#wing Damn four letters off

[lethalleangue]

day 497

[callofdudes]

I made more because... Because! @aidenlydia again, this is their au but I'm eating it like fish sticks on a plate of mac 'n cheese. Getting this scene out of my head because I love them and I have nothing else to do waiting for dinner.

More Viking SoapGhost.

Ghost watched, his eyes unmoving as John wrote with his charcoal wood pen on some old pages. Geez it must have been four pages with three drawings and eight life updates.

Finally John signed the bottom of the pages and rolled them up with a string.

"You done??" Ghost asked flatly when He finished.

"Yes, now I need these delivered back to Roach."

"You say that like I'm going to do it."

John looks at him, nodding. "You are."

Ghost sighs and groans. "I'm not your dumb messenger bird." He grumbles, shifting closer and standing. John pulls his cloak tighter and chuckles softly. "Actually, you are."

He holds out the folded papers to a pouty Simon. "Go on, shouldn't be long now if you get to it." John encouraged.

"Fine, but I'm bringing back a tab worth my while for it." He grumbled, looking up at the big man.

"Mhm, and I'll happily pay."

Ghost shifted, black wings flapping in the air, snatching the papers between his talons. He squawked at John, who could only smile softly, barely noticable.

And watched him head off. Simon didn't actually mind doing errands for John. If anything the combined stretching of his wings and the inevitable praise he was going to get for completing the assignment would be worth it.

Oh yes indeed.

John kept the fire lit, watching the open snowy land as Ghost's small form had left his sight. He poked the fire, watching the embers flock to the wind of the cave mouth, then over at Ghosts bedroll.

He sighed softly, placing his hand on it, noticing a stray feather stuck to the inside. He chuckled softly, picking it up and twirling it around.

"Be safe, Ghost."

Ghost did as he promised, he made the incredible eight hour journey in the shitty weather back to their small village. Fucking between houses to the main hall.

Stopping at the doors, his feet hit the ground, heading up the stairs and pushing the knocker open.

The large door swing, creaking when he entered. A head poked up, followed by a little smile. "Well well well, hunting season is barely started and you're already back."

Simon rolled his eyes softly, coming over and dropping the roll of papers. "From MacTavish."

"What is it??" Roach asked, undoing the twine.

"Hell if I know, I may be a crow but I do not snoop."

Roach gave him a look, and Simon sighed. "Ok not this time. But I was damn curious."

Roach chuckled softly. "Alright, I'll look these over, you go get some rest. Probably had a long trip."

"Well I got permission to run up a tab so I'm gonna go get my arse drunker than a bat in honey." He flipped the end of his cloth mask back over his shoulder to keep it secure. Heading back to the door and out to go get absolutely hammered.

And you don't want to see a shifter drunk, it's not always pretty. But Ghost has been starting to learn that eighteen drinks is when John has to cradle the poor crow with his talons straight out and wings a mess as he takes him home.

And of course, by the time Ghost had slept off the drunken night Roach had something new written up for him. Returning to the hall and taking the papers.

"Will you be alright to fly?? You look a little..."

"Mmm I'll be fine!" Ghost mumbled, heading from the hall and taking off again. Damn messenger bird. John better congratulate him at least or he's never running him these stupid errands ever again.

It was late when he returned, but he saw the familiar smoke and a crackling fire. Flapping his wings and stretching out his talons when he saw a dark figure among the casting, wobbling shadows.

He latched onto John's arm guard, crooning his neck and fluffing his feathers before tucking them in.

John noticed the letters and gently took them, noticing the scratchy pen writing of Roach.

"Thank you Ghost, you've done very well."

Simon melted, making a little noise and hopping up his arm, craning his head to peck at John's beard.

"Yes, good work." John put the papers down to run his large, calloused thumb over Simon's small head, gently smoothing the feathers down.

Oooh yeah, this is so worth it.

He fluffs his feathers, nipping at his hand when he attempted to pull away. "Alright then, if you insist... Get comfy."

Simon cawed at him. He wouldn't be getting comfortable. Hopping onto the ground and shifting, noticing his bedroll slightly closer.

"You miss me or something?"

"Only warming the place where my cold heart will go after I see that tab." He mumbles as he turns his attention mostly onto the letters.

Simon smiles a tad, laying down and getting comfy. He looks around, then at the fire, watching the flames dance. His head slowly coming down, resting against John's thigh.

It was hesitant, but then again peaceful. The silence only filled by the crackling fire. Simon's head feeling a mess from the last of the alcohol and the flight until Johns hand gently touched his head.

He didn't react, keeping himself stiff as Johns thumb absentmindedly stroked his hair. Eyes still glued on the letters, reading them through.

Simon relented to relaxing, curling up and pulling John's cloak over him slightly. His eyelids felt heavy, and the soothing warmth of John's hand slowly had him coming undone.

Letting himself fall asleep there, letting out soft breaths.

John's gaze finally flickered over to his partner, humming softly. "Good work, Simon. Can always count on you."

He put the papers aside and leaned back, watching the entrance of their camp as Simon slept. He would keep watch, he'd gotten enough of his own rest for now.

It's shorter but hell that first photo had me in a coma. Yes, I am insane, yes, I will make more, respectfully if I'm allowed to keep gobbling up these meals...

[aziraphales-library]

Hi there!!! I was wondering if you happened to have any fics where Crowley calls Aziraphale ‘sweetheart’? Any other pet names are amazing (including angel of course) but I’m just very in love with the idea of Crowley calling Aziraphale sweetheart

Thank you so much for all you hard work!! This blog is a lifesaver <3

Hello! We have a #pet names tag you might enjoy, but here are some fics in which Crowley calls Aziraphale sweetheart...

Four times Crowley called Aziraphale "sweetheart" without noticing (and One time he did) by TheLadyZephyr (NR)

"Sweetheart" (1290) - A person who is very dear to another; one who is loved. From sweet (adj.) + heart (n.) Over the years, Crowley has called Aziraphale "sweetheart" on at least four different occasions. He just hasn't actually noticed himself saying it.

In love, I am, with everything you do by 2ambiace (G)

Following the phone call with Crowley during lockdown, Aziraphale contemplates the letter he wrote and whether he should've taken Crowley up on his offer to 'slither over' and watch him eat cake. Aziraphale finds the courage in his love for Crowley to invite the demon over and cake and love confessions and kisses are shared.

Let Our Epilogue Be Soft And Sweet by Tenoko1 (T)

Crowley hit his palm against the steering wheel. “Of course I’d get upset, angel! Those bastards have tried to kill you twice, Aziraphale! Twice! I spend every damn day worried they might try again! Now-- Now-- your conveniently found and rescued angel is on the loose,” the road forked, and they veered off to a smaller country road, flying past a sign Aziraphale didn’t need to see to recognize, though Crowley gestured wildly to it, “in a god-forsaken national park? Well outside of London where no one can hear you scream? This mystery angel that just so happens to be leaking grace and emoting a distress signal so loud you can still sense it?” Crowley dragged a hand down his face. “Angel, sweetheart. Wake up and smell the trap.”

Waking Up Married by Caedmon (E)

"So you’re telling me that my options are either to convince this man I just met and drunkenly married to stay married to me for six months or lose two thirds of a billion pounds?” “That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Fergus said. “Fucking shit,” Crowley spat. He hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment before rubbing his eyes with his fists. Now his job would be twice as hard. He needed to talk Aziraphale into staying married for six months. Should he try begging or bribing? This was a huge ask, and Aziraphale would be well within his rights to tell Crowley to fuck off. But Crowley was prepared to offer him pretty much anything, up to half of the trust, if that’s what it took. He didn’t care. But that was only part of his concern. Even if he got insanely lucky and Aziraphale agreed to stay legally married to him for the next six months, how the hell was he going to talk Aziraphale into dating him during that time? And was it foolish to even try? One thing at a time, he decided. First, he needed to convince Aziraphale to stay legally married to him. Then he could set about wooing his husband. He hoped.

flightless by viperinz (T)

Crowley finds Aziraphale injured and without his wings long after he stops the Second Coming all on his own. He just didn't expect their reunion to be so morose, and so final.

Sugar And Spice by ladydragona, SylWritesStuff (E)

Queer technology giant Anthony J. Crowley is just about ready to throw in the towel after relationship after relationship has failed, but there's a new barista at the company coffee shop and he's cute and sweet and Crowley's never been able to resist blond hair and blue eyes. The tabloids will have a field day, they always do, but his assistant is getting married and a temp is needed. A temp who really isn't very good at making complicated coffees, has past experience in reception, and absolutely no idea that the latest complicated coffee order came from the owner himself. Aziraphale only knows that he's handsome, patient, and was the first person who told him he was doing well. How could he refuse the temp position? Or, he soon discovers, more.

- Mod D

[shiny-kaibernyte]

If you're taking requests, I love Drayton (favorite Dragon boy) and as a Fairy trainer, I'm super curious what the romantic (and friend) dynamics would be with him. So, I guess I'm asking for Drayton x Fairy reader content? 😅🩷

This gives me opposites attract vibes. The sweet Fairy type dynamic compared to Drayton being Drayton is a vibe I can get behind!

Pixie Wings | Drayton x Reader (Fairy specialist)

Pokémon Scarlett and Violet Indigo Disk DLC Spoilers ahead!

After growing up together traveling the unnova region side by side; when Drayton moved away to blueberry academy, he felt a small part of him was left behind. But fate seemed to have other ideas when a familiar face shows up to brighten his day.

Warnings: Lots of fluff with a little bit of Lacey hate

SPOILER WARNING: Spoilers for The Indigo Disk Ending

Why is Alcremie so cute? Like look at that lil guy, lil buddy so happy to be here 💗

Today was the day, the day you would travel to the blueberry academy. The school upon the sea! For the longest time, you had spent all of your time inside a stupid office building of a school. So when one of your closest friends and yourself both received letters of enrolment to the school; the stars aligned again! Though that didn’t stop the waves of nerves rushing over you. Seems you weren’t the only one feeling them, either.

Sitting on the plane, the nerves settled deeper and deeper in your gut as the mixture of excitement and dread flooded your every thought. Questions rolling around like the ocean tide below you, covering your mind like a cloud does the sun.

“What's got you so quiet?” A voice piped up from your side, “Nerves getting the better of you?”

With a deep sigh, you scrunch your noise, fingers placed on the bridge of it. “Sorry, sorry, I just keep thinking about everything that's going to happen when we arrive. I've never gone to a place like this. Sylveon was acting up all morning too, she isn’t much of a flying fan.”

“I get that, Mimikyu is the same, I can feel his ball shaking in my pocket.” A laugh escaped the both of you as the small talk wafted the clouds away from your mind. “I know you are going to be fine! You're the best damn fairy type trainer I know, and I know a lot of them! I went to a prep school for two years. You don’t get more fairy type than a blonde teen obsessed with make up.”

“That is very true.” The smile on your lips grew bigger as you leaned back into the plane seat, looking out the window to see your destination below. “I wish I could tell Drayton about this…”

“I know…”

Time went by quickly. Upon arriving at the school, a fellow Fairy type user gave you a tour of the building and the terrarium to boot. Teaching you all about the BB League and the other clubs around the school. A nice bonding session as well with your mutual feelings on fairy type Pokémon. She was nice, her outfit was cute too, though there was something you didn't quite get along with about Lacey. “And that about sums it up! To recap, the terrarium is split into four sections, the savannah biome is where the school entrance is! If you are a battler, the BB league is located inside to the right of the stairs. The elite four bases are spread out throughout the terrarium. Be careful when you go for the dragon trial, he, um, tends to get a little full of himself. Nothing new though. Just be advised to not fuel his ego any more than it already is.”

“Will do, thank you again for this. We look forward to seeing you at the trials!” You pipe up, disregarding the comment she made about her ‘friend’. With a small wave, Lacey spun on her heel and headed off for the coastal biome.

“Well, that was something.” Your friend piped up, trying not to laugh about how awkward that last part was. “Considering she calls everyone in the BB league club her friend, the way she speaks about the Dragon elite four members says otherwise. I mean she didn’t even use his name? How can we go off of toothpaste for a name?”

“I don’t know, but I'm sure we’ll meet him. Who knows, maybe it's a sibling rivalry sort of thing between them. Kinda felt like it to me.” You question, attempting to come up with any reason she may have been particularly pokey about one member and not the rest.

The sound of a poke ball stopped your conversation dead in its tracks. Your Archaludon had decided he was bored with the conversation and wanted attention now. Sylveon may have been your first Pokémon, but Archaludon held a special place in your heart; being the only reminder of Drayton you had. It was his Duraladon after all, a parting gift he gave you. It may not have been a fairy type, but that didn’t stop you from putting a fairy tera on it. Just for argument's sake.

Sitting down on a random rock, you quietly feed Archaludon a poffin, keeping him entertained whilst your friend rummages through her bag, finally zipping it back up once she was happy with whatever she did. “Well, I'm a head inside. Lacey describing the science club got me all giddy. Joltik agrees with me.” A small chirp followed your friend's voice as her tiny joltik popped out from her hood. How you didn’t notice it this whole time is beyond you. With a silent wave, you watch her walk into the distance. You weren’t alone for long though

“Two new students in one day and no one told me!?” A voice chimed up from along the beach. A boy, taller than others you had seen during the tour. His hair was spiked up at the front in one big swoop, kind of like, toothpaste. Just like Lacey had said. Though you could only see the back of him. From his outfit, he definitely fits the bill of dragon trainer. 

That's when it hit you. Something about that hair seemed so familiar to you, and it hit you like a tauros. “Do my eyes deceive me!? Drayton? Drayton!! I can’t believe it!”

His neck snapped so fast, it was a surprise he didn’t give himself whiplash. The sound of your voice being music to his ears. Seems his feet began moving on their own; he didn’t even register he was moving till he was already hugging you tighter than a mousehold. “How are you here? What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that!” You respond, wrapping your arms around him tighter, still trying to comprehend the fact he really was there with you. “You moved to the other side of Unova!”

Drayton’s laugh coated your ears, causing your already beaming smile to brighten even more. “Well I didn’t say exactly where, probably should have mentioned the ocean school part huh.”

“Yeah, I've missed you so much, Drayton. Things just haven't been the same without your lively presence.” He had no response to that, only a simple hum as he moved away from you, his hands on your shoulders, a smile on his face. 

That's when your entire team all decided to join Archaludon outside. Sylveon comes out first, running around Drayton’s legs, her blue coat fluffing up with every pass she makes. Your Archaludon was already watching the scene, if it had a tail it would be wagging. The sight of his old trainer and his current trainer looking so happy made the bridge happier than a yamper. Vanilla Alcremi came out not long after Sylveon, doing a little happy dance alongside your Hattereen. Silently your white florges admired the situation, being the newest of the team she simply watched, enjoying the reunion that was unfolding.

“Seems you were not the only one who missed me!” Drayton chuckled, running his hand along Archaludon’s side.

“Would seem that way. When Lacey described you earlier, you were not the person I pictured.” You admitted thinking back to what Lacey said.

Drayton smiled and pulled you into his side to allow the Archaludon to nuzzle into him, his arm around your shoulder. “Ah don’t pay Lacey any mind, she isn’t too fond of my fighting style, she thinks my attitude is unprofessional. Her words, not mine.”

“Well I think your fighting style is great, even if I can beat you no problem.” A cocky grin painted on your face, teasing him.

“Oh is that so!? How about we put that to the test, then?” Drayton offered his signature smirk appearing

[shy-urban-hobbit]

If you're still taking prompts, can I suggest ♡ "stay away from me" from the were-vamp au, with Lambert caught unprepared for the full moon and fearing he will lose control of the beast, if you want to <3

😁😁😁 I love this au so much!

Lambert was driven to all fours by the expected but still sudden pain just as they reached the treeline. Even after almost a century his body starting to remould and reconfigure itself was something he'd never get used to. Fuck human literature for making it out to be something which took mere seconds. It was a long, torturous process: every second feeling like an hour as your entire body feels like it's been engulfed in hellfire both inside and out as bones and muscles tear and break, every sense trying its damned hardest to torture you as they danced along the fine line between too dull and too sharp. He'd known ones younger than him who had attempted to tear out their own teeth and nails or gouge their eyes out during their first transformations in an effort to do something to try and make it stop.

He'd forgotten. A werewolf who'd fucking forgotten it was a full moon tonight!!

He wanted to blame Aiden for his current predicament but even his pain-addled mind knew that that was unfair. Nobody had made him accept his vampiric friends invitation, but after nothing for two months thanks to Aiden's itchy feet (wings?) followed by the letter saying that he was staying in the neighbouring kingdom for the foreseeable and for Lambert to send a reply back with the messenger if/when he wanted to meet... Lambert may or may not have forgotten to double check his calendar in his haste to scrawl a reply saying his was free to meet at the Inn Aiden mentioned at twilight in two days time (usually awakened just as the sun dipped below the horizon, the vampire always did enjoy the apparent 'grey area' and likened it to humans who enjoy rising to watch the sunrise, taking advantage of the cover provided by fully lengthened shadows and the rapidly encroaching dark to bask in the last dregs of daylight).

They'd enjoyed a grand total of 30 minutes together before realisation had slammed into the both of them and Aiden had ushered him back out through the door before taking off running, trusting Lambert to follow him and not caring that both of them were moving a little too quickly for what could be considered normal.

He would have laughed at the situation if it wasn't absolutely, balls to the wall, horrifyingly, horrifically bad.

Having never transformed away from pack territory before there was no way of knowing how the wolf would react, and Lambert could already feel that its interest had been piqued in a way he really did not like. This was going to be an absolute fucking bloodbath one way or another and he had no idea how to stop it. He wanted - needed - pack.

"Lambert, can you stand? We need to keep moving, just a little further in."

A loud, low, canine whine echoed through the dark before Lambert could stop it from escaping.

"Leave." He bit out, the word slightly slurred and muffled whilst his new teeth were still slightly too large for his mouth forcing his slowly elongating jaws apart.

"No." Came the instant reply. The urge to pounce, to grab and tear and bite surged up inside him as he felt Aiden take his elbow.

"Get away from me!" He half screamed, half roared. He was pretty sure the only two words which ended up being coherent were "Get away" but that would still get the message across and Aiden would be wise enough to run. He wasn't sure he'd be capable of forming an argument - let alone voicing one - for much longer.

No such luck. Aiden gave a catlike hiss in response before throwing Lambert's arm over his shoulder and hauling him to his feet, staggering under the unexpected weight of Lambert's extra muscle, "I'm not leaving you like this in unfamiliar territory. I know somewhere we can go, just try not to go feral on me for a little bit longer. Count to one hundred or some shit."

Lambert didn't know where Aiden was taking him, all he knew was that at some point the vampire ended up more or less having to bodily drag him as it became too slow and painful for him to continue walking upright. All of his concentration went towards keeping the beast at bay; trying to ignore all of the unfamiliar noises and smells and how tantalisingly close and accessible Aiden's soft belly was until he felt the vampire lower him to the ground, at which point his mind became blank static as pure, base instinct took over.

Lambert's entire body ached as the feeling started to return to it. He forced himself to take deeper breaths, wincing as his lungs responded with stabs of pain in protest before running through the rest of his checklist, starting from his toes and working upwards. No aches or pains that felt too serious and full movement: always a positive. Finally, he forced his eyes open, not recognising his surroundings.

It looked to be some sort of cave, he got up to unsteadily, brushing off the remaining rags of his clothes as he began to look around curiously. Deep gouges which were recent enough to have only been caused by him littered every single wall alongside an opening which Aiden must have dragged him through last night as it appeared be the only way in or out. Wide enough for a humanoid to pass through but too narrow for his wolf when fully transformed. Lambert smiled to himself, holding a hand out in the weak stream of sunlight it was letting in. Smart man.

Wait...Sunlight.

Lambert's smile dropped and his innards turned to liquid as he hurriedly scrambled through to the outside, not caring about his nakedness.

"Aiden!" He yelled, turning in a rapid circle as he searched, eyes wide despite them screaming at him to close them again in their post transformation sensitivity, "Aiden!!"

"Over here."

Lambert had missed the cloaked figure the first time. Hunched in the narrow sliver of shade against the rock face as they were, they were almost invisible. Exhausted green eyes met his from under the hood with a tired smile.

"...What the fuck are you doing sitting out in daylight?!"

Aiden shrugged, "I told you I wasn't leaving you alone. Don't worry, it's only about an hour passed dawn. I've never been sure how long the effects of transformations linger for so I was going to join you in another hour or so and just hope you were more you than wolf."

"And if I wasn't?"

The silence that followed was heavy, they both knew the answer. By that point Aiden would have been fighting his own instincts for hours. Vampiric rest after all more closely resembled death than sleep and could only be fought for so long after sunrise. An exhausted vampire would be no match for an aggressive werewolf.

"Get the fuck in here." Lambert growled, making to head back into the cave.

Aiden following with a tired shuffle and making sure to keep to the shadows and removing the cloak once he was safely inside and holding out to Lambert, "You need it more than me at this point I think."

Lambert accepted it, wrapping it around himself before sitting against the wall and pulling a spluttering Aiden down into his lap, tucking the other man's head under his chin, "You made sure I didn't do something horrendous last night, least I can do is give you somewhere a little better than the floor to sleep."

"Hmm. You do have a nice lap," he gave a little wiggle as he snuggled deeper into Lambert's chest, eyes already closed, "Comfy."

Lambert huffed a laugh, "Good to know. Some reunion, huh?"

Aiden didn't reply, already quite literally dead to the world.

[blakelysco-pilot]

oooh those prompts are so cute bestie!! I’d love to see 64 & 74 for Ev and Val, and 52 & 87 for Rosie and Jo?

Prompts from this list; ask box is, as always, open chickies! 💗

More of everyone’s favorite pilots & their sweethearts under the cut

Ev & Val

64. “Are you ticklish?”

74. 74. “Don’t let go.”

With the band playing on long into the night, and the Silver Wings Club full of chatter, no one had even heard the rain battering down on the roof. The rain itself wasn’t uncommon on base, but at near midnight after a few drinks, it seemed to stop everyone in their tracks.

“Damn; wasn’t expecting that.” Ev sighed, shrugging off his jacket.

“It’s pouring, why are you taking off your jacket?”

“To keep you dry,” Ev looked down at Val as he draped it over her shoulders. “I’m a gentleman, remember baby?”

“How could I ever forget.” She grinned, slipping her arms into the sleeves, and watching as they fell straight down past her hands, engulfing her.

“So cute,” he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Now come on, let’s see how quick I can get you back to your rack.”

“Wouldn’t mind stealing a jeep right about now.” She grumbled, pushing the sleeve of her right arm up so she could take his hand.

“Oh now she wants to steal a jeep!”

“Come on,” Val pinched his waist, watching as he jumped from where he was standing. It couldn’t be. She pinches his waist all the time. “Ev, what was that?”

“What was what?”

“Are you ticklish?!”

“No…”

“You are!”

“I’m not!”

To prove her point again, she pinched his waist, and he jumped just the same as before.

“How come when I do this while we’re dancing you don’t get all squirmy?”

“Cause I’m wearing my jacket,” he grumbled. “I don’t feel it as much, but I always know you’re there.”

“Oh honey, that's so cute!”

He fixed her with an eye roll before turning back to the door, the rain now somehow coming down harder than it had been a moment ago.

“Alright, you ready to make a break for it?”

“No, let’s go back inside and curl up in one of the big chairs until it passes.”

“Val,” he chuckled. “Mike already kicked us out.”

“Mike doesn’t know it’s pissing rain!”

“Alright, I’ve got an idea…”

Bending at the knees, Everett scooped her up like a bride, cradling her close to his chest as she wrapped an arm around his neck, her head thrown back in glee.

“I thought I’d at least have to wait until we got married for you to carry me this way!”

“You’re wearing a skirt,” he pecked her cheek. “I can’t carry you the other way without everyone else getting a show.”

“Oh no, we can’t have that,” she grinned wickedly, face pressed close to his. “Not when the show is only meant for you.”

“Sometimes I wonder how you got so fresh, and then I remember.”

“It’s four letters and he’s insufferable.”

“Remind me to thank him whenever he gets out of the stalag, yea?”

“Sure thing,” she mock saluted. “Now, let’s get to bed.”

“Don’t tempt me, I’ll sneak in there.”

“I’m counting on it.”

With a wink, Ev tightened his grip on her before stepping one foot out the door, the rain soaking up his pant leg in seconds flat.

“Don’t let go.” He looked down at her, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled, asking her in the moment, and then some, to always hold on.

Rosie & Jo

52. “Can I kiss you?”

87. “You were never just my friend.”

He thought he had it all figured out that morning when he left for work. He was Major Robert Rosenthal. He was smart. He was capable. He was still unable to pull the wool over his mothers eyes.

“Ma, I’ll be home late tonight, we have a big case and I’ll probably-“

“Spend the night at Josephine’s?”

Mrs. Rosenthal fixed her son with a look, one that said he wasn’t fooling anyone. That woman knew exactly what he was up to. With her parents once again visiting Mrs. Harris’ sister down south, Josephine was home alone, and unlike the last time, Rosie was home too, and didn’t like the idea of his girlfriend puttering around in that house by herself.

“I don’t like the idea of her alone, Ma.”

“I know,” his mother sighed. “Go on, just, be respectable for the love of god, Robert.”

“Love you Ma!” He passed her on his way out with a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll call later, okay?”

“Yes, yes of course, now go,” she shooed her son out the door. “Have a nice day at work, and give Josephine my love.”

Now, it was early evening and he was walking down the block towards her home. His briefcase in one hand and a bouquet of peonies in the other, he couldn’t help the extra pep in his step at the idea of spending a whole weekend with her with no one watching them. Quickly ascending the stairs, he knocked on the door, his smile growing as he saw her silhouette approach the door. Then she was there, standing in front of him with a bright smile, stepping forward to wrap her arms around him.

“Hi!”

“Hey, honey,” he sighed, feeling his entire body relax as she hugged him. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” she pressed her lips to his cheek, and Rosie felt himself yearning for every night after work to be this way. “Come in, I’ve got a surprise for you!”

“A surprise? And here I thought I was surprising you.”

Jo stepped back to assess him, and it was then she saw the bouquet of pink and white flowers in his hand, and the twinkle in his eye.

“Robbie, they’re beautiful,” taking them from him, she pressed her nose softly into the petals to take in their sweet scent, smile growing. “Thank you!”

“I know peonies are your favorite.”

“Second favorite.”she grinned.

“What? Wait, I thought -”

“You’re my first favorite,” she took his hand and led him into the house. “Always have been, and always will be.”

He shook his head thoughtfully, her sweet remark lingering between them as he followed her further into the house. He had dropped his briefcase by the door on his way in, and was surprised to see that she had cooked dinner for him while the house was hers alone for the day.

“I made dinner,” she turned back to face him, and he could see she looked a little nervous. “I got the recipe from Jean…”

“Honey pie, I would have been perfectly happy with a club sandwich and some french fries, but this smells amazing.”

“If it’s no good, I promise I won’t be offended. Or upset.”

“Jo, come here…” he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from his chest. Here she was, one of the best bakers he knew, self proclaimed world's best chocolate chip cookies, and she was nervous over dinner.

“We can always go out…”

“Shh,” he pulled her into his arms, cradling her face gently. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Oh!”

“Can I?”

“You don’t have to ask permission, you know. My kisses are for you, always.”

Rosie closed the gap between them, his lips covering Jo’s with zero hesitation. One hand slipped up and into her hair, pulling her closer just so he could feel her body pressed against his. Feel her hands gripping his arms with such force that it felt like she’d never let go. He never wanted her to. She giggled when his mustache tickled her lip, but never wavered in her kiss; her hands slipping up from his biceps until she could wrap her arms around his neck. Nothing but the need for oxygen could separate them, and even then. Rosie was convinced if he was going to die, he’d want to do it in her arms.

“All those kisses just for me,” he whispered against her skin as they broke apart. “How lucky for me… we should have stopped being just friends a long time ago.”

“You were never just my friend,” she purred, nosing at him softly. “I hope you know that.”

“I know. I’m just sorry we wasted so much time dancing around it for so long.”

“I’m not sorry. All my greatest moments have been with you, and we get to keep doing that now. The only difference is, there’s more of this…”

She kissed him again to prove her point, and he agreed in earnest, hands coming to grip her thighs and hoist her into his arms.

“Much more of this,” he grinned. “I promised Ma I’d be a respectable gentleman this weekend…”

“Your mother isn’t here.” Jo winked.

“Then let’s go work up an appetite, sweetheart…”

[sirendeepity]

[ SJM Romance Week, day 7: Free Day ]

A/N: I might be completely and unashamedly biased, but I love those kids to pieces. In my mind, there are one too many options on how the triplets have come into the world, but this is the one I hold dearest, so I tried to put it into words. Hopefully, I did it justice. A short summary would be a canon-compliant fic of sorts, set years into the future, where Nesta and Cassian had kept their pregnancy a secret from the world, but not anymore. Enjoy <3

@sjmromanceweek

T/W: occasional mention of past traumatic events;

W/C: 3.9k

It’s been four years since Cassian had last felt the “jumping off a cliff with tied wings would be less stressful” kind of nervous.

You want this, he reminded himself. And gods damned him, he did. He had all but howled when Nesta had given him the green light. He had written a letter—little more than a scrap of paper with a date, place, and time scribbled on it—, and counted down the days. Eleven. He had double-checked that everything was how it was supposed to be before stepping out of the house—still fifteen minutes earlier. Cassian didn’t want to take any risk. He simply leaned against a tree and waited, looking at the hollowed-out trunk they had used as a drop-off point for their letters during those past few years. A couple of years shy of a decade had passed since he’d last seen his family, so Cassian took those moments of quietness to let his memories flow. How the last war they’d fought had taken everything from his mate, leaving an empty shell of the fierce female she used to be; how he had kept his promise and took her far, far away, to a place no one knew about. A place where they could both rest and heal. Their friends had been distraught when Cassian had told them they would leave for an indefinite amount of time and asked them not to contact Nesta in any way—to give her space and, most importantly, time. And they had. Rhys and Feyre had rarely spoken to him using their daemati abilities, asking for updates, if they needed anything, when could they meet again. Even Azriel’s shadow had kept their distance. Kept their secret, too. A little more than two months and Nesta had held out a closed envelope to him. “For Feyre and Elain,” she said simply. So Cassian had found that very place in the middle of nowhere, tied a white ribbon around one of the lowest branches, and let a simple thought travel out into the ether: “I’ve got something for you.” That had been their first contact. But even as the letters became more frequent, Cassian could see how Nesta’s eyes shuttered every time he tried to bring up Velaris, or the House of Wind. So they all waited. Time flew by, and before Cassian could take a full breath, weeks turned into months turned into years, and now—

“Cass.”

Cassian blinked, turning to face the owner of the voice. Feyre stood a few steps from him, tears already filling her eyes. Rhys was at her side, and Mor, and Az. Everyone had come, right when he’d told them to. Not a minute before, and not a minute later. Words failed him, so Cassian just opened his arms wide, inviting his friends and family back into his life. Tears fell, and laughter soon filled the air around them as hugs and kisses were exchanged. Even Amren, for a fleeting moment, wrapped her slender arms around his middle, squeezing him tightly despite her furrowed brows. Cassian wasted no time, kissing Gwyn on both cheeks in congratulations, careful of her round belly, before setting off into the woods and beckoning them to follow. “There’s something I want to show you.”

“I told you Nesta would turn the wolves prowling this place,” Mor gestured at the mountains around them with a manicured hand, “and make puppies out of them.”

Feyre laughed. It must’ve been a recurring joke between them.

Cassian only grinned, “Something like that.”

A few minutes later they reached an opening, a meadow big enough for comfort, and a house came into view. His house, the one Cassian had built from the grounds up. It was two stories high, with a small patio on the front—mirror to the much larger one in the back— and a tall stone chimney. He had flattened out one side of the rooftop, making a little terrace of sorts—which Nesta had decorated with pillows and plants and candles—, and every door and window had been painted a bright red. It had taken them some time to turn that place into a home, but now there was something unequivocally theirs about it all. Cassian had come to cherish the peace of mind granted by its four walls, and it had turned into a safe space for him as much as it was for his mate. Instead of opening the doors to them, Cassian guided his friends to the back. A couple of stray trees dotted the space, with flowers ready to bloom. They hosted swings and knotted ropes. A sheet had been tied between two trunks and turned into a makeshift hammock.

Planks of wood were still piled up beside the furthest tree. Once upon a time, Cassian had promised he would pick up the project again, but he could hardly bring himself to look at it without bile rising up his throat. That broken tree-house was all he could see.

“Daddy’s back!”

A small figure wrapped in a yellow dress ran toward him, chubby arms already raised in the air. Cassian caught his daughter as she launched at him, swinging her in the air before bringing her close to his chest. Gasps echoed behind him.

“Look, look!” Nora exclaimed. Twin pigtail braids swayed this way and that, following the movements of her head. “Mommy put her ribbons in my braids! Now I’m a valykirie, too!”

Cassian laughed at his daughter’s words. “Valkyrie,” he corrected her, kissing her rosy cheek. “You look so pretty, Ladybug.”

Nora giggled, hiding her face in the crook of his neck and wrapping her arms around him.

“Cass,” Mor choked on a whisper. He winked at her, inclining his head as he moved deeper into the garden. A large blanket had been laid onto the grass, almost every inch of it covered with small plates and trays filled with hard cheese, cured meats, and veggies of all kinds. Nesta had even made fresh rosemary and olive bread that morning, filling the house with its aromatic scent. Thankfully, the Mother had blessed them with a sunny day—a rarity in Illyria, especially during that time of the year, when spring and summer met in uncertain weather. Sometimes it was so warm they had to strip off layers of clothing, others the sky was raining down on them, or the wind sneaked into their home and tried to steal anything light enough to be carried away. That day was perfect, with white clouds sheltering them from the harshness of the sun and a light breeze to keep them cool. The trees helped, too. It was there, under the shadows of rustling leaves, that his mate was. She was seated on a plush pillow, one of the many they had thrown around, with a baby curled over her chest. Two, actually. Maya left a kiss on her brother’s cheek, patting his soft curls as he wiped at his eyes. His wings were relaxed, low on the ground, and Nesta was rubbing his back in wide circles. Nora’s excitement must have woken him from his nap. Athos tended to be grumpy when someone disturbed his dreams. With one last kiss, Maya parted from her brother and ran to Cassian.

She stopped at his side, barely reaching his knees, and Cassian bent down to place a hand on top of her dark hair, braided in a crown—so I can look like Mom, she had said that morning. But it was not at him she was looking at. Her gaze was fixed behind him, where Emerie stood. As Nesta rose, Athos still in her arms, and walked closer, Cassian watched his daughter study the female, waiting. Everyone held their breath.

“Are you Em…” Maya’s blue-gray eyes, Nesta’s eyes, turned to him, and Cassian nodded in encouragement, “..Erie?”

Emerie sniffed once before clearing her throat. “That’s me.”

Maya gasped, joy lighting up her soft features. She pivoted, pink skirts and all, and spread her little black wings. The right one stretched open, while the left couldn’t go past half its length. A brutal scar ran down its inner side, covering leather and skin alike. Cassian’s throat closed at the memory of his daughter, his Butterfly, falling from the tree house. The one he’d built for them. The one he should’ve built better, making sure everything was safe before letting three toddlers get in it.

One of the floor planks had given out when Maya had jumped on it, the wood breaking beneath her tiny feet, and in her fall the exposed shards had dug into her back. Had cut through tendon and bone alike. They had managed to save her spine—fuck, they had managed to save her life—but there was nothing they could do for the little wing. It had been devastating. For weeks, Cassian had barely been able to eat, to sleep, to look his kids in the face. He’d been ridden by guilt and shame. He still was, the darkness lurking toward him, hitting him in waves, and more than a year had passed since that awful day. A warm hand grabbed his, holding gently, and Cassian turned toward his mate, exchanging glances. She knew, he knew, neither of them would let the shadows take control of their thoughts, their emotions, again.

“Mama said I’m like you!” Cassian could’ve sworn pride laced his daughter’s words. Nesta had told her, told all of them, countless stories about Emerie, and Gwyn, and even Feyre and Elain. About those females who had not allowed the blows life had dealt them to break their spirit, to bend their will.

“Did she now? Well,” Emerie said, voice thick with emotions as she bent down and stretched her open palm toward Maya, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, then.”

“I’m Maya,” she said, grabbing Emerie’s fingers with both hands. “And she is Nora.” On cue, Nora started wiggling in his arms, so Cassian placed her feet back on the ground and wrapped his newly free arm around Nesta’s waist. “And that is Puppy.”

“He is Athos!” Maya scolded her sister, both of them bursting into a fit of snorts and giggles. Athos blinked once, twice, golden-brown curls falling into the hazel eyes they shared. With skin one or two shades paler than his sisters’, he was the one resembling Nesta the most—save for the pair of leathery wings on his back, now tucked in tight as he turned his head the other way and hid in the safety of his mother’s arms. He had her same quiet nature, too, but that didn’t stop his sisters from luring him into trouble at any given chance. Nora, on the other hand, was Cassian’s carbon copy. Not just in looks, but in spirit too. She laughed as hard as she cried, living her emotions to the fullest. Much like the day they were born, she was always at the lead, always the first to act, to make way for her twins. Believe it or not, she was not the mind behind their shenanigans. Maya was. Their eyes were the only feature that set them apart. One from forests and mountains, the other from skies and seas. Maya was a little devil in disguise, already too clever for her own good.

“Oh, my,” Elain breathed, cheeks stained with tears. “Are they-”

“Triplets,” confirmed Nesta. The waterworks began again.

“When?”

“How?”

“Girls, finally!”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Congratulations, brother.”

Cassian raised his hands, exposing his palms in surrender, and said, “We’ll tell you everything, but we should eat first, or only the ants will enjoy my bread.”

Cassian took Athos from Nesta’s arms so she could greet her sisters properly, and edged Nora and Maya toward their embroidered pillows, the others following suit.

As he caught Azriel’s eyes, his brother left his mate’s side and inched closer.

“Hey, Puppy,” Cassian murmured into his son’s ear, guiding his attention toward Az. “Do you see this guy?” A nod. “If you don’t like the noise, or if there are too many people, or you just don’t feel very good and your mother and I are not around, you go to him, okay?”

Azriel inhaled slowly, his shadows swirling with the movement. A black curl reached out tentatively, and Athos studied it. His warm eyes rose to Azriel’s then, who patiently waited for the boy to make the first move. “Do they hurt?” He asked, one little finger reaching back.

“No.” To prove his point, he let the black tendril wrap around Athos’ finger. “They’re very curious, though. They like puppies, I’ve been told..”

Athos’s gasp turned into a quiet giggle. “They tickle.”

Soon they were all seated, letting fresh food and berry juice pass from hand to hand, talking about everything and nothing at all. From the projects Nyx wanted to explore to modernize Velaris—the male, now more than 50 years old, had a mind so brilliant it turned Dawn’s thinkers green with envy—, to the journey across the continent Lucien had promised Elain as a gift for their latest anniversary—only a couple of arrangements left to make before their departure—to the obvious new double-addition to their ranks, Azriel and Gwyn’s twins. There was so much to tell, so much to catch up on.

Cassian looked at his brother and found him smiling tenderly at the boy, love and gratitude filling his eyes.

“But let’s focus on the real stars of this day,” Mor said, face still splotchy from all the crying. Her brown eyes jumped from one little face to another, as if she wanted to imprint their soft features into her brain as quickly as she could.

“When is your birthday?” Rhys asked, taking a sip from his glass. “We have missed five of them. We must fix it.”

Maya didn’t even finish chewing her food before replying. “Four.” To prove her point, she raised three jam-sticky fingers in the air. Rhys chuckled, bending his head. “My apologies.”

“At the crack of dawn on the 23rd of September,” three curly heads turned one after another, entranced by their mother’s voice. “After ten hours of labor,” Nesta added pointedly, twisting Maya’s dark strands around her finger, “Came Nora, then Maya, and then Athos.”

Nesta exhaled heavily, Cassian replicating the gesture. “Our brave boy.”

At his words, the groups shared a sort of understanding.

There was this belief, among Illyrians, that every time a baby was born, they were faced with two options—two mothers. If they got too scared by the world surrounding them, so dark and cruel and full of terrors, the Mother would cradle them in her arms and take them someplace else, where no harm would ever find them. Nesta, Cassian knew, was still plagued with nightmares of her pained, desperate screams filling the silence left by their son. He’d come out of the womb with the birth cord wrapped around his neck. Despite the midwife’s lightning speed in freeing his airways, it hadn’t been enough. But then, just as the sun peeked from behind the mountain tops, time had seemed to slow as a small, frail, tentative wailing filled the room.

“Really?” Gwyn exclaimed with too much enthusiasm. She placed a hand on her bump, forcing her lips to curve in a smile despite the tears brimming her teal eyes. “They’re supposed to be due at the beginning of August. Close enough.”

“Sissy’s birthday is in August, too!”

“No, Nora,” Cassian laughed, grateful for the distraction. He placed a cheese stick in her hand. She chewed on it without hesitation. “Her birthday is in June.”

“Who is Sissy?” Lucien asked. “Are we missing someone?” He looked shocked, as if he couldn’t believe there were more.

“Trixie—Beatrix,” Nesta amended, “is our oldest.” By the look on their faces, Cassian knew they were all doing the math.

“Don’t worry,” he grinned, “She will be here, soon.”

“She already is.”

All eyes turned toward the house, to the proud female stepping out the backdoor.

Joyous screams rose from the kids, their smiles lighting up like fireflies as they stood and ran to their sister.

Trixie crouched, arms open, bracing for the collision. She kissed their cheeks, their little noses, their soft curls. Cassian’s heart swelled in his chest at the sight.

“Such cute overalls, Puppy,” she said, taking his hand and guiding him into a spin.

His son smiled from ear to ear. “You gave it to me!”

“I did, didn’t I?” She gestured for the kids to sit down again with one hand, the other holding the ribbons tied around a box. Trixie bent to leave a soft kiss against Nesta’s temple, placing the box on the grass at her side before rising again and making her way to him. She knelt behind him, and Cassian moved his wings to make space for her body as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him, moving to sit at his side. Nyx, to her right, looked anywhere but at her, the tips of his pointed ears turning a deep shade of red. Cassian was tempted to call him out, but knew his “over-protectiveness” would only piss off Trixie.

“Everyone, this is Trixie,” Cassian said, grinning like a cat. “Trixie-”

“Everyone,” she cleared her throat, bobbing her head once in acknowledgment.

Maya made her way onto Trixie’s lap, passing food to her older sister, and they flowed back into easy conversation.

From the opposite side of the blanket, Amren nodded in Trixie’s direction, “How did you find that one?”

“She found us,” was Nesta’s reply. She opened the box containing the Illyrian’s typical pastries Cassian had asked Trixie to buy, and found a little corner to place them among the rest of the food. “She had made the house her own. I found her sleeping in our bed when we came here.”

Cassian, Mother damned him, had come dangerously close to losing it when he had realized they were not alone in the house. The dagger was in his hand within moments, ready to take down any threat, when Nesta had climbed down the stairs on nimble feet and told him, in that no-nonsense way of hers, that there was a little girl asleep in the main bedroom, and he should cook dinner for three that evening. Cassian had kissed her senseless, and just like that they had found themselves with a daughter. Well, Cassian wished it had been that easy. Trixie, who had seen and lived through more than any fourteen-year-old should, had waged war on them for months, trying her very best to push them over the edge. But Nesta was relentless, and so was he. Nothing she could’ve said or done would have made them turn their backs on her. So she stayed, and soon enough Beatrix became Trixie became Sissy. A blessing, that’s what she’d been. She had healed some intrinsic part of Nesta that not even Cassian had been able to reach. He would forever be indebted to her for that reason only. Her wings had not been clipped, so he’d been able to teach her how to fly, and fight, and dream again. His daughter in all the ways that mattered, and then some.

“The house was big enough for all of us,” Nesta glanced pointedly at her, adding, “It still is.”

Trixie stared right back at her, one of those wordless conversations happening between the two females. Cassian was used to it.

“That’s amazing,” Elain smiled brighter than the sun. “I am so, so happy for you guys.”

“Please,” Gwyn whined, “Don’t cry or I’ll cry, too.” The two laughed, tears slipping free anyway.

“I can see why you kept contacts to a minimum,” Lucien passed a napkin to Elain, gently pulling locks of hair away from her face as she dabbed the corners of her eyes. “I would’ve kept this little corner of heaven a secret from the world, too.”

Cassian glanced at Nesta and found that she was already looking at him. Now, her eyes seemed to say. A tug on the bond confirmed that.

“Speaking of which,” Cassian exhaled. Should he break the news gently? Or should he go straight for it, and adapt to the consequences?

Nesta, it seemed, had already made that choice for both of them. “We’re coming back to Velaris.”

Feyre could barely contain her enthusiasm. “Really?”

“Really,” Cassian echoed. “It will be good for the kids. They should make friends and play with other kids their age and drive us crazy. Am I right?”

Maya looked up at him, a mischievous gleam in her bright eyes. Nora, closest to Nesta, was already giggling.

“Mother spares us all,” Rhys murmured. They had their hands full, and they had never left this mountain. Cassian already felt weak in the knees at the idea of unleashing the triples on Velaris. But, fuck, how he wanted to take them on walks along the Sidra, or see the House turn into an even bigger mother-hen for Nesta’s kids, or teach them how to fly on one of its many balconies. And Starfall! They would love Starfall, he was sure of it. And the week-long celebrations for Solstice, with presents and hot cocoa and-

“Oh, no,” Trixie’s voice called him back to the moment. She was facing Nyx, answering a question he must’ve asked her while he was lost in his thoughts. “I’m going to stay here.”

Nora gasped, and Nesta was instantly there to calm their daughter down before she started what they had taken to call “the domino cry”.

“It’s okay,” Trixie said while rubbing Maya’s arms. The pout on her face was not a good sign. The trembling chin was even worse. Cassian gazed down at Athos, looking for any hint of distress. Trixie went on, “We’ll see each other every week, I promise.”

“But why can’t you come with us?” Nora sniffed. “It’s unafaire.”

“Unfair,” Nesta murmured to her, “And she can’t come with us because there are other kids who need her here.”

“Other kids?” Athos scrunched his little nose.

He nodded. “You three have each other, but other kids might not be so lucky. Trixie was among them, a long time ago.”

“But Sissy is our Sissy.”

“I am, yes,” Trixie said, “But maybe I can be that for all the other children who need a Sissy as well, don’t you think?”

Nora blinked at her a couple of times, mulling over the words. “Will they become Ladybug, Butterfly, and Puppy, too?”

Behind her, Nesta shrugged. “Why not.”

Cassian’s heart made a backflip inside his chest. He met his mate’s serene gaze, the most delicate pink staining her cheeks. They would end up with a legion of kids if Nesta had her way. Cassian couldn’t think of a single reason why she shouldn’t.

Cassian mirrored her smile with one of his own. “We should start thinking about names, then.”

“You guys are out of your minds,” Amren commented, but the concern in her voice didn’t match the grin stretching her red-painted lips.

Athos started laughing, the giggles turning into full belly laughs as his sisters joined him. And as the wind made lullabies of rustling leaves, and the smiles of his family outshone the sun itself, Cassian knew with absolute certainty the one reason he was still there, alive and content. Or maybe it was three.

[mastersoftheair]

So just to clear the air (and I guess my massive confusion) Harry never slept with Sandra, correct? I gotta say I need to read his memoir at this point as he is so intriguing to me, as well as masters of the air book, but like you said it’s a “blink and miss it” thing. I didn’t interpret it as anything more than having a few friendly conversations. It was more about emotional infidelity to me than physical, but given the circumstances and that exact heartbreaking point in time for Harry I can’t find it in me to blame either of them.

for me, ig i'm coming at my position from a place of bias. i'd read crosby's "a wing and a prayer" sometime in either 2021 or 2022 (those years blend together tbh), so i've had a lot of time to think about those 2 and their relationship and i lean towards "yeah, it likely happened" (this is a long response btw bc i'm quoting from the memoir):

crosby introduces his new friend, alexandra "landra" wingate (aka sandra westgate), in the chapter "learning about americans from the british" (this chapter was basically what we see in episode 6). moving on from this tho–

in the chapter "with landra in london", he expands on their growing relationship and the reader learns more about landra (she is genuinely Such an interesting person, and probably a spy). crosby writes about her with such admiration, regularly bringing up how smart she is. also, she's a captain!

this chapter's pretty important in how i formed my opinion on the matter. i understand the argument that the closeness of their relationship was intentionally left vague, but this chapter reads in a way that makes it feel Heavily implied despite not saying a lot (especially alongside crosby's emphasis on his wife jean being "four thousand miles away", as well as his own loneliness and despair wrt to all the missing and dead). there are some standout lines here:

-"I had Jean at home and Landra in England." (not a red flag, but it's a flag) -"I started seeing Landra every time I could." (cool) -"All I knew was that [Landra] was making my life much more endurable." (also cool) -"I did not tell Jean about Landra." (the last sentence of the chapter. it gave me pause and almost instantly reshaped the way i viewed that whole chapter)

the next chapter, "r&r with jean", crosby recalls how much the war took a toll on both him and his relationships. for a time, jean wrote more letters to croby than the other way around ("I began to skip writing to her."). i assume crosby must've been radiating Exceptionally negative energy bc he gets told this: "Croz, we can't stand to have you around. We want you back, but we want you to go home for a while." (i found the phrasing here really funny tbh. your vibes Suck! just Get Out of here!!)

so, crosby contemplates seeing jean again, wondering how both of them may have changed. he also brings up landra, for Some Reason: "What would I think of her? Protected in the States as she was, how would she compare to Landra? Now that I had grown so much, had such experiences, how would Jean and I fit together?"

the rest of the chapter Is about meeting and catching up with jean, however, and you can tell that he loves her a Ton. it's very sweetly written (he also basically ends the chapter saying "btw, we conceived our first child ;) ")

the final chapter about landra is "london junket" which begins with "When I returned from the United States and my idyll with Jean, I knew I had to do something about Landra." i think that sentence alone is pretty damning. if landra was just a friend, why would you be anxious about calling a friendship off? is it a guilt thing?

the context here is that crosby feels Far less lonely and depressed. he's met up with jean, life in london is finally "a delight". i found that important bc it gives me the impression that crosby desperately wanted companionship (possibly of two kinds), and he found that in landra– a friend and a maybe a [REDACTED]. now that he's having a great time with his friends in the 100th And he's met up with his wife, that itch's been scratched (that's just my opinion tho). bc of that, he decides to say goodbye to landra. they have this exchange:

"When a month passed after you were to return, and you did not phone me," she said, "I suspected that it was over. You found things good with Jean?" I told her about R&R in the U.S. I told her more about Jean. I told her about Stephen Patrick, Jeffrey Allen, or Evalyn. "When I realized you were gone," she said, "I no longer said no to a nice American at my office. I have been with him several times. I like him." (interesting) "I’m glad." (also interesting) "He is not married, He is not so dashing as you, but we have good times together." Me "dashing"? That was not my self-image. So much for Landra."

all put together (and with over 2 years to think about it), i Really kinda saw That Scene coming. but, like i said, i had that bias. and since i'd had a good amount of time to think about them, i came out the other end still excited to see them on screen. i found (and still find) landra a fascinating woman who must've had an exciting life (crosby's okay too ig lol). i also see them as a couple of imperfect, even selfish, 20somethings (speaking as an imperfect and selfish 20something). not to be corny, but "it takes 2 to tango". landra is Very intelligent, and crosby recounts how that aspect of hers left him in awe. she'd've 100% known the guy was married. and if signs point to her having had sex with the man, then she either made peace with it or simply didn't care (a lot of women are like that). plus, they're real people and real people contain multitudes idk. maybe some wife somewhere across the atlantic is hard to care about if you've never met her and never will. maybe it's hard to consider your wife's feelings in the midst of your own misery. a female character doesn't have to be wholesome and pure to be considered well-written. that certainly doesn't apply to most male characters. like you said, no one is perfect!

maybe, crosby left it vague out of respect to his wife. maybe it's vague bc nothing happened anyway (funny way to write it tho). maybe the wingate family wanted to avoid association with MotA bc it Literally didn't happen. or maybe they know it happened, but want to keep her name clean out of respect (who wants one brief relationship that happened 80 yrs ago to define you/your loved one decades later? that's 100% understandable). whichever the case, even crosby's kids are in a 50/50 split. i still lean towards "it happened", but it doesn't make me dislike either of them. they're flawed and i can respect that more than the show portraying either as picture perfect.

NONE of this is to say that i'm cool with cheating (or giving a "world war cheating pass", so to speak). while i find it realistic, it still wouldn't have been fair to jean, whether she knew about it or not (being a woman in the 1940s wasn't easy by any stretch). this Also isn't to dismiss anyone else's opinion on the matter, bc cheating on your partner is still a shitty thing to do. this whole spiel of mine is bc i like to share my opinions and i'm allergic to being concise. i write like i talk and on all levels except physical, anon, i'm giving you a long-winded rant over coffee and croissants lol

thanks for the ask!

[it-was-written-in-the-stars]

♡Dorian Havilliard x reader♡

A song for those who weep

Chapter two ○●○

Warning(s): contains mild spoilers for throne of glass and crown of midnight by SJM, angst

Word count: 1270

[Characters featured in this story do not belong to me]

♡♡♡

He stumbled over the threshold, his gaze flitting through the unnaturally empty room. Realisation struck him like a powerful wave. A rock colliding with the surface of a still lake, sending rings of water cascading outwards. You were gone. Vanished. As though the wind had picked you up and carried you away from him. He reverted back to when he had last seen you. He vividly recalled that vivacious smile which had decorated your face. What had provoked you to leave without a farewell?

He felt hollow, as though his insides had been carved out and he was cast aside as just a husk of a human being. Had his father done something to you?

A pile of leather bound journals lay on your four poster bed, its weight supported by a thick burnished book, letters engraved with gold decorating the cracked spine and cover. 'A song for those who weep'.

◇◇◇

You loosed a breath, aiming for the Palace library where you had intended to meet with Dorian. The interaction you had shared still buzzed around you, fluttering gracefully like the wings of a butterfly. It felt so natural to share such moments with him, to be around him. "I've missed you"

Your fleeting moment of elation was interrupted as you took note of one highly portentous thing. It was wrong of you to think something could blossom between the two of you. Afterall, his heart belonged to another.

You became painfully aware of another presence as you strode through the second floor corridor. She moved like the breeze, swift and unyielding.

"Celaena, it's lovely to see you" you muse as she falls into step beside you. She gives you a sceptical look, as though she doubted the sencerity of your words. "I need your help" she states, successfully blocking off your path. You quirk a brow, visibly intruiged. "I must inform you of something important but not here- there are far too many prying eyes" Celaena mutters, itching closer before looping your arm through hers. You fumble trying to evade whatever conversation awaited you, highlighting that you were in the midst of completing a highly cardinal task, but she brushes aside your complaints, opting to haul you into her lavish chambers.

It was just like how you had remembered it, the sprawling lounge fitted near the ornate golden fireplace. That same floccose rug spread out across a deep oak floor. An open doorway leading to her bedroom, and that beautiful wall mural tieing the arrangement together with a soft silk ribbon.

Your gaze lingers on that damned back wall. The place where you had last seen them. Exchanging a heated gesture of sizzling romance. A reciprocated one, unlike the cold hard blow you had received. If Celaena noticed a change in your demeanour, she didn't mention it.

She sucked in a breath, her eyebrows furrowing. "There is something rotten in Adarlan- and I intend to unearth what it is" Celaena began, her back straightening.

"But to do so I need more allies- and you are one of the few people I can trust to aid my cause". A grin stretches across her face as she peers over at your positively baffled expression. "I'm glad to see you back in the palace- there has been an absurd amount of testosterone circulating around here" she drawled. You blink. Once. Twice.

When the assassin had first waltzed over the threshold to the Glass Palace, she had swiftly barrelled into your tight knit group of friends. The two of you appeared to be tied at the hip, never missing a beat and dancing to your own boisterous songs. But she had known. She had been well aware of your feelings towards the Crown Prince. It hadn't just been heartbreak that had induced you to leave. It was also betrayal.

You took a steadying breath. She was your friend. You couldn't blame her for falling for Dorian. Right? It was your duty to help her.

"What do you mean by 'rotten'?" You ask, tearing yourself away from your seemingly endless well of self pity. Celaena crosses her arms over her chest, standing with the stillness of a statue. "You know what I mean- something vile is brewing and it somehow correlates with magic". You turn her words over in your head. You had a vague sense that this said 'rot' was linked in with the infamous King of Adarlan.

"But magic has been gone for years" You counter, a sudden feeling of dread embedding itself within you and rooting you to the spot. Celaena let out a distressed sigh, casting a sideways glance towards the glass balcony doors. "That's partially why I need your help". "I've been thinking a lot about this whole mess since you left-" she pauses, shifting back to face you. "-Why did you leave?". Your heart seems to halt. You should have expected your impulsive choice to be brought up.

"I needed some time alone- to think" you say rather somberly. It was a half truth, which happened to be the most you could offer. "I saw you" she suddenly muses, her tone tender. The words echo in your head. You feel your shoulders cave in, your heart cracking, ignoring the deplorable glue with which you had mended it. "That day after we retreated from the ball". It was getting hard to breathe.

You were plunged back into a recollection you had vowed to purge, a memory which had marred you in a way no other had. You were drowning, a floundering figure trying to grip onto some surface only to come to the harsh realization that nothing could save you from the lethal current shoving you deeper and deeper.

♡♡♡

You had been pacing along the corridors leading to the Crown Prince's chambers, preparing yourself for the confession you had been concocting for what felt like years. Your heart was beating wildly, threatening to escape your chest as you passed by Celaena's rooms. That's when you heard it. His laugh. In her chambers. Your feet moved on their own accord, propelling you back to the door of your friend's room. You peered through the opening, your heart dropping at the sight-

♡♡♡

"I have to go" you manage to get out before pivoting towards the door and rushing out. She calls after you, but you fail to acknowledge it. "I saw you". It was the final blow you had not been primed for. It was a mistake to return. You cursed yourself for having deemed yourself ready when you were still a crumbling mess. A heap of emotions sloppily strung together.

"Y/n?" A voice rasps from somewhere to your right. You halt your brisk trek, turning to face Dorian. "You weren't in the library- I was beginning to worry so I went to check if perhaps you were in your room but- is everything alright?". You try to force yourself to smile, to mask your pain but another memory hits you.

♡♡♡

Your gaze refused to leave them as they waltzed and twirled along the dancefloor with pristine, refined ease. They seemed to have been molded together, two perfect halves. You had asked him to save a dance for you. You had been seventh on the list he were to entertain. But he was currently dancing his twelfth dance, still nestled in the embrace of Celaena whom he had danced with first. Perhaps it was wrong of you to think you stood a chance but it was then that you had decided that you would share your feelings with him.

[azsazz]

Will you please please give us your thoughts on Iron Flame?!?!

Fourth Wing/Iron Flame Spoilers below cut!

So...

First off, there was so much world building that I was kind of confused. I just kind of gave up at some point and read it for the characters lol. maybe it's because i didn't re-read fourth wing before.

the names of everything was a little annoying because they were all so unique i spent like two minutes trying to figure out how to pronounce everything. like she has four basic names (liam, sloane, violet, jack) and the rest I'm like ?!?!?!? WHO?

Speaking of Jack...I'm not sure I liked that whole thing. There wasn't any alluding to the fact that he'd be back in the first book, and I feel like he basically appeared out of nowhere in the second. Yes, we knew the healer was helping mend his soul (which is interesting af to me because how many others could they have helped? or is it just because he was a venin?) but the man literally had a fucking mountain dropped on him?! No way he would've survived I'm sorry.

I thought all of the fighting between her and Xaden was kind of annoying...like come on. And we learned so much about xaden but not at all at the same time?! like, now he can read minds, which means violet misinterpreted the sage/venin dreams because I'm assuming they came from xaden now, he was probably projecting them on her subconsciously.

chapter 48 was hot tho, the throne sex stuff, always a banger in my book.

why the hell was everyone keeping so many secrets from violet. like xaden, the dragons, her family...they keep saying how smart she is and stuff but like, that doesn't mean she should have to figure out everyones secrets for themselves?! betrayal.

also, how the fuck does someone become venin? was that explained in the first book or this one because now xaden is somehow one and idk how that happened?!

low-key i'm happy dain and her are getting closer again, but also your childhood's best friend's dad trying to kill you? i feel like that was unwarranted tbh. then he got sent away because of it and i wonder if he's going to make a reappearance.

also, andarna...she was hardly in the damn book. and i didn't think her lines were anything really special. i feel like she's basically only in the book for one specific plot point and the rest she's just off sleeping or with the elders or doing something else so ry doesnt have to write her?

omg the part where nadine said she was violet and that guy immediately snapped her neck was fucking WILD.

and the whole thing with cat was like petty as fuck but her power seems interesting. i enjoyed reading the challenge violet had when she was messing with her emotions.

let's see...i wonder what violet's second signet is going to be. she kept mentioning how well andarna could blend into her surroundings so im wondering if invisibility is one that could happen...or maybe the transportation one that they said hadn't been a thing for a long time. i feel like why mention that if she isn't going to bring that back too.

also, the headers before each chapter scare me. RECOVERED letters from xaden to violet....recovered from where and why whats going to happen 😭

wow, this was a lot of thoughts lol...i also want a bonus chapter from tairn or another dragons pov because i feel like him and sgayl were fighting a lot this book but i want to know what they're saying to each other.

overall, i enjoyed the read and the midnight release experience was so much fun and cute and clever and i def think they should bring those back. maybe for cc3 they'll do that!

[wellpresseddaisy]

On a Wing and a Prayer pt 2

Harry took a deep breath and tried to stop fidgeting. He’d wear a hole in his cuff if he didn’t, and he didn’t want Mrs. Weasley to feel like she needed to mend it. She’d already brought them all over-robes to wear to the appointment and some of the clothes older Weasleys had already outgrown for him. He appreciated things that fit better than Dudley’s cast-offs…and just the consideration of it. He knew they didn’t have a lot extra, but she still wanted to help in any way she could. Even the thought that he now had four adults in his life who gave a damn what happened to him boggled his mind. Granted, one was a potentially former Dark Lord, but that was four more people than he’d had previously.

(Five, if you counted Snape. Harry wasn’t certain he wanted to count Snape, no matter how tetchy the man got about him being put in mortal danger on the regular. At least that’s what Sirius hinted at in his last letter…if he could trust it. Sirius, he’d learned, was a terrible gossip. Anyhow, did it count when the adult’s personality could curdle milk?)

The goblin (no name given, just an irritated sneer, which Mrs. Weasley had explained was normal for the bank before they arrived) stared impassively at them from the other side of his desk.

“And why has Mr Potter chosen now to attend Gringotts, and not answered any of his post?” He asked.

Mrs Weasley sighed and looked unimpressed. It was the kind of unimpressed you could only manage if you’d raised Fred and George, Harry reckoned.

“Headmaster Dumbledore has, as per the rules explained to him by the Potter account manager, sent the appropriate form each quarter day by return receipt, informing this institution of the post redirection on Mr Potter. You can see the entirety of his correspondence here. He made copies of the forms sent and has attached the original receipt received in the post.” She pushed a bulging file folder over the desk. “He did try removing the redirection in this past Autumn term as Harry is fourteen and certainly responsible enough to manage his own trust account. It lasted about twenty-four hours. There should be correspondence regarding that incident as well. We’ll be meeting with the postal service after this to see what we can do about getting Harry his Gringotts post.”

The goblin perused the file, looking more annoyed than ever. Harry expected that, Mrs. Weasley having explained to them all that sometimes one needed to be rather forceful in requesting less commonly sought services. Most in the magical community just went to the Ministry. Mr Weasley insisted on anything that needed to remain private being done at Gringotts, so long as they held shared jurisdiction. He'd heard enough in the canteen to keep him from ever using Ministry services for inheritance or other family record keeping, even it it was free.

“This appears to be in order, though I will be opening an inquiry on just why the Potter account manager did not make note of the post redirection. You are certain you wish to do this here and not at your Ministry?” That was directed at Harry.

“Er, yeah. Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley said that if you want private things kept private then you use Gringotts services. After this past year I don’t want my business spread around. I know there’s a fee here, but I’d rather pay that and have some privacy than use the free service at the Ministry.” Harry sat up straighter and folded his hands in his lap. No use looking like he was going to pieces, no matter how he felt inside.

“And, as Harry’s trustee, Headmaster Dumbledore has approved the expense.” Mrs. Weasley produced another piece of parchment and handed it to the goblin.

“All is approved for the complete lineage plus any squib lines. Creating the lineage itself is simply a matter of writing your name. Any interpretation will be done by the Inheritance department. I will send a copy to them and they will owl you with any findings within the month. You will receive the original document and three copies will be filed, one in your vault and two with this department. Do you understand all this?” ‘Or do I need to explain it again in smaller words’ underscored the question.

“No, that’s easy enough to understand. Thanks.” Harry swallowed hard.

He knew there wouldn’t be any immediate answers, but he’d waited two weeks already and the whole process seemed to drag on forever. He couldn’t help some nerves.

Hermione practically vibrated in her seat next to him. Surprisingly, her parents looked just as interested and engaged in the process. She’d be doing it after him, of course, but it still surprised him to see how interested Mr. and Mrs. Granger were. They weren’t at all like Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. They dressed better, for one, and they actually seemed to like Hermione as a person, for two.

“Wonderful. This,” the goblin held up a quill so black is seemed to suck the light out of the room. “Is a blood quill. It uses your blood as ink to interact with the specially treated parchment. You will feel a pinch or sting on the back of your hand as you use it. It will be destroyed as soon as you have written your full name. The space on the parchment is marked.”

Harry stared at the neat line at the bottom of the sheet and took a deep breath. He picked up the quill (should it feel cold in his hand?) and wrote his name. The goblin spoke truthfully — the shallow sting as he wrote nearly had him dropping the quill. He finished and handed the quill back, watching as the goblin dropped it into a container on his desk and pushed a button. An acrid reek slipped free as Harry watched some liquid pour into the container through the window on the front. The quill dissolved into a pool of oily black.

“It smells terrible but destroys both quill and any blood residue. If you take this, your results should start to appear in the next few minutes.” He handed the parchment over. “Now, we have another for a lineage today?”

“Yes, please.” Hermione answered brightly.

“We opened a vault for our daughter yesterday. You should be able to draw the fee from there,” Mrs. Granger explained. “Hermione has the key to it.”

“Your key then?”

Hermione handed it over without hesitation. The goblin pressed it into a recess in the desk and watched as it glowed gold. Harry kept his attention firmly on Hermione. He didn’t want to look like a complete wally staring at a blank parchment.

“Payment received in full. You can stop by the tellers for an updated accounting of your vault. Do you understand the process?”

“Oh, yes,” Hermione answered. “It seems straightforward. In addition, I understand that the Inheritance department may find nothing. This is more for my own curiosity than anything else.”

“And family is important,” Mrs. Weasley added.

“You may sign, Miss Granger,” the goblin prompted, handing over a blood quill.

Hermione took a deep breath and added her neat signature to the parchment. She handed the quill back immediately and they watched as it disintegrated as well. Harry peeked down at his parchment. His parents had filled in already, and it looked like his Dad’s parents had too. With difficulty, he wrenched his attention away from the sheet and gave it to the goblin.

“Now that you have both signed, there are some final instructions. Your parchments are linked to a master copy that will be kept under heavy security in this office. Your lineage charts should finalize within the next twenty-hour to seventy-two hours. For particularly old families, this may take up to a week. The print will become smaller as the chart grows. When you wish to view the chart in its entirety,  tap it twice with your wand. You may still need a magnifying charm, as it will not enlarge past eight feet by six feet.” That seemed directed more at him, Harry thought. “Once the chart has completed, I will make copies from it and deposit them as per the mandate of this department. If you wish a copy to be deposited with the Ministry, you must write, pick up a copy, and bring it yourself. There is a charge of fifteen gallons for a Ministry copy. Is this understood?”

Harry and Hermione chorused a yes.

“Good. You are much less troublesome than most. I appreciate that you have followed instructions without quibbling or complaint.”

Harry wondered just who the goblin had to deal with. And what had they complained about?

“All the names on your charts will appear in black and will append birth and death dates. Magical lines will be traced in violet. Squib lines are traced in light green. Any line for which you are a potential heir will be traced in gold. The Inheritance department will arrange an appointment should they find any of these. Do not write me about it. I have nothing to do with inheritances. Mr. Potter, your account manager would like to see you, though I recommend you wait to make an appointment. There may well be changes made. I am exceedingly put about by his failure to note your trustee following our regulations so precisely. Further, I will open an inquiry as to precisely why you have been left in the dark regarding your finances. Your trustee made a specific request that we accommodate you with an appointment at age eleven. Clearly, someone missed the notice on the board.”

“I’d, er, no idea so much was in my file?” Harry ventured.

“In general, we do not bandy personal files about. In this specific case, I requested access and was granted it by the head of the Accounts department. He is most displeased with his department. He asked me to see to you today in addition to the lineage chart.”

That probably had some significance to goblins, but Harry wasn’t one.

“About Dumbledore as my trustee…” Harry trailed off.

“He has asked us to keep him well out of your spending decisions unless you decide to go on a broom-buying spree. Quite right and proper, as all his actions have been. He has only acted in your best interest.”

“Oh…oh good. Thank you.” Harry hadn’t even considered feeling anxious over his spending until that moment.

A curious glint appeared in the goblin’s eye and he shuffled some papers on his desk.

“There is, of course, the question of access to your maintenance account. Your non-magical guardians refused access on no less than seven occasions and then threatened to have the bank brought up on harassment charges if we continued to owl. Is there anyone who may qualify for it? Your parents, sensibly, wished you to be properly cared for should they be unable. You needn’t reside with whomever you select.”

Harry couldn’t answer for a minute. His mum and dad had…they’d made sure he’d be fed and clothed and housed properly and…he just knew it was Aunt Petunia who’d refused the money. Uncle Vernon would never. Frankly, he couldn’tbreally imagine Aunt Petunia turning down anything like that, unless they wanted to see receipts or something like that.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, please. They’ve had me often enough during the summer holidays that it would be perfectly appropriate.”

He'd known his answer immediately. It was one way Mrs. Weasley might actually accept something…and then they wouldn’t have to stretch to have him stay. Even with the home farm, he knew it was difficult, feeding an unexpected extra person.

“Harry—” Mrs. Weasley started.

Ron gave him a not terribly subtle thumbs up behind her back. They’d talked about it a few times, Ron’s parents refusing any money from Harry.

“You and Mr. Weasley have looked after me more than anyone else, Mrs. Weasley,” he cut her off. “And you’ve made sure I had things to wear that…that fit better and all that. And I trust you.”

She looked a bit misty at that. “If you’re sure. Of course we’ll submit receipts for any amount drawn.”

That was more to the goblin, who looked…perhaps pleased? Harry wasn’t great at parsing the subtleties of human facial expressions sometimes. Goblins completely escaped him.

“Gringotts has no worries the the Prewett Materfamilias will behave any way other than honorably. We will, however, appreciate the receipts and will send you a list of the account’s regulations in the post by tomorrow. Here is the Mark for the account. Ah, and Mr. Potter, you are of an age to carry a Mark as well. It will draw the funds automatically when pressed to the bill of sale. It will only work for you.”

Harry took a solid little seal and cupped it in his hand. The seal plate looked gold plated with a crest embossed in it, and it had a little wooden handle. He’d never had anything like it before.

“Now, if you will all please cease cluttering up my office.”

They knew a dismissal when they heard one. The whole group of them exited, Ron bumping shoulders with him as they made it into the corridor.

“Well, that was a wonderfully successful afternoon,” Mrs Weasley said brightly. “Why don’t we all have a nice tea and then we can tackle the post office.”

“Do you think they could put a redirection on Hermione?” Mr. Granger asked. “We only just saw…what was it…Witch Weekly?”

“Of course,” Mrs Weasley answered. “With what Ron said she received after those horrible articles, I’m certain they’ll oblige. I cancelled my subscription.” She didn’t mention the howler Ron sent her after Easter.

With that, Harry found himself chivvied out of the bank and into the cool of an early Summer evening. Diagon had calmed greatly from the throngs of people buying and selling and window shopping that afternoon. A few couples strolled together, looking slowly into shop windows. Others sat about with ice cream, just watching the world pass by. A harassed-looking young man strode down the street, his boot heels ringing against the cobblestones as he checked his pocket watch.

“How do we get to the post office?” Harry asked.

“We go out the Shaftesbury gate. We’ll be able to pick up an omnibus from there that will take us to the GPO,” Mrs. Weasley said.

“I don’t think the lines connect like that, Molly,” Mrs. Granger frowned.

“Oh, no, they don’t in your London. They do in magical London.”

“I beg your pardon?” Mrs Granger coughed. “Did you—”

“Did you not get the pamphlets?” Mrs Weasley looked dismayed. “Oh dear. Why don’t I explain a bit on the way…and…it’s a late day for the shops. We’ll stop at a bookstore so you can get the proper explanation.”

Curiosity satisfied for the moment, Mrs Weasley led them onward to the post office. Harry wondered what more the week might hold. His head already fairly swam with new ideas and information.

[goldeneyedkim]

The WIP List - Aged WIPs

Okay, so irl is kind of... high stress at the moment, so let's see if I can just bury myself in some writing.

In particular, I'm starting to get super itchy about fics that I haven't finished and keep intending to. Going to start this as a way to kind of keep myself accountable for actually making progress on these things.

On this list:

After the Light - the Stony MCU/Old Guard crossover that was originally a oneshot, I probably should have left a oneshot, and really probably only need one chapter left to finish--just have to decide what to do it with.

The Real Monsters - the Naruto/CM crossover that I originally thought was going to be 5 chapters, and now I'm hoping to just finish in four. My friends all laugh at me when I say I hate Plot and Plot is a four-letter word? This fic is everything I mean about "I hate plot." It has an 8-year-old Naruto and Sasuke, so there is no romance to play off here, it's just actual plot, and fuck me, I hate this so much. Why did I do this to myself? This is a plotfic, and I know the end, but it's how to get there I'm fucking stuck on, and this one has a lot of people who have been very patient. I just want it done.

Boundless - EraserMight soulmate fic I started for-fucking-ever ago. It follows canon very closely, so I just really need to sit down and speed-watch the relevant parts, and just finish the last chapter where they decide that, yes, they want a romantic relationship with one another.

Prepared to Sacrifice - Ugh... this one has one or two chapters left, maybe, and I'm already 2k into the next one, it's just a very particular type of headspace to write, and I'm having trouble figuring out how to finish it off. I was going to write a sequel but that's almost certainly not going to happen, so the final chapter might just be the opening chapter of the sequel I wrote. It would work as an open-ended epilogue. So just need to finish the damn thing.

A Dragon Among the Ashes - a DekuBaku slavefic that I started for a big bang a while ago and... realized in the middle of writing it that I don't actually like BakuDeku enough to make them the center feature of anything more than a short fic. Like, I do ship them in the lowkey, background way that I kind of feel like "this is basically a good as canon" for a lot of things, and I include them as a background ship a lot, but... Shouto has become my blorbo, and if it's not focused around him, ugh, it's a struggle. I really just need to finish the last damn chapter.

Fireworks and Warnings probably belongs on this list. I probably need to just figure out an end and write it. It's been on hiatus for like 3 years. *sigh*

Basis for Human Hope - Gundam Wing omegaverse fic with 13x2 (yes, you read that right) and endgame 5x2. I need to see if I can remember how to write short stuff and see if I can crunch this one down. I'm, uh, just noticing how many hits that fic has (relative to most GW fic lately), and... yeah, should work on that next chapter.

On the Things Not Posted But I Really Should Work On:

Sequel to my EdRoy darkfic - dealing with the fallout of Ed being mated against his will, for public spectacle no less, and also being knocked up. If I could knock this out in 20k, I'd be delighted. I... uh, have no such faith it's going to be under 30k.

Sequel to my consensual bitching DekuTodo fic - This one has actually been started. I'm, like, over 2k into it (might be more), but uh, kind of missing the endgame here. Probably should just be Shouto having the baby (babies? I honestly don't remember what I was planning), so this should be relatively (I know, I know, don't laugh) short.

Firsts series - This is the high on the list to immediately finish. I started this idea way back when writing Stand Without Flinching. Since finishing the Stars That Have People Names mainfics, this is literally the last piece of the series I plan on writing, and I have had the worst time making myself work on it. I finally kicked my ass into gear last night, and got about 3.5k written on it, and two more of the 5 "firsts" written. That makes 3/6 done, three more to go, and 2 are smutty (which are usually easy, I just really was not in a mood to write smut last night). I really, really want to put this series to bed and mark it complete, so I think this is going to be the next one on the list.

All right--and of WIPs that are not on this list:

Surviving the Fire - weekly updates on this one, and I tend to be very good at keeping to a strict schedule. Next chapter of this hits today. Not a concern.

If You Have Been Brutally Broken - on a schedule, every other Wednesday, I also have at least a couple more chapters pre-written, so hopefully by the time I'm live writing this one, I'm done with Surviving. I love this fic, and I'm excited to force myself to finish it.

A Bun in a Hidden Oven - I basically have it finished. I can add another chapter; we'll see if I bother. No concern here.

When You're Married and No One Told You - this has always been open-ended, and I'll add to it if/when I get the inspo.

To Be Alpha - this is the BakuTodo alpha quirk fic. I have no damn idea where I'm going with it. I'd like to move it up to the WIP list but it's been sitting where it is for years b/c I'm stuck and I disclaimed that when I posted it.

Beware of Alphas - NaruSasu omegaverse. I love the idea of this world (where alphas are locked out of society), but mostly going to see if I find fun prompts to keep it going. Low pressure, as inpso hits.

Okay, now that I've wasted time typing all that up--let's go write. Surviving is due today, so it gets first priority. We'll see what else I get done after that.

[outpost51]

Happy WBW!

Tell me one of the details of your world building that makes you the most excited! What do you want to talk about the most?

Happy WBW!!!!

Well, I’ve talked about the vampire council — how about where the vampires came from?

When a mommy bat loves a daddy bat very much—

Just kidding, follow me!!

SO!! Vampires were Oopsied into existence by angels — “But Kobbl I thought angels were Life’s children!!” You are correct! But pobody’s nerfect in this world, not even the goddesses, they all live and love and fuck up and sometimes they do a bit of all three.

If you recall I’m being so pretentious asdfasds, there are four “levels” of fallen: parvia, mediocri, indigni, and nefasi. And as I’ve said before, only three angels have ever become nefasi, and only one has survived getting booted off the Edge (hard to fly when they’ve ripped off your wings): Phada, one of the vigilisi. She was patrolling the Veil when she came across what she thought was a half dead human woman being dragged through the Veil by imps — angels aren’t supposed to interfere with living humans, humans get burned or sick or worse, but it was Phada’s job to prevent Abominations from crossing the Veil, and a human dying on Their Side was a surefire way of making one, so they could… forgive this interference, right? Her mother is curatori, so she’s bound to have some of that healing in her, just enough to get the girl back on her feet so she can run.

Fun fucking fact. You know how when indigni (violent offenses, third “worst” fallen, subjective) are cast out, their wings are shredded and they’re left for dead at the border? They look pretty damn human when laying on their backs.

Fun fact numero second. Ever wonder what happens when a fallen drinks from an angel? BAD SHIT. BAD SHIT HAPPENS, PHADA.

Isri (the indigni in question) got her wings back! Oops!! And then went on a rampage! Double oops!! And then Miss Bleeding Heart, in an effort to fix her fuckup, went after her! Triple oops!! She’s not supposed to leave her fucking patrol!! She’s supposed to call the praesti!! So Isri has herself a fucking FEAST in a nearby village, and Phada — y’all know Phada, our “hero” — manages to behead her with a shovel stop her just in time to leave one (1) person mostly alive.

Fun fact letter 3. Remember how angels aren’t supposed to interfere with living humans? How they get burned or sick or worse? Yeah, this falls under “or worse”. So the girl — Josseline, if you’re wondering — “survives” her injuries thanks to Captain My-Mom-Is-Curatori and gets elevated to not-quite divinity, hovering somewhere between angels and Something Else.

Of course, being a good little cloudbaby, Phada went home and fessed up, hoping that admitting what had happened would—

Yeah, she got about halfway through “so the body was an indigni” when the Seven (imperatori, they’re the angel judges) were like:

… and dragged her kicking and screaming to the Edge. Her wings hang above the central seat in the hall of justice as an example — Altael (imperatori primus, that’s his chair her wings hang above) loves telling that story.

Phada survived her fall and vanished into the Wilds (the place where even Outlands residents refuse to go).

Josseline found herself a town to rule over, Tagnan, and unintentionally Turned the governor’s wife, Sophie; Josseline didn’t quite drain her all the way, because Sophie fought back and got Josseline’s blood in her mouth.

Friends, Romans, countrymen— that is our first bloodline. Sang-d’origine.

“But what about the other twelve bloodlines!!” Haaaaa about that.

See, angels are busy making New Shiny Souls and keeping the Holy Holding Tank and patrolling the Veil, someone has to deal with the Icky Nasty Corrupted Souls that get stuck on the humans’ side. Enter Death’s cleanup crew: demons. They eat the Icky Nasties. But angels got to make a new Thing!! What if we made a new thing also!! Well one of ‘em figured out the Vampire Formula and made the Phystrokhi — our first daywalkers. (Lightsiders, they call themselves).

The Fae are just greedy little shits. Some Unseelie asshole worked out the Vampire Formula and made the first Darksiders: the Shadow Watch. And if the Unseelie get something, the Seelie are petulant until they Also get that Thing. Enter the Midnight Descendants.

And shit spiraled from there!! There was a fucking vampire-werewolf war!! There are dhampires now!! This is why we can’t have anything nice!! PHADA.

[blnk338]

If he uses twitter to help build the ai this will be undoubtedly the most unfathomable right wing shit I've ever seen. The racism homophobia sexism *caugh* neoliberalism *caugh* unmatched... you don't even have to dig deep into twitter to see the most brain dead opinions humankind has ever seen. This will be absolutely unbearable (part of me is curious just how bad it will be)

This just in! White South African billionaire Elon Musk denies being benefitted by his father's emerald mine and the apartheid! *crowd gasps* He claims not only to have made Tesla himself, but also, to have designed the cars! *crowd yells in rage* but wait, dear listeners, sit tight, quiet up and listen down-- he actually faked his degree! *crowd gasps once more, this time, with less shock* that is correct, dear listeners! Elon Musk not only used Papa's money to buy Nikola Tesla's company, cars, and team but then whined and cried when people found out! Oh, merry fellows and fraulines, and those either-or or neither in between, did you not hear? *the crowd yells no* Why-- Elon hasn't actually made anything ever! He steals designs from his engineers and claims them as his own, then cries and cries when people bring it up! *the crowd is beginning to see a pattern* but wait! There's more! with a history of SA, he attempted to pay off a woman with a pony! yes! A pony! oh but don't worry, his endless trifles seemed yet to wane-- his factories are well known for being rampant with racism and-- hark?-- it appears monsieur Musk indulges in the topic himself! dost thou remember in the early days (oh, we were so tender then, weren't we?) when he originally purchased the blue bird's centre for a mere FORTY-FOUR BILLION GOLD PIECES, that he actually, in his effort to "make humor legal again" pumped the use of the n-slur up by 500%? *the crowd screams in horror!* oh, but don't worry, he has even more under his belt! *the crowd begins to shift uncomfortably* dear listeners and watchers from the beyond, have you no mercy for this poor fellow? he only named his child an incomprehensible name, and deadnames and misgenders his children to the point of where they don't want to contact him-- but happy father's day, right? oh yes, yes, he is the greatest father of them all! *the crowd continues to be uneased* Lest I am boring you, there do be more. have you heard of him removing likes from his bird app *the crowd whines, sick of his shit* yes! yes! yes! its true! after renaming it to a stupid letter (one of which he attempted to do to several other brands he has owned, but was actually kicked out of 'paypal' for such a stupid idea), he intends to remove the ability to see likes so the users don't know he's liking tweets of eugenics, pedophillia, racism, and-- you guessed it-- conservative politicians gloating about their oppressive laws! *the crowd screams* yes! yes! yes!

so, dear listeners, the time is nigh for change, but perhaps, you may realize, that he is actually quite killing himself! years and years of him hiding himself behind mummy and daddy (which it was actually noted that elon himself was quite the devil in his childhood, bullying other children then playing the victim) have failed him, and his disgusting ichor is bubbling to the surface. once he finally runs himself out of money, do not pity the man who burned your village, but instead, throw him in the fire.

THANK Y OU DEAR LISTENERS FOR LISTENING TO TONIGHT'S EPISODE OF WHICH BILLIONARIE SUCKS [Right now!]! HINT HINT, IT'S ALL OF THEM! TUNE IN NEXT WEEK FOR [The] BEST, [The] BRIGHTEST, [The] MOST FANTASTICEST, TALK ON THAT DING DAMN SUBARINE [[Home-made boat-viewing machine]] AT [The] BOTTOM OF [The] OCEAN!

[charlesjosephwrites]

Find the Words

Got tagged for another round of my favorite tag game! Thank so much @dogmomwrites!

I'll tag @thewritersplace, @junypr-camus, and anyone else who sees this and wants to share some snippets of their wips with the words layer, pure, circle, and stubborn. As always, no pressure, though!

My words were press, broken, combine, and unconscious, so without further ado, here are some snippets from my wip The Magician and Ms. Psychic.

PRESS

I took a deep breath, and I smoothed down the front of my skirt with both hands. “How do I look?” She brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, and she pressed a quick kiss to my cheek. “As beautiful as ever.” By this point, I was certain that my face was about the same shade of red as a fire truck, but I managed to push aside my nerves with a little laugh and a lighthearted murmur of, “Ha, gay.” Claire’s grin widened. “You know it.”

BROKEN

An invisible force slammed into me right as I tried to take a step forwards to address Ms. Psychic, knocking me flat on my ass. I drew in a shaky breath, and I patted my chest a couple of times just to make sure that nothing was broken. I gritted my teeth, and I slowly pulled myself to my feet. With a flick of my wrist, a knife appeared in my hand. I wheeled around to give Ms. Psychic as piece of my mind, but she was too focused on whatever quiet conversation she was having with Hermes. My shoulders rose and fell rapidly, and I popped a bit closer so that I could wedge myself between them. “Excuse me,” I said. “What the fuck? You never interrupt a villain right before their big monologue. That’s rude.”

COMBINE

“Oh, don’t worry about that brat. I’ve got a plan.” I clapped my hands together excitedly. “Well… part of a plan. The beginning of a plan.” “Yeah?” Myles shifted in their seat to face me better. “And what’s that?” “Well…” I inhaled sharply. “Okay, so I don’t actually have a plan, but I’m sure we can wing it after we kidnap the mayor.” They covered their mouth with their hand as they laughed. My face grew hot, and I crossed my arms. Thoughts spiraled through my head, ready to pick out just the right combination of four letter words to use to get them to shut the fuck up, but— “Okay, sure,” Myles managed in the midst their little giggle-fit. “I’m in.”

UNCONCIOUS

A chill crept up my spine, and my hands unconsciously curled up into tight little fists as my brain finally caught up to what was going on. “Ms. Psychic!” My voice came out about twice as loud as I had intended, echoing off the high ceilings in an effect that might have sounded all cool and dramatic if I wasn’t so damn irritated. “What the actual fuck?” Ms. Psychic appeared behind the cops, cape flowing behind her in the non-existent wind and her hair flowing around her face all wave-like. She regarded me with her usual deep frown and disappointed squint, but she offered no explanation for her bullshit. I stepped forwards to point my knife at her. “I told you to come alone.”

[monochromaticbeans]

Chapter 18: Dog Days

(Spoilers for"A Letter From Baji Keisuke")

The dog days are over, oh

The dog days are done.

“Dog Days Are Over” ~ Florence + the Machine 

It was a bright, clear Saturday afternoon in early June, and Shibuya was buzzing with the usual hum of summer. Heat radiated off the pavement, driving everyone toward whatever patches of shade they could find along the tree-lined sidewalks. Baji and Hikari strolled side by side with Pochi, Pah’s Afghan hound, leading the way. The dog’s long, luxurious fur gleamed in the sunlight as he bounded ahead, nose twitching at every new smell. Baji’s arm, finally cast-free after weeks of healing, flexed as he held the leash.

“Look at him,” Baji grumbled, though there was an unmistakable fondness in his voice. “He’s like a damn tornado on four legs.”

Hikari laughed, watching Pochi dart back and forth, his long, silky ears flapping like little wings as he ran. “You’re the one who agreed to dog-sit, Keisuke. I seem to recall you telling Pah that it’d be ‘easy.’”

“Yeah, well,” Baji muttered. “Easy, my ass. He’s dragging me halfway across the city.” He couldn't help but chuckle.

Hikari just laughed, her hands slipping into her pockets as she watched him struggle to keep up with the overenthusiastic dog. “Come on, future Dr. Baji, veterinarian extraordinaire. Isn't this great practice for you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, grinning. It felt good to be back to normal—or as normal as life ever got in Toman.

As they turned a corner, two familiar figures came into view: Chifuyu and Ryusei, who was halfway through teasing him about something, though his expression shifted as soon as he noticed Pochi.

“Ah, shit,” Ryusei muttered, his eyes widening. “Is– is that… a dog?” His voice went up an octave as his gaze locked onto the dog, who had noticed him as well and was now bounding toward him with uncontained excitement.

“Oh, come on, Ryusei,” Hikari called out, barely holding back a grin. “He’s sweet! He just wants to say hi!”

But Ryusei was already backing away, his face pale. “Sweet? That thing’s a wooly goddamn mammoth! I’m not getting anywhere near it!” He cast a panicked look at Chifuyu. “Catch you later, Chifuyu! I just remembered, I like living!”

Before anyone could stop him, Ryusei was gone, disappearing around the corner faster than Baji could blink.

“He’s really afraid of dogs?” Baji asked, raising an eyebrow at the retreating Ryusei.

“Apparently,” Chifuyu replied with a smirk, slipping his phone into his pocket as he stepped forward to greet them. “I guess it's like his kryptonite.”

Hikari stifled a laugh, shaking her head. “Poor Ryusei.”

“Poor Ryusei, my ass,” Chifuyu chuckled. He turned to Baji. “Good to see you out of that cast. Arm all good now?”

“Yup.” Baji flexed his arm for emphasis. “Healed up and ready to go. In fact, I was just thinking it’s time to put it to good use.”

Just as the words left his mouth, a familiar yet unfamiliar duo wandered into view. Hikari snorted lightly as she stifled a laugh, elbowing Keisuke as she nodded toward the two guys approaching. “Get a load of those two. Are they for real?”

Baji squinted at them, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. “The hell?”

Chifuyu glanced over his shoulder at ‘Mikey and Draken’ propping each other up, gasping for breath after Ryusei insisted that Mikey and Draken always go for a long run after eating an impossibly huge meal. He couldn't understand why even an irreverent little shit like Ryusei would act so nonchalantly with his commander and vice commander. Seeing Hikari and Baji struggling to keep it together baffled him even further. 

Hikari clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from bursting into laughter. “Oh my god,” she whispered, barely containing her amusement. “They’re like… counterfeit knockoff versions. Like when you order something online and it shows up looking all wonky.”

They walked like they were trying to look tough, but it was all wrong. Not-Draken’s “braid” looked like someone glued a rope to his head, and Not-Mikey’s attempt at swagger came off as more of a waddle. Hikari bit back a laugh as they finally looked up and froze, their faces going pale.

These weren't just some random bystanders. It was Baji Keisuke, Captain of Toman’s First Division, and Todawa Hikari, ‘Toman’s Princess,’ as she was known to the rival gangs. And they're both founding members, and well-known to be close friends with the real Mikey and Draken.

Not-Draken’s hand flew to his head, nervously pulling on his fake braid as if it would somehow save him. “S-shit, man, we’re screwed,” he muttered under his breath, his voice shaky.

Not-Mikey, looking less like a fearless gang leader and more like a bucktoothed deer caught in headlights, barely managed to stammer out a greeting. “Uh… H-hey there… uh…”

“Hey, guys,” Hikari greeted them, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “How’s it goin’?”

Baji’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. “So, you’re the wannabe Mikey and Draken, huh? Going around, mugging people, causing trouble?”

“N-no! That’s not—uh, we didn’t mean—” Not-Mikey waved his hands frantically.

“You’ve got some nerve,” Baji continued, his voice taking on a dangerous edge, though the playful gleam in his eye never wavered. “I think I need to teach you a little lesson about what happens when you impersonate my friends.”

Hikari couldn’t hold back anymore. She was cracking up, almost doubled over with laughter. “I’m sorry, I just can't… It's too goddamn funny!”

Chifuyu now understood why Ryusei seemed to be having such fun earlier. These idiots aren't really the commander and vice commander. Becoming amused by the whole thing, he chuckled and shook his head.

The two fakes took a hesitant step back, their eyes darting between Baji, Hikari, and Chifuyu clearly weighing their options of how to get out of this as unscathed as possible.

Baji rolled his shoulders, loosening up as a devilish grin stretched across his face. “You know what? Kicking your asses is the perfect way to celebrate my arm being healed.”

Not-Draken gulped audibly, his eyes darting toward his equally terrified partner. “Uh… maybe we should—”

But before he could finish his sentence, Baji took a step forward, and both imposters turned and bolted down the street, their panicked yells echoing in the air.

Baji chuckled, smirking as he watched them flee. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Aw, I wanted to make them sweat it out a little more,” Hikari bemoaned playfully, still laughing. “You spoiled the fun.”

Chifuyu scoffed, still chuckling. “No wonder you and Ryusei seem to get along so well. You're both the same.”

“When it comes to the sheer enjoyment of busting people's chops, yeah.” She wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes and gave an exaggerated sigh. She hadn't laughed that hard in quite a while.

“If chop-busting was an Olympic sport, they'd both take the gold,” Baji chuckled. His gaze lingered on her a moment longer than he meant it to, the warmth of her laugh sticking with him.

Chifuyu crossed his arms, clearly enjoying the show. “Think they’ll stick to impersonating random nobodies from now on?”

“If they know what’s good for them,” Baji replied, still grinning. “But if they don’t, I’ll be happy to give ’em a round two.”

Hikari laughed, giving Keisuke a playful nudge. Her hand rested on his shoulder just a bit longer than usual, a warmth that spread through him. “Happy to see you back in action. That arm looks great.”

Baji’s grin softened as he looked at her. “Better than great.”

As they turned to continue their walk, Pochi barked excitedly, wagging his tail as if he’d enjoyed the whole spectacle. Baji chuckled, glancing over at Hikari. Her laughter still hung in the air, light and warm, and the feel of her hand on his shoulder lingered. Happy to see you’re back in action.

Yeah, he thought, glancing at her with a quiet smile. Back in action.