i'm so sorry your life was a double life of lies

This is all he’ll ever know of Gemma’s life before she came to Andromeda: the contents of a footlocker and the memories she and her brother share.

Jaal’s been building bridges since the Initiative arrived in Andromeda, but this one may be the most vital. 

(Jaal and Scott friendship, background Jaal/Gemma; spoilers for Elaaden and the Family Secrets questline.)


Jaal is ten steps ahead before he realizes that Gemma has stopped walking.

“— then Sahuna said ‘That’s not actually edible,’ and Lathoul — Gemma?” He finds her staring up at Operations, wearing an expression far more suited to facing down three fiends at once than walking through the Nexus. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah,” she says, though every inch of her body clearly says nothing is all right, and nothing will be all right ever again. “Just…not looking forward to Tann’s reaction to the whole Remnant drive core thing.”

Jaal squeezes her shoulders, and tries to offer a reassuring smile. He knows, too well, the particular kind of exhaustion Gemma carries out of these meetings — he’d carry some if he could, but Tann would eject him from the office the moment he walked in.

Politely, of course, because Tann is a politician above all else and the weight of his family name has reached the Nexus — but still ejected.

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Part Two: The Watch

I LIVE. Welcome back to mediocre attempts at semi-longform fic, please don’t kill me. This is way too bad to have taken three and a half months wow.

2068 – ZÜRICH

“And you can’t work on it here?”

You rolled your eyes, but chuckled fondly, as Gabriel watched you pace back and forth across the room, packing. You threw a shirt at his head which he caught and threw back at you. Eventually, he pushed off from the doorway and walked over to you as you folded the aforementioned shirt. His arms wrapped around your midsection and he leaned in to press his face against yours, causing you to shy away from his kisses so you could focus on organizing your belongings.

“Our labs here are good, but the one in Iceland is more specially designed for this particular work.” You turned in his arms, tapping your finger to his nose. “And I’ll be able to avoid being underfoot that way.”

“You’re sure you couldn’t have picked one closer?”

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Basiccccalllly feyre babe walks down the isle and then Tamlin says I do and then feyre says I don’t and then my precious little dark cinnamon roll Rhys appearsss and is like feyre darrrrrrrlinggg

The gardens of the Spring Court manor were swarming with people; Feyre could barely see a single patch of grass below the immense mass of the crowd. It reminded her of the leering crowds of under the mountain. No, she whispered to herself, this is different- this time I have a choice. Nonetheless, the creeping reminder of those who had tortured her mercilessly with their sneers and snide comments stuck with her. What didn’t help was, though the majority of the fae were behaving pleasantly, there were a small handful who had drunk a few too many glasses and were being significantly loud.
Feyre grimaced at them from behind the double doors of the manor. She could make it through today, she could endure; she could be the perfect bride for an imperfect man if it meant the safety of her true family; she would beat her demons and she would ignore her leering onlookers.
“Alright then. Are you ready to marry the love of your life?” Ianthe cheered from behind her. “Come on now! Get away from the door and at least look happy” Her hand gripped Feyre’s shoulder harshly and spun her around. Feyre plastered on a big grin. Honestly, it was a wonder Ianthe didn’t see through the blatant act.
“This is the best day of my life” Feyre lied in a monotone voice.
“That’s the spirit,” Ianthe responded, again, not noticing the act “well I have to go and organise last minute arrangements, so you just wait here. Lucien will be down in a moment.” Without another word, the priestess trailed off.
Feyre began to pace in front of the doors, her thoughts swirling around her head. Before long, Lucien appeared by her side. He simply glanced at her and then looked off out into the gardens, where people had already begun to take their seats.
“Tamlin wanted me to tell you before the wedding that he made sure there would be no red flowers” he whispered quietly, whilst still staring off into the gardens.
“Thank you Lucien” Feyre murmured, in a voice barely audible to anyone except him.
“I don’t trust you”
“I think you do,” she paused “I think you trust me more than anyone else in this goddamn court.”
He sucked in a breath at her undisguised words.
“How dare you-” he started just as Ianthe came into the room and declared, “It’s time!”
He gave Feyre one last hard look before pushing open the double doors.
Everybody quieted.
The bridal music began its tune as Lucien held Feyre’s arm and led her down the aisle.
The people of the crowd looked on in awe at their High Lord’s soon-to-be wife.
Soon, she whispered to herself, soon.
She reached the end of the aisle and stood by Tamlin’s side, who looked at her with a skeptical expression.
The boring part of the ceremony passed in a blur; the priestess (whom Feyre did not recognise) said her piece whilst Tamlin held Feyre’s hands and faced her.

After a long while of holding a saccharine smile and waiting for the end of the conditions of a High Lord’s consort speech, Feyre stirred with excitement as the real part of the event was about to happen.
“Do you, High Lord Tamlin of the Spring Court, take Feyre Archeron to be your lawfully wedded consort and wife?”
“I do”
Many of the crowd squealed in joy.
“And do you, Feyre Archeron, take High Lord Tamlin of the Spring Court to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
Feyre paused, taking a deep breath, and preparing herself for what she was about to do.
She looked at Tamlin, who eagerly waited upon her answer.
“I don’t”
And then all hell broke out.


“My dear Spring Court citizens!” A dramatic, deep voice thundered from a cloud of smoke that appeared by the doors of the manor. The scent of citrus and jasmine filled Feyre’s nose; the scent of her freedom.
“What is this madness?” She heard Tamlin bellow from beside her.
High Lord Rhysand of the Night Court turned his head slightly towards the pitiful High Lord of Spring and pursued his dramatic entrance.
“Ah Tamlin! It appears you have intentions to marry my wonderfully spectacular wife. I do understand Feyre is quite a darling, but I’m fairly sure she doesn’t require two high Lord husbands to give her power. After all, she has managed to become High Lady of the Night Court through her own powers and not through marrying you.”
Feyre felt a smirk creep into face just as Tamlin gasped, and his face darkened.
“How dare you come into my land and interrupt my wedding with these - these - these filthy lies. There is no such thing as High Lady and your obsession with my consort is sick!”
“Oh but I am not your consort.” Feyre said quietly. Tamlin moved to nod, as if he had been expecting her to support him, but then paused, fully processing what she has just said. He turned around to her slowly, betrayal sharp in his eyes, along with the rest of the guests.
“You. All this time.” Not a question, but an accusation.
Feyre’s smirk grew as she stepped off the dais and back down the isle to where her mate stood. Standing beside Rhys, she scanned her eyes over the spring court and said to no one in particular, “I am Feyre Archeron, High Lady of the Night Court, Cursebreaker, Defender of the Rainbow, the mate and wife of High Lord Rhysand of the Night Court, and I am most definitely,” she paused and stared straight into Tamlin’s eyes “not your consort.”

I’m really late again this time, I’m sorry, I’ve just been buried in work and didn’t have any time for Tumblr :( So here’s my Sterek Fic Rec List #11! The fics with * are my favourites, btw!

If you want to see more of my recommendations, visit my fic rec page or my bookmarks!

* Play Crack the Sky by Derbobbs | 122797 words | M

Excerpt from “Hale Pulls the Plug on the Future of Rock,” Rolling Stone, Issue 1203 – Oct. 2014 “Fans and music industry vets alike are left reeling in the wake of bassist Derek Hale’s sudden departure from Smokes for Harris. At a time when the foursome from Beacon Hills, California seems to be on the cusp of rock superstardom after just one double platinum record, Smokes has everything to lose.”

Excerpt from “Smokes for Harris: Gladiator,” SPIN.com – Feb. 2015 “Smokes for Harris gives in a little to the pop punk of yesteryear in their sophomore effort, but rather than pandering to fans of a lost era they elevate the genre in a way that hasn’t been seen in quite some time. Frontman Stiles Stilinski works double duty as singer and primary songwriter and proves that he can handle the task even without former bassist Derek Hale.“

* if you’re not here to turn the lights off by losingmyangelgrace | 7234 words | E

“Honey! I’m home!” Stiles shouted into the empty apartment as he moved quickly through to the kitchen, dumping his backpack onto bench before crossing to the fridge and crossing off another day on the calendar. A month and a half. That was how long was left until Derek came home, until he was safe. Everyday felt like a lifetime to Stiles.

Hello, Heartbreaker by astoryaboutwar | 18472 words | E

It’s a popular joke among Alphas: fuck an Omega, get heartbreak on your hands. Omegas are fragile little emotional things, needy and whiny. Stiles refuses to become that, or to believe that he’s anything like that.

Stiles and Derek have been fuckbuddies for a while when Derek loses his memories of the past three years - and them - in an accident.

* with metal on our tongues (we’ll be dressed in rags) by Rena | 18848 words | E

Double-oh agents are a piece of work; Stiles knew that before he became MI6’s new quartermaster. It’s cool, he survived Lydia in college, he can deal with stubborn, reckless, trigger-happy operatives. Derek Hale, though, is definitely trying to live up to his predecessor’s legacy and make Stiles’ life more difficult.

Wheatgrass and Froot Loops by WhoNatural | 6885 words | T

"You’re falling for him,” she says, and it’s not a question. Stiles looks up, blinks, and shakes his head.
“No,” he lies. “We work out, have really intense sex, and then eat cereal marketed for children. We have a system, okay? Why upset the arrangement?”

all we are by trilliastra | 1422 words | G

Stiles makes fun of them all the time, says it feels weird knowing that his dad and his boyfriend share secrets about him, but Derek can see right through his lie.

“Yeah.” Derek says distractedly, playing with the bottle in his hand. “I want to marry him.” He blurts out.

John freezes, eyes widening in surprise as he places his bottle on the table carefully.

whatever you want (but you’re gonna have to ask me) by HalfFizzbin | 3143 words | E

Stiles has a fantastic boyfriend and absolutely no sex life. He is not okay with this. (Or, the implementation of Stiles’ Secret Seduction Plan™)

Out of Stock by alisaj | 16032 words | T

In which Stiles and Derek pine for each other across the dairy aisle.

* Time Is Numbered By Days by secondstar | 7646 words | E

It’s been fifty four days.

I’ve read soooooo many more cool fics in November and the start of December, so there’ll be two fic rec lists before the end of the year - one on Christmas Eve and one on the 31st! I’m not sure if I’ll continue making rec lists next year, but I’ll figure it out once the year’s over! Bye, lovelies <3