#vi getting emotional over stupid shit hours!

[siberian-khatru]

You know it’s probably a good thing I never got to go to a Rush concert because I probably would’ve been SOBBING through the whole thing and annoying everyone else around me <- person who cries watching live videos because I’m That Insane

[notmuchtoconceal]

I know the lil midget is a deeply traumatized child who can barely tell up from down because he's never had a stable and reliable understanding authority figure in his life, and it's like -- yeah, man. It's why I sympathize with him. Don't wanna have to grill his ass so hard, but like -- bro.

If somebody is making an effort to listen and bare your pain, day in, day out, like -- yeah, if you come to just expect it, and aren't willing to understand that having to endure your constant negative energy is a sacrifice which is getting harder now -- in part because of personal reasons, in part because you imagining and hyper-fixating on the gulf widening and replaying all your abandonment fantasies is exasperating it, and then it's like -- holy shit. I'm sitting here giving you all this free psychological counseling, and you're so low-broil psychotic, you can only see me as the bad man. There's only so much I can remain clam and endure you being violently mentally ill unprovoked before I just snap back, sweetie. You can't expect me to have the patience of a saint, then cry and feel unwanted when I have reservations about bashing your skull against the headboard and skullfucking the split in your suture like the mushroom cloud of your erupting brain. I mean, honestly man.

Did you ever try to consider my needs? You're a hurt woman, and a wounded child, and an angry vindictive man all wrapped up in one. You're fragile, temperamental, unhinged, and it's like ... what I liked about you was that your intelligence left me in awe, and like ... how we never ran out of things to talk about, and it's like ... that one night where we just talked about renaissance painting for three hours and it was already two AM and we never did again, cause it just ... I dunno. Never came up? You were constantly surprising me with how much you knew. Yet, you were also in so much pain. You were constantly flipping your shit over nothing. I had my own problems. I had my own things going on. Most of the time you were making so many assumptions so quickly, I could only sort of ... half-respond. Like, by the end especially, it started to feel like you were mind-fucking yourself to anal orgasm six times a minute, and just using me as a prop. Holy fuck, bro. What am I supposed to do -- what script am I supposed to run -- what mindset am I supposed to occupy -- when I'm both ten years younger than you, but also the only stable male presence you've got -- and you regard me, simultaneously and contradictory, as a father substitute, but also an average idiot millennial.

(Which, btw ... nobody else has ever seen me as either, let alone both.)

Like ... so much of your prodigious intellect is compensating for a total lack of emotional self-awareness, and it's painful. It's needy projective Ayn Rand oh-fuck-I-need-to-cuck myself style narcissism because, in your grandiosity you are both projecting an aspirational fantasy onto me, but you also need to think I'm weaker and stupider than you, so it feels safe to be with me -- this however, induces complications.

You? I saw you simply as a person of tremendous strengths and corresponding weakness. I regret that you leaving me in awe played into your existing narcissistic abuse vis-a-vis the idealization phase, but your mind & the depth of your knowledge truly left me in awe. It's just I didn't want to marry you because of personal incompatibilities, and I also didn't want you to be my only friend. If you were my only friend, that would play into my own narcissistic abuse, I wish you would have been respectful enough to feel out and respect my decisions instead of needing to blame me to let yourself off the hook. You probably learned that from your dad. I know you think of your dad when I ignore you. When I ignored my own narcissistic father, it gave me strength. If my coping mechanism is triggering you, you need to act in your capacity as a self-reasoning adult and remind yourself my own emotions matter more to me than yours, and yours should correspondingly matter less than sense.

Yeah, for real bro. You're short-sighted, selfish and stupid.

Nothing else I can fucking say. You're the source of your unhappiness.

Do something about it.

[crystalirises]

i am completely in love with your harry potter au, got any more crumbs? maybe some young georgebur falling in love? maybe some george x revivebur reunion?

(2/2) oh also I have this hc that not only did wilbur trust george with the hufflepuff cup horcrux just like bellatrix, but that he also made george's wedding ring into the ring horcrux (yk the one that poisoned dumbledors hand? except this one wouldn't be cursed obviously) so george would always have a piece of his husbands soul with him wherever he goes :,( <3 this is way to romantic in my head considering the fact that you have to murder someone and literally split your soul in half to create a horcrux🤦

hello! So this might not be exactly what you wanted cause I kinda like...

You know when you want to write but you're like... nah, I'm tired?

Yeah I'm currently going through that XD. My second year in college is starting next week so I've been busy with enlistment of classes and stuff. I did do something about this (along with other stuff cause I couldn't help myself and someone else asked before if I could make like a second prompt for what happens to Fundy after he got obliviated).

So yeah, this is like ten parts of drabbles that take place in this AU. Sorry if this isn't what you wanted. I'm very sorry.

Fair warning, some parts are dark cause... Georgebur are the villains and well they win and this is a Harry Potter AU, y'all know the villain, y'all know what his agenda is.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31985884/chapters/82666897

I. First Meeting

“You’re all bark, Mr. Soot.”

He stopped, one foot already at the top of the stairs. Wilbur threw a careless glance back.

And, oh, he was glad he looked back. There were many students within Slytherin, and he only recalled the most interesting ones. George Lore had always been very intriguing. “How so?”

“You’re charming, but I’ve seen your… skills. You’re not very sharp.”

Wilbur laughed, moving back down the stairs to where George waited. He’ll show him sharp.

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II. Expelled

“George Lore, the only man I will ever love, I believe this is where we part ways—”

“Wilbur, please keep your mouth shut and assist me with my luggage.” Of all the replies, Wilbur did not expect that. He glanced behind George where a bunch of suitcases waited eagerly to board the boat that would lead them back to the train station. Wilbur was stricken. When they’d expelled him for the murder of some… honestly, he wasn’t quite sure who he had murdered - some nobody mudblood, that was all… one, he had expected George to track him down just for the sake of lecturing him on his stupidity. Yet it seemed, that wasn’t the case. “Well, Wilbur? What do you say? Do we head home to your family’s manor or to mine? Either works for me.”

“Love, as much as I would love for you to stay at my home, what are you… huh?” George rolled his eyes, huffing before finally placing his bags on the boat, muttering on how useless Wilbur was and how he really was just charms and good looks. Not to be upstaged, Wilbur immediately took over, carrying George’s heavy bags onto the boat despite his confusion. He bit the bottom of his lip, watching as George stepped on board, sitting down as he waited for Wilbur to get his own bags into the boat. “Don’t tell me you’ve snuck out. Think of your grades, love, you care so—”

“I care more for you than some school who accepted those filthy mudbloods in the first place.”

Wilbur smiled, “And that’s why I love you. Whoever I killed, they had it coming.”

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III. Isolation

George was growing tired of the same dingy walls.

He never thought he’d end up in Azkaban, but fate tends to surprise you.

They trapped him in there, thinking that the dementors would drive him to the brink of madness.

He’d be damned if they were to devour his happiness. His husband was dead, and so was their son. There was no happiness in his mind, and he could not bring himself to hope. Hope meant food for those damned abominations. He’d keep his thoughts and his emotions kept under lock and key. He won’t let them take what was left of what he remembers of Wilbur and their child.

He refuses to lose them again. Not again.

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IV. Loss

He wasn’t an orphan, but now he felt like he was.

Fundy rushed out of the house, hands wet with sweat despite the cold and rainy weather of London. His bag dragged across the pavement, his shoes splashing against the murky puddles. He didn’t dare to turn back, he couldn’t. Dream and Sapnap would be devastated if they knew what he had done, but Fundy couldn’t stay and endanger his parents any longer. He loved them, they were the best parents a kid could ever ask for. But Sally and Jared Salmon would be better off thinking that they never had a son and that their lifelong dream was to move to the Netherlands. Fundy walked faster, scared that he’d turn back the longer he stayed near the house.

He could feel the tears gathering in his eyes, but Fundy knew he needed to be strong. Sapnap and Dream needed him to be strong. They’ve all lost too much. He won’t cry until the war is over.

Who knows? Maybe he’ll actually like living in the wizarding world.

He just wished it didn’t have to come with the cost of his parents forgetting he ever even existed.

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V. Wedding Ring

George found it to be quite amusing, honestly.

You would think that the Order would know better. Incompetent fools, all of them.

He admired the ring on his finger, a small smile on his face. When they’d dragged him away to Azkaban, they had given him the mercy of leaving the wedding ring that Wilbur had proposed to him with. It was hilarious, if only they had known that they had been looking at a horcrux.

His husband’s horcrux. He shook his head, gazing over at the man who stood at the head of the war table. A map of Hogwarts laid on the surface, his husband’s focused gaze nearly covered by his curly, dark chocolate brown hair. He’d join in on the brainstorming once Wilbur had gained a bit of a plan. While George did adore his husband… he was more the charms than the brains.

For now, he keeps a part of his love’s soul close to his heart.

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VI. Knitting Habits

He’s never held a knitting needle before in his life, but he can’t say that knitting wasn’t fun.

“I never thought I’d see the day. You’re getting old, love. Should I get you a rocking chair too?”

George threw a ball of yarn towards Wilbur, eliciting a laugh as it hit Wilbur directly on the face.

“Ever the humorist, Wil. It would be funny if it wasn’t coming from a man who literally came back from the dead and looks decayed.” He sighed, leaning against the wall of the alcove. Wilbur was still mulling over their plans, a crease in his forehead. “I’m making a scarf for our little son.”

Now here’s to hoping that Fundy would like it. George did do it with the colors of their family.

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VII. Home

He trembled, the effects of the spell washing over him like a pile of snow.

George was whispering into his ear, but Fundy couldn’t hear him over the sound of his own breathing. Dream was dead, Sapnap got hit by a crucio spell, and George was taking him back to be tortured all over again. He continued to shiver, tears pouring past his cheeks no matter how hard he tried to keep himself from crying. The world around them melted back into existence, but all he could feel was his heart beating loudly in his chest and the arms wrapped around him.

“Shh, shhh, you’re alright, sweetheart.”

His captor pulled him along, keeping an arm wrapped around his shoulders, squeezing him every now and then each time he tried to put a bit of distance between them. He was led inside a room, and from the way it looked, Fundy could tell it wasn’t an ordinary guest room. It felt too lived-in, too personal. George led him to sit on the edge of the bed, gently petting his messy and dirty hair.

“It’s alright, Fundy. You’re home with dads now.”

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VIII. Scarf

Fundy scowled, the scarf somehow tight against his neck despite it practically falling off.

He felt George adjust it back around him, fussing over him like he was a child and not some captive that they’ve been keeping locked inside their room. Fundy knew he wasn’t the tallest, his best friends already joke - well, they used to - about it, but George was just a foot taller and still he somehow felt even smaller. He huffed, moving away until his back was against the wall of the alcove. George didn’t make a move to follow him, simply sighing before turning back to Wilbur.

He buried his face against the scarf, trying to bring himself comfort.

If he tried hard enough, he could catch the faint scent of ash and black licorice. Sapnap had worn the scarf at some point during the battle since he thought it looked comfortable to wear. Fundy had given it to him since he didn’t know where it came from and it had been too big for him.

What he’d give to go back to that time, instead of clinging to the fading scent of his best friend.

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IX. Very Dark Blue Eyes

There was a stranger in his room.

Fundy nervously fiddled with the end of his scarf. His wand was still on the nightstand where he had left it, and the stranger was blocking his way. He’d barely seen anyone for the past few months aside from his dads, but he could already tell who the stranger was. The stranger was his age and had long black hair falling past his shoulders. Fundy knew he was a Halo immediately.

“Holy shit… Fundy! Finally, I’ve been scouting the fucking grounds for hours! This place has terrible security, well except for the wards but they were easy to break.” The stranger rambled on and on, each word striking Fundy with more confusion. He wasn’t sure why he was acting like they knew each other. Fundy had no friends - aside from his Uncle Tommy but Uncle Tommy was awkward around him - so he wouldn’t know the stranger, especially since they were a Halo of all things. The stranger moved closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “I missed you!”

“Who are you?” He moved away from the stranger’s hold, avoiding the stricken look that the stranger was giving him. Fundy scowled. Of all the times to leave his wand where he couldn’t reach it. “I know you’re one of those… Halos at least. Now, how did you get inside my room?!”

“Fundy…” Very dark blue eyes gazed at him, hurt dancing in their stare. “It’s me, Sapnap…”

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X. You’re a Wizard, Fundy

The letter came at some point during the night.

His mama had asked his papa if he’d enrolled Fundy in a faraway school by accident, but papa had said that he hadn’t. They were whispering about it during breakfast, throwing glances at him every so often as though they didn’t want him to hear. He pretended not to care, attention focused on his breakfast. Mama and papa weren’t arguing, but it almost felt like they were. He hoped that their conversation would be over soon, but it continued even after Fundy finished his breakfast. He left his plate on the table before walking out of the dining room and into the hall. Mama and papa didn’t seem to even notice that he had left. Now to find what was the problem.

He found the problem all too quickly, his scavenger hunt cut short by the fancy letter that had been left on top of a table in the hallway. Fundy held the letter in his hand, the paper coarser than most that he’d felt. He knew he shouldn’t be snooping, but his mama and papa never talked about something so incessantly, at least not something about him. He snuck back into his room, the letter clutched in his hand. Maybe he’d failed his entrance exam at the school his parents were enrolling him in? He pouted, but he’d studied so hard for it and it had been so easy for him!

Fundy didn’t know why his hands trembled as he tried to pull the letter open. Mama had folded it back to the way it had been, and he couldn’t really see the trace of ink at the back. A part of him wanted to hide it away, maybe then mama and papa would stop worrying about it. He didn’t know why, but a part of him felt like something was about to end the moment he opened the letter. He took a deep breath. He could handle long hours of studying, even though his mama and papa said it wasn’t healthy for him to stay up so late. He could handle what was inside the letter. With shaking hands, he opened it, scanning the life-changing words that were meant for him.

If he only knew what that letter meant at the time, then maybe he would have just burned it.

[themattress]

I recently saw this movie again and it’s somehow both just as good as I remember and worse than I remember. See, I first saw this in one of the earliest years of grade school, and the very young me was absolutely enthralled by it. Something about the cute, kid-friendly dinosaur children characters set against the backdrop of a dark, gritty, atmospheric hellscape where everything is out to kill them, on a journey with mysterious spiritual undertones kicked off by the traumatic death of a parent...it just grabbed me and didn’t let go. This, along with The Secret of NIMH, An American Tail and All Dogs Go to Heaven, was Don Bluth at his best.

Unfortunately, while I still enjoy it, I just can’t look at it with the same wonder-filled eyes because....it’s short. It’s literally just about an hour long. And the reason for that is because executive meddling from Steven Spielberg and George Lucas made hash out of the whole thing. Beyond so much of Sharptooth’s screentime that they deemed “too scary” which as a consequence neutered his intended characterization as a sadistic, psychopathic killer rather than just an instinct-driven animal, we also had perfectly good scenes dealing with the sub-theme of prejudice and dialogue dealing with the core theme of spiritual faith removed for no good reason other than Spielberg and Lucas thought them to be boring and unnecessary (Bluth didn’t, though, and I value his input over theirs since he was actually making the film!)

But the biggest casualty is the ending. I can’t appreciate the ending as much anymore because it isn’t the originally intended ending and that’s all too visible in the finished product once you have that awareness! After his fight with Cera and separating from his friends, Littlefoot was supposed to keep on climbing upward until he ended up finding the Great Valley. The whole scene at the end where his mother’s spirit guides him to the entrance to the Great Valley belongs at this earlier point. Because he had faith and took the difficult path, Littlefoot reached paradise, while Cera and the others who abandoned faith and took the easy path instead condemned themselves to a Hell-like area where they will surely die. Littlefoot realizes that he has to save his friends, so he turns back to do so rather than enter the Great Valley by himself. But as a consequence, Sharptooth, who has been tracking Littlefoot’s scent, ends up finding out where the entrance to the Great Valley is and fully intends on slaughtering all of the dinosaurs in the Great Valley simply because he can.

Aside from the obvious spiritual symbolism, so much gets lost with how this ending was changed. We never see the moment where Littlefoot decides he has to turn back and save his friends. The narration says that Cera “went the wrong way”, but we don’t get any visual proof of that since it’s never clarified that they get to the Great Valley via the upward path Littlefoot was taking earlier. The heroes just up and decide to murder Sharptooth for no good reason other than I guess vengeance for Littlefoot’s mother, since the original heightened stakes of him finding the Great Valley and going on a murder spree are gone. And the scene where Littlefoot is guided toward the Great Valley’s entrance now makes no geological sense; the film’s physical continuity is completely shattered. Even things like there being no reaction from anyone but Duckie over Petrie’s survival and the big group hug being transplanted into the Great Valley as the film’s last shot irks me, since the original last shot to close the film being Littlefoot smiling upward while telling his mother’s spirit that he’s gonna be all right because she’ll be in his heart forever makes so much more dramatic and emotional sense!

Bottom line: the movie’s still great but it’s only half of what it was supposed to be and should have been. I recommend this book as a supplement, since it contains the real story:

(Also, as for the many DTV sequels the movie spawned, none of them had Don Bluth’s involvement and thus none of them really feel like they fit into the same world we see in the original movie due to the drastically lighter tone. Personally, I think the only ones that are halfway decent are II, III, VII and X. The rest are pretty much shit that either hold good ideas that are horrendously executed, or are dead on arrival conceptually. Avoid them at all costs.)

(Except maybe VI, since what they do in that is so stupid that it must be seen to be believed.)

[wonkasmissstarshine]

The Chocolate Prince and The Lovely Maiden {Willy Wonka x Rose Bucket AU}

Chapter 1

Once Upon A Time... The Lovely Maiden

Tagging: @holdmeicant @frozenhuntress67 @pastelmoonwitche @arinnasweetslove​

We begin our story in the land of Candania. It was a large kingdom, ruled over by King Wilbur. Candania consisted of the castle in which the King and his son, Prince Willy resided in. About an hour’s travel away from the castle, was Sweetstown. It’s where the common folk and businesses of Candania resided. Then finally, we have the Grand Forest. Barely anyone ventured out into the grand forest, unless it was for hunting or gathering purposes.

Though, there was a family who made their home in the forest. The Bucket family had lived in a cottage. It wasn’t the biggest cottage, but they called it home. 

The Buckets consisted of married couple Nathaniel and Hellena Bucket. Nathaniel was an adventurous man. He’d frequently find himself on travels, sailing across the seas. He’d discovered many wonderful places on his journeys and would always tell his wife of the wonders he’s seen. And he always promised that one day, he’d take her on a trip.

While Nathaniel went on his adventures, Hellena stayed within the cottage. She took up baking and gardening to keep herself occupied while her husband was away. 

One day, Nathaniel had returned home to find that his wife was with a child. It was a beautiful baby girl. She was named Rosalie, but was called Rose for short.

But Rose wouldn’t be the only child that Nathaniel and Hellena would have. Fourteen years later, they welcomed another child. A son, who went by the name of Charlie.

Yes, the Buckets were a happy family. But, where there is happiness, tragedy will follow.

Hellena had become terribly sick. Nathaniel and Rose knew that she wouldn’t be getting any better. And Charlie, well, he was too young to understand what was happening. Nathaniel and Rose did everything they could to make Hellena’s final days comfortable.

Then came the day she finally passed away. At least now she was at peace. The Buckets mourned their loss but knew that Hellena would want them to move on.

And Nathaniel eventually did. He came home from one of his journeys with a woman on his arms. Her name was Avonmora. She was beautiful. Her raven hair flowed freely down her back. Her skin was pale but flawless. Her eyes were an almost dark grey. Her lips painted a blood red colour. And she had cheekbones and a jawline so sharp, you could almost cut yourself on them.

Rose and Charlie quickly warmed up to her, and it seemed that Avonmora also warmed up to the Bucket children. Not long after meeting, Nathaniel and Avonmora married in a small ceremony.

It wasn’t until Nathaniel went on another journey, that Avonmora would reveal her true colors. She despised the Bucket children. When it came to Charlie, what she hated most about the boy was that he was always daydreaming and rambling on about how one day he would leave the cottage and go exploring like his father.

Now that wouldn’t do for Avonmora.

But Rose... oh, that sickeningly sweet Rose... she hated Rose. It was clear to see that Rose was growing up into a beautiful woman. Possibly the most beautiful woman in the entire kingdom. And Avonmora hated that.

For she was supposed to be the most beautiful woman. Not her step-daughter.

Avonmora wouldn’t let Rose leave the house. She was afraid of a man seeing her and falling in love with her. She didn’t want Rose to marry and move away. She didn’t want Charlie going off on adventures.

Because where else would she find servants to do everything for her?

Another tragedy struck the Bucket family when Nathaniel had suddenly passed away. It was illness, just like what had taken Hellena. At least Nathaniel and Hellena were together again.

Rose and Charlie mourned for their father.

But Avonmora... she didn’t even show one ounce of emotion.

Avonmora was the one to inform the children of Nathaniel’s death. Rose was shocked that her step-mother was able to share the news so calmly. She couldn’t help but think perhaps Avonmora had something to do with it, but she had no proof of such a thing.

And once Nathaniel was gone for good, Avonmora showed no end with her cruelty. 

She would overwork the two children. She barely even let them eat. She would try to keep them in the house as much as she could, but still, Avonmora would have to take one of them with her when she made her daily trips to the town. So, she took Charlie and left Rose behind, for fear that a man would lay eyes upon the blonde girl and fall in love with her.

While Avonmora was gone, Rose would defy her and venture out into the woods. And during these trips, Rose had made a few friends.

The first friend Rose made was an odd friend indeed. It was a goose named Honkers. And Honkers wasn’t just an ordinary goose. He was a talking goose. Honkers himself wasn’t quite sure how he could talk, but Rose had no doubt that it was due to some kind of magic.

The poor thing had been running away from a hunter. The goose looked up at Rose with pleading eyes. “Please, you mustn’t let the hunter kill me!” Honk! “He intends to waste me! Kill me for sport!”

Rose hid Honkers away and quickly befriended the goose. But once the hunter came around, the goose was no longer his pray. 

The hunter was named Harry and as soon as he laid eyes on Rose, it was infatuation at first sight. He didn’t introduce himself to her right away. No, he followed her for awhile, until she returned to the cottage. He made note of the cottage and when he returned to the woods the next day, he would introduce himself to her.

But Harry wasn’t the only hunter that came to the woods. Priscilla was known in Sweetstown as the Baker’s daughter. She loved her father and she loved helping him in the bakery, but what she wanted more than anything was to become a warrior. She wished to one day join the Prince’s guard, but women weren’t allowed to fight.

Hell, Priscilla was already treading on thin ice when she went out hunting, which was also a man’s job.

Priscilla’s father knew of his daughters many ventures to the woods and he didn’t approve of it, but she was bringing fresh meat in so he just let it slide. If Priscilla got caught, she gets caught.

The day Rose and Priscilla met went something like this....

Avonmora had took Charlie to the market again. Rose decided to venture out with a basket in hand, and Honkers following behind her. The two of them were heading to Rose’s favourite cherry tree, where the cherries grew fresh and ripe every day.

But their little stroll was interrupted by an arrow flying past them and hitting a tree. A deer, the intended target, had run off, frightened.

“Oh, no!” Honker’s exclaimed. Honk! “The hunter is back! Hide me away, Rose!”

Rose grabbed her feathered friend, but before she could run off with him, a woman’s voice spoke up. “Hey, blondie! You just scared off mine and Papa’s dinner! That was going to last us two weeks!”

Rose turned to see the girl approaching. Like Rose, the girl was blonde except her hair had a reddish tint to it. She had piercing blue eyes, and sharp and striking facial features. But what stood out most to Rose was that the girl wore leather armour and carried a bow in her hands.

“Excuse me,” Rose narrowed her eyes at the huntress. “You missed your target! That should be in no way blamed on me”

The huntress scoffed. “Me? Miss? Ha! I never miss” She smirked proudly. “I never miss. I’m the best hunter in Sweetstown” She boasted. “Hell, you might say I’m the best hunter in all of Candania”

“I’ve never seen any female hunters in these woods” Rose mentioned.

“Well, that’s because females aren’t allowed to hunt. But, frankly, I think it’s a stupid law” The girl rolled her eyes. She pulled the arrow out of the tree and put it back in her quiver. “Whoever came up with that rule can bite me in the ass”

Rose laughed at the girl’s choice of words. “I’m usually not a fan of hunters. Well, the ones that hunt for sport anyways. But, you seem rather pleasant”

“Ugh, I hate the ones that just hunt for fun” Priscilla scowled. “When I hunt, I tend to go for the bigger animals. Something that provides enough food for about two or three weeks”

Honk! “That doesn’t mean she won’t put an arrow through me!” Honkers accused.

The huntresses eyes widened. “Holy shit, a talking goose!” She then laughed and pat the goose on the head. “I won’t put an arrow through you, I promise”

Honkers seemed pleased with the answer. “Okay, I trust her!” Honk! “The name is Honkers”

“Priscilla, at your service” The girl introduced herself then bowed. “And what might your name be, miss?”

“Rosalie, but you can call me Rose” She held out her hand.

Priscilla smiled and grabbed it. They shook. “Rose, I have a feeling this is the start of a beautiful friendship”

Priscilla was perhaps the closest friend that Rose ever had. She confided in her about everything, especially about her step-mother. Priscilla vowed that one day, she would take Rose and Charlie, and the three of them would run off somewhere where they could never be found. They could run free, not bound by any rules.

“Since I can’t be the Prince’s personal guard, Rose, I’ll be yours” 

And lastly, when it came to friends, there were three sisters that Rose held dear to her heart. They also lived in the forest, not that far away from the Bucket cottage.

There names were Fiona, Liona, and Briona. Fiona was the oldest. She had short, curly, pale blonde hair. She actually held quite the resemblance to Rose’s own mother. 

Liona was the middle child. She was also blonde, but it was more of a natural looking blonde, like Rose’s hair. Liona’s hair was longer than Fiona’s. She never put it up or secured it back. She always let it fall.

And lastly was the youngest of the sisters, Briona. She was definitely more childish of the two of them, but she was still wise like her older sisters. While Fiona and Liona sported blonde locks, Briona had bright pink hair. She often kept her hair pinned up in a fashion that made it look like cotton candy.

Rose visited them every day, and also picked from the cherry tree that grew in front of their house. Every day, the sisters’ tree grew fresh cherries. Rose always made sure to pick plenty for the day. She always had enough to put into a pie and have some left over that she could share with Charlie, Priscilla, Honkers, and any other animal that decided to stop by for a tasty treat.

The sisters cared deeply about Rose. They made sure to keep an eye out for her for they knew of the true nature of the woman named Avonmora. The dark secrets that she held.

But the three sisters held secrets of their own. Ones that would be revealed to Rose when the time came.

Rose didn’t know it yet, but her life was about to change. She never thought that she’d fall in love.

She didn’t yet know that her brown eyes would meet his violet ones.

She didn’t yet know that they’d fall madly in love.

She didn’t yet know the chain of events that would unravel after they do.

[taeswurld]

Ace VI [Shitshow]

pairing: bakugo x fem!reader 

genre: humor, romance 

TW: violence, cursing, angst, fluff

Summary:

 Shifting into My Hero was a total mistake, all those tiktoks you watched on a daily about shifting somehow convinced your brain to take part. Now the question is how to wake up, and most importantly, DON’T GET ATTACHED TO STUPID DRAWINGS!

A/N: 

HI! New chapter! Kinda late! Sorry! Let me know if you wanna be mentioned in the taglist! Here’s Shitshow!

{ACE MASTERLIST}

After that shitshow, you took a nap. 

It’s not that you passed out, no no. 

You definitely did not pass out in Bakugou’s arms. Nope. 

You simply took a nap. A three hour nap. You just so happened to fall asleep while he was holding you. End of story. 

To be fair, you had a really tiring day, and it was only 4 in the afternoon. 

You woke up in an alternate dimension with no clue what was going on whatsoever, and then realized you had superpowers. In fact, a power so super, it was difficult to control. 

Once you came to, you realized you weren't in Gym Gamma anymore, but instead in someone’s room. 

Hmm. Smells like cinnamon. 

As you looked around, you found Midoriya and Todoroki holding ice to their heads and Bakugou cleaning up the dried blood down his ears, grumbling about how this ‘always fucking happens’ and ‘why do I even fucking bother’. While you were lied down on a bed, Bakugou was looking at the hanging mirror and Midoriya and Todoroki were sitting on some beanbag chairs. 

When you made a quick move to rub your eyes, Midoriya stood up and walked over to you. 

“Y/N! You woke up! Are you feeling better?” Midoriya asked. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Where’s Hiro? And where are we?” You asked as you moved to sit up. 

“Whoa, slow down there, Y/N.” Todoroki moved to push you back down. “Hiro’s taking a nap under the bed. His tail’s hanging out.”

At the sound of his name, he crawled out from under the bed to check up on you. Moving your hand to pet his fur, he sat on Todoroki feet. 

“I think your wolf is sick. He’s acting quite odd. Earlier he kept rubbing up against me.” Todoroki told you with a deadpan expression. 

“No, Todo, I think he just wanted a few pets. And he’s a husky, not a wolf. I don’t think I have enough talent to train a wolf.” You quirked an eyebrow at his comment. Jesus how dense is this guy? 

“Where are we anyways, it looks familiar but I can’t straight out recognize this room.” You ask, checking out the room. 

There was a few posters hung up, a couple of model airplanes on a shelf, along with school books. A desk was at the corner of the wall, piled with papers, a laptop, and a couple comic books. There was a couple of shoes on the floor, and some clothes sprawled out. And it smelled strongly of men’s cologne, but it wasn't cheap or tacky, it was for sure expensive, like the type a celebrity would wear. And caramel. Your nose was filled to the brim with the smell of caramel. 

“We’re in my room dumbass,” Bakugou says as he turns around, finally getting all the dried blood out. “After training, the four of us usually end up here for whatever goddamn reason. Even though I’ve said more than once that you fucktards aren't allowed here.” He said rolling his eyes complaining. 

“Okay Mr. Attitude, I didn’t order an extra side of sarcasm with your stupid ass answer. But thanks for taking care of me, I guess.” You said giving him a small smile of appreciation. “I like your room by the way. It’s very, Bakugou of you.” You said as your smiled widened to a full grin. 

“I’m sorry, just how the fuck did you use my name?” He said giving you a small, but semi playful glare.

“Moving on,” Midoriya said pressing his lips together, trying his best to prevent a smirk from showing up. “Y/N, your control is has gotten a little worse.”

“You’re control has gone batshit crazy.” Todorki butts in with a small smile. 

“Well, I mean, I wouldn't put it that way,” he says giving him a slight glare. 

Todorki’s smile grows wider, giving Midoriya a small shrug. 

Turning back to you, Midoriya begins going on about how you had an amazing control for a quirk so powerful. “It was insane. You could be the angriest person in the room, angrier than even Kacchan-” 

“Highly impossible, this man is a chihuahua incarnate.” You said, giving a small smirk, finally moving to sit up so you can semi-look them in the eye. 

“Okay princess, you’re lucky you’re injured and I’m feeling nice, because if it were up to me, your attitude would've been given a check a long ass time ago.” He says turning to you to give a small scowl. 

“Anyways,” Midoriya cuts in, giving both of you an annoyed look. “You’re emotions could be overflowing, but you always managed to keep your quirk in check. However, in the last couple of days, I’ve noticed you become slightly more agitated, up to the incident that happened last night, and then this morning, waking up to a pounding headache and in what you call an alternate dimension.” He says crouching down a little to be at head-level with you. 

“Yeah, I don't really understand that.” Todorki says, furrowing his eyebrows. “You were completely fine yesterday, other than being a little bit quieter and more snappy than usual. How the hell did your conscience manage to switch you out to a different dimension where you believe this is all fake?” He turns giving you a confused look. 

“Look, in all honesty, I don't know. All I know is that you guys were like, in this T.V. show I watched a lot, and then I woke up IN the T.V. show. Like literally yesterday I was attending my online classes, I scrolled through my phone a little and then I took a nap. Next thing I know, I wake up here, no memories of this place, or any of you. Shit, I know what memories you guys claim to have with me, but frankly those are all experiences I’ve read in like fan fictions” You say.

“What the shit is a fan fiction?” Bakugou asks, giving you a very much confused, yet judgmental stare. 

 “Not important,” you claim, blushing. These guys do not need to know that you’ve literally read about them fucking your brains out, especially Bakugou. God knows you’ll never hear the end of it. 

“And everyone keeps talking about this incident that happened last night. But nobody has filled me in. You mind telling me what's going on?” You ask, giving each of them a questioning stare. 

“Last night you went out to train your quirk.” Midoriya says. 

“You’ve said you’ve been feeling off for days. When I tried to talk to you about it, your bitchass got all pissy and then stomped off.” Bakugou says looking away, a little pissed off at the way past-you pushed him away. 

“When we went to go check on you, your were losing control of your power, your hands covered in this blinding light before it took over your entire body. Aizawa had to come out to stop you because you were screaming in pain really loud. Once he turned off your power, you had blood oozing out of your ears and  you were passed out.” Todorki says, not giving much attention to you, as he was too busy giving out stiff pets to Hiro. 

“We called out to Recovery Girl, but she said the only thing we could do is make sure you get a good nights sleep and hope you wake up better in the morning.” Midoriya says giving you a soft stare. 

“Jesus christ that sounds like a shitshow.” You say, rubbing your temples in hoping to relieve some of your stress. 

“You can bet your ass it was. You weren't even supposed to go to train today, but Tweedle Stupid and Tweedle Stupider,” Bakugou says giving Todoroki and Midoriya a harsh glare. “decided to test out your control again. Apparently the fact that you may not be okay didn’t cross their pea-sized minds.” He growls. 

“Hey! You know just as much as I do how important it is for her to maintain her control. We’ve gotta see where she is. After all, she’s got one of the strongest quirks in the class.” Midoriya says defending his actions. 

“Dude, she’s literally the only person who could keep up with our crazy training schedules. And,” Todorki says giving him a glare right back, “you forget that she was also a target at the training camp. Only difference is I managed to grab her out of the League’s hands. Her quirk is literally wanted everywhere. If she doesn’t get her shit together soon, she can end up in danger real quick.” He states. 

Sheesh, what a fucking reality check. 

Well, as ‘reality’ as this dimension gets. 

taglist : lanaxians-2

[killjoysecrets]

Hey I'm adding this to your post about Vi. This is going to be not only long winded but angry too. I have a lot to say.

I don't feel safe doing this on my public account for reasons I think you'll see later.

I've known Vi on two different platforms now and what I've seen from her discord is disturbing. Ships with minors (17 & under), gaslighting teenagers, provoking children until they get upset so she can claim they're somehow the only person in the wrong, etc. It's all topped off by emotional manipulation and complaining about how "loving" she is. She'll make them (teenagers) feel guilty for having any issues with her by complaining about her childhood or real life.

She also frequently deletes messages that showed her in the wrong.

I have a good example but I haven't talked to the victim in the situation, so I won't share his story (at least yet.)

Whenever a teenage member of her server has a problem with her in or out of character, she'll provoke them until they blow up at her. She adds in little words, phrases, and random information to make them look stupid or feel terrible for something totally different.

She often provokes these fights by passive aggressive/mildly upsetting messages over the course of days or even hours. These are both in and out of character.

She'll tell them they're lucky she's been "so kind", how rough her life has been, how inconsiderate they are, and how so many other people on the server have anonymously complained about them to her.

Not only is she emotionally manipulative, but that's an example of reactive abuse. When you do and say things that you KNOW are upsetting your victim until they blow up back and you make them take all the blame afterwards; That is reactive abuse.

I also spoke to a different member– who is also under 17– that has records of Vi essentially shit talking other teenagers on the server to them and asking for emotional validation. She also told them about the group running this thread.

Nobody should ever be put through that, let alone a 16 year old who had been promised a "safe space" by her and her friends.

If you are in her server and still think nothing she's done is strange; ask yourself why a 32-33 year old woman is constantly chasing teenagers for validation and emotional support, causing drama with 16 year olds, and having (whether simply stated or out right rped) sexual ships with minors in her groups. Those are massive red flags.

thank you for sharing

[oh-sweet-mama]

Lonely (VI)

T.W - talk of self harm, talk of suicide

3 weeks later 7 days until the full moon Remus

The feeling of my shoulder blades cutting into my ribs, just added to the feeling of the dulcet ache that seemed to consume me.

3 weeks. 3 fucking weeks. Y/n can't stand to be in the same room as me. Let alone my D.A.D.A partner, but she somehow tolerates it.

Fully cooperating with the work we have to do, like a royal servant. Matching purple under eye bags adorned both of our faces, but somehow made her more eternal.

Over the weeks she had slowly stopped coming to the meals at the great hall, and the effects were starting to show. Her cheek bones were becoming more prominent on her face, and her usually rosy color, long faded away.

The usual radiant y/c/e's faded away to leave a monotone grey. She seemed so fragile, like a Porcelain doll, if only I had treated her that way.

So fuckin' stupid Remus.

A note hit my forehead and landed in front of me.

Keep staring at her like that she'll end up with two holes In the side of her head.

S.B

Recognizing the messy handwriting, before even finishing the note, I immediately knew who it was.

The feeling of tears pricked the sides of the eyes, but I ran out of tears to cry long ago. Instead the feeling of a dulcet ache in the chest replaced the physical show of emotions.

6 days until the full moon Y/n

My shitty diet consisted of Tea, cigarettes, and what ever my friends brought me back to the dorm. Of course I tell them that I'm not their responsibility, but they still bring me the occasional muffin or biscuit.

James brought me entire meals, of which I could barely consume the entire thing.

You have to do it you have to tell him.

No. No I couldn't. I can't risk losing someone else. He would hate me if I ever told him. Send me to the ministry, report me to Dumbledore, hell I'd get kicked out of Hogwarts.

I still maintain physical hygiene and grades. The two most important things. Can't smell and can't fail.

The ache in my chest was never there, maybe it had to do with the fact that I'm always high enough to fend it off.

First tip, the best way to get over someone, get all the emotions out, get numb, act like it never happened.

Easy, right? No. You can't just act like it never happened, he was all I had, all I'll ever have.

I just wasn't good enough.

I stopped going to parties, instead focused on my studies. One of the best in my class.

'Y/n what's your secret?'

'I don't know, uh drugs? Heartbreak? Both?'

5 days until the full moon Remus

The increasing uncomfortable pressure on my joints was almost enough to distract me from her. Almost.

I just want to run up to her and tell her everything, drag Sirius, and make him confess too. Maybe we'll all be happy together.

The imagine of the three of us happy together and in love. Clouded my head. I thought about it so much it was almost tangible.

Her daily routine trips to Madam Pompfrey had me assuming the worse. I had my fare share of bandaging up Sirius' forearms and upper thighs.

I tried to think, her period maybe? No, she's had hers for years, she would just excuse herself to the toilet.

My mind just defaulted into the worse case possible.

Suicide?

My heart thumped in an uneven painful rhythm. Swallowing a lump in my throat I hadn't even known formed I continued to attempt to let my teacher teach me the material of today's lesson.

Please be ok y/n, please, I love you to much to lose you, even though I've already have

4 days until the full moon

Tell him, tell him, he'll help you. The pain is too much, please it hurts.

I took a deep breath calming the clamoring thoughts in my head. A very dangerous place to be at this time of the month.

James was sitting next to me on my bed, the way he usually does, reading something. I noticed the title of his cover.

Lycanthropy: Everything you need to know and why their still human

"Didn't know we were learning about Lycan's in D.A.D.A." I murmured, focusing back on my own book.

"We're not, personal purpose." James answered back.

"What's your opinion on them?" I asked getting more nervous for James' answer.

Tell him, tell him, he'll help you. James loves you, he'll help you.

"There people, humans, witch or wizard, just with a condition. Doesn't make them dangerous, just misunderstood." James answered, "why do you ask?"

My eyes went wide, my pulse sky rocketing, the sudden awareness of the blood rushing through my veins.

"N-no reason." I desperately hid behind the small potions handbook from the library.

"Y/n/n?"

"Hmm? Very interesting potion here yes-"

"Wolves bane potion? How ironic, oh and your little wolves bane garden?"

My face paled, all of the blood rushing from my head into my toes.

Oh why can't I just sink to the bed and disappear?

"Very lovely flowers yes?"

"Do you, have, anything you want to tell me?" James asked causally not looking away from his book.

Oh what the hell.

"Fine! Fine!" I got up from the bed, tossing my book in the process, "I'm a werewolf!"

James froze in his spot. Before slowly lower his book so his eyes could peek above.

"What?"

"I contracted Lycanthropy ok?"

"Y/n sit down, and tell me everything, ok?" A sweet tone, of compassion and understanding, allowed me to sit and tell him everything.

3 days until the full moon

Remus

Nearing the summed of the month, a deep pit of anxiety took place, along with the increasing pain across my body. Sleep easily overcome me at any point possible, but restlessness at any other time.

Dozens of old scars, reminded me of the painful transformation. I pondered the lonely pain, that radiated through my diaphragm. Even being with one of the loves of my life, the immense feeling of being alone, was over clouding my mind.

Though James had been acting different, skittish, more than usual. He was usually found escorting Y/n.  

Again in D.A.D.A, We were granted a study hall period, in the Great hall. Books open, parchments being scratched on, quills moving from their ink pots, and light chatter amongst the tables. The table segment of which I sat was mostly empty, Sirius lightly leaning on my left side. A soft voice came by and stopped right in front of me.

Glancing up for a moment, my eyes glued to the figure in front of me. Y/n. oh shit oh shit, keep it cool Remus, don't scare her away now. Though a few seconds later James adorned her side, as usual.

2 days until the full moon Y/n

The secret was out, at least a little, an invisible weight was lifted off of my chest. Granting less anxiety about the first shift of the school year.

Actively avoiding the conversation, about where I go, or how it happened, I seemed to feel free. I guess I hadn't seemed to notice the weight of the secret I had been keeping.

It had become second nature, to harbor such a deadly illness, no harm shall come to them. I promised myself. Even if it meant lying to them.

It's better to not have them know, than having them risk their lives for something I can handle.

1 day until the full moon Remus

Y/n seemed to be getting healthier with the promotion and consolation of James. Every one needs someone to lean on.

I just wish I had been me. Maybe if I had told her, told her about my illness that seemed to consume me at times. Hell, my best friends and boyfriend knew about me long before we even started dating.

Yet 2 years had gone by and I couldn't bring myself to tell her, I was afraid of losing her. But I still did.

The day of the full moon 3rd person

"Y/n, please come with me, trust me please!" James begged to the girl, that refused any type of help. "You've already taken the wolves bane potion, and you can't hurt me. You know why? Because Lycans don't attack Animagus'"

"You're an Animagus?" Y/n whispered, just above her breath.

"Yes. Now please." James held his hand out to her, in a silent last offer of help. Y/n laced her fingers with James' and he sped off with her close in tow.

James pulled a seemingly blank piece of paper from His hoodie pocket, and let go of her hand.

"James, what are you doing?" Y/n asked in a hush tone.

A wild grin played out on James' face, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." The Incantation, followed through the tip of James' wand and caused ink to spread around the parchment. Names moved across through what looked like halls.

"What is that?"

"Marauders map, shows what every one is doing, every minute of everyday, see, there Dumbledore, in his office. I was just making sure the rest of the marauders were on their way and was no one coming."

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs?"

"Yea you'll see, come on now." James snatched Y/n's wrist and ran, taking her out of the castle and towards the shrieking shack.

"James the willow! Be careful!"

He continued to tug the girl behind him.

"James!"

"Hurry, there almost there." Reaching the edge of the field where the whomping willow resided, James stuffed the map back into his pocket.

"James? What the hell, where were you?" The rest of the marauders came out from behind a group of trees, "and what the fuck is she doing here?" Sirius snapped

"Can I tell them, Y/n?" James asked.

"I will," y/n replied in a hushed tone.

"Tell us what! You're dating?" Sirius scoffed.

"No, I-I'm a werewolf, a Lycan, a lycanthrope, whatever you want to call it! James said you could help me, last time I went to my usual spot, I fractured both of my legs and laid in the middle of the forbidden forest for 3 days"

Sirius paled out, and looked back to Remus.

"If you want me to go, tell me now, I've taken the Wolves bane potion, it's only a couple hours hike into the forbidden forest."

Remus felt his heart drop, then a deep ache. How long? I guess she also had no right to tell me, just as I never told her.

"No, Y/n stay, let's go inside." Remus said, sincerity laced into his voice. Her face softened.

"Where?" She asked.

Remus pointed to the willow. Her face paled.

James headed over to Peter to discuss who would stay outside in case anything went south. Sirius looked to Remus.

Remus took a few hesitant steps toward her. Before reaching his hand out offering her safe passage. Instead she swooped in gently under his arm.

Remus' heart swelled, maybe she does still love me after all.

1888 words

Ahhhahahahhah

It's finally coming together baiwbsiaiensl

-Kal

[fragmentedink-archived]

Hell to Pay: Part Forty-Four

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII

cowritten by @lux-scriptum​

A/N: trigger warnings for mentions of suggested abortion

Amara flopped down on her couch. Cin was still with Renee, which- well, it sucked. She missed her mate. And she needed help getting rid of all their shitty furniture so she could let him buy some better furniture for the better apartment she was planning on moving to. As soon as she found one anyway.

She was still laying there, staring at the ceiling, when she heard Nik come in the door. “What happened to your door?” He asked.

“Ash. Shut it behind you.”

“No.”

When she levered herself upright, he was setting the piece of plywood she was using as a door against the wall. “You’ll let in a breeze, dickhead,” she said, flopping back with a groan.

“Good,” Nik said. “Maybe it’ll get rid of the charred wood smell.”

“Not my problem much longer. I’m moving.” Amara threw an arm over her eyes. “Hopefully.”

When Nik didn’t speak, or move closer, Amara groaned loudly. After sitting up, she crossed her legs, peering at how Nik’s arms were folded across his chest.

“Come, sit on the shitty couch I plan on replacing.”

“Why are you leaving?”

Amara squinted. “I’ll tell you if you sit down,” she wheedled.

“When were you going to tell me Destris was dead?”

Guilt pricked at Amara, but she lifted her chin stubbornly. “Sit, and then we talk.”

“No. You lied to me.”

“When?” Amara asked, spine straightening.

“I thought you were done not telling me the truth.”

“Not like I’ve been around much to tell you anything.” When she looked at Nik, he looked close to tears. “Seriously. Sit. I’ll tell you everything.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why tell me now?”

“Because you’re here, dumbass. And no one’s here to interrupt me this time.” She patted the couch insistently.

“Name calling is not going to work in your favor,” he said, pursing his lips.

“Name calling is my way of showing love and you know it.” Amara leaned back. “I was afraid to fail again. I wasn’t going to put you through that. Besides, I was on a tight schedule. I killed him quick. I had to. I needed his soul. And I felt like shit for bailing on you, but- I needed Lev back. You needed him.” She screwed her face up. “And then Cameron kicked me out of the house.”

Nik gave a grim little smile. “Everyone needs Lev,” he said. He sat down on the couch, facing away from her.

“Yeah well, you were kind of out of commission without him. I need my best friend functional. Or as close to it as you usually are.”

“Doesn’t excuse the fact you lied to me. Again.”

“Right. Next time I’ll drop everything I’m doing on a time sensitive mission and tell you what i'm doing.” She crossed her arms. “I wasn’t trying to leave you out of the loop. That’s not a lie. Shit just happened fast, and then Cameron pushed me out of the house, and I haven’t seen much of you since.”

Nik got up with a muttered, “Whatever.”

“Hey, no,” Amara said, jumping to her feet and grabbing his wrist. “Wait. Please. You’re here. Please. Let’s talk, now that you’re here.”

Nik pursed his lips, clearly thinking about it, before he flopped back down. “Speak.”

“Cyrus said the spell we tried didn’t bother to offer anything in exchange.” Amara tipped her head back. “He’s the one who thought of killing Destris. He killed Lev, he should die. So I killed him. Cameron wouldn’t come, which. I expected. He’s got baggage I don’t think anyone wants to unpack. I wish I could have dragged it out, but I was afraid of Destris getting away if I toyed with him. So I gutted him when he opened his front door. Cameron wouldn’t let me stay while they did the magic. So I came over and cried on you, but you know that. And then we spent days waiting for Lev to wake up, and that’s all I could think about at the time.”

She paused, touched his shoulder. “I’ve been ignoring you,” She finally said. “Worse than usual. And that’s not fair.”

“You didn’t kill him fast enough.” Nik’s voice broke. He curled into the couch, looking away.

“Noted for next time.” Amara hesitated. She leaned against him, closing his eyes. “Hey. I won’t apologize. You hate those. But. I’ll try to be a better friend.”

Nik stared into the couch blankly. Silent tears slipped down his cheeks. “I’m pregnant,” he finally said, voice cracking. “He’s the father.”

Oh. Amara had no idea what to say. “You keeping it?” She finally asked.

“I don’t know.”

Amara considered him. “You don’t have to, you know. If you don’t want to.”

“You mean not carry a sadist’s spawn in my weird omega uterus? Yeah, I’m aware.”

“Plenty of angels are weird about abortions. Won’t even say the stupid word. It really is an option.”

“If i want to get an abortion, I will. I just don’t know what I want.”

Amara considered that. “Okay,” she finally said. “Whatever you decide, it’s the right decision.”

Nik gave her a really tired look. “Okay,” he said dryly. “Thank you, Ash.”

“Ouch,” Amara said, smacking his shoulder. “Take that back right now.”

Nik curled into the couch and rested his head on the back cushion. “What, exactly,” he said, “is Cameron going to say when he finds out I slept with his brother of all people? Cameron puts up with a lot of my shit, but he’s not going to put up with this. Not Destris.”

Amara considered him. “Cameron isn’t going to do anything,” she said. “It’s Destris.”

“Destris did not come onto me,” he said. “I came onto him. I went to him for the drugs and I was more than willing to let him fuck me- and knot me. Even if it’s Destris, I am not Destris, and… this kid sure as hell isn’t either.”

“You went to Destris?” Amara frowned. “You knew it was Destris, and you went to him anyway?”

“No I did not know it was Destris,” Nik said, irritably. “But that doesn’t mean shit.”

“Kinda think it means everything,” Amara said. “If you don’t know who you’re fucking, how the hell do you consent.”

Nik’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Easily. With my mouth. And ass apparently.”

Amara rolled her eyes. “No.” She said. She poked his cheek. “Not how consent works, dumbass.” She leaned against him, and sighed. “But I’m not going to change your mind. I know that. Just... know Cameron will understand.”

“Sure he will,” Nik said. “Because Cameron is capable of forgiveness or empathy or literally anything else on any form of emotional spectrum. Not to mention we already have one kid in the house that he wanted to kill the moment he laid eyes on. And that kid isn’t even a hybrid.”

Amara nodded. “Cameron is just a freak of nature who doesn’t feel shit normally. But I know it’ll work out. I just know.” She tapped her temple.

“Since when were you an optimist?” Nik demanded, voice cracking. “Ugh, stars. I am so sick of crying.” Nik wiped hastily at his tears, his glower faltering. “I’m a horrible person.” he closed his eyes. “Lev literally just got brought back from the dead and I’m pissed off everyone cares more about him than me.”

Amara shrugged. “You’re allowed to be selfish. And everyone will stop fawning over him soon enough. Or, as much. Everyone fusses over Lev. You do, I bet. If you need more attention, more love, more- whatever, ask for it. You know no one will mind. You deserve it too.”

“Do I?” Nik asked, silent tears slipping down his face. He palmed his eyes, sniffling. “I’ve been selfish my entire life,” he said “Now I’m just being an asshole. Not like I was just brutally murdered and then necromancied back into life.”

“You are,” Amara said. “Now go be selfish, or I’ll tattle to Lev and Cameron that you're not getting enough attention that you need.”

“I decided to go out and get high and completely blow off everyone, making Cameron turn into a skeleton, Lev try to make me stay dead and everyone try to handle me. I’ve been nothing but selfish and smothered and now I want erven more attention and it’s even worse because Lev doesn’t remember anything and now I’m pregnant and if i say a word to anyone about it, especially Lev, then he’s going to try to bend over backwards to parent me and Cameron’s going to hate me, even more than he already does, and Nate’s going to get even weirder about me being in Cameron’s house and-” Nik’s mouth snapped shut and he took a deep breath. “Point is, being selfish is what got me into this mess in the first place.”

Amara sighed. “I don’t know how to logic you out, Nik. You'll have to find someone else to do that, but I’ll always be here for you. Cheesy as that sounds. If you can't be selfish around anyone else, then, be selfish around me.”

Nik blinked rapidly, scrubbing his face before moving over to lean against her. His entire body trembled with barely suppressed tears while she put her arm around him. He sniffled. “You’re annoying,” he finally said, petulantly.

“It's my job,” Amara replied. “You wanna stick around a bit longer?”

“Yeah,” Nik sighed against her.

---

With Nik gone for the day, Lev was stuck in bed, though at least Cameron was there. In the chair. Out of arms reach. Lev lasted an hour, ignoring the vague ache pulsing through him, before he cracked.

“Cam?” Lev asked.

“Hm?”

“It hurts,” Lev admitted. “I- can you hold me?” He was quick to add, “I can sit in your lap if you still want to read, but- not being touched… hurts.”

“Sure,” Cameron said eventually. He settled more comfortably, and then shifted so Lev’d have room.

Lev wobbled the few steps it was to Cameron’s lap, and curled in immediately. Cameron pulled a blanket around Lev, and started to play with Lev’s hair absently as he read. Slowly the ache faded, and Lev sighed softly into Cameron’s neck.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

“Mmmhmm,” Cameron replied.

“I guess we should let Ash know… I didn’t realize… I didn’t know it hurt like that. Nik hasn’t let me go since he arrived.”

After a few seconds, Cameron said, “Nik will be back soon.”

Lev nodded. He knew that. And he didn’t begrudge Nik his time away. “I like time with you too,�� Lev said. “I like it when you hold me. I feel safe.”

“All you have to do is ask.”

“I know. That’s the hard part.” Lev pressed a shy kiss to Cameron’s cheek. “I’ll work on it.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

Lev snorted softly, and snuggled back into Cameron. “You haven’t changed much.”

“I’ve been at work. I’ve been too busy.”

“That sounds about right.” Lev absently traced Cameron’s collarbone. It stuck out more than he remembered, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

Cameron went back to reading, but Lev didn’t mind. His alpha’s hand was still playing with his hair, and Lev was content to let him.

Lev had dozed off by the time Nik came home. Lev only stirred when he ehared Cameron tell Nik… something about dinner. That was enough Lev’s head shot up, peering blearily around.

“Nik?” Lev asked, finally focusing on his boyfriend.

Nik gave him a tired smile. “Hi.”

Lev scrambled clumsily out of Cam’s lap, and wrapped himself around Nik tightly. “How was it?” He mumbled.

Nik wrapped his arms around Lev’s waist. “Amara was being Amara, as usual.”

“A little annoying, and not really helpful, but you feel a little better anyway?”

“Yeah. Exactly that,” Nik said.

“She’s good at that.” Lev pulled away, long enough to flop on the bed wearily. “Nap with me?”

“Yeah,” Nik promised, joining him. “That sounds nice.”

---

Lev had sent the sentries back for proper pillows twice, though he wouldn’t give back the others. He tucked them around Nik, though he tossed a few chosen to the floor. Nik didn’t offer to help, and just watched Lev sleepily. Lev took several breaks, and napped frequently.

He occasionally took small laps around the room. As long as he didn’t stray too long, Nik just waited for him in bed. Lev poked around in the adjoining bathroom, puttered around in the walk in closet. He dragged several pillows in there with him, and one of the extra blankets, too. He left them there, out of the way, and crawled back in bed with Nik once again.

Nik tugged Lev close. “If you keep getting out of bed, you’re going to get in trouble,” Nik mumbled.

“You’re with me,” Lev said. “I’m supervised. And I don’t stay long.”

“I see you’re going to drag me under the bus with you.”

Lev burrowed close. “I didn’t mean to. I- I can stay in bed.” He touched Nik’s cheek lightly, and then, “I’ll try anyway. I’m supposed to try to walk a bit.”

Nik whined at him, and curled into Lev.

Lev stroked his hair. “I’ll stay,” he promised, more firmly this time. He pressed a hesitant kiss to Nik’s forehead. To Lev’s delight, Nik began to purr softly.

Lev settled deeper in the bed, and closed his eyes. Before he knew it, he was dead asleep, one hand fisted in Nik’s shirt.

Tagging: @incandescent-creativity @idreamonpaper @solangelo3088 @halstudies @alittleyellowdinosaur @caelisis

[heathsbitch]

Treat You Better ➳ PEAKY BLINDERS

vi. MICHAEL

          Her throat burned. Her legs burned. Her eyes burned. Groaning, Ivy sat up and opened her eyes. She cast them around the room she was in. It was the Shelby's living room. 'What am I doing here?'  Then she remembered; the opening of The Garrison, stealing the bottle of rum, almost having sex in an alley way, with Finn. Emotions raged through her head. Finn was one of her closest friends, probably her best friend. But surely he was just that? But best friends don't try and sleep with each other...

She curled into the woolen blankets that lied on top of her. Turning her head, Ivy noticed Finn sleeping next to her small body. His mouth was wide open and short snores were leaving it. He was still in his suit and coat from the previous night but his hat and shoes had been taken off. Ivy was also still in her clothes from the previous night but she had no shoes on either. "Right, time for you two to get up." Tommy said as he burst into the room. Finn jumped from his position on the couch, then immediately sunk realizing the throbbing headache he now had to nurse. "I have a job for you two."

What Tommo had failed to mention about the job he had for the two of them was the fact that it involved standing around for hours in a bright light. Well, it was bright to them anyway. They were waiting outside the sectioned off room in The Garrison. Finn and Ivy had to bring in initiates for the Peaky Blinders. Finn was leaning on a wall whilst Ivy had her head face down on a table and slumped over in her chair. "Fuck," He groaned for what felt like the 50th time in the past ten minutes. "What happened last night?" The girl sat up from the table to look him straight in the eye. "Do you not remember?"

"No," He laughed "Do you? 'Cause I was completely out of it. I didn't do anything stupid, did I?" Her heart dropped slightly. Was it out of relief or sadness that he had forgotten what had happened? She wondered if John remembered what he saw...

Finn took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. "Want one?" She shook her head and sat back in her chair. Her head was pounding like drums were having a rave inside of it. A large, bald man walked out of the cove. "Next," Finn called, taking a puff of his cigarette. A strange-looking man in a bowler hat looked around the room, anxiousness practically pouring out of his ears. "Next." Finn repeated, looking directly at the man, he shook his head at the poor guy as he entered the small room. "Play nice, Finley." Ivy told him, opening her eyes. She had closed them to try and get some relief from the light but it wasn't working out too well. Last night, she hadn't got a proper look around the recently restored pub. Gold covered the place, it looked extremely expensive. The bar was lined with various alcohols, each one a different colour and size. 'None of that shit for a couple days, or weeks.' She said to herself, the girl's hangover slapping her repeatedly.

Large and small tables alike lined the room. A red velvet curtain hung at the back of the room. It was probably a cornered off room for some higher-class customers. It wasn't in use now.

"How are you feeling?" Finn asked Ivy. "Like shit." They both laughed then groaned immediately after, the headaches getting increasingly worse when they chuckled. "Same." He agreed. He was staring at a sign at the side of the bar, it had a list of spirits and beer on it.

"Having trouble there?" Ivy joked but he didn't reply. "Wait, you can read, can't you?" He looked at her and sheepishly shook his head. "I can read some things, like separate words. And I can write my own name. But, that's it." He didn't look at the girl when he spoke. He was embarrassed at the fact he couldn't read or write properly. "I could teach you, if you want." She offered. She wasn't near enough qualified to teach him but she could try her best. "Really? You would do that?" He asked, excitement running through him. "Of course, Finn. That's what friends are for." The corners of his mouth turned up when she said the word 'friend'. "You know, I've never had proper friend before. Not before Isaiah anyway." She gave him a sympathetic smile, "Neither have I," He returned the smile. "People have always been scared of me as well, Finn. My dad has a bit of a bad reputation. It might even be worse than the Peaky Blinders." The girl kept her eyes trained on the floor when she spoke.

Finn came over to sit next to her at the table. He lent back in his own chair and took one of her hands in his. Ivy's eyes met his and he smiled.

The Shelbys were finished in half an hour. They came out to see the two teenagers leaning on the table, sleeping, still holding hands. Arthur walked up to the table and slammed his hands against it. They both shot up, startled from the noise. Their hands disconnected immediately and their eyes darted between each other and the Shelby boys. "Come on you two. We've got work to do." Tommy took them to the Shelby's house so they could work the books for the rest of the day.

"Run for the hills! It's Digbeth kid!" Arthur shouted as he burst through the doors. "Get out of town, kid, or I will shoot your fucking head off!" John shouted back, drawing his gun. "I've got a prisoner! Stay back!" Arthur wrapped his arm around Ivy's neck and shook her around playfully. She groaned in pain, her headache still raging through her. "Time's up. You're dead. Go down. John!" He pretended to shoot John but he just stared at something behind them.

Ivy pulled out of Arthur's grip so she could turn around. When she did, the girl saw Polly with a young boy around her age. "Michael?" Ivy whispered. The corner of his lips turned up when he saw her. She gave him a warm smile, she wanted him to feel welcome. Tommy walked in and gave him the same smile Ivy had. Well, it was more of a smirk. Arthur and John both put their guns away, they snickered in the process. "All right then, Polly," Arthur began "Who's this?" The boys snickered again. "Gentlemen. This is your cousin. Polly's son, Michael." Polly held onto Michael's arm, he looked slightly uncomfortable and wore an awkward smile, but Polly smiled proudly next to him. Michael walked away from Polly and towards Arthur, John and Ivy. He shook John's hand firmly and moved onto the girl. Instead of shaking her hand, he brought it up to his lips hesitantly and layed a kiss on the back of it. She could feel her face flush bright red. His cheeks also held a slight red tint as he pulled away. "It's nice to see you again."

"You too." She returned the smile that she had on earlier. "Pleased to meet you." Michael said to Arthur as he shook his hand. "I'm Arthur. You've met me. I used to throw you out of the window so John could catch ya'." The girl gave a worried look to Arthur but he kept looking forward at Michael. "I used to put you in a shoe box and kick you down Watery Lane." Her head snapped towards John, 'What the hell is wrong with them?' Tommo smiled at the Solomons's reaction. "I bet you're glad to be back." He said to Michael. He laughed at their words "I don't remember any of it. All I remember is the day they took me away."

'Well, that got morbid pretty fast.' Polly walked over to her son and placed her hands on his cheeks. He was a little bit taller than her but looked down into his real mother's eyes. She engulfed him in a hug and everybody exchanged looks around the room. Polly pulled away and Tommy stepped in to talk to him. When they walked in, Ivy hadn't taken note of Polly's appearance. She wore the same beautiful red dress from last night. Her hair was messy and her eyes had dark bags underneath them. She might've looked worse than Ivy did. What had happened to her? "Well you're here now, son," Tommo placed his hand on Michael's shoulder, "Welcome to the Shelby family." He shook his shoulder and flashed him a smile. "Later on we'll show you the ropes." Arthur told him. Ivy turned her head to look up at John, a smirk played upon his lips. "Yeah, we'll show you what's what." Polly looked between her nephews, worry plastered on her face. She probably didn't want him to get involved with Peaky business. She was trying to keep Ivy away from that side of her life as best as she could. Ivy could see why she wanted to keep him away, she just wanted to protect them.

"Let's leave him be for now, eh?" Tommo stepped in, even he wanted to keep Michael away from his brothers. "Come on boys, Ivy." She went to follow them out of the room but Polly kept her back. "Ivy, can you stay here, please?" The girl looked at Thomas for permission and he nodded his head. "I would like to speak to you later. Meet me at The Garrison." He told her and she nodded her head, notifying that it was okay. They left the room and Ivy made her way over to Michael and Polly. She sat down at the table so Michael and Ivy followed her actions. "I was just wondering, Michael, if you would like to stay with us for a few days," Polly asked her son "Would that be alright with both of you?" The young girl looked at Michael and he nodded. "That's fine with me." Ivy said to Polly. "I'll have to call ma' mother to see if that's alright."

"Okay," Polly agreed. "There's a phone in The Garrison that you can use. Ivy, you have to meet Tommy there, don't you?" She bobbed her head, agreeing to what Polly was saying. "Would you mind taking Michael down there?"

"No, that's fine." Polly stood up from the table and they followed in suit. "I'm going to get dressed now. It's good to see you again, Michael." Polly hugged him again before walking up off the stairs. Ivy walked over to the coat rack by the door where her coat hung. She grabbed it and put it on. "You ready for the dirty old streets of Birmingham?" He laughed at the girl's light joke, "Yeah."

On their way to The Garrison, Michael was asking her a few questions about her relations to the Shelby family. "So, are you related to Arthur, John and Thomas?" The pair walked down Watery Lane, the light wind brushing through their hair. "No," Ivy laughed "I'm from London. Our family's are..." She paused, stuck for what to say. She couldn't say that they were trying to murder each other or the truth about why she ran away. "Friends," Was the word that she decided on. "Well, they're in business together."

"So are you just visiting or..." He trailed off. "I was supposed to be just visiting but I'm moving in properly with Polly soon." The rest of the walk to The Garrison was filled with small talk, like how old they were and basic information like that. She had found out that Michael was only a few years older than her and the little boy they saw at his old house was his 'brother'.

"Tommo," Ivy called out to him as they rounded the corner of The Garrison. "Michael needs to use the telephone." He looked between the pair, "Alright, but make it quick. Ivy and I have business." Ivy furrowed her eyebrows. Business. Tommy took them through the pub and towards the small office at the back. "Polly said you own this place," Michael said to Tommy. "She said you own lots of different businesses." Ivy shook her head, her dad and Tom were always competing for businesses, that's why he was always complaining about him. "You call her Polly or mum?" Tommo quipped back. "I can't get used to calling her mum yet." Michael confessed. Tommy sighed as they reached the office and closed the door behind him. "Who are you calling?" He asked. "My mother. I mean..."

"I know what you mean," Ivy sat down at the chair by the desk whilst the boys stayed stood up. "What are you gonna tell 'er?" Michael looked at the girl then towards Tommo. "I'm going to tell her where I am."

"And now you're gonna tell 'er you're going home." Ivy's head spun around at Tommo's orders. 'Why did he want him to go back home?' Michael took a seat next to her and told Thomas what Polly had told him, "Polly said that I could stay here for a few days." He took his hat off of his head and held it in his hands. "Do you want to stay?" Ivy asked this time.

"I only just got here." Michael told the girl. "What age are you, Michael?" Tommy began to lightly grill the boy. "Seventeen." Michael looked at Ivy whilst he spoke. "Seventeen," Tommo repeated "Which means it's not up to you, right?"

"I'm eighteen in a few weeks. I make up my own mind." His confidence shocked Ivy, he seemed like an innocent and quiet boy at first. "You smoke?" Tommy asked his cousin. "No." Thomas pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, taking a few puffs from it. "Drink?" The girl turned to Michael, he looked back at her and shook his head. Maybe he was just as innocent as he first seemed?

"You're going to call your mother. Tell her you're getting the next train home. When you get there, write a letter to Polly saying that when you're eighteen, you'll come back here and-" Michael interrupted him "I just told you, I make up my own mind." Ivy stayed quiet but her eyebrows were raised. Not even she had enough confidence to stand up to a man like Tommy.

Tommo's facial expression did not change one bit. "Do you know what we do? Michael?" He took another puff of his cigarette, he was calm the entire time. "We Shelbys and Solomons?" When he mentioned Ivy's name she gave him a worried look. Michael seemed like a confident man but she didn't want to scare him away. "You're a Solomons?" He turned to ask the girl, she only nodded her head. His facial expression didn't change. 'These two are gonna be the death of me.' Ivy thought to herself. "Yes, I think I know what you do." The two continued to stare at each other. The girl began to feel increasingly more uncomfortable in the scenario she was in. "You've got smart eyes," Tommy paused "But you're young, so you think what we do is alright. It's not alright," The girl agreed with Tommy. She didn't want to be murdering people because of 'business'. Blood still stained her hands; no matter how much water she used to try and cleanse them.

"People get hurt," He looked straight at Ivy when he said those words, she kept her eyes focused on the floor, guilt filled her still. "Now, call your mother. And we'll drive you to the station."

"No," Michael and Thomas's exchange picked up more and more tension the longer it lasted. Ivy shifted in her seat. A long pause lasted between them before Michael spoke up again. "In my village," He begun, "There's this little wishing well. It's made of white bricks, right in the middle of the village green. Everybody says how pretty it is. But I swear to God, if I spend another day in that village, I'm going to blow it up with dynamite. Probably blow my hands off with it, but it will be worth it. Just to see all those pretty white bricks spread over the pretty village green." Michael began to scare Ivy. But it was good fear. In a way, he intrigued her. He had a darkness deep inside of him that looked like he couldn't control. Ivy knew that the same darkness lurked inside her, somewhere, buried deep within the small girl. They were both dangerous.

She dragged herself out of her dark thoughts, she shouldn't be thinking like that. Ivy averted her eyes back to the men. She didn't know if it was her hallucinating, but it looked like Tommy was smirking. Strange. He snubbed out his cigarette, "Yep, you're Polly's son all right. Just as you're Alfie's daughter." Michael and Ivy turned towards each other but turned back to Tommo almost immediately. He lifted his hand up in his defense as if he was saying that he'll explain later.

"Are you going to call Mrs Jo- your mother?" The girl stopped half way through her sentence to re-evaluate her words. "Yeah, but I think I'll stay," He walked over to the phone and called her. Within a few minutes, he was done and ready to leave the room. "Are you coming, Ivy?" She stood up and walked over to Tommy. "Tommo said he needed to talk to me. Can you wait outside for a few minutes please?" He nodded and left the small office. Ivy raised her eyebrow at Tommo, waiting for him to speak. "I'm going to see your father, again, Ivy." She took in a deep breath. She still needed more time to prepare what she was going to say to him. "Next time. I promise." Tommy nodded accepting her proposition. "Alright. You'd better go and see if Michael's alright."

"Bye, Tommo." Ivy left the room to try and find Michael.

vii. THE HORSE AUCTION 

MASTERLIST

[an-upset-librarian]

A Storm of Ice & Wind -- Part VI

As Nesta and Cassian travel North, they talk about the path that brought them together. 

At long last, I humbly bring before you all an update to this little Nessian story of mine. Nothing like a quarantine to get things started, huh? I hope you enjoy this little chapter! 

As always, if you want to be added/removed from the update tag list, let me know! I just copy/paste and I know it has been a while since I updated so...

AO3

I    II    III    IV    V

PART VI

             Thankfully, Nesta held back her surprised scream when Cassian quickly thrust up into the sky with his powerful wings. The drum beat of his wings drowned out the panicked pounding of her heart, but as soon as they cleared the canopy and reached open air, Nesta’s fear was replaced with childlike wonder.

            She’d never paid any attention when she flew before. Never really wanted to open her eyes and look at the world from the new perspective. How stupid she’d been.

            Her breath misted in the chilled air, the early rays of the sun catching it and casting a golden light upon her every exhale. She blinked against the glaring sun as it slowly peeked out from behind the wall of mountains spanning in nearly every direction. She looked down and the forest was only a dark blur beneath them. Washes of greens and browns and snow mixed together until she couldn’t distinguish one tree from another.

            The sky was a brilliant canvas around them. The dawn blushed into life around them, highlighting the clouds and emphasizing the creeping darkness of night as it faded away. Oranges and pinks streaked the sky and clouds. Nesta was in complete and utter awe. They were high enough that she felt as though she could reach out and touch the fluffy clouds around them. A gentle breeze washed through her plaited hair and pinched at her cheeks. She felt as though she was living inside one of Feyre’s paintings.

            The thought of her sister dampened her mood, but not as much as she would have expected. Flying above the canopy, enveloped in the painted sunrise filled her with tranquility, something she had not felt in quite a while.

            A smile lit her face and she nearly forgot who was carrying her when she tightened her grip around Cassian’s neck. The overwhelming sense of smugness exuding from her companion’s pores quickly reminded her of who she was with. He was watching her with mirth in his dark gaze, an all too self-satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

            The itching of her power under her skin faded to the back of her mind as she took in the great landscape beneath her and the skies around her. Nesta saw why Cassian loved to fly, why all Illyrians loved to fly. And what a punishment it was to clip female’s wings to keep them from experiencing such freedom.

            They were silent for the first half hour or so. Cassian focused on his flying and the trials they would face ahead, and Nesta relishing in the calmness flying brought her and the clarity she could almost reach. Before she knew it, she was relaxing in Cassian’s arms, the stress she’d felt about her magic and her overwhelming emotions fading with each wingbeat.

            While the air was frigid, it was a blessing against her hot, irritated skin. The brisk bite of the cold wind on her cheeks and her hands distracted her from the waves of power boiling inside of her. She knew she had to talk to Cassian about it, see if he could help, but her damned pride was still intact even after months of living as a shell of the person she used to be. Though, the person she used to be was stubborn and prideful as well.

            Maybe that person was still inside her, a foundation for the pieces she was trying to put together again.

            She lost track of time, lost in the beauty that surrounded her and the comfort of the arms around her and the body against her. It wasn’t until Cassian spoke, jolting her from her peaceful reverie, that she remembered their goals and what brought them to flying further North.

            “I needed this,” he said, his eyes filled with rare softness. Nesta nodded. She could see the stress leave his shoulders, like a weight was lifted, and the ease in his movements. His arms tightened around her as he breathed in the cold air. “After Hybern, when that bastard shredded my wings-” Nesta tensed in his arms, memories rising to the surface.

            “A part of me thought I’d never be able to do this again, to fly above Illyria with the winter winds against my wings and the sun on my skin.” His brow furrowed. Nesta wondered if it was the bubble that surrounded them, high above the ground with nothing but the clouds for company, that brought up such vulnerability. She felt it too, a tender and fragile part of her heart seemed to light up at his words.

            “I remember,” she started, “seeing you bandaged. I could see it, the determination to be fully healed but behind that I saw your fear too. And I felt it within me. I was in a body I couldn’t recognize with abilities I never thought possible, Elain was-well, she was Elain. Feyre was gone and so was my home.” That piece of her heart swelled with emotion and she felt the tether tying her to the male that held her grow taut. His thumb stroked her shoulder and he stared into her eyes with no hesitation or fear, only understanding. “I remember seeing you relearning how to fly. I wanted you to win that fight.” She met his gaze head on.

            “I wanted revenge, justice, whichever. I wanted one of us to come out of that cursed castle stronger and unchanged.” She clenched her jaw and exhaled a hard breath of air. “But that revenge came at a price. One I don’t know if I can pay.” The memories of the Cauldron and the King that wielded it came rushing back.

            The feeling of that cold water against her skin, the image of Cassian, broken and unconscious, crawling towards her as she fought and screamed. And what came after-when she was inside that ancient thing. The darkness that surrounded her and what she saw inside of it, what she stole. That darkness lived in her now.

            “Some burdens stay with us, like scars that don’t heal right, or broken bones that don’t set. There are wounds of the mind that can’t be healed, only patched over. I know, I have a couple. Knowing that I wasn’t strong enough, despite what these damned Siphons grant me, that I wasn’t enough to save your or your sister, it is the greatest wound I shall ever bear. Deeper than all the shit I did during the war so many centuries ago, or even the war we just survived.” Cassian’s voice was thick with emotion. His arms tightened to the point of pain, but she didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything. She could only listen, as he did for her.

            “I saw what happened to you, what you went through and I stayed away because I thought it would be best, Nesta.” Her name was honey on his lips, and she leaned in like a honeybee drawn to a flower’s nectar. His face was mere inches from hers and she could feel the heat of his breath fan across her face. She could see the golden flecks in his eyes shining in the sunlight.

            “I wish things could have been different for you, but they weren’t. You were dealt a shit hand and you’re trying your best; I can see that now. I know it isn’t easy. I know.” For once, Nesta actually believed he did know, that he did understand. That he could understand, somehow, the pain she felt. Their scars were different, but if she could recognize those marks on his soul then he could see hers. Another piece of herself fell into place as she stared into his eyes, as she felt his pain and saw his empathy. She took a shaky breath and cupped her hands around his face. They were hovering, almost, in the sky together. Locked in their bubble together.

            “I see you too, Cassian.” She pressed her forehead against his and felt him shudder. A sense of ease and comfort overcame her. It was so easy to be close to him, to be vulnerable with him. In the bubble, she didn’t care about her pride or her wounds that refused to heal. Cassian murmured her name, as if saying a prayer and for once she wanted to answer that call of devotion, without thinking about what it could mean.

            “I-” she stuttered, too afraid to finish.

            “I know,” he answered.

            She thought about the first time they met, when she was still human, and the war seemed like something impossible happening in an impossible place. How she judged those that accompanied her sister. So much has changed, but now it felt right. The thread that connected her to Cassian was singing. It wrapped around her chest and brought warmth and something she never thought she could feel. Its melody was familiar and welcoming, and she was being drawn into its dance. Nesta felt Cassian’s breath against her lips. She thumbed the slight stubble on his jaw and took a deep breath.

            She felt his lips brush against hers and was instantly reminded of the last time she felt his lips on hers, when they faced certain death together as that King walked towards them. Nesta jerked back.

            She heard it again, the snap of her father’s bones. She saw it, his crumpled form. Saw Cassian’s broken wings and body against the earth, looking at her with such grief and loss. All at once, those feelings that dwelled inside her that had been calm since they took off into the skies returned. Her heartbeat sped up and the power inside of her stretched and bared its teeth.

            Nesta pushed against Cassian as the panic set into her bones, nestling besides her pieced together heart. She could hear his voice, a few curses and some attempt at calming words but she couldn’t hear his words. Couldn’t focus. All she could hear was that Cauldron damned snap. All she could feel was the memory of his lips against hers, the salty taste of his tears and the desperation they both shared.

            She couldn’t be here, in his arms and thinking of kissing him. Not when her father was dead, her life forever changed and destroyed, her family lost to her. She couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. There was only the panicked sense of danger that filled every fiber of her being.

            That ancient power inside her relished in her roiling emotions. It took advantage of the brief loss of control she had and lashed out. Her skin was crawling and cold. Nesta’s muscles trembled and despite knowing she was hundreds of feet in the air, the power inside of her wrought havoc. It filled her blood and danced across her skin. She wanted to cling to Cassian, to pull him close and have him tell her everything would be okay, but that power was all consuming. Before she even knew what was happening, her body was finally free of his warm but confining arms.

            And Nesta fell.

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

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[az3422]

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PeppersGhost's Proposal, I guess.

K/O Failure Scenario Hub » SPC-001 » PeppersGhost's Proposal, I guess.

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[13:04] Topic is "Fuck credentials, fuck passwords, fuck secrecy, fuck everything. Just, fuck in general. Fuck like it's the end of the world, because it is. Fuck me, please oh lord im so alone | Welcome! If you're still alive to read this, good luck finding someone to talk to."

[13:04] DrTsega: Hello? Anyone here?

[19:32] DrTsega: I'll take that as a no, then.

[22:48] DrTsega: I can't be the only one left.

[22:49] DrTsega: Hey Queg, are you still running?

[22:49] Queg: Hello, DrTsega. What can I do for you?

[22:49] DrTsega: thank god

[22:50] DrTsega: !backscroll 10

[22:50] Queg: [04:33] SgtYitay: I've looked through the entire building

[22:50] Queg: [04:33] SgtYitay: Everyone is dead

[22:50] Queg: [04:33] AgentCaleb: No shit

[22:50] Queg: [04:33] AgentCaleb: I know nobody uses this thing anyway but DAMN it's been EMPTY

[22:50] Queg: [04:34] AgentCaleb: You think it's just the two of us?

[22:50] Queg: [04:37] AgentCaleb: You still there

[22:50] Queg: [04:39] AgentCaleb: Saaarrrrge

[22:50] Queg: [04:50] SgtYitay has been disconnected (Ping timeout)

[22:50] Queg: [18:22] AgentCaleb: oooookay well i think im gonna call it quits then. If anyone sees this tell my husband I love him

[22:50] Queg: [18:22] AgentCaleb: lol jk i'll see that dogfaced whore in hell 👍🕶👍

[22:51] DrTsega: hmm

[22:52] DrTsega: !seen Agent Caleb

[22:52] Queg: AgentCaleb was last seen 8 days ago saying: lol jk i'll see that dogfaced whore in hell 👍🕶👍

[22:52] DrTsega: shit

[22:53] DrTsega: shitballs

[22:53] DrTsega: shitmonkeys

[22:55] DrTsega: shit the nail on the head

[22:55] DrTsega: okay

[11:16] DrTsega: Good morning. If anyone sees this just ping me, I'll stay around as long as I can.

[09:48] DrTsega: I'm still here

[14:26] DrTsega: !quote CaptSumner

[14:26] Queg: CaptSumner: I may be shitting out of my pee parts but FUCK YOU I will WALK IT OFF

[14:26] DrTsega: haha what

[14:27] DrTsega: Good times, good times.

[14:28] DrTsega: I wish Sumner wasn't lying dead in the bathroom

[14:29] DrTsega: or anywhere, for that matter

[14:33] DrTsega: but especially the bathroom

[08:01] DrTsega: I'm still here

[12:55] DrTsega: Man, if anyone sees this later I'm going to look really pitiful

[05:51] DrTsega: okay I can't sleep so I guess I might as well do this

[05:52] DrTsega: !settopic Check the backscroll. Look for "Start here"

[05:52] Topic is "Check the backscroll. Look for "Start here""

[05:52] DrTsega: Start here

[05:53] DrTsega: If you're still alive to read this, congratulations. You survived.

[05:54] DrTsega: You also have access to working internet and enough knowledge about shadow governments to visit a (previously) private communications channel, so, hey, good on you.

[05:55] DrTsega: As a reward for being such a cool and alive person, I'm going to tell you the story of how we ended the world.

[05:55] DrTsega: For context, though, you'll probably want to start by reading a certain document…

[05:56] DrTsega: Actually, you can probably just skim it. A lot of this won't make sense to you anyway, so who cares?

[05:57] DrTsega: Anyway. I'll go find the link. If memory serves, they declassified everything when they realized we were all gonna die.

[06:13] DrTsega: How are these servers even still up? Isn't that just the craziest thing

[08:22] DrTsega: Found it.

NOTICE FROM THE CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE COORDINATION

AND PROJECTS OPERATION COMMAND OFFICE

There is nothing new to report regarding SPC-001 at this time.

Test subject displaying the results of his exposure to SPC-001.

Project #: SPC-001

Selachian Pugnātorial Capabilities: Individuals enhanced with SPC-001 display a dramatic improvement in pugilistic prowess and have consistently proven capable of easily dispatching 90% of squaloid entities in simulations, even with no prior training. Furthermore, SPC-001 subjects have reported a radical elevation in coastal requiescence position retention, even when under assault from extragranular sedimentary weaponry.

Project Components: SPC-001 is a manmade chemical substance which augments the biological strength and dexterity of human beings. After initial exposure to SPC-001, subjects will undergo a steady increase in muscle mass over the following 72 hours, accompanied by heightened energy levels and adroit perception of their surroundings. Increased lung capacity and resistance to deep-sea hydrostatic pressure are common side effects.

Following the DREAD PORPOISE COMMUNION and the subsequent activation of the ALL HANDS ON DECK PROTOCOL, SPC agents embedded in the food industry began introducing discreet amounts of SPC-001 into numerous products intended for public consumption. Centre researchers have projected a full global saturation of SPC-001 to be achieved by the year ████. In the event that the DREAD PORPOISE COMMUNION ends before global saturation can be achieved, more aggressive means of SPC-001 dispersal may be undertaken to prevent a complete End-of-World K/O Failure Scenario.

Nascency Impetus: On May 16, ████, all observed selachian entities across the globe simultaneously demanifested, including those in SPC captivity. No selachian entities or evidence of the continued presence of selachian entities have been observed since. A Maximum State of Emergency was declared soon after by the Executive Pugilist Assembly and the phenomenon was codified as the DREAD PORPOISE COMMUNION. It is the belief of the Assembly that the selachians are congregating in preparation for the FINAL CONFLICT, an event foretold by Elder Pugilord Azmanititas in the Centre's original constitutional documents in 1451.

[08:23] DrTsega: Did you get all that?

[08:23] DrTsega: No? Okay, I'll break it down for you.

[08:26] DrTsega: I was part of a group known as the Selachian Punching Centre. An organization dedicated to fighting the menace that plagued our oceans. "We punch underwater so you can live on the land." That's what we used to say.

[08:27] DrTsega: I know what you're thinking.

[08:29] DrTsega: Yes. It was us keeping you safe the entire time. The Centre safeguarded mankind for centuries. Civilization as we knew it wouldn't have been possible if we weren't around. Our influence was unparalleled, extending to every level of every government, changing the course of world events, yet remaining a complete secret from everybody, which was really quite tricky.

Then, one day, the selachian menace disappeared. Our immediate reaction was one of disbelief, followed by euphoria, followed by raucous celebration. We danced. We drank ourselves stupid. We sang the songs of our forefathers. The orgies weren't officially sanctioned, of course, but boy howdy-doo were they tremendous.

Sadly, our revelry wasn't meant to last.

"DREAD PORPOISE COMMUNION", the Assembly called it. The prophesied gathering of every selachian, big or small. Every sharp, slimy, putrid horror that haunted our dreams, coming together in one place to bring about the end of all other life on our beautiful, green planet.

"But fear not," said our trusted Assembly. They told us that the human race would fight back. They said that when the selachians returned with their armies and squaloid murder-drones, we would be ready.

And they were right. We were ready. Thanks to SPC-001, we managed to get the entire human race fighting fit. At first people were alarmed when everyone started getting super ripped for no apparent reason, but then they realized it was awesome and the panic died down. Within a few months, every man, woman, and child was a lean, mean, punching machine. Even babies had abs you could wash your clothes on. It seemed like everything was going fine.

And that's how it went for the first couple of years: fine. Sure, boxing had to be outlawed once folks could punch with the same Newtonian force as your average car crash, and there were a few riots now and then over tank top shortages, but for the most part everything felt normal.

Year three, people started getting antsy. We had kept ourselves busy at the Centre by devising new weapons for selachian warfare, but every innovation felt hollow with a lack of anything to use them on. We grew listless. Surely the assault would begin any day, right?

Year four. There was an aura of dread hanging over the whole organization. I remember sitting in the Site-71 cafeteria, eating pickled cabbage and creamed corn salads with my comrades, when I finally heard someone ask aloud what we'd all wondered in the dark corners of our heads.

"What if they don't come back?"

It was Simmons who said that, of course. Of course. I kicked him in the face—a punch would have really hurt him—but the damage was done. It's a scary thought, losing your purpose in life. Faced with that kind of existential ennui, it's no wonder that everyone responded by flipping their shit. Hersberger screamed and started smearing her salad all over her face. Gertzler stabbed his fork tines into his cheek with no visible emotion. Bühler just broke down and cried until his tears turned to blood.

But Schwartzentruber was downright fuming. Started shouting all sorts of obscenities. Said he'd shove his fist down Simmons' throat and rip out his toenails from the inside. And Simmons was all defensive, "you all were thinking it" and that kind of stuff. The two kept going at it. We shouldn't have just sat there and watched, but no one thought fists would ever get involved. How could we have known?

I remember the entire cafeteria going silent. One moment, the two colleagues had been arguing. Next thing we knew, Schwartzentruber was wearing Simmons' face around his arm like a bracelet. Fist went straight through. Nobody knew what to say. Hersberger just picked the brain matter from her hair. There was no finishing our dinner after something like that.

We all tried to write it off as an isolated incident, an unhinged employee who forgot his own strength in a moment of pure emotion. That illusion was shattered when reports started coming in from the other sites. Similar incidents were happening all over the world, and within a few weeks it wasn't just limited to SPC personnel. These arms were made for punching, and that's just what they did.

As time went on, it became harder for us to fight the itch. Punching bags were laughable at that point, so instead we invented punching blocks out of a titanium-concrete composite. Even fashioned them into the shape of selachians to help take the pain away, but it still wasn’t enough. Whenever we came close to a cure, someone would end up atomizing the equipment with a flick of the wrist and we'd have to start over.

Eventually, one day I walked into the cafeteria and found the floor covered in what must have been two inches of blood. I thought maybe a pipe had burst until I saw Bühler sitting on a table in the corner. Guy was slathered in viscera from top to bottom, and he was wearing human heads around his arms like they were snap bracelets. I asked if he wanted to talk, but he didn't answer. He just stared at his fists and trembled. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was dead, hole in his beefy chest so big I coulda driven my Grampy's Volvo through it.

That was what broke me, I think. I had never seen someone self-pugilate before. I didn't know how many people were still alive in Site-71, but I knew that I would not perpetuate the carnage. I gathered some medical supplies from the surgical augmentations lab and tied a tourniquet around my burgeoning, well-defined bicep. Carefully, I injected myself with the nearest substance that resembled an anesthetic and bid my guns goodbye.

Screaming, writhing, I hacked off my arm using only a pair of rusty toenail clippers. Needless to say, I was dizzy from pain, blood loss, and the 5 CCs of green apple daiquiri I'd injected myself with, but somehow I managed to drag myself back to the cafeteria to cauterize my stump in the kitchen's oven. Barely clinging to consciousness, I set the oven to preheat, wrapped my stump in a tent of foil, and stuck it inside, turning regularly to promote an even cauter and applying a light baste to keep it moist.

When the bleeding stopped, I went back and repeated the process with my other arm. The second time was harder, I think. With no free hands remaining, I was forced to grip the toenail clippers with my teeth. I also ran out of baste. It was the most agonizing experience I could ever possibly fathom, but here I am. Alive. My cannonball deltoids still ripple with pugilistic vigor now and then, but the stubs are too short to be lethal.

And that's it. That's my story. That's how I ended up here, barricaded alone in an underground facility, typing on a keyboard with my tongue. I haven't been able to get in touch with any other Centre sites, and I can't leave the building. Every day I lose a little more hope. My personal hygiene has suffered, too—partly because I can't look at a pair of clippers without bursting into tears. My toenails are getting really long now. I'll probably have to use a pair of scissors or something. I could even use that electric carving knife I got for my birthday. Hell, I think there's a chainsaw in the supply closet. No shortage of options, really.

Even if I'm alive now, there's no telling how long that will last. Sometimes I hear people punching on the reinforced doors, desperate to break in and claim another victim to slake their drunken punchlust. Someday they may succeed. There's enough food left around to keep me going a while, though just for a while. I've kept my mind occupied and my spirits up by watching Dr. Cavender's Walking Dead box sets, but I can feel that post-Season-Six quality drop looming just around the corner.

Maybe this was their plan all along. Maybe they just left the planet, knowing full well we'd destroy ourselves. Maybe when the last human has passed their final breath, the selachians will return from wherever they went and feast on our tight, sculpted corpses. Or maybe they're happier where they are now. Maybe they're not coming back. I hope that's not the case. As much as it pains me to say it: I miss them.

I miss sharks.

[23:19] DrTsega: With all the squats I've been doing, I could probably pop their heads between my fucking thighs.

[23:20] DrTsega: pop 'em just like cherries. hell yeah

doomsday2018goi-formatshark-punching-center

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[maraudererasmut]

Black and White (Part XIII)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV | Part XVI | Part XVII | Part XVIII

Ring ring.

Remus opened one eye, glancing blearily at his phone on his nightstand.

1:06 a.m.

Letting out a groan, he rolled over to see who was calling. The number was blocked.

Ring ring.

"Fuck off," Remus grumbled at his phone, swatting at it. After the day he had, the last thing Remus needed was a random caller.

Ring ring.

Remus reached a hand out to attempt to silence his phone, accidentally knocking it off the nightstand in the process. 

Shit.

Ring ring.

Remus closed his eyes, listening to the old theme song he had programmed as his ringtone, immensely regretting that decision. It was starting to get annoying.

Ring ring.

____

Remus opened his eyes to the sun pouring through his open curtains. He groaned as he rolled over, blindly reaching for his phone on the nightstand.

A phone that wasn't there.

A phone that he had knocked off the nightstand last night.

With a frustrated moan, Remus reached down to the floor and pulled his phone from its cable. 

6:30

One missed call.

Vague images of his room at midnight lilted through his mind as Remus recalled the unanswered phone call. He clicked the voicemail button and brought his phone to his ear.

"Hello Re— Mr. Lupin. This is Sirius. Black. The— the gallery owner. From Black and White. I'm… I'm calling to uh… talk to you. Of course I'm calling to talk to you. That was stupid. Why else would somebody call someone? People call people to talk…"

Sirius' accent was slightly different, less posh and more casual, his words slurred and mumbled. Remus briefly wondered if perhaps this was a different Sirius Black who also happened to own an art gallery.

"Anyway… uh… I'd… I'd like to talk. If that's okay. To you, that is. I talk all the time. I just… I'm not just going to talk to myself. Though… that might be what I'm doing now. James? James I'm basically just talking to myself! Is this right? I should hang up… try again…"

Remus grinned to himself, picturing an inebriated Sirius calling out to James and asking if he was leaving a voicemail properly. 

"Anyway, I'm… I just… I should probably call again in the… the later. When the sun… is up. I'll talk to you later. What was I saying? I called you… why did I call you again?"

"Sirius, what are you doing?"

That was definitely James' voice in the distance.

"I'm calling Remus!"

"No! Sirius! Get off the phone!"

"But you said— "

"Get off the phone, Sirius!!"

"Okay, gotta go. Bye, Remus."

Remus pulled the phone away from his face, staring incredulously at his screen. If he hadn't heard it with his very own ears and held proof in his hands, he would never have believed that Sirius Black had left him a drunk voice message. 

Chuckling under his breath, Remus played the message a second time, listening to the sound of Sirius' voice as he stumbled through his muddled thoughts. Remus quite liked this version of Sirius.

The artist's thumbs whizzed over the keys as he typed out a message. He headed to one of his blank canvases in the corner of his flat and began painting. He had a few hours before work, and he planned to make the most of it; maybe he'd be able to channel some of these emotions into something productive. 

Eventually, Remus' phone chimed, pulling him out of the zone and away from his art.

Remus: Did you get him drunk last night?

James: oh god. what did he do??

Remus smirked at his phone, relishing in the humour of the situation. He was about to respond to James when his phone began to ring.

"Hello?"

"Did he actually call you last night?"

Remus couldn't help but chuckle at the sheer panic in James' voice.

"Yeah, but I was asleep. He did leave a voicemail, though. Do you want to hear it?"

"Shit… how bad is it?"

"Not that bad," Remus laughed, recalling Sirius' slurred speech and how relaxed he sounded for once. "He just said he wanted to talk and then… yammered a bit. He didn't really say anything of consequence."

"Right… okay… good. I'm sorry. I didn't know he'd call you. I should have stopped him…" James sounded worried. It was endearing.

"It's fine, James. Don't worry about it. It really wasn't that bad… though I suspect he's not going to be too happy when he remembers…"

"Yeah… here's hoping he doesn't."

Remus chuckled, brushing a loose curl from his eyes. 

"Oh, I am never letting him live this down. Posh, arrogant Sirius Black leaving a drunken voicemail for an artist? He deserves to be embarrassed for a bit."

Remus heard James sigh on the other end of the line. 

"Just… go easy on him, okay?"

"I'm only going to give him what he's owed…"

"Yeah… that's what I'm afraid of…" Remus and James laughed together for a moment before James continued. "Alright, I have to head out. Let me know how things go with Sirius, okay?"

"Yeah, for sure. And… uh… thanks again for uh… intervening yesterday. I'm… I'm sorry I brought you into this."

"No, no! Don't be sorry! Sirius needed someone to talk some sense into him. That's not your job, it's mine. I'm glad you called yesterday. Anyway… I'll see you around, Remus."

"Yeah, see ya. Bye, James."

"Bye!"

The line went dead and Remus returned to his painting, images of James and Sirius floating through this mind. 

What had he gotten himself into?

[damianosismyking]

PART VII

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI

A day or two later, Damen got weird.

It was a hard-to-describe type of situation that made Laurent freak a little. His mind was happy to provide him with lots of thoughts regarding just that.

For one, he probably did something wrong, though he couldn't pinpoint what it was.

They had that too vulnerable of a conversation about things that led Laurent to the ranch; they detoured that by talking more about family than specifics of Laurent's story. They got back on track and then detoured again - and it went on and off like this for about an hour or two. They overslept. Had lazy morning sex. Damen left late for work, which was less than smart now that he was given his first case. Laurent didn't complain. Laurent was late for work too, but the others could manage the horses just fine without him there.

Something during that time must've gone wrong, maybe.

Damen texted Laurent at night to tell him they couldn't hang out because there was a lot he had to study for his case before he met his new client. Laurent's only reply was 'ok'. It was a little too dry. Maybe that made Damen upset?

For other, Laurent was meaning to leave anyway so if Damen was distant, shouldn't that make things easier? Laurent shouldn’t be so distressed.

Waking up without Damen wasn't new, and still it made something twist in the pit of Laurent's stomach.

Not getting any replies for his texts did not help.

Damen seeming so distant on the other side of the line when Laurent called during lunch was upsetting. Damen hanging up abruptly was even worse.

It was an ego thing.

It probably was an ego thing.

Laurent always had a thing with ego.

Probably.

And it was a stupid thing to get worked up over. Laurent didn't have to make it serious.

On the first day, Laurent focused on his job, since that’s what he was meant to be doing, instead of thinking about his boss. Feeding the horses, changing their water, calling the Vet to come check on them. Three horses were almost late on the vaccines and one needed deworming. Paschal would come in a few days to check on them. Then Laurent and two others took them to walk around, freeing them on the pasture. Gather them back on the stalls.

After that Laurent himself was off for a long ride around the ranch and farther until he began to worry it would soon be too dark to come back safely.

On the second day something Laurent surely had not expected was to see Damen with some girl.

Some girl with long black hair braided over her shoulder. Some girl with a stunning face and huge eyes and freckles, and that strutted. She strutted. Some girl that laughed like she was singing. Some girl that Damen was laughing back to, the way he only ever laughed with a few close people. The way that he laughed when he was with Nikandros, and Kastor and Jokaste (before they cheated). The way that he laughed when he was with Laurent.

They disappeared in the main house and didn’t reemerge from there. Eventually it got too late and Laurent was too tired to wait up and see when she’d be leaving.

On the third day, Laurent came up with a speech and then mastered said speech that he would give to Damen and his family - as a whole, not separated parts - thanking them for so many years of kindness. He couldn't bear speaking to Damen privately. Not that Laurent was the crying type, but he might cry anyway. Emotions. Laurent hated them.

There were the speeches for the horses too - and those were individual. One to each. The biggest and most heart-felt to his own horse. It was the right thing to do.

Also on the third day, Damen opted for undermining all of Laurent's plans by showing up without previous notice to Laurent's room just before nine, looking serious and stiff like Laurent’s never seen him be. Damen tried for a smile, but it became obvious then and there that this conversation would be better if they didn’t try to pull niceties.

Straight to the point. Just business and such.

Laurent couldn't help but feeling small though. And helpless, and wrong, and guilty about something he didn't even know what. He has felt like this before - though the circumstances had been so different then.

Guilt was a constant in Laurent’s life when he arrived at the ranch. Guilty for escaping. Guilty for not letting Auguste know he was okay. Guilty for accepting all of those nice things that Egeria offered to do for him. Guilty.

The way Laurent felt guilty then was like how he was feeling guilty now. It was irrational and yet too goddamn real, despite him not having done anything to deserve that.

"We need to talk," was the first thing Damen said, his voice too deep to suggest anything other than that he wasn't in the mood for jokes.

Laurent gulped. "We do."

Damen frowned, as though not expecting that Laurent would say anything. Like Laurent was supposed to stay quiet and mop as Damen broke things up between them. "Go first then," Damen settled on the bed.

"Okay," Laurent walked to his desk and back, settling beside Damen, close enough that he could reach, but far enough that they would not bump.

Laurent offered the methodically folded piece of paper to Damen and waited for Damen to take his own conclusions of it. When it took longer than a minute, Laurent decided to verbalize, "I would like to offer you my resignation. I am immensely grateful for all that you and your family have done for me over the course of the years; I can't stress enough how -"

"What -" Damen interrupted "What is this? What the fuck, Laurent?" Damen held up the letter as though he had been personally offended by it.

Laurent drew a deep breath. "As I was saying - I am all too thankful for all the kindness you have shown me for so, so long. In my heart I will never forget all of this and I promise I will remain grateful to the day I die, but I feel like I overstayed my welcome. I know it might come as a shock, but right now I want to do more with my life. Something to give me an actual future. I hope you and your family won't take it as an offense, I will talk to Theomedes before I -"

"Are you shitting me?" Damen's expression grew more outraged the more Laurent spoke; he was already on his feet "That's it? You’re going to leave? You're breaking up with me with a fucking resignation letter and a formal speech?" Damen threw the letter to the ground "A goddamn speech?"

Laurent shifted, trying to appear unaffected. "I know the nature of our relationship was more intimate and I appreciate the special attention over the past few months. But, yes, I would like to leave."

Damen blinked, in chock. He had his hands on his hips which should be funny, except it wasn't. Damen lowered his tone, considering something before he said, "Is it because of the breakfast? Because if it is, Laurent, I promise I will never put you in that position again, I wasn't thinking. You don’t have to leave I’ll -"

"It's not because of the breakfast, Damianos" Laurent interrupted this time "I just want to be something more. To become someone. And I’m well aware of our situation" he gestured between them "and how things couldn't go forward."

“You can do everything you want. You don’t have to go away. Or you can go away, if you want to not be here anymore. I can help you, with college and finding a place to live wherever you want, just let me -”

“I have my own money that I saved, thank you. I don’t want your money. I don’t need it.”

“Laurent -”

“I would like,” Laurent’s tone was more incisive, firm “To de dismissed. Please.”

"Holy -" Damen turned his back, running his hands down his face.

There was silence and Laurent didn't want to think about it, or anything at all. He wanted this conversation to be over, so they could be over, and Laurent could be alone. By Damen's reaction he wasn't thrilled Laurent beat him to breaking up. Was Damen not used to being broken up to? Was this a first for him? No. Laurent knew for a fact this wasn't the case.

There had been Jokaste before him - and breaking up by cheating on him with his brother must've been a little worse than a letter of resignation. Though the letter shouldn't be too far behind. Laurent just didn't expect Damen to care so much. Maybe that was him not caring so much. Laurent would love it if his head would stop spinning and if Damen said something already.

"I, of course, fully intend to complete my notice and help you find a suitable person to fill my spot," Laurent said, in the quiet, when Damen still didn’t speak.

Damen huffed. "That's really nice of you, thank you," he said, voice carried in irony "I should’ve known. God, how am I this stupid?"

"Huh?"

Laurent wished Damen would turn around; watching his back was unsettling.

"Why am I always this stupid?" Damen said, not louder, "Nikandros told me this was going to happen and I - I didn't listen. Why did I not listen?"

"Are you talking to yourself?"

Damen just kept rubbing his hands over his face and mumbling. "You could have told me,” Damen’s voice was internalized, like he was half swallowing the words, but at last he was talking to Laurent “If you didn’t want... You could’ve told me before – you could’ve told me sooner.”

“Told you what, Damianos?” Laurent was still rock-solid on the outside.

“That you didn’t want things to get serious,” Damen took a sharp breath before finally turning and fixing his eyes on Laurent's “Didn’t want things to go forward. That you wanted us to remain casual.”

Laurent frowned. "We were casual," They were casual. Weren’t they casual?

Damen closed his eyes, pained. "I got that part, thanks," Damen leaned against the wall, resting his head on the wood panel.

More silence. "We were casual," Laurent whispered.

It did not make any sense. None of it.

"So," Laurent gulped, words outwards again "You didn't come here to end things between us?"

Damen smiled like it cost him greatly to do so. After, he shook his head. "No.”

Well, fuck.

Laurent was considerably less stable. "What were you here for then?"

Damen's jaw tensed. He looked to his boots, not Laurent. Laurent almost thought Damen wouldn't say anything until, "I met your brother."

The words floated before they could sink and once they did, Laurent found out he wouldn't be able to breath any time soon. "You what?"

"He is my client," Damen explained, "He has lawsuit against your uncle. There are evidences that your uncle interfered on the process of your custody, stole your family's money and properties. They've been fighting in court for years now and Auguste is out of resources to pay the fees and lawyers, so he signed up for the pro-bono."

Damen, much more in control of himself now, pushed away from the wall and bent to catch the letter he had thrown to the ground "I thought of breaking attorney and client privilege to let you know," his voice was cutting, bitter. Damen raised the letter again, like he's done earlier, but this time he refused to look at Laurent "I'll have the others know you're leaving. We will hire someone to replace you by the end of the week. Don’t worry about the notice, you’re free to go."

On his way out, Damen was gentle to close the door, leaving Laurent alone with his pounding heart and a full head.

__

NEXT>>

Read it on AO3!

[escritoria-whovian-xmas]

call me lover, a narcissa malfoy and liam gallagher playlist

In another life, I would be your girl We'd keep all our promises, be us against the world In another life, I would make you stay So I don't have to say you were the one that got away

i. call me lover, sam fender

I tell, when the lies are changing You're spreading it all too thin She give me those eyes when her man's in plain sight Or am I just mistaken? These things we're taking Make us run our mouths but we never say anything I love it when you call me, "Lover"

ii. i did something bad, taylor swift

They say I did something bad (bad) But why's it feel so good? Most fun I ever had (had) And I'd do it over and over and over again if I could It just felt so good, good

iii. bloodline, ariana grande

Don't want you in my bloodline, yeah Just wanna have a good time, yeah Ain't no need to apologize, no But you gon' have to let this shit go

iv. make me feel, janelle monáe

You know I love it, so please don't stop it You got me right here in your jean pocket (right now) Laying your body on a shag carpet (oh) You know I love it so please don't stop it It's like I'm powerful with a little bit of tender An emotional, sexual bender Mess me up, yeah, but no one does it better There's nothin' better

v. hit different, sza

I was into you from the beginnin' even if you wasn't mine Scared to admit my shortcomin's led to overdraft in this affair, declinin' Quicker than we started, evidence we misaligned Man, I get more in love (more in love) with you each argument Somethin' wrong with me, I like the way you screw your face up Trigger me right when I need it You wrong, but I can't get along without you It's a shame and I can't blame myself, keep on lovin' you You do it different

vi. cherry, harry styles

I, I confess I can tell that you are at your best I'm selfish so I'm hating it I noticed that there's a piece of you in how I dress Take it as a compliment Don't you call him baby We're not talking lately Don't you call him what you used to call me

vii. american money, BØRNS

So take me to the paradise It's in your eyes Green like american money You taste just right Sweet like Tennessee honey And we can run away Swimming in the sunlight everyday Paradise, it's in your eyes Green like american money

viii. supercut, lorde

In my head, I play a supercut of us All the magic we gave off All the love we had and lost And in my head The visions never stop These ribbons wrap me up But when I reach for you, there's just a supercut

ix. don't make it harder on me, chloe x halle

If you keep actin' so sweet I might just wake up and leave This boy that I pinky swore We'd be together for sure I can't be thinking of you When I'm alone with my boo If you smile at me again I may do somethin' stupid

x. what a time, julia michaels

I think of the night in the park, it was getting dark And we stayed up for hours What a time, what a time, what a time You clinged to my body like you wanted it forever What a time, what a time, what a time For you and I What a time, what a time For you and I

[rosepetals-flyingbirds]

Litet-vis-maðr.

With: Biker!Ivar Ragnarson x Reader.

Warning: Language… only that?

Word Count: 2,662.

An unbearable loud noise woke you from your sweet nap. It was midday and since you weren’t feeling good your boss gave you a couple of extra hours on lunch break so you went home to try some rest.

The sound was one you grew accustomed too well. Your neighbor was Siggurd Ragnarson, but he wasn’t the problem. No.

It was his family, his brothers and their terrible motorcycles. But one of them always itched you the most: Ivar.

He was flirt in person if flirt was a person. He couldn’t see you without gazing and give you his signed smirk.

You wouldn’t spend your deserved break awake because of them. Feeling brave enough you got to your feet and walked to the small fence. 

The Ragnarson’s were on their bikes and just one of them was on, the one making the annoying noise, Ivar’s.

“Y/N what an honor to see.”

“Well, some people work! Can you please stop with that? I’m not really good today and I need some sleep.” Ivar looked at Hvitserk and shook his head.

“No can do, princess. We are trying some new breakers.”

“Can’t you try at your house? You don’t live here.”

“So you know where I live now?” He teased.

“Siggurd!” You yelled and Siggurd appeared in the place holding a few beers.

“I’m trying Y/N/N, but Ivar likes the attention.”

You tried one more time more calmly, even though your head was bumping. “Ivar, please.”

Ivar turned it down and you got worried for a moment, he actually listened to you?

You walked back to your house and laid down, only to hear the stupid sound again. “Ivar.” You yelled and ran to your door. “For fuck sakes, I swear!”

Then you saw all of them leaving on their bikes.

Thanks to Ivar you lost all your will to sleep. 

                               …

Back at your work you ended your shift around 8 P.M and walked home holding your bag near your chest. Since your job was close to your house you hadn’t brought your car and decided to walk instead.

In the middle of the path you heard the noise and squeezed your eyes praying to not be the Ragnarson you were expecting. 

But it was.

“Feeling better, princess?” Ivar asked and stood on his bike howling it on the smaller speed.

There it was, the annoying nickname. “Can you quit calling me princess?”

“But is that what you are.”

You stopped your steps and glared at him. “Ivar I’m not in the best mood today. So please, back off.”

He turned the bike off and ran to your reach. “Right I’m sorry.” He reached you but you kept walking. “Listen I’m trying to apologize. Siggurd said he saw you awake late yesterday and how tired you walked back to work. I don’t want to be the reason your tiredness get worse.” He moved to your front and blocked your movements. Scoffing you stopped and gave him your full attention. “Thank you. Now how about I take you to eat something? On me of course.”

“Ivar stop trying to get me, listen you’re all pretty and everything but I’m not another name on your list! Go look for that Margaret bitch your brothers used to share.”

“First is Margret and second,” You rolled your eyes at his attempt to correct her name and pushed him regaining your steps. “Okay okay. Look I’m trying to be nice.” He defended.

“No! You’re trying to get on my pants.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t blame you, you are a guy, your male necessity to feel on top of the food chain and all that shit-”

He grunted. “Why is so hard to believe I like you?”

You laughed. “Ivar, you are a guy, trust me I’m already tired of all the illusion.”

“Go eat with me, a pizza. Then I’ll back off.” You looked deep into his blue eyes.

After a few seconds, you nodded. “Fine! But you are paying!”

You hopped on the bike and Ivar drove you to the best Pizzeria in the town.

In there you sat in the further secluded booth trying to avoid any possible lousy girl that has eyes for the Ragnarson’s.

You two sat facing each other. “So,” He started shyly and you just watched his moves, normally he was annoying the life out of you and then he was nervous?

“So what? Come on Ivar you annoy me all the time.”

“Maybe I don’t want it to be the first and last time we hang out.” You rolled your eyes and started to get on your feet but he laughed and grabbed your wrist. “Please stay. I just can’t believe you here.” He said and his beautiful smile was melting your heart. “Tell me how was your day.” He waved to the waitress and she brought sodas and gave the menu, she spent way too much time watching Ivar’s charming persona before looking you up and down and walking away.

You let it pass and shrugged. “Nothing much, I was feeling bad so I went home earlier, but you know my neighbor’s younger brother is a pain in the ass and didn’t let me sleep.”

“Younger brother, uh? Sounds hot.”

“He likes to think so, but out of his four older brothers he doesn’t look that appealing.”

“Hey!” He shouted smiling. “I’m by far the prettiest,” He said way too surely and you just titled your head smiling at his reactions. He grabbed the drinkings straws and placed inside his mouth under his upper lip making him look like a mammoth. “And the more charming.” His voice became less raspy because of the situation and you couldn’t stop laughing at the vision.

He took it off and looked at every trace of your face. “I made Y/N Y/L/N laugh. I need an award.” He said truly happy.

You nodded your head and enjoyed the sweet atmosphere. He called the waitress back and asked the pizza after arguing with you saying that pineapple pizza wasn’t a real pizza.

The pizza came and you two ate it in silence, you were glancing at his tattoo and wondered about it, by the name Ragnarson you knew where his origins were from, and all of his brothers had the same tattoo in the same spot. “What is the tattoo about?”

He cleaned his mouth with a napkin and turned his palm to be able to see the written. “It was a runic inscription found in the Oseberg ship grave litet-vis-maðr. The owner of the ship was my great-grandfather and all my relatives have that tattoo.”

“That is nice, having something so meaningful and sharing with family, I wonder how would that be.” You smiled at the thought. “What it means?” You drank your soda and Ivar chewed the last piece of pizza for explaining.

“The meaning is debated but generally translated as “man knows little”. It shows us how we are basic down here, that it doesn’t matter how much money or power you think you have, we are just ignorant humans.“

It was really touchy. “Wow, I didn’t know you guys were that philosophical.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged and finished his slices.

The conversation ceased but oddly you didn’t want to. “So how Siggurd know I was awake until the late hours yesterday and how I looked after you left? Did you ask him to spy me?”

He snorted. “Please. If I wanted to spy on you I would do it myself.”

“Good to know, because that doesn’t sound creepy at all.”

He laughed again. “I don’t know I guess he was working on his new music with his stupid band and maybe saw your bedroom’s light on.” It made sense, Siggurd had a band and he was actually really talented, but he didn’t look like the nosy type.

“So you ask about me uh?”

He could defend himself but he always flirted with you so it wasn’t something new. “Maybe.”

You looked around the place and didn’t remember ht last time you went there, you spotted the waitress again and she was literally biting her lip looking at Ivar. “You know, I’m liking all of this.” You moved your hand mentioning the two of you. “But I guess Mrs.RedLips over there are really into you.” He darted his eyes to the young lady and smiled at her. “I can leave if you want me to.” You said pissed.

Ivar chuckled. “Jealous now?”

“Dear Ivar, do whatever you want to do. Just please don’t appear on your brother’s house tomorrow because is my day off and I want to sleep!” You pointed. “Actually if you make me the biggest favor asking your brothers to not go there whether I would love you.”

“You wouldn’t handle loving me.”

“Me? Ivar I can handle anything.” You teased and he asked for the bill.

“How about a ride?” He offered. “We jump on the bike and drive around.”

“If you try anything, just know that I can protect myself and I won’t hesitate to kick your balls.”

Ivar titled his head. “Baby keep talking dirty to me.”

You laughed heartily. “No, please don’t say that!” He laughed too and the waitress literally throws the bill on the table. Ivar shook his head and grabbed the money to pay, you let him. You could split it but Ivar said he wanted to pay and it was his idea after all.

In his motorbike he handed you his helmet. “I won’t use it knowing you can open your head.”

He rolled his eyes. “Y/N why do you make everything more difficult?”

“Look Ivar, thank you but it would be better for me to go home.” You crossed your arms and gave him a small smile.

He cut. “No, listen we can to your house and then you let your purse there and put something warmer and I grab another helmet with Siggurd, sounds good?”

“Why you want that so much? Is a bet or something?”

He took a deep breath. “Woman, you are the most unrealistically complicated person I had ever met. And you know Sigurd is my brother.”

“If it’s I won’t blame you, just tell me already because of I’m tired and way too older to this teenager stuff.” You said with no emotion.

“Is not, I swear.” He answered sincerely.

You thought about his proposal and nodded. “Then okay.” He smiled feeling happy he accomplished another small victory.

                              …

In your house, you took a quick shower and chose some jeans, long sleeve shirt and a jacket.

When you walked into the front yard Ivar was already sat holding the helmets. You grabbed one of them and hugged his midsection while he drove fast. You loved the feeling but he surely didn’t fear to die.

He stopped in front of a garage and you reminded him of your defense classes. 

He just laughed and opened the big door. It had a few motorcycles both fixed and pieces waiting to be put together. A few old car’s seats making a different armchair style. 

A couple of cars, probably something they had been working on and of course some motorcyckes. The place was cozier and bigger than you would expect. “What is that?”

“Our garage, you didn’t believe we would fix the motorcycles on Siggurd’s front yard right?” He pointed and took a few things out of one of the chairs.

“Sometimes I do.” You pointed. “That is so cool.” You couldn’t stop looking at the place, it was mainly vintage, you could easily spot all the Ragnarsons sitting around the place covered in grease working on their loved motorcycles. “So tell me, here is where all of you bring your victims?”

Ivar laughed, fully knowing you meant girls. “Nah, girls don’t like those sort of things. Our uncle has a club and well chicks dig there better.”

You laughed but your eyes were still wondering about the place. “Well, it makes sense.” You saw something craved on the door and saw it was the same runic phrase they had. “Okay, this is like the coolest place ever.”

“Seriously? I thought you didn’t like those things.”

“You’re kidding? Of course I do. I just hate how you and your brothers adore driving around while I’m trying to sleep.” You defended.

“I give you that.”

You looked at the uncountable tools it has over there. “Do you know how to use all of this?”

“I guess my father would disclose me if I didn’t.” He answered and you smirked at the absurdity. 

Ivar asked why and you answered that your car has an annoying sound and you can never fix it.

Then Ivar opened a car’s hood of the one that embellished the place and said he would help you. 

You tried to follow his instruction and all that he explained, when you realized your hand was all dirty just as your t-shirt. “This is easily the dumbest thing you could have put me to do.”

“No come on, look we do this and this.” He mentioned and you saved the information for later. 

You looked at your hand and at him. “Ivar what is the point of teaching me if my car isn’t here?”

“Not everything is practice Y/N.” You giggled and he looked at you wondered if you had lost your mind. “What?”

“Sorry, is just. Not everything is practice could easily be your sextape name.” You kept laughing and tried to place your hand on your lips to control your loud laughs but then your hand was all dirty with grease. 

Ivar laughed and said that karma came to bit you in the ass.

He gave you the cloth and you cleaned the most you could. 

You two talked a few more and he told his childhood stories and you told yours, he offered a beer but you avoided and didn’t let him drink either, he was driving you home after all.

The hours passed rather quickly and you asked him to take you home, you really liked the time but you couldn’t let yourself fall for one Ragnarson, especially Ivar.

He didn’t try anything and it was comforting somehow.

                                …

In your front yard you thanked for the pizza and for the teaching, he agreed and asked you to give the helmet back to his brother. 

The place became silent so you just said goodbye again and started to walk back. “Y/N.” He called. “What about I come back tomorrow or any other day and we can fix your car. I mean really fix it.”

“Goodnight, Ivar.” You answered and grabbed your keys unlocking the door.

“Come on, I need to change the name of my sex tape.” He yelled and you started out laugh, the old lady that lived in front of your house shook her head at Ivar’s words and it made you laugh even more. “Please.”

“I will text you.” You answered entering your house and held the knob in your hand.

He smiled but frowned. “Wait, you don’t have my number.”

“Your brother is my neighbor I will find a way.” You winked and his smiling face was the last thing you saw before you closed the door.

Ivar turned the ignition of his motorcycle on and you heard him leaving the street. 

You bit your lower lip and shook your head thinking about the night.

The annoying Ragnarson wasn’t so bad after all.

                        …