#and by the time she opens up he’s snatched away by her chosen father

[witchofinterest]

thinking abt connie’s familial relationships and it’s making me ill

[thelov3lybookworm]

Plants Of Thorn Bear The Prettiest Of Flowers

Summary: Another day, another kill.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: Alright, so before you read this, be warned. The reader in this is bit dark and will do anything to win her father's approval.

FYI, she is the middle child, the second born after Rhysand and before Celeste, the one who later on dies along with their mom

anyways, enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Y/n flipped the dagger again, for what felt like the thousandth time as she walked through the winding halls of the Moonstone palace, humming a tune her father had hummed to her when she was a child to calm her down.

Her lips lifted at the edges, knowing she was the only one who got to see that side of their father.

It was not that she was glad that her father could not be bothered about her siblings, it was just that he was the only one who ever really gave Y/n any ounce of kindness other than her mother, and Y/n had snatched whatever scraps she could get and then moulded herself to someone who would not have to rely on scraps for affection.

"She can not find out about this, you know that right? She would skin us both alive." Y/n paused, her head turning the slightest towards where the voice was coming from.

Celeste. The youngest of the three children the High Lord had sired.

Y/n stood still, straining her ears to listen to what she was saying. Or more like who she was saying it to.

Y/n was almost sure Celeste was talking about her.

"I know."

The voice that reached Y/n's ears next was one she knew all too well, one she had come to like. Not love, not yet. That would be taking things too far too soon.

Alan.

"You need to leave."

"I know..."

Y/n glanced towards where the voice was coming from, cocking her head. It was a room where the servants kept supplies.

Honestly, they could have chosen a better place to partake in whatever act they had. Y/n rolled her eyes internally.

She turned away, and before they could realise that the event they had been fearful about had already come to pass, walked towards the nearest exit, erasing all traces of her presence as she went.

She opened her mind after she had hidden herself away in shadows, and it did not take long to have her father's attention on her.

Yes?

There is an intruder in the palace.

She knew she had her father's full attention on her then.

Interesting. Bring it to me.

On it.

•○🌑○•

It did not take long for Y/n to catch this intruder, and it took even less time for her to winnow him to her father's office, where her siblings were already waiting with him in tow, a bag over his head.

When she saw her siblings in his office, Y/n figured her father had drawn the conclusion that someone had let him in.

Y/n strutted in through doors, shoving the male she had in her arms to the floor.

"There comes my daughter." The High Lord drawled.

Y/n inclined her head, folding her arms behind her.

"Why have you summoned us here, father?"

Y/n glanced at her brother without moving her head, watching his face as it contorted with confusion.

But at his side, Celeste stared and stared at the male at Y/n's feet, the colour draining from her face.

"I'm sure Celeste knows why you have been summoned, don't you, Celeste?" Their father tuned his shrewd eyes to his youngest, whose eyes flew wide, shaking her head.

"I don't know what you are-"

"Don't play the fool with me girl. If you did not know who this was, you would not look like you had seen a ghost."

Rhysand's eyes flitted between his baby sister and father, wanting to know what the hell was going on.

"Y/n found an intruder walking freely around the palace." Their father spoke, drawing everyone's attention. "And he could not have come up here by himself, for he has no wings. Only four people have wings inside these walls, and neither Y/n nor your mother would have done this. That leaves you two to bring him up here, let him enter the wards. So," He stood, rounding the magnificent mahogany desk to lean against it, his hands in his pocket. "Who is it?"

Rhys glanced to Celeste, his eyes holding something akin to rage.

He sighed before he opened his mouth. "I brought him here. He is a friend-"

"Do you take me for a fool, boy? You have no friends save for the illyrian scum."

Rhys swallowed, and Y/n could see his hands clenching from where he had them behind his back. "Father-"

"If you continue lying, Celeste will receive the punishment for you."

Rhysand's mouth shut with an audible click.

"Ask her if she brought him up here. Do not waste my time, I have much work to do."

Rhysand only glanced at Celeste, who, with a scathing glare at Y/n, dipped her chin in a small nod.

"Hmm. Y/n?"

Y/n moved, walking to the shelf behind the desk and pulling out a whip, only one of multiple, and walked back to her father, holding it out to him.

He picked it up, studying it for a few moments before he hummed. "This will do. Celeste, now I want you to whip this young man here. Would fifty lashes be enough?"

No one moved, except for Alan, who began struggling. Y/n felt the heat of two glares on her face.

"Answer me!" The high lord's facade slipped for a moment, and he screamed, his voice high and scary, making his oldest and youngest flinch. Y/n stood still as a statue at his side, staring at a wall opposite.

"Father please." Celeste's voice wobbled, and Y/n ignored the part of her that rebelled at the fear that filled her voice.

Calm settled once again in her father's voice when he spoke next.

"Fine. If you don't want him to live, I will let Y/n slit his throat. That way you will have his head to keep in your room, and you won't sneak any more boys in."

Y/n knew it was no suggestion. That had been his plan all along, to kill the male.

Alan had stilled once again, the smell of fear that emanated from him very nearly overwhelming Y/n.

Y/n bowed her head to her father, and unsheathed the biggest dagger she owned, stalking forward.

Her previous lover looked up at her in fear when she tugged off the bag, silver lining his eyes as she grabbed him by the hair.

"Please. Don't do this." He whispered.

Y/n slipped into his mind, staring deep into his eyes as she raised the dagger to his throat, ignoring the scream emitting from her sister. She could not stop until her father told her to, and she would rather not disappoint him.

"This is what you get for betraying me, my trust, and wasting my time."

"Please don't do this Y/n. You know I love you. She tricked me-"

But before he could let another word slip, his throat was slit, and he drew in a wet sounding gasp, blood bubbling from the deep cut.

He was dead before his head was separated from his body. Y/n, still clutching his head, turned to look at her father as his body fell forward, landing with a sickening thud, blood splattering everywhere.

She raised her hand slightly, and he nodded to where her sister kneeled, her eyes fixed on the body on the ground. Swallowing the guilt that rose, Y/n let the head drop and roll to her sister's feet.

Rhysand, who clutched at Celeste's arms to keep her from running to Alan's body, growled. His eyes flashed to Y/n, filled with hatred, and Y/n turned away. Meeting her father's eyes, who smiled wide at her, and nodded his head to her legs.

"Get some servants to clean the filth up, then go and eat something."

Y/n bowed, then walked out the door, leaving all the events of the evening behind and hoping she could forget it all after she added a mark for him to her skin as a testament to her kills.

•○🌑○•

Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Tagged by: @ivymarquis

Tagging: @chadillacboseman @chazz-anova @henbased @neonneurons @skoll-sun-eater @shellibisshe @eclecticwildflowers @kyber-infinitygems @nightbloodbix @roofgeese @voidika @josephseedismyfather @josephslittledeputy @inafieldofdaisies @clicheantagonist @neverthesameneveranother @adelaidedrubman @strafethesesinners @trench-rot @statichvm @poetikat @marivenah @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @v0idbuggy @direwombat @florbelles @shallow-gravy @cassietrn @solstheimart @strangefable @stacispratt @madparadoxum @jillvalentinesday @confidentandgood @ladyofedens-blog @wrathfulrook

writing tag list to be added/removed

art tag list to be added/removed

wip art - capt. price (c*d)

well i said it was going to happen...and it has...(I just love his silly little smirk)

apparently army man is now my type of blorbo (shaking my fist at Jacob Seed for being a gateway drug lol) also I refuse to tell anyone how much time I spent on that chest hair...

And for those of you not in my newest brainrot fandom, a snippet from Kakia (the Herald/Role Swap AU):

Kit circles the bar, fingers drifting over chrome plated metal and glossy hardwood as she reaches the assorted crystal carafes filled with liquor. Snatching one up in her hands, she pulls out the stopper, and her pale blue eyes flick up to meet her guest’s stare. “I hear you used to be a lawyer in Atlanta, John.” She dips a finger past the rim of an empty glass and drags it towards herself, crystal ringing out like a bell, before pouring the amber liquid. Nonchalantly adding, “Before you were disbarred of course.”

He grasps at the material of his trousers with sweaty palms, his tongue dipping against his lip. “Yes.”

“What happened?” She plunges the stopper back into the carafe and spins the liquor around her glass, a wicked grin spreading across her lips. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I made some mistakes, fell prey to my vices.”

Kit nods and takes a sip from her drink, swiping her thumb across her lower lip to wipe away any drops of the scotch that tried to escape her before resting her chin on her hand. “Care for a drink, John?”

His bright eyes stare at the glass in her hand as he swallows heavily. “I don’t drink.”

“Don’t or can’t?” He looks at her unsure of how to answer and she quickly takes that as her invitation in, using his moment of weakness as a weapon against him. “You know, I lived my life for a long time entirely imposed upon. Told what I was supposed to do, had my whole life chosen for me because of my father. He raised me to believe that I had to fight and die for my country because that’s all I was really worth to him. He had me convinced that that was how I would win his love and approval. How I'd become his pride and joy. But that wasn’t true. I thought I'd seen the world because I’d traveled it, but I was still blind. I missed out on so many of life’s experiences all to make someone else happy.” She takes another sip of her drink, indulging in the warm burn it left down the back of her throat. “But I don’t live like that anymore. Now I do what I want, when I want. Taking in all of what life has to offer. It’s highs, it’s lows. All of its sensations.” 

John swallows heavily, the sound of him gulping his own saliva is music to her ears knowing her claws are settling in nice and deep into the meat of him. 

“Now John, will you take that drink?” A red brow lifts as she offers the temptation once more. 

“Yes. Scotch. Please.”

Her smile widens to reveal jaws filled with sparkling white teeth. “Good boy.”

Pouring him a drink, she carries it over and takes a seat on the couch beside him.  She passes him the glass and then pulls open a drawer on the table beside her grabbing an ornate box inside it. Lifting the lid, she pulls out a pre-rolled joint. 

Long fingers caress the cool glass in his hand, stroking it as he watches her lick her lips and slip the joint in her mouth before flicking back the metal lid of her lighter. The flame dances as it’s held to the tip, making it glow orange as smoke trails up to the rafters. 

“My brother wouldn’t be very happy about that.”

Pale eyes glance sideways and linger on him, narrowing as she flicks the lid of the lighter closed. “It’s legal here. I have my own crop growing up at the conservatory. Pure and organic.” She passes the joint to John. “Don’t tell me you don’t smoke either?”

“I used to. But then that led to other things –”

The corner of her mouth lifts into a smirk. “You really fell for all that gateway drug bullshit?” Her gaze traces over him judgmentally. “Didn’t know when to stop, huh?”

John takes the joint from her but only holds it instead of partaking in it. “Eventually nothing feels as good anymore, and then you need more on top of that.”

Kit stretched her arms out along the back of the couch, leaning into the cushions as she tipped her head back blowing out smoke rings. “Nothing wrong with that. I've never seen the downside to excess, taking and taking until there’s nothing left to give.”

Ash falls onto the legs of his trousers and without a spare hand he’s forced to bring the joint to his mouth to brush it away.

“It’s second nature to you. Why change that?” She asks, turning to him and pulling the joint from his mouth.

Sputtering out smoke as he coughs, she laughs and it’s warm and friendly, but it doesn’t meet her eyes – there is something cold and empty within them.

“Because I was tail spinning out of control.”

“Out of control,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You just hadn’t found a place where you belong yet. But I think you’re going to enjoy it here, John.”

Squeezing his shoulder tight, he turns to look at her. Big, bright eyes sparkle in her direction. Looking at her like she was an angel bathed in the holy light of God. His vision swimming, body melting into the couch. 

“Really, why’s that?”

She curled up against him, pushing her fingers through his dark hair. “We have what you need,” she purred.

“What do I need?” he asked, staring at her lips as his eyes glazed over.

“Freedom.” Her mouth ghosted against his and she stared at him like he was supper. 

“Yes,” he managed to hiss before slumping forward, his forehead pressing into her shoulder.

[bumblesimagines]

do you want to hear what really happened?

you already missed your chance.

i've loved you since the day we met.

Mencia Blanco

do you want to hear what really happened?

you already missed your chance.

i've loved you since the day we met.

pronouns: they/them, gender neutral

You had hoped that after a couple minutes of being ignored, whoever had continuously rang your doorbell would've gotten the hint. You kept your face buried into the silky pillow, praying and hoping whichever asshole standing at your door left soon. But when another three minutes passed and the doorbell continued ringing throughout the house, you groaned and rolled out of bed, taking a glance at the clock on your nightstand that read 3:00 AM in bright neon green. 

"Are you serious?" You hissed quietly into the dark room, snatching your phone off the nightstand and turning it on. No new messages from any of your friends bold enough to try awakening you at such an ungodly hour. Unless one of their phones had died, you couldn't fathom who else would show up at your door with a persistent attitude. 

On second thought, you knew exactly who. And it just so happened her number had been blocked for nearly two months. You automatically took in a deep breath at just the mere thought of your trainwreck of an ex. Pretty little Mencia Blanco, daughter of the insufferable principal and sister to the equally insufferable twins. The start of a headache began licking at your temple and you groaned, pushing yourself forward and flickering the light on. 

Making your way through the hall and down the stairs, you found yourself relieved your parents had gone away on a trip. Otherwise, it'd be hell to explain why a strange girl they barely knew was at their doorstep like a stray begging to be let in. You could only imagine what your mother would say as you neared the front door and unlocked it, tossing it open and confirming your assumptions. 

Mencia stood before you with a duffle bag secured in her hand. Her dark makeup smudged around her eyes and her lips had been twisted into an exhausted pout. Tear streaks stained her cheeks and you could already hear the explanation she'd give you. Another fight with Benjamin or another spat with her siblings, likely both. Always the same repetitive tale that she never seemed to escape despite her numerous attempts. She stared at you, big brown eyes filled with longing and sadness, and took a small step forward. 

"Can we talk?"

"About?" It was too damn early for this.

"Us." She answered simply and softly, her brows lowering and light red-tinted lips rubbing together. You stared at her and debated turning her away or calling one of her siblings. But Mencia would only resume her assault on the doorbell and you doubted either one of the twins would even pick up your call. You exhaled through your nose and tilted your body to allow her inside. She smiled and headed in, resting her duffle bag beside the couch and taking a peek at the living room she'd only briefly seen once. 

"You couldn't have chosen a better time to run away?" You asked, closing the door and turning the clock. Mencia laughed lightly and rubbed at her cheek, trying to clean away the subtle black lines from the wet mascara. She hadn't changed in the slightest since the breakup. She still remained the chaotic hot mess who silently wished to be taken seriously. Then again, none of the Blanco family were put together. Benjamin appeared more like a boss than a father, even when he put on his best fatherly act. The poised Ari seemed one shot away from a mental breakdown and often acted like a mother rather than a sister. And the attention-seeking Patrick only knew how to self-destruct and bring everyone down with him. They'd been entertaining to watch from a distance until you got sucked into their drama.

"I would've gone to a hotel but..." She trailed off and toyed with one of her rings, strands of chestnut brown hair sweeping over her face as she peered down at her boots. "Benjamin locked me out of my cards."

"Rebeka lives up the street. Go stay with her, or did you fuck that up too?" The bitter words slipped out faster than you could process them. Mencia winced and sighed, her arms and shoulders slumping. She made no move to deny it and you took in another deep breath, trying to keep the tired annoyance from slipping out again. 

"I do want to talk about us... about what happened. I... I hurt you, I know that. But, I've loved you since the day we met. I fell in love when you stood up to Benjamin, I fell for you more when I saw how you treated your friends like they were family. I loved you when you agreed to a date and I still love you. I fucked up. I... I let what Patrick said about me that night get to me and- and I believed him when he said you'd leave me-"

"I doubt Patrick told you to cheat on me with Rebeka." You sighed. "You already missed your chance, Mencia. You had two months to grow some balls and talk to me at school but you chose to act as if I didn't exist. Rebeka herself apologized for what happened and yet, the actual chick that fucked up couldn't." 

"I was planning on it at the drive-in last week but you disappeared! I went to your car but you weren't there and Cayetana had no idea where you'd gone." Mencia's voice grew louder and she grunted softly, lifting her hands to her face and massaging her temples. You stared at her, unable to shove away the memory of what had occurred at the drive-in. It almost amused you, in fact. 

"Do you want to hear what really happened at the drive-in?" You couldn't help but ask, and she dropped her arms to her sides. She nodded limply, completely and uttering unaware of the words about to tumble right out of your mouth. "I got into an argument with Samuel and Isadora made an offer 'cause she was pissed at Phillipe. We hooked up in her limo and then again at her place. That's why you couldn't find me and that's why I'm not giving you a second chance, Mencia. Even if she's a bitch and believes Phillipe's innocent... I think I'm starting to like her."

[rmtndew]

The Beauty of Thorns

(A ‘Beauty and The Beast’ AU)

Part 1

Summary: Belle lives in a cursed village and those who live there are forbidden to leave. Every year a Drawing is held and a man is chosen to be a sacrifice for the Beast. It’s the only life Belle has ever known but as her friendship with August Walker begins to bloom, she realizes that the Beast can be cruel and that life is far from predictable. 

Pairings: August Walker X Belle

Warnings: Mentions of blood, curses, sacrifices. It’s not gory but very in line with darker fairytales. 

Word count: 4,200+

Part 2

A/N: This was inspired by a post @littlefreya​ shared several months back about the Beast and Gaston and a conversation ensuing from it. She encouraged me to try my hand at writing this AU, so thank you Freya!  Also, this had started out following the Disney version a lot closer but I couldn’t quite get it going, so I had to pivot and I hope y’all like how it turned out. It’s a little different than my beloved cartoon but it felt like it needed another path. 

I pulled at the collar of my dress, fiddling with it as it felt like it was constricting me, making it hard to breathe. Mother kept trying to get me to put my hands down and stop making a spectacle but I couldn’t help it. I understood why I had to wear that dress; it was plain and dark and somber. It was respectful, or at least as respectful as a piece of clothing can be, and what was taking place that evening was due all respect. It was time for our town’s annual Drawing. 

As the door opened at the back of the town hall, I folded my hands in my lap, willing my irritation away as I watched the town elders - including Father - emerge first. Following them were the five men whose names were in the Drawing that year. I knew them all but couldn’t allow myself to feel any type of sorrow at seeing them there. Not until the last one emerged and I saw that it was August Walker. 

He and I had never been particularly close. I feared he looked at me as some scrapy young girl who spent half her life with her nose in a book and the other half like a wildling up in trees or scuffling with the boys in the village. At least that’s what I was like when he returned from war. I’d grown since then into more of a woman than a savage child but I could never forget the day August had returned back to the town: 

One of the boys had snatched my book from me and destroyed it. In a fit of rage, I tackled him into the mud, clawing and biting at him. August saw the commotion and intervened, pulling me off the boy with ease. He gave the boys a thorough tongue lashing before taking me home. Mother and Father were unhappy that I’d gotten into yet another fight but August took my side. The next day he returned with a new copy of the book that the boys had ruined. He’d made a point to look after me since then.  

His name wasn’t supposed to be in the Drawing. It was Moses Young’s turn. But he’d become a father to a sweet girl three months earlier and lost his dear wife during the birth. It didn’t have to be announced but everyone could see why August had taken his place instead. My sister, Marybeth, gasped at the sight of him. I saw Mother take her hand, trying to calm her. Marybeth, like all of the other women in town, was in love with August in some small way. They all talked about how handsome he was, constantly fawning over him, but they never seemed to see beyond that. 

The men stood with Father and the other elders. They looked scared or worried. But not August. Maybe he was scared, I knew I would be if I was up there, but he didn’t let it show. The elders took their places at the front of the hall and Elder Green, our town’s leader, went over the town’s history and why we had the Drawing. 

During the founding, an elder turned away a beggar woman asking him for shelter. After his denial, a young woman came and asked the same request of him. Taken by her beauty, he invited her in. The next morning, the woman was gone, along with the elder’s only child - a son. The townspeople searched for the boy in the forest and found a house hidden in its depths. Inside was the beggar woman. 

She told the elder that since he had been cruel, she had taken something precious from him. When the elder tried to approach, demanding for her to return his son, a great beast appeared beside her. She told the elder that because of his actions, his son was to be sacrificed to the Beast. To save him, the elder could offer himself up as a sacrifice instead. He refused. The beggar woman was furious that he would forsake his own child. 

But a young man that was part of the search offered himself up in exchange for the boy. The beggar woman was touched by the young man’s willingness and took pity on him. She told him that for his bravery, he and the future generations of his family would be spared, while the others would be cursed. 

The beggar woman, revealing herself to be an enchantress, cast a spell over the forest. It came alive, sending vines and thorns to ensnare the men, dragging them from the house back into the forest. The thorns drew blood and when it soaked into the forest floor, the enchantress told them that their lineage would be cursed along with them. No one of their bloodline would be able to enter the forest nor leave the town. 

When the men were released from the thorns, they saw that the elder was gone and in his place was his son. The enchantress told them that to pay for their wickedness, they would have to give up a man each year as a sacrifice to the Beast. If one was not offered, the Beast would be sent into the town to take any man that belonged to the cursed bloodlines. 

But the men forgot their promise to the enchantress and the following year, they offered no sacrifice. That night, the Beast ran wild through the town, taking five of the elders as payment for the broken treaty. From that day forward, the town repented and created the Drawing. Five men - representing the five elders that had been taken - were to be presented and one name was to be drawn. The chosen one would be offered up to the Beast as a sacrifice. 

When Elder Green finished presenting the town’s history, the Drawing began. The names of the men had all been put into a box. Elder Green came forward and the entire room fell silent as he reached his hand into the box. I could hear Marybeth uttering prayers and knew she was hoping that August wouldn’t be chosen. 

I held my breath as Elder Green pulled a paper from the box and unfolded it. His eyes studied the name for a moment before he announced, “George Burns, you have been chosen.” 

The wailing that came from George’s mother sent shivers down my spine. I couldn’t fathom that kind of anguish. I watched Father come forward, bringing the white cloth he was holding to George. Father unfolded it, revealing a single red rose, and held it out, presenting it to him. I could see George’s hesitation. He didn’t want to accept his fate and I didn’t blame him one whit. He visibly began to shake and turn pale. But finally, he stretched out his hand and pricked his finger on a thorn, drawing blood. Once the blood was drawn, the sacrifice was set. There was no going back.

The next day, Mother called me down to the kitchen. 

“Belle, I need you to deliver this,” she said, handing me a basket. It held bread and cheese, a cake and a bottle of wine. I knew it was for one of the men who had participated in the Drawing the evening before and hadn’t been chosen. Though a small gift, the Elders tried to show their gratitude to the men who had been a part of it. 

“Who am I delivering it to?” I asked.

“August Walker.”

I did as Mother asked and took the basket down to August’s house. When I arrived, I raised my hand to knock at the door but before I could, he pulled it open. I was startled and took a step back. August was a big man, looming over me in the doorway. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Belle?” he asked. 

I held out the basket. “Father and Mother wanted to give this to you as a thank you for your participation last night.” 

He looked down at the basket but didn’t take it. Instead, he glanced back at me and gave me something bordering a smile. “Why don’t you come in and share it with me?” 

I shook my head. “I couldn’t…”

“Why not?” 

Truly, looking at him I couldn’t think of a reason why I couldn’t. Marybeth was in love with him but so was every other woman in the town. But I had no feelings towards August and I knew he had no romantic intentions towards me so what would it hurt to keep him company? Especially with someone who had volunteered to be in the Drawing as he had so bravely done. 

“Perhaps I could stay for a little bit,” I conceded. 

He smiled then and stepped back, inviting me into his home. He led me to his kitchen before taking the basket from me, then pulled out a chair for me to sit on. He took the cake and wine and placed them both on the table, putting the rest of the basket aside. I watched as he took the bottle and brought it to his mouth, ripping the cork free with his teeth. The bottle made a loud ‘whomp’ sound as he did. I couldn’t rightly say why such an action made my pulse race but it did, though I tried not to let it show. August took two glasses from his cabinet and poured the wine, offering me a glass first. 

“I’ve never had wine so early,” I said. “Mother makes us wait until dinner and even then, she’s not too keen on Marybeth and I indulging in it too often.” 

“If war taught me nothing else it’s that you should never wait to indulge in what you want. You don’t know when your last breath will be so putting your desires on hold may mean that you never get to experience them,” he said. “So if I want cake and wine during the day, I’ll have it.” 

I took my glass and ran my finger over the W that was etched into the stem of it. “May I ask you a question?” 

“You just have.” He gave me a slight smirk but nodded his head at me. “You may ask another.”

“Why…why did you go to war? You’re one of the few Uncursed in town, you could have left here and gone anywhere. But you chose to fight in a war and then return once it was over. Why?”

“I joined the war because I didn’t mind fighting and I wanted to see the world. But I stayed because I realized the best way to learn how people truly think is to see them get scared. Then it’s like skinning them of all their egos, pulling it away from their insides, and you’re left with the true guts of who they are,” he said, grabbing a knife. “I thought by leaving I was getting away from the Beast but it turns out that I was only trading one for a legion of them.” He looked at me. “War makes beasts of all men. Some more violent than others but beasts all the same. And so if I was going to live with beasts, I’d rather do it here. That’s why I returned.” 

“Did it make a beast of you?” I asked quietly. 

“What do you think? Do you see a beast when you look at me?” 

“No, sir.”

“Sir?” he asked with a smirk. 

“Um…no, Captain Walker.” 

He chuckled. “You don’t have to call me ‘captain’ Belle. Or ‘sir’. August is fine.” 

“The Bardot triplets call you Captain.” 

He took two plates from his cabinet and brought them to the table. “They also call you feral, do they not?” he asked. “So perhaps they’re not the best when it comes to titles.” 

“Or perhaps they’re more right than others,” I said. “You are a captain, correct?” 

“I was, yes. But I was barely a man when I gained that position and the things I did to earn it aren’t things you talk about to women.” He sat at the table next to me. “And you’re not feral, do you hear me? They’re just cruel.” 

“They are but that doesn’t mean that they’re wrong,” I said. “I’m not like them. I don’t know how to be soft. I want to be and I try but…Marybeth, she’s the soft one. She has such a tender heart and the talent for delicacy. If you’ve ever seen our needlework from our younger years beside one another you’d be able to tell plainly. She could - and still can - make the most amazingly beautiful works. Even her back stitches were neat. But me?” I shook my head. “It was as if a blind dog did it.” 

He laughed slightly. “It couldn’t have been that bad.” 

“It was. Mother eventually stopped encouraging me because she realized it wasn’t from a lack of trying, it was just that I didn’t have the same talent as Marybeth,” I said. “She and I…we’re like roses. We’ve grown in the same environment, we’ve been cared for in the exact same way, and yet she’s this beautiful, delicate, flower and I…I’m the thorns that grow on the stem beneath it.”

“Anyone can come and pluck a rose. But to handle thorns, someone has to be careful and gentle with how they approach them,” he said. “You deserve someone who will be gentle with you.”

I felt my cheeks warm. I hadn’t expected that response and wasn’t sure what to say to him. “I…I should go,” I said quietly as I stood. 

August reached out and grabbed my hand, stopping me. “Stay. You haven’t touched your wine yet.” 

“I think it might be too early for me to drink it.” 

“So have cake.” 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“Then stay with me.”

I could hear my own uneven breathing. “I’m not much company. You’ll bore of me easily, I assure you.”

“Impossible.” He pushed my chair towards me with his foot without ever letting go of my hand. “Sit. Please.” Though he added ‘please’ there was no request; it was an order. So I sat back down. His eyes felt like they were boring into me and my face flushed warmer. “What do you think of me, Belle?” 

“What do I think of you?” I repeated. He nodded. “I think you’re incredibly courageous. And smart. And I think you stand up for what you believe is right, even if others don’t agree with you.”

“You don’t think I’m handsome?” 

“Of course I do,” I admitted, my ears burning hot. “But you don’t have a say in that. You were born that way. I think what matters most are the things we choose to be. Don’t you?” 

“You’re the only woman in town who speaks directly to me without caring about how I look or that I’m Uncursed.”

“And you’re one of the only people in town who treats me like a lady. Everyone else sees my scraped knees and leaves in my hair and mocks me for having my nose in a book, but you don’t,” I said. “The day after you returned from war, when you gave me a new copy of the book those boys ruined, you told me that you understood why I read so much. That because I’m stuck here, I have to find a way to escape and books…they gave me that. It’s harder to escape in them now that I’m older but it’s the only way I’ll ever experience something new. Maybe it just causes myself heartache to dwell on those things but I want so much more than the life I have and there’s nothing I can do about it. Everyone here should understand, they’re just as trapped as I am, but they don’t. You have left this town and have seen things I’m sure I could never imagine and yet you’re the only one who understands me.” 

“I may be an Uncursed but I know what it’s like to long for something you can’t have,” he said. 

Several hours had passed when there was a knock on August’s door. He answered it and I was surprised to see Marybeth. Mother was worried that I hadn’t returned and had sent her after me to make sure I was okay. August had been telling me about the places he’d been and seen and I wanted to hear more. But he was a gentleman and didn’t want any rumors starting, so he offered to walk Marybeth and me home, quietly telling me that I was free to come back anytime I wanted to hear more. 

Once we got home, he thanked me for the basket I’d delivered earlier and bid me goodbye, but Marybeth wouldn’t let him leave. She said she wanted some fresh air and asked if he’d join her for a walk. He agreed and asked if I wanted to come along. Marybeth shot me a look that would’ve killed me if possible and I politely declined. Instead, I went upstairs to my bedroom and wrote down everything I could remember from August’s stories of the outside world into my diary. I’d lived surrounded by the forest my entire life but I’d never been able to venture into it, so hearing about trees that were over two hundred feet tall and wider than a house seemed impossible. Or mountains that dotted the skyline. Or the ocean. August had made me close my eyes when he talked about the ocean, telling me how everything looked, and felt, and sounded. I ached to be there but I knew it would never be. 

I was at my desk still writing when Marybeth returned. As she entered our shared room, I looked at her with the intent to tease her about her walk with August but before I could open my mouth, she burst into tears. 

“What happened?” I asked. 

“He doesn’t love me!” she wailed. 

“What?” 

She went and flung herself onto her bed beside me. “He doesn’t love me!” 

“How do you know that?” 

“Because…because he told me!” 

“Why would he tell you that without prompt?” 

“He - he didn’t.” She hiccupped. “We were walking and I - I couldn’t stop myself. I had to tell him how I cared for him and that I was madly in love and that I knew I would never love another the way I did him and he…he told me…” 

She was sobbing but my curiosity was getting the best of me. “He told you what?” 

“That he loves someone else!” she squalled. 

“Who?”

“I don’t know. All he said was that she didn’t want to court him.”

I sighed. There wasn’t a single woman in our entire village - save for myself - that didn’t want to court August Walker. It was clear to me that he didn’t share Marybeth’s feelings and attempted to spare her some humiliation of turning her down plainly by telling her that he had feelings for someone who didn’t return them. Though it wounded me to see my sister so upset, I could appreciate August’s forethought to at least attempt to curb her pain. Unfortunately it didn’t work. She cried herself to sleep that night and the next three nights.

Marybeth did her best to avoid August for the next week but it was near impossible to do so when an emergency town meeting was called the following Sunday. We took our seats as Father joined the other elders at the front of the hall. Marybeth was looking behind us when she tapped me. 

“August is coming. Switch places with me,” she whispered urgently. 

“What?” I asked. 

“I can’t bear to sit next to him. Please.” 

Mother wasn’t happy as Marybeth and I swapped places and she sat on the other side of Mother beside Mrs. DeWitt, whom she suddenly found the need to strike up a conversation with. I’d just settled down into my seat when August came and sat beside me. He glanced down at Marybeth before looking over at me. 

“She’s still angry?” he asked quietly. 

“She was never angry. She’s hurt,” I whispered back. 

“It wasn’t my intention to hurt her.” 

“I know.” I looked up at him. “Thank you for trying to spare her feelings.” 

His brow creased. “It didn’t seem to work.” 

“She’ll recover. The thing about Marybeth is that she loves deeply and fiercely. She can’t burn out. But her fire will light up with someone new.”

“She deserves someone whose love burns just as fiercely as hers.” 

“Yes, she does.” 

Once the hall was full, Elder Green stepped forward and the meeting began. “An incident has occurred in the forest,” he said. “I won’t call out any names as they have already been severely punished but last night a group of boys decided to test their bravery by venturing into the forest to see who could remain there the longest.”

Murmurs broke out amongst all of the members of the town. Elder Green held up his hands, a request for complete silence, but it took a moment for the crowd to quiet. “As we well know, the Beast of the forest has forbidden all from entering there unless they are to present a sacrifice to him and this incident was not done in reverence. He has required an additional sacrifice be brought to him. If we do not provide one, he will breach our borders and come into the village to take who he pleases.” 

“This isn’t fair!” Mr. Parker called out. “We all have to participate in the Drawing. I put my name in to make sure that my family is safe. But this was not our fault. Are my children to suffer if my name is drawn and I must go as a sacrifice simply because some foolish boys decided to play games with the Beast?”

The murmurs grew louder as more men agreed. Elder Green struggled to regain control of the floor. Finally, Father stood and held up his hand. “Silence!” he ordered. He waited as the room quietened down. “I understand your fears and concerns. We all do. I myself am a father and I understand the fear of leaving your children behind simply because your name is drawn. However, this is not a Drawing. No one is required to put their name forth to be chosen.”

“Then who will be the sacrifice?” a man yelled. 

“We will require a volunteer,” Father answered. 

The hall broke into louder voices as people expressed their outrage. 

“Who would volunteer for something like this?” I whispered to August. “It’s sure death.” 

“Sure death to one to protect an entire town.”

“Including the woman you love?”

He looked at me. “Yes. Including her.” He looked back to Father and after a moment stood. “I’ll go,” he announced loudly. 

“No!” Marybeth shouted. “Father, no, he doesn’t mean it.” 

He looked at Marybeth. “I do mean it.” 

“August Walker, are you fully aware of what you’re volunteering for?” Father asked. 

August looked at me and I shook my head. “Why must you be so stupidly brave?” I hissed. 

“Love makes people brave,” he said to me before stepping out into the aisle. “Yes, I understand what I am volunteering for.” 

“Then please proclaim it.” 

He took a breath and stood straight, his hands folded behind his back. I saw then the man who had once been a Captain. “The Beast has required a sacrifice to make amends for the disrespect that was shown by the boys who breached our town’s borders as a game. I am volunteering to be the sacrifice so that our town may live in peace and safety until the next Drawing.” 

Marybeth began sobbing and Mother pulled her close. I could see the sound affecting August but he stayed focused straight ahead. I wanted to stop him but what could I do? If it wasn’t him, it would be another. 

“So be it,” Father said, sadness bleeding into his voice. “Captain August Walker, you left this town and fought bravely and valiantly as a soldier and led your men as a captain. When the war ended, you chose to return to this town and provided safety and security for those of us who cannot leave these walls. Though you leave behind no wife or children, your legacy will be your unwavering bravery and your willingness to give up your own life to save the lives of others. Your sacrifice will not be in vain. It will be remembered. It will be taught to future generations. You will live on so long as we do.” 

“Come forward,” Elder Green said. 

August’s eyes flicked over to me for a second, then he looked straight ahead once more and began walking towards the front of the hall. Once he reached the Elders, they all stood and came forward, meeting him. Elder Green held up the white cloth and unfolded it, revealing a single red rose. He held it out and presented it to August. August picked the rose up by the stem and wrapped his hand around it, squeezing it tightly. When he released it, he opened his hand and held up his palm for everyone to see. Bright red blood was smudged across it. Marybeth’s cries became loud sobs then. There was no turning back. Blood was spilt. August was the sacrifice. 

[rose-tinted-vision]

Tales from Tianji Manor

Relationship: Fang Duobing/Li Lianhua/Di Feisheng

part 8/read it on ao3/next

“What do you think of Di Feisheng?” her husband asks her that night.

“A-Fei is a good kid,” she replies firmly, giving her husband a look. He may be a little prejudiced, but she trusted that Fang Zeshi was a good judge of character, and only wanted the best for their son, “He treats Xiaobao and Xiaohua well, and he is just trying his best to live, like the rest of us.”

Fang Zeshi frowns, considering her reply. 

She takes his hand in hers, gently urging him to look at her. She had chosen him because he had been sincere in wooing her back then, had treated everyone around him with the due respect that they deserved, regardless of their social rank. She trusts that he would extend the same treatment to Xiaobao’s chosen people too.

“Just watch, and you will see what I mean,” she says.

—

Her husband stays for the week, the Emperor having given him the week to spend with his family.

And so they watch.

They watch how A-Fei silently carries a mountain of blankets from Xiaobao’s room across the courtyard to where the Lotus Tower is parked, gently tucking them around Xiaobao and Xiaohua who have fallen asleep in their home.

They watch as A-Fei chops up the chives that Xiaobao hands to him, expertly handling the knife with the air of someone who has been handed the same task multiple times, setting them back next to Xiaobao, who shoos Xiaohua away from the kitchen with a wooden ladle. 

They watch as A-Fei tags along with both of his boyfriends to the market, trailing behind them as they return with his arms full of bags of all sizes, occasionally stealing a bite from Xiaobao’s scallion pancake.

Fang Zeshi smiles at the sight of his son and his boyfriends, happy and content with each other and at peace, despite himself.

—

“He treats Xiaobao well,” her husband admits, as they retire to bed, “but does he trest you and Xiaofeng well too?”

She knows that he bears no ill will towards A-Fei, not after he had gained her husband's recognition, that he was simply looking out for her, looking out for the peace of the family that they had built, and so she nods patiently.

“He remembers my favourite dishes, what I am allergic to, and respects the house rules.”

It is the truth, as Fang Zeshi would witness the following day.

A-Fei shows up for breakfast with a sleepy Xiaohua and Xiaobao trailing behind, settling in his usual seat at Xiaohua’s left side. He snatches up the soy sauce before Xiaobao dumps too much into his bowl in his half-awake state, adding just the right amount for him instead, and offers to pour her tea.

He Xiaohui accepts the cup of tea with a smile, which he awkwardly bows his head at. 

His posture is more tense than usual, she notes- likely due to the presence of her husband, someone who A-Fei did not know how to act around, someone who he had only interacted with a couple of times.

Her husband, for his part, was watching A-Fei with a contemplative expression. Not open distrust, like the last time they ate together, but not quite acceptance yet. 

Xiaobao, still sleepy as he was, had noticed A-Fei's discomfort, and drew his father's attention away from him with the topic of the Emperor’s latest policies following Shan Gudao’s attempted coup.

—

“Our Xiaobao really loves them,” is Fang Zeshi’s conclusion that night, expression exasperated yet fond, as they watch Xiaobao spar with A-Fei. Their nightly spars draw quite the audience, a dance so graceful that it has the servants halting in their duties to watch.

“He does,” He Xiaohui replies. Her Xiaobao had never been one to hide his feelings well- if he liked someone, it was plain for all to see. If he hated someone, anyone within a five meter radius could tell.

Like mother like son, her husband had once remarked. 

“Li Xiangyi…really does not plan on returning to the jianghu?” 

He Xiaohui straightens at the question, a familiar protectiveness rearing its head as she sizes up her husband, “is that Minister Fang asking, or Fang Zeshi asking?”

Fang Zeshi, to his credit, does not flinch under her glare.

“I think you know the answer yourself,” He Xiaohui sighs, casting her gaze to the man sitting with Zhan Yunfei, both men equally riveted by the duel before them. 

“Li Lianhua,” she stresses, which Fang Zeshi looks properly chastised by, “really just wants a quiet life with his partners. You can tell the Emperor that.”

“Okay,” her husband sighs, “okay.”

Not quite acceptance, but not outright disapproval either.

Half the battle won, like she had once told Xiaobao

[overkill-max]

The Rescue

Just a little drabble of what I think could happen in Episode 6 of Willow. It is very Kit centric. And there are spoilers from the trailer.

—————— 

Kit had been so close to getting what she wanted. Just as she could feel Jade’s breath on her lips, she was snatched away from her.

She was aching with longing for what could have been. Angry at herself for waiting so long to tell Jade the truth. Now that it seemed she would die in a cage next to a lamenting Willow. He told her he was a fake. Worse, Elora heard this confession and had run away from him.

Elora could be in as much danger than them and all she could think about was herself. She looked up and realized she was just as selfish as ever.

She wonders if she would have even told Jade anything before the truth plums and the various cups of drink she had in her. She had meant to apologize about what she suspected. She hadn’t suspected this, exactly. But she felt that Jade was more special than any of them realized… because she was special. Her heart was brave and true. Her smile was made of sunshine. Her hair burned like wildfire across her heart. She… she was special… but Kit hadn’t known how to say all that.

Even with the truth plums, she had managed to say the wrong thing.

After that, she was disappointed in herself because her confession. The way she had told Jade how she felt… to place that upon Jade just as she had found her place in the woods…it was just another selfish impulse. Even when it was the truth…

//

“Come on. Your wits. My spriteliness. We’re gonna be out of here in no time.”

A man across from them, in his own cage, laughs. Knowing that they would all die here.

//

Kit tired to stay positive. But she knew she wasn’t as strong as Jade. She wasn’t as smart as Graydon. As wily as Boorman. As magical as Willow. She wasn’t even as charming and fun as her brother. She was nothing but a disappointment to her mother who looked at her and only saw the ghost of her father in her features.

Kit… Kit had been the wrong twin to rule their kingdom. Too impulsive and not serious enough to be seen as a real contender for the throne. Even when her mother treated her brother as a womanizer and a joke, he was the one next in line to rule. She was a consolation prize for the surviving prince of Galladoorn. In fact, it seemed as if they were both placeholders for who their parents really missed. Reminders of what their parent’s couldn’t let go of.

//

Elora… even Elora, who was kind and selfless before they found out she was the chosen one… even she was a better person than Kit.

They all knew it… and now she did too.

  //

//

  The explosion above them rattled all the cages so much that theirs went tumbling into the abyss below.

Their cage hit several others, which helped slow down their descent, but it didn’t stop it from quickly sinking to the bottom of an endless well.

Kit used all her strength to kick against the door. It had been bent out of shape in the fall and if she could just keep a breath long enough, she might just be able to force it open.

She swam back up and tried again. Looking up from where she was, she saw how the cage fell below the water line and panic rose up in her chest.

She exhaled and felt lightheaded. She kicked and kicked until her feet went forward without meeting resistance. Her vision blackened and she grabbed onto Willow’s still body before swimming them both to the surface. She coughed. Spitting up water and taking in more than she let out in her desperate attempt to breathe.

Willow’s lips turned blue. Kit tried to hold their heads above water while trying to grip onto the slippery sides that gave purchase to nothing but green, slicked walls.

Kit swallowed more water and coughed as it went above her nostrils. She was unable to cough it all out and her lungs burned.

Not as much as the words she couldn’t stop herself from hearing echo back at her.

“I feel sorry for her. For loving someone who can’t love her back.”

Her legs were tired. Her mind was racing. But she refused to give up. Swimming in what felt like a giant circle in the dark.

Desperate for oxygen. Frantic for Jade to know more than just the truth. Jade had to know that she was loved. Truth plums or not. The words were her own. The feelings belonged to her before she even knew what they meant… Kit had loved Jade for so long and so fully that Elora had seen through her. She knew that Kit had wanted to kiss Jade until her last breath. That she knew how Jade felt but had been too much of a coward to do anything about it because before, it felt as if they had all the time in the world to stay at each other’s sides.

Now… she would do anything to have a little bit of magic. To go back and tell Jade before she tried to run away that she loved her. That she was proud of her. That she would be a great knight. That she would refuse to marry for the good of the kingdom, just like her mother had done. That she would marry for love and all she ever wanted was to go on an adventure with Jade at her side.

One where they would just spend the rest of their days next to each other. Even if all they did was chop wood and fetch pails of water on the edge of the woods.

Jade felt her heart beat out of control. Thinking about Jade always left her feeling stupid and tongue tied.

Jade.

Jade.

The other woman filled her thoughts so fully that when her hand touched a void, her brain didn’t register it until her body swam forward on its own. Her knees hit the edges of something sharp. Jade kept reaching out. Tentatively touching whatever was in front of her until she realized it was a staircase.

With waterlogged clothes and aching limbs, she climbed up until she could put Willow on the steps and try to breathe life back into his body.

He coughed up water and bile onto the slippery steps and Kit started shaking with relief. She pushed her wet hair back and leaned against the wall.

“Well, that’s one way to escape prison.” She says. Voice small.

Kit’s usual bravado is gone. She knows she is unworthy of leading these heroes anywhere. Yet… she had no other place to go but forward. To follow them, now that she understood that everyone else on this trip was special but her.

They all mattered so much more to the world than she did.

All she had wanted was a way out of her marriage. An adventure. To go beyond what she knew. To leave before Jade left her.

Instead, she needed to rescue her brother and keep the world from being swallowed into darkness while also coming to grips with the fact that this was her legacy.

Her family had been corrupted before. And she knew that given the opportunity, they might fall again… not her brother. He had always been so bright. He was a shining light to the darkness of who she was. Kit could feel those dark edges cutting into the surface whenever she said a mean word to him. She sounded like her mother… and in a way… she was a mirror image to those dark and twisted things that had made her Bavmorda’s granddaughter.

The last words she had said to her brother had been cutting and she was sorry for that. For not being honey sweet, like Elora. For not being selfless, like Jade. For choosing to be anything but what he had needed when they were both hurt.

She was still lamenting this when Willow coughed, stood up on shaking legs and began ascending the steps.

Kit could only follow.

It was dark.

They were cold.

But they had lived to see another day.

//

They reached the top. Where they had been imprisoned and even though Willow urged her forward. Kit struggled with the pulleys and levers to free the man who was next to them.

“We don’t have time.” Willow told her and even though she agreed with him. Even when her arms burned, and she was dizzy… Kit couldn’t leave this man to die… regardless of what he had done… he was still a person, and he should go free.

//

The three of them grabbed their weapons, some torches, and kept making their way out of the dungeon.

The stranger wanted freedom and vengeance. Willow wanted to salvage whatever relationship he could with Elora. And Kit just wanted to see Jade again. To make sure she was safe.

She didn’t care about whether the kiss happens or not without the truth plums pushing the truth out of them… She just cared that the other woman was safe.

——————

This was meant to be a little drabble and now it’s got a second chapter.

[karrenseely]

A Letter to my bio mother.

A few years ago my mother wrote me out of the blue, after having not spoken to me for 20 years. She ignored me when I finally managed to graduate college despite all she'd done to me, she (and the rest of the family) ignored me at my father's funeral, she ignored me when I graduated from medical school. That first year after she and dad disowned me I wrote to them about once a month. I never got a response. That Christmas I stopped by our house and dropped off Christmas presents for everyone (Mom, Dad, Sister). Mom wouldn't even look at me and retreated into the house. Dad basically told me to go away, I didn't belong there anymore. It hurt, a lot. Then a few weeks went by, and I got a box in the mail, I was excited because the return address was my old home, I thought maybe, they've finally accepted me and come to their senses. I opened the box and was immediately crushed, they had sent back all the gifts I'd worked so hard to find for them, unopened, still in there wrapping paper. So needless to say, I was very surprised to see she had messaged me on FB, and that old hope resurfaced once again. I opened the message and was crushed... once again. She had sent me a message to yell at me. This is the letter I would have liked to send back. Instead, I blocked her because it hurt so much, even now I second guess that decision because a part of me still wishes she could have loved the daughter she had.

The message I am responding to: "I just saw your go fund me page. Our hope in "cutting you off" was to leave enough time and space for you to grow up and really think about the huge step you were wanting to take. It didn't help that YOU told us it was our fault and then demanded that we pay all your medical expenses to have the surgery. You are as much to blame for the family separation as your Dad and I are. I will accept my part of that blame. I knew when we did it that we might never see you again but it was a risk both of us were willing to take because we were hoping you would not choose to take such a difficult path through life. It was a gamble and we lost, but so did you. You have a wonderful, intelligent, funny, sweet, smart family members you have never even met. Erin's kids, Paul and Kayla. Your loss, believe me. They are great great kids and that is not a comment just from their grandmother. We hear it all the time from other adults that get to know them. When you left I lost my only son, then I lost him again when you had the operation. Not having children you can not begin to comprehend the depth of that pain. Losing a parent doesn't even come close. God gave me a second chance to have a son in my stepson, Karl, and now that has been snatched away from me as well because he committed suicide in April. Do not underestimate the amount of pain and loss your family has gone through because of your choices. Your Dad, Mother, Grandma Seely, Grandpa Seely, and all your aunts and uncles grieved for you and the person we all knew and loved named [Deadname]. Fortunately, your Grandfathers never knew what you were doing as it would have destroyed both of them. Life changes ALWAYS leave huge ripples in the pond. I wish you well in your chosen life but don't place all the blame on the family YOU chose to leave behind."

Dear Mom,

I do not understand you. I am your daughter. I have always been your daughter. On some level I'm sure you've always known this. I'm sure as a toddler I said I was a girl. I remember doing lots of things that were not typical for a little boy, but certainly were for a little girl. So I'm sure you knew, though you denied it. You denied me.

I will always be grateful to you for letting me play dolls and barbie with my sister, for letting me get a doll instead of a transformer, for teaching me how to cross stitch, knit, and encouraging me to read. For teaching me how to do household chores and how to cook. For making sure I took my medicine and staying up with me at night when my asthma was bad, for sending me to camp Not-A-Wheeze, for not letting me die on those horrid nights when I couldn't breathe. For saving my ankle and my ability to walk. For going to bat for me when that teacher really didn't like me because I had such a hard time acting like a boy.

But this is also why you hurt me so deeply. Because I mistook you loving the son you thought you had, that you wanted, for loving me. I was hurting so much. By the time I came to you, I was desperate. I was already self harming, though you never knew. I had already gone through the process of accepting I was trans, not that I liked it, but it was the only way I knew of to find any relief from the torment of not being allowed to be me. I was dying. I was already fighting the shame I'd been taught. I'd already learned it was bad to be a girl, and that it was doubly bad to be girl that everyone insisted was a boy. I had desperately tried to hide it, I was terrified of being friends with girls, because I thought if I was, someone would learn my horrible shameful secret. I had been dealing with these feelings for years before I came out to you. And I knew, if I didn't get help, I wasn't going to survive. So I came to you. But you denied my feelings and called it a phase... except this phase had lasted for years, when I look back, it lasted as long as I could remember, though I didn't understand that at the time.

I was so lost and confused, my parents didn't believe me. I didn't know what to do, so I tried to last a little bit longer. I think I came out to you again. This time you denied I was your daughter again. Things were bad, really really bad. By that time, puberty had already started and was destroying what little comfort I could find in my body, worse, to my horror, my voice started to drop. I knew there was treatment to stop this from happening, and I so desperately needed it. But everytime I asked for help I was denied. Worse, anytime I couldn't hide the fact that I was your daughter you yelled at me, shamed me, made me believe I was freak, a pervert, a monster. I felt so helpless, so hopeless, and so very very alone. I broke. I know I stopped growing mentally at that point. I dissociated so much, that what memories I have are fragmented, and I got stuck at age 15/16 for years. I couldn't cope with the world anymore. Somewhere in there you sent me to a counselor. I didn't know you were hoping he would erase me. And he hurt me, he hurt me so much. I thank the gods and the universe that you didn't force me to continue seeing him, and instead sent me to the only female psychologist in that office... but it was in that office, it was impossible to fully trust her, I never was able to talk about how I was really feeling, because I never felt safe in that office.

I stopped feeling safe at home too, after I came out to you. My parents who were supposed to love, accept, and support me, instead turned on me. Demanded I explain why I existed, why I knew I was a girl. Adult's can't even explain this, and you demanded this of me, a child. And no matter what explanation I managed to draw up, it was never enough for you. Instead you twisted it, and used it to dismantle any self worth I had, any sense of safety I had with you. For some reason, looking back I have no idea why, I trusted you right up to the day you disowned me. I thought I deserved everything you did to me. I thought that if you didn't love me, then no one could. I never even tried talking to my only two real friends I had after you disowned, as I was convinced they would hate me too if I came out to them. Thankfully, I was wrong about that.

Sometime later, I began to learn that what you did to me was wrong, I began to understand it was abuse, but it didn't really sink in, until I was at a queer youth retreat and one of the sessions was about the power and control wheel. It was then that I really saw what you had done to me, that what you were doing to me was abuse. You gaslit me from the day I was born, and everytime I tried to tell you otherwise, you told me I was crazy, I was shameful, I was broken, I sick, I was wrong, I was sin incarnate. You did everything you could to try to control and erase me short of outright murder. Worse, you actually told me you wanted me dead. What kind of mother tells her daughter she wants her daughter dead?

At some point, my maternal grandmother got a hold of me. I think it was a letter via snail mail. I learned that she still wanted to have a relationship with me. She didn't understand, and she constantly misgendered me and dead-named me, but she at least talked to me and welcomed me into her home. Then a few years later after she moved into assisted living for awhile, she disappeared. There was no forwarding address, I had no way to contact her, you stole her away from me. By that time she didn't have the cognitive faculty to get a hold of me on her own. I never saw her again. You took away the only living relative that still wanted a relationship with me... Then years later, you dangled her contact information in front of me, like I had done something wrong by not talking to her all that time. And you told me she was dying. But by that time I had already grieved for her, I couldn't go through that heart break again, and she was so far into her dementia that she wouldn't remember me anyway... why reopen those old wounds. Today I understand that was my CPTSD (from you, my peers, and society's abuse) telling me to avoid anything that would hurt.

Then, seven years ago... gods has it been seven years? It still hurts so much. Seven years ago, you apparently found out about my project to try and create a halfway house for homeless LGBT+ kids. You decided to write me the last message I ever got from you. You blamed me for what you did. That somehow it was my fault that you disowned me. You know, that day that you cut me out of your life, out of our entire family, you showed me your love was conditional. I remember you telling me that you'd take me back if I only would continue to pretend to be a boy for you, but you would be monitoring me to make sure I wasn't letting the real me out. You shattered the love and trust I had in you.

Even if I figured out somehow that I was wrong and I was a boy, how could I go back to you? To parents who never really loved me enough to let me figure everything out, to parents whose love was so conditional. And yet you say you did it for me. That is a lie. You did it for yourselves in a last ditch effort to try and continue to control me to be your imaginary son. You didn't do this to help me understand "what a huge step [I} was wanting to take." I was already well aware, I had spent years figuring that shit out even before the first time I came to you looking for help. I knew what I was in for, I'd had flashes of it for years in the abuse I suffered from my peers when they saw the girl I was trying to hide. I knew it from all the research I had done, from the fellow trans people I knew online by that time.

I didn't choose to be disowned. You chose to not love me, accept me, or support me. You chose to disown me. I didn't have any say in the matter. And yes, how you chose to respond to my distress, my suffering IS your fault. Shaming me for being your daughter when you wanted your imaginary son. Shaming me for being a girl, for teaching me that I was something that needed to be hidden, something horrible, something icky, for forbidding me from talking to my sister about it, the only other person I had ever considered talking to about it after coming out to you, why? The only conclusion I could reach at that age is that I was so sick, so horrible, I would somehow corrupt her too. So I obeyed you and no, I never told her. She learned some of it on her own, but because I wasn't allowed to talk to her about it, she considered me a pervert. I never discussed any of it with her... not until after you disowned me.

So yes it is your fault. I WAS A CHILD! Worse, I was your child! Of Course I thought you would help me! It's why I came to you in the first place, it's why I kept coming to you. Because I WAS YOUR CHILD! I was your daughter and I was suffering so much. The only two paths I could see, that I could ever see was death or finally getting to be me, in a body that didn't constantly hurt me so much. But you denied me all of that. You denied me. You chose to do all of that to me. For what? For an imaginary son that never existed? You broke me. Of Course I blame you for that. I blame you for all the emotional abuse, neglect, and medical neglect you did to me. You were my mother, you were supposed to love ME, not some imaginary person you wanted instead, but ME. It is beyond twisted to me that you think I am as much to blame for what you chose to do to me. I didn't have a say in the matter. I had two options: live and be myself (while apparently losing everyone I ever loved) or dying. I chose to live. I refused to die for you. You haven't accepted any blame at all. You never did. All you do is try to gaslight me into believing that my being your daughter is somehow my fault. I didn't get the choice. You decided to create me. You decided to give birth to me. You decided to accept the responsibility of raising me. And then when I refused to be what you wanted... you threw me away like garbage. The only reason you never saw me again is because you never accepted that you had a daughter instead of a son. You never loved me. You wanted me dead and told me so yourself. With everything I went through growing up, it's a miracle I survived. To this day, I don't know how I did. Not with how much you tried to destroy me. You gambled with my life, hoping I would choose to continue to pretend to be your son, that I would continue to endure the constant torture of not being me. I would not have survived that. I barely survived at all.

Thank you for reminding me how much you took away from me. You took away my parents, my sister, my extended family. You took away everyone I ever loved. Thank you for reminding me that I have never been allowed to meet my niece and nephew, who by now are adults living their own lives. I pray to this day that neither of them were LGBT+, given the family they grew up in... it would have been a nightmare for them. I still grieve that they never tried to get in touch with me, that my sister never allowed me to be part of their lives.

You said when you disowned me you "lost [your] only son." But that's the whole problem. You never had a son. And you refuse to see this. To this day, you deny my existence, and blame me for it. And you assume I don't have kids. I have 3 wonderful kids who are becoming adults as we speak, or are approaching adulthood far to rapidly for my liking. They are amazing. And unlike my niece, nephew, and step brother, you chose to never have them be a part of your life. I am so proud of them. So please don't presume to know how I would understand the pain if I were to lose them. And please don't presume to think that the pain of losing a child is the same as losing everyone you ever loved, of knowing your parents hate you, of knowing your mom wanted you dead. The pain of knowing this when I was still just a child. These are two entirely different traumas. Please don't equate them. And please don't presume that it wasn't you who chose to throw your child away like she was garbage.

When father died, you ignored me, you tried to keep me away from his funeral. If my sister hadn't called me, I would never have known. And then at the funeral you never acknowledged my presence, no one from our family did. Instead you had your church lackeys try to push me out the door while I sat in that chair weeping, grieving. Did you know, that it was then that I finally understood you were not ever going to love me, accept me, or ever be a positive part of my life.

My grandfathers never knew the real me, because you made me believe telling them would kill them. I remember I tried reaching out to one of my uncles once, but it was such a hard conversation, and it only felt like they wanted to get off the phone. They never called me back or tried to reach out to me. No one except my maternal grandmother ever reached out to me in any positive way. So please don't tell me they all grieved for me, they chose to never talk to me again. They chose to cut me out of their lives as much as you did. I have very little sympathy for them, given when you disowned me I was homeless. I couch surfed throughout that summer. I really needed their help, since you refused to help me. Had it not been for some amazing friends letting me stay with them, and helping me get back on my feet, I would have ended up on the streets, like so many homeless LGBT+ kids. They chose to do that to me, just as you did. So no, I won't cry any tears for them choosing to throw me away too.

You mentioned that I had a step brother, whom I was never able to meet. You seemed to think you could replace me with him. I feel so bad for him, that you would put that burden on him. And then before I even knew I had a step-brother, he took his own life. I wonder every day if it was because he was LGBT+ and the abuse he suffered killed him. I wonder all the time if you abused him like you abused me. I wonder, what if he had been able to talk to me, get support from me, if he'd still be here. It hurts to know he died by suicide, because I wonder if it was for the same reason I almost died. I will always wonder...

You wrote this letter hoping to hurt me I think. You succeeded. You hurt me again. I had managed to live my life, find a family for myself. A family that actually loves me for me. Whom I can share all the joys and sorrows of life with. Whom got to see the joy I experienced when I finally got to be myself. When I didn't have to hide anymore. Who got to see me graduate college, who got to see me go to medical school, who saw me graduate and flourish. With three wonderful children that I helped to raise, and 6 others that are like nieces and nephews to me. But out of the blue, you wrote to me, to try to hurt me again. For what? Because I wanted to help other LGBT+ kids who went through what I went through? How petty is that? And yet despite everything I had accomplished, everyone I loved currently. You still managed to find me and hurt me again.

The day I got that message from you, was the day I was finally able to make a choice about our relationship. I'd never been able to before. It was the day blocked you from contacting me on FB ever again. Please don't try to contact me again. You made your choice, and it is apparent to me that you will never acknowledge what you did to me. How much you hurt me. How 27 years later I'm still in therapy over what you did to me. I've long since lost hope that you'll ever tell me you love ME and that you're sorry.

Sincerely, your daughter, always,

Karren

[lavender-long-stories]

Spoilers for Testing Success | Chapter 1 | Rated T

Fugaku Uchiha’s latest failed assistant brought him a stack of folders holding candidates for his replacement. Given the option of being fired or looking for his own replacement and transfer departments, he made the choice that would save his career. “These are the most qualified young candidates.” 

“Why young?” Fugaku flipped open the first folder.

“I only selected applicants with less than ten years of experience. Your eldest son suggested someone young enough to keep up with you,’ sir.” He didn’t look him in the eye as he muttered, good.

Fugaku dropped the first in the trash, then the next, then the next almost slipped out of his hand before he caught sight of the name. “Hyuga?”

“Oh! Sorry, she wasn’t qualified.” The assistant moved to snatch the folder, but Fugaku pulled it out of his reach. The assistant retracted, dipping his head. “She has a good GPA, but her school is unimpressive, and she’s only two years out of university, all temp work. She comes from a bland background, no family connections. I considered including her because she has the highest university scores out of the lot but nothing else impressive. I meant to take her out.” 

Fugaku barely heard him. He was transported to the past, just looking at her face. A woman smiled in his memory with those eyes and the roundness of her cheeks, but another memory’s cheekbones. His eyebrows furrowed at sour memories. “Bring her in.” He tossed the folder. 

His assistant scooped up the other folders. “Are you sure, sir?” Fugaku shifted his glare from up to him, and the man simply bowed and left. Fugaku knitted his fingers together. If this girl was who he thought she was. He was going to make her life a living hell.

--**--

Hinata straightened her blazer. She knew she didn’t have a chance of being selected to interview when she applied, but she applied anyway to bring up her hopes of having something better than temp jobs for the rest of her life. So when she was called, she was mortified to find she applied for the wrong position. Instead of being a manager’s assistant, Hinata applied to be the executive assistant to the company’s director.

Hinata wanted to decline and admit that it was a mistake, but something in the back of her mind told her she should at least try. If only to experience an interview in one of the hardest markets. If she was rejected at the highest level, at least she tried, right? You could only go up from that. 

Knowing the outcome didn’t take away all the nerves. Hinata needed to learn the process and find herself a good job. Hanabi shouldn’t worry about money for university, Hinata had to pay off her own college, and her father would need care eventually. 

Hinata needed a good job. Everything she had worked hard for was in service of that.

“Hyuga Hinata?” Hinata stood up straight, following the man. He took her into a conference room, which was already occupied by a man in an office chair turned away from them. 

The interview was grilling. Challenging questions, scenarios Hinata had never heard of needing to be solved. She answered to the best of her ability, asking questions only that she thought were relevant. He grilled her on schooling, why she had picked a cheap school, and why she had no extracurriculars, which were the ones she found the hardest to answer, even if the answer was simple. She was working two part-time jobs. She hadn’t had the time.

That was why Hinata didn’t understand being selected. People who got jobs high in a company’s infrastructure young were from wealthy families. People with connections. Why was she chosen when she so clearly came from a family with no connections?

“Why have you come like this today?” Her interviewer glanced down at her clothes.

Hinata looked down, feeling very self-conscious. She wore her best conservative pencil dress and a blazer. They weren’t expensive and a little too big, but surely she didn’t look that bad? “My clothes shouldn’t be the reason to hire me.”

He shook his head. “You would be representing the company poorly in that.” Hinata tried to keep a straight face. She felt thoroughly embarrassed, and she wasn’t even sure why. “I think we are done. You are excused.” 

Hinata stood, bowed politely, glancing at the back of the chair, still yet to turn around or say a word. It was rude, and she had already been insulted enough. Hinata bowed to the chair and walked out of the room, missing the surprised face of the interviewer.

--**--

A knock came on her door, making Hinata look up from her phone. Hanabi eyed her. Hinata was still dressed for the interview, minus her heels. She pulled her hair down on the bus to hide her face. “That bad?”

“I wasn’t qualified, but I wanted the experience anyway. It doesn’t make it hurt less.” Hinata set her phone down.

“You’ll get there,” Hanabi assured her. “I finished my homework. Come watch a movie with me.”

“I should get to bed. I have to be in the office tomorrow by five.” Hinata was tired. She took a bus and a long train ride to the interview and back.

“That place is awful,” Hanabi whined. “It’s 8 o’clock.”

“It’s temporary.” Hopefully, Hinata’s phone rang in her hand. “Hello?”

“Hyuga Hinata?”

“Yes?” Hinata wondered.

“I am from Uchiha Industries. You had an interview with me.” 

Hinata’s breath caught. They don’t call you for rejections. “Yes,” Hanabi dove to press her ear on the other side to listen.

“We are offering you the position. We need you tomorrow at 6 am sharp.” He told her.

“I… Yes, sir.” Hinata agreed.

“Goodnight.” He hung up. 

Hinata didn’t even take the phone from her ear until Hanabi shook her arm excitedly. “You got the job!!!” 

“How…?” Hinata wondered aloud.

“Who cares!” Hanabi hung herself over her sister. “It doesn’t matter if you keep this job for a month. Passing an interview at a big company will get you a job anywhere!” Hinata never told her what the company name was. Hanabi never asked. Hinata was too embarrassed that she put her resume into the biggest company in the city.

“Yeah,” Hinata wasn’t sure she would last a day.

Testing Success

Pairing: Sasuke x Hinata Rating: T

Description: Hinata accidentally applies for the director's assistant position at Uchiha Industries. Though surprised when she gets the job, it seems like the director has it out for her. His sons seem to be on her side, though.

Tags: Romance  |  Fluff and Angst  |  Happy Ending  |  Alternate Universe - Office  |  Alternate Universe - Modern Setting 

[followthedurge]

eeee here's a preview of chapter one!! it has the meet cute

-

Batsheva snatched up the note that was just slipped under her door. She sat down at her oak desk, the wooden chair cool through the thin fabric of her black smallclothes. The parchment was folded with Lord Gortash's wax seal keeping it stamped shut. She slid a nail beneath the fold and popped the letter open.

Bhaalspawn—ooh, that meant he was angry with her—come to my chambers, as you are now dressed. I have an assignment for you.

Batsheva rolled her eyes. She walked to her dresser and slipped on a deep red sleeveless tunic, revealing her muscular light violet arms and black linen breeches. She walked barefoot to his room. Disobeying a direct order to have her in her smallclothes and insulting him by not wearing shoes around Wyrm's Rock Fortress. The polished wood was cold and slippery against her feet. She rapped her knuckles on the door and he opened it with a twist of magic.

She slammed the door shut and he twisted his head from his desk to glare at her. His lip curled into a sneer when he saw what she was wearing. "What do you want?" she asked, inappropriately informal.

He was on her in a flash, the sharp point from his gauntleted finger tipping her chin up at him. "I should gut you for your insolence," he growled.

"I'd like to see you try," Batsheva said. "But, we know my daddy would have your head for it."

Gortash briefly paled at her threat. While Bane and Bhaal were mortal enemies, they swore to have their respective Chosen work together with Myrkul's to devise the most diabolical plan for the total domination of Faerûn.

"I ask again, what do you want?" Batsheva shoved his hand away and sat down on his plush bed. It was warm from a fresh change of bedding. Pampered weakling, she thought.

"I need you to head into town and pick up a package for me," Gortash sat back down at his desk and continued sketching in his journal.

"Have a servant do it. Surely my skills could be put to better use," Batsheva gripped the sheets. Now who deserves to be killed for their insolence.

With a flick of his wrist his mage hand grasped her neck tightly shoving her flat onto the bed. "You know why," he growled. And that she did. The last time he forced her to his bedchambers for the evening she fought him every step of the way. Her bite into his jugular was barely stemmed with a single potion. She had to call the healer. The agreement between Bane and Bhaal included a clause allowing Bane's Chosen to use her skills, all her skills, for whatever he needed. Bhaal…received nothing in return. Her father thought she'd grown soft during her time in Faerûn and hoped this would harden her again.

He could not have been more wrong.

"Bane's Chosen gets what Bane's Chosen wants," she choked out. The mage hand dissipated. With a metallic snap of his gauntleted hand he teleported her back to her room. Batsheva shuddered, it always made her a little queasy. She slipped on her leather boots, tucked the infernal iron dagger into her waistband and flattened her tunic over it.

She looked at the invoice tucked into the letter and she growled. She was to pick up a single fucking cake from Elfsong Tavern. At least it was already paid for.

She welcomed the warm sun on her bare skin and the breeze through her black and red curls. She paused at the bridge into the Lower City, basking.

Until the dark voice broke through her meditation, Aren't you hungry, dear child of Bhaal? With a deep, annoyed sigh she continued into the city. Elfsong Tavern was sparsely populated at this time of day but the hoppy smell of beer and fresh bread surrounded her. The baker was nowhere to be found, however. She'd have to talk to the barman instead.

There was a tiefling man at the bar. Pale red skin with deep black horns that curled tightly back along the curve of his skull, bordering the flat black mohawk. He wore brown and green leather, a symbol of the Guild. Bold to wear in the daylight. She stepped up to the bar and waited for the barman to turn around.

The tiefling looked at her hungrily, "Seen you 'round before?" His accent was that of the Lower City with a twist similar to Nine-Fingers Keene. It irked her.

She looked at him and was immediately taken aback by his bright demonic eyes. The sclera were black while his irises were as grey as stormclouds. His pointed ears curled back, matching his horns. He was rather handsome for a tiefling. As a Lolth-sworn Drow, she rather admired the infernal creatures from the Hells. "No," she said plainly.

The barkeep finally turned around. "I'm here to pick up a pastry," she said.

"Name?" the Dwarf said.

"It's the only fucking pastry order you have," she snapped. She tried to keep her ties to Gortash a secret.

The Dwarf grunted and headed through a swinging door to the kitchen.

"Havin' a party?" the tiefling asked.

"Is that any of your business?"

"Might be, might not be," he said. "Name's Vincent."

"I don't care," she said.

Vincent snapped his fingers, "Hang on! I remember where I've seen you now. I've seen you head to the Undercity Ruins once or twice. Spooky fuckin' place that."

Batsheva froze. It was where Bhaal's Temple was, where she went to commune with her father and where her private chambers were. The bartender came back with a tin box and handed it to her. Batsheva left without another word.

She walked through an alley, intending to take a quick breather and see if there was a vagrant that would sate her hunger. She felt a tug, the feeling of a hand slipping into her pocket. She dropped the cake, ripped out the dagger and twirled around. She slammed the tiefling into the brick wall. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't gut you," she hissed.

Vincent only grinned as he held up one finger, her purse hanging by its string over one finger. Gold meant nothing to her. She placed the edge of her dagger against his throat.

"Infernal iron, eh? Rare stuff that is, valuable too," Vincent said. His tail whipped up and grasped her wrist, the barbs at the end digging into her skin. She grimaced but withstood the pain, she loved pain. When he saw she didn't move, he squeezed tighter until he cut off the circulation. Her hand became weak and she dropped the dagger. He caught it in one hand, ducked under her arm and pinned her against the wall, pushing her face into the brick.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't take everything you have, Batsheva," he whispered in her ear. His infernally hot breath tickled her pointed ear and she shivered. Until the realization he knew her name hit her.

"How do you know my name, Vincent?"

"Guild's had their eye on you ever since you started to work for Gortash," his tail snaked up her tunic and wrapped around her waist tightly, holding her still.

"Then you know what will happen to you and your miserable little Guild if you hurt me," she growled. Even his tail was unnaturally warm and another shiver of pleasure raced down her spine.

"Right we do. I wanted to let you know we were watching," Vincent said. The tip of his tail moved higher, closing in on her breast. "Thanks for the dagger." He removed his tail and Batsheva had to stifle a whine.

In an instant he was gone.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Romance in TWD + Emily Near Where Fear Was Filming

@wdway

This is just me rambling about Fear. Overall the mid-season finale was heartbreaking for so many characters, I'm trying to think of a couple that is still established and I can't think of any. Grace died, Sherry and Dwight are separating after the death of their son. Madison has reunited with some of her extended chosen family, Daniel and June, but she still believes that both of her children are dead.

It's unsure of who else in their chosen family is still alive and we won't find out until s8 part 2 airs. I have a feeling that the characters that we will see in part 2 will mostly live. And that tptb will want to end the series with leaving the door open to seeing many of the character again somewhere in the TWDU.

In thinking about how there are no longer any romantic couples left in Fear and for the most part that's true for TWD. Carol and Ezekiel relationship storyline was left open ended. I personally think that they'll leave it somewhat open, that Carol and Ezekiel will always love each other and be very affectionate, but I think their relationship will move forward to living together separately if that makes any sense. She will never refer to herself as his wife or that he is her husband, but they will always be a couple, that are working together to raise Judith and JR and build the CW together. There is that sweet affection between them, but Carol will be more comfortable without labels.

Gabriel losing Rosita and Aaron losing both Eric and Jesus makes them both single fathers now, so there might be something in the future for them.

Eugene and Max, Princess and Mercer are the only couples that we have. And I so hope that Eugene and Max are the foreshadowing of Daryl and Beth. Which would be not only that they will find each other but they will live beyond whatever the next big war/conflict that will come at them. That they will be the couple with a happy ending. That is something that I think TWD Universe going forward desperately needs. More hope, more happiness.

I'm not talking about departing from the genre of horror or overly dripping with sweetness, butterflies and fairy tales, but I think people are sick and tired of seeing characters they love die. That happiness on those rare occasion when it's given to our characters is quickly and usually brutally snatched away.

I think it's time for something different, if they want to build back their fan base and enlarge it to newcomers. I believe that the fans want to root for the characters they love and when their characters are happy, the fans are happy too. Throw in a few nasty villains that fans love to hate and you've got a hit, haha.

We already know that Rick and Michonne will find each other and we strongly suspect that they will united with their family's, Judith and JR but also their chosen families, Daryl, Beth, Morgan, Carol and the rest of TF. I do wonder how Maggie and Negan's spinoff will line up with the other spin-offs because it is set a few years ahead.

I have no doubt that they will all blend together but I'm really scratching my head and how they're going to achieve that and how many time jumps are we going to have to have. I really want them to come together before the main characters are in their 70s or '80s and they have to do major makeup to make them look older, haha.

I warned you at the beginning that this was a ramble and that's exactly all it is.

@galadrieljones

I feel you and I am ready for some major love stories. The only love story I can think of in Fear that hasn’t been torn apart is Al and Isabelle. They are still out there.

Part of me is still sad about John and June. They were by far the best love story Fear had, I think, and that was dashed away. Also I hope you’re right too about getting Daryl’s backstory for the spin-off. When I watched that clip of Norman on Jimmy Kimmel he mentioned that he wanted the show to be called “Daryl Dixon.” This would imply it’s about HIM, not as much the world, and that works hopefully entail flashbacks.

(John’s character was also one of my favorites. His episodes were extremely good and he was also just so…good. I feel like after he died the show got a little bit worse. Maybe that’s just me tho.)

@wdway:

I totally forgot about Isabelle and Al. I hope we do find out about them before the series. I've always thought they would be connected with Maggie's story but I don't know how that's going to line up now with their spin-off. I feel the same about Daryl. I really don't have a great interest in spending a huge amount of time with backstories of characters he will meet, but I do hope that there will be a plot to his story that will include not only Beth but the variance walkers and what how that would implies towards the war with the CRM.

I definitely agree about June and John. I absolutely loved, loved John. The actor was so good, he was so perfect in that part. I hate that he felt it was time for him to leave. And I agree his departure and his character's death changed the feeling of the show a great deal, imo.

@twdmusicboxmystery:

I couldn’t agree more about needing some epic romance in TWD. They’re really touting Richonne as being that; and I’m excited for their spin-off. But of course we’re all looking much more forward for the unseen relationship on the horizon: Bethyl.

@wdway

For a very long time I've always been hesitant to think that Beth would show up anywhere other than TWD mothership show but it didn't happen in TWD. And this little tease that they've done with Fear truly has me wondering if they would go in that direction. That they would use Fear to unveil Beth.

I'm doing a back and forth to the benefits or the downside to it. I would think the benefit is that they could have filmed some with Emily without anyone looking over their shoulder as with Daryl spinoff. We do know Emily was in Savannah. I guess I could Google and see when filming ended for Fear, then compare that date to when Emily was in Savannah. The question is will Beth appear somewhere during the second half or would they just leave that as an ultimate tease. I think I want to believe that the so-called friends wedding happened towards the end of what would have been the filming of Fear. Anyway it's fun to speculate about.

@galadrieljones

@wdway, I just did what you suggested and Emily was there like smack in the middle of filming, so.

@wdway

So we have yet another "coincidence." That bit of blonde hair is looking more and more interesting isn't it.

So do you guys think there is benefit to her showing up in Fear (not that she is) but could be?

Let's play devil's advocate and it is Beth in the teaser scene. The other thing that occurred to me is that this places her in the West, you could say the Western frontier and in the last last episode of TWD we had Daryl returning after a year from the "frontier."

I keep coming back to the question of where was Daryl during that year after the fall of CW and the one year anniversary? Why did he leave Judith and RJ? Why did he come back and then leave, yet again?

If Emily was filming Fear in Savannah the cover story she posted would have been a great cover for she being seen in Savannah. Has you guy's noticed In watching Emily's IG post for the last few years would it be unusual for her to mention being in a location for a friend's wedding or some kind of event? Is her giving an explanation, for no real reason, of why she's in a certain location unusual for her? Or does she post that type of thing quite often?

@galadrieljones:

I’ll start here, and say that I don’t think that sort of this is super typical. It was weird because she just talked about how she found her dress in Savannah, and she mentioned it like 2-3 days after having been there.

She also hid that bit under a cut in the caption, which means you have to click “read more” to see it. Otherwise you just see the part about her “cozy press outfit.”

In her original Savannah post, which was buried in a story (which are temporary), she’s also wearing that sweater she wore on TTD. Sure maybe she just likes it! But there could also be something to that. To me, it seemed like Emily posted that thing about being in Savannah in her story. She didn’t initially say why she was there. She just posted a picture of herself in the sweater with the tag “Savannah.”

Perhaps she started getting DMs about whether she was there for filming. Maybe tptb told her to come up with an excuse. Maybe she didn’t realize ppl were watching Fear filming and would be asking questions. Or maybe it was on purpose. Sometimes I think that when they place stuff in stories, it’s more purposeful, because only ppl who are looking will be sure to find it, and then it disappears.

@wdway:

Thanks @galadrieljones, all of this is good to know. There is still the question of if it was all a coincidence or not. We really won't know until part 2 of Fear comes back. I do think there might be a uproar with some Fear fans if suddenly Beth appeared, it would be somewhat stealing the thunder from the original characters.

Unless somehow Beth's story in some way connected like the kidnapping of children, the setting up new communities, that type of thing. If there's some kind of tie say between Beth and Alicia, which I would truly love because I have always thought they would have been great friends. That would be a good spin on a crossover character but who knows.

I would love to see Beth in a part 2 preview for Fear during Comic-Con, with Daryl spin-off panel following. A great one, two punch and a real shocker. A must watch the last half of Fear and definitely Daryl's spin-off mentioned. But that's just my wishful head canon.

[captainswanapproved]

16 XOXOXO

16. “Are you jealous?”

A/N: Again, this got away from me and turned from fluff to smut. I hope you enjoy, @aellyon-targaryen , only the best for my ship mates.

The mood of the evening was celebratory, but Rhaenyra could not feel any joy. She had not chosen to marry Laenor Velaryon. She cared not for his proclivities. He was a good and honorable man and would make a fine husband, but the idea of spending her life with him bored her senseless.

Even as he sat beside her at the long feast table telling her of his time in the Stepstones and his flights with Seasmoke, she found herself holding back a yawn.

The doors of the grand hall opened, and Daemon sauntered in. Her father’s Kingsguard drew their swords, but Viserys said, “Bring another chair. It is a joyous occasion. Family should be together on a night such as this.” Her raised his goblet in a salute to the Velaryons, and smiled slightly at his brother.

Rhaenyra felt Daemon’s eyes on her. She did not, however, meet his gaze. He had left her in the pleasure house alone and wanting. She still had not forgiven him for it. An idea entered her mind. “Laenor, would you care to put on a show this evening?”

Laenor looked taken aback. “I do not have the pleasure of understanding you, Princess,” he said, his voice low.

Rhaenyra explained her plan and watched the corners of Laenor’s mouth turn up. “It is nothing that he does not deserve, Princess. I shall be happy to assist you. And Joffrey, I am sure, will help as well.”

“Excellent,” Rhaenyra said, and then she kissed Laenor chastely on the mouth.

Some of the guests have indulgent shouts of approval. It was a wedding celebration after all.

Rhaenyra looked in Daemon’s direction, taking Laenor’s hand as she did.

Daemon was gripping the table, his knuckles turning white. His other hand fidgeted with his knife. Rhaenyra grinned. Perhaps the evening would not be so dull after all.

***

Rhaenyra Targaryen would be the death of him. That is if he did not throttle her first. He watched her as she moved her way through the set of dances. The Velaryon pup took ever opportunity to caress Rhaenyra. He took her hand, kissed her cheek, brushed his hands lower than proper as they danced.

Rhaenyra’s coquettish laughter rang above the music. Perhaps the rumors were wrong. Laenor may not be a pillow biter after all.

The boy’s companion, Joffrey, was it, danced with Rhaenyra next.

Daemon rose from his seat and prowled the periphery of the dance floor, listening intently for snatches of Rhaenyra’s conversation. “You are truly the most beautiful woman in the realm. If I had any skill in combat, I might be tempted to challenge Ser Laenor for your hand, Princess.”

“Ser Joffrey, you flatter me. I am sure my future husband would not mind if I favored you with a kiss.” And then she brushed her lips across the young man’s cheek.

Daemon’s fingers curled into a fist. What in the seven hells was Rhaenyra playing at?

Daemon moved his way through the dancers until he was face to face with Rhaenyra. “Uncle, I did not expect your company,” Rhaenyra said, her violet eyes gleaming with mischief.

“It is my turn to dance with the princess,” Daemon told the knight.

Joffrey bowed. “Of course, my prince.”

“That was rude,” Rhaenyra commented as she continued the movements of the dance.

Daemon lifted her up as the dance demanded, but he did not remove his hands from her body once he set her back down. “Is this what you want?” Daemon asked her in High Valyrian.

“I was not under the impression that what I want mattered to you, Uncle. You made that quite clear before you returned to the Vale.”

“I did not leave by choice,” Daemon argued, taking her hand and drawing her away from the dancers. He led her to a curtained alcove, impatiently shoving her inside. She did not appear displeased by his forcefulness. Rather, she seemed amused by it.

“So my father was in the brothel that night? How strange. I do not recall seeing him.”

Daemon took her face in his hands, wanting to silence her impudent mouth. Instead, he took a slightly more rational approach. “Laenor Velaryon does not deserve you. He is not a true dragon. He will bore you senseless.”

Rhaenyra, much to his surprise, laughed and spoke in the common tongue. “Are you jealous?”

When he did not answer, Rhaenyra pulled away from him. “It is my wedding day, Uncle. I must return to my future husband.”

Daemon scowled as she retreated.

Very well, he thought. Two could play at this game.

Laena Velaryon was younger than Rhaenyra and not nearly as beautiful, but she would suit his purpose well enough.

Daemon approached her. “My lady, your beauty has cast a spell upon me. Will you honor me with a dance?”

One of Laena’s delicate brows rose as she took in his appearance. After a moment, she said, “I would be honored, my prince.”

Daemon kissed her hand before drawing her to his side and escorting her to the line of dancers. Rhaenyra was sharing the set with Ser Harwin Strong. She caught his gaze over the man’s shoulder and Daemon only smirked as he said loud enough for Rhaenyra to hear. “Lady Laena, your beauty rivals that of our Princess. I wonder if sailors who venture near Driftmark crash upon the rocks, drawn in by your siren’s spell.”

Laena blushed furiously. Out of the corner of his eye, Daemon saw Rhaenyra frown.

“My prince, you flatter me. I am nothing to our future queen, but you must come to Driftmark to see its beauties for yourself. My father would be honored to host a prince of the realm, I am sure.”

“Were I to visit your home, my lady, we would be shortly forced to wed. I have never claimed to be a saint.”

Laena blushed again, but did not seem displeased. Then Daemon did the unthinkable. He kissed her lips, and lingered ever so slightly.

There were several murmurs and gasps from those around him. Laena averted her gaze, embarrassed. “I must return to my lady mother,” Laena said, her voice timid. “I thank you for the dance, my prince.”

Laena hurried away to where her Princess Rhaenys stood with a group of ladies. Daemon supposed he was fortunate that Corlys had apparently missed Daemon’s improper advances. But they had served their purpose.

Rhaenyra was glowering at him and Daemon only bowed slightly in her direction before leaving the hall.

***

Rhaenyra was going to strangle Daemon for upstaging her at her own wedding party. The ladies were whispering behind their hands and tittering. Corlys Velaryon was conferring with her father, as Daemon had apparently vanished into thin air.

But Rhaenyra knew Daemon better than her father. And so she left her own wedding feast, demanding that Ser Erryk Cargyll accompany her to the dragon pit.

“Princess, your father will be angry,” Ser Erryk protested.

“He will be angrier yet if some harm befalls me. I am going to the dragon pit. You swore to protect my father and his family.”

To his credit, Ser Erryk knew when he was fighting a losing battle. “As you wish, Princess.”

When they reached the dragon pit they were greeted by two surprised dragon keepers. “Princess, Syrax is asleep.”

“That is no trouble. I will awaken her myself,” Rhaenyra said. She turned to Ser Erryk. “Stay with the dragon keepers. I do not wish to be disturbed.”

Just as Rhaenyra expected, Daemon sat, leaning against Caraxes. His eyes twinkling in the torchlight.

“Ah, Princess, I did not imagine you would grace me with your presence. Surely you will be missed back at the Red Keep. The Velaryons would not thank you for abandoning their son, your beloved future husband.”

“And what of your offenses Daemon?” Rhaenyra demanded, closing the distance between them and ignoring Caraxes when he growled.

“You kissed the Lady Laena in the middle of my wedding feast. Everyone is talking about it. Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys are demanding punishment for your offense.”

“The Sea Snake and Princess Rhaenys can hang,” Daemon said, his tone casual.

“And what of your offenses against me, Daemon?” Rhaenyra demanded.

“You started it, Princess,” Daemon said with a smirk. “If I did not know any better I would think you were jealous.”

Rhaenyra was tempted to strike him. “You are the most infuriating man in the realm,” she cried. Her voice awakened Syrax, who slept in the stall beside Caraxes.

“Why did you come, Princess?” Daemon asked, “If I am so infuriating?”

Rhaenyra scowled at him, eyes blazing. Why had she come? She was to wed another man this very evening. Daemon would never be hers. And yet. . . she wanted him.

“Well?” Daemon asked.

And without thinking, Rhaenyra seized his doublet and pulled him to her, kissing his impudent, infuriating mouth and finally silencing him.

It was better than their kisses in the brothel. He kissed he back with an unrestrained fervor and she pressed herself against his lean, muscular body, forcing him to stumble back against the stone wall of the dragon pit.

His hands caressed her curves, one cupping her breast, the other splayed across her bottom. He soon began peppering her neck with kisses. Rhaenyra moaned with satisfaction and pressed her hips against his, reveling in the thrill of sensation when she felt him, hard against her thigh.

Rhaenyra started ripping at his clothing, forcing it aside and baring his neck and shoulders to her greedy eyes. He was beautiful, and she wanted him with a passion she did not understand.

Deft fingers undid the laces of her gown until she was equally bare. A thumb tweaked her nipple and she moaned again, encouraging Daemon’s attentions.

“Beautiful,” Daemon said in High Valyrian as he began to worship her breasts with his deft fingers and lips.

Rhaenyra sank to her knees, pressing them against the scratchy straw that covered the stone floor. Daemon clung to her, continuing his efforts. One hand wandered to the juncture between her thighs and he began to stroke her. She keened with pleasure and Daemon stifled the sounds of her rapture with kisses.

Before too long, she was writing beneath him, her bare back pressing into the cold floor. Caraxes, sensing his rider’s pleasure, had moved away, curling himself into the corner.

“Take me as your wife, Daemon,” Rhaenyra demanded. “Your marriage was recently dissolved. I see no need to take a Velaryon husband.”

Daemon looked down at her, his attentions ceasing and leaving her dreadfully frustrated.

“You are not serious,” Daemon said.

“I want to be yours. Damn my father and anyone else who would oppose the match. I will be the queen one day, and you will be my consort. Now, obey your queen, and make me yours.”

“As my queen commands,” Daemon said, settling himself between her thighs. With one powerful thrust, he was buried inside her to the hilt. She cried out his name and their dragons roared their satisfaction.

Soon, she was drowning in a sea of sensation as Daemon moved within her. Her pleasure was building, and she wrapped her legs tightly around his hips as she rode the wave of her climax. Daemon tumbled over the edge soon after, spurting his release deep inside her. If the gods favored them, she would soon be carrying a little prince or princess.

Daemon kissed her soundly. “I want to wed you in the tradition of our house,” he said. “Your father denied my request.”

“Then let us go to Dragonstone. Maester Gerardys will happily oblige.”

Rhaenyra pulled her dress on again and helped Daemon with his clothing, which had been tossed carelessly away.

They called for the dragon keepers to saddle Syrax and Caraxes.

Later, the Rogue Prince and the Realm’s Delight flew off into the night, their hearts joined, and reveled in their glorious escape.

Send me a number, and I will write a one shot.

[sxmmander]

These Violent Acts CH 11 - House of the Dragon fic

THESE VIOLENT ACTS CHAPTER 11 |  THE UNEXPECTED EXPECTED VISITOR

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They would bow. She would make them bow.

"Do they just give you free rein?"

Naenya closed the book that was resting on her legs, not sparing a glance at Elden as he entered the library. Elden Baratheon was cloaked in the same charisma that seemed to attach itself to the boy upon birth and had yet to let go. Given the opportunity, Naenya would perform an exorcism.

"They tried to lock me up once before," Elden grinned at her, walking towards a nearby table, "I bit the Maester,"

Elden held stray pieces of paper in one hand and a leather-bound book in the other, placing both down on the table as Naenya gave a sarcastic laugh.

To her surprise, Elden didn't try to move towards her or gain her attention. Instead, he simply sat down at the table and began sliding his quill over the paper found within the book. To an even greater surprise, Naenya found Elden's acting even more vexing than when he constantly spoke to her and gave sly comments with a charismatic grin.

Naenya let out a heavy sigh, not wishing for Elden to win in every regard possible and instead tried to focus on her book. It was a book detailing the First Men and how they came to Westeros, though she struggled to remember specific parts with Elden's presence in the corner.

After reading the same page about five times, she finally slammed her book shut with a huff.

"What are you playing at?" Naenya hissed, glaring at Elden.

Elden turned his head towards her, throwing his hands up in mock surrender.

"This is my house, you know? I am allowed to use the rooms I've used since birth," Elden replied with a lazy smile, twirling the quill between his fingers, "I had claims to this library far before you did,"

Naenya's lips pressed together as she promptly stood up, turned away from the Baratheon boy, and focused her attention on the bookcase in front of her.

Glancing up at the roof, she realised she hadn't even finished the book she was originally reading. She couldn't sit back down and continue reading it, however. That would be far too embarrassing in the presence of Elden. She'd just have to start a new book and read the old book in the privacy of her room ,so no one knew of her accident.

Pressing her lips together, she scanned the contents of the shelf. Realising she had chosen a bookcase full of the Baratheon histories she did her best to contain her frustrated huff. Snatching a book off the shelf, she stalked across the room to make space between herself and Elden before sitting down and opening the book quickly.

"Interested in our histories, are you?" Elden smirked, his head tipped back slightly as he watched her from behind him, "I'm sure my father would love to tell you all about it. Though I'm a far better storyteller, prettier too"

.The rain that had been pelting against the roof of Storms End had quietened to a pleasant gentle rhythmic sound, joining the softer crackling of the fireplace before them. It had yet to be so calm and quiet within the castle walls, finally allowing Naenya's thoughts some silence to herself.

Glancing at Elden, she had little idea how such a well-spoken, though incredibly cocky, and smart man could be made in such a cluttered place. With the storms that raged around, Naenya was surprised Elden could train his brain so carefully, let alone hear his own thoughts. Naenya knew that the boy had charisma and charm, a trait not all could easily learn and curate. She just wished he used his charm and pretty looks to respect her instead of arrogantly flirting with her.

Naenya heaved a sigh and snapped the book closed, shaking her head.

"Why is it you must disrespect me so?" Naenya asked, her voice tired.

Elden tilted his head, a look other than pure confidence flickering across his face. For the first time since she had met the boy, she saw genuine confusion cloud his eyes.

"What makes you think I hold any sort of disrespect or disdain for you?"

Elden studied Naenya's face intently, the paper he was scratching marks onto left forgotten as he fully turned towards her.

"Is it not true?" Naenya rubbed her tired eyes with her hands, "You have shown me no sort of respect since we met, incessantly flirting with me as though I am not to be Queen. Not to be respected,"

"I respect you a great deal," Elden's voice was matter-of-fact, as though it was the most obvious thing in existence, "I have heard stories of you for a long time. From your ability to tame the untamable Cannibal to your smarts and logic,"

Naenya watched Elden, he seemed genuinely taken aback by the comment Naenya had made.

"When you anger, I wonder if you will breathe fire towards those who anger you. When you are sad, I wonder if you have control of the clouds because they seem to darken for you," Elden said, picking up his paper, "And when you laugh, it is as though the sky has opened up,"

Naenya's brow furrowed, waiting for some sort of laughter to break from Elden Baratheon as he revealed his grand jest. It never came, however, and Elden instead rose from his seat and made his way over to her.

"I have great respect for the future Queen. I imagine she will bring years of great prosperity," Elden said plainly, placing the paper in her hands, "And I, unfortunately, wish to help her in her success. For she is everything I admire and wish to worship,"

Naenya watched Elden closely as he turned away from her and out of the library. The soft pattering of rain had been replaced by a more aggressive storm. The screams of wind lashing against the tower were only silenced by the monstrous thunder that began to roll through as Naenya continued to stare at the door long after Elden had disappeared and likely fallen asleep.

It was only the blinding strike of lightning outside the window that pulled Naenya out of her trance, finally allowing her eyes to flicker down towards the small paper in her hands. It was a drawing of her. She'd never looked so beautiful before. Her chin was lifted, almost defiantly, towards the heavens. Her eyes were determined, her cheek spattered with blood, and the sword clenched in her hand, dripping with that very same liquid.

What bewitched her most, however, was the crown of King Jaehaerys gleaming proudly on her head. The same crown her father was ruling over the Seven Kingdoms with. She was wearing it. The crown so clearly belonged to her in the drawing. It was hard to think a son could ever wear it as well as she did.

She was a Queen in his drawing.

[hanaasbananas]

Power to Play Chapter 6

A series of ficlets each based off a song from the McFly album Power to Play

AO3

Prev//Next

Taking Back Tonight - A (slight) enemies au

The sky was blushing on the day that Adrien decided to end it all.

It wasn’t a blush of mortification, or anger. Rather, it was much more gentle–the flush of first love suffusing through the sky above him as the sun shone behind grey clouds edged with a pale, glowing pink. It was a lovely shade of pink, one that reminded him of Marinette’s cheeks in those first days before she had known that it was better to hate him.

“Oh I don’t know what you’re so happy about,” Adrien said crossly “the chances of me making my way up there afterwards aren’t exactly high. Heh.” he snickered at his pun before glancing down at his feet. “And I suppose you’re blushing too?” He asked the ground sarcastically. “I’ll be pretty annoyed if you aren’t.”

Plagg–for once–had stopped shoving cheese in his enormous gremlin mouth and watched him worriedly. “You don’t mean–”

“ No,” Adrien rolled his eyes “of course not. I just meant that I think it might be time to…part ways with my father. Forge my own path.” He grinned wickedly. “Maybe even destroy a few things on the way out. What do you say?” 

“What brought this on?” Plagg asked “a special lady–”

“This has nothing to do with Ladybug.” Adrien said quickly. “It’s not.”

“Mhm.” Plagg was unconvinced, but he didn’t push the subject further, returning instead to his cheese. “Whatever makes you feel better, kid."

*

It had everything to do with Ladybug.

Not that Adrien was ready to admit it to himself. He’d told himself over and over that his motivations were completely selfish and entirely unrelated to Ladybug, to Marinette. He definitely didn’t care about the disappointment in her eyes when she’d realised who he was, when she’d asked him to choose and he had left without a second glance. 

Well. Maybe he did, a little. He’d wanted to choose her, had almost said the words, almost reached for her hand and chosen a new life. He’d often wondered where he would be now if he’d listened to his heart, if he’d not let his loyalty bind him.

But ruminating on the what-if’s didn’t change anything, not really. His motivations were purely selfish, Adrien told himself. He had tried to ignore it over the years, had trusted in father blindly and pushed down any resentment he had felt when his freedoms became more and more limited, when fathers single minded obsession had robbed him of his own dreams of university and a life outside of it all.

The time had come now, for him to take back the dreams he had left behind, to leave it behind once and for all. To hell with father! He’d never cared about him anyway.

He was going to leave. Finally. And Adrien knew one thing for sure: he was going to wreak havoc when he did.

*

The akuma was bearing down on Ladybug with single minded determination, its mouth stretching out into a frankly horrific smile. Chat shuddered. Father really knew how to create nightmare fuel. All around them, people screamed, throwing themselves out of its way. Ladybug was holding her own admirably, zig zagging as she ran but Chat could see she was getting tired. She wouldn’t be able to keep running much longer. 

The akuma, on the other hand, seemed to be gaining momentum. 

Shit. 

Watching for an opening, Chat jumped down from his hiding spot just as Ladybug ran past it, scooping her up in his arms. All she managed to do was gasp before he vaulted away, leaving the akuma roaring after them down below. 

“ Wh–” the rest of her words were snatched away by the wind and Ladybug gasped again, her arms tightening around his neck. She was pressed so close to him that Chat could feel her heartbeat thundering in her chest and he resisted the urge to make a flirty quip, filing it away for use later instead. 

Once they were a safe distance away from the akuma–for the time being–he set her down on a rooftop. “Careful!” he reached out to steady her as she tottered unsteadily on her feet. “You okay?”

“Just fantastic!” Ladybug growled, recoiling from his touch. She glared at him. “ What do you think you’re doing?”

“Is that all the thanks I get for saving your life? You’d be mashed potatoes right now if it wasn’t for me.”

“ Mashed–” Ladybug broke off with an angry yell. With great effort, she composed herself and smiled tightly. “Fine. Thank you.”

Chat bowed mockingly. “You’re welcome. So. What do we do now?”

“ We?” Ladybug echoed incredulously. “There is no we. Now I have to go and deal with this akuma and you are going to leave me alone. ”

“Can’t do that, I’m afraid.” Chat clicked his tongue. “I’ve kind of…well I’ve completely destroyed a whole bunch of my fathers research and abandoned his cause.” Ignoring the strangled noise that Ladybug let out at his admission, Chat continued.

“That’s actually why this akuma is so angry, you know. I figured I owed it to you to get you out of there. That is what a hero would do, right?”

Ladybug was staring at him, wide eyed. “You what?” 

Chat blinked. “I owed it to you. I do have some morals you know.”

“Not that you dolt. You…left your father?”

“Well it sounds bad when you say it like that.” Chat tutted. “But yes, it was getting a bit boring to be honest.” He lied. For now, his reasons would remain his own. “I thought it might be fun to switch sides. You did say that the Ladybug and Black Cat are supposed to be partners, didn’t you?”

“No–yeah but” biting her lip, Ladybug regarded him carefully. “This isn’t some kind of trick? You aren’t going to leave again?”

“Nope,” Chat held up his hand in a scouts salute. “Cat’s honour. I swear this isn’t a trick.”

Ladybug snorted. “Bold of you to assume I think you have any honour.”

“Hey-!”

Walking over to the edge of the building, Ladybug looked over her shoulder and beckoned him closer. “C’mon then! I’ll give you a trial run.” She didn’t wait for him to respond, throwing her yo-yo and zipping away.

Grinning, Chat followed behind her, letting out a whoop of excitement. He didn’t know what was in store for him, but one thing was for certain: he was moving towards something much better than before.

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Wednesday

Monday     Tuesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: panic attacks, swearing, getting outed, f slur and d slur, homophobia, puking, toxic friends

Word count: 5,160

(A/N): woah, thank you all so much for all the positive feedback, that really makes my day! 

The room was quiet with the exception of the clacking of the keyboard and the soft chirping of crickets outside your open window. The stars twinkled in the sky as the night droned on and on. There was a loud rustling outside your window, but your sleep deprived mind didn’t think anything of it. It wasn’t important at the moment, the only important thing right now was finishing your work. 

Throughout the night, you worked endlessly on your friend’s work. The essays were relatively easy because Adrian and Annie had luckily chosen topics that you’re somewhat interested in, so at least finding the sources was enjoyable. You had gotten your essay completely written and proofread, Annie’s outline finished, and Adrian’s sources analyzed. You would start on Sammy’s presentation after you finished Adrian’s outline. Hours upon hours passed by you as you worked, yet you didn’t notice the time once. You worked uninterrupted with no breaks. Well, one break to talk to your dad about how you weren’t hungry, but you got back to work right after he left your room. You couldn’t waste any more time than you already have.

Your eyes felt heavy as you typed on your keyboard, working on putting Adrian’s sources together cohesively so that the writing would flow seamlessly. You paused your typing to rub at your tired eyes so you could keep working, you couldn’t afford to fall asleep. You had to get these done as soon as possible if you wanted their forgiveness. 

The blaring of your alarm startled you out of your focus, making you fall backwards out of your chair with a yelp. Landing painfully on your back, you laid on the floor trying to calm your racing heartbeat. You looked out your window. Hints of pinks and yellows were starting to make a gradient with the lightening dawn sky. Shit, you were so focused on getting your work done that you didn’t take account of the time. You just knew today was gonna be long. At least after school volleyball practice was shortened because of finals tomorrow. 

You groaned as you pulled your tired form off from the ground. You made your way downstairs and plopped yourself down at your usual place at the table, burying your face into the crook of your arm. You felt yourself drift off into a blissful sleep, the wood of the table suddenly seemed very comfortable at the moment. Not long after, you were jolted out of your peaceful sleep by a loud crash. Jumping up and looking around with wide eyes, you saw Tubbo looking at you apologetically. There was broken glass in front of his feet on the floor. 

“Sorry, (y/n).”

You just stared at him blankly as you slowly blinked. Philza didn’t spare you a glance as he whisked the short boy away from the glass. “(Y/n), can you please go get the broom and sweep this up?”

You nodded, hauling yourself to your feet and walked over to the storage closet, pulling out the broom and dust pan. You mindlessly sweeped up the glass, your limbs feeling heavy. After throwing the glass away, you rummaged in the cupboard and pulled out a mug. The bitter smell beckoned you welcomingly, working its way through your nostrils and digging itself deep into your brain. Just as you were about to pour yourself a cup, a hand snatched the coffee pot away from you. 

“You shouldn’t be drinking this.”

“You let Techno and Wil drink it, so why can’t I?”

“(Y/n), you’re a full year younger than them and you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast yesterday.”

You felt your eye twitch, “I’m only a year younger than them! There’s literally no-”

“(Y/n),” his warning tone cut you off, putting the pot back into the coffee maker, “you aren’t going to drink this. That’s final. Get a glass of water.”

You huffed and pushed past him to the sink to fill your coffee mug with water. You’ve been drinking coffee for a while behind his back, so you were used to its effects on your body. You supposed that you’d just beg Wilbur to take you to the cafe so you could get your sustenance. He always relented for you. 

You heard him chuckle, “you’ll thank me when you’re older.”

“Mhm.”

You plopped down next to Tubbo nursing your mug of water, trying to make small talk with him. One by one, your brothers made their way to the table. Tommy was talking and gesturing wildly to Tubbo like he normally did, Wilbur looked as dead inside as you felt, and Techno made it a point to ignore you. When someone pissed him off, he can hold a grudge better than he could hold onto his knowledge of Greek mythology, and that’s saying something. Man is obsessed with Greek mythology. 

Breakfast went by in a daze with you struggling to keep your eyes open. At one point, you almost fell asleep sitting up, only to be woken up by Tubbo shaking your shoulder to get your attention. When breakfast was almost done, you had only eaten about half your breakfast. 

Drifting off again, you were startled awake by the screeching of the chairs against the wooden floor and loud shouts coming from your brothers. You didn’t have the energy to race them to the bathroom like you usually did, you’d just freshen up after they were done. You tried to stand up to go to your room to get dressed, but you were stopped by a hand on your shoulder forcing you to sit back down. Looking up, you were met with the concerned, yet stern eyes of your father. 

“You’re not leaving this table until you’ve eaten at least a few more bites and tell me why you’re so tired.”

“I just stayed up later than I normally do finishing up some homework, it won’t happen again.”

“It better not or else I will make you stay home next time. When’d you go to bed last night?”

You avoided his eyes, “around one thirty or two.” You couldn’t tell him that you didn’t actually go to sleep last night, he’d flip. 

“You know, you’re a terrible liar.” Shit.

Looking him in the eye, you spoke more confidently. “Three in the morning.”

“(Y/n)-”

You felt a sudden rage start to twist inside you as he started to lecture you about taking better care of yourself. He was treating you like a child and you were not having it. 

“-young kids like you need to- are you even listening?”

You set your jaw and willed yourself not to explode at him. “Dad, I’m not a child. I know how to take care of myself.”

You saw him narrow his eyes and purse his lips in frustration, “well, obviously you don’t if you’re not eating or sleeping well,” his eyes softened. “I’m starting to worry about you.”

“Well, you shouldn’t because I’m fine,” you snapped at him. “I’m going to get ready.”

You stalked out of the room and stomped upstairs. Passing a shocked Tommy and Tubbo, you made your way into the bathroom to get ready. The person that stared back at you in the mirror looked pale and had dark eye bags accentuating her tired eyes. She had red pimples dotting her face more than she usually did. She was ugly, revolting. The girl you remembered her being was confident in her appearance and walked with an air of importance. Now, she was a decrepit thing that was run down and scared of her own shadow. You couldn’t recognize the girl that stared back at you anymore. You should’ve been able to;  after all, she was you and you were her.

You rushed through your morning routine in the bathroom avoiding looking at yourself in the mirror. You opened the bathroom door only to be met with Wilbur’s chest, his hand poised in the air in a closed fist ready to knock on the door. He stepped back.

“We’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry up.”

You glanced at the clock on the wall. “Wil, we still have twenty minutes before school starts. We don’t have to leave for another ten minutes.”

He gave you a smirk, “well, you want coffee, don’t you? You look dead.”

“Oh thank god. I feel dead, I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“When’d you go to bed?”

“I didn’t.”

“Christ, (y/n) I knew you were a dumbass, but not that much of a dumbass.”

You rolled your eyes, walking around him and into your room. You felt a stab of hurt in your heart. “Fuck you.”

Before you could close the door, he shouted out a cheeky “love ya too (y/n)!”

You took off all your clothes slowly and stood in front of your open closet deciding on what you should wear today. You figured that since you felt like absolute shit, you should probably put a little bit more effort into your appearance. Picking out your favorite flannel shirt and favorite pair of pants. Smiling at yourself in the mirror in your room, you felt slightly more confident in your appearance. You felt like you could walk around the hallways at school without as many peering eyes trying to figure out your every secret. But maybe that was just the sleep deprivation talking. You tend to be more impulsive and emotional when you’re sleep deprived.

You slung the backpack onto your back with less difficulty than in the previous days. Your back was healing faster than you thought it would. Now, it barely hurt and the swelling completely went away.

You went downstairs and slunk past the kitchen where Philza was talking to Tommy and Tubbo. You didn’t want them to notice you, you felt somewhat guilty for snapping at your dad. You slipped through the front door and hopped into the passenger seat next to Wilbur. You three usually rotated seats counterclockwise and took turns driving each day. Now, you were just waiting for Techno.  

“Well, you look less homeless today.”

“Thanks Wilbur, I just felt like looking a little nicer than usual.”

“Who’re ya dressing up for? Is it Adrian?” He asked with slight disgust. He hated Adrian almost as much as he hated Annie and Sammy. He thought he was nothing more than a fuckboy looking to get into your pants. Little did he know you were secretly a raging lesbian so deep in the closet that you’re froliking with Aslan through the flowerfields of Narnia.

“Wilbur, I’m gay why would I-” you froze, cursing your sleep deprived self for lacking a filter. Your breath caught in your throat and you felt anxiety start to seep into your veins and pump around your body, filling every single nook and cranny with dread. You could feel tears welling in your eyes as you stared at your shaking hands horrified at yourself. How could you just… just out yourself like that? How could you be so careless? So stupid?

You barely felt it when Wilbur reached over to press a gentle hand on your arm. “(Y/n), are yo-”

“I-tha-that was a joke, I’m not gay, I’m straight.” Your words came out in frantic jumbles, desperately trying to fix your slip up. Oh god, you really fucked up this time.

“(Y/n), brea-”

“I swear I’m not gay, I like men, I do. I-”

“(Y/n), breathe with me.” Wilbur’s firm, yet gentle voice demanded. He placed your hand on his chest and took in a deep breath, held it, and released it slowly. You tried your best to follow him, but after about ten minutes, you were slowly but surely calming down. It was a lot faster calming down from a panic attack when you had someone helping you breathe. You’ve never gotten help with a panic attack before, it was nice. Becoming more aware of your surroundings, you took notice of the soft fabric of Wilbur’s sweater, the gentle thumping of his heart, and his worried expression. You also became aware of the extra hand rubbing small circles into your shoulder from behind your seat. It was Techno.

Taking in a shaky breath, you took your hand out of Wilbur’s grip and clasped your hands tightly in front of you, shrugging Techno’s hand off from your shoulder. 

“...Can we please leave? I don’t want Dad or Tubbo and Tommy seeing me like this.”

Wordlessly, Wilbur started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. At the intersection, he turned in the opposite direction of the school. “Wilbur, where are we going? The school’s the other way.”

“We’re going to the cafe for some coffee, my treat.”

“But school starts in five minutes, we’re gonna be late if we go to the cafe.”

“Actually,” Techno’s deep voice chimed in, “school started ten minutes ago. If we’re already late, there’s no harm in skipping first block.”

“Tech, I literally have no idea what’s going on in stats.”

“I’ll give you my notes.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

Wilbur pulled into the cafe’s parking lot, “don’t be stupid, (y/n). You can never bother us.”

You didn’t say anything as you left the car and headed into the cafe. You could think of plenty of ways you could bother your older brothers. You bothered everybody just by being in their presence. You just had that effect. 

Your brothers followed you into the cafe, glancing at each other worriedly. You three quickly got your orders and sat in the secluded back of the cafe. Soft jazz music drifted throughout the quiet cafe. 

“(Y/n), we need to talk about what happened. Was this your first panic attack?” Wilbur asked you gently.

“...No, I’ve had them before.” 

“Were they always this intense? You’re still shaking.”

“That one was nowhere near as intense as the ones I usually have.’

“Usually? Do you have them often?” Tecno asked.

“Yeah, usually a couple of them a week since the middle of freshman year. Nothing I can’t manage.”

“So you’ve been doing this on your own for three years? You could’ve gotten us to help you.” 

You sighed, looking down at your steaming cup. “...I couldn’t’ve. Don’t get me wrong, I know you guys could help me, but I-I just couldn’t. No one was supposed to find out.”

“Promise us that you’ll come to one of us when you have an attack. We care about you, (y/n).”

“I… I’ll think about it. Thank you.”

The table fell into a comfortable silence as you all sipped at your drinks, the comforting taste of the bitter coffee dancing across your tongue.

“Ya know, we don’t care that you’re gay. A lesbian called me ‘actually pretty funny’ once and I’m still riding the high.” 

“Yeah, you’re still you. Nothing changes the fact that you’re our little sister.” 

You smiled as you felt warm inside. You knew your brothers loved you, but you didn’t know that they loved you for being you. You didn’t think anybody loved you unconditionally like that, and that made you feel genuinely happy.

“Thank you guys, for everything. I-I can’t put into words how much that means to me, I love you guys so much!”

“We love you too,” Wilbur smiled before he dropped it into a stern frown. “But if any girl hurts you, we’ll have a stern talking to her.”

“Yeah, we can’t beat up girls. We’ll put her in her place alright.” You snorted into your coffee, almost spilling it on yourself. Quickly setting it down before you could baptize yourself with the scalding liquid (though, you did consider coffee to be holy), you wiped at your teary eyes. 

“And that’s why I love you guys.”

“We’re serious, she’ll be wishing she got beat up after we’re done scolding her.” Wilbur said seriously before he broke into a grin and started laughing. 

The conversation carried on about your sexuality, how you found out, when you found out, if you’ve told anyone yet (they were honored that they were the first people you’ve told, even if you did it accidentally mid-panic attack). Eventually you had to go back to the school before your second block started. You three split ways to your separate classrooms. 

Annie and Adrian were locked onto you as soon as you walked through the door. They looked angry at you. What’d you do this time to piss them off?

“Where the fuck were you this morning? We were looking everywhere for you,” Annie seethed.

“Yeah, you wasted so much of our time looking for your sorry ass. You ditch us again?”

Oh, that. “Look, I didn’t mean to skip out on you guys again. It was a rough morning.” 

“That’s funny because we also had rough mornings, yet we still hung out with each other. You aren’t special.” Adrian rolled his eyes at you.

“It’s gonna take more to apologize. We don’t let things like the little stunts you pull go off scott free.”

“Oh, Annie I have the best idea,” Adrian squealed, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. 

“What is it Dri?” Annie’s eyes shone.

“Our little (y/n) can set you up with one of her brothers and she can go on a date with me on a double date! It’s foolproof, not even someone as dumb as (y/n) could fuck it up.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good id-”

“It’s perfect Dri! Can it be with Wilbur? He’s literally so hot! Oh, the way his fingers can work that guitar…” Ew. The thought of Wilbur and Annie together made you scrunch up your nose with disgust.

“I’m sorry, but Wilbur’s actually dating Sally Fishmin right now. They’re actually really cute together-”

“God, how could someone as hot as Wilbur go for Sally Fishmin? She’s disgusting, always smells like fish,” Annie gagged, then gasped. “Wait (y/n) do you actually think that she’s more deserving to be with him than I am?”

“No, I nev-”

“Really? Cuz you just did. Glad to see you care about me, (y/n).”

“Annie, you’re literally so beautiful. I never said that you don’t deserve him. You deserve the world. I can’t split them up, but I can do more homework for you.” She perked up immediately, “awe, thanks love! That’s what happens when you actually put effort into how you look.”

“Speaking of, did you get that shirt out of the trash? It’s really not a look.” Adrian snickered to himself. There goes what little confidence you had. You actually thought you looked decent today. You felt grateful for your friends, they always told you the truth about how you looked when everybody else lied to you. 

Before you could respond, the bell rang and everybody took their seats. Luckily, Mr. Todd assigned today as a work day for your final research essays. You had finished Annie’s and got Adrian’s thesis done before the bell rang. While you were working on their essays, they were mindlessly scrolling on their phones and texting someone. 

You, Adrian, and Annie met up with Sammy and went into the lunch room. You tried to line up in the lunch line with them, but they laughed and told you that you’re fat enough and you needed to lose weight. What did you do to deserve such considerate friends? You really owed them one for always looking out for and putting up with you.

While you were waiting for them, you pulled out your phone. To your surprise, Haley texted you a screenshot of her conversation with Unknown. You felt a chill run down your spine. All four pictures were of you. You rubbing your eyes as the light of your computer provided the only light in the room. Your bare back facing the camera as you stood in front of your closet this morning. You sleeping a day ago (you felt sick as you realized that whoever took the picture was standing directly over your bed). Lastly, you and Haley holding each other’s hand under the moonlight last night. Attached to the pictures, Unknown had typed “you have one more day or else sleeping ugly gets it. Do not tempt us.”

Hales : )

(Y/n), how the hell did they get these pictures of you

Did you seriously leave your window open???

Why wouldn’t you close your curtains

Oh god, do you think they saw us in your driveway????

(Y/n)

Haley calm down 

Hales : )

I know you’re not telling me to calm down right now

You have a stalker

One that can GET INSIDE YOUR ROOM

(Y/n)

We’ll get to the bottom of this

Like I said, I don’t care if my pictures get leaked

I care about your pictures

Until we figure out who’s doing this, we need to lay low

Hales : )

Hanging out last night was a mistake

I shouldn’t have gave you a ride

I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you

I’m straight

And you are too

You said it yourself

We can’t talk anymore (y/n)

(Y/n)

I’m not straight Hales

I’m gay

And I like you

Like

Like you like you

Hales : )

I’m sorry (y/n)

But I’m straight

We can’t talk anymore

Goodbye.

With each text she sent you, you felt your heart drop deeper and deeper into your stomach until you felt your heart shatter in your chest, the pieces lodging themselves deep within you and ripping you open from inside out. How could you be so stupid to think that soemone as perfect as Haley Andrews, arguably the prettiest girl in the senior year, go out with (y/n) Minecraft, a known trainwreck. Annie’s shrill gasp sounded right next to your ear, making you gasp and drop your phone onto the table with a loud bang.

“OH MY GOD (Y/N) YOU’RE A FAGGOT? WERE YOU HITTING ON ME EARLIER? YOU FUCKING PERVERT.”

The entire cafeteria fell into silence as they listened to Annie’s shrieking. Whispers started to meld together.

“(Y/n)’s gay?”

“How gross”

“Damn, I was gonna hit it”

“We have a dyke going to this school?”

You felt like you were suffocating as the whispers and Annie’s yelling jumbled together in a disorienting cacophony. Adrian and Sammy both glared at you from behind Annie with a hatred that you didn’t know they had for you. You tried stuttering an apology, but you were quickly shut up by Annie harshly slapping you across the face.

“I don’t wanna hear it, fag. You’re going to finish our essays and you’re never gonna talk to us again. Do you understand me?” When you didn’t respond, she slapped you again. “I asked you, do you understand me?” 

You frantically nodded your head, grabbed your backpack, and sprinted out the door without any real destination in mind. You sprinted before you found the bathroom that nobody used. Ducking into a stall and slamming the door, you felt yourself start to hyperventilate. You couldn’t feel anything except for the tightness of your chest. You couldn’t see anything. You couldn’t hear anything. You faintly tasted bile rising up in your throat as you bent over to empty your stomach. You threw up everything in your stomach until you were left sitting on the dirty floor painfully dry heaving. 

You sobbed on that floor for what felt like hours. Everybody knows your secret now. Your dirty, dirty secret. God, you were a pervert weren’t you? You made people around you comfortable by just being you. Faintly, you felt your phone start to buzz in your pocket, your shaky hands scrambling to fish it out. They were all texts from your brothers.

Wilby

(Y/n) I heard what happened

Are you okay????

Please answer me

Where are you

Technology Sword

I’m gonna kill them

I swear to god they’re dead

Blood for the blood god

(Y/n)

Pls dont do anything or hurt anyone

I’m fine

I’ll see you two after practice

Wilby

Tell us where you are

(Y/n)

I’m fine

I’ll see you two after practice

You silenced your phone and put it back into your pocket, once again feeling yourself start to dry heave again. Your sobs and gags echoed throughout the bathroom. This is by far the worst panic attack you’ve had yet, and it doesn’t seem like it’s gonna stop anytime soon. You heard the final bell ring and students start to rush to their lockers to get home, so you tried to muffle your shaking sobs the best you could. You had at least an hour before you had to go to volleyball practice. Until then, you would stay in the bathroom trying to ground yourself. 

Luckily, you managed to calm down to the point where you stopped crying and dry heaving. You were only shaking slightly. You felt numb and completely drained from your panic attack, practice today was going to be a struggle. You cautiously walked through the empty hallways jumping at every little noise. When you finally reached the locker room, you made a beeline past Zara and Jazzy to your locker. You pulled out your uniform and changed in one of the bathroom stalls.

Practice went by with the girls on the team giving you sympathetic looks and Haley ignoring you. Not that you noticed, you were ignoring everyone and putting all of your focus on the ball. The entire practice, you felt light headed and drained. Fortunately, practice ended right as you felt like you were going to pass out.

You changed as fast as you could and pulled out your phone.

Dadza

Come outside, I’m here to pick you up

You felt a dread pool in your stomach as you stared at the text. Did he find out? Was he going to kick you out for being gay? Wilbur and Techno wouldn’t let him do that to you, right? Reluctantly, you left the sanctuary of the bathroom stall and rushed out of the locker room and out of the school. Sure enough, your dad’s car was parked in the parking lot. You glanced over to where Haley’s car was parked last night and saw glimpses of you and her chasing each other and laughing into the night sky without a care in the world before you ripped your gaze away to stare at your walking feet.

You reached your dad’s car and sat in the passenger seat. Your dad grinned at you. “Hey hun, how was practice?”

You merely shrugged your shoulders at him. You didn’t have the energy to talk to anyone at the moment. You felt extremely drained.

“What’s wrong, did something happen? You can talk to me.”

“...I’m just sad that the season’s over tomorrow.”

“Don’t be sad kid,” a gruff voice coming from behind you made you jump. “That’s pussy shit.”

You yelped and whipped your head around to look at whoever said that. Your uncle’s cocky grin greeted you. You felt yourself grin back at him. 

“Uncle Schlatt!”

“The one and only.”

“How was your business trip? You’re home early.”

He rolled his eyes, “boring as hell. I’m so fucking glad I got out early, I woulda blew my brains out if I had to stay there any longer.”

“Schlatt!” Philza reprimanded him, glancing at him through the rearview mirror.

“What? I’m just telling the truth. I woulda!” He defended himself.

Your dad gripped the steering wheel. “You didn’t have to say it in front of (y/n).”

Schlatt scoffed, “please, she’s heard me say worse.” 

As they bickered, you felt yourself zone out as you looked out the window. Houses and street signs passed by in a blur as the car moved down the road and pulled into your driveway. You got out as quickly as you could and made your way into the house alongside your uncle and dad. As soon as your uncle walked through the door, Tubbo barrelled into him and pulled him into a tight hug. Schlatt laughed loudly and bent over to pick him up into a hug. You smiled at the father and son as Philza gestured for you to follow him into the kitchen. He opened the oven to check on something cooking inside of it and turned to face you, leaning against the counter.

“So what’s really wrong?”

“I already told you, I’m sad the season’s almost over.”

“It’s something more than that,” as you opened your mouth he quickly added, “and you can’t say that it’s because you’re tired. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

You sighed and mimicked his actions. “...It’s just been a long day. I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

Without warning, he pulled you into a warm hug, your face being shoved into his shoulder and him rubbing circles into your back. “That’s okay, just talk to me when you’re ready. I won’t push you.”

That broke you. Throwing your arms around him, you started to sob into his shoulder. He started to rock you back and forth whispering reassurances into your ear. 

“That’s good, let it all out.”

“I love you so much.”

“I’m here for you.”

With each sentence to fall out of his mouth, you felt more at ease and safe. Your dad always did a great job at making people feel safe, that was just his natural talent. After a while, you pulled away from him.

“Do you feel better?”

You smiled tiredly at him, “Yeah, I really needed a hug.”

He turned around to check on dinner, “I bet, you look like you’ve been to hell and back. You don’t have to tell me what happened, but just know that I’m always here for you and I love you.”

The rest of the family flooded the kitchen after a while of you two talking. Dinner went by with Schlatt laughing loudly and telling stories about the people he met on his business trip. Every now and then, Wilbur and Techno would glance at you, but you ignored them. You just wanted dinner to end so you could pass out in your bed. Once dinner was over, you helped your dad gather everybody’s plate and put them into the sink. The rest of your little family went to the living room to start a game of Monopoly. The last time you all played that ended in fresh bruises and shed tears.

“I think I’m gonna go to bed, I have to get some rest for finals tomorrow.”

“But (y/n), it’s Monopoly! You love Monopoly,” Tommy exclaimed.

“That’s alright, you look dead on your feet kid. Go get some sleep.”

“Thanks Uncle Schlatt. Goodnight everyone, love ya.”

A flurry of goodnights and love you’s follow you as you leave the room and drug yourself up the stairs. Without a second thought, you closed your curtains and plopped face first onto your bed. You passed out without even making sure you were fully on your bed.

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[kimageddon]

Star Wars Fics

I was challenged by @ashotofspotchka . So I did it.

The Prompt

Made this a Tech x Reader fic. I got inspired. And became a bit longer that intended.

I heard y'like Tech?? @eyecandyeoz @fallenrepublick (tag a fan!)

The Wedding

Well this was a right mess to be in. How had you even gotten into this situation? Oh of course… Cid. As much as you admired her, she was a tricky one. If not for her you would have never been invited to her salon, nor would you have met the most frustrating band of men you’d encountered. And their adorable little sister of course.

Had you not taken that job with them a few months ago, you would not have gotten to know them so well. Not been put in so many ridiculous situations and nearly losing your head. You wouldn’t have that new scar across your thigh… and you wouldn’t have grown to like them so much.

Damn it. Your mentor always told you not to get too attached to people, one never knew when they would find each other on opposite sides of the field so to speak. Casual acquaintances were one thing. Friendship was not a good idea. Anything more was downright dangerous. You told yourself it was alright to have a little affection for them. That it was alright to laugh and make jokes, to share a meal with them, to make them smile. That was alright… wasn’t it?

You let out a sigh wishing the ceremony would soon be over. Not that it wasn’t lovely. Of course it was. The venue was beautifully decorated, from the flowers to the guests, everything was stunning. A perfect picture of romance and love and devotion.

You usually detested weddings. There was one incident when you were young and… well it spoiled the idea of them to you. Though this was… actually rather nice. The group, you included, were tasked with providing security for the wedding as a favour to one of Cid’s associates. It was one of the more ridiculous missions… though even you had to admit, you cleaned up alright in a silken dress and heels. It had been a while since you’d had to go undercover and this was… well it was rather fun.

The downside of course had been seeing the boys in their suits. It wasn’t good for your heart. If they looked a picture of badass intimidation in full armour, then the five of them in suits were just perfect.

Hunter even had his hair swept back, though it took you a second to recognise him without the bandana. Wrecker had been a little grumbly about feeling unprotected but was very pleased when you told him he was very handsome. Crosshair had rolled his eyes at first, but gotten very offended when you snatched his toothpick from his lips. Echo had a moment when he was finally dressed. You’d been tying his bowtie when he’d let out a little huff and gave a small smile, saying he “felt human again.” Your heart broke at these words because even with his brothers he still felt… lesser. You had been quick to assure him that he was more human than anyone you knew and that the prosthetics meant nothing on that. Seeing him puff up with pride again was worth nearly getting shot last week.

Even Omega had a pretty dress on and flats tied to her ankles with ribbons. You and she had picked a dress to match Hunter’s suit specifically, she looked up to her big brother so very much, you often thought he was more like a father really, but kept these thoughts to yourself for now.

The last one to join you was the one that affected you the most of course. Tech stepped out onto the landing platform looking like a million credits and like he should have a hot woman on each arm. Like he could make any woman swoon with just a wink.

Hot damn.

Of course he would not do such a thing, and was just looking around, observing the surroundings for possible points of attack, vulnerability and in general taking in the surroundings. As you were also meant be doing. Internally you swore and after drinking in his obliviously gorgeous self, you’d returned to praising the way Omega had pinned her hair without needing your help.

Tech had of course been one of the members of the self-proclaimed ‘Bad Batch’ that you had found the most interesting. He always knew at least five facts about the planet or target or mission that the others didn’t. Always reading, always observing. His eyes behind his goggles were never still. One could think him cold if they didn’t look close enough. But he had a deep passion for knowledge, for technology… its no wonder he had chosen such a name. Practical. To the point. You liked that about him. You like quite a bit about him as you recently discovered. The way he could fix anything. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about learning new things. The way he was so damn efficient at his job, he knew the Havoc Marauder inside and out. The little smile when the two of you shared an inside joke. Or the way he rolled his eyes whenever one of his brothers exasperated him. The way he was always right there to help Omega over large stones or down the stairs of the ship. He was so thoughtful like that, despite not really talking about it.

Actually no. No, you didn't like that. It was just positive observations. That’s all. He was a colleague… maybe a friend. Maybe. There was nothing more to it, you told yourself. There wasn’t anything meant in the little brushes of your fingers when you two passed items between each other. Or passed in the hold of the ship. Or when you were squashed together when hiding from Imps. He didn’t think like that. Right?

Currently, you were standing on one side of the large room, waiting for the bride to arrive. On one side were you, Hunter and Crosshair, standing alongside the pews. On the other, was Omega, Echo, Wrecker and Tech. You wished Tech was on your side of the room, then he wouldn’t be in your vision at least. Not that it meant anything! You were allowed to admire the handsome technician of course, but that's all it was. He certainly wasn’t looking back at you every minute or so either. You were probably imagining it. You had to keep your eyes out for any breaches in security. Any guests acting strange. Certainly not staring at the drop-dead gorgeous clone in glasses across from you.

“Feeling alright, Feisty?” Hunter asked in a low whisper. You smirked at the nickname, apparently you had made an impression on them in the first mission when the client had gotten too mouthy. “Your heart rate is higher than usual.” He added, and you could hear definite amusement in his tone.

You pursed your lips together, trying not to smile from embarrassment. “I’m fine Hunter.” You replied out of the corner of your mouth. Another sweep of the venue with your eyes-- oh kriff Tech was looking your way. Your eyes met for just a second before you tore them away. You heard Hunter chuckle.

“You sure?” He muttered, folding his arms,

“Shut up, Hunter.” You retorted with a soft huff. He chuckled again and you felt your face grow hot. By the nine moons of Endor you wanted to run. It was then the music began and you steeled yourself. The ceremony was beginning.

It was lovely, really. Very sweet, lovely and romantic. The Togruta and his Twi’lek bride seemed very in love if the look on the groom's face was to be believed. He practically lit up like a beacon on seeing her. You had the brief thought... would anyone do that for you? Before immediately pushing it away. Those sorts of thoughts were dangerous. You were sure that it was going to be boring… but you couldn’t help but get a little distracted when they began to say their vows.

“...my darling. There is so much I want to say to you. So much I have felt and left unsaid, I am sure you know just how I feel just by the way I look at you.”

Your eyes instinctively flicked to the otherside of the room. You glimpsed his eyes on you and was immediately caught in the depths of his soft brown eyes. The gentle and kind look you had seen many times, but thought nothing of. He was just kind, that’s who he was. In this moment though-- you were sure there was… a little more to it.

“...It was not easy to let myself open up… to bring myself to acknowledge my feelings but in one moment I knew they were endless and unrelenting. I love you from the depth of my soul and I never want to be apart from you…”

Oh hells… these vows were so saccharine sweet that normally you would be gagging… but these ones hit a little too close to home. You couldn’t stop your eyes from being tugged toward the suited clone trooper opposite you, no matter how you forced them away, to scan the room for danger, they were always drawn back to him. Always him.

“...When I met you you were just so wild. Such a firecracker…!”

There was a laugh across the room and you almost jumped, reminding yourself you were in a crowd. Though none of them paid attention to you. Only one.

“...It was like seeing the sun for the first time, with you in my world colours were brighter, food was sweeter, I found myself longing for times when we could be together, even in the small moments…”

You recalled the times Tech and yourself had been together, doing maintenance, repairs, listening to the music through the entertainment channels. The little laughs, the simple things.

“...not everything was easy, and there has been so much danger…”

You remembered your last serious injury, the piece of twisted metal sticking out of your leg while you hauled ass back to the ship, firing behind you to cover the boys. The way Tech’s eyes had become as big as moons when you finally collapsed, and they saw how bad the injury was.

“... but I always trusted you to get me through anything. I love you, my darling. With all my heart, and soul and with every beat of my heart and breath in my body. I will be yours even after all the stars in the galaxy burn out.”

You had been unable to tear your gaze from Tech’s for the last minute or so and you could feel your face burn. It was only when the vows were done and the bride and groom kissed, their hands wrapped together in a red ribbon and the other guests clapped in support that you snapped out of your little reverie. You joined, half-heartedly in the applause but you felt… strange. You really wanted this mission to be over. Or a drink. Yeah, a drink would be good.