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greytoiletpaper · 3 years

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Out on Allen Street, it’s 7 in the Morning

Set in the Street Siblings au by @a-sketchy-character | @streetsiblings without which I may not have had the motivation to write this much.

Drizzle | Deluge | Squall | AO3

Chapter 4: susurration

The world is dark.

Somehow, she knows how many marks and cuts criss-cross her body; how many bruises decorate her like a canvas. But she can’t feel them, not even one.

Instead, all she can do is listen, tuning in to the rain as it pours, as red droplets fall in time off of Mad Dog’s blade. If she really listens to the sound, it almost sounds like a different boy’s laughter.

She focuses on the noise and it alone, her body so perfectly still.

Mad Dog thrusts his blade to her chest, and Cassandra’s eyes open.

They’ve only been in Gotham for a week, yet, it feels like he never left. At least for Park Row, the “Crime Alley”, the city has never changed. Slowly, the Red Hood and Ravager make the area their own. He does everything to make sure that the Bat never catches a whiff of what he’s doing. He knows it is pointless; even if Bruce knew, he would be too much of a coward to venture into the evil heart of the city.

It infuriates him, the remnants of the old argument. If Batman was ever truly needed. It would be - no, should be - here. In the black, beating heart of Gotham, where crime and cruelty channel through its citizens as if it were in their own blood. Yet for all he prattles about his crusade of justice, Bruce will never set foot into Crime Alley; too hung up on the ghosts of his past to banish the ones that haunt others.

It’s why he’s wearing the original persona of the man who murdered him. Jason had lived these streets, born and raised and died because of them. Deep down, Jason understands what Bruce simply refuses to believe. Some people simply want to watch the world burn, and they can never be stopped, only carefully controlled, managed or otherwise taken out. He never wants what happened to him to be inflicted on someone else. Not if he can help it.

Now, Red Hood is here, slinking through the darkened hallways of Arkham. Past every guard and camera until he arrives at one particular cell. He knocks on the door, and a mop of neon green flips upwards.

The madman beams; his eyes are whirlpools of chaotic energy.

“What’s this? Birdy clipped his wings!” The Joker begins, guffawing like a howling hyena. “I was wondering when you’d come back to see me, little Jay.”

To his credit, Jason doesn’t react. The pneumatic seals of the helmet hiss as it comes off. The Joker never takes his eyes off his face.

“There you are, my boy. Just like your uncle Jay” The lunatic says without tone, feral grin seeming plastered. “Say, you seen Cass anywhere?”

That makes him shift uneasily on his feet. The Joker leans in close, almost conspiratorially.

“You think the Bat ran her out? That he…” Something morbid flashes in the eyes of his monster. “Killed her just like I did you?”

Jason wants to drive his fists into the man’s back. Stamp on his legs until the bones shatter. Bludgeon him over and over with whatever is on hand until the madman’s flesh is nothing but paste. Instead, he stands frozen as the cackling echoes around the room and in his ears.

“I’m not doing this for you,” Is what he says. “And I’m not doing this for me either.”

His hand lifts the pistol from its holster.

“I’m doing this because someone has to do what Batman can’t.”

The Joker takes the words in stride, nodding to himself. To Jason, it’s the calmest he has ever seen him.

“Not a fan of the whole motorcycle fetish style, but to each his own,” The madman’s eyes, still rotting in their own insanity, meet his. Something about the gaze seems so clear despite the instability. “You’re going to be wonderful for the Red Hood name.”

He sighs.

“When you do it, boy, make sure you get as much of the colour out of me.”

Jason nods and presses the barrel into Joker’s forehead, closes his eyes, and everything is silent.

He presses his hand to the glass, the rain sliding down the pane on the other side, its streams the same lengths as the rivers that flow from his red crown.

Fact One, a statement: Roman Sionis is the Black Mask, one of Gotham's most powerful crime lords with connections running deeply in the underground drugs and weapons trade.

Fact Two, an amendment: Roman Sionis is the Black Mask, arguably one of Gotham's most powerful crime lords with sizeable connections in the weapons trade.

Fact Three, a truth: He is absolutely livid with the Red Hood and the Ravager.

Roman stares at the text on the notepad; he picks it up and throws it across the room.

In the space of two nights, the new duo had taken over his entire drug operation and cut off every tie Roman had to Crime Alley. Internally, he thinks ‘cut off’ is still too lacking a description. Half of his thugs breathing through tubes for days. Pimps found castrated and dangling from lampposts. Drug dealers with their mouths frothing as they dissociated. If the rumour mill among villains is anything to go by, Red Hood had killed the Joker in his own damn cell. Roman shudders. He’d seen the images from the crime.

The pair are definitely a threat, and Roman needs him gone as soon as possible. Hiring the Joker would have been one of the best choices: effective, relatively cheap and definitely motivated to take on whoever dares don his previous mantle. Alas, reality disagrees.

Black Mask picks up the phone, ready to dial the more expensive alternative. He sighs and hopes they don’t call Deathstroke the ‘Terminator’ for nothing.

Cassandra dives away at the last second, adrenaline flushing through her body and lifting the fog from her mind. Her opponent’s blade impacts with the ground, firmly planting itself the whole way. Mad Dog, clearly thrown off, becomes an easy target with her renewed energy.

She does not hold back, unleashing a flurry of blows to the assassin’s chest, even as he tries to hold his defence together. With renewed focus, she redirects every strike he makes and strikes him back thrice as hard.

It is not long until Mad Dog is at Cassandra’s mercy, nearly a bloody pulp under her hand.

“Finish it,” Shiva calls suddenly, and she almost complies. But, with her hazy vision, the images of Faizul and the assassin blend together. The vertigo Cassandra is feeling becomes sharper, and she’s drowning in it.

In her hesitation, Shiva tuts and stabs her own blade into Mad Dog’s heart, crimson fluid spraying in all directions.

Cass doubles over, desperately heaving, and liquid green purges from her body.

Bruce stares up at the readout on the Batcomputer. There are new players in Gotham, but there’s something that makes them stand out from the others. They make headway faster than he’s ever seen it, clearing out and claiming Park Row as their own territory in a week.

Twenty-seven confirmed kills and thirty-four hospitalisations. He would have stopped with his investigation then and there. Yet, the detective in him tugs the back of his mind. He checks through the names again and finds that each one is attached to a laundry list of crimes that become more appalling the further he reads.

Then Red Hood killed the Joker; and for the first time since the madman’s debut, Gotham is quiet.

Bruce rubs his face in his hands and turns to the screens entirely dedicated to monitoring his daughter Cassandra. (The memorial makes itself known in his peripheral vision.) Her work in Hong Kong as Black Bat had been phenomenal so far. Every story he can find of her weaves the same story: Black Bat, hero of the Forgotten. Of the waylaid and the oppressed.

What would they think? Bruce finally turns to the statue, mouthing the words on the plaque to himself.

“Can you promise something for me, Bruce? Just one thing?”

“Anything for you, Jaylad.”

He tears his eyes away.

Damian becomes cagey whenever either of the three vigilantes come up in conversation. It is suspicious, but he has had the lesson very solidly ironed in his mind how unconducive to understanding he can be. So, he gives his son his space.

Despite the child's refined nature, little pieces of him remind him of Jason, far beyond the boy's temper, pride, or even his cursing. Bruce had seen Damian in the library once, his fingers tracing the spine of a newer copy of Huckleberry Finn.

Red and orange flash by his primary monitor, and Bruce pulls himself from his thoughts.

Batman rises, ready to confront whatever ghosts will taunt him in the shadows.

The world roars in her ears, and no matter how hard she tries, Cassandra can’t stop the erratic sequence of deep breaths that claw out her throat. For once she’s glad she’s not wearing her old costume. The mask reminded her too much of smoke inhalation and chains and-.

“Why?” She rasps in a throaty, breathless voice that has not escaped her for years. “Why would you do this?”

“Can’t a mother test the progress of her daughter?” Shiva replies coolly. Her stance gives off nothing, so Cassandra does not deign her a response.

“He went looking for me, you should know.”

Her head snaps up.

“He was curious. A unique girl who can read the body as if it were a book and a unique woman who can do the very same? An unlikely coincidence,” Shiva turns her head away, ducked down as if she had already admitted too much. “He asked me, if it was my choice to leave you with your father.”

“It wasn’t.”

Sandra nods.

“He told me that was, and I quote, ‘a load of shit’.”

“Sounds like Jason,” Cass mutters under her breath. A hush falls between them, not comfortable but not unwelcome either.

“It is not me you came here for,” Sandra says with such conviction that Cass can’t help but gape in her disbelief. Of course, she did. Shiva gave birth to her.

Before she can voice her thoughts, Sandra grasps her shoulder and wraps her arms around Cass.

“You’ll find your brother soon. I can promise you that.”

Gotham rumbles, her shock snaking through the crown of her scalp. She knows that tonight is the night; when events will pass and tear the whole city asunder. For better or for worse, she cannot tell.

But she is eager to find out for herself.

“Think that’s a wrap for tonight?” Jason asks quietly, almost inaudible over the Gotham rain. It’s the only coherent sentence he’s made in days, so Rose takes what she can get.

“Probably, you’re not shanghaiing me into grabbing groceries, right?”

“Maybe,” He chuckles, but even though his voice is filtered by their comms, she can tell it’s forced. “Anyone ever tell you how similar some of our problems are?”

“Really? You realised this just now?” Rose rolls her eyes because, honestly. “I mean, at least your dad isn’t some psycho assassin supervillain.”

“Aww, Rosie, making your old man sad. Truly, I’m hurt,” Hues from orange and blue armour melt from the shadows as Deathstroke emerges, eyeing her. “You don’t wear the uniform like Grant did.”

“It’s not meant to and either way, I barely knew him or Joey.” She draws her blades, trying to hide how much her arms are shaking. It doesn’t help. “No thanks to you.”

“Is that Slade?” Jason’s voice is like music to her ears, relaxing her muscles in the ways she needs.

“I made your brothers stronger,” There’s an edge to Slade’s voice, sharp as the glistening blade he brandishes. Ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. “I suggest you come with me so you can be the same.”

“What, dead because of problems you caused?” She laughs shakily, grimacing under her mask. “I suggest you fuck off.”

“I’m coming, Rose.”

“No can do. There’s a hit on the two of you, and its fait accompli,” Deathstroke makes a ‘what-can-you-do?’ gesture and Rose darts forward, her tears faster than the raindrops that dance on her skin.

Batman has followed the Red Hood for hours now, and he has no idea what to think. He expected someone wielding the Joker’s former identity to be as insane as the Clown Prince himself. Yet, the red helmet only bobs up and down as if it were in conversation rather than rotating listlessly.

Despite how antithetical the new face in Gotham is to his beliefs, some actions catch him off guard about the man.

While he has seen no deaths on this patrol, with every bone the criminal breaks, the same hands offer food to street children and escort working girls to their homes. Bruce is thrown, viscerally, into a memory of the bird that flew beside him to do the very same.

The Dark Knight watches him stalk through Park Row, freeze and then take off in another direction.

It is time.

He pursues the criminal, sprinting across the rooftops of Gotham, gliding above catwalks and fire escapes. Within minutes, he overtakes and blocks the path ahead of Red Hood, who curses and vaults over his body.

Or at least, he tries to as Batman grips the man’s ankle and slams him back into the pavement. Hood never misses a second, drawing a knife and swiping at his limbs. He lets go; the man faces him again, twirling the knife round and round.

“B,” A modulated voice hangs in the air, but there is a quality to it that tickles his conscious, like an old ghost whispering in his ears.

“Red Hood, I suggest you surrender peacefully, or I –.”

“Cut the act, alright? You think that just because you’re Batman, nobody can be above you,” Red Hood laughs. Through the modulator of his helmet, it comes off as hollow. “The truth with a saying like that –.” The knife is stowed away. “– It just means nobody is beneath you either.”

The criminal grapples him; kick, jab, punch, kick again in a rapid dance of attacks that Bruce can barely keep up with. Some of the criminal’s movements are achingly familiar yet so foreign that the composite form nauseates him. Red hood strikes over and over until he actually has him, the Dark Knight, pinned.

“And some of us can’t wait to drag you all the way down.”

Jason had always had a gift for speaking. His sister’s hands may be knives, but his words were bullets.

Breaking out of the Red Hood’s hold, that is what Bruce muses in his mind.

They’ve been at a game of cat and mouse for so long now. Locked in a chase of diving and darting around a maze of alleyways and rooftops. Jason drops on one of them and turns to face his pursuer, who draws short away from him.

“What, can’t work it out?” He triggers the seals on his helmet as he lifts it off. Without the lenses he can see, even in the rain, the second Bruce recognises him. “You really didn’t care enough to remember my name or something?”

“Jason,” Bruce’s tone gives off nothing and everything. “W-Why are you doing this? How are you –.”

“I’m doing this because you refuse to do what needs to be done.” Jason snarls, venom laced in every word. “You want to rule them by fear, but you never go any further with the ones who aren’t afraid.”

“Jason, I don’t under-.”

“I died for your cause, and in less than a year you shove some other kid in the uniform so he can die too!” He is raving now. He also doesn’t care. “You let my murderer run wild and slaughter thousands and when someone finally steps up to do what needed to be done, you cut her out?”

“I had to –.”

“Had to what? Isolate her? Run her out of the only family she’s ever known? She was my sister, my whole fucking world; who believed in you and you left her like she means nothing to you! Cass is gone now, and that is your fault!”

“If you would –.”

“Do you even remember? That the only thing I ever made you swear to me, that you vowed on your life, was that you’d never let her down?” For once this night, his voice isn’t angry or vicious. It is a void, detached from any feeling. “Guess I should have known better.”

He knows, almost intrinsically despite the years, that if there is one thing that Jason has said tonight, those are the words that pierce Batman’s defences. It’s why he lets Bruce rush forward like he wants to. Allows the chase to continue. When he jumps, Jason lands in an apartment that carries the same bloodstains that leaked down his mother’s arms a lifetime ago.

Black Bat arrives in Gotham, and superficially, it is empty. She almost hails Barbara when bright flashes shine in her peripheral vision. Lo and behold, Deathstroke and an unknown are locked in a duel below her.

Cassandra drops from above, and at that moment, she kicks Deathstroke into a wall hard enough to knock him unconscious. His opponent, she notices, stops immediately.

Before her is a girl, hair silver under the moonlight, garbed in orange and black.

Then the Batmobile rounds the corner, a small figure rising from the hatch.

"Black Bat," Robin says, "You have not responded to Oracle, she was-."

Damian's eyes bug out once he notices the girl beside Cassandra. She fully expects him to snarl or draw his ridiculously long katana. Instead, uncharacteristically rushes forward and embraces the girl tightly instead.

"Wilson. A-are you finally assisting us in Gotham?" Damian says, even with his head buried in a shoulder. "Drake may be intelligent, but his incompetence with the sword is impossible to rectify."

"Missed you too, D-man," The girl chuckles and ruffles the boy's hair. "I would help, but what’s up with tall, slim and broody over there?"

Cassandra crosses her arms expectantly at Robin, who obviously only just remembered her presence when he unlatches himself immediately. His cheeks may be red, but Damian still raises his chin proudly.

"I found her, Rose," His body language and eyes seem to sing. "I found his ukht."

The girl spins sharply, wolfish eyes drawn wide. “You’re her,” Rose breathes, awe rippling off her body. “You’re Cass.”

She would have flinched, but the body language is so familiar. Cass tilts her head.

“Yes.”

Rose grabs her arm so hastily that she almost rips it back in shock. But something is so honest about her body language that Cass relents, letting the girl lead her where she is needed.

He kneels, tracing the dark stains. Behind him, Batman pauses. Not even he would dare to disturb the sanctity of this room.

“Jaylad, please -.”

“Don’t call me that. That isn’t who I am,” Jason rounds on Bruce. He gestures to the shattered window, the ripped upholstery, and the bloodstained floor. “This is what I grew up being, what I never wanted anyone else to.”

He taps the insignia on Bruce’s chest with his pistol.

“That, right here, was your promise to people like me. People that needed help and protection,” He spits. “And you couldn’t even do it for the ones closest to you.”

"I just want to-."

"Want to what? Parade your antiquated sense of morality to hide, while the rest of the world suffers for what you refuse to do? Or cast out others from taking it in their own hands?"

Tears are building in his eyes, but he wipes them away while Batman stands ramrod straight.

"I don't think you understand. That you've never understood," The man begins, and Jason gapes because what the hell does that mean? "If I let myself cross that line, even for Joker, I won't ever come back."

"You know what I think about that, Bruce?" Jason breathes deeply, feeling the whispers of the Pit roaring with the heavy rain in his ears. "I think that's a huge self-aggrandizing load of bullshit."

He charges forward, knocking Batman's legs from under him and ramming his face into the ground. Batman is down to his knees before either can even blink.

"And I'm so fucking tired of hearing it."

Jason levels the barrel at Bruce’s forehead, torbernite lining the edges of his vision, engulfing him in an absence.

“What’s the use of you learning to do right when it’s troublesome to do right?”

Then, her voice shatters the tension in the air, gripping his heart and silencing the susurrations of the rain that suffocated his ears.

“When it ain’t no trouble to do wrong, and the wages is just the same.”

“Cass?” The boy in the alleyway says. A gun. An apple in his hand. The girl falters in the doorway, her fist tongue clenches, and she nods.

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sixmorningsafter · 4 years

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An Apology Letter, SMA Love Letter, & Gabi Appreciation Letter

Let me begin this review by apologizing. Not just for waiting almost a year to review this insanely awesome chapter (don’t even tell me I don’t have to; I’ll drive up state just to take you by the shoulders and shake you and that silly thought out of your head; it is an honor and privilege to tell you how awesome you are!), but also for the tone of this review feeling so haggard. 2018 was, as Damon told Kai, “not a good look”, and I feel like it’s digested all the gall and sass and shit-starting energy I usually dole out for these reviews, so here I am, a regurgitation, still holding to the fact that you’re a fabulous writer who deserves all the praise I can possibly muster for your efforts. Despite having a life (or not, considering, ya know, med school), you still post on this page; you’re clearly still carrying the headcanons and the plot and the characters with you. I know the feeling of having the desire to write but feeling too tired, physically and emotionally, or disinterested or unmotivated, or whatever so I can’t even sit in your inbox like “hey love sma! You write soooo good. You’re awesome! and uh when are you gonna update?” Of course, I’d love an update, but I also know you. You want to put out your best work, what you’re at least 95% proud of, and it’s so obvious in Chapter 17.

Side note: I reread Chapter 16 and my review to give myself context and bolster some pizazz just for you.

REPLY: Let me begin my response to this review by apologizing for MY TEARS. Cass, you’re just an absolute light in this bitchy eclipse of a world and your ridiculous kindness radiates off every sassy, stubborn, talented, vulnerable, open-hearted part of you and I’m so, so happy I get to call you a friend. The fact that you took the time to write all of this despite your ridiculously busy, full, grad student, WEDDING-PLANNING (at the time) life, largely because you knew it’d put an idiotic smile on my face? You’re just a gem of a human being. I don’t know what else to say. I’m trying to keep my responses as succinct as possible because I’m so eager to post this and share your insights and writing with everyone else, partly because they always make me and my dumb writing look smarter than it actually is, but mostly because it’s a crime to keep it from the world. Anyway, onward and upward:

Bamon + Kai + the Pig Cadaver

To remind the audience, Bamon had a pretty petty and deep-cutting fight last chapter; Damon got over himself, with the help of Kai (kinda), and now Bamon are on better terms. That being said, these two dumbies are so… nerve-wrackingly good at detaching themselves from conflict. Like, I feel like Steroline would have put up walls and ruminated hard on something as harsh as Damon’s mention of Bonnie’s shitty life, but Bamon are King and Queen of sweeping the bad shit under the rug.

REPLY: I think it’s so cool that you point that out because it made me realize that’s one of my favorite things about writing Bonnie and Damon: they’re ability to both deliver and take hits. They’ve both gone through some really dark, messed up stuff - the kind of stuff people with more traditional upbringings tend to tiptoe around because they don’t know how to talk about it - so it’s almost like to be accepted in their entirety, they need to be around people who are unafraid of that stuff. Unafraid to go there. Unafraid to bring it up, unafraid to cross lines sometimes, unafraid to make jokes about messed up experiences and accept them about each other without flinching. I think they can recover quickly from those kind of blows from each other because in a weird way, at least they’re being acknowledged. At least someone’s talking about it without getting that wincing, deer-in-the-headlights look and acting like it’s a forbidden topic. Obviously in the last chapter, Damon took it too far and was trying to actively alienate her with his comments, but in general I really enjoy writing their budding sense of familiarity with each other. Anyway, good thing I’m being succinct right the review hasn’t even really started GOOD LORD.

Damon jolting Bonnie like she’s being electrocuted is so unbearably cute to me. So domestic. So friendly but also playful but also coupley… I’m dead.

“Wow, you’re really going full nerd.”/”Oh… you sweet summer child, you haven’t even begun to see full nerd.” In my previous review, I (demanded) mentioned wanting more nerd!Bonnie, and you delivered. What an honor, truly.

“It was like he’d [Kai] never left, except now he was surrounded by a bunch of wires and a mini Tesla coil.” I don’t know if I ever mentioned this, but I think it’s so funny and silly that you embedded some serious sci-fi shit in this romcom fic. Like, we’re really out here, considering is Kai an alien? Can Kai really teleport or “dissolve in and out of the time-space continuum as he pleases”? He’s not just creepy or socially inept. He’s also fucking extraterrestrial.

lmfao in chapter 16 or 15 or whichever it was where they explored Kai’s apartment while he went swan-hunting, I had to make a choice about whether to keep things semi-realistic or just go balls-to-the-wall cray re: Kai and I think we all know which route I decided to take 😂

“Still, it was a surprisingly appealing thought, the idea of having some kind of effect on him.”/ “Snagging the unsnaggable.”/ “Ruffling the unruffable.” We out here, making up words and shit; my Word doc spell-check is having a field day. But her observation about having dealt with guarded people kind of relates to what I was tryna say earlier on: both Damon and herself are very guarded, and her ability to see that nothing truly sticks to him is reflective of that same for her.

“It was like he was coated in oil, like his entire personality was adapted to glide through life without ever catching on anything around him.” / “Even the good things.” Talk about knife to the gut (why yes, this is a reference to the future Steroline conversation, which I am using to demonstrate how fucking enamored I am by this understanding of Damon’s character). I feel like Damon started as the kid thinking “if things are good, then something bad is gonna happen” to “good? bad? what are those and, more importantly, who fucking cares?”

Just another day of Cass making me feel like a far better writer than I am because she always gets exactly what I’m going for and then explains it better than I do. That’s precisely his trajectory, man. He went from a kid with no control of his own life, constantly bracing for impact, to a kid who realized nothing can control if you don’t give a fuck. If good things don’t make you happy and bad things don’t make you sad, you’re always at equilibrium. You’re always at a steady-state. And most importantly, you’re at a steady-state that no outside factor controls.

“Maybe the oil coat went more than skin-deep.” Foreshadowing! I like this conversation a lot though. Insight about Bonnie’s past (another gracious gift promised last review, thank you SMA goddess for such a blessing) and her PTSD and embarrassment about the shit show that is her parents.

Bonnie’s “I wish I could turn it off like that.” Speaking of shit shows, nice nod to canon.

😂😂😂

“Was that—vulnerability?” Yes baby, revel in it! Idk if you did this on purpose, but it’s like Damon is leaning into his previous realization of her cracking his “varnish” (just realizing his description of a glossy seal is an almost visual parallel to Bonnie’s description of him being slick with oil (I’m thinking like petroleum)… anyways). Like, “she’s already seen me lose my fucking mind in the cellar, being a little vulnerable about it won’t hurt, right?” I mean, yes, but also, Bonnie is a shit-starter too, babe.

“Were those—emotions?” / “I hate knowing you.” / “Are you okay? Do you need some water?” and later paired with “How does it feel to be a human being?” / “Stupid.” / “That means you’re doing it right.”

You know how I feel about Kai’s “Friends!” He is so weird, and I love it, but I’m also afraid that I love it. Thanks!

Yeeeesssss, I wanted to show him slowly starting to adjust to the fact that she’s seen things. Him. And you know what, here they are anyway. The world’s still spinning. She’s still being her weirdo competitive self. So maybe it’s not the worst thing to have (albeit accidentally) let someone in a little. A big motivation for me re: Bamon in this chapter was getting them to the point where they eased into being comfortable sharing things with each other. Not everything, obviously, but way more than they share with the average person. Kind of like a ‘well we’re stuck in this ridiculous situation and we’re unexpectedly more alike than we think so maybe we just lean in a little’. So I’m really glad that’s what you got out of this, WOOT.

Kai’s everyone’s friendly neighborhood son/serial killer and I think it’s best to just let yourself adore him and hope for a minimal body count.

The Matt Talk

I think I already told you I was so emotionally distraught this chapter. If you’re new to SMA, hi I’m Cassandra and I’m always an emotional mess when it comes to Gabi’s writing. But, this was some next level shit. You’ve said so many times you’re worried about how these emotional scenes go, but like fuck dude. You went hard, and it was so difficult for me not to be actually crying. Idk, I’ve never been in Caroline’s situation or known anyone to go through this, but the whole injustice of it, you know? The possibility that any woman could be going through this or has gone through this. I’m not belittling the men who have been abused in their relationships, of course. What I am saying is if I am taking this personally, having never experienced it, but as a female, knowing this could very well happen, that means your writing is fucking spot on.

Full-disclosure, your entire breakdown of this scene is just the most beyond fantastic thing that I don’t even want to break it up with shitty responses. I’m pretty sure reading your insights about it affected me more than the entire multi-week process of actually writing it, so idk how you did that but here we are. For the millionth time, your responses are the only reason I think maybe all my fumbling and exasperated editing is somehow producing something half-okay. I’m dying whale noises. Bye.

Setting the scene up with Steroline in the tub, for being their poetic selves tryna be symmetrical in their emotional moments and emphasizing how thick the silence around them is… oof dude. I know you have that “movie” mentality when you write, and idk how you fucking do it, but it definitely translates. Idk if you’ve ever been in a moment like this, where you need to say something of Importance to someone of Importance, but your voice has just gone on vacation for a minute, and you’re sitting there with an empty tongue, and, in my experience, the person tries to prompt you about what you’re trying to say, but I’ve been in moments like this. So, this set up was so poignant for me. Luckily, she’s talking to Stefan, the boy who listens to even Rebekah earnestly and wholeheartedly.

Caroline’s Gazania daisies metaphor: shit breaks my heart. How long did she think about this? The metaphor is like… a detachment. Like, how light bends in water. Her story is the light, the flower metaphor is the water, allowing the story to refract, to be that much more removed from the reality.

“A flicker of intimacy based not on things they’d experienced together, but rather things they’d experienced apart.” I think it loops back to Bamon too, whether neither are eloquent enough to make that seamless connection. I think that should be the tag line of each ship; these very different people are tied to one another by feeling what they’ve felt and relating it back to what the other(s) has (have) felt.

I think you’ve very skillfully woven canon and SMA for Matt’s story. TVD made him the human golden boy, and SMA has him resentful and dark… and it just goes to show how environment can really shape a character’s outcome. tvd!Matt saw the supernatural as the reason his life was so shitty and suddenly had a purpose; sma!Matt didn’t have that scapegoat, so without rhyme or reason for his shitty circumstance, he fabricated that it was somehow Caroline.

Fucker.

“Senior year was kind of a train wreck” to “We were still okay, though. Still us.” Rereading this part made me seriously think of like… a slingshot. Like, all of this is just leading up to the snap and the release of Matt’s true colors. And how devastatingly it was that Caroline didn’t know, honestly couldn’t know, that it was going to happen.

Shit like Matt being mad at Caroline for proudly blurting out she got accepted into NYU when Vicky had just OD’ed is so fucked up to me. To be actually mad about it. Bro, stay mad about it. But that’s the point, isn’t it? That this was the final straw for him, the last thing to tip him into batshit abusive fuck mode.

As a therapist, I could easily say, he is clearly shaped by his circumstances, he didn’t have enough support or self-esteem to fully develop the core values and strengths that he needed to not become this abusive piece of shit, that there might be some self-awareness by the way he tries to remedy a bad fight with a great breakfast (or a learned behavior to get approval again). Even if I do consider those things, irl and even with Matt, it’s in no way condonable, and I don’t think I could ever be able move from this point of view.

“She’d lived like that for months, a blur of turtlenecks and concealer, of overbright smiles and obsessive thoughts, of guilt and blame and normalizing the abnormal, of questioning if what she thought was happening was actually happening.” / “Could actually be happening.” Just reading this summarizes all the females who are in relationships like this, who question whether their partners’ could actually be raping them… ugh. It breaks my heart even now, writing this review.

(Honestly, I had to step away and resume the next day)

Caroline’s comeback: “He was staring at the old Caroline. The one he hadn’t broken in. The one that ran on gall and instincts, that didn’t dim herself for anyone, that’d jump in front of a bus for the people she loved… She’d grown back into her skin. Unshrunken till she was towering over him, a bright, brilliant light staring down at a meager lick of flames.” This whole bit was so good, so relieving, so satisfying. I know what Matt did still haunts her, but Caroline coming back and reclaiming who she is, even to present time, is so, so satisfying.

“Let’s be real, though, Bonnie could probably beat us both up.” / “Definitely.” – these were my thoughts when Caroline was defending her lol.

The Universe Speech: ilysm but also fuck you for being so good at this lol. I am so mad at how good you are at this, and you’re kinda like shruggy shoulders, I’m-just-trying-my-best. Get your humble ass out of here. “I think you’re a universe. I think you’re full of suns—and comets and black holes and everything in between. And when one sun burns out, you’ll just flare into a million more, unapologetic and infinite, because nothing… not pain, not heartbreak, not even the entire exec board of Emory apparently, can stop a universe from expanding.”

And Caroline immediately clicking with the metaphor? (rewriting her Gazania metaphor story I hope) And she runs with it like, “It couldn’t help but make her feel like maybe she hadn’t lost anything. / Maybe she’d just outgrown it.” and “An infinite, chaotic expanse of dazzling light and annihilating dark… capable of anything but responsible for nothing outside of stretching out toward an invisible horizon fiercely, constantly, even in the face of billions of years of gravity pulling her back”. THIS IS MY SHIT DUDE. First off, this visual representation of a person is so beautiful and inspiring and so full of grace and forgiving, you know what I mean? It just shouts volumes to how okay it is to fail sometimes or to feel Feelings, and how it shouldn’t and couldn’t be used against her. It’s literally the expanded and improved version of “reach for the stars” – more like be the universe, among the stars, and reach for the unknown. BIG OOF.

“I can’t possibly follow that up with my dumb Elena drama” / “Hey, not a competition.” – someone recently quoted someone else to me, saying It’s not the suffering Olympics, and it’s resonated with me so hard, dude.

Steroline throwing back things the others have said, Stefan’s “Whatever nice thing you feel like you have to say, it’s okay” and Caroline’s “You can’t escape me! / I’m unapologetic and infinite!”

I don’t remember if its this chapter or last, but Stefan indulging in Caroline’s playful side, and Caroline recognizing Stefan’s sassypants is by far my favorite Steroline Thing ™ in this story. Parallelly, Bonnie’s Damon-ain’t-shit attitude, and Damon’s she’s-more-than-I-anticipated revelation is my favorite Bamon Thing ™.

I am overwhelm-sion.

I am aegoifhjaeoeagidhy.

That scene took me weeks of editing to get in a remotely publishable place and even then I was like WELP SURE HOPE THIS ISN’T OFFENSIVE FLAMING GARBAGE LOL ONLY ONE WAY TO FIND OUT *POST* so. Needless to say. This response means el mundo. I am in full turtle.

But real quick, exiting emotional turtle stance to say that I feel like you and I have always been super in sync about liking writing that celebrates messiness and imperfections and humanity in all it’s mistake-ridden earnestness so I’m not surprised you liked the universe metaphor as much as I did. Fuck suns and their one-dimensional asses. We stan universes in this bitch. Asteroids. Supernovas. Blow some things up. Crash into some planets. Sink into some really deep darknesses. It’s okay. There will always be bright, brilliant stars all around you, too.

Bamon, Kai, Bonnie’s Feral Sweet Tooth, and The Food Fight

Speak of the devil: “She shook her head, lips curling into a droll ‘get over yourself’ of a smile, and for some reason, something about the look stuck out to him a bit.” AND, MY FAV: “For some reason, he liked it.” YES YES YES YES.

He’s hopeless.

The “Love It” arc (why yes I did use that word very specifically to refer to the sassy snap). On a tangent, Kai on Twitter, Kai on Pinterest… for an alien, he’s very adaptive.

He’s got his entire home planet hooked on snapchat.

Oh, here it is again: “Now that he knew what a genuine fucking weirdo she was, he was a little curious about what she’d actually been thinking.” I know fluffy moments such as Never Have I Ever (before shit hit the fan) are most likely over, but if they were to return, I suggest Truth or Dare, and Damon asks Bonnie what she thought of him when he’d met Caroline (and her) at that club. Listen, both Damon and I want to know. I’m not saying make it happen, but I am.

There’s another dinner coming for their last snowed in night because I’m nothing if not repetitive and I think Truth or Dare is a trope I can definitely work in. I mean, I wouldn’t want it to feel left out given that I’ve used every other fanfic trope known to mankind.

“Wow!” Bonnie exclaimed, leaning forward to peer at the uncanny cake topper with a bewildered look. He even got her one earring right. – I’m cryinggg

He’s special.

“Can we just… go through what all of these heavenly things are, because I may look calm, but I’m actually losing my mind.”

“Absofruitely!” This is a mine of just so many fucking gems.

Kai Knowing: I feel like he’s just a mind-reader, because he already stated he can’t read people very well. But I absolutely love how both Bonnie and Damon are like, oh yeah totally super in love you betcha bud, and Kai’s like, I see it for realsies this time. Bamon 4 Eva bb. Love at first bicker, honestly.

lolololol I just loved the idea that their growing connection was so goddamn obvious that even the self-declared Worst Person Reader Ever was like ‘wowza so this is love huh?’

The Food Fight. I love the “She was glaring at him, eyelashes coated in frosting” line so much. It’s both cute and endearing, and the fact that Damon is paying that close attention.

“Cupcake Quidditch seems kind of fun.”

“It’s stupid dangerous, not to mention a giant waste of food.” Lol Bonnie.

Bonnie being on the shooting team—and Damon also being good at shooting. AU of an AU where SMA Bamon are spies or assassins (Mr. & Mrs. Smith). But only sma bamon. Fuck canon.

We don’t know her.

But also yes to this AU. @coraxes once wrote this awesome drabble where Bonnie and Damon met as teenagers and because of it I’ve always wanted to do some alternate timeline where they grew up in the same city, weaving in and out of the same seedy social circle as teens, flickering in and out of the periphery of each other’s lives, but always having this strange tension whenever their paths happened to cross, you know? Just these rare, vaguely loaded interactions where they both saw glimpses of the fact that the other was smarter than this, better than this, you know? That they both were. The point of this all being that I could imagine them both showing off whatever it is they know about guns, lololol.

“It’s not very captain-y to bathe in the blood of my enemies either but hell if that’s going to stop me.”

She’s also special.

“Temporary timeout” leading to the “Truce” leading to “she suddenly hit him with the look, like Bambi and Tiny Tim and sixteen puppies and every Pixar character ever created had been thrown into one of those face-combining apps” which ultimately leads to Damon’s “fine” and his absolute bewilderment “He just blinked in confusion, unsure of what the hell had just happened.”

From “he held out his [launcher] and she stared at it for a beat before grudgingly taking it” to “in the split-second before she spoke, he suddenly knew exactly what was about to happen” STRAIGHT UP, UNFILTERED GOLD. Like, there’s no other explanation, really. You’re the Midas of Belvafore. I’m calling it, it has been declared, no take backsies or arguments from you, young lady.

I AM NO SUCH THING BUT I WILL TAKE IT ANYWAY.

The Elena Talk

Stefan’s safe space being Bonnie’s room – my heart. There are a lot of things I don’t like about canon, you know, but it would have made so much sense to have a stefonnie friendship (more than bamon, honestly). I didn’t know I needed it until SMA lol.

Listen, I was never into it until I wrote this. I don’t even know where it came from - I legit think the clips for the first trailer I made just worked out that way so I rolled with it, but once I started writing it it felt so natural? They just bounce off each other so easily, it’s one of my fave dynamics to write in a fic full of dynamics I love to write.

The glow-in-the-dark stars: I can totally imagine Stefan helping Bonnie move into every new place, and once all the boxes are in, he’s like, all right now for the real reason I helped you move in, and he rearranges the constellations by memory.

LMAO YES.

The fire escape call backs lol. I feel like every single person in this universe is a shit-starter—it just comes easier to Daroline lol.

The segue from the glow-in-the-dark stickers to “Bright things fade” in reference to the bright, warm, gooey-ness that was Stelena. You already know, I am impressed times a thousand, as always. I also think using this space theme between them is interesting and something to be explored. (I feel like an English teacher, and like maybe it was intentional, maybe it wasn’t. Either way, there is something there, and honestly, as the writer, it was your gut feeling to go with this theme, so maybe it was a subconscious effort, if not fully intentional). (Fight me).

We can go with me having complicated, writery instincts with layers and intricacies that are all very intentional or we can go with me not being creative enough to come up with another metaphor.

The Meet-Cute has a quality that makes it perfect for Stelena. Yes, you are the author, and yes, you created what is ‘perfect’ for them, and yet? It could have easily been a different meet-cute, not Stefan’s speechlessness or her instant smitten-ness. God, he is such a Ted Mosby. But, at least, he’s learning from his Elena experience, that love may not exactly work like that. Maybe love-at-first-sight is a thing (hard maybe), but like Caroline soon alludes to, it’s more devastatingly impactful if love is grown as between two friends or even two people who don’t even like each other (both ships, honestly).

THE TED MOSBIEST. I honestly had trouble writing some of that scene because I was trying to walk the fine line between ‘this guy is sappy and unrealistic but ultimately earnest’ and ‘this guy has imposed wildly unrealistic ideals onto the world around him and it comes from a place of entitlement and privilege and neither the narrative nor the characters condone it’. I’m a big hater of the Ted Mosby’s of the world because I feel like they go through the motions of ‘growing’ but actually just keep doing the exact same thing and falling head over heels for girls that ‘disappoint them’ without ever seriously looking at themselves, so what I tried to do in the scene was show the side of Stefan that’s kind of messed up AND the side of him that realizes he’s kind of messed up. I wanted Caroline’s original dislike of him to make a little more sense, but also wanted to show you why he’s different from the prototypical Nice Guy. He knows that he was unrealistic. He knows that he purposefully turned a blind eye to red flags. He knows that he was putting too much weight on something that had a flimsy foundation at best. But he’s still human and admits that he’s never felt something that electric before, despite all that knowledge, and that’s why he hasn’t been able to shake this for two years. SO yeah, he’s an interesting one to pin down.

Sidenote about the Salvatores: I think it’s interesting that the first person Rebekah calls is Stefan, Stefan calls Lexi. Does that mean Lexi calls Freya? Freya probably doesn’t call a damn one of them lol. It’d be interesting if Lexi or Freya called Rebekah, for non-logical thinking, you know what I mean? I feel like Freya (even though it should be impossible to feel anything about her, considering she’s just a thought at this point) is very well-grounded, and she has a harder time thinking with her heart—and that’s why she might call someone like Rebekah. Omg, could you imagine that they all want to call Stefan, but if he’s busy, they call one another like, “Okay what would Stefan say? What would Stefan do?” Lol, headcanon.

Honestly this is perfect. And you’ve got Freya down to a T so idk how that happened. One of my fave things is getting headcanons about the Salvatores because they’ve basically had like one scene (two for Rebekah) on the phone and yet everyone just gets them. Every headcanon I get is spot-on. It’s delightful.

“Sounds like you and me”… “You said scowls and blizzards and vomit-inducing disdain, right?” lol oh Caroline. Allergic to a sincere moment, either reacting very, very violently or with a joke to help alleviate his discomfort.

She’s a syrupy little thing.

“Nothing could diminish the drug-rush feeling that’d flooded his veins”. I think it’s interesting that his reaction is “Nothing could ever make him forget that he was capable of feeling that much” and not that he wanted to feel that feeling again. It seems like him staying with Elena was him resupplying that feeling, but irl, it seems like people are more likely to relationship-hop, thinking that the relationship/the significant other was at fault, that love in its full drug-like capacity is worth it and they need, need, need it. It’s interesting that he turned inward and actively avoids feeling that way. He later says “It’s so hard not to want to feel it again” but what keeps him from feeling that way again? Is it Caroline’s fear of a person’s potential to ruin? Or maybe it’s just that he hadn’t found someone who is like that? Does Stefan even date around? I’m curious about your insight.

This actually took me a while to pin down in the story because canon was so all over the place with Stefan’s love life - I feel like he had a new love-of-his-life-from-the-past every season and if it wasn’t this random guest star, it was the other one, you know? He was kind of a serial monogamist in canon and yet still managed to have this distinct air of believing in a singular soulmate/’Elena’ lowkey being the be all, end all, you know? So I basically ignored that confusing shit and conceptualized him as a very picky person when it came to love. He doesn’t fall easily - or before Elena, ever. He mentions dating Valerie in high school and I’m sure he went on a few dates here and there in early college, but Elena was a punch in the face for him. He didn’t know what it was about her. He’d never felt that way about anyone before, not even close. Love wasn’t even really the drug-rush, it was her, specifically. That’s why he hasn’t felt it again, that’s why he’s scared he never will - it was entirely tied to Elena. If we wanted to analyze the ‘why’ of it all - why her, why would someone so picky just see someone and feel something they’d never felt before - I would probably say that Stefan grew up with a very specific picture of what he wanted in life, and for whatever reason, she looked exactly like what he’d imagined. The dark hair. The soft features. The romantic eyes. I think it also ties into canon a little, too, since in TVD he was immediately drawn to Elena because she looked exactly like Katherine. Immediate, visual enrapture. So yeah, long story short, I don’t see him as a guy who dates around a lot. I see him as a guy who, pre-Elena, thought he knew exactly what he wanted and never really compromised until he (thought) he found it. And now I see him as a guy who realizes that was an incredibly stupid way to think about love but worries it’s the only approach he’s capable of/that’ll make him feel that incredible feeling.

“But I’m scared I will anyways… And you’re scared you won’t.” Oof. Biggest oof.

I like how Stefan says he doesn’t want to sound like a cliché, but he’s a Disney prince. It only makes sense that he would feel that way, you know? It only makes sense that his life would play out that way. Who are this boys’ parents? How did they indoctrinate him? Or, rather, what thing made him this way?

He’s a mess. This is what happens when you’re the lone golden boy in a family of six and everyone indulges your unrealistic bullshit as cute/funny.

Your writing, for this movie montage of their love, is so perfect. Rude. The imagery! The word-choice! The whole thing reminds me of a caramel-candy commercial, where everything is warm and gooey and slow-motion. Clearly I’m not as cultured to compare to a Sundance film lol, but nonetheless, you did an excellent job describing that warm-toned, rose-colored-glasses kind of love.

Wow, I just realized how much Stefan sounds like the stereotypical ‘male author’. Except he has some decency not to describe the weight of her breasts or her aura during sex (eyeroll). Even his “and he was happy to be her anchor to that for the rest of their lives if she needed him to be”. Idr when, but Stefan shakes off some fairytale notion, saying ‘life doesn’t work that way’ or something – that is character development that we didn’t know we needed!

CAN YOU IMAGINE STEFAN DESCRIBING THE WEIGHT OF ELENA’S BREASTS now I need it

Yeah, honestly, I already said it but I’ll say it again - half the battle of writing that scene was giving Stefan just enough Ted Mosby/Male Author vibes to make him realistically flawed but not going too far as to making him someone you’re actively not rooting for anymore. I think you make a great point, though - he’s growing out of it and recognizing the role he played in his relationship failures and I think that’ll hopefully be what sets him apart.

Also, kudos for the Colorado trip call back. I think it’s very telling how invested and how thought out your process is for these characters by how you using some passing details like, Steroline skirting around their Matt and Elena stories, and then actually using them in their ‘origin’ stories… like, again, you didn’t have to, but you! went! there! and you did a phenomenal job, dude. Again, just a testament to how invested you are. Sure, you could say you wrote it out of order or something brush-off-y, but to even consider, oh hey continuity is a thing, is great. We stan an Awesome Writer!

lmao I’m so happy you get as much enjoyment as I do from little details like that - I’m usually pretty terrible at it because updating within a normal time frame? Don’t know her. But anytime I see a chance to make a random detail I threw in years ago feel remotely deliberate, I’m all over that shit.

“He felt the barest flicker of defensiveness shoot through him… instead he thought back to the trip”. Hopefully, before I submit this, I would have submitted a list of headcanons I have. One of them is that Stefan’s so well-adjusted via his introspection, that I think one of this parents are a therapist of sorts. I’m just calling it.

oooo, I LIKE that. Largely because Therapist Parents would annoy the everloving hell out of Lexi, lmao - I feel like she’s the prototypical daughter of therapists who goes out of her way to be unpredictable just so her parents can’t psychoanalyze her/figure her out.

I wonder if Stefan still thinks he and Elena could have OTP. Like, he says “or, at least, as much sense as the idea of her and a guy like Liam will ever make to me”. Because if Liam is like canon Liam… she and Liam made total sense (aside from her still being a vampire). Oh but wait… Elena is an artist, not pre-med. Because Elena x Liam made sense in TVD, being pre-med kids, flirty and competitive and ambitious. If she’d never known about the supernatural world, it would make sense for her to be with a Liam, and not a Damon, because Liam is the human version of intense/consuming… Sorry about that canon tangent. Canon, I don’t know her?

Who is she? I think I went to high school with her but we weren’t friends.

What’s SMA Liam like? Or is Stefan’s bitterness getting in the way of seeing, maybe, that Liam did make sense for Elena?

Re: Liam - it’s basically what you said above. Very different from canon Liam. Definitely played more of the canon Damon role re: this cocky, morally ambiguous bad boy that appealed to the darker/superficial/more selfish parts of Elena (that she felt she had to hide from Stefan). I think at the start of the story, there’s still a part of Stefan that thinks Stelena was OTP but the further it goes and the deeper he falls into this thing with Caroline, the more that part disappears. I think it’s really easy to idolize something when you have nothing to compare it to, and even more so when you have no closure so you stay stuck on it and time keeps passing it and making it more and more immortalized. With Caroline in the picture now, though, I think it’s shifting his relationship with Elena into a different, more exposing light and revealing some of the insubstantiality of it all.

Elena’s “it’s was like all those awful parts of me were allowed to exist again” speech is so heartbreaking. I know we’re here to cheer for Stefan, be on his ‘side’, and in no way am I saying cheating is condonable, but it’s another great example of how a writer can make you root for both sides of a broken-up couple. A mentor of mine once told me the sign of a good therapist is for each person in a couple to think you’re on their side. And I’m applying this to writing now. Not, in anyway, can I apply this to Matt (fuck that guy), but I get it for Elena. And it totally makes sense that Stefan was like that, or has a potential to be that way.

This was exactly what I was going for so I’m so happy that’s what your fancy talented therapist brain got out of it.

I love how Caroline’s conversation of ‘you can be this way and the situation was not your fault’. Basically, to say to Stefan ‘you don’t know if you could have loved the real Elena’ and ‘you didn’t deserve what Elena did’ is such a good conversation to have. Because knowing this Soft Boy and knowing how most people feel when their partners cheat, it would make sense for him to blame himself. It seems he does that by the way he holds himself back from doing that to Caroline.

Wow, he even comes to this realization, “he hadn’t been able to reconcile the idea of both of them being a little right”. Don’t I look dumb lol… time to retreat….

NO because as I was writing that dialogue I kept getting it wrong and either making it sound like Caroline was blaming him completely or too much on his side and I was struggle-bussing to strike the exact balance you’re describing so NOT DUMB AT ALL. Exactly what I was flailingly going for.

Caroline’s “Okay, now, you’re just indulging.” Another headcanon, Steroline have made a rule to say, “do you need a moment” for any self-indulgent emotion in a conversation. But they only allow a moment. That’s it. ~feel and let go~

Wow, Caroline a combination of all the Salvatore Sisters? Works like a Freya, thinks like a Bekah, talks like a Lexi.

😂this just got vaguely Freudian but also, yes.

“I don’t want to be the guy who makes people feel like they have to pretend around him. That guy sucks.”/ “That guy does kind of suck” BUT ALSO “You may have a certain gooey idealism about you that makes people want to, I don’t know, believe in good things.” My fairly-new/just-for-SMA Steroline heart!

There’s hope for them yet.

The Knife Speech: yes. Wouldn’t it have been kinda funny if, instead of pretending to stab herself in the stomach, she pretended to stab him, a perfect foreshadowing. Also her “I’d imagine that’s when you’re really fucked, so… best is yet to come for you, Salvatore.” BUT WAIT. Perhaps the knife stabbing of oneself is the imagery of allowing one’s self to be stabbed, to be gutted, to be vulnerable enough to be in love. (Here goes English-teacher Cassandra again, please forgive her, she’s eager and truly a huge fan).

This is a perfect example of you making me sound like a hundred times better of a writer than I actually am because I legitimately do not remember who she pretended to stab in the gut and I also thought you were going to say ‘wouldn’t it have been kinda funny if she actually stabbed him and he died gurgling in shock’ and was ready to enthusiastically agree.

On a different note: “Wouldn’t you like to know.” / He’d very much like to know. How does one create such sexual tension in one small exchange? Big oof again.

Honestly this makes my life because I always feel like I’m SO BAD at getting these mood whiplash lines to pack enough punch. Like they always do in my head when I can see the delivery and the camera shot and whatnot, but when I write it I’m always like ‘eh. I mean. I guess’. TRUST YOURSELVES FRIENDS.

Bamon in the Bathroom

First off: “In my defense, you goaded me into playing” / “Yeah, well in my defense, I didn’t know I was releasing the fucking Kraken”. L O L

Bonnie’s winning – “But hey, a win was a win, right?” – I love it. Never underestimate Bonnie Cutthroat-Competition Bennett!

“You’re kind of a maniac, you know that?” paired so deliciously with “Didn’t say I wasn’t a maniac, too.” AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I think I forgot how much I loved bamon and all their goodness? Especially your version. Ahhhh!

“You know, for a doctor, you’re really bad for my health.” Bad for your heart! ‘Cause she’s got it racing! Oooo, burn!

That’s such a Kai line I’m dying.

Bonnie getting all defensive and going off about how she doesn’t mind “being the person that someone needs at the end of the day” (serious Stefan vibes, doesn’t he say this at one point also?), and Damon being all, like, heart-eyes and shit, calling her ‘surprising’ and stuff. Good content, yes, yes, please continue.

Ooo, didn’t even make that parallel between Stefan and Bonnie (because I am, in fact, a garbage author) but it’s so cool that you bring that up because on Stefan, that line can easily sound a little self-aggrandizing - it’s coming from (again) a place of privilege, of playing the hero because he’s had this charmed life and it’s the right thing to do, but from Bonnie, it’s almost the exact opposite. She didn’t have that growing up. She was the person without anyone in her corner. So with her, it’s not a hero complex, it’s a victim-turned-survivor motivation. I feel like I’m being really mean to Stefan in these responses lmao I gotta back off, I adore that kid. Just keepin’ it real.

“Maybe I’ve handled enough” in a playfully dramatic way, and yet, Bonnie’s full realization that (the man of her dreams) Damon probably has been through enough, and she knew what that was like. Sad boy hours.

Sad boy days.

Bonnie avoiding tension by returning to tending to his wound, Damon avoiding tension by returning to his sexy-mysterious-guy vibes. I almost titled this “SMA and the Many, Many Ship Parallels”.

The whole scene that I shall call “I go by daddy, actually” which is just vague enough to make me laugh wildly in this library full of undergrads studying for finals—and because the scene is so ridiculous and hilarious and so, so Bamon, I will die cackling.

I’m brainstorming ways to bring more ‘daddy’ energy into chapter 18.

Belavafore

“Why are you like this?” / “We’re embracing the great outdoors!” Use what he loves against him, honey, you’re doing great.

“Okay, you’re right, I’m sorry.” / “No, you’re not.” / “No, I’m not.” / “Would it help if I said I’m proud of you? … I really am.”

I love how much lighter Steroline has become. Like Caroline just casually throwing the responsibility of “Go for it” / “Forgive yourself for something” to Stefan is so… unlike her. I feel like she’s the type that shows people up whenever they’re afraid to do something, like tell their waitress this is not what they ordered. Because that’s exactly it. This whole forgiving themselves thing was not what Caroline ordered- just a side of cheesy jokes on Stefan.

GIRL YOU AND ME BOTH, I was so tired of writing their tension oh my Gooooooodsicles. I basically spent sixteen chapters trying to earn the ability to write them this light and this comfortable and this open with each other so I SAW MY CHANCE AND TOOK IT.

“I can’t believe we’re listening to happy4eva dot com.” / “We’re not, we’re listening to me” / “Is that any better?” I agree with Caroline and am fully happy to admit I am in love with Stefan’s sass.

“Some of us are capable of taking this seriously” / “What makes you think I wasn’t serious about the printer ink?”

Leash him.

Caroline’s “Here was all she needed to be” realization and acceptance is giving me so much life, I’m teeming with so much love and pride and straight up inspiration, dude, bless.

Caroline’s cathartic sobbing, and Stefan’s, “I think you might be forgiving yourself.” My whole heart is just FULL and maybe I TOO started crying, YOU CANNOT PROVE ANYTHING.

Filed under: scenes I wrote horribly the first few times and still was not convinced I got right by the time I finally posted it so thank God it made someone feel something because ya girl was skressed.

Bonnie going onto the fire escape without coat or shoes, despite hating the cold, just to be there for Caroline, to hug her and be happy for her forgiveness journey is the most Bonnie thing, and I am living for it.

Tag-line for Damon: “She could always count on Damon to be a shithead”.

Bonne saying her date was horrible, Damon mentioned Kai still being present – so mom and dad of them! Did I mention this in a previous review? Maybe. Ugh, I love them so much, I don’t mind if I ramble the same few things about it and your incredible writing of them.

Baroline deciding for the boys ‘this is something we are doing’. *arc snap* love it!

“You jump, I jump, Jack.” I’ll be honest with ya, when I first read this, I was like, dude I love you madly but it feels a little too late to bring this friendship quirk up in here, but then I was like, who the fuck says? You did a great job explaining the context of it, and I love it! Please bring it back! You know, when you write more…

LMFAO no girl I thought the exact same thing, so much so that I went back and edited it into the chapter where Bonnie apologizes to Caroline after her bender. It was totally too late to introduce but I was like ‘I don’t really know what else to put here so we’re gonna pretend this has always been a thing, join me friends in this who cares revisionist approach to writing’.

Steroline being protective of Bonnie’s feelings paralleling with Damon’s protectiveness of Bonnie’s physical wellbeing. It’s just much like, ‘I’m not good at the emotions thing, may I offer you a blanket and some boots instead?” Very in-character of him, this is good, good stuff.

YES, exactly what I was going for! I feel like my entire reaction to your review is either going to be YES EXACTLY YOU WORDSMITH or ACTUALLY I AM FAR TOO DUMB TO HAVE DONE THAT ON PURPOSE BUT I LOVE IT LET’S GO WITH IT.

Bonnie using the ‘you were mean to me’ to get Damon to participate!!!

Caroline’s only known Damon for a month?????? This would make sense, a little, but also it feels like so much longer. (this isn’t me side-eyeing the author, she’s busy and doing important things, but also…)

😂😂😂😂

Bonnie’s prompting of Damon, “And?” felt very much like when you’re at the doctor’s office, and they’re listening to your heart, and they’re prompting you to take a deep breath “again” and quiet and waiting. Was this on purpose? Even his “how many do I have to do?” and her “Just one more.” Feels very much like when they’re in the bathroom, and he’s being a literal child under her medical care.

This definitely falls under the ‘not smart enough to have done that on purpose but I love it so let’s go with it’ category.

“Fuck you world, I’m perfect!” inspired by our resident sociopath (who has no regrets, naturally lol). LOVE. It really aligns with Caroline’s “here” realization, and later, Damon’s “okay, noted” response. It’s kinda messy of them, considering they’re clearly not, but the acceptance and willingness to say, fuck you world, I don’t need to conform to whatever, is so nice. So, so good. So much growth. And the title name-drop! And all of them cheering one another on (especially Stefan)!

“…Damon sasses, making Bonnie’s bright laugh even louder, and in that exact moment, with Damon’s hand caught in some kind of Z-snap and Bonnie gasping for air and Stefan’s eyes crinkled from the size of his grin, she felt something shift for her… And looking at the laughing faces surrounding her, their movements arrested in some kind of vibrant slow-motion, the glint of the flurrying snow around them like magic, she couldn’t help but think that it had to be something good.” (okay maybe now I will admit to more crying).

Kai vs the Neighbor and Caroline’s realization of ‘this guy is crazy I like him’. She doesn’t like a cat, but Kai, she’s here for. “That was amazing!” / “Thanks! I still don’t understand you.” love it!

I think I’ve edited this scene (what don’t I edit) since you read it but I think all the parts that stood out to you were ones I mostly kept the same, so that makes me really happy. I had a blast writing it, particularly Kai vs. The Neighbor and everyone just giving in to hedonistic self-acceptance for that one, sparkling minute. It felt needed and I’m so glad it seemed to trigger all the right emotions.

Scrabble, Backstories, THE Kiss

I know this is not what I was supposed to take away from this, but I like Bonnie’s dark moments, lol. Like her joke about her mom not being around. Like, it makes her more real. Like Stefan’s sass makes him more real. No one is just the One Trait that ‘defines’ them, whatever the fuck that means.

I love writing those moments. I talked about this a few paragraphs up, but a big part of why I love writing Bonnie and Damon is exactly those moments - the ones where she can make a joke about her absentee mom and Damon can laugh at the idea of Kai assassinating them. They need that. They need to be able to do that. It doesn’t feel real to me otherwise. It doesn’t feel special, you know? Why are they so drawn to each other if not for precisely that? Their ability to be every part of themselves around each other - the hopeful parts, the selfish parts, the angry parts, the vulnerable parts - is what makes them tick the most, so I’m excited I’ve gotten to the point in their development where they can do that. There’s a scene pretty early in chapter 18 where they have another one of those moments, where Bonnie lets Damon get this sort of ugly/twisted glimpse at her that she’s hiding from everyone else, and she does it with this casualness that I really enjoyed writing. She’s not afraid of judgement. She’s not afraid of what he’s going to think. She knows he gets it, and he does, and it’s simple but I think it means so much more than grand gestures or big sex scenes do for them (but those are fun too lol).

Aw Damon wanting to know more about Bonnie. We see a lot of Bonnie’s curiosity about Mr. Enigma, but he’s embarking on this conversation without really knowing where it’d go or what he wants from it.

That’s a big shift that’s carrying into 18 - Damon’s officially starting to get hooked. It’s been so fun writing him in this shifting context of developing confusing feelings because he’s kind of a disaster about it - especially because Bonnie’s distracted by all the Steroline drama so she’s not even full cognizant of it.

Wow, why am I just noticing this: “He thought about the fire escape, about the things she’d claimed to forgive herself for, and dwelled in the awareness that they’d all been just as performative as his” !!!! excuse me! NOT OKAY. I guess they haven’t had the chance to talk it out like Steroline did, and maybe that’s part of the reason it was more difficult to jump onto the forgiveness train right away.

Yeah, they still have a long way to go. Honestly, I don’t even know if forgiveness really fits what they need. Bamon strikes me more as just needing to accept themselves, and I think being able to accept each other so casually and completely will play a big role in that.

“He wasn’t sure when she’d started taking up actual real estate in his thoughts, but it was kind of a disorienting realization.” !!!

“He used to let himself feel every last lick of it [his anger], blistering and white-hot… it’d bite and fester at the inside of his skin till it wore itself out slowly bled out of his pores” that’s good stuff there, dude, great description.

“That was all before he’d met Katherine, though. Before she’d shown him how to turn it all of instead.” Nice nod to that dumpster fire of canon. Datherine was such an interesting thing that could have been cool. The debauchery, honestly, instead of Damon desiring to be ‘good’ or some shit.

I honestly don’t even remember their canon dynamic and I think it’s probably better that way.

“She’d moved on from the question. He’d had an out. But for some reason, he had this weird, anxious feeling, like an opportunity was flashing past him and he didn’t want to just let it. So he kept going.” We stan character development and growth. You go, baby!

I wonder what it was like for Damon, to re-testify. Was he all shelled-up, the Damon who jokes his way through, who doesn’t give a single fuck about anything, or was he Lily’s scared son, traumatized and hurt, unable to make eye-contact or even lift his head during his testimony?

I think he was forcibly numb to the whole thing until he saw her. Probably being sarcastic under oath, acting like this was a waste of his time, but distinctly edgier than usual. I don’t think he was planning on seeing her and I don’t think he was even supposed to, given the whole witness protection thing, but knowing Lily, she probably dreamed up a way to make sure she was being transported at the exact moment she knew he’d be there, and seeing her and how entirely unchanged, unrepentant, undulled she was after seventeen years, daring to look at him like a project she was coolly proud of, just flipped him out a little.

“She looked protective./ He wasn’t sure anyone had ever looked protective of him before.” AHHHHHHH.

Once you have a Gryffinpuff in your corner there’s no shaking them.

Damon’s “Here” paralleling to Caroline’s “Here”. Two sides of the same coin, though. Caroline’s “here” was liberating and existing meant so much for her, but Damon’s “here” is just existing, not feeling or holding on to anything.

Okay, I will admit this one I did on purpose.

“Kai could probably kill them both if we asked.” Dark!Bonnie, yas queen, slay!

“They didn’t just ‘happen’ / “I did them. I actively ruined those people’s lives.” I know it seems like I’m grasping here, but this just really seems to echo Caroline’s speech to Stefan, that Elena made choices. Bonnie made choices too. Does this mean Elena is just as redeemable as Bonnie is? Stay tuned to probably never find out.

Elena Redemption Arc 2029

Damon: “In fact, it’s [accepting the ‘bad’ parts of her] not going to change you at all—they’re already part of you, they’ve always been part of you. I’m not saying they’re shiny or pretty but honestly, fuck shiny and pretty.” Stefan’s rejection of Elena’s ‘darkness’, Damon’s acceptance of Bonnie’s ‘non-shiny, non-pretty’ elements. I’m just saying dude, conscious or subconscious—your Inner Writer is doing amazing, sweetie, please keep it up forever, thanks.

“Goodness wasn’t default coded into you but having some perfect life that never tempted you to be anything else.” / “To me, that’s a hell of a lot prettier and shinier than someone who never had ugly as an option.” *sings quietly* Tell me how I’m supposed to breathe with no air?

lmfaoooo why do your expressions always murder me

‘I’m too tired to be funny’ fuck you this entire review is either poignant af or hilarious I was ill-prepared I was MISLED

“Your desperation to paint me out as some kind of reluctant hero is your real flaw—in fact, that should be the part of yourself you’re ashamed of.” OKAY THEN STOP BEING ONE

He’s so dumb. And we haven’t even gone into the Tyler arc.

Baroline quoting Defan to throw their own words back at them like ninja stars, pinning them to their words’ truths.

We love a good Pin The Truth Bomb on the Idiot game.

“I’m just saying there’s a chance you aren’t a complete supervillain.” / “I’d be a great supervillain.”

(I just had an overwhelming sense of maybe, someone in this very library, could be a SMA fan also. How wild would that be???)

I wrote this HP fanfic a long time ago that got weirdly popular and someone once left a review saying they saw someone else reading the new update at the airport and they ended up talking about it together for a little while and it was the greatest moment of my entire life

“He wasn’t sure what made him do it. Wasn’t sure if it was a pride thing, a contrarian thing, or a product of whatever weird mindfuck of a thing had been brewing between them over the course of the night, but before he even knew what was happening, he slid his hands up her face and caught her mouth in a swift, deliberate counterargument.” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Damon’s analysis of Bonnie: more exclamation marks

“And that even without the varnish, even with all bitterness and fear and anxiety bursting through his cracks like light, he was worth seeing.” Actual tears in my actual eyes. I am not a crier, Gabi, what have you done

He’s a love-starved stray, LOVE HIM. PET HIM.

Bonnie being all weirded out by the intimacy of the kiss, Damon apologizing about it, “He felt a flicker of resentment over the charm of her awkwardness.”

“If he didn’t know any better, he’d think it was the beginnings of another panic attack.” It’s the knife! (you know the Vine where the kid is running alongside a pool, and the woman behind the camera says, “what’cha got there?” and the kid is like “a knife!” and she’s like “no!” that’s this.)

I’M DEAD.

INEVITABLE. BOOM.

LOOK AT ALL THOSE CHICKENS

Steroline and the Case of the Heart-Eyes

“Laughing on that fire escape was the happiest he thought he’d ever seen her.”

Stefan being unable to deal with Caroline’s weirdo silence. Being nervous and worried about it, being super boyfriendy without actually noticing it. Him finally, full out, asking her what’s her deal.

“I’m out of reasons.” It’s so simple, yet so awwwww inducing.

Stefan going into straight up panic mode is so hilarious to me, even though it’s supposed to be more on the serious side lol. Like, I can just imagine Paul Wesley’s scrunched face, pushing away, avoiding any sort of physical interaction—and I’m cackling.

oh my God now I’m cackling

why is he like that

lmao I just see eyebrows I can’t

“I’m not that guy.” / “I’m the guy who can barely breathe right now because of the smell of your shampoo / who literally can’t open his eyes because if I look at you right now, I’m going to kiss you / who’s a few involuntary stares away from having the exact pattern of your freckles memorized—in fact, I honestly might already. Six on the right, six of the left, rebel freckle.” My heart. Gabi, stoppppp! I didn’t even ship this ship before SMA!

He writes his Boy Scout-ass self blame him.

“I’m pretty sure what makes me happy is you.” I cry so many tears. “I think I might finally be at the point where I’m more scared of missing out on that than I am of what letting it in might do.”

“His heart began humming in his throat at the way she was looking at him.”

“The hope in her eyes grabbed his stupid heart but its stupid heart throat and why the hell did he even pretend he had any actual choice in any of this?” There you go, buddy, finally getting with the program. A parallel to Bamon, and Damon’s wtf is happening to me caring about this cupcake of a person?

“No banning of the full spectrum of human emotion.” / “Do your worst, Disney prince.” / “Don’t know if you can handle that.”

Another artful sex scene. I know they’re not your Fav to write, but you do a real good job. Especially for these two and this moment of it being Real.

Bless, I just never know how they’re going to come across. So easy for them to feel cheesy. Glad this one didn’t tip too far into that territory.

Caroline’s “No” and Stefan’s “a soundless projection of determination so palpable it bent the air into a word.”

“Her eyes were mosaics, art made out of jagged pieces – chipped trust and cracked pride glued together into something flawed and lovely.” Stefan has ruined every romantic thing for me. Thanks, bud.

He sucks.

Caroline’s ‘shift’ (which I am now just realizing she refers to as ‘a lock snapping undone’; giiiiiiiirl) and Stefan’s “and he felt the knife go straight through his gut.”

I can’t read that metaphor now without thinking about her legit stabbing him like a black widow and just completely 180ing this into a slasher fic.

Bonnie and the Contract

Short scene, yes. Bonnie’s absentmindedness, not just because of Damon, but because she doesn’t have eyes for this lol. It’s so casual how you described it too, “just some clothes, abandoned mugs, scatter of papers”, the usual, ya know, nothing to see here lol. Damon’s attempt to keep her from looking at the contract. Like, he was all mischief and trickery a few days ago, waiting for this very moment, and now, he’s all ‘oh uh you may wanna….’ tongue-tied. Short scene, yes. Great cliff-hanger, absolutely. Awesome way to close off what felt like whole movie worth of content? A million percent yes, sign me up for more!

Writing it def felt like a whole movie’s worth of content lmao so getting to that short, final, zippy cliffhanger scene was glorious. Felt like delivering a placenta. Like I’d already birthed the thankless succubus of a baby and all I needed now was the placenta I barely had to push to get out, you know? This metaphor got lowkey gross but fun fact one of the women whose placenta I delivered in OB wanted to keep it so her and her husband could eat it and I was like coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool.

Okay, so this is a monster of a review for a masterpiece of a chapter (100+ pages, right?). Coupling happy and silly scenes with these intense confessions was amazing, and your fear of the emotional scenes not clicking is unwarranted! You’re truly a phenomenal writer, and I know I tell you all the time, but you need to hear it always and forever! I was recently telling my sister writing is my actual passion, and by the way in which you write, it seems like it’s, at least, one of your passions too. Like yeah, medicine is gonna be great, you’re gonna be awesome, and maybe I too will be successful as a therapist, but your passion and talent shines through your writing. YOU! ARE! GREAT! TRULY!

I will not apologize for such a long review, like I always do (13 pages babyyy), but I will apologize for basically rewriting the chapter in this review. I tried my best to simplify and summarize, but bro, so! many! good morsels of gorgeous similes and metaphors and descriptions and dialogue, and did I mention I am in love with your characters? your writing? your goddamn brain? Lol.

(Okay, I think I’m done. This took me almost three weeks to write.)

I truly hope you’re doing well, and if you’re writing, YAS, but if you’re not, you know what? You do you, girl, slay in whatever you’re doing. I am your support! I am your cheerleader! I’m here to bolster any sort of feeling you need! Love ya, toodles ;)

(If you’re new here and you got to the end of this review, hey I’m Cassandra, and you’ve made the best decision to read this fic. Gabi, look away, you’re not supposed to see my gushing about your story yet again. You, Reader, good on ya!)

Girl, I don’t even know what to say at this point. Your reviews are always just so lovely, so funny, so thoughtful, so insightful, so goddamn smart - I’m honored to have you as a reader, dude. Truly. Knowing you’re going to be reading challenges me to write better (and that’s actually true of a lot of you, if you’re reading this!). I adore having your therapist brain reading this, too, because it’s such a character-driven story and I’m writing about a lot of things I’ve never actually been through but have done my best to inhabit, and having your perspective is so wonderful. You find the motivations and you see the dimensionality and half the time your reviews actually give me ideas because you see things I don’t. So basically, all of this to say thank you. I adore you. You’re wonderful. And the one good thing about having taken so friggin’ long to post this response that I AM ACTUALLY WRITING lmao, and despite your busy life of saving people’s sanity and BEING FRIGGIN’ MARRIED, I hope you are, too! Love ya, babe. This was so kind. You’re a universe.

#reply #review #six mornings after #17 #can I just call this a drabble #we're gonna do it #drabble #submission

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novamm66 · 5 years

Text

Red Sky in the Morning - Chapter 13 - On Your Beam Ends

See notes at end of Chapter.

'on your beam ends' means hard up; in rough shape; in a bad situation.

---

I’m dead. I must be dead.

Kiaya was face down on the cold stone, her right arm pinned beneath her at a very unhealthy angle. Her head felt too large and the back of her eyelids swam with coloured dots as she tried to collect her thoughts. The last thing she could remember was slamming into the broken wood covering the dark hole in the ground she had run towards. Her mind was muddled and she wasn’t thinking clearly when she finally decided to roll over.

As she moved, she felt the bones in her arm grate against each other sharply. Pain flared in her chest, and her head hurt so much she could hear a loud ringing. A small scream tore from her lips as she settled onto her back.

Dead is good.

—-

“Kiaya, it’s time to get up.”

“Mmm. Five more minutes Gram…”

Kiaya woke up abruptly to the feeling of water hitting her face, memories still vivid from her dreams. She groaned. “Shite, Grams. You have been dead for thirty years and you’re still waking me up.” Her voice was weak and raspy, and suddenly she felt parched. She lapped at the water, opening her mouth wide to catch as many drops as she could.

Suddenly, Kiaya realized she could see. The snow-filled opening above her was glowing with a blue light, filling the cave she was in with a deep twilight. She had to have been unconscious for a while; the sun must be up, its light barely making it through the snow-choked hole.

The cave was half man-made and half natural, and Kiaya could see a black opening in the wall to her right. Other than that and the hole in the ceiling, there was no way out. Moving her head hadn’t hurt too much, so she sat up, or tried to at least. Dizziness made her vision swim, and her right arm was on fire. The sleeve of her leather armour was extremely tight and she couldn’t feel or move her fingers. Her chest and side hurt, but breathing were easier, and her left arm and both legs were sore but functional. Kiaya spared a moment to thank her lucky stars her knees had survived. Gingerly, Kiaya probed the right side of her face and head, feeling the lump there, and the puffiness of her temple and brow. She shuddered at the stickiness in her hair and pulled her hand away.

“Well, this is fantastic.” Her voice echoed around her. “Give me one good reason not to lay down and go to sleep?” Her mind flooded with images of Cullen. Cullen trying to speak to her and fumbling adorably. Cullen’s eyes crinkling when he smiled. Cullen half-naked while changing out of wet clothes.

“That’s cheating.”

She continued to think of him as she mechanically started doing what she had to in order to stand up. Casting magic with a head injury was dangerous, but it had to be done if she was going to survive. She managed to manoeuvre her arm inside her duster, doing up the buttons to trap it across her chest. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best she could do, and it was useless anyway. The healing spell had fused the bones enough to stop them from moving. It felt like ages before Kiaya managed to slide and crawl her to the nearest wall and haul herself to her feet.

Her head throbbed as the world pitched and rolled around her. “Shite, this is worse than on deck in a squall, or while drunk. Or both.” She started humming a sea shanty as she stumbled forward, aiming for the opening in the wall that she hoped would lead to a way out, trying to move with the heaving of the ground.

—-

The first morning after the attack was overcast and rainy. Cullen and every able-bodied person who could be spared had returned to Haven, with the goal of recovering enough supplies for the survivors. Most of the town was buried under snow and debris, and it had taken hours to locate and dig out the Inquisition stores. Cullen stood on a rise of snow, his head almost on a level with the eaves of the chantry roof, surveying the damage before him. His eyes were continually drawn to the last place he had seen Kiaya. The remains of the trebuchet poked out of the snow, a reminder of how the battle had ended.

“It’s hard, isn’t it, Commander? Making decisions.”

Cullen would have jumped at the sound of Bull’s voice if he wasn’t so bone tired. “What do you mean?” Cullen’s tone sounded sharp to his own ears, but he wasn’t in the mood for cryptic conversation.

Bull’s face was sombre as he looked out across the snow. “Your heart says to start digging her out, but your head knows how dangerous that would be and how vain a hope that is to risk the lives of others.”

Cullen frowned. “It’s not making the decision that is hard. It’s living with it afterwards.”

Bull laughed, but there was no humour in it. “Truer words, Commander.”

—-

Time had little meaning as Kiaya shuffled forward, her feet moving automatically as she dreamed. The mark sparked just enough light to prevent walking into things, but otherwise, she didn’t have to think. She didn’t know where she was or which way to go. It came down to either continuing to move or freezing to death.

Still, it was inexcusable for her to walk so blindly into the middle of a group of wraiths and demons. She was halfway across the cavern before she even noticed. Unarmed, injured and exhausted, Kiaya froze like a trapped fennec. Her mind flooded with panic, and she could only watch as the wraiths gathered their power to attack her. As numerous balls of fade power raced towards her, she threw up her marked hand and screamed.

---

Kiaya sobbed as she gagged and choked on bile and blood. She couldn’t stop shaking. She lay there in the dark until, slowly, she raised her left hand to stare at the mark. It had opened a rift. It had saved her life, but it had fucking opened a rift. Fear of the mark swallowed her, and she cried. Her energy was quickly spent, her tears freezing to her cheeks. It was getting colder.

“Why can’t I just die?”

You have seen the future if you die. You know what happens.

Corypheus was still out there, and Kiaya didn’t doubt his word when he said he intended to tear down the world. That insane monster would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. But there she lay on the ground, with possibly the only key to stopping him buried under the skin of her hand, filled with fear and shame for wanting to give up.

As a fresh wave of tears froze to her face, Kiaya pictured each and every friend she had found with the Inquisition: all the people she had grown to care about, more than she had been willing to admit to herself, and the belief they would be crushed if she didn’t keep going. Kiaya could clearly see Cullen twisted by the red lyrium infecting him, rage and hate on his face.

“No. That won’t happen. I won’t let it. Not ever.” She once again found the strength to climb to her feet and started to move towards what she hoped was the way out. Every step helped to erase the image of the tortured Cullen with a warmer one, with amber eyes as he looked at her.

---

“You have to be fucking kidding me.”

She had found the surface, her self-pity and the inspiration that had followed it driving her forward quickly and, with absolute luck, she had found a way out. But as Kiaya stood at the mouth of the cave, free of the dark underground, she was met by howling winds, and snow was the only thing she could see for some distance. She didn’t feel very lucky.

“‘Maybe you will find a way,’ he says. ‘Come back,’ he says,” Kiaya was feeling manic and very sleepy, and that scared her. “Well? How many fucking ways do I have to find? Haven’t I done enough? What the fuck do you want from me?!”

She began stomping and kicking her feet, just like the tantrums she threw as a child until the pins and needles signalled the return of feeling in her toes. It also helped release frustration. “I hate the fucking cold and snow. I take back every nice thing I said about it.” Kiaya inhaled as deeply as the pain in her ribs and arm would allow before screaming her frustration into the wind. She cast a spell to warm herself, the magic feeling sluggish, and it took more effort then it should. She sighed and stepped out into the snow.

---

It had stormed all night and most of the next day, petering out just before nightfall. It may be spring in the rest of the world, but in the Frostback mountains, winter ruled. They had been lucky and managed to recover enough supplies to protect the survivors. Every tent they had found that could give shelter against the storm was a blessing.

But the waiting had been driving Cullen to distraction. He needed to be doing something. He wanted to search for Kiaya, however vain the hope of finding her might be. In all likelihood, she was buried under the snow back in Haven. But Cullen couldn’t let go of the feeling that that wasn’t true.

He, Cassandra, and a couple of scouts had set out the moment visibility was clear enough. The storm had left behind knee-deep snow, with drifts twice that high, and the pace forward was painfully slow. Neither he nor Cassandra had spoken of why they were searching; Cullen’s hope that they could find Kiaya felt desperate, and it was something he couldn’t voice yet. From the look in Cass’s eyes, Cullen guessed that she felt something similar.

It was almost full dark when they reached the end of the valley the Inquisition had taken shelter in and Cassandra called a halt.

“Commander, we should turn back. It's getting too dark to properly search.”

Cullen glowered at the darkness in front of him. He could feel the frustrated scowl on his face. “Not yet.”

“We are no good to anyone if we walk off a cliff in the dark.” Cullen could hear the matching frustration in Cass’s voice, and he fleetingly hoped that it was more at the situation then at him.

Cullen forced himself to be calm. His friend didn’t deserve grief from him as well. “Very well. We will turn back.”

The Seekers face was grim as she nodded and began to trudge back down the path, the scouts already moving ahead. Cullen couldn’t turn away from the darkness beyond the stone cliffs. He had agreed that it was sensible to return to camp, but his heart and feet were reluctant to obey. He sighed and had started to turn when movement in the darkness caught his eye. He froze, emotions racing through him as he watched Kiaya stumble into view.

“Kiaya,” he gasped not loud enough for anyone to hear.

He started to run. “There! It’s her!”

“Thank the Maker.” Behind him, he heard Cassandra’s shout, but his eyes stayed glued on the woman in front of him as Kiaya collapsed into the snow.

—-

Kiaya’s mind had left reality far behind. She had lost feeling in her legs long ago. The pain in her side and head were the only ‘warmth’ she felt. Her body simply continued moving forward out of habit and sheer stubbornness.

Her mind was busy in a much warmer and happier place. Daydreams and fantasies had taken over keeping her warm. Her ability to cast had ended some time ago, the fade slipping away from her like smoke or freezing solid like a stone when she reached for it. So she was drowning in whisky eyes and the golden heat of her thoughts.

Her cocoon of dreams was shattered when a wolf howled close by, a flood of fear freezing her in her tracks. At some point the storm had ended, but it had left behind snow deep enough to stop her from falling over. The night was clear, and she could see stars overhead, the moons giving enough light for her eyes to make out shapes and shadows in the dark. Her eyes were not focusing properly, though, and her head felt strange: dreamlike but not, and the pull of the Fade was getting stronger. She became aware of the rest of her body when she started to shiver violently. I have to move again.

She forced her shaky legs to lift, but they felt leaden as she tried to force them through the snow. As she crested the ridge, her attention was caught by lights on the horizon, and her steps faltered as she tried to focus her eyes.

The effort made her head pound, and blackness started to creep into her vision before she recognized the campfires in the distance. She sobbed, equal parts relief and desperation. It was still so far away.

Movement in the moonlight, much closer, caught her attention, and Kiaya was no longer sure if she was actually awake or if she was still dreaming. Cullen was there, just steps away. As he started to run toward her, calling her name, the blackness rushed in and she fell into the snow.

—-

Cullen dropped to his knees in the snow next to her. Maker, where is her arm? His hands froze as he reached for her, suddenly unsure if he wanted to know.

Cassandra landed on Kiaya’s other side, and having no such hesitation, rolled the prone woman over.

“Thank the Maker.” Cassandra echoed the words in Cullen’s head as they realized they could see Kiaya’s arm pinned across her front under her coat.

“Run back to camp. Tell them we found her and to ready the healers. Go! Now!” As Cassandra barked at the scouts and they took off, Cullen pulled his gloves from his hands to brush the snow from Kiaya’s face. Her skin was frozen, burning his fingers.

“Is she dead?” Now that it was just the two of them, Cass’s fear was plain in her voice and on her face.

“No,” Cullen could feel her breath on his fingers only slightly warmer than the air around them. “But she feels like ice.” Cullen tenderly continued removing snow, but his stomach dropped when he uncovered the bruising on her face and dried blood in her hair. His questing fingers found the welt and the open wound on her head.

“Her arm’s broken, and maybe some ribs too.” Cassandra’s searching hands causing a moan to escape from Kiaya’s lips and Cullen’s heart clenched. “And she is too cold. We need to get her back fast.”

He fitted one of his gloves over Kiaya’s exposed hand before picking her up as gently as he could. Even so, it was impossible not to jostle her a little, and every whimper was a knife in Cullen’s chest.

Cassandra led the way, but Cullen was concentrating on his feet, trying to gauge the footing, so it was a shock when Kiaya moved in his arms, nuzzling her face into his neck and shoulder. Her skin burned where it touched him, but that didn’t stop him from wrapping his arms around her more firmly, tilting his head to rest on hers and trying to give her as much heat as he could.

“Kiaya?” His voice was pitched low. “Can you hear me?” He felt air blow against his skin, but if she had spoken it was too low for Cullen’s ears to catch. He felt her press her cold lips against his racing pulse, and he could feel the vibration of words he couldn’t hear.

Suddenly, her body went limp, and his heart froze in his chest.

“Kiaya!?” Cullen shifted his shoulder to try and look at her face. Her face was slack, the whites of her eyes were visible under half-closed lids.

He tightened his arms around her and tucked her head back under his chin. He didn’t stop to check her breathing before breaking into a run.

---

I got discouraged with the lack of response on my chapters but I have come to the realization that numbers don’t matter. Just having it out there makes me feel proud and that is what is important. So I am getting caught up. If my story has caught your interest, and you can’t wait for my posts (I don’t want to bombard folks with them.) you can find the up to date chapters on my AO3 page.

I would love any comments, like and reblogs and talking dragon age.

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fiftyshadesofwondergirl · 5 years

Text

To All The Boys I’ve Ever Loved

Inspired by the book of course and a little bit of tumblr (from a ladybug fic😅)But, over all it is my version of Cassie’s life. Not all things may be accurate but it gives it something a little more. I tried my best to give off what Cassie would have said in the letters. Hope you all like it .

-thatgirlwiththelasso

Cassie Age: 13

Dear Timothy Jackson Drake,

I don’t know what it is about you. Maybe it was your dorky smile , or the way you light up when it comes to math. Something about you just makes me get butterflies in my stomach . For you are the one who has caught my eye. At the age of 13, none the less. I love the way you try to attempt to teach me math even if I don’t get it at all. How passionate you are about the subject . Yet, all I do is watch you try and try but I can never truly focus . Those eyes of yours with those glasses. Makes a blonde swoon you know? I just can’t help it . You are just so adorable. There are so many more reason as to why I like you. A whole list, from your black hair to the abs beneath your shirt to the intelligence you have, I could go on. But, none the less, I like you for who you are. No , looks isn’t everything . But, it’s your kind personality and caring soul that captured my heart.

Sincerely ,

Cassandra E. Sandsmark

Cassie Age: 14 yr

Dear Jaime Reyes,

I swear on Hera, you are some fine tamale . Is that how you say it? I don’t even know. You make me melt every time you say the simplest words in Spanish. Not that I understand it , you could be saying hi or how are you and I will still melt at the sound of your accent. I try my best to talk to you . Even went as far to ask you to tutor me in Spanish. I’m happy to say I’m actually passing because of you. I have a B+ , aiming for an A next time but baby steps. You are beyond sweet and so generous , helping me in any shape possible. And constantly checking up on me or making sure to never have me sad . Bring me ice cream because some kids at school have been making fun of me for wearing baggy clothes, my big nerdy glasses and that black wig I wear. I know you’ve said not to wear it because you say I’m beautiful the way I am . But, I feel so insecure about my blonde short hair. I look like a guy as is . What would make the difference? But, thank you for making me feel better. But, the real question is what isn’t there to like about you? You are tall, sweet, kind , good at Spanish, and can make some mean tamales . I can’t help but like you more by the day.

Sincerely ,

Cass

Cassie Age: 16 yr

Dear Grayson,

Are all the bat boys hot? Not including Damien of course. But, damn you would of thought all of you are related because damn those fine genes of yours. I know I shouldn’t like you because your Bab’s man. But, you’re so hot. So alluring . Think it’s becoming a trait in bat family . Everyone is just attractive . I swear on it. Why do I like you? Well, there are so many reasons to like you. From your quirkiness to your wise words. I may never express how I feel for you nor ever send this to you. Maybe, if we had been closer in age or just if you weren’t with Bab’s . Maybe then I’d try and shoot my shot. But, for now I shall just admire a far and watch you lift weights . And those delicious abs of yours.

Yours Truly,

Cassie

Cassie Age: 17

Dear Bart Allen,

Honestly, I don’t know why I like you. Not that you will ever see this. Maybe it’s the way you act . So full of life. Such a joyful guy. Sometimes I would use the excuse of saying something was in your hair, to only feel how soft it is. I swear every guy is fit on this team. Including you, maybe I just have a thing for abs. Yeah, that’s probably it. But, your cute and those freckles of yours. They drive me insane. Though, I must say your eating habits kind of gross me out. That doesn’t make me like you any less. Never change. You have always been a good friend to me . I do hope that it always remains this way. Maybe, I’ll give it to you one day, after I get over you though. I don’t think I’d ever have the guts to ever tell you . To ever confess my feelings for you .

Sincerely ,

Cassie.

Cassie Age: 18

Dear Conner Kent,

I remember when we first met . How I was so nervous to be around you. And you know me I’m nervous for no one . But, for you it’s different . For you everything seems to have changed. You were the first boy to give me my first kiss. It’s crazy how things had grown between us. How we grew so close yet so far. You were my first love. I will never forget the times we had shared. The kisses we shared between missions and during our romantic dates . But, most importantly , I’ll never forget you. I’ll never forget our first time . Our first date. You mean so much to me. I’m sad it didn’t work out. But, maybe it was for the best? Maybe it was not our time to be together. Maybe in the future we will cross each other’s paths and be together once again. But, I thank you for showing me what true love was . Showing me how I should be treated. Most of all, thank you for loving me. Any girl would be lucky to be loved by you, I sure was. I love you, Conner. Forever and always, no matter what. I’ll always be there for you. And don’t forget it.

Forever and Always,

Cassie.

[I posted this on my Instagram so that’s why there is a water mark . It’s mine. Give it a follow if you want 🤷🏻‍♀️]

#sweet wonderbird #wonderbird #tim x cassie

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fivesaucekisses · 6 years

Text

Chapter Fifty-One

Ashton's P.O.V.

"So, I figured we could just have a chill night, maybe get some pizza and I can make the couch in your living room a little bit more like a bed," I suggest, looking over to the passenger seat at Lauren who's currently staring out the window.

"Thanks," she mutters, clearly not up for talking.

I sigh, trying my best not to take it personally, knowing full well she's too far into her own thoughts to even communicate. The rest of the ride is quiet on both of our ends, the music fills in the gap as we drive in a comfortable silence. I pull into the space in front of her house and put the car in park before jogging to the other side, ready and willing to help her if she needs it.

"Do you need me to-"

"No," she cuts me off, holding her hand up at me a determined look on her face as she shimmies out of her seat, crutches tucked strategically under her arms.

When her foot touches the ground, I instantly reach for her, ready to steady her as best I can. "Ashton, I'm okay," she assures me as she begins to make her way towards her stairs. She stares angrily up them as she sighs, looking back at me with a defeated look on her face.

"It's okay, Lo just let me at least help you into the house," I say tentatively. The last thing I wanted to do was anger her. She nods some, finally giving in, handing me her crutches that I prop on the hand rail before I scoop her up in my arms. A slight hiss escapes her lips before she wraps her arms around my neck and relaxes some.

The second we enter the house, Lauren still in my arms we're bombarded by commotion causing the both of us to tense up in surprise. "What are you guys doing here?" I ask in annoyance as I see all our friends standing in the middle of her living room.

"I wanted to make sure my best friend was going to be comfortable when she came home," Cassie says, clearly picking up on my attitude.

Lauren shifts in my arms, grumbling inaudibly as her arms tighten around me. I try desperately to not focus too much on how close we currently are as I ignore Cassie and walk over to the couch that has already been made into a bed and place Lauren gently down on it.

"I thought you said they were all busy?" Lauren asks, looking up at me from her spot.

"They were," I grumble, shooting Calum a look from across the room. He gives me a shrug as he watches Cassie rush around.

"Don't get testy Ash," Cassie scolds, fluffing a pillow for Lauren before shoving it behind her.

"How's the leg feeling?" Ben asks, gesturing towards Lauren's now wrapped knee.

"How do you think it's feeling Ben?" She snaps back, before slapping Cassie's hands away from her. "Stop touching me."

I can see Cassie grow stiff at Lauren's words a little taken back by her attitude. The rest of the group stand quietly for a few minutes before Luke shuffles forward. "Hey, Lo I just got you some flowers, I put them in a vase on your kitchen counter, I'm going to let you get your rest," he states, looking over at Michael who nods in unison.

"We'll come visit later in the week," Michael states, patting her head gently before moving towards the door. At least they got the hint.

"I have someone coming in to make you some dinner and I can stay with you and have a girls day every day."

"No." Lauren grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest.

"N-no?" Cassie questions, clearly not ready for her response.

"Cass, we should probably just let her rest," Calum says quietly, placing a hand on the small of her back.

"And leave her with Ashton?" she asks, looking over at me with narrow eyes.

"What's wrong with me staying?"

"C'mon guys let's not do this right now," Ben shakes his head disapprovingly from the doorframe, which doesn't seem to stop Cassie at all.

Cassie scoffs and looks between Lauren and I a few times. "Nothing, nothings wrong with that at all. I just think it should be up to Loz."

The room falls silent as we all look over at Lauren who's still sporting a serious grimace. "I don't want to be near anyone right now."

"Well that's not an option," Cassie huffs.

"Ashton," Lauren looks up at me briefly to me "Please stay."

"Are you kidding me?" Cassie says exasperatedly. "I just spent the last five hours working to make sure that you were comfortable when you got home after having one of the worst days of your life, while pregnant I may add. It's not easy to get a chef so last minute, or to climb all these stairs in this house to haul all your items down here to make you feel comfortable, and now you're kicking me out for him?" She leans in to say the last part as if I can't hear her.

"Woah," I murmur, crossing my arms over my chest as Cassie shoots me an apologetic look.

"Sorry," she mumbles, turning back to Lauren.

"I just want to sit in my house, in my sweatpants, eat an entire carton of ice cream and cry," Lauren says, looking as if she's moments from breaking. "I could never dance again after today and you're upset that I'm kicking you out over the one person I know that will fully let me cry it out without forcing me to talk about it," she mumbles the last part out as the tears begin to fall. "And now you're trying to make me feel bad for something I never asked you to do."

"That's not true-" Cassie starts before Lauren holds up her hand.

"Cass," Calum says, stepping in before Cassie continues her argument, placing his hands on the sides of her face to grab her full attention. "Let's go home and let Lauren have her space," he mumbles quietly as she sighs defeated.

"Fine," she says before pointing at me. "But I swear Ashton if she says jump you say how high, you got it?"

I chuckle some at her comment and nod. "As if I wouldn't have already done that for her."

"I'll check in with you later, yeah?" Calum asks me before glancing down at Lauren. "Chin up sunshine," he smiles sweetly and places his hand on her cheek, wiping a few fallen tears away. She give him a slight smile and nod.

"I still think this is ridiculous. Of all the people to stay," Cassie huffs before looking at me. "No offense."

"Right," I say with a smirk as I walk the two of them to the door.

Ben made his way from the doorframe over to Lauren, kneeling in front of her so they're at eye level. "Cry this out and come back stronger right?" he whispers to her as I watch from the front door.

She shrugs some, not really giving him a response, causing him to sigh a little disappointed. "We'll get there." And with that, he stands, leaning down to peck her cheek before making his way over to me at the door.

"Make sure she's okay," he says seriously.

"I'm not going to leave her side, and I'll text you if I need anything," I assure him, giving him a pat on the back as he makes his way out the door finally leaving me alone with Lauren.

"So," I mumble, trying desperately to brighten the now very bleak mood. "Pizza first or ice cream?"

Lauren's P.O.V.

"Alright Lo, it's time to get dressed," Ashton says, pulling me out of my daze. It had been a week and a half since my surgery and it was safe to say that I was still coping with my current situation. Luckily for me, I had Ashton to keep me from going completely insane.

"Why? It's not like I'm going anywhere."

"Actually, you are," he says, grinning as he hands me one of his sweatshirts he must have found in my closet.

I bashfully take it out of his hand and hold it in my lap. "Where?"

"I need to watch my siblings for a day and you need a new scenery," he pauses before adding. "Unless you want to stay on this couch for another day."

"How are you going to get me on the subway?" I question, gesturing down to my brace covered leg.

"Well Ms. Chandler, you happen to have access to drivers and I happen to have called one. No more excuses, get dressed and I'll go get your pain meds and a book?" he questions shooting me a look. "Do you want a book? I could also get you your lap top?"

I giggle at him as he begins pacing, ready to grab whatever I could request. "I'm fine Ash, really, thank you."

"You're sure? I don't really have anything to do at my house, other than Netflix and video games," he says.

"And your drums," I quip, giving him a small smile causing a smile to break out on his own face.

"Alright crutchy, don't get any plans," he laughs, picking up the book I had started and left on the kitchen table earlier in the day. I groan at his new nickname for me, and fall back onto the couch. "Don't get comfy, this car is minutes away."

Propping myself up onto my elbows, I look over in his direction. "What would have happened if I had refused?"

"Honestly? I'd probably just carry you," he shrugs with a wink before holding his hand out to me, guiding me up from the spot on the couch.

Once I'm up and fully supported by my crutches, he continues to collect some items into his backpack. My cellphone charger, a hair tie of mine, my headphones. I watch him walk around my living room as he seemingly knows where everything I could possibly need while away would be. A small smile falls onto my lips as a feel a familiar warmth come over me. It's safe to say having Ashton practically stay with me for the past week and a half has been more than welcome. His positive aura and calming abilities have made the shittiest situation seem doable and I don't think I could ever thank him enough.

"You ready?" he asks, zipping up his backpack and putting it over his shoulders as he begins to walk back in my direct. "What's got you so happy today? I missed that smile," he quips, mirroring my grin in return.

"I'm just excited to get out of the house," I say, playing off the fact that I am high key crushing on the cutest ex I've ever had who happens to be taking care of me in probably one of the darkest moments of my life. But sure, I'm just excited to get out of the house.

The ride to Ashton's house is a comfortable silence as I take in the fresh air. Once the car pulls into Ashton's very familiar home I feel myself get slightly nervous. The past two times I've been to his house have ended in me leaving in tears. Swallowing hard, I try to bury my thoughts and open my door. Ashton's quick to make it to me, ready to help ease me out of the car and up his front stairs. The second the door swings open we're bombarded by commotion. Ann is practically running in every direction in an attempt to leave on time and only stops when she sees the two of us.

"Oh my God, Lauren sweetie," she coos, as she rushes over to me, wrapping me in a tight hug. "How are you feeling? Are you doing any better?"

"I'm okay," I nod, giving her a small smile, something I had gotten very used to over this past week and a half. "I have a follow up in about two weeks to see where we're at but until then it's no weight baring for me," I shrug, looking down at my leg.

"And Ashton, has he been good to you?" she whispers as if he's not standing right beside me.

"Mom-"

I subtly reach over and give his arm a small squeeze as I give Ann a big grin. "Ashton's been great, honestly. I don't know what I would do without him."

"Husband material some would say," she hums, looking back and forth between the two of us and adds in a wink for good measure.

Ashton's cheeks flush ever so slightly as he steps forward and shoos his mother away from us. "Go to work."

"Oh c'mon honey, you know I'm only teasing," she gushes as she gives him a peck on the cheek and makes her way to the door.

"They're in their rooms doing God only knows. Help yourself to whatever you can find and thank you," and just like that, Ann is out the door and the house falls silent.

Ashton turns to face me, running a hand through his hair with a blush still clear on his cheeks. "Sorry about her, you know how she gets."

"Stop it, I love your mom. You are husband material, it's okay to admit," I say, picking up my crutch and poking his leg with it as he rolls his eyes at me.

"Shut up."

"Make me," I say as the room abruptly falls silent. My heart feels like it's just stopped beating. I lock eyes with him and for a second I'm praying he kisses me. Every part of me wanted that, and it terrified me.

He gives me a cheeky grin and walks over to me slowly before squaring up to my crutches and leaning forward so we're face to face. "Are you asking me to-"

"Lauren!" I hear a shout, followed by the sound of feet coming down the stairs. Ashton quickly pulls away, biting his lip in a silent frustration.

"Hey Harry," I smile, as the young boy comes running into the room.

"Are you dating my brother again?" he asks bluntly, giving my torso a hug.

Ashton raises his eyebrows some as the two of them lock eyes. "No, I um, we're just hanging out again," I nod.

"But isn't that dating? Right Ashton? You said when you hang out with a girl a lot you're dating," he says matter of factly.

"Uhm"

"Harry put on super smash bro's, I'll play you," Ashton says, pulling Harry's focus from the topic currently at hand. Harry quickly follows his brothers orders and turns on his Wii as Ashton turns back to me. "I literally don't know what's gotten into my family today," he chuckles some, shaking his head in embarrassment.

"He should be a lawyer, his defense was pretty freaking solid," I giggle, making my way into the living room and onto his couch.

Ashton's quick to follow, plopping down on the couch beside me. He reaches into his bag and pulls out my book, pain meds, and a water bottle. "Do you need a pillow or anything for your leg?"

"No," I say, shaking my head as I watch him play a few rounds with his brother. His concentrated face, and the way he bit his lip when he focused was hard to not look at. I tried to hide my blatant staring at him by holding my book in my hands, but I don't think I even read a word. I was, in all regards still very interested in one man.

"Ash," I whispered. He turned his head slightly, giving me a concerned look. "I need to talk to you."

"Oh," he furrows his eyebrows together some, clearly a little confused. "Okay?"

"Alone," I mumble, glancing down at Harry and then back at him.

"Hey Harry, go bug your sister for a little bit," Ashton suggests as he pauses the game. The second Harry's gone Ashton's focus is on me. "Are you okay?"

My heart begins to race as I think about what I'm about to say. "I don't really know how to say this without sounding really stupid and I don't want this to be weird but we've done this so many times I can't-"

"Lo, breathe," he says, placing a hand on my shoulder. His touch does NOT help.

"Ashton I like like you," I blurt out, the butterflies practically bursting out of my stomach.

"You what?" he chuckles, smiling wide at me.

"I like like you, a lot."

"If it helps, I like like you too," he says, now turning his whole body to face me.

"No," I sigh, looking down at my hands. "We've literally done this so many times, I just- I'm not about to do the same thing all over again."

"Why are you so adamant that this will be just like the last time?"

"Because you literally broke my heart on Valentines day and I never thought I'd be able to get back to this point with you again," I sigh, finally breaking down that one wall that had been holding back all of my feelings. "If we ruin what we have again, I don't think I'd be able to take it. And I know I'm partially to blame for everything, I know. There's not a single ounce of my being that doesn't know I fucked up by paying for your tuition. It was such a bad idea and I regret it."

"I'm so sorry for how I handled that night Lauren, if I could go back and never tell you to leave I would, I swear to God I would," he says shaking his head in shame. "I lost my scholarship because of one stupid D on an exam for statistics. I literally lost my entire funding for my senior year of college because of one bad grade and I was too proud to tell anyone that. To tell you that," he sighs, gesturing to me. "I didn't want people to think I wasn't okay, so I started to pick up more shifts, and then I started to smoke again and things really just started to fall apart from there."

"I wish you had told me then," I murmur as we both fall silent.

"If this has taught me anything, I'm now fully aware of how badly I tend to push people away when I'm hurting and that's not something I want to do anymore. Not with you, not when it comes to you," he pauses for a moment, before glancing over at me. "You've become such a key part of my life this last year and I was an idiot to ever make you feel like you weren't one of my main reasons for getting out of bed every day. Honestly Lo, you're my best friend and I'm with you come hell or high water, from here on out."

I sit up in my seat some and move closer to him, wrapping my arms tightly around his torso in a strange side hug without hurting myself. "You're mine too."

I feel him chuckle slightly, wrapping his arm over my shoulders and placing a gentle kiss on the top of my head. "Is it bad if I say I missed this?" he whispers as I feel my cheeks get warm and pull away some.

When we part I'm face to face with him, hazel eyes in my direct line of sight and I can't seem to look anywhere else. "No." My response is barely audible as we stay frozen in place.

He seems to be torn about what to do next as his eyebrows crease slightly, yet his eyes never leave mine. In fact, they look like they're searching for the answer in my own expression. "Can we try this one more time?" He asks quietly. "I want to, I've wanted to pretty much since the second I watched you walk out my front door and I never want to make that mistake again," he blurts out, before I have a chance to even think of responding.

"Take me on a date when this boot comes off," I grinned at him as I watched his face light up in front of me.

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

Yall this is so long but I couldn't stop myself lol. Hopefully you like this!

- Taylor

#5 seconds of summer #5sos fanfic #5sos fanfiction #ashton irwin #ashton Irwin fanfic #ashton Irwin imagine #ashton Irwin au #luke hemmings fanfic #calum hood fanfic #Michael Clifford fanfic #5sos imagine #5sos au

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theroyalwords · 6 years

Text

Teen Olympians, Ch 31

-Apollo-

He was going to lock her up. That seemed like the only way he could keep Cas safe.

She ran off once again, leaving the stupid school to do some kind of ridiculous magical errand. She kept saying that it was nothing, that she could see when they would attack, but something in his gut told him differently. Cassia was taking risks, risks she shouldn’t have to chance with an immortal by her side. Apollo was good for something after all. He couldn’t fight the other pantheon, but his presence would scare a good number of them off. But he couldn’t do that when the girl who needed protection ran around like a hunter seeking the Tessumian fox.

The bell rang signaling the end of the day. Apollo went straight to Cas’s locker hoping that she made it back in time. The only thing at her locker was a note that had her now familiar writing on it. Apollo moved it from the slats and tore it open.

You need to stop worrying. I’ve snuck around for years now. By the time you will read this, which should be around 3:15, I’ll be back at the apartment. You can yell at me there.

-Cassia

He made the letter vanish between his hands, turning it to a fine dust that scattered in the air. Since his family had split to do whatever they needed to do today, that meant Apollo had the ride home to himself. It was relaxing, letting the windows down and driving as fast as he wanted. No mortal cops would pull him over. While most of their magic had been limited as part of their punishment, he still had power over mortal minds. That and disappearing whenever he wanted to make avoiding mortals easier. Apollo hardly had any quiet time in his existence, so when he got it, he used it. It gave him time to think about Cassia. Part of Apollo kind of admired her tenacity. She stood up to him without any fear, which was rare from a mortal.

Maybe he was approaching it from the wrong way. He didn’t want to yell at her like her parents did. He understood that the path she chose was the best option, but it still left him wary. It only takes a thought, less than a mere second for the future to change.

As soon as his chariot was parked, Apollo vanished and appeared before the door that led to his study. The wards wouldn’t stop him or Artemis from appearing. He gave it a quick series of taps before letting himself in.

Cas was staring at the wall with his arms crossed over her chest. It was covered in notes and pictures, many of them the security measures she had spent the last week researching. She plotted out how to get past all of them. Her planning was as close to flawless that a mortal could come up with something Athena even noted. Apollo had offered some suggestions, which she took in stride. Even Artemis, although begrudgingly, admitted she was good at coming up with a game plan.

“Just so you know, I didn’t even see one Egyptian while I was out today,” Cass explained as she added a note to the board. She held a crystal in her hand, which she carefully set on the shelf below.

“Is that what you had to leave to get?” Apollo asked as he nodded his head towards the crystal.

“Yes. It will help fuel the spell to lift the disorientation enchantment. Getting hit with that would royally suck and most likely be the thing that kills me.”

“You should have told me.”

“Told you what?”

“That you were leaving the school with no protection.”

Cas glanced towards him before rearranging some of the notes. “I did tell you.”

Apollo rolled his eyes. “Yes, you mentioned it in passing and the next thing I know, you’ve vanished from class without a goodbye.”

“I had a window that worked to my advantage. It would have been riskier if I waited.”

“That doesn’t matter, Cassia.”

“It does matter. There were no possibilities as long as I went in that window,” she huffed. “It was the safest option. I’m not a child, Apollo. I know what I’m doing.”

“Wrong. There are always possibilities. You are putting too much stock in your visions lately. The future can change at any moment.” She turned towards him then, her brows raised.

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

Cassia heaved a long sigh. “I do. Believe me, of all the mortals that are involved with immortal shenanigans, I probably know it the best. I’m not going to change my life and stay scared because of small possibilities. That’s what makes life worth it.” She paused for just a moment and looked down at the floor. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Apollo took a step closer to her. There was barely a foot of space between them. Apollo knew that Cassia could and would take care of herself. She was smart, resourceful, and beautifully determined. She looked up at him, her eyes focused on his face. Her expression was neutral, but there was a tension in her eyes that Apollo hadn’t seen before. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “I get that. I want you to take care of yourself. I don’t want you to take unnecessary risks when you have help available.”

“And how am I supposed to do that? Every day is a risk until I get this accomplished.”

“You could take me with you.”

“Why would you do that? I already told you, if the Egyptians find out you are helping me, they will involve your father. I’m not risking--”

Apollo placed his hand against her cheek, stopping her mid-sentence. A blush crept up underneath his hand, making the couple of freckles she had stand out.

“I’ll take that chance. I know how to be covert when I want to as well, Cas.”

“If Zeus finds out-“

“He won’t,” Apollo swore. “Check me if you don’t believe me.”

Cas studied his face for a minutes before her eyes drifted close. Apollo could sense the chaos behind them, the never-ending visions colliding the future with the now. Her eyes squinted just a bit before opening to that violet expanse.

“It’s almost impossible,” she admitted quietly. “It’s a small chance if you go with whatever you are thinking of now.”

“Exactly,” Apollo agreed. “I’m not asking you to stop, Cassia. That would be like telling a volcano not to erupt when it clearly is. But you do have power, far more than you know. That makes you a target. I’d like to see that potential start to grow. But you need help sometimes. I’m asking you to take mine.”

Cas stared at him for a moment, her teeth worrying against her bottom lip. Apollo was almost surprised she wasn’t drawing blood.

“You think I have potential? That sounds an awful lot like you want to keep the insanity inside my head.”

“Do you want your visions completely gone?” Apollo thought he knew the answer, but Cas hesitated. There was something hidden in her expression, anxiety or fear, he wasn’t sure which.

“As much as I hate them, I’ve never been without them. It’s been a part of me for so long, to not have them…”

“It would feel like a part of you was missing.”

Cas nodded her head. “I just wish people would believe me. Is it all or nothing? You remove my curse by taking away my gift?”

Apollo sat down in one of the chairs near his desk. “It’s one option, yes. But it is not the only option. It would be the safest, though.”

“Like cutting off a dead limb,” she mumbled. “I don’t want that.”

“Then, that option is off the table. I’m going to try to get you what you need. Let’s get the Egyptian pantheon off your back, and then we can discuss the possible ways to reverse it. I don’t want to unknowingly make it worse.”

“That would be bad,” Cas admitted with a grin. “I think we make our move in three days when the full moon rises. Can I walk through the plan with you?”

“Let’s hear it,” Apollo stated. He hoped that whatever she came up with wasn’t the most dangerous way, but knowing Cassia Woodard, she would make it as harrowing as possible.

#teen olympians #my writing #ortemis

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darling-cas · 6 years

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Whatever It Takes: Chapter 7

ACOTAR Figure Skating AU

Summary: Nesta firmly believes that if you want something, you have to work your ass off for it. And she wants a National title attached to her name. But when her coach decides that a change in discipline is what Nesta needs, she’s far from impressed. Now, instead of training as a ladies single skater, she has to switch gears and skate as a pairs skater. And her partner? Someone she can’t stand. Non other than cocky, flirtatious, former Men’s skater Cassian. Edited by: @ilikebigbooks-and-icannotlie

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Cassian finished tying up his skates before sitting up straighter. He took a moment to close his eyes, running a hand through his dark shoulder-length hair.

He was early for practice that morning. But he couldn't stay locked up in his apartment any longer or he would have gone insane. Ever since practice a few weeks ago, when Rhys and Feyre tried to help him and Nesta, the oldest Archeron sister had captivated his thoughts more than she normally did. And it was making him restless.

He didn’t know what had happened, what exactly had made Nesta skate off of the ice that day. Feyre wouldn't tell him, nor would she say what was talked about in the dressing room. And if Rhys knew anything, he was keeping a tight lip. All Cassian knew was that Nesta was more quiet than usual. She was still her stubborn hotheaded self. But more.. serene almost. Quieter. More guarded and caged. She only spoke to him when she had to. And even then it was only a word or two. It was as if she didn’t want to get too close to him, which he didn’t think was possible. They were already so distant.

The new version of Nesta - it was driving him insane.

It had never happened to him before. No other girl ever made him feel that way. Whatever it was.

Damn that woman.

Standing up, Cassian took in a deep breath. As if he were trying to clear his mind, to rid himself of all thoughts of Nesta Archeron. He threw his hair back in an elastic before grabbing the water bottle off of the bench next to him and making his way to the door.

The bitter icy air slapped him in the face the moment he stepped out of the heated dressing room. The sound of the zamboni leaving the ice bounced off of the rafters, along with the voices of the single skaters as they started to leave the rink, done with practice for the day.

Cassian walked towards the ice, looking out at the fresh, smooth surface, clean and ready to be marked up once again.

He still had almost an hour until the pairs were supposed to practice, but he couldn't resist the thought of stepping onto the new sparkling ice.

“You’re here early.”

Cassian placed his skate guards on the boards next to him as he turned around.

Mor was standing behind him. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a long braid, skating bag over her shoulder as she took a few steps towards him.

A smile formed on Cassian’s lips. “What can I say, I just can’t stay away from the rink.”

Mor didn’t respond however, just stared at him for a moment. She looked at him with a calculating eye and a raised eyebrow.

“What’s been up with you lately?” She finally asked. “You've been acting weirder than normal.”

Cassian stared back for a moment. Had he really been acting weird? He didn’t think he had been. Nesta was the one acting weird. Cassian was fine.

Unless Nesta was getting to him even more than he’d originally thought.

That damn woman.

And of course Mor would be the one to pick up on it. She’d known him just as long as Rhys had. They had a long - and slightly complicated, mind you - history. She was one of his best friends. So it honestly didn’t surprise him that she was the one to call him out.

Despite all of that though, Cassian found himself shrugging. “Nothing is up with me.”

“I call bullshit,” Mor said. “You’ve been weirder than normal these past few months. But even more so these past few weeks.”

There was a pause as Cassian tried to wrap his head around exactly what Mor was saying. He tried to think of what to say, how to back himself up. To prove how wrong she actually was - even if she was right. But he knew, deep down, it was no good. No one could lie to Mor.

But Cassian didn’t even have a chance to open his mouth. Mor raised an eyebrow at him and spoke before he could.

“It’s Nesta, isn’t it?” She said, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. “You definitely have a thing for her. Anyone can see it.”

Cassian would be lying if he said he wasn’t caught off guard. It was one thing to be feeling things for Nesta, even if he didn’t exactly know what those things were. But it was another to have someone call him out on it for the first time.

But it was in that moment, as Cassian looked into Mor’s deep brown eyes, that everything came rushing forward. All the confused, tangled, messy emotions he felt towards Nesta Archeron all but flooded his mind. He felt like he couldn't breathe.

He ran a hand through his hair, turning to glance at the ice. The words flew past his lips before he even realized what he was saying.

“I can’t stay away.” His voice was soft, raspy. “I can’t stay away and I can’t stop thinking about her and I don’t fucking know why.”

Mor stood next to him, her gaze following his.

A silence stretched on between them until Mor drew out a breath, fogging up the glass before her.

“I have a few ideas why.” She turned her brown gaze towards Cassian, expression unreadable.

“And they are?”

“I think you know already,” she simply said.

He looked back out onto the ice.

He knew Mor wasn’t going to say any more on the subject. Not that he wanted her to anyway. Because he knew - deep down, he knew what she meant.

He knew why he was acting that way - part of him did anyway. But he couldn't admit it to himself. He wouldn't admit it to himself. Because she was Nesta Archeron and he was foolish for feeling anything towards her. She was… She was…

“Babe.”

Cassian glanced over his shoulder as Mor turned around, a grin forming on her lips when her eyes landed on Andromache.

“Hey Cassian.” The dark-haired beauty waved before turning to her girlfriend. “Ready?”

Mor turned, hoisting her skating bag further up her shoulder before giving Cassian one last look, followed by a deep sigh.

“Watch yourself, Cass,” was all she said before she marched towards Andromache, the two leaving the rink hand in hand.

Cassian watched them go before turning back towards the ice, bracing his hands on the boards.

His mind was working a mile a minute. He couldn't focus on a single thought, a single word. Images kept flashing in his mind, mostly images of Nesta. Of that devastatingly beautiful and wicked woman.

He couldn't take it anymore. The thoughts, the images, they were all slowly driving him completely insane.

With a sharp breath, Cassian pushed off the boards, jumped onto the ice, and started to skate.

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

Nesta knew she was staring, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't not watch.

She had seen Cassian skate before. Hell, she had skated with him herself. And they had been to all the same competitions for the most part. But she had never actually watched him skate by himself before. Until that moment. And… holy shit.

He was unyielding. Powerful. Forceful. He skated as if he was born, groomed, and harden to do so. He was brutal, precise, deadly - beautiful. And yet, with every twist and turn, with every jump and spin, there was an underlying grace to it.

It was different from when he skated with her. He was more guarded, more cautious. But by himself, he was just that. Himself.

And it stole her breath away. Her heart to leaped as she watched him carve up the ice.

She didn’t mean to stop and stare. She was simply earlier for practice than she normally was. She’d planned to use the extra time to fit in some more hours of practice. But the moment she stepped through the rink doors, the sound of blades on the ice met her ears. That was when she’d found Cassian, and then found herself unable to look away.

It was also not helping her one bit in sorting out her thoughts.

After her talk with Feyre in the dressing room, her mind had been all over the place. It was frustrating, irritating, and annoying as all hell, but also confusing and heart wrenching.

Rhys and Cassian, they’re the good guys.

Feyre hadn’t mentioned the talk since it had happened. For the most part, they both acted like it hadn’t, even though they were less hostile towards each other after. Still, Nesta didn’t know what to make of what Feyre had said.

She hadn’t been with anyone since Tomas. Hadn’t had a desire to be with anyone since then. Her life was skating and skating was her life. And yet, when she looked at the man before her, a man that drove her completely and utterly insane, a man she wanted nothing more than to simply smile at her, she felt something. Something she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to figure out.

Nesta let out a frustrated sigh, about to make her way towards the dressing room, when she saw it.

She saw him line up the jump, she saw him set it up the toe loop before throwing himself in the air. She saw him spin, once… twice… a third time… and then...

She couldn't believe her eyes - eyes that she was sure were bulging out of her head as Cassian landed the quad toe perfectly, head held high before he turned around.

His eyes immediately locked with hers.

Nesta was speechless. She didn’t know what to say, what to do. It took a hell of a lot to make her freeze, to surprise her, but holy hell she couldn't help it right then.

It was only when Cassian raised a questioning eyebrow at her that Nesta took the slightest step closer to the ice - closer to Cassian.

“I didn’t know you could do a quad,” she breathed. “You’ve never done one at a competition before.”

Cassian held her gaze for a moment longer, hazel eyes unyielding. She could feel his gaze all the way to her toes, deep within her soul.

After a moment, Cassian shrugged.

“No, I haven’t.” That was all he said before skating off, clearly dismissing her.

For the second time in a span of a few moments, Nesta was at a loss for words. And she probably would have stood there for longer than she wanted to admit, if it wasn’t for the rink doors behind her opening and Rhys and Feyre walking in.

Swallowing hard, Nesta tore her gaze away from Cassian, her heart racing as she made her way into the dressing room.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t look up as Feyre walked in. Nesta simply threw on her skates, her fingers working on their own accord as they tightened the laces. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get the image of Cassian pulling that quad out of her head.

And that look he gave her. That unreadable expression on his face, so unlike any he’d ever given her. There was no teasing, no sparkle in his eyes, no smirk pulling on his lips. His face was completely blank as he looked at her. What did that mean?

Nesta wanted to rip her hair out as she finished tying up her skates.

She didn’t want to care that much about why Cassian was looking at her a certain way.

But damn her. Because she fucking did.

With her mind reeling, Nesta stood up, Feyre not long behind her. The sisters locked eyes for the briefest moment before making their way out onto the ice without sharing a single word.

Nesta skated over to where Coach Carver and Cassian were standing, coming to a stop as she placed her water bottle on the boards.

“We have so much to do and not much time,” Coach Carver said in a way of greeting. “So here’s the plan. Do a quick warm up then we’ll do the routine from the beginning. I’ll make notes on everything that needs to be worked on, and we’ll go from there.”

Nesta nodded as Cassian mumbled a yes sir. But before she even had a chance to glance over at him, he was skating down the ice.

Coach Carver looked at her with a raised eyebrow, one that Nesta normally would have returned with a snappy comment. But her mind was buzzing, she couldn't think straight or make sense of what was going on herself. So she pretended she didn’t notice Coach and took off.

And by the time they got off the ice, she wanted to scream.

She’d be lying if she said practice got better as it went on. Because it didn’t.

Not that it was a bad practice, they had definitely had worse. However even when they had bad practices, Cassian still looked at her, talked to her.

Today, he would hardly look at her, hardly said two words to her.

It caused Nesta’s frustration to grow and grow until she felt ready to explode.

She didn’t know what she’d done to him, what she had said to make him distance himself from her, but she was going to find out. Their careers were at stake. Even she could put aside whatever she was feeling towards Cassian for her National title.

Zipping up her skating bag, Nesta stood up off the bench. She threw on her jacket, hardly glancing at Feyre as she walked out of the dressing room.

She stood there, marching back and forth as she waited for Cassian to walk out of the men's dressing room. Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long. A moment later, Cassian walked out, Rhys not far behind him.

They were talking in hushed tones, but the moment they spotted her standing there, they stopped. Both of them turned their gazes to her. But it was Cassian’s that Nesta couldn't look away from. Those hazel eyes that seemed to sparkle in the stadium light. Eyes that held question, confusion, a number of things that Nesta couldn't bring herself to look further into. Eyes that haunted her every waking moment, eyes she saw every night, moments before sleep took her.

Nesta realized she could have stood there all night staring into those eyes, if it wasn’t for the raised eyebrow Cassian gave her. Or the sound of a dressing room door slamming shut behind her, followed by Feyre’s footsteps.

An audience. Great.

Clearing her throat, Nesta held her chin high, eyes hard as she looked at Cassian.

“We need to talk.”

“And on that note -” Rhys trailed off, giving Cassian a clap on the back before he and Feyre walked out of the rink. But Cassian didn’t so much as glance their way or bid them farewell. Neither did Nesta, not even when she felt Feyre glance over her shoulder at her.

Cassian crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall behind him.

“You want to talk?”

“Yes.” Nesta’s voice was clipped, tight.

Cassian simply hummed, his eyes raking over her from head to toe. For the life of her she couldn’t get a read on his expression whatsoever.

A beat of silence passed by. Followed by another, then another. Nesta’s irritation level was growing, and she was just about to snap when Cassian pushed off of the wall.

He took two slow, careful steps towards her, and their eyes locked. It was only when he was standing inches away that he spoke.

“Have a drink with me.”

The closed off part of her was screaming at her to say no. Begging her to walk away. But with every passing moment, with every beat of her heart that secretly wanted - Nesta couldn't bring herself to listen to that part of her.

Gaze like frost, brows pinched, Nesta kept her eyes locked on those hazel orbs as she said just one word.

“Okay.”

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

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Cassian’s laugh rumbled deep within him as he took a sip of his drink. He placed the glass on the bar, glancing over at Nesta. The dim lighting and smoky atmosphere caused her smoky eyes to all but glow. Her brassy hair was out of its normal ponytail, falling over her shoulder and down her back in long locks. Her expression was relaxed, lips lazy, and eyes glossy from all the drinks they’d had so far.

She was the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen.

Cassian couldn’t help but admire her beauty for a moment as he gave her an idle smile. “What for this time?”

Nesta turned to face him fully, elbow on the bar as she rested her cheek against her fist.

“You can do a quad,” she slurred slightly, “and yet for whatever reason, you’ve never done one at a competition.”

Cassian gave a lazy shrug, a smile plastered to his face. “I never had a need to.”

“Mhmm.” Nesta reached for her glass, draining the last of its contents. “Funny. I don’t recall you getting gold at Nationals these past few years.”

Cassian paused mid-drink. His gaze snapped towards her, only to find a sinful smile on those full lips.

“You,” he breathed, returning the smile, “are a wicked woman, Nesta Archeron.”

“I simply speak the truth, Cassian Guerrero,” she returned. “Now. Explain yourself.”

Cassian shook his head slightly, flagging down the bartender to refill their glasses. They were long past the point of Nesta fighting the idea of another drink.

“Sometimes,” he said, turning back to her, “it’s not all about winning.”

Nesta snorted a laugh. “Then why be in figure skating if you don’t want to win?”

“I didn’t say I don’t want to win. I’m just not as crazy about the idea as you.”

At any other point, that comment would have earned him a slap across the face. But this Nesta, drunk Nesta, simply laughed. An airy magical sound that Cassian wanted to bottle up and keep with him forever.

He wanted to see that version of Nesta more. The carefree version as opposed to the version who walked around with the weight of the world on her shoulders. He loved stubborn, hot-tempered, devastating Nesta. But as the sound washed over him, he made it his personal mission to make her laugh more. To make her smile more. To make her have fun.

Nesta took a sip of her re-filled glass before looking back up at Cassian.

“How did you get into skating?” She asked, catching him off guard.

Cassian met her gaze, those bright blue-grey eyes reminding him of light shining through a frosty window. And maybe it was all the drinks he’d had that night. Or maybe it was the genuine and sincere look on Nesta’s face, and how that look had his heart leaping in his chest. Either way, he found the smile slipping off his face, as his eyes trained on the wooden bar.

“My parents were pretty shit growing up,” he said, voice solemn. “I spent most of my time with Rhys and his family. Rhys’ mother was a big skater, she’d almost made it to the Olympics before she met Rhys’ father. That’s the reason they put Rhys through skating in the first place. Because of that, he spent a lot of his time at the rink. And the more time I spent with Rhys-”

“The more time you spent at the rink.”

Cassian lifted his gaze. He found Nesta’s gaze locked on him, glossy yet unyielding, as he nodded.

“She - Rhys’ mom - she put me through skating. And… I fell in love with it. She saw that and paid for everything for me until I was able to support myself, since my own parents wouldn’t give me a dime.” He couldn't keep the resentment out of his voice as he gripped his glass tighter.

There was a beat of silence. Just a beat, before Nesta spoke, her eyes never leaving him.

“Your parents?”

Cassian took a swig of his drink. “My mom died when I was 13, and I have no fucking clue where my dad is. Nor do I care honestly.”

A fact. Cassian hadn’t been in contact with his father for almost ten years. He wasn’t about to change that.

He finished his drink in one swallow, allowing the liquid to warm his blood as he watched the empty glass in his hand.

“She’s the one who taught us about skating,” he explained, voice soft. Such a contrast to just a few moments ago.

“Rhys’ mom?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “She's the one who drilled it into our heads that it wasn’t just about winning. If you don’t have fun, if you just think about getting the gold, you’ll lose yourself completely. I… I owe everything to her. She saved me. Her and Rhys.”

Nesta never once took her eyes off of him. He could feel her gaze burning into his skin. As he finally lifted his own eyes to meet hers, he could basically see the wheels turning in her mind.

At last, a few words slipped past her lips. “Is she…?”

Cassian nodded, running a hand through his hair. “A few years ago.”

Nesta didn’t say anything to that, not as she finally took her eyes off Cassian. Not as she finished off her drink in one gulp. It was only when she placed her hand on Cassian’s knee, giving it a squeeze, that her eyes trained on him again.

Cassian almost jumped out of his skin at the touch. His eyes traveled from her slender hand to her eyes, and he knew in that moment, she was going to kill him.

Her hand jerked off his knee just as fast as it had been placed. After getting his drink refilled and taking a big sip, Cassian turned to her.

“Can I ask you a question?”

In the morning, he’d blame the question on all of the drinks. On the mood they had set between them. On the open and raw look in Nesta’s eyes and the talk about Rhys’ mom. But right then, he had to ask. Maybe that made him a dick, he didn’t know. But as Nesta nodded, turning to face him fully on her stool, he couldn’t help it as the words left his mouth.

“What happened between you and Tomas Mandray?”

Nesta’s back went ramrod straight, her eyes widening in shock, surprise. The question had clearly caught her off guard. And as she turned back to the bar, eyes trained on her drink, Cassian regretted even opening his mouth.

“It's not important,” she said at last, sipping from her glass. “It’s in the past, and I’ve moved on.”

Nothing was said for a long while. Nesta turned back to her drink, taking a slow, almost lazy sip. But her hand gripped the glass so tight her knuckles turned white. Her jaw was clenched. Her eyes held a far-off look in them, a pool of emotion swimming inside. So much anger and pain and a familiar suffering, although different from his own. But also, there was the underlying fear again, and suddenly Cassian was back at the hockey game. He remembered that same look in her eyes when she saw Tomas - the same stiffness, the same expression, the same-

Cassian couldn't stop himself as realization slowly spread through him, and anger started to simmer beneath his skin.

“Did he-”

“No.” Nesta’s voice was cold, firm. Cassian watched as she placed the glass down, hand shaking just the slightest bit. He didn’t dare speak as she closed her eyes tightly. But only a second passed before she ran a hand through her hair, a sigh leaving her lips. “He tried to, but I gave him a few good claw marks and a knee to the balls before it got far.”

Pure white hot anger swam through Cassian’s veins as he gripped his glass so tight, he thought it would break.

“I’ll kill him the next time I see him.”

A laugh flew past Nesta’s lips. A laugh that probably wouldn't have been as joyful if it wasn’t for all of the drinks.

“I can handle myself, you overprotective ass,” she said, looking back at him once more.

Despite himself, Cassian felt a grin form on his lips. “Oh believe me, I know.”

Hazel eyes locked with stormy grey ones. The smallest most stunning smile appeared on Nesta’s lips, and Cassian felt his stomach tighten at the sight. At the heated and glossy look in her eyes.

“Dance with me,” he whispered into the night, without even realizing what he was asking.

“Okay,” Nesta whispered back.

With a lopsided grin, Cassian stood up off the barstool. He stumbled slightly, liquor rushing to his head, before holding out his hand. And when Nesta’s fingers laced with his, it felt like flames were flying up his arm and gripping his heart, never letting go.

He led Nesta onto the dancefloor, a slow tune playing as he pulled her into his embrace.

It was different from all the times he’d held her in his arms on the ice, from every time he’d touched her hip or gripped her hand. More intimate. As he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flesh to him. As her arms snaked around his shoulders and her head rested on his shoulder. He knew it was probably because of all of the drinks - she was feeling tired and drowsy. But he still felt it deep within his soul. As he held that beautifully strong and fierce woman in his arms, every nerve and cell in his body felt it. And he couldn't stop the chuckle that left his lips.

“What are you laughing at?”

Cassian looked down to find Nesta watching him, her face so close to his.

“You,” he mumbled, pulling her closer as he shook his head. “You have your claws so deep in me you don’t even know, Nesta Archeron.”

“You’re drunk,” Nesta mumbled.

“No,” Cassian breathed. “Not that drunk.”

“Only someone drunk would say that.”

Cassian chuckled once more. And then, before he could stop himself, before he even knew what he was doing, he placed his lips on top of Nesta’s head, the kiss light as a feather.

He felt Nesta’s breath hitch as it tickled his neck. But neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. They simply stayed in each other's embrace. For that night, they could get away with it. In the morning, they could blame it on the drinks, pretend it hadn’t happened if they so desired. But Cassian didn’t want to think about that.

No. For right then, he would continue to hold Nesta in his arms, both of them clinging onto one another. Holding on tight and never wanting to let go.

455 notes · View notes

illyrianbeauty · 6 years

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A Not So Chance Encounter: Chapter 9

Rhys is persuaded to attend a fundraiser by his cousin Mor. He didn’t expect to meet the girl of his dreams.

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Writing Masterlist

Chapter 9: The Proposition

Rhys mulled over his plan the entire drive back to his apartment. He didn’t think there was any possibility of Feyre saying no. It was foolproof. It was a good opportunity for Feyre, and selfishly, it gave him the chance to see her more often. He entered his apartment and shrugged off his jacket. Pulling out his phone, he flopped down on the couch. Rhys pressed the power button on his phone and waited for the device to boot up. As he expected, there were already several texts from the family group text. Bracing himself for the onslaught, he opened the text thread.

Amren: Just so you know Rhys, I approve of the girl

The Queen: Just wanted to share this juicy detail- he’s in her contacts as Prince Prick!!!

Pain in the Cass: hahaha! I knew I liked her for a reason!

Az: She’s a keeper, Rhys

Pain in the Cass: Rhys and Feyre sitting in a tree…

Az: Oh shut up, Cass. They’re cute together

Pain in the Cass: He’s in deep shit, Az. He needs our help

The Queen: Oh, hell no! You two stay out of it!

The Queen: I mean it, Cassian!

Pain in the Cass: Damn! I’m just trying to help!

Pain in the Cass: I mean, come on! Was I the only one who saw Rhys and Feyre almost make out tonight??

Rhys buried his head in his hands. By the Cauldron, his family was going to be the death of him!

Prince Prick: What the hell Cass?????

Prince Prick: You have officially lost your mind!

Az: You did say she looked delicious

Pain in the Cass: BEST LINE EVER!!!

Pain in the Cass: I am so going to use that!

The Queen: Never thought I’d say this, but I have to agree with Cass...

The Queen: You and Feyre seemed awfully cozy at one point tonight

Prince Prick: I hate you all!

Amren: Shove it. The truth hurts, boy.

Rhys shook his head and closed the text thread. He couldn’t deal with his family right now. He opened up the Three Musketeers group text. He hadn’t heard from Feyre yet. Had Mor dropped her off already?

Prince Prick: Did you lovely ladies make it home alright?

Feyre Darling: Yes, you worrywart.

Feyre Darling: BTW- thanks again for the ride Mor

The Queen: Welcome! Love you, Fey!

The Queen: Well... I guess I love you too cousin

Prince Prick: I know you do. Who wouldn’t?

Feyre Darling: OMG! You 2 are worse than children

Feyre Darling: Thanks again for dinner Rhys. :)

Prince Prick: Anytime Darling! I’m glad you came

The Queen: Me too! We should have family dinners more often.

The Queen: Fey, just so you know… we voted

Feyre Darling: ???????

The Queen: You are officially part of the family now!

Feyre Darling: Should I be honored by that... or scared?

The Queen: HAHAHA!!! ;)

Prince Prick: Both. Definitely both

Feyre Darling: Gotta go. Night y'all

Feyre Darling: Happy bday Rhysee Poo!!

Prince Prick: I’ll let you two get your beauty sleep. Cauldron knows Mor is horribly cranky without it!

The Queen: I’m going to let that one slide since we are celebrating your birthday tonight. Good night ass!

The Queen: Night Fey!

Closing the thread, Rhys picked up his new painting from Feyre. She really was extremely talented! He didn’t remember ever mentioning it to Feyre, but he had always felt a strange attraction to the night sky. There was something about it that made him feel safe. Though it sounded like a contradiction, it made him feel powerful. He set the painting down and decided to call it an evening. Monday. He would put his plan into action Monday.

***

Rhys reclined in his office chair, drumming his fingers on the top of his desk. Everything had been set into motion. He had spoken to Nuala this morning to relay his intentions. She had fallen in love with the painting, just as he had expected. Now, all that remained was calling Feyre and getting her to agree. He had stalled long enough. He picked up his phone and found her number amongst his contacts. Uttering a quick prayer, he pressed the call button. While they had texted multiple times a day, he had never actually spoken to her on the phone. He was so preoccupied with his nervousness, he almost didn’t noticed she had answered.

“Hey prick!”

Holy gods. She had answered the phone! He recovered from his surprise quickly with, “Hello darling! Are you busy right now, or do you have a quick second?”

“I have about 10 minutes before I have to leave for work. What’s up?”

Taking a deep breath, Rhys explained his idea to Feyre. And was then met by complete silence. Fuck. That was not a good sign.

“Feyre? Are you still there?” he asked with dread. He had messed up. It had sounded like a good idea at the time. Maybe he hadn’t explained his idea well. Had it been too much?

“You’re joking, right?” she asked, her tone somewhat incredulous. Oh, thank the Cauldron she hadn’t hung up on him.

“No. Not at all. We have some authors who are extremely picky about the artwork on the cover. Even our most seasoned cover designers can’t make them happy. Nuala, she’s the head of the art department, saw your painting and loved it. We thought that a talented artist, such as yourself, would be the answer to our problem.” A half truth. She didn’t need to know that the order of events, as he explained them, weren’t exactly accurate.

“You want me to come work for you?” Feyre asked, her every word laced with confusion.

Rhys stood up and began pacing around his office. “Well, for Velaris… yes. You’d be able to set your own hours each week, depending on your school schedule.” He could tell his voice was taking on a somewhat desperate tone. “You could work from home, if you wanted, and bring the art to the office once you finished. Or you could come to Velaris. We’d set you up a little space in the art department for you to work.” Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes.

“You’re serious,” she stated, seeming to need reassurance.

“Absolutely.” Serious about spending more time with you, darling.

“You are insane, Rhysand!” she chuckled. Well, she hadn’t said no. That was something, but he still needed an answer.

“Is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes! You are offering me a chance to create art and get paid for it. How in the hell could I say no to that?”

Oh, thank the Cauldron! He felt a big grin worm its way onto his face.

“But…” she paused and Rhys felt as though he had been punched in the gut.

“But?” Why was she hesitating? He wished he knew what she was thinking.

“Even if you’re my boss, I still get to call you a prick.”

Rhys tipped his head back and barked out a laugh, relief pulsing through him. Gods, she was perfection! “Just as long as I still get to call you Feyre Darling. Then you have yourself a deal.”

“Well, then it looks like I’ll need to put in my two week notice when I get to work today.” Feyre’s excitement was palpable, even through the phone.

“Let me know when you’ll have some free time. You’ll have to come into the office to fill out some paperwork.” Rhys could hardly contain his elation.

“Ok. Sounds good. I gotta get to work now, but I’ll text you later!”

“Alright. Bye, Darling.”

“Bye Prick. And thanks! This means a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome. Velaris is lucky to have such an amazing artist.”

Feyre snorted, “Even as my boss, you’re still a huge flirt. Talk to you later.”

Rhys hung up the phone and heaved a sigh of relief. She had agreed! Now he had a valid excuse to talk to her, and see her, more often. He ran a hand through his hair and contemplated his next move.

***

“See, Mor! I told you he needed our help!” Cass sneered, shaking his head. “You really messed this up, Rhys.”

Rhys and his inner circle were lounging around his living room, after having enjoyed an enormous Thanksgiving dinner. He was currently sharing the couch with Az and Amren. Cass had sprawled out across a recliner off to the left while Mor was holding court from the one to the right.

Mor raised a brow and demanded, “Oh really? And tell us, oh wise one. How exactly did he mess anything up?”

Cass scoffed, “He gave her a job at Velaris.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Rhys demanded. He was seriously regretting telling the family anything about his current plans.

“Even if she does eventually break it off with the asshole, Feyre doesn’t seem to strike me as the kind of girl who goes around shagging her boss.”

Rhys had to admit that Cass had a point. Perhaps he had been a tad short sighted in his desire for an excuse to see Feyre more. Well, it’s not like she was planning on working for the company forever. She wanted to open her own art gallery someday. Maybe he could help out with that, somehow. Wow. He was getting way ahead of himself.

Amren interrupted his brooding by vocalizing his thoughts, “She doesn’t have to work for Velaris for the rest of her life. Just long enough for her to fall for Rhys. And get rid of the extra baggage.”

“That’s one way of describing him!” Az smirked.

Mor said with deliberate care, “What is your plan, Rhys? About Tamlin that is. We are going to have to tell her eventually.”

He rested his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. “I know.” He ran a hand over his face and continued, “I’ve thought about it. A lot. Honestly, I have no idea how to tell her.”

Rhys may live to regret this, but he looked at Cass and asked, “Any suggestions, brother?”

A fiendish grin lit up Cassian’s face. He glanced at Az and said wickedly, “You could always take her to dinner beforehand. And make sure you call her delicious again!”

The room erupted into loud and boisterous laughter. Rhys just groaned, “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

This time it was Az who answered with a resounding “No.”

“Seriously though Rhys, you need to tell her the truth. The whole truth. It’ll be a lot better coming from you or Mor than if she hears some version of the truth from Tamlin.”

True. He shuddered to think about what lies he would tell Feyre. He looked to Mor and saw a look that probably mirrored his own- trepidation with a tad bit of resolve.

“I think we can all agree that Mor and I need to talk to her about Tamlin. But how? Can you imagine that conversation?” He rolled his eyes and continued somewhat bitterly, “How was school today Feyre? By the way, your boyfriend is an evil little cockroach.”

“Well, maybe not quite that dramatic. But essentially, yes.” Amren contributed. With a shrug of her shoulders, she continued, “It doesn’t need to be complicated. You and Mor take her to dinner and tell her everything.”

“I agree. Now, onto more important matters. How are we going to break up Feyre and Tamlin?” Cassian asked conspiratorially.”

“You’re an idiot.” Rhys bit out.

“Besides, it’s not that simple,” Mor said, biting her bottom lip.

“What do you mean, girl?” Amren asked for him.

His cousin glanced at him nervously before saying, “Well, she lives with him. So, it’s not going to be as easy as him just pissing her off.”

“Ok, so it’s going to take something big to get her to break up with him. And then Rhys can come in and sweep her off her feet.” Az said.

“Alright you guys. That’s enough. We are not going to do anything to break them up. Got it?” Rhys’s declaration was met by incredulous looks.

“Why the hell not? The guy is a total asshole.” Cassian asked.

“Asshole or not, Feyre loves him. It’s not up to us to decide who she should be with. It’s her choice. It should always be her choice.” he said passionately.

“If I didn’t know better, brother, I’d say you were in love.” Az said with a sidelong look in his direction and a smile on his lips.

Rhys couldn’t find it in himself to disagree.

***

After cooking and putting up with his family’s antics all day, Rhys was exhausted. He threw on an old tshirt and a pair of ragged sweatpants and fell into bed. The rest of the dishes could wait until tomorrow. His thoughts inevitably drifted towards Feyre. He hadn’t heard from her at all today. Without even intending to, he texted her. Talking to her was as easy as breathing, and just as necessary. She had become essential to him, to his life, and she didn't even know it yet.

Prince Prick: How was your day? Did you survive?

Feyre Darling: It was rather interesting.

Feyre Darling: But no casualties that I know of

The Queen: You mean Nesta didn’t kill Elain’s boy?

The Queen: *gasps in shock

Feyre Darling: Graysen seemed… ok. At least he seemed to make Elain happy.

Prince Prick: I’m sensing a but coming…

Feyre Darling: I’m probably overreacting, but something was just… off.

Feyre Darling: Like I said, it’s probably nothing

The Queen: Trust your instincts girl. If something seems off, then there’s probably a reason

The Queen: At least you didn’t have to kill him. Or Nesta

Prince Prick: We’d hate to have to spend a perfectly good weekend finding a lawyer for you ;)

Feyre Darling: I already have a lawyer picked out for those pesky family murder situations, I’ll have you know.

The Queen: lol We missed you today, Fey! Next holiday you spend with us! Prince Prick: Agreed. And no, you don’t get any say in the matter!

Feyre Darling: I think I can agree to those terms. Pricks

Feyre Darling: Before I end up in a food coma and forget- I have free time Monday afternoon. Can I come to Velaris and fill out the paperwork then?

Prince Prick: Of course, Darling! Looking forward to it!

Rhys let out a contented sigh. Feyre would be working with them soon and he would be able to see her more often. Mor and he had decided that they would take Feyre to dinner after she had settled into her new position in order to broach the subject of Tamlin with her. What could possibly go wrong?

#acotar fanfiction #acotar #acomaf #acowar #feysand #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron #feysand fanfiction #rhysand #rhyspov

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writinredhead · 7 years

Photo

13 Days of Sniperpilot Day 4 - Ghosts and Gore

Prompt: ‘I always have the best conversations with you at your grave’ - Read on AO3

Cassian presses the back of his hands against his eyes, but even that can’t hold back the tears running down his face, hot and salty, soaking into the collar of his jacket. The hole in his chest still feels as raw and ragged as if only a day went by instead of a whole year. He can’t believe that so much time has passed already since that fateful night. For Cassian, it’s as if time stopped then and there. He presses harder, hoping to conjure up the strength to speak. That’s what he came for, after all.

He takes in a sharp breath and the sob that escapes makes him sound broken even to himself. There’s a wobbly feeling in his legs and he stretches out a hand to brace himself against the cold stone.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” he begins haltingly. “Ridiculous, isn’t it? I came all this way to talk to you and now I don’t know what to say.” He attempts a laugh but fails. “You’d know what to say, I’m sure. You were always good at talking, even better at making me talk.”

Nostalgia floods through Cassian as he traces his hand over the top of the stone, feeling the smooth, cold surface, only interrupted by tiny patches of moss starting to grow. Memories of laughter and excited chatter pop into his mind, making his eyes grow wet again and the words harder to get out. If that is even possible.

“Now…” Cassian swallows. “Now it’s just quiet at home.”

A gust of wind picks up some of the fallen leaves and whirls them around him, the only splash of colour besides the flowers he’s brought with him. Cassian looks at the bright yellow petals, contrasting against the bleak marble with nothing but an inscription on it.

‘Why do you like them so much? They’re plain and ordinary. Just simple buttercups.’

‘Hmm, good question. Maybe because they remind me of a sunny morning, no matter the weather. They make me smile. Like you.’

Cassian’s chest clenches and he needs a moment before he opens his mouth to say what he came for. What’s most important. What he can never say enough. What he’ll never have the chance to say again.

“I love you. I’ll always love you, even if you’re not here with me anymore.” Another, choked breath wrenches itself up his throat and he balls his fists. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I miss you. I miss you, do you hear me? I miss you every single, godforsaken day! I -”

His voice breaks as he loses the fight against the tears.

“Please don’t cry. I never liked seeing you cry. It makes me sad too.”

Cassian’s head snaps up and he looks around, sure of having heard a familiar voice, as impossible as that is.

He can’t see anyone, though. No one else is with him, except for a lone crow sitting in one of the weeping willows. He’s all alone on the graveyard on this grey October morning. Just as grey and foggy as it had been one year ago, driving down Highway 101, going homewards, not seeing the oncoming truck leave its lane.

Cassian bites his knuckles, but the ensuing pain is no match for the one in his chest. He shouldn’t have come.

He turns to leave - to go home, not to run away as his heart tells him that he is - when he feels the hold of a hand on his arm, stopping him.

“Don’t go yet. Please. I haven’t seen you in so long.”

The hand first warps around his, squeezing his fingers like a long overdue greeting, then moves up to cup his cheek, lovingly caressing his face.

Cassian doesn’t know what to do. Is he going insane? Is he finally losing it? He’s had nightmares before, or rather, had dreams. The nightmares are what’s awaiting him when he wakes up, panting and his name still on Cassian’s lips. This is the first time his hallucinations have become so tangible. He’s getting worse.

And still. He doesn’t go. Doesn’t run.

“… Bodhi?” Cassian asks, carefully, not knowing if he’s more afraid to get an answer or silence in response. “Is… is that you?”

“Yes,” the voice says, and Cassian still can’t see anyone. “I’m here. I never really left you.” The cool, gentle touch of fingers moves over his cheek, brushing away a tear that has yet to dry. “In some way, I’m always with you, you know.”

Cassian’s knees buckle. He sinks down in front of the headstone. Earth, moist from fog and dew, dampening his jeans. The arm wraps around his shoulders. It should feel cool, like the fingers, but the memory it evokes burns as hot as fire. If this is going insane, he welcomes it.

“It’s good to see your face again. I’m sorry I couldn’t visit. I tried to, but it looks like I can’t leave here.”

“Bodhi…” Not able to find the right words, Cassian just repeats his name between shaky breaths. “Bodhi, I… ”

“I know. I love you too, Cass.”

Cassian revels in the touch, lets it take him back to days long gone. He stays like that, on the ground and wrapped in an invisible embrace, until somewhere in the distance he hears Jyn calling his name, apparently worried enough to come after him, even though he’d insisted on going alone.

The voice chuckles, and it reminds Cassian of a wind chime. “Go with her. She’s going to be mad if she has to search the whole place, only to find you in the dirt.” A bit quieter, it adds, “I’m glad someone’s looking after you. You need that.”

“What? I can’t - I can’t go now.” He’s finally found his voice again. “I have so much tell you, there’s so much I never said, and -”

The cool hand with the warm touch rubs over his back and squeezes his shoulder. “Then just come back. I’ll be here for as long as you need me to. Just come back to me, Cassian.”

Filling his lungs with the crisp air, Cassian stands up and straightens his back, trying to regain his composure. He nods. Slowly. A promise to the both of them.

“Okay,” he says. “I will.”

“Good.” The sound of the voice one that Cassian associates with a bright smile and gorgeous eyes looking at him while lazing in bed together. “I’m looking forward to it.”

The leaves on the ground rustle again and Cassian feels the soft press of lips on his cheek. It’s gone before he can lean into it.

As he closes the rusty iron gate, stepping back into the world of the living, he turns around once more. The sun is breaking through the fog.

He should have come sooner.

#sniperpilot #bassian #sniperpilot halloween #day 4 #prompt ghosts and gore #shoot i made myself sad with this #i'm so sorry everyone #al makes an aesthetic #my fic #tw death #tw grief

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bittersweetff · 7 years

Text

1. - meet & greet.

C A S S A N D R A.

Candy crush was the only thing capturing my attention as my feet continued down the busy sidewalk. I was on my way to the tenth acting audition this month, and my confidence level was somewhat dwindling by the second but I had a feeling this audition would be different. I couldn’t help but remember the conversation I had with a close friend of mine. And just as he popped into my head, a chirping sound erupted from my phone from the man himself.

chase: bruh another audition? you’re missin’ out on this joint.

I sighed, knowing a blunt would’ve been the best to solve my anxiety before this audition. A few short seconds have gone by and I’ve finally decided to compose a text message.

me: yes, but this one feels different. match up when i get home?

It wasn’t long before he replied back. My eyes quickly scanned over the street signs and it took me a minute before I realized I was a block down from my destination. Mentally prepping myself and summoning the last bit of confidence I had, I jogged across the street. Before walking in, I casually fixed my blouse and took a deep breath.

“Welcome, come sign in please,” the lady at the front desk spoke low without making eye contact. Not only did my anxiety heightened but my palms were starting to shake tremendously. I took my time walking to the front desk with my eyes glued to my phone, I read Chase’s text hoping he’d give me some type of luck.

chase: nigga you said that about the last one. but i got you, & don’t be stutterin’ during the audition either. lmao!!!!

Instead of the encouragement, he managed to make me even more nervous. I pouted and shoved my phone back into my back pocket. Niggas really ain’t shit. Walking up towards the desk, I secretly scanned over the lady before picking up the nearest pen to write my name, phone & address on the sign in sheet. I scanned the rest of the room and noticed there were a few people lounging in the wait area. Great, the chances of me getting the part are extremely low now. Worst case scenario, I’d have to get a real job and wallow around in my spare time. I randomly sat next to the boy whom looked the most confident in the room. Hoping his confidence would rub off on me. Throwing my leg over the other, I patiently waited for my name to be called. It wasn’t long before the boy beside me finally looked up from the rehearsal sheet and turned to observe me.

“I’m guessing you came to tryout for Juliet’s part, correct?” His voice was soft and his smile was wide. I returned the smile and shook my head, “Not quite. I’m trying out for the mother.” I said above a whisper.

“Ha, you’re too attractive looking to play the mother.” He laughed, “Besides, if you were to get the part of Lady Capulet do you realize you’d make Romeo reconsider fuckin’ with Juliet,” He chuckled some more causing me to laugh at his stupidity.

“I can see it now. Juliet move out thy way you’re blocking thy view of your mother!” He continued on, as we both laughed at the visualization. I placed my hand over my mouth to muffle my urge to laugh loudly. He continued making jokes and laughter eventually began to take over the silence of the waiting room.

“Oh, I’m Lilo by the way. Glad to be the cause of your laughter,” He smiled and reached to shake my hand.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Cassandra.”

Another, more stern voice is what snatched our heads in the direction of a lady reading from a clipboard.

“Lilo Styles,” Her voice was loud and sounded irritable, “You’re up next.” Her eyes gazed upon every person in the waiting room before she turned on her heels and walked back into the room. She didn’t seem amused with the crowd but that didn’t bother Lilo. He shot up from his seat beside me and continued to the door. Now I was all alone, and my anxiety was driving me insane.

C H A S E.

Found myself glancing at the clock for the twelfth time in the past hour before turning my attention back to the backwood I was in the middle of stuffing with marijuana. Couldn’t tell you how many blunts I took to the face, but I wasn’t tired. Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I shot Cass another text before my phone began to go off again for the second time. Immediately, I smacked my teeth as I read over the contact name. Wynter. Can’t duck and dodge her forever. Without hesitation, I answered the call. Mentally preparing myself for the fuckery waiting to pour from my phone.

“When the fuck you gon’ come see ya’ baby nigga?” She said, instantly causing my temple to throb out of annoyance. I had no clue why females think it would be cool to pin someone else’s baby on you but I was starting to regret messin’ with her ass.

“Bruh, you know that’s not my baby. Chill the fuck out,” I mumbled into the phone, bringing the backwood up to my lips to seal it.

“I knew you wasn’t shit when I first saw you! Hoe ass nigga! And this is ya’ baby because I named him after you!” She started raising her voice.

“You keep duckin’ and dodgin’ me nigga. What you need to be doin’ is sending me money for your big head baby!” She bellowed.

“Look, I’m cool with getting a DNA test done. But you’re not about to trap me and have me taking care of someone else’s baby, Wynter,” I spoke calmly as I finished sealing the backwood and placed it behind my ear.

“Mhm, DNA test my ass. Why can’t you believe me? It’s yours Chase,” Her voice was beginning to get soft, almost as if she was on the verge of crying. This conversation was making me have thoughts of taking care of a child. Maybe she was right? What if the baby was mine?

“Man, I don’t know. We only had sex once. The chances of you getting pregnant from that one time,” I shook my head, running my free hand over my face. I was silently praying she wasn’t gonna cry on me, “Besides, I’m pretty positive I strapped up anyway.” I added, forcing myself to go over every little detail of that specific night.

“So! Chase, you act like condoms can’t break,” She spoke with a slight attitude causing me to smack my teeth. Seconds go by and my phone rang again, informing me I had another phone call. I pulled the phone from my ear and looked at my notifications. Unknown number, including a text from Cass. I declined the number and read over Cass’s text.

cass: omw, hoe. have the blunt ready to go, i’m sweatin’.

“Look, Wynter, I gotta go,” I responded after minutes of silence. I’ve had enough of these mind games from women. A nigga already stressed as it is, now I gotta worry about the possibility of having a child.

“Yea, sure you do. Go. Run off. Do you, Chase.” She snapped. Not giving me a chance to speak before she decided to hang up on me. A heavy sign escaped from my lips as I tossed the phone on the coffee table placed in front of me, not giving any thought to the unknown number. I threw my back against the cushioned couch and removed the blunt from behind my ear. I could hear the doorknob squeak before Cassandra bursts through the front door.

“I could’ve been getting my dick sucked and you wanna burst through the door,” I chuckled, placing the blunt between my lips as I rummaged through my pocket for my lighter.

Cass’s laughter captivated the room as she made her way over to the couch. She wrapped her arms around my neck as if she was putting me in a headlock, “I guess but who would really suck that shrimp of yours,” She laughed some more. I smacked my teeth and shot her a look, “Yea, nigga, okay.” I muttered.

Cassandra released her grip from around my neck and hopped over the couch to sit beside me with her legs pulled up to her chest. After minutes of me digging in my pockets for a lighter, I gave up.

“Really, Chase. You had one job.” She shook her head and noticed my struggle. She pulled a purple lighter out of her purse and held it up to the blunt in my mouth. I took the longest hits of the century before passing the blunt to her.

“Yea, yea. Nigga you’d never guess who called me on some bullshit,” I muttered as I exhaled the smoke through my nose.

“Wynter, and don’t ask me how I know,” She spoke, taking the blunt from my hands and placing it between her lips. I looked at her with a side eye and did exactly what she told me not to do.

“How the hell do you know that?” I shifted in my seat, turning myself towards her.

“Duh, she was ventin’ on social media and I kinda guessed it was about you. Plus, Wynter is always on some bullshit,” She laughed, french inhaling the smoke. She took a few more hits before passing the backwood back to me.

“Yea,” I said while shaking my head, “She says her baby belongs to me though,” I added lowly, slouching deep into the cushioned couch and smoked more of the blunt, “I don’t know what the hell I’m suppose to do.”

Cass turned herself towards me completely. I noticed her face scrunched up in confusion before she started smacking my arm and chest.

“Are you dumb? Why are you getting attention seekin’ bitches pregnant? That’s the move now?” She spoke loudly with each blow to my arm and chest causing me to choke on the smoke I was in the middle of inhaling. I removed the blunt from my mouth and continued my fit of coughs.

“You crazy? No that’s not the move, and who the fuck knows that’s probably not my baby!” I spoke through each cough. The pain in my chest began to grow due to my coughing, “I haven’t seen her in over a year,” I held out the blunt to Cass before positioning myself comfortably on the couch again.

“She’s probably tryna trap you like she did her last dude,” She shrugged, taking a few hits from the blunt. She decided to plop back down on the couch beside me. The blunt was almost gone and by now we were both high as fuck – eyes low and red.

“What happened wit’ her last dude?” I asked, curiously.

“Long story short, she told him she was pregnant just so he can stay with her.” Cass giggled lowly, “She wasn’t pregnant. Dude was all confused when the 9th month was up and she didn’t pop.” She laughed harder, laying over the arm of the couch.

“Have you seen the baby yet?” She asked me after her fits of giggles seized, pulling at her sandals and tossing them on the floor.

“No I haven’t, actually,” I responded, “Now that I think about it.”

As if the conversation never happened, Cass handed what was left of the blunt back to me and pulled herself up from the couch groggily. She disappeared down the hallway, and left me in my thoughts.

X A V I E R.

Not only did my dick of a brother decline my phone call but now I’m out here walking around in the same ol’ white tank and grey sweats I was arrested in. It’s been a whole decade since I’ve had what many call freedom. I was locked up a few weeks before my 14th birthday, and walking down the isolated street and enjoying the October breeze was enough to make a nigga emotional.

I tried to remember the address of Chase’s place. I couldn’t tell what time it was since my favorite watch got snatched up from the officer that placed the cuffs on me years ago, but it felt like it was almost 2am. I grabbed my tank by the collar and tugged until the fabric split in two. No need having anything that reminded me of what use to be.

Allowing the torn tank to fall to the ground, I shoved both of my hands in the depths of my pockets and continued strolling down the street. I started to become familiar with my surroundings and it wasn’t long before I remembered where my destination was but I decided to stop by the local gas station before going home.

It only took me a minute or two to get there, and of course, I was greeted by the Arabic woman stationed behind the cash register. I nodded her way without any words and made my way to the back of the store. I only had a few wrinkled dollars in my pocket so I had to make sumn’ work. Grabbed me a can of Arizona Tea then made my way to the woman.

Placing the tea on the counter in front of her, I also gestured that I wanted a few backwoods from the shelf behind her. She did as I asked. Good girl. And it wasn’t long before I made my way out of the store & down the block to my bro’s crib.

I downed the tea and crushed the can before tossing it over a fence near by. I walked around towards the back of the house and tried to open the door like a regular person. Figuring out shortly after that all doors and windows were locked, my blood started to boil.

“Now if I shot this bitch up I would be a crazy ass nigga,” I muttered to myself.

I forced myself to take a few short breaths then decided to do what any other nigga would do. Bust my ass through one of these windows. I shoved the pack of backwoods in my back pocket then proceeded to pick the closest window and began using my elbow to break through. After minutes of trying, I finally succeeded. Tossing my leg first into the window, I lifted myself up and slide right through.

I noticed a small curvy figure was hovering over my body once I hit the floor. I wasn’t even given the chance to get up before what looked like a bat started slamming into my rib cage. The force was growing intense, and memories began flashing before my eyes. Now the pain traveled towards my back, shoulders and head. I remember the guards use to have friendly sessions coming into my cell just to beat on me and see how much pain I can take. Usually when they were done I was laying in a pool of my own blood.

The beating was getting a bit painful so I reached and grabbed ahold of the figure’s ankle and yanked as hard as I could. The figure’s fall was followed by a girlish scream. Now we were both on the floor, and the bat a few feet away from us. I took this time to regain some strength.

The door busts open, and I take a quick glance.

“Cass, the fuck you in here doin’,” Chase spoke lowly, wiping the sleepiness from his face. He made his way to the woman on the floor and helped her up, then he came to me.

“Yo, bro! You home already?!” He spoke excitedly, and attempted to help me up.

I grabbed his reached out hand and lifted myself from the floor. I was slouched over with one hand over my left rib cage. My eyes scanned over Chase and then the unknown woman standing by the door way with the metal bat in hand, glaring at me.

“Yea, I got out a few hours ago,” I choked out, “The fuck was wrong with ya’ phone you couldn’t answer my call nigga,” I spat, slightly having the taste of blood lingering in my mouth.

Chase smacked his teeth as a small smile laced his lips, “Didn’t know that was you, nigga,” He chuckled, “But I’m glad you’re home.” I chuckled in response, “Glad to be home.”

“Oh, yea, this is Cassandra. She lives here with me.” Chase nodded his head towards the lady by the door. My eyes shot directly at her, and her gaze shot in the opposite direction.

“She’s cool people,” He added, “One of my close friends, ya’know?”

“Yea, yea. Shut up, you probably fuckin’ shorty,” I laughed, ignoring the abdominal pain from my urge to laugh.

Before he could even form words to respond, a soft but stern voice bellowed from behind him. “You shut the fuck up. We are strictly friends,” She scuffed, rolling her eyes.

“Can we make this lil’ meet and greet quick, I was trying to sleep before bum over here wanted to disturb me.” She spat in my direction. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Who is this itty bitty bitch speaking to? “Watch your mouth slut before I fuck it,” I responded with a sly grin plastered on my face.

“I think you had enough fuckin’ in prison, fag.” She muttered, turning her head in the other direction. Chase didn’t allow me to spit another comeback at her but he managed to yanked me out of the bedroom and down the hall.

Not sure if I was surprised or aroused that a woman had enough balls to come at me. I took a glance at Chase and chuckled. “Yo, she’s just tired. She not really that snappy, bro,” He laughed too.

#lol this ended weird.#i know.#chris brown #chris brown fanfic #cassie #cassie ventura #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #cassie ventura fic #fiction #yes they're twins #team breezy #chris brown ff #cassie ventura ff

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