#Andrew wishes he could draw

[timaeusterrored]

Another Camilla Dunne scene that reminds me of Vincent

I just

UGH

Him looking at Johnny and Kerry like this

[deklo]

my interpretation of adoptive bee :’)

pls don’t repost!

[attineilde]

how does neil pass school? throughout all three books I dont think he has ever mentioned studying ONCE

[talaok]

Okay . What about pedro × reader

Hear me out ...

They are dating for a few months but keeping it a secret the reader is also an actress and in her new movie her Co star is into her and with the interviews everyone is talking about in in social media . So pedro gets jealous and show up at her work ... maybe they fight or idk . I'm not sure about the ending

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!reader

Summary: Pedro’s jealous of one of your co-stars

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst because I didn’t feel like doing a lot, and allusion to smut

A/n: why do yall like jealous Pedro so much!?

Pedro was not a jealous man, he knew you were his, just like he was yours.

He didn't mind the stares you'd attract from other men, he didn't mind the shameless flirting everyone always directed your way, and he didn't even mind having to see you kiss other men on screen... but there's a limit to everything.

He'd stumbled by accident in the comment section of your most recent post, a picture with the cast of the new movie you were shooting, and god if he wished he hadn't.

He meant to write a cute comment, because even though nobody knew about you two, nobody ever seemed to notice the borderline flirty words he'd leave under your pictures, and now he understood why.

He wasn't completely oblivious to the online conspiracies about you and Andrew, you had told him about it, about all the edits and fans and ships or whatever, however, there was a small detail you had forgotten to inform him about: the guy obviously liked you.

And who could blame him right? 

Pedro. He could fucking blame him.

It didn't take long before he was furiously stalking his own girlfriend's Instagram.

you look stunning darling

Darling? When the fuck did he start calling you that?

I think I just had a heart attack

Oh, fuck off

And that wasn't even the worst part. Fuck no. The worst part was the fucking videos. the interviews. The way his eyes never left your fucking body. The way he touched your hand and lingered just enough for him to notice. the way he didn't even try to hide his pathetic attempts at flirting even when he knew he was being fucking filmed.

By the time Pedro shut his phone, he was ready to go have a “talk” with this guy

But first, he needed to see you. Now.

__ __ __

"God please if it's Gary tell him that I don't need to practice that scene again, I got it." you rolled your eyes as you instructed your assistant to open the trailer's door after hearing a knock.

"sure thing, but I don't think he can be so easily persuad-" her voice trailed off as she took in the man in front of her.

"Hi" she smiled at Pedro "It's-it's not Gary" she shot you a look.

"what, who is it?" you asked, momentarily forgetting the lipstick in your hand as you got up.

"Pedro?"

"hi sweetheart"

"what are you doing here?" you couldn't hide your confusion.

"Just wanted to see you," he said, entering the trailer.

"Oh," you smiled, before glancing at your assistant "I'm sorry Ana, could you give us a moment?"

"no problem, but remember you need to be on set in '15"

"yes ma'am" You joked, giving her a pretend salute.

She chuckled as she closed the door behind her.

"they have you on a tight schedule huh?" Pedro murmured, wasting no time before wrapping his arms around your back, forcing you flush against him.

"they do" you nodded, standing on your toes "So you're not gonna get what you came all this way for" you taunted, leaving a quick kiss on his lips.

He grunted, unsatisfied, and pulled you back for another kiss. This one much hungrier.

"Is that what you think I only think about?"

"well you don't make much of a case for yourself" you laughed softly.

"that's your fault" he breathed "If you weren't the most stunning woman on earth maybe I wouldn't be so all over you"

"maybe" you shrugged, lazily drawing patterns on his chest "Maybe not"

"I need to talk to you," he said, suddenly more serious.

A cloud of dread dropped onto you.

"oh," you murmured, taking a step back "about what?"

He looked around the place before finding your eyes again.

"I want to tell everyone"

You frowned 

"I want to tell people we're together"

You were taken aback.

He was always the one opposed to it. He didn't want you to get caught in all the drama and gossip inevitably heading your way, no matter how many times you told him you didn't care.

"What?" you smiled "Why- I mean why now?"

"I want everyone to know you're mine. And I'm yours" he said " including Andrew"

You shot him a look "Andrew?"

"You didn't tell me he's obsessed with you"

"what? He's not"

"he is baby,"

"how would you even know?"

"I saw it"

"When? You've never met him"

"I saw the comments, and the interviews, and the videos"

"And you think just because in an interview he did what? made me laugh, he likes me?" you scoffed "That's ridiculous Pedro"

"I don't want to tell everyone we're together just because you're jealous of a guy I work with," 

"that's not why I want to tell sweetheart" he reassured you, taking a step towards you " I want everyone to know just how much I love you, that's why. And if that means that guys like Andrew will back off... even better"

"He's not into me" you insisted

A sly smile pulled at his lips "God baby, you really have no idea what you do to men, do you?"

"He's not into me."

"Sure" he mocked "and tell me, when was the last time he didn't do something you asked him?" He asked, moving some hair out of your face.

An almost comical silence spread through the room.

"That's what I thought" he nodded, using his fingers to raise your chin.

"Maybe he's just polite"

He leaned closer, his mouth ghosting yours "Or maybe he's just in love with my girl" he breathed a moment before kissing you deeply, one hand to the back of your neck and one to your ass.

"so what do you say?" he asked once you parted "You ready to tell the world?"

"Only if you are"

"oh you have no idea" he murmured, suddenly picking you up and pinning you against a wall.

A small gasp fled your lips, but he silenced it with a kiss.

"Pedro..." you warned him, tightening your legs' grip on his waist.

"they can wait" he read your mind "You're the start after all"

You couldn't help but laugh at that.

"you're a bad influence" you breathed, causing a smirk to land on his lips as he kissed your neck.

"sweetheart?" he suddenly asked

"Yeah?" you murmured, already out of breath.

"Whose trailer is next to this one?"

You paused a moment, pondering your options.

"Andrew's" you finally spoke, going for the truth “Why?”

By the look of it, that’s exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Baby,I think you know why”

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

can you make a little fanfic about andrew being a fucking yandere? or hc's? i beg youu

Well since you begged <3

TW: Kidnapping, Starvation, Forced kiss, also- Yandere shit so be weary y’all

Yandere!Andrew Graves x Reader

Truly, you don’t know how things got like this

Your stomach churned with hunger, so much you feared it would start eating itself if you didn’t eat anything soon

Though you didn’t trust what he would bring you

The cold chains digging into the skin of your wrists was a good reminder of what trusting him brought you

If you had the energy, you would chew through the piece of cloth he gagged you with. Spit it out and scream for help

But- that wouldn’t end well for you

He made that clear last time…

“Relax beloved…” his voice was so calm as he circled you, the only indication of his anger being how white his knuckles were from clenching his cleaver, “I’m not gonna kill you..”

You wished he would. You wished he would slit your throat with that fucking thing and finally release you from this torture you’d endure for a week now. But no…you were his beloved. He would never harm his beloved, not unless they deserved it.

Harm, but never kill. Fucking psychopath.

Your attempt had been utterly futile, having managed to wiggle the Christmas lights tying you to the pole- leaving you to slink away like a slug in an attempt to get away. Andrew had come down to investigate the noise, where he found your pathetic slug ass on the floor, crying with fear.

He knelt down beside you, taking your chin in his hand.

“Awww…sweetie…” his voice was sickeningly sweet, like he was trying to provide you with comfort. If you weren’t gagged, you would’ve bit him. He helped you sit up, you flinched under his touch, “Why do you resist me? I’m helping you..”

He wiped your tears with his sweater sleeve, though your eyes were fixated on his cleaver- prepared to duck if he used it. Andrew wouldn’t use it if you didn’t give him a reason to, he’s exclaimed multiple times your first few days here.

He cupped your cheek in his right hand, you tilted your head into it instinctively. He had done this so many times before…

Before he showed you what he was like..

Andrew leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His lips felt cold, sharp- taking away any tenderness he could provide to you.

“I’ll let you off either a warning this time…but if you try this again…” he roughly grabbed his chin, pulling your face close to his. He glared at you, his green eyes filling you with nothing but fear as his true intentions were clear behind them, “I won’t be so nice..”

You nodded the best you could with how he was holding you. He was satisfied with that, his expression changing on a dime to that of adoration.

“That’s it.” Andrew kissed your forehead again, releasing your chin, “Come on…let’s get you back to your spot, I’ve picked up something that’s a bit….heftier to prevent something like this from happening again.”

You lost track of how long you’d been here now

Realistically, it was probably a couple of weeks

But it felt more like years

You perked up, hearing footsteps at the top of the stairs- and then the faint sound of a lock clicking

Fear coursed through you. The pole you were tied to was just far back enough that the railing blocked the top of the staircase- but you knew the footsteps anywhere

In your time living in the basement of the Graves house, you’d memorize the two sets of footsteps that visited you: Andrew, and his little sister, Ashley.

More often than not, Andrew would visit you- Ashley only did once a day to feed you- so it was a safe bet to assume it was him before you memorized Ashley’s somehow heavier steps.

Andrew’s were light, like he’d have practice not drawing attention to himself while walking

He maneuvered down the stairs slowly, his frame slowly coming into your view. He carried two plates in his hands, each with a fork set upon the conglomerate of spaghetti noodles piled on top of it.

His eyes met yours, and he gave you a smile. A warm smile.

You hated that smile

“Evening beloved.” He greeted you, striding over to your bounded self. He set a plate down in front of you, “Dinner time! Tonight’s meal is pasta, I thought I’d eat with you.”

He seated himself across from you, leaning forward- his hands going behind your head. Fear flashed through your eyes, but his poisoned touch left as he removed your gag.

You could scream. You wanted to scream. So, so badly. But he was right there. Scrawny as he was, he had the energy and upper hand against you to silence you…permanently.

So you clamped your mouth shut, which made Andrew frowned.

“Aww, come on sweetie..” he twirled some of your pasta on to the fork, “You need to eat.”

His face went dark as his sickly green eyes stared holes through your wide, teary eyes.

“I know you haven’t been eating what Ashley brings you.”

Your muscles tensed, and you did the foolish thing of opening your mouth a little with surprise for him noticing. He took that moment to thrust the fork into your mouth. You gagged on it, the prongs poking the back of your throat. You didn’t want to eat this, but Andrew retracted the fork and took your jaw in his hand. He manually made you chew, the noodles felt heavy in your mouth. Before you knew it, the cursed nutrients flowed down your throat and into your empty stomach. Andrew gave you a satisfied smile.

“There we go..” he released your jaw, picking up the fork again, “Come on, I want this plate cleaned.”

Each time he forced the food into your mouth, you wanted to vomit. You didn’t trust any of this. You have no idea what he laced this with, but the paranoia was already making your stomach ache. The plate was soon cleaned, and the feeding stopped.

Thank god, you would’ve said if you were coughing on pasta. You inhaled sharply, suddenly you were silence again- although not by the usual cloth you’d grown used to.

Andrew’s lips crashed into yours, his hands cupping your face to stop your squirming to try and get away. You screamed into his mouth, demanding to be released. Your teeth met his, saliva shared between you as he opened his own- then..

“OW!”

Andrew hissed, moving away and bringing a hand to his mouth. You had bitten his tongue…hard.

What were you thinking?

Cold terror filled your body as you struggled against the chains- and suddenly your mouth felt the familiar taste of the cloth gag. Andrew tied it tight around you, his eyes flashing with fury.

“Well…someone’s in a mood..” he grumbled, standing up and taking his plate with him. He glared down at you, “Look at all I’ve done for you? I’m protecting you!”

He clenched his plate- you could tell he wanted to throw it at you.

“You know how many people out there want to hurt you? Want to mistreat you?” His words felt like daggers, “You may not understand it…but I love you. And I’m doing this because I love you..”

Andrew turned on his heel, heading over to the stairs. He placed his free hand on the railing, glaring back at you.

“Happy 1 month beloved…” was all he left you with as he stormed up the stairs- the singular lightbulb in the basement being turned off, covering you in darkness.

You didn’t sleep that night

You sobbed into your gag until it felt gross in your mouth

A month ago, you had met a sweet boy in the library

He was browsing the poetry section, rambling to you about the underrated works of Edgar Allen Poe

He was so sweet

He was so caring

….maybe in a twisted way he still was.

[calware]

thoughts and feelings about equius ?

he is very interesting to me.... like i can SEE HIS POTENTIAL. if he had the chance at growing up he could really change and grow to be a better and mature person......... but alas he died as a cringe 13 year old 💔 so that opportunity never even came to pass. i do think his character does a really interesting job at showing how a cruel society affects the people living in it (even if it's wildly uncomfortable at times)... i often i see narratives that are like "ok well all legal minors in dystopian settings are all Normal and Good and then at ~some point~ they turn into Evil Adults" but i think the way characters like equius are presented is way more interesting and engaging

i'm going to be real. i think the premise of a 13 year old character exploring and expressing their sexuality in both healthy and unhealthy ways is great and important to write about... when you are normal about it. andrew hussie loves doing this thing where she is simultaneously serious about something while also having it be an elaborate joke, and for the most part it works. i do not think it works when he does it with equius; it just makes me uncomfortable 🫡

equius and vriska are like sisters

wish people knew how to draw him looking 13 years old (i say as i have only drawn him once, and it was so stylized it doesn't even count)

this is a problem many characters have (cough jake cough gamzee cough jane) but i also wish people were able to both see him as the 13 year old whose character flaws are largely a result of growing up on that nightmare planet who had the capacity for kindness and even growth if he got the chance... while also accepting he was a bigot and a creep who treated others horribly. nuance? never heard of her....

i love his relationship with nepeta. they are so funny and nice to each other in their own weird and special way

[tero-ga]

Aaaaanother TGAA SwapAU stuff and it is my wonderful boy Albert as the prosecutor!!

I've changed some of the designs in this one like the jacket color to white to make a resemblance of a lab coat and reflecting of Kazuma white school uniform, as well trying to bring more Frankenstein's Monster vibe too hehe (aaand make him look more miserable too). He is also have a locket that have a painting of him and his two brothers, it was given by Andrew during his wedding!

I also made bunch of character that related to Swap!Albert's life from 10 years ago, like Andrew(Klint's roleswap) and his other brother Michael, university Barok and Albert, etc. more info about the are there down below 👇👇

First of I wanted to say I'm sorry I can't do full render of everyone here, do that with all of them would be death sentence for me so I couldn't do it 😭😭 Anyway without further ado, I'm going right into it! Start from left to right!

This first one Ryunosuke father replacing as Genshin Asogi. At first while brainstorming I was thinking of maybe do three switch around with Genshin, Jigoku, and Yujin but the it somehow felt weird for me. Then the thought of maybe involving Auchi in this too (like, imagine him being swap with Jigoku wouldn't that be funny and terrifying thought), but discarded that idea out because of Menimemo would have no one to swap with (i have to i'm sorry). Sooo I ended just design him from scratch, he is quite easy to figure out since Genshin doesn't really have much going on with him, but since we don't have any idea of original Ryunosuke's parents at all I have to take idea from something else, and that is his daruma doll for his eyes (he is half blind!! :D) and Phoenix DD/SOJ design (droopy hair and light vest) and everything else is from Genshin. His name is Ryuuki Naruhodo since Ryunosuke is another name for Ryuichi so I want to keep the train going!!

Andrew the screwdriver, oh I missed him- Anyway, I redesign his outfit because tbh his previous outfit is ridiculous 😭 it's funny and fun but I do want to take him seriously now. I'm tried to keep the A shape still but it's less subtle now, I think it turned out okay!! (Oh yeah, his cane is supposed to be a hidden sword but i forgot to put that in the drawing 😭). I was supposed to make his bowtie red like the hair tie but then I realized it will getting rid of the purpose of the hair tie (it referencing the blood on the tip of the screwdriver) so I ended up making it color silver.

The Lady Baskerville, I gave her similar design to Sunny(Herlock!Swap) with the bowtie, color palette to his mascot, and hair on her. I'm not really quite fond with her design, maybe I'll do redesign her again if I got a idea pop up like crazy but in the meantime this is her design.

Guess who is this?? Another one of Albert's tool is here finally!! Michael the crosshead screwdriver! Since we never see Michael anywhere and only mentioned once in the game he is, I'm just draw simple design for him (I wished I could put M shape in the design but I have no idea WHERE to put it 😭 so I tried used the bowtie for it). I also thought it would be nice to make him a defense attorney so I made the design for the badge too. Since he is sadly not going to be mentioned a lot in this AU since I'm trying to make the storyline same as the original, so I made a backstory of what happened in the fun fact tags. There was supposed to be more tool to be added but my god that would be taxing to design, so I have to make only Andrew and Michael as his only siblings.

The doggie Balmung replacement, Bolt, He is a Irish Setter! Beforehand he was supposed to be Borzoi but then research the background of the breed I don't how difficult it is to actually get one in that era so I have to changed breed :((

Albert and Barok in university days!! I just keep same as before like previous design!! There's a tiny change like the hair and the neckties.

There is going to be more content of them soon because I have a lot of ideas for them sooo stay tuned ;)

Here's the concept designs!!

[emry-stars-art]

Just read the whole 'how Andreil pans out' ask and all I'm saying is that I love the idea of Andrew Courting Abram and Abram just absolutely misses that it's what is happening. Part of it is just a cultural difference, Evermore and Palmetto have different courting cultures perhaps?

Another part is that Andrew really does not act all THAT different. He's giving Abram gifts but like Andrew is always giving Abram stuff? It's not new? Yeah they had dinner together but that's just like what they......do?

Another another part is just Abram not even considering himself as someone worthy to be with Prince Andrew like that. He wasn't worthy before and after Evermore and everything I could imagine he feels even less like a person let alone a person who deserves Andrew's positive regard.

IDK I just love the idea of Abram at some point like 6 months into Andrew trying to court him seeing that behavior somewhere else, being told that's how nobility in Palmetto court others, and going to Andrew like "Have you, perchance, been trying to court me?"

Andrew setting his glass aside and looking up from where he's seated, "For 6 moons Abram, glad you've finally noticed." - @jtl-fics

jtl I. Wish. You could have seen my face as I read this, this is so hilarious and heartbreaking and lovely all in one and I’m in LOVE okay i love this so much. And we can totally make it work ahhhhh

Like yes! Yeah! Andrew’s already a gift giver, it’s just what he does as far as Abram’s concerned, and they spend so much time together that dinner isn’t strange those are perfect points. Like to the court it’s starting to become obvious - maybe in the kinds of gifts Andrew gives, or some other small things that are new, yes, but Abram has always taken these things in stride and usually his lack of judgement when Andrew tries new things or changes in little ways is a huge relief but not this time Abram PLEASE

Finally Andrew just bites the bullet and goes for a gesture that’s way more out of character and harder to mistake, which might look something like this (and thank you @leedee013 for tags about them giving each other flowers that I LOVED):

And Abram can’t really form his thoughts into words because like you said; he doesn’t think he should be allowed something like that, there’s no way he’s ever EVER going to assume that Andrew is trying to confess or clue him in to a courting like this, even if it’s in his head now

But then Lady Reynolds sees Abram later heading back to the castle/wherever he stays carrying this bouquet of carnations (fascination), narcissus (honesty/truth) and acacia (hidden love) (let’s not look too closely into these flower meanings lol, i picked the first ones I found and I’ll field all further questions with ‘artistic liberty’ 🫶) and they’re pretty close friends by now so she’s immediately like “oh my GODS Abram who gave that to you”

And Abram quietly says “the prince”

And Allison’s won like three separate bets between various other people of the court and she’s elated

But maybe she takes pity on him when she realizes exactly how clueless Abram is, so she does her best to explain everything and finally, Abram begins to allow the possibility that maybe Andrew is doing all this on purpose. But he would really rather like to be certain.

And of course I had to draw your little exchange but I did it from memory so apologies for the changes in dialogue but I love it:

ANYWAY from there, when it’s cleared up, it’s just them being dumb and sweet and grasping at straws for how to be in love and natural about it (because they’re both very private people and a good number of average/expected acts of courtship aren’t necessarily in their wheelhouse) 😭🥹 and not to add yet more hurt/comfort but Andrew is so so determined to figure out a way to assure and reassure Abram that he knows what he’s doing, yes Abram is worth it, yes he’s doing these things because he wants to. If he didn’t want to he wouldn’t be doing it in the first place. And I’ll bring it back around by using my previously mentioned artistic liberty to say that yes Prince Andrew loves having his hands held/kissed (just by Abram naturally) and Abram figures this out and absolutely uses it against him. They love each other your honor

Okay anyway thank you for the ask, I’m SO lucky to have such brilliant people in my inbox 🥰

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 18

A night out at the speakeasy leads to an unexpected connection. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-17 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (broken up), Tommy Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT :D unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up!) and Tommy being an absolute flirt. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only!

Length: 4.8 k

Saturday, May 15, 2010 - Six Months Later

“I need more than a drink,” Lucy put her head on the front desk of the clinic with a groan. “I need at least 2. Probably five.” 

“I think they have that,” Andrew said, smiling a little. “Pretty much the whole draw.” 

“That one guy was such a dick,” she propped her chin on her fist. “Why did I decide to become a nurse again? Why did I think this was a good idea?” 

“Because you made career choices before the world ended and then stuck it out?” You said, sitting on top of the desk behind the counter. 

“Yeah being a nurse wasn’t exactly a walk in the park then, either,” she grumbled. “This is my problem, I’m basically an addict, I get one REALLY GOOD patient and then I act like that fixes alllllll the assholes…” 

“Sounds like dating men,” Marta joined your little group from the exam area. “Lee is finishing up with the final patient and then we’re free. We’re so close, guys. So close I can taste it.” Marta glanced over at you and groaned. “Aw, Doc, you got changed? You look all cute and shit? That’s not fair!” 

“Hey,” you replied. “I have nowhere else to wear the cute dress. You have dates. I have speakeasy night with my coworkers, just give me this.” 

“You could have dates too, if you wanted,” Jess was perched on the other side of the horseshoe shaped desk, Andrew squarely between you in his office chair. Her feet were in his lap. “All you’d have to do is just say yes to one of the guys who talks to you or actually ask someone out.” 

“Yes but why should I when I have you lovely people, all our patients and Petri dishes in the lab to keep me company?” You smiled. Andrew and Jess shared a brief look. You tried to not roll your eyes. Mostly because they’d given you a lot of leeway in the past almost year since you and Joel had split up. Especially when you got back from your trip outside the QZ. 

You hadn’t even bothered to go home that night. You walked straight to Andrew and Jess’ place, knocking on the door and trying to not cry until you were inside. Andrew was the one to answer and you fell into him, burying your face in his chest as it felt like you were cracking open with the pain of it. 

“You were right,” you choked out as he pulled you inside. “About what he did out there, you were right…” 

“Oh, honey,” he wrapped his arms around you the best he could with the backpack in the way, kissing the top of your head before tucking you below his chin. “I’m so sorry. I wish I was wrong. I really do.” 

You slept there that night, Andrew sandwiched between you and Jess, other people and the safety that came with them the only thing that let you rest. 

You’d managed to avoid Joel since you’d returned. It had been half a year since you last saw him that night at the QZ fence. There were signs of him, though. He was usually on your mind somehow, not that you were happy about it. 

A few weeks after the trip, you passed Tess on your way to look for a few more books and CDs at the underground sellers’ shops. She didn’t notice you but you noticed her. It looked like she’d gotten into a fight, she had a black eye and gash at her throat. You frowned. 

“Tess?” You changed direction to follow her. “Tess!” 

She turned and looked surprised that you’d talk to her for a moment before meeting you in the middle. 

“Doc,” she looked you up and down. She had a tendency to do that, you noticed. She liked to evaluate things. Like she thought you might have changed since she last saw you. “Good to see you.” 

“You too,” you smiled. “Look, I’m happy I ran into you, I’ve been thinking…” You glanced around and tugged her off to the side of the road. “You and Tommy and… everyone, you’re still making runs, right?” 

“Not taking you out there again,” she shook her head. “Joel was pretty firm on that…” 

“No, that’s fine,” you waved her off. “I just… You know that saying ‘an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure?’” 

“Sure,” she shrugged. 

“Well there’s only so much I can do for you if you guys come back already hurt, down a lot of blood, all that jazz,” you said. “But if I gave you some basic trauma supplies, showed you how to use them…” 

“You’d do that,” she said it more than asked it. 

“Of course,” you frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?” She didn’t say anything else, so you just pressed on. “Could you plan to come by my apartment sometime this week, late? I can put together some kits, show you what to do for common injuries…” 

“Wednesday?” She asked. 

“After 10:30,” you said. “Should give me time to get home from the clinic.” You were surprised to learn that you actually kind of liked Tess. She showed up to your apartment not long after you did. Wednesday had been a rough one and your shirt was still bloody, deciding to prioritize getting the blood out of your hairline instead of changing your clothes. 

“Doc,” she said by way of greeting, her eyes drifting to the blood on your shirt and back up to your face, strand of bloody hair still in your fingers. 

“Sorry,” you said, giving an apologetic smile. “Had to do a field amputation today without anesthesia, it was a mess… I’m making tea, want a cup?” 

“I’ll take tea,” she said, coming in and sitting at the table. You got your still bloody hair out of the way and quickly pulled the shirt off before grabbing a t-shirt out of the drawer and pulling it on. 

“Sorry,” you smiled apologetically again. “I just really needed to get at least some of that blood off me…” 

You put the tea on the table and grabbed the kit you put together, giving Tess a crash course in trauma stabilization 101. 

“So were you a military doctor when this shit started?” She asked after you packed the supplies back up. 

“Oh God no,” you laughed. “No, I was a biology teacher. I was finishing up a pre-med degree though, and I’d always wanted to be a doctor so I was just reading everything I could find to get a jump on med school. I got here, they were setting up medical facilities with all of one doctor so he trained me.” 

“And how’d you meet Joel?” She was sitting back in he chair, watching you. His name made your stomach clench. 

“You could ask him,” you said, looking at the almost empty tea cup. 

She scoffed. 

“You are an off limits topic,” she said. “For both Miller men, as it happens. Joel doesn’t answer, Tommy says it’s not his shit to say. Joel got back from the trip with you, said nothing for three days and then pretended that nothing happened.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“And you don’t like not knowing,” you said. She smiled. 

“Exactly.” 

You signed, fidgeting with the mug. 

“I met Joel in 1999,” you said. Her eyes went wide. “It’s why they called me Kid, I was just 20 back then, still in college.” 

“Jesus, you were a kid. He still a grumpy asshole then?” She laughed. You laughed back. 

“Very rarely,” you said. “Punched Tommy in the face at a bar once because Joel was being an asshole and Tommy called him on it. Though I made him watch ‘When Harry Met Sally’ and he actually liked it. Tried so hard not to laugh at the fake orgasm scene he choked on his beer.” 

She laughed at that. She told you about some of her life before, too. Spending summer on a lake with her husband and son, a mishap when renovating their basement that left a giant splotch of paint over the new linoleum that they’d never been able to properly clean up. You got both of you beer.

“I was never sure who the outbreak was worse for,” she said. “People like me who had a life going that got ripped away or people like you who never really had a fucking chance at one.” 

“We all got screwed,” you said. “Sometimes I think we all died back then, everyone who’s left is just a ghost of what they would have been otherwise.” 

“And you still wear ribbons on your braids,” she nodded to your hair. You glanced down, the blue ribbon splotched purple where the blood had splattered it. You smiled a little. 

“There are very few things that make life worth it anymore,” you said after a moment. “And life is too short to not wear the damn ribbons.” 

You knew they were using the trauma kit supplies. Tess would show up every six weeks or so, asking for a resupply. She’d even asked for a new euthanasia kit once. You almost had a panic attack before she had the chance to tell you that it wasn’t Joel or Tommy, just a traveler they’d run into who couldn’t bring themselves to turn their gun on themselves. But you hadn’t needed to come pull a bullet out of any of them again, so you were counting their trips as a success. 

“Alright kids,” Lee came out from the exam area, lab coat still on. “We are all set, they’re getting dressed and then we are out of here!” 

“I’m going for the jukebox as soon as we get there,” Marta said. “No one try to stop me!” 

“Oh God,” Andrew groaned. “You’re going to make us listen to the Backstreet Boys all night aren’t you?” 

“Think they’re still alive out there?” She asked. “Just performing for some QZ on the west coast?” 

“Imagine if they’re infected,” Jess said. “You’re just walking down the street and then bam, attacked by a Backstreet Boy…” 

“This,” Andrew looked up at her. “This is why I love you.” 

Walking to the Speakeasy with everyone reminded you a little of college. It helped that you were wearing a sundress like you’d worn so much in Texas. It helped that the weather was warm and the sky was clear. Mostly, it helped that there were people laughing. You weren’t sure if your memory was just selective but it seemed like people just didn’t laugh anymore. 

There were some tables in the corner of the speakeasy that were open and you pushed them together, sitting down with your back against one of the walls. It just felt better that way. 

“Beer?” Andrew looked to Jess. She nodded and he turned to you. “Beer?” 

“I’m thinking a 1996 left bank Bordeaux, something with some good body to it,” you said, thinking. 

“Yeah, so beer?” He smiled. 

“Yes please,” you smiled back. 

“I only put on two songs,” Marta sat beside you. “So, Andrew, Mr. ‘If it’s not rock and roll it’s not music,’ will only have to suffer for so long.” 

“And if only we could get him to suffer in silence,” Jess mused. 

You laughed and Andrew brought beer and you sat drinking with your friends, forgetting for a minute that it was the end of the world. 

“Doc?” 

You turned to see a slightly familiar face. You frowned for a moment, trying to place him when it clicked. 

“Oh my gosh, Tim?” You asked. He smiled, nodding. “Holy cow, you’re so… adult!” 

He laughed. He was a student from your first year as a teacher in the QZ, finishing high school in 2007. You hadn’t seen him since. 

“Yeah, I’m 21 now,” he smiled proudly. “Doesn’t really matter much now but still, cool to say.” 

Bitter Sweet Symphony started playing and he held out his hand. 

“Wanna dance?” He asked. “I think the statute of limitations of you as my teacher are up.” 

“Fuck it,” you shook your head. “Why not?” 

“Yeah!” Marta whooped. “Getting Doc on the dance floor!” 

You flipped her off and she laughed as you followed behind him. 

Tim, you were happy to know, was doing alright for himself. He had a girlfriend he was crazy about. He was stuck working for FEDRA, of course, but he was doing some engineering work. 

“All because you made me interested in science,” he said, one hand at your waist, the other in yours. “So, thanks for that.” 

“You’d have gotten there eventually without me,” you smiled. “But I’ll take some credit for your success.” 

The song changed to something you didn’t recognize, something fun and upbeat. His face brightened. 

“Mind if I spin you?” He asked. “Always wanted to try that.” 

“I am in the dress for it,” you smiled a little. “Go for it, kid.” 

He clumsily twirled you under his arm until his fingers slipped out of yours and sent you spinning across the dance floor. You were laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe and he took your hand again just as you saw Joel, watching you from across the bar. 

Your laughter died and your breath caught in your throat. Seeing him was like seeing a ghost. It took you a moment to understand why but then you realized it. Since November, you’d thought of the Joel you knew as though he were dead. He’d died with Sarah, back in September, 2003. He’d never made it to Boston. 

You’d mourned him in a way. You’d put the few clothes he’d left at your place into the floorboards with your stash - those weren’t his, after all - but left the picture of him, Sarah and you on your nightstand. That Joel wasn’t a killer. That Joel hadn’t blamed you for it. You’d taken to charging your old cell phone, reading back through texts with him and with Sarah that were still stored there every night before you fell asleep. There was a voicemail, too, one from a week before you visited the last time. 

“Hey Baby,” he’d said. “Think I fucked up the time difference again, must still be out with Louisa… Anyway, missin’ ya. Call me when you’re home safe. Love you.” 

That Joel was dead and the man he’d become was staring daggers at you. 

“Doc?” Tim said. 

“Mind if I cut in?” Andrew said. 

“Good to see you, Tim,” you managed to turn and smile at him. “Glad to know you’re doing well.” 

“Take care, Doc,” he smiled, leaving you with Andrew. He pulled you into his arms and put his mouth near your ear. 

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he said quietly, holding you tightly to him so you had no choice but to sway with him. “We’re going to stay out here for this song and we’re going to have a great time. And then we’re going to go back to the table and drink the beers that Jess is getting us right now.” 

“I just…” 

“Nope,” he cut you off. “We’re not doing that, we’re not going to run away because that fucker showed up. We’re going to stay here and we’re going to have fun in spite of his ass. Got it?” 

You just nodded. 

“Good.” 

You weren’t paying attention to the music, the feeling of Joel’s eyes on you drowning out almost everything else, Andrew’s hands on you seeming like the only thing tethering you to the earth. You let him guide you back to the table, a fresh beer sitting in front of your seat. 

“Hey Doc!” Jess said brightly. “So an amnesiac walks into a bar. He goes up to a beautiful blonde and says ‘so… do I come here often?’” 

It took you a second and then you laughed, the spell of Joel’s eyes on you snapping. And life continued on. Until a Texas drawl appeared over your shoulder. 

“Scuse me.” Andrew’s eyes narrowed as you looked behind you, Tommy standing there. “I was really hoping I could get you onto the dance floor.” 

“Me,” you said, incredulous. 

“Well I try to make a habit of getting the prettiest girl at the bar to give me the time of day,” he smiled. “So I’m just hopin’ you’ll cut me a break for old time’s sake.” 

“Look,” Andrew said, but you cut him off. 

“Why not,” you said. He smiled - that fucking Miller man smile - and offered you his hand. You took it and he pulled you to your feet and toward the dance floor. Linger was playing. He put his hands at your waist and your arms went around his neck, swaying in time. 

“So Kid,” he smiled. “How’ve you been?” 

“Good,” you said cautiously. You could feel Joel’s eyes on you. 

“I feel like you’re doubtin’ my good intentions,” he said. 

“If Joel sent you to talk to me, you can tell him to fuck off,” you said. 

“That asshole?” He scoffed. “He about ripped my arm off when I said I was going to ask you to dance, he doesn’t want me doin’ this. You think that’s the only reason I’d come talk to you?” 

“Maybe not the only reason,” you smiled a little. 

“Wasn’t joking about gettin’ the prettiest girl at the bar to give me the time of day,” he smiled back. “Got news for you, any bar you’re in? That’s you. I just have to talk you into it now.” 

You rolled your eyes and shook your head a little, smiling anyway. 

“You’re still such a player, aren’t you?” You teased. 

“Nah, just a charmer,” he said. 

“How’ve you been?” You asked. 

“Well as can be expected,” he shrugged. “Roommate’s a dick but…” 

You snorted and he smiled broader. 

“I told him he was a fuckin’ asshole for what he did to you, you know,” he said after a moment, face turning serious. “He was also a fuckin’ dumbass but he’s always been a dumbass. It’s the asshole shit I can’t stand.” 

“Let me know if the message ever sinks in,” you said wryly. 

“That’ll be the day,” he scoffed. 

The song shifted, something soft and slow. He tugged you closer and your cheek leaned into his chest. You danced quietly for a bit.

“I wanted to ask you out, back in the day,” he said eventually, his lips close to your ear. 

“Really?” You glanced up at him, not wanting to move your head. 

“Joel told me you were ‘off limits,’” he laughed a little. “Course I didn’t know that was because he wanted ya but…” 

“Damn,” you joked. “Dibs really put you off, huh?” 

“If I’d known it was just dibs it wouldn’t have,” he replied. 

The song changed to Black Magic Woman and he stepped back from you a bit. 

“Now, see, I might have had some ulterior motives,” he smiled sheepishly. “May have put this on the jukebox in hopes I could get you to dance to it with me…” 

“I don’t know how to dance to this,” you laughed, moving to head back to your seat, hand still in his. He caught you and pulled you back against him. 

“I do,” his hand went to the small of your back, pressing your hips against his. You swallowed. “Just gotta follow my lead, pretty girl.” 

He took the lead, his hips pushing against yours, moving in sharp rhythm. You could feel him through his jeans. His legs nudged yours in the right steps, your breasts flush against him. His eyes traced your face, lingering on your lips. 

The song felt too short, the two of you coming to a stop in the middle of the dance floor, bodies still close together. 

“How ‘bout a drink?” He smiled. 

“Sure,” you smiled back. He laced his fingers with yours and led you to the bar, just catching a glimpse of Joel standing up and storming off as you did. 

Tommy joined the table with your coworkers, pulling up a chair close to yours, one hand on the small of your back. Marta asked how you knew each other and immediately latched on to the “we’ve been friends for 11 years” thing to get stories out of him like the time he tried to teach you to grill and you accidentally set the thing on fire and seriously considered pushing it into the pool to put it out. 

“We’re gonna head out,” Andrew said before he leaned in to kiss your cheek goodbye, whispering in your ear as he did. “You OK?” 

You just nodded and he left with Jess. You realized then that they were the last of the party to leave. 

“One more drink,” Tommy smiled. “Just you and me.” 

“Well if you’re going to twist my arm about it,” you smiled back. 

The bar was emptying out, just a few stragglers left on the dance floor. Tommy got you both a whiskey on the rocks, sitting next to you in a booth, putting his arm around your shoulders. You propped your feet on the chair across the table from you and leaned your head on his chest, swirling the whiskey in your chipped glass. The ice clinked. 

“Missed seein’ you,” he said after a minute, taking a drink. “You always just… Made shit better. It’s all brighter with you.” 

“You’re sweet,” you smiled a little, taking a drink. “And I’ve missed seeing you, too.” 

Closing Time came on and Tommy laughed. 

“We can take a hint!” He yelled over your head before finishing his drink. “We’re goin, we’re goin.” 

You laughed, polishing yours off, too, before getting up. You could just barely feel the alcohol in your head, far from drunk and just on the edge of tipsy. 

“C’mon,” he said. “I’ll walk you home.” 

“You know, I walk home on my own late at night most days,” you said, following him out of the bar, anyway. “Always ends up fine.” 

“Humor me,” he smiled, holding out his hand. You smiled back, taking it. He tugged you close to him, setting an easy pace. 

You talked about random things you missed about Austin, laughing when you mentioned your favorite second hand clothing shop downtown near campus. 

“Isn’t that just shopping now?” He teased. 

“Oh you know it’s not the same,” you laughed. “I got this great dress there once from the 70s. I think I only wore it once, to a wedding, but damn did it make my boobs look fantastic. One of life’s great regrets is the fact that it’s rotting away in my closet in New York.” 

“Damn,” he shook his head. “Now one of my great regrets is not seeing that dress…” 

You laughed, stopping at the door to your building. 

“This is me,” you half smiled. 

“How about I walk you up?” He asked. You raised your eyebrows. “I know I know, but how often do you walk home from the clinic with a few drinks in you?”

“I’ve treated you, do you want to know the answer to that question?” You teased. He laughed. 

“Well those times, I wouldn’t have to feel guilty if somethin’ happened to ya,” he said. “Let me walk you up.” 

“If that’s what will help you live the dream, Miller, far be it from me to stop you.” 

You opened the communal door and led the way upstairs, stopping by your apartment. 

“See?” You teased, after unlocking your door but leaving it closed and turning to face him. “So eventful.” 

He leaned his arm against the door frame, caging you in on one side. His eyes dropped to your lips before going back to your eyes. 

“Still think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he said quietly, his free hand delicately lifting your chin toward him. 

“Tommy,” you breathed. His hand slipped from your chin to the back of your head, his thumb still along your cheek. 

“Want me to stop?” He asked, moving closer.

You swallowed. 

“No,” you said. 

“Good,” he said. “Neither do I.” 

He kissed you then. Soft, gentle, his lips parting just enough that you could taste the whiskey on his breath. He leaned his body into yours, the hips that had been moving with yours on the dance floor pressing into you a different way now. A familiar ache sparked low in your stomach as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck. 

You weren’t sure how long he kissed you, but after a moment, he pulled back, a little breathless. 

“Why don’t we go inside?” He said softly. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, opening the door behind you. 

Things moved a lot faster then. His hands slid the straps of your dress down your arms before your door was fully closed. He reached to lock it while you fumbled with the buckle of his belt. His lips were on yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth, his hands ranging over every inch of skin they could reach before sliding your dress down to pool on the floor. You pulled at the buttons of his shirt until you were able to shove it off and he quickly unclipped your bra. He looked down at your bare chest, panting for breath a little. 

“Damn,” he said. “Don’t regret not seein’ the dress anymore. This is so much fuckin’ better.” 

He stepped out of his boots quickly and you unbutton and unzipped his pants. You kicked off your sandals and he tugged your panties down, leaving them on the floor as you pulled him against you toward your bed. He paused, your legs against the bed, his hands holding you gently. 

“You sure you’re good with this?” He asked. 

“Just kiss me, Miller,” you said. He wasted no time obliging. 

You pulled him onto your bed with you, his weight settling easily between your thighs. He slid a hand down your body to your pussy, softly tracing your clit for a moment before pressing his fingers against you, working you in slow, longing circles. You moaned against his mouth, rocking your hips against his hand. You felt him smile against your lips. 

Tommy slipped a thick finger inside you, exploring you, the tip brushing your inner walls until he found the spot that made your toes curl. He added another finger, working both of them against the place inside you, adding his thumb to your clit until your back arched and you came with a loud moan around him. 

“Fuck, gorgeous,” he pressed his lips to your collar bone. “Gonna need you to do that again while I’m inside you… you’ve got me fuckin’ desperate for it…” 

“Then get inside me,” you panted, reaching between your bodies to take his cock in your hand. He was thick, hard, not so long that you were worried about whether or not he would fit but long enough that you knew he would fill you. You worked him up and down, spreading the wetness from his tip over him. 

“Tryin’ to kill me, I swear,” he said, slipping his fingers from inside you to himself, brushing your hand away. He lined himself up with your entrance, pressed his lips to yours and thrust into you. 

The stretch was immediate, a sharp but pleasant burn as he sank into you. He moaned against your lips and you rocked your hips against him, making his movements stutter. 

“You trying to make me cum before I’m even inside you?” He gasped. “Fucking hell, girl.” 

He thrust the rest of the way inside you in one quick, hard motion, making your back arch, pulling a delicious moan from your lips. His arm slipped below you, pulling your torso flush with his as he began to fuck into you, his thick cock sliding out to just the tip before thrusting back against your back wall with every stroke. You clung to him as his lips found your throat, your breasts, his hard length moving faster, more forcefully every time. The tip of him was hitting the spot inside you with every movement, your second orgasm building fast. 

“Fuck, I’m going to…” you managed. He thrust harder, your sentence ending in a strangled cry. 

“Won’t last when you do,” he gasped. “Where can I…” 

“I’m on the pill,” you said quickly. 

“Thank fuck.” 

He picked up the pace, holding himself deep inside you every few strokes, your body tightening and coiling around him until you felt the taught band of pleasure snap, your core pulsing around him. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck…” he groaned, thrusting two more times before collapsing on top of you, both of you limp and gasping for breath. 

He pressed his lips to your throat, still deep inside you, and you saw the picture frame with Joel and Sarah on your nightstand out of the corner of your eye. While he was distracted, you reached up and silently set it face down before wrapping your arms around the man in your bed. 

A/N: THAT'S RIGHT GUYS SHE'S GETTING WITH BOTH BROTHERS AND JOEL FUCKING HATES IT. This has been building since literally day one of this story lol. Tommy has had a crush on her FOREVER and now it's finally paying off - for him and for us (because we get the drama of it)

I have a taglist, so if you'd like to be included, just comment below! Thank you so so much for reading and following along. I hope you enjoy the drama and the angst! Love you all!

Taglist: @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123 @jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10

[yourstrqly]

the prettiest; robertson

pairing: andy robertson x fem!reader

warnings: pregnant reader

rina's masterlist

Walking through the house in search of you after being out and about with the boys, Andy had grabbed a tube of your favourite ice cream from the freezer and two spoons. Your kids were at his parents home for the next few days as you decided to enjoy a bit of alone time; two daughters were everything he could've wished for, they were smart and shared your best facial features, but also loved playing football with him — which always melted your heart whenever you saw the three of them play together.

Andrew didn't expect you to be outside; you had texted him earlier, claiming that you had just gotten off work and your shared home was dirty, but nonetheless he liked seeing you laying on a lounger under the warmth of mai. Coming closer the man smiled softly — there you relaxed, no worry clung on you body, hands protectively holding your stomach beneath the t-shirt, you had definitely stolen from him.

For the third time you'd give him the best gift mankind could wish for — a baby.

You only had found out a month ago while vacationing in Italy. The four of you had been on a beach, eating one too many gelato when suddenly you looked him in the eyes, asking him to buy a pregnancy test to check if your suspicion was correct. And it had been. Missing your period was the death giveaway as you always had it regularly and to be quite frank, Andy had been over the moon. It wasn't planned but honestly it made both of you incredibly exited.

He gently strock a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, letting his hand rest against your cheek, kissing you lips slowly. You immediately reply by kissing back and laying your much smaller hand in his.

"Hi darling", the footballer greeted you after ending the kiss.

You flutter your eyelashes at him, happy to having him home. "Hello Bear, had fun?"

"It was alright. Virg was in a mood today and talked lots of bullshit but that's nothing new", he replied dryly, making you laugh. The Dutch often trashtalked, bringing the people around him to grin brightly (though he wasn't on the Scotts).

Looking in each others eyes, you relished the peace and after a while you had rested your head against his chest, drawing circles. Then you spied the ice cream and as much as loved being hold, you broke free and snatched the tube of the table besides the lounger. Happily you took a spoonful of the icy food, groaning at the delicious flavour. Andy hadn't made a move, keeping his hands on your hips as you sat eating in-between his legs.

"You're pretty", he whispered, eyes roaming along your body and stopping at your stomach. Blinking a few moments, you weren't sure if you heard him correctly, too invested in the ice cream beforehand.

"What am I?", you questioned.

Your partner gently grasped your chin to turn you around, watching your slightly confused face. His thumb swiped a drop of the melted good from the coronor of your mouth away, to suck it into his mouth.

"I said you're pretty."

"Just pretty, Bear?", you exclaimed, playfully hitting his shoulder. The action made the both of you grin widely, however he then turned serious.

"You're the prettiest."

[ellivenollivander]

Valentine's Day

@halfwisteria suggested a Pre-Valentines Day scenario for Amit, a few weeks ago and I finally got inspired to write something for it! Rating: 18+ for insinuations Summary: MC loathes Valentine's Day because she's lonely and desperately in love with her best friend. For two Ravenclaws they sure are dumb. Pairing: Amit Thakkar x F!MC Word Count: 4,329 (LOL) A/N: Aged up characters (seventh year at Hogwarts), broody MC, Sebastian Sallow cameo!

MC had half a mind to simply lock herself in her dorm room, bed curtains tightly closed for all hours of the day until the fifteenth of February. 

Perhaps she could convince her professors she had come down with a terrible case of spattergroit and simply did not wish to be seen by anyone. It seemed like a reasonable enough excuse, though the more she thought about it on her walk to History Of Magic, she realized they would probably have her whisked away to the hospital wing where Madam Blainey would see by her clear complexion and ability to speak that she definitively did not have spattergroit. 

She grunted against the door of the classroom, rolling her eyes at Adelaide and Evangeline who were giggling around a bit of parchment when she entered, scowling at the little hearts they were taking turns drawing along the edges. 

It wasn’t that she hated romance or love in general, but the sudden public displays of it this time of year were starting to grate on her already frayed nerves under the stress of her NEWTS. It had absolutely nothing to do with the longing she held for her best friend, who was sitting in his usual spot in the classroom. His schoolbag tucked into the chair at his side, for her, his body curled over a book laid on the table. 

MC gave Amit a halfhearted grunt as a greeting as she slumped into her chair, resting her head on the table. Half hoping that if she licked the dirty surface beneath her face she really could contract spattergroit. Surely it would be better than having to suffer hormonal teenagers groping one another in the corridors of a school. 

Amit’s laugh as he shoved her shoulder with his own had her turning her head to look up at him. Her heart performing an involuntary somersault at the amusement in his kind eyes. 

He pressed a finger against her forehead, pushing her gently, eyebrow quirked.

“You alright, MC? You seem… upset. Not that it’s a bad thing or that I’m upset by you being upset. It’s okay to be upset. But you can talk to me if you are.” 

MC laughed softly, with her cheek still resting on the table, letting Amit run out of breath. 

“I just hate Valentine’s Day. Makes me want to toss myself off the Astronomy tower. I swear if I see one more pink heart or one more couple practically fornicating in the corridors I’m going to do so.” 

Amit stifled a laugh of his own, rolling his eyes at his best friend's favorite threat against her own life at every minor inconvenience that befalls her. 

“Well then, you might want to keep your head down because Andrew Larson and Lenora Everleigh  are…” His face fills with a blush and contorts into something crossed between curiosity and disgust, his gaze somewhere behind her head. “… probably better off skipping class altogether and finding a broom cupboard.” 

MC whips her head around, curiosity getting the better of her. She indeed witnesses Andrew pressing Lenora against the wall of the classroom, shoving his tongue down her throat. 

She turns back to Amit, her eyes rolling so far into her skull she thinks she may sprain something. 

Amit just laughs at her, his face now back to normal with his eyes back on his desk. 

“I told you not to look, to be fair.”

“But you knew I would!”

“Astronomy towers that way.” His finger pointing absentmindedly in a random direction, a smile still tugging at the corners of his lips. When she made a move to stand, he pulled her back down by the sleeve of her robe.

“Stop that, it’s not that bad, really. They’re just in…love.” His eyes were soft, almost pleading when he met her gaze. “You should let them enjoy it.”

“They’re not in love, Amit. They’re hormonal and I’m not stopping them from their attempts to contract every venereal disease possible, I’m simply stopping myself from having to witness it.” She knew she sounded bitter, lonely even. Though she couldn’t help it much, and she was saved from Amit’s further lecture by Professor Binns’ own. 

Despite every other student getting to catch up on their sleep during this particular class, She was forced to stay awake alongside Amit. If she dared even blink for too long, he would pinch her beneath the table. He couldn’t force her to pay attention to the droning of their paranormal professor, however, so she entertained herself with thoughts of how best to avoid actually existing in the school for at least the next several days. 

She was working her way through a delicious scenario involving being dragged to the bottom of the Black Lake by a pack of vicious grindylows when a piece of parchment smacked her square in the forehead. She scowled at Amit, assuming it was his feeble attempt to pull her back to the dissolution of the wizards council, but he was staring straight ahead, taking his usual notes. 

She frowned and picked up the parchment, but before she could unfold it, her attention was drawn to the table ahead of her, where she was being psst at. 

Adelaide Oakes was staring at her with a wide eyed look and a red face as she frantically pointed at Amit, while Evangeline giggled beside her. MC bristled, mind going back to the parchment the two Hufflepuffs had been fawning over when she had entered the classroom. 

She contemplated walking up and shoving it down her peppy little throat. Instead, she slid it over to Amit and tapped his arm to point it out. Feeling a bit satisfied when he glowered at it before shoving it into the pocket of his robes. Losing a bit of that satisfaction when he hissed at her for writing him notes during class, when she should be paying attention.

MC had to take a deep breath to avoid setting fire to the classroom. 

“It wasn’t me, Amit. I-” She was about to tell him that if she had a mind to declare her love for him she’d do it in person, not in a damned note like a lovesick third year. Then she realized she did love him and had no mind to do any such thing. The fear of losing his friendship, greater than the desires of her heart. “Well, aren’t you going to read it? Then you’ll know it wasn’t me.” 

Amit waved her off, and she let him. If only because she recognized the growing look of irritation on his face at missing the lecture. MC really did try not to take pleasure in the way Adelaide’s face fell when she watched the receiver of her wretched little note shove it into his pocket with a scowl, but she was only human and she bit back her smile as she returned to daydreams of a different kind. Ones much less morbid, and a bit more on theme for the tone of the castle these days. 

When class was dismissed, Amit had to rouse her from her fantasies with a pinch to her arm and a chastising look.  She followed him out the doors with a grumble, nearly having forgotten the note until Amit pulled her into a corner, his hand fishing into his robe pocket and pelting her with questions. 

MC stomach twisted with anxious nausea as he retrieved the parchment, after she explained what she had seen, his hands shaking and face flushed. 

She recoiled when he thrust it at her. 

“What?! No! It’s for you!”

“I can’t do it, MC. Please.”

She softened, just for him and the desperation in his eyes, and took the note between her thumb and forefinger. He pulled it back before she could take it from his hand. 

“No! You're right, I should read it. I should do it, she wrote it to me.” His shaking hands held the parchment, while his thumbs ran anxious circles over it. “Who wrote it? Adelaide or Evangeline?” 

“Do you have a preference?” MC’s tone was laced with more venom than she had intended, and she winced at herself. The fall from the Astronomy Tower was sounding more and more ideal, as she watched the man she loved look so giddy at the prospect of two girls suddenly showing interest in him. As if the girl standing in front of him hadn’t been devoted to him since their very first astronomy class, back in fifth year. 

She took a deep breath, attempting to fight back the angry green monster rearing its ugly head. She could reconcile her annoyance with either Adelaide or Evangeline, but the guilt of snapping at her favorite person in the world had her taking another deep, steadying breath. 

“I just mean, I wasn’t aware you were interested in either of them. You’ve never… told me.” It felt like it was taking everything inside of her to act natural, to not betray the lump in her throat or the queasiness of her stomach. 

“Adelaide’s nice! She’s really nice, did you know her Uncle works with goblins? He’s a metal trader! Oh and Evangeline loves history, she and I bump into each other a lot in the library. We share book recommendations with each other. Do you… do you know anything else about her? I know she helped you restore the bells for the school.”

MC had to bite back her retort of how Evangeline did not help with anything. How she had sent her up with nothing but the knowledge that bells had to be restored. It had taken her 45 minutes to get the bells to do what she wanted, in the furnace that was the music room. 

Instead, she took another deep breath. 

“Why don’t you just read the note, Amit. Then you can decide who your future wife is.”  

This time, she managed to keep the bile down where it belonged, and her voice teasing in lieu of malicious. 

“It’s just a note, MC it could be… it could just be her asking for my help with Astronomy or… or maybe she wants to borrow my notes…” He has finally begun to unfold the note, and MC let’s herself believe Amit’s innocent attempts to guard himself against the hope of someone crushing on him. MC knows better, she saw the blushing girls’ faces and heard their giggles. But the flicker of hope was enough to keep her from lighting the parchment aflame with her gaze alone. 

The thirty seconds it takes Amit to open the note, and read its contents feels like hours. His face blushes a deep red, and he’s got a smile on his lips that MC has only seen in rare circumstances of extreme happiness. She wants to use her own skull as a battering ram against the stone wall. 

“Well?” Her patience was running thin, and her skin was prickling with anxiety and pathetic pining. 

“Adelaide! It … it was Adelaide! She… she wants to know if I’ll be her Valentine. I.. I think that would be nice.. having somewhere to go with someone … she’s nice and.. and she’s cute don’t you think? MC?” Amit was staring at her, expecting input from his best friend, who at the moment was currently fighting tears or vomit, she was still trying to decide when he said her name again. 

She shook herself out, taking yet another deep shaky breath. 

“If that’s what you want, Amit.”  

She meets his gaze, and he seems to falter. His mouth opening and closing in silence before he drops her gaze, looking back at the note still laying in his hand. 

“Yeah… I think it is. I think it will be nice. And fun! It’s just one day right? It doesn’t hurt to explore it! I’m going… I’m going to go find her and .. and set something up.” 

He slides the note into his pocket, and walks away, feet moving quickly to try and catch up to the two girls who had left the hall arm in arm. Leaving MC standing alone, still feeling a bit sick. 

She nurses her broken heart alongside Sebastian, who had taken minimal convincing to skip Potions class to sling curses in the Undercroft.

It doesn’t take him long to pick up on her agitation, when he has to repair the dummy they nicked off of Lucan, after she had casted a particularly powerful bombarda. 

When the dummy is as good as new, he turns to meet her unapologetic gaze. 

“Alright, what’s got you so pissed off?” He stands between her and the dummy, arms crossed in front of his chest. She’s equally irritated and grateful for how well he knows her. 

MC feels herself deflate, feeling safe enough to be vulnerable with the man she sees as a brother, here in their little sanctuary. 

“Can’t I just be pissed off for no good reason?” His amused smirk at her response eases her nerves even further.  That, coupled with the exhaustion from their spell practice has her dragging her feet to a crate and slumping on to it. “… I just hate Valentine’s Day. I hate seeing all of these vile couples and their disgusting love and their awful public displays of affection. It’s as if someone has gassed the castle with amortentia.” 

Sebastian joins her, his knee knocking against hers playfully as he sits beside her. 

“Are you jaded, MC? You’re sounding quite jaded.”

When she shoots him a glare, he doesn’t miss a beat. “Lonely, then?” 

When she visibly tenses, he lets out a small laugh, his face still kind and concerned despite the humor he finds in seeing his friend in such a state. MC considers switching targets for her spell practice. 

“MC, I could point my finger at any man in this castle and they’d fall head over heels at the chance to take you out.” 

She scrunches her nose at the notion, rolling her eyes as she stares at the stone floor of the Undercroft. 

“Well, I don’t want just any man. I’m not just going to throw myself at anything with a pulse.” She meets his gaze, and continues on. “I may have my eye on a specific man…” She trails off, balking slightly in the face of her confession. When Sebastian’s eyes widen, and he runs his hand over the back of his neck, uncomfortably she stares at him in confusion. 

“MC… I’m flattered, really. But… I see you as more of a sister… and I’m with Poppy.” 

MC sputters, fighting back the urge to vomit on the floor at the thought. 

“Gods, no, not you!” She throws in a gag and a look of disgust for good measure, clearly his ego could use the blow. “You're like a brother to me.” 

The awkward tension immediately dissolves with their shared laughter and MC feels herself feeling lighter, braver. 

“It’s…Merlin, I’ve never admitted it out loud before.” She takes another deep breath, and stares at the floor. Her head filling with her dark haired Ravenclaw, his kind eyes. His passion for knowledge. His ability to love unconditionally anyone or anything he deems worthy. 

“ItsAmit.” She admits it quickly, like pulling a sliver. Her eyes unwavering in their gaze on the floor. She can feel her cheeks heat in a blush, she doesn’t have to look in a mirror to know that her face is crimson red. 

“Oh. That makes sense… So tell him, ask him out for Valentine's Day.” Sebastian’s knee knocking against hers was meant to be comforting, yet she still wrinkled her nose at the suggestion. 

“First of all, ew. Second of all, I can’t… he’s going out with Adelaide Oakes.” MC cannot hold back the venom in her tone at the name of the girl she’s seething with jealousy towards. 

When Sebastian is silent, she glares at him. He looks deep in thought, staring at the floor. She punches his shoulder, perhaps a bit harder than necessary to draw his attention back to her and her self pity. 

His face immediately splits into a cheeky grin, mischief flashing in his eyes as he turns back towards her. 

“Sorry, was just thinking about them as a couple. It’s cute. They have my blessing.”  

MC punches him again, this time definitely harder than necessary. He clutches the injured spot on his arm with a loud laugh. 

“Right. Sorry. I’m meant to be comforting aren’t I?” 

When MC continues staring at him in disbelief he laughs again, punching her shoulder back. As gently as he can. 

“I think you should tell him. What, Are you scared?” 

They both know that he’s teasing her, but when she grimaces at the question, he lets out a soft oh. Then collects himself, rubbing her shoulder in an awkward attempt at comforting her. He’s grateful when she shrugs him off. They’re close, like family, but physical affection between the two friends was rare at best. 

“Not scared of telling him, not really anyway… but scared of losing what we have. He’s my best friend, Sebastian. I don’t know if I could live with myself if we lost that. Our connection, our comfort with one another.” She sounds exasperated, like she’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. She ignores Sebastian feigning hurt at the enunciation she had made at the words best friends, his hand held over his heart. “I just feel as though it’s not worth the risk. I’ll just have to find a way to live with feeling this way about him.” 

Sebastian heaves a sigh, his hands running through his hair, evidence of his concentration.

“You’re sure it’s not just a fleeting feeling? The season clouding your judgement?” His hands waving softly in the air. “Hormones?” 

MC heaves a sigh of her own, and when she meets Sebastian’s gaze once again, her eyes are wet with tears of longing.

“No, Sebastian. I wish it was fleeting. I feel like I’m walking around with my heart in a vice. I love him. I’m in love with him, and I think I have been since I met him.” She hates the way she sounds, desperately pining after her best friend. The regret of not acting on her love for him months ago, making her chest constrict, bringing bile into her throat. She wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her uniform, tears now falling freely at sitting in her regret, her desire. 

Gratitude finding its way into the compounding emotions she was being overtaken by, when Sebastian turns away. Pretending to be interested in the tower of discarded furniture in the corner. She’s thankful for his small act of mercy. 

“Do you want advice? Or do you just want to wallow?” His voice is soft, through the chastising tone. They both know this isn’t her, always having been the girl to face every challenge, every obstacle, with her head held high. 

She manages a small laugh, wiping away the last of her traitorous tears. 

“We both know you’re going to say what you want to say anyway.” 

He makes a sound of agreement, deep in his throat before he turns to her. His hands rolling his wand between them. 

“I know you, and I know Amit, thanks to you. I think you should tell him. Even if” He holds his hand in her face when she opens her mouth to object. “Even if the feelings aren’t reciprocated. The two of you would get through it. Don’t think either one of you would much like to be without the other, in any capacity.” 

~*~

Back up in the Ravenclaw common room, Sebastian’s words are still ringing in her head as MC stares at the ceiling from the couch she had claimed for the past few hours. Quite literally lying in wait for Amit to come back from the library. 

Every sound near the door had her ears perked up, eyes moving towards it like a dog waiting for the return of its owner. She felt downright silly, but her mind could be occupied by nothing else but the proclamation of love she was about to bestow on her best friend. 

Sebastian had promised her a raid of the kitchens for cauldron cakes and ice cream if it went downhill. She was clinging to that promise like an anchor in the sea of anxiety she now found herself in. 

Just as she was about to round on some poor second year to beg him to double check that Amit wasn’t actually in his dorm. He walked through the door, arms laden with books and a look of contentment on his face. 

She lurched from the couch immediately, putting herself between him and the dormitory stairs. 

“Can we talk?” 

~*~

Minutes later they stood in the cold night, wrapped in a warming charm above the Ravenclaw Common Room.

MC was pacing, her eyes on the toes of her boots, while Amit's eyes followed her, anxiety written into his features at the behavior of his best friend. 

Her stomach was tied up in knots, and she had to continually take deep steadying breaths to stop from hurling herself over the railing and falling to her demise.

Sebastian’s words are still ringing in her head. 

The two of you will get through it. 

Neither one of you would much like to be without the other. 

They spurred her on. She turned on her heel one last time, before facing Amit.

He stood up straight under her gaze.

“MC wha-” 

She cut him off with a shake of her head and another deep breath.

“No, I’m sorry. I just need to get this out before I lose my courage. Please.” She wondered for a moment which she’d prefer. Facing Ranrok beneath the castle again, or facing a potential rejection from her best friend when she confesses her love for him, above it. 

Amit nodded slowly, his voice caught in his throat, unsure of how to comfort the girl in front of him when he wasn’t being allowed to speak. He opted for a comforting hand on her shoulder, to which filled her face with a blush and she resisted the urge to lean into it. 

She held her hands up in front of her body, nearly touching Amit’s chest. 

“Okay. I’m not really one for dramatic speeches or reciting love poems or even drawing pathetic little hearts on bits of parchment and tossing them onto your coursework. But I need to get it off of my chest, and I know this is the worst possible fucking time, and could potentially ruin our entire friendship and sully every memory we’ve ever made together…” She takes another deep breath, her eyes shut tight to avoid watching Amit’s reaction to her rambling confession. “... What I'm trying to say, in a very long winded way is that… I’m in love with you. Have been in love with you, and I’m sorry.”

When it feels like far too many minutes have passed and Amit still hasn’t said a word, she risks opening her eyes. Finding him staring into hers, eyes wet with tears and face bathed in the soft light of the moon. 

“Do…Do you mean it?” His voice is soft, she wouldn’t have heard him if it wasn’t for the silent night around them. 

She’s taken aback by the question and she takes yet another risk, taking his hands in hers. 

“Of course I mean it, I wouldn’t lie or joke about something like this, Amit.”  

He sniffs, pulling his hands back to wipe his eyes before running them down his face. His voice jumbled when he speaks from behind them.

“I love you too.”

She’s sure she’s hallucinating, grabbing his hands again to make him look at her.

“Say… Say it again.” 

He gives her another soft smile, scoffing just a bit before he squeezes the hands that are still entwined with hers.

“I love you too.” 

Despite the euphoria slowly growing inside of her, she can’t help her mischievous smirk. Slowly starting to feel like herself again, feeling comfortable and safe with him again.

“Do you mean it?” 

He laughs softly, rolling his eyes.

Then he kisses her. 

His hands drop hers, and he cups her face, cold fingers sliding themselves into her hair as he presses his lips against hers. She makes a soft sound of surprise, before she melts into it. Her own hands clutching his robes as he leans into her, making her dizzy. 

When they pull apart, they’re both a bit dazed, smiles on both their faces, excitement buzzing between them. 

MC breaks the comfortable silence first, fingers still curled into the fabric of his robes as she stares into his eyes. 

“So what now?” 

~*~ 

Amit had tracked down Adelaide first thing the next morning, full of apologies and explanations. I’m in love with someone else. She had taken it gracefully, making MC feel nauseatingly guilty at the animosity she had held for the girl only days before, and it hadn’t taken long for her and the rest of the castle to pick up on the differences in the way the two Ravenclaws now carried themselves through the halls. Fingers laced together, blushing faces and disappearances into the restricted section when they were meant to be studying in the library. 

February 14th finally arrives.

It’s just after midnight when MC manages to catch a glimpse of the clock on Amit’s end table, through the crack in the bed curtains that were pulled tightly shut. 

She’s curled against Amit's body, in his bed, in his dorm. Her clothes lost somewhere in the blankets, having been long forgotten when her boyfriend had slid them from her body in the heat of the night, and the soft sounds of Amit’s heartbeat where she lay against his chest, were like a lullaby pulling her with him to sleep.

It was in this moment that MC decides she really doesn’t mind Valentine’s Day. 

[ghost-tings]

alright guys I will try and get some more elio sketches/drawings out by like tomorrow/tonight maybe as I'm gonna be kinda busy but I can still take my ipad places with me, low-key wish I had an apple pen now but I don't I do have my trusty stilius stylus idk how it's spelt so yeah that's legit what I used to do elios character sheet the more you know

(ive also recently got into cotl so wooo yay that's fun)

I will try and post like a snippit/ just a text lire post of elio's reaction to andrew gutting neil with a exy racquet.

some more little info is that elio dislikes exy, he knows it's important to Neil and so he just bears it, he sits on the benches at practise but hardly pays attention to the game.

(this is like au talk rn I think so like seth lives aus talk) if seth had lived than elio would have been babysat by seth and Allison whenever the monsters went to edens if elio didn't wanna tag along (that's like nontfc talk so like probably roughly some where in trk)

onto how elio and seth found out that the kid is obsessed with mac and cheese is basically where neil went to night practise but left elio at the dorm so the boy could sleep. however obviously elio couldn't sleep and so seth had gestured for him to follow him to the kitchen and just grabbed some things from the cupboard such as {instant ramen, kraft mac and cheese(or whatever mac and cheese), cereal} elio hadn't ever had mac and cheese that wasn't from like a cheap dinnor [dinner,dinnar] so he poked at the box and seth cooked the full box {idk why} he put some in one of those plastic kid bowls {it had racoons on it} and elio tried it and got like a look of awe on his face and just started to scarf it down, seth had to like drag the bowl away so he wouldn't choke because of quickly he was eating, he then proceed to write a small note reading "your kid likes kraft mac and cheese nearly ate the whole thing, cooked full box so leftovers in the fridge" and he stuck it to the fridge with a magnet

[drrutherford]

May, 2024.

It starts like this; his father offers him a cigar. And Gideon declines.

"Now you're too good for my old cigars?"

It's a poisoned dart. His nerves begin to thrum. "That's not-... It has nothing to do with that." He defends, following Andrew into his office. "I'm just thinking if I win this case it'll mean that I'll have Felix around a lot more so I'm trying to- I probably shouldn't..."

There's a puff of smoke from the lit Cohiba Siglo, the bitter coffee scent singes his nostrils even at a distance. Andrew exhales sardonically. "Ah, yes. A model father."

Gideon looks at him. Really looks, and sees, perhaps for the first time, what he's failed to see these last few years. The flash of insecurity-resentment in his father's chestnut eyes, the wiry hair – more salt than pepper these days – frown lines about his mouth, the papery creases around the corners of his eyes... He's getting old. Older, perhaps frailer, too. Maybe it shouldn't come as a shock. But for someone who's always been more myth than man, as immortal and impervious to ageing as some demigod in the Greek Pantheon — it's a realization that occurs to him with a start. Gideon lashes his own retort back behind his teeth, letting the patriarch's bitterness pass as if unnoticed.

"You know I've been seeing Amélie."

"The schoolteacher, you mean? The one we had over for the holidays?"

"Journalist." The surgeon corrects a little tersely. He can't help the suspicion that it's an intentional slight, innocently dressed as a slip. Andrew has information at his fingertips and all the paranoia in the world to use it; knows everything Gideon wants to do almost before he does it. He would have found every piece of dirt on Amélie that he could find, traced her genealogy back to Eve and the Serpent before letting her so much as draw breath under the crystal chandeliers of his front foyer. He knows she's a journalist.

"Pleasant young lady," Andrew acknowledges charitably, "awfully well-mannered." But Gideon knows that it's about as much a compliment as he might throw to the runt of a litter. The mob boss has little use for well-mannered in his world and esteems it about the same amount. "What is it you wish to tell me about her, son?"

For all his years'-long stubbornness as his father's black sheep, Gideon feels a tendril of trepidation run through him at the question. The familial phrasing, the luring invitation. He wets his lips. "We've been together for almost a year now and known each other far before that. I know I didn't-... I haven't advertised that part, exactly," – he hadn't denied it, either, but had kept external opinions at bay as long as possible by avoiding the label of 'girlfriend' to shelter her – "but we've gotten to know each other in all that time."

"How wonderful."

Gideon struggles to continue. "And-... Well, the point is, I can't keep lying to her."

"Then don't."

"I mean about us. The family."

Andrew Rutherford's hawk-like gaze meets him over the thick frame of his reading glasses. "I fail to see how that's relevant to your girlfriend. Otherwise known as a girl who may be here today and gone tomorrow. With all due respect, of course."

"She won't be. That's my point." The stubborn streak is back as son and father stare at each other over the latter's desk, though Gideon feels his pulse beginning to hammer in his throat. "She's important to me... Special. I want to pursue something serious with her, but I can't do that in good conscience if I'm lying to her all the while. She deserves to know what she's signing up for, by being with me."

"Signing up for what, exactly?" A droll tone enters his father's voice. "You've made it ever so clear you have no part in this family's business endeavours, I hardly see how—"

"It's not good enough. I'm still lying by omission. It still affects her, my association to the family alone is enough to affect her. Reflect on her, it wouldn't be fai—"

"And how is it fair to this family that you would spoon-feed a journalist her next big break by telling her whatever drivel it is you believe about the work that we do?"

"Drivel?" He echoes. It's followed by a disbelieving scoff. There are so many things he could say to that in reply, write an entire bloody essay on exactly the sort of drivel his father has been responsible for in countless neighbourhoods across two continents an ocean apart. The fires he's ignited, the lives he has torn apart, the brainwashing of their mutual loved ones to bear the brunt of that blame alongside him. It makes him sick to the gills to think of all the drivel his father's allowed or actively incited, but it isn't why he's here today. He's fought that battle a million times already... He's always lost.

"She isn't like that. You don't know her at all." Gideon struggles to keep his voice even, rather than accusatory. Remembering that it has been just as much his choice to keep Amélie away from his father as it is Andrew's to be dismissive of everyone's potential to be more than lying, thieving opportunists.

"Whose fault is that?"

A muscle tenses in his jaw. His gaze stays fixed to the cabinet behind his father's desk, patience beginning to fray. "All I'm trying to say is that she wouldn't. She wouldn't want to bring harm to the people that I care about. Hell, she worked herself into a tizzy just thinking she might insult Lara by her choice of dress last time we met, or worried she hadn't complimented Yvonne enough on raising Maddie so well. She loves Damon as much as everyone loves Damon, and Adri she—"

"— And you're willing to change all that. By running your mouth off so that you can sleep better at night. What good will it do her, Gideon? Answer me that."

It's a wonder that Andrew doesn't see it. But is it so surprising? A man whose personal relationships are decomposing at various rates all around him. "If she is going to be a part of my life, a part of this family, she has a right to know what she's signing up for."

"If you're thinking about jumping into another marriage—"

"I'm not," He cuts in hastily, an embarrassed flush spreading along the back of his neck. "Or well, I don't know. It's too early to thi-... But it isn't about that, it's about clearing the air and giving her full disclosure before things get that point. Not just blindsiding her. Why is that so difficult for you to understand?"

Andrew strolls over to the long, arched window and grabs the tieback holding the silk curtains off to one side. He releases it with a snap, nursing his tobacco all the while. The room falls into shadows. "And what about Lara?"

"What about her?"

The father turns back on his son, moving towards his desk again, keeping it between them. "You love her — some say to a fault." A smile cuts cruelly on his mouth. "Because you think she's so different than me. What's to spare her my fate if your journalist runs prattling to the first newsstand that she can find?"

If he were a better man, he would tell his father that Lara's fate is her own. That she's neither a prisoner nor a child anymore; blindly following in her father's footsteps. That if she cleaves to the mob, one day her fate will be sealed either way; by a court or by a criminal, and that in either case there will be violence.

He would tell his taunting father that even in such a case the responsibility would be neither his, nor Amélie's, nor even some stranger's — but her own.

... But he isn't a better man.

The house of cards shudders with that warning and the surgeons croaks out; "She won't! I know she won't." Resting his argument on a plea. He hates begging, hasn't begged anything from his father since he was a child; but Amélie, he knows, is worth his pride. "You gave Rodriguez a chance. I just wish you'd do the same for Amélie."

In mentioning Lara, Andrew seems to know he's hit a nerve. His posture relaxes, he takes another puff from the Cohiba Siglo. It's almost gleeful. "They aren't quite the same though, are they?... Félix Rodriguez brings us prestige, a foothold into politics. What does your French girl bring us, exactly? What makes her worth the risk?"

Gideon doesn't offer any response. Once again, it's clear how much his father has grossly underestimated a person if he believes that Yvonne's fiancé is the sort of lapdog to roll over for a treat. But he says nothing. It isn't his job anymore to warn Andrew Rutherford of the consequences that come with devaluing human beings.

"You're going to do it anyway." The older man observes, after a beat of silence passes between them. He pulls out the office chair and eases himself into it. He rests his cigar on its wooden holder and looks up at his son expectantly.

"Yes."

He can't tell if it's respect or contempt in his father's eyes. These days, they tend to look the same. He steps away from the desk, as if testing the bounds of his freedom. He rounds the chair, turns his back on Andrew Rutherford and makes it almost to the door when the older man calls out to him. "— Gideon."

He turns, guarded grey eyes finding inscrutable brown.

"Not everyone will understand us. Not everyone should try." The mob boss reaches for his decanter, removing the top and pouring some of the liquid into a glass with careful, precise movements. "If you lose her, remember that it was not my doing."

— End.

Mentioned: @amescastaignede, @lararutherford, @yvonne-rutherford, @amaroadriana, @damonrutherford

[unma]

Thoughts of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley?

idk why it took me so long to answer this, but I remembered that this was sitting in my inbox just now so I might as well. I'm going to assume you came here because you wanted to hear my actual thoughts on the game in good faith and not so you could find someone new to harass.

I like the game and really want to see what happens next. I love how dysfunctional both characters are, and it's fun to see awful people be put in awful situations and do awful things to survive. Especially when they're surrounded by equally awful people (and demons too I guess).

The hate over the game was stupid and was basically just people going "I can accept cannibalism, murder and demon summoning, but I draw the line at incest," which is frankly hilarious and one more reason I simply don't touch twitter anymore. Incidentally, you could probably dig through my posts and find an old one of mine where I opined that the game wasn't going down the incest route after chapter 1... That aged like milk, lol.

All in all, I wish the dev well. Nemlei didn't deserve being harassed off the internet, and I wish I could play the rest of their games. I actually had their itch.io page open at the time, so it was a shame to suddenly see it go blank. Oh well, that's on me for procrastinating so much.

I'd ramble on more about how I love the game's deep exploration of themes, and- actually, scrap that. I'm coming back in 5 minutes and I'll write my thoughts over both of the characters under the cut.

Ashley is pure evil. Is what I would say if I was someone who believed any person could be distilled down to those two words. No, she is very clearly a product of her downright terrible upbringing, and her downright obsessive love for Andrew is shown time and time again to be a product of her emotionally isolated childhood in which Andrew was the only one who ever gave her love. He was the only person who actually treated her like a person. Anyone with that kind of childhood is bound to end up at least a little maladjusted, so Ashley as a person is not unrealistic in the slightest. Her sabotage of Andrew is also rather clearly a method to ensure he will never leave her, even if he reassures her time and time again that he would never do so. Ironically, as her visions show, it may be her own obsessive actions that cause him to finally abandon her, which is just the most delicious flavour of ironic tragedy indeed.

Andrew is a coward. Through and through. I feel for him constantly, but he truly, truly, needs to learn to say no to Ashley. Or, well, he should've learnt to do that before she forced him into their current position. And yet, he's not malicious or actively evil. He's passively evil, in fact, though using the word 'evil' feels like hyperbole. He's consistently trying to never make a choice, and hoping he can simply pass on all responsibility to Ashley. And while I get where he's coming from, given everything they do and go through, he doesn't realize that not making a choice is still a choice, and he still did commit many of those deeds even if at Ashley's behest. At first, I wanted to pretend like he was completely innocent in the games, but it really doesn't take a genius to realize he's completely wrong about how responsibility works.

I'd say more, but it's been a while since I've watched Manly's playthrough of the games. My memory is rather fuzzy now. But feel free to ask more questions if you'd like.

[aalyre]

i think its brave to leave a cult. but I think it's even braver to stay to help a friend. it takes both tremendous loyalty and courage to do that.

I don't really see Neil being a coward at any point in the books tbh? Like I actually can't think of anything 😭 I know a lot of people cite him running from his father, but that was his mom's decision not his, when his mom is out of the picture he stops running basically instantly.

He goes to the Nest to protect Andrew knowing the consequences to himself. He says Andrew should go to rehab (forgot what the place was called) knowing it would mean he couldn't protect him while there. He willingly goes with his father's men so the others don't get hurt. Defends Kevin publicly on Kathy's show knowing it would draw attention to himself. etc, etc.

I also don't think reckless accurately describes Neil. If you wanna use definitions like you did before, because the definition is: "heedless of danger or the consequences of one's actions; rash or impetuous"

but we know Neil thinks through his actions. he always weighs the consequences in canon, acknowledges them, and decides to do the action anyway. by definition it doesn't fit.

also. not to be nitpicky cuz I don't mean it that way, but u got the wrong definition of brave. u got the one for the verb not the adjective, the adjective one is: "ready to face and endure danger or pain; showing courage"

which fits basically everything I listed of neil.

Hi! the definition i looked up was actually for the word coward, but thank you still!

and i agree with most of what you said, i personally don’t believe that neil is a coward, i actually think he’s very brave, which is why i used him as a comparison with kevin

i think for neil what i heard was mostly about him “running away." not about his father, but about what happens in the series until andrew tells him “this is the day you stop running” or smt like that

also i see what you mean but i feel like the definition you gave of reckless fits neil pretty well actually? (insulting riko and it leading to seth’s death, another thing he did i can’t remember and it leading to the ravens TRASHING fox towers, barging in the monsters’ room speaking in french -> giving this away for not much, going to evermore (danger for his own life), insulting riko when they won de final (again, danger on his own life)) like there are LOT of cases in which he thinks about his actions, mostly when it comes to keeping his identity secret ofc, but i wouldn’t say always at all

i feel like he WANTS to believe (hence making us believe(?)) that he always always thinks everything through (“fighting didn’t fit who he thought ‘Neil’ to be” or smt like that) but in the end he acts without caring about the consequences a bunch of times (not always at all i agree, maybe we could say that he isn’t reckless, but that he can definitely ACT reckless)

thank you for ur take!! wishing i a great day/evening/night!!

[tgmsunmontue]

Another Time (Chapter 10/14)

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE

Summary: Jake wakes up in Rooster's body ~30 hours post-Mission and they have to deal with it. They're adults. Apparently.

(Posting on Tumblr, chapter a day until it's complete (currently 14 chapters already written), after it's complete I will post it on AO3 once a day until it's completed there as well).

Odd chapter = Jake POV, Even chapter = Bradley POV

TEN

                He wakes up warm, his arm firmly tucked over a torso, and he hums under his breath. He’s still not in his own body. As he’d predicted last night, Nat had commandeered his guest room. Coyote had gotten a lift home from Bob, both promising to return tomorrow. Now today. It had left him with the sofa, the lumpy as fuck one-seater or the floor beside Hangman. He’d considered the option of sliding into the bed beside Hangman, but there’s a big difference between doing it when he’s awake and asking (and okay, a bit loopy because of the drugs), and doing it when he’s fast asleep. He’d wanted to though. Being rudely woken in the middle of the night and being offered, no, told, that got what he wanted, well, that’s something he could get used to.

                He stretches a little, nuzzles his nose into the nape of Hangman’s neck and just breathes for a moment.

                “Mornin’,” Hangman says, voice rough and Bradley misses his accent.

                “Morning…” He replies, hears the accent and it just isn’t the same.

                “So, what’s on the list?”

                “It ended up being quite a… quite a list,” Bradley states, because he’d read it over and felt uncomfortable just reading it, let alone discussing it. Although he knows they’re going to have to. He draws away from Hangman and reaches for the piece of paper and hands it to Hangman silently. Gets up and goes to the bathroom and comes back, sliding back under the blankets without being asked, Hangman having shifted to face him and looking at him isn’t going to make this any easier.

                “Vulnerability. Trust. Communication… this is like intense couples therapy before we’re even a proper couple,” Hangman says and Bradley laughs quietly, because he’s not wrong.

                “Yeah. This feels all backwards.”

                “Hmm. You think we would have managed to figure this out if we’d been doing it the traditional way?”

                “Well, I guess we’ll never know.”

                “Guess so. Backwards it is. Well, at least we can cross off proximity and touch… I mean, we’ve touched plenty,” Hangman states and his lips twitch in a smile and Bradley finds his eyes tracking the movement. Also noting that his moustache really needs a trim. Hmm.

                “And calling each other by our first names…”

                “You got a middle name?”

                “Uh, yeah. Peter.”

                “After Mav?” Hangman asks.

                “Yeah,” Bradley says on a sigh.

                “Hmm. Well, okay then Bradley Peter Bradshaw, my name is Jacob Andrew Seresin.”

                “Nice to meet you Jacob Andrew Seresin…”

                They both go silent, looking around hopefully for a brief second before they both break into huffs of laughter, shaking their heads.

                “God I wish it was that easy.”

                “Guess we can’t catch a break huh? Well, how about… biggest fear?”

                Bradley has to stop and think, because his immediate response is that he’s not afraid of anything. That’s a lie of course, but he can’t put it in words what it is he’s afraid of the most, feels like he’s lived through his worst fears coming true over and over to put a voice to them.

                “Least favorite food?” Hangman asks instead, obviously reading something in his silence or on his face.

                “Fruit.”

                “An entire food group? Really?”

                “Yeah. I’m really picky when it comes to fruit. My apples need to be crunchy, my bananas not too soft, pineapple still firm…”

                Hangman snorts.

                “Picky wee Rooster…”

                “No, I just know what I like.”

                “Do you just…”

                Bradley laughs, wants to shove him, kiss him, straddle him and –

                “Do you ever stop flirting?”

                “Nope. It’s all part of my charm darlin’.”

                “Part of something alright,” Bradley mutters and then Hangman is leaning forward, capturing his lips so soft and Bradley relaxes into it for the briefest of moments.

                “So, the whole physical intimacy. So polite of Bob. I want… it’s the last resort. I want to be in my own body when we do… more.”

                “More. Yeah… Although, if you jerk me off right now, would that count as you getting me off, or me getting off?”

                Bradley groans and pulls away with a laugh, shakes his head as he feels his neck and chest go warm with desire and embarrassment.

                “I have no idea… but I feel like we can put that down as a middle-step…”

                “All part of your plan of attack hmm?

                “Shut up. Like you have any better ideas.”

                “It’s just like another mission. We’ll figure it out. Break it down.”

                “Doubt this one can be fixed with a couple of well-aimed missiles.”

                “No. But I guess I can talk about myself for a bit…”

                “Your favorite subject right?” Bradley says, and he means it as a joke before he realizes that no, Hangman doesn’t talk about himself. He’s a cocky arrogant fighter pilot, confident in his abilities and more than willing to talk himself up… but that’s all surface. It’s not who he is. “Tell me.”

                “Hmm. Well. Vulnerable right?”

                Bradley’s stomach does an unpleasant flip. He’d hoped there wasn’t a tragic backstory or trauma but…

                “It’s not bad. I mean, my parents had me very late in life. My brother and sister are closer to Mav’s age than mine. Still, we’re all pretty close. I’m closer with my nieces and nephews… It’s just…”

                “You don’t have to…”

                “But I do, don’t I? What if it’s this that makes us switch back?”

                Bradley lets out a long breath, because he has a point.

                “We don’t have to do it all now though. Come on. We’ve got to get you ready for your hospital appointment and then we’ve got the debrief. We’ve also got something really important to take care of.”

                “What?”

                “I need to trim that moustache,” Bradley states and grins when Hangman laughs freely, some level of tension dripping away.

                “Do you not trust me?”

                “With my life? Yes. With my ‘stache? Not so much…”

                “Afraid I might shave the whole thing off?”

                “I think I could deal with that, it’s you trimming it crooked that would be world ending.”

                “Well okay honey, take care of me.”

ELEVEN