#we do not want to be there to find her anymore

[hotshotsxyz]

too little, too late

(8x08 coda) (buddie) (1.2k) the episode chose violence and so did i :) spoilers for 8x08, and hey, guess what? this is my 100th 911 fic! it feels right that it's an evil one <3

The real estate agent has an irritating voice. It’s pitchy and run through with vocal fry, and if Buck has to listen to her talk for another second, he might actually tear his hair out. And it’s definitely about her voice. Nothing to do with the largely helpful information she’s handing over to Eddie like candy on Halloween.

“Anyway, we can touch base again once you’ve had a chance to look over those listings. I’m sure we’ll find something for both of you to love!” the realtor says.

Buck smiles. It feels brittle and fake.

“Thank you so much,” Eddie says with all the sincerity Buck can’t quite muster. He ends the call and sits back against the couch.

“That, uh—that went, um—” He’s choking on the positivity he’s trying so hard to exude. “—well,” he manages.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He runs a hand through his hair. “Seems easier than I thought it was going to be.”

Easy.

That’s—

Yeah.

“You know you—you don’t have to buy straight away,” Buck says as casually as he can manage, which is to say, not casually at all.

“Buck,” Eddie says with a sigh.

“I know!” Buck says, throwing his hands out in a gesture of surrender. “Just—maybe you want to make sure, you know? Before it’s—it’s permanent.”

“I can’t keep missing out on his life,” Eddie says quietly.

Buck swallows. He knows. He knows! Knows it like he knows there’s going to be an Eddie-and-Chris shaped hole in his heart for the rest of his goddamn life.

“I don’t want you to,” Buck says, and it’s maybe the first honest thing that’s come out of his mouth since he sat down on Eddie’s couch.

Bile rises in the back of his throat as he realizes this might be one of the last times he gets to sit on this couch, in this house, with this man.

Eddie drops his head into his hands. “I don’t—” He cuts himself off.

“Have you told Bobby yet?” Buck asks. His breath catches.

“No,” Eddie says.

“Oh,” Buck says in a rush of air. “That’s—” He wants to say good. He can’t say good. Eddie needs—he needs—

Eddie lifts his head from his hands and his eyes are shining. “I don’t want to,” he admits. “I thought—”

“That he’d want to come back,” Buck supplies when Eddie doesn’t finish his thought.

He nods.

“He still—he could still—” Buck starts.

“He’s not going to change his mind.” Eddie cuts him off. “He doesn’t hate me. It’s worse than that. He doesn’t care.”

Buck’s chest feels tight. “He—he loves you, Eddie,” he says weakly.

“Maybe before, but—”

“He does,” Buck insists. “And—and if this is what you have to do to make sure that stays true I—I get it.” He does. He gets it. He’d do anything for Christopher. He’d—

It’s the worst feeling in the entire fucking world, but he’d give up Eddie for that kid. Is. Is giving up Eddie for that kid. A sob jumps up in Buck’s throat. He fights it back.

“I want to believe you,” Eddie says.

Buck knows that he doesn’t.

“Have you, um. Have you talked to Chris about this yet?” Buck asks, feeling a little bit like he’s just laid his neck across the base of a guillotine.

Eddie shakes his head. “No, I—I’ve got to do this, whether he wants me to or not.”

All at once Buck’s angry. Angry at Eddie, angry at his parents, at fucking Kim, at himself, and maybe even a little bit at Christopher.

“Eddie, you—you told him he could come back!” He says, a little louder than he means to. “Doesn’t he deserve to know that’s not going to be an option anymore?”

Eddie’s gaze snaps to his. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s got—he’s got friends here, and—and Carla, and—” He can’t say it. He doesn’t have the right to say it, doesn’t have the right to feel like he’s already lost a limb and now they’re taking a lung, but— “and me,” he finishes quietly.

Something like devastation flashes across Eddie’s face. “Buck, I—”

“No,” Buck says quickly, standing up from the couch. “I shouldn’t have—I’m not—”

“Buck, wait,” Eddie says, following him as he retreats toward the door.

“I, um—I forgot, I have to—I promised Maddie,” he tries to lie.

“Please don’t go,” Eddie says, and god, how many times in Buck’s life has he yearned to hear someone say that to him and mean it. How many nights has he driven home from Eddie’s wishing he’d been asked to stay.

This thing building in his chest, this thing of anger and grief and regret—it hurts. Every breath he takes is a little more constricted, a little less effective.

Eddie looks at him, and Buck sees it. That thing he’s always wanted to see. That thing he didn’t even know he wanted from Eddie until right now and it’s—

There was a small, naïvely hopeful part of Buck that really still believe that if someone loved him enough, they’d stay. Eddie loves him, looks at Buck like he’ll break his heart when he walks out the door, and it still isn’t—

Eddie loves him, and it isn’t enough to make him stay.

Buck is in love with him, he realizes, and it doesn’t fucking matter because he’s leaving. Like Abby and like Tommy, except Buck didn’t know how much hurt he hadn’t even discovered yet, because this isn’t Abby or Tommy, it’s Eddie, and Eddie—

Eddie’s supposed to be the one that stays.

Buck shakes his head and shuffles back until the doorknob is digging into his spine. “I have to,” he breathes, a grossly distorted reflection of what neither of them has quite managed to say.

Eddie opens his mouth like he’s going to ask again, like he’s going to beg Buck to stay, to show him all these awful pieces of his heart that he’s just found so he can remind himself that it’s not too much to leave behind.

Buck’s out the door before he can say another word.

He throws himself into the Jeep and all but fishtails it out of Eddie’s driveway. He makes it three streets away before he has to pull over.

The first sob surprises him with its softness; the second with its violence. He wraps his arms tight around his stomach and, god, he tries to breathe. But there’s not—there’s not enough oxygen in the entire world to make up for the way his lungs refuse to expand in the face of this loss.

He has to—he can’t—Eddie needs him to pull it together. To—to help him. To support him, and god help him, Buck will. There’s nothing Eddie could ask of him that he wouldn’t give. Nothing Eddie could do, Buck’s realizing, to make him love him any less.

Hot tears spill down Buck’s cheeks. He takes a shuddering breath and wipes them away. His vital organs are crumbling, so what?

He’ll set himself on fire if that’s what it takes to keep Eddie warm.

[foolishaetherguardian]

“… and be sure to report any further unusual tectonic activity. Dismissed.” Bats finally finished the report. Why was he here? Right the first five minutes had been about the possibility of magic having been used. This really should have been an email he just ignored or left Zatanna to deal with. Bunny girl was better at feigning interest than he was after all. “John, Zatanna if you would both remain.”

Damn the brat. Why did the inter dimensional brat decide today to bug him? John knew he could pop up at literally any point in time like it was normal. It was revenge. For what offense he didn’t know. Or maybe he hadn’t even done it yet. Stupid fifth dimensional traveling.

“… stantine. CONSTANTINE.” “Bugger off.”

“John.”

Shit. Okay first names were bad with the cape. Like find a new existence and disappear off the face of the planet bad.

“Right sorry mate just, distracted.”

“The fact that an eldritch horror from who knows where was hanging off you like a scarf actually had some effect on you? You must be getting sentimental in your old age.”

“Love we both know that if it was weighing on me I wouldn’t be around to talk. You wouldn’t be either.” John had some respect for Zatanna. She was a good mage. Understood the proper importance of a cigarette and a blokes need to keep up appearances. Usually at least. “Got a cig?”

“Those will kill you someday.” The disapproval and sarcasm rolled off her tongue as smooth as the honeyed lies the lass would use with magic. John wanted to quip back but settled for a death glare as the big bad bat threatened to perfect his own death glare on him. Why did the bat have to be such a stickler? Rules rules rules. Rules don’t save lives when they shackle you from good. Damnit. Why were all the big dogs so damn… good?

“Hrm.”

Right the bat. The bat that right now probably wanted to string him up by his ankles and let the archdemons sort out how to cut him into nice even thirds if his damned rules didn’t stop him. Why did he have a cigarette?

“Uh bats?”

“Hrm.”

Just as loquacious as always that cape. Keep that thought inside. Definitely keep the thought inside. Especially as you take that stupidly expensive cigarette.

“Thanks. I could really…” The cig was hard. It was candy. The bat almost had an actual expression under the cowl, there was the slightest tightness of the lips. A smirk. He was smirking. ”You know what? Fuck you.” The fake cig crunched in his mouth. It actually tasted pretty good. Not that he was going to ever let anyone know that. “I’m going home. Hopefully to eat my leftovers. The brat isn’t a threat. If you want to know just ask the lass about the between or the Infinite. Or better yet go ask Grundy about The Protector.”

God he needed a drink. And a smoke. And maybe another drink. John was pretty sure that his food was gone too.

“How old is he?”

Dammit lass. Why did you always know just what to say? “14…. I think.” John replied stopping at the door to the stupid tech magic tubes that Supes had insisted on. “He’s some other world’s hero.”

The lass had to think on that one. Not every day you meet an alternate. “Is he… okay?”

“He’s doing alright. Insists his parents couldn’t understand though, so he always carries it alone. Protects people that way, or so he says.” John finally let himself laugh. It was a fitting description of most of the capes who worked with the league. And himself. If he was generous. Pity he couldn’t afford to be generous with himself anymore. “I’m just his fallback. And debit card.”

“It would do him some good to meet others. If you can invite him to the next picnic.”

John blinked slowly. Then turned. The Bat had a smile. A proper smile. Soft and understanding. How? The man was almost certainly just a mass inhuman muscle and brains with the bare minimum speech capability bundled into a bat suit. “I’ll make sure to offer it. But he’s still weird about his… abilities.”

“I’ll get him added to the budget.”

“Budget?” Now this was sounding promising. While the league did pay it wasn’t much more than rent for the closet he used to access the house.

“For young heroes or metas under league guidance. One of the points Bruce Wayne insisted on when he decided to find us officially. So they have a safe place.”

“I’m a safe place?” John’s incredulity was finally outweighing his paranoia. A hefty feat considering even he considered himself to be 90% paranoia by volume.

“Sure sounds like it mate.” Only the lass could say something so damning like it was a good thing.

“{Guess so}” Why did he understand the grunt? Are the grunts some secret dad cape speak? Why was he suddenly qualified for…. Nope. Nope. He’s going home. Sleep liquor and maybe a bit of tele. No he wasn’t tearing up. And no one could see his face to tell you otherwise.

Danny has met Constantine.

Constantine has a coat.

Danny regularly pops out of it to say hi or when Constantine calls him for something.

Nobody in the JL knew this, so when Danny popped right on out in the middle of a meeting.

Well.

[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter Five

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: 2 more chapters to go!

Masterlist: Here

The courthouse doors slammed behind you as you stepped into the empty hallway, your chest heavy with grief. The weight of the decision still hung in the air, pressing down on you like an unbearable burden. Ward had won. He had won Willa.

Your heart was a storm of emotions: fury, betrayal, hopelessness. You had tried so hard. You had fought for Willa, for Sarah and John B., to give her the life they would’ve wanted. But it wasn’t enough. In the end, the system didn’t care. The judge didn’t care. No one cared.

You found yourself sinking against the cold marble wall, your body trembling with the overwhelming sense of failure. You had promised Sarah you would look after Willa, that you would protect her. And now, in a single blow, it felt like you’d lost her.

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and before you knew it, a sob broke free. The grief, the exhaustion, the helplessness—all of it hit you like a tidal wave. You buried your face in your hands, trying to steady yourself, but it felt like everything was slipping through your fingers.

And then you heard him.

Rafe’s footsteps echoed in the hallway, and you didn’t even have to look up to know it was him. He didn’t need to say anything at first—he simply crouched beside you, his hand reaching out to gently pull yours away from your face. His eyes, red-rimmed and brimming with pain, met yours.

“I... I don’t know what to do, Rafe,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I promised Sarah and John B. that I would protect her, that I would keep her safe. And I failed them. I failed her.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, his own pain etched across his face, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached over, pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could shield you from the storm of grief swirling around you both.

He didn’t say anything for a long while. The only sound between you was the occasional shaky breath, the quiet sobs that escaped without warning. But then, Rafe spoke in a voice that barely reached above a whisper.

“You didn’t fail her,” he said, his voice raw. “You fought like hell for her. We both did. We’ve still got a chance to fix this. We’re not done yet.”

You pulled away slightly, looking up at him, trying to see some trace of hope in his eyes, but all you saw was the same frustration, the same loss that mirrored your own.

“I don’t know how we can fight this anymore. Ward’s got everything on his side. He’s won... and I don’t know what to do, Rafe.” You shook your head, feeling the tears come again. “I just want her back. I want to make sure she’s okay.”

Rafe’s hand cupped your cheek, his touch gentle despite the storm brewing inside of him. His eyes softened as he gazed at you, and you saw something there—a kind of resolve you hadn’t noticed before.

“I’m not letting her go, [Y/N]. I’m not,” he said fiercely, his voice trembling. “I’m not giving up on her.”

You nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. You needed to hear that. You needed to believe it.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. “But how? How do we stop Ward?”

Rafe was quiet for a moment, his eyes drifting away as if he was piecing together a plan in his head. His brow furrowed, and you could almost see the wheels turning. Then, his gaze locked onto yours once more, filled with an intensity that made your heart race.

“We take it back to court,” Rafe said, his voice steadying with determination. “We find a way to show that Ward’s not fit to raise her. That we are the ones who should be raising her, not him.”

“Rafe,” you said slowly, your mind racing. “How do we do that? We can’t just... ask for a new judge or something.”

Rafe stood up, pacing back and forth as he thought. You watched him, waiting for him to finish putting the pieces together. He was quiet for a moment, then stopped in front of you, a glint of determination flashing in his eyes.

“We need evidence,” he said, his voice hardening with resolve. “We need proof of what he’s done. All the times he’s hurt us, hurt Sarah, hurt me. All of it. If we can show the court that he’s dangerous, that he’s unfit to care for Willa, we have a shot at getting her back.”

Your heart skipped a beat as Rafe’s words settled in. You knew what this meant. You knew the kind of things Ward had done. The abuse. The manipulation. But it had always been buried under layers of lies and secrecy. It was the one thing that had kept Ward in power for so long.

“You really think we can do that?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe’s gaze softened, but the fire in his eyes didn’t flicker. “I know we can. We’ve got to fight for her. We’ve got to fight for Sarah and John B. We owe it to them.”

You stood up, wiping your eyes, feeling a spark of something in your chest—a glimmer of hope, the first you’d felt in weeks.

“Okay,” you said, your voice steadier now. “Let’s do it. We’re not giving up. We’ll fight him.”

Rafe smiled slightly, though it was tinged with sadness. He reached out, pulling you into a tight hug, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. There was only the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. The grief was still there, weighing heavily on both of you, but now, there was a plan. A way forward.

“We’ll get her back, [Y/N]. I promise.”

And for the first time since the hearing, you believed him.

Together, you’d fight for Willa. You’d fight for Sarah and John B. And this time, you wouldn’t lose.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It was late into the night when you and Rafe began mapping out your plan. The house was eerily quiet, the silence only broken by the occasional murmur of Willa's soft breaths from her room. Rafe sat across from you at the kitchen table, the dim light above casting shadows across his face as he tapped his fingers on the surface, his thoughts clearly miles away.

You, too, were deep in thought, mentally piecing together everything you knew about Ward, everything you had endured growing up in the Cameron household. The years of his emotional and physical abuse. The fights. The silence that followed each blow.

You felt sick just thinking about it, but you couldn’t stop. You had to. This was the only way forward. If you were going to keep Willa safe, you had to make Ward’s past a part of the case, even if it meant digging into old wounds.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you muttered, staring at the open folder on the table in front of you. It was filled with legal documents and notes from your lawyer, a roadmap for how to fight back. But it felt impossible—too big a task, too much to uncover.

Rafe leaned forward, his face tense, but his eyes were determined. “We have to, [Y/N]. We can’t let him get away with it anymore. For Willa. For Sarah.”

His words hung heavy in the air, and you knew he meant it with every fiber of his being. The weight of Sarah’s death had been unbearable for both of you. But now it was more than just grief. It was about keeping Willa safe, keeping her away from the monster that had shaped so much of their lives.

“We need proof,” Rafe continued, glancing at the stack of papers. “We need to find something. Anything.”

You nodded, your mind already racing. You knew that Ward’s past was buried in the same place as all his lies and manipulations. His anger had always been a weapon—aimed at Sarah, at Rafe, and even at you when you had been younger. There had to be something—some record, some shred of truth that you could use to show the world just who Ward really was.

“Do you have anything?” you asked, looking at Rafe.

He exhaled slowly, his gaze distant. “I know a few things,” he admitted quietly. “But they’re not enough. Not on their own.”

You sat back in your chair, trying to calm the nervous fluttering in your chest. “What do you mean?”

Rafe leaned back, rubbing his hands over his face. “I remember... there were moments. When I was a kid. I overheard things. Conversations. There were times when Sarah would—she’d try to protect me, try to shield me from Ward’s anger. But there were... documents. Letters. Things that could prove how he manipulated everything.”

You felt a chill spread over you, a sense of urgency taking over. “Where are they? Can we find them?”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed, and he looked down at his hands. “They’re in the attic. A box of stuff that Sarah and I hid. I don’t know exactly what’s in it, but I remember Sarah saying she didn’t want Ward ever getting his hands on them.”

Your heart raced as a plan started to form in your mind. "We need to go through it, Rafe. Everything we can find. We need to dig through all of it."

He nodded, his jaw tight with determination. “I’ll go through it. I’ll find it.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The following morning, Rafe and you set out for the attic. It felt surreal as you made your way up the stairs to the small, cluttered space that held so many memories—memories of a past neither you nor Rafe had wanted to confront, but knew you had no choice but to face now.

Dust filled the air as Rafe opened the attic door, the wooden steps creaking under your weight as you followed him up. The space was cramped, boxes piled high, old furniture tucked away, things discarded and forgotten. You could smell the mustiness of years gone by, but there was no time to linger. No time to let the memories flood you.

Rafe began to dig through the boxes, pulling out old papers, photos, and forgotten trinkets that had once meant something to Sarah and him. You watched him closely, the tension in his shoulders unmistakable. He was doing this for her—doing this for Willa.

After a few moments, Rafe paused, his fingers brushing against something wedged behind a dusty old coat. He pulled out a small, weathered cardboard box, the tape on the sides barely holding it together.

“This is it,” Rafe murmured. He opened it cautiously, as if he expected something to jump out at him. You peered over his shoulder, trying to calm the pounding in your chest. Inside, you saw a tangle of old photographs and folders—records from the past that, hopefully, would be the key to winning Willa’s custody.

Rafe pulled out a folder first, his fingers trembling as he flipped it open. Inside, there were handwritten letters—letters that Rafe had clearly never meant to read, written in Sarah’s handwriting, detailing arguments, moments of fear, and Sarah’s attempts to escape their father’s control.

“I knew it,” Rafe muttered, his eyes scanning the pages. “Sarah... she tried so hard to protect us from him.”

You felt a lump in your throat as you read over his shoulder. The letters were raw, emotional, detailing Ward’s abusive behavior—his temper, his verbal cruelty, his violence. There were accounts of physical injuries Sarah had tried to hide from the world, and she’d written about the times Ward had hurt both of them, though she never named it outright. She’d tried to find ways to escape him, even at a young age.

“This is what we needed,” you said softly, a feeling of relief flooding through you. “This is it, Rafe. This is proof. We can use this.”

Rafe stared down at the letters, his eyes glossy. He didn’t speak for a moment, and the weight of everything he had lived through—everything you were now uncovering—seemed to press down on him.

“I never wanted her to know,” Rafe whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I never wanted Willa to go through what we went through. I thought I was protecting her by keeping her away from all this.” He swallowed hard, his voice barely audible. “But we can’t keep running from it. If we want to win this, we need the truth.”

You nodded, reaching out and placing a hand on his. “You didn’t fail, Rafe. You’re doing everything you can for her. We’ll make sure she’s safe. We’ll make sure Ward doesn’t win.”

Rafe exhaled deeply, looking at the papers in his hands. “We’ll do whatever it takes. We’re not losing her.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believed him.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The attic felt smaller as the hours passed, the musty air thick with the weight of the secrets it held. You sat beside Rafe on the dusty floor, the pile of evidence between you growing larger. Letters. Photographs. Police reports. Even old school records. It was all beginning to paint a picture of a man no one ever truly understood—the man who had shaped Sarah, Rafe, and their entire childhood.

You flipped through a few more papers, the words on the pages starting to blur as your emotions overwhelmed you. There were times Sarah had begged to be seen, to be heard, and each word you read was like another stab to your heart.

“God…” you whispered, your hand trembling as you gripped the edge of a photo. It was one of Sarah, just a child, smiling in a way that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The darkness that had been lurking in the background of their lives, the abuse they had endured, was so clear now. It wasn’t something you’d seen before—perhaps because you hadn’t wanted to see it. But now, as the layers were peeled back, the reality hit you like a flood.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Rafe’s voice cut through the silence, soft and gentle. “Hey, you okay?”

You blinked and wiped at your eyes, trying to keep it together. But the tears didn’t stop. “How could he do this to her?” Your voice cracked as you looked down at the photograph. “How could he hurt them like this? How could he… do this to you?”

Rafe was silent for a long moment, and you felt him shift beside you. You could feel the heat of his body, the tension in his muscles, the quiet grief that hung in the air like a thick fog.

You turned to look at him, catching him staring at you, his eyes shadowed with pain. The walls he had built around himself were always so thick—so hard to penetrate. But now, in this moment, with all the pieces of the past laid bare, the mask he wore seemed to crack just enough to let you see the real him.

“I’m sorry you had to see all this,” he said quietly, his voice heavy. “You didn’t deserve to know the ugliness of it.”

Your chest tightened. “No, I needed to know. I need to understand.”

Rafe took a deep breath, rubbing his hand across his face. His shoulders slumped, and for the first time since you’d met him, you saw a man who wasn’t just the spoiled, angry son of a cruel father. You saw a man who had been broken by his past, a man who had been fighting every day to prove he wasn’t his father. But in his search for redemption, he’d never realized that the hardest thing to do was forgive himself.

“I know I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of,” Rafe muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I didn’t... I didn’t want to be like him. I never wanted to be like him. I was just... trying to survive. Trying to protect Sarah, protect myself.”

You swallowed hard, your heart aching for him. You had always seen the worst in him, the ways he lashed out, the cruelty that sometimes bled through. But now, as you sat there with him, you understood. You understood that his anger, his rebellion, was just a defense mechanism. A mask for the hurt he carried, the fear that had been instilled in him from a young age.

“Rafe…” Your voice trembled as you reached out, placing a hand over his. “You’ve done so much for her. For Willa. You’re not like him. Not in any way. You’re more than what he said you were. More than anyone ever saw.”

The words were barely out of your mouth when you saw something flicker in his eyes. Vulnerability. Pain. A need for validation. For the first time, you realized just how much he needed to hear that. Needed someone to see him for who he truly was.

Rafe leaned forward, his forehead coming to rest against yours, his breath shallow and uneven. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of everything hanging between you. His hand, warm and slightly trembling, cupped the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin there. You could feel the electricity between you, the way his body tensed, the way you both seemed to exist in this moment where everything else faded away.

And then, as if something snapped, you moved without thinking. Your lips found his in a soft, tentative kiss—a kiss that was born from shared grief, from the fragile hope that had flickered between the two of you ever since you had started this journey together. It was a kiss full of longing, of understanding, of something neither of you had been ready to admit until now.

Rafe kissed you back, slowly, as though he was testing the waters. His hand slid to your jaw, holding you gently as his lips pressed against yours with a tenderness that surprised you both. There was nothing frantic about it, no rush. Just the simple, raw need to connect, to feel something good after all the loss.

When you finally pulled away, your breaths came in shaky bursts. Rafe’s eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. You didn’t know what to say. Words didn’t seem to matter in that moment.

But then you both spoke at once, as if trying to make sense of the overwhelming emotions swirling between you.

“I… I didn’t mean to—”

“Wait, that was… I shouldn’t have—”

You both fell silent, the awkwardness creeping in. But something had shifted. The tension between you had transformed into something else—something deep, something unspoken. You realized, maybe for the first time, that the lines you had drawn between each other were no longer so clear. The walls were crumbling, and in their place was a fragile, but undeniable connection.

“I just…” you started, your heart racing. “I just needed to tell you that you’re not your father, Rafe. You never were. And I... I see you. I see all of you.”

He exhaled sharply, his thumb gently caressing your cheek, his gaze intense. “And I see you too. I don’t know what this means, but I—”

Before he could finish, you pressed your forehead against his, closing your eyes. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure everything out. For Willa. For us.”

Rafe nodded, his hands still resting on your face. You both knew that the road ahead was going to be hard—there was no easy way forward. But for the first time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t alone in it anymore.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[jungshookz]

teeny tidbits: jungkook gets hurt during practice and the only thing y/n has in her backpack are miffy bandaids 

➺ pairing; quarterback!jungkook x librarian!y/n

➺ genre; university!au!!! sfw!! soft soft fluff!! jungkook and y/n are so fond of each other wowowow it actually makes me physically nauseous please get a ROOM

➺ wordcount; 1k

»»————- ♥ ————-««

“ow!” jungkook hisses, wincing as you dab against the scrape on his arm with a cotton ball that’s been drenched in a generous amount of warm water, “ow…”

“sorry, i know…” you mutter, trying your best to be as gentle as possible as you reduce your pressure (you were already going feather light but jungkook has always been a big baby with cuts and scrapes) and toss the soiled cotton ball aside before reaching for another one in the big plastic bag, “i can’t believe you guys don’t have a proper first-aid kit.” 

“it’s taehyung’s fault, coach asked him to restock it and apparently he completely forgot.” jungkook snorts, glancing down at the rusty tin box sitting on the counter next to him - you managed to find it after about fifteen minutes of searching the changing rooms but you were more than disappointed when you opened the rusty old box to find practically nothing but dust 

but if this were a real emergency, jungkook would be bleeding out on the ground and all you’d have to try to save your boyfriend is a single q-tip and one dried out packet of rubbing alcohol

luckily, you always carry a mini first aid kit with you in your backpack - last winter you slipped on a rogue patch of ice and ended up falling to the ground, your poor books sliding across the sidewalk and your palms all scraped up and bloody, so ever since then, you’ve been carrying your little pouch with you in case of emergencies 

gauze, bandaids, cotton balls, surgical tape, and some hard candies - you have it all!! 

“explain to me again what the hell you guys were trying to do out there?”

“taehyung said that when one sense goes dark, the other ones become way stronger and we wanted to test that theory out-“ 

“so you did this on purpose-“ you pause, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion, “you blindfolded yourself and ran around the football field on purpose.” 

“i thought i had better instincts than this!” jungkook gestures to himself, his kneecaps all scraped up along with a few scratches on his arms, “and my head hurts…” 

watching jungkook run into the goal post full force would’ve been comical if it weren’t for the fact that that was literally what happened - he ran full force into a damn goal post and thank god he was wearing a helmet otherwise he probably would’ve knocked himself clean out

“i don’t wanna study anymore.” jennie huffs, leaning back against the benches behind you guys as she props her elbows up on them, “can’t we do something else to pass the time while they’re practicing?” 

“i don’t wanna study anymore either, but weirdly enough this is the only time i can really concentrate.” you shrug, keeping your eyes on your laptop as your fingers continue to dance across your keyboard, “is this the only google presentation the professor shared with us this week? i swear there’s another one-“ 

“all you care about are google presentations and taking notes-“

“it’s coming up to finals season, of course all i care about are google presentations and taking notes-“ 

KONK!

“oh, shit-!“ you look up when you hear taehyung’s loud laugh travel over to where you’re sitting, your eyes squinting slightly when you notice that jungkook on the ground, “wait, that was kinda sick, actually, we should do that again-“”

“aw, gross!” jungkook gets up from the ground and shakes himself off and that’s when you notice crimson smeared across his legs as he hobbles towards your general direction, taehyung trailing behind him, “yuck, there’s dirt and shit in my cuts-“

“oh my god, jungkook!” you slap your laptop shut and set it aside, grabbing your backpack and practically sprinting down the steps, “are you okay?! what the hell happened?!” 

and that’s how you ended up here - patching up your idiot boyfriend with nothing but miffy bandaids because that’s all the store was selling (it was miffy or hello kitty, and you’ve always loved miffy) - and you’ve practically used up the entire pack at this point 

“i just think that you have to think about whether or not an idea sounds stupid before deciding to do it.” you huff, tossing another soiled cotton ball into the bin before peeling open the thin wrapper for the bandaid

“well, how am i supposed to know if an idea is stupid or not?”

“you didn’t think blindfolding yourself and running around a football field was stupid?”

“no, i thought it was an innovative training technique that’s been undiscovered by coaches in the world of football!” jungkook perks up, sticking a finger up into the air before shutting his eyes so that you can tend to the little scratch above his eyebrow 

you settle in between his legs from where he’s sitting up on the counter and he instinctively reaches down to place both his hands a little above your waist before giving you a squeeze, “thank you, by the way.” he says softly, and you can’t help help but smile before leaning forward to press a little kiss to the corner of his mouth 

“you’re welcome. i’m gonna need a new box of miffy bandaids because you literally used up the entire thing.” you can’t help but frown as you place the last one on his brow bone, “on the bright side, you look really cute with miffy bandaids, so i don’t regret giving them all to you. but you seriously have to stop trying to kill yourself during practice.” 

“i’m more of a hello kitty guy, to be so real.” jungkook opens his eyes, leaning down to give you a quick kiss before pulling away, “and you worry too much about me.”

“you worry too little!” 

🎙️ ask y/n what kind of candy is in her first-aid pouch (talk to my characters!) 

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to yoongi and y/n in la vie en bonsai, they miss you!) 

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits like this!) 

[deathbxnny]

Haiiii Can we get like a oneshot of Vi x f!drunk reader? Maybe where reader is like rlly flirty and horny when drunk and wants to have fun with Vi but obviously Vi doesn’t do anything and just tries to take care of her?

Vi taking care of drunk fem!Reader.

This was written by someone who has never touched alcohol, so I hope it's not too bad-

Content: alcohol, reader is drunk as hell, established relationship, SFW

Reader is asked to be afab and uses she/her pronouns!

((Not proofread))

"Damnit... you drank way too much this time around, cupcake..." Vi sighed out with a shake of her head as she hauled you into your shared home after a long night out in Zaun's busy bars. You were just giggling to yourself at her words, finding them silly and untrue, of course. You weren't drunk at all! Far from it, actually. Never mind your inability to see clearly or walk straight for that matter.

"I'm... not drunk! I uh... yeah." Your girlfriend rolled her eyes at your oh-so-convincing argument whilst she made you sit on the couch in your living room. Trying to just get you to bed as fast as possible, she kneeled down infront of you to take your shoes off, eyes focused on her task at hand and yet you were far from interested in resting now. No, you had plans.

Plans that involved her.

"Hey... what are ya' doin'?" You asked, not even trying to pronounce your words properly anymore. Your hands came up to play with her short pink hair before they slid down to cup her face. Glancing up at you, she raised a slight brow. She knew that look in your eyes. But not tonight, she thought. Not when you're literally unable to even sit up right. "Getting you ready for bed." "Oooh... I love the sound of that!" Deadpanning, she fought the urge to sigh in disappointment. Typical. And usually, she'd indulge in your wishes, but again, not like this.

"Nope, not like that. Now come on, let's get ya to bed, pretty." She said, quick to pick you up with scary ease that made your heart flutter and giggle in excitement. Yet that all slipped away when you processed her clear rejection. "Whattttt?? But the bed is right thereee." "Sure is, princess." It was honestly really amusing to see you so needy for her. And whilst she was stressing a bit, it definitely made for good material to tease you with later.

Carefully laying you down onto the bed, she couldn't help but chuckle at the way you began melting into the mattress involuntarily. "Ya look reallyyy good tonight, Vi-" "-Thanks. Drink this water for me, please." She hummed, skillfully distracting you as though she had been through this a million times before. She gave you no chance to argue back either, with the way she simply made you drink a whole glass of water whilst making sure the bed was fluffy and comfortable enough for you to be in.

All you could do was pout and give her a defeated glare that made her smile. "Sorry, but that's just how things are gonna be tonight, alright? Besides, I bet you're really tired." And you absolutely were, much to your dismay. Vi on the other hand, knew that you were going to get a deadly headache once you woke up and went ahead to place some painkillers and a bucket, just in case, at your bedside table. She needed to prepare everything for your approaching doom the best she could, after all.

Her attention was averted back to you when she noticed you having fallen asleep whilst she was taking care of you. A gentle smile rested on her face, your image mirroring in Vi's eyes lovingly as she admired your form. "Well... that was fast. So much for not being drunk, ey?" But she didn't mind it. After getting ready herself, she pulled you into a tight embrace and fell asleep as well, glad to have you safe and sound with her.

And even if you were unfortunately rejected tonight... there is always tomorrow.

[dissapointu]

You are extremely cool, I am impressed by your works, really, your content is amazing. If you don mind (ignore that if you do) I would love to read about arcane characters who found out that their s/o are self harming. English is not my native language, so sorry if I wrote something wrong. And thank you again for your content, it’s healing me

Thank you so much for your kind words—they mean the world to me, truly. I’m so honored that my writing can bring you even a little bit of comfort. You’re so brave for sharing this request, and I want you to know I’m writing this with as much care and as I can. You’re never alone, and you deserve all the support, love, and healing in the world.

Jinx

Jinx has lived through her own struggles, so when she finds out, it hits her hard.

• At first, she’d be shocked, maybe even a little panicked. “Wait, wait… you’re serious? You’re really feeling this way?”

• But once it sinks in, her protective side takes over. She’d grab your hands, look you in the eyes, and say something like, “You don’t have to hurt yourself, okay? I’m here. Always. You can tell me anything.”

• Jinx might struggle to find the right words, but she’d pour her energy into reminding you how much you mean to her, distracting you with her chaotic ideas or working on projects together to keep your mind busy.

• “You’re stuck with me, got it? No matter what.”

Vi

Vi would feel a gut punch of worry and guilt when she finds out, blaming herself for not noticing sooner.

• She’d approach you carefully, her usual confidence softened by concern. “Hey, I know something’s going on. You can talk to me. I’m not going anywhere.”

• When you open up, she’d immediately pull you into a hug, holding you tightly like she could shield you from your pain. “I don’t care how bad it gets. You’re not alone in this, okay? I’m with you.”

• Vi would try to help in her practical, straightforward way—whether that’s sitting with you during hard times, helping you find support, or just being a safe space for you to vent.

• “You’re strong. And on the days you don’t feel strong, I’ll be strong enough for both of us.”

Sevika

Sevika might not know how to respond at first, but underneath her tough exterior, she’d be deeply shaken and determined to support you.

• She’d bring it up gently, her voice calm but serious. “I’ve noticed… some things. You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

• Once you told her, she’d listen carefully, nodding as she processes what you’re saying. “Alright. Thanks for telling me. You don’t have to do this alone anymore. I’ve got you.”

• Sevika would be protective in her own quiet way, always keeping an eye on you without making you feel overwhelmed. She’d remind you of your strength, even when you couldn’t see it yourself.

• “You’re tougher than whatever’s weighing you down. And I’ll remind you of that every day if I have to.”

Silco

Silco would approach the situation with a calm intensity, his protective instincts kicking in immediately.

• He’d carefully bring it up when you seemed open to talking, his voice low but steady. “I’ve seen the marks. Let me help you.”

• When you open up, he’d listen without interruption, his expression serious but full of quiet care. “The weight you carry is yours, but you don’t have to carry it alone. You are far more than this pain.”

• Silco would offer practical help, ensuring you have resources or someone to talk to. He’d remind you of your worth with every gesture and word, showing you that he sees you as more than your struggles.

Vander

Vander would be heartbroken when he finds out, but he’d immediately focus on making you feel safe and supported.

• He’d sit you down somewhere quiet, his voice soft but firm. “Hey, I’ve noticed some things that worry me. Can we talk?”

• When you open up, he’d pull you into a warm, protective hug, whispering, “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here, no matter what.”

• Vander would be the type to check in regularly, always making sure you feel loved and valued. He’d remind you of all the reasons he admires you, even on days when you struggle to see them yourself.

Ekko

Ekko would be hit hard when he finds out, but he’d channel his feelings into being the best support system he could be.

• He’d approach you gently, finding the right moment to say, “Hey, I noticed some stuff, and I just wanna make sure you’re okay. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

• When you open up, he’d nod, taking it all in with quiet understanding. “Thanks for trusting me. I know it’s not easy.”

• Ekko would find little ways to lift you up—whether it’s spending time with you, leaving you encouraging notes, or reminding you of all the things he loves about you.

• “You’ve got me, okay? We’re in this together.”

Jayce

Jayce would be deeply concerned but determined to be there for you in every way possible.

• He’d sit you down gently and say, “I’ve noticed something… and I just want to make sure you’re alright. Can we talk about it?”

• When you open up, he’d listen carefully, his hands holding yours tightly. “You’re not alone in this. I’m here, and I’ll do whatever it takes to help you.”

• Jayce would be all about finding solutions, whether that’s helping you access resources, supporting you in your healing, or just being a steady presence in your life.

Viktor

Viktor would be quietly devastated when he finds out, but his empathy would shine through.

• He’d bring it up carefully, his voice soft but full of concern. “I’ve noticed some things, and… I just want to make sure you’re alright. Can you talk to me?”

• When you open up, he’d listen with his full attention, nodding as he processes everything. “Thank you for telling me. I know it’s not easy.”

• Viktor would find thoughtful ways to support you, whether it’s leaving you encouraging words, sharing quiet moments with you, or reminding you that he sees you as more than your pain.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn would approach the situation with grace and quiet strength.

• She’d gently sit you down and say, “I’ve noticed some things that worry me. You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready, but I’m here.”

• When you open up, she’d take your hand and say softly, “You’re so important to me, and I want to help in any way I can. You’re not alone.”

• Caitlyn would make sure you feel supported without overwhelming you, always reminding you of how much she admires and cares for you.

Mel Medarda

Mel would be deeply empathetic and immediately focused on supporting you in a way that feels meaningful.

• She’d approach you gently but directly, saying, “I’ve noticed something… and I want to help. Can we talk?”

• When you open up, she’d listen carefully, her expression soft but serious. “You are worth every bit of effort and care, and I’ll remind you of that as often as you need.”

• Mel would be the type to help you find resources or create a support system, always making sure you know you’re loved and valued.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa would approach the situation with quiet strength and determination.

• She’d bring it up directly but with care, saying, “You’ve been carrying this alone for too long. Let me help.”

• When you open up, she’d nod seriously and say, “You are stronger than this pain, and I’ll stand by you every step of the way.”

• Ambessa would be fiercely protective, always reminding you of your worth and showing you that you’re never alone in this battle.

Maddie Nolen

Maddie would be soft and empathetic, immediately focusing on making you feel safe.

• She’d sit with you quietly and say, “I noticed some things, and I just want to make sure you’re okay. Can we talk?”

• When you open up, she’d hold your hands tightly and say, “Thank you for telling me. I’m here, always.”

• Maddie would be the type to check in with you often, reminding you through little actions and words that you’re loved and never alone.

Lest

Lest would be heartbroken but gentle and supportive when she finds out.

• She’d approach you with quiet care, saying, “I noticed something, and I just want to make sure you’re okay. Can we talk?”

• When you open up, she’d listen attentively and say softly, “Thank you for trusting me. You don’t have to carry this alone anymore.”

• Lest would make sure you always felt loved and valued, reminding you that you mean so much to her.

[scrunglepaws]

"I come from a big family; lots of siblings. Too many to talk about individually without taking all your time, so I'll just pick a few. Hmm... I suppose I'll start off with the eldest, Silas. I think he was about the best big brother someone could have. Strong, protective, loyal, kind-hearted. I looked up to him a lot as a little kid. Now that we're both grown, I find him a bit tiresome. Er- not for any bad reasons, though! It's just that his mannerisms have changed ever since he set out to sea. Sailors must be a rowdy bunch because he's just so loud and boisterous anymore. Between him, his wife, and his flock of kids; it's just a LOT of chaos to deal with all at once. Saps the energy right out of me, you know? He's a good person though, and a better son than me. He supports his family and is able to regularly send money to our parents, too. Still helping out with the farm even after he left! I'm happy for his success."

"Out of all my siblings, I spent the most time with Nine. We're pretty close in age and just sort of ended up being more of the oddballs in the family. I was because of, uh, my interest in magic… And having two tails… But Nine was sort of outlandish on purpose. Because she was the youngest, she often felt overshadowed and wanted to stand out. She's a girl? Well then, she doesn't want anything to do with femininity. She's named Nina? That's boring; she'll come up with her own name. No one likes to hang out with Tails? Well then, she will! Eh… heheh… Eh… It was nice to have one sibling to confide in and share secrets with now and then. I even told her about how I was baffled by romance and never wanted to marry. Instead of calling me weird, she made a pact with me to never get married either! Well… Until she met that girl, Fiona, and they started dating, but… It's fine. She's not beholden to some dumb promise we made when she was 12. We mostly drifted apart when I moved out anyway."

"Nowadays I'm not particularly close with any of my siblings. Or my parents. Growing up, I was more likely to keep to myself. It's um, sort of embarrassing, but I was kind of afraid of my family? I'd get this from everyone now and again, but my two older brothers especially liked to say that I was actually a changeling. You know, that their real brother was replaced as an infant by a spriggan, leaving behind me: a changeling. A… Fae creature. They said that Mother and Father would find me out soon enough and abandon me in the forest, back where I belong. Or that they'd beat me so I'd confess my origin and return the "real" Miles. Apparently my parents left my older brother, Manny, in the forest when they suspected him of the same thing, but he proved himself by making his way back home. C-Clearly just things they made up! A-And I don't have nightmares about it now that I'm grown… But, uh… I am ashamed to admit that I purposefully never really spent time with Manny because of that. I just- I didn't want to give them any more reasons to suspect me. He was a very strange kid, even to me. I regret never trying to understand him. I think maybe… We might have had a lot in common. And not because of anything to do with fae."

For characters!

If any of you have family, what's your family relationship like?

More character questions!!

[megismyname]

I've been curious why you haven't been doing your 'lives' lately, and really kinda wanting them. The few that you had, brought me a sense of comfort. But tonight, I ventured onto another person's live, and saw that they were having to constantly dodge comments from trolls.

I don't know if everyone feels this way, but I feel we are in a good place right now. We have been given beautiful, chess playing, crumbs recently from Nicola and her 'Team'. Even with the minor setbacks, everything is still good.

So just want to say that I get why you haven't been doing your lives, is because you don't want to let the negative spoil the positive message we've been given.

Hi there!

Short answer: I've been having a phase of being "over" Tiktok.

Longer answer: I am not a person who holds their tongue very well. I speak my mind and I tell people what I think about them when they are in the wrong. There are quite a few "larger" creators in this fandom who were taking it upon themselves to "educate" the fandom and become the moral police. Now to be fair, I am now blocked by most of them so my life is pretty blissful but it doesn't mean their toxic ramifications do not trickle down.

I find it very important to let you know that I am not afraid of trolls or toxic people and I will not cower to them. These are insecure people on the internet who are typically hiding behind the face of a celebrity - around here that's usually Nic - and that empowers them to speak the way they do. I guarantee if you met them on the street, they wouldn't say 75% of the stuff to your face.

Now I also need to say that I needed a break from TT lives because the fandom was exhausting me. This is not aimed at you Anon as I don't even know who you are. I am not a spiral-er because frankly there is nothing to spiral about. In the end, none of this affects my life personally. And as for those background characters, I don't give two craps about them. But there are a lot of you out there who just can't stop yourselves and my inbox was OVERFLOWING with people who needed their hands held and reassurance. After multiple N&J sightings in October, I just couldn't do it anymore. It is not my job to hold everyone's hand through this or tell you what to think and feel and I'm sorry if that offends anyone. We are all adults and we all need to find a way to manage our emotions and if you're going to break down over every little thing then you might need to step back and take a break.

That being said, I do plan on doing a live again one day soon as I know there are alot people who just want to be on there and laugh at silly shit and I'm always down for that. I just needed the fandom to break through a lot of this bullshit first.

[moghedien]

this isn’t meant to be judgement on what other people choose or their opinions and there are reasons why there is no actual ideal solution, but if I’m playing the game in which I want every character to get what I feel is the best outcome for them personally, Shadowheart is always ending the game with her parents alive

There are a couple of reasons for this. I’ve done both endings with the Selûnite path for her, and I literally just let her pick what she wanted the first time (which ended in her parents dead) and seeing both, I do think she’s happier with her parents alive in general. I think, as with other characters (specifically Lae’zel comes to mind in her romance) you have to kinda challenge them on what their first immediate response is when giving them an option in order to get to what actually makes them happiest and what they’re afraid to admit

But if we’re not even taking like the arbitrary measure of happiness into account, I do think that thematically, keeping her parents alive is the only real option if you don’t want Shar to win.

The options here are either let her parents die and Shadowheart is free of the pain in her wound, or save her parents and Shadowheart spends the rest of her life with the threat of the wound hurting her at any moment. Basically no parents and no pain or parent and chronic pain for the rest of her life.

Harsh options either way, and especially when you phrase it as “chronic pain forever” being the thematically correct path, but look at it from the angle of rejecting Shar and what those options really signify form a Sharran angle.

If her parents die, she has no pain, which is good, but she also has no parents. She has no way of learning about her past other than random scraps she might find or maybe eventually remember somehow. She also has no attachment to her Sharran cloister anymore and no attachment to any Selûnite community either. She’s void of everything, including the physical pain. Now there’s obviously like emotional turmoil she’s feeling, and you do get a scene where she expresses that, but it’s from her loss. She only has loss now. The Lady of Loss gave up her physical hold on Shadowheart and in doing so, made Shadowheart embrace loss. Shar might not win completely, but she doesn’t really care about her individual followers and communities as much as they want her to. This is still a win for Shar because she still got Shadowheart to make Sharran choices in the end and embrace losing everything: the pain, her parents, her community, her past.

Hell, the desire to free oneself from pain entirely is a very Sharran pursuit. It’s why we see people turn to Shar. Ketheric turned to Shar as a way to get Isobel back and free himself from grief. One of the people that can lead you to the Sharran cloister is a man who remembers nothing about himself except that the House of Grief helped him because he was very sad and now he isn’t. Nevermind the fact that he doesn’t even know where he lives now or that Ketheric didn’t get what he wanted, it’s the motivation of freeing oneself from some kind of pain that drives people to Shar.

That is why Shadowheart received the injury in the first place.

I jokingly call it a shock collar sometimes, but that is basically what it literally is. You can get Shadowheart’s dad to reveal more about it if you control her and go talk to him in camp. The wound is because Shadowheart was constantly misbehaving and her parents weren’t converting, and they needed something to keep her in line and also motivate her parents. Shadowheart’s pain was supposed be negative reinforcement for her not to act on her kinder inclinations and for her parents to finally fall in line and reject Selûne so that they would stop seeing Shadowheart in pain. The desire for no more pain was supposed to drive Shadowheart and her family closer to Shar.

And all of this on top of the fact that Shadowheart’s memory was wiped repeatedly to an extreme degree, even by standards of the evil memory wiping cult. She was supposed to be a blank slate that only desired to feel nothing by the end. The perfect Sharran.

So if she keeps her family alive, what does she get? A life time of guaranteed pain from Shar, but also her family. Guilt over learning all she’s done to her parents over the 40 years they were held captive, but also answers about her life before Shar and kinder memories with them after Shar. She doesn’t get to not know all that she’s done and all that’s been taken from her, and she’s forced to feel all the negative emotions that come with that, but she gets comfort and positive feelings too.

The moment I keep going back to is the scene you get after she saves her parents where she’s clearly distressed. You get a similar version of this if her parents are dead, but if her parents are alive, they show up at the end of the scene when she’s crying because of the guilt she’s feeling toward all that happened to them. The specific moment in that which I obsess over a bit is when Shadowheart apologizes to them and says that they shouldn’t have to see her like this (because they just walked in on her crying). And it’s her mom’s response to that which makes me a little insane

It’s the emphasis on feeling that really gets me, and I think is the most important part here.

Because Shadowheart was apologizing specifically for them seeing her feeling. She was in this moment apologizing for them having to see her crying and in a very vulnerable emotional state over her own personal struggles and the immense amount of guilt she feels over seeing the extent of what was done to her parents, some of which she did. She’s not supposed to feel anything about that, as a Sharran. She’s not supposed to feel at all as a Sharran, good or bad.

But it’s her very visibly feeling something that her mom points out wanting to see. it’s the one word she puts emphasis on, because that alone is proof that Shar doesn’t have a hold on her. If she’s feeling something, even if it’s bad, then Shar isn’t winning and isn’t controlling her. Shar literally had to resort to trying to coax her into wanting nothing more than to be free of feeling in order to get her to behave, after all.

If Shadowheart accepts that she’ll have pain for the rest of her life in order to save her family, Shar doesn’t get anything but the shock collar she already had. And the point of the shock collar was to eventually never use it. Hurting Shadowheart wasn’t what Shar wanted. Shar wanted to eventually stop hurting Shadowheart because that meant she was a good perfect little Selûnite-turned-Sharran who had been properly corrupted. Pain wasn’t the point and was supposed to have an ending if Shar got what she wanted.

So when Shadowheart rejects the loss of the pain, that’s about as close as she can get to telling Shar to go fuck herself. Her plans didn’t work, not even a little. Shadowheart isn’t wiping her slate clean (again) and rejecting feeling things just because they’re painful. She’s reconnecting with the past that they spent 40 years trying to erase and she’s doing it even though it’ll be hurt.

Basically by keeping her parents alive, she’s doing every single thing Shar has spent four decades trying to stop her from doing and giving Shar absolutely nothing in return. Shar gets nothing besides the ability to hurt Shadowheart, which isn’t even something she wanted in the first place.

And proof of this is shown in the epilogue, where if you romance Shadowheart and kept her parents alive, you both point out what Shar hasn’t been triggering the wound much lately. She triggers it a lot and randomly in the end of the game, and it’s clear she’s pissed off, but by the time six months have passed, it’s apparently barely happening. Because pain wasn’t the point and it wasn’t what Shar wanted. The pain was Shar throwing a tantrum because she didn’t get what she wanted. Shadowheart calls it petty in the game and that’s literally what it is. Just pettiness from a god. And it’ll probably happen to some extent for the rest of Shadowheart’s life, yes, but it’s clear that Shar is bored and realizes it’s not going to work. She might try some other ways to get at Shadowheart eventually, but in making that choice, Shadowheart denied her any ounce of power that Shar actually cares about. Even if the pain is there, the fact that it’s there is proof that Shar failed.

[plasticfreckles]

🪶 early morning rookanis enjoy 🪶

Lucanis leaves the pantry to see Rook stumbling towards the stove, delightfully disheveled. Hair tumbling from her head in a middle part instead of swooped across her skull and down one shoulder, shirt umbuttoned lower than he dares to look.

Spite still points out the green and purple fabric of her breastband.

"Good morning." She jumps, suddenly, only barely keeps from spraining her ankle.

"Where did you come from?"

Lucanis points his thumb over his shoulder.

"The pantry. Like every morning." Rook huffs, runs both hands up her face and lightly pulls at the roots of her curls. "Short night?"

"My night was long enough," she starts, moving out of his way and leaning against the worktop, watching him light the fire in the oven. "Then I had the weirdest dream in a minute, right before waking up. Whatever rest I got - ruined."

"Want to talk about it? It'll take a while for the water to boil."

Rook rubs at her eyes.

"Dreamt Emmrich made me partake in some Fade magic or whatever but it backfired and I came out tall and skinny, but really disproportionate."

Came back wrong. Smells not right. Dry potsoil. Old, dry potsoil.

"Would.. would you not prefer to be tall and skinny?" Lucanis himself could surely do with a few more inches in the legs, on his bad days.

It dawns on him an instant too late, the way his question sounds, even to his own ears. But she's not offended. Far from it, actually.

"Are you kidding? Absolutely not. Have you seen my thighs?" Rook stands back up straight and cocks her hip. The high Crow boots and tight pants hug her curves enticingly. "Luscious, but spacially demanding."

A pause, as he crushes some coffee beans in a mortar. If he remembers his labels correctly, these beans will have a hint of chocolate flavor in them.

"Besides, people never think it's the short, fat elf who'll kill them." Lucanis snorts at that.

He pretends not to notice the way Rook's eyes linger on his forearm, the popping veins and the shifting muscles.

"Would you prefer to be taller?" Rook asks after a while.

"Sometimes. Though less because of the actual height and more because of the jokes." The noise out of her is knowing, familiar.

"Head taller than a cheese wheel." A phrase they both must have heard more times than they could care to count, judging by the familiarity in the way she quotes it. She moves away from the cooking corner, toward the cupboard around the stairs.

"How did you get into coffee?" She asks it as though it's a story she knows, and knows it well. So, as per usual, he deflects.

"How does anyone get into coffee? I imagine you told someone you were tired and they handed you a cup." Lucanis pauses, as he transfers the ground beans into a filterrag and secures it over the pot. "Only that it made you more tired."

She laughs, wiping out the two cups she chose with a dishrag.

"Accurate. Though the way you speak about coffee, it sounds like more of a revelation."

11 cups, Rook. Last night. ELEVEN. WE NEVER SLEEP AGAIN. STAY SUBDUED. STAY AWAKE. ALL THE SHITS.

"Our barista bought samples of all beans available in Treviso. Had me try them to find Caterina's favorite. I was fourteen. Didn't sleep for five days."

They're lucky she chose tin mugs. Her jaw drops, and so does her grip on the mug, and it falls loudly onto the tiles.

"One: you have a barista at home?!"

"Not anymore. Last I was there, I made my own coffee. The other staff don't get it right."

"The other staff?"

Lucanis shrugs, as he takes the kettle with an oven cloth and pours the hot water over the filterrag in slow, deliberate circles. The few memories he has of his parents, they waited on him hand and foot. After they were killed, and he went to live with Caterina, her staff.

"I'm sure your house has staff."

"Viago's the Talon, Lucanis. The Fledglings are his staff."

True point, he thinks. Viago has a tighter grip, more control over his underlings. So they don't get ideas. The reason he's constantly peddling with orphanages and whorehouses is that the moment a Fledgling even breathes wrong in his presence, they disappear. Myself is my true king, and he makes sure everyone knows it like the know the sun also rises.

"Two," she continues, either oblivious to secondary string of thought that always seems to run in the background no matter what or electing to ignore it. She has picked up the fallen mug and wipes it off yet again. "You drank every sample in one night?"

"The best beans at the time were from the Montilyet vineyard, surprisingly, crushed in a coarse herb mortar, run through alchemy water that's just about to boil. Press it onto this tiny metal sieve and pour the water as fast as you can without getting the grounds in your cup." During his youth, he drank that prep so often he can no longer think of it without recoiling. "I got so much done that week. And have no recollection of any of it."

She laughs. Holds both mugs as Lucanis transfers the ready coffee into their mugs. She already put creamer and a sugarstick into one of them.

"Sounds like you to remember the coffee and nothing else." The sugarstick serves as a spoon as she mixes creamer, coffee and the sugar falling off of it. "What's in this one?"

"If you believe me, the beans in Neve's pellet coffee before they abuse them beyond recognition. It's supposed to have a chocolate aftertaste."

She raises her eyebrows at him, lifting the cup to her lips.

"You think you can save that hogwash?" The expression on her face tells him there's no saving this. "Maybe the beans just suck."

"What can I say?" He takes a sip. Oh, dear. "If anyone can, it's me."

"Did Caterina like any of the samples you tried?"

"Of course not. She prefers tea over coffee. It was a lost cause."

Rook laughs so hard and sudden she inhales her swill. Spite laughs at the way it drips out of her nose.

🪶

i know bioware fixed that bug but idc if i saw it happen and they patched it its a dream now i dont make the rules

i still don't know how coffee works but I love some tevinter slander lmao

I'm trying to break out of the chronologic thing I had going with solavellan and just write what I feel like writing and its really cathartic ngl [also the way I finished my thesis and went straight back to creative writing for the first time in like FIVE YEARS lmao]

@lanafofana if you want me to tag u in ONLY what we talked about you gotta let me know lmao

@vespaer77 i forgot to tag u in my rookanis stuff and tbf I don't know if you WANT to be tagged in that but here u go haha

[~rina]

[fromstormsend]

Gendry’s line as a character development;

“Why should I wager my feet for the chance to sweat in Winterfell in place of Harrenhal? You know old Ben Blackthumb? He came here as a boy. Smithed for Lady Whent and her father before her and his father before him, and even for Lord Lothston who held Harrenhal before the Whents. Now he smiths for Lord Tywin, and you know what he says? A sword’s a sword, a helm’s a helm, and if you reach in the fire you get burned, no matter who you’re serving. Lucan’s a fair enough master. I’ll stay here.” -ACOK Arya IX

Arya watched Gendry screw up his stupid face, thinking. "At the hollow hill, what you said about being King Robert's men, and brothers, I liked that. I liked that you gave the Hound a trial. Lord Bolton just hanged folk or took off their heads, and Lord Tywin and Ser Amory were the same. I'd sooner smith for you." -ASOS Arya VII

***

BONUS: “You’re somebody.”

Some insists Gendry is just a smith(which he also insists lol) and his only function was just show lowborns and he is not important anymore on the books. I totally disagree with them. Martin try to show something with Gendry’s choices to us. The last time we saw him he was with Lady Stoneheart who also killed anyone without any questioning. So he came from “i can serve anyone if they give me food and a shelter” to “no i should chose to serve the right one”. But now “the right” one part is kind of dubious according to Gendry who knighted by Lord Beric. But for Gendry who serve Lady Stoneheart, it’s not. Because he is serving mother of Arya that he left once and he protects children from harm. I think he still have time to find himself and decide what he really wants to do in rest of his life. It means he is not done in the books. And Gendry is one of the few characters who know himself what can he do or not. But the fact is he is really more than he thought and i can’t wait to see when he learns this.

[spaceman-earthgirl]

“Agatha and Rio arrived at school together this morning,” Jen says by way of greeting, dropping her books on the table and joining Alice and Lilia.

Alice looks up, half intrigued, but Lilia keeps her head down, ignoring Jen except for a little wave in greeting.

It’s before school, and the staff room is mostly empty, giving them plenty of space to gossip before the school day starts. Though not a lot of time, the bell for first period is about to ring so they better make this quick.

“When you say ‘arrived together’ do you mean they got out of the same car, or just walked into the building together?" Alice asks.

Jen deflates a little. “I saw them walk into the building together.”

“Then that proves nothing,” Alice says, returning to her book too.

It’s been a hot topic of discussion over the last few months, what’s going on between the two of them, ever since Alice had seen them in the hallway together, Agatha laughing at something Rio said. 

The way Alice tells it, Rio even touched Agatha’s arm, but that detail was added after a few retellings so Jen isn’t so sure about that part.

Either way, ever since they noticed, they can’t stop speculating, because even just the few times Jen has seen them interact since, there’s definitely been a vibe.

Lilia has repeated on multiple occasions that she thinks they’re together, but they need proof.

And Jen is determined to find it.

---

“Someone sent Agatha flowers.”

Jen grins, Alice always gets the good gossip.

“Who are they from?” Jen asks. There’s a pile of homework she needs to grade before her next class but this is more important.

“I’m not sure, I was in the main office when they got delivered. I managed to sneak a look at the card but all it had on it was a little green heart.”

Jen thinks about this for a minute. “A secret admirer perhaps? Maybe even one who teaches biology a few doors down.”

“There’s no way to prove that,” Alice says, but she still looks on board with this information.

“What if we just ask Agatha?” Jen asks, keeping a straight face for as long as she can before she bursts out laughing, Alice, and even Lilia joining in.

“It’d be your funeral,” Alice says.

And Jen knows it would be.

Agatha is snarky and no bullshit and you always want her on your side in an argument. There’s no way she’s risking Agatha’s bad side.

When she’d first met Agatha, she’d wondered why someone like her would even want to be a teacher, and then she’d actually seen her with her students and she’d changed her mind. Agatha might be scary, but she has a way with kids that Jen didn’t expect.

Maybe it’s the no bullshit thing that kids respect, but whatever it is, the kids love Agatha and she seems to love them too.

But there is still no way she’d ever ask Agatha about her personal life. From what Jen can gather from their limited interactions is that Agatha is a private person, and she’s not going to question that.

She really hopes Agatha never finds out that their favourite way to spend their lunch break is gossip about her and the chemistry she clearly has with Rio.

read the rest on ao3 or under the cut

---

“I just saw Agatha and Rio having lunch together in Agatha’s classroom.”

They really don’t greet each other normally anymore, they just spill gossip. She hopes the other teachers don’t overhear them. Or if they do, they have gossip to contribute.

“I knew it,” Jen says, like that’s the proof they needed when in fact it proves nothing except the fact that they’re friends.

Which they knew already, so that’s not news. They've seen them together enough to know that they're friends, which only adds fuel to their speculation because Agatha doesn't have any other friends at school besides Rio.

“And they were sharing a sandwich,” Alice adds.

Ok, that might be something. 

“’Lady and the tramp’ style?” Jen asks, because that’s the first thought that pops into her mind when Alice says it and she also knows Alice will hate her question.

As expected, she gets a withering gaze in return. “No not ‘lady and the tramp’ style, they were sharing a sandwich like normal people do, Rio handed Agatha half of her sandwich, but that’s all I glimpsed as I walked by.”

“I mean, that’s kind of something I guess?” Jen says. “Lilia, back me up?”

Lilia barely looks up from the book she’s buried in. “You already know my opinion on the matter, but that alone proves nothing.”

“I’m adding that to the list of signs they’re dating,” Jen decides after some thought. It doesn’t really prove anything either way, but she’s going to figure it out.

---

“Guess who is chaperoning the school lock in tonight together?” Jen asks. She feels like this is good information.

“I’m guessing Agatha and Rio?” Alice answers, taking a carrot stick from the container Jen offers. 

“As well as about 10 other teachers,” Lilia pipes in, ruining the fun.

Lilia is still firmly in the camp of “they’re definitely together, and why bother gossiping about someone else’s personal life?” but even she sometimes gets involved. She’d been the one that noticed Rio wearing a shirt she swears up and down she’d seen Agatha wear before.

But maybe they just shop at the same place, so that proved nothing either.

“Are either of you two chaperoning?” Jen asks. When they were taking volunteers, she’d said no. She couldn’t think of anything worse than being locked in the gym overnight with a bunch of kids. 

Agatha doesn’t usually volunteer for school activities either, which is why this is a little suspicious.

“No,” Alice says as Lilia shakes her head.

Damn, she wishes she’d volunteered now, they might’ve gotten some good intel.

On Monday, they get no information from any of the other teachers because she’s pretty sure no one else is as invested as they are so that’s a bust.

---

Jen is halfway through her sandwich when Agatha walks into the staff room. She watches in surprise as Agatha crosses the room, takes a seat at the only empty table and pulls out her lunch.

“Do you think they’ve had a fight?” Alice asks, as quietly as she can. There’s no need to ask who she’s talking about, they all know.

They’re all fairly certain that Agatha and Rio spend every lunch break together, so why not today?

The logical answer is that she’s busy so Agatha is eating alone but gossip and speculation isn’t logical.

A couple minutes later, Rio walks in and the imaginative side of Jen’s brain runs away with her, to the point that by the time Rio has crossed the room, Jen is expecting a fight because in her mind they’ve broken up, but all Rio does is sit down next to Agatha and pull out her own food.

Jen deflates a little. Not that she’d wanted a fight, but it at least meant they might get some drama.

That doesn’t stop her from watching them though. As subtly as she can, of course. She can see Alice and Lilia doing the same, all three looking for clues to whether something is going on between them or not.

But it’s about as boring as watching anyone else each lunch. All they’re doing is talking and eating and Jen is just starting to wonder if maybe they’re reading too much into things when it happens.

Jen can’t see from where she’s sitting what Agatha is eating, but whatever it is, it must be messy enough for Agatha to get something on her face. Rio reaches out and wipes her thumb across Agatha’s lips, removing whatever food was there, before bringing the thumb to her own mouth to lick it clean.

Alice immediately clutches Jen’s arm, clearly just having seen it too.

They (again, subtly) watch in silence until Agatha and Rio get up and leave not long later, nothing else eventful happening after the incidentTM.

“Did you see that?” Alice asks as soon as Agatha and Rio are gone.

“That is not 'just friends’ behaviour,” Jen says, still in shock at what they’d witnessed. Maybe there was something to this after all.

“I mean-“ Alice starts, like she’s about to justify it.

“No. Do you ever do that with your friends?”

“No,” Alice says, her cheeks going red.

“Exactly. So we’re adding this to the list of evidence that they’re dating.” Not that that list is very long, but if they’re not dating, then they’re clearly into each other, evidenced not just by what Rio had done, but by the fact that Agatha hadn’t punched her afterwards.

---

It’s early, earlier than she’d usually arrive at school, but they have a school spirit event today so they’d all arrived early to set up their classrooms.

But before that, Jen needs coffee.

There are a few other teachers on campus, all trying to get an early start on the day, so she’s not surprised when they walk into the staff room and find they’re not alone.

What she very much is surprised by, however, is that the two people in the room are Agatha and Rio.

And they’re kissing.

It’s a fairly chaste kiss, as far kisses go, which is probably good considering they’re at school. But Agatha is pressed close to Rio, Rio crowded against the counter.

At least their hands are in appropriate places.

The noise of the door closing must alert them to the fact that they’re not alone as they break the kiss and turn towards the noise.

“Morning,” Rio smiles, giving a small wave. She makes no move to push Agatha away though and Agatha doesn’t move either. Agatha does give a flippant wave in their direction which Jen is assuming is also a hello.

Clearly, they don’t care that they’ve been caught because Rio turns back to Agatha, saying something too quietly for them to hear but whatever it is, Agatha laughs.

Jen will blame the lack of coffee and the fact that they’ve been speculating about this for months for her next words.

“You two are together?” Jen asks before she can stop herself. There definitely was a more tactful way to ask that but it’s too late.

“I told you,” Lilia says, as Agatha and Rio turn back to them, finally stepping apart. Lilia pays everyone no mind as she walks across the room and starts making herself a coffee.

Jen ignores her, too focused on the two women on the other side of the room.

Agatha looks mad now, which is a little scary, but Rio looks amused.

“Are you serious?” Agatha asks, voice gruff, and Jen is starting to have regrets. But they’re in this now, and there’s only one way to find out the truth.

“We just…” Jen looks to Alice for support, but she holds her hands up in a way that says ‘don’t make me a part of this’. 

Traitor.

“We’d just noticed you two spending a lot of time together and you obviously have chemistry so we couldn’t help wondering if something was going on.”

Rio looks even more amused, and there’s a slight quirk to Agatha’s lips too which means she’s at least not contemplating killing her right now.

“You know nothing exciting ever happens in Westview,” Jen adds, like it justifies their actions. “It was just idle gossip.”

“Well, Rio starts. “You know, I saw Agatha and I just couldn’t stay away. I’ve been trying to get her to go on a date with me all year, it was those sexy reading glasses that-

Agatha gives Rio a slight shove, pushing her away and cutting her off. Agatha still doesn’t look mad at least. “We’re married,” Agatha says with a roll of her eyes, but the look is directed at Rio.

“See, I just couldn’t stay away,” Rio grins, gesturing to Agatha. “All she did was ask me one little question and now I’m hers fore-“

“Stop,” Agatha cuts in, giving Rio another playful shove but she’s looking at Rio with such affection that no one could deny them being in love. “Or else you’re walking home.”

Rio holds her hands up in surrender with a grin.

“You’re married?” Jen finally asks, incredulous. She almost feels like she’s intruding on something.

How on earth did they miss that?

“We’ve been married for eight years,” Agatha supplies, looking a little annoyed again. It’s very clear that the annoyance is directed at them, and not Rio. “It’s not a secret, everyone knows.”

Jen’s mouth drops open. 

“Or we thought everyone did.” Rio says, taking Agatha’s hand, threading their fingers together. “We have a kid too, if that helps,”

Jen feels each new piece of information like a physical blow. She needs to lie down, this is too much this early in the morning.

They clearly missed a lot.

“Come on,” Rio says, giving Agatha’s hand a tug. “Let’s leave these guys to whatever it is they’ve got going on here.”

“Sorry,” Jen says, having the decency to look sheepish as Agatha and Rio walk past them.

Even more so when Agatha stops and turns to them. 

“Maybe next time, don’t gossip about people behind their backs. If you have a question, just ask.”

“You heard the lady,” Rio winks, tugging on Agatha’s hand once more and then they’re alone again.

Jen and Alice wait a few short moments, making sure Agatha and Rio are out of earshot before they turn to each other.

“Oh my God,” Jen says, at the same time Alice says “I thought Agatha might hit you there for a moment.”

“I told you so,” Lilia says, carefully setting down three cups of coffee on their usual table.

She’s a lifesaver.

“I’m sorry, you did,” Jen says, gratefully accepting the mug. “Next time, I’ll believe you.”

“I can’t believe we missed it, all this time,” Alice says, looking equally grateful for her drink.

“Technically we missed nothing, we thought something might be going on and we were right.”

Jen is sticking by the fact that they got this one right.

“Yeah,” Alice says. “But married for eight years is a little different than wondering if two people are dating.”

Jen waves her off. “Details. But don’t think I will forget that you basically threw me under the bus there.”

Alice is the one who looks sheepish now. “Sorry, but she’s scary.”

Jen won’t deny that. “So, who’s going to be our next source of gossip? We’re going to need something new to talk about.”

Alice rolls her eyes but doesn’t protest, which is either because she’s too tired this early, or because she wants the gossip too.

Probably both.

“What about your love life?” Jen teases, earning a glare from Alice that she knew was coming. So, what? It’s easy to wind her up.

“Don’t you dare,” Alice warns.

“Fine,” Jen laughs. She’s sure they’ll find something else to gossip about, at least for now they’ve solved the Agatha and Rio mystery. 

Which wasn’t really a mystery after all, because it was common knowledge.

Apparently they were just the last to find out.

[rypnami]

summoning you

characters: leander prewett x house neutral gn!mc word count: 1991 warnings: none! summary: after losing one too many rounds of summoner's court to them, leander becomes suspicious of MC's alleged skill at the game. a/n: for @selenedarling, i LOVED your prompt! i hope you like! this wasn't beta-read but its fine we ball!! ao3 link

“Oh, not again.” MC stomps their foot in frustration as their blue ball slowly rolls off the Summoner’s Court board and thuds into the grass below. Only one of theirs remains on the board, directly in the centre of the 20 point mark. On the other hand, the three red balls are scattered across the board- two on 20, one on 30.

“Aha! I win! I win! Take that!” Leander bounces up and down, throwing his hands in the air. He grins over at MC. “Er, sorry. You, uh, played well, too.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, cheeks going a bit pink. 

If it were anyone else, MC might have cursed them into next week, but they can’t bring themself to be very annoyed at Leander. To be quite honest, he’s cute when he’s excited, and he doesn’t get much more excited than when he wins at Summoner’s Court. “Ah, don’t worry. I’ll beat your ass next time, just you wait.”

Leander snickers. “You always say that, and you always lose. Er. Sorry. Again.”

“We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?” MC flicks their wand, resetting the board. “Ready for another round?”

“Um, can’t. Have Herbology soon. It’s really good weather today, would be a shame not to take advantage of it for the plants.” He runs his fingers through his hair, mussing it a bit. 

The sun is shining, and there’s hardly a cloud in the sky. Leander is right, it’s perfect weather for tending outdoors, especially with winter only a couple months away. Now is as good a time as any to give the plants some last days of sunshine. Suddenly, MC finds themself regretting having opted out of Herbology this year- it seems like Summoner’s Court is the only time they get to be around Leander anymore, and it’s quite frankly not enough. Letting him win over and over is all well and good, but they’d like to do something with him that doesn’t involve being dishonest, even if it’s only a white lie.

“Sounds like someone is afraid of a challenge,” they tease. 

“Wh-what? No. Well.” He blushes again, looking away. Merlin, where does he get off being so adorable? MC will never understand it. “Perhaps, but I really do have class.”

“Which you’re going to be late for if you don’t hurry up.” Samantha Dale says loudly from beside the game board.

The pair of them jump. “Bloody hell, where did you come from?” Leander gasps, clutching at his chest.

Samantha rolls her eyes. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past several minutes, actually. Nice to know you were paying attention.” 

“Ah, who can blame us? We were in the midst of a gripping competition.” 

“I'm sure. You.” Samantha points at Leander. “Come. I will not be late because of you!”

MC frowns. Hmph. What’s she so eager about anyway? “Why don’t you just go ahead?” 

Samantha stares at them. “Because whenever I go it alone, Violet McDowel ends up sitting next to me, and I would rather limit how long I’m around her, frankly. Prewett is a step up, I suppose.”

“Gee, thanks,” Leander mutters, hopping down from the wooden platform. “I feel so loved." He spares MC a last glance, a subtle flush creeping up his neck. “Er. See you later?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

They are not jealous as they watch Leander walk back to the castle with Samantha. It’s perfectly normal and platonic to feel itchy and mildly ill watching your good friend spend time with someone else. Not at all indicative at all of any underlying feelings that MC has definitely not been suppressing since the better half of last year. Nope, just normal everyday things to feel. Definitely. Not like they have a claim on him anyway. He’s perfectly free to hang around whoever he wants, even if it makes MC want to blow up a goblin encampment, just to feel something else. 

⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

“MC really is something,” Leander says conversationally. “Great at everything. Except for Summoner’s Court.”

Samantha gives him a strange look. “Yeah… funny, isn’t it?”

“Is it?”

“Well, yes.” They both take their seats next to each other at their potting stations. “You really don’t find it strange that they practically excel in all their classes, they won every Crossed Wands duel for the second year in a row, and also was champion of Summoner’s Court last year? They beat Professor Ronen at his own game, literally.” 

Leander has gone a deep shade of red, so he busies himself poking at the leaves of his Mallowsweet plant in a pitiful attempt to distract himself. “That doesn’t-”

“They stopped a rebellion, destroyed a criminal empire in Hogsmeade, and saved the whole school from a goblin invasion, but they can’t beat you, of all people, at Summoner’s Court?”

“Hey!”

“Just saying,” Samantha shrugs. “It’s all a bit odd.”

As much as he’d like to argue, he knows Samantha has a point. It is odd. MC has never lost at anything else, ever, to the point it’s almost supernatural. From the day they first came to Hogwarts, surviving a dragon attack and then defeating a troll in the village circle, they’ve never been anything but extraordinary. How would they keep losing to him? He’s never been very good at anything at all, especially compared to MC. There’s a voice in the back of his head, almost always whispering that he’s not good enough.

“Oh, Merlin,” He groans, putting his face in his hands as the pieces fall together. “It’s pity. They’re letting me win out of pity because I’m terrible. For the love of-” Leander has never been so embarrassed in his life. It all adds up though, doesn’t it? How could MC ever fail, if not on purpose? Is he really so pathetic? How in the world hadn’t he noticed before someone else pointed it out? His older sister always does tease him for not being the most observant, and he always thought it was just that- teasing. Unfortunately for him, it seems like she couldn’t have been more correct. 

“That might not be it,” Samantha says, gently patting his shoulder and looking mildly distressed. “I- perhaps they really aren’t very good! Probably, er, got rusty over the summer holiday, right?”

It’s appreciated, but her words do little to help. They both know damn well MC is throwing the games on purpose, but the question for him now is why? Why in Merlin’s name would they want to lose to him? 

He’s determined to find out. Grabbing his Mallowsweet in its hand-painted terracotta pot,he gets out of his seat with it. “I’m going to take Mortimer outside for some proper sun.”

“I believe you,” she says flatly.

Leander sticks his tongue out at her as he struts out of the Greenhouses with the plant. He might not be good at Summoner’s Court, but he does know plants, and he knows how much Mortimer likes to feel real sun on his leaves. Would MC think it’s weird that he gives his plants names and personalities? Is it weird? Why does he even care? 

“I’ll get to the bottom of it,” he mutters to the plant. “One way or another.”

He shoves open the castle doors, and spots MC still loitering by the Summoner’s Court board. There’s no other challengers, yet there they are, sat on the edge of the platform and kicking their feet. The way the sun shines down on them, making their eyes sparkle just so… it feels like a whole swarm of lacewing flies have taken flight in his belly. Glad he’s got Mortimer for emotional support (although taking a moment to cringe that he thinks of a plant as support), he walks over to them quickly, before he loses his nerve. 

“Well, look who it is,” MC says with an easy smile, which does not help the flip-flopping of his stomach. “I thought you had Herbology.”

“I did. Er, I do.” Leander clears his throat. “Plants prefer, erm, real sunlight though, and Mortimer here really likes when the weather is so nice, so…” 

MC tilts their head. “You name your plants? That’s sweet.”

“Y-yes. Er, that’s not, erm, the only reason I came back out, though. Um.” Just spit it out, you idiot! “Are you- have you…” He squeezes the pot to his chest, suddenly feeling foolish. Merlin, but he must look like an idiot, holding a plant and hardly able to get a real word out. “Have you been letting me win? At Summoner’s Court, I mean?”

“Uh.” MC’s face seems to go a bit pale. “Um. Would you be particularly upset if I have been?”

“I…” Leander sits next to them, shifting the pot so it rests in his lap. “Not especially. I’d just like to know… why?”

They shrug. “You always seem so happy when you win, you know? Thought I might let you have a few victories.”

“But so many times in a row? You haven’t won a single round in weeks!” 

A silence stretches between them, slightly awkward. “I…” They chew their lip and don’t meet his eyes, which is wholly unlike them. “I dunno, I thought if you kept losing, you wouldn’t want to play anymore.” To avoid looking at Leander, they stare at his plant instead, picking off some of the withered leaves. “I miss spending time with you, is all. We hardly have any classes together anymore, and with Crossed Wands already over for the year, it feels like this is the only place we can really be around each other.”

What what what what what what what WHAT.

“W-we do have some classes together…”

“It’s not the same, though.” They stop fiddling with Mortimer and glance up at him. 

Leander forgets how to form words for a moment. “I- I suppose not.” 

“I…” MC takes a deep, steadying breath. “I really like you, and being around you, and you’re not like anyone else I know, and I just… wasn’t sure how to ask you to… spend time together. More time together.”

“Could’ve just said that,” Leander says with a light chuckle, although it feels like his chest is constricting. They like him? And being near him? How on earth is that possible? “But I do appreciate winning.”

“Oh, believe me, I know.” They elbow him, and he almost drops his plant. “Take that, I win every time, you lose!” They attempt to mimic his voice. Actually, it’s not a bad impression. 

“I really like being around you, too.” 

Now MC is blushing as well, something Leander never expected to see in all his life. Honestly, it suits them. “So, then… would you maybe want to go to the Three Broomsticks tonight? Like… as a date?”

He wants to jump up and down and say yes yes yes a million times yes absolutely as if you even have to ask, but…

“I would really love to, but I can’t tonight, I have to take care of Percy. But you’re welcome to join me in the Greenhouses… as a date. It could be fun!” A first date involving plants sounds like a grand time to Leander.

“Percy?”

“He’s a moonflower. They only bloom at night, but they’re good for potions and such, so… only if you want!” The burst of confidence has already faded, and the tiny voice is back, telling him that it’s just more pity, that MC doesn’t really want to be with him, of all people, and that his idea for a date is stupid. He tells it to shut up.

“I’d be more than happy to. A greenhouse date sounds lovely.” MC gives him that easy smile again, making his knees a bit weak. How are they so amazing? “You know, I always thought of the moon as a woman. Not a man called Percy.”

“Well, yeah, but Percy isn’t the moon, he’s a moonflower, there’s a difference.” 

“Oh, shush, you.”

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 27: ~

No Hard Feelings:

And, here we are, the final chapter for season 1. Yes. You read that right. There will be a season 2, but it won't begin until after Christmas. Until then, I have another announcement and I'll be focusing on my own project as well.

I also want to thank everyone who's been following this story, and hopefully will continue to do so going forward.

The glow from the fire pit greeted Suze and Rennick. Caz waved them over as Trots and Simon began to serve everyone. Suze headed for her husband and took her spot on the steps. Rennick awkwardly sat between Gibbo and Roy, unable to look them in the eye. He wanted to be with Suze. In just ten minutes, she had become a source of comfort for him. Letting out all his feelings and washing away his 'King' façade, which was both a blessing and a curse, because now he was just Davey Rennick. But, who was Davey Rennick?

Gibbo handed him a bowl of casserole, which he took with a quiet 'thank you.' He could feel everyone's eyes on him. Soon, they all took their seats around the firepit. Small chatter filled the air. Rennick stared at his food. He didn't have the appetite. One last thing weighed on his mind. Now, it was his turn to be brave.

'I know,' everyone stopped and turned. They saw the anxiety in Rennick's eyes. Too late to go back now. 'I've been more than a shit manager to all of you. And, what I did has caused us all to be here. Because of me, you lot,' referring to the infected. 'Will never be the same again, and I can't fix that. You all had to deal with who I was for so long, and, looking back, I'm surprised you didn't throw me overboard.' An empty joke no one laughed at, but Rennick made another empty chuckle. It was his way of finding strength. 'And I'm sorry you had to deal with who I was for so long. I just...' A sigh. 'I dunno. Turned into something you all had to see.' He paused to catch his breath. 'I don't want to be that man anymore, but I don't know where to start. And-'

'And we want to apologise.'

Rennick flinched when he felt someone touch the top of his head. It was Gibbo. That surprised Rennick. He thought Gibbo would never speak to him again. The last time he did, he split his cheek and brow open.

'...F-For what?'

'For not supporting you. You got us here, and we never thanked you for it.'

'No. You don't need to-'

'We're also sorry for not noticing how you've been feeling,' Brodie interrupted. 'We're in this together, and we should have seen what you're going through.'

Rennick was stunned. He glanced to Gibbo, then to everyone else. He didn't understand. He saw their kind eyes, causing his to widen. No one's looked at him like that in a long time. He didn't know what to say.

'Ah, King Rennick,' Roy hummed, breaking the silence. 'Well, if he's officially gone, then...' He moved to grab a beer, opening and handing it to Rennick. 'I'm happy to finally meet you.'

He accepted with a small yet genuine smile. 'Let's hope this one isn't a prick, eh?' They tapped the bottom of their bottles together before taking a swig. Still weaker than piss. The robin flew and perched on Rennick's arm, softening his eyes. Everyone noticed, and seeing their manager smile, whilst different, was nice to see.

'Okay then, Davey, tell us a bit about yourself?' Trots smirked.

'What?'

'Oh God,' Caz snickered under his breath.

'We do it with anyone who joins the friend group.'

It took Rennick a moment to realise what they were saying, and he just laughed. Yet again, it was different but nice to see.

'So, we know you like to laugh,' Trots joked. 'Good to know.'

'Oh, and what about you, Campbell?'

'He's trained in ballroom dancing,' Simon answered without hesitation, causing Trots to snap his head to his lover and nudge him in the arm. Everyone except O'Connor, Mary, Gibbo, and Irene was shocked. They knew he was into classical music from the 40s, but he never told anyone that he swayed around on the dance floor.

'And you never told us,' O'Connor teased, causing Trots' face to go red, who now realised he's been played at his own game.

'So, you do have a personality outside of a Union,' Gibbo continued.

'Come on,' Addair encouraged, putting on a terrible Scottish Accent. 'Do a little jig.' For once, everyone agreed with him.

'Okay, next!' Trots yelled a little too loudly, making Simon laugh, earning another small nudge. 'You're on the naughty list,' he whispered.

'Oh, you tease,' Simon whispered back, before sneaking in a small kiss on the cheek.

'Well, actually...' Raffs got to his feet and went inside the house. Rennick didn't expect anything and just thought the young lad was going to get more drinks. Until he returned with a dart board in his hands. 'We'd like to know if you can play?'

For some reason, that got Rennick to laugh again. He didn't know where it came from. Was it nerves? Maybe. But, the man was happy, and his smile grew wider.'Got any darts?'

The crew and their families had learned three things about Davey Rennick.

One; He loved to laugh. Sometimes, it fell into a mischievous giggle, which was rather infectious.

Two: He adored the bird. A tendril was always stroking the top of the robin's head, and she didn't seem to mind. Roy, however, had a feeling he was an animal lover. The food he always gave him would quickly vanish with a clean plate, knife and fork, and seagulls loved to perch around his office.

Three: He was really good at darts, beating Brodie's score with flying colours, causing everyone to cheer and hug him. Something else for Rennick to be surprised by, freezing up his body and just allowing it to happen. His mind wandered back to the final night on the rig, when Caz confessed what he did to Billy. Although he wasn't there, he completely understood Caz's feelings and the high spirits everyone felt. It then flashed to when Brodie won the darts. Again, he understood the feeling. How wonderful it was. No wonder he was jealous. Thankfully, it wasn't a mosh pit, but he, too, had to hold back his tears again.

'Alright, get off. I need another beer.' That wasn't going to be so easy. Muir, just like he did with Brodie and Caz, lifted the man up above his head as if he was holding a cat under their arms. Rennick yelped in surprise before begging to be put down. Wish granted. He moved away from his crewmates, who were now setting the dart board up for another round, because Brodie wasn't losing his title after working so hard to get it.

With a content sigh, Rennick sat near to the firepit and watched from afar. The robin landed on his nose. A beer came into his peripheral vision. He turned. It was Caz. Rennick accepted whilst the leccy pulled reposition a chair and sat beside him.

'Thanks.'

'Nae bother.' They tapped the bottles together and took a swig. 'I see Suze got through to you.'

'Aye. You chose her well.'

'Nah. She chose me, and I nearly fucked it up.' Caz felt Rennick wrap a tendril around his shoulder for support. 'But, I think we're back on track now.' He then noticed the robin still resting. 'What's her name?'

'Still debating on that.' They watched the bird fly and nestle on the crown of his head. 'But...' Rennick didn't have any personal memories of her, but the name was fitting. 'I like the name Ruby.'

'Ruby it is then.' Another tap of their beer bottles. 'See, Rennick?'

'What?'

'Does this mean we're okay, like? No hard feelings?'

Rennick was quiet for a moment. He looked at Caz. Deep down, he expected some feelings to bubble to the surface. The hatred and anger he felt when he read the letter. That feeling of betrayal from someone he did respect. His blood boiling. How he wanted to give the leccy the same treatment he gave Billy during their 'meeting.' How he wanted to crush every bone in his body when he chased him throughout Administration. But, none of that happened. Not even the pain from transforming entered his mind. The man was content. Finally at peace. The pair turned back to watch the darts game.

'Aye. No hard feelings.'

[guiltycorp]

Damn i really want to know tf happened in the writing room of arcane s2. Some of the downgrades were inevitable due to the show's corporate limitations (not being able to progress the class war story in a meaningful way, having to tie things back to league of legends in terms of making playable characters more appealing to well, play... rip Mel and Viktor in particular), sure. But i still feel like it's even worse than that? There are so many bad decisions that i couldn't even start listing them all... the characters, plot, pacing, themes, it's just such a mess? Even the dialogue writing, it feels much more mm Marvel at its worst i suppose. What i am most bothered by is probably just the straight up harmful messaging so um... Cycles of violence and abuse can be broken by individual decisions to become a better person! Got nothing to do with systemic oppression, living conditions, mental health issues, you can just conveniently ignore aaall the social context, live laugh love and then things get better automatically yep, oppressors famously stop oppressing you when you show them that you're harmless and won't put up a fight anymore. Literally three out of three suicidal characters dying to redeem themselves? Not even in a tragic/cathartic way but in a bittersweet 'they finally atoned for their mistakes' way? Groundbreaking lmao. Romantic relationship between Vi and Caitlyn including no communication about their biggest fight, just conveniently skipping to sex and getting back together - would have loved that if it was framed as the unhealthy fucked up thing that it is, skipping over Vi's hurt and her background to once again become a cop, her girlfriend's direct underling at that (!) due to her not having any other support systems... But nope that was our cute lesbian romance wrapped up, a good thing all around, not concerning at all. Jayce telling Viktor that what he 'always admired about him' was his disability and his deadly disease (??? from a character who spent the whole s1 and first act of s2 desperately trying to help Viktor find a cure? sure) and that those imperfections don't need fixing, just wtf truly. Magic bullshit was also weird, some implications of 'natural magic is ok, but achieving that power through other means corrupts you into a crazy robot bitch or just wilts your trees i guess', but tbh it was written in such a weird and inconsistent way that we can skip this one... Yeah actually a lot of things were just such a mess that I feel silly pointing to specific moments or lines I didn't like, I mean duh, it barely makes sense as a story at all... I am happy we have s1 which comparatively was a masterpiece, and i also really enjoyed s2 act1, i truly believed it would lead somewhere good at the time, my mind still kind of cuts off the story at that point when i think about it, that WAS the open ending of the show to me (is it possible that there were rewrites? targeting act 2 and 3? idk, wishful thinking perhaps). Despite my extremely negative feelings about this season's conclusion i remain glad that so many people appreciate the show regardless, it is clear that there was STILL a lot of love in the process of its creation (although i'd argue that even some of the visual aspects of the show suffered in quality, once again i have to wonder about behind the scenes mood of it all) and i get very upset when i see creatives online despairing over reception of their projects even when i'm absolutely in the disgruntled crowd hahaha... ...however yeah, this wasn't great In a world that increasingly grows more and more right-wing politically... we really needed something different i think.

[saioratral]

so there's this professor... - 01 Fractured Equations masterlist

“do you even know yourself, or are you just another child moulded by the world around us?”

your small eyes search for the voice, a distant echo floating in the cold air. you shuffle closer, yearning for the warmth of the fading memory, but the chilly air of britain’s streets sink into your bones. here, survival isn’t merely a skill; it’s a daily battle that leaves you feeling small and utterly alone like a speck of dust

“promise me you won’t fall into the mould”

you look up, your heart aching at the sight of her sad smile painted on like a fragile mask of a porcelain doll, cracking at the edges. behind it lies grief far too vast for a seven-year-old to fathom.

how could you ever comprehend the weight of her sorrow? 

your tiny hands reach out, desperate for comfort, but all you grasp is emptiness—the coldness of fingers that once cradled you close, now forever still. cold hands fall on your face as you stare in horror

no word slips from your lips, not even a fragile whisper, just a silent plea from your heart. another reminder that love can vanish, leaving only absence in your already empty void. you want to scream, to shake her from her slumber.

but instead, you sit there. hope became a cruel joke, and the warmth of her embrace is a ghost that taunts you. tears prick as you try your hardest to carve her smile into your memory. in that moment, you realise 

you’re not just searching for her; you’re searching for yourself in the ruins of her despair. 

“mother..?”

…

…

…

“hold on- let me say goodbye to my mother before we head off”

you snap back to the present, watching your best friend dash into his mother’s store. you see her happy smile as she leans down, allowing him to plant a small kiss on her cheek before he turns away. you’ve always waited for him before heading to class. it’s a cherished tradition: you walk to his house in the morning, and he walks you back after class

“flowers? my mom had extras,” alvin offers, pushing a small bouquet of neatly arranged lavender roses into your hands.

“you always give me the same kind,” you say, bringing it closer

“blame my mom for growing too many. come on! we’re going to be late!” he insists, pulling you along, not wanting to elaborate 

“i miss my mother whenever i see yours,” you mutter softly, the words slipping out before you can catch them

“i miss her too- even though i never met her. which is weird if you think about it,” alvin replies, glancing back at your sad expression

“i can’t remember her anymore”

you switch off your thoughts for a moment, letting him navigate through the bustling marketplace. you treasure these few minutes, allowing your imagination to roam. daydreaming is another beloved pastime, and alvin provides the perfect escape into your bubble of comfort.

with your bag slung over his shoulder, he takes your hand in his free hand, unwilling to lose you in the crowd.

“i heard we have a new maths professor,” alvin begins again, trying to lift the mood

“he’s supposed to be young and a genius,” he adds, looking at you for a reaction.

“maths professor? what about mrs aya?” you suddenly remember

“oh, her? thomas said she’s now in his astronomy class- lucky fella,” alvin groans

you laugh at his silliness. the only reason he liked mrs. aya was for the free snacks she gave out after class. her husband, a wealthy lord, often sent treats during her lessons, accompanied by a signature green note that wished her a great day ahead. 

“one day, i’m going to find out who her lover is so i can ask if he has a sister! i’ve never tasted such wonderful cookies,” alvin reminisces

“i guess you won’t have them anymore,” you pat his back as he sulks at the thought

and just like that, you both walk toward your university building. alvin greets everyone he sees on campus, a habit that leaves you questioning his motives

“no? i’m not friends with security, but everyone deserves a good smile!” he responds cheerily

“you’re not fully dressed without a smile.”

“did you just quote haz-”

“stop. robert and his gang.. again”

with that, alvin moves you behind him, muttering about “stupid rich boys” as they approach. you clutch the flowers closer, watching him roll his eyes dramatically. a sigh escapes his lips as he stands face-to-face with robert

“how do you always bump into us? it’s almost like you wait here,” alvin begins

“me? wait for some peasants? do you not know who i am? i am robert smith! the-”

“the second son of lord smith and the sole heir of the luxury leather manufacturers. we know. you’re a broken record at this point,” alvin interrupts, mimicking him.

“i see [last name] still comes here. have you not found a partner yet? you keep coming to ‘educate’ yourself, but what’s the point? no one would hire a low-class rat,” robert retorts, his friends snickering in the background.

“i told you to leave us alone, right? get lost” alvin insists, trying to shoo robert away, but he stands firm

“i could propose to spare your lowly life… i do need a new piece for my future collection,” robert continues to taunt

“ooh, how unfortunate! to me, [name] leroy sounds a lot better than [name] smith- which, by the way, sounds like a shoe polisher,” alvin shoots back as he walks away with you

“you don’t always have to defend me,” you mutter, glancing back at the fuming robert.

“grow a spine first stupid” alvin replies, looking at you with his usual smile.

with that, you both reach your first class. mathematics has its own muse, but you’ve never understood the supposed muse. while you’re not failing, you’re certainly not a star student either. you settle into your seats in the middle rows as alvin struggles to see the board from far

“glasses aren’t such a bad thing…” you comment as you pull out your notebook.

“true, but i don’t see why i should pay so much just to read the board,” alvin sighs, slouching back with his latest magazine.

“you’re going to pay attention to the board… with a magazine?” you question.

“shush, i don’t want to label you as a snitch,” he teases, flipping through the pages.

you let the conversation drop, not wanting to disturb his reading. your gaze drifts around the classroom, where a mix of new faces and familiar ones fills the room. it’s a new semester, and getting into the university was not easy, given the challenging entry requirements.

right on cue, your new professor walks in. his striking blonde hair catches your eye, making him stand out immediately. even his three-piece brown suit looked more expensive than your entire snack budget.

he stands before the board, chalk in hand, neatly writing his name with precision. even his handwriting exudes a sense of perfection. he appears rather young for a mathematics professor, surprising you further.

“i am william james moriarty,” he introduces himself as he turns to the students. “i’ll be teaching mathematics.”

"moriarty...?", alvin mumbles the name and shudders. you look at him strangely but he doesn't seem to care

“i hope you take this class seriously. i remember a quote by albert einstein,” william states.

“pure mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas.”

“what is he even saying?” alvin whispers, and you shrug in response

“now, some of you might be like mr. leroy here, confused as to why i brought this up,” william continues. “think of my words as motivation.”

“he knows my name??” alvin gasps, nearly shouting in your ear

“i am well aware of everyone’s name, mr. leroy. you’re not as quiet as you presume to be,” he replies, and the class erupts into laughter. 

you can’t help but join in as alvin buries his face in his arms, magazine forgotten on the floor. the rest of the class unfolds normally. your professor teaches, and the time slips away. class had ended before you even finished your notes. 

“should we get him a little gift?” you ask as you pack your bag

“a gift?? for him?? after he embarrassed me??” alvin exclaims, his bewildered expression making you laugh

“your hair is messy again silly”, you sighed 

a silence falls between you, and you reach out to push the bangs from his forehead. he flinches, feeling your hand before swatting it away to fix his hair himself muttering about how he could do it himself 

“okay, so what are you going to get him, your majesty?” alvin rolls his eyes

“a set of new chalk?” you suggest 

“chalk? why? the school provides him with a huge box!” he reasons.

“no, no! i mean the kind used by mathematicians- hagoromo chalk! isn’t it nice? i could even knit him a small napkin to clean the board later on!” you continued 

“i don’t see you putting this much effort into my gifts…”

© saioratral 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator. all images used are from pinterest

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