#the fucking antithesis of that. when i don’t even believe my own words. like the way i want to punch out every window in this building rn i

[pepprs]

i literally need there to stop being situations circumstances events developments complications and happenstances. for the fucking love of god

#purrs #but there will never stop being any of those things so actually what i literally need is to learn HARD AND FAST how to stop getting so #fucking triggered over a situation i know is NOTHING so bad that im anxious for the entire rest of the day and can’t even get any work done. #like (jade from tesco voice) girls… im not gonna lie to you. i think therapy is not working. i think i am not mentally or emotionally strong #enough to work in this job and i think i am never going to get mentally or emotionally stronger. ive been stuck in the quicksand too long #and now im atrophying. i cannot develop the situational awareness and motor skills or awakeness (and i mean AWAKEness.) to safely and #consistently drive a car. i cannot develop the intellect and drive and courage to get an advanced degree or be in a leadership position that #everyone actually sees as a leadership position lmfao. and i cannot develop the emotional intelligence and inner peace to not get triggered #out of my fucking mind at work to the point where im having anxiety heart palpitations and fighting back tears. i am just stuck as i am #forever. and you know how i know that? BECAUSE IVE WORKED AT THE NATIONALLY RENOWNED CENTER FOR YOU-ARE-NOT-STUCK-AS-YOU-ARE-FOREVER FOR #FIVE FUCKING YEARS SINCE ITS LITERAL FOUNDING AND HELPED TO FOUND IT AND IM STILL LIKE THIS!!!!!!!!!!!! i go back to square one EVERY #FUCKING DAY!!!!!!!! how am i supposed to tell other people who they are is what they bring and the world can change and whatever when i am #the fucking antithesis of that. when i don’t even believe my own words. like the way i want to punch out every window in this building rn i #HATE BEING LIKe this i hate being in the psychic prison of scared little girl mode all the time forever no matter what and being beyond help #and disappointing and burdening the people around me because i can’t be fucking normal about like. hierarchy and institutional politics LOL #delete later

[helliontherapscallion]

Phantasmagoria (Adrenaline Junkie Part 16)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of injuries, death, depersonalization, grief

REMINDER: you are real. the topics discussed in this is fiction and not reality. you are loved and valid, hydrate and eat 3 meals a day <3

Word count: 2,645

You were in and out of it for the next few days. Whenever your eyes would crack open and you would even slightly move your arm, you would be in immense pain before you would pass out again. You could sometimes hear the voices of your family talking to you, but never Arthur. Good, he definitely shouldn’t see you like this. 

Whenever you heard Philza, he would be talking to you about all the journeys he’s been on in his hundreds of years of living. Oh yeah, you found out that he was an immortal being that can’t die. Your brain was too tired and clouded to contemplate it. 

Whenever you heard Technoblade, his monotone and deep voice always eased your worries. It gave you something to focus on; if anything, his voice was the one that cut through the fog the most. He would always recite Greek myths to you, often telling you that you reminded him of a few characters. 

Whenever you heard Wilbur, all you heard was him asking you questions such as ‘how was your day’ or ‘what do you think of someone-so’. He would talk to you as if you were conscious, often having one sided conversations with you. Sometimes he would bring his guitar and compose new songs, asking you if he should keep a lyric or if he should throw it away. 

Whenever you heard Tommy, it broke your weak heart. It was like your little brother was a completely different person; his usually loud and upbeat tone was reduced to a quiet and broken one. He was the one that wouldn’t talk much, instead he would sit with you and eventually after a day or two (you think) of silence he would play his jukebox. But whenever he did talk (which was rare) he would tell you how scared he was seeing you like that on the table. 

As time passed, you could feel yourself slipping deeper and deeper into your subconscious. It was like you were fading away, but you couldn’t fight against it. You wouldn’t fight against it; you could feel your pain fading and it was a great relief. You only wished you could hear your family’s voices before you completely left them, they were fading as well. Eventually, everything slipped into nothingness and you felt… euphoric. 

When you opened your eyes, everything was black. You were sure that you had your eyes open, so why was everything so dark? Was this the afterlife? You expected it to be more… heavenly. However, you weren’t complaining; your entire body felt light and you felt waves of peace waft over you. This was nice. You didn’t have much time to relax while you were living. 

After a while of staring into nothingness and just peacefully floating in one place, you became restless. Sure this was nice, but your hands itched to tinker with something. You’ve never done well with sitting in one place for too long, that’s always been your weakness. You tried to push your body off from anything so you could at least float around, but that proved useless when there was nothing to push off from. When you tried flapping your wings- well, wing- you only succeeded in spinning in circles. At least you thought you were spinning in circles, the inky abyss was unchanging and it was starting to mess with your perception. Your senses felt like they were deprived, but the worst thing about it was the overwhelming silence. 

So, you talked to yourself to fill the ringing silence. You were merely voicing your thoughts, repeating your lessons you’ve taught Arthur over the last few weeks. After a while, you were running out of things to talk to yourself about. So, you sighed and crossed your arms. They were very pale, you were actually dead this time, huh? You could only wait to see your brothers and Arthur when it was their time, hoping that they wouldn’t come to you too soon. It pained you to remember that you would probably never see Philza again, but who knows; the universe has a strange way of working. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, (y/n).” You screamed at the soft voice that cut through the overwhelming silence and whipped your head around. There stood a woman that looked to be in her early thirties with long black hair and tanned skin. You could not see the upper half of her face as it was covered by a crow mask, however her eyes glowed a bright white. She was smiling at you with melancholy and bittersweet happiness. The two giant white feathered wings sprouted from her back were glowing slightly. The powerful and intense aura that loomed around her was the complete antithesis of the gentle smile she was giving you. 

“Calm down,” she flew over to you and wove her hand in the air. You immediately felt a wave of calm ease over you. “That’s better. You’ve been through so much, my little fledgling.” Her little fledgling? That was something you’ve recently started to call Arthur. 

“Who are you?”

“Oh where are my manners? I’m Kristin, the Goddess of Death. I wish I didn’t have to do this, but I’m here for your life.” You hummed, “that makes sense.” She tilted her head slightly and somehow the eyeholes of the mask morphed into an eyebrow raise. Was that her actual face? “You’re not scared of death?” 

“No, I’ve already died twice- no, three times already. But this is- it’s different. Is that because I’ve lost my last life?”

“You’ll find out in due time. Ender, you’re everything Phil described you as and then some.”

You perked up slightly, “you know my Dad?” Her airy chuckle brought you even more at ease, “of course I do, he’s my husband.”

You gaped at her, “so does that- does that make you my mom?”

“Only if you’re comfortable with it, I wouldn’t want to push you into something you didn’t want.”

“I’ve always wanted a mom. D-don’t get me wrong, Dad’s done more than enough for me he’s an amazing parent-”

“I understand and I’d love to be the mother of someone so smart. You’re destined to do great things one day, my little fledgling.” You tilted your head slightly, “greater than being an inventor?”

She nodded, her black locks swaying with the movement, “greater than being an inventor. Our time together is coming to a close.” She flew over gracefully and pulled you into a hug. You reciprocated it. Her hug felt warm and welcoming. It was hard to believe that she was the Goddess of Death, you always thought Kristin would be ruthless and cruel. 

“You will face many trials and tribulations and you must persevere through them. This is indeed your reality, but you share it. Do not be afraid to ask for help. The world can be a lonely place, but remember that you are never truly alone.” 

She pulled away from you and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, the beak of her mask poking you. Suddenly, the weightlessness feeling disappeared and you felt a tugging sensation from deep within your chest. Your body was sent flying through the abyss, the gripping sensation you felt in your inner chest felt very intimate somehow. After a bit of screaming, you were still flying through the void. You had no idea how long you were flying for, but eventually you just crossed your arms and went limp in the mysterious embrace. Aaaanny time now. 

Eventually you saw a pinprick of light far off into the distance and it was rapidly approaching you. You sighed out a drawn out “finally.” And watched as it came at you at mach speed. After you crashed into it, everything went white. 

You jolted up with wide eyes and looked around panting. You saw the walls of your childhood room? So you didn’t die? Then what the hell were you doing in the void? You were so sure that you died permanently. That you lost your last life. When you glanced out the window, everything was dark. When you sat up, you felt the familiar tugging sensation of the scar tissue around the base of your wing, except it was less intense and you had less mobility in your right shoulder. You glanced at the hearts on your wrist expecting to see three empty outlines. Instead, two ruby red hearts stared at you.

Impossible. Impossible. You were in your last life so even if you didn’t die, you should still only be in your last life. Your second life was taken from you in an explosion. It should not show up on your wrist. Furrowing your eyebrows, you ignored the sound of the door opening and footsteps rushing towards you. You ignored hands appearing in your vision and hovering unsure above your hand. 

You only looked up when the hand grabbed your wrist and blocked the two perplexing ruby red hearts. You saw Philza with a look of immense relief on his face. “How’re you feeling?”

“I don’t know.” You looked back at your covered wrist and took it out of Philza’s grasp, staring at the two red hearts again in confusion. “I-I should only have one life. Where’s Arthur? Ender, he’s probably so scared. Did you leave my prosthetic in the cave?” Your rapid fire questioning was stopped by a hand on your shoulder. 

“Slow down, you only just respawned.” You threw your hands up in frustration (well, you tried with your right arm, it only moved to about two thirds of your full range of movement before you felt a slight pain and a stretching sensation), “how the hell do I respawn when I was on my last life?” 

“You aren’t-”

“Yes I am! Fuck man, how do you forget that?! First time: Warden. Second time: explosion! I know I just died for the last time, so how am I still here?!” You glared up at him. It astonished you that he just forgot about the first two times you died. Who forgets their own kids’ deaths? It takes a real monster to forget things like that. 

“(Y/n), you’ve only died once and that was because the infection you got was too severe,” he put a gentle hand on your shoulder and pulled you into a hug. You pushed him away and seethed, “How do you not remember! Ender, did the last two and a half years just escape you? You’re fucking immortal, almost three years is nothing to you!” 

“Two and a half- (y/n). Two and a half years ago you were fourteen and you were barely just learning how to do tricks midair.”

“No, I’m twenty years old! How the fuck do you forget your own kid’s age?” 

“You turned seventeen six months ago, (y/n).” 

You ran a frustrated hand through your hair and laughed sardonically, “I’m not dealing with your bullshit right now. Where’s Arthur?” You stood up with shaky legs and swatted his hands away. “I don’t know an Arthur. Please lay back down, you’re-”

“First you forget my deaths, next my age, and now Arthur?! What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Where is he?” You gritted the last sentence out through clenched teeth.

“Who-”

“Curly red hair, freckles, always smiling, about yay high,” you flailed your hand from side to side rapidly at your mid torso, “your grandson. That ring a bell?”

“No because I don’t have a grandson. Sit down, I think I know what’s happening.”

“No. Not until I see Arthur.” You brushed his shoulder as you walked by him and out of the room. You could hear him following behind you, but you ignored him. After you ripped Arthur’s door open, you paused in the doorway. 

The entire room was decorated with Wilbur’s belongings. Instead of random bags of redstone dust and small contraptions that Arthur was too proud of to throw away, piles of sheet music and the occasional book was strewn about. Instead of the poster of you Arthur had hung up on the wall (you had laughed at it at first, he still geeked out over you even though you were his parent), a picture of the family was there. Despite it being a sweet picture (it was one of the very few ones of the family where everybody was smiling at the artist and not moving around), it shook you to your core. “A-Arthur?” You whispered in a broken voice. What was going on, where was he? 

You faintly felt someone put a hand on your shoulder. You however stood frozen clutching the door handle in your hand until you walked over to the nightstand. It was completely barren except for the glasses case sitting near the lamp. This isn’t right, this isn’t right at all. Arthur’s things should be there, not Wilbur’s. 

“No, no, no, no this isn’t right.” You broke off into mumbling while staring at Arthur’s (or Wilbur’s?) nightstand desperately trying to find the feather hidden somewhere. Once again, you felt a hand on your upper arm. “Everything’s right, (y/n).” You said nothing as you stared at the glasses case on the nightstand. “C’mon, let’s go sit down.” You barely registered him leading you gently back to your room and handing you a glass of water. “(Y/n)?” 

“Why is his stuff just- just gone? Everything was there before I left.”

Philza was silent for a moment, his feathers ruffling and brushing against your arm. “...Sometimes when a person’s been through something traumatic and they’re about to die, they sort of… make up their own reality without knowing that they’re doing it. It’s the brain’s way of coping. 

“This reality could last anywhere from a few days to years for them with the events seeming real, but in actuality only a few minutes have passed and nothing that the person thinks happened actually happened. It’s just the person’s subconscious mind playing out scenarios that they think would happen or wished had happened.”

You felt like you were previously walking on a stable sheet of ice before you were plunged into the icy abyss of unknowing. You felt several emotions coursing through your veins ranging from anxiety and frustration to grief and disbelief. The cup of water in your hands became incredibly blurry before you were pulled into his chest. He wrapped his arms and wings around you tightly and held your face securely against his shoulder. He started rocking you back and forth as you felt the tears silently leave your eyes and your breathing shudder. You felt yourself start to sob when a barrage of thoughts came and the reality of the situation hit you.

None of your inventions actually existed.

L’manberg doesn’t exist. 

Your name was unknown.

The last two and a half years were pointless.

Arthur doesn’t exist. 

Your precious Artie, the little boy that idolized you, begged for you to teach him everything you knew, followed you around like a little duckling, held your feather against his chest as he slept, enthusiastically asked you if you could take him flying, your little fledgling, your pride and joy, your son, didn’t fucking exist. You were never going to see his smile again. You were never going to laugh with him as you took him into the clouds. You were never going to cook breakfast with him again. He was never going to give you magnets again. He was never going to ask you to teach him something or ask you to help him with his own inventions. He was gone and there was nothing you could do to get him back. 

“I- I prom-mised him that I’d never leave him.” You sobbed into his shoulder, clutching onto his shirt. “I fucking promised him and I’m never gonna see him again.”

(A/N): ok so a little explanation, chapters 4-mid 15 didn’t actually happen. It was in the reader’s mind as after they passed out in chapter 3. There was foreshadowing (esp in chapter 4, I consider chapter 4 to be the chapter where the brain is getting used to the illusion it set up (hence the title “what is real”)). It explains why the reader couldn’t remember their own death. The line “You were probably still in the cave bleeding out as your delirious mind turned stone into the comforting walls of your home. You were probably imagining hearing your dad’s voice in a last chance to comfort yourself as you neared your impending doom” was pretty self explanatory. In the last chapter, the souls saying “wake up, we need to get you out of here” and “don’t leave me” were Philza’s voice cutting through (”The voices ranged from... familiar to unfamiliar”)

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#sbi x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #sbi family au #tw: swearing #tw: death #tw: injuries #tw: depersonalization #tw: grief

[spiltscribbles]

Prompt 37 (from the first list) and bodyguard au seems interesting

By the way I love your writing please never stopped just finished your recent fic and its one of my favourites.

~Notes: 😭😭😭 baby u can’t be out here recklessly making me sob!!! I am so flustered right now!! Thank you so much for being a beautiful soul 😌😌 ok NEGL the bodyguard thing is not here Becs I’m dumb and couldn’t think of one, but there’s protective sirius💜 I hope you don’t hate this!!! ILU!!!

.-

Smash Game  |  Send Me A Prompt💜 |  A Reblog Means SO Much!!!!

.-

Alphard Black was a good man,  a man of his community,   a man of the law. He taught the ins and outs of the constitution  at Columbia, never went an inch over the speed limit, hell, he even  separated his recyclables into their proper piles for the garbage collector, and  all while spending his down time volunteering at some sort of virtuous charity or impactful outreach program for inner city youths—the man basically leaped right out of the screen of some cheesy, after school special, wacky ties and rumpled hair aplenty.

Alphard Black was a virtuous, humble man who abided by the laws set out for him to a painstaking degree—So Sirius sorta thinks it’s hilarious that he’s kind of the exact antithesis of his uncle— the man who brought him up after running away from his bat shit parents and their bat shit values as the top of the one percent.  Just kind of though.

Sirius likes to think he’s still a good guy—albeit in the typical, non second coming of Christ wannabe kind of way.  He gives spare change to homeless folks at Grand Central, doesn’t sneer at raucous kids inside of restaurants or busses… for fuck’s sake  he even smiles at strangers more often than not—— just the typical, What a nice day isn’t it, smile and not, I’m actually a blood thirsty maniac ready to carve out all your organs and wrap your naked, dead body in saran wrap Dexter style, smile…Which is actually a type of smile Sirius has become intimately familiar with considering that unlike his Uncle Alphard, Sirius may have a problem with the whole “Laws are created for the good of the public,” ideology, and rather subscribes to the way of thought that thinks it’s kind of thrilling to see how much you can bend and skirt around the rules till they break, or till he gets caught. Which in turn mostly manifests into Sirius participating in a very high demand business—the sort that’ conducts it’s transactions within the metaphorical underground, and makes it so he spends his days with a group of brilliant  assholes that he considers family, and a discretely wicked boy who he thinks is most probably the love of his god forsaken life.

Mother Mary,  help them all.

~*~

“Padfoot too Moony, are you in, Moony.” 

A moment of static passes before Remus’s voice trickles through the minuscule bluetooth  snuggled in Sirius’s ear, and he can’t help but smirk. “Why are you still trying to make these codenames work—they don’t work, they’re all awful and trash,  and we should just stick with the numbers we were given when Moody first scouted us.”

“Mmm yeah, Moons, talk dirty to me.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,”

“Say trash again.”

“I hate you,” Remus intones. He  sounds all surly and bothered, and Sirius’s fingers curl together to card through the phantom strands  of his hair, knowing full and well how adorably flustered Remus gets whenever they are having one of their little sparring sessions—It’s also the same look he gets whenever he’s incredibly turned on and has no idea how to handle it. Coincidence? Sirius thinks not.

“Ah, Moony, my love, you say that as if my perfect baritone isn’t the highlight of your day. Like you don’t write sonnets and odes about it’s every cadence and lilt in your little diary you think I don’t know about. As if—“

“I’m shutting you off now,” Remus cuts in with his best, I’m trying to pretend  that I am so totally annoyed even if I’m actually really amused by you and all your antics, voice. It’s one that’s basically come second nature to him whenever he speaks to Sirius, ever since they had met three years ago and Sirius had to teach him the trick of the trade after Remus had been invited into the fold, while also trying not to completely accost him with his lips and hands and teeth until the work day was over.

“You would never.” 

“You seriously have an overinflated sense of worth if you’re starting to doubt that I very much would,” Remus goads, but he forgets that Sirius can see every nook and cranny of the swanky penthouse from his perch in the getaway van, thanks to his very beautiful laptop monitor.  And yeah, Sirius can so totally spot that little flicker of a grin tugging on the edges of his pink lips,  where Remus is trying to hide it behind the flute of wine in his grasp—his very strong and capable grasp, one that’s wrapped around the neck of that glass just so tight—Oh, erm, yeah. That’s  a thought Sirius should definitely not be having at their current predicament.

“Righto, beautiful, whatever you say.”

“Was there an actual reason for your little interference, besides you being pissy that you had to take the get away position this time around?” Remus sighs, long suffering before offering a subdued, half grin to a very haughty looking woman passing him, predatory leer on her plump lips. And jeez, Sirius bemoans her poor eardrums if they’re suppose to be carrying diamonds that thick all night long— Poor hag will probably end up needing stitches like his dear mother.

“I missed you is all, lover.”

“Goodbye, Sirius.”

“Oh fine, you total spoil sport. Just an FYI that Marlene’s gotten into the volt’s room, and she’s decoding it as we speak.”

“Oh, good. Should I-“

“Moons, it’s Marls, she’s got her shit handled. You just stand there and be a the good, pretty honeypot that we all know you can be.”

Remus growls somewhere deep in his throat, and it’s bringing a flurry of such beautiful imaginings to the forefront of Sirius’s mind— including last night, with Remus’s lovely, thin wrists tied up and Sirius’s mouth trailing up and down his every patch of skin.

God, was that a good night.

“You’re a pain in my ass.” 

“I know, it’s a point of pride for me that I get to say I tap that. But hey, always game to switch things up if you are?”

“You are the absolute worst person ever.”

“Ooo are we circling back around to speaking filthy things, because I’ve been having this fantasy including you and these lace—“

That’s when Remus actually does shut off the communication device, and starts chatting up some smarmy businessman who can’t stop staring at his protruding collarbones.

Sirius is most certainly not jealous.

Nope, not at all—Not even a little bit.

Sirius is not jealous.

Okay, fine…So he’s a bit bothered, but can anyone blame him? All of that—chorded muscles and sparkling eyes—is reserved for  Sirius, and Sirius alone. It’s taken years of volleying barbs and really intense sexual tension that was all finally resolved after a way too dramatic spat outside some sleazy BDSM club on the wrong side of town where Sirius got himself fucking shot, and Remus couldn’t stop yelling at him for being such a mother fucking, idiotic, thoughtless prick, (Remus’s words not Sirius’s,) for them to finally get to this point. For fuck’s sake, it seemed as if Remus’s anger fueled diatribe would never end, so Sirius just took the dilemma into his own hands and slanted their lips together, bloody and breathless, panting out an “I love you too,” while Remus just patted up and down Sirius’s torso, not knowing where to put his hands, dumbfounded and eager. As if he could hardly believe that it was actually happening, as if he was shocked that Sirius had finally just put them out of their mutual misery and spoke out loud what’s been lingering in their gazes, and tailing the ends of too short exchanges for years at that point—ones always composed of banter and barbs but always to fearful to take the extra step they yearned for.

Yeah, so it wasn’t exactly a cinderella story level of romance, but the point is they’ve fought tooth and nail to finally get to this point in their relationship. Nights made up of spilt hair on warm sheets, and  hungry kisses of farewell, and shirts tumbling together so many times that  they don’t even know which belongs to who anymore—All of them lingering with a sent of both of them, together. Something intimate. Something remarkable. Something far too soft when considering their line of employment—But it works for’m, and that’s all that counts.

Before Sirius could get to lost in getting all starry-eyed over the life they’ve built for themselves, Sirius moves to sweep his hands across the keyboard, A cautious eye still on Remus and his unwanted suitor while dividing the screen so that he can check back on Marlene’s progress, which is quite impressive if he does say so himself.

“And Black Widow pulls through again,” He commends with a low whistle, watching her practically stroll out of the volt, ancient artifact securely settled in the bag swinging off her shoulder, and cocky sneer proudly splayed across her pretty face.

“You know it dweeb.”

“THat’s not my code name,” Sirius points out  with a put upon exhale.

Marlene’s only response is to hike up her manicured brows in counterfeit surprise.  “you sure? I could’ve sworn…”

Sirius legitimately contemplates just driving off and leaving her stranded, signaling to Remus a separate meet up point for just the both of them. But Eventually, he reasons  that might be a bit of an over reaction. So he settles for just growling out a reminder for her  to “Respect the name,” while a glowing Marlene slinks into the passenger seat.

“Your so precious.” Sirius swats her hand away where she’s begun rubbing her knuckles into his scalp. “Call pretty boy and let’s bounce, will you?”

Reluctant, Sirius listens—only and only because he’s about ninety nine point five percent positive that she could probably beat’m to a pulp with one hand tied behind her back and both eyes glued shut.

~*~

The mission was one they’ve been calculating for months, a huge catch with a credibility brought with it that doubles its actual monetary prophet—(And wowza, that price check is all levels of ridiculous.) Moody is beyond  proud, and tells them as much with a crazy large celebration back at their little underground headquarters, (which is actually an entire floor on one of the top levels of a huge ass skyscraper in the meatpacking district that disguises itself as just a financial consultant firm in the light of day.)

It’s made even more wonderful considering how he, Remus and Marlene are basically the guests of honor for their success. So that night  they drink, and dance and just generally get absolutely slobbered…Then subsequently remember nothing the following morning, as tradition always dictates.

Though Sirius does  distinctly remember trading sloppy hand jobs in the bathroom with Remus while the latest Beyonce banger pounds in the space between them.

 It’s a good night.

~*~

Unsurprisingly, the hangover that persists even two days later really makes Sirius question the worth of all that celebrating, and he ponders on whether or not being sober would be so bad.

“Morning, Black!” 

Sirius cringes back at a crowing Dorcas—Looking as wickedly gorgeous and put together as always—Dark eyes clear and methodic, and long curls obviously freshly washed. 

“Sorcerous!” He accuses with as much vehemence as he could muster. “your evil! How are you even so perky! Stop it! Stop! You’re hurting my eyes!”

Dorcas just preens with far too much amusement than what should be warranted—it’s almost as if she’s enjoying his pitiful disposition. “Not all of us got as sloppy as you Saturday night may I remind.”

“Then you’re doing your entire life incorrectly.”

“I just have a modicum of self restraint, unlike you.”

“Lies! Lies and slander! I am so very disciplined! I didn’t even tell you guys about the time Remus gave me a blow job in the middle of a glass elevator when we were shopping for Jamsie and Lily’s engagement gift!”

Dorcas just rolls her eyes heavenwards, painstakingly exasperated. “C’mon, dumb ass, Alice needs you to use those hacking skills of yours to get the money Lestrange still owes us for collecting those tears of the ocean. And her bank account is sealed shut.”

“Ah, no Cas ’s too early! And my head hurts! I can’t.”

“Shouldn’t have been such a drunken mess during the party I reckon,” Dorcas scoffs with an imperious tilt of the head, tugging him along without even an ounce of sympathy.

“Hey! It was a celebration!” Sirius flails, and Dorcas just looks at him with a decidedly unconvinced glower. 

“It’s all in moderation Sirius.”

“Not at a party it isn’t!” He argues back, totally knowing he’s in the right.

“Yeah whatever, you’re just lucky you weren’t sent off to Shanghai with lover boy, which by the way,” Dorcas pivots on her heels  to face Sirius straight on, prodding at the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder.  “Looks like you missed a hickey sweets,” she toots loftily, poking at it again, a flush blooming across Sirius’s cheeks in response.  “Not good work decorum if you ask me.”

“You’re face ’s not good work decorum,” Sirius snarks back mulishly. Dorcas just laughs with glee.

“Do I need to talk to poor, innocent Remus about proper biting placement for you once he gets back?”

“Pff, Remus and innocent don’t belong in the same sentence.”

“Fine, then  I can just give you some tips on how to properly layer foundation? I’m sure it’s a travesty how easily shit shows up with your Wonder Bread complexion.”

“You actually are evil! Aren’t you?”

Sirius could still hear Dorcas’s cackles from down the hall where Alice has set him up for the morning, and he idly thinks to himself how exactly he’s made it so that every woman in his life could destroy him with nothing more than a look.

~*~

Considering that all of their  livelihoods are basically glorified bank robbers, Sirius knows that their jobs don’t really lend themselves to being able to check in on each other whenever they’d please—the only devices they’re allowed for communication are the bluetooth sets  for the team deployed on the task at hand, and a single burner. It can get annoying sometimes, but Sirius and Remus always make it a point to send each other a message from the router phone  whenever they arrive to the mission’s ground of operation—It’s a practice ingrained into them, one  they began long before they ever started dating, one  that they never break, not even if they’re arguing or it’s the middle of the night—It’s important. They’ve both lost to many people in their short lives, and they both know how it feels to be delegated to the worrying mess, wondering what’s happening to their loved one, being consumed by the most awful of possibilities. They do it because they respect each other far too much not to.

So Sirius finds it excruciatingly odd that he doesn’t hear from Remus in over thirty-six hours since he left to the Shanghai hit. 

“Maybe he just forgot, Pads,” James shrugs, always the level headed ringleader. “No Proclivity is absolutely bullet proof—Ah, excuse me for the unplanned pun.” He scratches the back of his head a little sheepishly— the glasses of his wireframes glinting in the light of their shared workspace.

And the thing is, point. James is totally right. Remus just could’ve forgot. It was a long plane ride, he could’ve just been jet legged and a little dazed and it could’ve just slipped his mind  to message Sirius when he landed. That’s totally a possibility. 

But see the thing is, that’s also totally not a possibility—like at all. Remus is like the most diligent person on the face of the planet, which may kind of seem out of character considering how he’s more of the type to follow his heart over protocol when it counts, and his entire livelihood is based off the evasion of the law—But even still, Remus is also the guy who likes a true and tried method. He likes having security in the aspects of his everyday  life he can control. Sirius knows how borderline neurotic Remus can get about certain things, like finishing all of his paper work the night it’s given, or having a stable workout regiment, and a bunch of other minuscule, everyday things that tethers him. But Sirius also knows that the texts Remus sends him blows all of those out of the water. They’re something crucial—something vitally important. If the roles were reversed, if it were Sirius who forgot to send the text, then yeah, Remus would have a perfect history to look back on and just shrug it off as Sirius having been thoughtless, no big deal. Remus would just make a note to give him  an ear full when he gets back. 

But the rolls aren’t reversed.

It’s Remus who didn’t send anything, and Sirius knows it in his heart of hearts that this is not normal, that Remus would never have forgotten. Remus would never have fucking been able to go to sleep without passing Sirius a message of safe arrival. It’s just not him. 

James still looks unsure even after Sirius’s way to verbose and borderline babbling explanation of why he knows something isn’t adding up, so he decides to hit him below the belt.

“If this were Lily you wouldn’t be second guessing this.” 

James jolts back as if Sirius had just smacked him, which Sirius guesses is kind of true, in the metaphoric sense at the very least. But whatever, Sirius’s right, and he knows it. 

IF this was Lily— the beautiful, kind baker that James had met coincidentally on a random Sunday afternoon, someone completely divorced from this world— well, there would  be no room for discussion.

“IF this were Lily you would trust your gut, and we’d already know what went wrong. We’d know that you were right, the she wasn’t safe.” Sirius’s face feels heated, and he knows that his throat is closing up, but he can’t help it god damn it. This is Remus—And even the thought of him being in any way hurt—No, Sirius refuses to think that way. Because he’s not, he can’t be. This is Remus god damn it. He’s brilliant and strong and he can handle himself. He’s what everyone in their group secretly strive to be—He’s not hurt, he can’t be hurt.

James just sits there, gawking at Sirius, for a moment of pure and utter silence. Sirius doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t fold back from the intensity in his best friend’s— his brother’s— gaze. 

“This is Remus god damn it, James”

Something fierce rippling over his face, James nods, finally seeming to understand.

“Let’s tell Moody,  and call a group meeting. We need to figure out what the hell’s going on.” 

Sirius sags with the little relief he’s given, pretends that it doesn’t feel like there’s not a wildfire still spreading over his chest  from the  bone deep fear.

~*~

Two hours later finds their little ragtag group huddled in the largest meeting room they have, and  Sirius hunched over a menacing letter that was hand delivered by one of Lestrange’s ghoulish little minions— Crouch if their intel is correct. 

“Any news is good news, right?” Peter— their mousey little researcher— says in some weak attempt of comfort from where he’s silently been situated in the love seat the furthest away from the lump some, and Sirius replies by snarling viciously at him;  making Peter shutter back, like the spineless weasel Sirius has always assumed him to be.

Sirius is not comforted. Sirius is furious and sick and he hates everything  in sight. And all Sirius could think of is Remus, Remus, Remus.

“What do we do,” James’s voice is strong, convicted in the painful silence of the room—But when Sirius looks up, he could still see the worry etched into his handsome features, and the fear threaded into his stance. 

James is scared, and that might worry Sirius more than anything else could. 

“This is my fault, I sanctioned just stealing the money she owed us and I was the one who thought Remus would be fine on a solo mission—I thought it’d be a simple grab. I didn’t put two and two together—I just didn’t—“ Alice breaks off, looking away from the group, and Frank slings an arm around his wife’s slender shoulders.

“Hey now, ’s not your fault, ’s not no ones,” as if to emphasize his point, Frank gives a downright menacing grimace to everyone in the room, daring them to disagree. “It’s Remus, he’s resilient. And that bitch knows if he’s actually hurt we’ll destroy everything she’s ever built for herself.” 

“Don’t be so sure,” Sirius’s surprised of the jaggedness of his own voice, leveling him with a look of utter fury. “She’s a psychotic, selfish, self indulgent bitch—There’s worse things than just beating him up or locking him in some cellar.” 

From the corner of his eye he sees Alice shutter, is briefly reminded of that stint where she was badly injured after a run in with one of the darker ringleaders in their line of work, Riddle. And then he remembers, unbidden, how that bastard has some sort of fucked up Harley Quinn, Joker esthetic going on with Bellatrix Lestrange— and a sick, twisted part of Sirius that actually does blame Alice for sanctioning those two risky missions so close together, is savagely pleased of the effect that the reminder has on her. But the rest of Sirius is just disgusted by himself and hates himself even more when remembering where Remus is at this very moment, and what he must be going through. There’s no time to be pointing fingers, and Sirius knows it.

“Whatever, no time to think of it now,” Sirius rises, and the way all of their eyes follow his every move (Even Moody who is the actual boss— doesn’t go over his head. 

“What do you think we should do from here?” Dorcas asks in a small voice, clutching onto the letter like a life line—She’s Remus’s best friend, Sirius knows that, knows that she stopped only skirting  along the edges of this unsavory line of work until Remus came along and helped her wiggle out of her shell. And the reminder makes Sirius feel such a burst of aching for Remus all at once that he nearly topples over, just barely catches himself with a hand on the tabletop.

“Peter,” Sirius barks, making the blonde finally straighten. “Check out where Bellatrix is scheduled to appear next.”

“Ah, erm on it, of course.” 

Sirius starts to feel a little better—no not better, balanced. He knows what needs to be done, what will   happen next, knows that it’ll turn out all right. 

It has to turn out all right, because he can’t fathom a world where it doesn’t— a world without Remus isn’t worth even a breath.

~*~

If there’s anything that Sirius knows about supreme bitch face herself, it’s that Bellatrix is  cavalier to a fault. So it really doesn’t surprise him when Peter finds out that she’s holding a little gala for her new play things art exhibit in her own home that night, and Sirius intends on giving his congratulations, whether or not he’s on the guest list. 

~*~

“Hey, can you hear me.” 

Sirius presses an inconspicuous finger onto his eardrum when Dorcas’s voice breaks through, speaking the affirmative. 

“All right, well Moody says that upstairs is most likely where you’ll find’m. Marlene and James will stay down at the party just incase anything goes wrong.” 

“Right,” Sirius nods to himself, trying to put together all the new information that’s swimming in his mind. “Thanks Cas.”

“Stay safe, and bring him home. Don’t fuck this up, Sirius.” Her voice is small and fragile. Sirius could picture the gleam to her big doe eyes. “We need you both safe.”

“Of course."

~*~

As expected, the upstairs is a labyrinth of doors and alcoves that Sirius could barely wrap his mind around, the only constant thought is that it makes sense that Bellatrix would want to keep the money from the job she had them perform for her. The rent for this place definitely can’t be cheap.

Sirius tries at least ten different rooms before he comes across one that’s locked from the inside as well as a deadbolt, and His heart seizes with a choked sort of hope before he starts pounding against it. 

“Remus! Remus! Are you in there!” His voice goes ragged at how loud he’s screaming, but Sirius doesn’t let up. He starts calling  for him even louder if possible. “Remus!” 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Sirius stiffens, his blood running cold before slowly turning around to a very amused looking Bellatrix Lestrange. Predatory sneer swept across her blood red lips, and weight slung to her left hip. The picture of radiance and leisure in her slinky, black dress. She’s having fun toying with Sirius, with all of them. 

“Where the fuck is he,” Sirius spits out tersely—trying to sear wholes right through her disarming face. He thinks with a start  that she’d be pretty in an almost unchanging way—a timeless elegance that kind of mirrors Remus’s. But where beneath Remus’s golden exterior is all passion and goodness and an endless capacity of love, under Bellatrix’s pale white skin and dark eyes and sheets of even darker hair is just ugliness and cruelty and Sirius has never hated anyone more, or so intensely.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry that they sent the best of their group to the den,” She swaggers up to him, each step premeditated—a lion closing in on her prey, and her leer right then— self assured and cruel all at once— is like a mirror of his mother’s so thoroughly that it’s painful. “I’d really hate to ruin those movie star good looks you’ve got going on,” she runs the back of her hand down his face slowly, tendrils of her warm breath edging his lips. “And honey, you really are so deliciously gorgeous. But Moody needs to learn that no one double plays me so flippantly. No  respect, that kind of behavior  really can’t be tolerated. You understand that, don’t you  love?”

Right then, Bellatrix moves to  gouge Sirius right in the stomach with a dagger she had hidden in the sleeve of her dress—but Sirius’s quicker. 

He sweeps Bellatrix’s feet right from under her, twisting her arm behind her back and using her own weapon to chop off the doorknob, all in one fluid movement. Though,  he only has a sparing moment to feel boastful before he steps into the room to find Remus—sickly looking with blood matted in his golden locks, before everything turns to a buzzing in  the background—Sirius runs on autopilot, with the only crucial thought being to get Remus out safely. 

“Baby, I’m here, I’ve got you.” Sirius tells him with the words catching in his throat, and feels such a drowning amount of relief when he hears a gargled retort from Remus. “I’d never let anything happen to you, love. I’m so sorry. I’ll never let something like this happen again.” Sirius tells him with all the earnestness in the world, gently collecting him into his arms. “I’ve got you now, I won’t let go.” The promise is  as sure and true as the pump of his heart—Remus, Remus, Remus.

~*~

When they all return to headquarters, everyone circles a still limp and shallowly breathing Remus, while Dorcas figures out the extent of his injuries.

It’s the worst hour of his life Sirius thinks—The not knowing, it hurts like nothing else. And he swears once more, to himself and the moonlight and the stars peeking through the skyline that he’ll never let this happen, never again., doesn’t want Remus ever out of his sight.

~*~

A week later, and everything feels as if it’s back to normal—more or less.

Their bedroom smells like sage—thanks to the candles Lily bought Remus for his last birthday—And Remus’s swaddled into the most comfortable blanket Sirius could find—his twisted ankle elevated, and a fresh bowl of soup on his night stand.

It’d be the picture of absolute bliss… Now if Remus wasn’t scowling so morosely. 

“You seem mad,” Sirius notes, standing over him with a freshly fluffed pillow. Remus looks up at him from under his spider leg lashes, so very unimpressed.

“You’ve never taken care of me  nearly so intently   a day in your life.”  Remus charges.

“Untrue!” Sirius squawks in contrary. 

“When I got food poising from that sushi place last year, you blamed me for eating it wrong.”

“Yeah, well it’s blasphemous to ever blame Kimiko! The woman is a titan!” 

Remus’s mouth quirks up, his eyes twinkling with unadulterated adoration. “You’re an idiot.”

Sirius deflates. “Okay, so I might be kind of majorly mother penning it right now,” Remus cranes a incredulous brow. “Okay, okay so a lot mother penning it. But, Remus— love— you were missing—like legitimately missing. And then i found you and you were…” He trails off, can’t even speak the horrors of that night. 

“Yeah, I was,” Remus links their fingers together, pulling Sirius closer, and opening his mouth so that when Sirius crouches to come face to face, he can kiss him properly.  “But you happen to be a pretty all right boyfriend, you found me—I’m fine. You made sure of that.”

“More than all right prick,” Sirius knocks their foreheads together and Remus feigns being in excruciating pain. “I fucking hate you,” he snorts, saddling against Remus’s side, and nuzzling into his neck, taking in the miraculous scent of him— the citrus and cinnamon and sunlight that he’s come to crave at all hours of the day. “I love you sort of a lot, and it was the worst three days of my life, all right. Can you understand that?” 

Remus only hums,  kisses the tips of Sirius’s fingers before lacing them into his own.

“I understand, love, but Sirius, I’m fine. I’m here. You’re amazing, but you don’t need to protect me. Not constantly. This is our lives, and I need you to trust me that I can handle myself for the most part. All right?” 

Sirius makes a displeased sound, lips curled distastefully, and it makes Remus actually giggle like they were school boys again. And Jesus, Remus’s smile is blinding and beautiful and fucking hell, he’s here. He’s back in there room, back in Sirius’s arms.

“God, I missed you.”

Remus crunches upwards, kissing Sirius, and it feels like a promise that he’ll never leave him again. “I love you Sirius.”

Sirius leers, isn’t ready to have the conversation about learning how to let Remus go out without him. So instead he traces his thumb over Remus’s beautifully plump bottom lip, and bends down to whisper into his ear. “So can we talk about the lace then, because I’ve made some purchases and—“

Remus pushes him off their bed, and Sirius feels his laughter punching out of him in response.

~*~

~My Wolfstar FIC Index💜

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #SIRIUSXREMUS #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #REMUSXSIRIUS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #MARAUDERS #THE HARRY POTTER SERIES #spilt ink #love you angel #?!!! #This is edited from an old old FIC of mine #in my drafts #and i'm afraid my writing is so so contrasting #rip #sdlkjgalksdfjoiwpqgdsa

[dclsbaby]

traitor - Dominic Calvert-Lewin 🦋

Summary: you reflect on your relationship, realised you've been wronged and should've trusted your gut

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 2.1k

masterlist

Brown guilty eyes and,

Little white lies,

I played dumb, but I always knew

That you talked to her, maybe did even worse

I kept quiet so I could keep you

It’s his green-hazel eyes that dissipate every logic, every sense of reason you had. It’s the way he would roll over to your side of the bed each morning to savour another 5 minutes before he has to leave, that made you feel yearned for and wanted. It’s the lingering kisses on your neck, on each shoulder and collarbone, that convinced you you’re the only one. It’s the grand dreams shared with you about your future together, filled with kids and their tiny jerseys, that made you believe his little white lies.

You had ignored the tingling sensation in the pit of your stomach that felt nothing like the butterflies you experienced on your first date with Dom. The feeling told you to succumb to your suspicions and unlock his phone, scroll through his messages and social media interactions. No, the feeling demanded you to swipe his phone, lock yourself in the bathroom, overstep boundaries, and find evidence of another woman. But that wasn’t who you are. You respected boundaries, and decided against it. You loved him enough to give him the benefit of the doubt.

The paranoia began to grow when you noticed the little things, such as the way he would put his phone screen-side down on the counter, or the way he brought it everywhere like it’s a part of him, even in the bathroom, or that he wouldn’t leave its sight when it's being charged. Then, these signs started getting stronger and more frequent. He’d get phone calls when you’re having dinner and every time you ask who it is, you’re always met with, “No one important enough to take me away from you,” and a kiss to suppress your suspicions.

Does he have anything to hide? You often ask yourself. Do I really want to know? Another voice asks.

You knew, deep down, that your gut was right. You knew what was happening behind your back.

It’s always the girl they tell you not to worry about.

You were first introduced to her one evening at a club event. Dom referred to her as the ‘girl with the magic hands’, to which you cringed at the innuendo. That was the first warning sign you ignored. Although shortly after exchanging names, you learned that she works at the training ground as a masseuse. Magic hands, makes sense, you thought. It did not make you feel better though.

You could see her appeal. You could imagine Dom and his teammates steal a glance, their eyes lingering much longer than they should. You could hear the locker room talk, words of adoration spilling from their mouths. Her charm is magnetising. She’s bubbly, she’s awfully kind. But did she really have to look like she could be on the cover of Playboy circa 2004 too? Though her beauty’s not your lack, it did not help with your brewing paranoia.

You can’t help but think she’s the reason he’s been staying back late at the training ground, why he comes home wearing a different shirt to the one he left with in the morning, and why he doesn’t talk about his day much anymore, as it probably mostly consisted of being lathered up in oil and getting sensual massages by a hot masseuse. The thought always made you sick to your stomach.

The overthinking had convinced you he had been seeing another woman right in front of you this whole time. But pretending that everything’s alright was so much easier than the inevitable confrontation, the accusation, the fight, the ending. So you kept quiet so you could keep him, and live in the false fairytale you try so hard to become reality.

Until you couldn't anymore.

—

And ain't it funny how you ran to her

The second that we called it quits?

And ain't it funny how you said you were friends?

Now it sure as hell don't look like it

You and Dom stayed friends after your relationship ran its course, for the first couple of weeks, at least. The days leading up to the break up were plagued with arguments over the little things like missing dinner plans and not keeping the room tidy, which led to bigger fights where you accused him of not being in love with you. Of course, he vehemently denied this, but you thought he didn’t fight for you enough. He didn’t push back, he didn’t give you a reason to stay, and that was enough for you to know that your relationship never stood a chance. You could handle disagreements and a few fights, but when you’ve been led to question your own worth—it’s done.

In the end, it was a mutual break up. It made sense, he needed to focus on his football and the constant fights weren’t helping his concentration. It was hard for him to leave each morning knowing you both went to bed angry, and although he would spend the drive home practicing his apologies, he would come home to find you fast asleep in bed before he could even make amends. As for you, well, you had to look for love elsewhere.

All seemed well until he turned more and more sour by the day. Sure, you didn’t expect to be glued to his hip at all times, or be the best of friends—you two broke up for a reason. But what you did not expect were the bitter remarks, the one-word replies, the sarcastic comments that portrayed the antithesis of who he was when he was with you.

Now you bring her around just to shut me down

Show her off like she's a new trophy

And I know if you were true

There's no damn way that you

Could fall in love with somebody that quickly

It all made sense when you began receiving texts from your friends attached with a photo of him with a young fan. You thought it was odd, why were you sent pictures of your ex with a fan, of all things? But there she was, in the background of the photo. Of course. Of course it was her.

More pictures started coming through of both of them in his black Range Rover driving around town, having coffee at your favourite coffee shop. You curse at him, now you have to find a new place to get your coffee. The pictures that stung the most were of the pair of them driving to the training centre together. Imagine the sight of a new couple in town pulling onto the Finch Farm carpark. You knew it wasn’t just a friendly carpool. She’s been staying on my side of the bed, you thought. Meanwhile, you’re still seeking the warmth from his side of the bed.

It dawned on you how much of a fool you’ve been. You feel angry for not trusting your gut, for letting yourself get played, for letting yourself take the beatings from people who had accused you for being with him for his money when it was you who was taken advantage of. If the love he had for you was true, it wouldn’t have taken him that quickly to find someone new.

—

You sat on your sofa for hours. Waiting to feel something other than numbness, the tingling sensation on the tip of your fingers from the shock is no longer there. The numbness eventually turned to chills, so you reach for a blanket in the woven basket next to the sofa. You wrap yourself into a cocoon, though all you wanted was to be a butterfly, spread your wings, and fly away. Pathetic. Even my metaphors remind me of him.

Feeling sorry for yourself, you sluggishly stood up and dragged your body to the kitchen and pulled out three different bottles of alcohol from the cupboard—ignoring what a senior had told you in uni to never mix alcohol unless you want to get absolutely wasted. You grab the glass from the top shelf, a cocktail shaker that came with the set your friend had got you for a secret santa gift, and make yourself a drink. One drink turned to two, to three. Then, you started watching recipe videos on YouTube on how to make a pornstar martini, which led to another two. 5 drinks in total. Lucky number 5.

After making a mess on the kitchen island, feeling delirious, you stumble across your flat, bumping a table on your way back to the living room, leaving a bruise on your hip that will hurt in the morning. The alcohol running through your veins giving you the urge to belt out a ballad and pour your heart out, so you somehow managed to open your music and play a song.

Don’t you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded?

Don’t you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?

You belted every word, not caring if your neighbours could hear you drunkenly sing the words to a depressing ballad about not being enough for a boy.

Realising with what’s left of your consciousness that your balance is becoming unsteady, you stagger your way to your bedroom, extending your arms, careful to not run yourself into any walls.

Upon reaching your bedroom, you undress yourself into just a bra and underwear and dive face first into your made up bed, curl up under the warm covers, and blankly stare at the ceiling. The lights appear as though it’s duplicating with every blink—you could’ve sworn there were only two.

With each passing second, you begin having flashbacks of him. Images of the bedroom you once shared which looks nothing like the room you’re in now tattooed in your brain. Whispers of “I love you,” and “you’re the love of my life,” haunt you as you try to shut your ears with your hands, desperate to rid of his voice. You feel angrier and angrier by the minute, waves of sadness taking over your body. You wanted him to know how you felt. You wanted him to know how badly he’s hurt you, something your sober self would never admit.

So you do what your gut tells you, no sense of reason in the way to stop you from unlocking your phone, scrolling until you’ve reached ‘D’ on your contact list, and clicking the name you’re looking for.

*ring*

*ring*

Pick up.

*ring*

You asshole, pick up.

*ring*

*ring*

Fuck this, I—

“Hello,” a hoarse voice answers. You inhale a sharp breath.

His voice. The exact voice you hear every morning at 6:45am as he kisses you goodbye.

“You, you betrayed me,” you slurred as you made your way to your bedroom. He takes the phone off his ear to look at the Caller ID again, squinting at the bright light. “(Y/N)? Are you okay?” Dom jolted at your voice, the concern in his voice ever so clear, afraid that you might not be okay.

“And I know that you'll never feel sorry for the way I hurt,” your speech slows down with every syllable, ignoring his question. The sound of his breath tickles your ear, making you squirm a little. On the other line, there he was, awake from his sleep, listening silently to your drunken voice, his heart breaking all over again. “(Y/N), have you been drinking?” he asks, though he knows the answer.

“You talked to her when we were together,” finally throwing the accusation you never would’ve said to his face. He finally put together why you were not yourself towards the end of the relationship, you were convinced he was cheating on you. “I never—it has always been you, only you,” you ignore him. “I promise”, he whispers softly, trying to convince you with what’s left of his heart. He wants you to believe him so badly, but he doesn't know what else to say. Pain revisits him each time he tries to convince you that you’re the only one he’s ever been in love with.

“Loved you at your worst, but that didn't matter,” you laugh humourlessly, remembering all the times you wanted to be assured, to be convinced that you were the only one, but his actions suggest otherwise and your paranoia ate you alive. He didn't fight for you even when it was the last straw.

“You gave me your word,” alluding to each time he would tell you that no one else compares to you, each time he made promises about your future together. “It took you two weeks to go off and date her”, you accuse him. “I’m not with anyone,” he says under his breath, knowing you’re too drunk to remember what he says.

“(Y/N)?” Dom asks when he couldn’t hear anything from your end. “Please, can we talk, I—“ “God, I wish that you had thought this through,” you cut him off, your eyes getting heavier by the second, “before I went and fell in love with you”.

There it was. The sentence that ripped him to shreds. The idea that you might have regretted him, regretted being in love with him broke him to bits. He hadn’t realised the damage he’d done during your relationship, and what he did after your break up was unnecessary. He knew what it would look like, to be seen out with her. But he did it anyway to hurt you.

After consuming way too much alcohol, your body feels it’s full effect as your phone slips from your hand and you cave into your tired body.

He hears a loud thump on the other line.

“(Y/N)? Are you there? I—I still love you, can you hear me?”

Line’s dead.

Guess you didn't cheat, but you're still a traitor.

#dominic calvert lewin #dominic calvert lewin imagine #dominic calvert lewin imagines #football imagine #dclsbaby

[lichfucker]

i would love to hear about why all of the ted lasso characters would fail survivor but especially rebecca

hhh ALL of them... okay the vast majority of the players can be explained away with just "physical prowess enough to make them a threat in individual challenges but dumb as bricks and would not be able to strategize themselves out of a bad spot"

this is abt to get long lmao so I'm putting individual ppl under the cut

nate is the most obvious first boot I honestly feel bad about it. bumbling, socially awkward, has NO idea how to assert himself without being an asshole about it (in the rare instances when he does assert himself at all), and even if he's smart enough to be a great strategist (which he absolutely IS), he can't convey it well enough to convince his tribe to overlook his (probable) lack of challenge ability. most of the time, people don't want to draw harsh lines in the sand on the very first vote so they can pretend everyone's getting along and still friends, so nate would be a sort of freebie vote that it'd be easy to agree on.

beard is too much of a follower. what ted says to dr sharon abt him is, "that man has had many lives, many masters." he's very comfortable being led by people with stronger personalities, and even when he disagrees with their calls he will still execute them like a perfect little lackey. the thing about beard is that I think he'd go VERY far in a season of survivor! I think he could EASILY make it all the way to the end! but I just don't think he can WIN. he's genius-level intelligent and SO strategically savvy, but more than that he is fiercely loyal. he'll attach himself to the right person (or the wrong person, as it were), and even if he is whispering in that person's ear all the way through, he would be TOO content to let them take all the credit, he wouldn't push back against them if they disagree with his plans and make a lesser move instead (the whole beginning of 'beard after hours' is him berating himself for not standing up and making the hard calls even when he knew they'd be better), he wouldn't turn around and slit that person's throat at the end to further his own game, and he would make himself socially impenetrable to everyone else. nobody could get close to him, nobody could like or understand him, he'd probably be seen as good collateral if the opposition couldn't strike directly at whomever beard works with, and if he DOES make it to final tribal, I think he'd have a very difficult time convincing the jury that he deserves the credit and the limelight. he wants to win, I just don't think he believes he deserves to.

ted and roy actually would have the exact same problem, which is "physically and strategically competent, but so FUCKING ANNOYING to live with that they get booted for the sake of tribal quality of life." roy would isolate himself socially with his aggression, and ted...

ted is the antithesis of what a "good survivor player" ought to be, which I actually think could work to his advantage in a number of ways? like I think more typical players would find him incredibly unpredictable because he's sharp enough to see what the best moves are, but generous and self-sacrificing enough not to make them. like, there's a reason he's a coach and not a player. there's a reason he says that he doesn't measure success in wins and losses. if he could survive the first few votes, his social game would be AMAZING-- the entire first season of the show is about him wearing rebecca down through the sheer magnitude of his friendship! lesser survivor players would be so endeared to him that they couldn't fathom voting him off, but they're the ones who are getting picked off in his stead. moderately savvy survivor players would not trust a single word out of ted lasso's mouth; there's no fucking way a man can be this kind and this sincere, not on survivor, it's just not possible, he must be plotting something MASSIVE, we have to strike first before he gets his chance. and the truly brilliant survivor players would realize that he IS genuine, he IS sincere, he IS loyal and giving to his core, and that's DANGEROUS. you can't let someone like that make it to the end or they'll take your million dollars. best to shut it down at the jump.

and above all that, I just think that ted... ted would thrive in the pre-merge, in the tribal portion of the game, he's SO team-oriented, but post-merge, in the individual game... perhaps if he had a solid alliance he could also feel that way about, then it might suit his temperament, but ultimately I think he just. wouldn't want it badly enough. I just think the significant majority of people would be vastly more self-interested than ted would be, so they'd take the shot first.

higgins is an interesting midpoint between all three of nate, beard, and ted, in that he's a henchman through and through even when he disagrees with his boss, he's a pushover who'd be seen as a liability in physical challenges in the early game, and he's off-puttingly friendly and polite to the point that nobody would trust that he's being sincere even though he absolutely is. early boot, maybe second or third.

maybe it's just because I've got cook islands on the brain, but jamie (esp season 1 jamie but like. season 2 as well lmao) would play A LOT like early ozzy. an arrogant wonder-boy who's good at everything (did you know there's literally a survivor casting archetype called the "amazing ace"?), with a heart-wrenching underdog story (playing for richmond, that is), an absolute beast in challenges, a huge threat but always immune, he'd win his way to the end but ultimately be beaten out in final tribal by someone smart enough to have dragged him along as their meat shield the whole game.

and as for rebecca... g-d. this one I think hurts me the most because she has everything going for her, she doesn't have a single one of the problems I've listed for anyone else, but I do genuinely believe that rebecca still loses. she's strong and she's smart and she's assertive and she's ruthless and she's sociable and she's a great liar and she's ambitious and she's ADAPTIBLE (she immediately bounces back after not getting the sun to run the photo of ted and keeley and comes up with an alternate plan that will still serve her own endgame, and by g-d being able to roll with the punches and change course is the single most important thing a survivor player can do), but rebecca still loses.

even if we set aside the fact that survivor on the whole is not particularly kind to women over 40... season 1 rebecca, especially early season 1 rebecca, is spite-motivated to the point of self-destruction. she will set her sights on one target and she will be relentless in her effort to get that person out and it'll make her so myopic that she won't see her own end coming immediately afterwards. nobody on that tribe wants to be her next victim-- better get rid of her once she's proven what she's capable of.

she's also dreadfully insecure in the wake of her divorce and when her polished veneer cracks enough to let it show (how many days of being rained on do we think it'll take for her to slip? my guess is five), some people will see it as the vulnerability that finally allows them to connect with her on a human level, while others will see it as a threatening endgame storyline and an exploitable weakness.

there are some juries, particularly old-school juries, that wouldn't vote for her in the end purely based on the fact that a million dollars is just a drop in the bucket to a woman like rebecca mannion welton. that would be a real shame, and a disservice to the game she would have had to play just to make it that far.

what's more likely than that, though, in my opinion, is that rebecca... loses the drive to win. I think that somewhere along the way survivor stops being a game that she is playing, stops being a competition, and instead becomes a journey of personal growth through adversity. I think she, like ted, stops measuring her success in wins and losses. I think she proves herself more capable and resilient than she ever thought she could be, and that is worth more to her than the money or the title of sole survivor, and she stops fighting for it. and maybe the jury admires that, and gives it to her anyway, rewards her transformation. or maybe they don't. maybe they view it as a concession, a forfeit. but I'm not certain that that moment of revelation happens at the final tribal council. I think it happens just before. I think it happens after the final immunity challenge, and she tearfully and valiantly allows herself to be voted out just inches from the finish line. I think rebecca is the fallen angel of the season, and she goes off to the jury with her head held high, which is nice, and so very noble of her, and the fans would be DYING to have her play again but she wouldn't, because she'll have gotten everything she could have wanted out of her survivor experience, and she doesn't need the crown on top of it.

I think rebecca COULD win. she just WON'T.

#jockjamsandjellies #thanks jack #bluh bluh #honestly I'm a little tipsy and this hurt me to write #rebecca's arc in the show of her becoming a better person is literally an arc of her becoming a worse survivor player #and that's not to say that it's impossible for someone who's kind and honest and open-hearted to win survivor!! #bc plenty of those people have! #it's just that... I think she'd end up pulling a rafe in guatemala and valiantly falling on the sword right at the end for NO REASON #when victory was otherwise all but guaranteed! #also I didn't mention ted's panic attacks at all because I do not believe they would matter lmao I've seen multiple seasons #where people had panic attacks during challenges that they weren't even participating in #and then those people made it all the way to final tribal and one of them even won #survivor #ted lasso

[jensenreleasethetapes]

“i wish i knew how to quit you”

based on a shitpost i took too seriously, and the fact that movie nights are canon...

Dean remembers the first time he watched this movie. 

It was one day that Sam was out, on a date out of all things, and Dean didn’t feel up to going to a bar. He went to a small dvd rental place near the motel they were staying at, looking for some b horror movie. He strolled the aisles when he saw Brokeback Mountain on the shelves. He was curious, the reason unknown to him at the time. He had heard about it, mostly second-hand jokes about the gay cowboy movie, but not much else. He snatched the movie, and headed back to the horror section, grabbing indiscriminately for another, quickly covering the other movie in his hand. He walked up to the counter, and paid, all the while a strange buzzing under his skin. The cashier, a teen who looked utterly bored, routinely scanned the movie and charged his card. Dean opened his mouth, and tried to think of something to excuse the purchase, but came up short. He then closed his mouth, and tried not to make eye contact. He left the store, and never set foot back in the place. Him and sam would be out of town soon, they had bigger things to worry about than overdue dvd fees. 

Later, Dean was drunk in his motel bed, crying with Ennis as he gripped Jack's jacket. He was sobbing at the show of love, the unconditional love they showed each other, and kept showing, against all things. It was a movie that stuck to his ribs for years to come, but why would only dawn on him later. Dean bristled at jokes about the movie for years after, and he kept the dvd in his travel bag since...

Which is how it ended up on the bunker shelves, next to other cowboy flicks he had “collected” from dvd stores over the years. And how Cas ended up picking it and putting it in the player for the two of them to watch. 

Remembering all that, almost 12 years ago at this point, it seems like forever ago, It seems especially far now, especially compared to where he is now. He and Cas are sitting next to each other on a couch, after Cas said yes to another one of Dean’s movie nights. They had been on a cowboy binge, getting through the greatest of the westerns, which were chosen at Dean’s discretion. They already watched one movie tonight, but Dean isn’t ready to go to bed yet. He isn’t ready to end this night, since they get them so rarely. He enjoys spending time like this with Cas. 

Cas, who is sitting comfortably in some pajamas he’s borrowed (“You know comfort is not of great importance to me, Dean” “Yeah but it’s weird if I’m the only one in sweats”). The glow of the tv shines on his face. His brows are usually furrowed, like he’s studying important information for a test from Dean later. But sometimes, his face breaks into a smile at a joke, or he gets angry at the characters on screen, and he gets exasperated at the character’s actions. Dean has seen these movies so many times, he can stand to watch Cas get swept up in the emotion. 

After the first one, Cas isn’t ready to take off just yet either, lingering in an odd way. He looks over expectantly, waiting with words behind his lips. At their mutual reluctance, and his own reluctance to move from the comfortable couch, Dean decides to be generous and let Cas pick the next one, as long as it fits the theme. Cas returns with a dvd, and pops it in the player, then returns to the couch. 

Once Dean sees the opening sequence, his stomach tightens. After everything he’d gone through, the discovery and realizations about himself, and after meeting Cas, he knows he’s done for. This movie had got him when he didn’t fully understand the depth of love and devotion, and now that he knows, and the source of that knowledge is sitting right next to him, he’s done for. 

He settles in, not bothering to pick a fight with Cas about how this is technically not a “western”. 

His first tears fall at Jack’s “I wish I knew how to quit you”, because god did he wish he knew. Cas glances up at Dean's sniffle, his own eyes not dry, and he reaches across to Dean’s shoulder. Dean nods at the contact, his hand swiping his tears away. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't know that this one would make you cry,” Cas apologizes genuinely, his voice near a whisper. 

“No, it’s okay,” Dean brushes him off, and Cas drops his gaze. “I could’ve stopped it if I didn't want to watch it,” Dean replies. His eyes return to the screen, all the while still registering the weight of Cas’ touch. 

The rest of the movie brings more tears, and after the second burst, Cas moves closer to Dean, a reassuring line at his side. Cas’ crossed legs leaves his knees to overlap Dean’s thigh. It's exhilarating and comforting simultaneously, and Dean lets himself get swept up in the romance, and the tragedy of the movie. He doesn’t hold his pain back, nor his sobs. He knows he’s safe to cry with Cas, safe to feel with Cas. 

The end slaughters them both, sobbing at the tragedy of jack and ennis’ love story. He knows, too well, the pain of letting something good slip away because of fear, and the danger associated. He knows the self hatred, the disbelief that someone could love him back, despite all he’s done, so unconditionally. Hell, he’s sobbed into a coat on occasion too. 

Dean tries to collect himself multiple times as the credits roll, but each time brings more tears. He sighs, trying to regain control of his breath, but echoes of the characters ring in his brain, and he cries again. 

Cas doesn’t leave. No, he remains close to Dean’s side, rubbing his back, silent tears falling down his own face. 

Dean leans into Cas, deeper into the comfort of him. He feels the tears soaking into the borrowed shirt, growing damp as the time passes between them. And Cas lets him, welcomes him there. 

The crying subsides, and Dean and Cas are left on the couch together, the glow of the silent tv blanketing them. 

“I think that was my favorite one yet,” Cas remarks, his voice thick from the tears shed. Dean smiles and lets out a small laugh. He sits up to look into cas’ eyes, a little puffy and red from the tears. 

“The first one to make you cry? That’s your favorite?” Dean questions, not following his logic. 

“I guess I didn’t know movies could do that,” Cas looks off, contemplating his thoughts and feelings, trying to fit them into the right words. “You tend to pick action movies with men fighting each other, so I just thought that that was a movie. Shallow, black and white morals, but fun. I didn’t know they could make you feel like this.” 

“Yeah, I guess I just don’t watch many movies that are like this one. Sorry-” Dean offers.  

“I just- I didn’t know they could be like that,” Cas interrupts. “I didn’t know movies could be honest, could show love and fear and loss like that. It’s all heightened of course, as is expected of the medium, but isn’t that how love and fear and loss feel?” His eyes flicker around, his hand in a fist, as if reliving his own experiences. “Interactions have more weight, every touch feels cosmic, stakes feel more punishing, but some things shrink, like how the scale of your world zeros onto one person.” Cas’ impassioned cadence slows at the end of his speech, each word hitting harder than the last. 

Dean is caught off guard by Cas’ analysis of the movie. Usually he gets a smile and a nod, and if he’s lucky, a friendly debate on the morals of the villains and heroes. Dean is still processing his words and reaction in the brief silence, but Cas starts up again. 

“It’s about the attachment associated with love. The wanting of only one person that no other can fill. It’s about making the most of your meetings, wringing out every second of your time together,  and cherishing it, however brief. It’s about love despite the circumstances, despite what everyone says, maybe even in spite of everything. It’s about loving, even if you are not able to have them, and the tragedy in and of itself, that is falling.” Cas is wrapped up in his own words, and as he finishes, it seems like the meaning of his own words have dawned on him. He looks bashful, almost like he admitted too much. 

Dean is awestruck, and he lets Cas’ words wash over him. Deciding not to let Cas hang out to dry, he gathers himself. If Cas is pushing himself over the edge, Dean is going to follow him. 

“I think,” Dean starts, “it’s also about missing someone, losing them each time they leave, not knowing when you’d see them next. It’s about them leaving permanently, and you gripping on to whatever they left you, and the pain with letting them slip away once again.” Dean’s voice cracks, knowing it has given him away. He feels Cas’ gaze on him, but pushes forward nonetheless.

“It’s about not believing someone would love you back, because why you? And them loving you so unconditionally, so fiercely, and not being able to accept that love, because it’s so foreign. It’s about resigning that person to an awful fate because of you. Because you pushed him away, one too many times, because you thought it was too much, he was too good for you. You don’t deserve him, he’s too giving, too loving, too wonderful for someone dirty and fucked up like you-“ 

Cas cups Dean’s jaw and kisses him silent at his last words. The tears Dean was hiding behind his words fall, as he pushes back to Cas. They hold each other there, pouring more love and acceptance through the kiss. It’s slow, tender, and beautiful, an antithesis to the rushed kisses on screen. 

Cas pulls back first, but makes sure to keep Dean’s eyes to his own. 

“You deserve everything, Dean. You pushed away, but you came looking so many times too. Stop carrying the guilt for these things. It’s the past, and it’s done. We’re here aren’t we?”

“But Cas-“ Dean starts, but his mouth is covered by a kiss again. 

“You held on, you kept me with you, when you had every reason not too. And that’s why i’m back here, we’re here.” Cas pleads. 

“I’m sorry, Cas-“ 

“I’m not. Everything that happened? It all led us here, so can I please have this?” 

Dean nods, and kisses Cas again. You can have for as long as you want, I love you I love you I love you…

~~~~

Thanks for reading!

#deancas #destiel #destiel first kiss #destiel fic #destiel ficlet #destiel drabbles #my writing #brokeback mountain

[agent-jones]

Why Gwen Hate Is Rooted In Misogyny And How The Premise Of Torchwood Is Often Ignored In Order To Hate On Her

Hello, hi. Jacklynn here again to talk your head off about something I feel is important to address when it comes to Torchwood and its fandom. Now, you’ve seen me post my defence of her and her actions [ not condoning, always remember this ] but, this is more on why the hate she receives is absolutely rooted in misogyny whether you want to believe it is or not, especially when talking about the portrayal and reception of women over the years in media [ and, frankly, in society ] as well as the fact that Torchwood’s very premise explains why Gwen should not be so vitriolically hated by the fans.

First, let’s talk about one reason she’s hated: her personality. Oh. This one is just blatant. I’ve seen her called both boring AND bitchy. The first one is obvious to address and that’s the bitchy one. Women who are seen as strong and independent are often labelled as bitchy, while men who act in the same manner are respected and good leaders. This is just simply based on the patriarchy we live in, a woman must be docile and and quiet and if she’s stands for something she believes in, suddenly she’s considered loud and angry and a bitch. How many times have we heard those words thrown at feminists for standing up for women? And boring? If a woman isn’t shown to be fun all the time and up for anything [ see the movie Yes, Man and Zooey’s character ] she’s considered boring. This isn’t just Gwen, this has always been the world women are forced to live in: either you’re a slut or you’re a prude, you’re a bitch or you’re just boring. Comments like that about Gwen’s personality are just downright rooted in the everyday sexism women face in society.

Second, the double standard within the Torchwood fandom when it comes to Gwen’s affair. Cheating on Rhys is the number one reason I always see for Gwen hate. And you know what? It’s absolutely valid to criticise her on how she treated Rhys. It was selfish and she made bad decisions. But, you know what’s never addressed? The fact that Owen knew exactly what he was doing when he was tempting Gwen away from Rhys, purposefully trying to get her to cheat on him. He was very open about the fact that he “tortures people in happy relationships” because he wants to. But, he’s given a free pass for his actions. Why? Had the roles been reversed and Owen’s character was a woman, and Gwen’s a man, Owen’s character would have been considered a ‘homewrecking slut’ who didn’t care about the fact that the man she went after was in a relationship and would have been labelled as such and would have been crucified by the fandom as Gwen was for cheating.

Why? Why is Owen excused for his actions? He was far from innocent. Yes, it is ultimately Gwen’s relationahip, but it takes two to tango. Owen should be disliked just as much for purposefully intending to cause harm to Rhys and not caring for a single moment about the consequences of his actions.

Jack is also given a free pass when it comes to the Gwack stuff. I never understood why people claim that Gwen ‘threw herself at Jack’ when almost every scene which implied Gwack, Jack is the one making moves. He’s the one who does the sexy gun lesson, he’s the one who corners her in the cells and does version two of ‘I came back for you,’ he’s the one sending longing glances at her as she’s kissing Rhys. And yes, these things are returned. But, once again Jack is given a free pass when he knows Gwen is in a relationship and yet does not have the decency to honour that either.

So are we seeing the pattern when it comes to the biggest reason Gwen is hated? The men are given free passes and loved while the woman is given all the blame. Each one made their choices and none of them were good. So why does the fandom only punish the woman?

Also, I would like to quickly address that she also gets hate for ‘getting in the way of Jack and Ianto’ which A. Is absolutely untrue, she never once tries to get Jack to choose her over Ianto, never acts like it’s a competition, is never once anything but sweet to Ianto. She is supportive of them and is never canonically attempting to get between them. B. Is pretty damn close to fetishism and blaming women for ‘getting in the way of your m/m ship’ needs to be re-examined.

Now, as I mentioned above, the premise of the show is often ignored in order to hate on Gwen. RTD has stated that Torchwood is about flawed and real human beings trying to save the world. They are not outright heroes, and they never claim to be. They are doing their best but they are all still human.

Human beings make mistakes. Human beings have emotional reactions that are irrational. Human beings do bad things for selfish reasons. Human beings can be inherently good people who made bad decisions and they can also be inherently bad people who do good things some times. Human beings are flawed and that’s the point of the show.

Gwen was not written to be the antithesis to this. She was written as an outsider coming into this new world and quickly learning how it changes you and affects you and can even bring our your more human traits. She was simply brought in to bring a new perspective for the team, not because she’s better than them.

But, so often this premise of real human beings trying to save the world and do what they can is ignored in order to hate Gwen. She’s just as flawed as everyone else, she’s not more flawed or any worse than anyone else on the team. But, their flaws are either ignored or brushed off in order to love them.

Ianto is the fandom golden child. I get it. I adore him with my whole heart. But, he manipulated everyone on the team, emotionally manipulated Jack, used the team in order to do what he had to to save Lisa. He got innocent people killed. He’s been shown to resort to killing when it felt needed. He has a dark side and he is not without his own flaws. He betrayed Jack twice and then went behind his back again in Adrift. He is not perfect. He is good, but he is human and makes mistakes.

Owen is a self-proclaimed twat who spends the entirety of series one purposefully trying to get Gwen to cheat on her boyfriend, being an absolute dick to Tosh. Not to mention he full on date r**** two people in the first episode. He also betrays Jack and nearly ends the world trying to do what he thought was right. Owen makes mistakes. He does really fucked up shit, but that’s what Torchwood is isn’t it? He’s fucked up but he does what he can to save the world. We love him for his growth and don’t let his mistakes make him hated by the fandom.

Tosh isn’t perfect either. She invaded her teammates’ inner most private thoughts and brought an alien into Torchwood. Yes, she was manipulated into it, but she listened in on Gwen and Owen because she was jealous. Jealousy and pettiness are very much shown within Tosh’s character. From the comments she makes to Gwen about getting her feet under the table, to invading their privacy to her tension about Martha. Tosh made mistakes and she has some not very nice qualities to her personality. But, we love her because she’s Torchwood and she’s good and we can forgive her mistakes because she’s human.

Jack lived a conman’s life. He’s resorted to killing before asking questions, he’s physically tortured peopl. Jack refused to let his team know a single thing about him and kept them in the dark when the truth could have helped everyone. He abandoned them and for a long time was only using Torchwood as a way to wait for the Doctor to come back and he would leave. He makes decisions that other people wouldn’t, he tells Gwen to keep a hold of her life with Rhys but would have been the first in line to sleep with her had she asked him to. But, we love Jack because he is Jack Harkness and he cares and he does so much to save the world and takes so much weight on his shoulders. He is a flawed human being doing what he can to do good and we forgive him because we know he’s trying.

The other team members get the forgiveness of the premise of the show, and yet Gwen doesn’t. Why? She’s just as much part of the team and while she was written to be the protagonist and main character, the premise of the show still extends to her. So, why is she hated for falling under that same flawed human being saving the world umbrella that the rest of the team is protected by?

Anyway, I’m sure there’s more I could say on the matter. But, honestly what this boils down to is that I understand the other characters deserved more storylines and air time, what they gave Gwen wasn’t used well because the writers didn’t treat her well either.

But the constant need to tear Gwen down in order to love the other characters is absolutely unnecessary.

#Gwen Cooper #Torchwood #ianto jones #jack harkness #owen harper #toshiko sato #; I haven’t much left to say in the tags but there’s that

[jetaime-jespere]

Prompt #200/105

Aaron never expected to run into his boss’s daughter in a dive bar.

But then again, Emily Prentiss was never exactly predictable.

It’s a Tuesday, the first night off he’s had in almost ten days. He’s learned quickly that working for an Ambassador is glamorous in name only. In practice, it’s typically uneventful, sometimes almost mind-numbing and boring. But it’s a foot in the door, the salary better than what he was making at his last position, and for the time being, he has to ride it out. Bide his time, climb the ladder until something better comes along.

But after ten days of work, he’s over it. Aaron expected he’d get a decent buzz when he slipped through the doors of the smoky bar alone, after yet one more fight with Haley. Their marriage has morphed into one cyclical argument, centered around a myriad of topics ranging from money and mortgages to kids and intimacy. It’s anyone’s guess what the topic of the day will be. Tonight, money was the lucky winner. Tomorrow, something else entirely.

So, if there is anyone in need of a night off, it’s Aaron. He drinks a beer in a record amount of time and then milks one more, feeling the effects of the alcohol start to kick in as he contemplates ordering a third.

What he didn’t expect was to see a slightly familiar face on one of the stools a few feet away from his own.

Aaron has seen her around before - she’s hard to miss. Emily, the Ambassador’s college-aged daughter, is the exact antithesis of her ridiculously uptight mother, and something tells him she takes great pride in that. He knows little about her, just that she’s a student at Yale with the mouth of a sailor. Around the mansion, she’s typically aloof, her face perpetually shielded by a pair of dark sunglasses that he suspects are to conceal a hangover or the aftereffects of an all nighter. She seems to always have an agenda, somewhere to be, and she doesn’t even seem to realize he exists. She appears to have time for no one, but Aaron suspects her flippant demeanor is a ruse for something else entirely. Insecurity, perhaps?

Without the sunglasses hiding her face, he gets a chance to steal a few glances from his own spot at the bar. She’s wearing a lot of makeup, clutching a drink in her hand. Emily nervously tucks her hair behind her ears every few minutes, glancing over her shoulder in what he calculates to be fifty-second increments. She’s looking for someone. Or waiting for someone. Either way, she looks nervous. So Aaron orders another drink - this will be his last - and figures it’s not worth making his presence known. Technically, he isn’t supposed to fraternize with the Ambassador or her family outside of work, anyway. A conflict of interest, they say. But something about seeing her there tells him he should stay. He subtly thanks the bartender and keeps her in his peripheral vision, distracting himself with a mindless game on the TV.

There’s a hesitant tap on his shoulder a few moments later, and when he lifts his eyes from television he’s not even watching, he’s almost surprised to see her on the stool next to him.

Emily.

“Excuse me,” she says in a low voice, the concept of personal space all but lost on her. She’s almost pressing herself right against him, as if they’ve been doing this for years, and something tells him it’s not just because the bar is crowded. “But you seem like a guy who could help me out.” She smiles, and up close like this he can’t help but think she’s stunning.

Not that he expected otherwise. “I beg your pardon?” He takes a quick sip of his beer, and then another. Liquid courage, he supposes.

“I could really use a favor,” Emily continues, batting her long eyelashes. Clearly she has no idea who he is, and Aaron has to remind himself they’ve never formally met before. He’s only ever seen her from somewhat of a distance, and of course, heard the whisperings from the other agents. He’s never much believed in rumors, though.  

Aaron opens his mouth, ready to identify himself because something tells him this could go downhill very quickly before she cuts in, throwing nervous eyes to the door once again. “What are you -”

“Please pretend to be my boyfriend.”

He nearly knocks the beer bottle over, blinking as if he didn’t hear her correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

Emily smiles apologetically, talking just a little faster than before, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I know it sounds ridiculous. I’m here by myself, and for the last half hour, there’s this guy who won’t leave me alone. I told him my boyfriend is coming but -” she glances at her feet, her cheeks flushing a shade of pink. “I don’t have a boyfriend, and he’s persistent. I’m pretty sure he spiked that drink too.”

Aaron sees the untouched drink by her place at the bar, next to the one she just finished. Just what is she doing in bars like this, by herself, at night? Where did this guy come from? Has the bartender not noticed? He has questions, but there isn't much time for answers. “Where is he?”

“Outside smoking.”

Something else crosses his mind. “I’ve been sitting here all night. You don’t think he’s already seen me?”

“He’s had his back to you the whole time. Plus,” Emily points toward the door. “The people next to us just got up and left. I highly doubt he saw you.”

Aaron wants to ask why she didn’t just get the hell up and leave with them, but her fingers tighten around his jacket sleeve, her eyes never leaving the wall of liquor bottles on the bar. “He’s coming back. At least pretend you like me, okay?”

There’s the heavy drag of shoes on the ground, a heavy odor of smoke and cigarettes permeating the air behind them. He feels Emily flinch when a large hand clamps down on her shoulder. “You’re still here” the guy leers, getting just a little too close. But then he spots Aaron, immediately pulling his hand away, his face twisting into a scowl. “So your boyfriend finally decided to show up.”

“Oh. Hi, Drew.” Emily tosses back lightly, throwing her arm around Aaron’s shoulders, leaving a kiss on his cheek. He gets a whiff of her perfume when her lips brush his skin, and for a brief moment, his mind blurs. Focus, he tells himself. “Traffic, you know.”

“You mean this is your boyfriend?” The guy, Drew, asks in disbelief, as if he doesn’t fully believe Emily. He gives Aaron a poorly concealed once-over, one that holds nothing but judgement.

“This is him,” Emily chirps, and for good measure, runs a hand through Aaron’s hair adoringly. Focus, he reminds himself. But she’s good at this, Aaron observes, wondering if she’s done this before. “You want something to eat, babe?” She reaches for a bar menu, pretending to study it.

“I’m starving,” Aaron says, hoping it’s convincing, reaching for her hand to prove a point. He squeezes her fingers, conveying the notion he’ll play along as long as she needs him to. “Whatever we got last time we were here was good.”

Emily nods approvingly, smiling sweetly at Drew with a wave of her hand. It’s a dismissal in the clearest sense. “It was great meeting you, Drew. Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too,” he grumbles, clearly not convinced and undoubtedly annoyed at Aaron’s sudden presence next to her. “I guess I’ll see you around, Emily.” He stalks off, his footsteps heavy, disappearing into the crowd.

“Thank you” Emily says with relief once he’s fully out of earshot, but Aaron notices she doesn’t move her chair away from him. “Persistent little fuck, wasn’t he?”

“Definitely.” he twists a straw wrapper in his fingers as she orders another drink, draping one long leg over the other. His eyes linger on her legs for a split second too long. He shouldn’t be this close to her, let alone have drinks with her. Yeah, this could be bad if it got out. Aaron can only imagine the reactions of his coworkers if they found out.

“So, what’s your name?” Emily asks quickly, smoothing her hair over a shoulder, visibly relaxing in front of him as she lifts the glass to her lips. “I never did ask you, did I?”

“Hotchner,” he says out of habit, only realizing his mistake when she laughs.

“Are you some kind of cop or something? Your first name, genius. You’re my boyfriend, remember?” Emily gives a slight roll of her eyes. “We should probably be on a first name basis.”

That gets a laugh from him, too. “My first name is Aaron.”

“Mine’s Emily,” she says, narrowing her eyes and studying his face carefully, as if she’s trying to place him. “You look familiar to me for some reason.”

“I know what your name is.”

Her eyebrows nearly disappear into her hairline.

“I work for your mother,” Aaron says softly, wondering if it’s the right move to make. But it’s summer; she’ll be around for the next several weeks, and if they don’t clear the air now, things could get awkward the next time their paths cross. He probably shouldn’t mention that her reputation precedes her, and he fumbles for what to say next.

Emily hand flies to her mouth, eyes widening as she processes his words. “You mean you  - you’re one of the security agents. That’s where I know you from.” She places him quickly, suddenly looking embarrassed and utterly self-conscious. “Fuck.”

“I only started last month,” Aaron offers, sensing her discomfort, yet not quite ready for her to get up and leave. “I haven’t been around very long.”  

“Yet you knew who I was,” she says suspiciously.

“You’re hard to miss.” He wants to bring up the time he witnessed the day she got home from Yale a few weeks ago, surrounded by mountains of luggage in the driveway. Her mother had been less than thrilled, and it started quite the argument between the two of them that could be heard from nearly anywhere on the front grounds.

Emily laughs loudly this time, her head tilting back with effort. “I guess I’m doing something right, then.”

He resists the urge to push the stray piece of hair from her face. Don’t even think about it, he tells himself. “Definitely.”  

“My mother is all about appearances,” she quips. “But I like to keep things interesting.”

“We could use a little bit of that around there for sure.”

They slip into a witty banter that comes easily to her; he tries to keep up with her endlessly sharp wit. Emily watches him from the corner of her eye, studying him casually as they drink. And while she’s still a bit guarded, there’s something about the way her walls slowly peel back that tell him he’s doing something correctly.

“How about a shot?” she asks out of the blue, her eyes suddenly glittering. “If you’re up for the challenge.”

Aaron briefly considers the fact that taking shots with his boss’s daughter definitely isn’t the best idea he’s ever had. He isn’t even certain she’s old enough to be drinking. But it’s too late because Emily has already flagged the bartender down with a determined wave.  

“Two tequila shots, please,” she says sweetly, even as she tosses a devious wink in his direction. “Consider it a thank you for your services tonight.”

He swallows, fully aware Emily could most likely drink him under the table and probably will.

“Let me guess.” She slides one of the small glasses towards him with a devious grin on her face. “You don’t drink very often.”

“Got me there,” Aaron retorts dryly. He can’t remember the last time he and Haley spent a night out at a bar.

He’s about to make her a deal - the next round is on him - when he realizes she isn’t looking at him anymore. Instead, her eyes are locked on the thin gold band on his left hand.

“I didn’t realize you were married.”

*I have to thank the wonderful @cmhotchniss-blog for a little inspiration with this one! 😘

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron x emily #prompts #I love them in dive bars #I love them wherever #young hotchniss gets me #I cried because its over so thats how things are going over here #wsne vibes for sure

[darthspideys]

antithesis // one

din djarin x jedi! reader 

summary: You expected to find another of yoda’s species, much less under the protection of a particularly stubborn mandalorian. Little do you know its that discovery that will change life as you know it, and put all three of you in danger you never saw coming. 

words: ~2k 

a/n: I really can’t believe that I'm finally posting this! I started this story more than a month ago, and I have been editing it and editing and editing which is not something that I normally do. I love this story, and I love this reader, and this story represents so much for me in terms of improving on my writing. Anyways welcome to the ride, hope you have fun :) 

disclaimer: I h8 baby yoda and it shows 

Disturbances in the force are easy enough to sense now. In the age of the empire, with Inquisitors, Darth Vader and The Emperor himself running around there was nothing but disturbance, a constant feeling of dread for those on the side of the light like any one of those sith could appear from around the next corner. Four years after the fall of the empire, things are calmer. It seems that the force is in balance, now that the emperor is dead though you know that since there are two jedi there have to be two sith somewhere else in the galaxy. 

There’s always the threat of some other powerful sith making its way out from the shadows, finally deciding to finish what Palpatine started. So when Luke senses a disturbance in the force on Tatooine, something slicing through the calm waves of power, the two of you are a little bit nervous about what that could be. You feel it too, once he mentions it, it’s so easy for you to brush past those kinds of feelings because you're so used to them. However when you focus in, you feel it too, something is off. 

You look back at Luke, who is staring down at his feet, not at the holo projector in front of the two of you and realize that whatever is happening on Tatooine isn’t the only thing that's off. You sense the uncertainty that he feels, and it confuses you, because it's not like the two of you havent been through this before. You tilt your head to the side, “Is there something I’m not seeing?” He doesn’t respond right away, “You seem uncertain.” 

“I’m not-” He doesn’t know what to say, “It’s not about this exactly.” 

You put your hand on his arm trying to pull him away from his thoughts, “Then what is it about?” 

He turns to you, and you suddenly realize how close the two of you are. He leans in, whatever it is he wants to say, he doesn’t want anyone else to hear it if they happen to walk in. Not that there’s a high chance of anyone disturbing you, most of the senators are afraid if you to say the least. As it turns out the fact that the Jedi had been absent from the galaxy for the entirety of the empire turned them into more myth than truth. People assumed it had all been somewhat of a legend, that people with glowing light swords and all that power couldn’t have possibly existed. Therefore seeing the two of you glowing light swords and all in the senate building almost everyday made people a little uncomfortable. 

He leans in, “I’m from Tatooine.” 

“I’m aware,” You say, a small smile beginning to form on your face. You think he’s setting up a kind of joke, and that he’s been messing with you this entire time. 

“I haven’t been back since my parents were killed.” 

You nod. He looks sadly at the floor, and you can feel the emotion coming off of him in jagged waves of hurt and a longing of some sort. You don’t ask, because he knows that you can sense it. “I’ll go, okay?” 

“Thank you.” 

You’re still standing there when Leia appears in the doorway, arms crossed. When he sees her, Luke says good luck to you and walks out of the room. Leia saunters down the stairs and stands in front of you with her arms crossed again. The only thing you can think is that she definitely has the disappointed mother look down pat. 

She asks, “What was that?” 

“What was what?” 

“What I just saw between the two of you.” 

“There was nothing, less than nothing. He wants me to go to the desert, what you just witnessed was a punishment.” 

She makes a face, “That is bad.” Then she pauses, “Don’t think that I don’t know what’s going on with you.” 

“Nothing is going on with me, not a single thing. I just hang out here or I’m going to some random planet to make sure nothing untoward is happening, and sometimes I pull out my laser sword and use it to cut down trees or something. That is my life, nothing is going on.” 

She doesn’t believe you and you can tell. You wish she wouldn’t look at you like that, you wish that no one knew about it. “Other than the fact that you're in love with my brother, of course,” She’s laughing at you which makes the whole thing worse somehow. 

“We are not talking about that,” Your voice gets way higher than you mean it too. You cough and try to lower it, “We are never talking about that because I have to go to Tatooine.” And with that you walk out of the room ceremoniously leaving Leia to just shake her head. 

Tatooine is just as terrible as you thought it would be. As soon as you get off your ship, your feet sink down into the sand which sends a chill through your body. It’s the kind of place where you can’t quite get your footing, because the wind is always blowing more sand around everything is always shifting. That and it’s unbearably hot, which is not helped by the sand. It seems to reflect the sun and make it even hotter. You hate it, and you wonder if Luke really meant what he said or if he just hates it here too. 

You give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s him, and the two of you have been through enough for you to assume that he did have a good reason for sending you here alone. You have no idea what that reason could possibly be, but you know it’s something. Ahead of you, you see what you think is a structure sticking out of a nearby cave. You walk forward and sink into the sand as you do, feeling lucky that you were born on a farm. 

As you get closer you see that it is a small structure built into the side of a cave so that it’s bigger. Right when you’re close enough to be seen, the hair on the back of your neck stands straight up and you duck as fast as you can. As soon as you're on the ground, a blaster bolt flies right over your head and you sigh. Whatever this is, there’s something guarding it that does not want to be found. You roll your eyes and try to get to a better position all while spitting sand out of your mouth. This is not going to be as easy as you thought it was. 

Instead of getting back onto your feet you roll to the side where there’s a large rock sticking out of the ground and get behind it. In hindsight, you shouldn’t have been right out into the open when you didn’t know what was ahead of you. Luke would have reminded you of that, if only he were here. 

Before you can finish your thought, a Mandalorian in full armor walks out of the structure and stands at the entrance with a blaster clutched in his hand. “Holy shit,” That shakes you to your core, you thought they were all gone or at least most of them. You duck down behind the rock again, trying not to make a sound. Suddenly you can’t catch your breath and you're panicking not because you're afraid but because of something else. More so than when you first got here, you regret coming and you regret coming alone. 

You climb to the top of the rock and try to peek over again. Normally there would be some kind of strategy involved but you’ve decided that you're just gonna show off a little bit and see what sticks. You jump on top of the rock, which is up higher than you realized and he starts shooting as soon as he sees you. 

You duck every shot and jump off the rock which lands you a few feet away from him. He takes a shot right at the head, and you stop it midair which is part of the showing off strategy. That surprises him, which you expected, the whole blaster bolt hanging in the air is quite something. You let it hang for a minute and then move a few inches to the right and let it go so it crashes into the rock. 

“Hello there,” You say and give a little wave. 

He lunges at you this time, dropping his blaster to the side once he realizes that it’s probably useless. Oh he wants to go hand to hand, you think and it makes you smile. He comes at you with a flurry of easily dodge-able kicks and punches to which you respond by coming back just as hard with your own. You push him back farther and father, not letting up so that he doesn't even have time to think that he could beat you. Soon enough you have him on the ground pinned using the force mostly but a bit of your own body weight. You blow straight hair out of your face and say, “That was fun, now you have something that I need.” 

And as if on cue a small green thing walks out of the opening and stands at your feet. “Holy fuck,” Your eyes widen as you realize that thing looks a lot like Yoda. You can feel it immediately, he is what you're looking for. “You have a little baby-“ 

He takes advantage of the fact that you're distracted and flips you over onto the ground so that he’s the one with the advantage. You curse again, your voice low, because it hurt when you hit the ground, badly enough that you can’t get back up. He looks at you and sighs before grabbing onto your leg and pulling you through the sand and into the hut. “So you're just gonna pull me? You're just gonna pull me through the sand through the disgusting sand, sir-“ when you hit hard ground and your head bounces up, “And now you're gonna drag me against rocks? Little inhumane don’t you think?” 

You can tell he’s glaring at you, even with the helmet as he drops your legs to the ground dramatically. The child stands at his feet watching the entire thing, “How did you find me?” 

“I don’t know if you know this, but that thing-“ Your eyes are fixed on the child, “Is a beacon to anyone who can use the force.” 

“The what?” 

You roll your eyes, “Why does that not surprise me?” He’s genuinely confused, and you can tell, though it's not going to stop you from pushing his buttons as much as you can.“I could explain, if you would just let me up-“ You try and sit up, but he points another blaster in your face. “Or not.” You raise your arms over your head, but he doesn’t seem like he’s getting the message. “Yeah okay this has been fun and all but-“ With one move of your finger the blaster flies out of his hand and against the wall the sound echoing throughout the cave. You take advantage of his confusion, and get to your feet, even though you're a little shaky and there’s a lot of sand in your hair. 

You pull your lightsaber out of its holster, surprised that he hasn’t noticed it there. You light it and hold it right at his throat. His beskar armor can repel lightsaber strikes, you know that but you're not sure he does, or at the very least the throat is open enough for you to kill him if need be. He steps back and raises his own arms in surrender, understanding that he’s beat for the most part. The blade glows bright green, reflecting off his armor barely, and you smile, “We’re gonna play nice now, okay?” 

He realizes something, “Jedi.” 

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fanfic #din djarin imagine #anithesis series #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #hey hellow if this flops I will cry just warning you

[raevenlywrites]

A bit of the Twins

Felt really inspired on this scene, so I thought I'd share. If you remember Lawrence Crane (Bird) and his sarcastic demon, then happy day for you cause here it is again, bothering Bird's sons. Well, "happy" is maybe a bit generous :/

1.6k, angst/trauma memories, dark magic, inherited problems

--

“The cliff is called Lovers’ Last Kiss.”

"How romantic."

A shivering voice came from the darkness, or more specifically, from a patch of darkness that was deeper than the rest, more solid. And vaguely human shaped.

It stepped from the trees but became no less clear, just a shadow extending farther than the tree should be able to cast it. It reminded Orai instantly of how his father's shadow had been Wrong.

"Love has nothing to do with it, my little duckies. Kissing, maybe, but it's the joining that matters, not the emotions or lack thereof."

A wave of revulsion struck Orai and Iaro both, different ends of the same awful moment of their father's history. A girl, chained and struggling, blood and bruises the only things covering her skin. A boy, equally bound and beaten, if that would be more to his taste. And the sour/metallic rage/horror that burned up his throat as the first prickles of magic kissed his skin. He knew that magic, the heady sweet whispering of Cretia's promises of love and devotion--twisted. He had never experienced something so hideous in his life, and he was meant to wield it?

No one said against who, boy.

The voice echoed with the same shivery duality of the too dark shadow's, and both boys broke from the vision/memory with a gasp.

"What the fuck," Orai panted, doubled over on his hands and knees. Spit dribbled from his open mouth, the sickly tang herald of bile yet to come. Beside him, Iaro had not been so lucky. Every bit of dinner came back up and then some.

Damira knelt at Iaro's side, though she kept the shadow in view. She stroked a cool hand over his forehead, brushing away the sick sweat and chasing his hair back.

Khat had instantly put herself between the shadow and the group, a wall of fire hovering midair between them. The flames did nothing to give detail to the dark form.

"Are you alright, Orai?" She called behind her, unwilling to take her eyes from the thing in front of her.

Damira cupped her hands, calling cool water to them as she offered it to Iaro to drink.

"No need to hold onto those nasty memories, my lovelies. Call of your guard mara and I'll eat them back up for you."

If a formless shadow could hold up its hands in a gesture of harmlessness, the one before them did now. It was less seeing and more seeming, and it seemed to be contrite, and a little wistful.

"If I had a prettier way to show you, I would have. But we all have things that Bind us to this world-- well, maybe not this world."

It looked around the dreamscape, shimmering and shifting as it did. The darkness tried to take on a shape, but the two shapes were so opposed they seemed to cancel each other out.

"Its a nice place you've got here. A nice antithesis to its birth. Lovers' First Kiss Island. Cute."

Khat's eyes narrowed, and she called back, "Orai?"

It was Damira who answered. "Draw down the fire, but stand ready."

Clenching her teeth, Khat did so, pulling the fire back into herself, but not fully extinguishing it there.

Orai watched the shadow approach, knowing he knew this spectre from somewhere. It felt like staring into the void, like brushing uncle Naj's power, but different.

"That'd be the Dai bindings, sweets. We all feel a little bit the same, those of us brushed by their evil. Now, may I eat those nasty memories again?"

Orai's eyes widened, as if dilating would make more light bounce off the nothing. But that’s what it was. Not a shadow. An absence of light.

"You're dad's demon."

The being seemed to smile.

"He likes to think so. May I?"

It offered the idea of a hand, and trembling Orai looked to Iaro.

Iaro desperately did not want to scan anymore of the thoughts around him. Not Damira's, not his brother's, and most definitely not the nothing's. But his brother was reaching out. And he would not let his brother down.

He sat up, leaning back into Damira's touch, shielding tighter than he ever had before.

"I don’t want to feel like that ever again."

His voice was low but firm, betraying none of the horror he’d felt.

"I can arrange that," the nothing said.

"I wasn’t talking to you!" Iaro snapped. To Orai, he asked, "Do you trust it?"

Orai was surprised to find the answer was yes.

"Its been with dad for a long time. That's a stupidly long con, if its goal is to harm us now."

Iaro frowned, still not quite ready to unclench.

"Damira? Khat? Any insight?"

Damira smoothed his hair back, feeling her spine straighten as she looked at the darkness.

Her voice low and even, she told Iaro, "If it intended harm to any of us, it would be stupid to intend it on a literal island of our power."

The shadow radiated pleasure and pride.

"Very good, little fish. You should hold onto this one, son of my tether. She's very wise--and very hot."

Iaro grit his teeth so hard they cracked.

"If you speak out of turn one more time I will blast you back into the oblivion from which you first crawled."

Dominion was definitely his brother's gift rather than his own, but Iaro knew his words were not empty. "Son of my tether" was weird, and formal. In it's own way, the nothing was... what? Offering fealty? Trying to sink new tethers? He didn’t care. He would banish this thing and not feel at all bad. He did not like this thing.

Orai reached out, brushing Iaro's arm. Iaro flinched, scales bursting out at the touch. But that action helped soothe him, helped balance out his uncharacteristic display of temper.

"Ia, please. What about dad?"

What about dad indeed. He was mythically old, supposedly. Looking at this darkness, he could believe it. But he also knew if this wretched thing was the only thing keeping his father alive, then better he fall than be sustained by such wrongness.

But it would break Ruby’s heart, and destroy Orai's trust in him. For that, he would let the shadow remain.

But the shadow didn’t need to know that.

"Dad's got plenty of tricks that have nothing to do with this thing." He shot a glare towards the shadow. "Isn’t that right?"

"Exactly so, eijye."

Iaro growled. "Don’t mock me. But thank you for holding your peace. Show us your good faith by taking the memories and nothing more."

"As his father's heir commands."

Orai waited for Iaro to move first. But apparently his suddenly commanding brother was going to watch the shadow for any tricks. Fine then. The sooner Orai was free of this Seeing, the better.

Orai reached for the nothing, and felt a distinct Something, but nothing his mortal mind could name. Still, he was utterly and acutely aware of the thing taking, of a real and quantifiable quality leaving his being. And he was all the better for it. His breath came easier, his body felt lighter, and the air tasted sweeter, almost a tingling quality of delicate starlight kissing his skin. He looked up and saw the stars dancing above him, winking and singing in their endless joy.

"Much better," the shadow murmured. "Such wonderment is more fit this place. I quite approve of your solution for the waste magic, by the way."

"You've said as much," Iaro spit out. More tenderly, he asked his brother, "Rai? You good?"

Orai nodded, feeling the coolness of open tears streaming down his face. He hadn't realized how awful he felt until it was gone. How awful he’d been feeling, for a very, very long time.

He looked to the shadow.

"How far back did you go?"

Iaro's head snapped to the thing, but Orai held out an arm to stop him. The shadow seemed to nod.

"Very shrewd, brother of the heir. I could make the effort to speak plainly, but I have thought in riddles for so long, and it takes much of my attention simply to be here while the father is yet awake."

"Answer the question," Iaro insisted. He didn’t like the nuance of this things phrasing at all.

"Of course. Memory it was named but not memory of the sort called by yellow scales. I lifted the memory of your father's taint, o brother of the heir. And if you so wish it of me, he who speaks with the air of his fathers, I will lift if from you as well."

Iaro was about to order it to speak plainly, but again, Orai bid him hold.

"You mean like a lingering effect, something that ties us to you or the Dai or whatever, inherited from our father's half of the magic."

The shadow nodded. "Just so, my tether's son. It is the greatest thing that connects us, so it has the loudest pull. By your leave, I took the stain of it back into myself, from whence it came. Your magic and person is now free of it."

Iaro gave a soft gasp of understanding.

"That's what drew Damira to me, to us. We shared the magic of Dreaming, and Orai and I shared magic to command the stain."

The shadow clapped in delight. Orai thought he almost saw it do it. Almost.

"Very good, heir of my tether. Well sussed. You have an eye for threads."

Iaro frowned but didn't say anything.

“So what do we do?” Orai asked. Though whether he was asking it of the shadow or his brother, he wasn’t sure.

Iaro’s frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean…” There was no delicate way to put this. “If that’s what made this all work, what happens when it’s gone?”

#my writing #Iaro and Orai

[captkirkland]

Alright, so some Arthur Kirkland headcanons from me per @shithole-state’s request:

Arthur is genuinely such a complicated guy that it’s hard to really.. quantify him easily in words, I think. At times, he can seem like the complete antithesis of himself, and it’s not like he does that specifically on purpose, but there are certainly things he does do to throw people off about him.

Firstly, to me he’s.. a very small man. Like 5’4”-5’6”. Not that this is bad, but it makes his life even more complicated because people tended not to take him seriously when he was younger. It was a quick and harsh realization that he needed to harden himself against a sharp world that’d run him through if he didn’t.

Having grown up the way he did, the youngest of four brothers, who (in the canon I usually write from full of my own hcs,) had to deal with quite a lot of bullshit from them and his father during his upbringing. He looks more like Britannia than Celt of course, but that is for some very specific reasons. (Cough. The saxons being such a big part of early English history. Cough. Those were Germanic, not Celtic.) Often times I feel like he was the subject of bullying, considering those very early on English traumas, and I don’t really feel like he ever came across a genuine way to express himself. Emotionally, he’s stunted as hell, and he doesn’t preform in very healthy ways in regards to himself.. which.. y’know, eventually did come out in the way he treated others. He was a magic user, a witch, which obviously did not work very well with the sharp rise of Christianity, Catholicism, and Protestantism— and really that only made things so much worse.

I have a very specific view of how the personified nations behaved compared to how the governments of certain times did, because I absolutely believe that sometimes the countries, as their own people, did not agree with their bosses all the time! How could they? Their own people are getting hurt, the people of their friends, family. They are severely impacted by the wants of the people they represent, the land they call themselves— so of course they’d dissent. That comes out a lot in my specific canon with my friends a lot because we like to merge the 2Ps, Nyos, and even 2P Nyos into the canon verse to get a wider view of history. But, saying that, I fully believe that pirate Arthur specifically had a moment in time where he was.. literally a pirate. Against the East India Company, thieving, fighting, what have you. It was short lived, but he’d been a privateer and a sailor much longer, the literal pirate bit was towards the end when he started disagreeing hard with his own actions and the actions of his nation as a whole. I mean, how could a dude colonized to fuck and back very PERSONALLY entirely agree with that? But there was a part of his head that wanted land, wanted people in his “family.” It wasn’t right or okay, but at the start.. the idea of an empire didn’t seem so bad to him. It’d just be people in a family. Even if it’s a little hard, families are hard. Plus, it gave him such a rush and surge of power. What could be so bad about it? Which.. is the thought process that lead to a lot of self loathing during those lapses of (coined term with my friends) “country brain,” where he could make out what what going with those affected humans and what was actually happening. He started drinking then more than ever before, and it’s really never gone away.

He takes the harder roads of English history I think, out of some wish to keep Oliver from having to deal with that, believing he’s a touch more steeled than the other. Though, granted, it’s a thought in folly. A lot of his thoughts of himself are skewed, which really plays into how he behaves. He doesn’t care for people knowing his real feelings, hardening himself against prying eyes with an anger and a pissy face he’s had ever since his childhood. He hates the thought of being belittled and ruled, yet for a bit that’s what he did to people. He’s a hypocrite, and the worst part is that he knows it. He hates so much about himself, and yet even that twists himself because he has to carry himself highly. Nobody can hurt him if he does it first, and nobody can hurt him if he makes himself untouchable. So, he comes off narcisstic at times, probably because he is one after so many years. There’s so much going on in his head that’s unchecked, and he’s too prideful and staid in his ways to get it looked into on his own. Sometimes it all becomes too much though, and that’s when he has almost visceral breakdowns and has lapses in sanity (Britannia Angel, anyone?) before it all snaps back and he’s embarrassed about even carrying himself that way. These days he needs to have a more gentle nature outwardly, because that’s what’s been deemed as appropriate. He needs to be a gentleman in front of everyone, but especially both those he hurt, those who are afraid, or those who would judge him harshly if he didn’t. However, the facade is absolutely shatterable. There’s so many cracks in it sometimes that it confuses people sometimes about what kind of person he is. Dude had a huge one during the rock movement, which is incidentally where he gained back quite a bit of actual confidence in his own personal abilities, which is why I think his guitar is so damn important to him. But he also was partaking in quite a bit back then, the man has a real problem with addiction, but these days he’s cut back on mostly everything but smoking and drinking. unfortunately you can’t take the bottle out of his hand, or the music out of his head no matter what it sounds like! (sea SHANTIES) but all in all I find the man absolutely fascinating just because he is so diverse as a person on his own. This doesn’t even touch on the fact that he feels responsible for most of the world and is willing to absolutely lay down his life for the people he cares about either. There is just so much I could say about him, like he was a knight once! he loves high fantasy, he plays dnd! the list goes on, he’s such a complex person because the life he’s lead has been so— but at the end of the day he’s at home watching the bake off and doing needlework and I absolutely can’t stand him LOL

#hetalia #hws england #iggy rambles #iggy writes #I love the Kirkland family so much don’t look at me. please don’t look #I even made them a tartan bro #that’s what’s on Scotland’s kilt in the one pic #if I get thoughts together better on alistair I’ll write one of these for him too

[mylovelies-docx]

Kid Krow - Heather

Chapter two is here! I’m going to try and post updates on Mondays, Thursdays, and Sundays until it’s finished!

The angst train is beginning its looooong journey, so be prepared!

Feedback is always appreciated, and my inbox is open for questions or comments.

Trigger warnings for this chapter: angst, pining, jealousy, hurt, sadness, allusions to smexy times, friendship. (Zorii is a good buddy)

Tagging the ones that liked the last post: @lil-lex1​  @star-hoes​ @greendagger15​

Word count: 3k

Link to the song inspo! x

Everyone had been drinking heavily by this point. Poe had his arm slung over your shoulders, drawing you into his heat to ward off the chilly night. Everyone was celebrating the success of your last mission.

It was successful in terms that nobody was injured. The exchange, on the other hand, could have gone better. But when your friends get the urge to party, there really is no stopping them.

You were the pilot of this little group that made up your circle of friends. Poe had taught you everything he knew about flying, and you had the patience that went along with being friends with a very… Poe… type of person. Therefore, you were the best pilot the group had. You could sit in the pilot’s chair all day waiting on the others to come back from their rendezvous with criminals and politicians alike, and be perfectly happy reading stories on your holopad.

You and Poe had been with the Kijimi Spice Runners for more than a few years now, ever since he had turned 16 and pestered you until you went along with his little escape plan. Everyone in your squadron was a decent being – as decent as smugglers and criminals can be, anyway – and you and Zorii were the best of friends when Poe wasn’t busy shoving his tongue down her throat. 

And sometimes even when he was.

It killed whatever was left of your heart every time they wandered away from the group, running off the make out and fuck the adrenaline still thrumming through his veins out after a successful drop. But Zorii wasn’t drawing him away at the moment, so your heart was safe.

For now.

You were gazing up at Poe, enraptured in the way he was telling the story of one of your many adventures before joining up with the Spice runners of Kijimi. Your fellow runners were all laughing boisterously at your expense, as Poe was describing the time you wiped out in a pile of Bantha dung after trying unsuccessfully to tip one over while it slept. 

You were laughing along because it was hilarious in retrospect, but you still shoved at Poe’s chest in defense of your younger self. He laughed harder, bringing himself back towards you and placing you directly against his chest with both arms draped over you, cradling you against him. (x)

His touch was more intoxicating than the Alderaan Ruge Liquor someone had stolen for tonight from the depths of a collector’s cellar.

You shivered at the delicious feeling of Poe surrounding you. You lived for moments like this, where you were both safe and happy and together. Poe’s laughter faded and he glanced down at you, a concerned look on his face.

“Are you cold?” he asks, his hands now rubbing up and down your arms. You blushed, unable to bring yourself to admit that it was more a shiver of pleasure than from the cold.

“Just a little, but I’m alright,” you said, smiling up at him.

“Well, we can’t have that.” Poe released you and started taking some of his layers off. Even with the fire you were all gathered around, multiple layers were necessary.

“Poe, no! Put your clothes back on,” you giggled, pretending to peek through the fingers you had placed over your eyes in mock chastity. Your flush building as he removed one of his sweaters and his undershirt rode up enough to expose a strip of tan skin.

“Nonsense, my princess is cold and I’ve got plenty of clothes to share.” Poe grinned, tugging his freshly removed sweater over your head and smoothing the hair away from your face where his actions had mussed it. “Besides: it looks better on you, anyway.”

You hugged your arms around yourself as you watched Poe zip up his outer layers. Your heart was full to bursting in your chest, and you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

Once Poe was situated again, you clung back onto him. You wrapped your hands around his arm and tucked them up where his arm met his chest. You gave your fingers a little wiggle and looked up at Poe, a mischievous grin on your lips. Poe’s face was playfully stern.

“Don’t even think about it, (Y/N). You know what will happen,” Poe warned.

“I’m not doin’ anything,'' you shrugged, looking away. Poe didn’t believe you, so he took your hands away from him and gripped them in his own, rubbing them gently to keep them warm.

You were in a great mood, enjoying the evening with friends and getting progressively more intoxicated.

“What a sight for sore eyes!” came Zalos’s bellow from beside you. He was gesturing for Zorii to come closer to the fire and join in on the fun you were all having. She had just come from talking with another group of Spice runners at the party, all of them watching her go and murmuring appreciatively to each other. Whatever deal she had just struck was going to do great things for your little troop.

“No thanks, I think I’m going to head to my quarters; big day and all,” Zorii threw a meaningful look Poe’s way and walked off towards the ship.

You watched his eyes as she walked by. There was a hunger in them that hadn’t been there before. You knew what was coming next.

“I think she’s right; I think I’m going to pack it in for the night, too.” Poe released your hands and gave you a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”

With a small wave and a smile on his face, he rushed after Zorii. Off to offer his warmth to her for the night and well into the morning.

“About time,” Arle muttered, taking another swig of liquor, “they’ve been dancing around each other for weeks now.”

“I wouldn’t call it dancin’ as much as foreplay. It’s always hotter when you’ve gotta work for it,” you said, pretending that your heart wasn’t breaking. “She’s had him mesmerized for a while now. I’m just surprised it took you all this long to find out they were together.” You upended your glass and downed the last of your drink. You stalked over to the bottle for a refill – you’d be needing it tonight. “I thought you three were more observant than that?” you teased.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mille groused.

“Good for them, though. Someone on this team needs a little action,” Arle mentioned, quickly looking to and dropping Mille’s gaze. Looks like Poe and Zorii weren’t the only ones that would be coupling up for the night.

“You’re all weak-willed; sex is the antithesis to rational thought. It drives you all mad with desire and detracts from what’s really important,” Zalos ranted, not for the first time.

“We can’t all be as lucky as you, Zal. Us lesser creatures crave a sweet release every now and again,” you joked. If you could have been as uninterested in relationships as Zalos was, you wouldn’t be in the situation you were now. You could be genuinely happy for Poe and Zorii, your two best friends, for finding joy in each other.

“I’ll teach you anything you want to know, little one. It’s all about meditation,” Zalos supplied, bringing his hands together in an imitation of a meditative position.

You chuckled and took a deep gulp of the Alderaanian liquor, hoping it would provide a deep enough sleep that you wouldn’t hear Poe’s moans through the walls tonight.

_____

“I don’t want to know,” you chuckled. 

You were nursing a killer headache, and the stars shooting by the transparisteel were making you nauseous. Zorii was as composed and pretty as ever, having not taken part in the flowing alcohol last night.

Why would he ever kiss me when I’m not even half as pretty as she is? you wondered to yourself. You turned your neck so that your head was lying against the pilot’s chair, providing an unimpeded view of Zorii in her morning-after glow.

“All I’m saying is that you need to find someone that can do that to you; I promise you won’t regret it.” Zorii looked at you with a devilishly satisfied smile. You rolled your eyes at her antics, having already planned on finding someone to spend a few hours with at the next fuel stop.

“I don’t need to know how good of a lover my best friend is, thank you very much. I’m perfectly content not to know.” Because if you knew how much you were missing out on, you’d feel even worse than you already did.

“Fine; it’s your loss. I’m just trying to give you some new things to try out.” Zorii smiled into her caf, happy that she had made you squirm. She thought that you were anticipating trying out whatever she had been explaining, but you had tuned her out when the thoughts of Poe grinding into you from that angle left you hot and unable to focus on what else she was saying.

“Whatever,” you joked good naturedly, “just try to keep it down next time, yeah? Even in a liquor induced coma, I could hear you guys.” You had woken up to Poe’s groans echoing in your ears; both from the quarters next to yours and from inside your dream.

“Okay, princess. We’ll try not to mess with your beauty sleep,” she grinned.

“That’s all I ask.” 

The conversation ended.

You both sat there staring as the stars passed by. You couldn’t focus on any one thought for long, so you were glad Zorii was tuned in enough to notice your inability to function that morning. She just provided the silent company you craved.

After a while, the quiet was broken when the cockpit door hissed open. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw Poe walking in. You threw him a tired smile and looked back out the windscreen.

Poe sauntered up between the chairs, ruffling your hair and placing a kiss on Zorii’s lips. He squatted down between the two of you.

“So, where are we heading, princess?” he questioned.

“Wherever Mille tells me to go; it’s their turn to pick the destination.” You explained. Mille hadn’t woken up yet, being a notoriously late sleeper. You’re sure it didn’t help that Arle and they had left the fire together last night, either.

“Sounds like a plan.” Poe turned to Zorii, some clothing in hand. “I thought you would be a little cold, so I brought you my sweater,” he said, pulling it open and placing it over her head, much the same as he did for you last night.

You sucked in a quiet breath, trying not to flinch. It was the same sweater you were given last night.

 “And who says I wanted this?” Zorri snarked, hands on her hips and a faux-affronted expression on her face.

“I say you wanted this,” Poe returns. He placed a kiss on her forehead and threw you a wink, then strolled back out of the cockpit with  a smile on his face.

“What a sap,” you commented. You don’t think she noticed the sadness that lingered in your expression after Poe gave her his sweater. You grew colder at the knowledge that Poe cared for her just as much, if not more, than he did for you. 

You definitely knew that he cared about her in a different way than he did you.

“Yeah…” she breathed. She fisted her hands in the sweater and pulled it up to her nose, taking in the smell of Poe.

The sweater he had given you last night had been spread out on your cot, infusing the blankets with his scent. A terrible way of trying to get over your crush, but one of the only ways you could stand not having him there. It’s excruciating that Poe had taken it from you to give to her.

He must like the thoughts of her in his sweater more than he cared about your feelings on the matter. But you had told him you were over it, so over it you pretended to be.

The last time you and Poe had gone off alone together had not gone your way, and you needed to keep the promise you made to him that day.

“When we stop for fuel, do you think you can stall every one for a couple of hours?” you asked Zorii.

“Oh yeah? Did I give you some ideas?” she teased, reaching out her arm to pinch your cheek.

“And so what if you did?” you smacked her hand away and rubbed your cheek. “It’s been a while since I was off the ship and having some fun away from you nerfherders.” Your tone was playful and you threw a knowing look her way.

“You know it’s not me keeping you from having fun; I encourage you as much as I can. I think Poe’s just jealous that when you’re gone you give me control and not him.”

Zorii was right, but it hurt to think that the only reason Poe didn’t want you to be with somebody else was because you didn’t give him the pilot’s chair. It had started out as a joke, you giving Zorii – arguably the worst pilot out of all of you – control while giving Poe your stuck-out tongue. 

You liked when he begged you to stay, begged you to keep everyone up in the air and on the way to the next Spice drop. But you only gave him a cheeky smile and a promise of being back after a few hours. Sometimes you told him about your plans to find someone just to see if he was jealous for a different reason when you got back late.

He never was.

____

You were sat with your feet propped on the console, careful to avoid pressing any buttons. You had a leather bound tome on your lap, enjoying the story’s plot. The main character reminded you of Poe: brave, brash, and beautiful. You were so enthralled that you didn’t hear the chatter of the trade end, so when you resurfaced at the next chapter you were at a loss as to why everyone was laughing amongst themselves.

“Did I miss something?” you asked, hand to the comm link in your ear. “I wanna be in on the joke.”

“It’s nothing, princess; we were just wondering why you zoned out on us,” Poe replied. You could hear the smile in his voice. “Another one of your stories take you away from us?”

“Of course. None of you are heroic enough to prevent an extinction-level event. You’re actually quite boring in comparison,” you said airily, grinning through your lie. They were some of the best people you knew-- illegal activities aside-- and they knew that.

“Okay, little book-worm.” Zorii was chuckling at the exchange. “We’re heading into the next cantina we find; are you going to join us this time?” she asked sarcastically, already knowing your answer.

“And waste what precious little alone time I have? Not a chance, Rii. You guys have fun out there, but I’m staying right here.” You made yourself more comfortable in your chair, preparing for at least a few more hours of immersion. 

They heard you wiggling around, and laughed at your refusal to join them once again.

“It didn’t sound like you wanted to be alone the other night,” Poe said slyly. “We all heard you and that bounty hunter outside of the ship; you seemed to be enjoying their company.” Poe was chuckling to himself. “What was that? The fifth one in the last few weeks?”

Everyone was laughing and joking along, but you were horrified to know that they had all heard you. That Poe had heard you. And that he thought the way in which you had decided to keep your promise was a joke to be laughed at.

“Shut it,” you growled. Everyone was still having fun and chatting back and forth, but Poe went silent.

You heard music in the background, signaling that they had finally made it to a cantina. You were relieved that the conversation was ending and that you had time to calm your anger before they came back. 

You said goodbye to the group and started removing your comm link when Poe’s voice came over the private channel.

“I’m sorry, princess,” he apologized, sighing heavily into the line. “That was uncalled for; I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“No,” you said, rage and hurt evident in your voice, “you shouldn’t have.”

“I know you’re trying to work through some things--” he began, but you cut him off.

“Seriously, Poe: don’t mention it. I’m working through it and making progress, so you don’t have to worry.” Your anger was morphing into a melancholy ache that was burning a hole in the middle of your chest.

“I’m always going to worry about you, (Y/N), that’s what friends do.” Poe was trying so hard to apologize, but everything he said was only making it worse.

“I know,” you choked, “just try not to mention my little indiscretion again, yeah?” 

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Poe joked, trying to console you.

Poe, please stop laughing at me, you begged internally.

You stared up at the controls above your head, willing the burning behind your eyes to go away. You needed a subject change and to get Poe to leave you alone for right now.

“Hey, could you bring me back some food? I’m not in the mood for anything we have onboard.” 

“Yeah, sure. The usual?” Poe asked, thankfully having taken the hint and backing off.

“You know it.” You forced a neutral tone to your voice, hoping to get him off the line quickly. “But no rush; you guys enjoy yourselves. I’ll just be here.”

“Okay, (Y/N), we’ll see you soon.”

“Okay.” 

You ended the link and tried to go back to your story, but the male lead reminded you too much of Poe again and you had to put it away.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe x reader #poe dameron/reader #poe dameron x you #star wars #star wars fan fiction #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron x y/n #sequel trilogy #Kid Krow (A Poe Dameron Story)

[the-hot-zone]

@agentcalliope THE REVIEW GOT TOO LONG FOR AO3′S REVIEW BOX AND WOULDN’T LET ME POST IT SO HERE IT IS. I’M SORRY IT’S SO LONG BUT I REALLY LIKE YOUR FIC SDKSDK

I mean firstly, the only thing I can say after reading this is, wow. Wow. Holy shit, wow. They way everything builds--the capitalization, the punctuation, the epithets, the prose--to demonstrate on both a subconscious and conscious level how Azula develops. The reader is comprehending these words, but also they’re registering the way you use spacing, punctuation, and capitalization, forcing the reader to slow down/stop/keep reading at certain parts, which creates a flow that a) sounds like Azula b) portrays her mental state and c) shows her development. It’s like a crescendo of writing conventions that never stops moving, and god I just. I’m fangirling a lil bit over your writing. There’s not a wasted line, space, italicization, quotation mark, period, comma, or word in this fic. Everything serves a purpose, and the way it builds--just. Wow. I can see the work you put into editing and revising this, and I want you to know that you’ve communicated your point extremely well. I’m moved. As a reader, I’m in tears. As a writer, I’m floored (and I’m taking notes.) God, okay, time to get specific.

The stylization. This is one of my fav writing styles--the blend of poetry and narration--that I don’t get to see a whole lot, and it’s hard to pull off. I really feel like you’ve used that style to its full potential; in your hands, it feels like that style was made to tell Azula’s story. I really, really like this, so I hope you don’t mind if I talk about why? Which means analyzing; analyzing is my love language, and I love your fic, truly.

In the beginning of the fic, she is “the girl;” she is “a princess,” not “Azula.” This shows how, with her defeat, Azula has lost herself completely (”someone is screaming who is screaming”). Ozai built her for a role she no longer has, so she has lost her identity, her sense of self. So, when she accepts the identity of monster, that is something she must unlearn through Iroh and for herself.

The first time the reader reads Azula’s name (as “azula), it’s isolated by a line break and positioned right after a long, run-on thought from Azula (”he doesn’t look quite...”) and before “the boy says.” This shows how Azula’s name, her identity, is separate from a) her inner monologue and thus her sense of self and b) how she perceives the world around her (outside of dialogue). And this further illustrates the importance of dialogue in this fic; dialogue is the connection from her inner monologue to how she perceives the world. Thus, later in the fic, when Iroh speaks the first line of quotation-mark-surrounded dialogue, it shows how he gets through to her. AH THE WAY YOU BUILD EVERYTHING UP.  Also, her description of Ozai in this scene as “the person she knows to love” has so much meaning. It’s like a lesson she’s learned, a fact she’s been taught: to love Ozai. The way you inject so much meaning into line breaks, and the layers of depth you add to single lines. Immaculate. I can really describe it as masterful.

Azula finally refers to herself as “azula” once Zuko says “I will never give up on you” Not only that, however, but the first time she refers to him as “zuko” instead of “the boy” is also when he says “I will never give up on you.” Also, that same piece of dialogue contains “uncle never gave up on me,” which shows how Uncle’s patience connects both Azula and Zuko in their respective healing journeys. Which, oh my god, I love Uncle’s role in Azula’s healing in this fic. His remorse for leaving her with Ozai is so tangible and painful to read. I love how you portray his characters; he comes off the page as Uncle Iroh; his characterization is so strong.

But the scene after Azula finally refers to herself as “azula,” Suki comes in. For one, “zuko and katara beat you or did you forget?” is written with a question mark, showing the significant of that line and how it affects Azula, shown in “azula screams.” Azula connects the person who is screaming with herself; she is still fracturing due to her loss. (Because her loss of the Agni Kai is symbolic of like, her failing everything Ozai built her up to be: the opposite of Zuko.)

The scene where Aang comes is where punctuation in Azula’s inner monologue first appears:  “the avatar’s gray eyes are soft and full of sympathy and it makes her angry.” I feel like this is her echoing Ozai’s sentiments, especially with “a princess is not pathetic.” Patheticness was something Azula had always associated with Zuko, so these lines sound a lot like Ozai to me. But “not made to be pitied” is next, without any punctuation. This is because pity is a new emotion for her to face, and she does not associate it with “a princess,” seen in the later lines “now the girl sees not pity but weakness” What’s important here is that Azula is “a girl” again. Aang’s pity is the antithesis to Ozai; peace where he sees bloodshed and war, and it blindsides her. Bro I just, the way you communicate Ozai’s presence so subtly yet so strongly... the talent.

Also: “it makes me feel sad for you the avatar answers“ Stop making me cry!!! THAT LINE WAS HEARTBREAKING. The snippets of Aang in this fic were lovely to read.

iirc, the first full line we get, capitalized, with punctuation, is when Toph is talking to Azula: “I just wanted to tell you that I know what it's like to have Expectations to have parents that expect certain things of you. It sucks. but you suck too. no wonder everyone hates you.”

THE LAYERS OF MEANING:

a) Expectations is capitalized, showing the significance of expectations to Azula; her mind latches onto it. (I love the significance of expectations throughout this fic and how the play into Azula’s sense of identity and healing jdkfkfAHH like with the TEA.)

b) This is where Azula’s “new” sense of self as “monster” begins to develop. “but you suck too. no wonder everyone hates you.” Both are short and with periods, showing the weight of Toph’s words.

When Katara sees Azula, iirc, we get the longest string of sentences with periods so far. Periods are becoming more common, showing how Azula’s identity is beginning to come together, but it’s an identity as monster: “your own brother. you’re disgusting. you’re a monster.” The repetitiveness and switch between your and you’re is almost like a rhythm, pounding “you’re a monster” into Azula’s head. After Katara leaves, we get the first full sentence Azula says: “I’ve never pretended to be anything else.”

Azula sees herself as a monster; she’s seeing the weight of her past actions.

When Iroh arrives, we get the longest string of sentences WITH capitalization in this point of the fic (I think): “It’s sweet. You have always loved sweet tea, my niece. A fascinating contrast.” And a new identity is introduced: my niece.

When Azula asks for Uncle after the nightmare, we get the first time a name is capitalized in the fic: Uncle. Not even Ozai has “father” capitalized. This shows Iroh’s significance in her healing journey. Not only that, but Uncle is the one that comes to her, not Ozai. This contrast between Ozai’s absence and Uncle’s presence is what begins to allow Azula to heal--and what ultimately helps her truly stay on the path of healing. I love how you build up the notion of Ozai not being there for Azula, not coming to get her. The way it culminates in the end feels like such strong, real development because of your build-up.

Once Uncle begins to visit regularly, your writing becomes more abundant with “proper” sentences. This is one of my fav examples of this:

“Uncle continues to bring her sweet tea. He talks to her. He sits next to her as she leans against the wall and speaks many tales of spirits and beautiful women. azula almost looks forward to his visits. Almost.”

Every sentence except the one that begins with “azula’ is capitalized. She’s not there yet, with her identity, but Uncle is there. And when Azula says “but I am a monster,” the fic gets its first line of quotation-enclosed dialogue:

“Oh, my dear. My beautiful niece. I don’t believe that.”

And then, right after that, we get “Princess Azula.” This is the first time Azula is capitalized, and Uncle says it. But Azula is the one perceiving the dialogue; she is accepting “Princess Azula.” Sure enough, right after that, we get this:

“Azula narrows her eyes suspiciously.”

The first time Azula refers to herself in her inner monologue as Azula. FINALLY. FUCK. This is one of the most satisfying developments in this fic, when Azula finally sees herself as “Azula,” even if she’s not all the way there yet. Your build-up makes this moment feel amazing.

Another thing I loved was how Azula is obsessed with getting the tea perfect; the tea is a reflection of herself; “She will make his jasmine tea, and she will make it precisely the way it is expected to be.”

HIS jasmine tea. Not HER jasmine tea. This shows that she’s trying to fit a mold she thinks Iroh has for her; she will make the tea as it is expected to be; SHE will be exactly as she is expected to be.

But when she fails, Iroh simply says “Let’s try it again.” When Azula fails to be “perfect,” pain and fear isn’t waiting for her. Iroh is. So when Iroh says,

“I am just an old man looking forward to trying his niece’s cup of tea, which she has worked hard on.”

This is so important. It is HIS NIECE’S (Azula’s) cup of tea, which SHE has worked hard on. In other words, it is Azula’s healed identity that she has worked hard on, and it is “one of the best teas I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing in my life.” Just. The symbolism. Fuck. So good. 

Then, in the next scene, she tells Zuko to tell Aang she’s sorry. This brings back Sokka’s earlier words, “you won't ever apologize for what you’ve done or bear responsibility for your actions and we both know it.” BUT AZULA IS UNLEARNING, and that is tangible development, babey. In a way, Sokka was right, because the “you” he was talking to wasn’t the Azula that’s now wanting to apologize to Aang. Azula as “Azula” didn’t exist then; now she does. I can’t this fucking fic I am STUNNED. The way you introduce and maintain concepts to develop Azula’s journey... It’s amazing AH

“Azula cradles her own cup in her hands and breathes in the steam, letting it cling to her face.“ Bro I just wanted to say that this line gave me brilliant imagery. You perfectly described how it feels to hold a mug of something warm and breathe it in, like ahhh the sensory imagery was so VIVID.

“Zuko tears off a piece of bread, and places it on her palm. She looks down at it, her hand without crackling cackling blue fire. The only blue is the water, beautiful and clear.” Thinking bout the contrast, and how the color blue used to separate her from the world; now it joins her to it (turtleducks.) YOUR LAYERS. Another contrast I love was the one between “red drapes that used to block out the sun when it rises every morning” and “basking in Agni’s light.” This reminds me of the Sun Warriors and Zuko learning the true meaning of fire, as something full of life and light, not something that only burns. That was my favorite contrast throughout the fic, and the most meaningful to me. 

Azula saying “Why not?” to Sokka was everything I need in life.

“Azula brings herself out of the palace, and back into the prison.“ Ozai is her prison. The wording. THE WORDING SAYS SO MUCH. The way she comes to Ozai--but. He never came for her. Uncle did. She has new experiences and a new sense of self; she’s not the Azula she was, and she’s not the Azula Ozai is expecting. So when you write

“Because he has made Azula into Azula, and he has done it well.”

and she walks away, it’s a defiance of everything she’s been, everything she was forced to be. Azula made Azula into Azula, and she understands this.

“This is not what she was made for.” is a recognition that Ozai forced her into a role that was never for kindness, for love, for acceptance, for change. As she learns and unlearns, unmakes her identity as a monster, she’s understanding that Ozai never intended for Azula to be her own Azula. And this means she sees the world through her own eyes, not Ozai’s:

“his eyes not wounded and sad but fierce and soft and she knows what he’s saying isn’t a lie.”

JUST. The way you built this fic. You saw more than words as your tools, and I am honestly in awe of the way you used writing conventions. This fic is so strong because you literally made everything about Azula; Azula is this fic. THE ARTISTRY. I really, really hope you’re proud of the story you’ve built. Thank you for writing.

(ALSO TOPH WAS EVERYTHING I NEEDED AND MORE.)

#avatar the last airbender #atla #agentcalliope #and it's my whole heart (weighed and measured) #fic reivew #analysis is my love language #y'all ever spend three hours on a fic review #and then get so hungry you gobble five chicken wings immediately after #me #SORRY IT'S SO LONG #sometimes you gotta review a fanfic instead of revising your essay about fanfic #thank you for writing

[chikabika]

I wanna talk about Whole Cake Island too!

So, I’m reading Whole Cake Island right now. And I have THOUGHTS about Sanji and Luffy’s “”””fight””””. And it’s probably nothing anyone hasn’t said before but I’m gonna write it out anyway.

(TL;DR Sanji and Luffy fight and it hurts because they both go for the throat. Also Nami has been through this shit I am surprised she’s putting up with Sanji trying to leave in the slightest.)

So first, yeah, I’m screaming into a pillow because this shit is rough. Let’s get those personal emotions out of the way first. 

Sanji’s whole thing is that he cares and serves, right? His love language is acts of service and that’s primarily shown through feeding people. When we meet the Vinsmokes (I shall not be referring to them as his family) we see pretty quickly that they are the antithesis to everything Sanji is. 

The men are literally said to lack the ability to sympathize or empathize. Not only do we see this is the case, but Reiju says so herself:

They do not value cooking nor food. Judge tells Sanji to never cook again, Niji wastes food.

And, of course, the brothers have no qualms about hitting women. The whole chivalry/won’t hit a women thing is a huge can of worms I don’t feel like unpacking in part because I don’t feel like I could talk about it without discussing women’s power levels and roles in One Piece. And I’ve already digressed too much.

So yeah, the Vinsmokes are the opposite of Sanji and hold none of his values. In fact, they may be why he holds some of his values, because they are as far from the Vinsmoke’s values as possible.

Okay so the two chapters in particular when Luffy and Nami find and confront Sanji! 

Pretty immediately we see that 1. Sanji was not expecting them, 2. He’s distressed that they’re here, and 3. It complicates things for him.

Like, that is not a face of someone happy to see his friends who have come to save him. That is an “oh fuck” face. (And as a sidenote, yeah, it’s a whole lot harder to sacrifice yourself when you’re confronted with the people you’re leaving behind, HUH, SANJI????)

Luffy’s all happy to see him, feels like they’ve accomplished their goal, doesn’t question that Sanji would want to come back. And he’s got things to do! Like save Wano and beat up Kaido! Chop chop Sanji let’s go on adventures! Plus, I would think that Luffy would also have the expectation of his crew that they understand that no one gets to leave if they’re doing it to sacrifice themselves. He’s already shown he’s gonna come get you and Sanji knows this. Sanji’s first arc with them after Baratie was going to save Nami from Arlong and her self-sacrificial bullshit! Luffy’s modus operandi is saying “Oh, you thought you were in a lose-lose situation and the only solution was to sacrifice your happiness and well being? Fuck that! You’re my nakama, let me save you!”

Both Luffy and Nami aren’t questioning Sanji’s wanting to come with them. They’re here, it’s time to go!

And so then we see the surface level reasons why Sanji would say “No, I can’t go with you.” And we also see that he knows Judge is watching him.

I don't think Nami's buying it either. She's done this. She knows what it's like to be trapped by circumstances, to have your loved ones held hostage. And she did this shit too! She fuckin laid it down, lied to her nakama about it all being a farce in her efforts to keep them out of her dangerous situation! Maybe the words sting, but I think this face of hers is even more from her thinking about how they all know eachother so much more, and know how Luffy wouldn't leave one of them behind. So Sanji must be under some real duress right now. Like, I feel like she could extrapolate a lot from what he's saying because she knows that's not who he is. And because she's tried the same shit. And, I wonder if she’s hurting for him because she knows what it’s like.

Every chance she gets, she reiterates that there was nothing between them, that she doesn’t care about them, that she tricked them, and even uses her supposed killing of Usopp as support of her betraying them. She is desperately trying to get them off this island. Arlong is well covered, we all know what’s up.

And, the parallels are pretty clear for Sanji. He’s got family being held hostage (Zeff, and the Strawhats too), and he couldn’t leave anyway because he’s got explosion bracelets on. Plus he’s got his own self-sacrificial streak (which I could guess comes from being raised in a household where you’re told you don’t have any value and everything you do is wrong-the fact that Sanji still cried at Judge’s rejection of him right before his escape speaks to how as a child he still wanted Judge’s approval and love as a father).

So, he comes out swinging with the thing that we previously established would be the shittiest thing to say, that Luffy rejected the possibility of him saying.

And then he starts on this buckwild speech that is so fucking hammed up I almost questioned if Sanji meant for them to understand the opposite of his words, and was just putting on a show for the Vinsmokes.

Nami only says he’s going too far when Sanji starts insulting Luffy’s dream, which the whole crew believes in and supports. 

Also, as a side note, it doesn’t really make sense to me that Nami would just take on the role of “you’re going too far, you can’t believe what you’re saying!” Maybe Chopper would do that cuz he’s gullible and shit. BUT NAMI FREAKIN DID THE SAME SHIT. I would almost expect a “...” speechbubble from her and later her saying something like “He really tried his best to make that look convincing, didn’t he? He’s not very good at it.”

Nami’s savvy!

But anyway, yeah, Sanji tries to go for the throat to push thme away saying shit about Luffy not being able to become the Pirate King. My first reaction to this whole thing was: 

“WOW HE'S REALLY DOING IT, HUH? HE'S LYING THROUGH HIS TEETH TO SAY THE MOST HURTFUL SHIT HE CAN TO HIS LOVED ONES SO THEY'LL STAY AWAY SO HE CAN SACRIFICE HIMSELF TO STOP ANYONE FROM GETTING HURT”

Usopp has tried to leave too, but his situation was different. His reasons were stated clearly and he didn’t try to pretend that all the shit they’ve gone through together and the bonds they’ve formed were fake. Nami, Robin, Sanji? They try to do the “ah, I never loved you” bullshit. 

But Sanji’s is the first time that from the get-go, the audience knows before the confrontation everything that’s going on for the crewmember trying to fake betrayal. With Nami and Robin, we didn’t learn their backstories until after they tried to push people away. With Sanji not only did we get it beforehand, but when Luffy and Nami show up, we are shown the three pieces of information that Sanji thinks about and that motivate him to push his crewmates away:

His hands (his treasures) are bound and threatened.

His nakama are threatened.

Zeff is threatened.

He’s backed into a freakin corner! And he know’s Luffy’s track record on crew members trying to leave! So he goes for the throat and when that doesn’t work (or for the whole performance he’s putting on for the Vinsmokes) he attacks Luffy.

Luffy says he won’t fight Sanji, and I wonder if this is because of Water 7 and Usopp. That fight was so fucking painful, I wonder if Luffy vowed to never fight someone like that again?

Clearly he isn’t getting through to Sanji, even though, to him, Sanji should know what the deal is by now.

So he goes for the throat himself! Which is honestly just heartwrenching on Oda’s part and pretty unfair on Luffy’s part. Though, when has Luffy ever been fair lol. His whole crew agrees his selfishness levels are above emperor!

This page pretty much sums it up:

Also, throughout this entire encounter we get glimpses of Sanji thinking about the crew and meeting Luffy, which is cool to see his internal world somewhat.When Luffy first shows up. I mean. Look at the pain on his face.

This is not a “we have a difference in ideals and are fighting over it and I’m thinking about how we met because I regret that it’s come to this.” fight. It’s not even a fight. It’s Sanji desperately saying “Please leave before you die because of me!”

Actually, maybe it is kind of a fight of ideals because Sanji is fighting to say “leave me behind I’m not worth it” and Luffy’s saying “yes you are.”

For all the extremely clear things going on emotionally for people in this scene, I’m surprised Oda just left Nami’s responses at this. But, since he did, it means I get to interpret them how I please!

This could simply be read as her feeling betrayed and shit. But again, they all know the history of the crew. This could just as easily be her saying “You went too far.” or “I can’t believe you wouldn’t believe in Luffy enough to come back with us.”

I said she could probably guess at him feeling like he’s stuck, backed into a corner. And if I remember correctly she is aware that the Strawhat’s lives are threatened if Sanji doesn’t comply with Big Mom’s wishes. But she probably wouldn’t guess at the bracelets being bombs and doesn’t know (but might guess) at the Baratie being threatened too. Nami knows all about people who claim “family” as an excuse to hurt and bind you.

But basically, I would think for her, it would be a situation of her feeling like at this point Sanji should know Luffy well enough to know he won’t give up, and to trust Luffy enough to take Sanji home. So why the fuck would he try to play this game when they’ve all seen that it doesn’t work? Why say the most hurtful things he can think of? And why not just come home now?

I don’t think she’s angry at him for the betrayal he’s trying to act out, I think she’s angry at him for the betrayal he’s committing for not trusting the crew to get him out of there.

(Again, haven’t read past this part but I could absolutely see later Nami saying “do you think we acted hurt enough for them to buy it?”)

And then of course, the last four pages of the chapter where Luffy clearly calls bullshit on Sanji, saying Sanji felt the pain of his kicks more than Luffy did. And Sanji is just starting to fucking lose it. (panels from right to left)

Like, Luffy. Chill. It hurts so much! But no, he can’t just call Sanji out. He’s gotta go for the kill, present Sanji with an unacceptable situation he knows he can’t refuse. Or at least hopes he can’t refuse. Because for Luffy, Sanji leaving is an unacceptable situation.

Not only will he not eat (which, god, using that against Sanji is almost too much, fuck, Luffy), but he won’t even fucking move so get your ass back here soon before I starve, Sanji.

To use the two very deeply entrenched facts about these characters this way is sure something, huh?

Sanji will feed anyone who is hungry. He cannot stand hunger, almost.

Luffy eats all the damn time and lots and never refuses food. For him to say “i’m going on a hunger strike, I’m not eating until it’s from you” IS JUST SO MUCH.

Also side note god what cruel people to laugh at Sanji’s pain as Niji and Yonji are doing.

Sanji thought he could get away with thinking he’s expendable (just like Judge has said in every time period we’ve seen him on the page) Luffy flat out rejects that. Sanji is essential, an required part of the crew and a required part of Luffy’s dream. Just like the crew have adopted his dream as a part of all of their own ultimate goals, so Luffy is saying that they are all part of his ultimate goal. He has adopted them into him becoming the Pirate King.

And goddamn if this arc isn’t about found family. The blood of the covenant is thicker, don’t cha know.

#Sanji #Vinsmoke Sanji #black leg sanji #luffy #nami #one piece #one piece meta #sort of #whole cake island #one piece ch 844 #one piece ch 843 #i just had a lot of feelings and needed to talk about them in 14 pages of a google doc #opthots

[is0gild]

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Bonus Chapter 5

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 13,151

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

"Come on, Lea, unlock the door," I coaxed gently as I tugged on the car handle a couple times, even though I knew the action would be in vain. "Don't you think it's possible that you're being just a smidge childish?"

"What else is new?" Saïx deadpanned from where he leaned with one hip propped against the hood of his car and boredly scrolled through his phone, not even bothering to look up.

Lea's only response was to glower, razz his tongue and flip his brother the bird before huffily crossing his arms and slouching even further down into the driver's seat.

A testament to what a pillar of maturity he was being at the moment.

Sighing, I bent forward slightly so I could better see him through the window glass. "Need I remind you that you agreed to this?"

"I was tricked!" he harrumphed back, his voice muffled from the other side of the closed door.

My head tipped to one side. "Alright… how exactly were you tricked?"

His head turned to meet my gaze as he drooped his eyelids. "You had a cookie."

I blinked. "...and?"

"And I wanted the cookie."

"...so…?" I prompted again as my brow furrowed.

"So now the cookie's gone, I've changed my mind and wanna go home! Now get on board or get stranded cuz either way, I'm leaving." He jammed the key into the ignition, twisted hard and… nothing. Lea's eyes widened briefly before narrowing as he turned it again. And yet again.

"Did you forget my car requires the key and the code to start the engine, oh brainless one?" Saïx said flatly, eyes still trained on his phone screen.

That's right. Saïx's vehicle had a friggin' keypad built into the center console that required a seven-digit code. And it was a BMW no less. One did really have to wonder what his mystery job was that allowed him to afford such luxuries.

Lea growled, banging his palms against the steering wheel. "God fucking damnit, Saïx! This is exactly why ya shoulda told me the stupid password ages ago!"

He cocked an eyebrow at that. "So you could lock me out of my own automobile and drive away with it? As compelling an argument as that may be, I'm not exactly swayed."

"As compelling an argument as that may be, I'm not exactly swayed," Lea parroted back in a mockingly nasal tone before mashing his hand down hard on the car horn, blasting it and startling Saïx into jumping away from the vehicle and nearly dropping his phone. He shot Lea a dirty look, who simply replied by flashing him a half sneer, half smirk - a "smeerk," if you will.

"Well," I hastily interjected, trying to keep the peace as I once more peered inside Lea's impromptu little sanctuary on four wheels, "since I think we can all agree that it looks like you're stuck here for the time being, perhaps now you'll want to come out? Maybe even go inside the house with us?"

"Mm-mm. Nope. Not going anywhere near that dump," he hitched his chin with a derisive sniff. "My happy ass is gonna stay put right here, thank you very much."

My lips pursed to one side. "...okay… for how long?"

"Forever."

I fixed him with a dull stare. "Forever? Really?"

"Forever," he repeated, his voice firm. But then with a thoughtful frown, he amended, "...or until ya tell me you won't make me go inside. Whichever comes first."

I exchanged a brief look with Saïx. Then we both nodded as we came to an unspoken agreement together. My gaze settled on Lea once more, "Alright. I won't make you go inside."

He squinted at me, eyes suspicious as they darted over to his brother, then back. "You swear?"

"Cross my heart," I used a finger to draw an X over my chest.

Still, he looked unconvinced. A pause, then he rolled down the window a crack, just enough to poke his little finger out as he insisted, "Pinkie promise?"

My lips flapped as I blew out an incredulous little huff, but I hooked my pinkie with his. "I promise I won't make you go inside."

"Well, alright then!" his face immediately brightened and he unlocked the door. I took a step back as it swung open wide and he stepped out, reaching his hands skyward for a whole-body stretch with a satisfied sigh. "Whew! Feels good to be outta that car after all that time on the road, huh? My ass was starting to go numb from all that sitting and- shit motherfuck!"

The last part came out in a hiss when Saïx rushed him and Lea dodged just in the nick of time. "Betrayal! J'accuse!" Lea snapped as he dove for the still open car door, but stumbled just short of it thanks to Saïx catching his ankle in both hands. Not one to go out without a fight, Lea desperately latched one hand to the steering wheel and the other to the door frame, trying with all his might to pull himself back inside the vehicle while Saïx threw his entire body weight into dragging him out of it. Muscles straining, Lea snarled through grit teeth, "You promised!"

"She did. I made no such promise," Saïx replied matter-of-factly. He didn't even seem to be breaking a sweat.

"Don't think you'll get off on a goddamn technicality!" Lea grunted, gaining another inch into the car interior. He attempted a futile kick towards Saïx's face, "Leggo!"

Gnawing on my thumbnail, I now just watched as these two grown ass men basically played tug-of-war… with Lea's leg. And… shoot, it looked like Lea was winning. I had to do something, but what?

He suddenly shot me a tiny glare over his shoulder, "I expect this kinda bullshit from him, but not from y-"

I lunged towards him, grabbed his face with both hands, and pressed my lips firmly to his.

He lost his grip and came flying out of the car, crashing into Saïx who staggered but managed to stay upright. "That's cheating!" Lea huffed indignantly as he tried to scramble back inside the car again, but Saïx got him in a headlock first. He fought to pry himself free and when that proved unsuccessful, his hand suddenly produced the car keys once more, almost seemingly out of thin air. Threateningly tapping the tip of one key to the car's paint job, he spat, "Unhand me, villain, or the Beemer gets it!"

Saïx made a grab for the keys which gave Lea the opening he needed to elbow him in the gut and break free. But Saïx was quick to recover and snagged Lea again before he could get back inside the safety of the BMW. A struggle ensued, one that resulted in Saïx getting Lea in a grapple hold from behind by hooking his arms up under his armpits, back over his shoulders and interlocking his fingers together at the nape of Lea's neck.

Huffing and puffing and subdued for the moment, Lea grumbled a long string of curses under his breath as his brother hauled him around the car and across the front lawn towards the house - a rather nice suburban home, I might add, despite Lea's earlier comment about it being a dump. There was even a rather expensive looking car in the driveway, some sort of convertible that was sleek and black with a plate that read Insomnia RHS-113.

I took a quick glance inside Saïx's car to make sure we hadn't forgotten anything and noticed Saïx's had left behind the bag he'd brought with him. Grabbing it, I closed the driver's door and as I hurried to catch up, I could hear Saïx lecturing, "I did not ruin my sleep schedule and drive for half a day to get us all here just for you to chicken out at the last second and hole up in the car. You're going inside. Deal with it."

Lea turned his head to one side with a tiny scoff, but had no other retort. As we stepped onto the porch, his eyes landed on me. "You! Can't believe ya used your feminine wiles on me for evil. Of all the cheap, dirty, underhanded - dude," that last one had been directed at Saïx, who still had him grappled, "ya mind? You won already, jackass! I'm not going anywhere, jeez!"

Saïx hesitated for a few seconds, his face pinching before finally letting him go. "Thank you," Lea ground out in a tone that was the very antithesis of gratitude as he rolled his shoulders and popped his neck. Then he focused on me once more as Saïx retrieved his bag from me, "Now, where was I...? That's right! Of all the low, crooked, sneaky-"

"I'm sorry," I grimaced as I fidgeted with my braid. "...are you mad at me?"

"You kiddin'? Hell no, I'm proud of ya! Slowly but surely, I'm corrupting you to the ways of the dark side, El! 'Sides, who could get pissed at this adorable widdle face," he cooed, pinching my cheeks and smooching my forehead.

Then he tried to bolt.

It seemed he was hoping the element of surprise would be on his side.

"Gack!"

Unfortunately for him, it was not.

For that'd been the sound of him choking as Saïx snatched him by the scruff of the shirt , causing its collar to dig into his throat. He stumbled to an immediate stop and Saïx let go, folding his arms together and fixing him with an unamused look. Lea just rubbed at the fresh sore spot around his neck and laughed sheepishly. "Uh… wouldja believe I just forgot something in the car?"

Saïx drooped his eyelids. "No."

"Heh. Was worth a shot."

"It really wasn't," Saïx harrumphed as his hands smoothed his hair and swiped the wrinkles out of his clothes from their little kerfuffle. Then, without further ado or preamble, he pressed the doorbell.

A hush fell over us as we all waited. Lea glanced back over his shoulder, furtively side-eyeing the car. Saïx smacked the back of his head with a sharp thwack! "Ow! What the fuck was that for?" Lea snarled, socking him in the arm.

He didn't even flinch, just kept staring hard at the door as he muttered, "Don't even think about it."

"Wha- me? Think? Psh, I would never!"

"Finally… something we can both agree on."

Lea curled his lip with a soft tch, but otherwise fell quiet again… unnaturally quiet. At least for Lea anyway. He looked agitated now, with his eyes downcast and his lips set into a grim line, his posture very rigid and his whole body very still. I frowned and slipped my hand inside his, gently squeezing as I laced our fingers together. He looked over at me, eyes softening and smiling weakly as his grip tightened around mine and stayed that way.

That's when the front door opened.

Lea looked at the new face that greeted us now. "Hey…" he began, then paused, seeming to struggle with the next word. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply before exhaling, then finally forced out a soft, "...Mom."

You read that right.

Mom.

Lea had finally done it. At long last, he'd caved and agreed to see her. And trust me, he really had consented to this reunion, despite what his little tantrum a minute ago might look like to the contrary. Was it weird that I was here too for this? I thought maybe it was, at least a little bit. I mean, somehow I just felt like the first time I met his mother shouldn't also be the first time he was seeing her again in twenty years. Maybe that was just me though. In any case, Lea had kept saying how much he'd wanted me with him for moral support. Somewhat more surprisingly, Saïx had been pretty insistent about me joining them as well. Perhaps he thought my presence might keep Lea more docile and civil towards their mother.

If so, I got the feeling Saïx was about to be in for a rude awakening.

The woman who stood in the doorway before us now was pretty, her silver hair pulled back into a ponytail with long bangs that framed her face and the same vibrant green eyes as Lea and Saïx. She would've had to have been young when she had given birth to these two. Oh gosh, I might even go so far as to guess that she'd still been a teenager when she had Saïx.

Her eyes widened at the sight of Lea and she blinked a couple times. But then a slow half-grin tugged at her lips as she crossed her arms and lazily leaned one shoulder against the door frame. "Well, look who finally decided to give me the time of day."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, averting his gaze with a tiny scowl as he rubbed his shoulder with his free hand, "let's not make a huge fuss outta it."

"Course not, wouldn't dream of it. I-" she cut herself off, looking past him towards the afternoon horizon, bringing up a hand to shade her eyes with. "...wouldja look at that? Why, I do believe that's a pig flying."

"That's it, I'm leaving."

With a snort, she snagged him by the elbow before he could get very far. "Now now, no need for the ruffled feathers, I was just jerking your chain. Now stop camping out on my porch and c'mon, get in here!" It seemed it was not a request for with that, she yanked him inside, forcing me to stumble and follow since our hands were still linked.

"When you mentioned you might be bringing friends with you, Saïx, you never said anything about one of 'em being Axel," the woman good-naturedly accused him as he stepped in behind us, clicking the door shut before accepting a hug from her. From this angle, I could see her ponytail was composed of several smaller, segmented ponytails.

My boyfriend narrowed his eyes at her, "Not Axel. It's Lea now."

Releasing Saïx, she cocked her head at Lea and then hummed a laugh. "Right. Saïx told me something about that. Gotta be one of the cool kids and go by your middle name, huh, Lea?" her fingers bounced in air quotes around the name.

"It's not about being cool, it's- ugh, nevermind," Lea grumbled before shooting his brother a little death glare and muttering, "She didn't even know I was coming?"

"Didn't want to get her hopes up," he replied in his usual cool monotone.

Whatever comeback he might've had to that was swallowed in a grunt as he next suffered (quite visibly, in fact) a hug from her. He did not return the embrace. She didn't seem to mind or even notice. "C'mere, let me have look at you," his mother suddenly demanded as she pulled back and Lea's face scrunched up in displeasure as she grabbed it, tugging him down for closer inspection. After a few seconds of scrutiny, she smirked and declared, "Pretty Boy, mm! Both you and Saïx. You have me to thank for those good genes. And you're both so tall too! Dunno where that comes from, cuz you certainly didn't get it from me. You boys must be eating your Wheaties."

Now that she mentioned it, she was pretty short. About my height, in fact, maybe an inch or two taller. It was hard to be sure exactly in those heels she was wearing. But that did raise an interesting point now…

...how did such big men come from such a tiny woman?

The logistics of it had my mind boggling!

"And who's this cute lil thing?" she was now turning her gaze on me. Then to where my hand was still intertwined with Lea's and her eyes crinkled slyly. "Oh-ho, I see. This is the girlfriend."

I smiled shyly back before shooting Lea a quick, awkward glance. He stepped in to introduce me, "Mom, this is Elsa."

Still feeling rather out of place here, I sucked in a tiny, anxious breath before getting out, "It's so nice to meet you, Mrs-"

"God no, please, none of that 'Mrs' crap," she said dryly before grinning once more. "First name's fine, shortcake. Just call me Aranea. Alright, you're up."

...up? Up for what exac-

I squeaked as I too was suddenly assaulted with a hug. Just as abruptly, she was leaning back just enough to squint her eyes at me and tilt her head.

Ah. I see. My turn to be assessed and appraised like a piece of meat.

Well, I certainly hoped I passed inspection!

After a few tense seconds, one corner of her lips quirked up. "You two are gonna make absolutely gorgeous babies. So when are you gonna get on popping out my grandkids? Wait, don't tell me… there's already a bun in the oven."

"Mom!" Lea snapped, my face erupting into flames as he lunged to get between me and her.

There was most certainly not a bun in the oven! There wasn't so much as… as… as dough! The oven wasn't even, uh... preheating! No, trust me, my "oven" was one hundred and ten percent bunless, thank you very much!

Aranea snorted, "Calm down, was only having a lil fun. Just trying to make up for all those years of motherly teasing I missed out on."

A soft hmph from his throat. "Yeah? Well, who's fault was that?"

Her eyes widened slightly and a heavy silence descended over the cozy foyer we were all currently gathered in. Saïx directed a muted scowl at his brother. It went ignored, Lea idly inspecting his nails now and not looking the least bit sorry.

This visit? Off to a great start. Simply superb.

"Aranea?" a clipped, British accent suddenly came echoing from somewhere else in the house, thankfully shattering the long, uncomfortable lull. "Who was that at the-?" the owner of the voice emerged through one of the archways and the words died on his tongue as his eyes alighted on all of us. He had short, dirty blonde hair that was spiked up and intelligent, green eyes that were sharp behind his sleek, black-rimmed glasses. "Oh. I see you've begun the pleasantries without me. Saïx, my boy," he smiled, extending his hand, "a pleasure as always. Might I inquire as to who your comrades are?"

"The prodigal son returns home at last," Aranea wryly chimed in before Saïx could. "Iggy, it's about time you've met my second eldest knucklehead of a kid Axel and his-"

"Lea, Mom. Lea. Get it memorized!"

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lea," the man cordially stretched a hand out to him now.

He didn't take it. "It's something, alright…" he arched an unimpressed eyebrow, "...Iggy, was it?"

He gave a curt if a bit sheepish chuckle at that. "Ignis, if you would. And who is this lovely companion of yours?"

A beat.

Then I gasped, "Oh!"

It's me.

I'm the lovely companion.

Self-consciously clearing my throat, I supplied, "E-Elsa." I did take his hand when offered, blurting out, "And I'll have you know I'm completely and totally bunless."

...thank you, mouth, for that entirely unnecessary addition to the conversation.

His brow furrowed as he took his hand back. "Well... allow me to see what I can do about that."

Uh…

...was he propositioning me?

"Perhaps I can whip up a few rolls to go with dinner," he suggested, tapping his knuckles to his chin.

Oh.

He meant bun buns. Not-

Ahem. Nevermind.

"So," Lea spoke up once more, folding his arms beneath his chest as he fixed the man with a hard stare. "You're the orthodontist."

"Optometrist, actually," Ignis corrected. "By the by, when was your last eye exam? If you'd like, I could squeeze you in for a quick checkup sometime, free of charge."

A small, contemptuous huff escaped his nostrils as his eyelids drooped. "Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Ignis gave a bemused frown at that, but was saved from having to respond as Aranea inserted herself back into the conversation with, "Iggy, is that…?" She trailed off and the second Ignis glanced away from us to look at her instead, Saïx discreetly elbowed Lea, forcing a tiny oof out of him. Aranea grinned as she took in what Ignis was wearing, "It is. You old softie, you put on the apron I got you."

"I cut quite the dashing figure in it if I do say so myself," he gave a pleased little sniff as he stood a bit straighter and absently fiddled with the neck strap of said apron which had the words Gordon Ramsay is my bitch proudly emblazoned across its breast. That, plus the fact that I was just now noticing that he was carrying a meat mallet in one hand, suggested he'd most likely just come from the kitchen.

"Mm, I'll say," she nodded as she continued to eye him up and down appreciatively. But then her gaze landed on the meat mallet - more specifically, on the little gooey red flecks clinging to it. "Hey, did you start tenderizing the steaks without me? Told you I'd help with that."

"I'm loath to make a lady bloody her own hands," he murmured with a tiny smile, wrapping his fingers around hers and bringing them up to his lips.

Lea made a low noise deep in his throat that was half scoff, half gag. That earned him a firm shoulder check from Saïx while he walked past Lea to step closer to his mother and Ignis. As Saïx engaged the two of them in some polite small talk, Lea's expression twisted sourly and he started muttering something under his breath too quiet for me to make out. Seeing as how the others were preoccupied with their own conversation at the moment, I took the opportunity to once more take his hand in mine and ask gently, "Something you want to get off your chest?"

"Hm?" he distractedly hummed, still with a slight glower as his gaze remained fastened to the other three for a few seconds more. But then he snapped out of it and huffed out a sigh, fingers agitatedly ruffling at his hair. "Aw, nothing. I just don't trust it."

I tipped my head to the right. "Don't trust what?"

"Him," he hissed through his teeth, gesturing with his chin towards Ignis. "The whole fucking posh, namby-pamby Brit orthodontist act. Nice try, pal. Not buying it."

I shook my head with a snort, "He's an optometrist, Lea."

"Exactly! The jerk can't even get his story straight," he harrumphed. "Betcha he doesn't even know the first thing about corrective lenses."

"The man wears glasses," I deadpanned.

"All part o' the cover. Mark my word, that slimy sneak can't be trusted." As if sensing Lea's gaze on him once more, Ignis glanced up with a courteous smile and nod in our direction. "Yeah, keep smirking, you smug bespectacled bastard. I'm onto you," Lea mumbled low enough that only I could hear him, but pointed two fingers at his eyes before redirecting those digits at Ignis, who just blinked before returning his focus to Saïx and whatever it was he was talking about.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, groaning, "You're ridiculous."

Lea looked at me now, banishing the dark look and grinning softly. "Heh… maybe…" Giving my hand a quick squeeze, he then pulled me towards him and brought my arms up to hug his neck before slipping his own arms around my waist. Nuzzling his nose lightly to mine, he conspiratorially whispered, "Let's bail."

My head rocked back at that. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. This is a bust, El, so let's blow this popsicle stand. Slip out the door while their backs are still turned. Lookit what I still got," he removed one hand from my hip, shoving it down into his pocket before producing the car keys with a little jangle.

Only mildly surprised that his brother hadn't managed to recover those in their scuffle out front, I rolled my eyes, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What, ya mean Saïx? Eh, ditch him. Loser can hitchhike his dumb ass home."

I gave him a dull stare. "Still forgetting something else."

His lips pursed to one side as one eye squinted. Then it clicked. "Shit, you're right. Still don't have Saïx's code to start the car engine. Damn, guess that leaves us high and dry. Unless of course, you happen to know the code," he chuckled with a shake of his head.

Biting down on my lower lip, I averted my gaze.

"Wait… do you?" his eyes narrowed suspiciously at me. I wrinkled my nose and still kept my mouth shut. "You do! Crap, why didn't ya say so earlier?"

I gave a noncommittal shrug, still avoiding eye contact. "You never asked."

"Oh, for the love of… why would he trust you with the code and not me, his own brother of all people?"

Now I met his gaze once more, raising one eyebrow. "...maybe because he knows I'd never use it to steal his car while we're hundreds of miles away from home?"

He gave me a flat look. "...okay, just because it's true, doesn't make that any less of a low blow."

"Moonglow pear, you say?" Ignis's voice suddenly picked up, drawing our attention back over to him. It seemed Saïx had just gifted him with that small bag he'd been carrying, which one could reasonably assume was filled with the aforementioned fruit. Ignis had pulled one out and was turning it over in his hand for a closer look. "Yes, I've heard of these and have been meaning to try them." He studied it for a few seconds more, then his eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers, "That's it! I've come up with a new recipe!" With that, he bustled back out through the hallway he'd come in through.

Smiling fondly after him, Aranea then glanced towards the rest of us once more and gestured towards a different corridor. "Why don't we continue this somewhere more comfortable like the living room, hm?" She turned to lead the way and Saïx did not hesitate to follow. I cocked my head at Lea in silent question and his face scrunched up in distaste, but then with a grumbling sigh, he released my waist, took my hand and we trailed after them as well.

The living room was big and filled with a homey, tidy clutter. The far wall had a giant sliding glass door that led out onto a wooden deck that overlooked a reasonably well-kept backyard. A massive entertainment unit took up another wall, housing a big screen TV amongst the ordered chaos that filled the rest of its shelves. Across from it were a few armchairs and one long, very comfy looking couch. Said couch was currently occupied.

The two boys looked to be teenagers - highschoolers, by my guess. Neither of them glanced up as we entered the room, just continued to concentrate on their phones as their thumbs tapped and swiped at their screens. The blonde one with freckles was sitting upside down with his knees hooked over the sofa's backrest and seemed extra focused, licking one corner of his lips while his brow furrowed. The other guy with the black tousled hair, black shirt, black jacket, black everything had taken up the rest of the couch by sprawling across it, propping his feet up on the armrest. He was a lot more apathetic as he stared at his own phone screen, even though his thumbs continued to be a blur of activity. Maybe he was just in "the zone."

"Look alive and make room on the sofa, boys. We got company," Aranea told them, coming to a stop next to the coffee table and planting one fist on her hip as she eyed them both.

They neither budged nor took their eyes off their smartphones. The blonde one did however chime in with, "Bah, it's just Saïx. Saïx's not company."

Her eyes narrowed with a flat, "Wanna run that by me again, Prom?"

"Lemme finish! He's not company cuz he's family. Yes!" he whooped the last part with a tiny fist pump as something good had apparently just happened in his phone game. Already, his thumbs were back on the move across his screen as he tacked on, "And family means never having to give up primo sofa real estate."

"Aw, what a sweet, half-hearted attempt at sentiment," Aranea cooed with a bat of her lashes before scoffing. "Nice try, bucko, now scoot."

With a grunt, he flipped over to sit on the couch properly and shifted closer to his armrest to make room, all while still staying fixated on his game - rather the impressive feat, I might add. The other boy however remained exactly where he was. "That goes for you too, Noct," she patted a hand to his shoes.

"In a minute," he mumbled, eyes narrowing slightly on his smartphone now as his thumbs started tapping more furiously.

"Not in a minute, now," she insisted sternly. Still he didn't move so much as an inch, not even bothering to reply this time. Aranea rolled her eyes, "Look, I know you fancy yourself a prince round here and like to lounge about like that couch is your throne and this house is your castle with everything the light touches in it your kingdom. But if you're the prince, that makes me the queen, so what I say goes. That means move your princely ass!" With that, she unceremoniously shoved his feet off the armrest.

"Hey!" he scrambled not to fall off the couch altogether, catching himself and sitting up next to Prom. Gritting his teeth as he looked at his phone again, he then puffed out a sigh of relief, "Whew, still got the Devil of the Cygillan on the line." And just like that, he was sucked back into it.

"Ah, the mortal struggle between man and virtual fish," Prom sniggered, gaze still trained on his own phone.

Aranea scrunched up her nose, "You two playing that silly game again? What's it called… King's Kite?"

"King's Knight," Prom corrected, tongue once again poking out of the corner of his mouth as his thumb mashed at the screen now. "And we were, but then Noct decided to be lame and play his dumb fishing game instead."

"Ugh, lazing about like a couple of couch potatoes all day, doing nothing but staring at your phones for hours on end…" she grumbled, folding her arms together and shaking her head. "This is why neither of you boys have gotten laid yet."

I'll say this for Aranea... she seemed to have a rather, hrm… unique approach to parenting.

Prom frowned, "'Scuse you, I've just been scoping out my prospects, thank you very much."

"More like stalking," Noct snorted, squeezing one eye shut as he rapidly drew circles on his screen with a fingertip.

"Hey now, what Cindy and I have is beautiful and I won't have you cheapening it by making it sound crude and perverted," he shot back with a small hmph.

Aranea quirked an eyebrow. "...and Cindy would be?"

"My Goddess of the Gears," Prom sighed dreamily. Eyes still glued to his game, mind you.

Eyelids drooping, Noct clarified, "She works over at the Hammerhead Fuel and Garage."

Giving the ceiling a thoughtful squint for a few seconds, Aranea then blinked a couple times. "Wait, you talking about the blonde knockout? Oh, Prom, she's gotta be at least a whole second grader older than you and way more woman than you could ever handle."

"Pretty sure she has a thing for Uncle Gladio too," Noct smirked.

Making an indignant noise in his throat, Prom scowled and freed up one of his hands to wave in front of Noct's phone, blocking line of sight to the screen as he spat out, "You shut your whore mouth!"

"Shit, Prom, language!" Aranea snapped. As Noct used an elbow to knock Prom's hand away so he could salvage his game, Aranea puffed out an annoyed breath and turned to face us once more. "Sorry about them. These would be the rugrats… your lil brothers, Ax- Lea," she hastily corrected herself before jerking her thumb over her shoulder towards one, then the other. "Noctis. Prompto."

Right… I remember Lea mentioning something about his mother and her two-point-five kids. Did that mean that there was still another o-

TWHUMP!

The sound of a large throw pillow suddenly smacking Noctis in the face.

Courtesy of a little girl with brown eyes and short, dark hair who'd suddenly popped up out of hiding from behind the sofa armrest. She proceeded to shriek with laughter as she dashed off and made her getaway down a hallway, her cackling echoing off into the distance before a door slammed shut somewhere in the house.

Huh. Guess that'd make her the point-five.

Wide-eyed and clenching his teeth, Noctis snatched up his phone from where he'd dropped it on the carpet after the vicious assault and frantically swiped the screen a few times. Then he glowered, slamming a fist down onto a couch cushion. "My line snapped and he got away. Dammit, Iris, I'm gonna kill you!" he snarled, jumping to his feet and ready to charge after her.

"Hold it!" Aranea ordered and he froze before he could even take a single step. "You leave your sister alone and sit your butt back down, mister."

"But she-"

"Ah-ah!" she waggled a stern finger at him, then pointed down in a silent but firm command.

Growling, he threw himself into his seat once more, slumping down low and crossing his arms. "You all baby her too much, especially Uncle Gladio! She's such a brat!"

"Takes one to know one, eh Noct?" Prompto chuckled. Noctis shoved his shoulder hard and he shoved back before they both settled down and became engrossed in their phones again.

"Well?" Aranea prompted them, planting both fists on her hips now, which I took to indicate she really meant business. "It's not every day you meet your other long lost half-brother. Aren't you two gonna put away the phones long enough to at least say hello to Lea and his lil girlfriend, Elsa?" No response. Her right eye twitched. "Seriously, boys, turn off the phones and stick 'em down your pockets before I stick 'em up somewhere else."

Noctis was the first to comply, tucking his phone away with a tiny eye roll before tossing a hand up in a lazy wave towards us. "Hey. Nice to meet you."

Prompto on the other hand kept his phone out, merely taking a split second to shoot us a quick glance before focusing on the mobile device again with a, "He-" The word however got swallowed in a splutter as he did a double take at me, then hopped up to his feet so fast the phone went flying out of his hands. He fumbled to catch it and hastily pocketed it before stepping closer to me with a big grin and sheepish laugh, "He-he-hello there!" He cleared his throat and smoothed his hair, then continued more confidently, "What's shakin', Miss Breathtakin'? Name's Prompto, perhaps you've heard of me? I'm kinda legendary with the ladies around here." Insert wink and finger guns.

I just stared at him blankly.

What…

...was even happening right now?

A wry snerk from Noctis. "Yeah, legendary for being a totally tongue-tied bonehead around them."

"Shush, man, be cool," Prompto hissed back over his shoulder at his brother. "Just cuz you're already tied down, doesn't mean you hafta always ruin it for the rest of us!"

"Tied d-" Noctis began to echo before cutting himself off with a huff and a tiny glare. "Luna and I are just friends!"

"Who ever said anything about Luna? You're the one who brought her up," he singsonged back with a bounce of his eyebrows.

Snorting, Aranea moved to take a seat in the chair next to the far end of the sofa as she added, "You two lil lovebirds have been practically engaged since you were in diapers."

Prompto declared triumphantly, "Exactly! So zip it, Noct! Now where was I…? Ah, yes." He turned back to me, reaching for my hand to plant a kiss to the back of it with a debonair, "Enchanté."

A groan escaped Aranea as she facepalmed. "Prom, stop hitting on your brother's girlfriend."

"I don't see no ring, which means all's fair in love and-" the words abruptly died on his tongue as he looked past me and his eyes grew round, his face paled, and he gulped. Curious as to what had caused such a reaction, I glanced back myself to discover Lea looming behind me with the darkest look I'd ever seen to grace his face aimed directly at Prompto. "Uh, heh… L-Lea, w-was it? N-Nice to m-make your acquaintance," he squeaked out before darting back to his spot on the couch and using Noctis for protective cover.

Hiding a grin behind her hand, Aranea gestured towards the freshly freed up seating, "You all gonna keep standing in the hallway? Go on, take a seat already."

Lea continued to give Prompto the evil eye as he and I settled into the now empty half of the sofa with me next to Noctis. Saïx took the armchair to Lea's right and with that, a hush descended over the room.

...a very drawn out, very awkward hush.

Now don't get me wrong, I am no stranger when it comes to uncomfortable family gatherings. My parents and I were on very, very tentative speaking terms again and I'd recently been to a handful of uneasy dinners with them where silence had reigned supreme around the dining table. Of course, even before I'd ran out on my own wedding, back when I was still their perfect daughter that always did as she was told, even then the Fryse household wouldn't exactly have been considered warm, friendly and inviting. It was just the way my family had always been - cold and distant.

But this home felt different. Here, the quiet felt unnatural and wrong. This seemed like a place that was normally filled with chatter and laughter, making its absence now very unsettling. Especially with Lea in the room, who practically considered silence his arch nemesis and always felt the need to fill the void with his ramblings. In fact, until this very moment, I'd thought him physically incapable of keeping his mouth shut whenever there was a gap in conversation in desperate need of small talk. And yet there he sat now, slouched in the couch cushions, elbow on armrest and head propped up against his knuckles, lips clenched firmly shut and his pinched expression making it abundantly clear he would rather be anywhere but here right now.

I glanced past him and made eye contact with Saïx. He merely frowned, flicked his gaze meaningfully towards Lea before looking back at me again.

Saïx wasn't going to be the one to speak up first. Afterall, he'd already long ago patched things up with his mother and was on speaking terms with her again. Now it was Lea's turn. However, Lea needed to at least make some small effort on his part.

But I'm not sure exactly what Saïx expected me to do about that.

I hesitated, gnawing on my bottom lip for a few heartbeats. Then I lowered my gaze to where Lea's hand rested atop the cushion between the two of us. Slowly, I covered it with my own and he turned his head to look at me.

Alright, so… I've always heard about couples who are really close developing sort of this, I don't know… relationship telepathy after they've been together long enough, to the point where a single glance between the two of them can communicate an entire conversation. Time to see if that theory held any water.

I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders and fixed him with a determined, steady stare.

Talk to your mother. You hear me? Do it. Do it now.

He watched me blankly for a few seconds. Then one side of his mouth lifted and he gave me a tiny nod.

I blinked.

...did it work?

Had he actually received my otherworldly message?

His hand shifted to instead be the one on top of mine, giving it a gentle squeeze as the other reached over to graze my cheek with his thumb and tuck my bangs behind my ear while he bent to press a kiss to my forehead.

Gah, no, you sweet but oblivious dope!

What, did he think the situation was stressing me out and I'd been seeking comfort?

...which, to be fair, was not an unreasonable assessment.

Puffing out a tiny, irked breath through my nose, I firmly locked gazes with him once more and jerked my head towards Aranea a couple times.

Talk.

To.

Her.

Dork.

More blank staring from Lea. But then it finally seemed to click, at least if the way his face twisted into a petulant grimace could be taken as any sort of clue. I responded by narrowing my eyes at him. He relented with a low sigh and at long last shattered the quiet with a, "So… Mom…" he paused, frowning as he rubbed at the nape of his neck and struggled to come up with something to say. "...how do you… keep yourself busy these days?"

A growling huff erupted from Saïx as he directed a dull look towards Lea. "You should know. I've told you before."

"And I wasn't listening," Lea shot back through his teeth, brutally blunt and not seeming to care. He toned it back a bit however as his eyes settled on his mother once more. "So what… ya do the whole suburban housewife, minivan driving, pep rallies and bakesales running, soccer mom thing now?"

Prompto burst out laughing at that. "This is our mom we're talking about here, right? Please, you know how she is."

Lea glared daggers at him and he blanched, ducking down to hide behind Noctis once again. Looking away, Lea mumbled under his breath, "Oh yeah… know her super well."

"I'm a process server," Aranea piped up and all eyes turned to her. "Ya know… those people who'll find you on the street, hand you legal papers and go, 'You've been served!' I'm pretty damn good at it too. I take care of all the tough cases, you know the type… those squirrelly, shifty-eyed motherfuckers who bolt at the first whiff of trouble, thinking they can outrun me." She smirked now, "Hehe… love it when they try to run."

"Mom's earned a bit of a reputation," Noctis added with a tiny grin. "People call her the Commodore."

Aranea chuckled at that with a smug, "Stop, you'll make me blush."

"Huh," was all Lea said at first, pursing his lips to one side. Don't think he quite knew what to do with this information. "...sounds… fulfilling."

And with that, a crushing silence stifled the room once more.

Okay, so… that'd worked well.

Sort of…

I mean, it'd worked okay.

At the very least, it'd worked.

They'd talked!

...for a grand total of two seconds… but still, that was something, right?

Oh who was I kidding, this was a total trainwreck.

So then… now what?

Luckily, I was saved from having to figure that out by Ignis stepping into the living room just then, dusting his hands together as he announced, "That ought to do it for the moment! Now to let those steaks au poivre cook for a bit. Saïx!" The man in question glanced up at the mention of his name and Ignis went on, "If memory serves, I seem to recall you taking a rather keen interest in observing the night sky. Well, I'm a bit of dabbler myself and have recently acquired a new gadget to fiddle with. A telescope - the Ultros StarSeeker Reflector. It's in my study, would you like to come have a look at it for yourself?"

"The mark VI?" Saïx asked, already rising from his chair.

"The mark VII," he corrected with a smile. "150 millimeter. It's supposed to be the latest. Makes the moon seem so close, you'll think yourself to be standing on it. Boys," he now addressed Noctis and Prompto, "why don't you join us?"

"Already seen it. Pass," Noctis muttered, distracted by his phone once more.

Ignis cleared his throat, smile widening. "I must insist."

Prompto groaned, "Dad, can't we do it later? It's not even dark out."

"Alas, science waits for no man, nor do I. Elsa," his gaze landed on me now, "might I interest you in accompanying us as well?"

It was then that it dawned on me that Ignis was probably trying to give his wife some time alone with her (until as of twenty minutes ago) estranged son. Even as I opened my mouth to reply however, I felt Lea's grip tightening slightly around my hand. I hesitated.

I don't think he wanted me to leave.

Maybe I should have anyway. Maybe just a smidge of tough love was in order. Maybe it would have been for his own good.

However…

"I think I'm good, thank you," I politely declined.

With a small bow of his head, Ignis said, "Very well. Come along, boys!"

Heaving a heavy sigh, Noctis stood up and moved towards him. Prompto sprung up with a chipper, "Just a sec! I wanna snap a picture of this!" He darted past the two of us still seated on the couch, snagging Noctis by the elbow and Saïx by his sleeve and yanking them back over towards Lea. Then he fished out his phone before slinging one arm around Noctis and Saïx, forcing them to huddle in close and hunch down as he crouched to throw his other arm around Lea's shoulders. Awkwardly maneuvering his phone and pointing its camera at the four of them all squished together, he laughed, "Group shot of the four bros from different Joes but all from the same ho! Say cheese!"

As the flash went off, Aranea leaned forward in her armchair, her tone dangerously sweet as she asked, "All from the same what, Prom?"

"Aw, Ma, c'mon, you know I don't mean it! It was just for the sake of the rhyme!" he brushed off as he released Saïx and Noctis, freeing up that hand to tap at his screen and double check that the photo came out well. "Lea, dude, you so did not say cheese. I mean, look at th-" he glanced towards Lea (who he still had his arm around, mind you) and choked mid-word at the withering look he was giving him. Hastily snatching his arm back and jumping away, he turned to the others. "L-Let's go look at stars n' shit! Hell yeah constellations!" Then he all but blurred out of there with Ignis, Saïx and Noctis following behind him at a more relaxed pace.

"Seriously do not like that kid," Lea grumbled low as he scowled after him before looking back at me. More specifically, at my tiny grin I was rubbing my curled fingers over. He cocked an eyebrow, "...what?"

"Oh nothing," I whispered back with a shake of my head, trying to school my expression and failing. "It's just… well, he reminds me a little of you, is all."

He stiffened, looking outright offended. "You gotta be joking. That punk? We're nothing alike."

Said one upbeat, flirty goofball about the other.

My grin twitched wider as I merely shrugged, "If you say so."

Our brief exchange had me almost forgetting it wasn't just the two of us in here. Now as I glanced over towards Aranea, I gave her a timid smile. She smiled back, shifted in her seat and crossed her legs, but said nothing. Lea continued to avoid meeting her eyes, frowning off into space as his knee restlessly jiggled up and down while he held my hand in his lap, his fingers idly fidgeting with mine.

The quiet stretched.

I had to wonder if maybe I should have left with the others. If I weren't here this very second, would they be talking now? Could it have really made a difference? Honestly, I don't think it would have. Lea had already tried to start a conversation once. Sure, it'd been a rather feeble, halfhearted attempt at that, but still the effort had been made. And now he was done. He had no interest in doing it again and seemed perfectly content to go on stewing in silence. As for Aranea, I may have known her for less than an hour now, but even in such a short amount of time I could tell she was not someone who was particularly shy about speaking her mind. If she had something she wanted to say to Lea, I very much doubted my presence would have stopped her in the slightest.

I think the two of them were just… stuck.

In some sort of limbo with zero clue of how to proceed or handle this situation.

...should I try relationship telepathy again?

No, judging by the stubborn set to his jaw, it seemed highly unlikely at this point that any amount of mental nudging or prodding would push Lea into being the first one to speak up.

...but maybe a different target would be slightly more receptive to some subtle psychic persuasion?

I slowly turned my gaze on Aranea once more. With a tiny inhale and exhale, I hitched my chin and squinted.

Here goes nothing.

Speak to your son. Say something. Anything. Just talk.

A brief pause, then I winced.

Uh… please?

Musn't forget manners when trying to pierce the cosmic veil to telepathically coerce your boyfriend's mother!

That is, er… if it's not too much trouble, ma'am?

Gah, what if she thought being called ma'am was insulting?!

N-not ma'am! You're not a ma'am! I meant Aranea- no, too overly familiar… um… Mom? Dear god, no! Commodore? Yes, Commodore!

I almost saluted her for good measure, but thankfully caught myself before I did. That would have been silly!

...as if me attempting to psychically communicate with the woman weren't already silly enough.

Lea was right. I really was a friggin' kook.

Ah well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

Please, just… talk to him, okay? Talk to-

"So, Elsa…"

No, not me! Him! Him! For the love of… what, were our metaphysical wires getting crossed? Ignore me, talk to-

Ugh, forget it, I give up.

Consider my brief and not at all glorious career as a mystical telepath officially over.

She grinned at me as she continued, "...are you still a college student?"

"Oh!" I sat up a little straighter. "No… er, I mean, yes. I mean… rather, I've graduated. But… it wasn't for me. My major, that is. So I went back, and… and now it's a much better fit." A beat. Then I gasped, "Acting! That's my new… that's what I'm doing now! What I, ah… what I went back to college for," I breathed out an awkward little laugh.

Wondering why was I suddenly so nervous?

Oh I don't know… could it be that it was just now really sinking in that this was officially my "Meet The Parents" visit? I was in no way prepared for this! I mean come on, she was supposed to be focusing on Lea, not me! Crud, I just hoped I was making a halfway decent impression so far.

"You wanna be an actor, huh? Get into showbiz?" she nodded encouragingly.

Oh, we were still talking about me? We weren't done?

Fudge.

"Maybe… I think so…" No wait, that wasn't quite right. Lifting my chin and steeling my gaze, I said more firmly, "Yes. It's… something I'm actually quite passionate about. Both singing and acting. It's a childhood dream I hope that perhaps I might one day turn into a reality."

Her eyes crinkled and she nodded again. "Been in any productions?"

"Two. Well… rather, one and a half I suppose… I'm in rehearsals for my second show. It's only community theater mind you, I'm still learning," I tacked on shyly.

It occurred to me that maybe this was her way of reaching out to Lea. I mean, a common tactic for connecting with someone was talking about something they liked. And seeing as how I was his girlfriend, it stood to reason that Lea liked me. So maybe, in a way… talking to me was her trying to score points with Lea?

Gaining a bit of confidence, I went on, "We're putting on Rocky Horror Picture Show, what with Halloween coming up and all. I got the part of Columbia, which is a supporting role but still very exciting!"

"Oooo, Rocky Horror you say? The one with all the tight leather, fishnet stockings, and lacey corsets?" Her eyes shifted slyly over to Lea as she shot him a wink, "Betcha you're a big fan of your girlfriend starring in that."

Lea's face twisted in disgust, "Ugh, Mom, don't be gross about it."

For the record, he was a big fan of it.

A really, really big fan.

She chuckled at his obvious discomfort before her eyes suddenly lit up as a thought seemed to strike her. "Speakin' of Halloween… be right back," she smirked, quickly standing up and disappearing down one of the hallways.

"Quick, now's our chance, let's make a break for it!" Lea leapt up to his feet, but I used the hold I still had on his hand to yank him back down into the cushions next to me. He drooped his eyelids at me. I drooped mine right back. With a huff, he slumped further down into the sofa and straight up sulked.

It wasn't long before Aranea returned, now with a pair of stacked cardboard boxes weighing down her arms. She deposited them onto the coffee table with a heavy thud, blowing off some dust before turning them so we could see there was something written in sharpie on their sides. Aranea shifted the top one branded SAÏX off and settled it down next to the other box that had AXEL scrawled across it. Lea's glower darkened as he spotted that particular label.

Flipping the lid off that one, Aranea began rooting around inside. "Hm, lessee here… blankie?" she muttered, mostly to herself it seemed as she then shook her head and shifted more things around in the box. "No… binkie? No…"

"What are you doing?" Lea asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at her.

"What's it look like I'm doing? Going through a few odds and ends I kept from when you were a tyke," she grinned at him before pulling something out and holding it up. "D'aww look… baby's first arson!" In her hands was the charred and blackened remains of some sort of stuffed animal. She cocked her head slightly as she scrutinized the thing, "Think it used to be a rabbit… or maybe a piglet?"

"Tiger!" Lea snapped as he snatched the thing out of her grip. "He was a tiger and his name was-" he suddenly stopped, glaring at the mutilated little plushie for a second. Then he chucked it back into the box, grumbling, "Doesn't matter."

I however reached in to pick it back up for a closer look at it myself, brow furrowing as I turned the roasted to a crisp little feline over in my hands. "...what did you do to this thing?"

"Happened when he was four. Just happily tromped the doll over to the burning fireplace and tossed it in before I even realized what the lil snot was up to," Aranea chuckled wistfully before returning to digging around in the box. Next she was lifting out what looked to be a clay mold of a child's handprints as she snerked, "Can you imagine him ever being this small? Crazy." Then she was frowning at it, lightly scratching a finger at one blackened corner of the plaque as she arched an eyebrow. "Huh. Looks like you scorched this a bit too."

Shrugging, she set it aside before taking another look into the box, her face brightening. "Ah, and here we have Lea's masterpiece collection." She stuck her hands back inside it, this time retrieving a handful of crude drawings on slightly crumpled papers. To me, she said, "Ya know, he was quite the lil arteest! Coulda been the next Picasso if he'd just…" she trailed off, distracted now as something caught her eye on the top drawing. She squinted, "...is that a tree that's on fire?" Flipping to the next sheet, she blinked. Then the next. Then the next. "Yeesh, kiddo, you really had a thing for fire when you were a tot. Maybe I shoulda been more worried." Then she brushed it off with a bat of her hand, "Bah, you turned out fine!"

Rummaging around in the box a bit more, she gave a victorious, "Ah-ha!" before pulling out a thick stack of photos. She took a second to shuffle through a few of them before showing us one, "First day of kindergarten." I took it from her, seeing as Lea showed zero interest in accepting it himself. I couldn't help a small smile as I looked at it. He really had been an adorable child, almost ridiculously so. "Second birthday." I glanced up at her words to see her holding out another photo, which I gladly took as well.

She thumbed through a couple more photos before, "Oh, here we go." Plucking one from the bunch, her fingers gave it a satisfied flick before turning it towards us with a half-grin. "The whole reason I remembered to dig up this box just now: Halloween photos! Didn't he just make the cutest lil ninja assassin?"

He really did.

"Mom," Lea abruptly spoke up, his tone low and even and… something else that made the hairs on the back of my neck suddenly stand on edge. "...why do you have all this stuff?"

"Hm?" she hummed absently, already back to flipping through the photos.

There was a pause, then he quietly rephrased, "When did you have time to grab it?"

"Oh, I just-" she cut herself off, posture suddenly snapping straight as she grimaced slightly. Her eyes darted to Lea then quickly looked away. Putting the photos down on the coffee table, she cleared her throat and began again, "I took it all with me when…" Another pause, another frown. "...when I…"

"When you abandoned Saïx and me," he finished for her, the edge to his voice unmistakable now. "So… instead of taking me with you when you flew the coop… you took a box."

Uh oh.

"Lea, that's not…" she began, then stopped, lips pressing into a grim line and face pinching as she stared down at her lap for a second. Then she lifted her gaze once more, opened her mouth to speak but clicked it shut again with a tiny growl in her throat, clearly frustrated with herself for being unable to think of the right thing to say.

Her son on the other hand seemed to be having absolutely zero trouble finding his own words, still with a deadly calm to them. "So... what? After dumping Saïx and me like yesterday's garbage, you took the boxes just so you could put on a show that you ever gave a shit about us?"

She gave him a sharp look, her eyes flashing dangerously. "That isn't fair, I-"

"Fair?!" he was on his feet in the blink of an eye, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Nostrils flaring, his voice began to rise now, "No, what wasn't fair was you deciding you didn't want your goddamn kids anymore and leaving them behind to go off and start your new stupid, perfect life and your new stupid, perfect family filled with perfect little snot-nosed brats given to you by your fucking perfect orthodontist!"

Optometrist. Not orthodontist.

Should I correct him?

I decided against it.

(Rather wisely too, if I do say so myself.)

Standing up as well now, Aranea tried to argue, "It wasn't like that! I-"

"Then please! By all means, tell me what it was like!" he snarled back. Two fingers jabbed at his temple, "I'd simply freaking love to know how you rationalized this all away in that screwed up head of yours so you could sleep at night in your comfy, cushy tempur-fucking-pedic king-sized bed while Saïx and I got chewed up and spat out by the hellhole that is the foster system! Tell me, how the fuck is what you did to us okay?!"

"It wasn't okay! Shit, of course it wasn't and I'd never try to tell you that it was!" she yelled, her breathing heavy now as she lifted her chin slightly. "But… you have to understand, it was… I was still young and-"

Lea barked a cold laugh at that. "Young? Seriously? That's your go-to defense? You wanna talk young, Saïx was eight. For fuck's sake, I was six." He shook his head, sneering, "But no, you're right. You were young, so let's just forget it and continue sitting around getting all bogus nostalgic over a buncha meaningless crap in a box while pretending everything's fine and dandy and like you didn't royally fuck over our whole goddamn lives twenty years ago."

Shoulders tensing, Aranea shot back, "Damn it, if you'd just let me talk-"

"You had your chance to talk!" he shouted over her. "You've been talking nonstop since I walked through the front door and it's all been nothing but bullshit and rubbing my nose in your happy, cozy, picture-fucking-perfect lifestyle!"

"That's not- I never meant to-" she blew out an exasperated huff, pinching the bridge of her nose as she took a second to compose herself. Then, more softly if a bit strained, "Look, obviously I'm no good at this. But I'm trying here."

"Yeah? Well not hard enough," he ground out through his teeth. He took several deep breaths, hands clenching and unclenching repeatedly. When he at last spoke again, his voice was now hushed and thick with unshed tears, "Were you ever even sorry for what you did? Did you ever even have any regrets at all?"

Her eyes widened as her head rocked back. "Of course I had regrets-"

"No, you had a box! Just a dumb box!" he smacked said box off the coffee table, sending it crashing to the floor and spilling its contents across the rug. With that, he stormed over to the sliding glass door, throwing it open and stomping out onto the backyard deck.

As he slammed it shut again behind him, the sharp noise jolted a breath out of me that I hadn't realized I'd been holding. It was only then that I noticed how loud the pounding of my heart was in my ears, how tense my muscles were or how tightly my fingers were clutching at the skirt of my dress. Forcing myself to relax a bit, I released my grip and anxiously brushed out the wrinkles in the fabric as my gaze drifted towards Lea once more.

I could see him out there now, hands angrily ruffling at his hair as he paced back and forth. Honestly, his blow up probably shouldn't have come as any sort of shock. This was something that he'd been carrying with him for years now, an anger that had been building inside for two decades and in desperate need of release. It probably really hadn't even been a question of if he would explode, but when.

A loud scoff drew my attention over to Aranea who was also watching Lea, a little scowl twisting her features. Squaring her shoulders, she started marching over towards the sliding glass door grumbling, "Oh-ho, if you think this is over, you got another thing coming, you lil-"

"Wait," a new voice calmly commanded, freezing her in her tracks. I glanced towards where it'd come from to discover Saïx in the threshold to the hallway, frowning and arms crossed with one shoulder leaned against the inside of the arch. I wondered how long he'd been standing there unnoticed, how much of the fight he'd witnessed. Probably most of it. Pushing himself away from the wall and walking towards her, he reasoned, "You'll probably only set him off again. Allow me. Perhaps I can get him to cool down a bit first before coming back inside to continue your discussion more rationally."

Aranea's face scrunched up at the idea of having to back down for the moment but then she sighed heavily and stepped aside, letting Saïx pass. Soon he was outside with his brother, the door gliding quietly shut in his wake. Aranea stood there for a few seconds more, eyes narrowing as she watched them through the glass before turning away with a tiny hmph. "That knucklehead has more Reno in him than he'll ever know," she muttered sourly under her breath. Then she looked at me. "...excuse me, I… I need a minute." She stalked towards one of the other doors, pausing long enough to add over her shoulder, "Sorry… that you had to see that…"

"No, that's, uh… don't mention it," I said awkwardly, my voice small.

With a curt nod, she made her exit.

Peering outside once more, it unfortunately appeared like Saïx wasn't making any headway in pacifying Lea. Though the closed door muffled it, Lea was quite visibly yelling again as he gestured furiously back at the house. Saïx looked remarkably unruffled as he withstood the tirade and every now and again, I would see his lips move whenever he got a chance to squeeze in a few words, face expressionless as he did so. But if he'd intended for whatever he was saying to be soothing, it seemed to only be having the opposite effect as Lea kept bursting out into more impassioned rants. Though it was hard to tell, there was a slight twitch to Saïx's eye now that hinted at him getting more irked with each new outburst.

Finally, Lea just hotly tossed his hands up and turned his back on Saïx, kicking at the wooden railing of the deck. It seemed Saïx had had enough himself for he too turned away, pushing the glass door aside so he could come back in. As he pulled it closed with more force than necessary, he seethed, "I give up. Possibly you'll have better luck convincing that idiot to get his head out of his ass." Without waiting for my reply, he crossed the room in a muted huff and was gone.

I bit my bottom lip, hesitating for a heartbeat. Then I rose, hands smoothing up and down my dress as I slowly stepped towards the door leading out to the backyard. My hand reached out for the handle, stopping just short for a second as I inhaled and exhaled slowly. Then I grabbed hold, slid it open and stepped outside.

Lea was facing away from me, surveying the backyard as he bent forward slightly with hands braced atop the railing. A light breeze picked up, tugging at his crimson spikes and making them dance. By contrast, his whole body was very still, almost eerily so. His muscles were taut and there was a stiffness to his shoulders that was impossible to miss. His fingers squeezed around the railing to the point of practically turning his knuckles white.

No question about it. He was still very much pissed.

It was almost strange, in a way… I was so used to him always being such a boundless source of energy and joy. I'd only ever seen him get angry one other time and that was when Grandfather had tried to bribe him during that disastrous weekend with my family. Even then, it hadn't lasted long and paled in comparison by far to his temper now. It was odd seeing him like this. Unsettling even. But I understood. I knew Lea's mom had always been a sore spot for him, so I was actually almost kind of amazed things had remained civil for as long as they had.

In a way, it was maybe even a good thing he'd went off like he did. You know… cathartic. Better he have a chance to rant and get all those things he'd probably been wanting to say to her for years off his chest, rather than keeping it all bottled up inside to fester.

But now it was time to pick up the pieces, pull him back together and maybe possibly even get him talking with his mother again, hopefully in a more constructive way.

...but how to do that exactly?

I just stood there in a moment of silent uncertainty, staring at his back as I tugged and twisted at my braid. But the longer I watched Lea, the more my heart squeezed at the sight of him. At how dejected and unhappy he appeared, his raw emotions practically etched into every line of his body. Eventually, my feet made the decision for me and I took an almost instinctual step towards him. Then another, and another one after that.

When I was close enough, my hand seemingly of its own accord reached out to softly touch his back. As soon as my fingertips made contact, his whole body went visibly rigid, even more so than it already had been. I brought my other hand up to join the first and slid them slowly around his middle as I took one final step forward to hug him from behind, resting my cheek against his warm back and closing my eyes as I listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

It took a few seconds, but then I felt the tension in his muscles start to ease as he gradually relaxed into the embrace and my hold around him reassuringly tightened. I had to let go however when he abruptly turned towards me, his arms encircling my waist to hug me fiercely to him. My arms shifted up to wrap around his shoulders instead as he buried his face in my neck, inhaling deeply and exhaling a couple times. I could feel him trembling, but with each steadying breath he took it subsided little by little.

I wasn't quite sure what to say or do beyond holding him and tracing light soothing circles along his back, hoping he found it as comforting as I always had whenever he'd done it for me so many times in the past. I patiently waited and just assumed he'd eventually open up when he was ready.

When he eventually did speak, it was so low and muffled against my throat that I almost didn't hear it. "...sorry, El… if I scared you..."

I shook my head slightly, my fingers shifting up to stroke his hair as I murmured, "Scared? No. A bit startled? Maybe… Concerned? Definitely." I tucked in my bottom lip for a hushed moment, then asked, "...are you okay?"

At first Lea said nothing, his only reply coming in the form of squeezing me more tightly to him. We stayed that way a few seconds more before his hold loosened but didn't let go - just enough for him to straighten up and press his forehead to mine. His gaze was downcast and my chest ached at how miserable he looked. His lips parted once more but instead of answering my question, he grumbled, "What she did was wrong."

"It was," I said calmly with a single small nod.

"She doesn't deserve my forgiveness," he tacked on, still quiet but more firmly now.

I noticed tears brimming at the corner of his eyes. Moving my hands to cup his face, I gently wiped them away with my thumbs as I agreed, "She doesn't."

"Serve her right if I never spoke to her again," he gave a tiny scowl.

Again, I nodded. "It would."

Now his green gaze locked on mine, squinting for a second before he puffed out a heavy, bitter sigh. "...but you think I should talk to her, don't you?"

My eyes lowered briefly and I pursed my lips to one side as I tried to choose my next words carefully. Then I looked back up at him, "I think… that you've had your turn to speak your mind, so maybe... it might be the right thing to do to give her a turn as well."

Lea merely made a noise of derision deep in his throat, glancing away.

I used the hold I still had on his face to gently make him look at me again. "I'm not saying you have to let her off the hook. Nor that you have to see her side of things. Nor even that you have to listen to her really. But I believe letting her speak and say whatever it is she was trying to tell you… maybe it could do some good. For both of you. And then... " I paused with a thoughtful frown. "...well, I'm actually not really sure what then, but... maybe the way forward will be clearer once you've both had a chance to talk. You'll never know until you try. And it's at least worth a try, isn't it?"

His expression softened somewhat, but not completely. "...how very logical, insightful and sensible of you, Doctor Phil."

I made a little snort at that. "Why, thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment." The words had no bite to them and were more so just tiredly teasing. He then fell silent for a moment, seemingly mulling over my advice while still holding me against him, his thumb absently rubbing up and down where it rested against the small of my back. Then his face pinched slightly and he harrumphed. "...she never even said she was sorry for what she did."

"Maybe she would have if you hadn't kept talking over her," I lightly pointed out with a wrinkle of my nose.

He hummed a weak, almost inaudible laugh at that. "There ya go with that logic again." He then heaved another sigh, "...I dunno… I guess maybe I can go back inside and…" he slowly closed his eyes and grimaced, as if even the very idea of his next words turned his stomach. "...give this a shot. Chances are good though it'll just end up being the sequel to the earlier shitshow," he rolled his eyes.

I tugged his head down and got on tiptoe, murmuring against his brow as I pressed my lips to it, "I'd expect nothing less."

As I lowered myself back down onto my heels, Lea brought a hand up to graze his knuckle tenderly along my cheek, giving me that soft look of his that still to this day caused my heart to flip-flop and made it hard to breathe. Then his fingers trailed past along my jawline to cup the back of my neck as he bent down to kiss me, slow and thorough, sending a heat through me that made me melt from the inside out. When he at last pulled away, his voice was husky against my lips as he said, "Thanks, El... for coming with me today. Having you here during… It makes everything a bit easier."

Face hot and feeling a bit breathless, I cleared my throat and smiled shyly. "Happy to, uh… to help… in whatever small way I can."

He grinned, his fingers toying with the tip of my braid as he gazed down at me for a second longer before he planted a quick peck to my lips. Then he was releasing me, taking hold of my hand instead and tangling our fingers together. Blowing out a breath that flapped his lips, he muttered, "Right. Back into the fray for round two now, ding-ding."

"Maybe try not going back into this expecting a fight?" I suggested as I felt a sudden buzz from my phone in my pocket. I went on as I fished it out to check my notifications, "Never know, it could possibly even-" The words however got strangled in my throat as my eyes widened, I nearly dropped my phone and I gasped out, "Baby!"

"Yes, Cuddlebug?" he cooed back.

I blinked at him. "Wha-? No, not you. I meant Rayne."

Lea looked positively scandalized. "You have other Babies besides me?" He clutched a hand to his chest, "The betrayal."

"No, I- That's not- She's not-" I stammered out before giving up with a groan of frustration and then shoved my phone up against his nose, reiterating more desperately, "Baby!"

His brow furrowed as he took it from me, eyes quickly scanning the open text message before both eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Holy shit, Raindrop's gone into labor?! I thought she wasn't s'posed to pop that kid out for another few weeks!"

"Well she's popping it out now!" My spine snapped straight as a thought struck me. "Like… now now! While she's there! And we're here! But we shouldn't be here! We should be there, not here! Definitely not here! We-"

"Shh, it'll be fine, I gotcha," he gently shushed me, one of his hands gripping my shoulder and the other coming up to rest his warm palm against the side of my face. "I'll put the fam drama on pause and we can hit the road ASAP."

"...really?" I asked slowly, uncertainly. "...that would be okay?"

He gave a soft snerk and shrugged. "It's waited twenty years already, I think it'll be fine waiting a lil bit longer. 'Sides, it's not every day our friends are having a baby, we should be there."

I turned my head slightly, giving him some side-eye. "And I'm sure this in no way is you hopping on the first excuse you could get to procrastinate sorting things out with your mother like a mature adult."

"Nah, that's just a bonus!" he chuckled.

I fought a tiny grin. But then it swiftly faded, a crease forming between my eyebrows now as something else occurred to me. "But we're so far away… it took us most of the day to get here!"

"The way I drive, we'll be back in half that," he wickedly smirked, digging the car keys out of his pocket, tossing them up into the air and catching them with a wink. "Just leave it to me! Now c'mon, babydoll, let's say our hasta la vistas then make like a piñata and beat it!"

With that, he took my hand in his again, opened the sliding glass door and we hurried inside.

Author's Note:  We've had plenty of Elsa's fam drama by now, figured it was high time for some of Lea's fam drama too xD Plus we all know our fave Fire Boi can have a bit of a temper even if he doesn't let it loose often, so it was fun to finally have a excuse to REALLY show that side of him in this fic! Luckily our ICE Queen was around to COOL our FIRE boi's HOT temper... hehehehehe xD Anyhoo, I knew for a while that I wanted to do a chapter with Lea's mom and her new family, but I was mega stumped on which characters would play the parts. For the longest time, I wasn't sure if I was gonna include any of the FFXV cast in my story (except for the brief reference to Meteor Publishing and Vyv allllllll the way back in chapter 2 as to where Rayne works and who her boss is respectively) but then when this idea came up, it really was too perfect! Aranea is just the right amount of sass and kickass that could totes be a perfect fit for Lea's and Saïx's mom! She even TALKS a lot like Lea with similar speech mannerisms and everything, or so you'll notice if you rewatch her video game cutscenes (as I have multiple times while writing this chapter now lol!). The main struggle was that she has a tendency to be quite flirty in the video game, but seeing as how 4 of the 5 men in this chapter were her SONS, couldn't really have her doing that except for with Iggy xD Hopefully I still managed to capture her personality well enough! And of course, including 3 of the 4 Chocobros was a pleasure to write! Plus, I got to squeeze in SO MANY FFXV references this chapter, it felt ridiculous after a while, but I couldn't help myself xD And bonus: in case it wasn't clear in that one quick sentence that was tossed out, turns out Reno was Lea's biological dad! Which sucks a lil cuz that means Reno is deceased in this AU and I hate to do that to another one of my fave redheads... but ah well! Who knows, maybe he only faked his death all those years ago and he's still out there alive and kicking and wreaking havoc xD

Teeny fun facts: I wrote that Lea's new step dad was an orthodontist waaaaaaay back in ch15 before I even knew Iggy was gonna be his step dad, so when I was rereading that for this chapter, I was all "shiiiit, I can't make Iggy an orthodontist, ew!" xD Optometrist didn't seem THAT much better, but hey, at least the dude wears glasses - that's all ya need to become a licensed optometrist, right? xP At least the whole orthodontist-optometrist thing made for a pretty decent running gag this chapter haha! Also, the telescope was based off a real telescope model I found after some googling, just the original brand was named after some sort of constellation, I forget what (...Orion? maybe?). So I changed THAT to one of the constellations from KH3: Ultros! ...because it was the best sounding one for a telescope - sorry, no Cactuar brand telescopes in this story xP

No clues or hint word/phrase this time for what the next one-shot is gonna be about - given the kinda sorta cliffhanger I left his chapter off on, you can probably guess what blessed event is gonna happen next time xD Don't worry, I'll try to throw in a couple of surprises for you still that you hopefully won't see coming!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

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[buuttercup]

My laziness needs to end and this weekend needs to absolutely not happen. I do stupid things when I'm bored. I dangle my carrot in front of anyone I can as if that will make me feel okay. When I speak to anyone about B and I, I say I'm doing better than I am; I don't say we've fucked, obviously, because that's fucking laughable; I say I know I'll be able to find someone better for me, even though I don't think that's true; I say I'm never going back to him, even though I want to every day and every second. Everything I say is the antithesis of what is actually true. And that's fucking typical.

This new guy I've been talking to must find me so cringe, always posting vain photos and videos of myself now. I can't be bothered with what he thinks of me other than his opinions on my appearance but I want to see him again just to see. It's kind of funny how calculated and predictable it all is, my process of trying to heal after a breakup. I reduce myself every time. Feeding off attention from people that do not matter serves no one. Fucking randoms, promising things I can't keep, frivolous spending, painting myself to be more okay than I am. It’s all methodical.

I'm so fake on top of my shit and drowning in responsibilities I'm avoiding, but I don't really know what I'm waiting for? I wake up and run through a list of the things I need to take care of, but I'm still in the mindset I was when I was in 4th grade: convinced I will die at a young age, so why bother? I can't explain why I used to feel this way but I always felt I was meant to die at a young age, almost like I wanted that for myself. An escape to avoid the pain adulthood and wisdom bestows on you.

Myriad relationships with past friends and lovers have been reemerging as of late. I should be gracious of these people reaching out, as it comes from a place of love, but I actually hate it. These people from the past are all reminders of a version of myself that had less fortitude and self respect. That version of myself has admittedly become a victim of the harsh voice I speak to myself in. How stupid could you be? To be convinced that I found my one and only so early in life, right under my nose. I held onto him because I thought his lack of experiences would guarantee his loyalty and devotion. I thought, "I'll show him all that he hasn't seen or felt. I'll make him obsessed with me. I will secure my place in his heart." Naive and reluctant to the idea of him stepping outside of me. I am so tired of feeling not enough and making myself to be this diminutive version of myself that does not exist.

I have nothing to hide... except all the things I have to hide. Such as the shame and degradation I bring onto myself.

My life is sickeningly ironic at this point. Laughably, actually. My roommate has started up with a new boy. It's heart eyes, cuddling, and coffee made by 7am type of love right now. I'm not jealous. I don't want the guy. I'm not bitter about the fact that she keeps comparing her experiences with this guy with me and B. (I miss the ring 'me and B' had to it.) I'm really not. What I have been clinging onto however, are the parallels in her feelings and spoken words about this guy in comparison to my guy. Memories of excitement and lightheartedness can only be recalled as though it was another person living through them. I can't imagine myself boo'd up, laughing, secured... enamored with someone at all. Much less B. It's like, who was that that was living through all that sweetness? The irony lies in me knowing that that sweetness is what I'm holding onto. They are my favorite scenes from my favorite movie that I keep rewinding. Experiences unique to me n B. Although I'm broken, I can't dismiss the love and care B showed me. There’s a reason why I stuck by him for as long as I did, and there's a reason why I was more than happy to for the rest of my life. To make myself ashamed of the love I experienced with this person is wrong of me to do. I won't lie; it does hurt to see her so happy and nonetheless compare my happiness and optimism to what she feels. I promised to myself that I wouldn't project any of my own negativity and cynicism onto her.

This season isn't about he and I. It's about me.

Every moment I spend not working or working out feels like a waste. Even when I’m deep in my most depressing and lonely thoughts, I feel like I should be working out.

I think sick things. I think sick things to convince myself to be okay with what he did or.. the exact opposite.. to convince myself to banish this person from my heart forever. I asked him, when did you do this? Where? Did you show yourself? Either situation feeds into my insidious thoughts. If he showed himself, he shared his beauty and had that connection with someone else. They saw him and he saw them. I try to put myself in his shoes in that moment, I think, "well at east if he showed himself, I know human tendencies and that everyone looks at themselves during most of a video call, right?? At least he was probably looking at his own dick part of the time?? Yeah, at least he wasn't entirely focused on another body during that entire time.." The other option is that he wasn't on cam, and that is was only her. Still shit. To think of him being so primal and lusting for other parts, another body, anther person, kills me. I am too obsessed with the superficial connections he had with other people, but that is only because I feel THAT IS ALL I HAVE TO OFFER! I fooled myself into believing his lack of experience would minimize his hunger for other women, because I assumed he didn't know what else was out there. I assumed he would see me and have me and that that would be enough. We told each other about our past; I was his first serious girlfriend, I thought at the time, so I felt safe in the delusion that I wasn’t competing with memories of someone before me. I ransacked all parts of him in search of safety and fidelity. Nothing I thought about him was true.

And yet, I’m the I am still so hungry for him. He is more than his beautiful exterior; I crave his voice, his comfort, pragmatism, and his warmth. I have never given love an honest go like this. All my time spent with him was always sweet; I never felt blessed in my life, but I felt that way with him. I am convinced I won't ever be able to find what I found in him in anyone else. The narrative that there is only one person made for us is naive and impractical, but I really do feel that way with him. He checks my social media often; I know that. I am scared for the day it all ends because I know that when that day comes, I will not be in the same place. I will still be waiting. Perhaps it's my self cruelty speaking for my whole self, but I honestly believe I will always be waiting for him. I thought I'd be the same way with Leo. I was scary scary obsessed with him. Hastily convinced that this is the person for me; there are still times I think that... but all those fallacies are crowded out the second I think of B. Am I missing being loved or and I missing being loved by this person? How could I have aggrandized someone so small and immature? Who am I even talking about?? All of them.

Hearing of my mother's heartbreak is more painful than listening to my own. I don't think B has any idea of the ripples of pain he's caused around me. When I speak to my mom, I hear the hopeless romantic in her. She is waiting for this guy to prove himself in ways my father never could. She speaks about he and I as if she knows and wants for us to get back together again. She is waiting for a grand gesture, as was I. She is waiting to see if this guy will prove to be different, in ways my father could never be. I think she wants that just for my own sanity, so I don't go off to asume every man will only disappoint me. It's too late for that. Although I already believe that of men, part of me is still holding out for this person. Why was I robbed of my happiness and future experiences with this person??

I get so bitter when I start to think of everything I missed out on with B. Every relationship I see makes me think of what could’ve been. I'm like, that fucker didn't even get to see me dance, get to feel me grind on him while we were out, he didn't get to feel me eat his ass and suck him raw like I wanted, he didn't get to see me actually dolled up in that dress I saved for just him, he didn't get to feel me fully, we didn't get to vacation together, he didn't get to have the full me. Is that why this all happened? I get so angry at all that he didn't get to experience with me, as if it's my own fault that he's not trying as hard as I want him to be. A larger part of myself is convinced that he didn't get to experience these things with me because he didn't deserve to. I am so ready to put myself on display, to serve myself on a platter. The second I am made to be the fool, I carry the blame on my back as if it was my own faults that put us here. I feel this is the only way someone will see me and want me and only me. This will never be true; it's not like I want this to be my narrative, I really think it is though. If I'm not waiting for B to be at my door, I'm waiting for the day to be fully healed; neither seems reachable. Am I feeling this way because he is actually the one that is meant for me or because I've never been betrayed to this degree, and I'm yearning for an absolution? Way beyond the clouds is where I'll find my answer, by the time my head is light and empty enough to float high enough to find these answers, I think it will be too late. Every day, every second I have to fight myself to call him, to tell him to come over, to let him know about his secured spot in my heart. I can’t do that because I know it’s not true. It was not true with Leo, and although I know it’s unfair to compare B with L, both are in the same category; undeserving of me. A part of me wishes I could rush his growth so that it would alleviate some of the shame I might receive from getting back with him but I know that’s selfish. More of me wants the whole process to be rushed because I believe what we had was unique and beautiful and that it was the security that he and I deserved. The idea that he still wants me too makes it all worth it. I will be taken for granted again if that were to happen though. My feelings of heartbreak aren’t unique; I know I have felt this way before, and I might feel this way again.

I feel the ghost of his hand on my waist all the time.

#screwdriver diaries #paletas #i hope he stopped checking my blog tho