#source : burning pile // mother mother

[ciitedexcerpt]

All my style, all my grace; all I tried to save my face.

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // twenty-one

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 4.2k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: oh- you guys wanted them to be happy and in love in peace?? my bad. anyway, good a time as any to wish you guys a happy valentines day! lol

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

"Where are ya takin' those?" Lennox asks you as you're quickly scanning through your piles of books, pulling out one or two at a time and holding onto them.

"I will bring them to Coryo and Sejanus." You smile to yourself, standing up straight as you finish picking out most of your favourites.

"Coryo." Lennox scrunches his nose up. "Why bother? They can't read that many books in a week. Especially when he'll hardly get his hands off you long enough to do literally anything else."

"Oh, Lennox hush. That is not true." You shake your head pointedly, cheeks burning red.

"It is true."

You had kind of explained to Lennox what happened, that Coryo explained, apologized, and that you were wrong about him. Your mother was right, of course, but Lennox still wasn't buying any of it. Although, he wouldn't deny that you seemed happier.

"Ma!" You call out, coming out of your bedroom with the stack of books in your arms. Trying to talk to Lennox about this would never end in him actually listening to you.

"Just out back, honey!"

You follow her voice out onto the back porch. "Ma, do you know if there's a limit of things you can take on the train?"

She looks up at the question, laughing at the stack of books you have steadied under your chin.

"It's not a passenger train, honey. I don't know." She chuckles. "You want to give him all of those? Won't you miss them?"

"Well..." You think about it, placing them down on the ground to rest your arms for a moment. "I don't know when I'll see him again, and books are expensive to post. Besides, I know they'll be in safe hands, and if I want to read them again I can take them from the library."

Your mom smiles sadly at you. "I suppose that's true."

"Yes." You grin, crouching down to pick the books up again carefully. "I shall go drop these off."

"When will you be back?" She asks, just as you're about to walk back inside.

"Uh, I'm uncertain, but I shouldn't be long! We don't have any plans."

"Maybe you should take your brother with you, he can carry those." She suggests and you sigh.

"No, Ma. He's mean." You pout.

"He only wants to keep you safe. Take him with you, please. He'll be driven mad here waiting for you to get back." She insists and you groan, dropping your head back. "I won't ask again, I promise."

"Okay, Ma." You relent, stepping back into the house and letting the door swing shut behind you. "Len! Ma says you're coming with me!"

"So... how do you know where they are staying?" Lennox asks you, half the books in his arms as you practically skip ahead of him.

"Coryo showed me the other day."

"Oh, he did. Of course he did." You can practically see him rolling his eyes behind your back. "Have you ever considered that he could just be using you? I mean-"

"Lennox, that's not a rational thought process. I have nothing that he would want, he already won his prize." You interrupt. "He just came here to spend time with me, we talked about that when I was in the Capitol."

"I can think of something he wants..."

"Lennox!" You turn on your heel, pointing a finger in his face so fast he almost stumbles as he stops. "That is enough. You have so little trust in me!"

"It's not like we haven't been down this road before!" He argues, and you quickly look around as he raises his voice. The path is deserted this time of day.

"And you don't think me capable of learning?"

"Clearly not! Him and Cole are practically the same person!"

"Don't you say that- I didn't like Cole and you know it." You narrow your eyes at him. "Coryo is different. He wouldn't hurt me."

"You do realize that those are like, the famous last words that every teenage girl ever has said and regretted it, right?"

"Do you just not want me to be happy?" You ask bitterly. That wasn't true and you knew it, but you were upset and you knew it would get your point across. He was being cruel.

"The opposite, actually! I just want you to think realistically about fallin' into the open arms of your 'knight in shining armour' who you've literally had nightmares about for weeks on end."

"I am not a child! I am an adult, and I am capable of making my own decisions." You spit. "He's not using me. He loves me, and I love him."

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll say that until-"

"Lennox you are such a.. boy!" You groan. "If you must know, if you must insist that I am so stupid, no, I have not slept with him. Is that what you needed so desperately to hear?"

"Gross." He mumbles, shaking his head with disgust. "I don't care what you do with your alone time, actually I'd really rather not know! All I'm saying is you need to be more careful."

"I'm not going to fight with you. You can trust my decisions or not." You grumble, turning back around to keep walking. He follows behind you silently, neither of you saying another word the whole walk there.

You knock on the door, taking a step back while you wait for it to open. You can hear your brother breathing behind you and it's driving you up the wall. You would drop off the books and send him home- maybe you would stay for a while, go for a walk, something.

The door creaks open and you smile when you see Sejanus. "Y/N!" He grins, opening the door wider for you to come in. "Coryo! Your girlfriend is here!" You blush at the term as you walk in past him.

You hadn't discussed any kind of title to what you had, the looming ache of him leaving again so soon holding you back from wanting to mention it. You assumed he didn't want to discuss it either, both of you silently agreeing just to enjoy the time you still had together.

"Y/N/N." Coryo grins, eyes lighting up as he enters the room.

"Hi." You smile, ignoring your brother pretending to gag behind you.

"What brings you?" Coryo asks. "I didn't expect to see you today, I was thinking of coming to see you myself."

"Yes, well, I went through my books and brought some over that I would like you to take." You look back over your shoulder as Lennox is placing the large pile of books on the dining table.

Coryo hums as he wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your head. "That's a lot of books." He chuckles.

"You don't have to rush through them, keep them as long as you'd like." You assure him. "I just thought they were some you may enjoy."

"I'm sure I'll love them." He kisses the top of your head. "Thank you."

You turn in his arms to look up at him, ticking your head slightly when you hear Sejanus speak quietly. Clearly, not to either of you. "Hey, I just want to show you something. Come outside with me?" And then the door is shut, and you and Coryo are left alone.

"What's he showing him?" You ask, and Coryo watches through the window as his friend and your brother circle around to the side of the house.

"I am not sure." He answers. Immediately, he's thinking of the note Sejanus had scribbled out for himself. It included your brother's name alongside the dates and times, and those dates were creeping up quickly, the seventeenth being in three days- if he had today's date correct.

"Coryo?"

"Hm?" He looks down at you again. "You were thinkin' for a minute there. What's wrong?"

You were always so concerned. All he had done was take a moment to think, and you seemed genuinely worried. Maybe there was something in his face that showcased his confusion. "Nothing, love." He assures you, but you don't seem inclined to believe it. "Okay, uh, just... Come with me." He grabs your hand, watching out the window to make sure they aren't coming back yet as he leads you to his room.

You step into the small space and smile. He wasn't here for long, but the room already had little touches of him. The bed was made, and there was nothing on the walls but the bedside table had the copy of Romeo and Juliet he had got for you, a folded-up note, and a comb for his hair he had yet to put back in his bag despite him not needing it anymore.

You turn to face him after he shuts the door, smiling. He almost looked normal here, now. Like he was getting used to being here with you, living your life. It certainly wasn't like what he left behind in the Capitol, but to you it was special.

"Y/N, I have something to tell you." Coryo says, serious with a lowered voice. He didn't want anyone to hear it, even though you were still likely alone in the home.

"Okay." You reply, feeling your brow crease as you nod at him. His tone makes you nervous- your heart skips a beat in your chest. For a moment, you feel trapped. Tell him what you need. He won't mind.

"Can you... can you move away from the door, please?" You ask quietly before he has the chance to speak again.

He nods, not wasting a second before passing you and you turn with him, now with the door to your own back. "Is that better? You okay?" He asks and you nod.

"Fine just fine." You smile, trying to be reassuring. "What were you going to tell me?"

"Right, so..." You watch as he runs a hand over his head, still in the habit of pushing back his hair. "I was in Sejanus's room the other day, and I found this note. It had two dates and places on it, and then your brother's name and that was it."

"Oh." That's the only thing you can think of to say. "Well... do you remember the places? Maybe he was just trying to remember Len's name?"

"I don't know, I was hoping you'd know more." Coryo sighs, reaching for the bedside drawer. He had written down what he remembered from the dates and times, because he did want to ask you about it. "But he's been leaving and coming back at odd hours, he won't tell me what he's doing. Is he with Lucy Gray?"

"I don't think so." You frown, shaking your head. "But they have been getting close."

"But that doesn't really feel relevant to the note, or your brother."

"No... It certainly doesn't seem that way."

"Here, so... I wrote it down. Uh... The Hob, August seventeenth at ten pm, and broken fence August eighteenth at four am." He reads off what he remembered enough from the note to write down.

You tilt your head.

"Does that mean anything to you?"

"Well, on the seventeenth The Covey is performing at the Hob, so maybe he planned on going to that." You explain. "But broken fence... there's so many of those around here I couldn't tell you. Although, four am is an incredibly odd time to be meeting anyone."

"That's three hours before our train leaves."

"Oh." You shake your head slightly. "That's very weird."

"I know." Coryo sighs. "He won't tell me either, I've asked if he has any plans that night and he said no."

"Well... We should go." You offer. "Tell him that we're going to the meadow that night, and we'll just go after him. See who he's with."

Coryo raises his eyebrows at you. "I didn't take you for the nosy type."

"Well, I'm a big sister at heart and if it possibly involves Lennox I have to know." You argue. "It could be dangerous. He's always had a few friends I didn't love."

"Are you okay to go back there? I can go without you." He offers.

"I'll be fine." You insist. It's more so out of necessity, you have no choice but to be fine. You have to know- you have to make sure your brother and friend are safe.

"Are you sure about this?" Coryo asks, stopping you outside the entrance to the Hob. "If you want to go home I can take you, I just want you to feel safe."

"I know." You give him a small, reassuring smile as you squeeze his hand. "If I need to leave I'll tell you. I promise."

He nods, taking one last look at you to make sure you still seem okay before he pushes the door open and you both head in.

The building is buzzing- as it usually is when The Covey performs. You smile at the music, letting Coryo pull you close to the side wall as he scans the crowded room for his friend.

"Do you see him?" You ask, and he somehow hears you over the music and shakes his head.

You frown, looking around as well. No sign of Sejanus, no sign of Lennox. Lennox isn't even old enough to be here, but he wasn't at home when you left- and it's not exactly hard to sneak in.

"There," Coryo says, nodding in the direction of the opposite side of the room. You follow his eyes, and spot Sejanus talking to someone you recognize. "Who's he with?"

"Spruce." You explain. "His sister is scheduled to be executed tomorrow afternoon." You add, leaning closer so no one else will hear.

You watch as they head toward the back hall, the same one you ran down just a couple of weeks ago. "Should we go after them?" You ask when Coryo doesn't reply and he nods, watching them as he pulls you down the outside wall toward them.

You make it back to the hall without Lucy Gray spotting you, as far as you can tell. Standing outside the door, you hear shouting. You watch Coryo as he clenches his jaw, shaking his head.

"Wait out here." He tells you, dropping your hand.

"No- I, I should come." You shake your head and he grabs your cheeks, lifting your head to look into your eyes.

"I don't know what they're fighting about but it doesn't sound good. Wait out here." He's stern as he gently brushes his thumbs over your cheeks. "Listen to Lucy Gray, just watch the door. Okay, love?"

"Okay." You agree quietly, slightly nodding.

He kisses your forehead before letting you go, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open and disappearing behind it.

You chew your nails as you wait with your ear to the door, trying to decipher who is inside with them. It's hard to tell with all the shouting going on, but you hadn't heard Lennox.

"Y/N." You hear your name, quickly jumping back from the door and turning to face the voice. "What are you doin' here?"

You chew your cheek, trying to avoid Cole's gaze. "Just waitin' for Lucy Gray." You lie, looking down.

"Ah." He hums, nodding slightly as he steps closer to you. "Where's your purebred Capitol attack dog?"

"What are you doing here, Cole?" You ask, ignoring his question.

"We got leave passes for the weekend." He answers. "Hoff said something about 'boosting morale'."

"That's nice." You smile nervously. "Well, I don't want to keep you, so..."

"You aren't." He smirks, tilting his head as he looks down at you. "I'm not gonna hurt ya, you know that, right?"

"I know." You say softly.

"We're friends, aren't we?"

"Cole..." You sigh, looking down again. "We talked about this I just... We're too different. I'm sorry."

"Oh, because you have so much more in common with that prick- right?" He laughs sarcastically. "He's Capitol! He'll never know you like I do. Honestly, I'm offended that you'd choose him over me."

"I'm not choosing him over you." You frown. "I already knew we wouldn't work before I ever met him. This is very, very different. I'm sorry."

"You are? Oh, I'm glad to hear that." He nods and you eye him suspiciously. "Maybe then after he leaves, you'll give me another chance. He's taking the next train, tomorrow morning, right?"

"I can't do that, Cole." You shake your head.

"That's an awful shame." The evil smile on his face doesn't fade. "I'll have no choice but to report your father."

Your heart drops. "My Pa hasn't done anything."

He sucks in through his teeth. "Well, suspicion is enough to charge, and I don't know... I get a bit of an off feeling from him. It's actually my duty to report any suspicions we have, so honestly I've been protecting you, and I'd like to keep doing that, you know?"

You finally picked up on what he was saying, and immediately could taste the bitterness of fear on your tongue, a metallic tang that seemed to linger in the air.

"So? Do we have a date?"

"Sure." You mutter through gritted teeth.

"Sweet, thanks for finally coming to your senses, bug." Cole smiles, patting your shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon!" He calls back as he walks away.

You don't even care what's going on inside, you can't be alone in this dark hallway anymore.

You pull the door open and rush in, but you're quickly stopped by Coryo's arm as he takes a few steps back, pushing you behind him. "What- what's-"

"She can't be in here!" Spruce spits at Coryo as you look past him, gasping at the sight of several guns on the table and the one in his arms.

"Listen, she's not involved." Sejanus promises.

"Her brother is gonna help us, it's cool. She won't tell." You look at Billy Taupe when he speaks, eyes wide.

"No- this is crazy." Mayfair shakes her head. "She's not coming with us. We're not bringing her or Lucy Gray. I'm leaving."

"No, they aren't coming. I just said I'd ask. Now she knows, so she probably should." Billy Taupe replies and your eyes flick between the couple. You had no idea what was going on, where he wanted you to go, and what this had to do with Sejanus or your brother.

"No! My daddy will have you all strung up for this." She throws her hands up and starts to walk toward the back door. Your heart is pounding in your chest as Coryo reaches for one of the guns.

"Don't!" You cry out, forcing yourself in front of him just as he aims the gun at her. At you.

"Y/N, you gotta move right now." He says quickly, and you hear her footsteps stop behind you.

You can only look at his eyes as they flit between anger, instinct, and fear.

"Coryo." You say, voice cracking and it's only then that you feel the tears dampening your cheeks.

The barrel of the gun is under an inch from your chest, and you can see his hands shaking as he holds the heavy weapon in his hands. He won't shoot you- he won't.

The world around you seems to blur as your focus narrows on the overwhelming sense of fear gripping you tightly. Right now, if someone asked where you were, you wouldn't know. You just as easily could have been standing in the arena. 

He doesn't dare move as he stares at you, eyes wide. He doesn't want to hurt you, but that's why he has to do this. He can't let whoever that girl was have you killed. Still, you stand in front of him. Shaking, but not moving. This was the girl he knew from the games who offered a rose to Coral who in the moments before was threatening her. The girl who so thoroughly hated the idea of bringing harm to others that her own mind blocked it out completely and replaced the story with something else. This was the girl who was willing to give up her life just to be able to give the other tributes an honourable burial that she knew they wouldn't otherwise receive. 

The girl who saw him kill another boy and despite all of that, still had it in her heart to forgive him.

You don't even hear Mayfair laugh and begin to walk away again, you only hear the gunshot that follows. You jump, immediately looking down to assess the damage. Coryo wasn't pointing the gun at you anymore, he had dropped his arms in defeat- and you had mistaken the loud noise for an impact you were expecting.

He didn't shoot you.

"What did you do?" You turn as Billy Taupe screams, eyes widening as you see Mayfair bleeding out on the floor.

"Oh god- oh god..." You mumble, stepping back until you bump into Coryo. He drops the gun back onto the table, pulling you into his arms.

"Don't look, don't look..." He tells you, turning you and pressing your head to his chest so you can't see anymore even if you wanted to.

You can't even make out what Spruce and Billy Taupe are yelling at each other over the sound of your blood pumping through your veins. Until the second gunshot.

You must be sobbing now, clinging onto the front of Coryo's shirt so tight your knuckles are burning. "You're okay, it's okay." He tells you. You don't know what's going on- you don't want to.

Coryo stares between Spruce and the body of Billy Taupe now slumped down next to Mayfair. He needs to get you out of here, now, but he doesn't know how. This has to be handled first.

He's letting you go only to grab your cheeks and get you to look at him. "Go back outside, you have to go back outside, I will handle this."

You can't even speak- can't even move. You try and shake your head. You couldn't leave him, not right now. You feel like you'd die the moment he ceased touching you.

The door slides open again, followed by an angry voice you know too well. "What the fuck?" Cole must have been watching you. He must have heard.

"No..." You cry, shaking your head. If Cole saw this you were absolutely all screwed.

"What the fuck did you do?" Cole shouts again. "Nobody fucking move! You're all-"

Another gunshot. Silence.

"Oh no, no, no..." You try and look behind Coryo but he doesn't let you, holding your head firmly into his chest again.

"It's okay. Don't look." He says again, staring at Sejanus who looks like he's panicking just as much as you are now.

"Why'd you tell them where we were? Now you've gone and screwed us all over! I just shot a peacekeeper!"

"He didn't tell anyone." Coryo defends him. "We followed him, Cole followed us."

"Fuck." Spruce sighs, throwing the gun onto the pile of others still laid across the table. "We gotta bump this up. We have to get Lil now, go tell Lennox to get the stuff and hide it for us like we said."

"Get rid of the guns and pretend this never happened."Coryo hisses. "And leave the kid out of this. It's too late for whatever plan you had now- we don't know where he is."

You can't even hear a single thing going on anymore. You're actually sure you might faint.

When you go from shaking to completely still in Coryo's arms, he knows you have. "Shit..." He mumbles, trying to steady you as your knees give out. He quickly readjusts so he can lift you with an arm under your knees and the other under your back.

"I gotta get her out of here and you have to move quick. Get rid of the guns. Now." He instructs, and surprisingly, Spruce listens. He throws the weapons into a bag and steps over the two bodies by the door before leaving.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." Sejanus cries, gripping onto his hair and breathing heavily. "No one was supposed to get hurt!"

"Sejanus, for once just shut up!" He grabs his attention from where his friend is staring at the dead couple, clearly losing his mind. Coryo doesn't have time for this- an unconscious girl in his arms and his friend looking like he's about to be in the same state in a matter of moments.

"It's all my fault..."

"All of this is your fault!" Coryo agrees, looking around at the mess of the room. "It's only gonna get worse if you don't pull yourself together."

"Oh, god..."

"If you breathe a word now, all three of us are finished. Just like in the arena. We came here to see her. If we go down, she goes with us." He holds you tighter to his chest as your hair falls over the curve of his arm, your head limp against his skin. "So now we have to go back to the house, gather all our shit, and act like nothing is wrong. We have to board the train tomorrow like nothing is wrong. Do you understand?"

"I- I don't know." Sejanus sniffs.

"Hey." Coryo says, taking a few steps closer. "Look at me. You have to pull it together. I know you wanted to go with them but now they aren't going. We've got to stick together. You won't get in trouble. I won't let anything happen to you, but you have to listen to me." It was obvious that it didn't matter that none of you pulled the trigger- being in the room was enough; especially when a peacekeeper had been murdered. If you were caught, you'd all be executed. "We're brothers, yeah? Brothers. Whatever you've done, I swear I will keep you safe."

"Brothers. Yeah." Sejanus mutters, still obviously in shock.

"Those guns were the only loose ends besides the four of us, so we're gonna be okay as long as we leave tomorrow." He breathes. "Okay? Not a word."

"O-Okay." Sejanus nods slightly, trying to keep his focus on the boy in front of him rather than their unconscious friend in his arms.

Coryo tried to give him a reassuring smile, but inside he was panicking too. They could escape it all on the train tomorrow, but now came the problem of what to do with you.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

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[sillyblues]

the ocean and the wind. (5)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ synopsis: tonowari is the ocean and ronal is the wind. where does it leave you?

ੈ✩‧₊˚ notes: reader is so lucky you have a support group but it's a good thing you are not that blind right?? anyways lmk your thoughts and which parts were your favorite i make sure to read all of your comments and rbs btw sometimes i just don't reply smts bc i got busy but yeah i appreciate every notes you leave!!

part 1 ✩ part 2 ✩ part 3 ✩ part 4 ✩ part 5 (here!) ✩ part 6 ✩ part 7 (final part)

The wind guides the ocean and wherever the ocean goes, the wind is there. The two cannot exist without the other for only together, they create the most beautiful peaceful calmness or the strongest violent storm.

Between the two, where does it leave you?

None. Of course, there is no place for you. You are nothing to them. You are not even a speck of particle that the air carries or the smallest piece of sand that the sea touches.

They were the source of your greed, your guilt and shame, but you were wrong. You are the shameful and disgraceful one. You who dared to overstep your boundaries. You who dared to desire them.

Humiliation burns your skin and chars your heart and remorse fills your lungs with smoke and suffocates you. You let it ablaze and reduce your heart to a pile of ashes and glowing embers that burn you inside out.

Your ache stings and brings forth droplets of salty tears that do nothing to extinguish your pyre.

"Ma’evi, what pains you so?" Your Sa'nok cradles you to her chest and sways you gently. Tears sprung out of her eyes as she puts your head on the crook of her neck. Like a furious river, you tremble and no rocks could stop your overflow as you sob.

Your muffled wails fill your home. You cry and cry undeserving tears you didn't notice when your father had come inside, only the warmth of another embrace and soft pats on your back.

“Cry it all out to us, my dear, and we will cry with you.” Do you dare to tell them? Do you dare to tell them of a horrible daughter you are? Do you dare to tell them of the sins you have committed?

“Let us see you, my child,” your mother tucks the strands of your hair that stick to your face into your ear. “Let us bear your pain instead,”

You don’t dare say anything and let their touch lull you to your sleep.

.

.

.

“The Olo’eyktan have announced that the Iknimiya will be held in a few days because of the auspicious sign of the return of our brothers and sisters,” your mother gently says as she cuts some food. You all sit on the floor as you eat. You didn’t want to eat with them at first, preferring to sleep the rest of the day away, but your parents have been concerned since your walls shattered in front of them. “Truth be told, your Sempul and I think you are ready.”

Your father hums as he offers you a bite from his hand and you eat it.

“Yes, we can see how independent you are already. You are even a greater hunter than I am now,” he jokes and your eyes waver at the effort he puts into making you feel better each day ever since your walls broke down in front of them. You smile and joke weakly in return.

“Am I now?”

“Mhm, an even better healer than me as well. I think you would make a great Tsahik,” you freeze at that. Memories of Ronal and Tonowari rush through your head and your hand trembles in place when you reached your hand for food. You quickly pulled back and lightly clasped your hands together, hiding your palms away from them.

Tsahik. Ronal is much suited for the position. She is more suited as Tonowari’s mate and Tonowari is more suited for her. Their bond is like no other after all. You would not be surprised should they choose each other when they complete their Iknimiya, Letsakx made a good job of waking you up from the blindness of their attraction for each other, which will happen soon. Very soon. And soon, you will have to live with your closest friends’ love that does not include you.

You hum, not daring to speak for fear you might stutter and they will hear the shakiness of your voice. They are very keen and observant. Perhaps they already have an inkling of what you feel. Of what you have thought. And what you have done.

“But Ma’evi, we are not saying this because we want you to complete your Iknimaya now,” your mother says as she takes the knife and plate away and gets closer to all of you three. She holds your hand in hers and looks at you with so much softness and your father squeezes your other hand with such gentleness that you feel yourself tearing up but you hold it down. “We do not want you to do it if you yourself do not feel ready.”

“Take your time, my dear, we will be always waiting here for you.” Really, you don’t deserve your parents. They don’t deserve a child like you. But the love they have for you is great and you find yourself squeezing their hands.

You find yourself letting them see you.

.

.

.

The day of Iknimaya has come and all of the men, women, and children had gathered on the central island. Many young hunters participated in this coming-of-age ritual. You are among them, along with your other friends and some you knew from one of your classes back then and of course, Tonowari and Ronal. They had been trying to get close to you, but you only smile painfully so.

“Are you alright now, [Name]? I haven’t seen you in so long!” Tonowari says to you with concern swimming in his bright blue eyes and your heart flutters at the thought that you were his subject of worry, but you are quickly reminded that you are not his. Ronal touches you and inspects you carefully as she circles around you for wounds that you might have. Your battered heart trembles under her keen gaze that looks only at you for the moment but you are quickly reminded that you are not hers.

“Your mother told us that you had gotten ill, are you sure you can join this Iknimaya?” your mother told everyone who asked about you an excuse for your absence. You realize that with you, they touch a lot and the ache grows for they caress you not because they want you as you want them. You smile bitterly.

“Yes, I want to do this,” you gently take their hands off of you, “Let’s talk again later, hm? My friends have been calling me.”

You send them a smile and return to your group of friends. You did not look back as you promised, despite the greed that claws you inside out. Your friends exclaim in surprise and joy at your presence. Some hug and some send a smile towards you.

But it’s okay, you think as you converse with them, this is a lesson you must learn and you would never dare to disappoint Eywa or everyone else again.

It wasn’t long until the ritual formally started and you find yourselves in the sea with water halfway up to your legs. The Olo’eyktan started his speech moments ago about the history and importance of your coming-of-age ritual, his gaze heavy with pride for all of you.

“Young hunters, it is time,” the Olo’eyktan says as he looks at each one of you, “It is time for you to become a true Na’vi. A true Metkayina.”

“Show us that you can handle the mighty and strong roars of the ocean by taming a Skimwing. Show us your worthiness by bonding with your spiritual brothers and sisters. Show us that you deserve the symbols inked into your skin.” He stomps and you all stomp. You all let out sounds of gruff and puffs with the tongues of the men out and the lips of the women pursed down.

Now, you watch as one by one, the names of the others are called out and they tame the Skimwing. You stare as Tonowari chooses the biggest one with the brightest orange spots that decorated its wings. You stare as he takes a quick glance at you and blinks while he turns away to look at Ronal. He sends her a reassuring smile and none for you. Your heart is silent as you watch him successfully tame his Skimwing and swim through the fast currents and return so proud and so imposing.

You stare as Ronal chooses the calmest one with calming green spots that adorn its wings. You stare as she looks at you with firm eyes that you could not read. She turns to Tonowari and nods at him. A part of you is scared that you do not know her well anymore and a part of you bleeds out at the confirmation that only Tonowari can truly see and understand her. Your heart fades away as you watch her gracefully soar and dance with the wind and return smoothly with such elegance.

Your turn has come and you look at the Skimwings that paid no mind to you. But there was one that looked back at you and swims slowly toward you. You let out a silent giggle to yourself. Would you let me see you? You hummed as you questioningly looked at it. It touches your hand with its head and makes you pat it as if saying, If you would let me.

You swing your leg over its body and sat on its back. You take your queue from behind and formed Tsaheylu with your Skimwing. The feeling momentarily blinds you before you become hyper-aware of the water that surrounds both of you, your weight on its back, and its feelings.

You both swim gently until the pace becomes faster. You both dive deep into the ocean and see the shoals of fish that swim past you, the sways of the underwater forests that glow so brightly, and the calmness of the water that leaves you breathless of its beauty.

You swim back to the surface and put your feet on its behind and crouch down, your grip hard on its tie. Your Skimwing jumps and unfolds its wings and you laugh breathlessly as you let the wind kiss your skin, its rustle cheering you on as you soar through the sky.

But it is time for you to return. As you come back, you immediately miss the ocean and the wind. After this, no more, you promised yourself, No more.

The bonding with the Tulkun soon followed after. Everyone went to the sides of their respective spiritual brother and sister and they all look so excited. Everyone was filled to the brim with joy but you, your nerves leave you trembling slightly.

Greetings, sister, you signed with a small smile hoping she would forgive you for only coming to see her today and not as soon as they arrived.

How dare you come at me only now? Is this what you see of me, just a way for you to complete your Iknimaya? Well, you are wrong! I will not bend over to your wishes so easily! she moaned in annoyance at you and sways you off gently.

You don’t think she could even bend but you just hugged her and buried your face against her beautiful skin that you would fawn at each time but you wouldn’t bring yourself to now. I’m sorry, sister. You don’t have to make Tsaheylu for me, I understand.

She pauses and was silent for a while.

…What pains you so, sister? Who dares to give you such pain? she hums at you, covering you with one of her fins and lets you hide. Tears escape your eyes and you sob silently underwater. Fear comes back and it overflows your lungs and shame burns your body hot despite the coolness of the water. 

Lend me your suffering and let me suffer with you. Let me see you, sister. You look at her in shock and disbelief. Despite that you have wronged her, she still wants to see you. 

She wants to see you. She wants to see your pain. She wants to see your fear. She wants to see your shame. Do you dare to let someone know of your sins? Your immoral thoughts and greed?

You look at your sister with only you in her eyes and she blinks softly at you.

You find yourself letting her see you.

She opens her mouth and you enter inside. Her queue comes down almost immediately and you almost laugh at how she truly wants to bond with you, even if it happened in an unfortunate circumstance you caused. You take your own and hold the end part of it, letting its tendrils connect to her glowing golden queue.

You close your eyes and your sisters’ memories rush through you. Her birth, her parents, her family, you see it. The joyous moments that contain you beside her, you see it. One particular moment was when you swam through the deep ocean and talked about the most mundane thing with her, lasting for even hours until you two have to breathe the surface’s air again. Her huntings as they travel outside your clan, you see it. Her first hunt without you and how she felt lonely without you by her side to congratulate you.

Now, you see her current emotions as she sees you. She’s distraught. Sad. In pain. But she is with you and your heart (or whatever is left of it) warms.

Oh, my sister, she whines and sobs. Her body vibrates and you feel yourself crying with you as well. My poor sister. You don’t deserve any of this. You don’t deserve this.

You think of the ocean and the wind once more, breaking your promise to yourself for the millionth time. The wind guides the ocean and wherever the ocean goes, the wind is there. The two cannot exist without the other for only together, they create the most beautiful peaceful calmness or the strongest violent storm.

Today, you have seen how great they are. And how well they suit each other. How Ronal’s grace matches Tonowari’s pride. How Tonowari’s imposing presence matches Ronal’s elegant strides. 

Today, you have seen what great Olo’eyktan and Tsahik will become. You have seen how far they are out of your reach and what your place will be for the years that will come by.

For between the two, there leaves none for you.

series-taglist: (tags in blue means tumblr won't let me mention you, please let me know if you changed usernames!) @totesnothere04 @ducks118 @narutoboi @yeosxxx @fanboyluvr @ladylovegood-69 @northsoulss @thatfictionalwh0re @ghostlyworld @toodaloo432 @lovefromjazzy @greendino7 @neteyamforlife @vermilionzombie @vxncxntt @adaiasafira @tsuteysyawntu @mooniequeen @eywas-heir

[whereismywizardhat]

Saw Glass Onion, and I cannot help but think about what the movie is trying to say.

Spoilers Ahead, you have been warned

The most obvious (and considering how November went in the year 2022) is the dismantling of the myth of the Tech Billionaire.  Miles Bron is a obvious Musk/Zuckerburg stand-in, with the former’s charisma and energy industry connections and the later’s assorted former business partners.

Miles surrounds himself with “The Disrupters” aka the shitheads.  Lionel the engineer, Duke the alt-right troll, Claire the politician, and Birdie the fashion model.  Science, Media, Politics, and Entertainment, four pillars of society each dependent on the smooth talking grifter with the pile of money for their own continued success.  Like with Knives Out, the politics of the four doesn’t particularly matter: Claire is mentioned to be a liberal politician, while Duke’s MRA talking points barely can escape his garage without being called out by his mother and Birdie mindlessly repeats slurs on social media with such regularity her assistant micromanages her phone.  Class solidarity matters more, 5% will protect the 1%.

Miles surrounds himself with these people, but he has no loyalty to them.  He powers his home with an unstable energy source that his engineer is sure is dangerous (because it’s hydrogen, the most explosive element), he has already convinced the politician to back his dangerous energy source, he assists the far right media guy in getting a new platform but does not platform him on his own network, and he intends to allow the fashionista to take the fall for their sweatshops.  

Coming out in a year where we have watched billionaires throw good money after bad in such ventures as “Worse VR Chat” and “Let’s Burn the Bird Site to the Ground”, it has never been more obvious the mediocrity of tech billionaires.  And here comes Glass Onion, which presents it’s Ersatz Zucker-musk as the most mediocre of them all: seemingly only having the talent to steal ideas from others and force others to repackage them.  A man so utterly devoid of creativity or talent that naturally everyone thinks of him as a genius.  A Cave Johnson level Moron.

The fifth guest, Andi, Mile’s former partner, represents Business but she’s also a black woman who was the true brains behind the operation, and thus was first discredited then murdered.  The Andi we meet is actually her school teacher twin sister, Helen.  Education, another pillar, and notably the only one is not beholden to Miles.  Tech Billionaires aren’t even beholden to Capitalism, but they are beholden to people educated enough to see through their snake oil.

And finally there is Benoit Blanc, our beloved detective.  He represent justice (notably, not the police), and notably while he solves the crime he cannot touch Miles.  White Privileged Billionaires never have to worry about Justice reaching them, they are insulated from it.  The only thing he can do is encourage Helen.

And Helen burns it all down.  No justice can be extracted from Billionaires, but we can burn their houses down, their own hubris practically guarantees that they will have left fuel everywhere.  After all, they are morons.

[azsazz]

Dead by Dawn (Part 12)

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, eventual poly!relationship, slow burn, undead, death, mentions of cannibalism.

Word Count: 2,871

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11)

_________________________________________

Day 194

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You sleep for longer than you should. By the time Azriel forces his eyes open, dry and gritty from the length of time he’s been asleep, the sun is almost overhead.

He shifts, stretching his aching limbs as he looks around the large living room. You’re still sleeping, face curls up into one of Cassian’s sweatshirts, blocking the bright sun streaming in from the windows. He can hear your soft breathing and for a moment he wishes he could see your face. 

Cassian is asleep on the recliner next to him. Feyre is no longer sprawled on the couch and Rhys is also missing from the pack before he remembers that they’re on watch. 

You’d found multiple bedrooms within the home but the frenetic energy had you all converging in the large room for bed, too used to being piled on top of each other for so long. Everyone was too bone tired to want to drag the mattresses into the room, and Azriel had suggested that it wait until you were all sure that this was going to be the place to stay for awhile.

He rolls onto his back, releasing a long sigh. His shoulder aches from sleeping on it all night, but it’ll surely pass.

Azriel lets himself lie for a few more minutes, and it’s weird. He can hardly remember the last time he’d had a lie in or had been left alone with his thoughts, without the impending end of the world interrupting him. He’s not even sure what to think about.

Head lolling to the side, his gaze wanders your way again. You look much smaller now that you’re all tucked up in on yourself, and he wonders for a brief moment how you’ve actually survived this long. With your less than great luck, stubborn ways, and injured leg. He winces guiltily at the thought. 

But he silently thanks the Mother for sending you and Feyre their way.

It’s nice having the both of you around, not that he’d ever admit it out loud, especially to Feyre. It certainly doesn’t hurt to have someone who knows how to patch up wounds in their group.

All in all, Azriel thinks you’re pretty well off. Cassian with his seeds, being able to give you all a real source of sustainable food once you find a place long enough to stay, even if he’s heard enough about them to make his ears bleed. Rhys, the natural born leader and always had been. He’d learned a lot about politicking from his father and it had come in handy in more circumstances than he’d thought. He would gladly follow his friend into a horde of zombies if he asked.

Feyre, who has found herself in a position of leadership as well, calling the tough shots between the two of you and on a mad chase through the country to find her sisters. Her loyalty had made him bristle at the beginning, but now Azriel sees that she’s a bit more like him than he’d bargained for, devoted to the people she trusts until the very end.

You shuffle, letting out a soft groan that sounds more like a pleased whimper and goes straight to his cock. Azriel squeezes his eyes shut, releasing a shaky breath as he tries to invision zombies with their abdomens sliced open and entrails falling out. 

You push the sweatshirt from your face, readjusting it further under your head as you blink your big eyes open, taking in the sun filled room.

“Morning,” you say, voice scratchy with sleep as you take note of Azriel. 

“Good morning,” Azriel greets, a ghost of a smile lining his lips, like this is a secret good morning made for just the two of you.

You yawn, closing your eyes again. “I don’t want to get up,” you groan, burrowing deeper into the comfortable sweatshirt.

“No one said you have to,” Azriel shrugs, and you look so soft and sleepy that his fingers twitch with the urge to pull you into his arms. “Got nothing to really do today, anyways.”

You hum in agreement, nearly already back asleep.

He allows himself to watch you for a moment, until Cassian rouses from his own slumber. He knows that he doesn’t need to look away but he feels as though he’s been caught, and those few minutes were just for him, as selfish as it sounds.

Azriel slips from his makeshift bed, a blanket he’d found in one of the rooms that wasn’t eaten by moths, and makes his way out the french doors leading onto the back porch. 

It’s where Cassian finds him later.

He’s watching Rhys and Feyre as they walk along the fence. Her head is thrown back in a laugh and Azriel can see Rhys beaming grin from two miles away. It makes his own lips quirk.

“Sleep well?” Cassian asks, joining him. His long hair is tousled with sleep, matted with other things and he needs it cut desperately, but it still makes Azriel want to pull him into a closet and tug at his hair as he forces his head towards his cock. 

He avoids making eye contact with Cassian before he acts on those thoughts. “Better than I have in a while,” he admits.

“Think this could be the place?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel shrugs, and it’s the truth. “You tell me.”

He hasn’t taken it upon himself to scout the property, so he doesn’t know the potential of this spot until he does so himself. Of course he trusts the rest of the group to be able to tell the difference, but for his own peace of mind he’ll need to walk the property and see what you’re all dealing with.

“It’s not too bad,” Cassian starts, grinning and waving to Feyre who is jumping up and down and waving at them like a madwoman. It seems as though everyone has woken up on the right side of the bed this morning but it leaves a weary feeling in Azriel’s gut. You shouldn’t all settle so quickly.

Cassian continues. “There’s a part of the fence that needs repairing, but other than that, it seems like this could really be the place, Az.” He has that glint in his eye, hope, Azriel realizes. Hope that there is actually a future that isn’t just moving around and searching for a safe haven that may not even be out there.

They can just make their own.

“How long do you think it will hold?” Azriel asks.

“Hard to say,” Cassian answers, tapping a finger to his chin as he thinks. They watch Rhys and Feyre begin to make their way back up to the house. “It’ll hold until we can fix it, if we do it soon.”

Azriel nods. “Alright. We should get the van today and look for supplies if we have the time. We’re almost out of water and some more food wouldn’t hurt.”

“Did someone say food?” Feyre asks and she and Rhys near. They’re standing close, arms brushing as they walk and Azriel can see the strain in Rhysands eyes as he wants to twine his fingers with hers. He scowls at Azriel when he catches him looking but the other man only rolls his eyes. “Where’s (Y/N)?”

“She’s still sleeping.”

“No she’s not,” you answer, sliding out of the door. You’re draped in Cassian’s hoodie that you’d been using as a pillow, despite the morning heat. You’re swimming in it and looking much more innocent than they know you to be.

You still look tired, and he’s sure that they all do, but all thoughts eddy from Azriel’s mind as you come to stand right beside him, the sleeve of your sweater brushing his bare one.

He tries not to overthink it.

“What’s the plan for today?” you ask, scanning the backyard like each of them had when they’d come outside. It warms his heart that you’re all picking up on each other’s quirks, his tendency to make sure everything is as safe as possible.

“Going to get the van and do a supply run,” Rhys says, thinking along the same lines Azriel had. The violet eyed man volunteers himself to go.

“I’ll join,” Feyre chimes in, and no one says anything about the look shared between the both of them.

“Me too.”

Azriel makes a face at Cassian but is torn between mentioning his leg and saying nothing. Instead, he and Rhysand meet eyes, and Azriel gives a slight shake of his head. He’d rather volunteer himself to go than let anything happen to Cassian.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to say anything because you’re already answering. “But your leg.”

Cassian sends an overexaggerated, dazzling smile your way. “It’s feeling better today, I promise.”

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea…” you trail off and Cassian relents.

“Fine, I’ll stay only so you can have your piece of mind playing nurse one last time,” he jokes and you laugh. “And I better get a haircut out of this.”

Your laugh splutters, mouth hanging agape, “What makes you think that I’m any good at cutting hair?!”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Hair lines the floor. You don’t know how you’d gotten suckered into playing barber but there’s a comb in one hand and a pair of scissors you’d found in a kitchen drawer in the other. Cassian had been the one to talk you into it, complaining about how long his hair had grown lately. You quite liked the look on him, especially when he pulled it into a knot at the back of his head, but he’d wrangled a chair into the doorway of the small bathroom and all but forced your hand to make the first cut.

“Just a few inches,” he winked and you gave in.

But now Azriel’s sitting in your chair, bullied into it by Cassian, though he didn’t fight the idea as much as you’d thought he would. With the larger man pulling at his dark locks, a teasing grin on his face, the glare Azriel had cut him at the time had made you look away, hiding the smile stretching across your lips at their antics.

What you hadn’t been able to pick up in that golden glare was the electricity that buzzed within them, the way the air between them shifted into something charged, the way Cassian’s gaze flicked suggestively your way and Azriel’s lips quirked.

Your comb slides through his dark, damp hair with ease, knots brushed out by your tender touch. He was more surprised at that than anything. Azriel had seen the way that you’d struck zombies and humans down alike, face set and hands worn with time spent in the end of the world. But with clean hands fingering through his locks he’d realized just how soft you still were. How you hadn’t lost that part of you like so many.

Like him.

“Almost done,” you breathe, snipping at the back of his head. He feels lighter already, and it’s not just from the way you’re massaging his scalp and threading your fingers through his hair. 

You make your way around him, placing your tools down on the counter as you do so, so that your hands are free as they slide into his soft hair once more and pull softly, measuring the length on both sides. Leaning down so that you’re eye level with him, Azriel studies you, fighting the heating of his cheeks every step of the way at the concentration on your face, even if you aren’t even looking at him.

He swallows roughly. He wants to untuck his hands where they’re folded tightly together in his lap, run them up your legs, brush the hair back that’s falling into your face, to do something. 

“It looks pretty even to me,” you murmur, sliding your fingers into the lengths again to double check. It nearly makes his eyes roll back into his head and a groan escape his lips, and this time he does let his hands come to rest on your hips, steadying himself.

Your eyes pierce his, startled at first by the gentle grip he has on you, but a soft smile appears and his head stammers in his chest.

“How does it look?” he breathes, unable to drag his gaze away.

Your fingers itch to twist themselves into his hair, locking them in place. You want to pull at it as his hands draw up your body, touch everywhere they can. The heat of his hands is delicious on your hips and the spark in his golden eyes is like a magnet, drawing you in.

“It looks…” you trail off, taking the time to really take a look at him. He’s devastatingly handsome, straight features and tan skin that you can’t help but want to taste. The downturn of his pink mouth isn’t seen as unhappy, but curiosity as his tongue darts out to wet them. “You look good.”

The hands around your hips tug and you go sprawling into his lap. Your fingers tighten in his dark hair, pulling Azriel to you just as desperately as he’s yanking you towards him. Your mouths meet in a hurry of emotions and an explosion of lust kicks your heart into gear. 

It isn’t anything less than the both of you clinging to each other, a mess of wandering hands clawing at each other, ready for more. He’s so warm, and you can feel his cock stirring with interest as you grind down on his lap, swallowing his groan.

Azriel’s fingers brush up your sides, thumbing over your breasts. You shiver and gasp, and his tongue dips into your mouth for more as he hauls you even closer, chests pressed so close that you can feel his heaving breaths against yours.

His fingers dip under the hem of your shirt, pressing flat against your warm skin. You keen. You haven’t felt like this in a long time, didn’t know you were even capable of feeling so good anymore and all you want to do is strip him from his clothes and–

“I seriously love this look on me,” Cassian says, startling you. You rip yourself away from Azriel, mouth dropping in horror as you stare between the two of them. Oh, fuck. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck…

You shove yourself away from the broody man, head spinning a mile a minute. Cassian had just walked in on you making out with his…well, whatever they are. There’s definitely something between them, you’d heard it that night in the van. And not only that, but you’ve also kissed Cassian and here you are, making out with Azriel too.

Azriel’s mouth is swollen from your kisses, hands fallen into his lap like he couldn’t be bothered to move them when you’d dragged yourself away. His golden eyes are dark with shadows but he doesn’t look away from you even when you glance at Cassian, who’s running his fingers through his freshly cut hair with a smirk.

“Oh my Gods,” you breathe, slapping a hand over your mouth as your stomach roils. Tears prick your eyes and you need to get out of here right now. Maybe Feyre and Rhys aren’t too far out yet and you can wallow in your mortification on your way to find them.

“I’m so sorry,” you breathe, trying to shove your way around the towering men. Cassian takes up the entire door frame, smile falling from his mouth as he sees your fretting. He catches you by the waist and tugs you into his body, arms like iron chains around you. You’re unable to get out no matter how much you struggle.

“Calm down,” he murmurs, but you can’t, especially smothered by the warmth of his body. “It’s okay.”

Your eyes are stuck on his, searching for the anger that you won’t find. The hands trying to remove yourself from his grasp curl against his chest as you settle slightly, but his words aren’t enough.

You can hear Azriel shuffling behind you, rising from his spot and kicking the chair away before he’s sidling up behind you. You jolt in shock as he presses himself firmly behind you, his hands joining Cassian’s to keep you held between them both.

“More than,” he whispers his agreement and you shiver.

“But I thought–” you choke, unsure of how to go about whatever is happening right now. They’re nearly smothering you, both so big and tall that there’s no hope for an easy escape. You have to crane your neck back all the way to look up at them, and their heated gazes make your stomach stir. “I thought you two were together.”

Your voice sounds broken, soft, like you don’t want them to hear. You feel stupid, cheeks heating as you all but admit you’ve overheard their conversation in the van but haven’t understood it.

Cassian and Azriel share an amused look, the former craning down to look you in the eyes more fully.

“We are,” he answers, thumb stroking a soothing pattern across the exposed skin of your waist, calming you as if you might bolt away from them. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for one more.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DBD Taglist: @writingsbychlo @kemillyfreitas @5moremin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @waggel36 @bionic-donut @que-serasera @applepie02 @azrielsbabyg @arcadianmoonlight @pradaxstyles @illyrian-dreamer @secret-ly-here @reiincarnatiion @fuckthatfeeling @shadowsingersmate24 @harrystylesfan2686 @poppyalice2001 @fall-myriad

[ughgoaway]

you know how much i love sickfics 😭 and also it’s entirely plausible that girlie always gets sick when school first starts (source: bfs a teacher. also source: kids are germ factories)

anyway yes thinking of matty being very fucking sweet and caring when they’ve only newly started dating 😭 and taking care of girlie (maybe annie had the same thing a few weeks ago so he feels like an expect now lol) and even tho reader insists she’s fine, she’ll get over it with a good nights rest, he refuses to let her do it on her own (he is a proper mother hen now after all)

Oh, the love for sick fics is so real. I yearn to baby this grown man and also to be looked after by him.

Kids are such fucking germ factories, it's CRAZY. All they know how to do is be sick and perpetually sticky. So it's 100% possible you are getting SICK, especially if it's something that's been spreading through your class. 

Annie was out last week, and she's been back 2 days when you start feeling a bit rough. Matty shows up to drop Annie off and notices your red-rimmed eyes and pink nose. He sends Annie in with a kiss on the head and walks over to talk to you properly.

No one is within earshot, so Matty can talk to you the way he wants, “Hi sweetheart, are you feeling okay? You don't look like yourself”  he goes to stroke your arm, but he catches himself before he does.

You guys are together, but the school doesn't know anything yet, so he has to act normal, despite the constant urge to touch you however he can.

You pout and Matty has to fight the smile at how cute you are, “oh wow that's just what you want to hear from your new boyfriend” you tease, smiling and giggling but then launching into a chesty cough from speaking.

“Oh baby, have you got the same thing Annie had? She had the same cough and runny nose,” Matty speaks softly and has to fight the urge to scoop you into a hug. 

“I think I'm starting to, but it's Friday so I  figure I'll just quarantine myself in my flat for the weekend and I'll be fine by Monday.” You wave him off and drop your hand back to your side, but not before brushing yours and Matty’s fingers together subtly. You could see the worry in his eyes and were desperate to reassure him you were okay. 

“Well, Annie is going up to my mum's this weekend so I can come and look after you if you want?” Before Matty can even finish asking, you are shaking your head. 

Even the movement of shaking your head has you feeling dizzy and nauseous and you stumble slightly on the spot, matty of course acts like you had just thrown yourself to the floor and grabbed your arm to steady you. 

“I'm fine, really. Enjoy your weekend off” You smile softly at Matty, but he doesn't look convinced. But before he can protest further, a parent walks over, and he has to rip his hand from your arm. 

////////

It's Saturday night, and Matty hasn't heard from you all day. He had texted asking how you were doing and if you needed anything, but he was met with radio silence. So he took it upon himself to come over. 

He knocks on your door and hears rustling behind it, and soon a pile of blankets emerges, and Matty has to assume you are under there somewhere.

“Hello?” You croak out, and Matty almost crumbles on the spot. He walks in and shuts the door behind him before pulling you into a tight hug.

He feels you breathe him in and your growing smile against his chest, “Matty.” You whisper and burrow closer. You hadn't realised how comforting his scent was, and you already felt more at ease.

But a chesty and slightly wet cough pulls you from the hug, and Matty has to hide his grimace at how rough you sound.

“Oh darling, you sound awful. And you're burning up.” You pout as he feels your forehead, and he then places his palms on your flushed cheeks. 

“Can't be burning up, I'm freezing. And my chest feels heavy” you mumble as you snuggle back into his chest, matty rubs up and down your back - or at least he thinks it's your back. The pile of blankets makes it hard to tell.

It's then he goes into mother hen mode, “Right we need to get you out of these sweaty clothes and into the shower. The steam will help your breathing and hopefully make you feel a bit better.” Matty starts walking to your shower, and you shuffle behind him weakly protesting. 

“Ah ah ah. No excuses, baby. It's time for me to look after you. Now strip.” he reaches into your shower and flicks it on, putting some towels on your radiator to heat them up, ready for when you're done. 

You can't help but tease Matty, hoping he’ll forget about the whole sick thing and just let you sleep for the next 24 hours, “ooh kinky. Yes sir” you faux salute and wink at Matty. But any flirty behaviour was quickly wasted when you started hacking up a lung and shivering at the same time. 

“Don't you ‘yes sir’ me, just let me help you, sweet girl. Please?” his pout and soft eyes get you, and you start shedding blankets, and your shivering intensifies. 

You step into the shower and hiss at the hot water, somehow still shaking even under the scorching water. You look back at Matty, who is watching you with worried eyes.

You decide then and there to give up any dignity you had left and let yourself be looked after. 

“Get in with me?” Matty looks at you suspiciously, and you quickly clarify, “No funny business, I swear. I just want you close to me.” Your sad, quiet voice has Matty shedding his clothes quickly, getting in and pulling you back onto his chest.

You rest your head on his shoulder and let out a sigh at the feeling of him behind you. Matty grabs your body wash and squirts it in his hands, lathering them together before slowly working them over your body. 

It's not sensual or sexual in any way. It's just pure love and care. He moves from your underarms to your torso, slowly working his hands over your aching body. He kneads each section carefully, pulling groans from your cracked lips.

He grabs the shower head to wet your hair and massages shampoo and conditioner into it. He grins at the soft, sleepy smile that comes across your face at the feeling of his fingers rubbing at your scalp.

After 15 minutes and an appropriate amount of steam later, Matty turns off the water and begins bundling you in the towels he had ready. Still, your teeth are chattering as you stand in the bathroom in a pile of 5 towels.

And Matty can't help but feel his heart shatter. He’s never seen you look so small and sad. He can see you're feeling really fucking ill, and honestly, the lack of fighting from you tells him all he needs to know. 

“Go sit on the bed, sweetheart, and I'll be right back” Matty walks you to your bed, and you flop back into the pile of blankets, fighting sleep as you settle in. Matty runs to the front door and grabs the bag he had dropped when he walked in earlier. 

He gets back to you and pulls out his shirt and jogging bottoms from his bag, he knew you'd want his clothes- so he came prepared.

You giggle and lift your arms up, ready for him to dress you. Matty pulls down your towel and averts his eyes from your chest, feeling weird for staring whilst you're so ill. 

You notice and pout, “You don't like my boobs?”

“No no, not that. I like them too much, babe. If I stare too long I'll get hard and it is definitely not the time for that” Matty taps your hips and slides up a pair of his boxers and jogging bottoms over your waist as you grin happily.

Your boyfriend still likes your boobs even when you're gross and ill, and that's good to know.

You flop back on the bed and watch Matty walk around and get into bed, patting the space next to him for you to settle into. 

“Mmm, you'll look at them another time, though?” you say softly, starting to move up the bed.

Matty nods and smiles as he watches you move groggily, sniffling as you're crawling up to him.

“Good idea bringing your clothes for me. I would've stolen yours if not” you say, letting your eyes fall closed.

“Hey this isn't my first time dealing with a sick girlfriend” Matty says, and you immediately frown and open your heavy eyes. 

“Don't wanna think about you being other people's boyfriend. You're my boyfriend,” you groan, settling into your pillows and burrowing into Matty's side. 

He laughs and swings his arm around your shoulders as your legs wind together like ivy intertwining, and you bury your nose in his chest with a happy hum. 

“Don't worry, baby, I'm just your boyfriend. No one else's.” he looks down at you and feels giddy at the soft smile on your face. 

“Mmm mine” You sigh, and Matty presses a kiss to your head as you finally drift off. 

The next day, Matty still wants to play nurse, and you let him quite happily.

[berystraw]

THE PROPHECY SAYS... : INTRODUCTION

Synopsis: After the death of her only remaining loved one, a different part of her life reveals itself. It is a whole different life she could only imagine from the stories told by her mother. A new chapter had just begun. A story full of love, trials, and sacrifices. But will love be the one to prevail at the end of the day? Or will it end as tragically as the others?

[T.P.S Masterlist] | [P.J Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist]

Case File #1

[Name]: Soleil Blaine

[Nickname(s)]: Sol, sunshine

[Age]: 13 years old

[Date of birth]: March 05, 1992

[Gender]: Female

[Sexuality]: Heterosexual

[Eye color]: Black eyes

[Hair color]: Black hair  

[Height]: 5'4

[Playlist]: Gods and Monsters 【Lana Del Rey】 Castle 【Halsey】 You're on your own kid 【Taylor Swift】 Dancing with your ghost【Sasha Alex Sloan】 Without me 【Eminem】 Happier than ever 【Billie Eilish】 Can you feel my heart 【Bring Me The Horizon】 Cloud 9【Beach Bunny】 Idfc 【Blackbear】 Heathens 【Twenty One Pilots】 7 years 【Lukas Graham】Sex, Drugs, Etc 【Beach Weather】 Michelle【Sir Chloe】 Hayloft 【Mother Mother】

Case File #2

[Name]: Perseus Jackson

[Nickname(s)]: Percy, Perce

[Age]: 12 years old

[Date of birth]: August 18, 1993

[Gender]: male

[Sexuality]: Heterosexual

[Eye color]: Green eyes

[Hair color]: Black hair  

[Height]: 5'10

[Playlist]: Not Strong Enough 【Boygenius】 Riptide 【Vance Joy】 Fine Line 【Harry Styles】 Fourth of July 【Sufjan Stevens】 You are in love 【Taylor Swift】 The kids aren't alright 【Fall out boy】 Footnote【Conan Gray】 traitor 【Olivia Rodrigo】 Could have been me 【The Struts】 Look After You 【The Fray】 Mama's Boy 【Dominic Fike】 I bet on losing dogs 【Mitski】 I love you so 【The walters】

Soleil Blaine

—The Cynic

"My name makes me sound like one of Apollo's kids"

"The sun is a star that shines brightly every day and in every situation, and so was Soleil. Soleil Blaine grew up to embody her name. Her life before wasn't exactly something out of a fairy tale or from any storybook at all. No, she was not a princess, nor was she rich. There wasn't a superhero with some sort of armor or horse that saved her, but her mother was there. All her life, the only person she ever truly knew was her mother. However, everything seemed to have changed after the death of the only person she truly loved. The sun, the brightest star to have ever existed, had lost her light." 

Percy Jackson

—The loyal

"I am Sally Jackson's son"

Hero. Percy Jackson was named after the great hero Perseus, for his mother hoped he would be able to have a happy ending like his namesake. But a hero's fate is never happy. Growing up, Percy received an immense amount of love and support from his mother, even if it was sometimes hard to understand. Despite having Gabe as a pathetic excuse for a father, he always had his mother as his foundation and source of hope. However, a hero would also need to sacrifice the person they love most because a hero's life is never happy. It is filled with tragedy, suffering, and betrayal.

Soleil + Percy

—If the fates allow

"Our parents' wars aren't ours"

To be written...

Playlist:

[Playlist]: The Cut That Always Bleed 【Conan Gray】 Achilles Come Back 【Gang of Youths】 Born to Die 【Lana Del Rey】 Centuries 【Fall Out Boys 】 Family Line 【Conan Gray】 Because I Liked a Boy 【Sabrina Carpenter】 Skyfall 【Adele】 The water is fine 【Chloe Ament】 Reflections 【The neighborhood 】 hostage 【Billie Eilish】 Hall of Fame【The Script】 House of Memories 【Panid! At the Disco】 Burning Pile 【Mother Mother】 Ellie Goulding 【My Blood】 War of Hearts 【Ruelle】 Do what you gotta do 【Dove Cameron, Cheyenne Jackson】 Soldier, Poet, and King 【The Oh Hellos】 If I killed someone 【Alec Benjamin】 Born For This 【The Score】 Dear Arkansas Daughter 【Lady Lamb】 Home 【Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros】 Welcome Home, son 【Radical Face】

[leonaluv]

Fame & Fortune 1-5

choose between 1-5 or images 

Pile one -  Beyond 

Fame 

You'll gain fame as a parent. Your parenting approach may make you famous, and when you have children, they may become more well-known than you. A father figure or mother figure, like Mother Teresa, may be what some people are searching for. Some may be recognized for establishing boundaries, perhaps by writing books like "How to Deal with a Narcissist" or other self-help books about helping others to realize their power. You might simply find yourself in a circumstance involving law enforcement that goes viral or join the career of law enforcement might just make you famous. It seems to involve other children joining you and taking part in a nice activity or working with young people in law enforcement. This is about getting justice and showing people how to break free of society.

Money 

(Alternatively, videos of you conversing with a hot cop might go viral.) For others, being a rebel and standing up for the rights of others may more body care pertains to massage therapy, waxing, and shaving in the beauty industry. grooming, the production of skincare goods, candles, soap, and perfume, as well as the instruction of good manners. classes on emotional intelligence or creative activities sake you popular. voicing opposition to corporations and other constituents)

tarot cards 

 The world reverse, 4 of pentacles reverse, the sun, the phoenix, blunders, middle path, planner fire disaster, 9 of diamonds and mag

Pile 2 - The lights 

Fame 

Learning the lesson to not see everything in a black and white perspective. Having a more open-minded perspective and combing both the left/right hand paths. Reaching that state of mind of balance between the feminine/ masculine (yin/yang) and tapping into your own source of power. Some can be known as witch, magic or alchemist basically being known to make an opportunity out of anything. Always having a plan and working on creating new projects and developing new things for your own community this can be like online community or related toward hometown. famous for coming up with new ideas to help out your country or city.

Money 

Being open to new experiences and sharing more with others at this time are two ways to get money. You could believe that the world isn't offering you enough opportunities right now and that it's difficult for you to hold on to your own riches, but your financial condition will soon get better. It may be time for you to take on greater leadership responsibilities right now.

Love advice

If someone new enters the picture, they will assist you with your financial condition, but if you start dating, you might run into some relationship-related problems. (Although every relationship has its challenges, you must keep yours private because others may be envious of your brand-new romantic relationship.)

Present moment

The phoenix oracle appears in this reading, indicating that a rebirth will occur because the phoenix is symbolic of death, burning at the stake, and being able to rise from the ashes and start over. A time of transition from feeling out of this world, being generally detached, and just surviving by to now, when the sun ( tarot) is shining so brightly and there is abundance in addition to happiness.

Pile 3 - Camera & actions

Fame

Gain attention by working with individuals in high positions of authority or, alternatively, by having a close family connection to someone in a prominent position. You might gain official recognition and have the authority to speak up on matters involving people who need justice. Some people are well-known because they are renowned judges, lawyers, or court-related professionals.

Money 

Visiting new places and traveling are ways to earn money. You could need a change of scenery right now, or you might just like to talk about your experiences in various countries. You might even consider teaching your native language to foreigners online.

Making money in the legal, business, or educational fields. assisting others with their dreams, sleep therapy, and dream-related music.

Travel vloggers or live streamers who visit new locations in exchange for donations. You can make money while socializing with new people and playing video games with pals. Simply being playful and carefree overall.

Pile 4 - Everlasting Fame

Fame

Being well-known for your romantic connection could result in a viral moment between you and your partner. Being well-known for one's career or just for overall success varies; for some, it may be related to partying. A younger man films you are dancing at a party or engaging in an amusing activity. Because of the younger energy there, you might assume that person to be a youngster when that moment goes viral.

Money Working with children can earn you money and help you teach them to be more responsible. helping businesses by working as a manager or agent over someone there. (Why they had to endure that trying period in life)

tarot cards 

(8 of cups reverse, king of swords, 9 of swords, royal, secret society, government, slander and 6 of hearts.)

Pile 5-  Icon in the making 

( sorry forgot to add photo :/ to the main photo )

Fame

Become famous for coming from a small city or town working up to being you own boss. Others it can be being a musician and taking a risk to start this career.

Money

Traveling, dealing with animals, being in a position of influence, and engaging in creative labor are all ways to make money.

tarot cards 

(Page of pentacles,4 of wands, and 8 of pentacles reverse, child identity, Industry, Victim, bigger picture)

[phantomdecibel]

I was bullied into both finishing and posting this /j

But in all seriousness, special thanks to @hahahaghosty, who both came up with the idea and encouraged me to finish this! There’s a couple of references to their writing in here lol, they’ve got such great ideas –

ALSO I don’t think it’s stated outright in this fic, because I hadn’t really decided until after having finished writing, but the blanket is blue! Another brilliant addition from Ghosty :)

…I didn’t do. literally any research into like. houses and shit from ancient greece sorry –

There was a blanket, tucked away in the very back of Telemachus’s closet, ratty and tattered, colour faded and dull. It has been there for as long as he can remember, a universal constant he’d never bothered to learn the origins of.

It was one of the few truths he knew with absolute certainty; his mother loved him with all her heart, the suitors were parasitic pigs, and there would be and always has been an old, moth-eaten blanket buried away in the back of his closet. Anything else could shift like the winds, but those facts held firm.

As a child, Telemachus used to pull it out. On cold nights when his usual covers weren’t enough, on days when his mother’s suitors were particularly nasty or when life was just too loud, he would pull it out, wrap the small thing over his head and shoulders, and use it to block out the rest of the world. Or, as he got older, he would bundle it up and curl himself around it, hugging it tight while his mother weaved and unweaved in her own room, and wonder not where it came from, but why it was in /his/ room.

Eventually, he tucked it back away in its special little corner, and forgot about it.

___________

When Telemachus is fourteen years old, so much more bitter yet not, at the same time, his mother Penelope, queen of Ithaca, makes him clean his own room instead of having one of the maids do it, as punishment for losing his temper and shouting at a group of the suitors constantly stalking the halls. Telemachus complained, and dragged his heels, and pouted in his best imitation of a seal pup’s large, watery eyes, but his mother did not change her mind.

It’s not all so bad, he can’t help but think to himself, even as he keeps up the petulant act. At least here, cleaning his room, he doesn’t have to worry about being bothered by the suitors. Still – it wouldn’t do to let his mother win! He would not enjoy the excuse to spend all day hidden away in his room out of spite.

His room isn’t particularly messy, and Telemachus knows where everything goes anyways. Of course he does! It’s his room, he’s lived here all his life! There’s his bed, in the corner under the window, the pile of damaged training swords right by his desk, and –

…

…and the ratty, tattered blanket tucked away in the back of his closet, dull with age.

Gently, Telemachus pulled it free, unfolded it and held it out at arm’s length. He hadn’t thought of it in years, not since one of the suitors had caught him hiding beneath it when the world had just been too loud and subsequently mocked him, loudly and to the others, for still needing a blanky even at the age of eight. His mother had been quick to put an end to that, to run her fingers fondly over its fraying edges and the missing chunk of its corner and tell him in no uncertain terms that he had nothing to be embarrassed about, but the damage had been done. Telemachus had tucked the blanket away, and refused to look at it again. Eventually, he’d just forgotten it existed.

Now, holding his old source of comfort, Telemachus didn’t feel embarrassed. Instead, all he felt was the burning coals of anger. Anger at the suitors for their jeers and taunts, anger at his father for not being around to deal with the… pests, and anger at himself, for letting the comments of some jerk he didn’t even care for the opinion of ruin something that had only ever been undeniably good, comforting, familiar. It made his hands clench where he held the old blanket, and his lips twisted into a sneer against his will.

With a deep breath and all the grace of the prince he was trained to be, Telemachus pushed the feelings aside, moving to throw himself down on his bed, blanket held in a white-knuckled grip against his chest. Where had the blanket come from? It had just… always been there. Telemachus could remember it’s frayed edges, the spots where something had chewed small holes through it (he frowned, then, fingers tracing the damage, and resolved to ask his mother to mend it later), and the way a square had been cut away from one of its corners. He could remember long, lonely nights huddled underneath it, and using it as a sail for his little play boats when he would pretend to be his father, coming home from the war to drive the suitors from the house.

…he could not remember the first time pulling it from the back of his closet (or putting it there in the first place, either). He could not remember what it would have once looked like when it was still new and beautiful, what its texture had been like before getting washed one too many times and losing the softness he imagined it once had. He could not remember the blanket as anything other than what it was now, and suddenly, he was curious.

It was his, obviously, or else it wouldn’t be in his closet. But – who had given it to him? His mother, one of the suitors back when he was still a child (and okay, ew, that was such a gross thought)? Or had one of the maids simply found it laying around once, and mistaken it as something that belong to him? Some childish part of him offered up the idea that it had been a gift from the gods – but he’d quickly dismissed the thought. The gods had never favoured Telemachus in the way they favoured his father, and even if they had, a precious gift like that wouldn’t have been left to collect dust the way this blanket had.

Maybe, maybe his mother would know? She was the queen, after all, she knew practically everything. She had to, to take care of Ithaca in his father’s absence.

Mind made up, Telemachus dragged himself up from his bed and, blanket still balled to his chest, made his way out of his room.

It was still the middle of the day, and so Telemachus knew exactly where to find his mother. All day, every day she sat in the same room, weaving the funeral shroud for his father. It had made him so angry at first, one of the only times he had ever felt mad towards his mother. Odysseus, king of Ithaca, his father, wasn’t dead! He was coming back to them, to mother to Telemachus, so there wasn’t any need for a shroud! But his anger had never stopped his mother from sitting down to work on it, and she never seemed to finish, anyways, and the shroud never seemed to grow, and whenever he asked about it she just smiled and winked and kept weaving. Whatever she was doing she was buying them time, held the suitors just that smallest bit at bay, so Telemachus had (eventually) let it go.

Even now, years after she’d started it (and now, a bit older and a bit wiser, Telemachus knew that it shouldn’t have taken so long, let alone years), his mother sat before her loom. Telemachus hovered in the doorway for a few moments, until she glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him, gesturing him further into the room.

Telemachus made his way to her side, and slumped to the floor, back resting against her legs and chair. For a moment they were silent, until his mother stopped her weaving, and a gentle hand landed on his head.

“Have you finished cleaning your room?”  she asked, voice soft and melodic. Telemachus shook his head silently, careful not to dislodge her hand. “Then what bothers you, my son?”

Unsure how to start, Telemachus picked at the seam of his chiton while his mother waited ever patiently. Eventually, he settled for handing her the blanket.

“I –” he started, nervously glancing back up at her. Some small, illogical part of him worried she would mock him for still having the tattered cloth, even though he knew, logically, that she his would never. “I found that in my closet – and I was wondering, if you knew where it came from?” in the silence that followed as she unfolded the blanket he hastened to add a quick “I can’t remember,”.

“You wouldn’t,” his mother rasped, and Telemachus glanced back up at the trembled in her voice. She held the blanket in her lap like it were glass, like it would unravel just at her touch alone, yet were precious enough an object that that was something to fear. Telemachus frowned at the way her eyes glossed over, nose scrunching up. Was she going to cry? He hadn’t wanted to make her sad, just find out where it had come from! “You would’ve been too young.”

“When I got it?”

“Given,” his mother corrected. She let go of the blanket to move a hand back to his hair, and Telemachus twisted around towards her. “It was a gift, when you were just a baby.”

“A gift?” Telemachus parroted, looking up at her with wide eyes. Who’d knew! He wondered who it was from, an old family friend, maybe? Someone who wasn’t around anymore, if her expression was anything to go by. “From who?”

“…”

“Mother?” he prompted when the silence grew too long. “Who was it a gift from? Do you know?”

Her wet, sad eyes bored down at him, and suddenly Telemachus felt a lot less excited. Still, there was a tenderness in the lines of her face, some sort of bittersweet fondness as she shook the dust out of the blanket much more efficiently than Telemachus himself had been able to, and swung it gently over his shoulders. His mother dropped her gaze as she smoothed at his shoulders, but Telemachus just kept staring up at her. She sighed, and finally smiled gently, sadly, as her hands stilled.

“It was a gift,” she repeated with a world-weary sigh. “From your father –”

“What!” Telemachus surged back to life, clutching at his mother’s hands. “Really!?”

“Yes,” she chuckled ruefully. “When I told him that I was pregnant – he was so excited. So nervous, he was so scared he wouldn’t be a good father. Eventually,” she chuckled again, but the memory was fonder, warmer, less melancholy. “Well, it only took a few days for me to get fed up with his worrying, kicked him out of the house. Your uncles Polites and Eurylochus were a bit fed up with him too, I guess, because they dragged him out to the market and left him there for the day. When he came back, he had that with him.”

Once again, his mother fussed with the blanket thrown over his shoulders, as if she was trying to swaddle Telemachus like the baby he’d once been. Telemachus himself couldn’t bring himself to move, couldn’t bring himself to say anything. The blanket had been a gift from his father. Telemachus sucked in a breath and held it, like any more noise would shatter the fragile atmosphere and his mother would stop talking, and the blanket would once again be tucked away and forgotten.

“Odysseus – your father, well, he said it was for you, but I wore it like a shawl for the first few months. I’m pretty sure I only stopped once we’d set up your nursery, and then we just left it in your cradle until you were born,” one of her hands, Telemachus’s own now wrapped loosely around her wrist, reached up to thumb under his eye. And oh, he hadn’t even realized it until she was wiping them away that those stubborn tears had begun to fall. They dripped slow, slow, slow down his face, and left the aftertaste of salt burning at the corners of his lips. His mother’s own misty eyes were compassionate, and her smile shone with understanding. “We used it to carry you everywhere, me and your father, and your uncles Polites and Eurylochus, too. They all adored you, I was worried you’d never learn to walk with how often you were being bundled up and carried around, between the four of us. Or – well,” her already soft voice softened more. “That’s how it would have been. You were still so small, when they had to leave.

“I didn’t realize you still had it,” she murmured. “Or we would have had this conversation much sooner.”

Telemachus shuddered, lack of oxygen leaving him lightheaded and unsteady, and forced himself to breathe again. Finally he freed his mother’s wrists, one hand still holding his face and the other still at his shoulder, to scrub the tears from his face. They didn’t stop falling – but the motion broke his eye contact with his mother and made him feel just that little bit better.

There was the shuffling of his mother’s dress, and the scrape of her chair as it dragged against the floor. Before he could look up again he was being pulled snug against her chest, wrapped up in her arms like when he was a child, naïve and with no understanding of why his father wasn’t, couldn’t be, around. The motion just made him sniffle more, and Telemachus wormed his way further under her chin to try and drown out the pounding of his heart.

“The day they had to leave,” his mother started again, so quietly Telemachus almost missed it, if not for the gentle hum in her throat from where his face was pressed against it. “I wrapped you up, carried you down to the pier to see them off. Your father spent every moment he could just holding you, talking to you, in those moments you were his entire world. Polites complained until Eurylochus dragged him away that he hadn’t gotten to hold you as much as he wanted to, because Odysse – your father was ’hogging’ you. He didn’t want to let you go.”

There was some sort of joke there, one she’d never explained to him. Telemachus hugged her tighter, imagining the scene play out in his head, the father he barely knew refusing to let him go before the last second until he stepped onto that cursed boat, the uncles he’d heard of much less frequently but still enough to feel like he knew them to some degree promising to look after each other, promising to bring his father home. All of them smiling at him in the way he’d only ever had his mother to describe to him, his father’s crooked-but-honest smirk, Uncle Polite’s beaming grin, the slight uptick to his Uncle Eurylochus’s lips. And he imagined his father, smiling but sad, tired, all the same, as he said goodbye to Telemachus’s mother, kissed Telemachus himself on the forehead. Telemachus imagined them sailing off, imagined just that one boat despite being able to list the exact number of men they had left with off the top of his head. And he tried to imagine them sailing back home, too.

“Your father loves you, my son,” his mother murmured into his ear, holding him in her arms. Telemachus couldn’t help but wonder what his father’s hugs would be like. “Never doubt that.”

___________________

Somewhere far, far away, a man sits crumpled on the shore of a remote island, cold water lapping at his bare feet. As the sun sits high above his head he pulls from his belt one of the few items he hadn’t lost when he was shipwrecked here; a small square of cloth, battered and torn and faded from the years at sea.

He held the cloth gently, cupped between his hands, and ran his calloused thumb over the unravelling edge.

And at the shore of the accursed island with no way off and rapidly dwindling hope of ever escaping this oasis prison, last remnant of the family he’d left behind clutched between trembling fingers, the man crumbled some more and sobbed into his knees.

[brainpal-gachapon]

Songtive of Burning Pile by Mother Mother, maybe?

Name(s): Pyro, Burn, Pile, Arson, Ember, Aodh, Arnbjørn, Leo, Farja, Dante

Prns: he/they, pyro/pyros, flame/flames, fire/fires, spark/sparks, burn/burning, arson/arsons, trouble/troubles, pile/piles, straw/straws, stick/sticks, red/reds, wood/woods, hot/hots, flare/flares, fuel/fuels

Gender(s): firegender, pyrogender, nisgender, Aresgender, PHOSFLAMIAL, warmgender

Species: demon

TransID(s): permaflaming, transclawed, transdragonwings, transdragonkin, transfirebreathing, transperformer, transsplittongue, transfireproof, transcircusactor, transrainbowskin, rainbowbloodic, transbpd, transchef

Age: refuses to ID as any age

Source(s): Burning Pile by Mother Mother

[rainswolfs]

lucien your ocs are soooo cool i love them so much <33 can you tell me a bit abt them im very curious

!!! aaa miki my friend miki thank you and i'm SO delighted that you want to hear more of them !! of course don't mind if I do ! o7

Myr is part of an underground guild dominating his homecity, that he was sold to as a young child. His parents were wanted criminals who were in desperate need for gold in order to escape the city fast and with ease, therefore selling him off to the guild leader in exchange for coins. His parents ended up getting caught on their escape route however and executed, while Myr grew up mentored by the guild leader and working among the guild. The burning marks he got on his face and neck are from a failed theft attempt as a child. A blacksmith caught him red-handed and threw a pile of burning ashes at him, resulting in the injuries. Every established and high ranked guild member also has it's own pet crow, who usually function as messengers and scouts. Myr's crow is named Obsidian, and she's an old feisty lady with a nasty temper. :)

Raeran used to be a paladin who was originally tasked to hunt down oathbreakers and slay them. However, he went a little overboard and eventually started to "punish" whoever he fears might become an oathbreaker eventually and took judgement into his own hands, resulting in him officially being declared an oathbreaker himself. In revenge, he woke up a dragoness from her slumber, insulted her, lured her to the paladin cult, had her ran rampage, and then tracked her down again after literally digging himself back out of his presumed grave, to declare a blood pact with her to kill kill murder murder. Now, they're murder besties. <3 He also has cataract so he wears an eyemask most of the time to protect his eyes from any harsh light sources, as well as to trick enemies and not give away his partial blindness right away.

Lockesque is a protesting musician who kind of falls into a robin hood-esque category, by taking from the rich and giving it to the poor. He often gets arrested and has seen the cells many times for joining protests and rebellious groups and spreads their speeches and ways through his music and arts. His mother used to be an established poet, while his father was a teacher at bard school, and the one who taught Lockesque how to play the violin. His father got attacked and murdered on the open streets on his way home one day and Lockesque has been providing for his mother ever since then, despite his risky lifestyle. Lockesque and Myr are also familiar with each other and would sometimes exchange information. He also has a horsey companion named Biscuit. :]

Akiré is a woodelf druid who used to fall into the category of what I would call a "weredeer." They used to live in isolation for so long that they have become a deer along the way, before getting possessed and infected by a demonic plague festering inside of their forest grounds, and eventually morphed into a "predatory deer" , that resembles an horrific and grotesque fusion of a dire wolf and a deer. They attempt to mask this form up behind a humanoid disguise. Though, their possessed self becomes cruel and unpredictable beyond their control, isolating them further away from society and giving them the appeal of a demonic entity. They are essentially cursed to be a predatory prey animal.

[suzuki-violin-school]

Staring at the Campfire

More trauma dumping! Yay!

Masterlist <<Previous chapter

Content: lots of talk about fire and burning, reader trauma dumping, death mention, kirishima having a revelation, implications of bakugo also having trauma

Somehow, Bakugo and the dragon boy had managed to convince the nymphs to let them light a campfire. Eijiro had caught some fish with his bare hands while Bakugo had set up a makeshift campsite, and the two nymphs had been sitting at the edge of the stream talking amongst themselves for hours.

The stars had already come out by the time the nymphs joined the other two, barely making it in time before the last two fried fish were gone.

“You could’ve eaten more if you’d’ve shut up earlier,” Bakugo grumbled, watching the campfire spit at Fumikage, who stared at the flames, hardly blinking as he ate. Eijiro was already curled up in the grass, eyes closed and breathing even.

“We’ll be fine,” Y/n assured him. “Fumi, don’t be like that. Bakugo’ll keep the fire from touching us. Right?”

“Yeah,” Bakugo said lamely. “Somethin’ like that.”

“That is not reassuring,” Fumikage stated plainly. He finished eating quickly, eager to move farther away from the fire, now the only source of light. “Y/n.”

“Yes, Fumi?”

Fumi leaned in close so only Y/n could hear, but Bakugo ignored them, knowing their business didn’t overlap with his own.

“You are feeling something very strong and very painful,” Fumikage said worriedly. “It’s too complicated- Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Y/n said, not caring to lower her voice. “These are old feelings. They don’t pain me anymore. It’s not something for you to be concerned about.”

“But Y/n-”

“Fumi,” Y/n interrupted, her voice gentle. Fumikage shut his mouth instantly, body going tense at such a kind scolding. “I’m fine. Get some sleep.”

Fumikage nodded silently, walking over to where Bakugo had spread a blanket on the ground for him. He sat down, watching Y/n carefully, but then laid back and closed his eyes. Y/n watched him, lost in her thoughts as Bakugo stood, going to the stream to wash his hands and fill a cup with water to extinguish the fire.

He returned to find Y/n staring into the fire unblinkingly, expression blank as she watched the dancing flames.

“You okay?”

“Fire can be so beautiful,” Y/n said quietly. “It’s a shame it’s so deadly. Why are pretty things so painful?”

She looked up at Bakugo from her place on the ground. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, really seeing each other for the first time. Bakugo, still stern but quiet, wary of the dark of night but accustomed to it, aware of their vulnerability alone in the wilderness, but calm. Y/n, lost in an unfamiliar world, fearful of the dragon despite her hatred, worried for her friend and already homesick.

“Gotta balance things out,” Bakugo answered, shrugging. He tossed the water onto the fire, both of them looking back to the small pile of tinder, attention torn from each other. “‘There’s no light without dark’. Forget who it was that said that, but he was right. Never would’ve thought you’d think fire is pretty. Isn’t fire the thing that killed you?”

Y/n shifted, gently patting the ground beside her. Bakugo sat slowly, unsure of what Y/n’s next move would be.

“My village was on fire,” she began. “I barely escaped with my life, ran to a nearby forest, cleaned my wounds, ate, and rested, then died from the smoke in my lungs. That’s the story you know. My home was burned.”

“‘The story I know’?” Bakugo repeated. “Is that a lie? Is there more or something?”

“Not the whole village was on fire,” Y/n explained, pursing her lips. Her gaze still lingered on the wet wood before her. “It was just a few houses at first, but it was spreading quickly. My house burned from the inside out, though. It was winter, so I’d lit a fire inside to keep us warm. My mother saw the dragon overhead from indoors, through the window, and she knocked over our little fireplace on accident while she was panicking.”

“I thought it was dragonfire that killed you,” Bakugo said.

“Well, I definitely got burned by dragonfire, too,” Y/n said. “My father told us to run while he helped my mother try to save the essentials from our house, but they never made it out.”

“‘Us’?” Bakugo repeated.

“My husband let me lead us out of the house,” Y/n continued, her eyes growing duller with every word she spoke. “I was quicker anyway, but then his hand slipped from mine while we were running. He told me not to look back, so I didn’t. I was already out of the village when I realized he hadn’t followed me. When I realized he couldn’t have. I went to the forest. I was going to take care of my daughter before washing my wounds, but she was already gone. I replanted the fruits I ate in the forest around her body. It was the one good thing I could’ve done.”

“How old was she?” Bakugo asked quietly. Y/n smiled wistfully.

“She didn’t even have a name yet,” she answered. “Ten hours at most, I think.”

“I’m so sorry,” Bakugo said. He grimaced. “Yeah. Fire’s pretty graceful sometimes. Ironic, huh?”

“Ironic,” Y/n agreed. She sighed. “I’m going to get some rest.”

“Okay,” Bakugo said, nodding. “I’m gonna keep watch for a bit, then it’s Eiji’s turn, unless you trust Fumikage more- Well, unless you think it’s smarter to have Fumikage do it. I already know you trust him more.”

“The dragon can do it,” Y/n said, standing up. “Fumi needs his rest. Remembering the world outside the forest is painful, and he can feel my sorrow.”

She walked over to the blanket Bakugo had spread out for her. She looked like she was gliding again, her steps so soft against the ground that the ethereality of her not being human made itself known.

“Hey.”

Y/n just hummed in acknowledgement as she laid down.

“You’re pretty damn brave to tell me all that.”

Y/n didn’t reply, simply turning on her side to face away from him. He stared at the wet wood for a bit before speaking again.

“I know you’re awake, Eijiro.”

Eijiro sat up slowly.

“I didn’t know she had a family,” he said simply, a sympathetic twang in his voice.

“Hah? Everyone has a family, idiot,” Bakugo grumbled quietly. “People live complicated lives. Even if you don’t always realize it, everyone’s got stuff goin’ on. Strangers are just as real as friends.”

“I… I never realized,” Eijiro admitted. “I did worse things than burn villages or kill people, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Bakugo said simply. “Go to sleep, I’ll wake you up in a few hours to switch watch with me.”

“What do you think she would’ve named her daughter?”

“I don’t fucking know, go to sleep.”

“…Katsuki, do you hate fire too?”

“No,” Bakugo answered, far too quickly. Eijiro eyed him up suspiciously. “Fire’s dangerous and you’re a reckless bastard, as both a legendary evil dragon and as your stupid self. You know I don’t hate fire.”

“Well, it’s been sounding an awful lot like you hate me,” Eijiro said. “Ever since you learned that I’m-”

“That you’re the most dangerous, heartless, beastly dragon in history?” Bakugo finished. “I know from experience, you can’t escape your past. Forgive me if I stop trusting you, but you thought you could lie to me. You’re not who you said you are.”

“You’re upset that I’ve killed people?” Eijiro asked incredulously. “You, the murderer among murderers?”

“At least I’m not a liar.”

=

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=

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[outpost51]

💧Rain - What's the most emotional scene you've ever written? 👀👀

🌨 Sleet - What's the most you've ever written in one sitting?

🌙 Eclipse - What's the most common / reoccurring theme of your WIP(s)?

WIP Weather Asks

gonna answer these out of order so i can put the cut at the end c:

🌨 Sleet - What's the most you've ever written in one sitting?

fuck, like 10k or something, and i want that mojo back

🌙 Eclipse - What's the most common / reoccurring theme of your WIP(s)?

daddy issues family dynamics/blood vs chosen/etc? i think

💧Rain - What's the most emotional scene you've ever written?

this one smarts pretty bad but since it's adjacent to the actual wip, for your delectation:

cracks knuckles

Pup’s soft snoring was the loudest thing in the room. The ceiling fan ticked rhythmically, mixing with the crackling speakers. They created a harmony in the pin-drop silence as I thumbed through the rolodex of questions filling my brain. He’d told me next to nothing; Dad was a bad liar and even worse at it when he was drunk. He was withholding a lot, and whether it was because I was so young or because he just didn’t want to remember, I didn’t know, but I deserved the truth. I deserved to know why we almost starved. I deserved to know why he left a twelve year-old alone with a toddler. I deserved to know what happened.

But I could see the ghosts lurking in the shadows of his eyes. I knew I couldn’t push too much.

I swallowed. “Did you find her?”

Dad’s voice was thick with grief when he answered. “Yeah.”

I didn’t want to ask the next question burning the tip of my tongue. I deserved the truth, but I wanted to keep my naive hope that maybe Mom was just tied up in a warehouse somewhere. It fell from my lips against my will. “Where… is she?”

Dad took a deep drag from his cigarette to quell the warbling in his chest.

--

Omega Station, one week ago

Talus hobbled his way to Dock 12, stopping periodically to slump against the grimy walls to rest. He was covered in blood, his own and everyone else’s, and ozone sharpness and whatever greasy shit coated the entire station. He didn’t deserve to set foot on his wife’s ship, especially because the Galatea was as spotless as the day she left port. It made him uneasy. She should have had battle damage, a missing engine, anything at all to indicate a fight.

Sitting pyjak.

It should have been him.

The denizens milling about gave him a wide berth. He stifled the keen rising in his throat as he keyed in Fira’s autolock code — their anniversary.

He’d smelled death before. Blossoming rot wasn’t an odor someone forgot easily.

But those were bastards who deserved it, either because of sheer stupidity or because they were standing on the wrong side of his shotgun. They were targets on a map, shakedown marks who got a little smart with the wrong enforcer, things that might have been people once lying broken at the bottom of a mineshaft.

They weren’t his wife. Beautiful, wild, indestructible Fira Cassi, the mother of his children and love of his life and the one thing grounding him in reality.

They weren’t Valetoria Marcetius, who he followed home to Palaven and stole away in the middle of the night and married somewhere in unclaimed space with no one but his best friend and an old krogan to bear witness.

They weren’t his partner in crime, who followed him all over the galaxy and into the Suns and looked so gorgeous in armor with a gun in her hands it made his heart skip.

The airlock swooshed open. Talus swayed on his feet as the gut-wrenching stench of putrefaction hit him with the force of a charging krogan. It grew heavier in the air with every staggering step forward. He gagged, pushing through the molasses-thick foulness to the source of the assault on his senses, down, down, down to the belly of the ship. The cargo hold was crusted with patches of deep navy that stuck to his boots and painted a bastardized wedding-aisle through the row of crates leading to the gooey pile of armor and bone and rotting plates that once ran by his side.

Flashes of Fira in her secondhand gown, the one she saw in a window that they nicked later the same night, her small hands wrapped in his and tied together with a sapphire ribbon, fought against the pain of what he thought might be a shattered right femur, a cracked rib, still-forming scabs ripped open anew and dripping fresh cobalt like flower petals on the bloody carpet, his injured leg carrying him faster and faster to collapse like his lung in the carnage, gather what was left to his chest and scream and scream and scream, his bondmate, his falling star, his life, his —

--

“Dad!” I shouted, rousing Pup from its slumber. Dad’s trembling hands shook ash everywhere, his glassy eyes fixed on some point far beyond the dividing wall. His functioning mandible twitched sporadically and his whole body convulsed hard enough to jostle both me and the varren. It looked like one of Mom’s seizures, but worse.

Much worse.

He snapped back to the present with a gasp.

“Where’s the body, Dad?” I asked again. It wasn’t fair of me to get frustrated at him in the state he was in, but it wasn’t fair of him to leave me hanging for ten minutes while he went somewhere else and left me behind again.

He keened in short bursts every time he tried to speak. I felt bad, then, for rushing him. He eventually managed to get a grip on reality. “I called in a favor,” he wheezed. “One a’ the few people I still trust on the station. Runs an incinerator to fund his food stall. Did our c—” His voice caught in his throat and he cleared it with a grunt. “Did our ceremony.”

I worried my lower lip between my teeth, shutting my eyes to brace against a fresh wave of grief — both his and mine.

A beat passed between us. “She’s in a box. All that’s left is dust and bone.”

“Her ship?”

He pressed a key into my palm. The bright, anodized metal burned my skin and the plush vau dangling from it mocked me with its matted fur and embroidered smile. “She’s yours. Scrubbed clean, ready to go when you’re big enough to see over the dash.”

My lip quivered. Tears tingled behind my eyes. I couldn’t tell if they were out of anger or pain.

I rose, standing next to his chair, frozen in place with my fists clenched at my sides. My mind raced to stop the angry rant in my heart from spearing Dad with more arrows than he’d already taken.

“Pup’s yours too. He came outta the trash behind Foodshack an’ followed me back to the docks.” Dad inhaled shakily. “Didn���t have the heart to leave ‘im. Not after that. Named ‘im Fishdog.”

I stared in disbelief at Dad’s addition and the cork popped on my self-control.

“So that’s it, then? You vanish for a month on some stupid, half-assed vengeance spree, you leave me here, alone, to take care of your son while you go gallivanting off to your old stomping grounds to play the holovid action hero, and you bring me a fucking varren pup as if it’s gonna fix everything? You crashed through the front wall, Dad, or does your pathetic, drunk ass not even remember that part? I had to watch Doc re-inflate your lungs and saw off your fucking leg while he was also blitzed out of his plates!” My hands shook. The key cut into my palm.

“C’mon, Fishdog,” I huffed. The pup flopped out of the chair and followed on my heels as I stormed towards the stairs. He didn’t ask to get dragged into this mess, and Dad deserved to be alone with himself for a while. I paused on the landing. “Fuck you, Talus.” I spat his name onto the dingy carpet like a curse.

Had the room been any louder than dead silent, I would have missed his soft, “I’m sorry.”

I split my lip with my teeth. I couldn’t bear to look back at him, because I was raw, and hurting, and I might have forgotten I was angry with him. “Tell that to Mom’s ashes.”

[britishserpent]

The Palace Baths, Part 4 (Prince Loki x Female Servant, 18+ Sexual Content)

Part 1 ,2 & 3 can be found on my Loki Fanfic Master List (Linked)

Author's Note 

There is a little teeny-weeny mention of teleportation, but let's jut go with it, this Loki can do a wee teleport on Asgard now and again. Right? Cool. Every other transition just felt awkward.

18+, Sexual Content

Prince Loki x Female Servant

Smut central, you have been warned.

2.9K Words

You walked away from his rooms feeling impossibly frustrated. He had dangled everything you had wanted from him in your face, only to tear it away from you with a cocky embrace that had slithered around you. You shook your head, attempting the clear the memory from your mind. You had called him a fool, and he was, but still a fool you were about to cry over. 

The lump in your throat refused to be swallowed down and tears pricked in your eyes. How had you judged so poorly? You had been unprepared for his calculated intelligence, and you felt like an idiot for putting yourself in that situation. Your confidence had wavered as quickly as his illusion had disappeared. The pace of your footsteps increased as you thumbed away the tear that now trickled down your cheek, wanting nothing more than to retreat to the seclusion of your room. 

You groaned as your body collided with another, your mind quickly dragged from the internal conflict, and you cringed as you took in her displeased face. She hummed to herself as she scanned over your appearance with a judgemental eye, and you wanted to dissolve into the shadows. You were in no mood to continue your unresolved conflict from the servant baths this morning. 

"As I thought, I did warn him he was wasting his time when he had me running around after you all morning." Your brows knit together at her words, and you took a step back away from her. "So he won't be surprised if I mention the details of our encounter?" Her eyes burned with anger as she continued to push forwards, insistently closing the gap you were attempting to create. 

"I may have had added a creative flourish to his instruction. You would be wise to not speak against me." Her furious eyes flickered over the wet trails on your face. "Oh dear, tears? It appears you have realised you are no match for him." You pushed your shoulders back in response and defiantly looked into her eyes, blinking your tears away. "Get out of my way." Her mouth now formed a wicked grin as she parted her lips, a retort on the tip of her tongue; you clenched your fist in response. 

"Ingrid, what are you doing?" She froze and quickly snapped her wide eyes to look over your shoulder. You didn't need to look behind you; you knew the smooth deep voice could belong to only Prince Loki. "I thought we had made things clear. Surely you have better things to do with your free time, is your fiancé not wondering where you are? How about you run along and bother him." You grasped the opportunity to push past her and continue onwards to your quarters, trying to dismiss the confusing encounter. 

You slammed the door closed behind you and immediately tugged the soft silk over your head, unable to bear the constraint of the Prince's gift any longer, and allowed it to fall into a crumpled pile on the floor. You should be happy with your safe and unbothered position in the palace. This was adding an unwelcome source of conflict you would be wise to stay away from. 

His face infiltrated your thoughts, and you drank in his mischievous eyes and a sharp jawline. No. A distraction was needed. 

You walked over to your bed and knelt, reaching beneath the frame for the trunk you had left unopened for months. The wood met your fingertips, and you sighed heavily as you dragged it towards you, the familiar creak of the hinges calming you as you opened it. You looked down at the sword it contained, fondly tracing your fingertips over the cold blade; one of the final connections to your mother that you were unable to let go of. 

You dragged your hand and eyes away to look at the golden bow that sat with it, tracing your fingers over the intricate carvings before you picked it up, instantly feeling recentered. Although you knew what you wanted to do, you couldn't march into the training grounds with it for all to see. There were other options, and thoughts of the woodland behind the palace came to the forefront of your mind. 

"Fine," you sighed as you carefully placed the bow on your bed before you turned to find more suitable clothing in your closet. A cloak felt far too cliché to wear, but you still grabbed it to bundle the bow in. It would cause far too many questions if you were caught with it, you were all too aware of its value, and it was likely to be presumed as a stolen artefact. The last thing you needed today was to face the wrath of Odin. You tucked the bundle under your arm as you left your room, hurriedly heading towards the servant's exit. 

You breathed a sigh of relief as you exited the palace unnoticed, and walked with purpose towards the woodland that surrounded the vast lake. You entered through a clearing, pushing further onwards until you stumbled upon a cluster of apple trees. The ripe red fruits captured your attention, and you unwrapped the bundle. 

Your breathing slowed as you raised the bow, focusing on one of the apples that was swaying slightly in the light afternoon breeze. You smiled as you drew the string back, the golden arrow glittering into existence under your fingertips. You had done this many times, yet the enchantment never failed to amaze you. You adjusted your hands and carefully watched the movement of the fruit in the distance, holding your breath as you finally released the arrow. 

You didn't release your breath until it struck the stem of the apple, and you quickly drew the string back again to strike the fruit that was now tumbling through the air. You grinned as it pierced through it, impaling it against the tree trunk before it reached the grass below. Your gaze quickly connected to another tempting red apple, and you drew the string back again. 

The hair on the back of your neck prickled, and you released the string as you sensed the presence behind you, the arrow disappearing with a shimmer of golden magic as if knowing it shouldn't be cast. "My, that's rather unusual. You really are full of surprises today. Why are you a mere servant?" You huffed, refusing to turn your head to look at the Prince. 

"I've only seen a bow like that once before, kept under lock and key. How did you obtain it?" You clenched your eyes closed as you inhaled deeply, finally lowering the bow as you turned to look at him. "I assure you it's not stolen if that is what you are implying. Why are you following me?" He eyed you carefully, unable to sense any hint of a lie in your words. "The Valkyrie are all dead. You shouldn't have that." 

"I'm well aware they are dead, Loki." He clicked his tongue behind his teeth at your failure to address him as 'Prince Loki' and reached out to grasp your wrist, raising your forearm towards him. He found the answer he sought when he saw your skin remained unmarked. You dragged it from his grip, "Oh, come on, I'm not that old." His eyes glittered with curiosity as he awaited a further explanation. 

"I'm a servant because I choose to be." The corners of his mouth dragged up into a knowing grin, "You're lying." Shit. You inhaled sharply as you attempted to push past him, but he grabbed your shoulders and took a step closer. You stepped back in response. "Family heirloom. Happy now?" He laughed and continued to push against you, forcing you to take a few further steps backwards. Your back hit against the trunk of a tree, and you squirmed under his grip. 

You could easily push him off, and internally cringed when you realised you were letting him do this, enjoying his touch and intimidating stance. "That's not what I meant. Why are you a servant? I'm merely curious. I won't tell anyone." You were growing more nervous, and a lump now settled in your throat, "I don't want to talk about this." 

He hummed to himself, shifting his body closer, and you now felt his thigh pressing against you. Your breath hitched, your annoyance with him quickly dissolving as he inched his face closer to yours. "You really do let yourself get stressed out about things. How about I help you relax before we continue our conversation?" Your eyes flicked between his gaze and his lips that hovered dangerously close to your own; it would be so easy to lean your head forwards and kiss him, relieving the tension. 

The increased rising and falling of your chest gave your need away entirely. As his lips finally pressed against yours, the bow slipped from your grip, falling into the grass beside you. You hungrily returned the kiss, your arms reaching up to draw him closer, settling behind his neck. All doubt in your mind faded away, and you were dragged back to memories of the baths as he grasped your waist, shifting his body closer to yours to grind his hips against you. 

His fingertips dug into your soft flesh, desperately anchoring himself against you, and you groaned at the lack of pressure against your wanting core. As if reading your mind, he dragged his hands downwards, reaching for the back of your thighs to pull you up from the ground, your back slamming against the tree as he pushed against you. 

You instinctively wrapped your legs around him, but couldn't help the hiss that escaped; the rough bark scraped against your back as his muscular form pressed against you. He tore his mouth from yours to look at your pained expression, "Hold on just a second." 

You were unsure of the meaning behind his words until you felt your body falling backwards, and your stomach lurched in response. 

Your back connected with soft silk and you looked at him with a furrowed brow, unsure of what he had just done. "We are in my rooms." You turned your head, unable to shift your confusion, and took in the four-post bed frame that towered above your entwined bodies with wide eyes. 

Golden late afternoon light flooded through the open balcony doors that lay to your right, and he followed your gaze, reaching his hand out towards them. They closed in response, and you turned your head back to look at him, silently questioning him. His eyes glittered with desire when he turned his head to look at you laying beneath him, "I thought it would be wise to ensure a little privacy." 

He reconnected his lips to yours as he reached down to unlace your trousers. He shifted away to slide them down the length of your legs, and you purred in response, revelling in the sensation of the fabric being dragged across your skin. He shifted again, firmly grasping the hem of your tunic. You automatically sat up to allow him to slip it over your head before it was quickly discarded. 

One hand now cupped the fullness of your exposed breast, and the other pressed into your shoulder, pushing you back against the plush bed. Your body melted into the fabric under his touch, and he began to trail kisses down your neck, past your collar bone, until he teased your nipple with his tongue. You arched your back in response, and you could feel his grin against your skin as he teasingly nipped your now taut flesh. 

A shiver ran up your spine in response, and he soothingly ran his tongue over the same spot. You reached out to clench the fabric of his tunic in your hands, wanting to feel his bare skin against your own. He groaned as he moved his mouth back to yours, and your eyes fluttered shut, desperate to concentrate on only his touch.

Your now closed eyes were unable to see the shimmer of green seidr that unclothed him, and your eyes snapped open as you felt his slightly cool form connect with your flushed skin. He ground his hips against you, his arousal evident as you felt his hardness between your thighs. Sensing your gaze, he opened his eyes and dragged his mouth away from yours. "Are you alright?" Your flush crept up your neck, "Yes. Sorry. You are undressed. More magic?" 

He grinned down at you, "Ah, yes. I did not want to waste any more time." He dragged your thigh upwards as he spoke, the tip of his wanting member now sitting at your entrance. "That's quite alright-" He didn't allow you to finish speaking before he pressed into you, and your words melted into a moan at the fullness that inched inside you. He paused, holding himself within your tight walls, waiting for you to relax around him before he continued. 

He inched himself out of you, before rolling his hips back, his movement sending an overwhelming wave of pleasure through you. He continued to repeat the movement, reaching deeper each time, and your hands clawed at his back in response. He groaned as he ground his hips against you, now completely buried within your heat. 

One of your arms shifted from his back to find purchase against the wooden headboard, but your outstretched fingers were unable to reach. His hungry eyes followed the length of your extended arm, and he shifted his weight to free a hand. You allowed him to push the arm draped over his shoulder back to join the other above your head. He grasped your wrists firmly with his hand, pinning you in place. 

You moaned at the realisation of your position beneath him, and a sly smile graced his face as he thrust himself inside you again, continuing to increase his pace and force with each movement. 

With his grip no longer pressing into your thigh; you wrapped your legs back around him, desperately needing to further his depth within you. You were quickly becoming undone for him, and his pace began to falter as he too approached his own climax. Moans escaped from your parted lips, and you couldn't help but watch the beads of sweat that rolled down his furrowed brow as he fucked you. 

He leaned in to connect his lips to your neck, sucking your sensitive flesh as he now slammed into you, tipping you over the edge entirely. Your toes curled as you clenched around him, drowning in the waves of pleasure he was providing, and he groaned as a final snap of his hips dragged him over the same edge. He twitched within you as he found his release, buried to the hilt as he uncontrollably ground his hips against you, desperate to fill you completely. His sounds were heavenly as he lost himself, overtaken by his orgasm entirely. 

He released his grip on your wrists as he pulled away from you, rolling over to lay on his back beside you. The sound of your frantic breaths filled the room as you both slowly came down from your highs. 

An intruding thought had you bolt upright. The bow. Loki quickly turned his head to look at your sudden movement, "What's wrong?" Your stomach lurched, but this time not from his use of magic. "The bow. It's in the woods." His brow furrowed with concentration, ignoring your movements as you collected your clothing that was scattered around the bed. 

You paused to watch the glow of green light that formed in his hand and exhaled with relief when the bow shimmered into existence. He eyed the carvings as he sat up, holding it out for you. You reached to take it from him, but his grip held firm. "Can we talk about it now?" he asked, and you groaned as you released your hand, turning to sit on the bed facing away from him. 

You felt his weight shift as he moved towards you, placing the bow down next to you, and his hands now provided a soothing weight on your bare shoulders. "Why are you a servant?" You hesitated, knowing he would not like the answer. 

"Because it's the only role your father deemed me fit for. My mother was a traitor, Loki. It is a kindness to allow me to even stay within the palace. I am content with my role." Silence hung in the air. "I'm sorry," he whispered. You quirked your brow and turned to look at him, "I don't want your pity." He sighed before continuing, "That was not my intention. I - I'm sorry for my actions, for drawing attention to you. I see you have other reasons for wanting to remain unnoticed. I interpreted it as mere shyness, a challenge." 

You turned your body to face him, pushing against his shoulders, and he allowed himself to be pushed back into the mattress. You teasingly crawled up his body, your legs now straddling him. "I'm not shy, Loki. I'm careful." He raised his brows, equally surprised and aroused by your action. "Why did you come to the baths?" he whispered. 

You hovered your lips above his, and you took a moment to drink in the deep emerald of his eyes. "For you," you whispered, before closing the gap to kiss him. 

[animatorweirdo]

Beneath the blinding lights

You are trying to tolerate the sun's heat. You also have a discussion about your curse with Maglor.

Warnings: death of orcs, some Noldor being brutal, mentions of assaults, reader getting a heatstroke, looking pale and a bit sick, mentions of cases involving people dying.

Chapter 6

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

You watched as the elves rode after the orcs, yelling commands in elvish and shooting arrows in the warg rider’s heads and allowing those on foot to drag the bodies into piles and burn them. Shivers nearly ran through your spine. Maglor and his kin were ruthless when it came to killing orcs. The rabid ghoul-looking creatures had no chance against them— they were running away like rats getting chased by cats. 

The sight kind of reminded you of your time in Maglor’s former fortress. How violent the orcs were and how they nearly beat you to death and did it again and nearly assaulted Melui. You had no sympathy for them, so seeing them die did not bother you. Not to mention, the taste of their flesh and blood was disgusting. 

You don’t usually like the taste of blood and flesh in your mouth when you return to normal, but the taste of orc was so bad you could taste it through the beast’s control and sense its disgust. It was a groundbreaking surprise because wendigos are not supposed to be picky eaters. They ate anything, and now there was something they did not like. Oh, how the news would have caused a shock in your world. 

“Hey, (Name)! Could you help me pick some items from the wagons?” Faye suddenly called out for you. “Uhh… yeah, sure!” you follow her through the campsite. 

You walk together while listening to the ongoing purging of orcs, “It’s getting pretty wild, eh?” you motioned toward the hunt. “Yes. It seems after every dead orc. There’s always a new batch somewhere,” Faye replied as she watched with you. “It’s troublesome. In Valinor, we never had to worry about such a thing,” she mentions. “What was it like in Valinor?” you asked curiously. 

“It was… peaceful. The streets were filled with music and laughing children, followed by their parents scolding and street vendors trying to compete for the highest profit,” Faye described with a fond look. “I remember my mother bringing me to an herbal shop, and my nose was filled with many exotic scents of herbs and plants. I believe that’s where I got my passion for herbs and healing,” she smiles as you listen. “And I remember taking a handful of citrus leaves and putting them in my mouth since I was a little elfling at the time, “ she says, making you giggle at the thought since it was the most childlike thing to do. 

“Did they taste good?” you asked. “Oh, I believe my mouth was crying for a whole week for how sour and bitter those leaves were,” Faye chuckled as you laughed. 

She sighs. “Those were peaceful times. There were no trifles, no orcs, and the two trees stood proudly, banishing the darkness with their light,” her expression soured. “Then Morgoth was freed, and he destroyed them, our only source of light,” she started. “He stole Feanor’s greatest creations, the silmarils, that could have restored the trees and killed our high king, Finwe, Prince Maglor’s grandfather,” she mentions. You looked at her empathically. 

“It all happened so fast. I wasn’t even certain what was happening,” Faye said. “I was attending a feast with my family, then the lights went out, the darkness came, our king was dead, and then we were rebelling against the valar,” she said. “It was such chaos,”

“I’ll bet. I can’t imagine what it would be like if the sun suddenly went out,” you stated. 

“How did you end up leaving too?” you asked. 

“Me and my family desired to go along. We were part of Fingolfin’s host and crossed the ever-cold Helcaraxe. It was a devastating journey, and unfortunately, I was the only one in my family to make it through,” Faye explained with a silent sorrowful tone. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you said. 

“Don’t be… the choice was ours. I accepted my family’s death a long time ago and if the valars will grant them mercy. I might see them again at someday in Valinor,” she said. 

“Well, I hope you do. You never know what fate might bring, and you might see them sooner than you thought,” you tried to assure her. 

“That is very sweet of you (Name), but I’m afraid it's a lot more complicated than that,” she said as you reached the wagons. “Grab some of those towels while I take the medicine. Some of the warriors got injured and need a cleanup.” Faye instructed. “Got it, boss,” you replied and grabbed many of the towels you could carry. 

You two then started returning to the healer’s tents, carrying the needed stuff. 

The air suddenly became hotter, and everything became blindingly bright. Your head began to spin, so you stopped and escaped beneath a shade provided by a nearby tent. 

Faye did not notice your sudden stop, so she continued walking while you tried to tolerate the effects of a near heatstroke. 

Your head stung painfully.  You were breathing heavily. You dropped the towels and took a long drink from one of the water flasks attached to your hip. 

The cool liquid flowed down your throat, easing the headache, and the dizziness stopped. You drank half of the flask, then took a breather, trying to adjust to the heat that still found you beneath the shade. 

You smacked your moistened lips and mentally whined at your state. 

Winter was terrible enough, but thanks to the beast. You can’t enjoy spring or summer either. It was like if you were having a good time, you were going to have bad time.  You whined and cursed it out. 

“Fuck you beast and everything you stand for,”

“What did it do this time?” Maglor’s voice suddenly asked. 

“Ah!” you shrieked as he stood next to you. Your sudden shriek even frightened him as he stared back at you with widened eyes. You stared at each other for a moment before you released a sigh. 

“Goddammit! Maglor! Careful, I could have hit you with one of these,” you motioned the towels in your hand. “With towels?” he questioned with a curious brow. “Yeah. They can hurt pretty bad if you use them right,” you said with a teasing grin. A chuckle escaped him. “I see… I’ll make sure to watch out next time so I won’t accidentally end up getting killed by towels,” he remarked with an amused smile. 

“Anyway. Do you need something?” you questioned. “Nothing that requires healing. I just wanted to check on you because you— look rather pale and sick. Are you feeling unwell?” Maglor asked with concern in his eyes. “Oh? Uuuhh…Everything is fine. I’m just dealing with a heat stroke here and then,” you answered. 

“A heat stroke? Is it really that hot for you?” Maglor asked, surprised.

“Yeah— the curse makes me more vulnerable to the sun’s heat, so I can get a heat stroke easily. Even if it's not really that hot. It’s a real nuisance, but I have dealt with them before, so… I’ll manage,” you explained. “Well… if you’re that vulnerable to heat then maybe you should return to Himring, where it’s much cooler. I can arrange someone to escort you back,” he said, pointing over his shoulder. You mildly panic. “No need! If I just keep myself hydrated enough. I will be fine. Trust me. It is not that serious,” you motioned your water flasks while trying to sound as assuring as possible. 

“Ah…” Maglor nodded his head. “Is that why you’re carrying so many flasks?” he pointed at the rest of the flasks attached to your hip. “I… have to drink a lot to stay hydrated,” you said, feeling somewhat embarrassed. 

“Do you need help carrying some of those back? You still look like you’re about to pass out,” Maglor pointed at the towels. 

“Well… I do still feel kinda dizzy, so If that’s not too much trouble,” you said, nearly hesitating. Maglor softly smiled at you. “Of course not. Now, come on. Let me help you,” he picked half of the towels in his arms and began walking you back. 

“So… how does this curse affect you now that you haven’t had your proper medicine for a while?” Maglor asked while you walked. “Well… since I have a temporary one which I need to take every day. There isn’t much to worry about even though it’s not nearly as effective as my last one,” you started. 

“So is the wen–”

“Ah! Don’t say it!” you stopped him before he said it. “It’s bad karma if you say it’s name! I’m free to do it since I am one, but if you say it– bad things will happen,” you quickly explained. 

“You see… in my world: If you say the name of the beast. You will gain its attention,” you started. “That might sound superstitious, but it does happen. A wendigo is a beast that does not give up on its prey. Even when you might be safe and far away, it will find a way to get to you,” you added. 

“I heard some stories and read cases about people who had unfortunately gained the beast’s attention. They managed to escape into cities where it would not follow them, but they suffered nightmares so bad that they went insane, and in some cases, the beast had compelled them to return to the forest, where it would wait for them and then devour them,” you explained. 

“Only a ritual could draw off its attention from you, and I do not remember how the ritual goes, so don’t risk it and call the beast simply a beast or some other name,” you shook your head. 

“I didn’t know that… thank you for the warning,” Maglor said. “Oh, not even the most powerful vampires of my world dare to fuck around with them,” you uttered, then released a sigh when the headache returned. 

“Are you alright?” Maglor asked worriedly. 

“Yeah… it’s just the headache. Looks like I need to take another drink,” you said as you took a drink from your flask. 

“Are you certain you will be alright?” Maglor continued asking. 

“I will be fine. Camilla is very sharp about my health,” you tried to sound reassuring as possible. 

“I guess I can trust in her abilities to keep you in the best state possible,” Maglor said, making you smile. “However, I am curious. Have I done something to offend her?” he asked. “I… don’t think so. Why?” you asked curiously. 

“She seems rather cold toward me, more than usual, like I’ve done something to cause severe mistrust,” he explained. 

“Oh… that. I think it's only the stress of finding me the new medicine and managing work life,” you replied. “And she’s always been skeptical about people, especially those who know of my curse. She’s probably still unsure if you can be trusted keeping my secret and not turn on me and use it for blackmail or something,” you said, not missing a beat. 

Maglor looked surprised. “I… will give you my word that I will not do such a thing,” he said with his hand against his chest. “Your killing spree in my former fortress lessened the threat of being overrun by Morgoth’s armies, which allowed us to survive through the Sudden Flames, so I technically owe it to you,”

“I’ll trust you,” you smiled. “It’s just Camilla who needs more convincing. It’s not her fault, though. Our lives in our world were not exactly easy either,” you said as you arrived at the healer’s tents. 

“I think I can handle myself from here. Don’t want to keep you away from your lordly duties,” you grabbed the towels from his hands with a teasing grin. He chuckled at your last remark. “Honestly… I do prefer this than constantly worrying about killing orcs and everything,” he said then looked serious.

“If something happens or you feel much more sick. Come to me. I will sort things out for you,” 

You hesitated about what to say. “Okay… thanks,” you said with a smile. Maglor smiled back and then walked away. 

You stared for a moment, feeling rather lonely. You thought about what he said. He was so incredibly sweet to you. Your heart could nearly burst through your chest. Shaking your head, you turned away and went back to work before Camilla could snap at you for being late.

[bichettes]

dreaming big league || chapter thirteen

word count: 2615 summary: more life, more baseball. warnings: none! author’s note: this is rushed ik but i really just wanna get to the fun stuff

February

The metal bar sat on Carrie’s shoulders as she adjusted her feet below. She had to look around from the side rather than directly right in front of her thanks to her sleeping baby girl in her carrier. Penelope’s cheeks were smooshed as gravity pulled them down. Once Carrie’s feet were situated in the correct stance, she steadied herself before bringing her body down into a squat. She normally would have done the exercise without the assist from the Smith machine but with her daughter strapped to her chest Carrie didn’t want to take any chances. She went through ten reps of the squats while Penelope slept through it. Her thighs burned along with her lungs as she put the bar on lock and dislodged herself from it. She walked around the area to relax herself, patting the back of the carrier. Once she got her heart rate down to a normal level, she moved onto the next workout of her circuit.

This is how most of her week usually went.

Since the second week of the new year, Carrie spent the majority of her weekdays at the Thunderbirds’ training complex. As she had discussed with Coach Williams her mind was still very much set on making it to the MLB. The most important thing was for her to get back into fighting form; bring the weight down a bit, gain the muscle back. That’s why the coach had asked to bring Alisha and Parker, the team’s head `athletic trainer and dietician, respectively. They had come along to talk to Carrie about how to get the ball rolling again on her exercise and diet plan. After an informative talk一 with cuddles from Penelope in between for everyone一 the four of them were able to come up with a safe plan for Carrie to follow considering she was still the main source of well, everything for her daughter.

Carrie moved on to the last part of her workout: the treadmill. She carefully took Penelope out of the carrier and placed her into her sleeping mat so she could get a proper run in. Carrie started off with a walk, watching the rest of her team do fielding drills across the way. A part of her wished she was with them but she knew she wasn’t ready to be doing any of that yet. Her mind and body still felt sluggish from that of being a new mom. She concentrated on her breathing as her feet pounded the treadmill. Following her run, Carrie went through her cool down, letting her heart recover from the intensity of her workout. To top it all off, she picked up Penelope from her mat and laid down, placing the baby right on her. Penelope squirmed for a couple seconds but eventually settled after finding a comfortable spot for her head on her mother’s chest. Some happy sounds escaped her tiny cherub lips as she fell back asleep on Carrie, putting a smile on her face.

March

“Sorry, Carrie, you have to pay up.”

“Oh my god, Brandon.”

Carrie groaned as she stared down her wheelbarrow on North Carolina Avenue where Brandon had a little red hotel sitting. She shook her head. Out of all the cousins, he was the most ruthless monopoly player. In recent years Brandon just seemed to get lucky with the dice whenever they played and he always used it to his advantage. His rolls got him the more expensive properties and he put houses and hotels on them whenever he could. Everyone else had the unfortunate dice rolls, landing them on Brandon’s properties and having to pay him a godawful amount of money (for Monopoly). And that was currently happening to Carrie.

“Fuck.”

Carrie looked at her little pile of money. The rent for the property with the hotel was $1275. She only had $500. All she kept doing was shaking her head while Brandon held his hand out for the cash. When she looked up at her cousin he had the biggest smile on his face.

“You’re sick.”

“I play the game.”

She shook her head once again. “I can’t do it. I’m going bankrupt.”

The smile on Brandon’s face somehow managed to grow even wider. Absolutely sickening.

April

The four men stood around the hostess stand while they waited for someone to help them. A few moments passed before a friendly looking girl walked up.

“Hi! For how many?”

“Five, please.” Courtney answered for the group.

The hostess gathered up five menus and a smaller one before asking the guys to follow her to a table off to the side of the restaurant. They all took their seats and thanked her. Adam didn’t waste any time, plucking the drink menu off the top of the pile. His eyes went down the page as he read the drink options. The other four scanned through the food menu, already feeling out of their depth.

“How do you know this spot again, Court?” Joe asked him.

“My sister found it last season but she came for their brunch.”

“Was it good?”

“Wouldn’t recommend it if it wasn’t.” Courtney stated matter-of-factly.

Besides knowing what the five of them wanted to drink, they had no idea what they wanted to eat. Just as they were about to flag someone down, their, who they assumed to be their waitress, appeared with a pitcher of water and a tray of glasses for the table and set them down. A pencil and a notebook was procured from her little apron.

“Hi, welcome to Magdalena! My name’s Chelsea, I’ll be your server for at least the next half hour.”

That piqued their interest, especially Adam’s.

“Half hour, why?”

“Oh, I’m technically done for the day but the next person after me is stuck in traffic so I’m covering for her until she gets here.”

Courtney, Joe, Blake, and Daniel watched as their friend and teammate flirted with their server. Most of the time it was amusing to watch. The guy had game and they respected that. The only problem was that he had game with everyone. He could flirt with a rock if he could. They didn’t mind it, really. The only time they did was if his flirting got in the way of obligations. The group eventually managed to get in their drink orders before Adam could really step it up.

They went through the menu once again, discussing their upcoming homestand as they did so. Even going through the menu a second or third time, they still felt lost. Everything on it sounded great but they had no idea where to even begin. Courtney was just about to make a comment about pitching when there was a commotion at the front door.

“Carrie!” The hostess exclaimed.

“God, sorry I’m late. There was an accident on the Gardiner just as we were about to leave the complex so Hanna had to take side streets instead-“ The girl- Carrie- explained as she whizzed by the hostess stand.

What caught Courtney’s eyes wasn’t the frazzled look on her face or the speed in which she moved, but rather the gear bag she had slung over her shoulder and the two bats in her hand. His hazel eyes followed her form as it disappeared behind the door that led to the kitchen. Interesting.

“Think I found our server.”

-

“So which side do I have?” Carrie asked as she tied her apron around her waist.

“You’re in section three today with the addition of table four in section two.” Chelsea briefed.

Carrie’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“You know how Mark is with groups.”

“Right. So how many people are at that table?”

“Five, but they’re all really nice. One of them was flirting with me.”

“Flirting or harassing?”

“Flirting, the guy’s harmless. It’s that table over there.”

Chelsea pointed through the window of the swinging doors and Carrie’s eyes followed until the group came into view-

“Wait, that’s table four?”

“Yeah, nice enough guys. Why?”

“Um, that’s the infield for the Rockets.”

Chelsea looked back out the window. “No way. You’re joking.” Carrie gave her a deadpan look. “I shouldn’t have said that, of course you know.” Chelsea untied her apron and hung it up with the rest of them and unclipped her name tag from her shirt. “Maybe you can talk to them about baseball, then. Earn your tips that way.”

“I am not doing that.”

“Why not? It’ll be fun!”

-

“Hi guys, I’m Carrie. Chelsea was covering for me until I got here but don’t worry your tips will be going to her.”

The girl Courtney had seen just ten minutes prior was now changed out of her workout gear and into a pair of jeans and loose fitting graphic tee. Her hair was pulled back into a braided ponytail rather than the messy bun she had when she first entered the restaurant. With the her body was angled more towards him and Blake, it gave Adam the perfect chance to check her out, giving her back a quick up and down. He wanted to kick the guy’s shin.

“You guys figure out what you want to eat?”

“Uh, not yet.” Joe replied.

“Did you need help with the menu?”

“Please.”

This launched a five minute lesson on the menu, with Carrie giving them a run down on the dishes they were curious about. Courtney could see the happiness on her as she described something called ‘kare kare’ to them. She somehow managed to convince them to get two different kinds of spring rolls, pork barbecue, a large plate of white rice, and three mains (kare kare, chicken adobo, and lechon).

“Don’t you think we got a little too much to eat?” Daniel asked them.

Adam waved him off. “It’s our day off, we can eat as much as we want.”

“Now that’s not true-“

“Dude, live a little! We’re about to have some good food and you’re worried about following the meal plan.”

It was about halfway into their meal when Courtney learned a little bit more about their server. An older man walked in with a baby strapped to his chest and Courtney watched as Carrie met them in the middle with the biggest smile. His head tilted as she began to unstrap the baby from his body and hold her.

“Did you have fun with papa today, sweetheart?” Carrie asked the baby in a high pitched voice. She peppered kisses all over the baby’s face and happy babbles escaped from the little body.

Courtney had so many questions. Papa? Was this her sister? How old was she? He listened in some more to the conversation.

“Where’s your papa?”

“In his office waiting for you so you can have dinner together.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Of course he is. How was practice?”

“I’m exhausted. They got me doing fielding drills today, working on my timing and whatnot.”

At the mention of the fielding drills, the other four perked up. Carrie bounced the baby in her arms as she spoke with him.

“Full gear?”

“Mhmm.”

“Well look at you go. You’ll be back in no time!”

“I know but I don’t want to get too excited.”

Was she injured? What happened to her?

-

“I hope you guys enjoyed the food.” Carrie said to them as she handed the bill over to Joe.

“We did.”

“It was amazing.”

Should she say something? Would that be weird? Who knows when she’ll have this opportunity again.

Courtney was about to say something when she spoke.

“You know, I’ve been watching the Rockets since I was five.” She could feel her heart beating in her ears. All or nothing. “Jack McQuaid is the reason I used to play shortstop. I thought he was so cool. His catch into shallow left in game six of the 2005 World Series is still one of my favourite plays.”

The five guys all stared at her like she grew another head. So maybe speaking up was a mistake.

“‘Used to’?” Blake questioned.

Carrie nodded. “I’m a catcher now. I’ve been playing at that position since I was 11.”

“Softball?”

“No, baseball.” Carrie clarified. “I play in a mixed U23 provincial league.”

There’s a provincial league? Huh.

“You any good?” Adam asked.

Carrie shrugged. She thought she was good but she wasn’t about to admit that to five professionals. “I’m alright.”

Courtney wanted to ask her something but the question died at the sound of a baby crying. Carrie immediately turned at the sound and found her dad holding a crying Penelope. She quickly put down the card reader before her dad was depositing her child into her arms.

“She wants her mama.” Andrew said to her. She looked down at the baby.

“What’s wrong, sweet girl, hm? What’s got you all upset?”

Carrie hated when Penelope cried, didn’t matter for what reason. For poop, for feeds, nightmares, whatever, Carrie didn’t like it. She wanted Penelope to always be the smiley, happy baby she’s growing into.

“Dad, do you mind finishing this up?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Before she walked off towards the back, she stopped and turned towards her dad. “Their tips go towards Chelsea’s pay.”

June

Carrie’s leg bounced on the carpeted floor of her dad’s car while she waited for the text from the trainers. Her bottom lip was chewed raw thanks to the nervousness that had settled into her since she got in the car. Andrew the look his daughter wore on her face when he saw it through the rear view mirror.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked her gently. He watched as her head turned to face the front.

“Dad, I’m nervous.”

He turned around in the driver’s chair and was faced with a worried looking Carrie looking right back at him. He wished he could talk all the anxiety and nerves away so she wouldn’t have to deal with it. He and Severino knew just how hard she had been working to get back to playing form. The plan she had set up with the help of the team’s trainers and nutritionists in January was followed religiously by their daughter. And among all that she didn’t forget her duties as a mom, as a daughter, as a friend; the duties to herself. She didn’t lose who she was over the last six months.

“Why?”

“What if I didn’t do enough to get back there?”

Andrew shook his head, reaching for his daughter’s hand. “You did more than enough, baby. We all saw the effort that you’ve been putting in since the start of the year. You have been working so hard to get back. All of this that you’re about to do next is just a formality at this point. You just have to show your team officially that you’re good to go.”

Carrie nodded. “Yeah.”

“And if for some reason you can’t come back this time around, so what? You’ll have another go at it, just don’t give up.”

Carrie’s phone buzzed in her hand.

Alisha

-We’re ready for you!

“Me and Penelope will be right here cheering you on, okay?”

-

Beck’s ears rung as he stared at his phone.

-

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