#Alexander needs to be an unknown

[jeannereames]

Hello Dr. Reames, I was just curious, what actor(s) are your fancast for Alexander? Because I've seen some people recommend Mike Faist (with blond hair) and Zane Phillips. While I like Mike's look, he doesn't (imo) have the right voice for Alexander, whereas I think Zane does, even if he doesn't necessarily look like what Alexander probably would've looked like. I'm curious to hear what you think of these suggestions lol.

Periodically, this question comes up.

Mostly, my opinion is that whoever is cast as Alexander should be an unknown, not unlike what Netflix did with Buck Braithwaite. He wasn’t a complete unknown, but not widely recognizable. Their Hephaistion (Will Stevens) was even less known. For that matter, once upon a time, William Shatner wasn’t known when he played Alexander in a never-aired TV pilot, or Richard Burton when he took the role in the 1956 film. Both gained fame later.

The problem in casting an actor who’s already known is that he brings baggage from his prior roles. It becomes hard to see him as Alexander, rather than ___ playing Alexander. He also needs to be young. Everyone heretofore cast (Shatner, Burton, Farrell, and Braithwaite, York) were TOO OLD. Alexander died at 32 and was only 22 when he invaded. Zane Phillips would have the same problem.

Again, I’d prefer somebody (mostly) unknown and in his early 20s.

With charisma in SPADES.

Charisma is more important than a particular look, or voice. I didn’t hate Braithwaite, but I was not fond of Farrell—and even less of Jared Leto as Hephaistion. Farrell is a good actor, but I think better in more intimate, intense roles (like Phonebooth). He could not carry Alexander. Richard Burton was too wooden, but that was somewhat the style of the times. Tom York (The History Channel) was also a bit wooden, and he doesn't have the same excuse. Shatner came closest in bravado and carriage (and he was shortish and muscular too).

Yet we really need somebody the likes of Peter O’Toole. The power he brought to Lawrence of Arabia or A Lion in Winter (Henry II) would have made a good Alexander. But again, it would be hard to see Alexander, not O’Toole-as-Alexander, at least once he’d gained his fame. (And… too old.)

A while back I did say I’d finally seen an actor who, were he younger, I could see as Alexander: Austin Butler. After I saw him play Elvis, I knew he could pull off Alexander.

But again—and even with his baby-face—he’s just too old. He’s now older than Alexander ever lived to be. Even if someone were to magically have a script and funding to start tomorrow, it’d be a reach, and more so by the time anyone would be interested in trying Alexander again.

So once more … just find somebody not previously known, in his early 20s (so he can convincingly play late teens…which neither Farrell nor Braithwaite could do), and who LIGHTS up a soundstage just by walking onto it—like Butler or O’Toole. Sheer brash carriage. A boyish face, shorter stature, and muscular build would be plusses.

Once upon a time, when Baz Luhrman was still in the race against Stone to make an Alexander film, he had Matt Damon tagged for Alexander at one point. Damon could do it too, but even then, he was too well-known. Now too well-known and far too old. But in his Good Will Hunting or Talented Mr. Ripley days, he’d have been a decent choice, imo. I’m curious how he’ll do as Odysseus, although Ralph Fiennes OWNED that role in The Return.

But the problem has always been producers looking for a star to play Alexander, instead of looking for stars to populate the cast around Alexander (and Hephaistion).

[froginmygarden]

Got a little brain worm on the way home and have a need to write it down. Just a drabble because I'm not good at writing.

DC x DP Just a (clone) couple

Joung Adult!Team Phantom for some reason end up in the DC universe. For reasons, there aren't any equivalents of them here. Danny and Sam are together and Danny and Dani have a familiar relationship. Whatever the reasons they stay in this universe.

So Sam, Danny and Dani start making a life together as a family, Tucker goes on to make a "small business" involving VPN's and tech in general (finds an anthropomorphic girlfriend on the way or something), Jazz goes to uni (JL members city of choice, although I advise against Gotham or Metropolis, because that would make this too short).

For some MORE reasons unknown, although they might be by the making of our favourite clock-man, the DP people's DNA has by default markings of being clones in DC (I don't know if this is canon or fanon but Connor had something like that ╮⁠(⁠＾⁠▽⁠＾⁠)⁠╭). The thing is here Jack = Bruce, Maddy = Alexander and Jeremy = Clark, Pamela = Lois! Do you see my vision here??

So *JL member from the perspective city* meets the Fenton/Manson/Nightingale?? family accidentally when they are visiting Jazz, and has a sweet deja vu moment. Some time passes and the off handedly mention it to someone in the JL.

Batman being the paranoid bastard that he is goes on to check this thing out, because he can smell the fish from a mile away. Thinks the couple are clones, gets very paranoid again and starts making plans, plans get found by his kids, kids tell the JL and friends. So starts the collective discussions of what should they do, some say that they should get rid of the clones, some others that they don't have proof for anything nefarious and shouldn't do anything at all, someone points out that they have literally showed up out of nowhere and that it is reasonable to be suspicious. And Connor is also there.

Meanwhile Team Phantom is going about their lives like normal, but with a "I know that you know" mindset, and don't really bother with hiding themselves.

In my opinion the part that has to be the most glaringly noticeable about them should be that Danny (Batman's clone apparently) should wear a lot of flannel and have a "Midwestern Nice" personality" (the stuff of legends I have only heard about in passing) and over all should resemble Clark in fashion sense. For Sam (Superman's clone apparently) the exact opposite - she can put the GOTH in Gotham.

And all JL angst/drama/confusion happens in the background as we follow Connor Kent's/Superboy's POV and him dealing with having two half siblings and the half siblings being together and them having a child and this is too much for him oooooooooo noooooooo nononoonononoonononononno what in the sweeet home Alabama whhhhhyyyyyyyy!??!

So it's like a metronome tick's between the POVs of fluffy new life/potential threat to the JL I mean the child of Bruce/Lex and child Clark/Luis having potential super-smart, super-powered (potentially evil??) children. But overall it's crack.

Maybe I'll plan it out and actually try to write it, but meanwhile you can enjoy my half-ill/fever induced brain worms and play in the brown dirt puddle I call my creative thinking.

To who ever finished reading this

Good night! ;P

[bumblesimagines]

The Beasts of The North

Request: Yes or No

Summary: When Jace travels to the North to meet with the Lord of Winterfell, he expects to meet the well-known Wolf the North. What he didn't expect was a bear residing in Winterfell as well.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, unknown age gap since (Y/N) is early to mid twenties and Cregan is mid twenties, technically not HOTD Cregan personality or appearance wise rip (inspired by Cordeliacordate on Ao3's interpretation of Cregan),

So sorry to Tom Taylor but he is not what I envision when I think of Cregan 😭 I always saw Cregan looking more like Roman Reigns or Alexander Dreymon as Uhtred

~~~

By the time the sun began to rise, Winterfell had already come alive with the hustle and bustle of servants, residents, and villagers coming and going as they began their routines. The mixture of chatter, laughter, occasional yipping of a dog, and the sound of birds singing and squawking floated through the cracked open window, reaching the ears of the two men lying beneath bundles of furs and blankets to keep them warm from the cold. 

"Cregan," (Y/N) sighed, sleep oozing out of him ever so slowly. The bed just felt oh so comfortable and heavenly, enticing him to sleep for a few more hours. There was much to be done, though, and he couldn't allow himself nor Cregan to forget lest they risked an earful from Sara. "The princeling will likely arrive today." 

"Aye," Came the gruff, sleepy response from the lord, his strong arms still coiled tightly around (Y/N) and showing no signs of releasing him so they could both begin their day. Instead of climbing out of bed and preparing himself for the day ahead, Cregan pulled (Y/N) closer to his chest and nuzzled his face against the back of his neck, the fuzz of his beard scratching and tickling him.

(Y/N) pushed his cheek into the soft silk of the pillow beneath his head, savoring the feeling for a moment before he forced himself to sit up and detach from Cregan. One of the furs slipped downward from his chest, exposing his skin to the coldness of the room, though (Y/N) had grown acclimated to the harsh temperature of the North. Cregan made a low rumbling noise of discontentment, his hands blindly searching for his lover but (Y/N) slipped out of bed before Cregan could wrangle him back into his embrace. 

"We wouldn't wish to leave a bad impression on the princeling, would we, Cregan?" (Y/N) spoke teasingly, echoing back the words Sara had told them when they received word of Prince Jacaerys intent to fly out to Winterfell on his dragon. Neither of them were fools, however, and they'd rapidly pieced together the reason why when they received word of the boy prince's uncle, Aegon Targaryen, being crowned in King's Landing over Rhaenyra Targaryen. War was brewing, and both sides needed an army before it could spill over. 

"Mm," Cregan responded, grunting softly as he pushed himself up against the headboard, the wood creaking beneath the weight of his sturdy back. His black hair had loosened free from the bun he'd wrapped it in before bed, resting and brushing over his shoulders in a mess of bedhair he'd have to brush before they broke their fast. His gray eyes watched him, lingering on (Y/N)'s nether regions with a curl of his lips until they were covered up by pants. "Starks never forget their oaths. We hardly need to be reminded of 'em."

"I detest the idea of a royal guest as much as you do, Cregan, especially one raised to believe in the Seven." (Y/N) reminded him, the warmth of the stone floor digging into the bottom of his feet as he crossed the room to close the window, finding himself thankful for whichever Stark had the idea of building the Great Keep over natural hot springs. Through the window frost, he could see those walking around below, preparing for the feast that'd be held in honor of their guest. "But supporting the boy and his mother would be better than supporting the Hightower lot." 

"The boy," Cregan echoed and chuckled breathily, his fingers scratching at his chin before he tugged the furs and blankets off himself and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He rose with a heavy, still exhausted sigh and approached him, an arm wrapping around his shoulder and lips pressing against his temple. "You're hardly much older than him, I hear. Besides, you were once new to Winterfell. Perhaps you can help him get accustomed to how things are around here." 

"What if he's a spoiled brat and I cannot stand to be around him?" (Y/N) groaned softly at the thought and rolled his head back to rest it on Cregan's shoulder. Cregan smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek next, his palm lightly squeezing his shoulder before his thumb rubbed into the exposed skin soothingly. (Y/N)'s eyes flickered away from the roof to study the side of his lover's face. "Or what if I like him enough to entice him into bed, hm? What will you do then?"

Cregan laughed heartily and spun him around to press their chests together, his hands dropping to grasp at (Y/N)'s hips and hold him still. He dipped his head and kissed him properly on the lips, swallowing the mischievous giggle that left (Y/N). He grew back with crinkled eyes and pressed his forehead against (Y/N)'s. "I doubt some little princeling will catch your eye, my darling. He'd likely be the one trying to entice you, even with that attitude of yours." 

"That attitude had you tripping over your own feet to sweep me off mine." (Y/N) lightly jabbed his finger into Cregan's chest, feeling the lord's body shake with another laugh. Cregan didn't bother to deny his words and instead pecked the bridge of his nose, rubbing his hands into (Y/N) hips before pulling away to finally get dressed. 

Following suit, (Y/N) collected the rest of his clothes off the floor and slipped out of Cregan's bedchambers into his own across the hall, discarding the old clothes on the bed and greeting the maids that fluttered in to help him get dressed. The wool fabric pressed and dragged against his skin, the layers of clothing warming his chilly skin in a matter of minutes. By the time he finished, Cregan had dressed too, and together they headed down the hall and down a set of stairs. 

"Good morrow, you two." Sara greeted them from her spot by the table and casted them a glance over her shoulder, little Rickon fastened to her hip with two fingers in his mouth. His big brown eyes turned toward them and brightened, a wide smile breaking out on his chubby face at the mere sight of his father. He looked so much like his mother, Lady Arra Norrey, in certain lights, especially in his gleeful moments.

"Hello, my little pup." Cregan greeted softly when he scooped his young son into his arms, nuzzling his nose into the boy's belly just to hear him crack up with laughter. He freely slumped against Cregan's chest and (Y/N) pressed a fleeting kiss to his small temple, a smile tugging at his lips when Rickon giggled in response. 

"Prince Jacaerys should be arriving soon." Sara reminded them like a mother would her children, turning away once she finished her conversation with two servants to face them. Despite her status as a bastard, Sara took care of things around Winterfell just as much as Cregan and (Y/N) did, perhaps more than them. Her pale blue eyes, nearly the same shade of gray as Cregan's, flickered between the two lovers. "His room will be beside (Y/N)'s. I do hope you'll behave yourselves." 

Their smirks only made her roll her eyes and heave a sigh, her hands smoothing out the bottom of her dress as she sat beside them at the table. (Y/N) dug into his breakfast with eagerness, the subtle ache in his stomach disappearing with each gulp of food and juice until his plate was clean. He dapped at his lips with his handkerchief before brushing the crumbs from Rickon's chin, his eyes softening and a gentle smile spreading across his face. Cregan swooped in to kiss the top of his head, an act those around them hardly batted an eye at. 

"My Lord, My Lady, Ser" Maester Orwen called out when he entered the room, dipping his head in respect and greeting. He shuffled closer to them, his hand brushing over Rickon's head affectionately. "There have been reports of a dragon not far from here, My Lord. It appears our guest will soon be arriving." 

"Thank you, Maester Orwen." Cregan sighed and stood from the table, handing Rickon off to his sister with a kiss to the boy's temple before he motioned with a nod for (Y/N) to come along to greet their new royal guest. (Y/N) grimly realized he never bothered asking for how long the prince would be staying with them and gave a heavy sigh.

Maester Orwen followed the two men out into the chilly morning air, the snow crunching beneath their boots and their heads angled toward the gates. (Y/N) knew very little of Prince Jacaerys apart from the rumors circulating his parentage and the fact he was to be his mother's heir as the eldest son, despite the possibility of being a bastard.

An unfamiliar shriek echoed through the air above them and he tilted his head upward to watch the shadow of a dragon pass overhead in awe. It dipped downward toward the ground beyond the walls around Winterfell, the alarmed shouts of villagers quieting with reassuring calls from the guards around. 

The gates soon parted, a lonesome figure stepping through and making his way toward them. (Y/N) had an image in his head of what the Prince would look like; silver-haired, purple eyes, boyish features, and a snobby attitude known to royals and most nobles. That image promptly shattered when Prince Jacaerys stopped before them. His hair, (Y/N) noted, was a chestnut brown color as were his eyes, two notable Targaryen and Velaryon traits he lacked. He was lanky and still appeared boyish due to his age but his features were hardened and eyes determined. No amount of determination, however, would cover up the trembling of his body. His clothes lacked a layer or two to keep him fully warm from the cold.

"Prince Jacaerys Velaryon," Maester Orwen greeted and bowed, offering him a friendly and welcoming smile despite the glances and disinterest of those around him. A small smile appeared on Prince Jacaerys face, giving a slight dip of his head in greeting before looking back at Cregan and then at (Y/N). He paled a little at the sight of them, despite his reddened face from the cold insistently nipping at it. "May I introduce the Wolf of the North, Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell, and our trusted master-at-arms, Ser (Y/N) Mormont of Bear Island. I am Maester Orwen, here for whatever you may require."

"Welcome to Winterfell, Prince Jacaerys," Cregan spoke, voice devoid of most emotions and face largely stoic. (Y/N)'s lips curled at the way Prince Jacaerys adams apple bobbed nervously. His lover was an imposing man, he knew that well. Naturally tall and burly with a piercing stare that sent shivers down even the most hardened of knights. What had most men cowering only made (Y/N) swoon. 

"T-Thank you, Lord Cregan." Prince Jacaerys cleared his throat. "It is a pleasure to meet the both of you. I am here, as you must know, on my mother's behalf-"

"Speaking of politics already?" (Y/N)'s head lolled to the side and Prince Jacaerys eyes flickered back to him, his cracked lips parting and closing. Cregan's features morphed, his lips tugging into a grin and eyes crinkling with amusement as he turned to eye (Y/N). "Straight to the point type of lad, aren't you?"

"What Ser (Y/N) means to ask-" Maester Orwen sent him a swift scolding glare. "-is if you require anything, My Prince. We could have a meal or hot bath readied for you, if you'd like to rest after a long... flight." 

Prince Jacaerys lips pressed together, uncertainty written on his face but he looked away when (Y/N) arched a brow at him. "A hot bath sounds lovely, thank you. I, uhm-" He swiped his tongue over his lips and shuffled his feet, his composure rapidly disappearing the moment Maester Orwen stepped away to instruct some servants. "As I was saying, I am here as my mother's envoy to garner support for her cause and claim. Many years ago-" 

"My father, Lord Rickon Stark bent the knee and accepted Rhaenyra Targaryen as the heir to the Iron Throne." Cregan finished for him and spared a glance over his shoulder before he turned to (Y/N), his eyes shimmering with amusement. His hand came to rest along (Y/N)'s midback and (Y/N)'s eyes narrowed. "My love," (Y/N) swore he heard the prince choke quietly on his spit. "Since Prince Jacaerys will be residing in the room next to yours, you should show him the way." 

"There are servants for that, Cregan." (Y/N) squinted at him, the mischief on his face clear as day. "I have squires and wards to train, not to mention-"

"All that can wait for the Prince, can it not?" Bastard.

A brief cheeky grin graced Cregan's handsome features and he leaned in to kiss the area between (Y/N)'s eyebrows, giving his back a pat and nodding to the startled prince before he turned and marched further across the yard to tend to his own duties. (Y/N) watched him go with pursed lips, making a note to himself to get back at him for it later.

"I-"

"Come." (Y/N) ordered sharply, momentarily forgetting the young man before him was royalty and not another clumsy boy he had to shape up. Prince Jacaerys hardly seemed to notice, nearly slipping on the icy stone as his legs quickly moved to follow him into the castle.

(Y/N) led him through the hallways until they returned to the Great Hall, coming to a stop beside Sara and Rickon once more. "Your brother's the worst." He muttered quietly in her ear, earning a soft snort before he turned to the prince. "Prince Jacaerys, this is Sara Snow, Cregan's Stark half-sister. This little lad is Rickon Stark, Cregan's son." 

"Ah," Prince Jacaerys dipped his head in greeting and Sara curtsied as best she could with her nephew in her arms. A wide smile spread across his lips as he took in Rickon, lifting his finger toward the boy and chuckling softly when Rickon wrapped his little fingers around it. "Pleasure to meet you both," Rickon answered in an incoherent babble. 

"I suppose I should show you around since Cregan is..." (Y/N) almost sighed. "Busy."

With Prince Jacaerys proving to be rather obedient and quiet, (Y/N) had little trouble leading him around the castle and showing him the different rooms, halls, and towers connected to it. The prince only piped up to ask questions, mostly regarding the history of Winterfell or about a member of the Stark family until they reached the hall leading to the bedchambers and pushed the door open to Prince Jacaerys temporary room. 

"The bath has already been drawn, Prince, and the belongings you sent ahead have been put away. If you require something and cannot locate anyone else, my bedchambers are to your left and Cregan's bedchambers are across." (Y/N) told him, eyeing the tempting steaming bath before turning to look at the prince. He studied his surroundings curiously. "Is there anything you need as of right now? I have fools to train."

"Are-" Prince Jacaerys cleared his throat once more. "Forgive me if I am overstepping but... are you and Lord Cregan..." He trailed off, the light red color returning to his skin and eyes jumping away from him.

"The Old Gods care not if you lie with someone of the same sex or love them, Prince. I'm sure as a child of the Seven you've been taught differently, but we followers of the Old Gods do not hold the same values." (Y/N) explained simply, watching the prince slowly nod. "Cregan and I are lovers, and if that bothers you, I suggest you deal with it for the duration of your stay." 

"It- It doesn't bother me," Prince Jacaerys assured quickly.

"Good." (Y/N)'s lips dragged into a small smirk. "Welcome to Winterfell, then." 

[aphroditelovesu]

Letters from Olympias

❝commission: this is more abstract idea, but I'd be interested to see something with a 'letters to and from Olympias' theme. I've always wondered how Alexander broke the news of his marriage to y/n to his mother and how she reacted. The same goes for the birth of the twins. — requested by 💻 anon.

❝ 📜 — lady l: obviously there is a jump between letters, since events are yet to occur and writing a letter to them would be a big spoiler, but I focused on the ones that were mentioned in the story and at the birth! I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! I tried to leave as much of the personality that I imagine Olympias to be as possible. :)

❝tw: none.

❝word count: 2,052.

Letter from Olympias to Alexander after the attack on Cleitus and the news of the choice of bride:

"My dearest Alexander,

I hope these words find you in health and strength, even though my heart is restless as I write them. I have received news that has left me torn between concern and the need to advise you as a mother and as someone who has always longed to see your glory untouched.

I have learned that in a moment of anger you nearly killed Cleitus, a man who was loyal to you in so many battles and whose heart, though critical, was always devoted to your cause. Alexander, the greatness of a king is not measured only by his victories on the battlefield, but also by his ability to govern himself. Anger, when left unchecked, can be more destructive than the sharpest of enemies. I was relieved to learn that he survived, for I had feared the impact it would have on your heart and the loyalty of your soldiers if the gods did not favor Cleitus's recovery.

I also heard about your choice of bride, (Y/N), a woman whose origins are unknown to me and my sources in the camp. I confess that I was greatly surprised, not by the idea of ​​a marriage, but by the fact that such an important decision was made without me, your mother, even being informed. Alexander, you know that I have always wanted the best for you, and as your mother, I have the right to understand the choices that shape your future and the future of our empire.

(Y/N) may be beautiful, she may be kind, but a King's marriage is not just a matter of personal affection. It is an alliance, a strategy, a decision that echoes beyond your life. Does she understand the weight of your crown? Will she be able to walk by your side without her presence weakening the image the world has of you?

I do not say this to belittle your feelings or your choice, but to remind you that a king’s destiny is never his alone. You are Alexander, undefeated in battle, my son, and your every step is watched by your men, your allies, and your enemies.

I ask you, my son, to reflect on your actions and choices. Do not allow passion or pride to distance you from those who love you and want the best for you. And above all, remember that your strength lies not only in your sword, but also in your wisdom and your ability to listen.

Whatever your decision, Alexander, I am your mother and will always be your ally. But please do not exclude me from your life. My concern is not only for the throne, but for you, my beloved son, who carries the world on your shoulders.

With love and concern, Olympias."

Letter from Olympias to Alexander after the wedding had already taken place:

"My beloved Alexander,

I received the news of your marriage to (Y/N), and my heart is filled with feelings that conflict with each other. As a mother, I cannot ignore the joy of knowing that you have found someone worthy of sharing your days. But as Queen and guardian of your lineage, I cannot help but express my surprise and concern at the way in which this union took place.

You are Alexander, my son, the conqueror of nations, the son of a god — and yet you chose to walk such a crucial path without even consulting your mother, who has always been by your side, guiding you, protecting you, and celebrating your victories. The absence of a word from you about this decision hurts me deeply, for I am not only your mother, but also someone who shares the weight of your burdens and responsibilities.

About (Y/N), I know nothing beyond what I have heard: that she appeared unexpectedly and won your heart. Who is this woman who now bears the title of your wife, your Queen, and by extension, such an important role in the destiny of our empire? What alliances does she bring with her? What strengths or weaknesses does she bring to your court? Will she replace me? No, how foolish of me to think so, no one could ever replace me in your life.

I do not doubt your ability to judge people, but, Alexander, a royal marriage is not just an act of love; it is a declaration to the world. It is a promise of stability, of strength, of strategy. What will your men say, who follow you for glory and the promise of a great future? What will the kings and generals say who watch you, waiting for any sign of weakness to rise up against you?

If (Y/N) is your choice, then so be it. As your mother, I will wish nothing less than happiness for you. But, Alexander, the happiness of a King is not the same as that of a common man. Your happiness must be aligned with the good of your empire, the future of your dynasty, and the preservation of your glory.

I ask that you allow me to meet your wife, so that I can understand what inspired you to make such a decision in (Y/N). I want to believe that she is worthy of you, not only as a man, but as the greatest of kings.

And, my son, always remember that I am here, as I have always been, to support you, to advise you and to love you, even when we disagree. You are my greatest work, my greatest pride and, above all, my son.

With eternal love, Your mother, Olympias."

Letter from Olympia to Alexander after (Y/N)'s disappearance:

"My beloved Alexander,

The news that has reached my ears about your wife's disappearance has filled me with concern, both for you and for the impact that this situation may have on your heart and your kingdom.

I can imagine the pain and uneasiness that you must be feeling. I know that, despite my initial reluctance to accept your choice, (Y/N) has become part of your life, and her absence must be a difficult blow to bear. As a mother, my heart goes out to you, but as a Queen, I feel obliged to speak frankly.

Your wife's disappearance is not only a personal tragedy; it is also an event that reverberates throughout your court and throughout your empire. Your allies will question your strength, your enemies may see it as an opportunity, and the people, always eager for stories, will create rumors that may tarnish your image.

Therefore, my son, I ask that you hold your head high and your mind clear. Your grief is legitimate, but your responsibility as King demands that you not allow it to consume you. Investigate the disappearance with all diligence, but do so with wisdom and prudence. Make sure that your search for answers does not compromise your leadership or distract you from your greater goals.

If your wife has been the victim of misfortune, may the truth be discovered and justice prevail. If there is more to it — conspiracy or betrayal — may your intellect and strength unravel the mystery and ensure that no greater harm befalls you or your kingdom.

Know that I am here to support you, as I always have been. If you need advice, resources, or strength, do not hesitate to turn to me. Even if we have disagreed in the past, my loyalty to you is unwavering.

And above all, Alexander, remember that you are the son of a god and a Queen. There is no storm you cannot weather, no shadow that can extinguish your light.

With love and devotion, Olympias."

Letter from Olympias to Alexander after the news of Perdiccas' betrayal:

"My beloved Alexander,

The news that has reached me is as serious as it is painful. Knowing that (Y/N) has been kidnapped by Perdiccas, a man you once called a friend, is a deep wound not only in your heart, but also in the honor of your empire.

I confess that I am overcome with fury and indignation. Betrayal is the most vile of crimes, even more so when it comes from someone who shared your childhood, your battles, and your trust. Perdiccas not only betrayed you as King, but he also dishonored the bonds of friendship and loyalty that once united him to you.

It does not surprise me that the Persians should be the fate of a traitor such as he. His choice to ally himself with our enemies only reinforces the nature of his treachery. But, Alexander, do not allow anger to blind you. This is a time to act with strategy and with the wisdom that made you the greatest of leaders.

Your wife is now in the hands of a man no longer worthy of your compassion. Rescuing her is more than a personal duty; it is a demonstration to the world that no one can defy Alexander and get away with it. Organize your forces, but do so cautiously. Every step must be calculated, every move decisive. And when you take her back, my son, show no mercy to your enemies.

And remember, my son, that Perdiccas's betrayal is not only an offense to you, but to all who believe in you and follow your leadership. This act of disloyalty must be met with firmness, so that it may serve as a lesson to all who dare challenge you.

Know that I am here to support you, as I have always been. If you need advice or resources, send me a word, and I will do what I can to strengthen your position. And never forget, Alexander, that your strength lies not only in your sword, but also in your ability to inspire loyalty and fear in equal measure.

May your anger be just, your strategy infallible, and your victory certain.

With love and determination, Your mother, Olympias."

Letter from Olympias to Alexander after the birth of the twins:

"My beloved Alexander,

Upon receiving the news of the birth of your children, my grandchildren, my heart overflows with joy and pride. Cyrus and Aella — such strong names, so full of meaning and destiny — are now part of our lineage, bringing hope and continuity to your legacy.

Know that this is a moment that marks not only your life, but the history of your entire empire. The birth of your heirs symbolizes the promise of a great future and the perpetuation of what you have achieved with so much effort and determination.

I can only imagine the sparkle in your eyes as you hold each of them for the first time. The responsibility you already carry as a king now multiplies, for you are not only the leader of an empire, but also the father of two souls who depend on you to guide them through this world. I know you will be as great a father as you are a king, for your heart, though often hardened by battle, is capable of loving deeply.

Cyrus, with a name that evokes the greatness of ancient kings, carries within him the strength and leadership that shaped our people. Aella, whose name evokes the winds and freedom, will bring balance, grace, and wisdom to our family. Together, these two little ones will be living proof of your strength and your love.

I want to meet my grandchildren as soon as possible. I want to hold them, look into their eyes, and see the sparks of your greatness and courage in them. I want to tell them stories of their ancestors, of your journey, and of the glories you brought into the world.

As your mother, my heart is filled with love for these children who are now part of our family. I want to know them, hold them in my arms, and offer them the protection and love that I have always given you. I also want to be by your side, helping you guide them so that they grow not only as heirs to a great empire, but as people worthy of their position and their history.

May your wife be well after bringing these two precious children into the world. Send her my blessings and my respect, for she has played a sacred role in strengthening our lineage. Despite the hardships we have faced in the past, I see now that she is destined to be an essential part of your life and our empire.

Alexandre, this is a new chapter in your life, and I know you will rise to this challenge, just as you have risen to all the others. Being a father is an honor and a responsibility that requires not only strength, but also patience, wisdom, and unconditional love. I am certain that you will be as extraordinary a father as you are a leader.

Know that I am here, ready to help in any way you need, whether as a grandmother, as a counselor, or simply as someone who loves you above all else. May Cyrus and Aella grow up surrounded by love, guided by your example, and blessed by the gods.

With all my love and pride, Your mother, Olympias."

[alexanderlightweight]

Hi, happy Wednesday 🩵

I like the idea that Alec consistently gets a bunch of death threats/attempted poisonings/etc to the point that he treats it as just another tedious part of his job. I'd love to see Magnus coming to realize this and reacting to it. Thanks!

hi happy Wednesday!!!!

i also really like this idea and while it didn't go quite how I planned I am really enjoying it in a different slightly darker and less humorous way than originally intended and I hope you like it too! <3

lumine

-

rotted at the core

Magnus is ashamed to say that he’s not sure just how many attempts he misses. It’s months into their relationship that he starts to catch on, when Alexander pauses on their way out of the Institute, sniffing the steaming cup he’d brought with him out of his office.

“Izzy make it?” Magnus guesses, knowing that while a variety of shadowhunters deliver drinks to Alec’s office like clockwork, his sister sometimes tries to surprise him.

“No, despite her disasters in the kitchen, Izzy knows her poisons.  She wouldn’t put it in my food and she’d notice if someone else had before she handled it.”

Alec says it so nonchalantly but Magnus’ ears feel as though they are ringing, gongs in his head as he preserves the cup and its contents from where Alexander was about to pour it out.

“Darling it’s evidence.” Perhaps he’s not explaining correctly, or maybe Alexander is just as in shock as he is as Alec chuckles.  To have his love poisoned in Alexander’s own Institute is beyond infuriating and shocking since as far as Magnus knows, there are no visitors.  

“Magnus, I don’t need evidence. I just need to weed out the rest of the spies.” Alexander shakes his head, reaching out to take Magnus’ hand and give his knuckles a reassuring kiss.

“What?”

“Evidence won’t do me any good right now. They’ll just get recycled back into the Idris pool of hunters and end up nurse a grudge against me. Instead, I’ll make sure to return the favor granted.”

“Who, darling?” Magnus has a feeling he knows, however he wants to hear it in truth, from his beloved.

“It’s a little game that the Clave likes to play with me.  One day, they’ll run out of fodder, or I'll run out of patience.” Alexander’s smile is so soft, his eyes just as adoring as always but with a determined glint.  A determination to survive, Magnus realizes.  Against the very organization that he serves and who in truth, gives him orders.

“So you see, the evidence isn’t needed, Magnus.” Alexander’s hand reaches to pluck the cup from the magic enveloping it and finishes pouring it out before burning the paper cup with a rune. “Because before they can make a new attempt, they’ll be dead on a mission. My Institute’s statistics can take a few hits.  Now and again.”

Magnus swallows, bile and rage an unpleasant flavor yet he manages all the same.  

The amount of assassins it would take to shake the life expectancy statistics of Alec’s Institute, it’s far too high a number.

“I was thinking breakfast for dinner,” Magnus smiles just as sweetly as he slyly plots. Champagne is perfect at getting Alexander to spill the secrets he thinks so obvious to the world around him.

Or the secrets he hides in order to mistakenly protect Magnus. Distract a tired Alexander with some berries and a flute of champagne and he’d be tipsy and in two bottles and basket of fruit within half an hour.  

Magnus would sober him up and finish feeding him after he figured out what exactly Alec was hiding from him.

There was no life in which Magnus would allow a threat to his beloved to go unknown and unpunished. 

-

i was going to have a long, sort of mock humor about murder attempts but i realized that would only work in this eldritch delight and at some point Magnus would get jealous of all these people trying to murder his man because Alec comes home like 'someone tried to kill me in an interesting way' and it would be like that's his man to lovingly and adoringly threaten, no one elses.

mostly just because in any other universe Magnus would never let himself live it down if he missed more than one semi-obvious attempt on alec's life in front of him. and he doesn't need that in his life. so it's more or less that Magnus will look back and see a picture to a puzzle he didn't know he was working on until the box the puzzle came in got thrown at his head. most attempts happen in the institute or on patrol and Magnus isn't there to see them and Alec only mentions them offhandedly.

magnus is like: do we need couples therapy? communication is key to relationships alexander. THAT MEANS YOU TELL ME WHEN YOU ARE THE TARGET OF ASSASSINATION IN YOUR WORKPLACE AND HOME

alec *literally is just so used to the clave's fuckery that he forgot to share*: ... next time I will?

magnus-next time? did he just say next time?: okay well you're living with me now so that's a temporary problem solved. don't give me that look, I can't trust you with your own life at this point what do you expect from me? *muttering to himself* next time. as if i'm going to allow there to be a 'next time'.

[lesfruitsdores]

Who are the hostages still held by Hamas?

On October 7, 2023, 253 Israelis and foreign nationals were kidnapped to Gaza by Hamas and gazan civilians. Since then, 105 were released in a prisioner exchange deal, 4 were released by Hamas and 3 were rescued.

However, 60 remain in captivity [as of 02/09/24] (4 of those were kidnapped prior to 2023). A recent investigation has concluded that more than a fifth of the hostages are dead and the fate of some other hostages remains unknown. This video explains how doctors determine which hostages are dead, based on the nature of their injury and by analyising footage and the victims' last phone calls. Additionally, during the operation in Gaza, the IDF has recovered the bodies of a few victims and returned to their families for burial.

Since I couldn't find this all in one place, I've compiled a list of: 1) hostages who are presumed alive; 2) hostaged whose death has been reported/confirmed; 3) hostages who were released or rescued. In the group of hostages presumed to be alive who haven't been released, the youngest is 1-year-old Kfir Bibas and the oldest hostage is Iraqi-born 85-year old Shlomo Mansour.

As we learn more information, I'll continue to update this post.

They need to come back home. I'm hoping for more successful rescue operations soon. Keep them in your thoughts.

Hostages still held by Hamas (presumed alive or fate unknown):

(1) (2) (3)

Abraham Eitan Mor (23)

Agam Berger (19)

Alexander (Sasha) Trupanob (28)

Alon Ohel (22)

Arbel Yehoud (28)

Ariel Bibas (4)

Ariel Cunio (26)

Avera Mengistu (37) – Has been held hostage since 2014

Avinathan Or (30)

Bar Kupershtein (22)

Bipin Joshi (23)

Daniel Gilboa (19)

David Cunio (33)

Doron Steinbrecher (30)

Edan Alexander (20)

Eitan Horn (37)

Eli Sharabi (51)

Eliya Cohen (26)

Elkana Bohbot (34)

Evytar David (23)

Gadi Moses (79)

Gali Berman (26)

Guy Gilboa-Dalal (22)

Hamzah Al-Zayadni (22)

Hisham al-Sayed (35) - Has been held hostage since 2015

Yair Horn (45)

Idan Shivi (28)

Itzhk Elgarat (68)

Karina Ariev (19)

Kfir Bibas (1)

Liri Albag (18)

Matan Angrest (21)

Matan Zangauker (24)

Maxim Herkin (35)

Naama Levy (19)

Nimrod Cohen (19)

Oded Lifshitz (83)

Ofer Kalderon (53)

Ohad Ben Ami (55)

Ohad Yahalomi (49)

Omer Neutra (22)

Omer Shem Tov (21)

Omer Wenkert (22)

Omri Miran (46)

Or Levy (33)

Rom Braslavski (19)

Romi Gonen (23)

Sagui Dekel-Chen (35)

Samuel Keith Siegel (64)

Segev Kalfon (25)

Shiri Bibas (32)

Shlomo Mansour (85)

Tal Shoham (38)

Tamir Nimrod (19)

Tsachi Idan (51)

Yagev Kirsht (34)

Yarden Bibas (34)

Yosef Al-Zayadni (53)

Yosef Ohana (23)

Ziv Berman (26)

Hostages confirmed/reported dead:

(Note: I couldn't find a report with the full list, but if you google each individual name you can find sources.)

Abraham Munder (79) - Body recovered on 20/08/24.

Alex Danzig (75) - Body recovered on 20/08/24.

Alexander Lobanov (32)

Almog Sarusi (26)

Alon Shamriz (26) – Mistakenly killed by the IDF

Amit Buskila (28) - Likely killed on Oct. 7. Body recovered on 17/05/24.

Amiram Cooper (84) - Status updated on 03/06/24.

Arye Zalmanovich (85) - Death reported by Hamas. He was forced to appear in a propaganda video.

Asaf Hamami (41)

Aviv Atzili (49)

Carmel Gat (39) - Body recovered on 31/08/24.

Chaim Peri (79) - Status updated on 03/06/24.

Daniel Oz (19) - Killed on Oct. 7. Status updated on 25/02/24

Daniel Perez (22) - Killed on Oct. 7. Status updated on 17/03/24

Dolev Yehoud (35) - Killed on Oct. 7. He was presumed to be a hostage, but his remains were found in Israel after months. Status updated on 03/06/24.

Dror Kaplun (68)

Dror Or (48) - Killed on Oct. 7. Status updated on 02/05/24.

Eden Yerushalmi (24) - Body recovered on 31/08/24.

Eden Zecharya (28)

Eitan Levy (53)

Elad Katzir (47) - Murdered by the Palestinian Islamic Jihad. His body was recovered in Khan Yunis. Status updated on 06/04/24.

Eliyahu Margalit (75)

Elyakim Libman (23) - Killed on Oct. 7. It was presumed he was a hostage because his body wasn't found, but it was later discovered his remains were accidentally buried with another victim. Status updated on 03/05/24.

Gad Haggai (73)

Guy Iluz (26)

Hadar Goldin (32) - Body held hostage since 2014

Hanan Yablonka (42) - Killed on Oct. 7. Body recovered on 24/05/24.

Hersh Goldberg-Polin (23) - Body recovered on 31/08/24.

Ilan Weiss (56)

Inbar Haiman (27)

Itay Chen (19) - Killed on Oct. 7. Status updated on 12/03/24.

Itay Svirsky (35) – Killed by Hamas in captivity. His body was shown in a propaganda video

Itzik Gelenter (58) - Likely killed on Oct. 7. Body recovered on 17/05/24.

Joshua Loitu Mollel (21) – A released video shows how he was brutally murdered by a group of men on October 7

Judy Weinstein (70)

Kiril Brodski (19)

Lior Rudaeff (61) - Killed on Oct. 7. His body was taken to Gaza. Status updated on 07/05/24.

Maya Goren (56)

Mordechai Yonathan Samerano (21) - Killed on Oct. 7. His body was taken to Gaza.

Nadav Popplewell (51) - Status updated on 03/06/24.

Nik Beizer (19)

Noa Marciano (19) – Her body was found near the Al-Shifa hospital

Michel Nisenbaum (59) - Killed on Oct. 7. Body recovered on 24/05/24.

Muhammed Alatrash (40) - Killed on Oct. 7. Status updated on 24/06/24.

Ofir Tzarfati (27)

Ofra Keider (70)

Oren Goldin (34)

Ori Danino (24) - Body recovered on 31/08/24.

Orión Hernandez (30) - Killed on Oct. 7. Body recovered on 24/05/24.

Oron Shaul (30) – Body held hostage since 2014

Ran Gvlli (24)

Ravid Katz (41)

Ron Benjamin (53) - Killed on Oct. 7 and his body was taken to Gaza. Body recovered on 18/05/24.

Ron Scherman (19)

Ronen Engel (54)

Sahar Baruch (24) – Killed by Hamas during a failed hostage rescue operation

Samer Talalka (22) – Mistakenly killed by the IDF

Shay Levinson (19)

Shani Louk (22) - Body taken to Gaza. Her body was recovered on 17/05/24.

Sonthaya Oakkharasr - Killed on Oct. 7. Body taken to Gaza. Status updated on 16/05/24.

Sudthisak Rinthalak - Killed on Oct. 7. Body taken to Gaza. Status updated on 16/05/24.

Tal Chaim (42)

Tamir Adar (38)

Tomer Ahimas (20)

Uriel Baruch (35) - Status updated on 26/03/24

Yagev Buchshtab (34)

Yair Yaakov (59) – Killed on Oct. 7. Sons and girlfriend were released. Status updated on 15/02/24.

Yehudit Weiss (65) – Her body was found near the Al-Shifa hospital

Yossi Sharabi (53) – His dead body was shown in a propaganda video

Yoram Metzer (80) - Status updated on 03/06/24.

Yotam Haim – Mistakenly killed by the IDF

Ziv Dado (36)

Released/rescued hostages:

(1) (2)

Abigail Edan, 4, American citizen

Ada Sagi, 75

Adi Shoham, 38

Adina Moshe, 72

Agam Goldstein-Almog, 17

Aisha Ziyadne, 17

Alma Avraham, 84

Alma Or, 13

Almog Meir Jan (21) - Rescued by the IDF on 08/06/24.

Amit Shani, 15

Amit Soussana, 40

Andrey Zozlov (27) - Rescued by The IDF on 08/06/24.

Anucha Angkaew

Aviv Asher, 2, German citizen

Aviva Adrienne Siegel, 62

Bancha Kongmanee, Thai national

Bilal Ziyadne, 18

Boonthom Phankhong, Thai national

Buddee Saengboon, Thai national

Chalermchai Sangkaew

Channa Peri, 79

Chen Goldstein-Almog, 48

Clara Marman, 63, Argentine citizen

Daniel Aloni, 44

Dafna Elyakim, 15

Doron Katz Asher, 34, German citizen

Ditza Heiman, 84

Emilia Aloni, 5

Emily Toni Kornberg Hand, 8

Emma Cunio, 3, Argentine citizen

Erez Calderon, 12, French citizen

Eitan Yahalomi, 12, French citizen

Ela Elyakim, 8

Fernando Marman – Rescued by the IDF

Gabriela Leimberg, 59, Argentine citizen

Gal Goldstein-Almog, 11

Gal Tarshansky, 13

Gelienor (Jimmy) Pacheco, 37, Filipino national

Hagar Brodetz, 40

Hanna Katzir, 77

Hila Rotem Shoshani, 12

Ilana Gritzewsky Kimchi, 30

Irena Tati, 73, a Russian citizen, was included on the list but released separately from the exchange deal.

Itay Regev Jerbi, 18

Juckapan Sikena

Judith Raanan, 59 [Released 22/10/23]

Kaid Farhan Alkadi (52) - Rescued by the IDF on 27/08/24.

Karina Engel-Bart, 51, Argentine citizen

Keren Munder, 54

Komkrit Chombua

Kong Saelao

Liam Or, 18

Liat Beinin Atzili, 49, American citizen

Luis Har – Rescued by the IDF

Manee Jirachart

Margalit Mozes, 78, German citizen

Maya Regev Jirbi, 21

Meirav Tal, 53

Mia Leimberg, 17, Argentine citizen

Mia Shem, 21, French citizen

Mika Engel, 18, Argentine citizen

Mongkhol Phajuabboon, Thai national

Moran Stela Yanai, 40

Natalie Raanan, 17 [Released 22/10/23]

Nattaporn Onkaew

Natthawaree Moonkan, Thai national

Naveh Shoham, 8

Nili Margalit, 41

Noa Argamani (26) - Rescued by the IDF on 08/06/24.

Noam Avigdori, 12

Noga Weiss, 18

Noam Or, 17

Noralin Babadilla, 60, born in the Philippines

Nurit Cooper [Released 24/10/23]

Ofri Brodetz, 10

Ohad Munder, 9

Or Yaakov, 16, German citizen

Ori Megidish – Rescued by the IDF

Oriya Brodetz, 4

Owat Suriyasri, 40, father of two

Ofelia Adit Roitman, 77, born in Argentina

Ofir Engel, 17, Dutch citizen

Paiboon Rattanin

Pattanayut Tonsakree

Phonsawan Pinakalo

Ra’aya Rotem, 54

Raz Ben-Ami, 56, German citizen

Rimon Kirsht Buchshtav, 36

Raz Asher, 4, German citizen

Ron Krivoi, 25, an Israeli-Russian citizen, was included on the list, although he was released separately from the exchange deal.

Ruth Munder, 78

Sahar Calderon, 16, French citizen

Santi Boonphrom, Thai national

Sapir Cohen, 29

Shani Goren, 29

Sharon Aloni-Cunio, 34, Argentine citizen

Sharon Hertzman Avigdori, 52

Shlomi Ziv (40) - Rescued by the IDF on 08/06/24.

Shiri Weiss, 53

Shoshan Haran, 67

Surin Kesungnoen

Tal Goldstein-Almog, 8

Tamar Metzger, 78

Uthai Sangnuan, Thai national

Uthai Thunsri, Thai national

Wichai Kalapat, 28, Thai national

Wichian Temthon

Withoon Phumee, 33, Thai national

Yaffa Adar, 85

Yagil Yaakov, 12, German citizen

Yahel Shoham, 3

Yarden Roman-Gat, 35, German citizen

Yelena Trupanov, 50, a Russian citizen, was included on the list but released separately from the exchange deal.

Yocheved Lifshitz [Released 24/10/23]

Yuli Cunio, 3, Argentine citizen

Yuval Brodetz, 8

Yuval Engel, 12, Argentine citizen

[not-a-big-slay]

hello neighbour

alex turner x fem!reader

summary: while your apartment complex is in a lot of ways flawed, that boy upstairs is the true opposite...

warnings: fluff, mentions of weed

part 2

a/n: i wanna bite alexander david turner (affectionate), first part of a series i hope

Your shoes were beyond damp, but the rain refused to stop. What used to be a warm summer night that talked you into meeting up with your girls, left only your now drenched tank top as evidence of its short presence. You had nothing against rainy nights, but you enjoyed them in the comfort of your bed, you really didn't like being in the centre of it all.

The keys in your hand encouraged you to move forward. It was a matter of a few steps until you arrive to your building, so you wrapped your hands around you and kept going, disturbing the quiet night with breathing and swift stomps, that also occupied your hearing. If you were being honest, you regretted not taking your friend's flask which she offered earlier, alcohol would be a fine help for your freezing state right now.

As you shivered again, your ears picked up a new set of footsteps from behind. You sighed, the last thing you needed was some creep following you home. It was probably someone else just wandering around, but who would risk it. They were fast though. Maybe it was due to the heavy rain, but it managed to creep you out, especially when they were closing in on you.

You sped up a bit, taking bigger steps. Better to be safe than sorry. Your breath fastened with the amount of extra energy you had to give and your hand tightened around keys. The building was right beside you, you just had to round the corner. Your focus stuck on the man that tirelessly followed your trail.

Finally, you took the turn and while the person was blinded by the thick corner of the complex, you fully ran towards the entrance, opened the glass door with your key in record time and, as it shut behind you, finally relaxed. You couldn't be more thankful now for the yellow invasive light that illuminated the hall and a little bit of the outside pavement. With your finger on the button, you waited for the elevator. The dry air calmed your goosebumps caused by the weather and/or the stranger. You were safe behind these walls.

Until you heard the key rustle and before you could turn around, the door opened, letting in the stalker. You froze in place and only watched as the man ran a hand over his head, revealing his soft face and wet brown hair. You panicked internally. He wasn't familiar and you definitely didn't see him around here. This building housed either seniors waiting for their last moments or men and women in their 50s who were divorced and had their shared custody children here every two weeks, and he fit none of those categories. You were the exception, this was the only apartment you could afford for now, so that didn't count.

He watched you as if he could see your thought process and smiled a little. "I know it's scary when a man follows you like that, but I live here too." he spoke, his voice strangerly comforting you. You couldn't help but smile nervously as well. "No, it's okay.." you assured him as well as yourself, because he truly looked innocent. A key in his hand matched yours, he was just trying to get home, same as you. The boy smiled and looked relieved as he saw you relax. A man with this smile wouldn't hurt a fly, he looked like a dog that heard the words 'good boy'.

"Mind if I join you?" his question followed the elevator's arrival. You nodded repeatedly, nervous about talking with a man, but adding a smile to it seemed to help the situation a bit. After asking "Which floor?" and hearing his "8th", you were off. It was the longest ride you have ever endured. What you thought was the 5th floor was actually the 2nd. Though, it did give you time to inspect the unknown neighbour.

His fluffy hair made him taller than he actually was, but your eyes would still have to aim for a higher level to connect with his browns. You weren't sure how to describe the style of the man's clothes. A classy white shirt, that was now dripping wet, complimented the formal brown pants, but it was the golden chain that caught your attention. It didn't fit him at all.

He tapped the yellow steel walls gently, even nervously, one would say. You would think there was no reason to be on edge, if the all known funny smell didn't reach your nostrils.

"We're both adults here, so we're gonna pretend the smell-"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, sir."

It's like he read your mind and you read his right back. You´ve had your own share of 'smells', so understanding the assignment came naturally.

Sealing your words with a smile made him visibly ease, you couldn't help but chuckle. "Good. Don't call me sir, though." he commented before extending his hand, a bit hesitant you noticed. Maybe he wondered if this is what people still do, shaking hands. Some would call it old fashioned already, you had to admit no one shook your hand in a while, yet you took his immediately. A natural and learnt response from your brain, you assumed.

"I'm Alex."

"Nice to meet you."

Your own name hit the elevator walls as you shook hands, smiling at one another. An awkward pause was avoided when you stopped moving and a lady's voice informed that the lift is in the 7th floor. You turned to him with a polite smile and bid him goodbye as the door slid open. Curiosity within you peaked as he mimicked every thing, including the farewell. As you slid in your apartment, the lift reached his floor, and you could hear the footsteps exiting out of it and entering their home.

What an interesting guy, you thought. A ton of questions followed you around as you got ready for bed, but each of them had the same underlying urge, though with different amounts. You adored this type of comedy TV shows, the FRIENDS, New Girl, Baby Daddy kind. The specific aesthetic of coming over to one's apartment for simply no reason, just because of the friendship, was simply comfortable and even adventurous. You two hit it off quite well, disregarding the start, of course.

You wanted to befriend him, to get to know him better.

With closed eyes, settled in bed, you let yourself dream about the yet non-existent friendship with you neighbour.

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

Music really could set a vibe, if it was combined with a cheap screw top red wine. It went well with the yellow light lamp in your living room too. A chatter mixed with choked laughs only completed this night, and what would make it even better would be finding that damn sugar to finish the dough for cookies. Your traditional cookies that go hand in hand with this traditional girls' night. They brought wine and take out, you baked cookies, it was a simple agreeement that went on for a couple of years now, once every month.

You sighed as you found another abandoned corner of another cabinet sugar-free. This was unbelieveable. Due to the busy day you had, time forced you to make cookies last minute, with your friends already standing in the doorway. They didn't mind, opposite was the truth, you always let them eat the raw leftover dough. The problem was, there would be none, if your search for that one very important ingredient was unsuccessful.

"Ah, just forget it, babe." one of your friends groaned as she saw you kneeling in front of another cabinet. "We can survive without cookies."

"I can't." a different voice chimed in, gaining a scoff from the first.

You got up, brushing off the dust from your hands. It was hopeless. You had to admit you used up all sugar you had.

"I can run to the store." suggesting that made the girls yell out a very clear "NO!" that made you smile a little. Nothing would happen if this night exceptionally didn't involve cookies, but you already mixed the other stuff together.

"Put it in a fridge."

"We can eat it raw."

"Just throw it away."

No suggestion they made sat right with you. Putting it in a fridge would do nothing, you would have to make cookies tomorrow. Eating it raw wasn't that horrible, but wasting all those ingredients on a barely mediocre snack felt like a waste. The loud music disturbed you from thinking. "Turn it down, I have old neighbours." saying this sentence, which was also traditional whenever you hung out at your place, lit a lightbulb in your head.

It was a couple of weeks since you met Alex and your eyes reminded you of him everytime they landed on the button with a big 8 on it. Maybe this was the perfect opporturnity to see him again. You ran a hand through your hair as you walked to the entrance.

"I'll just ask someone." you informed the girls, as their confused stares burned into your back. There is no separation between hallway, staircase or the elevator. Everything was 2 steps away just as you entered the dim surrounding lit by a fierce yellow light on every floor. Even though stairs and the elevator were literally next to each other, separated by walls protecting the shaft, you weren't that lazy to avoid 2 sets of stairs by taking a lift.

As you made your way up, you didn't admit to yourself the obvious, because maybe by some miracle your intuition would know behind which door Alex resigned out of the four that stood in front of you. You cursed under your breath, walking to the door on your left. Gray used-to-be-white piece of paper glued on the doorbell confessed P. Youn was the owner. Moving to the neighbour next door, no hint on the doorbell was visible, however, you immediately recognized the old lavender flipflops with cheap print of lillies that was slowly peeling off and fading. Mrs. Kuazinsky was surely sleeping already, so she would be ready for her morning task of buying out an entire bakery that sat at the ground floor of just the building before, so you moved to the last two doors.

This was the dilemma. The door right next to the lift was usually where your old neighbours chose to live, because of the layout being "bigger" than the others (it was not, but the landlord probably had as much mood for convincing old people out of their opinion as the next person), but you imagined the man being full of surprises. A shiny white tag on the doorbell of the other door disagreed though. The novelty of it went hand in hand with the fact you saw him once in the 4 years of living here. You took the risk, pressing the bell named Turner, hoping the printed word in Arial Bold belonged to the man you looked for.

Familiar face appeared before you as well as a loose black sweater covering his upper body. His eyes were tired, you could notice when he politely returned your smile, erasing the previous confusion in his wrinkles. Gray pants that wrapped around his legs was the last thing you took in, before returning to your sweet mission.

"Hey. Sorry to bother you this late..."

"No problem. What's up?"

You admired his slightly curled hair that got in his face as he raised his eyebrows, intrigued by your request. They had to be natural, you thought jealously. Men didn't deserve such natural curls, it wasn't fair.

"Half a cup of sugar?" his smile changed the tone, making you chuckle a little.

"I need it for cookies I'm making. I forgot to buy some, so you're my last hope.." It was his turn to chuckle. He let you in, though you hesitated, but waiting outside felt even more awkward. You took in his apartment. It was the same layout as the others beneath him and although the vibe was cozy, you couldn't help but question his age as the decoration was a bit old fashioned. Walls painted a beige almost brown colour and most furniture was wooden, which wasn't weird, yours was too, but these looked handmade. So he recycles, good to know...probably. Few vinyls decorated those bland walls, holding a part of his personality and intriguing yours. You saw some good ones on there.

It took a proper minute before you noticed him standing close, a cup of sugar in his hand, a smirk on his face. You had to exhale an awkward chuckle to try and avoid the embarrassment.

"Good taste. I love The Strokes.."

Your hand ran through your hair, wiping off the sudden sweat of it. Alex raised his eyebrows, definitely amused by your statement. His eyes matched perfectly with his hair, you noticed.

"You do?"

"Yeah, what's not to love?"

He immediately smiled at that, all sleepiness suddenly non-existent. And as he revealed that those albums are signed on the back, it was your turn to raise eyebrows. He quickly handed you the cup and rushed over to the wall, picking Is This It and Room On Fire so effortlessly off of it, before rushing back to you. Rarely widened eyes of yours studied every curve of Julian's signature, each letter sending excitement through you.

"This is..."

"Cool, right?" he asked with such anticipation, like a child on Christmas. It was clear he showed it off proudly, seizing every chance he could to mention it. And of course, you would fuel it up, nodding to his words rapidly.

"Goddamn, you're lucky." you giggled. The next few minutes only involved you grasping onto every word of his story about meeting Casablancas, and him grasping onto every slight reaction you gave him. A nice exchange indeed.

The cup of sugar in your hand started feeling a little heavy with the way you stood there and discussed your obsession, so you had to cut it short unfortunately.

"Umm..thank you for this, I'll repay you someday."

"Maybe you can repay me by saving me a cookie or two." he grinned slightly, leaving no other option for you than to laugh.

"Deal." you both nodded and in the next minute, you were gone. It was a nice gesture from Alex to watch you skip down the stairs, as if making sure you make it down safely. "And don't worry," a barrier made out of his voice stopped your feet just two steps away from the girls. You looked up, just barely locking with his eyes, "I can't smell anything."

Luckily, your blush would go unnoticed thanks to the handrail in the way. Calling out the words "Appreciate it!" confirmed Alex's certain guess. Sugar wouldn't be the only thing added in the batch for cookies.

He was looking forward to the leftovers even more.

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

[whencyclopedia]

Ancient Persian culture exerted a powerful influence throughout the Near East, and beyond, for over a thousand years between c. 550 BCE - 651 CE and many aspects of their culture continued to influence others afterwards and up through the present day. The first Persian polity was the Achaemenid Empire (c. 550-330 BCE) which fell to Alexander the Great and, after his death, the region was held by the Hellenic Seleucid Empire (312-63 BCE) founded by one of Alexander's generals Seleucus I Nicator (r. 305-281 BCE). Persian culture continued under the Seleucids, however, and again became dominant with the rise of the Parthian Empire (247 BCE-224 CE) and continued, at its greatest height, throughout the Sassanian Empire (224-651 CE) until the Persians were conquered by the invading Muslim Arabs. From the earliest days of the Achaemenid Empire till the last of the Sassanians, the Persians introduced a number of novel concepts in innovations and inventions which are often taken for granted today or whose origins are largely unknown. Literary motifs, the custom of daily teatime, care for dogs, refrigeration and air conditioning, and many other established aspects of daily modern life originated or were developed by the ancient Persians. The Persians held to an oral tradition of transmitting information, however, and so much of their history, until the Sassanian period, comes from others. A large part of whatever written records of the Achaemenids did exist was destroyed by Alexander when he burned the capital city of Persepolis in 330 BCE and the Parthians retained the oral tradition of their precursors and so much of Persian history was preserved by the Greeks and, later, the Romans. These writers did not always represent Persian culture accurately but provide enough information, coupled with archaeological evidence and what Persian sources remain, to recognize the power and vision of the culture and its enduring legacy. Below are ten contributions and historical facts relating to the Persians which are often overlooked or largely unknown. These are only a notable few, however, and do not begin to address the vast scope of Persian achievement.

[crackdkettle]

The article I just reblogged reminded me of something I've been thinking about while watching Smallville, which is that Lex and his father often communicate by referencing history, literature, and philosophy: Alexander the Great, Roman emperors, Greek myths, Nietzsche, Machiavelli, Shakespeare, various poets. There's an assumption of not necessarily education, but of an ability on the part of the audience to understand the reference through context, even if the reference itself is unknown, and of an intellectual curiosity that can and will look further into these subjects if a deeper understanding is needed or wanted. All this on a show that is, when you boil it down to its most bare essentials, a high school drama aimed primarily at teens.

I don't think you could do that today. I don't think the execs at the top would allow that kind of writing on a show whose target audience is primarily teens and young adults. It'd be deemed too alienating. What if the viewers are scrolling through tiktok while they're watching ("watching")? What if they're making dinner?

It's honestly kind of jarring to be reminded that television - even silly superhero shows for teens - used to treat viewers with the dignity of assumed intelligence, not like we're all just open-mouthed zombies who need to be walked through even the most basic story points.

[animalsalvationassociation]

[ DO NOT REPOST, ALL ART & CONCEPTS WERE MADE BY ME ]

Father Finlee (Full Name Unknown)

Species: Alexander Archipelago Wolf (AKA Black Wolf)

Accent: Russian

Role:

Leader of the Order of the Light

Former Slave of the Призрачный щит Fortress (AKA The Phantom Shield) Lead by the Followers of the Great леший (Leshiy)

Relations:

Mother Zinaida, Mama Izolda, Sister Tatiana, Sister Iness, Sister Jelena (His wives, who have bore him 21 children)

Joseph Hughes (Right Hand, Head of his Guard)

Saídê of the Palace (Enemy, Former Slavemate, Fellow Soldier)

Maren of the Palace (His once desired)

Y.N. Palace (Former Follower . . . Chosen one of the вознесенный)

Fale Tsuyoshi (Enemy, Target)

The Spectator (Selected Ally)

The Hatter Trio (Questionable Alliance)

Personality:

Cult? Cult.

Astute. Finlee is nothing but careful in everything he does. Every move is calculated, precise. Even as a young pup he saw things others didn’t. 

He has quite the temper but he doesn’t show it as often as he used to. He was much more brash and hard headed as a young man, and would easily throw himself in harm's way for a more “brutal” result.

(Man was a BEAST on the battlefield, I'm just saying~)

He prefers to dominate his opponents in the most humiliating way possible, but pure violence is never off the table.

Man is a PERV!!!! P. E. R. V. E. R. T.–PERVERT!!! Do NOT be alone with him!!!! I repeat, you cannot trust this man! – I understand he’s attractive, don’t do itttttttt I begggggg TvT

I don’t care if you’re happily married with two kids and a grandchild, I’m still going to FLIRT with you!!!!

(Wow that wasn’t specific at alllll)

“My dear~” in the most husky voice he can manage (Me: *bangs face into table 20 times*)

Imagine a very flirty Shere Khan (Jungle Book) . . . Yes.

. . . . masochist

How old are youuuuu????

(Answer: Ancient)

It’s called . . .  torture~

(Literally his favorite pastime.)

Somehow this man has weaseled his way into every one of my friend’s hearts. They are all followers now, I literally don’t know what to tell you. Finlee has irl followers . . . I SEE YOU GOOGLING HOW TO FIND THE COMMUNE STOP IT!!!!

Neat freak, everything must be organized.

“Pick it up!” – “Nah” – “PICK. IT. UP.” – “Well since you said it like that . . . No <3”

(The man who tested his patience was promptly murdered at the scene. – @urautismdiagnosis-wistie )

The most Russian man that has ever Russianed . . . but evil.

Torture may be his favorite hobby but revenge? That’s his passion in life.

Screw you America.

Don’t ask also . . .

I am so sorry Fae.

No you don’t get context.

I should feel bad for Y.N.

“Should” being the opportune word here . . . @calamaroo 👀

I did . . . and then I started writing the Light Arch . . . Ya’ll need to apologize.

Don't ask why just do it!

I only feel bad for them before and after this arch . . . never during . . . you guys are meannnnn

Grade A Nuisance upon every sound minded person.

Oh you weren’t insane BEFORE you met him?

WeLl YoU aRe NoW!!!!!!!

For some reason his main wife, Mother Zinaida, is literally the only person he actually treats with equal respect. THIS MAN LOST AN EYE FOR HER!!! (Sure she lost an arm but it’s the thought that counts . . . right?)

TREATS 👏 HER 👏 Right 👏 . . . we are still trying to figure out if the other wives get that same privilege . . . *shrug*

Finlee has been around for a VERY long time. He knows what he’s doing. That being said, if you’re on his list (whichever one that may be) he already knows everything about you, down to your daily routine.

He knows your favorite food, your fav. picnic spot, where you keep your grandmother’s diadem, even your mother’s elementary boy crush.

It’s too late for you.

Finlee has his ways.

I promise, you do NOT trust himmmmm!!!

DON’T FALL FOR HIS HOTNESSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!

TwT

Listen at your own risk . . .

Welcome home my dear~

[ This is a Octonauts AU, in no way is this canon to the OG storyline. ]

[emdoesstufff]

So these are my aesthetic boards for my version of the MCU young avengers (which making those is apparently my thing now lol). It's sort of an AU, but it's also part of the plan in my head for the MCU for the next like ten to fifteen years (don't judge me, I'm crazy). If you don't like any of these, please remember that these are just my opinions before you leave any rude comments. I would still love to hear anyone else's thoughts and opinions though!

Elijah Bradley - Patriot (22)

Harley Keener - Iron Lad (25)

Kate Bishop - Hawkeye (24)

Kamala Khan - Ms. Marvel (18)

Cassie Lang - Stature (21)

Amadeus Cho (19)

Riri Williams - Ironheart (23)

America Chavez - Miss America (18)

Charles Alexander "Alex" [last name unknown] (original character) - Winter Soldier/no alias (11) *he's not really part of the team at the moment but is later on*

Billy Maximoff - Wiccan (16) *Billy Maximoff and Billy Kaplan are two different people in my world, Billy Kaplan hasn't entered the MCU of 2026 in this*

Tommy Maximoff - Speed (16) *Same as Billy with Tommy Maximoff and Tommy Shepard being different people*

Loki/Kid Loki (19, but he is a god so...)

These are their ages as of 2026 and I tried to make them as MCU accurate as possible. Obviously they age on my little timeline. Also I know Alex's comic pictures is actually James Roger's from the comics, I just needed a photo. Also also I know the things with the twins is confusing, but it's not really that important. I can explain if someone really wants to know though.

I can also drop more info on all the characters if anyone wants that. The timeline too.

[esti11a]

Matchmakers

MATCHMAKERS PART 1

PART 2 HERE: ‘THE WRONG BROTHER’

pairing : jude bellingham x reader

summary : when the two best friend wants to play matchmaker for their single-pringle friends.

author’s note : this is actually my second (!?) story here hope you all like it!! this one is dedicated to my bestie! ( @vivileclerc love you). Kisses -L.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

liked by szoboszlaidominik and others

treantarnold66 October treated me well.

tagged : yourbestie

yourusername THAT IS MY BEST FRIEND RIGHT THERE

yourbestie Hun😘

yourusername Treat her well Alexander!!!!

trentarnold66 🫡

judebellingham 😢😢😭😭🥺🥺☹️☹️

trentarnold66 I still love you lad

fan66 WHAT IN THE FOOTBALL WORLD????

liverpool_wags_ 🤩🤩🤩

footballwags Oh woah

fan01 launched hard

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

liked by yourfriend1 and others

yourusername this is what we call ✨selfcare✨

tagged : yourbestie

yourbestie I love us😍

yourusername Me too🥰

trentarnold66 Yo wanna steal my girl?

yourusername She was mine first🧐

judebellingham Sore loser

yourusername ???

judebellingham Trent made me🤓

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

trentarnold66 3m

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

liked by judebellingham and others

yourusername I actually love brown

yourbestie And I love you

yourusername awwww

judebellingham No sh1t sherlock

yourusername shusss you watson!!!!

fan27 who are youuu?

fan66 she is Trent’s girlfriend’s best friend

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

liked by vinijr and others

judebellingham Post season started. HALA MADRID!🤍

yourusername Visca Barca y Visca Catalunya💙❤️

judebellingham can’t you shut up?

yourusername nop dop

vinijr 💪🏾💪🏾💪🏾

realmadrid Our golden boy🤍

fan39 I fainted!

fan8 finally a Jude post!!! it’s been ages

fan5 🥶🥶

fan82 destroy them all!!!

yourusername please don’t! take care about my baby pedri🙏

judebellingham what-?

yourusername you hurt him I’ll hurt your face😡

judebellingham 😐

fan82 what the hell just happend?

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

liked by yourbestie and others

yourusername we wear pink! (or nothing)💖

yourbestie GIRL- FILTER!?

yourusername What? I don’t need filter😝

yourfriend3 you need a PR training

yourusername but that’s no fun!!!

trentarnold66 @judebellingham is the only single😝

jobebellingham EVEN I GOT A GIRL!!!!

yourusername what a pretty one actually!

jobebellingham yes!!!

judebellingham Shut up!

fan92 Oh uh?

gsm_hq 🧐🧐🧐

fan5 JOBE???

fan89 that’s Jude!!!

fan5 Trent said he is single though…. And Jobe aren’t….

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

yourusername 50m

he never actually read a single word

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

liked by jobebellingham and others

yourusername bro’s and hoes

jobebellingham 😇😇😇

yourusername nyom nyom

yourfriend1 once you go black….

yourusername GIRL-

pedri Happy that you liked my invite!

yourusername Could never decline!!

judebellingham Simp.

yourusername 4-0 womp womp

fan5 she is a…. barca fan?

fan2 interesting turn

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

yourusername 9h

JB😝

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

liked by fan8 and others

gsm_hq BREAKING NEWS!!! There are pictures all around about Jude Bellingham and a brown jet unknown girl at a yacht.

fan7 so he isn’t dating @yourusername ???

gsm_hq Due to our sources no

fan3827 I don’t believe this page anymore since the last scandal

fan9 you can’t even see her hair properly wtf?

fan29383 don’t cause any more drama!

fan1 Okay? And? Some privacy?

fan5555 HE IS MINE!!!!!

fan84 but….but Jude what about the kids?

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

to be continued…..

[a-wraith-891]

A Hawthorne Mafia AU- Part 4

Tags: Jameson Hawthorne, Avery Grambs, Grayson Hawthorne, Xander Hawthorne, Nash Hawthorne, a lot of minor/ background characters.

Extra Tags: Dark Hawthorne Family.

Other Parts:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: Avery isn't sure why she's been called, she's not sure why she's there in the first place. Thirty-eight people dead. Avery doesn't want to know why she's there at all.

a/n: I went overboard with the italics, idk wtf I'm doing. It's 3 AM and it's Monday tomorrow. I hope you enjoy the fruit of my insomnia. Thank you. Also idk what I'm doing with the relationships. Again, I would like to draw your attention to the time being 3:39 AM. And the fact that I started writing at 12:24 AM. I hope I survive till my break.

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

Avery hears the voices before she gets to the backroom, as is usually the way. It's their club, after all, and there's no need for them to lower their voices. This isn't where the actual business gets done, anyway. Not the big stuff, the stuff worth overhearing. she learned that Day 2.

Jameson and Rohan—

(Rohan, last name: Unknown, 18 years old, close friend of the third eldest Hawthorne boy. Been arrested for assault three times, and twice for murder. Never went to prison bc the witnesses and accusers always mysteriously vanished before trial could begin. Expert fighter, known from his frequent fights with Jameson. Assassin? No. Hitman.)

—are currently the loudest, their laughter carrying down the hall with the music, both performers in their own right. They're probably drunk—a good majority of the people in that room are probably drunk—but she knows that not a single one of them will be nearly as drunk as they let the rest of the world believe.

Avery doesn't know where all these people, and she feels disgusted calling them anything human, learned to lie so well, but she has to admit she's impressed by their skill. She's an observant woman—she has had to be—but she's pretty sure they often get things past her. They often get things past a lot of people.

It's why they've never been caught. It's why they have so many people chasing their tails. It's why Avery has to be better than she is.

She hears someone shout something, a few words slurred, but the sentiment is something along the lines of celebration. A chorus of cheers follows the words, and Avery's lips twist sardonically; from their point of view, she supposes that they do have things to celebrate.

Avery, on the other hand? Well, the deaths of five cops and nine innocent bystanders weigh heavily on her mind and turn her stomach into knots. She doesn't care that Don Hawthorne has gained some territory from Blake, territory that Blake probably would've given him anyway because he—just like every other person in Texas with half a brain—is afraid enough of the Hawthorne family to simply do as he's told.

No, that isn't why they torched the warehouse.

That isn't why Jameson Hawthorne held up a gun and pulled the trigger again and again without hesitation, robbing a family of a husband, a wife, a son, a daughter. That isn't why Nash Hawthorne grinned down at a man begging for mercy, both of their faces splattered with blood. That isn't why Alexander Hawthorne used a machine he built to cut a man gut to throat, splitting his body practically in two and cauterizing flesh. That isn't why Grayson Hawthorne walked through the smoldering remains of a building, putting bullets in anyone who survived.

None of that was to get territory. None of that was strategic. They could justify it to the world however they wanted, but that was just because they were bored.

Five cops, nine innocent bystanders, and twenty-four people who worked for William Blake.

Avery wasn't even there for the main event, just the end, and she still barely kept herself from vomiting.

She pauses outside the door to the room, takes a moment to steady herself. It's only been five hours since she was called to the warehouse. Only five hours since she helped get rid of the remaining bodies. Only five hours since she saw in person things she'd only seen in pictures. Only five hours since the demons inside those four boys really came out to play.

At the very least, she'd been given a chance to go home, shower, change, and not eat something. Then she'd been called to their shining club, and she hadn't hesitated to go.

She doesn't have the luxury of hesitation. Not in this business. Not in her role.

She knocks on the door, waits half a second, and then enters. Automatically, her eyes scan to track everyone in the room, going first—of course—to the Hawthorne boys. Alexander , despite where he is, is the one she sees first. The fifteen-year-old is sitting in an armchair in the back corner of the room, legs folded, laptop open. There's a phone cradled between his shoulder and his ear as he types rapidly, coding probably, simultaneously holding a conversation with whoever's on the other end. There's a small grin on his face, too, looking extraordinarily pleased, and she even hears a hint of an actual laugh from the boy.

It would've been sweet, if the curl of his lips was gentle instead of sharp, if the spark in his eyes was shining instead of hard, if the laugh was melodic instead of razor wire.

She can pretend that the boy is talking to a friend about something normal, but the more likely scenario is that he's talking about the massacre he just participated in. Part of her wonders who's on the phone, and the rest of her doesn't want to know.

The next person Avery spots is Jameson. He's standing a few feet in front of a dart board, a grin splitting his face, lighting his eyes, and her stomach rolls with unease… and something more. The nineteen-year-old tends to not look like that in public, or look like that in front of anyone other than his siblings, and Avery doesn't really like seeing it; makes her feel like he's somewhere she shouldn't be, or like someone's about to get seriously hurt, but a part of her finds that she doesn't care.

(He only tends to look like that in front of his family, or when he has the barrel of a gun bearing down on someone's face.)

Some twisted part of her wants to extend a hand and trail it down his face, real in a way only he is, and despite the atrocities he has committed—atrocities she has been witness too—she feels like she can accept the man.

He has his arm around Rohan's shoulders, who's standing next to him and holding a few darts of his own, and she is sure she can hear a challenge being thrown around. She's s not surprised; Rohan's one of the few people who has never had a problem standing up to the boys, whether or not it gets him beaten black and blue.

She thinks that's why Nash and Jameson like the shooter so much. Rohan's sharp and determined and a little wild around the edges, and he's loyal. Once, he provoked Jameson into breaking his leg, and still showed up to work the next day. The three of them all acted like it was nothing, like it was another day in the life. No resentment, no babying, nothing.

It had been fascinating to watch. And definitely weird.

Next, Avery sees Grayson. The twenty-year-old is at the pool table with a few other people, leaning over it with his cue. A brown haired girl is plastered to his back, hands on his hips, and she adjust his aim slightly, causing him to look at her with exasperation. She simply laughs in reply, saying something that looks like an apology. Grayson, without taking his eyes off her face, shoots, easily making the shot with his own aim.

Grayson turns back to the table and Avery can hear the word asshole being thrown around.

(Five cops, nine innocent bystanders, twenty-four mobsters and criminals.)

It all makes Avery wonder if they do this every time they destroy lives, if they party like they've achieved something great, something gorgeous.

And frankly, she knows they're all too self-aware to actually believe that they're celebrating getting territory from Blake. She knows that they have to know they could've gotten that with no more than a threatening look. She knows that they know they're just riding high on murder, and using the territory as an excuse to celebrate.

She wonders how much Don Hawthorne supports this versus tolerates it, control freak that he is.

Last, she sees Nash. The twenty-seven-year-old is sitting on one of the couches with a beautiful girl perched in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck. She looks like she's attempting to swallow him whole, and he's grinning against her mouth. She has blue hair and is wearing a cowboy hat that resembles the ones that Nash frequents. She looks vaguely familiar, in the way her mother looks in her memories, in the way distant objects from her first life tend to look.

The girl also hurts in the way thinking about her mother does, so Avery simply stops. Maybe in a other life she knew the girl as more than just a prop in the empire, more than just another cog in the machine that spits out the worst that Texas had to offer.

Avery recognizes a majority of the other people in the room. Standing by the darts board, though farther away than Jameson and Rohan is Oren—

(John Oren, 32 years old. Personal security of Don Hawthorne. Military. Met Tobias Hawthorne I ten years ago. Has been involved in the violence caused by the Hawthorne Crime Family ever since)

By the pool table with Grayson and the girl is a woman she doesn't know—and Thea Calligaris.

(Thea Calligaris, 19 years old, daughter of the imprisoned Constantine Calligaris. It is rumoured that Don Hawthorne's grandsons brought her in last year when her father went to prison. She's a very sweet girl. Very manipulative. Very good with a blade)

"Grambs!" Jameson calls out. Avery would say that he was simply the first to spot her, but she's all too aware of the fact that the Hawthorne boys are scarily perceptive, and Jameson's just the first to acknowledge her existence, like he always is, and something in her warms at that while the other half freezes and warns her away.

"C'mon in!" He sounds drunk. He's smiling and swaying like he is. Avery refuses to let herself be lulled by that.

She walks further into the room. "Hello, Mr. Hawthorne," she says respectfully. It's weird calling someone her age Mister, but she's had four months to get used to it at this point.

No matter how many times Grayson says Oh, please, call me Gray, or Jameson says Jamie's fine, really, she knows better. It's not a real invitation. They all know the second she called them so informally (or, god forbid, called Don Hawthorne Tobias) some kind of harm would befall her person.

So many games with these boys. So many layers. She's still working on working it all out.

Nash detaches his mouth from the girl in his lap, the girl who now seems to be grinding down on him, and offers her a blinding smile. "Avery, glad you made it. Would you like something to drink?"

She knows it's rude not to reply, but her mind has just started cataloging the little details in the room, her mind giving her the bigger picture in a talent that has harmed her as much as it has kept her alive.

There's a spattering of red flakes (blood) on nash's sleeve. There a small bit on the side of Jameson's …neck. Alexander's nails have it. Grayson keeps leaving red fingerprints on the pool cue.

She wonders how much of that is purposeful, how much forgetful, how much accidental.

She just smiles back.

"No, thank you, Mr. Hawthorne. Is there something I can help you with?"

Is there a reason you called? Is there a reason I'm here? Can't I have one night of sleep, after the night we've already had? What do you want? Why am I here? What can I help you with?

Simultaneously, Nash's eyes flick over to the pool table and Grayson's eyes flick over to the couch and it's not the instantaneous understanding and communication that Nash and Jameson have, but they come to some decision before she has taken three more breaths.

Nash looks back to the girl in his lap and murmurs something in her ear. She pouts, he says something else and strokes her hair, and she brightens. She kisses him briefly and then stands, heading for the door.

Alexander chuckles. Jameson smirks.

Grayson rolls his eyes and drops the pool cue. "Idiotic," he says derisively, and sits down at the other end of the couch from Nash.

Jameson heads over too, flicking Alexander on the back of his head as he passes, and then throws himself down into a beanbag. He ignores the way Grayson looks at him. Nash tilts his face away, smiling.

"Thea, Lyra," Grayson says, and they all know he doesn't have to continue.

"We're out," 'Lyra' confirms, waving goodbye.

"Good to see you, Heiress," Thea adds as they pass him, walking out the door.

Heiress. If this is a dig at her escape from her grandmother on the west coast, it isn't a good one. Anyone with one braincell and two working eyes could have seen that her grandmother thought Avery anything but a worthy heir.

"Rohan?" Jameson says next. Rohan rolls his eyes and says, "Juliet, Savvy, move your asses." The girl on the couch pops to his her, swaying a little and blinking rapidly, and mouthing something that looks vaguely like 'mimosas', but Savannah just snorts. "Yeah, right."

Grayson looks over at her, eyebrows raised. She scowls, but gives in, heading for the door after her twin.

"Just shout," she says to him, and then heads out the door with Rohan on her heels, leaving Avery alone with the four Hawthorne boys.

It's not often that it's just her and them. Usually there are other people who work for them there, or it's just half the boys, or maybe even only one of them. But really, Avery doesn't spend a lot of time with them. She's only been working for Don Hawthorne for four months; she's not part of the inner circle, she's not even their go-to woman. She does her job well, keeps the information she used to get the job under lock and key, as per their deal, and sometimes they check in on her.

Every time they do, she wonders if this time is the time, the time where everything goes to shit, the time where they reveal that they know, that they've just been playing her, stringing her along, having some fun. Avery wonders if she would let herself be strung out if it was a specific boy.

Right now, just alone with the four boys, there are an infinite number of possibilities as to what will happen with her. It is Schrödinger's experiment, except she is the cat, trapped without air, both dead and alive at the same time, and at this point in time, where anything can happen, Avery wonders.

[aphroditelovesu]

⸻ The Lost Queen - XVII ⸻

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, eventual smut, pregnancy.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 3,641.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23.

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 17

Your heart was hammering in your chest, each beat a sharp, rapid thud that echoed throughout your body. It was as if it were trying to escape, as if it knew something your mind had yet to process. Your eyes were fixed on the bloodstain that stained the white sheets, a sight that contrasted brutally with the immaculate purity of the fabric. The deep red seemed to pulse, almost as if it were alive, mocking your growing terror.

You tried to swallow, but your throat was dry, as if all the air had been sucked from the room. What did this mean? You didn’t know. And the unknown was an abyss that pulled you deeper with each passing second. Fear coiled in your stomach, squeezing tightly, a suffocating sensation that made it impossible to think clearly.

It couldn’t be a miscarriage, you repeated to yourself, almost like a desperate prayer. There was no pain, and you couldn’t feel the blood running down your thighs. But then… What was it? Confusion swirled through his mind like a storm, each thought more chaotic and dark than the last. Your fingers, almost by reflex, touched the stain. The blood was dried, rough under your skin. Red, thick, almost unreal.

What was happening to you? The answer seemed so distant and yet so terribly close at the same time. The air grew heavy, oppressive, and you began to struggle to breathe. Each breath was a painful effort, as if your chest were being crushed by an invisible weight. Your heart, which was already beating fast, now seemed out of control, and a dull pain began to spread, radiating through your lungs, your ribs.

You knew, in the back of your mind, that you were on the verge of a panic attack. But this realization only seemed to intensify the feeling of despair. Your lungs burned, and each breath you tried to take was short and hurried, insufficient. Your legs began to shake uncontrollably, as if they could no longer support the weight of the fear that was taking over you. And then, without warning, your strength gave out.

You fell to your knees on the floor, your breathing ragged and rapid. The room around you seemed to spin, the walls closing in, as if they wanted to swallow you. Your vision blurred with the tears that you barely noticed falling. The sound of your heart beating was the only clear thing, each beat like a raging drum inside your head. Panic had consumed you completely, and you were lost within it.

"It's okay, I'm here..."

The voice sounded distant, as if it were coming from somewhere outside your inner chaos. It was soft but firm, cutting through the confusion in your mind. At first, you could barely understand what was happening, lost between the feeling of suffocation and the ringing in your ears. But then, strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you up with a security that your body needed at that moment.

The warmth of that touch contrasted with the cold that spread across your skin. The embrace was tight, like an anchor in the midst of the whirlwind of emotions. Little by little, almost imperceptibly at first, your breathing began to find a calmer rhythm. The air, which had previously seemed impossible to pull into your lungs, began to flow more steadily, bringing relief. Each frantic beat of your heart slowed, and the panic that dominated your senses slowly receded, like a wave moving away from the shore.

Your eyes, which had been out of focus, began to clear. The dark spots and blurry vision gave way to clearer shapes. You felt your chest rise and fall more gently, and the tremor in your legs began to subside. When you finally felt stable enough to realize where you were, you looked up.

Perdiccas.

He was holding you firmly, his arms still around your waist, as if he were determined not to let you fall again. His face, usually serious and composed, was marked by an expression of genuine concern. He didn't say anything else, but the look he exchanged with you spoke volumes. You weren't alone. That hug, that silent support, was what you needed to find yourself again.

The feeling of relief was accompanied by a slight wave of embarrassment. Not because of what had happened, but because of the intensity with which Perdiccas had witnessed your vulnerability, because it was he, after all the conflicts between you, who had held you when you needed it most. Still, you allowed yourself to relax a little more in his arms, feeling safe for the first time since panic began to consume you. His voice, even with the silence that followed, echoed inside you. "I'm here." And somehow, that was all you needed to hear.

Perdiccas was immersed in a whirlwind of emotions, far beyond what words could express. Holding you in his arms at that moment, feeling the tremors in your body, the weight of your fear, the panic in your eyes, made him question everything he had believed to be right until then.

The news of your pregnancy had come as a brutal blow to him. The silent fury that had taken over him at that moment still consumed him somewhere inside him. Everything seemed out of control. He wanted it to go away – he wanted the pregnancy to disappear like a bad dream. It was a constant reminder that you did not belong completely to him, that a part of you would be his.

He hated it. He hated it so much that he wanted to remove this thing, this disease, from you. He would rip it out before it took shape, before it was born. He had already drawn up his plans, coldly rational, as he always did when faced with obstacles. But then, everything changed.

When he saw you in that condition, on your knees, struggling to breathe, he realized that it wasn't just a distant dilemma, it wasn't just a matter of something he could control. You weren't a piece in this game that he could move at will. You were real, scared, in pain. The blood on the sheets, which had been the trigger for your panic attack, also hit him with unexpected force. That blood, that stain, made him feel terribly responsible.

As he held you tighter, trying to calm your breathing and bring your mind back to reality, he felt the weight of the internal conflict growing. The decision that had once seemed so clear now became unbearably hazy. How could he go ahead with his plans? How could he think of causing you even more pain, more suffering, knowing how much it already consumed you?

He felt the heat of your body against his and realized, for the first time, that he couldn't treat you as an obstacle to be removed. The fear you felt was real, palpable, and somehow, he was also affected by that fear. He couldn't do this to you.

Perdiccas knew that you couldn't, wouldn't be able to, handle so much pain at once. And he didn't want to break you, not entirely, at least.

The heartbreak still dominated him, and his dark desires still lurked in the general's mind. But one thing was clear: he couldn't hurt you like that. He couldn't be the cause of more pain, not after seeing how broken you were, not when he had already caused you more pain than he could ever imagine. As much as the pregnancy haunted him, he knew right then, as you calmed down in his arms, that the plans he had devised could no longer be followed.

Perdiccas closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking a deep breath. He still didn't know what he would do from then on, but one decision had been made: he wouldn't hurt you again.

Bactria was a barren land, with vast deserts and towering mountains that seemed to stretch to the sky. The heat was oppressive, a dry kind of heat that made the skin burn and the throat dry out quickly. Alexander, despite his great endurance and having faced harsh climates, found the climate of Bactria especially exhausting. The constant heat, the relentless sun... It was not a place he would have chosen for its beauty or comfort.

But the victory over the Bactrians had been decisive, a conquest that further solidified his dominion over that vast region. And as a sign of respect – or perhaps a veiled surrender – the local ruler and his nobles hosted a banquet in honor of Alexander and his army. The invitation came with promises of music, dancing and plenty, something that, after the hardship of the battle, seemed like a well-deserved balm for the exhausted soldiers.

Alexander, ever pragmatic and strategically minded, accepted the invitation. He knew that, beyond celebration, banquets like this were an opportunity to cement alliances, to soothe any spark of resistance that might still lurk in the hearts of the vanquished. Bactria might be hot and desolate, but it was a key to his empire, and winning the favor of its leaders was as important as defeating them on the battlefield.

As night fell, the heat of the day slowly began to dissipate, replaced by a light coolness carried by the desert breeze. The courtyard where the banquet would be held was lit by torches and candelabras, and the aroma of spices wafted through the air, mingling with the sound of musicians tuning their instruments.

Alexander entered the room, flanked by Hephaestion and some of his generals. His eyes scanned the room, always alert for any sign of danger or suspicion. But that night, the faces around him seemed relaxed, although there was a subtle tension, typical of a city that had recently been subjugated. The nobles of Bactria, dressed in rich robes and adorned with jewels, eagerly awaited the arrival of the great conqueror.

The local ruler, Oxyartes, stood as Alexander entered, offering a respectful greeting, his tight smile reflecting both gratitude and fear. He gestured for Alexander to sit in the place of honor, and soon, the banquet began.

Exotic dishes were served, with rare fruits, meats seasoned with oriental spices, and fragrant wines that were unfamiliar to many of the Macedonians present. The sound of local instruments began to fill the air, followed by the entrance of dancers who moved gracefully, their bodies adorned with brightly colored fabrics. The music was mesmerizing, unlike anything the Macedonians were accustomed to, and for a brief moment, even Alexander allowed himself to relax, watching the dance unfold before him.

Although he was not a man easily impressed, he recognized the skill and beauty of the culture. There was something about Bactria that, even under the unbearable heat and hostile landscape, exuded an elegance that was hard to ignore.

As the banquet progressed, Alexander watched with attentive eyes.

Despite the beauty and grace of the dancers, who moved with mesmerizing elegance, Alexander couldn't help but feel his heart and mind far away from there. The women, with their ornate clothes and fluid movements, certainly caught the attention of the men around them, and the banquet seemed like the perfect occasion to relax after so many battles. But for Alexander, all of that seemed distant, almost irrelevant.

The image of (Y/N) wouldn't leave his thoughts. Even as his eyes followed the graceful bodies of the dancers, his mind was focused on his lost wife, kidnapped, taken away from him. The banquet, the dances, the exotic food and the heat of Bactria seemed like shadows, unable to fill the void that (Y/N) had left in his heart.

Hephaestion, sitting next to him, gave him a discreet look, noticing the uneasiness in Alexander's eyes. He knew, more than anyone, that this was a fight that the great conqueror was fighting internally. Hephaestion, for his part, also kept his own silent vow to not rest until Alexander's wife was rescued, but he knew he could not take away the pain his friend felt now.

Alexander clutched the wine glass in his hand, watching the dancers with a distant expression. There was one dancer in particular who would not take her eyes off him. She was very beautiful; with dark eyes, long black hair, and her skin was a dark tone. The way she watched him made Alexander a little uncomfortable.

Roxanna.

''I do not desire a new wife.''

Alexander’s voice cut through the air like a sharp blade. It was cold, almost icy, with a harshness that made the generals present exchange tense glances. There was an unquestionable authority in the king’s words, a decision already made, a line that should not be crossed.

Oxyartes, who stood before him, tried to maintain his composure, but the internal conflict was written all over his face. He knew he was treading on delicate territory, but he also knew he had no choice. He needed to make Alexander accept his daughter, he needed to secure the alliance he so desired for his future. However, Alexander’s relentless response had deeply shaken his hopes.

''But, my king, my daughter is the most beautiful woman in all of Asia!'' Oxyartes’ voice sounded almost like a plea, a desperate man trying to persuade the one who seemed unshakable. Every word was charged with urgency, with an almost wounded pride, as if Roxanna's beauty were a bargaining chip that could soften the great conqueror's heart.

But Alexander did not move, his gaze remained steady and impassive. He watched Oxyartes without any trace of apparent emotion, as if the man's words had not even managed to scratch the surface of his decision. The silence that followed Oxyartes' plea was deafening, and each passing second only increased the tension in the air.

The generals present, watching the scene, remained static, but internally they were attentive to every gesture, every inflection. They knew that Alexander was not a man to be manipulated, much less in matters that involved his personal power and his worldview. And yet, Oxyartes remained there, vulnerable, desperately seeking an opening.

Roxanna's beauty, something that could seduce many kings, seemed to have no such effect on Alexander. The King of Macedonia was no ordinary man, and his desire for conquest and glory often overrode worldly matters. And yet, Oxyartes' request hung in the air like a nagging shadow, waiting to be addressed.

The only wife he wanted was his own. It was (Y/N) back in his arms, safe and sound.

Alexander finally broke the silence, his piercing eyes fixed on Oxyartes. There was no anger, but there was no softness in his tone either.

''I have no need for beauty, Oxyartes. The only woman I care about, the one I desire and want by my side, is my wife. And right now, I could be getting her back, but you are in my way and I will not tolerate anyone getting in my way of getting her back.''

Oxyartes swallowed hard, his fear now clearly visible. He knew he could not push Alexander much further without risking offending him, but the feeling of helplessness was beginning to overwhelm him. He had put everything on the line so that his daughter would be united with a powerful man.

Still, he knew he could not back down. The fate of his family, and perhaps his people, depended on Alexander’s answer. Oxyartes tried to gather his courage one last time.

''Roxanna is not only beautiful, my King. She is strong, intelligent, a true queen. She could be an invaluable ally in your dreams. Please consider this.''

Alexander’s eyes remained fixed on Oxyartes for a long moment, impenetrable and cold. He did not want Roxanna, and even less did he wish to take another wife, despite understanding the political weight that a union with a Persian woman could bring. But his heart was elsewhere, trapped in the anguish of a deep grief. (Y/N), his wife, the woman he loved, had been kidnapped, and every moment without her was an open wound in his soul.

Marrying Roxanna would be a smart move, yes, but he wasn’t driven solely by strategy in this matter. (Y/N)’s absence haunted him, and the idea of ​​accepting another woman into his life while she was still missing seemed like a betrayal impossible to bear.

He took a deep breath, maintaining control in the face of the generals and Oxyartes, whose insistence was beginning to become an unbearable weight. The man's desperate plea, insisting on Roxanna's beauty and qualities, reverberated in his ears, but did not touch the center of his mind, which was focused in another direction.

Not allowing his strong facade to waver, Alexander raised his hand, signaling the end of this conversation.

''Everyone leave,'' hHe ordered, his voice loud and authoritative, cutting through the air like a blade. There was no room for questions, and everyone knew what that tone meant. ''I just want Hephaestion to stay.''

The generals exchanged brief, tense glances before bowing and leaving quickly, respecting the immediate order. Oxyartes hesitated for a second, but the coldness in Alexander's eyes made him retreat as well, leaving the hall silent, except for the presence of Hephaestion.

When the last person left, the weight of the moment fell upon the room. Alexander ran a hand over his face, as if trying to dispel the weariness that consumed him. Hephaestion watched silently, waiting for the king to speak.

"Hephaestion," Alexander began, his voice now filled with a sadness he rarely let show. "I cannot marry Roxanna. Not while (Y/N) is in the hands of the one who took her from me. How can I marry again, knowing that the woman I love is lost somewhere, without my having rescued her? How can I marry another when she still needs me?"

Hephaestion knew that this was the burden that weighed most heavily on Alexander, even amidst all his conquests and battles. He knew that (Y/N) was the center of the king's concerns, and that no alliance, no matter how advantageous, would replace the void left by her absence.

"We will find her, Alexander," Hephaestion repeated, his voice firm as he approached the king. "But you should not completely rule out the idea of ​​taking a second wife. It could gain us the support of the locals."

The words hung in the air between them, charged with a mixture of pragmatism and loyalty. Alexander, standing before his most trusted friend, kept his gaze steady, but his eyes narrowed slightly, reflecting his resistance. He knew that Hephaestion always spoke what he thought was best for him, but this matter touched on something that went beyond any political strategy.

Hephaestion, sensing the tension his words were provoking, stepped forward, the intensity in his gaze unwavering. He knew he had to be cautious, but he also knew he had to be direct.

''You know I would never suggest this unless it was necessary,'' Hephaestion continued, his voice now lower but still filled with conviction. ''We will find (Y/N). We will not rest until she is safely back in your arms. But in the meantime, you must consider the possibility of marrying Roxanna.''

The mention of (Y/N)’s name brought a knot of pain to Alexander’s chest. She, his wife, his Queen, had been ripped from his life, kidnapped by those who sought to hurt him more deeply than any sword thrust, by one of his most loyal friends. The thought of replacing her, of even considering another woman, was a blow to his pride and his heart. But the reality of his achievements, of his dream, forced him to face truths he preferred to ignore.

"Roxanna is a strategic asset, Alexander," Hephaestion continued, seeing that the king was listening to him. "The Persians, the locals... They would accept your leadership more readily if they saw an alliance being sealed. You would have the people on your side, something that could be as valuable as a victory on the battlefield. We can continue the search for (Y/N) at the same time."

Alexander turned his face away, his thoughts racing. He knew Hephaestion was right in many ways, but the conflict inside him tore at him. He had married (Y/N) out of love and perhaps curiosity, and the idea of ​​marrying again while she was missing felt like betrayal.

''You ask me to do the unthinkable, Hephaestion,” Alexander murmured, his voice thick with frustration and pain. ''How can I look at another woman while (Y/N), my wife, is lost? I am not just a king, I am a man... And she is my Queen.''

Hephaestion nodded, his expression softening a little at his friend's pain. "I know, Alexander. And no one understands that better than I. But you are the king of an empire that never stops growing. The weight of the crown is heavy because it demands sacrifices, even those that break the heart. Marrying Roxanna does not mean giving up on (Y/N). It means ensuring stability while we continue to fight for her. You can still bring her back. And when you do, she will have the place she always had."

Alexander was silent for a moment, his thoughts a whirlwind of loyalty, duty, and loss. Hephaestion’s intense gaze met his once more, filled with understanding and, at the same time, challenge.

''I need time to think.'' Alexander finally replied, his voice colder than before, but less rigid than it had been at the beginning of their conversation.

Hephaestion, knowing he had done what he could without pushing him too hard, nodded silently. He only hoped his friend would make the right choice.

— lady l: I know it took me a while to post and I apologize for that! My days have been busy and I finally managed to finish and edit it. I hope you liked it and forgive me for any mistakes!

Love you all and I'll see you soon! ❤️

If you like my work, consider donating! :)

[alexanderlightweight]

So happy to see you back! Hope everything is well. Not really a promt promt, so if you end up ignoring it, completely fine. But do you have anymore ideas for abo au, as I really enjoyed your previous writing about it

nsfw/sfw

thank you! very happy to be back and this is sfw fill and a look into the future of desire unprovoked in which malec are omega/omega mates. this is several years in the future of when they first met and they're basically an unrepentant power couple who are far too invested in each other.

hope you enjoy <3

lumine

-

desire unprovoked

“Nephilim don’t need their biology broken down and explained to them,” Alexander is pacing back and forth as he unbuttons his shirt.  Magnus’ gaze is on the steady, glorious reveal of skin beneath fabric, until it stops.  “None of us know how to explain designations, it’s like trying to explain that we fight demons and breathe oxygen.”

Magnus bites back a sigh as Alec forgoes undressing to pace. Kindly refraining from reminding Alexander that he’ll also need to figure out how to explain the demon hunting bit, seeing as that won’t be obvious to Clarissa either.

“Do you need my help?” Magnus offers, hoping to get through this hurdle in a timely manner so he can finally have the dessert he’s currently being denied.

“No—” Alexander’s lip curl at the edges as he gives Magnus a wary look.  “You’re too you,” he motions here to Magnus’ entirety, “I won’t get anything done when you look like that.”

“Oh, like what sweetheart?” A smirk lingers on Magnus lips, his scent pulsing with pleasure despite Alexander’s pointed look.

“Like you could obliterate a horde of demons without losing your breath and then fuck me on a battlefield. You know exactly what you look like, Magnus. You do it on purpose.” 

“Are you saying it’s my fault for your poor self control?” Crossing his boots, Magnus clicks his tongue in mock sadness, “being blamed simply for existing with a fashion sense.  How cruel.”

“My self-control is amazing considering I’m going back to the Institute instead of just staying here, with you.”

The statement cuts through Magnus’ amusement like a sheet of ice cold rain on the back of his neck.  

“You’re staying here,” Magnus’ voice is clipped, serious even as he stalks Alexander with his gaze.  “You’re going to join me in my nest and in the afternoon I’ll help you make a plan. There’s no need to return so soon and waste a trip.” It’s the perfect solution and Magnus doesn’t know why Alexander is buttoning his shirt back up instead of finally taking it off.

Whatever the reason for this cruel torment, Magnus will be having his revenge on the cause.

“Magnus, do you know what will take up even more of my time?” Alexander doesn’t wait for Magnus to guess, “if my Institute gets put on lockdown.  Which will happen if an unknown, newly presented omega nephilim ends up dead on my watch.”

“Is she already a target?”

“She’s making herself a target.  Izzy tried to cook for her, twice. Jace just messaged me that she’s in the kitchen again and he’s not sure he can keep Clary from accidentally ingesting anything a third time.” Alexander is downright grumbling now, giving Magnus a sad, longing gaze like he’s not the one threatening to leave. “If I miss my chance to convince Idris to take her now, I might not get another for months.”

“You’re shipping her to Idris, I thought you wanted to use her as bait?” All of this is news to Magnus, who had only learned of Clarissa’s explosive entry back into their world two days before.

“She smells too much for me to use her as bait.” Alexander’s nose wrinkles and Magnus finds himself distracted, helplessly charmed by the motion.  “She’s constantly distressed or enraged and it’s not good for my hunters, or for Jace.  His stress response to her is so bad that I’ve had to have scent blockers pumped through the hallways.  I’ve gotten over a dozen complaints since she arrived.”

Alexander’s face twists into a look of disturbed fascination, “usually they try to get me to contain my instincts.  At the moment, everyone besides my siblings are encouraging me to give in to them, I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to hold off.” His voice is oddly guilty as he speaks, as if it’s some great sin to admit a weakness.

“Then off to Idris she goes.” Magnus fingers arch in a playful shooing motion that brings light and laughter back to Alexander’s eyes and scent.  “Perhaps Jace can be her liaison, if she’s so comfortable with him.”

—

notes:

Jace: this is leaving for chicago all over again but instead of it being my choice i got kicked out by my brothers mate? Like i am happy to go with clary but somehow i still feel wronged by this entire situation.

Magnus: look, my pretty boy mate keeps leaving me to get things done.  This is unacceptable and i am tired of it.  If its not fixed there will be consequences.

Meanwhile a jace and izzy who actually listen to alec stopping clary from leaving the institute: alec PLEASE COME HOME THIS IS HARD

Alec just throwing clary’s entire being into a lockdown, scent-proofing room: problem solved, now just leave her in there because i promised to meet magnus for coffee and if i cancel one more time he’ll retaliate by rerouting the rest of the Institute’s hot water.

Alec to idris: hello, i have a problem for you... yes i realize you wanted her here as bait but the thing is, in order for bait to work it needs to be alive.  I can’t guarantee that last bit much longer.  

Idris: ... you know she’s better off here anyways.  If valentine wants to poke the hornets nest that is alec lightwood’s territory, raziel be with his ashes.

Magnus’ is also going to be just, following alec back to the institute to make sure there are no distractions. He can’t actually have his cake and eat it to when his cake just fled the building  

Explaining to an already adult nephilim about their biology, a/b/o genetics/characteristics/physiology/ etc is not something alec or anyone he knows has ever considered or had to deal with. Introduction to a/b/o to people is a vampire and werewolf problem, sometimes a warlock problem.  It’s not something seelies/unseelies/nephilim and born shadowworlders really ever have to deal with. It’s like trying to explain to someone how to blow their nose or blink.  Natural, instinctive things that should just be known. Izzy has tried and failed to explain to clary, jace got a little further and since alec is an omega and the highest ranking shadowhunter in the institute, they also tried to have him explain.

Clary is more confused now after talking to alec (who had his nostrils flared from trying not to smell her and his teeth bared out of discomfort the whole time) and would like to know how she ended up in a fucked  teen wolf/harry potter werewolf crossover fanfiction.  When someone like Simon is your best friend, you have seen some things.

Clary: why does alec look at me like i’m a threat?

Jace laughing: he doesn’t look at you like you’re a threat. He looks at you like an annoyance.

Clary: is there a difference?

IZzy with a big smile as she offers clary a tray of food:  if you were a  threat you’d be dead.

[queereads-bracket]

Queer Historical Fiction Book Bracket: Round 2A

Book summaries below:

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Aging and reclusive Hollywood movie icon Evelyn Hugo is finally ready to tell the truth about her glamorous and scandalous life. But when she chooses unknown magazine reporter Monique Grant for the job, no one is more astounded than Monique herself. Why her? Why now?

Monique is not exactly on top of the world. Her husband has left her, and her professional life is going nowhere. Regardless of why Evelyn has selected her to write her biography, Monique is determined to use this opportunity to jumpstart her career.

Summoned to Evelyn’s luxurious apartment, Monique listens in fascination as the actress tells her story. From making her way to Los Angeles in the 1950s to her decision to leave show business in the ‘80s, and, of course, the seven husbands along the way, Evelyn unspools a tale of ruthless ambition, unexpected friendship, and a great forbidden love. Monique begins to feel a very real connection to the legendary star, but as Evelyn’s story nears its conclusion, it becomes clear that her life intersects with Monique’s own in tragic and irreversible ways.

Setting: Golden Age of Hollywood, 1950s–1960s

Historical fiction, Golden Age of Hollywood, 1950s, 1960s, adult

Any Old Diamonds by KJ Charles (Lilywhite Boys #1)

Lord Alexander Pyne-ffoulkes is the younger son of the Duke of Ilvar, with a bitter grudge against his wealthy father. The Duke intends to give his Duchess a priceless diamond parure on their wedding anniversary—so Alec hires a pair of jewel thieves to steal it.

The Duke's remote castle is a difficult target, and Alec needs a way to get the thieves in. Soldier-turned-criminal Jerry Crozier has the answer: he'll pose as a Society gentleman and become Alec's new best friend.

But Jerry is a dangerous man: controlling, remote, and devastating. He effortlessly teases out the lonely young nobleman’s most secret desires, and soon he’s got Alec in his bed—and the palm of his hand.

Or maybe not. Because as the plot thickens, betrayals, secrets, new loves, and old evils come to light. Now the jewel thief and the aristocrat must keep up the pretence, find their way through a maze of privilege and deceit, and confront the truth of what's between them…all without getting caught.

Setting: Victorian England, 1890s

Historical fiction, romance, heist, late Victorian, 1890s, adult