#fucking. explore how she feels when her father drags her son out of the house at god knows what hour AFTER she divorced jerry!!!

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

just finished season 3 and i have. thoughts.

[rahleeyah]

Leah, I've been meaning to ask you for a while now but... well, what are your thoughts on OC Elliot? I ask because I've see lots of 1.0 fans complaining that he often feels ooc and stuff. Idk how I feel about the way he behaved toward Liv tbh. I mean, after rotp, he hasn't really ever put himself in her shoes and, idk.. I'm partial to taking Liv's side so I'm asking you because you tend to have a pretty good eye for the larger picture. How do you come to terms with his actions this past year?

i don't really agree with the take that OC elliot has been OOC; in fact, there have been several times, across both seasons, that as i was watching i have said out loud holy shit, that's elliot stabler. i have actually been impressed with how well they have managed to stay true to his character despite coming back so many years later with a brand new team to write him.

the very first thing we have to remember is that when elliot is first re-introduced in s1, he has just suffered a deep trauma. a sudden, traumatic bereavement is going to have an immediate and shocking impact on any human person's behavior, especially when that person in some measure carries guilt for it. it initially looked like elliot was the intended target, and then it became clear kathy was killed bc of the work he did, there is no universe in which elliot does not feel guilt for that. so you have a guilty, grieving man, who is terrified for his family's safety, who in 1.0 we saw gets unhinged when someone he cares about is threatened. his wife of 40 years has been murdered; fandom may have tepid feelings towards kathy but she is his goddamn mother fucking WIFE.

i have said this before, but when my mother was killed it was six months before my father could do anything but sit quietly on the sofa. he stopped working. he never slept in their house again. i kinda take it personally when people diminish the impact watching his wife be killed right in front of him had on elliot. of course he wasn't cracking jokes and being gentle and warm when he came back; he is traumatized.

sometimes trauma makes you go catatonic. sometimes it makes you spin out. elliot spun out. elliot also found his way back to himself. that shit takes time. and the show walked us through his processing, his growth, his journey back to himself, and i personally liked it.

as far as his treatment of liv, this is a big one. but elliot comes back, is spinning out of control, sees liv, calm, in a position of power, with the son she always wanted - having absolutely no idea where that son came from or which man liv gave that much of herself to - and when his grief is fresh, when he is thinking of endings and pain, he sees her happy, and he hands her a letter that is an attempt at letting her go. she is happy, he is not, he will not drag her down. was it the right thing to do? we can debate that. was he thinking clearly? absolutely not.

he tells her she means the world to him and tells her to back off in the same conversation; i'd argue he is telling her to back off because she means the world to him. he has just seen her with her son, has just told her what a good mom he thinks she is, has seen her smile, and his wife has just been murdered bc of the people he is investigating. of course he doesn't want liv too close. that's an act of protection, not of cruelty.

as much as elliot cares about olivia in those early days he is consumed with the trauma of his murdered wife, his five traumatized children, and his desperate search for justice. there isn't a lot of time to explore his ~feelings about her, and in fact doing so would probably, at that point, feel like a betrayal of kathy. but he kissed angela! you say. yes. he goes to a woman who does not mean anything to him, whose opinion of him does not matter to the extent that olivia's does, who is not trying to help pull him out of darkness, and he kisses her and pulls away quickly. he's spinning out, this shit happens. it doesn't mean what he felt for angela was comparable to what he feels for liv; i'd argue it's bc he feels less for angela, and she was manipulating him the whole damn time anyway.

elliot goes under with the albanians, running away from himself, and that hurts olivia but that decision wasn't about olivia. that wasn't him doing anything to her. that was him trying to escape his own darkness, and realizing he couldn't. he tried to lose himself, and he didn't like what he found when he did. he made the choice to come home. to come back.

what would putting himself in her shoes look like? could he have thought about things from her perspective and not given her the letter? sure, but again, i think he did that bc he thought it would be better for her. and he regrets it so fucking much that he goes stumbling into her house in the middle of the night just to tell her it will always be you and i.

could he have not gone radio silent on her? not really, not while he was under. going under with the albanians was a selfish choice, but everyone makes mistakes, and he learned from it.

as he crawls up out of his hole and plants his feet on solid ground olivia calls him out for not asking about her. why didn't he ask sooner? is it maybe bc a part of him doesn't want to know? bc he's afraid of what he might find? can we blame him for that, really, especially after he listens to her, and asks? did we really expect him to ask the most painful questions right away, is it not kinder to ease into the stories of everything he's missed by choosing a topic that doesn't hurt too much?

all of this to say, elliot has been working through his own shit, and he is coming to a place where he is ready to be what olivia needs him to be. he wasn't ready, after rotps. he needed time to process, to fuck up, to realize what's important to him, to decide to fight for it. and he is fighting for it, now. he is fighting for her. it's a journey, and you don't go straight from beginning to end; you gotta make some pit stops along the way.

[peakyswritings]

Sham | Tommy Shelby x OC

Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Final Part

Summary: Whatever they had before France was over the moment he stepped on that train. Whatever they had after Grace left for New York was consolation. And their marriage was a sham.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, mentions of death, smoking, cursing, this is pure angst

A/N: hi! This is my first fic with a OC, I’m thinking about making a series with her and explore her dynamic with Tommy, let me know what you think! Also, feel free to picture her as you wish, I haven’t made a description (I still don’t know if I’m ever going to describe her to be honest)

The gif is not mine, credits to the owner

Helen stood by the door of her husband’s office. Just like every time she found herself in that room, her gaze was captured by Grace’s giant portrait.

The dim light of the fire ominously illuminated it, creating shadows on her face. There was something sinister in her eyes, in the way her lips were slightly turned upwards. It was almost like she was mocking her.

That portrait gave her chills. She looked away, resting her eyes on her husband.

Tommy sat behind his desk with his legs stretched forward, his head resting against the back of the chair as he smoked a cigarette. He wasn’t even looking at her.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Places.”

“How strange.”

He gave her a dirty look. “I’m not in the mood, Helen.”

She entered the room, closing the door behind her. Even though she couldn’t see them, she knew the maids were listening. They always listened.

“It’s 3:00am, Thomas. I haven’t heard from you all day. Where were you?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“I’m your wife.”

“My wife. Helen Shelby.” He turned his head to look at her. “You like how it sounds, don’t you?”

She blinked, not quite sure about where that conversation was going.

“After all, this is what you wanted, right?” He scoffed, his eyes as cold as ice. “This is all that you’ve always wanted.” He slowly repeated, shaking his head as a sneering grin made its way on his face.

He took his time to get up from the chair and take one last drag before putting out his cigarette. “You never got over the fact that I married Grace. And when she died, you saw the opportunity to replace her.”

Helen opened her mouth slightly to say something, but she couldn’t utter a sound.

“And now you’re playing the role of the worried little wife.”

They had had their fair share of fights, but that was entirely different. She would’ve never thought that he could be capable of such cruelty.

But his words didn’t only cause her pain. They hurt her pride. What was left of her pride, at least.

“Do you really think that this is what I wanted?” She blurted, face flushed with anger. “Do you really think that if I had had a choice, I would’ve chosen this? To marry a man who loves another woman, to take care of her son, to live in a house that’s not mine?”

Tommy sighed, lowering his head. “This is your house, Helen-”

“This is her house.” She shouted, not even letting him finish his sentence. “Everything here belongs to her, her photographs are everywhere, her things are everywhere. Even the nameplate on the door is hers. It says Mr and Mrs Shelby, but we both know who Mrs Shelby is.”

She paused, giving him the chance to say something. He didn’t. There was no point in denying what was before everyone’s eyes. He still mourned Grace. He still loved Grace. And as much as he cared about the woman in front of him, he couldn’t bring himself to let her in. To love her like she had always loved him. And now he was taking it out on Helen, when the only thing she was guilty of was not being her.

“You chose her. I’ve been by your side since we were kids. I was there when your mother died and when your father left, I was there when you came back from France, I was there when you messed with Billy Kimber, I was there when Grace betrayed you, and you fucking chose her.”

Tears filled Helen’s eyes, but she held them back. She would’ve never cried in front of him. She would’ve never cried over him, not again.

“She’s dead, Thomas, and I’m still competing with her. How can I win?” She asked him, her voice lowering to little more than a whisper as the anger gave way to exasperation.

She felt pathetic. Begging for a man’s love once again, feeling sorry for herself, wondering what made her so unlovable.

“Fuck, I stayed by your side even after you cheated on me with her, because you needed me as a friend.”

“You’re bringing this up now?” He scoffed, shaking his head.

He leaned over his desk, looking at her dead in the eyes. “It was your choice, you were free to leave.” He pointed his finger at her, keeping his voice low. “You just didn’t want to.”

“You asked me to marry you. You did it because you didn’t want to be alone, because you needed me. You told me that. So don’t act like it wasn’t an act of selfishness.”

“So I’m the selfish one and you didn’t want this marriage.” He sarcastically retorted, moving away from his desk.

Helen couldn’t recognise the man in front of her. She had seen him angry, but this time he was treating her like she was one of his enemies. He was showing no empathy, no mercy, no regard for her feelings. That Tommy was unfamiliar to her.

“You’re right. I knew that I was marrying a man who would never be able to love me. I did it for you, I put you first, again. I’ve given up on the chance to find someone that truly loves me, that doesn’t have to choose between me and another woman. A good man.” She emphasised, raising her eyebrows. “And I’ve given up on my happiness.”

She paused, shifting her gaze to the carpet under her feet. “Because I’ll never be happy with you.”

Her last sentence was nothing more than a whisper, but her words seemed to echo in the silent room. She had lied to herself for so long, telling herself that they just needed some time, that she would be happy, eventually. But in the back of her mind, she was well aware that she was fooling herself, and that consciousness was taking over day by day. Saying it out loud made it painfully true.

“How can you say that this is what I wanted?” She asked him, looking at him again.

A long silence fell between them. She shook her head, walking towards the door.

“Helen.”

She stopped, but she didn’t turn around.

“No good man would have married you. You know that.” He said, unable to keep his mouth shut.

He knew that he was hurting her, and he hated himself for that, but he couldn’t help it. A small part of him wanted to hold her in his arms, to tell her he was sorry, that he was going to do better. That part was all that was left from the boy that left for France. The other part of him, the bigger one, wanted her to feel the pain he was feeling in that moment. That part was the man he had become. He let it win. “This is the best you could ever have.”

She left the room without a word, closing the door behind her. She walked through the house without a precise direction, letting the tears she had been holding stream down her face.

Hanging on the wall upon the stairs, another portrait. Tommy, Grace and Charlie. She felt like a hand was ripping her heart out of her chest.

They were a family and she was nothing more than stranger.

The worst thing was the awareness of the fact that she was the cause of her own pain. She should’ve let him go when she realised he had fallen for the barmaid.

Whatever they had before France was over the moment he stepped on that train. Whatever they had after Grace left for New York was consolation.

And their marriage was a sham.

Grace was the love of his life. His love for her was so strong that he had even forgiven her betrayal, just like Helen had forgiven Tommy’s.

But she couldn’t blame him. It was not his fault if her love was unrequited. But was Helen to blame, if all that she had ever wanted was to have someone who loved her, no matter what?

Truth was, she didn’t want someone’s love. She wanted Tommy’s love, and that was something that she could never have. Romantically, at least.

She had even started to doubt his affection for her. Maybe he just wanted her around for his own benefit, because he knew that she would let him take anything he wanted from her. Just like he had let Grace take everything from him.

That’s what love does to people, she thought.

-

Tag list: @arwyn-the-cyrptic-bisexural @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy

[jbreenr]

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale × Reader

Summary: You wanted to meet Ransom's family, he wanted to make sure you'd never want it again.

Word count: 3k.

Warning: Poorly written smut (+18 only, please), public sex (prompt 11), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that, kids. be responsible), a bit of dirty talk, the Thrombeys being the Thrombeys. And I think that's it.

A/N: So, after finding out one of my stories was stolen an translated in Wattpad, I did not know if I should post this just yet but, what the hell? Let's do it. Anyway, this is for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817 's Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge so, happy belated birthday! Yaaay. 🥳 Hope you like this at least a little and that it's not as bad as my paranoid brain thinks it is. Also, I just love how the prompts fit perfectly together, don't you? As always, lack of vocabulary and grammatical mistakes abound. *apologizes in español*

Wheel results (just attaching evidence):

ᴹʸ ᵍⁱᶠ

Draining, tedious, exasperating. Those were some of the adjectives Ransom associated with Thrombey family reunions. He'd arrive late, have some sort of conversation with his grandfather and leave early to do whatever that took him away from that big house.

Today though, he had a reason to stay for more than half an hour.

If it was up to him, you two would have stayed at home, happy, relaxed, and most importantly, naked in his bed, having a more pleasant time than the one you were most likely about to have. 

He tried to persuade you. Of course he did! But your insistence and puppy eyes made it impossible for him to say no to your request. 

So, here you were, getting out of his car, cake in sweaty hands and an excited smile on your lips, an expression so different from Ransom's, who seemed to be ready to get back behind the wheel and drive straight to Canada.

He didn't knock; he simply opened the door and held it for you to enter. If the three floor house was imposing from the outside, you felt impressed by the inside. Extravagant sculptures, apparently expensive paintings and other kinds of pieces of art were scattered everywhere, telling you just how wealthy and eccentric Ransom's family were. 

“That's Harlan Thrombey! ” You exclaimed as you stood in front of the portrait of your forever favorite author holding a knife and a book.

“So?” Ransom asked, unconcerned.

You turned to him open-mouthed, the cake almost slipping off your palms as you went to playfully slap him in the arm.

“How come you are related to Harlan Thrombey and you didn't tell me?” Your question was more of a shock than an accusation.

The carefree gesture he did with his shoulders only accentuated his next words. “I did not think you would be interested in knowing.”

“I wouldn’t be interested?” Incredulity, flowing out of your lips. “He’s the best thriller author of all time! He’s like today’s Edgar Allan Poe!”

To say that you didn't believe him was an understatement. He knew for a fact that you liked Harlan Thrombey's books, just taking a look at the bookshelf in your apartment was proof enough of that.

“We call him grandpa here.” Said a femenine voice. A brunette walked in your direction, her pretty features hardening as she looked at your boyfriend. “Don't we, Hugh?”

He seemed to be ready to say something but decided not to. Instead he inhaled and placed his hand on your back.

“This is Y/N, the only reason I’m not telling you what you need to hear right now.”

Her eyes rolled in irritation and then turned to you. “I’m Meg. Let's introduce you to the rest of the family, shall we?.” And she dragged you to the room where more people were gathered together, discussing something, not before sending a deadly glare at Ransom.

Given the distance between you and him, you didn't listen to the heavy sigh he let out before waking behind.

“Everyone!” Meg called, making everyone leave whatever they were doing to look at her –and you, in consequence. “Meet Y/N, Hugh's new friend.” She then proceeded to introduce every single member of the family, including the housekeeper and the nurse, except for the grandfather, who apparently had a moment of inspiration and left them momentarily to put his ideas on paper.

None of them left their seat to go and shake your hand except for Meg's energetic mom, who hugged you and expressed how much she loved your coat even though it was soooo last season.

Sitting on a couch next to Ransom, you half expected someone to ask you about how you two met or how long had you been dating or what was it that you did for a living. Nothing. As fast as their attention was on you, it fell from you to their previous discussion.

You now understood why Ransom jokingly suggested deep cleaning the house instead of attending that reunion.

What you weren't aware of, Ransom thought, was that all of them were behaving wonderfully compared to previous times.

You didn't know if you felt more disappointed or uncomfortable. Ransom had left your side to go to the studio for a second and you had barely had any interaction with his family. All of them, dipped in their own matters to even notice your presence. 

Fran, the housekeeper, was kind enough to take the cake to the kitchen and offer you a glass of water, but after giving it to you, she disappeared along with Meg and the nurse. 

“So,” All at once, the room went quiet as Ransom's uncle spoke. “Have you read any of dad's books, Y/N?” Only until you heard your name was that your head snapped up.

“Oh, uhm… yeah. I'm a big fan.” Taken by surprise, you simply answered.

“Really? Which one have you read?”

And to that question, you felt suddenly included in the conversation since you had knowledge of the topic.

“I'm like fifty pages from finishing 'The Needle Game' and intrigue is eating me alive.” As you heard the excitement in your voice, you tried to compose yourself and said “Though 'Nick Of Time' is my favorite.” You smiled at him, hoping that your answer was a good one.

The woman that was introduced to you as Ransom's mother nodded as she licked her lips. The light of the fireplace, reflecting on her glasses as she moved her head up and down.

“Have you read 'Ultimatum' or 'Drop In The Pocket', dear?” Her tone was curious, but the look on her face said differently.

You responded anyway. “They're not bad. I feel like the ending of 'Drop In The Pocket' was a little vague and out of line but it can always be interpreted as an open ending so…” The change in their expressions told you that you had to add something else to that answer. Maybe it was not time for literature humor yet. “But I enjoyed both.”

She hummed and took her drink, detaching from the talk that continued with courtesy questions until it morphed into a heated discussion between Ransom's father and uncle, who would repeatedly ask for your opinion to back up his own.

The discomfort you felt, dispelled to be replaced by the disturbance of being bombarded with dozens of questions at a time, each louder than the other until they changed to a completely different topic to which you were occasionally included as a neutral point of view.

“She knows what she's talking about!” Said Richard at some point when you confirmed one of his arguments. “Thank you, dear.”

Ransom came back from his obligatory argument with his grandfather to find you nowhere to be seen. 

“She's using the bathroom.” Informed Jacob, who did not take his eyes off of his cellphone. 

Thinking that you went there to hide, he started his way to your potential direction until an overheard observation from his mother stopped him halfway through. 

“… Did you hear how she talked about dad's work? Oh, I assure you she won't make it to next week with Ransom.”

Her and Richard's backs were to him, both of them unaware that their son was listening to their share of opinions.

“And did you see her hands?” Joni joined the criticism contest. “She could use some moisturizer, I tell you.”

As usual, they ignored her attempt to fit in and kept going.

“I know it's contradictory to say this,” Richard paused, as to make his point clear. “But he could do better.”

Despite their whispering, Ransom heard every single word and was glad that you were not there to see what was about to happen… 

Ransom's words stuck on his throat when he saw you making your way out of the bathroom, fixing the skirt of your dress, with such niceness and warmth directed to him as you smiled, oblivious to the fact that the people you were trying to get to like you weren't going to. 

His parents were right. He could do better. He could determine to not see them ever again and it would be the best thing to happen to him… Besides you, obviously.

“What's wrong?” Your concern was evident, just as his annoyance was undeniable.

Cold hands caressed his cheeks and Ransom thought of going back to Joni and tell her to fuck off. Your touch was soft, comforting, and gave him the greatest idea he'd ever had.

“I want to show you something.” Was his answer. It was better if you were the one who decided to never step on that house for the rest of your lives. It didn't matter if it was out of embarrassment.

Taking your hand in his, he guided you up the stairs to the first landing. The creaking sound of the old structure, probably alerting everyone in the other room that you were going to the next floor.

“Are you okay?” The sweet giggle that you let out when he abruptly stopped, almost making him feel bad about what he was seconds away from doing. 

“Better than ever.” And he stamped his lips to yours. 

Taken aback, it took you a second to respond. Hands on each side of his face as his own explored your body. When his fingers lifted your dress to caress your ass cheeks was when you ended the kiss. 

“What are you doing?” You asked in a breathless whisper. “Not that I'm complaining.”

You were cornered against the wall with Ransom towering in front of your smaller frame.

Trying to escape from whatever he had in mind was useless, you knew that much. Though, you were not sure if you really wanted to escape.

“What I've been wanting to do ever since you got a shower without me this morning.” His lips found your jaw and descended to your neck where he sucked to create a bruise. Your eyes closed to the sensation.

“Wait. No, wait.” His fingertip that had started rubbing your still clothed bud paused it's motions as his eyes focused back on your face. “We can't do it. Not here.”

Ransom's finger went back to work, bringing a soft moan that you tried to suppress. “Why not? No one's gonna come here.” His other hand moved up your thigh to lift it. “Even if they did, they wouldn't notice.”

With an expert swing of his wrist, he moved your panties aside, letting the cold air that wandered inside the house hit you before his skilled middle finger entered you while still managing to rub your clit in circles with his thumb.

Adrenaline ran through your veins, fuel activating every nerve in your body and shaking away fear from your brain, replacing it with lust and boldness.

“I'm blaming you if we get caught.” Your hips jolted forward wanting to feel more of his hand, the contradiction between your words and actions, making him smirk.

He added a second finger. Knuckles deep and his cold ring slowly warming against the inside of your thigh, he said, “I'll take responsibility, sweetheart.” Pumping his fingers in and out, he felt your slick running down the back of his hand to his wrist, wetting his overly expensive watch and the cuff of his cozy sweater .“But I can't assure you we won't get caught.”

His words, instead of working as a bucket of cold water as one would expect, increased your need to be touched by him, the yearning for him to take you right there and then. 

“Damn it, Ransom.” One of your hands flew to his shoulder to hold onto him for dear life. “I'm close.”

“You're not cumming unless I'm inside you, pretty thing.” At what point did he unfasten his belt and unzipped his trousers, you had no idea. The friction of his digits was gone in a second but the feeling of his already leaking tip rubbing against your most sensitive parts was enough to make you forget about those trifles.

Your lips opened, ready to tell him to keep his voice down when he suddenly thrusted home, stretching you out so deliciously that you had to cover your mouth to muffle the moan that threatened to inform everyone of your current activities.

Ransom's breathing hitched. Being inside you was a dream come true, feeling your walls enveloping his cock so fucking good… it was like you were made for each other, and he was going to prove it, even if his family didn't really get to know.

His hips started moving. Back and forth, back and forth. Delicately at first, letting you adjust to his size but the second he felt you throbbing around him, he increased the pace. Little by little his pounds gained power and energy.

Your whimpers –stuck in your throat, leaving only soft snuffles that crashed against Ransom's cheek, soon became more rapid, erratic and as his fingers dug in the flesh of your thigh to keep you still while he accommodated to go even deeper you heard a creaking noise.

Your boyfriend's blue eyes met yours, his movements never faltering despite the alert given by the dark wooden floor under your feet.

There was a conflict in your head, and Ransom could tell. The way you tightened and the pleading look on your face told different stories, yet Ransom knew they had the same ending.

Shaking your head, your eyes asked him not to do it, but you knew Ransom well enough to be sure that not even begging could stop him. 

“You love it, don't you?” His smile grew bigger as his change of position allowed him to hit your sweet spot on and on, ripping high pitched whines from you and obligating you to close your eyes. “The thought of getting caught. The image of someone seeing how good I make you feel.” The placement of his foot, making the landing creak repeatedly each time he pushed up accompanying every word. “Fuck, you're talking me so well. Such a dirty girl, uh.”

His big hand yanked the strap of your dress down, exposing your left boob. Your already hard nipple was soon attacked by Ransom's fingertips. He'd pinch and twist it slightly, just enough to make your back arch in search of his touch.

Pleasure was overflowing your senses, you could feel your heart thudding in your ears and your legs losing strength. Your hand left your mouth to grip at the back of Ransom's neck to keep you from falling.

The sight of your lower lip trapped between your teeth didn't please Ransom. In other circumstances, he would've let you stay that way, as quiet as possible so no one would walk on you. This time though, it was his intention to rip the most delicious sounds from your lips so you thought of the possibility of his family listening.

And so, he lent to kiss you, passion and desire transmitted through his breath. His tongue asked for a permission that was not really required, but as you let it in, Ransom took the opportunity to bite down your lip.

With your lips forcefully parted and Ransom's restless hand traveling back to your bundle, you had no other option than to moan with each quick circle his digits drew.

A series of laughs and undistinguished words were heard from a distance. Both Ransom and you turned to see what they were about, stopping in your tracks with him still buried deep inside your needy cunt.

“Guess dinner's ready.” Unbothered about the information he just gave, he hid his face in the crook of your neck and resumed his movements.

A shaky oh, fuck fell from your lips as you felt the familiar knot in your stomach forming. Your head flew back, hitting the wall with a soft thud. 

“Careful. We don't want to be obvious, do we?” You knew you were about to explode, and by the way your walls were clenching and your trembling body tried to separate from him, Ransom knew as well. “Let go, sweetheart.” A roar erupted from him as he felt you tightening around his length. “Cum for me.”

With a last, powerful thrust of his hips, you let out a silent scream. The coil snapped, making you see a kaleidoscope of colors behind your eyelids and listen to a loud ring in your ears. 

Ransom followed right after, cursing as he finished inside of you, coating you with every last drop and making sure everything would stay there.

He slid out, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness as he zipped his trousers and took a step back to let you fix your appearance.

You managed to accommodate your dress just in time for Ransom's family to walk out of the room they were in to see you. Your agitated breathing and blushed cheeks, getting everyone's attention. 

“Are you okay, dear?” Ransom's dad asked.

“She's fine.” Your boyfriend answered for you. “She's feeling a little sick. I better take her home.” He took you by the hand and helped you down the stairs to the door, which you thanked. Had he not done it, you would have tripped taking the first step.

“But she hasn't met grandpa yet.” Meg noted, furrowing her brows.

“It'll be next time.” And with that, Ransom took you out of the house and in the passenger seat of his car without giving anyone the chance to say goodbye.

When you were at a considerable distance, you sighed, letting out the air you didn't know you were holding.

“Just so you know, there won't be a next time.” You informed him, against your want to meet his grandfather.

“Why not?” He asked with a chuckle, already knowing the answer. 

“Cause embarrassment won't let me come back in the near future.”

Behind an eye roll and a tap on your thigh, Ransom hid the triumphant grimace his perfectly carried out plan gave him.

[beigehearts]

mmm this does intrigue me... A LOT I love the crazy hillbilly vibes fem!reader

CW: corpses(very descriptive!), blood, kidnapping, puking

It's an early morning, and the dew on the grass shines when the sun hits is. Mother is helping the servants make breakfast and father has gone into town for work. It's not often that you wake up so early, and you would like to enjoy your time outside. Mother does not like when you wander around outside because you always come back with the hem of your dress dirty and tattered. In order to avoid the wrath of your mother, you put on some pants that one of the stable boys let you borrow. Oh but if mother ever saw you in pants when not riding, then you would have to pray for your life.

You lay down in the damp grass, trees providing some shade, but sun still covering your body. It's a beautiful day, you think you may go horse back riding later. Your favorite horse, Tim Tam, would be excited to see you.

Wind blows, rustling the grass around you, sending a chill up your spine. You can just barely see your house in the distance, you walked quite a ways.

The sound of a horse clopping nears, stomping in the grass and surely leaving tracks. You sit up and look around, but can't find the source of the sound. One of the stable boys must have taken a horse out for exercise. Without warning, a horse leaps out of the trees, it rears in front of you and lets out a bellowing neigh. You gasp and scatter backwards.

The horse brings it's hooves down with a loud 'thump'. A man sits atop the horse, tall and intimidating. He dawns dark clothing, between farm clothes and noblemen clothes. There is no other way to explain it. His hair is tied up in a pony tail, and it is quite long. But that's not what catches your attention. It's his eyes. Dark and hollow, endless, hypnotizing.

You clear your throat and stand up, patting the dirt off of your pants. "Hello sir, what brings you around here?"

His voice is flat, monotone, and unchanging. "Get on."

"Excuse me?" You ask, completely baffled.

This scene reminds you of an old story your mother told you. Somewhere in Greece there are two gods, a dark one taking the woman who is amongst the flowers.

He seems angry, only slightly furrowing his brows. It's his eyes that tell you he's frustrated. He leans down, and grabs you by your bicep, gripping it tightly.

"Hey! That hurts!" You yelp out.

There's no time to react when he yanks you from the ground, seating you in front of him on the saddle.

"What are doing?!" You exclaim, unable to move with one of his arms holding you against him. He digs his stirrup into the side of his horse, and with one hand holding the reigns, rushes off.

No matter all of your screaming and crying, there is no escape or answers. Eventually your throat is raw from the yelling, and you fall silent. It feels as if you speak that blood would fill your mouth. Soon enough, a fence comes into view. Beyond the fence you can barely make out a farm house across from the acres of fields. The horse jumps the fence, and trots contently towards the house. As you get closer, you realize just how big this house is. It must be three times as big as your own house. There's a barn to the side of it, it's doors wide open, but it seems that there are no animals inside.

A servant is waiting outside of the house, and when the both of you dismount the horse, he leads it to some stables. The man who abducted you grips your wrist tightly, enough that you know there will be bruises. He remains quiet, and you do the same. The doors are grand, and he pushes through them. He leads you through the foyer and to what must be the Great Chamber of the house. Sitting in a love seat with a round wooden table in front of her, is a tall woman dawning a fascinator, and an elegant dress.

Without turning to look at you she says, "I see you obtained her Illumi. The servants are waiting in her room." So his name is Illumi?

"Thank you mother." He returns.

He leads you up excessively tall stairs and down a hall to a door with locks on the outside of it. He pushes you inside and locks the door behind you.

In the room there are three women, standing in a line with their heads bowed. "Welcome my lady." Says the woman in the middle. The woman to the left follows, "We are to wash and dress you." The woman on the right adds, "Please allow us to do so."

Soon enough, you're sitting on a chair in the nude, the women using cloths on your body. They dip them into the bucket with soapy water, and rubs the cloth up and down your body. You're dressed in under garments, and then in a round gown. Your face is covered with powder, some light lip balm rubbed against your lips, giving them a rosy tint. Lastly, your hair is styled in a way that it never has been, it takes two hours.

It's dark by the time the women unlock the door and leave. You wander around the room, examining the furniture. The curtains are drawn, so you look outside. It's hard to see anything in the dark, the light from the barn being just bright enough to see in the distance. There's a thump from below you, and you peer down closer to the house. Someone is dragging something off of the deck, but as they get further away from the house, you are unable to see them.

If being abducted weren't enough evidence, there is definitely something wrong here. When you try to speak, all that comes out are quiet whimpers and squeals. It's painful to the point you wish you had never tried to speak.

You realize that the bedroom door is cracked, leading to the dark hallway. You make your way over to the door and peek your head out, looking both ways down the hall. It's almost pitch black, the only light from a window, shining bright moonlight. You step out and find yourself wandering to the end of the long hall. A room with two doors which are wide open presents itself. A man sits on the unusually large bed, examining your every move.

He calls out to you in the darkness, "Come in. I don't bite."

You tip toe towards him, standing in front of the bed where he sits. He's large, the moonlight reveals his muscles, and glowing blue eyes. "You will make a wonderful wife." He leans forwards, and pets your face, holding your chin in his hand.

"So strong, so smart. Yes, a wonderful wife for my son." He says. You would protest but there is no way you could produce sounds from your mouth. These people are fucking crazy. "Go on now, explore your new home."

You happily do as he says, pulling your face away from his hand and scurrying out into the hall, and down the stairs. Have these people not heard about candles? They have servants, so they must be able to illuminate their house.

The house is eerily still, the air stiff. The front door, you'll go out pf the front door. But you have a feeling if you try to escape there will be someone on guard.

You push through the heavy doors, needing to put all of your weight and strength in order to open it. The door slams behind you, and you let out a sigh, wiping sweat off of your forehead. Yes, they are neurotic.

This is where you saw the person below you dragging something. There's a path in the grass where something has been pulled through. It's flattened it, leading far away.

You pick up your dress, stepping down the stairs and following the path. Eventually your arms get tired and you drop your dress to the ground, allowing it to be tainted. Your feet begin to hurt as well, so you pull off your shoes and carry them. The grass is wet, and makes a gross squelching sound when your feet meets the ground.

Soon enough a light can be seen, it's the barn. The path leads directly to the barn. Your dress is muddy, the beautiful peach color having turned into a gross black and brown color at the hems.

Your heart begins to pound as you begin to near the wooden structure. You debate turning around and going back to the house, or even trying to escape... but something compels you to continue.

The doors are shut, before they were wide open. Once you step onto the concrete in front of the doors, you wipe your feet on it. Trying to get the gross muddy feeling off, not accomplishing this. You take a moment to gather yourself, and grab the handles of one of the barn doors. Similarly to the house, the door is just as heavy. Your feet scrape against the ground as you pull on the door, causing them to bleed. Quickly you slip inside the door before it shuts on you. Your feet sting and your hands burn from the effort.

It stinks, it smells absolutely rancid. It smells like rotting bodi-...

Humans. Corpses. They hang from the ceiling upside down, being drained of their blood as farmers do with chickens. The ground is covered in blood, a puddle of it that you could swim in. Some people are pinned against boards or walls, just as Jesus was. There's a large bin in the back where bodies are piled into, hands and feet and legs and arms hanging out of it.

The smell is overwhelming. The sight is overwhelming. You fall to your knees and hang your head back, looking at all the nude corpses. Mortifying. Their faces seem to hang off of their head, as if they're melting. Well, those of them that still have faces. Some are blue and purple, some are missing arms. There arms hanging down from the bodies, as if reaching out to someone for help.

Who could do such a thing. What man would do such a horrible thing. You fall forward, holding yourself up on all fours. There's a pile of hair underneath you, and can feel the bile rising in your throat. You can't help it, everything you've eaten in the past week comes pouring out. But at least it smells better than the bodies.

A hand pats your back, and weakly you turn your head to look up. There, 'Illumi' stands, watching you with emotionless eyes.

He looks at the travesty in front of him and back at you. "It would have been best that you stay in the house." He walks forward, and reaches out, touching the hand of one of the hanging corpses. He grips the hand and rips it off of the body, but there's no blood left in that body to come out. It's bloated and diseased, but he throws it into the bin of bodies.

"Go to bed. I will send breakfast and medicinal herbs to your room in the morning." Before waiting for an answer or a reaction, he leaves, leaving you leaning over your own puke.

You would stuff your face in the puke if that meant not smelling the rot anymore. Instead you hurry out of the barn and collapse on the concrete. 'Oh god, oh god please spare me' repeats in your head. It can only get better, right?

[writingpuddle]

The other night best friend and I (yes, that best friend) were riffing on trans Neil headcanons over the phone, but a realistic trans treatment of aftg gets dark real fast, so without further ado:

~The Mafia May Be Sexist (But It’s Not Transphobic!) AU ~

(tmmbsbintau, if you will)

Does this premise make sense? No, but if Nora can write about made up mafia sports, I can write a nonsense AU where transphobia doesn’t exist okay this is my party and ill be self-indulgent if i want to

We open with baby Neil, who was named after his maternal grandmother or smthg idk

Now lets say Neil is one of those “I always knew I was trans” kids

So even at a fairly young age he was like, nope this is wrong

For the most part his dad basically ignores him (what use is a girl to me???) but if he makes the mistake of getting in the way it’s the usual shit with knives and hot irons and basically Neil’s bog-standard Traumatic Childhood

His mom signs him up to play Exy to get him out of the house, and he loves it, because of course he does

Now tiny Neil may be terrified of his father

But remember transphobia isn’t real

So he when he’s about ten years old he tells his parents over dinner

His mom just puts her fork down and says that’s alright

But Nathan

Nathan

Nathan’s eyes start to glow

He has a son? Not a useless daughter?

He’s practically levitating with glee

And Neil, poor Neil, who has never had any positive reinforcement—from either parent, Mary, you’re not innocent in this—he soaks it up

Nathan puts both hands on his son’s—his son’s!—shoulders and dubs him Nathaniel

His son, his heir, his legacy

Mary takes one look at the possessive look in her husband’s eyes and thinks oh hell no

For the next few days Nathan absolutely showers Nathaniel with affection

He takes him to the hairdresser and buys him a whole new wardrobe, neglecting his mafia duties in order to dote upon his new son

It is possibly the happiest week of Nathaniel’s life

And then he wakes up in the night with his mother’s hand on his mouth and is given less than a minute to pack his things

Now he’s grown up in a criminal household; the notion of making a run for it isn’t exactly foreign to him

But it’s not until they’re in the car that Nathaniel realizes that his father is nowhere to be seen

Where’s dad? He asks

Shut up, his mother hisses, and slams the car into gear

From then on, he is never Nathaniel

His mother is 100% on board with his transition, but…not really anything beyond that

After all, people will be looking for a woman and a trans boy, which means Mary’s investment in Neil’s gender pretty much starts and ends with him passing as cis

She gets him all the medical treatments he needs (on the black market, since they’re on the run)—puberty blockers when he’s younger, testosterone when he’s older

But he’s never allowed to acknowledge being trans whatsoever

Not to his classmates, not to his teachers

He never gets the chance to have a queer community, or explore the nuances of his gender, because the only presentation they can afford for him to have is Masculine Cis Boy. The restriction is stifling. It’s suffocating.

Neil hates her for it

His life was, so briefly, perfect

He had his father’s love and approval for a day, a week, and he is both old enough to remember his father’s cruelty and young enough to believe that it could end

Nathan is incandescent

When he realizes what Mary has done he goes to the Moriyamas in a storm of fury

She stole my SON! He bellows

Now the Moriyama’s didn’t particularly care about Neil back when they thought he was a girl

Girls in the mafia are basically just for child-rearing, so he wasn’t a threat

So once they figure out what Nathan is talking about (this takes a sec, owing to Nathan having not previously gotten around to telling them about Nathaniel’s revelation), their first thought is that look, we might do the nepotism thing here in our family, but underlings don’t get to do the nepotism thing. Sorry, them’s the breaks

Obviously, Mary has to die—nobody’s disputing that, a woman who robbed her husband and stole his son? Only death will right that wrong—but Kengo tells Nathan that he’ll help find Nathaniel on the condition that he’s given to the Ravens upon capture

Nathan is utterly confident that his son—his son!—will perform admirably. He accepts the deal without a second thought

So they’re on the run for years and years, and Neil’s resentment towards his mother festers, but he never acts out too much, and he doesn’t contact his father

He almost does a couple times, but then he presses his hand to the iron scar on his shoulder and he can’t quite make himself go through with it

He’s sixteen when Nathan catches up with them in Seattle

There’s a shootout and Mary and Neil almost get away

But

Nathan arrives

Nathaniel! He shouts. My boy!

And Neil lurches to a stop

There is his father, walking towards him, his eyes still shining with the same fierce love and pride from when he was ten

Nathaniel, his father says. Hasn’t this gone on long enough?

Come home.

Mary is trying to drag Neil away, but he’s too fixated on his father

Can I? Neil asks. Can I really?

Of course, Nathan says. Everything is forgiven. I’ve even secured you a place on the Ravens. Didn’t you always love Exy? Come home with me, Nathaniel

Neil can barely believe it. His father is offering him everything he ever wanted. His mother has been keeping him from this, his whole life?

Why would they run?

And through this whole exchange Nathan has been getting closer, and Mary is pulling Neil back, and now he’s close enough to touch and the sound she makes is like something physical tears when she finally releases Neil and tries to flee

She isn’t fast enough

Nathan’s grin is as wide as the sun when his cleaver bites into Mary’s waist

Blood pours out

Neil screams

Mary clutches her side, staggering away, but it’s obvious she won’t make it far

Dad, no, Neil says. Don’t—

Shh, his father says. Don’t be afraid. She kept us apart all these years. She deserves to die.

And Neil—

Neil has hated his mother for most of his life

But he looks at the woman who has struggled so long to protect him—who has failed as often as she succeeded, but who fought anyway, everyday—and the man whose eyes are bright with glee at her pain

And he makes a choice

He only has a split second to see the betrayal in his father’s eyes before the pipe in his hand slams into his head and he pitches forward, unconscious

Neil does not wait to see if he survives

He grabs his mother and they run, her arm locked on his shoulder and her palm pressed to the wound on her side

Neil puts her in the passenger seat and jumps in, throwing the car in gear

You need a hospital, he says, frantic

No, she hisses, pinning a towel to her side. No hospitals

Guilt floods through him as he looks at her pale face

Sticky red handprints smear on everything she touches

I’m sorry, mom, he says, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—

Enough, she says. Drive

He drives

He drives, and drives, and he follows her instructions, and later he wouldn’t have been able to say if he actually thought she would survive; he believed it, because he had to, because he had never been without her; he knew better, because gut wounds are slow, but they are inexorable

He parks on the beach and there are tears pushing at his eyelids but he chokes them down

I’m sorry, he said, I never should have believed him. I’m sorry—

You never would have been enough for him, she says, and Neil flinches

Her hand finds his chin and she yanks him down to meet her eyes, her gaze fierce.

He never loved you, she says. He would have made you in his image, and when you failed he would have torn you apart. I would not—I would not watch him try to make my son a monster. Don’t—don’t waste it

Mom, what are you saying—

Promise me, she says

Promise you won’t go back to him

She is dying

Neil can’t refuse

He promises

She releases his face and her red fingerprints on his face burn like brands. He can feel them hours after the tears wash the blood away.

Her last few breaths are jagged as broken stones before she rattles to a stop, and Neil is alone

He burns her body and staggers out onto the road and he keeps moving, he keeps moving, because he knows if he stops he’ll shatter

His hesitation has cost him his mother’s life

But his action costs him his fathers love

In one blow, Neil broke the golden image Nathan had of his perfect son, and now all Nathan wants is to destroy him

He finds his way to Millport almost on instinct alone

He finds one of Mary’s contacts who can supply him with the hormones he needs to continue passing and squats in an empty house and speaks to none of his classmates

When the Exy team tryouts are announced, he goes, intending to only watch from a distance

Perhaps it is inevitable he’s sucked in

There is so little light in his life

Can he be forgiven for wanting one little spark?

The Foxes come for him in May, and Kevin doesn’t recognize him, because how would he? Even if they met as kids, Kevin never saw Neil post-transition

Wymack ends up telling him something about Kevin’s past and the truth about the Ravens, and Neil pales a little bit, remembering how his father had said he’d gotten Neil a place on their line-up and finally understanding why

And sometimes he looks at Kevin with blinding jealousy for the life Neil didn’t get to have, and sometimes he sees him nearly comatose with fear and drinking vodka like it’s water, and his stomach hurts thinking how cheerfully his father would have consigned him to the same fate

So canon proceeds and Neil still bitches Riko out on live TV, and Riko still manages to acquire Neil’s fingerprints

And would you believe that? The Foxes mouthy new rookie is [deadname], Nathan Wesninski’s brat?

Well, well, well

At the banquet Riko pokes and prods until Neil finally snaps, and as Dan drags the team away from the wreckage Jean grabs Neil’s arm and says, low and fast in French, You’ll meet with us later

Why the fuck would I do that? Neil demands

Because otherwise everyone will find out that the Butcher is your father

Neil can’t hide his flinch and Kevin’s eyes go wide

They flee the scene, but before they even reach Coach, Kevin is already rounding on Neil

Is it true? He croaks

Not now, Neil says

But Kevin reads confirmation in Neil’s deflection

I didn’t know [deadname] had a brother, he says

Now here is the thing

Names are obviously a touchy subject with a lot of trans people, and certainly with Neil in particular

But with everything that just happened, Neil is a bit preoccupied, and it’s been a long time since he’s associated himself with that name

Since before he stopped using it, truthfully

And so his response is out of his mouth before he can even think twice

“Who?”

Kevin nods seriously, because he is wise to the ways of mafia bosses, and it’s not exactly shocking that Nathan Wesninski had a mistress and a secret second child, especially considering his first child had been a girl

It’s several moments before Neil puts two and two together and realizes that he has inadvertently slipped through a perfect loophole

He’s failed his mother so many times, but at least this secret is still safe, and he clings to that

Neil’s gender doesn’t really affect his interpersonal relationships with the Foxes—he’s already changing out separately, so this isn’t even a whole other thing

It’s harder to hide his testosterone when he’s living in shared dorms, but he has everything in the safe and figures out the safest schedule to open it up when he’s sure Matt will be in class

Andrew finds out when they start hooking up

But remember transphobia isn’t real so it’s sort of more like Andrew goes to undo his pants and is like wait your dick is removeable? Okay.

And then he just gets on with it

So Binghamton and Baltimore happen as canon, and if Neil had ever harboured hopes that his father would forgive him and love him again, they’re broken for good when his father stalks in and sees him shivering and just grins

It is the smile of someone who has torn someone off a pedestal and is going to enjoy reducing them to dust

Nevermind that Nathan had been the one to put him on that pedestal in the first place

Stuart deus-ex-machinas us out of the maws of death and we end up back in that classic Baltimore scene with the Foxes, and they still claim him, and they still take him home

He tells them all about his mafia father and life on the run, and it doesn’t really click until later that he forgot to mention the trans thing

Not like he, you know, has to tell them, and being trans is hardly an issue in Exy since it’s co-ed, but it would probably be nice to see a real doctor instead of keep buying his hormones illegally

And moreover, he wants the Foxes to know him

So they hit the cabin in the mountains and everyone knows Neil doesn’t drink, but when Andrew pours him a shot, he takes it

Ooh, Nicky says, Is Neil about to start spilling his secrets?

Allison snorts. What secrets does he have left?

Uh, Neil says

Wait, Allison says. There’s more secrets????

Yeah, he says. Um, I’m trans

There’s a pause

Well, that’s no good, Allison said. We didn’t have a bet going on that

Everyone laughs, and Neil smiles, and he looks at the sunset and remembers his mother, and he remembers a life filled with hiding, and secrets, and loneliness

Bats swoop in the twilight beyond the cabin, and he turns towards the warmth and light inside, and he does not look back

[felassan]

Extended thoughts on the Dark Fortress preview pages [spoilers at link]

(Would I be an MJ if I did not do this? This post is under a cut due to spoilers.)

I like the preview pages a lot, I’m excited for release - roll on March 31. There’s a lot packed into just these limited pages, so I’m looking forwards to seeing the issue and its contents in their entirety. 

A flashback to the Battle of Ostagar all those years ago is the last thing I was expecting when coming to this comic and it hit me with a one-two of feelings and nostalgia. Up there just off-screen, the Hero of Ferelden and Alistair have just lit the beacon in the Tower of Ishal. In these panels, the rain, the lighting, the atmosphere - it’s surreal (not in a bad way) seeing these fateful events again, back where it all kinda began really, and that page does a good job of replicating that cutscene and the heavy feel of it in a different medium. It’s a nice touch seeing surprise/unsureness and even conflict on some of the soldiers’ faces as Loghain gives the order to retreat. A couple of them even seen disconcerted as they walk away (looking at one another in askance). I like this take on Ser Cauthrien, and I wonder if Aaron ever encountered Aveline, Wynne, Carver or non-mage Hawke at Ostagar before the battle...?

Loghain’s words “He must do what his honor compels him to do” almost feel like a bit of metacommentary, i.e. on Loghain’s character in addition to obviously being about Ser Aaron.

In-universe before now, there have been varying accounts of Ser Aaron’s experience at Ostagar. Did he miss the fight, did he kill two ogres, etc. Now we see the truth of the matter is exactly as he told Vaea, which speaks of the trust and close relationship between the two. I’m not going to lie, the “I am coming my king” and subsequent panels make me cry on this re-read. Aaron reaching out for Cailan in his sleep with his other fist clenched, jerking awake from a nightmare in a cold sweat.. Aaron is so brave, he was the sole or one of the few soldiers in Loghain’s company to make this kind of stand (and you can see that there was a moment when he did turn to leave and considered it before turning back), and these panels convey the extent of the trauma that he experienced on the field of battle that day. I’m positive that in panel 2 here, it’s the exact moment when he sees Cailan die. It also hurts to think that not far from there, Duncan is seeing the same thing. They’ve done a good job integrating the new characters’ pasts with previous canon events with things like these. It’s like, expanding on things, but without anything conflicting.

When Aaron reaches for his alcohol skin I’m pretty sure his hand is shaking. Vaea is so tender and understanding/supportive at this part and it’s a really poignant and soft moment for them.. Aaron’s nightmares are a regular occurrence it seems. I love her and their relationship so much.. keeping watch over him while he sleeps a bit away from the others and the fire. ;; Also Autumn’s ears here, she’s lying down but still listening to what’s going on with and between her people. ;;

Brief pause here: I always appreciate getting a good sense where different events are taking place in the additional media. Also we now have in-universe confirmation that in the timeline we’ve now reached 9:45, as opposed to only external word-of-god. Do you guys ever think about your Wardens and how it’s been 15 years for them?

Aaron is like a father to Vaea 😭

Fenris has two daggers now in addition to his twohanded sword. The better for ending Danarius’ bloodline my dear 🔪

Have they tweaked Fenris’ hairstyle a bit, compared to Blue Wraith? Possibly also his skintone and eyebrows, compared to Blue Wraith? (I find this kind of thing hard to tell. If I’m incorrect here please feel free to correct me.) He looks good in this preview.

Poor Francesca. Tessa is really kind at this part and it’s nice to see more moments like these between female characters (women supporting one another). It reminds me of the moment in a previous issue where Vaea hugs Francesca on the ground. Tessa makes a great point here that true strength isn’t necessarily being stoic and unemotional, it’s standing up for what you believe in and for the greater good, even at great personal cost. It’s not 'not crying' and hiding your sadness. That’s a nice message, and again, Fran has really grown on me.

I also think it speaks well of Fenris and his character development after all these years in-universe that he was looking for a way to help Aaron, then immediately thought to go speak to Francesca when she was upset to see if he could help her in turn.

hhh brooding silent Marius staring broodily and silently into the flames and not responding to Fenris’ attempt at making conversation tho, the gentle lampshading..  That’s so true to his character. These might be my favorite panels in the whole preview. Fenris’ dry wit and facial expressions, the general composition, Fenris peacing out like “ok bye ig” lmao. You also get the sense that Fenris is reeling a bit and feeling abandoned since Hawke and co split up. After trying to do something to help both Aaron and Fran above, he then tries to make conversation with Marius. He’s trying to lighten the mood but also to connect after being alone for some time. He has missed having a group around him, and I suspect this group with its varying troubles and issues reminds him a lot of Hawke and co. That both the humor aspect and this characterization comes through in these 3 panels is pretty brilliant.

We reach the titular dark fortress! If ever there was a fortress for a bad guy, huh? x) The narrow exposed causeway being the only approach is a smart line of defense, strategically. Also, the realization that this is where Fenris lived while he was a slave of Danarius’ :| It’s a horrible-looking place and will be full of bad memories for him.

If this is how stormy the Nocen Sea gets in places - well, it reminds me of the lore that in Thedas naval exploration beyond the known map has been historically limited by different factors like pirates, Qunari dreadnoughts, stormy seas and sea creatures etc.

Characters speaking their native languages in places is always a nice touch. Now we’ve heard “By the Maker!” in Orlesian.

Aspects of the style and architecture of the Tevinter buildings in this preview, like the window shapes and the red lights and stuff, echo or remind me of what we’ve seen of Minrathous in the most recent trailer and some of the recent pieces of concept art for the next game. Neat.

We have our name and identity for the mage on the cover! Tractus Danarius, bastard son of Danarius. Danarius fucked around huh. “Tractus” has a Latin root, fittingly for a Tevinter name. Its different meanings are quite interesting: being dragged, extracted, plundered, an anthem sung in some masses, an elongated area or abnormal passage... I wonder if one of them will come into play somehow, the name possibly having been chosen for a reason? I also wonder how young Tractus is relative to Fenris, and if their paths have ever crossed in the past.

Tractus makes his entrance with two elven slaves or servants in tow. Like on the cover, his eyes are red. The head of his staff is a red sphere, also. Can we assume a connection to red lyrium, then, given these factors and the villains’ interest in using red lyrium to power the sarcophagus? I would guess that as normal magic was required to make it work with blue lyrium, the thing required to make it work with red lyrium is blood magic? A blood magic ritual. My guess is that the thing Tractus shows Marquette and Nenealeus is probably a chained up dragon or similar, which they plan to sacrifice and use the blood/power derived from that to fuel the magic/ritual. This is considering blood as a theme in this setting, blood as a source of power mechanically and the dragon-like beast on one of the covers which has clearly at one point been shackled and collared. (Here’s some previous speculation about Dark Fortress based on the covers.)

Although Tractus’ relative youth and inexperience compared to Nenealeus comes across in these pages, I get the feeling that Nenealeus will regret talking down in this manner to Tractus later in the comic.

It seems Tractus paints his nails dark. His commitment to aesthetic I give 5/5 stars

Remember the fall of Ventus/Qarinus to the Antaam invasion in TN? The Antaam must be progressing through Tevinter if people fear that Neromenian may soon fall also.

I appreciate that everyone’s horse is different! It’s a nice touch. A lot of the time in media groups of people ride identical horses like they’re clones or automatons as opposed to actual creatures.

Tractus’ smile when he’s asking if they’re going to wait for Qintara to arrive is slightly manic, lol, he’s giving off “Are we there yet?” car journey energy here. The doorway in this panel - is that a portcullis-style door? It seems like it has spikes at the bottom which would sink into the floor, and that there’s some kind of mechanism running along the floor towards it. Presumably to contain the [dragon?]?

I forgot Nenealeus has a sword - I guess then he knows magic artforms similar to those of a Knight-Enchanter or Arcane Warrior. Also here, Marquette echoes the Executor in TN, with the sentiment that Qintara fell with Ventus. Nenealeus is then referencing Gaius, the impersonator Qintara, right? That’s interesting; Gaius’ true master was Fen’Harel, on whose behalf he accessed important information about the world. This means then [?] that some of the time when Gaius believed himself to be working on behalf of Fen’Harel, he was really being manipulated by Nenealeus. Poor Gaius, at different points Fen’Harel and Nenealeus were pulling his strings. Does Nenealeus’ manipulation refer to Gaius trading it away to House Danarius for information?

Marquette references the red lyrium idol, and suddenly my Dragon Age 4 ears are pricking the way Autumn’s do. x) He mentions that it makes weapons, referencing I assume Meredith’s lyrium sword, Certainty and the ritual blade that pops out from the base of the idol during The Dread Wolf Take You. I wonder when the events of this comic take place in relation to the stories related at the spy meeting in TDWTY? Is this before or after the events of the Mortalitasi’s tale? At any rate, Marquette voices something we’ve been obsessing over: what else can and does the idol do specifically, beyond just making weapons and being Ominous and Powerful? Because whatever it is, it’s key to Solas’ ongoing plans, and Solas obviously knows.

So it seems that the villains’ plan is to use the red lyrium idol’s sword part with the sarcophagus, red lyrium, a ritual and [the thing Tractus shows them in that panel - the dragon?] in order to transform Shirallas into, essentially, a Red Wraith, a Red Lyrium Fenris. And then to arm him, under Nenealeus’ control, with the sword.

Does Shirallas still have his vallaslin - is it just the lighting and the angle in that panel? Also, that panel with Shirallas and Nenealeus looks so ominous and foreboding 😭 .. (and reminds me somehow of Fenris and Danarius when Fenris was still his slave and bodyguard) Shirallas, we really are in it now 😭 This is a really cool panel btw, like the composition, the lighting, the dramatic-ness. 

Nenealeus is motivated by a desire to route the Antaam from Tevinter (like the mage in the Mortalitasi’s tale in TDWTY) and reconquer lost lands in order to restore the glory of the Imperium (which reminds me in a way of of Aurelian Titus, who also wanted to restore the Imperium to greatness). Classically Tevinter here.

“Danarius the Lesser” is a sick burn. I’d guess Tractus’ life thus far, as a bastard, has had themes and struggles with inferiority and consequent lack of power but desire for it (being disrespected, but craving respect, being connected to a certain world but not really part of it, in fact rejected by it). Venatori connection confirmed. That the Venatori had to be convinced to accept someone as a Danarius - implications for the role of the Venatori remnants and their role in Tevinter and things in general going forwards? Lightning flashes overhead as Tractus and Nenealeus have this face-off in that panel, emphasizing the tension between the two. I wonder what the magic in the fortress and in the courtyard can do? It’d have been no mean feat to escape from this place as a slave, it seems, especially bearing in mind there’s only one proper way out, that causeway (passage not included). Tractus’ staff-head lights up when he’s making a threat (uh-oh), and then wow! Shirallas moves so quickly, in the blink of an eye suddenly appearing out of nowhere and startling the guard-mage onlookers. He’s fast and formidable.

I wonder about Tractus. Is he a “half blood” because he’s a bastard and his mother wasn’t an Altus, or even wasn’t a mage, or because he’s a bastard and his mother was an elf? Or both?

Will we see a face-off between perrepataes (Marius and Shirallas)? Will Marius face-off against his former master, Nenealeus? Perhaps a showdown between the Blue Wraith and the “Red Wraith” is on the cards?

Back to our team in the tavern! There’s a looot of great character content packed into these pages, which is really cool. Each brief character interaction conveys a lot, and in general this sequence is just well-executed imo. How troubled and tired Aaron looks at the bar (my heart.. it hurts); Fran worrying for Aaron; Vaea knowing that she can’t pressure him too much because that’s just not how it works when it comes to folks who struggle with issues like these; Vaea asking after Fran’s wellbeing; Fran struggling to come to terms with what happened to her father; Fenris watching the door waiting for news (he’s so vigilant isn’t he? safety, an escape-route..); Marius Broods Harder; Vaea’s [relative] pacifism being highlighted; Vaea engaging Marius looking for reassurance; and the choice of having Marius break his silence now is meaningful and impactful in that it shows what happens when one becomes ‘numb’ to the constant murderizing of people, so to speak. Fenris then rightfully points out that becoming numb to killing and violence isn’t really a good thing and is worse, really, than being ‘soft’ or uncomfortable with it. I wonder if he’s speaking from experience here, given the hundreds of people Hawke and co kill their way through during the Kirkwall years, for example. Then Vaea’s concern for Aaron and his state of mind, and Fenris’ uncanny insight into that, of a man he’s only recently met.

Tessa looks so cute when she comes in the door! I love Vaea’s lil “:D” face when she sees her, and I wonder what the tavern food on the table is.

Those two panels, when Fenris talks about Hawke and Leandra, are the biggest emotional gut-punch in the preview pages 😭 omg.. I’m not strong enough for this.. bls... bruh... This is then compounded by (hitting me when I’m down!!) the look of sheer... fear, fury, alarm, upset, shock - that appears on Fenris’ face as soon as he hears “I found Danarius”. Seriously, look at his eyes here. He (understandably) still has a trauma-response associated with the name/man.

Bless Tessa. 

I have to say, it’s very Metal of Fenris that not only did he kill Danarius in DA2 (in those universes), but he has also been going around Tevinter since then killing all of Danarius’ [adult] heirs, and that his response to learning there’s still one remaining is to grab his sword and go to march off with the aim of ending the bloodline a second time. Very metal

I love the final panels in the preview as well! Vaea’s sense/smarts and how she wasn’t afraid to tell Fenris no, Autumn’s giant ears, how Autumn also moves with Vaea to step in front of Fenris to stop him (SHE! HELPED!!!), Autumn’s Happy Face and furiously wagging tail and agreement with Aaron, and Proud Dad Aaron rising from his slump to praise Vaea with the most Proudest Daddest expression that you ever did see...  ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )

[thekillingjoke-haha]

Beauty Sleep

Marvel and Supernatural bingo

Square:Sleeping Beauty

Castiel x Archangel!Reader

Warning?: Reader seems bad, Twist on Sleeping Beauty/Snow White, Poisoning, Wicked Father,ect.

A/n: [This text is a memory]

Tag: @thisismysecrethappyplace

The loud clap of a book dropping on the table startled the brothers for their own research. "What the hell,Cas." The eldest said more then likely woken up for his half sleep mind set. "I found it." He said as he pointed to the thick book.

"Found the weapon that can restore balance." He explained further causing them to grow intrigued. It was the weapon they were looking for that could keep Angels in heaven,demons in hell,and other supernatural in purgatory. The one thing that can fix everything."Perfect where do we get it?" Sam asked as he pulled the book three times thicker then the largest dictionary towards him. "Where do we find her you mean." Castiel said making the Winchester's look at him confused.

Dean cleared his throat and dragged his hand down his face. "Her? The weapon is a person?!" He asked. "Not exactly. She was the first Archangel made by both God and Amare. Legend has it she's more powerful then both of them she could create life with ease and equally wipe it without so much as a single thought. Because of this she had to be put to rest." The angel explained further.

"If she's so powerful how is she "put to rest" can't she wake herself up?" Dean asked as he looked over his brother's shoulder at the book. "Apparently her prison has hex symbols that takes away and returns her grace in a constant loop to keep her weak yet alive." The younger brother explained pointing out the drawing of the three symbols on the page. "So a real life sleeping beauty? Sweet! I always fit the role of prince charming ya know?" Dean said cockily posing victoriously.

The angel rolled his eyes. "There's a catch,Dean. It says once we break those symbols all of heaven and hell will feel it. The creations that she made will hunt her down...all things supernatural will come for her,but once she's back in full power she'll be able to cloak herself." Cas said as he paced slightly. If she was a powerful as legend had it she could fix it all for them. "Her creations? She made the monsters we hunt?! I thought that was Eve." Dean exclaimed as he ran a hand through his hair. "That's a common misconception the apple she ate gave he knowledge that only three beings knew. That special apple was made from her grace." That's when the angel paused as his words raked over him. "Her garden was never just a place it was her prison."

"The garden of Eden. What's this Angel's name?" Sam asked as he flipped through the book and tried to find a name,but all he saw was angel of light and darkness,the perfect balance. "God was nice enough to name it after her. Eden the first Archangel,but she's gone by many names before." He said.

Dean looked at the book with Sam. "Where do we find the magical garden? No book supernatural or not ever gave a location." The eldest asked and it was a good question. "The garden never stays in the same place for to long it moves often. One day it could be in a forest the next in a mountain." Cas said with a sigh it was impossible to find the prison with out a bit of her grace to track the source.

"Her grace is strong even a little can help us. Even if a millennia has gone by and it's became one with the elements it can help." Cas explained. "Cain" The name fell from Dean's lips as he numbly rubbed where the mark once was. "Cain is the son of Adam and Eve. Eve had that grace in her system she must have pasted it to him!" With that the boys packed up and were heading to Cains house to use him as a tracking device. The day long drive dragged on and with those time Sam continued to ask questions.

Most of the questions the angel had no answer to until one made him freeze up. "How did it happen in the first place? Was she casted out of heaven like Lucifer?" The younger Winchester asked. "I think Chuck poisoned her. She was like Lucifer she questioned a lot of things it was a new angelic trait, curiosity, except she loved all creatures and things Chuck made so when he makes something new she was the first to see and that was the last time any angel has seen her." The vivid memory came to mind.

The giggle of the young fledglings filled the air. A girl with H/c hair dragged a younger version of himself around. "My little raven come look! Father has created such beautiful things." She said as she showed him the flowers in her hand each different from the other. "What are they called?" He asked tilting his head. "Father said I can name them,but I can't think of anything...come help me plant them on earth there we can name them!" She said using her three pairs of large F/c wings to bring them to earth before humans were even thought about.

The soil on the ground was dark and it was vastly different from the sand surrounding it. With gentle hands she planted all of the flowers and together the angels named them. "Hmmm..." The girl hummed. "What is it Y/n?" He asked her. "We need something to keep them growing in numbers, raven." She said using a stick to draw on the dirt. "What should it look like?" Y/n asked him as she was going to go to her father to create it.

"Um...give it wings and make it the color of those sunflower over there." Castiel suggested. The drowning at took a couple tries,but as the kept adding and removing things they got what they wanted. Without realizing that the archangel just made multiple winged creatures on a whim and she wasn't even trying. God saw it all a d it scared him,but he couldn't do anything about it when his sister along with his other archangels would be there to stop him. He had to wait.

Three mil past and the two children grew bigger and she grew stronger. The small patch has turned into a garden of various plants that were only found in different climates around the world. Together they went there everyday even more often after the imprisonment of Amara and Lucifer along with the disappearance of Gabriel. Michael was busy trying to keep order after the two archangels left so it was his chance. Chuck called his daughter to see another one of his inventions,but that time was so much different from the others. Afterwards she didn't comeback she was never seen in heaven again and on that day a tree taller then any other in that garden with apples of pure gold grew.

The garden of Eden disappeared after Eve ate the forbidden fruit and it wasn't ever seen again by man,angel,nor demon knew of it location. Cas lost his friend and he knew it was god that did it even if he was suppose to be a loyal soldier he couldn't when he knew that the father of creation so willingly got rid of his most prized pupil what would he do to all the underlings.

Hours have past they stand in Cains living room. "Cain we don't need much from you just some of your blood that's all." Cas said as Dean explained what for. It took some convincing,but he agreed and bleed into a vile. "You guys better stop this apocalypse before shit hits the fan." He said as he shut them back out of his house. Sam handed the vile to Cas. "Now what do we do?" He asked the angel. Without saying a word he pulled something from his pocket a old looking compass. "Rowan taught me a location spell all I need to do is..." Pouring the small amount of blood on the glass of the compass and spoke in Latin causing the red substance to disappear. "...follow the arrow." Cas finished.

The arrow spinner rapidly as it settled on the strongest pull of the grace. "Looks like we're heading west. We have a estimated week before it changes course so off we go." Cas said as they all went back to the car. Keeping his eyes trained on it a small smile formed on his lips. "I'm coming N/n." He whispered to himself. Almost five thousand miles away a the unmoving body had a shocking pull of her lip at the mention of her name if only that could have woken her up for her comatose state.

It's been three days on the road and the impala had to come to a stop a thick treeline stopped them. The dirt road turned into a hiking trail and they had no choice,but to go on foot. Together they hiked up the trail blindly following the arrow through the woods. "Cas what are we suppose to be looked for?" Sam asked as he stepped over a fallen tree branch. "The closer we get the more exotic the plants and animals will be. Also be careful some of the wild life is experimental." The angel warned causing the brothers to freeze. "What do you me by experimental? Are we going to see a truducken?!" Dean asked jokingly as he looked around.

A loud snarling noise caused him to pull out his gun and look around. "More like human eating plants and venomous insects." This made Sam tense and stick closer to a still walking Castiel and Dean to cautiously does the same looking at each and every plant close by. "What is this fucking Jumanji?!?! Everything can kill us." Dean said keeping his gun up and ready to fire. "Oh, that was the name of the movie. Yeah those types of movies were based off of what explores experienced when getting to close to the garden." The blue eyed angel said with a shrug.

In a clearing they all look with widened eyes at the land before them. Flowers of all types with various animals and inserts. They watched in wander at everything creatures they've never seen or never insisted out of the garden. Everything was in bloom even though it was mid fall. There was a clear gravel path cutting off between the forest and wonderland in front of them.They wandered around since it became more difficult to find where the pull was unclear. "She won't be in plain sight she'll be hidden well. Look for something that doesn't quite match the rest. Trees of all kinds surrounded the area,but it was Sam who noticed the sand that mirrored a sky full of stars. He slowly followed it till it grew thick into a sanded path.

The youngest Winchester had his eyes trained down so when he looked up the apple tree before his eyes took his breath away. It looked straight out of a child's most imaginative fantasy. A white trunk with red leaves and the most noticeable feature the solid gold apples on it's branches. Sam didn't hear the voices of his brother or friend as he stepped closer directly under one of the low hanging fruits. Reaching up he picked the ripe fruit his brown eyes glazed over by temptation and curiosity. "SAM DON'T EAT THAT THAT!!!" Cas yelled using his grace to stop him mid bite. The angel looked in horror at the item in his hand a dark purple almost black apple sat in his friend's hands.

To anyone mortal it looked beautiful with it golden exterior,but Cas could see the ugly,fermented,poisoned inside. Glancing up the tree was rotting with barely any leaves and the few left were the color of blood. "It's poisoned their all poisoned." His words cleared the Winchester's vision of the tree and the surrounding woods all the plants were dead all around it. "It's beautiful on the outside,but deadly on the inside. And we're seeing it for what it truly is."

"It's clear as day that's she's here. Just how do we get to her?" Dean asked looking around. Castiel snapped towards Sam holding his hand out. "Do you still have the book?!" Sam nodded quickly taking the strap off his shoulder to dig it out of the bag. He handed it over the the angels that viciously flipped through the pages. "He made her a monster so a beast she became. She was blinded by curiosity and temptation she chose wrongly that day. Pick the fruit that doesn't call to you for the right one will choose you." He read word for word trying to see through the riddle. A beast? She was never a monster,but she was depicted as one. A angel that tainted the flock.

The Archangel landed gracefully in front of her father. She bowed on one knee as a warrior would clashed in her white armor and sword by her side. "Stand my child." She stood up looking at him. "Yes,father?" Her voice was gentle,but that didn't make the God of creation hesitate in his actions. "I've made something new for you to try and plant in the garden." Chuck said handing her the item. The skin was red and the surface was smooth unlike the peach that had a light fuzz. "What is this?!" Her e/c eyes burned bright her wings fluttering in excitement. "A red apple my dear." He said softly a smile on his lips stepping closer "Taste it."

Bringing it to her mouth she took a bite out of it and started to chew. It started of sweet,but became bitter within seconds and no matter how long she chewed it never broke down in size for long. "Father...something not right." She said that single bite still in her mouth. "Trial and error,darling, try to swallow it." Her h/c hair bobbed as she nodded. With a gulp she swallowed it down,but to her shock it stopped. Using her free hand she beaten at her chest to unblock her air way. Looking up at her creator she saw a look that can only be described as pure evil as a liquid poured out of her mouth.

Touching her chin a dark violet substance came dripped to the ground. Her gaze shifted to the apple within her hand and the inside no longer looked right. It was as if it gone bad from the inside,but the outside stayed fresh hiding the disgusting center. In fear she stepped back and with that she fell and continued to fall watching her home fade away. Y/n broke through the soil of the earth in a prison of her own design that she cared for and nurtured. Her arm dropped from her side the apple rolling away. The deceitful visibly harmless fruit planted it seed and grew becoming the only way to enter her personal mausoleum.

Castiel looked at the tree. All of the fruit looked the same nothing was different about a single one of them. Together the trio walked around the looming tree. The Winchester's saw something beautiful and they couldn't help,but want to pick one of the apples to taste. "What do we do,Cas. We don't have much time before this place disappear and possibly taking is with it." Dean said flinging his hands in the air. "The riddle said to wait then that's what we must do.

They grouped together and sat at the base of the tree waiting for who knows what to happen. "This is stupid! Let's just get the shovels from baby and start di–" His words were cut short as a apple full down from above them. "Well that was covenant." Sam said as Cas picked it up. To the brothers it looked odd a bronze color compared to the rest just less appealing. While to Castiel it looked horrible making the clearly deadly fruits more appetizing. "Our key in." He said. Using his hands to break it open to reveal the mouth watering interior that a honey like liquid dripped from,they picked correctly. The ground began to shake and they all stepped away from the base of the tree as the dirt around it caved in making a spiral staircase down and down they went.

It was pitch black down there so Sam and Dean pulled out flash lights to look around. They all went around the surprisingly large pocket in the ground. Dean checked for the symbols when he tripped over roots and landed on something hard and and moving. Snapping up he shined the light on the women laying as if sleeping in front of him. She was in white leather armor with a sliver sword in her hands on her chest. "Didn't find any hex symbols,but here's sleeping beauty." He said looking her over she rested on a raised stone that worked as her bed. "Never mind found them." The markings from the book in a pyramid shape was on one side of the bedrock glowing a soft F/c. Sam walked over along with Cas. The knifes both brothers held was used to break the engraved symbols,but nothing happened.

"No no no that's not right. Y/n is suppose to be freed!" The angel in distress said as he flicked through the book nothing else was said to be imprisoning her, why didn't it work? The Winchester's examined her the youngest looking at the elegant armor while the oldest focused more of the feminine features. "Sammy you read that book while in the car. Didn't you say something about her being the first female?" He asked his eyes not leaving her. "Yeah a model for Eve and later Amara's less celestial form. Why?" Sam asked touching the blade of the sword. "Yeah if that’s try why does she have a Adam's apple?"Cas wasn't fully paying attention until that sentence. His blue eyes imminently went to her throat were a noticeable lump was. "That wasn't there before." He mumbled loud enough for them to hear. Placing his ear just a centimetre away from her lips a shallow breath was let out and a wheezed inhale drew it back in.

The angel put his overlapping hands on her chest. He didn't know everything about humanity,but he knew enough to understand what he was about to do. He pushed with all his strength and he heard a sharp breath push out it just wasn't enough to dislodge whatever was there. Cas continued his actions and just when he was giving up hope she coughed up the chunk of apple and a weird substance. F/c glowing eyes snapped open as she lurched forward her grace burning bright casting a shadow behind her. It was a sight to see three sets of wings,what can only be described as a halo,along with twisted horns. After the grace calmed down her eyes returned to their normal color and they instantly when to Cas a wide smile spreading on her face. "My raven." She said. Y/n knew why she was awoken after all this time. To fight in a war she wanted no part of,but with the thought of putting everything in balance and striking down her father where he stood made her ready to fight. After all she felt like she's had enough Beauty Sleep.

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A/n: This one took a minute,but I was torn between sleeping beauty and snow white since both of them fall asleep so a mix of both.

Also post #69....Noice

[baby-grayson]

Kind Stranger| GBD

Word Count: 2.8k (teeny tiny) Trigger Warning: quarantine talk A/N: This is my first fic post ever! Please let me know what you think about this little teaser. Please please give me feedback about if I should keep going or if I can improve at all!!

The saltwater hit his tongue sharply. His body fell alongside his board in the water. While his feet met the ground again, he quickly scooped up the wayward board before it floated too far away. Arriving back on the shore, he dug the bottom of the board into the heavy, wet sand. He sat next to it, the tide kissing his feet and bare legs as it danced along the shore. He took a deep breath. He was at peace.

Grayson Dolan didn’t feel peace often: at least, not lately. The past two years had been one chaotic haze after another. Moving into a house in LA. Being on Fear Factor. Having his first stalker. Being there to watch his father pass. Starting a fragrance company. Erupting into a workaholic pattern of self-destruction to avoid dealing with the emotions of his father’s death. Announcing to his over 10million fans that he and Ethan had reached their last emotional string and needed to pursue a life that was happiest for them, including projects that pushed them as creators.

The creative projects were as scary and dizzying as they were exciting. He and Ethan traveled across the country in a custom van. They explored the Australian wilderness. They started a podcast with their friend, Ryan, to introduce the real, mature versions of themselves to the internet. Grayson had a small black notebook in his bottom left desk drawer with project ideas and timelines for the year.

But that notebook became pointless when the pandemic hit. He and Ethan were in the process of finding a new house after an incident with an unhealthily obsessed fan when the shelter in place orders hit. The first month was unstable; no one should have to move to a new house in the middle of a pandemic. But the craziness subsided eventually, Grayson and Ethan found a home to call their own for the first time in their lives. After living in close quarters during construction left them at each other’s throats, they found a rental in Malibu to live out the rest of their quarantine days. Periodically, the visited their mother in New Jersey.

Visiting New Jersey did not exactly follow the CDC guidelines. Grayson quelled the risk in his heart with the importance of his mother. If she wasn’t working and he and Ethan only ever saw each other, how dangerous could it really be? Besides, his mother needed him. After the death of his father, his mother was left alone in their house in rural New Jersey. She had nothing but the memories of buying the home, bringing home two twin baby boys, teaching her daughter how to ride a bike, and having tough conversations about her sons’ dreams… Yeah, she needed him. Grayson decided. Grayson still held guilt from not spending enough time with his mother after his father passed. He loved her more than anything, and in a deep place, a place so deep that he didn’t dare think on often, he would never forgive himself for not being there for her in the weeks following his father’s passing.

He thought of her often: like on this beach in Malibu. He thought of how she’d love to pull up a beach chair and enjoy a Mojito while soaking up the sun. The image almost made him chuckle. For a short second, he pictured Ethan and Cameron there with her. Cameron would pull up a beach chair next to their mother, blasting her latest musical obsession from a stereo. Ethan would try to surf, but eventually his more whimsical tendencies would give out and he’d try building the biggest sandcastle a 20-year-old man child could muster.

Grayson chuckled to himself, he buried his hands in the sand at his sides. He played with it in his palms, feeling the fine granules pass over his coarse skin. A thousand little diamonds slowly withering away at a firm and precise exterior. He was also reminded of his mother constantly telling him to exfoliate his callouses from building.

This was Grayson mid-pandemic. The mess of finding a house passed. The initial marvel of staying busy inside the house passed. Hell, even the wonder of cutting his home-grown mullet had passed. Now, he and Ethan traded turns being the more bored twin. Ethan had re-watched Stranger Things about 10 times by now. Grayson spent his days working out, following his regimented daily routine to soon reach a Planche Hold. Occasionally, one of them would reach a deeper state of boredom and go to bother the other twin. They would go to bed and rehearse the routine again the next day.

Unfortunately for Grayson, Ethan slept like the dead. His twin brother usually slept until 11:00 AM; the pandemic had pushed that to a firm 1:00PM. His brother’s sleeping beauty impression left Grayson with nearly half a day to himself. Grayson made a ritual out of going surfing. The beach was secluded enough to not require the precautionary thinking of masks and hygiene in a pandemic. It was just Grayson, his board, and the ocean. He spent his alone time thinking of the important people in his life. In some ways, this pandemic was almost a good thing for him. He spent last year moving too fast among emotions he was too immature to process on his own. This year the world forced him to move too slow in an attempt to let his mind and heart catch up to the rest of his life. His introspective moments on the sand and sea were his own to experience and process alone. Except today.

She looked down at him and smiled, “Good Morning”

His lips turned up softly, “Morning”

He watched as she walked away: a long, dark ponytail fluttering in the wind over a flowy, white sundress sundress with a small, leather purse hanging at her hip. Grayson leaned back on his palms when he noticed something. Her footprints weren’t even. In the sand, one foot was about two inches deeper than the other. He furrowed his brow, pondering it for a second before shaking his head. He dipped his hands in the water and wet his newly cropped haircut. He was seeing things, probably swallowing too much salt. He grabbed his board and headed up shore to his van.

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He wouldn’t have recognized her without the hair. The next day, he was paddling back to shore on his board when she walked by. He could make out her long, dark hair against the pale, sandy background. He squinted: not being able to tell if she was looking back at him. He smiled brightly and outwardly, just in case she could see him. His smile faded in a few seconds. what am I doing? He thought before padding back to shore to make his usually introspective campsite.

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The third day, he was firmly in deep thought about his next tattoo when she walked by. They made eye contact as they flashed each other warm, but polite, smiles. “Good Morning” “Good Morning”.

This secluded little beach not his own anymore. He shared it with a kind stranger. She was a silent reminder that the world continued to turn outside of his fast-paced, modern, social media based lifestyle. Okay he thought maybe I’m being a bit deep …but it’s nice to have someone else around I guess.  

Their routine played for two weeks. She would walk by Grayson, either as he was coming to land again or paddling his way back to shore. They exchanged greetings and smiles as they passed. By the time she turned around and walked back to her car again, Grayson was gone.  Sometimes she saw the imprint of him in the sand when he was gone and thought about him when he wasn’t there. For a few minutes, she would muse to herself about his name. Sterling? No too Disney. Lance? No too King Arthur. William? No too Royal Family.

Occasionally, Grayson would think back to her outside of his beach visits. Maybe he passed a girl with long, dark hair in the grocery store, or maybe he saw someone about her size on the other side of a parking lot, he would catch his breath quickly before realizing it wasn’t her. What would I even say? Are we friends? She probably doesn’t remember what I look like. Why do I care? That last one got him.

Why did he care? Sure, he thought, she was pretty. She seemed nice, well okay her Good Mornings sound nice…nicest he’d heard in a while considering the only other person who wished him a good morning was Ethan. Maybe that was just it, he was spending too much time by himself or with Ethan. Ethan and Grayson had been quarantined together for almost four months now. The only other people he had seen was his mother, sister, and friend Ryan. When you only speak to 4 other people face to face for four months, the girl on the beach was a contender for one of his closest friends. The thought settled well in his brain, rationalizing his anxieties about seeing her in public.

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About two weeks later, on a Tuesday morning, the sky was grey as the sun hid behind the clouds; the ocean water was unusually murky with dense foam. Grayson’s head must have been in the grey clouds because his usual surfing excursion left him tumbling around in the water more than usual. He started back for the shore earlier than usual, sensing that today was simply not his day. When the water reached his chest, Grayson started to walk upright in the water while dragging his board behind him. Not a few seconds later, he felt a sharp pain stab the outer edge of his left foot. “FUCK”, he swore out loud and gasped. The saltwater heightened the pain as he continued to trudge through the water.

He arrived on shore and noticed a jagged, long cut along the side of his right foot. The saltwater washed away the blood seeping through the wound: all that was left was a deep, slender slice taken out of the side of his foot. He tossed his board down, not bothering to dig it into the sand. He sat on the waters edge, trying to wash the sand out of the wound but wincing when the salt returned with its pointed sting. He groaned softly to himself.

I can’t walk back to the car like this, he thought to himself.

He threw his head back, frustrated with the situation. Frustrated with how he might have scratched his board on a rock from tossing it down. Frustrated from the deep wound spewing blood from his foot. Frustrated with his loneliness. Frustrated with the pandemic. Frustrated with his career. It all lead him here: sitting on a beach, more than half naked, with a bloody foot and a bruised ego. He sighed out loud and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Are you okay?”

Grayson nearly jumped, not because she was mean or aggressive but because he was having his internal meltdown under the impression that he was alone. He forgot about his little beach friend. Her brow furrowed softly, oh shit I should say something. 

“Yeah, I uhh I just got cut up is all” Grayson waived his injured foot softly from where it lay.

She hesitated for a second, neither of them was wearing a mask. Surely Dr. Fauci would approve of her helping a lone stranger who was in pain. She ignored the premonition, figuring that she wouldn’t be seeing anyone else soon anyway but remembering to put a mask in her purse for any future first aid incidents.

“Do you need a hand?” Her eyes were kind and caring, a deep brown that looked nearly gold in the grey light of that Tuesday morning. Grayson found himself looking at her, really looking at her for the first time since they started sharing the beach. She did not notice Grayson’s awkward gawk getting the best of him. She bent her head down, her eyes leaving Grayson’s gaze to search her purse for something. Grayson realized how small she was, probably only 5 feet tall and slender framed underneath her T-shirt and shorts. She unearthed a small, white package from within her purse. “Bandaid?” she offered, holding it out to him.

“Yeah that’d be great,” Grayson nodded softly and took the package from her. He looked from the white box to his cut and his muscles tensed up, unsure of where to start. He looked up at her, his brown eyes wide with uncertainty. She smiled softly at him, reassuring that frustrated place in his heart slightly. “Want some help?”, she was already kneeling down before he could start nodding.

Grayson slipped the white bandage box into her small palm as she started wiping away the larger pieces of sand around the cut. “You think it could get infected?” he asked, “By something in the water?”

She laid a piece of gauze over his cut as she shook her head. “No, the salt in the water would act as an electrolyte to dehydrate the phospholipid bilayer of any aquatic bacteria before it even got in.” He felt his eyebrows raise. She wrapped his foot in a larger bandage before adding, “uh I mean… it’s salt water, so you’ll be fine…..how did you do this anyway?”

“I must’ve stepped on a rock coming out of the water,” Grayson coolly forgot to mention his earlier debacle of looking like a Saint Bernard on a surfboard.

“If a big guy like you can get taken down by a rock, I have no chance in this world,” she remarked while standing up and putting the box back in her purse.  Grayson laughed out loud with a wide smile. Her joke wasn’t even that funny, but it had been so long since he heard someone make a joke besides Ethan.

She smiled down at him, “I like the band” she gestured toward the solid black tattoo on his right ankle. “I think I would go with an anklet though,” she added with a soft confidence.”

Grayson tried to stand on the freshly bandage foot, “True but this way I’ll never lose it in the ocean.”

It was her turn to laugh, she flashed a bright smile at him and let out a happy sound. Her laugh died down as Grayson stood up tall: a tanned, muscular Adonis standing before her. “Well um..I’m glad to see you’re doing okay,” she started to step away from him, “See you later.” She smiled before turning away.

“See you later,” Grayson waved goodbye as she turned her back and continued her walk. He stopped himself, why was a grown man waving goodbye in public like a kindergartener at school? He let his hand fall to his side before picking up his board and walking back to his van. He looked down at his foot, I guess Ethan is taking out the trash tonight..and making me dinner. 

On the other side of the beach, she drew in a breath and cursed to herself, shit..I didn’t get his name..

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Grayson returned to the beach the next morning without his board. He decided that getting his bandaged (freshly done and kissed with love by Ethan) foot was too much of a risk. Also, he feared cutting up his good foot with a matching gash. He couldn’t depend on pretty girls with nice eyes to always be there with bandaids.  Instead, he sat down on the sand, letting the water run over his right foot and leg. He held his injured leg in his bicep, folding his knee up to meet his chest. With his free arm, he tried to skip stones in the water from his position on the ground.

He tried his best to enjoy his introspective morning with the ocean, even though he wasn’t in the water.

“I almost didn’t recognize you without your board” she looked down at him from under the visor of a black baseball hat.

He chucked, “Boards don’t pair well with bandaged feet.” He smiled up at her, “Thank you, by the way, for yesterday. I really appreciate it… You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem….just being a kind stranger,” outwardly, she smiled gently but inwardly she cringed at the awkwardness of her own words. Grayson smiled gently back at her, she can’t have been too awkward if he’s still looking at her right?

“My names Kate”

“I’m Grayson”   A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! This is the first thing I am ever posting and would really appreciate any feedback you have about whether or not I should keep going. <3 

[lisinfleur]

FTM - A Better Man

Author’s Notes | One more series coming to an end. Sorry for the short work, but I hope you guys have enjoyed this one! Words | 1972 ⁑ Warnings: Erotic content, mentions to betrayal.

Some things change.

Hvitserk couldn't really say he missed the time with his lovers anymore. It was good to have so many women around him, so full of desire, so ready for him. But it was better to have you around, full of what he discovered was love.

That feeling that was filling him inside every time you were smiling, the fulfilling sensation of earning a laugh, one of your touches...

Your desire.

It took a bunch of months for him to finally think it was time to try and get laid with you one more time but you fully surprised him when he arrived home from one of his meetings at the hall and the house was smelling differently. You changed the aromatic wood, spread candles all around your home creating a different illumination pattern that Hvitserk didn't miss. And you were there to receive him, but not in your usual apron dresses. Instead, you received him in a beautiful nightgown, fresh from an herbal bath he could smell in your skin when you came closer, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his lips before even saying your usual sentence whenever he would enter his home.

"Welcome home, husband..."

You were trying to seduce him. And Hvitserk caught himself completely involved in the ambiance you'd created for the two of you, looking at you with surprise, but desire in his eyes as well.

As your hands slid his cloak away from his body, his eyes scanned that nightgown recognizing the embroidery and tissue: he had seen you working in those details not far from that day and so, he understood...

You were preparing that night for him, just like you had prepared your whole life to meet and marry him. And this time, he wouldn't leave your efforts unanswered.

His hands touched gently the delicate tissue of your nightgown, feeling the intricate embroidery you had done, gently pressing it against your skin to feel your contours under it. His breath became heavier when you sighed for his touches and Hvitserk noticed how starved he was for your touches.

Your fingers sliding through his chest accused you had untied his shirt without his acknowledge and Hvitserk smiled: he was so involved by your scent and the whole bunch of details you had prepared that he didn't even notice how forward you were going with him already.

The shirt slid to the ground and he pulled his shoes from his feet carelessly by stepping with the tip of one foot against the heel of the other, dragging the boots out of his skin, and stomping heavily against the wooden floor while walking eagerly towards your room, getting giggles from your mouth as he growled in the back of his throat against your lips.

By your flushed cheeks and the smile on your lips, you weren't expecting such eagerness from him, which just aroused him more. Your innocence was delightful as much as your skin he felt with his hands and tasted with his mouth when Hvitserk was finally able to find the ways into your nightgown.

Giggles and sighs were mixed to small moans and grunts into your chambers and soon the clothes were laid somewhere on the floor as your bare bodies embraced each other in bed.

Your warm hands running his skin, causing him the shivers he was missing so bad to feel. His mouth dragging moans growing louder from your mouth.

Hvitserk had forgotten how delicious it was to make you come for his fingers or into his mouth or even how soft it was to be embraced by your tight walls, with your warm legs around his hips as he was dedicated to thrust the air out of your lungs into that beautiful melody of your moans of pleasure.

He took the whole night to explore your body and kill the thirst and hunger of his body for you. And then, when Sun decided to invade his room, Hvitserk had his body laid lazily against yours, feeling your caresses slowly taking his consciousness away as his muscles were charging him the efforts of that heretic dance the two of you divided with each other.

Before he could fall asleep, your voice sounded into his ears whispering words he would discover were his favorite sentence in your sweetened voice.

"I love you, Hvitserk."

Moon after moon, Hvitserk saw himself surrounded by a dream he thought would never happen when he was young. What was once a curse, was now his most precious blessing and even his father had the chance to listen to him saying words of pride and happiness about you that Ragnar never really expected to hear his son speaking about his arranged marriage and wife.

After that night, many others came. And your basket wasn't sitting untouched like decoration near the fireplace anymore. Again, Hvitserk would arrive home to see your needles moving or sit for hours at the Hall with his family during a longer visit, to speak with his brothers about the upcoming birth of his nephew or niece Ubbe had produced with Torvi and seeing as you were slowly preparing clothes for the children he now was planning and trying to produce with you.

Even Ivar had to swallow his mocking words and admit you had carved your name into his brother's heart: with the advent of your second anniversary of marriage to Hvitserk, his older brother was so smiley and celebrating that Ivar couldn't deny Hvitserk really fell in love with you for good.

But as some things change, others are deep-seated...

You had the chance to know them. From Torvi to Snaefrid to Gunnhild and now that woman, Ingrid - The new blonde lover he was just discovered with - Björn had never changed his terrible behavior towards the women he would have by his side. One raid, one trip, one moon away and he would find another to put in his bed and replace the one who was taking his promises for granted, leaving behind nothing but shards of broken hearts and sometimes, broken alliances as well.

This time, all of them had to admit that it was a low strike: Gunnhild was pregnant with Björn's upcoming child and he decided to satiate his need with another.

Front to Gunnhild’s resigned acceptance and suggestion, Ragnar had forced his older son to take responsibility for the situation and now all of you were watching as Björn was angrily complaining about the problem of a second marriage to come for him.

"It wasn't necessary for me to take a second wife! It wasn’t what I was intending…" he grunted.

"Once you weren't satisfied with your first one..." Hvitserk threw back, a mocking smile on his face as you were crocheting by his side.

"What? Feeling full of moral to speak now, brother?" Björn spat, annoyed by your husband's interference. "As if you didn't know exactly how it is to search outside what you don't have inside!"

"I do," Hvitserk said, causing you to miss a stitch and look at him.

But his expression didn't change. That ironic smile on his face almost ridiculing Björn's tantrum.

"But it was my own mistake and I admit it," he completed, causing the air to enter his wife's lungs one more time. "If I had really searched inside, I would've found everything I was looking for. It doesn't seem you took your time with your wife, brother."

Björn scoffed, annoyed.

"Oh, and she's round like a bag full with my child because I didn't take my time, for sure."

"You seeded her, Björn. But this is not everything a woman needs," Hvitserk said, looking at him. "You see, Torvi is full with child as well and you don't see Ubbe looking around for another to get his dick wet. And soon my wife will be full with my child and you won't see me fleeing from my duty as well. It is their part to satisfy us and produce us children, but also it is our part to understand this is not an easy thing or it would be possible for us to do so. Gunnhild is with your son in her belly, Björn. You should've respected the woman who decided to make her body your temple instead of trying to make a whole bunch of temples everywhere."

"Don’t fuck with me, Hvitserk!" Björn cursed. "You must've children around you don't even know are yours! Stop speaking so highly as if you didn't fuck every hole around when you were younger!"

"When I was younger, you're right," Hvitserk completed. "Things change, boys grow into men. Didn't your mom teach you this, brother?"

The mention to his mother made Björn's frown a little deeper as his younger brothers hissed at the acidity of that mention.

"Well, it's not my problem either way: your child will have two mothers to teach him how to be a better man or woman and I have my life to take care of, right?" Hvitserk giggled, lifting his cup and touching your thigh with his free hand.

Ivar smiling behind his cup still pleased by that mention to Lagertha around as Sigurd was holding back the laugh Björn's frown prevented him from releasing.

"Good that you know where to put your nose in, brother," Björn grunted back at Hvitserk. "Especially because while you're here bitching about my decisions in life, I already made my legacy, Ubbe has his coming, Sigurd I've heard will marry that farm woman of his and even Ivar has that slave girl he freed on sight. Less babbling and more producing, idle Hvitserk. When will your children come, uh? You married before Ubbe and even before I left Torvi. Don't you have some accounts to pay?"

Another bunch of hisses. That would be a good strike if it wasn't for your voice finally sounding on that table, silencing everyone before your husband would annoyedly answer to his brother's accusations.

"The firstborn shall come by the end of the next Summer," you said, attracting all the glares towards you, including Hvitserk's eyes that were the largest than you've ever seen before.

"What?" he asked, taken aback by the calm smile on your face.

"I was saving it for tonight's dinner, but since the appropriate moment came before I was expecting, it's true, husband. The midwife told me I'm with child," you said, simply like that, smiling at him with the whole calm and gentleness of the world as if it wasn't a punch in his face.

"With... Child?" Hvitserk asked, dizzy, causing his brothers to giggle and Sigurd's laugh to burst from behind his cup as Björn was rolling his eyes.

"You'll be a father, husband," you smiled bigger. "By the end of the next..."

You couldn't complete the sentence. Hvitserk sealed his lips to yours, closing your mouth with a warm and happy kiss before giggling against your lips, full of happiness.

"A child... A child of ours! I'll be a father!" he yelled to his brothers who lifted their cups, saluting.

Björn's a little lower since he was annoyed by losing his argument.

Hvitserk, however, had completely forgotten that arguing. He forgot completely there was a bunch of happy men celebrating his happiness around him. His eyes landed on yours and he caressed your belly gently, full of hope and joy in his greens.

The gods had accepted his change and his seed rooting into your womb was the proof he had proven himself a better man for them. Worthy of you in their eyes.

"It is the first... From the many I'll grant you, my wife. From the many I'll make with you from our love!" he promised.

An oath you would like to see him fulfilling from dreams he now wanted from nobody else but you.

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[truamatized-kids-writes]

A New Home

Prologue This has been uploaded on a03 and yes we are the original writers  Dec. 13. 2021

“Well then, Tubbo, do you have everything we need?”

"I think? I've got food, beehive's nukes and a few other things we'll probably need"

“Yeah yeah, you and your goddamn Bee’s, where the hell is “Ranboo?”

"Last I'd seen he was on his way here? Maybe he got distracted or something?"

“Probably, fuckers distracted by anything and everything, we should probably go look for him if he doesn't show up in the next 12 minutes or something, god knows what could happen to him around here”

"That's true things have gone to shit at this point, besides we need to leave as soon as possible"

“Yeah no shit, all of L’manburg is gone at this point, Dream’s beyond insane, Ghostbur want’s to bring back fucking Wilbur, it’s a mystery what happens next”

"Yeah yeah I get it Cut the existential dread let's go look for Ranboo, and grab the jukebox and whatever things we've got left"

“Yeah yeah, shut it Bee boy I’m going, still can’t believe we’re actually going through with this though. Though it is to be expected at this point, we all know what happened last time we thought about this and didn’t actually do it”

"Then we still had something to actually work towards now let's go"

◦╌╌≺ ೃ≻╌╌𓂂꒰𖥸꒱𓂂╌╌≺ ೃ≻╌╌◦◦╌╌≺ ೃ≻╌╌𓂂꒰𖥸꒱𓂂╌╌≺ ೃ≻╌╌◦

Tommyinnit has died from lightning

Tubbo_ went out with a bang

Ranboo drowned trying to escape Elder Guardian

◦╌╌≺ ೃ≻╌╌𓂂꒰𖥸꒱𓂂╌╌≺ ೃ≻╌╌◦◦╌╌≺ ೃ≻╌╌𓂂꒰𖥸꒱𓂂╌╌≺ ೃ≻╌╌◦

The death of the three shook many and gave a slight moment of clarity for those taken by surprise. One of the first reactions was from Sam he seemed so lost and confused by the events that had taken place , he tried messaging the three Individually and with no answer he panicked looking into what's now L'mancrater ever so shook and lost, he was just getting to know the kids, what a week ago and now they're gone?

Silence ran through the air the second the death messages were sent out, a lone father, if you could even call him that anymore, stood on an obsidian grid, re-reading the message over and over again. Philza Minecraft, a man who once had Three sons, now left with one, now left to face the consequences of his actions. Phil knew none of the kids would be happy after what he had done, but he though it had to be done, he thought that the Smp could go back to being just an Smp without L’manburg, he didn’t think he’d be left to mourn with only one son left out of the three he once knew and loved.

Things were hushed as the large demi-god sheltered his father/mother from the explorations. When the chaos finished he frantically checked his communicator to see what damage had been done, the once was god of death(?) And reincarnation (?) was in tears. This wasn't meant to happen , he wasn't meant to lose them this soon. The messages of the three deaths sent anger, greif, and sadness throughout the demi-god causing him to shout out in frustration. The three boys he'd gotten so used to talking to, giving gifts, and seeing them sneak around his builds, gone all so suddenly with out a chance to say anything, it pissed him off, he'd lost a sibling and two close friends this day and he didn't intend to let their names go down in vain.

The mother, being protected by her son saw the messages, one among the first to see them just the look fo them brought her to tears. They couldn't be real, they just couldn't she thought as she read over the messages herself over and over frantically before it finally set in and brought her to hysterical sobs.They were gone.. She couldn't help them now, her bee loving son, his rowdy swearing friend, and the quiet forgetful boy they'd drag along with them. This small ragtag group of friends gone, she hoped begged even for her son Foolish to tell her it wasn't true, but she could see it the grief in his eyes, yet somehow she felt it her fault. She should've been there for the three, she should be been the one. Defending then this entire time, looking around this crater she knew what had come of the smp. With the three gone there would be no more scolding them to leave the kitchen as she made dinner or telling the three about the pirate adventures she remembered, there would be none of it. No more laughter from the kids. It broke her but she knew someone had to step up and at least be some sort of light or joy in this time of need, and that would be her, no matter how broken she was she'd do it.

Then, there was one person who could never seem to remember what had occurred on that day. The day of Doomsday, the ghost of the server known as Ghostbur had lost two brothers, and someone he was still getting to know. Once he received the news, blue started pouring from the poor ghost’s eyes, instantly becoming a dark royal blue the second it touched his ‘skin’.

Ghostbur may not be able to remember a lot about Tommy, but he and Alivebur really cared about him, the same goes for Tubbo and Ranboo. The ghost just held blue and cried for as long as he could before melting in the rain and waking up back in the sewer, forgetting everything that happened the day prior, along with the fact that the three youngest on the server were forever gone.

The girl with the flowers , when she saw the death messages she wasn't sure what to feel, glee, anger, sadness? She felt this odd moment of clarity, it was foggy but before she knew it she was crying , there weren't any words as she looked up to the rain, the tears and water mixing as she grinned, a look of both sadness and madness on her face as she choked on non-existent words. The thought of wanting to laugh and cackle at the three deaths crossed her, but so did the thought of standing there rain the rain grieving a shouting to the sky in anger and sadness crossed too. She felt so many mixed emotions that she didn't know what to do. While she wanted to grieve and hurt like everyone else she had left to care about, she just couldn’t, no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t shed a single tear that would mean anything, she was upset, so why couldn’t she show it?

The piglin up on the obsidian grid noticed his fathers sudden look of despair and checked his communicator, the deaths only two had a lasting impact on the piglin. Tommy , dead, it shook him, he expected something a little more dignified for the boy he called Thesus. His stone heart nearly split in two reading the message, why him? Sure he was annoying as all hell but the boy deserved greatness , glory, to be on the winning side of the battle for once. He wished to give it to him , but he couldn't any more. Tubbo's message hardly affected him , sure he was a kid but he also at one point was a government and had tried to execute him as well, there's no reason in worrying over someone you don't care about. Though the same couldn't be said for Ranboo. Ranboos death caught him off guard. He didn't know them too well but he was getting to know him, this kid despite how cold he was and how often he pushed them away came back, happily and even gave him a gift. A life lost is a life lost but this one he'd mourn just like Tommy's the two would most certainly get a memorial at the house of the blade,

Then, you had the one behind the chaos, the one who caused everything, the man, the myth, the legend, Dream. The one person left who felt nothing but pure glee, the one who wanted those damn kids gone from the beginning, Tommy being gone would be a bit of a setback, but it could be dealt with. Dream didn’t care as long as the other two were gone, However, Dream isn’t as naive, he isn’t one to believe so quickly. Dream knew those kids were not dead, they would never die, even if they did, Dream could just bring them back, there was no escaping him, no escaping the DreamSMP. Dream would make sure of it. Even if it hurt the people he, deep deep down, cared about.

[hoodwinkd1]

Your Eyes Whispered Ch 11-13

Ch 8 - 10 here. Ch 14 here.

Chapter 11: morning, her place

Eris jumped out of sleep the next morning, waking suddenly to the pressure of someone attempting to break down his wards. His body tensed immediately, an instinctual growl rising in his throat at the perceived threat. His mind reacted a moment later, recognizing the scent currently trying to break down the front door.

“RHIANNON HARMONY OPEN THE DAMN DOOR.” Interesting. Eris had made it this far without ever asking Rhia for her last name.

He waved a hand, removing the additional wards he had placed on the house last night. Grabbing his tunic from the chair and throwing it over his head, Eris strode downstairs just in time to watch Sofine burst into the front room.

She gave him such a ferocious glare that he froze in place without meaning to. “I suppose you’re the reason Rhia left town mysteriously for two days?”

“I, uh, yes.” Eris really wasn’t used to anyone scolding him. “Rhia helped me out with a...situation at the palace. Coffee?”

He vaguely remembered Rhia owed him a thought from last night. All this relaxation and peace had done some damage on his sharp, cunning mind.

Sofine’s eyes widened momentarily. Whether she was surprised at the gesture or suddenly remembering who she was scolding, her tone calmed considerably. “She keeps the beans above the stove, if you didn’t know.”

Eris nodded, accepting the small olive branch she offered. He lit the front burner with a flick of his pointer finger while filling the kettle under the tap with a flex of his other hand. The movements came quickly, naturally, and some of the tension left his body at the small expulsions of magic.

Quick footsteps skittered to a stop at the bottom of the stairs as the love of his life took in the scene in front of her. Shit. Eris’ thoughts had become pathetic and obsessive without his permission. He would have scowled if the sight of Rhia treading into the kitchen nervously hadn’t been so damn endearing.

“Shit, Sofi, I’m sorry.” Rhia embraced her friend tightly. “I didn’t mean to leave so abruptly; you must have been so worried.”

Sofine laughed softly, kissing the top of her head. “Oh I was very calm. Other than yelling at the High Lord first thing this morning.”

“I’m sure he deserved it,” Rhia hummed. She then made her way towards Eris, who finished steeping the beans at exactly the right second, handing her a steaming cup of coffee as she reached him. “What did you do?”

“Other than drag you into my mess?” Eris inquired, repressing the bolt of guilt that shot through him at the idea of Rhia in danger at the palace. “I placed additional wards up last night.” He looked over her head at Sofine. “I’ll make sure to include you in them next time.”

Rhia raised an eyebrow. “Who gave you permission to place them in the first place?”

Eris noted her light tone and twinkling eyes. “You tried to break into the most heavily guarded building in the Autumn Court yesterday and branded yourself as an enemy to the crown. What if someone tries to arrest you for that again?”

“Rhia,” Sofine gasped. “You tried to break into the palace?” Swiveling her glare to Eris, she demanded: “Why didn’t you let her in?”

At least she was scolding them both now. Eris held his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t know she was there!”

“And I didn’t try to break in, I actually did break in,” Rhia grumbled. “You should really upgrade the security on the eastern external wall.”

Sofine huffed. “Will you both disagree on every little detail? I want the full story.” She sat herself down at the kitchen table, making a big show of getting comfortably situated. “I have time.”

Eris sensed that now would be a lovely time to retreat and leave Rhia to her own devices. “I have to return to the palace and the horrors of bureaucracy.” He leaned forward, giving Rhia half a second to adjust to his closeness, before placing a chaste kiss on her lips. Her mouth upturned into a small smile, one he wished he could spend hours exploring. “I’ll come back when I can, good?”

“Very good,” she replied. “I expect a full report of our Court’s political situation when you return.”

Eris sighed dramatically. “If you insist.” He waved to Sofine. “I hope you won’t be too disappointed in my abilities after hearing the full story.”

“To be determined.” Her face flushed lightly, a female still unused to the High Lord’s presence, but he only felt gratitude at her attempts to treat him as normal as possible.

Eris blinked and appeared in his chambers, taking a minute to change his clothing and wash his face. He uttered some choice words at the pile of paperwork littering his desk, rifling through the to-do lists, save-the-dates, business contracts, and personal correspondences to see if any of it required his immediate attention.

One of his spies, Jyn, had sent him a list of potential candidates to fill the vacant adviser roles that Eris skimmed quickly. He had a half-baked plan forming in his mind to let people vote on the Fae listed on the sheet, maybe even ensuring that each region had specific representation. Gerwin had helped him draft a few new pieces of legislation that Eris would announce during the Autumnal Equinox ball, so one more shouldn’t cause any additional havoc.

“Fuck,” Eris swore again, remembering that his Court’s largest annual celebration was only a fortnight away and he had no idea what the hell was going on with the event.

He already wanted to check on his mother and Liang would know the most about the upcoming celebrations. Two birds, one awkward acknowledgement that they shared a bedroom.

Eris walked down the corridor, stopping to chat with one of the servants to make sure everyone on staff last night had received additional pay for working through an attempted coup. The slender male named Yuri had confirmed that the throne room was completely cleaned of any body parts and that to his knowledge, everyone had gotten the money before heading home.

The Lady of the Autumn Court lived in a different wing of the palace than her husband and sons had, a different wing than where Eris now lived basically alone. As he approached the white double doors, he ignored the urge to open the door automatically and knocked instead.

“Yes?” His mother’s tone was curious and wary, until she laid eyes on him. “Oh, darling! Come in, come in.”

Eris followed her inside, observing how much lighter and joyful she seemed in the glow of day. Her decorations had always used softer colors and more patterns than typical Autumn design; even the gold that adorned the soft blue curtains looked brighter than the gold that detailed his traditional red decor.

“How are you?” he inquired. “Did the healers take a look at you last night?”

She herded him over to the seating area. “Yes, and you have nothing to worry about. I wasn’t harmed by the Night Court.” Eris let out a deep exhale. He hadn’t known how to delicately ask what she’d experienced in captivity, and her warm gaze confirmed that she hadn’t been tortured. “I might not be feared or even respected by the other Courts, but Keir knows exactly who my allies are. And who my family is.”

“If Rhysand hadn’t finally taken care of the trash ruining his terrority, there would have been a list of us ready to kill Keir for him,” Liang grumbled, joining them from the bedroom. “Eris.”

He returned her nod. “Thank you for insisting on the healers.” Eris turned his body to face her more directly. “I actually had a question for you, as well. The Autumnal Ball is supposed to be in two weeks and I--”

“Hadn’t planned anything for it?” Liang teased. “Not to worry. The High Lord typically shows little to no interest in the event planning.” Her words had a bitter edge to them, and Eris knew he wasn’t the High Lord she spoke of. “I can send details to your rooms later today for your approval.”

Eris held his hands up. “I trust your judgement much more than my own. I would be interested in seeing the plans, though, just for my own knowledge.”

“Of course. I’ll at least want your opinion on the guest list, make sure I didn't’ miss anyone important.” Liang sat next to his mother, who raised an eyebrow.

“Is there anyone she wouldn’t have thought to invite, darling?” she asked innocently. “Do you have any new friends we don’t know about?”

Her words made him feel like an adolescent. “You know I don’t have friends. But I might send invitations to the other High Lords; see if they’d like to send a delegation.”

“Just let me or my assistant know if anyone needs to be seated separately to avoid a fight,” Liang offered. “We have over a thousand guests confirmed, so a few more won’t require much adjustment.”

Eris’ eyes bulged out of his head. “A thousand? Where did you find that many fucking people?”

“Language,” his mother admonished. “And we’ve always had a large attendance, though never quite this large.” She grinned at him. “I believe the host might be a bit more popular this year than in previous years.”

He fell into his thoughts as the two females ordered tea and went through some of the other details with him over the next hour. The annual ball was one of the only events that sent out a certain number of tickets to each regional capital, instead of inviting specific Fae individually. During Beron’s reign, only the required attendees who sat in governing roles showed up, but almost all of the optional invitations had been reserved this year with family members, friends, and colleagues. Eris hoped that meant his Court felt more comfortable with him than his father, and not that they all wanted a front-row seat to his inevitable failure or demise.

Liang sent him off with a few blank invitations, spelled to deliver themselves immediately after being addressed. He stopped by his rooms and scrawled out all the High Lords’ names, except for the Night Court’s which he addressed to Carina. She probably wouldn’t throw his letter directly in the fire. He also added a personal note, letting her know that he still owed her a very fancy dress for her help in finding his mother, offering to send his best tailor her measurements if she wanted to call in that deal.

Either through a simple mistake or a stroke of ingenuity, Liang had handed him 7 invitations, leaving Eris an extra blank one. Inspiration hit him like a brick. Rhia.

Would she want to come? See him in his role? Watch the entire fucking island scrutinize him? Normally, Eris would have let his thoughts swirl in a self-deprecating river until he’d talked himself out of the idea. He chose to stop himself this time, however, and practice healthy communication by just asking her.

Would they be able to hide their bond at such a large event? Any daemati would know, if they didn’t maintain their mental shields perfectly the entire time. The thought of hiding his feelings for Rhia, avoiding her gaze and looking at anyone else when perfection was right in front of him, drew a low growl from his lips. For her safety, though, he would do anything. Even if acting like he didn’t care felt so uniquely miserable.

Carina’s response drew him out of his thoughts. Cauldron, he was getting irrationally dismal in his old age. Maybe that was a side effect of patricide.

He snorted internally at the bleak joke.

Of course I’ll be there, idiot. Bryce is coming too. Something about how I never have any regard for my own safety blah blah blah. I’ve attached detailed instructions for your tailor, and I’ll be bringing a backup gown in case it’s not up to my standard. I have a reputation to uphold.

Eris let relief wash over him that he’d have at least one ally present. At the mention of Carina’s mate, he considered asking her for help with the whole mess of emotions that he went through daily. At the very least, she was one of the very few people in Prythian who understood the dangers of power, the sharpness of panic that came with putting loved ones in danger from enemies that normally wouldn’t spare them a second glance.

Hours of meetings and too many decisions stood between Eris and sitting in his favorite chair in a too-small kitchen. He gave himself one minute to hope that the violent chapters of his life had closed permanently, gave himself one minute to dream of what happiness and peace might actually look like, before re-entering his role as High Lord.

Chapter 12: spent their whole lives trying to put it into words

One small TW for abuse (past, nothing graphic). I've put the usually XXX before and after, but as always please let me know if I can make these warnings better and if you want a summary of that section.

“Hold that position. Yes! Exactly like that!” Rhia gasped. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement

Her student’s tiny arms began to tremble slightly at the exertion. Aliar’s face remained focused, however, as he used his leg muscles to push the wave of water higher and higher, until it touched the ceiling.

He dropped it suddenly. “Was that good?”

Rhia grinned. “That was wonderful . Did you see how much higher you raised it using your entire body instead of just your arms?”

He nodded quickly, a slow smile building on his face. Much quieter than the other two students he trained with, Aliar’s smile was equivalent to jumping with joy.

“Go grab some water, then you all can stretch and go home.” Rhia herded the trio of younglings toward the counter dividing the studio and her kitchen, where she always laid out a pitcher and cups. Raquel immediately stole Aliar’s attention, bestowing compliments and advice all in the same breath, at a speed too fast for anyone to follow along. They had a few more weeks before they would master water, all three of them did, but had made good progress nonetheless.

Rhia shuffled past Leyora carefully, from where the female had begun stretching in the most inconvenient spot, towards the dining room table. She eyed the blank parchment sitting there. The memory of the last time she had been waiting for a message from Eris while teaching this same trio hurt to recall, but she shook off any negative thoughts. Today had been good, her sleep undisturbed and her breathing easy.

It’s only been a day, she chided herself mentally. Give him time to respond, you needy wench.

“What is that?” Raquel demanded. Rhia barely stopped herself from jumping at their voice and shoved her hand away from the parchment. “Are you being sneaky with something?”

“What?” Rhia replied. “I’m an adult. I don’t have to sneak anything.”

Leyora raised her eyebrows. “Sounds like something a sneaky person would say.” Alair humphed in agreement.

“You’re all menaces. Raquel, finish your water.” Children could be eerily perceptive when they wanted to, usually when adults didn’t want them to.

As they grabbed their coats and ambled out, weather already turning gloomy before the Solstice, Rhia watched them go with a strange bittersweet feeling. Would she continue teaching if she became Lady--

Shit. That was not a road she had ever gone down and certainly didn’t need to go down. As if she would ever officially court Eris, nonetheless marry him when they hadn’t done anything more than kissing yet. When they still hadn’t talked through their pasts, their hopes, their darknesses.

Still, the thought lingered.

Rhia busied herself with making dinner as the sun set, drawing graceful golden designs on the walls. She sensed Sofine coming up to her door, grabbing two wine glasses as the Fae burst into the room.

“You read my mind,” she purred. Her gaze turned flirtatious as she noticed the wine Rhia had selected. “Feeling fancy tonight, are we? Expecting special guests?”

Rhia clicked her tongue. “You’re special enough for a nice bottle of wine. Sit, sit.”

Telling Sofi the full story, including how the mating bond had shared the agony of Eris’ stab wound, hadn’t been fun. Rhia had let her friend scold her, had let Sofi get out all of the frustration and worry she felt. Of course they both hoped that being Eris’ mate wouldn’t put Rhia in harm again, but the ordeal had created an entirely new set of anxieties.

So tonight, they stuck to pleasant topics. Rhia’s students, Sofine’s attempts to make a new kind of bread (Rhia secretly wondered how one could create a new kind of bread, but didn’t question it). The roasted vegetables turned out perfectly, a lucky feat when one’s best friend could cook better than anyone for miles.

And of course, the parchment glowed at exactly the wrong moment when Rhia had turned her back to bring the dishes to the sink. She heard Sofi’s gasp and whipped her head around, groaning when she saw her reading whatever message Eris had just sent.

“I’m a bit scandalized.” Sofi winked. “Is he always this dirty?”

Rhia gaped. “What the fuck? Give me that!” She moved at the speed of light, snatching the paper.

May I stop by tonight?

“Ugh, you’re such a bitch,” Rhia grumbled.

Sofine shrugged. “You should’ve seen your face. Maybe you wanted it to be a dirty message.”

That was the problem. Rhia would have loved a dirty message. Or she would have run screaming for the hills and never spoken to anyone ever again. It was a toss up.

“Do you mind if he crashes our plans?” she asked, stopping her perilous thoughts once more. Eris had never looked at her that way, at least not that she had noticed.

Sofi waved her glass of wine like a queen would her scepter. “Please. We hang out every other night. The male presence spices up the evening.”

If you don’t mind Sofi and I after two glasses of wine, Rhia wrote back.

Excellent. Shall I bring something from the royal cellar or do you have more than enough alcohol?

Oh definitely bring something. A fruity red, if you really want to win her over.

She couldn’t have counted to thirty in the time it took for Eris to appear in the kitchen.

“How did you possibly grab wine and winnow here that quickly?” Rhia demanded.

Eris shrugged. “I’m incredible like that.”

“Or he was sitting in the wine cellar, waiting to drown his sorrows if you said no,” Sofine piped up. Her cheeks flushed. “Sorry, I’m still not sure if I’m allowed to treat you normally and such.”

“Please,” Eris smiled. “Put me through all the shit you would normally put a male through.” With a mischievous look at Rhia, he added: “And feel free to tell me about those males while you’re at it.”

Rhia snatched the bottle from him. “Absolutely not.” She checked the label. “Cauldron damn me, this is 600 years old! Wait -- Eris, when exactly were you born?”

“I will not be age-shamed after procuring some of the finest wine in Autumn tonight,” he growled. “You know damn well how old I am.”

Sofine sighed. “I hope I’m not that grumpy in four hundred years.” She raised her now-empty glass up to Rhia, who gladly filled it.

---

Eris flicked his wrist and pulled out a glass for himself, then threw his body into the unoccupied chair. He let out a mock sigh at the females’ teasing, hiding his genuine joy at the playful conversation and quick remarks that flew across the room.

XXX

“I’m never throwing myself a birthday party again,” he insisted. “It’s just depressing at this point. I would’ve stopped throwing them years ago, if we hadn’t been...required to.” Eris trailed off. He’d almost shared the darling fact that Beron had forced all of his sons to host birthday galas, as an excuse to demand gifts and promises from various lords and nobility. Beron also loved nothing more than to use the annual occurrence as an excuse to run through the boys’ failures that year. The harsh words stung, but the sharp blows that followed drew a special kind of agony.

XXX

Rhia’s brow furrowed slightly at his sudden change in tone. “I throw too many birthdays for my students anyway.” He appreciated her attempt to lighten the mood, and appreciated the warmth of her hand on his that followed.

“That reminds me.” Eris squeezed her hand quickly, the other darting into his jacket pocket. “I have something for you. Both of you.” Inspiration struck as he handed the ball invitation to Rhia.

Her eyes danced across the sturdy parchment. “The Autumn Solstice Ball? In two weeks?”

Sofine jumped up. “What? Give me that!” She squealed as she read what Rhia had just spoken. “By the Mother, Eris!! Oh, you are such an improvement on anyone Rhia’s brought home.”

“Sofi’s always wanted to attend a ball,” Rhia shared. Eris tried to judge her expression, but he couldn’t figure out what she was thinking.

“And you? Would you be interested in attending?” he probed. “I, I know it might be complicated for you to attend with the whole...situation.” He gestured between the two of them. “We can do this any way you’d like.”

Rhia worked her bottom lip between her teeth. “I want to, I really do.” Eris had to restrain himself from running his thumb over her forehead until the skin relaxed. “I’m worried people will know, but I’m also exhausted already at the thought of hiding it all night, but I know it’d be strange for you to pop up with a mate randomly, and I--”

“I have an idea,” Sofine interrupted. Her eyes narrowed as her brain doubtlessly worked out some scheme that Eris would either detest or fancy. “It would save you both some trouble. You wouldn’t have to hide your feelings, but you wouldn’t have to come up with a backstory about how you met.”

Oh, Eris would definitely love or hate this.

Sofine took a sip of her wine. “Spit it out, you dramatic tart,” Rhia complained after a moment.

“Write your own fairytale.” Sofi let a smirk play on her lips. “Pretend like you’ve never met, as if Rhia and I just received the invitations through some mistake or some administrative process. And then at the ball, poof! The bond.”

Eris let her words run through his mind once, twice. “You think we should act like the bond clicked into place...at the ball?”

Shrugging, she defended her plan. “I can’t say whether or not you both want to bring your relationship into the public domain, but it would be wonderful, wouldn’t it?” Eris would have snorted at the dreamy look in her eyes if he hadn’t gotten the same look whenever he thought about a future with Rhia. “The new High Lord...hosting an extravagant ball...seeing the most beautiful woman grace his presence...falling love with her-”

“Cauldron, Sofi, are you a writer now?” Rhia stopped her friend from writing an entire novel aloud. Her gaze darted to Eris. “It feels a bit over-the-top, though.”

“I hate to even say this, because you know it isn’t a priority for me, but Gerwin would murder me if I didn’t consider how good of a public relations boost this could be.” Eris winced. It felt unbelievably shallow and inconsiderate to worry about his reputation while discussing his most intimate relationship.

Luckily, Rhia waved off his concerns with a hand on his arm. “Well maybe that’s something I care about.” She turned to her friend. “Do you mind giving us a moment?”

“I’ll give you all night,” Sofi smirked. “Take all the time you need to...talk. Bye!”

Her joke left them both groaning. However, Eris did take advantage of Sofi’s absence to pull Rhia away from the table and towards the much comfier couch across the room. She sat facing him, tucking her legs underneath her as she always did.

“Can I?” Eris stretched out his arm. Rhia gave him the softest smile and nodded, pulling herself closer until they were properly cuddled up next to each other.

“We obviously don’t have to this,” Eris began. “There’s ten other ways you could attend, not attend, whatever you want.”

She scrunched up her face. “Don’t ever repeat this, especially not to Sofi, but I’m completely in love with the idea,’ Rhia confessed. “It’s so silly, I know, but it feels nice to create some fake story. We could keep everything else private.”

Eris loved the idea for entirely different reasons, pretty much of all of them that he would get to dance with the most delightful Fae in this world in front of everyone without having to explain himself to anyone. However, he could work with this.

“So then? Should we do this?”

Rhia rolled her eyes. “Why does it feel like I’m signing my life away to some top-secret mission? Yes, let’s do it.”

He stayed over again that night, except this time they stayed awake talking until an obscene hour. Eris fell asleep with images of their future lulling him into peace.

Chapter 13: your eyes whispered (have we met) take 2

Eris threw himself on his bed, letting out a dramatic sigh that no one could hear. It had been a week and a half of pure stress that saw every kind of crisis, from interviewing potential advisers that ended up having criminal backgrounds to finding out the ballroom floor had somehow deteriorated and needed a fix immediately. Now, the day before the Solstice, Eris found himself wishing Auster had succeeded in his coup, if only for the fact that dealing with these logistics seemed a fitting punishment for treason.

His thoughts, as always, drifted to Rhia. They’d only had a couple nights together since, and Eris had to run back to the palace both times after a couple hours. The last interruption came at a particularly inopportune moment, right as he finished telling her the story of his darkest moment.

“Fuck,” Eris swore. Gerwin’s note made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that he had to come deal with a fight that broke out between some of his people. “I--”

“Go deal with it,” Rhia commanded, her voice unnaturally calm.

Eris let out a loose breath. He had literally just told her about Mor, about leaving a dying woman alone in the woods rather than offer her any aid because she had dared defy their fathers. “I don’t want to leave like this.”

Rhia hadn’t dropped her gaze at any point during the conversation and held his stare even now. “Are you worried that you’ve upset me beyond reproach? That this conversation is my breaking point?”

“Maybe.” He broke first, using the excuse of throwing on his coat to look away. “It’s what isolated the Autumn and Night Court permanently; why the precious Inner Circle will never tolerate me beyond my usefulness as an ally.”

Rhia snorted. “If we had more time, I’d spend all of it convincing you that this most certainly is not my breaking point. But we don’t.” She moved closer into his personal space. “So go deal with your drama and I’ll prove to you that the bridge between us is unbreakable another time.”

She always complained about his cheesy one-liners, but that sentence had carried him through the entire evening and subsequent morning. It wasn’t until that night, until he lay in his bed alone, that doubt began creeping in.

Eris’s mind raged a violent battle. The logical, rational part of him argued that Rhia had insisted they were fine, insisted she wasn’t upset at him. The dark, twisted part of him sneered at that optimism, insisted that she would never look at him again. Why would she, after hearing about his tragic engagement? After all, Rhia looked up to the Inner Circle as if they were deities, the same people who declared Eris a mortal enemy.

Sleep finally stole him from his painful journey through his memories, but his dreams offered little comfort. They swept him from memories of kisses and laughter to visions of tragedy and heartbreak at terrifying speeds.

---

Rhia finished her cup of tea. Sofi stood in front of her, buzzing with excitement, as they both eyed the sheer bags in front of them.

“I can’t stand it anymore,” Sofi declared, throwing her hands up in an overly dramatic gesture. “I’m opening them.”

She untied the lovely ribbon keeping their gowns wrapped in the protective shields before Rhia could protest. “Oh my goodness, Rhia, look .”

“Treya outdid herself,” Rhia agreed. One of her student’s guardians had offered to make them dresses for the Ball for a heavily discounted price, claiming that she had overstocked on specialty fabrics that weren’t selling.

She ran a hand softly over the gold silk. It felt luxurious, obscenely so, and Rhia found herself questioning if she deserved this. Not just the dress, but the entire situation. After so many years stuck in one place, doing one job, with basically one friend, the thought of changing her life overnight seemed beyond daunting. For Eris, though, she would try to step out of her comfort zone.

If only I could step far enough out of my comfort zone to jump his bones, Rhia thought to herself, half-humorously and half-miserable.

Sofi played with the straps of her sparkling red gown. “Where did you go just now?”

“Just wondering how the hell I got here,” Rhia answered. They played this game whenever either drifted too far into their own heads, a way to mindfully reenter the present. “It’s like a fantasy, isn’t it? Finding true love and prince overnight.”

Her tone must have struck bitter, because Sofi stopped admiring the fabric and looked her dead in the eye. “What are you worried about? That you don’t deserve this?”

“Yes, but it’s not...” Rhia fiddled with her gown once more. “We’ve talked a lot about what our life after tonight will look like, and it’s not like we’re about to get married or anything, but is it strange that I wish we were further along in our relationship? How can we just declare ourselves to the entire damn continent at this point?”

Sofi raised an eyebrow. “I would say this is a completely normal stage to tell your circle of people about a relationship. Eris’ circle just happens to include the general public.” She refilled her own mug, then froze. “When you say further along, you don’t mean sex, do you?”

“And what if I do?” Rhia challenged. Her cheeks flushed a bit. It’s not as if Sofi hadn’t seen her at her worst moments and through every failed relationship since, but this admission felt more embarrassing, for some reason. “I’m about to meet his mother and we’ve barely felt each other up.”

One beat of silence, then:

“I’m sorry,” Sofi cackled. “What is your logic here?” Her laughter grew as Rhia frowned, making her words difficult to decipher. “‘Hey Eris! I know everything’s just peachy emotionally, but I can’t go public with you until we’ve fucked!’ Rhia, you’re smarter than this.”

Rhia was smarter than this. “It sounds worse when you say it like that! I just...I’ve never waited this long before and it feels like I’m failing somehow.”

Sofi stopped giggling. “Hey,” she said softly. “You can’t compare relationships, or males, or even yourself in different situations. You’re happier than I’ve ever seen you, and that’s all that matters.”

“I am,” Rhia agreed. She took a deep breath, letting her thoughts settle. “I am, and you’re right.” Saying it out loud had helped calm the tornado of insecurities, helped her realize the fallacy of her worries. “Honestly, I think it’s a good sign we both overthink every tiny thing. As if we’re both terrified to damage what we have.”

Her friend clicked her tongue. “As long as that overthinking doesn’t create any damages itself.”

---

Eris was definitely overthinking their plan. Rhia had written him a short note about an hour ago, letting him know that her gown was perfect and she couldn’t wait. Somehow, her simple positivity had sent Eris into a swirl of anxiety that led him to interrogate Liang about every last logistical element.

“You’re hovering,” she snapped, as he followed her down the hallway. “Why are you asking me about the greeting line? You’ve done it a hundred times.”

Eris usually found her temper refreshing. Not today, though. “Yes, but we don’t normally greet everyone. How long will I be in line?”

Liang gave him a bemused look. “I don’t know, thirty minutes? How chatty do you plan to be? And it’s only for the appointed representatives from each village, like every single other time.” She turned sharply, narrowly avoiding a group of Fae carrying large trays of food to the main hall.

“Don’t follow me,” she called out, not bothering to turn her head to look back at her High Lord. Eris stopped walking, but still heard her mumble several profanities under her breath.

He ran a hand through his hair. Somehow, he had to conclude official introductions and make it into the main party before Rhia showed up, so their “first-glance” would seem authentic, without offending any local politicians by cutting their discussions short. If dinner began too soon, they’d have to wait for dancing, but would it even make sense to lock eyes after two hours at the Ball?

“Pull yourself together,” he mumbled to himself. Eris hated feeling out of control, but he simply couldn’t force a thousand people to move exactly how he wanted.

The plan stressed him out immensely, yet would provide political protection for their relationship. Technically, the law required Eris to disclose any “personal liaisons” to the palace staff and advisers, for security reasons and to allow advisers to approve any potential marriages. He obviously hadn’t done that under Beron to protect his lovers, and really didn’t want anyone saying a damn thing about his future spouse. Luckily, Prythian held mating bonds in the highest regard, and no one would dare say shit about him and Rhia, especially if the bond seemed to appear at an auspicious time of year.

“Talking to yourself now? I heard that’s a sign of mental exhaustion.” Eris turned to face his brother. “Why aren’t you up in your chambers getting pampered and prepared?” Lucien asked.

“I’m going there now,” Eris grumbled. “I was checking on any last minute issues.”

Lucien placed a hand on his shoulder. “How dedicated. Funny story, though, I had only just stepped into the entrance hall when Mother accosted me and demanded I send you back to your chambers.” He let out a small chuckle. “I believe the words ‘nuisance’ and ‘in the way’ were used.”

“It’s my party. I think I’m allowed to help out-”

“You don’t give a shit about event planning,” Lucien interrupted. “Go do your hair and make yourself pretty for your...special guest.”

Eris started. He hadn’t mentioned anything to his brother about Rhia. “What are you talking about?”

Lucien stepped back and put his hands in his pockets. The prick had spent way too much time in the Night Court. “Only that Carina seemed a little too excited for you. Anyways.”

Eris watched him walk away. Of course she had blabbed to his brother, probably immediately after Eris had confided in her last week. She was dogmatically good at keeping secrets when necessary, but notoriously good at gossiping about personal matters.

Still, he winnowed to his chambers and started a bath. His hair did look a bit a shabby, now that Lucien mentioned it.

----

The trees lining the cobblestone path twinkled with golden light, leading the way to the palace. Rhia and Sofi did their best not to gape at the scenery, at everything from the decorations to the masses of people. While they both had visited cities before Amarantha’s reign, the influx of sounds and sights overwhelmed their small-town sensibilities.

Rhia craned her neck to observe the massive double doors that were flung open to allow entrance. “Do they truly leave the doors open all night? Seems dangerous with all these crowds.”

“The only Fae who might break in has an invitation tonight,” Sofi snorted. She nodded at the thick parchment in Rhia’s hand. “Don’t even think about scaling the west wall.”

“East wall,” Rhia corrected automatically. Her heart had begun to race as they neared the doors, the entrance hall now visible over the other guests’ heads. The guards worked efficiently, splitting the crowd into three lines to check their invitations and scan for weapons.

The duo exchanged no further words until they reached the checkpoint. The guard let them through with no hassle, and Rhia let out a small breath. She didn’t expect to be denied entry or thrown in a prison cell, but her last encounter with palace guards had tainted her memory. Hopefully none of the members on staff tonight had arrested her previously.

“He certainly has taste, you think?” Sofi commented as they swept down the spacious hallway. Rhia nodded, enjoying the bright colors of the Autumn Court represented on ornate curtains, plush carpet, and detailed murals. On another occasion, she might have taken her time to admire the artwork like the other guests, but Rhia dragged Sofi quickly through them, with only one beautiful thing on her mind.

An extremely tall Fae stood at the end of the hall, in front of another set of large doors. Unfortunately, these were closed shut.

Rhia frowned at the sight. “Did we have the time wrong?”

“Oh, they just have to finish up the greeting line.” Rhia and Sofi jumped at the sudden comment. “They should open them shortly.”

Rhia grinned when she recognized the Fae next to her. “Gerwin! What are you doing out here with the rabble?” She placed a hand on Sofi’s wrist. “This is my dearest friend, Sofi. Sofi, this is Eris’ weapon master and all-around savior, Gerwin.”

He bowed slightly. “May I get that glowing compliment in writing? Pleased to meet you.”

Sofi laughed. “Likewise. I always think it’s good to know someone who knows where all the weapons are, in case of emergency.”

“The doors are now open,” droned the lanky Fae. Indeed, they swung open slowly behind him, revealing orchestral music and overlapping conversation. Gerwin shot them a quick wink and entered first, careful to act like a friendly stranger rather than an insider on the biggest secret of the year.

“Are you ready?” Sofi whispered under her breath. She slid her hand into Rhia’s, giving it a quick squeeze. “Last chance to run for the hills.”

Rhia scoffed. “Keep walking.” She forced her breath to come out evenly, slowly, hoping her body wouldn’t betray her by fainting before she even saw him.

The lights seemed even brighter, the music swelling to unprecedented volume, as she took those final steps into the ballroom, her eyes darting across all the irrelevant people and things. She only wanted to look at one person, only wanted to think of one thing tonight.

And then her eyes met his.

---

“Do you think you’ll make a trip to the Southern cities this winter? I spoke with the company maintaining your Milton estate, and it couldn’t be in better condition.” The dark-skinned representative beamed.

Eris attempted to return his enthusiasm. “Possibly. There’s still quite a bit of work to do around here. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, my Lord. Have a wonderful evening.” As the Fae moved towards the dance floor, Eris dared to look back at the closed doors behind him. The official representatives had been let in forty minutes ago, and finally, he could see the end of the greeting line. If he could get through the next two conversations without screaming in frustration, he’d treat himself to the largest drink he could physically hold. Unless she arrived before he made it to the bar, then he’d settle on treating himself with a dance with the love of his life.

“The doors are now open.” The doormale’s voice sent a shot of adrenaline through Eris’ blood, grabbing his attention from the last group of dignitaries from the Dawn Court. His mother’s smile tightened, but her face remained diplomatic as she took over the greeting from her distracted son.

Eris strode away from the politicians and foreigners, away from his role as High Lord. As he walked, his prior thoughts and insecurities rose like a cloud of poison, choking him with doubt. This was the last time he could dream about what would happen when they saw each other’s faces again, the last time he could wonder if she’d come to brighten up his dull palatial life. The last time he could hate himself for offering her a choice to stand by him publicly, as if that wouldn’t put her in danger of scorn and harm.

Eris could barely breathe as he approached the edge of the dance floor. The string octet transitioned to louder music, meant to pull the crowds to their feet and into the arms of a partner. The first line of general guests darted in, chatting excitedly about the extravagance and the notable Fae already in the room.

He truly did stop breathing the moment he saw the tail of a silk golden gown. His eyes raked up the flowing skirt, small sections twisted into rose-like shapes until they reached the tight bodice. Then, his eyes devoured the low neckline and bare shoulders, stopping to note the one sleeve slipping down a smooth, brown arm, mocking the hand he wished to brush down that same arm.

Finally, after several seconds or an eternity, his eyes locked in on the most beautiful face he would ever see. Eris prayed to the Mother that he wouldn’t slip out of consciousness in that moment, when he looked his unbelievably perfect mate in the eye.

Rhia offered him the smallest smile, her hands rising to sit delicately at her stomach. She took a step towards him and--

Eris held back a snarl when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Gerwin mumbled an apology.

“You were standing so still that even I believe this was the moment the bond clicked in,” the weapons master remarked. “I think about half the room has noticed so far.”

“Good.” Eris turned back towards her, towards the angel he would never deserve. And yet, his doubts had completely vanished in her presence, leaving behind only the desire to hold her immediately. “I want them all to see this.”

With a final grin to his best friend, Eris walked across the floor. Fae jumped out of his way, and the gossip increased by a tenfold at his determined pace.

Sofi stood proudly next to her, failing to hold back her grin. She leaned over to whisper something in Rhia’s ear that Eris barely managed to catch. “I think you’ve caught someone’s attention.”

He was now close enough to inhale her scent. Cauldron, he must look like a besotted fool. Luckily, that was his role to play.

“My Lord.” Sofi bowed. Eris shot her a glance that might have appeared disdained to onlookers. She pursed her lips to hold back laughter.

“Have we met?” Eris asked. His tone came off light, casual, hiding the turmoil of love and desire flooding him. “You are absolutely enchanting.”

Rhia blushed and he almost gave in, almost kissed that blush right off her cheeks. “I haven’t had the honor, my Lord.”

“Eris,” he breathed. “To you, always Eris.”

“Rhiannon,” she countered. “Rhia, if you’d like.”

He held out a hand. “Will you do me the honor?”

She took it, and the warmth of her skin blazed across his body. Eris led them out to the dance floor, which had emptied in his journey across it.

The musicians changed their tune mid-note, slowing the tune down until a sweet, romantic song claimed the room. A few cautious couples stepped out from the edges of the crowd, but most of the room stood completely still and held their breaths, straining to figure out who had stolen their High Lord so abruptly.

Eris pulled Rhia close with one hand on her waist, keeping the touch gentle for her comfort. Their intertwined hands rose as their feet moved.

“Why aren’t they dancing?” she asked nervously.

“Don’t look at them. Look at me,” Eris urged. “It’s an old Court tradition, letting the highest ranking nobles have the first dance. They’ll join soon.”

“Why did you ask me to dance?”

He smiled at the question. She was still playing the game. “You must know that you’re the most flawless person in this room. I was wonderstruck.”

That beautiful blush appeared again. “I’ll guess you didn’t pass any mirrors on the way down here, then. I can’t take my eyes off of you.” The hand on his shoulder flexed as Rhia dared to let one finger brush his neck. He shivered.

“Please tell me you felt it too.” Eris’ instincts kept them from crashing into other dancers, since his eyes couldn’t be bothered to leave her face. “Tell me I’m not alone here.”

Passerbyers heard that one. His words spread across the crowd, the gossip faster than his flames ever could.

“Everything vanished when I saw your face,” Rhia replied. Her tone softened, her head tilted. “Yes, I felt it.” She leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “You’ll never be alone again, my love.” The words were murmured too softly for anyone else, an admission that was for him alone.

Gerwin would never let him forget it if he cried in front of everyone, so Eris swallowed back the rage of emotions in his throat. “Thank the Cauldron. Literally, since you’re my-”

A roar of thunder shattered the room, followed by a flash of darkness right in the center of the floor, several feet from where they stood. Some guests screamed, and the guards surged, but Eris merely sighed and held up a hand.

The night black vanished, leaving behind an unfairly attractive couple. The female waved to the crowd, flipping a lock of her raven hair over her shoulder. Her partner stood impassively next to her, his Illyrian wings marking him as obviously other.

Eris inclined his head. “Thank you for coming, Carina.”

[solange-lol]

who is he (and what is he to you?) - ch. 1/3

words: 1,720

solangeloweek day 1: fathers day

read on ao3

Will Solace has never been nervous to travel. 

He used to go on vacations with his mom when they could afford it, although most of those were road trips. Then, when he got older and started working for the magazine company he currently works for, he was sent on all sorts of business trips. Will got used to traveling; used to flying and being in different places every couple of nights.

It’s less the plane ride that he’s nervous for and more the actual reason why he’s going. Yes, it is technically a business trip, but its a business trip to Texas and Will thinks he’s found his father. The one that walked out of their house when he was barely a year old and never looked back. The one that never sent birthday cards or went to Will’s graduation, who didn’t even attempt to contact Will once he was older. 

It was an accident, really, that he found his father. 

Of all things it was an ad on his Instagram feed that popped up, promoting a touring band called Apollo with lead singer Lester Papadopoulos. Seeing his father’s name not spoken from his mother for the first time was a bit of a shock.

The universe had a cruel sense of humor though, or so it seemed, as their gig in Austin, Texas lined up right as Will was headed there for a business trip slash unplanned reunion with his mom. 

The opportunity was at Will’s feet, practically begging him to finally find out what kind of man his father really is. Or more likely, have Will give him a piece of his mind.

“You good?” A voice from behind him came. His coworker and best friend Nico was also assigned this trip with him (like usual, and thank god for that). 

Nico bumps their shoulders together as the two of them board. “Usually I’m the one with plane anxiety.”

Will pushes back his thoughts and replaces them with a smile. “It’s not that. Can’t say I’m completely looking forward to three days of conferencing, though.”

“Tell me about it!” Nico groans, practically throwing back his head as the two of them settled in their seats, preparing for the four-hour flight from New York to Austin. “Last time we were stuck in one of those, I pretended to be taking so many notes but I was just doodling!”

Will laughs. “I remember that one. We played hangman at one point,” he reminds Nico, which just causes him to go onto retelling many stories about conference days. It was one of Nico’s ways of calming down before the plane took off, but also gave Will time to zone off again about his father.

He has the date, location, and time of the bar that Lester and his band were playing at just in case. The thought was burning in the back of his mind just like it had been ever since Will first saw the ad, and he imagines it wasn’t going to leave until Will just sucked it up and faced his deadbeat of a dad. 

“Is your mom still upset that we aren’t staying with her?” Nico asks, pulling Will from his thoughts once again. (Though not completely. Like he said, burning in the back of his mind.)

“I think right now she is, but once we take over her house during the day, demanding food and laundry, she’ll be glad to have the space to herself at night.”

“We are not demanding anything from your mother,” Nico replies indignantly.

“You might change your mind about that once you taste her cookies.”

They’re cut off as the engine begins to roar, and Nico squeezes his eyes shut, grabbing Will’s hand. Even after a few years of working together, he’s still scared of planes. He has the same reaction to every flight. 

Will had offered his hand on their second flight ever together, and every flight since then, to the point in which he just takes it when he feels they’re about to take off. It’s one of their weird business trip traditions.

Will notices an older man eyeing their hands from across the aisle, making him nearly roll his eyes at the guy. For one, they’re not even dating. And if they were, what was the big whoop? Were people still sensitive to two guys holding hands in this day and age? 

It didn’t matter, he supposes, because there was no way Nico was letting go until they reached a level relationship to the ground.

⁠—

Naomi Solace was waiting for them as soon as they got their bags. She had insisted that even while they weren’t staying with her for the trip, the least she could do was provide them some transportation so they wouldn’t have to rent a car.

Nico was visibly uncomfortable, Will could tell. He’s tried explaining multiple times that his mother is the last person to be afraid of as long as you don’t hurt Will or mention his father, neither of which Nico had done. It didn’t help to calm him down though. 

That worry seemed to melt the moment Naomi catches their eyes, immediately waving them over with the brightest smile on her face.

She hugs Will first, of course, who could feel relief spreading through his body when she wraps his arms around him. Even with all the crazy going on around them, it was comforting to know that his mom was there for him. (Not that she knew Will’s other reason for the trip, nor would she. It would crush her, and he can’t handle that right now.)

After she finally lets go of Will, she immediately goes to Nico. Will winces, cursing at himself internally that he hadn’t told his mom that Nico didn’t like to be touched without warning until he realized that he can’t even help but to relax into one of Naomi’s hugs.

The tension had completely dissolved by the time they got to the car, leaving Will to excitedly tell Nico all about the area that he had grown up in.

“Schlitterbahn!” he cries excitedly, causing Nico to give him a confused look.

“Bless you?” he says, more like a question than a statement, causing both Will and Naomi to laugh.

“Not a sneeze,” Will says giddily. “Just the best waterpark ever!”

Nico still looks confused (has he never been to a waterpark?) but he seems content with letting will rediscover his past. Will’s grateful for it, especially considering it takes his mind off his father.

It also makes Will realize something. Something huge, unknown to Nico, and only a select part of the southern experience. He turns to Nico with a near-crazed grin. “Have you ever had Whataburger?”

“Had a what-a-what?” 

“We have to take him there for dinner, mom!” Will’s voice is pitched higher than normal, dripping with pure childlike excitement. Next to him, Naomi’s smile was much more calm, only laughing at her son’s antics

 Meanwhile, Nico looks like he’s almost expecting Naomi to say know. Lord knows how many times Will has refused to go to McDonald’s with Nico for dinner on business trips. That changes as soon as Naomi takes a quick turn into a parking lot. 

Will nearly pulls Nico out of the car as she parks, dragging him towards the bright orange and white doors of the restaurant. 

“I know you’re a devoted McDonald’s fan, but at least give this a try,” he says, walking Nico up to the counter. “I think we might be able to change your mind.”

Once the three order their food, they sit down together at a booth. Will ends up sliding next to his mom rather than Nico, which is a force of habit after many restaurant trips spent sitting across from each other. 

Both Naomi and Will eagerly watched as Nico took the first bite of his burger. He chewed comically slow, making vague facial expressions before swallowing. He pauses, then decides “It’s alright.”

“Alright?” Will nearly yells, trying not to laugh through his words.

Nico’s face breaks out in a grin. “Okay, maybe it’s better than alright. I still think McDonald’s is my number one, though.”

Will rolls his eyes. “We need to get you some new taste buds.”

⁠—

Later, Will flops back happily on the hotel bed. He sighs contentedly as several joints in his back pop, savoring the feeling of resting for the first since they got off the plane. 

After dinner, they gave Nico a quick car tour of the city of Austin before Naomi dropped them off at the hotel they’re staying at. They’ll have plenty of time to explore the city tomorrow after some much needed rest. 

Will hears a soft laugh coming from next to him. He rolls to his side to face Nico, who’s sitting cross-legged on the bed across from him as he bemusedly watches Will stretches.

“Comfortable?” Nico asks, grinning. Will’s taken aback for a moment by how soft his best friend looks at that moment in black sweatpants and a soft gray-green t-shirt. He’s actually very pretty, and for a moment Will wonders what it would be like to cuddle with him.

He shakes that thought away with a smile, dramatically stretching his arms above his head. “Very.”

Nico laughs again, uncrossing his legs and scooching up to the headboard of the bed. “Not quite like my bed at home-”

“But better than some of the others we’ve had,” Will finished, nodding. He mirrors Nico’s actions, sliding under the covers of his own bed and reaching to plug his phone in. He's not really that tired, but he doesn’t want to think about the day ahead of him tomorrow anymore.

“Hope you’re ready for some epic rounds of hangman tomorrow,” Nico says as Will reaches to turn off the lamp next to him. 

He grins in response. “It’s the highlight of these conferences.”

Nico rolls his eyes. “We need to stop agreeing to these trips.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he laughs. “Goodnight, Nico.”

“Goodnight, Will.”

He rolls over, facing away from Nico as he tries to force himself to fall asleep. His mind is still racing, though, overlapping thoughts about his mother and his father, and even Nico himself. 

All he could do was close his eyes until he fitfully fell asleep.

⁠—

solangelo tag list (message to be added/removed)

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[everlarkficexchange]

Everlark Fic Exchange: Masterlist

 Springtime Edition (2020).

The King's Mistress by @eiramrelyat

Prompt 9: Katniss is a commoner and peeta is a cruel king. He wants katniss to be his mistress. How will they fall in love is up to you. [submitted by anonymous] 

Stay with Me Just for Now by @booksrockmyface

Prompt 10: katniss and peeta are best friends who were in a friends w benefits arrangement in the past. now the hunger for each other is coming back. [submitted by anonymous] 

A Quiet Announcement by @albinokittens300​

Prompt 11: in panem au where everlark isn’t reaped and peeta knocks up katniss. [submitted by @sunflowerslyf] 

Prompt #12: by @endlessnightlock

Prompt 12: katniss walks out of the fitting room wearing only a bikini to ask her friend if it suits her but it isnt her friend at the other side of the door but peeta. [submitted by anonymous] 

When You Were Mine by @pitualba2015

Prompt 20: Peeta is the CEO and katniss is his secretary. They have an affair and katniss gets pregnant but when she tells peeta he doesn’t believe her and accuse her of trying to trap him. What will he do when he realize his mistake and how will he win katniss back. [submitted by anonymous] 

Two Households by @everlarkandhistory

Prompt 22: Set in early 20th century. Katniss and Peeta are from two rival families who have been enemies since forever. They have a chance meeting which led to them falling in love. They are completely unaware of their identity. Will their love survive or will their relationship crumble. [submitted by @mysteriouslycraftyreview]

Operation: BREAD (Bring Revenge on Everdeen to Avenge Dad) by @alliswell21

Prompt 23: Rumor: MrEverdeen crossed fence dividing Town and Seam, kidnapped Mrs Everdeen making her his commonlaw wife. Years later, Mellark sons plan to avenge their father by raiding Seam and kidnapping one of Everdeens daughters for one of them to take as a wife! Does Katniss “volunteer,” does she escape, how do the 3 brothers decide what to do with her since they didn’t plan it all out well? [submitted by @567inpanem] 

lying in the bed we made (if it wasn't us) by @archersandsunsets

Prompt 26: the night before the Quarter Quell, in the sleepless dark, Katniss and Peeta allow themselves to indulge in the bittersweet dream of a future they’ll never have together (“if it wasn’t us, what would you do?” “I’d want to marry you” “tell me”) [submitted by @rosegardeninwinter]

The Proper Response by @madetofly

Prompt 29: Post-MJ, Growing Together. Peeta is finally showing his affection and love for Katniss as they heal and reconnect. Katniss, being Katniss, seems to act like she doesn’t appreciate this, and is less than enthused. Peeta, taking this like an adult, stops showing her with the affection and tries to show her his love in other ways. Katniss, however, does not appreciate him stopping those things and set out to try and get him to continue it again because she misses it. [submitted by @albinokittens300] 

All the World's a Stage by @katnissdoesnotfollowback

Prompt 31: “We never see you two so much as kiss in public but last night we all heard you having sex.” Submitted by Buttercupbadass

Misconceptions by @awkwardeverlark

Prompt 35: No reaping AU. At 19, Katniss considers marrying Gale for practical reasons; the fact she just heard the baker’s son toasted and was assigned a house at the edge of town has nothing to do with it... maybe. What happens next? (was Peeta really married or was it his brother? Does she marry Gale? Does Everlark ever talk? Will Peeta cheat if he’s actually married? Can Katniss admit she loves the Boy with the Bread? Is this forbidden love?) is up to you. [submitted by anonymous] 

No One's Gonna Need You More by @ambpersand 

Prompt 36: Frustrated and stressed out Single dad!Peeta needs a fuck desperately. His best friend, Katniss, unwittingly offers to help him out. Things get murky with repressed feelings, but one thing’s certain, Peeta can’t keep his hands to himself anymore and Katniss is all too willing to oblige at the drop of a hat, regardless of place, time and her own emotions, as long as he keeps whispering all his sexy, filthy thoughts into her ear. [submitted by anonymous] 

Vidua by @darkhorse-javert

Prompt 44: Believing that taking a new young bride every 5 years will keep him youthful, Snow arranges to marry wife #12 from D12. In the hours between the ceremony and the wedding night, he drops dead. 16-yr-old Katniss returns to 12 but now she’s “Widow Snow.” Can she ever be Katniss, district huntress again? With all that $, wedding gifts, etc that were sent on the train with her? [submitted by @567inpanem] 

Fortune Favors the Brave by @ambpersand

Prompt 46: Pacific Rim inspired AU with drift compatible Everlark (or not if you’re inspired by angst). I really just want to see more of that aspect of Pacific Rim explored than what they did in the movie and what better way to do it than with Everlark! [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback] 

Fate Takes a Break by @ally147writes

Prompt 50: everlark discovering on their date that they've missed each other their whole lives (living in the same city, went to the same high school, going to the same halloween and nye parties, were set up before by different friends but stood each other up, shopping at the same store, etc.) [submitted by @sunflowerslyf] 

I Choose You by @wendywobbles

Prompt 51: Katniss E, the Valedictorian of Panem High school, is perfect in all fields of life. And that is the crush of awkward, average in studies, not so popular, never had a girlfriend, often bullied Peeta M. Not only does she have a very popular friend circle but also a handsome, popular boyfriend Gale H. Will she even want to be his friend? Is his crush doomed to fail? Eventual Everlark. [submitted by @white-dandelion-seeds] 

The Change by @alliswell21

Prompt 59: Growing up Peeta started loving her. It was a gradual thing that happened throughout his childhood and into his teens. But something changes when he hits puberty. Her scent has heightened, he can spot her from miles away. He gets a bit possessive. But the biggest thing is when his body starts to heat up and even just the thought of you gets him hard for days. He finds out the family secret of his werewolf genes, something his parents thought passed him. How can he go by with his day and be with her without scaring her away by humping her because of his heat. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

By The Moonlight Side by @endlessnightlock

Chapter 2

Prompt 61: Peeta knew better, but he did stupid things when he got drunk. Now he’s caged at the animal shelter in his wolf form. And, omg, Katniss Everdeen let her little sister drag her in to see the dogs?! He knows he shouldn’t, but teen hormones. He just wants to lick her hand. Get a tummy rub. Hump her leg. Sleep on her bed. Omg, they take him home!!!! He needs to let his dad know where he is. Omg. He needs to figure out his bakery shift. “God, don’t let Katniss catch me licking my balls.” [submitted by @567inpanem]

Maybe Tomorrow by @katnissdoesnotfollowback​

Prompt 62: one night stand!everlark sleeping together the same night a terrible snowstorm hits the city and everything gets shut down with no way to get home. perhaps a two night stand? [submitted by anonymous] 

Genesis  by @rosegardeninwinter

Prompt 66: Everlark post apocalypse, katniss and peeta are neighbors and the only two that make it to katniss's father's bunker in time. Over the course of several years the two have grown quite close having no one else, but now provisions are running low. Do they face the unknown outside or stay put, knowing they only have food to last another week? [sent by anonymous]

Sunset on Grass by @alliswell21

Prompt 67: Her parents said that it was just a childhood crush and that she will outgrow it. But why does her heart flutters. When she’s finally old enough to get a job, she immediately gets a part time job to be close to him. Will is pursue her love against people’s negative views because he’s so much older than her. Or go for it and make him fall in love with her. Age Gap Older!Peeta. [submitted by @animekpopxx] 

A Taste of Rebellion by @acpoe82

Prompt 68: Dark Coffee Shop AU - Capitol Peeta runs a Coffee/Pastry shop in the poshest part of the Capitol. Near by President Snow’s Mansion. Capitol!Katniss is a frequent customer. Things in the Capitol begin to deteriorate as the rebellion drags on. Are they sympathetic to the rebel cause? [submitted by @oakfarmer12] 

You're Not Alone by @sunsetsrmydreams

Prompt 70: Peeta picks up a hitchhiker in the mountains one night, only to find it's his childhood best friend and now escaped convict Katniss Everdeen. In a panic he calls police but after hearing her side of the story comes to believe she didn't actually murder anyone. Everlark on the run. [submitted by anonymous]

Forever and a day... by @thegirlfromoverthepond

Prompt 73: I am a simple woman: I just want Katniss Everdeen content and loved and washed in moonlight I don’t care how you do it. [submitted by @rosegardeninwinter] 

The Most Unlikely Serendipity by @albinokittens300

PART 2, PART 3, PART 4

Prompt 75: An in-Panem arranged marriage a/u where Katniss is slightly older than Peeta. [submitted by @endlessnightlock] 

Shots Make Me Sing by @sunsetsrmydreams

Prompt 81: Katniss finds her soulmate at her bachelorette party (aka Peeta)(Happy ending please) [submitted by anonymous] 

when we’re underneath the lights my heart’s no longer broken by @omercilessmoon

Prompt 92: High school musical au: katniss and peeta as troy and Gabriella. [submitted by anonymous] 

December nights in June by @viloula

Prompt 110: AU. Everlark live across from each other in fancy New York (or the like) penthouses. With all those large windows, they see each other daily and know the other's routine and all he/she does, but they've never met. A chance meeting occurs. What will happen? The circumstances of their living arrangements/any backstory and what happens between them is up to you. [submitted by @acpoe82]

High Heels at Midnight by @hutchhitched

Prompt 134: Visual Prompt. To see it go HERE [submitted by @javistg] 

must work hard, tolerate cats by @mendontprotectyou

Prompt 140: In Panem AU where Peeta is a Mail Order Husband. As the youngest son of a merchant class Capitol family, he has accepted he will never inherit the family bakery. But when his family contract him to an arranged marriage to further the business he will never own, he escapes by signing up to a programme to relocate and marry a district woman. Why Katniss needs a husband, is up to the author. Everlark endgame :) [submitted by @louezem]

Notes: 

Fics organized by prompt number. 

Masterlist compiled on May 11, 2020. Subject to change. New works will be added as they’re posted to the @everlarkficexchange. 

Looking for updated versions of the multi-chapter fics? Try our AO3 Collection 

[visenyatargaryn]

Once, she had been a wife, a mother… someone who had finally found their happily ever after. However, that all came crashing down once the bombs fell and her once beautiful life turned into ashes before her eyes. After being the only survivor from Vault 111, Evangeline made her way into what was now known as the Commonwealth with one mission in mind:

To find her son and get revenge on the bastard who murdered her husband.

With the ongoing search, Evangeline eventually found herself in one particular neighborhood where she would meet a peculiarly dressed ghoul who—unbeknownst to her, would become the one to drag her out of her ever-growing darkness and back into the light. However, will it be enough to find her son? To save him from the clutches of the Institute? Or will she forever lose the last thing that brought happiness to her?

CHAPTER THREE || Drown Your Sorrows || M || 2555 words || ao3

With the help of an old acquaintance, Evangeline and the synth detective—Nick Valentine, both uncover a clue that helped them gain a step closer in answering a long-awaited question. The location of the Institute. However, to achieve such an accomplishment, Evangeline would have to trek across an extremely dangerous area. A place where many don't survive, and if they do... they turn into ghouls—if they're lucky.

Later, Evangeline finds herself wanting to forget painful memories that had been resurfaced after delving into the memories of the infamous mercenary—Kellogg. To do just that, she ends up in the only place in Goodneighbor that has what Evangeline needs—The Third Rail.

Even with all the stimpaks, it had taken Evangeline a month to recover from her injuries. Her condition had been a lot worse than she realized, and band-aids don’t necessarily fix bullet holes—or broken bones for that matter. She had refused to take any chems to relieve the pain, afraid that it would make her addicted, but instead took it from the bottle—which, in a way, wasn’t much better.

While she was bedridden for the first week, Hancock had kept her company for the most part. He asked her an endless amount of questions about who she was and where she came from—innocent questions that she could easily answer. At some point, Evangeline felt that she could begin to trust the strange ghoul who had taken her in, so she told Hancock her secret—that she had been alive before the war. At first, he was hesitant to believe her, skeptical if she was bluffing or not, but soon realized that Evangeline was telling the truth. This led to even more questions that would need answered—things that she would have instead kept buried deep within. Still, she told him enough to pique his interest and nothing more.

Eventually, Hancock had finally sent word to her about Nick Valentine’s arrival and that she would find him waiting for her at the Memory Den. Since her leg had not fully recovered yet, she had to use a crutch to get places beyond a couple of steps. Evangeline found it quite troublesome, especially when it came to trekking down the Old State House's spiral staircase—which almost ended in disaster on multiple occasions. After meeting up with the synth detective, they talked to Doctor Amari about their situation and how they needed Kellogg's memories—to locate the Institute's location. At first, she refused while not wanting to take any part in desecrating the dead, but eventually changed her mind once Evangeline showed her the augmenter that she had found attached to Kellogg’s head—or brain to be more precise.

After Doctor Amari examined it, she then wired it into Nick’s interface with the implant in hand to find that it had been encrypted—a failsafe to protect the Institute’s secrets. After their original plan had dissolved, Amari had another idea. She told them that to decrypt the memories, it would require two minds instead of one. Without a second thought, Evangeline agreed—not once considering the potential dangers that may put her at risk. If it meant finding her son, though, then it was worth it—no matter the cost. Evangeline, along with Nick, hopped into the Memory Lounges to finally find the answer to a long-awaited question.

While she explored Kellogg’s memories, Evangeline realized that the merc was not so different from herself. They both had fathers that hardly loved them and later lost those that meant the world to them. She couldn’t help but wonder if she would have followed the same path had Shaun met the same fate as her husband. Would she, too, be a cold-blooded killer? Or would she have taken a different route entirely? In the end, it was too late to dwell on such thoughts as Kellogg was now dead, and she was the one still drawing breath.

Once they had found what they were looking for—that the Institute was using teleportation as a means to enter their facility, she headed upstairs to discuss everything with Nick. She needed to head into the Glowing Sea to find this rogue scientist—Virgil, who used to work for the Institute. It was a treacherous territory, as it was a place that produced enough radiation to either kill someone—or turn them into a ghoul. Nick offered to tag along, but Evangeline refused, knowing that his place was in Diamond City, where the people needed him more.

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

After a couple of weeks had passed since her walk through memory lane, Evangeline decided to finally explore Goodneighbor. Her curiosity about the little neighborhood getting the best of her. It seemed like nothing of importance from outside the walls, but once inside, one would never guess the two were the same. The interior of the place reminded Evangeline of a time where she still bore a hint of innocence—when she worked at the dance club in Philadelphia not long after graduation. Its neon lights, rundown atmosphere, and intoxicating smell brought back many memories. The smell itself was a mixture of sex, chems, and alcohol—an unpleasant combination, she thought.

One evening, Evangeline found herself at the Third Rail after being in a foul mood all day. It was a fine establishment, considering it was built into an old subway station. The music was beautiful, as was the woman singing it—who wore a red sequin dress and had short dark hair that came just above her shoulders. Making her way through the crowd, Evangeline could hear the patrons' whispers as she passed by them.

“That’s the woman the Mayor killed Finn for..” she heard one man say to someone.

“What makes her so special that he had to put down one of our best fighters?” another asked.

Most of the comments were about how Hancock had saved her life, while others were viler. Those ones, in particular, made her skin crawl. Finally making her way to the bar, Evangeline found an empty seat where she settled herself into.

“So what’ll it be?” a gruff voice asked.

Evangeline had not expected the bartender to be a Mr. Handy since she came by so few during her travels. It appeared to be the same make and model as Codsworth was, except that this one had a British accent and wasn’t as friendly.

“Whiskey,” she answered.

She watched as the robot poured a glass of the substance in front of her. It was one of her go-to drinks, especially when she was having a bad day. Picking up the glass, Evangeline swirled the amber liquid around before taking a sip. The beverage burned as it made its way down her throat, which then engulfed her body in a blanket of warmth.

Looking around, she noticed that most of the patrons there were ghouls—men and women alike. At first, it surprised her to see this many in one general area, but then later realized that Goodneighbor must be a sort of sanctuary for them. It was no surprise to her, given how most of the Commonwealth held a disliking towards them. In the crowd, Evangeline spotted an all-too-familiar face across the room. Hancock was sitting on a couch that had seen better years with two attractive women sitting relatively close—one of which was sitting on his lap. Enough hands were wandering to give one the idea of their intentions by the end of the night. The three of them seemed to be having a good time. She also noticed that their table was littered with empty containers of jet, mentats, and alcohol bottles.

A sinking feeling settled into the pit of her stomach as she watched them. They were all smiles and laughter, as was everyone else in the room, and here she was—sitting alone and miserable as ever. Evangeline had not felt more out of place than she did at this moment.

“You look like you could use some company,” a voice came from beside her.

Taking the empty barstool next to her was a man with handsome features. He had pale blue eyes and hair, the color of sand. Evangeline didn’t know who he was or what he wanted—which made her be even more on edge than usual.

“Go away,” Evangeline said plainly. She was in no mood for conversation and preferred to be left alone, even if he was easy on the eyes.

“C’mon now, darlin’. That’s no way to treat a friendly face,” he said, not taking heed to her words.

Admittedly, Evangeline knew that she was quick to judge. However, she had dealt with enough monsters in her lifespan to know the worst ones were always those who didn’t look the part. Sure enough, Evangeline felt him place his hand on her knee, which caused a sick feeling within her from the interaction.

She closed her eyes, wishing to be elsewhere.

Evangeline recalled being in a similar situation many years ago, about a year after being employed at the strip district's dance club. Evangeline had been sitting alone at the bar during one of her breaks, drowning herself in a bottle of whiskey, when a middle-aged man approached her. He wanted only one thing from her—as all men did, and it had terrified her. Evangeline told him no countless times, hoping it would make him go away. However, it only seemed to make him more persistent. Thankfully, before it could go any further, one of the girls of the establishment had put a stop to his unwanted advances.

“Take your fucking hand off of me,” Evangeline said slowly, with a bite of irritation in her tone.

The man beside her laughed. “Or what? Look around you, sweetheart. Ain’t nobody gonna save you. You’re just another stray Hancock has taken in, and nothing more.”

The words hit harder than Evangeline cared to admit. A stray—that was something she had always been—someone with no place to call home. Someone who had always been a poor, helpless, unfortunate soul that others looked upon with pity. Maybe he was right, she thought miserably. Maybe I am nothing more than just another stray looking for a handout. Evangeline shook her head as if to rid herself of such thoughts. Perhaps she was a stray, but she wasn’t nothing, no—she had never been nothing. Evangeline had made a name for herself before the war. She had been considered one of the greatest detectives that Boston had ever seen.

But what use was that now?

She took another drink from her glass, only to find out that it was empty. Evangeline swore under her breath. If she was to deal with this asshole, then she was going to need more whiskey. Signaling the barkeep for another drink, Evangeline looked to where she had last seen Hancock. Unfortunately, the spot he had been sitting was now empty with neither him nor his companions in sight. Evangeline didn’t necessarily need his help, but because she knew next to nobody here—it would have eased her mind a little if he were still present.

Evangeline took a swig of whiskey—emptying the glass entirely, and sat it down on the counter hard. “Listen, I don’t know who you are, nor do I fucking care. I just want to be left the fuck alone, okay?”

What patience she had was currently wearing thin as a throbbing pain began to form at her temple. Evangeline decided she should turn in for the night and sleep off the headache—and to rid herself of the unwanted company. Pushing the glass away, she stood and placed a handful of caps on the counter.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he asked, grabbing ahold of her wrist. “We ain’t done yet.”

She whipped around and struck him, causing him to stumble off the barstool and hit the ground hard with a clash. Evangeline didn’t bother to see if he was okay—not that she cared either way, as she wanted to make herself scarce. The entire room had fallen silent, and everyone’s attention now fell upon the commotion that had just occurred. Making her way through the crowd, Evangeline could feel her heart pounding in her chest—fearing that it may actually burst from its cavity. However, she dared not show an ounce of fear because Evangeline knew a place such as Goodneighbor—would be a death sentence. She was currently a lamb that found its way inside a lion’s den and was awaiting the inevitable slaughter.

Once outside, a chill went through her as she stepped out into the crisp night air. Tugging her jacket tighter, Evangeline started off toward The Hotel Rexford to rent out a room for the night. Evangeline had a feeling that Hancock was currently entertaining his companions from earlier, and she would rather not walk in on that. Besides, it wasn’t like Evangeline had to sleep there, and she knew her absence would not go noticed anyway—as it always has.

Upon entering the old hotel, a musty odor of over-aged furniture and stale tobacco filled the air. Surveying the place, Evangeline saw pieces of faded-yellow wallpaper peeling away from years of neglect. At the front desk was a short elderly woman with dark skin who was in deep conversation with a tall, dark-haired man who wore a high-quality suit. Evangeline knew she shouldn’t interrupt the two, but she was tired and needed somewhere to cope with tonight’s events. Her footsteps echoed over the wooden floor as she made her way to the desk, which caused them both to look up.

“Umm, excuse me?” Evangeline said meekly, giving them both her best smile. “I was hoping I could get a room here…”

The dark-haired man whispered something into the woman’s ear before taking his leave, who then gave Evangeline her full attention.

“Alright, that’ll be ten caps,” she said plainly.

“Thank you,” Evangeline said as she exchanged what was left of her caps for the keys to the room.

“It’s on the second floor, the last door on the right,” the receptionist called after her as she headed towards the stairs.

Once inside her room, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it. Evangeline realized she was shaking. Whether it was from the cold or what had happened tonight, she wasn’t sure—perhaps both? It also occurred to her that she had now made an enemy here and wasn’t sure what that meant—would Hancock throw her out because she harmed one of his own? What Evangeline did know, however, was that she now had to be extra careful because she knew damned well that he would want revenge for what she had done.

In truth, she hated it here, not just in Goodneighbor but in the Commonwealth's entirety. Evangeline wanted her old life back. She was so tired of always hurting. She wanted to laugh again, to be happy once more—to not be wary of everyone she met. To be able to walk the streets of Boston without having to constantly look over her shoulder out of fear.

Letting out a shaky breath, Evangeline sluggishly made her way over to the dresser where a bottle of vodka was sitting. Taking off her jacket, she grabbed the bottle and took a long drink from it. By the time Evangeline was finished, she felt a bit woozy—enough that she had to use the dresser for support. Placing the bottle back on the dresser, she stumbled over to the bed and sat on the mattress. It creaked under her weight as she laid down—curling herself in a ball. However, there were no blankets, but Evangeline was grateful that at least the room was quite warm. While she laid there, Evangeline tried not to think about the man from the bar or her current situation as she closed her eyes, falling into a dreamless sleep.

[a-libra-writes]

Imagine being the childhood friend of Robb, Jon and Theon

Because these are my sons and i love them but theyre fuckin dorks. everything will be fine probably

Fluff and some angst under the cut!

> You were the daughter of Ned's finest knight, and you both lived in Winterfell with your mother. While she raised you to dress and speak well, you often found yourself out of place with Lady Sansa and her friends. Thus, you ended up befriending Jon first, as he seemed just as out of place as you.

> He was shy at first, but you two quickly built a friendship by exploring the nooks and crannies of Winterfell. Theon caught you two one day, and being older decided to tease Jon, but you stood up to him. He began following you and Jon's adventures because he was "bored", but began to genuinely stick around because you were kind to him.

>Robb and Jon got along well as boys, so it didn't take long for him to tag along. The four of you would play in the godswood, Robb and Jon usually playing with stick swords while you snuck behind one of them for a "surprise attack!", while Theon pretended to be above "kiddy games" and ended up getting chased and tackled by the three of you.

>You were taught many practical skills by your parents, but you were best at mending clothes and first aid. You began to bring needle and thread when you hung out with the boys, because they inevitably would rip something, or one of them would fall over and cut himself. 

>Robb knew he was supposed to visit Maester Luwin if he was hurt, but he always saw you first. He liked it when you mended his clothes, and he blushed silly when you asked to embroider a little direwolf over one of the holes in his sleeve. You wanted the practice, and he couldn't say no. Catlyn noticed it much later and asked him about it, which made Robb blush to his ears. He made an excuse and left, leaving a confused Catlyn and a very amused Ned.

>Jon often squirmed and complained when you tried to tend to his cuts. He didn't often get them, but when he did, they were pretty bad and you'd drag him to the Maester. He liked it when you fixed his clothes, and one of his favorite things was a scarf you knitted. You told him you were learning and he encouraged you, even if the end result was … something. You wanted to throw it out, but Jon kept and wore the misshapen scarf to make you feel better.

>Initially, Theon wasn't as nice as Robb or Jon. Sometimes he'd be a jerk and scare you with stories of Ironborn crossing the seas to burn down keeps and steal rude knight's daughters. He didn't really soften up to you until one day, when a bunch of stableboys were pushing you and yanking your hair. Theon told them to fuck off, and they did the same, calling him 'the Greyjoy' as an insult. You immediately shouted, "That's right, he's an Ironborn! And he'll get a big ship, drag you out of bed and throw your stupid arses overboard!" Then you hit one square in the face with a rock and made him run crying. Theon doubled over laughing and you kept yelling, assuming he was making fun of you. After that he finally treated you less like an annoying tag along girl and more of a friend.

>As you grew older, your father tried to discourage your relationships, fearing it wasn't appropriate and that it would upset the Lord and Lady Starks. It was frustrating and pissed you off, as you were just friends with the three boys. Yup. Just friends. No teenage hormonal feelings here.

>Robb often used courtesies around you, treating you like a lady, and you'd just smile and remind him that you hardly counted. But Robb thought your kindness, beauty and resourcefulness made you the picture of a lady - well, in his mind - especially when you were dressed up for a feast. He often found himself avoiding the other young ladies at feasts and seeking you out to joke and talk. When you two finally danced, a suggestion you made as a joke, he realized just how far gone his crush was. 

>You knew how Jon felt about his bastardy, so you did your best to keep his mind off it. Still, there were some days when he'd be sullen and hide off on his own. You knew those were days that Lady Stark said something hurtful, so you'd grab him some pastries or - if you were feeling daring - fruit from the South. Jon was convinced you were part shadowcat, the way you'd sneak through the kitchens, then sneak up on him and shout in surprise. You two would climb up trees in the godswood and enjoy your stolen treats, sometimes talking, sometimes not (often him stealing glances at how pretty you looked against the sunset).

>At some point, Theon decided it was better to hang out with you alone. So instead of asking like a normal person, he made his own game of "stealing" you from Robb or Jon. He'd show up, claiming your mother needed you or he had to show you something, then you two would just walk around Winterfell or the town. He succeeded in this six times before you told him to just ask you to go somewhere. Although, you appreciated the moments when your mother was forcing you to attend the septa's lessons and Theon would show up with a sudden "Oh Y/N, your father needs to ask you something important". Five minutes later you two would be joking at the practice range or in the castle town.

>Robb knew he'd have to marry a highborn lady, likely from a powerful house. He was told this his whole life, but now he was seeing the reality of it. You were a knight's daughter. You would never even be considered for a bride, and this stung him more than he wanted to admit. He liked acting like the Stark heir around you because he wanted to impress you, but then it would remind him of the large gap between your statuses. 

>Similarly, Jon often followed you like a puppy. His crush was obvious to anyone, and he knew it, but he thought you deserved better. Even if you treated him the same as Robb, Jon felt like an amazing girl like you shouldn't be involved with a bastard. Some days he felt like he didn't even deserve your friendship, though he cherished it.

>Being a perfectly mature teenage boy, Theon liked doing dumb shit to make you notice him. He'd gently tug on your hair or your dress, try to spook you while you were sewing or distract you while you were studying. He thought your anger was pretty cute, and tried not to get butterflies on the days you just smiled and rolled your eyes. When he started frequenting whores, he began to gravitate to ones with your hair color. 

>When Jon told you he was going to the wall, you understood and respected his decision, but it still hurt. On the day he was leaving, you presented him with a new scarf - one you worked tirelessly on, made of the warmest wool you dyed black yourself. He gave you a hug so tight you thought you'd never catch your breath, and then he left. On the way to the wall, even though it was cold, he delayed putting the scarf on because he didn't want it to lose your smell. 

>Since he was the lord of Winterfell, suddenly Robb couldn't talk with knight's daughters whenever he wanted. But when news came of Ned Stark's imprisonment, and Robb called the banners, you immediately thought of him. Decorum be damned, you found him in the Godswood and you tried to keep your voice steady as you said, "Look after my father when you go, and look after yourself. I won't be there to help if you fall on your face." You were trying to be funny, but it broke Robb's heart to hear you like that. He wrapped you up in a warm hug and buried his face in your hair, and you two stayed like that for some time. When you finally nudged him to part, he said, "I promise I'll come back safe to you, Y/N." 

>By this point, you felt like your happy childhood memories were distant and almost foreign. The coming war had everyone's nerves on end. Theon played at indifference, but you knew he had to be just as worried as Robb. You finally found him as he was readying to ride South. "Make sure you look after yourself, and Robb, too. Drink plenty of water and don't do anything foolish --" Suddenly, he cut you off with a kiss. You would've smacked him away, but he quickly pulled away and said, "You worry too much, sweet Y/N. This will be over before you know it."

>All these promises and assurances, and you still felt tense. You had a premonition as you watched the war hosts leave. You watched until the direwolf banner was just a speck, and the last banner moved farther and farther away.