#the whole underwater thing? and actual conversation my sister and I had late at night

[whatissleepeven]

...So apparently people liked my Obey Me! hcs and wanted to see more...

I hereby provide you with some more hcs -

Obey Me! Headcanons Part 2 (Demon Brothers + Undateables)

Lucifer checks in on his brothers at ungodly hours of the night to make sure they're actually sleeping + are alright

If one of them is in the middle of a nightmare? He silently walks over and places a hand on their head, gently brushing their bangs out of their face until they calm down (When I was little, my mom did this for me and it was extremely comforting, plus we all know Lucifer is practically their parent)

He always leaves before they wake up, certain that no more nightmares will plague them that night

Most of the time, more than one brother has a nightmare on the same night, so once he's done comforting one he immediately hurries to finish his rounds

It took an innocent question at breakfast for the brothers to piece things together, Lucifer opting to eat breakfast a little bit later since he was "behind on paperwork" (he's an over-achiever)

"I got the best sleep last night!"

Beel nods at Asmo's words, you looking on in dismay as he nonchalantly ate a piece of his plate. "Me too."

Mammon jabs a thumb at himself. "Well, I got the best sleep! Must be because I'm makin' more money nowadays!"

Satan rolls his eyes, contributing to the conversation. "I'll admit that I have been sleeping better as of late. Levi, Belphie?"

The darker-haired twin was half asleep, but he nods once. Levi makes a noise of agreement, eyes focused on his gaming console.

"As long as you guys are getting enough sleep, it's all good right?" You smile, seeing each of them smile back in agreement.

Then in walks Lucifer, who looks...less-than-stellar. He's a tad bit paler than usual, there are bags underneath his eyes; it seems that his "late night rendezvous" is finally catching up to him.

Asmo's shriek is the first thing that alerts you all. "Lucifer, what on earth happened to you?! Your complexion, it's...!"

Beel swallowed the remaining food in his mouth, staring at Lucifer with an unnerving intensity. "...Sleep?"

Lucifer waves him off curtly, taking his seat. "No need for worry, Beel; I get enough. Good morning to you all as well."

Mammon's eyes are wide. "Lucifer, you look like the dead! What the hell happened to ya?!"

Lucifer began to eat from his plate, but his eyes flashed in mild irritation. "Paperwork. Now, focus on your studies; there is a test on Celestial Architecture later today."

His words have the others scrambling, but Satan peers at him for a while longer as he fits the pieces together. He glances at you to see if you've come to the same conclusion, smiling when you nod.

"You'll make a fine detective yet."

That being said, the brother who watches mystery films with Satan is actually Levi. The otaku claims it was for "character design ideas", but you've found the two exchanging theories numerous times as the film progresses

Simeon likes to make grilled cheese and send them over to the House of Lamentation from time to time. It's a battle: Everyone vs. Beel, who seems to have a sixth sense for the angel's food

"What the- Beel! Don't eat it all before we can get a bite!"

"Sorry...it's just so good."

Good luck trying to get a taste of Barbatos' food whenever he sends some over

Beel's third eye + sixth sense have activated and no leftovers are to be had

While Satan and Levi watch mysteries together (Lucifer sometimes opting to stand in the doorway and watch over their shoulders, but whether he's watching the film or watching his brothers bond is anyone's guess), Asmo and Mammon binge rom coms together

Mammon will deny it, though; especially if someone asks him if he got a pickup line from one of them

"Ugh, why can't they just get together already?! They clearly like each other, so what's stopping 'em?!"

Asmo gives him a nonplussed look. "Honey, it's called drama. And that's rich, coming from you."

"Wh-Whaddya mean by that?!" *Proceeds to try the same moves seen in the movie on you the next day, only for each attempt to fall flat*

Beel likes watching found family movies

He used to watch them alone after they Fell, remembering how much Lilith liked to sit with him and listen to his thoughts as they enjoyed it together. At the time, it was a source of comfort even though it made his heart ache

Surprisingly, it wasn't Belphie who found him first: it was Mammon. It was late at night, but he was a little hungry so he was making his way to the kitchen when he heard the TV

Seeing Beel and what was playing made him understand immediately what was happening, so without a word he tossed a bag of chips at Beel as he sat down

"Mammon?"

He hated seeing the deep sadness in Beel's eyes. He hated feeling like a failure. And most of all, he hated the rut everyone was stuck in. "How far in are ya?"

Beel's smile was radiant in the dark cover of night, his hand reaching to rewind the movie. "Not long."

Before they knew it, they were on their third movie and Belphie and Asmo had joined them, Levi coming in shortly after

Satan joined after hearing a laugh from the living room. He had glanced at the clock: 11:47pm. It was late, and usually he's the only one up at this time, so of course he investigated the source if the noise

"What's going on?"

"Ah, Satan!" Asmo waved him over, scooting so he had a spot on the couch. "I know it's not your style, but come watch with us!"

Satan realized what was happening. "In a minute." He was actually the one to go get Lucifer, threatening to bust down his door if he didn't get out this instant

"Yes, I abhor you with every fiber of my being, but it's not me who needs you right now."

Once Lucifer joined, everyone temporarily forgot about the crushing weight of failure on their shoulders. They could relax and have fun without worrying about the consequences, and it made Beel incredibly happy to see that those he cared about could still smile even after everything they've been through. They were so strong, stronger than him, and he's blessed to have them as his family -

"Beel, you're shakin' the couch!"

Levi's eyes widened. "Wh- Mammon! Catch the popcorn!"

"Oh sh- "

It ended up going all over Lucifer. The eldest blinked, and the silence that had descended upon them was broken with the sound of laughter.

"Sorry, Lucifer," Beel said honestly, standing up, "I'll go get a new bowl. Or two. Maybe three."

"It's alright, Beel." Lucifer flicked some bits at his laughing brothers (not even Satan was safe), smirking once their mirth turned into cries of indignation. "Belphie, pause the movie. It seems you all need to learn some manners."

It was a weak excuse and they knew it. Mammon threw some popcorn back at him, yelling "FOOD FIGHT!!" and the war begun

Beel stood in the entryway five minutes later, a big smile on his face as he watched his brothers have fun.

"I think we needed this." Belphie's voice came from his right. The other had somehow managed to escape the chaos intact, and for the first time since the Fall he seemed to be at peace. "So thank you, Beel."

Beel shook his head. "I should be thanking you all instead."

Belphie gave him an exasperated look. "Beel, just take the compliment for once."

And so he did.

Now, whenever Beel feels like watching a movie, everyone joins

You are not exempt from this, either

"(Y/N), come on. Everyone's waiting."

"Huh?"

Beel would always smile, wide and pure and innocent as nostalgia fills his eyes. "We're all watching movies together."

You scramble to get up. "I'll be right there!"

Mammon is a walking meme and he's the only one who doesn't know it

"Mammon, stop! You're gonna get in trouble!"

"What? Pfft, I'll be fine (Y/N)! The Great Mammon knows what he's doin'!"

He does not know what he's doing

He then gets into trouble, and the rest is history

Unlike what most people think, Asmo does like baking and appreciates it immensely

If you have a sweet tooth, be prepared to sample nearly everything he makes

It's okay; what you can't finish (or eat, since some desserts are fatal to humans), Beel eats

Belphie and Levi search the deep web together. Conversations with them the following day are always interesting.

"(Y/N), did you know that humans can only go 400 feet without using scuba gear before the water pressure becomes too great for their lungs to handle?"

"Oh yeah, and did you know that once they return to the surface, they cough up blood as their bodies attempt to reach homeostasis again? Humans are so fragile."

Dark humor usually comes from these two as well, but sometimes Beel says something dark purely on accident and it's always hilarious to hear it

Levi slams his hands down onto the dining table at dinner one day, eyes wide with a sudden realization. He opens his mouth, and you can just hear the mental "oh no"s coming from everyone.

"In the event of a nuclear blast, there's an instant where every single frozen pizza in a supermarket is cooked to perfection."

Asmo stills. Mammon chokes on his food. Lucifer pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a deep, world-weary sigh as you preform the Heimlich Maneuver on the Avatar of Greed.

Belphie, who looks strangely more awake than usual, just grins. "The same could be said of every human within the blast radius."

"Mmm," Beel hums as he swallows his food, a happy smile on his face, "Flavor Town!"

Satan snorts, covering it up with a cough as Belphie starts chuckling. You do too, if your brand of humor is dark as well.

Lucifer just wants the ground to envelop him whole, leaving not a trace behind. "Beel...no."

You thought Solomon's antics were done? Think again

In fact, the more time that passes, the worse and more frequent they get

One time at RAD, you caught him and Asmo hanging out outside, although Asmo was less "hanging out" and more "pole dancing without a care in the world"

Solomon had shades on (where did he get them? Nobody may know), and was aggressively singing "Somebody come get 'err, she's dancin' like a stripperrr. SOMEBODY COME GET 'ERR - "

You backed away immediately and could not take them seriously for the rest of your stay

Luke only visits you when he's certain that most of the brothers aren't around. He's fine if Beel is there, though, and usually bakes for him while talking with you

"If you ever need a break from these demons, Purgatory Hall is always open for you!"

"Luke, Beel's eating your batter again."

"Wh- BEEL!"

Solomon tries to introduce Simeon to human slang, and you end up becoming his unwitting accomplice. It does not go well.

Diavolo picked it up, though, and Lucifer glares at you whenever he says something strange

"Solomon, (Y/N)...would you say that demon over there had their "wig snatched"? Did I use it right?"

"Mm-hm, yup," You manage to choke out as Solomon is trembling beside you with laughter. If looks could kill, Lucifer would have both you and your future children decimated. "You got it right, Dia- Lord Diavolo."

Diavolo would never fail to light up, a smile on his face as he beamed. "I see. Human language never fails to amaze me!"

Lucifer refused to let you hang out with Solomon without at least one of his brothers there to supervise you. God knows what kind of mischief you two would get up to.

(Thank you for checking this out! Should I keep making these? Let me know what you think!)

[nestasgalpal]

The ball is in his court

Fixing ACOSF Part 8

Masterlist | AO3

Summary:  Cassian knows Nesta is supposed to dance with Eris and lure him into a stronger alliance with the Night Court. He knows he's been forbidden from getting close to her during the whole event. He knows she loves to dance. He knows he wants to be the one swinging with her.

A/N: angst because Cassian got very little character development in the book for someone who had that much family drama to deal with. It's not that big of a change as other chapters, but I thought it made sense to add this here with how these three acted in the ball.

Tagging: @gwynriel @zoyaslai @clolikescloquetas @amelievrstr  @t8astr8ng @wanderlustlastsforever @saltydreamcollector @lordlorcan @esrahiba @queenestarcheron  @jemstan300 @nessiantrashh @azrielsgirl @poisonus-bloom  @loveadora @frosted-crackers  @mireillemystique @pataytayo @968sunflower968 @caram267 @jainadurron @darkshadowqueensrule @amphiptree @finae-bookshelf @niytavia @brainlessfruit @dontgetsalmonella @messyhairday-me @sunsummoner  @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @wannawriteyouabook @psychoticminx @misswonderflower @drielecarla @silvernesta @k0ombayamylord @nina-zcnik​ @arinbelle​

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list in the upcoming chapters!! 

Cassian stood firmly on his feet as he made Mor spin once again. The House was playing music for them, and in some strange way, he felt it getting annoyed at how many times he had demanded to go- "Again". The waltz had just finished, and he was already positioning himself to start all over.

"Cass, you already know the moves, you've been dancing these for centuries" she laughed it off "I honestly don't think you need any more practice for tomorrow."

"Again" he insisted.

With a sigh, his friend went back to first position, seven feet away from him. The sound the House played for them was more like a trumpet with a shoe stuck in it than the beautiful harmonies they had been practicing with.

"Please, I want to make sure I get it right before we leave for the ball" Cassian gave her his best pout face, which made Mor roll her eyes.

"You are not going to dance with her, Cass. You got clear instructions from Rhys about that. I don't even know why I'm helping you with this, we both heard you are not allowed near her." The House probably felt like Mor was doing a good enough job at remprimanding him for his stubbornnes, because the melody of the waltz started playing again, and they moved to the sound of it. "Gods, you two are already making this way harder than it needs to be with your non-stop fucking" Cassian laughed, but Mor was not in the mood for joking, "This is serious. I heard Rhys complain about how long it took to hide your scent on her." With their palms in the air almost touching, they turned and gave two steps back "Behave." she reminded him of what his role was tomorrow night, and how important it was that he didn't ruin Nesta's mission by approaching her at all.

Cassian smiled again. "I'll try my best".

"Cassian" her tone made clear that she was not amused by the idea of what he may do with with all this dance practice.

"I know, I know. I'll be a good General Commander and stand by my High Lord's side the entire night, while she dances with Eris Vanserra" the lightness with which he spoke did very little to hide the feelings behind it. The jealousy.

Mor let him guide the dance, shadows in her eyes. Their imminent visit to Hewn City must be disturbing her, specially knowing both his father and Eris would be there. The stress of the negotiations with Vallahan was wearing her down as well.

"Why do you insist on going after her?" The sudden dryness she spoke with took him by surprise, and so did the question itself. Nesta and whatever the nature of his relationship with her was, wasn't a topic they ever talked about. For the last couple of years, they avoided the subject, pretending it didn't exist. That's why it felt so odd how mad she seemed to be now without any previous warning that the matter was present in her thoughts at all. That it could disturb her so much, was the most unexpected part of it.

It rubbed him the wrong way, but Cassian kept on moving, the smile in his eyes not fading one bit as he looked into hers to answer.

"Jealous that I'm spending my time with her and not you lately?"

The blonde's gaze pierced through him with a cold disdain he hadn't prepared himself for either. "Not at all. Unlike you, I understand what an order is." Ouch. "I don't blame you for following Rhys' command and babysitting her when he asked you to. She's your job, I guess."

"She is not a job"

"Cassian" His friend hardly ever called his full name. This was now the second time in a matter of minutes.

The conversation was taking a turn he didn't like as a sense of danger that made him on guard sat between them. But it was his best friend talking, his sister, so he ignored his instincts and kept moving to the rhythm. He tried to be graceful and move with precision, imagining it was Nesta's pale hand in his.

"I'm serious. You really need to come back from this recess sooner or later. Better if you choose the former, considering you have a job to do, a role to play as the rest of us do. Her included." The dance required him to spin her twice, an artificial pause in her speech as she twirled on his arms "I'm sure it was fun, but Feyre already revoked the order, so it's time you move on and take things seriously again. You have no idea how bad the treaty with Vallahan is going. We must prepare for the worse, have the armies ready".

"You think being here with her is some kind of vacation?"

The flow of her practiced movements didn't disappear for a second as she dissed Nesta, which was unsettling. Apparently, it came natural to her and putting these thoughts into words required no effort. For how long had Mor been thinking this way about his stay in the House of Wind?

"You sure smell like you are having a good time". Mor gave a step forward to the beat of the orchestra. Cassian didn't follow her movement, their bodies colliding.

It was now making him truly angry. Not just her usual dismiss of Nesta, which he had grown accustomed to, but the little care she was showing for him. He hadn't been working less on Illyria for the past months, his duty with Nesta being piled up on top of his previous responsibilities, and in addition to his new assignments as courtier to cover up her absence. He was working his ass off.

Countless, sleepless nights trying to come up with new ideas to help Nesta weren't something he had told her about, but she certainly knew about the exhaustion they put him through. The fighting, the struggle. Having to finally face how lost she was and stop pretending he had nothing to do with it had been a wake up call. Trying to put the pieces together, a painfully slow process they were still working on. They were achieving it bit by bit... and together, he wanted to think. It had been anything but a vacation.

His biggest regret, however, was printed all over her words, truth slipping through the cracks in the lie he had crafted for himself so long ago. That's why Mor's words hit him like a punch in the guts, because he had actually treated Nesta as a job in the beginning, and Nesta probably had thought the same thing -if she didn't still feel about it like that. A job. Cassian flinched. An order given to him to follow, and not his own decision to sought her and be there for her after the war.

"This is not time off for me, and, again, she is not a job."

Mor wasn't listening, "You need to be honest with yourself, Cass. You need to come to terms with whatever it is your cock feels for that female, and move on."

"You did not just say that" Cassian was speechless.

Knowing what she knows.

Cassian put distance between them and scanned the room looking for a chair, needing to sit down. There was one left alone by the wall where they had pushed it to have more space for their dancing. He sat before he felt his blood drop to his feet, his head uncomfortably light as his sight became dizzy.

Mor hadn't just said that. She would never cross him like that. Denial took over, his trustful self convincing him he just needed a moment to focus. Once he felt better, he would realize her words were only a friend worrying, not an attack on him. She was helping. Mor was always there for him when he needed a friend. She was only trying to give him some advice.

Then why did it hurt so much to hear those twisted truths from her mouth?

"Oh, come on!" she was saying behind him. Mor's words were distant and distorted, as if he were underwater. It took him a moment to understand and process them. "You saw what she became after the war just as clearly as I did. You did nothing about it, just like I did. And we were okay with that, we have our own life, Cass, and she doesn't fit in it. There is another war waiting for us in the corner that threatens to break this moment of happness we've built. For our future, you need to come back to be who you are, the Cassian I know. I miss him."

Once again, the plain truth. He had drifted away like everyone else. They had all decided that space was what she needed, and when that didn't work, it was once again them deciding what to do with the pieces that were left. He had agreed to every plan, convincing himself they knew what they were doing and they knew her better than she did. That they had any right to pick a path for her, the biggest lie of them all.

And now Mor's words were shattering the wall of self-inflicted fabrications he had slowly built while Nesta faded away from his reach. He took in his friend's words, their meaning. What she thought, and some of his friends -family- shared.

It made his heart skip a bit to realize that Nesta probably saw it like that too to this day. He had already accepted his mistakes to himself, he knew before the blonde said it what he had done wrong. Yet Cassian hadn't thought about how his actions were read from the outside. Nobody had called him out on his bullshit. Nobody had interfered -wasn't that what friends were supposed to do? So there it was, the reason why none of them had ever tried to help him smooth things between them: they didn't want him to. Stupidly and blindly trusting his friends would have the respect for him he had proven to have for them, he assumed they were just as blind as he was. Apparently, they weren't, and they had purposefully left her to rot.

Up until now, Cassian hadn't entertained the thought that she most likely didn't let him in because she also considered his presence there a task for him to handle, even if they had grown to be... friends.

That was it -a dead end for them.

No matter how hard he insisted on being there for Nesta now, he had already failed her too many times, and she simply wouldn't allow him to get closer a second time. Not the way he wanted to, at least.

His pulse was in his ears. Or maybe he was hearing again the dreadful noises the house played for them before.

Oh, Nesta.

Had she agreed to the plan because she didn't really care for him watching? Did Nesta not care because she simply didn't want to be anything else than friends in the end? Did she even trust him enough to call what they had a friendship?

A glass of red wine appeared on the table next to him and was it was in his hand a second later. Cassian swallowed its content in one sip. It was refilled instantly. Realization hit him right then and there, that he might be in time to save her, yet too late for what he wanted from her. And his ass would be the only one to blame for that. His cowardice. And how could he hope for a second chance from someone who didn't grant one to herself?

A movement in his field of vision took him out of his trance. Mor, who was carefully approaching him, gave a jump back when he got up from his chair, letting it fall back. The loud noise scared her too.

Those damned reports. He should have never agreed to that stupid idea. Nor to the plan they had for tomorrow night. Yes, she had agreed to it, but maybe if he had asked her not to... No, she would have still done it, convinced it was the only way she would not be seen as a coward.

Who gives a fuck about how anyone sees her. She certainly didn't use to. And he used to love that about her.

But now she clearly did, and was ready to do anything to change how he and his friends saw her. Even seducing Eris Vanserra right in front of him.

"Why can't you just leave her alone?" he asked, defeated at the thought that Nesta was indeed going to allow him to be by her side, but probably where he was right now was the closer he would ever get to tearing down her walls.

Mor looked back at him, marking the way his arms hung by his sides, the picture of a defeated male. She showed no compassion.

"Because I can't forget what she did to Feyre. I still remember the night she told us her story, what she went through. I see her grow every day and I'm reminded of who broke her in the first place. I can't let that slide like nothing." Cassian opened his mouth to say something, not knowing what exactly. He closed it again as Mor lifted a finger to stop whatever words he would have come up with from escaping his mouth. She was angry, "She let her 14 year old sister go wonder the woods next to the Wall all alone. Feyre was a child, Cassian. A kid who had to risk her life on a daily basis because your lover didn't want splinters in her fingernails."

Cassian sighed, tired of a conversation that kept circling back to the same point over and over again. He knew what Nesta's choices had meant to Feyre, but he had seen her regret as well, and what those same choices had done to her. Cassian had seen and heard the forgiveness coming from Feyre herself, her actions a window to what his High Lady needed: to move on. They had talked about it, his friend had opened up to him and she was obviously determined to have her sister back at any cost. And so was him. He was determined to help his friend and at the same time assist Nesta with whatever it was she needed... once she came to terms with what it was.

He had taken her to the old cabin they used to live in and had stand by her side as she scanned the place, finding only bad memories of the person she used to be. She wanted to move on as well. So if the two people involved wanted the same thing, why did their friends keep getting in the way using a wound that was already healing as an excuse.

"But you can forgive Elain?"

"Elain has at least tried to be one of us, Nesta has done nothing since she arrived but be against us."

Cassian laughed at that, a bitter, joyless laugh. "Elain is trying to be our friend, while Nesta doesn't like us. Is that it?" He chuckled again. "Are you telling me that the only reason you pick on her is that she doesn't want to be your friend and you can't just accept that? I thought it was her actions to Feyre in the past, but yes, this makes way more sense now." This time it was him stopping her from talking back, "I can see a pattern there. Isn't that the same reason you don't trust Lucien no matter how hard he works to help us? That he has his own life beyond us?" The volume of his voice went in crescendo as his anger rose to meet hers, "You can't be seriously expecting me to leave her because of a petty fight that only exists in your head."

"It's not just me, Cass. It's all of us. No one likes her, no one wants her around, and we are not having our days ruined every time she shows up so you can fuck her. You are not like this, you are not selfish like that." The indignation simmering in her brown eyes didn't make her an inch scarier to him, the childish reasons for it almost making him consider the argument over, hadn't him been so heated himself. "I want my friend back. And so does Rhys, who can't look at her -or Lucien, for that matter, without being reminded of what his mate went through before he found her."

Cassian snapped.

His siphons glowed scarlet red, goosebumps in his arms from the contained adrenaline rushing through his veins. He screamed at her in anger for the first time in... for the first time in as long as he could remember.

"Don't you dare try to make me feel like I'm a bad friend to Feyre to justify your bigotry. Don't you dare try to convince me that I'm the one hurting others, so I stay in my place while you do whatever the fuck you want and then blame the problems that surface on me. Don't you fucking dare play the victim of this when it's none of your business."

There had been genuine happiness in Feyre's eyes the night Nesta and her decided to give themselves one last chance.

Now Mor was reducing Feyre to nothing but an excuse for her own grudges. She was trying to yield her past suffering as a weapon against her sister, which would make Feyre just as furious as he was. She would never use the damage she experienced to hurt someone she loved, and that was the kind of friend he wanted in his life giving him advice. That was the kind of friend Cassian needed.

He had taken Nesta to the mountains and listened to her cry. He had heard from her mouth how she felt.

Worthless.

She had felt like she didn't deserve to be alive.

And apparently, Mor agreed.

It couldn't be wrong to have sympathy for her. It couldn't be wrong to want her. And he did want her. Cassian wanted everything with her. Was he a bad friend to Feyre for that? How, when his friend wanted the same thing?

"She saved my life twice. She was ready to die with me instead of running away. Does that mean nothing to you?" Above all, what broke Cassian's trust in her wasn't simply her disapproval of Nesta. Rather than that, what Cassian wasn't sure he could forgive was how little care she showed for him. "If you don't like her, that's fine. I don't care, and I can promise you she doesn't either. But don't you dare use Feyre or me as an excuse for it."

"I won't apologize for caring. I won't apologize for protecting my High Lady and my best friend, and the life you really want and deserve".

"At what point exactly did you decide Feyre's happiness was above Nesta's life? Was it after you met her, or had you already ranked your priorities the night Feyre told us about her sisters? Oh, sorry, our priorities, since apparently you know what I want better than I do." Cassian wasn't sure if he would have stopped his ranting right there if he had seen any regret coming from Mor, and he never got to find out. His friend's face was a mask of faked boredom as he spoke. "From all people, I would expect you guys to know what it's like to be perceived by outsiders in a way that's different from who you are as a measure of protection. You simply fail to understand that, for her, we've been the bad guys she has to be wary of since day one. And the reason is precisely that we made our minds clear about her in that fucking dinner party and refused to change it independently of what she did to be better".

He would know about it.

A blank expression was painted on her face. "You need to chill."

"Leave." he ordered. It was no up for discussion. Cassian couldn't even look at her right now. He was fuming and didn't want to say things he would later regret. As he opened the glass doors for Mor, he knew he would, unless one of them left.

"Are you seriously going to let a stupid fight about her get between us?"

It was the way she said her. Like she had said it a hundred times before, like others had pronounced as well, including him not so long ago.

Cassian turned to face the blonde, a special kind of anger glimmering in his eyes.

"Me?!" he screamed. Mor gave instinctively a step back, "Am I going to let it get between us!? You are the one who brought her up, Mor. You are the one who has a problem, and I'm the one pretending you don't trash her at every chance you get, so we can still be friends. I'm not the one letting an argument get between us, for the only thing I've been doing over five hundred years is make everything easier for you. And now, I'm done." Her eyes went wide.

But Cassian was now beyond turning. He had tried to leave and make her go to avoid exactly what was about to happen, "Are you seriously going to let a stupid sister fight only you care about at this point get between me and my happiness? You really despise her so much you would take the chance of being happy with Nesta away from me only to make her miserable?" he spat.

Cassian took a step forward and Mor gave another one back at the same time, recoiling. There was fear in her face as he made his way to her, a kind of fear he had never seen on her features whilst looking at him. "Just look at me in the eye and answer this question, Mor, and I promise there won't be more fights between us for better or worse: Would you rather have me unsatisfied for the rest of my days than have me happy, if that requires her being blissful as well? "

Her silence was too long. It was too damn long.

Cassian spread his wings, the glimmer of his siphons mirroring his anger, and went for the glass doors.

"I only want to protect you." Mor cried behind him. Cassian walked fast, but she was at his heels when he reached the banister, begging him to stop and listen.

One single tear run down her beautiful face. If any other person had made her shed a tear, he would be the first one going after them to make them suffer unimaginable pain. Mor was his best friend, had always been. Cassian thought there was nobody in the world he wouldn't at least beat up for making her sad the way she looked now. But he heard her whimper, saw the hurt, and realized it was too little compared to what she had inflicted on him. On Nesta.

She had gone too far. And at the same time, she was giving him too little.

He turned to face her, needing to make sure he wasn't making a mistake. A part of him refused to believe this was actually happening, wanted to trust in that, once he met her eyes again, he would see regret in her pupils. The hope he had learned from her ages ago making him give her one last look before he aimed for the sky.

Of course, Mor was too stubborn to show any kind of surrender. Too proud to be regretful.

"I am a 500 year old warrior. She is a 25 year old female whose family she can't talk to without pushing them away. And you think I'm the one who needs protection because she is mean to those she doesn't like."

It was not a question. Cassian wanted Mor to hear what her case sound like to him. Before he left, Cassian wanted her to know this was not going to be a short argument and they wouldn't be having lunch together next week. It was a breaking point in their friendship, and he was going to stand on this hill as long as it took, unmoving no matter how many jibes she trowed at him or how many tears wetted her face.

Mor cried in silence, and only because the winter breeze was cooling him down, he didn't get angrier at her for that, at himself, and at the world. Why did they always find a way to make things harder than they should be?

"Wait, please, don't go." The sound of his wings spreading again almost prevented him from hearing her whimper as she said, "I can still teach you one last dance," she murmured. Cassian listened carefully, she didn't dare moving, monitoring his position as if he were a wild animal and she was a rabbit trying to be discrete to not become his prey "There is one gavotte they are likely to play. She is so good at it, you would think she's known the moves for decades and not days."

A temtative hand reached for his arm and stayed there. He had never seen Mor stutter, especially when it came to him. Cassian had always been her best friend, the one who never got mad at her and she could count on. Now she was unsure if he was leaving for the day, or if he was flying away from her for Cauldron knows how long. She didn't tighten her grip on him when he didn't push her away, it remained light and unsure. "I think you already know it, but we can practice that one a couple of times. Just in case you get a chance to dance with her. You'll look great by her side... like it's meant to be".

Cassian noticed his cheeks were wet as well. His gaze burned so fiercely Mor couldn't hold his stare. With anger still painted all over his features, Cassian nodded and followed her inside again.

Mor didn't say a bad word about her for the rest of the evening, and even if he couldn't know where she went afterwards to rant about it, he appreciated her silence.

---

A couple of minutes after her orgasm, Nesta's legs were still shaking. Cassian drove his hand up and down her thighs, feeling her soft skin with the excuse of a massage to help her muscles relax.

He needed to calm down as well -it had been a particularly long day. Nesta had been happy to follow him into his room after dinner, feeling something was off. He had to restrain himself from telling her when she asked about it. First, because he didn't want her to know he was taking dance lessons with Mor. She would know the reason behind it in a second, and he didn't feel like exposing himself like that for a second time that day.

He also couldn't tell her about the argument that hours later still kept his head bussy. He didn't want her to know how frivolously she had been discussed, what both Mor and him had said about her in the same living room where their kisses after dinner had started.

Nesta's breathing was steady, tranquil. His cock was still inside her. He needed to feel her touch. She wasn't in conditions to leave his room even if he came out of her, but Cassian didn't want to give her a chance to get rid of him just yet. He needed her presence there a little longer.

Nesta's fingers tangled themselves in his hair, pressing his head to the crook of her neck. He kissed the soft skin and felt her pulse beat fast against his lips. The path of wet kisses he planted all the way up to the spot behind her ear made her moan.

Cassian felt his blood rushing back to his cock.

With his hands, he cupped her breasts. A sigh escaped her swollen lips, his own closing around a hard nipple. Cassian marked with kisses and playful bites his way down her abdomen to the apex of her thighs. Nesta's let a loud moan escape when his tongue hit with precision her bundle of nerves, drawing circles around it. Teasing her. Making her wetter if that was even possible.

Unaffected by Nesta's pleas, he enjoyed playing with her, his mouth exploring her folds as if wanting to drink her in. Cassian couldn't hear anything, the sinful sounds she let out a song his blood echoed, roaring in his ears. Her hand found his head, her hips clashing against him as she tried to ride his face. Oh, he loved it when she did that, so desperate to have him closer, for his touch to never leave her.

It was his lust what determined every movement his body made, convincing Casian he could reach heaven just by climbing up her hips. Cassian didn't stop until he felt her thighs clench the sides of his head. The hand that held him fixed between her legs became a fist in his hair, encouraging him to keep going, keep licking and keep playing with her most sensitive spot until his tongue took her over the edge one more time.

Yet he hadn't had enough of her. He needed more and more, and after each time they slept together, the urge to have her again grew stronger, as Cassian became more impatient for the next time. Nesta felt the same way, by how her hands found his wings by reaching behind his shoulders and aroused him again. A grin spread through her face when he let his lover play with him in whatever way she pleased. Whatever she wanted from him, Cassian would give.

He climaxed one more time all over her breasts, before he finally renounced to her body. He was content resting by her side, their legs tangled under the sheets.

It was now a matter of time before Nesta left his room.

Cassian's legs tangled with hers. Nesta moved idly against him, making herself comfortable. Their bodies fitted together like pieces from a jigsaw puzzle, their breaths the only sound in the room. He could tell she was cold as he once again found himself caressing her arms, pale like porcelain under the moonlight that came through the window. Cassian pulled the sheets to cover them and planted a kiss on her forehead.

Nesta had her walls down. She looked so peaceful curled up against him.

"You don't like us, do you?" even if he whispered the words, they were loud in the silence of the room.

Nesta was fighting to focus her sight, just as tired as he was. "What do you mean?" Oh Cauldron. That raspy voice of hers after sex. Too much moaning for her own good. And he hadn't even enjoyed her throat that night. He had to picture terrible things in his head so his cock would behave and not react to her "that was really great sex" voice.

"My friends and I. The Inner Circle as a whole, you could say." His hand rested in the small of Nesta's back, drawing lazy circles.

She maneuvered to get rid of his touch, sitting up on the bed. The absence of her body against him was painfully obvious. Cassian laid on his back, fighting the impulse to sit up as well. He moved his hands to his nape with faked laziness, as if the question was simple small talk. Yeah... the small talk they never had after sex. Not weird or suspicious at all.

Good job, you idiot. She's not coming to your room in weeks. He cursed himself.

He couldn't withdraw now, it was too late. Nesta's gaze was feline. On guard.

"I don't think I dislike any of you more than you dislike me."

"Hey, I don't dislike you!" he ignored the cautiosness on her tone. He would pretend everything was okay and pray Nesta somehow went with it, "I would say, in fact, that I am very fond of you. And so is Az, for what's worth."

She smiled, a cold grin that didn't seem to fit with the rest of her face, still flushed, eyes glassy and tired. "Then you don't have to worry about it." He said nothing, only kept looking at her. He had learned that, if he waited long enough, she would go on. It could be only to insult him and then leave... but she would go on.

---

Nesta sighed. Where was he going with this? What was she even supposed to respond? No, she didn't like half of them... that if she counted the ones she barely tolerated. But she could sit in the same table as them and be civil. She was even working for them, so why he would bring that up two minutes after he came all over her, was beyond Nesta.

"I thought you didn't care what your friends thought of this" she pointed between the two of them, her gesture just as calculatedly casual as his had been.

A wet washcloth appeared on his nightstand. Nesta mentally thanked the house for her timing. If she was forced to have this conversation, she would rather be clean for it. Nesta rubbed it on her chest, Cassian's gaze following and fixing on her breasts. She cleared her throat, urging him to answer.

"And I don't. I was just curious if you did."

Nesta sigh.

"You've snapped at me before for calling one of you an asshole, Cassian. Do you really expect me to go on a detailed answer on how much I value them and their opinions?" Cassian tightened his jaw, but didn't answer. He waited for her to go on, knowing his silence was pressure enough for her to give in and talk.

If she said she didn't mind what they thought of her, she would be lying. But if she told him she did care, she would be lying as well. It wasn't that simple, a "yes" or a "no".

Nesta cared and worried about their opinions, not because she valued their judgement, but because she was still afraid she didn't have enough power in that Court to face their truth with hers. She had her own thoughts about them, but they didn't have the weight on Cassian one word from any of his friends had.

Nobody ever asked her what she thought of them, because it didn't really matter. Yet everyone expected Nesta to take into consideration what they wanted -who they expected her to be. They had crossed the line in the most disgusting ways to make sure she did the right changes to fit into the mold they had created for her. And Cassian had been a part of it.

Now, from all people, Cassian was asking.

"Don't mention them when we are in bed if you want to see me here again." that was the little bargain power she was sure she had over him. The territory she could claim for herself.

Once again, it took Cassian some time to come up with his own words. Nesta's brain was going a thousand thoughts per minute, reading his face, his body, trying to anticipate where he was going to strike next. He had chosen to bring this up right after sex, when she was slower with her wit. Prick.

When Nesta thought he simply wouldn't answer, Cassian finally sat on the mattress, shoulders down, his body apparently relaxed, his muscles tense and wings tucked in "I know this is just sex, and that's enough for me. I'll take it." As he mouthed the words, Nesta came out of the mist that clouded her thoughts, ready to cover up any crack on her armor. "I just want to know if my friends have anything to do with you not wanting... more."

For that, the answer was yes. She did worry what they thought of Cassian and her being... close, only because she wasn't sure what Cassian would do if they didn't approve of them together.

Nesta didn't care, but she worried what it would mean for her if they asked him to leave. Nesta was sure she meant enough to Cassian for him to put on some resistance. But when push came to shove, if they ever asked him to choose, she doubted Cassian would put her before them.

And she wasn't ready to be broken like that.

There was one thing about Cassian she admired above anything else he had and was, and that was his loyalty. Absolutely unmoving. She saw first-hand how this male loved, so ardently, so unwavering. If Cassian was asked to choose and chose his friends, she wouldn't blame him, she would understand. She had seen him put his life on the line for them without thinking, the act natural to him.

It was knowing that Cassian wasn't the obedient dog others had claimed him to be what would be devastating for her. To be so sure that he didn't feel the need to follow his High Lord to the end of the world.

If he chose them, duty wouldn't be the reason. Cassian would do it because he literally loved them more.

It was precisely that what made her so afraid to let him in. To not know if whatever he wanted from her would ever mean to him as much as the bonds he already had. If there was a chance for him to value it even above those. Because she wouldn't take less.

Nesta couldn't tell him she didn't care what they thought, for it would be a lie. And she couldn't tell him about her reasons either without bearing her heart more than she was ready for. And every time she reminded him -or herself- that it was just sex, she remembered why she refused to give him anything else.

So yes, Nesta cared about what they thought only because she feared them in a way Cassian wouldn't understand. He had defended them against her in the past like he didn't know that side of them existed at all.

Unable to answer, Nesta nodded.

Cassian took in her gesture. At his silence, Nesta practically launched herself out of Cassian's bed, aiming for the door and grabbing her nightgown on her way.

He was there before she could grip the knob. His hand slammed the door to make sure she couldn't open it. Nesta turned on her heels to face him, angry at how aggressive his gesture was. At the audacity to behave like this after she gave him the answer he had asked for, only because he hadn't liked it.

She was trapped between his body and the wooden door, her face an inch apart from his naked chest. Because they were still naked. He banged his head against the door and closed his eyes.

"You know I would give my life for you. In a heartbeat. Without hesitation." Nesta could feel her mouth dry. She couldn't believe he was making a scene about this, considering what her mission the next day. What had happened that afternoon before she came back from the Library to shake him like this? "You know that, right?" Cassian insisted.

She nodded one more time, her forehead brushing his shoulder.

"I know you have good reasons to want them far away from you, Nes, but they are part of my life. My family. When I ask myself what I want in my future, I know I want them in it. We've been through so much together that I really can't picture my life without them at this point. To be honest, I don't want to picture it either."

Nesta's throat burned and so did her eyes, lined with tears. She wasn't ready to listen to this coming from his lips.

"But I want you too, and I don't even know if you think that's possible or if I'm making a fool of myself by trying to go after you."

She was glad Cassian had his eyes closed so he wouldn't see the mess she became as his words hit her. Nesta closed them as well, so the tears didn't come out. "We have a mission tomorrow, Cassian. I need to get some sleep and be well rested."

He didn't move.

"Let's not jeopardy the mission for a question you already know the answer for".

In a matter of hours she was going to be dancing with Eris in Hewn City trying to lure him into an alliance with his beloved friends because they had asked that from her. And she had agreed because the future of the frail political situation they were in depended on it. She needed to focus her mind back on that. She told herself that by doing so, she would forget about his confrontation, and by some miracle he wouldn't bring it up again after that.

"Why did you even accept to help with that plan, Nesta?" Cassian asked again, an angry whisper in her ear.

Because it's worse to stay in my room while you are there with them and wonder if you would vanish away once again if I don't follow all of you wherever you go.

The low light of the lamp threw shadows on Cassian's hazel eyes when he opened them to look straight into hers. They were so beautiful. He stretched his arm to cup her hand, but Nesta hid it in her lap before he could.

His arm hung there for a moment, as if not knowing what to do with it.

Don't worry, Cassian, I'm choosing this for myself. I'll do it. I want to do it.

And in return, she only asked him to keep things casual.

Nesta knew it was unfair to him. She was giving him no choice. It was selfish. But no one expected anything better from her anyway. She was self-absorbed, everyone knew that. It seemed to be her defining characteristic in their eyes from the beginning. No need to change that now. The only thing Nesta was willing to replace was her relationship with herself, with who she was. The only goal in her mind was to be as ready to fight for her life as she was to give it for others. Only then, she would be able to share her heart the way she wanted to. And if he was still around when that happened, she would gladly give him a piece. Just not yet.

It would take time, but he had promised to stay no matter how long it took. He had sworn.

Her voice was too close to cracking. "You should go get some rest as well. Don't think too much about this, Cassian. It's just sex, remember?"

"Just sex" he agreed.

Nesta moved her hands up and carefully placed them on his chest to push him away. He obediently gave a step back, freeing her. She went straight for the door knob and opened it. Nesta exited as fast as she could to turn her back on him before he saw the effect his damned questions had had on her.

"And I have no intention of changing that for my own reasons. Your friends have nothing to do with it."

It's you, she thought.

"So many things are happening to me at the same time," she said instead, "that...I don't even know how to deal with them and not have a breakdown every five minutes. I need you to be the one thing in my life that is easy. Please." there was no point in hiding her weeping anymore. "And I don't need anyone to die for me. I would hate that, actually. I want someone who is going to stay alive and by my side all the way. And that's why you need to let go." Nesta wasn't sure whose heartbeat she was hearing, but it was thundering at an alarming pace.

"I understand" he said. His voice was not her lover's caring tone, nor her friend's easy-going voice. He was putting distance between them, making it impersonal. She didn't blame him, as she did the same thing and closed the door behind her.

She went straight to her room and asked the House to warm up the cold space.

There were no dreams for her that night.

---

On the same room one floor above, Cassian stared at the ceiling for hours, unable to find sleep.

The sun came up before he got to close his eyes, still thinking about what Nesta had asked from him. What his High Lord had asked from him aligning with her request as well. What Mor thought of it all. The ball and Eris being the one to spend the entire night with Nesta Archeron.

He had a job to do, a character to play he knew too well to mess it up even if he had gotten no rest, so that part didn't worry him one bit.

Only when he finally got up with the first rays of sunshine, Cassian came to terms with what he would do that night and how far was he willing to go. If what he wanted for himself was worth risking all the good things he already had, both with his friends and with her.

Maybe it was time to stop being a coward who adapted to the group's needs. Maybe it was time he gave the first step. Or perhaps he would do better waiting, not rushing things and allowing people to come to him whenever they were ready. No. The person he had in mind the entire night and kept him from resting would never go to him, pride and uncertainty preventing her from taking risks with him. Yet one step too far could mean three steps back, and then none of it would be worth it.

Mor was right, he was not being his old self as he took a cold shower, put on his leathers, and flew to the River House to put Rhys' plan for tonight into motion. Cassian was not being the illyrian Commander they had always known when he stepped into Hewn City armed to his teeth and ready to improvise and do absolutely everything his heart asked him to do.

[foxghost]

Joyful Reunion, Chapter 109

Translator: foxghost @foxghost tumblr/ko-fi1 Beta: meet-me-in-oblivion @meet-me-in-oblivion tumblr Original by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang Masterpost | Characters, Maps & Other Reference Index

Book 3, Chapter 24 (Part 4)

Lang Junxia swings his leg over the horse’s back in the dark, and hurriedly leaves as the rest of them stare off after him.

Out of the four, Zheng Yan is the only one looking battered and exhausted. He’s plainly the least involved, yet he’s spent all night running around, swimming one moment and getting injured the next, even jumping into the river twice.

“Come over to my house and let’s get you bandaged,” Duan Ling says.

Zheng Yan hums an agreement absentmindedly, clearly still thinking about something. Duan Ling notices that all of them are out of sorts, though the one who really ought to be preoccupied has to be himself. Wu Du still seems pretty normal, but Chang Liujun and Zheng Yan look like they’re sleepwalking. Duan Ling gives Chang Liujun a pat on the back. “Hey, Chang Liujun? You alright?”

“Just leave me alone!” Chang Liujun flies off the handle.

Chang Liujun has clearly had one too many surprises, and he can’t even walk straight anymore. First it’s Mu Qing getting kidnapped, and him spending most of the night on edge over it, then it’s the crown prince being taken hostage, and finally right before Amga left, he threw them a bolt out of the blue. All this has left him in a state of extreme shock.

But he doesn’t ask any questions at all. As soon as he returns to the estate, he leaves them to report to Mu Kuangda. Duan Ling had been drunk earlier, and the situation changed too quickly; it took him almost an hour of getting windblown by the river before he sobered up and began to feel terrified about the evening well after the fact. He must sort out everything he has learned as soon as possible, for too much has happened this evening.

Once they step through the door, Duan Ling goes looking for an ointment while Zheng Yan ignores them and sits down. “Bring me some wine.”

Meanwhile, Duan Ling gives Wu Du’s chest a pat, and Wu Du nods back at him to let him know he still has the stuff. “I’ll head over to the estate and find him some wine to drink.”

Zheng Yan strips himself down to the waist, leaving his robe bundled up around his waist, revealing an expanse of pale muscle; he’s still deep in thought.

Duan Ling gets the ointment ready and kneels down at his side, planning to apply it to his wounds. “How did you get hurt?”

“Got hit with a sabre underwater,” Zheng Yan replies absentmindedly. He seems rather distracted.

Out of the four assassins, Wu Du held back and bided his time through the entire affair, Chang Liujun didn’t draw his sword, while Lang Junxia dallied over how Cai Yan was on one side and Duan Ling was on the other. Only Zheng Yan threw all his strength behind saving this “crown prince” as though his life depended on it. Why did you work so hard to save him? What did Cai Yan ever give you?

Of course he wasn’t given anything; Zheng Yan had merely fulfilled his duty. Duan Ling did think that the first to jump into the river when Cai Yan fell in would be Lang Junxia; he never thought Zheng Yan would be the one to jump in without any hesitation. As he thinks about this Duan Ling can’t help but feel a bit moved; it may have seemed like the one Zheng Yan saved was Cai Yan, but in reality the one he carried out of the water was actually Duan Ling himself.

Zheng Yan is immersed in his thoughts, a deep furrow forming between his brows. Duan Ling knows that he must have heard what Amga said before he left, and he’s meditating on it now. Has he had some inkling that something isn’t quite right? Duan Ling isn’t sure whether Zheng Yan knows his dad or not, and whose side he’s really on.

Before Duan Ling does anything else, he cleans Zheng Yan’s wound, swollen and pale from all the time it spent in the water. Then he grabs a plate and dissolves the medicinal powder in the ointment. Finally pulling himself back to the present, Zheng Yan turns and stares unblinkingly at Duan Ling.

“What did Amga say in the end?” Zheng Yan says suddenly, “When I came out of the water all I heard was splashing water and I didn’t quite catch it.”

Duan Ling falls silent for a moment before he says, “I didn’t quite catch it either. Let’s take off your glove.”

Zheng Yan puts his hand on the table, and Duan Ling slides his finger under the edge of the glove to take it off. It’s woven with thin silk-like strands of metal, presumably for catching concealed weapons and fighting hand-to-hand against a blade. There’s a black-inked white tiger tattoo in ancient script on the back of Zheng Yan’s hand.

It’s this tattoo again; Lang Junxia’s tattoo is on his arm, Wu Du’s tattoo is on his neck, while Chang Liujun’s tattoo is on his face.

Noticing that Duan Ling has caught sight of his tattoo, Zheng Yan gives him another look.

“It’s the same as Wu Du’s.” Duan Ling leaves the glove in a wooden basin to dry, and cleans Zheng Yan’s arm and palm with a dry cloth before applying ointment.

“Did Chang Liujun catch what he said?” As though he’s turned into someone else, Zheng Yan says coldly.

“I think … he may have caught it.”

And thus Zheng Yan stops talking, and they both fall silent for a bit. Duan Ling finishes applying ointment, wraps Zheng Yan’s arm in bandages, and Zheng Yan’s gaze turns to Duan Ling’s face again.

“You’re rather pretty,” Zheng Yan murmurs, then putting one hand against Duan Ling’s chin to make him look up a little, his eyes focused on Duan Ling’s lips. As he does so his expression changes as though he has a mind to try something. Duan Ling’s heart is drawn all the way to his throat in an instant.

It all happens in the blink of an eye; the corner of Duan Ling’s mouth curls into a half smile, and raising a hand against Zheng Yan’s, he moves it aside. Zheng Yan’s eyebrow draws together in a frown again.

“What are you trying to do?” Duan Ling backs away from him. He wonders if Zheng Yan has discovered anything in that brief moment earlier. He still remembers his father telling him before that the shape of his lips is hereditary. Zheng Yan is familiar with the Marquess of Yao’s family, so he must have met Duan Ling’s aunt as well — would he ever associate Duan Ling’s features to hers?

“Being with Wu Du is boring.” Zheng Yan is back to his usual self, smiling roguishly at him. “Why don’t you come have some fun with me? Let me take good care of you for three days and three nights and you’ll never be able to leave me, I guarantee.”

“Did you teach His Highness how to have fun? I noticed that you were quite ready to jump into the water earlier.”

“Now that’s not something you can just say. You think your head’s attached to your shoulder too securely, I’m afraid?”

Duan Ling wants to change the subject to Cai Yan to get a handle on Zheng Yan’s attitude towards him. “Who was the one that was with him today?”

“That guy’s name is Feng Duo. Treacherous as hell. Don’t get on his bad side.”

Wu Du has come back, and he puts a jar of wine on the table. “Drink it, then hurry up and go. We’re damn sleepy.” Then he starts stripping and changing into the casual clothes he wears at home as if Zheng Yan isn’t even there. As it occurs to him, he says to Duan Ling, “Get Zheng Yan a clean suit of clothes.”

Zheng Yan waves to tell him there’s no need. He picks up the jar, takes a mouthful, and promptly spits out the whole lot.

“What is this? Your piss?” Zheng Yan says with his face contorted.

Wu Du has finished changing his clothes, and folding up those sheets of paper, he puts it in his sword case. “Why do you talk so much? It’s the middle of the night. Where am I supposed to find you good wine? I got that from the kitchen.”

Duan Ling has a headache from the wind, and so he goes to lie down on the bed to listen to their conversation. Wu Du asks Duan Ling, “You asleep?”

“I’m awake.” Duan Ling turns over, facing Wu Du and Zheng Yan. “Who’s Feng Duo?”

“A criminal,” Zheng Yan replies. “He colluded with a foreign power. He was sentenced to death and scheduled to be executed after autumn, but the capital was relocated in autumn so he relocated along with us to Jiangzhou.”

“What was the crime he committed?” Wu Du isn’t really informed about stuff that happened at court either.

Zheng Yan replies languidly, “Thirteen years ago, Southern Chen set up a plan to sow dissension in Liao. Fei Hongde lobbied the Yelü family to accuse the Liao capital’s literati Cai clan of ‘awaiting an opportunity to commit treason’. Before he joined the Shadow Guard, Feng Duo’s older sister married a Cai, and in order to save his sister he leaked this information to Cai Ye. After that he was sold out by someone in the shadow guard and off to jail he went …”

Duan Ling and Wu Du exchange a look, communicating silently that they’re both aware of why Cai Yan chose Feng Duo now. And seemingly not paying any attention, Zheng Yan drinks another mouthful of wine.

At the same time, candle flames flicker in the darkened palace.

As though he’s scared out his wits, Cai Yan keeps gasping for breath. Even after he’s changed his clothes, there’s still nothing but fear in his eyes. His lips have gone pale; he couldn’t calm down.

Lang Junxia is sitting before the table, quietly pondering over his tea.

Cai Yan finally calms himself down, and with a few steps he’s already in front of Lang Junxia. The very moment he reaches out, it’s to slap Lang Junxia across the face in one ringing, clean smack.

“How … How dare you …”

Lang Junxia doesn’t say anything at all, and the next thing Cai Yan does is to kick with all his might, turning over the table in front of him, sending it crashing against the floor.

“Say something!” As though he’s gone mad, Cai Yan howls at Lang Junxia, “Say something —!”

“It’s gotten quite late,” Lang Junxia replies, “you should get some sleep, Your Highness.”

“You traitor!” Cai Yan howls. “You double-crossing turncoat! You scoundrel!”

In a flash, a sword shimmering with cold light is up against Cai Yan’s throat; he hasn’t even noticed when the sword actually left its sheath, and Lang Junxia is already gripping firmly onto the other end of the sword.

He realises then, that he’s dismissed all of his attendants, and Lang Junxia can at any given time run through his throat with a light touch of his blade.

Cai Yan takes a half step back, but the Qingfengjian follows him the same distance, as though it’s his shadow.

“Your Highness mustn’t make so much noise.” Lang Junxia lowers his voice and says solemnly, “Otherwise all that’s going to happen is get us both killed for no good reason.”

Cai Yan calms himself and backs away another half step. This time, the blade does not follow him.

“It’s too late … It’s too late.” Cai Yan says, trembling. “They all heard what he said. Especially Zheng Yan. He’ll definitely tell my uncle.”

“That’s not your uncle.” Lang Junxia sheathes his sword casually, and his tone is without emotion. “That’s someone else’s uncle.”

“You’ll kill him for me, won’t you?” Cai Yan says, gasping. “He got lucky and managed to escape, so you’ll help me kill him again, and then kill everyone who heard those words. Lang Junxia, just like what you promised me — as long as I’m in this position, no living person will ever know.”

“Humans can only do so much,” Lang Junxia says thus, “I’ll try my best. Drink some calming soup and get some sleep. Once you fall asleep you won’t be scared anymore.”

“Kill him. Go kill him now. I’m begging you! Lang Junxia!”

Cai Yan throws himself at him, but Lang Junxia spins around, grabs Cai Yan by the collar, and pushes him to the edge of the bed. He whispers in Cai Yan’s ear, “Your Highness, killing a random person who has nothing to do with you will only make Mu Kuangda suspicious. Don’t forget, Chang Liujun also heard what was said tonight.”

With some difficulty, Cai Yan swallows. Lang Junxia doesn’t say anything else, and he turns to leave the room.

Over and over again, Cai Yan is thinking about how Duan Ling is still alive one moment and the thought fills him with unimaginable fear, then the next moment he’s thinking about how Amga has yelled the truth at them, and how he’s going to have to answer if Li Yanqiu asks him about it. Amga is just trying to throw confusion into the mix! Slander! It’s clearly slander!

On his initial return to court the rumours had been flying as well, and ultimately it was Wu Du who made the final judgement and verified his identity. Yet how has Duan Ling made it to Wu Du’s side?! Wu Du called him “Wang Shan” … Is Wu Du aware of who he is?

Wu Du had never met him before, and Duan Ling also had no way of proving his own identity, so how on earth did he manage to survive?

Cai Yan sits up again, and says to the attendant standing outside, “Send for Feng. Hurry. Send him in.”

Feng comes in, and he’s come in such a hurry that he hasn’t even had a chance to change his clothes. He stands outside the bed curtains and asks, “What does Your Highness require?”

Cai Yan thinks it over for a long time. The words are at the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t know where to begin. Finally he can only say with exhaustion, “Sit over there. Just sit down.”

And so Feng sits down nearby. Cai Yan heaves a long sigh, leaning against the pillow, pale and wan, staring weakly at the ceiling of the bed.

“Does Your Highness need to summon the imperial physician to take a look?”

“No.”

He’s already thinking about how he can escape from the palace and leave it all behind, but where can he ever go? Zheng Yan, Wu Du, Chang Liujun … every one of them are experts in the martial arts. Without Lang Junxia’s protection, chasing him down would be child’s play. He has violated the oath he made before Li Jianhong, and it torments him as though he will live in a raging fire for eternity, never shall he find peace.

And even so, he never once thinks about begging for Duan Ling’s forgiveness. He knows that Duan Ling won’t forgive him — even if Duan Ling acquiesces, Li Yanqiu would definitely make mincemeat out of him. Worst comes to worst, he can always poison Li Yanqiu … kill him too … kill everyone … An extremely hideous thought flashes across the recesses of Cai Yan’s mind, and the thought seems to drain him of all his strength, making him fall asleep in a daze.

I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎

[lesbiansouplol]

A Very Upset Rant At 4 am Even Though I Have To Get Up Early Tomorrow.

“The fact is, you’re a terrible person. Not because of the choices you make, not even because you repeat the choices you make, but because not once have you apologized for actions that were clearly unacceptable by the standards of society."

NOTE: I was very, very upset when I wrote this. To be honest I've written stuff like this a lot, just angry rants to myself, but I'm hoping maybe if I put it somewhere someone can see, it would help me feel like I actually got my feelings out, instead of just deleting a whole page of writing.

TW: An*rexia mentions, S*lf h*rm mentions, and several mentions of a toxic/manipulative parent/parent figure. please take care of yourselves.

I know this is dumb and I’ll probably delete it later, but I really need to get this off my chest.

My entire life, I don’t think you’ve listened to me. I was admittedly a brat as a child, but the fact that you still don’t see me as a person on the same level as you is frustrating to say the least.

I’ve tried to have adult conversations with you, I’ve tried to reach out in a friendly way so we can be closer, and I’ve tried coming to you seeking guidance when I felt lost.

But every single time I was met with the wall you’ve built around yourself.

A wall of defensiveness, pain, and intolerance.

Seeking a friend, you didn’t have time.

Seeking guidance, it was entirely my fault.

Seeking to be heard, I was shut out.

“Why don’t you talk to me about anything? My job is to help you.” I’m sorry for the inconvenience but that is a full time job. You don’t get to pick and choose when I need help with something so you can come to the rescue, and you don’t get to put my problems on hold for when you feel ready to handle them.

You don’t listen, and then complain that your children don’t listen to you.

You don’t help, and then complain about how we never help.

We are a reflection of you, and you hate us.

A narcissist? Maybe. Depressed? Possibly. But a hypocrite nonetheless.

Your self loathing goes so deep that you’ve projected it onto us in every fit of rage, not even caring how that might affect us.

Clearly, everything that goes wrong is our faults, nothing could be yours.

You’re always right.

You scream, and yell, and throw things. You’ve called me useless more times than I can count, you’ve told me I don’t care about anything, and that I’m selfish.

Even though all I’ve cared about for the past 15 fucking years was trying desperately to not disappoint you.

But I did disappoint you, didn’t I? I disappointed myself, setting my standards higher and higher until I couldn’t breathe under the weight.

But you enjoyed that, didn’t you? “Why can’t you be more like your sister?” you used me as a weapon against those I loved, but I loved you too much to not revel in the fact that you noticed me.

Again and again I watched my siblings spiral, eventually accepting they wouldn’t ever be good enough to please you. But I was late to the game.

I was so close to getting your affection.

So close to being someone you’d be proud of.

So I pushed, and pushed, and I stopped eating, and I bled, and I worked harder, and I drowned.

You held my head underwater promising love if I could get to the surface without making you let go.

And now I’m left alone, in the middle of the night, praying to a god that you’ve forced me to believe in, hoping you won’t hear my sobs through the thin walls.

I’m broken, and I’m picking up the scattered pieces of dreams and opportunities you didn’t quite approve of.

I’m mourning the lost money, experiences, and happiness you had me throw into the wind without reason.

And I’m not free yet, I have a ways to go before the forest clears and I can admire the sheer beauty of the life I will create for myself.

But the first step was moving past you, so…

Goodbye, Mother. I wish you the best.

Sincerely, your daughter.

[valntinemorgenstern]

An Ocean of Darkness; an elriel one-shot

Summary: *Set post-ACOSF / post B&M extra* *ACOSF SPOILERS*

Azriel meditates on Nyx's birth and tries to settle with himself what his new future will look like. He encounters Elain in the grounds outside the House of Wind. Angsting and sexual tension proceed.

There was something almost wrong about this feeling. Swaddled in the finest cloth, nestled in his arms, the little body was surprisingly weighty; compact. Hot. Its head was barely as wide as his fist. Its scent, sweet as honeysuckle at twilight, billowed around him as it breathed, the motion barely perceptible through the swaddling. Only if he peered close: there. A flutter against the fabric, delicate as a bee’s wings.

Azriel knew it should not have been like this. But the sight of Nyx sleeping, so effortlessly perfect, unleashed something ravenous inside him. Dark as a moonless night; seeping. It spread with the consistency of newly-spilled of blood. Tangible, like seeing an old acquaintance outlined in the doorway.

His shadows began to rise around him.

Where did this feeling come from? Why was he slipping, just at the sight of an infant? It was as if his foot had slid over ice-smooth rock, where he had expected to feel a foothold. And now he fell. And fell, and fell, it seemed, in every direction.

Everything about this was hard to accept. This improbable creature, only two years ago, could never have existed. The fact that in some long-distant eon of time, he himself would have resembled this miniature thing. This thing so fragile, despite the tips of its wings poking out above the blankets. This thing that knew nothing but the everlasting worship of everyone in their Inner Circle. Mor had held onto him for hours; Azriel had only wrestled her into relinquishing her prize by reminding her that her presence was needed elsewhere.

In that long-distant eon of time, had he, too, shut his eyes so? Slept with such trust, in a stranger’s arms? His cheeks, were they as apple-round, as faintly blushed? His nose as tiny? Surely even he, as a babe, would have been set into the cradle of someone’s arms like this, however briefly. Would they have seen his skin as Nyx’s was? Dusky and glowing. Whole, silk-thin. Unruined.

Azriel brought a fingertip up to his forehead, tracing a reverent line across his skin. The intensity of that softness astonished him. It was like a sun-warmed rose petal, rubbed between your fingers. He had forgotten that this was what children were like: their bodies so foreign, so killingly soft. No wonder this had been beaten out of him.

A scrap of a memory danced before him. A whirling hem of a dress; a hand, thrown backwards. Elegant, and pale. Faint lines of dirt circling the fingernails.

His gaze lifted, as if to follow it.

Instead, his eyes collided with Rhys’, who, it appeared, had been staring at him.

There was no time to tuck away his thoughts. They were breaking the surface even as Azriel straightened, and he knew how gasping-loud they would be. All this time, and I thought it would just be us, together. And now, I am the one alone. The next followed, swimming on its tail, but of course, it would always be this way. This is the way it was always supposed to be. It was always going to be. In the end, there would only ever be him. Azriel would always be there, really, chained on the floor of that dungeon. Head cast back in the stale darkness, seeing only the faint light of his breath on the chilly air.

His brother’s expression was twisted into a wellspring of deep sorrow. For him.

Rhys stepped forwards. “I’m sorry.”

It was like some snag in time: already, the resemblance between father and son was so strong. This was just a vision of what the boy in his arms would be in so many years.

Get out of my head. It surprised him, the anger. Like someone had rushed him by mistake and he stumbled, casting around for who had done it.

“I’ll take him.” Rhys said, coming closer, arms extended.

Azriel glanced down at Nyx, suddenly unable to remember why he had petitioned Mor to hold him in the first place. What did he want with this child, so loved? What did he want with the memories and the feelings he invoked so slickly, so powerfully?

As his arms were relieved of the burden, he considered that he must be the only person in all of Prythian who was not interested in handling the babe. Once the news of Nyx’s existence became widespread — and it was already leaking, fast, his sources informed him — the child would be hunted for the rest of his existence.

Then he was in the air, feeling the wind whip about his wings, whirling up and up. It just this side of dusk, the sky quietly darkening, the horizon splayed plum-purples and blues. Rhys and Cassian, both, now had their mates and their homes, but this was Azriel’s only real home. The empty sky. The smell of the air, turning into night. The soothing cold. Breathing so deep as to let the chill infuse his skin, down to his bones, over and over, as if he could bottle this precious sensation, so that it would be always with him.

Azriel let himself circle, flying aimlessly, until the night stretched itself over the heavens in its full glory. He had seen so many courts, visited so many places — probably even more than Rhysand. But no other could compare to the fabulous majesty of the night court sky, this high, this late. Velvet-black, all-encompassing but for the light of the stars that glittered like drops of crystal inlaid into a seabed of darkness. And just like an ocean, it seemed to move, to breathe a life of its own. A darkness that you could reach into, and it would reach back.

When eventually he returned to the House of Wind, he lingered outside, unwilling to step across the threshold. For there was only his solitary bed, and sleep, mocking him. Taunting him.

From the smell of vacancy about the place, he could tell that Cassian and Nesta were not inside. For once.

Some thrill that felt oddly like freedom curled around him. Or was it rebellion? But how long had he been playing this game with her now? Waiting. Loitering in the grounds. Just on the off-chance. It was never an off-chance.

The rush that coursed through him when he spotted her — curled up on the ground, near a rose bush, her hair like a shadow-splashed coin — was so heady it dizzied him.

She glided to her feet. “Why are you here, Azriel?”

Something inside him seized, at the sound of his name, spoken on her lovely, melodious voice.

She walked forwards. “Why? Why are you here?” This time, the edge in her tone had given way to something else. A pleading.

If he reached out his hand, he thought, he could have had her body, so much more petite than her sisters’, flush against him. And then everything in the world would have melted away apart from the shape and the feel of her. The too-exquisite cloud of her scent that floated around him.

He remembered Rhys’ words. You are to stay away from her.

How terribly he had managed so far. Every day he was only sliding further downhill. And enjoying it so deliciously.

He was about to say, I thought we had an understanding. But of course, there was no understanding. No words about this had passed between them. It was something that was forming, half-knowing, between them both. And neither had the will to stop themselves. What if I lingered here? What if I went down this corridor? What if I allowed myself to look too long? What if I were to drive myself half-mad, searching for an excuse to touch you? “I…could not bare the thought of going to my bed.”

It was like someone else had said the words. He almost checked himself, as if to see that he were actually still master of his own body.

A small nod. And then, suddenly, with no warning, she stepped up, her hand covering the side of his face. “It has been this way for you too long, has it not?” Her thumb was stroking, backwards and forwards, across his cheekbone.

Immediately, he felt his shadows sing, his body begin to thrum with something keener than mere pleasure. Yes. Yes. He had caressed her neck just so, at Solstice. When they had nearly kissed.

The memory swirled in her eyes, too.

Stay away from her.

This feeling, this touch of hers. He could live in it. Eat from it, drink from it. Survive in it. This wildness. He would submit himself to anything for it.

“I have something for you.” A moment later, there was coldness were her hand had been, and she had drawn out something from the pocket of her skirts, holding it aloft.

“What is it?” The liquid inside was some purple-brown, shimmering fluid.

“It will help you sleep.”

“Ah.” He understood. “And I mustn’t take too much, I assume?”

She frowned. “It will not steal consciousness away. It will ease the unquiet inside you, that is all.”

How do you know? He stared into those doe-brown eyes, so large, considering all the different things he could say, and do. In his mind, he laid out the options, and weighed them up. The only one drawing him was the version of events where he dove down into the crook of her neck, and breathed in, open-mouthed, frantic, pulling in her scent; letting his teeth and tongue cover every single scrap of skin he could find. Instead, he said, “We need to stop this.”

“Stop what?”

“This. You know.”

A determined shake of her head. “I have made my choice.” He shook his head, trying to dispel the hazy image of Lucien; playing unsuccessfully with the idea of introducing more space between them.

“It is more than that.”

“Rhysand?” A noise of contempt left her.

He stared. Had she heard the entire conversation he’d had with him, in his office? It was possible. But then, there were other things. “How did you know?”

“Does it not occur to you…What if Rhysand were in your position? Can you imagine him obeying some order to stay away from my sister? No. Never.” She pushed closer, defiant. Heat radiated from her. The effort of not touching her was like sinking underwater, allowing himself to drown. Stopping himself from the urge to throw up his arms and gasp for breath. “I care nothing for his orders.”

This girl, who seemed so pure and innocent; who had been holed away for so long. And yet she seemed to have a more accurate grasp of the High Lord’s character than some who had known him years. “How do you know — all this?”

She made a light shrug. “My power rises in me, still. I see, hear, feel — odd things. But I keep seeing you. Your arm under your head, sheets back. You don’t even shut the curtains, now. You do not even try to close your eyes.”

She had been seeing…him? In his bed?

Before he had time to worry what else she had seen of him, she had grabbed one of his hands, thrusting the vial into his palm. By instinct, his fingers shut around the glass, clasping, too, the edge of her fingers. And then she was ducking her head, pressing a warm, firm kiss to the grotesque half-flayed skin that coated his knuckles. “Please.” Her beautiful eyes implored him. “For my sake.”

[mourntheantagonist]

Steve and Billy going camping with Max n the Party and all Billy wants to do is get in a tent with Steve

Hey I’m here thirty years later!

I had a lot of fun with this one so I hope this is kind of in the realm of what you wanted!!!

read on ao3

How a gaggle of fourteen year olds managed to convince Steve to take them all on a weekend camping trip was beyond him. Okay maybe it wasn’t. All it took was El’s signature pout and Steve was as good as gone. The real shocker however, is how they managed to convince Billy Hargrove of all people to tag along as well.

He’d heard from Max that their relationship had been slowly improving ever since that night at the Byers, and he’d have to agree with Max that Billy had truly become less hostile as the months passed. But this was the first time he’s ever seen Billy acting so brotherly.

Steve had driven the male party members out into the woods, while Billy, Max, and El had driven separately. The three were late, of course. But Steve’s not quite sure he can exactly pin that on Billy. El is definitely poor when it comes to punctuality. 

They couldn’t actually set up shop until the others arrived, seeing as they were supposed to select the chosen spot together. But as he watched the seconds tick by on his watch he grew more and more impatient he was close to saying fuck it and making it a boys only trip. That was until, seemingly on cue, the familiar roar of the Camaro echoed through the trees.

Watching Billy step out from the driver's seat was the first reminder that he hadn’t actually seen Billy in a while. Because so much had changed. His hair was less disheveled and chaotic as he remembered. But way curlier. It was slightly lighter too. The arrival of summer brought out the natural highlights in his hair. But it wasn’t just his appearance that had changed. Instead of exiting the car with the slam of his foot, the flick of a cigarette, and a predatory look… he was laughing. Laughing along with El and Max about something entirely unknown, and when asked, wasn’t revealed.

If Steve hadn’t let himself grow increasingly annoyed over the past fifteen minutes he stood there waiting, he might’ve cared to know. But the sun was beating down, he’d had to listen to Mike and Dustin argue about some Star Trek nonsense for the duration of the drive along with the time spent waiting, and he was starving. 

“You’re late.” Steve said dryly.

“That’s my fault,” Billy replied with some residual laughter from whatever was so funny. “I forgot to counter in Hopper’s 20 minute ‘protect my kid’ speech when I went to pick up El.”

“Well I’m starving. So let’s find a spot, and let’s find it quickly.” Steve probably should’ve tried at least a little to tone down his irritation.

“Someone’s in a mood.” Max says under her breath, causing El to break out into another fit of giggles.

The gang decided not to test their luck against a hungry Steve Harrington. Especially not one wielding a baseball bat coated in rusty nails. So they piled all their camping supplies onto their backs and hauled ass through the woods.

After only ten minutes of searching, they stumbled across a nice clearing just 50 feet off the lake with a picnic table and fire pit already set up for them. Perfect.

The guys started by setting up their tents, while El and Max worked on gathering twigs for the fire. Dustin has meticulously established the sleeping arrangements. Five small tents. Eleven with Max, Dustin with Will, Lucas with Mike, and Billy and Steve alone in their own separate tents. It’s the perfect set up so long as Lucas doesn’t bring up any conversation regarding Empire Strikes Back being anything lower than number one out of the entire trilogy. Because then there would be chaos.

But when is Mike not the problem?

After getting set up, they finally got to break out some delicious ham and swiss sandwiches (courtesy of Claudia Henderson), and Steve was finally entering into a better mood.

He couldn’t entirely credit the sandwich however, because something about this new and improved Billy warmed something inside of him. He was less abrasive and more relaxed. He wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone and instead was allowing himself to have a good time. Teasing his sister rather than tormenting her. Tossing knowing looks towards Lucas rather than threatening ones. Okay scratch that. They were definitely threatening. But more playful. The typical older brother spiel. The ‘you hurt her, I’ll rip your throat out through your ears’ kind of thing. And he was actually trying to make conversation with him. Only slightly poking fun at him every now and then. Not for the purposes of taunting, instead just his typical charm showing through.

“So what you been up to this summer? Haven’t seen you since graduation.”

“I’ve been working at Scoops Ahoy in the new mall. Not much else really.”

Billy took another bite of his sandwich and nodded. “I recently got hired on at the pool. Teaching lessons and life guarding. Saving up for when I go out to college in the fall.” He didn’t swallow the bite before speaking. New and improved Billy didn’t have table manners he guesses.

“Oh really? Where you headed to?”

“Full ride at USC.” Billy let out a hollow laugh. “Dad’s pissed I’m not enlisting.”

Steve picked up on the way Billy’s smile faltered at the mention of his Dad. He’d remembered Max mentioning once or twice about how her step-father was an asshole. For fucks sake Billy got a full ride to a prestigious university and his Dad is upset about that? He couldn’t even get into Tech. 

“I think it’s awesome.” Steve finally said. “I didn’t get accepted anywhere so I’m probably going to end up going to work for my Dad at his company.”

Apparently Steve let his disappointment show in the last statement. 

“Shit that sucks man. Dads are shit.”

Steve lets his mouth twitch upward into a smile. He looks back down at his almost finished sandwich and lets out a slight chuckle.

“Yeah. Dads are shit.”

- : -

After they all finished up their late lunches, the kids decided to move the party away from the table and into the lake. They walked along the lake shore for maybe a quarter of a mile before finding an abandoned rope swing attached to a tree directly next to deep waters. Steve and Billy both notice as Max gets this fire in her eye and neither adult bothers stopping her before pushing an unexpecting Lucas into the water. The whole group bursts into laughter as he makes the splash, well everyone except of course for Lucas.

But quickly the rest of them joined him in the water. All of them swinging in by the rope. Surprisingly the most timid out of all of them was Steve himself, who in a moment of desperation had to have Billy give him a push. 

Billy followed him in with a much larger splash than he had previously achieved. But it wasn’t a competition or anything.

Billy emerged from the water like a fucking mermaid. Graceful. His hair was completely saturated in water yet his curls still managed to pack a punch. He glistened under the rays of the sun and with the reflection of the water beneath him. Steve felt chills up and down his entire body as he watched him float away on his back. Watching as his chiseled chest rose and fell with every breath and the light from the sun reflected off of the water droplets on his sun kissed skin. He would just excuse it for the cool temperature of lake water.

But it wasn’t that cold to be completely honest. It’s June. One of the hottest months of the year and the weather is peaking at nearly 100 degrees. The water feels perfect in actuality. 

Steve swims around for a bit with the boys, plays a couple rounds of Marco Polo, and then excuses himself to lie out on the shore. He watches as they all have a blast. Lucas and Max are basically trying to drown Mike. Will and Dustin are competing to see who can hold their breath underwater the longest. Will has been cheating the entire time and Dustin has absolutely no clue. Billy and El are off in the corner. He’s picking her up and tossing her into the water. They both appear to be having a really good time. Billy is surprisingly really good with El. He’s actually pretty good with all of the kids all things considered. Something must’ve happened when he wasn’t looking because he seemed to be the only one to bat an eye at the mentioning that Billy Hargrove would be joining them on the trip. 

Steve inspected the time and decided to give the kids their 15 minute warning. Sun set was inching closer and they still had other preparations. He watched as Max swam over to where El and Billy were and after watching them exchange a couple sentences, Billy swam away and towards where Steve sat on the shore. 

Billy pushed himself out of the water and dried himself off with a towel. He wrung out his hair and secured the wet mess of curls up with a purple scrunchie. He threw his sweatshirt on, zipper remaining undone showing off his exposed chest, and he plopped down next to Steve. 

Oh boy. Steve hopes Billy didn’t notice the fact that he was staring at him that entire time.

“So what’s the plan for the rest of tonight Stevie?”

Steve feigned annoyance at the nickname (though it secretly made him embarrassingly giddy). “Well we’re going to roast some hot dogs and make some s’mores and hang around the fire before bed.”

“Sounds like a plan Harrington.”

An uncomfortable silence grows from there. The two of them sitting side by side looking out at the lake in front of them. Nothing but the sounds of splashing water and giggling teenagers. Billy is picking at the grass. Thinking. Steve might say he even looks nervous.

“I’m sorry about last November.” Billy doesn’t look up from where it’s pointing towards the overgrown blades of dead grass. 

It’s not the snarky and forced apology he was expecting. To be completely honest he never did expect one. Seven months had passed since it happened and not a single word from Billy. He just left him alone like his sister demanded.

“I’ve wanted to apologize before. But I wasn’t in a great place and didn’t want to screw it up. I probably already did by taking so long.” He took a deep breath and finally looked up. Eyes focused on the lake and avoiding Steve’s gaze. “I needed to make sure I was apologizing for the right reasons. Not just to get my sister off my back or to somehow make myself feel better about what I did to your face. I needed to apologize so that you knew that I was sorry. And I needed to be okay with you not forgiving me for it. So that’s why I’m saying it now.”

 Billy finally looks over at Steve who has been staring at Billy with wide eyes. It’s weird, because when Steve thinks about it, he kind of forgave him a long time ago. Because yeah, what Billy did was shitty, but not completely unfounded. He’s been underneath someone like that, barreling into him without care, more than once. It would have been easy to say Billy and his interaction was nothing like what he had with Jonathan Byers. Billy was actually a bad guy. 

But that’s the thing. He really wasn’t. Not after everything happened. 

He wasn’t outwardly kind. But he didn’t start shit. He minded his own business and moved through high school the same way everyone else did. And after hearing Max and Dustin and El vouch for him to come on this trip, well that sort of just sealed the deal. He forgave him before he even apologized.

But here he was. Apologizing. And for some reason Steve was rethinking ever forgiving him. It made no sense. But somehow actually knowing and believing Billy was actually sorry made forgiveness harder. Like in his mind it was easier because Billy didn’t get to know that he was forgiven. He was scared by telling Billy that he would be justifying what he did. 

So Steve doesn’t respond. And he can tell that Billy’s upset about it. It’s only been ten minutes but he decides to call the kids out of the water anyway.

- : -

The sun was setting and everyone had gathered around the campfire to roast marshmallows. Things had been ever so tense between Steve and Billy ever since their conversation at the lake. No one else seemed to notice though. 

It was easy to distract himself from Billy’s saddened state by watching as Dustin set his marshmallow on fire. Every time without fail. Max wasn’t roasting hers, just eating the marshmallows straight out of the bag because she doesn’t like graham crackers. Billy was intently making the most golden brown marshmallow for El because she didn’t know how to properly roast her own. It was really sweet. Billy seemed happy to do it but at the same time he had that lingering gloomy look on his face that would come in and out of existence.

Steve felt a little bad because he did that. Yeah, it’s the guy who nearly killed him, but he didn’t want to make him sad. 

He brightened up a little bit when the bickering began between Dustin and Mike. This was the reason they couldn’t share a tent. Max, El, and Billy moved into their own conversation out of earshot while Steve tried to calm down an overly enthusiastic Dustin.

When the argument ended Billy was looking to be in a much better mood than before. It was a little odd. They noticed the fire starting to dim so Max and El quickly excused themselves to go gather some more twigs from the forest. 

Billy was poking at the fire with a stick, trying to keep it alive (masking a developing smirk on his face).

“Hey Steve!!” Max’s voice echoes. “There’s a gaping hole in your tent!” 

El is stifling a laugh. Steve doesn’t seem to notice.

Steve rushes over to inspect the damage and yeah, it’s a gaping hole alright. His entire body could fit through it. How did he not notice it earlier?

“Goddamnit!” Steve curses the air.

“I’m sure Billy wouldn’t mind sharing!” El says, albeit, a little too excitedly.

Steve looks over to Billy who is still poking at the fire. “Yeah. I got room, I don’t mind.” 

And now Steve can’t just say no. He’d have to give a reason and well… he’s kind of strapped for an alternative so, Billy’s tent it is.

- : -

They stay by the campfire until the sun has completely set and the fire has gone out on its own. They broke out a couple of Beers and after several minutes of constant begging Steve caved and let the party have a small amount of beer each, poured into a red solo cup.

“This tastes like shit.” Dustin made a ridiculous face.

“Still better than New Coke.” Mike chimed in.

Billy helped Steve carry his things over to Billy’s tent. It was extremely awkward. Billy hadn’t really said a word to Steve the entire time and now they were supposed to sleep side by side in a pretty compact space? This should be fun.

An over dramatic yawn released by Max was their signal to head to sleep. The stars were clear above them and they had a pretty eventful day. Steve made sure everything was good while the rest of them piled into their own tents. Once he’s sure the food is secured and everyone is where they’re supposed to be, he sucks in a sharp breath and makes his way over to Billy in his tent.

Billy is already in his sleeping bag. He’s got a book in one hand and a flashlight in his other. Steve quickly discards his shoes and jeans and covers himself in his own sleeping bag. 

They’re both facing away from each other. It isn’t until Steve hears the click of the flashlight and the illumination in the tent disappears that he realizes neither of them have spoken. 

Steve has been thinking about the apology all night. He planned to just leave it be. Maybe thank him for apologizing but leave it at that. But seeing how much he’s changed and seeing how sincere he was being told him maybe Billy deserved to be forgiven. He also looked like he needed to be forgiven, despite what he said before at the lake. 

“I needed to apologize so that you knew that I was sorry. And I needed to be okay with you not forgiving me for it. So that’s why I’m saying it now.”

“I forgive you Billy.”

“Hmm?”

“I said I forgive you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it back at the lake.” Steve took in a deep breath and continued. “I wasn’t sure if it would be the right thing. But you’re clearly not the same person you were that night. I just didn’t really see it at first. I’m going to have to get used to this new and improved version of Billy Hargrove.”

Billy smiled to himself. 

“Thanks.”

Steve smiled too. 

The tent grew silent again after that. But it was slightly less tense than it was before.

“Can I say something stupid?” Billy asks.

Steve turns over to face Billy. He laughs. “Yeah. It’d be nice hearing it come from someone else for a change.”

Billy doesn’t turn to face Steve, but he can tell that he’s nervous because it’s quiet enough to hear his breathing quicken.

“I like you. Like… in that way. Sorry if that’s weird.”

Steve is quick to respond.

“Hey, it’s not weird. Don’t apologize for that.” He’s thinking a lot about Will. He and Dustin had talked about it before. How they’d be sure to make sure that Will knew it was okay whenever he chose to tell them. He doesn’t see why that should be any different for anyone else. Including Billy Hargrove.

But he guesses this is kind of different. It’s not just a confession of being into guys. It’s a confession of being into a specific guy. The specific guy in question being Steve.

It would also be pretty hypocritical of Steve to be weirded out. Not two hours ago he was fully objectifying Billy’s shirtless body. He might not like Billy. But dammit he was definitely attracted to him.

“If you’re uncomfortable I can hike back to the Camaro and sleep there. It’s not a problem.”

Billy had already begun unzipping the sleeping bag. Steve instinctively put a hand on Billy’s shoulder. 

“Hey. Billy it’s seriously alright. Look at me.”

Billy hesitated before rolling over. Their eyes met and due to the compact nature of their current sleeping arrangement, their faces lie mere inches away from each other. Steve had planned something to say, but he instantly forgot when he looked into Billy’s eyes. They weren’t the eyes belonging to an egregious asshole. They were the eyes belonging to a scared kid that maybe, given the time, Steve could grow to like. 

He could try blaming it on the beer. But Billy and himself both knew he didn’t even finish the one. But still, Steve inched closer and kissed him. It was soft and gentle. Steve moved a hand up to caress Billy’s cheek. Billy gently grabbed Steve’s wrist and deepened the kiss. 

Steve could feel Billy’s smile on his lips. 

He slithered his other hand underneath Billy and pulled him in closer. Their bodies were completely pressed against each other at every point, save for the thickness of not one but two sleeping bags separating skin from skin. 

Still they could feel each other’s heartbeats increase as their pace did the same. The kiss turned from gentle to one filled with need. 

Billy began working at the zipper of his sleeping bag with his other hand and was able to break free. He rolled Steve over onto his back and situated one leg on either side of Steve’s hips. Their lips didn’t come unattached. Steve moved both hands to the back of Billy’s head and he took fists full of hair and tugged gently, causing Billy to quietly moan into his mouth.

It was complete euphoria.

Billy was in just his boxers. Meanwhile Steve was still beneath the thick material of his sleeping bag. Billy unzipped it quickly for Steve and immediately tossed it off of him. Billy snaked a hand underneath Steve’s shirt. Moving up and down the full length of his chest. Appreciating his minimal chest hair. On the trip back down Billy’s hand palmed Steve’s crotch where he was quickly becoming hard from all of the friction. Steve let out a gasp as he made contact. 

“We can’t. The kids’ll hear us.”

“Then you’ll just have to be quiet pretty-boy.”

Billy waited for Steve to give indication that it was okay to continue. Steve laughed and pulled him back down to meet his lips. Billy hiked up his shirt and they shortly separated to pull it over his head. Billy moved back in to Steve’s neck and sucked harshly on several spots before peppering kisses all along the length of his torso until he reached his navel. Billy stuck his thumbs underneath the waistband of Steve’s briefs and slowly rolled them down.

Billy moves so that he’s in between Steve’s legs and lowers his head into his groin. Steve feels as the tension builds in the pit of his stomach from the delicate touch of Billy’s tongue. Even under the chill from the night air he’s warm all over.

“Feels so good Billy, Fuck!” He quickly puts a hand over his mouth when he realizes he said that a little too loudly.

Steve is just lying there, experiencing the utter bliss that is Billy Hargroves mouth wrapped around his cock making him feel every sensation all at once. 

“I’m close.” He whispers. God he really hopes the kids are asleep.

“Come for me pretty-boy.”

And boy does he. Just the way he said it was enough for Steve. He was a goner at the mere drop of the words ‘pretty boy’.

Billy wiped away at his mouth and crawled back up to lay down next to him. Steve immediately pulls him into another kiss. He’s not quite ready to come down from the high he was currently in. Billy’s mouth on his was a fucking drug. 

It’s weird to thank people after sex right?

Steve settles for something else when they finally part.

“It’s my turn.”

- : -

The two of them wake up in a single sleeping bag. Steve has his arms wrapped around Billy’s wasted and his head tucked into the crook of his neck. Steve is sweating because Billy’s is a goddamn space heater.

He can hear the rustling of the tents outside and quickly wakes up Billy so they can get out of their current suggestive position.

Billy in his sleepy state gives Steve a quick kiss on the lips. He’s quickly woken up by Dustin screaming at everyone to wake up from outside the tent. 

“We’ll talk about this later?” Steve says with a laugh.

Billy nods and gives him another quick kiss before getting up and tossing on a new pair of clothes. 

Once dressed they both exit the tent to see everyone making their way to the picnic table. 

They pull out several boxes of cereal and some milk from the cooler and begin eating their breakfast. Billy is sitting across from Steve, gently kicking at his feet. 

“Hey Steve what happened to your neck?” Dustin asks.

Steve’s eyes go wide and he quickly comes up with a cover.

“Oh uh, there were a lot of mosquitoes last night. Wouldn’t leave me alone.”

They all seem to accept the response and go back to their breakfasts.

Billy smirks at him from across the table and Steve stomps on his foot.

- : -

Max, Billy and El say their goodbyes and head off in the Camaro. 

Once the Engine is running and they’ve started driving away they all burst into laughter.

“I can’t believe you actually took a knife to Steve’s tent.”

“I can’t believe you actually fucked Steve!”

[reversecreek]

✵ zloane , bravier , nyla and sean

ZIGGY & SLOANE

their first impression of your muse:

sexy. tugged on her hair literally the first time he saw her hadn’t even had a conversation bt was just like target? located. going? ✈️ annoy her. probably initially just thought she was only at the skate park bc sean was n was like 🙄 then she cld actually skate n he was like 😏 liked that she gave him shit. found it funny pushing her buttons. liked her eyes. probably was like wtf is in the fuckin water in this town yo why all my friends got hot sisters that shit aint right tryna make me a dog....... not that he was even. phased by betraying those boundaries bt. still. i won’t lie his main first impression was probably jst damn bit hot when she glares at me like that. KJHFSGKSJHGKGHSFKGH

current impression:  

knows her a little more than he likes to know people. favourite person to argue w. can possibly skate better than him bt if she said so he’d be like “ur off ur fuckin tits man” n then practice secretly on his own for hours that night n get 9457295 scrapes. doesn’t like talking abt her dad like him so one time he put a firework in his mailbox n never admitted it was him. has reactions to youtube videos tht make him snort. quite funny in general rly. drinks a lot not that he can judge it’s just sometimes he notices n once he even snatched her cup n drank the rest so she couldn’t. played it off as their typical fuckery bt he isn’t sure what that feeling was. hasn’t been concerned often enough to know it by name. finds her hot at inappropriate moments like when a movie chara’s dying n he’s meant to be sad. finds her hot when she pisses him off too. thinks mayb she likes the excuse to hold onto him when she rides on his vespa but he kind of likes it too so he’s not about to call it out bc “he isn’t about that deep shit”. 

are they attracted to your muse?:  

KFJHGKJGHFGKFHSGKSHGKSFGH. imagine i was jst like no <3... yes. he likes to act like he’s less so than he is bt it’s obvious.

something they find frightening about your muse:

i wouldn’t say it frightens him bt sometimes he catches her looking at him a certain way n it unsettles him but he doesn’t know why. usually just pretends he didn’t catch it.

something they find adorable about your muse:  

he likes her short hair he’s always ruffling it n tugging on it. whenever she hs bumps n scrapes n bruises from falling off her board n getting back on over n over again jst never giving up or giving a fk. when she acts like she isn’t jealous.

would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?:  

umm. no. he’s an asshole. KGJSHFKGHSKFHGSKFGHKGH. sighs.

would my muse go on a date with yours?  platonic/romantic:  

no..... sees that as dangerous territory wouldn’t wna blur the lines. looks away.

one word my muse would use to describe yours:  

baddie. FKGJHSKGHFGSFHGSKGHSFKHG. demonic (when they’ve had a fight). 

would my muse slap yours if they could?:

no. he loves to argue w her but it never feels that Real u know... more like flirting. even when they’re rly pissed off. wld never enter that territory he hates shit like tht w a passion. cue round of applause from the audience for this absolutely low bar.

would my muse hug/kiss yours?:

i feel like they’re not rly huggy people...... ziggy probably puts his arm around her a lot tho he loves doing that. hs kissed her more times than he can count too n doesn’t plan on stopping

BRADLEY & XAVIER

their first impression of your muse:

funny. mean in a more digestible way than she was used to. he had barbs n she liked the way people winced when they tried to swallow his company. when she got paired w him for a class project she met his eyes across the room n he didn’t quickly look away like most ppl. something abt that intrigued her. a sharp fingernail inside her head kept having to itch at something n she realised it was the urge for him to call her a bad name. this weird craving to hear an angry word inside his mouth just for her. she used to think that’s what someone wanting her was like. still does sometimes. this both pissed her off n caught her attention which is a bit of an accomplishment fr someone who gets bored by everyone n everything.

current impression:  

his heart’s more good than she expected. it felt a bit like having a cat drop a dead mouse at ur doorstep that u don’t know what to do with when she realised that. she felt uncomfortably like her mother when she couldn’t get out of his bed bc she was too depressed n that rly made her feel like. ill honestly. he did all the right things but suddenly she just felt sick abt the whole situation which is Not the normal reaction to ur bf caring about u but bradley doesn’t understand ppl caring abt her. felt more like pity. she thinks he’s better off. she misses him sometimes bt then she reminds herself she doesn’t miss people. does a good job of believing it. one of the best ppl she’s dated not that she’d say it.

are they attracted to your muse?:  

yes..... ws probably. unhinged n rabid when they were dating. very good at hiding it now however. cold at the drop of a hat.

something they find frightening about your muse:

that he witnessed her being vulnerable............ literally grosses her out so much like she’d rather die than. anyone see her like that. when they were dating she’d get paranoid her dad wld somehow find out too n smthn wld happen to him for it. it ws definitely weird for her like the fact she even cared enough to consider tht.

something they find adorable about your muse:  

adorable is rly not a word that fits into bradley’s vocabulary GHSFGHSFKGHSFKG bt hm. maybe if he ever tried to tell her what to do one time even casually. she’d b like awww..... u think i do what anyone tells me? that’s so fucking sweet. 

would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?:  

in most cases no :/..... however if it was smthn to do w the guys that work for her dad then ya she’d put herself in danger to avoid him being in it.

would my muse go on a date with yours?  platonic/romantic:  

i mean she has in the past bt bradley’s idea of dates is like. starting a bar fight together. getting thrown out of a club n both falling over into trash cans in a dingy back alley. stealing a car. breaking into a random house n fking in a stranger’s bed. fking in the bk of a movie theatre w a horror movie screening. definitely not dinner or anything like tht. she wldn’t now........ they’re not exactly in a place fr that..... 

one word my muse would use to describe yours:  

ex. whatever. i know it’s not one word but “some guy”. FGHSKGHFGKSHG >_>

would my muse slap yours if they could?:

no. she’s a violent person bt not xavier.

would my muse hug/kiss yours?:

NO hugging...................... she fronts like she wldn’t kiss him bt like. if a discussion got heated n they were in each other’s faces who’s to say. 

NYLA & SEAN

their first impression of your muse:

strange little fella which is a very high compliment. kind of reminded them of an animated turtle come to life in the human realm altho they honestly don’t have an explanation for that it’s just the way their brain works. they love the turtles in finding nemo tho so maybe there’s some sort of correlation. very nice face. they kind of wanted to hold his head like a bowling ball just so they could examine it properly. i feel like when they first met him they probably reached out n smoothed a sticky label onto his forehead that said ‘catfish in chernobyl’ n they had one on their forehead that was blank n then they just wafted a pen mid air n were like ‘wanna play guesses?’ even tho that isn’t the name of the game. as if that was just. a completely normal introduction to someone. FGKHSKHGSFKGHSFKG. feel like sean wld have rolled w that tho so nyla was like :P i like.... if they played another round they’d give sean another sticky label that said ‘the loneliest whale in the world’ n then it’d start a whole conversation abt how nyla thinks they can speak whaleish. (whale spin on elvish). 

current impression:  

sean makes them think of that artificial blue raspberry flavour some popsicles have n how it’s always rly fun when they stain ur tongue. sweet n exuberant n leaves a bright impression. he lets them ride on his skateboard sometimes rolling along being lead by them holding his hand n nyla likes to shut their eyes like they’re a bird sailing above the clouds. one of their favourite things to do especially when the sun’s out. bc of this nyla thinks sean was a bird in his past life but not a greedy one like a seagull or a plain one like a pigeon. maybe a bluebird bc of his eyes. he makes them laugh a lot. they entrusted him to babysit their children (as pictured) in his hair for a whole day and night once n they had lots of fun with him so nyla thinks he’s very trustworthy and kind. he also is rly easy to talk to like they cld randomly be like “i’ve been thinking lately that maybe homer simpson could’ve been a good figure skater” n sean wldn’t look at them like they’ve lost their marbles he’d just go w it. they like his company a lot.

are they attracted to your muse?:  

😏

something they find frightening about your muse:

ummm nothing in particular altho one time when they were rly tripping out bc his eyes are blue n it got them thinking abt the ocean n they always think they can talk to ghosts underwater so they were kind of like. thinking abt ghosts whenever they looked him in the eyes. maybe covered their own w their hands n if sean asked why they told him abt it. suddenly he shut his eyes to make them feel better n it turned into a whole thing where nyla had to lead him around the party like a guide dog.

something they find adorable about your muse:  

his nose. watching him talk to his siblings. his hands.

would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?:  

😌 yea

would my muse go on a date with yours?  platonic/romantic:  

yes............ feel like they’d have fun if they went anywhere tbh........ cn imagine them at a fair eating from the same cotton candy n chattering as they point out things. nyla trying to do that hammer game where u make the meter reach the top n lifting the hammer in the air n falling backwards bc it was heavier than they anticipated.... sean yelling like man down man down..... mayb they take a tab n suddenly the fair is so scary they’re like 😳 we’re in danger...

one word my muse would use to describe yours:  

silly (affectionate). sailor (also term of endearment). gnome (same thing again). cool.

would my muse slap yours if they could?:

no ur sick....

would my muse hug/kiss yours?:

ya to both. jst suddenly had a vision too of nyla being cold one time n clinging to sean from the front like a bushbaby in a hug as he carries her around. suddenly this mode of transportation hs happened more thn once (godmod) (contact my lawyers if u dare bebe) (bitch) (i take it back) (it wasn’t right alli it jst wasn’t right) (pelase forigev m eim shakign)

[chappedandfadedvds]

Jan 14th, Thursday 21:39

If only someone had stood witness to the destructive nature, that arose from a simple conversation on the sofa half an hour ago, they could have stopped this.

The show on the tv they had watched was forgotten by now, as the two stood strictly three steps apart in the middle of the livingroom. The heavy tension high when they faced each other through hard eyes. Neither of the two boys had backed out yet. Whatever may be said next tonight would only bring the truth that they had ignored for far too long.

And perhaps if they looked back on it, this moment had been nessecary, even though it only brought pain, when Jens overstepped the unspoken and careful line they had draw at one point between their first encounter and this night.

And maybe he would have stopped himself from voicing this sentence out loud, constructed of wrong words and false intent. If only he had cared enough to notice the violent storm brewing on the horizon.

„You do not understand this. You can’t. I’m not doing this to you.“

Too late. The tempest arrived. And they prepared to sink.

„Shut. The fuck. Up.“

Jens did, stunned into silence by the shock at the harsh eyes staring him down. Unfamiliar on a face he could draw blind. The younger boy loomed over him, radiating danger.Unnatural for the younger boy, who always seemed to keep a cool head and mellow attitude.

Lucas took a deep breath. The orange light of the lamp by the piano reflected in his eyes. 

„Shut up, you selfish asshole. God! I’m so sick and tired of this. You never ever fucking listen to me. Never trust me to know what I want.“

„That’s not true.“ Jens tried, his voice deflated at the lie he kept telling to both of them.

„No? Because I am pretty sure that that’s exactly the case.

You never listen. You never let me explain myself. You never talk to me. And I am not speaking about you yelling at me on random nights that you decide to burst.

I know what you are doing and it is self-destructive.“

It felt like a knife had been raised to his throat. Jens lost the ability to think.

„Just this once you are going to stay quiet and let me tell you what I think.“

Jens nodded wary. There was fear there in his heart. He didn’t wanted to listen to Lucas. He didn’t wanted to hear him out. But he had to, That’s what Jens burned on a loop into his mind to keep the desire to scream back locked inside.

„I tell you over and over and over again, that I don’t mind, that I want to be here, that I want to be with you. That you can tell me anything. Every single time.

And you don’t believe me, don’t trust my words, and it fucking hurts to stand on the sidelines. What do you want me to do, Jens? What?

I really want to scream at you rigth now, if it wouldn’t be for Lotte asleep upstairs.“

The hurt was marked deep in the younger boys expression, as he straightened his back. Jens felt small compared to the force that was brought against him. 

The voice only raised loud enough to strike Jens down. Lucas was attentive enough to not wake the only other member in the house as he took a step closer, his hand combing the hair out of his face.

„Jens! This is not going to work. I know what you are doing and it is not going to work!

Botteling up emotions and thoughts in silence hasn’t worked for my mother a year ago and it will not work for you now. Sorry that I have to break it to you. But fuck you! Fuck you for deciding on my behalf. For keeping me out of it. Do you think I don’t know how much this sucks?

Should we have met in the highst of summer, smoking, sipping beer at a lake. Kissing underwater and driving our bike through the heat of the sun. Yes we should have. We should have our parents at home, happy, a bit stressed out by work, but still completely there for us. We should laugh and party and worry about passing history class this year. Waste all our thoughts on what to do for our brithdays and which university to attend. Tough luck. We don’t.

We have this stupid pandemic and asshole governments and on top of it all our family’s problems.

My father is a fucking homophobic piece of shit, yours wasn’t even really around to begin with. 

My mother is so ill, her brain needs medication to function properly. She just left me to figure it all out by myself a couple years ago. I washed my clothes and learned to cook at least some damn pasta. My father burning himself out at work, everything to not have to be home until he took off. She was fucking suicidal at times, breaking down without apparent reason. It’s fucking scary to see traces of it in your behaviour. And I can’t believe that I am the fucking lucky one here between us.

Because, I had Kes to help me through it, when I called him up one day. He listened and never left afterwards. And my mom is getting better. She’ll be fine. I get to have her and my life back soon.

And yes you have it worse. I know. I am so, so, so sorry. Your mom is dying, leaving you with your sister. If us breaking up would fix this, I’d be out already two month ago. But it wouldn’t. 

I fucking love you, Jens, and you are so goddamn stubborn. I wish I could hate you sometimes. I really do.

I was the one who moved to a different city midterm, I didn’t know a single person here, my mom is home maybe two days a week, and would you have told me the moment we met, what was happening in your family, it wouldn’t have changed a thing for me, okay?

Can you at least trust me on that?

You are not to blame for my mom’s absence. But I am not to blame for yours either.

Tell me Jens. When have you ever asked me how I am feeling? I can’t think of a time. But I would have answered you right away. Instead, I kept quiet to not burden you more than you already are. However when I ask you, all I get is silence.

I don’t deserve this.

This is not okay. We should be talking to each other.

So, I am going to go home, I would have anyway tomorrow with my mom being there the night. And I’ll call Robbe on my way, tell him to come here and bear you company. I know I won’t be able stay away otherwise. And you better open the fucking door for him, because if you don’t, I swear to god, I’m going to break into this stupid house of yours and do it myself.

I care too much for you, I think.“

Lucas shoulder’s sank in a tremble. And Jens noticed he had hold his breath. His lungs burning for air.

„You are not going through this alone. Everybody wants to help you. You just don’t let them.

Think about what you want, what makes you happy. If you decide that a relationship is too much for you at the moment, I promise I’ll understand. But make up your mind. I don’t want to fight you, Jens.

I love you. And.

I don’t know what else to tell you.

I’m sorry. We just got unlucky. Figure your shit out. I’m tired of this. And call me when you can tell me what you want.“

The room dropped into nothingness as the voice ebbed away.

Lucas deserved to give his anger away. Lucas always had kept quiet at his side.

So Jens forced himself to silently watch his boyfriend walk out of the room to grab his jacket and put on his shoes. Jens had followed with his eyes until the younger boy had stepped around the corner, and had found his feet to carry him into the doorway a moment later.

Lucas had waited for him to come and see him leave. How cruel, Jens thought.

They didn’t said another word. Everything that needed to be out there was stated and ready to be dissected over sleepless nights.

The younger boy exhaled, sorrow in his gaze, that was answered by Jens with his own. 

And then the bond snapped and a cold wind hit him, as his eyes kept staring at the back that vanished into the night. Perhaps he should run after him. That’s what people in movies did, right? 

Proclaim their love and shower the other in apologies and heartfelt compliments. A kiss. Happy End.

Jens couldn’t fathom the depth of the despair in his tears as the waters swallowed him whole under crahing waves. At worst this was the end. He prayed it had been needed to make them right one day. For now all he could give Lucas was to follow his wish and contemplate his words.

At least for tonight.

He closed the door and decided to stay.

__ __ __ tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

notes:

How we doin, guys, girls and pals after this?

Cos Love by Tom Rosenthal is a song I listened to a lot thinking about this clip.

But what I actually wanted to say was, that I hope that you understand where Lucas is coming from here. My whole story is seen from Jens’s eyes and I’m not going to rewrite certain parts from other perspectives. I’m not going to say that he is completely right and that he hasn’t said some awful things in this one, but try to see Lucas here. If it would have been his clip, I would have inculed this paragraph:

__ „No? Because I am pretty sure that that’s exactly the case.

You never listen. You never let me explain myself. You never talk to me. And I am not speaking about you yelling at me on random nights that you decide to burst.

I know what you are doing and it is self-destructive.”

He gave and gave and gave, until all that he was met with was an empty heart. So he would take it back, reclaim his soul and mind before it would go to waste in uncaring hands.

„Just this once you are going to stay quiet and let me tell you what I think.“ __

I hope it did it justice. It needed to happen, I’m sorry.

[ourplaceinthecosmosphff]

Chapter 1. The Case Against Fairytales

'his eyes across a room tangled up in her imagination they had spent a lifetime together by the time he said hello' atticus

My brother died the same way he came into the world: silent, eyes closed, changing my life as I knew it. 

We spent our whole lives trying to convince anyone we could that we were as regular as they were, but here's the first fundamentally different thing when you are royal: the meaning of the word ‘everyone’. 

In our case, we usually mean anyone in the country, most of the international media, and at least a sizeable majority of the world's population. It's not that everyone knew us... it's just that enough people did. Enough for it to be easier to call them 'everyone'. 

When my brother Louis was born, mom had been rushed to the hospital in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. The press was notified, they promptly set up camp at the hospital entrance, and the people started prayer campaigns to the safe arrival of their new prince and heir. Everyone rejoiced at his arrival. I remember, I was there. 

At three years-old, it felt like everyone was every single person in the planet. It was mostly just the people in our country; to everyone else, his birth was a quick, short line of announcement, maybe some notice to the fact that the newborn baby boy was taking his older sister's place as heir, and not much else. 

When he died, everyone was every single person in the planet. The second thing fundamentally different when you are a royal: from a very early age you must learn that tragedy sells more than joy. And in any constitutional monarchy country, a royal family is merely another commodity.

A few people talked about my early graduation from University. A lot more people talked about my boyfriend breaking up with me. There were a few articles about my little sister's victory at the ice-skating junior final. When she fell on her face in front of the cameras while attempting a risky move, she went viral. When my brother came into our lives, a few people took notice. 

When he left us, everyone did.

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

I, too, am a victim of culture appropriation. Since the dawn of time, from the moment humankind developed communication skills, there has been storytelling. And for the past few thousands of years most stories that parents tell their young as they tuck them into their blankets every night, have been about my culture. As far as that goes, it is not the most damaging kind of culture appropriation. But I have a duty today, and I will not shy away from it. I am sorry to say I must, and will, shatter the beautiful image of fairytales that kids have been fed for so many years now. 

I know what you are thinking – oh, boo-hoo, the poor little princess girl; is life too difficult in your beautiful palace with all the money a person could ever need? And yes, I know. I am not a victim. The same colonialism that placed my ancestors, and therefore, me, in the position of privilege and power I am in today has created many more actual victims around the world. But that is also why I must tell this story the way it was always meant to be told: truthfully. With all the weird, awkward, awful, bits and pieces that fairytales tend to skip. 

Fairytales would, for instance, skip straight to the grand, majestic welcome ceremony between the Queen of the United Kingdom and the King of Savoy in a sun floored courtyard with guards on tall, furry black hats strutting around, standing in a red-carpeted dais, with a handsome prince making eyes at me. But in my story, we will start with the train. 

That’s right, in modern fairytales you don’t take a lovely carriage ride to a neighboring kingdom. You take a train there – a commercial train, if you can, because modern times beg for demonstrating to the masses that the Monarch isn’t throwing money around. We were trying to highlight the easy routes of access to our neighbors to the northeast, and so we took the ferry across the Celtic Sea to Hugh Town Island and from there, Eurostar number 2 train that made a quick stop in Penzance, UK, and then went straight to London. 

The train ride isn’t comfortable – even if you have a first class private car. It’s bumpy and crowded and a terrible place to spend three straight hours. On that particular morning, I was in our car with my father, his household secretary Auguste, my private aide, Cadie, and a few other staff members. 

In fairytale world, when a princess does not look the part, there is usually the appearance of a fairy godmother who sings a nice song and magically transforms her into a Proper Princess™. There is no fairy godmothers when you are a real princess- real ones, sure, but they are not magical-, but you do learn from an early age what a Proper Princess™ should look like, act like, and sound like, and god forbid you don't. 

In the train that day, I heard all that was keeping me from being Proper™ from Auguste, who was in many ways the exact opposite of a fairy godmother. He had all the menacing authority of one, with none of the charm. He also didn’t have wings or a sparkly wand; he had greying short hair, and thin, small, reading glasses that he always pushed down to the tip of his nose to look above, which made me wonder what was the point of the glasses at all.

Before our arrival, I had to change my lipstick, which was too dark, my dress, which was too short at the daring height of above my knees, my shoes, which were open toed and therefore wrong, and finally, make sure to brush my hair once more.

My parents never subscribed to the idea that we were forbidden to do anything. They were raised on stern rules and heavily traditional costumes and wanted their kids to live more freely. So, growing up, they revolutionarily told us that we were free to be whoever we wanted to be – in private. In public, we had an obligation to be Proper™. After all, as I heard repeatedly growing up: royals don’t make mistakes, we make history; and history remembers.

So, yes. I, a grown, 25 years-old, law-school graduate, bar-approved acquisitions lawyer, changed out of my dress into a more proper one because my dad asked. Because as a princess, you’re never just yourself; you’re the country. And if your country comes from a Roman Catholic tradition, your hemlines must reflect that, no matter what century it is.

The country in question was just to the south of the United Kingdom, west of France, a large island named Savoie. The English call it Savoy, which is how it was pronounced anyway. It was originally populated by the Irish, but over the years it was conquered by the English, the Spanish, and the Portuguese until finally, in the 13th Century, it was conquered by France. It was bigger than Ireland, but smaller than England, and one of the biggest GDPs in the world, with a population of 49 million. Under the reign of Louis XV, however, France lost most of its possessions after its defeat in the Seven Years' War, and to secure Savoy, the king sent part of the court to live there and to reign in his stead as his emissaries. Louis XV's reign grew weak, including his ill-advised financial, political and military decisions, which discredited the monarchy and arguably led to the French Revolution 15 years after his death. France dealt with its dissatisfaction by revolting, Savoy however, secluded away at sea, decided to declare independence before the Revolution had even taken steam. The political leaders of the Island reached an agreement with the king's emissary, Prince Louis, the highest ranking monarch on the island; in exchange for support for the severance of all connection to France, he was then made King Louis I of Savoy. The Royal House of Savoy grew steady and strong by protecting its people and assuring them a freer, better life than the one they'd known under French reign.

A few years later, I sat on that train in front of the current King of Savoy. My father. 

“You look beautiful, Maggie.”

“Thank you.” 

“The other dress was beautiful as well. Just not for today.”

“Mm-hm.”

A moment of silence went by. I picked up my phone and checked my emails. There was one from Sophie with the subject ‘urgent!’ so I clicked in it feeling my heart race.

It read,

‘Marie, I’m sorry to bother you on your days off, but the depositions got moved up to Monday and we can’t find the notes on the manager deposition, you were the one who did them. Is there any chance you have a copy and if so can you send them to me? Enjoy England! XO Soph’

Sighing, I put down my phone and quickly found my laptop on my suitcase. I turned it on as I replied to Sophie’s email to tell her to expect my deposition notes shortly. 

“You know if we could I’d let you wear whatever you wanted.” Dad added as I logged into my computer.

“I do.”

I moved quickly through my folders realizing the most recent update on my notes hadn’t been uploaded to the cloud. Sighing, I logged on to the train WiFi and checked the storage service online. It didn’t connect.

“Honestly, darling, you look even prettier with this dress.”

I looked up, mentally wondering if the previous versions of the notes would be useful.

“This isn’t about the dress.”

I realized, then, that it wouldn’t matter anyway because I wouldn’t be able to send them to Sophie without internet. I looked out the window, realizing perhaps too late that we were in the tunnel, underwater. Of course there wasn’t internet.

“Well, what is it about?” Dad asked, putting his book marker back inside the page he was on and laying down the book to give me his full attention.

“Work, papa. I have a job.”

“Yes, and it’s your day off. Maybe you should try and turn off from work for the next few days?”

I smiled down to my computer, “maybe this is a conversation for another time.”

Dad adjusted his posture, looking a little taller, and looked around the room to Cadie and Auguste sitting in a booth nearby with our private hair and make-up artist, and dad’s footman, and personal aide.

“Excuse me, everyone, would you be so kind as to give us the room? Or, uh, the car? There is a little lounge outside, isn’t there?”

“Of course, sir.” Auguste said, jumping up immediately with the aide, and Cadie and Cass, the make-up artist, followed.

After they had left and closed the door behind them, I looked at my father. He lurched back in his seat and smiled at me. 

“Go on,” he said. “If you don’t scream I don’t think they’ll hear us.”

“Why would I scream?”

“I don’t know, Maggie. But I don’t know why you would be so passive aggressive, either. Can you tell me?”

“What do you want, dad?” 

In truth, I added the ‘dad’ at the end of the sentence to make it sound less aggressive, but as he stared at me, I felt uncomfortable not explaining myself.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”, I asked, tiredly. “I’m here, wearing a proper, long, not-slutty dress-“

“No one here used that word-“

“My toes will be perfectly hidden away when we arrive, I have hidden my ugly, evil legs under some stockings-“

“Really, Maggie, no one said your legs were-“

“My make-up is light and my hair is simple and non-threatening. I know not to smile too much or too little and to let the adults lead the conversation”, I said, the word ‘adults’ dangling bitterly from me lips. “And not to walk ahead of you, but always behind, taking your lead.”

“You make it sound so stiff and calculated.”

“And I have taken time off of work to be here.” I said. “All other Junior Associates are working overtime and through weekends to cash in as many billable hours as possible to be promoted to Full-time Associates, and instead I took off four days to travel with my dad.”

“Work, for work!”

“So, again, what do you want? How else am I not meeting your expectations?”

I spoke calmly, gently, and as low a volume as I could just to confront his joke not a minute before about how if I didn’t scream the others wouldn’t hear us. I made sure to be as poised and contained as I could. He heaved a sigh.

“I’m sorry you had to take time off work.” 

I waited, as he stared in his usual lovingly, patient way. I smiled, more as a peace offering than genuinely. 

“You know very well they won’t fire you.”

Still, I was quiet, smiling as sincerely as I could. 

“And I know that isn’t fair, but there’s nothing I can do about it. So tell me something I can do and I will.”

“Okay.” I said, nodding. “I want your honesty. Don’t treat me like a child you need to protect, don’t patronize me. All I want is an honest answer.”

He adjusted himself in his seat and cleared his throat. “Alright. Go on.”

“Why am I here, papa?”

He blinked, seemingly confused. I could tell he expected a harder question.

“Your- Because your mother sprained her ankle?” he answered, still unsure. “What- do you mean philosophically? Why are any of us here, really? I don’t understand.”

I tried not to smile. “I mean I have a life. I am not your heir. Louis is your heir, it is his job to help you when mom has emergencies.”

He sighed deeply, finally arriving at the same page where I was.

“Your brother is in school.” He said. “And you are our oldest child. So, I’m sorry if it disrupts your life, Maggie. But you are needed.”

“And after school?” I asked “His graduation is in 6 months. Are you telling me that after he graduates university and moves back home, when he is starting his career, maybe moving to the capital, when you and mom have an emergency, you will call him up instead of me?”

He gave the table a sad smile. “If that is your wish, yes.”

“So that’s all, then?” I confirmed, suspiciously. “He moves back after graduation and you will give me the space I need?”

He smiled. “Is that what you want, then?” it wasn’t a confirmation. It was a tone of accomplishment. Of finally realizing what was it that I wanted, as if this entire conversation that’s what he had been trying to find out.

“I went to school for years. I interned for a year. I studied hard for the bar exams in America and Savoy. Yes, dad, I want to use the degree I worked hard for.”

“Okay, then. We will give you space.” He said. “Space from us, to be who you want to be. To be normal.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling, slightly amused at his dramatics. “That is not what I meant.”

“But it is accurate.”

“Papa...” I sighed.

“I’m just saying, sweetheart, I understand.” He insisted. “It’s why you went to America for University, it’s why you are based on the capital now. As long as you’re too close to us, you can’t live a normal life.”

“I can never live a normal life. We are not normal.”

“But you wish to try.”

I chuckled. “How?! You said it yourself, they will never fire me. My firm, I mean. Wherever I am, I am never just me and my degree and my career. People look at me and see you, as if I am you. I am their King. I am the Royal Family of Savoy. They’ll never take me seriously or afford me the same opportunities as everyone, because I am not everyone.”

He nodded, slowly, then sighed. “Yikes. You’re right. That sounds tough.”

“And I’m the passive aggressive one?”

“Job security and the attention of your bosses. That sounds awful.”

“Papa...”

“You want the space to dedicate yourself to your career without us pulling you away for royal work. Is that it? Okay. You got it. As soon as your brother is back from University, I will make sure you’re only needed for official events, and only if you’re not working.” 

He sounded serious now. Sincere as when he delivered the End of Year address every Christmas, which was meaningful. Getting dad to afford me the same seriousness he afforded his subjects was as much seriousness as I could get from him. Still, there was no mistaking the sadness in his eyes. 

“Even before his affirmation ceremony?” I asked, trying to sniff around for a trick.

The affirmation ceremony was meant to make clear to the country that an heir to throne had the seal of approval of the Monarch, and it usually happened when the heir was 21 years of age, to signify the Monarch believed in the event of a tragedy, the heir was ready to rule.  In modern times, it meant an heir was ready to start working as a full-time royal. Though my brother was 22, the family had decided to wait until he had graduated university to do his ceremony. 

Dad took longer than I wished, but finally, he nodded. “Yes. I promise.”

If you’re paying attention, then you might have noticed the math doesn’t add up. How come my 22 years-old brother is the heir when I said I am 25, the oldest child? Well, as with most fairytales, as well as with most of life, the problem is the patriarchy. For the thing is, though I was older than Louis by three years, because I was born a girl, he became the heir when he was born. So, at three, I went from future-Queen to lower ranking older sister. 

It wasn’t unusual, my father himself had two older sisters who were lower than him and his brothers in the line of succession. As a result we had older cousins who we outranked. I cared about all this at 25 the same as when I was 3: not at all. 

Absolute primogeniture law was passed in Savoy when I was 5, propelled by my birth and the new times. It was, however, not retroactive. This meant the law was changed for future births, not past ones, so all girls born after the law came into effect would be heirs in their own right, no matter how many brothers they got after, and all girls born before would go into history as having missed it by ‘just a bit’.

Louis and I, though, didn’t sit around having long discussions about who would be a better ruler. There has never been an instance in which we were arguing and I yelled something like, “first you stole my throne and now you stole my cookies! I hate you!”. For us this was just a little footnote in the family tree. A little fun fact to tell our future kids one day. And although I couldn’t remember what it felt like, I always knew it was much better not having to be the Crown Princess of Savoy.

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

When we finally reached Penzance, the small town in the tip of the isle of England where sat the second Eurostar station, I was able to finally connect to the internet. My father left our train car to walk about with his security because he wanted to witness the new English policy of installing a check-point at the entry due to the immigrant crisis – a huge part of why we were there. While he did that, I sent Sophie my notes on the deposition, and answered some messages.

There was one from Louis, my aforementioned brother:

‘are you close?’

And one from our baby sister, Lourdes:

‘what do you think??!!!!!!!!’, with an attachment of two videos.

And, lastly, one from my mother, Her Majesty Queen Amelie-Elyse, back home with a sprained ankle.

‘Hope all is well! Let me know when you’re with your brother. Don’t forget to let your hair down before leaving the train!’

She didn’t mean it in a philosophical, have fun kind of way. She literally meant let my hair down, apparently it softened my features. 

I replied to her with a selfie, with my hair properly brushed and down, in preparation for the arrival in London, which was close now. Let Louis know we were almost there. And sent a quick, uncommitted ‘woah!’ to my sister, without opening her attachments. They were always the same: videos of her practicing. There was only so much ice skating I could watch in a lifetime.

My mom answered my text with, “why did you change your dress?!”

I sighed, getting ready to justify this decision as well, already anticipating she would argue that the fascinator wouldn’t go with this one dress, so I told her I already had another fascinator standing by. 

Growing up with fairytales they don’t tell you about the little annoying details. Characters who are annoying usually are the villains, the ones the Princess escapes from, usually saved by the prince. They don’t tell you sometimes, actually a lot of the times, the people you love can be equally as annoying. 

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

When we arrived at the station in London, I was already wearing my disc fascinator in a light shade of blue matching both my lace dress, this time reaching all the way to my ankles, and eyes. We were quickly greeted by the Savoyen Ambassador to England in front of the press, and escorted into government cars towards Whitehall. 

The large parade ground was a traditional courtyard in central London that usually housed ceremonies related to the military and the royal family. When we arrived, the day finally was washed in a feeling of ceremony. 

The place was lined neatly with military guards, security barricades and the Scotland Yard Police kept watchers and paparazzi at bay, the press lined up inside to have the best view of all involved. As we arrived, the traditional 41 gun salute was already sounding on. A military band was playing. People waved and yelled hello as we drove inside. I suddenly knew what to do, as if my body had the gene for it. This was one thing that was definitely genetic.

I stepped out of the car delicately, smoothly, knees together like a proper lady, polite smile on my lips in thanks to the guard who saluted as I left. My father greeted a handler who escorted us to the front of all the lined guards, where three structures had been set up: one large one in the middle, with a red-carpeted stage and a large roof, the British Royal Coat of Arms in the center with the British flag to its right and the Savoy flag to its left. Decorative flowers and elegant plants here and there. Two smaller, simpler structures to both of its sides. Inside all of them, men and women in formal suits and ties and knee-length, appropriate dresses and hats. 

We walked the grovel path to the larger structure as the band played and the press, lined up in front of this platform, took their photographs. My father climbed the steps first, quickly being received by the small, elder, lady in a lavender overcoat and matching hat, impressive set of pearls dangling from her neck. She smiled as he lowered himself down to kiss both her cheeks warmly. 

The queen then looked at me and I approached, just as our handler told Her Majesty:

“And may I present, Her Royal Highness, Princess Marie-Margueritte of Savoy.”

I lowered myself in a curtsy, and as she extended her hands to hold mine, I also kissed her cheeks, trying to avoid knocking her hat with mine. 

“Welcome.” She smiled. “I hope the ride was forgiving.”

“Very comfortable.” My father told her. “Always surprising how fast it is.”

“Yes. You’ll remember, I’m sure, the Prince of Wales.” She said, walking us to the center of the platform where another two men awaited.

My father and the Prince of Wales greeted each other warmly, they were more used to running in the same circles – royal weddings here and there, international summits and meetings, or whatever it is they do. 

“We’re so glad to have you.” He told my father. 

“I don’t know if you’ve met my daughter, Princess Marie-Margueritte.”

Smiling, I curtsied to the Prince of Wales as he held my hand, before kissing my cheeks. 

“You brighten this day, Your Royal Highness.” He told me, before stepping closer to add, in a whisper. “Sorry you have been dragged to this.”

I giggled, “I’m happy to be here, sir.”

Straightening up, he noticed my father was already greeting the man behind him. “Hopefully we won’t bore you too much. I have tried to bring someone else closer to your age. Have you met my son?”

The handler didn’t know it, but there were no introductions necessary. And yet, all I could do was smile politely as we were introduced to:

“His Royal Highness, Prince Harry of Wales.”

I wondered, for a moment, if he would acknowledge that we already knew each other. 

“It’s a pleasure, Your Royal Highness.” Holding my hand in his, he brought my knuckles to his lips. 

The answer was, obviously, no. So I lowered myself again in a curtsy as an excuse to avert my eyes from his.

I couldn’t understand why, but I had been unprepared for him. With all of Auguste’s preparation, all the briefings, with all the preachings about my appearance, no one had prepared me for him. I don’t know if it was that, like me, he was one of the youngest there, or how absurdly, almost ridiculously tall he was, or maybe how the blue in his eyes contrasted with the red of his hair, but he just… stunned me. When he kissed my hand, his eyes traveled down my legs all the way back to pierce mine, igniting a wave of electricity down my spine I was unable to control. 

He leaned back, and there we stood, hand in hand, wordlessly. 

“You can follow the King, ma’am.” Auguste whispered behind me, his voice making me jump slightly, as I quickly pulled my hand from Harry’s, not before realizing he had something scribbled on his palm.

My father and the Queen were deep in conversation, with Charles besides them, as they reached the center of the platform to watch the guards. The Queen in the middle, my father to her right, and the Prince of Wales to her left, I walked forward to stand beside my father, while Prince Harry walked to his. 

We waited just a moment, and then the band started playing the Savoy National Anthem, and the British Anthem after it. A few words said, more ceremony here and there, and the Prince Wales formally invited my father to inspect the Guards, so they left together, accompanied by one of the military leaders to walk among the rolls of guards,  as the three of us stood behind to watch.

“I was sorry to hear about your mother, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I said, looking regretful, walking towards her, closing the gap left behind by the others. “She was sorry she couldn’t be here.”

“I hope it’s nothing serious.” Prince Harry interjected.

“A sprained ankle.” I explained, looking ahead. 

“Harry is also here after a small hiccup with the Duchess of Cornwall, my daughter-in-law.” His grandmother told me. “An illness in her family, nothing serious.”

“Hopefully I’ll have time to meet her before we leave.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” She nodded. “How did you mother hurt herself?”

“Horse fall. She was never very fond of Polo, I’m afraid this will drive her further away from it.”

“Oh, that is regretful.” The Queen said. 

Harry looked at me. “Do you play?” 

“I do, sir.” 

“Harry is very good,” his grandmother told me, “he will be the one playing with you in the charity match in the coming days.”

“I look forward to-“, I started, but Harry had started the exact same sentence. We locked eyes, and chuckled.

“You first.” I said.

“Please, I insist.” He responded, cheeks reddening.

His grandmother looked between us, and then back to the uniformed men in front. She then said, in a low tone, something I would spend a large part of the upcoming months thinking obsessively about:

“Be careful with him... He will charm you, but he is a heartbreaker.”

The words astonished me so much I looked at her, unsure she had actually said them. But she had, clearly, because Harry was also looking at her, quite shocked.

“Granny!” he complained, in such a whiny tone I broke into laughter.

“Do I lie?” She asked him, grinning. It only made him look more shocked. 

“Don’t ruin my reputation in front of foreign royals!” he said, in a low tone, before looking at me. “Specially such pretty ones.”

My giggle froze in my throat under his intense glare, and I could feel my cheeks reddening.

The Queen looked at me. “Oh, you’re blushing. It’s too late, I see.”

It was.

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

Margueritte’s outfit

The ask box is open! Let me know your thoughts? And if at all possible, like this page so I know you liked it? Thank you so much!

[A/N: Attention: by continuing to read you are accepting that some sad stuff is coming. You been warned. Thanks for checking this out! Let me know your thoughts?? thanks!!!!]

[A/N2: Hey! Nat here. I wanted to talk a little more about the story we are about to go on together.

In the upcoming chapters you will be introduced to the Royal Family of Savoy, a fictitious European country right below the UK, to left of France. When I first posted a fanfiction, FIUYMI, I made the main character latina, since that’s what I am, and I had previously felt that I couldn’t relate to other characters I had read. In this one, however, I decided I wanted to write about a fictitious monarchy, and I knew I wanted to make it as realistic as possible. 

As much as I wanted at many points in the story to make the character look more like me, the idea felt like cheating: Margueritte is a blood royal, born to a life of specific privileges and hardships, and pretending she could look like the type of people who don’t have white privilege would be trying to ignore a very real issue: all monarchies - past and present - existed, lasted and gathered riches on the back of people of color. Most of their descendants still carry white and wealth privilege because these royal families, however many years ago, supported and perpetuated colonialism and white supremacy that left countless countries and their populations still recovering today.

That is a legacy Margueritte didn’t chose, and which she also doesn’t have to face, but in this story she will chose too. As you’ll see, she finds herself in a much more influential position she thought she would have, and as such she realizes she has two options: she can stick to the message her family - and other royal families - have perpetuated for generations and keep her head high, mouth and ears shut, so their legacy can survive; or she can chose to be a modern Queen who will make the institution relevant again. I want to write about this because this issue is important for the times we live in, particularly after the way the Duchess of Sussex was treated in the United Kingdom.

What that will look like will depend on who Margueritte is as a person and whose advice she takes, and that is a journey I hope you’ll take with us =) ]

[andy-the-8th]

Things Green and Growing

Part 9 of Creatures That Defy Logic

Read on AO3

Sam's last day at the greenhouses for the summer and seeing her sister off back to college.

cw: homophobic language

A/N: I just really like the idea of Sam and Jess being biology bros

Also we meet Sam's dad. He's an asshole.

The rushing fans and cool mist of the greenhouse definitely made the late August heat more bearable - no matter how much you might love your job, there's only so much summer sun you (or your plants) could take without some assistance.

"Am I doing this right?"

Jess looked up at Sam from the other side of a table of junipers, a spiky carpet of green across the long low table, contrasting the spotty gray of the wet concrete greenhouse floor. He'd come by the greenhouse a few times over the summer - even though he didn't work there, he insisted he help with something if he was going to hang out. Sam had eventually agreed to let him take care of some of the more innocuous tasks.

Pruning clippers in hand, Jess had been tasked with cutting back the overgrown shoots from the Japanese star junipers - the small conifers were popular for their hardiness as a ground cover, especially as a more durable and eco-friendly replacement for grass. This meant though that their lower branches would snake over the edges of the black plastic pots they were growing in, running sideways in every direction, getting tangled in each other, burning and drying out foliage.

Sam walked over to inspect his handiwork. Actually not too bad.

"Yeah, they look fine."

"Awesome. Thanks for letting me prune something, feels more important than moving things around from table to table" Jess said cheerfully.

"No problem" Sam had come to genuinely enjoy spending time with Jess, and not just as a confidant. Sure, he never got any less excessively enthusiastic, would still frequently go off on tangents of facts and theories, but she'd gotten used to his pattern of speaking. He'd clearly been scared of being annoying the first time he'd visited, and pretty much stayed quiet the few times he'd met Jackie or Jen. Trying to be a bit more normal around new people.

So in a way, she was glad he was comfortable being himself around her now.

Sam went back to the table of peace lilies: graceful, broad glossy dark green leaves with their delicate white alien blooms on long stalks above the thick cluster of greenery at the base. Like the junipers - like most potted plants packed together for commercial purposes - the lower levels were at risk of suffocation, for both light and air, and had to be clipped off before they turned yellow and started to attract mold.

They kept working in silence for a long while, the only sound in the greenhouse the gentle rush of the fans, the occasional hiss of the misting system, the soft clicks of the pruning clippers punctuating at either end of the space.

"So school starts back up in a week."

Sam caught that that was both a perfectly normal observation and a veiled question about what they'd both been thinking since August started. Cody was supposed to be back soon.

"Do you think he'll come back at night? So no one sees him transform back?"

"I don't know, probably." Of course Sam still missed her boyfriend, but it had also been good to spend the summer focusing on her own interests, her own friends, away from swimming and social drama. But she knew she looked forward to seeing him.

Still, it would be a lie to say she wasn't more than a little apprehensive as well.

Like, he literally wasn't human. A lot had probably changed from spending some time as a full-time merman. And what sort of sea creatures were they anyway? Were merpeople more like whales, pelagic, solitary, mostly sticking to the vast fathoms of the open oceans? Living alone or in two or three individuals? Or were they more like dolphins, staying in the shallows in big social pods? Was it like in the movies, secret underwater cities of merpeople with their own cultures, music, governments?

It wasn't too unrealistic to imagine that any of those might significantly change someone's demeanor or even personality. She still got hung up on the whole telepathy thing as well - if Cody came back able to read minds, that might just be too weird of a thing to deal with on top of starting high school.

Jess didn't seem to see any of those questions as anxieties, of course. Quite the opposite. To be fair, he wasn't the one dating him either.

"Gosh, I wonder what it all was like." His voice that that airy sort of awe he'd had back when Cody was still going through the transformations. They actually hadn't really talked about him much over the summer, which Sam had found a little surprising - Jess seemed equally excited to just talk with her, especially with their shared interests in biology. He'd listened attentively when Sam wanted to talk over her mom's work with environmental regulations, or projects she was taking on with the envi-sci club at school next year, or balancing swimming with her other extracurriculars.

"Guess we'll find out." Sam carefully kept any apprehension out of her voice. She did want to know about it, as much as Cody wanted to tell her - but she also wanted to keep their first year of high school as normal as possible after junior high's supernatural finale.

"Yeah. I think I've gotten all the shoots on the junipers."

"Alright, thanks Jess. I'm finishing up here, then will have to be getting home. Jackie's leaving for college again tonight, and I think my dad will be coming to see her off as well."

Sam bit her lip at that. She didn't like having to talk about her father. It wasn't like having divorced parents was abnormal - she guessed that was the case for Jess as well, since he never talked about his mom - but she still didn't like having to bring up her father in more detail than necessary.

"Oh, OK. D'you want me to stick around and help clean up?"

"Nah it'll be fine. Ms. Brantwood should be coming by soon anyway, before I lock up."

"Alright." Jess walked over to the open greenhouse door, where he'd leaned his bike against the frame. He paused for a moment, wiping his glasses with the hem of his shirt where they'd fogged up from the quick temperature and humidity shift, squinting in the sun.

Sam had turned back to the peace lilies, arranging them with proper spacing on the low table, fishing the spray bottle where it had disappeared in the thick stand of leaves, pots, and dirt.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?" she turned her head over her shoulder to where he was still just outside the door, helmet strapped on, hands on the bike ready to go.

"Can you call me if you hear first when he comes back?"

Sam smiled and exhaled out her nose, relaxed her shoulders. "Of course. You too, OK? You're a lot closer to the water than me."

"Oh definitely." Jess balanced to one side on the bike, ready to kick off. "See'ya!"

"See'ya later Jess."

She heard him head off, wheels crunching over the gravel down to the sidewalk, saw him blurred through the glass walls, disappear as he went around the front of the building.

Grabbing the spray bottle and the clippers, she walked them down to the worn wooden cabinets and coat rack built into the wall next to the greenhouse office, hung her gloves on the hook. She took the broom back over to the peace lily table, made sure she hadn't missed any stray leaves or sprinkles of soil on the wet concrete floor. The bell on the door of the office jingled once as it opened and closed - Ms. Brantwood, the owner, came out then, clipboard in one hand, glasses perched on the end of her nose. Ms. Brantwood always looked like some hybrid of a farmer and a librarian, flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, workboots, her gray hair in a tight bun, glasses held on a colorful beaded strap around her neck.

"Ms. Brathwaite," she said congenially. "Here you go." She handed Sam an envelope.

"Thanks Ms. B." Her paycheck from the summer, headed straight for her college savings once she got home.

"Thanks for all the help this summer! The peace lilies never looked better." She smiled approvingly over at the displays where Sam had spent most of the afternoon. "We'd be happy to have you back again."

"That'd be great! Thank you again for having me" Sam tucked the envelope in her canvass bag, slung it over her shoulder, and started to the door.

"Good luck with high school - it's scary at first but you'll do great."

Sam smiled again and backed out the open door, closing it behind her, the screen making a quick whoosh sound before the door clacked on the wood frame. She shifted her bag on her shoulders and started down the sidewalk for home.

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

"If you really have that much of a problem with it, you can just leave."

Lindsey crossed her arms and leaned back on her kitchen counter, staring down her ex-husband, who was at the bottom of the stairs next to the front door, one hand on the newel post, head hanging down in frustration.

"I don't have a problem, I have an opinion. Goddamnit, do you have to make everything into one of your crusades?"

"I don't have crusades, Steve, I have morals. It's none of your business how she looks, Jackie is a grown woman."

"Staying in a house that I pay to keep you in."

"Don't bullshit me like that. You known damn well I supported us. The house was only ever in my name, for fucks sake. Your child support checks aren't anything we rely on."

"Trust me, they wouldn't exist if the court didn't say so."

Steve glared back at her, the silence tense. Lindsey huffed and went back to packing granola bars and sandwiches in the lunchboxes on the table - snacks to send with Jackie for the car ride to the airport.

"You shouldn't have let her go to that school either."

"She got a full scholarship" Lindsey snapped. She was rapidly reaching the end of her rope with this conversation and was just about ready to throw Steve out of her house if he continued like he was. He was the father of her kids, he technically had visitation rights - but she wouldn't have him talk like this in their house. Thank God Jackie was outside, and Sam still at work.

"Yeah, well, maybe if she'd gone to a state university instead of some liberal arts bullshit, she wouldn't be dressing like some fucking dyke now."

That was it - he was through.

"Get out. Now."

She threw every bit of venom she could into the final word, her gaze ice cold, her knuckles white gripping the edge of the kitchen counter.

Steve sneered cruelly at her as he shifted to  go and roughly put his hand on the door knob. "Wonder where she got that from."

He opened the door quickly to find Sam on the doorstep, her face surprised and pale. Steve stopped, also startled for a moment. He didn't know how much she'd heard - he didn't care. She was grown up enough to start knowing about the real world unfiltered, as far as he was concerned.

"Hey, Dad," she offered shakily, awkwardly. He just looked down at her coldly.

"Good luck in school next year." He turned back for one last glare at Lindsey, then pushed past Sam down the front steps, to his car in the driveway, leaving the front door open. He slammed the car door as he got in, backed down past Lindsey's car into the cul-de-sac where Jackie was standing next to Vanessa's old Jeep, and sped off around the corner, tires spinning harsh squeals, out of the neighborhood.

Jackie and Vanessa quickly looked over at Sam, clearly worried. Jackie walked up across the small front yard, making herself smile sarcastically, trying to conjure humor for her sister who still was frozen and scared-looking on the doorstep.

"Another grand finale and exit from the father of the year, ladies and ladies!" she announced dramatically.  Sam smiled a little at that - Jackie's features relaxed in relief. Vanessa stayed by the Jeep, eyes closed and looking down, fingers pressed to her temples, shaking her head in exasperation.

"Hey, Sam." Jackie looked hard at her, serious. "Don't listen to anything he says. He's an asshole. Got it?"

"Yeah Jackie. Got it." Sam went inside and put her bag down on the floor next to the kitchen table, where Lindsey was aggressively zipping up the lunch boxes. She might have chided Jackie for using that kind of language in front of her, in less charged circumstances.

"I just have one more box upstairs, 'kay Mom?"

"Alright, don't keep Vanessa waiting out there too long though. I'm set to go when you are."

Sam bit her lip and looked down at the wood grain in the kitchen table, at the lines in the linoleum floor. "Mom, I'm going to put my stuff upstairs too, I'll be down to see them off."

Sam quickly took the stairs, two at a time. She tossed her bag on her bed, closed the door, and turned down the hall to Jackie's room.

She was standing at her bureau, small cardboard box in hand, quickly putting her many rings, chokers, and bracelets in, her back to the door. She turned her head, hearing Sam step into the door frame.

"What's up?"

"Jackie, I- something Dad said -"

"Hey, what'd I tell you? Ignore him. He doesn't know shit." Jackie huffed and went back to gathering things off the top of the bureau.

"Yeah I know." Sam looked down, nervous. "But what he said about how you looked, like a...a.."

"A dyke?"

".......yeah."

To Sam's surprise Jackie actually laughed a little, put her last few bits of jewelry in the box, shoved it into her black backpack, covered in pins and patches. She crossed the room and put her hands on her sister's shoulders. She breathed in, and Sam looked up at her a little.

"Listen to me again now. We are strong, modern women. We can look how we want. We can be how we want. It's a new millennium, we can't stay stuck in that patriarchal bullshit forever."

Jackie definitely looked how she wanted - hair spiked up today, black nailpolish, Bikini Kill shirt with cut off sleeves over her black jeans.

"So, does that mean...?"

Jackie smiled and rolled her eyes. "Actually, no. I'm straight, I'm just goth and like to piss off old men." She paused, serious again. "But there'd be nothing wrong with that if I were, Sam. If anyone were."

"Um, oh. Yeah, OK, I jus-"

Jackie's eyes flicked up, past Sam's face and cutting her off, looking past her face to the doorway. Lindsey was standing there, arms folded, lips pursed, her eyes nervous.

She and Jackie held eye contact for a noticeable moment - Sam turned her head to look at her mom as well. Lindsey's eyes calmed and softened almost too quickly to notice.

"You guys about ready to head out?"

"Yeah Mom, we're done." Jackie walked back over and hauled her backpack up onto one shoulder, the buttons rattling into each other with the motion. Sam turned back and walked past her mom, leading the way down the stairs and out the front door. She paused on the doorstep to let them pass. Jackie hoisted her backpack straighter and stopped in front of Sam on the doorstep.

"You know you can always call me if you want. High school can suck sometimes, if you want to talk to someone who already did it you know where to find me."

"Hey, I was in high school once too" Lindsey added, smiling a bit, trying to lighten the mood as well. Jackie rolled her eyes dramatically.

"'kay, how about if you want to talk to someone who did high school within the last hundred years, THEN call me."

Jackie hugged Sam tight, and walked across the grass to where Vanessa was waiting by the car. Vanessa and Jackie both went to college in Philadelphia - Vanessa at Temple University, Jackie at Haverford College. They were on the same flight over - Vanessa's mom was an airline pilot, so would drive the Jeep back home from the airport after they'd left.

Lindsey followed her down to the side of the car, stopping on the curb, arms crossed over her chest. The air had cooled significantly as the sun went down, almost chilly in contrast to the day's heat.

"Call me when you get in, OK?"

"Yeah of course, same as always." Lindsey hugged Jackie and Vanessa, stepped back from the Jeep as they pulled away with the windows down. Jackie turned up the radio, the energetic chugging guitar and drums filling the summer night, bouncing off the houses around the cul-de-sac.

"WOOOOOOOO!!" as Vanessa steered them away from the sidewalk, Jackie looked back with a wild excited smile, hands up in the rock gesture.

"DRIVE SAFE GIRLS" Lindsey called over the loud music, waving as they turned the corner and out of the development, the music fading as they left.

Lindsey stayed looking down the road for a few moments after the Jeep was gone - from where she was leaning against the front door, Sam saw her mom's eyes were a bit wet. Lindsey walked back up the yard and into the house, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Sorry, sorry, just you girls are growing up so fast." She smiled then as they both walked back inside. As she closed the door behind them, she un-did and re-did her bun, pushing back the loose red strands from the day, refreshing, restoring order.

Following their routine pattern, Sam walked to the kitchen, got two glasses of water, handed one to her mom as they both settled at the table.

Lindsey took the glass, gently clinked it against Sam's. "Hydrate or die!" she said cheerfully, familiarly as part of their home-from-work/inside joke ritual they'd organically developed over the summer, with Sam getting back from the greenhouses the same time Lindsey got back from the offices.

"Hydrate or die." Sam replied, smiling. They both sipped their water silently, decompressing from the day, from Steve, from Jackie's departure.

"You got everything you need for next week?"

"Yeah, I'm set on everything. I got paid from Brantwood today too."

"Oh good, I'm going by the bank tomorrow morning, I can deposit it for you."

"Thanks Mom."

Eventually Lindsey got leftovers from the fridge to heat up - dinner passed at a welcomely-uneventful rate, just chatting about work from the day, errands to run. They finished the dishes and Sam filled up one of the watering cans on the counter to bring upstairs to her plants. She'd put the succulents on a nightly watering schedule, better to accommodate the extra heat this time of year without extra evaporation.

"Goodnight Mom."

Lindsey looked up from the reports she had absentmindedly been paging through after finishing the dishes - environmental justice never sleeps. "Night hon. You OK?" Her voice was gentle, but firm enough that she indicated that she was leaving it open if Sam wanted to talk about any of the commotion from earlier.

Maybe not tonight.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Goodnight." Sam was up the stairs and out of sight.

Lindsey closed the folder on the table, shuffled it back into the small pile she'd pulled from her briefcase. She leaned forward, hands on her forehead, taking long, soothing breaths with her eyes closed. She stayed like that a while, listening to Sam moving about above - back and forth around her room with the watering can, down the hall to the bathroom and back, waiting til she heard her door click shut for the night. She got up, quietly pushed her chair back under the table. She filled her glass at the sink, downing it in one draft, slowly and smoothly, letting the coolness spread through her whole body.  Hydrate or die.

Filing folders back into her briefcase could wait til morning. It had been a long day.

END NOTES:

I imagined the song Jackie and Vanessa are listening to is Rebel Girl by Bikini Kill

Tune in next time for more of "which of Sam's supporting cast is going to be a lesbian"

Jackie and Lindsey continue to be fun and interesting to write - maybe future spinoffs? Does it still count as fanfiction when the original characters get spinoffs?

[phoebehalliwell]

hi! do you have any headcanons abt henry jr. particularly as the only nonmagical member of the fam?

i most definitely do!! okay, so for starters, both kat & tam were raised “without magic”; they still went to magic school and paige definitely used magic around the house but they had no active powers, just like henry. and they were all raised on these grand stories their mom would tell of these amazing adventures of the charmed ones and how they were all going to have these great adventures of their own what i’m getting at was for like the first six or seven years of his life henry thought he was magical. it wasn’t until all three of the mitchell kids were with piper and piper was explaining certain elements of her power to the twins and telling them how to use it once their powers get unbound and all that and henry was like what about me what will my power do? and piper’s like you have the most special power of all because you’re really smart & good at learning : ) and then like immediately texted paige like honey you need to explain to henry he isn’t magical bc the longer you wait the harder it’s gonna get. 

it’s actually henry sr. who sits his son down and explains to him that he’s not like his sister or his mother, but how that’s not necessarily a bad thing. he’s mortal, but that doesn’t mean he can’t help people and do great things without magic. and henry sr. really tries to sell him on this whole idea of being a mortal, especially one that knows about magic, gives you a completely new viewpoint on the world, and allows you to see and understanding things in ways no one else will. (and uhh between you & me it doesn’t really convince baby henry that much but the fact that his dad takes him on fun little “mortals only” adventures helps)

uhh that being said henry still really Really wishes he was magical. uhh enter the reading phase. so, for starters, henry was already like smart and really good at / enjoyed reading. but in this sorta late elementary school thru middle school period he develops sorta two obsessions: 1) ya (specifically fantasy) novels. because all of these novels sorta follow the same basic rules of the plain protagonist becoming something great, being whisked away to this great world where they find out they have magic, where they find out they have this amazing destiny to fulfill, the nobody to somebody progression. and uhh henry really craves that. he really wishes that he is somehow magic, in some overlooked way, in some way that will manifest and prove him to be great enough to be a significant part of the charmed line, not some mortal afterthought. and then 2) magical texts/histories. and this is sorta the more shameful/secretive ones, the books he reads under the covers with a flashlight bc he just doesn’t want anyone to know that he spends hours scouring texts and stories of the charmed ones and various magical creatures desperately trying to find something he could be. no one knew who his biological parents were, it could be possible that somehow magical blood runs through his veins. he studies telekinesis and then and midnight hops out of his bed and spends an hour trying to knock a book off his shelf. he reads about orbing and it’s mechanics and tries to move himself across the room. his studies different creatures, and tests how high he can jump, how fast he can run, how long he can hold his breath underwater, trying to find some trait of him that could somehow be significant. (and of course, he keeps all of these trials secret to the best of his ability bc he would be embarrassed as all hell if it ever came out)

eventually, his studies of magical texts become less of a desperate search for something in his bloodline to more a flex on other witches. bc yeah, they might have magic, but he can still hold his head high knowing he will know more than they ever will. when tam & kat get their powers unbound and their practice moves from the hypothetical to the practical, henry still goes with his sisters to magic school, but instead of spending time in the classroom, he chooses to spend his time in the library.

he also loves studying the book of shadows. yeah, the library has loads more information on its walls then the book could ever contain, but the book has heart. it has this undeniable spirit and energy that ties to countless generations of the warren line, and he really likes to run his hands over the pages and pretend he’s really a part of the warren line (which his family is always ready to fight him on this and say he is a part of the line and blood doesn’t matter, but he’s just like come on guys. you’re my family and i love you but the warren line is a line of witches and i am undeniably not a part of that. but he still likes to imagine).

and y’know like henry’s like twelve or thirteen or something but he really has a lot of information and an insanely through knowledge of book and he’s just like flipping through it or minding his own business in the attic when wyatt (who at this point would be seventeen or eighteen) orbs in looking to id the demon he’s currently after and henry’s like oh you know like what’s it like and he really you know doesn’t want to be an asshole about it or imply he knows more than wyatt (though if you’re outside the family and questioned this kids intelligence he’s demolish you) henry really tries to pass it off as a casual curiosity/polite conversation. and wyatt’s like well im looking for this one demon with like x, y, & z and henry’s like have you thought about this demon? and he’s definitely right and wyatt can tell how much this w means for henry and really starts this sorta tradition of trying to incorporate henry into the research phase of demon fighting (which henry absolutely loves)

and it’s sorta like this self-feeding cycle he gets this role bc he knows a lot but he feels like because he has this role he has to know even more so if you feel like he was a voracious reader before,,,, whew boy are you not ready for now ( in my canon henry Can read latin). and i feel like he’s really close with wyatt bc wyatt is Also A Nerd and genuinely loves to hear henry ramble about this cool new thing that he learned and i feel like wyatt’s totally game to go get boba with henry and hear about all these things the kids been learning i feel like these two have a really close bond. 

and while i’m on the subject of relationships, i feel like henry was definitely one of those kids who had more girl friends than he did guy friends bc a lot of his formative years were spent with his sisters who in turn spent a lot of time with melinda and pj as all four of of those girls were born in 07. so like you know henry would do movie nights with mellie, tam, kat, pj, & parker (and then peyton when she was old enough to watch movies without getting nightmares)

and you know right now he’s like seventeen and a senior in high school and i feel like he’s pretty settled into who he is. he and his dad definitely still to their little “mortals only” adventures, and like a part of him will always sorta be bummed that he isn’t magical, but he’s come to terms with who he is. and he’s not gonna let the fact that he is a mortal you know like hold him back or diminish him, because he is a part of the charmed legacy and the warren line, and he is carving out his own role for himself. and everyone else in the family definitely recognizes him as capable and yeah sometimes he does get left behind bc it’s objectively too dangerous to bring a mortal along and he’s gotten pretty good at being okay with that (or telling himself he’s okay with that). he knows who he is and who he is is undeniably self made. he didn’t coast by on some unearned, hand-me-down skill, and he wears that fact with pride. he may be mortal, but he doesn’t let anyone look down on him for it.

[livingthroughchoices-blog]

The Marshmallow Chronicles (Ch. 2: Welcome to Cordonia)

Prev | Next

Rating: T

Pairing: Drake x MC

Words: 1,761

By the time Drake got up the next morning, Liam had gone back to Cordonia for some diplomatic event, thankfully taking Tariq – always eager to suck up to nobles – with him. Maxwell had already gone for a run, showered and had breakfast.

“Finally! Ten more minutes and I would’ve had to wake you up!” said Maxwell, handing him a croissant from the fancy bakery down the street.

“And then I would’ve had to kick your ass,” Drake’s sharp tone was undercut by the grateful look he gave Maxwell. He hungrily tore into his croissant.

“So, listen, I had an idea...”

“Maxwell, is this about your stupid underwater club again?! Because I swear to God–”

"Hey! I stand by Club Sub! It’s a great idea and you’ll regret not getting in on the ground fl...” he feels Drake glaring and him and chooses to let it go. “Anyway, no, this is not about that. It’s about Riley.”

“Riley who?” Drake asked absentmindedly, wiping crumbs off his mouth.

“Are you serious? The waitress from yesterday?”

Drake had the decency to feel ashamed of himself. “Right, that Riley, sure. So, what’s your idea?”

“We should bring her to Cordonia! You know, to surprise Liam! House Beaumont could sponsor her!”

“What! How is this worse than Club Sub?!”

“For the last time, Club Sub is going to be a WILD success, and this is also a great idea. Think about it, Liam practically fell for her in one night; it would be the best surprise! Not to mention, this could be my chance to help House Beaumont. Bertrand would be so happy!”

Drake shook his head. “I should have known; this isn’t about Liam at all, is it? This is just about restoring your House to its ‘former glory’ or whatever. And you’re gonna be using some random girl who might end up destroyed.” He scoffed in disgust, “You people.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, that’s not true! Of course it’s about Liam. And I promise, there will be full disclosure: Riley will know what to expect and what we get out of sponsoring her. She will only come if she really wants to, you have my word.” 

“Fine, but for the record, this is a terrible idea. She won’t last 2 days.”

“Noted.” Maxwell grinned.

Drake waited in the cab to the airport while Maxwell asked Riley to come with them. 

This is so stupid. 

He sighed. How was some clueless girl from New York going to survive the court? Hell, Savannah hadn’t and she’d been a part of it her whole life...

This train of thought was welcomely interrupted by the arrival of Maxwell and – he groaned – Riley.

“So, you’re coming with us, huh?” he asked tonelessly.

“Looks like it!” She looked absolutely ecstatic. 

She’s not half as nervous as she should be. 

He shrugged and turned to look out the window.

Drake hadn’t said much on the way back to Cordonia; he figured between Maxwell and Riley they had the conversation side of things more than covered. He wasn’t wrong. Other than sleeping, they had done little else than talk about Cordonia: how beautiful it was, how wealthy, how nice the people were. 

This was definitely all true – with the exception of some people – but Drake felt a sense of urgency. Why tell her about all the good stuff, instead of warning her about the bad stuff? He’d hate for her to go into this blindly.

“Say ‘goodbye’ to New York and ‘hello’ to Cordonia!” Maxwell was almost as excited as Riley was, looking out the window impatiently.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening...”

He couldn’t keep it in any longer. She had to know. “Believe it. We’ll be landing soon, ready or not. And if you’re not ready, those ladies at court are going to eat you alive.”

Maxwell looked at him reproachfully. “Yeesh, don’t scare her, Drake. You okay, Riley?”

Riley turned to look directly at Drake, defiant. “Honestly... I’m not afraid of anything.”

Cocky. At least she had a good attitude. “Heh. We’ll see once we land.”

“I don’t get why you’re being so grim about this...” she phrased it like a question. 

It irritated him. It’s not like he had no reason to be grim; he’d seen this happen before. 

He told her as much, “Look, no offense, but I’ve seen girls like you come and go. It never ends well. Not for you, not for Liam, not for the royal family.”

That last part was not strictly true, Liam had never seriously fallen for a foreigner before, but he figured his main purpose should be to dissuade her from this whole idiocy before it was too late.

Maxwell retorted with indignation, “Riley’s not some crown-chaser.”

“Drake... to be fair, YOU’RE more my type,” she smirked.

Drake thought he misheard. He ran through the sentence in his head and once he was sure she’d actually said that, decided it must have been a joke, “Hah.”

“I’m serious. I don’t usually go for rich boys, much less royalty.”

Is she for real? Not that it even matters. 

Still, Drake felt a ridiculous blush creep up his neck. Fortunately, at that moment, Maxwell let out an excited exclamation, so no one noticed.

“Hey, look! You can see Cordonia out the window! Riley, you won’t want to miss this!”

Riley hurried to Maxwell’s side, while Drake looked out the next window. It really was breathtaking. The crystalline ocean surrounded a mountainous island, which was all but covered in homogenous red-tiled roofs. On a tall, forested hill stood a magnificent palace.

“That’s Cordonia? It’s like something out of a fairy tale! The sparkling ocean, the swaying trees–”

“If you burst into song, I’m jumping out of the plane.” Drake quipped.

Riley chuckled, “I’m just saying it’s beautiful.”

Maxwell seemed relieved she’d liked it. “It is, isn���t it? Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The journey from the royal family’s private hangar to the palace was a short one. When Riley caught the first glimpse of the imposing building, her mouth fell open.

“...the Royal Palace. Welcome to you home for the next few months, Riley.”

“This is where I’m staying? I didn’t realize I’d be living in the palace!” she was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Most of the nobility live here while the social season is underway... Including all the ladies vying for Liam’s hand.”

“Yeah, living under one roof just makes it easier to attend the rose ceremony later...” Drake smirked.

Maxwell rolled his eyes, “Drake’s just kidding... at least about the roses. Anyway, I’ll show you to your room, Riley...”

"This is my cue to take off. See you around... if you’re lucky.” He waved at her and turned his back, not waiting for her to respond.

He headed towards the grounds, where he’d be meeting Bastien for training. His mentor was already waiting for him.

“Hey, Drake, you’re a bit late.” It wasn’t a reproach, more like a question.

“Yeah, we took off 20 minutes later than we’d planned.”

“Why? You seem annoyed.”

“Maxwell insisted we bring this girl...”

“A girl? What are you talking about?”

Drake filled Bastien in on the Riley situation. To his surprise, he didn’t seem upset.

“Bastien, we don’t know this girl, we don’t know anything about her! That has to bother you!”

“Obviously I’ll run a background check, but if she’s just a regular girl, like I suspect, then what’s the harm? I think you should reflect on why you’re so bothered by her.”

“Wh– I-I’m not that bothered,” Drake spluttered, “I just... you know what it’s like here... Savannah...”

Bastien put an arm on his shoulder, “You’re jumping to conclusions. We still don’t know the circumstances under which your sister chose to leave,” he saw Drake was about to protest and he put his hand up, “however, even if a member of the court is to blame, that doesn’t mean this lady will suffer the same fate. She is not Savannah.”

Drake rubbed his face, “You’re right, I know. But still, she should know what she’s in for.”

“And I have no doubt you’ll warn her pleasantly,” Bastien teased. “Now, let’s train.”

After a grueling half hour of self-defense practice, Drake went to his room and showered. Once he got dressed, he finally checked his voicemail. 

He’d followed Savannah’s faint trace, through the internet, phone calls and long shots, up to a hotel in the northern coast of Spain. He’d called to inquire about her before their trip to New York. The receptionist he talked to was new and hadn’t seen her, but she offered to ask her colleague. Time to see if his search had led anywhere.

He had one new voice message and it was from the hotel. His heart soared when the other receptionist confirmed that he had seen someone fitting Savannah’s description, only to drop down to his feet when he followed this up by saying she’d left two days ago and left no contact information.

Another dead-end. Whatever had happened to her, she really didn’t want to be found.

“Riley Addams of New York.”

Drake looked up from his champagne at this announcement to see Riley confidently entering the room. He’d been wrong about her the first day; she was definitely above average. Tonight, wearing a bold red dress complete with a black mask and devil horns, she looked striking. To his surprise, she spotted him and walked towards him.

“So, you showed up after all.”

“Well, you’re as charming as ever,” she replied, though not unpleasantly.

“Hah. Compared to most of the nobles here, I’m your best friend.”

“Drake... I believe you.”

For some reason, this exasperated him. 

She doesn’t know the half of it, or she would have left. I guess it’s better than nothing. 

“That’s the first smart thing you’ve said.”

She finally looked mad at him. “Thanks.” She turned to leave.

Drake reached for her arm, “Look, I’m not trying to be a jerk. I’m just trying to help.” 

“You have a very peculiar way of helping.” 

Drake looked down at his feet, feeling self-conscious. He never knew how to handle these things. He didn’t mean to come off that harsh, but better that than whatever happened to... 

Nope, we’re not thinking about that right now.

“I’m just saying the things that I wish someone would’ve told me a long time ago. Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, I could use another glass of champagne... Good luck, Riley.”

For the first time, he meant it.

[aristocratlegacy]

Chapter Sixty-Seven: Bar Crawl

Ok first chapter with Gen eight as adults! I’m gonna do one more of them in the city living together because that was so fun to do- sorta reminded me of the old days when you could send all of the spares and stuff together to uni in ts2 legacies. That was fun. I’m also going to do the first heir poll for the first time in like 100 years, even though I have a personally clear favorite, I’m still gonna leave it up to change. Enjoy!

9 PM

Pierce: “Oh my god, guys, you’re never going to believe what a shitty day I had at wo-”

Pierce: “What the fuck?”

Chloe: “Hey there Hawkeye! You’re late!”

Pierce: “I was at work, Chloe. What the hell is going on here?”

Chloe: “What does it look like?”

Pierce: “It looks like a party.”

Chloe: “Duh. Want me to get you a drink?”

Pierce: “No, I wasn’t invited so it might be weird.”

Chloe: “Invited? What? Oh- ok. Bye I guess…..he’s so weird. Oh my god Izzy hey cutie!”

?: “Hey, Vivien, how’s showbiz?”

Vivien: “Do I know you? Oh! You must know me from my commercial work as woman with boil! Or perhaps dead stipper number five?. I was so proud of the work I did on that those, I think it’ll really help a lot of people understand the workings of the world.”

Stranger: “Oh, uh, no- I just...live next door. We’ve met like, five times.”

Vivien: “Really? Huh. I don’t remember any of that.”

Stranger: “Oh. I should check out that commercial you’re talking about, I’d love to see it.”

Vivien: “I’m sure you would, it’s genre-transcending really.”

Stranger: “I’m Walter Trimble.”

Vivien: “Ok. Bye Walker!”

Walter: “Oh...bye.”

Chloe: “OMG, I want you to meet my brother, he’s an art critic too so I think you’d really hit it off!”

Izzy: “Oh is your brother Pierce Aristocrat? He definitely didn’t get a few of Nancy Landgraab’s latest pieces.”

Chloe: “Well then you’ll get to pick his brain! Where is he….”

Chloe: “Hey, Vivi? Have you seen Pierce?”

Vivien: “No? Darling, I just got recognized for the boil ad! That guy Wallace over there quoted the entire ad from memory. He’s basically obsessed with me I’m his favorite actress.”

Chloe: “Cute! I’m gonna look for Pierce”

Pierce: “Hey!”

Vivien: “I just heard him, though.”

Pierce: “This isn’t like a spare closet or something, you can’t just make out in here you absolute hooligans!”

Chloe: “Pierce! There you are! Why are you, like, hiding in a cave when we’re having a party?”

Pierce: “Are we having a party? You didn’t even tell me about it, I wasn’t even invited! Who does that?”

Chloe: “I’m still not seeing a problem. Come out and meet my friend Izzy!”

Pierce: “No! I don’t want to go to your stupid party, Chloe.”

Chloe: “Ugh, I hate how you get like this! I’m sorry I wanted to have fun and have people over in our awesome apartment that we live in together.”

Pierce: “Then I guess I’m sorry for being pissed that I wasn’t invited to a party taking place in my own house.”

Chloe: “Great! So now that we’ve all apologized, come out and talk to people!”

Pierce: “......I’m just gonna talk to the cat the whole time.”

Chloe: “Oooooh, I don’t know about that, Walter Trimble from next door has had a monopoly on Teacup all night. He’s really awkward, poor thing.”

Pierce: “Yeah, to be awkward is obviously such a curse. How dare he not feel comfortable at a party you probably invited him to from his mailbox.”

Chloe: “Oh my gooood, Hawkeye! You’re obviously mad-”

Pierce: “I’m not mad.”

Chloe: “Yes you are!”

Pierce: “No I’m not.”

Chloe: “Are.”

Pierce: “Fine! I’m mad!”

Chloe: “UGH! What do you want me to do? Kick everybody out and go somewhere else?”

Pierce: “I mean, it would be a start.”

Chloe: “You’re ridiculous, I’m not gonna do that.”

Pierce: “Then why did you offer?!”

Vivien: “OH MY GOD!.”

Vivien: “Guys! I just got the part in Alpha Centuri!!! I’m gonna be legit famous now! Some of my castmates are gonna be at Orchid tonight, so I’m gonna bounce.

Partygoer: “Seriously?”

Pierce” “...”

Chloe: “Oh shut up. Fine.”

Chloe: “Hey everybody! We’re going to the club! We’re all drunk so I’m gonna call us a party bus!”

Party: “Woooo!”

Chloe: “Yayyy!”

Chloe: “Wait, are you coming?”

Pierce: “Yeah. Why?”

Chloe: “I just can’t with you sometimes, you know that, Pierce?”

Pierce: “Oh I know.”

10 PM

Chloe: “Is this it?”

Vivien: “Yup!”

Vivien: “Hi there! I was told I would be on the list for the Alpha Centuri cast meetup? Vivien Aristocrat.”

Bouncer: “Uhhhh...yeah, you’re on the list, but your accompanying...guests aren’t.”

Vivien: “Oh I have a plus one.”

Bouncer: “Right. A plus one.”

Vivien: “I don’t understand.”

Bouncer: “You can’t bring all these people in here.”

Vivien: “But I have a plus one.”

Bouncer: “So….pick on of your friends and go inside.

Vivien: “Well, I tried, sorry nerds, I’m gonna go party with the beautiful people- toodles!”

Chloe: “Seriously Vivi?”

Pierce: “SO lame.”

Chloe: “I’ll try to sweettalk her.”

Chloe: “Hey,”

Bouncer: “Not on the list.”

Chloe: “But...I’m level ten charisma. Look into my beautiful eyes and tell me I can’t go wherever I want.”

Bouncer: “Ok. You can go in.”

Chloe: “Without my friends?”

Pierce: “Chloe, I know what you’re thinking, and you can’t abandon me with all of the people from a party that you threw.”

Bouncer: “Look, you guys gotta move away from the door.”

Chloe: “Unbelievable. I’m gonna kill Vivi.”

Walter: “Um...h-hi. I could try.”

Chloe: “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Walter: “Yes. I’m Walter Trimble. I live next door. We’ve met many times. A package of yours was delivered to me last week?”

Chloe: “Sweetie, if I can’t get us in then I don’t think you could.”

Pierce: “Wow, he’s really gonna give it a go good for him.”

Chloe: “Is he waving us over there?”

Pierce: “Did...did Walter Trimble do something?”

Chloe: “Omg Walter you did it! How did you pull that off? Do you know this guy or something?”

Bouncer: “No, we just met….he just does some business with the club.”

Pierce: “What kind of business?”

Walter: “Secret business! Doesn’t matter let’s go inside!”

Pierce: “Hey- thanks for ditching us out there!”

Vivien: “You are so welcome. It’s nice to get that appreciation from you.”

Pierce: “No, I was being sarcastic, I’m still mad at you.”

Vivien: “Well how am I supposed to know that. How’d you get in anyway? Find a back door?”

Pierce: “No, it was super weird, that guy Walter from next door said something to the bouncer and he just….let us all inside.”

Vivien: “Seriously? That guy? What’d he say?”

Pierce: “He wouldn’t tell us. It was totally sketch.”

Vivien: “Which one is he again?”

Pierce: “Checked shirt, three o’clock.”

Vivien: “Oh there’s gotta be something fishy going on there, right?”

Pierce: “That’s what I thought. Move, I wanna get a drink.”

Vivien: “Walter, Walter, Walter...what are you hiding?”

*Crash*

Stranger: “Oh my god, I totally just spilled my drink all over you I’m so sorry!”

Vivien: “How DARE y-...hi.”

Stranger: “Did you just turn a furious comeback into a meet-cute?”

Vivien: “Trying to.”

Stranger: “I’m Veronica- you look familiar.”

Vivien: “So do you- do I know you from somewhere?”

Veronica: “I must just have...one of those faces.”

Vivien: “No, I’d remember seeing a girl as beautiful as you before.”

Veronica: “You’re...not so bad yourself.”

Pierce: “Wow...so much for detective Vivien I guess. Where’s Chloe?”

Pierce: “Is that Dustin Broke? How can that girl talk her way in with anybody?”

Even Stranger Stranger: “I have come to understand that talking to oneself isn’t acceptable in public places.”

Pierce: “Aah! Jesus- you snuck up on me. Sorry, I do that sometimes. Am I bothering you?”

Stranger Stranger: “Negative. Where I come from everybody converses aloud to themselves. It feels like home.”

Pierce: “And where exactly is that?”

Stranger Stranger: “I come from the source where energy and all life grows. I am not from any one place I am but from…..the moment.”

Pierce: “Wow. That’s really deep. So are you an artist or something?”

Stranger Stranger: “Artist….yes. I am an eccentric artist from this world.”

Pierce: “I’m an artist too...or I’m trying to be. I’m a critic right now, and I’m really good at it, but I do want to do my own art. I just feel like I haven’t had my big break of inspiration yet, though.”

Stranger Stranger: “Have you looked under your bed?”

Pierce: “For my inspiration?”

Stranger Stranger: “Or perhaps, in your zero-g chamber?”

Pierce: “Huh...that’s….not bad actually. Like underwater photography with the hair all crazy.”

Pierce: “I’m Pierce, by the way.”

Stranger Stranger: “ I have been deemed TIFFANOR.”

Pierce: “Oh, that’s pretty cool. Is that like an artist name or were your parents...modern too?”

“And a special guest tonight for a surprise performance by DJ Fliphop!!! Make some noise1”

Chloe: “Omg I love Fliphop . Not crazy about the name though. Wanna dance, Dustin?”

Dustin Broke: “Hell yeah, this dude’s my bro. Never seen him with the helmet off, though.”

Chloe: “I know! I heard that he’s, like, super secretive. Nobody knows his true identity.”

Dustin: “I read a theory it was Rudy Quick in there.” Chloe: “Oh man, I’d love to see my sister’s face if that were true.”

Vivien: “I feel so in sync with you, Veronica.”

Veronica: “I know- it’s like I’ve known you for my entire life.” Tiffanor: “I love these sounds! It sounds like my dreams!”

Pierce: “You dream in Technopop?”

DJ Fliphop : “Thank you everybody! Peace!”

Tiffanor: “The moon is almost in the third easternly quadrant. There is a gathering of other….Artists. On the beach. To display our projects.”

Pierce: “So like a gallery opening?”

Tiffanor: “.....yes.”

Pierce: “That sounds dope- can we bring the party?”

Tiffanor: “Affirmative.”

Chloe: “So where exactly are we going, Pierce?”

Pierce: “Like a cool underground gallery party at a beach for artists.”

Chloe: “Artists? Gallery? Is this gonna be some wine and cheese crap because we need to keep the momentum goin!”

Pierce: “Look at that girl. Are you telling me that she’s not taking us somewhere cool at 1 am?”

Chloe: “...Fine. She does look pretty cool. I’ll give you an hour, that’ll give me time to scope out somewhere seriously dope.”

Pierce: “Deal”

MIDNIGHT

Chloe: “This seems really weird, Hawkeye.”

Pierce: “Don’t be a baby, you’re making us look uncultured!”

Artist: “Welcome to the Coalition of Ali-st….Aliartists. It’s a new modernist movement. You can call me Kourtnacht, this is Huxlous, to their left is Garyl, then there’s Isablank, and you know our famous Tiffanor!”

Garyl: “Go, enjoy the gallery, look deeply into the eyes of any statues you see, and the ceremony shall commence in a half of one our.”

Walter: “C...ceremony?”

Chloe: “That’s a fair question. What kind of ceremony?”

Pierce: “Oh my god, Chloe, you can’t just ask him that.” Chloe: “Why? We’re invited.”

Pierce: “I’m sorry about her.”

Tiffanor: “It’s, how you say, ‘all good, dawg’”

Chloe: “I don’t get it.”

Dustin: “I dunno, this one is kinda cool. Like...if you look into it’s eyes…”

Dustin: “......................”

Chloe: “Dustin?”

Dustin: “...............”

Chloe: “DUSTIN!”

Dustin: “What? Where…...what year is it?”

Chloe: “Ugh, this party sucks so bad. Is there a bar- I need to keep the momentum of this party going or everybody’s gonna leave.”

Veronica: “I love all your black and white clothes.”

Vivien: “I love yours too. My brother and I have always thought black and white was really classy.”

Veronica: “Totally. I just feel like you totally get me, y’know?”

Vivien: “I feel that way too. Ok- on three, what’s your favorite movie?”

Veronica: “1...2..- Devil Wears Prada!”

Vivien: “The ad I did for Boil Gone!”

Veronica: “Well...I guess that’s not the same, but we have a lot else in common!”

Vivien: “Before I did the boil ad, Devil Wears Prada was my favorite movie. Miranda Priestly is my role model.”

Veronica: “Awww!”

Pierce: “All this art is crazy cool. Thanks for inviting us.”

Tiffanor: “Yes. We love the arts.”

Pierce: “Pfft- check that out, my sister is making out with somebody that looks just like her.”

Tiffanor: “I onced kissed my clone under the full moon against a crystal sky.”

Pierce: “Oh so is that like a common fantasy for people then? Huh- I definitely don’t think I’d want to hang out with myself for too long.”

Huxlous: “Pierce! Kourtnacht and I were having a disagreement about her piece, what do you think it means?”

Pierce: “Hmmm….well...The stark slab suggests the hopelessness of humanity, while the perfect circle is the opening oppritunity for good. The fact that it’s hollow on the inside indicates that it’s not as hard to break through as first impressions may imply. Overall, a very hopeful peice.”

Kourtnacht: “Yes!  That is precicely what I was saying!” Huxlous: “You are a very intelectual man, Pierce. We may consider inducting you into our organization.”

Pierce: “Dope, would I be able to display stuff at the gallery and stuff?”

Chloe: “Woo! Party!”

Partygoer: “Hey, this was really fun- but I think we’re gonna take off.”

Chloe: “Oh no! Why?”

Partygoer: “This is just getting a little weird and it’s really late, let me know if you’re doing something else this weekend though!”

Chloe: “Okay...bye cutie!”

Chloe: “Where. Is. Pierce.”

Chloe: “Pierce! People are starting to leave, we gotta rally and get somewhere livelier.”

Alien: “Let the Ceremony begin!”

Pierce: “Let’s just stay for a few more minutes to watch this and then we can take off.”

Chloe: “This is weird.”

Pierce: “No it’s just like...performance art.”

Vivien: “What the hell are we supposed to be watching?”

Chloe: “Uh-uh. I draw the line at chanting. C’mon squad- let’s boogie!”

1 AM

Pierce: “So, Chlo- where are we going exactly?”

Vivien: “Who cares where we go when I’m lost in your eyes.”

Pierce: “You know I wasn’t talking to you, please don’t use me as a setup for your pickup lines.”

Veronica: “I love it when you talk about how beautiful I am. I love your face.”

Vivien: “I love your face.”

Chloe: “She knows right? I mean, she has to know.”

Pierce: “Would she still be into it if she knew?”

*giggles from Veronica and Vivien*

Chloe: “It seems pretty on brand for Vivien to fall in love with herself.”

Pierce: “She’s gotta know.”

Chloe: “She doesn’t know, does she?”

Pierce: “No. She definitely doesn’t know. We have to get out in front of this one.”

Chloe: “Where are we gonna go though.”

Partygoer: “Chloe- we’re gonna head out, it’s getting late.”

Chloe: “Are you sure?”

Chloe: “Dustin- you’re famous, and people are dropping like flies. Where should we go.”

Dustin: “Well...I had an idea. We’ve got some star power in this group, so I was thinking, combined, we’re like one really famous person. She’s an actress, you’ve got half the town wearing sunhats in October, he’s probably reviewed it by now. We could probably get into Studio PBP.”

Chloe: “You think so?”

Dustin: “I do.”

Chloe: “They won’t let us in dressed like this, though.”

Pierce: “I don’t want to go to a thrift shop, Chloe. We don’t have five hours for me to DIY anything we could find into something acceptable.”

Chloe: “Hawkeye, this is an uptown Del Solo thrift shop. It’s just gonna be a bunch of shit from last season and this is an emergency!”

Vivien: “It’s a nice place. Chloe and I once got us into a DJ R!DDL3B01 concert when we were in highschool wearing shit we got here.”

Pierce: “What? When did that happen? Where was I?”

Vivien: “Oh you were just being really moody that day and we thought you wouldn’t want to go.”

Chloe: “Don’’t think about that too hard, let’s go!”

Pierce: “Fine.”

Ohhhh yeaaaaaah

Chloe: “We look so dope, you guys. They’re totally gonna let us in.”

Bouncer: “No.”

Chloe: “Oh come ON! Look at us! We look incredible!”

Vivien: “But we’re famous!”

Bouncer: “Not really.”

Dustin: “I’m famous.”

Bouncer: “Sorta.”

Chloe: “Listen here, buddy- I am not about to let this party die when I’m still ready to have fun. You will let us into this fancy fucking bar or so help me, god.”

Bouncer: “Fine! Fine! Go- jesus…”

Pierce: “I cannot believe that that worked.”

Chloe: “Damn.”

Pierce: “We grew up in a really nice house, and this is the fanciest shit I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Chloe: “Right?”

Dustin: “Sorta quiet, though.”

Chloe: “Right?!”

Judith Ward: “Shh!”

Chloe: “Judith Ward just shushed me. I love that, so rebellious.”

Vivien: “I have a plan.”

Veronica: “What is it, baby?”

Vivien: “I’m gonna sing a song. On the stage, and make everybody listen and they’ll be like holy shit who’s that- oh, it’s the actress that played a dead stripper on CSI and Bones.”

Veronica: “That...doesn’t seem like a great idea.”

Vivien: “I know! It’ll be amazing. Your support means everything to me.”

Veronica: “I’m not...supporting you. You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

Vivien: “Wait...what?”

Chloe: “Yikes. Maybe it’ll run it’s course before we have to handle it.”

Pierce: “While it’s going down though…”

Chloe: “Let’s go mingle.”

Pierce: “She’s not with us!”

Judith Ward: “Shhh!”

Pierce: “Oh my god Judith Ward shushed me, what have I become?”

Chloe: “So badass.”

Veronica: “You always do this, Vivien. Everything always has to be about you.’

Vivien: “About me? You’re like, obsessed with yourself!”

Veronica: “Not as obsessed as you are with yourself!”

Vivien: “I don’t want to do this in public, darling, not again. Can’t we have just one good night out? Like we used to?”

Veronica: “Maybe we could if you weren’t always putting on theatrics and stunts!”

Vivien: “My stunts are the only thing keeping this relationship from going stale!”

Judith Ward: “SHUSH!”

Veronica: “Look what you’ve done. Your theatrics have gotten us shushed by Judith Ward, how could you do this to me. We should take a break.”

Vivien: “You want to take a break? Fine? I’m gonna go dance.”

?: “Oh my god- Dustin Broke? How’ve you been, man?”

Dustin: “Dirk Dreamer, my man! I’m great- how the hell are you?”

Dirk: “It’s been pretty dope man, I can’t complain. Why don’t you and your girl come to the VIP room, and we can catch  up.”

Chloe: “We’d love to!”

Dirk: “Pleasantview, man, what a throwback! How’s Brandy?”

Dustin: “She’s dope! I mean...we still live together, but now I own the house. And a lot bigger now.”

Chloe: *yawns*

Dustin: “You all right, babe?”

Chloe: “Yeah it’s just...a little late. This place is a little less fun that I had hoped. Not that this VIP room isn’t amazing I just wanted to keep the momentum goin’ and this is just a little bit…”

Dustin: “Upscale and stuffy?”

Chloe: “Exactly! Like, I made eye contact with Fake Ryan Gosling and Opal’s ghost, which is sick, but other than that...it’s just a guy playing piano and some very expensive drinks. Expensive even for me.

Dirk: “You’ve got a point about the piano, you’d think they could at least get a whole band in here.”

*Voice* “Good evening everyone, I’ll be singing a song tonight.”

Dusitn: “Did...did they hire a band?”

Chloe: “Oh, no.”

Vivien: “aaaAAANNNDDDD IIIIIIIIIEEEIIIIIIIIII wwwIIIILLLLLL ALWAAAAYYYS LOVE YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU”

Dirk: “Yikes, I...take back what I said.”

Chloe: “Oh my god”

Dirk: “Do you know that person?”

Vivien: “I love you so much, Ronnie, please take me back.”

Pierce: “Oh my god, Vivien, stop. You only like her because she looks just like you stop embarrassing us.”

Vivien: “What? She doesn’t look just like m……”

Vivien: “Shit.”

Security: “MA”AM, STEP AWAY FROM THE MICROPHONE. THEY HOST THE OSCARS WITH THAT THING.”

Judith Ward: “SHUT UP!.”

Vivien: “Shh!”

Pierce: “Shh!”

Chloe: “Shh!!”

Partygoer: “Great party, Chloe! G’nite!”

Chloe: “Good night! Thanks for coming!”

Pierce: “So is this when we finally head home?”

Vivien: “Yeah...I just want to curl up somewhere and cry over the mistakes I’ve made that led up to this moment.”

vChloe: “We….can stay out a little longer.”

Pierce: “Yeah, Vivi, we can keep this going for a bit more, let’s see who else is in.”

Dustin: “I’m in.”

Dirk: “I know a great dive we can head to, if you don’t mind me crashing your party.”

Pierce: “What? Chloe? When did you make friends with Dirk Dreamer?”

Chloe: “At the party. Let’s head over there, then.”

Walter: “Can I still come?”

Vivien: “You’re still here? I could’ve sworn you left after the house party.”

Pierce: “No, he got us into the first club, remember?”

Vivien: “I don’t. How’d you manage that?”

Walter: “Oh- I- uh”

Chloe: “Don’t bug him, Vivi. Of course your welcome to come, Radar.”

Walter: “Radar?”

Chloe: “Alright! Hawkeye, Vivi, Dustin, Dirk, Radar, let’s head out.”

3 AM

Pierce: “Okokokok, never have I ever, been pushed in a swimming pool by a Real Housewife.”

Chloe:  “Call me out in front of everybody, Hawkeye. All right, I’ll drink. ”

Chloe: “Never have I never….”

Vivien: “Queue the half hour wait while Chloe thinks of something that she hasn’t done.”

Chloe: “What is this? The roast of Chloe Aristocrat?”

Dirk: “Be proud- you’ve got a very fulfilling life.”

Chloe: “So true. Did I tell you guys about the time that Mortimer Goth took me to Sulani on his yacht?”

Pierce: “I still don’t think that happened.”

Dustin: “I’ve never even seen a yacht before.”

Dirk: “Huh...me neither.”

Walter: “A what?”

Chloe: “I love this song! Let’s dance!”

Walter: “Don’t feel like dancing?”

Vivien: “What? Oh...not really.”

Walter: “Love is oft short lived, but that does not make it less worthy.”

Vivien: “I like that. Especially the fancy wording.”

Walter: “It’s not a quote or anything, but people take it more seriously if they think it is.”

Vivien: “That is so clever, here I was just appreciating the dramatic effect.”

Vivien: “Why aren’t you dancing?”

Walter: “I’m just not very good at it.”

Vivien: “Even if that’s true, it’s not like there’s any paparazzi in a place like this.”

Walter: “Oh I wasn’t worried about...cameras or anything, I just don’t like looking silly.”

Vivien: “Oh yeah. I forgot what it was like before I was famous, like, for normal people.”

Walter: “Yeah...I’m totally not famous.”

Vivien: “That was kind of a weird way to say that.”

Chloe: “Vivi! This is our song! Everybody, clear the floor, Gen Eight is gonna show everybody how former child stars do it!”

Pierce: “Chloe, don’t do this.”

Chloe: “Oh, it’s already done.”

Vivien: “Chloe, no, not in front of all these people.”

Walter: “C’mon, it’s not like there’s paparazzi.”

“Woo!”

Dustin: “That was kind of amazing, you guys. I’m gonna have to hire you guys as backup dancers.”

Pierce: “Don’t put that bait in front of Vivien, she’ll take it and refuse to let go.”

Chloe: “He’s right. She’s like a pirrahna.”

Vivien: “Is anybody else starving?”

Pierce: “Yeeesss, I was waiting for somebody to say something first.”

Walter: “Me too.”

Bartender: “Alright, guys, it’s closing time!”

Chloe: “*Yawn* I know we said just one more spot, but is anybody up for breakfast?”

Dustin: “I’m in.”

Pierce: “There’s some food trucks by our place.”

Dustin: “Dope, because I left my shoes at your place. I’m wearing Pierce’s.”

Pierce: “What? Why?”

Dustin: “I stepped in a puddle on the way here ...and they were really nice.”

5 AM

Pierce: “You wouldn’t think shish kebabs would go down as well at five in the morning.”

Chloe: “But they really do.”

Vivien: “This is the best anything I’ve ever tasted. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Walter: “Didn’t I see you at this food truck at lunch time?”

Vivien: “I woke up at noon. That was breakfast for me.”

Walter: “Heh...ok.”

Dustin: “Gotta admit, Chloe- this was a pretty fun party.”

Pierce: “Yeah, it really was.”

Vivien: “Best night since we moved to San Myushu, most def.”

Dirk: “To Chloe!”

Pierce: “Raise your kebabs!”

Chloe: “Thank you, thank you, I would like to thank my parents, for teaching me never to give up.”

Pierce: “I’m sure they’ll be proud of this application of their teachings.”

Chloe: “This is without a doubt my greatest accomplishment.”

THE NEXT DAY

*snoooore*

Pierce: “Ahh!”

Pierce: “Tiffanor? What the hell is…”

THE DAY AFTER THAT

Vivien: “Is that a note? Dirk Dreamer took me to Sulani for a vacation on the beach :) toodles cuties!

Vivien: “Bye Pierce, I’m going to my first day of my new job!”

Pierce: “Get some medicine at the store on your way back I feel awful.”

Walter: “Hey Vivien, good morning.”

Vivien: “Morning Walter.”

Director: “Vivien! You’re here, this is so exciting, I’d like to introduce you to your stunt double.”

Vivien: “I have a stunt double?! This is amazing!”

Director: “I’d like you to meet Veronica!”

Vivien: “Well sh-”

------

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[insearchofgatherings-blog]

Almost You

One

There was something in your hair on the first day we met.

It’s an interesting peculiarity that I can’t quite recall what it was, but I remember being drawn away from direct eye contact a great many times like some magnetic repulsion was preventing it. I never believed in love at first sight, and the past few years has indeed proved that to me. For all I feel for you now is adoration in its purest form, yet all I thought that day was that you must have been walking through some trees earlier that night, or perhaps had an aesthetic predisposition towards placing imperfections amongst your appearance.

Sometimes I feel like there should have been a defining moment on that night, as Alex so bashfully introduced us, but I took as much notice of you as I did of his many fleeting romantic encounters. The same amount as he no doubt gave to mine. We had a mutual apathy towards each other’s romantic escapades, built from years of disappointing almost-relationships and a long, near-impossible struggle to like or even level with the people we would choose to introduce.

Perhaps I should have taken note of the strange rarity that this was only your second date, and dear Alex often refuses to tell me even the names of his elopees before then, let alone bring them to a social gathering. He tells me that he fears I put them off. I know he fears a lot more.

It’s always dark down there, in The Closet’s subterranean lair that they pass as a music venue. Even more than the absence of windows or breathing space, it’s like they purposefully break lights and remove reflective surfaces to try and hide the parts they haven’t cleaned properly. They’re one of those establishments that use the term dive as if it’s some kind of accolade, perhaps they see the stairs to the basement as a ‘dive’ into some kind of heightened cultural experience. I always knew that Jasmine would put the show on there, though I secretly wished for something better. But for all my complaints about the smell, the dark, the gropers and the bar staff that deny the groping, I seem to have an awful lot of significant emotional experiences in that dark, grimy underground cupboard. Not least the ones with your sister, but I’ll get to those later.

I never thought you were significant. Not on that night, and perhaps not even by the third or fourth nights of your presence. You were like a cancer, creeping in beneath the radar, beginning to take your grip on our lives while we slept, and when we finally realised how far you had climbed under our skins, it was too late. 

I had already forgotten your name by the time we left, but in all honesty, it’s rarer for me to remember. Who?, I responded, when Anna sought for my thoughts on you during our mandatory post-performance pizza. That you hadn’t joined us was probably another sign, but it appears I was immune to signs that night.

Alex’s new date, she continued. Haven’t seen her before.

I had long grown tired of the kinds of analytical discussions of relationships that fill the twilight zone between smalltalk and bigtalk, but Anna almost lived for it. I even began to think this was the only reason she associated with Alex anymore because he was a consistent hive of new gossip. The combination of straight-talking friendliness with a historic struggle of never knowing what he wanted, from life in general as much as relationships, made him a beacon for those with delusions of cracking his code. 

Spooky. I replied. Too cool for him. I at least remember that line distinctly from that night, but little else. I’m not sure where it came from, the idea that you were too cool for him. Perhaps I meant that you were too cool for me?

Did you talk to her at all?

A pause, as I tried to recall what we had even conversed about.

She’s a writer of some kind, like an actual one, not one of those uni students who has a tumblr, Anna continued, unprompted. I bet she’s heard about his reputation for sending girls away in tears and needs some writing inspo. Can’t say he’d make a compelling lead though.

No, I responded, after a pause. Still deep in thought. Anna fired up again, starting off on a rant that I must have filtered. I think I remember her bringing up Jamie as a comparison. Jamie was Anna’s favourite of the long run of flings, but I don’t think there was any apt comparison.

No, I mean I don’t think she knows his rep. I followed. Think she’s new to town. Has an accent at least.

As if that means anything, she fired back. Being incorrect wasn’t Anna’s favourite, and I punched myself for stoking any attempts at an argument. I could have continued, recalling the one thing that Alex had told me – that you’d only been here a month, but I knew that an argument wasn’t worth the bother.

We headed back down, spotting the crowd of vapers and analogue smokers outside the sole door slowly shrink as they were called to the depths by the sub-bass of an arpeggiator. The roof of my mouth was completely numb from the pizza, as is the norm for these sorts of evenings. No time to sit and enjoy. Neither of us bothered to find you or Alex in the crowd. I’m not sure why. Perhaps we had sensed something that we had better stay away from.

I hadn’t seen this new band of Jasmine’s before. I think this was the third or fourth group I’d seen her with, the musical projects coming and going like hair colours. Whatever talent she undoubtedly had was almost always truncated by her reluctance to work through a project, always settling for a few gigs and a few shoddily put-together originals, never to be heard outside of dive bars or rehearsal spaces.

They played a piece that night that I recognised. I sat through the whole song wondering if it was a cover or just Jasmine’s rushed songwriting completely ripping something else off. It was an instrumental, played on two synthesisers and an alto saxophone. Or maybe it was tenor, BK never seemed to bring the same saxophone to any gig, him being the worst of all the scene for bandhopping. The lights in the room had all been turned blue, a deep, aquatic blue with a kind of light filter that made everything feel underwater. As derivative as the music was, I remember noting that you don’t exactly need to be original to get an emotional response. I was immersed in the sounds, all the hundreds of artificial reverbs swarming me and enveloping me like a warm blanket.

It was definitely a cover. Too good to be Jasmine’s, I thought, quite rudely discarding the talents of someone I described as my third-most-talented-associate in the bin. I remember seeing you and Alex during it, and I looked directly at you, probably the only time I did properly that night. Dark room, dark hair, dark lipstick, dark dress. All gothed up and spooky, like so many of Alex’s flings. But you were smiling. A big, lame smile. Nothing spooky or mysterious about it, nothing pretentious or melodramatic. You were tapping along as if you recognised the song too. Like you actually knew what it was, unlike me. Perhaps that’s why you were too cool for me. I always knew more music than people. Not this time.

It was nearly three years before I worked out what it was. Rachel’s Song. Blade Runner. We were watching it at Alex’s flat, in preparation for the sequel. When the melody came in it all flooded back, and I looked across at you. There was that smile. The dorky, nerdy smile. No pretence. No melodrama. I don’t remember watching the film at all that night, from then on all I could watch was you.

[zipgrowth]

Inside ‘Dream Big,’ the Engineering Doc That Wants to Reach Every US School

The Imax documentary “Dream Big” started out with one ambitious goal: Make engineering flashy, appealing and cool.

“The American Society of Civil Engineers came to us and said, ‘We have a problem,’” explains Shaun MacGillivray, an executive producer and president of MacGillivray Freeman, the studio behind the film. “They said, ‘There’s a lack of engineers, and we especially need to inspire more minorities and women.’”

The finished film mixes dramatic visuals of engineering marvels in big cities and remote landscapes, like the Great Wall, with inspiring stories from all over the world. Menzer Pelivan, an engineer who designs buildings in earthquake-prone areas, describes living through the collapse of her Turkish apartment building as a child during a devastating quake. Engineer Avery Bang was recruited to talk about her work building a bridge in Haiti so kids could walk to school. And there’s even an underwater robotics underdog to root for.

Narrated by actor Jeff Bridges, the film has already reached more than three million people in Imax theaters, and MacGillivray estimates another 25 million will eventually tune in (it’s also streaming on Netflix). After the film wrapped, producers decided to get even more ambitious. They now aim to show the film in every single school in the country through a massive outreach program. Along with the DVD, they’re including free engineering lessons and activities for schools to take the learning further.

EdSurge recently caught up with MacGillivray and Mary Jane Dodge, another executive producer and director of theater marketing for MacGillivray Freeman, about the film and what students and teachers can take away. The conversation has been lightly edited for clarity.

EdSurge: What ages or grade levels is the film right for?

The whole idea is to see the film and then teachers will do activities with you, because that's when you learn how fun engineering is—when you actually do it

Mary Jane Dodge

Mary Jane Dodge: The sweet spot is around 9- to 12-year-old kids, or third through seventh grade. But the film also appeals to high school because of the robotics competition and the solar car challenge in the film. Our Girls Night Out program, where girls meet women engineers, was aimed at middle schoolers. To get kids interested in careers in engineering, you have to start early!

At a runtime of about 40 minutes, the film is short for a full-length documentary.

Shaun MacGillivray: The reason why films like this are 40 to 45 minutes is because when they play in an Imax theater, like at a Smithsonian or the American Museum of Natural History in New York, they are typically playing them on the hour, and they are trying to get as many kids as possible in there.

The movie seemed to mix a lot of big ideas with a lot of practical classroom stuff, like making buildings out of popsicle sticks and marshmallows. Was the goal to mix those really flashy big ideas with classroom application?

Dodge: Making this film for kids was one of our top priorities, and we wanted to show that engineering was really fun. The film was the centerpiece of an entire movement where we put together 50 hands-on activities and design challenges, and started several programs with engineers. So the whole idea was to see the film, and the film will get you inspired and motivate you, and then teachers in the classroom or the museums or the engineering societies will do activities with you, because that's when you learn how fun engineering is—when you actually do it.

So the movie is about two years old now. Why are you still putting so much promotional muscle behind it?

MacGillivray: Our first film “To Fly!” still plays at The Smithsonian today. These films play for a long, long time. And many of these movies, the principles and the inspiration are really timeless. When we think about a project and think about working with partners, it's basically how much impact can we have with a specific film and campaign. Our big push right now, as you've heard, is getting into every school across the country.

What are the logistics of that?

Dodge: From the very beginning this was not a one-year plan, this was a multi-year plan. For the first two years, we showed it exclusively in giant screen theaters, and many of those theaters that opened with in 2017 have never taken it off of their schedule because the teachers have responded so positively. “Dream Big” is really a good title for this project, because in the beginning we dreamed, "Could we actually get a DVD in every school in America? And what would that take?”

We have sent the DVD to 75,000 schools. We started that in December and January. And the reason we didn't send it to 100 percent at that time was because the film was still playing in giant screen theaters in some locations, and we wanted to make sure the theaters had access to their audience as well. The remaining 25,000 copies will be sent out in late June, early July, and then we will have reached 100,000 schools.

Our partner ASCE, which are Civil Engineers, started a program with us a year in advance for engineers to adopt a school. There's about 150,000 members of ASCE, but we had all of these other organizations join in too, like mechanical engineers and electrical engineers. They could adopt a school near them and buy the DVD for $5 per school. ASCE also has sections and branches and chapters doing sponsorships too. In Louisiana, the ASCE section bought all of the DVDs for every school in the state. The idea was that kids see the film, and the engineers go to the schools and work with the kids. They do the activities, they do mentoring. Really, the whole idea behind this film is to get kids to want to be an engineer, so having engineers as mentors is really important.

What has the reaction been like?

MacGillivray: For us, we're really proud of it. We did surveys afterwards and 72 percent of kids who watched this film said they were more likely to become an engineer after watching the film. And obviously, you need to run 10-year studies to be able to see if that actually happens, but that's very positive that they're that excited about it afterward.

Dodge: And when we asked the parents, they were even more enthusiastic. It was a higher number: 86 percent of parents thought their kids would go into engineering or hoped they would.

MacGillivray: Yeah, whether that is going to help or not….

Dodge: I know, I know. But it's something that they haven't thought of before, so now they're thinking about it.

Do you think one of the reasons for that interest was because you focused so heavily on architectural engineering, and that's maybe the flashiest, most visual version of engineering?

MacGillivray: There was a reason that we did that. It was because we were working with the civil engineering organization, and so we focused more on kind of big buildings and all of the engineering that went around that. We did focus on sustainability as well.

I think what made kids super excited about it was the emotional storytelling. It's the fact that they got inspired, they connected with the characters, and I think many of them could see themselves doing that, whether that was because the actual characters like Menzer Pelivan or Avery Bang, doing just amazing, cool stuff around the world. Or whether it was because of the kids that were in the movie, doing these fun projects that they can say, “Oh, hey, I could do that.”

Women in engineering was a really big focus of the film. How were women involved in the filmmaking process?

MacGillivray: We've got about 30 to 35 people on the team here, and I'd say at least half of them are women. Mary Jane was the executive producer on the shoot. When we do any of these films, it's a family company, and my sister is on every shoot. My mom is on every shoot, and my dad's on every shoot. I'm on many of the shoots. Honestly, our company couch feels family-oriented in a way.

Can you give an example of the hands-on, curricular resources that are included on that second DVD?

Dodge: In the educator guide, there are 12 lesson plans, and the one for kids in first grade, for example, is called Daylight In a Bottle. Kids learn how you can make light in a plastic bottle without electricity. It’s all simple materials, and then we connect them with videos that show how in developing countries, like in Nepal and some places in Mexico, that's how they get light.

For high school, we didn't divide it by grade, we divided it by topic. There’s physical science, chemistry and physics. In one, you learn how to make a greeting card using LED lights, so you actually create an LED lighting system. We put it around a greeting card so they can do it for Mother's Day or Father's Day or Christmas.

Each one of those 12 activities is really in-depth, because one of the amazing things about the timing of this project is that the Next Generation Science Standards include engineering for the first time as part of the science standards. So all of a sudden, teachers in their curriculum had to teach engineering.

All the materials that we created are tied to the NGSS. In fact, one of the creators of the National Science Standards for Engineering was our advisor, so he helped us a lot on the project. In those 12 educator guides, we actually show from the NGSS which curriculum you're checking off with this activity.

Then, in addition to that, we created a booklet of 50 hands-on engineering activities, and we created 12 original ones that were based on topics in the film. One of the most popular activities is how to design a highway system. If you think about traffic and driving and the highway—that's a real civil engineering problem. But that turned out to be one of the most popular activities. We also have, from the film, an earthquake activity that people can do, as well. They're on our website, too. And all of it was vetted by engineers.

Finally, we designed three design challenges that were a little bit more detailed. These are for museums, because a lot of museums have what they call make-it scapes. They're mostly engineering-oriented, but families as a group go into these little spaces and make something. We have these design challenges, and one of them was how to build an earthquake-safe building.

Teachers have precious little time with students and so much material to cover. Why spend it on this? What's really the takeaway?

Dodge: We’ve made it really simple for teachers. First of all, teachers use the film to inspire kids, so that makes them want to learn. And then, these activities are really simple. Every step along the way, there's written in really short, concise ways, the engineering connection, the science connections. So while the kids are doing the activity, the teacher can read through about five or six facts. So they're learning the engineering principles while the kids are actually doing it.

Inside ‘Dream Big,’ the Engineering Doc That Wants to Reach Every US School published first on https://medium.com/@GetNewDLBusiness