#I’ve added the ones i remembered or could find some proof in my history of watching. but I only got this laptop in July

[autopsytableromance]

Found my list of movies I’ve watched this year bc I moved phones so I’m trying to update it and I’m really glad I did (although I wish I had done it sooner so I don’t have to try to remember or like. Find references to every movie I watched between march and September) bc I don’t remember watching a lot of these movies.

[dduane]

Hi Diane! I’ve been a huge fan of your Star Trek work for years (and will now be investigating your original fiction I wasn’t previously aware of) and am absolutely thrilled to find you have an active blog.

I did a cursory search through your tags but didn’t see anything answering this so forgive me if you’ve already gone over this, but how do you go about publishing work that belongs to an already established franchise like Star Trek? Is it just through the publisher? Do you go to some branch of Paramount/CBS and get their approval for the story content? I’d love to know the process. I’m assuming with all the new Star Trek content these days, and CBS locking down on what’s “canon”, it’s probably more difficult to get a one off novel published using their IP anymore. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this (or be directed to a post where you’ve already explained).

Thank you for all your wonderful work!

You're very welcome! I hope you find my original work at least as enjoyable as the Trek.  :)

Re the business of working with an established franchise: yep, we've dealt with that here before, every now and then. But the tagging has been (admittedly) uneven. So let me just come at it again. :) (Always adding the note that this is how I did it, back in the day, and the methods or pathways of access may have changed.)

...So how did I get to be a published Star Trek novelist?

(adding a cut here, because this is a long one)

I am a first-generation Star Trek fan. I fell in love with ST:TOS* as soon as it premiered, and immediately started writing fanfic in that universe. (It should be mentioned here that—a couple/few decades before the days of widespread internet-connectedness—not only did I have no idea that other people were doing something very similar, but I had no idea it even had a name. I was writing all alone, in a vacuum, with no support whatsoever… but however accidentally, I’d discovered something invaluable: it made me happy. We’ll come back to this later.)

So. Time went by and I slid from that genre of fanfic-writing into writing fic that was much more Tolkienian in genre, and from there, into writing original fiction that Tolkien would have found, well, rather different. Cutting another longish story short, in 1978/9 I sold and had published my first novel, this one—the initial volume in the LGBTQ-and-poly-ish Tale of the Five / Middle Kingdoms series that would later get me nominated two years running for the Astounding Award for best new writer in the SF/fantasy field.

Now when something like this happens to you, it gets a lot easier to pitch new novels to people. I’m not just talking about the increased attention that awards and nominations bring you. But just having a traditionally-published book out tells other potential publishers that you’ve mastered at least some important aspects of the novelist business: (a) being able to conceive of a plot that will sustain a novel-length work, (b) being able to go from concept to starting in on a novel, © being able to finish a novel, and (d) being able to cope with the editorial process—handling suggested edits, dealing with a copyedited manuscript, dealing with proofs, etc etc.

As it happens, while I was dealing with the sequelae to publishing The Door Into Fire—meaning the inevitable question “And what are you going to do next?”—I'd also been doing some typing for an acquaintance who was typewriter-challenged. They were writing a Star Trek novel. And I have to say that what I was typing up for them was giving me hives. It was…not anything like what I thought a Star Trek novel should look like. I remember saying to a friend or two, on the quiet, “I could eat a ream of typing paper and barf a better Star Trek novel than this.” And finally one of them—almost certainly David Gerrold, who (God love him) has a history of daring me into doing things I want to do anyway—turned around and called my bluff and said, “All right, go on then, quit your kvetching and just go do it.”

Which left me staring at the problem with a lot more intent. Fine, you’re going to pitch a novel to Trek: what story are you going to tell? It’s not like you’re constrained by a TV budget here. Stretch out and tell the biggest Star Trek story you can find: one that can only be told, or best told, in this universe. (This being my working “prime criterion” for stories told in other people’s universes. For best effect the story should only be capable of being told within that set of characters and circumstances. The jewel must be cut to suit the setting, not—however counterintuitive it might seem—not the other way around.)

So I sat with that concept for a while, and eventually the right idea, or set of ideas, presented itself. I can vividly remember the moment. I was sitting on a bus bench near Victory and White Oak in the San Fernando Valley when the idea hit. It was a long time before cellphones, so I had to wait an hour or so to get home so I could call my agent and say “Don, guess what? I’m going to write a Star Trek novel!”

There was the briefest pause, after which he said, only half joking: “Do you have to?” Because both of us knew perfectly well that from Paramount’s point of view, Star Trek novels were merely another kind of merchandising, like plastic phasers and James T. Kirk action figures. (And strictly speaking, regardless of how we love them, they still are.) …But then Don said, “Okay, do an outline and we’ll see what they think.”

And so I wrote the outline, and my agent sent it along to the editor of the Trek books at Pocket—who was then Dave Hartwell (God rest him, a fabulous editor of any and all kinds of SF)—and Dave read it and liked it, and he sent it to Paramount for approval, and they read it and liked it, and gave Dave the go-ahead to buy it. And that turned into The Wounded Sky. (A nice overview is here. But I am also charmed to tell you that this book has its own entry at TV Tropes.) As a tied-for-second novel went—So You Want To Be A Wizard was written at very nearly the same time—it doesn’t seem to have done too badly.

Anyway, after that got written and turned in and published, the people at Pocket—somewhat to my surprise—said to me, “Okay, what have you got for us next?”  It was that simple… and I was that lucky. I liked working with them: they liked working with me: and they liked what I’d done enough to ask for more. (And...though I have no data on this... I strongly suspect the first book sold well.) So I was in for eight novels more, spread over a fair bit of time. And I have one more plot lying around that I should really get in touch with present editorial about and see if there’s any interest. You never can tell…

So that’s how I did it. Everybody else’s mileage will inevitably vary. But I don’t think there’s going to be much argument with the idea that before working with other IP-holders in their worlds, you might usefully first do as much work as possible in your own. That way potential publishing partners will have something to look at to help them get a sense of what your voice sounds like outside someone else’s world.

…Now as for working with someone else’s IP—anyone’s—this is how I manage it.

(a) Remember it’s theirs. They were there before you arrived and will doubtless be there long after you’re gone. They own that property, are likely enough to have worked hard on it in their time, and—whether they originated it or are just its buyers—are almost certainly powerfully protective of it. You can press against the edges of their envelope—quite hard, if you’re careful and have permission—but break through the fabric of their corporate reality without warning and you are going to be in deep trouble.

Do your homework. Know your licensor: know their history with other creators. Find out where there have been problems in the past and keep your eyes open for warning signs that you may be about to discover some new one. If you were lucky enough to be invited in, act like a considerate houseguest (creatively speaking). While working in that universe, don’t (for example) sneakily attempt to jettison parts of the property that annoy you, or covertly subvert bits that seem to call for subversion. (Overt subversion is a different story. Be in communication with your IP owner about this, and you may be able to win them over.  [Though you should be prepared for them to take credit for this after the fact.] But I have seen people disinvited from franchises with extreme prejudice after they were caught trying to pull one or another kind of “fast one” on their publisher.) If there’s a work-with-us guide or in-house bible, sleep with it under your pillow.

(b) Know your subject/universe. KNOW it. It is an absolute certainty that no matter how well you think you know it, there are fans out there who know it better than you do—massively, obsessively, eat-drink-and-sleep-ively better— and if you put a foot wrong, they will come for you. Leaving aside the issue of not wanting to be left looking like an idiot on the Internet, you ought in any case to be deeply cognizant of your host-world’s internal verities before you can expect to write it flexibly and well.

—And add (b1) to this: Know your characters’ voices. Not just the way they phrase things, but the way they think about things and (possibly more importantly) feel about things. It’s not you the readers will have come for. It’s them. You must channel the core characters at the very least authentically, and (ideally) affectionately, or it’ll all end in tears.

For the duration of this work, you are in service to them. Treat them courteously and give them your best words to speak; but always in their own voices. Don’t be afraid to let them be more real than you are. For a lot of people, unquestionably, they are. If that’s a problem for you, you shouldn’t be doing this kind of work. (At least not more than once.)

© Don’t do it for money. Don’t do it for fame. Do it for love or not at all. ...Let’s be realistic: any licensing IP is likely to (in the great scheme of things) be far better and more widely known than you are. You may acquire some positive press for your work with it, but in many people’s minds the positivity will have to do far more with the property than with you, regardless of your gifts or how much you love that universe, or whether or not you “came up through the fandom.”

As regards money, some licensed work will pay competitively with original work done in the same genre, but most will not. Not even being a Hot Name with a given IP will necessarily guarantee you any kind of serious money. (In particular, IP licensors have a historical tendency to pay lower-than-normally-accepted royalty rates, and in the past it has taken very energetic and insistent agents to break them of this habit, even if only temporarily and on a case-by-case basis.)

It therefore stands to reason that, for the sake of your own best functioning as a writer, you need to be doing work of this kind because you really need to do it (or to have done it) to make yourself happy: to scratch a creative itch, or to give something back to a property/universe that you love.

Now, “do it for love” can cover a lot of ground. You don’t have to be head over heels in luuuurrrrve with a property to write for it well. (In fact I suspect this state could hinder a writer’s ability to do their best work for an IP. You need at least a little separation from it so that you can realistically evaluate how what you’re producing is stacking up.) You can just be in really strong like with a given property. But you ought to be in at least some kind of like. A personal commitment to the stylistic, rational or emotional core of a given property will get you through the times of challenge that will inevitably surround your involvement with it far better than any unrealized hope of a big payday or of more widespread recognition of your own talents. 

Finally: This may sound heretical, but I don’t believe that licensed work is necessarily most fruitfully viewed as a natural stepping-stone to doing original work. (Or even to becoming a licensor yourself, though that does happen.) I think that, well and thoughtfully handled at both ends of things—the auctorial as well as the editorial—not-your-own-IP-work can be entirely worth doing wholly for its own sake. To write for the enjoyment of readers who’re using licensed work to scratch the same itch or feed the same passion that fanfic readers/writers know—of just wanting more good story in that universe? That’s entirely honorable employment, in my book. You’re an entertainer! Entertain, and fear nothing.

(And read your contracts closely.) :)

HTH!

(ETA: for the interested or curious, another post looking more at the issue of how IP-adjacent book editors pick the writers to work on them is over here.)

*Isn’t it wonderful to have to specify which kind of Star Trek you’re talking about? The times we live in...  :)

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE, MORE BLOOD Vol.13 Kino [Track 1]

Original title: ひとさじの悪戯

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, More Blood Vol. 13 Kino [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here (00:00 ~ 15:27)

Seiyuu: Tomoaki Maeno

Translator’s note: I remember when I started translating More, More Blood, it was the first set of drama CDs released after I joined the franchise, so it was a pretty important project to me. I would have liked to finish translations for all 13 CDs before Daylight dropped, but I didn’t quite succeed at doing that. It’s just Kino’s and then Kanato’s left though! Unfortunately I haven’t been able to get my hands on the audio for the latter. > < Kino is still somewhat of a mystery to me, but I do think the plot of these CDs fit him the best out of all of the boys since he’s such a trickster at heart. I’m sure he’ll have a blast tormenting the MC with the time-manipulating powers of the hourglass.

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 + Epilogue

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 1: A Spoonful of Mischief

The scene starts at school.

“Aaah, shut up, shut up. School really is such a noisy place, isn’t it? All of those pesky humans are completely absorbed in their conversations”

Kino turns his head towards you.

“Before I started attending this academy, were you like that as well? Chatting with your friends and laughing out loud like absolute fools.”

You explain.

“Hmー I see. You wouldn’t have guessed that by your current behavior. Both in the classroom and in the hallway, you’re always glued to my side. Do you actually have friends?”

You tell him you have friends over at your own classroom.

“Ah! Right! This isn’t the sophomore’s classroom you belong in, but my classroom. I guess it makes sense you wouldn’t have any upperclassman friends you can just have a casual chat with.”

You puff out your cheeks, blaming him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I forced you to come here. ...But I had no other choice, did I? Class or whatever, it’s all just boring crap when you’re not around. I got tired of living in the Demon World and became a high school student, so now I have to make the best of it and enjoy it to the fullest! Which means you need to be there sitting next to me.”

*Rustle*

“Besides, it isn’t all bad, is it? You’re super lucky to be able to take the senior’s classes! If anything, you should express your gratitude towards me.”

You seem worried about getting into trouble with the school. 

“Ah, you’re worried about that? It’s fine. Nobody will complain. I’m the infamous mysterious transfer student after all. Leaving the students aside for now, even the teachers seem to be having a hard time calling me out. I’ll use this opportunity to do as I please.”

You slowly nod.

“Exactly. So you should enjoy your school life as well.”

You ask if he is having fun. 

“Me? Hmm~? Let’s see...All of the extra attention I get as a scholarship student is a little annoying, but I’ve never gotten to attend school before, so I guess you could say I’m enjoying it in my own way. I suppose it was worth coming here as a transfer student. ...Besides, I kind of like this uniform as well. It just screams that I’m special! Pretty nice, huh? I didn’t like looking the same as everyone else, so I added my own little spin to it. What do you think? Does it look good?”

You tell him it looks good.

“...I see. Well, that’s a given.”

*Ding・dongー Ding・dongー*

“...Oh. Next period is starting. Better start getting everything ready.”

You giggle.

“Haah...? Hey, why did you laugh just now?”

You note that he is becoming more and more student-like.

“What? You’re making fun of me, aren’t you? Anyone would get the hang of the student life after going through a few classes.”

The teacher enters the classroom.

“...Say, don’t you think you’ve become a little cheeky as of late? You haven’t been holding back ever since we became lovers.”

You seem skeptical, raising a brow.

“No, you have. I might have been spoiling you a little too much as of late, so perhaps it’s time I give you a severe punishment. ...Fufufu~ Now how should I punish you? I’ll give it some thought! ...Ah, right! That made me remember...!”

You tilt your head to the side.

“You know, the thing you asked earlier. Whether school life is fun or not. There’s a perfect proof that I’m enjoying every day to the fullest.”

You frown.

“Right now it’s still a secret. More importantly, don’t you think you should focus on the class? ...See? The teacher has started writing stuff down on the blackboard.”

You turn around and open your textbook.

*Flip*

“He seems to be writing down a bunch of dull nonsense again. Class really is boring. Especially this history one. I guess this is the one subject I just can’t enjoy regardless. I have zero interest in what humans accomplished in the past after all. On these occasions...Guess it’s already my time to shine.”

He taps your shoulder.

“...Hey, hey!”

You turn your head.

“This class is boring, so you should play with me.”

You tell him you can’t right now.

“But I’m bored! ...So let me suck your blood. Show me how you desperately endure it while suppressing your voice. Like you did during yesterday’s lecture. I’d love to see that expression again.”

You turn around again.

*Scribble scribble*

“...Ah. The cold shoulder, huh? Hey! Just forget about the blackboard and turn my way.”

*Scribble scribble*

“Hmm~ You’re still ignoring me...In that case, I’ll just do as I please. Right! Perhaps I should just make your voice slip and catch everyone’s attention? That might be fun~”

You flinch.

“Fufu~ You looked my way. Honestly, that idea might be way more fun. I’m sure you’d become the talk of the school for doing such a thing during class. I don’t mind either way...Which do you prefer? I’ll let you choose today.”

You protest.

“...Haah!? Hey! Stop fighting back! Are you trying to ruin my daily fun?”

You perk up your head.

“Ah! You finally what realized what i meant earlier? Yes, exactly! This is the ultimate proof that I’ve been enjoying every day to the fullest. I’m sure you understand how I feel, no? There is nothing more fun than sucking your blood during class. Seeing you frantically try to hide it, or your panicked expression whenever our cover is nearly blown...It’s a blessing to the eyes. Your desperate attempts at listening to the teacher while having your blood sucked aren’t a bad watch either. It’s hilarious to see you try and keep your act together while you’re enduring it. This is something I wouldn’t be able to do if I wasn’t attending school.”

*Rustle*

“...So, you understand now, don’t you? I’m out here enjoying my school life, so don’t ruin that, okay? Got it?”

You frown.

“Don’t hesitate. Come on, this way...I’ll be so nice to suck from your arm today so it won’t stand out.”

*Thud*

“Hurry up. Give me your arm already.”

*Rustle*

“I love it when you’re obedient.”

*Rustle*

“Your veins are shining through, I can see them well. Your sweet blood is flowing underneath here, isn’t it? Looks delicious...”

*Smooch*

“Fufufu...I’ve gotten thirsty. If you don’t want the others to find out, then you better hold back with all you’ve got?”

Kino bites you.

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“...Haah~ Delicious. ...Ah, you’re actually enduring it~ ...Say, your face is quite the sight right now. Your cheeks are flushed bright red. I can clearly tell you’ve worked up a sweat too. Your sweat smells sweet as well. Hey, you’re only making me less likely to be able to stop, you know? Guess that’s fine. I don’t need to hold myself back after all. ...I’m sure you’re aware, but you can easily endure this much. That would be dull, don’t you think? I guess I have no other choice...but to force some screams out of you!”

He bites you again, stronger this time.

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“...Ah. Fufufu~ You finally let a shriek slip, didn’t you? ...Take a look around. Because of you, all the students in class have got their eyes on us.”

You look around.

“Ah-aaah~ I’m sure you won’t have it easy from tomorrow onwards. Everyone will talk about how you were doing suspicious things in class~ What will you do?”

You panic.

“...Say? You want me to do something about it?”

You ask if he can do that.

“Guess so. I might be able to fix this situation. I got my hands on a nifty little item yesterday.”

*Cling*

“This. Take a look.”

You raise a brow and ask if it is an hourglass.

“Correct. However, it isn’t just your average hourglass. When this red sand is flipped around and flows downwards, time turns back.”

You seem surprised.

“I guess just an explanation doesn’t do the trick, huh? Let’s put it to the test. ...Here I go!”

Kino turns the hourglass upside down.

*Tick tock - Tick tock - Tick tock - Tick tock*

ーーー

*Ding・dongー Ding・dongー*

“...Oh. Next period is starting. Better start getting everything ready. ーー Sike! Fufufu~ See? I turned back time to when class was starting.”

The teacher enters the room again, leaving you baffled.

“I’m not lying. ...I hate lies after all. Take a look at the blackboard. It’s still completely blank. ...See? The teacher’s going to start writing on it now.”

*Scribble scribble*

“The bell rang as well and above all...Nobody is paying attention to us. That proves time has been turned back and the same events are repeating itself.”

You seem confused.

“How, you ask? ...Fine, I’ll teach you. It’s strange how I got my hands on this, no?”

*Thud*

“I obtained this hourglass by pure coincidence during my last short trip to the Demon World. There’s magical energy stored inside, so it can rewind time a couple of hours. On top of that, the user has has full control over the memories of those affected. There’s several ways to enjoy it, don’t you think?”

You tell Kino you can’t comprehend. 

“Hm? You don’t understand? This time, I kept only our memories intact when I rewinded time. To further proof my point, you recall what happened earlier, don’t you? However! The other students don’t. ...Want to confirm it? Try and tell me what we were doing earlier.”

You get flustered.

“Don’t be so embarrassed. Come on, hurry.”

You admit to having your blood sucked. 

“Exactly. So, who was sucking blood from your arm?”

You reply.

“Mmh, mmh~ Right. It was me. And? How did I feed off you? And what kind of sounds did you make? I need to confirm these things, so be honest, okay?”

You hesitantly answer.

“Fufu~ Yes, good job. I’m proud of you for being able to tell me so accurately. Well, there you have it. No matter how much you embarrass yourself in public, as long as we have this hourglass to our disposal, we can manipulate time and people’s memories freely. In game terms, we can load up our preferred save file. What do you think? Bet you’re surprised?”

You nod. 

“Makes sense! ...I doubt these kind of things exist in the human world. ...I got my hand on such an interesting gadget so using this bad boy...I’ll make sure to play with you plenty today”

Your eyes widen in surprise.

“You’re blown off your feet! ...Well then, now how to use this~?”

*Cling*

“I guess I found yet another way to enjoy my school life? Fufufu...~!”

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[thisaccisdead]

montreal - roman hurt/comfort

pairing: this was written to all be platonic prinxiety, but can definitely be interpreted romantically !

warnings: unconventional self harm, non-graphic descriptions of wounds/injury

summary: a post-POF roman hurt/comfort fic in january 2021? yes <3

word count: 3.2k

notes: large portions of this were salvaged from one (1) night last summer at 4am when i was having a . time. the rest has been mainly recently written before i go to bed, with some extra bits added during my history classes B)) also shout out to [REDACTED]. u may not read this but if u do, i hope u know who u are & ilu

Virgil had been trying to calm himself down for the better part of an hour, as soon as they got back from the wedding fiasco; and he was doing a relatively okay job. Considering the circumstances, at least. Or so he thought, when he registered a spike in Thomas’s anxiety. This only served to make Virgil more anxious, because he had thought he had been doing well—until, he realized it wasn’t anxiety, not exactly, not fully—and it wasn’t coming from him.

Once he'd figured that out, it wasn't hard to trace the feeling to the imagination. He paused at the door. If this was where the strongest negative emotions were coming from, he already knew which side this was about. And could he really be surprised? Roman had wanted that callback for so long. Even at the court case, even when Roman gave Thomas his sentence, Virgil knew it killed him. And Virgil didn't do anything. Because he was so fucking scared of Thomas being bad, or of Janus winning, or something, and now whatever was going on was his fault, and--

And now was not the time for these thoughts. He breathed in. He opened the door.

Immediately, he was coughing out soot, heat burned his cheeks, his eyes blurred with protective tears forming against the smoke. It was hard to see, let alone process, what was happening. Then, he caught sight of the Dragon Witch. And he caught sight of—

“Roman!” Virgil choked on the yell, coughing again.

Obviously Roman couldn’t hear him from the distance, especially considering the brutal roar of the creature. Adrenaline kicked in, and as Virgil began to sprint towards the prince, he took in the entirety of the scene with alarm. Roman was...fighting, sure, except that Virgil had seen him fight before, and this... wasn’t right. Roman bested manticore-chimeras like it was a breeze, he HAD bested the Dragon Witch herself in every form she took, “just for training.” He always moved like he was in a ballet, not a battle, like it was more for show than challenge, and now...

Virgil watched Roman fall to a hard swish of the creature’s tail, and stay there. He almost expected the Dragon Witch to take mercy, or at least, to accept an early victory. But he watched her rear back, raise a taloned hand, the magma-red in her throat glowing brighter and brighter—just as Virgil got close enough to let fight win over flight.

Virgil crashed into Roman; they rolled just far enough that the swipe of claws only ripped the edge of Virgil’s jacket.

Immediate danger out of the way, Virgil clenched his eyes tight, trying to do it how Logan taught him. He found something that didn’t make sense--the grass. The grass was dry, therefore it should have been burning, but it wasn’t. He took that foothold to dispel all the fantastical elements of the scene, Dragon Witch and all her carnage blinking from existence. The new calm of the scene was jarring.

That just left a great big field, Virgil, and one absolute dumbass.

"What the fuck, Princey?!"

Virgil’s voice was distorted with stress, and Roman stared up at him wide-eyed, unsure—even terrified in a way that hurt. Virgil quickly pushed himself up so he wasn't pinning the other. Roman tried to copy this movement, only to groan, start coughing, and fall back again.

“Shit, I—“ Virgil looked at his hands and found red on them, looked at Roman and saw the color painting his chest. “I thought I dispelled all the imaginary stuff, why—?“

“Left brain sides can only dispel so much of what right brain sides feel,” Roman said, voice rough and thin and upsettingly casual, “Since they feel so real to me, you can’t get rid of them.”

“They feel…? Christ, ok, you need a medical kit, uhm—“ Virgil closed his eyes again; he was notoriously shitty at summoning things, and he had to concentrate for this—

“That’s ok; I’ve got it,” Roman said, letting out a quiet hiss as he propped himself up on one arm, and summoned the medical kit with the other, “You can go now.”

Virgil gaped at him in disbelief. When Roman attempted to stand up, and Virgil could no longer deny he wasn’t joking, he exclaimed, “Like Hell am I going, idiot!”

Roman just stared at him, and Virgil cursed under his breath. “Ok ok, let’s just... we should do this in the bathroom, uhm—“

Virgil awkwardly clambered over to Roman again, taking his hand, so he could blink them over together. He knew it would probably be more comfortable for Roman to sink in and out, but considering Virgil wasn’t practiced at that, he wasn’t going to risk screwing it up.

They apparated into the bathtub, and Virgil scrambled up, taking the med kit from Roman's hands.

Ok, ok, now Virgil just had to remember that one time Logan lectured them all on “Side Safety.” He took a shaky breath and washed his hands quickly, before turning back to Roman. He allowed himself to fully assess the prince this time and… Jesus. He was slumped against the back of the tub, having given up his attempts at composure while he thought Virgil wasn’t looking. His litany of scrapes, cuts, bruising, his shallow breathing, and--most of all--the wet, red patch slowly growing on his shirt, sparked renewed panic in Virgil.

“Ok, fuck, ok--let’s do this,” Virgil said, mostly to himself, as he knelt down by Roman to undo his already tattered shirt and take a wet towel to his chest. He had to suck in a breath at the sight of the jagged wound, a nauseous feeling catching up to him.

“You’ve already done a lot, you know,” Roman insisted. “You can--”

“If you tell me to go, Princey, I swear I’ll make these wounds worse myself,” he said, not meaning it in the slightest, which he would assume Roman knew--but the way Roman flinched and shut his mouth told a different story. “Shit, I didn’t mean that. Of course I didn’t mean that!”

Roman glanced away, and Virgil reached to cup his cheek, an instinct he didn’t know he had. Luckily, he caught himself in time to retract his hand. They both avoided eye contact for a second; Virgil cleared his throat; and he reached for the bottle of hydrogen peroxide before pausing. He vaguely recalled Logan mentioning how strong alcohols would only cause more harm, and they should just stick to mild soap instead. He gave the cut a longer look-over—it was certainly not a pretty sight, but probably not as bad as it looked. It was large, but not too deep. Plus, as sides, it would heal itself without needing anything like stitches or professional medical work. The past scars littering Roman’s body were proof of that. Actually--had he always had this many scars? Virgil squinted. How often did he do this?

Virgil finished cleansing and bandaging the wound to the best of his ability, with little talk beyond the occasional, soft “sorry” at Roman’s winces. When he had finished, he gave Roman his hoodie (an action the Prince was too tired to take much notice of), since summoning a new shirt seemed like a waste of whatever energy he had left.

“Ok, Princey, all done. Uhm, are you—how, how are you?” Virgil mentally kicked himself.

A small, bitter smile tugged at Roman’s lips for just a moment. He opened his mouth and then closed it, and finally shrugged. “Thank you for your help.”

It hurt, Virgil realized. Roman’s quiet voice, where near-shouting was his usual speech. His unkempt hair sticking to his forehead, where it was usually styled to be very lightly and intentionally ruffled. The bags beneath his eyes where there was usually concealer. All of it hurt.

Virgil sucked in a breath. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m being annoying, but I hope you know there’s absolutely no way I’m leaving yet.”

“Virgil,” Roman almost said it as a whine, which was closer to his usual style, so Virgil considered it progress.

“Roman,” Virgil deadpanned back.

Roman huffed. “Maybe I need space to really explore my feelings, and you’re actually being a terrible friend right now,” he argued.

“Uh-huh, well being a terrible friend is always my favorite, so,” Virgil leaned down, fumbling slightly as he picked Roman up bridal style, “We’re gonna get you to bed, and you can explore your feelings by sleeping.”

“Great, now you’re damsel-in-distressing me,” Roman said sarcastically, but he leaned his head into Virgil’s chest as he did so, which kind of ruined his point.

“Yeah, yeah. Act more like Megara next time, and maybe it’ll be different.”

•••

Roman groaned upon waking up. His whole body ached, but mainly it was focused around a sharper pain in his chest. He let his eyes flutter open, only to find Virgil staring at him from his desk.

“Ah,” Roman uttered, a jumble of memories from the past few hours returning. They felt foggy and mildly icky, but mainly the pain in them was the numb kind of pain, the tired kind. Really, it was indistinguishable from the dull ache of his bruises and cuts.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, as though he understood, even though he couldn’t possibly. “Uh, wanna talk about it?”

It was clear Virgil felt awkward asking the question. It was unclear whether that was due to his tendency to be embarrassed by everything he said, or—far more likely—that he wanted to stop babying a stupid prince, and just go about his business.

Roman sat up, suppressing a wince as best he could. “Do you want to hear about it?”

“Of course I do.” Virgil said it without an ounce of hesitation. Roman’s breath caught.

“Oh.” Roman shifted slightly over, and Virgil took a seat by him on the bed. “Okay. Uhm. I don’t know, I just—I messed up.” What else was new?

“...What did you mess up?” Virgil asked, with an inkling of suspicion, like he knew what this was about. But it wasn’t that; it wasn’t the callback—that was over and done and dead. Roman had created so many fantasies, so many crazy scenarios where they could somehow still make it in that stupid movie, and it had always filled him with hope or crushing pain or something, but as of this afternoon? He didn’t even care. It didn’t matter.

So, Roman ignored the question, and instead commented, “Janus got accepted.”

“What the fuck.”

Roman observed Virgil’s stricken expression like an unsettling kind of mirror of himself when—

My name is Janus.

“Yeah,” Roman sighed, “I didn’t take it so well either.”

Virgil looked at him for a long moment, seeming to go through several series of emotions, before he was able to ask, “...What happened?”

Roman inhaled sharply. “I was wrong about being wrong about the wedding. Patton was also wrong; Janus was right, and then Patton was right because he wasn’t a total asshole to Janus, and I’m evil; Thomas hates me; whatever, you get it.”

He thought he would break down, saying it, but he felt oddly… fine. He sat, staring at the same spot as he was before, absentmindedly annoyed at the way his bandages itched. The normalcy of the situation almost made it worse. This sucked. This wasn’t even bad.This was the worst he had ever felt.

“Oook,” Virgil said, clearly not knowing where to start, “I—you—what do you mean: Thomas hates you?”

“Thought that one was self-explanatory.”

“He can’t hate you,” Virgil said with a laughable amount of conviction. “You’re still his… y’know.. goals. Desires. Hopes. Whatever. Just because this one didn’t go… perfectly, doesn’t mean you won’t keep—“ he struggled to find the phrasing for a moment— “...fighting, uh, valiantly for Thomas’s dreams!” he attempted at the encouragement with a weak smile.

Roman just shook his head. “No. I don’t know what he wants.”

Virgil’s smile dropped into confusion. “But… you are his wants.”

“That’s kind of the problem.”

Virgil seemed at a loss, and Roman felt like an asshole. Here he was trying to help him, and Roman couldn’t even be bothered to put on a smile to dismiss him from the duty.

“Please go,” Roman attempted weakly when he couldn’t find a more convincing argument in himself. He was meant to be an actor, but he knew he couldn’t hide the fact that he wanted him to stay, of course he did, so badly. He hoped Virgil would just quit with the chivalry and go despite that.

Virgil sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shit, I'm going about this all wrong.”

Roman knew it probably wasn’t really him Virgil was mad at, but it was hard not to shrink away anyway.

“Look, Roman—“ Virgil turned to him, looked at him seriously, took his hands in his— “To be honest? I don’t care what happened. I don’t care who was right or wrong—I mean, we all know I’ve been in the wrong more than my fair share. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Roman didn’t miss the ambiguity of the end statement. “But… look, you don’t get it. When you mess up, you’re still you. You’re still...,” Roman gestured vaguely, which upset his bandages, and when he looked down at himself, he took note of the black/purple hoodie he was wearing. He melted slightly. This was exactly the point he was trying to make, “You’re still... y’know. Important.”

“Wh—? Of course you’re important, Ro. You’re creativity—“

“Thomas has two of those.”

Virgil looked at him like he was stupid. “Right, as if you’re anything like Remus.”

Roman’s lip quivered at that, and he had to look away, which was so stupid. And suddenly he felt all of the embarrassment at once—of this situation, of everything that had happened before, of the way he was about to cry, in front of Virgil, after he said that, which must look so—

“Roman?”

A hand was on his cheek, softly turning his face towards Virgil’s, though Roman still refused to meet his eyes.

Virgil cursed to himself under his breath. “Shit, this is exactly what I was trying not to say.” He sighed, and Roman hesitantly looked up at him. “Look. Even if you weren’t creativity, if you weren’t hopes or dreams or any of it—if you were a completely pointless side, which you aren’t, but if you were—I wouldn’t care. What I care about is that you’re... Roman. That you bother me until I sing Disney with you, that when you put your heart into something, you do it to a stupid amount, that you make Thomas take trashy buzzfeed soulmate quizzes when he’s stressed, and that you fucking try so hard for everything, even when I’m being a little bitch about it,” he paused. With the hand on Roman’s cheek, he traced the line of a scar down his jaw. It was one of the ones Roman usually made sure to put an illusion over, he noted offhandedly. “I care, because you’re my best friend.”

“Don’t say that,” Roman choked out. He couldn’t handle it if it was a lie, and part of him couldn’t manage hearing it as anything but exactly that. “Just—just—“

“Oh, Princey..”

Virgil held him as he broke. Roman didn’t know how long they sat like that as he let everything wash over him for a final time, let it all truly sink in at long last. He took heaving, messy sobs, no doubt ruining Virgil’s shirt in the process—he was quiet, though. He shook silently, save a couple choked breaths, in the other’s arms--that was a habit he had taught himself long ago.

When Roman had tired himself out, when all that was left was the pain in chest, (which was also suddenly duller—he was healing fast, even for a side—) he pulled back from the embrace. Virgil didn’t move by much, kept them so their fingers were laced together, as they sat staring at each other.

“Uhm. Thanks,” Roman gave a shaky smile, “You really—uh... I... I said some stupid stuff, huh?”

Virgil hesitated before he spoke, as if he knew he shouldn’t ask this right now, but needed to anyway. “...Roman, why’d you go to the Imagination?”

Roman felt ice stab at his chest upon the question. He didn’t want to do this. They had already talked about so much that he shouldn’t have gotten into; this was meant to be the part where they either parted or watched a stupid movie. And this, out of everything, was the conversation he most needed to avoid.

“Uh—I mean, to let off steam?” Roman gave a laugh as best he could. “Obviously, it didn’t go to plan—“

“Didn’t it?”

Roman’s face fell immediately. He struggled to come up with an answer, and even if he had had one, he didn’t think the sound would come out. This was enough of an answer in itself

“Shit,” Virgil breathed. Roman couldn’t help but be mildly annoyed by his surprise—clearly he had already known, he didn’t have to make it a big deal now.

“I… Princey—Roman…” Virgil looked him up and down, and Roman wanted to curl up and hide. “...how many times?”

“Not many,” Roman mumbled. Virgil must have known he was pushing the subject too far, because he just frowned and said,

“OK. I mean...it’s not OK, obviously, but you already know that, I just—“ he sighed. “Just… can you talk to me? Instead? Please? When you feel like… that.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Roman responded hastily, wanting an out from this topic.

Virgil gave him a look. “I’m serious. I mean—look, you don’t even have to talk about it if you don’t want. Just, come to me first, yeah?”

Roman’s face burned; he was embarrassed; he wanted to shrug this whole thing off, or roll his eyes, or maybe scream in annoyance. But the rational part of him knew Virgil was right. “OK,” he agreed softly, “...Thanks. For everything.”

Virgil looked surprised, and then flustered, and then waved off the earnest reply. “I mean, it wasn’t--I didn’t--it’s not like I did anything really--”

“You did.”

Virgil’s face softened. “Yeah, well... you’d’ve done the same for me. You... have done the same for me.”

Roman smiled gently at him. “By the way, Virge--” He hesitated. He was about to sound like a real dumbass if Virgil had only been saying this stuff for comfort’s sake. But making a fool of himself was becoming a theme for him anyway, so he continued, “You’re my best friend too.”

I love you.

In the same beats Roman thought it, Virgil squeezed his hand lightly 3 times. A breath passed between them. An understanding. That Roman couldn’t say it out loud, and Virgil wouldn’t.

Instead, Virgil fell back across the bed, bringing Roman with him in the motion. Roman let out a startled gasp and elbowed him lightly. “Hey! I’m injured, that could have been a fatal impact for me!” he whined.

Virgil snorted. “Yeah, yeah, OK. So, do you wanna watch a stupid movie, or what?”

[cosmicpines]

code july day 1 - future

au where jeremie's anti-xana program didn't work, taking place half a year after.

“Do’ya think we should start future-proofing our whole situation?” Odd was the first one to speak out loud in at least a half an hour, his voice echoing around the computer lab.

It was late. Not just “it’s a school night, we should turn off the Playstation” late, but “sunrise is in an hour” late. Ulrich, Jeremie, and Aelita were crowded on the couch – a fairly new addition to the lab that William and Odd had dragged over a mile to the factory after finding it on the street, a several-hour long affair that left them both sore for a week – blearily staring at chunky school-loaned laptop screens with piles of overdue library books on the floor in front of them. Odd and William were across the room, hunched over an oversized posterboard, surrounded by an accoutrement of Odd’s art supplies and printed out sheets of paper. What was keeping them up was potentially world-ending, but not in the usual way; instead of an evil AI, it was a history project due at 10 AM.

It wasn’t entirely their fault they didn’t start earlier – saving the world was a full-time job, afterall – but it’s not like they could give an excuse to Mr. Fumet that he would have believed. As the clock ticked over to 4, the prospect of having to pull the trigger on a return trip to finish loomed over them. They had already done it once, blearily uploading PowerPoint slides to the supercomputer to save them, giving Yumi an apologetic phone call in the morning. She was used to the disorienting resets at this point, having done them for half a year after graduating and moving across the country, but they usually texted ahead of time to warn her. She was sympathetic over the phone – she always was – but she was definitely irritated about having to retake an exam. They didn’t want to put her through that again and, besides, they couldn’t exactly keep the poster board from getting erased to time.

“Future-proofing the fact half of us might fail history?” Ulrich grumbled in response from across the room, leaning against the armrest of the couch. His eyes were glazed over in a stupor as he clicked idly around on the screen.

“Ulrich, are you done with your slides yet?” Aelita spat at him, now that the silent spell was broken, “I want to start stitching them together.”

“Uh… no.” Ulrich glanced at her, subtly turning his screen away from her piercing gaze, “Gimme ten more minutes? I’m almost there.”

Aelita clicked her tongue, probably remembering the last promise of the slides “in ten minutes.” She turned to her left and nudged Jeremie, “How about you – oh my god, Jeremie, can you focus?”

“Huh?” He looked up, and guiltly alt-tabbed back to a blank PowerPoint slide. “Sorry, I was just… I had a breakthrough about the bug in the Skid and I was…” He trailed off under her glare, “Sorry.”

Aelita clutched the side of her head, groaning. “Is it too late to go back to living on Lyoko where I don’t have to care about World War I and don’t need sleep?”

“Me too, thanks.” William muttered at Odd’s side, aggressively erasing a sentence on the poster, “Being XANA’s slave was less painful than this.”

He let out a bitter laugh, then raised his head, half smirk fading at the frozen-in-terror looks on his friend’s faces, “Sorry. Too soon?”

Odd, as he so often did, interrupted the awkward silence before people could make it worse, “Future-proofing us, is what I meant. Thanks for asking!” Nobody humored him as the typing across the room started back up and William started writing again, “Look, I’m just saying; we’re not getting any younger.” He brandished a red marker, filling in bubble letters on the top of the poster, “Yumi graduated. We’ve only got a semester left at Kadic –,”

“Could just all repeat a year like I did.” William grimaced. “And might again.”

Ulrich snorted, “Odd and I are probably on track for that.”

“Cheers,” William said, raising his pencil like a glass, without looking up, “Join the failure club.”

“BUT,” Odd interrupted, “Assuming we don’t! Because this presentation is going to be incredible,” That one earned a snort from everyone in the room (which was fair), “We’ll need someone who can do our jobs if we have to leave the good fight. Lyoko Warriors, the Next Generation! Kadic’s Next Top Lyoko Warriors!” He chuckled at himself, standing up, “We should put an ad in the paper: ‘Want a challenging, world-altering job? Come down to the abandoned factory!’” He hummed to himself, tapping his chin, “Our criteria would have to be strict. Can you imagine getting someone like, I dunno, Johnny? So, Johnny. Please, tell me: what’s your greatest fear? Giant crabs, you say? Why yes, that’s both oddly specific and also a dealbreaker. Next!”

Odd looked up, laughing, waiting for his friends to join in – Ulrich telling him he was being dumb, Aelita offering some other students and joking with him about their interviews, William making a snide remark about how he didn’t get an interview, a silent, but appreciative smirk from Jeremie – but got nothing. Jeremie’s head was buried in his laptop, and Aelita was – Aelita was glaring at him?

“What?” He asked her, but she said nothing, just raised an eyebrow in a you know what’s wrong look. Odd clearly didn’t, and turned to Ulrich for a clue, but Ulrich wasn’t giving him anything; he was just back to sulking, staring at his laptop. Odd ran through what he said again in his head, trying to find the offending phrase, when William punched him in the leg. “Hey –,” Odd started, ready to give a snappy retort, before seeing William was urgently tapping at the poster, where he’d just written something. Odd crouched down to read it.

you’re upsetting jeremie.

Odd glanced back at Einstein across the room, whose face was impassive, just typing away. Looking closer, though, he could see Jeremie had all the appearances of someone trying valiantly to pretend they weren’t upset – hunched shoulders, scrunched up face, not a single glance away from the screen. Aelita had stopped glaring to put a hand on Jeremie’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off.

Ugh. Odd sighed, wondering if he would have to apologize for just trying to lighten the mood. How was anything he said upsetting to Jeremie? He reached over for a pencil to respond to William, scribbling down on the poster.

Can’t he take a joke?

idk. Guess he thinks you’re blaming him.

Blaming him?? For what???? bro when did I even say anything like that??

you didn’t. don’t bro me bro. not my fault

Odd underlined his first bro, giving William a smile. William rolled his eyes before rubbing out their conversation with an eraser. Odd turned back to his coloring job and took a breath, surprised to see it come in shaky. It’s not your fault he’s upset, he thought to himself, pulling the cap off his marker. It’s fine. He leaned over to finish his coloring before noticing his hands were shaking. He clenched them, angrily. It wasn’t his fault Jeremie was upset. He was fine. Not his fault if Jeremie wanted to over-react. He’ll get over it and… where were the scissors?

He dug around their supplies for them, then, picking up a pile of pictures of historic figures, streaked from the bad library printer, took a pair of trembling scissors to extracting them. They were nearly done. One more section and they’d be done. One more and they could go to bed and Jeremie would get over whatever he was upset about and it was fine and it would all go away and it was fine it wasn’t his fault and –

“I’m working as hard as I can,” Odd felt a bit in his stomach open up as Jeremie spoke in a quiet, bitter voice. Odd stared pointedly down at the poster, blinking rapidly to try and assuage the pressure building behind his eyes, “I know we screwed up by not finishing before Yumi graduated, okay? I’m just… It’s a lot to figure out and I’m trying?! Is that not enough for – No. No, I know it’s not enough – I know I’m keeping us from having a normal life and it’s my fault William had to repeat a year and… and I –,” Jeremie’s breath caught, and Odd finally dared to turn his eyes to him, seeing his friend aggressively rubbing his eyes under his glasses, “I – I don’t mean to – look! It’s hard, alright?! It’s hard and I – I’m just so tired all the time and I’m sorry that we’re still awake for this too and that I –,” His voice finally broke as he started crying in earnest, his fist coming down on the side of the couch. Odd wanted to turn back to his work and brush it off, but the guilt clenching his stomach wasn’t letting go.

Hesitantly, Aelita put her hand on his shoulder again, “Jeremie…” but he shook it off again, turning away from her. She persisted. “It’s not your fault. We know you’re working –,”

“And it’s not enough! I’ve been working at this for years and I just I can’t come up with anything to defeat XANA –,”

“You had a lot of other things you needed to do first.”

He didn’t mean to, Odd was sure, but Ulrich’s eyes flickered to William for just a moment, and William’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh, are we doing this now?” William grumbled, dropping his pencil. “Jeremie, you’re fine. Look, I’m sorry. Again. You don’t think I don’t regret every moment that I didn’t listen like a fucking idiot –” Jeremie, despite being wracked with tears, winced at the swear, earning a brief hint of a smile from Odd, “ – and got myself captured? Who then was a thorn in your asses for months? No. I get it. You’d probably be rid of XANA already if it wasn’t for me; you’ve made that crystal clear.”

“That’s not what I –,” Aelita glared at him, “You of all people should understand that I would never blame you for being trapped on Lyoko.”

“It’s not you that is. It’s him.” He jerked his thumb at Ulrich, who glared back at him.

“I’m not,” Ulrich muttered, “Cut it out.”

“Oh yeah? What did that look mean then, huh?”

“I didn’t –,”

“You blame me, and we all know it. You’re just butt-hurt over Yumi still, even though you had plenty of chances –,”

“Okay, that’s it.” Ulrich sat up straighter, “Maybe you’re still using Yumi as a scapegoat in all our arguments, but I’m done with that. Maybe I was an ass to you before because of her, but I don’t blame you for XANA, William. I never have. I was over it before you even joined,” He scowled at the ground, Jeremie’s crying filling the brief silence. “It was probably my fault you got captured in the first place. I wasn’t there because I had to talk to my stupid Dad and it was my job to tell Odd and I didn’t make sure – hell, even before that! Who was it that couldn’t protect Aelita back when XANA escaped from the supercomputer in the first place? If she hadn’t been alone, the Scyphozoa wouldn’t have gotten her, and XANA wouldn’t have escaped, and we would have been done.”

“Come on,” Aelita crossed her arms, turning away from Jeremie to the boy on her other side, “You’re being ridiculous. Half of that isn’t your fault.”

Odd wanted to chime in that it was Sam’s fault she didn’t listen to Ulrich, but his voice was still missing in action, his throat tight and unresponsive.

“I should have been able to protect myself,” Aelita continued, “It wasn’t your responsibility –,”

Jeremie laughed suddenly, hurt and bitter, “Protect yourself how? You couldn’t protect yourself because I was dragging my feet on giving you a proper weapon –,”

“We’ve talked about this!” She said, “We agreed it was more worth your time to work on an antivirus!”

“For a virus that didn’t exist! If I had just double checked –,”

“Double checked what? The faulty data you were being fed? There was nothing you could have done! If you want to blame anyone, blame me. Maybe it – maybe helping me made sense at first, when things were able to be stopped at a moment’s notice. But then even when you got me to Earth it wasn’t over, and things got worse, things got more dangerous – when we realized XANA could escape? That we couldn’t just turn it off with a switch? That – that should have been it.” Her voice dropped as she took a shaky breath, “You should have just let me turn the supercomputer off.”

“You were ALWAYS worth the risk, Aelita!” Odd finally snapped, terror shooting through his heart at the broken look on her face, the implications of her words, “You… you matter to us more than anything! Look, I’m sorry for bringing this all up, alright? I thought we could just joke around about running Lyoko Warrior interviews! I didn’t mean to get everyone upset. And speaking of! Jeez! All of you are such downers on yourselves! There’s like, a billion different things that could have happened!” He held out a hand, ticking them off, “Maybe William might not have gotten captured and instead XANA got Yumi or anyone else! Maybe, I dunno, Ulrich saved Aelita temporarily but then XANA tossed him in the digital sea! Maybe Jeremie could have noticed that Aelita didn’t have a virus sooner, and XANA just made a move sooner! Maybe – maybe – maybe if you had just let Kiwi be virtualized normally and not fuse with me he would have been a great Lyoko Warrior and would have bit the Scyphozoa and killed XANA! We don’t know, alright? I’m just trying to say that – ugh, forget it! Sorry! Jeez!”

Odd rubbed at his eyes, surrendering to the frustrated and exhausted stream of tears that leaked out of them. All of them, all of this – he kept trying to play superhero, to pretend that everything was going to be alright like in the movies, but in his heart he had to admit that this was starting to feel futile. Aelita’s virus, XANA’s escape from the supercomputer, William’s capture, Jeremie’s first botched attempt at his anti-XANA program, Franz Hopper’s sacrifice, Yumi’s graduation, their failure to stop space station from falling, Jeremie’s second anti-XANA program getting stolen by the AI, and now the looming threat of their own graduation… he wanted to be joking about needing to interview new Lyoko Warriors, really, but if graduation took them away from the factory… away from each other…

A hand landed on his shoulder, he realized he didn’t need to know who it was to press his own on top of it, to squeeze it and feel loved, as more hands, more friends, found their way to his other shoulder, to his back.

“I’m sorry, Jeremie,” he said, “And everyone else. I didn’t mean to –,”

“Don’t,” came a muttered reply from Jeremie, “We’re all acting tired and stupid. I shouldn’t have yelled. I knew you didn’t mean it.”

Odd let out an exhausted laugh, rubbing his eyes of the last of the tears, looking up and seeing his friends around him, “How late is it?”

“Too late,” Ulrich replied, pulling his phone out of his pocket, “We’ve got… three hours until classes start.”

A collective groan broke the spell over the room. Odd looked under his feet to the almost-finished-poster. Silently, all of them returned to their working positions. Odd kneeled down to finish gluing down the last of the faces to the poster. As the lull of busy work started taking over his mind, William nudged him.

“Sorry, I, uh…” William looked uncharacteristically bewildered, “This must have happened while I was – did you say Kiwi fused with you?”

[weasleydream]

i’ll never fall - Ginny x reader

I’m so so sorry that it’s so late! I wrote this for @pregnant-piggy​ ‘s writing challenge but I got a bit too inspired, I haven’t written that much in so long! Once again, congrats for 2k love <3 

My prompts were: “Who do you see when you look at me?” ; “I will never forgive myself for the things I’ve done.” ; and “And you are sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re in love with them?” 

Also, once again I think I messed with timeline 

As usual, feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

Masterlist 

If we were being picky, we could say that all of this began the day Tom Riddle was born. However, this specific point in the history of the wizarding world was the beginning of so many stories that no one could count them all, and mine was complicated enough without mixing them: that’s why we’re going to say that it all began the day I realized I had been manipulated. 

_ _ _ 

It was as if nature itself knew what was coming. If the first of September was usually a bright day, the sun we had been hoping for was a long lost memory erased by the incessant rain. Somehow, even the traditional babblings on platform 9¾ were missing, replaced by parents’ doubts and students’ fears. Was really going to Hogwarts in this year of 1997 a good idea? Dumbledore’s death had been a strong hit to everyone, and now that we knew Snape would be at the head of the school, no one was reassured. Not even Molly Weasley who was usually so valiant. On the platform, with one hand on Ginny’s back and one hand on mine, she seemed as nervous as everyone else, and the fact that she couldn’t look away from Arthur for more than three seconds was the proof we didn’t need. 

I remembered perfectly each first of September since I had received my Hogwarts letter. It was five years ago, and I was sure the view of the red train had never provoked such a wave of panic in me before. I glanced at Ginny; she was looking at me, her face closed in an attempt to hide what she was feeling and what she was fearing. A discreet nod confirmed what I already knew: she was as afraid as I was. Somewhere on our left, a voice said both our names, and we turned around to greet Neville. He hadn’t even needed to use a strong voice. He was pushing his cart on which his bags were stacked. On the top of the pile was sitting proudly a little plant. 

“Mimbulus mimbletonia?” I asked, and he nodded quietly. 

The locomotive whistled and we headed to the nearest door, after having looked away from Ginny and her parents exchanging a quick hug. Most of the compartments were empty, which seemed strange as we had never seen such a small amount of students in the train. Neville led us to the very last compartment where Luna was waiting for us. She said hello, but even her bright personality seemed altered. I really didn’t like this, and it was only the beginning. 

Half an hour after the beginning of the journey, I left the compartment to find my other group of friends. Friends was maybe a big word: in fact the only one I got along pretty well with was Zillah. She was a Hufflepuff and I knew her since we were five or six. Our fathers had worked together for a while in a muggle factory when they were younger, hers because he was a muggle and mine because he and my mother had left the wizarding world when He-who-must-not-be-named had risen the first time. Zillah greeted me with a small smile, and one or two other heads looked up to me. I identified a Slytherin guy in the corner opposite to mine but that didn’t surprise me, Zillah was the kind of person that didn’t let such things as houses determine who she loved. 

“You didn’t give me a lot of news,” she said when I sat next to her, which forced another girl to shift to the left. 

“I know, I just… I was busy.” I looked around quickly, checking that no one was listening to us. The four other persons that were here seemed to be chatting, and only now did I realize that the atmosphere was less heavy than with Ginny, Neville and Luna. Anyways, I decided it was safe enough for me to speak. “You know, with that stuff about my parents…” I added in a lower tone. 

Zillah moved closer to me. 

“And? Did you find anything?” 

“Nothing conclusive. I guess that’s a good sign.” 

Zillah nodded and recovered her previous position. She knew what I was talking about: since a few weeks before the beginning of the summer, my main preoccupation was to find out if my parents - and the rest of my family - were or had been death eaters. A lot of old rumours had resurfaced, and my parents, along with one of my aunts and her half-brother, were suspected to belong to the dark side. I had spent the summer looking for proof, investigating, and I now thought that at least my mother wasn’t guilty of what she was accused of. I still had a doubt about my aunt’s half-brother, but we weren’t blood related, so I had decided it wasn’t my problem, and something was off with my father. 

“I guess you’re relieved,” suddenly commented Zillah. “Now you’ll stop hiding it from your friends.” Indeed, Luna, Neville and even Ginny didn’t know anything about it, and it had been especially hard to hide during the last two weeks that I had spent at the burrow. Ginny obviously knew there was something off with me and had asked me about it several times, but I didn’t want her to know that, not when Neville had made some comments that had persuaded me I was suspected too. “You don’t seem relieved, though.” she added with a suspicious look. “Are you sure you didn’t find anything conclusive?”

“There’s maybe something about my father,” I mumbled, “but I don’t know what to think about it. Something he did a year or so before You-know-who’s fall that makes me think… Well, it makes me think maybe there’s a possibility that he’s killed a muggle family.”

“What?” Zillah’s voice was louder than expected, and the conversations in the compartment stopped briefly. “Why would he have done something like this?” she asked more quietly when chatters filled the compartment again. “I thought he was clean?”

“I told you I don’t know what to think about it… Something’s strange, but I don’t know what.”

Zillah nodded but stayed silent. She didn’t seem that surprised anymore, as if it was something she had been suspecting for a while. It created a big contrast between us because I was still deeply shaken by the news. Learning that your father might be the assassin of an innocent family wasn’t something you could accept easily. The conversations in the compartment stopped briefly, and I wondered why until I noticed a prefect’s head that had appeared through the glass. It was a girl from Ravenclaw, and she glanced briefly at us before walking away. 

“Do you think she’s looking for You-know-who?” guffawed the Slytherin guy. 

Everyone in the compartment chuckled, Zillah included. However, it wasn’t the kind of subject that made me laugh, and I suddenly felt really out of place among these people. I hastily saluted Zillah and left the compartment. I took a few steps just to be out of their sight, and then I stopped, asking myself if I really wanted to go back to Ginny, Neville and Luna. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation, Ginny was the person I was the closest to in the school, but she was really friends with Luna and Neville, and she shared way more with them than with me. If Luna was kind to everyone and me included, Neville had often shown restraint with me, without mentioning the few times I had caught him becoming suddenly very silent as soon as I had stepped in the same room as him. Finally, I decided going back to their compartment was better than spending the rest of the journey standing between two glass doors. 

“- sorry he was ever born. Harry said it was him who killed Dumbledore, he’s not going to get away with it that easily, trust me.”

It was Ginny who was talking, and she didn’t stop when I opened the door. She just shifted to the left to make some room for me, and I sat after having made sure that the door was well closed. Making that kind of comment in a train crowded with people whose intentions weren’t all clear could be very dangerous. 

“And how do you want to proceed?” Asked Luna. “Don’t you think he’ll think some people are thinking like this?”

“We don’t care,” said Neville. “He’ll pay for what he has done.”

“If any of you has an idea, feel free to suggest it. That goes for you too, Y/N, okay?”

I nodded, but a feeling of uneasiness had invaded me. Ginny looked at me with a raised eyebrow, asking me silently what was in my mind. 

“If Snape is at the head of Hogwarts… don’t you think he’ll ask other death eaters to come with him?” A silence greeted my question. “Of course it doesn’t mean I won’t help you!” I added precipitously, “Just that we should be really careful. I’m not sure we know exactly what’s coming, that’s all.” 

“You’re right,” said Neville. “But death eaters or not, everyone who throws a spanner in our work is going to have to face us.”

_ _ _ 

No matter how hard I had tried to convince myself that Hogwarts would be extremely different from before, the sight of the castle took a severe toll on me. The atmosphere reminded me a bit of the one that had enveloped us when Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban: full of fear and Dementors in the sky and around the park. It didn’t look like the safest place on earth anymore, that was for sure. 

It was in silence that all the students that were in the train joined the castle. I was next to Ginny; Neville and Luna were just behind and I could see Zillah’s head a few meters in front of us. It didn’t take a long time to realize that the fears I had expressed before were founded: at each side of the entrance door were three people, all dressed in black, with a severe expression and a very straight posture. A whisper ran through the crowd of students; were they death eaters? The answer came to us in the form of a shout from a massive man. 

“Shut up and move!”

From the corner of the eye, I saw Ginny stiffening and glaring at the guy who had just yelled. She had never looked as dangerous as right now, and I knew better than to think that it was an appearance. 

“Ginny!” I hissed as quietly as possible. “Stop this!”

“But he’s-”

“I know!” Of course I had recognized Amycus Carrow, who had tried his best to torture Ginny only a few months ago. If he had failed, it was just because Ginny had drunk some Felix Felicis before the battle of the Astronomy tower. “But if you don’t want them to show what they are capable of, you’ll have to keep it cool until we’re in the dorm.”

She sighed loudly and nodded. If this time I had adopted the voice of reason, it didn’t mean that I wanted to stay here longer than necessitated, so I picked up the pace to walk past the death eaters. The sigh of relief I wanted to breathe when they would be out of sight stayed blocked in my throat, though: people all dressed in black were standing at regular intervals and this, on each side of the corridor. The silence was heavier in the inside of the castle; it was as if, without being clearly told, everyone had understood that staying quiet was for the best. Only the sound of our feet on the stones could be heard, and it was in this tense atmosphere that we arrived in the Great Hall. 

The four main tables were still here and still the same. It was naturally that I followed Ginny to the Gryffindor table and took place next to her; and only when Neville was sitting in front of us while Luna was joining her place did I realize that the professors’ table was way smaller than before. A few more death eaters were standing in a corner, but Snape’s presence at the exact place Dumbledore used to stand at was the reason everyone was looking in this direction without a word. 

“Look at him…” murmured Neville, which caused him to deal with some terrified looks. 

Snape hadn’t even pronounced anything yet that he had already terrorized half of the school. Then his voice thundered and repercuted between the naked walls and the once magical roof that was now devoid of stars and colorful banners. 

“Things have changed, and they will keep changing.” He paused and his eyes wandered amongst the students. I could have sworn his gaze had stopped on us, and according to the shiver that shook the girl next to me, it wasn’t just an impression. “From now on, the school is mine, and the rules you will follow are mine. Each breach of the rules will cost you a price much higher than a few house points. Any attempt to rebel will be severely punished. I also suggest you to remain in the ranks, or else the consequences could be unfortunate.”

As soon as the echo of his voice disappeared, Snape turned heels and sat in the central seat of the table. He lifted his hand and the doors opened; a seemingly exhausted professor McGonagall was walking in front of a bunch of terrified first years, and to the sound of their steps added weak sobs. When she walked past us, McGonagall glanced quickly in our direction, and from the corner of the eye I saw Ginny nodding imperceptibly. When she finally reached the single wooden stool that had gone unnoticed until then, it was with a firm voice that she shouted the name of the first student. It was as if she was trying her best to ignore the fact that Hogwarts had become the most dangerous place for us all, or maybe to show us that we weren’t alone in this. 

The dinner - because it was hard to call this a feast - was conducted expeditiously and the first students to leave the great hall didn’t stay more than twenty minutes.  Almost an hour and a half after our arrival, Snape’s watch dogs forced the remaining students to leave the great hall and to join the common rooms. A frightening silence was reigning everywhere in the castle, and the cosy common room of the Gryffindor house wasn’t exception. A very few people were occupying the sofas around the chimney, there wasn’t any first year left, and most of the students following us directly took the direction of the stairs leading to the dorms. Neville saluted us quite darkly and disappeared too. 

“I didn’t think it would be so… the way it is.” I whispered as Ginny and I were sitting around a table in the corner of the room. “I remember the day we first entered the great hall… All these terrified kids, it’s awful. They’ll have to pay.”

“I agree. It’s a good thing that a few members of Dumbledore's army are still here, we’ll need as much help as we can get. We’ll have to-”

Ginny suddenly stopped and jumped on her feet, glaring at some point behind my back. I got up too, on the verge of asking what was happening, but the noise that echoed gave me the answer. Amycus Carrow and a woman that looked just like him had barged in, and they were now barking on the third years that were on the sofas. When one of them muttered that they had no right to come here, the woman drew her wand and pointed it between the guy’s eyes. Completely terrified, the latter followed his friend without another word. Understanding that it was useless and dangerous to provoke them at the moment, I went around the table and grabbed Ginny’s wrist. We took the direction of the stairs and we had almost disappeared behind the stone when we both saw it. Amycus Carrow had just nodded at me with a polite smile on the lips. Ginny’s arm moved quickly and a second later, she was shutting the door between us. 

_ _ _ 

“The Weasley girl still doesn't want to talk to you?” asked Zillah with her mouth half full of bread as I was sitting next to her. 

This had become the usual greeting she gave me each morning since I had camped in front of the Hufflepuff common room’s door, just after this thing with Amycus two weeks ago. Ginny had refused to talk to me since then, not even giving me a chance to explain, and of course the next morning Neville’s glares had added to hers. Even Luna didn’t look at me with her natural kindness anymore. Zillah had seemed very surprised when she had seen me the next morning; because I had spent the night on the hard floor of the corridor or because no one had caught me, I wasn’t sure. Still, she was now the friend I seemed to have in this castle.

“No, still not.”

“I think she needs time. I mean, she thinks you’re getting friendly with a death eater. You told me it’s the one who tried to torture her last year, right?”

I hummed and Zillah shrugged. 

“Then I understand why she’s upset.” she paused to pat my shoulder. “Maybe she’ll even come to you first, who knows?”

“I hope so…”

Then a silence took place. My eyes were fixed on Ginny who was talking with Neville and Luna. The three of them were isolated from the rest of the Gryffindor that were in the great hall for breakfast, which wasn’t a lot. It was clear that their attitude was hiding something fishy with them. 

“Are they preparing something?” suddenly asked Zillah. She was looking in the same direction as me and had a reprobatory look on her face. 

“Probably, yes. They want to defend the castle,” I said before shaking my head. “I hope they’ll be prudent, it would kill Molly if something happened to her.” 

“Yes, it looks like Ginny and her mother are really close to each other.”

I glanced at Zillah, surprised that she knew so much about Molly. As far as I knew, she had never talked to a Weasley. But my interrogations were cut short when an altercation burst on the other side of the great hall. Neville was standing up to one of Snape’s friends, and he was hiding a young girl behind him, probably a first year. Luna slipped underneath the table and grabbed the girl’s hand, leading her outside while Ginny was trying to calm Neville down. Finally, the silence came back when he agreed to follow her, and they disappeared behind the huge door. 

“I still don’t understand why you don’t scream in their ears until they listen to you.” Zillah paused the time to let Snape walk to the professors’ table before getting closer to me. “I mean, your side of the street is clean, right? It’s not your fault if Amycus is weird.” I shrugged, trying to find the good words to explain why I had been waiting for two weeks instead of grasping the nettles. “Unless you think you have a reason to blame yourself, of course…” She finished with an interrogative look. 

“Well… One of her brothers has been badly hurt by Fenrir Greyback, and his wedding has been ruined by death eaters. Another of his brothers was poisoned last year because of Malfoy. She has more reasons to hate the death eaters than anyone else and… I still don’t know what happened with my father, and I have even more doubts since this thing with Carrow... I just feel like it’s not right to stay by her side if I’m not sure that my father’s innocent, you know?”

Zillah nodded. 

“I think you’re right, you can’t risk her hating you for nothing,” she conceded. “But how will you find the answers you’re looking for?” 

“I don’t know.” I grumbled, before slamming my fist on the table. “It’s so unfair! What the hell is happening? Why does it have to be happening to me?”

“Relax Y/N, I’m not sure you want to make a scene in the middle of the great hall.” Zillah wrapped her arm around my shoulders. “You know you’re not alone, right? Whatever happens with Ginny and the others, I’m still with you.”

_ _ _ 

It was so unexpected that it took a few seconds for me to process what I had just heard. I was walking in the corridors somewhere near the library when three voices stopped me dead in my tracks. The voices were coming from behind the door that was just in front of me, belonging to three men I had never heard before even though they were obviously part of Snape’s watch dogs. At first, the voices were too low and all I could hear was a blur of unidentified sounds. But as soon as my ears were used to the muffled words, I realized they were talking about a particularly severe punishment and I had the feeling that I knew who was the target. 

“ - couldn’t get them yet. Seems like the director is nervous about this and we all know how he can be when he’s not satisfied. He says it may be for today.”

“Maybe, but the fuckers are well organized, and we can’t just take them like this. The seniors won’t let us and we can’t afford to have the Order in our way.”

“The third year we’ve interrogated earlier said they were preparing their things in a special room in the castle, the room of requirements I think he said. Seventh floor. We can take a shot.”

“Never heard of this before, you sure he didn’t lie to you?”

“Trust me, he knew better than that.”

The first who had talked said something else, but I didn’t hear it. I had taken a few steps back and my brain was almost burning: how could I avoid Ginny and the others getting caught? I knew what was going to happen if evidences were found, I myself had paid full price for defending a bunch of terrified second years in front of Alecto Carrow and the sanction reserved for Ginny, Neville and Luna oughted to be even worse. 

The wooden door suddenly opened, leaving me defenseless in front of three death eaters that drew their wands as in one. I was so terrified that my brain, which was so fast only a few seconds ago, seemed to be freezing along with the blood in my veins. 

“I suggest that you find a good excuse for listening to us, or I can promise you you’ll regret it.” threatened a tall and thin man, whose face seemed to be the copy of a rat’s. 

“I know what they’re going to do and where I can tell you if you want.” I blurted out before holding my breath, praying that they would be convinced. 

The three guys exchanged looks, and the one on the left seemed dangerously sceptical. Finally, the rat-faced guy nodded and lifted an eyebrow. 

“It’s for soon, in the potions classroom.” I started, trying my best to keep control of my breath. “I believe they want to make it explode, I’ve seen them gathering all sorts of forbidden products. I think they’re already there, but-”

“You better be telling the truth.” 

With that, the three men left precipitously and as soon as their bodies had disappeared from my sight, I turned tails and ran in the other direction. I needed to get to Ginny as soon as possible to warn her not to do whatever she had in mind. By the time I had gotten to the seventh floor, my legs were burning and my lungs felt like they were on the verge of exploding. Without losing a second, I began pacing to make the door appear but someone’s arrival interrupted me. 

“You here? Get out of here, you traitor!” 

It was Seamus, and he rolled up his sleeve as if to address his words. 

“Seamus!” I exclaimed, which definitely surprised him. “I need you to tell Ginny to stop whatever she’s preparing. She’s in danger, you hear me? In danger! Someone denounced her to Snape and he knows she’s here with Neville, Luna and whoever helps them. I led the death eaters off the scent but it won’t be enough, tell them, okay?”

And with that, I left as quickly as I had come, afraid that the wrong person could see me here and guess what had happened. I glanced in my back one last time - Seamus was still looking at me, seemingly very confused, but he nodded silently before being hidden by the wall. I only managed to join the fifth floor when a voice shouted loudly. 

“You! Stop!”

I had been caught. 

The rat-faced guy grabbed my arm, his fingers tightening me so tightly that it felt like he was touching my bones. He was almost growling, the sound coming from the depth of his throat and terrifying me as much as a snarling wolf would have. The man, Marcus as it seemed since one of his friends called him when he joined us, abruptly pulled my arm to make me walk behind him. His pace was quick and determined, and his jaw tightly clenched. As far as I could see, he was furious, and the little hope I had left vanished. I didn’t even know if I would make it out alive. 

The three men brought me to an empty classroom that I was positive I had never been in before. The tables were all covered in a thick layer of dust, some of them were broken and so were the chairs. There was no window, only one door and the latter closed quietly behind us. I had the intuition that it wouldn’t open that easily, and definitely not soon. 

It was dark in there, but not enough to be blind. That made me realize that the walls had a certain number of cracks, and for a second I thought of screaming with all the breath in my lungs. Marcus probably had the same idea at the same time; before I could do anything, he cast a silencing spell on me. 

“This way, we’re sure we won’t be bothered.” he whispered with a twisted smile. 

My heart began to beat at a terrible pace, and the fact that I was trying to scream so loud without even producing a whimper made me feel so defenseless that I never tried to protect myself. I just waited for the punishment, knees getting numb on the stone floor, expecting the pain without receiving it. It looked like it wasn’t what Marcus wanted; he tried to get me to react, maybe even attack him in what we both knew would be a desperate and useless attempt to escape; he pushed me before putting me back on my knees, insulted me, described me all he would do to me, all he wanted to do to Ginny, but I didn’t want to give him satisfaction. I wanted to focus on something else than the torture I was about to suffer, and all I found was to imagine Ginny swooping in to save me and telling me she wasn’t mad anymore. 

However, it wasn’t Ginny’s voice that I heard when the first Cruciatus spell hit me, and it wasn’t hers either that I heard during the unending time that the punishment lasted. 

_ _ _ 

“Y/N? Y/N?” 

The voice seemed to come from a dream, muffled as if I had cotton in the ears, distant and soothing. 

“Y/N!”

It suddenly became louder, more defined, and with the proximity I heard something else in this voice. Something that wasn’t soothing, it was the contrary; it was anxious and stressful, not very steady but not shaking either. More importantly, it was Ginny’s voice. 

I opened my eyes, and it took a moment to remember where I was. The classroom. I could see the tables that had been moved around me, and I could even see the walls which was impossible before. A tall silhouette was getting close to me, someone that I couldn’t identify because the door was open behind them and there was too much light. The person that was now next to me kneeled and Ginny’s features appeared. She seemed disturbed, sad too. 

“She’s awake!” she shouted above her shoulder, which made me screech. My head was on the verge of exploding. “Come on,” she added more softly as her eyes were on me again. “We’ll bring you somewhere safe.” 

I nodded and let her and Neville, who had gotten in too, lift me to put me back on my feet. My legs had never felt so heavy and devoid of strength, I was nothing more than a dead weight as the two carried me out of this hell. As we got closer to the door, I identified three more persons; Zillah was standing next to Luna, and Seamus had taken a step forward to help Ginny. The latter shook her head and I felt her grip on my waist tightening. 

The way to the room of requirements - I had heard Neville mentioning it, so I had supposed it was our destination - was essentially composed of stairs, and no matter how hard I tried to help Neville and Ginny, there wasn’t an ounce of energy left in my body. Every single cell was terribly painful, I had never suffered so much in my life before. 

We finally reached a corridor of the seventh floor, the same in which I had stumbled upon Seamus earlier - how long I didn’t know though, it was another question I would have to ask. A huge door appeared and Ginny half carried me inside. She helped me reach a makeshift bed on the floor, and as soon as my head touched the fabric, my eyes closed. 

And they stayed closed for a while, or so I supposed when I woke up. The room was no longer almost empty, it was more looking like an anthill now that all the beds and hammocks were occupied. But it wasn’t exactly time for sleeping; all the conversations were forming a soft buzzing somehow reassuring. Despite my sore body, I sat up and took a better look around me. The room wasn’t huge, maybe a bit bigger than a large classroom, not much more. The beds were in fact makeshift mattresses with colorful blankets, and the hammocks that were as colorful were suspended to the walls. There were also two banners hanging from the wall in front of the door; one for Gryffindor and one for Ravenclaw. 

“It’s because we only have Gryffindors and Ravenclaws here,” said Ginny as she arrived from behind me with a water bottle. She handed it to me and I glanced to thank her before drinking avidly. “Though we probably will have to add another, your friend Zillah is here too. Very curious, maybe even too much.” she frowned before shaking her head. “But it’s not important. Are you feeling better?”

Ginny waited patiently as I was finishing the water. The sips I took were now longer and I was slower for a very good reason: I didn’t know what to say. Ginny wasn’t stupid though, and she gestured toward two Ravenclaw girls that I didn’t know. They nodded and left, leaving the two of us alone in this corner of the room. 

“Y/N, I need you to tell me how you’re feeling.”

I could have answered a lot of things, like hungry, cold, afraid, sore… It was all true. Yet now Ginny was next to me, caring for me, and there was only one answer that seemed correct. 

“Safe,” I murmured. 

“You are now.” she whispered back. “We’ll make them pay, you can trust me.” 

I nodded. The thought was somewhat soothing, but I couldn’t focus on that. It seemed strange that after such a long time spent seemingly hating me, at least avoiding me, Ginny was now sitting next to me, bringing me water and promising she would seek vengeance for me. 

“Ginny, who do you see when you look at me?”

She looked up to me, seemingly surprised. 

“I see one of my best friends that has been tortured to protect me. I know, Seamus told me,” she added before I could say anything. “I don’t see a traitor or an enemy, if that’s what you were asking. I’ve never seen a traitor or an enemy. Just… Someone I didn’t trust enough, I guess.”

I looked away, slightly hurt. I would have trusted her with my life, even before all of this. Knowing that it wasn’t mutual was something I would have a hard time to accept. 

“Y/N, trust me, I’ll never forgive myself for the things I’ve done to you. I shouldn’t have been so mefiant, I should have given you a chance to explain.” 

“Yes, you should have.” 

Ginny looked away, something that looked a lot like regret painted all over her face. It was rare to see her displaying her deepest emotions, it caught me by surprise and it was without thinking that I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. 

“Don’t worry, you trust me now, right? That’s all that matters.” 

Ginny nodded and stared at me with an interrogative look. 

“Can I ask you something?” She didn’t wait for my answer and continued. “Why didn’t you try to explain? Actually, what happened that day? Why was Carrow so… nice with you?”

“I don’t know why,” I mumbled. “I found it as strange as you. As for why I didn’t explain, it’s… it’s complicated, Ginny.”

“I think I can understand.” 

There was no way I could avoid this discussion, that was clear. So I sighed and told her everything about all the research I had gone through, why I suspected my father to be a murderer, why I had felt like I didn’t have the right to be her friend. Ginny stayed silent for a while, and I didn’t have any idea on what her reaction would be. Her face was closed, she was looking at some point in the opposite corner of the room, where Zillah was talking with Luna and another Ravenclaw girl. 

“And what was Zillah’s reaction when you told her you didn’t feel like you could be my friend?”

I hesitated before answering. The question was weird, it was not really what I was expecting but Ginny seemed to be deep in her thoughts. 

“She said that I was right, I shouldn’t talk to you before being sure my father was innocent. Why?”

“You don’t find it strange that she didn’t advise you the contrary? To come to me and try to explain?”

“I… don’t know.” I hesitated again. “Ginny, what are you thinking about?”

“You noticed that Zillah was there when we found you in the classroom, earlier?” I nodded. Yes, I had seen her, even though I wasn’t expecting her when it was Ginny, Neville, Luna and Seamus that she was accompanying. “No one told her what you had done, and she wasn’t with you before. She’s the one who led us to you. How did she know?”

“Ginny… I know where this is going, but you’re wrong. Zillah’s my friend, and she didn’t even know what I was going to do! I was alone when I heard their conversation and I didn’t see her afterward.” 

“I’m not talking about this.” Ginny’s voice was calm, and it was firmly that she grabbed my wrist to address her words. “Y/N, I’m not saying she denounced you to the death eaters. I’m saying she denounced us to them, and you just happened to hear them.”

“But how would she-”

I suddenly stopped because the question was useless. I knew how she had learnt about what Ginny, Neville and the others were preparing. Something as burning as acid slowly crept in my veins; it was guilt, because I was the one who had told her. 

“I’m sorry Y/N, but it looks like you gave your trust to the wrong person.” 

“Ginny, I’m- I’m sorry, if I had been-”

“It’s not your fault. I promise she too will pay for hurting you.”

Ginny was now infuriated; if her face was stoic, her eyes said it all for her. 

_ _ _ 

“Zillah?” repeated Luna. “I knew I shouldn’t have warned her about the Wrackspurts. She deserves to have her brain go fuzzy.”

“Brain fuzzy or not, at least we know who the traitor is.” added Ginny. “Now, we have to confront her.”

“But we have no proof,” interjected Neville. “We’re not sure that she’s really the one who ratted us out, maybe she found us just because she was looking for Y/N. As for the ‘you shouldn’t talk to Ginny thing’, it’s not a secret that she doesn’t like us, maybe she just wanted to keep Y/N for herself.”

“It can’t be a coincidence,” said Ginny. “And I refuse to let her get out of this just because we’re not sure.”

“You’re making it personal.”

“Of course I’m making it personal!” exploded Ginny. “You saw Y/N too, didn’t you? You helped me carry her because she had been tortured so much that she couldn’t even walk! How can I make it anything else than personal?”

Seeing them talking about me as if I wasn’t here was getting annoying, so I just interrupted them. It caused me to deal with a murderous look that disappeared as soon as Ginny realized it was me. 

“Neville’s right, we can’t do anything as long as we’re not sure. And it’s not by sitting here that you’ll find the proof you’re looking for,” I added before Ginny could interrupt me. “Maybe we should stop talking and begin searching.”

“You’re right,” she conceded. “Neville, Luna, you should start asking people about Zillah, but only people we trust, okay?”

Neville rolled his eyes, either because of the obvious recommendation or because Ginny had taken her time to admit he was right, but he still got up and followed Luna. As for me, I ignored Ginny’s piercing eyes when she asked me to follow her out of the room of requirements. We both stayed silent for a while: everytime one of us wanted to say something, someone stepped in the corridor we were in and silence was never broken. 

“I know what you’re doing.” Finally said Ginny as we were heading to the library. She brushed aside my innocent face and continued. “I think you’re still hoping that she’s innocent.”  It was useless to deny it; of course I didn’t want Ginny to be right, so instead of trying to find excuses, I shrugged. “I get it that it’s hard for you Y/N, placing your trust in the wrong person is… Well, it’s not very pleasant. But you have people you can trust around you, you have real friends. You have me.” 

“Thank you Ginny. I- I needed to hear that.”

She nodded and accelerated a bit to open the library’s door in front of me. 

“You didn’t tell me what we’re doing here,” I murmured as I was following her through the shelves until we stumbled upon Madam Pince. 

“Can we go to the restricted section? It’s important.”

Madam Pince simply nodded and Ginny gestured to me to follow her. 

“Since when can we go to the restricted section without any authorization?” I asked, flabbergasted. 

“We have one, Madam Pince just allowed us, didn’t she?” Ginny glanced at me with an amused look. “It’s not the first time I’m searching in this section for information, that’s all.”

“I’ve been several times too and I always needed a note from a professor,” I grumbled as Ginny opened the door of the section. Once sure we were alone in it, Ginny turned to me and finally explained why we were here. 

“We’re going to do some research about this muggle family you think your father has killed.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s something strange, and with Zillah’s reaction, I wonder if her family isn’t involved.” 

“Impossible,” I objected. “They are muggles.”

“That’s what she told you.” I was beginning to find this far-fetched when she asked me something else that made me doubt. “Tell me, does Zillah seem scared by the whole muggle born thing to you?”

I opened and closed my mouth several times. Now that I thought about it, she didn’t seem even concerned by the several attacks and controls that the muggle borns were suffering. I hadn’t heard her talking about it once, and if we added the behaviour I had found inappropriate in the train, then it was natural to think that maybe she had something to hide. As Ginny was still monologuing, I found a table in a corner between two shelves and pulled a chair; I hadn’t said anything about it, but all the cells of my body were still burning, making every movement really painful. 

“Does it still hurt?” asked Ginny from behind me. Her hand suddenly appeared in front of me, holding a vial filled with potion. “It’s for the pain.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled before drinking it straight. “So, where do we begin?”

The next hour and half was spent pouring over genealogy books and articles mentioning murders and death eaters. The potion Ginny had given me had made me sleepy, my eyes were closing despite my will to stay awake to find information, and Ginny eventually decided it was enough for this day. 

“I’m going to bring you back to the room of requirements, and then I’ll help Neville and Luna, okay?”

I nodded and let her put back in their shelves all the books we had been reading. Then we left the library and joined our little safe place. Ginny only left after having made sure I was in my bed and too asleep to move away from it. 

_ _ _ 

“I gotta admit you were right,” mumbled Neville, the eyes still fixed on the picture he was holding. 

“I knew it, there was something strange from the beginning! Zillah is a liar and she had us all.” 

Ginny had finally found the proof she had been looking for for days now: my father wasn’t a murderer. He had probably never known the muggle family that had been killed, I would have to ask him if the opportunity arose. The picture was a good enough evidence in itself: it had been taken by a muggle that lived in a street close to where the murder had occured, only a few minutes after the presumed moment of the facts. It showed a man leaving an alley with what looked awfully like blood all over his clothes. He was a wizard, which couldn’t be denied as he was holding a wand, and more importantly, his face wasn’t my fathers but the same as Zillah. I had first objected that it could be a coincidence; that was great because I was now sure my father wasn’t responsible, but maybe it wasn’t a member of Zillah’s family? Ginny had then handed me a copy of a muggle newspaper that mentioned a guy with Zillah’s family name, saying that he had been missing for a week. He had disappeared two days before the murder. 

“But-” I had tried to object before Neville interrupted me.

“Listen Y/N, I think that these are unquestionable evidence. I understand that you refuse to believe that your friend lied to you, but it seems pretty obvious to me that she isn’t the person she says she is.”

“Even if it’s his father, it doesn’t mean that she knew!” I exclaimed. Neville and Ginny exchanged a glance that I didn’t like at all, and Ginny sighed. 

“There’s something we haven’t told you,” she began. “We didn’t want to break it to you unless we were sure, but with all the things we’ve found, there’s no doubt left. You know this Slytherin guy she’s always with?” I nodded, apprehending what was next. “He and all his family have sworn allegiance to You-know-who. She meets regularly with him and a few other people in the dungeons. Most of them have well known death eaters in their family.”

Neville and Ginny were both looking at me and looking sorry. The latter patted my shoulder before wrapping her arm around my shoulders. 

“We can’t let her know we’ve figured everything out,” she murmured. “I think it would be too dangerous.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Neville shook his head, an irritating sympathetic look on his face, and he left without another word. Ginny was still just next to me; with everything that had happened, I was probably in for several months with her following me like my own shadow. That thought didn’t bother me at all. 

“You know, Neville doesn’t really understand why you didn’t ask your family about all of this,” said Ginny after a few minutes spent in silence. “After all, with the rumours it’s legitimate. Is it because of this?”

“I wasn’t sure I could trust my mother to tell me the truth, and I didn’t ask my father for obvious reasons. As for the rest of my family, they are all suspected too.”

“I see,” she murmured. “I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t find anything about them, just the proof that your father’s innocent. At least now, you’ll be able to ask your parents.”

I noded silently. After another few minutes, Ginny decided I had to change my mind and offered to follow her in the greenhouses. I first refused; couldn’t she let me get depressed on my own? But she insisted and I eventually gave up, secretly grateful that she hadn’t just left me alone. 

I thought that with time, I had gotten used to the new Hogwarts, to the now omnipresent silence and darkness that crept in every corridor. It had been a while since the first of September, a time long enough to forget how joyful the place used to be. However, when we got to the main floor, where usually there were always several groups of students and even teachers no matter what time it was, it hit me harder than ever that the school was now like dead. As if it had been killed by all the evil that had invited itself. 

“It’s scary, isn’t it?” I glanced at Ginny, wondering if she was thinking about the same thing as I was. “How everything seems physically darker than before,” she added. “In all honesty, I don’t know anymore what could save the castle… I thought that Dumbledore's Army was the solution, but let’s face it… We’re not changing anything here.”

“You’re wrong, many students are safe in the room of requirements thanks to Dumbledore’s Army. And think about the day Harry, Ron and Hermione will come back, think about how things will change!”

Ginny nodded with a smile and quietly thanked me. If it hadn’t sounded so cliché, I would have answered that she had done way more for me, and that all I wanted was her to be confident because I would have done anything for her. But it did sound very cliché, so I just shrugged it off. 

“Funny how you just thought of my brother and his friend,” Ginny suddenly said with a malicious smile. “You are sure it had nothing to do with the fact that you’re in love with him?”

“What?” I exclaimed in disbelief. “Me? In love with Ron? Certainly not!” 

“Then why are you always so excited to come with us for the holidays?” 

Ginny seemed to be really amused by the situation, but I really wasn’t. She was right when she said that I was always overjoyed to spend some time at the Burrow but it wasn’t for Ron, I barely spoke with him! I wasn’t sure about the reason behind this excitement but it was definitely not her brother. 

“I don’t know, but trust me, it’s not because of any of your brothers.” 

“That’s too bad.” she stated, even though it didn’t really look like she was disappointed. “I still hope one day, you’ll be officially part of the family.” I laughed, and agreed with her. “You know what they say, as long as there’s life, there’s hope!”

“Yeah, well it looks like we won’t stay hopeful for long, then,” I mumbled as I was watching the empty corridor. 

“You shouldn’t be so pessimistic, Y/N.” Ginny wasn’t smiling anymore, but she wasn’t looking defeated either. She was just determined. “We’re together, there’s inevitably hope. You and I, we’re two against the storm, and we have our friends and family. I’m not too afraid, and I don’t want you to be.”

“I’m not,” I smiled. “Not anymore. Ginny, I just wanted you to know that… As long as you need me, I won’t fall.”

She grabbed my hand and smiled. 

“I’ll always need you.”

“Then I’ll never fall.”

[galactichoneybee92]

Thoughts on BakuDeku

I’ve been lurking in the MHA fandom for a while now, just kind of silently watching, and I have a few observations that I would like to make. Just perspectives that I would like to put out into the universe. I am on the older side of this website, much less this fandom and so I am no stranger to fandom culture. And when I say old? I mean like I was an active participant on ff.net circa 2005 so like, I’m sure some of you are older but I’m getting up there. My point? I’ve seen things.

As far as fandoms go in general, the MHA is far from the most toxic that I’ve seen but there does seem to be a few points of contention and per usual it comes back to shipping. This is nothing new but lets speak a little on BakuDeku as a ship. I warn you now, it’s not always going to be things you want to hear, but I encourage you to read to the end anyway. 

Horikoshi has fully admitted to having been a huge Naruto fan and it’s pretty easy to see the influence in his work. On that note, it’s pretty safe to say that the Midoriya/Bakugo relationship can be compared to the Naruto/Sasuke relationship. You can see other parallels (All Might = Iruka, Aizawa =  Kakashi, etc...) but for the sake of argument let’s focus solely on Midoriya/Bakugo. Personally, I tend to prefer MHA to Naruto overall, as I just like the characters better and as such I like Bakugo a lot more than Sasuke. Horikoshi has taken more time to humanize Bakugo, and while he started off being a total dick, he’s also a dumb fuck teenage boy and he’s had a lot of character growth over the last 29 volumes. 

In the Naruto fandom, much like in the MHA fandom, there were loads of fans who shipped Naruto and Sasuke romantically. If we are judging the probability of Midoriya and Bakugo becoming a cannon couple, it stands to reason that we can examine the author’s influences and infer that, no, they probably won’t. For one thing, homosexuality is still considered a controversial topic in Japan like in America, and even if the author wanted to make it romantic he would probably receive a good amount of push-back from publishers. 

Now I don’t want you to read this and think that I am at all against it. I’m not. And forever ago when I was reading Naruto I occasionally wondered what would happen if an author published a Shounen manga, got millions invested, and then SURPRISE it was a M/M romance all along. I think it would be fun but I can’t say that I am realistically convinced that it will happen. But that isn’t really the point of this post.

My point, is that this fandom, like many others (And this website in general???) needs to learn the difference between actual queer baiting and a ship that just...doesn’t happen? And I’ve seen all the arguments, about how they clearly love each other and how their bond is so deep and how if either of the characters had this kind of relationship with a female character it would ABSOLUTELY be romantic. And I hear your points, but if I may provide a few of my own: 

1. There are many different ways to love in the world and they don’t all have to involve romance and kissing and sex. Do you love your family? Do you have friends that you would die for? These are relationships that people have and their just as valid in fiction as in real life.

2. Yes, if they were opposite genders than it probably would be the central romance of the mange, but that isn’t proof of queer baiting so much as a general failure to accurately represent opposite gender friendships in media. There should be male and female friendships that are just as strong while remaining platonic so this is a failure but not the failure you thing it is.  (If anyone likes Kdramas, Suspicious Partner is an excellent one that has not only a great romantic subplot but also some WONDERFUL platonic M/F friendships and it’s just beautiful) (That being said I also recommend the Taiwanese drama HIStory 3: Trapped for a wonderful M/M romance since if you’re reading this post that’s probably something you’re into) 

I think that a lot of the problems come from the fact that good romantic relationships do build similarly to friendships. You get a lot of bonding moments, the characters getting to know each other better and coming to care for one another and since media tends to focus predominantly on romantic relationships it’s easy to just get into the mindset that like, all bonding moments are leading somewhere. And in a way they are: to friendship. And then sometimes that friendship leads to romance and sometimes it doesn’t but what I’m saying is that the two look very similar. You SHOULD be friends with your romantic partner, and I think that that is why it’s so easy to ship these sort of couples. Especially when they do have an especially deep bond like these two have.

As far as BakuDeku as a couple in general, yeah, I ship it. I’ve read my fair share of fanfiction and if it did happen I would be psyched. I didn’t always like Bakugo (He’s just doing THE MOST at all times) but I grew to love him and if he continues to grow in the direction that he has been I wouldn’t personally have any problems with it. They have an interesting dynamic that incorporates some of my favorite tropes and I think it would be cool if the manga went there. But if they don’t? That’s also fine. 

There have been several ACTUAL examples of queer baiting in media that I can point to such as the Japanese ads for Sherlock (I didn’t necessarily find the show itself to be queerbaiting but the Japanese ads for the new seasons hardcore did) and while I tried hard to defend Supernatural (WAY too much of the fandom shipped actual brothers together for me to believe that they understood the value of any sort of platonic relationship) they kind of blew that out of the water with whatever the fuck happened in that last season. 

I don’t see that happening here and while I know a lot of you are set for your ship to become cannon I just want you to maybe manage your expectations. Because in my experience, when it gets built up this big, if it DOESN’T happen the next thing fans do is start ranting about queer-baiting and insulting the series and the team and I don’t want to see that because it isn’t fair to any of them. I’ve seen it happen in other fandoms and it gets real ugly real fast. 

Alternatively, if anyone has watched the reboot of She-Ra and the Princesses of Power you will know that the creators played their cards super close to their chest, doing their best to properly develop the homosexual relationships they wanted while keeping it subtle enough that they could prevent themselves from being cancelled before the last season aired. Then they went all in and made their homosexual ships cannon in the final season because at that point the whole show was out wtf was going to happen? They’d get cancelled? It was already over. So if you would like a serving of hope to cling to, that is a thing that happened. I just wouldn’t necessarily bet on it. 

That being said, I fully support your right to ship anything you want. And if by some chance it does become cannon? More power to you. I’d be psyched. Horikoshis assistants ship the hell out of it and he clearly doesn’t mind so there is a point in your favor. But if it doesn’t? A lack of romance doesn’t invalidate the depth of their feelings for one another. Platonic love is still love and it’s still a powerful driving force in the story. Their relationship is still compelling even if there isn’t ever a kiss, or a confession. And hey, that’s what fanfiction is for. 

Remember kids: Please ship responsibly. 

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Hey, Little Songbird

Chapter 11 - AO3

D-Day.

M. Devereux, the history professor, was handing back their projects, finally graded. Felix, of course, knew that his and Marinette’s deserved nothing less than a perfect score.

What grades other people got… well, that was their own business. If they decided to share that information with the class, then he’d take pleasure in it.

He and Marinette received their own before certain other people. He flipped open the professional black binder to reveal their perfect score on the cover page. Marinette’s smile was blinding and Felix found it hard to breath for a second as a soft smile that only existed around his mother began to form on his lips.

“What!?” A screech flung from the front of the class. His smile morphed into a smirk as Rossi stared at M. Devereux with horrified eyes. “How did we get a failure!?”  

“If you have any questions about your results, I will address them after class, Mlle. Rossi.”

“B-But we used Lila’s notes!” Cesaire replied unable to stop a glance at those in the back. In her hands, clear for everyone to see, was the rose-imbedded binder Felix had ‘lost’ the week previous. “It should have been perfect!”

“After class.”

Rossi shot a glare at them—pathetic, she thought she still had a chance—and burst into a symphony of fake tears. “I-I knew I shouldn’t have let Marinette look at our project! She probably swapped the contents of our binder when I wasn’t looking!”

The class turned back to look at them, but M. Devereux would have no accusations of plagiarism in his class. “While it is possible someone could have switched your assignment, it is because both you and Mlle. Cesaire’s names were only on the title page of your assignment. M. Graham de Vanily and Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s names were on each page in the header, as the formatting instructions required.” His eyes narrowed. “Please refrain from shouting in my classroom.”

“T-Then!” Rossi’s voice cracked unpleasantly, “They must have re-typed the assignment!”

Felix rolled his eyes. “That’s too much work.”

Marinette nodded, then frowned. “Hey… isn’t that the binder you lost last week?” She asked, her voice the perfect picture of innocence, drawing the class’s attention to the rather memorable piece of leather. “The one you reported to lost and found but never heard back from?”

“Yes, I think it is. Why do you both have it?”

Rossi snatched the binder from Cesaire’s arms, clutching it to her chest. “No it’s not! It must be a different one!”

One of the other classmates spoke up—a blond one, the Princess Fragrance girl. “But it has the same rose on it!” By holding it against her chest, Rossi revealed the memorable rose backing to the world. “I remember it because I thought it was so pretty!”

“Y-Yeah, that’s why I bought one just like it!” Rossi’s smile was flawless.

Felix cocked an eyebrow. “You bought a hundred-euro binder that looks exactly like the one that went missing?” Some strain. He shrugged. “Sure, I’ll buy it… if you can provide the receipt.”

“Huh?”

“The receipt, Rossi.” Felix dug around in his back for his receipt pouch and pulled out the one for the binder; it was ready at the front just for this purpose. “I have my own, for my binder. Provide yours, and I won’t report you for stealing.”

“I bought it online,” came the swift lie.

“Then show proof of purchase on your phone,” Marinette quickly rebutted.

“Not that she can,” Felix added. “Since this store doesn’t sell it’s more expensive items online, only in person.” He grinned, watching as the rusty gears in Rossi’s head began to smoke from the pressure. “So how’d you manage to do that?”

“It’s not from the same store, obviously.”

“So another store just so happened to be carrying the exact same handmade binder?” he snorted. “Just tell us the truth, Rossi; some of us want to go to lunch.”

“I… I…” Her eyes were darting around the room, meeting friendly and unfriendly gazes alike when she suddenly burst into tears. “I’m sorry!” she wailed. “I found the binder in lost and found! It, it was so pretty, and I didn’t know it was yours, Felix! Please forgive me!”

The few hostile classmates seemed to be on the brink of doing so, but before Felix could interject, Marinette said, “So you stole it from lost and found? How is that much better?”

“That’s not the same, Marinette,” Adrien said, narrowing his eyes at her. So he would defend the liar and not his own cousin’s stolen property? How shameful… and utterly expected. “It was just lost and found. If it was important to Felix, he wouldn’t have lost it, would he?”

“I’ve found Markov in lost and found; are you saying that he’s not important?” The Gamer boy’s jaw dropped, before he leveled a glare at Adrien. “And Alix’s skates, and Nathaniel’s sketchbook, and Rose’s perfumes. Are you saying those aren’t important?”

“No!”

“Then why isn’t it important when it’s your cousin’s things?”

“That’s enough!” M. Devereux spoke above her voice. “Students, you are dismissed for lunch. Mlle. Cesaire, Mlle. Rossi, stay. We have something to speak about.” The students hesitated, unsure. “I want this classroom empty now.”

Felix and Marinette escaped in the max exodus, Felix gloating inwardly at the scowl Rossi shot him. It felt good to irritate her. They separated from the class to head towards the bakery.

As soon as they were out of sight, Mariette let out a little giggle. “They didn’t even check it!”

“Shows their average intelligence then, though I wasn’t really expecting them too. I did insinuate that the project was complete, after all. And who proofreads the assignment they stole?” It was a bit tedious, go through their own assignment and altering the dates and names so that only half the timeline was correct, but he considered it well worth the effort.

“So that’s what you two did.” They stopped and turned. Adrien had been following them, a stern scowl on his face. Felix felt Marinette falter at his side. “You deliberately made them fail.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say deliberately.” Felix quickly shielded her with his body. “It was more of a happy accident that they didn’t check. My real plan was to use the binder from the start.” No one buys a binder like that unless they wanted it to be remembered, after all.

“But you still let them turn in a false assignment.”

“That they stole. They didn’t have to steal it. They didn’t have to turn in work that wasn’t theirs. They chose this outcome.” Felix tapped his chin. “Or rather, Rossi chose this.”

“They couldn’t choose anything, they didn’t know anything! Lila was probably just… worried about her grade. If anything, you two should have helped her!”

“If she needed help, she should have met with the teacher. Not steal another person’s assignment. If you must, think of it as a prank. Or karma.”

“It’s not karma when you make other people suffer for her actions!” Adrien snapped. “Now Lila’s probably going to get akumatized again!”

“And how is that our problem? We’re kids, we don’t have to deal with akumas.”

Adrien’s argument seemed to stumble, his eyes growing wide. “C-Chat Noir will have to! I’m just trying to keep down the amount of work the heroes face! Although—” Adrien’s eyes gained a rather cruel glint to them— “You wouldn’t know much about that, would you. In fact, if I remember right, you make their jobs harder.”

Felix failed to hide a wince at the thought of the triple akuma he caused. But before he could return fire, Marinette spoke up from behind him, though her voice was too low to hear.

Adrien frowned. “What was that?”

“I said—” Marinette brushed past Felix, her eyes shining wetly with rage. “That’s a LOW BLOW, Adrien Agreste!!” -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Before you leave, I have made a spotify playlist for this fic. You can find it here. Feel free to leave suggestions for the playlist, as it is mostly musical songs at this point (I even surpassed my hatred of Dear Evan Hanson to put a few of those songs on it, so I need suggestions, please). Thank you!

Taglist: @graduatedmelon @novicevoice @dur55 @kris-pines04 @18-fandoms-unite-08 @moonlightstar64 @bee-a-garbage-shipper @sol-o-shade @kittyotakunoir666 @tinyterror333 @allieoftheenemy @marichat00 @xgxmxtx @two-faced-biatch @feliciakainzofspades @evil-cricket @emilytopaz @spicybelladonna @chocolateherringtacofan @user00000003 @wannajointhecrabcult @happymonster-pants @duquesapincarrasca @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: Find Us

Summary: (Y/N)’s sleep study goes horribly wrong.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine

Taglist: @ubbesgirl, @shewolf2000, @tis-itheapplepie, @atequila, @demoncrypt1066, @greennightspider, @badbitsh13, @fireismysaftey, @minarawr, @laketaj24, @hvitserksgirl, @blahblahcookiesdoma, @fabulous-peasent, @sforsammmmmi, @minmiin1d, @courtrae89, @letsloveimagines, @tomarisela, @titty-teetee, @beyond-the-ashes@elenawrit, @mblaqgi, @whenimaunicorn, @chuflisworld, @mystruggledlife, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @syreni-dea, @trashqueenbitch, @alykatv, @mbaku-babygirl, @perfectus-in-morte, @beyond-the-ashes, @neeadinghugs, @readsalot73, @triumphantreturnofpies, @anarchy-is-coming, @tephi101, @alicedopey, @ivarslittlebadgirl, @jtrstp, @nejijjeoroo, @charlylama, @ivartheblessed, @captstefanbrandt, @fabulouschrissi, @ivarsrideordie, @3x5gurl, @the-writer-appreciation-blog, @lolabee9, @captainfoxy22, @young-ugly-god, @im5ftbutmythroat66, @bribyyy, @irishhiggins, @cadetomlinson, @keclleon101, @slutforragnarssons, @ltkeke, @meeeeeeeeeps, @lille-kanin, @opalscarab, @ssraven7, @ivarandersen, @concretewaywardangel, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @sharon-is-tired, @cadetomlinson, @mystruggledlife, @chuflisworld, @justmarissa97, @lol-haha-joke, @weirdly-randomly-awesome, @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanim, @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers, @alexa040004, @buckythetinman , @burntmythroatskullingmytea,@jorunnravenslayer, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @buffy-the-vampire-blogger, @arses21434, @ltkeke, @captainfoxy22, @chinduda @letsshamelessqueen-m @my-soul-is-the-moon @we-are-transcendent

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six,Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine

Sitting at the table you had continued the research you had begun the day before, you had been knee deep in articles since you had sent your sibling off to school that morning and it was almost time for them to get out.

Not that they would be coming back home after school; your mother had to stay on location for a few days and for tonight you couldn’t hold down the fort because you had your own appointment.

Dr. Finehair said he had a specialist come in to conduct a sleep study to see if maybe it was a brainwave disturbance causing your sleeping problems and he wanted you to try and sleep as long as you could.

Without meaning to you had let your mind wander back to your phone call with Ivar yesterday.

After you hung up you spared a moment to think about how abruptly Ivar decided to end the call, it seemed like something was wrong with him.

You figured he would tell you when he felt the need to talk about it, so you went back to your research on Ivar the Boneless.

History was one of your favorite subjects because it’s like a story that really happened once upon a dark and twisted time.

The more you read the more you wanted to put it all aside and never look at it again, which was odd for you. Normally you loved the dark part of history, you believed that no country can ever grow without looking back at its history.

American history was your usual topic but this was a completely new ballpark, and Ivar the Boneless didn’t really feel like light reading. Especially when you couldn’t help but picture your best friend performing a Blood Eagle in order to avenge his father.

His father was another matter that needed researching, you had to look into as much as you could. Any small piece of information could be vital to figuring out this whole thing.

Whatever this thing was.

Your stomach growled and snapped you out of your own head, you sat aside your laptop and stretched before you stood up from your kitchen table.

The kitchen window gave your neighbor a good enough view that she could just walk by and see that you weren’t sleeping.

It didn’t surprise you that your mother didn’t trust you to stay awake on your own accord, because you also didn’t trust yourself to not take a nap.

God you needed a nap.

With a sigh you went and made yourself a quick bowl of ramen to ease your hunger without overfilling yourself.

It was about an hour before Ivar would be released.

He was going to drive you to the hospital and wait for you, meaning he would sleep in an uncomfortable waiting room or even worse his truck. It felt odd that he would do that for you, and even though you had asked him to, you thought he’d decline.

Suddenly your phone chimed with a message.

I’m leaving early be there in ten - Ivar

Cool, we can just chill until it’s time to go - (Y/N)

You looked at the phone and couldn’t help but second guess if that message was good enough, or if you should have added any emojis.

Ugh, this was not good, how could you have suddenly developed feelings for him; Ivar of all people. The guy you were trying to get to remember his past life.

A life in which he was married to you while being old enough to be your grandfather.

You groaned in mild annoyance and complete confusion as you went upstairs to change out of the pajamas you had been lounging in.

The minutes passed like seconds and soon Ivar was at your door.

Fighting the urge to double check yourself in the mirror you went downstairs to let him in.

‘Hey, I got your schoolwork.’ he said handing you a folder.

‘Boo.’ you whined as you looked at the assignments.

‘You’re welcome, not like I went out of my way to get them for you or anything.’ Ivar sassed.

‘Thank you, think you can help me with this...I hate math.’

‘I know, sure I’ll help.’

You led him to the kitchen and subtly motioned to the open window and waved at your neighbor who waved back.

The older woman looked at Ivar in confusion and Ivar waved politely before he sat at your table.

‘So are we starting with math first?’

‘Hell no, tell me about the man with no eyes.’ you said bluntly.

‘I don’t know much, man doesn’t like being in the public eye. Got rich through genius investments but he seems to come from old money despite the fact that no information on his family is available. My father said he was one of his first clients.

‘So it's not like he just time traveled to get here, he’s well established. Covered in mystery but still real, does that mean he’s been alive this whole time?’ you asked.

‘I would guess so but that doesn’t seem humanly possible.’ Ivar said back.

‘Maybe he isn’t human then, at this point we can’t afford to think too logically anymore, the new motto is if we can explain it then we can accept it.’

‘Inspirational.’ he hummed.

‘Thank you, I’m truly a poetic soul.’ you joked.

‘Yeah... there is more though, he knew too much.’

That got your attention, not because of what Ivar had said but the way he said it, like he wasn’t talking about something he’d experienced. It was as if he was talking about someone else he didn’t know.

‘What do you mean?’

‘He knew about my family, but it didn’t feel like he looked us up. He just...knew too much.’ Ivar tried to clarify.

‘What did he know?’

‘Dad was introducing us and he said this wasn’t all us...he knew two of us weren’t there and he was right. Bjorn wasn’t there and he knew about Gida...almost no one knows about Gida, Dad never talks about her except on her birthday.’

‘Who is Gida?’ you asked.

‘My sister, well half sister if you want to be politically correct. My dad’s first wife had two kids Bjorn and Gida, when his first company was just becoming successful he had to leave town a lot and on one trip he was told Gida had died of influenza.’

‘Oh my God, I’m sorry.’ you said sympathetically.

‘It’s ok, she died way before I was born, I’ve only seen a few pictures but I don’t know anything about her, but that guy did. He knew that none of us ever saw her and he knew she was sick, and I could tell that dad was surprised by him knowing.’

Now Ivar was looking off into the distance as if he himself wasn’t even here sitting at your table right now. It was as if he was mentally somewhere else, probably trying to come up with a scenario where his father would have talked about this girl named Gida.

‘Hey, calm down. We can put a pin in it for right now if you want to, I actually do need to get some of my homework done.’ you tried to comfort.

Ivar nodded and took in a deep breath and let it all out.

You actually managed to put most of your focus on stupid equations that no one would ever need in real life, but you couldn’t help but think about how hard this was all becoming now.

Ivar was in complete denial of who he must have been in his past life, anytime you brought it up he shuts down or starts bleeding. How much more proof did he need and what will he do when he can’t deny it any more?

By some miracle you finished all your assignments with mild confidence that it was at least a B+, Ivar was apparently putting all his focus on helping you.

Pretty soon it was time for the two of you to head out if you wanted to get to the hospital in time for your appointment.

The ride was uneventful, just casual talk about school and plans for next weekend; pretty much you talked about anything but the elephant in the room.

While you rode you were very proud of yourself for keeping things casual. It was as if you had pushed aside that mild panic you felt about the possibility of you having a crush on the guy next to you.

At the hospital you filled out some papers while Ivar was chatting with the lady at the desk, it was the same one from your first visit.

Her name was Helga, she was a blond woman who looked no older than twenty seven tops, but she spoke to Ivar as if she were an forty year old aunt.

‘Are you her ride home? She could be here for a while, your mother will worry.’ Helga asked.

‘Mother always does, I let her know I’d be home late if it makes you feel better.’ he assured.

‘It doesn’t.’

You felt kinda awkward interrupting to let her know you were done with the papers.

She took them and led you into an examination room where a male nurse took your vitals and gave you a gown to wear.

After a minute Dr. Finehair came in with another doctor who you had to assume was the specialist who would be conducting the study.

‘Hello Ms. (Y/N), I’m Dr. Finehair.’

You made a confused face and sent a looked between the two men.

‘My little brother, if it helps you can call him Halfdan.’ your doctor explained.

‘Don’t worry the smarter one is in charge.’ Halfdan smiled politely.

It was strange how easily his charm seemed to relax you, but you guessed as a doctor he had to have amazing bedside manners.

‘I’ve looked over all of your test results and it seems to be nothing physically with your body, other than what could be expected from an exhausted teenager.’ he said as he began placing little stickers on your temples, scalp face, chest and legs.

Both doctors were very nice and the small talk did help to pass the time while Halfdan was placing sensors on your body.

‘The main purpose of the study is to see what your brainwaves are up to when you go to sleep. If there is anything unusual then we can know what to focus on and see what tests need to be run on you. OK?’ he explained.

‘I understand, how long do I need to sleep?’

‘As long as you can, did you need any sleeping aids, I see it’s been prescribed to you.’

‘Not necessary, I’m ready to crash whenever you give me the go ahead Doc.’ you smiled.

‘Oh well don’t let me stop you, we are going to leave the room, the sensors are connected to a machine, we will monitor the room as well record video.’

‘What if I have to use the restroom? I guess I should have asked before you started.’

‘It is fine, we can disconnect you, all you have to do is let us know.’

‘Alright you are all set to go, we will leave you to it ma’am.’

The two men left and it only took you about thirty seconds to go to sleep.

******************************************************************* Ivar’s POV

The hospital was unusually quiet today, not empty by any means, but it seemed nothing horribly urgent had happened since he’d gotten here.

Every person that came in was calm and in good enough shape to explain why they were here and what they were feeling.

Of course that would be expected because this hospital was a bit out of the way, too far from the busy highways where most car accidents tend to happen.

There was also the fact that this was a very expensive hospital, with amazing security, top of the line technology and the best doctors you can get.

All of his surgeries had been done here, because on top of all those other great qualities this hospital assured each patient complete privacy. No matter who the patient was or how much money their secrets were worth.

Ivar was sitting there, in one of the uncommonly comfortable waiting room chairs, scrolling through social media on his phone when a sudden wave of lightheadedness hit him.

His vision blurred to the point where he had to sit his phone aside and shake his head in an effort to clear his head.

‘I see you Boneless.’

Ivar flinched at the sudden voice, but more than that he flinched at the name.

He looked up and what he saw was impossible, so very impossible that even the thought of it made him think that he was going mad.

There is no other explanation for what was sitting in the chair across from him.

It was himself.

His own face, slightly hidden behind a thick and graying beard, but all the same it was obviously his face. His eyes, nose and teeth...his face.

‘No.’ he breathed.

‘But yes, you wouldn’t believe what all had to be sacrificed for us to chat, and I’m sad to say that my being here is not good news.’

‘You aren’t here.’ Ivar whispered.

‘No, not really; neither are you, not completely. Neither of us can ever truly be anywhere until we are together. Until you accept that you are me, I did my part; I died...and I waited.’

‘Waited for what? For two teenagers to meet to clean up a mess you made thousands of years ago?’ he snapped angrily, barely managing to keep his voice down.

‘I didn’t want to do this, I saw no point in it. I was fully prepared to accept the punishment the Gods felt I deserved, but it wasn’t just me...and it isn’t just you. Everyone you love and care about, they are all being punished for my deeds, our deeds.’

‘Your deeds.’ Ivar spat.

‘Our...deeds.’

‘Ivar.’

This time Ivar jumped clean out of his chair, partially due to being so suddenly startled but mostly to look away from this thing with his face.

Herald was there and just the look on his face told him something was wrong; horribly wrong.

‘What happened?’

‘Helga is calling her mother now, Ivar I need you to be calm. I can see how much you care for her and I know you will worry, but losing your composure won’t help anything do you understand?’ Herald said seriously.

‘Tell me what happened.’ Ivar repeated quietly, almost certain he didn’t want the answer but he needed it all the same.

‘(Y/N) is brain dead.’

‘What? She was just here for a sleep study. What the hell happened?!’ Ivar hissed.

The hairs on the back of his neck was standing up and he couldn’t think of a time where he had been this scared.

‘We don’t know. I wouldn’t even be saying any of this to you if her mother hadn’t listed you as one of (Y/N)’s emergency contacts.’

‘Tell me!’ Ivar snapped.

Herald sighed in mild annoyance but his look remained professional.

‘Her vitals were excellent, no sleep aids were administered. Neither me or Halfdan can explain what happened, I was monitoring her on camera and he was watching her brainwaves. Out of nowhere the waves flat-line and she is seizing up.’

‘She had a seizure?’

‘Yes. A non epileptic seizure, but a seizure nonetheless; we had to risk sedating her before she hurt herself. I wish I could tell you something, anything to explain what went wrong, but I don’t know. I checked her for every physical condition I can think of as a medical doctor and there is nothing to see.’

Ivar was speechless, he didn’t know what to say, even if he did he wouldn’t trust his voice to say it without breaking.

‘When her mother arrives I will explain it to her and what happens next will be her decision.’

‘Can I see her?’ he asked softly.

‘Yes, but do not move her. We are not sure what is causing the problem and we won’t know until we can get her in a CAT scan.’

‘CAT scans, do you think it’s cancer?’ Ivar asked, his eyes wide and his heart filled with dread.

‘I can not say, even suggesting it with no test done I could lose my license. For right now I need you to keep calm while we try to figure out what exactly is happening.’

Ivar nodded in understanding, he listened to the room number and made his way there; all the while thinking about everything.

He thought about the imaginary creature that spoke to him in the waiting room.

“My being here is not good news” that’s what he said and he was right.

He remembered when he had first met her in the hallway; he couldn’t stop thinking about her in class, when he saw her at the table with his brothers he was happy to see her. Even happier that he liked her and saw her as a great friend.

A friend was something he’d never had before and he had thought this was why he wanted to keep her so close, but it wasn’t.

Ivar knew that now, he wouldn’t be this worried and concerned for a friend.

He loved (Y/N), he loved her and right now she was brain dead because of the actions of a dead man.

Because of his actions.

[cowboy-anon]

Weston’s Wild West Whump - 2

I DID IT! I FINISHED IT. Holy cow. XD Anyway, it’s a bit of a longer piece. Today, we learn a bit more about Weston, we’re introduced to Graham’s men Dee and Sunders, and we discover Graham is not someone you want to mess with. Enjoy! :D

CW : Animal corpse used as a metaphor, bribery mention, broken bones (and the symptoms that accompany them), concussion, cowboy shenanigans, gun mention and threat (not real), hogtie threat (not yet realized), knife mention, mild cursing, somewhat degrading language, thieving mention, touch of low self esteem, vaguely implied unsafe home life.

(I’m new to content warnings, so if I’ve missed something, please don’t hesitate to let me know! :D )

Tagging: @milk-carton-whump, @unicornscotty, @abitefullofwhump, @alliecat5594, @ihaveacrushonjester (Let me know if you want to be added or removed from this list!

2 - Good Ol’ Righteous Cowboy

Weston has only met Graham twice before this. Once, last week when he came to investigate the ranch’s missing cattle. “Sheriff Graham Miller,” he’d introduced himself. The way he’d carried himself, charming and self-assured, Weston was sure the culprit would get theirs, and if Johnson was lucky, he’d get his cattle back before Weston moved on.

And then Weston found that handkerchief caught on the barbed wire fence, “G.M.” embroidered on it in a stunning shade of blue. As far as leads went, it was pretty thin, but that blue thread and those initials—there was no way it could be a coincidence.  

Which is what led him to his second encounter, dressed in Johnson’s clothes, pretending to be a wealthy man in search of some cattle for his father’s failing ranch. Of course, Weston was nowhere near wealthy, and his father’s ranch, he’d remembered with a shudder, was doing just fine, but wearing Johnson’s Sunday best, he sure as hell looked the part. 

But with Graham being the one to show him around, he could only see so much. Weston was walked past rolling pastures and prize-winning cattle, sure, but no proof. 

Which is what led him to his final attempt at getting it, not exactly a third encounter but one that led to it—this one—kneeling in front of two of Graham’s men, a lasso tight around his middle and with his right ankle throbbing painfully with every heartbeat. 

Despite their lack of history, when one of Graham’s men pistol whips him across the face, it feels strangely personal. Weston can feel the malice, sees the satisfaction on the left’s face when his own snaps sharply to the right. The shock of it almost overwhelms the burn. Almost.

Weston stays there for a second, hunched over with his eyes squeezed shut, reminding himself to breathe, letting out a pained groan instead. Another breath, this time bracing. He shakes off the stinging pain and rights himself with a tight lipped smile. 

His tongue darts out over his bottom lip, tastes blood. Yeah, he’s sporting a split lip now. He winces at the pain, more an ache than a burn now, and blinks back involuntary tears. 

When Weston raises his eyes again, the man has his revolver in hand, arm pulled back to strike him again. God, he hates to admit it, but he flinches, tucking his face into his shoulder, waiting for the blow.

He hears the grunt of effort, expects his view to whip right again in a burst of pain when he hears, “Stop playing with him, Dee. Get his legs.” When Weston doesn’t feel the strike, he allows himself a glance in the direction of the voice. 

It’s the man on the right, face stony with purpose. 

The man on the left, “Dee” Weston assumes, shoots the man a venomous glare, then turns to look at Graham, who’s digging into the saddle bag of one of the horses. 

Graham’s not paying attention when the butt of the gun slams into Weston’s temple. 

Weston hits the ground hard, landing heavily on his shoulder, cheek pressed into hot rocky dirt. His head, oh God. He gasps against the blinding pain, eyes skewed shut as he gapes like a fish out of water. 

“Dee.” Between the ringing in his ears and his ragged breaths, he hears it, a low reprimand but not a surprised one. 

Weston forces his eyes open to look at the two men now looming over him, but he ends up shutting them again. When did the sun get so damn bright? 

“You wanted me to get his feet, Sunders.” Sunders. That’s got to be the other man’s name. And—wait, they’re still talking. Focus, Weston, focus! “ —think he was gonna let us tie him up that easy? Graham likes Randy clueless. The sooner he’s tied up, the less questions we gotta answer. Get me?” 

Randy? Who the hell’s Randy? 

Weston lies there for what feels like ages before the more important thoughts make their way back to him. Graham’s here. Dee and Sunders, they’re going to tie him up. His ankle’s shot, he’s got that lasso around him that’s not going to let him go anywhere. 

And all three of them are armed. Great. 

Weston worms his arm out from under him and eases himself up until he’s propped on an elbow. For a moment, the world spins. Forget cotton. His head’s full of sloshing water, distorting and disorienting and all too heavy for what it is. 

He wants to lie back down, let whatever’s going to happen happen. He’ll feel those ropes dig into the tender skin of his wrists and bite into his swelling ankle. Will they make him walk? No, not with a hogtie. He’ll more likely be draped over the back of a horse and taken back to the ranch, where— 

Where what? Who knows what’ll happen back at that ranch? And what the hell is he thinking, lying back down and giving in? He shakes his head with a sneer. If he’s going to that no good sheriff’s ranch, he’s going angry, not complacent. 

So he pushes himself up until he’s sitting again, lightheadedness be damned, and squinting at Graham’s back, legs stretched out in front of him, he calls, “You needed three guys to get a hold of me, Graham?” It comes out a groan, nowhere near as snarky as he wants it to be, but it’s dripping with sarcasm nonetheless—and based on the smile that sneaks over the sheriff’s face, it catches his attention. “Why, I’m flattered. ‘Course, I probably should’ve expected as much.”

Dee’s at eye level in an instant. He grabs a fistful of Weston’s shirt and jerks him forward, lips curled up in a snarl. “Why, you—” 

But Graham just laughs from his spot by the horses. 

Dee’s eyes, still shining with murder, flicker with confusion, and Weston’s gaze snaps over to Graham, doubled over with warm, genuine laughter. What the hell?

The grip on Weston’s shirt wavers as the seconds tick by. Finally, Weston clears his throat and says, “Sure, I find your stupidity funny, too, but—” 

Graham’s gun is trained on him before he can finish. 

“Dee,” Graham says, motioning with his revolver. It’s a command. Dee barely spares Weston a smug grin before pulling his hands from Weston’s clothes and stepping into place between Graham and Sunders.

Graham squares his shoulders and, accent thicker than Weston’s ever heard it, he says, “What’s funny is you talking about stupidity.” 

Weston knows he should be scared, and he is. He feels it, unadulterated fear, making its way to his shaking fingers, twisting knots deep in his stomach, watching him stare down the blackened barrel of this gun, telling him, Give up, give in. Maybe he’ll let you walk away. 

It’s so damn tempting.

But Weston has already given in to too many people like Graham with the promise of walking away too many times, so despite everything, he balls his trembling hands into fists, meets Graham’s eyes with a pained smirk, and says, “Please, do tell.” 

Graham grins. 

“Good ol’ righteous Weston Casey.” He shrugs past Dee and Sunders and makes his way towards Weston, digits lazily fingering his gun’s trigger, blue eyes scanning him and the barely concealed shock on his face. “Yeah, I’ve heard about you. Hardworking, dependable, new in town. You rolled on in here just last month, didn’t you?”

Weston doesn’t answer. Instead, he changes the subject. “What do you mean, ‘righteous’?” 

Graham stops by Weston’s feet and sits back on his haunches, eyes trailing idly over his body. “I mean your absurd morals,” he says. “I’d heard about it before, but I saw it clear as day when I came to Johnson’s ranch yesterday. You were angry for him.” He laughs to himself, toying with the trigger thoughtlessly. 

But the hammer’s still standing tall by the frame, not pulled back. So the gun’s not cocked yet. It never was. That’s good news. 

“It’s a damn shame,” Graham continues. He’s looking at Weston’s face again, a tiny knowing smile on his lips. Did Weston’s realization show? “The bribe I would’ve paid you—beyond generous. Not that you would’ve taken it.”

“What’s this got to do with stupidity?” Weston cuts in. He’s stalling at this point, he knows it, but he needs something—anything—to distract him from the fear bubbling just beneath his surface. 

“Well, we’re talking about you, aren’t we?” Another flick over the trigger as Graham’s tone shifts, almost amused. “A good, quiet stranger rolls into town, surely minding his own business when something not quite right goes down. A few cows go missing. Nothing special, nothing new. Cattle go missing all the time around these parts. But being him, he decides he wants to investigate.” 

Graham’s voice darkens then. Weston forces himself to be still under Graham’s scrutiny as his eyes travel over his left leg, then to his right. Then to his right ankle, swelling like a cow’s carcass in the summer sun under his jeans. “And he finds out a little too much,” Graham continues. “And he gets in a little too deep. And he decides he wants to do the right thing. Which, in itself, is not a stupid thought.” Graham glances back up at Weston. “But his—your—morals, they get in the way of some really great opportunities. A guy like you would fit into this cattle rustling operation real well.” 

At that, Dee’s expression visibly sours behind Graham, but he stays quiet. Smart or scared?

“I know you won’t take the bribe,” Graham says lowly, “but how about a fair trade? Your work for my money, plain and simple.”  

Weston scoffs to himself. His heart is in his throat pounding so loud he can hear it, but it’s not even a question. He meets Graham’s eyes through his mop of hair and says, “Over my dead body.” 

He means it. 

Graham stares at him, and for a second Weston thinks he might burst out laughing again. But he just smiles, more to himself than Weston, seemingly thinking something over. 

He tucks his gun back into his holster, shoots Weston a big grin. And then his gloved hands shoot out and twist his right foot hard.

Weston’s broken bones in the past. He’s felt that wet snap of the initial break. He’s felt the numb shock before his brain catches up with his body. He’s felt that nauseating pain that accompanies every jostle and movement of the site.

But he’s never felt anything like this.

Weston shrieks, white hot blinding, agonizing pain that he feels all the way to his fingertips in sharp, involuntary spasms. Overwhelming, all encompassing. In this moment, Weston is pain. 

Too much, too much, too much! It’s blaring in his head like a siren, that fear. His face goes hot, then cold. Tears run down his cheeks, but he’s too focused on gritting his teeth against another wail to care.

“See, I gave you a chance just then,” Graham says over his cries. “I offered you a job, nice and respectable like, and you turned it down—and for what?” He leans in close to Weston, a hand still twisted in the fabric of his pant leg. “A few meaningless morals? If you ask me, that’s awful stupid of you.”

Graham wrenches his ankle again, and even though Weston knows what to expect, it’s just as awful as the first time—worse even. Bone grinding on bone, leather on swollen, hypersensitive, hot-to-the-touch flesh. 

He throws his head back with a broken sob. “G-Graham—!” Weston doesn’t know why he says that. He doesn’t even realize it’s him saying it, not in his current state, concussed and half delirious with pain. 

But he definitely hears “Yes, Weston?” through the haze, barely registers Graham’s hand leaving his leg. 

The twisting’s stopped, Weston knows it, but the pain hasn’t. He still feels it, twisting, twisting, the rough seams of Graham’s leather gloves on swollen skin. And he feels dread, prominent, telling him this isn’t the worst to come, not by a long shot, that only makes it hurt worse.

He hasn’t felt a dread like this since his last month at the family ranch.

As the worst of the pain melts from his limbs, just enough for it to be bearable,  his wits start to come back to him, and it occurs to him that he cried out Graham’s name in an agony-induced panic. Then Graham had asked him a question: “Yes, Weston?” His stomach drops at the thought. 

What had he been looking to say? Would he have begged? “G-Graham, please stop! Please!” Or would he have bargained? “G-Graham, I won’t tell a soul, I swear!” Maybe, Weston realizes with a thick swallow, he would’ve accepted Graham’s terrible offer, helping steal cattle for the man he’s grown to hate in the last twenty-four hours to save himself. “G-Graham, I… I’ll do it.”

Graham had called him righteous.

Weston is a coward. 

“Weston, you wanted to say something to me?” Graham is grinning, blue eyes glimmering with mirth. He wants to know what he was going to say just as much as Weston does.

Weston stares at his feet. His ankle is back to that constant throb, but the muscles in his foot and calf are still twitching and seizing from Graham’s rough hands. “Yeah, I did,” he says quietly. “I wanted to tell you, ‘Graham…’”  

He shakes his head, sets his jaw, meets Graham’s eyes with a steely gaze. And then he spits at him, fueled by what little fight he has left, “‘Graham, get your damn hands off of me.’”

Righteous. Coward. 

Liar.

Graham stares at him for a long moment before rising to his feet, that stupid smug grin still on his face when he looks back down at him. 

“I like you, Weston. I really do,” he says, vaguely apologetic, “and you’ve made a lot of stupid decisions today that I could forgive you for. But that decision you made just now, making an enemy out of me? Real stupid.” 

Graham turns on his heel and shoulders his way past Dee and Sunders again, only this time he stops between them and, in a voice just loud enough for Weston to hear, he says to them, “Now, I know I told you two to get him trussed up.” The look Graham gives Weston is chilling. “So tell me, what’s he still doing with his hands free?” Graham casts a final glance at Weston before Dee and Sunders make their way towards him for the second time.

This time, they don’t hesitate. Sunders pockets his knife, walks behind Weston, and tugs his arms behind his back, holding them together by the wrists. “Grab the rope from my horse, Dee,” he calls.

But Dee is standing by Weston’s feet, smiling a malicious smile. “His legs first,” Dee says. 

Weston can’t see Sunders’s face, but he can hear the exasperation in his voice from behind him when he replies, “There’s no way he’s going anywhere on that ankle now.”

“I know that.” Dee crouches down by Weston’s feet, eyes running down the length of his right leg. “But I want to start with his legs.”

Sunders sighs and drops Weston’s arms back to his sides, already aching at the joints from the position. 

“I’ll hold him down.” 

Sunders takes his spot next to Dee and puts pressure on Weston’s thighs, holding him still while Dee goes for Sunders’s rope. If Weston didn’t know better, he’d think they were trying to help him. 

But he does know better, and he knows their intentions are anything but pure. 

He could shove them off, Weston realizes from his spot on the ground. He could, and if he tried, he could get a good solid kick on Dee when he gets back if he uses his left leg. He’d sure as hell deserve it.

But watching Dee take his place by his feet again, Weston doesn’t. Smart or scared, righteous or cowardly—Weston doesn’t know anymore.  He just glares at Dee. 

Dee smiles back at him. “You got him, Sunders?”

“I’ve got him.”

“Good.”

Dee feels the rope in his hands, tests its strength with a few sharp pulls. Then he turns to look at Graham. 

Graham nods at him from by the horses. 

When Dee turns back to Weston, he’s grinning from ear to ear, eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“I’m gonna enjoy this.”

[alj4890]

Delicate

(Ethan Ramsey x Olivia Nevarkis) (Olivia Nevarkis x Drake Walker) in a Choices The Royal Romance/Open Heart Crackship Series

A/N This is the finale to this miniseries. Thanks so much for indulging me in this crackship of mine. Hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did imagining it💗

@jooous​ ​ ​ @krsnlove​ ​ @nomadics-stuff​ ​   @twinkleallnight​ ​ @motorcitymademadame​ ​

Masterlist

Part 6

December 30th, Cordonia's Royal Palace...

Tomorrow night’s event might be the first ball in the history of Drake's years in Cordonia to actually cause a certain excitement. He usually put up with the pomp and traditions to simply be with those he cared about. For years it was to support Liam, then going meant he could hang out with Riley, Hana, and Maxwell.

And then there were his activities down in secret for a year with Olivia.

He knew she would be arriving soon. Her absence from Cordonia had been one he felt more acutely than any other. His failure in telling her how he felt about her, his inability to have a civil conversation, even his voicemail had kept him fixated on this date.

He intended for this new year to involve a new relationship with Olivia. He simply needed to find a moment alone with her.

Which as he entered the drawing room Riley and Liam used frequently for their closest friends, he realized that was going to be more difficult than he originally thought. All their friends had come home for the ball.

"I can't believe they gave us that ridiculous moniker." Thomas shook his head.

"The press isn't always known for their intelligence." Liam said, fighting a smile.

"Thomanda." Amanda laughed just saying it. "It sounds like some weird foot fungus cream."

"The press have had five years to come up with anything better than that." Thomas wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders. "They should have combined our last names. Brunt is more tolerable than Thomanda."

Maxwell rolled off the couch laughing. "We now have to come up with crazy couple names for all of us."

"We were given Riam." Riley replied. "Personally I prefer Liley, but Riam stuck."

"Naxwell or Madia." Amanda said between giggles while pointing at Maxwell and Nadia. "That's your couple name."

"Naxwell sounds like a snack cake or cookie." Riley added with a chuckle.

"We are sweet." Maxwell responded, cuddling Nadia close.

Hana sighed at seeing them all so happy together. "What would mine and Rashad's be?"

"Rashana?" Riley offered.

"Oh I like that so much better than what I thought." Amanda laughed. "I at first thought Hahad."

The group burst into laughter while more couple names were bandied about.

"So what do we dub Olivia and Ethan?" Liam asked.

"Ethalivia?" Hana offered.

"Olithan?" Maxwell added.

"Oooh! Olithan!" Riley exclaimed. "Sounds like a sea monster. Olivia will love it!"

Drake tried to ignore what was being said as he joined them.

Maxwell noticed his frown and immediately changed the subject.

"Hey," he said over the lingering chuckles. "What's everyone's resolutions going to be?"

"Get married." Rashad grinned at Hana.

"That's your plans for next week." Maxwell winked at them. "What are you going to resolve to do this new year?"

"Spend time with my husband." Hana replied with a slight blush.

"I think more time with our significant others is what we will all resolve to do." Liam added.

Drake bit back a bitter retort. At least they knew they would have their significant others. He was praying for a chance to talk to his.

********************

Olivia stood in front of the mirror one last time to check her reflection. It was strange to see the same old features once more in the all too familiar guest room when she felt so changed. Stepping off the plane and seeing Cordonia's capital didn't affect her like it once did. Somewhere, somehow, she had moved on past the pride of her title and country.

She still loved her home, but she now knew she was capable of so much more than merely being the Duchess of Lythikos. She wondered if the changes would be visible to anyone else. If no one noticed it, she at least had proved it to herself.

Her gaze left her reflection to focus on Ethan finishing dressing. Her lips curved at the red shirt he had pulled on with his black slacks.

She wondered if he knew he had chosen to wear her house colors.

He glanced up and noticed her staring.

"Is this the wrong thing to wear to dinner tonight?" He asked.

"No." She walked over to him.

Ethan paused in buttoning his shirt when she looped her arms around his neck.

"What made you choose this shirt?" She asked, threading her fingers in his hair.

His lips curved as they brushed her cheek. "Thomas told me about ways we men can show our support for our noble ladies." He tugged her closer. "I thought I should start out as I intend to for my fiancée."

Olivia cupped his cheek with her left hand, her eyes darting toward the sparkling proof that she was marrying the man that held her. Their lips met in a tender kiss that made her want to forget about joining anyone else and simply stay here alone with him.

"Shouldn't we hurry?" Ethan asked when she began to toy with the buttons of his shirt.

His hands moved along her back, searching for her zipper.

"We should." She pressed another kiss to his lips before easing back.

Her smile was warm as she admired him. "Red is a good color on you."

"As long as you approve." He finished buttoning his shirt.

Olivia handed him his tie he had set out earlier.

He looped it around her waist and used it to pull her close.

"Doctor?" She chided. "You have a king and queen waiting to welcome you."

"I think you know who I think deserves my attention." He leaned his forehead against hers. "Are we telling everyone tonight?"

"About our engagement?" Olivia asked.

Ethan nodded. "I want you to have all the excitement and whatever they do here to celebrate when a duchess gets engaged."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't need a ball, Ethan."

Her heart softened once more when he whispered he wanted to give her everything she deserved.

"We can tell them," her breath hitched when she felt his mouth against that special spot under her ear, "if you want to."

"I want to." He muttered against her skin. "I want everyone to know we are together." He lifted his head and smiled at her. "I want them to see how proud I am that you chose me to marry."

"Ethan." Her frown firmed. "Don't you dare make me emotional right now when I'm about to see everyone."

He chuckled as he let her go. "Very well, duchess. I'll behave."

She hmphed while returning to the mirror to retouch her lipstick.

Once they were both deemed presentable, they left their chambers and gathered Naveen to take downstairs.

****************

While the buzz of conversations filled the room, Drake escaped to the wet bar.

"Would you mind pouring me a glass of the Pinot Noir?" Regina asked, joining him.

"Yes mam."

She cleared her throat. "Sir Drake, I--"

"Just Drake, mam." He reminded her.

She smiled at his insistence she not use any honorific. "Drake, is something wrong?"

He handed her a wine glass. "No mam." He poured the wine for her. "Why do you ask?"

"You seem a touch distracted."

"I do?"

She chuckled. "Yes. Usually by this time you would have called a halt to all the talk of weddings and romantic, as you call it, nonsense."

A hint of a smile appeared on his face. "I guess I've been tuning them out tonight."

"I see." She patted his arm. "I'll leave you to your thoughts then."

He straightened up when Olivia stepped into the room, flanked by Ethan and the other doctor Drake had yet to meet.

The older of the two men had a friendly smile on his face that disappeared when he saw Regina.

"Gin?" Delight flooded his surprised facial expression. "Is it really you?"

Everyone looked back and forth between the Queen Mother and Naveen.

"Did he just call Regina, Gin?" Riley whispered.

"I've never heard anyone call her that." Liam whispered back.

Regina had her hand pressed to her heart. "Naveen! You're the Dr. Banerji Lady Olivia talked about?!"

Naveen met her in the middle of the room, his hands taking hers.

"What is going on?" Olivia whispered.

"I haven't got a clue." Ethan whispered back. "Naveen did a fellowship here when he was fresh out of medical school. Maybe, the two met during that time."

"It seems they did more than meet." Olivia pointed out.

"After all these years," Naveen said, "You are still just as beautiful as when we met."

Regina's blush and almost girlish laughter made everyone eager to hear more.

"We both know that is not true." Regina replied with an elegant wave of dismissal.

Naveen's smile grew when he felt her squeeze his hand.

Remembering their audience, the two let go of one another.

"You two know each other?" Riley asked, loving their flustered states.

"We met when I first came to Cordonia." Naveen explained. His gaze softened on the Queen Mother. "I didn't know my way around and had gotten horribly lost when a lovely young woman pulled up in a convertible and took pity on me."

"In a convertible, huh?" Maxwell was already imagining a young Regina with her blonde hair blowing in the breeze as she pulled over to help a young, handsome doctor. "Then what happened?"

Regina's blush grew. "I offered to drive him back to the house he had rented and one thing led to another and we--"

"I begged her to be my tour guide during my stay." Naveen explained to keep her from having to reveal too much. "It ended up being the best summer of my life."

She shook her head while smiling. "It was the last time I was ever able to be free to do and act as I wanted."

"What happened, mam, that changed all that?" Hana asked. "

"My first official social season began that fall. Adelaide was being courted by Godfrey and my parents insisted I do all I could to put our family in the best light possible so that an arrangement could be made between the two." A brief sadness passed over her. "Once that started, I was sent from one house party to the next then began a tour through Europe on diplomatic endeavors. Before I knew it, two years had gone by and Naveen had left Cordonia by the time I returned."

The older doctor grimaced. "I had been accepted to Edenbrook and was unable to find Gin to tell her."

Ethan quietly studied Naveen, wondering if this was why his mentor had never married.

"Well, now you two can catch up," Nadia encouraged. "Without worry of having to part."

Regina didn't bother to hide her happiness at that thought. "I would love that."

"So would I." Naveen added.

******************

Once all the introductions were made, the group fell into smaller ones to talk.

Keeping mostly to himself on the other side of the room, Drake couldn't take his eyes off Olivia. She seemed so different than the last time she had been in Cordonia. Not just in appearance, but there was something else there he couldn't quite identify.

She had left her hair down in loose curls. He couldn't recall when he had seen her do that here. He had once heard her say that her hair down could be used against her if an enemy were to attack.

She must have lost that worry.

Olivia almost appeared more approachable. Her smirk didn't hold the same bite it used to. She listened without too much sarcasm to the conversations going on around her.

She looks soft.

Drake took another gulp of his drink. Where had that thought come from? Olivia Nevarkis was many things, but soft? Impossible.

He noticed that Ethan remained close to her. The little touches going on between them irritated Drake. Ethan would occasionally touch her back when turning to say something to her. Olivia would respond in kind. He would brush a lock of hair over her shoulder. She would place her hand on his arm when pointing out something.

All innocent, yet all given with hidden meanings.

The smiles they shared. The heated glances. The--

A sparkle on Olivia's hand caught his attention.

No, it can't be--

"I have an announcement." Olivia raised her voice. "I wanted you all to be the first ones to know."

Drake felt his insides go numb as if his body knew the pain that was about to happen and wanted to try and spare him.

"Ethan asked me to marry him." Olivia looked up at her doctor. Her smile, so unlike any in Cordonia had seen, was tender and full of affection. "And I said, yes."

Everyone spoke at once their delight and rushed to hug and congratulate the couple.

All that is except Drake.

His empty glass slipped through his fingers and thudded softly on the floor.

Did she listen to my message? Did she decide to not give me a chance to apologize in person? Why would she choose him without first seeing what we could have?

Maxwell slipped away from the laughter and teasing of Team Olithan. Swiping up his friend's glass, he placed an arm along Drake's shoulders and led him back to the bar.

"She didn't give me a chance." He muttered to Maxwell. "I told her I wanted to try and she instead picks that doctor. She didn't bother to even say she didn't want me."

Maxwell poured him a strong one and handed it off. "I know." He sighed softly. "I'm sorry, Drake."

Drake downed the contents, poured another, then after it was gone he drank one more that was filled to the brim. "Don't be." He slammed the empty glass down. "If you have to feel sorry for anyone, feel it for Ramsey." He jerked his chin toward the couple. "He's the one stuck with her."

"Drake, I think you should still try to talk--"

"No thanks." Drake snapped. "What’s left to say?" He shrugged. "I dodged a bullet."

Maxwell gave up arguing. He didn't know what to do as Drake became angrier.

"Better go give my congratulations." He grumbled while making his way across the room.

"We'll announce your engagement at the ball." Liam told the couple. He pressed a kiss to Olivia's cheek and shook Ethan's hand. "May you both find the same happiness I found with Riley."

"I need details!" Riley exclaimed "When and where did this happen? How did you propose?"

Olivia chuckled. "Ethan asked me at his father's home when we went to spend Christmas there."

"How sweet!" Hana exclaimed. "We can start planning your wedding while we are all together."

Olivia's friends began to talk over one another to give possible opinions of wedding venues and dates for the ceremony.

Only Ethan noticed the tension forming in Olivia's body. He soon saw the reason for it approaching.

"Congratulations." Drake said.

"Thank you." Ethan answered when Olivia instinctively stepped closer to his side. "I'm still surprised she said yes." He smiled down at her.

"You shouldn't be." Olivia told him.

"Liv's right, Ramsey. You shouldn't be surprised. Give yourself another day or two and you'll see why." Drake drawled. "The only thing nobles aspire to around here is marriage."

"Drake." Liam admonished.

"What? Isn't that all that was thumped into your heads as children? Even Hana admitted to being trained from a little girl on up on how to catch a husband." He continued.

Hana's cheeks burned as she averted her eyes from everyone.

"Of course, Olivia wasn't so fortunate when it came to knowing how to catch a husband, was she?" Drake smirked at her. "Her mother died before she could begin the training. Guess it was a good thing she went ahead and married you off to a terrorist, huh?"

"That's enough." Ethan warned. "You're intoxicated and should go to your room and sleep it off."

"Is that your medical opinion, Doc?" Drake narrowed his eyes at him. "Or is it you're worried I'll say something to embarrass you and your --"

"Excuse us." Olivia wrapped her fingers around Drake's arm, making sure to dig her nails into the tender flesh under his arm. "Walker and I need to clear something up."

She yanked him towards a door that led out into a small courtyard.

He wrenched his arm from her once they reached a nearby fountain.

"What in the hell was that?" She snapped.

"What?" He taunted when she merely glared at him. "Couldn't take the truth, Libby? Or are you worried that your doc can't?"

"In there," she hissed, "is the man who actually defended you to me after our last fight."

"Did he?" Drake folded his arms. "How endearing."

"Ethan is the man I want." She stated. "Whether you can accept that or not is your problem. It is not going to be mine!" Her narrowed eyes held his own. "I personally don't know if you and I can be friends after everything that has happened. I was going to try and at least be pleasant around you, but your little act in there has made it impossible."

"Who cares?" He muttered. "You didn't care about how I would feel after I ripped my heart out and laid it at your feet just so that you could waltz back home with your new love."

"You already knew my choice!" She shouted. "You saw how much he meant to me in Boston. I told you there was nothing between me and you and yet you stand here and show the world once again what a jackass you are." Her breathing was accelerated as she tried to calm down. "This is why you and I never had a chance. There's too much resentment from years of the two of us fighting."

"There wouldn't be if you had given me a chance." He told her. "Some time to try and be what you wanted. Instead you accept the first marriage proposal you ever got."

"I ACCEPTED BECAUSE I AM IN LOVE WITH ETHAN!" She raised a trembling hand to her head, completely frustrated with his refusal to give up. "He makes me feel a way I never thought possible."

"I don't want to hear about your sex life." Drake snapped.

"I'm not talking about that!" She shoved Drake away from her. "I'm talking about how he makes me feel as if I am the most important person in the world. He actually respects me. Cares about my opinions--"

"Clearly a glutton for punishment." Drake drily remarked.

Olivia gave up trying to explain. Using moves she hadn't had to in her months away, she swept Drake's legs out from under him, sending him tumbling backwards into the water fountain.

His head shot up, coughing and sputtering water out of his mouth and nose. "What the hell was that?!"

"That is the end of this discussion." She stated in a monotone voice. "I'm marrying Ethan. I'm going to have my own happily ever after. I expect you to keep your distance from now on. We might share the same group of friends, but you and I are nothing." Her green eyes flashed a warning. "We aren't friends, acquaintances, or even enemies." She stepped away from him. "Because I respect my enemies, but you, I can't even find the energy to be disgusted with you right now."

"Olivia, wait--" he tried to get out of the fountain and chase after her. "I--"

She walked back inside and quietly shut the door, as if he hadn't been speaking at all.

*****************

The next few months flew by. Hana and Rashad's wedding was deemed the perfect way to start a new year. Cordonia's research hospital had it's ribbon cutting ceremony a week later with both the press and nobles exclaiming over the state of the art facility. Under Naveen, Ethan, and Olivia's management, patients were being treated by some of the best physicians from around the world.

Word soon spread and numerous medical journals did pieces on the findings and styles of treatments given there. In every interview, Ethan gave Olivia the credit for everything that they were accomplishing, reminding the world that it had been her idea in the first place to create such a hospital.

She didn't think she could love him more than she already did until he did that, once more helping heal her Nevarkis reputation. It had been a long time since she had wished for a knight in shining armor to come along and fight for her, and here he was, fighting along the battlefields of the press that she had always felt at a loss over.

While Olivia balanced her duchess duties and those at the hospital, she planned her wedding. Ethan, no matter how exhausted he was, would stay up late giving his opinion on the party size and location. The two became even closer to one another as they discussed their life together, the possibility of children, and the roles they were playing in both the medical society and the nobility.

They decided on an intimate ceremony in one of Lythikos's oldest chapels. Liam was to conduct it, with Olivia requesting Amanda as her matron of honor and a very pregnant Riley and Hana as bridesmaids. The two mothers' to be cried together over the sweetness of it all from the moment they were asked until Ethan kissed his bride.

Ethan asked Naveen to be his best man and Thomas as a groomsman. He and the director had only grown closer in friendship as the ladies they were committed to spent so much time together. Thomas was helping him learn how to balance his future duties of Duke of Lythikos along with his chosen career. He reassured him that he could indeed have it all and be content.

Needing one more groomsman, Ethan left that choice to Olivia. Maxwell volunteered, to help take the pressure off of her, and was soon fitted for a new tux.

Drake never received an invitation.

He had tried to apologize. He even cornered her before she left the palace for Lythikos and managed to sound sincere, but it was no use. She was done with having him in her life. There was no anger. No sadness. Nothing. Just like she had told him.

He knew it was his own fault. All of it was. Somehow he had ruined what could have ended up being the best thing in his life. Seeing how Olivia was in love and knowing it could have been him on the receiving end, it hurt worse than any insult she could ever give.

He should be happy he wasn't invited to the ceremony. It was a mercy, whether she meant it as such or not. Seeing her dressed as a bride and saying her vows to another man would have been beyond his ability to calmly accept.

So he did what anyone would do the day of their love's wedding to another.

He left Cordonia for America.

Drake decided he would stay away for an indefinite period of time. Liam had Riley by his side so he wouldn't feel guilty over abandoning him. All of their friends were happily settled with their significant others. He was finally free to see what his life could be without nobles and putting Liam first.

A few years went by. During this time, babies were born. Drake had sent handmade rocking horses to Hana and Riley when he received the news of their sons' births. He next was picking wedding gifts for Maxwell and Nadia and then, to his great shock, one to Regina and Naveen. More babies were born, including word of Olivia and Ethan having a daughter.

That text from Maxwell had left him feeling a loss be hadn't thought of.

Drake decided to test the waters and start dating again. He thought this would be a chance to see what he really wanted from a potential spouse. Nothing too serious ever came from these attempts, but they did help slowly ease his heartache.

He would get the occasional visit from those he had left back in Cordonia. Phone calls and texts were a normal, everyday occurrence. Then one day, Savannah found out she was pregnant again and asked him to come for a nice long visit to Ramsford.

The moment he stepped off the plane and caught the hint of apple blossoms in the air, he knew this would always be home. He closed his eyes and simply let the feeling wash over him that this was where he was meant to be, where he was always meant to be.

He decided to stop and see Liam and Riley on his way to Ramsford. The couple were with their children at Valtoria along with some of their other friends.

Including Olivia and Ethan.

When Drake stepped out of the car, he could hear the laughter and squeals of young children playing out back. He went down a gravel path lined with lilies, only stopping at the sight before him.

Children, five years old and under, were chasing each other all over an area that would put most playgrounds to shame. Slides, climbing walls, bridges, jungle gyms, everything a child could want covered two acres of land.

He was able to identify most of the children without much thought. He had received tons of pictures through Christmas cards and texts, but he didn't need them to know who belonged to whom.

Liam's two sons with their golden hair shining in the sunlight were easily picked out. The little princes were soon joined by a boy that could only belong to Hana.

He then noticed two little girls that looked exactly like their mothers once had so many years ago. The dark haired one was clearly Thomas and Amanda's. And just like her mother had done at her age, the little girl was playing with another who had the richest set of red hair Drake had ever seen.

The three year old looked like she had been fashioned in Olivia's very image. Even her green eyes could narrow in an all too familiar irritation when the boys' rough housing got too close to where she was playing.

And just like her mother, her smile blossomed when she saw her father walking over.

Ethan leaned down to pick her up. His own smile was bright as he spoke to his daughter.

Whatever was said had the little girl eagerly nodding her agreement.

"Drake?"

He turned to see Olivia staring at him in surprise.

"Hey, Liv." He greeted.

"What are you doing here?"

"Savannah asked me to come for a visit." He explained.

"Ah." She placed her hand on her baby bump when another kick happened. "How have you been?"

"Good." He motioned toward her belly. "Boy or girl?"

"We don't know." She smiled down at her stomach. "Just like with Erin, Ethan and I decided we want to be surprised."

"Congratulations." He said sincerely. "I know you always wanted a family." He looked back toward where her little girl was. "Looks like you and Ethan know what you're doing."

"I think we do." She finally smiled at him.

"I'm happy for you." He managed to say and realized that it was true. If he couldn't be the one she ended up with, at least she had gotten what she wanted most out of life.

"Thank you." She stepped around him and continued toward the play area.

Ethan had been watching for her and began to make his way over to help her down the slope safely. She paused, knowing he would only worry if she tried to go down it on her own.

"Drake?"

"Yes, Olivia?"

"It's good to see you again." She smiled once more at him then went on and took her husband's arm.

Drake watched as Ethan tenderly brushed a kiss to her temple. The two laughed at their daughter having had enough of the boys' antics and chasing after them to give them a piece of of her mind.

As he stood there alone, he realized that though there was a faint echo of what could have been, he was finally able to watch them without it hurting.

[imaginedhaven]

Reluctantly Rooming: Part Six

Link to Masterpost

I am... running low on prompts for this! I have one really good one I think I’m going to explore for part seven, and then a few more that go really well together a ways further into what I think the story here is going to be, but almost nothing to tie them together. I COULD just write out that story, but I have so loved responding to your prompts and they really have driven this story to what it is. Feel free to send more my way!

This chapter uses two prompts:

“You’re on level 176.” / “Can you judge me harder?”

and

“You’ve been replaced.” / “All right, we’ll see how you feel when you need me to kill a spider in the shower.”

Enjoy!

~*~*~

“You’re on… wow, level 176. How have you not gone insane yet?”

Aelin didn’t even turn to look at the speaker, too focused on the puzzle game she was playing on her phone. “Wow, Rowan, can you judge me harder? You know I’m so very into you judging me for the things I do to stay sane when I can’t even walk.”

“Damn, Aelin, you talk that way to every guy who walks through your door?” the voice laughed.

Finally setting her phone aside, she turned and shouted happily when she saw Sam standing there instead. “Gods, I’m sorry, I lost track of the time,” she said as she rushed—or hobbled, she supposed—to hug him.

“And you’ve gotten worse at telling voices apart,” he laughed. “I guess I should be flattered, though, if you really thought I sounded like Tall, Brooding, and Handsome.”

“You’re not even into men,” she protested.

“If anyone could persuade me, it’d be him. But that’s beside the point. You seriously forgot we moved Girls and Sam day over here so you wouldn’t have to get a ride?”

Aelin grimaced. “Uh, it’s been a long week?”

Sam snorted and shook his head. “Nice try. Some of us actually had to work this week.”

“Wow, rude.” Even as she was saying it Aelin tugged him to the couch. “You’re going to have to make that up to me, you know.”

“I know,” he grinned, holding up a small paper bag.

Aelin’s eyes widened and she snatched it from his grasp, tearing it open to reveal several bars of chocolate. “Gods, I love you.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat sounded behind them, and Aelin whirled around to find Rowan coming back from his afternoon run. “You do realize there are more rooms in this house than the living room for that, right? You’ve got options that won’t traumatize your roommate.”

Aelin blinked, and then began to laugh, clutching at the cushions of the couch to keep herself relatively upright. “Oh gods, you thought… you thought we…” She couldn’t even get all of the words out.

Sam decided to take pity on her, grinning over at Rowan. “That’s ancient history. Like, sophomore year of college ancient. We’re better off as friends.”

“Best friends,” Aelin added as she began to recover, holding up the chocolates as some sort of proof of their friendship. “You’ve been replaced, Rowan. You’ll just have to live with it.”

Rowan only shrugged. “All right,” he replied. “We’ll see how you feel about that when you need me to kill a spider in the shower.” Before she could say anything he was walking up the stairs and out of earshot.

When she turned to face Sam again, he was staring at her. “He’s been in your shower?”

“What? No, not like that,” she stammered. “The spider thing was one time.”

“I’m just saying, you never let me in your shower. You like him.”

The door opened again, and Aelin breathed a sigh of relief as Lysandra saved her from having to answer. “Are we feeling wine or whiskey?” she asked. “I brought both.”

Aelin frowned. “I’m feeling like if I say yes to either a hovering overprotective buzzard will come down the stairs and tell me it interacts with my pain medication,” she called pointedly in the direction of the stairs.

Her phone buzzed with a text alert almost immediately, and she read it with a laugh. “See?” she asked, holding the phone so they could read the screen:

Said overprotective buzzard would be absolutely correct and doing you a favor.

“Wow, who texts like that?” Lysandra asked.

“He does, apparently. And he can come say it to my face if he has something to say to me!”

Sam laughed beside her. “You tell him, Aelin.”

But the man upstairs remained remarkably silent in response, and her phone didn’t alert her to any further messages, so instead Aelin hobbled over to the kitchen and brought what was left of her brownies out of their hiding place.

“Wow,” Lysandra said when she saw them. “You actually bothered to cut them?”

“It’s not like I had anything better to do,” she replied. It was true enough; she certainly hadn’t been doing much, mostly because Rowan would glare at her until she was resting again if he felt she was overexerting herself. Feeling a flare of irritation at the memory, she promptly snagged one of the squares for herself and bit into it with a happy little sigh.

“All right, so when are we going to talk about the fact that you let your hot roommate into your shower?” Sam pressed.

“Wait, you what?” Lysandra leaned in, eager for details.

Aelin whined, head dropping into her hands. “For the last time, it’s not like that,” she protested. Still, though, she couldn’t help but remember the way he’d helped her into the bath the other day, how his words had been so rough but his hands so gentle on her as he’d…

Aelin yanked her mind away from that line of thinking, hoping she wasn’t blushing but strongly suspecting she was based on the heat she could feel in her cheeks. “You’re assholes and I hate you both,” she grumbled as they both started laughing.

“Oh, Aelin, we love you too,” Lysandra grinned.

“Besides, I couldn’t think of him that way anyway. Do you want to know why I really cut the brownies? He cut one out of the middle of the pan. And I know he doesn’t eat sweets, so I don’t think he even ate it. He’s a monster.” Aelin took the opportunity while she was venting to remind herself of all the reasons such thoughts were a terrible idea. Perhaps this time it would work.

At the very least, it was enough to convince her friends to drop the subject, and she would take what she could get in that regard.

~*~*~

Rowan didn’t emerge from his room until the others had left, and even then he was even quieter than usual as he took his now-customary seat in the armchair. That in itself was odd, but when she glanced over at him she found him looking back at her with an expression she couldn’t quite place.

“Take a picture; it’ll last longer,” she quipped, knowing the best way to get him to speak would be to try to get a rise out of him.

Sure enough, it worked. “You say that as though the very image of you isn’t seared into my retinas at this point.”

“I can’t tell if that’s rude or flattering.”

“Good.”

Aelin snorted. “Gods, are you one of those people who likes to think they’re all deep and mysterious?”

Rowan laughed in reply. “I am neither deep nor mysterious, trust me. You just haven’t asked.”

“All right,” she said. “Why are you staring at me then?”

“I wouldn’t call it staring, but I was just wondering if I’ll have to deal with any more exes you’re weirdly friendly with dropping by unexpectedly.”

“Oh.” This time, Aelin knew she was blushing. “No, Sam’s… Sam’s different. And we weren’t always friendly.”

“No?”

“Gods, no. We dated years ago, like he said. He was… a different person, then. He was going through a lot, and he didn’t really know how to handle it. We were over well before he broke up with me, I think.” Aelin smiled softly as she reminisced. “After that, I think it was… three years later? We were both working by then, and we happened to get hired by the same company. He tracked me down and told me everything. We both left Rifthold together eventually, and Lysandra came with us.”

Rowan shifted in his seat to look at her properly. “I didn’t know you weren’t always in Orynth. Aedion mentioned you were from here, but not that you’d had to move back home.”

Aelin’s smile turned sad. “You never asked.” After a moment, she realized that her words sounded too close to an accusation and rushed to continue. “I mean, I never asked anything about you either. I’m not trying to blame you or anything.”

“I’m certain I would deserve it if you did,” he replied.

“Hey, that’s enough being weirdly deep for one day.” Aelin paused for a moment, thinking about her next move. “What if I asked you one question about yourself, to make us even? Then we can go back to me watching my movie and you making fun of me like we usually do.”

Rowan shrugged, but looked somewhat wary. “Fine, I suppose.”

“Okay. I’m sure you’ve told me what you actually do for a living, or Aedion has, but I can never remember. So what is it?”

Her question was met with laughter, but his green eyes shone with relief. “That’s seriously what you want to know?”

“It’ll do for now.”

“Fine. I’m an editor. This whole time, and every time you’ve seen me working out here, I’ve been reading someone else’s book—or what will become their book, anyway—and tearing it apart so we can make it better.”

Aelin grinned. “Are you one of those mean editors? Like everyone’s least favorite high school English teacher, who makes everything bleed with red pen?”

“Spelling and grammar are usually taken care of for the most part before it gets to me. I just make notes in the margins about what parts of the story work and what parts don’t.”

“Mean notes?”

“Sometimes.”

Aelin finally smiled. “You know, I don’t know what I thought you did do, but that definitely wasn’t it.”

“I live to surprise,” he replied in the driest tone she’d heard from him all afternoon.

“Fine, then surprise me by not making fun of my movie tonight.”

She was met with only silence, Rowan clearly not finding her challenge worthy of a response. But he didn’t make even one sarcastic comment as the movie began, so she took it as a win regardless.

About halfway through, she glanced over at him to find his eyes once more on her. This time, however, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she only smiled.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou

[miss-tc-nova]

Tonight - Eraqus x Reader

SCREW IT! I’M DONE! HAVE IT! I’ve been working on this for too long and it’s starting to eat at me. It’s not perfect, but it’s time to move on!

NO BETA WE DIE LIKE THE SCALA UPPERCLASSMEN! 

Music inpsiration: Let’s Get Out of This Town - Carrie Underwood

~~~~~

              Leaves rustle above, dappling the ground in a perfect mix of cool shade and warm sun. My pen scraws across the book I’m holding up in a rather awkward manner. The reason for such awkward writings shifts again, turning the page of a book I told him to put away at least ten times now.

              “Eraqus, would you please focus.”

              Splayed across my lap, the young man responds, “I am focused.”

              “Then what did I just say?”

              “Uh…That the founding of Scala Ad Caelum was the start of a new era for keyblade wielders.” I stare at him, a mix of annoyance and disappointment painted across my face. “What?”

              “That was the first thing I said TWO HOURS AGO!” I drop the notebook on his face. “Era, the Founding Festival is in three days and you haven’t even written one word of your speech! Your mom is going to be so pissed if you mess this up!”

              The notebook gets pushed aside as he rubs his nose. “I forgot about it, okay. Besides, if she’s so afraid of me ruining the family name, she shouldn’t have put this on me.”

              It’s in these truths that I can’t fault him. His parents are trying to exhibit Eraqus as the perfect heir to blue-blooded family—except, everyone knows Eraqus doesn’t couldn’t care less about his heritage.

              My fingers slide through his soft, wavy hair. “I know you hate it, and I agree that it’s not really fair, but being Tardy Fleetfoot isn’t gonna get you out of this one, sweetheart.”

              His eyes open, staring off into the distant sky; I can practically see the gears turning in his head.

              “What if it could?”

              “Huh?”

              Finally, Eraqus sits up. “What if…we ran away?”

              “Seriously? I know it sucks, but you wanna run away because your mom asked you to make a speech on behalf of your family?”

              “Yes! I mean, no. I just…” Shoulders slump, his eyes cast down. Suddenly, the ever-present light he radiates dims. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now and…I think we could be happier outside of Scala.”

              I feel a knot in my stomach. “When you say ‘we’…”

              “I wouldn’t blame you if you said no, but travelling across the all the worlds would be a lot more fun if you were there with me.”

              Eraqus could easily be the heir his parents keep nagging him to be if he would just take their requests more seriously, but I know he has his reasons for rebelling. As for me, I’ve been struggling with a lot of things ever since I met a man in a black coat. I began questioning our purpose and history, which has admittedly affected some of my work. There’s no reward, no guarantees—no certainty that what we’re doing will mean anything; what he showed me has shaken my resolve in this career. Doing something so selfish for once has an incredible allure.

              My voice in careful contemplation, I ask, “Do you really think we’d be fine out there on our own?”

              That adorable grin that scrunches his nose returns. “With you looking after me, I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Of course he could bring a smile to my face so easily. “Just you and me, travelling the worlds, no responsibilities, doing whatever we want, being together! It’ll be perfect!”

              He takes my hands and I can feel the excitement tingling in his fingers like an infection. Still, I can’t quite lose myself to irrationality the same way he can.

              “What about your family?”

              He sighs, his gaze dropping. “All I have left are my parents and I’m not sure they even see me as their son anymore—just someone to follow the family tradition. And honestly, I don’t care. So I’ve got nothing holding me back.” His gaze turns on me. “Do you?”

              My mind frantically sifts through excuses and obligations. Even in my shattered determination, I’d always convinced myself that the path of the keyblade wielder was the right thing to do and that this was my place in this existence. But right now, my heart washes out those thoughts more and more with each beat.

              “No.”

              I’ve never, in all my years of knowing him, seen Eraqus smile so brightly. And suddenly, my entire future feels like an abyss of the unknown, but it’s bright.

              “Then let’s go.”

              “Now?!”

              He scrambles to his feet, arms thrown out. “Why not?!”

              My brain rattles, trying to get a grip on the suddenness of it all. “Wh-But…What about the others?”

              For the first time, his confidence falters. “I’m not sure they would understand. They’ve wanted to be masters for as long as I can remember.”

              “And Xehanort?”

              His voice lowers to something more sober. “This is the life he’s dreamed of. Gods, he would probably be angry that I want to give this up.” His drooping shoulders square up and he turns to me, determination in his eyes. “We can’t say anything to them.”

              “Are you sure?”

              Hesitation flickers briefly. “Yes. Not a word. Okay?”

              I nod. “Okay.”

              “Good.” Eraqus throws his arms around me, squeezing so tight he lifts me off the ground for a moment and the uncertainty of my life feels long gone by now.

              We agree on a plan—opting to sneak out after curfew—and even talk about some of the things we’ll bring with us, but the conversation quickly dissolves into Eraqus telling me about all the adventures he wants us to have. I hang on every word, the nerves still fluttering in my chest but having the utmost faith in him. Before long, I can’t help thinking that curfew can’t come soon enough.

              Checking up and down the halls, I sneak my way from the kitchen with a bag in hand. I hadn’t managed to snitch much since it had all been locked away for the night, but anything would work until we get out of here. Realistically, food is the most important thing we need to worry about, but Eraqus promised me he would grab the other things on the list we made. I just hope it’s going as smoothly for him as it is for me.

              A finger jams into my cheek. “What’s got you all smiley?”

              Correction: I hope it’s going smoother for him than it is for me.

              In spite of the flush boiling into my cheeks, I attempt to give the offending red-head my best glare. “Am I not allowed to smile just because I’m happy?”

              His brow arches. “It’s more the reason why you’re happy that’s suspicious.” Those amber orbs eye up my bag. “And what’s in the bag?”

              The heat is climbing into my ears as I hold the bag tighter against me. “It’s none of your business Bragi; can’t I just be happy to be happy?”

              “Me thinks thou doth protest too much,” he hums before leaning in. “What are you hiding?”

              Hand against his chest, I push the young man back a step. My heart is racing in my chest while I struggle to remain calm. “What does it matter to you?”

              His shoulders bounce. “I get curious when people start acting weird.” Once again, those eyes narrow, gleaming with serious intent. “So, are you gonna tell me or do I have to pry it out of you?”

              I force an eye roll, pushing past his so-called ultimatum. “If you don’t quit pestering me, I’ll tell Urd it was you who ruined the ice sculpture she made for the magic project last week.”

              That puts a damper on his investigation. “You wouldn’t.”

              “Oh I would.” I poke at his shirt. “You let poor Baldr take the blame but I watched you botch the aero spell that knocked it over.”

              “You have no proof.”

              “I have proof that Baldr was helping Eraqus with homework and the others were working on their projects together on the training ground. You’re the only one without an alibi and your project was the only other one in the class, yet you were overlooked because everyone thought your wonky, incomplete project was broken too.” Finally with some confidence, I smile. “Besides, who’s Urd more likely to believe? Me? Or Smarmy Fluffcoat?”

              Bragi scowls. “Fine. But I’m on to you. I will figure out what you’re up to.”

              “Run along, Fluffcoat,” I say, shooing him away from me.

              As he walks away, I feel a tug in my heart. Bragi, Urd, Vor, Baldr, Hermod, and Xehanort are my classmates—no, more like family. We spent years together, working together, taking care of each other, laughing together. They were the only reason I never chickened out of becoming a keyblade wielder. Of course, I’m giving up that path now for different reasons, but I didn’t think I would miss anything about this life—I was wrong.

              I have to remind myself that I have preparations to make or I risk giving myself reasons to reconsider.

              Stowed away in my room, I collect the things I’ll be taking with me. Hard choices are made for I can’t reasonably take everything. Mementos, niceties, and even gifts from the people I’m closest to must be left behind. I’m not going to lie, I cried a little.

              With some time to kill before curfew, I jot down the things I can’t say in person. I can’t tell my friends where we’re going—not that I even know where we’re going—but I do everything I can to express how much I love them and that I’m going to miss them. For the life of me, I want them to understand our choices and not to worry about us. Even as I tuck the letter away in the photo album on my desk, I find myself praying they’ll be okay.

              A soft knock comes from the door. Creeping closer, I crack it open to find my boyfriend.

              “Are you ready to go?” he whispers.

              Reaching back, I grab my bag, sparing my room of several years one last glance. “Yeah.”

              As I scurry after Eraqus, I give him a cheeky smirk. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten cold feet.”

              The young man stops in his tracks, turns on me, and jerks me into a hasty kiss. With his eyes sparking with excitement, he says, “Cold feet? Me? Never.”

              His surprise attack has my stomach writhing, forcing him to take the initiative, taking my hand and leading the way. We creep through the silent halls, holding our breaths as we check around every corner. Years spent in this citadel has taught us the patrol route of the staff watching out for kids like us, so we find little trouble on our way to one of the lesser used exits of the student dorms.

              Both of us heave a sigh of relief once the cool night air washes across our skin. There are still patrols scattered about the school grounds but—without restrictive, empty, hallways—they’re easier to avoid.

              We’re so close; once we make it to the back corner of the school grounds, we can hop the fence and we’ll be long gone by the time anyone realizes we’re missing.

              Eraqus glances off to the left, pulling us around the corner towards the right. Immediately, he skids to a halt and I slam into his back. My question dies on my tongue as I peer around him to find the reason for our delay. My heart freezes as we come face to face with all six of our friends, headed by a scowling Xehanort.

              “What are you troublemakers up to?” Urd hisses, looking just as angry as Xehanort.

              “Eheh, what are you guys doin’ out past curfew?” Eraqus asks with a nervous laugh.

              Hermod folds his arms. “We could ask you the same thing.”

              “Uh…” Era’s grip on my hand tightens nervously. “We were just out for a walk. Fresh air under the moonlight’s super romantic, you know.”

              Baldr points out the obvious flaw. “Then what’s with the bags?”

              Stone eyes glance to me for an excuse, but I have none. “Homework?”

              I feel our dreams shriveling in my heart. Xehanort squares up, stepping in to nearly bump chests with Eraqus, his silver eyes practically glowing with his displeasure.

              “Fight me.”

              No one was expecting his challenge. However, without backing down, Eraqus questions him.

              “What?”

              “Fight me,” Xe repeats. “If you win, you can go.”

              Cautiously, Eraqus asks, “And if I lose?”

              “You tell us what’s going on.”

              I reach out to rest a hand on Eraqus’s arm. “Maybe we should-”

              I don’t know if it’s the competitive streak he has going on with Xehanort or a reckless thought that convinced him he has a higher win rate than one out of three, but Eraqus ignores my second guessing.

              “You’re on.”

              Without another word, Xehanort turns and begins leading the way towards the training grounds. The leader glares straight ahead with his opponent right behind him, but the others are free to throw me a mix of glares and questioning glances.

              The competitors take the field while the rest of us wait at the sidelines. I assume in order to keep the secrecy we’d tried to escape in, the two speak in hushed voices I can’t hear. Meanwhile, pressure continues building as the others surround me like I’m some sort of inmate needing guarding—perhaps I am in this situation.

              Finally, Urd breaks the silence. “You know Eraqus is going to lose.” My lips purse, reluctant to respond. That’s not what she wanted. “Seriously?! There’s no point hiding it; just tell us what you guys were doing!”

              I simply hold my silence, but Vor at least seems to have some mercy. “Shh, you’ll attract attention. There’s no use trying to pry out secrets, especially if Eraqus really is going to lose.”

              An arm bumps against me and I peer up at Hermod. His expression seems like a mix of pain and anger; all I’m really sure is that he wants to say something, but he holds his tongue and returns his gaze to the fight.

              The boys clash in silence, only the clang of metal ringing out when keyblades occasionally collide. Eraqus is renowned as a slacker and a clown among the class; nevertheless, he’s got power and skill. And this is the first time I’ve ever seen him take on his best friend without a cheeky grin. For the sake of our ambitions, he’s serious.

              That’s not to say Xehanort doesn’t have a chance—he does have win rate to back him up after all. Right from the beginning, he had us all on the run with his raw talent. So while I haven’t lost all hope in Eraqus, I’m not exactly an optimist either.

              And then comes the slip up.

              Eraqus lunges, but when Xehanort side steps the attack, his wrist turns and he pulls back, hooking his opponent’s foot and pulling him to the ground. And then, when Eraqus goes in for the finishing move, Xehanort shoves his keyblade forward—right where Eraqus’s foot lands. The boy in black stands, pulling his weapon with him and unbalancing Eraqus enough that Xehanort easily topples the enemy and claims checkmate.

              Standing above his opponent, keyblade to Eraqus’s chin, Xehanort heaves. Eraqus, equally exhausted, glowers in his defeat. I can feel the weight of failure sinking in my chest.

              “Out with it,” the victor says. The line of Era’s jaw tightens. Unfazed, Xehanort jabs at his chest. “You agreed to the terms, now talk. And no lies.”

              His chin drops, ebony hair hiding his frustration. “We’re running away.”

              For a moment, Xehanort scrutinizes him. I can feel the others staring between me and Era until, finally, Xehanort’s aim lowers as he lets out a huff.

              “I figured that’s what was going on.”

              Just like Eraqus, my eyes snap back to Xehanort. “Huh?”

              Xehanort, for the first time tonight, smiles as he pulls Era from the dirt. “Did you really think you could hide it from me? You can’t act to save your life.”

              “Uh…”

              “I just wanted you to tell me yourself instead of leaving some stupid note.”

              From his jacket, Bragi produces the note I had left behind. Eraqus shoots me a confused glance. “Must’ve just missed ya sneakin’ out when we stopped by to check on you.”

              The silver-haired man picks up the dropped bag and pushes it against his best friend. “You two better get going. You have a lot of ground to cover and Eraqus’s parents will have all the worlds looking for you.”

              The words slip from my mouth, “You’re…letting us go?”

              Bragi snorts. “S’no secret you two aren’t happy here. Kinda sucks but you gotta do what’s best for you.”

              “Do you guys have enough supplies?” Hermod asks.

              “You better make sure to stay stocked up on food and water,” warns Vor, pulling a bag from her haori to give to me.

              “And be careful not to get sick,” adds Baldr, placing a folded blanket on top of Vor’s gift.

              “Also, you left your map in the library, you dingus,” accuses Xehanort. From his pocket, he pulls the map Eraqus promised me he would get. The ‘dingus’ gives a sheepish smile.

              “Speaking of which, where do you guys plan on going first?” asks Vor.

              Xehanort holds a hand up. “Don’t answer that. The less we know, the better. Just…send us a card from all the worlds you visit, ‘kay?”

              Tears well in my eyes when he pulls the two of us into an embrace. The others pile on, sharing the last group hug we’ll have for a long time. It breaks my heart, but at the same time, we have their blessing and nothing could make me happier.

              Breaking apart, Urd takes my face, wiping away the tears she won’t succeed in erasing. To be fair, there’s not a dry eye among us.

              “Take care of yourselves,” she says through sniffles.

              “I love you guys,” I murmur.

              Eraqus takes my hand, wearing soft smile. I can’t force myself to move and it takes him pulling me away for me to finally turn away from them.

              Once we jump the stone wall, we leave behind our responsibilities, our old lives, and our family—at least our real family understands.

              As we race through the empty streets, my tears start to dry. I’m still sad and I’ll miss them, but I have a bright future ahead of me—besides, it’s not like we said goodbye. No, right now, I’m focused on Eraqus and all the adventures we’re going to have. He’s the light pulling me through the darkness and I wouldn’t have been able to break free without him.

              Coming up on the docks, we slow to a stop, looking over the water the reflects the shining night sky.

              “So, where to first?” Eraqus asks, waving to all the endless possibilities.

              Giggling a bit, I point to the brightest star I see first. “That one.”

              “Alright. That one, here we come.”

              Before I can summon my keyblade, Eraqus pulls me into another surprise kiss. His excitement is palpable, seeping in and instigating my own. When he breaks it, he keeps me close, eyes shimmering like the sky above.

              “I promise you won’t regret this,” he says.

              “Regret? Me? Never.”

              He sticks his tongue out at me for mocking him and we summon the armor that will protect us in the Lanes Between. Without any more delays, we leave Scala Ad Caelum.

              And we’ve never been happier.

[aspenflower17]

Finding You (Part Fifteen of ??)

Goodness gracious, I’m back, and excited to be here. I just had the weirdest two weeks, so I apologize about not updating last week. Luckily, I just stayed home today and was able to write most of this chapter. Here is a link for anyone who’s new and wants to start over at the beginning: Part One.

A couple notes: I totally forgot I wanted to add a dream sequence to part fourteen, so I added it first thing in this update. It is a rewrite of part of Satan’s “The Search of Self” Devilgram so there might be some spoilers. I also missed you all so much! Honestly, I’ve been feeling kinda down lately and haven’t even had much motivation to play Obey Me (or do much of anything), so being able to hang out on Tumblr today and see all the posts has helped me get some of my inspiration back! I also bought a Chromebook and I'm still getting used to it. If the formatting goes weird, please let me know so I can fix it.

Tags for the beauties: @simpingforsatan @naimena @hachimochi @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia @a-dream-at-night @chloelikesobeyme @getbehindme-satan @theuglypugling @oofthelazyweeb @mammonismyfirstman

Word Count: 3293

Warnings: Possible spoilers for the first season (though I think I’ve had some before so...), spoilers for Satan’s “The Search for Self” Devilgram story (it’s not the full story and I added a lot)

Mc followed Satan to a fairly large building. Satan, still so weird to say, had asked her if she wanted to go around the Devildom with him. The letters above the door were illegible, seeing as how the Devildom had their own language and alphabet, but she instantly knew where they were when they walked in, “You took me to an art gallery?!”

“Oh, seems like I made a good choice,” Satan looked a tad shocked, but then smiled, “I like to come here to get away from stuff and clear my head.”

“So, are these like human art galleries?” Mc asked.

“I think so? Naturally, they have older, historically significant paintings, but they also exhibit pieces created by young, up-and-coming artists. And they’re always holding interesting events. It’s a lot of fun… Are you interested in art, Mc?”

“Yeah, I am,” Mc answered.

“Ah, is that so? I’ve got a feeling you and I might get along, then. I really love art.”

Mc felt her heart thill at his words. She’d been interested in the blonde fourth-born the second she’d seen him, and her interest seemed to be well founded.

Satan continued on about why he loved art, and though there was brand new art for her to look at, all she could do was hang watch Satan and hang onto his every word. He wasn’t saying anything she herself didn’t think, but just being here with him was giving her butterflies.

“... If you’re nervous about coming here alone, then say the word, and I’ll join you anytime.”

“Ah, that’s so nice of you. Now that I know this place exists, I’m definitely going to need to visit often.”

“You’re really excited about this, aren’t you?” he was watching her, eyebrow quirked, but with a soft smile.

“Of course! Not only do I have a whole new history to learn about, but there’s even new art!”

Satan chuckled, “Well, I’m glad you’re actually interested in art. It really is important not to focus only on your outward appearance like Asmo, because the person you are on the inside has a way of showing through on the outside as well.”

“I agree. Too many people’s beauty is only skin deep.”

“Exactly. Incidentally, it looks like they’re having a contemporary art exhibit here today. Shall we go check it out?”

“Definitely. I hope demon modern art is better than, “Four Blue Squares on Canvas”.”

“Wait… Really?”

“Yup. It’s a real art piece I saw in my University’s art museum.”

“So, was it really…”

“Just four blue squares on a white canvas, all equidistant from each other.”

Satan blinked a couple times, “Well, I hope ours is better too.”

They entered an exhibit space. Mc found herself a little disappointed, as she saw some of the same stange, abstract, postmodern art she would’ve seen at a human art gallery. Satan noticed the change and hurried to explain, “This is the human art wing. Many of the “lost” art pieces you’ve heard about can be found in collections here in the Devildom or in some of our galleries. This gallery is curated by Lord Diavolo, as advised by Barabatos, Lucifer and myself. Right now I believe this collection was put together by Lucifer.”

“Ah. That makes sense,” Mc stated, lips pursed as she looked around, making Satan laugh.

The duo continued through the gallery, Mc stopping every-so-often to examine a piece that caught her eye. Satan knew the artist’s name and the medium of almost every piece, though there were a few that were new to him too.

“Check out this work here. The use of color is so novel, so original. It’s very eye catching.”

Mc leaned down to read the museum label, “You know, that reddish color really reminds me of… Oh…”

“Human blood? Yeah, I thought as much. Though the smell had been dampened, probably diluted with water, it’s still unmistakable,” Satan answered absentmindedly. Finally seeing Mc’s discomfort, he quickly tried to backpedal, “I’m sorry. I forgot human noses aren’t as... sensitive as demons. This artist makes pieces that stimulate multiple senses. She’s an acquaintance of mine. This piece in particular incorporates the blood of… Seven distinct creatures, demons included.”

“Oh… Which one is the demon blood?”

“The black. If I’m not mistaken, she used her own blood for this piece,” Mc nodded, the art more macabre than she’d originally thought, “Well, there’s a lot more to see than just this. Let’s see, what’s over here in this space?” They walked through an archway into a room that held a huge installation. A lot of strange items filled the room, some on pedestals, or the ground, while others hung from near translucent strings from the ceiling. The lighting in the room was generally low, specific spotlights or illumination obviously very strategically placed. A low glow on the floor marked a pathway that allowed the viewer to wander around the room.

“Wow! Now this is very interesting,” Satan breathed, eyes glittering, “See? Check it out. At first glance it looks like a bunch of random stuff scattered all over the place, doesn’t it? But actually, every piece of rope, string and crumpled paper has been arranged very meticulously. It actually depicts a war between a dragon and an army of angels. If you want proof, look at it from the side. It looks as if the dragon is over powering the army. Buuuut,” Satan continued excitedly rushing over to the other side of the room, “When you look from this other angel here, it seems the angels have the upper hand.”

“Interesting, because, from where I’m standing, I can see Earth.”

“Wait, really?” Satan moved to where Mc was and bent down so he could view it from her height, “Would you look at that. I don’t think I ever would’ve seen that. How interesting… Very nice find,” he complimented, his smile, words and proximity making Mc’s cheeks heat up.

They spent some more time in the room, though they didn’t find any other secrets. They both vowed to come back however to search some more. They then spent more time in the gallery before Satan suggested they head out to get some refreshments at a new cafe in the Devildom.

“Thank you for that Satan,” Mc grinned, “That was some much needed mental refreshment.”

“No, thank you Mc. It can be difficult to get any of my brothers to spend time with me in a manner that I enjoy, and even harder still for them not to annoy me in the process, so I usually end up going around on my own. It was invigorating having someone with me who also appreciates art,” He grinned at her again, making her heart flutter. She could definitely get used to spending time with the Avatar of Wrath.

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

Mc blinked awake. That was the second dream she’d had that seemed more than just a dream. She could still remember the first in clear detail, though her dreams usually started fading once she woke up. The only other time she’d experienced something like this was her memory of being a Wanderer. But… This couldn’t possibly be like that. That was a memory, and these were just the result of finally being able to talk to and spend time with the demon she’d admired for so long… Right? She shook her head, the large questions the dreams brought up already giving her a headache. She grabbed her DDD blinking at the light it gave off. After her eyes adjusted she saw a new message alert. Opening it she smiled. Seems like he'd finally opened up her letter

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

“Dude, just read it.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Belphie sighed and got up, grabbing the letter off of the kitchen counter.

“What are you doing?” Satan asked.

“Well, if you’re not going to open it, I will. I can’t believe you didn’t read and respond to it that night.  Honestly, you’re one of the most powerful demons in the Devildom and you can’t even-” he was cut off by Satan grabbing the letter from him, the seal already halfway broken.

“I will open it myself, thank you.”

“Then do it,” Belphie said, unaffected by Satan’s anger.

Satan narrowed his eyes, and turned back to the letter in his hands. Logically, he understood why he was nervous, and usually knowing the why behind a feeling would help him get it under control, but that had never worked with any feelings toward Mc. He had hoped this time around would be different, and he was almost more nervous than before. There seemed to be so much more riding on her returned affection than before. Cautiously, he broke the rest of the seal on the envelope, and pulled the letter out/

Dear Satan,

I would love to get coffee with you sometime! If I can be even half as engaging as last time, I’ll consider it a job well done. To help us plan that and talk more easily in the future, I included my number ;) Once you text me, I have a secret to share with you.

Satan blinked a couple times. He turned the letter over to see if she’d written anything on the back. No such luck. Was that really all she’d written?

“Forever the tease I see.”

“... Did you just read that over my shoulder?”

“Well, when you delay as much as you did, and then have that kind of reaction, who wouldn’t? Anyway, you should text her.”

“I… Yes, you’re right. I definitely should,” Satan said grabbing his DDD. He opened the messaging app, typed in her number and… just sat there.

“You good?”

“Hmmm? Oh, yeah. I’m just not sure how to start the-”

He was cut off by Belphie grabbing his DDD, typing something, and then tossing it back to him, “There you go. I’m going to go sleep now. It’s way past my bedtime.”

“Wait, what did you even-”

“Night,” Belphie called from the doorway before walking out.

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

Satan was reading when his DDD meowed that he had a message. He almost threw the book he was reading into the air as he lunged for his DDD which was on the table next to him. He didn’t even have time to be embarrassed at his over-the-top-reaction.

Satan: A secret? 

Mc: Yes :D

My name is not Jane Doe, though 

I’m sure you’ve already

surmised that much

Satan: I thought as much, though it really isan ingenious alias.

Mc: Thank you! I thought so too 

Satan: So… Do I get to know what you’re

real name is?

Mc: Hmmm… What if I want to go get

 that coffee with you before

 I divulge that information?

Satan: We’ll just have to go get that coffee then.

Mc:

When?

Satan: Whenever you’d like. I am free today.

Only if you want though.

Mc: Okay! Shall we say… 16:00?

Satan: As long as there’s no last minute RAD Student Council meetings called, that should be perfect

Mc: Well, if there is, I’ll just have to come

 tell everyone you already made plans.

I’ve been meaning to visit RAD anyway.

Satan:

Oh how I’d love to see Lucifer’s reaction

to that.

Mc:

Satan: Wait… Shouldn’t you be asleep right now?

It’s rather late.

Mc: I was asleep, but…

Satan: Bad dream?

Mc: No actually. Quite the opposite.

I just can’t stop thinking now.

Satan: Ah. I understand that.

Anything I can do to help?

Mc: Would you talk to me a bit longer? Maybe tell me about thelatest book you’ve been reading?

Satan: Of course.

Though he wished Mc would talk to him about what was bothering her, he figured this was probably the better option. They hadn’t met many times, and prying might upset her. So, he simply started telling her the basic plot of the new novel he’d picked up. Eventually, she stopped responding, and the messages stopped being shown as read. Satan smiled at that, texted her good night, and snuggled down into bed himself.

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

“I’m sorry!” Mc’s voice brought Satan out of the book of poetry he’d been reading, “Not only did I fall asleep while texting you last night, but then I was late today and I set the meetup time? Ugh, I feel so bad and I’m so sorry!”

“You’re alright,” Satan smiled, not wanting to acknowledge how much anxiety had been eased up by her appearing.

“I woke up late, and I dropped my DDD bad enough that we have to get a new one all together, and then Michael was asking me about native Devildom fabrics and if he should get a new outfit made in one… It’s just been a day so far.”

“Like, I said, it’s all okay. I’m sure you would’ve messaged me if you could.”

“I would’ve. I still feel bad… But thank you for being okay with it,” the look of anxiety to joy that she gave him made every second he’d spent waiting worth it.

“O-Of course,” he got out.

“So, what were you reading?”

“A collection of Arabic love poems.”

“Ah, “... When I love, / I become liquid light,” and “... If the devil was to ever see you, he’d kiss your eyes and repent,” Mc sighed, resting her chin on her hand. Then, as if remembering her current company and current residence, she shot up, “Sorry! I just really love that line.”

Satan laughed, and then said a quote of his own, “My lips and fingers were pens on her flesh. / I memorized her in every alphabet and memorized my memories until they multiplied…”

“I look at you and I dream of snow, I look at you and I await autumn…”

“My temptations in your eyes, And the cities of your grief,” Satan quoted just then realizing they were both leaning in towards each other. He leaned back a bit abruptly and cleared his throat, “Anyway, I really enjoy Adonis’ work.”

“Me too,” Mc answered, leaning back as well. Fortunately, a waiter came up to them to take their order, helping resolve the awkward air his sudden retreat had created. He tried to collect his thoughts as she ordered. He could only think of one thing to talk about though.

“So… Your name is not Jane Doe.”

“Nope.”

“So... What is it?” Didn’t they have this conversation last night?

Mc looked disappointed for a second, but then she was back to normal, “It’s Mc.”

“Really? That’s a lovely name.”

She looked up, eyes measuring him, “You think so?”

“Of course! It suits you really well,” Satan said.

“Well, there’s actually an interesting story behind that. Usually when an angel becomes an angel, they receive a new name. Back in the past, they used to allow them the choice between their new name and their old one. This resulted in too many angels remembering their human life, so they stopped allowing it. I’m the first angel in quite some time to keep the same name as I had in life.”

“Really?”

“Yup. Apparently Sim and Luke were insistent on it. Luke didn’t have a ton of clout upstairs at the time, but Sim does. I promised I wouldn’t question them too much about my human life.”

“They were huh? That’s interesting…”

“Why?”

“Oh, uhhh… Just general curiosity. I’ve been trying to pin down what kind of person Simeon is since the first exchange program,” Satan scrambled, actually managing to sound convincing.

Mc just hesitated and then nodded, not keeping eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry. I’m just nervous that I’ll make a fool of myself and ruin this time like I have the other times we’ve talked,” Satan confessed in Latin, his brain still on the last language he had been reading. Saying the things that had been bothering him started when he became more comfortable around Mc the first time around. He found saying the things on his mind out loud usually released much of his nervous energy, helped him understand what and how he was feeling without doing things to make Mc uncomfortable, even if she hadn’t understood most of what he’d said. It had become something they had shared, causing her to work hard to learn other languages so she could catch the little embarrassing things he said.

Mc gave him a look before replying, “Well, you didn’t mess up last time.”

“Well, I-” Satan cut off when his brain caught up to his mouth. She had just responded. In perfect Latin. His brain flipped back to their discussion on Arabic poetry and he realized she had been quoting that in Arabic too, “I hadn’t realized… Of course you speak other languages.”

“I have to read it in its original tongue. Translations generally don’t do the original justice,” Satan was still trying to think of an appropriate response when Mc spoke again, “Question though: Why did you say that in Arabic?”

“I… I fell into that habit awhile ago.”

“I thought a lot of demons knew different languages.”

“Well, I don’t do this around other demons. I don’t care what most of them think of me…” Satan cut off as the waiter came back with their drinks.

Mc sat in thought for a second before realization dawned on her, “Oh, was it because of…” her face fell before she could continue her thought.

“Hmmm? Did you say something?”

“No, just a stray thought that slipped out.”

“Hmmm… Well, do you want to tell me more about yourself?”

“Only if you tell me more about yourself.”

“Sounds fair to me. We can trade off asking questions.”

“Okay,” Mc seemed very excited by the prospect, and Satan found it infectious. The questions were a bit stilted at first, but they slowly fell into a comfortable space. Though the answers Mc gave, it seemed she was the same person essentially, but a lot more educated, even more opinionated, and with a different upbringing. He found the fact her personality had remained intact very interesting as well as relieving. He found the fact she was now an angel not as terrible as he thought it’d be. Sure, she spoke about saving souls and bringing people to the light, but with what she’d done for him and his brothers, it seemed a perfect fit. He’d always known she was a really good person. At times it had almost made him try to give up on their relationship, not wanting to corrupt her, but also feeling it in his very nature too. Now however, he didn’t necessarily feel that for her. She was an angel and it took a lot to corrupt an angel. He didn’t feel any animosity towards her and found her to be a lot like Simeon in her regard to demons. He found himself thanking Simeon for keeping her intact. If they couldn’t give her back to me, this is probably the next best thing.

They were both surprised when Mc’s DDD rang, a call from Luke asking if she’d be back in time for dinner. While she was on the phone, Satan received a similar call from an annoyed Beel telling him it was time to come home. Lucifer wouldn’t let him eat until he’d gotten home. They both got off the phone at the same time.

“I… actually have to go. I hadn’t realized how late it’s gotten.”

“I didn’t either. I have to go as well. There’s a hungry Avatar of Gluttony at home and a stupid Avatar of Pride that won’t let him eat until I get back.”

“Well, I really had a good time tonight. We should do this again sometime.”

“I agree,” Satan smiled, “Today was amazing.”

Mc smiled and blushed a bit, “I’ll text you later then?”

“Definitely. Bye!”

Mc waved cutely and then started running off in the direction of the castle. Satan watched her until she was out of sight, smiling softly the whole time.

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

So, yeah. Arabic love poems make me live. I apologize if the translations are weird. I literally found them on a twitter post someone had posted on Tumblr. Here’s the link: https://twitter.com/rosewatwr/status/1292487129793208320?lang=en

Can we also take a moment to talk about how absurd it is that Satan, of all people, was having trouble eating properly with a knife and fork?! Are you kidding me?

Part Sixteen

[whatiwillsay]

t 2017 playlist analysis

Alright folks, whether you’re newly indoctrinated in the swiftgron faith, or have been here for a while, buckle up because boy is there crack coming your way.  It should be important to note that these are of course reaches and should be taken with a grain/pound of salt.  What you’re about to read is a lyrical analysis of a playlist made by Dianna on her private spotify, titled ‘t 2017.’  Therefore, the only real ‘evidence’ we have to make connections lies in the lyrics, and the general vibe of the playlist.

The following lyrical analyses stems from the idea that Taylor and Dianna may, and I strongly say may have hooked up, possibly around late 2016, or early 2017 (right when this playlist was made).  If you haven’t already, I highly suggest reading Cam’s Swiftgron timeline that she has meticulously and laboriously outlined for all of us, so you have more background knowledge on any reaches/connections made.  Also listen to her pod for extra serotonin cause I know you bitches want it.  Anyway, I digress– I’ll be pointing out only the songs/lyrics that I think are most relevant (and to make this post shorter, I apologize in advance) but I urge y’all to take a look at each songs’ lyrics to see for yourself, because some of these songs seem loud af.  Ok happy reading!

Genesis- Grimes

My heart, I never feel I never see I never know Oh, heart And then it falls And then I fall And then I know

This verse talks about the unpredictable nature of love, you never know when those feelings could come rushing in, and there could be days when you feel like you’re never going to love again– gives me cowboy like me vibes with that particular sentiment.

Home and I know Playing the deck above It’s always different I am the one in love

Ok I don’t think this one needs any explanation other than tis the damn season.

1998- Chet Faker

We used to be friends We used to be inner circle I don’t understand What have I become to you

This verse is giving me major the 1 vibes– “rosé flowing with your chosen family” kinda thing.  Relationships (yes, even hookups) are hard, especially when you go from knowing someone like the back of your hand, to a being a mere memory.  It’s even harder when you run in the same social circles and are bound to bump into each other.  What are you to do with all those unresolved emotions/lack of closure?  I just find this a bit funny because two years later at SNL, Dianna is actually considered Taylor’s ‘inner circle’ at the afterparty.  

Drops- Jungle

When you’re so high, you When you fall from the sky, you So come down from the clouds Come down on me

I’ve been loving you too long

I’ve been loving you too long

This song sort of encapsulates the feeling of love that is intoxicating, one might even say addicting.  In that sense, I’m getting major Style vibes, in that they keep coming back to each other because of that high and intoxicated love.  More than anything, this verse reminds me of Clean, and of course Dianna’s infamous tweet, “withdrawals…clearly we had fun” (see Cam’s swiftgron masterpost/timeline for receipts).

Ritual Union- Little Dragon

Straight off the bat, this song gives off major infidelity vibes (something Taylor has been obsessed with as evidenced by Evermore, and of course Babe which btw had a lot of social media signalling/shenanginas happening in 2017/2018).  Perhaps Winston was the cuck after all and we did get a swiftgron hookup? 

Ritual union’s got me in trouble again I was wonderin’ of a white dress And the mistress And a spirit holding my hand!

You do the math with that one– ivy anyone?

Daniel- Bat For Lashes

Daniel when I first saw you I knew that you had a flame in your heart And under our blue skies Marble movie skies I found a home in your eyes We’ll never be apart

I only have two words to explain this verse– Begin Again

But in a goodbye bed With my arms around your neck Into our love the tears crept Just catch in the eye of the storm

With this verse in particular, there’s this sense of a heartbreaking parting of ways in a relationship.  It feels eerily similar to This Love– “your kiss, my cheek, I watched you leave.”  There’s also a mention of a storm, and we all love a good old storm in the swiftgron universe (Clean, DBATC, CIWYW).

Can’t Do Without You- Caribou

I swear to god these are the only two lyrics

Can’t do without

I can’t do without you

Make of that what you will.

Touch- Shura

This was the song that had me fully convinced that swiftrgon might’ve hooked up again in the recent past.  It’s so fucking loud and I did audibly gasp when I read these lyrics.  I’m so tempted to post the entire song because honestly every lyric fits their narrative almost to a t, but I’ll try putting the loudest lyrics here.

There’s a love between us still But something’s changed and I don’t know why And all I wanna do is go home with you But I know I’m out of my mind

This love is good, this love is bad.  This slope is treacherous, I like it.  If the hookup did happen, it’s clear that it’s a bit hard to just pick up immediately from where you left off.  Of course there’s still a lot of love there, it just takes time for those years to melt away.

I wanna touch you but I’m too late I wanna touch you but there’s history I can’t believe that it’s been three years Now when I see you, it’s so bittersweet

Ok this is basically swiftgron’s story right here, I mean come on?!?

I’m running down a dream like Tom Petty, I’m a heartbreaker But then you changed up a relationship, I’m mostly bankrupt There’s a new kid on your block, I gotta hang tough

Cowboy like me anyone?

Yeah, the effect of touch hands is like a miracle How is it you’re halfway across the world when I’m still feeling you? Just a touch of my love, just a little bit Ain’t no love without trust, we gotta deal with this

Gives me treacherous and wonderland vibes– “I’ll do anything you say if you say it with your hands” and “you searched the world for something else to make you feel like what we had.”

iT- Christine and the Queens

I feel like this song gives off major Reputation vibes– controlling your narrative/ ridiculing what other people thought you were, etc. 

With it I become the death Dickinson feared With it I’m the red admiral on his ship And I raise with infants for my coronation I’ve ruled over my all my dead impersonations

‘Cause I’ve got it I’m a man now

Sunday Love- Bat For Lashes

This is a literal weekend hookup anthem (major tis the damn season vibes) and is also one of the other songs that convinced me of the swiftgron hookup.  Again, please look at all the lyrics and deduce for yourself and freak out like I did, but I’m putting the loudest lyrics down.

See her in blue eyes Numb and shining In the face of strangers In the city lights Where he’s climbing Cupid’s diving And I know that she’s come To spend the night

She is in my bedroom Now I can’t fight 

Blue eyed lady coming to your house to fuck you. Ok Dianna, real subtle with that. I’m joking but I snorted when I saw this lyric.

I see her in every place I go Sunday love is so cold Even though I’m falling apart I want Sunday love in my heart

You could call me babe for the weekend cause it’s the damn season.  Also “I see you everywhere the only thing we share is this small town.”

Sweet Talk- Jessie Ware

There’s never any doubts when i need you It’s just that you can always make me feel like I am slipping in way too deep And let the shadows hope to hide or break the dreaming, dreaming of us

The vibe of this song is that there’s someone who always pulls you in because they know exactly what to say.  They found wonderland and got lost in it. 

Dear To Me- Electric Guest

When it’s bad Feels like I don’t know which way I should go But over time I come back and remember The one thing that I know

You’re dear to me and I know 

I know I’ve tied so many songs to ttds, but I guess it’s all the more reason to claim that one for swiftgron nation?  This verse reminds me of  “the road not taken looks real good now, and it always leads to you and my hometown.”

Got It Bad- Leisure

This song was added much later to the playlist on Taylor’s birthday in 2019. All other songs were added early feb of 2017.  With this song, I don’t get much except cowboy like me vibes.

Got our different ways with the same old payout Had our own dreams with the same old outcome Had a bad extreme and the same old break down Worked it to the bone with the same old habit

Et voila, that’s the end! I know this was super long so thanks for sticking through.  Again please note that these reaches were made because we are a little biased through a swiftgron lens.  It’s very possible that Dianna simply likes these songs and put it on a playlist, but let’s be real, gays practically communicate through spotify.  This is not fact and not proof for anyone to hound Dianna or invade in her or Taylor’s personal life, this is just for swiftgron fun.  That said, I’m personally inclined to believe that something did happen between Taylor and Dianna in 2017 possibly.  That’s all I have to say, thanks!

submission⬆️⬆️⬆️

ANON THIS WAS AMAZING YOU JUST MADE MY MORNING!!!

you should make a gaylor blog if you don’t have one already we NEED more of this content!

[hoodwinkd1]

Your Eyes Whispered Ch 15

Ch 14 here.

Chapter 15: light hearted jokes

A pillow smacked his face, shocking Eris out of what had been an extremely pleasant dream. He almost snarled at the attack, turning onto his side, before remembering that the object of said dream was lying beside him.

“Sorry,” Rhia whispered, her eyes wide. “Did I wake you up?”

Her fingers played with the edge of the pillow still sitting between them. To Eris’ delight, she appeared to be in the process of removing the barrier, explaining the early morning attack.

“Not many people are brave enough to assault the High Lord first thing in the morning.” Testing the waters, he placed his hand next to hers, palm splayed open. The tumultuous ocean between them turned into a gentle stream as she took it.

Rhia let out a soft sigh. “Go on then, if you must. Lock me in the dungeons, imprison me for life.”

Was it his imagination, or had she shifted closer? Either way, Rhia looked entirely too tempting in the mornings. Her hair had fallen out of its updo and into complete disarray, but framed her face in a way that reminded him of cozy sweaters and falling leaves, of the brief moments he had ever truly relaxed in his life, of safety and of comfort.

He twisted their joined hands so he could press a kiss to her knuckles. “You shouldn’t dangle an idea like that in front of me. I may just keep you here forever, though certainly not in the dungeons.”

She hummed in response, releasing his hand to run hers through his hair. Her fingers continued to explore, drawing the most delicious shapes over his cheekbones, his nose, his jaw, and his neck. Eris would have traded all his fire power in exchange for the fiery lines her touch brought forth.

He also would have traded his powers in an instant for nothing at all. The unpleasant memory of the night before shadowed his thoughts, reviving the roaring self-hatred and guilt at causing her pain.

“Is this why you wanted to remove the pillows? I hadn’t guessed you’d be so affectionate this early.” Eris kept his tone light. She could take his question at face value or use it as an opening to talk about what had transpired.

Rhia grimaced. “Am I that easy to read?” She pushed his shoulder lightly, and he let himself fall onto his back. Eris almost lit the curtains on fire when she moved forward so they were chest to chest, one arm slipping on the other side of his waist. He curled his hand, the arm pinned underneath her, around her back, reveling in the simple touches. “The pillows were in my way.”

“We can’t have that,” Eris concurred. He grabbed the remaining pillow, resting against both of their knees and threw it over the side of the bed. He might have aimed too low and brushed her cheek. All’s fair in love and pillow fights, of course.

“Asshole!” Rhia launched herself on him in earnest this time, straddling his waist with her insanely gorgeous legs. She let a wisp of magic loose, pulling the pillow from the floor to her hands. Eris sat up, hands flailing to grab her wrists, but she got a good smack in before he could. He caught one of her hands and--

“This is too cute!”

Eris let out a snarl that could have woken half the palace at the intruder's voice.

---

Rhia desperately needed to catch up on inter-Court politics. She was relatively confident that  foreign diplomatic officials weren’t allowed to show up in High Lord’s bed chambers without invitation or announcement. And yet, Carina Archeron leaned against the door frame.

“Take your time! Just letting you know I’m waiting in the sitting room when you’re ready for a chat.” The dark-haired female sauntered out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Eris dropped her hand and pinched his forehead in frustration. “I would say she’s not usually like this, except...she is.”

Rhia sighed and removed herself from his body. She had hoped that in the morning light, maybe some activities would be marginally easier than the night before. “We shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

“I have some very choice words for her,” Eris grumbled. “No more showing up wherever, whenever like she owns the building.”

“Oh? Does she show up in your bedroom often?” Rhia raised an eyebrow.

Eris’ reaction was better than she’d hoped. The High Lord, halfway through putting on a new shirt, whipped his head around, almost ripping the fabric apart. “We haven’t, she’s not, I can promise you that there’s nothing to worry about--”

“I’m teasing, love.” She reached up and helped navigate the sleeves down his arms. “Do you have a spare dressing robe? And not one that was meant for your previous consorts?”

He bit the tip of her ear as he moved past her towards the massive closet. “You’ll be the death of me.”

Carina perked up when they finally joined her in the main room. “That was much quicker than I expected. Look, I even put up a sound barrier.”

Rhia could feel the magic buzzing, right as Carina popped it. At least she had more faith in their sex life than Rhia did.

“I’ll be brief.” She sat back on one of the golden chairs, watching as the couple settled themselves on the couch. “I am sorry for interrupting; I forgot you would stay the night. Anyway, long story short, my parents have invited Eris to come stay the week before the Winter Solstice.”

“How wonderful,” he replied drily. “My ideal vacation.”

“They’ve also extended the invitation to you.” Carina winked at Rhia. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell them about your hero worship tendencies.”

She glanced over at Eris, who’d gone surprisingly stiff at the statement. “Isn’t that normal? Letting a fellow High Lord bring guests?”

“Of course it is,” Carina continued. She shifted in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Half of Prythian has heard the news of your mating.”

Eris let out a low growl. “I’m sure Rhysand has the purest of motives here.”

“Ignore him. Rhia, they stressed that you’re invited to come, even if you must come alone.”

Eris growled louder this time. “Not a fucking chance.”

Rhia whipped her head to face him, mouth gaping at the blatant demand in his tone. He never, not once, had said anything territorial or commanded her in anyway. “And who are you to stop me?”

“I would never stop you.” Eris clenched his jaw. “I just want you to see this charade for what it is.”

“Is it? A charade?” She directed the question at the Heir of the Night Court, who looked increasingly uncomfortable with every tense remark.

“I wouldn’t be here if I thought it was anything less than genuine,” she insisted. “Eris, you know I’ve never taken their grudge seriously.”

He leaned forward in his chair. Rhia tracked the movement of his arms as they slid down his thigh, hands joining together and elbows resting on his knees. “Tell me, then, with complete certainty, that the Inner Circle has no plans to investigate our relationship. That they have no desire to inspect my mate for themselves. That they have no beliefs that she might be in any danger.”

“What?” Rhia almost choked on nothing. “They can’t think — they have no reason to believe that you would harm me.”

Eris looked down into his palms, searching for something in the creases that brought her so much comfort. “You know our history. Of course they have reason to believe I would treat you maliciously.”

Carina glanced between the two of them. “Yeah, so third wheeling a fight isn’t really my idea of a grand time. I might just go—“

Eris cut her off. “Answer my question or return home with our most insincere apologies.”

“I don’t know! I didn’t ask and I honestly didn’t consider it.” Carina uncrossed her legs and stared him down, intensifying her gaze. “I swear on all the stars in the sky, I only came here with good intentions.” Her eyes jumped to Rhia and her smile turned apologetic. “And if they did pry, it’s only because they happen to be the nosiest assholes in this world.”

Rhia wanted to sweep this entire conversation under the rug and never address it again. She knew that Eris, like he would with any topic, would let her do exactly that if she asked him to.

But something in her heated. Some fire in her core, some deep-seated instinct urged her to defend, to protect, to snarl at any threat with every drop of her power.

“That isn’t fair. They have no right to judge what’s ours, without proof or complaint.” Her words were quiet, but the look from Eris screamed so loudly that she blushed. “If they have any sort of motive, then I have to decline.”

Carina dipped her head. “I can send that message to my parents. If you did say yes, I would set down clear and strict boundaries for your comfort.”

“Thank you. It’s not a yes or a no at this moment.” Eris’ response was much calmer than before, drawing a soft sigh of relief from her lungs.

Rhia offered a weak smile to the other female. She genuinely wanted to bond with Carina, sought friendship with one of the few Fae Eris trusted, and this conversation had deterred her from that goal. One last question lingered, though.

“I know the history between our Courts is tense, and rightfully so,” she began. “But truly, what purpose does it serve to antagonize Eris like this? After successfully allying with him for so long?”

Carina shrugged. “They always have to be the hero. My parents and family have centered themselves in one narrative for too long, unable to really break the molds they were forced into.”

“My father grew more powerful than anyone expected, than anyone knew how to handle, all while facing scorn from both halves of his bloodline. He had to comprise his own beliefs when dealing with the Illyrians and the Hewn City, yet never could find a way to actually fix the problems. My mother was thrust into almost unlimited power and given a hyper-dedicated soulmate at 19 years old, with no worldly perspective or aged experience.” Carina bit her lip, as if holding back a grin before adding: “oh, and of course they both died for Prythian, so that really set the entitlement in.”

She waved a hand casually, wiping away the fact that she had just analyzed the two most magical beings in this world with utter candor. “Whatever, enough about them. Think on it, and send me a note when you decide. Either way, I’ll still visit and demand the latest Autumn gossip.”

She winnowed before Eris or Rhia could move, a person much too used to always getting the last word.

“How are you feeling?” Rhia leaned back into the couch cushions and placed her hand on his shoulder.

Eris draped his hand over hers and squeezed. “I don’t think I ever feel normal after conversing with Carina,” he admitted. “But I’m no longer angry. I apologize that you had to see that.”

Rhia snorted. “You’re much too calm normally. I can appreciate some rage now and again.”

“Never at you.” He leaned over to kiss her knuckles. “Not ever at you. If you’d like me to rage at someone on your behalf, however, that’s completely acceptable.”

“A wonderful sentiment.” The hand on his shoulder slid behind his neck, while its twin danced across his abdomen. “I would like to see the Night Court someday.”

Eris hummed. “I’ll make sure you see all the Courts and the continents beyond, if you wish.”

“Even Illyria?” she teased.

“Nope.”

“Why the hell not?” Rhia pouted. Rhia hadn’t felt any actual desire to go to the bitterly cold mountains, but his denial struck her as a bit odd.

Eris glanced up at the ceiling. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Well now I simply must know,” Rhia giggled. “Or I’ll assume something much worse than what it is.”

She watched him scrunch up his nose in the most adorably frustrated way. “The General and I....we don’t mix.”

“Eris,” she sighed. “You can’t let this grudge eat away at you like—“

“It’s not the grudge.” A blush crept up his neck. “It’s not me that, well, I don’t want you meeting  Cassian.”

Rhia swatted him. “Is he so horrible? Or are you worried I’ll take one look at his hulking body and fall madly in love?”

A beat of silence. Another. Too much time passed, and Eris still didn’t respond to her taunt.

“No.”

He groaned and pulled her closer to him, hiding his face in her curls. “It’s not what you’re thinking! It’s beyond silly, I know, but he did manage to take not one, but two betrothals from me.” His voice went soft. “It’s silly to even think this.”

Rhia bit her tongue, trying to think of anything comforting or sweet to say. She couldn’t do it. A giggle slipped out, and Eris shot his head up.

“Don’t you dare laugh at me.” His eyes flashed in warning, pushing her over the edge.

Rhia gasped for air as the laughter fully overtook her. She covered her mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m trying to be serious but...” Another laugh interrupted her sentence. “That is so incredibly ridiculous and superstitious!”

Eris glared at her. “My ego is utterly shredded right now, thank you very much.”

“I love you.” She finally calmed down enough to  press a light kiss to the edge of his mouth. “I love you and we’re mates and I promise I won’t leave you for the General of the Night Court.” She kissed the other side of his mouth, punctuating her words.

He wouldn’t risk her pulling away, gripping her waist to keep her against him. She teased him with a few more pecks, adjusting her position to hover directly on his lap.

“Kiss me, you cruel, despicable creature.” His breath fanned her neck and she smiled against his forehead.

A heartbeat later and they were tangled up in each other, lips and tongues and limbs coming together as one. Rhia gasped when he bit her bottom lip and Eris purred when her nails dug into his shoulders.

"Promise me we won't be interrupted this time," she breathed, as he moved down her jaw and back to that one spot on her neck.

Eris smiled against her skin. "I've tripled the wards."

She licked her lips, drawing his attention back up to her face. Slowly, torturing them both, her fingers grazed the neckline of the dressing robe, gliding it down her shoulders, letting it fall off her arms. He looked at her with all the intensity and desperation of a drunkard on his last bottle of wine.

She leaned forward, kissing her way from his chin to his ear. "Should we try again?"

-----

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