#i hope that despite the sadness my mom comes to watch it again down the line

[yellowsubiesdance]

watched all of fleabag again, this time with me mum

[luveline]

Would u ever write about early days kbd! Steve and reader?? Maybe newly married or finding out about being pregnant for one of their babies?? I just love them so much ♡

kisses before dinner au —mom!reader, 1k

“I’m just gonna go to the bathroom really quickly and then I’m leaving,” you call. 

Steve calls back. “Okay, babe. Avery, say bye to mommy! Can you say bye? How about you, Beth?” 

Avery calls a happy goodbye. Beth babbles unintelligibly. I’ll say goodbye in a second, you think, slinking into the bathroom with a plan in mind. 

You bend down under the sink where you keep things that wouldn’t hurt anybody should they get pulled out; ointment for wet rash, diapers, and the little disposable pregnancy tests for emergencies. 

You and Steve are careful after your lovely first Avery. She’d been a surprise, and you weren’t willing to be blindsided again, but now that you’re actively trying the more expensive pregnancy tests have been taken upstairs and in tens. How many have you taken in the last three or four months? Too many to count, and the latest only last night. 

The test said negative, but you’ve been pregnant twice already. You know what it feels like. You’d woken up this morning and turned to watch Steve still sleeping, and you’d thought about waking him, but you didn’t want to get his hopes up again without knowing for sure. 

You let the test develop on the sink, contemplative, drying your washed hands slowly. You can hear Steve laughing like a kid in the kitchen, Bethie’s infectious baby laughter quick to follow. 

Avery shouts something like, “Stop, dad!” but you’re not sure what they’re fighting about. 

Trying for a baby is fun. It’s stressful, sure, but you enjoy the process (whoops) and there’s something so hopeful about waiting to see when it’ll happen. Steve is doubly excited, his anticipation contagious, and you want another baby so much you’ve started buying baby clothes, a wardrobe full of onesies and you’re stuffing in new socks and footie pyjamas every other day. You’ve even picked out the new wallpaper for the nursery. 

You really, really want another baby. 

The test finishes developing. You stare at it until your eyes cloud with tears. 

Last night, you took a test that didn’t come out with anything. Steve hadn’t baulked. He never does. He’d given you a short kiss and a longer hug, whispered, “It’s okay, we’ll just have to try again,” into your hair. 

You can’t help yourself. You grab the test and sweep out of the bathroom down the hallway to the kitchen. Bethie’s eyes glow when she sees you, her small arms held out to you waiting to be picked up. 

You’re very very sorry, but you throw yourself at Steve instead. 

“Hey!” he laughs, pushing you away. “I’m covered in sugar!” 

You wrap your arms behind his neck, “I don’t care!” 

“What?” he asks, totally perplexed. Then, despite his confusion, Steve hugs you tight and lets out a contented sigh. “Why are we so happy?” 

You make some space between you again to show him the test. His hand comes up under yours slowly, bigger, often gentler, cupping your fingers as he bends down to see it. “Oh,” he says. He falls quiet for a few seconds. 

When he looks up, he’s smiling. “Honey!” His smile abruptly catches, tears filling his eyes. “Oh my god.” 

“No, don’t,” you say, your voice wobbling. 

Steve tries to pick you up and spin you around, but there’s no room and you’re too heavy, too sure-footed, arms around his neck and kissing up his cheek. “You’re acting like I’m the one pregnant!” he says, fighting to kiss your cheek instead. “I’m so happy,” —he kisses you— “I could die,” —his lips press rough to the highest point of your cheek— “I could cry!” 

“You are crying,” you laugh wetly. 

Tears rush down his cheeks. “Three is so many.” 

“What? Don’t say that.” You wince as Bethie starts crying. “She thinks that too.” 

Steve picks Bethie up from her high chair and Avery in all her little Steve-ness gives you a brown eyed, doe-wide smile, pointing at your face. “Sad,” she says. “You’m crying, mom.” 

“I’m not–“ You wipe your cheeks with the backs of your hands. “I’m not sad, babe, I’m happy! Mommy’s so happy! It’s making me cry because I’m super happy, I’m not sad.” You smile at her sweetly. “Do I look sad, my love?” 

“Up, mommy,” she says, lifting her hands. You pick her up and laugh another round of tears down your cheeks as she starts to wipe them away. “Happy.” 

“Extremely happy,” Steve says. 

“Dad, you–” She looks between you both with a cartoonish frown. “Dad cry too?

“We are both so happy,” you say. 

Avery mumbles some strange garble of words in her high voice, and then asks more clearly for her buppy. Steve starts to open one of her bottles but his tears suddenly escalate, and he can’t see enough to finish pouring in her formula. 

“We’re having another baby,” he says to you. 

You breathe in a much needed breath. “Yeah, H. Another baby.” 

He passes you Beth, forcing you to manage both of the girls in your arms, and gets about halfway down the hall before he whoops loud enough to make you jump. 

“Okay,” he says, jogging back. “Can I call Robin? I’m so fucking excited.” 

You dot kisses against small foreheads. “We can tell, can’t we?” you ask, to Avery’s amusement. 

“Can tell, dad!” she parrots. 

Steve grabs you and pulls the three of you into an ironclad embrace. “I love you,” he says, much quieter now. You honestly don’t need him to tell you, you can feel it in every moment you spend together, but you take the confession greedily. 

“Yeah?” 

“Too much,” he says. He starts kissing you again, an overflowing heap of them, until the girls are too jealous to speak and you’re as late for work as you’ve ever been. 

[earthtoharlow]

Teach Me: First Comes Love…

Series Masterlist

Urban took photos as he watched Jack work and nodded his head to whatever beat he was playing in his head but he couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his pocket.

With a knowing grin, he nudged Jack and raised an eyebrow. “So, buddy, when are you gonna pop the question?”

Jack sighed, his shoulders slumping as he leaned back in his chair. “I’ve been trying, Urb. But every time I muster up the courage, something goes wrong, and the moment is ruined.”

Urban chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “You? Mr. Cool and Collected? I find that hard to believe!”

Jack rolled his eyes playfully, and thought about all the times he tried to propose to Ariel.

Jack had a meeting in New York and since it was spring break they decided to turn it into a weekend trip. Jayla was a couple feet in front of them as they strolled through Central Park. His heart was pounding in his chest as he reached in his pocket to make sure the velvet box that seemed to be glued to his pocket was still there.

“Ariel, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

But just as he was about to pop the question, a small brown puppy ran towards Jayla, startling Ariel. “Did you see that?!” she exclaimed, completely oblivious to Jack’s intentions. She skipped over to Jayla who was now playing with the dog in the grass.

Not being a big fan of dogs, Jack signed and he tucked the ring back into his pocket, saving it for another time.

Ariel gasped in delight, bending down to pet the adorable pup. “Oh my goodness, look at this little baby!”

“She’s so cute! I wonder where she came from.” Jayla laughed as the puppy licked her face. “Can we keep her, Mom? Please?”

Ariel knew how Jack felt about dogs or pets in general but the way the puppy cuddled closer to them, eyes wide and hopeful she couldn’t leave them there sad and alone at the park.

When she looked up at Jack, all he could do was sigh and give a slight nod. He would never hear the end of it if he said no.

“I think we just found our newest family member,” Ariel said with a smile.

“Oh so that’s how you guys found Princess Lou Lou!” Urban remarked as Jack finished the story and right on que, Lou Lou scratched at Jack’s legs wanting to be picked up.

Jack reached down and grabbed her, giving her a kiss in the head. “Yes, she’s been a cock blocker since day one!”

He reached in his pocket and pulled out the ring once more. “Just last week I tried to ask her during date night and the waitress interrupted us.”

Urban laughed a little. “Only you, man. But hey, third time’s the charm, right?”!

Despite his frustration, Jack couldn’t help but chuckle at the craziness of it all. “Let’s hope so, Urb. Let’s hope so.”

***

Later that night as Jack laid beside Ariel in bed, the bedside lamp casted a warm light over her face. Jack couldn’t help but marvel over her beauty. She looked so beautiful, just as she did the day they met. Ariel laid there with no makeup on, her dorky reading glasses perched on her nose as she skimmed through the pages of the book.

Jack reached out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. “You look beautiful, Ariel,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

Ariel looked up from her book, a smile spreading across her face at her words. “Really?” She asked, Jack’s words never failed to make her face warm.

He nodded, his heart swelling with love. “Absolutely. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, especially with those dorky reading glasses.”

Ariel laughed and grabbed the extra pillow of the bed and swatted him with it, Jack dodged out the way just in time.

“Well, thank you, I think,” she teased, playfully nudging him with her elbow, and picked up her book again to finish reading.

Jack continued to stare as she read and he realized just how lucky he was that she came into his and Jayla’s life. Despite the ring being hidden in the sock drawer, he could still feel its presence in his thoughts.

Ariel was his soulmate, his partner in life, his one true love and he couldn’t wait any longer to ask her to be his wife.

Without a formal plan or the ring in hand, Jack blurted out the words that had been weighing on his heart for months. “Ariel, I love you. Will you marry me?”

Ariel froze in place, eyes widened as she looked up from her book and towards Jack. “Jack, are you being serious?”

He nodded nervously, unable to tear his gaze away from her. “Completely serious. I’ve been carrying this ring around for months, waiting for the perfect moment. But tonight, right now, with you looking at me like that… This is the perfect moment.”

Tears welled up in Ariel’s eyes before she tossed her book aside and threw her arms around Jack nodding vigorously. “Yes yes yes! I’ll marry you!!”

Jack couldn’t contain his happiness, and held her as if he never wanted to let go. He pulled back slightly cupping Ariel’s face in his hands, and gazed into her eyes, his heart bursting with love.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and passion. “I love you more than words can express, Ariel. You mean everything to me. You’ve changed my life.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, savoring the moment.

***

Ariel stirred awake, and felt a weight on her hand. When she opened her eyes she gasped at the beautiful ring, Jack must’ve slipped it on in the middle of the night.

Unable to contain her excitement, she gently shook Jack awake. “Jack.” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion, “I still can’t believe it. This ring is gorgeous!”

Jack blinked sleepily, a smile spreading across his face as he realized what she was talking about. “Believe it, Ariel. You’re going to be my wife.”

A surge of happiness washed over Ariel as she leaned in to kiss him. “I don’t want a huge wedding, Jack. I just want to be married to you already.”

His eyes sparkled with excitement as he sat up, his mind racing with possibilities. “Well, why wait? Should we get dressed and wake Jayla up and head to the courthouse today?”

Ariel’s heart skipped a beat at the suggestion, eyes lighting up immediately. “Yes, let’s do it!”

They both leaped out of bed, the room buzzing with excitement. Just as Ariel was about to step into the bathroom, Jack stopped her from the bedroom door.

He turned to her, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Should we call Urban?” he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Ariel’s heart swelled with love for him, knowing how much his best friend meant to him. Despite their decision to just go to the courthouse, she understood that Jack would regret not having Urban by his side on such an important day.

With a gentle smile, she nodded. “Of course, we should. It wouldn’t be the same without him.”

Jack’s face lit up with gratitude as he reached for his phone, dialing his number with eager anticipation. After a few rings, Urban answered, his voice filled with excitement.

“Urban, I need you to meet me at the courthouse in 2 hours!” Jack exclaimed.

“What huh?”

“Ariel and I just got engaged, and we’re planning to tie the knot soon. We’d love for you to be there with us.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line before Urban's voice broke through, filled with emotion. “Are you serious? I wouldn’t miss it for the world, man. I’ll be there.”

As Jack hung up the phone, a sense of relief washed over him knowing that his best friend would be there. He hurries to Jayla’s room to wake her up.

“Daddy, why are you waking me up before 10am on the weekend!” Jayla whined.

All he could do was laugh at his daughter. “If you don’t want to get up, I’ll guess you’ll have to miss mommy and I getting married.” Jack teased playfully.

Jayla stirred from her sleep, blinking her eyes groggily before realizing what her dad had just said. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she shot up in bed, excitement and disbelief washing over her.

“What? Really?” she exclaimed, her voice filled with astonishment.

Jack nodded with a grin, his heart swelling with love for his daughter. “Yep, really. We’re getting married, Jay. And of course we need you there.”

Her face lit up with pure joy as she threw her arms around her dad, a smile stretching from ear to ear. “That’s amazing, Daddy! Of course, I want to be there!”

As Jack left Jayla’s room to start getting ready himself in the guest bedroom he tried his hardest to not get super emotional but he couldn’t help it.

When Alyssa died it had left him feeling broken and empty inside. Jack had never imagined that he would find love again. He had resigned himself to a life of loneliness, believing that his heart could never fully heal from the pain of losing someone he had loved so deeply.

Then Ariel had come into his life, like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds. She had shown him kindness, understanding, and unwavering support during his darkest days, slowly but surely helping to mend the broken pieces of his heart.

She had brought light back into his life, filling his days with laughter, love, and the promise of a brighter tomorrow and now in a couple hours she was going to be his wife. This was going to be the best day of his life.

***

With hearts racing and hands tightly clasped together, Jack, Ariel, Jayla with Urban right behind them rushed into the courthouse, their excitement filled the air. Their steps echoed in the grand hallway as they made their way to the front desk, determined to make their impromptu wedding a reality.

Breathless with anticipation, Jack approached the desk clerk, a wide grin on his face. “We’re here to get married,” he announced proudly, his voice filled with excitement.

The desk clerk looked up from her paperwork, surprised by the sudden burst of enthusiasm. But as she took in the sight of the happy family standing before her, her eyes softened with warmth and understanding.

“Of course,” she said with a smile, her fingers flying across the keyboard to pull up the necessary paperwork. “Do you have your IDs with you?”

Jack nodded eagerly, pulling out his wallet to retrieve his ID, while Ariel did the same. With their IDs in hand, they watched as the clerk processed their information, the anticipation building with each passing second.

Finally, with a flourish of her pen, the clerk handed them the marriage license, “Congratulations,” she said warmly, her eyes shining with genuine happiness for the couple before her.

With their marriage license in hand, Jack and Ariel exchanged excited glances, their hearts overflowing with joy. Hand in hand, they made their way to the courthouse chapel, where they would exchange vows and become husband and wife.

Ariel stood there with her hands shaking nervously as the officiant spoke. She was about to become a Harlow. Her heart overflowing with love and emotion, Ariel took a deep breath, her eyes shining with tears of joy. With trembling hands, she reached out to take Jack’s, her fingers intertwining with his as she began to speak.

“Jack,” she began, her voice soft and filled with sincerity, “from the moment you came into my life, you’ve brought nothing but love, laughter, and endless joy. You’ve shown me what it means to love and be loved unconditionally, and for that, I am eternally grateful.”

Tears welled up in Ariel’s eyes as she continued, her voice filled with emotion. “You’ve been my rock, my partner, and my best friend. You’ve stood by my side through the good times and the bad, supporting me, encouraging me, and believing in me when I needed it most.”

A smile touched Ariel's lips as she looked into Jack’s eyes, her heart overflowing with love. “Today, as I stand before you, I vow to love you with all that I am, to cherish you, to support you, and to be by your side through every twist and turn that life may bring. I promise to laugh with you, to cry with you, and to build a future filled with love, laughter, and endless adventures. You are my everything, Jack, and I am so grateful to be able to call you my husband.”

Ariel turned towards Jayla who was standing next to Urban, her heart swelling with love for the girl who had stolen her heart from the very beginning.

“Jayla” she began, her voice filled with warmth and sincerity, “from the moment I met you, you captured my heart in a way I never thought possible.”

Tears welled up in Ariel’s eyes as she continued. “You’ve been my daughter since day one, Jayla. You’ve brought so much light and happiness into my life, and I am grateful for every moment we’ve shared together.”

“I want you to know that I love you with all my heart. I promise to always be there for you, to support you, to encourage you, and to love you unconditionally, just as you have loved me.”

With tears of joy streaming down her cheeks, Ariel pulled Jayla into a tight embrace, holding her close as she whispered, “You are my daughter, Jayla, and I am so grateful to have you in my life. I love you more than words can express, and I promise to be the best mother I can be to you, now and always.”

Jack couldn’t help but join in on the hug, forever grateful for his tiny family. He gave them both kisses on the forehead before pulling away so he could say his vows.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he cleared his throat before beginning his vows.

“Ariel,” he started, his voice warm and filled with affection, “from the moment I met you, I knew my life would never be the same. You’ve brought so much love, light, and laughter into my life, and I am eternally grateful for every moment we’ve shared together.”

A grin spread across Jack’s face as he continued, unable to contain his playful spirit. “Now, I have to admit, I don’t know how I’m going to top your vows, Ariel. They were so heartfelt, I’m not sure I can compete!”

Ariel, along with Jayla and Urban’s laughter filled the room as Jack paused for a moment, enjoying the light-hearted moment with his bride-to-be.

“But seriously, Ariel, today I stand before you with all the love in my heart. I promise to cherish you, to support you, and to stand by your side through every moment, big or small. I vow to be your partner, your confidant, and your biggest cheerleader, cheering you on in all your dreams.”

Jack reached up to wipe the tears that had fallen from Ariel’s eyes and gave her a smile. “I am honored to become your husband, I want to spend the rest of my days making you as happy as you have made me. I love you more than words can express, and I am grateful every day for the love and joy you bring into my life.”

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss—“

Jack, not being able to wait, grabbed Ariel pulling her closer and leaned in, pressing his lips eagerly against her own.

Jayla and Urban cheered as Jack and Ariel had their first kiss as husband and wife.

***

After the whirlwind of emotions and celebrations, Jack, Ariel, Jayla and Urban found themselves at home, gathered around the kitchen table. They placed a store-bought cake in the center of the table, without any formalities or fuss, they grabbed forks and began to dig in, savoring each bite of the cake.

Jack leaned in close to Ariel, his voice soft as he whispered, “I can’t believe today happened. I’m the luckiest man in the world to have you as my wife.”

Ariel’s eyes sparkled with happiness as she whispered back, “And I’m the luckiest woman to have you as my husband. Today was perfect, Jack. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.”

Jack glanced at Ariel, a playful twinkle in his eye as he whispered, “When should we tell our families?”

Ariel chuckled softly, her heart warmed by the thought of sharing their joy with their loved ones. “I think we should tell them soon,” she replied, her voice filled with excitement. “Maggie has been pretty much begging you to marry me since we’ve met.”

He nodded in agreement, a smile spreading across his face. “I can’t wait to see the looks on her face when we tell her,” he said, his anticipation growing with each passing moment.

As Ariel rested her head on Jack’s shoulder, a contented sigh escaped her lips. “I’m just so happy,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion.

Jack wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “I am too,” he murmured, his voice soft with love. “Today has been everything I ever dreamed of and more.”

***

THEN COMES MARRIAGE!!!!! 🤭🤭 hope you all enjoyed this let me know yours thoughts

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[qveerthe0ry]

With Peace on Earth

Summary: A brief tale of your first Christmas Eve in Jackson Word Count: 2,166 Pairing: Joel Miller x GN! Reader Rating: 18 + Explicit (but not super descriptive smut) Warnings: 18+ mdni, established relationship, fluff, post-outbreak/Jackson, oral (m and gn receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, fingering (gn receiving), finger sucking, spit as lube, Joel is handsy, soft!joel, no y/n, no physical description of reader, reader is gender neutral, description of reader having a mother when they were young, reader celebrates Christmas, reader has no age, a tiny bit of sadness, nostalgia, no beta, let me know if I missed anything! Note: I wrote this very quickly to try and alleviate the writer's block because I have about 15 Pedro character WIPs (mostly Joel) and have yet to complete a single one. I also wrote this to express my feelings about how the holidays haven't really felt very magical for me for a while, but adopting new traditions has helped me find the magic again.

The streetlights are reflecting off of the fresh layer of snow. Despite it being the dead of night, the white ground makes everything just a bit brighter. The air is dry, and it smells like pine and open fires and for a second, when you focus really hard, it’s Christmas Eve, pre-apocalypse. 

You can remember it plain as day. You can feel the air like it was yesterday, that palpable excitement as you spread a mixture of oats and glitter and sequins across your childhood front yard. 

“So the reindeer know where to land Santa’s sleigh,” your mom had told you. 

You can feel the warmth of her hand enveloping your tiny, freezing fingers. The warmth of her voice, of her gaze on you. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, try to remember that happy memories can be just that— and not a cruel taunting of the way things used to be and how different they are now. 

You don’t realize how cold you actually are until two warm arms wrap around you, and hot breath creeps down the collar of your long johns. 

“Gonna catch your death,” Joel mumbles. 

You lean back into him, close your eyes, and take a big, deep breath. You smell the snow and the chimney smoke but also homemade oat soap and lavender laundry wash and it isn’t like it used to be, but maybe that doesn’t have to mean it’s worse. 

“Was hoping I’d see Santa fly over,” you say, distracted, watching the stars in the crisp winter sky. 

“You think he made it through all these years?” 

Joel chuckles as he says it, and wraps his arms a tad tighter around you. 

“I like to think so,” you shrug. 

His soft laughter turns into a hum, turns into lips pressed under your ear. 

“I love the way you are.” 

It’s sweet. It’s sticky, nauseating words coming from a man you never thought would be anything but cold and calculated, when you first met. It warms you all the way through, maybe even melts some of the snow that’s blown its way onto the porch you’re standing on. 

You want to say it back, want to tell him how much you love the way he is, the way his guarded heart shines through the cracks so bright it blinds you, the way his smiles make you weak so that it’s a good thing he’s so stingy with them. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask instead. 

He takes a long moment to respond. You can feel his teeth grinding together where his jaw is hooked over your shoulder, and the way his breath is coming in less than slow and steady. 

“Just— It’s 20 years into the end of the world and you still have hope.” 

You sigh and turn your head, seeking out his stubbled cheek, and press a kiss to the wind burnt skin. 

“I found you after all this time, didn’t I?” 

He huffs, and it sounds amused. You turn a bit in his hold to look at his eyes and the way his eyebrows gather together in the middle. 

“And this is a blessing, not a curse?” 

You want to kiss the skeptical look off of his face, so you do, hooking your arms around his neck and capturing his bottom lip between your own. 

You feel the warmth of his palms through your shirt as they splay out across your back, fingers digging, working the muscles there like he’s kneading bread. You hum into his mouth and let your fingers tangle in the soft curls at the nape of his neck just as his tongue finds yours. 

You can feel him slowly filling out his worn jeans where his hips press into your own and you think, with a chuckle you can’t contain, that this is the only Christmas gift you want from now on. 

He pulls away at your soft laughter, his own eyes twinkling with an edge of humor. 

“Are you stallin’ or somethin’?” 

You shake your head as a smile splits your face from ear to ear. 

“Never. Always a blessing, babe,” you tell him. 

Your hands drop from his neck quickly to grab two handfuls of his ass and squeeze, and he glares at you as you press him just that much closer to you. 

“I’ll give you a blessing,” he grumbles. 

His head ducks down so that his lips can find your pulse point, and then his teeth, a playful nip with a hint of something more desperate and charged. 

“Better not give the whole neighborhood an eye full,” you warn, half-heartedly. You know most people are asleep, and you know neither you nor Joel would really mind it. 

Still, on the off-chance Tommy and Maria are still awake across the street, you don’t need to give the town leader any fuel for retaliation. 

His breath comes out in whisps of steam around your face, minty with notes of whiskey. 

“Go on ‘n get, then. Warm up by the fire.”

And you know by now not to protest, not when your prize for obeying is so worth being bossed around by the grumpy old man. 

You undress by the fire and look around the living room while Joel makes sure the house is locked up. 

It’s not quite decorated like an old Christmas movie, but it’s still festive, still as warm and full of cheer as you remember from before. 

There’s a Christmas branch, really, a small little bush that Ellie had brought home to you a few weeks before. You had spent the day looking around for scraps of anything red, some ribbon, the sleeve of an old t-shirt, some berries on a bush that you were certain weren’t edible. You both worked on decorating the Charlie Brown-esque tree as Joel watched, grumbling, but plucking away at a rendition of ‘Oh Christmas Tree’ on his guitar as he complained. 

There are three big socks hung up on the mantle of the fireplace, Joel’s, who griped about having to give up the precious fabric while he decorated them with you and Ellie at the kitchen table. ‘Decorated’ used lightly, as you only had a few errant pipe cleaners and the guts of a few raspberries as a red/pink dye. 

And then there’s the whittled reindeer Joel had presented to you just days ago with a shy look on his face you don’t see very often. The wood is smooth and the antlers are intricate, and even though you can’t see it, you know there’s a little heart carved into the bottom of its back left hoof. It’s your favorite decoration out of all of them, displayed lovingly and proudly on the coffee table. 

You grab an old blanket from the back of the couch and lay it in front of the fire just as Joel finds you again. His footsteps are lighter without his heavy boots on, and his fingers don’t feel as warm now as they grab your hips. 

“Gonna lay down for me?” 

His voice is low and gruff and calm, and all you can do is obey, and lie down naked on the fleece. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him undress. The light of the fire makes all of his golden skin look even more so, dancing an orange glow across his scarred stomach and sparsely haired chest and the contrasting hardness and softness of his form that’s so familiar now. 

You touch yourself gently as you watch him, light strokes, just to tease while you wait for him. With a grunt, he gets down to share the warm blanket with you, rolling you onto your side to face the flames. 

“You remember that Mariah Carey Christmas song?” he asks as his rough hand curls around your hip. 

You hide your smile in your own arm before answering. 

“Not sure if I do. Sing a few bars for me.” 

He groans and squeezes your flesh. 

“You're pullin’ my leg."

“Yeah, I remember it.” 

Remembering songs post-apocalypse is strange, the way you can not hear it for decades but still remember every note and word. Now, ringing through your head, is the high register of All I Want for Christmas is You, and you hum the chorus as Joel’s heavy prick presses against the small of your back. 

“That’s how I feel,” he tells you.

His hand gets bolder, travels to the place where your thigh and hip meet, and then farther, between your legs, where it’s quite obvious what you want for Christmas, too. 

“I feel the same, Joel.” 

His breath puffs against your neck as he nuzzles that tender place behind your ear. He doesn’t often talk about his feelings for you, electing rather to show them through gestures. You like when he says it though, it makes it feel even more tangible, makes a nostalgic warmth tingle throughout your guts and your chest. 

“Have you been good this year?” he asks you, a hint of mischief in his voice that makes you giggle. 

“I think I have, yeah.” 

“Debatable,” he grumbles, “but I guess you won’t get a lump of coal.” 

He gets you on your back, and your breath hitches as he covers you with his big, solid body. His skin feels so incredible against yours, always, every time you’re together like this. 

He starts to press open-mouthed kisses down your body, a searing hot trail across your most sensitive spots, until he’s mouthing around where you want him most. 

“Please, baby, please.”

You know he likes to hear you beg for it. His sweet brown eyes find yours as he smiles, and the warmth of his gaze and the fire start to pull little pinpricks of sweat from your pores. 

But he doesn’t tease you for long. You watch with wonder as his graying curls bounce between your legs, his attentive mouth working you tenderly but thoroughly. Your hand tangles in his hair for purchase as you lift your hips to urge him on. 

He’s always so sloppy with it, and his saliva drips down onto the blanket, and you love it like this, so messy and haphazard, with no regard to anything but making you feel good, getting you off. 

His fingers, three of them, tap at your parted lips. They’re so big as you take them in and swirl your tongue around them, getting them nice and wet, and your own spit seeps from the corners of your mouth. He groans, and you can feel it with his mouth on you. 

His hips make small little moves to rut against the blanket between your open legs, and you want him inside, need to feel him inside you. 

You tell him this much, though it’s muffled with his fingers in your mouth. He doesn’t let up until you’re teetering on the edge, moaning and whimpering around his flesh, gripping his hair so tight you don’t know how you haven’t pulled it out. 

You whine when his mouth retreats. 

“I know, I know. So greedy for it,” he coos, teasing. 

You scowl at him, but it holds no heat, and he laughs at your impatience as he coaxes you back onto your side. 

Behind you, Joel’s chest is solid and sweaty against your back. His fingers are solid too, sure but gentle, as he works them inside one by one to open you up with the help of your drool. 

“So good for me. What a present,” he tells you. 

It makes you impossibly hotter, and impossibly more in love with the man, and impossibly more impatient. 

“I want my present now,” you sigh. 

He tuts at you, against your shoulder blade, but you know he won’t deny you for longer because you can feel him leaking all over the skin of your back. 

When he presses into you, slow as ever, you feel even more full than you usually do. 

“Yes,” you pant, “like that. Just what I wanted.” 

He fills you over and over, a leisurely but steady pace, and his hands roam across your slick, heated skin. As his body presses against yours, and as he reaches around to work you to your climax, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed at the realization that things are okay, things are great, and they’re allowed to be, despite the state of everything. 

When you come, he comes too, deep inside you. His teeth bare down on your shoulder, and he grunts your name into your skin, and he tells you you’re perfect, and that you’re so good to him.

Joel doesn’t move far, after. He grabs an article of discarded clothing to clean you up. You know his back must kill like this, on the floor, but his happy breaths across your cooling skin make you think that this must be worth a little pain in the morning. 

And when he sleepily mumbles, “Merry Christmas, Darlin’,” it sounds a lot more like “I love you.”

[jake-g-lockley]

Hello! Could I possibly get #11 with Frankie please? Thank you so much!

Silent Wishes (Frankie Morales x reader) 

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Want to be tagged?

Prompt: one touching the other’s hand and comparing pinky fingers, playing with their hair and patting their head randomly, hoping they’ll get it. 

Warnings: single mom troubles, two yearning idiots who are oblivious, sad undertones with loads of fluff

A/N: Thanks for the ask lovely!! Look I love the yearning idiot trope with Frankie, he’s everything to me :”)

Word count: 1.8 k words

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

He turned up at your doorstep one summer afternoon while you were trying to get your newborn to sleep. His eyes widened at the sight before him. You hadn’t seen him in 2 years and hadn’t written to him in a year and a half when he stopped writing back.

You noted the freckles that dotted his face like constellations, indicating that he went somewhere hot, his tanned skin a further confirmation to your suspicions. He wordlessly stretched his arms out for the crying newborn and you mechanically transferred her to him, watching as he gently cradled her against his broad chest, making soft shushing noises. You were shocked with yourself, you hadn’t seen him in months and you just handed your newborn to him like he had been beside you all this while. 

When you had woken up that morning you never thought that your best friend would finally turn up after months of complete silence. A lot had happened since he left and you drowned in your sorrows, one thing led to another and you were now left alone with a three month old and sleepless nights. You straightened your shirt and rubbed at the awkward stain on your shoulder, covering it up with your matted hair as you bit your lip

“You wanna come in?” you whispered, your throat hoarse from all of the singing you tried administering to your restless daughter.

Frankie nodded and continued to gently rock your baby as she began to quiet down in his arms. You ushered Frankie onto the couch, not before pushing away the assorted plushies and rattles. The both of you sat awkwardly, a veil of weird energy clouding over you as you watched your daughter finally succumb to sleep.

“What's her name?” Frankie whispered and you almost sighed in relief when you heard his voice, letting it sew the cracks of your heart.

“Aruna.” you said back and watched on as Frankie whispered her name and smiled down at her.

“She’s beautiful.” 

“Just like her mother.” He tried to say but his voice kept catching in his throat and he swallowed the urge to hug you right now.

“Thank you…” you smiled and Frankie almost sobbed at how beautiful you looked, despite looking like you hadn’t had a wink of sleep in months.

“So, where’s Aruna’s dad.” he found himself cutting right to it but he wished he didn’t when he caught a change in your expression.

“Dunno. I kinda don’t even know his name.” you whispered, embarrassment creeping up your face.

Frankie was screaming with joy inside, but he internally chastised himself. He shouldn’t feel this indulgent, after all, he left his best friend without a word for many months. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it was my decision to keep Aruna. How’ve you been?” you switched topics fast, pulling the attention away from you and back onto the pretty man that was cradling your child.

“Been okay.” he said, his eyes filled with worry that he tried his best to hide.

The both of you sat in silence when suddenly you realised that you hadn’t offered Frankie anything and you internally face palmed.

“Want something to drink?” you forced a smile and got up.

“It's alright.” he looked like he wanted to continue his sentence but he cut himself off with a deep breath and looked down at the sleeping Aruna again.

“I can tell that you have something to say, Frankie.” his head snapped up when you said his name and he blinked up at you, not wanting to intrude. 

“I-i don’t mind taking care of Aruna for a while, if you want some alone time.” he whispered.

You were caught off guard but somehow, you weren’t surprised. There was your old Frankie, the Frankie who protected you and cared for you with all of his very being. Your eyes welled up with tears and Frankie stood up, alarmed. He crossed the gap and pulled you into his arms, careful not to squish your daughter. 

“Thank you, Frankie.” you whispered and you felt his lips on your forehead, his kiss spreading a warmth from the top of your head till the tip of your toes. 

You pulled back first, leaning down to kiss your daughter’s cheek and giving Frankie one last sad smile before retreating to the bathroom. Frankie closed his eyes the second the bathroom door closed, tears that were pooling at his waterline rushing out, cascading down his cheeks, his heart pounding uncontrollably where Aruna’s ear was pressed against his chest. 

His years of yearning crashed against him as his heart hurt from the way you were living. Toys and books were strewn everywhere and he let out a shaky breath trying his best to stay silent for the tiny baby in his arms. He can’t help but feel like this was all of his fault as he scanned the situation around him. He hastily wiped his eyes and spotted your baby-wearing scarf not far from the couch. He gently walked towards it and decided to get to work

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You didn’t know how long you were in the shower, letting the hot water soothe all the knots in your lower back and neck. You let your mind go blank as you rinse the shampoo into your hair, losing yourself to the sound of the water hitting the floor. You left the bathroom almost reluctantly and you were surprised to see a pile of clothes on your bed waiting for you. 

You slipped them on and smiled to yourself, your reflection looking fresher than it had been for months. You slowly walked downstairs, your ears picking up a soft lullaby and the sound of tap water hitting dishes. You tiptoed to the kitchen and peaked around the corner, watching as Frankie bounced around to the rhythm of the lullaby he was singing, your baby-wearing scarf wrapped around him. 

He continued to wash and stack dishes as your eyes wandered to the living room and you realised that Frankie had placed everything back in its place. Your place was relatively clean, it's just that the past few days had been a little too chaotic with the little one not cooperating. 

You smiled softly at Frankie’s kindness and you were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t realise Frankie had just moon walked past you and stopped when his eyes met yours. You raised your eyebrows and chuckled at his shenanigans.

“Benny taught me, nevermind…” he mumbled and rubbed the back of his neck and you grinned at him. 

He reached out and tucked a strand of your wet hair behind your ear and you searched his eyes. Frankie didn’t know what to do, so he awkwardly patted your head and you internally cackled at his nervousness but turned around and blushed, pretending to look for your daughter’s bottle. You glanced at the clock and realised that it was in fact time to feed her, so you rushed around the kitchen, preparing her a bottle. 

You turned to find Frankie staring at you, his position the same as when you left him a second ago. He had been unabashedly gazing at you, his heart playing out another unfamiliar melody. 

“You wanna feed her?” you asked and he nodded quickly, and you gestured towards the couch.

You pulled Aruna out of the wrap and Frankie sat cross legged on the sofa. You laid your daughter in the crook of his waiting arm and handed him the bottle. She took the bottle immediately without a fuss and you slumped against the chair, absolutely defeated as Frankie grinned at you, his pretty dimple on full display that made your heart melt at how gorgeous he looked. 

But you looked away instantly, your heart clenching at the fact that Frankie would never want to be with a sad single mom. You sighed to yourself and Frankie caught your shift in behaviour

“You okay?”

“Mhm.” you hummed, straightening your face. 

Frankie wasn’t convinced. Yet he diligently focused on Aruna, and burped her once the last drop of milk disappeared from the bottle. You watched with a longing smile as Frankie soothingly rocked her back to sleep before putting her into her bassinet. He quietly sat beside you and you scoffed approvingly.

“What?” he whispered

“You’d make a great dad, you know.” you whispered gently

Frankie blushed, his face flaming like a tomato.

“Well, just practice from babysitting the nephews.” he muttered.

You both sat in silence staring at the blank TV before you, your reflections something of a dream to you.

“Dude, I didn’t realize how small your fingers were!” he exclaimed softly.

You raised your eyebrows questioningly and Frankie pulled at your wrist without a warning, sending a shock throughout your body. He held your arm in front of him and examined it, comparing his pinky with yours. He was right, except his hand looked gargantuan beside yours. He stared intently at your hand, holding it gently. 

“Why’d you come back, Frankie?” you whispered. 

Frankie most certainly did not expect that question from you. He didn’t know what to expect to be honest. He thought you were about to slam the door in his face when he turned up a few hours ago. He had spent the whole night hyping himself up to go and see you, to at least say hi and see how you were doing. He missed you, and his poor heart yearned for you no matter how much he pushed it away. A picture of your smiling face was still tucked in his wallet and not a day has passed since he pulled it out to see whether you were still there with him.

He broke when you stopped sending him your letters, he had kept them stowed in a little box that he’d carry with him and he read them every night without fail. He knew what to tell you, what answer would exit his mouth if he had the courage to open it. He looked up at you, his big brown eyes melting with guilt and your heart softened. You somehow knew why he was back, you can now see by the way he looks at you, his mask shattered along with the swagger he had when you swung that door open this morning.

You scooched closer to him and leaned on his shoulder, your hearts beating to the same rhythm. Frankie sighs and pulls your legs over his, now cradling you the same way he had cradled your daughter. You and him would talk, when the time was right. Now, you breathed in his heavenly scent as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, his arms creating a protective barrier like no other.

Your Frankie was back and nothing else mattered. 

Reblogs are appreciated ~~~

Tagging: @joygirlmelii @wolfbook87 @minigirl87 @alexxavicry @lia275 @euphoricosmo @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @swiggy-needs-mental-help @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm @bubblezuku

[sacrifices-of-the-literary-demon]

A Web of a Different Sort

Couple of notes:

 

 

“Weirdo” is used as a term of endearment in my family, and thus is intended to be read as such here.

 

 

This is my first written work in a number of years. It was meant to be much shorter but I was having too much fun.It’s not what I thought it was going to be at the beginning, but I hope it scratches that particular itch that spawned the prompt all the same!

 

 

Also! I’m reasonably sure that the term “Drider” comes from a portmanteau of Drow+Spider. Atraxeus isn’t part Drow, although I’m not certain what spider centaurs are called outside of DnD.

 

 

Fluff!Yandere. I mean, it’s so mild I almost can’t really consider it yandere, so be forewarned.

 

 

~~~

 

 

When your aunt passed on earlier in the year, it was a sad but expected result of time catching up to the older, eccentric lady you’d loved in your childhood. Life caused you and her to have lost contact for some time so it was mildly surprising to learn she’d left her run-down abode to you. Your cousin lived deeper in the town her little home almost bordered, and upon you reaching out he’d made it abundantly clear he had no issue with his mother’s decision.

 

 

“What do I need with another house? Mom left me the few mementos I wanted, and if she wanted to help you start your life I’m not going to be the one to argue with her. She’d probably rise up from the grave just to slap me for being a greedy bastard, and I’d have no room to complain.” he finished with a laugh.

 

 

You moved your belongings in during the late fall, the forest on the left side of the house a riotous mix of yellows, oranges and reds making the trees look like torches flowing far beyond what you could see. The ever cooling weather made you aware of every nook and cranny that needed patching, the sharp wind discovering two new ones for every one you filled.  

 

 

Despite the steady trickle of repairs that came with owning an older house, it was at least close enough that a short walk to the bus station gave you access to the town proper. Best of all, there was a well-stocked craft store that was quite popular with almost everyone- your heart in particular was won over completely upon seeing the rows and rows of specialty yarn skeins in any shade imaginable. You were watching the clock as it grew later and later yet, but it was a new store to you and there was always something else that caught your eye and away you eagerly went.

 

 

Four overflowing bags and an indeterminable amount of time later (you knew how long you spent in there, you just weren't going to admit it) found you at the bus stop once again but unfortunately just shy of catching the last bus. Calling your cousin after all the help he’d already given with repairs to the house and rides out of town was out of the question. And the house itself wasn’t that far from town, and yarn didn’t weigh all that much, so…

 

 

Looking at the map on your phone, following the road would take you an hour and some getting back home but you were walking, and by cutting through the forest you’d shave off at least 20 minutes, maybe more.

 

 

Fortune favored you for once; there was a clear path through the trees and frequently checking your phone made sure you never strayed from the path leading to your home. But even in the twilight (perhaps especially in the twilight) the forest was beautiful, and you began to rest more and more often to give your arms a break from the unaccustomed exercise, enjoying the sounds of the rustling branches as the nocturnal residents began their unseen rounds.

 

 

The sight of your back door was a welcomed one, giving you a burst of energy that got you in the house and your bags slung haphazardly onto the couch, causing several skeins of yarn to tumble to the floor. With a tired groan, instead of slumping into the tattered old loveseat like you’d wanted you began to retrieve your purchases from where they had fallen.

 

 

It was exciting though. Picking through your chosen colors and textures, mentally assigning them to each project you were planning. An orange to red ombré that would become a fall-themed couch cover, a similar patterned skein in a sparkling white to blue that would be perfect for winter-themed covers, alongside a much softer white that shined even under the bright lights of the store that would make for perfect snuggling pillows…

 

 

Okay…

 

 

You knew you had picked up at least four of those incredibly soft skeins because you had the idea wrapped up inside your head of building what could almost be called a freaking nest of pillows with them that would be simply heavenly once winter hit properly. But crawling around, disturbing the dust bunnies under the couch and tables didn’t reveal more than two. You had plenty more colors and varieties for your many, many planned upcoming projects for the house, so while it was disappointing you supposed you could wait to purchase more until you were actually ready to start on those. After all, you knew you were going to need a lot more than four for what you were planning, it was just unfortunate that you’d had been limited to what you could carry and the colors you’d already chosen by the time you’d come across these.

 

 

Invigorated anew by the sight (and smell, burying your nose into an armful of brand-new yarn and taking a deep, satisfying sniff, you weirdo) you plucked your hooks from the basket next to the couch, turned your music app on and happily began your first project.

 

 

~

 

 

The morning brought you a little gift of luck, finding one of your missing skeins slightly unraveled on the back porch. You figured you’d dropped it in your haste to get inside and there was a good chance the other one was also dropped somewhere on your way home, most likely on the path when you stopped to rest. The skein was surprisingly clean for having been left outside, another bout of good fortune.

 

 

Over the past several nights, you’d been curling up in the back bay window crocheting to your heart’s content. Being quite the recluse caused your daytime job of answering phones as part of an outsourced support team grate badly on your nerves, but it was by and far better than any other job that required you to interact with people directly (with the added benefit that you could still sometimes work on your craft as no one could actually see you do so). And as with any project done with love, you were quite proficient at it. You had started the couch cover, made a simple runner for the kitchen table, and was currently working on some matching curtains. As a little reward for yourself, you decided to head back to the craft store to pick through their offerings once more despite having plenty of skeins yet to use.

 

 

You paused at the door; it wasn’t too long of a walk into town using the pathway you took last time, right? It would be good exercise, and you wouldn’t have to wait a half hour for the bus or sit in the tin can of a vehicle squished up against strangers you tried valiantly to pretend didn’t exist. You may even find your missing yarn, although the elements by now surely would have rendered it useless to you.

 

 

The walk during the day was different, but the forest was no less enchanting than it was under moonlight. It was quicker than you had remembered, most likely due to not being weighed down by baggage.  

 

 

You spent a good portion of the day around town, stopping in a few shops but never buying anything until your last stop at the craft store. You spent quite a bit of time thumbing through findings and beads and such, but keeping in mind your walk home you decided to pick up another seven skeins of soft white yarn alongside a long bar and hooks for the curtains you were nearly done with.

 

 

The walk back home was brisk and refreshing, the trees blocking much of the cooler fall wind. Some of the trees along the path had faint shimmers along the bark, and you were admiring whatever caused the effect when you stumbled over something on the path. You were fortunate enough to not be pitched to the ground, but your bags were not so lucky. Faint whispers of something tickled your face and arms, and you swiped your hands through the air around you, feeling light strings around your head, almost like spider silk.

 

 

“Huh.”

 

 

You swiped around your body to make sure there was nothing clinging to you before picking your bags back up. This time you counted your purchases, rifling through the bags to make sure nothing was left behind, completely missing the glinting eyes far into the trees as they watched you proceed once more on your short journey home.

 

 

The following week saw you flitting into town bee-lining directly for the hobby shop. You were in desperate need of a “didn’t cuss a customer out despite completely deserving it” reward and while the brisk walk into town helped with the stress, skimming your hand along the rows of brightly colored skeins helped to push the rest of your anxiety away, awash in the thoughts of projects to come.

 

 

This time your purchases were carried in a fisherman’s net bag with a drawstring close, the product of an hour spent in your cozy little nest and a set of free patterns you’d found online. So this time when you inevitably stumbled along the chain of webbing crossing over your path, you managed to keep hold of your purchases. And when not even a step later you felt a soft net-like web fall from the foliage above, dropping your bag in startelement to swipe at the strands criss-crossing your face and torso, your belongings stayed safe. Pulling at the strands did not break the filament despite its deceptively fragile appearance. But the threads were chained in a manner that almost seemed similar to your own, and all it took was a clear head to find a spot in the webbing, unraveling a section large enough to step through within moments. Bending towards the ground to retrieve your bag, you could see it really was kind of similar to a pattern that now hung from the kitchen window rods. You giggled a little bit when your imagination played out an image of an itsy-bitsy spider with an itsy-bitsy set of crochet hooks.  

 

 

A rustling off to your side, yards away, startled you out of your mirth. When it was accompanied by what sounded like a frustrated growl you decided perhaps you should carry on your way before whatever nocturnal animal out there decided to take its bad night out on whatever unsuspecting creature got in its way. Specifically, you.

 

 

~

 

 

You’d grown to love the treks back and forth through the woods, and several times now you’d seen the glistening strings stretching across your path. It was fascinating, really- some of the webbing looked almost like different lacing patterns, again calling to mind some of your own work hung in the windows of your little home. You wondered briefly at the size of the spider (spiders?) that could make such a large web to stretch so far, but you’d seen some pretty impressive natural structures in your youth come from some of the tiniest creatures and so really thought nothing of it. You tried your best to avoid damaging the delicate-looking lacework, stooping and walking through various holes, unraveling the fewest strands necessary- you’d be quite upset if someone came along and ruined your hard work by haphazardly stomping through it. And really, some of the patterns were getting quite impressive for a little arachnid and you could only wonder at the time it took them to spin such increasingly intricate webs.

 

 

By the middle of winter you had two couch covers, three sets of curtains, one blanket, and three of your coveted cuddle pillows made amongst various other items you had crocheted for online orders that provided a little bit of extra cash. You were right- the pillows were almost orgasmic to pile up and snuggle into, but you hadn’t made nearly enough of them as you’d paused on your pillow sets to make the aforementioned blanket. You had a proper little nest in the window now, and even on the few nights you put the hooks down for a book or to watch a movie on your phone you were snuggled up in comfort despite the ever increasing chill coming from the window pane.  

 

 

Obviously there were no more webs during the colder winter months, but nearer to the end of spring you found yourself once again coming across silken webbing laced around the path. The first one of the year was also the first one you’d found on your way into town, and you’d stepped back to admire it in shock and awe as it was also one of the largest, most intricate you’d seen yet.  

 

 

“Oh, wow, that is just so amazing!” You gushed out loud, reaching out to run a finger across the patterns. A lacey chain of snowflakes spiraled out from the center, progressively growing bigger in size, the biggest snowflakes on the edges spanning further than your hand could spread. Interspersed between them were delicate swirls and loops of chain, the lattice-like structure now stretching to cover the path completely between the two trees it was anchored to.

 

 

Following the threads, you could see in the waning daylight more chains and swirls continued their patterns above your head, and tracing the path of webbing with your eyes found the designs stretching and looping around, almost seeming to form a tunnel off the beaten path to lead down into the woods.

 

 

All these months you have been smart enough to stay on the well-worn trail. You knew better than to risk wandering off into the forest- knowing your luck, you’d get lost within hours, starve to death, then have to explain to your auntie’s ghost why your corpse was now feeding the wild coyotes (or whatever was in here) and not taking care of her house.

 

 

But.

 

 

The tapestry of web-work was absolutely enchanting. It must have been the work of an enormous cluster of spiders to achieve such awe-inspiring displays of weaving, but not even the thought of encountering what had to be hundreds of spiders could dissuade you from wanting to see more. Thousands upon thousands of threads made the shimmering web almost glow in spots, more and more chains slowly being recognized. Ohmigosh, that’s just like the pattern I used for the table runner! Each pattern delicately bled into another, and so fascinated by the complexities of the work you barely recognized that you had stepped off the path until you bent your head down to pull out your phone for a flashlight. The sight of the weave beneath your feet instead of dirt gave you pause for a moment. Looking up, even with your (admittedly small) light the end of the tunnel couldn’t be seen, and a cautious backwards glance showed you had only gone a few steps off the path so far.

 

 

You could go back around the other side of the path, round the trees and be on your way as you have so many times before. But you just couldn’t keep your eyes from eagerly following the meticulously woven threads in shimmering designs as they swooped and swirled farther into the darkening woods. How dangerous could it be to look further? Would you ever get a chance to see something this unique again? The wall of webbing looked delicate enough, but pushing on the side only stretched the threads, bouncing back upon drawing your hand away. It would be almost impossible to get lost- the tunnel led straight back and you could merely turn around and follow the passage back to the trail once your curiosity had been sated.

 

 

The ceiling stretched a few feet above your head and if you walked down the middle of this new pathway, you would not be able to touch the walls either so claustrophobia wasn’t even a thought. Besides, the way the intricate shimmering swirls danced into one another, surrounding you as the webbing swirled deeper yet into the forest left no room in you for anything other than fascination. It was unfortunate that you couldn’t snap pictures while your phone used the flashlight- and there was no telling when whatever animals that roamed the woods during the daytime would ruin such a rare sight so you had to commit to your memory now whatever you could.

 

 

A slight ache in your legs was the only clue you had to how far you had walked, mesmerized as you were. A sigh left your lips; you were understandably caught up in being so fortuitous having the chance to examine such a rare sight for so long that night had to have fallen by now, which meant your trip into town was no longer an option. Not that you were complaining. But it was high time to begin your reluctant trek back home.

 

 

Just as the thought brushed your mind the web-formed tunnel gave way to an open cavern. The glistening threads still swirled and chained its way across the floor, but the walls and ceiling were suddenly dark grayish rock speckled here and there with different varieties of moss clinging to the crevices that split along the surface.

 

 

The webbing on the floor began to change, forming something that looked a little more like a spider’s web closer to the center of the rocky room, but not quite- and again, it was something that was familiar to you the closer you peered. Your curiosity and admiration were slowly being outweighed by caution- you were clearly in a cave, how far had you walked? You didn’t want your once-in-a-lifetime experience to become your final experience because you were eaten by a cave bear.

 

 

A skittering noise coming from the space between you and the tunnel entrance had your heart immediately in your throat and your feet rapidly taking you backwards further into the room, hands fumbling with your phone. Your light was a tiny beacon in the dark, a neon sign showing predators where to find you and your trembling hands took three tries to turn it off. You kept moving backwards, not wanting to stay still while your eyes adjusted to the dark the best they could, but you found your feet suddenly pulled out from under you and you only had seconds to brace yourself for the impact of your skull and back hitting the unforgiving stone floor.

 

 

However, instead of meeting the floor in a burst of pain, your backwards momentum was suddenly arrested and your body was abruptly pulled into the air. Your shriek of fear and surprise echoed off the walls and it took you more than a few moments to get your bearings. Your body was suspended, swinging in the air, the cording around you forcing you into somewhat of a fetal position. Your hands scrambled to find purchase, grasping onto the net-like bag that held you while you tried hard not to get sick from the dizzying sway.

 

 

“Little Spinner! You don’t know how happy I am to see you have survived the freeze!”

 

 

Your eyes widened in shock. A human voice was the last thing you expected in the middle of the night, in a dark cave carved out in the woods. And now that you put it that way, this was such a bad idea. What were you thinking?

 

 

Obviously, you weren’t.

 

 

“Uh, I- I’m sorry, I think I need some…help?” Struggling against your bonds you managed to get a hand above you just out of the snare-like net that held you captive who-knows-how-high up. Blind fumbling of your fingers encountered the rim, feeling the thicker loops of stitching just above you, and as your eyes began adjusting to the dimness around you a thick pair of strings could just barely be seen, gradually leading from the net that held you captive to the ceiling of the cave.

 

 

And the edging on the rim of the snare was too familiar to not recognize.

 

 

After all, you used your little drawstring bag entirely too often on your many trips to town to not recognize those chains by now.

 

 

Further scuff and scuttling noises drew closer to you, but the voice from the darkness below you interrupted the mounting fear of the unknown.

 

 

“And you have no idea how pleased I am to see my work is finally good enough to impress you! You’ve no idea the amount of spinning I’ve done to get it just right.” the voice laughed as it continued to move below you, then sounding from the side of the cave wall. “Well, perhaps you do. I’m sure it took you quite a while to master your craft as you have.”

 

 

Confused with the direction of the conversation, you fought the fear of having to rely on an unknown stranger who sounded much too happy for the situation you were in. “I don’t, I really don’t understand what's going on here? And I’m getting scared?” It came out as a question not because you didn’t recognize the feelings coursing through your veins was terror-fueled adrenaline, but because you were uncertain if you should admit it to a faceless stranger.

 

 

The voice continued as though you hadn’t responded at all. “But there are no complaints from me. Months and months of nearly spinning myself dry were worth it to hear your exclamations of joy, dearest one.” There was a shift in the air beside you and large barely seen hands took hold of the net that held you, stopping the swaying motion. “Oh, great Neith, I know I’m getting ahead of myself, but do allow me this moment of gushing. I’ve waited so long to properly meet you! And I’ve worked my spinnerets off to prove it, don’t you think?”  

 

 

A pale face-a pale upside down face- with paler hair hanging down like a curtain appeared between the hands holding the netting. A wide grin flashed teeth but there was something wrong there and coal black eyes glinted back, with a few smaller black dots edged around each eye and in the dimness of the cave did they blink are those dots scars or eye- wait wait wait

 

 

Your own eyes grew wide and you slapped your hands over your mouth, converting a terrified scream into something more manageable. Or at least, muffled. The strings holding the snare to the dome of the cave stretched thin and the net bobbed down as if a more significant amount of weight had been added.  

 

 

“Hello, little mate! Atraxeus is what I am called, and I have been admittedly a bit impatient to meet you but now that you’re here…” he giggled, “I’m just too excited to decide what to show you first!”

 

 

There was too much and too little information being thrown at you at the same time, and if you could just get free of this snare you were sure you could calm down enough to ask the right questions and possibly make it through this night intact.

 

 

One pale hand left the side of the shimmering net to strike a match, your eyes following the tiny flame as it fell to the floor below you and gosh that was a lot further down than you realized before the pinprick of light suddenly swelled into a sea of flames dancing across the floor for a brief moment, before crawling up the walls into cleverly hidden cracks throughout the cavern, settling in and burning brightly across the room. The intricate webbing surprisingly still held fast to the floor, appearing to have been untouched, and the gentled flames flickering between the sheets of rock interspersed with the rich green of the moss was admittedly breathtaking, the light now sufficient enough for you to be able to take in your surroundings.

 

 

Your gaze went from the walls to the man hanging beside you, trailing up his bare chest oh god he better not be naked that would just- and for a moment you couldn’t make sense of what your eyes were telling you. Because where his waist ended blended into a dark plate-like carapace and-

 

 

An undignified shriek trying to escape your throat had you once again clapping your hands across your mouth, falling into unhinged laughter. Eight long, spindly, legs held onto the line suspending you above the floor, a muted black abdomen easily twice your size with slight hints of lavender and gray glinting in the light behind them.

 

 

Your wide eyes met his, still struggling with unhinged laughter. Three smaller eyes curved around each of his two more human-like ones. “Man..spider..spider-man, wait, no, no-not right, not right ohmigod-” The not-man not-spiderman cocked his head to the side in question, not being able to understand you as your hands were still covering your mouth.  

 

 

“Atraxeus, sweetling, but I understand it can be a bit of a mouthful. You can call me Atrax if you wish, but I’m also eager to hear the terms of endearment you prefer to use.” He frowned for a moment, looking pensive. “Except honey, or honeybear, or anything of the sort. Had a nasty run in with some bees a few years ago and can’t say I’ve had a taste for it since.” He refocused on you. “Let’s get you down from here, I know it’s a great view of the room, but there’s a little more to show you!” The line holding you suspended went slack momentarily before his hands and first two sets of legs caught you. “I’ve cleaned up and decorated in anticipation of bringing you home, but don’t worry! I’ve left more than enough room for you to display your own darling webs, dearest!”

 

 

He transferred you to his arms once the two of you reached the floor to allow his spider appendages to touch down first, the back two releasing his thread from the larger of the two sets of spinnerets. Your renewed struggles were rewarded with your head popping free of the net-like bag but casual hands merely readjusted you in his hold, curling you up into his chest with the remnants of the snare trapping your arms against you.

 

 

You looked up at him, pale skin and paler white hair that fell to his mid back. His gait was even and unhurried- quite the contrast to his exuberant, talkative personality. He caught your gaze from the corner of his eye(s) and gave you a sparkling grin that showed off an impressive set of fangs.

 

 

You closed your eyes and shuddered. “I don’t want to be eaten alive, oh god, that’s gotta be the worst way to go…” Atraxeus laughed and gave you a reassuring squeeze. “Oh, my, neither do I! Yet another thing we have in common!” He carried you through a short tunnel of rock sloping down before opening into what was a much more impressively sized cavern, although you couldn’t see the size properly as it was covered in sheet after sheet after sheet of webbing floors with silken tunnels interspersed throughout the space. He never paused, a slight hop taking him onto the glittering canvases, his legs navigating the maze unerringly. Despite yourself, you were overwhelmingly impressed at the silken architecture stretching around you. “In fact, I had quite despaired of ever finding a mate to share my life with- apparently I’m one of those “strange arachnaes” that want to actually enjoy my life with my partner, thank-you-very-much, not “‘Thank you for the babies’ then ‘thank you for the meal’”. This was said with a roll of all eight eyes, and you got the feeling it was something he’d been told a few too many times for his liking.  

 

 

A smaller webbed tunnel led to a curiously warm room, the floor once more decorated in crocheted paisley-like swirls. A large web hung almost horizontally across the space, unique in its construction; criss-crossed with enough webbing layered that it was thicker than your hand, sparkling in an opaque off white color. There were natural openings formed around the edge with one large hole near the bottom, acting as the entrance Atraxeus carried you through.  

 

 

Looking ahead, your sudden outrage pushed aside all the disjointed thoughts and fear that was flooding your mind. “Is that my blanket?!? Did you steal my blanket?” Said blanket was in the center of what you thought was another level of the room but now you assumed this must be his bed, surrounded by pillows of different sizes. The webbing barely moved as he walked forward- a testament to its sturdy construction- and upon closer look you realized this particular afghan was much larger than the one you had hooked yourself. Atraxeus’ chest vibrated beneath you as he let out a laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment, little Spinner of mine. As prolific as you are with your webbing, I feared you would complete your work before I could learn the pattern.”

 

 

He set you down upon the middle of the blanket, his forelegs cocooning the edges snugly around you before settling his great arachnid body beside your own, propping his head upon his hands to gaze upon you with a little sigh of contentment.

 

 

It was awkward for you, though, and still terrifying pinned down as you were with and of course an annoying strand of hair was tickling your cheek but that wasn’t the most important thing at the moment. “So…” you began. “I’m getting the idea you probably don’t want to eat me…even though I look like a giant bug trapped in-” you trailed off; you probably shouldn’t give him any ideas. “I’m very glad! You don’t want to be eaten, and I don’t want to be eaten, and- um, you were saying something about, uh,” you could feel the blush forming on your face and you couldn’t look him in the eyes for the embarrassment “Mates…partners…you can see that I’m not a, ah, spider-person, right?”

 

 

You looked back at him when he giggled. “Trust me, it’s part of your charm. Although watching you night after night weaving your webs, it would not be surprising to find you might have Arachnaes in your bloodline somewhere.”

 

 

“It’s not weaving webs, it’s- wait, night after night? You were stalking me?”

 

 

“Well of course. How else was I supposed to learn about you?” He reached a hand out to gently move the wayward strand of hair behind your ear.  

 

 

And this right here is why you really should have made an effort to try to connect with other people, other humans, because the mild shiver such a gentle move provoked in you should have been fear or revulsion. Especially paired with his unabashed admission of stalking. But in your defense, the people you tried to reach out and form relationships with, be it romantically inclined or a fulfilling camaraderie had left you with enough apprehension that you were almost serious about waiting for the inevitable robot revolution and trying your hand at courting one of them instead.

 

 

You’ve gone down some serious rabbit holes in your depressed internet searches, so sue you.

 

 

Atraxeus’ hands now perched beside you, his face much closer to yours than before. A rakish grin and sharpened gaze said he missed nothing when it came to your reactions. No, no, you were not so desperate for affection and acceptance that a mythical creature- ok, no, that was unwarranted meanness as he was definitely a person of some sort- but while he apparently knew enough about you to be entirely enthralled you had had your whole world-view set upon its head with just his existence alone. A person that had nothing but gushing compliments for you, something you’d never encountered with anyone else. And he was admittedly attractive, once you got accustomed to the multiple sets of eyes, and you never really had an issue before with picking up and relocating the little arachnids that made their way into your home.

 

 

What were you doing? Were you really going to talk yourself into a relationship with a person from another species?

 

 

Looking up at his adoring gaze centered on you, a small part in the back of your mind responded “YES PLEASE”.

 

 

You told that small part to shut up before it got you into trouble.

 

 

“Can…can you let me out of this, please?” You wiggled your shoulders slightly, the only movement the snug covering allowed. “I just think we can have a much more productive conversation as adults if one of us isn’t a literal captive audience, don’t you think?”

 

 

His smile grew wide before suddenly nuzzling his face into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, and you felt it when he took a deep breath of your scent. “We have plenty of time for talking later, sweetheart. I’ve worked so very hard throughout the night and into the day that I haven’t even been able to renovate the nest to accommodate for your disability, you know. I am in dire need of some rest and I fear you would wander off and get hurt, and it would just devastate me to see you harmed.”

 

 

“What do you mean by disability?” you asked warily.

 

 

He sighed and leaned back slightly, cupping your face in his hands and steadily holding your gaze with his own. “I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you this but, my love,…you only have two legs.”

 

 

You gave him a deadpan stare.

 

 

“Yes I knew that Atraxeus, I’m human, and a majority of us are naturally born with two legs.”

 

 

He laughed again, his smile bright as a thrill ran through him at hearing you say his name for the first time, and you cracked a small grin yourself. “Seriously though,” you wiggled a bit once more “there’s no need to chain me up-”

 

 

He cocked his head questioningly. “Is my webbing so rough against your skin?” He ran his fingers across the blanket at your shoulder.

 

 

“No, it’s, well, really quite soft, but-”

 

 

His hand came back across to gently tug at the material wrapped around your chest. “You can breathe alright?”

 

 

“Well, yeah, it’s just-”

 

 

“Then let us rest, just for a little while my love. Our conversation will keep ‘til morning.” He tucked his head back to nuzzle once more against your neck, an arm and three arachnid legs looping around you. Maybe it didn’t bother you the way you thought it should because you were so tired. Maybe he had a point, that you would be better prepared to argue your points with him once you were more well rested yourself.

 

 

Maybe in the morning you’d find he had some valid points himself.

 

 

Maybe. We’ll see.

 

 

~

 

 

Omake:

 

 

You cradled the swaddled egg; being only about half the size of a large watermelon she fit perfectly in your arms. Atrax had said time and the right set of humidity was all she needed to grow, but you were too eager to meet your soon-to-be-hatched daughter and were constantly swathing her in different baby blankets, rocking her and humming lullabies. Between the two of you, she had enough mini afghans of both yarn and spider-silk to make her own proper little nest and you almost always scooped her up upon the final stitch to see what she looked like in your latest creation.

 

 

Atrax could roll his eyes and playfully mock you all he wanted- he knew damn well he did the same exact thing more often than he let on.

 

 

The Arachnae in question had just entered your shared room, and upon seeing you awake and alert, tried unsuccessfully to hide his newest baby blanket behind his back, but aborted the attempt upon your pointed, playful look.

 

 

He sighed with a soft smile. “Ok, I know we keep saying she has enough blankies, but in my defense, I was scrolling on your phone and found the most adorable Halloween patterns, and really! How could I resist? Look at this!!! It is too cute to be legal I tell you!” A flick of his wrists had the silken square presented so you could clearly see the design. A ring of dancing jumping spiders holding hands spiraled out of the center to fill the entire block. It was a highly intricate design and probably took him longer than normal with the amount of smaller chains, but you had to admit he was right. You probably would have done the same thing.

 

 

Conveniently forgetting all the other times you in fact did do the exact same thing.

 

 

You tried to hold in your laugh but it sputtered out anyways. “I’m not complaining one bit. You’re right, it is too cute to be legal.” You passed her over to her daddy, who swept her up and swaddled her in the soft white blanket, her tiny shadowed form barely seen through the light greenish gray of the membrane.

 

 

He cradled her in the crook of his arm, cooing at her. “Oh, you’re going to be so beautiful when you hatch. Mommy and Daddy can’t wait to meet you little one. You’re going to be just as gorgeous as Mommy- you’re going to have to bite the heads off of all the other little ones to stop them from flirting with you.”

 

 

“Atraxeus no! We are not going to encourage our little girl to be a cannibal!” You were both horrified and sputtering with laughter as you gave him a playful poke to his ribs, then reached out to retrieve her but he spun around and put his abdomen between you two.

 

 

“Lucindae, yes! You’re going to be our innocent little spiderling for ever and ever and you’re going to nom on all the other little spiderlings that try to date you! Nom nom nom nom nom.”

 

 

You were crying with laughter as he waxed on and on, and when you clambered up onto his abdomen he merely turned and swept you up in his other arm to hold the both of you close.

 

 

You sighed happily. Nobody would ever try to claim it was the most conventional of pairings, Atraxeus and you, but for you, it was perfect.

 

 

 *This was a half remembered prompt from somewhere, all I can recall is the blog author received some requests they loved but didn't have time for? I think? There was a reason they didn't fulfill it so posted for others so they could. I will credit you when I find you!

[theworldoffostering]

So much snow. And cold. And sadness.

It’s NB’s birthday this week. He will be FIVE! Can we please take a moment to reflect on his birth? His mom called me at 5am and told me she was in the ER at a hospital nearly an hour away from me, asking me to come meet her. I did. Upon arrival, the OBGYN came into the room and said she was going to have the baby now and gave me a gown so I could head back into the OR and watch the c-section. Never in my life did I imagine that would be how I was spending my morning/day. NB was born and I sat with him until the ambulance came to transfer him to a larger hospital with a NICU. NB was about six weeks early, and born addicted, but was mostly a feeder and grower. His NICU experience was fairly bland except it happened 71 miles away from us during the polar vortex. We commuted daily and spent many nights there despite DH and I both working full-time.

NB was born the day before Ms. 6’s adoption. I sent her an email today asking if she was ready to talk. I don’t think she is, but wanted to put the ball into her court and let her know that we were. She’s requesting contact with NB, but no one else, and we have refused. It’s so weird to me. In her biological home, Ms. 6 was very much the favorite, and Ms. 6 now has made NB her favorite, and frankly that is a major benefit of her no longer being here—we no longer have to choose to manage that dynamic. But I’m also still sad over all of the loss. (For sure I am also relieved.) It’s confusing and complicated.

DH’s family situation continues to be challenging. His sister’s situation is worse than we had initially known, and his mom’s cancer is potentially back. She’ll find out for sure this week. How do you handle death of a parent when the parent hates you and is actively trying to destroy your marriage? I feel bad for DH, and also clueless as to how to make anything easier/better in this situation.

I also saw DD last week. She came over to pick up some Christmas gifts that my mom had sent for her. About 90% of what she said during her visit were straight up lies. I’m sad, frustrated, disappointed. Is this part of the disease, or is this just who she is?

I don’t know you guys, I am sort of just asking myself, “What is the point?” Like what was the point of doing all of the work to get Ms. 6? We are completely isolated in our own community due to it, and she has rained down so much pain and trauma on our family/other kids. What was the point? She got out of a residential setting, was safe here, experienced life, went on vacations, and acquired the skills to graduate high school (she’s done—she just finished in December). Was that the point? Is that enough to justify all of the harm done to the people left standing?

DD left an orphanage in Eastern Europe, and I think it probably (not trying to be dramatic) saved her life. As a person with cerebral palsy, I’m not sure how many years she would have made it in the orphanage, and aging out would probably mean being on the streets. It was such a miracle that she got out of Eastern Europe when she did (truly), that I always felt like she was destined for great things. And by great, I mean typical adulting like having a job, being in a stable relationship, etc. That’s not what’s happening, and I’m crushed by the loss of that dream, and feeling like I am losing hope for her future to be more than what it currently is. It could probably be worse, but not having an authentic relationship with her is particularly painful to me as she’s my first child and for many years, it was just she and I. We were a family and I felt so connected to her. Having the relationship we have now feels to me like an accute loss. So again, what’s the point is the question that keeps rearing up for me.

It’s weird to be a foster parent for so long, be entirely dedicated to it with your whole self, and then be left wondering, “Does it even matter?”

[greyfongschemmenti]

overall thoughts on tdp??? Now that you’re done watching, which season/story-line/character (besides our iconic queen General and Aunt Amaya 👑) was your fave? Any moments throughout that you really felt or really spoke to you?

The dynamic of characters in this show is so interesting. The theme throughout the whole show is something that resonates with me because it's how I live my life. Despite what you hear about a certain group of people you should have an open mind. This is just some of my thoughts and opinions on some of the characters. There might be spoilers so read at your own risk.

I love Seasons 1-3 and if it wasn’t for the wedding preparations and scenes with Amaya. I wouldn’t have watched season 4. I felt like the whole season was complete filler. The series could’ve ended at the 3rd season and be solid. Season 4 didn’t really get my attention compared to the previous seasons. I hope the story picks up in season 5. I just need more Amaya 😭 lol

Callum starting as a kid who doesn't know where he belongs because he isn't a fighter or have anything useful to help the kingdom. He is the stepson of the king. Turns out he is a mage and he instantly knows that he wants to be a good light mage and nothing like what his former crush, Claudia is. Speaks on his character and reminds me a lot of his mom.

Ezran, such a baby doll, is quirky and awkward. Has a difficulty talking to people and has a special connection with animals. He has a kind heart and sees the good in people. He doesn't allow outside comments deter his judgement on a person. He reminds me so much of Antonio from Encanto. He is a fave for sure. He is a type of King that I would love to see in the real world.One that rules with kind and compassion instead with a drive for power or holier than thou.

Rayla being a moonshadow assassin. While Rayla claims to despise humans, on the inside she doesn't truly hate them. She doesn't see them as lesser beings than herself, unlike the rest of the elves. It causes this inner turmoil on her belief as a moon shadow assassin verses her morals. She constantly checking her morals and doing better. Willing to put her life on the line to do the right thing.

Claudia, her development was scary, I know there's some good but she continues down this dark path, that its sad. I was so hoping that she would run away with Soren. I really hope there is some way she can redeem herself in the upcoming season but I feel like she's so far down the rabbit hole that it's too deep a hole for her to come out of. The reason why I say Claudia's development is scary s because she knows she is becoming darker. Each season she is at a point where she pushes that morality further. She crosses that limit and instead of realizing ok that's enough. She knows it's bad and accepts it with no regret. Only to surpass it again the next time. There is nothing that will stop her to get what she wants.

Soren, at first I didn't care about him because he was this jerk who constantly picked on Callum, but Soren definitely grew. The first season I feel like the creators wanted us to see Soren as this idiot jock that heavily relies on his physical strength. It also didn't help that Viren and Claudia also treated him as such. As the series goes on he is so much more than that. His development throughout the series is one of the best, imo. He has this emotional intelligence that came to a surprise. He does have silly moments where he acts first but then he realizes his mistakes and changes. When Soren realized how he was manipulated by his dad. He went against his dad. This is so hard to do. He loves his dad and his sister so for him to renounce his loyalty from his family and follow the crown. Then on top of that having to go to war and the person you're fighting is your own father and sister. That hits the heart in more ways than one. His redemption arc is honestly chef's kiss. Soren is a good boi.

Amaya, my my my Amaya. She is wife. Once she appeared on the screen I had heart eyes immediately. Like I was already shopping for rings! I think I have a thing for strong stoic types who are really big softies. She's both an immovable object and an unstoppable force in battle. Amaya is thoughtful, honorable, compassionate and smart. Brutal, driven and capable. Pragmatic and adaptable. Her character design and fight choreography is stylish af. I could watch her fight it's like watching a dance. Her shield is honestly really cool and interesting design. Even though she's a tough person that flips switches so fast once she's with her nephews. She turns into this big softy that is so adorable and honestly is why I fell hard for her. She has a heart of gold and isn't afraid to jump into the line of fire to protect the people she loves. Her nephews, Gren, Janai, her soldiers, her kingdom. I could go on about Amaya.

Bait, Bait is the best. I can't get over him. He has a range of emotions and is the bestest boi. He deserves all the tarts.

Bonus:

I can't get over the fact that Amaya threw Bait in a perfect spiral throw. Bait is beauty. Bait is grace.

[celestiall0tus]

Tales of Bloody Bug and Chat Noir - Chapter 28 - Root

Beginning || Previous || Next

            Alix stirred from a deep sleep. She groaned as a minor ache pierced her head. She shook her head as she sat up. She glanced around the empty room and saw Adrien on the couch with their kwamis, watching her.

            “You don’t need to watch over me. I’m alive.”

            “I know, but that doesn’t mean I’m not worried.”

            “Right. Yesterday was… an eye opener.”

            “Are you ready to talk?”

            “Do I really have a choice?”

            “No, but I figured I’d give the option. Come on.”

            “Where are we going?”

            “Chloe’s prepared a private lunch in the restaurant for us and a few others.”

            Alix took a deep breath before she followed Adrien. They stepped into the restaurant and saw Alim, Jalil, Rose, Mylene, and Ivan sitting at a table. Chloe stood off to the side with Sabrina beside her. Alix hesitated until Adrien took her hand and led her to the table where they took their seats. Alim turned as Alix took her seat, stood up, and hugged her.

            “Oh, Alix! I’m relieved to see you awake. Are you alright? How are you feeling? What happened?” Alim asked.

            “I… I’ll explain everything,” Alix muttered.

            “You better! You had us worried sick!” Rose yelled.

            “Yeah. We thought you died,” Ivan added.

            “I… I kinda did,” Alix admitted.

            Everyone gasped in horror while Jalil’s eyes lit up.

            “What was it like? What did you see? Was there an afterlife?” Jalil asked.

            “Jalil, not now,” Alim hissed.

            “Ok. Ok.”

            “Now then, Alix, what happened? What sent you over the edge?” Alim asked.

            Alix sighed. “I saw Nathaniel hurt someone and got angry. I stormed in and threw him into the fountain. When I did, I saw flashes of the past. Of what I did to Chloe, and it scared me. And I… I ran. I slipped. I let myself become that monster again and feared it would return to hurt others. When Nathaniel found me when he was Evillustrator, I just… let go.”

            Alim’s face fell. “Let go? Alix, you don’t mean…?”

            “I… I did. Even when Evillustrator threw me into the cold water, I didn’t fight it. I… I accepted it and my… my end. Even when Hawkmoth tried to promise me the chance to see my mom, I didn’t accept it. I… I told him I’d see her soon in death. And I did.”

            “What?” everyone yelled.

            “I saw her along a long road. I ran to embrace her, but she didn’t share my joy. I hoped to see her excited to see me, but she was sad… and disappointed. She turned away from me despite my pleas and vanished. That was when Gallic Chick brought me back. And I… I really messed up, Dad. I’m… I’m so sorry.”

            Alim took a shaky breath as he pulled Alix close to him. A solemn silence fell over the table as Alix broke down in tears. Adrien and Jalil stood and joined in the embrace.

            “It’s ok, Alix. We’re here. You aren’t alone,” Jalil said.

            “We don’t blame you for what happened. It’s ok,” Adrien added.

            “You should. It’s all my fault. I stopped fighting. I gave up. I almost left all of you just like my mom abandoned me,” Alix sobbed.

            “Alix, honey, she didn’t abandon you,” Alim whispered.

            “I know, but it doesn’t feel that way. It never has. I know she was sick. I know she was going to die, but it still feels like she left me. That she abandoned me. My mom, that guiding light, my everything, and she left me alone. It doesn’t matter how many times I remind myself that she loved me, that she wanted to stay, I can never convince myself that she didn’t abandon me.”

            “Alix?” Mylene whispered.

            Alix turned and looked at Mylene and Chloe with blurry, tear-filled eyes. They each extended a hand to Alix. Alix sniffled and took their hands as they pulled her into a hug.

            “You’re not alone, Alix. My mother abandoned me too. She left me and Dad when I was young, so I don’t remember much about her except the lullabies that I miss everyday and her enrapturing stories that stole me away to a whole other world,” Mylene confided.

            “And my mother left me too. Daddy said she left shortly after I was born but came back only to leave when I was six. I still remember that day. Her with her suitcase, heading off, and leaving me and Daddy behind,” Chloe whispered.

            Alix’s eyes widened as she stared ahead. She processed Mylene and Chloe’s confessions before she returned their embrace.

            “My mother was my everything. The person I am is the person she was. I wanted nothing more than to be her because she was strong, brave, and bold. I thought her invincible, until she got sick. I watched the woman that was untouchable fade away until a corpse was all that was left. I know she never chose to be sick, never chose to wither away, but it still feels like she left me all alone without her light to guide me,” Alix admitted.

            “I can relate. Dad does his best, I know he does, but it’s not the same. I don’t get the same comfort I did with Mom. I try not to think about it most days, but her absence is always there in the back of my mind. It’s paired with the hope that she’ll come back, even when I know she never will,” Mylene confided.

            “I never had what you two did, but it never stopped me from trying. Even now, I try to be like Mother in hopes that she’ll love me and come home. It’s foolish, but I just want her in my life. I want her to love me as much as she loves her job, but I know it’ll never happen,” Chloe confessed.

            Alix, Chloe, and Mylene fell to their knees as they remained in their embrace. Everyone else watched in silence as the group cried and found comfort in each other until Mylene lifted her head.

            “Alix, and Chloe, let’s make a promise here between the three of us. Let us be the best versions of ourselves that we can be. Not what our mothers would have wanted, not who they were and are, but as ourselves. Let us find new experiences, no matter how painful and scary they may be. And let’s always have each other to fall back on. We don’t have to be alone anymore. We can have each other,” Mylene offered.

            “I don’t know, Mylene. I’ve tried for so long to be something without her guiding me. All it got me was anger, and a monster I can’t escape from, just like her. I can’t be more than what she was,” Alix whispered.

            “That’s because you were alone, Alix. Even when you had people with you, you were alone, but not anymore. I see you, and I’m here. We all are, but there’s an understanding that only you, Chloe, and myself can understand. Even if you shut us out, you’ll never be alone again moving forward. So, why don’t we all move forward together?”

            Mylene stood and offered her hands to Chloe and Alix. They exchanged hesitant glances, then looked up at Mylene.

            “I’m not sure. I agree with Alix. I don’t know how to be more than what I’ve become. Even if I did, I don’t think I could be happy being something I’m not,” Chloe remarked.

            “Yeah. And let’s not forget how everyone else feels about us. I’m just a raging bitch with no time or patience, and Chloe is just a bitch. Even if we change, what’s the point if no one else wants to bother with us after everything we’ve done?” Alix challenged.

            “Because it’s not about what other people want you to be, but who you want to be. Even if the world doesn’t accept you, you’ll find people that do. It’s those people you want to keep close. Just as your mother and I did,” Alim said.

            “Yeah! You don’t need others that’ll force you to be something that makes them happy. You just need people like all of us here. We’ll always accept you as you are. Both of you,” Adrien added.

            “I agree! I think you’re both amazing in your own ways. You’re both tough, no-nonsense ladies, and there’s a lot to admire in that. Even when you’re being rude and crass,” Rose added.

            “Even through all that, there are sweet sides to you. I, uh, can’t say for you, Chloe, but I’ve seen Alix’s sweet side. It’s not what you’d expect of Rose or Mylene, but Alix shows it in her own way,” Ivan added.

            “And we’re here, for both of you. I’m here for both of you. Even if you refuse, you’re stuck with me,” Mylene said with a wink.

            Alix blinked several times before a smile spread on her face. She grabbed Mylene’s hand and got to her feet.

            “Alright, Mylene, we’ll see where this goes. Cross me though, and you’ll get the Marinette and Alya treatment,” Alix warned.

            “I do care for Marinette and Alya, but I do have to admit the pair can be a little…,” Mylene started.

            “Self-absorbed and ignorant?” Sabrina butted in.

            “Those are… words. I would have sooner said stubborn and well-meaning, but I suppose those work too.”

            “Mademoiselle Bourgeois? Lunch has been prepared,” the head chef announced.

            Chloe glanced over and hopped to her feet. “Alright, everyone, take your seats. Enough of this mushy nonsense. Today, we feast!”

            On Chloe’s word, a banquet was laid out before everyone. She soaked up the awe as she raised a glass for a toast.

            “I declare this feast in honor of-,” Chloe started.

            “Of moving on from the past, and into the future,” Mylene butted in.

            “Hey! I was-!” Chloe attempted.

            “Oh! For new friendships and love!” Rose added.

            “I-!” Chloe tried again.

            “To letting the past go and moving on from the burdens of it. And to hope of a better future, together,” Alix declared.

            Chloe blinked, then smiled softly. “Yeah. To letting go of the old and making something new.”

            Everyone cheered and toasted, then dug into the feast.

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[auxiliarydetective]

AP-01: Project Apocalypse

ch. 13: Bleeding Love

AP-01 Masterlist

This fic is part of the Academy Projects series, a full rewrite of The Umbrella Academy with the addition of an original character, Kassandra Hargreeves. Throughout the story, you'll stumble across a few songs. This is supposed to make the fic feel as much like the show as possible, so I recommend you don't skip them.

Warnings: Canon-typical issues, death, grief, mentions of murder

The aura in the room was tense, even long after Diego had left. So, Kassandra went to call Pogo about the whereabouts of herself, Luther and Five, claiming that Diego was “at work”. A simple cordial gesture, she thought, but it felt like giving a mission report. When she came back, she finally caved in and took an ibuprofen from the cabinet, despite having promised herself that she would endure her pain instead. Luther, meanwhile, had pulled up a chair next to the bed and was watching Five sleep, fidgeting with his fingerless gloves.

“All the stuff that Five said,” he muttered, “about the apocalypse, the end of days, the four horsemen… Is it true?”

Kassandra didn’t reply. Instead, she scrunched her face in sadness and picked Delores up off her chair. Luther sighed.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“He told me not to tell anyone,” she explained, gently placing Delores on the bed next to Five. “To stay put and not get myself in danger, to keep all of you in check. I guess I failed miserably at that.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” Luther mumbled. “All I do these days is fail.”

“Don’t say that,” Kassandra said, putting down a chair for herself next to him. “We found Five, that’s a success.”

“You found Five. That’s a thing you could’ve done all on your own. Meanwhile, I accused all of you of murder and voted to have Mom killed.”

“You’re just out of practice. Being a leader is hard. It’s about making the tough calls, but it’s also about intuition. You need to know your team. And of course that part is lacking, we haven’t been together in over 13 years and a lot has changed since then. … You’ll get it eventually.”

Luther managed a hint of a smile, but fell back into staring sadly at Five.

“Do we have an eventually?” he asked.

“You’ll get it,” Kassandra said. “I promise.”

There was silence between them again, but it wasn’t smothering for once. In fact, it almost felt like they were kids again, sitting in the attic and looking at the stars. Maybe it was that same nostalgic feeling that prompted Luther to bring up an old topic again.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, his voice slightly warped.

“Anything,” Kassandra replied, giving him a soft smile. “I just hope I can answer.”

“Why did you leave?”

Of course. This question again.

“Diego said something about ‘that’s what you do when you’re seventeen’, moving out and building your own life and all that,” he recalled, “but I don’t think that was it for you. I mean, the way I remember you, you were ride or die for the Academy. You wouldn’t have left for all the money in the world, you were always there for everyone and just trying to keep us together, as much as it didn’t wanna work. And then, after the funeral, you just disappeared in the middle of the night, like you didn’t even care at all. It just… it made no sense. It still makes no sense. I’m just trying to understand what happened, what I did wrong.”

Kassandra chuckled, though it came out as more of a sob. “Oh, Luther, you still don’t get it. You didn’t fail as a leader, you tried your best. And me leaving had nothing to do with you, I promise. It’s not that I didn’t care either – it’s that I cared too much. I loved you, all of you, and that’s why I had to leave.”

“I don’t get it,” Luther muttered, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Your job ended when a mission was done. After that, we were all back to training and being bitter on our own. But my work was never over. I can’t block out any feelings or thoughts, they just come raining down, and with seven other people in the house, all beaten down by our father and training and fighting… When Ben died, it all became too much.”

“So, you ran.”

“A lot of things happened in those few days between Ben’s death and the funeral. A lot of them you already know… a lot of them I can’t talk about,” Kassandra said hoarsely. “But I hope you know… Running was the best option. It was best for me and it was best for all of you. My other options were…” She shook her head and cleared her throat. “It would’ve been bad, that’s all I’ll say, and you would’ve been even angrier at me than you are now.”

“No, I’m not angry,” Luther mumbled. “Not anymore. I still don’t get it but… I guess I just… I was alone.”

“I know. And I wish I could’ve been there with you.”

Gently, Kassandra placed her gloved hand on his thigh, a silent offer. Luther managed a hint of a smile, covering it with his large hand. Their fingers wouldn’t slot together anymore, but otherwise…

“Why don’t you try and sleep?” Kassandra suggested. “You’re gonna need all of your energy for dealing with Five tomorrow.”

“My sleep schedule is still messed up from being on the moon,” Luther shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep even if I wanted to. But you’re injured and that means you should rest. So, as your leader,” he said, causing a chuckle from both him and his sister, “I say that you should sleep.”

Kassandra smiled, looking down at her shoes in an attempt to find an excuse. “If I’m being honest,” she finally said, “I really don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“I… Ever since Five came back, I’ve been having these weird nightmares.”

“About the apocalypse?”

“Mhm. I just… I think my powers don’t even stop when I’m asleep. I’m constantly sucking up the thoughts of others and they haunt me in my dreams. And all I’ve been thinking about since Five came back is…” Her eyes gave a little warning glow, glazing over white before she could try to say anything.

“Well, have you ever tried what would happen if you fell asleep while being bound to someone?” Luther asked. “Y’know, mind reading-wise?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Kassandra muttered.

“Well, I volunteer as a test subject,” Luther smiled, letting go of her hand. “Maybe you’ll dream about the moon.”

Kassandra chuckled, but a fondness had found its way into her eyes and a warmth spread throughout her chest. Wordlessly, she slid off her glove and laced her fingers with Luther’s, slipping into a world so familiar yet so new. It didn’t take long for her head to drop onto his shoulder, her mind whisked away into a peaceful sleep.

-

When Kassandra woke up again, she heard quiet muttering, voices she could soon decipher as being Luther and Five. As soon as they noticed her stirring, they interrupted their conversation.

“Oh, you’re up,” Five commented, trying to sound snarky but coming off very sad.

The entire room was covered in a dark cloud, letting Kassandra know exactly what they had been talking about.

“Yeah, yeah… – C’mon, Luther, you should’ve woken me up,” she groaned, trying to rub her eyes only to find one hand gloved, the other not.

“You always were whiny in the morning…”

“Well, you were sleeping soundly for once,” Luther defended himself, “so… I didn’t wanna wake you up.”

“Well, the end of the world is more important.”

“You can’t save the world if you’re running low on sleep, Kass,” Five declared. “It messes with your power. – Speaking of which, does Diego have any coffee?”

“I’ll go look,” Kassandra sighed, picking herself up from the chair and stepping over to the tiny built-in kitchen, only to find that it was pretty dirty.

How could she have expected anything else? This was Diego’s kitchen, after all, and he wasn’t always the most cleanly person. He had always tidied his room to make Mom happy, but aside from that… And to top it off, he had run out of coffee. So, Kassandra promised to treat Five to a cup of coffee once Diego was back and they could all head out, which Luther then quickly extended her having to get him some chocolate milk as well. She was sure Diego would jump at the chance to leech off of her as well. As such, it was only fair that she made herself at home at his place a little. She headed over to the sink and splashed herself with some water so she would wake up, only to toss his towel onto the laundry pile because it reeked and take out a new one. Meanwhile, Luther and Five were back to talking about the apocalypse.

“But how much time do we have?” Luther asked. “I mean, when is this supposed to happen, this… apocalypse?”

“The world ends in four days,” Five declared.

“Four days?! Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Because it wouldn’t have mattered.”

“Of course it would’ve mattered! We could’ve banded together and—”

“For the record, you already tried.”

“... What?”

Five wanted to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat. Instead, he motioned to Kassandra, who gave a little sigh. She sat back down next to Luther and pulled off her gloves once more, offering her hands to him.

“Maybe take a deep breath before you go in,” she suggested.

Luther did as he was told, then placed his hands around hers, connecting their minds. Like this, Kassandra showed him what she had seen while bonded with Five. The wasteland, the destroyed Academy, their siblings’ bodies in the rubble alongside their own. With widened eyes staring into emptiness, Luther pulled back.

“We all die?” he whispered.

“Horribly,” Five confirmed.

That was when Kassandra felt a shiver go down her spine, almost making her shake. It was like a dozen needles shooting into her back, a hammering in her skull, unbelievable pressure on her limbs…

“Five,” she interrupted, unable to listen to the conversation anymore. “You might want to leave.”

Immediately, Five’s eyes lit up a little and his slumped posture tensed up.

“Why?”

“Diego is coming back and he’s furious at you.”

“Oh, just him…”

Suddenly, the door flew open, slamming into the wall behind it with a loud, metallic clang. Carried by the noise, Diego came rushing in, seemingly ready to commit murder. His head was practically sparking and his aura singed like molten metal.

“Piece of shit,” he growled.

He was headed straight towards Five, anger and sorrow in his eyes. Immediately, both Kassandra and Luther jumped up to stand in his way, though Kassandra backed away after only a second. Her heart was shattered in a million pieces, strings the strength of a hair just barely keeping them together

“Do you have any idea what you just did?!” Diego yelled.

It took Luther’s super strength to hold him back as he was lifted from the ground, struggling and wriggling like a feral animal.

“Let me get— No— Get your ape hands off of me!”

“I can do this for as long as it takes you to calm down,” Luther remarked.

Kassandra wanted to say something. She really did. But the onslaught of emotions raining down left little to be said. What could she say that he would want to hear or even accept hearing? Slowly, Diego stopped struggling. He scoffed.

“… Fine.”

Luther let him go, dropping him to the floor.

“Now: Wanna tell us what you’re talking about?”

“Our brother’s been pretty busy since he got back,” Diego hissed, trying and failing to keep his voice from breaking. “He was in the middle of that shootout at Griddy’s and then at Gimble Brothers after the guys in masks attacked the Academy looking for him.”

“None of which is any of your concern,” Five commented in a bored yet melancholic fashion.

Diego’s eyes were widened with the horrors he had seen. “It is now”, he said between shaky breaths, panting like a helpless, frightened rabbit. “They just killed my friend.”

She had been more than just a friend. Kassandra felt it yelled at her, everything Diego had felt for Eudora Patch, every ounce of love turned to pain. As Luther’s eyes went demandingly to Five, Kassandra’s were caught on Diego. She hoped that they spoke everything she failed to say and that they didn’t betray her and make her cry.

“Who are they, Five?” Luther demanded to know.

Kassandra wished she could tell them. She wanted to spit everything out, but she knew the words would get stuck in her throat because Five kept everything a secret. An iron capsule ever since they had been kids.

“… They work for my former employer,” he finally confessed. “A woman called The Handler. She sent them. To stop me. Then, soon as Diego’s friend got in the way, well… fair game.”

Horrified, Kassandra stared at Five. Fair game?! How could he say something like that?

“And now they’re my fair game”, Diego growled. “And I’m gonna see to it they pay.”

“That would be a mistake, Diego, they’ve killed people far more dangerous than you.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

Just like that, Diego rushed out of the room again. With the slam of the door, Kassandra snapped out of her frozen state, shuddering in horror. She shook her head almost violently, then turned to look at Five and Luther again.

“Promise me that you’ll deal with this,” she said firmly, enunciating every word so she wouldn’t stumble. “No more secrets, Five. Not in our family.” Then, she nodded in the direction of the door, her voice nearly failing. “I’ll take care of him.”

So, she ran up the stairs and out through the door, pain shooting into her ankle, her gloves left behind on her chair. She sprinted through the gym and out into the back alley, looking around.

“Diego!” she called, spotting him about to get into his car.

He paused, his posture somewhere between slumped and tense, his aura an unbeatable hurricane, he himself impossible to reach within the eye of the storm.

“What do you want, Kassandra?” he croaked, his eyes glistening with tears.

“I can’t let you go like this.”

“You gonna try to stop me?”

“No. I know I can’t do that, but…”

Carefully, she stepped closer, trying not to scare him away. Her words to Luther ghosted through her mind, her memories of the day that Ben had died, of the night she had left… She swallowed them down, pulling herself back to the present.

“I want you to know that I’m still here. And I won’t leave. Not now and never again. You’re not alone with your feelings and you never should’ve been. But I’m here now. And whatever you need—”

Suddenly, Diego pulled her against him and started to sob, finally breaking down. He clung on to her as if his life depended on it and she let him, gently rubbing his back. They leaned against each other like two candles in the wind and she sent him all the love she could gather, all her comfort and compassion, trying her hardest not to let her barrier break. This was about him, it was all about him, and if she could make him happy, or at least help him feel a little better, then she would be better too.

“I’m sorry,” Diego whispered. “I’m sorry for how I treated you, I just…”

“I know,” Kassandra replied, gently pulling away and cupping his face. “You think I don’t know you? I know you. You were never good at expressing your emotions and being vulnerable. It’s just what you do, you get upset, you need an outlet, and then you yell at people, even when you don’t mean to. That’s nothing new and there’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“No, there’s plenty to be sorry about. Because you were right to leave. And you—”

“No, let’s not talk about that now,” Kassandra cut in, running her fingers through his hair. “We can talk about that when we have time but, for now, those bastards are still out there, and they still have Klaus, right?”

Diego furrowed his brows as confusion took over, then he gulped down his tears. “Yeah. Yeah, they do. Fuck, this—”

“This is not your fault. We were all there when it happened and none of us managed to prevent it. – Diego, you’ve suffered enough. Don’t make this worse for yourself. If I didn’t know you were a knife-throwing vigilante, I’d tell you to rest, but you can’t do that, can you?”

Diego chuckled lightly, wiping his eyes. “No, I really can’t.”

“Then go and get those bastards,” Kassandra said with a hint of a smile. “But do me a favour and don’t confront them on your own. I’ll be at the Academy, so just make a quick call.”

“Kass, you should rest. Your foot—”

“I know, Diego. I’ll send Luther or Allison – or Five if he can be bothered. I promise, I’ll hold down the base from now on.”

“The grand planner, just like old times,” Diego mumbled, ruffling her hair, careful not to hurt her. Then, he wanted to get in the car, but paused yet again. “Hey, you ever wonder…” he muttered “... if things hadn’t gone wrong, what would’ve happened? If Ben hadn’t died, if Five had never time-travelled…?”

Kassandra sighed, mixed in with a chuckle, her eyes sinking to the ground. All the time, she thought. All the time. There were a dozen variants of the present in her head, wishful thinking that she escaped from reality with, but also a million dots of regret, both big and small, mixing together into a blurry image.

“I think one of us would’ve killed Dad,” she finally said.

Diego scoffed, a smirk on his lips. “Yeah, I wish.”

Then, he finally got in the car and, with a reminder to drive safely, he drove away.

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[sadie-walker]

Ten minutes had passed since they first sat down.

The ticking of the clock on her therapist’s wall was relentless in its pursuit to fill the silence. Sadie hadn’t said a word since their arrival outside of the initial introduction, this being the first time Wes had joined them for a session – even as a silent observer.

Despite the addition of his company, Dr. Burke didn’t move to begin the session. It was a general rule that the patient started the conversation. A rule which Sadie had loathed since the beginning.

Sadie could feel Wes move beside her, the dark leather of the couch shifting beneath them. Out of her peripheral vision, she noticed the way he appraised their surroundings – his gaze sweeping from where Dr. Burke was seated to the bookshelves lining the walls, where the degrees, certifications, and various knick-knacks were on display.

This went on for just a few moments before Sadie drew his attention back to her by reaching for his hand. She clasped their hands together tightly in her lap and when Wes’ fingers encouragingly squeezed around her own, Sadie finally let her gaze settle solely on Dr. Burke.

“I left home a year ago today,” Sadie began softly. “But you – the both of you knew that already.”

Dr. Burke glanced at her and with a nod of his head silently urged her to continue.

“I feel good. Good, but there’s a heaviness? I thought – ” There was a slight tremor in her voice and Sadie fidgeted nervously in her seat. “I hoped I wouldn’t be so affected by the anniversary. That I wouldn’t react badly or revert back to old ways of coping. But it’s been… I’ve realized I haven’t been the greatest person the past couple of days.”

“No one can blame you for reacting,” Dr. Burke interrupted – conveying a point he’d made during countless sessions before. “You’ve suffered a loss. You’re still grieving. We’ve touched on this before. Grief is a constant. You’re not only mourning the loss of your family, but the loss of the life you once knew. You’re still learning to exist, to navigate being this person beyond their hold.”

“No, I know, I get that. It’s not…” There was a pause. “There are moments where I do feel sad that I’ve lost this big part of my life, but I know that the choice I made was the right one. It’s just that I thought by this point it wouldn’t be such a struggle.” Sadie took in a steadying breath. Her eyes shut for a split second, then snapped back open. “The dream – nightmare is constant now. It’s become a nightly thing.”

Sadie breathed a short sigh. The confession lingered in the air. Only the sound of pen scratching against paper was heard as Dr. Burke jotted down notes. “So the nightmare persists?” Dr. Burke said after a moment. “You’re in the church, correct? Tell me again how it goes.”

“I’m in my childhood church – it’s always the church – and I’m walking between the pews to the front. I can see my mom there. She’s kneeling before the priest, my brother, and she’s holding…well, she’s holding a baby.”

Dr. Burke stopped her with a raise of his hand. “Do we have an idea of who the baby is?”

“I don’t know. It could be me, but I can’t be sure? I never actually get to see the baby, I just see my mom holding this bundle above her head like an offering. My dad is there watching. He looks proud. I try to ask what they’re doing, but I can’t speak. Nothing comes out.” Sadie took in a breath. Her hand that wasn’t occupied moved and her fingers swept comfortingly over the wedding band settled on Wes’ finger.

“Wes is there too.” Sadie admitted quietly. “He grabs me – he grips my shoulders and just starts shaking me.” Her head turned and her eyes locked onto Wes’ face, the tension in his jaw evident. She gave his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. The pad of her thumb drew soothing circles along the stretch of skin there. “It’s not…he isn’t hurting me, he’s just panicked. Trying to get me to talk to him. I can hear it clearly even now. ‘Sadie, what’s happening, tell me what’s happened’ Over and over.”

Dr. Burke peered at her over the top of his glasses, silently assessing her. His lips pressed into a thin line before asking in a quiet tone. “Have you discussed this with him before?”

Wes was quick to shake his head ‘no’ in response, though Sadie quickly interjected. “I’ve never told him details – just that the nightmares were happening. ”

“What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m just worried about… reverting back to that girl who was so desperate to stay in the good graces of… of God… and of my parents or…” Her words trailed off. Sadie leaned forward and the comforting hold she held on Wes’ hand released as she shifted to the edge of the seat. “Or I’m worried they’re somehow going to ruin this – us – and our future.”

“I think there could be a few root causes to these dreams,” Dr. Burke cut in. “First and foremost it sounds to me that your subconscious is trying to convince you to let Wes in.”

Sadie opened her mouth to argue, the retort on the tip of her tongue. Dr. Burke continued to speak with his voice stifling her reply. “Sadie, you said so yourself that you’ve been withholding details. ”

“That’s different. I tell him when I’m struggling, when things are tough. He knows.”

“But you don’t confide in him – not fully.” Dr. Burke held her gaze steadily. “How would you feel if he kept important details from you? Thoughts. Feelings. Things from his past.”

“Hurt,” Sadie admitted immediately, breaking eye contact. Her gaze dropped to her lap and she fiddled with the diamond on her finger. She felt when Wes’ hand came down – his palm cradling her thigh. A sigh sounded. “But I don’t want to burden him with my problems more than I already do.”

“Do you feel burdened when he confides in you?”

“Never,” Sadie said without hesitation. Her hand came down to cover across Wes’ own and her fingers slotted between his. Instinctively, she shifted closer until their shoulders touched – the invisible barrier she’d created between them disappearing.

“Then I think we can agree that moving forward, you need to be more transparent. He should know more, but for now he at least deserves to know that you’ll try.”

“I can do that.”

There was a rustle as Dr. Burked flipped to the next page of his notepad, the lines blank and ready to be filled. “This is a great start, very good. Let’s pause this, let it settle.” With a quick clear of his throat, he took control of the session. “Why don’t we – let’s go back to what we started to discuss on Monday…”

They still had a half an hour left.

[maxbegone]

i know it’s super late in the day for this, and honestly i can’t even remember what i’ve shared in the past and what i haven’t, but @morganaspendragonss, @reyescarlos and @rmd-writes all tagged me so i have to share something from the roadtrip au ♥️

“That was my jersey.”

“What?”

“That Jonah was wearing,” TK explains and oh. The picture Enzo sent. “I played hockey for a few years, and Mom kept it. I gave it to Jonah before I left.” He grows solemn. “Mom left him, and now I’ve left him. This whole trip I’ve been trying to fight how guilty I’ve been feeling about it.”

“TK—”

“Please.” He holds a hand up. “Don’t give me a speech. And don’t tell me you're sorry.”

He doesn’t. Not right away, at least, but the words are clawing at his throat and he can’t seem to stop them.

“TK,” he tries again, softer, “I really am sorry about your mom.”

“What did I just tell you?” He asks, monotone, but there’s no heat behind it as he huffs out a humorless laugh. “I don’t know why everyone says that. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ How the hell are you supposed to respond? ‘Thanks, so am I’?” He shakes his head, wrapping his arms around his knees. “And how sorry is a person, really? They can barely know you and it’s sorry this, sorry that, I just—” TK stops himself. “Nevermind.”

Carlos just watches him.

“You know, I really thought that I would stay in New York once I graduated. That I’d get a job somewhere in the city and visit my dad as often as I could. Now she’s gone and we didn’t work out, and instead of sitting around not sure what to do with myself or falling back into old habits, I’m being…proactive, I guess?” TK pauses. “You’re right, I’ll still see my brother grow up and I can visit whenever I want. But I just can’t help but wonder if he’s confused about where everyone went, you know?”

“He’s gonna be okay,” Carlos swears, hoping he isn’t overstepping too much.

“No, I know he will be.” TK closes his eyes. And then, in a quiet, raspy voice he says, “He was there, Carlos. With my mom when she died. He’s gonna be so traumatized.”

TK gradually told him more and more the night he showed up at his doorstep. Carlos had known that she had pushed Jonah’s stroller out of the way, that she had seen it coming, but this is the first time he’s said this to him. If his heart wasn’t already cracking in two, it sure is now.

TK doesn’t speak for a while, and Carlos doesn’t seem to prompt him. He just brings up a hand to rub between his shoulder blades after some consideration, hoping it’s as much of an affirmation as any that he’s right there.

The first time he met Gwyn was by accident. TK had been staying at her place for the week while she was away on business, and Carlos had spent more than a few nights. However, TK had gotten the days mixed up and they had woken up one morning to find her sitting in the kitchen with a book and a cup of coffee as the two of them walked in sleep-rumpled and hanging off one another.

Of course the awkward encounter led to a forced introduction, but once they got past that, Carlos learned that Gwyn was a lovely woman — not that he had any doubts. He could see where TK got some of his best qualities from.

When they broke up, it was the first time Carlos realized that he would be missing more than just the person, but the family that came with it. Not that he’s diminishing how much TK had meant to him then. Still means to him.

He pulls himself out of it.

“Is that why you’ve been so excited about this trip?” Carlos finds himself asking after some time, and TK gives him a look. “Or that you’ve been so—”

“So what? Happy? Optimistic?” He stares him down. “Maybe it’s because when you spend the better part of a year surrounded by grief, you tend to start forcing yourself to turn around. Maybe it’s because I didn’t want my brother’s earliest memories to be so sad. Or maybe it’s because, Carlos, despite where you and I stand, you are the only person who really makes me feel good about myself right now. You’re the only person who actually sees me.”

He can’t look away from TK, his breath held as he nervously runs a hand over his mouth.

“Whatever you felt last night was…not not mutual,” he eventually gets out. “So. There.”

TK turns to look back out toward the forest, warm light hitting him in every direction, and all Carlos can do is sit there.

“And maybe it got to a point where I really just wanted to share this place with you, too,” TK adds rather finitely. “It’s as simple as that.”

[chokememaximoff]

Regrets & Resilience IV

Abstract:After six months of training with Matt, the avenger returns home to a warm reception. Wanda's distant assistance hints at her feelings, yet her jealousy flares when the avenger spends time with Matthew. Despite Wanda's efforts, the avenger remains convinced that Wanda's underlying resentment persists.

TW:angst,fluff..all in all none

Stepping into the compound was a whirlwind of emotions. Nervousness coiled within me, mingling with a sense of longing and apprehension. Yet, the moment I crossed the threshold, I was enveloped in a warm embrace of love and support. My dad Tony Stark and my mom Pepper welcomed me with open arms, their smiles reassuring me that I was home.

Amidst laughter and stories exchanged, the air was charged with a sense of familiarity. Spending time with my parents felt like a soothing balm, a reminder that despite the turmoil that had kept me away, these bonds remained unbroken.

But as the evening progressed, my thoughts were inevitably drawn to her—Wanda. Her absence was conspicuous, a void that was difficult to ignore. I caught fleeting glimpses of her, watching from a distance, her gaze filled with a mix of emotions. It was as if she yearned to bridge the gap, yet the fear and guilt that haunted her held her back.

In the midst of our interactions, I began to notice subtle touches that eased my path. Objects that might have obstructed my way were mysteriously moved aside, creating a clear route through the space. It happened when I was coming, a chair gently nudged out of my path, a rug smoothed down. I recognized the pattern, the delicate orchestration of her gestures.

A small smile played on my lips as I grasped what was happening. Her efforts were like whispers in the wind, a silent reassurance that she was there, looking out for me, even from afar. With every step I took, I could feel her presence, her desire to help woven into each action.

It was during one such moment that I rounded a corner, only to find a vase of flowers conveniently shifted to the side, a vase that I knew had been in my way before. As I continued to navigate the space, her touch became more evident, more deliberate. It was in the way a curtain was drawn back, allowing sunlight to filter through, or a cushion arranged just so on a chair.

She believed her actions went unnoticed, that her quiet assistance remained unseen. But with my heightened senses, every shift and movement was revealed to me. Her touch, her presence, her unspoken gestures were like brushstrokes on a canvas, painting a picture of her hidden struggle and the connection that remained beneath the surface.

As the days passed, Wanda's distant presence continued to be a constant companion. Her efforts spoke volumes, an unspoken understanding of the complexities that defined our relationship

...

The next day, as the evening approached, a nervous energy consumed Wanda. With determined steps, she made her way to Y/n's room, a mixture of hope and anxiety churning within her. The door swung open, and her heart sank at the sight of an empty room—reminiscent of the day Y/n had embarked on her six-month journey.

A pang of disappointment swept through Wanda, a reminder of how things had changed. The room, once filled with memories, now felt hollow. Closing the door, she couldn't shake the sense of déjà vu that clung to the moment.

Seeking answers, Wanda found herself once again tracking down Peter Parker, her confidant in times of uncertainty. "Peter, do you know where Y/n is?"

His gaze held a hint of understanding as he met her eyes. "Yeah, she's gone to meet with Matthew."

The words struck Wanda like a blow, stirring a torrent of emotions within her. Jealousy ignited, unbidden, fueled by the thought of Y/n spending time with Matthew. After months of intense training, a connection had likely formed, and the mere idea of their camaraderie set Wanda's heart racing.

Jealousy merged with a deep sadness within Wanda, a complex cocktail of emotions that left her reeling. She couldn't help but envision them together, sharing moments, growing closer. It was a reminder of what she had lost—the person who had become more than just an ally, who had saved her, who she had started to care about.

As Wanda grappled with the weight of her feelings, a sense of resignation settled over her. Y/n had moved on, finding companionship and support in the arms of someone else. It was a stark realization, a reflection of the choices she had made, the distance she had let grow between them.

Amidst the tangle of emotions, Wanda couldn't escape the truth that she was grappling with her own regrets and insecurities. The possibility of Y/n finding solace elsewhere was a stark reminder of the consequences of her actions, the bridges she had burned, and the connections she had pushed away.

..

I find myself in the presence of Matthew. With a playful grin, I mention Wanda's recent actions, trying to lighten the mood. Matthew, who's well aware of my feelings towards Wanda, chuckles knowingly, his eyes betraying an understanding of the turmoil within me.

We exchange a few jokes, sharing a camaraderie that's built on trust and shared experiences. The weight of the emotions surrounding Wanda is temporarily lifted, replaced by a sense of ease that comes from being with someone who knows me so well. I'm grateful for Matthew's presence, for the moments of laughter that he brings into my life.

But as the evening deepens and I'm left alone with my thoughts, I can't help but reflect on everything that's transpired. The kindness Wanda extended, her attempts to help me even from a distance, they all stem from a place of basic human goodness. It's a reminder that beneath the layers of resentment and pain, there's still a glimmer of compassion within her.

Despite her actions, despite her efforts to assist me in her own way, the truth remains that there's a divide that's grown between us. No matter the gestures, no matter the attempts at reconciliation, the core of our relationship is marred by a history that can't be erased. It's a difficult realization to grapple with – that kindness can coexist with hatred, that the human heart is capable of holding conflicting emotions.

As I lay in my thoughts, I can't shake the feeling that Wanda's kindness, her distance, they all stem from a place of unresolved pain. And no matter how much she helps or tries to be present, the shadow of past mistakes looms large, casting a veil over any attempts to mend what's broken. In the end, the harsh truth remains – Wanda may be helping, but she still hates me, and that reality is something I can't escape, no matter how much I wish for a different outcome.

[ladycatofwinterfell]

Ohhh this sound fun 💀

Fun you said? Angst and death for you, enjoy! Ned, Ned it rhymes with dead etc etc

Lyanna placed the plate in front of Rickon and he had taken a bite of the sandwich on it before he had time to thank her for it. Benjen had somehow managed to coax a little conversation out of Jon, Arya and Robb, so they were talking a bit about school. Sansa sat with he phone in one hand and headphones on. Lyanna had tried to get her to take them off, but had quickly given up. Bran was quiet and had eaten nothing, but had smiled a few times at Brandon’s feeble attempts at jokes.

It was a table surrounded with people who had lost their colour and joy, only sitting there because they knew it was what was best. Would it ever pass, would they ever be their own again? Lyanna hoped so with every inch of her being, but it was hard when her heart ached in her chest the way it did.

Catelyn’s absence was very obvious, but she could take all the time she needed. The reason for why the rest of them were there was to give her a much needed break. For two weeks Lyanna had watched her fall apart before their eyes, they had to help her in every way they could. And it was comforting to be around family, none of them wanted to be alone in it.

As if Lyanna’s thoughts had summoned her she heard the stairs creak as someone was coming downstairs. Maybe it was much to demand, but she hoped that maybe Catelyn had slept a little better when she did not have to worry about taking care of the kids.

Her hopes were crushed as a ghost of a woman came into the kitchen. Her face was red and puffy and there were dark circles under her eyes, clearly she had slept nothing at all. How had she become so thin in only a few weeks? She was a shell of herself, a ghost. A ghost wrapped in what had to be Ned’s robe since it was much too large for her.

The way Brandon went quiet as she came into the room didn’t escape Lyanna. Nor did the way Catelyn’s face hardened as her eyes fell on him pass unnoticed. From behind the curtains of matted red hair Catelyn looked at Brandon and hated.

“Good morning, Mom” Bran said.

“Good morning” Catelyn responded, somewhat absentmindedly.

It was in every sense an awful morning.

“Sandwich or yogurt?” Lyanna asked, hoping maybe Catelyn would eat if someone else prepared it for her. “Or something else?”

“I want you out of my house.”

Her voice was still thick with tears despite that there was no trace of sadness in her expression. At first Lyanna didn’t understand, but then she again saw how Catelyn looked at Brandon.

Immediately all conversation around the table died down and everyone looked at Catelyn and Brandon. Even Sansa took off her headphones.

“What?” Brandon said.

As if everyone around the table hadn’t heard what she said.

“Take your things and leave” Catelyn said, that time sharper. “Now.”

There was a nervousness in how Brandon looked back at her, his smile was not at all confident.

“Why do you–“ he began.

“Now” Catelyn repeated.

Brandon looked at first Lyanna and then Benjen as if they would help him. But Lyanna was too struck by confusion to say a word and her younger brother seemed to be in a similar state of mind. What had Brandon done to upset her so?

The silence was deafening as Brandon pushed his chair up and walked past his sister-in-law out of the kitchen. She had crossed her arms around herself and looked straight ahead as he passed her.

“Why can’t he stay?” Rickon asked, breaking the silence.

Clearly all of the kids were unnerved by their mother’s sudden demand. Or perhaps it was that it was the first time they saw her as she was then. She was hiding nothing, she was grieving. And as she sat next to her little son and took his hand she was clearly struggling to hold back tears.

“I think it’s better if Uncle Brandon leaves for a while” she said.

“Why?” Rickon kept pushing.

“You don’t have to worry about that” Benjen quickly said, coming to Catelyn’s rescue. “Eat your breakfast.”

He managed to smile, Lyanna forced herself to do so, as well. But a million questions were spinning in her head, she had to ask. And she couldn’t ask Catelyn, so that only left Brandon. What had happened, why was she angry?

“I’ll make you the world’s best breakfast in a bit, I just have to use the bathroom first” she said.

Catelyn didn’t believe in that lie one bit, it was obvious, but she silently let Lyanna go.

Quickly Lyanna followed Brandon to the guest room that was his and found that he had followed Catelyn’s orders and was packing what little he had brought with him.

“What did you do to her?” Lyanna asked, closing the door behind her.

Brandon had his back to her but she heard his sigh.

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Then why is she mad?”

“I don’t know” he shrugged. “Grief, probably.”

She had known him her whole life, she knew something was wrong. He wasn’t telling her the truth, he knew exactly what he had done. Otherwise he wouldn’t have simply accepted it. He would have argued with Catelyn, he would have stayed with them.

“Both of us are aware of that you’re lying right now.”

Brandon stopped for a moment, stopped pushing his stuff into the bag on the bed.

“Maybe it’s between her and me” he said.

“You have upset her to the point of her kicking you out.”

She couldn’t let that go, she had to know because she had to know if she could fix it. Ned would have been so pained if he saw them, he would have hated that. They had to stay together even when they were angry and grieving.

“You’ll just be angry, even angrier than her” he said, throwing his arms out to the sides. “I made a mistake, I hate it.”

He turned to look at her. He wasn’t annoyed that she kept asking, he was ashamed. That made her almost afraid.

“What have you done?”

“I heard she was crying when I walked past her room so I went inside to see if I could do something for her and we talked for so long and then we hugged and– we messed up so bad.”

By the end of the sentence he was hiding his face in his hands.

Lyanna stared at him for a moment before realising what it was he was telling her.

“You fucking slept with her?” she spat out. “Why would you do that? Why the fuck would you do that? How could you?”

She was grieving. They were all grieving. The only reason Lyanna had dragged herself out of bed that morning was the kids. The only reason she wasn’t on her couch at home staring at the wall and wanting nothing but to see her brother again was the kids. The only reason she wasn’t considering leaving the country was the kids. And Brandon went and and slept with their brother’s widow.

“I don’t know, Lya! It seemed reasonable then and there, the comfort was nice.”

“She didn’t want that!”

Brandon seemed horrified at that.

“I didn’t do anything against her will!”

“No, but she’s mourning Ned. You were merely a replacement of him and you know that. The last thing she needs right now is the guilt of having slept with her dead husband’s brother and pretending it was him.”

“You say that as if I’m not mourning him, as well. Every night I go to sleep and wish it had been me instead. Every day I wake up and know that he is dead, that I will never see my little brother again.”

Against her will tears were rising in her eyes and she tried to blink them away before she responded, but it was pointless.

“I miss him, Brandon” she said, her voice quivering. “He has been with me my whole life and knowing I will never see him again makes me want to die alongside him. I want to cry and scream and break things and curse every god there is for taking him. But she’s the mother of his children, his wife.”

“Why would that make it harder for her?”

“Their life was built on it being the two of them and now she’s alone.”

How could he not understand that? How could he not see?

She couldn’t stand to look at him any longer, had to turn on the spot and leave the room. She left the door open behind her, he could close it himself.

How was she to live knowing they had done that? How was she to pretend they hadn’t defiled Ned’s memory. In his home, in his bedroom, in his bed. Was he not worth more than that?

Catelyn was still in the kitchen when Lyanna returned, although alone. The children and Benjen had left and Lyanna was glad for it.

“You defiled his memory” she said, pulling out the chair opposite of Catelyn and sitting down.

“I know” Catelyn replied blankly.

“He loved you and that’s how you repay him.”

“I love him.”

Still in that monotone voice.

“What you did disgusts me.”

“Not more than it disgusts me.”

[the-oc-lass]

Nimona OC - Charlotte Swiftheart/Corova

Hello from my house! I'm spending the weekend at home but still wanted to post about my dearest girl (I'm having a fun time, yes indeed).

It's also because I won't be able to watch Nimona again this weekend for the first time in 3-4 weeks, so I'm the slightest bit bitter.

TW: Mention of (assumed) su*cide and of assault

First, Previous, Next

The Happy Months (and the end of Knight Charlotte):

After Charlotte reveals that she's Ambrosius's sister to Ambrosius himself and Ballister, they have a few good months with each other before everything goes right to shit

During this period, the trio sneaks down to the lower/poorer part of the city under the guise of something for Ballister. In reality, Ambrosius wants to meet Charlotte's mom (Ballister already has a handful of times). They get caught up in a rain storm and have to stay the night

Ambrosius finds Charlotte and Minara's (that's her mother's name, in case you've forgotten) home very cozy and homey despite it not being the nicest place (or very nice at all, for that matter). Charlotte goes off to shower at one point, and Ambrosius and Ballister are left with her mom. She quickly catches on to the fact that they know, and she sighs a bit. "She told you?" she asks. Ambrosius tries to play dumb, but it all eventually comes out because, as Minara says, "Lying isn't your strongest skill, Ambrosius". She just shakes her head at first, but she isn't really upset. She warns Ambrosius that this could put his family in a very poor light if it gets out, and he assures her that it won't, that neither they nor Charlotte has told anyone else (not even her girlfriend).

Eventually, the trio falls asleep in a bit of a pile on the very small sofa. It's very cute. Minara takes a picture, and I'd draw it if I had the skills

Upon arriving back to the Institute, the Director masks her frustration with a veil of concern, stating that "something awful could've happened to you!"

Goldenheart and Wiseheart (Charlotte Swiftheart x Alieza Wiseman) go on some double dates disguised as hangouts during this time. Rumors go around, the main one being that Alieza and Ambrosius are a thing and Charlotte and Ballister are a thing (no one suspects anything homo lol), but they don't let it bother them

Someone finds out about Charlotte's heritage as a "half blood," but don't release who she's related to (they're hoping to use it as blackmail material). This information is leaked to the public, and suddenly, people are turning on Charlotte left and right. Classmates that used to be friendly to her suddenly begin taunting her, whispering behind her back, and some (such as Todd) even begin to pick fights and hit her

Ambrosius finds her on the platform over the Glorodom one day, sitting quietly and trying not to cry. He cautiously sits next to her and asks if she wants to talk about it. Her hands ball into fists, and she rants about how upset, angry, and sad she is (purposefully leaving out the physical aspects of whats been happening to her). He asks what she needs, and she kind of trembles as she fights back tears. "To punch something," she says, before quietly adding, "or a hug." Ambrosius pulls her into a hug and says that they'll figure it out

Charlotte goes to the Director for help, tells her about what the other cadets have been doing to her. The Director is the opposite of helpful. "I'm sorry, Charlotte, but my hands are tied. The people have turned on you. Punishing the cadets tormenting you will only cause further public outrage...I can only imagine what would happen to Ambrosius if it got out that its his family you're related to," she says. Charlotte pales, blood running cold. She's absolutely shaken that the Director knows, and as apathetic eyes land on her, she realizes that she's being threatened. "It will all go away if you go home, Charlotte. The Goldenloin name and legacy will be safe, and so will Ambrosius. That's what you want, isn't it?" Charlotte swallows, looking down with tears stinging her eyes. "Yes, Director." Slowly, the Director continues. "You know, I've already heard whispers that people think it's Ambrosius you're related to. With how close you've been over the past six years, you can't really blame them." A beat. "You have until the end of the week to decide what to do. After that, I'm afraid the rumors will have to be addressed, and whatever happens next will be thanks to you."

After struggling with the decision, Charlotte ultimately decides that she has to protect Ambrosius. She agrees to leave the Institute. She has to sign some papers to officially mark it as her decision (rather than being expelled/kicked out of the Institute). Once the papers are signed, the Director files them away. Just as Charlotte is leaving to go pack her things, the Director calmly remarks, "Oh, and Charlotte. My condolences." Charlotte freezes, looking back at her. "I'm sorry?" She's met with an apathetic face that tells her "I heard about your mother."

The story that Charlotte hears is that her mother couldn't take the backlash of it being revealed that she'd not only given birth to a bastard child, but also one of a noble person. It's said that she hung herself. In reality, no one is entirely sure if that's what happened. Charlotte was told there was a note, but she was never allowed to look at it. It is extremely likely that the Director actually had Minara killed

Charlotte breaks things off with Aleiza before leaving, and she has a very rough goodbye with Ambrosius and Ballister. She tells them about her mother, and they promise to do what they can to be there for her. This promise doesn't last long (more on that in my next post)

Lovely tagged people:

@ammonitetheseaserpent @perfectkittystranger @derellenbogen

[endogenicredstar]

Pondering Things 4: Everything is Changing

Hello, everyone! I hope you all have had a lovely day so far and, if you are just now going to bed, I hope you have a lovely night!

Everything changes. It's part of the ebb and flow of life. Buildings fall, people come and go, and beliefs shift. And the only thing that remains consistent is the pain that change can bring. And nothing makes that more apparent than when a long time neighbor decides to move away. For the past several months, and elderly couple that lives next door has been trying to sell their house. They were planning to stay there for the remainder of their twilight years, but, due to unforeseen medical circumstances, they have to leave. I personally never knew them, but it still hurts nonetheless. Especially considering the issues that they're dealing with. My heart goes out to them.

Anyway, they've been trying to sell their house for the past several months, and have had no luck thus far. However, just today, a young couple bought the house. My mom says that they've pulled up the sign out in the yard. So, I imagine the new couple will be moving in soon. Perhaps I should go and greet them on the day they move in. Or, maybe I should watch from afar, as I'm content to do. I'll decide that when the day comes.

As for myself, I'm sitting out here, in the late afternoon sun, bracing against the cold breeze. Even though I detest the cold, I've come out here to make sure I write something for you all. And that's exactly what I'm doing right now. I'm staring down the driveway, watching the house across the street. Wondering what it would be like to live elsewhere. I've lived in this cul-de-sac all my life, and honestly, all that leaves is a bitter taste in my mouth. I'm not the type of person that enjoys suburban noise. Nor am I the type to enjoy loud, screaming toddlers. And unfortunately, this place has both of those. Sometimes, I wish I could just leave my way down the driveway and make my way down i-95 and stake a claim somewhere else. Alas, due to physical disability, I can't. I have no choice but to live here with my parents until they pass away.

Still, I try to make the best of my less than stellar situation. I have to love this neighborhood, despite it's flaws because I'll be stuck here for the rest of my days.

Everything changes around me, and I feel as though I've stayed the same. I'm a stone in the ever flowing river of time. Immovable, but slowly eroding away. I either have to move, or remain still. The sad thing is, I don't know which one I should do. Should I move, and risk causing trouble for my family, or do I stay put, and stagnate? There are other places I want to see, and people I would love to meet, but in wanting that I feel that I'm burdensome to my family. Am I selfish for wanting to leave this place?

Ah, I think I've gone all long enough. I hope that, in some way this brought you some semblance of joy, or perhaps some food for thought. I'll try to write again soon! Thank you all so very much for reading!