#i love stories that loop and point to themselves

[ishestillapunk]

Everybody Wants A Piece Of Pedro Pascal

tags: grief, death.

a/n: it was so hard to write all this and not kick my sheets because of the whole photoshoot. he's beautiful.

I don't usually do this, well, I never done this, but today and after waking up to such a brilliant, raw and profound interview I see myself in the need of disecting piece by piece of this interview and the parts that touched a deep fiber in me.

You, of course, don't have to read this. I mean, not if you don't want to. I would say this is more mine than other thing, like, a precious stone I want to keep memory of how I felt when this article came out.

Don't you ever get that feeling that something is yours? like, not in a delulu and possesive way, but in a sort of thank you-way.

This interview—article, post. Damn, I don't know how to call it, forgive my scarce vocabulary in English—appeared like water in the desert for me. I had a long night of insomnia, very long, used to deal with it, and also with it came the lovely question that every 20 yo makes themselves at one point.

What the fuck am I doing with my damn life.

My phone buzzes when I finally decide to let go of it so I grab it again, and there it is. Our beloved pascalispunk. Oh, he looks hella good. I say looking at the pictures. Oh, it's Vanity Fair. I say and then, I think: Of course there is an interview. So I look up for it.

I read and then the first thing that moves my chest is:

Over lunch in London, Pascal is a grand raconteur who tells stories with his hands and uses funny voices and loves to swear and drink cocktails and murder a cheese plate. He doesn’t take himself too seriously. At the same time, he’ll press right up against the sad and raw and confusing parts of being alive. His insides are on his outsides. He cries easily. He laughs loudly.

Maybe it's the writing, maybe it's me that lately I've been overly sensitive. It must've been the wind. I joke in my head when I feel like I want to cry. Something I love deeply about this man that is Pedro, is that he never stops being human. You get me, right? Like, with some celebrities I get the kinda... fake feeling. Don't wanna sound rude towards others at all, but, he just gives me that genuine and true feeling. That's what I mean by human.

Personally, I never been a fan of an actor before. A celebrity, in general. It just used to ick me, like, why would I do that? I had nothing against it, it just wasn't part of my persona. But then, I remember the first time coming across a video of him. I guess, yeah. Maybe we all want a piece of Pedro.

Pascal tells me about his “give up” years, when he was a struggling actor in New York decimated by the sudden death of his beloved mother, Verónica.

I felt connected truly with Pedro when I learnt about his life. The struggle and loss. That feeling that nothing is going anywhere, you know? Like. Damn, what is it all this for? I kinda feel like humans (or some of us, dk, mind you) have to search comparisions to other people to feel okay on where they are at the moment and its something that lately has been happening to me. My search is literally:

'Directors that got succesful at an old age'

'How to publish my first book while being fucking poor'

'How do I live'

Is this non-stopping loop where everything mixes with everything and I feel too exhausted to leave my bed. Ends won't meet. Food lacks in the fridge. Mama is sad. But he has been in the same spot, and he's here to tell it.

Life hurts a bit less.

“In my 30s I was supposed to have a career,” he says. “Past 29 without a career meant that it was over, definitely.” Feeling hopeless, Pascal started researching other professions. But whenever he came close to bailing on his dream, friends and family would step in. “When Pedro would say, ‘I’m going to nursing school’ or ‘I’m going to be a theater teacher,’ it was just like ‘No, no, no, no! You’re too good!’” says his older sister, Javiera Balmaceda, now a producer at Amazon Studios. “He’s wanted to be an actor since he was four years old. The one thing we’d never allow Pedro to do was give up.”

And here it is. The first tears I shed.

I dropped out of college after a month in a course of studies that I thought it was perfect for me. Turns out, I felt like I was dying because there was no art in it and I was fucking dying. It was driving me apart of my soul, I would cry on my way to class, I would have no very very happy thoughts about life. Then, a crisis. Me hugging my mom's knees and telling her "Mama, I need art" and she sees me, the girl who only went to arts school for her whole teen years and grew up attached to her desk computer, pirated movies in the night and writing down stories that keep her awake.

And she told me. "It's okay. We'll figure it out"

I was embarrased to tell my friends what I did after that crisis. God, you went through a freaking exam, burnt your lashes studying, passed it and now you're saying you want to do cinema?

Well. Nobody said that.

What I mostly received was.

"That's awesome. You were about to waste your potential"

And something that sticks with me that a friend said.

"The world deserves to see something created by you".

If you're reading this, I want you and oblige you to take it as a signal.

 A New Yorker cartoon featured a therapist reassuring his client, “It’s not strange at all—lately, a lot of people are reporting that their faith in humanity is riding entirely on whether or not Pedro Pascal is as nice as he seems.” “Well, then,” Ramsey tells me, “I’m relieved for humanity.”

Bella. I love you, Bella.

On days when she (Veronica) didn’t have a babysitter, she’d drop him off at the movie theater. He remembers being seven and in heaven, able to squeeze in two and a half showings of Poltergeist before his mom returned for him. At home he’d reenact scenes of being sucked into the closet or slide across the kitchen floor. Balmaceda tells me, “When our parents got cable, the HBO song would come on and Pedro would run around the house yelling, ‘A movie is coming! A movie is coming!’” [...]He sat at a distance from his family as usual, preferring to be close to the screen. But then he started crying so loudly when Whoopi Goldberg’s Celie was being separated from her sister that his mother had to collect him and help him catch his breath outside. 

When he talks about his childhood memories, I become honey. It gives me the assertive feeling that he is the kind of person that talks and talks and talks, and tells and tells stories and never run off them, and never gets boring, and they are always sweet (or bittersweet but sweet in the end)

He makes me think about my childhood with another lens to look through. Less remorse. More a kind of let-go-of-it.

Drugs were everywhere. Pascal remembers being 16 and taking acid and calling his mother to check in and let her know he was going to spend the night out. “And she sighs and goes, ‘Oh.’ And that was not normal. And I was like ‘Wh-why?’ and she said, ‘Oh, no, I was just hoping that we would all go to a movie.’ I was just so drawn to that kind of maternal attention, so I said, ‘I’m coming!’” He rushed home and sat mute and paralyzed, tripping in the back seat as they drove to see John Sayles’s City of Hope.

yes, more tears over here.

“I was having a really hard time when I was 18, 19, 20,” Pascal tells me. “I was struggling really badly with insomnia. I was reading James Baldwin and watching movies like Once Were Warriors and Muriel’s Wedding. I just was like an open wound to the reality of life.” He pauses to smack the table with his hand, groaning and laughing at himself. “It sounds so fucking pretentious, but I felt at this crossroads of coming into an understanding of what an unjust world we live in. This world, and its lack of equanimity, is just too painful to bear. How do you live in it?”

This is the moment where I had to stop reading. I was literally a cascade at this point. I felt like that song Killing me softly with his song by The Fugees and the part that goes:

I felt he found my letters

Then read each one out loud

I prayed that he would finish

But he just kept right on

I felt like he just grabbed all my diaries, my letters, my notes on my laptop. Everything. And just read them out loud.

And I felt less lonely for a moment, less detached from reality. More grounded to this moment that is, maybe, a wake up call.

That there is still time.

His grief had no place in Los Angeles, with its isolating highways and traffic and sprawl. So he went home to New York City, where he’d made some headway as an actor after college, only to find that his early luck had run out. He lived in a seventh-floor apartment of an East Village walk-up. Every night he’d have a cigarette on his fire escape and watch the moon rise between the Twin Towers.

Suicide grief is something I've never had the opportunity—well, more like favour of spilling my guts out for once—to talk with anyone. I went through it alone, mostly. I always think that there is no place as lonely as oneselves head (is oneselve's a word? am I dealing already with the precious side effects of twenty years of insomnia?). Reading Pedro talking about grief is ligthening.

I use to make myself a question, every now and then:

'When does it stop?'

Maybe never. And it's okay.

"Listen, I want to protect the people I love. But it goes beyond that. Bullies make me fucking sick.”

Just wanted to highlight this. Everyone should have this kind of values.

In the car, Pascal gasps and points out the window. “Look at that cemetery, isn’t it gorgeous?” he says. He doesn’t want to be buried—just throw him in the ocean. “Fish food, fish food, fish food,” he says. “And yet, I find sometimes cemeteries are so beautiful.” So, yes, now we’re back to talking about death.

In the car to Downey’s house, Pascal points at the word “FAITH,” which someone has spray-painted on a wall. He scrunches up his face in mock disgust. He’s agnostic, practically an atheist—and yet. “I still feel like I’m being mothered sometimes. I feel her witness all around me. I don’t feel like any of this right now would be happening if it weren’t for her.” There was something magical about María Verónica Pascal Ureta. Her firstborn son misses everything about her. Her beauty. Her smell. How funny she was, and how funny she found farts. “She couldn’t get past a fart of any kind without it absolutely destabilizing her into hysterics,” says Pascal. “She thought they were the most brilliant, hilarious, wonderful thing in the world.” She was also “very deep-feeling, very complex, very, very out of reach in a way,” he adds.

I tell you that I did nothing more than laugh and cry with all this part. Is that kind of make peace with death vibe that he sometimes gives me and I just take as a life advice.

I can't get mad at something that is long gone.

That I don't know the answers to.

That is as invisible as the air, and painful as a healed fracture.

And that I have to live, for those who aren't here anymore.

So... I will finish with this:

Of all the performances in Pascal’s now formidable career, Balmaceda singles out the monologue she saw him deliver as a sophomore in high school. It was a piece Pascal had written about a bike path near their house in Corona del Mar, a neighborhood he couldn’t wait to escape. Onstage, he described how, at first, he’d cross this narrow path that went over a bridge on foot, then progressed to riding over it gingerly on his bike, then with just one hand on his handlebars, and then, finally, being able to cross over with his hands in the air.

I can't wait to escape this place. A home that keeps me warm but silences me. Hugs that don't feel comfortable or familiar anymore. A room that is too little for the dreams that move this soul. A roof that isn't strong enough to hold me from touching what it's-maybe-waiting for me.

Somewhere.

Kudos to Karen Valby for such a great article.

if someone read this whole thing, uhm, thank you!

keep loving Peps. 💜

[bluejayadler]

Thoughts on this post?

https://www.tumblr.com/do-be-careful-charles/786662921427206144?source=share

I thought it was fascinating and and fun and would love to hear someone else's thoughts on it.

Parallels!

So I received this ask in my inbox from an anonymous human, and it has given me an excuse to talk about parallels!

Now, the OP mentions Edwin being paralleled with Wilfred, the WWI ghost, and Charles being paralleled with Hope Devlin. But someone in the tags also brings up Crystal with Esther and Niko with Mick. So we're gonna look at all the Core 4 and their parallels.

Parallels are used in narrative and storytelling for a few different reasons. Largely its to compare or contrast two points or things - two parallel scenes might show progression along an arc, two parallel characters might show diverging character arcs or converging character arcs - loss of self of one character, reclamation of identity, the fall, the rise! So many things. 

Edwin to WW1 ghost - this was a fate he could've had, but the sad thing is, that even though he escaped this fate, he really didn't. WWI and WWII battlefields, like most warzones, were described as Hell. Edwin died the year the draft was initiated. Sure, he wasn't old enough yet, but he may have still ended up drafted soon enough. Edwin actual death involved him being sacrificed to Hell - figurative or literal hell, no autonomy or agency in ending up there. Edwin's parallel is essentially a reflection. Also consider that there would've been a good chance he died MIA or ended up buried as an unknown soldier. Edwin may have been lost the No Man's Land and Hell just as easily. He didn't really "escape" this parallel fate but rather endured a more twisted version of it.

Charles to Hope - again, this is a fate Charles could've had but still basically did, in a twisted way. Hope tries to leave home and is murdered before she can. Charles does leave home, off to boarding school, but still ends up murdered. You'd have to wonder if Charles saw Hope and thought, just for a second, "even if she left, nothing would've changed" because, that was the truth for him. He escaped and then didn't. The fact is, either fate would've left him murdered by someone meant to care for him and protect him, someone he was meant to trust. And I don't think Charles would've found any more justice if he'd been killed by his own father. Child abuse is grossly under investigated, and even when it is, is very under-punished. Charles's father may not have received any real punishment, if he got caught at all. If anyone even cared.

I think the big thing for me with the boys and their parallels is that they both still essentially had their fated death! But also, them having their parallel in front of them fits so well with the themes of justice and "we didn't matter". Parallels in story telling serve a few different purposes - usually around comparing and contrasting. Often its holding a character up against an older or younger version of themselves (either literal version of themself or just representative/figurative version) and saying "this is what you could become" or "this is what you could've been". With Charles and Edwin, its oddly both or kinda neither. Sorry, I should be asleep. These are what they could've been and, at the same time, what they could become - Charles could become trapped in a loop of his own pain (and he kinda does) and Edwin could be cursed to forever live through that Hell again (which, again, kinda almost happens). Edwin and Charles both "escaped" that parallel outcome, but not really. 

But their parallel is less about comparison to me, and more about the theme of justice. Again, parallels can be used for different things. In the case of Edwin and Charles, I think it helps highlight a core theme of the show.

Going back to the "we didn't matter" scene (amazing scene) - Edwin says "we didn't matter, so these cases matter. They have to matter." And I think this is what their parallels more play towards. Edwin and Charles come face to face with their parallels, but they are able to give those parallel ghosts something they didn't get - some level of justice or closure. And its not perfect by any shot of the imagination. Charles and Edwin don't PREVENT tragedy, just like no one prevented theirs. Given how against taking a living client Edwin is in ep 1, it's easy to imagine they do it VERY rarely, so unless they are hired by a ghost to save someone, they are coming in AFTER the tragedy occurs. That is also the nature of a detective who usually investigates AFTER the tragedy. The boys aren't preventing their parallels but they are allowing the next part of the story to be different. They see the parallel in their cases, some as strong as Hope and Wilfred, and others as not. But they don't leave their parallel in the same place. They step in - something that wasn't done for them.

And its interesting how they interact with these parallels - or rather, with each others parallels. Charles is the one that steps in with Wilfred. He offers him closure in that moment. And this makes sense for his character - Charles is the more positive one, the more social one. It tracks he'd be the one focused on that while Edwin was focused on leaving before the blue light came. But, Charles is also the one that offers Edwin safety too, the way Edwin offered it to him. Charles, in that moment, becomes to Wilfred what Edwin was for him in the attic - paralleling the moment of his own death and the arrival of his own blue light. In the Devlin house, Charles can't act. He tries but gets stuck in the loop. The same way Edwin was stuck in his loop in Hell - unable to escape the Doll House. Edwin pulls Charles from that loop, by destroying the tape and actually, with the help of Crystal, physically pulling Charles up off the floor. This is paralleled when Charles pulls Edwin out of Hell. Because, the Devlin house, seeing his own parallel and being unable to stop it, would've been figurative Hell for Charles. So, their parallel ghosts aren't even JUST about them separate but them together and their entire afterlife purpose. Its not just "what could've been" but "what can we make it", which is not a common use for parallels, least, not that I can think of.

So yeah, the boys' parallels are AMAZING! But the post I was sent included Crystal paralleled with Esther and Niko with Tragic Mick. So, lets look at that.

Cause, DBDa has a LOT of parallels, which I love. They have scenes that parallel each other and characters that parallel each other, and its fascinating. But focus, focus on just the Core 4.

Crystal and Niko fall more into the traditional comparison type parallels - the younger character paralleled against an older version of themself and "what you could become" motif.

Crystal and Esther - I touched on them a little bit during a previous NGL where someone asked if I thought Crystal was getting through to Esther during the final fight. Crystal and Esther parallel amazingly. They both are women who were wronged - betrayed in some way by people they loved who were meant to love them. They both turned to some power to protect themselves, specifically taking the route of power to keep others from hurting them, even if it meant hurting others first. Esther is the most obvious, but Crystal does this - the mean girl mentality hurting her friends emotionally, giving people nightmares, and the whole making someone walk into traffic! Add to this that both Esther and Crystal get their power from a similar place. I mean, Crystal's is her own, but it is strengthened by her ancestors. A female ancestral source. Esther gets her from Lilith, the first woman and goddess of wronged women. They both turn to this source as some point. And this is where they branch and they do it in a way I enjoy. Because, Crystal doesn't go all the way down the same route as Esther, even though she starts down that path. She stops. Her memories are gone. She doesn't remember being hurt. She knows she has the power to get what she wants and do what she wants. And she does - she helps. She finds Becky. She finds connection! Crystal is lost and alone and could use her powers to take, but instead, she uses them to help. And when she fully reconnects with her ancestors, her first act, is to save others. I like how her's is handled, because she never has an explicit "this is who I could become" moment, which, I've seen a lot of. This idea that either the character or the audience needs to parallel to be explicitly written out for them. But the audience doesn't. We can see Crystal struggling with herself, her past actions and current decisions and how to use her power in a way that helps without hurting, including herself. When she calls on Esther's pain and shares her own, she's calling out that parallel. She had a moment like Esther, and she chose to do better. But she isn't explicitly comparing herself or saying "I don't want to become you." The sentiment and arc are there and the show manages to tell it without having to explicitly write it out. I like this, because this is more real to me. Which, yes, I'm saying "more real" while referring to a sow with ghosts and demons and witches. But, DBDa does an amazing job ay making the characters and the arcs very human. If you think about all the big scenes people talk about - they're all human scenes. Like, human connection. The big scenes are huge set pieces or explosion or huge moments of action. They're focused on the humanity of the characters. And, in our life, we will probably see parallels to ourselves, but we often don't get the chance or have the foresight to think "this is what I could become or what I could've been" - not in a moment where that change it possible. Often, its unseen things and small choices that we make that get us there. We may have the idea someone in our mind, like Crystal, but Crystal didn't change because she looked at Esther. She changed because the let herself care and she found support and connection and wanted to be better than who she was before. Crystal does parallel Esther, and we as the audience get to see what Crystal could've become, but she changed for herself and for the people she came to care about. This is why I love her parallel in the show. 

And now, we have Niko. And Niko gets another fun dual parallel, like the boys, but not exactly. Niko, I think, parallels Tragic Mick very well. Tragic Mick is cursed - living an isolated life, unable to return home. Niko, when we meet her, is just the same. And neither of them chose it. Tragic Mick was "sent away" by his mother, a punishment essentially for wonder. He was curious. He wanted to know about people. But his mother was hurt by them, so she cast him out. Niko was sent away by her mother, who was grieving, and for whatever reason, didn't want Niko there. She was sent away from home, just like Mick. And once gone, her wonder led her to a field of dandelions, where she was infested and "cursed" resulting in her own isolation. Both of them didn't deserve their fate. They didn't actively cause. They were essentially punished for their own curiosity/wonder and more so, for things outside their control (Huh, both got impacted by intergenerational trauma) and had to suffer through the results. Mick remains largely isolated - constantly seeking a way back to what was. Niko ahs her moments of doing the same. She obsesses, for one episode, about getting her father back. But, when the Night Nurse says "you don't want him back like that", Niko accepts it. Its where her parallel branches off. Niko is able to embrace the pain and what comes after. Not entirely. She still ahs to endure it and get through it. But she doesn't remain in isolation. She could! After the sprites were gone, she could've remained in her room, constantly focusing on what was and how to get back to a place that's no longer there. But she doesn't! She moves forward. She finds new connection and new joy. Like Crystal, part of Niko's shift from her parallel is her own action and part is the action of others - which again plays so well into the show's themes of humanity and connection. Niko would've ended up in a tragic fate were it not for Crystal and the boys intervening. But even after their intervention, she still had to make the choices to chance. Like Crystal - the agency gave her the opportunity and support so she could make the change.

And this brings me to the second parallel for Niko - the Principal. Who is Niko. So, maybe not a parallel, but I'm counting it. The Principal is great because she is what Niko becomes - keeping part of her parallel from Tragic Mick in the "you never know when the good you do will come back around" but also having her own path. The Principal is the parallel that happened because Niko found connection and now she continued the work of the agency from a different side - still helping, in some way, in her way. Because we have the Principal, which we know is Niko, while also having Tragic Mick who is Niko's parallel, we oddly enough get a complete parallel storyline! Yes, Crystal has turned off the path that Esther went down, but something could push her back. And the boys, well, they already ARE their parallel. But Niko, we get a glimpse at this more tragic potential future and instead we see what she does become - the Principal. We don't know how she got there, but we know she held pieces of her journey - quoting Mick, pausing at the sight of her name, using her "reading comprehension" to help, being brave and wanting to find closure for others. Niko becomes the Principal, in part, due to her parallel arc with Mick.

The parallels in this show do an amazing job of highlighting the individual characters while also bringing out the overarching themes of the show - humanity, connection, justice, "the good you do", etc.  Thank you so much for the ask! I hadn't considered the Core 4 parallels with other characters before!!! So this was a fun analysis to do when I should've been sleeping.

[cerebrobullet]

First sight

[axolotl4days]

Yandere! Royal family × Neglected Reader

The Reborn Royal Part 1

Summary: This is one of those storys where y/n is born to royal family but the family treats them horribly and they become reborn and try to change their fate. Except, this y/n has been through the loop many. Many times, always meeting their doom, until one loop it suddenly changes

Tw: violence, abuse, yandere behavior(all platonic), descriptions of death, mentions of suicide and self harm.

Another day of torment has gone bye, as usual.

This time y/n had "embaressed" the family at a royal ball ruining their older siblings proposals. And being punished heavily for it.

Beaten and bruised y/n retreated to the library, one of the only places you know is safe from the torment on account of how large it is. Always finding books that have been hidden away covered in dust for who knows how long.

The library was always so quiet, you always liked that about it, you weren't yelled at here, weren't beaten here due to the importance of the library.

So you were free to explore and read to your hearts content, thats when you found it.

A book unlike anything you've ever seen before, a book with no cover, and seemingly having empty pages until you reach the middle of the book and see it written.

"Ask for it and it shall be yours. But be careful what you wish for"

You wonder what this means, you've seen magic before, even learned it in some previous lives, but you've never known magic, let alone any books that could grant wishes. Still, after so many lifetimes of pain and suffering, you think about what to wish for that could save you from this.

"I... I wish for my life to change, to have a loving, caring family, to go throughout my days not needing to fear pain just for existing" y/n starts to sob, wishful thinking they think to themselves, that is until the text on the book starts to move around and change.

"Your wish has been granted. The next time you wake up your life will be changed forever" the text then fades from the book as if it was never there in the first place. Y/n puts the book back where they found it and filled with hope that they hadn't had in a long time, they head off to bed hoping that the book worked and that finally things will change for the better.

....

.......

It does not.

Nothing seems to have changed. Everything is the same as it was. It's been a few weeks since you've made your wish, and unfortunately the torment hasn't let up, not even a little bit. Your Mother and Father, the Queen and King respectively continue to ignore your existence completely, ashamed to have birthed a useless child like you. Throughout your lives no matter what you did they always saw you the same, it shouldn't still hurt after so long but it does.

Your siblings, have changed, but only for the worst, since your last embaressment on them your older brothers have been pushing you around more and more, your older sister, while she doesn't harm you physically whenever she's near you she makes it her job to remind you about how much of a failure you are. How you always ruin everything.

You never should have gotten your hopes up. You don't know why you even try anymore. What's the point of living through these lives if the outcome is all the same, waiting for the day you'll die in some horrible way, usually killed, but there has been the occasional accident.

Something snaps. You can't live like this anymore, maybe... maybe if instead of being killed... maybe if you kill yourself it'll all stop...

And that's what you do.

While the rest of your "family" is hosting another ball to repair the damage you've done. You make your move, heading to one of the palace balconys and ending it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Royal Family have just announced they are having another child, they should be rejoicing but ever since the Queen discovered she was pregnant they whole family seems to have fallen under a curse of some kind.

Visions of the future, of pain, of... a person? They've never seen this person yet they look so much like them. And they see themselves too but.. somethings wrong with them. The visions are horrible, seeing each of them hurting this unknown person.

At first the Queen thought she was just having pregnancy nightmares, but then she overhears her boys fighting about something they've seen.

The Royal family gathers to discuss and discovers that they've all been getting this visions, visions of different lives, of this persons different lives. They've discovered that their visions line up, but still have many differences.

Preists, Mages, Wizards, they've called everyone they could from all over the kingdom that could possibly explain what's happening to them. To make it stop.

But none of them could figure it out.

This continues for months and they only seem to get worse. At first it was merely people who looked like them being rude, or obnoxious, or bullys, but has time went on the people in these visions got meaner. Got violent. And then the deaths started to show.

They can only watch in horror as this person dies time and time again. They refuse to believe that the people in these visions could be them. Why would they ever hurt this "y/n" this way. They don't understand it. The children wake up screaming so often that for the last month of the Queens pregnancy the family refuses to leave each other's side.

And then it happens. The day that changes everything. The day the Queen gives birth, they all have one final vision, for once, it's the same vision as well. They see this "y/n" holding a book, making their wish, and then... jumping

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything is dark, and for a moment, you think this may really be the end for once... so many emotions all at once but there's no time to think before there's a bright light and you open up your eyes.

And you see them. It didn't work. You start to cry, and you cry hard, you immediately expect to be handed over to a maid as always, but instead the queen Your mother, she keeps you in her arms and tries her best to comfort you. Looking at you for the first time and she cries.

This is strange. She's never reacted like this, she's never held you like this she's-

"It's her."

A states, you can't see him but you recognize your father's voice. The voice of a king is hard to forget.

"There she is. Y/n."

You flinch at your name being said, you don't think anything of it, but they notice. They never wanna see you flinch again. Your only a baby. Your THEIR baby.

They have you now. So small, so delicate, so fragile, they won't let anyone hurt you. They've seen the visions, they've seen your deaths, and while you don't know it. They've vowed to never let you go through any of that ever again.

No matter what. You will get what you wished for. They'll make sure of it.

[mintmatcha]

inevitable bonus content:

the infamous Christmas party. cw: mentions of drug use, depictions of abuse.

Two years before the story:

It's not that you're embarrassed of Touya, even though he wore the jeans you specifically told him not to, even though you explained it's a formal party. You're actually quite proud. Proud that he's chewing on nicotine gum, proud that he's slipping a second suboxone under his tongue. Recovery is slow and painful, and yet he's trying for you, trying again.

The event is loud enough that it sets your teeth on edge. All of your coworkers look different like this, in low light and nice clothes, like different versions of themselves, buzzing with excitement for the holidays and free food. Your dress isn't new, or particularly fancy. Neither of you fit in, you suppose. When you try to loop your arm into his, Touya shrugs you away with a scoff.

The restaurant Prome has rented for the evening is nice, way nicer than anything you could possibly afford. Usually, you wouldn't bother Touya with something like this, something so self serving, but... maybe you just wanted to pretend for an evening.

Touya had been gone for 21 days. It was supposed to be longer - the full 90 day program the doctor had recommended - but he had checked himself out early. Of course, Touya had claimed that it was for you. 'Knew you couldn't live without me, princess,' he had said. 'Knew you'd be happy to see me.' Seeing him did make you... Happy, you guess. He had gained a couple pounds that his frame had desperately needed and his dark circles were less concrete than they were before... and now you get to enjoy a night together. Sometimes, in situations like this, you have to dig to uncover the positives, but they are there, waiting to be uncovered.

"Don't drink too much, please," you say.

He shouldn't be drinking at all, but you're a realist and you're not ready for the inevitable fight that's brewing between you. Touya juts his tongue into his teeth and huffs out through his nose.

"Fine."

The withdrawal anger. You're used to it by now. It's his third time going through rehab and you swear it gets worse with every round, more angled and pointed, purposefully stabbing. Pain is sharpened into knife point and you're his favorite cutting board.

It's not actually him acting like this, you remind yourself. No, it's the pain, the need, the chills and aches he should be done with by now, but he never seems to shake. The Touya that loves you isn't the one who's currently sneering your direction, it's the Touya you're both trying to shake. Addiction is an illness, love is an affliction.

"This is a nice party," you comment.

"I said fine," Touya shoots you a look and you try to smile back. His scalp is stained blue, his hair freshly dyed. It matches the bright black tattoo on his neck, only a couple days healed. It's another fight you chose not to have; you can't say you're fond of it - this... shakily drawn skull thing that creeps down his jaw, snaking around his neck and down to his collarbone. Large swathes of skin are completely darkened and peeling, flaking off into his hairline. That thing certainly cost more money than he should have spent, especially since rehab costs came out of your pockets - but you suppose that you need to be grateful for anything that makes him happy.

As soon as you two settle into a table amongst the crowd, a familiar figure catches your eye. The man is tall, taller than you remember, with an upward turned mouth and wide, wild eyes. Your feel your expression light up and he looks you way, shining with the same excitement.

"Hey!" Your friend practically leaps across the room, dodging a couple of higher ups to slide by your side. As always, his blonde has is quaffed and gelled to perfection, piled into a swoop on his head. Somehow, he's gained more muscled since you'd last seen him; he had been some college football star in some southern school you can't remember the name of and he still carries himself with the same pride. "Good to see you!"

"Mirio!" As you go in for a handshake, Mirio misreads the gesture. He slips into you and squeezes, hugging you so fervently that he lifts you off of your feet-- and your stomach immediately sinks. The moment your feet find the floor again, you're quick to back away, but Touya is already up. He prowls in your peripheral, loaded, ready to strike, but you aren't sure where he's pointed. "Oh, I- uh-- uh. How's the PhD?"

"Difficult, but amazing," Mirio smiles a million watt smile. His cheeks are round and lovely with life; it makes your chest pang, but you're not sure why. "Did you just get here? Want me to grab you a drink? There's like little peppermint thing that's-"

Touya's hand clamps on the back on your neck-- that's the shoe you were waiting to drop. It's a warning, a leash and collar all in one: a reminder both for you and for Mirio. The grip isn't tight, but a thumb digs into the spot between muscles with a practiced accuracy, enough that you have to laugh awkwardly to play it off. Mirio was always going to be a problem; he's too nice, too charming. It was fun during work, when only the coffee machine could hear his silly little quips, but in real life....

"She can get her own drink."

From the corner of your eye, you can watch how Touya slides his tongue piercing across his lips, his jaw flexing hard. Mirio perks up with an alarmed expression and you almost start to assure him that it's okay, this is normal, but then Touya steps forward, leaving you no time to explain.

"Can't you, princess?"

Your body is immediately on spikes.

"Oh, uh. Yeah. Yeah, totally."

Both men watch you, both looking for something different, but you can't manage to impress either. Instead, you stand there, unable to people or please. The smile you offer is seasick, apologetic. Sorry that my boyfriend is like this, you hope Mirio reads. Sorry that let him do that, you hope Touya knows. The message doesn't seem to go through; the dark haired man rolls his eyes and sucks in air through his teeth with annoyance. His hand falls from you and you suck in a breath that you could have taken at any time.

"I'm getting a drink." Your boyfriend almost checks your shoulder as he passes, clumsily dipping in to whisper into your ear with a bitten sneer. "Take your fucking jaw off the ground."

Rehab was different this time. You keep telling yourself that.

"Um-" Mirio says uncomfortably, no longer smiling. You can't recall ever seeing his expression so pallid before, He shifts on the balls of his feet, glancing around as if wondering if anyone else had seen that interaction, but he seems to be alone in his worry. Good-- that's good. The alarm needs to be kept to a minimum because's there's truly nothing to be worried about. "Are you okay?"

"Sorry, he's just--" You're already following Touya, that leash between you dropped, but somehow taut. "He's having a bad day. I'll catch up with you in a little, okay?"

There's a creeping feeling in your throat that you'll never talk to Mirio again.

By the time you weave through the crowd behind your boyfriend, he's already saddled up at the bar. The woman he's next to is giving him an unsettled look and you pray that he didn't say anything to her. The drink in his hand is already drained, only ice clanking around as he turns to you with a chilled expression.

"Thought you'd be busy humping that guy's leg," Touya says,

There's a dry spot on your lips that you can't stop picking at with your teeth, even though the spot is tender and raw. "It's not like that."

"It's always fucking like that-- you're a fucking whore." He taps the glass against the Bar top to summon the bartender's attention. "Bet you're gonna have a headache when we get home though."

The thought of being touched sends a chill across your skin. No, you don't want to have sex tonight. The thought makes you ill. Why would you want to be touched? Ever since he's gotten back, Touya's been on a tear-

"I won't."

- but you make sacrifices for peace. You can handle a couple minutes if it makes the week go down easier.

"Whatever." Touya says. You don't miss the bartenders annoyed look when he makes his way over. "Another whiskey sour."

The sound doesn't even pass your lips before Touya responds.

"Don't nag me about my drinking. It's two drinks. I can have two drinks." The soggy colored beverage comes quick and he tips half of his drink down even quicker. Part of it dribbles down his chin and on to the irritated red skin of his overworked tattoo. "Hold this. I'm gonna go take a drag."

You open your hands and let him slot to glass into them. "I thought you were doing the gum instead."

"Oh, yeah." He jams his fingers into his mouth and pulls out the wad, jamming it to the edge of his cup. "Thanks for the reminder."

Touya stalks away, this time actually throwing a shoulder into yours as he passes. It's almost enough to knock you off of your balance, but you get a hand on the bar top just in time. Heels, you decide, are not your friend.

"Are you alright?"

Why do people keep asking you that? You glance up and realize it's another familiar face. One of the engineers, Mirio's old boss. It's hard to recognize him without his sunny yellow sweatshirt and usually three days of stubble, but you know it's Aizawa. It takes all of your will to offer his a sincere smile. It's not that you don't like the guy, but you don't really enjoy his company either. He's a bit of a recluse, only escaping his back office to snag a couple cups of coffee from the machine and scold the other engineers. From what you've gathered from Mirio, the man is actually kind of a big deal in the industry, but you aren't really sure why.

"Yeah. Yeah! Totally, yeah." You suck in your lips and they taste of copper; the spot you have been prodding has broken. Aizawa's neutral expression doesn't break.

"If-" he pauses himself. There's a quick, outward breath, not quite a sigh. "Hizashi is looking for you."

That's not what he was going to say, you think, but you aren't sure you want to know what he was really thinking. You're not sure you could handle an infamous rant or lecture, especially in front of all of these people. Actually, you think you'd prefer if the man never noticed you ever again and completely forgot about this interaction as a whole. Erase me and Touya from your memory, you try to psychically will.

He doesn't seen affected by your psyconic beams,m so you're forced to reply. "I'll find him, thanks."

.

When you finally run into Hizashi and Nemuri, you make sure to only hug her. Touya hadn't returned yet, but you still feel the needle prick of his attention, waiting to sink into the pincushion of your psyche. Most nights with him are good, but loving Touya is loving Russian Roulette; there's been too many quiet nights in a row, the bullet is coming and you aren't sure if you can dodge this one.

Hizashi is leaned across the table, lost in a work story. It's not as captivating as he thinks he is, but it's nice. Mundane is always a nice reprieve from it all. Your shoulders lose a bit of their tension as you relax into being here, with friends, with everyone-

"You're quiet tonight!" Hizashi suddenly gripes. "'muri, she's usually not this quiet. This girl is an absolute riot."

Despite yourself, you glitter a bit under the compliment. "I'm just a little tired."

"Don't be sorry!" Nemuri places her hand over yours waggling her eyebrows conspiratorially. "I thought your bad boy boyfriend was supposed to be here?"

"He is, somewhere," you say. "I have his drink. And gum."

"He gave you his gum?" Nemuri winks. "In like- a sexy way?"

"No!" you waggle his cup in the air as proof. "Is there even a sexy way to share gum?"

"Are you kidding? Anything can be sexy if you're dedicated."

A laugh bubbles out from you. Genuinely, you like Nemuri. Both her and Hizashi are people that you wish you could hang out with after work, but you never really know how to ask. They're both a bit older and certainly more established, but they're witty and fun. It'd be nice if you could do a double date, but you know that'd end poorly. Why subject yourself to that? Honestly, why are you even subjecting yourself to tonight? At least, so far, it's been tame, and Touya has been-

You smell him before you hear him, then feel his touch before you can react. Again, his hand clamps onto your neck, but this time he pulls, yanking you back like a marionette on a string. Again, you stumble on your damn heels and your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"There she is!" There's a violent slur to Touya's words. He's unstable himself, nearly falling into Nemuri. "Knew I'd find you whoring it up."

"Whoa," Hizashi says, all humor gone from his voice.

"Whoa," Nemuri echos, nearly jumping out of her skin. Her eyes narrow hard as she reels back, hand up as if she's about to slap the man. "I know you did not just smack my ass."

"Aw," Touya tugs at your neck again. It's easier to go limp and play along, to let your head bop from side to side. "She can flirt, but I can't?"

Attempting to change the air, you pull out a tinned laugh, but only Touya smiles back. He reeks of cigarettes, with something sweet brewing underneath. Alcohol, maybe. You hope it's alcohol. You really want it to be alcohol. Your pleasant charade only lasts a moment; your body sighs with disappointment.

"I'm so sorry," you say. "Touya's just-"

"Touya's just fucking fun." Touya himself jerks you back again and your neck aches. This time, his squeeze isn't as playful. "I'm so fucking fun. This one right here's just kinda a cunt."

"Whoa." Hizashi has never looked more unamused, which is saying something, because the man is almost always amused. Panic sets into your lungs.

"He doesn't mean it. He's-- Touya, apologize." You clutch at his free arm with mock affection. "Baby, say you're sorry."

The apology is meant for your friends and your friends alone; you don't need an apology from Touya because you understand Touya. The things he says, the actions he does-- they aren't really him, they aren't things that he means.

"I'm so sorry," you try again. When you look up again, you catch Yagi out of the corner of your eye.You hadn't known he was coming. It's a moment where you should feel joy; you love Yagi, love working for him, visiting him, learning from him... but right now his attention makes you ill. With his mask on, it's too difficult to read his expression, but you know his eyes are on you and his brow is furrowed inquisitively--

God, you hadn't wanted everyone to know.

"We're gonna go," you declare. "I'm so, so, so sorry."

Luckily, you had left your coats in the car. It's a quick get away-- just like you had planned. The two of you can escape before this gets really bad, embarrassingly bad, get fired from you job bad. This is all your fault- why had you ever thought that coming here would be a good idea? You two are not a 'do things' couple. You and Touya work best in silence, in a vacuum, in a black hole, away from anyone else who could ever witness this

The smile slides off of Touya's face and the gun goes off.

"There she goes." The way he addresses the room makes your gut twist. He does it with a practiced pomp and circumstance, a tactless grace that pulls far too much attention- "Always so fucking embarrassed of me."

You pull at his arm. Luckily, he's wiggly enough that he stumbles along with you, out towards the door, even as his tone rises and rises.

"You always make me out to be the asshole."

"Let's go."

"So fucking embarrassed."

You have to blink away the burning prick of tears, but it doesn't clear the water from your tone. "Let's go, baby. Please."

He addresses the room again, like a jester bowing to the court. "Anything for the fucking princess."

Somehow, you manage to get him outside, through the crowd, away from the waitstaff. The weather is biting cold, with moisture clinging to the air in the anticipation of snow. Touya's breath puffs out visibly, each labored breath faster and faster, streaming into the air like smoke off of a train engine. A real blow out is coming. Saying something will either mitigate it or push him over the edge.

"I love you, Touya." You take the risk. "I just wanted to spend time with you-"

The gamble doesn't pay off.

"It's always about what you want." He yanks himself away from you, spinning on his heel almost uncontrollably. "You just fucking hate me, don't you?"

"I love you!" You do, you really do. It's why these bad moments hurt so badly, why your heart's so heavy when he gets this angry. You've loved him so intensely, for so long. "I love you so much, but this is my work and I want you to behave. Just for one night."

"It's always about you. What you want. What you want to do." The dark of his eyes are blown out, nearly swallowing the blue completely. "Never about fucking Touya. Never do anything for me, you fucking--"

Shit. The truth hits you. He's high. You should have seen it earlier. Where'd he even get it? Is there a hidden stash in your apartment? Did he know where to get some around here?

"You're heartless. You're a bitch." It's in the way he rambles, the laziness in his tongue. "Never what I wanna do."

There's a flash of anger inside you. All of this. All of your effort, your love, your money: it all feels wasted. Years of your life are standing right in front of you and you're suddenly worried that you've wasted them, that he's eaten them and all the parts of you that you'll never get back.

"Because-" Your breath spirals up ina timid little puff. "Because all you ever wanna do is get high."

It's rather banal compared to what he's said, and yet Touya whips around, fists bunched, lip sneered-

"You have no fucking idea how bad-" Spittle flies from his mouth as he speaks and you jump at their intensity. Every inch of your spine dissolves as you shrink back, hand pressed against the cool metal of a stranger's car for balance. Touya's lithe frame heaves with each breath as if he's trying to stabilize himself, hone this thoughts into something sharper, harder- "I wanna fucking bash your face in right now."

His body sways. You wait for the retraction, wait for the realization, but his expression stays hard, firm with conviction. The tension in his fist stays taut and firm. Suddenly, you're glad to be in the parking lot, shivering in the cold and ice, because it affords you silence. There's time to swallow down your tears, to remind yourself that he doesn't mean that, that it's just the withdrawal talking.

(He's not in withdrawal anymore. He's not in withdrawal.)

Touya shoves a hand out.

"Gimme the car keys."

"You're drunk." And high.

"Give me the fucking keys." Your hands fly into your purse. When you place them into his awaiting palm, he snatches them away and starts to stalk off. "Take the fucking train home-- I don't wanna look at your fucking face."

"Touya..." you step after him. Your voice is wild and wet. "Touya, I don't know the train schedule from here-"

"Figure it out."

"Touya-"

"I will fucking hit you, I swear to-"

He reels around again, then freezes. His eyes are locked behind you. Shit- you turn and see Hizashi, who had clearly followed you both outside, standing in the entry way to the restaurant. He's clutching a coat, his own thrown over his shoulders. Relief and worry flood your system at the same time, so thick you might choke on them. Your boyfriend takes a couple steps back, keys gripped tight in his hand.

"I'm leaving."

You watch him prowl away, through the parking lot, into the first flakes of snow. Quickly, you wipe away your snot and tears with the back of your hand. That's when you realize Touya's drink is still in one hand, gum still pressed into the edge. How had you been holding on to that this whole time? Quickly, you place it on to the roof of the car beside you. Your knuckles ache with the release.

"Hey, baby girl," You friend takes a couple steps forward, palm outstretched, but you're quick to start rambling over him.

"Hey! Hey, everything's good, that was just--" you psh. "He would never actually do anything, you know? He's just having a bad day, so, you know."

"Yeah. Totally. Yeah." Hizashi holds the jacket in his hands out of you. "It's cold out, do you want this?"

The cold has left you quivering. "Um, no, it's-- I gotta go. The train doesn't run that late and I gotta figure out the schedule."

"Or--" Hizashi has this superhuman ability to lighten the mood. He just smiles genuinely, offering the coat one more time. "I was just thinking; Nemuri and I just redid our guest room if you wanted to stay at our place for a little. We'll have a little sleepover, maybe brunch in the morning-"

"I couldn't-" There's no need for his pity. "I don't have a toothbrush or my phone charger-"

"Oh my god, don't worry about it!" Hizashi reassures you. "We'll take care of you, it's fine. I need someone to tell me if the mattress is good! You'd be doing me a favor, really."

There isn't a train station nearby. You'd have to cross the highway, you think. There's no guarantee you'd make it home tonight and if you did, there's only a chance that Touya will be over his mood. Gingerly, you accept the jacket. It smells like Nemuri's perfume.

"Okay, thank you." You rub your palm into your eye again. The tears have dried your contacts up and blurred the world, the golden lights of the restaurant smears across the night. "I'm so sorry about him."

Hizashi cups a hand at your back. The contact makes you paranoid, as if someone's still watching, but it also eases your ache, just a bit.

"It's gonna be okay, baby girl, don't worry."

.

Touya calls you that night, just after 4am. It's a bad idea to answer, but you do anyway, voice low.

"Where are you?" Touya asks. His tone is smoothed out, calm and sweet. It soothes your headache, irons out a bit of your worry.

"Friend's house."

"Text me the address."

The guest room is nice, with finer sheets than you've ever slept on. The mattress in question is firm and you swear it smells of lavender. Before you had gone to bed, Nemuri has handed you the fluffiest cotton towel you had even seen and assured you that there was more if you needed it. 'We've got towels for days,' she insisted. Truthfully, you aren't sure why they've given you so much, whether its sheer pity or genuine kindness, but it's unknotted something in between your ribs. "Touya, I don't know..."

"Princess, baby..." he pleads. The pitch of his voice is high and thin, childlike. "You know I'm sorry. Can't sleep in this apartment without you."

This is the side of him you like. The syrupy, soft kind, the one that sticks to your teeth like caramel.

"I was worried 'bout you, yeah?" he continues. "I miss my pretty girl. Miss kissing you."

How you cave for him. "You were so mean."

"I didn't mean it. You know that. It's not me- I was just coming down real bad. You know that. You know that, right?"

"I do."

"And you know I love you. So much it makes my fucking head go crazy. Love you so fucking much. You're my princess." He rambles on, tugging at the strings he knows will work. "You're my girl, right?"

The clock in the corner ticks.

"You're still my girl, right? Right?"

You count the seconds until you answer, voice small. Seven of them pass before you can muster up a: "Yeah."

Touya blossoms at the inch you've given him. He coos and sighs, humming each word like its a song. "My favorite girl. Always gonna be my girl, aren't you? It's just you and me 'til the end of the line."

Affection and dread. You can't decide with one you feel. You think they might be the same thing, wrapped together in one horse sized pill that you'll either swallow or choke on.

"Gimme the address, princess," Touya pleads again. "Lemme come get you. Take you home."

"Touya-"

"You said you were my girl. Gimme the address, princess."

You breathe in the scent of lavender, then you tell him.

Your car pulls up outside within the hour. All you have on is the sweat set that Nemuri had lent you, rolled up at to not wet the hem. Snow has gathered enough that your bare feet sink into your ankles as you walk, your heels and dress bundled into your arms. The text has already been sent to Hizashi, apologizing for intruding and promising to grab brunch a different time. Touya is waiting for you, leaned against the car with arms open.

"Hey," He sniffs. The tension is gone from his face and body. He's still wearing those awful jeans. "Come'ere."

When Touya hugs you, one arm wraps around your neck, catching you in the crook of his elbow.

[broodingheroine]

list of weird things I want to hear in a case file in tmagp:

baker (or just a person making their own bread) getting progressively more paranoid about the bubbles in their sourdough starter being sentient

teenager on some sort of social media talking about how the clothes pile on their chair looks at them in the dark

very cliche tree branch shadow tapping on someone's window in the middle of the night but it's actually an evil tree

I want more haunted theaters. It can never be overdone.

musician finds the one out of tune key on their piano deeply disconcerting to the point of obsession

someone gets a splinter and can't quite seem to get it out..... they keep digging for hours

avalanche. being stuck under the snow and not being able to tell which way is up.

story of someone who got stuck in an office building all alone and couldn't find the exit but there's just enough details similar to the oiar building that it freaks someone out.

worm sex part 2: electric boogaloo

someone with frost bite who couldn't stop rubbing their arms even though the skin was getting shredded from the ice particles :) flesh

everytime someone gets their picture taken, even if it's a candid, the result is them staring dead into the lense. even if they were turned the opposite direction when it was taken. they avoid cameras now.

someone's voice cannot be recorded and they start to question whether or not they're real.

furbiez.

someone who realizes everyone they've ever known has forgotten them. kind of an inverse not!them where they're the only one who knows themselves.

apartment complex finds body in their water tank, people had been drinking corpse water, one of the tenants obsesses over it and starts putting more bodies in the tank to get the ✨️flavor✨️ back.

love induced cannibalism and I want that shit genuinely romanticized. like i want it portrayed as if it's the most reasonable thing on earth to consume your loved ones.

time loop. except the person in the time loop is there so long they get desensitized and start just having fun with it. the time it finally stops looping is when they've done the most heinous thing they could think of and then they have to live with it.

might add more if they occur to me

[crepesuzette2023]

Only asking if you wanna and have time to do it. No worries if you don't but asking anyway because it would be so helpful. I find it a bit difficult because I'm new. Maybe you've done this before and can add linkto that. Please.

My ask is if you could make a list of McLennon fics on AO3.

A list of favorites. (fan favourites or popular fic writers in the fandom)

A list of finished fics with lots of smut.

A list of fics that is very realistic in the Beatle lore/quite possible/likely to have happend.

A list of uncanon/not likely/ John's still alive, reunion of the Beatles etc.

A list of your own and or own favorites.

Thank you!

Thanks for the ask, Anon!

I recommended some fics in the past, it’s true, but it’s been a while. This is a chance to mention some stories I read & loved since then. (I’ll also link to the older recs, so you can check them out as well.)

(This is long, so I'm editing this to insert a break)

But first there's this:

A list of favorites. (fan favourites or popular fic writers in the fandom)

I can’t speak for the fandom as a whole, because everyone’s taste is different. What I can do is name some stories I personally love, and that are also beloved by many others.

These fics have probably been recced many times, including by me—and for a reason: they’re excellent.

Also: all of these writers have many great fics. The stories below are just entry points to their work.

• On the Way to Work by @roundthatcorner. (Paul gets a job after Hamburg.)

• Lifting Latches/Sending Postcards by ThinkPink20. (Early Days. Paul and John swap clothes.)

• Now and then (there’s a fool such as I) by @stonedlennon. (The trip to Caversham.)

• Six hours in August by @stonedlennon. (John and Paul meet in NYC in 1976.)

• Bird Passing Through by @savageandwise. (John is tripping and visiting Paul after his moped accident.)

• I was a younger man then (now) (post hoc) by @fingersfallingupwards. (McLennon as The Time Traveller’s Wife.)

• baby, it’s all relative by @pauls1967moustache. (Early John and Paul and daddy issues.)

• but still they lead me back by @revollver. Paul remembers the moment when John asked him, do you like me?

• Double Fantasy by @javelinbk. John and Paul’s (modern) Flower Shop AU.

• The Same as it Ever Was by RedheadAmongWolves. John and Paul through the eyes of the newsagent.

• The First Year by candle_beck. Still feeling the reverberations of this one in my bones years after reading.

• Portrait of the Artist by @scurator. (John and Paul take sexy pictures…to sell them for money. For no other reason.)

• Kissing the Blarney by @zilabee. Paul is the Beatles’ talisman. (This is magical realism at its best.)

• Smutlets by @unchaineddaisychain. (Don’t let the flippant name deceive you: this is a massive collection of shorter and longer fics across many genres, eras, and themes. There’s something in there for everyone!)

• The Cat by @merseydreams. Post Beatles break-up. Paul thinks John has a new boyfriend. He has thoughts about this.

And, of course, my personal favorite of all time, my desert island, gold-disc-for-space, “printed it all to make sure I won’t lose it when The Internet™ is gone”: I Need You Darlin’ (So Come Go With Me) by @beatlessideblog. Omegaverse version of John and Paul’s love story (do not scroll away!), with Paul being the alpha. I keep saying this, but it’s fantastic how the writer combines omegaverse ideas with late 50’s/ early 60’s Liverpool. Novel length plus 9 extras, what can I say. We are all blessed.

A list of finished fics with lots of smut.

Here are some recent smutty favorites. (Below are links to older smutty recs!)

• Loops by @dailyhowl. Sgt. Pepper’s era. John and Paul create tape loops of themselves during sex.

• just to make me misbehave by @dykebeatles. 1967. Paul and John have sex before, during, and after the Sgt. Pepper’s launch party.

• Lonely Hearts Column by @unchaineddaisychain. Modern AU, middle-aged composer Paul and younger artist John, and a lovely night followed by the sweetest breakfast.

• Ask the Glass by @unchaineddaisychain: Young John and Paul, and two séances.

• Put A Spell on You by @eveepe. Help! Era. The size difference between Smaul and John works very well for both of them.

• monkey’s paw by @ameliepoulain. Repressed tension and catharsis during the Japan leg of the  ’66 tour.

• lift up your heart and sing you a song by @wronglennon. Sex during the making Magical Mystery Tour. Paul wears the white suit.

• it’s good to touch by @pondpossum. Smutty mclennon art!

• The Look of You by @ohjohnnysblog. Paul is fisting John.

• the chronicles of trying to keep quiet and almost getting caught by lazydaisychain. On tour, John and Paul are trying to make space for their love.

• Piston Engines (Shift to Overdrive) by SwishyNibblyNibbly. John and Paul join the Mile High club on the way to their first US visit. Also:

• NSFW favorites (Feb. 2024)

• What’s the most raunchiest, dirty, and just explicit Mclennon fic you’ve ever read? (March 28, 2024)

• Hi, I would love recs for mclennon fics dripping in sexual tension, like six hours in August by stonedlennon. It doesn't need to have explicit sexual content. Thank you! (March 6, 2024)

A list of fics that is very realistic in the Beatle lore/quite possible/likely to have happened.

I think that’s an interesting ask, to be honest. I’ll take this to mean stories that feel “in character” and are compliant with canon events as we know them—not stories presenting a plausible explanation/only possible version of events. (Subtle difference.)

Here are some fics I could think of that fit this description (more links at the end of this post, if interested) : Krankenstand by @savageandwise. John takes care of a sick Paul in Hamburg. Two Truths, and Two Lies by J_Deandra_j. John and Paul from 1965-67, based on four quotes.

the best of times, the worst of times by @crumblingcookies. John and Paul during the Beatles' 1964 visit to the British Embassy in Washington.

Someone Else Can Worry About Me... by @idontwanttospoiltheparty. Paul comforting, and being comforted, through the years.

in france, they kiss on main street by @orphanbeat. Paul is spiraling about John during their 1966 visit to Paris.

The Dream by monkberrymoon. Screenplay-format story centered on the Did you dream about me last night? scene in Get Back.

Transatlantic by @therealsaintscully. Don't let the incomplete chapter count distract you; the first two chapters each stand on their own. John and Paul are talking on the phone after the break-up.

and when i touch you by @forthlin. Early days. John and Paul notice the different size of their hands.

Huddersfield, 1963 by @dovetailjoints. The story behind the adorable 'boyfriends' photo.

The Sober Cannibal and the Drunken Christian (Anonymous). John and Paul wake up together in Paris.

(help me) get my feet back on the ground (ladeedahblue). The toboggan sandwich!

Unsaid in Studio Two by the Beatlefix. John and Paul yearn for each other as they work on Strawberry Fields Forever.

knows not where he's going to by @dovand. Liverpool days. Brian finds John in his office one morning.

See Us in the Real Life by RedHeadAmongWolves. Two EMI canteen workers observe the Beatles, and especially John and Paul, in the early days of their career.

Shooting Star by @pie-of-flames. Early days. John and Paul see a shooting star together.

Giving me the excitations by @backbenttulips. After the Pet Sounds listening party, Paul writes a song—while having sex with John.

Field-Boxing by @the-paper-apricot. Paul considers going back on tour.

all by design by @thegirlwiththeaxe. Early days. A smitten and determined Paul is plotting to sweep John off his feet at the fete.

A list of uncanon/not likely/ John's still alive, reunion of the Beatles etc.

Music save your mortal soul by @backbenttulips. (This writer is a specialist at middle-aged/old mclennon fix its! In this one, John persuades Paul, who he accuses of being a sell out, to go on a tour though the pubs...as The Nerk Twins.)

Leads Me To Your Door/The Four of Wands by @bluewater9. Gorgeous, real and warm two-parter about John and Paul in '89/'90: together, and on the brink of coming out...but not quite there yet.

And the fics listed here:

• Fics in which John is old and happy (Dec 8, 2024) ( this probably should have said middle-aged or old)

• mclennon fanfiction in which one or both of them is/are old (June 24, 2024)

• Old mclennon recommendations (2/2/2025)

A list of your own and/or own favorites.

Here are some Beatles fics I loved recently, with some space for non-mclennon.

John/Paul/Brian. Series (1963, 1967) by @scurator. Goes well with: Billet doux (Brian/Paul).

Paris, 1961 by whiteisthewarmestcolor. "A young Parisian woman meets two British musicians staying at the Montmartre hotel run by her family." I love this unusual outsider POV on John and Paul, and Beatles when they're famous...

cool about it by ohhamlet. After Hamburg. George and Jürgen, George and Paul.

a lesson in not caring by @javelinbk. John's thoughts and feelings during Paul's arrest in Japan. With a beautiful final chapter...

visionen christi by @dykebeatles. Hamburg. John has visions...Paul and George take care of him. The emergence of a tender trinity.

Lay, Lady, Lay by @aquarianshift. Paul and Jane, noble lady & stable hand role play.

love is a finder, always by @wronglennon. Instant all-time favorite. Hamburg: Paul and John and their demons are in love without knowing...until they do.

All Flesh is Weak by @thegirlwiththeaxe. 1967. Paul is a priest, John is a writer. They meet in grief, and make each other come alive. I love how warm and kind John is...!

She's not a girl who misses much by Anonymous. Yoko studies John and Paul.

half of what i say is meaningless, but i say it just to reach you by @pauls1967moustache. "CIA agent Tom Dawkins tries to decode Lennon/McCartney" — and finds himself. An awakening!

Oh Dear What Can I Do by @louiselux. 1966. John and Paul kiss on stage...and what happens after.

Your Song Will Fill the Air by Sminking: Strange days after Brian's death. India. And a happy ending? Unfinished, but hopefully finished soon. Dark and interesting.

i walked with you once upon a dream by @menlove. A Christmas Carol during he making of Magical Mystery Tour.

With a Little Help by @notgrungybitchin. 1967. John and Paul are such a couple during the Sgt. Pepper's photoshoot...

this boy would always feel the same by @adriennefrombrooklyn. 1975. Paul is divorced, and traveling to NYC with Robert Fraser. John, back with Yoko after the lost weekend, is jealous....

And finally:

• Here is a big blog post I made in December 2023 with my overall favorites in various categories at that point...

• Here are all my fic recs (many different asks) under the #fic recs tag on my blog

• Here are all my bookmarks on AO3

• And (since you asked) my own fics are here

Thanks again for asking, Anon, and I hope you find something in this huge mess of a post that you enjoy!

[askoverkill]

// ooc, but I actually wanted to just point ou some details that I think will be important, or that I just really enjoyed seeing?

1) Lupus is actually forgetting more than just island memories, but seems to be forgetting when Dawn gets too hurt - or just emotionally distressing situations. Like, Lupus was there when Dawn was poisoned by cyanide and yet when everything came back didn't seem shaken by it. And when Dawn was coughing up too much blood and Lupus saw it, they were distressed, but soon a "forget sprite"/ sprite w/ two black stars came and they were questioning why there was blood. Maybe it's some kind of curse? Since the curses seem just Siffrins inner struggles related to the loops manifested in some way (like the ISAT bathroom monologue on ACT 4 where he says "THE WORLD SHOULD HAVE TO SUFFER LIKE YOU DID" or something). Or maybe it's just the Universe? But it really feels important to understand Lupus and their future role in the story more here, since they are seeing the loops firsthand but with a watered down version of it all.

2) I also really like the fact that when we get Lupus drawings they always draw swirly cheeks! The same way the Directors cheek is drawn on their face!!! Because it's part of their artstyle in a way and I think it's cute!!! And also sad because Lupus and Director have really big design similarities, and maybe that gets me because yeah... Something something you never let go of your inner child they become part of you.... Something

3) It is absolutely hilarious to me that ALL Siffrins are wearing heels. Specifically white ones. The only one that breaks this rule is Lupus but still. They may be walking straight into hell or be the hell themselves but they are walking there with their click clacks on the floor!!!!

4) Have I commented on how I really like the fact that Dawn's and Dusks design are complementary opposites in every ways and I think that's so cool because yes they are opposites but they are still fundamentally Siffrins.

5) Stupid Rotten Adults parallel killed me also. Like not even the one with Lupus but the one with Dawn that just occurred where he asks Mira if she really believes that. Looked like Bonnie asking Frin if they were sure. Killed me instantly.

6) Hoo boy I can't shut up but there are so many small details sneaked into this that I just can't stop writing!!! Your writing of the characters is just so so so good. I love it.

// bashfully plays with my hair~ thank you for enjoying the story and taking note of details.

// Lupus doesn't get heels because they're still wearing their islander clothes, or what they've replaced while on the road. Baby too young for heels, gotta have good support while growing!!!

// it must be extra nice for them too, to finally be walking around on their feet.

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

I'm overthink8ng logistics because I love venus vampire trap stan. If he bites a human(he wouldn't, but if he did) would they still get paralyzed? Or dies it only work on vampires. Can Stan turn other people into anti-vampires? Or is he justgonna be permanently the last of his kind.

If he made a deal with a vampire could they have a symbiosis where they feed on each other or would they starve. Or would he go too far instinctively and drain the vamp.

His bite doesn't discriminate, a human would be paralyzed just as easily as a vamp. Biting ones a different story though, as he is not tempted by humans.

Stan can turn people! Right now I'm thinking it's harder to spread than normal vampirism. Here vampires turn others by feeding humans vampire blood then drinking them almost dry, but not quite. So Stan would have to get someone to drink his blood, then drink them. It doesn't work with vamps, they have to be human, and he'd have to really work at it, because people do not taste great to him. So if at any point they tried and someone volunteered it's be the most painful process ever becaue he'd have to keep stopping to gag and try not to throw up. Slight chance of humans turning just by drinking his blood, but that's slim to nothing. This might change though! I'm still thinking about it.

He couldn't form a symbiotic relationship, because even though he's very tasty, he has almost no nutritional value. The other vampire wouldn't survive without feeding on humans. Neither would be able to stop themselves from draining each other either, so it'd just be a loop of feeding and Stan would win because he's the only one getting the nutrients he needs to survive.

[flamingpudding]

I'm back with a part 4 if you want to do it it's kind of more of a crack write I just need Klarion trying to explain the family tree

But not explaining how he was made at all So Young Justice and the Justice League are now convinced that a the Ghost King was a teenage parent who is now 27 years old and just passed college with a degree in astronomy and machinery

Klarion's other parent is a a crazy fruit loop 64 year old millionaire who went to college with Klarion's Mom parents who had an emotionally unhealthy obsession with his mom's mother and then it passed on to his mom.

And he has an older sister who is technicality a clone of his mom but also has the bastards DNA so fundamentally making Ellie Vlad Master and Mom's first born kid but there's six other siblings that Klarion had that died back a while back but Mom got granddad who's apparently the time lord AKA Cronos which is a whole another long story to go back in time and save those kids get them fixed up and now Klarion technicality has seven older siblings which all do their own things

And then he starts mentioning his uncle who is a 9 ft yeti his technicality auntie who is a medieval ghost princess who can turn into a dragon his auntie Pandora and his his grandfather cronos

My names for the six other clone children are Donald (he/him), Cecelia (they/she), Bartholomew(Them/They), Kyle AKA Bite(He/It), Brutus(He/They), and then there's Danna (She/Her) who actually really like the name Dan and asked Klarion if could have it when Klarion changed his name

Sorry if this is a little bit too much I've just really been thinking about au for this after the last part you made I hope this helps you with your writing or at least makes you laugh but I really love the idea of Danny's AKA somewhat clone children and finding their own personalities and and fighting themselves out of just being failed clone of their mom also I love the idea of Danny going back in time to save the rest of the clone kids cuz now he's a mature adult who wants to save their lives and wants them to grow into their own people.

(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

I probably did way to much research into all the fandoms I am in to see what I could tie into this... And yet this feels shorter than it should but I also currently lack the time to add more. But for now I hope this will be satisfactorily.

Also this family tree idea especially the part of saving the melted clones. LOVE IT!

So even though it took me a while! here is Part 4 you inspired! Thanks so much for the ask!

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

"Dude, you are making us only curious!" Impulse spoke up as he sat down next to Klarion who had his head in his hands. "Like you and your mom can't just drop your family lore like that!"

The witch boy on the other hand looked up with narrowed eyes at the speedster. "What lore?"

"Let's see, the part that apparently a Vlad tried to kill your Grandpa to make friends several time. That your mom is 'ghost' adopted by the lord of time Cronos and Pandora, which makes us family too by the way, and that you have a sister that apparently is even crazier than what we got to know of your family so far." Wonder Girl counted off her fingers next to him grinning as she mentioned the part of probably being a part of his 'crazy' family too. Which hell yea, that sounded like a lot of fun to be explored she would have to talk with Wonder Woman about that as soon as possible.

"Also..." Red Robin added as he flipped through the photo album that apparently no one remembered he had. He was turning it around and pointed at a particular photo with a wild bunch of people in it that varied between more human and well... less humanoid people. One of them definitely was a Yeti and there was also what looked like living armor as well as Teekly (they knew that demon cat at least), a giant green dog and for some reasons there was a green aggressive looking Octopus in the background too. "...how are you related to a Yeti?"

"Hey that man there and those other teens in the picture actually have some resembles with you! Do you have older brothers too?" Superboy additionally asked as he moved around Red Robin to see the photo better pointing at a man that appeared to be in this late twenties, blue eyed, black haired and a little on the buffer side. If he didn't know any better and the fact that he should keep his mouth shut about their actual identities he would have jokingly asked Red Robin if his family would like to add more kids considering Klarions family apparently had a bunch of black haired blue eyed members too, judging by the photo at least.

"What are you talking about. That man is my mom and yes the others are actually my older brothers and that Yeti is uncle Frostbite who also happens to be the best medic in the Infinite Realms" The four teen heroes looked stunned at the picture and then back at the Ghost King that was smiling at them, still seated by the dinner table with their mentors. Who by the way were now perking up at the change of topic and the information they could gain with it, well Wonder Woman was more interested in the apparently extended family she had.

"Oh I remember we took this photo last year, it was such a hassle to get everyone into one place with them all being busy doing their own things." Danny mused for a moment, remembering fondly how he had to literally drag some of the kids home through a portal.

"It was more annoying than anything too since I was declared to be the youngest...." Klarion muttered also remembering that day not as fondly as his mother.

"Wait, wait, wait! That is a picture of your family? I need an explanation buddy!" Impulse cut in without shame, quickly removing the picture from the photo album to get a better look at it before holding it out to Klarion so he could explain all the individuals. "Plus why does your mom look soooo.... human?"

The witch boy on the other hand stared at him for a couple of seconds before looking over towards his mother as if waiting for something. After a moment the teen heroes as well as their mentors saw Danny nod with a little smile. "This dimension doesn't have the GIW so its fine, the Justice League Dark won't be a problem either, right?." Constantine flinched at the smile the Ghost King was giving him, muttering something under his breath as he had hoped his presence had been forgotten.

"Since mom is giving his okay...." Klarion mutter sitting crosslegged on the ground as he snatched the photo album from Red Robin and flipped through it. "Lets start with the easiest stuff to explain."

Danny chuckled noticing that not only the teen heroes but their mentors as well showed an interest. He choose to stay quiet letting the adults listen in on the kids, and if things went bad he would just ask Clockwork if they could revert time back to this moment and he would change his nod of permission to a shake of denial.

"Okay first of, this is my mom and his sister Jasmine, this is Danielle my older sister and that hulk with flaming white hair and blueish skin is me. That was before I got deaged because of destabilising." Klarion explained flipping to a photo of him, Danny, Jazz and Danielle. "Mom was around fifteen, Aunt Jazz about seventeen and Ellie should have been about a year old but she was aged up to twelve. They look human in this one because well they are. Mom was originally human and became what you call in this dimension a Meta through an accident."

"Wait... that would mean your mom... How could he have two kids at that age of fourteen? You look like an adult and your sister was aged up?" Wonder Girl couldn't help but ask as she looked from the photo and back to Danny at the dinner table again.

"That's cause Vlad was a fu-"

"Language Klarion!"

"Vlad was a fruitloop. That photo was taken shortly after Vlad and I sort of redeemed our selfs. Plus, mom didn't really have my sister and me willingly.... we were kind of forced upon him in a way." Klarion explained shrugging. "Old Man Vlad had an obsession with his mom that then turned on mom, which resulted in my oldest sister Danielle first. Actually, a lot of my elder siblings resulted from that, but they didn't survive it the first time, Mom got Old Man Clocks help to save them once he got used to being the Ghost King. I got added to the mix shortly after my sister, but... i wasn't in the best state of mind at first, kind of went through a redemption phase in which mom had to fix the timeline of our original home dimension, too."

Danny chuckled again at the disturbed looks the teens were giving his son as well as the looks their mentors sent him. He probably should correct Klarion's wording... but being one of the gremlins of his family he just smiled on, not commenting. He really understands now why Pops Clockwork liked watching the chaos he used to cause as teen, and still sometimes causes as adult.

"Klarion... how old is this Old Man Vlad?" Red Robin asked grimacing as his eyes under the mask flicked up to the Ghost King and then back to the witch boy both seemingly unbothered by the disturbing information they were sharing.

"In human years... probably around 67? You stop counting age at some point if your a halfa." Klarion shrugged, not noticing the grimaces of the teens around him. "Anyway, Ellie is sort of the first born. I came in after that, with my core being a mix of Mom and Vlad. Not DNA wise though since I came to be because of their ghost cores. That's why I look like that in this photo. Though human DNA wise I am probably now mostly Moms, we never bothered to ask the old man."

Danny muffled another chuckle, coughing as Superman sent him an incredulous look of shook while he felt Batmans burning gaze on him.

"You... mentioned more siblings?" Red Robin asked carefully sharing a look with his team, feeling like there was a whole lot of trauma in Klarions family he wasn't sure they should address or not. So asking after his siblings was probably, hopefully the safest option. They didn't know that while there was trauma in the witch boy's family it was not the kind they were imagining.

"Yea I got a bunch more brothers, Vlad was a evil crazy fuitloop, before he redeemed himself. They all kind of melted in one timeline but mom and Grandpa Clock found a way to save them." Klarion nodded flipping to another photo containing him, as he looked now, and all his siblings.

"So, Ellie you know about already. The one with the sunglasses and died hair is Bartholomew, second oldest. They made themselves a home in other dimension, barely at home cause he has to much fun messing with something called a 'Starstream' by being a 'Constellation' and throwing gold coins at 'Incarnations'. Don't ask me what that means, I barely pay attention when he gushes about his favorit 'Incarnation'. They spent like all their money and pocket money there. Aunt Jazz thinks he might develop a gambling addiction if we don't stop his spendings." The teen heroes eyed the teen that looked like a young adult grinning in the photo as the witch boy pointed at the one next to them. "The one with the vile is my elder brother Bite, most responsible one of this bunch. Mom even allowed him to take care of a couple of dimensions by taking the role of being their God of Death. I think he messed them up more than helped but he is doing a somewhat good job, even if he is sort of obsessed with making some red head his saint or something..."

"One of your sibs is a God?" Impulse gabbed and Klarion just blinked at him with a shrug. "My Grandfather is the ruler of Time, your point is? Wonder Girl is also related to a God of your dimension."

"Never mind him, moving on." A yelp resounded as Superboy pushed Impulse head down leaning in more to see the photo better. "You got one emo looking brother there!"

"Oh that's Yamikumo, he is like a year or two older than me right now, in human years. He barely got any of mom's powers so he choose to try to life a somewhat normal life but weirdly enough he choose a dimension that is ruled by people who have powers and abilities, you know like the Meta Humans of this dimension. Now that I think about it, he is also the only one who actually is studying on how to be a Hero."

"Do you end up fighting with him if he studies to be a hero?" Wonder Girl whisper asked him with a quick glance towards their mentors, to which Klarion shook his head. "As long as we leave the dimensions one of us choose to live in alone we usually don't fight about stuff like that, aside from the usual sibling fights that is. Then again I do have some siblings that like to make bets like who is better at ruling as demon lord, or who can safe a dying timeline quicker."

Danny chuckled again as he watched the kids, Klarion had definitely caused some misunderstandings with his wording. Then again it wasn't like Klarion said anything that wasn't true, but then again his son loved chaos. So there was a suspicion that Klarion intentionally choose the way he worded the explanation about how he and Ellie came to be as well as the rest of siblings.

"So....." Superman slowly started wondering how he should bring up the topic. "...you became a mom at 14?"

"Say Danny is there a way for me to meet this Vlad? You know since we are family." Wonder Woman also asked smiling in a certain way that reminded Danny of Valerie when she was mad but didn't want to show right away how mad she was, to which the Ghost King on reflex could do nothing but gulp for a moment. Not noticing that a green post it note appeared on the table before him.

[asslover4]

Lawlight fanfic recs

Important

This list isn't final, and I'll probably update it as I read more fics

Content warnings will be found in the fics themselves, so I have not put any here

I generally read angst, so this list will have a lot more angst than fluff. However, there is some fluff here and there

Most smut on the list (there isn't that much) will be top L, but there are a few exceptions

Post dividers from here

Last updated: 13/6/25

Mega fics (100k +)

Coexistence is boredom - very plot driven, angst (but also super fun in some parts), slowburn, enemies with benefits to lovers, incomplete (still worth reading though !)

Silence - L has Light sentenced to life in an asylum for the criminally insane, which was a terrible mistake. Angst with a happy ending (you will cry), Matt/Mello, Near and B/Light make a cameo

Long fics (50k - 100k)

Asylum - the prequel to silence. Includes angst, horror and torture

Those who stand for nothing fall for anything - au (Light is a politician and L is a lawyer), political satire, very toxic relationship

Medium fics (10k - 50k)

Phelgenthon river - a very long angsty oneshot. L wins and periodically visits Light in prison

This is how I disappear - not explicitly lawlight. Au in which L wins and Light is executed. Angst.

Hokkaido - what if someone else found the death note and Light became a police detective instead of Kira ? Hurt comfort, long oneshot

Stories about stars - fluff, slowburn, university au, time loop. It's incomplete, but still worth reading

Nothing in the world but my love - fix it fic of the day of L's death. Angst with a happy ending, time loop

Short fics (<10k)

Light Yagami dinner party - post death au. Mostly a Light character study with some Lawlight on the side

Are you, or have you ever been - au in which L wins, angsty oneshot

Painful memories - angsty oneshot, canon compliant. Light thinks about his past with L after killing him

For him I would die - angsty oneshot, canon compliant. Captures the moment of L's death

Silent tears - angsty oneshot, canon compliant. Rooftop scene + L's death

Beware the Ides - angst, canon compliant, oneshot. Captures the day of L's death

Gravity - explores L and Light's relationship in 50 prompts

Victory and defeat - also explores L and Light's relationship in 50 prompts. Angst, high school au

Post mortem - Light visits L's grave after his death. Angst, canon compliant

Point break - another exploration of Lawlight with 50 prompts. Angst, canon compliant

Five times Light gasped L's name and one time he whispered it - 5+1, canon compliant, angst

A house of closed doors - L vists the Yagamis for a family dinner after he and Light make things official and the Kira case is closed. Oneshot, bittersweet

Birthday note - L and Light celebrate Light's birthday. Fluff, au, oneshot

Valentine's day - L and Light spend Valentine's day together. Fluff, oneshot, confession

Wise men say - L vists Light on Christmas 2 years after the Kira case closes. Fluff, oneshot

Sweet things - L and Light text while Light is at uni. Fluff, oneshot

Burn this city - L and Light flirt and go out on a date during the Kira case. Fluff, oneshot

Sword and the pen - the sequel to burn this city. Hurt comfort, oneshot

Birthday - L confesses to Light on his birthday. Fluff, oneshot

Accented - Light likes L's British accent. Fluff, oneshot

Soap - L and Light shower together. Fluff, oneshot

Love letters - L and Light spend Valentine's day together, but things take a dark turn. Angst, oneshot

Judas kisses - Every time L and Light have sex before L dies. Smut, oneshot

Almost staring - L and Light confess to each other during the Yotsuba arc. Fluff, oneshot

Just spit it out - Light confesses to L. Fluff, oneshot

Gamebit - L shows up to give a lecture on Kira at Light's uni. Naturally, Light stays behind after class. Smut, oneshot

Solitude - Light was always lonely before he met L. Hurt comfort, oneshot

Written in the stars - L and Light spend one last night on the rooftop together after Light regains his memories. Bittersweet, oneshot, canon compliant

Just this once - the rooftop scene but L and Light tell each other the truth. Oneshot, canon compliant, angst

The rooftop - the rooftop scene but L and Light kiss. Angst, oneshot, canon compliant

For eternity - L and Light meet in Mu after they both die. Fluff, soulmates au

Memoirs of a murderer - NOT lxlight. A character study of Light in 25 prompts

Over nothing - Light represses his feelings for L. Angst, oneshot, canon compliant

Shadows and parallels - L and Light speculate as they play chess. Oneshot

Burning - angst, canon compliant, j drama fic

You don't need to say anything (I already know)- sickfic, super fluffy

The influenza - canon setting, not explicitly lawlight, sickfic, oneshot

Water, water, water - hurt comfort, yotsuba arc, oneshot

Dreamt of - oneshot, bittersweet

It's only better if you give me your heart - smut w feeling, pining, oneshot

Four - 3 times that Light kisses L and one time that L kisses Light. Canon compliant

The sex is good but that doesn't change the fact that I'll kill you - smut, oneshot

Golden boy - smut, yotsuba arc, oneshot

Fighting back - Light confesses to L. Fluff, oneshot

Midnight snack - oneshot, fluff

Perfectly hollow - What if Light and L had never met ? angst, oneshot, soulmate au

Justice vs Justice - oneshot, yotsuba arc, slightly angsty

In absence of everything - Light confesses to being Kira after another period of solitary confinement. Angst, oneshot

And this is all there ever was - Light confesses to being Kira. Angst, oneshot

Shackles - angst, soulmate au, oneshot

And that is all !! Please let me know if you enjoy them and want more suggestions in the future <3

[karlachismylife]

Saw this and immediately thought of you! I hope your hiatus goes well!

Thank you so much, love! This cuteness was helping me keep it together during my hiatus and as you can see I survived, all thanks to you! Honestly the "thought of you" part just makes me tear up. Being the Hyena CEO of COD fandom is one of my biggest accomplishments (and also the most pleasant one cuz I get cute hyenas in my askbox).

So now that I'm out of my hiatus, let me tell you that these two? SoapGaz all the way.

CW: basically a short spinoff of the Queen of the Clan, can be seen as both canon and non-canon to the main story, so fem!chubby!reader and this is already established poly 141 x reader (ooh spoilers), a little bit of animal (well, shapeshifter) genitalia touching (non-sexual no matter how hard Soap- okay I'm out)

It's already at dusk that you're suddenly tasked with a simple thing everyone just kinda forgot about: there are new camera traps that need to be installed in the further part of the sanctuary, in the middle of the hyena territory, and since your reputation of a hyena whisperer has been firmly established, no one even thinks of other candidates for the late job.

You'd be quite grumpy about it if you didn't know you'll have the sweetest company to keep you safe and entertained.

Once you load the equipment into your backpack and receive written instructions - at least they didn't make you remember all the complicated measurements you'll have to make before setting up the traps - you roll your scooter out onto the dirt road and set off into the quickly darkening night. Fresh wind smells a little bit like sun-warmed dust and grass as it hits your face on the moderate speed, crickets and night birds weaving their song of nature cooling off after sunset, sounds loud enough to fill your head through the revving of weak engine and air swishing in your ears.

Not wearing a helmet is one of the least reckless things you've been up to just last month, and you can't lie, you feel a little bit power-drunk and allmighty after what you've gone through. Certain fellas do nothing to put you back on earth, shamelessly encouraging your power trip.

After all, the more confident the queen, the stronger the clan.

It's as if the wind picked up your thoughts, filled with the same four someones as always, and carried it over into the breathing with full chest savannah - because you're not even halfway to your end point and there's already loud whooping, two familiar voices, cutting through the air closer and closer to the road. Luckily for all of you, they make sure to get even louder and run a few dozens meters through the tall grass framing the curb, before two large silouettes jump out on the road to escort you in leisurely pace.

There's something so satisfying in the realization that you actually managed to indentify them just by their voices - Gaz's melodic, always slightly purring whooping somehow still distinct even when there are Soap's excited, hasty whoops, almost tripping over themselves and getting grabled with the inexplainable accent he carries into his hyena form too. Their big forms traverse the road effortlessly, even Soap's bulky body taking on that predatory elegance to match Gaz in his dark, determined trotting - they make some loops around you and your scooter, tails raised in excitement, and and shut up only after you turn the engine off at your stop, propping the machine on its stand.

Soap nearly jumps you, balancing poorly on one hind leg and trying to paw at you with both front ones, screeching and whining with his widest smile and tongue lolling out. You chuckle and boop his wide nose, ready to bend down for some kisses, but Gaz, ever the polite one, nudges your hip with his dark muzzle and raises his leg too.

Right. They really wanted you to get in onto the whole greeting ritual - sitting you down for a gentle talk and reassuring it that it's not weird, if it's them. They're not animals, they're just... animal-shaped. Your arguement about palming crotches as a greeting being weird with humans to was kinda just thrown away. After all, they're your clan, they're yours, why would anything be weird between you?

So you oblige, crouching with a sigh and running some quick bellyrubs down their patiently waiting bodies, until you reach two proudly erect hyena members. It's just a ritual, it'll help them with watever scent-hierarchy-service thing they've got going on, you have to remind yourself, as you briefly skim over their genitals and pull your hands away, wiping them off on the boys' fur and slapping Soap's fluffy butt for trying to grind into your palm.

"You try that again and I'm never touching you again, Stinky, you hear me?" You even make a point out of returning the old nickname, and watch with satisfaction as Soap's fluffy ears lower miserably and he dips down to the ground, the embodiment of guilt.

Not for long, though - after he gets a kiss on the nose from you, Gaz jumps Soap and bites his scruff, starting a scuffle. Their commanding officers seem to be busy, so Sergeants have a lot of energy to spare - you know that better than anyone.

Yesterday bitemarks on your thighs still sting as you unload your backpack and pull all the equipment out. Leaning your butt against the scooter, you put on the little headlamp and start reading through your instructions, laughing and fighting off both Soap and Gaz that stopped playfighting just to rummage and sniff through your things.

"Shush! Mum's reading, it's important," you throw at them, earning two sets of outraged huffs - no need to understand hyena language to hear the "you're not our mum" hidden between grumpy sneezes. It works, though, both hyenas plop their asses next to you, Gaz leaning against your hip to get some chin scratches and Soap playing with the strap of your backpack, throwing it around, tugging and chewing on the buckle in the middle. "Okay, it shouldn't be long. Hey, can you help me?"

They both jump up immediately, Soap puffing his chest out and fluffing up his mane just to show how helpful he is, Gaz just standing patiently, only reaching his neck to try and sneak a peek into the paper you're holding.

"I'll be doing some measurements, and you guys please dig a little holes where I say, okay? Not deep, just... well, to fit that thing, see?" You nod at one of the camera traps and after they both inspect it with thorough sniffs and shy nibbles and grumble in understanding, you get that laser tape measure - much easier to use alone and in the night.

Finding one of the spots you need to measure from, you crouch, set the laser and look down at the number on the screen. Too close. With a grunt, you scoot a little further and press the button again. Aha, there!

"Okay, so can you now make a hole right where the laser dot is? Guys?" Confused by the lack of movement from your usually very eager to help and serve hyenas, you look up.

Only to see them both staring at the little dot of your tape measure with tails on high alert and legs in a wide stance, prime for pouncing.

For fuck's sake, you forgot they're basically overgrown spotted cats.

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

[muddyorbsblr]

the brink of eternity pt1

See my full list of works here!

Summary: You arrive in New Asgard to its citizens rebuilding from the wreckage brought on by the god butcher's attack

Pairing: Loki x Sorceress!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning/s: language (like 2 cuss words…still not sorry, Rogers); canon-divergent up the damn wazoo; mentions of major character deaths; mention of injuries; allusions to cancer; my still rusty af writing [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: assumed unrequited love; Reader is a magic-wielding Avenger that trained in Kamar Taj after the events of Endgame

It had been a while since you went to visit the town that was once known as Tonsberg, but even when Thor in his tragedy-driven downward spiral and Val were surrounded by wood and bricks and cobblestone still waiting to be put together and turned into a new home for the thousands of now homeless Asgardians, it didn't look this…desolate.

Charred wooden planks were dumped onto the middle of the street along with other torn and shredded belongings from the affected homes. The citizens, their soot-covered faces a mix of distraught and exhausted, gave you barely a passing glance even as they clocked your clean clothes, bag slung over your shoulder.

From what stories Thor and Loki shared before, Asgardians were notorious gossips. They seemed to always find a way to whisper amongst themselves when something intrigued them even in the slightest, no matter the circumstance.

Almost always, it seemed, as today felt like the exception to that rule. Their gazes were fixed to the ground, the eerie quiet buzzing of the town comprised of sniffles and shaky breaths. Sounds you were achingly familiar with, hearing them all around you when half the world turned to dust just over half a decade ago.

Sounds of people frantically trying to get hold of their families on the phone, bracing and fearing for the worst.

"Y/N?" Val's voice pierced through the quiet, all heads turning toward her and the whispering intrigue finally starting amongst the villagers.

Our King knows this stranger, they said. You paid them no mind as you walked toward her and let the warrior king pull you into an embrace. When her wince at the contact hit your ears, you grasped at her shoulders, looking her over frantically.

"What happened?"

"You know how it is, my friend. Stab wound, kidney puncture, same old song and --"

"Stab wound?!" you raised your voice to a near shriek, even more panicked over her nonchalant delivery. "Val, what. Happened."

"God killer," she sighed. "Well, he prefers to call himself a god butcher, wields the Necrosword hellbent on making sure that the gods no longer walk this or any other realm." She motioned toward the distraught citizens. "He took the children to lure Thor to him because he needed to summon the Bifrost. Poor oaf's there now all alone trying to rescue them."

"Wait where's there?"

"Thor has gone to the Gates of Eternity. The Bifrost is the key to unlock them and if he does, well…" She sliced her finger along her throat. "Goodbye, gods. Much as I wish to be there to aid him, he's quite determined to have me and Jane rest."

"Hold on, Jane's here? Where is she?"

Val pointed towards the hospital, already walking towards it. "We've much to catch up on, little witchy." Just as she looped her arm through yours, there was a loud bang that came from the hospital, and you saw a blonde woman dressed like Thor flying up into the sky on the back of Warsong with Mjolnir in hand. "Oh no…"

"Is that--?"

"Jane? Yes." Your heart caught in your throat as you saw the tears forming in the warrior's eyes as she told you of Jane's diagnosis. How Mjolnir grants her health and vitality when she wields the hammer, but at the cost of her mortality. "She's gone to fight alongside Thor. Quite certainly to die in battle, too."

Every thought in your head screamed the same thing. "I have to stop her. I've gotta get to Eternity."

After reassuring her that you had sufficient enough means and magic to find your way, Val told you where to find the gates.

At the center of the universe, she said. But that it might be a more accurate shot for the sling ring you had on hand if you focused on Thor instead.

Right before you began to conjure the portal to bring you to your friend, the weakened warrior held your forearm firmly. Desperately. "Please don't die," she pled faintly, already misty eyed just saying the words. "Beat Gorr to Eternity, and keep him from making his wish."

Stepping through the circular glowing portal brought you to an elaborate temple made of what seemed like some celestial-grade stone. The entire place was aglow with lightning striking from multiple places at once, and in front of you was Stormbreaker summoning the Bifrost, seeming to power up a portal to what you could only guess was the Eternity that Val mentioned.

A visibly weakened Jane summoned a lightning strike that hit Gorr's weapon dead on, crumbling what remained of the sword into dust right before she began to collapse to the ground. You took the god butcher's slow triumphant walk to the gate as your cue.

"And who might you be?" he said, pausing to look you head to toe, assessing your power. "You are no god, but you're not entirely mortal, either."

"Hello, Gorr," you said with a sly grin, grabbing a hold of him and throwing him yards away from the gate with your magic. "Goodbye, Gorr."

"Y/N?" you heard Thor weakly mumble your name, relieved when he saw you walking backwards toward the blindingly glowing archway that opened up.

The last thing you heard before you all were transported to a vast white expanse was Gorr's defeated outcry of "Noooo!"

"Make your wish, sorceress," a voice spoke in your mind. When you turned to face the source, all you saw was a skyscraper of a silhouette…consisting of an endless sea of galaxies and stars. "Whatever you desire can and shall be so. Name it. And it shall be yours."

Those words brought you to your knees, the gravity of your situation weighing down on you like a cartoon anvil just dead dropped onto your shoulders. Agonizing memories of the loss and heartache you'd experienced and witnessed in the last few years alone, all the grief you kept bottled up inside, coming at you all at once.

From coming back to the Compound after the Time Heist, only to discover that you were all one Avenger short. Finding out that Nat sacrificed herself so the rest of you could have the Soul Stone.

To the loss of Tony and having to be there to hold Morgan as she cried and thrashed, calling out for her father after the defeat of Thanos and his army. And the loss of Steve shortly after that, realizing the super soldier chose to stay in the past and resume what he believed should have been his life with Peggy Carter. Then Bucky's subsequent pulling away from the team after that.

Losing Wanda, and the look on her face when you stood against her during the fight at Kamar Taj. Only hearing about it in the hours following the wreckage of the temple, and Wong's return, that your friend had perished by her own hand in Wundagore. That in her final moments, she was all alone, believing that this was the only way to ensure the safety of this and all other universes from the dark magic she held.

And then there was the loss that started it all for you, the one that had you slowly but steadily pulling away since the fight at Wakanda. Loki. Seeing his brother come in to the battlefield fueled by rage, and hearing his voice devoid of any strength as he told you about the god of mischief's fate when Thanos seized their ship to relieve them of the Tesseract.

All those words that you held back on saying for fear of having them thrown back in your face with a derisive laugh…they felt like lead in the back of your throat as soon as Thor had told you the news. And you beat yourself up for being so scared and childish to hide it all away like a schoolgirl with a crush. The loss of him, even though he wasn't yours to lose, numbed you. And you swore to never love again.

Love only ever got you hurt.

But looking back at the blond Asgardian, holding the frail body of his love in his arms…you knew that he wouldn't survive if he had to suffer another great loss. If he had to lose Jane. You knew that there were people that you cared about back on Earth that were still grieving and picking up the pieces of their lives.

And you had the opportunity to relieve them of that grief. To spare them the numbness that that same loss had dealt you.

"Look in my heart," you whispered to the entity. "You know what I want."

"It shall be yours, sorceress. Live well," were the last words you heard before Jane's sharp inhale. Like her lungs were near empty and she was gulping in air.

When you looked back at them, she'd visibly regained color, near identical smiles of wonder and relief on her and Thor's faces. Even from this far away, you could sense it. Whatever sickness plagued her body was gone. Every trace of it.

"You--?" Thor asked, pointing a finger toward you as you approached them.

"Guess so," you answered him with a little shrug. "How you feeling, Doctor Foster?"

"Like I could wrestle a horse," she told you with a big grin. "Thank you."

Before you could conjure up another portal to bring you all home, more voices emerged from behind the entity.

"Y/N?"

"Sparky?"

"Lady Y/N?"

Natasha. Tony. Heimdall.

"My friend, what did you wish for?"

You looked back at the bewildered god, grasping his best friend's shoulders and trying to adjust to the new reality that he had returned. "I honestly don't know, I just said that Eternity should know what I want and--"

"Brother?"

The air left your lungs at the sound of the new voice. The voice you'd missed hearing for the better part of the last decade. Your heart beat erratically in your chest watching Loki emerge from behind Eternity and walk toward all of you, already holding his hands up in caution upon seeing Nat and Tony. "I swear I have no intention of harming--"

"We know, Reindeer Games," Stark said, holding his hand out toward the god. "Thor told us all about what you did. You're alright by my book as long as you don't try and raise another ugly ass alien army to take over the world."

Before he could say anything in return, Thor pulled his brother into a tight embrace. "It's good to see you, too, Brother," he said in a strained voice. "But how am I here?"

"Y/N reached Eternity. And she made a wish," Jane answered him, also holding her hands up. "No slaps this time, I promise."

"Y/N?" he said your name breathlessly, nudging his brother out of the way and looking around until his eyes met yours. You did your best not to fidget or pick at your clothes as he made his way over to you, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat when he framed your face with his hands.

"Hiya, Mischief," you mumbled, seeing Tony and Nat give each other a look from the corner of your eye as they slowly backed away, choosing instead to reunite and get up to speed with the other Asgardian.

"This was your doing?" The way his thumbs stroked at your cheeks had you unable to form words, only managing a meek little nod.

"Not bad for a stupid little--" The rest of your words died in a squeak at the back of your throat, cut off by the god pressing his lips to yours.

"Sweet precious mortal," he sighed against your lips. "There are many words I could use to describe you, and 'stupid' will never be one of them."

Before he could kiss you again, you heard multiple people clear their throats, your friends looking at the two of you with knowing and teasing smirks. "Perhaps we should make our way home first, Brother?"

Loki brushed the tip of his nose against yours before threading his fingers between yours, jutting his chin at the lightning bolt in his brother's hand. "Zeus?"

"Long story," he answered simply.

"He stabbed Zeus and stole it," Jane said in a stage whisper.

"Perhaps not such a long story after all," Thor said, chuckling as he held on to his girlfriend's hand, the astrophysicist summoning Mjolnir with her other hand.

"That's a long story even I don't know yet," you told Loki when he squeezed your hand lightly and tilted his head at the couple, Jane now sporting that near-identical armor and crimson cape that the blond god wore.

"Everybody hold on," Thor called out to you all, a large ball made of yellow lightning materializing all around you and spinning at a furiously fast pace. You blinked once, and when you opened your eyes again, you were in the same ruins of New Asgard that you walked through just earlier today.

Val was already there walking toward you all with a relieved look on her face that morphed into confusion when she saw Tony…and then Loki. "I take it Y/N beat the butcher to Eternity?" You all just nodded at her. "Well then, welcome back, all of you." Then she pulled Jane into a hug, playfully pushing Thor away. "I'm so glad you're alive." The king looked up, eyes meeting yours before she mouthing the words, 'Thank you.'

"We were lucky Y/N got there when she did," Thor told her. "What did bring you to New Asgard, my friend? It has been ages since last we spoke."

"I lost Wanda," you sighed, a lump forming in your throat again just saying the words. "And losing her made me realize I've been a shit friend to--well, everyone. Ever since…" You caught yourself before the rest of that sentence came out.

Ever since you told me Loki died, you finished quietly in your mind.

"Ever since Wakanda…the snap…" you told them out loud. You tried to shrug it all off, only to realize that Loki still held your hand in his. "Speaking of that stupid purple ballsacked chin little bitch…I should be getting you two back to New York," you addressed Tony and Nat. "There's at least three people whose worlds are about to turn for the better knowing you're back."

A/N: Okay so I fully intended to lay low and take my time normalizing after the complete insanity that October dealt me on a personal level, but then I rewatched Love and Thunder because I was in need of a comfort watch and I said "I don't like that ending, not one bit…lemme fix it". And slowly but surely the writer brain started its lil awkward shuffle back into the chat 😅

RTC and 'the final Lady Sharpe' are still at the top of the todo pile, and I'm still scared to touch them but I might work at it bit by bit, we'll see. And also this will have a part 2…because yes they might have kissed and they're holding hands but dammit they need to talk 🫠

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist

[axolotl4days]

Yandere! Royal family × Neglected Reader

The Reborn Royal Part 1

Summary: This is one of those storys where y/n is born to royal family but the family treats them horribly and they become reborn and try to change their fate. Except, this y/n has been through the loop many. Many times, always meeting their doom, until one loop it suddenly changes

Tw: violence, abuse, yandere behavior(all platonic), descriptions of death, mentions of suicide and self harm.

Another day of torment has gone bye, as usual.

This time y/n had "embaressed" the family at a royal ball ruining their older siblings proposals. And being punished heavily for it.

Beaten and bruised y/n retreated to the library, one of the only places you know is safe from the torment on account of how large it is. Always finding books that have been hidden away covered in dust for who knows how long.

The library was always so quiet, you always liked that about it, you weren't yelled at here, weren't beaten here due to the importance of the library.

So you were free to explore and read to your hearts content, thats when you found it.

A book unlike anything you've ever seen before, a book with no cover, and seemingly having empty pages until you reach the middle of the book and see it written.

"Ask for it and it shall be yours. But be careful what you wish for"

You wonder what this means, you've seen magic before, even learned it in some previous lives, but you've never known magic, let alone any books that could grant wishes. Still, after so many lifetimes of pain and suffering, you think about what to wish for that could save you from this.

"I... I wish for my life to change, to have a loving, caring family, to go throughout my days not needing to fear pain just for existing" y/n starts to sob, wishful thinking they think to themselves, that is until the text on the book starts to move around and change.

"Your wish has been granted. The next time you wake up your life will be changed forever" the text then fades from the book as if it was never there in the first place. Y/n puts the book back where they found it and filled with hope that they hadn't had in a long time, they head off to bed hoping that the book worked and that finally things will change for the better.

....

.......

It does not.

Nothing seems to have changed. Everything is the same as it was. It's been a few weeks since you've made your wish, and unfortunately the torment hasn't let up, not even a little bit. Your Mother and Father, the Queen and King respectively continue to ignore your existence completely, ashamed to have birthed a useless child like you. Throughout your lives no matter what you did they always saw you the same, it shouldn't still hurt after so long but it does.

Your siblings, have changed, but only for the worst, since your last embaressment on them your older brothers have been pushing you around more and more, your older sister, while she doesn't harm you physically whenever she's near you she makes it her job to remind you about how much of a failure you are. How you always ruin everything.

You never should have gotten your hopes up. You don't know why you even try anymore. What's the point of living through these lives if the outcome is all the same, waiting for the day you'll die in some horrible way, usually killed, but there has been the occasional accident.

Something snaps. You can't live like this anymore, maybe... maybe if instead of being killed... maybe if you kill yourself it'll all stop...

And that's what you do.

While the rest of your "family" is hosting another ball to repair the damage you've done. You make your move, heading to one of the palace balconys and ending it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Royal Family have just announced they are having another child, they should be rejoicing but ever since the Queen discovered she was pregnant they whole family seems to have fallen under a curse of some kind.

Visions of the future, of pain, of... a person? They've never seen this person yet they look so much like them. And they see themselves too but.. somethings wrong with them. The visions are horrible, seeing each of them hurting this unknown person.

At first the Queen thought she was just having pregnancy nightmares, but then she overhears her boys fighting about something they've seen.

The Royal family gathers to discuss and discovers that they've all been getting this visions, visions of different lives, of this persons different lives. They've discovered that their visions line up, but still have many differences.

Preists, Mages, Wizards, they've called everyone they could from all over the kingdom that could possibly explain what's happening to them. To make it stop.

But none of them could figure it out.

This continues for months and they only seem to get worse. At first it was merely people who looked like them being rude, or obnoxious, or bullys, but has time went on the people in these visions got meaner. Got violent. And then the deaths started to show.

They can only watch in horror as this person dies time and time again. They refuse to believe that the people in these visions could be them. Why would they ever hurt this "y/n" this way. They don't understand it. The children wake up screaming so often that for the last month of the Queens pregnancy the family refuses to leave each other's side.

And then it happens. The day that changes everything. The day the Queen gives birth, they all have one final vision, for once, it's the same vision as well. They see this "y/n" holding a book, making their wish, and then... jumping

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything is dark, and for a moment, you think this may really be the end for once... so many emotions all at once but there's no time to think before there's a bright light and you open up your eyes.

And you see them. It didn't work. You start to cry, and you cry hard, you immediately expect to be handed over to a maid as always, but instead the queen Your mother, she keeps you in her arms and tries her best to comfort you. Looking at you for the first time and she cries.

This is strange. She's never reacted like this, she's never held you like this she's-

"It's her."

A states, you can't see him but you recognize your father's voice. The voice of a king is hard to forget.

"There she is. Y/n."

You flinch at your name being said, you don't think anything of it, but they notice. They never wanna see you flinch again. Your only a baby. Your THEIR baby.

They have you now. So small, so delicate, so fragile, they won't let anyone hurt you. They've seen the visions, they've seen your deaths, and while you don't know it. They've vowed to never let you go through any of that ever again.

No matter what. You will get what you wished for. They'll make sure of it.

[tanoraqui]

In Which Space Orcs are Men

[AO3] A "what if humans are space orcs" take on Dagor Dagorath. (Aka the prophecied apocalypse of Middle Earth. Scifi story accessible to non-LotR nerds!)

Elves weren't really supposed to leave Earth. That's what they told us—the Elves, that is, told people thousands of years ago, when Elves could still be found here and there. When I was born, elves were nearly as much a fairy tale as they’d been on Ancient Earth.

Elves weren't supposed to leave Earth, the Elves said in the fairy tales, and in a few old scraps of records scattered around known space. They literally weren't made for it. They could only do it if they brought Earth with them—Arda they called it, leaves or dirt, water or a rare bubble of air, perfectly preserved in a white crystal. There are tons of tales about Elves losing their lifeline jewels—their hearts, their silimirs—and roping people into epic quests to get them back before they—the Elf—faded to nothingness. 

Even the jewels weren't enough, though. That's why there are also stories about Elves who fell in love with a person or a place and stayed there until they faded, or Elves who charmed someone into following them back to Fairyland on Earth...because whatever they said, Elves didn't really live on Earth. Humans have maintained their home planet as a monitored nature reserve since like the 40th century, open only to vetted research teams and serious Human religious pilgrimages. The most confirmed accounts of Elves that exist are of their ships appearing out of nowhere, with no trace of any tech that would enable it, at random, always-changing points within 100 miles or so of Earth.

Nobody ever came back from trying to follow Elves home. Mostly Elves tried to dissuade people from trying. But there are always crazy and curious people—and Elves usually attracted those, because any Elf who left the home they were "made" for was usually crazy and curious themselves. 

Those were the stories I grew up with. There was a cave near the orphans' creche which was supposed to be haunted by a faded Elf. I didn't really believe it—like I said, the last confirmed Elf was last seen like 5,000 years ago, and not even on my planet. People have met two dozen new sentient races since then. We've discovered that reincarnation is probably real (just functionally untrackable), prompting the Pan-Religious Reform Wars. The last person to see a live Elf was still traveling via natural wormholes—they literally didn't know that you could loop pi.

.

When the Human natal sun started to turn really red, it wasn’t that big a deal at first. It’s a very important, very sad event for any species, but it happens to everyone eventually. It happened to the Hectort just after we invented interstellar flight. There were some unusual gravatic waves around Earth’s Sol, but nothing worth noting to anyone who didn’t already care for personal reasons.

Then the Elves sent us a message.

The local Parks Service picked it up, of course. I bet the Humans meant to hush it up at first—though the Centaurian government still won’t admit anything—but someone leaked it immediately on the intergalactic net. It should’ve only been famous as a joke of a hoax, but…

It was basically just a metal box with rudimentary fire-thrusters soldered on the sides. It contained two things. The first was a recording/replaying device so antiquated that the only way they got it working is that it was already playing on loop, and didn’t stop until someone disconnected it from its power source.

The message was in Ancient Bouban, which some folklorist soon announced is the latest language an Elf could know, since the last known Elf went back to “Arda.” The voice somehow sounded melodic to every species with a concept of music, from the screeching Vesarians to the deep-sea sub-sonic Thinkers, even when translated through cheap, staticky speakers. And to most species, the speaker was audibly distraught.

They said,

This is the final message from the Firstborn of Eru to the Secondborn, and everyone else. The Battle of Battles has come, and we…are losing. If there are any who remember the ancient love and loyalty which bound our peoples, if there are any heirs remaining of Thargalax the Magnificent, of Nine-Fingered Frodo, of the noble Houses of Haleth, Hador and Beor—

The speaker drew a sharp breath, there.

—by great oaths and greater friendship I bid you now to raise your swords and ride to our aid. Ride as swiftly as you can!

We will hold for another year. We will, they said determinedly. After that, it is unlikely that…

Another, shakier breath. A smile forced into a voice which would rather weep.

Fëanáro and Nienna believe there is a way to destroy the Straight Road. If we must, if it comes to it, we will do so, and trap the First Enemy here in this dying world with us. Though I don’t know about—

Hair-aristocrat! a more distant, slightly less perfectly melodious voice called, in a language so dead that they needed computers to decode it. The walls are falling, we need to go!

If you never hear from us again, and no sudden discord arises among you, you will know we succeeded, the first speaker said quickly. If otherwise…I am sorry. Either way, I bid you all only, remember us! Oh beautiful flames, remember us, as we have ever remembered y— 

There was a sudden screech of tearing metal, a defiant, musical battle-cry, and a jarring silence. Then the message restarted.

And that wasn’t even the strangest thing in the box. The strangest thing was the recorder’s power source, which was powering the whole tiny rocket mechanism as well. It was an Elf-jewel right out of a fairy tale, a fist-sized, translucent not-quite-diamond—but instead of rock or water or a much-loved scrap of plant, the only thing it held was light.

...Kind of. It isn’t normal light. It arguably isn’t light at all, as we know it—scientists now think it’s technically some sort of plasmoid aether, except it only acts like a plasmoid aether about half the time. 

It has no detectable source within the jewel. It fully illuminates whatever space it’s in, no matter how big. Its visible radiation is a frequency, the scientists say, that matches a hyper-accelerated version of what the universe must’ve sounded like in the split second after the Big Bang.

It makes people remember things, when they see it in person or sometimes even across a holo. Some remember a similar light in a strange traveler’s eyes. Others, dreamily enchanted valleys where spring never faded, or tall castles, bright swords, and stern and glorious lords and ladies. And some of us got hit with a whole lifetime of memories in one go: an identical gem on the brow of a sober forest king, friends who slipped through trees like shadows save for their merry laughter, an impossibly beautiful gold-haired maiden dancing in a glittering cavern...

(And all the pain and loss that came with them.)

And some people just remember the sight of a distant star—in another world, in another lifetime.

Reincarnation was provable but untraceable…until now. 

The Thinker ambassador on Astrolax Station 5 was the first to kick up a fuss. Most Thinkers never leave their home planet, they're too huge and aquatic. But like I said, there's always crazy and curious people. The ambassador started bellowing the second che heard the message, without even seeing the light, because, "I know him! My Wisdom! We must send aid!" That made some news, and random other people shared their own, less dramatic revelations, and soon a compilation swept the net with timestamps showing that most of them were organically independent, not just jumping on the bandwagon….

Even that might've gotten written off intergalactically. The Thinkers are big in reincarnationist circles, on account of how they claim that deep in their planetary ocean they can hear echoes of their past lives. But being mostly planet-bound means they're not really influential on a big political level. Or it would've sparked another surge of the Reform Wars, and everybody would've remembered the rock, but not the recording. Or there would’ve been a fight over this potentially infinite energy source (though that is so last giga-annum)….

But first it was shown in person to the current Director of the Admiralty of the Astral Alliance, President of the X-ee Empire and Matron of the House of S,sh, Ch’ees/i’i S,sh. I was actually there—I was Captain of her ceremonial Alliance guards, in a last-ditch attempt to salvage my career after Zanzibus. Very ceremonial, considering the X-eee have laser-proof shells and pincers and I have, what, opposable thumbs? Vestigial tusks?

I wasn’t paying attention at first, too busy being suddenly assaulted by all my own memories. So I missed the President freezing mid-step and gasping (in X-eee), “Mother.” I also missed her rising alarm call of an attempt to speak Ancient Elvish without an Elvish tongue or lips.

I sure didn’t miss her snap back to X-eee for a sharp call to attention, and everything that followed: the call to arms! The rousing of the Alliance! A tour of the galaxy, to find anyone and everyone else in whom the Light could awaken ancient memories! And for the love of X'eeh, why had nobody figured out how to get back to Fairyland with this thing yet, and every warship in the quadrant?!

If I believed in the One Behind, or in any other creator god or gods—I'm not saying I do, but if I did, if there really is something out there all-powerful and all-kind—then it'd be because out of every soul in the entire universe, the probably one in the best position to act on the Elves' message turned out to have, from a past life, two parents and a much-loved twin still in Fairyland. Like, that's insane, right?

I stayed with the Director's ceremonial guards for the whole tour, actually more than ceremonial for once—it was the weirdest mission of my life, and I've been on a lot of weird missions. Or supposedly routine missions that got weird (and usually disastrous). My friends joke that I'm cursed. S,sh requisitioned an Inquiry-class ship, so the science boffins could study the Light and jewel along the way, and we started wormholing at weft speed, hitting a new planet every week. Sometimes every day. In each major spaceport and ground-city, S,sh stood with the jewel on the highest available point and gave a recruitment speech for going to save the Elves and fight the oldest enemy of all reality. 

Honestly, it seemed a little redundant? The Astral Alliance was made for this sort of rescue mission (and for escorting trade convoys). But I was...if not happy, then sure as hell more self-certain with my ancient memories restored, and most people who joined up seemed to agree. It was mostly people who remembered, when exposed to the Light, who joined—so before long, we had a whole tag-along trail of mostly civilian ships, trying to get up to Alliance Fleet standard on the road in less than a year.

Three different religious sects tried to kill S,sh for "profaning the mysteries." Five others tried to steal the jewel because we were apparently appropriating a holy object. The boffins announced that, bar the can't-prove-a-negative possibility, the evidently sourceless Light should be counted as an infinite energy source, and at least seven different groups, ruthless financiers and sustainability idealists, immediately tried to steal it for that. And I still don't know what the rival thief-queens of Likkiliani were about, except that I got tied up upside-down from a palmdar tree for two hours trying to stop one, the other paid me 700 cron then threw me off a cliff, and in the end they recognized each other from past lives and just made out on worldwide live-holo before joining our growing fleet. 

It turned out they were the Director's past life's great-grandparents, and a Canid pop princess was her niece. The Thinker ambassador was some sort of ancestor, too. Crazy extended family. 

Most people who remember just remember the sight of a star in the sky. A buddy of mine from Fleet Academy remembered looking up at it as a Human sailor. The historians—and you’d better bet we picked up some Earther historians on this mission as well!—say this jewel or one like it was probably astrologically conflated with the planet Venus by early Humans.

(The more time I spent around the jewel, the Silmaril, the more I remembered, of my first life and more. Lifetime after lifetime with bad luck dogging my steps, killing loved ones in my arms, destroying cities I was supposed to save… One restless, haunted night, I met a Rigilic in the cafeteria who’d been awake with some of the same nightmares, who’d been my dead older sister once.)

The tour was cut short when word came from the Earth system that there was a black hole growing in the center of their reddening sun. 

No, the sun wasn’t compressing into a black hole millennia ahead of schedule—one had just spontaneously manifested within it, like it’d teleported in. No, not literally—that was impossible. We were pretty sure. No, the sun wasn’t falling into it…somehow. Yet. The black hole was only 17 quectometers wide, but it was growing at an erratic but unceasing rate. If their best estimation of the pattern held, it would consume the sun 2 months before the Elves’ deadline, and the Earth 4 to 950 minutes later.

We pulled back to Earth—well, to the dwarf planet Eros, on the edges of Earth’s star system. That’s where the nearest shipyard of any note was, and we were gathering the whole Astral Alliance. This is exactly the sort of thing the Alliance is for. 

I was released back to ship duty. Zanzibus was still a black mark on my record, as was Jorab, and really everything on the AAS Endeavor…and that thing in third year of Fleet Academy… But no matter how bad my curse, I was an experienced captain and one of the best pilots in the Alliance. For this, we needed all the best.

The boffins had pretty quickly mastered limited manipulation of the Light, using modified aetheric resonators, and every day they came up with something new for us to test. They focused the Light into a laser cannon like no one has seen before. They laced it through plasma shields until a fully shielded ship glowed like a distant star. They managed to nearly replicate the Silmaril’s crystalline structure, so they could make “copies” that shone like the original for first a few hours; then, with refinement, a full week…

The one thing they couldn’t pin down with any real confidence was how to get to Fairyland. The frequency of the Light resonated with large bodies of Earther saltwater in a particular way, and models suggested that if the Light source moved horizontally along the water within a certain range of distance and velocity, the resonance would create a wormhole-like ripple in space—but wormhole-like, was the key word, and models suggested. The closest anyone had seen to that spatial distortion was in a logbook of dubious veracity from the Delta Quadrant, four hundred years ago. Alteia, my Academy buddy who’d been a Human sailor, took the Silmaril in an M-wing on a series of highly monitored test flights above the Atlantic Ocean, and space did repeatedly start to hollow in front of bom—so bo had to stop every time, rather than risk vanishing with our single, maybe-one-way ticket.

Then Earth’s moon stopped shining in the sky. Its albedo just dropped nearly to zero, from one night to the next. There was nothing wrong that anyone could figure out—nothing with the orbit, nothing with the surface rock, nothing with the artificial atmosphere. Inhabitants reported feeling colder by several degrees, but no measuring equipment recorded anything.

The black hole slightly off-center in the middle of Sol was now 844.9 zeptometers, and growing more steadily.

We didn’t have time to keep testing. We needed to raise our swords and make our ride, even if we only got one shot at it.

I was given command, for seniority, skill, and because I was the one who managed to talk S,sh out of leading the fleet herself. (If my lives had taught me anything, it was the importance of having someone, anyone, ready to be emergency backup.) Ironically, I was back on the Endeavor, with most of my old crew—though we got permission to rename the ship, in honor of the mission. A lot of people did. Alteia was now commanding the AAS Elendil on my right flank, star-friend in Ancient Elvish. That Canid pop princess had taken over a hospital ship and renamed it Rivendell. An Earth Park Ranger, of all things, remembered being my dad—briefly—and he was leading the Rangers plus my Rigilic drinking buddy on the EPSS Elfsheen. 

We weren’t sure if any ship but the one with the Silmaril would get through. The fleet numbered in the hundreds in battleships alone, not counting scouts and scuttlers. Twelve races had sent ships on top of their typical Alliance Fleet tithe, and S,sh had brought about half the full force of the X-ee Empire. We all just locked tractor beams and hoped. 

I was piloting as well as captaining, with the Silmaril between my forehorns. It was held in place by about a dozen wires and other connectors to the ship, like an old-timey pilot’s headset. We took off in orbit around Earth, as close as possible to the surface—not very close, in warships of Class S and higher, but within range of the oceanic resonance. A Likkilianian thief-queen stood at my shoulder, ready to advise if anything “Musical” started to happen.

Think about what you’re trying to get to, and why, the boffins had advised, so I did—bright-eyed kings and dancing maidens; lost friends, families, cities, planets and all. The jewel got warmer against my skin and shone brighter with every pulse of the engine, brighter than we should’ve been able to see through.

The silver-gold Light twisted and diffused as space did around us. But there was no familiar rippling wormhole boundary—instead, spacetime thinned to a curtain like driving rain, like Vesarian silver-glass.

A ghost appeared next to me. She looked like the oldest, grumpiest writing teacher at the crèche, though I knew that was only in my head.

“There you are,” she said, impatient and relieved like I’d been hiding in the sandbox again, rather than coming to class on time. Her sewing scissors went snip snip snip as she darted them around my body—and a chain on my soul faded into guiding threads.

Before she’d even disappeared again, I punched the engine and blasted through the silver-glass curtain.

Fairy tales said there’d be a peerlessly beautiful land on the other side, green with eternal spring, full of endless light and laughter. They said there’d be sunlit shores and shimmering waves, with welcoming docks for sea-ships, sky-ships and space-ships all…

We flew into the worst battlefield I’d ever seen, in any lifetime. It was more desperately vicious than Jerusalem V at the height of the Reform Wars, more ruined than Glaurung’s wake, more desolate than Zanzibus after the nuclears fell.

Either a massive supercontinent or a small moon had been shattered, leaving nothing but a roiling debris field. The brand-new meteoroids ranged from pebbles to rocks the size of a small space station, and included space-frozen corpses, forests, and what might have once been city blocks.

I gave the helm back to my Pilot Officer—zer had, I can admit, slightly better reflexes for dodging debris—and focused on captaining.

Most of the life signs were clinging to the larger rocks. There shouldn’t have been atmosphere for them, but walls of thunderstorm wrapped around every shard with even a single life sign—wind and water desperately hand in hand to safeguard the last of the Elves. The only thing visible through the impossible storms was the Light of a second Silmaril, on a meteoroid shaped like half a broken eggshell.

A corpse lay at the epicenter of the explosion—what might’ve been a corpse, if it wasn’t also shattered. The broken pieces of a massive stone humanoid, taller than my ship if it’d stood beside her, still bleeding lava so hot that it burned even in frozen space. Another titan knelt at the shards of its head, a figure of towering bark and leaves, wailing with grief even worse than the end of the world. 

A slimmer tree-woman stood with one hand on her shoulder, comforting, and the other wielding a skyscraper-sized club spiked with incandescent wildflowers. Guarding her sister’s heartbreak, she fended off a swarm of bat-sized monsters with wings of darkness and whips of flame. 

Bat-sized relative to the gods of Elves and ancient Humans. About the size of an M-wing, in flight.

Countless more of the bat-things flung themselves at the storm-bubbles, like carnivores chasing the prey hidden inside. They were fended off by an equal army of creatures with wings of light and swords of lightning, led by a towering figure who seemed to dance from one bloody battle to the next.

The biggest battle by far was the farthest away, over where the sun had been. In this dimension of stories over science, Sol was another woman-shape, smaller than the others but burning just as brightly as her star. Also just as blood-red. The light was centered on a fist she kept clenched at her chest, and instead of containing the black hole, the unseeable thing that it was here surrounded her, striking at her with a thousand hungry jaws and grasping legs, and she had only a one-handed whip of a solar flare to fend it off—

But she didn’t fight alone. A warrior tore at the Darkness’s spidery limbs with his fists, image on the cameras flickering impossibly between every hero I’d ever heard of. A snarling figure bit at it with jagged teeth, gored it with horns, shredded it with claws and talons, and generally made every ancient prey-instinct in me scream. And a queen with a crown of stars, a shield like the night sky and a sword like a streaking comet, stood dauntlessly at the sun-holder’s side. 

With all that, and with the speed of even her most exhausted strikes, I thought the sun-holder could probably have gotten away if she’d tried. But I knew how a person fought when they weren’t willing to leave a friend, and a smaller, silver figure lay at her feet, unmoving and drained of light.

But even the battle for the sun wasn’t what grabbed my eye. No—all my attention, all my guiding threads of fate and the quick temper that always used to get me in trouble, before (and sometimes after) I learned to leash it in an Alliance uniform— All of that took me straight to the fight happening orthogonal to the stone giant’s corpse.

It was another one-versus-many. Morgoth, the First Enemy of Elves and Men— Master of Lies, Maker of Chains, Sonofabitch Curser of Bloodlines—towered over even his fellow gods. His shape changed constantly, sickeningly, but it was always black-armored with eyes like dying stars that hated you personally. His maul dripped with lava and every other kind of blood.

He fought against three great gray figures who moved as one. The tallest wielded a star-studded scythe with swift, efficient strokes, and wore the dark gray of corpse-shrouds. The shortest shimmered with more colors than even a Stamotapadon could dream of, and his weapon shifted likewise. The third was the clear, clean gray of skies after rain or tears run dry, and fought with only a shield—and hit harder with it than either of her brothers.

Around their heads darted the only Elves on the battlefield, in small fliers more like sea-ships than aircraft. But they moved fluidly, pestering the Dark Lord like flies, pricking his skin and threatening his burning eyes.

Until Morgoth swung his maul with a roar of fury that traveled even though soundless space. My ship and heart both shuddered. The gray gods all staggered back, and the Elves fell from the no-longer-sky—all but their leader, more fire than flesh, who wore the third Silmaril. Morgoth caught him in one massive black hand and with sharp claws plucked the jewel away, as easily as a ripe berry from a tree—

“All power to fore-cannon and fire,” I ordered—and the jewel on my brow shone bright again as several stored months’ worth of infinite Silmaril-Light slammed into Morgoth’s chest with all the force that the best scientists in the Astral Alliance could engineer. 

He stumbled. He dropped both the jewel and the elf-king (who’d been trying to bite him). The Lady of Mercy tossed her shield to catch them, staying low and out of sight—though she needn’t have bothered. The so-called “Lord of All” had already found his next enemy.

“All ships, move forward and join shields,” I ordered, and met his burning stare though the viewscreen. “Then broadcast me on all external frequencies.”

The wires on my forehead shimmered as we shifted Light-flow to the shields—and to my right, so did the Elendil, and to my left, the Cosmian Blade, and all around us the Minas Tirith, the Elfsheen, the Muse, the Rivendell, the Heart of Zanzi, the Longbottom Leaf… They were still soaring out of the silvery distortion behind me, tractor- and Silmaril-towed: sleek Rigilic eels-of-prey and Centaurian cruisers full of Humans eager to fight for their homeworld, Betan mine-ships and Canid X-M-wings and my own Hectoan starlighters, a full third of the X-ee navy with their X-eee–shaped six-engine dreadnoughts, and hundreds more. 

“This is Captain Pel Cinia, once Túrin Turambar, of the Astral Alliance ship Gurthang,” I said. My words were broadcast from every ship on every frequency in every language that the people of Arda might know, as the Fleet assembled from forty-plus different worlds flew into position. Our Light-infused shields blazed and locked together, until we formed a seamless wall right in the Enemy’s face, with the Elves and their other allies safely behind us.

I’ve never felt more proud to recite the most cliché line in the Fleet:

“We got your distress call. We’re here to help.”

[potatoplace]

Whispers

Feysand x Reader

Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist

Story Summary: You meet Feyre and Rhys on your one Friday night off in a blue moon, dancing your heart out at Rita's. The three of you have a whirlwind romance, them going from your High Lord and Lady to the two people you spend the most time with. What happens when a snake whispers in your ear?

Warnings: manipulation, some mild angst (I don't think I made it painful enough...) and allusions to smut... shitty friend

Words: ~4.9k

Author's Note: this is a request from @loving-and-dreaming!! I changed it up a tiny bit, mainly in the way the friend was shitty to reader, so I hope you still like it! ALSO the friend is named Taylor because my ex bestie was named Taylor and uhhh 'convinced' my bf (her ex (she said it was okay!!!!)) into breaking up with me and 'dating' him... so... same vibes tbh. THE SNAKE BIT. IM SORRY MISS SWIFT. IT JUST WORKED. YOU ARE NOT THE INSPO FOR SHITTY FRIEND. So now that that's out of the way... Enjoy!!

18+ only pls

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

Your relationship with your High Lord and Lady was… fast paced, to say the least.

You had met one night, dancing your worries away at Rita’s, instead of pouring the drinks, a rarity for you on a Friday night.

You’d had your arms above your head while you swayed to the beat, eyes closed and listening to the music when a pair of slender hands rested themselves on your waist, a warm body pulling up behind you.

Opening your eyes, you were face to face with the most handsome High Lord, possibly the most handsome male you had ever laid eyes on. His violet eyes sparkled with mischief, especially once the hands resting on your waist began to trail upwards, his eyes tracking their path as they made their way to rest just underneath your breasts, teasing the exposed skin there.

If you had to venture a guess, you believed it was your High Lady behind you, her fingers playing along the edge of your tiny, tiny shirt.

“Having a good night, sweetheart?” A sultry voice asked in your ear, lips close enough you could feel her warm breath. A delightful shiver raced down your spine, and if your High Lord’s eyes were any indicator, they had both noticed.

You turned in the female’s arms, putting your High Lord to your back, an opportunity that he didn’t waste as he closed in the space, his own hands resting on your hips now.

It was your High Lady, as beautiful and breathtaking as ever. Her blue eyes sparkled in delight when your arms came to loop around her neck.

“I am now,” you said coyly, grinning up at her.

“Hmm…” Your High Lord hummed against your neck, lips already ghosting over your pulse point, greedily scenting you. “I could say the same, couldn’t you, Feyre?”

“Definitely, Rhys,” Feyre sighed happily, and leaned forward slowly, eyes locked on your lips.

You closed the distance, the alcohol in your system making you bold- after all, this was your mated High Lord and Lady, never in a million years did you think they would be interested in you. It was rare enough to be mated, even rarer for said couple to be open to added partners outside of the bond.

Her lips were so, so soft, and the way her hands tightened on your sides had you deepening the kiss, tongues beginning to dance with each other.

Rhys’s hands slowly moved, coming to rest over the swell of your ass and squeezing gently before returning to your hips. His mouth, though…

His mouth had already sucked a couple of dark marks along the expanse of your neck, claiming you as theirs for the night.

Feyre broke away from you, breathing heavily as she took in your flushed face with lust drunk eyes.

“Want to make this night even better?” Feyre offered in a breathy voice, and that alone was enough to convince you.

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes already stuck on her lips again.

That was all your High Lord needed to winnow the three of you away, straight into an attractively furnished bedroom.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

The next morning, you awoke, tucked between two warm bodies, their arms wrapped over you and your legs intertwined.

You attempted to free yourself quickly and quietly, but their arms around you were like a vice, and you couldn’t seem to get your legs free.

“Mm, good morning,” Rhys said into your ear, his voice thick with sleep. He was at your back, and obviously aroused, if his hardness pressing into your back was anything to go by.

Your cheeks flamed, you had hoped to be gone before you were kicked out, but it was too late now.

“Good morning,” you whispered, attempting to not wake the High Lady, still sleeping peacefully in front of you.

Rhys nuzzled into your neck, placing a soft kiss just under your ear. “Were you trying to leave?”

Your cheeks reddened even further- now you had been caught attempting to leave before they woke.

“Yes…”

“Feyre,” he said, more loudly than before. “Feyre, our little lynx was trying to leave before we woke up.”

Feyre’s eyes flew open, and her lips automatically fell into a pout. “Why would you do that, little lynx?” She asked, a hand coming up to caress your face. “Did you not have a good night?”

The sadness in her eyes had you instantly replying, “No, no, I just… thought you might want me to leave before the morning.”

“And why would we want that, sweetheart?” Rhys asked, running one of his hands along your side soothingly. “I know that I had a wonderful night with you.”

“And I did too,” Feyre hummed in agreement, her thumb smoothing across your cheek bone. Your eyes fluttered shut, their soft touch so, so nice.

“I did too,” you admitted quietly.

“So what’s the problem, little lynx?” Feyre asked, tapping on your cheek to get your eyes to open.

You bit your lip as you took in what they’d said. “There isn’t one, I suppose…”

Feyre smiled brightly, leaning in for a gentle kiss. “Have breakfast with us then?” She asked hopefully, that same sparkle from last night in her eyes.

You couldn’t help but smile back, answering, “Yes, I’d love that.”

“I’ll get to cooking,” Rhys said, but turned your head to him for a soft kiss of his own before throwing the covers off of himself, standing tall with pride as your eyes greedily took in his naked form. He smirked playfully at you before going to their wardrobe and throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, then left their bedroom.

Feyre’s soft hand on your waist got you to turn back around, facing the beautiful female in front of you. “Did you want some different clothes to wear?” She asked, hand tracing a pattern on your skin.

“Yes, that would be nice, Feyre…” you trailed off.

Fuck it, you thought, and snuggled further into Feyre’s embrace. Her arms tightened around you, and you sighed contentedly as your face rested just above her breasts, head tucked beneath her chin.

“Can we stay here for a little bit?” You asked quietly, shy even though the two of you had been so intimate last night.

“Of course, little lynx,” Feyre assured softly, one of her hands running up and down your back slowly.

The two of you had almost fallen asleep again when Rhys came back into the room, chuckling when he saw the two of you wrapped in each other.

“Come on, ladies,” he said amusedly, slowly peeling the blankets off of both of you, making you both whine at the loss of heat. He sighed before replacing the blanket. “Breakfast in bed?”

“Yes, please, Rhysie,” Feyre answered, pressing a sleepy kiss to your head.

“Thank you,” you said, your words muffled by Feyre’s skin.

Rhys returned a few minutes later with two breakfast trays, and you and Feyre finally had to sit up against the headboard. He placed a tray over both of you, and grabbed two extremely soft shirts, handing one to each of you before leaving to grab his own food.

You blushed and thanked him, sliding the shirt over your head and taking in the breakfast he had made.

Chocolate chip pancakes, little sausages, and orange slices, as well as a mug of tea.

“Thank you for breakfast,” you said once he returned to the room, quickly sliding under the covers and placing his own tray over his legs. Feyre hummed in agreement, a bite of pancake already in her mouth.

“Of course, little lynx. We don’t want you to leave hungry, after all,” he replied, smiling at you.

“In fact…” Feyre began. “We don’t want you to leave at all."

Your breath caught in your throat, taken aback by such a quick suggestion.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Feyre laughed, a gentle hand on your back. “I meant, we would like to continue… this. Date, even,” Feyre suggested.

“Oh,” you said nervously, a hand rubbing the back of your neck. “I, uhm… I think I’d like that.”

“Good, we’d like it too,” Rhys said sincerely. “Now, eat up little lynx.”

You did as he said, comforted by the fact that the two of them liked you enough to want to date you. The High Lord and Lady. Date you.

“Now now, none of that sweetheart,” Feyre said in a slightly disapproving tone.

“What?” You asked, eyes wide as you looked at her.

“Shit. I’m so sorry, love, I accidentally used my daemati powers,” Feyre apologized, her head in her hands. Your cheeks flamed, she had heard that?

“We’ll get your mental shields strong enough that we can’t even break in, don’t worry sweetheart,” Rhys reassured you. “And we will be very, very careful to stay out of your mind, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed. Having your mental shields trained would be good, anyways. “And it’s okay, Feyre, you didn’t mean to.” You comforted her with a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, little lynx. I will be so careful, I promise.”

You smiled brightly at her, then turned back to your food.

“These pancakes are really tasty Rhys.”

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

That night, you had a shift at Rita’s, thankfully with your best friend, Taylor. You needed to tell her about last night.

So you did.

And she happily listened, up until the part where they’d asked you to date them.

“Really?” She asked incredulously. “Are you sure they wanted to date you?”

“Yes, they made it very clear, Tay. Is it… really that crazy to believe?”

Taylor shook her head and giggled. “No, no, it’s just that I thought they might have meant it in a ‘let’s be fuck friends’ kind of way. But it’s good to know that it’s romance they want!”

You nodded your head in agreement, but a small seed of doubt had already planted itself in your gut. “Yeah, it is.”

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

For your first date, Rhys and Feyre took you out to Sevenda’s- they even rented the whole restaurant for the night, so you would be as comfortable as possible. It was absolutely perfect, the food was delicious and you found that you really did get along with the pair. You were able to banter with them, and make little jokes here and there, like you had known them for a long time, not a week. You loved art like Feyre did, seeing beauty in every corner of the world- you worked with pottery, she worked with paints. Rhys had the same love of the stars and planets as you did, both of you were able to lose yourselves in a conversation about the various constellations and planets that had been discovered so far.

And, of course, the three of you got along very well physically.

Something about the sex you had with them was just… magical. Right. Like all of the other times you’d had sex before were the warm up for being with the both of them, absolutely losing yourself in the giving and receiving of pleasure.

The next shift that you had with Taylor, you gushed about the date, how perfectly it had gone, and how you had a group date and two individual dates set up with the two of them in the next week.

“I feel so lucky, Tay. Like all of the hardships in my life happened to lead me to this moment, this relationship,” you rambled, before realizing you had been talking about them for almost the entirety of your break.

“I’m happy for you, Y/N,” Taylor said, smiling brightly at you.

You returned the expression. “Thank you, Tay. Well, we should probably get back to work.”

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

Two months later, you were convinced you were in love.

Your High Lord and Lady had become Rhys and Feyre, who had become your Bat and Star.

You had never truly gotten over how beautifully Feyre shined when she climaxed, and you never expected to.

Rhys had told you he felt the same when you floated the thought his way one night, both of you looking down at Feyre shining, just for the two of you, with so much love in your eyes.

“I just love them so much, Taylor. I can’t… I don’t think I can keep myself from saying it much longer,” you confessed, wringing your hands together as the two of you stood in the alleyway behind Rita’s.

“But, maybe you aren’t saying it for a reason…?” Taylor suggested. “I mean, they are mated… How could you compare?” She asked innocently, horror crossing her face when she met your eyes. “Oh, Y/N, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

Tears pricked at your eyes anyways, knowing that she was right. “I know, I know how you meant it. It just… hurts to be reminded of that sometimes.”

Taylor sighed as she looked at you, a little bit of pity in her eyes. “I’ll cover the bar for ten more minutes, take a little time, okay Y/N?” She suggested gently, patting your arm.

You nodded. “Thank you, Tay. I’ll see you in a few.”

She knocked on the back door, the security guard opening it for her and letting her back inside.

Once the door had shut, you placed your head in your hands. Taylor was right, they are mated.

That didn’t mean they couldn’t love you, though.

With that thought in mind, you wiped the corners of your eyes, clearing any lingering tears, then closed your eyes and took a few deep, steadying breaths before knocking on the door yourself, returning to your spot behind the bar.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

“Move in with us.”

“I- what?”

“Move in with us.” Feyre said it, this time.

“Three months is a little… fast to move in…?”

Rhys chuckled lightly. “I told you she’d say that, Fey.”

Feyre shook her head. “You can move in here and keep your apartment until you’re sure you want to stay with us, if that’s what you’re worried about little lynx.”

“Hm… okay. Yes, I’ll move in with you,” you confirmed, and Rhys picked you up and spun you around, and once he’d set you down, Feyre wrapped her arms tightly around you and began peppering kisses all over your face, only stopping once you were giggling and lightly pushing her away from you.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

It had been a month since you had moved in, and you had no doubts in your mind that this was where you wanted to be.

The night you moved in, you cooked a meal for the two of them, and confessed your love to the both of them.

They had not returned the words, but their actions and promise that they were well on the way comforted you just the same.

Taylor, however, seemed to think differently.

“That’s what people say when they know they don’t love you, Y/N. Don’t you think they feel obligated to say that to you? I mean, they did offer for you to move in… it would be pretty cruel of them to ask you to move out so quickly.”

Your heart sank into your stomach, doubt and shame and embarrassment washing over you in crashing waves. If Taylor didn’t think it was working…

“But… we spend so much time together,” you started.

“Because you’re always around them,” Taylor countered, giving you a pointed look. “Try spending less time together, and if they seek you out, then they actually like you. If they don’t… I’m sorry, but I would start moving my things back into my apartment, if I were you,” Taylor said sadly, patting you on the back as tears streaked down your face.

She went back into Rita’s, leaving you crying in the alleyway behind the bar.

She’s right. I should pull away some, and see if they follow.

So you did. Over the next week, you spent more time in the pottery studio than you had in the past month, throwing yourself into making a beautiful vase, detailed with the constellations you saw every night, gazing at the stars with your lovers.

Just thinking of them when they weren’t in the room made tears well in your eyes.

You had stopped spending so much time during the day in Rhys’s study as he worked, after all, he had only asked you to join him on a few occasions- you were the one who had made it a near daily ritual.

Your evenings before work were, of course, spent at the pottery studio instead of Feyre’s studio, giving her some much needed air, clean of your presence.

You heart broke every night, returning to their townhome- because, after all, it was their townhome, not all of yours.

If they had noticed you retreating, they hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t noticed a single time you had pulled away from them, spent less time with them.

Every night that you warmed their bed, you felt a piece of yourself die inside.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

“If you’re that miserable with them, Y/N, maybe you should break up with them,” Taylor suggested, her annoyance evident. “I’m getting tired of listening to you whine about how little they notice you.”

“Hey,” you said, tears welling in your eyes- a near constant for you, after the past two weeks.

Taylor sighed. “I’m sorry, that was rude. But honestly, Y/N. It hurts for me to see you like this almost every night.”

“I know, I’m sorry Tay. You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” you sniffled, wiping at your teary eyes.

“Just… get ready to work again, break is almost up, okay?”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see, already having knocked on the door and facing away from you. You let yourself sniffle for a couple more minutes before heading back inside.

Feyre and Rhys had entered the bar while you were away, already having stuck up a conversation with Taylor.

She’s cuter than you, maybe they’re bored of you and moving on to someone better, your brain hissed at you, and you felt like you were going to be sick.

You rushed over to your manager before the two of them could spot you, and begged “Can I please go home early? I feel like I’m going to hurl all over the place.”

Your manager looked you up and down, and took in your teary eyes and a hand covering your stomach. “Get home safe, girl,” she said, opening the back door for you.

“Thank you, I will.”

You rushed back home- your home, not the one you had been sharing with Rhys and Feyre. When you reached your door, your threw it open and slammed it behind you, sliding down against it and collapsing into yourself, sobbing pathetically.

You couldn’t do this anymore.

Taylor was right, you needed to break things off- but you didn’t think you could bear to do it, not with them in front of you.

After some time had passed- an hour, maybe two- you managed to drag yourself into your bedroom.

You hadn’t realized how barren it looked in here, without all of your clothes and favorite blankets.

It was empty, just as your hopes for a future with your perfect Bat and Star felt.

You cried yourself to sleep, hugging your knees tightly to your chest as you felt your world break apart.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

The next morning, you were more exhausted than when you went to bed.

You had slept like utter shit that night, tossing and turning and crying.

You had shed so many tears, the Sidra probably had a new tributary by now.

Nothing made you feel better, not the bath that you forced yourself into, or the tea you made for yourself.

You were sitting on your couch in the living room, wrapped in a green blanket- your least favorite one, but the purple and blue ones that you liked so much more reminded you so strongly of your lovers’ eyes that you couldn’t stand to look at them.

Tears were still streaming down your cheeks when a knock came at your door- patient but firm.

You stayed where you were, unable to move, let alone walk to the door.

Another knock, this time a bit more impatient.

Still, you didn’t move.

Another, almost… frantic?

Another, hard, nearly shaking the door in its frame.

You still couldn’t move.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Came Feyre’s soft voice, tinged with worry.

You said nothing, hardly even breathed as tears continued to carve a permanent path through your skin.

“Y/N, I can hear your heartbeat, just let us in, please?” Rhys asked, his voice more demanding than Feyre’s but filled with panic.

You couldn’t move, not one muscle.

One more clearly frantic knock, before someone- Rhys- tapped on your mental shields.

He had spoken the truth, that you would be able to keep them out. You kept them out now, terrified to know what they were going to say.

“Please, little lynx, just let me in, we're worried about you,” Rhys begged into your mind.

And that broke you. Your walls collapsed, and Rhys entered carefully, his presence wrapping around your mind as he did.

“Oh, little lynx,” Rhys cooed, his arms wrapping around you as Feyre came to sit behind you pulling you into her arms. “None of those thoughts are true, my love.”

They had winnowed in.

They were worried about you enough- cared enough- to winnow into your home to check on you.

You sobbed, collapsing back into Feyre as your arms wiggled out of the blanket and pulled Rhys towards you, burying your face in his chest.

You cried for- you weren’t even sure, it had been so long.

But Feyre and Rhys stayed, physically and mentally wrapped around you the entire time, whispering sweet nothings and reassurances in your ear, in your mind.

Eventually, you quieted down, and your tears dried. It was only then that you let yourself pull away from Rhys’s solid, comforting chest and look them both in the eyes, mortified at your behavior.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologized, wiping at your eyes.

“What are you sorry for, little lynx?” Feyre asked, pushing your hair back from your face gently.

“For- for being such a big baby,” you said, more tears, somehow, welling in your eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart. You have nothing to apologize for. That snake however…” Rhys hissed, and it was then that you remembered they had been in your mind, seeing every horrid interaction and thought you’d had in the past two weeks.

“Taylor was just trying to help me,” you explained, sure that your friend had done no wrong.

“No she wasn’t, little lynx,” Feyre sighed. “When you told us you loved us, how did you feel afterwards, when we told you we just needed a little more time?”

You thought back to it- “Happy. I was so, so happy.”

“And after you talked with… Taylor?” Rhys asked.

Your face scrunched. “Like… like you guys had lied to me…” you confessed, so ashamed that you had ever felt that way about them.

“And were there other times that she tried to dull your happiness?”

You sniffled as you nodded.

She… Taylor, your own friend… had betrayed you.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” Rhys said, kissing your forehead gently. “I wish it wasn’t true.”

“I… I need to talk to her. Will you come with me?” You asked shyly, peering up at the both of them through your lashes.

“Of course we will, little lynx,” Feyre agreed, already helping unravel the rest of your body from the blanket.

Once you were free, you stood up, surprised at how much their kind, reassuring words had helped lighten your fears.

“Before we go…” Rhys started.

“We… well, we had been trying to plan a special night to tell you, but…”

“I love you,” the two of them said in unison.

And just like that, your heart was soaring.

Tears streamed down your face, but these ones were happy, and you pushed yourself into their embrace, one arm around each of them. “I love you too,” you mumbled in a watery voice, making both of them laugh softly.

“We know, little lynx. And we will spend so, so long proving it to you, whenever you need us to,” Feyre promised, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“In or out of the bedroom,” Rhys added with a smile, pressing his own lips to yours. “Now, let’s go teach that little snake a lesson.”

“Rhysand,” Feyre warned, smacking him on the arm. “You will let Y/N say what she wants, and then if she feels it’s appropriate, you can scare the shit out of her.”

Rhys made a pouty face, and you couldn’t help but giggle. “If you don’t get to scare her, I’ll make you whatever food you want for dinner tomorrow night.”

His frown turned to a bright smile. “Sounds good, little lynx. You know it’ll be soup you make, right?”

You merely shook you merely shook your head at him. Of course you knew, it was his absolute favorite dish you made. And you wouldn’t tell him now, but you’d be making it either way.

You loved the soup too, after all.

The three of you made your way to Taylor’s apartment quickly, your blood filled with rage at the way she had manipulated you. And for what?

You made Rhys and Feyre stand at the end of the alley while you knocked on her door, wanting to have this conversation as privately as you could.

The door swung open, revealing a well rested Taylor.

“Wow, you look like hell,” Taylor greeted, opening the door wider and letting you inside.

“Thanks…” You said, disappointed in your friend already.

“Did you break up with them?” Taylor asked once she had shut the door.

“No.”

“Why not?” Taylor asked angrily. “They hardly pay you any attention at all, why would you stick around to be with them for hardly anything?”

“Why do you care so much that I break up with them, Taylor?” You asked venomously, done with her insulting your lovers.

“Because, they’re hurting you!”

“No, they aren’t Taylor. You know who has made this relationship so rocky? You,” you spat at her.

“Because you don’t deserve them!” Taylor shouted at you. “I deserve them, not some stupid little twit like you!”

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head. “I cannot believe you,” you scoffed. “You did all this because you were jealous of me?! Do you have any idea of how fucked up that is?!”

“It’s not fucked up if the person you’re doing it to is a skank,” Taylor spat.

And you slapped her.

Hard.

Hard enough to whip her head to the side, redness blooming on her skin.

“Don’t speak to me, ever.”

And with that, you turned on your heel and left her apartment, slamming the door behind you.

“I’m scaring her,” Rhys declared when you reached them. “No one can talk to you that way.”

“I know, Rhys. That’s why I slapped her. But feel free to scare her anyways, bitch deserves it. Just scare,” you said, pushing your body into Feyre’s arms and relaxing in her firm hold.

“Understood, love.”

A scream came from the direction of Taylor’s apartment.

“Every time she looks in the mirror, she sees a shadowy figure behind her,” Rhys explained, laughing to himself. “If she looks too close it starts to get disturbing features, too.”

Feyre shook her head, clearly disapproving, but also amused.

“Just make it stop in a month or two, okay my bat?” You asked him, a hand on his arm.

He turned to look at you, a grin spreading over his lips. “Of course, little lynx. Whatever you want.”

“… Whatever I want?” You asked, grinning up at him.

“Anything at all,” Feyre whispered lowly in your ear.

“Can we… go home?”

In an instant, the three of you were back in your bedroom. The only one you needed, from now on.

“Bath?” You asked next, and the two of them began stripping you of your clothes in an instant, making you giggle at them. “All of us?”

“Of course, sweetheart, we just wanted to get you ready first,” Feyre said, pressing soft kisses to your neck.

“We have so much to make up for, including us letting you pull away, darling. You may just be stuck in this room with us until dinner tomorrow night,” Rhys teased as he rid himself of his pesky clothing, turning to Feyre next, who reluctantly gave up her spot sucking on your neck to let him undress her.

“Good, I’ll accept nothing less,” you said, giggling when Rhys hoisted you into his arms and speed walked into the bathroom, where the tub was already filled with steaming water. He gently set you in, before climbing in himself, followed by Feyre.

“Let’s start with getting you squeaky clean, and free of all those sad, sad thoughts, only filled with how much we love you,” Feyre crooned into your ear as she slowly lowered you so you were mostly covered by the water, in between the two of them.

“That sounds perfect, my sweet star,” you sighed, relaxing into their caring hold, feeling safe for the first time in two weeks.

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