#posting this in the dead of night to avoid scrutiny

[beloveds-embrace]

duke au angst, but könig isn’t a knight. He’s either not in it and reader just sinks into a pit of depression and withdrawals so much that rumours start speculation around the ton that reader is either dead or murder and it starts to take a toll on john reputation (they start going after why him, simon, johnny and kyle are so close) or a könig is an Austrian duke/way closer to royalty and when he’s over for business with John and/or simon, he and the reader hit it off (much to the boys dismay) and reader plans on leaving without a word, leaving nothing more than a vague letter that details why and a set of divorce papers (helped achieved by könig) and by the time they realise their mistake readers already living the high life in austria

….okay but the first one’s got me downright obsessed, anon 😩 second one too and i feel like i will absolutely end up caving and writing it later but for now, have this!

Angst dukedom post

Non-angst dukedome post(no konig in this one)

No but seriously, there is only so much you can take. Between everyone’s dismissal of you, the lack of any meaningful company, the loneliness- it was only a matter of time before you just… can’t do it anymore.

The change, though it starts slow, is impossible to hide. You stop having dinner with John, finding no solace in the taste of lukewarm, half-heartedly prepared food. You tell yourself it’s not worth it- the stilted conversations, the empty looks, the way his eyes always drift to anything but you. He’s too busy sharing hidden glances with Kyle, exchanging quiet touches with Johnny when he hand delivers the food, speaking to Simon with an intensity that has never been for you.

You stop attending the endless galas and balls you are meant expected to attend as the Duchess. You withdraw from the tea parties, from every suffocating event where you were paraded as nothing more than an ornament on Duke Price’s arm. You withdraw from the public eye itself.

Instead, you drift through the duchy, through the rooms that are suddenly empty when you arrive. You drift to and fro, in a haze of lonelinthat and slow-setting exhaustion.

The maids whispered of you before, but it used to be out of your earshot; now, you can hear them clearly, none of them afraid of being punished when not even your own husband can stand your sight. They mutter about how sickly you look, how your eyes are dull and lifeless.

She’s wasting away.

Maybe it’s for the best.

No one can love someone who fades into the walls.

But of course, the whispers aren’t just within the duchy. Rumors ripple out beyond the duchy’s walls-

The Duchess has gone mad, they say. Locked away by her husband, for her own good.

She ran away in the dead of night, they say. Couldn’t bear her husband’s coldness. Maybe he drove her to it.

He’s always with Duke Riley, isn’t he? Or the butler. Or the chef.

Poor thing. No wonder she vanished.

All of it gnaws and bites at John’s reputation, at yours, but he never comes to you and it doesn’t surprise you at all. He would rather find a way to bury it all then simply check on you. The facade has always been more important, and he keeps it with half-hearted excuses half-believed by some and dismissed by others.

But they are relentless, and soon they taint every interaction he has. No one meets him without a hint of suspicion in their eyes. How much of it is true, they seem to ask. What did you do to her? Is she really gone? She was a good woman, how could you do that to her? There is more scrutiny now on the time he spends with Simon, with Kyle, with Johnny. He starts to avoid public events himself, unwilling to face the relentless gossip that hangs over him now like a dark cloud.

Eventually, you stop dressing for the day, leaving your hair unkempt, your gowns crumpled and out of style. No one comes to check on you, the maids happy at having less work, and you tell yourself that you prefer it that way. No eyes to judge. No lips to lie. The solitude is nothing new, even if it’s never been this severe before.

Time blurs, too. You stop looking at the newspapers when they stop being delivered. The days mean nothing when every morning brings only a new kind of numbness, and some days you spend entirely in bed, too tired to even think about taking a step outside.

Yet, even with your noticeable absence, nothing changes. No one knocks on your door, not even once. No one checks to see if you’re eating, breathing, surviving. You feel so achingly lonely.

John doesn’t approach you once. You have become a specter, more distant than ever. And though he and the others feel a creeping sense of guilt- Kyle finds himself lingering outside your door, only to turn away with clenched fists; Johnny’s jokes die in his throat when he hears your name; Simon stares at the spot you used to take during the dinners and lunches he’d join; John stares at the very few portraits of you that line the walls and wonders how he’d even go about approaching you- none of them move to truly mend the gaping distance between you. They regret their neglect, but they do not know how to fix it. Or maybe they are simply too late.

dukedom au masterlist Part Two: Fix-it

[onlybeeewrites]

Easy to Blame

Request: Darling....can I request a fic of xaden ....where the reader is her sister and he and other marked ones don't like her due to some reason...but then she's a goddamn badass and yeah make it angsty as hell(I don't know if this makes sense)

Pairings: Xaden Riorson x sister!reader, Marked ones x Reader, sort of Sawyer x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: IRON FLAME SPOILERS, cannon accurate violence, targeted hated, cursing, life threats, past deaths, misdirected hatred and grief, bad parenting.

A/N: This is where my mind went with this request! Hopefully you all enjoy it ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~

The weight of the guilt clung to you like a second skin, thick and suffocating. A burden and weight that seems to be placed rather unfairly onto your shoulders. As each and every step through the halls of Basgiath War College was met with narrowed eyes, cold glares, and the ever-present whispers that followed like a specter.

It didn’t matter who you passed in the halls. It didn’t matter when. Didn’t matter who you sat with in class or in the dining hall. The other cadets in your year would see the swirling dark tattoo on your left arm and lift their noses at you. While other marked ones would do the very same thing.

They didn’t trust you.

No one trusted you.

He didn’t trust you.

Xaden Riorson had made sure of that.

Your older brother—the only family you had left—had turned his back on you the moment you arrived at the college when you were old enough. His expression carved from stone, his voice sharp enough to cut. You had known it would be difficult. You had expected anger, the frustration, even the resentment.

But this? This was something worse.

You wasn’t just unwanted. You were avoided. You were the enemy. To everyone.

“Stay the hell out of my way.”

His voice was ice, cutting through the tension between them like a blade. And cut through you like shards.

You had found him in the training yard, surrounded by the Marked Ones in his squad, his second-in-command Garrick, your old friend, leaning against a post while Bodhi, your cousin, didn’t even look at you. While Imogen crossed her arms, regarding her with a mixture of distrust and disdain.

But ever so determined, you lifted your chin. It had been almost two months since you had gotten there. Almost two months and he still refused to even give you two minutes of his time. And yet you refusing to shrink under their scrutiny. “I’m not your enemy, Xaden. I’m your sister. You’d think after six years you’d know that. I’m not here to cause trouble, I’m here to,”

He scoffed. “A little late for that, don’t you think?” Interrupting your sentence

That had hurt. Had it been too late? You could feel your stomach twisted. You had prepared herself for hostility, but hearing it aloud—from him—still hurt. Hurt more than expected. That was your brother.

But in that moment you had never more like a stranger.

Garrick sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Look, it’s not personal—”

“Like hell it isn’t,” Xaden cut in, his jaw clenched. He took a step toward you, his voice lowering to something dangerous. “Because of you, our father is dead. Because of you, our mother walked away from us. Had you just been a little more helpful, things wouldn’t be this fucking difficult,” he said. His voice filled with pure distain, pure hatred and anger.

His words hit like a punch to the ribs.

You had only been fourteen years old, just barely understanding what was even happening when their father was executed for his rebellion along with the other leaders. You had stood there, frozen, tears streaming down her face while Xaden held her hand so tightly it hurt.

But it was your mother who shattered everything.

It had been before the rebellion. Years before. Right after Xaden’s birthday. She had tucked you both in at bed that night. Told you both how much she loved you. Kissed you both so lovingly and softly. And the next morning?

Gone.

No note. No explanation. Just a home that felt empty and wrong.

Xaden had never forgiven her for that. Neither had you.

And now, surrounded by the people who would die for him, who would follow him into battle without hesitation, he made sure they all knew where she stood.

“She can’t be trusted,” he had told them. “Keep your distance.”

And they had listened.

The isolation was suffocating.

It was a permanent weight in you chest that was always threatening your mind constantly.

You were used to whispers, but the silence was worse. The Marked Ones didn’t speak to you unless necessary. They didn’t train with you. If you tried to spar, they found someone else. If you sat down at a table, they left.

Even the others followed their lead.

Even your squad. They put up with you when they had to. But that was it.

Sawyer was the only one who seemed indifferent, watching her with something like curiosity rather than outright hatred. At least she had him. Sawyer was sweet.

But Xaden?

Xaden didn’t look at you at all.

And that was worse than all of it.

It was months past, presentation and threshing was just around the corner—or just over the gauntlet.

The Gauntlet loomed in the distance above them, an unforgiving structure of swinging beams, crumbling platforms, and gaps that seemed impossible to cross.

Failure meant death.

And you weren’t about to fail.

The morning of the run, whispers followed her as she strapped on her training leathers. Echoed whispers surrounded them around the dining hall and through the halls out side.

“She’ll fall.”

“She won’t even make it halfway.”

“She should’ve never been allowed here in the first place.”

“She won’t make it past threshing.”

“Let’s hope not.”

You ignored them.

You had to.

You couldn’t allow those thoughts to take over. You couldn’t let them be right.

All the odds were against you. Abandoned and ignored by your brother. Ignored and shunned by your family from a decision that you truly had no part of. It wasn’t your fault. In the big grand scheme of things, it was not your fault. But that didn’t matter.

Because in their minds, and in Xaden’s, it was your fault. Everything. Was. Your. Fault.

And that guilt? That unfair burden? That would always remain as long as Xaden blamed you for everything.

It had been months now after parapet. Threshing was in a few weeks. Presentation. But first was the Gauntlet.

Xaden stood at the top with Garrick, arms crossed as he surveyed the cadets. If he heard the murmurs, he didn’t acknowledge them. His dark eyes narrowing down the course at his wing as the other sections and squads prepared to do their practice runs before the timed trials.

Practicing for when threshing was finally around. The test for a chance to prove themselves worthy. Worthy enough to make it past presentation, they’d need all these skills. To ride your dragons. If you made it that far, at least.

The course was grueling. Designed to push cadets past their limits. Designed with dragons in mind for each obstacle. Designed to weed out the weak ones.

And so here you were. Standing in the front of the line for your squad, just behind Sawyer. First squad was finishing up ahead of you. The first few competitors barely made it over the first swinging bridge before slipping to their deaths. Others hesitated at the crumbling stones, losing precious time.

Then it was time for your squad. Sawyer went first, his agility unmatched as he maneuvered through the course with a speed no one could match. It was probably because he had done this before.

Sawyer was a repeat, as you had learned. He had gone through all this last year.

Then it was your turn.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, but you shoved the nerves down. You didn’t have the luxury of fear. You couldn’t afford to feel. Not now. Not in front of the rest of your Squad, the

As the signal to begin echoed through the training grounds, you launched yourself forward with unwavering resolve.

The first obstacle, a towering vertical wall, stood as an imposing sentinel. Without hesitation, you sprinted toward it, you steps light and measured. Utilizing your momentum, you leaped, you fingers gripping the edge with practiced precision. With a controlled pull, she swung her leg over and descended smoothly, barely pausing before advancing to the next challenge.

The rotating wheel loomed ahead, a notorious obstacle that had bested many cadets. Timing her approach, you synchronized your movements with the wheel’s rotations. With a swift, calculated jump, you grasped a handle and swung yourself to the other side, landing in a crouch before springing forward without losing momentum.

A series of balance beams awaited, each narrowing mean. You navigated the beams with grace. Your arms subtly adjusting to maintain equilibrium. Your focus was absolute, gaze fixed ahead, blocking out the murmurs of onlookers and the weight of expectations.

Next came the rope climb. Seizing the coarse rope, you ascended hand over hand, you movements fluid and efficient. Reaching the summit, you tapped the marker and descended in controlled slides, your feet touching the ground with barely a sound.

The next challenge, the chimney climb, required both strength and strategy. Positioning yourself between the narrow walls, you used opposing pressure to “walk” upward, your movements steady and controlled.

The final challenge was the huge steep wall. The one to run up, the challenge that simulates climbing up the dragon leg to ride. And just above it was where your brother was.

Taking a deep breath, you backed up. Backing up as far as she possibly could. This was where she proved them all wrong. And then. Suddenly, you bolted forward. Using all the strength she had, she spent it into and bolted up the wall. Your feet pressed against the wall as you pushed yourself up and up and up until your hand reached the lip of the curve.

With all the strength you had left, you pulled yourself over the edge. Your body was pulled over with the last bit of your strength as finally your right leg got pulled over. And a soft click of the stop watch sounded in your ears.

A stunned silence fell over the crowd as you finished hauling yourself over the edge.

Garrick’s voiced cleared before he read your time aloud.

Second place.

Second place.

Only second to Sawyer.

The silence stretched, heavy and stunned, before someone let out a low whistle. And then some hushed mumbling.

You got to your feet before you turned, locking eyes with Xaden. Onyx eyes, locking with onyx eyes. Sweat dripping down your skin.

For the first time since you had arrived, he was looking at you.

Really looking at you.

And for a moment—a single, fleeting moment—you saw something crack in his expression. Something uncertain. Looking like you big brother again. But there was something else.

Something like doubt.

But then he turned away, jaw tightening.

He didn’t congratulate you.

Didn’t acknowledge what you had done.

But he couldn’t ignore it, either.

You weren’t weak.

Just like Xaden, you were a Riorson.

And you were a goddamn force to be reckoned with.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Red Thirst in the Morning

Author’s Note: This is the next part of Hagiel’s Awful Mission. First. Previous.

Next

Playlist for this fic series: Spotify Youtube

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: nonconsensual blood drinking, please ask me to tag if something bothers you

Summary: In the early morning, Hagiel gives into his cravings for blood and drinks from a dead body. Unfortunately, he’s spotted by one of the Ecclesiarchy’s elderly priests while feeding. 

Hagiel had been unable to sleep very well, even though the long day and evening of working alongside the mortals to get the city into the appearance of fully functional had worn him out. He had eaten a full standard ration, as he was the only surviving member of his squad, and there was at least, plenty of Astartes-quality standard rations to consume. But he couldn't get the scent of fresh blood to leave his mind. He had managed to restrain himself from feasting on the freely bleeding and injured mortals like the savage monster that the Red Thirst would turn him into, but doing so had taken a distressing amount of will-power and concentration. So much that Hagiel had found himself waking up less than a handful of hours later, his stomach gurgling with hunger and the Red Thirst pulsing in his thoughts, guiding his black-clad body through the streets of the hive city, aware of where the day and night Arbites patrols and repair crews were stationed all over the city and careful to slip from shadow to shadow, avoiding them as he made his way over to where the dead were being processed. 

The Lamenter took in a deep breath, the stench of death and the beginnings of decay, despite the fact that the remaining members of the Ecclesiarchy were working as fast as they could to give the dead their final rites and committing the bodies to either the flames of consumption or to be processed into Corpse Starch. He slipped into the mausoleum where the bodies had been piled together, taking in another deep breath as he hunted for the freshest corpses, his guilty conscious not quiet enough for the Son of Sanguinius to stop himself from kneeling down before a still-warm body of a mortal. He suppressed the groan of relief that threatened to claw its' way out of his chest as his fangs sunk into the dead mortal's neck, tasting the coppery tang of blood filling his mouth and quenching the desperate, ravening thirst deep within his body and soul.

The blood was thicker and cooler than he liked - but as the mortal he was drinking from was newly dead, that didn't surprise him much. Hagiel drunk from the body until it had no more left to give him. He whispered softly "My thanks for the meal." As he licked the two wounds he'd left on the body's skin closed with a swipe of his tongue. No need to terrify whoever was processing the body by finding unexpected, post-mortem wounds. It might start a panic or a rumor that there was Chaos shenanigans going on amongst the Ecclesiarchy and he really didn't need that kind of additional scrutiny nor barely contained panic. His stomach was pleasantly full of blood and Hagiel was about to clean his face and lips of the cooling blood on his lips when he heard a startled gasp.

His head snapped up and over to the sound, still crouched over the dead mortal, wearing only his black body suit (as it was much stealthier than the bulky armor he typically wore, and what civilian clothes he did have were also quite colorful as well) his red eyes glowing softly in the partial darkness of the mausoleum as he spotted an elderly priest staring down at him in abject fear and horror.

Fuck!

"Wait, I can explain-" Hagiel called out, trying to make his voice sound warm and inviting, even as blood dripped off his chin and onto his bodysuit. 

"D-Deamon! I-I will not let you take me!" The elderly priest yelled hysterically before sprinting out of the mausoleum as fast as his mortal legs could carry him.

FUCK

This had the potential to get wildly out of hand. Hagiel wiped his face clean with his hands, licking the blood off of his fingers hurriedly. He briefly looked down at himself to make sure that he didn't have any accidental blood splatter anywhere before he went sprinting after the fleeing elderly mortal, internally swearing. He should have heard the elderly baseline coming. It had been his own avarice and ravening hunger that had narrowed his senses to focus on the dead mortal he had been consuming. He should have double checked that the area had been clear, rather than immediately zeroing in on his meal. 

Hagiel ran after the mortal, searching for them. The priest looked to be an unaltered baseline mortal - and as they had also been older in years from their silvery, wispy hair and the amount of wrinkles and sun-damaged freckles on their face and hands, he hoped that they hadn't gotten far. He *really* needed to find that priest and explain himself before the other could accuse him of being a Heretic or worse. 

~

Hagiel scoured the city from top to bottom, moving as quickly as he could, avoiding the rest of the mortals lest they ask him why he was running around in the Astartes equivalent of his underwear as he really had no good way of explaining himself. But as the minutes turned into hours and the morning passed, the Lamenter had to admit to himself that he... Couldn't find the mortal priest, no matter where it was that he looked. He could only hoped that the other would calm down and approach him privately to ask why he had done what he had done. Hagiel really didn't want things to potentially escalate.

With a defeated sigh, Hagiel returned to The Resolve and got into his power armor. He was half-way dressed when his vox started to buzz. He answered it in his helmet as he continued to get dressed, knowing that she wouldn't be able to see or hear him doing so. He had wasted a lot of time trying to track down the priest and knew that he needed to make a public appearance doing something actually useful in order to help keep the mortals morale from tanking. Again. "Yes, Lady Sablescar, is there something that you needed from me?"

"I am aware that you are quite busy, Lord Angel, but if you have time to speak with me in person today, I would be most grateful. A matter of some delicacy and needed discretion has come up and I feel that you need to be informed of the issue. Preferably sooner, rather than later, so that it can be resolved before the Ultramarines arrive." The noble mortal woman answered.

Oh fuck. What now? He really hoped that it wasn't another xenos attack looming at the edges of the solar system. He wasn't sure if the ragged remains of the planetary defense forces could take another invasion force. If it was a solo pirate ship, with him as a threat and bluff of more Astartes to potentially tangle with, they might be able to chase them off without much issue. "Alright, where would you like to meet up?" If he remembered correctly, oat least one of the repair crews were working on the civic buildings, which would make having a secretive meeting there unwise and difficult.

"I'll send my driver to go pick you up and bring you to my manse. I am working from home at the moment, as I had been when the issue came to my attention. Where should I send the vehicle?" Lady Sablescar inquired politely. 

"Please meet me on the western side of the primary space port." Hagiel informed her. His ship was on the undamaged eastern side, but he should be able to get to the western side well before her space car driver could. "I am able to step away from what I am doing currently to speak with you about this emergent issue whenever you have time."

"Excellent. My driver will be meeting you on the western side of the spaceport in ten minutes. My thanks for your immediate response to my vox-call, Lord Angel." Lady Sablescar responded before ending the call.

Hagiel swore under his breath as he stepped into his boots and immediately began sprinting for the far side of the spaceport. He should be able to get there just before the noble woman's driver did, but only just. Today was just... Really not going the way he had hoped it would.

~

Hagiel skidded onto the current work site at top speed, slowing down to a purposeful walk as he came into view of the mortals busily working on repairing the space port, waving to the couple of mortals who were looking in his direction as he started to walk up to the leader of the construction crew. It had taken him less than five minutes to sprint across the damaged and destroyed buildings and terminal grounds. It was remarkable what several nights' of full rest, several full meals and a belly full of Thirst-quenching blood could do to sharpen the abilities of an Astartes. For the first time in weeks, possibly months, he was not slowed down nor distracted by the gnawing hunger that plagued all Sons of Sanguinius. He had slept enough that his mind and body were running at peak capacity instead of whatever dregs he could force himself to continue on.

He briefly spoke with the leader of the construction team, informing him that he would only be there for a short period of time, but was willing to work until one of Lady Sablsecar's personal serfs came to collect him to aid in reconstruction efforts elsewhere. His presence was gratefully and seemingly joyously welcomed by the baseline mortals on the team, and he set about aiding them with his enhanced strength and endurance. 

While this sort of reconstruction and building wasn't something he necessarily enjoyed doing, there was an almost meditative rhythm to what the mortals were asking of him, and as he was no longer starving, the Lamenter was almost relaxed by the time that a well-dressed baseline stepped out of the floating space car and called out "Lord Angel, if you would accompany me? Lady Sablescar is expecting you."

Hagiel sighed and set down the large metal pipe he'd been carrying, nodding to several of the mortals around him "I will be back when I am able."

"See you later, Lord Angel! Your aid is always most welcome." The construction team leader called out, waving him off. "Better you deal with the nobles than any of us, Lord."

Hagiel chuckled a little at that, understanding the sentiment behind it. As a rank-and-file Battle Brother, he rarely had this much direct communication with the mortal nobility but... As he was the only living Astartes in this system, it fell to him to wrangle the nobles into doing what was necessary in order to get the hive city for inspection, ideally before the Ultramarines arrived... Though from what Hagiel had seen of the city during his frantic attempts at searching for the elderly priest, even if the mortals continued to work night and day at this pace, they would only just be able to fix up the upper levels in time. The deeper structural issues would take months if not years to fully repair.. But hopefully the Ultramarines would be uninterested in looking at the underhive section of the city. "I suppose that is true." He murmured before heading over to the driver, sitting in the back of the fancy space car. It was large enough on the inside to accommodate his bulk, but only just. 

[sea-owl]

Spring's Rebirth Chapter 1

Ok remember this moodbard? Well here's the first chapter. Also posted on AO3.

Lady Penelope, daughter of Lady Portia the goddess of the harvest and agriculture, had always been a curious child. She would often wander looking for new things or places, no matter how much her mother wished for her to sit still in one place like her nymph sisters. If she was not wandering, she was creating, her current one being a red fruit. Though she couldn’t quite get it the way she wanted it yet. 

“Ugh!” Penelope groaned from her seated position. Burying her face in her hands, as the fruit she was attempting to create had died once more. “Why does this keep happening?” 

Felicity patted her sister’s head. “Perhaps this is the wrong kind of soil to use?” 

Penelope doubted that. This was their mother’s fields where she created and tested new crops all the time. The soil was enchanted to change, adding to taking away nutrients needed for the plant to thrive. This soil was good for any type of plant, hell Penelope remembered when her mother had created poison ivy in these fields. But Felicity was still young, she would rather think it’s the soil than her older sister just not being good with her powers. So, Penelope nods like she’s in agreement. “Perhaps it is the soil.” 

Standing Penelope wiped the dirt off her dress. “I am going to see Phillip.”

“Don’t forget tonight is the solstice!” Felicity called as Penelope flashed away. 

Within the blink of an eye Penelope teleported herself into Phillip’s Forest, where she proceeded to groan again. Only this time louder because there was no way her mother could hear her in here. She had forgotten about the solstice tonight, and if she was being honest, she didn’t want to go to it either. It’s not like anyone will miss her if she doesn’t attend, they would have to notice her first. 

“As if Mother would let her daughter be the only one to skip one of the biggest events of the year,” Penelope muttered to herself as she began her search for Phillip. 

Every year on the longest night and longest day the three courts of Heaven, Earth, and the Underworld will gather on Mount Aubrey. There the members of the courts will feast, dance, create new alliances, or reassure old ones were still in place. It was basically one big party. and Penelope hated going.

Despite Lady Portia being a high-ranking member of the Court of Earth Penelope was still a goddess with no domain and that left much to scrutiny in the eyes of the other gods. Most ignored her, but others were not so kind. She has heard the whispers, of how her only use is to bring back dead plants. 

Lady Portia would scoff and tell Penelope to ignore them. Phillip, one of the few friends Penelope still had, agreed. 

Phillip, the god of wild plants and wilderness, was a dear old friend of Penelope’s who hated court more than she did. Unless he was directly summoned, or it was the solstice Phillip avoided court like it was the plague. He would rather be in his forests than in a throne room, and often he was. Penelope wished she was that lucky, but she knows the reason Phillip can get away from not going is that he is member of two courts, the Earth and the Underworld. While his domain was technically on the mortal plane, aspects of it dig below, or send a soul to the underworld. 

There is also that rumor that his forests host an entrance to the underworld so he is excused from court to tend to it but that is just a rumor. 

"Though I suppose Phillip doesn't mind the rumor since he is left alone because of IT!" Penelope yelped as her misplaced stepped sent her tumbling over a ledge.

The wind rang in Penelope’s ears as she fell, her red curls flying everywhere. It was the strangest feeling but if Penelope didn’t know any better it felt like some sort of force was pulling her to wherever she was falling. 

"Well that was no fun," Penelope muttered to herself, taking in her surroundings.

She was in an underground cavern of some sort. Gnarled tree roots twist down from above while below seems to go down into endless darkness. Her only source of light coming from the entrance of the cavern where she fell. Somewhere further down she could hear the sound of moving water, an underground river most likely. Littering the ground are dead flowers with some seeming to form a path.

"Oh, you poor things," Penelope cooed. One hand gently tracing the petals. "Let me help you."

Gathering her power Penelope let it flow through her fingertips to the petals, down the stem, expanding into the leaves, and dividing among the roots. Once it reached the roots she let it touch another flower's roots, and then another, and another, until she had reached even the ones she could not see.

The flowers no longer drooped, standing proudly, the petals glowed a beautiful red with a dark center. That same glow followed the path into the darkness.

Ah Penelope recognized these flowers now, they were poppies. It was one of the first flowers she had created back when she was still learning how to use her powers. It hadn’t lasted very long, like most of her creations, but she remembered being so proud of red the petals were, almost as red as blood. 

“It is strange there are so many of you here,” Penelope said. She looked back up at the opening, while it is big it is still smaller than the field below. “I cannot imagine you get all the light you need just from the opening.” 

“But then again,” Penelope muttered as she looked down at the flowers. “You are not exactly how I created you either.” 

“Penny! Penny!” 

Penelope’s head snapped back towards the hole. “Pip! Pip, I am down here!”

Moments later Penelope saw her fellow god his head over the entrance to the cavern. “Penny!”

Phillip was older than Penelope, his physical appearance being two years older than her’s. All his work in the forest gave him a rugged appearance, mixed with his wavy brown hair Penelope often joked that he looked like a maiden’s fantasy woodsman. 

Meanwhile Penelope was tiny, barely reaching 5 feet, and her body was on the curvier side. Red curls frame her brown eyes and rosy lips. 

Penelope waved. “Hi Pip.” 

“Are you okay? How did you end up down there?” Phillip questioned as he conjured a vine to lift Penelope out. 

Penelope blushed. “I may have lost my footing at some point and fell.” 

Phillip looked bewildered. “You tripped? Into the cavern?”

Penelope nodded, and Phillip peaked back over the opening. Penelope watched his face as he studied the flowers below. The bewilderment was still there, but now Phillip’s brow furrowed and he was fidgeting. “How-how are they alive?”

Penelope peaked over the entrance herself. There was nothing out of the ordinary to her. Just a field of flowers, though she was curious about the sunlight situation since the only source was the entrance from above. Penelope turned back to Phillip to ask about just that but flinched back at him staring at her. Phillip looked at her like he was examining one of his new experimental plants. 

“Pip?” 

Phillip shook his head. “It’s nothing Penny, come on we have to at least make an appearance at the solstice.”

Penelope groaned again. “Must we? I know you don’t want to go to this either.” 

“I’m afraid it’s something unavoidable,” Phillip said. 

Neither of the gods noticed a pair of green eyes, hidden by the cavern’s shadows, watching them leave. 

[rayshippouuchiha]

FMK - bakugou, mineta & endeavor

You just decided to dig right through the trash didn’t you?

Fuck:  Bakugou. Ugh. God I can’t believe you made me type that.  But hell given that he sweats a ng-compound maybe getting off will calm his ass down a little bit. Either way as soon as we’re done and I’m getting ready to leave I’m gonna look him directly in the eyes and say “Izuku was better” and walk out.  He’ll never recover.

Marry: Endeavor.  But hear me out, I have plan.  I marry him, I manage to avoid a pre-nup and get my name on all his shit.  I start slipping him small doses of sleeping medication every other night so that he doesn’t realize anything is up. Then, one night when he’s dead to the world, I text a friend on my phone and then I immediately text Dabi on a burner phone I bought for this exact purpose months before the wedding.  I destroy the burner phone and get rid of the pieces. I leave the house, I make sure I’m caught on camera in my rattiest clothes looking miserable and buying ice cream and Midol from the local konibi.  I go home. I send a passive aggressive tweet about men being so afraid of periods they’ll leave the house to get away from them.  I post a pic of myself eating ice cream on the couch. I call Endeavor’s phone and leave increasingly worried sounding voice mails and text messages.  I call his agency. I visit the agency.  I contact his kids and do the same.  Finally after 2 days I officially report my husband missing.  I tell them that what happened the night I last saw him, how he took a nap and I went out to the store and he was gone when I got back.  I have time stamped evidence to back up my claims and I can cry on command.  Nothing I tell them is technically a lie.  I am no longer a suspect.  I go home.  The case is open until Endeavor’s body is found, charred and all but destroyed.  I am distraught at the funeral.  I go home, drink wine, take a bath and make sure I’m photographed weeping in the living room through the blinds by nosy paparazzo.  The nation talks about the Number 1 Hero’s brave young widow.  3 months pass and I bravely accept an interview from a reputable news station.  I tearfully tell them the truth about Endeavor’s history of abuse that I learned of too late and was simply too afraid to speak up about before now.  The nation is rocked.  Shouto speaks up, the villain Dabi takes credit for his father’s murder.  There’s a call for closer scrutiny on heroes.  I get Rei out of the hospital.  The kids come home.  I see Dabi on a corner one night walking back from the store.  He nods in my direction. I go home to my huge estate and my new family.  We all know what I’ve done.  They say nothing. They are safe, we are happy.      

Kill: Mineta.  He gonna be grape juice for real.

[confines]

acathexis sequel when 👀👀👀 (also, curious! will we ever confront or reveal the perpetrator, and does stewy beat the shit out of them? lol or is the larger story focused on kendalls messy journey to therapy? btw both are good)

helloooo anon! okay so! acathexis sequel definitely sometime before s4 bc otherwise i'm going to have to temporarily drop out of the succ fandom to avoid spoilers bc i can't multi-task like that. i obviously want to avoid that lmao so hopefully way sooner than that. but my writing ability is suuuper unpredictable so i cannot say for sure. could easily be in the next couple of months, could unfortunately be 6 months. :/

other details under a read more bc i'm shy/going to be speaking maybe a little too lightly ab a sensitive topic in a public setting. so consider the read more to be me inviting you into my house for a proper visit instead of us shouting in my frontyard for all the neighbours to hear. tw for non-graphic discussion of sexual assault and the reality of life after it.

so obviously the perpetrator is also a student and is someone who is in kendall's social circle to some degree. kendall doesn't know who it was based on memories of what happened but he has some suspicions about the person/people who supplied him with benzos when he was already pretty drunk. there are definitely moments at the party that hit a little different now than they had at the time. kendall ofc tries not to actively think about it if he can help it so it instead ofc manifests in his avoidant behaviour.

he's going to talk about that night with his (new) therapist and it's basically going to be a series of rubber duck moments of realisation about certain things as he reorients them for an outsider's perspective but i'm still not sure if at any point he's really going to know for sure and for certain who to blame for what, what happened while he was unconscious, motivating factors, or anything like that. how that makes him feel is something that he's definitely going to try and put into a little box in his mind that he never opens but. y'know. that's probably not going to work. especially when going to see the therapist keeps making him think about it and stewy refuses to let him live in complete and total denial.

i think kendall is going to have to mention to stewy at some point "hey um this guy might be The Guy" and that could escalate under certain circumstances into stewy beating the shit out of the guy (who might not even be The Guy! what a mess that would be). but i don't think stewy would seek out confrontations bc it could make things bad for kendall. post-acathexis there aren't any rumours about what happened that night, so i think there would be some concern that the guy would retaliate and the revenge could backfire. but yes, stewy does want to kill that man, whether it's a hypothetical entity or a known one. he wants that man graveyard dead.

i could see stewy subtly destroying the guy's reputation in a heartbeat. not in any way that's traceable to the situation with kendall whatsoever. but just quietly ruining the guy's life. making shit up but also possibly encouraging scrutiny enough to the extent that the guy gets caught doing something and is kicked out, never to be seen again and only mentioned by classmates in the context of "yeah that guy was such a scumbag." i don't know if i'll get into all this in the fic but i do like it! and stewy would like it! so if the stars align. 👀

that is something that's complicating this fic actually! i felt the call for a sequel bc i'm unsettled by kendall's response and want to see that resolved somehow but also, stewy. stewy in acathexis was in a waking nightmare. kendall's reaction was so abnormal that stewy had to respond abnormally as well. which, he showed kendall that he cared and he helped his friend, he did great, but still, that was all very distressing to him. he couldn't even say "man i'm so sorry that happened" bc kendall couldn't identify that something HAD happened. the older they get, the more awareness stewy has of how god-fucking-awful kendall's mental health is and he finds the unfolding understanding terrifying bc the person he loves cannot be trusted to look out for himself. it's just terrifying.

so stewy's perspective is very interesting! too interesting, almost! i think to keep myself from going insane, just like in acathexis i'm not going to write directly from his perspective, just kendall's perception of his perspective and obviously stewy's words, which you can interpret for yourself. he is going to be more in-focus than i had originally predicted, tho! not that you could tell it judging by canon but it's very difficult to sideline a character like stewy!

whoo, i can't believe how much i just wrote, i gotta cut myself off lol. thank you so much for your ask and for your interest, anon! i hope i finish this sequel sooner rather than later so you can read it sometime soon and not months from now! i'll try and put in a good word with the writing team. :)

[fuckyeahtx]

Letters From An American

Today in Fuck Abbott and the GQP Harder Than Ever Before Welcome to Fucking Gilead Edition

September 1, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

Last night at midnight, a new law went into effect in Texas. House Bill 1927 permits people to carry handguns without a permit, unless they have been convicted of a felony or domestic violence. This measure was not popular in the state. Fifty-nine percent of Texans—including law enforcement officers—opposed it. But 56% of Republicans supported it. “I don’t know what it’s a solution to,” James McLaughlin, executive director of the Texas Police Chiefs Association, said to Heidi Pérez-Moreno of the Texas Tribune when Republican governor Greg Abbott signed the bill in mid-August. “I don’t know what the problem was to start with.”

Texas Gun Rights executive director Chris McNutt had a different view. He said in a statement: “Texas is finally a pro-gun state despite years of foot-dragging, roadblocks, and excuses from the spineless political class.”

The bill had failed in 2019 after McNutt showed up at the home of the Texas House Speaker, Republican Dennis Bonnen, to demand its passage. Bonnen said McNutt’s “overzealous” visit exhibited “insanity.” "Threats and intimidation will never advance your issue. Their issue is dead," he told McNutt. McNutt told the Dallas Morning News: "If politicians like Speaker Dennis Bonnen think they can show up at the doorsteps of Second Amendment supporters and make promises to earn votes in the election season, they shouldn't be surprised when we show up in their neighborhoods to insist they simply keep their promises in the legislative session.”

That was not the only bill that went into effect at midnight last night in Texas. In May, Governor Abbott signed the strongest anti-abortion law in the country, Senate Bill 8, which went into effect on September 1. It bans abortion after 6 weeks—when many women don’t even know they’re pregnant—thus automatically stopping about 85% of abortions in Texas. There are no exceptions for rape or incest. Opponents of the bill had asked the Supreme Court to stop the law from taking effect. It declined to do so.

The law avoided the 1973 Supreme Court Roe v. Wade decision protecting the right to abortion before fetal viability at about 22 to 24 weeks by leaving the enforcement of the law not up to the state, but rather up to private citizens. This was deliberate. As Dahlia Lithwick and Mark Joseph Stern explained in an article in Slate: “Typically, when a state restricts abortion, providers file a lawsuit in federal court against the state officials responsible for enforcing the new law. Here, however, there are no such officials: The law is enforced by individual anti-abortion activists.” With this law, there’s no one to stop from enforcing it.

S.B. 8 puts ordinary people in charge of law enforcement. Anyone—at all—can sue any individual who “aids or abets,” or even intends to abet, an abortion in Texas after six weeks. Women seeking abortion themselves are exempt, but anyone who advises them (including a spouse), gives them a ride, provides counseling, staffs a clinic, and so on, can be sued by any random stranger. If the plaintiff wins, they pocket $10,000 plus court costs, and the clinic that provided the procedure is closed down. If the defendant doesn’t defend themselves, the court must find them guilty. And if the defendant wins, they get…nothing. Not even attorney’s fees.

So, nuisance lawsuits will ruin abortion providers, along with anyone accused of aiding and abetting—or intending to abet—an abortion. And the enforcers will be ordinary citizens.

Texas has also just passed new voting restrictions that allow partisan poll watchers to have “free movement” in polling places, enabling them to intimidate voters. Texas governor Greg Abbott is expected to sign that bill in the next few days.

Taken together with the vigilantism running wild in school board meetings and attacks on election officials, the Texas legislation is a top red flag in the red flag factory. The Republican Party is empowering vigilantes to enforce their beliefs against their neighbors.

The law, which should keep us all on a level playing field, has been abandoned by our Supreme Court. Last night, it refused to stop the new Texas abortion law from going into effect, and tonight, just before midnight, by a 5–4 vote, it issued an opinion refusing to block the law. Justice Sonia Sotomayor’s dissent read: “The court’s order is stunning. Presented with an application to enjoin a flagrantly unconstitutional law engineered to prohibit women from exercising their constitutional rights and evade judicial scrutiny, a majority of Justices have opted to bury their heads in the sand.”

Texas’s law flouts nearly 50 years of federal precedents, she points out, but the Supreme Court has looked the other way. ”The State’s gambit worked,” Sotomayor wrote. She continued: “This is untenable. It cannot be the case that a state can evade federal judicial scrutiny by outsourcing the enforcement of unconstitutional laws to its citizenry."

The Supreme Court has essentially blessed the efforts of Texas legislators to prevent the enforcement of federal law by using citizen vigilantes to get their way. The court decided the case on its increasingly active “shadow docket,” a series of cases decided without full briefings or oral argument, often in the dead of night, without signed opinions. In the past, such emergency decisions were rare and used to issue uncontroversial decisions or address irreparable immediate harm (like the death penalty). Since the beginning of the Trump administration, they have come to make up the majority of the court’s business.

Since 2017, the court has used the shadow docket to advance right-wing goals. It has handed down brief, unsigned decisions after a party asks for emergency relief from a lower court order, siding first with Trump, and now with state Republicans, at a high rate. As University of Texas law professor Stephen Vladeck noted: “In less than three years, [Trump’s] Solicitor General has filed at least twenty-one applications for stays in the Supreme Court (including ten during the October 2018 Term alone).” In comparison, “during the sixteen years of the George W. Bush and Obama Administrations, the Solicitor General filed a total of eight such applications—averaging one every other Term.”

So, operating without open arguments or opinions, the Supreme Court has shown that it will not enforce federal law, leaving state legislatures to do as they will. This, after all, was the whole point of the “originalism” that Republicans embraced under President Ronald Reagan. Originalists wanted to erase the legal justification of the post–World War II years that used the “due process” and “equal protection” clauses of the Fourteenth Amendment to apply the protections of the Bill of Rights to the states. It was that concept that protected civil rights for people of color and for women, by using the federal government to prohibit states from enforcing discriminatory laws.

Since the 1980s, Republicans have sought to hamstring federal power and return power to the states, which have neither the power nor the inclination to regulate businesses effectively, and which can discriminate against minorities and get away with it, so long as the federal government doesn’t enforce equal protection.

Today’s events make that a reality.

Worse, though, the mechanisms of the Texas law officially turn a discriminatory law over to state-level vigilantes to enforce. The wedge to establish this mechanism is abortion, but the door is now open for extremist state legislatures to turn to private citizens to enforce any law that takes away an individual’s legal right…like, say, the right to vote. And in Texas, now, a vigilante doesn't even have to have a permit to carry the gun that will back up his threats.

During Reconstruction, vigilantes also carried guns. They enforced state customs that reestablished white supremacy after the federal government had tried to defend equality before the law. It took only a decade for former Confederates who had tried to destroy the government to strip voting rights, and civil rights, from the southern Black men who had defended the United States government during the Civil War. For the next eighty years, the South was a one-party state where enforcement of the laws depended on your skin color, your gender, and whom you knew.

Opponents have compared those who backed the Texas anti-abortion law to the Taliban, the Islamic extremists in Afghanistan whose harsh interpretation of Islamic Sharia law strips women of virtually all rights. But the impulse behind the Texas law, the drive to replace the federal protection of civil rights with state vigilantes enforcing their will, is homegrown. It is a reflection of the position that Republicans would like women to have in our society, for sure, but it is also written in the laughing faces of Mississippi law enforcement officers Lawrence Rainey and Cecil Ray Price in 1967, certain even as they were arraigned for the 1964 murders of James Earl Chaney, Andrew Goodman, and Michael Henry Schwerner, that the system was so rigged in their favor that they would literally get away with murder.

When they were killed, Chaney, Goodman, and Schwerner were trying to register Black people to vote.

[eldritchw1tch]

i don’t want you like a best friend: a tswift-pimms playlist

i don’t want you like a best friend: a tswift-pimms playlist 

link

this is the pimms playlist i spent more than a year working on from like, 2018 to the end of 2019! as such, it only contains music up through lover, not anything from folklore or evermore. @permets-2​ finally poked me into posting the liner notes, which I gave up on because tumblr formatting was fighting me, so please know i haven’t actually looked at them since 2019 and there might still be missing things? idk.

this playlist is absolutely dedicated to my beloved @faiasakura​, who did her own version of an all-tswift pimms playlist completely independently (we actively avoided comparing notes, lol), which can be found here!

i don’t really go here lately but i hope this is of interest to someone!

Prologue

1. Don’t Blame Me (reputation)

for you, I would fall from grace

Just to touch your face

If you walk away, I'd beg you on my knees to stay

…

Lord save me, my drug is my baby

I'll be usin' for the rest of my life

Act 1: The Q

2. Gorgeous (reputation)

a crush

Ocean blue eyes looking in mine

I feel like I might sink and drown and die

…

You're so gorgeous

I can't say anything to your face

'Cause look at your face

And I'm so furious

At you for making me feel this way

But what can I say?

You're gorgeous

3. Treacherous (Red)

something magnetic, pulling them both in

And I'll do anything you say

If you say it with your hands

And I'd be smart to walk away

But you're quicksand

…

Your name has echoed through my mind

And I just think you should, think you should know

That nothing safe is worth the drive

And I will follow you, follow you home

4. Dress (reputation)

a shared and precious secret: love, desperate and messy and everything. But also: the scrutiny, the frenetic anxiety, the fear.

I’m spilling wine in the bathtub

You kiss my face and we're both drunk

Everyone thinks that they know us

But they know nothing about—

All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you

5. Tied Together With a Smile (Taylor Swift)

the pressure builds; jack’s anxiety gets worse

Hold on, baby you're losing it

The water's high, you're jumping into it

And letting go, and no one knows

That you cry, but you don't tell anyone

That you might not be the golden one

And you're tied together with a smile

But you're coming undone

6. Long Live (Speak Now)

the glory, the playoffs, the memorial cup: the golden boys of hockey, on top of the world

Long live the walls we crashed through

All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

I was screaming, long live all the magic we made

And bring on all the pretenders

One day, we will be remembered

…

Hold on, to spinning around

Confetti falls to the ground

May these memories break our fall

7. State of Grace (Red)

the 34 days, inside kent’s euphoria

This is a state of grace

This is the worthwhile fight

Love is a ruthless game

Unless you play it good and right

These are the hands of fate

You’re my Achilles heel

this is the golden age of something good and right and real

8. Cruel Summer (Lover)

(that golden season and its dark underbelly)

So cut the headlights, summer's a knife

I'm always waiting for you just to cut to the bone

Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

And if I bleed, you'll be the last to know

-

Said, "I'm fine," but it wasn't true

I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you

And I snuck in through the garden gate

Every night that summer just to seal my fate (Oh)

And I scream, "For whatever it's worth

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?"

9. Haunted (Speak Now)

the overdose: kent finds jack on the bathroom floor

Whoa, holding my breath

Won't lose you again

Something's made your eyes go cold

-

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this

I thought I had you figured out

Something's gone terribly wrong

You're all I wanted

10. I Know Places (1989)

kent in the waiting room, holding on hope

Something happens when everybody finds out

See the vultures circling, dark clouds

Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out

It could burn out

…

Lights flash and we'll run for the fences

Let them say what they want, we won't hear it

Loose lips sink ships all the damn time

Not this time

Act 2: The Fallout

11. The Story of Us (Speak Now)

kent goes to the draft; jack won’t answer his calls

Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room

And we're not speaking

And I'm dying to know

Is it killing you like it's killing me?

Yeah, and I don't know what to say

Since the twist of fate, when it all broke down

And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now

…

The battle's in your hands now

But I would lay my armor down

If you say you'd rather love than fight

12. Last Kiss (Speak Now)

jack and kent, the same realization from opposite sides

So I'll go sit on the floor

Wearing your clothes

All that I know is

I don't know how to be something you miss

I never thought we'd have a last kiss

Never imagined we'd end like this

Your name, forever the name on my lips

13. Death By A Thousand Cuts (Lover)

Starting to live with the devastation and the broken heart

Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts

Flashbacks waking me up

I get drunk, but it's not enough

’Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby

I look through the windows of this love

Even though we boarded them up

Chandelier's still flickering here

’Cause I can't pretend it's okay when it's not

It's death by a thousand cuts

14. If This Was A Movie (Speak Now)

regrets and memories

Last night, I heard my own heart beating

Sounded like footsteps on my stairs

Six months gone and I'm still reaching

Even though I know you're not there

I was playing back a thousand memories, baby

Thinkin' 'bout everything we've been through

Maybe I've been going back too much lately

When time stood still and I had you

15. Cold as You (Taylor Swift)

the grief and pain become anger and bitterness

And when you take, you take the very best of me

So I start a fight cause I need to feel something

And you do what you want cause I'm not what you wanted

…

You put up walls and paint them all a shade of gray

And I stood there loving you and wished them all away

And you come away with a great little story

Of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you

Interlude 1: Jack

16. I Almost Do (Red)

kent doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does (but jack doesn’t either)

I bet you think I either moved on or hate you

‘Cause each time you reach out, there’s no reply

I bet it never, ever occurred to you

That I can’t say hello to you

And risk another goodbye

…

Oh, we made quite a mess, babe

It’s probably better off this way

And I confess, babe

In my dreams, you’re touching my face

And asking me if I want to try again with you

And I almost do

Act 3: Coming of Age in Vegas

17. New Romantics (1989)

vegas; teammates; living in the moment; drinking, dancing, and self-destructing

We're all here, the lights and boys are blinding

We hang back, it's all in the timing

It's poker

He can't see it in my face

But I'm about to play my Ace (ahh)

We need love, but all we want is danger

We team up, then switch sides like a record changer

The rumors are terrible and cruel

But honey, most of them are true

…

Heartbreak is the national anthem

We sing it proudly

We’re too busy dancing (yeah) to get knocked off our feet

Baby, we're the new romantics

The best people in life are free

18. Begin Again (Red)

kent starts to move on

And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid

I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did

I've been spending the last eight months

Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end

But on a Wednesday in a cafe, I watched it begin again

19. The Way I Loved You (Fearless)

all the drinking and dancing and dating still feel empty and hollow; he just wants to feel again; he just wants that love back

I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain

It's 2 AM and I'm cursing your name

I'm so in love that I acted insane

And that's the way I loved you

Breaking down and coming undone

It's a roller coaster kind of rush

And I never knew I could feel that much

And that's the way I loved you

…

He can't see the smile I'm faking

And my heart's not breaking

'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all

And you were wild and crazy

Just so frustrating

Intoxicating, complicated

20. The Lucky One (Red)

kent parson: the loneliest boy, so alone at the top of the world

You had it figured out since you were in school

Everybody loves pretty, everybody loves cool

So overnight, you look like a sixties queen

…

And they tell you that you’re lucky, but you’re so confused

'Cause you don’t feel pretty, you just feel used

And all the young things line up to take your place

—

Another name goes up in lights

You wonder if you’ll make it out alive

21. Come In With The Rain (Fearless)

(starting to move on is not the same as letting go)

I’ve watched you so long, screamed your name

I don’t know what else I can say

…

But I’ll leave my window open

'Cause I’m too tired at night to call your name

Just know I’m right here hoping

That you’ll come in with the rain

Act 4: Implosion

22. Out of the Woods (1989)

memories he can’t escape of a love like a car crash

The night we couldn't quite forget

When we decided, we decided

To move the furniture so we could dance

Baby, like we stood a chance

Two paper airplanes flying, flying, flying

And I remember thinking

-

Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet?

…

You took a Polaroid of us

Then discovered (then discovered)

The rest of the world was black and white

But we were in screaming color

23. Red (Red)

Kent decides to go to epikegster

Loving him is like driving a new Maserati

Down a dead-end street

Faster than the wind, passionate as sin

Ending so suddenly

…

Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes

Tell myself it's time now, gotta let go

But moving on from him is impossible

When I still see it all in my head

In burning red

Loving him was red

24. The Last Time (Red)

didja miss me? (something tentative; something a little bit hopeful on both sides)

Find myself at your door

Just like all those times before

I’m not sure how I got there

All roads they lead me here

I imagine you are home

In your room, all alone

And you open your eyes into mine

And everything feels better

25. The Archer (Lover)

kent tries to extend an olive branch but it’s still covered in thorns

Combat, I'm ready for combat

I say I don't want that, but what if I do?

'Cause cruelty wins in the movies

I've got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you

…

I've been the archer, I've been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling

But who could stay?

…

And I cut off my nose just to spite my face

Then I hate my reflection for years and years

26. Bad Blood (1989)

jack’s answer to kent’s wounded lashing out

Oh, it's so sad to

Think about the good times

You and I

…

’Cause baby, now we've got bad blood

You know it used to be mad love

So take a look what you've done

’Cause baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!

27. Breathe (Fearless)

kent, driving away from epikegster

I see your face in my mind as I drive away

'Cause none of us thought it was gonna end that way

People are people and sometimes we change our minds

But it's killing me to see you go after all this time

…

And we know it's never simple, never easy

Never a clean break, no one here to save me

You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand

…

And I can't breathe without you, but I have to

Breathe without you but I have to

28. All Too Well (Red)

despite all the pain, there’s an irresistible nostalgia for what they had all those years ago—for when things were so much simpler

Maybe we got lost in translation

Maybe I asked for too much

But maybe this thing was a masterpiece

'Til you tore it all up

Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well

And you call me up again just to break me like a promise

So casually cruel in the name of being honest

I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here

'Cause I remember it all, all, all

Too well

…

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it

I'd like to be my old self again

But I'm still trying to find it

Interlude 2: Kent

29. Fifteen (Fearless)

a memory, a reflection

'Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you

You're gonna believe them

And when you're fifteen and your first kiss

Makes your head spin 'round

But in your life you'll do things greater than

Dating the boy on the football team

But I didn't know it at fifteen

…

When all you wanted was to be wanted

Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now

Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday

But I realized some bigger dreams of mine

Act 5: Moving On, Growing Up

30. Clean (1989)

finally learning to be his own person, separate from that shared past

There was nothing left to do (Oh-oh, oh-oh)

When the butterflies turned to

Dust that covered my whole room

So I punched a hole in the roof (Oh-oh, oh-oh)

Let the flood carry away all my pictures of you

…

The water filled my lungs, I screamed so loud

But no one heard a thing

…

Rain came pouring down

When I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe

And by morning

Gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean

31. 22 (Red)

friends and freedom, and real joy in that this time around

It feels like a perfect night

To dress up like hipsters

And make fun of our exes, uh-uh, uh-uh

It feels like a perfect night

For breakfast at midnight

To fall in love with strangers, uh-uh, uh-uh

…

Yeah

We're happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time

It's miserable and magical, oh, yeah

Tonight's the night when we forget about the deadlines

It's time, oh-oh

32. So It Goes… (reputation)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

'Cause we break down a little

But when you get me alone, it's so simple

'Cause baby, I know what you know

We can feel it

…

And all the pieces fall right into place

Getting caught up in a moment

Lipstick on your face

So it goes…

…

I'm yours to keep

And I'm yours to lose

You know I'm not a bad girl, but I

Do bad things with you

So it goes…

33. Dancing With Our Hands Tied (reputation)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

I, I loved you in secret

First sight, yeah, we love without reason

Oh, twenty-five years old

Oh, how were you to know?

…

Could've spent forever with your hands in my pockets

Picture of your face in an invisible locket

You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it

I had a bad feeling

…

I'd kiss you as the lights went out

Swaying as the room burned down

I'd hold you as the water rushes in

If I could dance with you again

34. Wildest Dreams (1989)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

He's so tall and handsome as hell

He's so bad, but he does it so well

I can see the end as it begins

My one condition is

…

Say you'll remember me

Standing in a nice dress

Staring at the sunset, babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks

Say you'll see me again

Even if it's just in your

Wildest dreams, ah-aah, haa

34. Shake It Off (1989)

At the top of his game, at the top of his sport, and actually happy at long last

I never miss a beat

I'm lightning on my feet

And that's what they don’t see, mm, mm

…

But I keep cruisin'

Can't stop, won't stop groovin'

It's like I got this music in my mind

Saying it's gonna be alright

…

'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play

And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate

Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

I shake it off, I shake it off

Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, break

And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake

Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

I shake it off, I shake it off

35. Holy Ground (Red)

Remembering with enough distance and experience to appreciate what was, not ache from it

Spinning like a girl in a brand new dress

We had this big wide city all to ourselves

We blocked the noise with the sound of, "I need you"

And for the first time, I had something to lose

And I guess we fell apart in the usual way

And the story's got dust on every page

But sometimes, I wonder how you think about it now

And I see your face in every crowd

…

'Cause darling, it was good

Never looking down

And right there where we stood

Was holy ground

Act 6: Reunion

36. ME! (Lover)

reconnection, reconciliation, re-appreciation

I know I tend to make it about me

I know you never get just what you see

But I will never bore you, baby

(And there's a lot of lame guys out there)

…

'Cause one of these things is not like the others

Livin' in winter, I am your summer

Baby doll, when it comes to a lover

I promise that you'll never find another like me-e-e

37. This Love (1989)

an unexpected reawakening

Tossing, turning

Struggled through the night with someone new

And I could go on and on, on and on

Lantern, burning

Flickered in my mind, only you

But you were still gone, gone, gone

…

Been losing grip, on sinking ships

You showed up just in time

…

This love is good, this love is bad

This love is alive back from the dead, oh-oh, oh

These hands had to let it go free, and

This love came back to me, oh-oh, oh

38. End Game (reputation) (ft. ed sheeran as jack)

After all this time, there are things they aren’t ever going to let go of again, no matter the trouble they bring

I got a bad boy persona, that's what they like (what they like)

You love it, I love it too 'cause you my type (You my type)

You hold me down, and I protect you with my life

…

I don't wanna touch you, I don't wanna be

Just another ex-love you don’t wanna see

I don’t wanna miss you (I don't wanna miss you)

Like the other girls do

I don’t wanna hurt you, I just wanna be

Drinking on a beach with you all over me

I know what they all say (I know what they all say)

But I ain't tryna play

…

I wanna be your end game (End game)

I wanna be your first string (First string)

I wanna be your A-Team (A-Team)

I wanna be your end game, end game

39. You Are In Love (1989)

something real; something sacred; something to build a life on

You can hear it in the silence (silence), silence (silence), you

You can feel it on the way home (way home), way home (way home), you

You can see it with the lights out (lights out), lights out (lights out)

You are in love, true love

You are in love

…

You kiss on sidewalks

You fight and you talk

One night, he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says "You're my best friend"

And you knew what it was, he is in love

40. Change (Fearless)

when the two biggest hockey players of their generation come out of the closet—together—are in love with each other—it changes more lives than just theirs

So we've been outnumbered, raided, and now cornered

It's hard to fight when the fight ain’t fair

We're getting stronger now, finding things they never found

They might be bigger but we're faster and never scared

You can walk away, say we don't need this

But there's something in your eyes says we can beat this

…

'Cause these things will change

Can you feel it now?

These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down

This revolution, the time will come

For us to finally win

And we'll sing hallelujah, we'll sing hallelujah

Oh, oh

41. Call It What You Want (reputation)

When it stops mattering what anyone else thinks

All my flowers grew back as thorns

Windows boarded up after the storm

He built a fire just to keep me warm

All the drama queens taking swings

All the jokers dressing up as kings

They fade to nothing when I look at him

And I know I make the same mistakes every time

Bridges burn, I never learn

At least I did one thing right

I did one thing right

I'm laughing with my lover, makin' forts under covers

Trust him like a brother

Yeah, you know I did one thing right

Starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night

…

My baby's fit like a daydream

Walking with his head down

I'm the one he's walking to

So call it what you want, yeah

Call it what you want to

42. Lover (Lover)

love

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January

And this is our place, we make the rules

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

…

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close?

Forever and ever, ah

Take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my lover

43. New Year’s Day (reputation)

love

You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi

I can tell that it's gonna be a long road

I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe

Or if you strike out and you're crawling home

…

Don't read the last page

But I stay when it’s hard or it’s wrong or we're making mistakes

I want your midnights

But I’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

44. Daylight (Lover)

Building a new life in the daylight

My love was as cruel as the cities I lived in

Everyone looked worse in the light

There are so many lines that I've crossed unforgiven

I'll tell you truth, but never goodbye

…

I once believed love would be (burning red)

But it's golden

Like daylight, like daylight

Like daylight, daylight

…

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night

And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

[bluejayblueskies]

philia

n. a love between friends; based on mutual respect, common values, shared desires, and unwavering trust

Words: 2.5k Relationship: Sasha James & Tim Stoker, past Sasha James/Tim Stoker Tags: Light Angst, Canon Compliant, Aromantic Sasha James, Lovers to Friends, Awkward Conversations Warnings: internalized arophobia (throughout), fear of arophobia from another character (doesn’t actually occur)

|| Ao3 ||

.

If one thing could be said about Sasha James, it’s this: she doesn’t scare easy. All the traditional spooks—spiders and the dark and heights and everything in between—don’t send her heart racing like they did some of her childhood friends, and when she was old enough to go to the library by herself, she slowly and methodically worked her way through the meager horror section at her disposal. She liked the way that the fear tasted, metallic in her mouth and sending gooseflesh tingling across her arms and lips, and even when she landed on a book or a movie that pushed her beyond her limits for terror, she found that she couldn’t look away, too immersed in the way that her hands shook as she turned the page.

 Maybe that’s why she ended up at the Magnus Institute. When the horror began to feel stale, each story contrived beyond the point of enjoyment, where better to turn to than somewhere that collected horrors that were real?

Sasha lasted three months in Artifact Storage before she decided that she’d finally found her limit, and it was gold monocles that turned your sight inward and stainless steel knives that leaked briny blood and a chalkboard eraser that could peel the skin clean off your face with a single stroke. Her brand of horror lay in stories, not in things, she decided then. In stories, at least, the fear was contained.

 The problem, though, is that it’s easy to not be afraid of stories. Even if they’re real ones, told by real people, they’re still just stories, and so Sasha can separate herself from them, lock them away in the Institute at night and return to the more mundane horrors of her television screen or her bookshelf. It’s much, much harder to not be afraid of the things she can’t escape.

 Sasha James doesn’t scare easy. But when she walks into the Institute on Monday morning and sees Timothy Stoker sitting at his desk, positioned opposite to hers and in the perfect location for mid-day glances and snippets of conversation, her heart jumps into her throat so fast she thinks she might choke on it.

 Sasha puts on her headphones, sits down at her desk, and doesn’t let her eyes stray from her computer screen for the rest of the day.

 And the next.

 And the next.

 Fear is a funny thing, she thinks as she stands in the shower that Friday night, letting the water drum against the back of her skull and trying to figure out why even after fifteen minutes of standing in the scalding spray, her skin still itches with unseen dirt that she can’t quite rid herself of. It can spur people to go to lengths they never thought imaginable. Like Gregory Chavez, who found he could run nearly two miles at a dead sprint when chased by a thing that had once been his son but that now craved nothing but blood and terror. Or Biah Wynn, who found it within herself to burn her family home to the ground with her brother still inside when a sharp-tongued thing from her dreams told her to.

 Or Sasha James, who’s been avoiding her best friend for a week because she had sex with him and now can’t bring herself to admit that it was a mistake. Or, more accurately, to admit why it was a mistake.

 Tim probably hates me now, she thinks as she tips her head back and lets the water run over her eyelids, holding her breath as it trickles over her closed lips and hits her arms where they’re crossed over her chest in a protective gesture. And he’d be right to. I kind of hate me now.

 Sasha turns the shower off, laments for a moment the state of her water bill for that month, and readies herself for bed.

 She allows herself to continue this way for two more days before the voice in her head manages to convince her that don’t ruin a good thing is becoming more and more of an impossibility the longer she ignores the inevitably awkward conversation that they need to have. Her resolve finally breaks through the sharp static of fear Monday evening, when Tim pushes back from his desk and Sasha says, breaking the silence with all the grace of a battering ram, “Fancy a cuppa?”

 Timothy Stoker doesn’t startle easy. At the sound of Sasha’s voice, however, he jumps so badly that the file folder he’d been preparing to stow away slips from his hands, spilling loose pages on the ivory tile floor in a mess of white paper and black ink.

 “Jesus,” Tim says, bending down to collect the papers. His eyes are cast firmly on the ground when he says, voice tight, “A little warning next time before you decide to break a week-long vow of silence?”

 Sasha’s wince is full-body. “Sorry,” she says, trying and failing to impart a week’s worth of apologies into a single word. Then, with forced levity: “Permission to speak again?”

 Tim’s quiet for a little too long. He’s collected all the papers and they sit limply in his hands as his eyes trace the lines between the tiles, lips curled down into a pained expression that Sasha hates, though she knows it’s nobody’s fault but her own. Then, quietly, he says, “I don’t know, Sasha. Maybe a week ago, the answer would have been yes? But I… I don’t know if I feel like talking now.”

 Thorns of Sasha’s own design dig into her heart and claw up her throat, and she fixes her eyes on the surface of her desk. It’s full of yellow post-it notes she doesn’t remember writing and approximately twenty stray pens and pencils and a million other things that are far, far less important than the man still squatting on the floor next to her, pretending to organize the papers in his hand.

 “Okay,” she says, and the word bites into her tongue with razor-sharp teeth. Then, even though she said she wouldn’t, she says, “I’m sorry, Tim. And I want to explain, if you’d let me.”

 Please let me.

 Tim looks at her, just once, and the hurt in his eyes cuts into Sasha like broken glass. “I… I just need some time,” he says, like Sasha hasn’t given him too much of that already, like she hasn’t already had the thought of I just need more time, more time to figure this out running through her head for days.

 “Okay,” she repeats. The smile she musters up feels hollow, too full of hope to hold up to scrutiny.

 “Okay,” Tim says.

 Tim leaves. And Sasha works late, if only to give her mind something to do that isn’t wallowing in guilt and self-pity.

 She works late Tuesday, too. And Wednesday and Thursday. Then, as her computer blinks 17:00 on Friday and she flips open another file, she hears from behind her a quietly amused, “You’re turning into Jon, you know.”

 If asked later, Sasha will maintain that she didn’t startle at the sound of Tim’s voice. The file, at least, stays firmly clasped in her hand, though she sets it down before turning in her chair to see Tim standing a few feet away, jacket slung over one arm and hesitance written all over his face even as his mouth forms a teasing smile.

 “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Sasha says, aiming for levity and coming close enough for it to count. “I don’t have nearly enough grey in my hair for that yet. Besides, you know I can’t pull off a sweater vest.”

 “Not with that attitude, you can’t.”

 Sasha smiles fully, letting tendrils of humor pull the corners of her mouth up toward her eyes, and the lines of tension in Tim’s face begin to smooth. The hesitance is still there, the hurt lying just beneath, but it feels a lot less like a wall and a lot more like a locked door. She just hopes that Tim still trusts her enough to give her the key.

 “Fancy a cuppa?” he says.

 They pick a little tea shop a few blocks away from the Institute, open later than the rest and with prices that only make Sasha wince a little bit as she orders a cup of jasmine green tea and then sits at a little corner table across from Tim, away from the hum of the rest of the café. He wraps his hands around his mug of Darjeeling, looks at Sasha, and says, “Is this the part where you say, ‘It’s not you, it’s me’?”

 Sasha winces and takes a long sip of her too-hot tea to cover it up. When she pulls back, the roof of her mouth thoroughly scalded, she says, “In… a manner of speaking.”

 It’s Tim’s turn to wince, though he doesn’t bury it in his tea, instead painting over it quickly with a mask that’s not so thick that Sasha can’t still see the hurt that lies beneath. “Right,” he says, and the little laugh that escapes him is entirely devoid of humor. “Guess that’s it, then. Nice and succinct—don’t know why it gets such a bad rap in rom-coms, to be honest.”

 The guilt is burning its way up Sasha’s throat, hot and sticky. It’s a struggle to force herself to speak around it, but she does, because it’s important. Because it matters. Because she’s not going to lose her best friend just because she’s afraid. So, she swallows the lump in her throat just enough to say, “It’s not because I don’t want to be in a relationship with you, Tim; it’s because I don’t want to be in a relationship at all. A… a romantic one, at least.”

 Tim doesn’t say anything at first, and though Sasha knows he’s just taking the time to parse her words, to understand what she’s trying to tell him—he’s ace, he told her before they… before, so he’ll know what she means—she can’t keep the anxiety from clawing up the back of her throat with acid-dipped nails. She takes a drink of her tea, and then another, until she’s staring at the bottom of her mug with her heart thrumming in the back of her throat. The sound of her own pulse in her ears is so loud that she almost doesn’t hear Tim when he says, quietly, “I’m sorry, Sasha.”

 Sasha sets her mug down hard enough to chip, surprise and guilt turning her blood to liquid nitrogen and her muscles to ice. “No, please- please don’t apologize, Tim, I should be the one who- I should have told you sooner instead of- of leading you on when I was never going to reciprocate. And then you told me you were ace and I- I still didn’t say anything because- because—”

 Sasha waves her now-free hand in the air wildly, grasping for a reason that just won’t come. Finally, for want of anything better, she lands on, “Because I somehow thought that was going to be the thing that you’d hate me for instead of for how I’ve been acting all week.” She deflates, ever so slightly, and says, “I am so, so sorry, Tim.”

 She affixes her eyes to the table, to the spiraling wood grains that trace lines across its surface, and doesn’t let go. She can think of a million expressions Tim might be wearing right now, ranging from guilt to sympathy to frustration to hurt, and she doesn’t want to see any of them.

 A hand, warm and terra-cotta brown, settles on top of hers, and Tim says, “I meant that I’m sorry for assuming that the reason you were avoiding me was about me. I should have asked sooner, but I…” He lets out a small laugh. “I suppose I thought you hated me. That I’d done something—though I couldn’t figure out what—and now you never wanted to see me again. And then I- I made it about me. Got frustrated when you wanted to talk. Didn’t even consider that there might have been something else going on.”

 “Why would you have?” Sasha says quietly, eyes still glued to the table. “I didn’t give you any indication that there was. I didn’t say anything.”

 Tim hums, a sad sound, and says, “I suppose neither of us did.”

 It’s quiet between them for a moment. In the interim, the sounds of the café filter in: the clank of cups against countertops, the hiss of steam as it spills free from stainless steel water heaters, the chatter of those around them who are lost in their own worlds of words and wants and wishes. Then, Tim’s hand tightens around Sasha’s, almost imperceptibly, and he says, “I’ll love you any way you want me to.”

 Sasha finally looks up from the table. Tim’s watching her, his eyes full of an affection so sweet it tastes of melted caramels on Sasha’s tongue. “I’ve loved you in so many ways, Sasha James, in so many times and places and moments. And I’m not going to give them all up if one of those ways isn’t something that you want from me. I’ll just put that one aside and replace it with new ones.” Tim shrugs and smiles, and it’s so casual, so easy, that Sasha thinks she must be dreaming it. “If you don’t want to date, then we won’t. And that’s not going to make me love you any less.”

 Sasha looks at Tim, trying to wrangle the tendrils of emotions within her into something beyond the electrifying, giddy happiness that she feels bubbling up in her chest. What comes out, in the end, is a small laugh and a quiet, “It’s that easy?”

 Tim holds up a hand. “Scout’s honor.”

 “Huh.” Sasha taps a finger against the edge of her mug, feeling the press of now-cool ceramic on her skin. The smile tugging at her lips is insistent enough that she finally just lets it slip free, uninhibited by shaking hands or acid claws or rapid-fire heartbeats. It’s still a nervous thing—a fawn just learning to walk, a baby bird pushed from its nest and struggling to unfurl its wings mid-freefall, a butterfly emerging from its cocoon with stained-glass wings and a life turned upon its head. It remains so for several weeks, through the still-awkward coffee runs and the times Sasha spends curled up on Tim’s couch with the space between them burning red-hot and icy-cold in equal measure and the staggering guilt that still returns as Sasha stands in the shower or lies in bed or walks through the doors to the Institute to see Tim sat at his desk, his smile growing wider each day.

 Then one day Sasha reaches for it, almost absently—that nervous feeling, the almost-falling swoop of her stomach—and finds it gone. She reaches and instead finds Tim, standing in the kitchen of her flat with flour dusted on his nose and kneading a ball of bread dough as he regales her with a story of his first tried-and-failed attempt at making bread that involved not one, but two separate fire-alarm incidents. And when she smiles at him, it feels so light and freeing that a laugh comes with it, bubbly with surprise and affection.

 She spreads stained-glass wings, strong enough now to carry her weight and beautiful in their own right, and lets the wind carry her home.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

September 1, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

Last night at midnight, a new law went into effect in Texas. House Bill 1927 permits people to carry handguns without a permit, unless they have been convicted of a felony or domestic violence. This measure was not popular in the state. Fifty-nine percent of Texans—including law enforcement officers—opposed it. But 56% of Republicans supported it. “I don’t know what it’s a solution to,” James McLaughlin, executive director of the Texas Police Chiefs Association, said to Heidi Pérez-Moreno of the Texas Tribune when Republican governor Greg Abbott signed the bill in mid-August. “I don’t know what the problem was to start with.”

Texas Gun Rights executive director Chris McNutt had a different view. He said in a statement: “Texas is finally a pro-gun state despite years of foot-dragging, roadblocks, and excuses from the spineless political class.”

The bill had failed in 2019 after McNutt showed up at the home of the Texas House Speaker, Republican Dennis Bonnen, to demand its passage. Bonnen said McNutt’s “overzealous” visit exhibited “insanity.” "Threats and intimidation will never advance your issue. Their issue is dead," he told McNutt. McNutt told the Dallas Morning News: "If politicians like Speaker Dennis Bonnen think they can show up at the doorsteps of Second Amendment supporters and make promises to earn votes in the election season, they shouldn't be surprised when we show up in their neighborhoods to insist they simply keep their promises in the legislative session.”

That was not the only bill that went into effect at midnight last night in Texas. In May, Governor Abbott signed the strongest anti-abortion law in the country, Senate Bill 8, which went into effect on September 1. It bans abortion after 6 weeks—when many women don’t even know they’re pregnant—thus automatically stopping about 85% of abortions in Texas. There are no exceptions for rape or incest. Opponents of the bill had asked the Supreme Court to stop the law from taking effect. It declined to do so.

The law avoided the 1973 Supreme Court Roe v. Wade decision protecting the right to abortion before fetal viability at about 22 to 24 weeks by leaving the enforcement of the law not up to the state, but rather up to private citizens. This was deliberate. As Dahlia Lithwick and Mark Joseph Stern explained in an article in Slate: “Typically, when a state restricts abortion, providers file a lawsuit in federal court against the state officials responsible for enforcing the new law. Here, however, there are no such officials: The law is enforced by individual anti-abortion activists.” With this law, there’s no one to stop from enforcing it.  

S.B. 8 puts ordinary people in charge of law enforcement. Anyone—at all—can sue any individual who “aids or abets,” or even intends to abet, an abortion in Texas after six weeks. Women seeking abortion themselves are exempt, but anyone who advises them (including a spouse), gives them a ride, provides counseling, staffs a clinic, and so on, can be sued by any random stranger. If the plaintiff wins, they pocket $10,000 plus court costs, and the clinic that provided the procedure is closed down. If the defendant doesn’t defend themselves, the court must find them guilty. And if the defendant wins, they get…nothing. Not even attorney’s fees.

So, nuisance lawsuits will ruin abortion providers, along with anyone accused of aiding and abetting—or intending to abet—an abortion. And the enforcers will be ordinary citizens.

Texas has also just passed new voting restrictions that allow partisan poll watchers to have “free movement” in polling places, enabling them to intimidate voters. Texas governor Greg Abbott is expected to sign that bill in the next few days.

Taken together with the vigilantism running wild in school board meetings and attacks on election officials, the Texas legislation is a top red flag in the red flag factory. The Republican Party is empowering vigilantes to enforce their beliefs against their neighbors.

The law, which should keep us all on a level playing field, has been abandoned by our Supreme Court. Last night, it refused to stop the new Texas abortion law from going into effect, and tonight, just before midnight, by a 5–4 vote, it issued an opinion refusing to block the law. Justice Sonia Sotomayor’s dissent read: “The court’s order is stunning. Presented with an application to enjoin a flagrantly unconstitutional law engineered to prohibit women from exercising their constitutional rights and evade judicial scrutiny, a majority of Justices have opted to bury their heads in the sand.”

Texas’s law flouts nearly 50 years of federal precedents, she points out, but the Supreme Court has looked the other way. ”The State’s gambit worked,” Sotomayor wrote. She continued:  “This is untenable. It cannot be the case that a state can evade federal judicial scrutiny by outsourcing the enforcement of unconstitutional laws to its citizenry."

The Supreme Court has essentially blessed the efforts of Texas legislators to prevent the enforcement of federal law by using citizen vigilantes to get their way. The court decided the case on its increasingly active “shadow docket,” a series of cases decided without full briefings or oral argument, often in the dead of night, without signed opinions. In the past, such emergency decisions were rare and used to issue uncontroversial decisions or address irreparable immediate harm (like the death penalty). Since the beginning of the Trump administration, they have come to make up the majority of the court’s business.

Since 2017, the court has used the shadow docket to advance right-wing goals. It has handed down brief, unsigned decisions after a party asks for emergency relief from a lower court order, siding first with Trump, and now with state Republicans, at a high rate. As University of Texas law professor Stephen Vladeck noted: “In less than three years, [Trump’s] Solicitor General has filed at least twenty-one applications for stays in the Supreme Court (including ten during the October 2018 Term alone).” In comparison, “during the sixteen years of the George W. Bush and Obama Administrations, the Solicitor General filed a total of eight such applications—averaging one every other Term.”

So, operating without open arguments or opinions, the Supreme Court has shown that it will not enforce federal law, leaving state legislatures to do as they will. This, after all, was the whole point of the “originalism” that Republicans embraced under President Ronald Reagan. Originalists wanted to erase the legal justification of the post–World War II years that used the “due process” and “equal protection” clauses of the Fourteenth Amendment to apply the protections of the Bill of Rights to the states. It was that concept that protected civil rights for people of color and for women, by using the federal government to prohibit states from enforcing discriminatory laws.

Since the 1980s, Republicans have sought to hamstring federal power and return power to the states, which have neither the power nor the inclination to regulate businesses effectively, and which can discriminate against minorities and get away with it, so long as the federal government doesn’t enforce equal protection.

Today’s events make that a reality.

Worse, though, the mechanisms of the Texas law officially turn a discriminatory law over to state-level vigilantes to enforce. The wedge to establish this mechanism is abortion, but the door is now open for extremist state legislatures to turn to private citizens to enforce any law that takes away an individual’s legal right…like, say, the right to vote. And in Texas, now, a vigilante doesn't even have to have a permit to carry the gun that will back up his threats.

During Reconstruction, vigilantes also carried guns. They enforced state customs that reestablished white supremacy after the federal government had tried to defend equality before the law. It took only a decade for former Confederates who had tried to destroy the government to strip voting rights, and civil rights, from the southern Black men who had defended the United States government during the Civil War. For the next eighty years, the South was a one-party state where enforcement of the laws depended on your skin color, your gender, and whom you knew.

Opponents have compared those who backed the Texas anti-abortion law to the Taliban, the Islamic extremists in Afghanistan whose harsh interpretation of Islamic Sharia law strips women of virtually all rights. But the impulse behind the Texas law, the drive to replace the federal protection of civil rights with state vigilantes enforcing their will, is homegrown. It is a reflection of the position that Republicans would like women to have in our society, for sure, but it is also written in the laughing faces of Mississippi law enforcement officers Lawrence Rainey and Cecil Ray Price in 1967, certain even as they were arraigned for the 1964 murders of James Earl Chaney, Andrew Goodman, and Michael Henry Schwerner, that the system was so rigged in their favor that they would literally get away with murder.

When they were killed, Chaney, Goodman, and Schwerner were trying to register Black people to vote.

—-

Notes:

https://thehill.com/homenews/state-watch/437665-texas-gop-leaders-drop-constitutional-carry-bill-after-gun-rights

https://www.texastribune.org/2021/08/16/texas-permitless-carry-gun-law/

https://www.npr.org/2021/08/31/1033068542/texas-voting-restrictions-bill-abbott-republicans

https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2021/08/texas-abortion-supreme-court-roe-wade.html

Mark Joseph Stern @mjs_DCBREAKING: By a 5–4 vote, with Roberts joining the liberals, the Supreme Court REFUSES to block Texas' six-week abortion ban. Opinions here:

s3.amazonaws.com/s3.documentclo…

3,936 Retweets5,180 Likes

September 2nd 2021

https://www.vox.com/2020/8/1/21350679/supreme-court-border-wall-trump-sierra-club-stay-stephen-breyer

https://www.vox.com/2020/8/11/21356913/supreme-court-shadow-docket-jail-asylum-covid-immigrants-sonia-sotomayor-barnes-ahlman

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[lochrannn]

Warnings: Sexual Content (M Rating)

Characters: Lila Pitts; Diego Hargreeves; Allison Hargreeves; Klaus Hargreeves; Hargreeves Siblings (background)

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Roommates AU; Fake Marriage; Slow Burn; Mutual Pining; Emotional H/C

Chapter 3/?

-

They end up avoiding each other for days. From what she can tell, Diego spends barely any time in the flat at all. She suspects he’s not even sleeping in his own bed most nights. And so she’s effectively all alone, except for the couple of days she goes to work in a small café, a job she basically does to keep busy, not because she actually needs the money.

On the first day she thinks she might find somewhere else to live, half out of wounded pride and half because she feels a bit guilty for apparently making Diego practically move out. But who is she kidding, money isn’t the obstacle in this city, the fucking housing market is. There’s no way she’d find a place like this, with a roommate who does his part to keep the place clean, has, so far, never brought people over, and in fact spends most of his time at work and out of the house, anyway.

And Lila liked– no, likes Diego.

In hindsight, the worst she can accuse him of is that he put his foot in it when he had ultimately been trying to do the right thing… if very badly. Apart from that he’s generally easy going, if a bit stressed out about work, from what she can tell, and… well… a lot of fun in some respects. He also really seems to care about people. He mentioned a brother one time, who he seems to look out for a lot, though he didn’t say it in so many words.

And the other night when she left her room after their argument, and the flat was completely empty, she found her abandoned sandwiches covered by an upturned bowl, and the considerate gesture made her feel even more foolish about how she’d blown up at him.

So yeah, she won’t be moving, but she does hope that things can just go back to normal between them, that she can at least feel relaxed at home, living with someone who she casually gets along with, who doesn’t hate her, and if that’s what it takes, she’ll even do her best to stop remembering what his lips feel like all over her body.

-

Lila’s a bit at sea in her life. She’s recently given up halfway through a post grad history programme and she doesn’t quite know what she wants to do now. And the long days doing very little, only broken up by the occasional hours working in the café and getting to deal with the full force of the public make for a very effective insomnia cocktail.

So Lila gets up in the middle of the night to make herself some chamomile tea.

The kettle has just boiled and she’s pouring the hot water over the tea bag in her mug when she hears Diego quietly come in through the front door and only making it to the couch before sitting down with a near silent sigh.

She really hopes, for all the trouble it ended up causing them last time that he’s not going to whip out his dick again.

She takes a cautious look out into the living room and spots Diego sat on the couch, leaning forward with his hands buried in his hair, shoulders hunched over and looking tense.

On a whim, Lila grabs another mug and tea bag, fills it with more of the hot water from the kettle and then picks up the two mugs and carries them out into the sitting room.

She’s not actually being particularly stealthy, but it seems Diego’s wrapped up in his own head, because he doesn’t notice her until she sits down on the edge of the sofa, leaving a respectful bit of distance between them, and he startles out of his hunched position and looks up at her warily.

Lila does him the favour of ignoring the brightness of his eyes and the way the corners of his mouth are drawn downwards, and instead holds out one of the mugs towards him and asks, with true sincerity, because this could be her chance at things going back to normal, “Tough day?”

Diego stares at her for a very long moment, not even studying her, just staring straight into her eyes, and in the end Lila sighs and is just about to put the mug on the coffee table in front of them, when Diego’s hand shoots out and he takes it off her.

“Yeah…” he says quietly while holding the steaming hot tea in both hands, elbows resting on his knees. He doesn’t take a sip though, he just stares into the gently swirling tendrils of steam.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lila asks carefully.

Diego gives her a sideways look, almost as if to gage her sincerity and then stares back at his mug.

“D’you think it would help?” he asks back. It seems like he’s both resigned to the idea that it wouldn’t, but almost hopeful she’ll say it will.

“Only one way to find out,” Lila offers with a shrug.

It’s ridiculous, really, how the tiny upwards quirk of the corner of his mouth affects her.

Diego pauses nevertheless and Lila waits him out. It’s not like she has anything better to do.

Then he sighs heavily and says in a low voice, “Had to tell a mom who hired me to find her runaway daughter that her kid got killed in a car crash six months ago…”

Lila watches Diego rub his thumb over the droplets of condensation on the outside rim of the mug and doesn’t really know what to say to that, so she goes with the first thing she can think of.

“That fucking sucks!”

Diego makes a noise that’s halfway between a harsh laugh and a sniff and just says, “yeah.”

They sit like this for a while, neither speaking, just sipping their slowly cooling drinks until Lila breaks the silence.

“What would you have done if you’d found the girl and she hadn’t been dead?” It’s an odd question, she knows, so she does understand why he turns to look at her quizzically, but it makes her almost squirm under his scrutiny nevertheless, so she starts explaining, “I ran away from home once…” but she doesn’t know how to finish the thought.

Lila ran away from home when she was sixteen and she hated everything about her life with her adoptive mother. Absolutely every single one of her material needs had been met and yet she had felt so lonely and so unloved that she had thought then, she’d rather live in squalor with just a scrap of affection from anybody than spend another day in that big empty house of her mother’s.

Diego stops staring at her and instead turns his attention back to his mug again, slowly moving it around in between his hands.

“I’d have asked the kid what she wanted to do next, that was the deal her mom and I had.” He turns to look back at Lila and holds her gaze. “She came to me, telling me her daughter ran away when they were living in a bad situation with the kid’s stepdad, but that she’d managed to get away from him now. I checked up on that info and it seemed legit, so if I’d found her daughter alive, I would have told her that her mom was looking for her and where she could find her… Shit didn’t work out that way though.”

He casts his eyes down to where Lila is fiddling with her own mug. She wonders for a moment how her life would have gone if someone like Diego had come looking for her instead of one of her mother’s semi-legal contacts.

Diego looks back up at her and something changes in his expression and Lila only notices that some of the tears that she could feel brimming in her eyes must have slipped out, because he lifts his hand up to her face and brushes over one cheek and then the other.

Lila makes a tiny noise that’s a bit of a gasp and a bit of a sob and she doesn’t know if it’s because of her own sadness or his gentle touch.

Diego’s hand lingers for a short moment on the side of her face and then he pulls it away abruptly, turns away from her, and facing forwards again he says tensely, “Uh, sorry for ruining your night with my sob-stories.”

The shift in the mood is too rapid for Lila to react and Diego must take her lack of a response as tacit agreement because he goes on, suddenly not able to look at her, “Yeah, uh, it’s pretty late anyway… are you done with that? I can take it to the kitchen with mine,” he asks carefully taking her empty mug out of her hands and then getting up off the couch at the carefully calculated speed that doesn’t quite look like he’s fleeing, but it’s also very clear that he’s trying to get away as quickly as possible, and heads back towards the kitchen.

Lila has no idea what just happened.

-

Diego’s lying awake in his bed.

The apartment is completely quiet, he’s had a whole mug of fucking herbal tea, and when he walked in through the door he felt like the only thing he could do at that point was sleep, but of course now he’s wide awake.

He doesn’t allow his thoughts to drift to Julie Brown and her mom because that’s just too devastating. He was only the messenger, he barely knows Ms. Brown, it’sjust one of those small tragedies that happen all the time all over world, and yet he feels like if he thinks about the lost opportunities and the terrible fucking timing of it all, he might just shatter.

But where his thoughts do drift isn’t actually that much better.

He did it again. Somehow he upset Lila again, even though all she’d tried to do was be a decent roommate, maybe even a friend to him. And if he could only keep his hands off her for five minutes, respect her fucking boundaries, maybe they still have a chance at some kind of cordial relationship.

Diego moves angrily about, trying to find a comfortable position. He punches his pillow to get it to co-operate but when he settles down he still doesn’t find sleep.

Consequently he is still as tired as last night when he drags himself out of his room and into the kitchen in the morning, and absolutely nothing could have prepared him for what he walks in on.

Lila is there.

As is Allison… as is Klaus.

His two siblings are currently arguing over something that Diego is too stunned to tune in to and he quickly glances at Lila to see that she’s watching their back and forth with amused bewilderment.

For a second he has to quell the urge to pinch himself to check he’s not wondering around a very strange dream, but then Klaus spots him in the door and claps his hands once and then says in that never quite sincere tone of his, “Oh Diego, wonderful to see you and how nice of you to join us! Want some coffee? I made some coffee!”

His brother swivels around in the small kitchen as if looking for something, and apparently Lila catches on because she turns to a cabinet above her head, pulls out a coffee mug, and as she moves back around to hand it to Klaus, their eyes meet. Traitor, Diego think and almost as if she can hear his thoughts, she gives him a half smile and a tiny shrug, and suddenly Diego’s stomach swoops and can feel heat creep up his neck. He hopes his siblings don’t embarrass him in front of Lila. Which is ironic, seeing as he’s been doing a damn good job of that himself.

Of course he has no such luck.

“Ok, I’m in a hurry,” Allison says tersely, looking at her wrist watch and then crossing her arms.

“Diego, we’re here because this is unbearable to watch. Clearly you are in debt, when you absolutely do not need to be. So once again, I’m asking you as nicely as possible: Would you please for the love of god, accept your fucking inheritence?” Her volume gets increasingly louder and by the end she’s thrown her hands up in exasperation. “I mean, you’re a thirty year old man with a failing business and you’ve had to resort to taking a roommate!” She adds a bit more calmly, “No offense, Lila!”

“None taken,” Lila says. But Diego notes that there’s a tiny edge to her voice that indicates she may have taken some offense. Diego can’t blame her.

“Jesus, Allison, it’s not the fucking nineties. Loads of people, in their thirties, live in shared accommodation, don’t be such a snob!” Diego is absolutely not in the mood for this ambush and he almost doesn’t care at this point if they end up having their weekly family argument in front of LIla. “Anyway, I renounced my inheritance!”

“Yes, and it was all very dramatic!” Allison adds, sarcasm in her voice. “But then your share reverted to us and we all agreed we’d hold onto it until you come to your senses, so just take the damn money, Diego!”

“I’ve told you before, but I’ll happily tell you again, if I have to, I do not want the old man’s money! Give it to Klaus, if it’s burning a hole in your pocket, I’m sure he can think of more fun ways to spend it than on loan interest payments!” Diego stares down his sister, but out of his entire family, she is probably the one who has never once been cowed by his quick anger.

“Oh I absolutely would,” Klaus says chirpily into the tense stand off.

“Urgh, whatever!” Allison says with an eyeroll and then pulls her arms apart and turns to Lila to say politely, if not particularly warmly, “Lila, it was nice meeting you,” but Allison doesn’t let her answer before she starts making her way out of the kitchen.

She stops right by Diego and the genuinely gentle hand she lays on his arm is quite the contrast to what she says next.

“Do feel free to come crawling to me when you can’t stand the taste of instant noodles anymore.”

She then leans up and kisses his cheek before disappearing around the corner and before he can decide to call a snide comment after her, Klaus is in front of him, handing him the forgotten cup of coffee and then also leans in to give him a delicate kiss on the cheek and he says, “Don’t be a stranger, Diego!”

“What are you talking about, Klaus, you basically never get in touch with me!” Diego responds with some genuine indignance, and a slightly dumb and puzzled expression passes over Klaus’s face and he says contemplatively, “Oh is that the case? Well, I’ll try and do better.” He pats Diego’s cheek, but in true brotherly fashion, it’s just a tiny bit too close to a slap, before following Allison out of the apartment.

When he hears the door shut, Diego suddenly remembers Lila and he turns back into the kitchen and for a second the words die on his tongue just from the way she’s watching him intently and with bright eyes.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, “Sorry about that! Siblings,” he shrugs uncertainly, “you know how that can be.

“I really don’t!” says Lila, her tone remarkably even, and Diego only realizes belatedly that there’s a tiny twitch to the corners of her mouth and it strikes him then that she’s trying not to laugh, “but that sure was educational!”

[haberdashing]

Transparent Closet

Jon and Georgie, both of whom are bi, come out to one another... in a way.

Written as part of @jonsimsbipride for the prompt “Solidarity”. Inspired by this post, though it portrays Jon as pan while this fic has him as bi.

on AO3

One of Jon and Georgie’s first dates was watching a series of mediocre supernatural-themed horror films together.

One of the things they’d first bonded over was their shared interest in the supernatural, after all (though Jon had never dared tell her of his first-hand experience with such things... and years down the line, Jon would learn that Georgie hadn’t dared share her own with him either), and what were schlocky movies for if not watching them together with someone you care about and talking trash loudly enough that the actual movie could barely be heard?

The lights were turned down (though not entirely off), Jon and Georgie sat pressed against each other on a couch that was either too small or just the right size depending on one’s perspective, and the movie marathon began.

After the night in question was over, Jon quickly forgot most of the details of the movies they chose to watch then--the titles, the storylines, even the number of movies they managed to fit in before conking out for the night--but one bit from the marathon stuck with him.

There was a lead actress in one of the movies who was pretty, but in a way that was clearly Hollywood trying to make her appear down-to-earth. The woman in question wore full makeup in every scene and was skinny and conventionally attractive and wore clothes clearly fitted precisely to her body shape, but her long brown hair looked a bit untamed and there was a speck of dirt placed just so on her cheek, so clearly she was just a regular person, right?

(In Jon’s opinion, the attempt fell well short of the mark, but he wasn’t terribly surprised; what Hollywood executives thought was normal and what regular people thought was normal were clearly two different things. Regardless, the actress didn’t strike Jon as his type.)

A few minutes into the movie, screams came from within a mansion that had been rumored to be haunted, and while most of the characters froze up or ran away, the lead actress took off her high heels and ran towards the mansion, her bare feet squelching in the mud with every step.

When that happened, Georgie tapped Jon’s arm and said in a stage whisper (as if they were in a movie theatre with others to disturb with their speech, instead of it just being the two of them snuggled up on that small couch), “Sorry, Jon, think we’re gonna have to break up now, that woman just earned my hand in marriage right there.”

Jon diverted his attention from the movie and looked over at Georgie, and he saw on her face when the realization hit her that she’d never actually confessed her attraction to women before. She didn’t look scared that Jon would reject her for it, though--that was one thing Jon always admired about Georgie, that she was never scared, never filled with the fear that consumed Jon’s own mind so frequently. But she watched Jon’s reaction to her statement almost as closely as he was watching her now.

“Surely we can work out an arrangement.” Jon replied after a brief moment. “She can have you on the weekends, perhaps?”

That careful scrutiny apparent on Georgie’s face melted away in an instant, replaced with a gentle smile. “Don’t be selfish, Jon. You can have me on the weekends. She gets the weekdays.”

“It’s hard not to be selfish when something so precious is at stake.” Jon reached for Georgie’s hand and gave it a tight squeeze. “But you’re right, fair is fair. Switch off every other week, then?”

“Hmm...” Georgie pressed the hand that wasn’t being held by Jon against her chin, as if she were deep in thought.

“And she can have you for the holidays.”

“Alright, sold.” Georgie pressed her lips against Jon’s cheek, and though the contact only lasted a moment, the warmth from the kiss was still enough to carry Jon through the rest of the night, his mind now filled with anything but the cinematic schlock still playing in front of him.

.

Jon was sitting on Georgie’s couch, listening to her rant about her troubles with a recent biology assignment, before she suddenly switched gears and asked, “So what have you been working on lately, Jon? Can’t be as bad as all that...”

Jon didn’t need to think twice about which of his assignments to discuss, not when one of them always seemed to be in the back of his mind at any given moment. “No, it’s quite interesting, actually. I’ve been working on an analysis of the book A Separate Peace--have you ever read it?”

Georgie hesitated for a moment, wrinkling her nose in thought before shaking her head in response. “The name sounds familiar, but I’ve never read it, no.”

“Alright, so-”

Just those two words emerging from Jon’s mouth were enough to put a wry smile on Georgie’s face--she knew what was coming, knew that Jon was getting ready to ramble on about one of his latest interests, and it warmed Jon’s heart to think that she was clearly looking forward to such rambling, a far cry from how his grandmother’s eyes had always glazed over when he’d tried to explain his passions to her.

“It’s about the narrator, Gene, returning to a boarding school he used to go to and reflecting on his time there, and specifically on his relationship with another student there, Finny--er, not relationship like that, they were friends and, and rivals... though actually, maybe like that too? There do seem to be certain- certain undertones, though maybe that’s just me projecting on Gene a bit too much there...”

Georgie raised an eyebrow. “Would you want to have a relationship with Finny, then?”

Jon looked down at the couch to avoid Georgie’s gaze. “Well, uh, I doubt Finny’d be interested in me to begin with, he seems out of my league...”

“You underestimate yourself, Jon.” Jon looked back up at Georgie just in time to catch the playful twinkle in her eye. “Besides, it’s a hypothetical. If the option were available, would you date Finny?”

“And if we weren’t already dating?”

Georgie let out a snort of amusement. “And if we weren’t already dating, too. Don’t worry, Jon, I’m not going to get mad if you’d date a fictional character.”

Jon thought about it for a moment. “...probably, yes, I would. Though he’s, uh, he’s sixteen. And dead by the end of the novel. So...”

Jon could swear he saw Georgie’s face blanche for a moment, but it was fleeting enough that he wasn’t sure it wasn’t just his imagination running wild or a trick of the light; the color returned to Georgie’s face in an instant, and any uncertainty in her expression was replaced by an exaggerated wrinkling of her nose. “That does tend to put a damper on potential relationships, doesn’t it?”

“Just a little bit.” Jon said, a bit of laughter sneaking into his voice.

“So how did this Finny die, anyway?”

“Well, it’s pretty much the climax of the novel, so to get into that, I’ll have to explain the rest of it first-”

Jon launched into a detailed explanation of the plot of A Separate Peace, and Georgie watched him with interest the entire time.

.

Jon didn’t entirely realize the implications of him admitting that he’d date Finny if given a chance until later in the night, when Georgie brought it up again during a lull in the conversation.

“So, if you’d date Finny-”

“Given all those hypothetical caveats, yes.”

“Right. And you’re dating me-”

Jon raised an eyebrow, schooling his face into his best semblance of surprise. “I certainly hope we’ve established that much.”

Georgie swatted at Jon with one hand, though the motion was slow and gentle and ended up coming just short of actually making contact with him.

“So you’re into both guys and girls, then. Do you identify as bi then, or pan, or-”

“Bi, yeah.”

Georgie’s face lit up at the words, her mouth stretching into a wide grin. “Same here! High-five? Wait, no--bi-five!”

Jon and Georgie both giggled a bit at that pun, and when Georgie extended her hand in Jon’s direction, Jon high-fived it without hesitation.

“Say, come next Pride, you can use the face paint I’ve got if you want, if it’s got cooties I dare say you’d have them already...”

Jon shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m not exactly a fan of face paint.”

“Really?” Georgie wrinkled her nose. “Ah well, more for me, then. I do have some old pins you could have if you want, too!”

“Only if you’re sure you don’t want them.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty to spare. Fun fact, covering a hat entirely with pins is not nearly as fun or practical as it sounds. Learned that one from experience.”

“Wait, you’ve got a hat covered with pins and you’ve been hiding it from me this whole time?”

“I used to have a hat covered with pins. Ended up taking them all off, and I had to throw out the cap underneath because it was so riddled with holes, and now I’ve just got all these pins hanging around...”

As Georgie kept talking about how she’d covered a hat with pins before and why she ended up taking them all off, a smile sneaked its way onto Jon’s face.

[royalcalum]

Anonymous asked: could you please write a part three because I love CEO luke AND  hey I know you’re like way busy but is it possible to have another part to CEo luke? you’re like majorly talented and I had to turn the notifications on for your blog BC I love itttt😇 AND Hi! Can you do a part 3 to CEO! Luke please? You are amazing thank you 😘 AND part 3 to the ceo! luke series please ? :) 🤯💖

Rating: Mature - don’t read it if you shouldn’t or I’ll tell your mom

Featuring: Luke + Reader

Warning: SMUT, slight angst

Author’s Note: STOP THE PRESSES CHANELLE IS POSTING A FUCKING FIC FOR THE FIRST TIME IN YEARS (I think it’s actually been almost four years if we don’t count the rewrite of a Dolan twins fic). Anyway... this is it for CEO!Luke. Here’s my sad attempt at trying to start writing fics again. You’ve literally been waiting years for this shit so I hope it’s worth it lmao

Part One

Part Two

The rest of the trip stayed fairly PG, just a couple PG-13 make-outs and the occasional R-rated touching. The sex stopped, though. I think Luke was scared of someone he could potentially work with catching on and dropping him. I’d like to say I’m the one who stopped it, but my internal conflicts couldn’t make me give him up. I knew what we were doing was wrong and could get either of us - most likely me - into a lot of trouble, but my mind was stuck between leaving him and risking my career. I couldn’t afford to lose my job over some guy. I needed to stop this train wreck.

This couldn’t end well.

Luke and I kept to ourselves during the plane ride back to New York. He was on his laptop looking at more graphs and data while I went through documents from the trip. It wasn’t until we landed that any interaction actually happened and by then, he knew something was up.

“Do you need a ride back to your place?” Luke asked, grabbing my bag for me. 

“I can just get a cab, it’s not a big deal,” I shrugged as I reached for my bag again. Before I could get a grip on the handle, Luke yanked it back and moved closer to me.

“Okay, what’s wrong? You’ve been acting different ever since the first night of the trip and I don’t want it to affect our work,” he said quietly.

It’s a little late for that. Our work relationship was already shot to hell, considering I couldn’t go a whole day without wondering whether or not I should ask for a… favor.

I sighed and stuck my hand out. “I can carry my own bag, Mr. Hemmings.”

“So now I’m Mr. Hemmings again?” he asked with a small pout. His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes explored my face, but he reluctantly handed my bag back. “At least let me give you a ride.”

“I can get a cab. I don’t want to bother y-”

“It’s not a bother, [Y/N]. Really,” he said sternly. His jaw was set and I knew I’d either have to let him give me a ride and deal with his interrogation now or find a way to avoid him at work later. As his assistant, that would literally be impossible.

The long drive to my apartment seemed to take even longer in the dead silence of the car. Luke would glance over at me every few minutes, but I refused to look back at him. If I let him in, it’d be even harder to push him back out.

The playful banter and late night story times and cuddle sessions over the length of the trip were not helping the crush I had developed on my emotionally unavailable boss, but this wasn’t something I could just let happen. People at work would find out, we’d get reported for breaking regulations, and I’d get fired. That was the only logical ending. It’s not like Luke would fall in love with me, especially not after just seven days of this charade.

We pulled up to my complex just as darkness started to settle over the city. I wasn’t necessarily in a dangerous neighborhood,  but it definitely wasn’t the safest either. Luke took it upon himself to play the hero and make sure I made it inside okay. 

“Luke, really, I’m fine carrying my own bag. It’s just the one,” I argued as he hoisted my bag out of the trunk.

“Just one that I can carry for you,” he countered.

I groaned and led the way up the stairs to my third floor apartment. When we got to my door, I unlocked it and stood in the doorway to block the way in and get my bag before Luke could find a way to get inside.

“Okay. I made it here safe and sound. I’ll take my bag now.” Luke clenched his jaw and set the bag at my feet, using the moment I bent over to grab it as an opportunity to push past me and get into my place. “Luke,” I grumbled. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to figure out what I did wrong!” he nearly shouted as the door fell closed behind me. “Last week and that first day of the trip, you were ready for anything. Then all of a sudden it went from amazing sex to touching to barely even kissing. What did I do?”

“You’re my boss, Luke. My boss! Whatever this is,” I said, gesturing between us, “it needs to stop. It’s unprofessional and it puts my future in this industry at risk.”

“You’re concerned about your job right now?” he asked skeptically. “[Y/N], I’m not going to revoke my reference for you just because we’re sleeping together and I sure as hell don’t plan on firing you.”

I rolled my eyes and let out an unamused laugh. “Right, because it’s not like you couldn’t find another assistant to fuck.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he said sternly. “Now I want an honest answer.” Luke stepped closer to me until my back was against the door and his face was inches from mine. “Why are you avoiding me?”

I took in a shaky breath, not wanting to back out last minute. Fuck, if he’d just take two steps back, this would be so much easier.

“I like you. And I don’t want to risk a professional relationship by getting personal feelings.”

He clenched his jaw again and let out a harsh breath, his stern expression faltering for a second.

“So you don’t want anything to do with me because you don’t want to accidentally fall in love with me?” he clarified, his eyes searching mine for some sort of fault.

“Yeah,” I nearly whispered.

This wasn’t going as planned. Oh god, this definitely wasn’t going as planned.

“Good luck with that.” Without a second of hesitation, Luke leaned in and pressed his lips to mine, gently grabbing my face in his hands. I knew I shouldn’t but, fuck, I had to. I kissed back and gripped the front of his t-shirt to pull his body closer to mine. “There she is,” Luke smirked, pulling back just enough for our lips to still be touching.

“Shut up,” I mumbled, tugging him to me and wrapping my arms behind his neck.

It was wrong. It was so wrong. But at that point, I didn't care. Fuck all the things I was telling myself; I couldn't give him up. I didn't want to.

Luke ran his hands down my sides, wrapping one around my thigh and hooking my leg over his waist. I bit at his bottom lip and smirked to myself when he quietly moaned in response. Even those simple sounds from him had an affect on me. He took this opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth, deepening the kiss and sending my mind reeling.

I tugged on the hem of his t-shirt until he moved back and pulled it over his head, his biceps flexing when he let it fall to the floor. His lips were back on mine instantly but I pushed him back and grabbed his wrist to pull him across the apartment and to my bedroom. He seemed surprised at first - at least until he realized where we were going.

Since I moved to the city, I had only had two men in my bed before and neither one remembered my name or stayed until morning, so bringing Luke - my own damn boss - into my bedroom was a change for me. Any concern about that was thrown out the window when he walked in after me and slammed the door, pulling my body to his and immediately jerking my pants to the floor.

I stumbled backwards until Luke grabbed me and picked me up, walking blindly around my room until his knees hit the edge of the bed. He dropped me so I bounced off the mattress a bit before he slipped his grey sweats off. A small laugh fell from his lips as he picked me up again, moving both of us to the top of the bed with his tongue on my neck.

I giggled quietly at the tickle of his growing scruff lightly scratching at my skin. Luke seemed to take this as an invitation and nuzzled his face further on my neck, pulling a full-blown laugh from me.

“Luke, stop,” I laughed, tugging on his curly hair so he’d look at me again. A bright smile graced those sinful lips of his and the look in his eyes let me know my whole don’t-fall-in-love-with-him thing was about to go to shit.

“Good god,” he mumbled, almost a whisper, before leaning down to kiss me again.

Any reservations I had about tonight completely dissolved as I let out a whimper at nothing more than his lips on mine. His right hand rested under the hem of my shirt, gently tracing his fingertips across my bare skin until he reached the fabric of my bra.

My palms pressed to his chest and pushed him back so he was kneeling between my legs. His little pout only lasted a couple seconds until I peeled my shirt over my head and reached behind myself to slide my bra off my arms as well. Luke stayed in his kneeling position even after I laid back down on the bed. He rested his hands on my thighs and stroked his fingers over my legs, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just stared at me, his eyes raking over my entire body silently.

“What?” I smiled, trying to fight back any feelings of self-consciousness creeping up on me at his unwavering scrutiny.

He paused his movements and looked me straight in the eyes, pinning me down with his gaze. I lifted myself up on my elbows and let my smile fall into a confused frown at his sudden change in demeanor. “Are you okay, Luke?”

He let out a deep breath and shook his head as it lolled forward to face the bed. With a small, forced smile, he looked back up at me with those big, baby-blue eyes.

“I don’t think you’re the only one who has to worry,” he finally said.

My breath caught in my throat at his confession. Two years of working for him and all it took was one week of more than paperwork for both of us to tumble down a ravine we didn’t see coming. I pushed myself up and maneuvered to kneel in front of him, enraptured by the deep blue pooling in his eyes. Both of my hands reached up to cup his jaw, my thumbs gently pawing at the rough stubble scattered across his face. He sighed quietly and leaned forward into my touch, his eyes fluttering closed at the contact.

“Tell you what,” I said, barely above a whisper. “Whatever we’ve got going on - we’ll make it work. Forget everything I said earlier. We both got more than we bargained for, but I want this. I want you, Luke.”

He opened his eyes and let a smile curl on his lips again. Just like before, he grabbed my waist and pinned me to the bed, his mouth on my neck instantly.

“There he is,” I joked, mimicking his earlier words. He bit the side of my neck, turning my faint giggles into quiet moans. I quickly pushed him back and groaned, “There he is, too.”

Luke replied with a groan of his own before grabbing his cock and lining up with me, slowly working his way inside me as if our previous nights weren’t enough of an expression of how he felt. I rested my hands on his shoulders as his forehead rested against mine, both of us unable to breath properly until he was fully sheathed inside me. I whimpered once he stilled above me, a faint “please” falling from my lips before he started moving.

His movements were slow and methodical, pulling out almost entirely before hitting deep inside. His lips enveloped mine; he only pulled away to take a quick breath or let out a quiet moan. My legs lifted and wrapped around his waist so I could pull him deeper. When I started bucking my own hips against his, he realized slow and methodical wouldn’t work the whole night.

Luke’s right hand wrapped around the back of my neck, the other hooking behind my shoulder as he jerked his hips forward - hard. I let out a loud moan at the sudden change of pace, the sound being muffled by Luke’s lips covering mine again. With his hands anchoring me in place, he easily had full control over my body.

The sound of skin on skin filled my room, barely covered by the sound of the street outside. My legs fell from his waist and spread open as he angled his hips to hit deeper, my head pushing back against the pillows behind me. Luke nuzzled his head into my neck, his breath on my skin sending a shiver down my spine right as the tip of his cock hit my g-spot. I whimpered at the sensation and pressed my nails against Luke’s shoulder blades, leaving distinct pink marks in their wake.

He abruptly pulled out and stood from the bed, yanking my legs so my body was across the bed.

“Luke!” I giggled, playfully grabbing at the sheets beneath me.

He smiled down at me before kissing me, effortlessly sliding back into me and groaning against my lips. I whined as he pulled away again to hoist my leg over his shoulder. He propped one of his knees up on the mattress and smirked at me, almost as a warning. I bit my lip as he slowly pushed as deep as he could get, quickly switching his pace and snapping his hips to mine. I didn’t even try to hold back any sounds. I knew my neighbors would hate me in the morning but with the way he was making me feel, I didn’t care. It was like he wanted me to be as loud as possible. He wanted to piss off the neighbors and break the bed and make sure I couldn’t walk tomorrow. There was nothing holding him back anymore.

Luke gripped my leg in one hand, letting the other press against my stomach so he could reach my clit. One of my hands gripped the sheets while the other clenched around Luke’s forearm. As much as I loved watching him, it was getting more and more difficult to focus.

“I’m gonna cum,” I whimpered, barely audible to myself, let alone Luke.

But he heard me.

“Cum, baby girl. Cum on daddy’s cock.”

I whimpered again as Luke repeatedly hit my g-spot, his hand still rubbing against my clit until my whole body tensed up at the rush flowing through me. Luke’s continued movements dragged my orgasm on, my pussy clenching his cock until he let out a quiet “fuck.” He fell onto his forearms on the bed, his rhythm faltering to a stop as he came inside of me.

Luke let his head rest against my shoulder, but kept most of his body weight on his arms to avoid crushing me. When he finally lifted his head his lips pressed to mine in a long, slow kiss. Neither one of us knew what to say, at this point. Everything that needed to be said had already been spoken, if not shown. We just laid on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, Luke still inside of me until his calves started cramping from the angle.

“Sorry, babe,” he said. “If you want to be able to do this again, my legs need a break.”

“Again?” I asked, standing from the bed and rushing to the bathroom to clean up the cum running down my legs.

“Oh, I’m staying over tonight,” he shouted from my bedroom. “And I’m calling in sick tomorrow so feel free to do the same.”

[sonamy-flashfic]

This was just a random idea I had that I wanted to write out and actually managed to sort of finish! It might not be super coherent, but it’s also not tied to a need to vent for once, so I’m going to just go ahead and count this as a win. 

(It might also be the longest so far! I’m not entirely sure.)

The Owl City title trend continues, this time with the song Can’t Live Without You! This is the sixth one in a row!

Can’t Live Without You Universe: Modern (Post-Forces) Word Count: 1473 Words

He thinks about leaving - really thinks about it, this time, instead of just disappearing. Something about the idea of just up and vanishing rubs him the wrong way.

It starts not long after the fight, when he mentions feeling a little stifled. He notices that Tails tenses before nodding along with him, so he sets aside any thought of leaving for at least a few more days.

Mostly, though, things are fine. Aside from Tails, his friends honestly seem a little confused that he's stuck around for more than a day or two - with one notable exception. 

Amy is avoiding him, which is pretty weird on its own, but when their paths do cross she barely acknowledges his presence. He can’t remember the last time she spoke to him with more than one-word answers.

Tails is a kid who missed his brother, and Sonic gets that. He missed him, too. It's why he's stuck around so long this time, it's why he doesn't complain when Tails finds his way into his bed and he wakes with the blanket half-stolen.

It's not that Amy isn't important to him - it’s the exact opposite - but he doesn't understand why she's acting like this the way he can understand Tails. Her newfound distance from him, both physical and emotional, stings in a way he can't explain.

They’re friends, aren’t they? Maybe something else, too, something a little harder to put into words. But they’re definitely friends, at the very least.

He mentions this to Tails, lying in the sunshine while the fox works on repairs nearby, that things are weird with Amy and he doesn't think he likes it.

"Y'know, Sonic," Tails comments, glancing back at him. "If it bothers you so much, why don't you just ask her what's going on?"

"Did you miss the part where she's avoiding me?"

Tails shrugs, turning back to his work. "That never seemed to stop her."

~

Trying to think like Amy is an interesting thought experiment. It's also kind of terrifying, so he gives up on it almost immediately. 

Instead, he thinks about how to get her to talk to him in more than one-word sentences.

The idea he comes up with is shockingly simple, so he starts wandering around until he spots her heading inside for the night.

"Hey, Amy," he greets casually, halting to a stop just in front of her with a grin. "Let's go for a run."

Before she can even answer, he's already picked her up and taken off, stopping not too far from their current base. He sits on the grass, leans against a tree, and looks over at her.

After a short, tense silence, she sits down a short distance away.

"Can we talk?"

She shrugs, not looking at him.

"Amy, please. I don't know why you're avoiding me, but I know I don't like it."

It's quiet for a moment, as she watches the sun setting over the horizon without so much as a glance in his direction. Finally, she speaks. "It's been months, Sonic. Everyone thought you were dead."

"I'm right here," he reminds her, brushing over his own memories of the past few months. "Still in one piece."

"For how long?" she asks, and there's just a bit of bitterness in her tone.

"Amy…"

He watches as she hugs her knees to her chest. "You don't understand, Sonic. Everyone thought you were gone… That we'd never see you again. Even I was starting to lose hope by the end of it. It was devastating."

He listens carefully to every word, trying to piece together the puzzle laid before him.

"And now you're here, but for how long? I can't watch you disappear again, Sonic. I can't take it."

She finally looks over at him, finally meets his eyes, and his heart drops. She looks like she’s been crying, probably because she has.

“What am I supposed to do?” she asks, a hint of desperation edging its way into her voice. “I can’t… I can’t lose you. Not like that. And I can’t keep wearing my heart on my sleeve just for you to break it.”

Is that really how she sees things?

“Do you remember what happened the last time I saw you, before all this?”

She’s staring now, watching him intently. He doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t, but he does remember. It’s the kind of thing that’s hard to forget.

He’d hoped they would never have to talk about it, though. That the whole world-ending catastrophe being over and done with meant they could avoid the personal drama, and he would never be forced to explain himself.

“And even now… After everything we’ve been through… You still don’t want to talk about it, do you?”

Yeah, okay. Maybe it isn’t fair, the way he’s been looking at this in his head, now that he thinks about it. She’s been avoiding him, sure, but he’s been avoiding the problem.

~

A few weeks before everything goes wrong, surrounded by fallen robots in a sprawling field, they stop to breathe.

It’s a split second decision, no coherent thought that leads to it: the fight is over, it’s just the two of them. He’s holding her steady, having caught her when she fell, and on an unexplainable impulse he leans forward to kiss her.

He’s not sure why. It just feels right, in the moment.

As that moment comes to an end, he pulls away, eyes wide; and he doesn’t stop running when she calls after him.

~

In the present, though, he's not going anywhere. It’s time to fix this. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s talk.”

She stares into his eyes, and he wonders what she sees. “Why did you leave?”

Not why he did it in the first place. Just… Why he left. It kind of feels unfair, because that’s the easiest question to answer, even if he still feels nervous doing so. “I was startled. It was just… It felt right at the time, and then... I didn’t know what to do.”

“So you did what you do best,” she says drily. Other than that, though, she keeps quiet and gestures for him to continue. His best guess is that she’s waiting to pass judgment.

They’re talking. This is what he wanted.

“You could say that, yeah,” he admits. “I… I don’t know why. It just felt right, and now everything’s wrong.”

There’s a curious expression on her face, like she’s looking for something particular and can’t quite find it. “Do you regret it?”

The obvious answer is that of course he regrets it, that this one impulsive kiss has cost him one of his best friends and that he misses her. But he forces himself to think it over.

And he doesn’t. The timing, maybe; his response, definitely.

“I don’t,” he says, and he’s telling the truth. “How I reacted to it, though...” She’s silent, so he keeps talking. “I’m sorry. I… I don’t know how to explain this, but you’re important to me and I miss you.”

Finally, an emotion crosses her face, a small smile as her eyes light up. Moments later, she’s hugging him tightly, and it’s gone from too much distance to no distance at all, and it feels like there’s probably a middle ground in here somewhere that they’ve gotten very good at avoiding. Something in between the death grips and the ocean of distance.

“Please don’t leave,” she whispers.

He wants to promise that he’ll never break her heart again, but he knows better than to make empty promises. Instead, he embraces the comfortable familiarity of her weight against him, and takes one of her hands in his own. “You know I can’t promise that. But I won’t just disappear this time, and I’ll try to do a better job of keeping in touch.”

She nods slowly, and she’s staring at him again, but there’s none of that bitterness or scrutiny that seems so strange on her. Just affection, plain and simple, and the world feels a little more right.

He’s staring at her, and he squeezes her hand. “Do you want to try again?”

It takes a minute for his words to register, and her confusion is - well, it’s kind of cute. “Huh? Oh! I, um… Y-yes!”

It’s been a good long while since he’s seen her totally flustered. Somehow, though, he doubts he’ll have to wait so long to see that face again.

He kisses her, and it feels right. When he finally pulls away she’s smiling at him, and he can feel himself grinning back.

There will be questions in the near future, probably, that he’s not yet sure how to answer. That’s fine. They’ll figure it out as they go.

For now, though, he’s happy to stay like this.

[ice-bjorn]

The Wounds We Share

Based off a speculative post I made a little while back: x

Upheaval, it seemed, was becoming a natural state in Arendelle.

As with the Great Thaw three years previous, it took a few weeks for things in the kingdom to settle once more- though this time there were no princes bent on regicide to deal with, or foreign dignitaries to pacify (or sever ties with). There was however, much in the way of paperwork and scheduling and announcements that needed to be made- while one queen stepped back for the moment, and another stepped forward to lead in her place.

And, just as it was with the winter storm that swept through the middle of summer on the queen’s coronation, the citizens quickly took to naming this narrowly avoided supernatural catastrophe. Elsa overheard everything from: ‘The Great Flood that Wasn’t’ to ‘The Breaking of The Dam’ and even- ‘That Time The Queen Unwittingly Set Off Another Magical Event’.

The last one made her cringe, but she certainly couldn’t deny it was true. Frankly it was a miracle that Arendelle was as populated as it was, considering the amount of otherworldly disturbances that had occurred in such a short time.

At least no one could say it was boring to live in their little kingdom.

However, unlike the aftermath of the Great Thaw, Elsa found a thread of her attention diverted elsewhere. Before, when she could focus all of herself on Anna and their reunion after so many agonizing years apart, now there was something else needling her thoughts, beckoning her scrutiny.

As preparations were hastily being made for Anna to assume her role as reigning queen, Elsa found herself ducking out in spare moments, summoning the Nokk to ride out across the waves, cherishing peaceful moments in the bracingly crisp sea-salt air. Sometimes, without realizing it, Elsa discovered that she (or perhaps the Nokk) had steered them towards the lonely glacier- that cold, austere beacon in the Dark Sea.

She came to understand that the spirits, and by extension Ahtohallan (though the will of the glacier was still difficult to parse), desired that Elsa should spend more time in the North, learning and communing with the unique forces that inhabited the land. Land that was strange, yet felt as though it ought to be familiar, as part of their mother’s heritage.

Anna was…hesitant at first, when Elsa mentioned spending more time away from Arendelle, away from her. Elsa herself had misgivings, after all- was there really a need for her to live in the North when she was already a short (water horse) ride away? Surely the spirits didn’t need her to function- they seemed perfectly capable and self sufficient without her interference. But, Elsa reasoned- this was also the chance to experience something different, to learn new things, and- if nothing else, she had a voracious appetite for knowledge. It was an opportunity to meet new people and experience their mother’s birthplace.

It was an opportunity, Elsa told herself, not a vocation which required her permanent relocation; ultimately her will was her own, spirits or no.

So, as they neared the third week after the events at the dam, Elsa began spending a day or two at a time in the North. Yelena was gracious enough to offer her a place in their camp among the Northuldra- somewhere to rest her head after days spent wandering the great expanse.

The primary focus of her curiosity and thirst for insight was Ahtohallan. What exactly were the limits of that primordial place, and what would it be willing to show her? Was there anything she could not ask of it?

She began by testing the glacier with requests for simple memories- Anna’s first birthday, the last Christmas they’d had all together, their mother reading them a bedtime story. Little things that were happy, if bittersweet; nothing that would sting too sharply to revisit.

When all these things were provided for her, Elsa moved on to more recent events. There was one in particular that had been lurking in the back of her mind- one that, if she were being honest with herself, should really be a conversation with another participant, not part of some voyeuristic exercise. Elsa knew that she and Anna still had things to talk about, heavy, important things, but in all the recent commotion, there hadn’t seemed an appropriate moment to broach everything that needed saying.

It wasn’t that they weren’t going to talk- of course they would. But, in the mean time…

Surely she could spare Anna the burden of recounting everything, she thought, crowding out the sliver of guilt that told her she wasn’t being as altruistic as she’d like to make herself believe. She let curiosity drown out the small voice that said maybe she shouldn’t ask to see this, that maybe, it wasn’t so harmless a request.

Elsa stood in the center of the ancient crystalline cavern and let her eyes drift closed, conjuring her question- and the desire for answers in her mind. She pictured the last glimpse of light before her world went dark, her last thought -Anna- before there were no more. And then after, when she’d regained consciousness for a moment during the fall- hitting the water below and knocking all the breath from her body- darkness eclipsing her vision once more as the sea claimed her.

Elsa shook her head, pulling back from that moment, focusing on the void between.

What had happened while she was frozen?

With the command firmly in her mind, her eyes flashed open.

“Show me,” she called out.

Slowly particles of snow and magic rose from the floor, swirling in a vortex of powder, higher and higher in an enormous cloud - until with a burst it dissipated, and shapes of sculpted snow gradually revealed themselves. Elsa stepped closer, cautiously skirting the edge of the scene until she was face to face with-

“Anna,” she breathed.

Suddenly, the recreation of Olaf began to speak- both figures coming slowly to life, gaining momentum as Elsa observed them.

“I see a way out,” he said, pointing up into the distance.

Elsa watched the bleached image of her sister and Olaf wander through outcroppings of rock, following behind as they rounded a corner- catching herself as she nearly bumped into the snowman.

She listened as they spoke to one another- speculating about Elsa and how she was fairing on her journey- and her heart began to sink in overwhelming dread.

“Anna, I’m sorry. You’re gonna have to do this next part on your own, okay?”

Elsa pressed a trembling hand hard over her mouth, stifling a choked gasp as her eyes stung with sudden tears.

She knew of course that Olaf had disintegrated once she’d been completely frozen- she’d felt what was left of him and the lingering essence of her magic after she had thawed. But this...

Watching as he flaked away piece by piece in front of Anna.

Oh Olaf.

Oh,

Anna.

Elsa’s vision blurred as Anna gathered their snowman into her arms, tears spilling silently as her sister whispered, “I love you.”

She sobbed and her legs buckled; Elsa sank to her knees, joining the ghost of Anna on the floor as she grasped the ordinary pieces that were left of Olaf, putting them carefully into her satchel with shaking hands and breathless tears.

She followed Anna as she curled against the rocky wall, hugging the bag to her chest desperately as she wept. Elsa sat, tucking her legs under her, mirroring the grief that stained the snowy cheeks of her sister’s image. She leaned against the wall of hard packed snow, reaching out an unsteady hand, unable to resist offering comfort -even to a memory long past. Elsa brushed the back of her fingers across a cold cheek- though the face before her did not register the touch, she couldn’t stop herself trying.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

She stayed there with Anna, for what could have been hours, yet felt like a single endless moment of sorrow, in which she struggled to breathe around the weight of her heart, heavy as a stone in her chest.

When Anna at last began to stumble to her feet, Elsa exhaled raggedly, expelling a sliver of the pressure from around her ribs.

“Enough,” she commanded with a wave of her hand, her voice thick and rough. The image of Anna flurried away, leaving Elsa alone in the cavern once more.

She pushed herself up on shaking legs, weighed down by her sister’s grief. Wiping a hand under her eyes, she cleared the last of the dampness from her face, sagging against the wall behind her. Elsa shut her eyes, gathering herself with a few deep, steadying breaths. She pursed her lips and whistled, calling on the bond she had with the water spirit, summoning the Nokk from the depths of the Dark Sea.

After a moment an echoing whinny sounded from the tunnels beyond, and the guardian trotted out to her. The spirit bent its watery head, nudging Elsa’s face gently. She lifted a hand to the Nokk’s muzzle, stroking a hand along its cheek, letting her magic frost the great horse over.

The Nokk nickered softly at her and Elsa smiled. “Thank you my friend,” she looked up into opaque, glowing eyes.

“Take me home.”

-

“Anna?” Elsa called softly through the door, just barely rapping her knuckles against the wood.

After a moment of silence she eased the door open, slipping inside and shutting it soundlessly behind her.

“Elsa?”

She turned as Anna propped herself up groggily, rubbing at an eye with her fist. Her sister reached over and adjusted the oil lamp on the bedside table; the small flame climbed higher, illuminating tousled hair and a confused smile as she squinted at Elsa.

Elsa blinked; the stark contrast between her very real, vibrant sister before her- and the snowy vision she had just spent the better part of the night with jarring her off center. She was suddenly very aware of the fact that she’d been crying for hours and had now barged in on Anna after racing across the sea in the dead of night.

She plucked at her fingers, wringing her hands.

“I...um, I’m sorry I know it’s late- early- I just... I -missed you,” she finished clumsily, uncharacteristically tongue tied. She couldn’t just blindside Anna with what she had seen in Ahtohallan after waking her like this.

Anna stared back at her owlishly and Elsa floundered, at a loss.

“Sorry, I should go- you should sleep, I’ll come back-“ Elsa motioned behind her at the door, already backing up and feeling quite embarrassed.

“Elsa,” Anna interrupted her, shaking off some of her groggy haze and throwing back the covers. “Get in here.”

Elsa smiled, relieved and grateful to have been spared her awkward exit. She made her way to the bed, slipping under the covers and curling into her sister’s sleepy warmth, leaning her head on Anna’s shoulder. Anna grabbed her hand, interweaving their fingers. She stifled a yawn, only just.

“You know you can see me whenever you want Elsa, you don’t need an invitation.”

“I know- I’m just, sorry about the time, I wasn’t thinking.”

Anna wiggled herself deeper into the bed, sinking back against her pillow. “S’okay. As long as you don’t mind if I happen to doze off for a bit?”

Elsa breathed a laugh into her sister’s shoulder. “Go ahead.”

She found herself selfishly relieved to have a few peaceful moments by Anna’s side, their inevitable conversation put off just a little bit longer.

-

Elsa felt Anna drift off- her head falling against hers with a quiet snore. She smiled to herself, brushing a thumb over Anna’s knuckles.

-

After another hour or so Anna began to fidget beside her, inhaling deeply as she stretched herself awake.

“Hey sleeping beauty.”

Anna wiped the sleep from her eyes and grinned at Elsa. “Hey.”

Her voice was still charmingly rough from slumber. Elsa straightened a few wayward copper locks- the ones that always seemed to escape wildly while Anna slept- and swept her fingers through her bangs.

Anna pushed herself up, fluffing the pillows behind her for support before leaning back with a yawn. She let herself fall slightly into Elsa’s shoulder, giving their clasped hands a little double squeeze.

They sat there in comfortable silence, enjoying each other’s presence in the predawn gloom, cozy in the heat and diffused light from the crackling fire.

Anna cleared her throat quietly.

“You know,” she fussed with Elsa’s fingers, doing her best to sound casual, “you don’t have to stay there in the North, you can come back, if you want to. You will always be a queen in Arendelle.”

“I know,” Elsa brought her free hand up to lift Anna’s chin. “But first... first I want Arendelle- and the world, to see how incredible you are as queen. I want them all to see how well you lead, how brightly you shine,” she slid her fingers along the top of Anna’s cheekbone, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “The way I do.”

Anna blushed and ducked her chin, pleased.

Elsa cocked her head, catching her sister’s eye, “It’s not forever.”

Anna looked back at her, nodding silently after a moment.

“Besides, there are still some things I have to learn from the spirits, and Ahtohallan. I’d like to spend some time with the Northuldra- learn more about them and mother’s family. You could join me sometime?” she offered.

“I’d like that.”

Anna rested her head on Elsa’s shoulder with a sigh.

Elsa focused her attention on their hands, brushing her thumb over Anna’s knuckles anxiously, knowing she needed to start the conversation she was really here for.

“You know... no matter where I am- where we are- Olaf was right… my love will always remain with you.”

Anna went ridged beside her. There was a moment of unbearable stillness, then-

“Elsa... how do you... know about that?”

She swallowed.

“I was… in Ahtohallan, and I thought I would ask it to show me a memory. I’ve been practicing, trying to understand the limits of that place and how it all works. There’s been a gap in my memory- everything that happened when you were saving Arendelle, saving me. I…I asked to see it.”

“…why didn’t you just ask me?”

Her brow drew inward, more guilt creeping in, hearing the hurt in Anna’s voice.

“There’s been so much going on and I was going to ask you- going to talk about this- but I didn’t think…,” she trailed off. Elsa wasn’t sure what she would’ve done if she'd known exactly how painful, how devastating it would be before she had asked for the memory. Would she have come straight to Anna- or would she have forced herself to watch anyway? Either way- that little voice in the back of her mind reproached her- she should’ve known better, and she should have given Anna the chance to tell her. “I didn’t think, I’m sorry.”

They sat, tense beside each other in the pregnant silence, avoidant gazes fixed on the bedspread.

“Elsa... you didn’t even, you didn’t even say goodbye. You promised me,” Anna gripped her hand, a little too hard, though Elsa didn’t protest. “And then you sent us away. Even Olaf...Olaf was angry Elsa.”

Elsa sat upright, turning back to look at her.

“Olaf? He was...angry?” she asked in a small voice.

Anna pressed her lips together, clenching her teeth against the memory of that moment.

“Yes. So was I,” she said, her eyes trained on her lap.

Elsa hung her head.

“Anna I’m so sorry,” she whispered thickly. Elsa swallowed, looking out the window, unable to meet her eyes.

She licked her lips.

“Mother and father,” she trailed off, brow furrowing deeply. “They died because of me. I don’t mean-“ she raised a hand before Anna could interrupt her, “that it was my... fault.”

It almost sounded convincing, though Anna knew it would be a long time yet before Elsa believed in her heart of hearts that it wasn’t.

“But they did leave to find answers about my powers, why I am the way I am. They couldn’t cross the dark sea; they... didn’t have magic.

I know how strong you are, how brave and determined, and resilient, but...I don’t think the spirits would have let anyone else near Ahtohallan. It was difficult enough for me, even with my powers...,” Elsa’s gaze grew distant, remembering the way the Nokk had tossed her through the dark sea, wrenching her around brutally like a rag doll, nearly drowning her.

She thought of Anna in her place- the water spirit pushing her into the deep... trapped at the bottom of the dark ocean under its hooves, no magic she could call upon to save her. Elsa’s heart spasmed painfully and she shook her head, clearing the ghastly image away.

“To let you walk by my side into that, when we had just seen mama and papa’s last moments in that awful sea, I just couldn’t,” Elsa’s eyes spilled over with tears. “You have every right to be angry with me, for as long as you want, but I couldn’t lose you a third time because of me, because of my magic.”

Elsa stared down at their hands while her sister remained silent. Anna’s fingers shifted, flexing, and for a terrifying moment Elsa thought she might let go, but she only readjusted her grip and took a deep breath.

“Whether it was right in the end or not, you took that choice from us Elsa. I know... I know that’s how you’ve always done things- you push me away to protect me. It’s second nature, I get that. But you don’t know how it feels being on the other side of it. Having the person you love most push you away,” Anna paused, swallowing roughly. “And then running, by herself, straight into the danger that killed our parents.”

Her jaw worked as she fought her rising emotions.

“And then Olaf was gone, you were gone... I was all alone,” her voice broke. She looked at Elsa as her eyes welled. The word unspoken hung in the silence between them like a hammer waiting to fall:

Again.

Elsa bowed low over their clasped hands, her body curling as if from a physical blow. Silver blonde hair fell in a curtain around her, like a shroud; her forehead pressed into the back of Anna’s hand.

Anna felt her sister’s tears against her skin, anointing their hands with her remorse. Each drop that fell another sharp nick that cut at her heart. Slender, pale shoulders began to shake; Anna held Elsa’s hand tight, fighting the desperate urge to pull her into her arms.

They shared the same pain. They would always share the same pain. But as much as it killed her to see Elsa suffer, knowing how prone her sister was to self recrimination, she needed her to see the damage her choice had wrought.

That her actions had opened Anna up to the darkness she had never before felt so viscerally. That even for the briefest of moments her life had stretched out interminably before her without Elsa in it. That she had been forced to imagine somehow going on with her heart missing.

Now they both knew and would carry their matching wounds, and eventually, scars. The intimate knowledge of loss shadowing their hearts, dormant but always lurking, like the sudden flair of an old injury long healed.

“I didn’t even know what had happened to you. All I knew was you were out there alone somewhere, and you were- that you had-”

Anna stuttered as the grief finally overwhelmed her, heavy and unstoppable, searing her throat as she tried in vain to hold it back.

“Elsa I thought you were dead,” she sobbed, crumpling under its weight now that it was spoken.

Elsa surged forward, wrapping her arms around Anna, drawing her tightly against her. They sunk back into the bed, Anna’s face pressed to the crook of her sister’s neck, clawing at Elsa’s back for purchase like a drowning woman grappling a life preserver.

She felt the void creep near again- that life without Elsa in it- the poisonous fear reaching infectious tendrils out to wrap around her heart. Anna crushed her closer, as if she might fuse them together, Elsa’s physical presence and their connection warding off the awful future that could have been but wasn’t, yet loomed over Anna for all that it had been briefly real.

She wept soundlessly, drawing breath in great shuddering gasps. Elsa hung on, her own tears slipping down silently into Anna’s hair.

-

They held each other as the anguish slowly subsided, battered hearts wrung through with exhaustion; sharing the same breath, existing in the stillness after the storm.

-

Elsa rested her chin atop Anna’s head, skating her nails lightly across her shoulder.

“What happened when I was... gone…,” she started quietly, breaking the heavy silence. Anna’s hands fisted in the fabric at the small of her back.

“I know what it felt like, that day. I know what you felt when you...on the fjord...”

“What do you mean?” Anna mumbled into her shoulder. Her eyes felt raw and puffy, her head full of wool. She was so tired.

“You were right, about Ahtohallan; I went too far. Mother wasn’t quite right though- I didn’t drown, I... froze.”

“Wait, what?” Anna murmured, pulling back to look at her sister incredulously. “You...but how?”

“I’m not sure. I suppose... because Ahtohallan is the source of my magic?” Elsa shrugged, shaking her head. “I don’t know. Unfortunately getting answers there isn’t always a straight forward experience,” Elsa’s gaze grew distant as the memory flashed through her body. “But now I know what’s it’s like to feel... cold.”

Elsa’s voice was haunted; Anna rubbed her hands up and down her sister’s back, as if she could chase away the memory of that terminal chill. How awful, Anna thought, for Elsa to be on the receiving end of her magic, to have it turned against her that way. She knew how dark and empty it was, how painfully the ice burned.

“I’m sorry you had to experience that.”

Elsa looked at her, gaze sorrowful and piercing with regret, and Anna knew she wasn’t thinking about her own death.

I’m sorry you experienced that, because of me.

Anna shook her head, dismissing her sister’s long absolved guilt. It wasn’t necessary to revisit that, certainly not now.

“Just... don’t you dare say we’re even now,” Anna sniffled, her voice wobbling.

Elsa shook her head and held Anna closer.

The sun had finally begun its morning ascent, and Anna’s now over sensitive eyes squinted against the light filtering in. Elsa extricated herself and slipped off the bed, crossing to the window to shut the curtains.

Anna pushed herself up sluggishly, swinging her legs over the bed, watching her.

Elsa turned, a hand still gripping the curtain. She observed Anna silently.

Stepping back towards the bed, the full, translucent panels of her dress fluttered around her as she knelt at Anna’s feet. Elsa took Anna’s hands in hers, contemplating them for a moment before she spoke.

“I have been an irresponsible steward of the love you’ve given me.”

She brushed her thumbs back and forth over Anna’s knuckles.

“I thought that because I have powers I could put myself in harms way to keep you safe. That as long as you lived, it didn’t matter what happened to me... you’ve always mattered more to me than my own life Anna,” she squeezed her sister’s hands when they twitched. “It’s true. I don’t think that will ever change,” she smiled ruefully.

“But, living that way, making the choices I have- that’s only ever hurt us both. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, or that I still won’t make mistakes but... I realize now; that has to change.”

Elsa looked up at Anna. “I’m so sorry for what I’ve put you through in my ignorance,” she whispered.

Anna drew in a shuddering breath, tugging at Elsa’s hands until she was on her feet. Wrapping arms around her waist, she leaned her cheek against Elsa’s breast, sighing at the steady thump beneath her ear. A moment later she felt a cool hand on the back of her neck and another softly combing through her hair.

“Well, you know,” she said weakly, “I’m not exactly perfect either.”

“I’m not so sure,” Elsa murmured, placing a kiss to the crown of her head.

Anna snorted quietly, shaking her head against her sister’s chest. She gave Elsa’s waist a squeeze.

“I love you.”

Elsa brushed her thumb softly over Anna’s cheek.

“I love you too.”

She gently guided Anna’s face back so she could look at her. “But as much as I love you, I think now I desperately need sleep. What do you think?”

“Oh god, yes please.”

Elsa chuckled.

While Anna settled back beneath the covers, she placed another log on the fire, now blazing warmly in the hearth near the bed. Winter was upon them, and while the natural cold still did not affect her, Elsa was now more acutely aware than ever of the little ways the weather could impact those around her.

She slipped into bed, opening her arms as Anna sought her out, curling against her.

“Comfortable?”

Anna mumbled something affirmative into her shoulder.

“Warm enough?”

Again, she received a muffled hum.

Elsa fought a smile, and before she could resist, she lowered the temperature of her feet, nudging them against Anna’s bare ankles.

Anna yelped, kicking her feet away, tangling her legs in the sheets as she tried to avoid suddenly icy skin. Elsa bit her lip, trying not to laugh as she banished the cold and her body regained its natural heat. Anna tapped her foot against her sister’s skittishly, making sure they weren’t freezing. She eyed her suspiciously before scootching back in with a huff. Elsa grinned sheepishly.

“Just making sure you were paying attention.”

Anna gave her a sleepy glare, spoiling the effect with an adorable pout.

“Don’t get cheeky, I’ll order you to the stocks.”

“We don’t have stocks Anna.”

“Well then I’ll have some made,” she grumbled, burrowing her face into Elsa’s clavicle. “I’m the queen, I can do what I want.”

Elsa dropped a kiss to the top of Anna’s head. “Of course, your majesty.”

“That’s more like it,” Anna smirked, snuggling into Elsa’s warmth. “Now as your queen I command you to stop stalling and go back to sleep.”

She felt Elsa’s quiet laughter, her ribs shaking beneath Anna’s arms.

“Careful you don’t let all that power go to your head. You might have an uprising on your hands, ordering people about like that.”

“Hah! I happen to know powerful magic people who would crush any uprising should the need arise.”

Elsa propped herself up on her elbow, observing her sister- eyes closed with haughty expression on her face.

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm. It is so.”

Elsa smirked and raised an eyebrow. “And what if I choose not to help you oppress the poor people of Arendelle?”

“Who says I meant you? Maybe I was talking about the trolls.”

After a beat of silence she cracked an eye open to look at Elsa.  

“Don’t make me use this,” Elsa held up her pinky threateningly. Anna went cross eyed as the digit inched closer to her nose, then batted it away with a giggle.

“Stop that. Seriously, we should rest- there’s still a full day waiting, as you well know.”

Elsa hummed thoughtfully. “True. But I also know that a queen has the ability to rearrange her schedule- within reason,” she added, seeing the mischievous look on Anna’s face. “I may have already let Kai know you’d probably have a late start and to shift anything pressing to this afternoon- or tomorrow if at all possible. I’ll help you with any paperwork you need to make up,” Elsa paused, grimacing a little. “Sorry, I hope that was alright- I should have asked.”

Anna beamed and squeezed her tight, until Elsa let out a soft wheeze.

“Have I ever told you you’re the best?”

Elsa looked down at her fondly, tracing the line of Anna’s nose with a finger.

“I’ve had an excellent teacher.”

[lynyrdwrites]

looked at death (in a tarot card)

This is to fill the bingo square “do you ever think of me” for @klaroline-events.  @goldcaught, this is the celebrity AU I was discussing with you.  Wrote while listening to “Dying in L.A.” by Panic! At the Disco.  You should listen while you read.

Also on AO3.  Listen to the song here.

---

It started like this.

She was eighteen.  She rode into the city with bright eyes and hopeful heart.  She had the whole world in front of her, and she can remember walking down the boulevard, looking at the stars, and thinking that, someday, her name would be there too. 

She was eighteen, and someone gave her a fake ID, and it gave her free passage into every bar in town. She needed that passage.  You didn't meet the people you needed to meet in daylight at Starbucks.  You met them in the dark while bands that were just as hopeful as she was played in the background. 

She was nineteen and had just finished her first speaking role - a tiny extra role, but the star of the whole thing was Meryl Streep - and she walked into a bar to celebrate.  She had friends, but they had already celebrated that night.  So she wanted this celebration to be just for her.  The place was all about music, no movie executives to be seen.  But on stage?

Caroline had showed up to L.A. with bright eyes and a hopeful heart, and part of her had wanted some of the magic of movies to be real.  She had learned in the year since her arrival that wasn't the case, but when her eyes met His?  She was a believer again.

His voice was low, and had an underlying accent to it, and she couldn't look away from him.  It might have been embarrassing, except he was looking right back, and even though she didn't fully register a word of the song, she felt like it was directed right at him.

In the end, he bought her a drink.

In the end, she went home with him.

In the end... that was the end of her life Pre-Klaus.

---

At twenty-nine, Caroline classified her time in L.A. to two strict categories.  Pre-Klaus, and Post-Klaus.  There was also During Klaus, two glorious years that she tried not to remember, because...

Just, because.  It was easier.

Just like it had been easier to walk away in the end, than to risk staying.  Just like it had been easier to agree to date Stefan at twenty-three and stay with him through six years despite relative indifference towards each other.

At least... she thought it had been easier with Stefan.

Until he decided to implode her life by getting caught naked with his brother's wife.

She hadn't been in love with Stefan, had never come close to believing he was in love with her... but she had thought they'd had a certain level of respect for each other.  A respect borne out of the fact that they had become Hollywood's It Couple and increased each other's careers exponentially.  Separate, they had just been two more pretty and talented people in a city full of people every bit as pretty and talented.  As Steroline, they had become the romance of the decade.  

It had all been a lie, but it had been a romantic lie that the world around them ate up.  And it had gotten them both jobs they might not have gotten otherwise.

All it required, was a bit of respect.  All it required was that they keep it in their pants.

Caroline had done it.  It hadn't even really been that hard.  She'd done passion and messy and she'd walked away from it, because she'd been too young and too new to stand up under the scrutiny it brought her.  She'd rather put forward the shining front that no one bothered trying to dig beneath.

And the whole time, Stefan had been screwing his brother's wife.  His brother's wife who was one half of Delena, a couple whose popularity might even eclipse Stefan and Caroline's, simply because they'd come from the same home town, and the idea of a childhood romance turned lifelong partnership was difficult to beat.

It was all about the story after all.

And so, Caroline had been in meetings with Stefan and his agent, and her agent, all of them putting forward ideas of how to fix the whole mess.  And their consensus seemed to be that Stefan would have a press conference, where Caroline stood bravely and loyally at his side while he announced that he had made a mistake, and they would appreciate privacy while they worked to salvage their relationship.

It was a load of garbage, and Caroline had listened to it and felt empty.

Not angry.

Not sad.

Not even a little annoyed.

She had just felt empty.  And then she began to wonder when that had started.  Because it hadn't happened immediately Post-Klaus.  During that time, she'd sometimes felt so full that she wasn't sure she would ever be able to fully remove him from her.  He had indelibly left his mark, and she'd felt broken by it.  But at some point, during those seven years, she had become numb.

So she had looked around the table, at the people who were fighting for something she didn't care about.  Something she was pretty sure she had never cared about... and suddenly she missed herself at eighteen, bright eyed and full of hope.  That girl had felt so much, and it had seemed awful at times, but it had to be infinitely better than this nothingness.

Caroline stood, and without ever once saying a word, she left them all behind.  At some point, the constant ring of her phone - Stefan and her agent trying to reach her - got annoying, so she turned it off and just kept walking around the city.

She tried to look at it with the eyes of someone just arriving, to see the promise and hope, but it just seemed... dull.  Grey.  Like any city on an overcast day, and she couldn't find what it was that had drawn her here so desperately when she was a teenager fresh out of school and fleeing Virginia and dead parents that had never really seemed to want her anyway. 

She turned her face away from the clouds and focused on the pavement beneath her feet instead.  

She didn't even realize where her feet had taken her, down streets that she had avoided for years, but that she still remembered so well.  And then she was there. 

It was a little run down compared to the clubs that had become her haunts in the years since that night she planned to celebrate.  But the old sign outside had the same name written on it, and when she pushed through the door, the interior was still lit just enough for the mood to be right.  It was the middle of the afternoon; the place wouldn't fill up for hours yet, but it had a regular day crowd that came in for food an whatever new band had scored a set on the stage that had created Klaus Mikaelson.

It didn't matter if it was a terrible time - every would be musician wanted to stand on that stage.

She looked to the stage as the first notes of a song that seemed familiar to her began to play.  

It was almost a decade earlier, and she was stepping through the doors for the very first time, and she couldn't take her eyes off of him, and the way he owned the stage, even as he played an acoustic set that would never sound quite right anywhere else. 

It was almost a decade later, and his gaze still found hers, as if it was that very first time.  And she couldn't look away.

She knew the exact length of the song.  She had listened to it so many times in the days after their first meeting, and then again throughout the years after they went their separate years, jaded and bitter and still so in love that she couldn't admit to anyone else that she still kept his albums, because it hurt too much just to say his name.  It was three minutes and thirty-seven seconds exactly.  But here, it would run three minutes and fifty-two seconds, because he liked to add some flourishes.  

Even as the last note sounded across the bar, Caroline began to walk towards the bar.  She knew the exact stool she had sat on that night.  There was a tear in it, one that had been mended, but it was the same rusty red color, and even though she hadn't sat on one of these stools in years, something about it still felt like coming home.  

Something about it made everything seem colorful again, even though the dim light of the bar meant it was even darker than it had been outside without the sun.

"Do you ever think of me?"

Those hadn't been the first words he'd ever spoken to her.  Those had been "let me get that" and it had turned into... her biggest mistake?  Her greatest regret?  It had been both and everything in between at different points over the years.

But that had been then, and no matter that she might have felt nineteen again for those few brief moments the song had played, it had been a sweet dream, but nothing more.  Years had passed, and this was now. 

"Every day," she replied, because even at their worst, they had never lied to each other.  They had said cruel, bitter words - but every one of them had been the truth. "Do you ever think of me?"

"I wrote an entire album about you, Love."

"That was five years ago.  It won you the Grammy." Caroline hadn't ordered, but the bartender brought her a rye with gingerale.  In front of Klaus, he put a glass of water.  "That's new."

"That's not," he nodded at her own drink.  "But Hank's never forgotten a drink order in his life.  If you'd prefer something else, best tell him now.  Perhaps a nice pinot."

Caroline took a sip of the rye, and tried to remember when she had ordered it last.  It had been years.  She had clung to it as the last reminder of a small town life, but somewhere along the way she had discarded that girl entirely.  She'd held too many memories, and Caroline had wanted to pretend to be someone else.  Someone that had never felt pain before in her life.

Stefan had never complained; he liked that he hadn't had to put any actual work into them. 

"I hear there's an engagement in the making," Klaus said after a few beats of silence.  "Congratulations."

"Tomorrow, you'll hear that there's a divorce.  Maybe.  I don't think any of my people have actually talked to Damon or Elena's people." She discarded the straw entirely and drained the glass, then tapped the edge, so Hank would refill it.  "He slept with her."

Another long pause, and then, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"No you're not," Caroline replied with an inelegant snort.  "I thought honesty was the one place we never went wrong.  Things really do change."

She sounded angry.  And bitter.

She was angry and bitter.

She should be angry and bitter with Stefan, because he was the one that ruined everything.  They'd had a good thing going, and he'd tossed it aside because he couldn't stay away from his brother's wife.  But she still felt nothing about that situation.

But Klaus... she'd felt many things for Klaus.  Nothing had never been in the cards between them. 

"I'm sorry he hurt you," Klaus corrected, and that, Caroline thought, might actually been true. 

"He didn't," she replied simply.  "I never gave anyone that power.  Not after you."

There were so many words unspoken between them.  They hadn't been able to say them back then, and now they were stuck in their throats and making them both choke.  Or maybe she was the only one choking.  

Klaus was just looking at her, the same way he always had. 

"I shouldn't have come here," she said as Hank gave her the refill.  But she didn't pick it up and toss it back the way she wanted to.  Because Klaus still had just water in front of him, and she wasn't sure if she was proud or hurt, and she was afraid of what words she would unleash on him if she had another. "I don't know why I came here."

"Don't you?"

He always smirked at her like that, when he thought she was lying to herself and he knew all the truths in the world.  It was a confrontational smirk that had always made her irate. 

"Why did you stop drinking?" she shot back with the same confrontational tone. 

"Because I didn't stop back then, and I lost you.  And when Elijah managed to pull me out of the bottle I was trying to drown myself in, he made me realize that if I ever wanted you again, I would have to pull myself out and face the consequences of what I'd done sober."

Caroline swallowed, and pushed her rye a little further away.

"You never said anything about wanting me back."

"I wrote an entire album.  And you never said anything."

She had been with Stefan by then, trying to ignore the album that had been everywhere, because she'd read it as a good-bye letter.  To what they once had.  In the end, she'd bought it, because ignoring it had been impossible, and Klaus had always had a way with words that spoke to her in ways beyond their relationship. 

"If I said I wanted you to take me away," she said slowly, testing each word out carefully as she said it.  "What would you do?"

"Where do you want to go?"

It wasn't a direct answer, yet it was.  Klaus had never been a pushover in their relationship.  There were things he liked to control.  He had his preferences.  But he'd always taken a sort of glee in giving her her heart's desire.  

"Can you take me back to who we were a decade ago?" she asked, heart aching with bittersweet memories.  "Give us a do over?"

"Do you think it would change anything?"

No, of course.  Because in the end, the issue hadn't been them.  It had been the bottle that was always between them, and Klaus had already started down that path before Caroline had ever met him.  It made her ache for the boy he had been before they had ever entered each other's orbit.

It made her heart ache for the naive fools they'd been, the ones that had met too late, and because of that never really stood a change. Not with who they'd been, individually and together. 

"I miss you," she said at last, and she found herself leaning into his side, his arm wrapping around her waist.  How many times had they sat there, just like that?  Too many to count.  "That's the real answer - do I think of you?  Yes, and I miss you."

"You've never been the type to run, Caroline.  Not until you've no other options - I know that best.  But if you'd let me, I'd stand by you."

"I didn't.  Stand by you.  You're being too nice, Klaus.  You're shitty at being nice."

His chuckle made his chest rumble, and she felt him press a kiss to her hair.  Part of her, the jaded part, told her this was just the magic of the bar.  That it had swept her back in time, but as soon as they left the bar, the world would be dulled again.

The other part of her, the girl with bright eyes and hope in her heart said that the world was never dull around Klaus.  It never had been - and L.A. had always been the city of second chances. 

"You would of, had I let you. But I was an ass.  I still am.  I'm just a sober ass with clearer vision."

And Caroline, who had stopped listening to that dead girl inside of her looked up at Klaus, and she'd done the one thing she hadn't done since the last time she'd been in this exact position.  She hoped. 

And she took a chance.

"Stand by me, then."

And outside, the sun broke through the clouds, throwing color back into a city that had seemed to be lacking it for far too long.