#and then i came up with generic names for everything else WEEPS

[astrinde]

Fandom asks, Astrinde responds (3):

In the fandom ask game, here are F, L, N, V, and W for @luanna801; I am humbled by your curiosity! Answers appear below the cut.

F - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom? In my late teens and early twenties, I "served" for eight-ish years in an Empire-aligned Star Wars online club (which apparently still exists). I played the game TIE Fighter as my primary "duty," eventually led a squadron of pilots, and then left the battle ranks to become an officer. I also wrote fanfiction, with myself and other members as characters, and IRC-chatted often with my virtual colleagues. I had several relationships start there, too, and even met my first husband through the club. And I cannot emphasise enough that all of this enthusiasm and energy came about before the prequels were released and ruined everything.

Though I had a good experience with the group, I also shied away from participating in organised fandom for a long time after; I spent far too much time on my computer and ended up very lonely for it. I still am quite solitary with almost no friends, and looking back now, I do wonder whether that experience, at that formative time in my life, might have affected me in terms of personal and emotional growth.

I have a tattoo of the Imperial symbol on my left wrist, as a memorial to the club and everyone I met there.

L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves.

Lan Qiren took over as primary caregiver for his two nephews, while coping with his own grief, and those boys became paragons of generosity and virtue. CQL/The Untamed was my introduction to the MDZS story, danmei, and xianxia, all in one, and so I mentally condemned LQR quite harshly after seeing LWJ beaten. It was only after learning more about the rules that governed Clans generally, and his behaviour specifically, that I understood better why LQR made the decisions that he did. And the love and respect afforded him by his nephews - particularly as shown in CQL, where LXC weeps as he's ordered to leave him behind - speaks volumes about the bond they share.

N - Name three things you wish you saw more of in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice).

My current main fandom is Mo Dao Zu Shi (MDZS)/The Untamed (CQL) - the pairing of XiYao (Lan Xichen/Jin Guangyao) in particular. This likely comes as a very great shock, I know. :) Three things I dearly wish I saw more:

More courtesy towards XiYao shippers and fans of LXC and JGY (especially JGY). I've never seen a XiYao fan push the pairing on anyone else or insist that those individuals should be unconditionally, uncritically adored. I do see quite a bit of mean-spirited discourse around the characters, with tired, unsupported-by-canon stereotypes - LXC as absurdly naïve, mindless himbo, JGY as one-dimensional, scheming user and/or sociopath - tagged "XiYao," as though we're sure to enjoy the newest variation on, "these guys suck, and nobody should like them." Can we not simply enjoy our beloveds in peace?

More joyful, passionate, and/or explicit art of the pair. Their tragedy looms large over their story, so I always adore images where they delight in each other. More of this gorgeous, loving intimacy, please! And I do plan to commission a few art pieces in the near future, to help put some of that energy out there. (Do feel free to DM me if you're a XiYao-loving artist…)

More specificity in tagging posts, instead of listing everything under both "MDZS" and "CQL." I love both the novel and the drama, but they present quite different versions of the story, and this bleed-over can be time-consuming when searching out fanfiction or shopping for merchandise. (Tangentially, I wish there was more LXC merch. I have a few JGY pieces that will probably be lonely for a long time because the corresponding LXC is no longer available. But I can't really complain about the selection remaining when I'm quite late to the party.)

V - Which character do you relate to most? Hoooo. Okay, so. :squirms: This answer will tell people a lot about me, much of it unpleasant, so feel free to skip it; I certainly didn't want to recognise all of this stuff about myself, so I won't blame you if you don't, either. The short answer is that I relate to both halves of XiYao. Here's how:

Jin Guangyao: Difficult upbringing, problematic parent(s), poor sense of self with self-worth that swings between extremes. Learned to fawn and evoke pity from others. Calculates out of necessity - sometimes actual, sometimes perceived - with regard to relative position and power. Manipulative, through both what is said and what's left unsaid. Detail-oriented, excellent memory, remembers others' dis/likes. (Fantastic gift-giver, lol.) Feels constantly humiliated in/by life. Determined, devoted, intelligent, natural musical talent. Fondness for songs in minor keys (CQL only :P ).

Lan Xichen: Diplomat, able to smooth over and bridge gaps in tense situations. Musician who speaks in music, has participated in conversations by playing an instrument. Gentle, soothing presence. Praised for serenity. Slow to anger, but can deploy cutting words when anger is roused. Kind, compassionate, but few close associations. Tries to believe the best of others, can be read as naïve. Retreats completely when hurt (a Lan practice overall, to be fair). Willful blindness to unpleasant character traits or choices, sustained a long-term relationship on the basis of, "I see the truth of him as no-one else does."

It's odd that I love the individuals and the pairing both, when I don't like myself much at all. But there's certainly power in a well-written character arc, supported by lots of gorgeous details!

W - A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom. A/B/O. I don't grudge anyone their pleasure in whatever they enjoy, but I react to these tropes with the same aversion that I feel towards patriarchy in general, toxic masculinity in particular. I read and write fanfiction partly to escape the crushing aspects of modern life, and Omegaverse reminds me a little too much of things I'd rather forget.

[silencedminstrel]

GLIMPSES OF THE FINAL PROPHECY - GUARDIAN HUMOGA TRIAKIS IS BEING SWORN IN AS THE GREAT GUARDIANS' NEW LEADER IN A PRIVATE CEREMONY (SPECULATIVE SCRIPT)

INT - BUZNA IBETI (CITY TOWER), THE VALLEY CITY - DAY

THE CHARACTERS - GUARDIAN HUMOGA TRIAKIS, GREAT SEER ROYGBIV, MAYOR ABRUZZESSE (LEADER OF THE CITIZENS OF XNROE FACTION), SAIF NIZMA THE GUARDIAN OF XNROE

THE THREE EXALTED ONES SOLEMNLY MAKE THEIR WAY TO THEIR DESIGNATED PLACES AS THE INCUMBENT LEADER OF THE GREAT GUARDIANS STANDS READY BELOW THEM. THEY RESPECTFULLY GREET EACH OTHER AND THE ANXIOUS MAN OF THE HOUR BEFORE THE MYSTERIOUS MASKED FIGURE IN BLACK, WHITE AND SILVER, THE ONE CALLED SAIF NIZMA GUARDIAN OF XNROE, OFFICIATES THE CEREMONY.

SAIF NIZMA: When you first came to me you were barely an adult, but I am thankful that my gambit pays off, Guardian Humoga!

HUMOGA: I couldn't have done it at all without your help and guidance, Master!

GREAT ROYGBIV: And still you are as polite and courteous as the day we first met; a child of XNROE not born of XNROE, the one unsure of his place and destiny...

MAYOR ABRUZZESSE: Yet here you are now, the only one who stands betwixt prosperity, and the end of everything as we know it!

HUMOGA: I've never forgotten everything that you ever taught me, Great Seer! I can't thank you enough for your tutelage...!

HUMOGA (CONTINUED): And I'll also try my very best to live up to your expectations, Mr Mayor! And also to everyone else's on this great planet...!

THE EXALTED TRIO DELIBERATES FOR A BRIEF MOMENT. THEN THE ONE CALLED GREAT ROYGBIV MAGICKALLY CONJURES UP A BIG, OBSIDIAN LIKE SPHERE TO APPEAR AT THE CENTER OF THE HALL.

MAYOR ABRUZZESSE: Now come forth before The Heart of Innocence and place your hands upon it, Guardian Humoga...!

HUMOGA: Understood...!

HUMOGA SOLEMNLY APPROACHES THE FLOATING, DARK ORB AND PLACES BOTH HANDS OVER ITS COLD SURFACE.

GREAT ROYGBIV: Now reveal to it your secret (Xnrene) name and your place in our world, Guardian Humoga...!

HUMOGA: I am Humov Gavaani (Rainbow of Dawn), Leader of the Next Generation of Great Guardians, Sacred Key Master of the Stipusee Kaq-Zu and...and Herald of The Vermilion Sunset! (Cosmic Armageddon)

THE FORMERLY DARK CRYSTAL IS SUDDENLY AGLOW, FLOODS THE ENTIRE INTERIOR OF THE BUILDING WITH AN INTRICATE DISPLAY OF DAZZLING LIGHTS AND SLIGHTLY DISORIENTS HUMOGA AS HE CONTINUES TO HOLD ON TO IT.

SAIF NIZMA: Excellent! The Heart of Innocence recognizes your celestial soul imprint, Guardian Humoga! Now tell us, what did you see within your mind's eye?

HUMOGA TRIES MOMENTARILY TO REGAIN HIS COMPOSURE WHILST KEEPING HIS HANDS FIRMLY ON TOP OF THE STUNNING BEACON

HUMOGA: I saw...a gleaming...endless...field of grass...crowned by the...sunniest clear blue sky...but without heat and...and three majestic rivers! Two of them...are on the surface...while the third one...is flowing underneath...the field...! It's...it's beautiful!

SUDDENLY AN AIR OF SADNESS FILLS THE AIR, SLOWLY AS THE MAYOR OF THE VALLEY CITY CAN BE SEEN GIVEN TO WEEPING BEFORE HIS SYMPATHETIC PEERS AND THE GUARDIAN BELOW HIM.

MAYOR ABRUZZESSE: (Sniffle) Praise...The...Almighty...! Forsooth...you've seen the...The Promised Land, Guardian Humoga! You...you truly are worthy...worthy of your...your place...within...our...grand scheme...of things...!

THE REMAINING TWO ARE ALSO GIVEN TO WEEPING AT THIS VERY MOMENT. HUMOGA INSTINCTIVELY LET GO OF THE GLEAMING BALL AND RETURNS TO HIS PLACE. THEN THE SADNESS SUDDENLY VANISHES AS QUICKLY AS IT CAME.

MAYOR ABRUZZESSE: (Sigh) I, Veksili Abruzzesse, Keeper of The Present, hereby vouch for Guardian Humoga Triakis, as the rightful Leader of The Great Guardians of The Universe...!

A BRIEF MOMENT OF SILENCE PASSES BY THE ENTIRE INTERIOR OF THE HALL.

MAYOR ABRUZZESSE: So what say you, my friends?

MAYOR ABRUZZESSE THEN TURNS TOWARDS THE ONE TO HIS LEFT.

GREAT ROYGBIV: I, Roygbiv Splifzoden The Third, Keeper of The Past, hereby affirms the right of Guardian Humoga Triakis to The Councilor's Chair...!

MAYOR ABRUZZESSE THEN TURNS TOWARDS THE ONE TO HIS RIGHT.

SAIF NIZMA: (Sigh) And I, Saif Nizma, the sole offspring of The Great Crystal Tower of Xunuarykta and The Heart-Shaped Sea, Guardian of XNROE and Keeper of The Future, henceforth gives my blessings and keys to all our kingdoms under heaven...to Guardian Humoga Triakis...!

THE THREE DISTINGUISHED OFFICIALS GESTURE AGREEABLY TOWARDS EACH OTHER FOR A BRIEF MOMENT.

MAYOR ABRUZZESSE: Thus the Holy Triumvirate are now in consensus! Now, do you accept our unanimous decision, Guardian Humoga?

HUMOGA TRIES DESPERATELY TO HOLD BACK HIS TEARS. THE GREAT SEER SMILES SERENELY WHEREAS SAIF NIZMA APPEARS SLIGHTLY WORRIED.

HUMOGA: (Sniffle) And as Ag...as...my sole witness...I...I...I accept!

THE SEATED TRIUMVIRATE BRIEFLY GIVE EACH OTHER A SATISFIED LOOK.

MAYOR ABRUZZESSE: Now swear your oath of office before us, Great Guardian Humoga Triakis! Swear it like you were made for it...!

HUMOGA DRIES HIS TEARS FOR ONE LAST TIME AS HIS DISCIPLINED AND DUTIFUL NATURE RETURNS.

HUMOGA: (Sigh) I swear under the watchful, benevolent eyes of my one and only God Ag, that I shall protect and serve this Holy Planet with my every breath, and I shall defend its immaculate honor and heavenly sanctity with every drop of my blood! I shall dedicate my whole life to its welfare and safety, and I would as soon give up my life than to leave it in the hands of those, who opposes its rightful existence within this universe!

SAIF NIZMA FLASHES A PRIDE-FILLED SMILE BEHIND HIS MASKED FACE. THE GREAT SEER SUDDENLY LOOKS SLIGHTLY CONCERNED WHEREAS THE MAYOR ACTS LIKE HE'S SCRUTINIZING HUMOGA'S EVERY WORD.

HUMOGA (CONTINUED): This I solemnly swear, under all the Divine Words of Ag Himself, as written in our one and only Holy Book Mirukta...!

THE TRIUMVIRATE DELIBERATES SLIGHTLY LONGER THIS TIME. HUMOGA IS UNDERSTANDABLY NERVOUS.

GREAT ROYGBIV: Rejoice, my friend! For you now have executive rights over our entire resources, for life!

THE LOOKS OF SURPRISE INUNDATED HUMOGA'S FACE AT THAT VERY MOMENT.

MAYOR ABRUZZESSE: And we shall obey your every command, whereas your counsel and guidance will forever be our priority!

HUMOGA FEELS HIS NERVOUSNESS SLOWLY MELTS AWAY AT THAT MOMENT. HIS FROWN TURNS INTO A SMILE.

SAIF NIZMA: Walk free now, my friend! For you came before us today as but a mere follower...and you will leave henceforth as our new champion...of freedom and justice!

HUMOGA COULD HARDLY CONTAINS HIMSELF. SAIF NIZMA SMILES YET AGAIN BEHIND HIS MASK WHILE HIS FELLOW COUNCIL MEMBERS REACT POSITIVELY IN THEIR OWN WAY.

HUMOGA: Thank you, exalted members of The Holy Triumvirate! I will take my leave now, if it pleases you all?

THE THREE DELEGATES GIVE EACH OTHER A VERY PLEASED LOOK.

SAIF NIZMA: Granted, Great Guardian Humoga Triakis!

SAIF NIZMA WILLINGLY STANDS UP AND GESTURES A SIGN OF RESPECT TOWARDS HUMOGA.

MAYOR ABRUZZESSE: We shall follow your progress with the greatest of interest!

MAYOR ABRUZZESSE GRACIOUSLY STANDS UP AND GESTURES AT HUMOGA HIS SIGN OF RESPECT.

GREAT ROYGBIV: And may we are not too late to reverse these coming dark tides...!

THE DESPONDENT SEER STANDS UP, TELEPORTS THE GLOWING CRYSTAL AWAY FROM THE MAGNIFICENT HALL AND GIVES HUMOGA HIS MARK OF RESPECT. A MOMENT OF SILENCE DESCENDS AS SOON AS THAT ORB DISAPPEARS FROM VIEW.

MAYOR ABRUZZESSE: (Sigh) This ceremony is concluded...!

EVERYONE PROMPTLY GESTURES A FAREWELL TO EACH OTHER BEFORE SLOWLY EXITING THAT OPULENT BUILDING. HUMOGA GIVES HIMSELF A SIGH OF MIXED FEELINGS AS SOON AS HE FINDS HIMSELF OUT ON THE STREETS, LOOKS BACK FOR A MOMENT AND THEN MAGICKALLY TELEPORTS HIMSELF FOR HOME, AS SUNSET PLEASANTLY GREETS THE CITY BEHIND ITS ORANGEY SHADES.

FADE OUT.

THE END.

"a tall building with a stained window in the middle of it"

[harmonia-university]

I’m your moral support right?

heh...you sure it’s not the other way around...?

(thanks to ask-retro-rotom for letting me use their region name ideas! (Rhinia))

[rayshippouuchiha]

Hi Miss Ray, I've got the prologue/ teaser for that soul beast naruto fanfic. I dont have a name yet beyond (the fucking naruto fic) but I'm open to ideas. If you have any ideas in general I would love to hear it! I hope you and everyone else likes it uwu

It starts as everything started, with the ocean. Earth slowly rising above the surface of tumultuous waves. Mankind became itself, living with the land and all the wondrous creatures. But man is inherently a selfish being, soon forgetting the connections to the water and soil. They surround themselves with clay bricks and sharpened metal and call themselves superior; as if the land itself did not teach them to hide in the caves, to grow stronger.

But some never forgot that they were born of nothingness and seawater, from everything the world has to offer. They stay nestled safely in homes built with the world. They do not fight the current or attempt to blockade it, but simply flow with the waves, embracing it as it had embraced them once.

Most men fought their fickle wars over land and money and a thousand little reasons for their so-called ‘peace’. They came to us, asking for aid. The beasts and birds heard the call of ones who used to be pack, of those who were hatchmates, and formed a deal. Nine of the greatest creatures proudly stepped up to fight, to end an endless, bloody war that made the earth itself weep.

Man stole them, thinking themselves superior. They do not speak to their old friends and instead bind them so tightly that they lose themselves to rage and hatred. Other lesser beasts hid away completely, fearful and mistrusting of humans who misused power freely given.

It all starts with the ocean and a bridge and a thousand souls determined to do better. To make amends for the hurt their ancestors have caused.

It starts with one soul coming home for the first time and another returning after so long away.

It starts with The Ocean and a bridge

oH OHHHH YES!! This is so good! It's such a good start! I cannot wait to see more of this!!!

[afictionalwhore]

104 Training Corps Masturbation HCs

(Eren, Reiner, Armin, Jean, Connie, Levi, and Erwin)

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□ AN: I wrote this in between second covid vaccine naps, so just bear with me. All characters are aged up.

□ NSFW, mDNI

□ TW: smidge of ddlg, mommy kink, mentions of BDSM, Eren has anger issues, dubcon if you squint, cum eating

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Eren Jaeger

He’s so focused on his goals that he doesn’t really have the time to think about his feelings. So he doesn’t masturbate very often and definitely doesn’t have sex (see above), so the act is usually a last resort stress relief.

The first time he did it, he accidentally said your name. The next day, he couldn’t stop staring at you, wondering when he developed such feelings. He would look way quickly with a bright red blush whenever you caught him staring. But you became an addiction and obsession for him, something very dangerous.

Angry. Everything this man does is fueled by rage and that includes some good ole self love. He’s grunting your name through gritted teeth while his hard cock is weeping precum over his tight fist. He’s fast, and he’s messy.

He always feels disgusted with himself afterwards. He thinks it’s a waste of time and energy. While he always has a clearer head in terms of what to do next, his thoughts and emotions are a big mess when it comes to you. He thinks he doesn’t deserve you, that you would only get hurt with him. But yet each time he paints his stomach white while crying for you, he falls a little bit more into you.

If you caught him, he’d be very aloof and ask if you planned on just standing there. Either leave or help him out.

Sweat dripped down Eren’s toned body as he jerked his hand up and down his angry cock. Precum was weeping from his slit, and he could only dream that it was your sweet juices making his cock so wet. He threw his head back, thumping against the headboard, as he chanted your name like his favorite prayer. Hot, sticky ropes of cum fell on his stomach, cooling rapidly against his overheated skin.

Eren gulped down oxygen, trying to regain his breath as he climbed down from his high. His fist unfurled from his softening cock and fell on the bed beside him. He lifted his head slightly before banging it back against the hard wood with a loud thunk.

“Goddammit.”

You stood behind his door, cracked just a little to give you the most delicious glimpse of Eren in his afterglow. A rough voice startled you out of your ogling as intense green eyes met your doey ones.

“You plan on standing there all day, princess? Close the door and leave,” Eren grunted. “Or better yet, come here and help me out a little.”

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Reiner Braun

A gentle giant who deserves so much love. He’s been through so much, so who can blame him for wanting a little bit of stress relief.

This man is so embarrassed the first time he cums to you. He thought you were just a friend, despite everyone else saying there was more between the two of you. So when he’s fisting himself to the thought of your soft voice calling his name, he can’t look at you the next day.

He can’t help himself after that. You invade every part of his mind and his dreams and fantasies are filled with you. His favorite fantasy is you riding him, while he peppers your body in sweet kisses and praises.

If you were to catch him, he would stop instantly and try to cover himself and hide from you. His face would flush red as a tomato as he stammered out apology after apology.

It’s only when you step into his room and take his massive hand in yours does he understand the feelings are mutual.

“Reiner?” you called, looking for your friend. You walked down the dark hallway of the shack you called home. Your oldest friend was having a difficult week watching the children train and fight, so you opened your heart and home to him.

You had heard crying earlier, and wanted to make your gentle giant a soothing cup of tea and ask if there was anything you could do to help. It broke your heart seeing Reiner this way.

As you neared the door, you heard panting coming from Reiner’s room.

“Reiner!” you yelled as you opened the door, fearing the worst for your friend.

Reiner looked at you before flushing a bright tomato red. His large hands wrapped around his generously endowed length. He stammered your name and quick apologies.

You walked towards him, closing the door behind you with a swift kick. You eased his large hands away from his hard cock. Confusion swam in his eyes before you cupped his cheeks in your hands and pulled him in for a soft kiss.

“I wish I had known sooner,” you said. “You know, I’ve loved you since we were kids.”

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Armin Arlet

Overall, Armin is really quiet when he’s pumping himself. It’s not until he gets closer to his end that he’s whining your name.

Armin stays in his room. He may tease himself in the shower, but he prefers to finish in the absolute privacy of his room.

The next day, he’ll be all blushes when he sees you, but you’re so used to Armin’s quiet demeanor that you don’t really think too much of it. Maybe he just had a stomachache and needed to go.

Armin is a master manipulator. He’s possessive and competitive even if not outwardly so. His fantasies can get dark, as he thinks of ways to rig you up, edge you, and fuck you until you know nothing but his name. He dreams of ways to mark you, sweet and innocent you, as his own.

Armin is a switch. While he dreams of taking you for his own, Armin also likes to fantasize about you torturing him. He wants to be wrapped completely in you as he begs you to “please please please” let him cum.

Whines could be heard from Armin’s room through the wall. You were the only one who seemed concerned for him. Eren and the others simply snickered when you mentioned strange noises coming from Armin’s room.

“Why don’t you check on him?” Jean suggested, prompting laughter from the rest of the men.

“Since I’m the only here who seems to care about him, maybe I will,” you said defensive, before stomping your way back to Armin’s room.

You knocked once, twice, and were met with Armin’s whines of your name.

“Armin!” you cried, throwing the door open.

“No! Don’t come in!” the blonde sobbed, but it was too late. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, in full view of you with his hard cock in hand.

“Oh, baby,” you cooed, eyes holding a dangerous glint as you stalked towards Armin. “Let mommy help, okay?”

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Jean Kirstein

A little aloof and obnoxious about it. So what if he masturbates, everyone does. It’s great stress relief. Man has a point.

Jean does try to muffle his sounds. As much as he doesn’t care that people know what he’s up to, he doesn’t intend on giving a show. He also doesn’t intend on everyone knowing it’s you he’s thinking of when his hand slides up and down his long cock.

Jean likes to bite. His pillowcase and sheets are full of tears from where he bites down, wishing it was your soft skin that he was sinking his teeth into. This does help to muffle his noises.

Jean is a talker. He loves dirty talk and will talk to himself while thinking of you. His favorite fantasy is him lavishing you in praises, saying you’re such a “good girl for daddy”.

While Jean is open that he does indeed masturbate, he is very defensive if he gets caught. He tries to cover himself and make up very poor excuses.

“Hey, Jean,” you called before bouncing into your lover’s bedroom. “Have you seen my—.” The sight before you cut you off.

On his bed lay Jean. The white sheets tangled into his legs as he pumped his cock with smooth rhythmic strokes. His head thrown back and eyes clenched shut, tell-tale signs that he was reaching his end. Your name fell from lips in light praises as he called you his good girl and imagined you wrapped tightly around him, milking him. With a heavy grunt, Jean came, spraying his chest with his hot cum.

The sound of light clapping from across the room jerked him out of his afterglow. Jean turned away from you, stammering at you to get out as he pulled up his sheets to cover himself.

“But daddy,” you cooed as you walked forward, swaying your hips just the way Jean liked. “Am I not good enough for you?”

You fake pout had Jean already hard again.

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Connie Springer

An addict and everyone knows it. He is also very defensive over this, stating it’s a healthy stress relief compared to drugs or alcohol. No one can really disagree with him, so he’s left alone.

He prefers the privacy of his room, but will absolutely rub one out in the showers that may or may not be shared by the other men.

The only one who could probably hold eye contact with you the next day after you catch him. You have the same sense of humor, so that helps.

You and Connie are close friends, who spill the dirty details over everything to each other, except of course how badly you want each other. Even Mikasa can see it.

Connie has a slight savior complex. His favorite fantasy is you calling him a hero and asking how you could repay him for saving you.

“Tell me! Tell me!” you begged Connie the next morning at breakfast.

The man in question groaned at your insistence.

“Connie, we tell each other everything, ever since we were cadets, we left no secrets between us. Please, please tell me!”

“No,” Connie whined, hiding his burning face in his hands.

“You had a wet dream, and I want to know who it was about. Maybe I can help, put in a good word with them for you?” You smirked at your best friend’s growing discomfort. “Please, Connie,” you whispered. “I’ll give you half my lunch.” You hoped to bribe the man out of silence.

Connie jumped up and pounded his tight fists on the table. “You!” He shouted. “It was you!” His face grew beet red as the cafeteria occupants turned towards the racket. “It wasn’t a wet dream either.” His voice softened in embarrassment as he turned away from you.

“Oh.” You sat in silence with Connie for a few brief moments before placing a hand on his shoulder. “Do you mind showing me then?”

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Levi Ackerman

Very quiet about it. It’s a surprise to most when it comes out that he masturbates, but as Jean said, who doesn’t? Still, what he does in private is his own business, and no one dares to mention if they’ve caught him.

For him, it’s a form of stress relief, so he’s prone to rub one out in the privacy of his shower or office. Occasionally he’ll lay in bed, but really the shower is just so much easier to clean.

Levi’s favorite fantasy unsurprisingly involves a maid outfit. He’d die if he ever saw you in one, bent over and giving him the briefest peek of your panties.

Overstimulation king. This man’s refractory period is next to zero. Also very kinky.

Canonically, Levi is an awkward sub. If you caught him, he would freeze before getting angry and yelling at you to leave him alone. He would completely avoid any and all interaction with you to the best of his abilities, prompting Erwin and Hange to ask if you’ve done something to provoke him.

That’s if you didn’t take matters into your own hands. Your handsome captain is overworked, and it’s your duty to help.

“Captain!” you called as you barged into Levi’s office, only to find the man hunched over his desk, head resting on the desk with sweat dripping onto the cool wooden surface. His back heaved as he struggled to regain his breath.

“Captain! Are you okay?!” You panicked and ran towards your captain.

Levi jumped up, face completely drained of color. He blushed furiously as he processed that it was you who walked in on him in such a vulnerable state.

“No!” Levi yelped. “Don’t come any closer! Get out!”

You ignored your captain’s direct orders and reached out for him, noticing the sticky white coating his hand.

“Oh,” you giggled. “I see. I thought I had cleaned everything, but it seems I missed a spot.” You raised Levi’s hand to your lips before licking him clean. You held his icy gray eyes in your darkening gaze as you drank everything he had to offer.

You smiled as you glanced down at his cock, already hardening once again.

“Do you want help with that,” you asked coyly. “Captain?”

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Erwin Smith

This man makes a goddamn show out of the act. He is sprawled on silk sheets, sporting nothing but an untied emerald green robe that lavishly falls on either side of him.

An exhibitionist who really doesn’t care if he’s caught. In fact, he hopes you walk by and hear him moaning your name. His favorite fantasy is you walking in on him like this. His bed is facing the doorway and he’s propped against luxurious pillows just in case.

He’s also loud. LOUD. He wants to be heard.

He pampers himself before and after like a true king. His skin is soft from a fresh shower, complete with moisturizing routine. Afterwards, he’ll take a few moments to regain his breath before collecting himself to clean up. He’s very careful to get all his cum on his own body and not his robe or sheets.

An arrogant bastard, but can back himself up. He has every reason to think so highly of himself and his sexuality.

You heard the deep moans from down the hall before you even neared your commander’s bedroom. Erwin’s deep, breathy pants of your name filled the empty hallway and echoed around you. You blushed furiously as you tried to pass, making your way to your own sleeping quarters.

As you passed, you noticed the door to Erwin’s bedroom was cracked open. You had always had a thing for your Greek god of a commander, and couldn’t help yourself as you peeked in through the open door.

You watched Erwin stroke himself, his perfect hand sculpted by Michelangelo himself moving up and down on his thick cock.

Erwin came with a deep grown of your name, as he painted his chiseled chest white. The sounds of Erwin’s ecstasy hitting you straight in your core as your own sex pulsed with need.

“Ah!” Erwin called, a dangerous glint in his ocean eyes. “Just the person I wanted to see!”

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction would bring it back.

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Bonus: Dick HCS

Eren: Above average in girth and length. He’s full of lean muscle and his dick matches. He has a nice curve too.

Reiner: Very well endowed. He’s a giant and his dick suits him. He’ll stretch you nicely and hit your cervix every time.

Armin: Just above average, but he worries he’s small. You remind him that he fits you just right.

Jean: longer than average, but of average girth. He’s a little self conscious of himself until you call him “daddy” and praise his cock.

Connie: average but knows how to use it and please you

Levi: this short king is packing and you know it

Erwin: a monster and he knows it. This man is unpacking a slip-n-slide every time he takes his pants off.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□

[howlingday]

"Hey, Renny?"

"Mm?" Ren didn't turn from his position of cutting potatoes for tonight's meal. His childhood friend, Nora was tapping two meat tenderizers together, pretending they were lovers. She did this often in the stone kitchen, especially when the other servants were elsewhere in the castle.

"Do you think Jauney is happy?"

Ren blinked, then set down the knife. He turned to face her. Nora was sitting on the ground, wearing her black Ursa pelt over her shoulders, two meat tenderizers in her calloused hands. "What do you mean, Nora?"

"I mean, ever since Pyrrha," Nora made an uncomfortable face, "you know, Jauney has been really grumpy. Our fights aren't as fun anymore, he doesn't laugh at my jokes, and he's been especially angry at the people at his royal court."

Ren sighed. "Lord Arc has been under a lot of stress, Nora. He is the lord of these lands, and he doesn't have as much time to enjoy himself since winter is due in only a few months."

"Hm..." Nora tapped her chin in thought. "What if we buy him a whore?"

Ren blinked, then returned to his potatoes. "...No."

"Well, I'm stumped!" Nora stood as she exclaimed. "He has all this stress, but he can't get it out. It's not healthy!"

"I wouldn't worry about it, Nora. The harvest festival will be soon, Lord Arc will find have fun, and he will go back to his usual self." Ren grabbed the good potato slices from the cutting board and placed them in the pot of water. He slid the rest into a separate bowl with his knife.

Nora set the meat tenderizers on the stone counter. "Okay, but if he's still grouchy after the festival, I'm buying him the best whore lien can buy!"

"You're going to buy who what?"

Ren froze in place as the familiar voice spoke. He turned, facing the lord if this castle and his employer. He looked the same as he did when they first met; deep, blue eyes, under a mop of shaggy, golden hair and above a chin of golden stubble, and wearing a black Beowolf hide over his shoulders, hiding his muscular.

"Oh, hi, Jauney!" Nora jumped with joy.

"L-Lord Arc!" Ren gave a deep bow, hiding his blush from being embarrassed. "What a pleasant surprise! To what do we owe this honor?"

Jaune passed a glance between the two, silently judging them. He then smirked, reminding Ren that, though he was his lord, he was also a cherished friend. "What's this about buying a whore?"

Ren's face continued to flare. How much of the conversation did he hear? Ren lifted his head to face his lord, and saw his amused grin. Ren sighed before speaking once more. "We were just discussing our shared concern for your well-being, Lord Arc. Nora was simply providing a solution for your stress."

"By buying me a whore?"

"Yes!" Nora proudly exclaimed.

"N-No, my lord!" Ren countered.

Jaune simply laughed. "So which is it? Am I getting a whore or not?"

"I-" Ren choked out.

"Lord Arc," came a cry from another room, "are you here, sire?!"

Jaune sighed. "Sounds like more bad news. Before I leave, what do you think it might be?"

Nora answered before Ren could speak. "Maybe one of those creeps are coming for a visit again."

"Now, Nora," Jaune chided, "just because Queen Salem's Inner Circle are unlike us, it doesn't mean that they are to be treated any less than us."

"But they are creepy! Especially that stinger-guy!"

Jaune was silent for a moment of thought. "I suppose you're not wrong there."

"Perhaps, Lord Arc, the whores have caught wind of our plans?" Ren asked with a small smile.

Jaune barked a laugh. "Maybe they did!" He sighed before stepping towards the exit. "I'll go see about the shouting." He suddenly stopped a few steps from the door. "Oh, but before I leave, what is tonight's supper?"

"Tonight, you are having chicken stew with carrots, potatoes, and onions." Ren answered, filled with the confidence fitting of the Lord Arc's personal cook.

"Sounds good! Nora, are you coming with?"

"On my way, Jauney!" Nora skipped to Ren and kissed his cheek. "Bye, Renny! Jauney and I are gonna go get bad news!" Nora then skipped out of the kitchen, following her lord.

Ren sighed and returned to his task. One day, someone's going to have a problem with Nora's casual attitude. Until then, however, Ren would mind to his cooking.

Jaune made his way to the main hall, where the shouting was coming from. He walked in and found his messenger, Russel open his mouth to shout once more, only to shut it upon seeing his lord. The young man was wearing an undecorated black Grimm pelt, a sign showing that though he was a member of lord Arc's defense, he had yet to prove himself worthy of any notable position.

"Yeah, I heard you. Are we under attack?"

"Have the whores caught wind?" Nora asked as she stepped in.

"I- what?" Russel asked in confusion. He then shook his head. "No, my lord, I have just recieved word of a small force on their way to the castle."

"How small?" Jaune asked.

"Just three; a man and two women."

Nora scoffed. "Just two women? Please! I'm ten times worth any woman!"

"Y-Yes, but there's more."

"More?" Jaune asked.

"Yes, my lord. You see, the woman leading them is described as a raven-haired maiden in a red dress."

Jaune clenched his teeth, and felt his breath grow shallower. "What color were here eyes?"

Russel swallowed the lump in his throat before answering. "From whatever men survived their encounter with her, described her as a witch with amber eyes."

"Jaune-"

"Nora," Jaune interrupted, "alert the rest of the castle. I want everyone ready for whatever happens next."

Nora nodded. "Yes, my lord!" Russel paled further. When dame Nora, the most crass of Jaune's closest charges and his right hand, spoke formally to lord Arc, he knew the danger was real.

"Russel," Jaune spoke, breaking the messenger out of his stupor. "What did you mean by, 'whatever men survived their encounter'?"

Cinder yawned as she passed through the hamlet on her steed. The black beast bellowed smoke from it's ember-lit maw as it trudged forward. Emerald glanced between her lady and the people who cowered in their houses. Mercury grinned with delight as he watched people flinched at meeting his gaze.

When he saw a pretty girl, his grin shifted to a wide, predatory smile. They would weep at the sight of this, hiding behind their husbands, fathers, and brothers with the same amount of fear. He chuckled every time.

"Mercury," Cinder spoke, "what do you think you're doing?" She didn't meet his eyes when he looked up. She faced forward, her face as indifferent as it was when they entered the hamlet.

"I'm just having fun." He defended.

"Your 'fun' is upsetting our beast. Continue," her gaze finally met his, amber eyes alight with wrath, "and I will have my fun with you." Mercury flinched and faced forward. "Besides, you'll have plenty of time for fun once we reach Arc's hovel."

"Does he know we're coming, ma'am?" Emerald asked.

"I have sent more than enough messages to ensure that he will greet us personally."

"And if he doesn't?"

Cinder looked around. Every door was shut. Every window filled with at least one person. Every home with a family as small as two people or as big as four generations. She smiled.

"Then I'll just have to send a bigger message."

Nora stood outside the gates, the cold autumn wind biting her skin. She liked this, though. It reminded her that she was hardy, tougher than the supposed "ladies" who would rather hide and let someone else fight their battles.

She looked up and saw gray clouds combining, gathering together to choke out whatever blue and light remained in the sky. It was going to rain soon, but again, she didn't care. If she became sick, she would just power through it, like she did all things. Plus, Ren would wait on her, hand and foot, as he always did before. She smiled at the thought.

The sound of running footsteps returned her focus to the road leading to the castle. Another messenger showed up, this time with singed clothes. What was his name again? Duck?

"Reports from the nearby village; two-"

"Women and one man are approaching the castle." Nora interrupted. "Yeah, we heard."

"The woman leading them was also riding a black monster we've never seen before! What do we do?"

Nora looked him up and down. He was pudgy, kind of short compared to Ren and Jaune. He wore an unmarked Grimm pelt like the other one, except his was burnt, and slightly smoldering. She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. "Go inside, get cleaned up, and get ready to fight."

"Yes, dame!" He rushed past her after giving a salute. She hated formality, especially getting them.

It has been three years since the day she "earned" her title. She remembers because it was given to her by the Black Queen herself as a reward for turning her back on everything she cared for. Two nights after she and Jaune surrendered to her after that monster murdered her best friend, Pyrrha.

Nora pulled out a spyglass and peered down the road. No one was approaching. Nora began grinding her teeth. She put away the spyglass and turned towards the castle.

"Looking for someone?"

Nora turned towards the voice. The voice of the murderer from that night. Atop a Grimm twice her size, sat Lady Cinder Fall in her red dress with golden accents. She had a wry smile on her face, like a tyrant out of a fairy tale after telling them their hero had died. Like she had after slaughtering her friends.

"No." Nora answered, glaring at the murderer. "I was looking for something, and then you showed up."

"Referring to a lady as a thing?" The assassin to Cinder's right said. "Sounds like treason if you ask me."

"No one asked you. Besides, what I was going to ask you was, 'how's your knees?' You know, after I broke them?" Mercury stepped forward, but a snap of Cinder's fingers brought him to heel.

The woman stepped forward instead. "We request-"

"Demand, Emerald." Cinder corrected.

"-Demand an audience with Lord Jaune Arc. Is he available?"

Nora eyed the woman carefully. She didn't remember seeing her. Was she there that night, or did she join after that? "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Emerald repeated.

"Uh-huh."

Cinder slid from her steed and stepped towards Nora. "There's no need to be rude." She checked her fingernails. "After all, we're all on the same side, right? We both pledged our loyalty to Queen Salem, no?" She lowered her head to be level with Nora's, smiling. "I mean, unless you feel another example should be made."

"Like burning more of our messengers?"

"Like burning another champion."

Nora reeled back a fist. Mercury crouched like a wound spring, while Emerald drew her twin, curved blades. As the Grimm began salivating a glowing red liquid from it's maw, Nora swung forward.

And Cinder kept smiling.

"Lady Fall!" A voice called from behind, stopping Nora from connecting her punch. Nora turned and saw Jaune walking out from the castle gates, arms wide open and a smile on his face. "I wish you had contacted sooner! The castle is an absolute mess, and there's only enough food for one helping for the four of us."

Cinder stepped around Nora and approached Jaune with the same gesture. Nora watched as they hugged. "I do apologize, Lord Arc, but our matter was so urgent, it had to be done without much warning. Why, I recieved the news before the crow of this morning's rooster!" The two shared a laugh. "And don't worry about dinner, we won't be long."

Jaune wrapped an arm around Cinder's shoulder and guided her inside. "And send you home on empty stomachs? Oh, no! I insist! Come, my cook was preparing a delicious chicken stew."

"Can you stew a chicken, Lord Arc?"

"I can't, but my cook can!" The laughter echoed from inside.

"Don't wait up." Mercury taunted as he stepped past. Emerald followed quietly. Nora eyed the Grimm as it stood there. She turned and walked inside.

She hated formalities, but she hated this even more.

Lady Cinder Fall, protege and student of Black Queen Salem, was impressed by the dinner. The dining hall itself, though not as large as her majesty's, was certainly large enough to house an army. And based on the large number of occupants currently eating before her, it did.

Cinder sat at a long table next to Lord Arc, her other side occupied by Emerald and Mercury, and Lord Arc's side occupied by his two lackeys, the girl from outside and some burly meathead he never met. In front of her were rows of soldiers, messengers, guards, and castle staff eating from their plates and bowls.

"More wine?" The young man in a green robe asked, holding a bottle of red wine. He looked as young as Lord Arc, and had a pink strip of hair in his bangs.

"No, thank you." Cinder presented a soft smile.

"I'll have some!" Mercury said, shaking his empty glass.

Cinder rolled her eyes and turned to Lord Arc. He sat quietly, looking out to his subjects with smile. His glass and bowl were empty, save for a few drops remaining of his wine and soup. "Lord Arc," Cinder began, immediately getting his attention, "regarding the important business we must discuss."

"Oh, of course. But can it wait until after dinner?" Lord Arc asked. "It's like my father once said; 'politics only aid indigestion.' And considering this is urgent news from her majesty herself, it could only be something political, right?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Her majesty, Black Queen Salem, has tasked me to deliver a message for you."

"Oh? And what might this message entail?"

"Queen Salem requests to know your intentions as Lord of the eastern coast."

"I... I'm afraid I don't understand the question." Lord Arc grew tense, she could tell. She could also see how close his protectors were listening in. "When Queen Salem graced me with the task of acting as lord of Vale's eastern coast, I thought I was to simply act as she would have me."

"Yes, but she's curious as to your endgame. Surely, you don't intend to simply live the rest of your life alone with no legacy; no songs of great deeds left to outlast you twice over?"

"...Lady Fall, I'm flattered, but I'm afraid I'm just not ready for your proposal to wed."

Cinder laughed. It was fake, but she tried to make it sound genuine. "Oh no, Lord Arc! This isn't a marriage proposal. But her majesty is concerned you may not be... up to the task."

"Is this a question of my loyalty?"

"Perhaps," she smirked, "but I feel a test is more appropriate."

The sound of liquid splashing suddenly caught Lord Arc's attention. He stood over Cinder and he gritted his teeth. Wearing her smile, she turned to watch as Mercury poured a third bottle of wine onto the servant's head. His hair was soaked and matted as he continued to bow.

"Damn, out again." Mercury said in a bored tone. "What was this wine called again?"

"The Rouge Rogue, sir." The servant replied. "Aged for twenty years from the-"

"Boring!" Mercury cracked the bottle over the servant's head. He fell with a thump, the bottle shattering and cutting his scalp.

"REN!" The girl screamed as she rose, unknowingly signaling the rest of the castle to not only rise as well, but rise with weapons in their hands. The soldiers and guards rose with swords and axes, while the servants, both too young to speak clearly and too old to stand without a cane, held forks and knives in their hands. "I'LL KILL YOU, YOU SONUVA-!"

"SILENCE!"

Everyone froze in place and stared as Lord Arc, master of this castle, roared his prominence. His face was red with rage, but his hands, held aloft, were stiff. The crowd was silent, save for Mercury, who just laughed. Jaune stepped from the table and approached him.

"Clean that up."

"Is this guy serious?" Mercury said. "I'm an agent of Black Queen Salem, the most powerful creature who ever lived, and he thinks he can give me orders?" He then spit on Lord Arc's face. "Touch me, and I'll burn this whole damn castle to the ground. Hell, might have some fun doing it, too!"

Lord Arc turned towards Cinder. She continued to smile. "Don't look at me, Lord Arc. It's as he says; he's an agent of Salem. Harming him will have consequences from her majesty herself."

Lord Arc faced Mercury once more. "Is that true? You serve only Salem?"

"Pfft!" Mercury scoffed. "No shit, dumbass! I don't serve 'Lady' Cinder, or you! The only person I answer to is Black Queen Salem herself."

"I see. That will make this so much easier."

"Make what easier?"

"This." Lord Arc backhanded Mercury and sent him sprawling to the ground. He spit out a tooth as he got to his hands and knees. "Apologize."

"Y-You can't hit me!" Mercury staggered to his feet. "I serve-!"

Lord Arc backhanded him again, this time sending him over the table. The servant named Ren stood by the table and watched silently, his hand covering his bleeding scalp. Lord Arc glanced to him. "Take some servants and return to the kitchen. Have your wounds tended."

"Y-Yes, my lord!" The wounded servant signaled to the other servants and five of then set down their utensils to before rushing to tend to his wounds.

Lord Arc returned his attention to Mercury. "Apologize." Mercury murmured as he rose to his knees. "Apologize." Lord Arc repeated sternly.

Mercury Black kneeled before Lord Jaune Arc, his head bowed. "I am sorry, my lord. I repent and beg that you forgive me."

"You are a murderer and coward. You attacked my castle, murdered my subjects, and aided in the assassination of my fiancee. I can't remember how many times I hit you that night, but it was never enough to make you stop. And now you come to my home again to commit the same crimes, only to bend your knee at only two strikes."

Cinder's smile had grown to a predatory grin as she watched Lord Arc pass judgement on Mercury. Her keen eyes saw what led to this moment as well. This was what she came here to see.

"Mercury Black, in your path of bloodshed to your current standing as an agent of the Black Queen, you have proven that you have only grown more cowardly and pathetic in your services." Lord Arc grabbed Mercury by his hair. "Return to Salem, and tell her of your failures. Only then will you be forgiven." He then pushed Mercury away, tears streaming down the assassin's face. He looked to Cinder. "I believe it would be best for you to leave."

"Must we, though?" Cinder replied. "You would send is back in the middle of the night, storm clouds brewing above as we speak, with only myself and Emerald capable of fending for ourselves?"

Lord Arc held a pained face of guilt. Good. That will make things much easier.

Jaune stood on his balcony and watched as the storm clouds rolled across the sky. As Lady- No, as Cinder predicted, the sky was black, with no moon or stars to shine. Thunder bellowed in the distance as lightning flashed in the clouds. No rain, though.

He sighed and looked to his land. Everything was dark, so he could not see far, but what he could see pained him. He saw the tree where he would spend his summer days napping. The same tree where he met her.

He stepped away from the balcony and into his chambers. He walked to his bed and glanced at his weapon to it's side. He nodded to it's presence and sat on his bed. He replayed the night's events in his head.

He started from checking on his longtime friend in the kitchen. His wounds were cleaned and treated. All that was left was for time to heal. When Nora stomped in full of rage, Ren calmed her as best as he could. He felt guilty allowing his friends to suffer as they had, even when Ren noticed and told him not to.

Before that, he had to see to his guest's quarters. Mercury had not yet broken from his adjustment, which Jaune felt neither pity nor shame. Perhaps the punishment will be enough to change him for the better. Cinder and her fellow female companion aided in bringing him to their room. What was her name? She was so quiet at dinner, but she was close enough to Cinder to sit next to her at dinner.

Regardless, Cinder stated the quarters were satisfactory for the night. Once confident in their comfort, Jaune exited to allow them to rest. He didn't care for their company, but as Lord of the castle, he would serve only to anger his queen by leaving her inner circle to fend for themselves in the storm and darkness.

A knock on his chamber door awoke him from his reminiscing. He hurried to the door and opened it, finding an unexpected visitor.

"G-Good evening, Lord Arc." The young woman of green hair from before spoke nervously in her white nightgown. Perhaps his display earlier had frightened her, or maybe his very presence simply put her on edge. Nonetheless, he greeted her kindly.

"Good evening," he replied. "I apologize, but I don't believe I caught your name."

"My name is Emerald. Emerald Sustrai, Lord Arc." She was nervous. Though, with Summer's End so close, it would not be surprising that she was cold as well. "I wished to have a word with you."

"This couldn't wait until morning? It's late, and it has been a long day for us both, I'm sure."

"Yes, but I wished to discuss what happened today with you, if you don't mind." Jaune looked around the corners, seeing no guards. Only torches lit along the walls. "May I come in?"

Jaune rubbed his chin, and felt stubble. He hummed to himself a little at the feeling. Had it really been so long since he last shaved. He then sighed, remembering his guest, and stepped aside, gesturing with an arm for her to enter. As she entered, Jaune caught a faint scent of lavender from her. He hummed once more, then shut the door.

"What did you want to talk about?" Jaune asked as casually as possible. It would be best to keep her at ease. "Your trip, your mission, or-"

"I wanted to ask about your semblance."

Jaune blinked. "My semblance?"

"Y-Yes. You used your semblance on Merc earlier, and I wanted to know how it worked."

"To find a weakness?" Jaune asked with caution. He stepped towards his bed, not revealing his back to her once.

"No! It's just..." Emerald gulped. Was she sent to spy on him?

"Just what?" Jaune repeated. "The only times people want to know about the abilities of another is to either gloat their superiority, or to exploit a weakness from a gullible opponent."

"W-What if I told you mine? Just to make us even?" Jaune seated himself on his bed. He then waved for Emerald to continue with his hand. Emerald sighed and held out her hand. Her eyes focused on it. Suddenly, as though from nowhere, a flower grew from her palm. It was a small lavender, in size and shape, but it casted no shadow as Jaune watched. Emerald stepped forward and help the delicate plant in front him. Jaune tried to pluck it, but it died in his fingers, fading away as he touched it.

"Illusion." Jaune stated. "Your semblance tricks a foe with an illusion you desire them to see." He chuckled. "It's certainly impressive, but judging by your breathing, it requires a lot of concentration to maintain."

"And... what of yours, Lord Arc?" She said, still catching her breath. "That was... no illusion... that made Merc bow to you."

"Supremacy." Jaune answered. "When I strike an opponent's aura, their will ebbs away, eventually forcing them to submit to me. Depending on how strong one's will is, I will either have to hit them once, or multiple times."

Emerald gulped. "I... I see."

"Now that I've answered your question, I have a question for you." Jaune stood, his frame towering over Emerald, his blue eyes squinting. "What are you doing in my room so late in the night, Emerald Sustrai?"

Emerald didn't speak. She didn't dare look in his eyes. Was her plan found out? It was supposed to be a simple in and out reconnaissance mission. All she had to do was get information on Lord Arc's semblance and report back to Cinder. She wasn't prepared to fight; she left her weapons in her room, concerned she wouldn't have been able to hide them from the man. Now, she was vulnerable.

"Are you going to answer me?" Emerald remained frozen, like a rabbit in a tiger's cage. "Would you like for me to answer for you? Nod if you do."

Emerald wanted to shake her head, if only to be given more time to think of a lie. But she didn't. Like a fool, she nodded.

Lord Arc circled around her. "I'll bet you thought you were clever. Sneaking in, taking what you came for, and then retreating to celebrate your conquest." He stopped in front of her. "But you made one mistake in coming here." Emerald shut her eyes, expecting the worst.

She heard the bed squeak. "I'm just not in the mood." Emerald opened her eyes and saw Lord Arc lounging back on his bed. "Don't get me wrong; you're certainly beautiful, and on almost any other night, I would have ravaged you until all I could think was lavender, but I'm just not interested."

Emerald stood there, blinking. "Er, so you're saying I'm here to...?"

"Are you not a whore?"

Emerald's cheeks flushed. "Wh- No!" She didn't mean to scream, but she couldn't control herself due to the indignity of it. True, she is a liar, a thief, and, in some instances, a murderer, but never a streetwalker. "I'm not a whore!"

Lord Arc sat up. "Then why are you here?"

Emerald cursed herself. Her pride got the better of her. She coughed into her fist as she spoke again. "W-What I mean is, I don't think of myself as a whore. I prefer the term... escort."

Lord Arc's cheeks flushed. "Oh, I am so sorry! I... I had always heard it spoken as- W-Well, in any case, I humbly apologize."

Emerald saw an opportunity. "W-Well, you should! I can't believe your friends paid me so well to 'entertain' you, only for you to insult me!" She turned her back to him and stepped towards the chamber door.

"Wait," Lord Arc called out, "before you go, allow me to apologize in full." Lord Arc reached into a location she didn't see and heard him walk behind her with a jingle in his hands. He placed a hand on her left shoulder and moved his right hand to in front of her, a hefty bag of coins in his palm. "I hope you can forgive me for my rudeness."

Emerald took the coins. "Hm, I'll consider it." She then kissed his cheek. "But only because you're so kind." She then stepped out of his chambers and down the hall, sashaying her behind for show, certain his eyes were on her until she turned the corner. She then sighed in relief.

"This better be worth the trouble." She whispered to no one.

[fruitcoops]

hiii i've just spent the last 36-48 hours reading your works and oh dear do i lOVE your writing and this universe :') . i dont know if you are taking requests but i think it would be kinda interesting (and low key hilarious) if you would write the lions reacting/reading thirst tweets? idk if this is a dumb idea or not but just like some of them reacting to them and going "well i'm actually gay/married so.. no!.. but thank you!"

Part two of the six-month celebration, everyone! Thank you thank you THANK YOU to everyone who submitted comments--I had over 60 come in, and while I couldn’t include them all, reading them was a true joy. The Lion Pride channel was something I started writing on a whim; I never expected it to grow like this <3 Much love to all of you!

TW for alcohol mentions and thirst tweets (nothing explicit)

“Why do I always fear for my life around you?” Sirius asked as Marlene settled into a cushy chair to the side of their table.

She smiled, catlike, and crossed her legs primly. “Because only Finn appreciates me.”

“That’s just the Aries connection, Cap,” Finn said with a smug grin.

“We’re both Leos, Harzy.”

“Eh, close enough.”

Remus raised an eyebrow at her. “You should probably start asking questions before this devolves further, Marley. He’s gonna keep digging himself a hole and we won’t get anything done.”

Marlene’s smile returned with a vengeance. “That’s where you’re wrong, Loops! We’re not doing any questions at all today.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Read it and weep.” She tossed a small posterboard at him like a frisbee; he caught it, barely, though both Talker and Sirius had to duck out of the way. Marlene faced the camera and winked. “Welcome back to Lion Pride, everyone! Today I’m here with Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Thomas Walker, and our wonderful cubs to react to your comments on our videos!”

“Bet you thought we’d never see ‘em, huh?” James asked.

“The comments fall into four categories: thirsty, funny, mean, and sweet. I will be reading two of those groups, and my lovely fiancée will be reading the others because she is the human embodiment of sunshine.”

“If you make Dorcas read the mean ones, I’ll be sad,” Leo laughed.

Marlene gave him a look of disbelief. “You think I’m passing up a chance to roast you guys? Puh-lease. We’re starting off strong with some thirsty, thirsty comments! Loops, you’re up first.”

“This is going to be fun,” Sirius said, leaning back in his chair.

She cleared her throat, then turned a smoldering look on their table. “I didn’t know I had a freckle kink, but then Remus Lupin appeared and now here we are.”

“Oh, shit,” Remus muttered, covering his face with his hands as the others howled with laughter.

“Lupin has been looking sexy as hell on the bench for years now. I'm so glad people are simping over him like he deserves,” Marlene read. “And there’s a little heart emoji, just for you.”

“This is every one of my nightmares come to life,” Remus said, though his voice was muffled by his forearms.

James lifted his glasses to swipe away the tears of mirth that had gathered in his eyes. “Are you kidding? This is everything I have ever wanted.”

“Y’know, it is so good to see people drooling over this hot piece of ass at last,” Finn sighed, reaching over to ruffle Remus’ hair as his face turned bright red.

“One more, and it’s a good one,” Marlene warned. She licked her lips, then had to take a moment to laugh before speaking. “I feel like Remus Lupin is the type of guy to bake you muffins—”

“Accurate,” Leo said.

“—but is also a kinky motherfucker.”

Remus’ mouth dropped open as the table erupted into cheering. Logan pumped both fists in the air and Sirius was laughing so hard no sound came out; Talker sank so low in his chair that only his head and shoulders were visible as he applauded.

“Why do people comment these things?” Remus asked, barely above a whisper. “Holy fuck, I’m engaged!”

“Speaking of…” Marlene raised her eyebrows and Sirius smile drooped.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes. Buckle up, Cap!” She rolled her shoulders out. “Get someone who looks at you the way Sirius Black looks at a hockey puck.”

Remus snorted; James’ laugh was so short and sharp that it set everyone else off as well. “That sounds like I have a hockey puck fetish!” Sirius complained. “Which is so, so not true!”

Finn made an ‘ehh’ noise, and he leaned around Remus to smack the back of his head. “Hey!”

“Next one!” Marlene announced. “Sirius Black was my bi awakening.”

A beat of silence passed. “Is that it?” Sirius ventured, looking nervous.

“Yep.”

“Aw, man, that one’s lame,” Talker said, shaking his head. “Everyone thinks Cap is a little hot.”

Remus shot him a look. “A little?”

“Fair. Marley, I dare you to find one person who wouldn’t tap that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Me, though that dovetails nicely into the last one for our lovely captain. Ahem. I understand why Remus is with Sirius: he's hot as hell and rich, I'd hit that too.”

“Oh, fuck, you’re right,” Leo gasped. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Finn and Logan turned to him in unison with a mix of disbelief and offense written all over their faces. “Dude.”

“First of all, Leo, you found yourself two hot rich boys,” Remus interrupted. “Second, that comment is forgetting that he’s funny, and smart, and nice, and—”

Seconds after the initial cover, Sirius took his hand off Remus’ mouth as if he’d been burned. “Did you just lick me?”

“Moving on! This is in all caps, so be prepared.” Marlene shuffled through her posterboards and turned to Leo with an ominous smile. He glanced toward the camera in mild fear. “What does a person have to do to get some hockey player ass?! Like why is Leo Knut so fine?!”

“Amen!” Logan called as Leo blushed.

“According to six of the seven people at this table, the answer to that first question is to be a hockey player,” Talker laughed. “The world may never know the answer to the second, sadly.”

“Lily could play hockey,” James said, resting his chin on his hand. Every single one of the others rolled their eyes. “She could! She’d be so good at it, too.”

“We know,” Finn groaned. “You only mention it every other day.”

“Speaking of the lovely Mrs. Potter,” Marlene began with a sly look as she held up a new card. “Do James and Lily Potter need a third? Asking for me specifically.”

James paused, dumbstruck, while the others drummed their hands on the table. “…no?”

A general sigh of disappointment went up. “I was really hoping he’d say yes,” Leo said.

“Ask Lily next time,” Remus recommended.

James turned to him and blinked slowly. “What are you insinuating, Loops?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Don’t worry, James, you’ll like this one,” Marlene assured him. “James Potter is the ultimate dilf.”

“You’re damn right I am!” James whooped. “Vindication, bitches!”

“Marley, what have you done?” Talker whispered. “He’ll never shut up about that, now.”

“Oh, never,” James all but cackled. “I’m officially a dilf, you guys!”

“I hate you,” Sirius groaned.

“Tremzy, are you ready? We’ve got a couple very special ones for you,” Marlene said.

“Anything to get us out of this hell,” Logan begged.

“In that case: Logan Tremblay’s ass is better than Sidney Crosby’s. I said what I said.”

A pleased flush rose to his cheeks as Finn and Leo high-fived over his head. “Really? Thank you!”

“And they would be correct!” Finn announced. “Best ass in the league.”

“Come on,” Remus scoffed, though he was smiling.

Marlene cleared her throat to get their attention. “I don’t think I can legally read this on air without being censored or getting the video taken down, but…”

She turned the board around; all seven of them leaned forward to read it, then slowly looked at Logan, who turned vivid red. “Mon dieu. Is that—someone commented that on a video? Like, for people to see?”

“I feel like I need to bleach my eyes,” Sirius said just as Finn began shaking with silent laughter.

Leo’s face fell. “You wrote that, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Finn wheezed, scooting forward to fist-bump Marlene. “We wanted to see what you guys would say. Fuckin’ hell, your faces.”

“Alright, Talkie, are you ready?” Marlene asked around her laughter. “Seeing Thomas Walker with a baby makes me want to have his babies…please hit me up.”

He held up his index finger and took a second to laugh before responding. “If that’s Noelle, yes. If that’s anyone else, I’m flattered, but absolutely not.”

Logan made a face. “Ew.”

“We have two more,” Marlene warned. “For some very special people that aren’t here today, but I think you’ll like them anyway.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “I don’t trust the look on your face.”

“Daddy Dumo makes me swoon.”

A muddle of horrified noises echoed through the studio as all seven of them cringed. “Oh, my god, that’s my dad!” Logan yelped, covering his ears. Sirius looked vaguely ill and Remus’ shoulders crept toward his ears; James shuddered.

“The worst part is, we all know he can get it,” Finn said with a grimace. “God, I feel like I just heard someone talking about my parents having sex.”

“I’m sure he’ll love to hear that,” Marlene laughed. “Last one, from one of our truth or drinks.”

Remus went pale half a second too late. “N—”

“Hope Lupin is a milf.”

A broken noise escaped his mouth and he clamped his hand over it while Talker rubbed his back in sympathy. Sirius shook his head. “Somehow, that’s worse than Dumo’s.”

“Whoever sent that in, show some respect!” Leo said indignantly as Remus bonked his forehead against the table. “Hope Lupin is a lovely woman!”

“I think they noticed that particular fact,” Marlene pointed out, earning herself several scandalized shouts of her name and a whine from Remus. “That’s all we have for thirst comments! Are you ready for some funny ones?”

“Anything,” Remus pleaded. “I am begging you, anything else.”

Marlene shook her head as she stood, still smiling, and kissed Dorcas on the cheek when she entered the frame. “Go for it, love.”

“Dorcas!” they all cheered, lighting up immediately.

“Hey, guys, it’s been a while!” She curled up in Marlene’s vacant spot and took her own posterboards out from underneath the seat. “Alright, let’s rock and roll. Pascal Dumais is the team dad and nothing will change my mind, and Tremzy is the annoying youngest child.”

“That is so accurate,” Sirius laughed, leaning just out of range of Logan’s playful punch. “Whoever commented that has no idea how right they are.”

“We’ve got a whole sibling dynamic thing going on,” Talker agreed. “Tremzy’s the baby of the family, Cap is the quietly chaotic middle child, and Pots is the older brother that starts shit and inevitably gets blamed for however out-of-control it gets.”

Dorcas nodded. “You are one hundred percent correct. In a similar vein: Pots was the dad jokes friend before he was even a dad.”

“Painfully so,” Leo confirmed, shaking his head as they all groaned in agreement. James looked rather smug about the whole thing. “So many puns.”

“Oh, you’ll like this one,” Dorcas mused as she drew a new card. “If Tremzy looked directly into my eyes for even two seconds, all of my problems would be solved. I am sure of it.”

“Yes,” Finn and Leo said in unison.

“It’s something about the eyes, I think,” James added. “They just stand out so much that it’s a little startling straight-on.”

Logan looked to the camera and stared at it, unblinking; it zoomed in slightly on his face. “Everything will be fine,” he said with mock solemnity. “Your problems are solved.”

“Well, that was terrifying,” Sirius said drily. “Got any more for us, Ms. Meadowes?”

“Of course I do! We’ve got quite a few for Loops and Leo.” She took a sip of her water before getting comfortable again. “My favorite thing about these videos is that we can all see Loops get steadily buffer as the season goes on. Good for you, king!”

“Flex! Flex! Flex!” the six of them chanted; Remus rolled his eyes, but slid his sweater sleeve to his elbow and flexed his forearm, resulting in enough hoots and hollers that they could probably be heard a block away. Talker fake-swooned into Leo’s arms and Remus lightly whacked him on the shoulder.

“Remus Lupin looks like he has squishable cheeks,” Dorcas read aloud.

“He does!” James cooed, scooting over and reaching out.

Remus narrowed his eyes. “I swear to god I’ll bite you.”

Sirius cupped his face between his palms and kissed his nose, then pinched both his cheeks gently. “Ta-da!”

“How many of these do we have?” Remus asked, though his voice was a bit muffled by Sirius’ hands.

“Just one more for you, and it’s my personal favorite.” Dorcas assured him. “I love how the team probably had no impulse control until Loops joined.”

Sirius let go of his face and dissolved into laughter as Finn nearly fell on the floor. “Oh my—you think he has impulse control?” Talker slapped the edge of the table as he shook his head. “Absolutely not. Hell no, Loops is the first person to do stupid shit with us.”

“Yeah, I just don’t get caught,” Remus added around his own laughter. “Everyone thinks I’m such a hardass goody-two-shoes and it lets me get away with so much more than you delinquents.”

“Speaking of delinquents,” Dorcas continued. “This one is from our ‘Taste Testing Sexy Alcohol’ video: ah, yes, now I know how to do a body shot. 10/10, very educational video.”

“Do not take educational advice from us,” Finn blurted instantly. “I know this is a joke, but please exercise caution. That video was a ton of fun but a nightmare to recover from.”

Sirius winced at the memory. “I took two naps and then wished for death for a full day.”

“On a lighter note, who’s ready for some Knutty appreciation?” Dorcas smiled at her cards. “I've only had Leo Knut for a season and half, but if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.”

“Big mood,” four of them said simultaneously.

Leo turned to the camera with a concerned look on his face. “That’s a meme reference, but are y’all okay?”

“No,” Dorcas answered. “Especially not this next person: Sometimes I do something productive and then I remember @LeoKnut is a 19 year old professional athlete who radiates happiness and with two of the hottest boyfriends the good lord has made, and then my bowl of packaged ramen seems less impressive.”

“I’m proud of your ramen,” Leo said, even as the corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. “And I appreciate the note about my boyfriends, because they are definitely the hottest people the good lord has made.”

Talker stuck his lip out in a pout. “Rude.”

“Sorry, Talkie, I’m biased.”

“Last one before Marlene comes back, so you’d better enjoy it!” Dorcas announced. “Did the Lions effectively utilize girl power when they wrecked toxic masculinity, yes or yes?”

“Can we utilize girl power?” Remus wondered, resting his shin on his hand. “Isn’t that exclusively for, y’know, women?”

“We can utilize himbo power,” Finn suggested.

James gave him an offended look. “Not all of us are himbos!”

“Okay, but you definitely are.”

“I am not!” James held up his fingers to count. “There are only, like, three qualifications, right? I might be strong, hot, and respectful, but I’m not dumb so it doesn’t count!”

“Pots,” Remus said quietly, hiding his smile for half a second. “Buddy, that was four things.”

James paused, then sighed in resignation. “Ah, fuck, I’m a himbo.”

“You really are.”

“At least we don’t promote toxic masculinity.”

They raised their waterbottles in a ‘cheers’ motion as Marlene and Dorcas switched spots; Marlene stretched her arms over her head and grabbed the new boards. “I’m back, beloved himbos. Talker, Leo, you are beloved by the people and have no mean comments. Cap, we’re starting with you.”

“Are they actually mean mean?” he asked.

“Sirius Black seems like a little bitch. Not in a bad way, necessarily. He just. Seems like he'd be a little bitch."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Oh, okay. That answers one question.”

“He’s not a little bitch,” Leo said. “Pouty on occasion, but not a little bitch.”

Remus gave him a long look, then shook his head. “Yeah, I mean, you teared up a little when Hattie got a splinter in her paw but didn’t even yell when you almost sliced your finger off while making dinner.”

“Duality of man,” Finn said sagely.

Marlene cocked an eyebrow. “Finn O’Hara’s hair kind of reminds me of Garfield the Cat.”

“Alright, that’s just rude.”

“It does not!” Logan gasped at the same time Leo made a noise of agreement.

Finn turned to him in utter betrayal. “Nutter Butter, I thought you liked my hair!”

“I do!” Leo defended. “But they’re not entirely wrong. It’s very orange in the sun.”

“I’m never going to forget that,” Finn muttered, staring at the floor.

“Ugh, it bothers me so much that Lupin just objectifies Black all the time!” Marlene read in a high-pitched, nasal voice. “No respect in that relationship!”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Pardon?”

Marlene stared at it for a moment, then shrugged. “Yeah, I have no idea what videos they were watching. Do you feel objectified in your relationship, Cap? I know the opinion of total strangers really bothers you a lot.”

“I’m really glad you picked up on that,” he said with false gravity. “Yeah, it’s such a bummer when my hot fiancé says I look nice. Such a blow to my self-esteem.”

“That was supposed to be a roast against me,” Remus said, looking amused. “Talk about backfiring.”

“Are you ready, Pots? This one’s pretty brutal,” Marlene warned. James nodded and Finn linked their hands for moral support. “James Potter is a swiftie and you cannot tell me otherwise.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “…yeah? That’s true? T Swift is a regular occurrence on the locker room playlist.”

“Also, James Potter looks like someone who would think black pepper was spicy.”

“Now that one is mean,” he complained as the others burst out laughing.  “It’s not my fault I have sensitive taste buds!”

“Oh, honey,” she said under her breath as she took a new card. “Get ready, Tremzy. This first one is short and sweet: Logan Tremblay looks like a lesbian.”

“That is not an insult,” Logan laughed. “Every lesbian I know is rad as fuck. I wish I looked that good in a leather jacket.”

“I just realized Logan doesn’t look short cause he’s next to bunch of hockey players, he’s short cause he’s 5’9.”

The smile slipped off his face in a millisecond as the others roared with laughter. “Quoi?”

“Oh, she got you good,” Sirius gasped, patting his shoulder clumsily. “Holy fuck, can I frame that?”

“That’s not what it says.” An edge of distress appeared in Logan’s voice. “Marley, that’s not what it says.”

James sat on the floor with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes. “You’re fucking—whoever sent that in, you are my new favorite person. Jesus.”

“Do you need a second to recover before we move on?” Dorcas asked as she draped her arms over the back of Marlene’s chair. “The next one is our biggest section by far.”

“It’s the sweet ones, yeah?” Leo asked.

“Right.”

“It might be a good idea to do those before Lo spontaneously combusts.”

“Agreed!” She swapped with Marlene and hauled a short stack of posterboards out from their hiding place with a smile. “A hug from Dumo can probably solve any issue.”

“Facts,” Logan said. “I could really use one right about now, too.”

“Has anyone noticed how blue Leo Knut’s eyes are?”

“Yes,” the six of them chorused.

Finn gave him a dreamy look. “Every single day.”

“When I first read this one, I thought I wrote it,” Dorcas said with a snort. “Someone give Marlene a raise. No reason why, I just love her.”

“Can we do that?” Sirius asked, looking toward the camera crew. “Can we lobby to give you guys raises? Because you definitely deserve it after all the bullshit you deal with to make these videos watchable, and Marlene, you’ve drawn the short end of the stick ninety percent of the time.”

“How?” she called off-screen.

“You have to actually talk to us and try to get answers.”

“Fair.”

Dorcas finished scribbling something down on her notepad. “Just making a note of this conversation for future reference. Moving on! Sirius Black and James Potter are a prime example of hockey husbands, and I adore them.”

“The ironic part of that is that we’re both in committed relationships, but we’re basically married,” James mused.

Remus shook his head. “You guys are so married. Lily wanted to get you matching rings for your birthday, Pots.”

“That would be so cool!” they said in perfect unison. Remus turned to the camera and spread his hands in a case in point motion.

Dorcas stifled her laughter before moving on. “This one is cute. Give Remus Lupin all the hugs! I feel like I could tell him he’s an inspiration and he’d be so nice about it—” She paused to glance up at them. “—this next bit is in parentheses: all the LGBT Lions give me that vibe, but Cap and Knutty are super intimidating so I wouldn’t have the guts.”

Leo’s face fell and Sirius’ eyebrows pitched. “I’m not intimidating!” Leo protested. “I thought we already went over that! Loops gives fantastic hugs, but I want some, too.”

“He definitely deserves all the hugs in the world, but I promise I’m nice,” Sirius said, a bit softer than usual. “Is it because we’re tall?”

Dorcas half-shrugged. “Probably. It’s a little startling at first. Oh, I could’ve written this one, too: The Venn diagram of men I trust and the Gryffindor Lions is a full circle.”

Talker beamed at the camera. “Thank you!”

“So many hockey guys are such douchebags,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “I’m really glad we don’t do that shit.”

“Me, too.” Dorcas slid her old card under her chair. “Sirius Black’s hair looks so soft and I just want to touch it so bad.”

“It is so soft,” Remus agreed immediately. “You have no idea.”

“Everyone wants to touch Cap’s hair,” Finn said, sighing. “It’s so majestic.”

“I need a haircut.”

“No, you don’t,” Remus said as he tugged a stray curl. Sirius hummed.

“This one is from the interview some you did with Jules and Katie: these hockey boys being so soft with kids is my aesthetic! Like, it’s just so adorable to see these big, intimidating dudes be so, so sweet! Love them all!” She turned the card for them to see. “And then they added a heart at the end.”

“It’s impossible to be around those kids and not be happy,” James said. “They’re just too cute and wonderful.”

“Yeah, I love kids.” Finn nodded. “Especially the Dumais and Jules. They’re a hoot.”

“Jules would die if he heard you say that,” Remus laughed. “The hero worship is still going strong with most of you.”

“This one made me laugh when I first read it, but it’s really sweet,” Dorcas informed them. “Anyone else feel like we were deceived these past five years into thinking Cap was this hard-ass man, when in reality he's a cuddle bug who definitely captures and releases spiders instead of squishing them?”

“You weren’t deceived, I was just closeted,” Sirius said. “Also, I absolutely squish spiders.”

Remus gave him a look. “No, you do not. That’s my job. I’m the catch and release person if I can get away with it.”

James shook his head. “The third week of practices you saw a spider and threw me at it.”

“You did what?” Finn asked.

“There was a spider in my stall,” Sirius sighed, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else. “And Pots and I were talking so I didn’t see it until I almost sat on it, and my brain decided the only logical thing to do would be to grab him and shove him toward the spider.”

“That was after you shrieked,” Talker added. “Like, literally shrieked. I’ve never heard anyone make a noise like that.”

“Alright, alright,” Sirius grumbled. “We get it, I don’t like spiders.”

Remus shrugged. “But you are a cuddle bug. They got that part right.”

“We’re in the final two!” Dorcas announced. “This one has some pictures to go with it, so it’s on my phone. Fuck Romeo and Juliet, I want what these bitches have.”

“It’s us!” Leo cooed as the phone made its way down the line. In the upper corner of the screen, the photo appeared—it had been taken in New York, and Logan’s whole face was alight with happiness as Leo and Finn each pressed a kiss to his cheek. The camera caught him mid-laugh, so his eyes were closed and his chin was tucked slightly into Finn’s Strand hoodie.

“That’s my screensaver,” Finn said with a grin, pulling his phone out and turning it toward the camera without moving away from Leo. “One of my favorites.”

“I forgot you took that one,” Logan murmured. He hooked his chin over Leo’s shoulder and kissed his cheek; the four others at the table gave soft are you seeing this? looks to the camera and Dorcas smiled.

“Pots, I think yours is next. I hate to break it to you, Talkie, but they didn’t get any of you and Noelle.”

“We don’t take a ton of pictures together,” Talker said as James took the phone. “I mean, we take a bunch of selfies, but we don’t live close enough to each other to actually post that often. What picture is it, J?”

James was staring down at the picture with an unbearably sweet expression. “It’s our wedding. That’s my favorite one, actually.”

Like Logan, they had been captured while laughing—Lily was bent slightly at the waist as James clapped, his glasses just as askew as the flower crown on her head. It was impossible to tell who had told the joke originally, but they were both radiant in the sunset.

“That’s a really good one,” Sirius said with an unreadable look on his face.

“Well, well, well, fancypants, you two got a video.” James wiggled his eyebrows and Remus leaned in to see.

“What kind of video? One of our tikt—oh. Oh, this is so cute.” He shifted his chair over as the short edit began to play. “D, who made this?”

“A fan.”

“It’s really impressive,” Sirius said without taking his eyes off the screen. The edit was a series of photos, both on and off the ice; Sirius knocking their helmets together, then Remus looking back over his shoulder, then both of them in the water playing chicken in the sun. It was a slideshow of their life and their love.

“Can you send that to me?” Remus asked when it was over. “Cause that’s super cool.”

“Sure thing. Are you guys ready for the last one?” When they all nodded, she drummed her fingers on the posterboard and cleared her throat. “Arthur appreciation hours. He deserves it after managing to control the team.”

A cheer went up—all seven stood and applauded, half-laughing and half-whooping. “Miracle worker!” Sirius called.

“Best coach in the league!” Finn added.

“Most tolerant man to ever walk the earth!” Remus raised his water in a toast and they tapped the plastic edges together, nearly spilling all over the table.

Dorcas’ eyes crinkled in a smile as she turned to the camera. “That’s it for today, Lions! Tune in next time for more content of our boys, and thank you for such wonderful comments!”

[buckyownsmylife]

Secret Door: the one where there’s a live flashback show

President James Buchanan Barnes is the first president to occupy the White House without a first lady ever since… well, President James Buchanan Barnes. But he’s not too worried about it, since he got his best friend from college acting as his VP, supporting him just like only someone who knew everything about him could do. What happens when feelings from the past start to resurface?

Or the one where you and Bucky used to date but now you got a country to run.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

specific warnings for the chapter: smut, oral sex (m, f), monster cock, dirty talk, name-calling, hair-pulling, begging, spanking, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie

Y/N’s P.O.V.

It had been so many years since I felt James’s touch on my skin. He was already great at giving me pleasure back when he was just a college boy, I couldn’t help but wonder how much his technique must have improved since then.

Even after all this time I could still recognize it - no one had ever made me as wet as he did.

We stumbled into his bedroom still lost in each other, eyes closed but hands frantic in their exploration of our bodies. It didn’t take long for his hands to slip down my back and I felt the zipper of my dress reveal my body to his eyes - or actually, reveal the lingerie I was wearing to the man I used to date.

“I knew you were hoping for this outcome tonight,” he chuckled, capturing my lips in a kiss again. He wasn’t wrong. I just didn’t think it would actually happen, and I still wasn’t sure it should be happening.

But right now, I couldn’t care anymore.

Dropping to my knees, I reached for his belt with a hunger I hadn’t felt in ages. I could still remember the way he tasted. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t an overexaggeration from my imagination, and the second I licked at his weeping head, I knew it wasn’t.

“Fuck,” I sighed, wrapping my lips around his member so I could start to suck on it, aching to make my own jaw ache, to choke myself on his delicious thickness.

But it had been too fucking long. Bucky had been blessed with a lot in life, and a lot in his pants as well. Back in college, it made for a lot of interest from the ladies department, but that was only until he got them in his room.

Once the boxers came off, pretty much all of them would scramble. It was an impressive, albeit slightly terrifying length and thickness.

But I wasn’t like anyone else. Where they were frightened, I’d always been peculiarly curious, and back when we started dating, his cock was the first one I’d ever seen.

I couldn’t be scared of something when I didn’t have a frame of reference. And now that I did, all I could do was miss it terribly.

“C’mon,” he urged, as I did my very best to train myself the way he spent months training me when I was barely even twenty. “I know you can take it.”

I knew it too, and it only made me wetter, more determined to get as much of him in as I possibly could. When I finally did manage to make his member until hit the back of my throat, a moan escaped my chest, arousal taking over me for being able to do this again.

“Fuck,” he whispered, knees buckling momentarily as he grabbed my hair to control my movements. “Yeah, there you go… No one knows how slutty the vice president is, huh? I’m the only one who can make you like this, darling.”

The reminder of my title - our roles - had me clenching around nothing, eyes momentarily closing to control my breathing because if I kept them open, the blue in his was going to drown me, I was certain of it.

“Get up.” His order was followed by a tug of my hair that left little room for negotiation, but I wasn’t opposed to it, anyway.

“I can see you’re just as bossy as you’ve always been,” I teased as his thumb brushed under my lip, smearing the spit that had gathered there.

“Well, I am the president,” was his retort, paired with a delicious smirk that gave me goosebumps. “I think I’m allowed to be as bossy as I want to, especially when it comes to this pretty pussy right here.”

His fingers found me easily, two of them spreading me open as his thumb fell on my clit to rub delicious tiny circles over it.

“God, I can’t wait to taste you again.” His eagerness shined through when he dipped me on the bed and knelt by it, tongue tasting me with hunger.

I loved that he was still mostly dressed while I was almost naked, but I had enough of it by now. “Off,” I ordered, sitting up suddenly and forcing him to lean back as I reached for his shirt. “I want this off!”

He smirked at my eagerness, but granted me what I was wishing for, deftly unbuttoning his shirt and getting rid of all of his clothing before he climbed on the bed once more.

“Remember when you were just an innocent little thing?” He whispered against my skin, crawling his way up my body, tracing his path with his nose. “Before I took your virginity and made you this cock hungry whore that you are?”

I didn’t know if my gasp was because of his words or the surprise at being manhandled onto my stomach, only to then feel his hands pull me to my hands and knees.

I moaned loudly when I felt his tongue lapping me from behind. “I always made you feel good, didn’t I, sweetheart?” It was the truth. No man had ever worshiped me like the man hungrily licking my arousal, humming in delight like my wetness was the best thing he had ever tasted.

“Fuck, Buck,” I cursed, falling down to my elbows momentarily. “Just fuck me. Please, just fuck me!” He chuckled at my desperation, taking his sweet time to separate himself from my cunt but at long last, he did what I asked of him.

Bucky’s P.O.V.

“Fuck,” I whispered as I started to slowly inch my cock inside of her. “Look at how well you take my fucking dick…” It was nothing short of hypnotizing.

When my hips met her ass, her gasp was so pretty I wanted to swallow her whole, but I opted to pull her up so I could kiss her cheek, instead. “You’ve always been the only one willing to take all of me, did you know that?”

Her lack of response had me chuckling as I let her go, only to watch her head hang loose between her shoulders. I started moving slowly, mindful of the stretch that was surely affecting her. I’d been walked out on many dates by women who were too scared to take my dick, but I knew how to use it.

Because she had taught me how to use it. She’d trained me and gotten me addicted to her pussy way back in college, and now that I was having my fix, I didn’t know if I’d be able to get over this incredible feeling again.

I don’t think I even wanted to.

“Yes, fuck,” I groaned once I managed to start thrusting, my hand falling over her ass to spank her the way I knew she liked. No one else felt this good. No one. And no one was this willing to be brutally fucked by me but her. She was the only person I knew who liked it exactly like I did.

“God, it feels so good,” she whispered, face pressed against the mattress but her hips raised high to meet me every time I bottomed out. “You’re so deep inside of me.”

She pulled my hand to press it against her stomach, showing me what she meant, and suddenly it was way too warm inside that fucking bedroom.

“I love the way you stretch me,” she moaned. I’d forgotten how much better the sex was with her. How vocal she was, how unafraid to express her emotions and her pleasure she’d always been.

I think the level of trust we shared helped with that. Not only was she okay with letting me know how my cock felt inside of her, it raised the sex to that more intimate, personal level.

No one knew me better than her, so I had never shared this way of fucking with anyone else.

I felt her thigh muscles tremble underneath me, announcing her orgasm. I leaned over her body, covering it with mine so I could sneak a hand to play with her clit, taking advantage of the proximity to rub my rough lips against the skin of her back.

“Cum for me, doll,” I ordered. “I want you to cum for me.” I was expecting her to scream like I was used to witnessing back when we were younger, but instead, she jutted her hips back, letting her head fall on her arms as she panted.

I knew she was cumming from how hard her cunt clenched around me, milking my own orgasm and forcing me to empty my cum inside of her. My arms momentarily faltered, but that moment was all it took for me to fall on top of her, making her huff.

“Sorry.” I pressed a kiss against her back before I rolled to the side, arm covering my eyes as I tried to catch my breath. For a second, we stayed there in silence, just trying to wrap our heads around what happened, but I didn’t want it to extend enough to give her time to regret this.

“You used to be louder,” I commented on a teasing tone. “Have I lost my touch?” My question had the desired effect, and she giggled, reaching out for my hand to press a kiss on the back of it.

“Never!” She assured me. “You just make me speechless now.” Her eyes were gentle and, dare I think, loving as she turned to the side to face me. I opened my arms despite being scared that she would deny me, but no other words were necessary. We fell asleep wrapped in one another, and at least for one night, I could pretend that I hadn’t made any of the mistakes from my past.

Just for tonight, she was mine.

[thatharringrovehoe]

Some more Mob AU stuff cuZ I love it.

- Nancy and Steve never dated, but they have had sex. Once. Nancy wanted her first time to be with someone she trusted and Steve is her BEST FRIEND. She trusts Steve more than anyone. And it's. Not great. Because look. Steve and Nancy have alot in common. To much. They each like to be in control. They're both 100% Tops with a capital T. So when they have sex, even though Nancy is nervous, it ends up being almost a fight. Constantly trying to flip the other over, lots of biting and teeth and frustration because neither of them will submit. Afterwards they put on mud masks and get high and agree that while they love each other there is no way they're ever going to be like that.

- Steve notices the way Jonathan goes all glassy eyed when Nancy walks into the room. How his breath hitches whenever she gets mean. Cuz she is. She's not a bad person, but she's definitely a spoiled brat in a different way than Steve. Because while Steve is starved of love and affection, Nancy has been drowning in it since birth. She's haughty and petulant and will not stop for anything to get what she wants. And Steve is worried at first. Jonathan is a good spymaster and an even better friend so he's reluctant to feed him to the lioness that is Nancy Wheeler.

- He doesn't worry later when he watches Nancy go absolutely gooey with affection the first time Jonathan kisses her in the hallway. How she leads him around like a lost puppy by his camera strap to do what Steve suspects is fucking filthy things to him in the photo development room. Because he knows what Nancy likes. Knows that while Steve kills with kindness Nancy Wheeler is all bite and no bark. Likes to make the pleasure sting. And judging by the way Jonathan practically drools when she rakes her manicured nails down his chest over his shirt while they make out leaning against Jonathan's car after school, he 100% is down to be destroyed by Nancy *the princess* Wheeler.

- Jonathan is still a creep. The only difference here is that he's NEVER crossed Steve. Because when the Harrington kid came up to him in 8th grade and asked if he'd heard any interesting rumors Jonathan thought it was a joke. Just another shot at that weird Byers kid. Had half a mind to tell him to go fuck himself. But right as Tommy curled the beginnings of a mean smirk, Steve shut him down without even looking at him. Just held up his hand. Down boy. And Jonathan thought "You know what? Fuck it." Because if he was lying then he was just like everyone else anyway. But if he was telling the truth. Well. He wasn't above bribery. Told Steve everything he knew. Earned himself a seat in King Steve's court. Used the shadows that always used to swallow him up as a cloak. Held himself with a little more confidence because the monarch of Hawkins may have everyone's secrets. But Jonathan spun the web.

- Billy and Jonathan actually get along really well. They get high and talk about music whenever they're not otherwise occupied getting fucking wrecked by their spoiled rich kid Tops. Billy is low key concerned for Jonathan because damn. Wheeler is fucking savage. Like they'll be passing the joint back and forth and Jonathan will start getting almost to detailed the longer they smoke. Billy did not need to know Nancy Wheeler pegs her boyfriend with a dildo that big okay?

- Carole and Tommy are actually married. Like legally. As soon as Carole turned sixteen Tommy BEGGED Steve to pull some strings. To forge some documents. Cuz Tommy LOVED Carole. She was it. And Tommy could be one nasty piece of work but he would die for this girl no hesitation. And Steve is a sucker for that romantic shit. Set them up with a trip to Italy where a lot of Steve's mother's family lives. Because his grandfather respects a man who's ready to commit to his woman like that. And Steve is his grandmother's favorite. They have a ceremony in a little Church at the heart of the village. Tommy did not fucking cry when he saw Carole in her dress okay? It was just dusty in that old church, shut up.

- Nancy and Carole HATE each other. But in a very wasp-ish kinda way. Will hang out and have 'spa days, just us girls' but would choke each other out given the slightest opportunity. Tommy thinks it's hot. He will never tell Carole this.

- Dustin is obsessed with the fact that Nancy and Steve are kind of mirrored? Just two dominant rich kids that fell in love with emotionally stunted boys that were abused by their fathers? They both have dark brunet hair and big brown eyes? Their boyfriends are blonde? Steve are you listening? Steve!

- Steve gets really bad nightmares. Like wake up mid panic attack bad. And he's usually really good at hiding it from Billy. Is careful not to sleep to deeply around him. But one night after some fucking incredible sex Steve just passes the fuck out cuddling. The next thing he knows he's being shaken awake by a terrified Billy Hargrove. Because Steve had been screamin and shakin and cryin out and Billy was ready to burn down this hick town looking for whoever hurt Steve like this. Was gunna bury them in the Hawkins woods and piss on their grave. And that's when Steve tells him everything about the upside down. Introduces him to El to prove it.

- Speaking of, El doesn't spend a year all alone in a fucking cabin. Because Steve knows everyone's secrets and he likes having people in his pocket. And as much as Hopper dislikes Steve Harrington he can't say no when the king of Hawkins offers Jim perfectly forged paperwork for his 'daughter' El. So El goes to school and spends time learning how to be an actual child while Steve Harrington yanks on the leash of the chief of police whenever he wants.

- Billy is SOFT okay? He's just never been allowed to show it. Had been painted with bruises for just existing so God forbid his father let him show a human emotion. But after a year in Hawkins with Steve he lets his shoulders drop just a little. Will twine his fingers with his boyfriend's during movie night at the Byers. Brings Steve breakfast in bed. The first time he weaves a daisy crown for him Steve almost fucking weeps he's so touched.

- Steve is fucking possessive. Like. Intensely jealous. And at first this was a problem because Billy could not understand why all the girls in Hawkins treated him with kid gloves? They didn't just disregard any playful flirting, they full on didn't acknowledge it. He didn't really get longing stares as he walked through the halls anymore. No more tittering teenage girls blushing over him when he had gym outside. And he's not interested in women but it's nice to be noticed okay? Especially when he puts in so much effort. It starts to make him self conscious. Like, is he just unattractive? Second guesses himself to the point that he stops wearing his shirts unbuttoned and starts to get a little obsessive over working out. It's when Billy starts skipping meals that Steve notices. Sees Billy's lip wobble a little when he asks Steve if he's actually attracted to him or if he's just being nice. And Steve has to explain that he just... Doesn't share well. At all. That when Andrew Brady showed up to school last month with a fat lip and a limp it was because Steve had heard him talking with his buddies behind the general store about how he wanted to bend Billy over his Camaro and make him scream.

- And Billy is just. Shook. Gets all warm and fuzzy because no one hase ever loved him this much. Never wanted Billy this much. Wanted Billy to stay. Can feel tears willing up behind his lashes because the most amazing boy he's ever met is so over the moon for Billy that he's willing to draw blood on his behalf. Kisses Steve so hard they both forget to breath. Feels safe and loved, because he belongs to Steve Harrington. However he still flirts with people on the daily though cuz he's a little shit. And hey if it means his jealous boyfriend rails him so good he forgets his own goddamn name then that's just a bonus.

[archetypal-archivist]

Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone P.2

So, a little while back I wrote piece titled Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone (linked here) which was inspired by the works of @petrichormeraki and @redorich, who popularized the AU of Tommyinnit from the Dream SMP getting dropped into Hermitcraft somehow and summarily getting adopted by the entire server. I, in my infinite wisdom, decided “yes, but also angst” and spat out a solid 1500+ words with a cliffhanger at the end because it was getting ridiculous and I had yet more to write. This is another 1500+ words of continuation. 

-----

It's not easy, knowing things. Joe knows more things than most, and oh, how it eats at him sometimes. He jokes with Cleo that between the two of them and their dogs, they are perhaps the leading experts on being chewed on, but she never laughs at that joke. He can't help but wonder why, his thoughts drifting as he lies still and silent in her arms, curled up together on his bed in the winery. Her orange hair tickles his nose as he moves to bury his face in her shoulder a bit more, her cool breath ghosting over the sticky tear tracks that still line his cheeks. All the things that remain unsaid lie between them, but their silent agreement binds them together tighter still. And indeed silence is the name of the game, however much he wishes it wasn't necessary- everything will work out in due time, he knows. But oh, how it aches that he can't say anything more on the matter, not even to her.

"Cleo?" The zombie woman makes a soft inquiring noise, politely ignoring how his voice cracks on the syllables. "Are we doing the right thing?" Her grip tightens again, almost crushingly so, and Joe goes limp at the implied rebuke. Be it right or wrong, his silence must be ensured- he knows so much that if he said anything, it'd all come pouring out. A real modern-day Cassandra, verbal fountain and harbinger of doom in one. No, best to stay cryptic when he can and silent when he can't- and if even his silence fails, Cleo is there, sword in hand, ready to keep him quiet.

He should not take comfort from that. But here, wrapped up in his best friend's embrace, utterly at her mercy and all the safer for it... He does anyway.

-----

Joe and Cleo aren't in a romantic relationship, but it would not be amiss to call them platonic life partners in this universe. Joe has been seeing things for as long as he can remember, the exact mechanics are strange and baffling at best, and if he tries to actually do any Science to figure out how this stuff works, the magic changes to spite him. It's led to a lot of unfortunate visions of peanut butter and how the server generally tends to misuse the stuff (Etho sometimes using it instead of slime in a sticky piston is a milder example), so after enough peanut visions to make him allergic on principle, Joe tends to just let the visions come as they may. The only hard-coded bit that comes with them is that anyone living who hears his prophecies won't believe them and will have something bad happen to them as a result. Cleo, being a zombie, is a special exception to the rule. She's only alive in the most technical of senses, so while bad things still happen to her if she hears Joe speak about his experiences, she at least will believe him.

Which is why she is so determined to not know more about whatever is going on with Tommy. When Joe had rushed in a month ago, tears streaming down his cheeks and glasses barely hanging onto his face, she had merely put down the book she had been reading and had opened her arms wide to him. Convincing him that she would not betray his trust or break his heart had been hard, but she had known it was worth it. How can it be anything but, when Joe had looked at her then as if she was the most precious being on the planet and had immediately thrown himself into her arms, bursting out into troubled tears? He offered to tell her the full story, eyes wet and longing, and her long-dead heart ached at the trust he is giving her- but she is far too selfish to give that up. So she had turned him down, smile on her lips.

Even when he whispered, voice hoarse, that they wouldn't be seeing Tommy for a while. Even when he shuddered and shook in her arms, fragile as glass in her grip. Even when he begged her to ask, just ask, please, it's too much... She did not ask. If she asked, he would tell her, and then she would be hurt and his heart would break because it would be his words that had hurt her. She would not, cannot, will never inflict that upon him, or let him inflict that upon anyone else. (Of all the heads in her collection, the one she has most of is Joe's.)

She simply asks him if there will be a satisfying ending, and when he says yes, she asks no more. Everything will be okay, in the end. So long as there is that much, so long as she has Joe in her arms and the comfortable silence stretches out between them, then she will be content.

(At the foot of their bed, deep in Joe's winery where the barking is muffled and the light cannot touch them, there lies a chest of heads. Inside it, nestled among the many faces of the dead, rests an old iron sword bearing the name Hush. It's blade is rusty from disuse, but if Cleo ever decides that she isn't satisfied, well. There are ways of dealing with that.)

(Things will be okay. She'll make sure of it.)

-----

Philza was no stranger to death. A veteran of a hardcore world, where even the very earth was out to kill him, he had seen his fair share of deaths and had dealt out even more. Usually just to the local mobs and wildlife, but there was still the occasional player dropped into his world by the cruel hands of the Void as a sort of "apology" for leaving him alone, bereft of his sons. As if some random strangers could ever fill the Void in his heart.

Most of them had wandered off upon seeing him, more interested in escape than any companionship he could offer them, and he'd inevitably see their death messages in the otherwise silent chat a few days later. Others would approach him, some curious, some desperate for kindness- he gave them none, was often intentionally cruel just to drive them away. He had the Void in his heart and the Void had him, and he ached and ached for what he could not have. Anything less would be a pale imitation, a mockery of the love he was desperate to return to. He tried not to think about how those kind strangers would also come to meet their ends, often more messily than those that had decided to leave him be to begin with.

Then there were the rare few with... less than gentle intentions. (Blood for the Blood gods, no matter the universe.)

Theirs were the deaths he regretted the least, but the blood still gave him nightmares. For all that he loved his sons, he never understood their love for glory, be it found in conquering other nations or the sticky ooze of a dying foe. Maybe that's why he had spent so much of his time with his elder sons when he returned, the Void finally releasing him from his hardcore prison. Just a father's attempt at understanding, even if it left his youngest at loose ends.

But the problem with loose ends, he had come to find, is that the world had a way of setting them to rights- either by tying them back into the grand narrative, or by cutting them out entirely. For months after Dream had come to him, apology on his lips and charred shoe in hand, he had believed that Tommy's fate had been the latter. He had  mourned his son as if such was the case, weeping openly at the news for the first time in years. (He wasn't the only one, though- Technoblade was an only child now and he was not taking it well.) It was only when Tubbo came to him with his compass to ask about its ever-spinning needle that he felt a spark of hope, for a compass that spun was not a compass linked to a dead soul- simply a lost one. Such hope was justified when, six months later, Technoblade burst into his house with a snarl on his lips and a smile in his eyes. Tommy had returned.

And as Phil stood, back straightening and wings spread wide, hope bloomed in his chest like hanahaki, choking him with love right down to his core. Tommy had returned, despite everything.

And Philza would not let him go again.

-----

For all that Tommy might have been... gone for at least a month now on the Hermitcraft server and life has significantly slowed down for all involved, by no means has it stopped entirely. The shops are still stocked, the torches are replaced when the old ones burn out, Hermits still go out and see each other, if less often than before. Xisuma, in fact, instates a series of mandatory meetings every week or so as a way of making sure that everyone is still alive- a bit of reassurance that no one else has died in the time interim. Even the hermits who prefer to keep to themselves show up, such as Tinfoilchef, Joe, and Cleo, although the latter two remain distinctly separate from everyone else on the server during the meetings, their refusal to take a side alienating them from the rest. Grian, broken though he may be, also comes, usually in the arms of Iskall or with a vacant smile on his face depending on the state of his mental health on the given day. His presence is also alienating, as most of the hermits don't quite know what to say around him and thus will give him and Iskall a bubble of space to themselves during the meetings. Mumbo is the only one to cross the divide, standing loomingly tall at Iskall's back, as if daring anyone to say something potentially hurtful to either of his friends.

Frankly, the entire concept of weekly meetings is a bit of a mess. Xisuma stands at the front with Keralis at his back, voice and posture more and more tired with every meeting and Keralis standing just a bit closer, a silent show of support (ready if his admin ever needs some physical support too). The prognosis is usually a mix of dull stuff and hopeless stuff- lag is better than it has been in years, the Chestmonster shop is out again, Tommy still has not been... found. It's not exciting exactly, but the tension during the reporting stage is palpable as everyone waits to hear if something else has gone wrong. It's a bit like being on the front lines- horrible, drawn-out minutes of tedium as everyone holds their breath, waiting to see if another bombshell will drop but knowing that they have to be there, because some warning is infinitely better than seeing a death message in chat one day and not knowing if that person will ever make it back.

In addition to this is the tension that comes from the server being split in three- the believers, the mourners, and those too damaged or too caught up in their own narratives or too neutral to swing to one side or the other.

The meetings are where the most near-fights happen, and Xisuma is so, so tired of having to be the sane one these days. (The benefit of a helmet, he's come to find, is that no one can see you cry.)

(He doesn't take it off much anymore.)

-----

It's after one such meeting that Zedaph finds himself cooped up in his base, eyes burning with unshed tears and feet dangling out into the Void as he sits at the bottom of the hole in his base, the one that goes straight to bedrock and then even further still. The chill is a welcome distraction from his own inner turmoil, and for all that it's dangerous to be sitting so near to the edge of the world, he can't find it in himself to move away form its cold comfort. After all, Tommy can't have died permanently, right? So sitting there is perfectly safe. He has to believe that. He has to.

The meetings are tough on everyone, but sometimes Zedaph wonders if they are a bit worse for him than they are for the rest. It can't be normal that the first thing he does after every meeting is burst into panicked tears as soon as he gets back to his base, as he's certainly never felt such deep fear and relief after the meetings they had before the Incident. And yet, as soon as the iron door of his base sncks shut behind him, he drops down into the Void hole, sits at the edge, and bawls his eyes out. It's kinda funny- he's shed more tears in the last month than he has in his entire life so far. And all for a boy he had known for less than a year.

During this particular day, however, something odd happens. When he sits down for a good cry, it feels like there's the slightest of breezes coming off the Void beneath his feet, chilling him right down to his bones. It's cold, yes, but a welcome relief as he feels a bit like he's burning up from the inside out. Every moment he spends with Tango and Impulse is stifling, as with them he has to shove himself into a hateful mold he never wanted for himself. He doesn't like being angry, and being angry alongside his best friends is hardly any better. If he had it his way, he would have curled up in bed and simply slept the horror away, only waking when the nightmare was over and he could go play mini golf and Among Us with Tango, Impulse, and Tommy again. Instead, his love for his friends demands that he supports them in all their endeavors, even if their goals these days seem to run a little closer to "get them all killed" than is comfortable.

But yes. The breeze. It feels like ice on his skin and sends every nerve in his legs buzzing. It has a distinct smell to it too, like TV static, ozone, and that sensation you get after you brush your teeth and go take a big gulp of cold water. It's... odd. But vaguely comforting. And as the tears finally well up in his eyes and drip down his cheeks, as he lets himself sob for all the friends- both new and old- he's lost, he finds that it's exactly what he needs.

And if Zedaph would only listen a little closer, let himself see beyond his broken heart, perhaps he would hear the whisper on the wind, too.

Everything will be okay. I'll make sure of it.

-----

Evil X has his own troubles to deal with. He had been present when Tommy had died, if watching from the wrong side of their dimension. Lost in the Void with nothing better to do, he had often found himself watching his friend go about his day. With space and time being as screwy as they were in the Void, he could find himself taking three steps and then would be watching Tommy go from sleeping over at BDub's base to having "breakfast" with Rendog. So when Grian and Tommy had gone out End-busting that fateful day, of course he had been watching.  And that was all he could do- watch- as he saw his best friend fall to his apparent death, that little line of code that signaled "perma-death" flashing once, twice, and then glowing a deep, ominous red.

But that wasn't the end of it, even as his dull and bruised heart stuttered in his chest at the sight.

Like a redstone pulse lighting up everything around it, that red glow set off a cascading chain reaction that rippled up and down Tommy's code until it eventually trailed out to wherever his code stretched out into the Void. There, it must have severed something because before he could even call for help, his friend's code yanked inwards and away, slingshotting the whole mess into the distant darkness beyond, leaving naught but a vague impression on the inside of his eyelids behind. It was... awful. One of the scariest things he had ever seen, perhaps second only to watching his brother, stern-faced and cold, send him off to the Void once again. But for all that it hurt to see that red glow and watch in mute horror as the server he had once tried to destroy shake itself apart at the seams, there was still hope.

The code was gone, yes, but not unraveled, not destroyed. Merely... transported. Moved. Like a file being sent from one computer to another, or a player teleporting between servers. Tommy's code vanishing like that was cause for alarm, yes, but somewhere out there in the vastness of the Void, it lingered still- and it had left a faint impression of itself in its wake. That meant there was hope.

Evil X- and by proxy, his twin Xisuma- were voidwalkers, beings specifically designed to see, understand, and even modify the world's code. Were he anything else, he surely would have perished by now, his consciousness scattered across the Void as it was. And having been in exile for so long, he had gotten to be adept at seeing the seams between worlds and reading the truths of existence as the Void had intended for her children. If anyone could follow that faint trail, could get Tommy back, it would be him.

For the first time in a long time, Evil X had hope. And hope is a vicious motivator indeed.

-----

TBC :)

[comfortwriting]

Best Friends Boyfriend - G.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts

Part 2 of my slow burn mini-series, inspired by and dedicated to @amourtentiaa , want to be tagged? Let me know!

This chapter is inspired by @amourtentiaa ‘s Owlery which you can learn more about and access here.

Please read Part 1 if you haven't already!

George Weasley x Fem Reader slow burn 

Warnings: Fluff.

You couldn’t get last night out of your head, the sound of George whispering to you, asking you out on a date, how his beautiful face looked from the amber tones coming from the flames that radiated against his face, the way he smiled and licked his lips.

Laying in bed wide awake you kept your hand over your mouth, trying to hold in your giggles so you wouldn’t wake up Hermione and your other dorm mates. You couldn’t believe it - you’re going on a date, with George Weasley, the lad you fancy more than anyone else in the world - the only problem, your best friend, George’s younger brother, Ron, wouldn’t approve and would do anything to make sure the two of you keep well away from one another.

Throughout the whole day, you played it cool when passing George in the common room or the great hall, but as the day moved on and afternoon turned into evening, you couldn’t stop the giggles of excitement from bursting out, and the tint of pink to spread across your cheeks.

You had two hours until you were meeting George, for now, you sat in the common room with Ron and Hermione whilst Harry had Occlumency lessons with Snape.

“What d’you keep giggling about?” Ron hissed at you, scowling “you’ve been at it all day and you’re freaking me out.”

You covered your face with your hands, taking a deep breath and trying to calm the bubbling of nerves and excitement.

“N-Nothing” you replied, “I think I inhaled a dodgy potion somebody was brewing in the second-floor toilets this morning” you lied, avoiding eye contact with your best friend and his crush, Hermione.

Ron gave you an odd look and flashed his eyes to Hermione, who glared at him and shrugged her shoulders.

“Shouldn’t you go to Madame Pomfrey?” she suggested, knitting another hat for the house-elves.

Nodding your head, you got out of your chair and pursed your lips, “yeah, I think I will” you lied again “let me go and get freshened up, she might want to keep me in overnight if the giggles get worse” you smirked, chuckling.

Leaving your friends behind, you hurried off to your dorm room, getting your makeup, clothes, and shoes ready to put on after your shower, placing your clothes and makeup bag on the bed, kicking your shoes on the floor beside it.

“I dunno what's up with her” Ron huffed, slouching in his chair beside the fire.

Hermione continued knitting “Well, hopefully, Madame Pomfrey can sort her out, uncontrollable giggling can get you sent to St. Mungo’s.”

Ron focused on the bobble hat coming together in front of his eyes, trying to make sense of your behaviour today and if there was something else going on after his brother played Hero during the end of your horrific date.

Wearing your best black denim front pocket Pinafore dress over your red and yellow striped turtleneck and black tights, you stared at yourself in the mirror, blushing slightly at the thought of George seeing you dolled up just for him. You pouted, deep in thought and unsure of what hairstyle to do, checking the time you were cutting it close and decided your go-to natural, no school but not overdoing it hairstyle would be best.

“Tomorrow night, where we first met” you reminded yourself, hearing George’s voice inside your head.

Thinking long and hard about when you first met George and where, you closed your eyes and tried to focus, all of your memories whizzing around in your head - you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter knowing that not only did George remember, but he also perhaps thought of that day often.

Hurrying out of your dorm and back into the common room, Harry now sat down with Hermione and Ron, they all seemed taken aback by your appearance, furrowing their brows at you.

“You’re a bit dressed up for a doctors appointment, aren’t you?” Hermione called out.

Ron looked at you from head to toe “I think you’ve overdone it, mate-”

“See you later!” you giggled, a spring in your step as you left the common room, going through the portrait hole.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione exchanged looks, none of them knowing what to think or say was becoming a reoccurring factor today.

“Something isn’t right at all” Ron muttered “she’s up to something”

Reaching the owlery, you felt your excitement and nervousness compete against one another inside of you, being a few minutes early, you had enough time to admire all of the owls around you who were getting ready to go out hunting. Each of them unique and calming to look at, stroke, and hear a hoot. The memories finally coming back to you more clearly.

Your first week at Hogwarts went more awful than you ever imagined, you had got lost on the way to your classes, got into trouble by Percy - your houses Prefect and due to your terrible potion skills Snape put you in a weeks detention, your parents were so angry you received a Howler before anyone else in your class.

Feeling lost, alone, and in need of a friend, you wrote out your worries, concerns and everything else you were feelings into letters, addressed to your friends attending other Wizarding Schools (like Ilvermorny) across the globe.

Writing about your feelings, life, and anything, in general, helped to make you feel better, heard, and less isolated from the impressive and promising classmates that surrounded you.

Walking up the long and steep steps up to the Owlery, your heart melted at the Owls, some sleeping, some bobbing their heads around, and others appearing to be smiling at you. You felt connected to them in some sort of way, and spending time with them, knowing they didn’t care about your house, or how well you could make a feather float in the air made you feel more at ease.

You stared and smiled at your Tawny owl named Penny, you approached her trying to avoid the owl droppings and rat carcasses and stroked her softly, handing her your letters.

“Please deliver these safely,” you told her, tears filling your eyes again “it’s taken a lot for me to write them”

Penny accepted the letters and understood how important this job was, and how much it would mean to you, she pecked at your cheek, little kisses against your tears before she flapped her gorgeous wings and took flight.

Not wanting to go back down to your Herbology class to be a laughing stock, you stayed in the owlery, falling to the floor and weeping.

“If these reports get sent home mum will kill us” once voice spoke out, panting up the stairs.

“Well” replied a similar voice, also panting “we need to change our grades and get one of these owls to send it to her for us, it's why I made a fake replica”

Their voices and footsteps came closer.

“As long as Errol and Hermes aren’t delivering it, we’ll be fine Georgie.”

Two tall twins with ginger hair walked into the Owlery shiftily, both of them stopping in their tracks, noticing you crying on the floor, drowning in your robes.

George’s face and heart softened, he mouthed to his brother ‘leave it with me, I’ll get it sent, let me see why she’s upset’

Freddie nodded and slowly left the Owlery, trying not to make a sound.

You missed Penny with all your heart, after many trips she became so sick and injured no magic, and no amount of Hagrid’s care and love was enough to fix her wings and bring her back to life. When you lost Penny, you lost part of yourself, the Owlery wasn’t the same without her and each time you visited, you would break down into tears.

“You made it, early” George called out, pulling you out of your trip down memory lane, causing you to jump slightly.

You blinked back the forming tears and turned around to face him, the moonlight illuminating his best features through the open arches. “Didn’t want to be late” you replied, smiling nervously, stroking one of the owls.

“You were so little” George chuckled “but even after growing up so much somethings never change”

You cocked up an eyebrow and smirked, slightly confused “what do you mean?”

“The owls” he replied “your love for them, the time you make for them, it’s beautiful”

You could feel your cheeks heating up, your heart rate elevating.

“They’re special to me” you replied, trying not to come across as too shy.

George blushed too, his cheeks mirroring yours as he stepped closer, so close you could count each individual freckle across his face - something you had only done from across the halls or over the table.

“that’s why I asked for us to meet here,” George said softly, stepping closer to you, his breath brushing against you “because you’re special to me”

George took hold of your hand, tracing stars into your palm with his thumb, his eyes taking in your hair, your makeup, your outfit, and shoes. He started to lean in, as did you, your soft lips brushing against his cinnamon scented ones, but pulled away before you could share a kiss, smirking and winking at you.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said nervously “I’ve been trying to give her to you for a while now, but whenever I’ve tried, Ron always got in the way”

You rolled your eyes “he always does” you replied “he doesn’t like the idea of us being together” you frowned, looking away from George and lowering your head, deciding to examine your shoes.

George lifted your chin up with his thumb, smiling at you “he doesn’t have to know” he paused “stay very quiet and follow me” he whispered, still holding your hand.

George walked you over to a very tired looking owl, her wings and body covering something small underneath her. George whispered to the owl “It’s George, she’s ready now”

The tired owl opened her googly eyes, staring at George, slowly and reluctantly moving away from her precious possession underneath her motherly wings. Underneath the wings lay a tiny owlet, its large magnificent eyes opening wide and staring at George, then you.

“I know he’ll never replace Penny” George murmured, wrapping his arm around you “but I want you to have a safe space here, I know how much of that Penny provided for you and I know how much of that changed when she passed away.”

You reached out your hand to stroke the baby, “it’s okay” you reassured his nervous mother “I’m not going to hurt him”

You ran the back of your finger down the Owlets fluffy back, its face showing signs of enjoyment and comfort, something rare amongst owls.

George watched in awe, the memories of you when you were much shorter and quieter flashing before him, now you were a beautiful young woman, with the same heart full of love and nurturing.

Tears of happiness streamed down your cheeks, you leaned into George and cuddled him, your face pressed against his chest, the scent of the burrow engulfing you.

“George - I - thank you, he’s beautiful”

George closed his eyes, taking in your face against his chest, his hand stroking your hair.

“I care for you, Y/N” he spoke out again “I know we were never that close, but you’re not just my little brother's friend to me”

You pulled yourself off his chest, looking up into his gorgeous eyes.

“like these owls, you’re unique, you’re special” he whispered.

“What’s your obsession with these owls anyway?” the tall boy asked, fiddling with his fake report.

“They’re unique” you replied quietly, walking around “they’re special”

George looked down into your eyes, his nose poking yours softly, leaning in, you didn’t pull back and allowed him to pull you gently into him.

His heart and yours racing, as your hand rested upon his chest, and his arm around your waist, your lips grazing against each other, turning into a deep, soft kiss.

Tag list: @amourtentiaa @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @slutforsebstan @alwaysnforeverfangirl @horrorxweasley @xmalfoyweasleyx @freddiemylovelg 

[kachuuyaa]

Hhahhhahahh I have more quotes. Again credits to @/ratdoodoo666 on Twitter for many of these incorrect quotes

---

Lumine, with hesitant confidence: gas? I light that. Gate? I keep that. Girl? I boss that?

Chuuya: what the FUCK are you saying??

Jean, in the corner: [sobbing] I DONT- [cough] --KNOW I DONT FUCKING KNOW

Reader, who taught Lumine that: the truth

---

Reader: I am DONE loving people

Beidou: I sank my fucking ship arm wrestling a red headed twink straight through the floorboards

Reader: I want you so bad

---

Reader: Fyodor is so fucking funny to me, nothing about him screams "straight" but everything about him screams "homophobic". Homophobic homosexual.

Dazai: the closet is made of glass

---

Dazai: [exists]

Reader: don't go to the hospital. Die. Be a man.

---

Reader, drunk: babies are loveable, and innocent, but they're not good. They're interested self centered, as they have to be in order to survive.

Reader: "I want mommy," "I want milk" "I wanna be held" "I wanna be comforted....and if you don't do any of that immediately, I'm going to ruin your life".

Reader: That's not goodness, that's narcissism.

Diluc, who unfortunately shares the same sentiment:

--

Mori: good morning, Y/N

Reader, over worked and just back from a long mission, hating themselves and everyone else: shut the fuck up.

--

Reader: did it hurt when Steve from blue's clues gave you more closure than your ex?

Kaeya, in the BSD world, who discovered TV's: I hurt when he gave me more closure than my dad.

---

Poe, with a crush: when his name starts with a J and rhymes with one of the 50 US states

Reader, immediately: the very SECOND I meet the man named Jebraska, is the very second That. Man's. Life. Ends.

--

Chuuya: [exists]

Diluc, every passing moment: Fuck my vision I'll punch you--

---

Fyodor or Nickolai: [Falls through a broken floorboard]

Reader, struggling to stay stoic: He's. He's Da-fallen.

Venti, trying to breathe:

---

Reader, talking to Rosaria and Yosano, about the BSD boys: Do you ever spend 5 minutes with a man, and you just know that they were never told, to shut the fuck up once in their childhood. Sometimes even less than 5 minutes.

Yosano: yes.

Rosaria: Amen.

----

Kaeya: oh, you're so sad and lonely? How's your obsession with a gay rat going?

Dazai, smiling through gritted teeth: mmm. Come for me like that again and I'm gonna fuck your dad.

Kaeya, grinning wider: I don't care what you do, but it you find him, let me know. He went to get grape juice when I was 7 and never came back.

---

Yosano, talking to Jean: Daily Affirmation, repeat after me:

Yosano: The great grand children if my enemies will weep at the sound of my name because of the generational curse I have placed upon their family.

Ranpo: [plays piano]

Jean:

---

Kaeya: where is the remote?

Dazai: up your ass

[They start fighting immedately]

---

Chuuya: you could absolutely have horrible coping mechanisms! Cause looks at Moloch, they're the fucking [waves hands around] moloch of the Port Mafia...

Chuuya, stressed out: I like Moloch, what the fuck do they know about good coping mechanisms???

---

Fyodor: I have a lot of thot's, let me introduce you to them--

Fyodor: Rats in the the house of the dead!

Fyodor:[Looking back at the person he's talking to] I have a lot of thots--

Fyodor: Rats in the house of the Dead--

---

Reader, talking about Atsushi, Akutagawa, and Albedo: if his name starts starts an A...he not sus, he gay.

----

Dainslef: why is this place covered in blood

Fyodor: : )

Albedo: it's simple color theory Mr. Dain

Dainslef: no the fuck its not.

---

Reader, having a mental breakdown:

Childe, who learned Modern day memes: put your head up king your mascara is running

Reader, who stops crying: whAT--

---

Chuuya: visualize the ocean

Dazai: I am drowning

Reader, behind Dazai, ready to beat his ass with a rolled up piece of news paper as a form of behavior correction:

---

Childe: apparently I am very mentally ill, but I don't believe that.

Childe: thoughts?

Reader: and prayers.

----

Amber: I tried my best but I didn't succeed.

Fyodor: how would sucking seed help?

Amber: you have to be doing this on purpose.

---

Fyodor: what are your pronouns?

Albedo: he/they

Fyodor: wrong answer

Albedo: wh

---

These are not the most top quality memes I could create but to be fair I'm so tired lmao goodnight

-- 🐗 anon

oh my god these were so good

“hows ur obsession w a gay rat going😊”

“shut ur dumb dumb looking ass the fuck”

FYODOR BEING A HOMOPHOBIC HOMOSEXUAL IS CANON………. it’s just true he killed a man upon being touched🤣 but has white haired whores within his arsenal (NIKOLAI, sigma, shibusawa) 😞😞 ehat

i fucking KNOWWW that kaeya and dazai hate each other it’s like a mutual understanding that you have to prevent them from burning a fucking city because they hate the other

me whenYosano i Want mOmmy i want milk I want to be Held

[my-unmanageable-mischief]

Arranged Marriage Part 3

Part 3 of my Arranged Marraige story, (Part 1, Part 2)

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Your wedding announcement had gone about as well as could be expected. You and Draco stood with both sets of your parents as Lucius addressed the room, informing everyone of your union. You stood with your hand in Draco’s, who held onto it tightly, both for you and himself. The crowd clapped for you, and you curtsied as Draco bowed. For the next hour or so you stood together, hand and hand, as person after person came up to congratulate you on the engagement. The night, thankfully, eventually came to an end as people began to leave by apparition and floo. You and your parents were some of the last to go, and you were thankful it was finally time; you were exhausted. 

“Have a wonderful rest of your break Draco,” You mother said politely, smiling stiffly. 

“Thank you ma’am,” He released your hand and you felt empty without it there, so you allowed your arms to wrap themselves around you. “I will see you soon, Y/N.” You nodded your head and offered him a tentative smile. 

“See you soon,” And with that, your father took your arm with an iron grip and you were gone, standing in your parlor. 

“Go to bed.”

“Yes father,” You nodded, practically running up the two flights of steps to your room. You cried yourself to sleep that night, weeping for the girl you used to be. But Draco’s words still rung clearly in your head. ‘They will hunt you down and they will kill you,’ and you knew he was right. Now, all you could do was hope and pray he was true to his word- that he would protect you. You don’t know when you finally fell asleep, but when you did you dreamt wonderful dreams of Paris in the summer and silver eyes. 

“You will be good.” Your father demanded and you nodded your head as you stared at your shoes on the platform 9 2/3. 

“Yes sir,” 

“You will stick closely to Draco. You will do as he says. You aren’t to disobey him, do you understand me?” 

“Yes sir,” He grabbed your chin roughly and forced you to look at him.

“Look at me when I speak.” He ordered and you fought to keep the disgust from your features. “He is to be your husband. A wonderful thing for a girl like you,” You sneered and you held in your wince. “You are not to disappoint your mother and I by ruining this opportunity.” 

“Yes, father.” He gave you a curt nod and released you before turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you all alone surrounded by parents who were kissing and hugging their children goodbye. You stood another moment before turning and walking in the opposite direction, towards the train. You boarded, finding an empty compartment to hide away in, taking out a book that you knew you wouldn’t read. A few moments later the door to the compartment opened and someone stepped inside.

“I’ve been looking for you,” You looked up surprised. 

“Draco,”

“Hello Y/N.” He gave you a mild smile, sitting across from you. You merely stared at him, and he raised a hand to his face, “Have I got something?” You chuckled, shutting your book and setting it aside. 

“No, no. Nothing.” You assured and he let his hand fall into his lap. You lapsed into silence for a moment before you added, “You don’t have to sit with me, if you don’t want to, I’m sure you’d have more fun with your mates.”

“They’re hardly mates, really.” He admitted, “Just people I spend my free time with.”

“That’s a mate, Draco.” He tilted his head, smirking.

“They’re not pleasant company.” You smirked back.

“Don’t I know it.” You both chuckled at that, but then his face sombered. 

“I wanted to sit with you.” You felt your cheeks flush slightly and you played with a lock of your hair, turning to rest your back against the window, putting your feet up on the seat. 

“I’m no fun either, I assure you.”

“Maybe not, but at least you’re pleasant to look at.” He teased and you blushed deeper. 

“Is that all I’m good for?” You asked, and he shook his head immediately. 

“Surely not, Y/N,” 

“I was teasing, but if you’re offering compliments I’m all ears.”

“I wouldn’t want your head to get too big now, we won’t be able to get you off the train.”

“That would be a sin, I’d be cursed to ride the rails for the rest of my life.” He chuckled again and you smiled, watching him. He looked younger when he laughed. Handsomer. 

“Truly a sin,” He agreed. “What were you reading?” He asked, and you attempted to shield the book from him. 

“Nothing interesting, really.” He reached over and snagged the book from your hands. 

“Wuthering Heights?” 

“It’s a muggle book,” You admitted slowly, gauging his reaction. He made a face and tossed the book back down onto the bench you were sitting on.

“Why would you want to read a muggle book?” He asked, curiously. You shrugged, grabbing the book and shoving it into your bag.

“It’s good, it’s well written, muggle isn’t a synonym for bad.”

“It isn’t?” He smirked and you frowned at him. 

“No, Draco, it isn’t.” He merely shrugged, leaning back into his seat, spreading his legs out across the compartment. 

“Whatever you say, dear.” You spent the rest of the train ride mostly in silence, Draco staring out of the window at the passing countryside, and you alternating between daydreaming and watching him. You were nearly there when Draco spoke your name, causing you to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“I have to warn you,” He stated, and you frowned. “I’ll be.. Terribly busy this year.” He stated, and you nodded, “I won’t be able to spend much time with you I’m afraid.” Again you nodded. 

“That’s alright.” 

“What I’m doing it’s for you. For us. Our future. I’m making sure everything will be okay.” His words were vague, and you wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but you didn’t think he’d tell you even if you asked; so you didn’t. 

“I understand, Draco.” 

“Good. Thank you,”

“Of course.” The train came to a stop, and he stood first, offering you his hand. You took it, smiling softly. You expected him to let go of your hand as soon as you hit the corridor, but he didn’t, and you didn’t mind it. He kept your hand in his until you reached Hogwarts, until you hit the great hall before finally releasing. 

“I will see you soon,” He assured. 

“We have potions together,” You reminded him and he nodded, smiling. 

“We can sit together, if you’d like.” 

“As long as you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.” 

“Then I’d like that.” Draco nodded his head again, but he did not smile. 

“Good. Then I will speak to you then.” With that he turned and made his way to the Slytherin table as you went to Ravenclaw, sitting with a few of your dorm mates. 

“Why were you holding hands with Draco Malfoy?” One of the girls asked, glaring and you felt yourself flush. 

“We’re engaged.” You answered simply. 

“Excuse me?” One of the girls asked, laughing incredulously. 

“Our parents.. Arranged our marriage. So we’re engaged.” They all shared a look you weren't a part of before going back to eating. You ate in silence mostly, none of them speaking a word to you, and you not trying to strike up a conversion with them either, lost in your own thoughts. When breakfast came the next morning they didn’t sit with you, and just like that- you were all on your own. 

Classes were difficult, the workload was almost unbearable, even for you. You spent most of your time in class, studying, or thinking about how you should be studying. You saw Draco in potions where you now sat together, and Charms, where he’d taken to sitting beside you as well. It was a welcomed dose of human interaction since none of your dormmates were speaking to you anymore, not that you were ever terribly close to any of them anyway. But it still stung. 

“Are you alright?” He asked you one class as you worked on your potion, stirring it clockwise twice then counterclockwise once, and you looked over surprised. 

“Fine, just thinking.” You answered. 

“I don’t mean right now.” He nudged you, taking the spoon to give you a break. “I mean in general. You seem sad lately.” You considered the question and shrugged. 

“I’m alright. Tired mostly. Restless.” 

“Why restless?” He asked, eyes on the brew between you. 

“Just bored. All I do is study and go to class.” 

“Don’t you hang out with your mates?” 

“I don’t...” You trailed off, and he glanced up at you, “I don’t really have any. Not right now.” He frowned. 

“Not right now?” 

“Well, apparently being engaged to a Slyherin doesn’t really make me friend material anymore.” You answered softly, and his frown deepened. 

“They stopped being friends with you because of me?” You shrugged. 

“I suppose. But that just means they were never really friends to begin with.” 

“I’m sorry.” He continued to frown at you, only looking away when your potion bubbled sinisterly, he went back to stirring. 

“Don’t be, I’m alright.”

“Everyone needs friends.” 

“I have you, don’t I?” He smiled slightly and shrugged his shoulders. 

“I don’t spend time with you. I’m kinda a rotten fiance aren’t I?” 

“Oh just the worst.” You teased, “In your defense, you don’t have much practice.” He chuckled slightly, and you watched him carefully. 

“I will attempt to be better. Perhaps we can study together sometime.” He offered up and you nodded your head, taking the spoon back again. 

“Alright, sounds good to me.” 

Every Thursday night you met Draco in the library to study. He was brilliant at potions, much better than you, and he was helping you pull Os on almost every assignment with ease, rather than the hours of work it would have taken you to do it on your own. You would study for a bit, get your assignment done, and then you would simply talk to each other in hushed voices, tucked away at a table in the back, as far from everyone else as possible. 

You told Draco about your book you were reading, and he had the decency to pretend to be interested, only teasing you sometimes about loving muggle books. 

“Read them now while you can, my father would die before he let you bring one into the house.” He said one Thursday evening and you frowned. 

“I’ll be living with you and your parents?” You asked, and he leaned back in his chair, tilting it onto two legs. 

“I assumed.” 

“We won’t, I don’t know, move out?” He shrugged.

“I guess eventually.” The idea of living in the large Malfoy manor with just Draco and his parents scared you, and he coull tell you were scared from one look on your face. He was eerily good at reading your moods, either that, or you were very bad at hiding them. 

“Eventually?” You prodded and he sat forward again, his chair legs thudding as they hit the floor. 

“After we graduate, I’m sure.” 

“Where will we live?”

“I don’t know, Y/N.” He admitted, running a hand through his platinum locks. “I really don’t. I wish I could give you something more, but no one has told me anything.”

“How can they simply not tell us?” You asked, leaning your elbows on the table, placing your face in your hands, “It’s our lives afterall, don’t we get a say.” He laughed bitterly. 

“No.” He was right. It wasn’t that simple, no matter how much you wished it was. You felt his hand on yours and you looked at him with a sad smile. “I’m sorry,” He murmured and you shrugged. 

“It isn’t your fault.” He knew it wasn’t, but that didn’t stop the guilt from laying heavily on his chest. He squeezed your hand tightly, hesitating a moment before leaning over to kiss your cheek. When he pulled back his pale skin was slightly tinted and you laughed. 

“What was that for?” 

“I don’t know, you looked like you needed it.” 

“Thank you Draco.” You gripped tightly to his hand, “For everything.” 

You were sitting in your common room reading in one of the big chairs in the corner when your dormmates past, whispering to themselves. They stopped beside you and you looked up at them, placing a finger on the line you were on. 

“Yes?” 

“How’s your fiance,” One asked, placing emphasis on the last word, you frowned deeply. 

“Fine, why?” 

“I heard he and Harry Potter got into a row, he’s in the hospital wing.” She said smugly. You were standing in an instant. 

“What?” 

“Mmhm.” 

“That’s- you rotten bitch, that’s not how you tell someone that!” You cried out, shoving past them as they all giggled. You had half a mind to turn around and deck one of them, but your feet carried you away, practically running to the door. Once in the dark corridor you broke into afull run in the direction of the hospital wing, not bothering to try and sneak, even if it was after hours. You burst into the room, looking around wildly at the empty beds, you were about to go to the first closed curtain you saw, to rip it open. One of them had to be hiding Draco. 

“Ms. Y/L/N!” Madam Pomfrey called out, “What do you think you are doing!” Your hand was on the curtain of the bed closest to you and you stopped, eyes wild with worry. 

“Where is Draco!?” You asked, if the duel was serious enough to warrant him being in the hospital wing, you needed to see him. Now. 

“It’s past curfew, Ms. Y/L/N.” You didn’t have time for this. 

“I am to be his wife, you are to tell me where he is!” 

“Y/N!” A weak voice, that didn’t sound like your soon to be husband’s called and you rushed towards the bed, past Pomfrey, who allowed you to go. You got to the bed the voice came from and took a deep breath before pulling back the curtain. What you saw horrified you, there were only a few moments in your life you remember fear cutting you so deeply as it did now. 

“Draco,” You breathed, taking a step forward before stopping, like even being near him might harm him, “What? What happened?” 

“Potter used a dark, powerful curse on him, but he will be alright darling, he needs to heal.” She tried to put a hand on your shoulder, to lead you away but you jerked from her grip. 

“No,” You whispered, not caring about consequences right now, “He needs me.” You looked at Draco, and he looked... so unlike himself, laying there in that bed. He was even paler then usual, and frail. Like if you blew too hard he’d crumble. His eyes were red and slightly swollen, but he was smirking. And that’s how you knew he’d be okay. 

“Alright,” Pomfrey eventually conceded. “If you’re caught, I had no knowledge of you being here, you snuck in.” 

“Yes ma’am..” You nodded your head, not looking away from Draco. She walked away from you both, pulling the curtain back as she did, yet you still didn’t move. Draco lifted a hand from the bed and beckoned you towards him, and you went, taking his hand when you reached him. “What happened?” You went to sit in the chair beside the bed but Draco pulled you closer, trying to make you sit on the side of his bed, but you were afraid, “Draco-”

“You’re not going to hurt me,” He promised, “I’m not in pain, Pomfrey has me on something good,” He assured and you winced slightly. That meant he had been in great pain. But you allowed him to guide you down so you were sitting beside him on the small hospital bed. “Merlin, Y/N. I thought you were going to rip Pomfrey's head off.” He tried to joke, but you didn’t really feel in a laughing mood. 

“Draco what happened?” You repeated your question, gripping his hand in both of yours, he squeezed back weakly. 

“We got into it, he was spying on me, I hexed him, he came back with... I don’t know what it was, something I never saw before. Sliced me open like a Christmas ham,” He chuckled and you frowned deeply at him. 

“It’s not funny, you could have died.” 

“But I didn’t,” He assured, “And I’m sure perfect little Potter is getting his, so I’m more than fine.” You wanted to cry just looking at him, but you managed to blink the tears away. “Are you crying?”

“No,” You sniffled lamely and Draco chuckled, pulling you closer by your hand. You allowed him to lead you into a lying position, so you were beside him in the bed, your head on his shoulder. 

“I’m alright,” He promised, “They said I’ll be good as new in a few days,” You laid your head on his shoulder, his hand still entwined with yours. 

“Don’t scare me like that again?”

“Why not? I liked seeing you all fired up, ready to kill to see me,” You smirked, turning your head to kiss a jumper covered shoulder. 

“I’m sure you did,” You murmured and he chuckled, turning his head to kiss your forehead. You looked up at him, your eyes locking. Draco brought his free hand up to your face, rubbing his thumb over your cheek gently before cupping your cheek. He wanted to kiss you, more than anything. He’d wanted to kiss you for weeks now, he had never moved so slow with a girl in his life but he found himself wanting to respect you and your space and your wants. But Merlin, he wanted you to want this. His eyes dropped down to your lips briefly before he looked back into your eyes, and you smirked slightly. 

“Gonna kiss me, Draco, or are you gonna stare at me all night.” He chuckled, smirking back. 

“I think I shall alternate between the two, actually.” And with that you were both leaning in, lips meeting gently in the middle. His kiss was much more tender than you ever expected it to be, frankly you were surprised he was capable of even being this tender. He pulled back and looked at you for another long moment, his thumb continuing to stroke your cheek before he kissed your forehead again, guiding your head to his shoulder. “Staying the night, I hope?” 

“Oh, you’re not getting rid of me that easily, love.” You assured, and Draco felt something in his chest tug at your words in a way he had never felt before. You were the closest he got to joy, he supposed it made sense you would be the closest he felt to love too. Draco closed his eyes, allowing his exhaustion to overtake him, so long as you were there beside him. You waited for the man to fall asleep, for his breath to even out before you looked at him again. He was so young, so peaceful when he was sleeping. You found yourself wishing he could look like that when he was awake. The closest he ever got were in the few rare moments you spent alone, and you couldn’t help but smiling at that. You made him happy. He made you happy. Maybe this would work. 

[welldonekhushi]

To Love An Indian | Tony Stark x Desi!Reader

Summary: The reader is a desi woman who was appointed as an assistant by Tony Stark. How will your relationship with the billionaire genius go?

Warnings: All fluff, used Hindi language! Translations are available.

Word Count: 2,914

The special fact about you was, being an Indian was something common about when you live in a western country.

Mostly migrate to other places for finding a job, same as you. Never believed once in your life, you're going to get a job of an assistant. For a billionaire genius, and a superhero.

Everyone in your family was so happy about it, at least they have expectations that their daughter will finally make her name and earn. Maybe find someone special that you find to be perfect in your life?

Your mom and dad always worked hard for you for a better future and lifestyle. They never been so happier when they found out you were being appointed for a job in America. They felt so successful and proud for making their daughter educated enough to send her further.

Your flight was tomorrow, but the nervousness just kicks inside that how would your interview go. It was actually Tony Stark, the genius, billionaire, playboy and philanthropist. You can't even mess up with him. But, there was one thing which bugged you about, a tingly feeling.

You remember him since the day when the world was saved from the Chitauri invasion, and everyone was celebrating about the victory of heroes. It filled throughout the Indian media, about the new superheroes, named as the Avengers, who fight the inside and outside evils. The moment Iron Man showed on the screen, you were left surprised. You kept staring at the hero saving others and making sure if they're secure.

Mostly! When he opened his mask, and revealed his face, everyone held such shocked faces, like they never knew Iron Man was basically a human inside controlling the suit.

"Lo, hum joh isse robot samaj rahe the, yeh toh insaan nikala!" Your grandmother exclaimed. (Wow, we thought he was robot, but he turned out to be a human?)

"Chodo na, dadi. Hai toh hero, na?" You replied, turning back to the television. (Leave, grandma. At least he's a hero, right?)

But, you kept looking at his face. The way he spoke, the way he actions, and everything. You were lost into the man, that suddenly you revealed your smile, your sister noticing it.

"Didi, kya hogaya?" Your sister broke your contact, making you jerk in an instant. (What's wrong, sis?)

"O-oh, k-kuch nahi. Bas me usse dekh rahi thi, baat karte hue." You stammered, looking back. (Oh, it's nothing. I was just looking at him, talking.)

"Oho, pyaar me toh nahi pad gaye na?" Your sister teased, making you blush. (Oh, are you falling in love, huh?)

"Aree! Pagal toh nahi ho? Of course nahi! Hero hai, respect karti hu." (Hey! Are you crazy? Of course no! He's a hero, and I respect him.)

You did appreciate him, but this kind of respect leading to somewhere else.

It was morning, and the time for your flight. Bidding everyone a heartwarming farewell, hoping to see your family soon again.

"Beta araam se jaana. Maine tere liye bahut saari kheer banayi hai. Kha lena agar bhuk lagi toh, thik hai?" (Dear, go easy while you leave. I made lots of pudding for you, so eat it if you feel hungry, alright?)

"Haa maa, ghabrao nahi. Me araam se jaaungi. Ashirvad do bas." You kneeled down to take blessing from your mom and dad, them giving it back. (Yes, mom don't worry. I'll go easy, just give me your blessing.)

"Khush raho, beti. Kaam karna aur naam roshan karna." Your father removed his spectacles, crying tears for her daughter leaving. (Be happy, my daughter. Work hard and make your name bright.)

You hugged your dad, weeping because he wasn't ready to accept the fact you were now leaving him for a long time. After breaking the hug, you wiped his tears, giving him confidence.

Stepping in the taxi, you bid them goodbye, waving your hand and leaving for the airport.

Your new life now began, the moment you entered America. Landing, you then stayed in the hotel for the night, tired and exhausted. But, along that you wanted to remember your lines, so you quickly revise and go to sleep. In the morning, you hurriedly reach Stark Tower for the interview, since the time was running a bit fast.

Entering in the huge interior, looking at a lot of people working in. It did made your nervousness kick in again, but behaved like a strong woman, just wanting to complete the interview as a badass.

You reached the receptionist. "Excuse me, can you tell me where will Mr. Stark take the interview?"

"Oh, on the 15th floor, meeting rooms."

"Thank you." You smiled, reaching the elevator and waiting for the floor to arrive. Checking your watch, you were two minutes late, but hoping they'll just manage. Entering the room, feeling the slight cold air hitting your skin. It seemed empty, but hoped he was waiting for a while.

"Uhm, Mr. Stark?" You called out.

"Come in, Miss (L/N)." A deep, masculine voice filled through the room, knowing someone was actually in. Stepping inside, and closing the door, you seat yourself, trying to hide away your nervousness. It seemed you were slowly forgetting your lines but, being a strong woman is your passion right? Who even can—

The moment the chair turned around towards your direction, you lost it. It looks like you totally forgot the lines now.

Because Tony Stark just faced in front of you.

Did you just, blush? No, it might be embarassment. But, he too stared at you for a while. It was like an awkward staring contest, but remembering you were here for an interview, you brought yourself back.

"Good morning, Mr. Stark. Sorry for being so late." You wipe off the flick of hair on your face.

"It's okay. At least you were on time." He replied, giving a smile. Damn, it was cute.

"So, Miss (L/N). You're from, India right?" He asked, looking at your documents.

"Y-yes! I'm from India, also fully graduated from college."

"What really made you accept this assistant job?" He started asking questions.

"I just don't want to work for money, but I want to find what better I can do while I'm by myself."

"That's everyone's expectations. We should really try something new, and it's a fact of finding your true self."

"Right." You nodded.

"Alright, I have appointed you, congrats." He closed the document and gave a grin.

You widen your eyes. "What? I-I thought you were going to ask more questions..?"

"I don't ask many of them, I know you're capable for everything so, no need." He shrugged.

"W-wow.. I mean, it's way different back there.. haha. What a prick I am." You chuckled.

"You shouldn't actually be uncomfortable or nervous around me, okay? I'll always be available for your problems." He stood up from his chair, and you also too. Offering his hand for a handshake, and you happily accept it.

"Congratulations for the job, Miss (L/N)."

"Aapka bahut, bahut dhanyawad." You accidentally speak in your language, making you cover your mouth in surprise. (Thank you very much.)

He raised his eyebrow in confusion, not sure what you really meant. "Excuse me?" He tilts his head, smirking.

"I-I meant, thank you for accepting me as your assistant, Mr. Stark.. I'm sorry about that." You replied, trying not to fluster from embarassment. But, it didn't seem to make him feel weird, he was like.. more interested?

"No no, it's fine. Accidents happen, but your language is just beautiful. Just tell me whenever you're about to speak Hindi, JARVIS, my AI will help me translate it." He chuckled, and you laugh back.

"Mr. Stark you're so funny." You shook your head and continued to laugh. He sees you smile, which somehow warmed his heart. You might not notice it, but something was being created in between.

And time actually told that, when you both worked together for a long time.

"Please, call me Tony."

✧

Years while working with Stark, you really enjoyed the job. He was a sweet, generous person who will look after you, hoping nothing worse happens. It kind of made you both like good friends, later on. Everytime you looked at him, some strange feelings always attacked you. You can't even guess what it means, but maybe because you really appreciate him.

One day came, when you even noticed about his weaknesses. It made you worry when he never came upstairs to sleep, so after a lot of convincing, he accepted your plead and slept. Even it became more forward, when Tony faced nightmares, and wanted to sleep with someone by his side.

He had been lonely, and it hurts.

His tired face made you want to rub it gently, and relax him to sleep. But, it looks like, you weren't friends anymore.

The way he became more protective and caring throughout your job in his mansion. Like a boyfriend.

But, the question came, does he even love you back, that you're feeling it all?

In the morning, Tony woke up to see the side of the bed empty. Maybe you were up early and started working. He got up and rubbed his hair, went downstairs to get some coffee. While drinking, he suddenly heard someone.. singing?

It didn't seem like an English song. It was foreign.

He could even hear the feminine sound softly, coming from the othe room.

Main tainu samjhawan ki, na tere bina lagda ji,

Main tainu samjhawan ki, na tere bina lagda ji,

Tu ki jaane pyaar mera, me karu intezaar tera,

Tu dil tuhiyo jaan meri

Main tainu samjhawan ki, na tere bina lagda ji,

When he slowly entered the room, you were the one singing while cleaning up the documents. Seriously, he never knew you sang so well. It literally made him feel so surprised, by seeing your other talent. He leaned on the door ledge, hearing you sing beautifully without noticing, like he was lost into it.

Everyday, whenever you used to sing this song while working, he secretly saw you and always adored your voice. It just made him fall in love.

On a particular day, he heard you sing the same song again. He stepped in the room, seeing your beautiful face and voice again.

In midway of your song, you turn around and see him on the doorway, and you gasped. "O-oh, Mr. Stark! G-good morning!"

"Good morning." He replied in his groggy, morning voice. "I never knew you sang so well. You never told me you even sing." He chuckled.

"Really..? I uhm, used to sing but, I had different plans.." You rub your hair, looking embarassed.

"But you sing so well.. I'm amazed." He smiled. "Problem is, I didn't understand because, that's a different language. God, I need to take Hindi classes from you, dang. What does it mean?"

You both laughed. "This song.. uhm actually is about, a lover, explaining his.. other lover that, he can't live without her, because they're deeply attached to each other. It's my favorite song, by the way."

"Oh really? You're into romantic songs, it seems." He raised his eyebrow and smirked, finding a seat.

"Yeah but, uhm.. because they show a lot meaning, even after I'm just a single-pringle, haha. Weird isn't it?"

He stared at you for sometime, it wasn't serious, but gentle. "It's not."

You blushed, don't know why but the tone of his voice dragged into it. Both kept staring at each, and had no idea about the surroundings.

You were the one to break through, coming back to reality. "Oh! S-sorry I just got lost.. a while back."

He got up from his chair, and went closer to your direction. Looking at each other's eyes, he found yours the most beautiful. Felt like he can swim in it. Caressing your cheek and rubbing it with his thumb, you started to panic inside, not able to notice what's happening now.

"Y/N.." He said, in a soft voice. "I.. wanted to ask about something."

You gulped, still flustered. "W-what is it?"

He realised something else, and then cleared his throat. ".. can you, teach me Hindi?"

"Huh?" You looked surprised.

"Yeah, I told a very while back, that I will once ask you to teach me Hindi. I'm very interested, can you please?" He flashed a grin. Like, there was no problem for you to teach him your language. It's good to make others know about your culture.

You gave him a nod as a reply, and he became excited. "Thank you, I'll gladly be your student, Miss Y/N."

✧

For weeks, Tony had been taking Hindi classes from you. I swear, it could have been tough for him, but he was just so interested to learn the language. All you know he was just keen so you were teaching him all that. Giving him assignments and worksheets with grammar, you helped him through everything.

"Maine khana khaya.." You said the words, and waited for him to recite back. (I ate my food.)

"Maine khana.. khaya? Did I say it right?" He replied, in a weird way because his American accent was also mixing in between.

"No no, you're going correctly! Now say it again."

"Maine khana khaya." Tony said it properly.

"Good! I'm proud of you. Damn, Tony. You're going good in this language."

"For you, I can do anything, even learning a tough language."

The moment which left you blank again. He still fixed his soft eyes with yours, clearing your throat to break the tension.

"Okay so, do you have any doubts so far?

"Well, uh. I have a doubt, many of them." He rubbed his nose.

"Ask me."

He first rubs his hands nervously, then looks back at you. "How do you say.. love in Hindi?"

"Oh, well.. pyaar." You replied, being straightforward.

"Okay.. now how do we say, you're beautiful in it?"

You felt a tingly feel in your stomach, but still continued. "Tum khoobsurat ho."

He chuckles. "Alright. Now, if I ask my final doubt.. how do I say.. I love you?"

You gasped. Did he really mean it? Clenching your pen, you became nervous.

"Tell me, my love. I want to know about it."

".. me tumse pyaar karta hu."

"Yes, that is what I wanted to hear." He skids closer to you, growing close to your face.

"Mujhe tumse pyaar hai." He said, properly in Hindi. You felt like to explode. Tony Stark.. loves you?

Suddenly, he gets up from the couch, offering his hand. You grab it and get up, till a familiar song plays in the room.

Tony grabbed your waist from one arm and your hand from the other, swifting to the movements as if they're dancing.

He started singing the song, when the verse began.

- play it now! -

"Main tainu samjhawan ki, na tere bina lagda ji.." He sang the line so perfectly. You were just shocked and surprised. Both were dancing like a couple on stage.

Main tainu samjhawan ki, na tere bina lagda ji..

Tu ki jaane pyaar mera, me karu intezaar tera,

Tu dil tuhiyo jaan meri

Main tainu samjhawan ki, na tere bina lagda ji..

While he was singing your favorite song, you were about to burst in tears. You never believed it. The billionaire genius, actually loved you this whole time. Happily resting your head on his chest, he continued to dance while holding you close. When the song finished, he still saw the tears in your eyes.

"D-did you wanted to learn Hindi.. b-because of all this?" Your voice cracked.

"Yes, my love. Just for you. I have to tell this but.. I fell in love the moment I saw you for the first time. Your smile, laugh, voice, behavior, eyes.. and your.."

"And your.. what?"

He sighed, and then leaned to close the gap between your lips. The kiss was sweet yet passionate, like he waited for this moment.

He pulled off for air, both of your gazes neutrally looking. "I'm surprised that I fell in love with an Indian, like you. But, you're pretty, no matter what nationality you belong to. You changed my life Y/N. Trust me, the way you took care of, pampered, and worried for me.. I can never forget that. I really love you for that, my love. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.. d-do you accept me as your boyfriend?"

You started to sob, clenching his shirt tight. Maybe she wasn't happy about it. "L-look, if you don't accept, it's okay.. you deserve. Alot better than—"

"Yes, yes and a million times yes!" You said excitedly, and he sighs in relief. "Did you like.. learn the entire song?"

"Yeah, I even did take help from JARVIS for the translation, also from your teachings, never forgetting that." He winked.

"Oh god.." You laughed.

"But come on, you didn't like it? Tell me!"

"I did, Tony. And I want to thank you for it, a lot."

He gently wipes off your tears, and kisses your forehead. "Now, do you want to celebrate for our engagement?"

"Like where, Mr. Stark?" You said, flirtatiously.

He darkens his eyes, and picks you in the bridal style. "Right in our shared bedroom, sweetheart." He takes you in the room while giggling, shutting the door from inside.

[spiltscribbles]

this night seems so long!

~Notes: I’m reposting this and i’m still not happy with it :S rip XS

SEND ME A PROMPT  |  A REBLOG MEANS THE WORLD!

.-

It is pleasant, indeed, while the summer lasts

with the mild pheasants' song ...

but now I feel the northern wind's blast—

its severe weather strong. 

Alas! Alas! This night seems so long!

And I, because of my momentous wrong

now grieve, mourn and fast.

TS Eliot

.-

The late summer chill seeps through the creeping windows into the flat that they once called home— the feebly standing, slowly disintegrating haven that was painted with laughter before lies, with hopeful kisses before hesitant touches. The cold burrows itself into Sirius’s bones and coats his every thought and  nests deep inside of him until he’s more frost than man.

But then he sees Remus— beautiful and golden and perfect Remus— padding out their bedroom clad in Sirius’s oversized jumper that swallows his hands whole, and that familiarly gentle smile that makes his eyes glitter  once his soft gaze rests on Sirius, and his sleep supple  skin tastes like the things too beautiful to name. He tastes like Remus— like sunlight and parchment and whispered laughter and raspy groans and that’s all Sirius ever wants, has ever wanted.

“It’s September first.” He says once Sirius finally unlatches from his neck, red faced and pleased, and Sirius swears that Ganymede has nothing on him. That if he could he’d restructure every celestial star from above to follow the precise slope of his nose, and the pedal soft curve of his cheek, and the path of his jawline to temple. For everyone to worship him in ways he’s always deserved.

“We’ve made it another month,” Sirius retorts, mixes the splash of milk with the sugar in Remus’s Earl Gray, which is a travesty and a point of teasing throughout their whole relationship since they were nothing but lads. Sirius blames Remus’s beverage faux pas— including his preferential nature to black coffee—to being raised by a Frenchman for a mother, and Remus always counters that if Sirius was any more bloody English he’d be afraid that Queen Elizabeth would poach him for her next husband. Which of course always ended the argument because then Lily would laugh from besides him, and Sirius would glare along with James— both hating it when Remus and Lily’s Muggle references go over their heads like a second language they couldn’t speak.

But Lily’s not here, and neither is James. They’re tucked away in another safe house— the fourth in a calendar year, and they’re both going a bit mad if the letter Lily sent him only a few weeks ago is anything to go by. And Sirius aches for the both of them, aches for baby Harry— his one year old God son who he loves like nothing else. And how could he not? He’s Lily’s bright eyes set into James’s open face, has James’s warm, brown complexion but inherited Lily’s freckles too. He’s Sirius’s God son, and there’s a mad man after him, and sometimes it feels like Sirius’s brain is a mushy, muddled stew melting out of his scalp when he’s forced to contemplate on it for too long— to contemplate on how little Harry seems incapable of escaping the danger— because it goes back to the same name over and over again. The name of someone Sirius refuses to ever let himself contemplate for longer than a breath.

“Aye,” Remus says in that lilting, Welsh bread accent of his before he takes a slow sip and Sirius is left to study the sweep of his long lashes against his fine bones and how less than a fortnight ago that face Sirius adores so endlessly  came home caked in mud and blood that was only partially  Remus’s own and Sirius wasn’t allowed to ask what happened while he cleaned the cuts and kissed the healed pink skin with gentle reverence. “Maybe 82 will be our year Paddy.” Remus says with such raw yearning that it blows the wind out of Sirius like he’s  just taken a bludger to the gut. And he feels so stupid and thankful all at once. Because of course those idl contemplations are nothing but ridiculous fodder. Of course Remus would never— could never.

“Yeah moony,” he says quietly. “Maybe it will.”

Sirius steps forwards, and he kisses him and Remus breathes out like he’s been holding it for a long while, and then his fingers slide into Sirius’s overgrown hair and tugs,  and they’re lost in one another for the rest of the morning.

.-

Three days later Remus leaves again under demands that he won’t ever disclose to Sirius— penance for the trust Sirius broke as a schoolboy with a prank that proved near deadly— and a week after that the Order gets news that the Prewettss were compromised, that it took five of those Death Eater bastards to finish them off, and that their older sister with seven kids of her own can’t bare to hold a public wake.

The cold gets worse, and Sirius doesn’t know where to step to avoid another avalanche; is afraid that with every move he takes, a landmine is waiting to blast.

.-

The bare branches of the elderly tree outside their flat knocks against the partition that once bathed them  in spilt sunlight and stolen serenity and careful comfort. It scrapes against the glass like the fingers of an inferi, accentuated by the sound of the whistling wind, crooning like the menacing melody by a milky eyed, haggard looking banshee. And everything is unmoving, everything is still— petrified for a moment in frozen history.

And Sirius feels his insides collapse when he remembers that he’ll never hear Gideon’s laughter or see Fabian sat next to Benjy again. It’s a generation lost, Sirius thinks morbidly, the way he always gets when Remus isn’t home and he’s tossing back shots of Fire-Whiskey like it’s what keeps his veins pumping life. A generation  of them that’s being killed off one by one, a generation of Hogwarts graduates being obliterated and there’s not an end in sight and Sirius wants to scream. He wants to fight them with his bare hands. He wants to ravage each of their hideouts and use them as target practice for his unforgivables and he wants to run, God he wants to run. He wants James and Lily and Harry to come with him, wants to steel Remus in the middle of the night before he knows what’s even happening. He wants to escape it all and hold onto his family with a iron grip that can only be severed through death.

Sirius wants it so much that it begins to ache, to twist in his stomach and weep within the hollows of his bones.

But then the branches knock against the window once more, and he’s brought back to a reality the makes even idyllic daydreams like that something treacherous and awful. So he pours himself another finger and raises the glass to fallen friends and pretends that the throbbing in his heart is something that can be spelled away if he only works hard enough.

.-

Remus comes home a week later and Sirius feigns that the sight of his lover doesn’t make Sirius picture Marlene’s twisted face of agony and Dorcas’s limp body at the feet of this dark wizard that has destroyed everything Sirius has ever known and tainted everything he has ever loved.

.-

The safe house is sparsely decorated, save for the candle Lily’s always got burning and the succulent she keeps on a shelf besides a small portrait of Harry, tucked between one of her and James on their wedding day, and another of the five of them at their Hogwarts graduation. 

It’s no home, especially not one for a baby that’s as curious and boisterous as little Harry. It’s a prison at best. still packed boxes strewn about the ground, and  a tension permeating the air and it’s awful. But Sirius manages to forget about it when he glances to his right and sees a giggling Harry bouncing happily on Remus’s lap, and Remus is glowing in a way Sirius hasn’t seen for edging on a year. The stiffness threaded through his shoulders has dissipated and his smile is wide and he’s dotingly kissing Harry’s chocolate splattered cheek while James and Lily roll their eyes fondly from across the breakfast spread. And Sirius thinks that if this is all he sees for the rest of his life he would thank every God and every spirit above.

“Uncle Moony, you better be convincing Harry that if he doesn’t eat his berries that the boogie man will come and munch on his toes tonight,” Lily scolds half heartedly, which makes James drop a kiss to the crown of her head before topping off her tea.

“No toes, mommy! No toes!” Harry babbles in that in-between state of gargling and speech that is as precious as it is incomprehensible.

“Saucy boy,” Sirius chuckles, tousling Harry’s already hopelessly disheveled hair and kissing the corner of Remus’s lips that taste like hazelnut and blueberries and a bit like sunlight too. And he thinks that this is what happiness feels like— He’s nearly forgot.

“I’ll get’m washed up, shall I?” Remus says as he rises swiftly from his seat, Harry clapping excitedly. 

“Good man,” James winks and Lily blows him a kiss. Remus looks down at Sirius, a brow cocked slightly.

“I’ll be up in a minute, yeah? Just wanted to help these plonkers with the dishes.”

Remus grins brightly and nods, and then, he stilts— like in hesitation— before kissing Sirius’s temple, promptly shuffling off and humming Harry an old French lullaby that he knows Hope once sang him when he was a boy.

And Sirius’s heart feels so full, so fragile, And Sirius hates that he didn’t tell him I love you, is afraid that the space of time that they’ll get to say that to one another is rapidly dwindling.

“We’re finishing up all the kinks in the plan,” James says, saddling up besides  Sirius, handing him a sponge and keeping the dishcloth in his own. “You still want to act as secret keeper?”

“Course you daft wanker,” Sirius bristles. “I’d do anything for you lot.”

“I know,” James says unflinchingly.  “You and Moony are the best friends a bloke can ask for.”

And God that hurts like nothing else, so Sirius doesn’t even try to retort in any meaningful sort of way.  “Don’t forget Wormyy.”

James laughs. “Would never dare.”

And then silence drops over them like a heavy quilt threatening to smother them to death. And Sirius scrapes off the grime from the dishes and pretends that the plate isn’t still scratched and battered even once the debris is gone. And he swallows down the lump in his throat when he remembers that Remus is leaving again in a matter of hours.

.-

Remus is still curved around Sirius like a blessing stroked to life  with heavenly colors the morning after he gets back. Sirius wraps his arms around him, squeezes tightly and berries his head into his neck, wanting to feel him, to smell him all over. And as they lie down in that heap in the bed Sirius has always called theirs, but Remus has only ever referred to as Sirius’s, he sobs.

“Don’t go Remus, don’t leave me anymore. Just stay here, stay with me. I love you so much that I’m afraid I’ll crack with it and I know you don’t— that you can’t feel the exact same way— but please, just don’t leave us. Stay here, stay and love me too.”

Remus’s even breaths never falter, and he never flutters his eyes open, but Sirius has known him for nearly half his life, and he knows it like he knows his own name that Remus is awake and simply doesn’t answer him. 

What Sirius doesn’t know is what that means.

.-

They’re sitting on either end of the couch now. 

Sirius is pretending to fill out a crossword but is actually trying to decode a letter they had been able to intercept between McNair and a lower ranking Death Eater about some assignation that was meant to be held in the wee hours of October seventh. But every few minutes his eyes wander to Remus, to how he’s curled up with a book of poetry in one hand and his blanket swathed around him. His fringe is hanging in limp curls and the circles beneath his eyes are only that much more prominent, that much more sickly. And his gaze is large and fragile in a way Sirius has never seen. And he wants to slide the novel out of Remus’s hands and he wants to kiss away his frown, and he wants to lock his fingers through the holes in his green sweater and he wants Remus in every way imaginable, to tell him I love you and I love you and I love you so much its like I’m dying. He wants to kiss the inside of his elbow and the knot of his ankle and beneath his naval too. He wants him and knows that he’ll never stop wanting him, and is sure that this— this love— will prove his Achilles’ Heal, and Remus is Patroclus destined to leave him  first and Sirius is destined to wallow in ruin.

Sirius wants to beg him to stay here, to stay with him, to love him like he knows he does.

But Sirius simply does not— Does not tell him any of that.

They haven’t spoken to one another with words for days now, and it feels pathetic and hopeless— the way they only regard one another with stiff lips and cautious glances in the daylight, but that doesn’t stop them still clutching for one another once the sun dips into the  horizon. Like if they can convince themselves that the sex is still miraculous that they still love each other too. As if their bodies aren’t just vessels, aren’t just sacks of skin and bone. And it feels like they’re both giving up on one another and holding on to each other with equal fervency. And Sirius doesn’t know anything any more.

It’s pathetic and it’s painful and it’s pointless. It’s so obviously over, it’s been over for nearly half a year, but they’ve always been cowards when it came to one another. And Sirius doesn’t think that will ever change.

So he only settles deeper into the couch, and he keeps the Shakespeare in Remus’s grasp, and he moves his free hand to deftly clutch around one of Remus’s cold feet, and he squeezes and Remus freezes, and they both breathe for the first time in far too long. But then Remus pulls away, and Sirius lets go before he can feel the sting of rejection and they go back to pretending to go on.

.-

Remus is gone the next morning for a council with Dumbledore, so Sirius wanders the flat like a ghost with no direction, no idea what’s next.

He decides to tidy up the space, like it matters, like anything is normal. And when he reaches for the empty mug on Remus’s nightstand, he sees that his book of poetry is still open, and he lifts it to glance at the sonnet written their in black and white…

When my love swears that she is made of truth

I do believe her, though I know she lies,

That she might think me some untutor’d youth,

Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties.

And Sirius throws it hard against the wall before he can read another word.

.-

Remus is preparing for another mission for reconnaissance, tells Sirius that night over their curry take away. And it feels like the world is dissolving right in front of Sirius’s eyes, like his lungs have forgotten how to breathe during those interludes where Remus leaves without a trace— only starting up again when he returns smelling of blood and fear and the outdoors. And Sirius hates everything so much— Is afraid that he hates Remus most of all some days, even if he’s the one person he can’t fathom existing without. 

.-

The sky breaks open that night and rain pellets down like the bullets from the Muggle films that Remus loved showing him, before the war, and before his disappearing act, and before it felt like a knife was plunged into Sirius’s chest every time he looked at him— and the only worst thing than this would  be if he stopped seeing Remus all together, because he knows it like the innate way he knew how to move his lips against Remus’s on that feted day towards the start of seventh year— that the knife would simply be pulled out and he’d bleed to death bit by bit. 

It hurts like nothing else loving him, but Sirius can’t fathom a world where he does not. Where he doesn’t get to trace the consolation of freckles dusting his high cheekbones, where he doesn’t get to kiss the singular mole at the nape of his neck that’s ordinarily covered up by his thick jumpers. A world where they don’t intwine in the ways that lovers are want to do.

Sirius loves Remus even if he knows it’s fruitless because there’s a war destroying the world and there’s a spy in the order and Remus is the only one who’s brilliant in a reserved way  and cunning when he wants to be and the only one who knows how to properly keep a secret from his friends like it’s a second skin that he wears as effortlessly as a cloak.

And God.

Remus is sitting besides him now, a pinky’s breath away from his perch on the sofa.

There are words that writhe in Sirius’s throat, clacking against his teeth, begging to spill out. He wants to tell Remus he loves him, that he’d forgive him anything. He wants to tell him that Remus can Avada Kedavra him in the cold morning light and Sirius would still only see him bathed in an etherial  glow, but can’t see him doing that to their dearest friends, to Harry who is sacred and should always be protected. He wants to beg him to just speak, to tell Sirius the truth, to tell Sirius he still loves him. Beg Remus to run away with him. To go off to Prague or Cordova or maybe even the states, to say sod it to the whole damn war and just spend their days and nights tangled up with naked limbs and sweaty sheets.

And he thinks he will, thinks that the burning sensation of want within him is too furious to tempt down anymore.

But then the dying sun shimmers through the window, unspools in Remus’s honey curls and twinkles in his butterscotch eyes that were once always dancing with a quiet humor that enthralled Sirius to him like a drifter to a prophet. And it’s not healthy, this vigil he’s always held for him— especially now, especially with his suspicions that James begrudgingly agrees with and Lily fumingly does not— but Sirius’s never been one for self preservation, has never known how to let a scab heal over naturally. He has to poke and prod until it scars, until it becomes a indelible part of him. 

They stay there like that for either a minute or hour more, and when Sirius sees that Remus finally has enough of their staring match, he begins to move away, and it is Sirius— with a quick hand and desperate need— who presses him back down to the cushions with a hot mouth and wandering palms and he pretends that all he feels at the sound of the whimper Remus lets out is pleasure and not pain from his heart chipping that much more.

And this is vacant of words too. This is just instincts and moans and intuition of knowing another’s body and pleasure points and wants  for half a decade now.

They make it to the bedroom and Sirius refuses to be gentle, refuses to deprive himself of anything, and Remus is matching him with every thrust.

When they kiss its wet, and Sirius knows its the tears leaking out their eyes, and he knows in that unspoken, understanding way that this is the final time. That when Remus leaves later tonight, he’ll stay gone, that he won’t ever sleep besides Sirius again, won’t ever hold him like this. Sirius will never get to see him in the splendid, golden hours of morning and never get to run away with him after all. So Sirius blunders Remus’s mouth with his hard tongue, and he relishes the way Remus bites on his bottom lip until he tastes blood. And he throws them onto the mattress and they wrestle together in the sheets, scratching and pulling and canting obscenely. And when Sirius kisses his protruding collar bone it’s I’m saying I love you, and when Remus sucks on the hinge of Sirius’s jaw it feels like an apology. And when Sirius squeezes the scar on his inner thigh where the very first bite mark lies mangled and knotted in his skin, he’s begging him one last time to stay, and when Remus tells him in a voice that’s tenuous and tender and filled with sorrow, “Fuck me” the syllables slot together in a different formation that sound like “I’m already gone.”

They’re having parallel conversations and they’re not speaking and it’s the end.

So Sirius bucks against him and Remus wraps his long, long legs around Sirius’s narrow waste, and Sirius codes his fingers with the lube they’ve always kept in his nightstand and is fast when he plunges them into that ring of tight, tight muscle, when he stretches and scissors  and slicks him open, spurred on  by Remus’s gargled words begging him. “Now Sirius, now, now. Do it now.”

So he doesn’t bother with any of the rest of it. He barely sheaths himself half way before he has to stop, has to catch his breath, to re acclimate himself to the pressure. But then he hears Remus whimper and he surges forwards and doesn’t let up this vicious rhythm that he hears pulsing in his fucking ears. And it’s graceless and it’s hard and it’s a bit rushed but it’s what they need. And when Remus tosses back his head— features twisted up with emotion— Sirius berries his face into his neck and he feels his tears intermingling with Remus’s own and Remus’s loud pleads for him to go rougher, to stay longer, to keep fucking into him. So Sirius listens because there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Remus— even now— and he focusses on his hand circling Remus’s length, on pumping it with a tight fist and a bit of a twist, the way Remus has always preferred it. And he hears Remus croaking out an “I’ve always loved you,” and even if those words are too late, too little, too hollow, they still work to bring him off the edge, and Sirius thrusts deeper only twice more before he’s releasing himself into him— into the love of his life— quickly followed by Remus’s own cock whimpering out it’s own climax. And it feels like the ending to the story Sirius never wanted to stop being told.

But before he can pull out his overstimulated prick from Remus’s arse, Remus just squeezes him with his legs,  eyes fluttering shut while he rests his arms around Sirius’s broad shoulders. “Just stay.” he asks. “Stay until I have to go.”

And the sound of him— so desperate so pliant so tired— breaks the rest of his heart so much so that Sirius feels the remains splintering in his lungs and shattering open his ribcage with a sob he never lets out until Remus is gone.

“Anything you want Moony. Whatever you ask.”

And Remus’s lips twitch up into the best approximation of a smile that he’s given Sirius in far too long, and Sirius rests his head against Remus’s chest, and kisses the freckles that he was so elated to find their the first time they had done this. And he takes in deep the scent of  cinnamon and citrus and sunlight that’s always clung to his skin, and he thinks that this is the first time they’re letting each other feel hopeless together.

.-

The cold has turned over to a blizzard, and it seizes the flat once more the next morning.

Remus is gone and Sirius is left alone and nothing is right.

So he grabs the floo powder from the beautiful, ceramic container Hope had gifted Remus when he first moved into the flat the summer after their seventh year, and he finds James waiting for him on the other side, and he’s never taken in just how exhausted and terrified and sad his brother is looking these days.

“Wotcher, Pads.” James says, sipping on his tea with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and nothing is alright, nothing will probably ever be alright again.

“Hiya, Prongsie,” Sirius says, hearing just how threadbare his voice sounds in the quiet of the Potter cottage.

“So just a morning call? Or would you like me to fetch Haz for you?”

Sirius swallows the lump in his throat and forces himself to speak.  “James I love you more than life, love Lily and the sprog just as much— But—“ he chokes up right then before ramming forwards. “I can’t— I can’t be the—“

“I know,” James interrupts, a thin, forgiving smile on his face. “Pete’ll have to do, but I’d still rather it you.”

“I’m so sorry James.”

“Me too.”

.-

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

[neoptolemid]

Neoptolemus super doc ? ??

ARE WE ABSOLUTELY SURE,, , ,, ,

uh okay, I pull together my super document of Pyrrhus, have pardon cause it's a bit old and i'm gonna spread it through like 3 or 4 posts probably , , so uh enjoy and I'm sorry for all grammatical errors

Skyros

Pyrrhus was born by the name Pyrrhus and this was based either on his red hair or due to Achilles name of Skyros being Pyrrha.

When it comes to appearances I generally describe him as a good mix of both Deidamia and Achilles’ traits, having inherited Deidamia’s red hair and Achilles Blue/teal eyes. He is around the middle of both of his parent’s height as I make Achilles 6’0 and Deidamia 5’3 when full grown, Pyrhhus rounds out to be 5’6. He also has a number of beauty marks which are similar to Achilles’.

It is unknown how long Achilles stayed on Skyros or when Pyrrhus was born. Either way Achilles did know about his son, we know this from the fact Achilles makes references to his son within the Iliad and Odyssey.

I like to believe that part of Pyrrhus growing up with his mother and aunts is that he has a lot of appreciation for women’s crafts and what they do. That he as a younger child would simply sit and be by his mother and/or aunts as they worked enjoying their company.

He would try his best growing up to join into their songs and dances, and at least once dressed himself in girls clothes to show his mother and aunts which got a good laugh out of them.

From Quintus ‘Fall of Troy’ we are informed that learning to fight and it was Odysseus and Diomedes who came with their black sails to ask him to join the war cause. He was promised to marry Menelaus’s daughter Hermione, he was also promised to have Achilles’ armor and gold, riches, and glory for coming with them.

While work will generally age him to being a young man or simply portray him to be very well spoken, if you follow along with the time line it is very possible that Pyrrhus is only 11 or 12 when he leaves Skyros, I tend to write him as being 13 for my own comfort.

Another thing to note form Quintus’s piece on Pyrrhus is they depict this being especially sad for Deidamia, she is written as having weeped and weeped. She doesn’t want him to leave because she doesn’t want him going to war and leaving her. She doesn’t want him hurt and she doesn’t want another person she loves leaving her again.

Deidamia Pyrrhus’s mother is written as loving him and I interpret bits of this story as Pyrrhus is the only tie to Achilles she has. Generally I prefer the idea that Deidamia did care for Achilles and so it did break her heart that he left and she had hoped that he would return eventually to her and their son.

Over the years she understood more and more that he would not return, so all she had was her son, and then eventually they come and take him from her as well.

Mattering on the version of the story, it is fully possible that Deidamia may have never seen her son again once he left the island.

Dawn climbed the wide-arched heaven, straightway they rose from their beds. Then Deidameia knew; and on her son's broad breast she cast herself, and bitterly wailed: her cry thrilled through the air, as when a cow loud-lowing mid the hills seeks through the glens her calf, and all around Echo long ridges of the mountain-steep; so on all sides from dim recesses rang the hall; and in her misery she cried: "Child, wherefore is thy soul now on the wing to follow strangers unto Ilium the fount of tears, where perish many in fight, yea, cunning men in war and battle grim? And thou art but a youth, and hast not learnt the ways of war, which save men in the day of peril. Hearken thou to me, abide here in thine home, lest evil tidings come from Troy unto my ears, that thou in fight hast perished; for mine heart saith, never thou hitherward shalt from battle-toil return. Not even thy sire escaped the doom of death -- he, mightier than thou, mightier than all heroes on earth, yea, and a Goddess' son -- but was in battle slain, all through the wiles and crafty counsels of these very men who now to woeful war be kindling thee. Therefore mine heart is full of shuddering fear lest, son, my lot should be to live bereaved of thee, and to endure dishonour and pain, for never heavier blow on woman falls than when her lord hath perished, and her sons die also, and her house is left to her desolate. Straightway evil men remove her landmarks, yea, and rob her of her all, setting the right at naught. There is no lot more woeful and more helpless than is hers who is left a widow in a desolate home."

Lemnos

Pyrrhus agrees to go with them and on the way they stop by the island of Lemnos to get Philoctetes. Odysseus makes Neoptolemus lie to Philoctetes because he knows that he hates Odysseus because he is the man who abandoned him on Lemnos and he knows that Philoctetes doesn’t want to go to Troy but back to Greece and to his home.

This causes a Pyrrhus strife because he has been taught to be noble up until now, in the play Philoctetes by Sophocles we are shown multiple times how this causes him strife because he is having to lie. Philoctetes also considers Pyrrhus to be a friend because Pyrrhus lies and says that he wants to go back home to Skyros because of the way he is treated by the other Greeks even though he hasn’t met any of them yet to our knowledge.

Good lines from this play that I personally characterize him are

‘It would have been better if i had never left scyros. Everything around me oppresses me ..’

‘He’ll (odysseus) claim i’m too soft-hearted’

‘I can’t. It is right and in our interest to listen to those in authority’

Some of the best development to see from this is how he was raised to be noble and how he doesn’t want to trick people or lie, he wants to be honest.

Another thing I find interesting to read from specifically this play is how Pyrrhus is very rarely called by his own name, he is almost always referred to ‘son of achilles’ and also in this play he is often referred to as ‘child’ or ‘boy’.

While none of these things are brought up as an issue in the play I do think it is a detail you can play with, like how it might weigh on an individual to be always referred to by your famous father or how people don’t recognize you by your name but by your father’s.

I think these are things that would weigh on Pyrrhus he wants to live up to his father but it also oppresses him to be referred in such a way. He wants to be like his father but he is still his own individual which he doesn’t feel recognized by as people continually anything but his own name.

To the idea of playing into the fact he is also often called ‘boy’ or ‘child’ These could be names that eventually upset and anger him. He is being dragged into this war like he is old enough to fight, which he is not and yet he is not recognized as such by those around him.

It is a case of a child feeling indignatinge by being called terms which denote being naive, though I like to think there is some justification for his anger because this isn’t just a small thing but he is being taken into a man's world.

In Philoctetes he is referred to by the name Neoptolemus, he was given this name by Phoenix, a man also considered to be a father by Achilles. Phoenix is one of the oldest men in the Trojan war and he is either involved with Pyrrhus coming from the island to Skyros to the war or some time later down the road. He gave him this name because it means ‘new war/warrior’ it is meant to reflect how Achilles himself was a young man when he entered the war.

It is honestly more common to see Pyrrhus referred to as Neoptolemus by the Greeks and Pyrrhus by Roman sources to my knowledge. (i’ll be using Pyrrhus just for simplicity)

Troy

There are a lot of various stories that have to do with the fall of Troy, we have records again from Quintus “Fall of Troy” and the “Aeneid” by Vergil. There are also a number of plays by the three tragedians of Ancient Greece(Sophocles, Euripides, Aeschylus) that have to do with the end of the war and various stories of the aftermath.

While Pyrrhus doesn’t appear in these very often they still help to give more insight to his possible character.

Pyrrhus makes a minor appearance within the play of ‘hecuba’ and is in the background of ‘andromache’, he makes no appearance within this story but he is directly related to things happening in the play.

Back onto the subject of the fall of Troy, he is regarded as the killer of both Astyanax and Priam. These are generally agreed upon details and sometimes Odysseus fills the role of Pyrrhus when the story decides they don’t want to introduce more characters.

He is generally described as being ‘battle-eager’ ‘Fierce-hearted’ and a few other epithets relating to fighting. In general he is not described as being worse than anyone else. The fall of Troy is a greek work and all the Greeks within this work are killing and fighting people. He is by all means a competent fighter within the text.

In the Odyssey when Odysseus goes into the underworld and speaks with the dead, and when Achilles comes to speak he asks about his son.

Odysseus describes him as

‘but I can tell you all about your son Neoptolemus, for I took him in my own ship from Scyros with the Achaeans. In our councils of war before Troy he was always first to speak, and his judgement was unerring. Nestor and I were the only two who could surpass him; and when it came to fighting on the plain of Troy, he would never remain with the body of his men, but would dash on far in front, foremost of them all in valour. Many a man did he kill in battle- I cannot name every single one of those whom he slew while fighting on the side of the Argives, but will only say how he killed that valiant hero Eurypylus son of Telephus, who was the handsomest man I ever saw except Memnon; many others also of the Ceteians fell around him by reason of a woman's bribes. Moreover, when all the bravest of the Argives went inside the horse that Epeus had made, and it was left to me to settle when we should either open the door of our ambuscade, or close it, though all the other leaders and chief men among the Danaans were drying their eyes and quaking in every limb, I never once saw him turn pale nor wipe a tear from his cheek; he was all the time urging me to break out from the horse- grasping the handle of his sword and his bronze-shod spear, and breathing fury against the foe. Yet when we had sacked the city of Priam he got his handsome share of the prize money and went on board (such is the fortune of war) without a wound upon him, neither from a thrown spear nor in close combat, for the rage of Mars is a matter of great chance.'

In general from the greek sources he is described as nobly.

He is noted for killing quite a few people during the fall of Troy but his most notable kills are Priam, who he kills within the throne room (to my knowledge) and Astyanax who is killed after Troy has fallen.

In the Aeneid by Vergil he is described in ways that frame him a more villainous or evil way

‘The fatal work inhuman Pyrrhus plies,’

During when Pyrrhus is about to kill Priam there is a line that I believe characterizes him as more of a tragic character than anything else. Before killing Priam, Priam berates him about how Pyrrhus is about to treat Priam because of how Achilles showed him humanity and how Achilles gives Priam his son’s body back. This is partly brung up because Pyrrhus getting into the throne room kills one of Priam’s sons in front of his face.

The line basically translates out to be Pyrrhus telling Priam that when he dies and sees his father to tell him of the terrible deed of his son, of how terrible his son is.

In the translation that I read they use the line ‘Tell him of degenerate Neoptolemus’

When in the context of the Philoctetes I think this paints Pyrrhus as being a rather tragic and sad character, because prior to going to the island of Lemnos Pyrrhus tried to act most noble, he wants to be noble like his father. When on Lemnos he has his morals questioned and is forced to go against his morales at the hand of Odysseus.

I interpret this as him vocalizing how he might be upset with himself as he is forced to look at the reality of war which isn’t noble or glorious at all. He wants to live up to the noble idea of his father and everything he is forced to do makes him feel terrible.

I personally think that Pyrrhus probably doesn’t know a lot about the terrible things that Achilles has done or he tries to ignore them. When fighting in the war he might realize his idea of his father might not truly be acturte, he was raised on stories from his mother telling him of his outstanding father.

In terms of justifying his actions during the war because going off my own headcanon he probably wouldn’t be so interested in killing so many people, I imagine he kinda just turns off his head and acts purely on his emotions and just acts like that of a soldier. (Is this PTSD?)

He follows the orders given to him and acts without questioning and lets all his emotions out. I personally don’t assign Pyrrhus that much pride but I like to think he inherited some of his fathers famous anger. All of his anger at what he is being forced to do comes out when he is forced to fight.

That is where the brutality of his portrayal within the Aeneid comes from.