#a search through nine lifetimes

[somewhatavidreader]

wlw wuxia/xianxia short films

I'm Her Weapon (1)

A Search Through Nine Lifetimes (2, 5)

I Became the Protagonist of a Quick Transmigration Novel??? (3)

The Courtesan and the Female Scholar (4)

Hello, Stepmother (6)

[sodamnradd]

“Give it up, Draco. You found what people spend a lifetime searching for, and you just let her leave without you.” Blaise fell back onto the leather sofa and crossed his ankles, looking pensively into the fire. “What I don’t understand is why. You keep saying that if anyone will win, it’s her. And yet here you are.”

Draco opened his mouth to deny, deny, deny. But what was the point? Blaise had seen them together in the prefects’ bath, and later, when Draco tried brushing it off as a casual hook-up, Blaise had only shaken his head and said, ‘I saw your face,’ as if that was supposed to override any lies that came out of Draco’s mouth.

His stomach had been a tangle of nerves since Granger had kissed him goodbye and disappeared with Potter and Weasley to save the world. That was the issue with Gryffindors, forever killing themselves over the next big heroic deed. He wasn’t like them.

“What would you have done?” sniped Draco. It was easy to cast judgement from afar, but Blaise wasn’t living it. “Would you just turn your back on your mother? On your friends? To hell with everyone if you’re in love?”

Blaise gave him a side-long look, grinning. “Are you in love?”

“You seem to think I am.”

“Do you see a future with her?”

“If the world wasn’t so fucked up?”

“Yeah.”

Draco didn’t really have to imagine it because it’s all he’d been thinking about since he first kissed Granger nine months ago.

It wasn’t just her physical being—the charged, tantalising pull of their bodies like opposing magnets—but a vision of what their life could look like. Granger didn’t need pure-blood persuasion to pave her way into the world. She could be self-made. And Draco would stand proudly beside her, as he did best. He could manage the accounts, pursue his hobbies, while ensuring Granger never felt alone navigating her mountainous ambitions.

Draco lived a satiated life, but with Hermione, all he knew was starvation. She was the one thing he didn’t want to barter or consume in small bites. If he had her, he was going to feast.

“It’s not that simple,” he concluded. “It’s not some playground romance anymore. She’s out there risking her life. I can’t afford to love her how I want if she’s just going to wind up dead.”

“Take this from someone who’s buried seven fathers—death is preventable.”

Draco looked up at Blaise, surprised.

His friend had an eerie look on his face, made worse by the fire casting strange shadows over him, but Draco knew the Zabinis had a complicated relationship with murder. And that’s what he meant: murder was preventable, not death.

“What makes you think I could protect her any better than Potter could?”

“The Dark Lord trusts you, you’re a sneaky fuck, and you’re in love. Nobody will fight harder to win.”

~

Donning a backpack full of survival gear, his wand, and the warmest clothes he owned, Draco used their matching bracelets to Port-Key to Granger the next Saturday morning.

She had woven the bracelets with colourful thread—red and gold for him, green and silver for her—and the next week, Draco had adhered matching charms to them. She didn’t know that he could sense her through it. That when she fingered the cool metal engraved with his constellation at night, he felt her presence. Or that it was a gateway to each other using the right spell.

Maybe he’d known he’d follow her all along.

The bracelet transported Draco to lush, crawling hills and enormous, craggy rocks. The sky hung bright white above him. He could sense Granger’s magic in the air, or maybe it was her perfume drifting in the breeze. He inhaled deeply, feeling closer to her already.

There was nobody around when he heard the gasp directly behind him.

He turned and saw the air wobble. The ward he hadn’t realised was there descended. Granger stood two feet away, eyes wide and lips parted. She was thin and pale and seemed afraid.

Regret washed over him. He should have come sooner.

“How do I know it’s really you?” she demanded, wand clutched tightly by her side, a combination of fear and hope flickering in her eyes.

Draco dropped his bag by his feet, taking three strong strides forward. He framed her cold cheeks in his hands, hoping she saw the look on his face and remembered how much she meant to him. He said, “Because nobody else knows how much I love you.”

He kissed her, and a second later, Granger threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back, sobbing.

“I’m here to stay,” he reassured her, holding her tightly. “I’m here to fight.”

And he thought of Blaise in the Slytherin common room, the only one who knew of Draco’s whereabouts, and their discussions of love and death. And he thought of the future he’d seen with Hermione, and he thought he could have it, maybe even a better version of it. One that didn’t involve him at home, pursuing hobbies, but being worth something, too. He could be that. He wanted to be that.

Draco wanted to feast.

(873 words, inspired by Don't Swallow The Cap by The National)

[cockslutpadalecki]

But The Flesh Is Always Weak

Summary: It’s been a week since Andy broke things off, but to you, it feels like a lifetime.

Characters: Professor!Andy Barber x Student!Reader.

Words: 3K.

Warnings: teacher/student relationship, possessive behaviour, unhinged behaviour, gaslighting, manipulation, a face slap, throat grabbing, hate sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), forced orgasm, throat fucking, 18+. MINORS DNI.

A/N: The last visit to these two… well, for now. Thought I’d had better get round to posting this! You can read the rest of their story here. Beta: @princessmisery666 but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Please support our content creators by sharing our work.

It’s only been a week since Andy broke things off, citing, “You should be dating boys your own age,” but it feels like a lifetime. A lifetime spent in hell. 

Every passing minute hurts. Every waking thought is plagued by his words and his touch on your skin. You drive yourself crazy, crying to the point of exhaustion before you wake up and do it all over again. 

You can’t eat; you can’t sleep. Your chest aches with every breath you take without him, and quite often as you clutch at it in the midst of another breakdown, you wonder if dying from a broken heart is possible. 

You shuffle through each day like a zombie, mindless with no real destination in mind— just wandering around waiting for something to distract you. 

It’s not until you get an email from him nine days in— addressed not only to you, but the Dean— that the agony seems to lessen slightly at the sight of his name. 

“I’m reaching out as you haven’t been to class for the past week and a half. I’m growing concerned for your wellbeing as this is just not like you. Please get in touch as soon as possible.”

It becomes an olive branch that you obsess over, desperately trying to seek out any hidden message he could be attempting to send. But after days of searching, you have nothing to show for your efforts and you begin to resent him. 

Anger bubbles up in place of your heartache— a strange sense of still needing him like you need air, but at the same time, wishing you could hurt him just as badly as he has hurt you. 

You can’t believe he has the audacity to show concern like he’s not solely responsible for shattering your world into a million tiny irreparable pieces, without a shred of noticeable apathy.

-

The driving force that propels you to attend his class surprises even you. You wake before your alarm, eager to dress in the outfit you excitedly picked the night before. Your stomach flutters as you walk through campus, feeling the most clear-headed you have in days. You can’t wait to see him. 

You feel a little giddy at the prospect of seeing evidence of the breakup on his face— perhaps red-rimmed eyes or melancholy preventing his smile from reaching his lips, but he somehow looks better now than before.

He doesn’t bat an eyelid when you slink into the hall while he’s mid-speech. He barely acknowledges your presence when you hand him your overdue essay; a secret love note slipped in between the pages just like you used to do. 

But what stings the most is that he doesn’t stop you from leaving when class is over. It’s like you don’t exist. Like the past nine months meant nothing, along with the litany of promises he’s already broken. 

He’s doing fine and you’re not? How is that fair? your mind screams as you glance over your shoulder, catching Rebecca hovering around his desk like a common house fly, buzzing around shit. 

You pause in the doorway, your stomach dropping like lead when Andy finally approaches her, and places his hand delicately on her arm.

And as he flashes her a wide grin, all of the momentum inside you deflates— the hurt and pain he has caused you morphs into pure rage.

-

The following evening, you know he’ll be alone at home. Five times you try to talk yourself out of going, but the overriding consensus eventually wins— he won’t be able to turn you away on his own doorstep. You just want to talk to him. 

Maybe ask if he’s replaced you with Rebecca yet. 

You pull up outside his neighbors’ and switch off the engine, gathering up the courage to get out when you notice movement at the front door. Andy steps outside, but he’s not alone. 

You’ve only seen her— his wife— in photographs, and you actually hate that she’s more beautiful in person. Part of you wonders why Andy would betray her, but then you remember all of the horror stories he would tell you. 

Her beauty is only skin deep. 

From the things you know about their relationship— how strained it is— it surprises you when he wraps his arm around her shoulder, leaning in to kiss her hair as they walk to his car. They’re laughing, smiling without a care in the world. From this vantage point, they look and act like newlyweds. You feel sick as you keep watching, noticing the way he gently pats her ass when she climbs into the passenger seat. 

The same passenger seat you’ve sat in countless times on drives back from secret trysts in dingy motel rooms, while your cunt still throbs.

Just before he gets into the car, he looks over his shoulder and for a wild moment, you swear he locks eyes with you from across the street.

-

He’s brought her here. The same place you used to have dinner. For a moment it feels like a knife wound to the heart that he would have the audacity to share this with her, but then you realise he has to be sending you a message. He must know you’ve followed him and he’s trying to communicate with you covertly so as not to draw attention to it.

Your stomach flutters, feeling a heavy sense of relief wash over you. 

He still cares. He still wants you.

For an hour, you sit in the parking lot before you regret drinking so much soda on your way here, needing desperately to pee. You know you could go to the mall across the street, but your feet pull you towards the restaurant before you can stop them. 

You make your way to the restroom, careful to avoid their table, and just as you’re about to leave, you spot Andy making his way towards you. Your heart leaps into your chest and you double back, waiting for the moment he’ll come bursting in, overwhelmed with joy at the sight of you. 

Nothing but silence follows, except for the dull thud of the men’s door opening and closing. 

Naughty. He wants you to go to him. 

Giggling, you sneak out of the women’s and push open the door to the men’s restroom, confused a little when you don’t spot Andy at the urinals. You’re about to retreat when you hear his familiar whistle, remembering all the mornings after the night before where you’d wake up to the sound of him in the en suite, whistling his favorite tune. 

He knows you’re listening. Dropping breadcrumbs in the hopes you’ll follow the trail right to his feet. And as you slip through the small gap between the door and frame, you hungrily swallow down every piece.

-

You wait until he’s finished in the stall before making yourself known. You don’t want to frighten him but as he begins to turn in the small space, ready to leave, he spots you in the doorway and nearly jumps out of his skin. 

“Jesus, what the fuck!” he half shouts, half whispers. 

“Oh god, I missed you,” you gush. Andy stares wide-eyed at you when you rush towards him, wrapping your arms around his torso. You inhale deeply and revel in his familiar smell, the scent enveloping you like a hazy dream. It feels so good to be so close to him again. Pulling back, you gaze up at him before rising onto your tiptoes, preparing to place a kiss on his lips. 

He quickly intervenes, pushing you away. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I wanted to see you so I went to your office, but you weren’t there so I thought I’d go by your house,” you reply simply, like he’s just asked you what two plus two is. 

“Th-that still doesn’t explain why you’re here.” 

You shrug. “I saw you getting in the car, so I followed you.”

“Why would you do that?” 

“I wanted to see where you were going, silly,” you giggle. “Bet you couldn’t imagine my surprise when you brought her to our place,” you add a little sharply.

“Actually, I used to come here…” he pauses before continuing with, “y’know, before.”

The metaphorical knife in your chest twists at his words, but you manage to recover quickly. 

“It’s okay,” you smile, “I can let that go.” 

You reach out for his hand, loving the softness, but inexplicably rough of his skin on yours. He allows it for a moment, running his thumb over yours before snatching it away. 

“You can’t be here.” 

“Afraid she’ll catch us?” you sidle up to him with a cute laugh. “Is this a new thing you want us to try?” Gently, you cup him through his pants and a wave of heat ripples through your gut. Andy hisses, his cock stirring against you as you squeeze gently, encouraging it to swell. “C’mon, don’t you remember the risks we used to take?” You rise up again, kissing the underside of his bottom lip. Even his beard feels amazing brushing across your chin.

He snaps, yelling, “No!” as he pushes you away, yet again. 

Sudden hot tears gather in your eyes at his outburst and a horrid realization sets in. “Have you really moved on already?” 

“How can I move on from something we never really had in the first place?” he brutally admits.

Ouch.

“But you promised me the world,” you start tearfully, “why would you choose her over me?”

Andy’s brow furrows. “She’s my wife.”

So? “That didn’t seem to matter when you were fucking me in her bed.”

White hot pain explodes across your cheek as the sound of the slap follows. Your hand shoots up to cradle the area, your skin throbbing. Fresh tears form as you try to stop yourself from crying with a loud sniff.

Andy steps to you, covering your hand with his. You’ve never seen him look so apologetic, even after he dumped you. “I’m sorry, fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have— that was wrong.” 

You stare up at him, wide-eyed as he comforts you, asking if you’re okay. You just nod slowly, unable to find the words. This is what you needed to prove he still cares. 

“What we did, we shouldn’t have done,” he says softly. “I took advantage of you.” 

“Was it really taking advantage when I wanted you too?”

Andy smiles kindly, stroking your hand with his thumb. “I can’t give you what you want. You need someone who will treat you like you deserve.” 

“Why would I want anybody else?” you counter back with a shake of your head.

He lifts his hand from yours and places them both on his hips with a heavy sigh. “I know it’s hard to get over somebody you care about, but with time, it will get easier.” He reaches out, tenderly rubs your bicep as a form of comfort. He looks awkward doing it, like he’s afraid to touch you, when he’s touched you— fucked you in more intimate places than most boys would even be able to find on a map. 

Is he recounting that from experience? Is he telling you he’s not really over you either despite his insistence he is?

“I don’t want time, I don’t want it to get easier. I just want you.” 

Andy rubs his fingers into his eyes and lets go of an exasperated huff. “Listen to me,” he glances up, lips tight in a frown, “I’ve tried to be nice about it, but this is the last time I’m gonna say this. We’re over.”

Your cheek smarts as your jaw tightens and the rage you’ve managed to suppress bubbles up. “Then I guess I’ll just have to tell everyone you hit me.” 

He stares down at you in contempt for the first time ever, his features twisted in disgust. “That was an accident, I didn’t mean to do it, you know that.” 

“Was it though?” You give him a teasing pout. “‘Mr. Barber came onto me, slapped me when I said no’,” you put on a sad voice before it returns to normal. “Sounds like an open and shut case to me.” 

“Don’t you understand how damaging those accusations would be?” he spits, incensed. “I would lose my job, my marriage, everything.” 

You smile at him, giddy. “But then we could be together for real! No college to prosecute you for fucking a student and she’d divorce you, it’s perfect.”

The ire on Andy’s face contorts into sheer bafflement. “You crazy bitch, you’ve lost your fucking mind.” He tries to shuffle past you, but you block his way. “Get out of my way before I move you myself.” 

“What are you going to do, Sir?” you taunt. “Hit me again?” 

He lunges forward, hand wrapped around your throat and forces you up against the wall of the stall. “Don’t tempt me,” he breathes out heavily, gazing down at your body until his eyes meet yours once again. “Why I ever thought getting involved with you was a good idea, I’ll never know.” 

“Because, and I quote, ‘no other pussy could ever come close’,” you manage to croak out from beneath his grip. Reaching out, you cup him through his pants and he hisses between gritted teeth. 

Andy swats your hand away, but you quickly grab hold of his, shoving it beneath the hem of your dress. You let out a moan as his fingers brush up against your damp panties. 

You see the way Andy’s eyes flicker at the contact, the slight loss of control when his fingers flex around your throat. You move his hand up and down your clothed cunt, letting go of tiny whimpers as flames of heat begin burning through your core. 

“Touch me,” you beg. “Please.”

His jaw ticks like he’s fighting with himself, growling under his breath as you use his hand to pluck your panties to the side. 

“Fuck me, Daddy,” you purr. “Show me how much you’ve missed my tight little cunt.”

Closing his eyes, he mutters, “Stop,” but makes no attempt to pull away. 

He wants this just as much as you. 

And when you finally manipulate his fingers inside you, you can feel the resistance ebb as he starts to fight for control and eventually you let go, confident in the knowledge he’s not going to pull away. You reach for him and unzip his pants, the warmth of his cock meeting your fingertips as you slip your hand inside the gap.

“Remember how good I used to make you feel,” you whisper with delicacy. 

He doesn’t respond, instead choosing to stare at you the entire time, face tight with disdain as the sloppy wet sounds of your cunt fill the tiny stall. Legs trembling, you can feel your orgasm beginning to crest. The pressure in your gut becomes too much. You push at his hand to move it away, but Andy doesn’t stop.

“No. You wanted this, so you’re gonna come,” he tells you sharply. “Do it.” 

“I c-can’t.” 

“You will.” He leans in, capturing your lips in a wet kiss as he presses the base of his palm against your clit, and you unravel like a spool of thread. 

You’re still coming as he removes his hands from your body, hurriedly lifting you up around his waist. He’s inside you in one swift stroke, stuffing you to the brim for a split second before he’s pulling back out. 

He fucks you like he hates you. Mean, hard thrusts that push you back against the stall until your spine physically aches from the force. You embrace it— every bruise, every welt— the pain reminds you of how close you came to losing him, and you promise yourself that it won’t happen again.

Another wave of heat builds steadily beneath your skin, tingling all the way down to your toes. This time, you welcome the overstimulation, squirting all over his cock with a heady moan. 

“Oh fuck,” he growls into the juncture of your neck, teeth nipping at your skin. “God, holy shit.” Andy roughly pulls out, and drops you to your feet. He tugs on his dick as you move to kneel before him, presenting your tongue like a dog waiting for a treat. 

Andy grabs your hair, tugging hard on the roots as he shoves his cock to the back of your throat and you gag from the lack of warning. He fucks your mouth, exploding messily across your tongue with a strained grunt, stray droplets of cum spilling out from the corner of your lips, unable to lick them away. 

Your throat throbs when he retreats, and blessed air rushes back into your lungs with an almighty whoosh. Eventually, he loosens his grip on your skull and leans into the stall with his palm, eyes firmly closed. His breathing is still jagged and unsteady as he repeats, “fuck,” to himself as the enormity of the situation comes crashing down around him. 

Finally, his eyes flicker open, the pure disgust and conviction returning to his expression as he stares down at you, and you know what he’s going to say before he says it. 

“This is it,” he states curtly. You slowly rise to your feet in the small gap, leaning in to kiss him but he pulls back. 

“Don’t be like that, Daddy,” you pout. “You used to love tasting yourself on my lips.”

His jaw tightens in frustration as he snaps, “I mean it,” and your name rolls off his tongue like molasses.

“Okay,” you smirk with a light shrug, triumphant that despite his insistence, you know it won’t be. You have leverage and Andy, of all people, should know that's the golden ticket. You slip from the stall without another word, taking a moment to check yourself out in the mirror before turning to press a finger to your lips. Grabbing the door handle, you yank it open without bothering to check if anyone is around before sauntering out, a little limp new to your gait. 

***

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[mazzymoonlight]

Are There Still Beautiful Things?

summary: inspired by taylor’s “seven”, follow JJ and reader through snapshots of their lives together.

warnings: mentions of the death of a parent, mentions of excessive drinking, mentions of abuse

word count: 9.9k

a/n: hellooo & welcome to my first fic :) some of this had been previously posted in parts, but after evaluation i realized this needed to be heavily edited & worked better in this format. this fic has a special place in my heart, so i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing it. (p.s, happy obx 3 eve!)

SEVEN

please, picture me in the trees, i hit my peak at seven feet, in the swing over the creek, i was too scared to jump in but i, i was high in the sky with pennsylvania under me … are there still beautiful things?

JJ Maybank thinks the last time he was truly, truly happy was when he was seven. At such a young age, anything seemed possible. The sky was the limit and the ocean was their backyard. He had his mother and his father, and even though it leaked sometimes, a roof over his head.

And he had his friends, his favorite people in the world. John B, who he had been sat next to on the first day of second grade and was now inseparable from, and y/n, the girl whose mother was his mother’s best friend, who he had known his whole life.

It was always the three of them, getting into trouble together and spending nearly every moment with each other. You rarely saw one of them without at least one other, and even at such a young age, it was clear they had a bond some people spent a lifetime searching for. They were lucky, and people liked to tell them that.

In their younger days, one of the moms (or more often, both of them together) would often take the trio around. Watching at the beach while they learned to surf, the parks while they played until red in the face, treating them to dinners at the local establishments, or ice cream on those extra hot and intolerable days.

But their favorite was camping in the backyard. They would set up a tent and a bonfire, and roast s’mores and stare at the stars.

JJ’s mom had a particular affinity for the mystery that hung above them and would spend hours teaching the kids everything she knew. She loved the moon, she would tell them everything she knew. She liked to talk about the phases and what they meant, what kind of full moons they were in store for soon.

But Saturn was her favorite, she would talk about any chance she could.

Did you know it’s actually a big ball of gas? That it would float in water?

The ring is made up of ice and dirt and bits.

It’s windy up there.

It takes twenty-nine earth years to revolve around the sun.

Time must move slowly up there.

And they let her talk too. And they listened to every word. They listened to the tales and myths and theories of space until they couldn’t fight the sleep back, and their eyes of wonder became sleepy, slowly blinking at the woman in front of them.

“Goodnight,” She’d say to the three of them, and then she would lean in close to JJ, and leave a kiss on his little forehead.

“I love you to the moon and to Saturn.” he would fall into sleep with a smile on his face.

Nights like that were always beautiful. Memories like that were beautiful.

JJ couldn’t help but wonder; without them, was there any beauty at all left in the world?

FOURTEEN

sweet tea in the summer, cross my heart won’t tell no other, and though i can’t recall your face, i still got love for you your braids like a pattern love you to the moon and to saturn, passed down like folk songs … the love last so long.

The summer they were fourteen, JJ’s life changed. His mother passed, and he was never the same after it. It seemed like the entirety of the outer banks was aware of the light that had been lost.

y/n and her parents were right alongside Luke and JJ. None of them knew what was in store without her. Filled with anger, sadness, regret, and guilt, they all knew that she had so much more to give. Life was not kind, life was not fair, and although they all knew it, they never thought that they would get a reminder quite like this.

JJ stood in between his two best friends, y/n’s hand in his, she was struggling too, but she was holding back. She knew she had to be strong for JJ, she had lost someone special, but he lost his mother, and that was something that he would never get back, something that could never be replaced.

That night y/n stays with JJ, and they end up outside the same way they used to, but without a bonfire tonight. Tonight they stare in silence at the night sky, both thinking about all the things JJ’s mom had told them about the stars and planets above.

“I keep thinking she’s on Saturn,” y/n says, suddenly, the thought slipping out before she can think about stopping herself.

“What?”

“I keep thinking about Saturn, how much she loved it.” She clarifies, “And I keep thinking how happy she must be to finally see it.”

There’s more she wants to say, but figures it’s nothing that JJ hasn’t already heard. What can she say, really? When she catches his smile, the first she’s seen in weeks, she leaves it at that. She’s said all she needs to.

“Yea,” he said, wiping a stray tear. “I bet she is. I like that thought.”

And he meant it. The thought of his mom, an angel on her favorite planet, he didn’t think there was any other explanation.

FIFTEEN

JJ’s fifteenth birthday creeps up, and y/n had worked extra to get him a special present. She had seen it in one of the windows of the fancy boutiques on figure eight and immediately ran in to look at it, begging the store owner to hold it for her after seeing the price on the tag. It had to be JJ’s, she knew it the moment she saw it.

So two weeks later she returned with money collected from babysitting and delivering groceries, the proudest smile on her face. Bringing it home and exchanging the chain for a longer silver one before wrapping it up neatly.

Everyone gathers at the Maybank home on the day of. John B and his father, y/n and her parents, and Pope and Kiara, who the trio had recently befriended.

Luke had even put in a little effort, putting up some simple birthday decorations he had bought from the dollar tree. It wasn’t very much, but all JJ cared about was that everyone he loved was there with him. JJ was happy, but there was a lurking sadness in the back of his head. This was his first birthday without his mom. There was an empty space that would never be filled, no matter how hard he tried. And he was trying very hard.

Despite the weight of loss, it was one of the best days JJ’s had in a long time. Luke had set up a slip-n-slide for the kids, really just a tarp with some water and some dish soap but the kids didn’t care. He grilled hamburgers and hotdogs and even stocked up on more sodas than they needed. y/n had made a cake and John B helped her decorate it. It was sloppy, but it was theirs, for JJ.

y/n had waited until later to give JJ his present. She found him still sitting at the outside table with his hand on his chin, looking up into space like he always did.

“There you are.” She says, siding into the seat next to him. She follows his gaze up toward the night sky.

“Looking for Saturn?” she asks.

“Always am.” He answers sadly despite the small smile on his lips.

She doesn’t say anything, only matches his sad smile with one of her own, and holds out the box shyly.

“Happy birthday Jay.”

He takes it gently, looking at her with a look neither of them can register yet. He leans into her a bit, nudging her softly before tearing at the paper.

When he opens the box his smile drops, and suddenly it feels like he can’t breathe, he feels caught off guard as his emotions blindside him. He had no clue what to expect but this certainly wasn’t it.

y/n sees his reaction and it feels like a gut punch. Why had she gotten him that?

She felt so certain it belonged with JJ but seeing him look so upset now she just felt stupid.

“JJ, I’m sorry, I can bring it back, I just thought … if you don’t like it I’ll take it back.” She tries to explain herself and reaches for the box, but he jerks away from her when she tries to take it back.

She freezes, confused now. He doesn’t catch her reaction, still looking at the necklace in his hands.

“I think I’m forgetting her.” He finally says, voice barely above a whisper, like he was scared to say it. Like this was the first time he was admitting it to himself.

“I’m scared y/n, it’s only been a year, and every day I’m scared I’ve lost another piece of her, what if I’m forgetting her?” And then he’s crying before he can stop himself, sobbing almost.

He clutches the box to his chest like he’s scared to let it go, like letting it go would be the end of the world for the second time.

y/n pulls him in, a few tears of her own falling, thinking of all the things she would do and the things she would trade to take away his pain.

“JJ… you’re not going to forget her, okay, I promise you. All you’re doing is healing, trying to learn to live a normal life without your mom, something that no child should ever have to do. You have so many memories of her, you have so many stories and pictures. You're a piece of her. When you’re older you’ll pass the stories on, and people who never got to know her will know her. And when you're older, older, you’ll tell your kids about their grandmother, the woman who was as strong as a hurricane and soft as a butterfly all in one. You won’t forget her JJ, you can’t when you’re part of her.”

She talks him down, and once he subsides he sees the truth in her words, he trusts her so he trusts what she’s saying wholeheartedly.

“You promise me, y/n?”

She holds him tighter

“Cross my heart JJ.”

“Okay,” He says, sitting up from her.

“Okay?” she questions, wiping the last few tears from his face “because you don’t have to be.”

“I know, but I will be.”

She smiles at that, she knew he would be, even if he didn’t fully believe it, he was the strongest person she knew.

She nods towards the necklace “so you like it then?”

He nods. “I think this is the best present I’ll ever get.” And finally pulls the chain out of the box, staring at the clip confused as he tries to figure it out himself.

y/n laughs, making a motion for him to come closer.

“Here, I’ll do it for you.”

She undoes the clasp and wraps it around his neck, closing it again before adjusting, the charm settling just above his heart.

Her fingers linger on the charm, smiling at the memory, the meaning of it.

“Now you have your own Saturn, always with you.”

His hand closes on hers.

You are my Saturn y/n, he thinks.

But instead, he wraps her in a hug, “wanna camp out tonight? I’ll get John B to come back, the three of us like old times.”

She nods in his arms.

“Always.”

That night the three of them all felt like things had gone back to normal, even just for the night both John B and y/n were glad that JJ could feel some type of relief, even if it was fleeting. They knew in the morning things would go back to the way they were, and JJ would struggle a little bit more than the average person, but if they could just give him a couple of hours, it was worth it.

And finally, when they’ve retired to bed and settled in their sleeping bags, JJ and y/n had the same thought running through their minds as they fell asleep.

I love you to the moon and to Saturn.

And JJ swears he felt something press against his forehead that night, exactly like old times.

SIXTEEN

and i’ve been meaning to tell you, i think your house is haunted, your dad is always mad and that must be why, and i think you should come live with me and we can be pirates … then you won’t have to cry, or hide in the closet and just like a folk song, our love will be passed on

The summer they were sixteen was one they had been dreaming about what felt like their whole lives. Finally old enough to roam freely, exploring all the nooks and crannies unsupervised. The trio had now officially graduated to a group of five, and now they took on the world with Pope and Kiara by their sides.

It should have been a dream. Granted, most of the time it was, but there were nightmares constantly lurking in the corner. JJ didn’t want to admit it, but he was pretty sure he had finally lost his father.

Luke Maybank was never the same after his wife died, but for a while, he at least attempted for JJ. He tried, he really did, to be there, and be something for JJ. But he was losing himself, and in the past year, he was slipping further and further away, turning into someone that even y/n’s parents, who had known him for so long, didn’t recognize.

The drinking was getting out of control, and the hitting started not too long after. When he was sober, he was sorry, but eventually, it became a rare occasion to find Luke Maybank sober

So JJ’s normal became sneaking around his own house, avoiding the last of his family, seeing how many family dinners at y/n’s he could get invited to each week, and saving everything he could from his oddball jobs to get out as soon as possible.

He didn’t like to talk about it, in fact, he never did. He let the pogues think whatever they wanted to and never gave them a real answer when they asked. As far as he was concerned, they didn’t need to be concerned about him, he’d be leaving soon anyways.

But y/n knew. She watched like she always did, she was observant. She watched his eyes get that faraway look whenever he rattled off his latest excuse and the way his smile would fall when he thought no one was looking. She watched him and knew he was hurting more than he would let on.

She had gone to his house to find him but only found Luke instead, and what she saw scared her. She did not recognize the stumbling drunk man looking back at her. And he didn’t recognize her either. The girl he had watched grow up next to JJ, the girl he had roasted countless marshmallows for when she was scared of getting too close to the fire. The girl he made pancakes for in the mornings and the girl he lit fireworks for on the fourth of July. None of the memories registered, he had run her off his property like a stranger had just trespassed.

It was when y/n knew that for the second time, JJ’s life had changed. The knowledge tormented her for weeks. She hated the small piece of her that still felt sympathy for Luke, he was a broken man with plenty of reason to be. She was holding out hope, that something good would happen to JJ.

But when JJ showed up with a black eye one afternoon, blaming it on a group of kooks, she knew she had to say something. She spilled half-truths to her parents, although she suspected they picked up on the unspoken story from the tears in her eyes.

“I’m just - I’m worried about him. I just have this feeling that things have been, I don’t know … harder than normal lately.”

Her parents had sensed the shift too, all her confession had done was confirm the suspicion. Her mother told her then that JJ was always welcome in the home, and her father told her he would try to talk to Luke the next day.

And that worked for a little bit, JJ had visibly perked up and for a minute things seemed like they were back to normal, and y/n was waiting for the right to tell him what she knew but it seemed Luke had beat her to it.

She had been waiting for him at the beach, but her smile immediately turned to worry when she saw him storming up toward her.

“What the fuck y/n?” was the first thing out of his mouth, and now instead of worried she was panicked realizing his anger was directed towards her.

“JJ, what-” But before she can get anything else out he’s talking again.

“What did you do? What did your dad do? What’s with all these cryptic messages of watching us and threatening to take me away? I mean what the fuck, what does that even mean? Take me away? Away from what, my home? My father, my only family I have left? How could you do this to me?”

Her face pales immediately, her head shaking.

“JJ, that is not what happened, that’s not what he meant -”

“So then it’s true, he did come by?”

“Yes but he didn’t threaten your dad JJ, he -”

“You know what y/n, I don’t care. I just came to tell you to stay out of it. I don’t know what you think you know, but my dad and I are fine. We don’t all have a picture-perfect family to go home to at the end of the day.”

His words stung, leaving her nearly speechless. “That’s- that’s not fair JJ. You are family.” She chokes out, but he was already walking away.

“What if it was me?” She calls out, frustrated.

He stops, and she keeps going. “If I were you, and my dad was putting his hands on me. If I started showing up with marks and bruises, wouldn’t you do anything to protect me?”

“I don’t need you to protect me y/n.” And that’s the last thing he says to her before walking away.

JJ’s not around for the next couple of weeks, and it drives y/n up the wall not knowing where he was, or what he was up to.

She spends time with the pogues, but she’s never fully there at any time, part of her mind was constantly on JJ. She finally broke one day and told the pogues to please go find JJ and make him go out on the boat with them. They tried to argue with her but she told them that she was pretty sure that if he didn’t blow off some steam soon, he was going to start getting into trouble, and it wouldn’t be good for him.

She gave them space for a few days, and just assumed that they had picked up JJ and got him out of the house for a bit, so she nearly lost it when the pogues finally confessed that they hadn’t seen or heard from JJ since they had been tasked to go find him.

“Are you sure he’s not at the house?” she asked “Sometimes he just won’t come out, or if you ran into Luke then -”

“He wasn’t there, and we didn’t see Luke either. We checked inside.” Pope answers.

She could feel herself panicking.

“Why did you say something sooner?” She stressed, looking mostly at John B.

He looks down, away from her gaze. “You know how he is y/n… and you were already worried enough. We thought he’d turn up soon, he always does.”

She shakes her head, “maybe, but haven’t you noticed that when he does there’s always a new bruise?”

The three of them exchange looks while she closes her eyes, taking a breath and trying to think for a moment.

“Okay, why don’t you guys go check some of our beach spots maybe? There are a few places I can look and just keep me updated if you find him and I’ll let you guys know too.”

They part ways and y/n knows she’s going back to check the house first. Even if he had left, he was never gone from the house long, there was too much to leave behind.

She parks a little way down from the house, she hadn’t been back since the day Luke had yelled at her and if she was being honest she was still a bit scared. She crept up to the house carefully, freezing she hears shouting, the noise becoming clear once the door swings open.

“Boy, I tell ya, that’s just about the funniest thing I think I’ve heard you say.” y/n hears him laughing maniacally.

“You’re not going anywhere, you won’t leave her, you know you won’t. You’re stuck here, just like me.”

Luke stumbles off towards a trail and y/n waits until he’s out of sight before dashing into the house, finding it still and quiet. She wonders for a moment if Luke had been talking to himself the whole time, not finding it entirely impossible considering how drunk he seemed.

And then y/n is suddenly realizing that the last time she had been in this house was JJ’s fifthteenth birthday, and she was suddenly very aware of how empty it felt. It had lost the warmness and comfort it once held, feeling more like a ghost town than a home now. She felt out of place, which was something she never, ever thought she would feel in the Maybank home.

She notices a slightly open closet door at the end of the hallway, and she swore she could hear sniffling, muffled cries like someone tucked away and hiding in there.

“JJ?” she called out, and when it suddenly went silent again, she knew, rushing over to the door and opening it delicately.

And there JJ was, curled up in himself, knees up to his chest and a photograph in his hand. She knew exactly what photo he was looking at, and she immediately dropped next to him. She didn’t know what to do, she didn’t want to scare him, but looking at him broke her heart.

So instead she starts talking.

“I remember that day.” She says. “That was one of the fourth of July parties, we were all there, even John B and his dad. And this was the year the full moon lined up with the holiday, and your mom was so excited, she talked about it all day and got us excited too. Our dads bought way too many fireworks like they always did. And we ended the night with s’mores, of course, because it wouldn’t be one of our nights without them. You always were so messy. There she is again, cleaning you up.”

JJ falls into her then, and y/n catches him like she always does, and always will. She has tears too, staring at the picture of an innocent JJ, a smile plastered on his face, stacked s’more in hand, staring up at his mom who he loved so much, with no idea he was going to lose her in the next few years. And there was his mom too, beautiful as always, her own s'more in one hand and the other attempting to wipe the sticky marshmallow from his mouth, laughing because she knows it’s useless. But she was his mother, so she would try regardless.

She wraps him up in her arms, her grasp firm so he knows she’s there but not tight enough to hurt him.

“I know why you won’t leave. I know why you won’t leave him, why you always come back. You’re holding on to that last piece of normal. It’s okay, it’s okay to hold on, but not when it’s hurting you like this. This house is full of memories, but it’s haunted and full of pain too. I would never ask you to leave what you know, but please just come with me for tonight, maybe a few days at most.”

JJ has always trusted y/n, so even now, when he was upset and jumbled with emotions he trusts her.

She lifts them both up gently. “Let’s get some spare clothes, okay? I can pack them for you if you want.”

They both walk into his room but he makes no effort to pack. Instead, he picks up another photograph that was sitting on his dresser before sitting at the end of the bed. Without saying anything else she grabs one of his duffle bags, and starts putting in a few extra shirts and shorts, and even grabs a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt just in case. When she’s finished he’s still staring at the photo like he’s in some kind of trance.

She throws the bag over her shoulder and reaches her hand out to JJ. That seems to break him out of his state a little, standing up and pocketing the photographs. He takes her hand and they walk out of the house together, out to her car.

She pulls into her driveway, and they walk into the house together and up to her room.

“Why don’t you shower and change?” She can tell he’s still dazed, and she’s hoping a shower will relax him.

While he showers she makes her way back downstairs, her parents are out of town for the next few days, so she figures she’ll cross that bridge when she gets there. She does, however, text the pogues, realizing just how long it had been since they all began looking for JJ. She keeps it simple and just lets them know that he’s okay and with her for now.

And then, she makes two sandwiches, one for herself and one for JJ, because she knew he wouldn’t eat if he thinks she had made something especially for him. When she walks back up the stairs into her room, JJ is already out of the shower and changed. He looks up when she walks in and she lifts up the plates of sandwiches slightly.

“Eat with me?” she asks.

They sit and eat the sandwiches in silence, and when they’re both finished she runs the plates back down before returning with two classes of water.

“Okay,” she says after a few sips. “Just try to get some rest, okay? I’m going to shower, but I’ll be quick.”

Long after the shower turns on, JJ is still hesitating and realizing how stupid their fight was. All that he knows is that he missed y/n, and now he was here with her, everything felt like maybe it would all be okay.

He had just made it under the covers when the water shut off, and a few minutes later y/n came out, not hesitating to lay down in the bed beside JJ. It didn’t matter that they had been fighting, or not speaking, or had not seen each other in the past few weeks. They would always be there when it was needed.

“I’m sorry y/n,” he says suddenly. She had thought he had fallen asleep.

She shakes her head, even though he can’t see her.

“It’s okay.”

He rolls over, and now they’re both on their back, staring blankly at the ceiling as if staring long enough would make it disappear and show them the night sky just on the other side of it.

“But it’s not.” He starts, “You were just trying to protect me. And this whole thing has been so stupid - I’ve been so stupid. I didn’t like that, us fighting, us not talking. It just feels like … a storm sometimes. In my head, and it scares me when I’m not in control.”

His hand finds hers in the dark, “I know you were just trying to protect me. I was just mad at myself because I feel like it’s my job to protect you, and I wasn’t doing that.”

She squeezes his hand. “Maybe it’s not okay…” she starts, “but just know I understand, and that I’m always going to be here.”

She looks at him then, reaching up and finding his chin, turning it gently.

“And we protect each other, okay?” There’s a desperation in her voice that he picks up on. One that he understands, deeply.

He gives her wrist a soft squeeze, “okay.”

Then he’s curling into her, and she lets him. It’s silent for another moment before y/n breaks it this time.

“JJ?” she says quietly.

He’s barely awake but he still answers her with a tired “Mhm?”

She hesitates, “to the moon and to Saturn.” She backs out, but the unspoken meaning is still there.

He smiles.

“You are my Saturn.

EIGHTEEN

please, picture me in the weeds, before i learned civility, i used to scream ferociously … any time i wanted

y/n blinks and suddenly it’s graduation. She’s never been happier, a swirl of excitement and pride all in one stirring in her stomach. For herself and everyone but mostly for JJ. Things had been okay enough, but no one could deny the hand JJ had been dealt. He faced it every day, the sideway looks and the backhanded comments and the flat-out insults. But he had done it, proved them all wrong.

Luke had even made it to the ceremony, sitting tucked away in the back as he watched his son walk the stage, and afterward y/n eyes them as they had a conversation before finally parting ways.

JJ runs over to the rest of the group, scooping up y/n and spinning her around, cheering and causing a scene.

“We did it, we’re done!” He’s yelling, “we’re free!”

They continue to chat for a while and joke around, taking photos until the parents are all satisfied before parting ways with plans to meet back up at the beach later in the night.

JJ goes home with y/n and her parents, where there’s a small celebration set up for the pair. They eat cake and flip through old scrapbooks and photo albums. He’s happy, but there’s a sting in his chest, wishing his mom was there.

He imagines briefly, what it would have been like had his dad never changed, if he would have been there in the living room with them, or if he would have had his own afternoon planned. He decides not to dwell on it, instead, he wraps his arms around her from behind on the couch. He focuses on her, and her parents, the photo album of past memories. He understands he’s still lucky.

It gets later, and before JJ and y/n leave for the beach her parents call them into the kitchen again, they have something for JJ. He blushes at the statement, although he tries to hide it. He’s handed a small box and is shocked when he sees a silver key sitting inside.

“We hope we aren’t overstepping,” your mom starts, “really, it’s a bit overdue but we just thought - we just want you to know you’re welcome here anytime.”

Her father places a firm hand on his shoulder when he sees JJ getting choked up, “just if you ever need anything. Hell, if you ever just want to come bother us. You know you’re family.”

He laughs a bit, trying to lighten the mood, shaking his head, “Aw man, now you guys got me all emotional.”

Then he looks up at her father, “thank you, really.” And then he turns to her mother too, and she pulls him into a hug that he gladly accepts. “This means a lot to me, really… I don’t … I don’t know what I would’ve done without you guys. Where I’d be… just, thank you.” He tells her.

“You don’t need to thank us, honey. We’ll always be here to take care of you.”

The moment passes, he pulls away, clearing his throat in an attempt to hide his emotional state and he turns to y/n. “Alright, soaps over.” He announces, “you ready to go?”

They make their way to the beach, talking about summer along the way. JJ keeps listing all the things he wants everyone to do together before it’s time to part for school.

They find a spot on the beach, sitting and talking about how strange it is to be done with high school, and the future. Everyone is leaving, even John B. But JJ and y/n decided to stay close to home, not ready to leave yet.

“After college,” he says, “that’s when it’ll be time to go.”

“You would leave Outer Banks?” She asks, slightly shocked.

“Yea.” He says, confused as to why she was so shocked at his statement

“I’ve always said that, why the face?” He questions.

She looks down, realizing that he was right, he had always said that. She never thought about it in detail, never pressed him on it. Maybe she thought all this time that he never really meant it. Everyone always says they want to leave their hometown but how often did they really?

“nothing it’s just, something I heard Luke say once.”

She catches the way his face drops and she tries to backtrack

“No, no, it was nothing bad I promise. I heard him say ‘you know you won’t leave her’ and I don’t know, it’s just the only thing I’d ever agree on with Luke. That you wouldn’t leave your mom behind, and I understand that. You could build something better, be something better.”

He has a pained look on his face, his hand reaching up to the Saturn around his neck.

“Did you mean what you said, about me being a part of my mom?”

She rests a hand on his shoulder, “of course I did JJ. Everyone knows. You’re the best parts of her.”

“Then it won’t matter where I go. She’ll always be with me.”

Then the look on his face turns into a smirk.

“Besides,” he starts, “it wasn’t my mom he was talking about.”

y/n pulls her arm back from JJ’s, retreating into her own space.

“Oh.” She says simply, starting to wonder who would keep him tied here.

The only other girl he really had in his life was Kiara, and they had been awfully close this past year. She had even gifted him a locket for his seventeenth birthday and it now sat right next to his Saturn charm. It took everything in her not to ask what it was, her curiosity was killing her but she respected his privacy more. But truthfully, y/n couldn’t blame JJ even if she wanted to. Kiara was special, she wouldn’t want to leave her either. She didn’t want to leave any of them.

And then y/n started to realize that she always thought it would be her and JJ. Whenever she imagined the future, JJ was there too. She was realizing that maybe it was selfish of her to just assume he’d always be there. She knew he had dreams of his own, and who was to say that she was involved in any of them?

“Hey now,” he starts when he notices the change in her demeanor, grabbing at her face and pushing at the corner of her lips, playfully trying to force a smile.

“Why’s my y/n so sad?” He says with a pout, putting on a dramatic voice like he’s talking to a hurt child.

She pushed his hands away, trying to look annoyed but failing miserably, not being able to control the smile that follows her laugh.

“Well I’m sorry, my best friend just dropped a bomb that he has some mystery woman he’d follow to the ends of the earth. I guess I’m just a piece of moldy bread to you now, huh? I’ve been replaced.”

She overplays her sadness, saying it dramatically, but truthfully deep down a part of her is hurting at the thought.

His hands have moved to the side of her face.

“Come on now y/n, you’re supposed to be the smart one.”

She places her own hands on his, turning her head to the side slightly in question.

“Oh my god y/n,” he laughs, “are you going to make me say it?”

She remains silent, her face reflecting her deeper confusion, wondering what he was on about. She honestly felt like she had missed something, feeling like he had moved on to a whole new topic all together.

“It’s you, you big dummy!” He exclaims, shaking her a bit to emphasize his point.

Suddenly y/n is shocked and embarrassed, moving her head down, trying to hide from JJ’s gaze.

He laughs again and pulls her in, “I would never leave you y/n. You’re stuck with me.”

She doesn’t reply, but she doesn’t need to, instead, she lets him tuck her into his chest. Her eyes land on that locket of his, and she can’t stop her fingers from playing with the charm.

Then suddenly his hand is running up her arm and grabbing hers.

“Why don’t you just ask already?” He says and she immediately freezes. “I know you want to know.”

She still doesn’t say anything but she shrugs her shoulders a bit. Yes, y/n was dying to know what was in the locket but part of her also felt it was an unspoken line that she shouldn’t cross. It was Kiara that had given it to him, so it was probably something that meant a lot to the two of them, and she didn’t want to pry at their relationship.

Of course, he would tell her if she asked but she never let herself.

“Just open it y/n.”

She looks up at him, still hesitant. But the look on his face reassures her, so she pinches open the locket and immediately smiles when she sees the photo inside. That photo from that fourth of July all those years ago, sitting with his mom on the banket, marshmallow all over his face. She can’t help the bittersweet tears that prick at her eyes, thinking about all that JJ had accomplished, and wishing more than anything that his mother had been there to see it.

Then silently JJ reaches up and opens the locket the rest of the way, and when y/n sees the photo on the other side it feels like all the air has been sucked out of her. It’s a photo of him and her from when they were little, looking like it’s from the same night. There they were, standing next to each other with wide eyes and beaming smiles, sparklers in hand. Trails of light surrounded the sparklers, the children unable to keep them still.

And that was when y/n knew. She knew that it would always be the two of them, somehow and someway. She knew that she would go wherever he wanted or needed to go at the drop of a hat and that he too would follow her without hesitation. And most of all she knew she was lucky. She knew how lucky she was to have someone like JJ in her life.

She closes the locket with tears in her eyes, and rests her palm on his chest, feeling his heart beat wildly. When she finally looks up she sees him tearing up too. She reaches up and wraps her arms around him, holding onto him tightly and he does the same.

“I love you JJ.”

He squeezes her tighter for a moment.

“I love you too y/n.”

And maybe the words meant more to both of them. It seemed like over the years that the lines between loving platonically and loving romantically had blurred. Best friends, soulmates, twin flames, they were always something to each other. But the one thing that they did know was that they had time. They had so much time to figure it out and neither were in a rush to figure it out. What they were now was good, who were they to question it?

TWENTY-TWO

sweet tea in the summer, cross my heart won’t tell no other, and though i can’t recall your face i still got love for you, pack your dolls and a sweater, we’ll move to india forever … passed down like folk songs our love last so long

It’s Friday night and the Fourth of July. y/n has been cleaning the apartment all day, needing everything to be perfect. Everyone lived busy lives now, but they were coming tonight to celebrate. She even decorated. A few balloons tied to chairs and red, white, and blue streamers hanging from the doorway.

She hears the front door opening but doesn’t look up from the counter she was wiping down.

“Are you still cleaning? It’s just the pogues y/n, relax.”

“I know,” She says, folding the last blanket and placing it on the edge of the couch “I just want it to be nice. It’s all going to be so different soon.”

There’s a beat of silence and a bittersweet tension hanging in the air.

“Why are you home so late?” She asks, changing the subject quickly.

He lifts the grocery bag in his hand, “beer” he says simply.

She rolls her eyes. “JJ, we have plenty of beer.”

She starts walking towards the kitchen and JJ trails behind her, pulling the pack of beer out of the bag.

“Oh y/n, you can never have too much beer.” He places the pack in the fridge and then starts taking out a few more items.

“Plus, we can’t do the fourth without our favorite.”

She smiles at the contents on the counter, “how could I forget the s’mores?”

JJ turns back to her and puts his hands on her shoulders.

“Because you’re in overdrive, and stressing yourself out. Go take a nap before they get here. You’ve been up all day and I know you had a late night, you’re tired.”

“No, I was going to make some snacks and -” She protests.

“You don’t need to make anything, Kie said she’s bringing dinner from The Wreck.”

“Well, what about the fireworks?”

“John B has it covered”

“What about -”

JJ cuts her off again, “everything is done y/n, we’re ready for tonight. Go rest.”

She pulls him in, wrapping her arms around him.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

She looks up at him, admiring him for a moment. It was something she caught herself doing often, and if he noticed he never commented on it.

College had been kind to JJ. Once he got a handle on it he thrived in the freedom of it. They were coming up on a year since graduation, and JJ had since shed his childlike habits. He was still himself, the light of the party and loud and still sometimes impulsive but underneath it all, he was a man now. It was evident in the way he carried himself now, broader and more confident. He took his life seriously and was happy to do so.

She smiles up at him, “I’ll take a nap if you come with me.” And when she looks at him with those eyes of hers, JJ simply cannot resist.

“Okay, come on.”

They walk over to the couch, JJ picks up the blanket and unravels it before laying down.

“JJ! I just folded that.” She says, slightly irritated but laying down nearly on top of him anyways.

He only rolls his eyes at the comment, dropping the blanket over them and wrapping his arms around her, y/n melting into him as soon as he does.

Minutes of silence pass, and JJ thinks she’s fallen asleep until she speaks up.

“Are we sure about this?”

“y/n, we’ve spent months talking about this. I promise you we’re doing the right thing, okay?”

She sighs, knowing deep down that he was right, so she lets herself relax and catch up on the much-needed sleep.

-------

Hours later and the night has finally begun. They’re all sitting in the living room, chatting. JJ and y/n exchange a look, and they know it’s time. 

“Alright guys, we have something to tell you all.” Her smile is spreading, but she still turns to JJ for reassurance. He takes her hand in his and the pair turn back to the group.

“We’re moving.” They both spit out at the same time. 

The other four drop their mouths in shock, it wasn’t the news they thought they were getting, but it was still enough of a bomb to catch them completely off guard. 

But the speechless shock only lasts a brief moment before they start bombarding the pair with questions.

“Okay, okay!” y/n shouts, trying to calm all the voices talking over each other. 

“San Francisco, California. That’s where we’re going. I got a job offer and JJ found a few places hiring where he can teach surfing lessons.”

Kiara and Sarah are nearly jumping from excitement, pulling her into a hug. 

“y/n, that’s amazing!” 

“Congrats, baby!” 

“When do you have to be there?” 

y/n’s smile drops and she pulls away. 

“Well, that's the thing…” She starts, glancing towards JJ again, and that’s when he steps in. 

“Our lease for here is up at the end of this month anyway …” 

“You’re moving across the country in less than a month?” 

“We didn’t think it was going to move this fast but things just seemed to line up that way…” 

...

After the excitement and explanation, they’ve migrated into two separate groups, the boys still lingering in the living room. 

“So that’s not the announcement we thought we were getting tonight,” Pope says, nudging JJ. 

JJ looks at him confused, “what do you mean?” He asks. 

“He means,” John starts, sitting up, “when are you gonna ask y/n to marry you?” 

JJ nearly chokes on his drink at that, even spitting a bit of it out. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He asks, “we’re not even dating.” 

The other two glance at each other for a moment before back at him.

“What?” 

“What?” The other two echo back, just as confused. 

“And I thought two of my best friends moving across the country was going to be the biggest news of the night,” John says, taking a swig from his beer. 

“What have you two been doing the past five years then?” Pope asks.

“We’re just … She’s my best friend, you guys know that.” 

“But aren’t you guys more than that?” John asks. “You know, you could have told us you’ve been dating since high school and we’d believe it. You really aren’t together?” 

JJ shakes his head, trying to explain what he doesn’t fully understand himself. 

“No, not like that. We’re just… we’re JJ and y/n. Like we’ve always been.” 

The other two share a small laugh. 

“What?” The blonde asks.

“It was never JJ and y/n,” Pope answers. “It was always jjandy/n.”

“Have you guys really never?” He pries. “... At all? Anything? This whole time? Have you talked about it ever?” Pope continues as JJ shakes his head.

“No… we haven’t, we’ve never had to. I just know I’m always going to have her, and she’s always going to have me. We’ve never questioned or talked about how or in what way.”

“But what are you going to do if she meets someone? If you meet someone? Will you move out? Do you two even know how to function without the other?” Pope spits the questions out at a rapid-fire, genuinely curious.

“Of course, we can function without each other, we aren’t codependent.” JJ sighs, taking a breath, “I don’t know what’s going to happen if we meet people, we’ve never had that problem. She’s never mentioned guys past a hook up so I don’t know.”

“And what about you? What if you meet a girl?”

“I don’t know! Good god, what’s with the third degree?”

“You’ve seriously never thought about the future?” John presses. 

“Not in, that sense I guess.”

“Okay, here, close your eyes. Don’t give me that look, come on just close them.”

JJ rolls his eyes but does as he’s asked. 

“Okay, now, imagine yourself five, maybe even ten years from now. What do you see?”

“I don’t know… I just - I just see y/n.” 

…

In the kitchen, Kiara and Sarah are giving y/n a similarly hard time, although it seems to be phasing her a little less. 

“You know we totally thought the two of you were going to tell us that you were finally engaged, right?” 

y/n rolls her eyes at Sarah, jumping up onto the counter to sit, “I’ve told you guys, we aren’t even dating. I don’t know where you keep getting that.” 

“Still?” Sarah nearly shouts, “You guys still aren’t dating?” 

“Ha!” Kiara cuts in before y/n can reply, “You owe me ten bucks.” 

“Oh, so you guys are betting on us now?” 

“Sarah’s betting.” Kiara says, “I’m making a profit.”

The other two are still standing, leaning against the counter inches away from y/n.  

“What have the two of you been doing this whole time?” Sarah starts asking. “I thought for sure after we graduated college the two of you would finally get together.” 

“They’re their own thing, Sarah, I keep trying to tell you.”

“But you guys are basically together, aren’t you? Is it just a ‘we don’t want to put a label on it’ thing?” Sarah presses.

“No, we aren’t together romantically at all. As I’ve said, I don’t know why it’s so shocking to everyone whenever I remind you.” 

“But do you want to be?” Kiara asks, shifting the tone of the conversation a bit. 

“I don’t know.” She says quietly, thinking it over. 

“I mean, Sarah is right you guys have been together for, well your whole lives really. You guys are moving across the country together. The two of you are pretty much starting your lives together. What if he brings someone home? What if you meet someone?” 

y/n just shrugs, starting to feel the tingling of emotions. 

“To be honest with you, I don’t like to think about it. I mean I’ve dated here and there, and I know JJ has too but it never became anything serious for either of us.” 

That day on the beach all those years ago had been enough to hold her over. The thought of always being together in some way, but now that they were getting older and a new part of life was starting, would that hold true? 

“I just know I want him in my life.” She continues, “I mean, I think part of me always did think that maybe we’d end up together but… I don’t know I just, I guess I just want to make sure we’re together because we want to be, not because we’re all we’ve ever known. Sometimes I get scared that we’re holding each other back, that there’s something or someone we’re missing out on.” 

She looks back up at the two girls, shaking her head at her emotions that seem to be building up. 

“But most of all I just want him to be happy you know? I need to be prepared if it’s not with me. I guess I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’m saying.” 

Sarah places a hand on y/n’s shoulder comfortingly. 

“No, we get it. I think a lot of this is just anxiety from the move, from this big life change coming up. I can tell you, the one thing that’s never going to change is you and JJ. You guys are absolutely not holding each other back. Trust me, one of us would have said something if we were worried.” 

“You can’t see it from the outside.” Kiara jumps in. “It’s not always bad to have someone like you have JJ. Never once have either of you held each other back. You’ve always brought out the best in him and he’s always brought out the best in you.” 

“You really think so?” She asks, looking between the both of them. 

They both nod, pulling the girl into a group hug best they can, just as the boys are walking back in from the living room. 

“Hey!” JJ immediately shouts, walking over to the three girls. “Which one of you made my y/n cry?” 

Sarah wordlessly moves from her side and next to Kiara, making space next to y/n for JJ to slide into, sending a look to Kiara at the words my y/n while doing so. 

“Kiara was telling me a story about work.” y/n says quickly. “You know how I get about the turtles.” 

“Oh yes,” He says, lifting a hand and wiping away the few tears, “that would explain it.” 

“What about you boys?” She asks, nodding at Pope and John as well, “What were you all gossiping about, huh?” 

“John was telling me all about the fireworks he brought. You ready to go light ‘em up?” 

She jumps down from the counter excitedly. 

“Yes, let’s go!” She says, grabbing the large plate that contained chocolate and graham crackers in one hand and a large bag of marshmallows and skewers in the other. 

The rest of them follow the pair out, watching as JJ takes the plate from y/n so she doesn’t have her hands full. 

“Okay,” Sarah says, “I’d put money on a year from now.” 

“Oh my god, Sarah,” Kiara says, giving her a playful shove. 

The rest of the night is good, y/n makes sure to take a moment to let it sink in, all their smiles and all their laughs. 

They set off fireworks, and sparklers, throw poppers at each other’s feet, watch the boys run from one another with roman candles in hand, and JJ and y/n eat their weight in s’mores. The night runs longer than intended, especially since the girls decided to bring the alcohol back out. 

Finally, long after the night has settled and everyone has lingered for as long as they can, the group starts to say goodbye to each other. Dishes and trash are brought back inside, excess fireworks and belongings collected, and goodbyes dragged out until JJ and y/n are left in their apartment.

y/n lets out a long sigh, feeling the night and the drinks and the reality of them leaving catch up to her. It felt a lot more real now that they had told their closest friends. 

JJ notices her lingering by the door and tugs her gently on the arm. 

“Hey, you wanna sleep with me tonight?” 

She nods silently, a grateful smile on her lips. 

“Go change and meet me in there, okay?” 

She moves a little bit slower than usual, weighed down by exhaustion, doing the bare minimum to get ready for bed, simply changing her clothes and brushing her teeth lazily before pulling her hair up and walking to JJ’s room. 

He’s just climbing into bed and she follows without hesitation, curling into him. She thinks about how easy it is with JJ, or maybe natural is the better word. Everything just is with him. 

He notices the way she’s holding his hand tightly and to her chest.

“Hey,” he starts softly, “you know if … if you’re second guessing this whole move, just say it and we’ll stay. Or… just tell me and I’ll stay.” 

“No,” she says quickly, holding him even tighter now. “It’s not that…” She pauses, trying to gather her words and her courage. 

“It’s just, you know that I love you, right? But do you know that I love you?” 

JJ thinks he can’t breathe and worries for a second that his heart beating as fast as it is can’t be healthy. He wonders for a moment if he’s already fallen asleep and if this is all just a dream. 

Because this is the moment he’s been waiting for his whole life.

“I’m starting my life with you. Moving all the way across the country… away from our home, our family, and our best friends. But the thing is, as hard as I know it’s going to be … I don’t care. Because I’ll be with you, JJ. I’ll have you. I don’t want anything else. Anyone else. I never have.” 

It’s more of a confirmation than anything else.

There’s a moment of silence, and she holds her breath. Then another, while JJ tries to find his words. His mind races, processing her precious words. Pieces of their life together flash through his mind.

He’s crying before he can stop himself, overwhelmed.

“Just… come here.” He says desperately, pulling her in and locking her into his hold. 

“You’re going to make me cry.” She says, muffled in his chest. 

If it was anyone else, maybe the tears would be alarming. She would’ve read the situation differently, and taken it as a rejection. 

But it was JJ. And tonight is more of a confirmation than a confession. 

He pulls her even closer, tightens his grip in hopes of emphasizing his words, and just how much he means it. 

“I never told you outright, but you had to have known, right?… that it was always going to be you? I’ve never been good with my words but I hope I’ve shown you. I hope you’ve felt it this whole time. How important you are to me. How much I love you.” 

She escapes his grip, pulling away only so she can see his face. 

“I have never felt anything but loved by you JJ.” 

And then JJ blacks out he thinks. Or maybe it was just a mind-numbing rush of adrenaline. Or maybe it was natural instinct that had been lying dormant this whole time, just waiting for the right moment. 

Because one second he was staring at her glossy eyes, and the next his lips had found hers. 

Finally. 

It’s soft and slightly desperate, dizzying and intoxicating. 

A sensation that both of them had been the feeling they had simply been waiting for their whole lives. 

They only break away to relieve the burning in their lungs. 

“Say it,” she begs softly, a little out of breath and a little drunk on JJ. 

His mind is in a haze, a smile still adorning his lips as he tries to get back to hers. “I love you.” 

“No,” She says, pulling on him to get as close as possible, “the other one. Tell me again.” 

He doesn’t even hesitate, knowing what she means in an instant. 

“You’re my Saturn, y/n.” 

She smiles into his chest, “again.” 

His hand finds her cheek, guiding her face to look up at him. 

“You are my Saturn.” 

“Never stop saying it?” 

He kisses her again, then pulls her back into his side, tucking her into the spot that she’s always belonged in. 

“Never.” 

[blueiscoool]

A Very Rare Tiny Plant not Seen for 108 Years Found in Vermont

The last time a botanist recorded a sighting of false mermaid-weed in the state was in 1916.

Vermont state botanist Grace Glynn has been searching for false mermaid-weed for years, but the spring-blooming herb with dainty flowers has always eluded her—and everyone else. No one had documented false mermaid-weed in Vermont since 1916.

But that all changed last month, when Glynn opened a photo she’d been sent by a colleague. In the image snapped on May 7 by a state biologist surveying turtle habitat, she caught a glimpse of the elusive flower in the corner of the frame.

“I sort of did a double take and rubbed my eyes and couldn’t believe that I was seeing this plant,” Glynn tells WCAX.

When she visited the site in the state’s rural Addison County to investigate, she found hundreds of false mermaid-weed sprigs on both public and private land—the first confirmed sightings in Vermont in more than a century.

The Vermont Department of Fish and Wildlife called the discovery “BOTANICAL BREAKING NEWS,” in a Facebook post announcing the find.

It’s not surprising that false mermaid-weed (Floerkea proserpinacoides) had gone undetected for so long. Each individual plant is “absolutely tiny” with flowers that are “as small as the head of a pin,” per the department. Even when trained experts are out searching for the plant, it’s hard to spot and can be easily overlooked.

What’s more, it only emerges for a short window of time—typically from late April to early June. This is what botanists refer to as an “ephemeral” plant.

Botanists also suspect false mermaid-weed populations have suffered because of extreme flooding, invasive species and human development. Its rediscovery is “a sign that good stewardship by landowners and conservation organizations really can make a difference,” according to the Facebook post.

“It’s a glimmer of hope … in an otherwise grim world,” says Matt Charpentier, a field botanist in Massachusetts, to the New York Times’ Jenna Russell.

The last botanist to document false mermaid-weed in Vermont was a woman named Nellie Flynn, who collected 22,700 plants from around the world during her lifetime. So, amid all the excitement of finding a long-lost plant, Glynn also found herself reflecting on the past.

“It was just amazing to touch this plant and to think, ‘Oh, Nellie Flynn was probably the last person to ever touch this species in Vermont back in 1916,’” Glynn tells Vermont Public Radio’s Zoe McDonald. “And I always think about how there are just these threads through history that kind of tie you to other botanists, and it just adds depth and richness, I think, to an already rich story.”

In Vermont, the plant’s state rank has now been updated from possibly extinct and missing to very rare and critically imperiled. Glynn also plans to send some of the plant’s seeds to a seed bank in Massachusetts that preserves native New England species.

But even though false mermaid-weed has been rediscovered, the work of Vermont botanists is far from finished: They still have another 600 or so rare and uncommon native plants to search for and, ideally, conserve throughout the state.

This is not the first time an unusual plant has made an appearance in Vermont: In May 2022, a citizen scientist discovered nine specimens of a federally threatened orchid, known as the small whorled pogonia, in Chittenden County. It was the first time anyone had seen the plant since 1902, VTDigger’s Ella Ruehsen wrote at the time.

By Sarah Kuta.

[ahmafmohesn]

**A Journey Through Shadows**

My name is Ahmad, and I live in Gaza. As a university student, I’ve found it therapeutic to share my experiences and the struggles my family and I have faced through these wars.

In 2008, when I was just three years old, I witnessed my first war. It was a haunting experience that left a mark on my early years. The second war came in 2012, when I was seven. Then came the third war in 2014, when I was nine. The fourth war started in 2021, when I was sixteen. Now, in 2023-2024, I am nineteen, and I’ve experienced more suffering and pain in these nineteen years than anyone should in a lifetime.

The latest war began on October 7th. It started like any other day for a young man preparing for university, but it quickly turned into a nightmare. There was bombing, massacres, and chaos. We were forced to abandon everything—our lives, our jobs, our homes—and move to the southern part of Gaza, supposedly a safer zone. My family and I didn’t want to leave because we had no place to go, but we had no choice.

For nearly thirty days, we stayed in our home in the Beach Camp near the sea. Many of my relatives joined us, fleeing from the bombings and killings in the northern regions. During this time, finding water and food became extremely difficult. A new building across from the sea had a well, but accessing it was risky. So, we decided to create a makeshift water line stretching over 100 meters. We assembled it from various parts, but installing it was dangerous. We were targeted by naval shelling as we worked.

Every day, we had to walk a kilometer to fetch water, as our home was crowded with over 80 people, including children, women, and the elderly. As the bombings intensified, many of my relatives fled, but we remained. My father was determined not to leave, and only a few of us stayed behind.

As the shelling grew closer, we had to build an escape door in the wall separating our house from the neighbors. This door, built just two days before the attack, saved around twenty lives, including children and the elderly. On a quiet morning, around five o’clock, the shelling became relentless. We fled through the door with whatever belongings we could carry.

During our escape, we witnessed a massacre at a school housing displaced civilians. It was horrific to see children, women, and men injured or dead. We continued our flight through the chaos, moving towards an uncertain future. Eventually, we reached our relatives' house in the Nasr area. They had left for the south, abandoning their home, so we took refuge there.

At that point, we had no food or water. Every day, we risked our lives to get essentials while the bombs fell just a kilometer away. We lived in the garden of a five-story building, where over twenty of us squeezed into a space of about 70 square meters.

On October 11th, a day none of my relatives will ever forget, the bombing intensified dramatically. We were terrorized by leaflets urging evacuation to the south. Everyone fled except for my family, my aunt, her son, and his 2 children. The tanks and army advanced rapidly, under a heavy cover of bombardment.

In one of the attacks, my aunt lost her only son, whom she had devoted her life to raising. We searched for him under the relentless shelling, only to find out later from his wife that he had died. It was the worst day we had ever endured.

This is one story from the many I have lived through during this long-lasting war. Thank you for reading. I hope for your help, as my family and I now live in a tent without food or water.

I hope this adaptation captures the essence of

the original text while being compelling and clear.

@mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @jezior0 @7bitter @tortiefrancis

@mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @jezior0 @7bitter @tortiefrancis

@deepspaceboytoy @post-brahminism @khanger @evillesbianvillain @neechees

@rhubarbspring @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako

@feluka @fiqrr @irhabiya @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria

@timetravellingkitty @deathlonging @briarhips @dirhwangdaseul @mahoushojoe

@toiletpotato @fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @tododeku-or-bust

@softwaring @malcriada @three-croissants @palestine @palms-upturned @bhgfood @igothurtdoingsafetydance @oversensitivebi @idgaf-to-you @ohverthinker @pigeonobsession @pglang @apessimisticperson @qbanalras @bcofit @owengrose @byzantiumhollow @90ndyliars @uqvisddj092hfko @ifyouknowmenoyoudontbitch @unthreadable @hgk477 @ankle-beez @tfaoptimusstan @bfkaji @ihaveathingforwomen @askkakuro @palestine @gadistudung @ihaveathingforwomen @777greywolf @bvnnyb3ast @tttttan-drawing @vfxl @weaverworks

[mindhowyougo]

and now, for some reason, a coda to... zenana?

The first police on the scene are uniform. They take possession of Thursday's gun and politely suggest he and Morse wait a safe distance from the body of the young woman: somewhere still in plain view but where they were unlikely to interfere with the scene. Thursday thought Morse might protest leaving Violetta, but he goes along without argument, following the direction of the uniform's pointing hand like someone drifting through a dream. He nearly walks into a headstone. He does not react even to Thursday pulling him clear.

Thursday's hand feels emptier after: missing the familiar weight of the gun, perhaps, or the warmth of Morse's elbow, or maybe just purpose.

Next on the scene is a middle-aged inspector in a well-cut coat that can't hide the crooked slouch beneath it. He steps off the police motorboat just moored along the canal, takes a brief glance at Ludo's body newly fetched from the water, and then makes a considerably longer tour of Violetta's beneath the arcade. When he gets to them, he implies with sticky English he might be able to make the gun disappear; Thursday replies in tart Italian he rather expected the gun back. Even rusty, the words are sharp, and the deputy inspector jerks as if pricked.

“As you like,” he sighs, more irritated than embarrassed. In short order they are hauled off and handcuffed.

Morse never says a word.

–

There are many kinds of long nights. Time stretches itself out and sleep doesn't come. Life offers no shortage of reasons for the long dark: fear, boredom. Either way you find yourself waiting for dawn, for an excuse to move and pretend again.

But the nights he always finds hardest to bear are the ones that come after – after whatever it is you would have called the real action. The danger has passed but your guard's not fully down; the world has revealed itself to be other than what it was, and you don't know what will come next. But nothing comes next. Nothing becomes that's it? And before you know it, whatever-it-is becomes just another thing you've survived.

He looks at Morse staring down at his lap as they wait in the police station, and he thinks he sees it all in the hard carve of his mouth, the unnatural stillness of his eyes. He could turn to marble right now and be no less alive.

(Survivor of His Own Mistakes the plaque might read, and one day tourists would come from all over and snap clueless photos; small children would climb over his lap and on his back, tuck their chin over the crown of his head; no one would guess his age or that his hair could look almost reddish in certain light, that his eyes had ever held more heart than some of the flesh and blood around them.)

Thursday speaks to a young man who has the look of a constable about him. Five minutes later a hot mug is delivered into his hands. He takes a cautious sniff and mentally shrugs, for it isn't like there is anything else on hand. Sometimes all one needs is something warm.

“Morse,” he says, and he stands close in front of the man so his feet are in his sightline. He waits for him to look up. Tells himself he'll wait at least thirty seconds before laying a hand on his shoulder. (And a lifetime before tipping his chin like his fingers itch to do.)

He is at only nine seconds when Morse stirrs and glances up.

“Drink this,” he instructs, and shoves the mug into his hands.

Morse passes the mug between his hands, searching for a safe way to hold the scalding ceramic. “What is it?” he asks doubtfully, blinking down into the middling brown contents. Just as well he isn't looking at him and cannot see the relief the sound of his voice brings.

“Best not to question it,” he says; Thursday had asked for tea. “Down the hatch, now.”

Wonder of wonders, Morse obeys: tips his head back and take a healthy belt. When he lowers the mug, his face is set in a faint grimace. Likely unable to muster the sincerity for speech, he merely nods his thanks to Thursday.

Thursday finally sits next to him, and his knees ache faintly from his long vigil.

“How long do you think they'll keep us?” Morse asks quietly. He pinches the mug between his knees and tips his wrist to check his watch.

Two bodies and two foreigners; by all rights, they might never leave. Thursday will have to take his pension from this bench.

“Shouldn't be too long,” he says firmly. “They're contacting Thames Valley to check our identities, and I've called the British consulate here in Venice to keep them apprised of the situation. At the very least, I think they'll feel comfortable releasing us on our recognizance, once they got our statement.”

“That's rather optimistic of you,” says Morse, dubious.

“Well, one of us has to look on the bright side.” And if he was a wincing man, he would've done then. He is spared having to see Morse's reaction by the reappearance of the inspector from the canal, and he stands quickly to draw his attention. Like he might shield Morse from the rest of the world with his body.

–

Their continental counterparts wish to talk to them separately. They want the whole story.

It's nothing he wouldn't demand himself, if he was in their position, but he is in possession of a few important facts. Or maybe just the one – Morse, and how unlikely some of his leaps of logic might seem. Add in the language barrier and he is distinctly leery of letting the other man out of his sight. He's heard things about Italian lockups; the same thing they say about English ones, probably, but with a different syllable stressed on the sneer.

“I should be there,” he tells the chief inspector, a peaceable man who'd introduced himself as Ripamonti. “I'm his superior officer. And I'll need to translate for him.”

Chief Inspector Ripamonti is amused. “Your concern does you credit, Inspector, though I confess it also causes me some confusion – you were the one who shot Mr Talenti, were you not? Yes?” He makes a doubtful sound. “It was your gun, and you have admitted all this already?”

He realizes then that a large part of him still thinks of the situation as being Morse's fault. The law can be bloodyminded sometimes, but thankfully less so than people. It's one of his favorite things about it.

“Morse had nothing to do with it,” he confirmed.

Ripamonti smiles and claps. “Then your Morse shall manage just fine. The interview can be conducted in English. And as this is not a military tribunal, there will be no need for your presence.” His tone is not unkind, and he pauses, thoughtfully looking Thursday up and down, dark eyes lingering over his grey hair, the lines of his face. “You were here during the war, maybe?”

Given the other man's age, there was no way to guess a safe answer. So Thursday sticks with the truth.

“Ah, well,” says Ripamonti, and that's all he says.

[ceebit]

content • meeting again in another life. 0.8k words of finding love again.

he finds you again on a rainy morning.

nine-fifteen am, and the bell on the door signals the arrival of a new customer. the barista brightens at the sight of you, water dripping from your dampened trench coat, and he can see your cheeks lift into a smile from where he’s sitting. small droplets of rain dip and dry against your scarf, soaking in the fabric before getting soothed by the heat circulating in the cafe.

your voice is different this time, fleeting in and out of ambient background noise as you converse amicably with the barista. he sips his coffee as he watches and sinks into the cushions of the booth, letting the warmth in the styrofoam cup warm his cold hands.

he catches bits of your conversation—a compliment on their newly dyed hair, a question about a stray you’ve seen a few times around the block, laughter following a gentle jab at your retelling of your mother’s insistence about returning home for the holidays. your order is completed all the while, rocking on your heels as you wait patiently, and you exchange a cheerful thanks before walking around to find a seat.

your eyes meet his and he sees the moment you double take.

as if pulled by an invisible wire, you slowly make your way over to his booth, curious smile on your lips still a bit tentative. he notices your caution and smiles behind his cup, looking down briefly to spare you any means of embarrassment. and yet,

“i’m sorry… this is going to sound weird, but have we met before?”

he wonders if he should tell you the truth. that he’s been through several lifetimes, each one blazing a different path than the last, and has managed to find you—your soul—in every one. that his heart eased somewhat entering the quaint shop he’s been frequenting for a while today, something in his gut telling him he would find his answer here. that he’s been searching for you in this lifetime for years, and that he’s finally found you again.

he looks up to find you still standing, curiosity still ablaze in your eyes. his heart skips a bit at the familiarity and shoves down the emotion lest you leave with haste. all these years, all these lifetimes, and your eyes have remained the same each time.

“i don’t think so,” he settles for saying, and can’t help the smile that grows on his lips when you frown and begin to apologize. “however… that seat isn’t taken, and i’m sure standing while eating isn’t the most comfortable thing.”

you smile at him brightly and his heart thumps.

“that was a little weird, wasn’t it?” you mumble, setting your food on the table before settling in the seat across from him. he looks at you quizzically, so you add, “coming up to a stranger and asking if you know them… i’m so embarrassed. i really am sorry.”

he longs to smooth the furrow in your brow.

“i must have one of those faces,” he muses, and raises his coffee slightly. “cheers.”

oh, he missed the sound of your laugh. your satisfied hum when you sip your drink, and the little wiggle in your seat you do when you’re pleased. he hopes he isn’t staring, but if he doesn’t get to hold you again soon, he fears his heart will pour out the contents of his mind and he’ll never see you again.

and you’re none the wiser, happily biting into a chocolate croissant, and he realizes the feeling in his chest is fondness. the corners of his eyes sting and he quickly takes another sip to blink the tears away.

he’ll take a leap of faith. irrational, his mind sighs, but he’s finally found you and he isn’t going to let you go just yet. he can’t. his heart beats faster and he opens his mouth to—

“hey, there a chance that you might be here within the next week?”

he blinks slowly and you only smile, swirling your drink around gently. your head is propped up with an arm on the table, and you look so cozy against the plush cushions that he can’t say no. couldn’t say no to you if he tried.

“i might be around. you want to see this face again so soon?”

it’s teasing, lighthearted with warmth, and your eyes narrow lightly at the jest. your smile tugs at the corner of your lips, and when you lean forward across table, he smells vanilla and is instantly reminded of late nights in a shared apartment.

“your face just seems so familiar,” you shrug, and he can’t help but smile with you. if only you knew, but that was okay. he’s searched and found you after so long, and he’d do it again and again, and again.

[haveyoureadthispoll]

The solar system most of us grew up with included nine planets, with Mercury closest to the sun and Pluto at the outer edge. Then, in 2005, astronomer Mike Brown made the discovery of a a tenth planet, Eris, slightly bigger than Pluto. But instead of its resulting in one more planet being added to our solar system, Brown’s find ignited a firestorm of controversy that riled the usually sedate world of astronomy and launched him into the public eye. The debate culminated in the demotion of Pluto from real planet to the newly coined category of “dwarf” planet. Suddenly Brown was receiving hate mail from schoolchildren and being bombarded by TV reporters—all because of the discovery he had spent years searching for and a lifetime dreaming about. Filled with both humor and drama, How I Killed Pluto and Why It Had It Coming is Mike Brown’s engaging first-person account of the most tumultuous year in modern astronomy—which he inadvertently caused. As it guides readers through important scientific concepts and inspires us to think more deeply about our place in the cosmos, it is also an entertaining and enlightening personal While Brown sought to expand our understanding of the vast nature of space, his own life was changed in the most immediate, human ways by love, birth, and death. A heartfelt and personal perspective on the demotion of everyone’s favorite farflung planet, How I Killed Pluto and Why It Had It Coming is the book for anyone, young or old, who has ever dreamed of exploring the universe—and who among us hasn’t?

[spacemonkeysalsa]

God of Ambivalence

A tiefling Artificer splits a large stone on a beach to discover a one handed-wizard inside.

Pairing - OC/Gale & Shadowheart/Lae'zel but there will be more as it goes on.

Read Chapter One on Ao3

Read Chapter Two on Ao3

Read Chapter Three on Ao3

Read Chapter Four on Ao3

Read Chapter Five on Ao3

Read Chapter Six on Ao3

Read Chapter Seven on Ao3

Read Chapter Eight on Ao3

Read Chapter Nine on Ao3

Read Chapter Ten on Ao3

Or read Chapter Ten below

With Shadowheart’s encouragement (arguably on her orders), Gale went back to Elion’s room to rest up. He wouldn’t be leaving until the next morning, but there was little to do until then besides gather supplies and try not to exhaust themselves.

Elion pointedly felt that this was more important for Gale. he was still recovery after all. Elion quite felt in the mood for exhaustion.

The fireplace mantle in Shadowheart’s study held some kind of fascinating antique treasure. As soon as he got the chance, Elion had to approach it and look closely. A machine, rather small, but complex in its workings. A pump? It had clearly been cared for tenderly, over and over again, given the various ages and states of the metal. And the metal itself was something. Without even touching it, he thought he felt the whisper of chaos, a long cooled inferno still blazing and blinding in the immediate memory of the machine. “Is this… some kind of very small infernal engine?” from the impressed expression on Shadowheart’s face, his first guess had nailed it.

“Don’t touch that,” Lae’zel warned him sharply. “Not until you understand it.”

He’d been about to pick it up, so he pulled his clawed fingers away, holding up his hands in peace, tail tucking.

Shadowheart distracted herself by searching through the mess on her desk, or perhaps trying to tidy it, or some combination of both, while Lae’zel approached him, holding his gaze.

“That is a heart. The heart of the greatest warrior of your kind to even live.”

“That was inside someone?” Elion balked. That could not be a good story. “Inside a tiefling?”

Biomechanical technology wasn’t unheard of, especially not in the ranks of any faction of the Infernal War, but at a certain point, a living creature’s physical biology was already approaching that state of perfection that all forms could achieve. Trying to enhance a person’s capabilities or physiology through mechanics was one thing, but the burden of machine power was always too great. Either, they needed to have the ability to separate from their tinkered parts, or the creator needed to go entirely the other way with it, and focus on using biological material only to power and perfect machinery. In that second case, the person was lost. By nature, there couldn’t be much left of their original body.

It had always been so, as long as the technology had been viable. Was Lae’zel mistaken? Or, did she mean that the heart belonged to an automaton, and not a tiefling at all? But, in looking at her expression and the way she’d reacted to his question, Elion could only conclude that he hadn’t misunderstood her. She meant to say that this machine had been a tiefling’s heart.

“That would… not be viable in the long term,” he spoke carefully, watching Lae’zel for her reaction.

She smirked, “That’s what everyone always told her. Over and over again. She couldn’t survive long. It made her powerful in the short term, but her life was to be burned out quickly. She proved them all wrong. Tenacity. Determination. A will as strong as adamantine. She hated the damn thing, and wouldn’t surrender to it.”

Elion took another look at the heart, appreciating the discernable lengths of years between the oldest parts and the newest. It would have literally been the struggle of a lifetime, to maintain something so flawed and so vulnerable.

“She almost had me believing she could outlast the engine itself. Unfortunately, your kind have a natural span of years to complete in too short a time, and the astral plane would never be an option for her.”

“The engine ran, up until her death?”

“She removed it herself, and put it in my hands, when the time came.” Lae’zel nodded curtly towards the heart. “If you do anything to damage it, I will place your heart next to it.”

“Understood,” said Elion, and he took the curt nod she gave him as permission to finally put his hands on the device.

The heart was much heavier than he’d expected. He wasn’t sure he could damage it, it felt so sturdy. The thinnest pieces of its overall structure still weighed with something more than their mass. And the way he felt holding it. No wonder so many Gondians of his parent’s generation had fallen into the employ of one Archdevil or another. The temptation to work with such material was exquisitely strong.

“There’s scraps, too,” Shadowheart cleared her throat. Her voice, a little thick, like perhaps she’d been trying to swallow some emotion. “In that chest there.”

He was fairly certain that they were only being so nice to him because they felt some guilt about sending him off with a maimed wizard to track down an old friend in the hopes that maybe devils wouldn’t come after them. It hadn’t all been decided out in the open, but Elion had made up his own mind; he wasn’t going to leave Gale to do this alone, or even to travel with just Erakis as company. Perhaps he’d only be away a few days, but in any case, he was going with him to meet Master Rolan at the very least.

“Thank you. I’ll bring all this back,” he promised, setting the heart carefully in the chest, with the scrap parts. “I promise I won’t harm it. I’m just going to see if I can’t get a little inspiration from its design.”

He waited for Shadowheart to nod her approval, and noticed her eye again. He’d thought it was false when he’d first met her. It lingered a little, compared to the other one. Arabella had indicated there was something special about it.

It probably wasn’t polite to ask to examine someone’s eye.

As if reading his thoughts Shadowheart challenged him, “why are you staring, Elion?”

“...I was curious about your eye,” he might as well admit it.

“Ah. It’s gotten more noticeable in my old age. I suppose the ocular muscles are finally getting tired.”

“Arabella indicated you could see invisibility with it? Do you know if it was crafted by an Artificer?”

“I don’t actually know much about it,” Shadowheart admitted. “And no, you can’t examine it.”

“Fair enough,” and it was. Elion picked up the chest. “Thank you, again,” he took the lot with him out to the forge.

Master Faydor had gone back to his chisel and the intense way he was studying the stone told Elion that now wasn’t a good time to interrupt his process. Erakis rested on the stone bridge that led out of the sanctum, legs dangling over the side as he contemplated something in the ravine below. The animals were all in their post-supper stupor, cuddling together with a napping Arabella, and a meditating Xan.

He took a moment to feel the slightest guilt for shattering their peace, then set to work, alighting the forge and stoking the fire.

He didn’t have the most ideal tools on hand, but he had everything he needed.

He wouldn’t harm the heart. He was fairly certain Lae’zel absolutely meant what she said. But contemplating its craft gave him a resting place for his vision to map out something new. And the infernal scrap that they’d kept in the chest was intriguing material to work with. The design of the little engine was inherently flawed, but he could learn something from it, just by looking at those flaws.

Elion came to most conclusions when he wasn’t paying attention. He’d always liked to work with his hands, and he theorized that it was during the process of craft that his mind worked in the background. He always came away from the workbench with scattered memories of what he’d thought about during his time. Instead, he held images of the work at one stage or another along with little opinions and convictions he maybe hadn’t owned before.

Thoughts like:

‘Tis a sign of maturity to forgive one’s parents. 

It might well be their fault I’m a tiefling, but they cared for me when others would have felt perfectly justified to drown or abandon me as an infant.

Do I like making things because I’m able to envision a form of perfection with such ease? Did they instill that in me? Did Gond?

Will I ever look at something broken without imagining it whole? 

What do others mean when they say, beyond repair? A myth, surely.

Maybe, deep down, I wanted to become an adventurer. Staying in the Gate would have made it so easy to settle down and tinker. Maybe coming out here into the wilds wasn’t for the express purpose of being taken far afield from my path, but I had to know it was a possibility. I had to want that.

His mind buzzed, and he felt truly at one with himself for the first time in many months, as he shaped new fingers from discarded, blazing dregs of infernal scrap.

[butternuggets-blog]

FOR WANT OF A NAIL

@baldwin-montclair @adowobsessed @sylverdeclermont @nicki-mac-me @thereadersmuse @kynthiamoon @wheresthesunshinesblog @adowbaldwin @beautifulsoulsublime @lady-lazarus-declermont @adarafaelbarba-blog @dogblessyoutascha

Part Fourty-Eight

Summary:  Baldwin Montclair had a string of ex girlfriends, a single child, and a  lifetime longer than most people could dream of to make all kinds of  mistakes. His family knew one which kept coming out of the woodwork to  irritate him every other century

Also on AO3

'Come along!' Jaquob gestured for Yvette and the others to follow him as he walked down the dirt path towards the woods.

They had arranged the secret playdate weeks ago, carefully coordinating one another's schedules until everyone was available. The only other people who knew were Yvette and Jaquob's bodyguard Vincent, who had been tailing them, the other children's parents, Jaquob's mother Loyse, and Martin, who believed in fostering independence in his daughter.

'I hope that the apple tree you saw has fruit!' Honnorée was the youngest of seven, the daughter of weavers who had moved to Dôle in search of better prospects for their business. She had met Jaquob when he had come into her family's shop to buy a new basket as a birthday present for his mother, and the two nine-year-olds had become fast friends.

'I like apple with cheese' Porret's father was a watchmaker; he had made several clocks for Martin over the years, and his son had played with Yvette through many long business meetings.

'I hope there is blackberries!' Symonne was the daughter of a roofer and his wife, and had been introduced to Yvette when her father had taken a contract to make repairs to Martin's townhouse. 'I like blackberry jam.'

'They only grow in France' Yvette pat Symonne on the arm sympathetically as they stomped through the undergrowth.

'But we have blackberry jam at home!' Symonne looked at her friend, confused.

'Yes but it had to come from a long, long, long way away,' Yvette explained.

'I am not sure that is how food works' Symonne shook her head. Suddenly, they realised that the two of them and Porret had been slowly slipping behind, so the trio of four-year-olds linked hands and hurried after the older children.

****

The apple tree did have fruit on it, which they picked, and Honnorée had packed a sack of cheese and bread, so they settled down for a picnic in the middle of the clearing.

'I was introduced to Walraven yesterday' Honnorée said quietly.

'Walraven?!' Symonne, Yvette and Porret shrieked. Honnorée giggled at the look on their faces.

'Why did you not fetch me?!' Jaquob demanded.

They had been eagerly anticipating the arrival of Honnorée's fiancé for months. Walraven's father and Honnorée's had originally been members of the same guild, and had kept in touch when Walraven's father moved to the County of Flanders.

The children had been introduced to each other as long-distance friends as a joke, but as their friendship blossomed their parents began to actually consider a lovematch. Honnorée's parents had been careful to stress, however, that she was in no way obligated to see the engagement through, and the wedding would not take place until the children were at least sixteen.

'What is he like?' Yvette asked.

'He is kind,' Honnorée beamed.

'Good.' Jaquob nodded.

'I hope I marry someone kind' Yvette poked the ground next to her.

'Will you marry a prince?' Symonne asked excitedly. 'I wish I could marry a prince.'

'You would have a lot of things to do if you marry a prince,' Porret chimed in.

'I would not mind as long as he was kind,' said Yvette.

________________________________________________________________

'ɸatīr?'

'Mm?'

'Am I engaged to be wed?'

Martin nearly choked on his dinner.

Coughing into his napkin, Martin shuffled his chair closer to Yvette.

'Where has this question come from, dereling?'

'Honnorée is engaged.'

Martin smiled.

Of course.

Yvette was gazing up at him, curiosity lighting her eyes. His daughter and her friends had talked of nothing but the boy's arrival for weeks; he really should have seen this sort of question coming.

Martin slid out of his chair and knelt beside his daughter so he could look her in the eye.

'No, you are not engaged. Nor do I have any plans to sell you off to the highest bidder.' Martin took Yvette's hands in his own.

'Your health and happiness comes before anything else. And when you marry, I want it to be out of love, not obligation or duty.'

'Really?' Yvette asked, surprised.

'Yes. I want a daughter, not a legacy.'

Author's Notes

Dôle was the capital of the Free County of Burgundy (Franche-Comté). It was bordered by the Duchy of Burgundy to the west, and the Kingdom of Arles to the east. It was part of the Holy Roman Empire, and during the reign of Philip the Bold Dôle served as the centre of the county's new council and parliament.

Arranged marriages were not typical for peasants, as there was really no great material benefit for either party. Land owners, lesser and upper nobility, and royalty, didn't have the luxury of marrying for love and so arranged marriages were considered quite normal.

Most European nobles married quite young (as early as 12 or 13), and there have been famous examples of pregnant mothers as young as 14 years old (Lady Margaret Beaufort, for example). However peasants often got married in their 20s, and many women remained unmarried, or worked before entering into a marriage and continued to work after they were wed.

The County of Flanders was part of the Low Countries, located along the Nort Sea. It is now known as Belgium.

ɸatīr = father

"Even so after many centuries of people eating with their hands and wiping them on anything that came to hand, a version of a fabric napkin did make its appearance in the Middle Ages. Only to disappear from many tables with the introduction of the fork from Italy in the 17th century which took the mess out of eating." Talking Tables UK

dereling = darling (I used a Middle English spelling, because I couldn't find a Proto-Celtic spelling)

Martin is still writing Baldwin letters he won't send.

[somewhatavidreader]

wlw wuxia/xianxia short films

The Fox Spirit and the Little Priest (1)

The Demonic Lord and the Virtuous Cultivator (2)

The Courtesan and the Female Scholar (3)

A Search Through Nine Lifetimes (4, 5, 11)

Adorkable Shimei x Shijie (6, 7)

Cat in the Eastern Palace (8)

I Became the Protagonist of a Quick Transmigration Novel??? (9)

Three Hundred Years Later (10)

Cross-dressing Female Bodyguard Meets Runaway Princess (12)

[myfavouritelunatic]

The Blacksmith

Our power polycule is together and all is well in Pelargir. Or is it?

Pairing: Halbrand/Sauron x Female Reader & Galadriel x Female Reader (with some light Haladriel/Saurondriel of course)

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Some more light smut 😜

Links to Chapter One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Twenty-One, Twenty-Two, Twenty-Three, Twenty-Four, Twenty-Five, Twenty-Six, Twenty-Seven, Twenty-Eight, Twenty-Nine, Thirty, Thirty-One, Thirty-Two, Thirty-Three, and Thirty-Four!

Chapter Thirty-Five

The sound of birds flitted in through the window along beams of sunlight. Eyelids slowly opening, you took in the picturesque blue sky of this new day. The sleep from which you woke was heavenly, much like the view to your left. Halbrand lay peacefully next to you, his arm across your chest, his messy hair covering half his face. You grinned so wide, your love for him bursting out of you. Though it was then you remembered your other companion, the Lady Galadriel, and remembered the feel of her lips on your skin. Holding your grin, you turned your head to the right to drink her in, but were met with an empty sight. She was not in the bed.

Your stomach dropped and your mind began to buzz anxiously. Was the morning light too sobering for her? Had she regretted going to bed with you, with Halbrand? Perhaps it was too much for her, this you would understand. Elves generally only took one love in their long lifetimes, and Galadriel had already shared herself with her lost husband Celeborn. It broke your heart a little to think your actions last night might have hurt her.

Slipping delicately out from under your husband's grasp, hoping not to wake him, you treaded lightly out of your chamber to see if Galadriel was somewhere in the house. Thankfully, you did not have to search long. "I do hope you were planning to put some clothes on before going outside to find me." she spoke softly, humour in her tone. Turning in the direction of her voice, you saw her in the washroom, bathing in your tub, steam rising from her skin. You felt your cheeks redden a little, suddenly aware of your still nude form. "You can't be blushing now, not after everything we did." Maybe the morning was sobering for you instead.

"Come here." she commanded you, and you obeyed, wandering slowly towards her, feeling the warmth of the water in the air before it even spilled over your body. "How long have you been awake?" you asked as you stepped into the bath. "Since before dawn." she admitted, gliding across to you, the sound of water splashing against the tub filling your ears. "I've been feeling rather restless, my mind will not quieten." You wrapped your body around her then, and she rested her head gently over your beating heart. "I've a good ear if you wish to speak. I think I owe you quite the listen, Galadriel." you chuckled lightly, running a hand through her damp blonde locks. She placed a gentle kiss on your breast and sighed.

"There's… just so much that has been uncovered… I've learned secrets about myself that not even I was aware existed. Or at least… secrets I had been desperate to hide. I followed you both all the way here, not only because I wanted to end your lives… but because I missed you. I wanted to see you both again. And I loathed myself for it. Part of me thought at least if I killed you that then not only would Middle-earth be free… but so would I. I would be able to move on with my life and keep my secrets hidden. Nothing prepared me for this. For the confusion I now feel." "The last thing I wish to do, Galadriel, is cause you any pain. I have done my share of that already. If you would rather take your leave of us, of this city, I would let you."

Galadriel rose to face you, shaking her head profusely. "That is not what I wish." She gazed at you with determination, unflinching and serious. You raised your hand to her face, stroking her soft cheek, warm water trickling down your arm. She leaned in slowly, pausing at the shortest of distances from you, almost asking for permission. You acquiesced and let your lips meet, the same hand that held her cheek now held her head in place against you. The kiss was one of love, of pure adoration. Your way of reassuring the she-elf that she was cared for, wanted, and needed. That you were here for her to ease her mind however you could.

You felt her tongue begging entrance, and you let her in, deepening the kiss, your passion for each other growing. Both of you quickly became lost in each other, every touch containing a new spark of delight. Though after a few moments, Galadriel broke away from you. You watched her eyes as she did so, saw her gaze drift to Halbrand's wound on your neck, then followed her hand as it fearfully roamed up her wet body, finding her own gash. The she-elf's eyes darted around in panic, her breathing quickening.

"Are you alright, Galadriel?" You reached out to comfort her, but she recoiled. "Forgive me… I… I need some solitude." With those words, she rose out of the tub, hurriedly moving back into your chamber. You could hear Halbrand's voice try to question her, but he got no reply. Then you yourself moved with speed out of the tub, making swiftly for your chamber. Though as you approached the door, dripping water with every step, Galadriel flew past you, the lace sleeves of her gown billowing behind her as she fled down the stairs and out into the sunshine.

You did not follow, only reaching for a towel on the rack just inside the washroom door. Wandering into your bed chamber you took in the sight of Halbrand, bare chested and dazed. You dried yourself a little and crawled onto the bed next to him, feeling your brow furrow with concern. Your love sat up against the headboard, unsurprised at the turn of events. "I think we… may have overwhelmed her last night." you declared. "I did not intend to upset her or make her doubt herself. Everything just… happened." "It happened the way it was supposed to. The way it needed to. She is undergoing the same struggle as you when I told you of who I am. You ran from me too, remember?"

As always, your love was right about these matters. You thought back to how much turmoil you felt when you ran from Sauron that day in the woods, scared beyond belief. Confusion racked your brain so completely, you had felt so desperately lost. This must be nothing compared to what Galadriel was feeling at this moment. Her long life and experiences no doubt weighing heavy upon her.

There was however something else that surprised you all last night, and you had somehow forgotten about it until now. Not only had your feelings for Galadriel come forth, but it seemed other unmanifested emotions had also surfaced. Halbrand and Galadriel also cared for each other, longed for each other. Though witnessing your love proclaim as much had not been the shocking part. It was the she-elf, speaking of her desire for Halbrand, for Sauron, that was something you didn't think either of you could have foreseen. You couldn't help but wonder then, who she might love more, giving you an unexpected thrill at the thought of having to win over her affections. Though, you knew of course, who you loved more. There were just two different kinds of powerful love coursing through you for each of them now, incomparable.

"Then she will just need time." you stated, trying to reassure yourself. Halbrand nodded, running a hand through your hair. "Speaking of time…" "Yes?" "Can we just lay here, all day, and do nothing else?" he smiled at you dreamily, the sun's rays twinkling in his hazel depths. Your eyes couldn't help but drift to the open door, and how you wished to see Galadriel walking back through it. Halbrand placed his hand gently on your chin, moving your head back to face his. It was then you returned your husband's loving gaze, letting him pull you close to him to capture a kiss. Moaning a little into his mouth, you removed your lips from his, but only for a moment enough to say, "Yes, my king. We can do that." Halbrand smirked at you before resuming the kiss, pulling your body onto his in the sweetest of embraces.

And the two of you did just that, wrapped up in the sheets and each others limbs, back and forth between conversation and copulation, as the sunshine outside began to fade behind the clouds. The scent of rain permeated the air now, a far cry from the spring like awakening of the morning, with clouds of grey varying in shades, only darkening as time went on. "We should probably go find Galadriel, my love." you suggested, ready to return to the world. "Before the rain gets too heavy." "I suppose we shall. I had half expected her to return by now. Ready for round two." Halbrand snickered, before letting his mouth suck on your throat. You gasped in delight. "We're never getting out of this bed, are we?" "That's the idea, my queen." he hummed into your skin, lips and teeth grazing you.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Someone was at the front door, you could just hear them rapping on the wood over the rain that was beginning to increase. For a fleeting second you considered it could be the she-elf, but she likely would not knock, it wasn't exactly her way. "Halbrand?" "Yes…" He was continuing his kisses along your skin, trying to claim every inch of you. "…my love?" "Would you be a kind husband and get the door?" Halbrand laughed, ending it with a sigh. "If I must." He placed a final kiss on your lips, before exiting the bed and pulling on some trousers, wandering out of your chamber with no tunic on. Sure to give the knocker something to gossip about, the sight of their bare chested king. Taking the opportunity your isolation had afforded you, you decided to dress quickly, and desiring something comfortable you chose the plum dress. Taking a seat at the vanity, you gazed at your reflection as you gently combed your hair, detangling the messy strands your husband was responsible for.

You could hear voices coming from downstairs, all male, followed by the stomping of feet up the stairs and towards you. In the mirror you now saw your brothers standing in the doorway, both dripping wet from the rain. Noticing their expressions, you spun fast to look at them directly. Their faces were white as sheets, Azrahin was struggling to keep it together, his anguish clear. Târikun's tears attempted to hide themselves with the rain drops on his cheeks, but you watched them fall from his eyes. Halbrand walked over to stand beside you, placing a tender hand on your shoulder. You were thankful for his touch in this moment.

"What is it?" you asked, anxiety beginning to creep in. "I'm afraid…" Azrahin began, but he paused, unwilling to finish his words. "Brother… just say it." you implored him. "I'm afraid we bring bad tidings, sister." Your heartbeat began to race as Halbrand squeezed your shoulder, sensing your distress. "What has happened?" "We… we were exploring the market… looking for some fresh fruit to snack on… and… and we overheard… we overheard a conversation we could not believe." "They are plotting to end you both." Târikun chimed in, cutting to the chase and saving his older brother. "Who?" Halbrand demanded, and you swore you felt the temperature rise in his palm. "Many. It seems a revolt is nigh."

"Are… are you sure?" you stammered, going into shock. Azrahin nodded gravely. "There was a small gathering, in a secluded part of the market. We counted twenty, maybe thirty citizens." "Did you recognise any of the rebels?" inquired Halbrand, really asking if Galadriel was amongst them. "Aye." Târikun admitted, bowing his head a moment. "There were two women at the forefront." Your brother turned his gaze on you. "One was your red headed friend I saw you with at the feast yestereve. The other… was Bronwyn." Olwenna. Bronwyn. Your stomach dropped sharply and you felt as if you might be sick. "Bronwyn?" gasped your king, taken aback. "But why… what were they saying?"

"That…" Azrahin began, steadying himself. "That is the part I wished I didn't believe." He sighed, before revealing all to you and your husband. "Bronwyn claims she saw you kill Olwenna's husband. Garion was his name?" he asked Târikun to confirm, and he did so with a small nod. You and Halbrand locked eyes then, and for the first time, you saw fear in his hazel orbs. Tears were welling up in your eyes, and your husband reached for your hand, holding it tightly as Azrahin continued. "She saw something in the two of you that was… evil. A darkness swept over you, she said. She told everyone listening that the king snapped Garion's neck, and the queen gutted him to pass his death off as a casualty of the battle."

Bronwyn had witnessed the entire murder it seemed. How could you be so careless? No wonder she had recoiled from you as you tried to comfort her over Theo. "Then your friend told the crowd…" Now it was Târikun who wished not to speak, though he knew he must. "She told the crowd that… you massacred an entire village… barely a week ago… is… is this true, sister?" His voice shook as he asked the question, terrified for the answer you knew was coming. Releasing Halbrand's touch, you paced towards your brothers, using all your might to keep your tears from becoming you. "There is much I haven't told you. About me, about father, about mother. I need you to hear everything before you cast judgment. Let us go downstairs and-"

"No." Azrahin spoke for the pair of them, but they were both unobliging with your request. "Whatever it is, you say it right here. Right now." You felt Halbrand at your side once more, locking his fingers tightly with yours. You took a deep breath, and let the truth leave your body, entering your brothers ears, praying they would not run. They listened intently as you told them about your father and Waldreg, and how they carried out Sauron's plan to bring fire and ash down upon the Southlands; about how you were swayed to their devious way of thinking as a small child who didn't know any better. You told them about how that changed when your mother died, and how you've been seeing her in your dreams, though you were still unsure as to why. You told them that you and Halbrand were fighting a war within yourselves, that the light was winning, but some battles it did not. The decimation of that village was the resulting loss.

Their faces went through the gamut of emotions as they let each single word sink in, grasping what it all meant. "But why did this… darkness… only infect you? Why not us?" "Because it was destined for your sister. As she was destined for me." spoke up Halbrand, wise when the time called for it. "Don't worry, I think each of you has some darkness within." you stated, feeling your dismay from the other night return. "What's that supposed to mean?" Târikun asked, offended. You just sighed, deciding in the scheme of things right now, it wasn't worth pursuing. "Nevermind."

Silence permeated the air, with only a clap of thunder from above breaking it. Your brothers were thinking, considering everything you had said, before deciding what to do with the knowledge they had learned. "Are you both certain that you are on a path towards goodness? That you seek to atone?" asked Azrahin, needing to be sure. "Yes. Wholeheartedly." you assured him desperately. "Then why did you kill Garion?" Târikun interjected, not yet satisfied.

You looked to Halbrand, rage beginning to boil under his skin. He closed his eyes, gathering himself, no doubt trying to vanish the memory of what Garion did to you. And what he then did to him. His eyes opened, an intense gaze now on Târikun as he answered his question. "Because Garion tried to kill your sister." Halbrand chuckled lightly at your brothers stunned reactions to this. "Left that part out did they? How convenient." "My love, perhaps Bronwyn didn't see-" "She saw enough. All she needed." In frustration, Halbrand let go of your hand and began to pace the chamber rapidly. "You said they are plotting to end us. Did you happen to hear their plan?" you asked your brothers, determined to put a stop to it before things got out of hand.

"They said that Bronwyn would call for you both, ask to meet you in the town square. Then, ambush you." revealed Azrahin. "After that, we'd heard enough, and ran here as fast as we could to warn you." "And to figure out who's side we should be on." admitted Târikun. You took a hand of each of them, holding them up and close to your chest, eyes darting back and forth between them, pleading with them to see reason. "You are with us, are you not?" The two men exchanged knowing looks, and without hesitation placed their other hands on top of your own. "You are our family. We're not going to abandon you. We will stand beside you." "Until the very end, silly sister."

You smiled then, for what felt like the first time in forever. This news had been so daunting, so unexpected, you had almost forgotten how to. Suddenly your brothers pulled you into a tight embrace, and the three of you stood there holding each other, whilst Halbrand continued to pace the room, his fear taking hold. Realising this, you left the arms of your brothers and stepped towards your husband, blocking his movements, taking his hands in yours. "It's going to be alright my love. We will stop this uprising before it occurs. We will sway them back to us, back to the light." You placed a tender hand on his face, his stubble tickling your skin. Halbrand leaned into your touch and took a deep breath. "You are right, my love. We will."

In that moment, the storm ceased, water from the sky no longer crashing loudly upon the earth. And as if on queue, another presence entered your household, standing dripping in your doorway. Galadriel had returned.

Tagging: @denzit @heronamedhawks @pursuitseternal @coraleethroughthelookingglass @hikarielizabethbloom @restless-tides @imjustsuperweird @vaguelyvibin @gil-galadhwen

[kendrene]

It’s not the first time Alicent gets in trouble because of Rhaenyra. Won't be the last either. It’s a first, however, that she disobeys a direct command from her father without the Princess instigating at her side. 

It’s very much on brand for Rhaenyra to get herself into all sorts of trouble, and quite concerning when she doesn’t. Nine years old Rhaenyra had tried her hand at arson. Topped that the following season by breaking and entering into her father’s private study. For the span of one short, hideous summer, just before turning two and ten, she self-elected court thief — a career choice that Alicent recalls with fondness and dread mixing in her gut. 

It starts small, always. The fire that nearly burned the stables to a crisp was kindled by a child’s innate curiosity and a piece of broken glass. The impromptu lockpicking had been the end result of a foolish, stupid dare. With the stealing — which Rhaenyra still insists is the simple innocent transference of any given object from the environment to her pockets —  it happened the same way. Bits and bobs nobody would miss, the Septa's prayer book, once the Maester’s favorite quill. In her defense, everything eventually reappeared, if not where the owners had last left it. Rhaenyra has never been the best at strategy however, and so she's often caught red-handed — and Alicent with her. She's resigned herself to it, thinking it part of her role as favored companion. 

Punishment is the payment for the reward of sharing in the spotlight of her betters.

Except the former is not doled out as equally as she lets her friend believe. She's sure not a hand, not the tip of a finger were ever laid on Rhaenyra.

Alicent has tried to hate her for it, coming close whenever the sting of the cured leather on the skin of her buttocks and thighs is so fresh as to make it impossible to sit. Ultimately, she can't. 

She recognizes these antics for what they really are. A cry for some attention, the blundering attempt to be seen as something other than a furthering of the Targaryen line.

But now Rhaenyra's mother is dead and burnt, and her younger brother is buried, and in the eyes of the realm she's the Heir, a would-be Queen, a fertile womb, a liability.

The time for pranks is over.

Outside the Hand's quarters, the castle is a kicked anthill, is buzzing with alarm. Targaryen soldiers in red and black patrol all hallways in small groups, and larger parties — sometimes directed by an officer, sometimes by a member of the Kingsguard — search through nook and cranny, barge into every single room. Alicent risks discovery twice. Almost comes face to face with her father in the gardens, and it is only by virtue of the quick thinking on her part that she avoids the humiliation of being apprehended. 

She has to wait for them to leave, crouched behind a rounded bit of shrubbery for minutes.  The search party is so close to her on the other side of the prickly foliage that she could reach out and touch the nearest man if she chose to, so close that she can hear them shift in place and stomp their boots to ward off the briskness of the air.

It’s an eternity. A lifetime. Cramps bite at her right thigh and she brings her center of gravity forward. Winces when her sleeve gets snagged on the greenery and several twigs snap. Fortunately, the pop-crackle is lost in the arrival of another group of soldiers.

"She's not in the Godswood, m'Lord." One of them says, and her father swears loudly. These are his retainers, the sigil of House Hightower displayed proudly on their chests. "We could comb through the gardens again," Alicent clamps a hand over her mouth and wills herself not to breathe. "But it's probably no use."

Her father shakes his head. She can't quite see his face from where she's hiding; only a subtle, angry twitch of muscle in his jaw. 

"The King is right. She must have sneaked off to the city. Still, it was worth a try." The sigh he lets out is more of a low rumble, and he seems on the verge of adding something else, something that Alicent can guess — somehow — is far from complimentary. Then, he reconsiders. "Come. I want to bring the Princess back before nightfall."

They walk off, gravel crunching underfoot, armor jingling softly. Alicent doesn’t pay them any mind. The world is hushed beneath the rush of blood in her ears, drowned in the frantic staccato of her heart. It’s not fear that has her pressing a hand to her chest, that has her throat constricting until she’s forced to fight for air — it’s rage.

It’s not that she hasn’t been angry before. She’s been mad at Rhaenyra for her obliviousness, because she fails to see that what sets her above the rest of them won’t shield those close to her from consequences. She’s been so mad at her mother who has left her behind, in a world where love is scarce and comes at a steep price. She’s been angry with her father most of all, for having forgotten her, lost as he is in the sea of his own grieving.

But she’s been taught from a young age that she’s to swallow it all down. That she’s to sit pretty and still and quiet, and let those that know what’s best for her do all the talking. 

Princess, her father had called Rhaenyra, and the omission of her rightful title has Alicent’s head swimming with an unpleasantness of thoughts. He’s always been so careful about what is right and proper, especially in public, and that he’s stopped being careful now — she stands, and vows to find Rhaenyra before anyone else does.

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Resident: Firelake

Aliases / Nicknames: Fire, Liarlake

Gender: she-cat

Sexuality: bisexual, panromantic

Family: unnamed mother, unnamed father, Shimmerbranch (daughter), several unnamed kits, Finchoak (mate)

Other Relations: unnamed mentor, unnamed apprentice

Clan: SkyClan

Rank: elder

Characteristics: depressed, loving mother, has echolalia

Murder Motive: to protect her daughter from the world

Number of Victims: 1

Number of Murders: 1

Murder Method: inflicting sickness through injury

Known Victims: Shimmerbranch

Victim Profile: her daughter

Cause of Death: cardiac arrest

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story: 

She was a good mother.

If there was one thing about Firelake that she wanted everyone to know, it was that. She was a good mother.

She did what she did to save Shimmerbranch, even if it's hard to understand.

She wasn't Firelake's first litter, but none of her kits made it to warriorhood.

She was inexperienced with the first little ones, and her heavy sleeping made her fail to notice when two of her three kits snuck out of camp. One of the searching patrols found only one of them, upset at being caught but otherwise overjoyed with his adventure. That is, until he found out that the sister he had snuck out with was found not breathing. It had seemed that she had fell from a tree she had attempted to climb, and died instantly.

The only silver lining in their bleak world was that the tragedy brought the family closer together.

And then her son was taken by a fox when he tried to protect his remaining sister. To make up for the other one's death, Firelake figured, but it didn't matter, because his sister would die from fox wounds the next day anyway. They were only nine moons old.

The pain cut Firelake deep. She never recovered, not really, not truly.

After some moons, she and Finchoak tried for new kits, a new start.

When they were born healthy, she allowed herself to hope.

What a fool she was.

This time, StarClan was cruel. They waited until all of the kits were almost warriors, allowing her so many moons to love them so much, before ripping them away from her.

A war had broken out between SkyClan and ShadowClan, the battles of it taking the lives of three of her kits. Her last kit, a son, died in a botched hunt during his final assessment.

It took a long time before Firelake was ready to even consider having another litter. She didn't hold out much hope, and when her mate, her love, was taken by greencough during her pregnancy, she only felt dread.

This time, she only had a single, little kit. A daughter. The only light in her life. How much longer until that light, too, was snuffed out?

But Shimmerpaw was a miracle. She not only made it to apprenticeship, but warriorhood as well!

Firelake was astonished, overjoyed, but most of all she was terrified.

When was it all going to go wrong? Any day, she would hear that her daughter was taken by a fox, a badger, or that she was taken in a battle or drowned in the lake.

She had to make sure that Shimmerbranch could nevr leave camp again, and that she could always stay by her mother's side.

She heard the stories of that brown cat from ThunderClan....

What other choice did she have?

Shimmerbranch didn't see her push the tree. It's roots were mostly unearthed and it was already leaning. She only had to give it one push...

She had judged it perfectly.

The 'accident' didn't kill Shimmerbranch, thank StarClan, but it would damage her just enough to keep her confined in the camp for lifetime.

Shimmerbranch was distraught beyond words. That was understandable. She had lost the use of both her hind legs and would never be able to hunt or fight again. She didn't realize that that meant she was safe now, no wound inflicted in a battle or broken bone caused by a predator would ever hurt her.

Better yet, Firelake could spend all of her time next to her daughter, keeping her close and being Shimmerbranch's biggest comfort. She didn't see the irony.

Soon after the incident, Firelake retired. It was mainly to spend more time with her daughter, but she was old enough to be an elder at this stage in her life anyway.

Her time as an elder was the happiest for her in a long time. Her daughter was safe and okay, and Firelake no longer had to worry about losing her. She could relax.

Or so she thought.

She had worried about the medicine cats' warnings at first, but when seasons passed and Shimmerbranch was thriving fine, she had thought that the threat of sickness was gone.

She couldn't believe it when Shimmerbranch succumbed to illness quickly after a bought had reached the Clan.

She had tried so hard to keep her safe.

She did so much for her.

Was it all a sick joke? A punishment? To give her hope each time, just to take it away?

How could she live without her kit?

Well as it turned out, she couldn't.

Additional Information: 

--Inspired by the line "Did you hear about that, mother? Broke her daughter's legs in two And said, 'It's too dangerous out there to walk, so I had to save you'" from the song Bruno Is Orange.

--I just want to clarify that I do not think that being paralyzed is a bad thing. I DO think that purposefully injuring someone in order to paralyze them is bad.

--Shimmerbranch succumbed to the sickness easily because of her sickness, making Firelake somewhat responsible for her death. Bu even if Shimmer had lived, Fire still would have joined the Dark Forest for injuring her at all.

[s0ftparade]

I know you’ll never see this now because your blog is gone

I know I tell you all the time

But god does it feel good to have found you

I’ve searched my entire life and there you were this whole time

A piece of me has returned home and that is you. Every lifetime we’ve spent together, our reunion in this one brings me peace and utter joy like I’ve never felt before. I never knew it could be this sweet. I knew you were out there and I wanted you to come home so so bad. I missed you before I met you. And when I saw you for the first time you had my attention immediately. When we had our first deep conversation in the hallway something inside of me flickered. I didn’t know what it was at the time but it’s funny to look back and laugh. An inner homecoming. Now I know everything I prayed for was being gifted to me wrapped in a bow, I just had to be patient. As soon as I let go of the care and concern and desire and just let it come in, we gave into the magnetism pulling us together. Finally I didn’t have to resist it any longer. I love you. I always loved you. I will always love you.

I hope I have you forever and more.

You give me strength and put me on cloud nine. It feels so good to worship and be worshipped in return. Everything I poured into everyone before you has been given to me through you tenfold. No wishing you were someone else, no wishing you could be another way, you’re perfect as you are. Made for me maybe, or just separated from me after so many past lives together. I could cry just thinking of it. I’ve never met anyone like you. You bring out a softer but stronger side to me, because you nurture every angle. I’ve never felt so satisfied and so seen. The way you let me choose you, no forcing just nurture and patience.

You make me realize all of my dreams are just future realities. You make me crazy, you make me wild. I’ve never wanted to have someone’s babies so badly. I’ve never been able to actually visualize what my future looked like until I saw you.