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#my talented baby sister i fuss over way too much
robininthelabyrinth · 3 years
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CQL-Verse: Wen Ning did a whole lot of risky stuff saving JC and the bodies at Lotus Pier. What if NMJ hears and gets talked into helping protect him and the Wen remnants by the Jiang bros, because even if he's a wen, he still 1. whole ass poisoned wen chao 2. straight up commited treason and was punished for it to protect sect heirs and 3. is extremely baby brotherable. you can fit so much h/c into this bad boy
ao3
Untamed
1
Wen Qing was angry about the trials, but Wen Ning thought they made a reasonable amount of sense.
After all, how was the rest of the cultivation world supposed to know what they did in the war without a proper trial? It was only reasonable for them to make certain assumptions about them based on their surname, the same way everyone assumed that those surnamed Jin were rich, those surnamed Lan were beautiful, those surnamed Jiang were bold to the point of arrogance…
The Nie were supposedly known for their tempers, but Wen Ning hadn’t seen much evidence of that so far.
In fairness, his only experiences with a Nie were, firstly, with Nie Huaisang at the Cloud Recesses, which he was fairly sure didn’t count, and now, during the trial, with Nie Mingjue.
Nie Mingjue laughed the entire trial.
“You poisoned the wine,” he sniggered. “At their own celebratory feast…! And then you just went straight to Yiling, where your sister was in charge. And it still took him how long to find you?”
“Weeks,” Wen Ning meekly admitted.  
“Can we go back to the bit where you saved Wei-xiong from the giant dog beast using stolen needles?” Nie Huaisang asked.
“No, we cannot,” Nie Mingjue’s deputy – a somewhat long-suffering looking man that they all called Meng Yao – said. “He’s already gone over it four times, Huaisang.”
“But –”
“No.”
“Spoilsport! Look at how much fun da-ge’s having; it’s not fair.”
“He’s the sect leader. If he wants to hoot like a shrieking monkey, he’s entitled to it.”
“I’m not hooting,” Nie Mingjue protested. “I am recognizing talent.”
“Talent.”
“Exactly. Talent.”
“At…what, exactly?”
“Causing trouble,” Nie Huaisang volunteered. “I recognize it from Wei-xiong, I could spot it anywhere.”
“Could we possibly proceed with the trial?” Meng Yao asked, obviously deciding not to continue with that discussion. “We have six more to finish today. Can I assume that given the evidence of Wen-gongzi’s subversive activities and his subsequent imprisonment throughout much of the Sunshot Campaign, he is absolved of all crimes and allowed to go free?”
“You spoilsport,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes at him. “Yes, I think so. Wen Qionglin, you are free to go your own way – though if you wish to stay here in Qinghe as a guest cultivator, we would be glad to have you for however long you wish.”
Wen Ning thought that sounded all right.
2
The Nie sect were known for their tempers, and justly so, but Wen Ning quickly figured out that he didn’t need to be afraid of Nie Mingjue’s occasional outbursts (quickly roused, quickly doused) or Nie Huaisang’s temper tantrums (petty) and occasional grudge-holding (rarer but much more dangerous).
No, Wen Ning figured out very quickly in his first weeks that the one to be afraid of was clearly Meng Yao.
Wen Ning had been weak and sickly his whole life in a sect that valued strength above all; he had survived hiding behind his sister, but she couldn’t always be there for him, no matter how she tried. He’d soon learned that surviving on his own meant being quiet and obedient, never making trouble or drawing attention to himself, and it also meant being extremely attuned to the minute expressions that might signal the difference between Wen Chao being angry enough to throwing a teacup at his head and being angry enough to order him to be taken outside and beaten until unconscious.
The same skills helped him in the Nie sect, where people were very often angry. Wen Ning could tell the difference between Nie Mingjue raging to let out steam (moderately common and generally innocuous, easily ignored) and being actually upset (typically only dangerous to the furniture, which was a nice change, but more worrisome in the sense that he might go and do something stupid afterwards), and he could tell that Nie Huaisang’s true anger, so rarely triggered, tended more towards the cold and hidden (definitely a sign he was going to do something, but unfortunately for everyone involved it’d invariably be far more malicious - enough to make you long for stupid).
He could tell that Meng Yao was, despite all his smiles, very often angry.
Like Nie Mingjue, Meng Yao’s temper was easily roused to the point of fury; like Nie Huaisang, his anger lasted a long time and usually called for some malicious action before it could be properly assuaged.
“Senior Meng,” Wen Ning tentatively said one day when his curiosity got to be too much for him. “Could I ask a rude question?”
Meng Yao’s temper, hidden deep in his eyes, flared at once, preemptively, and Wen Ning shivered and looked down at the ground. He had known what he was risking, but he hoped that asking permission in advance might allow him to get the question out with minimal reprisals – cold meals for a few days, perhaps, or being assigned to the training yard only when the most sadistic training-master was supervising, but only for a week or so.
“Of course, Wen-gongzi,” Meng Yao said, and he sounded nice and pleasant and like no question could possibly be rude enough to cause him any disturbance. It was a little frightening how good he was at that. “I can’t imagine what you would want to know that would be rude.”
“Are you related?” Wen Ning blurted out. “To Sect Leader Nie, I mean – his family –”
Meng Yao stared at him. His mouth was slightly hanging open.
“…it’s a stupid question,” Wen Ning concluded, feeling ashamed. Of course Meng Yao had been promoted entirely on merit; it was only his imagination getting away from him. “I’m sorry. I’ll go –”
“No, wait,” Meng Yao croaked. “Related – to the Nie sect – forgive me. How did you reach that conclusion?”
“I mean, you’re obviously treated as part of the main family,” Wen Ning pointed out. There were plenty of Nie cousins that weren’t treated anywhere near as well; both Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang were not only protective but almost possessive over Meng Yao’s time and dignity - surely by now everyone knew that the surest way to get them each angry in their own ways was to slight Meng Yao. “You wear Nie braids like them – you wear clothing like them – you have a temper like them –”
Meng Yao started laughing.
“…did I miss something?”
3
“I’m surprised you didn’t go to the Lotus Pier after you’d been absolved,” Nie Huaisang said, tapping the weiqi piece on the board a few times before making a move. “Given your fondness for Wei-xiong and all that.”
“Wei-gongzi’s very nice,” Wen Ning said vaguely, staring down at the board. He’d played a lot of weiqi in his life – including against Wen Ruohan when the man had still been remotely sane, mostly because he’d been the only one stuck back at the palace with him more often than not – but playing against Nie Huaisang required all of his attention. The first time he looked away, he’d get lured into a trap. “Very kind.”
“And yet you stay here,” Nie Huaisang prompted. “In Qinghe, with us, when even your sister picked the Lotus Pier.”
Wen Ning had never been without his sister this long before. He knew that she still expected him to come to the Lotus Pier. She hadn’t expected him to last the week without her; she’d said as much when she first went, huffing at him for being ridiculous – a Wen as a guest cultivator in the Nie sect, of all places? – and telling him, in between reminders to take his medicine on time, that she’d prepare a place for him there so that he would be comfortable when he arrived.
Her letters, in the weeks and now months since that time, had never overtly asked when he was going to finally get around to moving there, and had recently developed an almost quizzical tone, as if she’d finally realized that he wasn’t.
“I like it here,” Wen Ning said, and moved his piece.
Nie Huaisang moved his own almost immediately in response, which meant that Wen Ning had made a horrible mistake that played straight into Nie Huaisang’s hands. Not an uncommon occurrence. 
“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “We like having you here, too.”
Surprised, Wen Ning looked up.
Nie Huaisang was smiling at him – he smiled nearly as often as Meng Yao, but unlike Meng Yao, he never smiled if he didn’t want to, so his smiles were actually sincerely meant each and every time. He had a wide range of smiles: nervous smiles, cheerful smiles, devious smiles…
Wen Ning was good at reading expressions, but he had to admit he’d never had to work as hard at it as he did with Nie Huaisang.
“We’re a very nice sect, really,” Nie Huaisang said, and even seemed to believe it. “We’re always open to people who are like us. The only thing we can’t tolerate is injustice and betrayal; as long as you stick with us and put us first, you’re ours, and we’re yours.”
That sounded nice, Wen Ning thought, and moved a piece blindly. “You think I’m like you? My sister doesn’t think so.”
“I think you fit in very nicely,” Nie Huaisang said, and his smile had teeth to it. He moved quickly, again. “You’re angry and resentful, but you don’t let it get in the way of what you want - just like us. Your sister probably doesn’t think that about you, either, but then again, that’s why she’s in the Jiang sect, with their heads in the air, dreaming of the impossible. I bet she never even noticed that you had a temper.”
She hadn’t. Wen Ning had been her baby brother and nothing else for a long time; he never had to defend himself as long as she was around. 
He’d never had the chance to defend himself.
(He didn’t resent her for that. He didn’t. She was his big sister, his favorite person, and he loved her so much that he didn’t mind the way that all her fussing sometimes made the world feel cramped and small, as if he were being forced into a place that he’d long since outgrown.)
“Do I have a temper?” he asked, and moved another piece.
“Oh, yes,” Nie Huaisang said. “You’re like me – slow to boil – and like Meng Yao, hiding it behind your eyes. You’re even a bit like da-ge: you don’t need to be the one get the frustration out as long as something deals with it, but if nothing does, it nags at you and wears at you, like a thorn stuck in your flesh, until you can’t be silent any longer. Until you have to do something, or else you’ll explode.”
That sounded about right, Wen Ning thought. He’d never really had a chance to explode in the Wen sect, out of fear of what they’d do to his sister if he did, and he’d been sick with it – he’d limited himself to little rebellions, nameless pranks, right up until he met Wei Wuxian, who was kind to him, and couldn’t stop himself from helping him. He sometimes thought, in the days he’d spent in the dungeons, that if he died he’d come back as a fierce corpse, soul-calming rituals or no, and he’d might even enjoy it if only for the opportunity to finally vent his feelings – to finally pay back every single injustice that he’d ever seen, each one marked down in his heart in an indelible list of regrets.
Maybe Nie Huaisang was right. 
Maybe that was why he stayed here, in the Nie sect, the sect of do not tolerate evil instead of the Lan sect’s chivalry and righteousness or the Jiang sect’s attempt the impossible.
Maybe he wanted to fight back for once. To have a temper, to have rage, to be something more than Wen Qing’s shy, stuttering shadow.
“I like it here,” he said again, but if his words were the same then the flavor was different: he meant it this time.  
He understood, this time, what he meant by it.
Nie Huaisang smiled at him and moved another piece. Winning the game, Wen Ning noticed.
“Good,” he said. “Now move over – sit in front of the mirror. I’ll show you how to do your hair right.”
“Really?”
“Really. Also, Da-ge’s been practically champing at the bit to teach you saber, and Meng Yao has been making grandiose plans about redoing the way we recruit and train doctors with you leading the charge, so if you’re not up for either of those, now’s the time to say something.”
Wen Ning settled down in front of the mirror.
“No,” he said. “Those sound good to me.”
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sidespart · 3 years
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The Fall of King Romulus Part 2
Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...
Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus
Pairings: Mostly Platonic LAMP and all the found family feels. Could be read as pre-slash. 
Prologue     Chapter 1  
“Young Sir! Come look at this! A beautiful gift for your sweetheart, no?”
Logan bit back a curse as Roman, once again, slipped form his side and almost skipped towards the merchants stall.
They had finally left the forest earlier that morning. Barley a quarter- mile beyond the tree line the path merged with the great eastern road, already heaving with traders wagons heading to Steveange for the monthly market. Roman had gone to work immediately, finding an exhausted looking couple and charming them into exchanging a ride in the back of their cart for a selection of songs to soothe their gaggle of bored children.
Even Logan, no lover of music, could admit that Romans voices was objectively pleasing. Even the wailing baby settled down under the effects of his lullaby.
The closer they got to the city gates the more densely packed the road became, to the point where their pace might have been improved by walking. But the rest was welcome and the sun was still high in the sky by the time they had finally made it to the city square. They might even have made it to their target in good time, had Patton not insisted that they stay to help the family unload every box and crate from their cart before moving on.
Patton stood nearly seven foot tall, with shoulders to match and the patience of a Raspanzean monk. Moving him when he had decided not to move was difficult at the best of times.  Currently, with a good deed in need of doing and no less than three small children clambering all over him, it was going to be impossible.
Logan looked at Virgil for support.
Virgil was already manhandling the smallest sack of produce down from the cart, under close supervision of a surly looking nine year old.
Logan looked back at Patton. Patton had somehow acquired a fourth child, and was swinging the small boy gently back and forth with one giant arm.
Logan sighed.  
Eventually they agreed that Patton and Virgil would stay to help the family, and then set about finding the four of them somewhere to sleep. Logan and Roman would head down the main street, complete their mission and return with, hopefully, enough coin to let them settle here for at least a weeks rest.
Which Logan would have no problem with. Except that the monthly market seemed far larger than when Logan had visited the city as a young apprentice. The city square was packed with stalls filled with meat, produce, spices and enough live animals to generate a stink so strong even Patton and his twice broken nose winced. The main road meanwhile was filled with more temporary looking stalls offering books, jewellery and potions of every colour alongside the usual clothing and home wear. These continued the whole length of the road from the square to the city temple and even spilled over into the side streets and thoroughfares of the city proper.
All of which apparently meant Roman couldn’t walk for more than two minutes without stopping to gawk at whatever gaudy display was on offer or chat with the seller.
“Roman!” he caught up with the wayward bard at a jewellers stall, where a heavy set man with salt and pepper hair was holding up an extremely impractical looking necklace for him to inspect
“Oh there you are specs” Roman grinned at him, “have you seen Master Galvenets wares? Look how shiny!”
“Is this your sweetheart?” The jeweller – presumably Master Galvenet – grinned at Logan with far too many teeth and reached below the makeshift counter top, “Then may I suggest this one instead – to match his  eyes?”
The necklace he presented was even bigger than the last. With blue glass masquerading as the sapphires surrounded by enough ostentatious filigree to decorate a dukes bed chamber. Logan stared,  momentarily struck dumb by his own disdain.
Roman nudged him, waggling his eyebrows and giving him a lecherous grin “What do you think sweetie? It does match your eyes.”
Logan blanched. Turning quickly to the seller her snapped out “We are NOT together. And also - we’re, extremely poor. And not interested.”
He grabbed Roman’s wrist and proceeded to drag the giggling bard with him back towards the main street. “Can you try to focus?” Logan glared at him, “remember this package is time sensitive.” Superstitiously, Logan patted his pocket, feeling the shape of the vial they had been entrusted to transport to Steveange still safely stored inside.
Roman failed to look chastened. “Logan, it’s a herb. And we we’re asked to deliver it within a week – it’s only been five days! Your forest short cut worked, alright, the worlds not going to end if we stop to appreciate some fine wares on our way.”
Logan raised an eyebrow. “You consider Master Galvenet’s works, ‘fine wares’?”
Now Roman had the grace to look a little sheepish “They had a charm of their own.”
Logan hmphed. “They were very clearly fake.”
“Oh?” Roman linked their arms together, tugging him back into the steady stream of south bound shoppers, “How could you tell?”
Logan told him.
The ensuring lecture took them the rest of the way down main street, and into the rabbit warren of alleyways that branched out behind the city’s temple.
Even here, there were traders. Many had their wares spread out on blankets on the ground instead of stalls, but they seemed less inclined to call over whilst the two of them walked together deep in discussion and so, mercifully, there was less opportunities for Roman to get distracted.
“A festival?” Roman suggested. Logan shrugged, it was possible, something was certainly occurring to draw such an enormous throng.
Eventually, Logan had to admit that his boyhood memories were not enough to navigate every twist and turn of the city streets and Roman stepped away from him to ask a couple for directions. Logan took the chance to study him, but whatever fit of irrationality had led to him wandering back through half the forest the previous night seemed to have past. Even the scratches on his hands and arms had healed almost completely overnight, helped along by a generous slathering of healing salve from Virgil.
(Logan had, at the time, pointed out that the healer was using up rather a lot of their  dwindling supply for an extremely minor injury. Virgil had hissed at him)
Roman was often contradictory. He would spend a day whining about his need for beauty sleep but then stay up till the early hours to fulfil every song request from whatever crowd they managed to gather. He fussed with his makeup and performance clothing as much as a lady at court, but kept his hair cropped unfashionably short and made no effort to seek out high class patrons who could have kept him in silks and finery. He was talented enough with a lute to spend the social season entertaining upper class lords, and talented enough with a sword to spend the rest of his time as a body guard or becomes some towns local hero. Instead he travelled with them.
“You know, I’m fairly sure there were some gentlemen painting miniatures on the main road, if you want to keep staring at me that is.”
Logan flushed, caught. “Don’t be insufferable.”
“You don’t pay me enough for that” Roman grinned cheekily.
This was an old joke. Virgil had originally found Roman, and hired him as a body guard and escort for a three day trip through a bandit ridden mountain pass. Three weeks and many diversions later, they had emerged on the other side of the mountain. Roman had become as much a part of the group as any of the others and had stayed to travel with them as a friend rather than a hire.
Logan was glad of it. Most of the time.
“Did you get the directions?”
“I did, I had to ask three people before I found someone who recognised the address – the city’s full of tourists!”
 *
 The woman who opened the door looked like the word crone ha been invented especially for her. Her grey hair stuck out from a shoddily tied scarf and her face looked like at any moment it might collapse under the weight of her own frown. She scowled at the pair of them, looking like she already learned everything there was to know about them from one glance and found it all spectacularly unimpressive.
“What do you want?” She snapped.
Logan resisted the urge to smooth down his waistcoat like he was presenting to a lecturer and stepped forward.
“Good afternoon. We have been sent by Madam Valarie to –“
This, if anything, seemed to make the scowl deepen.
“My sister? What does that witch want?”
“To deliver you …this”
With a flourish Logan produced the vial and held it aloft. The thin shaft of light spilling from the doorway made the red herb glow a burning orange in the dim of the alley.
“And you think I’m dramatic.”
“Shush.”
Needlessly dramatic or not, he had the woman’s attention. She reached towards the vial with trembling hands but Logan drew back before she could make contact.
“Your sister paid us half, with the promise of the second half on delivery.” Reaching into a different pocket  he produced an envelope and held it out. “She told us to give you this – it should validate our story.”
The woman muttered something decidedly uncomplimentary under her breath but accepted the envelope. Without speaking further she turned and retreated into the hovel, leaving the door open behind her
The two men exchanged a glance, and then Roman deftly stepped around Logan to walk in first, one hand on his sword.
He needn’t have bothered, the short hallway opened up to small kitchen, where every conceivable surface was covered with books, scrolls and bric-a-brac. Three of the four walks were taken up with shelving where kitchen ingredients and appliances sat shoulder to shoulder with  ornaments, candles and what looked like half a taxidermy ostrich.  
If the old woman had hired muscle ready to take to leap out and take the herb by force, they would have had a hard time finding space to stand.
“My sister claims this was picked under the glow of a full moon.”
Logan nodded, “that is what we were given to understand.”
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “For this to be worth the price it needs to be used within ten days of the moon’s glow, my sisters village is two weeks ride away on the eastern road.”
“We came through the forest.” Logan explained, “Also, I sealed the herb in a pre-sterilised sample jar – the lack of air exposure should help it retain its freshness far beyond its normal time frame!”
The was a silence. The woman was now looking at Logan not with suspicion, but with the exasperation of a teacher whose student has just said something rather stupid.
Logan crossed his arms.
“If you look at the specimen carefully you will notice no discoloration or other signs of degradation – this method can be used to prolong the lifespan of most vegetation and-“
She interrupted him by laughing, an awful crows call of a noise, and held up a hand for silence.
“You are obviously quite uneducated.” she told him cheerfully “And you are bothering Mittens.”
“I beg your pardon I- wait what?”
“YOWCH!”
Logan spun round, as much as he could in the cramped space, only to find Roman desperately trying to relinquish a scrambling ball of fur back onto one of the high shelves. The cat had already dug its claws deep enough into the bards wrist to draw blood, and was currently clinging on for dear life as Roman waved his hand around like Patton trying to kill a spider.
“My apologies Master Mittens” Roman told the cat a few moments later, after Logan and the crone had  finally convinced it to release him “I thought you were a hat.”
“Why must you touch things.” Logan hissed and was surprised by a much gentler laugh from their hostess.
“Aw now,  Mittens is not the most dangerous thing you could have touched in my kitchen. Here. Drink.”
Logan blinked as she shoved hot cup into his hands. Its contents was extremely dark and disturbingly viscous. A few drops glopped over the side, singeing his finger. He held it as far from his body as he possibly could.
“And for you?” She held up a second cup towards Roman who smiled politely but shook his head ‘no’
“No thank you, Madam.”
“We’re both fine.” Logan said firmly, putting the cup down on one of the first patches of exposed surface he could find. “If you wouldn’t mind completing our transaction we will take our leave of this…place.”
She looked at him for one long moment and then turned back to Roman.
“Your friend says you passed through the Serpents Forrest”
Logan frowned - “That’s not what the locals called it.”
“Well that’s who lives there.” The crone snapped without turning around, “One of the darker fae. I’m not surprised he” – she jerked her chin back towards Logan – “ got through alright, since the gods look after fools.”
“Excuse me!”
“But how did you manage?”
Roman juts shrugged, eyes sparkling with mirth at Logan’s outraged expression. “We saw no one Madam, but if we had done - I carry iron.”
That rusted hunk of junk Logan thought, but the crone was nodding approvingly
“A clever boy” she patted Roman cheek, “I thought so when I heard your accent – you’re from beyond the mountains.”
Logan frowned. He was not gifted when it came to interpreting expressions, but he thought Romans smile had suddenly become very fixed.
“So are you.” Roman replied softly.
There was a moments quiet whilst the two looked at each other and Logan tried not to roll his eyes out of his own head. All they needed to do was a simple swap of coin for produce and instead Roman had manged to find the only other grown adult in Steveange who still believed in fairies.
Whatever northerner to northerner communication was happening seemed to pass, and the crone reached past Roman to pull a small burlap sack from the shelf. Mittens took the opportunity to skitter across her arm and settle himself on her shoulder.
“Here you are then.” She tipped the sack out on top of an open tome, producing three cloves of garlic and a hefty pile of coins Logan couldn’t help but stare. That was more money than Logan had seen in one place since he had started traveling.
The crone picked out three gold pieces and a fistful of silver and handed them to Logan. He counted quickly and handed her the vial. Transaction complete, Logan headed immediately to the door, but turned back when he realised Roman wasn’t with him
He was still trapped between the crone and the shelving. “Will you come and see me before you leave the city?” she asked “It would be nice to share my tea with someone who would appreciate it.”
Logan thought to the gelatinous mess in the tea cup and gagged but Roman just smiled
“If time allows my lady.” He brought her withered hand to his lips and deposited a courtly kiss before sidestepping her and heading after Logan.
The city alley smelt almost like fresh air after the over mixture of incense, garlic and cat that her permeated the crones kitchen, and Logan breathed it in gratefully before setting off. Roman falling into sept beside him.
Logan glanced at him, uncertain.
He knew Roman was from the Northern Kingdom. He guessed from his speech patterns that he either grew up upper class or was truly committed to his larger than life bard persona. He had mentioned a brother once, off hand, and during an argument compared Logan to a tutor he’d disliked who had made him study maps until he could recount every river on the continent by heart.
That was all he knew.
Logan was curious by nature, a trait which tended to get him in trouble. He would have liked to pepper Roman with a hundred questions about life beyond the mountains, but Patton had told him once he should only ask a question about a sensitive subject if he was prepared to answer one himself.
None of them like to talk about where they came from, but that was fine. They were going forward together.
It was obvious though, that meeting his countryman had shaken Roman. He walked silently, even when they turned into a wider street and found the market still in full swing, shoppers crowding around each stall, he made no comment, only stepped closer to Logan.
If he was Patton, he might have known what to say to sooth whatever emotion was clouding Romans features. If he was Virgil, he might have made a joke or pointed out an interesting stall  to distract him
As it was..
“So do all Northerners believe in fairy stories or is it just you two?”
“What?”
“The dark fae of the forest? She can’t have been serious.”
Roman straighten up, fixing him with a mock glare “Logan! You’re honestly going to keep pretending you don’t believe in magic? You travel with an elf!”
“Half-elf. And there’s nothing mystical about him.”
“He makes potions Logan!”
“He mixes herbs into useful medicines, it’s no different than any human herbalist.”
“He chants when he does it. And his eyes do that thing.” Roman wiggled his fingers in front of his face, apparently to illustrate ‘that thing’.
“Which I’m sure helps him know how long each concoction needs to stew before adding the next ingredient. You cannot decided a race is magical just because they’ve failed to invent clocks.”
“Urgh!” Roman threw up his hands, “Sometimes you sound like you’re from Arkaze’yed.”
Arkaze’yd was on the western coast. The most industrially advanced of the great cities, they had recently converted the city temple into an extension of the university.
Logan preened. “Thank you for the compliment.”
Roman pulled a face. “You are such a - ooh! Jam tarts!”
He darted away again, but this time Logan couldn’t fault him. A boy was hastily unpacking a crate of what looked like fresh jam tarts onto his masters stall and the scent was delicious
They had to wait for three families ahead of them before they could finally have their turn. Roman picked out four of the tarts and chatted happily with the seller whilst Logan carefully counted out the money.
“I had herd the monthly market of Steveange was something to behold but this! Are you going to go all night?”
“Most likely.” The trader told them happily, “The towns packed for the coronation.”
“Coronation?”
“Princess Stephanie is to become queen,” the man gushed, one hand over his heart in what Logan considered to be an alarming display of emotional royalism. “The guests have been arriving all week.”
Logan nodded absently. That explained the hubbub. The rich went traveling and the poor went to see them. A coronation was a good enough excuse for a festival. If you liked that sort of thing.
“They say,” the trader whispered leaning forward, apparently unbothered by Logan’s total lack of interest in royal gossip, “That even the mad Prince is coming - Remus of Notaleveale!”
“Is that so.” said Logan, monotonously “Here’s your coin.” He turned to Roman to claim his pastry and – stared.
All the colour had drained from Romans face. He gaze was fixed on the trader, his eyes so wide he looked quite wild.
“Roman?” Logan asked, as gently as he could. He realised that Romans hands were shaking the second before the bag of pastries fell from his grip.
“Roman- ROMAN hey-“
Other customers were starting to push between them, Logan bent down quickly to rescue the bag form the floor and reached out to grab his friends hand.
But when he looked up, Roman had gone.
Part three
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obeiii-mee · 4 years
Note
Hi there! Im back, tysm for doing my HC ;;/ it was super cute, i really liked Mammons and Satans!! If you dont mind if i ask for another? Hdjsks Recently, i slipped while walking home with some pals and scrapped my knee. It wasnt too bad, but it sure looked bad lmao If you can could you do HCs for the boys reacting to MC slipping and scrapping there knee while walking w them? Im sure Mammon would have a heart attack hfjd Tysm!! Keep up the good work♡
Thank you so much! I hope your knee gets better and that it wasn’t too painful! The brothers would all be panicking in their own way but I agree, Mammon would faint or something lmao.
Hope this was OK.
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The Brothers with an MC who fell and scraped their knee:
Lucifer:
-It was a miracle you managed to convince him to come out on a walk with you at all
-The man doesn’t know when to take a break from his work
-He’s more likely to accept if it’s you asking tho, he has an obvious soft spot for you
-The others call him a suck up behind his back because of it
-You were so happy that you managed to pry Lucifer away from his desk, you were basically skipping alongside him
-Long story short, you tripped over your own two feet and fell
-Luckily, your knees and palms were the only things that got a bit scruffy
-Well, actually your right knee looked as if someone tried removing your entire knee cap with a scalpel, skin and all but adrenaline was kicking in and you couldn’t feel much
-You’ve never seen Lucifer freeze the way he did then
-His mind just drew a blank
-You were about to shrug it off and call it a day, get up and continue your walk but daddy Lucifer can’t have that
-He has six younger brothers (and a younger sister at some point) he is pretty experienced when it comes to treating injuries
-You aren’t walking for the rest of the day, let me make this clear
-He will carry you back to the House of Lamentation no matter how much you protest
-In case it wasn’t obvious already, Lucifer gives off massive dad vibes and now he’s bandaging your leg while you’re laying down on his bed
-While the rest of the brothers watch the two of you from behind the door frame because they are all equally worried
-Get ready for the three hour lecture coming your way
-He’s pissed and amused at the same time tbh
-Silly human, falling over like that and hurting themselves
-Lord Diavolo forbid you try to get out of that bed, he will drag you back and make sure you stay there until your knee is better (kinky)
Mammon:
-He was on his merry way to the casino to blow off all of Lucifer’s money and you tagged along solely for the purpose of making sure he didn’t spend all of Lucifer’s money
-You’d both be done for if he did
-But I guess fate really had it out for you on that day since your foot slipped on....something and you tripped
-Both of your knees looked bloody and damaged as hell but you were more irritated than anything
-Mammon on the other hand did a fucking double take and almost passed out
-He screeched his lungs out
-One look at your injured knees and he was ready to drag you all the way to the human realm on foot to find you a doctor
-“MC ARE YOU OK WHY THE FUCK IS THERE SO MUCH BLOO-HOLY SHIT STAY STILL DON’T MOVE! THE GREAT MAMMON WILL FIX THIS...SOMEHOW.”
-It was very dramatic, he cried
-You stood up to prove that you were alright because you thought he was going to have a seizure soon enough
-OK, that helped him calm down a little
-At least now he knew your legs weren’t about to get torn off and you weren’t on the verge of death
-Fuck the casino, you were going home
-Like Lucifer, don’t expect you will walk home by yourself
-He will carry you, a bit embarrassed by his initial freak out but still eyeing your wound, concerned
-As soon as you get home and the other brothers help you out because he’s shit at bandaging, he just sits in his own pool of misery and guilt
-Your poor knees wouldn’t be so jacked up if you hadn’t come along with him today
-He was so determined to make it up to you, he stayed by your bedside like a loyal puppy with a wagging tail (flashback to the animal event)
-Overall, he almost went into cardiac arrest and was too panicked to realise you were fine
-You thought he was smothering and overprotective before? Good luck for the rest of the week
Levi:
-“See, this is why I don’t like going out. There’s always some normie laying on the groun- OH MY LORD DIAVOLO, MC IS THAT YOU?? ARE YOU OK?”
-HIS HENRY ALMOST DIED ON THE NEWLY POLISHED FLOOR OF AN ANIME CONVENTION, HE HAS VERY MIXED EMOTIONS
-You fell knees first and hurt them quiet badly but you could stand, even if the pain made you twitch a little
-This confused Levi because you looked fine even though your knees certainly didn’t
-You told him you felt alright and it wasn’t that big of a deal and he absolutely rolled with it
-But you guys still went home after that
-He said it was because you bled all over your cosplay but that’s just him being a tsundere
-Levi is usually very shy when it comes to physical contact but he firmly insisted that he help you walk home
-I mean, he knows you said you were feeling OK and maybe humans just have a lot of tolerance for injuries like that
-But he still felt it was necessary that he took you home and checked out your injuries
-He kept the mood light while disinfecting you’re wound with some help from Satan by talking about how the convention went
-High low-key relieved seeing you walk around like normal two minutes after that
-He started bitching to you about how you made him miss his the event but he didn’t mean any of it
-“Stupid normie, making me miss my favourite Ruri-chan event. You’re lucky I love you and think you’re cute....did I just say that out loud??”
Satan:
-Oh dear, why would you go out for a walk in the middle of a rainstorm? What were you thinking?
-Actually, it was Satan’s idea
-He may be a demon and the prince of Wrath no less, but he is such a sappy, cheesy bastard at times
-He definitely thinks that walking and kissing in the rain is very romantic (bet he read something like that in an erotica)
-You know what’s not romantic blondie? Slipping on a very small puddle and potentially fracturing your leg
-It was just a scraped knee but you were frustrated enough to be extra
-He’s helping you up before you even have the chance to realise you fell in the first place
-Your knee was looking pretty bad so you guys went home just to avoid any further casualties
-He’s actually chuckling all the way back while you playfully glare at him because how dare he laugh at your misery?
-Date night was ruined but at least he got to take care of you
-He knew your knee must have hurt and he felt bad but he couldn’t help but giggle a bit to himself because your fall was so comical
-Ah but he does enjoy fussing over you for the rest of the night a bit too much
Asmo:
-You thought Mammon was melodramatic?
-Take a look at this fucking guy
-He actually screeches even louder than his brother and probably falls to his knees too (but not really because those pants were expensive)
-His screams definitely got the attention of at least 10 random passerbyers
-He’s actually on the verge of crying
-I mean, can you blame him?? Look at your beautiful knees!! They were ruined
-He felt so bad for you, he actually babied the hell out of you that day
-“Asmo, it’s fine. It’s just a scrap.”
-“A SCRAP, MC IT LOOKS LIKE YOUR KNEE IS ABOUT TO FALL OFF YOUR POOR SKIN-“
-It was just a scrap but Asmo’s secret talent is being extra as fuck
-He totally spilled all the tea to the rest of the brothers when he got home
-And then he ushered you into his room
-Funnily enough, he’s pretty good with injuries. Not as much as Satan and Lucifer but still
-He pampered you for the next few hours but that image of your skin being all grazed like that will forever haunt him
-How can you not be so bothered by it?? He’d die if he was in your place
-I love Asmo just because of how dramatic he is
Beel:
-Your shoelaces were undone and of course that meant a fun little trip to the floor of Hell’s Kitchen
-Beel didn’t notice you fell at first, he was concentrating on his food and assumed you were next to him
-But then he realised that you weren’t and for a moment he thought you disappeared or something
-Before he turned to find you laying on the floor, curled up because life was pain and you were suffering
-“Are you OK? Or are you just tired? Belphie does that a lot when he’s tired.” Or depressed one might say
-But for real, he’s good at identifying serious wounds and less serious wounds since he’s an athlete
-He can tell your knees were bleeding way more than they should have from just a simple scrap
-He slinged you over his shoulder and carried you, calmly, back home, with a burger still in his hand
-He’s actually really collective and talked to you while cleaning up your injury to take your mind off the pain
-He knows humans are a little more fragile than demons so even though he knows it’s not a big deal, he can’t help but worry
-It’s kinda hard falling around him tho because chances are, he will actually catch you even if he happens to hold something
-He’s sad if you’re sad so please don’t cry he will bandage your scraped knee do you want the last bit of his burger to make you feel better?
-Comfort hugs afterwards!
-Which is awesome because Beel gives out best hugs :)
Belphie:
-Ah yes, another beautiful day at RAD
-Walking alongside with your grumpy and sleepy boyfriend when a random demon bumps into you
-Wel not bumps, more like shoves you so hard you fall down and tear the fabric of your pants
-While the dude shrugs it off and speeds away
-You were a bit pissed off because rude
-But Belphie was fucking fuming
-He felt so offended on your part
-I mean, the nerve of him
-He was tired as shit but he wanted to chase after him and throw hands, possibly fill his pillow with rocks and hit him over the head with it
-He forced himself to focus on you first before hunting the moron down
-He was a bit concerned when he didn’t see you come back up after you fell
-Turns out, you scraped your knee pretty horribly and now you were bleeding all over the floor
-He’s even more quiet than usual as he helps you up and half carries you to your next class
-He starts taking care of your knee in the middle of DevilDom history he doesn’t give a flying fuck
-He’s still furious by the time he gets home and most of his brothers know to leave him be when he makes that scary ass face
-No talk to him
-He angy
-“Does your knee still hurt?”
-“A bit but it’s not-“
-“Come nap with me.”
-“Why?”
-“Naps shall cure your pain.”
-“...”
-“Nah but for real come take a nap with me.”
-Next day at school, the dude from yesterday walks by him and Belphie smashes his head against the wall
-Before walking away as if nothing happened
-I stan protective Belphie
These HCs are really bad but I love them anyway
Al~
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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years
Text
Ateez: Their Little Sister Is A Popular Idol
Kim Hongjoong:
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Hongjoong and you debuted roughly around the same time, and fans lived for your sibling interactions because they were just outright hilarious. You would always end up yelling at each other or having cute little banters.
One day, you were both invited on a special sibling episode of Weekly Idol with other idols, such as Jessica and Krystal, Izone's Chaeyeon and Itzy's Chaeryeong, Oneus' Xion and Onewe's Dongmyeong and Ex Boyfriend's Youngmin and Kwangmin. It was filled with competitions and Hongjoong and you just seemed to struggle to work together. It was especially hilarious when you two played the 'Shout In Silence' game.
"Knock Out!!" You shouted once you saw the word, which was coincidentally your debut song.
"Huh?!" Hongjoong couldn't really understood what your lips formed.
"Knock Out!" You repeated, louder this time.
"Blocked cow?!" He asked, unsure of his answer.
"Stop messing around Kim Hongjoong! Think! My debut song! Knock Out!" You were getting desperate.
"Wait what!" Hongjoong asked.
"My debut song!!!"
But Hongjoong stayed silent, his brain trying to think.
"Didn't you watch it?! Knock Out!!!" You hollered even louder.
"Jumped Out?!" He tried answering.
"Kim Hongjoong I will knock you out if you don't get it!!! Knock Out! Knock Out! Ugh! Stupid!" Your voice was hurting at this point.
"Hey!!! I understood 'stupid'!!! I'm older than you!" He warned you.
Yeah, you had the entire set laughing.
Park Seonghwa:
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As your older brother, Seonghwa was extremely protective of you growing up and that didn't change even after you debuted. In fact, his desire to protect you intensified. You often complained about it, hating how he was always fussing over you, reminding you to eat healthy and annoying you at times.
Seonghwa lived for it though. His members were even surprised by how soft he turned for you only. And of course fans thought you two were so adorable. Atinys often liked to tease him about it, often asking him about what he'd do when you started dating. That always seemed to annoy him.
"She's not allowed to date until I'm dead." Was his response every time.
Being Seonghwa's sister, of course you were beautiful, and a lot of idols had their eyes set on dating you. But of course, Seonghwa was always there to cockblock them. Even on tv, he had no chill when telling them to back off.
"Seonghwa have you heard the news?" The tv host asked.
"What news?" He asked.
"Well, with your sister acting in the new web drama, there's rumors going around that she's dating her co-star."
Seonghwa's eye twitched at that, and the other members started laughing.
"I don't think he likes that idea." Yunho chuckled.
"Any words about the situation or to her co-star?" The host asked.
Seonghwa looked to the camera for a few seconds before holding his microphone up.
"Over my dead body." He responded causing the members to go into chaotic mode over his response.
Jeong Yunho:
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Yunho was the most supportive brother and he often said he was your biggest fan. Any chance he got, he'd promote you and your group, and was always dancing around to your songs. He'd even post dance covers of them, just to show his support. Every interaction you had, whether at music shows, ISAC or variety shows, he was your personal cheerleader.
He was also extremely clingy towards you, often hugging you, tangling his long limbs over your tiny body.
"Let go Yunho! You're squishing me!" You often told him.
"No! Let me love you!" Your protests would only encourage him to squish you even tighter.
Of course, the dancing genes ran strong in your family. Fans often praised your dancing abilities and were often wondering if you two would ever collaborate together to come up with a choreography. That's exactly what they asked Yunho one day when he was reacting to your comeback music video.
"Wow! As usual, Y/N slays the dance. She's getting better than she already was."
He looked at his phone, reading the fan's comments and landed on a particular question everyone was wondering.
"Would we ever create a dance together? Hmmm."
He thought about it for a moment.
"Honestly, I'd love to do it. What do you say baby sis? Wanna help your Oppa create a choreography? Just us two?"
He snickered when he thought about what you'd say when you saw his VLive.
"She's probably going to say no, tell me I'm annoying and to get lost. She has such a temper........"
He paused before smirking.
"You know what they say. Tiny creatures are more feisty cause their tiny bodies can't hold a lot of rage."
"She's going to kill you when she finds out you said that." Yeosang said from behind the camera.
"Probably. She hates being called tiny." Yunho agreed.
Kang Yeosang:
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Although Yeosang was super proud of you for debuting, he kept the fact you two were siblings a secret for a long time and honestly you liked it that way too. You were both introverts and preferred to lay low.
Fans of your groups often compared you two, saying how similar you looked, how you were both the savage ones of your groups, even your little habits and love for chicken was extremely similar. Of course, both of you saw their posts and videos comparing you two, and you both cringed when some thought you'd be cute together. That's when you two stepped in and clarified you were siblings. Now it was fan's turn to be shook at the revelation.
And that became the topic when your groups were invited on a variety show. At one point, Ateez was complaining how Yeosang roasts them so much that they're scared of him and can't ever say anything back. You burst out laughing at that.
"He may be my older brother, but I'm not scared of his sharp tongue." You bravely admitted.
That's when the hosts suggested you expose something about your brother, like he did to his members on Weekly Idol. All of Ateez were super excited about the suggestion.
"Try your best. I'm not scared." Yeosang said confidently, but you knew deep down he was nervous about what you would say.
You couldn't help the smirk on your face as you thought about how to embarrass him.
"So my Oppa here, in front of cameras and with his members, likes to be cold and aloof, hating aegyo and skinship......not wanting Seonghwa or Wooyoung to baby him.......but it's a lie."
Everyone gasped at that.
"Cause at home, our parents are always babying him and he basks in their affection. He's always doing aegyo for them too. Atinys don't be fooled. Kang Yeosang is a literal baby."
Everyone started laughing at that, San and Wooyoung standing up and exclaiming that he was such liar and fake.
For once, Yeosang was so flustered at getting exposed, by none other than his little sister. He was speechless.
"Finally! The great Kang Yeosang had a taste of his own medicine!" Mingi exclaimed, having been Yeosang's constant victim.
No one had the power to make Yeosang scared like you did.
Choi San:
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Your number 1 hype man, your caring brother, your part time manager, your personal photographer, and your cuddle bug, there's nothing Choi San wouldn't turn himself into for you. Would legit run a fan blog dedicated to you if he could. Is always praising you and saying the sweetest things about you.
Tries to get you to show off more of your skills and talents. You're shy and somewhat quiet, so people tend to look more at the other members, that's why San is always promoting you and encouraging you to not be afraid to show your true colors.
If you two are in public together, he's always holding your hand or holding you close. Yeah, definitely wants pics of you two to circulate the internet. Spoils you to no end. And he enjoys having you spend time with the other members. They adore you as well.
"Isn't she the cutest? The most adorable thing you've ever seen?" He gives you endless aegyo constantly.
"Did you just call me a thing?" You raised an eyebrow at him.
But you can't stay mad at him, not with that sad pout.
That being said, sometimes you do feel embarrassing by him. You're more reserved and somewhat conservative and so used to seeing cute San, that whenever he turns into demon San you're covering your face or screaming loudly.
"Aaahhh! What the heck San!!! What was that? Oh my god!" You screeched one day when you were reacting to one of his fancams.
"What happened to my older brother?! The one that carries Shiber around everywhere?! What have you done to him?!"
You grabbed your bottle of water dramatically and pretended to throw some at the screen.
"Be gone unclean spirit! Off with you!"
That's the one thing you two have in common: you're both super dramatic and so extra over the smallest of things.
Song Mingi:
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He's the older one? Really? That's what everyone was thinking when you confirmed you were siblings. It's not that you looked older or him younger, no. It was your personality. You were extremely mature for your age and were often captured taking care of Mingi or scolding him. Naturally, people thought you were the older one.
Mingi honestly didn't mind. He often joked that he was indeed the baby and you were the older one. Every time you got asked why you babied him, it was the same thing.
"Have you seen him? He'd be dead if it wasn't for me. I'm the reason he's alive."
Mingi actually didn't mind you saying those things.
"That's how she shows her love. She knows she enjoys my company."
It was extremely hilarious for fans to see you guys spend time together. You two once did a VLive collaboration and it became a trending topic for days because it was extremely chaotic and funny.
"Mingi! I told you to flip the eggs!" You shouted at him.
"I tried! But it was stuck!" He tried to excuse himself.
"You're just a scaredy cat! Afraid of getting burnt!" You told him as you turned off the stove.
You immediately grabbed a kitchen towel and started fanning it over the smoke that accumulated in the kitchen.
"God! Mingi I know for a fact you have brain cells.....so fucking use them!"
Mingi gasped at your words.
"Y/N! There's a camera!" He reminded you.
You went wide eyed and panicked. Mingi began laughing at your reaction.
"Oh my god! You cussed live in front of fans!"
Mingi was cracking up so hard at what happened. You were so embarrassed by your mistake. You banged your head on the counter.
"Kill me now." You groaned.
Mingi came up behind you and hugged you.
"Hey don't worry little sis. At least now they know not to mess with you."
Finally, Mingi showed that he was indeed your older brother who was always there to comfort you when you needed it.
Jung Wooyoung:
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"You're Ateez' Wooyoung's younger sibling right? What's he like as your brother?"
You often got asked that question and it was always accompanied by you sighing.
"Honestly.....he's a pain. I love him, but he's too much."
Yes Wooyoung loved you as well, but he was super annoying and his past time was teasing you to no end. Even if you threatened to smack him, which you did, or threatened to tell your parents, he'd still keep going.
"And here we see our tiny main vocalist getting ready, and like most females, she's going to take an hour on just her hair then spend 45 minutes on foundation, then-"
"Moooom! Wooyoung is narrating my life again!" You interrupted his narration.
"Snitch! Don't you know that snitches get stitches?" Wooyoung exclaimed, pushing the camera he was holding closer to your face.
"Bitches get stitches too.....Bitch!" You glared at him.
"Oooh! You! I should upload this to the internet and let all your fans know their sweet honey vocalist cusses like a sailor." Wooyoung threatened you.
"Do it no balls! Just remember who taught me those words in the first place." You smirked at him.
"......Shit! Why'd you have to inherit my blackmail skills?" Wooyoung said as he finally stopped recording.
Wooyoung was always reacting to your content though, often making fun of you, but he wasn't mean all the time. He often complimented you on your singing abilities. He was always saying you had the voice of an angel. And if there was something he was extremely vocal about was about any hate comments you got. He was quick and eager to call haters out.
"Dying dolphin? Who you calling dying dolphin? Have you even heard a dolphin dying? This is what it sounds like."
Suddenly Wooyoung began screeching at the top of his lungs, startling the member in the next room.
"What the hell are you doing on your VLive Jung Wooyoung?!" Seonghwa called out.
"I'm showing some bastards the difference between a dying dolphin and an angel singing so they can stop saying bullshit!"
Choi Jongho:
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Jongho hates people acting cute, doesn't react to his Hyungs doing aegyo, and is never soft with anyone.....except you, his little sister. It was extremely surprising, even for the members of Ateez. You were the complete opposite of Jongho: you were tiny, cute, adorable, full of aegyo and were not afraid to show it off any chance you got. Loona's Chuu and Lovelyz' Kei had nothing on you in cuteness.
It never failed to amaze people how he smiled that bright gummy smile he had every time you did aegyo for him. The first time you did it was during an episode of Idol Room. It was a game of trying to get Jongho to smile, laugh, react to anything and all of the Ateez members failed. Then you came up with your pigtails and bright smile.
"Oppa! Why so angry? Can't you smile for me?"
The whole room burst into screaming and groaning when Jongho immediately smiled for you and patted your head.
"What the heck!" "That's impossible! He hates aegyo!" "This is rigged! That's sibling privilege!" "What the hell did I embarrass myself for?!"
Anytime anyone mentioned you, he'd immediately light up. He was so soft for you.
"Isn't my sister the cutest?"
Don't push him though. He's also very overprotective of you. Anytime he sees an idol staring at you too much, he flexes his muscles. Anytime the members said you looked cute or pretty, he'd warn them he'd split them like apples if they got too close.
Jongho nearly had a heart attack when he was watching your group's comeback with the other members. And it was because your group suddenly changed your cute concept for a more mature and sexy concept. He was flipping tables, literally.
"What did they do to my little sister?! What happened to her space buns and oversized sweaters?! Why is she wearing that short skirt?! Why are you guys staring?! Stop looking at the screen!!"
The others were cracking up at him as he tried to cover the screen with his body.
Gifs not mine, credit goes to their respective owners.
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evermoreholland · 3 years
Text
Thankful | Tom Holland x Reader
Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader
Summary: You and Tom spend Thanksgiving with your family.
Warnings: none, just fluff
Word Count: 1,736
A/n: Requested by anon! This was fun to write!
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You and Tom have been married for about five years and have been together for around seven years. You were from America and you had met Tom when he was working on one of his projects back in the States. You were a professional makeup artist and you happened to be Tom’s makeup artist for that specific project. Tom thought you were funny and talented, so he couldn’t help but ask you out. Good thing you said yes because now you both have a beautiful life together.
You have two adorable children. Your eldest daughter, Charlotte, was four years old and your baby boy, Parker, was nine months old. You loved your perfect little family because you and your wonderful husband created them.
Tom had been talking about holiday plans for a while now. You had wanted to travel back to the States for Thanksgiving, but Tom was nervous. You haven’t travelled since Charlotte was ten months old and he was scared to travel with two little ones. You assured Tom that everything would be fine. Your parents wanted to see you and the kids and you told Tom that it would be a good time.
The plane ride went surprisingly really well. The kids didn’t fuss much, and you were extremely grateful for that. Your older sister picked you up from the airport and you made your way back to your childhood home.
You came in and you and Tom were immediately engulfed in hugs from your mother and father, along with your siblings and their children. Your mother took Parker from Tom’s arms because she hasn’t seen him since he was a newborn and she had missed him. Charlotte went with your sister to the backyard to go out and play.
“How was the flight?” Your father asked your husband.
“It was good. The kids didn’t scream at all during the flight.”
“That’s great, Tom! Y/n used to scream on the plane all of the time when she was younger,” your mother commented.
“Yeah, we know. I was a handful,” you said.
“She still is,” Tom teased.
“Shut it, Thomas,” you said as you playfully slapped his chest. “Need any help cooking, mom?”
Your mother handed Parker back into your arms and said, “I’m actually almost done with everything for tonight. Dad just has to cook the turkey tomorrow.”
Your sister and Charlotte came back from outside and Charlotte ran into her father’s arms, very excited to tell him something. “Daddy! Daddy!”
“Yeah Char?” Tom asked.
“Auntie said we can go jump in leaves. Come! Come!” Charlotte exclaimed. She began running back to the door, pointing outside.
“I’m coming, Charlie,” Tom said as he ran outside with his daughter. You walked outside with Parker and your mother to see Tom and Charlotte rolling in the leaves together and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.
“P!” Charlotte shouted and ran towards you and her little brother.
“I don’t think P can jump in the leaves just yet, bubs,” you said.
“Mummy, I’m tired.” Unlike you, Charlotte had a gorgeous British accent and your mother laughed when she heard what Charlotte called you.
“Let’s go rest then, darling. It looks like you and Parker both need a nap. Tom?”
“Yes, love?”
“Let’s put P and C to bed,” you said.
“No, no. Let me,” you mother requested. “Let me spend more time with my grandchildren.”
“If you insist,” Tom laughed. Your mother took Parker from your arms and grabbed Charlotte’s hand and led them to the guest bedroom where you would be staying.
“I’m going to make Parker a bottle and I’ll bring it to your mum,” Tom said and then pressed a kiss to your forehead and made his way back inside.
You decided to sit out on the patio outside for a while, just enjoying some alone time. It wasn’t quiet often so you decided to make the most of it. After a couple of minutes your father came out.
“Is everything okay?” He asked as he sat right beside you on the bench.
“Yeah, just enjoying the quiet.”
“He’s good to you?” Your father asked, referring to Tom. Your father liked Tom, but he always asked to make sure everything was going okay.
“Why do you always ask me that?” You asked slightly confused, but smiling at your father nonetheless. You weren’t upset that he asked, just curious.
“As a father, I need to make sure your husband is taking care of you.”
“I can take care of myself just fine,” you replied.
“I know you can. You are my daughter after all,” he laughed. Your father got up to go back inside and gave you a small wave. Your relationship with your father was definitely interesting but you loved him anyway.
Tom came back outside with a bottle of wine with two glasses and sat with you on the bench as well.
“How’s my favorite girl doing?” He asked as he put everything on the table in front of you.
“Don’t tell Charlotte that.”
“Oh, of course not. Are you doing okay?” He asked.
“I’m really good. Happy,” you said and then you kissed his cheek.
“I’m sorry that I gave you such a difficult time in coming here. I just didn’t think the kids would be this well behaved.”
“Yeah, because they usually take after you,” you teased.
“Cut it out, darling,” Tom said.
“Oh, so you can tease me and it’s fine but I can’t tease you?”
“Exactly.”
“I’m really thankful for you, Tom. I don’t know where I’d be without you,” you said in appreciation for your caring husband.
“I’m thankful for you, too. Without you, I’d be a mess.”
“A hot one, though,” you said as you wrapped your arms around his neck and Tom pulled you into his lap. He kissed your forehead, then both of your cheeks, then your nose, and finally, your lips.
“What about the wine?” You asked.
“Don’t worry, darling. We’ll get to it, just let me kiss you first,” Tom said and went back to kissing you all over your face. He was just happy that you were letting him give you this much affection.
“I really love you, hubby.” You said and leaned your head on Tom’s shoulder.
“I love you more, wifey.” You closed your eyes and Tom gently rubbed your back soothingly. You felt yourself slowly drifting off into slumber. Tom looked over your shoulder and saw that you were sleeping and he picked you up and gently carried you to the bedroom you were staying in. He tucked you under the covers and pressed a kiss to your cheek. He checked on Charlotte and Parker and saw them sleeping peacefully. He placed kisses to their cheeks as well and then quietly left the room.
“They’re sleeping?” your mother asked Tom when he came to the living room.
“Yeah, Y/n has been exhausted recently.”
“She’s a great mother,” your mother complimented. Tom’s eyes lit up at your mother’s words because you agreed. He was in awe of you every time he saw you with his children and he was so lucky to build a life with someone as amazing as you are.
“She is.”
~~~
You woke up later in the night and you saw that Tom was sitting on the rocking chair in the corner of the room with Parker in his arms, feeding him.
“Hey, handsome,” you whispered.
“How did you sleep, darling?” Tom asked as you made your way over to your husband and son.
“Very well. I can take Parker if you want. I feel bad.”
“Don’t feel bad, love. You do so much for this family. Let me help a little bit,” Tom insisted.
“Okay, how’s Charlotte?”
“She woke up to eat and play for a while and then she went back to bed.”
“I’ve been out for a while then,” you said.
Tom finished feeding Parker and you went to go eat something since you were hungry. After, you took a shower and then rocked Parker to sleep. You and Tom went to bed shortly after.
~~~
You both woke up bright and early to Charlotte jumping on the bed along with Parker’s screams. You went to pick up Parker to feed him while Tom dressed Charlotte in his nice outfit for updated family photos today. After you finished feeding and changing Parker into his outfit, you changed into your dress for today and put on some light makeup. You then went to the kitchen to find Tom pouring a bowl of cereal for Charlotte.
“Get dressed, Tommy.” Tom turned around and saw you and Parker smiling at him.
“You both look adorable,” he said as he made his way over to you and gave you both a kiss.
After Tom got dressed, you ate breakfast with him and your parents and then you went to the park for pictures.
~~~
Pictures went well and then you all went home to get ready for Thanksgiving dinner. Tom helped your father cook the turkey while you and your mother set the table and finished preparing the side dishes. Charlotte and Parker were busy playing with your sister.
“Turkey’s done!” Your father exclaimed. Your dad brought the turkey to the table and now you were all ready to eat. You all gathered around the table and finally sat down together.
“Before we eat, let’s all go around and say what we are thankful for,” your mother said. Your parents went first and then your sister, and then finally you.
“Thank you mom and dad for having us. I am incredibly thankful for my husband and my children. Without them I don’t know where I’d be,” you said.
Tom leaned over to you and whispered, “Looks like someone is stealing my line.”
“Oh dear,” you giggled.
“I am thankful that we were able to be here this year for Thanksgiving. Thank you so much for having us. I am very thankful for my two beautiful children, my wife, and the rest of my family as well, even though they are not sitting with us today,” Tom said. After that, you all began to dig into the yummy food.
Charlotte loved the turkey and Parker made a mess with his mashed potatoes. They were sometimes messy and you were often tired, but they were your beautiful children, and you couldn’t imagine spending Thanksgiving any other way.
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General Taglist:
@in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @spideysquackson13 @calltothewild @lieswithoutfairytales
Tom Holland Taglist:
@spideydreamers @geminiparkers @stixnstripesworld
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paintedpeeta · 3 years
Note
more toast baby head canons pleaaaaase<3
anon i probably shouldn’t i feel like everyone must be sick of my ramblings by now.... but i’m still gonna 😭
first of all i’m going to start with saying katniss loves her babies, okay? she loved them so much that even before they were born she couldn’t bare to think of them suffering or in pain or being subject to the horrors of the games the way she was (this is why she didn’t want to have children. not because she didn’t like kids not because she didn’t want them not to make a statement. she simply couldn’t stand the idea of not being able to protect her children, she’d rather never have children than let that happen.) and this is why it makes sense that she has children when the world is no longer like that and she feels safe and open to the idea. (to soothe herself to sleep on the quell beach she literally imagines a world where it would be safe to have peeta’s baby like you cannot make this up. it’s right there)
i could go on and on about that because i still see people saying the mockingjay ending didn’t make sense or was out of character or forced and like 🥲 but we move we move. people are allowed to feel however they like of course.
katniss would rely a lot on peeta to help her work through her anxiety during her pregnancy. the past 15 years was them learning how to take care of each other and even though this is a wee bit different he adapts super quickly to what she needs. panic when the baby moves and kicks is quickly calmed with talk of the nursery and name ideas, getting her cosy on the couch and playing with her hair until she’s settled again.
speaking of the nursery, they decorate it together as a project to keep her busy. of course he doesn’t let her near any of the strenuous stuff but she decides where the furniture is placed and he just absolutely dotes while she fusses about minor details to make sure their baby is comfortable. “I don’t want the sun to shine in her eyes first thing in the morning. can you move the crib over here instead?”
she spends most of her pregnancies in his big shirts because they’re comfortable and gentle on her skin and also she’s a stubborn wee shit who will not spend money on clothes that won’t fit in a few months. he finds it kind of funny because she’s so petite and has been all her life and has to adjust to getting round in the middle. she’s always like “you better not be laughing at me, mellark.”
sometimes he catches her singing to the bump or just gently talking to it. “papa isn’t going to let us into the nursery because he’s painting it today. he’s already so protective, i don’t even think i’ll be allowed to get near you.” peeta is of course listening in the hallway like 🥰 because that’s his girl.
this very quickly turned into pregnant!lark rather than toastbaby headcanons im very sorry anon i just think katniss everdeen loves her babies here are more about said babies
i’ve kind of spoken about this before but on their girls first day of school they are an absolute wreck. they walk her there together, holding her little hands and keeping up with her nervous chatter and they just hold it together until they get back home. peeta says something like “what if her shoelace comes undone she doesn’t know how to tie them yet” and then they both just start bawling (she can at least blame the hormones because of toastie 2 but peeta is just an emotional wreck over his baby girl). they’re the first parents at the gate to collect her when school is over, and you’d think they’d been apart for months the way they squeeze and cuddle her. she rides home on papa’s shoulders, pulling his hair something awful but he absolutely doesn’t mind. he changes the bakery schedule so he can be there to collect her every day, and he’s never once late to pick up his little girl.
haymitch stops drinking when their little girl is born. he’s been given the role of honorary grandfather and he wants to be around as long as possible for the sweet girl with dark hair and blue eyes who calls him grampy (it’s unknown if this came from the word grumpy or grandpa or both). peeta teases haymitch rotten everytime he babysits because he’s sitting there with a bow in his hair and his nails terribly painted having a tea party with a goose like 👁👄👁💅 we had fun today.
swimming lessons at the lake with mama and papa. toastie girl is very good but their boy prefers to goof off and splash and dunk his papa’s head under. he is, however, a natural at fishing. he can be quiet when he needs to be and his nets always seem to be full when he goes out with his mama. they noticed this talent when he was just a little toddler and yanked a fish out of the lake with his chunky baby hands (peeta is like “what the fuck. what did i marry into”)
peeta and katniss sometimes quietly observe their children playing together, their girl setting up a little fake bakery and using her baby brother and the cat as her only customers. baby boy is like, propped up on pillows because he can’t sit yet and girl is like “I think i’ve short changed you sir here is the rest of your money.” he has no idea what the hell she is saying but he is living for it. the cat bolts when she tries to get an apron on him. baby boy face plants onto his cushioned pen from laughing too hard and his sister is like “okay let’s not tell mama about that one.” even though her and peeta are watching from the door with teary laughs because that’s their babies!!
the toasties are fiercely protective of each other, even when they’re little kids. their girl holds her brothers hand and walks him to his classroom on his first day of school and she’s the first one to get to him if he falls over in the yard or gets upset. one day an older boy pushes past toast girl in the corridor and her little brother is sent to the principles office for launching a pebble at his head 💀 (katniss is in that office like “i really don’t see a problem here mr principle i really don’t. it hit him right between the eyes? nice shot, kid. i mean... bad.”.)
peeta sometimes takes a toastie with him to the bakery to give katniss a rest or a chance to get out to the woods by herself, and he’s always so proud to show off his kids. they just absolutely charm the customers and also they have a lot of fun when papa lets them messily decorate cookies and cakes.
the toasties are very familiar with everyone in the memory book, even when they don’t know what happened to any of them, they know auntie prim and grandpa everdeen and their uncles.
family cuddle time is no joke. sometimes the toasties just want a night in mama and papas bed, like if there’s a thunderstorm or someone had a nightmare, and their parents of course welcome them right in. peeta always ends up half hanging off of the bed with someone’s foot pressed into his back but he wouldn’t have it any other way, and he tucks them in again when he gets up to leave for work.
also cosy naps on the couch 🥺 peeta coming home to katniss snuggled up with one or both of their babies on her chest, carefully draping a blanket over them as he takes in the scene before quietly going to start dinner.
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yayeetsonny · 4 years
Text
Big surprise~USWNT x Baby reader
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Prompt: Team finds out baby r is dating a famous person via instagram live.
Requested by: @khiaraaa-in-spacee​
Y/N PRO
Being a professional soccer player and playing in both the NWSL for the Orlando Pride and at the national level for the USWNT at the age of 18 is a great honor and privilege, I got to play the sport I loved nearly everyday and I was able to make a living from it, but it can be exhausting at times. Which is why I’m glad that we have a few weeks off before I have to report to the next national camp for our next set of friendlies. I live in LA with my girlfriend Billie Eilish and being able to spend some quality time with her after months of being on the go is great. The only drawback is that the team has no idea I’m dating someone famous, I have kept that part of my life private, It’s not that I don’t trust them, I do; they’re like sisters to me and the older players even sometimes act as parental figures, but Billie and I agreed to keep our relationship as private as possible and agreed that when the time was right, she would meet the girls.
Speaking of Billie she and her brother Finneas were working on some music in the little studio like set up she created in our basement so I decided to bring them a snack.
“Hey babe, I thought I’d bring you guys a snack since you’ve been working so hard.” I said, handing her the bowl of berries, and handing Finneas a bowl of popcorn.
“Aw, thank you baby. That was very sweet of you.”
“How’s the song writing going?”
“Slow but we’re making progress.” Finneas said
“Good to hear.”
I spent some time with them looking at what they had written out so far and listening to some of the beats they thought of using before excusing myself to go do an instagram live. Even though I was technically on vacation I made sure to still engage with fans and I looked forward to the weekly lives. I had previously sent out a tweet and posted on my instagram story that I would be on live soon so I knew a substantial amount of people including some of my teammates were bound to be on fairly quickly.
“Hey guys! How’s everyone doing today?”
I watched as the comment section was flooded with people telling me how they were or sending in heart and heart eye emojis.
“I’m doing great, can you say happy birthday Abigail?” I said under my breath.
“So glad to hear it! Happy birthday Abigail!” I said
I continued to read the comments as they came in, squinting as I did so and laughed when I saw a familiar name pop up.
“Hey Alex, no I’m not blind. I’m squinting because the font is small.”
She sent several laughing emoji’s in return.
“Hey Pinoe, Jess, Abby, Julie, Moe, Christen, Tobs, Tierna, Mal, Sam, Emily and Rose.” I said, out of breath after reading all their names off in one go. My eyes widened when I noticed several more of my teammates had joined the lives.
“Ah, and Hi Becky, Carli, A.D., Lindsey, Crystal, Allie, Ashlyn, Ali, Alyssa, and Kelley.”
I was practically wheezing by the time I finished listing everyone’s names.
“The gang’s all here I see.” I laughed.
I saw several of their comments popping up, all of which seemed to be referring to the same thing.
“Breath little one.”
“Drink some water, please.”
“Are you okay?”
“That wheezing doesn’t sound too good.”
“Go get your inhaler.”
I rolled my eyes playfully at their fussing, even from miles away they found a way to baby me. I was the youngest on the team so they felt the need to be protective.
“Guys relax, I’m perfectly okay. I just forgot to breath for a sec. And I’m 18 years old Chris, I’m not little.” 
Several of them sent comments back disagreeing which I chose to ignore.
“Okay guys send in your questions and I’ll do my best to answer most of them.”
Comments began flowing in and I started to answer some of them.
“What’s your favorite holiday?”
“Well I’d have to say Christmas for sure. Not only is it a time for me to spend with family and the food is great I’ll admit I like getting and giving presents too.”
“ Who would you want with you if you were deserted on an island?” “I’d have to say… Alyssa and… Julie. I’d want those two with me because Alyssa would keep mostly to herself and not drive me crazy like Kelley or Emily would with their endless energy but she would be a great conversationalist and she would share her warmth by cuddling with me, and Julie because she’s tough as nails and I feel like she would be good at gathering food and finding a way to provide shelter.” 
Alex, Pinoe and Tobin voiced their offense at not being chosen while the others, minus Christen just said they would let me fend for myself if we ever got stranded together. Christen said
“They are excellent choices and I agree.” 
Julie and Alyssa gloated 
“Ahaha we’re her favorites.”
“Now we know who the favorites are and I can’t say I’m surprised that I’m one of them.”
I continued to answer questions, they ranged from asking what my favorite color was to what my best moments the field was. I was in the middle of answering a question about my most embarrassing in-game moment was when Billie suddenly came running into the room, excited to show me something.
“Hey babe, Finn and I got down this amazing chorus, wanna hear it?”
I tried to find a way to mute the live while I talked to her but it was too late. She realized what I was doing, and her eyes almost popping out of her head. She looked at me worriedly while I just laughed nervously. I knew everyone had heard her call me “babe” because they began asking who I was dating and begging to see them. Emily commented
“Yeah Y/N spill the tea.”
Billie and I just stared at each other, slightly communicating with our eyes before she nodded and made her way over to sit next to me. We were both nervous but knew that everyone had to find out sometime, and while this wasn’t the way we had planned for the girls to find out I hoped they were cool about it.
“Guys… I’d like you to meet my girlfriend Billie. Billie Eilish.” I said to the camera.
“Hey guys, this wasn’t planned but I’m glad to be here.” She said
What followed was an outpouring of support and joy from the fans and I was incredibly relieved, we both were.  I didn’t see any comments from the team and that was slightly concerning. I knew they were all still on and paying attention. Did they not like her? Were they mad at me for hiding my relationship from them? 
I smiled at the camera, both Billie and I thanking fans for their love. I hadn’t told her this yet but I was starting to worry about what my teammates really thought of Billie. After answering a few more questions we decided to call it a day and promised to do lives together often.
“That was fun! Sorry for putting you on the spot like that I totally forgot you were doing a live.” Billie said coming up to hug me.
“It’s okay, everyone seems to love you and support us.” I said absentmindedly scrolling through my phone waiting for something, anything from the girls.
“You okay Y/N?”
“Yeah I’m okay, I just haven’t heard from the girls since you came on the live and none of them said anything after.
“Wait the whole team was watching?”
“Yeah they were.”
“And they didn’t say anything after I came on?”
“Nope.”
“Do you think they have a problem with us being together?”
“I’ll be honest, I’m not sure.”
After some more waiting I finally got a text from Morgan in the group chat.
“Group Skype in 5, be there.”
Yikes that was a little cold. I wasn’t one to be afraid of my teammates, except on the rare occasion one of them was in a mood but I couldn’t help but be nervous to talk to them. I told Billie what was going to happen and I could tell she was nervous too but she decided to wait in the other room to give us some privacy, only joining if requested.
“I’m sure it won’t be long. I love you.” I said kissing her.
“I love you too.”
As soon as I joined the call it was silent.
“Hi guys.” I said timidly.
“Y/N.” Kelley said
“So… A famous girlfriend huh?” Megan said
“Yeah… she’s really talented and I’m so proud of all she’s accomplished. Our relationship is really special to me.” I said more confident than before.
“She seems very nice.” Chris said
“She is so kind and sweet.”
“Does she make you happy?” Mal asked me in a serious tone.
“Incredibly.”
“Then that’s all that matters to us.”
“I-I thought you guys were mad at me or didn’t approve of her.”
I saw several of the girls’ eyebrows furrow and they all looked confused and concerned.
“What made you think that?”
“Well for starters, none of you commented anything after she came on the live and then after no one texted me for over an hour. I really thought you were upset or something.” I said sadly
“Aw, bub. We’re sorry. We didn’t mean to make you feel like that. Looking at it now, we see how it looked but we were just texting each other, trying to plan a way to fly out and surprise you and meet her in person. We got caught up in taking about how you, the baby of the team; our baby is dating someone as famous as Billie Eilish, much less dating anyone at all.” Alex said, everyone else agreeing
“You guys didn’t think I could be dating anyone?” I asked slightly offended 
“No, no. We didn’t mean it like that. We just meant that you did such a good job at hiding it from everyone and you never talked about liking any girls or boys or non-binary people that we thought you weren’t interested in dating at the moment.” Ali said.
“Oh.”
 I understood now why they thought that, I had never shown any interest in anyone but it was simply because I was already taken and saw no reason to entertain, think about or talk about the idea of anyone else.
“We love her as an artist and are sure she is a great person, especially if she makes you happy.” Allie said.
“Would you guys like to talk to her right now? She’s just in the other room, I can go get her.”
“OMG YESSSS”
“ABSOLUTELY”
“WHAT KIND OF A QUESTION IS THAT?” Crystal, Sam and Abby all boomed 
“And everyone else who isn’t trying to break your eardrums agrees too.” Ashlyn said giggling.
“Next time warn earbud users will you? Geez” Megan said rubbing her ears
“I’ll be right back.” I said chuckling at their antics.
I went into the room next door to get Billie so she could say Hi to the girls.
“Hey babe.” I said
“Hey, how’d your call with the team go?”
“Actually it’s not over yet. They want to meet you.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, they were never mad or upset. They were just planning to surprise me and come out to meet you in person.”
“Oh wow. Not what I was expecting to hear but that’s very nice of them.”
“Yeah, you ready to meet my “moms” and sisters?” I said giggling
“As I’ll ever be.”
When we reentered the room we could hear them all chanting 
“GO, GO, GO, GO.”
When I looked at the screen I saw Mal chugging a giant bottle of sprite.
“What in the world? I’m gone for all of 5 Minutes and come back to see… whatever Mal is doing.”
“We triple dog dared her to chug the bottle of sprite after she pulled it out and took one measly sip of it.” Tierna shrugged
“You’re all so weird.”
“But you loveeee us.” Emily said 
“That I do. How you holding up, Pugh?” I said looking back at Mal and seeing she didn’t look so good.
“Moms, I don’t feel so good.” She said referring to Christen and Tobin
“Well baby, maybe you shouldn’t have chugged the whole thing.” Chris said pouting at her sympathetically.
“You were chanting with everyone else!” Mal said annoyed
“didn’t want to be a buzz kill.” She shrugged
“Wait a little bit and then heat up yourself some chicken noodle soup.” Tobin said
“Okayyy.”
Mal flopped dramatically back on her bed as some of the girls gave her props and others laughed at her very apparent sore stomach.
“I’m so sorry. They’re always like this.” I said turning to Billie 
“It’s cool. Props Mal, that was impressive.”
“Thanks Billie.”
“So Billie, how long have you and Y/N been together? Who kissed who first, and have you guys had sex yet?” Kelley asked
Of course she’s gonna be the one to put my girlfriend on the spot. Classic Kelley O’Hara
“Umm…” Billie looked at me uncomfortably
“We-we’ve been together for 7 and a half months. I kissed her, and no we haven’t.” I said covering for her as she froze.
“I see.” She said scratching her chin.
“Kelley, cool it with the grilling. We just met her.” Alex said coming to Billie’s defense.
“You’re right, sorry about that. I just want what’s best for Y/N. We all do.” She said sheepishly
“Nah, it’s cool. I totally get it.”
We continued to talk and the girls got to know Billie pretty well and they hit it off. I was relieved that they approved of her and that they were happy for me. They told me when they would be arriving in LA and how long they would be staying and we all got excited at the idea of seeing each other soon.
//
Sorry for any mistakes
-N
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theladyofdeath · 4 years
Text
The First of Many {Nessian}
Fluff, because Mother’s Day was yesterday. Written alongside the beautiful and talented love of my life, @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty​ :) From the 2nd gen modern au world of our “The Arrival” short series. enjoy x
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It was just after five in the morning when Cassian’s phone began to vibrate under his pillow. He quickly grabbed for it, silencing it and fighting the urge to groan as he rolled face down on his pillow. He debated on taking an extra five minutes to sleep, but knew if he did, he wouldn’t have time to make it to the other room. So even though it went against every fiber of his being, he threw back the covers and rolled out of bed.
He pulled on the sweat pants he’d discarded at the end of the bed the night before and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes as he yawned. Rounding the bed, Cassian picked up the baby monitor and flicked the switch to mute it. He could see their son sleeping through the screen and smiled. He glanced down at Nesta, still peacefully sleeping in their bed. He wanted to brush her hair off her forehead so he could see her beautiful face, but didn’t want to wake her. He looked back to the screen and saw tiny, squirming arms and swore, carefully setting the monitor down and jogging across the hall.
He stepped in the room and closed the door with a soft click. His seven-month-old son was babbling to himself in the crib, but Cassian knew that was short lived. He crept to the rocking chair in the corner and sat, closing his eyes until he was needed.
He woke up with a start when a piercing cry shook the room.
He jumped to his feet and picked up his young son, cooing down at him and gently bouncing him. “No, buddy, please. It’s mama’s first Mother’s Day and she’s very, very tired.”
Thorn’s cries died down, although he was still fussing as Cassian carried him from the room and down the stairs. The further away from the master bedroom he got to get this kid through his morning routine, the better chance Nesta had to sleep in.
And that was the plan.
So Cassian and Thorn entered the kitchen to warm up a bottle, and while it was heating, Cassian changed his diaper, although Thorn hardly stayed still as he did so. By the time Cassian got the diaper strapped on him, he didn’t even care about attempting to get his pajamas back on.
At least by that point, the bottle was warm, and Cassian plopped down on the couch with his baby boy and fed him the bottle as he said, “So, it’s Mother’s Day today. This time last year you were in mama’s belly. That means that we have to make today extra special.”
Thorn looked up at Cassian with big hazel eyes and long, dark lashes as he drank.
“Exactly,” Cassian went on. “I got her flowers on my way home last night, and I said they’re from you, but I’m not going to ask you to sign the card...you know, because you can’t. However, I got this little handprint thing, right? Which means daddy’s going to stick your hand in ink, press it against a sheet of paper, then frame it...and we have to do that before mommy wakes up. You up for that?” 
Thorn gurgled, forcing milk to drip down his lip and onto his belly.
“Awesome,” Cassian said, wiping it off with a burp cloth. “I’m going to take that as a yes, and I’m also going to ask that you don’t do that on the gift. Alright?” 
Thorn spat the nipple out of his mouth and giggled, reaching up for Cassian. With a soft, fond gaze in his hazel eyes, Cassian set the bottle on a coaster and held Thorn up against his chest, patting his back as he stood and carried Thorn into the kitchen. 
They were the first out of their little group of friends and family to get pregnant, and Cassian had been the first to admit that he knew nothing about babies. He’d been an only child and had a shitty home life growing up, which meant that when Nesta had told him that they were going to have a baby, that he was going to be a father, he had freaked the fuck out. 
He laughed thinking back on it. Now, he felt like he filled the daddy role fairly well. The best he could, anyway. He may not do everything by the book, but he was doing the best he could, and he really loved his boy.
And Nesta was a kickass mom.
Which was why her first Mother’s Day had to be perfect. It was the start of many Mother’s Days, the foundation of them all, the one that would forever set the bar for the future.
He’d spent weeks trying to decide what he should do for Nesta today, everything from a day at the spa (too expensive) to the new purse he’d seen her eyeing when they’d been walking back from Thorn’s six month check up last month (also too expensive), and he’d even asked his brothers. Neither of them had been helpful and he imagined Feyre and Elain were going to be spending their first Mother’s Days disappointed if their suggestions of a candle and “a nice book” held true.
Things had been rough since Nesta had Thorn the fall before. They’d discussed it during her entire pregnancy, and Nesta decided to quit her job as a travel agent and be a stay at home mom. It was everything Nesta had always dreamed of, but going from two salaries to one had made things a bit more tight around the Nazari house. It also didn’t help that Thorn had to have the special kind of formula, otherwise there weren’t enough diapers in the world to keep him changed and happy.
Cass pulled the Bumbo seat from the kitchen table where Nesta had been feeding him the night before and set it on the counter. He set Thorn in it and buckled him up, chuckling as his son immediately began to smack his little feet against the surface. He babbled and Cassian couldn’t help but grin as he reached for his own foot, the thick padding of the seat keeping him from grabbing it.
“Not quite, bud,” Cassian said, smiling, as he crossed the small kitchen and opened the pantry. He reached into the very back, behind the two year old boxes of jell-o and the stash of Ramen noodles he kept hidden away and got the stamping kit he’d ordered the week before.
“Alright, now this stuff is messy,” he said, reading the directions on the back of the box to his son, even though he had no idea what he was talking about. He set down the box and leaned down on his elbows in front of Thorn. “So we’re going to lay down some towels so mama doesn’t cut daddy’s favorite body part off for staining her counters. Cause we want to give you a brother or a sister one day, yes, we do.”
Thorn began blowing bubbles and he grabbed for Cassian’s hair.
With a chuckle, Cassian opened the junk drawer and took out a hair tie to bundle up his shoulder-length hair before they continued. He had learned fairly quickly that Thorn, although little, had a hell of a grip. Nesta wouldn’t let him cut his hair, though.
She loved it long.
She liked to grab onto it, too, from time to time.
After finding a towel and setting it down, he opened the contents of the box. There wasn’t much in it, just an ink pad, a piece of cardstock, and a little picture frame to put it in when it was all finished.
“Alright,” Cassian breathed, opening the inkpad and setting it down. He had hardly reached for the cardstock when Thorn picked up the inkpad and was bringing it to his little mouth. With a violent curse that probably shouldn’t be muttered in front of a seven-month-old, Cassian took the inkpad back, set it a solid distance away, and wiped Thorn’s hand off with the towel.
Hopefully Nesta didn’t love that towel, because it was going to be a mess, Cassian was certain, by the time they were done.
“We gotta hurry,” Cassian said, taking Thorn’s little hand into his and pressing it into the ink. Thorn looked completely confused. “Mama will be awake soon.”
Thorn, little fingers wiggling, pressed his hand against the cardstock. It looked like a giant blob. Cassian frowned. That wasn’t exactly what he was expecting. 
“Yeah, we’re gonna try that again on the back,” Cassian muttered, setting it aside as he picked up the inkpad and pressed Thorn’s little hand into it, once again. “This time, spread out your fingers, kid.”
Thorn babbled something angrily at his daddy.
Cassian assumed it resembled something close to “fuck you”.
He blew out a quick breath and said, “Alright, Nazari, you do this all the time. Just like taking fingerprints.”
Thorn was staring up at the ceiling and pointing with his clean hand, so Cassian took advantage of the distraction and Cassian rolled his hand, from heel to fingertip, across the cardstock, and let out a sigh of relief when he was left holding a perfect print of a chubby, little hand.
Cassian unwrapped the picture frame, throwing the plastic away and carefully lined the print up in the frame. He set it upright and looked at it, with a satisfied grin.
The frame read “Best mommy, hands down”, and Cass was about to pat himself on the back for figuring out a way to slip a pun into Nesta’s Mother’s Day present when he remembered Thorn’s hand was still covered in ink.
And now, so was his entire little, chubby body.
“Ah, fuck,” Cassian sighed, setting the frame down before unbuckling Thorn from the Bumbo seat and carrying him up the stairs, quietly, and into the bathroom across the hall from the nursery. He shut the door with a soft click before turning on the water, tossing Thorn’s diaper in the garbage under the sink, and setting him inside. “We have to stay quiet,” Cassian whispered, turning off the water, running a soapy washcloth over Thorn’s legs. “Mama’s still sleeping.”
At the mention of mama, Thorn was giggling and clapping his hands. 
“I know, we love mama, don’t we?” Cassian chuckled, washing off all the tiny, little inked handprints that had covered Thorn’s soft, tanned skin. Once the baby was clean, Cassian wrapped him in a towel and looked in the mirror. Cassian grinned at the reflection of him and his mini-me as the tub drained, and it was then that Cassian realized he had a series of tiny handprints across his own chest.
He turned, reaching for where he’d laid the washcloth over the edge of the sink, and-.
The door opened and a sleepy Nesta shuffled forward a step, before jumping back, a hand to her chest. “Oh, my god, Cassian, you scared the-.” She took in the image before her. “Your- Is he- What is happening?”
Cassian tried to play it cool, but at the sight of Nesta, Thorn began to babble excitedly and was wiggling in Cassian’s arms. “Good morning, beautiful, what are you doing up?”
Nesta looked at him through tired, narrow eyes. “I had to pee. What’s going on?”
“Just some father son bonding time,” Cassian lied, coolly. “We’ll just head downstairs so you can do what you need to do and-.”
He’d been trying to slip past her, but a hand was planted firmly on his chest before he could make it out of the bathroom. “What did you do to my baby? What is all over your chest?” She tried to fight off the yawn that made her pause, but she couldn’t. “And what time is it?”
“Go back to bed,” he whispered, and planted a kiss on her forehead before carrying Thorn back down the stairs, ignoring a confused, protesting Nesta. 
He grabbed a diaper from the changing basket in the living room, strapped it on his infant, and walked back into the kitchen. Thorn continued to babble as Cassian threw the garbage away, opened the pantry and pulled a bouquet of flowers and a card out, which he’d hid there after he returned from work last night. After collecting the picture frame in his hand, too, he carried them all back up the stairs. Nesta was still in the bathroom, although the sink was running. 
Thorn was picking flower petals off of one of the roses as they entered the master bedroom. Cassian was at the point that he didn’t give a damn.
He set down the picture frame, the card, the flowers, and himself on the bed. After falling back against the pillows, he laid Thorn on his chest and let out a long, slow breath. 
Thorn was instantly alert, pulling himself up on his hands to look at Cassian.
“Mission accomplished, bud. Good job,” he said, rubbing soothing circles on his back.
He babbled incoherently again and Cassian chuckled, laying back and closing his eyes. He could feel Thorn’s little heart beat against his skin and he sighed, loving this moment.
It took no time at all for Thorn to fall back asleep and Cassian to do the same. 
He only awoke five minutes later because he heard constant sniffling from beside him.
Cassian's eyes shot open, although careful not to wake Thorn as he looked at the other side of the bed where Nesta sat, the card open on her lap, staring at the little framed handprint in her hands.
“Fuck,” Cassian yawned. “I missed your reaction? Damn it.”
A laugh bubbled out of Nesta as she looked up from the handprint to her husband. “It’s pretty much what you’re seeing right now. I guess the war paint makes sense now,” she said, glancing down at the ink still covering his chest.
“You should have seen your son before I gave him a bath. Face, hair, belly, legs.” Cassian chuckled and absent mindedly resumed his circles on Thorn’s back.
Nesta lovingly set the frame on her nightstand, right next to the baby monitor. She looked at the flowers, the card, the frame and her eyes welled up with tears. “Thank you. This is- It’s perfect. I love you so much.”
Cassian lifted his arm, allowing his wife to scoot closer and lay her head in the crook of his shoulder. She brushed Thorn’s soft hair from his face and whispered, “Has he eaten?”
“Had a full bottle,” Cassian said, nestling back into the pillows.
She turned her head slightly, so she could see his face. “He’s been changed?”
He cracked an eye and he was doing his best to hide that sheepish grin she loved so much. “Technically, we’re on diaper number three of the day.”
Nesta sat up slightly and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “And he’s been burped?’
Cassian laughed, “Contrary to what our family believes, I actually can take care of our kid.”
Nesta snorted. “I never said you couldn’t, but usually I’m the one up doing it all because you’re usually at work.”
She leaned up to kiss his cheek, but Cassian turned his face and caught her lips.
“I couldn’t miss your first Mother’s Day,” he muttered against her mouth.
She snuggled up next to him, gently running a finger over Thorn’s soft cheek. “He’s the greatest gift I’ve ever gotten,” she mused, lost in the way his little fist was wrapped tight in the blanket Cassian had covered them with.
“He’s the greatest gift you’ve ever given me,” Cassian said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said, curling up against him, carefully laying her hand on Thorn’s back.
He held her as close to him as he could. “What else do you want to do for your first Mother’s Day?”
“It’s six-fifteen on a Sunday morning, my sexy ass husband has taken care of our baby, and I don’t have to get out of bed all day,” she mumbled, face pressed into his skin. “I want to sleep.”
“Sleep or sleep? Because Thorn is out….I can easily carry him into the nursery and lay him down…” Cassian muttered. 
Nesta rolled her eyes as she yawned. “Sleep.”
“Fine,” Cassian sighed, closing his eyes.
A moment passed, the three of them snuggled close in the silence.
“Although,” Nesta said, looking up at Cassian, “if you want to lay him down first-.“
Cassian was already sitting up, Thorn asleep against his chest with his little mouth hanging open. Nesta laughed as he quickly, but carefully, hurried across the hall and was back in a flash. Rather than go around to his side of the bed, he jumped onto the mattress and tackled Nesta into the pillows.
“Cassian!” She cried, laughing. His face was pressed in her face and he looked up, grinning.
“Nesta!” He said, doing a spot on impression of her scolding voice. He rolled off of her and wrapped her up in her arms, softly kissing her. He ran a hand down her body and Nesta kissed him back, her sleep quickly forgotten.
Cassian pulled away and said, “Shit…”
Nesta asked, concern in her voice, “What is it?” She looked toward the open doorway, half expecting to find their infant son standing there.
He reached across the bed and flicked the switch on the baby monitor. The sounds of their son’s room filtered through the speaker.
They both waited a moment, in silent tension, waiting to see if his silence remained. When it did, Cassian let out a loose breath and laughed, quietly.
His hands snuck up beneath her shirt, his shirt that she’d slept in.
“Happy Mother’s Day,” he whispered.
“Thanks,” she smiled, running her fingers through his hair.
“Time to make you a mommy all over again,” he muttered, mischief dancing in those hazel eyes as he pressed his mouth to hers.
Nesta laughed against his lips as she let him do just that.
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popculty · 3 years
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52 Films by Women: 2020 Edition
Another annual challenge complete!
Last year, I focused on diversifying my list. This year I kept that intention but focused on watching more non-American films and films from the 20th century. Specifically, I sought out Agnès Varda’s entire filmography, after her death in 2019. (I was not disappointed - What a filmmaking legend we lost.) 
I also kept a film log for the first time and have included some of my thoughts on several films from that log. I made a point of including reviews both positive and negative, because I think it’s important to acknowledge the variability and breadth of the canon, so as not to put every film directed by a woman on a pedestal. (Although movies directed by women must clear a much higher bar to be greenlit, meaning generally higher quality...But that’s an essay for another day :)
* = directed by a woman of color
bold = fave
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1. The Rhythm Section (2020) dir. Reed Morano - Not as good as it could have been, given Morano’s proven skill behind the camera, but also not nearly as bad as the critics made it out to be. And unbelievably refreshing to see a female revenge story not driven by sexual assault or the loss of a husband/child.
2. Cléo de 5 à 7 (1962) dir. Agnès Varda - If you ever wanted to take a real-time tour of Paris circa 1960, this is the film for you.
3. Little Women (2019) dir. Greta Gerwig - Still my favorite Little Women adaptation. I will re-watch it every year and cry.
4. Varda by Agnès (2019) dir. Agnès Varda & Didier Rouget
5. Booksmart (2019) dir. Olivia Wilde - An instant classic high school comedy romp that subverts all the gross tropes of its 1980s predecessors.
6. Girls of the Sun (2018) dir. Eva Husson
7. Blue My Mind (2017) dir. Lisa Brühlmann
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8. Portrait of a Lady On Fire (2019) dir. Céline Sciamma - Believe the hype. This film is a master thesis on the female gaze, and also just really effing gorgeous.
9. Belle Epine (2010) dir. Rebecca Zlotowski
10. Vamps (2012) dir. Amy Heckerling - With Krysten Ritter and Alicia Silverstone as modern-day vampires, I was so ready for this movie. But it feels like a bad stage play or a sit-com that’s missing a laugh-track. Bummer.
11. *Birds of Prey (2020) dir. Cathy Yan - Where has this movie been all our lives?? Skip the next onslaught of Snyder-verse grim-darkery and give me two more of these STAT! 
12. She’s Missing (2019) dir. Alexandra McGuinness
13. The Mustang (2019) dir. Laure de Clermont-Tonnere - Trigger warning for the “protagonist” repeatedly punching a horse in the chest. I noped right out of there.
14. Monster (2003) dir. Patty Jenkins – I first watched this movie when I was probably too young and haven’t revisited it since. The rape scene traumatized me as a kid, but as an adult I appreciate how that trauma is not the center of the movie, or even of Aileen’s life. Everyone still talks about how Charlize “went ugly” for this role, but the biggest transformation here isn’t aesthetic, it’s physical – the way Theron replicates Wuernos’ mannerisms, way of speaking, and physicality. That’s why she won the Oscar. I also love that Jenkins calls the film “Monster” (which everyone labels Aileen), but then actually uses it to tell the story of how she fell in love with a woman when she was at her lowest, and that saved her. That’s kind of beautiful, and I’m glad I re-watched it so that I could see the story in that light, instead of the general memory I had of it being a good, feel-bad movie. It’s so much more than that.
15. Water Lilies (2007) dir. Céline Sciamma – Sciamma’s screenwriting and directorial debut, the first in her trilogy on youth, is as painfully beautiful as its sequels (Tomboy and Girlhood). It’s also one of the rare films that explores the overlap of queerness and girl friendships.
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16. The Trouble with Angels (1966) dir. Ida Lupino – Movies about shenanigan-based female friendships are such rare delights. Rosalind Russel is divine as Mother Superior, and Hayley Mills as “scathingly brilliant” as the pranks she plays on her. Ida Lupino’s skill as an editor only enhances her directing, providing some truly iconic visual gags to complement dialogue snappy enough for Gilmore Girls. 
17. Vagabond (1985) dir. Agnès Varda – Shot with a haunting realism, this film has no qualms about its heroine’s inevitable, unceremonious death, which it opens with, matter-of-factly, before retracing her final (literal) steps to the road-side ditch she ends up in. (I’m partly convinced said heroine was the inspiration for Sarah Manning in Orphan Black.)
18. One Sings, The Other Doesn’t (1977) dir. Agnès Varda – Probably my favorite classic Varda, this film feels incredibly personal. It’s essentially a love story about two best friends with very different lives. For an indie made in the ‘70s, the diversity, scope, and themes of the film are impressive. Even if the second half a drags a bit, the first half is absolute perfection, engaging the viewer immediately, and clipping along, sprinkling in some great original songs that were way progressive for their time (about abortion, female bodily autonomy, etc) and could still be considered “bangers” today.
19. Emma (2020) dir. Autumn de Wilde
20. Black Panthers (1969) dir. Agnès Varda
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21. Into the Forest (2016) dir. Patricia Rozema - When the world was ending (i.e. the pandemic hit) this was the first movie I turned to - a quiet, meditative story of two sisters (Elliot Page and Evan Rachel Wood) surviving off the land after a sudden global blackout. Four years later, it’s still one of my favorite book-to-screen adaptations. I fondly remember speaking with director Patricia Rozema at the 2016 Chicago Critics Film Festival after a screening, her love for the source material and desire to “get it right” so apparent. I assured her then, and reaffirm now, that she really did.
22. City of Trees (2019) dir. Alexandra Swarens
23. Never Rarely Sometimes Always (2020) dir. Eliza Hittmann - To call this a harrowing and deeply personal journey of a sixteen-year-old who must cross state lines to get an abortion would be accurate, but incomplete. It is a story so much bigger than that, about the myriad ways women’s bodies and boundaries are constantly violated.
24. Paradise Hills (2019) dir. Alice Waddington
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25. *Eve’s Bayou (1996) dir. Kasi Lemmons – I’ve been meaning to watch Kasi Lemmons’ directorial debut for many years now, and I’m so glad I finally have, because it fully deserves its icon status, beyond being one of the first major films directed by a black woman. Baby Jurnee Smollett's talent was immediately recognizable, and she has reminded us of it in Birds of Prey and Lovecraft Country this year. If merit was genuinely a factor for Oscar contenders, she would have taken home gold at eleven years old. Beasts of the Southern Wild has been one of my all-time favorites, but now I realize that most of my appreciation for that movie actually goes to Lemmons for blazing the trail with her story of a young black girl from the bayou first. It’s also a surprisingly dark story about memory and abuse and familial relationships that cross lines - really gutsy and surprising themes, especially for the ‘90s.
26. Blow the Man Down (2019) dir. Bridget Savage Cole & Danielle Krudy - Come and get your sea shanty fix!
27. Touchy Feely (2013) dir. Lynn Shelton - R.I.P. :(
28. Hannah Gadsby: Douglas (2020) dir. Madeleine Parry - If you thought Gadsby couldn’t follow up 2018′s sensational Nanette with a comedy special just as sharp and hilarious, you would have been sorely mistaken.
29. Girlhood (2013) dir. Céline Sciamma
30. Breathe (2014) dir. Mélanie Laurent
31. *A Dry White Season (1989) dir. Euzhan Palcy
32. Laggies (2014) dir. Lynn Shelton
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33. *The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood – Everything I’ve ever wanted in an action movie: Immortal gays, Charlize Theron wielding a labrys (battle axe), kinetic fight choreography I haven’t seen since the last Bond movie…Watched it twice, then devoured the comics it was adapted from, and I gotta say: in the hands of black women, it eclipses the source material. Cannot wait for the just-announced sequel.
34. Morvern Callar (2002) dir. Lynn Ramsay
35. Shirley (2020) dir. Josephine Decker
36. *Radioactive (2019) dir. Marjane Satrapi – The story is obviously well worth telling and the narrative structure – weaving in the future consequences of Curie’s discoveries – is clever, but a bit awkwardly executed and overly manipulative. There are glimpses of real brilliance throughout, but it feels as if the director’s vision was not fully realized, to my great disappointment. Nonetheless, I appreciated seeing Marie Curie's story being told by a female director and embodied by the always wonderful Rosamund Pike.
37. *The Half of It (2020) dir. Alice Wu - I feel like a real scrooge for saying this, but this movie did nothing for me. Nothing about it felt fresh, authentic or relatable. A real disappointment from the filmmaker behind the wlw classic Saving Face.
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38. Mouthpiece (2018) dir. Patricia Rozema - I am absolutely floored. One of those films that makes you fall in love with the art form all over again. Patricia Rozema continues to prove herself one of the most creatively ambitious and insightful directors of our time, with this melancholic meditation on maternal grief and a woman’s duality.
39. Summerland (2020) dir. Jessica Swale - The rare period wlw love story that is not a) all-white or b) tragedy porn. Just lovely.
40. *The Last Thing He Wanted (2020) dir. Dee Rees – As rumored, a mess. Even by the end, I still couldn’t tell you who any of the characters are. Dee, we know you’re so much better than this! (see: Mudbound, Pariah)
41. *Cuties (2020) dir. Maïmouna Doucouré – I watched this film to 1) support a black woman director who has been getting death threats for her work and 2) see what all the fuss is about. While I do think there were possibly some directorial choices that could have saved quite a bit of the pearl-clutching, overall, I didn’t find it overly-exploitative or gross, as many (who obviously haven’t actually watched the film) have labeled it. It certainly does give me pause, though, and makes me wonder whether children can ever be put in front of a camera without it exploiting or causing harm to them in some way. It also makes one consider the blurry line between being a critique versus being an example. File this one under complicated, for sure.
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42. A Call to Spy (2019) Lydia Dean Pilcher – An incredible true story of female spies during WWII that perfectly satisfied my itch for British period drama/spy thriller and taught me so much herstory I didn’t know.
43. Kajillionaire (2020) dir. Miranda July - I was lucky enough to attend the (virtual) premiere of this film, followed by an insightful cast/director Q&A, which only made me appreciate it more. July's offbeat dark comedy about a family of con artists is queerer and more heartfelt than it has any right to be, and a needed reprieve in a year of almost entirely white wlw stories. The family's shenanigans are the hook, but it's the budding relationship between Old Dolio (an almost unrecognizable Evan Rachel Wood) and aspiring grifter Melanie (the luminous Gina Rodriguez) that is the heart of the story.
44. Misbehaviour (2020) dir. Philippa Lowthorpe – Again, teaching me herstory I didn’t know, about how the Women’s Liberation Movement stormed the 1970 Miss World Pageant. Keira Knightley and Gugu Mbatha-Raw’s characters have a conversation in a bathroom at the end of the film that perfectly eviscerates well-meaning yet ignorant white feminism, without ever pitting women against each other - a feat I didn’t think was possible. I also didn’t think it was possible to critique the male gaze without showing it (*ahem Cuties, Bombshell, etc*), but this again, invents a way to do it. Bless women directors.
45. *All In: The Fight for Democracy (2020) dir. Liz Garbus and Lisa Cortes – 2020’s 13th. Thank god for Stacey Abrams, that is all.
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46. *The 40-Year-Old Version (2020) dir. Radha Blank – This scene right here? I felt that in my soul. This whole film is so good and funny and heartfelt and relatable to any artist trying to walk that tightrope of “making it” while not selling their soul to make it. My only initial semi-note was that it’s a little long, but after hearing Radha Blank talk about how she fought for the two-hour run-time as a way of reclaiming space for older black women, I take it back. She’s right: Let black women take up space. Let her movie be as long as she wants it to be. GOOD FOR HER.
47. Happiest Season (2020) dir. Clea Duvall - Hoooo boy. What was marketed as the first lesbian Christmas rom-com is actually a horror movie for anyone who’s ever had to come out. Throw in casual racism and a toxic relationship treated as otp, and it’s YIKES on so many levels. Aubrey Plaza, Dan Levy, and an autistic-coded Jane are the only (underused) highlights.
48. *Monkey Beach (2020) dir. Loretta Todd
49. *Little Chief (2020) dir. Erica Tremblay – A short film part of the 2020 Red Nation Film Festival, it’s a perfect eleven minutes that I wish had gone on longer, if only to bask in Lily Gladstone in a leading role.
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50. First Cow (2019) dir. Kelly Reichardt – I know Kelly Reichardt’s style, so I’ll admit-- even as I was preparing for an excellent film, I was also reaching for my phone, planning on only half paying attention during all the inevitable 30-second shots of grass blowing in the wind. (And yes, there are plenty of those.) But twenty minutes in, my phone was set aside and forgotten, as I am getting sucked into this beautiful story about two frontiersman trying to live their best domestic life.There is only one word to describe this film and that is: PURE. I’ve never seen such a tender platonic relationship between men on screen before, and it’s not lost on me that it took a woman to show us that tenderness. Reichardt gives us two men brought together by fate, and kept together by a shared dream and the simple pleasure of not being alone in such a hard world; two men who spend their days cooking, trapping, baking, and dreaming of a better life; two men who don’t say much, but feel everything for each other. The world would be a much better place if men showed us this kind of vulnerability and friendship toward each other. Oh, and it’s also a brutal take-down of capitalism and the myth of the American Dream!
51. Wonder Woman 1984 (2020) dir. Patty Jenkins - My most-anticipated film for the past two years was...well, a mixed bag, to say the least. Too many thoughts on it for a blog post, so stay tuned for the upcoming podcast ep where we go all in ;)
52. *Selah and the Spades (2019) dir. Tayarisha Poe
I hope this gives you some ideas to kick off your new year with a resolution to support more female directors!
What were your favorite women-directed movies of last year? Let me know in the tags, comments, or asks!
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THE UNTAMED, YOUR CHOICE OF OURAN AU, SOUL EATER AU, S&S AU, OR CORPSE BRIDE AU
OKAYI’M GOING TO DO THE OURAN AU BECAUSE I THINK IT’S REALLY FUNNY AND I MADE THEBAD CHOICE™ OF READING A BUNCH OF NEWS TODAY.  Uh.  Mycomputer crashed halfway through this and I think somehow it got longer,so.  Sorry about that one.
ONE
Wen Ning is a scholarship student.  He’s more than ascholarship student, really, he’s a here by the grace of every godever and also his sister student who also, incidentally, is ona scholarship.  The phenomenally wealthy Wen family recently went down ina blaze of indignity and political scandal, but newly-broke Wen Qing is not hearing any arguments about sending her babybrother to a less-than-top-of-the-line high school, especially since he acedthe tests and was given a full ride except for books and uniform.  SinceWen Qing was halfway through med school at the time of the Wen scandal, they’reburning through their meager inheritance to get her degree and make ends meetfor food, on the gamble eventually they might be able to move out of their absolutelyshit one-bedroom apartment on a doctor’s salary and also because Wen Ning pointblank refused to let her drop out.  Therefore, when Wen Ning tries to hideout in an empty music room and accidentally breaks a very expensive vase, he hasa moment of abject dread and–well, yeah, okay, he’ll work it off, he guesses.
TWO
WeiWuxian isn’t actually planning to charge this kid for a vase that is definitelyworth more than the entire apartment building he lives in!  Wei Wuxian isnot an asshole!  It’s just that he hasnever seen this scholarship kid with the secondhand clothes and the long hairhiding his face and the unfortunate name speak to anyone outside of absolutelymandatory conversation, and it’s kind of depressing.  So, Wuxian has decided to adopt him, teachhim how to talk to people, and maybe buy him a ponytail holder.  He has about five seconds to get all of thatout on the third day since recruiting Wen Ning, when a very petite woman in ared coat storms in like a hurricane and corners Wuxian alone (or rather, withonly Lan Wangji, which is as close as it gets) with apparently homicidal intentto snarl, “If you’re messing with my brother’s head, no one will ever find yourbody.”
(WenNing did not mention being low-key press-ganged into a host club on the firstday.  On the second day, he came home ina real uniform that actually fit, with his hair cut into something thatresembled a style and pulled back from his face, and he had to spill hisguts because not even Wen Qing’s sleep schedule was going to make her miss thatone.)
Turnsout that the sister Wen Ning mentioned, implying that she was the same kind ofangelic creature as Jiang Yanli, is fucking terrifying.  Wei Wuxian rambles through hisexplanation so fast that he kind of doubts Wen Qing gets all of it, and then hewaves his hands helplessly and says, “I don’t know, he just seemed kind oflonely?”  Wen Qing narrows her eyes athim.  “It’s true!  I never see him talk to anyone!”
“A-Ningis a good kid,” she says, shoving a finger into Wuxian’s chestthreateningly.  “Our family never likedhim because he’s too nice, and no one else likes him because of his name, so ifI hear you’re messing with him…”
“Iswear,” Wuxian says, raising his hand.  “Ijust thought maybe it would be good for him, having some people to hang outwith.”
WenQing studies him for another moment, and then she steps back and nods and says,“It will be.”
Andthat’s how the host club gets a part-time manager in addition to its latestrecruit.
THREE
Thehosts are:
[rose_petal_animation.gif]
WeiWuxian, whois nominally in charge because he came up with this whole idea, on the argumentthat, quote, “Jiang Cheng needs to learn to be nicer.”  It was also tacitly agreed that he and JiangCheng needed something that would keep them out of the house and therefore outof Madam Yu’s way after school, and they’d already been kicked out of themartial arts club after a slight incident involving Wei Wuxian’s fist, JinZixuan’s face, and Jiang Cheng’s unapologetic support.  Wuxian went around and recruited some folks,and now he has a host club, which, in his opinion, is markedly more fun thanthe martial arts club.  The Mischievoustype.
JiangCheng,who has spent three years in this circus and is not noticeably nicer.  He’s likable enough with the guests, but nomatter what Wei Wuxian says, Jiang Cheng does know how to be civil whenthe situation calls for it.  He spends mostof his time trying to reign in his brother’s more wild ideas, but his successrate isn’t great, because their sets-and-costumes guy is a horrible enablerwith family money who is more than willing to contribute to all kinds ofnonsense as long as he can show up with a fan and look mysterious while hewatches the chaos at their events.  JiangCheng says he’s the Long-Suffering type but actually he’s the Bad Boy typebecause of his temper.
JinZixuan,who is only here because his mother said he’d be grounded until he graduatesunless he found a good extracurricular and he didn’t know who ran the host clubwhen he blurted out that he was planning to join it.  Now he’s committed because his mother will notsupport him leaving and it’s been three years and also he still hasn’t gottenJiang Yanli’s phone number, which has become absolutely necessary because thethree minutes he sees her every Thursday when she comes to get her brothers fortheir weekly sibling dinner are the best of his week.  There is a good chance Zixuan’s going to getpunched again when he finally gets his courage up to ask her out, but sometimesit be like that.  The Princely type, althoughhe’s hopeless when he’s not playing a part.
LanWangji, treasurer,who is only here because Wei Wuxian asked him to be, and everyone (except WeiWuxian) knows it.  He’s still remarkablypopular with the guests, despite the fact that most people are lucky to get fiveconsecutive words out of him and it’s a known fact that he’ll bow out of aconversation with nothing more than a brief apology and a nod the moment Wuxiancalls him.  Somehow, three years later,Wuxian has not picked up on the fact that Wangji is really not here tolearn to talk to women.  Save him.  The Stoic type.
LanXichen, generalsource of stability if not necessarily common sense, who is here because hisbrother is here.  He and Wen Qing bondimmediately over their shared Protective Older Sibling energies, although WenQing is very much here to beat up anyone who looks sideways at her brother andXichen is very much here to wingman his brother as hard as he can manage.  He’s a year older than the others, graduatingthis year, and the most popular host by a long shot.  The Chivalrous type.
WenNing, who,yeah, is wide-eyed and shy and tends to start stuttering if more than threeguests are looking at him at any given moment, but he has an apparently innatetalent for sweet and unassuming kindness that’s a big hit.  The guests are charmed by his nervousness andthey’re always happy to listen to him talk about his favorite subjects (his sister,his friends, and archery, which he currently can’t afford to do but knowseverything about, in that order). The Natural type.
Honorablemention to Nie Mingjue, who graduated last year and was only partof the host club because Lan Xichen made him. Which is to say, Xichen smiled at him and talked about how gladhe was that Wangji was making friends and how good it would look onMingjue’s college applications as a complement to his more athleticextracurriculars and how happy Huaisang would be to do something withhis brother, and then Mingjue blinked and boom, host club.  He doesn’t have any idea what happened.  Xichen is like that.  The Jock type.
FOUR
NieHuaisang has been Wei Wuxian’s top enabler and partner in chaos since they werein middle school and he also knows everyone and everything despite hisreputation as a top-notch dumbass.  Hisentire rationale for not being part of the host club is that it wouldrequire him to admit to knowing things, and he Won’t, which—top student Wei “IHandle My Adequacy Issues By Being Smart But Also Have Guilt About It” Wuxiandoesn’t totally get that, but sure, okay, proceed.  Huaisang does, however, have anexcellent grasp of how to acquire all manner of strange things, so he is theirone-man supply center for all manner of wild concepts.  One time he got an entire apple treenext-day-shipped just to prove he could.
Also,Huaisang is personally responsible for making most of the host club’s money,because he has a camera and a good sense for the kind of pictures that peoplewill pay for.  Even funneling most of the money back into funding the club activities, Huaisang is still managing to turn a decent profit all told.  He takes a nice 7% cut for himself (friends and family discount), which is half the reason Mingjue didn’t kick up even more of a fuss about it.
Huaisang’svisceral hatred of the head editor of the school paper is the best kept secretin the school but on god Huaisang’s connections are better than that JinGuangyao asshole’s and he’s going to take him down before graduation.
FIVE
Halfwaythrough the school year, Wei Wuxian gets in a car wreck and the way Lan Wangjireacts to being the first number the paramedics find in Wuxian’s phone is informative.  It’s taken five and a half years, four brokenribs, a punctured lung, a concussion, and a spirited yelling sessionfrom Jiang Cheng, among other things, but Wei Wuxian has finally managed to geta clue.
Anda boyfriend.
Nowall they need to do is resolve Huaisang’s vendetta, figure out how the hell afirst year like Xue Yang managed to so comprehensively destroy ex-teacher XiaoXingchen’s reputation, and try and make it to Wen Qing’s graduation on time,and they’re golden.
#the untamed#mdzs#mo dao zu shi#wei wuxian#wen ning#ouran au#ask meme#headcanon meme#if you went 'hey where's mianmian' i'm sorry to inform you that she's too smart for this au!#mianmian is off living a completely sane life somewhere! she has a nice boyfriend and a healthy social life!#there is a HARD max of one truly sensible person in any ouran au and wen qing is already here!#'oh star lxc is sensible' no he's not. have you ever even glimpsed the source material. lxc is himbo supreme he's just quiet about it.#anyway i'm not sure how jgy wronged nmj in this au...but he did and nhs is out for BLOOD#this is a good au and it makes me happy but also i've been looking at it for So Long trying to remember what i wrote before#what else was i going to say about this au#oh! right! xy arranged to have xxc's reputation destroyed for 'inappropriate behavior on campus' with his bf song lan#and also implied although did not QUITE accuse outright that xxc came onto him#don't worry nhs has proof of that one also! this is a happy endings only au and that means that xxc gets his job back#after nhs has successfully orchestrated a LOT of disciplinary action#i sort of feel like wwx and lwj take more of a backseat in the host club after this year and jiang cheng (to his horror)#discovers that the nominal leadership has fallen on him#oh and also one time jzx made jyl cry and her brothers never forgave and they never forgot#the crying was after the punching though so it could be said that there was pre-existing resentment#asked and answered#cthulhu-with-a-fez
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houseofhurricane · 3 years
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ACOTAR Fic: Bloom & Bone (5/32) | Elain x Tamlin, Lucien x Vassa
Summary: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court, trying to prevent the Dread Trove from falling into the wrong hands and wrestling with the gifts the Cauldron imparted when she was Made. Lucien, asked to join her, must contend with secrets about his mating bond. Meanwhile, Tamlin struggles to lead the Spring Court in the aftermath of the war with Hybern. And Vassa, the human queen in their midst, wrestles with the enchantment that turns her into a firebird by day, robbing her of the power of speech and human thought. Looming over all of them is uniquet peace in Prythian and the threat of Koschei, the death-god with unimaginable power. With powers both magical and monstrous, the quartet at the Spring Court will have to wrestle with their own natures and the evil that surrounds them. Will the struggle save their world, or doom it?
A/N: I both love and hate writing Lucien (and Vassa! more of her soon) because he's really smart and perceptive, and honestly it's always easier to write characters who know less than I do. But these are my very favorite characters to read about, so, you know, writing growth? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ You can read early previews of the next chapter every Tuesday by following @house.of.hurricane on Instagram. And as always, you can read all chapters at AO3 if you prefer. You can find all chapters here.
Lucien watches the despair in Elain’s eyes transfigure itself into fear. On reflex, he reaches for the place her hands should be, but his fingers slice through the air. He works his way up her arms, his fingers skittering to find whatever is left of her body, and when he feels her elbow, her upper arm, the curve of her shoulder, his breath rushes into his lungs, pure relief.
“You’re all right,” he says, his palms on her shoulders, a lie he needs her to believe. He’s long suspected that the Cauldron gave Elain some formidable magic and that she has never learned to wield it, and now he thinks that gift is swallowing her up. He does not want her to see his fear, to begin to panic. He takes another deep breath, forces his heart to slow.
“What is so wrong with me?”
She reaches out for him again and he notices that her sleeves do not move as if they’re empty. The fabric moves around a wrist that is no longer present in the world, a magic Lucien knows is beyond his capability to resolve. It lacks the familiar resonance of spells or Fae power, as if whatever has hold of Elain is more tightly woven into the fabric of this world.
“There is nothing wrong with you,” he says, instead. His fingers press against her shoulder blades, his thumbs against her clavicles, the bones that are solid and here. He has heard all the meanings in her question and answers the one he knows will infuriate her most, distract her from the disappearance of her hands. “I didn’t think you’d realize. I didn’t think you even wanted me.”
She sighs, too polite to agree or tell an obvious lie.
“I wanted to want you,” she says, the rage and panic slipping from her voice, a cool despair taking hold. He feels for her elbows and cannot find them, and Lucien realizes, trying to contain his smile, that he’s figured out the rules of this game. Sometimes the world feels as simple as a key in a lock.
“You were always looking elsewhere. How could you imagine I wouldn’t get tired of rejection?”
“Aren’t we all going to live for thousands of years?”
“So you thought I could wait for at least one hundred.”
“I thought you would let me…” He watches her eyes carefully focus on his, trying to hide her thinking as she reaches for the right word. The cover might fool anybody else, but Lucien has been looking for tells since he could walk, trying to survive the Autumn Court.
“I think you are only upset because you feel discarded,” he says, quickly, and feels her elbow against his palm.
“You smell of Vassa. The human queen.”
“You were a human not so long ago.” How quick she is to adopt the High Fae prejudices, sneer when she says the word human. He would be more annoyed if he didn’t feel her arms rematerializing.
“My sister told me how you treated her.” The swerve to this insult is clumsy, a baby’s first steps, but he’s still intrigued by this seeming transfiguration to Elain’s personality. Previously, she has dealt out all her slights with silence, at least where he’s concerned.
“And yet you stay in Tamlin’s home.” He keeps his voice low and silky, which he knows is infuriating.
“I thought he was your friend.” Her cheeks are pink and Lucien wonders if maybe he’ll be spared from this deception sooner than he thought.
Below her sleeves, Elain’s wrists are now visible.
“Our lives are too long for you to remain an ornament,” he says, casting around for an insult strong enough to really rouse her, force her to stay. Somehow Lucien has always been asked to rescue the women who will fall in love with other men, which is probably why Vassa is so eminently capable of saving herself.
“You’ve made me into an ornament!”
And when she swings a hand toward him, he doesn’t mind the ineffectual slap because he feels the tips of her fingers on his cheek. Still, when Elain runs toward the house, her whole body intact, he wonders if she even realizes what happened, its magnitude and implications. Even after all his years of attention and scheming, he cannot quite conjure an explanation.
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Elain cannot stop running one hand over the other, tracing the curve of her fingernail, her knuckle, the tendons at the back of her hands and the bones of her wrists. You’re here, you’re whole, you have all your fingers and all your toes, she whispers to herself, sounding like Feyre fussing over Nyx.
She had still felt her fingers, her arm, connected to her body, but they were distant, prickling, as if she’d slept on them and the blood was reentering each limb. Where had she gone?
Elain does not think much on the argument with Lucien. She’d seen the panic in his eyes, surely a mirror of her own. His words were a frantic spell, a summoning.
Her mind catches, instead, on the look when he’d found her screaming and wailing all her grief. The pity in his eyes. She cannot imagine how this male is supposed to be her mate, her one true love.
Gradually she banishes the image of him from her mind. She replaces him with the surety of her fingers, the line of dirt that never disappears from under her fingernails without magic, the little etchings at each knuckle. All present and near and normal.
She falls asleep without eating her dinner, her hands clutched around each other.
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“That could have gone better,” Vassa says by way of hello, as soon as Lucien walks into her bedroom. There’s no point in distance, now that Elain already knows what’s between them. Still, Lucien hesitates before he kisses Vassa. The lie is relatively easy to maintain when he’s far from Elain, but now they will be close for weeks or months, maybe longer. Now he will have to practice some form of daily pining, particularly for Tamlin, who knows the way the mating bond can wreak havoc on a male.
“She’s more observant than I remembered,” he says, unbuttoning his tunic. The hardest part of all this lying are the words he says to Vassa, which are often so unlike the phrases he wants to bestow on her.
“Is this the way all mates behave?”
“Sometimes our marriages are political. I’ve heard this is a common practice in the human realms.”
Vassa swats him.
“You forget how long I’ve been around your people, now.”
“Hardly any time at all, for us.” He drapes his tunic over her desk, where she’s left pages covered with her blots and scribbles out for anyone to read. Was Vassa always so trusting, or does she simply believe her thoughts are so uninteresting for his people to contemplate? Her handwriting is bad enough that it’s possible she believes no one will bother to decipher it.
“I never knew you to be cruel,” she says, and when he turns to her he sees the hurt in Vassa’s eyes.
“I would never hurt you.”
She sighs from her chest, the sound as deep as a groan.
“A queen is expected to have better judgement.”
“The situation is more complex than it appears.”
“Men often say this in simple situations when they are in the wrong.”
Vassa’s shoulders are thrown back, her arms across her chest. She has told him that queens must show mercy but also embody justice, and Lucien has no doubts about which quality she thinks is vital in this moment.
“Do you know how easy it would be for a High Fae of certain talents to learn all of the secrets in your mind?” He’s begun to work on the buttons of his shirt, hoping he can distract her from an argument, though he knows from experience that at this point, when her eyes are bright and calculating, that any attempt is futile.
“You’ve shown me how to make a mental shield and you’ve told me secrets.”
“This secret endangers the peace between our courts.” He does not tell her a skilled daemati could storm her mental shields in a second. Vassa is rightfully proud of her own strength and cunning, and he has caused her enough hurt tonight.
“And yet you’ve made it obvious to anybody who cares to pay attention.”
“Tell me what you think you know.”
“Elain Archeron is not your mate.”
He keeps his face too still and triumph flashes on her face, transfigured quickly into a more sober expression as her mind whirls into action, her eyes now a brighter blue, her lower lip caught between her teeth, an expression he wants to memorize and study until he can never forget it.
“That would only be a political disaster if you knew her real mate,” she says, moments later. Her voice is hushed but still the words echo. “And why has he or she not challenged you?”
“I’m not sure,” he says, glad that he can tell her this truth, for the wide description that shows that Vassa hasn’t guessed they’re in the grand home of Elain Archeron’s actual mate. “I would have thought--”
“Tell me.” Vassa steps toward him, extends her hand.
“You are safest if I tell you nothing.” He reaches for her hands, twines her fingers in his own. Her skin is so soft, so new. He would not be surprised to learn that the spell remakes her body completely each evening.
She raises her eyebrow, refusing to be drawn in completely. “I am under a curse and bound to a death-lord, Lucien. You think I’m afraid of a little court intrigue?”
“All of our monsters have been awfully good to you.” He presses a kiss to her jaw, her earlobe. He’ll make a map of her, catalogue the way Vassa feels against his lips. He doesn’t want to think of Elain or Tamlin any longer. The only benefit to this evening’s scene should be that he can share a room with Vassa to only moderate approbation.
“Tell me, Lucien.”
“What if I share another revelation?”
“Dazzle me, Lucien Vanserra,” she says, her voice so dry he lets out a bark of laughter in spite of himself. Cauldron boil this woman’s enemies, the ambassadors who will visit Scythia from foreign courts.
“Elain was weeping when I found her.”
“Naturally. Her mate was dallying with another woman.”
“I can’t tell if you’re making sport of me,” he says.
“I feel sorry for the girl.”
“You’re barely older than she is.”
“Some women -- or females, I suppose -- remain girls longer than others. Anyway, she was weeping.”
“The word might not be strong enough. She was screaming loud enough to rouse the village. But when she heard me approach, her hands had disappeared.”
“Surely you’ve seen more impressive magic in your storied centuries.”
He explains the buried quality of the magic, the way the reappearance of Elain’s hands had been so clearly connected to her emotions, her seeming lack of comprehension at all that had happened.
“That seems a useful talent, if she could control it. An invisible woman would make a perfect spy. Do you think that’s why she was sent here?”
“I don’t think Elain is in control of any of her powers.”
“She has others?”
“Rhysand has never said exactly what, but I gather that he and his court have noticed that she has other abilities. But I’d be surprised if this wasn’t the first time this disappearance manifested itself.”
“Perhaps you’re underestimating her. She could be gathering intelligence for the Night Court.”
“If so, Rhysand would never have summoned us.”
“He doesn’t trust our host.”
“I wouldn’t put it past Rhys to contrive a situation where Elain and I were trapped in the same house.”
“The firebird would be included for what, romantic lighting?”
He pulls her close against him, so that the embroidery of her gown lays down its marks on his skin.
“Included for your knowledge of Koschei,” he says, because on the whole it is a relief to tell her the truth, “and also for my great good luck.”
Vassa lifts her cheek from his shoulder to smile at him and despite the evening’s events, he smiles back at her, celebrates the tiny solitary miracle that is the two of them together in her room. No matter the secrets, the lies he has to tell to contain them, Lucien finds himself believing in that moment that everything will be all right.
He’s always found delusion to be a particularly heady emotion.
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In the morning, before dawn, Lucien is in a rush, fumbling with his clothes and pulling Vassa from her bed before she transforms and singes the mattress. Tamlin’s servants meet them at the door with a wrapped breakfast that he doubts Vassa will have a chance to eat, and sure enough, before they’re halfway across the gardens, Vassa is a firebird, flapping her wings across the lavender sky, the new dawn.
She does not speak in this form but she follows him easily as he makes his way through the trees, looping and diving to get a better idea of the terrain. In this form she is formidable but still very exposed, and since the war, she’s learned to be vigilant.
After an hour of walking, they reach the lake nearest to Tamlin’s estate, and Vassa launches herself at the sparkling water. Around her, the water bubbles, the steam rising from the place where she dove. Lucien settles himself on a boulder and scans the forest, palms his dagger in one hand and his breakfast in the other. When he’s sure that the only sounds are Vassa’s splashing and the other birds awakening, he puts the knife down and eats the bread and eggs and cheese, watching her flames mirrored on the surface of the water.
Tending to Vassa was the work of servants for months before Lucien took it over, well before they’d wound up in their latest arrangement. He enjoys watching the world wake up, loves watching her transformation, imagining the way that she beholds the world in this form. She has trouble describing the experience, only its limitations, but he can see Vassa’s character inside the bird, her watchfulness and unbroken spirit. If he does not keep her sufficiently entertained, she’ll splash him or draw close enough to leave a burn on his sleeve. As a result, Lucien has told her nearly all of his stories, decades of court intrigue and gossip, rivalries and petty jealousies and tendres. At first, he wrapped these stories in fine telling, with voices and dramatic pauses as if she were a paying audience. But gradually, as they grew more familiar, he began to tell her the stories and secrets that stuck inside him, his voice low and sometimes hesitant. He’s told her about Jessaminda, about Tamlin’s kindness and his rage, the way that despite most evidence to the contrary, he still doesn’t fully trust the Night Court. During these stories, Vassa always watches him with her great blue eyes, still as a swan while she circles the lake.
At night, Vassa will tell him her own secrets, the intrigues of her court, and though Lucien had long scorned the human realms, he finds herself drawn in by the tales, asking her questions, trying to better envision her world.
Behind him, a fallen branch cracks under a foot and the birds scatter. Lucien is on his feet in an instant, Vassa a warm fire close behind.
When he sees the golden beast, Lucien takes a breath before returning his dagger to his belt. Tamlin has appeared more in control lately, but he’s witnessed enough of his old friend’s behavior over the past few years that Lucien can’t be sure there won’t be an explosion.
“You’ve found a pretty spot to while away the morning,” Tamlin says. The words would be charming if the fangs of the beast weren’t quite so large and sharp.
“I promised to show Vassa your lands.”
“I gather that you’ve made many promises to Vassa.”
Lucien holds himself still. He wants to reach for his dagger, give Tamlin an idea of the danger he’s courting, but knows the gesture would reveal too much. Just this once, he’s grateful that Vassa is unable to speak in this form.
“Rhys recruited you to play matchmaker?” he says instead, trying for the kind of courtly sneer that comes so easily to Eris.
Tamlin shakes his head, sending leaves spiralling out of his golden fur, and then in a flash of light, he’s High Fae again, tall and golden against the trees. Lucien is sure that all the motion was simply a distraction from his shuddering at the idea of being implicated in one of Rhysand’s schemes, however harmless, but once again he wonders if Tamlin senses the mating bond.
“I came to seek your counsel,” Tamlin says.
“Vassa--”
“We’ll stay nearby. You will have the chance to defend your queen.”
Lucien looks toward Vassa, who bobs her head on its long neck as if to say go on.
From behind, Tamlin looks the way he always has, his warrior’s body always ready to strike as he strikes a relentless pace through the trees, and Lucien can imagine that he and Tamlin are the friends they were before Amarantha, before Feyre and the war with Hybern, before the Archeron sisters wound up in the Cauldron. It startles him to think that this before is now long ago, past the human lifespan.
When Tamlin stops, his face is grim, his mouth bracketed by deep lines that Lucien has never seen before.
“Why did Rhysand send you here?” he asks, the words almost lost in his growl. There are talons, now, where his fingers were seconds ago.
“I haven’t spoken to him in weeks,” Lucien says. He’d been avoiding the entire Night Court, thinking of what they’d report back to Elain, the implications. “You were the one who asked me to come here, remember?”
“I forget nothing.” Tamlin’s eyes make Lucien think of trees after an unexpected ice storm, the leaves a deeper, brighter green within their crystallized prison. He’s thinking of Feyre’s escapes, the way Lucien aided her and fled himself. The memories of the High Fae are too long for comfortable recollection.
“His people were investigating Koschei,” Lucien says when it’s clear that Tamlin will not elaborate on his suspicions. This is common enough knowledge by now. He should have found a way to the Night Court over the past week, but he was too focused on those last nights with Vassa which have turned out, now, not to be so finally over after all. “I’m sure that’s why they asked for Vassa. And if Elain was sent to your court, I think that matchmaking is once again the most likely answer.”
Tamlin snorts. “There will be hell to pay when Rhysand finds out you’ve rejected Elain.”
There’s a rustle in the trees and Lucien whirls toward it, his knives in his hands. Nobody appears. Since Amarantha arrived in Prythian, he’s stopped trusting these woods.
“Who is patrolling your borders?” Lucien asks. He hadn’t spotted anyone when he and Vassa approached yesterday, but Tamlin’s sentries know these forests, would surely have been warned about the firebird.
“I keep my lands safe.” His voice is gruff, tight, the pride and shame braided together.
“The army you raised--”
“The people of these lands feared Hybern more than they hated me. Once peace was assured, they went back to their homes.”
“Perhaps a visit from their High Lord would convince them.”
“A High Lord who could offer them what, exactly?”
All at once, Lucien is exhausted with this self-loathing.
“Your people will not love you overmuch when the Autumn Court storms your lands, or if a force from the continent invades. Without a wall, your lands are exposed for the taking.”
“There are tales of the beast who roams these lands.”
“Everyone knows that beast is you, Tamlin.”
A surge of power in the air around them, sharp-toothed. Far away, Lucien hears the beat of wings on water, knows that Vassa felt it.
As he always has, Lucien holds still until Tamlin’s temper ebbs. He imagines what it must be, to feel you’ve had everything you wanted and then have it pulled away. To have been held, Under the Mountain, the principal subject of Amarantha’s poisoned regard.
But this time, Lucien does not feel his own anger melt away. What happens if Vassa is captured, or Elain? Each would command a hefty ransom. Elain could drive the lands to war; he’s still puzzled by her powers but can only conclude that they are mighty and dangerous, if it’s anything like the magic her sisters command. But it’s the image of Vassa, back in Koschei’s clutches, which tears at Lucien’s heart, drives him forward.
“I would help you raise the troops,” he says, the force in his voice a surprise even to himself. “Elain and Vassa could be trusted to rouse support. Your people will remember their roles in the war with Hybern. With a little kindness and a little pleading and ample compensation, all of which are seemingly too much for you, they could even be persuaded to remember the way you double-crossed the king of Hybern and joined the battle at a crucial moment. They can still be rallied, should the High Lord care enough. But you have given up on these people and these lands. You think that once your enemies have slaughtered you, then it will only be oblivion and peace, and that might be true in your own experience, but you forget the fact that when your lands are overrun, it will be your people who suffer day by day. They know this already even if you refuse to acknowledge reality. And so they will not mourn you when your lands are seized and you yourself are killed prowling your imagined borders. You will not be worth a single tear.”
Tamlin’s eyes are wide, and before the anger can burn in them, Lucien stalks off in the direction of the lake.
Behind him, the forest is silent.
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lord-king-saint · 4 years
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✨7TH HOUSE SHADOW WORK (PART ONE)✨
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DISCLAIMER: Depending on your level of integration, you may not relate to these descriptions of the signs. Without integrating the sister sign, there are deficits in the personality. As we integrate our sister signs' qualities, we tend to relate better to the world.
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✨aries: energetic and forceful mars rarely allows others to influence you or "impress" upon you. it guards you with its fiery armor against absorbing too many perspectives-- and rightly so! people who juggle too many perspectives always vaccilate and diffuse their energies! it can feel like a betrayal to you when someone is always taking the middle-ground. a warrior has to attach to its goal, or they die! so why are so many fools getting the jump on you? whats up with those "certain people" who get under your skin and drive you mad? how do they charm you and expose you so easily? its their ability to "drink in" your perspective. they allow themselves to be impressed upon by you, but they use that data like an artist. yeah, their energy is diffuse, and thats why you are so easily drawn into them, like everyone else. you may be jealous of people who are charismatic and very liked. aries can be popular and well-liked too, but its usually because your audience is compatible with your forceful energy-- or they like you despite it! but venusians win hearts, and relationships, because they make room for others in their psyche. can you make room? or does it feel like obliteration?
✨taurus: you see no need to rennovate your entire personality. youve carefully crafted yourself and your surroundings, based on what you think is beautiful, and valuable, and conserves the most energy. you dont have time to constantly deconstruct and rebuild yourself. even though you want to improve in some areas, you won't throw the baby out with the bath water. after all, you have earthy goals to achieve. youre comfortable in your skin and your rituals work for you, because theyre tailored to your delicate sensual nature. you dont want to be ruffled, or hurried, or over-stimulated. thats why those "certain people" irk you so much. theyre always trying to penetrate your exterior and reveal these deep truths about you. whats their angle? why do they want to unravel you? it feels like they just want to tear you apart, and then be the ones to put you together again. it feels like a power play-- and furthermore, it sounds exhausting. you dont need to expose the deep dark motivations inside you. youre doing just fine because you march steady and refined toward your goal. thats why youre confused when people say youre oblivious. when people confide in you, and you dont investigate the secret longings of their hearts, and the bitter past that forged them, they say they feel unseen. you want someone around because theyre "valuable", but when you dont merge with their inner world, youre treating them like an object. you prefer to build trust slowly. you notice that a person repeatedly respects your boundaries, so you let them in. but intimacy demands something deeper. they want to know that the deepest and most vulnerable parts of themselves are safe with you. are they? are their deep and messy hearts safe with you? or they just your "objects"?
✨gemini: youre like a surfer, arent you? it doesnt matter what the current is doing, as long as it gives you that wave! that moment of excitement and freedom! i mean, obviously you study the water, and know which waves will give you the most thrill, and you can probably anticipate when a good wave is coming-- or maybe you dont surf, but, you treat information this way. you know the people who have the best stories. you can sniff them out, you're drawn to them, and you know how to stay engaged with them-- until you don't want that anymore! until then, you download everything you can learn, to redistribute to others later. youre a fabulous messenger. collecting fascinating knowledge, person by person, media by media, and re-telling them in glib and colorful ways, is what maintains your excitement and thrill. your heart adores networking, and you love being at the center of the web you weave-- but then you meet those self-righteous types. those "certain people" who have actually been on journeys. they don't swim in the same surf, waiting for waves. they dont collect stories and glimpses of experiences. they arent messengers. they venture into the unknown themselves, for their own experience or vocation or belief system. these people know themselves. theyre the blunt types who scare people away sometimes. "but those people might've had good stories!" you cry. you hate their candor and their self-righteousness, but you cant help that you love their stories the most. theyre so knowledgable, like a teacher or guru. they may even make you jealous, because they arent just telling stories-- theyre telling experiences. they make you want to go on a journey and have an experience too! you want their self-knowledge and expanded worldview-- but, that would require that you choose a direction. it would mean starting your own story, and commiting to it step by step, rather than waiting in the surf for a thrill. which direction lies your story? can you devote yourself to it?
✨cancer: youve seen the world outside and its scary. everyone is so changeable, and they all want something from you. they all have angles-- but you know who didnt have an angle? mother. she didnt need anything from you, she just adored you and held you and fed you yummy meals and listened to you sympathetically. she would never exploit you. she only wanted the best for you. or, maybe your family wasnt like that, so you built your private world around that loss. you save the photographs of being unloved, and insulate your heart with familiar, emotional security. your pets and plants love you unconditionally, and so do your friends. actually, you make sure that every person in your life is "safe", which is why you tested them and only slowly let them in. you approached sideways, indirectly, but eventually the faithful made it into your den, where you adore each other and feed each other and protect each other's secrets. you take their photographs and hang them in your private world, and you pray to the moon that you dont hurt you or leave you one day, like the others. when the others left, it was too painful to put into words (even though you tried) and you continue to build your private world around that loss. so the scariest people are the insensitive people. those "certain people" who arent ruled by their feelings and they operate exclusively in the public world. whats so good about the public world? sure, you play in the system to give yourself security, but why bother being ambitious when the private world is so much safer? these people are disciplined and want to master the outside world, and even though you feel unnerved by them, theyre sensible providers of security, and security has always appealed to you. theyre brave and stoic on the outside, because they wear the mask of courage to provide for their families-- like an archetypal father. sure, theyve suffered, but their suffering and failures are what galvanizes their self-respect, and motivates them to try again. their resilience appeals to you, draws you like a magnet, but you resent their emotional strength because it makes them seem insensitive. but in order to accomplish our goals in the world, we have to be disciplined, put our feelings to the side, and be willing to fail. are you brave enough to climb the mountain? can you approach the world directly? the public world can be a scary place, but when you have courage and a wish in your heart, it makes for better photographs.
✨leo: your heart is a stage, and your beloved audience loves your warmth and glamor. youre so talented, so dignified, and you have that accessible "older sibling" aura that wins people's hearts. basically youre blessed, and your heart soars whenever you receive applause. like a good actor, people dont always know the work youve put into your identity-- unless, of course, its part of the act-- but youre not pretending! its just that applause affirms your existence, so naturally everything revolves around that. you love your audience and you cant imagine life without being seen and praised. humiliation could destroy you, but you will always rise like the graceful pheonix before a new audience, to dazzle and impress and entertain again. you have infinite creative potential inside of you, a kaledioscope of color and expression is at your fingertips. thats why you cannot stand those "certain people" who come around to expose your ego. these people are usually intellectuals who are penetrating and insightful, and they always try to bring you down a peg. when you tell a problematic joke on stage, theyre always advocating for the audience and viewing your act in an idealistic lense. "its just art!" you cry. "and its my art! so if you dont like it, you can leave!" but when the audience leaves, it always unearths your insecurities. how are these people so in-touch with your audience? how do they forecast the audience's needs so accurately with their insights? youre the one on stage, but these intellectuals know the rhythms of the future, and theyre forcing you to step up and change. you recognize their genius and want it for yourself, because your heart is a stage, and theater is about the interplay between the actor and the audience. can you use your heart to feel into the hearts of the collective? can you change with the age? is that something you even want?
✨virgo: your attention to detail is truly a gift, and it enriches everyone around you-- even if they dont notice. you can put your ego to the side and really analyze what truly needs to be done, and then you do it, without fuss. once you find the flaw with your eye for detail, you uproot it. even when its thankless work, you are a major service to those around you because you keep things efficient and organized, just like your own bodies and minds. when things are unclean, you keep them clean, just like your unconscious. in fact, you regularly go into the basement of your mind to take an inventory of your compulsions, obsessions, and needs. you may appear neurotic to others, and you may feel that way too! your eye for detail can sometimes paralyze you with all the ways you need to improve yourself. even when it comes to others, it may be hard not to see flaws and want to perfect them. it may be hard to relate to people outside of this ritual because youre so invested in the routine of that role. when your eye for detail sees all the flaws, how can you not aspire to a future of perfection? its hard work, but everyone should be working to be better, right? thats why "certain people" who are oblivious to their own flaws bother you. everyone has a responsibility to improve, but then you meet those people who laze about and dont improve themselves. and, you notice that they dont try to improve other people either! they accept people as they are, and you resent how others gravitate to them. you assume that theyre coddling them-- but with your eye for detail, you notice something. you notice that people around them slowly heal and improve by their influence, by some strange alchemy! and you cant trace back how it was done! because they accepted them as they were-- they changed, for the better. you also notice that it works personally for those people too. somehow, by not worrying and analyzing, by withdrawing from their obsessions and escaping into art or distraction, occasionally things work out for them! it doesnt happen enough to quantify, but the numerous occasions where inaction breeds positive results astounds you! how do they do that? how do they give their problems over to some higher force by escaping? you can barely escape your own mind without feeling guilty! and you notice that their ability to escape balances their ability to ground in the moment, especially with others. it seems so disorderly and contradictory-- but it works. how can inaction and acceptance change your life too? how would your loved ones improve if you accepted them as they are? can you tolerate uncertainty enough, to reap the rewards of acceptance?
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Some dumb Team Spicer OT3 headcanons no one wants to hear but I’m gonna say them anyways:
Jack has a thing with personal space and doesn’t like being touched by pretty much anyone and hates physical contact as a whole, except for maybe hugs from Mom. However, he’s severely touch-starved and the more he falls for Jermaine and Timber, the more he not only allows for physical contact from both of them, but he initiates it too. Sitting closer to them, leaning on their shoulder, that sort of thing.
Eventually when they do become a thing he then becomes this barnacle that is always hugging or leaning or lounging on one of them at all times. They’re his safe space and he shows it by being close to them.
I’m still debating on whether Timber’s short hair becomes a permanent look, but I like to think that if it becomes long again, Jack has a habit of playing with it and petting it because it’s so soft and fluffy. And because it’s Jack, Timber let’s him.
Since one is a martial artist and the other is a wilderness nut,Jermaine and Timber are both pretty physically strong. And Jack 👏 is 👏 here 👏 for 👏 it 👏 He’s into physical strength.
Before Xiaolin training Jack is pretty wimpy and nowhere near as physically fit as he should be because he spends most of his time building robots in a lab. Since he’s so slow and kind of a load in an emergency, Timber often just picks him up and carries him. He pretends to hate it and won’t stop complaining when she does it, but he actually kind of likes being carried around like that. He’s always lowkey impressed by it.
He has tried or will try carrying her just to get back at her and it never ends well.
Jermaine is the strongest of Team Spicer and can carry both of his partners. However since he’s also the shortest member he rarely does it because it’s way too easy to lose balance.
Timber never really played any sport except hockey because...well, because Canada (and also no friends), but I like to think that Jermaine teaches her how to play basketball and she just loves it. She likes playing it and when he finally takes her to a game she likes watching it too. Jermaine loves the way it brings out her competitive spirit and her sense of wonder as a whole.
Jermaine’s favorite things about Timber are her enthusiasm, her curiosity, her creativity, her ability to stand on her own two feet, her outspokenness, her wild nature (pun intended), her wilderness skills, her thirst for adventure and knowledge and her smile.
His favorite things about Jack are his innovative nature, his feistiness, his intelligence, his competitiveness, the cute and silly faces he makes when he’s sketching out new blueprints for one of his inventions, his eyes, his awkward and adorkable moments, his defiant nature and the way he just doesn’t quit no matter what life throws at him.
Jermaine also likes Timber’s laugh and Jack’s smile. Neither of them are prone to laughing or smiling and as they grow closer Jermaine makes a point to try to get each one to do both. He genuinely wants to see these two disasters realize how beautiful and amazing and incredible they really are.
Slight spoilers but Jermaine ends up suffering from nightmares after the events of MW! due to reasons I won’t go into. He’s alright but healing is a slow process and it takes time to get over trauma, and the nightmares are intense and leave him in a cold sweat and make it hard for him to get some rest. The only way he feels safe enough to go back to sleep is if he’s with Jack and Timber. So for a long time after the fic, the three have nightly sleepovers so Jermaine can actually get some sleep. He wakes up, freaks out, talks it out with them, sometimes Timber makes him some tea with her super potent lavender and chamomile flowers and after they just all fall back asleep.
Jack is the first to catch Feelings. Next is Timber. Jermaine, for all his virtues, is incredibly thick and can’t seem to understand that both of the people in his party are crushing on him pretty hard. Sadly it’s because he doesn’t really think he’s good enough for anyone to like him.
In this universe, Jack and Jermaine are both bi, but only Jack is aware of his own orientation. Jermaine is not. At least, not for long.
Jack’s color motif is mostly black, Timber’s color motif is mostly blue and Jermaine’s is mostly red with yellow accents. Why?
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They’re the colors of the poly flag :)
Spoiler but once they start dating, everyone’s in a tizzy about it. But hands down the person who is most shocked and/or disturbed by this turn of events is...Chase Young. Despite the fact that he used the boy as a pawn in a scheme, he did get somewhat attached to Jermaine. He was after all a good student and Chase is honorable enough to respect legit talent and effort. The moment he hears that his talented former Apprentice is dating both the student of his oldest rival AND Jack freaking Spicer, he goes through all five stages of grief before running straight to the Xiaolin Temple, finding Jermaine and telling him “I’m sorry for your loss”.
As you can imagine, Jermaine isn’t pleased.
You better believe I have an entire YouTube playlist dedicated to this ship, but this one in particular, and this particular mix made for this AMV, is definitely one of my favorite songs for their ship. https://youtu.be/SYcODDcNSIk
youtube
Timber’s family is dysfunctional and abusive, and Jack’s family is distant and neglectful, if well intentioned. So I like to think they both find a healthy family dynamic in Jermaine’s mom, grandmother and older sister.
They try to keep their relationship a secret from anyone outside the Temple, but eventually their families find out. Jermaine’s family is very supportive, but you better believe Ivory grilled Jack and Timber pretty hard once she realized these two idiots were in a relationship with her baby brother. But eventually they do have a supportive dynamic with each other (with Timber slightly more successful than Jack on the grounds that Jack is a show off and Ivory doesn’t like show offs).
Jack’s Dad is shocked and doesn’t really know how to handle it but since Jack is genuinely happy for once in his life he’s got no beef and just quietly lets them be - with one exception. Jack’s Dad is relatively famous and in the news all the time, so he’s used to being paparazzi fodder and having tabloids spin stuff on him. But the moment they try to belittle Jack for his relationship with his partners, Jason puts an end to it. IMMEDIATELY. Jason may not understand his son, but he will always love him.
Jack’s mom is devastated, but not because he’s poly - it’s because as a hardcore supporter of Jack getting married and giving her lots of grandkids to spoil (she’s that kind of mom), she’s been budgeting his future wedding for years, LITERAL YEARS, so that the moment he finds The One, they can get hitched with no fuss. And now suddenly she has to budget for a whole other person. One and a half decades of planning RUINED.
Timber’s mom and step-dad.....even I’m not sure. But Kallik and Hanta still care about their sister, even if they’re terrible at showing it. And once they get wind of what’s happening, Timber’s brothers get overprotective and overstep their boundaries in an effort to drive off these “playboys” from toying with their sister’s heart. That is, until Timber puts them in their place.
I like to think that Kallik and Hanta eventually do find a way get along with Jack and Jermaine, if only for the fact they can watch over Timber when they can’t....but it’s a slow process. After all, they’re still working on repairing their relationship with their sister.
Poly families exist in real life (and happily so depending on the family) so maybe when the members of Team Spicer are all grownups and are at a good age to start a family, they get married and have kids? I dunno. It’s a hypothetical situation for now since the whole “Xiaolin Dragon” thing is more or less a lifelong deal and that would get in the way of raising kids. But I like to think that if they do have kids, they have a boy named Jake who raises a lot of Hell (like his birth Dad), and a girl named Jazmine who likes to kick evil’s butt (like her birth Dad).
Slightly spoilery but our Team each end up with an army of their own - Jack has his robots, Timber has her plants and Jermaine has loyal jungle cat soldiers. So if they did have kids, those would hands down be the most well protected kids on the face of the earth. Also maybe the most...interesting, since being raised with killer robots, killer plants and dangerous animals might make for some unnaturally fearless kids.
Jermaine is the glue that holds them all together. Jack and Timber come to love each other dearly but Jermaine is so influential to the both of them that neither one can imagine life without him.
Same with Jermaine and both of them. Timber and Jack are both crazy, they’re both stubborn, they’re both unpredictable, they cause trouble and break rules and he never knows what they’re gonna do next - and he loves that about them.
You know that person in the relationship that steals the other person’s hoodies to wear them? That’s Jack. And he doesn’t even say sorry.
Jack likes to flirt and tease Jermaine and Timber but when either of them reciprocate he gets all flustered and tsundere.
Jack and Timber both have jealousy issues but neither of them compare to Jermaine’s. He gets majorly angry when someone flirts with or gets too close to either of them - he just hides it well and is smart enough to know that Jack/Timber weren’t asking for it.
Jermaine is very protective and sometimes even overprotective. It’s an issue he’s gonna need to let go of.
Jermaine is pretty short for a boy and Timber is very tall for a girl. Jermaine doesn’t have issues about it, Timber does...but if anyone insults either of them, Jack throws hands. Like seriously he will fight you if you make a nasty comment about their height.
You see these three often chilling with each other because they are each other’s safe space.
Because they fell in love with each other while traveling the world, their idea of a date together is grabbing the Tiger Claws, warping to a random location and exploring it together. It’s a tradition they keep up even as they get older.
They genuinely love and care for each other very, very much.
That’s all for now but I have more headcanons for these guys. Trust me.
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the-fixation-zone · 4 years
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hello hello! @queenspinoodle​ and i started working on a...well, on what started as a crack piece. it may or may not still be crack. if u like circuses, crime fighting, and zuko and sokka being named zucchini and sock THIS IS FOR YOU! first chapter below, with art from my cowriter! comments appreciated :)
enjoi~
Chapter 1
Zucchini is still thinking about his performance last night. He’d wanted to try something new, but every time he’d attempted to nail the trick in rehearsal, it’d just...fallen flat. So, he hadn’t attempted it last night, which left a bitter taste in his mouth. He’s still swirling it around, trying to spit it out, but no luck. It’s his routine, but he still feels like he failed. His thoughts are interrupted, however, when his foot collides with something hard and he trips. Spectacularly. He looks up, embarrassed and angry in equal measures, to see Sock sitting nearby. He gets angrier when he sees Sock is clearly trying to hold back laughter.
 “Sock! Is this your--” Zucchini looks down, “--sandbag that just tripped me?!”
Sock gives him an innocent look. “I think the correct way to say it is, 'is that my sandbag that you just tripped over'? Because yes, it is, and yes, you did. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone’s arms flail like that, Zucchini.” 
Zucchini narrows his eyes. “I only tripped over it because someone is incredibly disorganized. Sandbags don’t belong in the middle of the floor!”
Sock narrows his eyes, no longer laughing. “Well, maybe you should look where you’re going! If you were more aware of your surroundings, Mr. Jerk, then maybe you would’ve seen it. It’s a big bag, Zucchini.”
“Yeah, well! Well, you’re--you--ugh, you’re an idiot! Move the stupid bag, Sock!” Zucchini turns away quickly, trying not to dwell on how ridiculous he just sounded. He’s made two strides to the tent’s opening when something collides with the back of his head. He whips back around to see Sock with a smirk on his face.
“Can I help you?” Sock says innocently.
Zucchini looks at him, dumbfounded, then looks at the ground to see a balled up piece of paper. He picks it up. “Seriously? What are you, eight?” 
Sock shrugs. “I know you are but what am I.”
Zucchini’s eyes get wide, his anger inadvertently burning the paper in his hands. “Seriously? You’re such a child!”
“Oh, yeah? Well at least I don’t throw my pillow around my tent when I’m mad, and then apologize to it!” Sock’s look of triumph at that statement makes Zucchini grit his teeth.
“I don’t--! How do you know about that?? It was one time, maybe twice at most!”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever."
“UGH, you’re impossible to work with! I don’t know why Piandao keeps you around. My little cousin could do better tricks than you.”
"At least I actually have a talent!"
“Oh yeah?” Zucchini takes a menacing step forward. “You wanna try walking the tightrope, then? You think you could handle it?”
"Only if you do flips off the trapeze!"
“Done! I could do that in my sleep!”
“Fine! I bet the moment you get on, you'll fall off immediately. You’ll go running to Piandao like a baby!”
“Don’t you dare call me a baby!”
Sock and Zucchini’s argument brings them right into each other’s faces, snarling like animals. Both of them have their fists balled tight, ready to throw, when the sound of the tent flap opening gets their attention.
“Boys! Boys, what is going on here?” Their boss, Master Piandao, enters the tent, a frown marring his face.  “Honestly, you two can’t be civil for five minutes? The show’s about to start, and I will not have either of you knocked out of commission over a petty fight!”
On cue, the announcer’s voice cuts through the tent, his voice amplified by his megaphone. “COME ONE, COME ALL! THE SHOW WILL BE STARTING IN TEN MINUTES! GET YOUR POPCORN AND DRINKS AND JOIN US IN THE MAIN TENT FOR A WONDROUS EVENING!”
Sock and Zucchini pull back from one another, still glaring. Sock turns away first, finishing up his preparations for his act, grumbling. Zucchini leaves the tent for his own, having not started his own prep work. When he gets there, he realizes he’s still very pissed off, thank you very much, and knows he can’t work like this. The last time he tried to work angry, well…. It’s better not to think about it. So, to calm down, he tries to meditate. He sits on a cushion in the middle of the floor, crosses his legs, and breathes. In, out. In, out. Not, thinking. About, Sock. And, his. Stupid, FACE.
It wasn’t going very well. 
In a tent nearby, Sock is pulling on his costume, trying to push Zucchini’s attitude from his mind. Honestly, if the guy just looked down from his pedestal every now and then he wouldn’t trip over stuff. A no brainer. But, of course, Sock doesn’t expect Zucchini to understand that. He was so full of himself, just because he could walk on some string. So what? Who cared about that, when Sock worked his butt off doing flips! Ugh. 
He walks out still pretty mad, but when he runs into his co-stars his mood picks up. Zucchini may be a dick, but Katt and Baaang weren’t. They were awesome, and together they’d put on a great show. He gives his sister and her boyfriend a hug, trying to keep the anger off his face. He thinks about it for a moment but ultimately decides not to tell them about the stupid fight he had with Zucchini. It’s just not worth it, in the end. His sister would just worry, and Baaang would tell him he should try to work it out. Neither of these are favorable outcomes. Instead, he grabs their hands and they go out on stage to raucous applause. As soon as the whoops and cheers hit his ears, Sock is grinning. Yes, he thinks. This is what it’s all about. As they go through their routine, Sock loses himself in the moves. He loses himself in the trust he has in his team, in the ooohs and aaaahs of the crowd. Nothing else matters.
Zucchini, upon giving up meditation as an impossibility, paces in his tent. Sock’s performance is about to start and, though he mocked his work before, he realizes he’s never...actually seen Sock and his team perform. He’s passed through the practice tent while they were rehearsing, sure, but he never stopped to look, always too busy with something else. He starts feeling bad about insulting Sock without evidence. Maybe, I could check it out...just for a moment.
 He goes backstage, opening the flap leading to the main room a bit. Sock, Katt, and Baaang are just coming out to the delight of the crowd. Zucchini scoffs, not knowing what the fuss is all about. The moment they get on the trapeze, he gets it. Boy, does he get it. The three of them work as if they were one, dropping through the air and catching each other with such trust it brings a tear to Zucchini’s eye. And the way they move. It’s like they’re not made of flesh and bone, but cloud. Pure vapor, floating from one rung to the next. Zucchini can’t believe his eyes. He’s especially surprised by Sock.
He’d thought Sock was completely disorganized and never thought he’d be capable of performing something so beautiful. Zucchini’s anger completely leaves him watching the performance, captivated beyond his control. When they finish and the crowd claps them off the stage, Zucchini finds himself clapping too. And then running, because there’s no way he could let Sock find him watching. He’d rather die, he thinks.
Sock leaves the stage feeling like he could take on the world. Katt and Baaang are laughing on either side of him, recapping their favorite parts of their performance to keep the energy going. Sock joins in, making jokes and ruffling his sister’s hair. Zucchini is the furthest thing from his mind. Or, he would be, if his act weren’t up next. Somehow he had forgotten in the rush of his own performance, but the announcer makes sure to remind him in a booming voice. Baaang and Katt are going back to their tents to change into their daywear, but Sock hangs back. Sure, he’d told the guy that he didn’t need talent to do his act, but it’s not as if he’d ever actually seen it. He knew what it was, though. He stood on a rope and juggled some things, right? Might as well pop back over and check it out, so he’d have more material to mock him with next time.
Zucchini stands at the performer entrance of the big tent, his usual pre-show nerves surprisingly absent. He feels more calm than he has all day, if he’s being honest. When the announcer shouts his cue, he steps inside, standing tall and walking with confidence to the ladder leading up to the tightrope. Pepper is already up there, the bag of props by his feet. He gives Zucchini a big grin and a thumbs up, which Zucchini returns. The clown looks taken aback, but pleased. Zucchini then moves to the rope, his music being played by a band on the ground. A deep breath, two and then he steps out. 
He hears someone in the crowd scream. His grin grows; there’s always one. He steps out further, footfalls soft and measured, until he’s in the middle of the rope. Arm out to his sides, he bends his knees. Deep breath and….up! He jumps into the air, causing more screams from below. Energized, he does another jump, this time turning in the air so he’s facing his assistant. Pepper claps his hands before reaching into the bag of props, tossing a jar of salt to Zucchini. Zucchini outstretches his hand to grab it and, right before it lands in his palm, he calls his fire. 
Sock will admit it. He was one of the people who screamed when Zucchini jumped. He has half a mind to run over to their boss and frantically ask if that’s safe, or even legal! Even thinking about jumping on a thin rope that far up makes Sock queasy, let alone turning around while doing it. And now the clown is throwing things at him? Really?? Sock is unwittingly watching from the same place Zucchini observed him, gripping the cloth tight. What else could Zucchini possibly be up to? He’s not sure why, but he didn’t see the fire coming.
Zucchini feels the runes on the back of his hand crackling. As he calls the fire, it almost feels like it’s happy to come to him, basking in the joy of performing as he does. The jar, coated in flammable oil, lights immediately, bright and hot. Pepper tosses him another object, this time an umbrella, which Zucchini catches with his other hand. The third object Pepper throws is a bowling pin; Zucchini lifts one foot and catches it on the tip of his toe. Now the fun can begin. 
Zucchini’s always loved juggling, though it was frowned upon in the house he grew up in. Too many broken dishes, too many dropped heirlooms. He tried his best but he wasn’t very good as a kid. Not anymore. Now, he flips his flaming objects in the air with ease. His control over the fire is superb; the audience doesn’t know this but not a single object is actually burned. That reveal has to be his favorite. Items high in the air, Pepper throws more at him and Zucchini flips them faster. Feeling confident, he tosses a few behind his back as well. The crowd loses their mind and Zucchini loses himself in the sound.
Sock is losing his mind. How is any of this possible? He’s sure those things are on fire, but it doesn’t make sense! How is that umbrella not ash? How is the glass on fire? How has Zucchini not dropped a single object?! He must have six by now! Oh, wait, seven now because that sadistic clown just tossed him another. Sock thinks, maybe, he should just sit back and watch rather than overthinking the specifics. He leans back against one of the tent poles and contents himself with enjoying the show. 
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When Zucchini finishes by stacking all of the objects in one hand with none of them even scorched, Sock thinks he, maybe, possibly owes the guy an apology. Eventually. He sneaks away, not wanting to be caught watching, and starts heading back to his tent. On the way there, he thinks about whether this changes anything. Like, sure, maybe Zucchini isn’t all hot air (hah!), but he’s still not a nice person. Not even remotely.
Sock is still pondering this when he hears voices around the corner. Usually Sock isn’t the nosy type, regardless of what his sister has to say about it, but something in their tone sounds...off. He doesn’t recognize the voices, either. Sure, they could be patrons taking a smoke or something, but Sock’s gut is telling him it’s something else. He crouches down and peeks around the corner of the tent serving as his hiding spot.
“Should be any moment now, Groff. Master P. will be alone as soon as the show’s over, and that’s when we get him. You got it?”
“Yeah, Lunk, I got it the first million times you told me. Are you sure we should be doing this, though? Like, I get why but...Master P.’s always seemed pretty nice the way I see it.”
A thump. “Ow! Lunk! What was that for, huh?”
“For thinking too hard! We get orders, we carry them out, we get paid. That’s. It. Don’t go getting sentimental on me now, Groff.” 
Sock is very glad he hid, now. They couldn’t possibly be talking about what he thinks they are, right? Only one way to find out…
Zucchini, riding the high of his performance, has a spring in his step as he heads back to his tent. Some of the things he’d tried had gone horribly in rehearsal, but somehow he’d landed them! And the crowd loved it! He doesn’t know what did it but something clicked for him up there. He’d be holding onto these feelings for a while. Or, so he thought, before he saw Sock crouched beside a tent looking incredibly shady. Not wanting to startle him, Zucchini carefully walks up behind him and gives his shoulder a tap. Unfortunately, this has the exact opposite effect, causing Sock to jump a mile. Sock turns, looking terrified. Upon seeing Zucchini his expression morphs to annoyed.
“Sorry. What are you--?” The rest of Zucchini’s sentence is muffled by Sock’s hand over his mouth.
“Shh.”
“Oh. Sorry,” Zucchini says in a whisper, once his mouth is free. “What are you doing?”
Sock puts a finger over his lips, then indicates with his head around the corner. Zucchini peeks, seeing two burly men in suits. He frowns until he starts to catch what they’re saying. It sounds like a plot to murder Master Piandao, but...it couldn’t be. Could it?
The two men start walking in their direction. Zucchini’s eyes go wide and he looks to Sock, but Sock has already stood up and is opening the flap to the tent they’re hiding behind. He grabs Zucchini’s arm and drags him in behind him. Once the footsteps fade away, Zucchini turns to Sock.
“Oh my god. Sock...What the hell did we just hear?” he whispers, dragging a hand through his hair.
“Pretty sure it was a murder plot." Sock replies.
Oh. So, it was actually exactly what he thought. Great. “Right. Right. Murder. Of our boss.” Zucchini can feel himself unraveling. “They can’t  just kill Piandao! He’s like a father to me, they can’t--we can’t let them--” Zucchini starts pacing the tent, at a loss.
Sock, in contrast, is standing absolutely still, hand on his chin as he stares at the wall of the tent. "I have a plan."
Zucchini perks up, then looks wary. “What kind of plan?”
“They’re planning to use a tent nail as their weapon, right? Those are in the storage tent. That tent also has netting and rope, which we can use to trap them.” Sock’s eyes light up as he describes his plan, his hands moving as he talks. “We’ll use the trapeze mechanics to set the trap, and once they’re in range, BAM!” Sock slams his fist into his palm. “We got em.”
Zucchini isn’t entirely clear on how the trapeze artists do their thing, but he can’t help but trust Sock. The way he explains it is so passionate. So, Zucchini nods. “Okay. That...that could work. Let’s do this.”
Sock is surprised Zucchini agreed to the plan so readily but is not about to complain about it. They’ve got murderers to catch. Sock does a cautious check outside the tent before sneaking out, looking over his shoulder to make sure Zucchini is following. Zucchini is right behind him, looking around to make sure the coast is clear. When they get to the storage tent they both do one more look around before ducking inside.
"Grab that net and bring it here." Sock picks up a rope attached to a sandbag, dragging it towards himself. Zucchini grabs the net and tosses it to Sock, then awaits further instructions while keeping an ear out for company. Sock ties the netting to multiple ropes, then hooks up the ropes and adds a few extra sandbags until the net is pulled up. He crouches beside one of the ropes with a knife, ready to cut it.
Zucchini can’t pretend that he followed any of that, so instead he says, “So, now we wait?”
Sock nods. "Cut that rope when they come in,” he says, indicating a rope on the other side of the room.
“Can do.” Zucchini waits, finding a hiding spot and listening for the sound of the would-be murderers voices or footsteps. Eventually, he sees a shadow cross the tent. He hears those voices again, and then the men from before enter. Zucchini makes eye contact with Sock and then, when the perps are in the right position, cuts his rope while Sock does the same to his own. The criminals scream as the net comes down on them. Zucchini pumps his fist in the air, holding back an exhilarated whoop. 
Sock, realizing they could get in trouble for trapping people without hard evidence, grabs Zucchini and flees. Zucchini goes with him, still too excited to really question it. Sock slows down and tries to look casual once they're a bit away from the tent, but makes sure to stop somewhere with the storage tent still in sight. 
Once they’ve stopped Zucchini turns to Sock, a confused look on his face. “Why did we run away? We did something good!”
"We're circus workers who just trapped two people, and nobody else knows what they were doing there. It doesn't reflect very well on us."
Zucchini thinks about it, deflating a bit. “Well...I guess that’s true. What now? They might get out, and no one will know what they were going to do. Should we, I dunno, lead someone with some authority towards the tent?"
"I don't think we'll have to worry about that.” A crowd is starting to form around the tent, likely because of the screams. They watch Piandao make his way through the crowd, opening the tent flap wide. "Groff and Lunk! What are you two doing here?" Sock and Zucchini watch as Master Piandao drags the two men out of the tent, still wrapped up in netting. “I told you! You two don’t work for me anymore. I thought I made it perfectly clear I didn’t want to see your faces again.”
The two men talk over each other, the exact words hard to make out over the distance, but Sock thinks he makes out “not over yet!” and Zucchini thinks he hears “our real boss!” and both register the vehemence in the men's tones. Sock and Zucchini look at each other, eyes wide. Probably a good thing those two were tied up. Pretty soon, Pepper comes out to disperse the crowd and the conversation between Groff, Lunk, and Master Piandao grows hushed.
“I see. That certainly does look taken care of.” Zucchini stares at the three men for another moment, before it seems to hit him. That was something big, they stopped a murder. He starts laughing. Giddy, slightly manic laughs. “We really just did that, didn’t we?”
Sock gives Zucchini a strange look when he starts laughing. He isn’t sure what’s funny at first, then it dawns on him too. "Oh my God, we did just do that…"
“Yep! Yeah, wow, we’re...huh. Guess that makes us heroes, doesn’t it?” Zucchini seems floored by this realization. “I don’t think I’ve ever been a hero before.”
Sock watches guards drag the two people away from the tent. They just did that… He has always wanted to be a hero, specifically a warrior. Is this really his chance? They could take responsibility now that it was clear those two were murderers. He could finally have his dream…but, something holds him back. He can’t do it. It wouldn't do him any good, anyway. Better to move on.
“Hey, Sock?” Zucchini is also watching the people be taken away. He’s thinking about how his life so far has been one failure after another, how he’s always run away when the going has gotten tough, but somehow, with the weird trapeze man beside him, he managed to save someone. Really save someone. “Do you think we could do this again?”
"Huh? Which part? Saving people? Building traps? Not killing each other?"
Zucchini breathes out a laugh. “How about all three?” He turns to Sock, looking him in the eye. “I think we could really make a difference.”
Sock looks at Zucchini, really looks at him. Is he really asking to fight crime together? Sock had always thought Zucchini was stuck up and moody. He'd never really liked his aggressiveness before. But maybe there’s more to him. Maybe they can get along and use their talents to help people. He smiles. "I'd like that."
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marbledaesthetics · 4 years
Text
Only on Principal | afi | part ii
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masterlist part i
pairing: ashton irwin x ofc
warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn, mutual pining, fake (semi-coerced?) relationships, injuries, implications of anxiety
word count: 4.4k
a/n: sorry this took so long, I just recently restarted classes and I never have the time to write. I wish I could say the next one will be sooner, but I haven’t even started it (oops). I do have an idea of where this will go moving forward, so hopefully, once I can get around to writing, it will go quickly. 
~~~
It’s nearing 10 o’clock when Ashton pulls up to the building Hylla described, a brick building with tall windows, two stories high. The sign above the front door reads The Ink Pot, but he passes it by in favor of following the small alley to his left, as per her directions, where he found a small side door.
He hesitates before knocking, knowing he’s a few minutes early. He’d spent the past week kicking himself over the way he had treated her, and he was anxious to see if she would still be upset by it.
The door swings open, snapping him from his thoughts, to reveal Hylla, holding a mascara wand and small, squirming dog. “Hi, you can come on up, I’m not quite ready, yet.” She motions for him to follow him up the stairs just inside the door. “You can chill wherever while I finish up.”
Hylla disappears after setting down the small pup, who immediately scuttles over to Ashton, at the top of the stairs. He crouches down and scratches its ears lightly, giggling when it attempts to climb into his lap. “Well, hello there.” He moves to sit on the end of her couch, leaning back down to continue petting it.
Hylla comes back a minute later, shaking her head in amusement at her dog, who is now lying on Ashton’s foot while he scratches her stomach. “Are you being needy, Karma? Worst guard dog I’ve ever seen,” she teases, laughing as the dog gets up and barrels into her shins.
“What breed is she?” Ashton asks, brushing a bit of dog fur from the bottom of his jeans.
“A mini Australian shepherd. She’s super smart, but she’s also a total brat.”
Ashon giggles, and she immediately yearns to hear the sound again. She mentally scolds herself, reminding herself that she needed to keep their relationship amicable for the next eight months.
“Are you ready, then?” Ashton asks, breaking the slightly awkward silence. He stands and slides his hands into his pockets.
“Yeah, I just need to put this little one somewhere she won’t cause trouble.” She herds Karma into a corner of the kitchen full of dog things, closing a baby gate to keep her there. Upon watching this, Ashton notices that most things he could see are baby proofed.
Gesturing to the nearest baby lock, he asks, “Do you have a kid?” then quickly backtracks. “Wow, that was really blunt, sorry.”
Hylla just laughs, brushing it off as she pulls on her shoes. “No, like I said, Karma is super smart, but she loves causing trouble. She knows how to flip light switches, open cabinets, doors, the fridge, so: baby locks.”
Ashton laughs, a full sound from deep in his chest. “That’s amazing. In theory, that would be great, but I could see how she could make a mess, though.”
Hylla makes a small noise of affirmation, and they head out. They make small talk on their way, allowing the radio to fill stretches of comfortable silence.
Ashton parks a few blocks from the coffee shop, giving them a chance to be spotted before they enter. He gives Hylla a small, reassuring smile before hopping out of the car, opening her door. He helps her out of the car, lacing their fingers together as they make their way to the shop.
A handful of fans recognize Ashton, but none make a fuss about Hylla’s presence, being kind without prying.
They choose to sit at a bar along the front windows, keeping an eye out for the paps that were bound to arrive. They continue to keep their conversation light, occasionally speaking to fans that approach.
After some time, they notice the herd of paps outside had grown to a size plenty more than sufficient for their purposes. They meet each other’s eyes before rising from their seats in unison. 
Ashton takes Hyllas free hand in his, squeezing lightly. “You ready?”
She smiles back and nods, using her drink to gesture for them to leave.
As soon as the door opens, they’re overwhelmed by flashes. Ashton makes a point of ignoring the cameras, leading Hylla toward the pier, where it would be more difficult for the paps to follow.
Hylla tries to keep her head down, knowing there are already enough pictures of her face for Twitter to find her. The noise was overwhelming, with questions being shouted over each other, and Hylla is forced to press closer to Ashton to keep her balance as they fight their way through the crowded sidewalk.
One man pouches forward, gripping her arm tightly and asking a question she doesn’t quite hear. She freezes, eyes going wide as the man’s grip grows tighter. Immediately, Ashton puts himself between the two, dropping her hand in favor of pulling the man’s off of her and pushing him back. As soon as she’s freed, she stumbles back, heart still racing, and watches Ashton shoo away everyone who hasn’t already taken their cue to leave.
Once they are gone, he turns back to her, concern pinching his features. “Are you alright?” he asks softly, lightly brushing his fingertips over the bright red marks left on her elbow. 
“I’m okay,” she says quickly, “just a little shaken up— I wasn’t expecting that.” Her reply comes almost too fast for Ashton to believe her, but he just nods, drawing her closer to him, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before continuing toward the pier. 
Their silence is comfortable as they walk, filling the long stretches between bits of small talk.
Occasionally, a fan will ask Ashton for a picture, and Hylla happily takes the photos, opting to stay behind the camera, despite several invitations to join them.
They eventually find themselves at a picnic table, their gazes drifting between each other and the water.
“I’m actually kind of surprised we didn’t get more questions today,” she mentions, absentmindedly running her nails through the groves in the worn wood.
Ashton shrugs, drumming his own fingers on his thigh. “They usually aren’t the type to pry, but those pictures are probably trending by now.”
“I suppose it’s nice how they don’t track you everywhere. I imagine that would get old.”
“It can when it happens a lot, like when we’re on tour. Usually, it screws up plans more than anything.” He pauses for a second, taking in the sounds of the boardwalk before looking back to her. “So, I still don’t know much about you. Where are you from?”
“I grew up in Long Beach. My mom grew up in the LA area, but my dad is actually from Puerto Rico.”
“Puerto Rico, I think you might have mentioned that last week.”
She raises her eyebrows a bit, shocked he remembered. “Yeah, I did.”
“Does that mean you speak Spanish?”
His voice is genuinely curious, but Hylla can’t help but tease, “How original, no one has ever asked me that before. But, yes, I speak Spanish.”
“Well, I’m sorry I asked,” he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I feel like you mentioned your mom, too. Are you a family-oriented person?”
“Yeah, my entire family is pretty close.”
“Mine, too. Do you have any siblings?”
“Two brothers and a sister, plus a few cousins I’m super close with.”
Ashton gave a quick glance around, making sure everyone was out of earshot before speaking. “This whole thing must be hard then, not being able to talk about this.”
“A little, but I’m honestly so busy I don’t get to see them half as often as I’d like to even have to avoid talking about it. I assume it’s gonna get even harder with this being public now.” Hylla spoke quietly, also concerned about potential eavesdroppers. “This probably isn’t the place for this conversation.”
“You’re probably right,” He said, standing up from the table. “Should we move this somewhere more private?”
He held out a hand, which she took, lacing her fingers in his as they made their way back up the pier. “What other things should you know about me?”
“Well, apparently you speak Spanish. Any other fun talents you’ve been hiding from me?”
“You already know I do art. That takes up most of my time.”
“Other than tattoos, what kind of art do you like to do?”
“Uh, a little bit of everything, I guess? I do a lot of digital things because they’re the easiest to get to clients that commission me, and I can print them into stencils. I paint, sometimes. As long as I have a pen and something to write on, I’ll doodle. How about you? Any random talents you’re holding out on?”
“Nothing spectacular. I can whistle really well, but I suppose that goes with the music thing.”
They spend the rest of the walk back to the car chatting, talking just enough to fill the silence. They had almost made it back to the car when they saw a few more paps; though, they appeared to be less pushy than the ones they encountered earlier.
Hylla’s first reaction was to ignore them, avoiding direct eye contact, but Ashton smiled at them, politely telling them he would answer any of their questions. She was honestly surprised they left graciously, allowing the pair to go about their business.
Ashton opened her door for her, allowing her to climb into the passenger seat before getting in the car himself. Neither of them spoke until Ashton pulled into traffic. “Are you doing okay? I know all of this can be overwhelming.”
Hylla shrugged, running her fingertips over the seams of the center council. “I’m fine, I wasn’t really as prepared for dealing with them as I originally thought, but it’s something I’ll just learn with time, I guess. Honestly, the fact that they just left when you asked them to really shocked me.”
“They aren’t all quite as pushy as the ones this morning,” Ashton assured her. He made quick glances at her while he drove, debating whether he could hold her hand without people around. “The shoving and mobbing is something we hardly ever have to deal with around here, and security is usually with us in places where the pushy ones like to show. Speaking of which, how’s your arm?”
Hylla hadn’t really had much time to think over the morning’s events, so she was surprised to see how dark the bruises were when she looked down. “It looks worse than it feels. It’ll probably be pretty sore tomorrow, though.”
“Once we park, I can take a look at it. I might have something at home that could take care of them.” He couldn’t help but feel guilty, partially responsible for what had happened. “We probably should have iced it earlier, stopped it from getting this bad.”
Hylla shook her head, shrugging off his concern. “It really doesn’t hurt, Ash. It’s not a big deal.”
“I know, but I hate that they hurt you. I should have expected something like this.” He speaks quietly, shifting his eyes back to the road.
“This isn’t your fault, Ash,” she said, not even thinking as she put her hand over his on the gearshift. “You know that, right? I signed up for this. This whole thing doesn’t need to make me your responsibility.”
Ashton’s fluttering heart sank at her words, feeling pushed away. “I know that we really aren’t that close, that I don’t necessarily need to, but I’m still worried about you, and I still care that you got hurt.” His face is red as he pulls into a park’n’ride, catching her gaze before quickly averting his eyes. “Is it okay if I take a look at your arm?” His words are cautious, not wanting to overstep any boundaries or make her uncomfortable.
“That’s fine, Ash.” She twists slightly in her seat to face him more and whisks the knuckles of her uninjured arm over his cheek to bring his attention back to her face. “And, thank you for caring, even if you don’t really have to.”
“Of course, Hylla. I’m not about to just ignore you as soon as we aren’t in public, even if I technically can.” He speaks softly, but with a tone of finality that affirms his words. 
Hylla hums softly in response, taking more reassurance from his words than she realized she had needed. 
He takes his time inspecting her bruises, softly grazing them with his fingers. Ashton sighs, his tone softer when he continues. “I know I wasn’t particularly pleasant when we first met, scratch that, I was a total douche, and there isn’t an excuse for that, but I really would like us to be friends, to be able to enjoy each other’s company if we’re going to be spending so much time together.”
“I completely understand why you acted the way you did that first day; I probably would have reacted the same way if our roles were reversed. You didn’t get a choice in the situation, and I was the person they were forcing onto you, so you lashed out. I’m not upset about you having feelings, Ashton, and I also want to be able to enjoy each other’s company throughout this.” She paused in a way that suggested she wasn’t done talking, but couldn’t bring herself to suggest that their relationship could go further than just friends.
Hylla was snapped from her thoughts when Ashton’s gentle hold on her arm trailed, taking her hand in his, drawing her gaze back to his. “I’m glad we both want that.” He wore a light smile on his face, gently stroking her hand with his thumb as he spoke. “Those bruises are getting kind of gnarly. Want to maybe get some food and head back to mine so I can clean them up?”
His tone is meek, bracing himself from the rejection he feared, expecting her to ask him to just bring her home. Despite her reassurance that she understood, he still was worried he had screwed over anything that could have ever possibly happened between them with his behavior.
“That sounds good.” She squeezes his hand, smiling at him. He sighs lightly with relief, taking her acceptance of his offer as a good sign. With a small, mischievous smile, she mutters, “Feels good, too.”
Ashton barks a loud, sudden laugh and throws his head back, completely caught off guard by the change in mood. He continues to giggle as he pulls back into traffic, heading toward his house. “A pun at my expense? Already?” He trails off into a fit of giggles, his smile growing further. “Oh, you are just gonna love the guys.”
Ashton falters, worried he’s jumped too far ahead of himself, despite the fact that they both knew that she would be meeting the guys sooner rather than later, but Hylla's unfazed. “It’ll probably be even harder for you to keep this from them than it will be for me to keep it from my family.”
Her comment throws him— he hadn’t even considered the fact that he couldn’t tell the guys about the nature of their relationship. “I guess we never did finish that conversation, did we?”
She shrugs off the question, hiking one knee to her chest and leaning against the door. “I don’t really know what else to say. I mean, it’s going to suck keeping this from them, but what more is there to dwell on, really?”
Ashton takes a quick glance over at her, sensing that the situation bothered her more than she was letting on, but decides not to push the matter. “Tell me about them.”
Hylla tilts her head just enough to stare, quirking her eyebrow at his request. 
“They’re clearly important to you, so, tell me about them.” She smiles, shaking her head as she thinks.
“Well, Kendall is the oldest, she’s 28. She loves to tease, and is bossy as hell, but her heart is always in the right place. Micah’s 26. He can be a little protective, but lets me get away with everything because he’s a total softy. Kian’s only twenty, but protective to the point of overbearing and likes following the rules. He loves playing tough guy, and hates acknowledging that I can handle myself. Issac and Lydia are my cousins, but we spent so much time together as kids that we’re practically siblings. Lydia is 27, and Issac’s my age— actually, he’s two days younger than me and I will never let him forget it.”
Ashton smiles as she rambles, listening attentively to her stories with the people she cares so much about.
She trails off in the middle of a story from her childhood, blushing when she realizes they’ve stopped in Ashton’s driveway. “Sorry, I got a little carried away.”
“Don’t be. They sound amazing.” They both exit the car, walking up to the house. “I wish I got to see my family more, but the guys are like my brothers, now.” 
Ashton opens the door for Hylla, stepping in behind her and dropping his keys into a bowl by the door. He kicks off his shoes, and Hylla follows suit before continuing to stand awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed.
Ashton shows her to the kitchen, telling her to make herself comfortable before disappearing upstairs to grab some things for her arm. Hylla perches herself on a stool at his counter, pulling out her phone to see the pictures of them starting to trend.
Ashton returns carrying an assortment of first aid supplies. He chuckles lightly when she shows him her screen, mildly impressed that they’ve already seemed to have identified her, along with several of her socials.
“Twitter really is better than the FBI, aren’t they?” He nods, pulling a stack of takeout menus from a drawer.
“What are you feeling for lunch?” he asks, flipping several of the menus to face her.
She glances up from her scrolling, returning her phone to her pocket. “I’m not picky, but I’m always a sucker for Thai.” She pulls a few menus from the stack, allowing Ashton to pick from those.
Once they’d placed their orders, Ashton sits facing her, inspecting her bruises again. He holds her arm gently, careful not to put more pressure than necessary on the sore area. He rubs a balm over it before wrapping it with a soft ice pack, smiling at her gently.
“You really need to stop feeling so guilty about this, Ash.” Her words stun him, and he meets her eyes again. “This is not your fault, and your guilty face is making me sad.” She jokingly pouts at him, earning herself a giggle.
“I know,” he sighs lightly and sits up straighter, twisting to face the counter, “but I can’t help but feel bad that being around me got you hurt.” He has his own small pout, fuming over the incident.
“It’s a bruise, Ashton. It’s not even that bad.” She moves the compress, poking it harshly to prove her point, but the small wince she makes nullifies it. “Okay, maybe it’s a bad bruise, but I’ll be fine. I’ve probably given myself worse bruises running into tables, so you can stop worrying so much.”
Ashton resituates the compress, holding it there to keep her from moving it again. “Was awful to you that first day, and now this happened. I can’t help but think that you're gonna hate me if this sort of thing keeps happening.”
“I’m not a dog, Ash. A few bad days aren’t gonna train me to hate you.” She chuckles a bit, smiling warmly. “I already told you that I’m not mad about you being in a mood that first day and that this isn’t your fault. You don’t need to be so hard on yourself.” She reaches out to cup his face, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone soothingly.
Her touch feels natural, and Ashton has to restrain himself from leaning into it. “I’ll try to stop worrying so much, but you need to leave your ice pack on so it actually starts healing,” he teases, placing his hand on her knee, brushing the inside of it with his thumb.
“Deal.”
They remain in a comfortable silence for a bit, enjoying each other’s touch within their own little bubble, until the doorbell rings, startling them both. They jump apart guiltily, breaking their worry free bliss, and they both flush. Ashton sighs lightly before moving to answer the door, already missing her touch.
Hylla readjusts in her seat, trying to process the moment they shared. She ached to return to it, to pursue a romance outside of their contract without regard for the consequences, but she chastised herself, unable to push her worries from her mind. No matter what happened between them in private, they would be forced to regularly see each other until their contract expired, and she wasn’t sure she could keep something like that to herself for so long.
Ashton comes back with their takeout a minute later, firmly refusing to allow Hylla to pay him back for her meal. Once they are both settled with their food, he rekindles their conversation for a third time. “Tell me more about your family.”
Hylla thinks for a moment on what she should start with, surprised at how interested he is. “Well, my dad’s family is from Puerto Rico; They moved here when he was eleven. My mom’s family came over from Southern Europe before the first world war. They’re both deeply connected to their cultures, so we have a lot of strong traditions. Between running the shop and now this, I don’t get to see them half as often as I’d like, but we try to make a point of doing big family dinners as often as we can— which you will most definitely be getting dragged to at some point in the near future. There is no way they will let me get away with not bringing you around more than once, now that we’re public.”
Ashton chuckles, heart fluttering at the prospect of meeting the people that were so important to her. “Well, I’ll give it a week at most before the guys start showing up here unannounced to try and meet you, so I guess we’re even there.”
“Speaking of meeting people, we’re going to need a solid story of how we met because my family will pick up on anything that doesn’t quite match up, so our details need to be on point without seeming rehearsed.”
“The guys won’t necessarily need details, but if the situation seems weird, they’re gonna start asking questions we probably won’t be able to answer.”
“So we need details and a vibe.”
They sit quietly, only the sounds of their chewing disturbing the thoughtful silence as they run through scenarios. They occasionally bounce a few ideas off each other, shooting down the ones that would spark too many questions, before settling on meeting at a farmers market they both occasionally shop at.
They discuss the details of the meeting, occasionally jotting down details to remember, until long after their food has been finished. The conversations strayed frequently, and Hylla longed to hear more about the man beside her, who she suspected was holding something back, giving few details of his own life when she tries to reciprocate his curious nature.
Even after the details had been arranged, their conversation flowed easily, but Ashton remained reserved, worried if he shared too many of his own experiences, he’d lose sight of what he has in common with Hylla. He could recognize so much of himself within her— valuing her connections to her family and culture, the strong sense of creativity she pursued— despite the fact that they led completely different lives, and he clung to that connection, terrified she would lose what little interest in him he hopes she has without it. 
What Hylla does learn about him is mundane, but she adores the knowledge, nonetheless, They exchange random favorites— foods, movies, authors— and other small things, keeping their conversation light until Hylla decides she’s stayed her welcome.
Upon arriving home, she immediately takes Karma for a walk, taking some time to think over the predicament Ashton presented. She’s close with her family, and has never been good at hiding things from them. If one of them directly pointed out something was weird about the couple, she isn’t sure she will be able to keep up the act.
Her worries continue to pester her as she sets things up in the shop for the next morning, and while she attempts to sleep. Eventually, after giving into her insomnia, she pulls a sketchbook from the pile on her desk and settles back on top of the comforter to draw.
She doesn’t pay as much mind to what she’s drawing as she does to blending each part into a single piece. She starts with thin line work, dainty lines flowing to the edges of uncompleted figures, but quickly switches to thicker, bolder marks, all but overtaking the delicate start to the piece. When she comes back from her place deep in her thoughts, and takes the time to examine what she’s done, she is shocked at the wholeness of the piece. Even without the detailing of a finished piece, it seems cohesive and clear-cut, as though it told a story.
The upper half of a wolf vaguely encircles the dainty, loopy outline of a girl holding a flor de maga, a Puerto Rican hibiscus flower, as though using it as a pen. The wolf’s teeth are bared, but its expression is soft and curious as it faces the girl, who appeared to be unbothered by the beast’s presence, focused on the image below them. In roughly the shape of a tiara, vague figures of half sketched people struggle toward a man holding a flag, standing firm against strong winds. The piece bleeds with emotion, feelings of passion, admiration, understanding, and inner strength.
Hylla stays up until the wee hours of the morning, shading and adding details to the piece until she feels as though she’s done it justice. It’s raw, and she doesn’t quite understand why the textures and patterns work together, but everything fits together in a way that satisfies her. Finally, she moves the sketchbook to her nightstand, sprawling out on the bed to get some sleep before she has to open the shop.
~~~
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littlejeanniebean · 4 years
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Ep. 3 | The Marauders: Riddle Records
A/N: “Come to the dark side. We have a solo career.” - Tom Riddle Jr., probably. On a lighter note, I can just see them backstage like this by the lovely artist @theimpossiblefifth​. Read on AO3 :) Enjoy! - J xx
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One look in your eyes
I can read your mind
 You're naughty, my type
Care for a good time?
You could be just like all your high society friends at high tea
You could get with a football player
But there’s nothing like a shot of adrenaline in the morning
You know you want a dragon slayer
“Like me,” James mouthed seductively to the camera and winked.
“I’m Alice Fortescue, these wonderful lads are The Marauders, thank you for joining us this Saturday Night Live!” the actress grinned widely as the camera backed away.
The boys all gathered around her in a group hug.
“Holy shit! That was incredible!” Obviously, this was Sirius speaking.
“You were wonderful, honey,” a low voice whispered.
A smiling man with sweet eyes and a mop of dark hair put his arms around Alice.
“Oh, everyone, this is my boyfriend, Frank!” the bubbly actress grinned widely, “He’s a photographer for GQ.”
“Sick!” James shook his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Frank; lovely working with you, Alice; hope you’ll both come to one of our shows sometime, ta-ta!” Sirius practically dragged the band away before anyone could say anything more.
“What was that?” Remus tutted at his boyfriend.
“Yeah, ta-ta?” the bespectacled boy wiggled his nose to adjust his glasses that had gone askew, “Who says that?”
“Not what I meant,” the pale, mousy-haired boy shrugged off his suit jacket in their shared dressing room.
“Look, I’ll explain later!” Sirius pleaded, “Just hurry up and let’s get the hell -”
“Yoo-hoo! Siri!” a warbling, high-pitched voice giggled on the other side of the door, “This is their room here, Tommy...”
“Christ,” the dark-haired boy covered his face with his hands. 
“We’ll deal with Bella,” James set his jaw and turned to the other two, “Ready?”
Remus and Peter rolled up their dress shirt sleeves and nodded.
The trio filed out of the dressing room, forcing Bella Black and her friend backward, and immediately shut the door behind them.
“He doesn’t want to see you or any of your family again, Bella,” said James sternly, giving the show's new cameraman the stink-eye for good measure. 
Bella stuck her tongue out childishly. 
Her guest grimaced and offered his hand to the boys, “I’m sorry about her. She overheard I was interested in speaking with you young talents and… well, it got a bit out of hand. I’m Tom Riddle, of Riddle Records.” 
Really, the man with chiseled features and dark slicked back hair wasn’t much older than they were. But he was dressed more expensively than they could ever be comfortable with, even with the fresh success of their debut album.
“You’re Senior’s kid,” James nodded, his mother being an agent in the industry. He noted just the smallest flinch at the mention of the man's father. “With all due respect, we already have a label.”
“A label that has you locked into a contract as a group,” Tom gave them each his card and presented James with another one for Sirius, “We would pay any fees associated with breaking your current contract, then we would launch your solo careers - James as the pop prince, Sirius as the rock and roll bad boy, Remus as the R&B god, and Peter as the jazz legend!”
“We’re better musicians together,” said Remus.
Tom leaned in, “Your success now, quadrupled. Plus the potential for high-engagement collaborations among you. The freedom to create in your own style on top of that. Imagine it. And give me a call.”
"Ta-ta," Bella blew them each a kiss in a way that could only be described as menacing. When they were out of the boys' earshot she simpered, "You're such a clever businessman, Tommy."
"Don't call me that," he yanked his arm away and pressed his phone to his ear irritably, "I found us some new business and laid the groundwork. Can I have my allowance now?" 
The Marauders flew back to Scotland that night and rehearsed for months until they were ready to drop before flying back to LA for Night One. 
“Nervous?” Sirius whispered while they waited for their opening act, DJ Dedalus Diggle, to finish his set.
“Why would you ask me that?” James huffed, adjusting his bright red tie for the umpteenth time. 
“You need more glitter,” Molly patted his cheekbones lightly with her pointer finger, which was covered in the golden stuff.
“Five minutes, boys!”
“Thanks, Arthur!” Remus spoke for them all.
“We’ve got this, Jimbo!” Peter bounced excitedly on his heels.
“Easy for you to say. You’ve been performing at recitals since you were big enough to reach the keys from the bench.”
“The jitters never get old,” his baby-faced friend told him, “but we’re all going out there. And with everything we do together, we always have fun.”
James nodded to himself and made sure to check on their drummer for the tour, “You good, Kingsley?”
The man in a rose-red disco suit twirled the sticks deftly in his hands, “Let’s do this.”
“... and now, Los Angeles,” Diggle hyped the crowd, “give it up… for The Marauders!”
The lights went up and the boys looked out at the incredibly emotional fans who’d come to see them.
“Right,” James whispered, reaching for the microphone with shaking hands, “A-one, two, three.”
I don’t have a lot of time
I’m running for my dear life
Can’t breathe without you by
Aye aye aye
It’s a full house
But I’ll seek you out
It’s a wild crowd
But I’ll seek you out
I don’t know how
But I’ll seek you out
James couldn’t help grinning ear to ear as Sirius broke out into his guitar solo.
Remus pointed out a sign that said, “Marry me, James Potter!”
The lead singer laughed and spoke into his mic, “Well, will you buy me dinner first, at least?” 
The girl promptly fainted.
Arthur was by her side immediately to make sure she was alright.
“Oh, dear, you’ve hit your head,” Molly crouched down beside him and handed the young girl an ice pack.
The red-headed manager got his first good look at the videographer and her multi-pocketed fishing vest and cargo pants.
She noticed him staring, “I’ve known these boys a long time. You never know what you’re going to need.”
“Good advice,” he helped her and the fan back up in one go, “I’m Arthur.”
“Molly,” she grinned, hoisting her camera back onto her capable shoulders and focused back in on James.
Under your spell, I like how you play it
Keeping it cool is so overrated
Waiting on you, every breath bated
Hey hey hey
They played LA two more nights before moving on to San Francisco. Then Vegas, then Seattle, and across the rest of the continent, all the way to New York.
“Madison Square Garden,” James swallowed, taking in the iconic jumbotron above their heads and the entire stadium, really.
Just three hours later, he was up on that very stage, sweat trickling down his back and the bridge of his nose as he sang his heart out about a funny story the designer, Lily Evans once related about her sister via Instagram post.
There’s a little house on Privet Drive
Where nothing ever happens
Little curtain twitcher of a wife
And a little boy and husband
But when they leave for their nine to five
And the little boy goes to school
The little old lady with cats ninety-nine
Does what she wills to do
Living next to ordinary no. 4
So much to do, so much to explore
The grocer down the street from me
His daughter left for university
And he needs the comfort of my tabbies
Yessiree, that’s what I’m here for
Your neighbour next to ordinary no. 4
After that, they went all over South America. The streets were typically too narrow to drive a tour bus around, so they often jetted from one country to another and rented a little convoy of minivans to take them to the arenas from their hotels and back.
“Shit, Petey’s got food poisoning!” Remus fussed over the poor boy.
“I’m fine! Really!” the blond insisted before doubling over and retching once more.
“I can fill in,” DJ Diggle adjusted his signature flat cap, “I have all your songs pre-recorded -”
“We have half an hour to get it out of his system!” Sirius declared determinedly, “We’re not going on without you, Pete!”
“I’ve got the doctor!” Arthur came in, followed closely by a middle-aged woman with apple cheeks and curly hair.
“You need to replace your fluids,” Molly handed Peter a bottle of electrolytes.
“Yeah, it’s a common bacterial infection going around among tourists,” said the doctor, giving him a dose of antibiotics, “He’s not in any shape to perform, you lot, so you might as well let him rest.”
“I can - oh,” Peter ran to the bathroom.
“How soon can you give him another dose of that?” Sirius asked anxiously.
“Not any time in the next half hour,” she narrowed her eyes at him, apparently having overheard his earlier proclamation.
“Poppy’s right,” said Arthur, “Peter’s health comes first. Dedalus, isolate the keyboards in every track and queue the set list.”
“Try to keep in time,” Sirius added.
“No improvising for tonight, lads,” Arthur warned the regular band members.
“But -” 
“I’m serious.”
“And so am I!” he could only maintain a straight face for two and a half seconds after he said this.
James sighed as they waited for the DJ to introduce them half an hour later, “It’s not going to be the same without Peter.”
“We’ll make the best of it, Jimbo,” Remus assured him, “and he’ll be back with us for the next one.”
The frontman set his jaw, pushed his glasses up his face and pulled the microphone to his lips.
Do you remember
The games we used to play
Mermaids underwater
Aliens in outer space
Do you remember
The sticks we’d raise aloft
We called them swords and never
Lost the battles that we fought
Peter was back on stage the next night, to much celebration and all too soon, they flew back across the pond for their European leg. Of course, their first stop was Scotland.
“It’s so good to be home,” James sighed happily, pausing to wipe his glasses on the hem of his shirt and winking at a girl who lost it at the sight of his abdomen, “This is our last song. Please join in if you know the words. Or make them up. Just have a good time. Be as loud as you want to. We love you all, thank you for everything you’ve done for us. We’re the luckiest boys in the world.”
Is there a risk to it?
Is it a challenge?
If there isn’t, if it isn’t, I don’t want it
Yeah, I wanna do some damage
I feel lucky tonight
I got you by my side
Seven days in a week
And you spend them with me
So hell yeah, I feel lucky
"That sounds really good, Pete," said James from where he lay on the floor of their stage after the arena emptied, "We could use that."
Peter chuckled, "It's Chopin. A waltz."
James ambles over and his friend makes room for him on the bench.
"It's a split C chord, then F, A flat..." he guides him through the song. It's out of time and messy, but they're having fun. "James…"
"Yeah, Pete?"
"What are we going to do about Tom Riddle's offer? I mean, his dad’s label practically owns half the music industry. And Castle is just this little independent… He could make our lives more difficult than he already has." 
"Unless we join him, you're thinking?" 
"We could ask Arthur to negotiate a group contract just the same. I doubt they'll dislike the idea of paying less upfront."
"But what about loyalty to everyone at Castle? McGonagall? Urquart?" James shook his head, "We're having a successful tour in spite of the ticket bots Riddle set on us. We're looking out into seas of fans all wearing our merch in spite of his shipment hijacking. And we're having bloody good time because we're not letting any of the homophobic slander he's fueled the press with get to us."
"Here, here!" cheered Sirius, clinking his beer bottle with his boyfriend's.
"Right, rest up, lads! You deserve it with all the work you put into this show," James stood and ambled back to the tour bus, where Shacklebolt was already sleeping soundly, being the earliest riser of them all.
“Goodnight, all!” Peter loved his friends, truly. But he was convinced their stubborn sense of the meaning of courage would do them a great disservice.
As always when confronted with a decision to make, he visited the only jazz bar in Scotland, the Leaky Kettle. Immediately upon stepping inside, he let the smooth piano carry away the stress. 
“The usual,” he told the bartender.
“Put it on my tab,” Tom Riddle swivelled around on the bar stool, "Fancy meeting you here."
"You mean you didn't expect to? Didn't plan it?" Peter received his drink with barely more than a sideways glance at their adversary.
"It's just business, Peter. I know you understand that."
"Then why go through all this trouble for one act? There must be thousands - hundreds of thousands - of talented artists who could make you rich."
Tom rolled his eyes, "My father was always… a bit single-minded. He wants to put me through my paces before handing me the keys to the kingdom, so to speak. But don’t worry about that. Just know this: I think your group is talented and I can see that you’re the musical glue holding it all together. You’re the only one with any formal training, after all. And I really can see to your career’s longevity. If you stick with this boyband too long, though…” 
Peter raised his eyebrows, “Then what?”
“Well,” the label executive leaned in, “then you’ll need to think about what that does to your image as a real, serious musician.”
The blond boy finished his drink. 
“Another one for my friend,” Tom told the bartender, took his jacket, and left.
His calling card sat heavy in the keyboardist’s wallet.
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