennels if he wants.)

leon dates someone else, eventually. pretty seriously, living together kind of stuff. it is easier to deal with the dog this way. he learns just how annoying it is to play against matthew, and he tries not to laugh when matthew stares him down. the two of them get dinner with connor when the oilers are in raleigh (hey, we're playing the it almost happened game here anyway) and talk about the oilers circa 2017 experience. none of them win cups, but matthew gets the closest. leon determinedly isn't jealous, and sends him a nice text when the canes wash out in the conference final. again. but you know, it's not like leon misses him daily or anything. just at odd moments, when a play breaks down and he ends up with the puck, and he spins to find matthew on the ice, because matthew would've seen the same thing he did. and matthew's not there. matthew hasn't been there for years.

he doesn't ever ask if matthew's dating anyone, and matthew doesn't volunteer the information. he thinks it'll sting too much to find out, even though he is dating someone, and he hasn't told matthew about it.

matthew finds out, though, at an all-star game down the road. they're both there, and leon's boyfriend is too, and leon doesn't even introduce them. matthew's just saying hi to everyone, the way he does, and leon's boyfriend says leon invited him, and from the look on matthew's face, he doesn't even have to say boyfriend because matthew's got it all figured out. that shouldn't bother leon, and it bothers him a hell of a lot. (matthew's dated people too, but no one seriously enough to do something like this, and leon is right that he'd be hurt if he found out.)

leon signs a contract extension in edmonton. thinks about the possibility of retiring as an oiler. gets dumped, because his boyfriend gets tired of the late nights at home alone. the core of players he was striving for a cup with in edmonton is slowly breaking up. early-ish retirements. trades. the usual stuff. and leon wants to win, and he's starting to think that isn't going to happen in edmonton.

there's two years left on his contract and, well. he's looking, a bit. eyeballing other teams, looking at where he thinks he might be able to help the most. he has a full NTC, now, and the oilers won't be happy if he asks to be moved, but he thinks they'll make it happen. he can be flexible, a bit. he's good enough to command a decent return. connor will forgive him. he'll resent it, the freedom that his presence has given leon to do things like bail on the oilers when the going starts getting tough again, but he'll get over it. the deadline is creeping up now, and the oilers could still make the playoffs but it's looking more and more like they won't, and on the other side of the continent matthew's still -- well, he's not tearing it up like he used to, but he's putting together a decent season on a competitive team. and leon's jealous.

so he finally puts in the request. feels a little guilty but not enough to not do it. this is a business. he wants to win. he's won everything else, individually. maybe they've even won the president's trophy once or twice. but he wants a cup. the cup isn't the first thing he thinks about when all the chips are down and he's going to be matthew's teammate again.

it takes some getting used to, when it actually happens. matthew doesn't just plop back onto leon's wing and learn to read his mind all over again. matthew's an established guy on the team, he's already got a line. leon's playing a bit of wing, a bit of center. leon knows better than to have expected everything to just slot back into place but there was a stupid part of him that kind of wanted it anyway. it was so easy before! and now matthew's got a whole life here and leon's the interloper.

i think from here leon spends a while being in his feelings about it. not wanting to push too hard and upset the balance of this team, because they're winning. they're playing well. it feels good. but then the team's 2c gets hurt and he ends up slotting in, matthew on his wing again and oh, oh, that's the thing they used to have. leon is totally swept up in it, and along with it the crush he used to have on matthew. the thing that always felt like it could happen is still there, simmering under the surface. leon feels it when matthew slams him into the boards in a hug, and he feels it when matthew compliments him in a scrum and he feels it at the bar after the game, drink in hand and matthew leaning in close and grinning too wide.

it's not the same, exactly. they're both comfortably into their thirties now. older. more settled. matthew has a house in raleigh, which he never did in edmonton. even leon, uprooted midseason and in a new area, feels older and more stable than he ever did at 22.

they still don't act on it. matthew thinks leon got over it. leon doesn't want to rock the boat. but leon can't stop himself from pushing a little. touching when they don't need to. knees pressed together on the plane.

matthew does realize leon isn't over it somewhere in here. he's not an idiot. he knew what the vibes were back in edmonton, and he knows that leon's hand on his back at the bar isn't platonic. but leon doesn't push, and matthew's careful about these things. and they're winning, winning so much. winning in a way they weren't when they played together before, and it feels incredible.

gonna go big romance here and say this one ends when they win the cup. neither of them's on the ice but they pile off the bench together when the buzzer sounds, and after they've had their turns with the cup -- it feels even better than leon thought it would -- and after the night has finally wound down, leon grabs matthew by the wrist the way he's wanted to since matthew was 20 years old and so transparently trying to make everyone like him.

matthew comes toward him easily, until they're nearly touching, and leon finally, finally kisses him.

[cryiling]

what do we think about kpop idol au revalink where revali is from a big 3 company (i feel like he gives sm or yg but idk) and link is from a smaller company, but they get into a dating scandal because of dispatch's stupid dating dump at the end of the year or whatever

revali is appalled to have dating rumors with this little runt from a nugu group (he's lying, link is totally his type), meanwhile link is losing his shit bc it's his idol it's THE revali 🫣

im gonna use this ask as an excuse to talk about idols!link and revali bc I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS

first of all revali is def giving agust d vibes, that fuck capitalism and the government sorta songs, and he definitely writes his own music (he thinks that artists who don't write their own music aren't real artists). no wait like genuinely. have u guys seen the lyrics for all the songs on d-day?? and like the mv for amygdala?? totally breaking kpop industry norms and I can totally see revali doing that, like yes babes talk abt your mental health and traumatic experiences, pop off king !

I bet revali prefers doing hip hop style dances, like you're never gonna catch him doing those rlly simple trendy dances. nah he out here doing flips and bboying and stuff 😭 hmm like think back down or halazia level dances (bye not me finding a way to bring halazia into any conversation SJDHSJF)

also he definitely only sings live, no lip syncing for him. one day he gets sick and loses his voice but he still has a performance that day, and his manager is like PLS just lipsync to the track, literally no one will get mad I promise, and he's like bitch no and just has his fans sing the whole song (he goes viral for this, his fans bragging abt how revali would never stoop to the level of lip syncing while his antis are calling him lazy for having his fans do all the singing, then revali's fans clap back at those ppl and pull up the receipts of all the times their faves lip synced)

ok we need stage name and fandom for revali. hm tbh I feel like he would just keep his name as his stage name, like he probably thinks the idea of stage names is cringy 💀 help I need fandom name ideas. like, vale or something BYE. his company probably came up with a whole list of possible fandom names and he said no to all of them, atp his manager just picked one for him 😭

u mentioned revali is from a big 3 company, hmm yeah I'm getting sm vibes from him. how long do u think he trained for? probably a couple years, like 6? so he's very insistent that all his accomplishments are from his hard work

OK let's talk abt link! idk many small companies but ummm let's say like, gf or something (they have kingdom, slay!). do u guys know that one idol from loona I think? and she was a trainee for only one day? yeah that's link 😭 he auditioned for the company and they're like you're great! debut asap pls

link is just here to have a good time honestly, like he's going live at 3am to do drunk karaoke like jungkook fr 😭 he really has a passion for singing and performing, and at the end of the day he's just doing this for funsies, he doesn't let the stress get to his head too much, which, king behavior honestly

ik u said he's from a nugu group but honestly I'm seriously loving the soloist vibe from him, like if he was in a group he'd probably end up as the wonyoung of the group bc he just has that main character energy 😭

I can see link doing more upbeat/poppy songs, but he does the occasional ballad + contemporary dance combo that his fans go FERAL for. or,, omg. imagine him doing criminal by taeyang... 😊

his stage name.. L!NK bc he's quirky and not like other girls 😧 I bet his song titles are either in all caps or all lowercase too, he insists "it's for the aesthetic 🥺"

hm what sort of situation are they in where dispatch makes a dating scandal for them? OUHH MAYBE theyre both mcs for a music show (ignore that it's usually one guy and one girl) and they do one of those performances together and ppl are like 🤨⁉️ like imagine them doing the iconic dolphin dance together ✋ fans go CRAYZEEE the fancams hit like 20m views because their chemistry together really shines, even with such a simple song

their companies see how good they are for each other's publicities, so they really push for more of their schedules to be together.. which ofc comes at the cost of the dating scandal. they're hanging out together at some cafe idk, their managers told them to go hang out in the hopes that they would get some more publicity. what they WEREN'T expecting is for dispatch to declare that they're dating??? (that's a lie, link's manager (zelda) definitely knew smth like that would happen and she's the biggest revalink supporter 🤞)

when revali hears about this, he has a freaking meltdown to his manager teba, like 😭 lying facedown on the couch screaming into a pillow, "they think we're DATING?$:$;&2!;@/@ they really think a senior idol would go out with a rookie!!???!: SHUT UP TEBA HE IS NOT MY TYPE-"

meanwhile link has the BIGGEST celebrity crush on revali, like you know how jungkook is with namjoon? yeah 😭 so when the dating scandal comes out, link is just so flattered that people would think that he's worthy to be with revali- he's going around to anyone who will listen and is like "people think I'm with revali 😦🥰🥰" zelda is like girl calm down you're not actually together

[chrysochroma]

Hermit Horror Week

Day 1: Flesh

@hermithorrorweek apologies for my continual lateness

Title: Melatonin

Prompt: Flesh

Rating: Teen And Up

Words: 1,002

Warnings: Possession, Gore, Blood, Violence, Death, Horror

Summary: “Scar, this Resistance is so much more than you could imagine.”

read on Ao3

Grian studied the small red mushroom growing from his knuckle as he laid draped across the mycelium-coated diamond throne and waited patiently for Scar to arrive. His eyes focused back on the entrance as Scar, dressed in his pristine, turquoise pinstripe suit and top hat, walked into Town Hall. He froze in the doorway, staring at the fungus covering his diamonds, and Grian sitting atop it all.

“Grian! Oh, you…” He turned around, almost in disbelief, then back to Grian. “What have you done to my diamonds? I’ll have you arrested for this!”

Grian sat up and crossed his legs. “That wouldn’t change anything.”

“It would change plenty. The leader of the Resistance captured, that would do wonders for us.” Scar smiled.

“No,” Grian shook his head. “The Resistance doesn’t need me, it can do just fine on its own. I am simply a vessel for it to act through.”

Confusion flashed across his face for a second before he looked back at Grian, smiling. “We’ll see about that, mister.”

“Yes, we will.”

“Now, I hear by arrest you on accounts of treason and vandalism.” He looked down and typed a quick message to Bdubs, then looked back up to see an empty throne. “Grian! Get back here!”

Grian stood at the head of the quartz table in the middle of the Resistance HQ, his dark purple eyes meeting those of each of the Resistance members in turn. “You’ve all fought long and hard for the success of this Resistance, and I’m overjoyed to tell you that your efforts will not have been in vain.”

Impulse spoke up from the group of Hermits on the other side of the table. “So we won?”

“Not yet. But that’ll change soon.”

“Do you have a new plan?” Stress asked.

“No.”

The Hermits opposite Grian looked at each other with expressions of vague confusion before Etho spoke up. “Grian, if you don’t have a plan, how are we supposed to win?”

“I have that covered, Etho, it’s none of your concern. All that matters is that we greatly appreciate your support thus far, and I will call on you if necessary. Thank you.”

His eyes met each of the other Hermits,’ his face completely blank. They hesitated for a second before slowly turning and leaving the room.

Mushrooms and mycelium dripped from Grian’s wings as they folded out behind him. He made his way out of HQ through a hidden tunnel he had dug, then took off in the direction of Scar’s office.

Scar walked into his office and shut the door behind him. It’s dark in here, He thought. Did I close the blinds the last time I was-

He looked up at the window behind his desk and the figure sitting on his windowsill. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the figure came into focus.

Grian was staring straight at Scar, emotionless, his mycelium wings covering the window and keeping the office in darkness. Fungi seemed to grow straight out of his mottled purple skin—small capped mushrooms on his hair and wings, and shelf mushrooms covered his face and arms. They glowed neon green in the darkness, along with his eyes, illuminating the area around him.

“Grian! Oh, you are-“ He cut himself off with a laugh. “Resisting arrest, trespassing, more vandalism, the list goes on!”

Grian only cocked his head in response.

Scar continued. “How much more perfect could this be?” He smiled, then started to walk backwards towards the door. “You stay right there, Grian.” He started to turn the doorknob, but it refused to budge. He tried it a few more times before before looking back up at Grian, who was still staring at him. “Grian, what’s happening?” He still had a faint smile on his face. “This better not be an ambush, or I’ll- I’ll…” 

“This isn’t an ambush, Scar, just a meeting.”

“A meeting, huh? Well what do you want to talk about?” He walked across the room, his cane clicking against the floor, then started to pick at a piece of mycelium on his wall. “And was this you? Why’d you have to-“ 

He poked a hole in the layer of mycelium with the tip of his finger, then felt a warm, syrupy liquid start to drip out if it. Scar withdrew his finger and gaped at the blood coating it. “What the-“ He looked back to Grian, who looked just the slightest bit more frustrated. “What is this? What did you-“ He continued to scrape at the walls and more and more blood poured into his hand.

He strode towards Grian, his blood covered hand outstretched. As he got closer, the clicking noises from his cane hitting the floor stopped and were replaced by the feeling of it sinking into something spongy. He looked down to see that the end of his cane had punctured the mycelium below it. Blood coated the tip of the cane, dripping down onto the floor as he lifted it up to investigate.

“We would appreciate it if you didn’t do that,” Grian said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Why do you keep saying ‘we’? You’re the only person here, right?”

“There are many of us, and we are one.”

He laughed nervously. “Who are you talking about?”

“Scar, this Resistance is so much more than you could imagine.”

He slid off the windowsill, the mycelium on his wings stretching, forming webs, as he moved away from the wall.

“Grian, what are you- Hey! Stay back! Stay-“

Grian continued forward as Scar stumbled back, tripping over the vines of mycelium on the floor. His face stayed blank as he walked, ignorant to the fear on Scar’s. Mycelium vines floated out from the walls towards Scar, wrapping around his arms and bleeding into his skin. More and more of the fungi coated his skin, slowly clogging his throat. Scar gasped, then coughed, then choked.

Grian looked down at Scar’s body, slumped on the floor, his face still blank.