#this is so hard I’ll never be able to teach piano

[lactose-intolerant-piano]

The way I can comfortably sight read requiem reductions and to some level Alban berg but failed to read a RCM prep A piece

[ravennasgf]

LL: More

TW: su!c!de 

A/n: Was listening to More by Halsey when I came up with this 

Being Lady Lesso’s secret lover was hard, but I accepted it for her sake. 

Attending a ball for students and staff and not being able to dance with her hurt a little. Yes we were both Nevers, but she still didn’t want to have our relationship known. 

“So anyone in your life yet?” My best friend Emma asks 

“No, unfortunately,” I say as I see Lesso looking at me with a flash of hurt in her eyes. 

~~ a few days later 

Leo has been ignoring and avoiding me. I decide to talk to her. I knock on her room door. 

“What do you want?” she asks her tone ice-cold

“What did I do wrong Leo…”

“Don’t call me that you have no right after what you said.”

“Is this about the ball? You’re the one who wanted our relationship secret because of your reputation and I have kept that,” 

“Well it seems that you’re more than happy to be single so leave. I have a function to attend with someone,” she says. Hurt and betrayal fill me at how quickly she tossed me aside. 

“So you’re pretending that there was or is nothing between us?”

“You made that clear the other day,”

“Nora…”

“No! get out now,” she shouts. I do so tears falling down my face as I leave the woman I love behind. 

~~~ a week later 

I see her around the school with the new me, she’s very similar to me, and it hurts like hell. I spend the day working the nights drinking myself into oblivion to drown my sorrows. 

Broken beyond repair I take a week off of teaching. I turned to self harm, anti-depressants and alcohol still to numb the pain. 

My dearest Leonora,

I have loved you for the longest time. I still love you and I can’t help it. Somehow I still love you more. I am truly sorry for everything that happened. I’m glad that you have found someone to move on with. I’m sorry for the hurt that I caused you. I’m sorry that the future we talked about won’t happen with me, but I hope your new girlfriend can fulfil it. I wish you nothing but the best. I know that you also hate seeing me every day, so I’m leaving so you no longer have the reminder of me. Again I’m so sorry, I will love you til my dying breath (soon) and wish you all the happiness in the world. I’ll see you on the other side.

Love y/n

I go to the garden and conjure a piano to play and sing as I cry my eyes out. It won’t matter soon I’ll be dead. The pain to much to handle. I start playing More by Halsey https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MLw3JCQSkCU 

I grab the letter out of my pocket and head to Nora’s office. I knock but there’s no answer meaning she’s out. I open the door and place the letter on her desk. I look around at the room seeing all the memories it holds I decide that the sooner I die, the better for me. I head to my room grabbing my razor, whiskey, and two bottles of pills. I then head to the old headmasters tower. It was time. 

~~ 

After ingesting the pills and alcohol and making deep cuts on my wrist crying my eyes out, my eyelids feel heavy. They finally close. 

~~

Lesso’s POV

Walking into my office I see a folded letter on my desk. As I open it and read it I feel overcome with emotion. I feel a little guilty about what happened. I regret not talking it through with her instead I pushed her away. “I will love you til my dying breath (soon)” as I read that line I stopped breathing. Is she planning what I think this implies. No, please no. as I finish reading the letter I feel a part of my die. A pain rips through my heart and I know that I was right in what she was implying. No, she’s gone and it’s all my fault. 

“NO!” I scream out in pain as my heart breaks even more tears falling a million miles an hour down my face. Dovey and Emma run in.

“Lesso? What happened?”

“y/n she’s gone,”

“What?!’ they ask confused

“I’ll explain later we need to find her,” we all run out of my office trying to find her. I check the tower. Upon entering the tower I see her body on the floor, blood pooled around her. Alcohol bottles and pill bottles. I feel my heartbreaking even more. I rush forward and collect her body pulling it close to mine cradling it, as I scream out in pain. I eventually pick her up and carry her into the evers castle. Dovey and Emma see me and rush forward with tears in their eyes. 

I bring her to the infirmary and lay her cold body down. 

“What happened to her to get to this point,” Emma asks

“That may be my fault,” I whisper out

“What did you do?” Dovey asks me angrily. So I explain everything

“You know a true loves kiss can bring her back,” Dovey says. 

“Just give it a go,” Emma pushes. 

“Ok,” I give in. I give her a small kiss on the lips. 

“Lady Lesso?” I hear y/n say hoarsely.

“y/n you’re ok?” I say with relief. 

“Yeah, why are you here shouldn't, you be with your new girlfriend?”

“We’re not together anymore. I need you, and only you just like I love you and only you,”

“You clearly don’t Lesso and that’s fine, but please leave.”

“No please listen.”

“Fine,” she agrees 

“y/n I love you and I know that I said we should keep our relationship secret but instead of talking it out that night I pushed you away, and I regret it with every fibre of my being as I almost lost you. y/n I love you and I want the whole world to know that it’s you that I love, want and need.” I explain desperation evident in my voice along with love. 

“I love you too Lady Lesso,” she says quietly

“Will you be mine again?” I ask 

“Yes but only if we start talking these things out,”

“I promise darling I can’t live without you,” I tell her honestly. She gives me her incredible smile which makes me smile. 

a/n: please give any requests I’m out of ideas

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

The Paradox.

...*yawn*

*It’s late in the evening, and after getting her work and training done for the day, Kaede enters the Club and starts to make her way up the stairs to her temporary room.

*sigh*

Eh...?

...

*Before she can take a step however, Shuichi suddenly rushes over and grabs her hand.

Oh! Uh! Hi Shuichi!

Can you come with me for a second please?

Huh?

...

Um...ok?

Good...thanks.

Woah! Hey!

*Shuichi excitedly drags Kaede towards the backstage area.

Shuichi, what is this? It’s unlike you to be so excited.

Listen I...

There’s something I want to show you. Here, take a seat.

What, here?

*Shuichi indicates to the piano. Kaede sits on the seat and instinctively faces the instrument. Her hands rest on the keys, but she doesn’t play anything.

...

Hey, Shuichi...about earlier...

Kaede.

...!?

*Shuichi raises a finger to halt her.

I...I want you to hear this...

*He suddenly reaches down and picks up a small black case...

But uh...just so you know, I am still learning. I don’t mind if this doesn’t impress you...

*Shuichi opens the case and suddenly pulls out a small navy blue violin. He puts the case down and carefully holds the small instrument.

...

*inhale* *exhale*

*Shuichi begins to gently stroke the strings with the bow and plays a song to the best of his ability.

(Oh my god...)

...

♪ She'd take the world off my shoulders If it was ever hard to move ♪

♪ She'd turn the rain to a rainbow When I was living in the blue ♪

♪ Why then, if she is so perfect Do I still wish that it was you? ♪

♪ Perfect don't mean that it's working So what can I do? ♪

...

♪ When you're out of sight In my mind ♪

♪'Cause sometimes I look in her eyes And that's where I find a glimpse of us And I try to fall for her touch But I'm thinking of the way it was Said I'm fine and said I moved on I'm only here passing time in her arms Hoping I'll find... A glimpse of us ♪

...!

*As Shuichi finishes singing and playing the first verse, Kaede suddenly lets her fingers dance on the piano.

♪ Tell me he savors your glory Does he laugh the way I did? ♪

...!?

♪ Is this a part of your story? One that I had never lived ♪

...!

*Feeling the flow, Shuichi continues playing on the violin along with her piano.

♪ Maybe one day you'll feel lonely And in his eyes, you'll get a glimpse Maybe you'll start slipping slowly And find me again ♪

♪ When you're out of sight♪

♪ In my mind ♪

♪ 'Cause sometimes I look in her eyes And that's where I find a glimpse of us And I try to fall for their touch But I'm thinking of the way it was Said I'm fine and said I moved on I'm only here passing time in her arms Hoping I'll find A glimpse of us...♪

*They trail off and catch their breath.

Phew...

I have so much respect for violin players now that I’m actually learning to be one. Just holding this thing is hard.

Shuichi, this is amazing! When and how did you learn to play so well!?

I’m glad you liked it. To be honest, I’ve been learning since shortly after we first arrived in London.

Ms Datenashi is a master at the violin. When I heard that, I thought about doing a piano/violin duet with you, so I asked her to teach me. She was happy to oblige.

Again, it’s a work in progress, but I think I’m doing well.

...

...

Kaede, listen I’m-

Mmph!

...

*Kaede presses her lips to his, and shuts him up. They stay like that for a few minutes until they pull away, holding each other in their arms.

Hehe...Couldn’t even let me finish, could you?

I’m sorry, you can finish. Not that you need to really.

*sigh* Ok...

Kaede...I’m really sorry...

I shouldn’t have snapped at you and I shouldn’t have said what I said about your training or your piano playing. I know full well how devoted you are to both, and shame on me for berating it.

And I’m sorry I went on a dangerous mission without telling you. I’m sorry I made you worry. I was just...selfish and I missed you.

I’m sorry too Shuichi. Even if you think you were a little selfish, I haven’t really tried to make time for us lately. And I’ve been preparing for a battle that I might not even be able to fight.

Lately I’ve just been...trying to distract myself. I...um...

If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t force you. Just promise me you’ll tell me when you feel like it.

...I will, I promise.

To be honest though...You’re not the only one trying to distract themselves.

I’ve...had a lot of things I need to think about. Mind if I can bend your ear?

What is it?

...

Follow me.

*Shuichi takes Kaede to his room.

Woah...! Uh...What’s this?

*Upon entering, Kaede immediately sees a noticeboard with pins and photos pinned to it, including a lot of Future Foundation documents and pictures of Zetsubou’s members.

So, sweetheart? What’s the latest project?

Yeah, I know how it looks, but let me explain.

Something happened back at Future Foundation HQ, and we just got an encrypted message from Chairman Fujisaki. Mii-Yu deciphered it for us.

I asked Mii-Yu to inform everyone else of the current situation, but I wanted to make sure I told you personally. You’re going to want to hear this.

Sounds ominous...What’s the situation?

It’s not clear, since an official verdict hasn’t been handed down yet, but...They think they’ve discovered the identity of the second Future Foundation spy.

Huh!? Really!? Who is it!?

...Uchui...Uchui Porosen...

Huh...!? What...r-really...?

If I’m not mistaken, you’ve actually worked with him before on a previous case?

Y-Yeah...He helped me infiltrate the Tower when Miu took it over. He wanted to check up on Mona and see if she was ok.

But...he can’t be the spy...! He’s such a nice guy!

Chihiro sent through a whole bunch of information. Apparently, his family has a long history of participating in inhumane experiments. See these photos?

*Shuichi’s noticeboard has photos of the Kamukura Family experiments.

Supposedly, he comes from the line that descended from the man who founded Hope’s Peak Academy, and his father and he were heavily involved in the Hope Cultivation Plan.

So...he’s Izuru Kamukura’s...?

Yep. The original founder’s grandkid has been with us this whole time. But that’s not the information that’s actually relevant to us.

And...what is?

Apparently, when he was confronted, Uchui confessed to something big.

He confessed that he was the one responsible for tearing a hole in reality...and bring you, me and all our friends to this world.

No way...HE did that!?

If that were true, it would also mean Uchui set all of the events in the last few years into motion. I don’t know how it was that his experiment somehow brought our friends back to life, but if he brought all of us through, that would include Tsumugi.

So...he brought Tsumugi here, and she founded Organization Zetsubou...So he’s the core reason for all the tragedy?

...

I’m sure that’s what he’d like us to believe, but I don’t really buy it.

Wait, what?

Maybe it’s true that Uchui did bring Tsumugi to our world. After all, he’s the only person we know that actually is capable of such a thing.

He has more of an understanding of parallel worlds and alternate dimensions than any one of us.

However...The reason why I’ve been so tied up on it is because...there’s too many inconsistencies and specific apparatus that don’t make sense.

Like...what?

Uchui was one of the first people I met when I arrived in this world, besides from Makoto, Hajime and Kuripa, as well as a few others. It was because of him that the Future Foundation were able to confirm that me, Himiko and Maki were from another universe.

...Back then, I brushed it off as me not understanding how it works, but something about the whole thing didn’t feel right. How would Uchui have known I was from another world if I was the first person to ever be transported from one?

And how did he just so happen to have a device that could confirm this?

...Hm...I see where you’re going with this. You implying that Uchui has already brought things from other reality’s before us, right?

As a scientist, testing is the main process. You can’t know if something will work unless you test it.

Maybe he’s brought objects from other worlds, but not people?

That’s what I thought too...But...There’s something else I began to wonder about when hearing the news...

It’s been bothering me for a long long time now, but I can’t quite wrap my head around how it works or why it happened...

Well? Spit it out.

...It’s in relation to the founding of Organization Zetsubou. 

Based on what we know, Tsumugi is both the leader, AND founder, of Zetsubou. But more recently, things have come to light that shows the Organization’s power is far greater than we first thought.

You mean in regards to the scandal with Emilia Feng and Fang Inc.

Precisely. And therein lies my concern.

Collaborating with a tech giant like Feng, tracking down and assembling members such as Tsuchiya and Osone, Koyasunaga, Koime, and even AI programs long thought to be dead like Sannoji and Enoshima’s AI. Not to mention the abundant amount of tech and support they’ve wracked up...Looking at the timeline of the last few years, it seems impossible...

How?

We first got here in the year 2020. If we calculate how long it would have taken Tsumugi to find all her members and build Zetsubou up to what it is today...

It should have taken at least 7 years. Maybe more.

7 years!? But...only 2 years have passed since Zetsubou first made themselves known!

Exactly my point. If we do the math, even if we ignore all her financial dealings with the likes of Fang Inc. and Towa Group, and focus only on how long it took her to find all her members and cohorts and found the Organization...

Tsumugi would have created Organization Zetsubou in under 2 weeks.

That’s impossible! I don’t care how smart Tsumugi is, there’s no way that’s an achievable feat!

It’d be different if you had a reputation, and if people recognized you as a strong leader who they’d want to work for, but Tsumugi’s not from this world and no one knew her before now! There’s absolutely no way Zetsubou could have been created in under 2 weeks!

You’re exactly right. None of it makes any sense. But...once I heard that Uchui had betrayed the Future Foundation, that’s when my mind created a new theory.

An improbable one with little to no evidence, but if it turns out to be true...then things could have been far worse than we thought.

Not to sound like a broken record...What are you talking about?

Like I said already. The realistic amount of time it would have taken for Tsumugi to have gained the strength she and OZ have now is at least 7 years...

What if...that’s exactly how long it took?

...

Shuichi...are you saying that...

Tsumugi Shirogane has been in this universe for 7 years before we showed up...!?

That’s where my logic took me, but even THAT doesn’t make sense!

I don’t know if there was something that happened when I jumped through the wormhole and came here...But I remember very clearly what happened right before I did...

Shuichi: The Ultimate Academy had been destroyed by Keebo. We entered the wormhole right after that event.

We had JUST seen Tsumugi die. And we had just exposed her as the Mastermind and ended the killing game MINUTES before we stepped into the portal. There’s no conceivable way that she COULD have been here for 7 years if she came from the same reality as us.

Then how did you come to that conclusion?

It’s still a very tentative theory, I’ll confess, but the reason why I’m pursuing it, and assuming it could be the case, is because of one major factor.

I don’t understand how the portal works, and I don’t understand parallel worlds and alternate dimensions enough to be able to draw a solid conclusion, which means I can’t write the possibility off.

...

Alright...I get your point...

But then...what do we do?

...The only way I can get an actual answer is to talk to a professional in the medium. And unfortunately, there’s only one I can think of that would actually be able to answer every last one of my questions.

Uchui himself...

That’s right. But...I can’t just up and go back to Japan! I still have things to do here, like look after the rest of the group!

Hngh...Then what do we do?

*SLAM!*

!!?

!!?

...

*The two are suddenly interrupted, as Miu suddenly slams open the door and bursts into Shuichi’s room.

Shuichi! Keebo and I are going back to Japan!

...

...

WHAT!?

[stonesynumber5]

thanks for the tag @mcity-xe & @faye01mcfc 💙💙

Tea, Coffee or Soda?

coke 100%. never drink tea or coffee

Dogs or Cats?

dogs have my heart. but i like all animals so i’m not one of those dog lovers that hates cats

Can you play any instrument?

i used to play the flute for a little bit around 9/10, which isn’t cool at all but basically this music teacher came to our primary school and showed us all the instruments he could teach us to play and my lazy ass was like “that one seems the easiest”. when i got into my pre teens i saved up and brought myself a guitar and teach yourself kit but i failed miserably at that.

update: still very much wish i could play guitar (and piano). maybe i’ll get round to it one day

What’s your zodiac sign?

cancer 🦀

First song lyrics that pops to your mind?

this was hard……and all at once, you were the one, that i’d been waiting for, king of my heart, body and soul

Do you have any tattoos?

yes and i need way more

Favourite place you travelled?

New York Citaaaayyyyyy, the city that never sleeps 🖤

What’s the last movie you watched?

Scream 🔪🩸

Do you have any hobbies?

i like to be creative so i like to make things. i’ve gotten into building lego sets, diamond paintings…

i don’t know really know what classes as a hobby and what doesn’t?

What languages can you speak?

just English. i learnt French and German in school but def am not fluent. I started learning Portuguese at the end of last year/start of this year but fucked up my streak and got out of the habit of learning everyday. I was enjoying being able to understand some things so i should start it back up again

You can hang out with a fictional character for one hour, who do you choose?

probably Iron Man? he seems fun and i would get to try out the suit

Compliment yourself!

oh god………i guess i’m into a lot of different things in different aspects of my life, that don’t make sense or go together when you view it from an outside perspective, and i’m glad i don’t try and fit myself into a box and try and make sense to people? i allow myself to be all over the place and be into different shit? i think some people don’t allow them self to be like that. especially our generation where we’re obsessed with perfection and “aesthetics”

i tag @stonesyy @lc-fics @johnstonessss @johnstonesfc , probably already been tagged but whatever

[popcrone818]

How Could You Know - Luke Morrow

Part One    Series Masterlist   Main Masterlist 

Part one is here baby !! please enjoy and leave feedback.

As I walked out of the Drug Rehab Centre in Oceanside, I was greeted by the sun shining in my face and my sister Camille holding a bouquet of flowers, her olive skin shining in the heat of the California sun.

“Its good to have you back, I've missed you so much.” She pulled me into a bone crushing hug before she helped me load my bags in the trunk of her beat up old car.

“I’ve missed you too. It’s been so long since I've seen the outside world.” We hopped into the cab of her car as she handed me the flowers she had gotten me.

“It really has been such a long time,” she pulled out of the parking lot and headed in the direction of her house on the beach. Camille was a hard-working bartender and business owner. She owns her own dive bar with the help of her business partner Billy.  With her income she was able to afford a lavish home with beach views.

Once we pulled up, she grabbed my bags and unlocked her front door for me to follow her in.

“So, I do have to work tonight, but after the girls have finished on stage, you’ll have me all night long. We can have a few drinks and then get food on our way home and watch crappy movies.” I nodded at her as she showed me the room that she had converted for me to live in. She nodded as I sat on the bed in the centre of the room.

I watched as she backed out of the room. I looked around at my new room, everything seemed new, and I didn’t know how to take it all in. I had been in rehab for the last 12 months everything was so different for me now. I had been sober for a year now no more drugs running through my veins. Camille and I had lost our mother 6 months ago and I couldn’t even get a day pass to attend her funeral. I pulled out a photo frame from my bag. In the picture two little girls smiled up at me with an older woman behind the girls. My beautiful mother was the one who made me get help. She was the reason that I pushed myself to get better so I could come home to her. And now I’ll never be able to see her beautiful smile again. I watched a small tear drip onto the frame as I placed it on the side table and started to unpack my bag.

An hour later Camille popped her head in to see how I was going. I was sitting on the bed with a book in my hands and looked up.

“You ready to head out?” I nodded and pulled on my leather jacket as I followed her out the door. I noticed the bar was already fairly full when we walked in, and I pulled my jacket tighter around my body. Camille squeezed my shoulder before heading behind the bar. I took a seat at the bar and she handed me a glass of coke. I spun around to watch band play. The lead singer was Cassie Salazar, she used to babysit me and my best friend Frankie Mabuthia, I watched fondly as she took over the stage, she was going to be big one day. She used to teach me piano when she would babysit me, I don’t play anymore but I wish I did and I wish I still could. I twirled the straw in my drink as Billy pulled the cords out of amp effectively shutting off the mic as Cassie was introducing the band. She and Nora, the other waitress, made their way over to me and the bar.

“Omg! Callie! Your back? When did you get back?” Cassie pulled up off my seat and into a crushing hug.

“I got out today, Cam had to work so you could rock the stage, then were going to get greasy food and watch crappy movies when we get home.” I waved to Nora as Cassie tied her apron around her waist.

“Cassie, your favourite people are here.” Nora nodded to the group of Marines that just walked into the bar. I rolled me eyes a long with Cassie as she and Nora made their way over to get their orders. I looked back down at my drink waiting for Cam to come out from the back so we could get on with this girls night we had planned.

“Cal! Get your ass over here.” I looked up at my name and noticed Cassie standing with the Marines gesturing me over to them. I groaned but got off my seat leaving my drink and walked the few steps to the group. Cassie was talking animatedly to a dark-skinned man with a buzz cut, as I approached he turned around and I jumped into his arms. His arms wound around my back as my legs wrapped around his hips. I held him close tears brimming my eyes.

“It’s so good to see you too Ope.” I pulled away from him and jumped down suddenly remembering we weren’t the only ones here. Frankie pulled me to his side as he gestured around to the boys. “These are the guys, were shipping off to Iraq in two weeks.”  

“Since when have you been a Marine?” I asked him as I punched his shoulder.

“6 months, after your, after everything I wanted to go out and do something, be someone other than just another taxpayer. We’ve been in training ever since. You look good, it helped you a lot.” I nodded and looked down, being reminded of where I had been and what I had missed.  “Guys, this is Calliope, my very best friend in the whole world. Cassie used to babysit us.” I watched as Cassie blushed and looked around at the other guys. My eyes followed hers and my heart leapt into my throat. I pushed Frankie away and took a step back. It felt like I had seen a ghost, a ghost of my past I was hoping to forget. My hands started to shake as I continued to back up. Johno’s face flew through my mind and as I felt the cold the concrete of the bar on my knees I felt a soft pair of large hands gently take hold of my shoulders.

“Callie, hold your breath, your having a panic attack.” His sweet deep voice floated through my ears, the breakup of music to hear his voice helped bring me back from my panic. My green eyes flicked up to his hazel ones, tears were freely running down my face now. I looked over his shoulder at his Marine buddies. I noticed Frankie was standing right behind Luke. His expression one of realisation. I looked back at Luke willing my tears to stop but looking at him just brought back memories, memories I had tried so hard to forget, to push away. The way he made me feel in the last year or two before he went away. And he was here sober as well by the looks of things. Luke helped me up off the ground and helped me walk back over to the others. Cassie had brought over drinks for everyone before one of the bigger Marines spoke up.

“So, were good enough to save your ass but not good enough to touch it?” I watched as she walked away shaking her head. Luke handed me to Frankie and made to follow Cassie. I felt something deep in the pit of my stomach wake up before I turned my head back to Frankie and the guys. I wiped away my tears and looked at each one of them. Without Luke near me it was easier to not break down.

“I need names for whose ass I'm kicking if this one comes home injured.” I joked poking franking in the chest. Camille showed up and Frankie left me to say hello to my sister.

The blonde guy to my left who looked no older than 20 spoke up first.

“Brandon.”

“Armando.” The who made the ass comment. I nodded and took a seat at the table.

“Look you two better watch those two for me, if you come home and they don’t there will be hell to pay and I can promise you no matter what kind of training you’ve had you will not get away.” I threatened as I got closer to them. They swallowed loudly before nodding as Luke, Frankie and my sister all walked back up to us.

“You ready to get out of here?” Cam asked me, I nodded and waved at the boys as I followed my sister out.

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Carlisle x blind/mute reader

a simple touch💅

A/n: hello it’s been a while since I’ve written anything so, I decided to pick up my inspiration again. 

Synopsis: a blind and mute y/n meets doctor Carlisle, she had been in a accident for quit a while and lost her parents. Carlisle had awoken y/n’s passion.

word count: 715

warning: none

----

I wasn’t born this way; I would say it was by accident although it’s hard to say. I couldn’t see, nor could I speak, it was hard to know whom was in front of me. Relying on voices was all I could do; I haven’t heard my parent’s for so long. I stayed in my room; I never leave nor step outside. I heard many voices pass by, sometimes they were interesting to listen to, other times not so much. I felt the chair beneath me, the rim of the arm piece felt wooden and stiff.

My hands feel around the rim of the chair to the window sill’s brim. I try to force myself to stand but to no avail, my motivation was gone, all of it. I was a sitting duck, a duck that couldn’t see nor speak just stuck in this room with no motivation to move.

A door from my room creaks open, a voice echo’s through the end of my room. “Hello y/n, I’ll be your doctor today” the voice was calm and sweet, he had no sign of aggression. My hand slowly reaches up to feel his face, the man’s skin was cold, like Ice cold. I pull my hand away as he apologized “Sorry it’s freezing outside” the nurses were whispering, gossiping about the man’s handsome features. “You have quite an extraordinary case” he lifts my shirt up, something cold touches my chest. I assumed it was a stethoscope “Your very healthy y/n” he whispered, “Isn’t he handsome” the nurse fawned.

I couldn’t see the man; I could only feel his features although one question lingered in my mind. “Was skin supposed to feel this cold?” I can recall the nurses including my own were somewhat warm. I suppose it would make sense since it must’ve been snowing outside “I would say she’s fine” he smiled. I wanted to feel his skin once more, my fingers slightly touched his hand.

“His skin is so…cold how can that be?” I couldn’t speak out to the nurses about the weird feeling, although they would’ve ignored me anyways since they fawned over the man. “I can take it from here” he muttered to the nurses and shut the door. “Now y/n, I heard you don’t exactly go out much” I wasn’t exactly going to signal anything “I see you have a nice piano, a gift from your parents I assume”.

I haven’t heard that word for so long, my father used to teach me piano. We would sit in the living room and play while mother watched, I was rather good at it despite not being able to see. It was the only source of life I had, I relied on the sound and feel. I could remember every night; I would play the keys to the sound of the song. Sometimes I would gather an audience at parties, my fingers move to the rhythm of the keys.

All my memories were played on that instrument, however since the passing of my parents I lost the will to play.

I pointed to the piano “You want to play?” the man asked. It had been so long, I need life, I need a purpose, I want to play my pain away. I could feel the man help me to the piano’s chair, my fingers lingered over the keys. I get my hands in position, I played the first key soon after my other fingers started to follow. I followed the rhythm; my heart was racing, and my mind boomed with inspiration.

My expression changed, I soon found myself smiling although to the man, I must’ve looked insane. My fingers remembered every key, I found myself feeling alive again.

The sound of the song began to slow down, I stopped playing with my fingers lacing it’s final position. “That was brilliant” the man spoke softly; he came up close behind me and touched my hand “You truly have a talent y/n”.

I stand up from the chair and bowed as the man clapped.

For the first time I felt alive, alive to play with a purpose again, I can show the world how I feel. I may be blind and unable to speak.

However, I was alive, I could play with a purpose.

one-shot requests: open

[schneesisterss]

I have Cassandra Dimitrescu brain rot and it literally Won’t Leave Me Alone so here are some headcannons:

she’s mean as FUCK bc she doesn’t know how to deal with her emotions in a healthy way

very mean to her sisters too but like... (affectionate)

also she’s the only one that can bully them, if anyone other than herself even LOOKS at them funny, that person will definitely go missing

“nobody bullies my siblings, except for me”

has Protective Older Sister vibes even though she’s not the oldest and is extremely protective of her family

particularly when it comes to Daniela. Cassandra has like a sixth sense where she can tell whenever her younger sister is in danger and goes RUNNIN to check on her.

Cassandra, weapon drawn: “DANI WHATS WRONG ARE YOU OK??”

Daniela, swinging from the ceiling by her foot: “Oh, hello sister. It seems I have stepped on my own trap.”

Cass, exhausted, pinching the bridge of her nose: “Daniela. What the fuck.”

Cassandra gets her down and smacks her on the back of the head (but not before subtly checking her for injuries)

she has a very hard time opening up to people bc she feels weak when she does and she HATES feeling weak

the only person she has ever cried in front of is their mother

and speaking of Alcina, Cassandra definitely gets her protectiveness from her mother. those two turn into a pair of rage monsters whenever someone they care about gets hurt.

one time Bela got severely injured by a lycan and Cassandra was like: “Those stupid mutts, i’ll kill them all, I swear!” and moves to leave but her mother stops her, “Hold on daughter, it’s quite rude of you not to extend the invitation.” and they both leave, eyes completely black with rage and murder. Daniela stays with Bela but waves them off happily in the background. “See you soon! Bring me back a lycan heart!”

does not know how to deal with her anger and sometimes has to punch the brick walls in the basement just to release some of the energy

her knuckles are almost always cut up and bruised bc of this

Alcina has walked in on more than one of her outbursts. She takes her daughters arms so she stops punching the walls, and pulls her into her chest. Cassandras breathing is erratic and she’s shaking violently with rage.

“Shhh my love, breathe.” Cassandra exhales in a way that Alcina can’t tell if she’s crying or seething. “What’s happened?”

Cassandras breathing speeds up through gritted teeth and she pulls against her mother, as if trying to get back to the wall. “I d-didn’t know what else to do.” her voice is hard like she was stating a fact.

Alcina strokes her pinky finger down her daughters nose, a trick that’s always worked for keeping her angriest at child at bay, and holds her there until she’s calmed down.

Afterwards, they don’t talk about it. Alcina knows Cassandra is already too embarrassed so she only wraps up her knuckles and says, “I think I heard Daniela call out for you a little bit ago, she had that tone of voice she gets whenever she’s in over her head.”

Cassandra just scoffs, “She’s just an idiot.” but moves immediately so go check on her younger sibling. She stops just before she’s out the door, “Mother I....” Alcina sees the hidden gratitude in her daughters eyes. “I know, dear. Go.” And her middle child nods and bursts into a cloud of bugs.

so.... there’s that.

I may be projecting but who knows.

ANYWAY

can throw a Wicked punch

very competitive and a sore loser

her competitiveness comes out the most when Bela is involved

Cassandra thinks Bela is their mothers favorite and that creates a lot of tension between the two of them bc Cassandra low key looks up to Bela (but will never tell her that) and wants to please mother just like she does. She feels the anger under her skin whenever their mother praises Bela instead of her

(Cassandra craves praise just as much as Bela but will NEVER show how the lack of it effects her)

Mean Lesbian™️

so, so touch starved

when anyone outside of her mother or sisters touch her softly she snaps bc a) she’s not used to it and b) she get filled with complicated and confusing emotions that she doesn’t know what to do with

quickest to yell at a maiden whenever they mess up

when she’s in a good mood she can actually be very playful and teasing (“rawr! >:D”)

hums to herself when she’s bored and sometimes (rarely) sings when Bela is playing the piano

the best at makeup out of the three daughters

Daniela always begs her to do her make up for her and Cassandra just pretends to be annoyed and does it anyway (she secretly loves it)

Bela also tentatively asked one time and Cassandra was shocked because Bela never asks for favors

they sit in silence while she applies Belas makeup but eventually asks “Why ask me to do this now? There had been plenty of other opportunities before.” her voice comes out more defensive than she wanted it too, but she leaves it be.

Bela studies her with calculating and knowing eyes before looking away and opening her mouth “You love doing this. I can tell.” Cass stops moving her hand. “I see the proud look on your face when Dani runs to show Mother your work. I just...” Bela shrugs, “want to be a part of that too. For you.” She glances back to her dark haired sister and shifts in her seat.

Cassandra didn’t know how to react, let alone respond. The lump in her throat was wide and pushed against her windpipe. Her and Bela had never really gotten along, but hearing this from her older sister felt like a small weight was lifted from her shoulders. It felt like acceptance. She cleared her throat and gently grabbed her sisters chin to pull it back into place. “Well maybe if you stopped squirming, i’d be able to get it done faster.”

Bela shoots her a very small, understanding smile, it was more of a smirk really, but it got the point across. I love you. No matter what. and Cassandra felt like she could finally breathe.

(I love sibling dynamics leave me alone)

claims she’s a top, is actually a switch

impatient as hell

Smooth Talker

her ability to talk her and her sisters out of sketchy situations has saved their asses more than once

“Hey Cassandra, would you punch Uncle Heisenberg in the face for $100?”

“I’d roundhouse kick him in the face for free.”

cue Alcina spitting up her wine.

probably swears the most too lol

*stubs toe* “Son of a mother fucking bitch that shit HURT.” Alcina: *raises eyebrow* “Well I certainly didn’t teach her that vile language.... Heisenberg.” Heisenberg: ......

knows how to wield a butterfly knife like a complete badass

Alcina: “CASSSANDRRAAA”

Cassandra: *instant fear*

uhhhh that’s it. did I go overboard? probaby. do I care? absolutely not and i’ll most likely be doing this again very soon lmaooo.

also p.s. send me more headcannon requests for Cassandra and i’ll answer them!

[beels-burger-babe]

Waiting in the Wings

***Happy Birthday Week Luke! This is a fluffy one. I don't get to write Simeon and Luke often, so this was interesting to sort of experiment with. I hope you guys enjoy! *** Summary: A talent show is being held at RAD; knowing the vocal talents of a certain young angel, you encourage Luke to join. Only Luke doesn't seem too fond of the idea. Together, you and Simeon do your best to give Luke the courage to shine.

The doors to Purgatory Hall slammed open as you raced inside with a blue flyer clenched in your hand. You rushed into the kitchen where you knew you would find your target. Luke, as expected, stood there is a light blue apron, whisking some kind of batter in a bowl. You excitedly waved the flyer in Luke's face. "Did you see this?! There's going to be a talent show?"

Luke squeaked at your sudden appearance and almost dropped the bowl. He took a moment to set it on the counter and grumbled something under his breath before taking the paper from your hands. You watched eagerly as his eyes scanned the page. He gasped and looked up at you in excitement. "RAD is hosting a talent show?! That's so cool! I wonder if Simeon's going to enter? He could probably read a poem he wrote, or act out one of his monologues," a tender look of admiration spilled into Luke's expression as he looked at the flyer. He shook his head and looked over at you. "What about you MC? Are you entering?" You chuckled and shook your head. "No. It's not really my thing. But I know someone with an incredible voice that would blow the rest of the competition out of the water!"

You thought that your words made it quite obvious that you were talking about Luke. You had first heard him sing months ago when Asmodeus dragged you to a tea party that he had been invited to by Simeon and Luke had performed for the three of you and Barbatos. His voice was truly the work of angels and was unlike anything you had ever heard before. It was remarkable to think that such a large talent could fit inside his small body.

Evidently, you weren't obvious enough.

Luke's eyes got even wider and he bounced slightly in excitement. "That's amazing! Who is it? You should definitely get them to enter! I'd love to hear them sing. Maybe they could teach me a couple of things." You smirked at his obliviousness and light-heartedly pushed the young angel. "Well, it'll be sort of hard for you to teach yourself what you already know."

Luke blinked at you several times, and you could practically see the math equations floating around his head. As he had his light bulb moment, his face paled and Luke quickly shook his head. "No! Absolutely not! I am not doing it!" "What aren't you doing?" The two of you whipped around to see Simeon watching the two of you in amusement. Your heart fluttered at the mere sight of him.

This, unfortunately, wasn't new. Although your feelings for Simeon weren't something that was apparent right away, they had grown more and more as you spent more time together. There was no denying the angel was handsome, however, there was so much more to him than that. He was intelligent and creative, able to outwit even some of the brothers with ease. He was incredibly compassionate and open-minded about the creatures in the Devildom. In one word, Simeon was bright. He radiated joy and peace where ever he went. You didn't know if it was an effect of being an angel or if it was who he truly was, but regardless, it was slowly but surely winning over your heart. You smiled at him and handed him the flyer. "I was telling Luke how I think that he should sing in the upcoming talent show." Simeon grinned widely at his charge, "Oh, that sounds like a wonderful idea! You have an incredible vo-"

"NO!" You both looked at Luke in shock. He didn't lash out often unless it was at one of the brothers. He most certainly never raised his voice at Simeon. Yet here he stood with his eyes screwed shut and hands balled into fists as they shook; whether they shook with anger or something else, you weren't sure. He scowled at both of you. "I'm not going to sing for a bunch of filthy demons on a stage in f-front of hundreds of students! Are you insane?" Simeon and you exchanged glances of concern. Simeon moved closer to his charge and placed a hand on his shoulder; like a parent trying to soothe their child. "Luke, if you really don't want to do it, that's okay. No one will force you. But I have to ask...Is the reason you don't want to perform because you have stage fright?" Luke blushed and looked away. "N-No! I don't have stage fright! I-I just don't want to waste my celestial talents on these demonic scum!"

He was clearly lying. Yes, he was upset, but behind that anger, you could see a small trace of sadness; as though his mind, which filled him with fear of the audience's judgement, and his heart, which yearned to sing for all to hear, were at war.

If the angel you had come to know as a brother wanted to perform, that god damn it, you were going to make sure he would be able to perform! "Well, what if I was there with you?" You asked in genuine curiosity. His head snapped up to look at you. "B-But you said it's not your thing?" You tried not to smile at his concern for you, and instead casually shrugged it off. "I could stand in the wings and be right there cheering you on. I could also help you practice and get ready; that way you feel more confident about it." Simeon nodded and patted Luke's hat. "You wouldn't be doing this alone. MC and I would be right by your side if this is something that interests you. I'm sure Barbatos would love to see you perform. MC and I would certainly enjoy it." Luke shifted from foot to foot as he thought about it. The room held its breath as you waited for his decision to be revealed. He glanced over at you nervously. "You'll be right there?" Your chest warmed as you were momentarily reminded of just how young Luke really is. You gently squeezed his shoulder and nodded. "I won't leave you for even a second." Luke let out a big breath before a gleam of determination filled his eyes and he balled his fists. "Okay! I'll do it! I'll sing at the show!" You smiled brightly in silent victory as Simeon laughed and hugged Luke. "Wonderful! Looks like the two of us have our work cut for us! When would you like to begin preparing?" "Now!" Luke took off out of the room, "I know the perfect song! I have the sheet music in my room! I'll be right back!" Simeon chuckled as Luke vanished from sight in a white and blue blur and looked over at you. There was a shimmer of fondness and affection in his eyes that caused your breath to catch in your throat.

"Thank you for talking him into this. He truly does enjoy singing, and I think he would've regretted it if he didn't join. He's very fond of you," Simeon's voice was as soft as the clouds that he had descended from. You scratched the back of your neck and awkwardly tried to brush off his thanks. "It's nothing. Luke means a lot to me too. He's like a little brother, you know?" If possible, his expression became even more tender as he looked deep into your eyes and gave you the most gentle smile. "Yes. I suppose I do."

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, before you noticed Simeon shift a little. You wouldn't quite say it was an action of discomfort but there was clearly something on his mind.

"Penny for your thoughts?" You asked with a reassuring smile.

Simeon, much to your surprise, blushed. "I was just thinking. I suppose with you aiding us, you'll be spending more time here at Purgatory Hall, will you not?"

You blinked a couple of times at the question. You supposed it was true. Within the next two weeks leading up to the talent show, you would probably be spending the majority of your time here with Luke, and as a result, with Simeon as well. You nodded in response to the question as you felt your own cheeks grow warm.

Simeon's twinkled as his expression lit up. "It will be lovely getting to spend more time with you. You-"

Before Simeon could say much more, Luke burst back into the room waving a stack of papers.

"S-So this is what I'm thinking. I have options, but I don't know which ones to choose!" He paused as he picked up on the obvious energy change in the room and frowned. "What's going on in here?" Simeon chuckled and leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Nothing at all. Now, you mentioned you had options?" Luke took the bait easily and began excitedly explaining each of his song selections. Throughout the next two weeks, you and Simeon worked together to help get Luke in tiptop shape to perform. You ran vocal scales with him as Simeon played the notes on the piano. You helped him memorize the lyrics, while Simeon aided him in getting the melody and key right. Using your influence with Diavolo and the brothers, you were even able to get him into the theatre that the show would be hosted at, and gave him the opportunity to practice on stage while in advance. During this time you found yourself growing closer and closer with Simeon. The two of you would exchange secret smiles with one another when you thought Luke wasn't looking. You found yourself more aware of his presence and his notable attention towards you. You would glance over at him, only to find he was already looking at you. Simeon would frequently put his hand on your shoulder or ruffle your hair. The actions always left you flustered, which simply made him smile even more.

Luke wasn't oblivious to the budding romance between the two of you. He noticed all too easily what was happening and instantly approved. After all, it was much better that you be courted by a gentleman such as Simeon than one of those fiendish brothers.

So he decided to do his part in aiding the matter. He often made up excuses in the middle of practice that would leave the two of you alone in a room. He always made sure you two sat down beside each other. Luke would come up with clever little things that "Simeon needed to do," just after practice ended and would always turn to you immediately after insisting that you help.

If either you or Simeon noticed what he was doing, neither of you mentioned it.

The two of you may have started this as a mission to help Luke feel comfortable on stage, but Luke quickly turned it into a mission to get his two favourite people together.

Time flew by, and before anyone could blink, the day of the show had finally arrived.

The theatre was elegantly decorated with red and gold streamers hanging on the balconies and bouquets of roses lining the aisles.

Backstage, dozens of performers anxiously fretted about, running over their talents one last time before their big moment in the spotlight. Simeon had performed a romantic monologue earlier in the evening. As he spoke, you couldn't help bet notice that his gaze would continuously fall onto you; something that made Luke beam with joy. Since then another handful of performers had gone up, Luke was next. The angel stood between you and Simeon in the wings, as he nervously twisted his hat in his hands. "I-I-I can't do this. I change my mind. I'm not gonna do it," he tried to turn and flee, but you quickly caught him.

"Woah, woah, woah. Easy there, Luke. You worked so hard on this. You can't just back out now!" Your heart broke as you felt just how badly the poor boy was shaking. You knelt down in front of him and placed your hands on his shoulders as you looked deeply into his eyes. "Luke, it's going to be okay. You've practiced day and night for this. You're going to blow the socks off of everyone out there. Simeon and I will be right here with you the entire performance."

Luke sniffed and wiped at his eyes. "Promise? You'll be here when I finish?" Simeon came up behind you and placed a hand on your back as he knelt down beside you. "We aren't going anywhere."

Luke smiled faintly at the sight of the two of you so close and nodded. "O-Okay. I suppose I can do it then."

You pulled Luke into a hug and held him tightly. "You've got this Luke. Go show them all what the Celestial realm is really made of!"

Luke hugged you back as his name was called out by the emcee. With a nervous smile, he put his hat back on and walked out onto the stage. You held your breath as he approached the mic. What if something went wrong? What if the mic didn't work? What if the audience was mean? A hand wrapped around your own and gave it a gentle squeeze. You looked over to see Simeon holding onto your hand. He grinned at you and brought your hand to his lips, delicately kissing your skin. "Have faith, MC. Everything is going to be fine." You weren't sure if it was the heat from the spotlights or the number of people in the room, but you felt like you were going to melt. You nodded and squeezed his hand in return as the music began. Just as expected, Luke was absolutely incredible. He sang with all the glory of the heavens. As his voice filled the theatre, you could've sworn that the lights shone just a little bit brighter. There wasn't a dry eye in sight; no one could deny the beauty in his talent.

Once he took his final bows, he practically sprinted back to the two of you where he was immediately scooped up into the arms of a proud Simeon. "That was incredible Luke! Truly a remarkable performance!"

Luke laughed and hugged his mentor back. "You guys were right! After I started singing, it wasn't scary at all! Thank you so much for helping me do this." You fondly ruffled Luke's hair and beamed at him. "All we did was give you the confidence to go out there. You did everything else yourself."

Luke's chest puffed out in some well-earned pride as he soaked in the praise from the two of you.

Simeon finally let him go and smiled down at him. "Now, what do you say we go celebrate? I have reservations for the three of us at Restaurante Six."

Luke's eyes widened, and you could practically see the scheming thoughts cycle through his brain. The young angel let out a dramatic yawn as he stretched. "You know performing really tired me out. I think I'll head home with Solomon. It'd be a shame for that reservation to go to waste though; you two should go together."

You blinked at Luke in shock, as a knowing smirk climbed onto Simeon's face. He turned to you with coy, yet loving, eyes and held out his hand. "Well, what do you say, MC? Care to accompany me to dinner this evening?"

You gaped at him for a second, as Luke watched the interaction in excitement. You stumbled upon your words for a second before finally getting them out. "I-I, um, yes! Yes. I would l-love that."

"YES!" The two of you quickly looked over at Luke as he jumped around in celebration. Seeing that he was caught, he froze before chuckling nervously and scratching the back of his neck. "I-I mean, bummer that I got join you two. Have a good night!" Just like that, Luke took off to go find Solomon.

You sighed and shook your head. "He's a trouble maker."

Simeon laughed and took your hand into his and he pulled you close to him. "Perhaps, but if the result of his mischief allows me to spend more time with you, then I, for one, am grateful," he kissed the top of your hands once more and offered out his arm to you. "Shall we?"

Your heart fluttered as you took his arm and allowed him to escort you out of the theatre and into what promised to be a memorable evening.

***This was a process for sure, but I think I'm happy with how it turned out! Thank you everyone for reading and supporting me and HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SON, LUKE!!!!***

Taglist: @thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @pebblesgengar @victoireshaven @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @obeys-world @poly-bi-mf @armycandy10 @burrixino

[malfoysstilinski]

girl in the mirror pt2 | DRACO MALFOY

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Draco Malfoy x Muggle!Reader

SUMMARY: part two of girl in the mirror. draco meets his soulmate for the first time. she’s pretty cool for a muggle, but reveals something that has him heading back to hogwarts a little less than happy. 

WARNINGS: none i think?  

A/N: i dont think americans have houses and i assume most of my readers are american,, so in case its confusing obviously theyre like harry potter houses, but jk rowling made it ten times more dramatic and a main part of her story. we dont really care about houses irl. 

Explaining to you that Draco was a wizard was one of the most frustrating and hardest things the blond boy had ever had to do. Only hours later were you starting to reluctantly believe that he was telling the truth. He’d been reluctant to tell you, but since you were his soulmate, you were allowed to know. You had the right. 

The pair of you hadn’t even realised how much time had gone by, sat on your bed as you stare at him unsurely. 

“You look as though you still don’t believe me,” Draco says. “I’ve shown you my wand.”

“Yes, but you’ve not shown me any real magic, have you?” You raise an eyebrow, folding your arms across your chest. 

“I told you, I have to wait a few months ‘till I’m seventeen,” Draco reminds you with a roll of the eyes. “Then I’ll show you something.”

You sigh, not wanting to believe him but having a funny feeling that he was telling the truth. I mean, how else could you explain the fact that he had literally fallen through your mirror? 

“So... We’re soulmates,” you repeat from earlier, before the two of you had fought over whether or not Draco was really a wizard. 

“Yeah,” Draco whispers with a nod. “You know what that is, right?”

“I guess,” you mumble, hugging your arms closer to yourself. “But why is your soulmate not... magic as well?”

Draco shrugs. “Happens sometimes,” he says. “Never ever to a Malfoy...” He looks a little paler as he says so. “But I suppose there’s a first for everything.”

You wonder why it’s a big deal for a member of his family to be put with ‘a Muggle’ as he had called you before. 

“Enough about me,” Draco claps his hands together when he sees the clogs in your brain turning. “Let me find out about you. Please. I’ve been wondering about you since the day I turned thirteen.”

“There’s not much to say,” you sigh. “I guess I just go to school... come home... homework... maybe hang out with friends sometimes.” 

Draco seems interested despite your negative mood, sitting up straighter with an eager look behind his silver eyes and an encouraging small smile on his face.

 He looks odd sat on your bed. He truly does look like some sort of magical being with his pale features and icy hair, and the black suit and turtleneck and polished shoes make him look like he belongs truly where he says he’s from-- a castle or something. Not your bedroom that screams twenty-first century teenage girl.  

“Well, tell me about school,” Draco suggests, glancing you over. “Your tie is red. Is that your house?”

You glance down with a frown, pulling at your tie. “Hm? Oh, no. I’m in Austen. The yellow house.”

Draco frowns. “Is that good or bad?”

You frown back, raising a brow at him. “I mean... we won the most house points last year? Not really a big deal. Oh, and we won house games, like, two years in a row.”

“Not a big deal?” Draco scoffs. “Well done, Y/N! That is a great deal.”

You stare at him like he’s grown two heads. “Thanks? I’m assuming houses are a big deal at your school?”

“Well, of course,” he says rather arrogantly. “I’m a Slytherin. How were you sorted into your house? Do you take personality quizzes in the Muggle world?”

“No,” you giggle slightly and Draco’s heart skips a beat at the sound. “You just get put into whatever house depending on what tutor group you’re in. I switched from green to yellow half way through secondary school because our tutor group got full.”

Draco had never looked so confused. He wonders how Muggles are even motivated to do well when their house points don’t even really mean anything to them. 

He knows a few things about Muggles-- he knows they definitely do not play Qudditch on flying brooms and would much rather play football. He guesses their house games are like that. 

“My tie’s red because I’m a prefect,” you say and reach into your bedside drawer, producing a red badge with ‘prefect’ written in gold on it. 

Draco’s grin brightens, taking it from you as he scans it over. “Oh, they look just like ours!”

You laugh at his eagerness. “That’s good.”

There’s a moment of silence and Draco peers at all of the records placed on your wall. He stands and moved to look at some of the vinyl covers, pointing at your The Neighbourhood one, releasing a huff of air past his nose and glancing over his shoulder back at you. 

“You listen to this one all the time,” Draco states. “I like the one about jumper weather or something.”

You laugh and nod. “Sweater Weather. It’s a good song...” You trail off. “You know, I don’t really understand your music. You only seem to listen to classical.” 

“That’s me,” Draco says, scratching the back of his neck. “Playing the piano. I don’t- I don’t really listen to music much. I never really have to when you listen to it 24/7 anyway.”

You look away with a small blush on your face, bashful. “Sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Draco moves to sit beside you on your bed. “I love it, actually. It makes assemblies less boring and sleeping in a dorm far more bearable.” 

“I’m glad,” you say. “Do you want to listen to something now?”

Draco’s breath hitches because it’s all he’s ever wanted. He nods slowly, scared that you would laugh in his face and take your suggestion back. You grab your phone off of your bedside table and press shuffle on a playlist. Draco can’t believe how weird it is to hear your music playing but not have it muffled in his ears as if he was underwater. 

He watches with parted lips as you slide down so you’re laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling. Draco looks at you like you put the stars and the moon in the sky. You might be just a Muggle, but you’re magic to him. The true definition of it. 

Slowly, unsure if he’s crossing a line or not, Draco slides down so he’s lying beside you on your bed, on his back like you. You both stare at your ceiling and he notices that you have constellations painted on it. He nearly melts when he sees ‘Draco’, one of the biggest ones. 

He slides his hand down the small gap in between you and hesitantly holds your hand before guiding it up above your heads. It’s not like real stargazing, but Draco likes it. Maybe one day he would be able to sneak you to the Astronomy Tower and show you the same sky he stares at most nights. 

“That’s Draco,” he says. 

You smile as you turn to face him and Draco shuffles to face you too, the only sounds being your small breaths and an Arctic Monkeys song playing behind you. 

“Maybe I always knew?” You suggest. 

“Maybe,” Draco chuckles back and turns to look up at the ceiling. 

You spend a few seconds admiring his side profile; his sharp jaw and the strength of his nose. It’s hard to be scared of the stranger when he’s so beautiful and feels so familiar. Like a puzzle piece you’d been looking for. 

“You’ve only been playing sad songs recently,” Draco says quietly after a little bit. “Is everything okay with you? I was worried... so I asked my friend to teach me how to do the mirror trick.”

You frown a little at the reminder and immediately grow embarrassed. You’re not sure if you should make up a lie or try to change the subject, but Draco seems really concerned and you’d feel awful lying. 

“My... Well, um, my boyfriend broke up with me,” you say awkwardly. 

You feel Draco stiffen beside you. He sits up after a few seconds. He knows it’s not really your fault but he can’t help feeling jealous and angry. He swallows as he stares at a spot on your carpet, unsure how to feel knowing that his soulmate had been with another person. 

He needed a moment to think. He didn’t want to scare you with his harsh words or looks.

“I should get back,” Draco mutters, trying to make his voice sound strong as he stands.

“Draco, I--”

“It’s nearly what? Four in the morning? I should of been going ages ago anyway,” he forces you a grim smile as he heads towards the mirror. “I’ll try and talk to you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You watch with a saddened expression as Draco slips his hand through the glass or your mirror and is suddenly gone. You push yourself up from the mattress and rush over, your fingertips brushing it but coming to a dead end. You blink back tears, wondering if you had just imagined the entire thing. 

You stare into the mirror, unaware that Draco is sadly staring back. 

...

i know it’s a lil dramatic but that’s draco for you and teen love in general tbh 

[seasonofthewicth]

nobody does it like you do - act 6

The final part!! I hope this is a satisfying conclusion! Thank you so much to everyone who has reblogged/commented/shared - it has meant so much. Special thank you again to @morganofthewildfire I'd still be working away at this fic if it wasn't for you, I don't know I ever would have finished it off. Your comments and analysis helped me so much and made this fic better than I could have alone, I'm so grateful.

13k - masterlist - ao3

--

There are five weeks between the eventful wrap party and her first day shooting the Netflix miniseries in Antica. Five weeks for Aelin to sort her shit.

It’s ambitious, and probably unattainable, but she needs a goal.

She needs something to draw her mind away from Rifthold and the director she knows is no longer there.

She gives herself a week of self pity. A week of lying around her sparsely decorated and impersonal Orynth apartment dwelling and pointedly ignoring the headlines she knows have been released. Elide let her know only one picture was captured of her with tears in her eyes leaving the party. Only one and gods bless Elide she shut it down.

Aelin lies on her uncomfortable couch in well-worn pyjamas with unwashed hair and runs through the photos on her phone of her and Fenrys, her and Manon, and the group of them together on set doing whatever shit they used to do.

She spends more time than she should like that. She sits there until her coffee table is overflowing with takeaway wrappers and Aedion and Elide have stopped texting more than once a day. She’s awful for ignoring them but she’s still mortified.

She hasn’t been able to look Aedion in the eyes since he dropped her back at her apartment after their long flight home from Rifthold. He didn’t say much. After he managed to again get her out of the party with minimal press she had cried, curled up between Aedion and Lysandra in their bed, and he didn’t offer judgement or instruction.

He just held her, whispering words she can’t remember but appreciates anyway. Now she hasn’t replied to any of his texts.

She hasn’t texted Fenrys or Manon either. She doesn’t know what to say.

She knows Fenrys jumped immediately into another movie, an action movie she knows he’s been chomping at the bit to get training for, and Manon into the second series of her show that she’s probably too famous for now.

They’re busy. They’ll understand. At least that’s what she tells herself.

The worst thing she does in that week is pour over the photos she has of Rowan. She didn’t realise she had so many but her camera roll is full of silver and green.

There are photos of just him, looking like Rowan, tall and handsome and understatedly happy, smiling covert little smiles at Aelin behind the camera. He was used to her instructing him to pose by the end of filming, she loved snapping away as he did anything. Eating, sleeping, smiling, everything - if it was Rowan she wanted it captured.

Now every photo is a knife to the chest.

The ones of the two of them together are worse, they twist the knife, pain splicing through her until she can hardly breathe. There are pictures of their cheeks pressed together, eyes shining, some serious, some silly. In all of them Aelin can clearly see her own happiness.

She can’t stop looking at them even as tears swell in her eyes and her throat gets tight.

For one week.

Until it’s been seven days since her flight landed back in Orynth and she gets up off her couch and deletes them. She almost doesn’t, her thumb hovers over the button for a good minute before she presses down but then it’s done and they’re gone. She showers and changes her clothes, she throws away all the rubbish on her coffee table and makes a plan.

Filming the movie with all of them it was easy to feel better than she did before, surrounded by new and exciting things, new people who didn’t know her before or treat her differently because of it. It was easy to lose herself in who she was there and with them.

Now though, she’s back to real life and real life lasts for an uneventful three weeks.

She tries what she can, she reads, she runs, she bakes, she teaches herself how to knit. None of it is satisfying and it's hard to make it stick. It’s all boring and never quite captures her attention the way she hopes. Never captures her attention enough to tear it away from Rowan and Rifthold.

A week before she flies out to Antica it changes.

She stumbles upon the change, completely accidentally, and she doesn’t realise what she’s needed until it's right in front of her.

Her usual run route is obstructed by construction and so she takes a left where she usually takes a right, heading down into the west side of the city, the side she doesn’t often frequent.

She used to. She used to spend hours strolling the streets letting the warmth of the sun and Sam’s hand in hers settle into her skin as they observed the numerous bakeries and small boutiques. Thankfully the scenery appears to have changed since.

The chill breeze of the September Orynth air teases the loose strands of hair tickling her face as she comes to a stop outside the sleek shop front. The wooden panels are painted a dark, glossy black and the windows are polished so brightly they reflect what’s left of the sunlight.

Music of Mistward the sign reads in curved, white lettering.

She can see her reflection in the shop window, her cheeks flushed, hair unruly, her running gear nowhere near to what would be appropriate attire for the shop dripping in class but she can’t turn away.

A bell tinkles as she pushes through the door, her headphones gripped tight in her fist as the gentle jazz playing over the sound system greets her. She doesn’t like jazz, it’s not her thing, but along with the musk of wood in the air it’s soothing in welcoming her in.

She passes walls of guitars and violins until she reaches the instrument that caught her eye. It’s sleek, black lid propped open revealing the elegant strings, pulled tight in neat lines. The sharp contrast of the keys against each other, bright against the deep black of the case. Her fingers ghost over them, dying to press down.

She hasn’t played since those days in Rowan’s Doranelle home. She’s wanted to, longed to feel the cool keys under her fingertips and the flood of the music pouring out of her, but the cheap keyboard in her Orynth apartment wouldn’t do Rowan’s beautiful instrument justice.

Aelin would rather not play at all than attempt a cheap imitation of what she felt there.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A voice sounds behind her, low and raspy but cheerful all the same.

She turns, taking in the older man, his grey hair cut short and his classic shirt and slacks pressed crisp. She glances back to the piano before facing him fully.

“Stunning,” she breathes.

The man steps forwards and offers her his hand. She slips her hand into his and he pumps firmly as he introduces himself.

“Emrys,” he says. “Welcome to Music of Mistward.”

“Aelin,” she says, surprised to hear her voice thick.

“Great to meet you, Aelin,” Emrys says with an ancient smile. He nods towards the piano. “Do you play?”

“No,” she says and Emrys’ smile flickers. “Yes, I mean I used to. I want to,” is what she settles on.

He nods, satisfied, before taking a step closer to the piano. He runs a hand over the top, almost reverently and smiles to himself.

“Antique,” he starts, “almost one hundred years old but well loved. I acquired it recently - here we deal mostly in antique instruments, it’s a passion for both myself and my husband. The previous owner only sold it to me when she inherited it and didn’t know how to play, she wanted it to find a good home.”

He shares a smile with her as if she’s in on the joke but her breathing still hasn’t settled.

“Satin Ebony finish,” Emrys continues, “eighty-eight keys, all original but preserved to the highest quality. Accompanying bench, cut with refreshed velvet. I don’t know in all my years I’ve seen such a fine instrument as old as this.”

Aelin glances back to the piano, it’s big, it won’t fit in her apartment in Orynth but she doesn’t care. She can… adjust. She hasn’t felt a pull like this in a while, she doesn’t want to deny it when she does.

“How much?” she almost demands from the man in front of her.

He appraises her and she knows what he sees. Her bedraggled state and the tension through her shoulders doesn’t give the impression of someone with this much cash to throw around. She abruptly ignores that the way she probably can afford this is because of Rowan’s movie.

When he doesn’t speak she repeats herself, more firmly. “How much?”

“Our price includes delivery and tuning on arrival.” He seems apprehensive of telling her the truth. Aelin waits.

When he finally reveals the figure Aelin blinks. And then she extends her hand. “I’ll take it.”

To his credit Emrys just nods, shaking her hand. “You don’t want to at least play it first?”

Aelin feels the smirk she hasn’t worn in a while creep onto her face. “Is there a risk you’re pulling a fast one on me?”

Emrys returns her smile, a playful glint in his eye. “Not a chance, Aelin. Please follow me to the register where I can take your details.”

Aelin almost stumbles. Almost, but then recovers.

“Any chance I can pay a deposit and then let you know where you’ll be delivering sometime soon?”

Emrys winks knowingly. “Absolutely.”

She follows him to the counter, signs away part of a disgustingly large total of money but leaves with a sense of satisfaction. It’s an accomplishment, a step for purely selfish reasons.

The first thing she does when she leaves the shop is call Elide.

Aelin meets her new therapist two days before she flies out to Antica.

She hasn’t called her old one in months and thinks that’s probably a sign. And she’s all about changes at the moment.

She isn’t shooting in Antica for too long, only a couple of months until she’s back in Orynth and then back to Rifthhold for press. Her stomach drops everytime the thought wanders into her head.

She’s excited to be back in Rifthold, but the company is daunting.

Fenrys and Manon will easily be pissed at her disappearance. She knows Manon will play aloof but she also knows she’ll be upset, Fenrys too. Aelin didn’t mean to hurt them, didn’t mean to drop off the face of the Earth, and she knows she’s let them down but Fenrys and Manon remind her of Rowan. She couldn’t trust the conversation not to eventually steer towards him and Aelin isn’t ready for that.

Their break-up feels weirdly anticlimactic. After everything they built to, Aelin just dipped.

She knows it seems that way to Rowan at least. She hasn’t texted him, or rang him or anything since the party. She’s wanted to, wanted more than anything to hear his voice as she cried, but it’s not fair to him to drag it out and she knows that. She knew when she drew the line she had to stay on her side of it, no matter how much it hurt.

She had cried until her head pounded and her throat was raw. She cried until her eyes itched with no tears left to fall, until all that came out of her was hoarse screeches as she ached to hear him call her Fireheart one last time.

But no one needs to know that, she had kept it as hidden as she could.

She definitely didn’t need any more paparazzi pictures of her with red-rimmed eyes looking downtrodden. She couldn’t bear the thought of Rowan, or worse her mother, seeing them.

She knows Fenrys and Manon; Aedion, Lysandra and Elide would see through her flimsy excuses and so it was easier to stay quiet.

She’s not thinking about facing them yet. She supposes that will be something that likely comes up with this new therapist, but so far on her own, she’s choosing avoidance.

She gets Maeve’s number from Dorian, and she comes highly recommended by a number of Dorian’s other high profile clients. She’s well-versed in non-disclosure agreements, secret sessions and back street exits; she feels like the perfect fit for Aelin.

Unofficially, Dorian lets her know Maeve takes no shit, and that’s also just what Aelin needs.

They agree to online sessions while she’s in Antica, but Maeve recommended an initial meeting and Aelin is open to all of her suggestions.

Their first hour is not directly her most life changing but it’s a start.

“Welcome, Aelin,” Maeve says, sweeping an arm out towards the firm-looking, orange couch in the centre of the room.

Aelin takes a seat, mutters her thanks and glances around the room.

The room should feel cold with the exposed brick and minimalistic decor, the only furniture being the couch Aelin perches on, the almost regal armchair Maeve reclines in and a lamp, but it doesn’t and she gets comfortable tucking her feet beneath her thighs and leaning against the arm.

“So,” Maeve begins, surveying her in the way only a true professional can. “Let’s get started.”

Aelin feels bare beneath her gaze, and like everything about Maeve and her practise it should be unnerving but she just blinks against the scrutiny.

“Why are you here today? You could start with sharing why you have made this appointment.”

And isn’t that the million gold-mark question?

Aelin takes a deep breath through her nose and raises her chin.

“I don’t want to move backwards,” she admits. “Or maybe I just want to know I’ve actually moved forwards.”

Maeve’s expression stays calm, but Aelin knows she’d be smirking if she could. She’s well aware of how therapy works but even so, speaking her thoughts aloud can help to verify them in her own mind.

Aelin hopes so at least.

Their hour is over quickly and Aelin is resolved that Maeve is a good fit, reassured in Dorian’s claim that the woman takes no shit. Her all-knowing assessment of Aelin should have been unsettling but the frank dissection is what she needs.

Online therapy, especially fitting it around shooting might be a challenge but it’s for the best. As much as she values her independence and standing on her own two feet, Aelin is big enough to admit that facing her mother again may require some professional guidance. Seeing Rowan too, but again, she’s not thinking about that yet.

Antica is hot and Aelin is sweaty within seconds of stepping out of the air-conditioned luxury of the airport. That feeling lasts the entire time she’s there, disrupting the otherwise enjoyable time she has shooting the series.

Her new co-stars are fine, they invite her out with them and make her smile but she can’t help as though a part of her is always comparing them to who and what she left in Rifthold. Aelin tries her best to enjoy her time there with them, she hosts dinner parties and invites them to a game of Aedion’s but nothing quite hits the same as her time spent on The Crescent City.

She rationalises it to Maeve, that The Crescent City was a big turning point in her life and that it has nothing to do with Rowan, Fenrys or Manon, but she’s not sure she even believes it herself.

She spends the rest of her time in Antica trying to convince herself, and Maeve, that she’s moving past it. That she’s moving forwards or else she’ll move backwards. She’s not sure how much of it is futile.

The Crescent City is done, whether she likes it or not, and she can’t deny it changed her in ways she didn’t expect. It’s a hard pill to swallow that maybe it changed her beyond return to how she was before. She also can’t quite figure out whether she thinks that’s a bad thing or not.

They have a dinner for the core cast and crew, including Rowan, once they’re all back in Rifthold for the beginning of the press cycle. They have one night to reacquaint before they’re shoved into the whirlwind that is interviews, photoshoots and promotion.

She’s seen the trailer already and it’s just as she expected but more. It’s dark and dreary with flashes of brightness from herself and Fenrys and she’d want to watch it if she chanced a viewing as a member of the public.

What is surreal, is to see herself in a polished version of the film they were creating. Or at least a part of it.

She said each of the lines, rehearsed them over and over until they fell off her tongue without thought, but she still doesn’t recognise the girl in the trailer. A droplet of pride slips down her chest at the realisation that it’s not Aelin in the trailer but Feyre. She knows she’s good, has known it all along, but the realisation and reaffirmation is ecstasy better than any drug.

She hovers outside the restaurant, watching through the window, needing a couple more seconds before she submits herself to the assault of them all again. She still hasn’t replied to either Fenrys or Manon and the thought presses on her like lead but it’s too late to change that now.

If she’s honest she’s concerning herself with Fenrys and Manon in the hopes of distracting herself from the fact that she’s seconds away from Rowan. Seconds away from him in the flesh, his solid body in front of her that she had learned almost as well as her own.

Her palms are clammy and she wipes them against the fabric of her trousers. The upcoming interviews and photoshoots will all be styled for her and so she’s relishing in her last moments for a while of truly dressing like Aelin.

She takes a step towards the restaurant door, the tip of her trainer bumping the wood when a voice sounds behind her.

“Well, hello there, Stranger.”

Aelin braces herself, hand paused outstretched where it had been reaching for the door.

She turns, biting her lip as she faces Fenrys. He looks the same as he did, skin still golden, eyes still dancing with mischief, but his golden curls are trimmed shorter than the last time she saw him. His expression is carefully blank.

“I- Hi… um,” she stumbles over the words. “I’ve missed you.”

Fenrys breaks almost immediately. “Oh thank the fucking gods.”

He surges forwards and wraps her into a tight hug. Aelin clings to him, fighting the tears in her eyes as she buries her face in his chest. She’s gone far too long without this, without him, and it’s all her own fault.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” Fenrys asks. “Oh wait, no you don’t. I’m assuming your phone broke, or was stolen or something since you never replied to any of my texts letting you know.”

Aelin knows her cheeks are stained pink. “I’m sorry,” she admits.

“I know.” His voice softens, losing the teasing edge as he presses a gentle kiss to her cheek.

He pauses before he speaks again, his eyes running over her face. “You could have texted me anytime, you know. Manon too. I know you might forget or try to convince yourself otherwise, but we are your friends. You could have called us about literally anything.”

Aelin feels like she could cry. She’s not sure that she isn’t.

“It doesn’t have to be about anything serious, especially not related to the movie,” or Rowan he doesn’t say but Aelin hears it. “We just wanted to hear your stupid voice.”

Aelin pouts. “My voice isn’t stupid.”

She pokes her tongue out as he rolls his eyes, easily falling back into the dynamic they had shaped a few months ago.

“Not what I meant,” he says before pausing, taking her in as she stands in front of him. “You can’t lose us that easily, you know. We’re like rats or fleas or something. Hard to get rid of.”

“Nice,” she comments, but her chest is tight at his words.

He smiles at her before adding, “and you had fucking better text me back.”

Aelin laughs through the sniffles he’s kindly ignoring. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and finds his contact. Hi she sends and feels his phone buzz against her.

“Much better,” he says and releases her from his arms. “Now, are you ready for a night of the finest dining all on the studio credit card?”

Aelin laughs again. “Lead the way.”

He shoots her a wink and waltzes ahead to hold the door open for her.

Fenrys’ presence shouldn’t reassure her the way it does, especially after the way she has treated him but she clings to him anyway. He’s her buffer for now, a crutch for tonight and tonight only. Once tonight is over and tomorrow begins she and Rowan can be professional, they managed it for months during filming and this should be no different.

Rowan still looks the way he did the night she broke his heart.

His silver hair falls elegantly over his forehead as he bends his head to talk to Manon, the pair of them are engrossed in a conversation as she and Fenrys walk over, not spotting them yet. She loves his hair, loves the thick silver waves and the way they feel between her fingers. She loves the way any attempt he makes to arrange the thick strands is never quite able to tame the beast. She loves the shirt he has on, with the sleeves rolled up exposing inches of tanned skin and dark ink, the same worn green cotton she wore numerous times around his living room all those months ago. She can still remember the feel of it against her bare skin.

His smile is the same, his green eyes crinkling as his lips barely part as he does his best to hold it back.

His smile is the same until he spots her.

He catches sight of her when she reaches the table and his smile drops, the shutters closing over his expression so fast she wouldn’t know he knew how to smile had she not just seen it.

It tears her chest in two and any attempt at a smile on her part is futile. It’s all she can do to make it to her seat without stumbling and she’s sure she misses any other greetings she gets as she slumps onto the chair opposite Manon. She absently notes Fenrys dropping in at her side.

She can’t look away from Rowan, her eyes scanning to try and find anything that distinguishes him from the man she loved all those months ago. She finds nothing. He’s still Rowan and Aelin still… fuck.

He recovers before she does, ever the collected courtier, clearing his throat and nodding.

“Aelin,” he says and she adores the sound of her name on his tongue.

“Hi Rowan,” she manages and hears how weak she sounds. Rowan hears it too. She can tell from the purse of his lips and the tension in the hand he rests along the back of Manon’s chair.

Aelin allows her eyes to drift to Manon and she finally catches the thunderous expression the younger girl wears.

“Hi,” she whispers and Manon blinks.

“Hi?” Manon repeats incredulously.

Aelin is fucked.

“Five months and I get a hi?”

It’s loud and a few heads turn their way. It’s simultaneously mortifying and everything Aelin deserves.

“I’m sorry,” she says plainly.

She could lie, make up some useless excuses but in the end there’s nothing else but the truth and if Manon wants her to grovel she will, she’s just not sure this is the time or place.

Fenrys shares her thoughts. “Later, Manon,” he says, gently.

Rowan’s eyes stay firmly glued to the tablecloth as Manon frowns, seemingly unwilling to let it go.

After a few seconds, seconds Aelin spends waiting for the ground to open up and swallow her, Manon nods. She nods and turns to Fenrys, demanding to know what he’s ordering. And just like that Aelin has a moment to catch her breath.

She knew this dinner wouldn’t be easy, knew she’d be walking into the lion's den of her own making, but she hadn’t expected it to be as hard. Hadn’t expected seeing Rowan to feel like a slap, hadn’t expected Manon’s hurt to scrape across her skin leaving her raw.

She tries not to think she deserves it, Maeve would only raise a brow as if to say we’ve been over this. The thought is sobering, and she manages to lift her head.

It is what it is, what’s done is done and she can only apologise and move forwards.

As much as she tries to resist, Aelin finds herself watching Rowan throughout the night. It’s scary how familiar he feels, he should feel like a stranger, but he feels like she knows him too well. He laughs when she expects, rolls his eyes when she predicts. He orders what she thought he would and he sips away at an orange juice the way he did the first dinner they all had together.

Aelin already feels so different than she did the last time she was in Rifthold and he seems unchanged.

She observes for most of the night, feeling drained despite her minimal contributions to the conversations. She speaks when spoken to and actively avoids speaking when Rowan does, she definitely doesn’t respond to anything he says even though she wants to at least twice and wants to laugh a couple more.

She makes it through and clings to Fenrys again as they all leave, linking her arm through his as they leave the restaurant. He knows what she’s doing but graciously guides her out of the building. Once on the pavement outside the restaurant he pauses and turns to her.

“What hotel are you staying in while you’re here?”

The rest of the group are milling about, calling taxis and bidding their farewells. Aelin doesn’t know how she’s getting back yet, she’s assuming she’ll split a ride with someone.

“Um, the Glass Castle, I think,” she says, desperately trying to recall the name of the hotel she dumped her bags in a few hours earlier.

“Boo,” Fenrys laughs, pointing his thumb down. “They’ve got me in the Torre Cesme. Think I’m ages away from you.”

Aelin laughs, disappointed but ready to order her own taxi back when a voice she didn’t expect sounds.

“I’ve just ordered a cab to the Glass Castle, I’m staying there too. You can jump in if you want.”

Rowan.

She shoots Fenrys a panicked look but his expression is pure glee.

“That would be great thanks, Boss,” Fenrys says, shrugging his arm out of hers and nudging her towards Rowan.

“No problem, Boyo.” Rowan offers Fenrys a dark grin at the nickname and the sight of it stills her. It’s new, he used to roll his eyes whenever Fenrys would drop it into conversation, but now Rowan’s playing along. And the grin, the curl of the lips and the narrowing of the eyes, it’s sexy as fuck.

It’s only taken one night and she’s back in the danger zone. She doesn’t want to be, hell, she wants him to take her back to his hotel room and peel off her clothes but this is Rowan. She’s spent the last few months trying to get over him, falling into bed with him the first night she sees him again would not likely be defined as progress.

He’s also not likely to want that after what she did.

“You don’t have to,” she says. The first direct thing she’s said to him since their greeting.

“I know.” A slight shrug of his broad shoulders. “But we’re going to the same place, it wouldn’t seem logical to take different cars.”

Logic. That’s all it is.

“Right.” She doesn’t think she’s ever felt so awkward with him, not even at the start. “Thank you,” she says, following him to the car.

Fenrys shoots her a grin as he slips into his own taxi. Traitor.

Rowan holds the door open for her and slips in behind her. She tries not to think anything of the fact he could have easily taken the front seat.

The ride is silent apart from the easy chit chat he makes with the driver, another thing she’s not sure she noticed him do before, and she stares out the window as the city passes by. The streets of Rifthold are not her home but she feels a brightness as she glances down the curving roads, spotting groups of people milling about enjoying the night.

She knows the first call she made to Elide in weeks was the right call. Elide is the only person she’d trust with her bank account and access to real estate listings. The link to the flat her friend had sent over has stayed open in her browser since she got it.

It’s modern with classic twists, situated in a recently renovated old warehouse with miles of exposed brick and rustic wooden panelling. She loves the master bedroom the most, with its adjoining en suite with a huge bathtub she can picture herself soaking in. She has a viewing booked in two days but doubts she’ll even need it.

It’s not long before the taxi pulls up outside the hotel and she follows Rowan through the glass doors. He presses the button for the lifts and Aelin shifts in the awkward silence.

Awkward is not something she’s used to with Rowan. Or it wasn’t before.

The doors slide open and again she follows him inside.

He pauses with a hand hovering over the buttons for the floors. “Which floor?”

“Nine.”

Aelin hates these one word exchanges compared to the hours they used to share talking about everything and nothing. She can’t believe this is the man she was so vulnerable with.

His short huff of laughter drags her gaze to his face.

“What?”

“Makes sense,” is what he says, shaking his head and pressing only the button for the ninth floor.

The ride takes seconds, a minute at most, filled with the silence between them.

When the doors open to the ninth floor she steps out, determined not to follow him again, and she feels him follow her. Even now she’s so aware of his powerful body and the way he moves it. She shouldn’t be so attracted to the power emanating from him, from the breadth of his shoulders to the sureness of his steps. She wants him, doesn’t think she ever stopped, except now he’s the forbidden fruit. Forbidden only by her own actions.

She reaches her door, room 905, but pauses with her key tucked in her hand.

“Thanks for letting me share your cab,” she says, finding herself desperate not to say goodbye yet. “I can transfer you for half.”

That finally, finally, cracks a whisper of a smile but she’s not sure she enjoys his laughter if it’s at her. “Don’t worry about it.”

That should be the end of it, she should open her door and shut it behind her, they have a few weeks ahead of them that will be hard enough without any complications.

She left him and he seems gracious enough to have mostly moved past it.

“It was good to see you, Aelin,” he says, seemingly unwilling to let the night end as well. She doesn’t let the seed of hope sprout because what would be the point?

Nevertheless, Aelin smiles, leaning back against her door.

Rowan continues, “even if I wasn’t sure how the night was going to go.”

Her attention is spiked. “What do you mean?”

She can’t lie, a part of her expects him to back down at the edge to her voice. He doesn’t.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to pretend nothing ever happened between us.”

She blinks, giving herself a second to process.

Maybe this isn’t the same Rowan from all those months ago. That night he let her walk away from him, gods know she needed it, but a dark little part of her had wanted him to fight her harder. Fight harder for her. When he hadn’t she’d taken it as her sign.

She knows the expectation was toxic, if he had fought her it would have only pissed her off, but she wishes she’d had someone to tell her it was the wrong choice. It would have helped to hear in the moment, rather than be faced with Rowan months down the line that she wants and can’t have.

The Rowan in front of her, the third Rowan she’s known, stares her down. His eyes peel away each of the layers she’s worked with Maeve for months to don in a second.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

It’s honest and maybe she’s not the same Aelin as a few months ago either.

That’s what she had asked for that night in the cool air, to move past them with as little commotion as possible, stirring up as little attention as they could. She hadn’t wanted to let them eclipse the movie and yet that ended up being exactly what she had accomplished.

Now though, Aelin knows better.

Rowan nods as his eyes dart across her face. He seems to step closer without realising. Aelin notes the motion, still so aware of him and his proximity to her.

His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “I was so angry at you for leaving.”

Aelin loses her breath at his confession.

Eventually she manages, “was?”

He looks away from her, glancing down the dark hallway, his jaw tight. When she’s with him she forgets about the world around them, there’s probably-definitely-CCTV in this hallway but he’s here and she can’t let him go yet.

His fists curl and uncurl as he takes a deep breath.

“Was,” he says shortly. “I was so angry at you, the way you did what you did was shit.”

Aelin swallows. He’s not wrong.

“I know.”

“But now I don’t know.” She lifts her eyes to his, swimming in the openness she doesn’t deserve. And fuck that. That is such bullshit. She meets his stare, returning all that he isn’t saying. “I spent a long time thinking about it, thinking about you, and it took me a while but now I get it.”

That hurts more than she expects. She didn’t expect him to be all over her the minute they reunited but his understanding was always a kicker.

“I know why you did it,” he continues. “And that took most of the wind out of my sails.”

Aelin frowns. He can’t possibly know why.

“I don’t think you do.” He tilts his head, an invitation for her to expand. “Or you’d know that nothing has changed.”

“Hasn’t it?”

His question throws her. Completely.

She tilts her head up to look at him, closer to her than he’s been all night, pushing her to keep being honest with him.

She’s dazed being this close to him again after so long, the green of his eyes stronger than she remembers. Or maybe her brain had assured her the memory of him couldn’t have been real.

“I don’t know,” she admits, unable to fight the way her body leans into him.

His teeth graze his lower lip and she follows the motion.

He’s silent for a beat too long and her skin is thrumming under his attention. She doesn’t know how she’s gone this long without him, she doesn’t know how she thought she’d survive never having him again.

“Let me know when you figure it out,” he says finally, drawing back and a rush of cool air fills the space he had taken. “Goodnight Aelin.”

He turns and she watches his back down the hallway. He slips easily into a room a few doors down and she’s left watching the path he’d taken, feeling the weight of his eyes on her lips.

Her head thuds against the door as she screws her eyes shut. She wants to scream, wants to chase him down the hall, wants to fly back to Orynth where she was safe.

She doesn’t do any of those things.

She tucks herself into her hotel room and readies herself for the whirlwind that’s about to hit. These next few weeks are going to be hard, not just dealing with the Rowan situation, but she can’t fight the excitement she feels.

Fuck. She’s back in Rifthold, back where she loves, doing what she was born to do.

This is big. She can feel it.

The Crescent City is not her first project, and so she’s been a part of press cycles before, she knows how they go. What she doesn’t know is how a press cycle for something like this works.

The only word she can find is insanity.

There are somehow earlier mornings than they had while shooting and often longer days. She gets poked and prodded in hair and make-up for hours before they spend all day sat in a hotel room filming repetitive interviews for various magazines.

She and Fenrys are genuinely friends and yet they still have to put on a show in front of the cameras. She plays up her laughter when he cracks a joke and he makes sure to never look away from her for longer than two seconds when she speaks or a producer behind the camera makes a comment.

She loves Fenrys but it’s exhausting. Her only blessing is that for most of her engagements she’s with Fenrys and Manon with Rowan conducting his own interviews separately as she had hoped.

Sometimes though, given their relatively similar ages and general level of chemistry, they get grouped together.

The four of them are filming a video for Buzzfeed, filling in a quiz to find out which character from The Crescent City they’re most like. She’s unsurprised to discover her result is Rhysand and it’s fun even if her heart does pound every time she has to act like she’s unfazed and friendly with Rowan.

There’s a moment, just a moment, where she almost breaks from her friendly and unbothered interview persona. It’s her turn to read the question, what item could you not survive without on a desert island?

It’s Rowan that speaks. “Her shampoo,” he says, “it’s jasmine.”

There’s a split second where she doesn’t speak, where all she can do is stare at Rowan, stunned that he remembered and thought to mention it now.

In that split second she’s transported back to memories of them together in the shower at her rented apartment, kissing lazily under the spray after spending hours between her sheets. She remembers dumping the shampoo into her hand and then onto his head, massaging his thick locks and surrounding them in the scent of jasmine.

She remembers how he kissed her neck as she did, trailing his hands over her silky curves, slick with the soap, with his kisses building in heat until her hands dropped to his shoulders. He’d lavished kisses down her chest until he’d jerked back, shampoo in his eyes and she’d laughed until he was safe and pressed his lips again to hers, continuing where he’d left off.

She’s shocked he’d bring this up when there’s a camera on the two of them and she can only imagine the comments it will spark. She’s not sure she cares if it keeps Rowan’s eyes on her.

“It’s luxurious for a reason,” she says when she recovers, tossing her thick locks over her shoulder. “Well worth it.”

She doesn’t miss the flicker in his own mask at her comment.

That kind of interaction will no doubt ignite the sparks she’d only ever wanted to avoid.

As the press cycle goes on and on, and they get closer and closer to the premiere it only becomes harder for her conviction to hold.

She tests her own argument, the clear line she drew in the sand, when she manages to keep it professional with Rowan and she’s not sure where that leaves her. She had thought they would overshadow everything about the project and now she’s not sure.

She said nothing had changed and he had challenged her.

She’s still not sure who’s in the right.

Everything is simultaneously completely new and exactly the same. Rowan is still gorgeous, still charming in his own reserved way, still almost reverent when he talks about his craft throughout interviews. He still talks with his hands and Aelin still can’t draw her eyes away from their motions, she still craves the touch of them on her skin. He’s still seven years older than her and the director of her big break.

Yet there are differences.

They’re still often on the same page, offering similar answers and backing each other up but now he never backs down from a challenge. Now he doesn’t hold back those comments she knows he was always dying to let slip. She should be annoyed, everytime he drops a line that pushes her to expand a little part of her wants to roll her eyes.

She doesn’t though. Her blood heats and her skin prickles. She loves this with him. Loves the dance they play, the teasing, verbal games that shouldn’t start her off but do. She loves the smirk he wears when they end up down that path, and she knows she wears it’s mirror image.

She always ends up squirming in her seat and it should be wrong but it isn’t. The cameras can’t see below their chests and the flush in her cheeks could easily be from the warmth of the day.

She’s beginning to wonder if she’s powerless against Rowan Whitethorn. If she’s powerless against the green of his eyes or the curl of his accent. The slant of his brows or the points of his teeth when he smiles.

She doesn’t know that it’s just one thing. It’s all of the things, it’s all of him, and more so than ever she’s completely fucked.

But they aren’t talking outside of the interviews and photoshoots, and the knowledge of which hotel room is his itches her toes every night. It would be so easy to sneak down the hall, to knock on the door and slot her lips to his when he opened.

It’s only a couple of nights before the premiere when the temptation becomes too much. She’s been around Rowan all day, surrounded by the smell of his aftershave, the notes of pine and freshness and Rowan and it’s too much. She strides down the hallway, resolved in her decision and closes her fingers over the button for the lift.

She needs to be elsewhere or she’ll make some bad decisions.

She’s come so far, survived months without him, she can’t cave due to proximity.

The hotel bar is deserted when she walks in and makes a beeline to the bartender. Yeah, maybe after her wobble at the wrap party a bar isn’t the best decision she could make but her options are limited. Trying to sleep with Rowan is, after all, probably the worst of both options.

“Just a sparkling water please,” she says to the barman who nods and returns a moment later.

“Put it on my tab.” A voice from the end of the bar.

A laugh bubbles out of her chest as she closes her fingers around her glass. Of course he’s here. She should have spotted Rowan the minute she walked in and it’s cruel that the reason she didn’t was that her thoughts were too wrapped up in him.

“Be careful what you sign up for,” she says as she walks over, her steps measured as she comes to a stop before him. Her hips swing of their own accord and his eyes dart up and down the length of her. “I can put a number of these away.”

The smile he gives her is surprisingly unguarded. It seems he’s done holding himself back too. Aelin loves it.

“I don’t doubt it,” he says, nodding at the stool next to him. She obliges as he speaks again. “It’s hard to switch off sometimes.”

He’s always on the same page as she is. Aelin shrugs, taking a sip of the drink he bought her.

They’re quiet for a moment, both unsure of how to break the silence between them when one of the last things they knew was the taste of each other’s lips.

“I keep thinking I’ll get used to it, that one day this will just be my job, but I never do,” Aelin says eventually, tracing a fingertip through the condensation gathered on her glass.

Rowan nods, smiling softly down at the bar and taking a sip of his own drink. An orange juice as usual.

“It’s hard to sleep at the end of days like today,” he says. “It’s why I’m in here.”

The bar is dark at the late hour, and quiet with no one else in there but them and the bartender. There’s something about the late hour, the darkness and the stillness surrounding them a break from the recent rush, that feels a little bit too close. She feels a little too exposed under the weight of his gaze but she rolls her shoulders back and leans an elbow on the bar as she turns towards him.

“I thought you’d be used to all of this by now,” she says and he cocks his head.

“Why?” His question is coy, begging her to expand.

“This is not your first rodeo and all of that,” she says with a smile.

Rowan laughs softly, the sound curving around her like an embrace.

“It can still be overwhelming after your first big movie,” he says gently, but with an edge to his voice that she needs to immediately get rid of.

“I don’t doubt that,” is what she whispers and his brow seems to soften, sensing her lack of malice.

She hates the way they’re in the position where he assumes the worst of her. She has to make that change.

“I don’t think if I get to do this for the rest of my life that it would ever feel normal.”

“No,” Rowan agrees, “I don’t think it could.”

“So then we need this film to do well.” Aelin shifts on the stool, finding herself leaning closer to him without conscious thought. He doesn’t retreat. He stands his ground until they’re only inches apart. “Lest we find ourselves fading into obscurity.”

“I doubt you ever could,” he says with a laugh and it’s the best thing she’s ever heard.

As he looks at her, his expression soft in the dim light, his smile holds something special for her and her chest lifts that she managed it. That he was willing to give that to her.

“My agent sent over the initial critic reviews earlier,” he says and her stomach plummets.

“And?” she demands, her voice wobbling slightly. Her confidence from a minute ago vanished.

This is the moment where she could sink, the moment this could all be over.

“And they’re good,” he almost whispers.

“Good,” she repeats and it’s not a question but he nods.

She wants to throw herself at him at the news, a couple of months ago she wouldn’t have even hesitated, but now she sits clenching her fists and trying not to smile too wide. It feels like a waste. She’ll never get this feeling again.

She turns to him and he’s smiling so she does what she’s wanted to for months. Aelin leans forwards and wraps an arm over his shoulders, pressing her chest to his.

His arms slip up slowly over her shoulders at first, unsure but gaining confidence as he tightens his grip around her, drawing her further into his chest. Aelin laughs a little, throwing her other arm around him and resting her face against his shoulder.

It’s not enough, it never could be with him, but it will do. She’s just happy he didn’t push her away.

Eventually, after a length of time that feels far too short, she pulls back to see him gazing down at her with an expression she can’t name. His brows are drawn in with his lips gently parted. He’s happy but apprehensive, open but distant. Aelin will take what she can and the distance between them has always been too far.

She wants nothing more than to close it, to draw herself into him and he into her, but she can’t. They’re here for one thing and one thing only and she refuses after what they’ve been through to mess it up again.

She knows he can read her own expression but she doesn’t care. She’ll hide from everyone and anyone but she’s realising she could never hide from him.

She wants Rowan, will probably want him for the rest of her life, but she made the call and he’s wrong, things haven’t changed.

Apart from all of the things that have.

The day of the premiere Aelin feels sick.

Her stomach twists and she tosses and turns all night and the dark circles under her eyes are brutal as a result. Her make-up artist tuts but diligently packs concealer on until Aelin looks well rested. Or as close as she can.

She’s trying not to think of the stretch of carpet she’ll have to walk tonight, a smile plastered across her face as she poses for the hundreds of cameras. Their premiere is one of the biggest of the season and, along with Fenrys, she’s the star.

She’ll have nowhere to hide.

Aelin sits in front of her mirror, her hair and make-up are done but she’s yet to get dressed. She takes herself in, making sure to note every strand of hair to every line of her lips, feeling as though she needs to remember this moment. The moment before it all explodes.

They’ve been building to this for almost a year now and this is as close to a culmination as she’ll get.

Her dress is something fierce. Endless, flowing velvet in the darkest shade of black. Long sleeves and a fitted bodice with an almost indecent dip in the back. The dress would be modest without that cut out, she can’t wear any underwear it dips so low.

It would be a simple dress, some might even dare to say boring, if it weren’t for the back. The majority of the fabric that remains is covered in gold embroidery taking the form of a dragon, coiled to strike. Aelin adored the dress the moment her stylist revealed it to her. She didn’t consider any of the other dresses, didn’t even acknowledge them as options.

The dress is what she needs, something strong, something to help her hold her head up high. She can walk the red carpet and stare down every single person who doubted her and know that they were wrong.

Aelin doesn’t need their approval. She doesn’t need the reassurance of faceless commenters, she doesn’t need the support of the magazines and the newspapers. She doesn’t need her mother’s approval. On anything.

Aelin is confident and self-assured and she can walk the red carpet knowing that.

Her sessions with Maeve have helped to reassure her stance, but she’s realising day by day she’s known it all along. It’s just taken a little bit of digging to uncover it.

She slips into her dress and it slides on like a second skin. She takes in her appearance, the arch of her brow and the red smirk of her lips makes her look intriguing, like a confident young woman.

Aelin was born to be an actress but she’s proud to say the sight in the mirror is real.

She poses for a few photos before she’s led out of her room and into the car, waiting to take her to the theatre.

She spends the ride in silence, barely listening to the jabbering of the aide in the car with her, and she focuses her thoughts on the calm before the storm. She takes deep breaths and centres herself the way Maeve has taught, she knows this could so easily be overwhelming but she’s determined to enjoy it.

The car stills and she can hear the noise of the crowd outside. She takes a final deep breath and allows her lips to spread into a smile. This one is genuine, nothing forced about it, and she pauses for one last beat.

This is big and Aelin is ready.

The car door opens and the sound hits her like a wave, slamming down onto her and it's so loud she can hardly think.

This is it. This is the moment she has dreamed of.

The nights where this image was all she could cling to to make it through could never have compared to how it feels standing here now, screams of her own name wrapping around her and urging her on.

Her steps are slow and purposeful as she glides down the path forged for her, the red carpet beneath her stilettos is plush and bright. She pauses where she’s instructed, rolling her shoulders back and smirking at the cameras with a hand on her hip.

She knows she looks incredible and the shouts of the photographers do nothing to change her mind. They are here for her, they’re all here for what she has accomplished, along with Fenrys, Manon, Chaol and Rowan and everyone else involved.

There are so many forces upon her, the flashing of the lights, the screams and shouts calling her name or Fenrys’, the magnitude of what this is could knock down a lesser individual but all it does is raise Aelin up.

She’s been through worse than this and survived, she’ll stare down the lense of all of these cameras, of everyone who has ever spoken her name and she won’t cower, she won’t just survive. She’ll thrive.

A warm hand lands on her waist and somehow the flashes of the cameras explode.

“Hey, golden girl.” Fenrys’ words are almost hard to hear even though his lips brush her ear. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Aelin wraps her arm around his back and grins, “I thought I’d at least show my face.”

He returns her smile and together they pose for the cameras, their shoulders back and smiles confident. She’s not sure this could be better.

Until she turns slightly to her left and gets flashes of silver where she and Fenrys are gold.

Rowan and Manon, posing for their own pictures mere metres away. He looks spectacular, the deep black of his tuxedo doing nothing but bringing out the depth of his tan and the shine of his silver hair.

He’s smiling his public smile and it’s gorgeous even though it’s not her favourite of his smiles, she loves the private ones he used to save just for her, and her own smile falters at the sight.

She’s here with Fenrys and it’s not wrong but it doesn’t feel right. The arm around her waist shouldn’t belong to Fenrys.

She should be where Manon is, smiling up at Rowan while they marvel at what they’ve accomplished. She knows her smile has dropped and she fumbles for anything to plaster onto her expression other than the longing she feels for Rowan.

As if she’d called his name he turns to her, green colliding with blue, and she knows he feels the same.

And that hurts far more than all of the months they spent apart.

All the months she spent hurting, trying to deny what she always knew, trying to pretend that they were anything other than a force of nature. They had been an eclipse, threatening to over take all of this but she was wrong. Rowan was wrong too.

It doesn’t matter whether everything or nothing has changed because she wasn’t right in the first place.

She should have known better than to think that whatever flimsy decision she made could halt what they were, what they should be.

She can only hope he forgives her. She can only hope he feels the same.

But the thing about this new Rowan is that she can’t read him the way she used to read her Rowan, she can’t tell if the way he steels himself and turns away from her is a dismissal or if the look they shared had been just as painful for him as it had been for her.

“A masterpiece.” - Rifthold Reporter

“Fenrys Moonbeam shines alongside Aelin Ashryver in The Crescent City. See our full review here.” - Wyrd Stone

“Latest Rowan Whitethorn flick smashes Box Office records.” - Valg Weekly

“Unapologetic, daring and thought provoking. Award nominations expected to follow for The Crescent City.” - Terrasen Tribune

Her phone has not stopped buzzing for the past four days.

Dorian texts every waking hour with the updates he gets, the numbers coming in and all her latest offers. It’s surreal. She knew they were good but she’s not sure she ever really expected this. Aedion texts her a picture every time he sees or hears her name, it should be terrifying the frequency with which he texts her but she has to fight back her smile each time he does.

She managed to find an hour the night before to call Lysandra and the majority of their call had consisted of Aelin repeatedly asking what the fuck was happening while Lysandra cackled down the phone.

She’d even got a text from Lorcan. It was alright, he’d written. Followed by, I hope I die before ever having to watch you make out with someone like that again.

She’d sent three middle finger emojis and a kissy face in response.

Now is probably not the best time to move to a different country but she’d signed her name on the papers two days before the premiere and Rifthold is calling, irrespective of the fact she’s only been back in Orynth for two days.

Most of her stuff headed out yesterday with the moving company leaving Aelin with two suitcases to fly back to Rifthold with tomorrow.

There’s one last place she needs to go before she heads back to finally get a good night's sleep before her flight tomorrow. She’s never set foot in this graveyard before, she’s never had the courage to dare before, but she’s emboldened. By the success of the movie, by her progress in the past year, by her sessions with Maeve. This has felt like a natural step.

The shining, black headstone is understated and classy and completely to his taste.

Sam Cortland. Beloved son and brother, taken far too soon.

Aelin waits with her head bowed, allowing all of her emotions to rush through her veins. She doesn’t fight them, it would be pointless to try, and she embraces the tears that gather. Eventually she steps forwards, placing the smooth, small stone on the crest of the headstone.

She rests her hand on the cool stone for a moment before sinking down and crossing her legs beneath her as she leans against it.

“I’ve missed you,” she says aloud, “I can almost hear you telling me to stop being such a sappy shit. I can’t help it, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

She pauses, letting the wind drift through the field sweeping her words away.

There’s no one else here but her and Sam, no one else she’d want to hear her confession.

“I wonder what you would have made of all this. I think you’d tell me to enjoy it all, to not miss a moment, and I’m not. I’m just choosing the ones I want to savour. And this is one of them, Sam. I wish you’d been there with me, you would have loved it, the cameras, the lights, everything.

“I have to keep pinching myself to know it’s real, I did it, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come and see you.”

She sighs, letting her head tip back to rest against the stone. She didn’t prepare anything to say, didn’t realise she’d even want to speak to the open air but here she is.

“I’m not the same Aelin as the girl you knew anymore,” she says after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t think I would have the capacity to love again after you but I did, and I feel terribly guilty that I do. I have to remind myself that this is what you would have wanted, you would have wanted me to be happy.”

The silence in the field is more than an answer enough. So typically Sam to give her an answer without so much as speaking a word.

“I was happy,” she says, trailing a fingertip along the words etched into the stone. “I will be again.”

A faint haze of sunlight drifts through the Orynth autumn clouds, a whisper compared to the chorus of brightness she misses in Rifthold, and she stands, brushing off the dirt from her jeans. She touches the stone one last time before turning and heading out of the graveyard.

Her visit was years overdue but her chest didn’t crack open the way she had expected, the tears hadn’t been relentless the way she had expected. She’ll visit him again the next time she’s back in Orynth, probably visiting Elide and Lorcan for Yulemass, and she’ll visit again and again for as long as she lives.

But for now, she has a plane to catch.

Months later and two days before the Oscars, when they’re all back in town for the ceremony held in her new home city of Rifthold, Fenrys throws another party.

She’s managed, this time, to stay in touch with Fenrys and Manon, having made up with the younger girl before the press cycle had finished. Aelin knows her upset was real but partly suspects the animosity was a front. She even finds herself participating in the group chat with the three of them and Rowan. She’s only texted him one to one once to wish him a happy birthday and they had caught up briefly but not texted since.

She’s missed him in a different way to the last time she missed him. This time missing him doesn’t feel necessary, it feels wrong not to text him, wrong to be away from him and she’s itching to see him again.

It’s no one's birthday this time but they’re all together again to celebrate, no matter the results they’ll see in two days. Aelin is very carefully measuring her excitement about her own nomination for best actress. Fenrys is up for best actor, Rowan best director and the movie best picture.

She’d almost dropped her phone in the toilet when she found out from Dorian a few weeks ago.

The party is small but still in full swing by the time she arrives. Big names from the industry, all in town for the ceremony, are scattered all around Fenrys’ Rifthold apartment. He’d bought a place here not long after Aelin and she’s secretly relieved she’s not the only one so moved by their experience.

She waves to a few people she knows and tries to stay calm when she spots Sartaq Khagan in the corner chatting away to a small group of people. Holy shit Fenrys has some famous friends.

Aelin finds herself a glass, tops her orange juice off with a splash of lemonade and begins her rounds. So many more people want to talk to her after the movie dropped.

Her mother had been one of them, and Aelin’s thumb had hovered over the accept button for a moment before decidedly pressing decline. She had blocked her mother’s number a moment later, and then she had made some calls closing the bank account her mother kept topped up and arranging for every penny she’d ever received from Evalin Ashryver to be paid back.

It had hurt, emotionally and financially, especially in the month she’d moved to Rifthold, but it had been worth it. To never let Evalin pass any judgement over her life again was a relief worth any cost. Aelin’s hoping there’s a possibility she could end up with a reward.

She doesn’t know how long she spends talking to big name after big name and it’s a realisation that drops onto her that she fits in here. Aelin Ashryver is a big name. No matter the outcome of the ceremony she has prospects, already a number of projects lined up and she’s loving every minute of it.

She drains her cup for the third time tonight and heads back into the kitchen. She’s barely seen Fenrys all night, and she doesn’t even know if Manon is here.

She frowns into the fridge, there was definitely a full bottle of orange juice in here the last time she topped herself up. She shuts the fridge and spins around.

“Looking for this?”

She should have known.

Rowan looks predictably gorgeous in the dim kitchen lighting. All tanned skin and silver smiles. He’s dressed in her favourite look of his too, worn denim jeans and a soft cotton shirt.

It’s the softness in his gaze that really takes her though, it seems the animosity from the last time they saw each other has faded if not disappeared. Her chest squeezes at the thought. She has no idea what could have triggered it but she will take it.

“Nope,” she says, stepping over to where he stands with an arm braced against the counter at his side, the other holding out a bottle of orange juice. “I was hoping Fenrys would have some chocolate in there but I guess this will have to do.”

She takes the bottle from him, her fingertips brushing his and she feels her cheeks heat at the innocent brush.

His smile is genuine and she knows what he’s remembering because she’s thinking of it too. The first time she visited his house during filming and their moment in the kitchen. They’ve been through cycles, she supposes, but hopefully now for the better.

“I’m sure we can find you some somewhere in here,” he says as she fills her cup, pulling open the cupboard next to his head.

Aelin smirks. “I’m going to leave the rummaging through Fenrys’ cupboards to you. You could find anything in there.”

Rowan winces, closing the door before returning her smile. This is friendly and the hope that’s been planted in her chest begins to sprout.

“Yeah, maybe not,” he says with a conspiratorial smile. “We wouldn’t want to risk it.”

Aelin pauses for a moment, taking in the glory of him in front of her. He’s still Rowan, he’s still tall and deliciously broad. His silver hair is slightly more grown out and there are a couple more lines around his eyes but she doesn’t care, in fact it’s charming. He’s still and always will be stunning. She takes a sip of her drink before she takes one of her biggest risks so far.

“I’ve missed you,” she says, not daring to look away from his face.

He bites his lip, his tongue darting out to soothe the skin before he speaks. “I’ve missed you too.”

The smile that spreads across her face is all too telling but he’s smiling too so she doesn’t think it matters. He definitely feels the same and she’d be annoyed at the months she spent worrying but the relief is too sweet.

“Good,” is what she says, far too happy they’re here to bother with pretending she’s anything other than ecstatic. “Congrats on your nomination.”

His eyes dart to the floor and then back up at her, he’s too modest about his own skill and Aelin adores it. “Thank you,” he says softly, “you too.”

“Thanks,” she says. “I couldn’t have done it without you. All of you.”

“Me neither,” Rowan says.

He’s close to her now, closer than he has been to her for months and her skin cries out for contact. She almost can’t believe she’s here now, talking to Rowan without any animosity, days before the Oscars that she’s nominated in.

The smile that takes over her face is completely of its own accord. She’s floating and it seems Rowan is too if the beat they share, exchanging incredulous smiles, is anything to go by.

“It’s crazy, right?”

She’s been asking herself the question for so long it seems only natural it slips out to him.

He laughs softly, and the rough sound curls straight to her core.

“Definitely,” he agrees, his voice low. “I don’t think last time felt like this.”

Aelin slaps a gentle hand to his chest and ignores the thrill that shoots through her at the eventual contact. “I get it, this is not your first nomination.”

Rowan rolls his eyes and she didn’t know how much she missed this, playing with him. She adores his reaction every time, the begrudging amusement he only lets shine through to make her smile.

“Some of us have never been nominated before, this is all completely new.” Aelin takes a sip of her drink. “I had to give up my social media accounts to Elide, it got so crazy.”

Something flickers over Rowan’s face at her comment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes darting across his face trying to decipher the expression. “She’s always had access and I still do so I can post if I want to but it just became a lot. It stopped being fun when I would see what people were saying, whether it was good or bad I don’t want to see it anymore.”

Rowan nods before his eyes lock onto hers, the intensity in his expression shreds her control.

“And you said nothing had changed?”

Aelin gets it now.

She shifts her weight, leaning as close to him as she can without sliding herself completely into the circle of his arms. “I was wrong. Lots of things have changed,” she says, her voice quiet but strong. “And lots of things are now right that weren’t before.”

She doesn’t mean to skirt around the truth, hiding in veiled words and double meanings, but as always, Rowan sees her. He sees her meaning and he smiles. It’s the most beautiful smile Aelin has ever seen him wear.

“I’ve been looking for you two.”

Fenrys bursts into the kitchen, startling Aelin back from Rowan. She hides her guilty smile in her drink and notices Rowan doing the same. Fenrys just grins, clearly enjoying whatever he thinks he’s seeing.

“You’re missing out, we’re playing kings in the living room if you want to join?”

Rowan glances at her before he turns back to Fenrys. “I think we’re good, thanks.”

Fenrys’ smile turns smug and Aelin resists the temptation to flip him off. She’s in too good of a mood to be annoyed at him.

“Okay, see you later, lovebirds,” Fenrys says, already on his way back out of the door.

Aelin pretends she isn’t blushing as she turns back to Rowan, his green eyes shining.

“This might sound crazy,” he says with an alluring tilt to his lips, “but do you want to get out of here?”

She’s reached a point she truly never thought she would.

She’s an Oscar-nominated lead actress in a box-office-record-breaking movie.

She’s happy, healthy and out from underneath the thumb of Evalin Ashryver.

The part that’s most uplifting, the part that has her unable to wipe the smile off her face as she strolls down the streets of Rifthold, is the arm she has tucked through Rowan’s.

They’ve been walking for a little while, enjoying the cool night air and the ease with which they managed to sneak out of Fenrys’ party. Her heels are killing her and Rowan very graciously offers her an arm to lean on and each time she takes a step in time with him she smiles.

“I never thought I’d like doing television,” he says.

She didn’t know he’d taken on a miniseries, similar to the one she’d done after filming, but she’s loving the recap she’s getting of the months they’ve been apart. The chill of the air is more than fought off by the warmth of Rowan by her side. The streets are mercifully empty and she can bask in the knowledge that it’s just the two of them out here, that they’re insignificant, that anyone who sees them will immediately dismiss them.

“I always thought I’d stick to movies, singular stories but I enjoyed it. I guess change can be good.”

Aelin laughs softly and squeezes his arm. He looks down to her, a question written in the slant of his brow.

“Change can definitely be good,” she says as she takes in the sights of the skyscrapers surrounding them. “I would know that I suppose.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I bought a flat recently.”

“You did?”

He’s so graciously giving her the floor to say what she needs to say and she holds his arm even tighter.

“It’s right here in Rifthold.” Aelin avoids his gaze, lest he think it’s a speedy invitation and that that’s all this is. “I bought it just after we were back here for press, I realised that I adore Rifthold and being here. I missed it when I wasn’t here and I don’t feel there’s anything holding me in Orynth anymore.”

Rowan laughs softly, his feet scuffing the floor.

“What?” she demands.

“I swear I’m not following you,” he says and she feels a smile creep onto her face. “I bought a loft here too.”

Aelin gasps. “But your house was gorgeous!”

Rowan’s smile twists as he looks away from her. “I didn’t say I sold the house.”

Aelin cackles as she squeezes his arm, the sound joyous and bright as it echoes around them. “I knew being Mr Big-Name-Director has its perks.”

“It does,” he agrees with a smirk.

Aelin wants to kiss that smirk. Wants to pull him down and twist her fingers through his hair as his own tangle along her skin.

Instead she says, “I copied you somewhat too.”

He only raises a brow.

“I bought a piano like the one in your house. It was too big for my old flat in Orynth and so I knew what I had to do.”

“That’s good,” he says as his arm drops out of hers. She almost pouts until he instead tangles their fingers together. Her smile says it all, reflected back in his own. “You play beautifully.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks are glowing. “You’ll have to come over and I’ll play for you sometime, neighbour.”

“I’d love to.”

Aelin slows, using the hand tangled with his to pull him to a stop too. Her free hand trails a gentle path up his chest before coming to rest at his collar, her fingertips tracing the golden skin peeking out from his shirt. His free hand finds her waist.

They’re close, closer than they have been in such a long time when he speaks.

“I don’t know what you think has or hasn’t changed.” His hand leaves hers to cup her cheek. “But I still feel the way I used to about you.”

Her heart takes off, pounding within her chest.

“I do too, Rowan.” Some of the easiest words she’s ever said to him. There’s something about the way the streetlights shine through the silver tips of his hair and the way his calloused fingers feel between hers that she’s feeling brave. “I loved you then and I love you now.”

His eyes flicker across her face as his smile dawns, taking over his face as he smiles so brightly. This is all she’s ever wanted, to have a Rowan like this, with pure, unfiltered happiness in his eyes as he looks at her.

“You love me?”

“I do. To whatever end.”

His lips are barely a whisper from hers and she only acknowledges the thought that they’re in public for long enough to realise she doesn’t care.

“And I love you.”

His words are simple, but sweet. They wash over her and settle into her skin as his lips land on hers. He kisses her with what she can only describe as love. His lips pour devotion onto her and his hands light a fire inside her as he tastes her tongue.

They kiss for longer than she can keep a track of, wrapped up together illuminated only by the street lighting. She’s missed this, missed him, and she can’t help but feel right when his hands are on her. She can’t help but feel right as she stretches onto her toes to throw herself into his kiss.

This was never wrong, this was one of the first things she knew was right.

She loves him and he loves her and nothing and nobody else matters.

She doesn’t win the Oscar, and neither does Rowan. Fenrys does and she screams herself hoarse cheering him on as he makes his way to the stage.

The moment that takes the cake is when The Crescent City takes best picture. She takes to the stage with some of her best friends to recognise what they achieved together and maybe she is a soppy shit but she definitely cries. Fenrys laughs at her and Manon grins but Rowan just throws his arm around her shoulders and it's worth it.

Afterwards, she logs into her Instagram account for the first time in a long time. She posts a picture of Rowan looking absolutely delicious with his tux unbuttoned and his bow tie hanging untied around his neck with a greasy burger in one hand and hers in his other.

Posting him is a statement but she doesn’t care. In fact, she wants the world to know. She wants the world to know that nobody does it like he does. Nobody does it like they do.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 8

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language? Warnings: None? I think? Please let me know if I missed something Notes: Bit of fluff with some anxiety/update on primary conflict. Next chapter will be a cute date with Dani, the one after that will be maximum h*rny, and then what will likely be the finale. Music for this chapter here. PS this one is a bit on the shorter side, but I hope y'all still enjoy it. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony

Chapter 8: Obbligato

(Obbligato: An instrumental part which is essential in a piece of music)

“Okay, okay, serious this time, please? I’ll give you a kiss if you try hard enough,” you promised, grinning up at Daniela as you did. A week had passed since your talk in the library, with the two of you spending most days together, and you were progressing nicely with the musical lessons. Still, your girlfriend (you would never get tired of saying that word) was prone to getting a tad ‘distracted’. By you, usually. Not that it was intentional by any means. There was only so much you could do to keep her focused when the two of you were this close together.

“I could just kiss you anyway,” Daniela teased, leaning in with familiar intent. Right before your lips touch, however, she pulls back and smirks. “But if you insist, I can handle the challenge.” Then she’s turning back towards the piano, carefully finding the starting position. Even with her prior experience, you were impressed with how much she had already learned, and couldn’t help but be immensely proud of her. If anyone could meet Lady Dimitrescu’s expectations within a three month timeframe, it was the two of you. Except, of course, you still had to double-check just what her expectations were.

In the meantime, you were excited to hear your girlfriend play through the sheet music you had written up. Most of what you were working with had come from the family’s storage room, but you had also found some blank sheets, and figured it couldn’t hurt to create songs of your own. This particular one was relatively simple. It had been based on a song from a game you had played years ago, and only posed a moderate challenge due to its interesting rhythm. Daniela had seemed to enjoy playing it, with you even hearing her practice the song outside of your lessons, but had so far today refused to play it seriously.

Finally that was going to change. Once she found the starting notes, she nodded to herself, then started playing. For the first time today her expression is stern, focused. Seeing her like this was nice. She was always cute, you just thought that she was extra cute like this. But you tried not to let yourself get too distracted, knowing that you couldn’t give her feedback if you didn’t pay attention. In your head you “play along”, fingers miming the movements, knowing that it would help you catch any possible mistakes. Throughout the piece there are only a couple that you catch, none of them being severe enough to ruin the experience. Finishing with a little flourish, Daniela returns her gaze to you, grinning expectantly.

“Well? I seem to recall you promising me a reward,” she said, perking a brow. Laughing a little, you roll your eyes, before moving in to give her exactly what she wanted. Both of you are smiling into the kiss, enjoying every moment of it. Soon enough Daniela is running a hand through your hair, and pressing against you more, tilting her head just enough to deepen the kiss. You’re blushing hard now, thoughts going everywhere other than music. It’s not until you pull back for air that you remember what you’re supposed to be doing right now.

“As wonderful as this is… we still have a few more songs to go over,” you murmured, despite how much you wanted to keep kissing Daniela. By the way she groaned in frustration, you figured she felt the same way, more or less. “Hey, don’t fret too much. Think of this as an opportunity to earn a few more rewards,” you teased, gently patting her on the shoulder. For a moment she simply pouts, but eventually she sighs and gets ready to play another song…

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

Rushing up the steps, practically two at a time, you desperately hoped that you wouldn’t be late. This was your third “update meeting” with Lady Dimitrescu, which by itself was enough to make you a nervous wreck. Add in the fact that this was the first time you’d be meeting alone? And in her personal study, no less? Well, it was safe to say that you were terrified. You hadn’t even been told why things were different this time. No, you were about as clueless as could be, given the circumstances.

By the time you make it your Lady’s study, you cannot tell whether your heart is racing due to stress or physical exertion. Regardless, you make it there in short time, arriving precisely at the scheduled hour. After taking a moment to settle your nerves, you briefly knock on the chamber door. There’s the sound of movement from inside before the way opens. Lady Dimitrescu has to bend a little to see out, but quickly smiles when she meets your gaze. Which was rather unexpected. The last time you had met with her she had been distanced, although still polite. Then again, Daniela had also been with you, and the focus was, as always, on her.

“Lady Dimitrescu,” you greeted, giving a short bow per customs. Then you were being waved in, brought over to a small sitting area, where you waited for permission to sit down. Once it was given, you relaxed a little. Maybe I don’t have as much reason to be nervous as I thought, you muse.

“Please, make yourself comfortable. There are no reasons for you to be unsettled, as far as I am aware,” Lady Dimitrescu said, smile disappearing for a moment at the end. But it’s back as quickly as it had vanished. Did she suspect something? Perhaps she had seen the way Daniela looked at you, or even overheard the whisperings of your roommates. Both thoughts do little other than renew your anxiety. Noticing this, Alcina frowns and shakes her head. “I was merely joking. Now, let us get to the reason for our meeting: How are Daniela’s lessons fairing? There is only so much I can glean from listening.” Glad to have something to think about other than your secret relationship with your boss’ daughter, you nodded and began explaining.

“Lady Daniela is making outstanding progress, in my opinion. Even with her occasional… lapses in attention, once she puts her mind to something, she’s quick to master it. At this point she can sight read nearly as fast and accurately as myself. However, we’re still going over vocabulary, as well as keys and their corresponding chords,” you answered, barely able to maintain eye contact with your employer. Thankfully, she seems to have accepted the inevitability of your nervousness. You were especially thankful now that you prepared to ask her a question. “My Lady, may I inquire about what specifically you expect from my teachings? If there are certain genres you wish for Daniela to be familiar with, or techniques-... I must admit I am unsure as to how to best meet your requirements.”

Slowly reclining in her chair, Alcina appears to ponder your question. In the meantime she sips at her beverage, holding the cup as if it were a fragile heirloom (which it could very well be), eyes looking into the middle distance. Then she gives a soft hum, setting her cup down and returning her attention to you.

“I suppose I can understand your concern. In some ways you have already exceeded my expectations,” she said, expression oddly plain in comparison to her positive phrasing. “My daughter has rarely invested herself in anything as much as she has in your lessons. For this, I am left wondering what she finds so captivating- the music, or the one who pulls the strings?... But that is not the answer to your inquiry, is it?” In that moment, you are incredibly still, willing yourself to keep a straight face, despite the racing of your heart. At your silence, Alcina perks a brow, expecting you to respond. You can’t, your mouth suddenly dry. “What I expect is a passion to educate, a drive to see my daughter flourish. I expect you to teach her exactly as much as she wants you to, focusing on whatever brings her the most joy. But I expect professionalism. Your duties come first, above your health, happiness, and all other desires. Am I understood?”

“Yes, my Lady. Of course, my Lady,” you replied, stuttering, eyes wide. Did she know? Or merely suspect?... There’s another thought, one you try desperately not to voice, only to hear the words fill the room before you can stop yourself. “May I ask where Lady Daniela’s desires fit into this?” Silence hangs heavy over the room for several seconds. Your employer has narrowed her eyes, lips curled downwards into a sharp scowl, watching you with thinly-veiled anger. All you can do is gulp and wait for her response. When it comes, you are surprised by the stability of her tone. It was almost as if she respected your gall.

“She is young still, with the mind of a lovesick maiden. Daniela does not know what she wants, not really, nor does she understand what she needs. If her… flirtatious nature begins to interrupt your instruction, then your response must be swift, and uninterested. Regardless of how unkindly she takes your rejection, I will ensure that she does not harm you,” Lady Dimitrescu said, giving a stern nod at the end. Though her tone was reassuring, you hardly felt better, considering you were far past the point of turning Daniela down (if anything, you had only turned her on). “Now, with that settled, I believe I should let you return to your duties. Oh, and do tell Cynthia that the tea she brewed was perfect, should you happen to see her.”

Then she looked away, practically ignoring your continued existence. So you rose to your feet, gave another bow, and left before your panic could devolve into a breakdown. Daniela is not going to be happy about this.

[gwynrielendgame]

Gwynriel antics

Okay writing from Mor’s perspective is actually kind of difficult. There is enough ambiguity around Mor’s sexuality in the series that I try to veer away from her perspective to avoid potentially problematic content. I do think that Mor would struggle when Azriel finds his mate/significant other because he’ll no longer be paying her much attention. At least not in the way she’s used to. Anyways enjoy

The first thing Mor noticed as she entered the living room was that Azriel was in a bad mood. He was brooding, more so than normal while standing in the far corner of the room by the piano. The only person brave enough to engage him in conversation was Nesta, who looked as bitchy as usual. Mor considered consoling him, but reconsidered as his shadows seemed restless. She would never admit it to him, though she presumed he might already know, but his shadows unnerved her. They would never hurt her, but something about them reminded her of the Court of Nightmares. She felt guilty and like a bad friend. The only thought that could console her was the knowledge that no one would be able to get him out of this mood. Nesta may be brave enough to face the mood head on; however, she would never be enough to pull him out of his own mind. It had always bothered Mor that nothing she could do or say would make him feel better.

"How was you trip?" Elain asked sweetly from the couch. Her frilly, pink dress made Elain's beauty less intimidating and more approachable.

She often wondered if that was on purpose. She was the complete opposite from Mor in every way, yet Mor felt grateful to her. Grateful that she had caught and kept, at least partially, the attention of the Shadowsinger. A jealous part of Mor was glad that Elain could not, although she speculated that Elain did not want to either, pull him out of his mood. Mor sat across from Elain on the other couch, taking baby Nyx right from Feyre's lap. Feyre sent a small smile to Mor before returning to her conversation with Rhys. Her legs were tossed over his lap with their sides pressed firmly together. Mor suddenly ached for what they had. The publicity of it, the intimacy of it, and the comfort of it all was something she wanted so desperately, but felt so unattainable. Mor dropped a kiss on Nyx's forehead as he pulled at her hair before answering Elain.

"It was fine. Politics can be so dreadfully boring," she rolled her eyes as she said it. Elain nodded along as if she might understand even though they both knew she didn't. Mor bounced Nyx on her knee to keep him preoccupied.

"Do you know what is wrong?" She lowered her voice while nodding her head in the direction of Azriel. Even though he was behind her, Mor knew who Elain was referring to.

"Your guess is as good as mine." She replied with a shrug. It was almost impossible to tell. Rhysand felt the need to add in his two cents, annoyingly enough.

"Leave it be, Elain. He likes to be left alone when he's like this." Rhysand gave her a hard look that Mor did not understand. Seemingly Elain did because she turned away to stare at the fireplace with a blushing face.

"The party is officially here!" Cassian shouted as he burst through the double doors into the living room.

Gwyn and Emerie, who trailed in after Cassian, made a beeline for Nesta who was still standing next to Azriel. Not so much conversing, but standing in solidarity to their bad moods. Cassian dropped a kiss on Nesta's cheek which had Mor rolling her eyes. She would never understand what a good fae like Cassian ever saw in Nesta. Even at her best, she was miserable. Emerie eventually floated over to Mor.

"How was your trip?" She awkwardly played with the end of her braid as she stood towards the side of the couch. She was clearly struggling with where to sit now that Cassian and Nesta took up the rest of the couch Elain was sitting on.

"Peachy. Dealing with entitled males is my favorite way to spend my time." She said it in an ultra cheery voice as she held up Nyx closer to her face. She was hoping his tiny baby body would block her blush. No need to let the Illyrian female know that Mor was flustered by her attentions. Emerie sent her a brilliant smile.

"So just a normal Tuesday huh?" Mor smiled back at her before moving over. There was a small amount of space between Feyre and Mor, but Emerie's slender body could probably fit.

"Would you like to sit?" Mor motioned to the spot. Emerie hesitated for just a moment before accepting. Her side was smushed to Mor's. She would be lying if she said it didn't elicit a spark in her.

Quiet murmurings in the back of the room drew Mor's attention. As she turned around she saw the priestess, whose name was on the tip of her tongue, talking with Azriel. Brave girl is the only thought that flittered through her head. They both had serious expressions as they discussed something quietly. It was so quiet that even with her fae hearing, she could not make out what they were saying. Azriel's shadows were moving rapidly around him now, making him obvious instead of blending him in like they were meant to be doing. Mor realized that Gwyn was holding a dagger that Azriel was showing her how to handle. He corrected her arm position a few times and she practiced it. Surprisingly, the brooding expression was replaced with one of concentration. He was more focused on teaching her than with whatever he was upset with. Mor cocked her head to analyze the two further only to be called back to attention.

"Mor!" Cassian all but shouted.

"What? Yes?" She turned back to the circle she was part of to see Cassian looking at her expectantly.

"I asked you how your trip was? I haven't seen you since you have gotten back." Cassian tossed an arm around Nesta's shoulder who was in an animated conversation across the couches with Emerie about some book they had both read. Mor was distracted for a moment. What could Emerie see in Nesta as a friend?

"Same old, same old."

Elain moved to grab Nyx from Mor's lap before reclaiming her spot on the ruby colored couch. Without the baby as a buffer, Mor felt exactly how nice it was to have Emerie so close, even if she was paying more attention to Nesta than herself. Elain blew raspberries on Nyx's face when a sound caught Mor's attention once again.

"Cassian!" The priestess, whose name Mor finally remembered was Gwyn, called as she dragged Azriel by the hand to the center of the room. Mor could not stop her eyes from widening and it appeared Elain, Feyre, and Rhys couldn't either. Mor even thought she might have heard a small gasp from Elain. "Tell Azriel that I really managed to escape that knot earlier."

Gwyn's face was barely containing her excitement. When they finally stood next to the couches, Gwyn dropped his hand gently, but did not move away from him. Almost the entire room was raptured by the scene. Azriel's acceptance of her hand holding, the shadows that appeared to guard the redhead as they peered over her shoulders, and the disbelief on his face that took over from the brooding as Gwyn insisted that she accomplished her goal. Cassian laughed while shaking his head.

"She is telling the truth. She's quite crafty with those ropes." Cassian admitted. Azriel's face continued to show his disbelief as he turned his narrowed gaze to Nesta.

"If you don't believe her, I guess she'll have to show you tomorrow." Nesta shrugged. Azriel sent a look to Gwyn that Mor could not exactly decipher. It almost looked like admiration, but there was no way it could be that.

"Why wait?" Gwyn started pulling Azriel back to the doors. "I'll show you now." Azriel allowed Gwyn to tug him around like a rag-doll. Mor could not stop the giggle from escaping her lips.

"Gwyn!" Emerie whined. "You promised you would stay until we at least ate!"

"Don't let her leave, Azriel!" Nesta shrieked. "She's trying to escape. You are not as clever as you think little missy." Nesta sent one of her nastiest glares towards the two escapees. Shockingly, it only made Gwyn laugh. She turned to Azriel with a slight pout.

"Please? I know you want to see it." She taunted him.

It appeared that those in the room who had not been to training had missed quite the development because as Azriel threw his head back in laughter, Mor, Elain, Feyre, and Rhysand jaw's all dropped in shock. It appeared the priestess was able to accomplish something that none of them had been able to in all their years of knowing the Shadowsinger. She was able to retrieve him from his bad mood. The shadows that seemed so territorial over Gwyn, now rested calmly around the both of them. It surprised Mor how unaffected Gwyn was by them. The interaction was so shocking that none of them could look away.

"You can show me tomorrow." He replied quietly with a smirk. Gwyn sighed but returned to the center of the room.

"Fine, you guys win."

Nesta and Emerie beamed at each other. Even as others recuperated from the shock, Mor felt herself analyzing everything Azriel did after that. Every interaction he paid to the priestess and how that was different from his interactions with her and Elain. She paid attention to how often he laughed and how his shadows acted. All throughout dinner she tried to understand it. What Gwyn could do that Mor could not. She wanted to know for next time, so that it could be Mor that made him smile when he was upset instead of Gwyn. The ugly, jealousy feeling made no sense. But there was a part of her that did not want to share Azriel with anyone, but especially with Gwyn. It was odd how Mor did not feel the same way with Elain.

"What's wrong with your shadows?" Elain asked innocently.

It was the wrong question to ask. The neutral face he had been sporting shifted into a scowl and the shadows retreated altogether. Before he could say something, Gwyn spoke up.

"There's nothing wrong with them. They just want to play." She continued to push her food around on her plate.

"Play?" Rhysand asked with raised eyebrows. He sent a look to Az. An annoyed look, one that rarely ever showed, crossed Azriel's face.

"They are not playing." He enunciated the last word, seemingly for Gwyn's benefit. She simply rolled her eyes as if the Shadowsinger's annoyance was no skin off her back.

"You are just jealous because they like me better." She sent him a mischievous smile before humming a short tune. A traitorous shadow lunged for her. It stopped short and retreated when the tune stopped.

"Gwyn." He whined. Mor ended up choking on her food at the sound. She has never once heard the male whine for any reason. Everyone at the table sent her an amused stare except for Gwyn and Azriel who appeared to be stuck in some sort of staring competition.

"Really, you two? You're worse than Rhys and I were when we were nine." Cassian muttered.

"3 books for Azriel." Nesta piped up.

"Are you serious? No way." Emerie argued in an adorably annoyed way. "Gwyn all the way. You owe me 5 books anyways. I want new leathers."

Mor made certain to note that in the back of her head.

"What are they doing?" Elain asked. Cassian shook his head in amusement.

"Staring contest. First to blink loses."

"Why?" Elain looked amused. Actually the entire table looked amused at their antics.

"Because they are the two most stubborn Fae to have ever lived." Emerie said with a smile.

The table went extremely silent as they watched the two battle it out. Mor was intrigued to see who would win. A thud under the table was the only sound to be heard.

"No playing dirty." Azriel said without so much as an inclination that he had just been kicked.

"You pulled my hair last time."

"Because you threw a dagger at me the time before. I'd say mine was much milder."

Rhysand laughed a loud and hearty laugh that caused the two of them to blink at the exact same time. Nyx clapped his hands at the excitement.

"Hey!" Gwyn and Azriel yelled simultaneously.

"Dammit." Emerie muttered.

"I'm claiming that win." Gwyn announced with a smug smile.

"Of course you are." Az sent her a glare, but there was no malice behind it.

He did not correct her though, allowing her to claim the win. It was then and there that it hit Mor.

Azriel likes Gwyn.

He isn't in love with her. He isn't pining after her. Mor isn't even sure if he knows it himself yet. But Mor knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he likes the priestess. The slithering jealous feeling only increased tenfold. She sighed heavily. What was wrong with her? She should be happy for her friend.

Shouldn't she?

[missmitchieg]

Hey, Don't Die

It started out as a joke.

It was always supposed to be a joke.

The boys weren't supposed to die on him. But he forgot to say it. It wasn't his fault! He got distracted by the pretty girl in front of him and their favorite little inside joke just slipped his mind. So he didn't say it, and now the boys were gone.

Or maybe it was his fault they were gone. Sure, maybe it was a coincidence that every time he did say it, they didn't die on him and the one time he didn't say it, they went and died. Or maybe it was some weird fortune or good luck charm.

Whatever it was, Bobby didn't think he would ever be able to escape that positively heart wrenching, soul crushing guilt of how he should have said it, or how he should have been there to run and call for an ambulance.

The first time he said it was to Luke. It was a joke. It was funny. Luke made a comment at the end of the day that he was going to his parents' house to sleep because his bed didn't give him that neck crick that his couch did.

With a laugh, Bobby patted Luke's shoulder and gave a little squeeze. "Alright. Don't die out there, though."

Luke cackled at that and shook his head, giving him a half hug. "I'll try, buddy. Love you."

"I love you, too."

They kept that joke going for a couple of weeks.

The next one he made the joke to was Alex. It was still a joke. It was still funny. Alex was just going to make a quick pizza run and come back.

"Be quick. Don't die." Bobby told him.

Alex smiled and ruffled Bobby's hair the way he knew he hated, waving as he walked out. "I won't, bro."

"You better not. Love you."

"Love you."

Then came Reggie. It was still a joke. It was still funny. They were on a 'friend date', as Reggie called it, to the aquarium. Bobby, Luke and Alex all wanted to watch the great whites in the shark tunnel, but Reggie wanted to go look at the jellyfish in the opposite direction of the sharks.

"Alright. We'll meet back up by the clown fish, then. Don't die alone in there." Bobby smiled and patted Reggie's cheek.

"I won't, Bobins." Reggie chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, giving his best friend a sweet smile. "Love you."

"I love you, too."

It had sort of become their thing after a while. One or two or all of them would go off somewhere without 'their Bobble' and Bobby would always, always tell them, whether it was with a smile or a faux serious look on his face. "Don't die."

Then came that day. July twenty second, nineteen ninety five. Bobby had been distracted by a very pretty girl with curly hair and sparkly eyes and had just forgotten to tell his boys his usual comment of "Hey. Don't die out there. I love you.", so he hadn't said it. And then he got a call. A call to tell him that his band, his best friends, his boys, were gone forever.

He was horrified when he realized what had happened.

What he didn't say.

What he didn't do.

He had broken down about it to his parents, who promptly suggested that he go to therapy about it. Something about how it wasn't healthy to think this way and he did nothing wrong and he couldn't have known what would happen and he needed to talk to someone about it. So he did. He went and he talked about the boys and how it hurt that they were gone and they were never coming back. But he never told his therapist about their thing, about what he would say to them when they left his sight.

He had also managed to become a rock star by means of some sleazy contract he hadn't been given the chance to read properly giving ownership of Luke's music to some company and Bobby had been forced to record the songs and pass them off as his own and keep the true writer a secret.

It was fine. Luke was gone. He wasn't ever going to find out what the contract had roped Bobby into. So he did it. Just not without a few breakdowns in between song recordings and e-mails to his therapist about emergency sessions. But it was fine.

So he went on like that, taking his boys' music and recording it in between breakdowns and therapy sessions and becoming a mega famous rock star, just like he had managed to convince himself his boys would want him to.

He grew up and had a kid. A little girl named Carrie, who was his absolute little pride and joy. A little girl who was never going to live in a garage, or eat out of the back of a beat up car, or get food poisoning, or anything that could harm her. She was going to have only the best health care and knowledge he could buy and teach her and she wasn't going to die.

The first time he had told her the thing, she was a little toddler, going to day care for the first time. She had been excited to go to day care and meet new friends to play with and he had been a wreck thinking of all the things that could happen if he didn't remember to tell her. So he made a mental note to not forget before he walked out the door to go to work.

He had walked inside with a little curly haired toddler on his hip and, with a smile, said to his little girl: "Carrie, love, daddy's gonna go to work now. You're gonna stay here a while and I'll pick you up when I'm done working. I love you. Don't die here."

Carrie had giggled at that and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, giving him a peck on the cheek. "Love you, daddy!" She said before he let her down and she ran off to bang on a brightly colored toy drum.

Bobby winced as he felt his heart clench in his chest at the sight of his little girl playing a drum, just like his old best friend. He bit his lip as he clenched and unclenched his fists and walked out to the car to go to the studio, where he would try and write a song as good as Luke's old music again.

No matter how hard he tried to channel the guitarist, he just couldn't. He couldn't write like Luke, because he wasn't Luke. And Luke wasn't there to help him. Wasn't there to chuckle and suggest a clever slant rhyme, or a metaphor that would work, or a cool melody that sounded like something Luke would write, but also that Bobby, no, that Trevor could play in his sleep.

He groaned in frustration as he and his team of four other writers just couldn't come to an agreement about which rhyme scheme to use for this song, and kept glancing at the clock until it was the time to go and pick up his baby from day care.

He walked inside and looked around for Carrie, hoping, praying that saying the thing worked, that he hadn't lost his little girl like he lost his boys. "Care-bear? Baby?"

"Daddy!" Carrie giggled and got up from where she was sitting on the floor watching a little curly haired girl slam her fingers against toy piano keys, running up to him. "Hi, daddy!"

Oh, thank God. "Carrie, there you are! My little girl! Oh!" He cooed as he scooped her up into his arms and hugged her tightly to his chest, pressing kisses to the top of her tiny, giggling head.

"Aww!"

"That's so sweet."

"Oh, what a good daddy!"

Trevor looked up and chuckled, shaking his head. "I just love my little girl so much. Come on, baby. Let's go home. We're having that yummy pasta you like for dinner."

"Yay!"

After that, saying the thing became his and Carrie's thing, just like it was his and his boys' thing. He would drop Carrie off somewhere or Carrie would be on her way to the bus stop to go to school, and Trevor would send her off with an "I love you. Don't die.", and his daughter would smile and salute.

"Daddy, I'm going to my friend, Julie's!"

"Ok! Have fun and don't die! Love you!"

"Dad, I'm going to school!"

"Don't die at school! Love you!"

"Dad, can I go to Flynn and Julie's sleepover on Saturday?"

"Sure, just don't die."

And they went on like that for years.

Carrie always thought it was 'just one of dad's funny quirks'. An 'overprotective dad' thing. Sort of like Marlin from that cute kids movie, Finding Nemo. Carrie would go somewhere without him for a period of time, and Trevor would worry endlessly until she came back, completely unharmed. Then came the hugs and kisses and comments of "There's my favorite girl!" from him.

Little did she know just how much her father was suffering. Little did she know just how worried he was when she would leave, how relieved he was when it sank in that she was fine, that it had worked again, just like it always did.

So sure, maybe it wasn't necessarily 'normal' to say that every time his daughter was out of his sight for any amount of time. Maybe he was still a little traumatized. Maybe he should bring it up to his therapist. But he was fine. He was fine, as long as she was fine.

He ended up admitting it to his therapist mid-session. "So I do this thing with my daughter." He started. "Whenever she goes somewhere without me, I always tell her, 'don't die, I love you'. It's-" He coughed and cleared his throat taking a sip of water to will the sudden lump in his throat away. "It's... Something I used to say to my friends before they died."

Dr. Born nodded and wrote something down quickly, gesturing for him to go on.

"I always tell her. I never forget to. Because the one time I did forget... Well." Trevor made a kind of 'you know, I just told you' gesture and shifted, pushing his hair out of his eyes like his Reggie used to.

"I see."

"I guess I think... If I don't tell her, something will happen. Something will hurt her, a-and she'll disappear like my boys did."

"That sounds quite stressful." Dr. Born had said, in his non judgemental, caring therapist voice.

"It is." Trevor admitted, a familiar anxiety bubbling up in his chest. "Because what if I forget one day? What if I forget one day-"

"Trevor." Dr. Born said, sensing an unhelpful anxiety spiral coming on.

"-and Carrie gets hurt? What if I forget to say it to her just one time and-"

"Trevor."

"that's the last time I ever see my little girl, just because I forgot to tell her not to die-"

"Trevor!"

Trevor winced at that and stopped fidgeting with the toy Dr. Born had advised him to buy for his anxiety years ago now, looking up at him. "Sorry."

"Clearly, you were very affected by the death of your dear friends." Dr. Born noted. "But, why didn't you mention saying that to your friends or your daughter before?"

Trevor frowned at the question and looked down, wringing his hands. "I... Don't know. I guess that part hurt too much to talk about, or think about." He said with a tilt of his head.

Dr. Horn hummed at that and nodded his understanding, taking another note.

"My parents told me to go to therapy to talk about losing the boys, and how much that was affecting me." Trevor started. "I didn't have the capacity, I guess, to talk about that, so I stuck to the boys."

Dr. Horn nodded again, still giving him the most understanding, non judgemental look.

"And I-I guess I just convinced myself telling Carrie that was normal. That worrying if I didn't tell her that, I would end up losing her like my boys, was normal." Trevor continued. "That saying it or not saying it was sort of like a telling of what was to come. Because until now, it has been." He explained. "Because every time I said it, the boys lived. The one time I didn't, they ended up in an ambulance. Every time I say it to Carrie, she comes home safe. What if it happens again?"

Dr. Horn nodded again and hummed, looking for the best way to reply to Trevor. "I won't lie and say that's a normal train of thought, or necessarily true."

Trevor sighed but nodded. "Fair enough."

"But I also know it would negatively affect you to just stop saying it cold turkey."

Trevor nodded again.

"I think, whenever you decide you're ready, and you don't have to be ready the exact next time that Carrie goes somewhere, you should try texting it to her when she's already out the door. And eventually stop saying it altogether."

Trevor considered the thought and nodded slowly, wringing the toy in his hands. "I- Should I tell my daughter what I'm doing? It might be weird for her to be so used to hearing that every time she leaves to suddenly not hearing it."

"Oh, good thinking. I think you should tell her. Though, I'll warn you, she might ask about why you're suddenly cutting out a tradition between the two of you."

Trevor nodded, scratching his neck. "What will she think of me when I tell her about it?"

"You'll never know until you tell her."

So he did. Six months after the fact. He sat Carrie down and explained to her that their 'fun dad joke' was going to change a little soon. He explained why he would always say it and about the boys. He explained that it was going to stop.

Carrie sat and listened intently as she processed what her father was telling her, giving him the tightest hug she ever had after he had finished, both of them in tears. She couldn't believe that her father had just been living with that pain for years, and mentally preparing himself for it to stop for months. Knowing all of this, Carrie Wilson was the most confident she had ever been that her father was the strongest man she ever knew.

So she walked out one day, just to get some fro-yo with the girls, and waited for a text from her father when she didn't hear their thing said out loud. It came when she was two steps out the door.

The next time came just the next day, when Carrie was on her way to school. Carrie didn't hear it out loud, so she waited for a text. It came five steps out the door.

The next time came when Carrie had a performance that Trevor couldn't be at. It was in the same direction as the studio, so he drove her to the venue, and Carrie felt a sad smile stretch onto her face as she heard him say, "I love you. Don't die."

Two weeks later, Carrie was going to a sleepover at Julie's for the first time in a long time. She smiled as this time, she made it all the way to the car before she got a text saying their thing.

Almost a month later, Carrie grinned as she walked out to go to school and didn't hear it, and never got a text. She came home that day, no feeling of sickness coming on or bruise in sight. She was fine.

And he was fine, too.

[blindbeta]

I just saw someone asked about making a character blind in their novel and you responded about ways to avoid it being portrayed poorly. I wanted to ask, could it also help if part of the arc is the character accepting becoming blind?

Like, even if it happens in some kind of accident, or like them becoming blinded as a sacrifice for the team, would it be a bad portrayal for part of the character's story to be realizing it's not the end of the world, that being disabled doesn't make them completely useless, etc?

Or is that sort of arc also ableist?

[Note: I used the words non-disabled and abled interchangeably here. Both refer to people with no disabilities. After a conversation with some of my followers, I decided to make an effort to be clearer about who I referred to when I used words like able-bodied, because able-bodied may, for some people, refer to people without physical disabilities or without any disabilities at all. There are times when the distinction matters, even when people said they can usually tell based on context whether or not able-bodied is meant to include them.]

Writing About A Character Accepting Being Blind After Going Blind - When You Aren’t Blind Yourself

An arc about a character accepting becoming blind doesn’t feel good to me and I’ll try to explain why.

I’d rather read a story about a character who happens to be blind, in whatever way that happened, than read a story where a writer who isn’t blind tries to write about a blind character accepting being blind. I just finished a similar book and it did not go well. There are some things that research cannot teach you. There are some stories that aren’t yours to tell.

I don’t want to read about a non-blind author, especially a non-disabled author, writing negative things about my disability.

A character starting out feeling overly negative toward their blindness already feels bad to me. Why? Because the author has to write negative, sometimes completely wrong things about being blind. When I read stories like this, I am bombarded with stereotypes or myths which are rarely corrected by the narrator, who is usually traumatized and somewhat isolated as they heal. Many of the things they think or say are not checked or revisited. Mean things other characters say or think about them are often internalized by the narrator. Things that, in real life, are said to blind and otherwise disabled people as truths. As tough-love. As part of the supposed -Real World-. As bullying. As ignorant, innocent questions. As rude comments.

All of these things are not even coming from a personal place. The author writing these things- while they probably don’t agree with them, of course- is still not blind at the end of the day.

Readers who aren’t blind may not understand the nuance of why some of the things they read were ableist if it isn’t called out in the narrative in some way, which can sometimes happen when the narrator says something negative about their new disability. This isn’t to say readers shouldn’t do their own research or examine the story more closely. This isn’t to say the author is at fault for the interpretations of readers who refuse to think beyond what is laid out for them. When I say this, I am being realistic. Not all readers are going to be proactive. Not all readers are going to approach a book about a person going blind from a good place.

Most of the time, this is just something the author needs to accept. It is impossible to anticipate the strange interpretations of every reader. However, this narrative can be dangerous to a reader who has never met a blind person. Keep in mind, most people aren’t doing what you all are doing. They just read what is given to them. And if what is given to them is a helpless or self-loathing blind person, they might believe in that image. That book may be the only expirience they have with a blind person and they may not read any other books with blind characters.

Another thing I thought of was that non-blind authors sometimes don’t understand how hobbies and skills translate to blind people. For example, in a story I read once, a character who was going blind practiced playing piano and typing on a keyboard blindfolded so they could learn how to do without sight. However, blind people can already play instruments even if they were born blind. Blind people can also easily type on regular keyboards and, technically, correct keyboard technique means typing without needing to look at the keyboard.

Authors who don’t understand what it is like to go blind often don’t get the nuances of what that person is losing and not losing. And it often shows. They also don’t often include the aspects of blindness that are actually challenging. Why focus your worry on typing on a keyboard when you can learn how to use assistive devices in the kitchen or learn to cope with anxiety you anticipate will get worse after losing vision? Why not try to find accessible copies of books you have or scan or Braille sentimental letters? Why not organize your closet so you can find things more easily?

Obviously this is related to characters who know they’re going blind, though.

It favors non-disabled readers, which is ableist.

Another reason this type of story bothers me is because it is so common. Or at least people expect it. This type of story is one abled / non-disabled people can swallow and feel inspired by. Showing the blind person accepting their blindness also favors non-disabled readers in ways I may not be able to articulate well.

Accepting disability is an arc non-disabled people are comfortable with. It is a feel-good type of story that usually doesn’t challenge people too much, other than to remind them not to bully people. Already, this story is not even for disabled people, or in this case, blind people. It exists to introduce people who aren’t blind to the idea of becoming blind, to blind technology, to inspirational ideas about how blind people actually can do things. Stories like this guide abled people along and prioritize their ideas about blindness. Because the narrator is almost always previously abled, the story is about adjusting to blindness in a way that caters to non-disabled people.

How does a story with this angle benefit blind readers? Even if a blind person has also recently gone blind and wants to see a character who on that journey with them, what can a writer who isn’t blind say that blind writer couldn’t say? Or say better? Or say with more power? With more nuancel? With more personal experience?

And it may seem like saying this arc is ableist is too much. Keep in mind, ableism isn’t just about being rude to or excluding disabled people. Ableism favors those who are able-bodied or neurotypical over those who are not. It favors those who are not disabled over those who are. This story is just another way of doing that. Often, people are ableist through what they consider kindnes. Authors are not exempt from that.

Disabled authors should tell their own stories

This is where I will get some pushback. (I already received some here if you think it will be helpful to know what this is like.)

There are a few parts to this.

First, I want everyone to know I am not telling you what not to write or that this type of story, at least with elements of this narrative, can never be done well. However, the more care you take when writing it and the more you know about why it can be ableist, the better you will be able to write it. I’m still not sure I would want to read a book that is dedicated to this topic of accepting blindness, but who knows?

I also might feel more open to this narrative from a writer who experienced becoming disabled in some other way and was open about it. While they would still need to research blindness, some of the issues I named here could be avoided through having prior personal experience that non-disabled people simply don’t have.

If, however, you find yourself upset or feeling excluded by this post, consider what I wrote again. Consider why you think you are the best person to tell such a story with this particular arc.

I am also not saying that non-disabled writers could never write this topic well. I just question, again, what they can add to the topic of accepting blindness that blind people can’t already add. This is also assuming they were able to avoid some of the issues I listed above that might come up. Which would be difficult on top of doing all the other research they need to do in order to write a book. Why make it harder for themselves?

Now that I’m done with the disclaimers, accepting blindness should be something mostly left up to blind writers. This narrative is so closely tied to the trauma-based / incident-based blindness that it can be hard to separate them, but I feel like the readers of the blog have thought hard to suggest ways to improve or subvert that trope and the problems that go with it. Maybe they can do the same here. Maybe not.

Anyway, the reason I think it should be left to blind writers is because of the personal experience I mentioned previously. Acceptance will come from a more authentic place. Anything that comes before the acceptance will also come from an authentic place and blind writers will know how to deal these issues a little better.

Blind writers will know how to write this topic well. They can center blind readers in a way that many arcs like this don’t.

As a side note, blind writers also need more recognition and attention. This arc is specifically about or mostly about accepting blindness, which blind writers are intimately familiar with. Their stories should be prioritized in this area, at the very least.

If a non-disabled writer decided to do this topic, I think it would help to read and public ally promote books and other works by blind people.

Thank you for asking this question.

This was a really great question and I want to thank the anon for asking. I really appreciate the chance to discuss this topic. If anyone wants to expand on this question or figure out ways to subvert this arc, feel free to ask. Also, remember that I am not authority on stories about blind people, but I feel this opinion in shared by many of us and it should be known so writers can be aware.

Suggestions for alternatives.

1. Include only brief instances of acceptance and / or make it only related to blindness instead of accepting blindness as a character arc.

It will depend on how you do it, but brief, less direct instances of acceptance could be done well. One thing I’m thinking of is Toph challenging her father in The Blind Bandit. This could be seen as a form of self-acceptance for Toph, one which is related to her blindness without being the entirety of her need to accept part of herself, which gives her the courage to disrupt the view her parents have of her. Toph doesn’t struggle with being blind. She struggles with something related to being blind, which her parents being over-protective, limiting her freedom and expression, and putting her a gender role box.

The rest of Toph’s story wasn’t completely about being blind either. The writers, who weren’t blind as far as I can gather, handled this part well, and so I wanted to include it as an example.

Obviously, this can also be done badly, but that’s what beta readers are for. I personally would prefer the acceptance arc only be tangentially related to blindness, especially when combined with the trope about going blind through trauma / incidents / accidents.

2. Start in a different place.

You could start the story or character arc in a different place, rather than starting directly after going blind. This could be years later. After they already adjusted to the bigger parts of being blind. This saves you the need to figure out how to get around it.

Some parts of this ask might help.

3. Focus mostly on the practical stuff rather than the emotional side.

Focus on things like cane skills, adjusting to using screen-readers or needing to increase font sizes to read. Focus on learning to cook. Make the arc less about emotional stuff and more achieving goals. While I can understand how this might bother some blind people, I think it can work if blind readers are consulted, especially readers who went blind later in life. I wanted to include this as an option just in case people are determined to include going blind in the story. I think, if the author is careful, it could go well. A few narrative justifications for not writing the typical acceptance arc include:

-the character was already blind in some way first

-the character has a blind sibling, parent, or friend they grew up with

-the character got counseling or the story mentions they are getting counseling

Alternatively, you could also focus emotional difficulties on the traumatic incident, if there is one, and not the resulting blindness.

4. Write different stories - expand what stories about blind characters look like.

Writers have so many opportunities! I don’t see why they would feel the need to write a story primarily about going blind and learning you aren’t useless now after all, when they could be writing about a blind mermaid challenging the Mer Queen and falling in love with her instead. When they could be writing about blind space pirates creating new technology for other blind people. When they could be writing about a blind witch reclaiming their sexuality and also learning to dance to make their coven less worried about their social life after going blind.

See this post for more ideas about expanding the typical stories.

If you are creative enough, none of my claims that certain topics being best left to blind writers should stop you. If you feel limited, you might be trapped in the idea that blind people only have one narrative: trauma, sadness, helplessness, and just maybe, acceptance. If you don’t feel limited, you are in a good place.

Blind readers want other types of stories, too.

I hope this helps some of my followers. Thanks for the interesting question, anon. If anyone has any questions or would like me to clarify something, feel free to ask. I wrote this at night when I was tired. I have missed some things.

-BlindBeta

P.S. The ideas I pitched at the end are free to use if you feel inspired by any of them.

[didsomeonesaydaddydraco]

Drive me crazy | Tom Felton one shot (smut)

Request: yes, by anon. 

Word count: 3,017

Pairing: Tom Felton x reader

Warning: sexual content, PDA, daddy kink, swearing, oral sex (female receiving)

It started as a stupid bet, and neither of us would have thought we would make it so serious. A month ago, Tom saw a stupid video on TikTok, where the couple wanted to see how long they can go without having sex. And of course he wanted to try it too. We both found it stupid, and thought we’d break after a week, but after eight whole days, we found a way to make it a little bit more spicy. Tom would come up behind me and kiss my neck while I was making breakfast, or I would go and sit on his lap in nothing but one of his tank tops. Small little things that we knew would drive the other crazy. We both tried to break the other and win this foolish bet. At first, I was actually glad that he found something that could make the quarantine life more interested, but when we reached the one month milestone in the bet, I knew we were both at the edge of madness. I had to do something. My body missed him, and I wanted to catch on fire when we were in the same room, yet alone in the same bed every single night. I would have gave up everything just to get my internal organs rearranged by Tom.

“Babe?” I called out his name. I heard the calming melody of the piano, and knew where I had to find him. I went to his little music room and watched how his long fingers ran on the keys. Tom always knew how to use those beautiful fingers of his. He looked up from the sheet music that was spread open in front of him and smirked at me. He knew very well what he was doing and he enjoyed seeing me suffer.

“Yes, darling?” His voice was low and he stretched his words. I had to bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from moaning. My eyes wandered back to his fingers that were playing a faster song now. 

“We need to go grocery shopping and I thought we could go to the mall real quick” I walked up to him and hugged him from behind. I slowly slid down my hands on his shoulder blades, down on his chest and leaned to his ear. My lips brushed his ear as a whispered in his ear “I’m in the mood of a little bit of shopping” I kissed the thin skin behind his ear and gently scratched his chest with my nails. I felt his whole body tensed under my touch. I smiled to myself, knowing that he was as famished as I was. He was in my hands, and I wasn’t going to give him any mercy.

———-

We were walking hand in hand in the mall, enjoying that we were finally out of the house, even if we had to wear our masks. Tom was talking about a new trick that he wanted to teach Willow, and I tried not to pour cold water on him by telling him Willow hated to learn new tricks, because she preferred play time and naps with her Daddy. My eyes were scanning the shops and the shopwindow, trying to find something that I actually liked, but all my previous plans about buying some new clothes for spring, and some new hoodies for Tom were long forgotten when my eyes caught a glimpse of my favourite lingerie shop. 

“Come” I dragged him with me. I knew all his weak spots, and one of them being Italian lingerie. Lord knows how many of it ended up in the bin just after hours of purchasing them. They made Tom go crazy and brought out the raw caveman in him, which always left me shaking in bed and not being able to walk properly for days. 

“Didn’t you buy this stuff last month?” He asked me with tilted eyebrows. He could be so daffy sometimes “Or did they end up in pieces?” I laughed and walked in to the store, with Tom closely following me. I knew what I wanted and what I had to do to get it, and I wasn’t planning to play a fair game with him. 

I walked around the store, looking for the most beautiful, most revealing lingerie that I could find. I was playing with the different kind of fabrics, showing Tom, asking him to feel it himself and imagine how good it must feel against my skin. With each set, his patience was getting smaller and smaller, and his actions became possessive - always blocking me from other male costumers who were there with their partners. I was dancing on very thin ice, but I wanted to break the ice. 

“I’ll go and try these on” I kissed his cheek sweetly, dangerously close to his lips. I went to the changing rooms with a few new pieces of lingerie and waited for him to catch up with me “Be a dear, and hold my bag in the meantime, yeah?” I smiled at him innocently and closed the door of the changing room. I hesitated about my choice, but I finally settled with a black, lacy set with a suspenders attached to the bottom. I let my hair out of the messy bun and checked my reflection. I was more than satisfied with what I saw in the mirror. The lingerie fitted perfectly, my hair was wavy from the bun and it covered my shoulders. My face was glowing, I had a little red colour in my cheeks and my eyes were dark from lust and the fire in them made them look like they were shining like stars on the pitch black sky. I slowly opened the door, and leaned to the frame, playing with the ends of my hair as a looked at Tom, who was sitting on the sofa, placed right in front of the changing rooms. He was doing something on his phone, but he dropped it the second he looked up and saw me. His eyes turned black from icy blue in just a second, and he was on his feet. 

“So” I smirked at him, straightening up and turning around so he could get a better look at my chosen set “What do you think?” As a response, he pushed me back to the changing room and closed the door behind him. He threw my bag to the corner and pushed me against the wall behind me. His hands were gripping my hips and his face was inches away from mine. I could feel his heavy breathing on my skin and the burning of his gaze on my body. This was the exact reaction I wanted from him. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer to me. His chest was pressed to mine and his thigh was between my legs, brushing against my aching core. 

“You drive me fucking crazy, woman” he growled in my ear and aggressively bit my skin on my shoulder. He was clever. He knew this game very well, and he still tried to win even though we both knew he lost the second he pushed me back to the changing room. Game was over, and I won our bet. And I knew my price was going to leave me shaking, screaming and unable to walk for days after this but it was so worth it “I want to taste you so bad” 

“Fuck this” I said and pulled him down to me. Kisses weren’t banned throughout the bet, but this definitely felt different than those. We didn’t care about it anymore, we just wanted to feel each other again. 32 days of abstinence was in that kiss. I felt his love, his lust, his struggle, his hunger and his desire. Tom’s grip got tighter and his kiss got deeper and more demanding. His hands wandered from my hips to my backside, smoothing his palms on the shape of it and grabbing it with such force it made me moan into his mouth. With this, he had the perfect chance to slip his tongue into my mouth and find its partner and ask it for a dance. I let go of my grip on his shirt and slowly slid down my right hand on his chest, his stomach and even more slowly on his abdomen until I reached him. He was already rock hard under my touch, and that deep groan that I loved so much broke out from him when I gently palmed him. With my left hand, I dig into his hair and pulled it slightly.

“Darling” he moaned and kissed alongside my jawline, his arms holding me closer than ever. I felt like a goddess under his touch. Tom’s hands left my backside and ran up on my back, straight to my hair. He pulled my hair with his left hand to tilt my head back so he could look into my eyes “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” His voice was deep and raspy, it was enough to push me into another dimension. Tom’s right hand grabbed my neck and held me in my place. He ran his thumb across my bottom lip and squeezed my neck gently, just how I liked it “You’ve been such a naughty little girl”

“Babe, please” I whispered and kissed his thumb, never breaking the eye contact. He was in my hands and I wasn’t letting him go so easily. Tom tilted his head to the side, his dark and dangerous side showing a little.

“Please what, princess?” He looked at me like a predator looks at its prey. My blood froze in my veins but blew up in just a second, under his gaze. I felt the heat rising between my legs and my knees seemed to be too weak to hold me any longer. Tom helped me to stay steady by locking my body between the wall and his body “Tell me what you want”

“Don’t be gentle” my voice was shaky. Tom cooed at me and brought his thumb to my lips, forcing it between my lips. I gently sucked on it and closed my eyes, imagining all the things I wanted to do to him and all the things I wanted him to do to me right there and then. 

“What else do you want?” His lips were on my neck, leaving wet kisses and bite marks all over my skin. He was trying to push me to my edges. He was controlling me, and I was happily obeying him, which turned him on even more. He lived for being in control and being dominant in the bedroom, and I was perfectly submissive for him “Say it, baby girl”

“I want you to push my knees apart and paint my thighs with purple kisses” my eyes were begging him. Begging for him to ease my pain and make me feel fully alive. I wanted to scream his name and hold onto him while both of us came down from our highs. 

“Such a good girl” Tom was satisfied with me. And when he was, he always rewarded me with something “Daddy fucking loves you” he whispered in my ears and let go of my neck, sliding down his hand on my chest, grabbing my breast, massaging it while his lips kissed me with passion and hunger. Tom’s hands were exploring my whole body, they were everywhere where I wanted him the most. 

“Tom” I whimpered under his touch. I was craving him and I had enough of the teasing. I was burning inside and needed him to let me cool down “Do something, damnit” he looked amazed by my sudden demanding and bold tone. His fingers finally found my genitalia and hummed at how wet I was already. He slid his finger in the black lace thong and stroked slowly between my folds, pushing on my clit to make me go crazy. He started moving his finger painfully slow on my clit, pushing on it harder  after a few strokes. He was fast to cover my mouth with his free hand to dim my moan when he suddenly pushed two fingers in me. Tom moved his fingers in a steady pace, not letting me to close my eyes. 

“Quiet, baby girl. We don’t want anyone to find out what we’re doing, do we?” He whispered in my ear and bit my earlobe gently. I nodded slowly, my eyes shutting at the pleasure of finally feelings his hands on me again. Tom pulled his finger out and brought it to my mouth, touching my lips with it “Now suck” he ordered and my lips parted automatically at his tone. He pushed his finger in my mouth, watching with a satisfied look on his face as a sucked on it “That’s it, darling. Now be a good girl for daddy and stay quiet”

“Yes, daddy” I whispered and leaned my head on the wall, closing my eyes and enjoying the wet kisses on my skin what Tom left on me as he slowly moved down on my body and kneeled in front of me. He pulled down my soaking wet undies and threw it to the other end of the changing room. He slid his hand up on my calf and grabbed my right leg and placed it on his shoulder. My hands found their way to his hair and pulled it softly when I felt his lips on the inner side of my thigh. He planted open kisses on it, biting on the thin and sensitive skin, sucking on it to leave his mark on my body for him to admire his work of art later. 

“So soft” he spoke in a low voice and kissed along my bikini line “And so wet” he blew on my clit which made me shiver from pleasure “All for me” Tom’s praising was melody to my heart and soul, and it just made me want him even more if it was possible. His lips pecked my skin, slowly finding their way to my core. I had to bit my bottom lip to stop myself from screaming a little when I finally felt his warm tongue flicking my clit and diving inside of my fold while his lips closed up on my clit. His hands were grabbing my thigh on his shoulder, and the other pushing my hip to the wall, forcing me to stay still. My back arched at the satisfaction and my fingers were tangled in his hair, pulling on it with every gentle stroke he left on me. 

“Look at me” I almost sobbed when Tom stopped for a bare second just to order me and bite on my skin again “I want you to look at me while I’m eating you out” I obeyed his order, knowing very well if I didn’t, he would have stopped “God, you taste so fucking good, princess” 

“Don’t stop” I whimpered and pushed his head back which made him chuckle darkly, but chose to give me what I wanted. He let go of my leg and teased my slit, drawing small circles, before spitting on it and pushing them inside without any warning. His fingers were hitting the right spot every time and he double my pleasure and joy with moving his tongue on my clit quickly. My breathing became heavier and quicker as I was getting closer and closer to reach my high. It was impossible to stop myself from shaking and pushing my lower parts to his face. He looked perfect between my thighs, with his fingers deep inside me and his tongue spelling the most beautiful poems on my clit, while his dark eyes drowned me in “Fuck, Tom” I hissed. He sped up the movements of his fingers and gently bit on my clit. The suddenly came slight pain pushed me to the very edge and my eyes rolled to the back of my head. I covered my mouth from moaning his names loudly. It was a torture, not being able to show how amazing he felt. 

“Come on princess, come on my face” his breath tickled my pussy as he spoke “Be a good girl and come for daddy” he bit my skin above my Venus mound. His fingers curved inside me, making me see stars from pleasure. He harshly sucked on my clit, pushing his warm and strong tongue on it to give me the full satisfaction. His voice, his look, the way his fingers literally conjured me and a month without having him inside me was enough to completely destroy me and push me to the land of pleasure. My leg gave up and Tom had to hold me while I rode out my high on his face. I felt his smile on my skin and he cleaned me up with his tongue, enjoying the taste of me. He slowly pulled out his finger and brought it to his lips, licking my juice from them and smiling at me darkly. 

“Get dressed” he kissed me sweetly, but I could feel the hunger in it “We’re going home. I’m not finished with you yet” he said and tucked my hair behind my ear “I want to hear you scream my name” he whispered in my ear “I want you to shake under me and beg for me” I swallowed hard, already feeling myself getting hot just by his words. He gave me my clothes and turned around to leave me alone to get my clothes back on, but he suddenly turned around before he exited the changing room “And I’m buying all of these” he said and grabbed all of the lingerie that were still untouched and hung on the clothes peg. By the time I was ready, Tom already paid for the different coloured and different styled lingerie and was waiting for me impatiently in front of the store. It was safe to stay, we didn’t left our bedroom for the rest of the weekend. 

[sometimes-love-is-enough]

re: your last ask about the time travel shenanigans—holy fuck yes please more of this. like, not only is it funny as hell, which i appreciate, but it's also a. more c!thomas and b. points to just how interestingly both the plot and characters of this series have grown over the years and i am ALL for it

"Janus!" is the first thing Thomas exclaims when he sees the Side Formerly Known Exclusively As Deceit rise up where Logan would usually stand. Which just might be a mistake, if Janus’s expression is anything to go by.

Okay, in Thomas's defence -

This is a really, really weird day, even by his standards. Because, like, Logan's currently standing in front of the stairs, and that's not where Logan's supposed to be, and his shirt and tie are all wrong. And had had been grinning. Openly. He had been openly grinning when Thomas had first woken up and looked in his wardrobe and realized that his favorite t-shirt apparently doesn't exist anymore and all his clothes are a half-size smaller than he's used to but also they still fit and - okay, no, back to Logan. He'd gone downstairs and tripped over a chair that wasn't supposed to be there and called out Logic. And he'd been about to ask him what's going on and why everything feels so off and also why Logan's standing in Virgil's usual spot instead of over to the right of the stairs. But then he'd noticed all the aforementioned Very Weird Clothing Things. And he'd stopped and said, "Uh, Logan?" and Logan's grin had dropped and he'd stared at Thomas for a full ten seconds then whispered, "what the fuck," with great emotion.

And then Patton had shown up with a ridiculous amount of pun-riddled cheerfulness that Thomas had been able to clock as sixty-percent fake within about half a second. And his clothes had been all wrong, too, and after a lot of confused, borderline-incomprehensible yelling at each other, Roman had showed up and added to the chaos.

"I am scared and confused and on the verge of completely losing it!" Thomas had declared at some point, which had been the cue for an ominous music sting somewhere to Thomas's right that made everybody jolt in terrified unison.

"Did somebody say scared and confused and on the verge of completely losing it?"

"Virgil, thank god!" Thomas had practically yelled, and just about thrown himself across the room to get to him - before pausing midway and allowing his brain to process... wrong hoodie. Wrong amount of eyeshadow. "Wait. No, hang on, is this - "

"FUCKING WHO," Virgil shrieked, leaping backwards half a flight of stairs, which had led to another round of confused yelling, with Thomas trying to assure them all that he's fine he hasn't had some sort of strange head injury or whatever, he's just really happy to see Virgil and no of course that's not weird, what do you mean who's Virgil, that's Virgil right over there, Roman please put down that sword things are already out of hand -

And at some point Thomas had got it into his head that the most reasonable course of events was to summon the one person who always seems to know everything that everybody else doesn't, which brings everything up to speed, more or less. Roman had gone, "Thomas, what are you doing," and Thomas, feeling slightly manic at this point, had said, "I'm trying to summon a demon, obviously," because the best way to get hold of a certain someone probably is blatant lying, and boom, instant Janus.

"Jeee-sus Christ on a cookie-shaped canoe, what is he doing here?!"

"Janus!"

So, Janus pops up, he looks literally the same as he always has (except maybe with shorter hair? Wait, they all have shorter hair, including Thomas, wait a second -) with his half-snake-face and his hat and gloves that cosy-looking capelet of his. And although his expression reflects faint bewilderment and that very particular 'wait, what' emotion that results in being pulled abruptly away from something you were busy with, he looks so normal that Thomas thinks for a moment he might be the only sane person left.

But then Janus makes a series of start-and-stop noises of incomprehension, and gestures wildly towards Virgil, who's crouched midway up on the stairs behind Logan, looking like a cornered wild animal, and snaps, "Why for the love of everything that's holy would you tell him my name?"

"You think this is me?" Virgil retorts, hands going up to grab desperately at the bars lining the side of the staircase. "I don't understand anything that's going on! He somehow knows my name! He's - he's being nice to me!"

It suddenly occurs to Thomas that this might just possibly be a time travel sort of thing. It would explain the clothes shift. And the altered layout of his house. And the fact that when he'd checked his phone this morning it had told him it was 2016, and also it hadn't been his phone, it had been the one he'd broken a few years ago in a tragic piano-moving-related accident.

...Okay, yeah, this is absolutely a time travel thing.

"Is somebody going to explain why Thomas ruined all of our heartfelt name reveal moments in one fell swoop?" Roman demands. "I thought we agreed we were going to do them gradually and draw them out as long as possible for dramatic effect!"

"I agreed to none of that," Virgil snaps from his position halfway up the stairs.

"Yes," says Logan, "yes, I think we all would like to know what's going on. Thomas? What's going on?"

"Uh - " Thomas, who has just come to a rather startling realization about time travel and also about how shitty his Sides' taste in costumes were pre-wardrobe change, doesn't really have a prepared answer for this. "I have... I am - I just - "

Thomas struggles for words. Really struggles. And everyone's just standing there, watching him with expressions that range from terror to confusion to suspicion, and they all look so weirdly young in a way that's hard to pin down. It's the clothes. It's probably the clothes, or maybe it's the way they hold themselves. Roman, carelessly confident, without a doubt in the world. Patton, still wearing a fixed dad-grin, politely baffled and looking back and forth. Logan, who hasn't been systematically beaten down and pushed back over the course of many, many years. Virgil, who's basically just a ball of grey-and-black anger and acerbic anger at this point. Janus, who's... Janus. Who's looking at him in a way that Janus has never looked at him before.

And Remus is probably lurking somewhere in the back of his mind, too, doing whatever Remus does, and - would Remus be any different now, four years prior? Thomas hadn't had any significant problems with intrusive thoughts, not back then... or, well, back now. Maybe he's calmer, maybe Thomas could actually talk with him. Try to work something out, try to understand.

But wait, he's still got to give the Sides right here and right now an answer.

Hm.

...Thomas has been through a lot in the past four years. Not, like, fantasy protagonist a lot, but more like a extended psychological journey of self-discovery and mental health crises. Now, he wouldn't trade any of this for the world, because he's learned a hell of a lot about himself in the process - but also? The Sides have put him through a lot of horrifying realization-type things.

Which is why he absolutely one hundred percent deserves to do what he's about to do next.

"I," says Thomas, with an extraordinary amount of confidence and self-assuredness, "am psychic."

And the dead silence holds. Now even Patton is staring at him in disbelief. Janus has graduated into outright horror, his face twisted up into a oh god no I am somehow responsible for letting him delude himself this far expression.

"Thomas!" Roman gasps, almost instantly lighting up with genuine enthusiasm. "Oh, Thomas, I'm so proud, we've been working on this for years. Tell me, does this extend to telekinesis, or just somehow knowing all our names and nothing else?"

"What?" Janus says. "What - no. No, you can't seriously be going along with this - what? That... what? That doesn't even make any sense?" He turns wildly from left to right, and - okay, it's very enjoyable to see him out of his depth, to be perfectly honest. Thomas likes Janus a lot, knows he has his best interests at heart, but the whole courtroom thing had been a major dick move. This is satisfying. "Are any of you getting this? Does anyone here understand what's going on?"

"I'm psychic," Thomas repeats doggedly. "I acquired magical psychic powers and now I know all of your names and tragic backstories. Surprise! I unlocked my full potential and the ninety-percent of my brain power that I wasn't using."

"That's - that's a widely-perpetuated and wildly incorrect myth," Logan says weakly.

"Nope. Turns out it's true, and I was only using ten percent of it, and now that I've gone full big-brain, I know that Patton's repressing all his bad feelings because he doesn't want to bother anyone with them, Virgil acts all scary and menacing because he thinks it's the only way that I'll ever listen to him, and Janus is secretly a huge dork with a heart of gold - uh, yellow, I guess."

"How dare you," Janus breathes, looking horrified.

"Wha - " Patton suddenly looks very pale indeed.

"Also, Roman, you're my hero; Logan, please never stop smiling like that ever again, it's literally my favorite thing in the world and if you ever stop being enthusiastic about teaching me things I will cry - and Virgil, I love you."

Virgil lets out a choked little noise like he's just been punched directly in the stomach.

"I love all of you," Thomas adds, an afterthought. "I never say that enough. Janus, that goes for you as well. You're right, I need to take care of myself more."

"I'm - " Janus is still looking around at everyone in complete disbelief, but now his gaze fixes onto Thomas, his eyes wide. "I'm what?"

Thomas is now on a roll. An extremely cathartic sort of roll. "And Remus -"

Everybody immediately panics. Virgil and Logan's hands both immediately leap up to clasp over their mouths, which seems to be a reflexive reaction on Janus's behalf. Patton lets out a deranged-sounding high pitched giggle that edges into genuine hysteria.

"Brother? What brother? I don't know what a brother is!" Roman says loudly. "I've never had a brother in my life! Thomas, your glorious psychic powers are malfunctioning. Have you tried turning them off and turning them on again?"

" - I'm not going to lie and say I love him, but -" Thomas stops abruptly, and staggers  backwards to catch himself on the couch as a thought strikes him out of literally nowhere. "Son of a bitch -"

"Does being psychic make you swear a lot?" Patton asks weakly. "Because, uh. Not sure I like this side of you, kiddo - "

"Logan," says Thomas. "Logan, what's the date today? This is so, so important, what's the date."

"It's... October," Logan says, very slowly. "October twentieth. 2016?"

"Holy shit," Thomas whispers, and then says it louder, "holy shit. Okay, listen. I was going to sort out all of our collective psychological issues in one impressive emotional speedrun, but I've realized we have something much more important to do." He pauses, and takes in a very deep, shuddering breath. "Guys. We can save Vine. Excuse me. I've just realized I’ve got to make a lot of calls."