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parkitaco · 11 months

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"Mike," Holly huffs, standing over him with her arms crossed, "You're doing it bad."

Mike glances up from where he's sitting on the sidewalk in front of their house, covered in chalk and sweating. "Thanks," he says sarcastically, as Holly kicks her shoe at the drawing he's been half-heartedly creating on the ground. "You're the one who wanted to do this, remember?"

"You're hogging all the chalk," Holly whines, collapsing onto the ground and tossing an arm over her eyes in despair. Mike scowls; anyone who thinks he's dramatic has got him confused with the wrong Wheeler. "And you're not even doing it good."

Mike sighs, glancing down at his half-completed chalk drawing of a bunny, per Holly's request that there be more fun animals, Mike, it's too boring otherwise. She has a point - all his drawings have turned out sort of blob-shaped and ugly. "You do it, then," he says sourly, shoving the box of slightly broken chalk in her direction, and she grins all teeth at him.

Mike pulls his phone out of his pocket, grimacing when he sees the time. With Nancy off at college, he's been getting stuck on Holly-duty more and more often, and he's still got a solid three hours this morning before his mother gets home. Not that Holly's bad company, necessarily, though her incessant criticism certainly isn't helping her case. But it's summer, and Mike had had some vague plans of maybe going to the lake today, and hopefully dragging Will along with him. And besides, Holly's almost nine years old. She shouldn't need full-time looking after. Probably.

As if he's somehow read his mind from afar, Mike's phone buzzes with a text from Will:

hey :)

how's holly duty

Mike smiles, glancing up at his sister, who is currently scribbling out his misshapen rabbit drawing with a stick of red chalk, tongue poking out between her teeth as she concentrates on utterly destroying his attempt at art. It's hard to have authority over someone who knows you're a loser, he texts back, as Holly finishes scribbling out the bunny drawing and moves on to one of his earlier drawings.

don't call my boyfriend a loser :(, Will replies, and Mike's grin widens.

To be fair holly said it first, he types, and a piece of chalk hits him square on the forehead. He yelps and glances up from his phone, scowling at his sister. "Ow!"

"Stop texting Will," Holly says sourly, "and draw with me."

"Who says I'm texting Will?" Mike demands, snatching up the piece of chalk Holly had thrown at him. "And you said I was bad at drawing."

Holly stays silent, staring him down until he reluctantly leans over and starts drawing again. "I know you're texting Will because you have the dumb look on your face," she says, "And it's not fun if you're not drawing with me!"

"My face isn't dumb," Mike mumbles, but he goes back to drawing anyway. Maybe- fish are probably pretty easy to draw, right? He draws a circle with a triangle on the end that looks vaguely fish-like, and then sets about filing in multicolored scales.

Holly starts talking again, babbling on about whatever little world she's drawing at the other end of the pavement, and Mike nods along absently, doodling little circles around the slightly wonky-looking fish and praying that the sunscreen he'd hurriedly sprayed on before going outside is enough to protect his frighteningly pale skin from the blazing sun overhead. It's barely noon, but it's already getting hot, and the sidewalk is in direct sunlight with no trees around to shield him. Holly seems unbothered, though Mike can already see the bridge of her nose pinkening, and he'll undoubtedly get a lecture from his mother lately about taking proper care of his baby sister and whatnot. Even though Holly is literally not a baby, and Mike is pretty sure that when he was nine he was perfectly capable of putting on sunscreen.

It's a welcome relief, then, if a little surprising, when a shadow falls over him, and Mike jumps, dropping his chalk and raising a hand to shield his eyes as he glances up at the person standing over him. When he sees who it is, his entire body relaxes, a slow smile stretching across his face.

Will matches it, offering a little wave as he surveys the situation; Mike, covered in chalk and doodling multicolored circles all over the sidewalk, with his sister five feet away frantically scribbling out his earlier drawings. "Hi," Will says, amused, and Mike waves back, grinning a little sheepishly. "Are we having fun?"

"Hi, Will!" Holly chirps before Mike can answer, popping her head up and smiling brightly. "Mike is being a bummer," she informs him seriously, and Will laughs.

"Is that so," he replies, eyes flicking to Mike, and he nudges Mike's knee with the toe of his shoe.

"No," Mike replies sourly, giving Holly a scathing glare, "I'm being super nice, actually."

Holly is unperturbed, sticking her tongue out at him and going back to drawing, and Will laughs again as he sinks to the ground in front of Mike, crossing his legs beneath him and leaning back on his palms. He looks good like this, warm and tan in the summer sun with a teasing twinkle in his eye and his white t-shirt tucked neatly into his jeans.

"Hi," Will says again, low and soft, reaching forward and tugging at the collar of Mike's t-shirt until he leans forward for a quick kiss. In his peripheral, Mike watches Holly pull a face of disgust, and actively decides to pretend he doesn't notice. "I like your drawing," Will says, glancing down at the fish Mike has been slaving away at, and Mike flushes, whining in embarrassment and scooting away.

"Shut up," he grumbles, reaching for a fresh piece of chalk and halfheartedly filling in one of his circles with purple. "You're the artist, not me."

"Hey, I was being serious!" Will says, laughing lightly, "It's cute."

Mike presses his lips together, giving Will a scrutinizing look. "You're cute," he mumbles, which isn't quite the comeback he'd been looking for but is still, unfortunately, very true, and Will brightens, shooting him a brilliant smile.

"Hey, thanks," he replies, and leans over to steal the chalk out of his hand. "Can I draw too?" he asks Holly, who glances up from where she's drawing a mustache and goatee onto Mike's poor attempt at drawing a cat.

She looks Will up and down, weighing her options, and then nods once, shoving the box of chalk in his direction. "Don't break any," she chides.

"I won't," Will says seriously, placing a hand over his heart like he's swearing it.

Mike rolls his eyes. "You've already broken like half of it, Holly," he says, reaching for a blue piece and doodling another circle near his fish.

"That's why we can't break any more!" she says shrilly, which is a fair enough point. Mike lets it go.

Will smirks, leaning over and sketching out a few gentle lines on a blank stretch of sidewalk. "When does your mom get back?" he asks, as the lines he's sketching gradually take the shape of a much more realistic-looking fish than the one Mike had drawn.

"Like, three maybe?" Mike says with a grimace, pulling out his phone to check the time again. Tragically, it has been less than fifteen minutes since the last time he checked. "She has to do grocery shopping and then yoga, I think. I don't know, I wasn't totally listening."

Will snorts, picking up a piece of blue chalk and drawing gentle, wave-like lines around the two fishes they've drawn. "Okay," he says, chalk-dusted fingers brushing over the back of Mike's hand gently, "But you're free tonight, yeah?"

"Yeah," Mike confirms, "Why, did you want to do something?"

Will nods, filling in little white crests on each of the waves he's drawn. "Yeah. The lake, maybe? I don't know, I just want to hang out with you."

It's impressive, how easily Will is able to make Mike's entire chest fill with butterflies with a single phrase, especially such a mundane one considering how long they've been dating. He bites down a shy smile and nods as normally as he can manage, though he's pretty sure Will can sense the giddiness radiating from him anyway. "That sounds nice," he says, and then, because he can't help himself, "We are hanging out right now, though. In case you hadn't noticed."

Will rolls his eyes, lifting a chalk-covered finger and booping Mike's nose lightly, undoubtedly covering his face in green chalk dust. "I did notice," he says, jabbing his finger at him again, "But- alone, I meant. Sorry, Holly," he adds, glancing over at her apologetically, and she sticks her tongue out at him.

"Mean," she whines, and Mike rolls his eyes.

"Don't dish it out if you can't take it," he tells her, and she scowls, maintaining eye contact with him while she draws a giant red X directly over one of his earlier drawings.

Will's eyes widen. "Cold," he mutters, and holds his fist out. Holly bumps it dutifully and goes back to drawing.

His eyes flick back to Mike, and the corner of his mouth ticks up as his gaze darts over Mike's face. "You have chalk on your face," he informs him, looking like he's trying very hard not to laugh, and Mike scowls, lifting a hand and scrubbing at his face with the back of it.

"That's your fault," he grumbles, and Will makes a fake-sympathetic face as he scoots closer and bats Mike's hand away, raising a still green-tinged hand to wipe at his face. Mike lets him, leaning into his warmth, even as he says, nose wrinkled, "Listen, I can't see my face right now, but I feel like you're making it worse."

Will grimaces, and his hands tragically pull away from Mike's face as he surveys his work. "A bit, yeah," he acknowledges. "I kinda just spread it around."

"Idiot," Mike accuses, and Will grins all teeth, tilting forward slowly like he's falling into Mike's gravity before closing the rest of the distance in one swift motion and stealing another quick kiss. "Idiot," Mike says again, and leans in for another.

"Love you too," Will replies cheerily when they part again, and Mike shoots him the finger before remembering that there's a child present and quickly hiding it behind his back.

"I saw that," Holly says anyway, as she finishes whatever she's drawing and glances up at him.

"No you didn't," Mike says matter-of-factly, and Will elbows him.

"Don't gaslight her," he reprimands, and Holly points at him and nods.

"Come here," she demands, despite the fact that Mike and Will are sitting less than ten feet away from here. "I wanna show you what I made."

Mike wants to tell her to say please, or something, or at least take a slightly less bossy tone with the person who is literally in charge of her for the day, but Will is already scooting over to her, peering down at her drawing with genuine curiosity, and Mike has no choice but to follow. It's a little infuriating and all too endearing, how nice Will is to Holly, and most people in general. He makes people feel important. Mike in particular.

Holly's drawn a rainbow, Mike sees as he clambers over to sit beside Will, hooking an arm around his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. There are little multicolored hearts all around it, complete with white clouds at either end, and Holly looks way too pleased with herself for someone who's basically just drawn a bunch of lines, but whatever. It's probably better than Mike could do.

"It's for you!" she chirps, grinning wide, and Will huffs a surprised laugh, hand absently coming to rest on Mike's knee. "Because rainbows."

"Aw, Mike," Will laughs, tilting his head back to look Mike in the eye, "Did you teach her that?"

"No," Mike says, squirming closer to him and grinning, "Nancy, probably. She keeps sending me all these lists of queer resources and shit."

Will hums a laugh, thumb tracing gentle circles into Mike's knee as he reaches for his phone. "This is very sweet, Holly," he says sincerely, and she blushes as he snaps a picture. "Thank you."

"You should take a picture of Mike's fish, too," she says seriously.

Mike frowns. "I thought you hated my drawings."

"Not the fish!" she says, and does not elaborate, which- yeah, sure. Mike will take what he can get.

"Here, you take it," Will says, passing Holly his phone, and she hops excitedly to her feet and shuffles over to the other end of the sidewalk to snap the photo.

Mike settles more comfortably onto Will's shoulder, enjoying the solid warmth of him even under the burning summer sun. "You know there's a twenty percent chance she's going to break your phone," he murmurs into Will's ear, still half-hugging him from behind, and Will lifts a hand to rest over Mike's where it's pressed against his side, threading their fingers together.

"She's like four feet tall," Will points out, "she can't break it any worse than I already have."

"You'd be surprised," Mike mutters darkly, and Will laughs, tilting his head to the side and pressing a soft kiss to the side of Mike's face. Mike leans into it, a smile creeping onto his face despite himself.

Holly flounces back over, dropping Will's phone unceremoniously into his lap and resuming her previous position amidst the chalk drawings. "You guys are gross," she announces, as Will presses another kiss to Mike's temple.

"You made a drawing for us, though," Mike points out.

"Doesn't mean you aren't gross," she says matter-of-factly, and Mike supposes it's kind of hard to argue with that. "You have chalk on your face, by the way."

Mike splutters something incomprehensible, and Will laughs quietly, slinging an arm around his shoulders and grinning up at him. "It's okay," he says seriously, "I like your face."

"I like your face too," Mike replies teasingly, leaning in to rest his forehead against Will's.

"Gross," Holly says again, and the sun keeps shining.

#happy pride <33 #consider this a mini reparation for the soul crushing angst of my last fic . at least until i finish the next chapter #byler ficlet #mike wheeler #will byers #holly wheeler #st

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zapreportsblog · 9 months

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↱ ties that bind ↰

➘ summary : shoto discovers that his father has set him up into a arranged quirk marriage

➘ shoto todoroki x reader

Shoto Todoroki sat in his room, his thoughts as tumultuous as the storm outside. Rain hammered against the windowpanes, echoing the turmoil that raged within him. He had always known his father, Endeavor, was controlling and manipulative, but he had never imagined the extent to which his father would go to shape his life.

A letter lay before him, the contents of which had shaken him to his core. It had arrived earlier that day, delivered by a stern-faced messenger. As he unfolded the letter, the words within seemed like a cruel joke, a twisted scheme he could scarcely believe.

"Dear Shoto,

By now, you are aware of the extent of my expectations. It is with the utmost intention that I reveal a reality that will forge our legacy further. You are bound by a Quirk Marriage to (Y/N), a young woman with exceptional capabilities.

This union is not merely personal but strategic. (Y/N)'s quirk, one of reality warping, is an asset that aligns perfectly with our ambitions. I expect you to fulfill your duty as my heir and cooperate fully in the forging of this bond.

Endeavor."

Shoto's hands trembled as he reread the words, his chest tightening with anger and disbelief. He had heard whispers of forced marriages among powerful families, but he had never imagined he would be ensnared in one himself.

His father's quest for dominance was evident in this calculated move. To think that his father would so callously dictate his life, even down to his relationships, filled Shoto with an indignant rage he had never felt before.

Yet, despite his fury, a surge of curiosity tugged at his thoughts. Who was (Y/N)? What kind of person could his father manipulate into such a situation? Were they a willing participant, or were they as much a victim of Endeavor's machinations as he was?

As the rain continued to lash against the window, Shoto's mind raced with questions, uncertainties, and a burning desire to unearth the truth. The reality of his situation was laid bare before him, and he knew that whatever lay ahead, he would face it with a determination to forge his own path, free from the shackles of his father's control.

Determined to uncover more about the person who had been drawn into this unwanted union, Shoto grabbed his coat and headed out into the rain-drenched streets. He needed answers, and he wasn't going to wait any longer to find them.

As he arrived at the address provided in the letter, his heart pounded with a mixture of apprehension and resolve. The building before him was modest, its appearance contrasting sharply with the grandeur he was accustomed to. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door, waiting for a response.

The door creaked open, revealing a young woman with (h/c) hair and eyes that shimmered with surprise. Her features held an air of innocence, but there was a depth to her gaze that caught Shoto off guard.

"Hello? Can I help you?" she asked, her voice soft and cautious.

Shoto cleared his throat, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions within him. "Are you (Y/N)?"

She nodded, her curiosity evident. "Yes, I am. Do we... know each other?"

Shoto hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "My name is Shoto Todoroki. I received a letter... from my father."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened in recognition, and her expression shifted from curiosity to understanding. "Ah, I see. So you're... the one."

Shoto raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "The one?"

She stepped aside, inviting him into her humble living space. "Please, come in. We have a lot to talk about."

As Shoto entered, he took in his surroundings—a small, cozy apartment with touches of personalization that reflected (Y/N)'s taste. They settled in the living room, and (Y/N) began to speak, her voice steady but tinged with a mixture of sadness and determination.

"(Y/N), (Y/N) (L/N), that's me," she began, "and yes, I am part of this quirk marriage, just like you. My quirk is reality warping, a power that I never asked for. Your father approached me with an offer—a partnership that, in his words, would benefit both of us and align with his ambitions."

Shoto's jaw tightened, his anger flaring anew as he listened to her recount the situation. "So, you're here against your will as well."

(Y/N) nodded, her gaze meeting his with a mix of resignation and defiance. "Yes. And I've spent my days wrestling with the reality that my life has been manipulated for someone else's gain. I didn't choose this path, just like you didn't."

Shoto's heart clenched at the weight of her words. Here before him was a young woman who had been entangled in the same web of control, a victim of Endeavor's ambitions just as he was. And yet, in her eyes, he saw a determination to break free, to reclaim her agency.

As their conversation continued, Shoto found himself drawn to (Y/N)'s strength and vulnerability, her willingness to share her story despite the pain it held. In that moment, they were two individuals bound by circumstances beyond their control, but they were also two individuals who had the potential to reshape their destinies.

As the rain continued to fall outside, (Y/N) and Shoto forged an unexpected connection—a connection that would lead them down a path of defiance, self-discovery, and, ultimately, the chance to break free from the chains of their forced union.

Over the next few weeks, Shoto and (Y/N) continued to meet in secret, their shared experiences creating a bond that neither of them had anticipated. The more they spoke, the clearer it became that they were kindred spirits, united by their determination to reclaim control over their lives.

As they wandered through the city one day, raindrops clinging to their umbrellas, (Y/N) shared her dreams and aspirations, painting a picture of a life she had envisioned for herself before her quirk marriage. Shoto listened intently, his heart softening as he saw the fire in her eyes, the same fire that burned within him.

"(Y/N)," Shoto began, his voice hesitant yet resolute, "I don't want to be a pawn in my father's game any longer. And I'm guessing you don't either."

(Y/N) nodded, her gaze unwavering. "You're right. We didn't choose this, but we can choose what comes next."

Shoto's lips curled into a determined smile. "I've been thinking. If we can't change the past, maybe we can change the future. We can find a way to break free from this quirk marriage, from our fathers' control."

(Y/N)'s eyes lit up, hope kindling within her. "You mean... defy them?"

Shoto nodded, his resolve unwavering. "Exactly. We can forge our own paths, on our terms. We have quirk powers that are uniquely ours, and we can use them to shape our destinies."

As they spoke, their determination grew, fueled by a shared purpose and a desire for agency. They hatched a plan, a risky one that involved revealing the truth behind their quirk marriage to the world, exposing the manipulative actions of their fathers. It was a move that carried immense risks but offered the promise of liberation.

Days turned into weeks as Shoto and (Y/N) meticulously planned their next steps, all the while nurturing their growing connection. Their discussions ranged from serious strategy to lighthearted banter, their shared moments a balance of support and camaraderie.

The day of their revelation arrived—a press conference that would shatter the façade created by their fathers and set them on a course towards self-determination. With the world watching, Shoto and (Y/N) stood side by side, their hands entwined, a visual representation of unity against the chains of manipulation.

"(Y/N), are you ready?" Shoto asked, his voice steady but his heart racing.

(Y/N) smiled, her grip on his hand firm. "Ready as I'll ever be. Together, we'll show them that we won't be defined by their plans."

As they stepped onto the stage, the cameras flashing around them, the weight of their actions hung in the air. They spoke with unwavering conviction, exposing the truth behind their quirk marriage, the lengths to which their fathers had gone to control their lives.

The press conference marked the beginning of a new chapter for Shoto and (Y/N), one defined by their own choices and aspirations. Their revelation sent shockwaves through society, challenging the norms and expectations that had once held them captive.

As the rain continued to fall, the two of them stood united, facing a future of uncertainty but also hope. And in that moment, amid the storm, they were not just two individuals, but a force that defied manipulation and embraced the power of their own wills.

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theerurishipper · 5 months

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I feel like it is not talked about enough how bad Ladybug decision was in betraying her one partner Chat Noir in the ephemeral episode. Like I was mega shocked to the point I was hoping from the following episodes if it will be brought up because Wow was that messed up. And Luka disappointed me was I surprised not really but he really was allowing Ladybug to go forward with the plan lol.

I remembered talking someone online about this but their response was like it's not like he knows what the harm done how was he affected by this. I don't really get it is it because she's the MC she's exempted?

In this, the season about Marinette keeping secrets. In this, the season that has Marinette admit she'd be upset if Chat had secretly revealed his identity to anyone (Hack-San). In this, the season that reiterates over and over the importance of secret identities.

In this the season where Marinette only tells her best friend so that she could have a confidant and only after she proves herself capable of fighting off akumatizations. She wanted to reveal Chat Noir's identity to someone who, as far as she knows, he doesn't know. Without telling him.

And that's just... completely brushed aside. I mean when I rewatched the episode, I actually couldn't believe it. Ladybug doesn't respect Chat in this episode. Like at all.

It took me a few days and then it hit me she could've just asked him straight up. I've become so accustomed to Marinette's convoluted approach to everything that my mind doesn't even attempt to make sense of her actions anymore. She's confusing.

You're so right anon. It baffles me why no one talks about it? Like yeah, she ended up not doing it, but not for lack of trying. And she only stopped because she saw time go wonky, not because she realized that she shouldn't betray her partner.

And the excuse that he's not affected by it doesn't to me. I don't believe in thought crimes, but come on. He has the right to know what she was going to do. It wasn't a stray thought that popped into her head, she was going to do it for real. She had it all set up. Luka in the sewers, watches aligned, all that was ready, and the only reason it didn't work out was because of time shenanigans. That's not something you keep from your partner or act like it's not something he deserves to know. You own up to that shit, because you broke your partner's trust even if they don't know it. It's like cheating and then going "it doesn't hurt them if they don't know about it!"

I don't believe that Marinette should be punished or whatever for this. I don't think she's evil or bad. But Chat Noir has the right to know, and she should tell him if she values him at all. That's how I feel about it.

And also, call out Luka for going along with it with very little in the way of protest. He was also perfectly fine with breaking Adrien's trust. He has a tendency to enable Marinette in this way that I wish was addressed, at least a little.

Thank you for your ask!

#ML Salt #ML Writing Salt #ML Writers Salt #ML Fandom Salt #Marinette Salt #Ladybug Salt #Asks #Meta #My meta

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leiawritesstories · 7 months

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1778 (My Soldier Boy)

Rowaelin Month, Day 28: Wartime Sweethearts AU

A/N: this might just be the most American thing i've ever written lmaooooo 😂😂 so here's the context: the fic is set during the American Revolutionary War, which took place from 1776-1781. Rowan is a soldier in the Continental Army (the American side) and Aelin is the only daughter of a Loyalist (sympathetic to the British) family. and they're star-crossed lovers, yay!! posting this partially as a lil birthday treat to myself but mostly for you, hope you enjoy :))

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: archaic language (i'm a nerd lol), mentions of war, old outdated traditions, mentions of battle, brief mild angst, flirting

enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

16th July 1778

Heart of my heart,

I write this in secret, barely able to make out my letters by the faint light of this single candle. I apologize for the sloppiness of my script; my governess would have a fit if she were to see this chicken scratch. Of course, I would then retort that she ought to have taught me to read and write in near darkness, as that is the more useful skill these days.

A few words, my love–we are leaving in three days.Yes, leaving! Mother has only said that it was what she and Father thought best, given the current…unrest. I am perfectly capable of reading the unspoken words. We are leaving because they fear what our neighbors might do while we sleep. We are leaving because the English are so hated here. We are leaving because nobody has seen or heard from my brother in months. Nobody save me, that is. I know where Aedion went, and I know what he is doing.

If you love me, Rowan, please send word that my brother is safe, that he is well clothed and has some form of roof over his head. Please. It will calm my nightly worries at least a small bit.

I do not know where we will go, only that we cannot make a scene of our leaving. We must pretend that we are only going into town like we typically do, except that our cart will be full of our belongings, rather than grain and butter to trade. I suspect we shall attempt to head east, towards the port at Baltimore, and from there we shall attempt to book passage on a ship. Father seems convinced that returning to England is the best course of action.

I do not want to leave.

They do not know that, nor do they care. It breaks my heart to admit it, but they do not. They expect me to keep quiet and obey. I have heard them discussing the possibilities of our lives once we return to Mother’s family estate in England–marriage. My marriage. To some titled landowner’s spoilt son, who gives not a whit what I want or who I am as long as I can give birth. I refuse to subject myself to such a fate.

Rowan, my love, I write this both as news and as a warning. I will not silently accompany my parents in their hasty retreat. I cannot abandon my brother in the middle of a war, nor can I leave you, the other half of my soul.

I will be waiting for you, my love. I swear it.

To whatever end,

AAG

Heart in his throat, Captain Rowan Whitethorn marched in step with his regiment up the muddy road leading into Baltimore. The bustling port city was largely unmarred by the war that continued to rage on, continuing to serve as major sea access for traders and soldiers alike. As he and the men that called him their leader entered the city proper, Rowan breathed a short, soft sigh of relief. They had two weeks of leave, unless they were called back into battle, and he fully intended to use those two weeks to the fullest.

“Enjoy your leave, men.” He saluted. “We shall regroup here in two weeks.” The blue-jacketed men broke ranks and ambled into town, most of them probably dispersing to the nearest pleasure house for a good strong drink and as many hours with a woman as their few remaining coins could buy. Rowan didn’t begrudge them their pleasure.

After years of war, they all needed whatever solace they could find. As did he.

Fingers instinctively wrapping around the small, precious bundle of letters in his jacket pocket, Rowan strolled towards the calmer part of town, the residential section not so crowded with soldiers on leave, traders, merchants, shouting vendors, and all the rest of the noise, chaos, and diverse cast of characters that populated a thriving shipping town like Baltimore. He glanced at the street markers as he walked, searching for the one with a blue stripe painted around it.

There.

Pulse hammering louder than gunfire, he turned down that street and walked past tidy clapboard houses interspersed with the occasional grocer, butcher, baker, and seamstress. He was certain every single one of the handful of people he passed could hear his thundering heartbeat, but none of them had said anything to the young man whose ragged blue jacket marked him an officer in the Continental Army who was walking up their quiet street like it was perfectly normal for him to do. One motherly lady had simply offered him a smile and a “thank you, son,” which had struck him right to the heart.

He emerged into a busier street, full of shops and taverns and public houses, the businesses bustling but not crowded with soldiers and sailors like the cheaper taverns down by the wharf were. Eyes scanning the signs, Rowan walked up the side of the street. The building he was looking for appeared suddenly in front of him. A brightly painted kingsflame flower adorned the pub’s wooden sign, its carefully wrought petals the work of a singular artist. An artist Rowan knew as well as his own heartbeat.

With his heart in his throat, Rowan walked into the pub. Immediately, a peal of soft, faintly raspy laughter caught his ear, and his attention snapped to the bar at the back of the softly-lit, cozy space. Behind the well-worn oak bartop, her golden hair tied back with a blue rag that he recognized as his own old shirt, stood the woman who owned every last shred of his heart.

Aelin Galathynius glanced over towards the door, and the whole sky lived in her vivid eyes.

Tin clattered against the bar.

Surprised grunts arose from a table full of stocky, gray-haired farmers.

And with a rush of air and a strangled gasp of his name, Aelin was in his arms, tears glittering in her eyes, warm and solid and real and clinging to him as if her life depended on it.

He was here.

Rowan was here, whole and healthy and standing on his own two legs in a much-patched blue jacket and dirt-stained trousers and battered boots, and his eyes were on her alone.

Aelin flew across the pub floor and all but leapt into her soldier boy’s arms, clinging desperately to him as if he would vanish unless she held him tight. She buried her face in his shoulder and drew in a deep lungful of his scent, the faint trace of mountain pines clinging to him even beneath the layers of sweat and grime. Hot, salty tears of joy leaked into his shirt through a tear in his jacket’s shoulder.

She felt his deep, familiar chuckle rumble beneath her ear. “Why are you crying, my love?”

“I’m crying,” she sniffled, raising her head to meet his adoring gaze, “because you smell so bloody awful that my eyes are watering.”

He tipped his head back and laughed, loud and unrestrained. “God above, I missed you.”

“I missed you more,” she returned, tracing her thumbs along the sharp juts of his cheekbones. “Every day felt like the longest one yet.”

“I’m here now,” he murmured in the soft voice he only used for her.

With tears pooled in her eyes, Aelin leant an inch forward and kissed him, her soldier boy, with all the pent-up fervor of the last several months. She’d been so terrified when her parents announced that they were leaving the Colonies, afraid that she would be uprooted from the life she’d come to love and forced to marry some stuffy lord and shut away in a manor house forever. The very idea that she would be forced to leave Rowan, her love, and Aedion, her brother, without knowing whether either of them would make it back to Baltimore unharmed was enough to disrupt her sleep. She had hardly dared to hope that her desperate escape plan would work until she stood on the pier and watched her parents’ ship depart without her on it.

Every long day of pouring pints of beer for rowdy sailors, handsy soldiers, and disruptive drunken no-goods was worth it to have her soldier boy back in her arms.

“Where–ah, Rowan!” Breathless, Aelin poked him in the ribs, pretending to disapprove of the promising way he kissed her throat. “We’re in public.”

“Let’s fix that, shall we?” He set her down onto her feet, caught her hand, and grinned. “I believe I need a bath, my love. Could you help me with that?”

“You are incorrigible,” she laughed. She pecked a quick kiss on his lips and led him out of the pub and down the streets, turning into a quiet neighborhood and leading him up the front steps of a tidy little brick cottage with a blue front door. “Please be kind about the mess.”

“I’ll show you a mess,” he whispered into her ear, far too tempting for his own good.

She flushed, her cheeks staining bright pink. “Rowan!”

“Aelin,” he mimicked. They were safely inside the house, so he looped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. “I’ve been dreaming of you for months, love.”

“And you’re going to bathe before you act out any of those dreams, my love.” Giggling, she ducked out of his embrace and led him down the short hall to a washroom. “The tub is full, but it might be cold.”

“I don’t care if the water is cold.” He shrugged off his jacket and stepped out of his boots. “It’s a hell of a better bath than we get in the army.”

She sighed fondly. “I’m still going to boil some water.” He made to protest, and she placed her fingers over his mouth. “Ah-ah, soldier boy. Let me spoil you. Besides, the hot water is half for your filthy clothes.”

“Fine,” he acquiesced. He shed the rest of his dirty, worn clothing and climbed into the tepid bathwater, groaning quietly as he sank into a proper bath for the first time in too long. “Join me, love.”

“Soon.” She kissed his forehead and dropped a washrag and a bar of soap into the tub. “When you stink a little less.”

His playful growl followed her all the way out to the front room.

Following the bath–where she had indeed joined her soldier boy and taken his mind off the weight of war for a few moments–and a hearty dinner, Aelin exchanged her regular blouse and skirt for a soft cotton nightdress, braided her hair, and settled into bed with a lantern lit on the side table and a novel in her hands. Rowan was in the washroom; the faint splashing of water indicated that he was scrubbing out his uniform like he insisted he wanted to. So she opened her novel to the page where she had last left off and lost herself in the tender romance unfolding amidst the pages. She was so absorbed in the novel that she didn’t notice the mattress shifting as Rowan climbed into the bed and settled down beside her.

His soft, low chuckle drew her out of the novel-world. “Good story, Ae?”

“Wonderful,” she murmured. Reaching the end of the chapter, she placed the bookmark, closed the book, laid it aside, blew out the lantern, and tucked herself into his side, her head against his chest.

“I missed you,” he whispered after a peacefully quiet interval, stroking one hand idly up and down her back.

“And I you.” In the faint moonlight, her eyes met his, months of pent-up yearning and uncertainty glossing their turquoise depths. “I am sorry I didn’t write more.”

He soothed her worry with a gentle kiss. “I would likely have found you before your letters found me. ’Tis the life of a soldier.”

She hummed in agreement. “On that note…when did you last see Aedion?” Her older brother, whom she loved dearly but whose rashness she did not ignore, had vanished from the Galathynius home early last spring, leaving no indication of where he was going or why. Aelin alone had an idea of what he had gone to do, because he had confided his wishes to her. He had gone off to be a soldier in the Continental Army, but his unit were scouts, which meant that he could be anywhere between Philadelphia and Yorktown.

Rowan exhaled a long, controlled breath. “The last time our paths crossed was in September, at the camp outside Newport. He mentioned going south, but no details.”

“South.” Aelin rolled the idea over in her mind, forcing herself not to consider the harsher implications. “Was he…how was he?”

“Healthy, as far as I could tell, and tired, but so are all of us soldiers.” Rowan ran his hands along Aelin’s tense shoulders, encouraging her to relax. “He said to give you his love and that he’ll do unspeakably horrible things to me if I hurt you.”

Aelin laughed. “Now that sounds like Aedy. Too protective for his own good, he is.” Idly, her touch trailed along the slope of Rowan’s shoulders, tracing the new scar that slashed from his right shoulder down towards his pectoral muscle. “Tell him that I will return the unspeakably horrible favor if either one of you does anything stupid.”

“Indeed I shall.” Laughing softly, Rowan pulled Aelin flush against his chest, her heartbeat atop his, and kissed her. She sighed into the kiss, threading her fingers into his overgrown hair.

“I don’t want you to go back,” she murmured after they had separated.

He swallowed thickly. “We both know I must.”

“I know.” Her voice was a fragile thread. “I’m keeping you all to myself for the next two weeks, though. It’s only fair.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, my wildfire.”

She smiled tenderly at him. “I love you too, my soldier boy.”

Mid-November, 1778

Aelin,

I apologize both for the shortness of this note and the fact that it took me so bloody long to write it. There is something I must tell you, and I can only hope that you hear it from Rowan rather than me and my paltry excuse for a letter.

We are marching to Savannah. Intelligence has it that the Redcoats intend to advance upon the city, and we cannot let the stronghold go without a fight.

I cannot promise that I will be able to write for any amount of time, and as much as I hate to do this, I leave you all my affection. I will stay as safe as possible, that I can promise. The moment I am able, I swear on my blood that I will come to you, and if possible, that I will bring Rowan.

Stay strong for us, dear sister.

Yours,

Aedion

The short note had reached her in late January of 1779, after three and a half months of ever-increasing tension and worry spurred by the grim reports coming up from the South. Before he left in mid-November, the same time Aedion’s letter was dated, Rowan had revealed that his unit was headed to Savannah to reinforce the troops already there. He had been confident that, with the extra reinforcements, the Army would be able to stave off the British–if not all on their own, then at least long enough for the shipment of French troops to arrive.

Just before the New Year, the newspapers reported Savannah’s defeat.

Since then, all Aelin had received was silence. No letters, no notes, nothing listed in the papers, no weary soldiers showing up on her doorstep. The fact that Rowan’s and Aedion’s names remained out of the papers was but a small measure of comfort; all too often, fallen soldiers’ names never made it onto the listings.

The cloth tying back her hair was black now, the only outward sign of suffering she would allow herself. The people who came into the pub noticed her quiet demeanor, the way her usual vivacious cheer was dampened, and passed quiet condolences to her across the worn oak bartop–a squeeze of the hand, a mourning mother’s shared tears, a word of comfort, a “thank-you” from someone who rarely spoke those words. It lifted her spirits a bit, but not much.

Every night, she trudged home to her quiet little house, cradled a small watercolor portrait of Rowan–done a year ago, it was the only portrait she’d ever convinced him to sit for–stared down into his painted face, and refused to let her captive tears fall. Though her heart and soul ached for her soldier boy, though her sleep was disturbed by nightmarish imaginings of what could have happened or could be happening to him, she refused to let her tears fall until she knew his fate for certain.

If nothing else, she owed him--and the child just beginning to stir inside her womb--that fragile hope.

~~~

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waltwhitmansbeard · 2 months

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chapter three

She throws herself into her work. It’s all she can think to do. It’s a hard pivot from the checked-out mess she’s been these past months, but if waking before the sun and working until she passes out long after it sets is what it takes to not think about what is barreling down the pike at her, then that’s what she’ll do.

And there is work to be done: Pyrah is still more or less in shambles after Thordak’s devastation, and with their neighbors in Vasselheim suffering such public demolition of their own, no one is paying much attention to the tiny druid village in the middle of nowhere. Closer to home, the people of Zephrah are starting to chafe under the pressure of the countless refugees that found their way to the Summit Peaks after that reanimated titan corpse ransacked half of Vasselheim; the druids of the Abundant Terrace sent hundreds of fleeing citizens through tree trunks during the siege, and a good number of them ended up here, far from their homes that have since been destroyed.

Then there’s the matter of the Council. Word spreads quickly that the Voice of the Tempest is no longer catatonic in her bedroom, and it doesn’t take long before communications start coming from Emon requesting her presence. Keyleth knows what they want. She doesn’t want to give to them. So she adds it to the pile of Things She Will Not Acknowledge and pushes on.

Everywhere she goes, ravens follow her. It’d be funny, if humor were a thing she was capable of these days. They circle above as she walks through town and perch outside the nearest window of whatever room she’s in. They’re silent, most of the time, until she’s been up too late or gone too long without eating, at which point she gets a rumbling caw of reproach.

Fuck him. Just absolutely fuck him—ravens? Babysitting her wherever she goes? What the shit is this? Everyone wants her to move on, to heal, to get over it, but she’s carrying a dead man’s baby and being haunted by birds who don’t approve of the way she’s taking care of herself and the fucking Council won’t get off her back—is this healing?

If her neighbors find the sudden influx of black birds in Zephrah unsettling, they don’t say anything about it. Rather, she notices a small uptick in visitors to the little shrine to the Raven Queen constructed less than a year ago, the one Keyleth has yet to go back to. She can’t imagine what they’re doing there—Zephrah isn’t exactly a religious town—but even though absolutely everything grates on her nerves these days, she can’t deny the begrudging appreciation that at least the work he put into making that thing isn’t going to waste.

So she and her ravens go to work, supervising the construction of makeshift housing as the refugees wait for their homes to be repaired in Vasselheim and organizing the collaboration between Zephrah, Vesrah, and Terrah to deliver aid to Pyrah. She goes to meetings and stays perfectly on task, and when she’s done she goes home and accepts whatever work will occupy the biggest possible chunk of her brain. She wears loose clothes, even though she’s only just starting to show, and she figures out a script she can follow to avoid answering questions with any kind of substance. She affixes her face into something neutral, pleasant, even, and at night, she falls asleep in a bed that feels cavernous, suffocating and cold.

She survives. It is what she is so very good at, after all.

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chaotic-super · 8 months

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For Her Sake - Chapter 16

Read For Her Sake on AO3 here!

Lena’s starting to think that she might be in a little over her head. She’s not really spent that much one-on-one time with a child before, not when said child’s parent isn’t close by in case of an emergency anyway. It’s making her nervous to think about the fact that she’s supposed to be the responsible adult here. That’s her. She might be the CEO of a major company but taking care of a child, she’s not adult enough for that.

Lori seems to be completely unaware of the ongoing freakout happening for Lena though, just holding onto her hand and skipping happily along the path of the park. She also seems to be unaware of the slow build-up of sweat that’s accumulating between their hands, or at the very least, just doesn’t care.

It’s a beautiful day out and Lena doesn’t spend a whole lot of time outdoors so as they meander through the open space, Lena forces herself to try and enjoy it, she might be panicking and unsure of herself but she’s been working on bettering herself for a while and this is the perfect opportunity to prove to herself that she’s reaching some of the goals she’s set for herself. She’s already reached at least one by being someone another person trusts with their child, even if it was just in a moment of emergency.

The wind brushes across Lena’s face in a tender caress that eases her into taking deep breaths that help her to ground herself and remind her that Kara is a woman that is willing to do whatever it takes to ensure her daughter a life where she is happy and healthy so if she trusts Lena to take care of Lori, it’s because she’s capable of doing just that.

When the lake comes into view, Lori’s speed picks up and she tugs on Lena’s hand with more strength than Lena ever thought a four-year-old could ever pack into her tiny little body.

“Slow down, slow down, the lake isn’t going anywhere.” Lena laughs, her tone light as she keeps a steady grip on Lori’s hand so she can’t run off from her.

“But Lena, I wanna go see the duckies!” Lori keeps pulling at her hand but Lena doesn’t let up, her head twisting around to take a look around the park. She doesn’t know the area well but she has been here a few times before.

Lena stops for a moment, her eyes squinting as she peers through the trees as Lori begins bouncing on her toes beside her, all of her excited energy finding an outlet in her movements. “Hold on, Lori. Just let me see if there’s a…aha!” Lena redirects Lori away from the path that leads towards the lake and is shocked when Lori starts stamping her feet.

“Lena, no!” Lori pulls against Lena’s hand to try and either get away from her or to drag her towards the lake.

It shocks Lena, she has never seen this side of Lori before, she’s always been a mild-mannered, excitable little kid, the sweetest of the sweet just like her mother. That being said, she is a child and if there’s anything kids are known for, it’s having the occasional tantrum.

Lena’s eyes pin on a bench just off of the path and in a quick move, she scoops Lori up and takes the needed steps to get over to it and plonk her down onto it before sitting beside her. “Take a few deep breaths, Lori, and then I want you to tell me what’s got you so upset, ok?”

Lori tries to get up off the bench but Lena holds her hands, keeping her close but allowing her to climb to her feet if she doesn’t want to be sitting. Lori chooses to stay sitting when she realizes she can’t get away, frowning all the while.

“It’s perfectly ok to have big emotions, Lori, but it’s not ok to shout at people like that so can you tell me why you’re upset?”

Lori shrugs her shoulders, angling her body the opposite way to Lena, not looking her in the eyes and barely listening to her, just letting big crocodile tears stream down her face and swinging her feet since she’s too little to be able to touch the floor with her feet while sitting down.

“We can sit here as long as you need, little darling, I’ll stop pestering you to talk, we can simply sit here and enjoy the beautiful trees and the butterflies over on those wildflowers growing beside those bushes.” Lena points to the wildflowers, smiling slightly when Lori’s head snaps up to try and see the butterflies Lena is talking about.

She keeps her word though, her lips stay tightly sealed as Lori’s attention goes between watching the butterflies dance between the blooming flowers, their wings flapping in a delicate rhythm that makes Lena think back to the days when she used to fence back in college, the swift, precise movements she practised over and over, the rigidity and grace nothing short of freedom for her back then.

It’s clear that Lori isn’t too happy that she’s got to sit here rather than going to the lake but she does as she’s told, sitting nicely to the point where Lena lets go of her, sure that she’s not going to do a runner. Her arms fold across her chest in an adorable way as she pouts but after a couple of minutes, she does what Lena was hoping she would do, she speaks.

“I’m sorry, Lena.”

“Thank you for apologizing. Do you know why you got so upset?” Lena implores her to keep talking, a kind smile taking shape on her lips.

Lori pauses before speaking again. “I was mad.”

Lena nods. “It’s ok to be mad sometimes, Lori, we all get mad. What’s important is that we still behave, even when we’re mad. Next time, all you have to do is tell me you’re mad and we can talk about it and fix the problem. Do you know what won’t fix the problem?”

“Stamping my feets.” Lori looks down at her feet like they’re the ones to blame.

“That’s right. We can use our words and we can use them nicely and figure out how to make everyone happy. Now, why were you mad?”

“Wanted to go and see the duckies and you didn’t let me.”

Lena hums in acknowledgement. “I see. Well, I wish you had said something because then I could have told you that I wasn’t saying no, I was just going to make a pitstop to get us some sandwiches so we could feed the duckies out crusts. That’s ok though, little darling, now we’ve spoken, we can do better next time, huh? I could have said something earlier and you could have told me you were feeling mad. Want to make nice?” Lena holds out her arms, offering a hug, and Lori takes the bait, launching herself into her arms and nodding against her chest.

With the little bundle in her arms, Lena relaxes. She can do this. She can keep Lori alive until she takes her back to her mom later and she can handle the struggles that come with taking care of a young child.

Admittedly, she is kind of happy that Lori threw her little tantrum because she remembers being Lori’s age and being too terrified to express any kind of negative emotions like that because she would have been severely punished so taking care of Lori gently with understanding is helping her to heal her soul a little, to show herself that she will never do what her family did, she can break the cycle of abuse and be a better person than they are. She has to.

After a minute, Lori pulls herself away from Lena and Lena takes that as her cue to get up and offer her hand to Lori. She takes it and jumps down from the bench.

“Alright then, Miss Lori, are you ready to go and get some sandwiches, find somewhere nice to eat them and then go and feed the duckies the crusts?”

“We can’t eat with the duckies?” Lori asks, her voice back to its usual softness and completely lacking the fire that Lena got a taste of before.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, we don’t want the duckies trying to take our share of the sandwiches, do we?”

Lori shakes her head. She might want to go and see the duckies but she is not one to share her food when she doesn’t have to. She’s very similar to her mother in that regard.

With that agreed, they head over to where there is a little café perched between some trees if they detour off and to the right of the lake. It’s just a tiny place, one so small there are only two tables inside of it and another three outside but that’s good enough for them. Lena was originally planning on taking the food away and maybe finding a nice tree to sit beneath but seeing the tables, they might as well stay here.

“Would you like to sit inside or outside, Miss Lori?” Lena gives Lori the choice, another thing she was never given as a child and something she wishes every child could have since she’s lived through the suffocating alternative.

Lori peers between the wooden benches and tables outside and the cool red chairs inside and makes her choice. “Inside!”

Lena is glad Lori chose the seats inside, the ones outside would have left them both in the sun and while Lori would probably be ok, she’s got very delicate pale skin that she’s fairly certain can burn just from looking at a crayon-drawn sun with a smiley face.

“Inside it is.” Lena smiles and guides Lori to the door.

They are instantly greeted by the woman behind the counter. “Hello there, ladies! What can I get for you?”

Lena scoops Lori up and props her on her hip so they can look at the menu and soon enough they are sitting at one of the two tables waiting on their meals. The woman behind the counter, Vivian, handed Lori a colouring sheet and some crayons to play with while they wait for their sandwiches.

It’s safe to say that Lori is no longer being a stroppy little madam because her feet and kicking excitedly under the table as she colours in a picture of a little cottage in the woods. When she looked up at Lena with a sweet smile and so nicely asked for a milkshake, she just couldn’t say no. When she saw the size of them though, she did have to put her foot down ad say that they would share it because there’s no way she can give Lori back to Kara after inducing a monster-sized sugar rush.

Lena thanks Vivian as she puts down the massive chocolate and caramel milkshake between them armed with two straws.

“Gee, this looks good, doesn’t it Lori?”

Lori nods happily, abandoning the crayons and going right for her straw, a curly one that makes her grin even wider.

Vivian beams at the pair. “She looks just like you.” She remarks before tucking the tray she carried the milkshake over on beneath her arm and waltzing away before Lena could process what she said, never mind actually reply to it.

Lena just shrugs, she’ll correct her if she says anything else. Her eyes grow wide seeing how far into the milkshake Lori has gotten by herself in just the few seconds she’s been distracted. She grabs Lori’s straw and guides it away from her. “Slow down there, little darling, you’re going to fill up on milkshake and not have any room left in your tummy for your sandwich if you drink it too fast.”

Lori, to Lena’s surprise, doesn’t try and argue, just nods and gets back to her colouring, pushing a couple of crayons her way so she can help, which she does happily.

Vivian heads back over a few minutes later and places their sandwiches down on the table with a smile and a flourish before heading off with the shout of “Enjoy!” over her shoulder.

Lena takes a sip of the milkshake before picking up her sandwich and cringes at the sweet taste of it. She wishes she had persuaded Lori to go for something else but she just couldn’t deny that cute face anything.

They make their way through their respective sandwiches and save their crusts at the edge of their plates. When they are just about finished, Lena gestures for Vivian so she can pay the bill and get a to-go box for their crusts.

“Here you go.” Vivian hands her the bill and the box. “Just crusts huh?”

“Yeah, we’re going to feed the duckies!” Lori answers.

“You know, bread isn’t very good for duckies. They do like peas though.” Vivian answers.

Lena tilts her head. She didn’t know that. “Really?”

“Yeah, I actually sell bags of them too so there isn’t as much bread being thrown into the lake for the ducks. It pollutes the water and isn’t very healthy for them since it fills them up and then they don’t eat as much nutritious foods.” Vivian informs her.

Lena turns to Lori. “Well, I guess we’ve learned something new today, haven’t we? What do you say? Shall we get some peas and keep the duckies healthy?”

“Yes!”

“That’s settled then. Can we have a couple of bags of peas then, please? I guess we won’t be needing the to-go box after all.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I’ll go and grab those bags and amend your bill. I’ll just be a moment.” Vivian takes back the bill and the box.

She comes back with the amended bill and two decent-sized bags of peas. Lori grabs them and stuffs them in the pockets of her jacket so they bulge out. Only half of each bag fits into her tiny pockets so it kind of looks like she’s just burgled a house of peas.

Lena adds a good tip to the bill. Anyone that has the balls to call out random customers to better the wildlife and protect animals is someone deserving of the money. She can imagine how many people don’t come back because they don’t like to be corrected even if they have no idea what they’re talking about.

“Thank you.” Lena waves as she leaves the café and Lori follows her lead.

“Thank you!”

Together, they head towards the lake and Lena sees a bench just beside the water and decides that’s where she’s going to lead them.

Beside her, Lori holds both of the bags, not bothering to put them back into her pockets from where they fell out after she started skipping. As soon as they are at the water’s edge, she hands both to Lena. “Can you open it please?”

With a now open bag in her hands, Lori dives her hand into it and starts throwing the peas to the ducks, rejoicing when they start to take them and nibble away until they are gone, inching closer and closer to the pair of them so they can have more delicious treats.

Lena only tosses a few at a time, purposely slowing down so she can share her bag with Lori when she runs out because she’s just ecstatic to be feeding the ducks.

Sure enough, Lori’s smile disappears when she runs out of peas and then reappears when Lena presses her bag into her hands, still more than half-full. “You go ahead, my hands are a little tired and you’re so good at tossing them that I think it’s best you do the honours.”

The ducks gather at the edge of the lake and quack at them for the peas and Lori is more than happy to indulge them, even quacking back at them from time to time.

Once the peas are all gone, Lena stands up. “Let’s go find somewhere else to sit, huh? If we stay here the duckies will think we have more peas for them so we’d better head off and find somewhere to read.”

“Ok.” Lori reaches out and takes her hand again without Lena prompting her to and she’s glad for it because the fact that she’s someone Lori feels comfortable finding stability in is something so special to her. It does remind her though that there are other people looking for stability in her and she hasn’t been giving them her all. She’s not been pushing the purchase of the hospital the way she was at the beginning, rather than hurrying the process along, she’s been allowing it to slowly plod along at whatever pace it goes at and that’s not a great pace.

She’s been putting so much of her energy into thinking and worrying about Kara and her family that she’s not been fully invested in her job. She knows that a lot of it is to do with her loneliness and the fact that she’s now got people fending off those feelings for her but she’s not forgotten the words Kara said to her the first time they met in her office, the way Kara so brashly told her that what she’s doing as a privileged rich woman with an endless supply of whatever it is she needs, is not enough, nowhere near.

When she told Kara she was buying the hospital, she looked so proud of her but that’s not why Lena cherishes the memory. She cherishes the memory because she was proud of herself. Now though, as she looks back on it, she no longer feels that pride because now it feels performative. Unless she actually follows through fully and with her whole heart and does it for the people in that hospital rather than to impress a pretty woman, she’s not making anybody proud, especially not herself.

She gets Lori set up with her book beneath a tree and steps aside, keeping one eye on Lori the whole time as she gets her phone out and makes a call.

For the next twenty minutes, Lena argues quietly with both her people and the people of the old owners of the hospital, getting the ball rolling again. She can still be the person she wants to be. She’s making good steps but she’s not there yet. Maybe that’s ok, maybe it’s not but she’ll get there.

Once the call is done she sits beside Lori and sees that her book is closed. “Hey, have you had enough of reading?”

She shakes her head no.

“Then why is your book closed?”

“I finished it.”

“What about the other couple I have of yours, where are those?” Lena asks.

Lori points to the small pile beside her. “I finished those too.”

“Surely you haven’t read them all already, it’s only been twenty minutes.” Lena smiles, picking the books up and setting them on her lap.

Lori just shrugs. “I’ve read them loads of times. My mommy doesn’t have money for new books and the library is far away so we only go every few weeks.”

“Oh.” Lena’s not sure what to say to that. It’s not a shock that Lori knows Kara struggles with money because kids aren’t nearly as dumb as they’re made out to be and they are very aware of their surroundings.

“I try not to say anything in front of her because it makes her do her sad face. Mommy said that in a few months, I’ll be able to get new books but I have to be patient though.”

“I think your mommy is doing her best.”

“Me too, she’s tired all the time and she always falls asleep on the couch when we watch movies together. Auntie Alex says it’s because she works super hard and it makes her body tired so she has to sleep more.”

Lena brushes Lori’s hair back behind her ear. “I think you’re a very smart girl, Lori.”

“I don’t think my mom gets new books either and she used to read all the time. Can we get her a book instead of flowers? I think she’d like a book more.” Lori cracks a tiny smile at the compliment and proves to Lena that she might actually be the sweetest kid around.

“I think we can make that happen and I think that there’s no reason we can only get one or the other. Shall we head over to the bookstore first and then the florist to get the flowers?”

“Yes!” Lori jumps up. “Mommy will love it!”

“I think she will.”

Lena follows Lori up to the apartment, her arms feeling like they are going to drop off because of the weight of the bags she’s holding. She may have gone a little overboard in the bookstore. Lori is holding the bouquet of flowers and the size of it practically swallows her whole. In fact, from the front, it’s just a bouquet of flowers with arms and legs. It’s a wonder Lori can see through the stems to she can see where she’s going.

Kara texted her a while back saying they are back at the apartment so she’s got no doubt that they will be able to get into the apartment. She just opens the door, not wanting to wait because the bags are so heavy and Lori runs inside and right to Kara.

“Mommy! Mommy! We got you flowers!”

Kara’s face brightens immediately upon seeing Lori running up to her with the flowers and Lena isn’t completely sure whether it’s because of the bouquet or because it’s Lori. From the very small glance she got of Kara before she saw Lori, she looked to be in pretty high spirits anyway so Lena’s hoping for some good news for them.

“Thank you, baby. They’re beautiful.” Kara says, taking them from her so she can actually see her daughter’s face. Kara then looks up at Lena and mouths, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Lena mouths back before clearing her throat. “Hey, Alex. How are you?”

“I’m good. Had a nice day out with the little rascal?” Alex stands with her hands tucked in her back pockets.

Lena nods. “We had a great day, didn’t we, Lori? We went to the park and then the bookstore and then the florist and now we’re here.”

Kara’s eyes widen. “The bookstore? Oh no, I bet you struggled to get her out of there, trips to the library are always a whole-day affair.”

“Well, I wanted a few new books and it would have been rude of me to not get something for Miss Lori too and because she’s the sweetest little soul, she asked if we could get her favourite person one too. We couldn’t narrow it down though so you’re now the proud owner of a decent stack of books.”

“Lena, you didn’t have to do that.” Kara stands up and moves to put the flowers down on the kitchen counter before moving to Lena and wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug. “You’re the sweetest, thank you for taking care of her today and for the books and the flowers. They’re all lovely.”

“No worries. We had a great time.”

“We fed the duckies peas!” Lori clutches at her mom’s shirt to get her attention.

Kara chuckles. “Peas?”

Lena nods seriously. “We got sandwiches for lunch and we were saving the crusts to feed the ducks but the owner of the café we went to informed us that it was bad for them but she sold bags of peas to feed them so we got a couple. It was very fun.”

“I see.”

“Anyways, how has your day been? Did you manage to get everything figured out?”

“You know what? We did.” Kara replies and gestures to the couch, “Want to sit down so we can tell you all about it?”

Lena accepts the offer, taking a seat and setting the bags down at her feet. She sits happily in place and listens as Kara and Alex excitedly begin recounting their afternoon with a man called Gus and the good news of the place they have signed on to rent as soon as their month here is up. There will be a tiny overlap so they can get out a few days before they formally have to be but soon enough, they’ll be in their new place, one that is much nicer than this and Lena is so very happy for them.

“I can’t believe it! I’m stoked for you guys and very very shocked that you managed to find a place in less than a day.”

“It was pure luck, really,” Kara says. “It had only just been listed on the website when we looked and then Alex called right away. We were over across town not long after that. It’s a much better area and it’s even on the first floor with access to the communal garden right behind us so Lori will have a place to play.”

“That’s so incredible. You guys deserve it.”

Lori tugs at Kara’s shirt again, sitting on her lap and resting her head against her mother’s chest. “Mama?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Are we moving to where we used to live? Am I having my own room again?”

Kara leans down to press a kiss to the top of her head. “We’re not moving to where we used to live, baby. We are moving though and you’ll get your own room again. It won’t be as big as your old one but you’ll have your own bed and dresser and we’ll make space for you somewhere else in the apartment for all of your toys. We could even put up some shelves or something so you can have all of your books in your room and from the look of those bags, you’re going to need some really big shelves.”

“As big as an elephant?” Lori grins, her arms spreading as wide as she can make them.

“Maybe not that big but still pretty big.” Kara laughs.

Lena leans down to the bags. The books are a little jumbled in the bags so I’m sorry but there’s a little bit of organizing to do.”

“It looks like you bought out the entire store.” Alex chuckles with a shake of her head.

“We may have gone a little bit overboard, I admit.” Lena shrugs. “I like giving gifts and it sort of took over while we were in there. I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.” Lena looks between Alex and Kara.

Alex just shrugs. “I’m not uncomfortable but I’m going to be pissed if all you got was romance novels.”

“No, it’s a mixture, don’t worry.” Lena smiles, her nose scrunching as she does so.

Kara just tuts at Alex. “I don’t just read romance novels.”

Alex tilts her head, feigning ignorance. “Oh yeah, I can’t remember what the title of the last book you read was that wasn’t a romance, care to remind me, dear sister of mine?”

Kara sucks her teeth and looks away.

“That’s what I thought.”

“You’re mean,” Kara replies, her voice bratty. She sticks her tongue out at her childishly before nodding to the bags. “Can I see?”

Lena shifts the bags closer to herself and digs into them, taking a few out at a time and then piling them up on the coffee table, separating Lori’s books and the ones she got for Kara and by extension, also Alex because she’s not ready to fully admit that she only got them for Kara. Lori will probably out her on that front though. Luckily, since she got a good mixture, she can claim that some of them are for Alex too.

Kara’s jaw drops further and further as more and more books appear out of the bags. The vast majority of them are kids’ books and are for Lori and that warms her heart and breaks it at the same because while she’s super grateful that Lori is going to have the opportunity to have these books, she’s devastated that she’s in a position where she’s been denying them to her daughter because she can’t afford and then another woman has just paid for them like it’s nothing. It makes her feel like a failure to some extent, even if she does know that she’s trying her best.

She could barely even take Lori to the library because she couldn’t get the days off work and the bus fare cost more than she could afford and when she could, most of the time she was so tired that it just wasn’t something she could manage because she was terrified of falling asleep on the bus and worrying Lori even more or getting them lost and not having the money to get back home.

Lena is a special kind of woman though, that much is obvious. She clearly has a lot of love to give and a sweet soul and it makes her wonder why she spent so much time alone when she has such an obvious need for company.

It makes Kara feel guilty in a way too because she feels like she’s taking advantage of that need that is so palpable in her when in reality, she would like Lena to be around no matter whether or not she’s giving gifts or helping out with childcare of any of that stuff. She just likes being her friend. Alex might tease her about liking Lena but she’s not so sure that she can try and pursue anything with her at this stage in her life. Not when she and her family are still climbing out of the pit that is the hardest thing they have ever gone through and while they are so unevenly matched in terms of stability. She wants to wait until she can return the favour to Lena, when she can buy her a book or some flowers without it breaking the bank.

Lena watches Kara’s face closely, the unshed tears and the sparkling blue storm that is staring deeply at the books, no true decipherable emotions available to her.

“Kara? You ok?”

Kara snaps out of it. “I’m good, just trying to figure out if I’ll ever get through them all before I turn fifty.”

“I think you’ll manage.” Alex snickers, nudging Lena’s shoulder. “This woman can go through a book in a day if you let her, it’s insane how fast she can read.”

“A woman after my own heart.” Lena quips, her eyebrow raising and her voice turning to liquid silk.

She misses the look Alex throws Kara over the top of her head and it’s probably for the best because otherwise, she’d feel bad for the fact that Kara is probably going to get teased quite a lot once she’s gone.

They keep on going through the books for a few more minutes before Lena decides to bid everyone goodbye. “I’m going to leave you ladies to it. Have a lovely evening and I’ll see you all soon.”

“Are you sure you have to go now?” Lori asks.

“I have some work to get started on at home and you saw how many books I bought for myself too, I have a lot to organize on my shelves.”

“Ok,” Lori says and crawls off Kara’s lap and into Lena’s so she can wrap her arms around her neck. “Can we go feed the duckies again sometime?”

Lena hugs her back, rocking her back and forth a couple of times before releasing her. “I think that would be awesome.”

Kara stands up and pulls her into a hug next. “You really saved our asses again today, thank you for having her and for also spoiling us. Next time you want to give us gifts though, one is probably enough.”

“Noted,” Lena says, the smirk on her face giving away the fact that she’s not taking it seriously at all and will most definitely spoil them again if she wants to.

Kara just shakes her head at her and lets Alex go in for the last hug. “I guess I’ll see you at work, boss. Thank you for today.”

“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow, I’ll be swinging by in the afternoon.” Lena starts walking towards the front door but pauses. “Oh, Lori. I still have your picture in my purse.”

“You can keep it, we worked on it together and it never got finished so maybe we could finish it next time it’s game night.”

Lena barely suppresses her smile. “I think that’s a very smart idea. I’ll keep it extra safe next to your other drawings on my refrigerator.”

Kara does a double-take at those words. “I never noticed that. You have her pictures up on your fridge?”

“I was once told that all masterpieces must go on the fridge, there’s no better place for them.”

“That’s cute.” Kara giggles. “I’ll keep an eye out for that next time it’s your turn to host game night.”

“I’ll be sure to make sure they are perfectly straight and looking mighty fine.”

Alex snorts, sinking down into the couch. “So many jokes, so little time.”

For early access to the next few chapters of this fic and all of my others too, come check out my Patreon here!

#supercorp #lena luthor #supergirl #kara danvers #kara x lena #fanfic #cw supergirl #supercorp endgame #supercorp fanfic #kara zor el #fanfiction #for her sake #single parent au #chaoticsuper

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howtowhumpyourhiccup · 7 months

Text

Feverishly Delirious

Summary: Written for AI-less Whumptober 2023 Day 7. Set during RttE. Astrid has a reaction to the dragon root shot in her leg.

Warning: /

Rating: General

Characters: Hiccup, Astrid, Heather, Fishlegs, Snotlout, Stormfly

Pairing: /

Words: 836

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: Restrained

Whumpee: Astrid

Author’s Notes: Loved writing this Astrid whump!

Enjoy!

@ailesswhumptober

XOXOX

“Astrid. Astrid!” Hiccup holds her hands as she fights him. She tries to rip them out of his grip, but she’s not at her usual strength, so she can’t. It’s a mercy on him. If she wasn’t as weak as she currently is, she would’ve punched him in the face at least once.

Astrid is on her back on her bed, the covers and her pillow everywhere. He kneels on the edge, trying to keep her from fighting everyone as they aren’t the only Riders here. Fishlegs stands by with bandages, the dragonroot antidote, and other medicinal supplies. Heather kneels by her head, fingers running through her matted hair. Meanwhile, Snotlout and the twins stand by helplessly.

“Astrid, it’s us! Open your eyes!” Hiccup tries to convince Astrid to listen, but she doesn’t. Whatever delirious vision she’s having, she’s too deep into it.

“NO! Get off! GET OFF!” She screams. “You can’t have my… Stormfly!”

“Stormfly!” She calls for her dragon. She must believe she’s in some sort of battle, she’s tried to go for her axe, which is why Hiccup is too desperate to keep her restrained. He can’t let her get it and lash out at one of her friends.

Unfortunately, restraining her is also what keeps her from listening to any of them.

“Please, Astrid,” Heather pleads with her friend.

“Hiccup, we have to do something quick! Astrid needs that antidote!” Fishlegs presses. They didn’t think dragonroot would have an effect on humans as well, but Astrid has proven otherwise. That arrow she took to her leg is the reason why she’s like this.

“I know that Fishlegs, but we can’t let her attack anyone either!” She doesn’t even need her axe to seriously injure one of them.

But if her delirium has her believe that she’s in the middle of a battle and pinned down by enemies as they assume… Hiccup can’t stand to see her like this.

“Snotlout, go get Stormfly,” he orders him and for once he rushes outside to get it done. Astrid might think none of them are around to save her, but she did call for her dragon and maybe that means she’s expecting her to come. Stormfly might be their way in.

Barely a minute later, the Nadder arrives. Apparently, Snotlout didn’t even need to go get her, she was already on her way.

“Stormfly! Here girl,” Hiccup directs her closer, though she’s perfectly capable of spotting her troubled Rider on her own. He and Heather let go of Astrid and she immediately lashes out, not even an inch off from hitting the lead Rider in the nose.

Astrid stumbles to her feet, her injured leg lagging behind. She has no strength, her legs shake beneath her.

“That’s what I thought, you…” She slurs, unable to finish that sentence. Her head rolls as dizziness takes its toll, she reaches for it and groans. She stumbles backwards.

Hiccup, Heather, everyone reaches to catch her, but it’s Stormfly who keeps her steady, holding her up with her horn.

“Stormfly, there you are girl,” the relief in Astrid’s voice is palpable. She strokes her scaly hide and then goes limp. This time, Hiccup does catch her and he picks her up in his arms. Having reunited with her dragon, she has allowed herself to pass out and so he takes her back to bed. Astrid will no longer fight them. Hopefully, even when she does wake up.

Stormfly squawks as she walks around the bed and settles at Astrid’s right, chirping and giving her nose to pat later.

Fishlegs gets to work on that leg and Hiccup helps wherever he can. They can finally take a proper look at that arrow wound on her thigh, it’s become terribly infected. Whether Astrid simply has the bad luck of getting an infection or has a bad reaction to the dragon root and why, they don’t know. So what they’ll do is take care of it now and discuss that later.

Removing the initial bandage that’s become crusty with blood and puss, a gnarly sight meets them and it’s no wonder that Astrid is as feverish and delirious as she is.

“Don’t worry,” Fishlegs states, although even he’s not sure whether he’s reassuring himself or his friends. “We’ll clean it, dress it again, and we’ll give her the antidote once she’s able to swallow. She’s going to be okay.”

There’s a heavy dread in the room, everyone is worried for Astrid’s health. As Fishlegs works, Hiccup strokes her forehead with his thumb while his hand rests on her crown, Heather is on her other side to hold her hand, and Stormfly thrills a soft song in her ears.

Snotlout approaches with a wet cloth to lay on her forehead, but they’ll have to see when her fever will break. Even if they have to drop her in a bath of cold water, they have to break it. If they can’t get her out of her delirium, she could end up hurt worse.

#ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptober #day 7 #restrained #httyd fics #httyd movies #rtte #race to the edge #astrid hofferson #astrid whump #hiccup haddock #heather #stormfly #stormstrid #snotlout jorgenson #fishlegs ingerman #hiccup and the dragon riders #my fanfics #feverishly delirious

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theresawritesstuff · 1 year

Note

42, "I came alone."

Lenny opened the door to his dressing room expecting Jo-Jo or Alan, or the club manager, or some intrepid fan hoping for an autograph.

Instead, he found Midge's mother standing on the other side.

"Good evening, Leonard," she greeted primly, as if it were perfectly normal for her to be there. Like they'd run into each other at the deli counter or something.

"Hi." He blinked, suddenly very aware of the residual stage sweat along his brow. "Rose, wasn't it?"

"That's right."

Lenny glanced down the hall, but found it empty.

"Did…Midge bring you? Or are you and Abe out on–"

"No. I came alone," she informed him. "I wanted to talk to you."

"To me?" He couldn't help the surprise on his face.

"Yes." Rose nodded and he suddenly saw exactly where Midge got hers from.

She waited a moment for him to process before asking "May I come in? This floor is quite sticky."

Lenny stepped aside dumbly, letting her into his dressing room and closing the door behind them despite the apprehensive feeling growing in his gut.

"Um...Did you catch my set?" he asked, attempting a casual conversation.

"Some of it," she replied, giving him nothing more.

"Right." Lenny exhaled, leaning casually against the counter. "So to what do I owe the pleasure, Mrs. Weissman?"

"I've been… doing a little personal detective work. Mainly for my own edification. And there's one question I keep coming back to that I believe only you can answer," she replied, perching herself cautiously on the edge of the dressing room couch.

He smirked, intrigued. "Is that right?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Lay it on me," he prompted, wiping his brow with a towelette.

"How long have you been in love with my daughter?"

Lenny stared, speechless, and a little spooked.

He'd spent no more than five minutes with this woman in total. How could she possibly know he…

"I'm sorry, wh–"

"I've been piecing it together for some time now. Miriam no longer confides in me about her love life, but I have been able to discern that she hasn't been serious about a man since her sudden break up with Benjamin. That is… except for you."

"I–"

Rose held up a hand. "I'm not here to threaten you. We both know you're more than capable of making a quick exit of your own volition."

Lenny looked down at his shoes.

"I'm not proud of how I handled myself that morning. Or leading up to it."

"It must have been a jarring experience," Rose replied mercifully, "waking up to such an intimate look into her life. And to being offered blintzes no less."

Lenny smirked sheepishly at her attempt to tease him and lighten the mood.

"You weren't expecting it," she continued. "You're used to meeting her on your own terms, in your own element. Like at a club, or a bar across town. Or on tour in Miami."

Lenny looked up at her again, dumbfounded.

"Like I said, I've been piecing some things together. Susie's assistant Dinah has been very helpful," Rose admitted. "Miriam doesn't talk about her career with us much. And we haven't exactly encouraged her to. Which is probably a mistake on our part but…"

She let out a sigh. "The one person from that world she does talk about in any capacity, other than Susie, is you. She won't say when you've been together or share anything truly personal about your relationship, whatever that may be. But I still know my daughter enough to know when someone means a great deal to her. And when she's been heartbroken."

Rose stood, steadying a soft, weary gaze on him. "You've been there for my daughter from the start of this…odd adventure of hers. More so than her own family. You've lent her your aid unselfishly. Bolstered her courage and I suspect…been one of the few people willing to be at odds with her in order to get her set back on track. Something happened between you two when you played Carnegie last month. I don't need to know what. All I know is it would benefit you both to resolve it. She's got a…gig. That's what you call them, right? Gigs?"

Lenny nodded.

"Yes, well, she's got one tomorrow, at this address." She slipped a piece of paper from her purse onto the counter as she made her way to leave. "I know she'd want you to be there."

Lenny watched her as she stepped towards the door until her hand was on the knob.

"You never let me answer your question," he informed her.

Rose turned back, waiting for his reply.

Lenny pulled a cigarette from the pack in his pocket, considering it carefully between his fingers.

"Do you remember the flowers I sent?"

She nodded quietly. "It was a lovely arrangement."

He shrugged. "Midge is a lovely woman. In a number of ways. Far more than a guy like me ever deserves."

Rose studied him carefully as he lit his cigarette, taking a long drag.

"That's the thing you young people always get so hung up on, isn't it."

Lenny smirked. "I'm not that young."

"Then you should know relationships are never built on being deserving of another. Love is a gift, Leonard. Not a prize. And even if it were…you've already won hers."

He looked up at her then as Rose gave him a tired smile only a mother could give.

"She…"

"Yes." Rose nodded. "So stop being such a drama queen and decide what you're going to fucking do about it."

And with that, she walked out, leaving him with only the sound of her heels on the sticky floor and his own thoughts to consider.

#tmmm fanfic #Prompt fic #rose weissman #Fictional Lenny Bruce #midge x lenny #This was the prompt that would not cooperate for the longest time #And maybe it's still a mess but it's what I've got

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joomju · 7 months

Text

I got a good grade in therapy today (hah) so here's the thing that helped me, and my therapist liked it so much she said she's stealing it.

Fuck to-do lists.

I have a Done List. The Done List is for logging what I've done. At work I have a meeting with myself late Friday afternoon, and all week long when I get something done I toss a bullet point into that meeting. At the end of the week I know what I did. No more "augh it's all a blurry haze, what did I even do?" At home I have calendars in each room, and I mark off the days I cleaned that room. Doesn't have to be perfectly clean, just, did I do some cleaning there? Good? It gets marked on the calendar. No more cleaning the bathroom every two days, just to be really really sure I did it.

I have a Learn List. When I'm inspired/feeling good/ready to tackle something big I go look at this list. It includes books to read, tutorials and courses and training, it includes a new script I'm debugging, fic I'm trying to write, etc. Inspired Brain is a different thing from Executive Function Brain. I was having a lot of anxiety because I would be in the middle of creating something and the brain gremlins would go "but you need to vacuum!" No. The vacuuming gets added to the Touch List. It is not allowed to interrupt the Inspired Brain.

I have a Touch List. This is all the stupid stuff that doesn't require creativity. Vacuuming, folding laundry, filing my benefits reimbursement for the therapy, it all goes in the touch list. I try to touch it for half an hour each day. Touch List is a great catchall for anything nagging at me. It's allowed to have stupid things on it like "pick up lightbulbs" and then the next day "they were out of lightbulbs, go pick up lightbulbs from the other store" or whatever. I don't feel guilty about "oh shite I didn't get lightbulbs" I just go "well, that didn't work out the way I wanted, okay, it's added back to the list".

(Touch List = half an hour each day works for me because I'm no longer living below the poverty line. Getting to this place in my life involved an entirely different set of skills and that's an entirely different post.)

I found the endless to-do list to be panic inducing. It included everything from "vacuum" to "learn French" and that was really not helpful. When do you count "learn French" as done, anyway? It was like asking myself "why aren't you three people already? Why haven't you already turned into a fantastic athlete who is also a great cook who is also a consummate professional coder?" Logging everything on The Done List has helped me appreciate my own work more. It's helped me be kinder to myself. It's helped me see all that I am capable of, all that I already am, instead of just being overwhelmed by all that I still need to get done, all that I want to become. I hope it helps you too.

#anxiety #brain gremlins #joomju blathers

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thegeminisage · 5 days

Text

it's star trek update time. last night we watched ds9's "profit and loss" and tng's "genesis."

profit and loss (ds9):

i was EATING! what an amazing episode. even though there was lots of quark and he's not normally my favorite

entire section with quark on his knees begging or whatever. that post thats like "gay people never flirt normally it's always shit like this"

my favorite part was that, in spite of all quark's begging and bribery, odo was like "yeah no i was gonna disobey orders anyway bc justice. this was fun though thanks" like my absolute KING and best friend odo startrek.

also, odo's complete and total disdain for the idea of romance........please. he's SOMEWHERE on the ace and/or aro spectrum. idk where but he is

AND GARAK! i'm sad he only had one conversation with bashir but i was so excited to see him and find out even a little bit more about him. i was like aw cm,on hes harmless hes just a little guy hes a gay little tailor and then they strongly implied he used to be an assassin and i had to pause the episode bc i got lightheaded

at first i didnt understand the end...like he informed on them and was gonna kill them to get back to cardassia and then just RANDOMLY changed his mind? but he told you what he was gonna do in his very first scene. it's loyalty to the state before loyalty to loved ones - or, yes, even the self. his 180 was a little abrupt, but i totally got it once i thought about it. the depth of the love he has for a place that ??? tossed him out ??? i guess? is pretty amazing

my only real complain about this episode was that they fumbled quark a little. that episode where he was in a quasi-romance with that cross-dressing ferengi actually gave us a good set-up - he does have a soul/conscience/whatever and IS capable of caring about other people, even more more than he cares about his assets (like the bar) - in both this episode and that one, he was perfectly willing to throw away the bar for a love interest. but in that other episode, he wasn't willing to live and be with that other ferengi unless she conformed to HIS idea of how women should be. in this one, he was briefly entertaining the idea of throwing away his entire life to go fight this lady's cause with her (which i don't think he could have followed through with), but absolutely nobody brought up "if you love her you have to give her agency and let her do what she wants ie leave" or at the VERY least "it's creepy/selfish to try and blackmail her into more or less marrying you." like, no, you don't need to spoonfeed the audience, WE know it's creepy, but her students going "yeah no let her stay!" was bonkers. and then when he did let her leave (and decided not to go with her even though he'd offered to do that earlier) it was just because he...had no choice?

idk, i feel like "quark sold food to starving bajorans even though it was illegal" does a LOT to humanize him, and in a GREAT way because plausibly he could go "yeah well the bajorans had money and i like money" to deny he has a conscience or whatever. AND IT WAS A THROWAWAY LINE. meanwhile he spent half this episode being creepy to this poor cardassian lady and it kind of undoes all that...? i'm not saying i DON'T want quark to be selfish and secretly a goody two-shoes, but i do want him to care about SOMETHING in a way that's like, if not totally unselfish, at least in a manner that has depth. "i like this lady so i want her to stay here forever and forget logic and also whatever she wants" is pretty much the least complex kind of romance you could give him. it works as a STARTING point, but if the endpoint is him just letting her leave because he quite literally has no choice, there wasn't much of a point to any of it plotwise, even if his non-sexist antics were extremely fun to watch in this episode

genesis (tng):

if spot transformed into an iguana right as she was finished giving birth to her kittens and they were a day old when data and picard found them, that means those newborn kittens did not eat for a full 24 hours and picard and data left them in data's quarters without feeding them or caring for them at all, which is perhaps the gravest sin either of them has ever committed

newborn kittens can only last a few hours without nursing - after half a day, they'd all be gone. and SOMEHOW they're still alive even though NO ONE HAS FED THEM and they don't even stop to feed them like we SAW them leave you can't even pretend they just did it offscreen between scenes. like are you kidding

ALSO, spot and all the other cats aboard this fucking spaceship should be fixed??? i hate to accuse my best friend data of being an irresponsible pet parent but there it is :/

i would never take my cats into space. they don't even like car rides. how can you drive this ship into a planet when there are children AND CATS aboard?? i hate tng so deeply

anyway, doing all of that to worf was racist and worf biting deanna in the bath was rapey. no wonder the actors hated worf e deanna almost every single one of their scenes together has been awful. -1000000/10 this might be my least favorite episode of tng i've ever watched

TONIGHT: ds9's "blood oath" and tng's "journey's end" and yes ik what that one is about and i am full of dread

#personal #star trek blogging #ds9 lb #tng lb #s7 has been such a rough one for poor data #all the data episodes used to be my favs bc i love him sm but most of his big moments in s7 have been mid at best #i miss when we had several good tng eps in a row and got pleasantly surprised by their quality

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anabsolutefreak · 11 days

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Chapter 18: All He Has to Offer

This is a canon adjacent full campaign based story involving my original TAV character, the full BG3 crew and, of course, our favorite undead high elf. I created this story to help me get through an exceptionally difficult time in my life and so, you might notice Tav's story is a little more atypical than some. Be advised that the story I have created has some mature themes including violence, kink, mental health and self harm. I will be placing warnings on each individual chapter when any of these themes are included so please be aware. I hope you enjoy. Summary: Astarion begins to have-- feelings-- and he doesn't like of appreciate them. These lead him to setting up another chance to experience him and Embrae's "full portfolio of talents" but also to an explosive argument that neither of them really understand. MATURE CONTENT: References to possible trauma. Smut. Language.

They prepared over a week for their impending journey into the Underdark, gathering whatever supplies they could scavenge, buy, or hunt and getting rid of what they didn’t want to carry down with them. They spent the last several days before their final descent camped out in the goblin camp itself, scrounging for supplies and searching for the fabled entrance to the Underdark. Although they camped as far on the e outskirts of the camp as possible, the smell of rotting goblins still threatened to choke Embrae with each breath that she took. She had helped do that, she realized— helped turn people (miserable and evil though they were) into rotten meat. The thought turned her stomach and she found herself eating less as the search continued.

The Owlbear appeared in the camp the third night staying at the Goblin camp. Embrae awoke to a soft hooting and chittering and, sitting up, found her face to face with a beak and a pair of perfectly wide, yellow eyes. Although clearly a cub, the owlbear was still powerful enough to rip her to shreds where she sat, so Embrae froze. The cub hooted uncertainly and took a few timid steps back looking at her with curiosity. Casting animal speak under her breath, she asked the beast. “Hey there— are you hungry?”

Hungry! Food! Eat!”

She laughed. “I thought so.” Turning back slowly, she grabbed a bowl of stew that still sat next to her bedroll. She had meant to eat it but she had fallen asleep after just a few bites. She fished out a couple chunks from the stew and tossed them to the cub who hooted with delight.

“Want— more! Hungry!”

“What an adorable little snack,” said Astarion appearing beside her. The cub panicked at the unexpected presence and fled.

“Look you’ve frightened him,” she scolded the vampire.

“Darling, I’m sure he’ll be back. Strays simply seem to find you irresistible.”

He was right, as it turned out and over the next several nights the owlbear returned, staying longer and longer until one night, she found him curled up next to Scratch, fast asleep. She smiled at the pair fondly.

The animals were a source of joy for most of her campmates, as it turned out. Naturally, Halsin spent most of his downtime trying to talk to the pair, jotting down what looked like observational notes whenever the owlbear spoke to him. And the two never wanted for food. Although the creatures were likely capable of hunting their own game, she frequently spotted the others tossing bits and pieces of their meals to their new pets. Laezel it seemed, was particularly fond of the Owlbear cub, perhaps because they were rumored to be cruel, merciless beasts. One night, Embrae even woke to find Astarion returning from a hunt with the dismembered leg of some unfortunate creature. He knelt down to scratch both of them on the heads and then, to their delight, tossed them the fresh meat. He sat watching them, lost in thought as they devoured his gift. She thought about teasing the vampire, who so often scorned her weakness for “the little snacks” but in the end found greater pleasure watching his secret affections for them whilst she pretended to sleep.

It was Shadowheard and Embrae who finally located the entrance to the Underdark, beneath a chamber in High Priestess Gut’s sanctum. The entrance was hidden behind several religious puzzles that Shadowheart had seemed to very much enjoy solving. Embrae too had been happy, anticipating happily, the chance to leave the goblin camp and continue their adventure. However, standing now at the top of the long climb that would lead them into the Underdark, Embrae felt deeply uneasy. This was it, she realized. They were going to move past the conjecture, the idea of passing through a deep, strange underground world filled her with anxiety.

Shadowheart, on the other hand, looked almost elated. But then, Embrae supposed the follower of the Dark Lady would relish the opportunity to adventure into darkness. “Do you think this is the right thing to do?” she asked her. “Traveling through the Underdark, I mean. It just seems so…”

“If Halsin is correct, which I suspect he is, we will have to journey through the darkness one way or another… and I rather suspect that once we see the Shadow curse, that we may come to appreciate the gloom of the Underdark. I have heard that, dangerous as it is, it is also a place of exquisite beauty.”

Embrace recognized the slight fanatic gleam in her friend’s eye and sighed. Yes, the darkness would be a chance for Shadowheart to prove herself to her Lady of Darkness.

“Well come on then, I guess it’s time we told the others.”

***

Astarion watched Embrae as she went over the list of provisions with Wyll and Karlach, taking stock of what they’d be able to bring which, thanks to Gale’s bag-of-holding spell was considerably more than he would have expected.

But Astarion wasn’t paying attention to the plan for tomorrow morning. Was she looking— thinner? He wondered. It might have been the shadows but he rather thought the hollows of her cheeks more noticeably her cheekbones more pronounced. Was it him? Had he been feeding too often? He thought back to the untouched food the last night. How much did mortals eat? He honestly couldn’t remember. It seemed near constant in his mind. He could go without feeding for several days although he rarely did these days.

“Gale?” he asked thoughtfully. The wizard looked up from his task. Was he really organizing his socks?

“Yes? What can I do for you?”

“Question for you. I’m simply curious you see. How much often should a mortal eat normally?”

“Ah— well, that depends I suppose. Would this particular mortal tend to be of a half-elf female persuasion?”

“It matters not but I suppose we can use that example.”

“Hypothetically, of course.” Gale looked towards Embrae and Astarion thought a bit of concern touched the wizard's eyes. “Well, I’d venture that if they are very active and living off the land they should be eating well at least two times a day if not more. Now if they happen to be, shall we say, making donations to someone with different dietary needs—”

“Gods below,” snapped Astarion. “Are you always this long-winded or do you take days off?”

“Fine. I shall be brief then,” Gale said bluntly. “She is not taking enough and you are taking too much.”

“Well, why isn’t she eating?” His voice came out stressed and worried. He hated it. “Surely we’ve had enough for everyone and your cooking can’t be that awful.”

“Hmm, I believe Shadowheart has been expressing similar worries to our friend but to venture my own guess, I’d say she’s just got a lot on her plate (that being the metaphorical plate, of course) right now. Stress can have different effects on people and their appetites and we are all under rather a lot of it. We are NOT, however, all indulging your desire for fresh blood every night.”

“It’s not— it’s not every night—” he trailed off. How often had she been allowing him to feed? They’d had scare opportunities to kill any thinking creatures as of late and yet he felt strong, he felt well. Shit. What was the point of him being strong if it weakened her?

“Excuse me,” he said to Gale abruptly, striding in the direction of Shadowheart’s tent.

The cleric was sitting in front of the tent in quiet meditation but she opened her eyes when he cleared his throat. She stood and crossed her arms, waiting.

“I— I rather think our leader has a problem. She doesn’t seem to be— um— eating. ”

Shadowheart’s response was full of sarcasm. “Really, do you think so Astarion? How wonderfully attentive you must be to have noticed that someone other than yourself can indeed be hungry. ”

“I— I noticed I just— I didn’t remember, ok? 200 years and I've forgotten what it was like to be mortal.”

“Well, then I suppose we shall have to educate you. It’s much like being a vampire, Astarion. We need to eat to sustain ourselves. We can go without for a while but it will make us weak. The main difference, however, is that given enough time, our kind will die, whereas I believe yours will descend into madness.”

He scowled. The last part was all too true. “Well, you must know of some way to make her eat then. A potion, a spell perhaps?”

“Thank the Gods you’re here Astarion. Of course, all she needed was a simple potion. Now why didn’t I think of that?”

“Is this snide attitude of yours really necessary, my dear?”

“Perhaps not. But it makes me feel a little better.”

“Alright, well I’m glad you feel better. Now can we please move on to making it better or do you want to continue verbally lashing me?”

Shadowheart sighed. “The truth is, I don’t know that it is you. While you certainly aren’t helping, I’ve been thinking about what she told me about the mountain pass. She’s the only one of us to use the tadpole the way she has. Perhaps it’s had an effect. ”

He considered this. It could make sense, he suppose. She had thrown quite a blast of psychic energy at that dreadful Gith. Could it have harmed her somehow? He felt a wave of misgiving. He too indulged in one of the wicked little worms and had felt the cold mental power that came with it.

“You should talk to her,” Shadowheart told him. “See if you can get a sense of what’s going on.”

“And how on earth would I do that?”

“Well, you obviously mean something to her. What that something is, I can only speculate but she might listen to you— she might confide in you.”

“Really? You’re a powerful and talented cleric and that’s the advice you give. Let the vampire spawn handle it? Gods!”

Shook her head but didn’t take the bait. “I’ve told you my thoughts. Please feel free to leave now. Unless there was something else?”

He stalked back to his tent and stood at the entrance completely nonplussed. He could see Karlach had left but Embrae still talking to Wyll. Halsin too had joined the conversation which had become less serious and more animated. Embrae was laughing, her eyes sparkling. What had the druid said, he wondered? A sour feeling settled in his stomach. What an idiotic notion, he thought to himself, that he would have anything to offer the woman besides the obvious. Would she figure that out though? Perhaps she had already. She certainly has enough options, he thought, watching the druid smile down at her. And what if she did? It shouldn’t matter, should it? It wasn’t as though either of them had ever defined their relationship if he could even call it that. For himself, it was a survival strategy, and for her— a bit of fun, obviously.

“Oi, fangs!” Karlach called to him, jogging up from the other side of camp.

He looked up at the giantess of a tiefling as she stopped in front of him. “Yes, how can I help you?”

“You know, if you don’t relax your face, it’s going to be stuck that way.”

“Stuck, what way?” He had the ridiculous and useless impulse to look back at his mirror. He crossed his arms. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Karlach stretched and sat down on the ground beside him with a huff. “Oh don’t be like that Astarion. You know I’m just teasing. Seriously though. If you stare any harder, you’re going to burn a hole right through someone.”

He sighed, irritably. “I’m not staring at anyone. I’m simply thinking.”

“Uh-huh.”

He rounded on her. “I’m sorry, was there something you actually wanted?”

“Jeez fangs chill, or you’ll burn hotter than me!” She raised both hands as the hellfire flames licked over their surface. She stood and mirrored his crossed arms but the good-natured smile remained on her face. “I didn’t come over just to tease you. I came over to tell you that if you need to talk, I’m all ears.”

What in the hells did she think he needed to talk about? “Alright,” he said. He turned away from her looking back at Embrae. She had broken away from the two men and was walking towards the fire. “I’m perfectly alright, although I appreciate the thought.”

“Ha!” She barked. “You don’t even understand the thought. Trust me, I was stuck in Avernus long enough I almost forgot what having friends was like. But those of us who’ve gone through hell ought to be there for each other. So I’ve got your back, whether you want me to or not.” She stood and brushed herself. Then nodded pointedly at Embrae. “She likes you plenty, you know. You shouldn’t waste time worrying about things that haven’t even happened… you never really know how much time you have. None of us do.” There was a touch of sadness in her voice. Astarion looked at her thoughtfully. She wasn’t wrong. Everyone in camp was liable to split into a mind flayer at any moment or, failing that, die horribly in battle. Even him, an immortal, was not safe. Karlach, however, didn’t live with the possibility of a certain death in the near future. Even if all went well and they took care of their tadpoles, her death was certain unless she chose to return to Avernus. He felt an unexpected twinge of sympathy for her at the thought. She could no more return to the relative safety of Avernus than he could to Cazador. So far, his freedom had proven more perilous and terrifying than his time with his master. At least there, he knew what to expect. And yet, he wouldn’t give it up for all the moonstones in Evereska.

“I’ll take it into consideration,” he told her. “And you know, Karlach— if there is a solution for your particular— condition, I suspect we’ll find it. Not me, of course, but there are plenty of other motivated do-gooders around who I’m sure won’t let the matter rest.”

She laughed .“Aw, fangs. You always know just the right thing to say.”

After Karlach made her way back to her own tent, Embrae approached his tent. There was a small smile on her face and her cheeks were flushed lightly. He watched her thoughtfully as she closed the distance between them. It was true, he only had one thing to offer her… so why shouldn’t he offer it?

***

To Embrae’s relief, Karlach and Lae’zel were safe at camp when they arrived back. They had hidden in a cave, Karlach had told her, until the Gith force had moved on. Karlach’s relief at Embrae’s return was clear across her face as she grinned at her. Lae’zel looked chastened and subdued. Embrae felt for her; yes, she had put them all in danger but the gith woman had trusted her own kind and had very nearly been gutted for it.

Hungry! Food! Eat!”

“Want— more! Hungry!”

“What an adorable little snack,” said Astarion appearing beside her. The cub panicked at the unexpected presence and fled.

“Look you’ve frightened him,” she scolded the vampire.

“Darling, I’m sure he’ll be back. Strays simply seem to find you irresistible.”

“If Halsin is correct, which I suspect he is, we will have to journey through the darkness one way or another… and I rather suspect that once we see the Shadow curse, we may come to appreciate the gloom of the Underdark. I have heard that, dangerous as it is, it is also a place of exquisite beauty.”