#oof I’m making myself sad

[netherzon]

I want to write a soulmate au sometime. It’s one of my favorite tropes, personally, and I don’t remember there being that many of them for America/Germany

[ghost-bxrd]

Thinking of Bruce and what he must have felt pulling up to the warehouse, seeing only a burning ruin—

And still digging through the rubble like a madman despite knowing all he’d find would most likely be a body…

I wonder if he hoped, for a moment, he’d find nothing. Because like this—- Robin couldn’t really be dead, right?

And then the relief/devastation when he did find him…

[ew-selfish-art]

Dpxdc AU: Danny can’t fix Jason’s whole…deal… and doesn’t want to answer any questions on ectoplasm but he can get Jason to the best therapist he knows! Jason mistakes Danny constantly pushing Jazz his way as an awkward little brother move to set them up romantically- which uh, isn't necessarily a bad thing? Jazz has her own vested interests.

… heads up that this got long...

Jason ran his hands through this hair, relieving them from their previous position of cradling his face in embarrassment. Why was he sitting in a nice cafe with Danny’s redhead sister and a five dollar chai latte? For all the awkward live wire feelings he had, at least she was calm and composed. How many times had this happened already?

“So… the green stuff again?” Jazz asks, taking a sip from her own stupidly expensive drink and giving him eyebrows that beg for his explanation.

“Yeah. I was trying to get your brother to explain stuff without all the science mumbo jumbo. I just, I guess that means he defers to you.” Jason sighed, and tried to not think about how pretty her eyes were as she observed him.

“Not likely. But is the search for your answers helping you cope from day to day or making you climb an impossible mountain?” Jazz asks and it makes Jason fluster.

“It’s a moving goal post, sure, but I need answers if I’m going to fix my-“

“I think it might help you to realize that people don’t need to be fixed, they just need to grow.” Jazz interrupts.

They finish their drinks in a comfortable nonchalance, the rest of their conversation doesn’t go anywhere beyond their mutual hobbies and he’s grateful for that.

Jason's been doing a lot of introspection since this all started.

——

The first time it happened was months ago.

He confronts Danny after a mission, just wanting a simple answer on whether or not Danny thought the Lazarus pit contained ectoplasm? Could ectoplasm be separated from blood? Danny looked a little uncomfortable.

“Look dude, I know you want to know more but like, having this info isn’t going to help you. You need to talk it out.” Danny sounds sad and his eyes are filed with something adjacent to pity. It riles up the pit inside him.

“Oof. See that whole reaction thing. That’s not ectoplasmic, that’s something different. C’mon follow me.” Phantom cringes as he talks to him, and then floats across the rooftops, going slow enough that Jason can keep up on his grapple.

The arrive at a modest apartment building, not too far from his territory but clearly outside of it. Danny opens a window and slides in ahead of Jason, and all of a sudden he’s seated at a kitchen table with hot chocolate and teal blue eyes peering into his soul.

“Danny, some warning next time you’re bringing a crime boss to my apartment.” Jazz sighs and its not said with any malice or sarcasm. Danny gives her a grin and a peace sign before disappearing.

“So you want to talk about it?” Jazz turns back to him and asks.

“About?” Jason’s deep voice is going through the modulator and it sounds more sinister than it should.

“Death. Dying. The afterlife. Those are the normal things Danny brings people to me for.” She blinks.

“There’s a misunderstanding, I don’t need to talk, I need answers on Ectoplasm.” He grits out.

"Hm. Well that's not my field of study, but I can tell you that however your feeling is probably a valid response towards the trauma you've faced in life. Do you think showing yourself some kindness might lessen your desire to know the knitty gritty details?"

Jason scoffs.

"Oh. You're serious. No. I don't think being kind to myself is a valid approach to dealing with an infection that's cost me a lot of family relationships." Jason rolls his eyes. The woman looks contemplative for a moment and Jason can tell that while the dim kitchen lights are doing her no favors, she's incredibly beautiful. He pockets that information and refuses to think about it.

"So...Lets take this a different direction. Do you think successful people know what they're doing or do you think successful people need help to get where they want to go?"

"Most people are dumb and trying to get by." Jason grits out.

"So, accept that you're dumb. And then get by." Jazz replies, and then sighs and leaves the room.

Jason however, is now pissed off. Who the heck was she to say that to him?

____

The next time he finds himself across the table from Jazz, he's been on a wild goose chase with Danny and lands himself in a fancy restaurant. Why the hell was she here?

"Uh, it's called self care." Jazz replies, because apparently Jason asked that out loud. But he's not going to let this lead get away from him.

He takes off his helmet, years of muscle memory make him check that his Domino mask was in place, and sits down across from her. She raises a brow and then sighs.

"You think Danny might give me answers if I hold you hostage over, what is that, some kind of gnocchi dish?"

"Mm. Probably not." Jazz says, taking a bite and pulling out her phone.

"You're just going to ignore me then?" Jason finds himself a bit flabbergasted, he was a fucking crime lord, not someone to be ignored! Like he's just- just some bad blind date!

"Uh huh. You don't want to work on your issues and it's not my job to lead a stubborn horse to water."

"The expression is that you can lead a horse to water but you can't-"

"Can't what? Or are you still going to tell me it's not a huge waste of my time to tell you that you need to accept and forgive yourself to be able to move on. Find peace. Rest." Jazz is taking bites between her last few words but her glare remains unshakeable.

Jason is about to get up and leave when a terrified waiter comes over: "A dish, as compliments from the chef. Your guest's meal as well." He's shaking as he speaks and it makes Jason feel bad.

"Thanks." He grits out.

"...Is that the lasagna?" Jazz is looking at his food curiously, and Jason pushes it forward to indicate that she can take a bite. Probably not the safest thing for a civilian to do considering people regularly try to poison Jason but, meh. He's kind of pissed off at her still.

"It's pretty good. I was debating between that and the gnocchi- Okay let's think about this differently. You want to know about the green stuff, Danny is never going to tell a mortal about it and you keep denying yourself basic self-respect. What does your support system look like?"

"You're really pushing my buttons lady-" Jason can feel the green, but after a breath and seeing her unimpressed gaze "-I have a few friends who know what my deal is, I have an older brother who claims to forgive me, and a merry band of goons that I call my henchmen."

"Henchpeople?" Jazz asks.

"I mean, sure. That's more accurate."

"What do you do for fun?" She asks.

"I take down crime syndicates-" she levels him with another glare, he wonders why its so effective on him "-I read."

"Yeah? What genres?"

"Classics." He can admit only that much.

"Nerd. Are you going to eat any of that? You really shouldn't let food waste like that when it's not even fighting back."

"I don't know why I'm even bothering to talk to you right now." Jason spoke plainly.

"I dunno either but it's easier to tolerate you without the stupid helmet speaker. Anyway, If you like to read, hopefully that means you like to see new scenarios, new plots, stuff like that. You ever think to put yourself in side-character mode and contemplate what your whole deal is bringing to the table?"

"...How so?"

"Like, if you don't think it's worth it to treat yourself well, how do the main characters feel? Or, you know, if you were a child reading your story, what would you shout at them to move forward differently?"

"... I've decided that I only read poetry." Jason grumbles, trying to deflect with humor the fact that he does have some thoughts about what she's saying. She actually laughs at his joke though- he hadn't anticipated that.

"Uh, what is the Dr. Suess line? Stop telling outlandish tales, stop turning minnows into whales? something like that."

"Dr. Suess? Really?" Jason laughs.

"Sorry Mr. Classics, I spent most of my childhood raising my brother, forgive me for not knowing any fancy poetry." She huffs but he can tell she's laughing with him still.

They get off the topic of his mental health crisis and it turns out the Lasagna isn't half bad.

----

Jason keeps chasing Danny. Danny keeps leading him to Jazz. It goes for a few rounds before the ghost kid makes a joke about Jason liking her better anyway. Jason asks what the hell Phantom means by that, but Danny just laughs and says that Jason should just ask for her number.

...This does not sit right in his gut all of a sudden. Does he think that, that Jason is only pursuing this knowledge to keep talking to Jazz?? Does Danny want him to pursue Jazz? Does HE want to pursue Jazz???

----

He spots the Replacement in the Cave's lab before he heads upstairs to grab a cookie and leave as a civilian. The reason he even looked that way being that Tim is holding glowing green vials.

"Is that-"

"Yeah. They're literally the same except for the magic mumbo jumbo that Ra's has mixed in with the pit. Leave me alone now."

"So there is a way to heal it or, or extract it or-" Jason can feel his heart racing, but his constantly-exhausted sibling is looking at him like he's grown a second head.

"Dude. You're not gunna be able to flush it out with like, a juice cleanse. You're probably better off trying to find a magic user to deal with the curses and a therapist to do the rest." Tim looks like he's trying to be patient despite being deeply, deeply vexxed.

"Therapist- why in the hell would I-"

"I mean hasn't that been Danny's entire solution for you? He's only had one strategy the whole time he's lived in Gotham." Jason rolls his eyes.

"His solution is setting me up on dates with his sister not-"

"Dates!?! His sister is THE break out psychologist, she's done more for Arkham in the last year than decades of political reform! You've been goin on- wheez- oh my god I have to call Danny-" Tim is cackling, the lazarus water all but abandoned.

"Don't you fucking dare!"

After a (from both brothers) number of punches, a few headlocks and a large portion of threats, Jason agrees that Tim can tell his boyfriend but no one else.

Kon can keep a secret right? That's why he's the favorite?

----

"So... You and Jazz huh?" Danny looks amused as he floats by- Kon could not be trusted. The entire Justice league knows. Jason might have to die again. Apparently he said as much.

"Oh buddy, it's okay! You don't have to die again! I'm sure that if she likes you, she likes you just as you are, weird little zombie boy." Danny teases, turning intangible as Jason swings a punch at him.

"What do you mean if she likes me?" Jason asks, swinging with his grapple, trying to keep up with Danny.

"You think I read her diary or something? Weirdo. You need to talk to her about it tho, it's funny and all but I'm sure she's not a fan of the JL hot goss."

"I didn't start any of this-"

"My guy. Chill. I know, but uh, I did definitely tell her about it so... Oh look! We made it all the way to her apartment! BYE!"

Jazz is standing in the window and she looks like an absolute vision. Her glare makes him want to shit his pants however, and he knows that it's going to take all of his brain cells making contact to survive this encounter.

He sits on the fire escape when he realizes that she's not moving from her spot in the window, blocking his way. Ouch.

"So let me get this straight, you thought this whole time-"

"I thought Danny was being annoying and trying to set us up! I didn't know you were a shrink!" He tries to defend himself.

"...Why should I date an idiot?" the like yourself goes unsaid but he can hear it. Jason is scrambling.

"...I can make even better lasagna than that fancy restaurant you like." is what he lands on. Jazz bursts out a laugh.

"I was just fucking with you, but honestly what a great response." She's wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

"Just fucking with me?" He grins a bit, unable to stop himself from getting excited.

"Yeah, I've been telling everyone at work that I'm dating the Red Hood for like, months now. It's been stellar for my hostage record, I haven't had an issue since I started the rumor!"

"We're dating?" Jason asks, a bit bewildered but charmed.

"I wouldn't give free therapy to just anyone! Now about that Lasagna-"

Something, something, something- they seal the deal with a kiss.

[canisalbus]

Now all these asks have me INVESTED okay?? Can you imagine??

2010s Dogblr. Some sad scrungly teenage repressed gay dog, brought up catholic, trying so hard to pray it all away. Then they just see some post with transcribed letters from these tragic historical figures who lived and then died with their love unknown to the world. And this poor kid feeling so seen and oof ouch I’m making myself real sad over this, I’ll show myself out-

Oof

ouch

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Chapter Nine

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 8k

Warnings: 18+ Blog; Fluff, a kiss of angst, talk of past relationship and break up, pregnancy scare, mopey Poppy, nervousness and anxiety, brief mentions of sobriety, smut, self doubt, public speaking, reader has the nickname Poppy- zero physical description, to dumb dumbs in love

A/N: This is a doozy of a chapter, there was so much to pack in for these two. I can’t believe we’re nearing the end, I had definite moments of sadness as I was wrapping up this chapter but also found so inspiration to help tie up the story for these two! You can listen to Dieter & Poppy’s Playlist Here. Also a big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for constantly listening and helping me through this one, I definitely needed it on this chapter.

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous/ Epilogue

It had taken a few months for Dieter to tangle himself into your life. 

Inching his way into your mind, settling deep within your bones and eventually finding shelter in the most sacred of places— your heart. 

It took only a matter of a few short days for him to imprint himself into your home, pieces of him lingering in your space, even long after he had left. 

But you can’t seem to pull yourself from the confines of your bed, each morning since his departure, you study the hollowed out spot where his worn body claimed as his, still having yet to find the energy to make it or wash the sheets clean of the hours of intensity and conversations ingrained into the plush pillow-top. 

Your fingers run over the creases of the pillow, remembering how you would trace the same lines etched across his face in the early mornings, the usual scrunch between his brows smooth and relaxed, the faintest of snores escaping his parted lips— memorizing his angelic dreamy state. 

A soft thread catches the path your finger continues to take. A silky strand of hair, no longer a part of him, now woven in through the fibers of your cotton pillowcase— proof he was here and existed in this space with you, with those unruly thick curls tousled with ardency, sweat and sleep— your fingers still managing to work through the wildness. 

*

-Saturday Morning-

“What was your last serious relationship like?” Dieter asks, laying on his side with an arm bent, head propped on his hand, your bed sheet draped over his naked lower half. 

His free hand mapping out the plains of your exposed skin, the morning sun filters through your bedroom window, providing a soft muted light as his fingers continue to unearth new details of your body he has yet to see in daylight. 

“Oof! Hitting me with the serious stuff first thing in the morning.” The rasp of sleep still coating your throat, your body turned in close towards him with one arm tucked between your pillow and resting head, your free hand mesmerized by the texture of his skin— connecting invisible lines between each freckle painted across his neck and chest. 

“Question for a question then. But you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.” 

“No, it’s fine. It’s— just a lot for some people to hear. Kind of just keep it to myself, less questions and ‘how come’ once they find out.” 

“Hey, I won’t judge you, for anything you tell me— ever.”

Dieter watches the way your eyes flit about for a few seconds, his hand stopping to rest on your naked hip with a gentle squeeze, a reassuring gesture of sincerity in his words. 

“Frankie was my high school sweetheart, we started dating our senior year. We were together— gosh…. 5, almost 6 years.” You let out a sigh, all the memories of your previous relationship flooding back to you, having been locked away for so long. 

“After high school, when we realized things were getting serious, we decided to figure out what we wanted moving forward. We were on the same page with everything for the most part, no real deal breakers. We would get married after college, buy a house— a seemingly cookie cutter life together.”

“I’m not following— sounds like the perfect life to me.” Confusion settles across his forehead, brows drawn together as he studies your face. 

“Except, I couldn’t give him the one thing he wanted— kids.” You notice the way his face drops when you say it, knowing his first thought is exactly what everyone else usually assumes when you tell them.

“I guess I should rephrase that— I didn’t want, don’t want kids. It was something we established too, both on board with living a childless life. We agreed we would be the best Aunt and Uncle for our friend’s kids.”

Dieter nods at your admission, the hand on your hip starting to leave feather-like strokes the length of your side, goosebumps scattering across your warm skin. 

“It wasn’t until we were well into our relationship that things changed. We had a bit of a pregnancy scare, we were both very careful too, so it was a bit of a shock when it happened. I was angry with myself— how could I let it happen? What did I do wrong? All the things running through my head the minute I saw those pink lines, wondering how we were going to afford a baby on our combined income, all while trying to get through finishing college— I spiraled pretty hard for a good week. But, through some routine testing, we discovered it was a false-positive— I was so fucking relieved!” 

Your fingers still over the hollow of his neck, taking a deep breath, not really sure how Dieter is taking everything you’re saying. 

“In the midst of my inner turmoil over the thought of being pregnant, I hadn’t really checked in with Frankie to see where his head was at, I had just assumed he was riding the same boat as me.”

“He changed his mind?” He asks. 

“Yeah— or it was what he had always wanted, he just didn’t realize it until that week, when it was almost a possibility.”

“So you broke up?”

“We stayed together for another year afterwards, thinking we could work through it. But I couldn’t keep that from him, it would have eaten me alive being the reason he wasn’t 100% happy. We decided it was best if we split.” You can’t help the smile that starts to develop, Dieter’s receptive demeanor made this whole moment feel a little less heavier than you thought it would be. 

“I ended up running into Frankie a few years ago. We caught up and I learned he ended up joining the army, Special Forces I think, met his wife while saving her from some bar creep, always the chivalrous one—  and they have two little girls. I like to think we both ended up where we were supposed to be.”

There’s a prick of something that ricochets across his chest— the pairing of unaltered reverence and adoration. You just want the best for others, and it shows even in how not that long ago how you went to battle for Diem out of pure love, wanting the best for her and Wren— he respects you so much now looking back on it. 

Dieter leans over and places a few soft kisses to your lips, the last one lingering a little longer before pulling away to rest his forehead on yours. 

“Thank you, for sharing that with me.” He murmurs against your lips. 

“Of course. My question now— What about you? Do you want kids?” You ask. 

Dieter gently pushes you to your back, settling himself between your legs, peering down at you with a soft smile.

“I’ll only ever be Uncle Dude— never had the desire to be a dad.” 

His head dips down to your still bare chest, the few kitten-like licks before he takes your nipple into his mouth, scorching and persistent, causing your back to arch up into him, eyes fluttering closed and mouth wide as you emit a breathless whine. 

A few intense sucking motions before he gives your breast an experimental bite, his eyes observing the way your body writhes at the juxtaposition of sensations before releasing it with a pop, blowing a stream of cold air across your wet skin and watching the way your nipple instantly tightens. 

He crawls up your body, one arm resting next to your head as the other snakes down between your bodies taking hold of his now hardened cock, a few quick strokes before he’s notching the head at your now dripping entrance. 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like partaking in the act.” His words punctuated by him fully sheathing himself into your cunt.

“Oh fuck! Dieter—“ Your laugh quickly exchanged for a heady moan. 

Your bodies meld together in a heated indulgence. The slippery grip of dewy skin as your bodies work in a synergistic fashion, calculated snapping of hips take you both to a climactic level of bliss. 

*

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

The vibration of your phone against your nightstand draws you back from the reliving of your weekend with Dieter, interrupting the playlist streaming through the phone speaker. 

You grab your phone to check who the message is from…

Mom ❤️: Hey Sweetheart! Let me know when you’re heading over. Going to sit by the pool for a bit until then. This place is beautiful, I might not ever leave! Talk to you soon!

The music promptly picks back up again with its uptempo beat, you connect your phone to your speakers in the living room, the words floating brightly in the background as you will yourself out of bed. 

In route to a much needed cup of coffee, you pull on the fuzzy warm jacket that seems to have established itself as an essential element in your daily life, dropping your phone in its cavernous pocket before bringing the fleecy fabric to your face for a brief moment. It’s a cognitive experience, the inhalation of the still drenched in his signature Dieter-musk, making your insides gooey and flustered. 

‘Ooh, I lose control, can't seem to get enough, uh-huh

When I wake from dreaming, tell me is it really love?’

You chuckle into your cup as you take that first sip, the words a flawless depiction, and complete coincidence of every morning this week. 

A quick text back to your mom to fill her in on the day’s plans. 

Poppy: Hi Mom! Had a bit of a slow morning, but I’m up and moving now! Going to shower and get ready. I thought we could go to this new sandwich shop that just opened. I've been wanting to try it. I’ll text you when I’m on my way to the hotel. Love you

Your mom had gotten in late last night, still having not seen her yet. Diem was so kind to put her up in the Capri for the weekend, your mom insisting she didn’t want to intrude and give you space. 

It was her first time visiting since you had moved, but not her first time to Ojai. She had visited on numerous occasions in her travels before having you, it was usually a brief stop for a few hours to grab a quick bite and then off to her next stop. 

As a child, you would spend hours browsing through her endless collection of photo albums, dreaming up your own stories about visiting her favorite places— grainy Kodak Portra 160 was her film of choice, the color grading and light leaks adding to the cinematized scenes. There was something alluring about Ojai, always spending a little extra time with those images, it had become your ‘one day I am going to move there’ place. So, when you had started actually considering moving, your mind instantly went to Ojai— it was a no-brainer this was the place you were meant to set your roots in. 

A slow sip of the ambered liquid trickles down your throat, its atomic structure hitting every nerve as it slowly expands in your veins, giving you the ample amount of energy to keep you from crawling right back in bed. 

A thrumming piano tune dances across the room, instantaneously reliving the moment you coerced Dieter to add it to your growing playlist, selfishly you hope the familiar high falsetto voice evokes the same memory for Dieter as it does for you when he shuffles through the songs. 

Just a small town girl

Livin' in a lonely world

She took the midnight train going anywhere

Just a city boy

Born and raised in South Detroit

He took the midnight train going anywhere

*

-Sunday Afternoon-

“Add. The. Song. Dieter!” A purely joking dramatic version of yourself pleads with him, you sense the song isn’t a front-runner for Dieter, but you’re enjoying the banter it’s causing. 

The popular chorus continues roaring through the living room where you’ve both been camped out for the last hour, switching off listening to music on bith your record player and Dieter’s Spotify account.

It felt silly when you suggested you both should create a compilation of songs that you could listen to and think of the other person— complete cheeseball move. It was reminiscent of junior high when you would download songs off shady sites and then burn the perfect cd mix for your crush, labeling it— I really like you but I’m not good with words, so here’s some songs instead— the cover art hand drawn sharpie doodles and emo quotes that could bring a 15 year old girl in love to tears. Being it was modern times, Dieter opted for a playlist of top favorite songs between the two of you, dubbing it ‘Dieter’s & Poppy’s Mix Tape.’

He wants to engrain this scene in his mind forever, your naked form cloaked in his beloved brown jacket, dancing around your living room, belting the lyrics in the most out of tune way. 

“Streetlights, people!— Dieter, please! You said our favorite songs— this would be a favorite of mine! Add the damn song!!” 

“This— This is your favorite song? It’s like the most overplayed karaoke song in the history of music” His cocked eyebrow as he holds his phone with the Spotify app open in his lap, finding it hard to hold off his growing smirk and not surprised in the least that it’s a top pick for you. 

“I’ll have you know, I am the reigning Karaoke Queen, west of the Mississippi River— you're in the presence of royalty, Babe. Don't stop believin' Hold on to that feelin'!” Grabbing another slice of cold pizza from the half eaten box on the coffee table, you continue twirling about on your tippy toes, maintaining your off-key singing between bites. 

“Something tells me your full of shit. Fine— It’s added. But I’m adding ‘You Need to Calm Down’ for tax.”

“I need to do what?” Your twirling ceases, the bottom of his jacket swaying about as you watch the way he stares down at his phone, fingers pecking at the screen. 

“No— it’s a song. According to Wren, “it’s a Taylor Swift masterpiece!’” His air quotes and deadpan expression almost take you out. 

“Never would have pegged you as a Swiftie, but I love it.”

“Well, it’s all she wants to listen to on the drive to school. I can’t help it if i know every word to almost every song.”

The next song plays through, Dieter continues to watch you from his spot on the couch, loving the carefree manner in which you move, your infectious smile on display as you sing along to a song you definitely do not know a single word to, eyes closed and arms stretched out letting the chorus fully envelop your mind— this whole moment solidifying his love for you. 

He brings his phone up and snaps a few pictures, each image progressively blurrier as he tries to capture you dancing, his last attempt is more or less successful, the timing just right and the result an accurate depiction of how he wants look back on this time together— a flash of your beaming smile that causes your eyes to crinkle at the edges and your audacious desire to be completely yourself in front of him is a picture worth taking. 

“Are you taking a picture of me?” Breathless and smiling. 

“Guilty. I need something to remember this day while I’m away.”

“Okay, but take a better one then.” 

Grabbing his sunglasses off the table to situate them on your face, your bare leg crossed over and kicked out to the side in an ameture Radio City Rockette fashion, middle fingers erect while your hands cover your now exposed breasts, a one-sided nose scrunch and curled lip with some semblance of a smile, all while the remaining slice of your pizza dangles from your mouth. 

“Beautiful, just like the other ones.” His chest vibrates at the sight of you, he pats his thighs motioning for you to come over to where he’s seated. “Alright Karaoke Queen, get your sexy little Believin’ ass over here!” 

Tossing your crust back into the pizza box, you skip-hop over to him, your knees sinking into the cushions of the couch as you straddle his boxer clad lap. His hands sliding under where his Jacket is splayed open, his warm touch glides over your thighs. 

“Let me see— the others, please.” You ask timidly, not sure what ‘others’ entails, pulling his sunglasses off and tossing them to the side. 

His thumb swipes and presses across his phone screen, then hands you an open folder of images, tiny intimate squares fill the screen. You click on the most recent ones of you here in your home, laughing at how ridiculous you think you look, glancing up to see Dieter’s head tilted to the side and his gaze fixed on you. Refocusing on his phone, you start swiping, so many images of times you had spent together, except you're the main focus of each photo, very much unaware of your photo being taken. 

There was the afternoon spent baking cupcakes for no reason other than they sounded delicious. Flour covering the surface of the counter, while you and Wren laugh at something completely unrelated to the making of said cupcakes— equal amounts of flour coating both your hands and faces. 

There’s the backyard dinner Diem had invited you over for. You were seated across from where Dieter and Diem were sitting, listening intently to something she was saying. The sun warm against your back as it had started its descent, your elbow propped on the table and chin resting on your hand, your attention focused on every aspect of the conversation. 

The first evening Dieter and Wren had attended your art class together, a few of you talking about something art related and then a couple of you actually painting and drawing— your face naturally lighting up at you sharing art with others. 

Each swipe revealed another image, so many of you smiling while looking off at whatever had your attention, full body laughs shared with someone out of frame, deep in thought or absorbed into something you were reading or looking at on your phone. 

Seeing your life candidly curated in a digital collection of photos has so many emotions whirling through your mind, love being the most prominent one. 

Your breath hitches when you scroll to the last image in the folder.

You're at the front of your classroom, a stack of papers tucked against your chest as your smile beams out to your class. You note your outfit isn’t your usual uniform, you're wearing your favorite band tee, jeans and sneakers— it’s the morning you were late and Dieter stepped in to help you out, bringing a sense of ease to your disarray of a morning. 

“I think that was one of the moments I knew.” Dieter’s smoky voice cuts into the air, pointing at the image you’ve been studying a little longer than the others.

“Knew what?” Looking up from the phone to see his chestnut eyes twinkling with adoration, his hands gently rubbing against your hips. 

“Knew that I needed you in my life, however that was.” 

“There were others?”

“Your art class was another.”

There’s a beat of silence between you, the start of the next song picking up its pace. 

“Do you ever imagine what it would be like if we would have met each other sooner than we did?” Something you’ve thought about at times, wishing you had more time with him, maybe if you had met sooner. Your fingers trace along the ridge of his collarbone as you wait for his answer. 

“No— you would have definitely deserved better than who I was back then. You would have hated the thought of being in the same room as me.” 

He wouldn’t have been anything close to who he is now, grateful you were never fully subjected to the asshole he used to be. 

Your hand settles on his bare chest, right where his heart is beating fiercely.

“I deserve you now though. And I definitely want to be in every room you walk into.” 

‘Tears stream down your face

I promise you I will learn from my mistakes

Tears stream down your face, and I

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you’

Your lips meet his in an unhurried embrace, Dieter pulling your lower body closer to his, his fingers digging into the meat of your backside when your hips start to gradually begin to grind against him, his cock hardening with each brush of your wet cunt. 

His hands create their own intimate paths over your body, one traveling up the length of your spine, the other moving to the underside of your breast, cupping the supple weight of it in his palm. A swipe of his thumb over your sensitive nipple has you gasping into his mouth, the catalyst for your silent plea for more— and he hears it loud and clear. 

His hands. His mouth. His cock— all working in perfect, articulate motions. Until you’re succumbing to the culmination of purposeful exertion and precise execution. 

The last 48 hours were spent with Dieter's departure looming in the background of your minds, not allowing yourselves to stew on the impending heartache that was to come the moment you said your goodbyes. 

Between the hours of relaxed conversations and alleviating desirous needs, you both managed to get through the weekend with a strong sense of optimism about the future. A shared commitment to each other, with endless promises of check-ins whenever possible and working out a plan to see each other once Dieter had his schedule set, it was enough to keep the sadness at bay— it gave you something to look forward to. 

The afternoon slowly began to bleed into your final evening together, tangled limbs and intimate memories treated with exactness, fueling hushed whispers of ‘I love yous’ embedding themselves into every single part of your soul. 

*

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK 

You hadn’t been expecting anyone, the rapid knock on your front door was a complete surprise. 

After confirming your name with the sweet delivery lady, she hands off the beautiful dried floral arrangement, mentioning a card was tucked into the center, wishing you a great rest of your day before driving away. 

You had never seen anything like it before, an incredible assortment of dried flowers, stems and oversized leaves arranged meticulously in a ceramic vase. 

Placing the flowers on the kitchen counter, you pull the small card from it, reading the small written note:

Poppy, I’m so proud of you! You’re so talented and I can’t wait to hear how tonight goes. Love you, Dieter

You smile at his thoughtfulness, missing him so much and needing to hear his voice desperately. 

Pulling your phone from the coat pocket, you dial his number and hope there’s a chance you catch him at a good time. 

“Hello.” There’s warmth in the way his voice cracks through the phone. 

“Hi. I just got the flowers— they’re absolutely beautiful, Dieter. Thank you!” 

“I can’t take full credit. Nessa, my assistant, said you might like them, something about them lasting forever. Anyways, she set up the order while I was in a meeting.” 

“Well, I’ll have to thank her at some point then.” There’s some static carrying through the line as you continue your conversation.

“How are you feeling about today?” 

“Good. Just finally pulled myself out of bed. Going to get dressed, then have lunch with my mom before I get ready for tonight. I miss you, Dieter.” 

There’s a brief moment where it sounds like the call cuts out, looking at the screen you see it’s still counting up the call minutes, still connected. 

“I— you too. ‘Ant wait— it goes….”

“Dieter?…Hello? Babe, your phone keeps cutting out.”

*Call Dropped* 

The connection was lost, conversation cut short, staring at a now black phone screen. 

Poppy💐: Your service must be shitty or something, couldn’t hear most of what you were saying. Call me when you can. Love you 💜

You attach a photo of the flowers along with your message. Knowing if he was in a bad service area, you wouldn’t be getting an immediate response, so you take that as your cue to get yourself ready. 

Poppy: Getting dressed! Should be leaving here in 20 minutes. See you in a bit mom! 😘 

*

Your mom’s presence was exactly what you needed today. Seeing her sitting across from you now makes you feel less overwhelmed by the fact that your boyfriend isn’t here and you’re hours away from sharing this passion project of yours, something so intimate and personal, with a room full of art loving strangers.

But even in her presence, you still find your mind wandering— Dieter being the central character of your deviating thoughts— even things outside your home, the smallest of details, reminding you of him in some way. 

Bart’s across the street, a favorite spot for both of you, especially after the talk you both shared coming to an understanding and moving forward together with a new perspective on each other.

Someone walking by, where your mom and you are sitting together on the restaurant patio, was carrying a merchant bag from a store you had bought Dieter’s birthday present. There was a gold colored velvet button up shirt cover in a large geometric print that you had seen while out shopping with Diem one weekend, she had made the offhand comment that it was totally something Dieter would wear and when you had found out a few days later that Dieter’s birthday was the following weekend, you immediately went back to buy it for him. 

You had also thrown in a pair of tiny Frozen charms, Elsa for Wren and Olaf for Dieter, for the Crocs you had seen him wear around Diem’s house on movie nights, in the chance he hated the shirt you knew he was a sucker for kitschy gifts— by the way he wears the shirt regularly, it’s fair to assume he likes it. 

You even think of him in the most laughable ways too, like when a car similar to his drives by the restaurant, you of course immediately think of him— you find yourself to be a lost cause at this point. 

“I’m so sorry, Sweetheart, I’m sure Dieter would love to be here if he could. Aside from him leaving, how was the rest of the week after he left?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I asked how’s your week been? We haven’t talked much since last week.” 

“Oh my gosh, Mom! I’m so sorry— I’m literally the worst person to be around right now, I’m sure. I’ve been so in my head lately, I can’t even think straight.” You cover your face as you apologize for being lackluster company to her, realizing you’ve spent most of lunch off in La-La-Land. 

“My week was good though. With summer break starting last week, I spent most of this wrapping up last minute grading and finishing up paperwork. Monday and Tuesday I went to clean up my classroom, just mainly clearing out old projects and lesson plans from the past year. Which then left me the rest of the week to get my canvases prepared and hung up over at Reverie, where the art opening is tonight.”

“Sounds like it’s kept your mind off of Dieter not being able to be there tonight.” She gives you a sympathetic look, and it makes you feel so appreciative that she flew out to be here for you. 

“If I’m being honest, it really hasn’t. I just selfishly keep wishing he didn’t have leave so I could have more time with him. And then I hate myself for even thinking that, because I’m so happy and proud of him— he deserves this, I just miss him so much. We’ve tried to talk and FaceTime when we can, but his schedule right now has been busy, so I just sit and wait for him to call most evenings. God, I sound ridiculous!” A slight crack to your voice as you’re overcome with emotion, it’s sadness and happiness all wrapped up in a perfect little box sitting in your chest, lifting your chin up as you fight back the tears that threaten to break. 

“Oh, honey.” She passes you a few clean napkins, noticing the few tears that managed to escape. “Maybe give him a call in a bit, I’m sure hearing his voice will help you feel better.”

“Yeah, I’ll give him a call when I get home. Thanks mom. I’m so glad you’re here! Let’s talk about something else, bring the mood back up. How’s retirement going?” Changing the subject to hopefully suppress your mopey demeanor, dabbing your wet cheeks lightly. 

“Oh, it’s great! I’ve actually been thinking about doing some traveling now that I have all this time.” 

“I love that for you mom. You should go, see the world— you deserve it.” 

She shared about the places she had already started planning to visit— in and around Canada, parts of Europe, then several areas of South America. You greedily wished she didn’t want to go, feeling a steady wave of emotions rock through you at the thought of her being gone for so long. But, you know how much traveling means to her, it’s pure joy watching the way she can’t stop smiling as she shows you landmark places she’ll be visiting— a true testament to chase after the things you love. 

*

Doubt. 

Fear. 

Trepidation. 

A war of anxieties. Ruthless, belligerent intruders, battling for control and power. Your mind slowly forfeits, white flag in waiting, ready to surrender yourself to the helm of your own enemies. 

Even with the excitement surrounding tonight, you hadn’t really mastered the art of calming intrusive thoughts and apprehension once they began to build their way into your consciousness.

There’s the brief moment where you consider getting back into your car and driving home— rid yourself of the stress and anxiety that is overcoming you at the thought of being the center of attention tonight— albeit your art the main focus, but with that will come talking about yourself and it has you ready to bail. 

But, you had put so much time and effort into this collection, executing and curating an intimate journey of discovery in the form of detailed lines and brush strokes that make up a whole series of paintings you are incredibly proud of. 

Breathe. 

In. 

Out. 

Dieter comes to mind, the words he shared with you before he left: 

“You were made for this, it’s who you are and it’s what you know— don’t let you be the reason you stop chasing what you deserve. I believe in everything you do, you should too.” 

His words wash over you, each one forging a path for you to conquer your reluctance to seek out something that you have always dreamed of doing. 

You pull out your phone to shoot Dieter a quick text before heading into the gallery. 

Poppy💐: Hi! I miss you and wish you were here ❤. Hope you had a great day. I’ll have Diem take pictures to send you later. Call me when you can. Love you xo

Remembering back to when  Dieter had shared something he does when his anxiety starts to surface, deciding to take a minute to borrow his technique to help ground your thoughts. 

You see the vibrant lights from the front windows of Reverie Studio, the way the moon is peeking out from behind the building making its way through the sky, the streak of lights from headlights of passing cars, blurred bodies of people milling around the streets unbothered by you rooted in the center of the sidewalk, the time stamped over an image of you and Dieter as the lock screen on your phone. 

You feel the weight of your phone leaving your hand as you drop it in your purse, the flowy dress that you picked out with Diem a few weeks ago specifically for this evening, a folded piece of paper with notes for the small speech you were going to give, a good luck charm in the form of Dieter’s 1 year chip clutched tightly into your hand. 

You hear the muted chatter of the early birds spilling from the open door of the gallery, the mingling musical instruments in the local park showering concert goers with an original melodic song, an indistinguishable mix of hello’s and goodbye’s wrapped around gossip filled phone conversations. 

You smell the sweet-vanilla-waffle confections of the little ice cream shop that stays open late during the summer, a hint of a smokey musk dusting the air reminding you of the woody spicy that’s so distinctly Dieter. 

You taste the delicate flavors of a savory future, one that has a palatable balance of sweetness and verve— something so delectable that you don’t think you’ll be able to stop reveling in its richness. 

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

Your immediate thought is it’s Dieter, pulling out your phone to see it’s instead Diem. 

Diem: Are you going to stand out there all night?? Get your ass in here!

She’s standing in the window with Wren on her hip, both of them waving at you. 

Feeling a somewhat renewed sense of confidence, you wait for a break in the passing cars and jog across the street to join the crowd already forming inside. 

You’re completely taken aback once you’re through the front door, not by the overwhelming number of people who showed up to view your work, but by how the room is filled with a plethora of vases overflowing with poppies. 

The edges of the room, table tops, display pedestals all covered in a sea of pinks, oranges and pale yellow flowers. 

“So glad you could show up!” Diem and Wren wrap you in a joint hug, a warm greeting with a touch of her special sarcasm. 

“Where did all these flowers come from? They weren’t here yesterday when I stopped in to do some final touches.”

“A certain someone might have wanted to surprise you with something special.”

There’s an immediate pang in your chest, his thoughtfulness and his way of showing support by filling the studio space with your favorite flowers, you have to actively fight off the urge to cry tears of happiness. 

You snap a few photos, focusing on the ones that sit below where your canvases are hung on the fabricated display walls. 

You can’t contain the smile plastered across your face, seeing your work being admired by those in attendance, getting a chance to catch up with friends and fellow artists and having your mom close by listening to her talk up your talent with complete strangers— all still while wishing Dieter were here bask in the excitement with you. 

“If I could have everyone’s attention please.” The owners ask, the room’s noise quickly reduced to a curbed level. “We thank everyone for coming to show their support for this wonderful event. We’ll have her share more about it with you and then we’d like to say a few words afterwards.” 

Applause breaches the silence as you’re beckoned to the center of the room, your paper of scribbled notes in one hand and Dieter’s chip in the other, making your way to the front of the mass of people. 

You introduce yourself as you take in all the faces, some familiar and some new, Diem and your mom in a side embrace with Wren to the front of them, each person enthralled and eager to hear you share more about you and the art behind you. 

“Art has always been a part of me, in so many different ways. Growing up I would tear apart my mom’s magazines to make collages of pretty pictures, sorry mom.” Glancing down at your paper as a wave of soft laughter filters around, it elicits a surge of excitement and sureness blooms somewhere deep in your soul, deciding to for-go reading anything you had written and just share from the heart. 

“And then I got my first sketchbook, that thing never left my side. Always with me at school, trips to the grocery store and even on days when my mom worked late, I’d sit in the corner of her classroom and just draw— creating little scenes from memory. I filled the pages rather quickly too, pages were barely hanging on with the amount of wear and tear I had put it through. Before I knew it, I had amassed a collection of sketchbooks and canvases over the years. Art has always been a part of who I am and I think it always will be.”

Everyone seemed so fascinated by everything you’re sharing. Explaining the story behind your collection— starting as a literal dream and slowly becoming a now etched on canvas reality. 

Even the collaborative piece with Dieter is hung among the others, you went the extra step to add his name onto the little artist placard:

Artists: Dieter & Poppy

Title: ‘Sweet Creature’

Medium: Acrylic on Canvas

$: (Not For Sale)

“Thank you all for taking the time out of your busy schedules to be here tonight, I appreciate it so very much, I’ll be around the rest of the evening to chat more or answer any questions. And thank you to Reviere Studio, you’ve become like a second home to me. I’m so grateful that I had the opportunity to share my love for the arts with the many who attended my classes in this very space, but also to be the last art showing truly means so much to me. I will miss you all.”

Another round of applause and cheers fill the open space. You feel like it went pretty well for how nervous you were earlier in the evening, not really sure why you were doubting yourself to begin with. 

The crowd slowly starts to disperse as you start to weave to where Diem, your mom and Wren are standing, getting stopped for hugs and hellos from former class attendees, congratulatory remarks for complete strangers too— you’re even shocked when Betty and Marilyn stop to share their well wishes with you. 

“I’m so proud of you sweetheart, it’s all so amazing!” Your mom wraps you in praises and a tight hug. 

“Thank you mom, I’m so happy you could be here!”

“I’m happy to be here too!” Wren’s excitement is barely containable as she bounces off the floor. 

“I’m so happy you’re here too Wren!” You tell her as you bend down to give her a hug as well. 

Standing back to your full height, you turn to Diem and just wrap your arms around her shoulders and hold her close, she returns the same energy. 

“Thank you so much for everything, you are literally the best friend I could have ever asked for. I love you so much Diem!” 

“God dammit, Poppy! I didn’t wear any waterproof mascara because I wasn’t planning on crying tonight! I love you too!” She pulls away and starts fanning her face, drying up the tears that had started to fill her eyes. 

“Excuse me! We have a quick, exciting announcement to make before the evening continues with drinks and appetizers.” The sweet owner Susi’s voice boomed out to the guests. 

*

Dieter doesn’t like lying, not in general at least and especially not to you— open and honest is how he continues to move forward with his life. 

But this doesn’t feel like a lie, in a sense. A secret. A surprise. 

Taking this role meant sacrificing his time away and that terrified him, especially being his first project to jump back into. 

After a call with his agent on the drive back to LA Monday morning and a check in with his sponsor,  Dieter requested a meeting with the movie’s higher ups. 

That meeting didn’t happen until a few days later, but when he found out filming would be held in and around LA, Dieter learned his request for weekends to travel back to Ojai was successful. 

That gave him less than 24 hours to get flowers ordered to be delivered to the gallery, let Diem in on his plan to ensure everything was in motion, all while you had no idea what was happening. 

Dieter settles in the back of the crowd, tucked out of sight, finding it difficult to keep his eyes off you as you stand up there. 

Watching you share about your life and how art has always been a big part of it, the two of you so similar in many ways makes him feel a deeper connection to you. 

He recognizes the paper you’ve started crumpled into your hand, worn and creased from the repetitive folding and unfolding, scarred by the cross-hatching over abandoned words or shelved sentences, bullet points of importance to add substance to your speech. He likes the version you who was pacing around her living room Sunday morning, paper in one hand and pen in the other, reciting each line with a fluctuating ambivalent tone, stopping intermittently at the coffee table to rework a line or add something he had suggested. But he loves this version of you standing before him right now, no hesitation in your words, speaking with certainty and feeling— you were more than prepared. 

The way you wear your confidence stirs something inside of him— trying his best to keep a low profile, because all he wants to do is scoop you up and kiss you breathless, to tell you over and over, how perfect and amazing he thinks you are.

He notices the light catching something you’re intently smoothing your fingers over, tracing repeatedly over every word— It’s not going to be easy, but it’s going to be worth it— engraved on his 1 year chip, a habit he’s welcomed into his daily routine. You had refused to take it from him when he offered it, not wanting him to be without it longer than necessary, but he had vowed to take it back the moment you were reunited. Placing it in your palm, hinting at the streak of luck it had brought him over the past year, ensuring that it would do the same for you— but he knew you wouldn’t need any.

He wants more of this— more time with you. To feel immersed back into this normal paced life and experience the joys that you feel regularly. 

He has to shuffle himself around a bit when the crowd starts to move about, still trying to not be seen, watching you celebrate post speech with your mom, Diem and Wren— eagerly wanting to do the same. 

The gallery owner’s announcement signals the beginning of something exciting. 

He just hopes you’re as ecstatic about what’s about to be revealed as he is. 

*

Susi takes a moment for everyone to quiet down and focus their attention on her before continuing her speech. 

“Earlier this year, we had made the difficult decision to close our doors— deciding it was time to seek out a new chapter with new adventures and close this chapter on Reverie Studio.”

You’re sandwiched between Diem and your mom, hands intertwined as your head rests on Diem’s shoulder, somber as Susi’s heartfelt words about the studio’s closing. 

“But we have some exciting news to share with you all. The gallery and studio are now under new ownership and will continue to stay open. It will be under a new name, but will still retain what Reverie had previously been known for— classes, art openings, studio space. And while we’re sad to hand it over, we’re excited to see it continue to serve the community.”

The delighted commotion pours out into the streets, catching the attention of passersby’s curiosity. 

“So, we welcome you to the new home of Les Coquelicots Studio. The new owner is somewhere here in the audience too.” Heads begin to turn, seeking out where this mysterious owner is, when Susi points towards the back of the room and waves. “Ah, there he is. Please be sure to make him feel welcome and thank him before you leave. Thank you all again for coming and have a wonderful rest of the night.”

Music begins to brim over the conversations that start to pick up, guests dispersing to fill their small plates with finger foods and refilling of drinks, ambling about observing your artwork and surrounding art pieces. 

But you're too focused on the fact that you had no idea that the space wasn’t closing, as you continue turning about scanning the room for the new owner. 

Everything stills. 

No sound. 

No horde of people. 

Just him. 

Dieter Bravo. 

All Dieter-like too, leaning against the back wall, hands secure in his pockets, the slightest tick of his jaw punctuating his dimple. 

Your brain is actively working to re-hardwire your body to function properly, but you’re motionless. Speechless. 

He’s here, propelling himself forward and making his way to you, even as he stands before you, it doesn’t feel real. 

“Surprise.” His voice nearly takes you out, it hasn’t been that long since you had last spoken, but you’ve missed its gravely tone so much. 

“What are you doing here? I thought— I don’t know what I thought because I can’t think straight at the moment. How are you here?” Dizzy with total surprise and confusion. 

He leans in, laughing at your flustered smile, hands slinking their way to your face, his touch charged with fervor as his thumbs sweep over the apples of your cheeks. 

“Came to see my girl.” He smiles softly, his words a breath away from where you want him most. 

You close the distance between you, his lips fitting perfectly against yours, unbothered by the room full of people around you. You knew you would never get that same feeling or experience like with your first kiss, but this is second best and you welcome it fully. 

Before the kiss has a chance to turn into something more than what is appropriate for the setting, you pull away, resting your forehead on his, breathless and happy. 

“It’s you isn’t it— You bought this place?” The answer is clear as you look into his warm eyes. 

“I did.”

“Les Coquelicots? Monet’s painting?” 

“Poppies.” 

This is it. Your forever. With him. Always. 

“I know how much this place means to you, think of it as a thank you— for giving me a chance, for believing in me.” 

“You didn’t have to buy me an art gallery as a thank you, dinner would have been fine.” Your fingers catching the rampant tears streaming down your cheeks, emitting a breathy laugh. 

“We can go to dinner after this then.” His words mumbled in a kiss against your forehead. 

“You still didn’t answer my question— How are you here? What about your movie?” 

“When I found out we would be shooting locally in LA, I told them I had one request— that I was able to go home every weekend if I wasn’t needed on set.” 

“But your home is already there?”

“I’m selling my home in West Hollywood— my realtor is getting it ready to be listed next week, hopefully moved out by the end of the month. So I can move home.” 

It goes without saying that you know what he means, but you want to hear him say it out loud.

“Do you mean here? You’ll be moving here?” 

He nods his head in response.

“What if this place gets too boring for a big movie star like yourself?” Biting your lip with a hint of a smile. 

“Poppy— wherever I go, you bring me home.” 

The kiss is short, but full of a warmth you crave when he’s in your presence, your arms linking around his neck as he pulls flush against, white knuckle grip on your hips— the two you lost in each other as the work around you carries on. 

“Hmm— so, you’re gonna move in with Diem permanently?” 

“Nah, I’ll find some place eventually.” He winks, no real rush to move in together, but he sees it as an option at some point in the future. 

“Well, if you’re over living with your sister, I have a comfortable couch with your name all over it.” You snort at your offer. 

“Poppy, I’m not sleeping on your fucking couch.”

“Suit yourself then.” You mirror his wink before pulling him in for another string of small pecks. 

“I love you, Dieter.”

“I love you too, Poppy”

Next

[ryuichirou]

So i'm reading your yandere/hypnosis post and i get to Vil being utterly jealous enough to try on Rook; and it makes me think about his drive and the second place club lol (Leona, Jamil and Vil) like D: poor them they're always outranked by that ooonnee person! Can our boys catch a break? whether that person knows or not I always tend to feel bad--especially for Vil since i remember his inner speech in book 5 and the fact that his most trusted person ended up being such a big fan of the person who makes him feel like second best. wait i love rookvil i think i made myself sad LOL NOoo--aahh I rambled im sorry, i guess the main question i wanna ask is what do you think about those particular three always having to come second to their respective counterparts? I think your opinions and insight is so interesting that i'd like to know your thoughts on this! and you don't have to answer for all three characters if you dont wanna I was just curious on your thoughts! Anyways, have a good day and stay hydrated! it's hot this summer oof

Anon! Took some time to get back to you as well, sorry for the late reply. Summer is already over, but it’s still SO HOT…

Without diving into just how much I love the ending of book5 and the whole Rook-Vil-Neige thing (I feel like I talk about it all the time LOL)… It is interesting how these Vil, Jamil and Leona always get to be second best, isn’t it? But ironically, I don’t think I ever grouped them in my head based on this. Maybe it’s because of how different their situations are? But also now that I think about it…

Vil isn’t better than Neige, and he tries to be better by working hard.

Jamil is better than Kalim, but he can’t be better because of his status.

Leona may or may not be better than Falena in some ways, but he doesn’t even bother.

Ignoring the fact that this “better” is always subjective and in actuality things are more complex than that… and also trying not to sound like an armchair therapist that’s just telling anime boys “you should have done this you idiot”, but.

Jamil got the most development in that sense because this internal conflict is very straightforward, in fact, he was the easiest one to describe with these little sentences I just wrote. Jamil wants to stop pretending to be worse than he is, he wants to work hard and to show how great he is without being forced to get worse results than Kalim. He is only the second best because he consciously allows Kalim to be the best whenever he is given this choice. And he isn’t always given a choice: a lot of times the system decides for him, just like when Crowley chose Kalim to be the housewarden. Still, even in that situation, Jamil knows for a fact the shape, the density and the nature of this ceiling he can’t break, he’s been aware of it for his entire life. This is why it’s easy to pinpoint moments of Jamil’s growth: when he expresses how much he hates pretending to be worse than Kalim, when he says that he won’t hold back anymore, when he gets to dance and rap at VDC as a lead-vocalist and, ironically, when he gets scolded by Leona in ch6 (I have some issues with their sub-story, but still).

With Vil, the difficult part is to understand what exactly he understands as “beauty”: I mentioned it in a bunch of Vil-centric posts, but we’ve seen how in-canon he was described as too beautiful, therefore not as relatable as Neige. So this isn’t about beauty, and in a way I think this isn’t about Neige either. This is about Vil’s own feeling of self-worth and self-expression, and how people perceive him; Neige is just a very good point of reference, a good metric, especially considering that they always end up being compared to each other and that comparing numbers of followers is easy and seemingly objective (which is a cruel trap a lot of people fall for).

What I’m trying to say is that Vil isn’t fully and constantly aware of “the shape of this ceiling”, or rather why he can’t reach Neige; this is why we had that ending to his book. This isn’t solely about skill or quality, but those are the main things Vil focuses on.

And Leona… I am not sure about him, to be honest, because it boils down to one problem that I have with him: I am not sure what he wants.

It’s easy to compare him to Jamil because it seems like his issue lies in being frustrated with the system: he will never be the first because Falena is literally the first born son. But I don’t think it’s fair to compare a prince with a servant like that, because even though Leona wouldn’t be the king, he still has a lot of power and opportunities, and we’ve seen Falena valuing his strong points and expressing that he wants Leona to help him. One might even say that he invited Leona to be by his side, as a brother and an equal. But this isn’t what Leona wants in actuality, is it?

His “ceiling” seems to be obvious, but I guess his actual frustrations lie elsewhere, and those are kind of difficult to see because of how inconsistent he is. But maybe it’s just me being frustrated with his character again lol

I am replying so late because I really thought I would have some kind of conclusion about this whole thing, but it seems like I don’t lol Still, it was an interesting topic to think about.

Thank you for your ask! <3

[writingonleaves]

will you take a moment? promise me this (that you'll stand by me forever) - the blue au

universe: the blue au (clementine sandoval x hughes brothers x nico hischier)

warnings: swearing, mentions of death, more sadness than i intended originally, mentions of covid during one particular part, so so much fluff!!

title + based on: "long live" by taylor swift, "i'll always remember you" by hannah montana, "ribs" by lorde, "vienna" by billy joel, "home" by edward sharpe & the magnetic zeros and "a letter to my younger self" by ambar lucid. title from "long live"

word count: 14k

author's note: graduation / draft moments that technically take place before the first installment. though you should read the first part for context if you haven't yet! romance who? we ride and die with found family. i def made myself cry a few times writing this. happy american thanksgiving to all those who celebrate. hold your family and loved ones close. hope you all enjoy and please let me know what you think <3

2018 - dallas, texas 

i wish you love, i wish you luck

for you, the world just opens up

- “i’ll always remember you” by hannah montana

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Dallas. The time is currently 12:26 p.m. and the current temperature outside is a very toasty 91 degrees Fahrenheit.”

Clementine tunes out after that. 91 degrees? She’s gonna die when she gets out of the airport. 

As soon as she exits the plane, she follows the signs to the baggage claim, waiting for her luggage that isn’t only for this next week, but is for the entire summer as well before she returns to UCLA in the fall. After the draft, she’s heading back to Massachusetts to work in a clinic for the summer. 

Fuck, she just had her last final three days ago. She feels like it never stops. Sometimes she wishes it would. 

But she shakes her head to herself, watching as her bag comes closer. None of that now. She’s about to celebrate one of her favorite people making their dream come true. She smiles to herself as she wheels her suitcase and adjusts the straps of her backpack, not quite running but pretty close to it as she walks through the arrivals terminal of Dallas Fort Worth International Airport. 

“Clementine!” She whips her head over to see Ellen’s unmistakable blonde hair and wide smile, waving enthusiastically. Next to her is Maeve, her own mother with a more subdued smile, her carry-on suitcase beside her. They had scheduled their flights so that they’d land around the same time. To Clementine’s absolute delight, she sees Jack and Luke right before Luke comes flying at her. 

“Oof,” she groans as Luke hugs her tightly, burying his head into her shoulder. “God. You need to stop growing.”

“Never,” he mutters into her neck before letting go with a bright smile. “Hi Clemmy!”

She grins back. “Hi Lukey. I’ve missed you.”

“My turn!” She laughs as Jack shoves his brother aside and sways her around. He messed up her hair before pulling away. “I’m so pumped you’re here.”

“Me too, Jackson.” Both moms finally get to where they are and she hugs Ellen before hugging her own mother. “When did you land?”

“About an hour ago.”

Clementine cringes. “Yeah, we were delayed back at LAX. Sorry.”

Ellen waves her apology away as they start heading out of the airport, Jack grabbing her suitcase and Luke grabbing Maeve’s. “No worries. We’re just excited you both are here.”

“El, we wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Maeve says. And her mom’s right, Clementine thinks. Quinn’s getting drafted into the NHL. She can’t remember a time when this wasn’t his dream. 

“How have you been? How’s college?” Jack asks. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in forever.”

“We literally all FaceTimed last week,” Luke says while avoiding Jack’s slap. 

“It’s not the same,” Jack whines. Clementine rolls her eyes at his tone, but he kinda has a point. FaceTimes and texts are never the same as their in-person debriefs, which have become fewer and more in-depth since all four of them are in different-ish places now (though Jack and Luke technically still live under the same roof and Quinn isn’t that far). 

Clementine feels a pang in her heart, knowing that the amount of debriefs will only get fewer and fewer as the years go on. 

“College is good,” she automatically squints against the sun the second they get outside. “Same old, same old. Didn’t fail any classes somehow, which is always a win.”

Ellen snorts. “Honey, you’re literally the smartest girl I know. I don’t think failing is in your vocabulary.”

“No, literally.” Luke adds. 

“Aw, not true. Thank you, but not true. And this weekend isn’t about me.” Clementine whips out her arm in front of Jack’s front so that he doesn’t get run over by a car. “I didn’t expect to see you two until dinner.”

Jack shrugs. “We were gonna tag along with Dad, but we already did to some of his stuff yesterday and it was so boring.”

Clementine snorts. “Well, he’s technically kind of working this weekend, no?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think it would be that boring,” Jack says. 

“You two better get used to it then,” she swings an arm around both Jack and Luke’s shoulders. “Especially you, Jacky. This is gonna be you next year.”

Jack groans, but Clementine knows he secretly loves it. “Ugh. Don’t remind me. You’re gonna be here, right?”

“Where?”

“Next year. At the draft.”

“What? Of course I will.” How dare he think differently? “And whenever Luke’s is. You guys are silly for thinking otherwise.”

“But what if you’re too busy saving lives?”

“It doesn't matter where I am. I’ll be there,” Clementine promises, as they all climb into the car. 

“Clem’s right, boys.” Maeve says, turning around from the passenger seat as Ellen starts the engine. “You can’t get rid of us that easily.” Luke responds by putting his chin on Maeve’s shoulder as she reaches up to tap his cheek fondly. “Have you all gotten the chance to see Quinn much?”

“Here and there,” Ellen says. “Media and last minute meetings with teams have been keeping him busy though.”

Clementine has naturally always known more about the hockey world than the average person purely from her circumstances, but within the last month or so — mostly when she’s been procrastinating on studying for final exams — she’s been poking around online to see people’s pre-draft predictions. Obviously, she knows they’re just speculations, but she wanted to get an idea of what the general world has been thinking of Quinn. She thinks he’s the best at everything, but she’s aware she’s incredibly biased. 

She hasn’t really talked to Quinn, or the other two, about it, knowing that it’s all they’ve been thinking or hearing about and there’s no use adding onto the noise. But Clementine wants to be prepared. From her research, people have Quinn going to places from Arizona to Vancouver to Ottawa. She’s seen Detroit a good amount. One or two said New York or Chicago. 

But at the end of the day, truly, it doesn't matter. For her at least. He’s getting drafted into the National Hockey League and Clementine brought two waterproof mascaras to prepare. 

“God, El.” Maeve puts a hand on her best friend’s shoulder. “You must be so proud.”

“It’s definitely a big week,” Ellen says. Jack puts his head on Clementine’s shoulder because she somehow ended up in the middle seat. But she doesn’t shove him off like she usually would. 

Every time she sees these boys — this family — again, she feels more grateful to have them.

“Thanks for picking us up,” Clementine says. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Oh, it was nothing.” Ellen says. “Now tell us about college, honey. Only one more year to go! Well, of undergrad at least.”

…..

Later that night, they’re about to go inside a nice restaurant for dinner when Clementine squeals, launching herself at Quinn. She feels his laughter as she squeezes tight and she holds on longer than normal. 

“Hey Clem,” he says. 

She pulls back and smiles, before hugging him again. “Hi Q.”

“It’s so good to see you,” he says, as Clementine lets go to let him hug Maeve, who sways him. Clementine thinks she sees her mother’s eyes water. 

Clementine turns to beam at Jim. “Hi Jimmy!”

“Hey sunshine,” he says with a laugh, hugging her and kissing her on the cheek. “Glad you and your mom made it.”

“Of course.” They all file into the restaurant and take their seats. She sits inbetween Quinn and Ellen with Jack directly across from her. She narrows her eyes when he kicks her foot and purposefully avoids her eye contact. 

She turns to Quinn with a wide smile. “Look at you. You’re such a star.”

Quinn laughs nervously. “What are you talking about?”

“We’re here. In Dallas. To watch you get drafted. This is a big deal!”

“Are you gonna cry?” Luke teases. 

Clementine snorts. “Of course I am. Stupid question, Lukey. I’m gonna be crying all weekend.” She wraps an arm around Quinn and leans in for a side hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to come to see you play at Michigan this year. I’ll try my best next season.”

“What?” Quinn asks, genuinely confused. “It’s okay. I-I didn’t expect you to. You’re busy at school.”

She shrugs, thanking the waitress for pouring out her glass of water before turning back to Quinn. “I want to, though. Jack and Luke and even Trevor keep texting me that I need to come to one.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Quinn says. And Clementine knows he means it too, the sweet boy. “I’m serious. You already stream the games and that’s completely unnecessary.”

“Sorry I want to support my best friend slash brother.”

Quinn pouts, “Well now I feel like an asshole.”

Clementine just smirks as everyone looks over the menu.

Dinner is simply wonderful. The food is yummy but the company is even better, as she finds herself laughing loudly at all of Ellen’s classic stories and Maeve bouncing off of her old friend seamlessly. Clementine just giggles under her breath as she watches Jim sit there in amusement and sometimes exasperation, ordering a second beer before their main courses even come. The boys are the boys, lively as ever and filled with love. The feeling of anticipation and excitement in the air has Clementine just putting her chin on her hand, observing the love around her. 

Her father would’ve loved this. 

As if he knows that she’s about to go too deep in her thoughts, Luke pulls on her ponytail. She shoots him a look as she’s swallowing her bite of gnocchi. “What?”

He beams. “Nothing.”

She rolls her eyes, but smiles nonetheless. Luke will always be her baby, but it’s moments like this when she realizes that he’s growing up so fast. As Quinn laughs at something his dad said and she watches Luke’s eyes drift towards him, she bites her lip. Soon enough, it’ll be Luke in his oldest brother’s shoes seeing what team will draft him. 

She blinks as a hand waves in front of her. “Earth to Clee,” Jack says. 

“What’s up?”

Jack gives her a hopeful look. “Can I try some of your pasta?”

“Cut me a piece of your steak and then we’ll talk.”

…..

The next few days, Clementine and her mom explore Dallas. Ellen, Jack and Luke join them when they can, Jim comes on the rare time that he doesn’t have meetings and Quinn is just too busy to join at all. Clementine’s surprised Ellen, Jack and Luke are even tagging along with them. But she welcomes it. 

Until Jack is nudging her way too close to the edge of the sidewalk and she stumbles. Luke just laughs and both Ellen and Maeve don’t see it because they’re walking up ahead. Assholes. 

The day of the draft comes quickly, and her and her mom are staying in the same hotel the Hughes family is. They get ready right after lunch, as Maeve and Clementine take charge of being the communication liaison for the rest of the Hughes family who’s here on this special day to let Ellen and Jim handle what they need to. Ever since the day Ellen introduced Maeve to her family, Maeve’s become one of them. Clementine smiles as she watches Geegs, Ellen’s mom, and her mom hug, opening her own arms happily when it’s her turn. 

“Hi Sweetie.”

“Hi Geegs,” she lets the older woman place her hands on her cheeks. 

“You look more like your father the older you get. Beautiful.”

Clementine swallows as she reaches up to squeeze her pseudo-grandma’s wrists, before turning to greet the various other family members. Most of them she knows, some she doesn’t. Many she hasn’t seen since she went to college. 

She volunteers to wait downstairs for everyone to come while her mom makes a few trips to and from the hotel room where Ellen, Jim, Quinn, Jack and Luke are. Once she’s 99% sure everyone is at the hotel, she makes the trip up to the room herself. In the elevator mirror, she glances at her outfit. A blush pink wrap dress with white heeled sandals. She’s decided to keep her hair down, a hair elastic around her wrist that will no doubt be used the second she steps outside into the Dallas heat. Earrings that Ellen gave her for her 18th birthday are dangling from her ears.

And of course, the three friendship bracelets tied around her left wrist. They don’t match any part of her outfit, but it doesn’t matter. She rubs over them with her right thumb as the elevator door opens. 

When she knocks on the door, it’s swung open immediately by one of their many cousins. Emily, who can’t be more than five years old, immediately wraps her arms around Clementine’s legs.

Clementine laughs, maneuvering carefully so that she can shut the door behind her before bending down to fully hug the girl. “Hi Em.”

“Hi Clee!”

“How are you?” Clementine stands back up. “You look so pretty.”

“Thank you,” Emily reaches out to tug at Clementine’s hand and she obliges. “Everyone’s been looking for you.”

“Really?” Clementine asks skeptically as she follows the young girl down the short hallway.

“Well, maybe just me.” They come to a stop and there’s a big call of her name echoed throughout the room. Clementine smiles bashfully. The Hughes extended family has always been nice to her, but this isn’t her day. She eyes the camera out of the corner of her eye and blinks.

Sometimes she forgets that the three boys she calls her brothers have outside attention on them. Which is dumb, because duh. But she forgets they’re not just… Quinny, Jacky and Lukey. 

Though today, out of all days, nothing will let her forget. She thinks she’s okay with that. 

The sound of Luke calling out her name puts her a bit more at ease. “I was starting to think you got lost.” She rolls her eyes, ignoring him as she gets pulled into hugs. 

She eventually stops in front of her mother, who just raises an eyebrow and lowers her voice. “You have the cufflinks?”

She nods, blindly reaching into her purse and feeling around for her small gift for Quinn. “Yeah. I’ll give it to him when he starts getting dressed.”

Jim, who overhears the exchange between mother and daughter, eyes them suspiciously. “Cufflinks? Mae, you already got him-”

“Not from me,” Maeve sings with a mischievous smile. “Technically, this one is all Clem.” Jim rolls his eyes as Clementine smiles innocently, before she gets pulled into a conversation with Lara, one of the aunts. 

She notices immediately when Quinn is ducking into the attached bedroom to change and quickly scurries in his direction. She stops in the doorway, watching as Quinn starts unzipping the garment bag that’s holding the suit that Maeve gifted him for this very day. “You have a second?” Clementine says. 

Quinn turns around quickly with a small smile. “Of course.” Clementine walks in and reaches into the outside pocket, taking out the small black pouch. Immediately, Quinn is shaking his head. “Clem, no.”

“You don’t even know what it is!”

“I don’t have to. Clem, the fact that you’re here and I’m wearing a suit your mom made me. That’s enough. That’s more than enough.”

Clementine pouts, “It’s never enough. Open it.” With a skeptical look, he carefully takes the pouch for her hands and opens it. He gently lays the cufflinks out on the palm of his hand. They’re silver, a Q and an H written out in cursive on each. “It’s nothing too crazy, but-”

“It’s perfect,” Quinn breathes out. He closes his fest and looks up, pulling Clementine into a very tight hug. “Thank you so much.”

She can feel herself starting to tear up. Dammit. “I’m so…god, I don’t know.”

He pulls away and laughs. “You’re already crying?”

“I’m trying not to,” she whines, watching as he puts the cufflinks back into the pouch and places them on a nearby table. She clears her throat. “I’ll let you get ready.”

She smiles at him one last time before turning around to walk out of the room. “Clem?” He says. 

She whips her head back around. “Yeah?”

“I love you.” 

She swallows and puts a hand up. “Don’t,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady. He laughs and she laughs with him. “I love you too, Quinny. So much.”

He nods and she leaves the room and enters the other bedroom. Immediately, she’s met with Jack. He takes one look at her watery eyes and cackles. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Jack’s eyes widen as he clasps his watch around his wrist. “Little ears!”

“You’re a big boy. You can handle it.” She sits down on the edge of the bed across from him, eyeing his formal attire. Only his blazer is missing. She softens. “You look great.”

Jack beams. “Thanks, Clee! You do too.”

“You think?” She says playfully, smoothing down her dress. 

“Yes,” he says genuinely, causing her to look at him. “You look beautiful.”

She just smiles, making grabby hands at him. Jack obliges, collapsing into her for a tight hug that has a tear falling down Clementine’s face. A few other ones slip out as Luke walks in and immediately wraps himself around the two. 

The ride to the arena is quick, Maeve in charge of driving her daughter, Aunt Lara, Uncle Rich and Emily. Once they’re parked, Maeve sees a text from Ellen saying that that the Hughes family who were riding on the bus also just got there and asks if she and Clementine can meet them for a second before they all go their separate ways — the Hughes family to their spots and the others to the designed family and friends area on the other side of the arena. Maeve furrows her eyebrows, muttering about what her old friend could possibly want, but obliges.

Clementine hears the crowd before she sees them, knowing that Quinn is somewhere in the thrall. Before Clementine and Maeve can be confused about where they go, they see Ellen waving them over. 

“What’s up? Did you forget something?” Maeve asks. 

Ellen shakes her head with a smile. Suspicious. “No. Come on. They just opened the doors.”

“What?” Maeve and Clementine ask in unison as they follow Ellen. 

“Surprise! You two are sitting with us.”

“El-”

“Nope,” Ellen glares at Maeve. “No arguments. Quinn wanted you both with him when his name gets called, and it’s his day, so what he says goes.”

Clementine snorts. Dirty move pulling that. But she knows Ellen knows exactly what she’s doing. 

“Are you sure?” Clementine asks softly. 

Ellen pulls her into a side hug as they walk into the building together. “Of course, honey. You’re family. You know that.”

The only three people who are actually in their seats when the three of them go up to their row are Jack, Luke and Geegs, who all just smile and direct them both to their designated seats — Clementine inbetween Jack and Geegs while Maeve is inbetween Ellen and Jim. Maeve sits on the other side of Geegs, the seat momentarily open and Ellen immediately leaves because she’s getting signaled to do media.

Thank god that she doesn’t have to do that, Clementine thinks. She thinks she’d rather die. 

Clementina takes her seat and narrows her eyes playfully at Jack and Luke. “You little secret keepers.”

Luke laughs as Jack smirks. “Good to see you again.”

“Yeah,” she breathes out, looking around and taking in her surroundings for the first time. “This is bananas.”

“Pretty cool, isn’t it?” Luke says. And yeah, it is cool. And wonderful. But also scary? And Clementine’s not the one being drafted. 

Clementine sees Quinn and the Tkachuk brothers coming up to where they are. She’s only met Brady and Matthew a handful of times, but everytime has been as lovely as the last. Brady is immediately occupied by Jack and Luke so Clementine turns to Matthew, standing up and giving him a quick hug. 

“Hey Clementine. Long time no see,” Matthew says into her ear. 

Clementine chuckles. “Hi Matty. It’s good to see you.”

“You look beautiful. Most stunning woman in the room.”

She rolls her eyes. Fucking charmer. “The flirting didn’t work when we were 17. It’s not gonna work when we’re 20.”

Matthew pouts playfully. “At least I tried.” He smiles genuinely. “You excited? It’s a big day.”

“Yeah. It’s quite something.” They both look at Quinn and Brady and she nudges Matthew. “Big day for you guys too. I bet your parents are excited.”

“Yeah, they are. I’m sure you’ll see them later. Last I heard you were in college?”

“I am. Just finished my junior year at UCLA. One more to go.”

Matthew whistles. “Damn. You still wanna be a doctor?”

“That’s the plan.”

He shakes his head with a smirk. “Smartest Hughes by far.” She just shoves his shoulder playfully.

“Clem!” Brady interrupts them by corralling her into a hug, causing Matthew to almost fall. 

Clementine giggles. “Hey Brady. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Brady beams. Clementine finds him absolutely endearing. 

“Whatever team calls your name is lucky to have you.” Brady just keeps smiling and it’s so damn infectious.

Ellen and Jim return and Brady and Matthew take that as a signal that they should head back to their seats. Clementine smiles as the boys all exchange hugs — Quinn and Brady’s lasting longer than all the others — and settles back into her seat. Geegs offers her a bottle of water and Clementine thanks her with a grin. 

“I’m nervous,” she mutters to Geegs, so the boys can’t hear and make fun of her. 

“Me too, sweetie.” She says, patting her leg in such a grandmotherly way that makes Clementine miss her own. She catches Clementine looking down the row at Jack, Luke and Quinn, in that order and takes her hand to squeeze it. “They’re always gonna need you, you know?”

She whips her head back, Geegs with a light smile on her face. “What do you mean?” Clementine asks. 

“It doesn’t matter what team all three of them will eventually get drafted to, they’re always gonna need their big sister.” 

Immediately, Clementine shakes her head, trying not to fucking cry at an event that has nothing to do with her. “They’ve been doing just fine on their own.”

“Sweetie.” Geegs just says, looking at her with that look. 

And Clementine realizes the last time she saw that look, three years ago, a day before she was on a flight to LA, her father dying nine months prior but it feeling like yesterday. She had broken down in her childhood bedroom in Toronto, where everyone was downstairs about to have a farewell dinner to send her off. Geegs had seen her first before getting Maeve and Ellen, and then the three women were just holding Clementine and letting her cry. She had gone on a ramble about leaving home and going to LA and how she misses her dad and how her brothers are going to be so far away and are gonna forget about her. It was a lot for her at that time and the three most important women in her life helped her through it. 

She just leans her head on Geegs’s shoulder, before placing a kiss on her cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you too, sweet girl.” 

Geegs is about to say more before Jack starts incessantly tapping on Clementine’s shoulder. She rolls her eyes but catches Geegs’s knowing look before turning. “What?” Jack pouts at the snap in her tone and Clementine sighs. “Oh don’t give me that.”

“Why not? It works everytime.”

“What’s up?”

He just nudges her shoulder. “Just, I don’t know, wanna make sure you’re good.”

Clementine smiles, leaning her head on his shoulder as he rests his arm around the back of her seat. “I’m perfect.”

“You sure?”

She bites her lip. “Yeah. I just, I don’t know, not trying to bring down the mood but, I wish Dad was here, you know? He would’ve loved all this.”

Jack swallows and she feels him lean his head atop of hers. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “I was thinking that this morning, when we were all at the hotel and everything. I wish he was here too.”

She sneaks a look at Quinn, who’s chatting with his mom. “He would’ve been so proud.”

Jack hums. “Love you, Clee.”

It’s the second time she’s heard that from someone in the Hughes family in two minutes, but it still makes her emotional all the same. “Love you too, Jacky.” She breathes out and tries to gather herself. “God, can we get this show on the road? I’m getting antsy.”

Jack snorts. “Already? It’s gonna be a long night for you then.”

She narrows her eyes. “Careful. If you want me to sneak you a sip of alcohol later, you have to be nice to me.”

Jack huffs. “I can’t wait until the day I’m legal. The drinking age being 19 here is ruining my vibe.”

“Got a couple more years until that, buddy.” And then the arena lights start dimming and a tribute for the Humboldt Broncos tragedy starts. 

It begins. 

When Quinn’s name gets called seventh overall to the Vancouver Canucks, Clementine jumps out of her seat and immediately starts crying as she watches him hug his brothers, before hugging her tightly.

“I’m so proud of you, Q.” She mutters into his shoulder.

“Thanks, Clem.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” And she lets go to let him hug his grandmother. 

Clementine catches Ellen’s gaze right after Quinn hugs his mother and they share a watery smile, as she watches Maeve squeeze Quinn and kiss him on the cheek. As she watches him go down the stairs and give Brady a hug — she cheered extra loud when Ottawa called his name out earlier — she takes a deep shaky breath but laughs when Luke urges her to take Quinn’s seat. She sits down and squeezes Ellen’s hand, before Ellen kisses her on the cheek. 

Clementine is so overwhelmed and proud and excited for what’s to come, while also being very emotional about how much hard work it took for Quinn to get here. She’s had a front seat on seeing him grow up and it’s been the most incredible ride. 

Later, when they finally all meet up with Quinn again at one of the suites in the arena, she’s about half a vodka cranberry in and just watches all his admirers greet him, the Canucks jersey and hat adorning him nicely. When he finally comes up to her, she beams. 

Quinn laughs as he hugs her, “Already starting to drink?”

“It’s a big day,” she says, pulling away to look him up and down. “Holy shit, dude.”

“Careful. I’m mic’ed up.”

She rolls her eyes. “They can bleep that out. I’m so happy for you. How you feeling?”

“Good, good.” That’s all the words they exchange before other family members rightfully step in to offer their congratulations.

She knows it won’t fully sink in until later, probably when he makes his NHL debut. But what a special day that will live in Clementine’s memory forever.

(It’s not until they’re transferring the celebration to a nearby restaurant / bar does Clementine remember. She literally stops in her tracks, and Quinn, who’s walking beside her and was talking about all the media stuff he had to do, looks at her, confused. 

“Everything good?” He asks. 

Clementine digs into her purse to pull out an envelope. “Yeah. I just almost forgot.”

He takes the envelope, still confused. “What’s this?”

“It’s from Dad.” Quinn blinks at the familiar scribble of his name. “I’ve been keeping it safe this whole time.”

“Fuck, Clem. I-what’s in it?”

She shrugs. “Whatever he wanted to say to you during this moment. I got one when I graduated high school. I’m almost certain your parents probably got theirs today or will eventually from my mom.” She smiles sadly as Quinn sniffs, still staring at the envelope. “Read it later,” she urges softly. “It’ll still be there tomorrow.”

Quinn nods, putting it inside his suit jacket as they continue walking. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.” He pauses for a few seconds before hugging Clementine the tightest he’s hugged her today. “Thank you.”

“I’m just the messenger,” Clementine says, but she hugs him back. “I know he’s so proud of you, wherever he is.”

Quinn just nods into her shoulder and Clementine feels like they’re kids again)

2019 - los angeles, california

you’re the only friend i need

sharing beds like little kids

and laughing till our ribs get tired

but that will never be enough

- “ribs” by lorde

Clementine’s trying to stifle a yawn as the speeches start. At least they got over the majority of the speeches yesterday during all-university commencement. 

She knows her mom, Ellen and Jim are in the crowd somewhere, from the selfie she got from them as she was waiting to walk to her seat. Thankfully it’s not that hot out, especially for LA, otherwise she’d be more restless than she already is in her lace white dress. Having a ceremony outside is kinda nice, actually, especially with the wind brushing around her legs. 

She walks on the stage, shakes the dean’s hand, gets her diploma and doesn’t faceplant at all, so she takes that as a win. She cheers for her friends when they walk across, and she’s still trying to wrap her head around the fact that four years have gone by so slowly yet so quickly. It’s been filled with great and tough moments, but she’s grateful despite it all. 

They throw their hats up and she embraces her friends, thinking about how they’re all gonna be spread out around the country in just a few months. Clementine’s staying in California, at least, heading to Stanford for medical school in the fall, but it’ll be so different. 

But that’s the beauty of it all, right?

After exchanging a few texts with her mom to establish a meeting place, she briskly walks over to the area, eager to see her family. But she stops in her tracks when she sees Quinn, Jack and Luke. 

They’re not supposed to be here. She blinks, wondering if she’s imagining it. But she hears Luke scream her name and it’s real. All in various colors of a button up and slacks and they’re fucking here. 

“Oh my god,” she says to herself before running over — as fast as she can in these heels — and absolutely crashing into Luke. Her cap falls off but she can’t even care. Jack’s next and hearing his laugh so close to her ear makes her fully start sobbing. By the time Quinn is swaying her side to side and handing her a huge bouquet of flowers “from all three of us,” she’s afraid her eyeliner is ruined. 

She quickly hugs her mom, Ellen and Jim, accepting two more smaller bouquets and turns back to the boys. “You guys are not-how are you here?”

“This was the plan all along,” Quinn laughs. “Come on, Clem. We weren’t gonna miss this.”

“B-but you’re supposed to be, I don’t know, somewhere! Jack, you’re supposed to be doing whatever the hell people do a week before their draft. And Luke, I swear you told me you had a tournament.”

Everyone’s laughing at her disbelief. “Just a few white lies here and there,” Jack says with a proud smile. “Quinn’s right. We wouldn’t miss this.”

“Congratulations, Clemmy!” Luke beams and Clementine wants to squeeze his fucking cheeks. “You didn’t trip walking across the stage.”

“And isn’t that a relief,” Jim jokes. 

Clementines points at the parents in mock accusation after adjusting her hold on all the flowers and her diploma. “You guys knew about this all along, didn’t you?”

“Of course we did,” Maeve rolls her eyes with a grin. “They’ve been planning this for months. Jack literally said he wouldn’t go to Worlds if it was at the same time as your graduation.”

She whacks him lightly across the back of his head with her diploma. “Stupid.”

“Hey!” Jack whines, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Okay, pictures! Before Clem completely cries her makeup off.” Ellen exclaims as they all laugh. Pictures take way too long but Clementine can’t even complain, even when Jack blows raspberries on her and she wants to strangle him. 

As they all walk around campus, Clementine giving an unofficial tour, she points out her old residences, where she used to study, where she’s cried, where she’s laughed. This campus means so much to her and houses so many memories that they’re not a part of. She also gets updates since the last time she saw them over her brief winter break. Luke officially committed to the NTDP, Quinn made his debut with the Canucks that she’s still upset she couldn’t make it for, both Quinn and Jack went to the World Championships, not to mention that Jack’s draft is literally in a week.  

They’re so interested in hearing about her last semester of college and congratulate her officially on Stanford even though Clementine thinks that’s nothing compared to what they’re accomplishing. She voices that, and Quinn immediately gives her a disapproving look that is kinda funny coming from someone younger than her and Luke rolls his eyes with the bold sass of a 15 year old.

Maybe that’s a good thing, Clementine thinks as Jack starts saying how he always talks to his friends about how his “smart, cool older sister” is gonna be a doctor and go to one of the top schools in the country. They all have their talents and they see each other’s accomplishments as the coolest thing in the world. 

She knows not everyone has that kind of support system. She is so blessed that she does, especially today. 

She’s surprised even more when she’s told her mom booked a reservation for one of her favorite farm to table places nearby for dinner, and she indulges herself with two glasses of wine, turning a blind eye when Quinn sneaks a sip. She glares when Luke tries though. Quinn’s at least closer to legal age. 

As she gets healthily tipsy, giggling at every single thing being said and Quinn subtly filling up her glass of water, a tear slips out again. Luckily, no one notices because she wipes it away very quickly.

Everything’s moving so fast. She wishes it would slow down. 

2019 - vancouver, british columbia 

slow down, you’re doing fine

you can’t be everything you wanna be before your time

although it’s so romantic on the borderline tonight

- “vienna” by billy joel

Clementine likes to think she’s more prepared this time around. But deep down, she asks herself if she really is. 

The vibe leading up to this draft compared to last year has been a bit different. While there was a good amount of focus on Quinn last year, it’s ramped so much higher this time around for Jack. She’s heard all about the hype. The draft of the Americans. The draft where Jack’s projected to go first.

And she really applauds Jack for handling it as well as he has. Clementine turns 22 in two weeks and she doesn’t think she could be as collected as Jack is at 18. But then again, all three brothers have been preparing for something like this their whole lives. 

Her and her mother are sitting with the family again with the draftees and this time it’s not a surprise. Maeve once again bought Jack’s suit and Clementine gifted him a watch this morning, and also gave him the letter from Miguel because she vowed to herself that she wouldn’t almost forget like she did for Quinn’s. Jack had just given her the longest hug. 

Jack’s been smiles all morning, confidence radiating off his skin. Clementine knows that most of that is genuine  — Jack has always worn his fearlessness the most outwardly compared to his brothers. So when he says he isn’t nervous, she believes him.

At least this time she has a clearer idea of where Jack will be. It’s either going to be New Jersey or New York. She, and everyone in the hockey world, would be shocked if he ended up in Chicago. 

New Jersey would be extra special. Her dad grew up there. So she hopes all the prediction articles she’s read are correct.

So now here they are. A different country and arena this time around. She’s sitting next to Luke and Geegs and there’s a lot more media that’s paying attention to them. Like right now, where it’s only her and Geegs at their seats because the entire Hughes family is doing media. Being on the bus with them this time around instead of driving to the arena herself, Clementine got more of a look into the behind the scenes stuff before the draft starts. She watched with pride as Jack walked down the carpet, signing autographs and probably charming every single person out there. 

As she walked into Rogers Arena, she got more nervous, smoothing down her olive green dress with her sweaty palms. She’s wearing the same white sandals she wore last year because of some sentimental thought she had in her head while figuring out her outfit. Friendship bracelets are on, hair is fully up this time in a high curled ponytail and her head’s all over the place.

But she also is distracted as Jack has wanted to introduce her to everyone. She’s met a lot of the kids in the program at least once, but it’s been awhile and it feels like she’s meeting them again. Everyone except for Alex, who has crashed some of Jack’s FaceTimes with her since he’s lived with the Hughes’ the last two years. Because of that, she’s inadvertently adopted him as another younger brother of sorts. Cole has the widest smile on his face and Clementine just wants to put him in her pocket. Trevor’s laugh is so contagious that Clementine understands why Jack always says him and Trevor are almost the same person. 

As she watches all of them together, she feels sad that she’s had to miss out on stuff like this, watching her younger brothers find their friends and their way and her only appearing in the stories the boys tell but not actually being in the stories. But what can she do? She chose to go to California for school. She’s choosing to stay in California for school. All with their full support and encouragement. 

That doesn’t mean she can’t be sad that she’s missing things back home. Wherever that is.

She snaps herself out of it though, those pangs of sadness she’s felt throughout the morning. It’s not fair on her emotions that she literally just packed her own stuff up from UCLA a week ago and now is here for one of Jack’s biggest moments. He’s so excited. She doesn’t want to cloud that. 

Jack’s ability to be so happy and excited is one of the best things about him.

Once everyone’s back to their seats, she’s bouncing her leg. Without looking, Quinn just puts a hand on her thigh to calm her down and she wonders for the 100th time in the last week when the fuck he got so observant and mature. 

(He always has been. Clementine’s just in a state of constant denial lately.) 

Jack gets picked first overall to the New Jersey Devils and Clementine, to no one’s surprise, starts crying. 

“Let’s go, baby!” He practically screams into her ear as he hugs her.

She laughs through her tears. “Congrats, Jacky. Love you.”

“Love you more, Clee.”

Jack walks down and makes his way onto the stage and Clementine is having the most intense case of deja vu in her life. Maeve hands her a tissue and she knows that some camera is capturing her wiping her eyes carefully. Hopefully the camera captures her whacking Quinn as he makes fun of her as well. She puts her hands over her heart watching Jack shake Gary Bettman’s hand. She can feel her dad’s love and happiness as if he’s here. 

And maybe he is, even if not physically. He’s here somewhere.  

(Hearing “Coming Home” by Diddy - Dirty Money and Skylar Grey playing as Jack walked down had Clementine wanting to slam her head through a wall. She knows Jack probably didn’t put too much thought into the song, but as she hears Skylar’s voice crooning on about letting the rain wash the pain away and coming home and forgiving mistakes, what else is she supposed to feel?)

She watches one by one as Jack’s friends get drafted with a big smile while enjoying the quiet commentary that Jim is offering. She’s still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Jack will probably be playing in the NHL this year and she still clearly remembers him hiding her shoes when they were younger. 

Clementine laughs as Jack launches himself at her when she sees him later, laughs even more when he and his buddies are being stupid and so boy-like that it makes her heart ache. At some point, someone has control of the aux and “The Spins” by Mac Miller starts playing and Clementine feels fond. Quinn appears beside her and she leans into him. 

“Is this how you feel all the time when you see us?” He asks. 

She breathes out. “Yup.” 

“I don’t know how you do it.”

“Me neither, Q.” 

He chuckles. “The curse of being an older sibling.”

“You have no fucking idea.” 

“The first thought I had when his name was called was that Miguel would’ve screamed.” 

She snorts. “Probably true. I gave Jack his letter this morning.”

“I know. I accidentally walked in just as he was finishing reading it.” He pauses suddenly. “Will you come watch when I come to play the Sharks?” 

She looks over at the vulnerable look in his eyes. “Of course.” She realizes then where Quinn’s fears are going. Michigan is only an hour and a half away from Jersey by plane, while Vancouver is four hours away by plane. She’s gonna be the closest to him out of the seven of them. “Of course I will, Quinn. Always.”

“Thanks,” Quinn replies, voice a bit rough. She just presses a kiss to his cheek.

…..

The next morning, Clementine’s woken up by a knock on the door. She groans, but the knocks keep happening so she kicks herself off the bed, throws on a UCLA sweatshirt over herself and opens the door. Jack’s standing at the doorway, hair all over the place and t-shirt and shorts wrinkly. 

“What the fuck, Jack?” She asks bluntly. 

“Sorry.” At least he looks apologetic. “Shit, sorry. I’m just a bit restless.”

“Get in. Quietly. We can talk on the balcony.” Jack gives her a thankful smile as he follows her into the room. They tiptoe past so that Maeve doesn’t wake up, Clementine grabbing her phone along the way. 

She groans as he closes the balcony door and she sinks down into one of the seats. “Jack, it’s 8 in the goddamn morning. Did you not see Ellen and I knocking back shots yesterday?”

Jack snorts. “Who didn’t? I’m pretty sure at least 10 people were filming.”

“What can I say? Your family and friends think I’m entertaining.” She yawns. “What’s up, superstar? What’s got your mind racing at this ungodly hour?”

He shrugs and Clementine wants to roll her eyes. But her semi-awake brain reminds her that this is how all three of them, but especially Jack, has always been. When there’s something bothering him, she always gives him time and lets him come to her. 

A few minutes of silence, before:

“I’m not in over my head, right?”

“About?”

“Everything.”

Clementine blinks. Frankly, she’s too tired and hungover to be a big sister right now. But she’ll try her best. “Jack Rowden Hughes. Don’t tell me you were just drafted number one in the National Hockey League, which is something that had been predicted for at least two years now, and are telling me you’re in over your head.”

He flinches. “Don’t full name me. It’s too early for that.”

She kicks him in the ribs. “You’re a good player, Jack. Which is honestly probably an understatement. I’ve seen you play since you were literally a child. It’s almost freaky how good you are.”

“But you have to say that.”

“I don’t have to say anything,” Clementine says. “I don’t have the time and energy to be bullshitting people anymore, especially you.”

Jack looks down at his hands. “I guess the expectations have always been there, especially recently. But it’s so much more now and that’s kinda scary, Clee.”

“Everything new is always gonna be scary,” Clementine says softly, the breeze waving with her words. “Always. I don’t care how ready for it you’ve been. I’ve been wanting to be a doctor since I was 16. You think I’m not scared to go to Stanford in the fall?”

He furrows his eyebrows. “B-but you’re so smart. You’re gonna be fine.”

“And you’re so talented. So you’re gonna be fine.” She says pointedly. “Realistically, no one can predict the future. Of course I hope that you and Quinn have a great rookie year and a long, successful career ahead of you. Same with Lukey when it’s his turn. But inevitably, there’s gonna be hard moments. That’s just life. You and I both know that. Hell, we’ve been through that together. Will people talk shit about your hard moments more than mine? Yeah, unfortunately, which I hate and wish I could change. But those people, you need to remember, don’t know you. The people who do know you and who love you whether you have skates on your feet or not? Those are the people you should be listening to. And we all love you and are so, so proud of you, Jacky.”

He scooches his chair over and leans his head on her shoulder. “How do you always know what to say?”

“I think I’ve known you all long enough just to know what to say so that you’ll listen to me.” She plays with his hair, staring out into the harbor the hotel borders. “You got all the time in the world to be who you want to be, Jack. And maybe sometimes that requires being in your head a bit. But you’ll come out okay in the end. You always have.”

She swears she feels a few of his tears drip onto her shirt. “I love you, Clee. I know I say it a lot but I mean it everytime.”

“I know you do.”

“I cried when you got your diploma last week.”

“I know. Luke told me.”

“Traitor,” he says with no heat. He throws his legs over her lap and tucks himself into her. “I-I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she parrots back.

He looks up at her from where he’s tucked his head under her chin and Clementine smiles sadly. He looks so young when he does that. He pouts. “You look sad.”

“I’m not sad.” 

He gives her a look. “Clementine Ana Sandoval.”

“Hey. You can’t do that,” she protests weakly. He waits. “I’m not sad, really. It’s just been an emotional week. In a happy way.”

“You can still be emotional in a happy way and be sad.”

She smiles. “I guess you’re right.” She kisses the top of his head. “I am so proud of you, Jack. Truly. I love you so much.”

“I love you the most, Clee. I’m serious.”

She looks at him with a smile, because she knows there’s just no way. He smiles back brightly in the morning light. 

His lips quiver and she frowns. “We’re gonna be so far apart now.” He whispers.

“We haven’t lived close to each other in awhile.”

“But it’s gonna be even farther.”

“Like I told Quinn, whenever you come play at San Jose, I’ll be there. I promise.”

“And what if I need you other times?”

“When have you called me and I haven’t picked up? Or haven’t called back within the hour?” Silence from him, because he knows she has a point. “Doesn’t matter how far apart we are. I’ll always be there for you.”

He nods, once to indicate that he heard, twice to inject those words into his veins. He kisses her cheek and she bites her lip. She’ll always love him. 

(They end up dozing off. Maeve wakes up and is very confused when she looks to see her daughter’s empty bed. Her gaze shifts to the balcony beyond the glass door and she smiles, watching Clementine and Jack’s chests fall and rise in sync. 

Maeve snaps a picture and sends it to Ellen, before getting out of bed to shower. She’ll give them some more time to rest.)

2021 - canton, michigan

laugh until we think we’ll die

barefoot on a summer night

never could be sweeter than with you

- “home” by edward sharpe & the magnetic zeros

The second her mom pulls into the Hughes’s driveway after 13 hours of being in the car, Clementine immediately runs to Ellen, who’s standing by the doorway waiting to greet them.

She breathes in Ellen’s familiar citrus perfume and melts into her arms. A year and a half into the pandemic has felt like 30 years, and Clementine just feels lucky that she can be here. She steps aside to let Maeve and Ellen embrace, getting the luggage from the car. 

“Where are Jimmy and the boys?” Maeve asks as they all gather in the kitchen and Ellen starts reheating some lasagna.

“Playing golf. They’ll be back soon.”

All three of them are collectively a bottle of white wine in deep when they hear a call pull into the driveway. Clementine can hear the moment the boys see the Massachusetts license plate because she hears Luke scream “Maeve and Clemmy are here!” and three car doors slamming before they barrel into the house. 

Clementine just waves her fingers and giggles. Quinn reaches her first, hugging her and lifting her off the stool as she laughs into his neck. Luke’s next — has he grown even more? — and she places three consecutive kisses on his cheek. Jack’s smile is as bright as ever and she threads one hand in his hair as he spins her around. 

Then finally, Jim, who’s been patiently waiting his turn. When she hugs him, she turns her cheek so that it’s against his chest. He places a fatherly kiss in her hair and she feels like a little girl again. 

In her wine drunk stage, she happily listens to the boys babble on about whatever, Maeve chiming in from time to time with stories about what it’s like trying to teach ten year olds over Zoom. At one point, Jack spits out a mouthful of beer and Quinn’s grimacing while Clementine grabs a paper towel without missing a beat in her retelling of how she should’ve gotten an A on a final paper she submitted last semester. 

(Jack had rolled his eyes, muttering “fucking overachiever” under his breath which Clementine glared at him for. Mr. Number One Pick shouldn’t be talking) 

It sucks that Luke won’t be able to get the same draft experience his brothers did, but in a way, it’s a wonderful compromise. He gets to be at home surrounded by his family and friends. Sure, media is still somehow finding their way in because it’s the draft and because he’s a Hughes but it won’t be nearly as much as it has been before. 

Clementine finds a bit of comfort in knowing that Luke won’t immediately jump into the NHL like Jack did. Not that she doesn’t want him to. She wants them to get everything they want in life. But Luke is her baby. He’s perpetually eight years old in her mind. 

And this isn’t the time to dwell on this, but Jack’s rookie year was so tough on him. She’ll never forget getting a call at 2 am his time, absolutely hyperventilating over the phone. After that, she demanded he call her once every week for at least two months after. Luckily, Quinn had a great rookie year and Jack’s second year was better, but goodness, she needs a bit more time to prepare before she starts getting middle of the night calls from three Hughes brothers involving a world she’s still learning about day by day. 

The next week is relaxing and lovely, Clementine having nothing to do for the first time in awhile having taken two weeks off from her summer job at Boston Children’s for this. She lets herself sleep in, takes naps in the backyard and on the boat, moves around slowly in the kitchen to help prepare dinner and cherishes the sounds of Quinn, Jack and Luke’s laughter echoing through the house. 

…..

The night before the draft, Clementine feels a bit restless. She tosses aside her blanket and tiptoes downstairs in a Michigan sweatshirt that she’s stolen at some point this week. Wiping her eyes, she quietly opens cabinets and pokes through the pantry, concluding that the Hughes household has all the ingredients she needs to make brown sugar cookies. Luckily, sound doesn’t travel much in this house, she’s learned. Clementine starts to get to work. 

By the time she’s waiting for the oven to finish preheating so she can put cookies into the oven, she hears footsteps coming down the stairs. She’s about to open her mouth to apologize but snaps it shut when she sees Quinn, all cozied up in a black t-shirt and gray sweats, hair absolutely all over the place. 

He blinks. “Why are you awake?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Quinn scans over the three trays of cookies waiting to go in. “Didn’t both our moms bake a gigantic cake today?”

“Yup.”

He hums. The oven beeps and before she can react, he slides the trays in. As he shuts the oven door, Clementine pours him a glass of water as she sets a timer on her phone.

“Why are you awake at this hour, Quinny?”

Quinn shrugs. “I was up to use the bathroom. Thought I heard something downstairs and wanted to check it out.”

She yawns. “Yeah, sorry.”

“I didn’t know you baked.”

“Newer habit. One of my roommates, Allie, you’ve met Allie over FaceTime, she’s a stress baker. Whenever exam season hit, there were baked goods all over our apartment. Picked up on a thing or two.”

Quinn hums. “What’s Allie up to this summer?”

“She just started her residency in Florida.”

“So she graduated?”

“Yup. Now I’m all alone.” Quinn rolls his eyes because he knows that’s not true. It isn’t. Clementine still has two other roommates as they continue looking for a third. 

“I still can’t believe you had time to do med school applications as well as a full course load,” Quinn says. “Like, I know you said that’s kinda normal. But how did you have the time?”

Clementine snickers. “I’m not sure how I did. Pure rage and fumes? ”

“I mean, you’re superwoman. You always have been. But damn. There are really no breaks for you, eh?”

“Coming here is a break.”

“Good,” she ruffles his hair. Quinn sighs. “Can’t believe it’s finally little Lukey’s turn.”

“Yeah. I’ve been having a crisis about it all summer. Makes me feel old.”

“You’re only 24?”

“Exactly,” she deadpans. “Old.”

Quinn rolls his eyes. They both look up as someone else comes down the stairs. Alex, who came in just a few hours ago, rubs his eyes with his fists. “What the fuck are you two doing up awake?”

“Clem’s making cookies.”

Alex blinks. “And you are?”

“Keeping her company.”

Alex just shrugs before sitting down across from her. He nods in thanks when Clementine fills up a glass of water for him. “Haven’t really gotten the chance to catch up with you. How’s Stanford?”

Clementine snickers. “Good. Well, as good as it can be in a pandemic. School’s school. First two years were mostly by the textbooks. Next two will be textbooks and clinicals so I’ll be in the hospital. Hopefully.”

“Clinicals?”

“Like, actually working with patients. Or like, observing in the hospital with a supervisor. The good stuff.”

“Sounds smart,” Alex hums. “How do you feel that all your babies will have been drafted 24 hours from now?” 

Fucking asshole. She doesn’t know why Ellen has a soft spot towards Alex when he’s clearly a nuisance. He just laughs at her pout and Quinn shakes his head with a close-lipped smile. “Don’t get her started. It’s 1 a.m.”

Her eyes roll so hard they might as well fall out of her head. “Don’t you have siblings?” He nods. “Are they younger or older?”

“Older. I’m the youngest.”

She huffs and Quinn grins. “That makes sense,” she says. “You don’t get it.”

Alex gets up and pulls Clementine into a quick side hug as he gets more water. “I only got to hear about how you were crying when Quinn and Jack got called. Now I’ll get to see for myself.”

“Careful,” she says wearily. Careful of what, she doesn’t know, but she needs to instill some sort of dominance as the oldest here. Quinn snickers into his sweatshirt. 

Her timer beeps a few minutes later and she shuts it off. Quinn ushers her aside while he grabs the trays and sets them on the counter to cool while Clementine digs around for a large tupperware container to store them. Alex just stares at them hungrily and she can’t even be annoyed. She sees that look in all the Hughes brothers’ eyes all the time in the kitchen. And Alex might as well be a Hughes. 

Once they each finish a cookie, Clementine shoos them both upstairs as she follows behind them to try and go back to sleep. Tomorrow’s a big day.

…..

The next morning comes quickly. She’s sharing a room and bed with her mother but she’s nowhere to be found. Instead, Clementine gets woken up by Jack jumping on her bed. Thankfully, he avoids anything that could really hurt her, but she still grunts, whacking him in the stomach and shooing him out of the room before beginning to get ready. She can already hear various family and friends coming through the front door downstairs.

She gets dressed in a cream romper she found on sale a month ago and pulls out, of course, the white sandals. She rummages through her backpack to find the letter — the final one she’s in charge of — and quickly debates on when she’ll give it to Luke. 

Now, she decides, putting it on the bedside table. Before the cameras turn on. She slips her phone into the pockets of her romper — she’s pumped they even have pockets — and walks down the stairs. Immediately at the front door, she’s met with Emily. She’s nine now and Clementine just goes on her knees and holds her tightly. Clementine then quickly runs into Ellen, who wants to introduce her to some people — some she’s met a handful of times, some she hasn’t met once.

It’s lovely, in a way, knowing that while their lives are so intertwined, there’s always someone new to meet or someone to reunite with. The support system for all of them is so much larger than she could’ve ever dreamed of, as she grins when Sophia, who she last saw at Quinn’s draft, hugs her tight like they just saw each other yesterday. She’s in her second year at Michigan on the lacrosse team and so smiley and lovely.

Once she spots Luke, she taps his shoulder and he excuses himself from talking to one of Jim’s old friends. Luke’s constant smile this whole week has been small but genuine. As his eyes drift down to the envelope in her hands, she sees him swallow. 

Clementine hands it over and claps a hand on his shoulder. “Later, yeah? When you have a minute.”

Luke just nods expectantly. Like almost everything in life, his brothers have gotten their letters before him. If Clementine sometimes thinks too much about it, it makes her almost sad that Luke’s always had someone do something before him, whether it’s her or Quinn and Jack. But it’s also a blessing, in a way, she thinks, because in her eyes, Luke is the best out of all of them in pretty much every single way possible because he’s seen how the older three have messed up and can take from that. She knows Quinn and Jack agree. 

“Thanks for being here.”

“Of course.” She pulls him into a hug and breathes in. “Is that the cologne I gave you yesterday?”

“Yeah.”

“Cute.” Clementine gives him one last squeeze before pulling away. The house is filling up more and more and she knows her time is limited. “If I don’t catch you before, just remember that I love you, okay? And I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Clemmy.”

“I’ll look at the schedule soon and try to come down to see a game when I can.”

His eyes light up. “Really?”

“Duh. I gotta put all this Michigan merch I have to some use.” 

Luke shrugs. “I don’t know-I just figured, you saw Quinn at Michigan and you’ve seen Quinn and Jack in the show. Why would you come to see something you’ve already seen, you know?”

“Because it’s you, Lukey.” She squeezes his arm. “You’re always going to be my baby brother.”

She feels him relax as he folds himself into her arms again. 

The day passes by in a blur as Clementine is enjoying catching up with everyone. And there’s a feeling of gratitude in that everyone can gather with each other again after so much isolation in different parts of the continent for so long. She sees Josh for the first time in literal years and happily spends time catching up with him. 

For most of the day, she forgets that it’s draft day. She’s just bouncing around, sipping casually on her cider and snacking. The cookies she made the night before are gone very quickly, which makes her laugh to herself. 

Once Luke disappears upstairs to get dressed, she finds herself leaning against a doorway, staring out into the living room that’s filled with people but not really looking at anything. 

“You okay?”

She turns to see her mom, pearl earrings matching her deep red blouse. Clementine grins. “Yeah. Just zoned out for a minute.”

Maeve lets out a heavy breath. “Last one.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s weird. I always knew he’d get here. All of them. But then it happens. And you think you’re prepared, but you’re not.” Clementine perks up. Her mom doesn’t often get into these types of moods, always the fun-loving, energetic woman. Her dad was more the outwardly perceptive one. Maeve just continues with a small smile. “From the most adorable little boys to incredible young men.”

Clementine laughs. “They’ll always be little to me.”

“Take how you feel and multiply that by three hundred and that’s where I’m at as I’ve seen all of you together this week,” Maeve says with a snort. She hooks her chin on Clementine’s shoulder. “Love you, Clementine.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

Soon enough, everyone’s gathered in front of the TV, with a few cameras around and someone on standby who’s gonna do an interview right when Luke’s name gets called. On the couch and chairs at the front, from right to left, are Geegs, Ellen, Quinn, Luke, Jack and Jim. Her and Maeve are standing right behind Jim and Alex and Josh are next to Clementine. 

This time, it could be Anaheim or Columbus or Detroit. Maybe San Jose. 

Or it could be New Jersey. 

She knows Jack has been pretty outwardly casual about it — he knows nothing, he’s just hoping. But she knows Jack. He wants his younger brother with him. And it would be lovely for those two to play on the same team. What are the odds? 

(Apparently, pretty good.)

Luke gets drafted to New Jersey fourth overall. The whole house explodes with cheers. She’s never seen Jack so excited. Maeve puts her hands on Jim’s shoulders as Luke is hugging Quinn and Jim turns around, eyes wet. That’s what sets Clementine off crying. When it’s her turn to get a hug from Luke, she rises to her tiptoes and throws her arms around his neck. 

“Congrats, Lukey. Proud of you.”

“Thanks, Clemmy. I love you.”

She smacks a kiss on his cheek. “I love you too.” Luke then hugs Maeve, Alex and Josh before continuing down the line. 

From there, there’s media to be down and they quickly set up. Most of the family stays in the room as the three boys adjust themselves on the couch, ready to answer some questions. After Geegs gives her a big hug and Luke throws on Jack’s Devils jersey, Clementine bites her lip and suddenly spins on her heel, feeling overwhelmed. 

Alex notices, furrowing his eyebrows as he lightly grabs her arm. “You okay?”

Clementine nods with a smile. “Yeah. I’m just gonna get some air.”

Alex just nods. “Okay,” he squeezes her shoulder in a side hug. “Don’t be too long or we’ll all come looking for you.”

“I won’t,” she promises, before quietly slipping out the screen door in the backyard. 

She takes a deep breath, wiping her eyes and deciding to take a little walk around the block. She stares out at the sky, currently painted in hues of pink and purple as the sun is starting to set. Michigan is beautiful. She can understand why they all love it. She fiddles with the three friendship bracelets and her vision blurs as she starts lightly crying again. 

It’s been a long time coming. All of this always has. But like her mom said, it doesn’t mean she’s ready for it. 

After a nice walk, Clementine sits down on the swing in the front yard. She can hear the commotion happening inside the house and in the backyard, but she’s not quite ready to go back in yet. She watches the sun continue setting, thankful that it’s just windy and cool enough to not have the mosquitos attacking her. 

Quinn’s in Vancouver. Jack’s in New Jersey. Both of them are looking to stay long term. Luke will be going to Michigan for at least a year. If Clementine’s inkling is right, it’ll be two, just like Quinn did. And then Luke will be in New Jersey. She’s in California for two more years. And then who knows where for residency afterwards. Ellen and Jim are mainly based in Michigan and her mom’s out in Massachusetts.

Will they ever all live close enough to each other again? Will there ever be more than just the holidays, which started already looking different ages ago when the boys started having tournaments at that time of the year? Will there ever be a time where they’re all able to be together for more than two — maybe three if they’re lucky — times a year? 

She’s accepted by now that no, they probably will never live near each other again or see each other more than they currently do. But she can hope, right? 

Because she’s made a home for herself in a few places now. Massachusetts, where Mom is. California, where she’s been for six years, She hasn’t lived in Toronto for six years now, but that will always be home too. 

But home, Clementine realizes, as she hears Quinn’s contagious laughter filter from the house, is this. Home is Quinn’s subtle loyalty and kindness that knows no bounds. Home is Jack’s contagious vivacity and love that envelopes every room. Home is Luke’s steadfast resilience and empathy that pulls everyone in. Home is Ellen’s warm hugs and Jim’s proud eyes. Home is her own mother’s…everything. 

Home is the way her father lives in all their memories, even six years after he’s gone. All the people he loved the most. That’s home. 

The front door opens. She looks up as Luke walks out and immediately smiles. He looks good in Devils red. “Hey.”

He grins. “Hi. I was looking for you.”

“Just needed some air. Are you done with media and interviews?”

“Yeah,” he slides in next to her. She watches his handle fiddle with the envelope, “Luke” written unmistakingly in Miguel’s handwriting. “I wanted to read this with you.”

Clementine shakes her head. “Nope. I was given very specific instructions. Your-”

“Eyes only,” Luke finishes. “Yeah, yeah. I know. But could you stay here while I read it to myself?”

She softens with a smile. “Of course I can.” 

She watches as his shaky hands carefully tear open the envelope, biting her lip as he unfolds the paper. She then purposely looks away as Luke leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes scanning the words. She places a hand on his back, rubbing small circles to let him know that she’s here. Once she hears the sound of him folding the paper, she turns to look at him. His lips are quivering and she corrals him into a hug. 

“I wish he was here,” Luke chokes out through tears and Clementine tilts her chin up to the sky to try to hold back her own. “I miss him so much, Clemmy.”

“Me too, Lukey,” she whispers, letting him place his head on her lap. “Me too.”

“It’s so unfair how little time we had with him,” he says and well, Clementine’s fully crying again because yeah, she was 17 when her dad died. But Luke was 11. Not even a teenager. “All I could really think of when I got picked was that Miguel’s from Jersey.”

Clementine smiles. “Yeah.”

“Kinda feels like fate, maybe?”

“Fate sounds good,” she says softly, stroking his cheek with her thumb as she smiles at him. “I really like the sound of that, actually.”

There are footsteps coming closer and Clementine turns behind her to see Quinn with Jack behind him. She gives them a bittersweet smile and nods at them to come sit. Quinn slides in next to her and Jack sits on the other side of Luke. 

“You okay, Moose?” Quinn asks softly.

“Yeah,” Luke says in a scratchy voice. “I’ll come back in in a few minutes.”

“Take your time,” Jack says, exchanging a look with Clementine as she starts playing with Luke’s hair. “No rush.”

“Did all your letters make you feel like this?” Luke asks. 

“Yup.” Jack snorts.

“Yeah.” Quinn sighs. “It still does.”

“I had to reapply my mascara before my grad party,” Clementine says lightly. All four of them chuckle. She swallows, “I love you guys. So much.”

Quinn kisses her on the cheek as Jack reaches out behind Luke to squeeze her shoulder. “We love you more, Clem.” Quinn mutters. 

They stay out on the swing for a little while, just the four of them. Only when the sun sets do they make their way to the backyard to rejoin everyone. Before he gets pulled away again, Clementine holds Luke one last time. 

bonus - 2028 - new york city, new york

ya no quiero que llores

the universe is gonna give you muchas flores

quitate ese miedo

you’ll be a lot more, trust me, yo te entiendo

- “a letter to my younger self” ambar lucid

Clementine really didn’t need everyone to be here. It’s only a lunch after all. 

But “it’s not like we have anything going on anyways,” Quinn had said, the lunch NYU is throwing to mark the end of people’s residencies taking place at the end of June during the off season. So when NYU said she could bring up to eight guests, she didn’t really have a solid argument. 

And here they are now, sitting in a small but beautifully decorated ballroom. Clementine’s wearing a dark purple jumpsuit as she looks around the table. Nico’s to her right, talking happily with Jim on his other side. Then it’s Jack, then Luke, then Quinn, then Ellen and then finally her own mother on Clementine’s left. They’re all dressed up a bit, the guys in button ups and Ellen and Maeve with nice blouses on. It makes Clementine smile.

It’s really not a formal thing. But she’s grateful to have them all here anyways.

“Okay, real talk.” Jack says across the table, grabbing Clementine’s attention. “Your attending physician who stopped by earlier? I would hit.”

Maeve snorts. Ellen sighs and just says his name in disappointment. Jim takes a sip of his beer trying to hide a smile. Quinn and Luke roll their eyes and Nico scoffs. 

“Really?” Clementine says dryly. 

Jack, like the menace he is, just smirks. “Absolutely. I mean, I know you’re engaged or whatever, but if you weren’t…”

“The person she’s engaged to is right here,” Nico says as Jack cackles. 

Clementine rolls her eyes. “Well, Dr. Butterfield is happily married with kids. Sorry to burst your bubble. Though I’m sure Amelie would also not be thrilled.”

Jack waves her off at the mention of his girlfriend. “Amelie would probably agree with me.”

“I don’t know how Amelie deals with you,” Nico shoots back. 

“Settle down,” Clementine says in a monotone voice. Even after so many years, Nico and Jack love finding anything to bicker about off the ice. “Let me eat my pasta in peace.”

“Better listen to Clem, boys,” Jim chuckles. “It’s her day.”

“It’s her month,” Luke clarifies, elbowing Jack. “Are you trying to get uninvited to her wedding?”

“Clee would never!” Jack exclaims. Which is true, but Clementine’s glad Luke is backing her up. 

“Nico would,” Nico grumbles. Good thing they’re not seated next to each other right now or she’s sure Jack would be smacking him. Which is hilarious, considering Jack is one of Nico’s groomsmen. 

Five years. Five years since she walked into Langone for the first time. Five years since she moved into Hoboken with Jack and Luke. She may not live with them anymore, but sometimes, with the amount they’re over her and Nico’s house, it feels like she still does. 

Five years of great moments and really, really tough ones. Five years of highlighters in her mouth, pencils twisted in a bun atop of her head, dark under-eye circles after overnight shifts, delirious conversations with her fellow residents and so, so much coffee. And before that, eight years of school, sometimes forgetting what it was all for. But here she is.

Doctor Clementine Sandoval has a nice ring to it. 

She’s brought out of her own world when she feels Nico squeeze her thigh lightly. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

“You zoned out again.”

She hums lightly. Nico always knows when to bring her back to the present. “Thanks.” He just kisses her temple. 

Along with eighteen other new doctors, Clementine’s called up on the stage to receive her certificate. Dr. Butterfield says a few words about her in front of everyone that she thinks are far too kind and she can’t help but laugh when she hears her whole table cheering as her picture’s being taken. 

“You have a lot of loud supporters,” Dr. Butterfield jokes as he shakes her hand. 

She snickers. “You have no idea.”

“They seem lovely. Keep them close.”

“They are. I will.”

“Enjoy your time off. You deserve it. We’ll see you back at NYU in September.”

Clementine beams. “Thanks Doc. I’m looking forward to it.”

After lunch is over, they go outside and take pictures right by Battery Park, where the lunch was held. Unlike the three brothers, she doesn't complain about the amount of pictures Ellen, Jim and Maeve want to take, just grinning and laughing as Nico pokes her side. They split up to drive back to Nico and Clementine’s in Jersey — Ellen, Jim and Maeve in one car and her, Nico, Quinn, Jack and Luke in the other. Nico is somehow roped into driving and Clementine knows he probably regrets that. You put five 25-31 year olds who see each other simultaneously too little and too much in the same car when there’s an annoying amount of traffic and it’s an interesting ride. 

“Someone must be throwing a party,” Clementine comments as they turn onto the cul de sac, cars lining up the curb. She squints at her and Nico’s driveway at two familiar cars. “What are Dougie and Bratter doing here?” Nico just gives her a shrug. The brothers in the back don’t respond either. “What are you guys not telling me?”

“Chill, Clee,” Jack says. “We have no idea what’s going on either. We’ll find out in two seconds anyways. 

She almost believes him. Instead, she falls in step with Nico, who locks the car. “What’s going on?” She mutters.

Nico just smiles, hand on her lower back naturally. “It’s all good. Just trust me.”

And the thing is, she does. She trusts Nico with her life. 

The second she walks through the door, she jumps as a chorus of “congratulations” echoes through the home. She scans the room quickly. The house is decorated with streamers and balloons, there are food and snacks all over and their home looks so filled. 

Maeve, Ellen and Jim beat them here, all looking very proud. Next to them are Quinn, Jack and Luke with big smiles, next to their significant others — Amelie snapping pictures with her camera, Jordyn leaning back into Luke’s chest, and even Grace is here, Quinn’s arm wrapped around her waist that’s starting to show her small, beautiful baby bump. Grace is supposed to be on tour singing in front of a sold-out crowd in Florida right now.

And then there’s Dougie. And Jesper and Nicole and their toddler son. And Timo and Steph. And Erik and Kristen and their kids. And Seamus. And Jonas. And Ethan. And Nate and Dawson and their significant others. And seemingly almost every other Devils player, most present, some past. And then there’s Trevor, Alex and Cole and Clementine feels like she’s 21 again.

Then there’s her family, blood related and not. Her Uncle Thomas and Aunt Mariana — Thomas is Miguel’s younger brother. Her Aunt Aoife, who was in California literally two days ago. Those are the only blood-related family members who live in the US, and they’re all here. Then there’s Lara and John and Emily, who’s somehow 16 now. Other various members of the Hughes extended family who she’s always loved are dispersed around. 

And then a smattering of her friends from UCLA, Stanford and NYU, all cheering enthusiastically. The ones who made all those years filled with light even in the darkest crevices.

The house is filled with so many people she loves. As she turns back to look at Nico, she feels overwhelmed. “What’s all this?” She chokes out.

“To celebrate you,” Nico says with a twinkle in his eye. 

“His idea, by the way.” Emilia calls out with a grin. Clementine has to laugh. Because of course it is. 

“I love you,” she whispers to Nico, pecking him on the lips. 

“I love you.” He repeats back. “Now go celebrate with everyone.”

And celebrate with everyone she does. As she does that, she can’t help but steal glances at Nico from wherever she is in the room. Because she’s been blessed with having a wonderful support system — the people currently in this house prove that — but there’s never been anyone quite like Nico who just loves her so wholly and wants to celebrate her all the time. 

Later that night, after she bids goodbye and a gracious thank you to Jesper and Nicole, who stayed to help clean up, she lets out a deep breath. It’s just her and her brothers and all the significant others now, Ellen, Jim and Maeve having retired up to bed half an hour ago. She collapses on the couch next to Nico. She stays quiet as she listens to Luke and Grace arguing about something that really reminds Clementine that Grace may be married to Quinn, but Grace met Luke first at a bar in New York years ago and has refused to stop making fun of him since then.

It was just her and the boys for so long. She’s so happy that they’ve all found their own counterparts throughout the years. 

“Thank you for today,” she mutters to Nico. “Seriously. It was…thank you.”

“Of course,” Nico says, his thumb going over the ring on her left hand. “You’re so loved, baby. Any chance to remind you of that is worth it to me.” She just leans up to kiss him. 

“Ew,” Luke says, ruining the moment. Jordyn slaps him for that one. 

Clementine scoffs, “Fuck off. We’re literally getting married next month.”

“Okay and?” Even at 25, Luke is still her annoying little brother. “I know today’s your day and all, but sucking face with my captain is not something I really want to see.”

“Then look away.”

Quinn snorts under his breath. “You guys are impossible.”

“Learn to deal with it, Quinny,” Jack smirks. “You have a child coming soon. If they’re anything like Grace, they’re gonna be fighting you all the time.” 

Grace reaches over her husband and shoves Jack. “Watch it, Hughes. Unless you want your backstage pass taken away when you come to my show in two weeks.”

Jack gasps dramatically. “But I haven’t gotten to see you perform in ages!”

“Exactly. So zip it.”

Amelie makes eye contact with Clementine and Nico with an eye roll. “They exhaust me.” And Clementine has to laugh, because they’ve all made the choice to be exhausted by each other.

Soon after, everyone’s tired out from the day’s festivities and starts heading to their respective rooms for the evening. Clementine trails behind everyone, shutting the lights off and making sure the doors are locked. 

She’s about to shut the light off in the living room when she stops, catching sight of a photo frame hung on the wall opposite the couch. They don’t have many frames hung up around the house, but the photos they do have hung up are important.

She stares at her father’s face. The picture was taken when Clementine was fifteen. The three of them were about to go to Thomas and Mariana’s wedding, Maeve in a long blue dress, Miguel in a dashing suit with a matching blue tie and Clementine in a glittery pink dress. They’re all smiling at the camera in front of a sunset. It’s one of Clementine’s favorites. 

Suddenly, her throat closes up as her father’s voice echoes through her brain. “The universe is gonna give you muchas flores,” he always said. All the flowers, he would say. She thinks he said that on the hospital bed on his last day. She’s long forgiven herself for not remembering every word from that day anymore. 

Nico comes from behind and his hands wrap around her shoulders as she grabs his wrists. She then turns her head to the picture right next to it and smiles. It’s of her and Nico almost two years ago on New Year’s Eve, four hours before Nico would get down on one knee and ask her to spend the rest of their lives together. And then lastly, to the right of that picture, a frame with three pictures in one. Her, Quinn, Jack and Luke all during their respective drafts. The same photoset is hanging in their homes as well. 

She feels Nico kiss the back of her head and she smiles, before turning and heading to bed, Nico’s arm around her shoulder.

long live the walls we crashed through

i had the time of my life with you

[sheeple]

Lady Strong | Part 3

PHOTO NOT MINE. THIS IS ALL FICTION. Genre(s): Strong!reader / Angst? Fandom(s): House of the Dragon (TV series) Pairing(s): Aemond Targaryan x Strong!reader / Jacaerys Velaryon x Strong!reader (platonic/siblings) Summary: It's not easy being a Strong; with a mother who committed suicide, a father who sired three children out of wedlock and then died for it, and a creepy uncle who has nefarious plans for his niece, it's hard to find people who truly mean the best for you. Luckily there are your brothers and your fiance... right? Warning(s): Oof lads this is a sad one / murder / not good anger management / foul words? / It’s eps 10 so hold on lads A/n: Not me trying to make this a two-parter💀 also did I use some input of the comments I got? Who knows🤷🏻‍♀️ [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Part One] [Part Two]

No words leave your lips as you watch the Queen before locking eyes with your family across the table. Jace jumps up from his seat, fuming. You shake your head subtly to make him stop, but it is no use.

"Who has decided this?"

"Jace!", his mother scolds him, a stern look on her face.

Prince Aemond also raises from his seat. "My mother, the Queen, and Lord Strong, Lady Strong's ward."

You turn towards Prince Aemond. Did he know? For how long did he know what your uncle was conspiring? 

You rise from your chair, making both princes look at you. "I must apologise for Prince Jacaerys, my Queen. I'll be a good wife to your son. If I may be excused?"

With one final bow, you walk out of the banquet hall. A heavy feeling slowly grows in your chest. Is this how your mother felt when her engagement was announced to your father? Did they know growing up that they would be engaged, or were they also thrown into the deep?

Once you finally reach your room, you collapse on your bed, laying on the silks as you peer up at the top of the canopy. 

Your peace is soon disturbed by Jace barging into your room and slamming the door. He angrily starts to pace in front of the fireplace, his hands on his waist as he mutters to himself.

"Hello to you too, Jace", you sigh but stay put on the bed. He stops to look at you, huffs a couple of times and continues pacing.

"They can't do this! He's... insufferable! And cruel!"

"Have you even talked to him since Laena Valeryon's funeral?", you challenge him.

Jace stops in his warpath, his silhouette illuminated from behind by the fire but his confused expression is very clear. "Why are you defending him? They're forcing you into this marriage to make you spy on us."

That makes you sit up and raise an eyebrow. "Who said that?"

"Mother for sure will put a stop to this─"

"She won't." You get up from the bed and walk towards him. "Because she ─ like me ─ knows this is the best option. Yes, it is an arranged marriage. But your own got announced too today! It's the same, Jacaerys, and you know it."

That makes him shut up. He swallows and turns his head to the side, looking at nothing in particular. 

"I'm sure he's a good man, Jace." 

Jace gives you a look, and you return it. "How do you know?", he fires back, "you haven't talked to him too since! He could be a rapist for all we know."

"He's not Aegon", you hiss.

"No, we don't need another trying to claim the throne", he hisses back.

"I took a knife for him."

"And one for Luke!"

You shake your head and turn around, massaging your temples as you feel a headache brewing. "Please Jace... can we continue this tomorrow? I already lost my appetite. I don't want to lose my sleep too."

Jace, for once this entire time, get's reasonable and makes to leave my room. "Do you want me to extinguish the fire?", he asks, standing in the doorway.

You shake your head, "I'll do that myself." 

Jace nods and closes the door behind him. As soon as Jace's footsteps are no longer heard, the first vase flies through your room. 

A yell escapes from your lips as you trash the bedroom, taking out your anger on the furniture and decoration. You are so angry it hurts. Deep from within anger burns through your fingertips and out as you throw another candle against a wall. 

Blood spills out of your hands as you watch the fire crackle in the fireplace, your chest raising up and down, straining against your stays.

Your anger soon replaces with sadness. You let yourself drop to the ground, covering your mouth as you sob uncontrollably.

Your father said to always look strong, and be the exact person they expect you to be from your house. Never show weakness in front of the eyes of the court. He knew how ruthless they could be and when shown just one grain of insecurity or weakness, they would latch onto it and tear you apart.

And you've stayed strong, all those years. You've endured being burned, stabbed, sliced, and loneliness at Herrenhal. Never truly feeling at home anywhere. 

Haven't you given enough?

How could they? How could Larys do this to you? You knew that he didn't love you, but selling you off to the one who's vocal about your brothers' true birthright and his wish to maim Lucerys. 

And now you're going to marry that man. Are they going to expect you to switch your loyalties? You've never really cared for Rhaenyra. Feeling indifferent about her was the best option. But your brothers...

You would do anything for them. You know if their mother doesn't become queen, they're going to be killed. And you don't know how you would handle the death of either of them.

Without realizing it, you fall asleep in the middle of the trashed room. Throughout the night, the fire has extinguished itself, the coals still smouldering once you get woken up by a servant. A gasp leaves her lips at the state of the room and of you.

She quickly ushers you into a chair that somehow survived your rampage. She puts some ointment on your hands, binding them before putting you in a beautiful dress.

The Princess and Prince decided to leave the capital to bring their children home before returning to stay with the King.

Luke and Joffrey hug you tearfully, knowing it will be a long time before they see you again. 

Princess Rhaenyra looks at you worried. "Please know that you may not be of my blood, but I consider you to be my daughter. Pay no mind to Lord Vaemond's words."

You send her a small smile. "I know, my Princess. And I am grateful for the kindness you've shown me all these years. Even if I may not have shown it at all times."

She gives you a smile back and caresses your cheek before making room for her eldest son to say goodbye.

Jace's eyes zero in on your bandaged hands and he narrows them, "you have to stop hurting yourself for others. You're not a martyr."

"I do not", you hiss at him silently, making sure nobody sees it.

"Mother has assigned Ser Erryk Cargsyll as your personal guard", he whispers as he hugs you tightly. "She knows something isn't right. Starting with that cunt watching you."

You turn around and see Aemond observing the departure. 

Jace mounts Vermax and holds for one last time your hand before pushing off of the ground, tears in your eyes. You know a storm is brewing between the Greens and the Black, and you're right in between it all.

As soon as the ships leave the port, Aemond makes his way next to you, watching as you wave them off in hope of a good journey.

"I was hoping we could take a stroll through the gardens. Catch up after so many years apart."

What a delight.

You nod and the both of you walk next to each other in silence. He has his hands clasped behind his back while you fiddle with the hems of your sleeves. 

Ser Erryk watches the prince with hawk's eyes as he stands at the entrance of the garden, his hand on his sword in case the Prince dares to do something foolish. But you doubt that.

"Tell me, Lady Strong, what is Harrenhal like?"

You look up at the Prince in search of something on his face. But what? That he's jesting you? For cruelty?

"It's barren after the fire. But it's almost rebuilt. In my honest opinion, it's bland. Most of the heirlooms and the personal belongings of my family have disappeared."

He hums. "And do you miss your mother? I assume you left her behind travelling here."

He- he can't be serious, right? How does he not know?

"She's dead, your Highness."

The Prince stops in his tracks, a few steps behind you. "I apologise, I didn't know. How did she die?"

Well, if he wants the know you, that is a surefire way to do it. "She took her life jumping from the highest tower in Harrenhal when I was still a small child." 

Surprisingly, Prince Aemond reaches for your hands, clasping them in his. A single hand of his dwarfs your own but the two of them engulf yours. 

"You must have been terribly alone, all those years at Harrenhal."

What... is he doing? 

Smiling uncomfortably, you pull your hands away. "I've had my family. It seems like your relationship with the Queen is very close, your Highness."

Smooth, changing the subject.

Aemond nods. "Yes. To be fair, I was never close to my father as a child. He was always busy being king, and turning a blind eye to the antics of his eldest daughter." He glances at you to gauge your reaction. Of course, he would take a dig at the parentage of your brothers. That's how he lost an eye in the first place

Choosing to ignore the comment, you say nothing. It's better to keep quiet than say something you would regret. 

"You've grown wise over the years. And even more beautiful than we were children. The years have done you well."

The comment makes you produce the most unflattering noise a lady can make, at least that is what your septa told you; a snort. 

It makes the Prince smile on his own as he watches you laugh. "Am I not speaking the truth?"

"I would hardly call myself beautiful, my Prince. I've been told that scars can be most unflattering."

"Scars are battles you've fought. Fights you won, and duels you lost. They are something you are to be proud of." He reaches out a hand and touches the scar on your collarbone, just like the day before. Only this time, you don't pull away.

His hand travels down, grabbing your hand. He starts to loosen the bandages and grazes the wounds that you inflicted on yourself. A hiss escapes your lips as it is a sore spot.

As you are fixated on Aemond holding your hand, you don't notice his other one reaching up at your face. He caresses the scar that runs through your top lip. It's the scar you got for him, defending him from the Strong bastards that faithful night. Defending him from your own brothers.

Your breath hitches. His hands are hot, scorching against your skin. The intimate moment lights up a fire within you, low in your belly. A fire you've never felt before. 

The rather intimate moment gets interrupted by a servant fetching the Prince at the request of the Queen. He hums, his eyes still focused on you.

"You've won all your battles, my Lady Strong", he whispers, pulling his hands off of you, but not before rebadging your hand. He presses a kiss on the palm of your hand and goes after the servant.

Your breathing is harsh while your heart runs a thousand miles an hour. What the fuck just happened? Since when is Aemond Targaryen so affectionate? To anyone? Was this whole marriage his doing, and not that of your uncle and the Queen?

Glancing at Erryk, you give him an apologetic look before you make your way out of the garden and towards the library, not knowing what else to do until dinner.

And dinner does not come fast. And it passes slowly. Aemond has asked you to join him in his chambers. You know you can't decline, he's a prince after all. 

Getting into bed quite late and your belly full of good food and Dornish wine, you sleep through the commotion early in the morning.

The King has died.

Only when a servant girl comes to dress you up quickly because your presence is wanted by the Queen, you do notice something's wrong.

Everybody is on edge and looking sombre, their eyes downcast. The banners have changed from their normal red colour to black. 

Once you enter the Queen's quarters, you see her with a distressed look on her face. You curtsey.

"My dear (Y/n). Take a seat."

You cautiously take place next to her on the two-seater, your hands clasped in your lap. 

She sighs once, "now you're betrothed to my son, you're expected to have your alliance with the Greens. Can I count on you?"

The question baffles you. Where your alliance lay was never an issue. Nobody ever expected you to choose a side.

"I... I don't understand, my Queen."

Queen Alicent stands up from the couch, towering over you. "The King has died in his sleep. His dying wish was for Aegon to ascend the throne. He is the true heir."

This makes you stand up yourself. "With all due respect, your Majesty. But Princess Rhaenyra was named heir of the iron throne almost twenty years, and in all those years the King never wavered from his choice to place his oldest daughter as heir."

She turns around with a disappointed look on her face. "Alright. Lock her up and don't let her out before she changes her mind."

Two guards who were stationed at the door grab both an arm and drag you out of the Queen's chambers. You thrash and squirm, anything to get out of their iron-like grip.

You make eye contact with Erryk, in hope that he will save you. But he shakes subtly his head. Like he wants to say not yet.

The guards throw you in your room and lock the door. Screaming and banging on the door until your voice is hoarse does nothing, you've discovered. Trying to pry open the lock also does nothing.

Only after you've given up, the lock rattles and Ser Erryk steps through the door dressed in a black cloak and also holding one. 

"We have to leave, now." He throws the cloak at you and without thinking, you do what he says. He opens a secret passage in a wall and leads you through the inner workings of the castle, sneaking past white cloaks and to the stables.

He pushes a satchel in your hands. You peak inside and it's King Viserys' crown. "Whatever you do, keep it secure. If you follow the winding road to the north, you'll be at Dragonstone in one and a half days through the western shortcut. Ride fast and be safe."

With those words, you depart from King's Landing at full speed on horseback, only stopping at night to rest but further continuing on.

Once Dragonstone finally comes into view, you jump off the horse and run the last few steps up the bridge. What you're met with is a funeral for what looks like a baby.

Trying to control your breathing, you make your way to Princess Rhaenyra, now Queen Rhaenyra. You pull the crown out of the satchel and kneel down, holding the crown up.

"I, Lady (Y/n) Strong, daughter of Harwin Strong of house Strong and Deranna Florent of house Florent, pledge my allegiance to Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, the first of her name, the Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men."

Prince Daemon walks up to you and takes the crown from your hands, studying it. He turns around and places the crown on the rightful Queen's head and kneels down. Soon everybody follows as they pledge their loyalty to the Black Queen.

Soon, everybody makes the council room ready for the first Black Council, Jace pulls you aside into a hug.

"How did you escape? I thought they would surely lock you up."

"They did, but Ser Erryk helped me escape and bring the crown."

Jace lets out a sigh. "Thank the Gods you're safe. I couldn't sleep at the thought of you being with the usurpers."

Smiling at him, you squeeze his hand. "They haven't harmed me. But Queen Alicent made me swear my loyalty to Aegon. I didn't, and that's why they locked me up in my room."

As the council is summoned, Jace and Luke keep you close to them out of protection. Most of the things being discussed, you don't understand, but once they bring up the alliances and Jace says the Queen should send him and Luke. 

Stepping up, you open your mouth. "Please, my Queen, send me with them. I may not be of royal blood, like your sons, but I would like to do my part. If you allow me."

Jace gives you a stern look, obviously not agreeing with you.

Before the Queen can agree or disagree, Luke speaks up. "She can join me, mother. Arrax is big enough for the two of us."

After a moment of thinking, she agrees. Once you receive the letters, you make your way outside. The Queen has borrowed you some of her old dragon riding gear.

Before you depart with Luke, she pulls you aside. "Before you and your father left for Harrenhal, he asked me to look after you if he came to die. I know I haven't always honoured my promise the best I could. Please, be careful out there. I know Alicent has sent her children to get alliances." She gives you a piercing look that makes you nod your head dutifully.

The flight to Storm's End is windy and thunder rumbles in the sky. Once you've arrived, the sharp wind whips through your bones. Luke helps you off Arrax but you stop both in your tracks once you see Vhagar in the distance.

"I am Prince Lucerys Velaryon", begins Luke bravely, stopping in front of the guards. "I bring a message to Lord Borros from the Queen."

The guards nod and turn around, a motion for you to follow them. You grab his hand and squeeze it in reassurance before walking after him in the hall.

Luke approaches Lord Borros, who sits on his throne-like chair at the end of a long hall. Three women stand to the right of him, which you presume are his daughters. To the left stands Aemond, his back turned towards the others as he converses softly with another woman. He glances at the both of you, his eyes keeping trained on you. His jaw is ticked and his single eye is harsh.

A knight announces our arrival as Luke goes to stand in the middle of the hall.

Aemond turns fully, and Luke looks at him almost scared. The white-haired man smirks.

Luke turns back towards the lord on his throne. "Lord Borros... I brought you a message from my mother... the Queen."

Lord Borros does not look amused. "Yet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King. Which is it? King or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it." He laughs, but it's condescending. "What is your mother's message?"

Luke holds out the rolled-up scroll for a guard to take and bring to the Lord. The Lord demands a maester, who reads the written message. He whispers it in the Lord's ear.

The Lord looks pissed. "Remind me of my father's oath? King Aegon at least came with an offer: my sword and banners for a marriage pact. The firstborn of Prince Aemond will marry one of my daughter's descendants. Isn't that right, Lady Strong?"

As suddenly the attention is on you, you still. How dare he, sell my potential babe off to the highest bidder.

"If I do as your mother bids, which one of my daughters will you wed? Boy?"

Without any hesitance, Luke answers, "my lord, I am not free to marry. I'm already betrothed." He looks at Aemond, who still has a smug look on his face. He knows he has won this round.

"So you come with empty hands. Go home, pup. And tell your mother that the Lord of Storm's End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes."

With a raised chin and taking the harsh words of the Lord like a true Prince. "I shall take your answer to the Queen, my lord."

He turns around and looks at your proud face, he subtly grabs your hands in search of a supporting lifeline. He's just a boy, after all.

But Aemond's, "wait, my Lord Strong", makes you both stop in your tracks.

Walking back, you're ready for the conflict to come.

"Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm, trying to steal my brother's throne at no cost?"

Sending a cautious look towards Aemond. "My Prince..."

"I will not fight you. I came as a messenger, not a warrior."

"A fight would be little challenge. No." He reaches up and removes his eyepatch, revealing a sapphire in place of the eyeball he lost. "I want you to put out your eye. That's the least you could do after mutilating me and your sister."

Aemond looks at you now with both of his eyes uncovered, a dangerous gleam in them. This is not the same boy from all those years back you spent in the capital with, who would sit next to you as you both would read. This is not the same man that showed you his tender side in the gardens.

This is a man out for revenge. For blood.

"One is enough. I would not blind you."

"He owes you nothing", you say, standing between Luke and Aemond and pointing the dagger he just threw towards the young prince.

An amused smile grows on his face. "Hm, how brave it is to step in front of your baby brother, Lady Strong. But this is between him and me."

Tightening your grip around the handle, you raise it. "Don't forget, Aemond, I took a blade for you that night. We both are 'mutilated', as you call it. But only one is out for revenge."

As Luke declines behind you, Aemond advances and grabs the hand that holds the blade and holds it up to your neck.

"Than you are craven as well as a traitor, Lord Strong. Give me your eye or your sister dies!", he bellows, pushing the blade so harshly against your skin that it cuts. 

Having enough, you launch your feet backwards and kick him in the nuts. Aemond folds double and you see your escape.

"Luke! Run!", you yell, grabbing his arm and pulling him away.

As you both mouth Arrax, Aemond comes sprinting after you, sword in his hand and rage in his eyes. He himself jumps up on Vhagar.

It has started to storm in the meantime you have been inside, Arrax restless. Luke speaks High Valerian to the dragon before taking off. 

Wrapping your arms tightly around the boy's waist, he looks wildly around him, in search of the large dragon. But it's hard to see anything due to the rain.

Out of nowhere, the largest she-dragon appears, flying above you. She attacks, snapping at the both of you as Aemond's laughter is heard through the clouds. Arrax can barely dodge them. 

A chase starts and Luke sends Arrax down, towards the water. Vhagar is hot on your heels.

Luke sees a cliffside and flies towards it, in the hope of losing Aemond there. It seems to work for a while, as Vhagar is too big for the cracks.

Out of nothing, Arrax turns around and attacks Vhagar. The elder dragon roars angrily, setting in the chase again, this time of her own will.

"The clouds, Luke! Get above the clouds!", you yell, trying to get above the thunder and lightning.

The dragon obeys and you both hold on for dear life as Arrax does his best to gain control over the ancient dragon out to get him.

Finally breaching the clouds, you let out a breath of relief. "Do you see him?"

Luke shakes his head, looking wildly around to spot the dragon. 

Vhagar jumps out of the clouds, her beak open and ready to devour. In his final effort, Luke pushes you off Arrax. As you fall, you watch how Vhagar devours Luke and Arrax, the wings of the beast falling down with you.

You scream, plunging quickly to your death. Arrax's blood hits you in your face as a wing crash against you.

Crashing into the sea, you took your final gasp of air before your lungs fill up with salt water. You try to fight the violent waters, but it was helpless. There was no way you know what is up and what is down.

As you lay helplessly in the last moments of consciousness, accepting your fate, a dark figure enters the water and swims towards you. White hair spread around like a halo, you feel how the person grabs your waist and pulls you up to the surface. Or at least, that is what you think it is doing. For all you care, it could be a siren.

Before your face hits the surface, you close your eyes and let death welcome you.

Taglist: @jeyramarie​ |  @fuckinglittlekitten​ | @neenieweenie​ | @myspotofcraziness​ | @tired-ninfa​ | @yoshiplushie​ | @percyjacksonspeen​ | @lol-im-done​ | @manitskatrina​​ | @myspotofcraziness​​ | @caspianobsessed | @hawsx3 | @green-lxght | @literischdegree99

[pinkslashersimp]

Hi I have a request for NBC Hannibal and Will Graham/ Hannigram x reader! Can you do some headcanons for each of them walking in on a reader in the middle of a breakdown and doing SH? Sorry if that’s a bit much you def don’t need to detail the SH but would love to see what they do to stop the reader and comfort them (I’ve been going through it lately oof lol)

I love lovee all your drabbles and stuff sm if u choose to write this TYSM in advance ahh<33

╰┈➤ Synopsis: Hannibal and Will both comfort you after a ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ breakdown

⠀⠀⠀✎ Notes: Hey anon, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ get to this, as mentioned before on here I’ve just ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ finished my college course and at the time these reqs ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ were sent I was completing assignments and doing ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ my exam^^ I wanted to get as many reqs in my inbox ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ as I could before I closed it and I’m finally getting to ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ them all. thank you so much for your patience (⋆ˆ ³ ˆ) ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ 🩷

⠀⠀⠀ I don’t feel particularly comfortable writing your ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ specific request simply because it could be ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ potentially triggering to others, so I’ve written ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ Hannigram comforting you after you’ve gone through ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ it and are struggling, I hope that is okay<3

⠀⠀⠀ I also want to check that you’re okay and everyone ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ who feels this way is doing okay? I understand this ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ was back in February but as someone who has dealt ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ with SH myself I understand that urges don’t always ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ magically vanish by a wish on a star. If you or anyone ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ else reading this needs professional or immediate ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ help it is there and available to you.

TWS: Mentions of SH and breakdowns.

988 Lifeline

The Samaritans

Find a Helpline

Signs of self harm and getting help

National eating disorders help

Hannibal and Will had both comforted you the best they could after your breakdown. Hannibal had taken care of your wounds and made you some food and a drink, Will sat beside you, twiddling his fingers unsure of how to approach the situation.

Hannibal seated himself on the other side of you, and put his hand on top of yours, will figured he should do the same and he put his arm around you and held you close, they both let you cry it out and encouraged you to eat something, just to get energy back and ensure you were at least taken care of.

Hannibal approaches the situation from a psychiatric point of view. You were sad. No, more than sad, and he had to discover the root of it to ensure the problem was taken care of and to ensure your safety.

He arranges for little sessions in his therapy office, encouraging you to discuss your troubles, mood, and harm. With each session you both get a little closer to understanding a solution, and Hannibal gives you different ways to vent your feelings without causing yourself or others harm.

If need be, he will look into a prescription for you.

Hannibal is also in charge of first aid, bandaging and disinfecting any injuries you have. Stitching too if needs be.

Hannibal will get upset at this, his level of stress varies on how bad it is getting. He doesn’t ever show this as he wishes to avoid upsetting you and causing further breakdowns and self inflicted harm, but you will notice him being much quieter and more stern with you.

Will approaches from a much more nurturing perspective, keeping a watchful eye over you every second he can, doing his best to cook for you and run little errands to make you feel better.

If he notices you looking particularly upset, he removes anything you could potentially hurt yourself with from the room and brings some tissues, he also sits with you and tries to cheer the mood up, either with a joke or by trying to steer the conversation to something you enjoy.

If Will is struggling he will call in Hannibal to help, as he knows Hannibal can read others and manipulate situations far better than he can.

Will gets upset too, but he shows it by telling you that he is hurt. He understands you are hurting too, and approaches the conversation as empathetic as he can, but he wants you to understand that this affects them, too, even if you are the one hurting the most.

He just wants you to know that they are not, and will never be, angry at you.

Anything you could use in the house against yourself has been locked up somewhere you can’t reach, and you are forbidden into the kitchen until they trust you are feeling better and okay.

Hannibal arranges for himself, you, and Will to enjoy trips out together, in hopes it will lift your spirits and take your mind off of anything that is causing unnecessary stress or harmful thoughts.

Hannibal takes you to the theatre, to fancy restaurants, and to garden and art exhibits.

Will on the other hand will take you to the beach, forests, or cheaper restaurants.

You all go on these trips together and, occasionally, they will let you pick the location, allowing you some control.

[explosionshark]

Bri we’re rewatching Buffy 4x15 & 4x16 and realized

Joyce doesn’t live to see Faith get better

The last real time Faith has with Joyce is when she’s in Buffy’s body, and it’s where Joyce insists to Faith that she can’t imagine what happened to make Faith that way. She tells Faith that she doesn’t believe she’s happy. Faith literally hears Joyce say, to her face (well, Buffy’s face) that she hopes Faith gets the help she needs.

Faith literally goes thru all of 15 & 16 then rushes off to the Angel set & goes on a rampage trying to get Angel to kill her. She finally breaks & then has to see Buffy too. Spends all these years in prison. Has to break out to safe Angel. Finally after all those years gets back to Sunnydale. Ends up at Joyce’s house.

Except it NOT Joyce’s house now, it’s Buffy’s house. Joyce is gone and omg the last thing she sees of Faith is her literally at her worst. She never gets to apologize. I’m blowing myself up BRI!

JOYCE TELLS HER TO HER FACE THAT SHE THINKS SHE NEEDS HELP AND DOESNT THINK FAITH LIKES BEING THE WAY SHE IS! FAITH GETS TO SEE THAT SOMEONE GENUINELY DOES NOT HATE HER OR SEE HER AS EVIL OR BAD! EVEN AFTER SHE HELD HER HOSTAGE! AND SHE NEVER GETS TO APOLOGIZE OR MAKE AMENDS OR DO BETTER BY JOYCE. IM SO UPSET

yeah dude......

Look, Faith's relationship with Joyce is a parallel of her relationship to Buffy, in a lot of ways. Joyce represents the life Buffy has that Faith wishes was hers. Their first meeting is that dinner at Buffy's house, it's Joyce sitting across from her and asking about her life, being visibly delighted by her answers. It's Joyce feeding her. The moment Joyce leaves the table, Faith turns to Buffy. "She's really cool, huh?"

It's only like a scene or two later that we get one of Faith's first and only comments about her family. "My dead mother hits harder than that!" after she's hit in the face by a vampire. Oof.

The nice house, the watcher, the mom that cares, the friends - all these things Buffy has, that Faith covets. All things that Faith eventually resents her for.

There's something unhinged and sad and desperate in the way Faith tries to appeal to Joyce, when she's holding her hostage in This Year's Girl. I mean, it's absurd and that typical Faith mixture of hilarious and pathetic, but pleading with Joyce, trying to earn her validation again - "Buffy dumped us." Maybe that scene would have been different, if Joyce agreed, if Faith could have been convinced they were both victims of a similar heartbreak. Probably not. But maybe.

And like you said, what comes after - Joyce's sympathy, her worry, defending Faith after being bound and threatened by her. It throws Faith so badly. It gets in her head.

By season 7, Faith has cultivated a lot of self-awareness and a lot of self restraint. Buffy's life, and Joyce in particular, has always been a sore spot between Buffy and Faith. She would know better than to make this about her.

But it would have to sting, being in that house with an apology in her throat for a woman who's never going to hear it.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Dancing with Visions - Der Lauschaer Galopp - Folk Dance- Bennett

Author Notes: This is the fifth fic for my "Dancing with Visions" series. With the knowledge that Mondstadt was at least partially inspired by Germany, I wanted to use a German folk dance and found this one on Youtube. I am not entirely certain as to whether this dance is wholly German or just Germanic, or as to it's name, although it seems to be called "Der Lauschaer Galopp." A performance can be seen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jNamAy83NBE&list=PLVg_j5iznUjYWnT-fYAHMVVKxIxc0Yfb6&index=43. Just like the rest of this series, reader is female. I hope you enjoy!

If you would like to read more of this series, the fics can be found here: Dancing with Visions Masterlist.

Type: Female Reader/ Dance/ Fluff/ platonic/ sfw

Word Count: 1565

I shifted slightly as I glanced around the crowd, looking for my partner for the upcoming performance I’d agreed to put on for Jean.

We were going to be dancing a folk dance as part of a group at a fair, but my partner had yet to arrive, and I found myself growing ever more nervous. To be fair, it wouldn’t quite be a day without Bennett without at least one thing going wrong, but the idea of that one thing being him not showing up would be too sad.

Especially considering how much effort, bruised toes, and sore muscles both he and I had put into learning the dance we would be doing for this festival.

“Y/N!!” I whirled at the sound of his voice, the skirts of my costume flaring widely with motion as I looked towards where Bennett came running down the street. His vest wholly unbuttoned open and flapping in the breeze as he tripped and landed squarely on his face with an ‘oof’ that had me running over.

“Bennett! Are you alright?!” I knelt in front of the young man worriedly, only for him to look up at me with a wide grin.

“Yeah, I’m just glad I made it on time! My dads are going to be watching,” He scrambled to his feet as he spoke, hand finding mine before starting off a trot once more and pulling me with him. Both of us hurrying to reach the stage in time to appear in front of the crowd at the same time as the other performers.

We trotted across the stage, Bennett tripping in the process and earning a few chuckles from the audience as we took our places with the other dancers. 

Looking out across the crowd, I could see a mixture of familiar faces and less familiar ones. The Knights of Favonius were here, of course, since they were hosting this entire thing, but so were several people from the Adventurer’s Guild, Dawn Winery, and elsewhere. All of them watching us with fond smiles on their faces as we got ready.

The music began, half startling me into motion as all of us began our steady, trotting motions interspersed with careful hops so that we all landed at the same time and the sound of our feet hitting the solid wood rang out. Almost like it was a part of the music that we danced too.

The men were all an inner ring, with the women surrounding them as an outer ring.

 In truth, this dance wasn’t a proper galop and could better be described as a folk dance, but it was danced to the tune of a galop. 

It had always been referred to as Der Lauschaer Galopp, but whether or not that was the actual name of this dance, I’d never known. All I did know was that it was an incredibly fast-paced dance that was surprisingly difficult for something described as a folk dance of old.

Without even making a full circuit around the stage, the partners met and switched places with an easy spin. And after just a few more steps, the two rings met once more before all of the couples entered closed hold. Trotting around the circle in the manner that gave the galop its name,laughter already began to bubble up among the dancers.

Bennett, for his part, was counting under his breath and glancing between my face and his feet with flashes of a smile before his eyes would fall once more to his feet and concentration would crease his brow.

But we’d struggled up until our very last practice with timing our galop, which was interspersed with pauses when he would raise his arm and allow me to dance around him before being twirled, and the circuit continued.

And we were surrounded by couples who’d known this dance for quite some time and were even the ones who taught us. Huffman and numerous other members of the Knights of Favonius danced with us, making us the couple who were the least experienced.

That said though, Bennett gave his best as we switched to our sideways steps, where we stood hand in hand facing the crowd and moved from left to right before he would let go of my hand so that I could twirl freely as he walked around me, clapping his hands to the racing beat of the song.

I found myself laughing slightly as he turned to face me and danced carefully, rocking back and forth before he picked me up over his head, holding me only by my waist, as he swung me first to the left and then to the right. 

I tensed briefly as he stumbled before quickly setting me back down and flashing me a nervous smile. But that was a mistake we’d already made several times during practice, and it always ended with us landing in a mangled pile of limbs with Bennett frantically asking me if I was alright as our horde of teachers would rush over. 

But I’d never actually gotten really hurt. Even for all of his clumsiness and well-known streak of bad luck, Bennett always managed to ensure that when we did fall or collide, he took the brunt of the hit.

Our music paused, giving us mere seconds to return to our galloping circuit as our entire group trotted across the stage in a wide circle. But this time without holding hands.

In fact, Bennett only had one hand resting on my waist, and I had one on his back. Our other hands, which would usually be interlocked, were instead outstretched as if we were showing our audience the direction our circuit would be moving in.

After making one revolution, we separated once more, now forming groups of three that trotted sideways across the stage. And inevitably, just as it had happened each time in practice, this was when grins started creeping onto everyone’s faces as we did our best to not stumble over each other and keep with the unerringly peppy song.

I could see Barbara in the crowd, next to Jean, already clapping along as we formed longer lines that switched from the forefront of the stage to the backwards section.

Both me and Bennett stumbled at almost the exact same moment but managed to stay upright as we kept going, making eye contact and grinning as we did our best to keep up the dance that was at long last at its halfway point.

But things were fixing to get hard on the guys; that was something both he and I both knew as we reentered our separate rings of men and women to spiral once more. 

We rejoined briefly, with me grasping his elbow and spinning while holding onto him; before we stopped to watch Huffman, Donna, Porthos, and Margaret take center stage. 

The two women were smiling giddily as the group formed a small ring, their arms locking together as they started spinning. And we all watched, clapping along and laughing as the women slowly lifted off the ground, swinging out from the momentum as the two men kept spinning.

After a brief moment, they slowed, and I was turning to Bennett, nodding at him and praying he was ready as I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck and he grabbed my waist. Holding it carefully as he began spinning before slowly and timidly releasing so that we were spinning, with my legs swung out behind me where I’d attained lift off and he was no longer holding me.

A part of me wanted to cheer at our hard-won success after numerous trials that ended in him falling backwards and me landing on him with both of us laughing.

The crowd cheered even as we slowed, and I touched back down. But I wasn't meant to remain grounded, and none of the other women were either. Instead, couples began to start meeting up. Creating groups of four in a line with our arms clasped over one another’s shoulders. The women on the outside and the men in the middle as we all began trotting in a circle, gradually speeding up until the women, myself included, were able to curl up our legs and swing out to the side as the men kept spinning.

Both me and Margaret were grinning like fiends as the crowd applauded, even though I also knew that both of us couldn’t help but feel bad for Huffman and Bennett as they propelled us along.

After what felt like a few seconds, we touched down once more and resumed closed hold with our partners. 

I eyed Bennett worriedly, but he only nodded with a bright grin, proof of his incredible toughness that he’d honed through years of bad luck.

We took off in our galop once more, stumbling at the start but making it safely into the final circuit as applause rang out from the crowd, accompanied by piercing whistles and loud cheers. 

The dance at long last came to an end with each couple practically hugging each other and spinning together before breaking out to beam out at our audience, who cheered wildly. And as soon as it was over, me and Bennett were both laughing.

Half-stunned that we’d successfully complete the performance without any tumbles and still giddy from swinging around at such an incredible pace.

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[bengiyo]

Marahuyo Project Eps 3 & 4 Stray Thoughts

Last time, we met King, our out queer activist, whose family moved him to Marahuyo after he was expelled from his high school for making out with his friend and then knocking down the dean. Here, on an island with only 12 hours of electricity a day, King finds himself with little queer community and so decides to build it himself. He bonded with Venice, a trans girl in his class, to build an LGBTQIA+ organization in their school. Unfortunately, he must get the approval of the student council president and then the board. King believes the president is his enemy, but it’s clear these two are vibing. We’re also detecting queers all over the place, particularly Lorena and Lili. I’m having a blast to finally be back in the Philippines and to have a show not in the bubble.

Episode 3: Sidapa At Bulan

I’m getting really sad for Ino. I grew up in a city, and so as I started to figure out myself I was able to go online and express that. All he can do is write his letters to the cosmos and the gods and leave them on a rotting boat.

I am so happy for Venice that she has a friend. She’s clearly resurging out of her shell.

OOF, this eye contact scene.

Wow, Lili is smart enough to make sure they’re actually alone in the bathroom before having a serious conversation.

That’s right, Lorena, you take the time to figure out what queerness means to you.

Omg are we faking distress now??

CPR could actually break his ribs, so this is probably a terrible idea.

I’m glad they didn’t touch lips like this.

Okay, that tongue in cheek moment was something else. Holy shit.

I’m a fan of the plan to write letters back to Ino!

I bet it was Ino who vandalized the mural. This mermaid thing is too specific to the people of Marahuyo.

Marco, STFU. This is not about you! Lorena is standing up for her friend! FFS!

I always feel so much for people like Lorie in the community. Lorie never intended to come out, but she did to protect someone else in her community with a show of solidarity. I also came out because I didn’t want to hurt a woman I admired and respected a lot.

Archie and Venice were definitely close before. He knows way too much about her, and is constantly trying to protect her.

I do love how plain the politics of this show are. Drawing the comparison of people wanting to defend Ino’s family and reputation with the lack of defense for King and his friends is a strong note. It’s especially potent because Ino seems to have serious angst about his family’s reputation.

I love the notes exchange. Ino is smart, and definitely suspects that he’s actually writing to King. This is such a great way for him to work up his courage and comfort.

Episode 4: Santelmo

Wow. Cutting his hair while King was asleep is so, so violent.

King, please do not embarrass yourself IN A BARBERSHOP!

The barber may have done a good job with the haircut, but I’m still mad about his mom cutting his hair.

King is correct. Ino is way more attractive when he’s experiencing joy or amusement.

I love Venice. She came over to call out King on his bullshit and then immediately started teasing.

It’s 2024! We all verse now!

Okay, Lorie, that’s so difficult. I had wondered about her reactions whenever her dad came up in discussion.

Oh no. Does Venice know who died by the beach in the Santelmo story?

Oh ho, we’re sitting on a log on the beach and talking about love. I really love the way Adrian turns to the camera as King.

I actually love that King as a character is jaded about love. He’s not building an organization because he’s looking to smash or for love. He’s building it because he believes in community for people like him.

That being said, he’s so ridiculous about Ino.

COUPLE KEY CHAINS ALREADY??

Do we have any fans from the Philippines watching on Tumblr? I’d like some additional linguistic context about the ‘mermaid’ term. Getting the sense that Ino’s dad left for a queer relationship.

King’s shirt looks even gayer during this splashing scene.

They let these boys ride the bike themselves at night? Brave choices from this production team.

Wow, an even gayer crop top.

This grief scene was devastating.

Archie, dude, you’re killing me. You lost one trans friend. Why shove the other away like this?

Yeah, the mom basically just told Ino, “Don’t be gay.”

Um, I’m really fucking nervous about someone approaching the boat with a fucking torch.

I am absolutely in love with this show. I love that for all the posturing that there’s no queerness on Marahuyo, we now know of multiple characters who are either queer or closely related to queer people. It’s been so long since we’ve seen a show where the characters have expressed their feelings for each other in roundabout ways but won’t say it openly, and that not feel like shit. Everyone who’s seen them together can see what’s happening. I’m so nervous for Ino. I love that King is being patient with him without diminishing himself or his goals. I’m going to be thinking about Lorie abandoning the safety of heteronormativity and the closet to stand beside other queers, and also about Venice having to constantly defend hers and Christina’s names to their former best friend.

[rindouheart]

Ok- I saw your stuff and I couldn’t believe you only had three things hshsjjdb

Do you mind an enemies to lovers type thing with pink haired sonic and the hedgehog dude? (Aka. Chigiri and Barou lmao) The reason they beef can be anything you want-

If you’re taking anons- I wanna be 👺 anon pls and ty, it’s ok if you aren’t too lol

CHIGIRI and BAROU + enemies to lovers!

content. just them arguing with the reader (slight sad in chigiri’s part) + gender neutral pronouns used | small scenarios + some hcs

author’s note. hi babe! I’d love to have an anon! believe it or not, but in like 3 years on tumblr no one has ever asked it to me <3 however, i hope you like these headcanons!

(i made them extra long to excuse myself for the long waiting, please forgive me :( )

CHIGIRI HYOMA

you were friends at first, but then the whole injury thing happened.

“why would you give up? a lot of famous players have had injuries in the past, but they still managed to come back! why would you throw your dream in the trash bin like that?”

“you’ve never understood me, then”

after expressing your opinion on why he shouldn’t give up on his dream while he can still play, you started arguing for everything.

it was heartbreaking to see: you, his best friend since childhood, being treated like a complete stranger.

even more heartbreaking was the fact that you liked him and you couldn’t stand the way he was giving up on his lifetime dream.

chigiri absolutely hates you when you’re right.

you started to avoid him and he started to avoid you. it was a mutual thing.

he actually hoped for you to come back, because he realised he acted like a baby.

however, he hasn’t even seen you for months.

chigiri fucked up, completely.

you meet again at a café (unplanned, you’re still not sure how to behave towards him)

“oh, y/n, hi” he mutters with his coffee in hand.

“what do you want?” it wasn’t supposed to come off that harsh, however, chigiri’s face changes expression.

“nothing” he wants to slap himself.

“do you have a minute?” you ask, sitting at a table in the corner “we have to talk and you know what i’m about to say, i guess”

he sits down and huffs.

“i’m kinda tired. we were best friends before the injury thing, and now we look like we spoke once in our lives” you say, keeping your voice as low as possible “your behaviour is annoying”

he knows you’re right, so he just murmurs a “i’m sorry”

you keep up talking “i was really upset when you told me those horrible things. i felt betrayed”

chigiri wasn’t expecting it to be this bad. he totally fucked up.

“I’ll get straight to the point, i had and probably still have feelings for you, but i don’t know if i should follow my heart or my brain right now, because you acted like a bitch with me”

oof, OOF.

“i am very sorry, y/n. i don’t know what i was thinking when i said that. i was too scared of hurting myself again and i almost gave up on my dream. it was stupid, i know you were right, but i didn’t want to accept it”

you breathe in deeply. “i accept your excuses, i’m sorry too. i shouldn’t have pushed that conversation that far”

“but you were right. during my time in blue lock, one of my friends told me the same things you told me back then. i realised that i was the one at fault.”

you nod “i’m happy you will continue to follow your dream. i’m sure you’ll be successful”

chigiri gives you a soft smile, making your heart melt.

“so we’re friends again” you say.

“actually… staying without you all this time was hard” he confesses.

“so you’re asking me…”

“yes, i’m asking that”

he laughs when he sees you blushing.

“i have a couple of days off, what do you think about going on a serious date before i go back to blue lock?”

“i’d love that”

BAROU SHOEI

this bitch

when he accepted to move into a new apartment for university he was prepared for anything, he thought.

you’re his polar opposite: messy, loud, extrovert, creative. the living copy of phoebe buffay.

“why are your clothes on my side of the room? is it that difficult to put your things in your side?” and he points the coloured tape that divides the floor in two halves.

(it was your idea to put it down, so he wouldn’t argue with you)

“the space on my floor was finished, i took a bit of yours”

this man is about to jump from the window.

you actually find his exaggerate reactions absolutely funny.

you leave your stuff around the house on purpose, just to see him getting mad.

barou, in reality, loves cleaning, so he is actually satisfied when everything is back to its place.

however, he is quite unreadable, and you think he hates you for the mess you always leave inside the apartment.

suddenly, one of your friends asks if you want a room near your university.

obviously, living closer to your department is better than living where you’re now, since public transport is often crowded or late.

when you leave he’s in paradise.

or at least he thought.

despite the first few days, barou actually misses your mess.

his days are pretty empty without picking up your stuff and cleaning your shared room.

he thought he hated you for that, but he loved cleaning your bedroom.

and that’s why he calls you after a couple of weeks “can you come back, please?”

you’re astonished. why would he want you to move back to his apartment? is he the same person that got mad every time you left something out of place?

“why?”

“well… I…”

is the king barou admitting his feelings?!

he misses you a lot.

“i miss your mess, now i’m always bored after studying, i have nothing to clean up”

“wait” you say, trying to connect the dots “i thought you hated me for my messiness?”

“i thought i hated you too”

“thanks?? how should i answer to that?”

“with a <<yes, I’ll move back to your apartment>>” he laughs

“okay then”

HE DID IT!

now you’re back in the same flat!

for now, he isn’t going to tell you that he appreciates your presence this much, but i can confirm that he’s down bad.

“you’re the only person whose mess isn’t a problem for me”

he might be a king on the football field, but we still need to work on love declarations.

@rindouheart ‘s headcanons — 02192023

[darcyolsson]

in what i hope is not in a patronising or parasocial way, i’m so sorry about your health stuff and i hope that it gets a bit better, or even that you have a little more time to rest as it’s all going on <33. also been kinda going through it, health-wise, for the last two years, and yeah… the feelings that come along with it all are usually a whole Lot, and i wouldn’t wish them on anyone. also finishing school this year, and i’ll probably also take a gap year before uni to figure all of this out, so i relate… not trying to overshare in your askbox oof, i just wanted to say that i get it and i hope that you’re doing ok, and being gentle with yourself <3

thank you i'm both sad and glad you get it :') ive been struggling with my health for about 4 years now but it was supposed to be somewhat stable so it's been really disorienting that everything's taken a turn for the worse now, and obviously that comes with a lot of feelings. it's so weird to be young and have to sit out on a part of life where it seems your friends can just do anything they want all the time, it kind of feels like i am mourning a version of myself that could have been, if that makes sense.

take the gap year if you feel like it might help! i've found it's good to keep busy but it's so important to only do that if you can pace yourself. i dont regret starting my degree despite being sick because it kept me on my feet but there were also so many moments where i wish i would have listened to my body better and taken things slower. whatever you decide, i wish you loads of good luck! and if you ever want to talk about it, i'm here, i know how isolating of an experience it is. <3

[abalovesfic]

Gonna talk more about The Book of Bill in this Ask. As well as ur answer to my 1st Ask:

"1. Preorders start today actually!!!!! It’s a really great zine and I’m excited to have been a part of it."

Nice!

"2. I do plan on finishing at least The Helpful Lie, I think I owe the fic that much and I have so much of it mapped out. That being said…"

I really do hope u will at least finish this fic someday. As well as Illumine and Cosmic Twins. And etc. I love these TAU fics dearly after all. However, I can wait. I have waited years for more of something, and I can take a long to post and stuff myself. And I can do the same with these things.

"3. Spending time in the Psych fandom has been so rewarding. This was the right time for me to transition into something else. I’m gonna put this vaguely for privacy’s sake— I needed a new fandom if I was going to engage healthily again. And honestly, I think in 7 months Psych has given me more support and community than 12 years in Gravity Falls ever did. (But that’s luck, considering I went to Psych con and met the people who live in my phone.) (And probably also demographics.)"

I am sad u feel like the GF community couldn't always give u the stuff that the Psych community did. I have had great times in the GF fandom(s) myself personally. Saying that, I am happy Psych and it's community is is making u happy right now.

"4. Obvi Gravity Falls and TAU are still the loves of my life and rn there’s this beautiful meld of Psych and Gravity Falls coexisting in my brain. Book of Bill was great and it reinvigorated something in me. So yes, I’ll come back eventually and write more but for now, I’m invested in my little queer detectives"

And I hope to see u and I am excited to see u come back more in/to the GF and/or TAU fandom(s) someday (like new chapters and/or fics. Etc.), but like I said, I am happy you are having fun with Psych right now. And/or having fun with a blend of Psych and Gravity Falls in ur mind.

Also, "Book of Bill was great and it reinvigorated something in me",

Cool!

Gonna talk more about this, but I will save that for it's separate Ask.

Thank you for ur Answer to my previous Ask.

:)

1/?.

Oof. Uhhhhhhhh.

I think it’s just the helpful lie I’ll be finishing. (Maybe cosmic twins.) I can’t go back to Illumine. I do not like to contradict canon and though I didn’t know Book of Bill would be a thing a the time, I still don’t like that my story arc was off and the fic is too far gone to change anything. I won’t delete it but I’m not finishing it.

I love the game of canon too much. I like having to work within its confines even if I���m going off the rails with an AU. It challenges me as a writer. So Illumine has lost its appeal, but The Helpful Lie has certainly gained some. I have thoughts about my dumb triangle son…

And ok ok… it’s not that Gravity Falls/ Tau wasn’t a great fandom with tons of love and support. It is! And forgive me if this gets TMI. But I felt like I would never be good enough for this fandom. All of my fic, cosplay the freaking fanzine I started, my whole thesis, every single academic conference I went to specifically to talk about the show, all of the work I put into to Gravity Falls: I was essentially destroying myself for a fandom that wouldn’t love me back with the same passion. I still LOVE Gravity Falls with my whole heart and soul. But that burnout still hurt me.

So this step back has been good.

And Psych is oddly different. I think the fandom is old enough now to be kind of its own thing— but going to Psych con was the eye opener. I was worried about being the new kid on the block in this fandom from 2006. But complete strangers have shown up for me, tried to help push my academic career by promoting my writing and trying to get me celebrity interviews (which didn’t work out but damn— I’ve never had folks do me those favors before just because they want me to succeed), among other things. It changed my perspective a lot to have total strangers hug me and tell me I had done so much.

That was very ranty and emotional because I’m super sleep deprived (Bill my son please hop into my brain and joy ride me around, leaving me to wake up in a Taco Bell and with half a chalupa. This flesh puppet is ripe for the takin’). But things have been good different in this new corner of the internet. And when I’m ready I’m gonna finish the helpful lie so that I can feel good about it and not like I’m jumping through hoops.

Oh and the blending in my brain looks like memes

[revserrayyu]

2.3 Penacony thoughts [part 4]

***SPOILER WARNING*** for the ending of the 2.3 story update for everything after the Charmony Festival. This should be the last part of the story so if you haven’t finished it for yourself yet, please do return once you have.

Despite the dreammaster “forcing” Acheron out of Penacony, I was still patiently for her to show up at some point during the festival. While she didn’t make a guest appearance upon the grand ship in the sky, she did manage to get a whole scene to herself, but unfortunately, it starts right at the gravesite and I already know I’m in for an emotional ride..

I’m so happy that out of all the experiences and people she may have forgotten about, that Acheron remembers Tiernan so clearly and delivered flowers like he originally wanted: 

“What I do know is that one day, I too will pass away, and when I bid farewell to this world… Someone will stand at my grave and place a bouquet of flowers on it.” 

Also, we might not presently know who voices Tiernan, but props to them because they were a joy to listen to in the previous few patches.

I’m glad someone is smiling because I sure as fudge ain’t.

We haven’t even met these trailblazers personally and most likely never will, but to still get emotional for them despite that is truly an amazing feeling, even if it’s a highly upsetting one. You can really feel the respect the crew has for all three of them.

It’s hard for me to grasp that Gallagher “died” as well, considering he wasn’t truly alive? I don’t know what to feel for him, honestly. I kinda enjoyed that twist at the end of 2.1 where we were lead to think he was a villain, but then 2.2 happened and tossed that idea aside. I’m at least glad March and I shared the same wondering mind about what he meant by saying he was only 13. I know people have theorized it to mean he’s “death” as that number of a tarot card, but a confirmation would’ve been nice.

It was at this moment where I started to realize that each one of our faithful cremates were taking turns saying goodbye to everyone, so leaving Himeko last to speak with Mikhail was perfect.

Our lovely navigator begins with “This entire adventure started because of you, and should naturally end with you.”  Oof, talk about going full circle. That’s beautiful.

I can’t really put into words what about this moment with March made me feel. I’m certain it was also due to whatever sad, slow music was playing in the background at this point of the story too, but even I started feeling this sort of strange regret. Their lives had to be so similar as they trailblazed through space, experiencing all kinds of people, places and feelings, and you would hope and pray their lives had a good ending, but you could never be sure, so this lingering sort of emptiness fills up inside you as your words of wonder and thanks fall of deaf ears.

Man.. no matter how often I hear it, but knowing that our lives are indeed short lived compared to all the time in the world will never be easy for me to accept. I can’t even begin to tell you how frequently people tell me I’m still young and capable of doing so much with my life but knowing deep down that so much time has already passed and I had missed so many opportunities to enjoy what I have, create everlasting memories and experience a life I’d be proud of living. Even now I’m sitting here wondering if this life has been worth it and if I’ve ever been truly happy with everything that’s going on or simply finding sporadic moments of peace where I’m content enough to embrace that one feeling and ignore everything else to fool myself in thinking I’m fine with it all. Sorry, I’m delving far too deep into my own mind with this.

Seriously, we need some good jokes right about now. Get to work, Dan Heng! Why March decided to ask him instead of grandpa Welt I’ll never understand, but his dry humor is certainly great.

All those trailers, cutscenes and memorable moments.. and we’re still learning more about this woman. I truly love how deep her character is. They did a lovely job with her.

I swear if we don’t meet Acheron again at all during the rest of our journey on this sparkling silver star rail I will be heartbroken. She’s too good to simply forget!

You know a conversation is serious when we’re the ones speaking in red text! 

I’m personally lying here, by the way. I’ve never played Impact or Genshin long enough to encounter any of the other Raiden Mei lookalikes, but who cares! She shall never know! (nor will she even remember *sob*)

I believe that deja vu is such a wild feeling, to experience a scenario that seems so familiar to a moment in your past is crazy. I dunno how it is for everyone, but whenever I feel it, I always wonder if what I’m feeling in this moment is a sort of warning from my past telling me that there’s something strange or memorable about the present moment in time. I dunno how to explain it, but if our mind has to remind us that a specific moment like this has happened already, then surely it would have to be for a good reason or important in some way, right? It’s interesting to think about anyways.

Okay now, this scene.. this gorgeous image that I had to no doubt choose for the cover photo is fantastic. She’s beautiful and that gentle smile on her face makes you feel so safe and thankful that you embarked on this journey. At least, that’s what I’m personally feeling. That sense of deja vu is also coming back to me here, but I believe it’s solely because of certain words she’s speaking and Allegra’s tone of voice with them that make this all feel so familiar to me.

She continues on to say “All those things, beautiful before, are still so now. And I believe… It will still bloom at the end of Nihility, until we meet again beneath the sun’s rays,” and y’all I wanna cry with how beautiful this entire moment is. Look at our girl! Aaaahh.. I seriously don’t wanna say goodbye to her! Everything with the previous trailblazers was upsetting, of course, but saying our farewell to Acheron, someone who has been at our side (sorta kinda) since the beginning of our Penacony journey and stayed close assisting us with all the dangers we faced up until this moment.. oohh my heart hurts. It may be because I experienced these updates as they released, thus spanning over several months of time, so it feels as if Acheron has been in my life longer compared to those I met during both Belobog and Luofu stories as I zoomed through them without pause since I started playing towards the end of 1.4 and therefore didn’t have to wait for updates, but yeah. Wonderful character. Allegra deserves the upmost praise with her performance and I seriously need to pull for her next time.

Ah, you can always count on the Express family to lighten up the mood just a little bit.. just not too much since Pom-Pom is literally sobbing upon learning the status of their dearly departed friends.

Hey, it’s not our fault chaos just so happens to follow us around everywhere like we’re some kind of protagonist in a well written, engaging and exciting story! 

Nothing makes me happier when we’re given the option to can crack a couple jokes during a serious conversation.

Once again, I’m not even gonna question how or why she’s here. At this point, Black Swan seems like the perfect plot convenience that needs no explanation. 

“Charming little dragon” indeed.

Our next stop I assume? And how shall we get there if it’s “hidden away” and “only revealed by the light from the mirror of the Garden of Recollection?” Surely Black Swan would assist us, yes? At least I hope so, if it’ll mean she’s still around for a bit longer. She also mentions it’s a world “fettered by three paths” and I’m curious are to which three she’s referring to.

As per usual with ending scenes, 2.3 gives us one more surprise that also leaves me with many questions because what on earth is happening here and why and how?

Apparently this is a hard place to get into.. and yet here Jade is. She comes on the behalf of Robin’s wishes, which I pretty much assumed it would’ve been saving Sunday’s life, but the one who has to pay the heavy price is not Robin, but Sunday himself? That is if I’m understanding what’s happening here correctly. Instead of ranting about being equal to a god, he has to live as a normal citizen? It seems fine enough to us, but for him it’s probably out of his mind to even consider acting in such a way, even denying her “charity” at first.

As we learned, Jade is a very patient woman so she doesn’t expect an answer right away. She then instead leaves some parting words in the form of a warning “from someone who’s been in your shoes before” and judging by all the chains, I can’t help but think of Aventurine when she gives the following advice:

And with that.. 2.3 is finished. I know there’s a handful of side quests to do now and perhaps they might fill in some random questions I have about this entire story, but presently, I’ll say Penacony was at least a very enjoyable yet wild ride. There were many times were I was so lost in what was happening and I feel like there were too many characters, motives and ideals to keep track of, yet on the flip side there were other characters we didn’t get much information about at all and were just kinda there. Penacony did have a fantastic vibe though from all the great music, challenging bosses, and an endless amount of memorable moments whether they were emotional, jaw dropping or straight up hilarious. Was it truly “heartwarming and wholesome” like they said? Perhaps a little bit, but it was truly an exciting experience and well worth the wait and hype. Is it my favorite story arc so far? Hhmm, debatable. I still have very strong feelings for Belobog.. so that's probably it.