#Level II Pale Event

[palestporn]

Your moirail likes to touch you.

It's another symptom of his damage, really, all the pitiful, cracked bullshit about him wrapped up in the needy, hungry way he strokes your hair or your horns or takes daring, glancing reach-arounds to brush a hand over your back. Trolls are tough as chitin and claws, and you don't give a shit about your aberrant mutant blood, you're a troll through and through.

You shouldn't like to be touched. You don't.

But Gamzee does. And you, for some godforsaken reason, are infected with some kind of disease that makes you tolerate him.

It's cold tonight, and you can tell as soon as you wake up because Gamzee's curled around you like a grub, face buried in the back of your neck and hands rubbing absently up and down your belly. You have the slime set pretty warm, but not warm enough, apparently. When you move to get untangled, Gamzee grumbles and groans and reels you in even harder, nuzzling behind your ear.

You're a troll, you don't care about being touched. But you also can't get away. So you settle, and grumpily let him pet sleepily at your face, your chest, your neck. The slight, rough scrape of the pads on his palms and then the prickling, controlled threat of his claws.

You don't need to be touched. You don't need anybody for anything. A troll is an island. A troll doesn't give a shit. A troll doesn't get frustrated and irritable if they have to go a few weeks without their moirail touching them, so you don't. You don't.

You don't realize you're purring until he starts purring too. The tips of his claws trail across the curve of your thoracic cage, prickle and knead at you like you're some kind of wriggler comfort object, and you try to choke down the rusty rumble in your thorax and can't make it happen.

Gamzee mumbles, "Best friend, beats every miracle on the sand, sea and sky how sweet you turn for me touching you," and curls around you a little tighter, bites harmlessly at the side of your neck and the nape, where the hair trails off down your posture column. For a second all of his claws and his fangs press just hard enough to catch you still, breath hitching--then his palms smooth past the place his claws pricked at you, and he nuzzles his bare cheek against the mark of his teeth, and you're purring even louder, melting into warm, stupid shivers.

You understand what he actually said a second later, and are immediately, breathlessly indignant.

"I'm, you, fuck you," you retort, which is far from your best work, but in your defense your moirail is a soft embarrassment of a troll and he won't stop touching you, bundling you up into the curve of his freakishly long body, petting the line of one of your thighs, kneading a tense muscle there, going back to rubbing the place your purr hums at the base of your thoracic cage. "I'm humoring you, dipshit, because apparently you fucked up too many cartwheels when you were a wriggler and sloshed most of your panmatter out of your ears."

Gamzee gives a rattling, huffing chirr of amusement, melting into an actual laugh when you growl at him. "If you say so, brother," he says, soothed amiable, and nips at the back of your neck again, where he's definitely going to leave a really obvious mark for all of your chucklefuck hatefriends to hoot about.

"You're embarrassing both of us."

"Aww, motherfucker, that right?"

"You're-- It's not a-- What do you fucking think I am, some kind of--of touch-dependent mammal, huddling in its shitty brood-den with all its wriggling, hairless birth-pupas--"

Gamzee's snickering at you again. "I bet mammals don't purr so nice, best friend."

"Fuck you," you say again, with feeling, and twist half-heartedly at his grip again. He clicks his fangs, a disappointed little noise, and just holds you tighter, tight enough it aches just a little. Tight like it doesn't matter what you are or what you want, or what you don't want to want. He's not letting you go.

You don't like it. You don't, you don't, you don't. A good troll wouldn't. You don't.

He's mumbling some kind of highblood benediction into your hair, some nightmarish honking thing about being anointed in the wicked elixir and the stardust in your eyes. But his claws come to your face, a huge, cool frond wrapped all the way around to cup your cheek, and when his thumbclaw rests on your lip it's just heavy enough to shut you the fuck up, just light enough you know he's not going to hurt you. Just threatening enough to send a thrilling pale shiver through your palms and down your spine, and safe like you can only be like this.

"Little motherfucker gets so fucking hungry for it when he's lonely," Gamzee murmurs, and presses a little harder when you try to open your mouth to argue. "Nah-ah-ah, best friend, shoosh. Shhhh. You're so motherfucking warm, and look at you all soft all over, like clouds or some shit... Lemme all get my feel on. Get a good motherfucking grab-around at you going."

You bite his finger in revenge, a whole lot gentler than you could considering how tough highblood skin is. He laughs at you and then moves all in a rush, pins you into a tight little ball with your arms at your sides and your knees to your chest and dunks you in the sopor, bringing you up growling and squirming.

"What the fuck was that for?!"

"Shooshing," he says, and pats your face again with a stupid-sounding splap-splap noise. "Rowdy little motherfucker's gotta chill the fuck down. And hey, check it out."

His hands find both of your horns, and he combs the sopor through your hair with delicate clawtips and then rubs the sopor at the roots of your horns, right where thin skin gives way to the slight velvet at the bases.

The cool pressure feels completely different combined with the humming, numb-sensitive tingle of sopor, and you're immediately rendered hopelessly, humiliatingly compliant. You melt like a frozen beverage block at high noon in the desert. You make a noise you would murder any of your enemies or friends for hearing. You croon like a pupa who just discovered cotton candy. You'll fucking savage him if he stops.

"...'S real motherfucking sweet how you like it," he says again, peacefully, and this time you feel way too damn good to make yourself argue.

[scribbles-dream]

Fic for @monstrifex-art! Enjoy! (I really wasn’t sure which of your characters to take from, so I kinda mashed some visual traits together!)

A Witch in the Dark

Veil quietly handed a small vial to Elise, shaking the greenish liquid experimentally. They adjusted their glasses, fidgeting nervously. Shoulder-length black hair waved and bobbed as they looked around the room, eyes never settling on Elise, who stood a good foot taller than them. She smiled softly, patting their head and taking the vial from their outstretched hands. Veil turned to leave their wife to her scholarly pursuits, but she drew closer to them, whispering in their ear with a soft sigh. “Check the table. Your birthday gift is there!”

They kept their face straight and composed, only nodding slowly before walking out of the room. Elise blew them a kiss as Veil closed the door behind them, walking through the small, unlit house to the dining table. A window was open in the kitchen, and moths congregated around a small lantern outside. Cool air flew in, whispering the concept of winter to no-one and everyone. Veil ignored the sheaf of letters from the Ministry calling for transcriptions of their spellbooks—of which, Elise and Veil had already sent dozens to the government. The small box on the tiny, circular table was what interested them. It was a stark contrast to the worn but polished wood of the furniture, the soft couches and ornate cabinets. The material was of a sparkling black stone, and the cuboidal shape had the sharpest edges Veil had seen on anything.

A scrap of paper with Elise’s carefree, gentle script was on the top. For you, my sweetling. And only you. Inside, the velvet interior held a small choker with a pale blue gemstone. Jewelry? For me? A wave of emotion came over Veil. It’s so beautiful. Mother and Father never spoiled me like that. Images of an austere home came over them. Stiff ritualisms and noble, chaste idealism to the nation. Baroque, almost garish ceremonial uniforms and trinkets—but none of it belonged to them. Veil’s only job was to be married off to the Royal College of the Arcane’s Headmistress. They had expected that same level of abuse. Their expectations had been shattered rapidly, and they hadn’t been happier.

Veil knew very well what sorts of jewelry and trinkets their wife was enthralled into buying. They also knew that it had to be magical. A strange, almost taboo thrill came over them as they touched the soft black strip of fabric, then the precisely cut gem, its blue layers melting into a swirl caged by the geometric diamond shape. A long scroll was attached to the pantry’s wall, written over with years of black, blue, and red ink. It was a sort of calendar—if such chaotically complex scribbling could be called such—and it recorded everything Elise planned. Today, however, the event was covered with a magical shroud, blurring and causing a small headache whenever Veil lay their eyes upon it.

The object and the event had to be connected. Even that curious vial, contents unclear, had come in directly on the hour. Veil looked at the stone clock, etched with glowing sigils and floating hands of slender stone. Directly on the hour. Six o-clock.

Behind Veil, the small door leading to Elise’s laboratory started to shudder.

II

Elise drank another vial. The first one had gone down so smoothly. Why not another? In front of her was the checklist for her transformation, a three-stage-process that was supposed to only mildly modify the personality, in sharp contrast to the near total transformation of the body.

A familiar warmth grew inside her. Bone and flesh split and reformed, but she felt no pain—just a longing joy. Her darling would see her in a truly different light. She’d have the form to be their perfect mistress, for ever and ever. And what a perfect darling they were! So obedient, so gracious. Another pang of heat formed on her back. Wings split with a loud crack, unfurling with a whoosh of wind. Heat turned to a spike of pleasure. Her skin turned a strange shade of white, eyes bright blue. Sweat dripped from Elise’s face as her ears melted away, reforming into sharply pointed ones. They tingled with sensations unseen by human minds.

Elise felt her thighs shiver and twitch, growing wider and with small, imperceptible sparkling hairs. Her body as a whole grew taller and larger, bosom expanding. Her flesh continued to shed and remove hair as a whole, leaving that slender, gossamer coating only on her thighs and speckled on her back, near where the patterned, ethereal wings pumped to life. Such warmth! Such a strange, seductive siren call that was transformation! Horns grew, a deep black shade, smooth and bone-like, from her long, silver hair. A tongue emerged, pink, newly born, viscerally coated. It twitched with a dexterity Elise was unused to, and she curled it around experimentally, seeing how it automatically retracted.

She took a breath, and her nose breathed in a maddening amount of sensations. Elise struggled to keep track of herself, and looked sharply at the door. It hadn’t opened yet. She could smell Veil, their soft, warm scent. Why could she do that?

Her mind filled with new concepts, new ideas, new, more animalistic reasonings. She felt a twinge of terror at the contemplation of this new—temporary—freedom. Elise grasped for something else, and landed upon her original motivation. A gift. A love-gift, for Veil. I simply have to restrain myself.

A ping emanated from a nearby wand, adorned with a less refined version of the small diamond stone on the choker she had bought them earlier. Yes! They put it on! That wild passion threatened to overtake them again, and Elise took a small step back, feeling a wave of fear. I don’t want them to see me like this. What would they think of me?

To their credit, Veil didn’t barge in. They knocked on the door. Fear, worry, confusion—she could sense it mingling in the air around them. It was delicious. “Are you all right, Mistress?” There was no response. Veil opened the door.

III

“Don’t come in! I didn’t want you to see…” Elise halted as Veil looked on with a slight hint of confusion before averting their eyes downwards. They simply nodded slightly, and stood a respectful distance away.

“You told me to expect a change, Mistress.” Veil said evenly, not taking their eyes from the floor. Elise could sense heat rising from their face. She nodded, regaining her composure—and keeping that animalistic part of her persona in check.

Her voice was sharp and clear. “Darling. My personality is becoming more.. inhuman. Not by much, but just enough. It might be—“ Her breath caught in her throat. Veil was looking at her with those rounded spectacles, looking with the sharpest possible gaze.

Their voice was so soft, a drifting feather she could take and grasp. “Why would it matter? You’re still you. You can be free with me, Mistress.” Slender hands slightly brushed the choker. “I know what you have planned.” Veil’s voice was louder now, on the edge of breaking down into a slight snicker. It was accented by their reddening face.

That singular chuckle broke any tension, and Elise found herself snickering loudly. “It was because I was bored! Can you imagine?” She held out the glowing wand, her voice dropping down to that sultry bass that held terrible power over her servant. “You don’t have to imagine.”

Veil chuckled, and moved closer to her, falling into her grasp. Elise had to gently stoop to get out of the doorway, as she now towered over Veil completely. They spun and twisted, dancing perfectly close in a rotating circle as the small bedroom was approached.

Elise tore apart their thin clothes, feeling that same form of animalistic hunger draw over her. She pinned Veil to the bed, long tongue reaching out to lick and curl around their ears, eliciting a soft gasp. She kissed them there, tongue enveloping the inside of their mouth and leaving them in a dazed, gasping state.

She tapped the wand impatiently, causing them to moan and cry out, spasming gently. Such hunger! Such desire! A surge of overprotectiveness came over her, and her wings snapped to life, drawing a canopy of darkness over the two of them with her bright eyes providing dim light.

Elise’s voice was quiet and commanding, holding haughty elegance by the hand and slaving it to her will. “Are you a good puppy?” Veil’s soft, shuddering moans came back with a mumbled affirmative. The beating of their heart rang in her improved ears.

Elise gently took her strap, taking great care to be as soft as possible. They had done this time and time again—but never like this. She lifted Veil up, an act that was equivalent to lifting a feather, and turned them around. “Good puppy.” She patted their head gently. “Mistress has to just break you a little bit, okay?” The words came out sultry, with a high and haughty resonance. That was new.

Veil tapped on the mattress, the sonic vibrations beating in her heart like a drumbeat. “Yes, darling. I’m going to go very slowly. Whatever you want, I’ll provide.” A thumbs up, with an associated moaned affirmation.

Elise had the sudden notion to look at her slender hands, now even thinner and more.. moth-like. They were secreting a bluish oil, and the glowing residue was all over Veil. Oh. She continued, slowly moving inwards. Veil moaned and gasped, babbling meaningless things that spoke of carnal desire, thirst and love. Elise put a single hand on their lips, then a finger in their mouth, silencing them gently.

She moved in slowly, and pulled away, taking care to be as slow as possible, touching their shaking flesh and licking with that long tongue. Then, she moved in, faster and faster. Veil gasped and cried as she moved back and forth until they collapsed, shuddering and mumbling.

Another (impatient?) tap on the mattress. More? Elise complied, tapping the wand. She had programmed the choker to obey her every thought. Veil’s entire body stiffened and twisted on edge, and the queenly moth folded back her wings, smirking.

Elise tapped the wand again. Her breasts swelled greatly, and she hummed with the warmth coalescing inside of them. More. More! Her breathing grew heavy and strained, and she halted, huffing with effort. Meanwhile, Veil continued to squirm, caught in that terrible state of denial one might call enjoyable.

She wrapped her wings around them again, licking their ears and whispering. “Is my puppy trying their best? Of course you are, puppy. Let it out for your Mistress now.” She pinned their twitching hips to the bed, and went down on them quickly—slowly drawing outwards to give them the slightest bit of release before repeating. Again, and again, until her stomach felt warm, and she felt rather sleepy.

Slowly, Elise cradled her long arms around the slowly exhaling Veil, drawing their mouth up close to suckle the shimmering “milk” that came out. Their eyes rolled back in response, and they moaned again before latching on with a vicious carnal neediness she easily matched.

“Good puppy. Sleep now, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.” They crumpled into her warm embrace, and Elise found the grasping claws of sleep scratching at her mind all the same, so she let them cling to her. It gave the experience such a precious feeling, protecting someone.

End.

[dwonfilm]

Come hell or high water. | Dean Winchester x Reader.

Summary: Looming over the Winchesters and [Y/N] is the war between heaven and hell. Dean will ultimately be faced with a choice he’d never be able to make. What will happen?

This will be a multi-part story, not necessarily set in a specific season but around 4-5 would be the best fit.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Mentions: Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Castiel, Bobby Singer, Azazel (yellow eyed demon).

Warnings: angst, supernatural level violence, season 2 spoilers in flashback.

If you missed it, here’s Part I.

Flashbacks are in bold.

Part II:

Here our trio sits, all tied to separate chairs and bloodied. Each unconscious at the moment, at the mercy of whoever held them captive—though right now it seemed they were alone. Not that it was helpful, none were in the state to simply bust out of their restraints.

Two days earlier.

It was the crack of dawn and for a change, [Y/N] was the first awake. Though in saying that, it would imply she got much sleep to begin with—which she didn’t. If she had to count the hours, she’d guess maybe two out of the numerous hours at night she’d spent sleeping. Every other hour was spent snuggled into Dean who was for a change fast asleep and remained that way all night long. For [Y/N], she was restless and worried and that never ended well when it came to a hunt. There had been a handful of times where she’d just.. known something bad was gonna happen. She couldn’t tell anyone how she knew but her intuition was rarely wrong. She’d felt off about their rescue of John Winchester from those damned Sunrise apartments. Lo and behold he was possessed by the yellow eyed demon that we now know was called Azazel. All of those events spiralled and led to John ending up dead and in hell—a deal made, a trade, his life for Dean’s. There was one other instance in which it was the day that her beloved Dean made the deal that would eventually send him to hell himself.

Tears had been flowing so long their tracks had stained [Y/N]’s pale cheeks. Everything had happened so fast—weeks, hell maybe months had been spent tracking these.. other children that the yellow eyed demon had planned a future for and now.. it all felt as if time froze. They’d found this guy, Jake, but something had been incredibly off about him—more so than the other children really seemed to present at first. It wasn’t long before Sam found himself physically fighting with Jake. After a couple blows that would definitely hurt in the morning, the younger Winchester had knocked the man unconscious. Holding the pipe he’d used to nail the final blow above an unknowing Jake. Inner turmoil clearly tearing at his brain. This constant battle of how far was too far, which had been brewing within Sam Winchester for the last year or so. Ultimately, he just couldn’t kill Jake, despite the fact that he had been trying to kill Sam. Tossing the pipe to the ground before hearing both Dean and [Y/N] yelling for him. “SAM!” Dean had been searching for his little brother, frantically at that. “SAM!” [Y/N] yelled immediately after, her body right behind Dean’s. Turning in the direction of their voices Sam would sprint off, leaving the unconscious form of Jake lying on the gravel. Now they could see one another. Dean, [Y/N] and Bobby had all come into sight. “Sam.” Dean said, voice sounding exhausted. “Dean..” Sam spoke, also sounding exhausted while holding his left arm with his right. All three hunters dropped their shotguns from the aimed position but [Y/N] however, she had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that something was lingering. Seconds, mere seconds.. and Jake had appeared behind Sam. “Sam look out!” Dean warned, but it had been too late. Jake had grabbed a knife from the earlier battle and plunged it deep into the back of the younger Winchester. Dean, [Y/N] and Bobby frantically began sprinting towards Sam. “NOOOOOOOOO!” Dean yelled with one of the most pained and strained voices that [Y/N] had ever heard. Rushing towards Sam, who’d fallen to his knees, Dean threw the shotgun onto the gravel before him and gripped Sam’s white shirt tightly in his fists. Bobby and [Y/N] didn’t stop—couldn’t stop. They chased Jake as he ran away from the horrific scene he’d just caused. Sam fell limp, only being held up by his older brother’s grip on his shirt. It was clear this was bad, beyond bad, it was.. criminal. “Hey, hey, hey.. c’mere.. lemme look at ya’..” Dean cooed as he moved his brother into a hug. Placing his hand on Sam’s back he felt the wound, his little brother’s blood now coating his palm. Panic filled him as he stared at it, before trying to keep Sam responsive. Pulling back, he’d look Sam in the face but his brother was still like a ragdoll in his hands. “It’s not even that bad, it’s not even that bad.. alright?” Dean lied, looking into his little brother’s eyes. They weren’t fully open, Sam was clinging to the last string of life and Dean knew it. “Sammy… SAM!” He cried out, shaking his little brother out of sheer desperation to keep him awake. “Hey, listen to me.. we’re gonna patch you up okay?” Dean’s breaths were heavy, panic setting in but he’d keep it at bay as much as he could. “You’ll be good as new..” Another lie. Yet he said it anyway, at this point he didn’t know if it was to comfort Sam or to comfort himself. Here he was kneeling in the gravel, holding his little brother’s near lifeless body in his hands. “I’m gonna take care of you, I’m gonna take care of you.. I got you. That’s my job right? Watch out for my pain in the ass little brother.” By the end of that sentence Dean’s emotions had began to put cracks in the dam of his repressed emotions. “Sam. Sam. Sam.. SAMMY?” Dean wailed with his hand on his brother’s face. Sam’s eyes had closed now, there was no sign of life present in his brother’s body and he knew it. He realized it. Eyes widened with the realization and the fear that came with it: Sam was dead. “..no.. no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no..” Dean was pleading, with who.. with what.. he didn’t know.

Bringing his little brother back into a hug he stared off at the ground just behind where they were. Hands gripping at his little brother tightly, frantically, inwardly hoping this was some kind of sick nightmare. “Oh god..” he pleaded, just holding up his brother who was no longer living. Both knelt there in the dirt and the gravel, silence overtaking the area. Eery and calm were their surroundings but the emotions within the eldest Winchester were anything but—“SAM!” he cried out, breaking the silence that had briefly settled. Finally he broke, leaning into his brother’s hair and beginning to weep.

Sam’s body was now laid on some mattress at Bobby’s, on the ground and undisturbed. Dean, and [Y/N] kneeling beside him. “I just wanted you to be a kid.. just for a little while longer. “I always try to protect you, keep you safe. Dad didn’t even have to tell me, it was just always my responsibility you know? It’s like I had one job.. I had one job and I screwed it up..” Dean’s voice broke at the end of his words, as he leaned forward, just looking at his brother’s body. [Y/N] was close behind him, didn’t want to be far because this.. this was something that no one was prepared for, no one thought it would happen. This truly was in all facets the worst case scenario. “I blew it.. and for that I’m sorry.” Dean spoke, tears falling from his eyes and slowly rolling down his cheeks. He reached up to wipe his eyes and [Y/N] finally hooked her arm around his, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I guess that’s what I do. I let down the people I love.” She squeezed his arm, not wanting to interrupt his emotional words to his brother but wanting to let him know that wasn’t true. Head turning to face him with tears in her eyes while Dean’s vision remained on Sam. “Yeah I let Dad down.. and now I guess I’m supposed to just let you down too? ..how can I? Am I supposed to live with that? What am I supposed to do? Sammy..” emotions break and she held onto him tightly, despite the fact that he never acknowledged that she was there. “What am I supposed to do?” These words were a little more angry, but still ultimately just.. sad. Anger came out again as he yelled towards the sky. “WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!” [Y/N] ran out the front door to hear the impala’s engine revving and the bright headlights turning on. “Dean! ..DEAN WAIT.” She called after him, but he was already pulling out of the driveway and taking off down the gravel road. Tears were still rolling from her cheeks and bits of her makeup had dried, others wet and smudged from the constant flow of tears. Bobby stepped out, placing his hand on her shoulder. “C’mon girly, we’ve just gotta let him go for now.” He sighed, looking at how much of a wreck [Y/N] was and dealing with the sadness of his own. He guided her back inside and closed the door, getting a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. She was on edge, not only from Sam’s death but from the feeling that things weren’t over yet.

Daylight came and [Y/N] came downstairs to find.. Sam was alive. She couldn’t believe it. Running down the stairs she hugged him tightly, which he protested after a moment or so because it was hurting him. “I’m sorry, ..I’m sorry. I just. You’re okay?” She asked, to which the youngest Winchester nodded. It was a miracle, a miracle.. suddenly she felt that same pit in her stomach remembering what happened the night before and the feeling that kept her up most of the night. From the corner of her eye she saw Bobby and Dean walking out towards the cars—that was never a good sign. Sam had been eating some breakfast and so she smiled over at him. “I’ll be right back, Sammy. I’m gonna go talk to Dean and Bobby.” Sam nodded, continuing to eat his food. [Y/N] made it out there rather quickly but more importantly? Quietly. She wanted to see what they were talking about before they were alerted to her presence. Hiding behind a broken down car, she heard the whole speech. Every single word. Just as Bobby had his hand on Dean’s face, [Y/N] stepped out from behind the car. Dean’s eyes widened and Bobby was confused until he turned to see her standing there. “I’m gonna.. leave you two alone.” Bobby said, offering a sympathetic look to [Y/N]. She was shaking, tears again staining her cheeks and the makeup she wore yesterday became a bigger mess—both because she slept in it and from the fresh tears upon her skin. Bobby walked away and there was silence that surrounded them. Tension that you could cut with a knife. “Baby..” Dean spoke, voice low. It was in that split second that her gaze pointed like daggers at him. “..please say something.” He pleaded, holding her gaze even though he knew there was pure anger on the other end. [Y/N] was still shaking, hands clenching to form fists and she was holding them so tight her hands began to turn white. Dean made the mistake of taking a step to close the distance between he and his girlfriend—immediately being met with a punch to the face. He staggered backward but he wasn’t mad, he knew he had that coming. “How could you!” She yelled, taking a step towards him herself only to shove him in the chest. “One fucking year?! ONE YEAR DEAN?!” She yelled again, shoving him again. Dean’s voice was kept low. “Baby I tried.. I tried for ten, hell I started counting down to five. She wouldn’t budge. Baby I couldn’t let him die..” He choked out, tears running down his face again. “I didn’t want him to die either Dean, we could’ve found another way!” She cried, tears searing her face and her body aching already from the violence the sobs had brought upon her. “What other way, [Y/N]?! There was no other way, dammit!” Dean yelled, but the look he got back removed the irritation and only broke his heart further. “..what am I gonna do, Dean? What am I supposed to do, what am I supposed to say..” her voice broke from the sobbing and all Dean wanted to do was hold her in his arms. Tell her things would be okay, but he didn’t know that they would be and she clearly didn’t want him to touch her right now. Silence overtook them again, only broken up by her sobs. “You really thought your life meant nothing? You really feel like our life together means nothing?” [Y/N] sobbed the words out, turning away from her boyfriend. “Baby I didn’t say that..” he spoke lowly still, both because he didn’t want to cause more commotion and because for the first time he realized just what he’d brought down on the woman he loved. “YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO!” She cried out, her sobs felt like stabbing in her lungs. Each and every one of them felt like bullets to Dean’s heart, but he had to reaffirm what he’d told Bobby. “You can’t tell him..” he choked out. [Y/N] scoffed, looking up at him with that same daggered gaze. Laughing the most dry and uneasy laugh that he’d ever heard. “Right, I just got my still beating heart ripped from my chest and I have to smile and pretend like everything is fine? Because you asked me to?” She was angry and it was the kind of anger that was turning calm.

Perhaps the most scary kind of anger that there was—but Dean’s eyes held so much emotion that she just scoffed again. “Fine.” It was all she could say. “Baby please let me..” Dean started, reaching out for [Y/N] but she backed away before he could touch her in any way. “Don’t. Don’t you dare.” She spoke, turning around and walking off.

Dean had rolled over in his sleep, so [Y/N] figured this was the time to just.. get up. There was no point in even trying to get more sleep, it wouldn’t happen. She just had to accept it. Slowly pushing herself up from the mattress she’d run her hand over her tired face. Turning around she looked at Dean, smiling at how peaceful he looked while he slept and she couldn’t help herself—she leaned down to press a light kiss to his forehead. It wouldn’t wake him up, he was the heaviest sleeper she’d ever met when he actually got to sleep. Running her hand through her [Y/H/C] hair to push it from her face, she turned and moved towards the door to the motel room. Sam had still been asleep and so she made sure to be extra quiet, unlocking the door and taking the key with her, holding it in her hand. Once she was out of the room and had relocked it, she slipped it into her jacket pocket and sighed. Maybe this walk in the crisp morning air would give her some clarity, make her feel better. It isn’t that she was intent on going far but she’d needed some alone time to sort her thoughts. There was a coffee shop not too far from where they’d been staying and she figured she could grab everyone’s usual before they’d woken up. Despite the crisp air feeling fresh in her lungs, it wasn’t doing anything to calm her mind. As much as [Y/N] tried, she couldn’t figure out what was bothering her so much about this case—other than the fact that it had seemingly been dropped in their laps. Sure there could be some controlling of the evil in the world but to have such a gap in potential cases.. could something really control all of species of evil? Truly make them pause any and everything? She wasn’t sure even Lucifer had that kind of pull. Before she knew it, she was at the coffee shop and they had just opened a few minutes prior to her arrival. As she opened the door, the little bell rung out to alert the workers to a customer. [Y/N] smiled and ordered two caramel lattes and a black coffee—all with a shot of espresso. Eyes flicking around the interior, it was quaint and it was very much what you’d expect from a smaller town’s local coffee spot. Leaning against the half wall by the counter, she was lost in her thoughts again. It wasn’t a day she wanted to relive but this pit in her stomach was growing and it reminded her too much of that day—the day Dean made his deal. Sure, things had worked out in the long run with that but.. it wasn’t easy. “[Y/N]?” She smiled as the woman behind the counter called out her name. “That’s me.” She smiled, taking the tray with the three coffee cups settled snugly into it into her hands after paying with the card she’d brought. Thanking the worker she turned on her heel and walked back out of the door, by now the sun had fully risen in the sky. It took less time for her walk back towards the motel room, probably because she wasn’t using the walk to think anymore. Now she just wanted to get back to Sam and Dean so they could get this day started.

Using her free hand, [Y/N] grabbed the keys from her pocket and moved towards the door. However Sam had opened it, smiling at her and stepping aside to allow her to reenter the room. “Dean’s in the shower.” He said, noticing you seemed a little puzzled when you looked at the bed you’d shared with him only to find it empty. “Ahh, makes sense.” She replied, placing the coffee tray on the table and slipping her jacket off. After tossing it onto the bed, she smoothed back her [Y/H/C] hair which the wind had messed up a little. “Is everything okay, [Y/N/N]? You’re never up before me and if you are you’re damn sure not in a good enough mood to be around other people.” Sam chuckled, which made her chuckle too. “I didn’t really sleep much. Probably two hours but that’s being pretty generous.” She admitted, pulling the cups from their respective holders and setting Dean’s on the table. Grabbing Sam’s drink she extended her arm outward to offer to him, which he happily took. “Thank you.” He spoke softly, smiling at her before taking a sip. “You’re welcome.” She replied before mirroring him and doing the same from her own cup. “You that worried about this case?” He asked, eyes glancing back to her with concern in them. She nodded, sighing. “I can’t shake it, Sam. No matter how much I’ve tried since yesterday it just.. it feels like..” she was cut off by the door to the bathroom opening and Dean walking out. “Oh hey baby, good morning.” He said, smiling to [Y/N] as he walked over to her and gave her a gentle peck of a kiss. “Good morning honey.” She replied, returning the peck and offering up his coffee. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He said as he took the cup from her hand and immediately took a sip. There was a momentary silence before the eldest Winchester spoke up again. “Since when are you the one that goes for coffee in the morning by the way?” His eyes moved between Sam and [Y/N], who sighed softly. “I couldn’t sleep.” She said before sipping her coffee again. “She was just telling me that she only got two hours, being pretty generous.” Sam added, which had [Y/N] choke a bit on her coffee. Dean always worried when she got like that. “Babe.. two hours? That’s it?” Of course he knew that hunters didn’t get as much sleep at times as others did. Dean himself struggled with sleep, usually being riddled with nightmares or just worrying about things. “That’s it.” She repeated, sighing again. “I’m gonna grab next shower if that’s okay Sam.” She looked to the younger but taller Winchester and he nodded. “That’s fine, [Y/N.] Go ahead.” She began gathering her things and headed into the bathroom, shutting the door. “Dean she’s really worried.” Sam said, turning to his older brother. Dean ran his hand across his face, sighing himself. “Yeah, Sammy, I know.” Placing a hand on his older brother’s shoulder, he lowered his voice a little bit. “No, Dean, I don’t think either of us realize how bad it is for her.” This made Dean raise his eyebrow, but his eyes began searching his little brother’s eyes for answers. “What did she say?” He asked, looking at Sam. “She didn’t fully get it out, because you came into the room.. but she said it feels like something else and with the look on her face Dean.. it’s bad.” Both brothers wore looks of concern as they settled into a silence. All that could be heard was the distant sound of the shower running behind the closed bathroom door.

About ten minutes passed, the water turned off and [Y/N] emerged from the bathroom already dressed for when they’d inevitably leave. Sam had finished his coffee just now tossing the cup into the bin. Without a word he gathered his things and headed into the bathroom to use the last bits of what he hoped was hot water. Once the bathroom door closed, Dean would approach [Y/N] and take her hands into his and squeeze them gently. “Baby.. look at me.” He spoke softly, she didn’t want to meet his gaze at first mention. “Baby.” He repeated, gently easing his index finger underneath her chin and pushing her face upward. Finally she met his gaze and his stomach and heart sunk. All that he could see in her eyes was sadness and worry. It broke him a little. “Talk to me.” He said softly, running his thumbs over the top of her hands. “I’m just.. something really doesn’t feel right, D.” She spoke, her eyes glassing over a little bit as she attempted to hold back the tears. “This case?” He asked, letting go of one of her hands to bring his now free one to her face. Thumb easily caressing her cheekbone which makes it harder for her to hold back the tears. “Everything about this, Dean. It feels like.. like..” she trailed off and tried to look away from him but gently he kept her gaze on him. “Like what, sweetheart?” He asked, letting go of her other hand to bring his up on the other side of her face. His hands were cupping her face now, so she gripped his forearms firmly. Taking a deep breath she attempted to steady her breathing. Dean leaned forward to press a kiss onto her forehead to help calm her down. “All of this has that pit in my stomach like the day you made the deal to save Sam.” She was quiet, she didn’t wanna say it too loud—she didn’t wanna say it at all. Finally he understood why she was so worked up, why she couldn’t sleep and why she’d been stressing so much. “C’mere.” That’s all he said, pulling her as close to his body as he could. She wrapped her arms around his midsection and he wrapped his own around her shoulders. [Y/N] buried her face into his chest and quietly sobbed. “It’s not gonna be like that day. I promise.” He spoke lowly, pressing a kiss to her temple, followed by another one. She lifted her head to look him in the eyes with the tears all along her face. “Don’t promise me that, you know you can’t keep it.” She whispered. He sighed knowing she was right. “I know.” It was all he said, but she knew it was his way of saying in this moment that he’d do anything to protect her. They knew Sam would be out of the shower any moment and so [Y/N] began to rub her eyes, wiping away the tears and hoping her eyes weren’t too red and puffy. Dean pressed another couple of kisses to her forehead, soothing her as best he could.

“Did you try praying to Cas yet?” She asked, her voice sounding more stable than it had earlier. “Yeah, he’s not answering me.” It was clear that Dean was frustrated but surely the angel was just.. busy. “It’s okay, he’s probably doing something.” It’s like she could read his mind sometimes, which he mostly loved about [Y/N]. “Why don’t you sit and finish your coffee? I’ll pack the car up so we can just head out. That okay?” He asked, looking at her with a little smile but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. She nodded, slowly letting go of Dean and moving back to the table and grabbing her coffee. [Y/N] sighed before taking a sip, slowly picking at the cup with her eyes down. It didn’t take long for Sam to reenter the room after his shower. [Y/N] didn’t really look up, just sat there trying to keep her composure. He’d made his way from the bathroom directly to his bed, packing up all of his stuff into the couple bags he owned. “Dean taking the stuff to the impala?” Sam asked, which she barely realized. “Huh? Oh yeah, he’s running everything out now.” [Y/N] replied without really looking up. Now the younger Winchester was furrowing his brow, turning to approach where she was seated. Fingers with a semi-grown out manicure still picking at the material of the cup. Sam gently placed his hand upon her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. [Y/N] placed her hand atop of the man’s, the man who’d been like her younger brother too. Not that she always intended to, but often times she was like Dean in the fact that she tried to shelter Sam from how bad she was feeling. He’d given her shoulder another gentle squeeze. “It’s gonna be okay. Whatever it is, we’re gonna make it through this, [Y/N].” She couldn’t help but smile up at Sam and hope he didn’t notice her eyes and how red they likely were. “Thank you, Sammy.” She replied with that same smile that stopped at her cheeks. Just then the door to the room opened and Dean walked back in, offering a lopsided half-smile at his girlfriend and his brother. “You guys ready to go?” Dean asked rubbing his hands onto his jean-covered thighs—both Sam and [Y/N] nodding. First to leave the room was the younger Winchester, wanting to get settled for the long drive between states. This left [Y/N] and Dean alone in the room for a moment as she slowly got up from the chair. One medium length drink had the rest of her coffee gone and she threw it in the bin before stopping to stand by her man. “I love you, [Y/N/N].” He said taking her into his arms once again. “I love you too, D.” She replied, burying her face in his chest for a few seconds before both made their way out of the room. Dean reached behind him to close the door again. “I have the key, I’ll drop it off.” [Y/N] spoke before giving Dean’s side a little squeeze. She broke away from the hug and made the short walk towards the office, so he took that time to get into the impala. After offering one last wave she made her way back towards the car, looking around for a couple of seconds before stepping towards it. Soon enough she was tucked away in the passenger seat of Baby, Sam in the back with his face in a book of lore. Turning her head would have Dean come into view, gripping the steering wheel and turning the key—putting the impala into motion. Reversing out of the parking lot and taking off down the road as Baby’s engine roared freely.

[littlenightmares2]

What do you think is the meaning behind Mono turning into the Thin man at the end? Do you think that’s an example of his character repeating the cycle of abuse which was imposed onto him?

thank you for asking! i love dissecting the story of little nightmares and the characters so much, so i foresee myself rambling a lot in this answer. here we go.

the long and short of it is, i think that the pale city was always awaiting mono's arrival.

we can see in the scene where mono and six are first travelling to the pale city that upon their approach, the buildings immediately begin to bend and warp towards them. the city already seemed to recognise mono's latent powers in this moment as it responded to his presence- that, or his fate had already been decided by the nowhere. the city demanded a broadcaster.

my (current, and constantly subject to change!) interpretation of events is that six accompanying mono impeded what the nowhere had already predestined him to.

he's described throughout promotional materials as "an uncommonly single-minded child." this phrase has always fascinated me. we get so few solid details about the children's mindsets and motivations in this world so it's difficult not to fixate on that simple string of information. yet despite him having this singular, unshakeable motivation to move towards the pale city and find the source of the transmission, the signal tower, he still allowed himself to be waylaid. he stopped to free six.

the pale city exists because the need for escapism exists. therefore, the broadcaster that would oversee the signal tower and send out the transmission across the city would have to be a figure that was sunken deeply into escapism, too. somebody who needed a distraction. somebody who had been through such immense pain, such betrayal, that they would do anything to put it to the back of their mind. somebody who needed the false comfort that escapism and denial of reality provides.

when asked if mono ever thought about lashing out against the tower, using his powers to level the city, or generally defying what had happened to him, the little nightmares twitter responded: "of course not. like all sensible children, he eventually came around to our way of thinking." they also stipulated that mono's idea of escapism would be, "revenge, maybe? a second chance?"

i believe that the looping events of little nightmares ii are caused by mono's own desire for either revenge or a second chance. he conceded to the tower's will because escapism was offered to him when he so desperately wanted it.

he is the thin man, cast into the depths of the flesh walls, but in his mind, he's mono again, back at the start of everything in the forest. the loop that persistently plays out is a recreation of events that allows mono to engage in the escapism of being at six's side again after everything that happened forever. he can't change what happened. but he can enjoy second chance after second chance, being her friend again before everything went wrong- the thing he so desperately craves.

the thin man takes his revenge in chasing her and stealing her away. keeping her prisoner in the signal tower, in pain just as he is and will continue to be forevermore. even if he goes on to free her after the fact. i don't think mono exactly 'remembers' how everything happens when he lapses into these bouts of escapism with the loops playing out over and over. it wouldn't be true escapism if he was aware of how painfully everything was going to end. everything feels new for mono, but as the thin man, he remembers and guides others into the false lull of security that turning away from reality offers.

six was a perfect instrument to use against mono. even though she was initially detrimental to the tower's goal of drawing mono in, she later became an essential part of it.. she was a catalyst of trauma and the tower maliciously aligned events when it warped her into a monster, setting everything up to transpire in such a way that she would abandon him. when mono shattered six's music box, he denied her the escapism it provided. the comfort and denial of her painful reality was snatched away. this goes to show exactly how intoxicating the tower and it's transmission are, and how manipulated events between the two children were. the end goal was always for mono to think he was saving six, while she wholeheartedly believed he was hurting her and ruining her happiness. that he was unsafe to be around.

[eggmarr]

a day of mourning

pairings: pantalone, arlecchino, childe x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: mentions of alcohol/consumption of alcohol, working with kids, aggressive behavior from a man, cass writes childe again when they know they can’t write childe

a/n: i was up very late finishing writing this on call w/ a friend and i am very much sleep deprived. we read tarot cards for our self ships and i got distracted. ik i still have two more event requests…but harbinger video 👁👁

“Detestable.”

A hand comes to rest on Dottore’s shoulder, indigo gems embedded in silver that glint in the ballroom light. The Regrator smirks at his fellow harbinger’s discomfort, inclining his head to the floor below of glitz and glamor.

“A great many things in this world are. But tonight,” He flourishes, winking at a nearby group of lingering women. “We have a captive audience, and a script to follow.”

The others are already mingling along; The Captain and The Puppet, The Knave and the Maiden, all those fools with masks of their own in this mock of a wake.

(If only Rosalyne could see us now.)

(I - as a visitor from afar.)

Your outfit seems ill-fitting in comparison to the fine silks and bespoke suits scattered around the ballroom. Silently sipping on a glass of champagne (that surely costs more than your yearly salary), you find the nightly snowfall outside the windows more entertaining than the poor soul trying to chat you up.

Admittedly, you feel a bit bad for tuning him out for so long - but when you start a conversation about money with probably one of the least-rich people in the room, it’s kind of anticipated. His tangent about work has gone on for so long, you’re starting to miss your own work. And bed. Archons above, it’s cold here.

“That uh, that sounds interesting!” You finally interrupt, stopping him quick before he gets into his grievances with lukewarm water on his many travels. “Unfortunately, it seems that someone else is calling for me, so….have a good day!”

Your steps are frantic as he tries to follow your movements in his stupor, nearly catching your wrist when-

“Oh? What’s this, hm?”

Black, elegantly crafted gloves enter your vision, a gentle yet freezing hand on each of your shoulders. The voice behind you is close, almost deceptively charming. The man in front of you almost blends in with the snow outside at how pale he turns.

“M- My lord, I-“

The voice tuts disapprovingly.

“The Fair Lady would disapprove of such behavior, especially coming from one of her subordinates, no?” You brace yourself when a hand drifts across to your drink, lifting the bubbling amber out of your fingers with little resistance. “Remember your lady with the dignity and grace she carried in life.”

The Regrator steps into his spotlight, ready for a show.

“Fire and ice still burn, you know.”

It comes to your realization that the man in front of you wears the traditional mourning black, with a differing charm at his suit to signify his allegiance to Lady Signora.

It also comes to your realization, as the man slinks away and another takes his place, that your “savior” is at an entirely different level than the opulence that decorates the halls.

He takes your hand gently, the long-forgotten cup of champagne already gone in favor of your knuckles to his lips. The rings on his fingers shine, pale silver and aubergine against his midnight black and blue suit.

“It seems we have yet to be acquainted.”

Your words are tentative, step by step as you peer into the newfound abyss that grins so strangely at you.

“Well….I can fix that.”

May the Tsaritsa save your soul.

(II - as an ever-loyal servant.)

The children at your feet beg for more stories, more tales of faraway lands and endless oceans where the sun is everlasting. You laugh at their enthusiasm in their tiny suits and little skirts.

“Settle down, now.” Your eyes travel from each eager face, unable to suppress your own grin. “First, I want you all to go get something to eat, alright? It’s quite late, and I know you’re all a bit bored.”

Their heads nod in unison. So cute!

“Pair up, and be polite!” You call after their scuttling shoes and bubbly giggles.

A new pair of shoes enters your vision, ruby-jeweled and black and white heels that automatically make you drop to a bow.

“My lady, I-“

“It is no fault of yours for dealing with rambunctious children. Rise.”

Before you can blink, you’re eye-to-eye with Lady Arlecchino, red-crossed pupils studying your face curiously. You squirm under her scrutiny, but stand your ground in front of the harbinger you swore allegiance to so many years ago.

“I’m not familiar with you.”

The statement is blasé, bitingly plain and a shot through your pride as a servant of Arlecchino. “Not many people choose to seek those who busy themselves with children and their fantasies.”

She laughs at your retort. “Most of them will go their entire lives having never met The Fair Lady.”

“Yet,” You begin, breaking her stare to gaze after their faces. “They will remember what she achieved and what she sacrificed in the name of the nation. A lady of poise and intelligence to emulate as they devote their hope to our land.”

Your hands find purchase in her grasp, making you almost stumble into her arms with her ferocity.

A new brightness in her eyes appears, a frightening beauty in the everlasting blizzard.

“Thank you,” She whispers. “For remembering her right.”

(III - as a crack in the lens.)

You sit back in your chair, a fresh glass of sparkling…something in your hand and a keen ear out to the busy businessmen that whisper furtively between each other at the next table over.

All this buzz over a dead woman, hm? A new pecking order moves up…yet another mistress…failed experiments- utterly useless information like the last party.

Your eyes scan the crowds and schmoozers, following the glamorous patrons with a bored expression until you meet that oh-so stubborn sapphire blue smirk that makes you choke on your drink.

The Eleventh Harbinger is a demon of his own design, but archons above does he look remarkably tempting in his dark suit.

He leans back in his own chair, giving your disguise of the evening a careful appraisal. His nod of approval is greeted by your gaze of disdain as you turn to keep him in your peripheral. Of course he would be here…but why did he have to be so dammed observant?

You can practically hear his teasing tone, feel his curiosity creeping up your arms like spiders - even with the distance.

This waltz of yours is much more dangerous under the knife.

As he raises his glass in toast, you raise yours; praying that he’ll find you more interesting than your possible intentions.

[pulseofthestars]

The people have spoken, information will be below the cut.

With the Kamille Frontal AU the premise is that following the events of Char’s Counterattack the Neo Zeon remnants that would form the basis for Sleeves would, instead of using a random Cyber-Newtype to turn into Full Frontal, looked to using Kamille Bidan. Their reasoning was that one, Kamille had a connection with Char from their time in the A.E.U.G and thus could be more likely to hold a fragment of his soul (I swear this part of Frontal’s origin was always bordering on jumping the space shark but I digress), two Kamille’s skills for mobile suit piloting had likely been known from his time piloting the Gundam Mk. II and Zeta Gundam during the Gryps Conflict and would serve as a framework for ensuring that the planned “Second Coming of the Red Comet” would be as fearsome a pilot as Char Aznable and Amuro Ray. And lastly Kamille’s powerful potential as a Newtype was a tempting element to Sleeves as, while Char himself was not a particularly powerful Newtype with these abilities mainly serving as support for his piloting skill, they felt that having a potent Newtype would make their attempt to create his second coming far more successful. Thus they would scout out Kamille and his activities until the time came and they captured him. From here they would experiment on him, gradually wearing down his will until they could mold him into what would become Full Frontal.

Kamille himself still exists deep within Frontal’s mind but is so deeply bound that he has very little influence. Indeed Frontal has at times even used Kamille as a means to play mind games with those who knew the boy.

In events where Char and/or Amuro survived the events of CCA Kamille if restored to his own body still harbors a level of resentment toward them, especially Char, blaming him and his obsessions for the torture he suffered and being trapped in his own mind while Frontal was in control.

As a proper Newtype in this AU Frontal can potentially impact the minds of others around him in a manner not too dissimilar to Scirocco’s final attack on Kamille’s on mind before perishing in the final battle of the Zeta Gundam series and at times will use this as a means of torture and interrogation for information.

As one might expect in this AU Frontal’s hair is actually not naturally blond and instead Sleeves researchers developed a means to essentially dye his hair that shade in a way that doesn’t need constant reapplication. In scenarios where Kamille regains control of his body he works to remove the blond color but his hair never truly returns to its natural blue, being more of a pale blue.

Along with the Sinanju and Neo Zeong an idea I had is that Frontal in this AU had another mobile suit designed in secret, the Zeta Thanatos, a variant of the original Zeta Gundam though with a color scheme akin to the Sinanju and similar to said mobile suit trades a diverse weapon pool for ridiculous speed and agility, along with a variant of the Zeta’s Biocomputer to tap into his Newtype abilities further.

[wistfulvulpine]

never doing that again as a F2P 💛 or ever again 💛 but it was all worth it for her 💛

I pulled [redacted] times only to not get Koga (but I sure got 5 off banners 💀) so I only had 60% bonus with maxed Mayoi and the 3 stars........funnily enough, the off banner FS1 Madara I pulled (twice!??!?) helped make my Flash team stronger!

So I grinded Blooming World for two days (15 mil points yes I like grinding no it was not fun), then managed to full combo Pale Red Vow on Expert and went with that since Mayoi was also Flash. I was joking about grinding the last 7 mil in two days but uhhhhh oops

Anyway after pulling I started with like 78k dia, ended with just over 7k bc I got impatient and wanted to max Naru NOW!!!!! If I timed out my grinding better, I likely would have more at the end......but I also had to pull 30 times to get one (1) WWYS Naru card???? So if I didn't do that I would have 17k dia left.

Only tips I got for maxing a card is to pull 100 times max, and if you don't get the 5 star, try to max out the 4 star bc that really helps as you can see!! (Mama and Yuzuru are +1, Eichi is +2, Naru is max 💛) I get 3.5 mil points on average with this setup and it gets me 42k points per 10 BP.

I do 10 BP per play bc like. you're going to 22 mil, it's going to take a lot of irl time to grind, and unless you're a lower level, the EXP difference won't matter (I leveled up like 3 times during this). If you want to maximize your BP and have more time/patience, absolutely do 1 BP. (if you have VIP II why are you looking for tips. just hit auto-loop.)

Everyone says to save ~100k dia for all 5 copies and I agree. You will use 30k for pulls (100 or until 5 star + maxed 4 star if less than 100), and 70k for grinding, more or less depending on your team strength.

Be prepared for your phone to be held hostage by the idol hell game for hours. Mute the music to stay sane and so you don't end up hating the songs. Remember to do Starry Lives for the extra event points and dia. Remember to take breaks and charge your device!

Good luck and remember you come first before a png! 💛

[spiltscribbles]

Oooo it’s my birthday today and I neeeeeed my sweet boys, is it too greedy if I ask for you to write something absolutely adores like you always do. I can wait there’s no rush. It would really make my day a whole lot better

~Notes: HI HI BABY!!! I’m so so fucking sorry this is like two days late 😭😭😭 I am a piece of shit and I had an idea and then I scrapped it and then I came up with this crack shit! But I included singling like you wanted!! And ILU endlessly!!! I hope your birthday was at least filled with sunlight and friends and all the adoration you deserve🎉🎉🎂🥳🎈🎈🎈🎊🎊🥳🎁. And I hope this isn’t a shitty gift!😭😭

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Send Me A Prompt<3  |  A Reblog is like a hug!!!!

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The 4 Times People Suspected About Remus and Sirius, and The One Time They Called It By Name

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~I~

Peter notices it first.

He doesn’t know quite what it is, or what it means— Peter doesn’t understand what it entails when he’s watching the way Sirius gently thumbs at a high patch on Remus’s cheek while he’s sleeping on the hospital bed after the first full moon of fourth year, a fraught look in his stormy eyes. Or how Remus’s gaze always search Sirius out first after he’s made a wry comment in the expense of the Slytherins, going alight with the other boy’s laughter. Peter doesn’t comprehend the way it sometimes seems like he’s caught in some sort of static— a negative space that makes him feel out of bounds— when he’s alone with only the pair of them. When they’re all huddled around the common area or their dormitory while James is probably skulking in search of Lily Evans or cajoling the other chasers to have another lap around the court. With Remus lounging on his fourposter, or the sofa, reading one of the infinite books he’s got tucked away in his trunk, and Sirius is quietly  sat by his feet, toying with a non-magical contraption he’s found in Muggle London after sneaking out from his ancestral home while his folks were having a row. And Peter is ordinarily just fiddling with a scroll he has to finish for one of the tougher courses from a bit away, intermittently  glancing at them side long, just waiting for an excuse to leave the suffocating ambiance that feels like it’s been fitted for just the pair of them and not another soul.

But the most peculiar part about all of this is that Peter is accustomed to feeling like the spare, the cast off who’s clinging to the glimmering forms that are James and Sirius, and their ravenous appetite for any and all attention that’s given over because that’s the sort of boys they are— affluent and prominent and radiating with a sort of spark that’s all there own— the sort of boys that others find doubtless that they are something miraculous. But when Peter’s around just the pair of them, in the corner of the galaxy that the marauders have carved for them to rule like kings— It never feels quite so stilted, so weighty. Sirius and James have a gift of making everyone in the room feel like they’re in on the joke, that they could be showered with that same granger just as long as they play in the tableau. Remus and Sirius together feels the contrary of that, like there’s something pregnant lying between them, waiting to pounce. Like there’s an understanding that no one else gets to glimpse at, and no one else should try. An understanding  that’s personal and private and crackling with an energy that is far beyond anything between mere friends, beyond anything Peter could fathom with all his fifteen years.

Idly, over supper after an entire two hours being stuck between that strange tension simmering beneath the surface of Remus and Sirius, Peter wonders for the umpteenth time on whether he should ask James about this development in their small brotherhood, should ask him if he’s detected the difference there. And if he has, Peter will listen to James’s plan to ensure this doesn’t ruin anything. How whatever is brewing under the surface won’t absolutely ruin them.

But then, from the corner of his eye, Peter sees Sirius— none to gently— piling Remus’s plate with an abundance of the potatoes that Moony likes best, dipping down to whisper something in his ear— something surely lecherous— before tousling his curls in that brash, bombastic way of his that he does with Peter and James too, even if he ends it by gingerly cupping the nape of Remus’s neck with a surreptitious squeeze that ends just as quickly as it began, falling back into conversation with James and Marlene about the Wasps’s chances against the Harpies this Friday night as if it was just an innate action, even if it’s one Peter’s only ever witnessed him doing to Remus.

And even though there’s another full in two days, and even though Remus looks like a walking inferi— pale faced and exhausted posture and circles the color of midnight smudged beneath his eyes— Peter watches the ends of his lips quirk up into the best approximation of a smile Peter’s ever seen on him so close to the wolf breaking through the surface of his body that’s all skin and bones, and he isn’t sure if it’s a trick of the light or not, but Remus actually looks like he might be glowing over the strange attention that Sirius’s only ever paid to him.

So no… No, Peter doesn’t think he’ll ask James quite yet, reckons that if anything can help his moon plagued friend, that it must be something good, something that shouldn’t be tempered with.

They can figure out how the strange string pulling Remus and Sirius together will alter their brotherhood later on, there’s still time. There’ still a possibility that it won’t devastate everything.

~II~

Lily’s suspected for a while.

The thing is that she’s known about Remus since the end of third year, when he rebuffed the advances of an eager Heleen  Abed, and Lily found him on the ledge of the largest window in the vacant common room— the same one that they regularly commandeer with Mary McDonald to discuss the finer points of Muggle politics and current events, separate from the melting pot of their Gryffindor class that’s composed of either pure bloods or those with their closest Muggle relative being a long dead grandparent. And it was definitely a dangerous, knife’s edge she was playing at, but Lily had sat besides the boy who she’s cultivated a real and true friendship with— one beyond pleasant platitudes and fodder about their course work— and she told him about her cousin Joey with green spiked hair and a mischievous smile adorned with a sparkling stud and how she and Petunia had caught him holding hands with one of his friends from sixth-form in the garden of her Aunt’s cottage, and how even the sneer on her older sisters lips hadn’t deterred Lily from thinking anything but mild indifference about the situation. Only wanting her cousin to always live in that easy effervescence she’s always known when it came to him.

And nothing else was exchanged between them, but Remus had grinned in that barely perceptible way of his, and Lily had nudged his shoulder with her own and then fished out her final handful of chocolate frogs for them to share while they revise their notes for the transfiguration exam coming up. 

Two summers have past since then—they’re in the midst  of their final term of fifth year now— and she thinks that they’ve become even closer, that the frequent late nights in the library for their impending OWLs and their countless prefect rounds has helped forge a real and true bond— especially that whole snag earlier in the year when they had realized they were both snogging Leon Bennett on alternating nights behind greenhouse three. But all of that withstanding, Lily knows that there are still secrets Remus keeps tight to his chest, ones that Lily’s analytical mind— the mind of a potions expert and future healer— has suspected to do with the thin, silvery scars running down his strong hands that are all tapered fingers and slender wrists, and another across his right bicep that she saw when he had changed his robes for a jumper in front of her, and the one cutting down from the bottom of his ear and nearly across the entire length of his neck, ending at the corner of his sharp collarbone. But Lily suspects he’ll tell her about that soon enough, what she isn’t so confident about is him admitting that particularly dazed look he gets when around Black, of all people. The way he stammers his words occasionally and the way he worries on his bottom lip while averting his glance when Sirius is chatting up a very pleased looking girl, and the way he flushes when Lily is ribbing about him in particular. And Lily knows that the foursome of Gryffindor boys had a falling out of sorts before winter hols, that there’s a hairline fracture between them and Remus now— one that she’s sure no one else can pick up on after the way they had seemingly come back together in late January, right before her birthday funnily enough. But Lily’s always been the analytical  sort— the sort to absorb the barebones of a situation so she could conjure a hypothesis that she could prove after careful study.

So Lily knows that it’s something deeper, and she can see  how Remus is reticent around them in ways she’s actually worried won’t be shaken off anytime soon— which is all levels of bazaar considering she’s been telling Remus for years that he needs to shrug off his rowdy mates like a snake shedding an old coat. But before, when she’d barb as much he’d only stick out his tongue and tell her what happens to busybodies, and how she doesn’t really know them at all. But now days, he just looks particularly hurt, and more than a bit put out, and Lily catches him flickering over to wherever Sirius was holding court, longing in a way she couldn’t possibly articulate out loud.

Honestly Lily thinks it’s really quite gracious of her to have dropped the subject completely, rather, she takes up the mantel of his friend that can distract him from all those sorts of woes, biting her tongue over his lingering feelings for Sirius that are more than likely far beyond a passing fancy. And she thinks that maybe that’s a good call, maybe it’s good for Remus to beat down those sorts of emotions  that he’s harboring for the wanker. She knows Remus, and she knows he wouldn’t hold a grudge— even such a quiet one— for no reason at all. Besides, she doesn’t really think it’s her place to tell him how when he’s glancing away, Sirius is holding vigil to him with that same sort of fervor. That Sirius is the one who collects the notes for all his classes on those conspicuous absences of his when Remus is feeling poorly in the infirmary. That Sirius occasionally looks so very gutted when Remus is wilting away from them, when he seeks Lily’s company instead.

She has a heavy suspicion that Remus might already know all of those things— that maybe they’ve already discussed it at length, that maybe the falling out in December has caused a full stop of anything that could’ve potentially blossomed between them. And she just wishes she knew the entire story so she could decide on whether she should be jinxing Black’s face to a putrid orange color, or pushing Remus to actually give him a chance.

Lily just wishes she could read Black as easily as she can Remus, maybe that would help in this experiment she’s testing, because for now she’s just confused as all hell over what exactly Black feels towards him. Well that is until it’s a fortnight before Remus’s birthday, and she’s being bodily dragged into a closet on her way to charms.

“Oi— What the bloody—“

“Language, Evans,” the annoyingly familiar baritone of Sirius Black tsks, lighting up the cupboard with his wand and smirking in that jagged way she’s heard countless girls tittering over, and the one that makes her want to pop him one right against his ridiculously smug face.

“Black,” she says, caustic as all get out with her fists clenched against her sides and her brows making a really resilient effort to meet in the middle. “You’ve got thirty seconds before I hex your bollocks off.”

“Pff, and Jamie thinks you’re some sort of saint.”

“Twenty-eight. Twenty-seven. Twenty-six.”

Sirius pulls a face at her, but must understand the credence in the words, because it’s not another moment more before he pulls out a bedraggled looking slip of paper from his robe’s pocket, and thrusts it at her face. So with an indignant huff, Lily opens it up and begins scanning the words— becoming all the more confused when she sees measurements and things like coco powder and melted butter, instead of whatever the hell else she was preparing herself to read.

“I’m being pranked, aren’t I? You’re trying to distract me so you and Potter can do something horrid to the Slytherin’s common room.”

“We’ve actually already done that today,” Sirius jeers, raising up his hands in concession with a cluck of the tongue at her scowling face. “’s from Moony’s mum, all right. I asked her to send me the recipe of this chocolate cake she use to make him for his birthdays before Hogwarts— I just thought… It might be nice is all, and you can sod right off if you look at me like that, Evans, with the soft eyes and all that rot. Are you going to help me or not?”

Lily resolutely ignores the pang to her heart, because God, this really is such a sweet gesture. “And what? you thought I could help you because I’m a bird?” She asks in the most scolding inflection she could muster in the face of this incredibly soppy gift he wants to give Remus.

“None of that, blimey, Evans.” Sirius snarls, obviously diffident, and combined with the faint flush to his cheeks, Lily suddenly realizes why he’s considered one of the best looking blokes in the entirety of their school. “There’s a whole load of Muggle mumbo jumbo, so it was between asking you, or McDonald, and I adore Mary and all, but  she has got such a mouth on her.”

“You should know,” Lily counters with a leer. “She couldn’t stop going on about your date back in October.”

Sirius’s brows hike, and he actually smiles at her— one that’s vacant from all his bravado from his upbringing in his pretentious, pure blood home, and one that isn’t trying to show off. And Lily can’t help but favoringly liken him to an excited pug. “Oh you’re wicked, Evans!” He shrills delightedly. “Oh this is great, you’re just as depraved as Remus, are all prefects like this?”

Lily snorts, shaking her head at him, indulgent. “Never mind that, Black. Most of this stuff can be found in the kitchens below, I’m sure the house elves won’t mind us borrowing anything.”

“And the ingredients that won’t be down their?” He asks worriedly.

“Well, good on you planning this so far ahead of time, we’ll just have to experiment.”

Sirius groans in retort, muttering things about Muggle potions and James thinking he’s getting off with his future wife and other ridiculous things that Lily doesn’t bother to stay and listen to. Though, when Remus’s birthday does roll around, and she sees his countenance go a thousand shades brighter as he bites into the pudding, and Sirius’s grin stretch just that much more across his face in response— their eyes meeting across the room and past the crowds— Well Lily suspects Sirius never really minded any of the things he was whinging on about, not at all, not as long as the result was a beaming Remus.

~III~

Regulus hears about it in the halls.

He’s not much for gossip or that sort of dribble, doesn’t have much patience for anyone outside his house if he’s being at all frank— and even then, it’s not as if he doesn’t frequently find himself escaping to his fourposter for a moment’s quiet. It seems that everyone in this bloody castle are just dimwitted, daft idiots, and Regulus’s never been the sort to offer allowances for that kind of behavior. He’s been raised in the home of a family as close to royalty as Wizards permit, a prince among men. And he was told that he should have patience for the dull folks beneath him, just as long as they have the correct ideals, but sometimes he can’t help but wish they would all just let him be, sometimes feels like he’s being carted around Hogwarts as the perfect pure blood,  like he was nine years old again and being shown off in the parlor of  his home when guests came to call, watching from the sidelines while his mother rave about how splendid of an heir Sirius is turning out to be. How his tutor calls him a genius for any age, and how darling he looks in Slytherin green, and how he’s already mastered three romance languages to help in his spell work. 

And Regulus can’t help but scoff at those contemplations now, thinking of the past summer when his dramatic and brash brother had made a whole production of leaving behind the values that gave him everything he has. How he escaped to that Potter git’s home the way he’s been doing for nearly every holiday since his second year, how he offered Regulus to come along as if he’s a trader just like him. What a risible excuse for an heir.

But Regulus won’t commit such follies, he’ll make his parents proud— even if his father is nearly never paying much mind and his mother goes from raving to sickly in a blink of an eye. It doesn’t matter, because he’ll carry on the Black legacy, something that his oh so perfect brother never could’ve done. Regulus is only a fifth year, will be turning sixteen in only two months after Sirius’s coming of age, and sure, this might mean he’s still young enough that the Death Eaters don’t find him adequate to fight on the line of fire, but he’ll do it eventually, feels the weight of the letter from Bellatrix praising him for as much resting heavy in his pocket. And if Regulus finds them all a bit too vicious or a bit too excitable and completely lacking a deft hand to make the changes they’re searching for, he shrugs it off. He knows what he must do, and as he stares at his brother from across the valley cusping the lake, he’s only that much more steadfast in the conviction of the fact.

Sirius is sitting and laughing with a group of his Gryffindor mates, the mudbloods, and blood traders that had warped him from the brother he knew to the stranger he is now. And there’s a dark skinned Ravenclaw bird— Meadowes if he remembers correctly from his prefect meetings— and she’s telling some sort of long winded tail with hand gestures and loud cackling coming from the group as she goes on. And Sirius is tossing around a quaffle with Potter— the glint of a handsome, silver watch on his wrist catching in the dying sunlight. And Regulus wonders who had gifted him such a personal passage to adulthood, but is soon distracted by spotting the way Sirius nearly gets smacked in the face with the ball because he was too busy gawking over  at Lupin in such a stripped down, cautious way that it makes Regulus squirm.

He doesn’t know much about the elder Prefect, only that his name had come up nearly as much as Potters during that first year when Sirius would send him correspondence on a frequent basis because he knew how lonely Regulus would get while stuck in Grimmauld all by himself. And then when he began attending Hogwarts, Regulus never could get a good reading on him. He knew Potter because of how his family is infamous for their liberal views and nouveau riche attitudes, and Pettigrews family owns a hokey herb shop in Diagon. All he’s found out about the Lupins is that his father is the son of half-bloods and his mother is a Muggle, and that this mudblood is a reserved, carefully aloof bugger, and that somehow he’s seemingly captured all of Sirius’s attentions that he’s not giving Potter or the clinger ons who follow him around like mindless fools. Beyond that, Lupin and Regulus have only traded a hand full of words whenever their roles of prefects would force them to intermingle, and it’s always been punctuated by Lupin giving Regulus a witheringly cold look anytime they were in close proximity, which is admittedly impressive considering that half the time the sickly bastard looks like he’s about ready to keel over.

So no, Regulus doesn’t know much about him, but he’s heard the rumors. He knows that it’s basically an open secret between the Gryffindor class and selected friends. The fact that  his brother is probably shagging the mudblood, convincing Regulus that Sirius really has never given a toss about the decorum and standards befalling them as the only two Black males of their generation. And he hates his brother  so scathingly right then, hates his little munblood lover probably even more. 

And when he watches Lupin straying his gaze from the novel he was reading while that red haired Muggle born was resting her head in his lap, and Regulus saw the way both of their expressions went a peculiar sort of tender— well that’s the last straw, so he stands up in a huff— so unlike himself— and he cuts the story Mulciber was crowing on about, and he tells them he needs to complete a scroll for Slughorn.

And while he prowls away from the sight of his brother continuing to ruin everything, Regulus plunges a hand into his pocket, and crunches Bellatrix’s letter in his grasp, promises himself to write her back soon, and ignores the ache in his chest that’s only been growing larger since Sirius had left permanently.

~IV~

James’s always known.

Perhaps that’s an over reach, but it’s true enough. He’s known for years, on some level, that the thing between Sirius and Remus is something completely foreign to him. Something completely separate from how Sirius licks his face when James is over sleeping and he wants to be a general nuisance. Separate from how he and Remus have begun discussing anything and everything in the wee hours of the morning, with a spot of tea between them and a blanket on their legs, because Remus can’t sleep from the moon and James has never been able to sleep through the whole night without feeling guilty over it. He thinks it stemmed from when he was younger, when his parents were feeling sickly, and before they were gifted a house elf by a family friend who recognized that the elderly Potters needed just a bit more assistance. 

James never knew whether it was obvious to him because he’s always considered Sirius as his bastard brother since Christmas of first year, and that he’s always trying to make sure that Remus is all right after finding out just how impressively the bloke can keep secrets once Sirius figured out his furry little problem. So he’s not sure what others know, or even what Remus and Sirius  know of what’s happening between them, honestly, there have been so many almosts that James has picked up on over the years. And he still shutters thinking about the near total break that happened with the prank, still isn’t quite sure what had past between them to get Sirius and Remus  speaking with each other once more, but he does know that Remus staying with James, Sirius, and  Peter the past summer after Sirius escaping the twisted place he was suppose to call a home, is what helped indefinitely. And now, a year separate from the prank, things finally feel normal between them.

Well— Erm, not normal per se. Those idiots are still blustering and bumbling and bashfully avoiding one another when anything close to romantic comes up in a discussion or when their hands touch over the Great Hall table or whenever James makes a pointed remark when he catches one of them staring a bit too slack jawed at the other in the midst of something totally bloody innocuous in the eyes of a normal person— EG: Sirius gathering his hair— that’s nearly to the bottom of his neck now a days— into a small knot on the back of his head, or Remus sucking idly on a sugar quill while he’s revising. And sure, James has to deal with the kicks at his ankles, or a spare jinx if one of them is especially pissy, but Lily’s come to join him in the ribbing, so it kind of makes everything all right. Especially when she levels her beautiful, forrest green eyes with his own brown ones, and she actually looks sort of endeared.

Yeah— that’s a fucking amazing feeling all right, and it’s probably the memory of that happening only a few hours ago that has got James all jittery now, far past midnight. So with a tired sigh, he slides open the drapes of his fourposter, is ready to go downstairs for a kitchen raid if Remus isn’t awake— Though once he sets his glasses on, and blinks a few times over to get acclimated with the dark, he’s only a bit stunned to find the shapes of Remus and Sirius crowded on the former’s bed— and they’re really not much more than suggestions beneath the shadows, but it’s enough for James to see Sirius’s head bent low, resting it against the crook of  Moony’s neck and shoulder, while the shorter boy has got his arms wrapped around Sirius’s torso. And it’s nothing obscene, not really— it’s not like they’re nude or anything— but Sirius is shirtless, and Remus does have this blissed out expression painted over his features, that James would bet good money is the same one Sirius has got on if most of his face wasn’t covered by his hair.

And in another breath, Remus’s honey colored eyes flap open, widening exponentially when he catches sight of James, and wiggling around as if he wants to move away from Sirius completely, which is of course stunted when Sirius makes a low noise under his breath, and presses closer so that his mouth is quite literally right against Remus’s neck, and his arms tug him closer.

And James is definitely convinced that he’s the best mate any bloke could ask for when instead of chuckling at the obvious show of territorialism, he just shakes his head indulgently at them, mouthing an “About time plonker,” to Remus, who replies in kind with a hefty, two fingered salute.

This time James has to bite down to prevent his chuckle from spilling out.

“And here I was, about to offer you a snack from our dear house elves.” He whispers, hopefully quiet enough so that only Remus could hear.

“Oh, just bugger off,” Remus retorts, smiling with such mirth that James can’t even feign to be affronted over it, only follows the playful command and tries figuring out just how to give the ‘If you hurt him I’ll hurt you’ talk to the pair of them without it coming across insincerely. 

~+I~

Millie was bored until she saw them.

The only reason why Millie got this boring job in this beyond posh restaurant is because her folks reckon that she needs to learn some form of responsibility before university, and she hates it. The pay is absolute shite, and most of her coworkers are all levels of boring, and the patrons are not nearly entertaining enough to try and make up some secret back story of tumultuous affairs or secret agents from the MI6, or a royal from some country on the continent meeting their star-crossed lover.

It’s all just painfully ordinary, and she’s cursing her parents while she chomps on her gum, reading some stupid note by an ugly old fart who left her his number on the receipt. 

Scoffing while she bins it, Millie glances over to the newly occupied table in her section, heart immediately leaping once she gets a good look at the pair of blokes sitting down. 

The sandy haired one is definitely cute in that reserved way her best friend Claire would definitely be mad over— the guy who could read you poetry in French or Italian and then gently kisses the back of your hand. And that’s all and well, but Millie’s every attention is laser focussed on his mate, the one that looks like he can be bloody James Bond with those smoldering eyes and that ink black hair, and God, those cheekbones! Definitely one of those beautiful, Public school boys who’s born and bread by the patrician. And while she takes their orders, she tosses him her most flattering of grins and slips in her giggle that an ex boyfriend compared to silver bells, and is sure to flip her long, chestnut hair enough times so he’d notice, even if she’s pretty sure he’s either pissed or probably more than a bit stoned. (Truly, where the bloody hell would he come up with pumpkin juice? How horrid must that taste). 

Millie may or may not spend an unreasonable amount of time spying at them from where the cooks drop off the completed plates to be sent away. He’s just so bloody good looking, and she can’t believe this awful job has finally brought her such an amazing distraction, and the arse doesn’t even pay her much mind, leaving the ordering and the conversing to his fair haired friend.

Maybe he’s sensitive, she thinks to herself. Maybe he’s just a shy soul. And yes, that must be it! The poor, beautiful sod. She’s sure to make her intentions clear next time she thinks it’s appropriate to top off their waters, because she’s so very  gracious like that.

“Enjoying yourselves?” Millie asks in her most light hearted of cadences, filling up the shorter one’s glass but smiling fully and exclusively to the boy who looks like he should be starring in some sort of Brook’s Brothers advert.

“Ta,” the sandy haired boy says, sounding a bit amused at her dilemma, but it’s kind enough so Millie doesn’t feel brassed off over it. “Do you mind pointing me to the loo?”

“Oh of course!” She crows, suddenly ecstatic as she directs him, finally getting a chance to be alone with the model. Though when she turns her attention to him once the other one leaves to take a leak, she’s kind of confused how he’s staring after him with a glance she vividly remembers on the face of her ex whenever she’d peer back around to ensure he was watching her go— Though, if Millie’s being honest, the model somehow looks simultaneously eager to watch the back of him, but also already disheartened not to have him around in ways she doubts anyone she’s ever gone out with has ever exhibited. “He’s a nice chap,” she states, instead of marinating on the strangeness of this development.

The practical model starts, seems to have forgotten about her presence all together, but then he glances over towards her with those impossibly flattering, pale gray eyes, and he nods disinterestedly. And yeah, yikes. That is a total hit to Millie’s ego.

“Ahem,” she clears her throat, begins twisting her free hand into the material of her apron. “’S nice you guys came for dinner, you don’t see much friends considering how bloody expensive it is here, hah.”

Millie feels herself going absolutely scarlet at the impassive way he drags his gaze up and down her form before taking a swig of his Bellini. “He’s not my friend.”

“Oh,” Millie practically squeaks out, suddenly wonders if maybe he’s a tutor from his class or something? Maybe the model is just taking the cute one out to dinner as a thanks for helping him pass his A-levels? Maybe this is considered cheap in the circles that the model keeps.

“’S our one year anniversary actually,” he tells her, still in that methodical, blasé way of his. And oh. Oh wow! Suddenly everything is snapping into clarity.

The way the two boys had brushed the back of their hands before being seated, how model had trusted the other boy to order for him, how model never looked away from the cute one’s mouth or collarbones or hands as they spoke. How whenever she came around to ask if they needed anything else, it felt like she was intruding on more than just a couple of mates catching up.

Oh Jesus, she feels like such an idiot, and Millie tells the model just as much.

“I’m sorry, I’m an idiot! I didn’t even put it together.”

Remarkably, the model’s rigid posture goes a bit loose at her apology, and the corner of his thin lips quirk up into a grin. “’S fine, he didn’t want to make a fuss out of it, but yeah— Just feels good telling someone.”

Millie nods eagerly, she can’t understand exactly what he means, obviously not,  but she can definitely try to, and if it feels good for him to tell a random bird about something so important, then she’s more than happy to help. “Well the point stands, yeah? He seems like a good sort, you’re lucky to have found each other.”

The model’s grin goes elastic at that, and he looks actually approachable for the first time tonight. “I’m the luckiest bloke in the world that I get to be with him.”

Millie flushes at the intensity embedded into his statement, but thankfully doesn’t have to answer when she hears the sandy haired boy walking closer now, smiling so brightly that there’s a dimple popping up on the apple of his cheek that Millie’s only just noticed— The mirth is a good color on him, she reckons. Makes him look as gorgeous as those boys on the telly dramas her Mum is always gushing about, even his eyes turn more golden than light brown. “You pestering our waitress Padfoot?”

“You know I keep my devilish tongue for you and you alone Moonbeam,” the model—Padfoot cannot be his actual name for heaven’s sake— retorts.

“Lucky me,” the sandy haired boy says wryly as he takes a seat, and while Millie walks away— intending to get them a pudding that’s on the house to celebrate the milestone of their relationship— she peers back around only once and it’s enough to see the tips of their fingers kissing across the table, and their smiles looking like a secret language not meant for anyone else to read. 

.-

My Full Wolfstar FIC Masterlist💜

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (epilogue II)

word count; 3193

summary; deep into your relationship, and still happy, there’s a bigger step on the horizon.

notes; please note that this is based two years after the events of the main series!

warnings; reference to arson, reference to injury.

“Tommy, where the hell are we? Why does it smell like burned wood?” You grinned, your vision blocked by the tie Thomas had used to cover your eyes, holding onto one of his hands tightly as he guided you up the pathway beneath your feet. “Seriously, I thought we were having a date night. You said we were going out!”

“We are out, technically.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, your skin tingling a little where his lips had pressed, before he was slowing you down, bringing you to a stop, and his hand left yours. The sunlight that had been pocking through the tie was blocked, shadowed as Thomas came to stand in front of you. “It’s just not what you think. But we are on a date, and we can order some food out here later.”

“Where exactly is ‘out here’? Because we were driving for, like, an hour.”

“Okay, well, it wouldn't normally be that long. I got a little lost because I couldn’t use the SatNav.” He huffed, fingers smoothing over the knot on the back of your head and trying not to pull on your hair as he undid it carefully. You were buzzing with excitement, wondering where exactly it was that he’d brought you, and you blinked a little at the light burned ta your eyes, finally able to see again. Thomas had blindfolded you upon leaving the station after your shift, not wanting you to have any idea about where you were going, and it took you a moment to readjust. “You ready?”

“Totally ready.” You beamed, and Thomas nodded, dipping down to press a quick peck to your lips, before he was stepping out of your way. Staring up at the building for a second, your blinked once, and then twice, before your lips were pursing, head tipping to the side. You stared for another moment, before turning to look at Thomas. “We’re at a burned-up house from a call last month?”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah! Cool!” You faked his enthusiasm for a second, trying to understand where it was coming from. “Huh. Why?”

He rolled his eyes fondly, tucking the tie into his back pocket before taking your hand and tugging you up the steps. The doorframe was burned, the door pulled closed but unable to lock as it hung unevenly on its hinges, and Thomas pushed it open again carefully. “I thought you might want to look around? Can I show you around?”

You didn’t understand much, but you smiled, sensing his excitement in it, and nodding your head. “Yeah, Tommy, of course.”

You stepped in a little more, eyes flicking over it all. There was peeling wallpaper that was scarred with ash and black stains, burned away right down to the foundations in some places, and the ceilings were covered in soot. The floors creaked under your feet as you stepped in glass smashed and the shards stained, and it was unusual to see the remnants of a building like this without all the smoke and fire that usually came with it when you were on the job.

The first room looked like it was supposed to have wide doors, an entrance that would take double doors but they’d fallen down, ripped laces along the frame where they’d torn of, but the debris had been moved from inside of the house. The living room was beautiful, you couldn't deny it. There was a large fireplace against one wall, real log-burning with a chimney up to the roof and if you hadn't actually worked on the case, you’d have immediately put the large accessory down to the cause of the fire.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t. The reason this beautiful large house had burned down was stupid kids messing around with fireworks in the back garden of a house for sale, which was now completely destroyed. What would once have sold for over a million was barely worth a couple hundred thousand anymore, despite the beautiful neighbourhood it was in.

“This room is huge.” You mumbled, stepping a little further inside, and Thomas nodded. There was a file on one side, a place that was covered in old and destroyed bookshelves, a large windowsill beside it, and you could already picture it extended to make a little reading nook.

“Do you wanna’ see how it looked before? There were pictures on the real estate website, it was beautiful.”

You nodded, tuning to your boyfriend as he pulled out his phone, pulling up the pictures and swiping through them, Standing by his side, you looped an arm around his waist, leaning in slightly, and his arm went over your shoulders. Finally finding the right one, he positioned you both to be facing in the right direction, a set of large bay windows on one side that went out towards a decking that had been burned away.

In the photograph, the window had curtain rails and soft white curtains made of a thin kind of mesh, letting in the natural light as they hung over large glass doors. The walls were done up with a pale grey and white wallpaper, leaving it simply for the furnishings, but everything seemed to be in pale shades that made it all feel modern and elegant. Turning you both, he showed off the fireplace, decorated with old cobblestones and shale around the base that decorated it beautifully, before fading away into what had once been smooth oak wood flooring.

There were pictures on the wall at one end, and it reminded you of the wall Thomas had in his apartment, the one you had moved into almost a year ago, but his one was bigger, and looked like it could hold at least three times the quantity. There were couches laid out, surrounding a large television, and it was a huge area, a coffee table that looked like it was almost the size of a dining table.

Moving through to the kitchen together, you were even more taken aback by it. To one side was what was once a dining room, connected fully and open space, enough to seat a whole extended family, and you could only imagine the thanksgivings or the Christmas’, and you would be able to fit the whole squad into that room without trouble, without sitting in different rooms or connecting tables, all squeezing around the kitchen counters at Newt’s place or sitting in the tables, couches and floor like at Minho’s last Christmas.

There was space in the kitchen for an island in the centre, stools in front of it, and built-in ovens and fridges like at the station. There was also a set of large doors here, the glass broken, and you assumed this was where the fireworks had burst right though because there was a hole in the centre of the ceiling up into one of the rooms above.

“I saw this kitchen and I was immediately thinking about the size of it. Y’know, like, imagine the parties or the holidays, with a dining room like that and a kitchen like this I remember thinking it when we were putting out the flames, too.” He scratched at the back of his neck, looking around for a second, and you guided his face back to your own, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “Weird thing to think about when putting out a fire, I know.”

“I was thinking the same thing. Big kitchen and dining room, you’d actually be able to fit a family our size into it without trouble. It’s kinda’ wild to think about.”

He chuckled, nodding his head, and his hands lifted to cup your cheeks pulling you back in closer to him. His nose bumped against your own, dragging together for a second in sweet Eskimo kisses, before his lips were meeting your own. Pressing in softly, he was still smiling into the connection for the first few seconds, before his head was twisting to the side, one hand dropping from your face to your waist, smoothing around your lower back and pulling you in even closer.

Pressing up into him, your arms circled his neck, pulling him down to your level as his tongue soothed over your lower lip, and you parted them for him. He sighed, a breathy and delicate sound, before his fingertips were digging into your flesh, holding you tightly as he pulled you impossibly closer. Scratching lightly at the hairs along the base of his neck, he rumbled happily, chest vibrating under your own with the noise and your fingers tangled a little more, and you pulled back. He whined, chasing after you for a few seconds, before letting you go, his forehead resting against yours instead.

“Your hairs getting kinda’ long.”

“You don’t like it?” He teased, and you shook your head, slightly kiss-swollen lips puckering for a second to press to his own again, a series of short pecks, before you pulled back.

“I like it, but you always complain about how sweaty your head gets in your helmets when your hair is too long.” He sighed, knowing you were right, and shrugging it off with a ‘hmph’.

“You know, talking of parties, there’s this amazing outdoor area. It's huge, there’s the decking from the living room and a patio outside here, there’s a big tree at the end of the garden and this amazing barbecuing area.” You nodded along, eyes narrowing on him again as he got excited over it, walking you a little closer to the broken doors so that you could see out.

He was right, there was a tall oak tree at the end of a huge garden, a fire pit made in the middle surrounded by beer cans and wrapped from where you assumed the teens who’d started the fire had been messing around, but with a little love and care, it would be all fixed up. The patio would seat big outdoor furniture, and you could picture a smaller firepit in the centre for later summer nights, as well as the proud barbecuing area Thomas had mentioned, built into the stonework with different levels and multiple grills.

“What do you think?”

“What do I think of this house?” You echoed, and he nodded slowly, almost hesitantly, before you took a deep breath, staring back out to the garden.

“I think it’s beautiful. Or, it was. Has a lot of potential to be incredible again.” You didn’t know much, you’d barely seen half of the lower floor and none of the upper ones. “I haven’t seen much of it, but what I have seen is nice.”

“Well, y’know, there’s big bedrooms. The master bedroom is amazing, it has an en-suite with a shower and a bathtub, a big closet and huge windows for natural light with a little miniature balcony outside of it. There’s a study down here which would make a really nice snug or cosy room, it didn’t get touched as much by the fire so you can get a better image of it when I show you. There are so many bedrooms, seriously, like, six bedrooms. There’s an attic, and a basement, and-

“Tommy, why are we here?” There was something hidden under his voice, his words trailing off after you’d interrupted him and his hand sank back to his sides from where he’d been making gestures with them, his shoulders slumping a little.

“It’s a cool house, I thought you might want to see inside of it! Especially since you and Newt didn’t get to do much when we were here, there wasn’t anybody injured, so you were just left waiting around, and I wanted to share it with you.”

“There’s more to it than that, I know I’m not great at picking up on signals, Tommy, but I’d like to think I got pretty good at reading you over this last year or so.” You studied him for a second, and he shrunk a little more under your gaze, before huffing out a laugh.

“Almost two years, now.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing to reassure him, before sliding up to sit on his neck, letting your thumb brush over his pulse point and calm him. His hand landed on your wrist, following as he trailed it up your arm to find your hand, pulling it away from his body and linking your fingers together instead. He kissed along your knuckles, remaining in silence, but you felt like you were drowning in the nervous tension he was letting off.

“Talk to me, Tommy.”

“Okay.” He let out a shaky breath, nodding his head before looking back up to you. “Well, you and Newt were talking after the case, right? He said Derek lived in a neighbourhood like this when he was younger, and that you had always wanted to live in an area like this. Well, when I was in here, I kept thinking about how beautiful this place was, and how big it was. The whole squad could fit in, and it would be so comfortable. This is the sort of place you spend the rest of your life in, right? I was looking through it all and doing a sweep and because I knew it was empty my mind was wandering. I just thought about how I would never normally be able to afford a place like this, and how the value would go down so much because of the fire, and..”

“Oh, wow, are you thinking of buying this house?” You couldn't hide the shock in your voice no matter how much you tried, and Thomas chuckled as he watched you look around, with a little more interest now as you took it all in with more attention to detail.

“Well, yeah. Kind of. It’s only a thirty-minute drive from the house so it’s pretty much the same commute as right now, and-” He huffed, nostrils flaring a little as he thought, and you raised your brows at the way he suddenly went quiet, the gears in his head visibly turning as his brows furrowed a little. “Look, I’m struggling here, I’m nervous, okay?”

“Thomas, you’re getting all panicky.” You whispered, pulling him in a little, and leaning up. He was eagerly awaiting the kiss you gave him, body relaxing a little as you balanced yourself with one hand, thumb playing with his own where the other was still held by one of his, and he didn’t let you go when he pulled back. Instead, his head dipped lower, pulling you in and wrapping an arm around your waist, needy kisses that left you breathless as he held onto you, tension melting away and becoming a little hazy instead as he clung to you.

“I’m just,” His teeth nibbled a little on your lower lip, panting slightly as he pulled back for breath, and you were stealing more kisses through gasping laughs as you tried to get enough air, smiling and teasing as you did. “I’m just trying to ask you,” He was cut off again, your mouth meeting his and he laughed against your lips, his hand leaving your own to hold onto you more, fingers tickling over your sides lightly as you laughed into the kiss. “Cut it out, I’m calm now, but I have to say this while I have the courage.”

His cheeks were flushed when you pulled back, hair a little messy and lips a darker shade than usual, and he licked over them as he stared down at you, undoubtedly staring at an equal messy composure. “You have my undivided attention. Go right ahead.”

“I remember that a while ago, we were lying in bed and talking about things we wanted that we never thought would happen, and you said you’d always wanted to rebuild a house. Renovate it, was the word you used. You wanted to make it your own, but you never thought you’d afford it. And, on a paramedic and a firefighters wage, we’d never be able to afford a place like this, normally.”

“We?” You echoed, a soft smile on his lips as your heart thudded in his chest. You knew what it meant, it was a heavy commitment to buy a house with someone, living together was one thing but buying a house was basically a step away from a proposal, it was an investment in a long term future together, and you felt like you could barely breathe. Your chest felt tight, shock and adrenaline racing through you and you stiffened slightly, fear lacing itself into Thomas’ features once again. “You, uh, you want us to buy a house together?”

“Maybe..” He sighed, a little timid again now. “It was just a thought, because it’s such a beautiful house, and as soon as I saw it I was thinking about things you’d said, and it just seemed perfect for us, but if you don’t like it then that’s fine, just don’t shut down on me, okay?” He rested a hand over your cheek, thumb brushing softly, and his lips pressed a soft kiss toy our forehead. “Just tell me you hate the idea, but don’t go silent, alright?”

You nodded, letting him kiss your temple too, before pulling back to look at you. “I, um..”

“Hate it?”

“Love it, actually.” You choked on the words slightly, feeling a little breathless as they were wheezed out, and Thomas paused. He looked sceptical, shaking his head slightly, and you tried your best to smile. “No, I do. I really do. I’m just terrified, okay? I’m not good at long-term commitment, I’m scared, but I want it. With you.”

“Really? Because I know it’s a big step, and I know what it means, I’m not blind. It’s buying a house together, so if you wanna’ freak out or you don’t want it, that's okay, just tell me, alright? Because I’m in this with you for the long haul and you’ve got to know that by now, it’s not a secret, so I can wait until you’re ready.” The words sped from him, a little too fast, and you shook your head, leaning up to press your forehead to his.

“I’m really, totally sure. I just hadn't thought about it, okay? I was caught off guard, I’m not much one to think about the future, it doesn’t come naturally to me. But when I do think about my future, you’re always there.”

“Always?” He teased, twisting his head to brush his lips with your own.

“Every single time.” You gave him a quick kiss, a happy hum to accompany it and he relaxed once he let you sink back. “So, why don’t we order some pizza to be delivered here, and you can show me around some more. You said there were lots of bedrooms, which is good, because you know Newt will want his own.”

“So, we’re buying a house?” He looked a little unsteady, eyes glossing over, and he sniffed lightly. You matched him, nodding your head and beaming as the emotions overwhelmed you.

“Yeah, baby, we are.”

[amuelia]

How do you think Roose will meet his demise? Or will he survive? What's your best Roose end game predictions?

Thank you for the question! This will be a long post under the readmore, going into my thoughts on the show ending and exploring what the books may have set up in regards to themes and characterization, as well as a bit of general analysis of Roose' story arc in a Dance with Dragons (and some speculation about Ramsay as well).

If you click on the readmore i will have divided the post into sections with bolded Headers, if you want to only read my specific endgame ideas you can skip ahead to the "His Endgame?" section.

In The Show

The show had him get killed by Ramsay in s6, which informs a lot of the fandom speculation about this storyline.

I am not a fan of the show's scenario as it was both similar to tywin and tyrion as well as a mirror of robb's death; it would also be offscreen in the books since neither of the characters are PoVs and Ramsay would need to do the act in secret. This would ultimately undercut Roose' role and impact, being a death scene that is not very unique and also isn't shown to the reader directly. Since no PoV is even in Winterfell currently, we would just hear of it from afar and not witness the consequences.

The show also has a different dynamic in the Bolton storyline, emphasizing Ramsay as the "main character" of this arc, and elevating him to the main villain for s5-6 to fill Joffrey's shoes as an evil character played by a very charismatic actor. Ramsay's show writing is informed by the needs of a TV setting that wants shocking moments and capitalizes on "fan favourite" actors; his rising importance in the show thus is not necessarily an indicator of his book importance. The show was also missing many central characters like the northern lords and the Frey men in Winterfell.

The show had a tendency to kill off characters early when they wanted to cull storylines or had no plans to adapt more of the character's story (like Stannis, Barristan, possibly the Tyrells...); In Mance Rayder we have the most obvious example, where they killed him off for real in a scene that in the book was a misdirection. We also have characters like Jorah where it appears the showrunners had their own choice of how they want his storyline to end, even if Grrm has his own ending in mind.

"For a long time we wanted Ser Jorah to be there at The Wall in the end," writer Dave Hill says. "The three coming out of the tunnel would be Jon and Jorah and Tormund. But [...] Jorah should have the noble death he craves defending the woman he loves." - Dave Hill for Entertainment Weekly

So a death in the show does not need to be an indicator that the books will feature an equivalent scene, even if it gives a hint as to what may happen. By s5 the show has become its own beast, and the butterfly effects from radical changes they made as well as the different characterizations results in the show having to cater to its own needs in many cases when it gets to resolving a plotline.

"We reconceived the role to make it worthy of the actor's talents." - Benioff and Weiss for the s5 DVD commentary, on Indira Varma's casting as Ellaria

In The Books

(Since this post was getting out of hand in length a lot of these arguments are a little shortened/not as in-depth as i'd like! Feel free to inquire more via ask if something is unclear or you disagree)

In the books i find it hard to make a concrete guess as to how it will end. Occam's razor would be to assume the show sort of got it right and that it will vaguely end the same, which could very well happen and i will not discount the possibility; Ramsay is cruel, desires the Dreadfort rule, and is a suspected kinslayer and has no qualms to commit immoral violence.

"Ramsay killed [his brother]. A sickness of the bowels, Maester Uthor says, but I say poison." - Reek III, aDwD

Reek saw the way Ramsay's mouth twisted, the spittle glistening between his lips. He feared he might leap the table with his dagger in his hand [to attack his father]. - Reek III, aDwD

Arguments against this or for a different endgame come down to interpretations of the themes in the story arc and opinions on dramatic structure/grrm's writing, and are thus very subjective.

The way the story currently is going, Ramsay killing Roose treats Roose almost as a plot device; his death brings no change or development to Ramsay's character as we already know his motivations and cruelty align with such an act, and we can assume that he would feel no remorse about it either. The results of such a scene would be firmly on a story level, as it brings political changes and moves the plot along into a specific direction. Roose himself cannot have any relevant character development about it as he does not have a PoV and we would not be able to witness his reaction from the outside.

“The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself.” - William Faulkner, often quoted by Grrm

Further, killing his father is very difficult to pull off in secret (Roose is frequently described as very cautious, and employs many guardsmen). And even if Ramsay pulls it off (people often interpret Ramsay as Roose' blind spot, assuming he might be caught by surprise, not expecting Ramsay would bite the hand that feeds him), Roose is the one that holds his entire alliance together; The Freys would be alienated by Ramsay who would antagonize Walda and her son as his rivals, The Ryswell bloc appears to dislike Ramsay (especially Barbrey), and the other northmen are implied to not even like Roose himself. Killing Roose would quickly combust the entire northern faction, and hinder Ramsay's further plans (another reason why I am not convinced of a book version of the "Battle of Bastards"). Though this might of course, if we look at it from the other side, be grrm's plan to quickly dissolve this plot and move the northern story forwards.

"Ramsay will kill [Walda's children], of course. [...] [She] will grieve to see them die, though." - Reek III, aDwD

"How many of our grudging friends do you imagine we'd retain if the truth were known? Only Lady Barbrey, whom you would turn into a pair of boots … inferior boots." - Reek III, aDwD

"Fear is what keeps a man alive in this world of treachery and deceit. Even here in Barrowton the crows are circling, waiting to feast upon our flesh. The Cerwyns and the Tallharts are not to be relied on, my fat friend Lord Wyman plots betrayal, and Whoresbane … the Umbers may seem simple, but they are not without a certain low cunning. Ramsay should fear them all, as I do." - Reek III, aDwD

Roose' death at Ramsay's hand also removes him thematically from the Red Wedding, as we can assume such a death might have happened regardless of his participation in the event (seeing as Ramsay is getting provoked by Roose constantly in normal dialogue, and has a general violent disposition). Roose already took Ramsay in before aGoT started, and married Walda very early in the war, which is already most of the buildup that the show's scenario had. It also has little to do with the The North Remembers plot except set dressing, since the northmen are presumably neither collaborating with/egging on Ramsay nor would they appreciate the development.

Themes: Ned Stark and the rule over the North

Roose is treated as a foil to Eddard; They are often contrasted in morals and ruling styles, while also having many superficial similarities that further connect them (they are seen as cold by people, grey eyed, patriarchs of rivalling northern houses, etc...).

Pale as morning mist, his eyes concealed more than they told. Jaime misliked those eyes. They reminded him of the day at King's Landing when Ned Stark had found him seated on the Iron Throne. - Jaime IV, aSoS

They both have a "bastard son" that they handle very differently; Roose treating Ramsay in the way that is seen as common in their society. Ramsay and Jon as a comparison are meant to show that Catelyn had a reason to see a bastard as a threat (since Domeric was antagonized by his bastard brother), but also shows that her suggested plan for Jon would not have stopped any danger either (as Ramsay being raised away from the castle didn't help).

And if his seed quickened, she expected he would see to the child's needs. He did more than that. The Starks were not like other men. Ned brought his bastard home with him, and called him "son" for all the north to see. - Catelyn II, aGoT

"Each year I sent the woman some piglets and chickens and a bag of stars, on the understanding that she was never to tell the boy who had fathered him. A peaceful land, a quiet people, that has always been my rule." - Reek III, aDwD

It appears to me that Roose' story functions in some ways as an inversion to Ned. He makes an attempt to grab a power he was not destined to (becoming warden of the north), where Ned did not want the responsiblity thrust upon him ("It was all meant for Brandon. [...] I never asked for this cup to pass to me." - Cat II, aGoT). Where Ned rules successfully and his northmen honor his legacy ("What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl." - The Turncloak, aDwD), the Boltons are largely hated and there are several plots conspiring against them ("Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die." - The King's Prize, aDwD).

It seems possible to me that in terms of their family and legacy, Roose might also live through an inverted version of Ned's story; where Ned died first, leaving his family behind, Roose already lived to see the death of his wives and trueborn heir, and might thus also live to see Ramsay's death. Ned leaves behind well raised children and a North who still respects his name, and even though he dies it will presumably all be "in good hands" in the end (in broad strokes, obviously this is all much more morally complex). Roose however built up a bad and toxic legacy, and also built his way of life around evading consequences; it makes sense to me that he would be forced by the story to finally endure all the consequences of his actions and witness the fall of his house firsthand. After all we already have Tywin who fulfils the purpose of dying before his children while his legacy falls to ruins, and a Feast for Crows explores this aspect thoroughly.

Roose' arc in A Dance With Dragons

The story repeatedly builds up the situation unravelling around Roose, and him slowly losing a grip on it and becoming more stressed and anxious.

Reek wondered if Roose Bolton ever cried. If so, do the tears feel cold upon his cheeks? - Reek II, aDwD

Roose Bolton said nothing at all. But Theon Greyjoy saw a look in his pale eyes that he had never seen before—an uneasiness, even a hint of fear. [...] That night the new stable collapsed beneath the weight of the snow that had buried it. - a Ghost in Winterfell, aDwD

Lady Walda gave a shriek and clutched at her lord husband's arm. "Stop," Roose Bolton shouted. "Stop this madness." His own men rushed forward as the Manderlys vaulted over the benches to get at the Freys. - Theon I, aDwD

It also directly presents him as a parallel to Theon's rule in aCoK, who similarly experienced a very unpopular rule and his subjects slowly turning against him. Presumably, the point of this comparison will not just be "Ramsay comes in at the end and unexpectedly whacks them on the head". Both Theon and Roose invited Ramsay into their lives, giving him more power than he deserves, and causing Ramsay to make choices that increasingly alienate others from them (the death of the miller's boys for example has repercussions for both Theon and Roose). Grrm is likely steering this towards a difference in how they will deal with this situation.

It all seemed so familiar, like a mummer show that he had seen before. Only the mummers had changed. Roose Bolton was playing the part that Theon had played the last time round, and the dead men were playing the parts of Aggar, Gynir Rednose, and Gelmarr the Grim. Reek was there too, he remembered, but he was a different Reek, a Reek with bloody hands and lies dripping from his lips, sweet as honey. - a Ghost in Winterfell, aDwD

"Stark's little wolflings are dead," said Ramsay, sloshing some more ale into his cup, "and they'll stay dead. Let them show their ugly faces, and my girls will rip those wolves of theirs to pieces. The sooner they turn up, the sooner I kill them again." - The elder Bolton sighed. "Again? Surely you misspeak. You never slew Lord Eddard's sons, those two sweet boys we loved so well. That was Theon Turncloak's work, remember? How many of our grudging friends do you imagine we'd retain if the truth were known?" - Reek III, aDwD

Roose' arc is deeply connected to the relations he shares to the other northern lords, which has been heavily impacted by the Red Wedding. It stands to reason that they are going to be an important part of his downfall, and we see many hints of them plotting to betray him.

The north remembers, Lord Davos. The north remembers, and the mummer's farce is almost done. My son is home." - Davos IV, aDwD

Themes: Stannis and kinslaying

The books set up Roose and Stannis as foils as well; Both lack charisma and have trouble winnning the people's support, Stannis and Roose both parallel and contrast Ned, Stannis appears as a "lesser Robert" where Roose is a "lesser Ned", Stannis represents the fire where Roose represents the ice, both struggle over dominion in a land that doesnt particularly want either of them, etc... What i find interesting is how they are contrasted over kinslaying:

"Only Renly could vex me so with a piece of fruit. He brought his doom on himself with his treason, but I did love him, Davos. I know that now. I swear, I will go to my grave thinking of my brother's peach." - Davos II, aCoK

"I should've had the mother whipped and thrown her child down a well … but the babe did have my eyes." [...] "Now [Domeric's] bones lie beneath the Dreadfort with the bones of his brothers, who died still in the cradle, and I am left with Ramsay. Tell me, my lord … if the kinslayer is accursed, what is a father to do when one son slays another?" - Reek III, aCoK

Stannis is set up as someone who is very thorough and strict in following his own code and his "duty", even if he does not like what it forces him to do.

Stannis ground his teeth again. "I never asked for this crown. Gold is cold and heavy on the head, but so long as I am the king, I have a duty . . . If I must sacrifice one child to the flames to save a million from the dark . . . Sacrifice . . . is never easy, Davos. Or it is no true sacrifice. Tell him, my lady." - Davos IV, aSoS

The armorer considered that a moment. "Robert was the true steel. Stannis is pure iron, black and hard and strong, yes, but brittle, the way iron gets. He'll break before he bends." - Jon I, aCoK

Roose however is frequently characterized as someone who tries to get as much as he can while avoiding negative consequences, and who does not have a consistent moral code and instead bends rules to his benefit to be the most comfortable to him.

It is often theorized that Stannis will end up burning his daughter Shireen; the Ramsay issue might then serve to contrast the two men. If Grrm intends it to be compared by the reader, I can see it going two ways: Either Roose will be forced to finally act in a drastic way after avoiding his responsibility in regards to Ramsay and he will be forced to get rid of his son, making him break the only moral hurdle he has presented adhering to during the story (though analyzing his character, the kinslaying taboo is probably less a sign of moral fortitude and more him using the guise of morals to explain a selfish motivation). Or he might not act against Ramsay and suffer the consequences, presenting an interesting moral situation where some readers might consider his action "better" or more relatable than Stannis', breaking up the otherwise very black and white moral comparison between the two men. It serves as an interesting conflict of the morality of kinslaying compared to what readers might see as a moral obligation of getting rid of a monster such as Ramsay; contrasting Shireen whose death would not be seen as worth it by most. Ramsay as a bastard (who was almost killed at birth if he hadnt been able to prove his paternity) also makes for an interesting verbal parallel with the bastard Edric Storm, and might be used for a look at the utilitarian principle of killing a child (baby ramsay/edric) to save countless people from suffering that underpinned Edric's story.

"As Faulkner says, all of us have the capacity in us for great good and for great evil, for love but also for hate. I wanted to write those kinds of complex character in a fantasy, and not just have all the good people get together to fight the bad guy." - Grrm

"Robert, I ask you, what did we rise against Aerys Targaryen for, if not to put an end to the murder of children?" - Eddard VIII, aGoT

"If Joffrey should die . . . what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?" - "Everything," said Davos, softly. - Davos V, aSoS

However Grrm decides to present these conflicts or which actions the characters will take in the end, it will result in interesting discussion and analysis for the readers.

His Endgame?

Looking at the trends of the past books, it is probably going to be hard to predict any specific outcome; every book introduces new characters and plot elements that were impossible to predict from the last book even if their thematic importance or setup was aptly foreshadowed.

Roose has a lot of plot importance and characterization that has, in my opinion, not yet been properly resolved in a way that would be unique and poignant to the specific purpose his character appears to fulfil. However I also have a bias in that i did not like the show's writing of that scene which makes me averse to see a version of it in the books, and i really like Roose as a character and want to see him have more scenes in the next book(s). This leads me to discount plot speculation that cuts his character arc short offscreen early. Roose is only a side character; however, i have trust in grrm's writing abilities and that he would give him a proper sendoff that feels satisfying to a fan of the character.

"…even the [characters] who are complete bastards, nasty, twisted, deeply flawed human beings with serious psychological problems… When I get inside their skin and look out through their eyes, I have to feel a certain — if not sympathy, certainly empathy for them. I have to try to perceive the world as they do, and that creates a certain amount of affection." — George Martin

Considering my earlier analyis, there is a case to be made for Roose killing Ramsay; however it appears grrm might have a different endgame in mind for Ramsay, foreshadowed in Chett's prologue:

There'd be no lord's life for the leechman's son, no keep to call his own, no wives nor crowns. Only a wildling's sword in his belly, and then an unmarked grave. The snow's taken it all from me . . . the bloody snow . . . - Chett, aSoS

I tend to think something might happen to Roose/the Bolton bloc later in the book that would cause Ramsay to attempt to flee the scene again like he did back in aCoK fleeing Rodrik's justice; perhaps Ramsay is sent out to battle but then flees it like a coward, or he sees his cause as lost. This time, the fleeing and potentially disguised Ramsay would not make it out to safety though, and get killed without being recognized as Ramsay, dying forgotten. This would serve as dramatic irony since Ramsay so strongly desired to be recognized and respected as a Lord of Bolton, without being too on the nose.

As for Roose, i could see him getting captured and somehow brought to justice (either when someone takes Winterfell or in some sort of battle). I see it unlikely that he will be backstabbed like Robb was, because it seems very "eye for an eye" and ultimately doesn't teach much of a lesson except "he had it coming"; But the various people conspiring against him could lead to his capture by betraying him (giving a payoff to the northern conspiracies and the red wedding). I would find a scene of him standing trial interesting since i believe we didn't have one of these for a true non-pov villain yet, and it would be an interesting confrontation that he cannot escape from (he also loves to talk so it would be a good read to see him make a case for himself).

I assume Roose will be out of the picture when the Other plot finally properly kicks into gear (whether dead or "in prison"). With Stannis as a false Azor Ahai and Roose as a false Other (with his pale, cold features), their struggle in the north seems to be a representation of the false "Game of Thrones" that distracts people from the "real threat" of the Others.

As always this is just my opinion, and it could all go very differently in the books! There could always be something that completely uproots my analysis and goes into a direction i did not expect from the material we had; But i have fate that Grrm as a writer will deliver and give me something i can be satisfied with.

[genshin-impact-updates]

"Beneath the Light of Jadeite" Version 1.5 Update Notice

Dear Travelers,

To ensure all Travelers have the best-possible Genshin Impact experience, our developers will soon begin performing update maintenance. After this is complete, the game will update to a new version.

After Travelers install the new game client, they will be able to continue playing. It is recommended to install the update over a Wi-Fi connection owing to the large file size.

While the update maintenance is in progress, Travelers will be unable to log in to the game. Please take note of the update time and schedule your game time accordingly to avoid losing your progress. We hope Travelers will bear with us during the disruption. > <

〓Update Schedule〓

Update maintenance begins 2021/04/28 06:00 (UTC+8) and is estimated to take 5 hours.

(Note: Precise timings are subject to change. Players may also experience disruption outside of this period.)

〓How to Update Game Client〓

PC: Close the game, open the Genshin Impact Launcher, and click Update.

iOS: Open the App Store and tap Update.

Android: Open the game and follow the directions on-screen. (Alternatively, you may open Google Play and tap Update.)

PS4: Highlight Genshin Impact from the PS4 Home Screen and press the OPTIONS button > Check for Update.

Please do not hesitate to contact Customer Service if you encounter any issues installing the new version. We will do our very best to resolve the issue.

〓Compensation〓

Maintenance Compensation: Primogems ×300

(60 Primogems for every hour the servers are down. No change to compensation amount if the update is completed early.)

〓Eligibility〓

All Travelers who have reached Adventure Rank 5 or above by 2021/04/28 06:00 (UTC+8)

Our developers will distribute compensation to Travelers via in-game mail within 5 hours after the update maintenance is finished. Please log in and claim it before Version 1.5 ends. The mail will expire after 30 days, so don't forget to claim the attached compensation in time.

〓Update Details〓

I. New System

New System: Serenitea Pot

◇ Adepti use Serenitea Pots as media through which they can channel their adeptal power and create realms and abodes.

As the owner of this realm, you may decorate it however you wish and turn it into a home away from home.

After using and summoning the Serenitea Pot, you can interact with it and enter the abode within.

Teapot Spirit

A spirit that lives inside the teapot. It is said that she was created by the adepti themselves. She looks after many matters within the realm, serving as a butler of sorts.

Trust Rank

As you place more furnishings and increase the level of Adeptal Energy within the realm, the teapot spirit will become more trustful of you.

Adeptal Energy

The amount of Adeptal Energy within the realm will gradually increase along with the number of furnishings placed.

Creating

You can obtain the materials required to create furnishings in many different ways, all around Teyvat. For example, you can obtain wood for making Furnishings by cutting down trees.

Realm Depot

You can use Realm Currency in the Serenitea Pot to exchange for items of your choice.

II. New Characters

5-Star Character "Dance of the Shimmering Wave" Eula (Cryo)

◇ Vision: Cryo

◇ Weapon: Claymore

◇ The Spindrift Knight, a scion of the old aristocracy, and the Captain of the Knights of Favonius Reconnaissance Company. The reason for which a descendant of the ancient nobles might join the Knights remains a great mystery in Mondstadt to this very day.

4-Star Character "Wise Innocence" Yanfei

◇ Vision: Pyro

◇ Weapon: Catalyst

◇ A well-known legal adviser active in Liyue Harbor. A brilliant young lady in whose veins runs the blood of an illuminated beast.

III. New Equipment

▌ New Weapon

Song of Broken Pines (5-Star Claymore)

▌ New Artifacts

Tenacity of the Millelith (4-Star and 5-Star)

Pale Flame (4-Star and 5-Star)

◆ Obtain artifacts in the above sets from Ridge Watch, the new Domain of Blessing at Bishui Plain.

IV. New Domains

New Domain: Ridge Watch

◆ Obtain artifacts in the "Tenacity of the Millelith" and "Pale Flame" sets from Ridge Watch, the new Domain of Blessing at Bishui Plain.

New Trounce Domain: Beneath the Dragon-Queller

The new Trounce Domain, Beneath the Dragon-Queller, has been added to the Nantianmen area.

◆ Unlocked after completing Zhongli's Story Quest "Historia Antiqua Chapter: Act II - No Mere Stone."

After updating to Version 1.5, there will be three opportunities to halve the Original Resin cost when claiming rewards from Trounce Blossoms in Trounce Domains and the "Lupus Boreas, Dominator of Wolves" challenge (after the V1.5 update – 2021/05/03 04:00). The number of opportunities resets every Monday at 04:00 (Server time).

Travelers should complete the update to V1.5 first before completing the relevant challenges for the week April 26 – May 2.

V. New Monsters

1. Cryo Hypostasis

◇ Elemental creatures who protect themselves from incoming attack with their durable shell.

2. Azhdaha

◇ An enormous dragon as ancient as the mountains themselves.

3. New Elite Monster: Abyss Lector - Violet Lightning

◇ A creature of the Abyss Order that calls upon thunder and lightning in praise of the darkness.

VI. New Event: Energy Amplifier Initiation - Take part and exchange for "Kätzlein Cocktail" Diona (Cryo)!

◇ In an effort to gather and research Irminsul Fruit Fragments, Sumeru researcher Hosseini has entrusted a mysterious ancient relic to you for a time: the Energy Amplifier. Help Hosseini to gather Irminsul Fruit Fragments and unleash their power with the Energy Amplifier.

◆ Event Gameplay Duration: 2021/04/30 10:00 – 2021/05/17 03:59

◆ Eligibility: Adventure Rank 20 or above

▌ Places of Interest

During the event period, go to Places of Interest and defeat the opponents there to gather Irminsul Fruit Fragments and obtain Fractured Fruit Data.

▌ Domains

During the event period, successfully challenge Domains to obtain Fractured Fruit Data.

▌ Twisted Realm

During the event period, challenge the Twisted Realm and get as high a score as you can. Reach a combined score of certain amounts to claim Fractured Fruit Data.

◆ Even more events will subsequently become available. Stay tuned, Travelers.

VII. New Quests

1. New Story Quests

Zhongli's Story Quest: Historia Antiqua Chapter - Act II "No Mere Stone"

◆Eula's Story Quest "Aphros Delos Chapter: Act I" will become available at a later date.

2. New Hangout Events

Hangout Event: Diona - Act I "The Cat and the Cocktail"

◇ They say that there's a popular bartender at The Cat's Tail.

Hangout Event: Noelle - Act II "Knightly Exam Prep"

◇ Noelle reveals to you that she is very anxious about the Knights of Favonius selection exam. At your suggestion, she decides to emulate the knights she knows in an attempt to overcome her sense of unease.

3. New World Quests

◆ Adds World Quests related to the Serenitea Pot: "A Teapot to Call Home: Part I" and "A Teapot to Call Home: Part II"

◆ Quest Unlock Criteria:

• Adventure Rank 35 or above

• Completed the Archon Quest "Chapter I: Act III - A New Star Approaches"

◆ New World Quests: "A Timeless Classic" and "When the Trail Goes Cold"

*Other new World Quests will be added at a later date, including "Mr. Melancholy" and "Mimi Tomo"

VIII. Other Additions

●Gameplay

New Gadget: Serenitea Pot

New Recipes: Stormcrest Pie, "My Way," Crab Roe Tofu, Stir-Fried Fish Noodles, Cured Pork Dry Hotpot

New Inventory Category: Furnishings

New Precious Items: Dream Solvent, Transient Resin, Vial of Adeptal Speed, Sanctifying Unction, Sanctifying Essence

New Achievements: "A Realm Beyond: Series I," "Memories of the Heart," etc.

New Namecards: "Celebration: Fruit of Wisdom," "Celebration: Peekaboo!," "Yanfei: Impartial," "Eula: Ice-Sealed," "Travel Notes: Sub-Space Recreation," "Achievement: Tea Time"

Spiral Abyss:

○ Floor 11 Ley Line Disorders changed to:

• Your character will be periodically inflicted with Slowing Water, greatly increasing your skills' CD duration until the inflicted Hydro element is removed.

• Physical DMG dealt by all party members increased by 75%.

○ Updates the monster lineup on Floor 11 of the Spiral Abyss.

○ Updates the monster lineup on Floor 12 of the Spiral Abyss.

Starting from the first time that the Lunar Phase refreshes after updating to Version 1.5, the three Lunar Phases will be as follows:

○ Phase 1: Blade-Dance Moon

When a character scores consecutive hits on an opponent with Normal Attacks within 2s, this character's Physical DMG is increased by 5% for 10s. This effect stacks up to 5 times, and only 1 stack is added at a time regardless of how many enemies are hit in one strike. When 5 stacks have been obtained, further hits on opponents will unleash shockwaves that deal AoE DMG. A shockwave can be created in this manner once every 1s.

○ Phase 2: Thorny Moon

A backlash will occur when opponents hit a character protected by a shield, unleashing a shockwave that deals AoE DMG. Can occur once every 6s.

○ Phase 3: Rebellious Moon

When a character scores Normal, Charged, and Plunging Attack hits that deal Physical DMG to opponents, this character's CRIT Rate is increased by 3% for 10s. This effect stacks up to 5 times, and only 1 stack is added at a time regardless of how many enemies are hit in one strike. When 5 stacks have been obtained, CRIT Hits on opponents will unleash shockwaves that deal AoE DMG. A shockwave can be created in this manner once every 1s.

●System

The new Mail Pins function has been added. Pinned mail will be placed at the top of your mail list and will not be deleted when pressing Delete Read. However, pinned mail will still expire as normal.

●Audio

Adds voiced interactions for characters in the open world.

Adds a Compatibility Mode option for the audio API on Android devices. Try switching to this mode if you experience any of the following issues:

Distorted sound (electrical noise) from your device, failure to switch between left and right audio channels, screen recordings do not capture audio, screen recordings feature distorted audio, difficulty switching to and from earphones when plugged in/removed, electrical noise through Bluetooth earphones.

Adds Japanese voice-over for certain characters.

Due to unforeseen circumstances, in English, the voice of Diona in Diona's Hangout Event is temporarily provided by Jackie Lastra.

IX. Optimizations

●System

Three opportunities will arise every week to halve the Original Resin cost of revitalizing the Trounce Blossoms at the Trounce Domains and Dominator of Wolves challenges.

In Co-Op Mode, when there are two or less characters in the team that can be controlled per player, the Companionship EXP obtained is doubled.

New Voice-Over Files Management function added to PC and mobile: You can uninstall voice-over files by going to Settings > Language > Manage Voice-Over Files. (In Version 1.5, you must first update the voice-over files under Settings > Language > Voice-Over Language before you can uninstall them.)

Optimizations to some controls when using a controller:

• When moving the left joystick up and down to select who you want to chat with, the right side of the screen will switch to the corresponding chat information without needing to first press the Confirm button.

• Move the left joystick to the right to enter the selected chat.

• The Sort Rule button on the Weapons screen (in Inventory), Artifacts screen (in Inventory), and Character Selection screen (in the Character Menu) has been changed from the up button to the down button.

• The left joystick can now be used to switch between sections of the interface in Settings and Achievements.

• Optimizes the display design of the Controller screen: When a button status changes from usable to unusable, the button icon will be hidden.

• On the Report screen, the default button for text editing has been made consistent with the controls of other in-game interface: for PlayStation controllers, this has been changed from the circle button to the square button; for Xbox controllers, this has been changed from the B button to the X button.

• The controls to skip the Battle Pass animation, Wish animation, and animation of claiming rewards in Domains has been changed for controller users: now, hold the circle/B button to skip; the confirmation pop-up window has been removed.

• The button layout display of different controllers has been made consistent.

• The controls for closing the pop-up menus for Artifact Enhancement, Weapon Enhancement, Artifact Filter, and Character Selection has been changed: the Back button previously closed the entire screen, but it now only closes the pop-up menu.

Optimizes the default text and display status in the text entry box:

• Unsent text in the text entry box will be saved as a draft in the current chat's text entry box.

• When the text entry box in the current chat is empty, the draft (if any have been saved) will be displayed.

• The text entry box will be cleared after a draft is completed and sent, if the chat is deleted from the chat list, or after exiting the game.

Optimizes some displays of chat boxes on PC and PlayStation®4:

• After deleting the other player in the chat, the chat content on the main chat screen will be deleted.

• After going offline, chat content on the main chat screen will be cleared. It will only display new messages received after the last time you went offline (including messages received while offline).

Optimizes aiming on mobile:

• On mobile, three additional adjustment levels have been added under Settings > Camera Sensitivity (Aimed Shot Mode). It has been increased from the original levels 1 to 5 (which now correspond with the new levels 4 to 8) to the new adjustment levels 1 to 8.

• On mobile, the Acceleration Slider (Aimed Mode) setting has been added. With this setting enabled, the camera movement speed will change dynamically with the speed of your finger. Sliding faster causes the camera angle to rotate more.

The amount of Condensed Resin has been added above the button to claim rewards for Domains and Ley Line Blossoms (if you have no Condensed Resin, it will not be displayed).

Optimizes the anti-aliasing effect on the avatar in one's profile.

Optimizes the animation performance of Zhongli's Plunging Attack.

●Co-Op

Optimizes the animation performance of nearby monsters and objects in Co-Op Mode when the visiting player is far from the host player.

●Other

Optimizes the aesthetics of lighting effects of certain weapons after ascension.

Adjusts some missions in Battle Pass > Weekly Missions (the total BEP that can be earned remains unchanged by the adjustment).

Deleted BP Missions:

• Collect 100 Mondstadt local specialties

• Collect 100 Liyue local specialties

• Complete the Wolf of the North Challenge

• Complete the Stormterror Domain Challenge

• Complete the Golden House Challenge

New BP Missions:

• Complete Trounce Domains or the Dominator of Wolves challenge 3 times

• Obtain a total of 1,000 Realm Currency

• Create a total of 10 furnishings

• Purchase 2 items from the Teapot Traveling Salesman in another player's Serenitea Pot

The Stellar Reunion event is amended as follows:

a. Deletes the following quests:

• Forge 3 items

• Defeat boss enemy 1 time

b. Adds the following quests:

• Level up a character once using any quantity of Character EXP Materials

• Enhance a weapon once

• Enhance an artifact once

c. For the Original Resin consumption quests, decreases the quantity of Original Resin that Travelers at Adventure Rank 10–50 are required to consume

No change has been made to the total points that can be obtained in one day.

Applies to: Travelers who activate the Stellar Reunion event after the V1.5 update

*For details on other bug fixes, please see the Version Update Details notice to be posted at 2021/04/28 07:00 (UTC+8)

[palestporn]

Could I ask for a blurb on Karkat removing Gamzee's paint as a part two of that one you just posted, from Gamzee's perspective? 🥺

Ahhhh, anon, y'all get me so well. eue (The aforementioned part one)

--

You shouldn't be painting Karkat. It's a motherfucking shame, is what it is. A sin, and shit. Using holy paints for holy faces on a troll who never even had inclination to be part of the family.

Fuck but he takes to it so sweet, though. He sits and he purrs and he lets you paint a smile onto his lips and the tired ache of his ganderflaps. When you're done he looks up at you with a face like yours and not like, made painted and precious by your hand, turned into another him. A brother, kin, family, and still all at the same motherfucking time your best friend, your salty-tongued little sinner. Your miracle moirail.

You haven't talked about it. But it happens, every perigee or so, that he invites and allows and you give in weak and warmed and pale, and you take his fragile choke in hand and paint righteous shapes over his beloved face.

You haven't talked about it, and yet he learns.

You didn't get up into anticipation, is the thing. Didn't get your know on, that he'd take some real church shit from the paints, and look you in the eyes and know just exactly how it takes you, getting your face so sweetly stripped away. After that first time he knows just exactly the measure of how you like it, the fearful flayed tenderness of his starshine paleness on your bared and naked face, and he makes full and sinful use of that knowing.

You come to him in holy rage, at morning; heard someone on the look for him, for a little redblood mutant, overdue for the cull they called him. He soothes you down easy and slow, and when you confess you held yourself back, when you tell him you abandoned rage for fear of drawing them back to you, he smiles sharp like a slice of moonrise and kisses one of your horns.

"There is a thinkpan in there after all," he says, and swats you on the nugbone. "Cull smarter, not harder. We'll figure that out later."

"Yeah," you say, and catch there, wanting to ask but not quite able. This is what he said, right? Some night when you come to him first and don't give in and make a holy ruckus, if you play it smart enough...

He must get his read up on into your thinkpan, because the next thing he says is "Come on. Pile, get moving," and herds you off to the respite block like a lusus herding a grub.

He gets bossy with you some days, your angry-sweet palemate; he never dared the first few perigees, but he came to read you real powerful motherfucking quick, and now he learns how to push, the ways you like. He fists up a hot clawed frond in your shirt as you come to the respite block, tugs and captchalogues it right off you, so sudden you almost stumble right over about it. Reaches up to run his palm down past the joke of a seadweller fin that goes all down your cartilage column and pets over it, hot and slow.

"Down," he says, like he's expecting no argument. You don't mean to but you growl at that, some buried piece of pride shooting up sharp behind your eyes. But Karkat doesn't back down, like he never does, he just growls right back. "Alright, fine," he says. "Then turn around."

You know what he's up to and you stumble as you turn, you're fighting yourself so hard. It wasn't ever so hard, on sopor, you could've turned your horns and bared your throat for any stranger on the motherfucking street--but you're not on sopor now, and it's only by the deft way he makes with his fronds that he gets cuffs on you. Instinct catches on back up a spare second later and you're pulling at them, feeling how he has you cornered and how you let him and how you want him to and how you hate it.

It's a poisonous thing, this troll disease called instinct.

"Now, lie down," he says, and this time you're pushes and pulled and you get your lie on down, one staggering bend at a time, until he can swing a leg over you and bear you down to the pile with the weight of him, with your claws turned useless behind your back.

"Pale for you," he says, and pats your cheek, the soft pap, pap of palm on paint. "Are you going to chill out and talk? Or am I going to have to make you?"

You're split, two trolls in one, snarling at him and each other. You can't make me do shit and yeah he fucking can, he could do whatever he wants, he could hurt you kill you he'll strip you bare.

Karkat just sighs when you growl some salty invective at him, sets his hard little jaw and pulls out a rag.

You twitch away when he starts at your face, at the first brush of cloth on your cheek you snarl and twist under him. You're soothed from that first killing rage but not near calmed yet. The holy noise of shriek and cackle and harshwhimsy in your pan, crying out for the blood you should've spilled. You can't allow, won't abide, the way he wants to strip you raw and look at your insides.

He rides out the way you turn and shift, props up one frond on the flat of your thorax and presses down there, gentle like surf and heavy like a behemoth, cruel like a red-hot iron.

It's too much as it always is. It's not enough, as it always isn't. It's a deep and abiding holy motherfucking terror, and you want him to. You want him to do it. You'll tear his frond off at the bend if he tries.

"Shoosh," he tells you, and he touches you like you touch him when you paint him, puts a frond at your choke and holds there. Not gentle-soft but firm and hard, not to make you shiver but to hold your fangs closed and in check. Tamed.

Pride shrieks at you. Your thorax makes like to purr.

"Trust me," he says, like an order, and he lifts his hand from your thorax to run just fingertips past your cheek where the cloth touched. There's a place where his touch is hot and close and there's nothing to hide you from it--he touches there, over and over, that single smallest crack in your holy face, stealing the air out of you.

"Go on," he says, and finally takes his touch from your face, only to pick up cloth and cleaner again. "Let it out."

"I should've fucking killed them," comes from you, like you were just waiting for the permission, snarling bent out of shape by what wants to be a purr. "This bullshit, fuckin', sinful-ass mercy-- They won't lay fronds on you, I won't allow--"

"Later," he says, merciful, merciless, and swipes a great gash of white and grey from your cheek. He's no highblood, but his grip right at the choke of your breathways presses firm and up and in, holds your fangs in check and reminds you how he has you held. He tames down your struggling easy. He watches you hard. He follows line of paint across your cheek and without the mask of the messiahs the heat follows along his touch, turns the fragile shell of your flesh hot and purple.

He says, "Are you pissed, or are you scared?"

You snap at him. He draws his hand away just long enough to avoid and then comes right back and keeps at your paint, clears across one brow and under your hair, unrelenting.

"Well?" he says, like you never tried. "Pissed, or scared?"

"Can't it be. Both motherfucking things," you snarl, and he sighs at you, pets a thumb along your fins and draws a groan out of you, like torture.

It gets harder to be angry as he uncovers you, starting at your edges and working across until there's only shreds of your face left to you. Rage comes harder to your fronds, no matter how you reach at it, and by the time he touches soft cloth at your lip you're shaking. The rage leaves you and behind it there's just fear.

You couldn't ever motherfucking abide being scared.

"Trust me," Karkat says, like he knows, and his hot, hard hand comes to one horn and squeezes slow and steady. And then, "Close your eyes."

If you close your eyes you give in, shameful blood-traitor disgrace of your holy and murderous faith. If you close your eyes you're left weak and cuffed and bare-face and useless to protect him. To protect either of you. Makes your fangs grind, your breath come shaking.

You close your eyes.

"Good," he tells you, and his hand doesn't have to press at your choke anymore, not now. Now when he's won you and he knows it. You squeeze your eyes shut and your best friend makes reward of gentle touch along your ears, across your fins, down your throat. Through your hair, along your horns where you can feel barely a thread of fear in him, hardly a taste. You could make him fear, if you could focus yourself--you could make him scream and cower and haunt his daymares until any sign of you was dreadful to him.

He brushes cloth delicate past the hollow of your skull, the soft place he could so easy put an eye out. You'd let him. You let him.

"Good," he says again, finally, and the rag that comes to your skin is warm and wet and you feel it on every inch of where your face should be. No highblood, now, no face, no duties, no name, no caste. Made less and released. Turned to less than nothing and then treasured that way. You didn't kill them, and you should have, and he could be hurt because of it. He's proud and he's pleased with you. You're torn open for him, and he won't hurt you. He told you to trust him.

"Do you want to open your eyes yet?" Karkat says, rough and gentle, and the thing you've become sniffs and shakes its head. Your eyes are burning at you. If you open them, you'll see him see you.

Karkat says, "Is there anything else you need to tell me?"

Karkat says, "Gamzee. Hey."

Gamzee. That's you, or was, or will be. You're nothing, now, but you answered that name, one time. And Karkat's touching you, the face you're not meant to show--earthly, unholy--touching it gentle like it's his own holy relic.

"'M here," you say, or try to. His touch is on your cheek and your lips and your burning closed-tight eyes. The soft places left without cover. "I'm, fuck. Karkat. Fuck."

He says, "I'm so pale for you, you fucked up mess," like reverence, and you tug at your wrists and find them bound, turn your face and find only his palm, like it's what you were looking for all along.

[kumeko]

A/N: For the @fe3hmonthly (on twitter) Goddess Messenger zine! I wanted to write a smattering of pairings I haven’t explored as much as I’d like.

…

…

…

…

i.

Everywhere Claude looked, it was white. The grounds, the roofs, even the sky were this dreary shade of eggshell, as though even nature couldn’t muster up any energy. It was Great Tree Moon, the starting of spring, and yet Fódlan still felt like it was in the throes of winter. He shouldn’t have been surprised; even his textbooks had told him that Fódlan’s winters lasted longer, were colder, and were gloomier than anything he’d experienced in Almyra.

Still, it was one thing to read about it, another to experience it. Claude laced his hands behind his head as he strolled through the interconnecting passages between the academy buildings. All in all, it wouldn’t have been too bad if the buildings were just a little festive. At this point, Almyra was in the middle of spring preparations, the buildings decorated in bright papers and the people in even brighter clothes. The academy? Even the new year decorations were down now, leaving this depressing sight.

Claude hadn’t expected to feel homesick over something as trivial as this. He hadn’t expected to feel homesick at all.

“Hey, Claude!” Hilda waved as she fell in step beside him. Her pink hair bobbed as she walked. Clasping her hands behind her back, she leaned forward and asked, “So, what’s your take on the new professor?”

“Byleth?” Claude raised a brow, looking at his right-hand woman. Another thing he hadn’t expected: finding a partner in Hilda. Her slothful attitude hid a brilliant mind, one almost on par with his for mischief making, and he had plans.

“Who else?” Hilda laughed, shaking her head. “Gosh, you’re so silly sometimes.”

He didn’t bother to reply to that. Instead he hummed thoughtfully as he considered her question. “Byleth…huh…”

“I mean, she must have really impressed you if you asked her to be our teacher.” Hilda straightened up. Tapping her chin, she mused, “I don’t think I could handle Hanneman-levels of strictness. It’d be nice if she was relaxed like Manuela.”

“Neither, I think.” Claude shrugged. Even now he remembered the ease with which she’d protected Edelgard, her confidence as she fought—it put her head and shoulders above the other two teachers. Add in her ridiculously blank face and he had found entertainment for the rest of the year. “She’s real quick on her feet. Strong too. And unlike Hanneman and Manuela, she has a lot of experience.”

A mercenary who’d seen the continent, who’d travelled from town to town, untouched by the church…part of him wondered just what change she could bring to the academy. To his classmates. To himself. What was her view on things?

“Well, that’s good and all, but…” Hilda groaned. Her long pigtails brushed against him as she hunched over. “She’s totally going to give us a lot of work.”

“Probably,” Claude agreed, patting Hilda on the back. “Especially considering the Battle of Eagle and Lion are coming up. I wonder if she’ll be ready for it.”

Hilda groaned again, leaning against him. He wrapped an arm around her to steady her as she dramatically sighed. “You should have just let us take Manuela.”

“Nah, Teach is perfect for us. Trust me.” Their pace was slower now, his arm still wrapped around Hilda’s waist. Oddly, he didn’t mind. “Though….”

“Though?” Hilda glanced up at him, raising a brow. He didn’t miss the spark of interest in her eyes.

“Well, maybe we could give her a test of our own.” Claude grinned, eyeing the endless snow. This would solve both of his problems. “Something to make sure she’s ready for the Battle of Eagle and Lion, and maybe have a little fun while we’re at it.”

Hilda furrowed her brow, her expression distrustful. “Fun?”

“Back in…” Claude caught himself. “Back at home, my family has this fun tradition every spring. We throw colourful powders at each other.”

Her distrust turned into confusion. “You threw powderat each other?”

“Well, we usually wait till it’s a little warmer too. Trust me, it’s better than it sounds. It’s kinda like a free-for-all tag.” Claude shrugged. If there was one good thing about the border situation with Almyra, it was that no one in Fódlan knew what he was describing. As far as they were concerned, he was just describing an event from a backwater town. “We’ll make it a mock battle. Maybe we could do it with snowballs? Or fill thin waterskins with coloured water?”

The more he spoke, the more enamoured with the idea he became. Their class, just barely acquainted, could properly learn about each other. More importantly, it’d be the first Almyran thing he’d done in a year and he tried to hide his rising enthusiasm. “Maybe it can be all of us against Teach.”

Hilda, however, was on the opposite side of the spectrum. She grimaced. “That sounds like a lotta work.”

“Just a little.” When she still shot him a baleful stare, he tightened his grip on her waist and rested his head on her chin. “Come on, it’ll be fun. You’ll like it. Besides…you can always rope in the others to do the work.”

“I’d do that anyways,” she replied bluntly, though she didn’t pull away or object further.

Claude chuckled. He should have expected that answer. “Fine, you can watch during the game?”

“Let’s just say you owe me one,” Hilda replied, smiling cunningly as she pulled out of his arms.

“Blackmail?” He clutched his heart. “To think you’d stoop so low.”

“Please, like you wouldn’t do the same to me,” Hilda retorted before breaking into laughter.

“True.” Claude shrugged. There was no point in denying it. “Let’s see if Anna’s willing to cut us a deal on some supplies.”

Hilda snorted, hooking an arm through his. “Like she’d let you have a penny.”

“Oh, she’ll give me more.” When Hilda turned to him, bemused, Claude winked. “Blackmail material, remember?”

ii.

The library was quiet. Not in the way Claude was used to, where you could still hear rustling paper and erasers hitting the floor, or the soft groans of students as they tried to finish exams. No, this was the silence of the uninhabited, where only the wind blowing in through the cracks broke the silence.

It had been a long five years since the library had last been used. Holding up his lamp, Claude slowly slung it from side to side, checking the cobweb-covered shelves for intruders. Not even a rat scurried out of his sight. “I guess I can’t tease Lysithea about it now.”

Lorenz didn’t reply as he checked the other half of the dark library. The light flickered, casting shadows on his face and Claude couldn’t read his expression.

Curious, Claude tried again. “Even I feel like a ghost can pop out at any moment.”

“Yes,” Lorenz muttered non-committedly, falling in step with Claude as they exited the room. Everything about him was unnaturally stiff, from his shoulders to the way he jerked at every sound. Grinning, Claude leaned closer and blew in his ear.

Lorenz yelped, jumping. Covering his ear, he glared at Claude. “What is wrong with you?”

“Just thought you needed some help relaxing.” Claude held his hands up in surrender. He hadn’t expected this much of a reaction. “Scared?”

“It is not fear.” Lorenz rubbed his arm, looking away. “It’s just…”

They were passing the courtyard now. Half it was still covered in rubble. “It’s not?” he asked as he stepped over a pothole.

“This place…it’s a graveyard,” Lorenz whispered.

“Oh.” There really wasn’t anything else he could say to that. It was. He hadn’t thought of it that way, but it was.

They rounded the corner to the great hall, where they’d temporarily set up the patrol camp. It was the best place to keep an eye on everything. Lorenz added, “You don’t think my father…our lands and people, will end up like this?”

“What’re you talking about?” Baffled, Claude raised a brow. “We’re fighting this war to prevent that.”

“I know, I know, it is just…the Empire will know my father’s decisions. If we fail…” Lorenz gestured around them. “They will not let us off lightly. Everything could disappear.”

“Oh.” Maybe he should have expected this, considering how they were planning to visit Lord Gloucester. Lorenz’s homeland straddled the border of the battlefield, and while his father had managed to balance its duties to the Leicester Alliance with treaties to the Empire, it couldn’t last much longer.

In the dark night, it was easy for old fears to resurface. They were surrounded by ghosts and the silence only made them louder. Even the few merchants that had returned didn’t make enough sound to echo through the great hall.

Lorenz almost seemed to shrink into himself. “I know it is a little late to say all of this.”

Claude studied Lorenz, taking note of how pale he looked in the faint light and how his fingers shook as he held the lantern. If Lorenz couldn’t convince himself, how could he convince his father? Donning a reassuring smile, he shook his head. “It’ll work out.”

While he didn’t pull away, Lorenz looked at him doubtfully. “How?”

“Because we’re here!” Claude squeezed Lorenz’s shoulder, winking. “A Reigan and a Gloucester? You think anyone can stand up to this combo?”

“I…” Lorenz bit his lip as he slowly nodded, looking utterly unconvinced. “I suppose.”

This wasn’t the Lorenz he was used to; he hadn’t even considered it a chance to best him. Claude sat down on a bench as they exited Great Hall and patted the spot beside him. “Come on. Sit.”

“We haven’t finished our patrol,” Lorenz pointed out, eyeing the bench.

“We can have a little break.” He set down the lantern at his feet. “Come on, it won’t harm us.”

“Until we’re attacked.” Despite his grumbling, Lorenz sat down beside him.

“You can keep me warm till then.” Claude slung his arm around Lorenz. He squawked, his ears a bright red, but he didn’t move away.

As usual, a Lone Moon night was a chilly one. On nights like this in Almyra, Claude’s family would gather, telling stories as they warded off the cold. Winter’s claws desperately dug into spring, but a warm night was enough to chase it away.

“What’re you looking forward to?” Claude asked, staring at the lantern. It didn’t take much imagination to see a bigger flame in its stead, to imagine blankets and hot drinks in their hands. In the last several years, he had learned how to sneak in his customs into life, to keep his Almyran memories alive.

“What do you mean?” Lorenz asked, hesitantly leaning closer.

Claude laughed, pulling him close enough so Lorenz could lean on his shoulder comfortably. This time there wasn’t even a squeak, though Lorenz’s ears were an even darker red. “Well, we’re going to your home, right? Tell me about it.”

He didn’t so much see Lorenz’s frown as much as he felt it. “I suspect your intentions.”

“Completely honest and pure,” he replied easily. Resting his chin on Lorenz’s head, he added, “Just think of it as a way to pass the time.”

For a long moment, Lorenz was silent. Then, slowly, he replied, “There’s a rose garden that I’ve hand-planted. It won’t be much in the spring but come summer…you won’t find bigger blooms anywhere else.”

Claude hummed encouragingly, letting Lorenz’s voice chase away the ghosts.

iii.

Byleth’s hand was in his. There were many things Khalid could have been focusing on, like the fact that they were strolling through an Almyran marketplace together. After the war, he hadn’t thought it’d only take a year for him to return to her side, that he’d make it all the way to king so quickly. Absence didn’t only make the heart fonder, it seemed, but his ambitions stronger too.

Or he could focus on what he was saying. Ever since she’d rode into Almyra’s capital, Khalid had taken it onto himself to guide her through his home. Everything was new to her, and while her expression was still hard to read, it wasn’t impossible anymore. Her eyes widened at the brightly coloured stalls, her lips parted at the scent of sizzling meat and fried vegetables, and her grip tightened every time some new, strange sight caught her attention.

Yet, it was hard to care about anything except for the fact that she was here, next to him, her fingers intertwined in his. He wasn’t even sure what he was saying right now, his normally fast mind frozen as he drank in the sight of her. Her hand was just as rough as he’d remembered. Even months as the ruler of Fódlan hadn’t changed that. Calluses and small cuts littered her palm, and his thumb unconsciously brushed a scar on her thumb.

“Why are there so many?” Byleth asked.

“Because—” Khalid stared at her blankly before realizing he had no idea what she was talking about. Or even where they were. At some point they’d passed through the market and reached the start of the residential section. “…sorry, so many what?”

Byleth glanced at him curiously. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he replied immediately, squeezing her hand. “The exact opposite.”

She raised a brow, not buying it for a second. Serious as she was, she more often than not saw right through him and Khalid wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Especially when she was still a mystery to him, one he had yet to unravel. He’d probably spend the rest of his life figuring her out.

He oddly enough didn’t mind.

“The kites,” Byleth finally asked, pointing above them. “There weren’t nearly as many yesterday.”

He followed her hand to the bright blue sky, speckled with dozens of colourful kites. There had been a few in the marketplace as well, but now that they were near the homes, the kites were everywhere. Children laughed and shouted as they stood on the flat rooftops, tugging the strings of their kites as they tried not to tangle one another. Their parents kept a watchful eye, ensuring no one fell off as they played along as well.

Khalid had been so busy planning everything, he’d actually forgotten that spring started today. For once, he wasn’t going to spend it in the cold snows of Fódlan, or their dreary hallways. He wouldn’t have to make up a story on old family customs as he convinced his fellow deer to bring his traditions to life and ease his homesickness a little.

No, it was all right here in front of him.

And yet, he couldn’t help but turn to Byleth. It was the first time he’d seen kites dance in several years and all he wanted to see was her expression as she studied their ribbon tails.

“It’s to celebrate spring,” Khalid replied softly, watching her quiet awe. “Nothing as stuffy as Fódlan’s customs.”

“It is different,” she agreed, turning her head slightly to follow a bright red one as it swooped through the air.

“It’s more fun to join in than to watch.” He let go of her hand, scanning their surroundings for a vendor. They weren’t hard to find; almost every shop was selling kites today.

The closest vendor held out two kites, one teal green and the other golden them. Shaking them, he called out, “For you and your consort, Badshah.”

His people were nosy busybodies. Khalid missed the anonymity of his youth, a time when no one cared about who he was or where he went. Still, he was the king now. It wasn’t surprising they were all watching him now.

“I’ll send payment after,” he replied, resisting the urge to sigh as he gently grabbed the two kites.

“No, there is no need—”

“I’m not that cheap,” Khalid replied, grinning as he returned to Byleth’s side. She cocked her head curiously at the kites. “Now let’s—”

“You can fly them here, Badshah!”

Khalid did sigh now. Busybodies, the entire lot of them. Oh well, it was a nice spring day, with a constant, gentle breeze, and Byleth was at his side. He’d save the complaints for later.

The offered roof was two stories off the ground. From here, he could make out the maze of buildings that made the capital, the rooftops he used to dash across as a mischievous child. Byleth brushed back a stray lock as the wind blew. “We fly them up here?”

“Yeah, best spot in the city is one of these rooftops.” Khalid grinned as he handed her the teal kite. Busying himself with unwinding thread for his kite, he added. “There’s a lot of kites here, so you’ll have to keep a tight hold of yours.”

“Why kites?” Byleth stared at her kite, rotating it in her hands. Noticing what he was doing, she imitated him and started to unravel her thread.

“They’re colourful? Fun?” Khalid shrugged. Almost all of his childhood was filled with mundane things that amounted to just cause. He’d spent so much time looking at Fódlan, that he’d never really considered Almyra. Maybe it was time he changed that.

Byleth held her kite awkwardly in one hand, her string in the other. Tossing the kite in the air, she watched as it immediately crashed in front of her. “Huh.”

Immediately, Khalid burst into laughter. “What was that?”

“Flying a kite,” Byleth replied evenly, picking up the kite. Once more, she tossed it in the air. Once more, it crashed right in front of her.

It was even funnier the second time and Khalid wrapped his arms around his belly as he guffawed. “That’s not flying.”

“How do you do it?” she asked, giving him a baleful look.

“You’ve never flown a kite?” He straightened slightly, rubbing the tears out of his eyes.

“No.” Byleth turned the kite in her hands one more time, but her bemused expression didn’t change.

“I don’t know how you always manage to surprise me.” Khalid shook his head, still laughing as he put down his kite and picked up hers. He held it up, waiting for the wind to push against it. Once it did, he grabbed the line, slowly releasing it into the air. As he moved toward Byleth, he released more and more wire, sending the kite high into the sky. “There you go, one flying kite.”

Byleth scrunched her nose as she observed. “I see.”

Unable to help himself, he broke into laughter. “You don’t have to concentrate that hard. It’s easy.”

Her expression didn’t change as she gingerly took the kite. She looked like a wooden doll, square shoulders, tense arms, stony expression as she glared up at the kite, daring it to fall.

“Seriously?” Khalid snorted. There’d come a day when Byleth ceased to either impress him or amuse him, but it wouldn’t be today. “Here, let me show you.”

Standing behind her, he pressed his palms on her shoulders and forced them down. “Relax.” He leaned forward now, his dark hair mixing with her green locks as he guided her arms into a more neutral position. “The wind does most of the work, you just have to guide it.”

“This is harder than it looks,” Byleth muttered, still looking like the kite had personally wronged her.

“Only for you.” Khalid grinned, tugging on the string slightly so the kite swooped. “If you get really good at it, you can even cut other kite strings with your kite.”

Byleth frowned. “Why would you do that?”

“Kite battles. Though, with your stance, you’ll lose every time. Didn’t think you could be bad at something.” Khalid sighed blissfully, feeling utterly content and warm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so complete, without something he needed to strive for, without pushing for yet another destination. They could just stay here for the rest of their lives. “You know, I really missed this in Fódlan.”

Byleth didn’t say anything, but he could feel her lean back into him, encouraging him to continue.

“I didn’t think I’d get homesick of all things.” Khalid chuckled, feeling soft at the memories over the years. “I’d find excuses to worm in traditions into whatever we were doing.”

Byleth stiffened slightly. “Is that why you attacked me with coloured water back then?”

“That…yeah.” Khalid had almost forgotten about that incident—it’d been almost six years ago for him, but for Byleth it had only been last year. “You had fun.”

“Fun…” she trailed off doubtfully.

“Well, everyone else did at least.” Khalid grinned. “The actual festival’s going to come up in a few weeks—you can see what the real thing’s like. That is, if you aren’t homesick by then.”

“…I don’t think I’ll be,” Byleth replied easily.

Somehow, that answer didn’t surprise him. “I bet you’ve never felt homesick, huh?”

“No, I have.” Byleth tugged on the kite string, pulling it lower before releasing it back up. “When you were gone.”

Of all the answers he’d expected, that wasn’t one of them. His voice cracked. “Did you now?”

“Yeah.” Byleth concentrated on the kite, as though this were just an idle observation, as though she hadn’t said anything important.

Khalid wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her neck. Despite how stoic she was, she saw everything so clearly. Suddenly, everything clicked into place for him—he’d been feeling homesick too. It didn’t matter if he was in Almyra or in Fódlan, the sights around him meant nothing if she wasn’t by his side. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Byleth hummed, pressing her cheek on his head. “Me too.”

[insolitus-academy]

♚ //  Face Claim Full name Face Claim: Bae Suzy Group/Band/Occupation: Miss A/Actress Nationality: Korean Faceclaim age: 27

♚ // Character ;  Basic information

Quote: “That's what the world is, after all: an endless battle of contrasting memories.”

 Full name character: Kim Haewon Nickname: Wonberry (as used by her boyfriend) Realm of birth(if earth, nationality): Earth (a different timeline) Age: 26 Date of Birth: May 10th 2038 Gender: Female Preferred Pronouns: She/her Race: Gifted Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual What languages does your character speak?: Korean (native), English (generally fluent) Italian (intermediate) What is the level of Korean and how did they learn to speak it (For non-Korean characters from other realms & other earth-countries): Native level

♚ // Character ; Appearance

Skin Color: Fair to pale (history of anemia) Eye color: Brown Scars: Surprisingly none Piercings: Three piercings in each earlobe Tattoos: None Hair color: Brown Abnormalities: None Horns/ wings/ etc.: N/A Transformed form: N/A

♚ // Character ; Personality

Six personality traits: amiable, diligent, mindful of others, persistent, apprehensive, often aloof

Likes: Playing the piano, music, apple pie, learning languages, cats Dislikes: Darkness, bodies of water (this anxiety belongs to the current timeline), winter, anything with pineapple, being late and others being late Manias: None actually Phobias: Deep water Animal: Hamster for the most part Religion: Yes, she's Christian Favorite song: Wandering Star – Portishead https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gEQNAZGoZrw Vice: Gluttony Virtue: Diligence

 Personality description:

Due to her initial aloof and quiet nature, Haewon is often mistaken for a chronic introvert; and while that may be true to a certain degree, once she opens up, Haewon is able to show an entirely different side to her, one that’s playful, goofy even, and at times all too carefree. Such moments, unfortunately, are not the standard, mostly due to her physical health. As she is often sick, Haewon tends to remain quiet and reserved around any new person, only allowing bits and pieces of her true self to crack through the armor when she deems it safe.

Underneath this frailty, however, hides a rather competitive persona. She is frequently one to take up a challenge and she always strives for perfection, an ‘ailment’ instilled in her by her father. She had never been an athletic type and she can hardly brag about being nimble (if one excluded the fact she was a decent runner), but academia was her terrain and she consistently excelled at what she did.

She is a well-mannered young girl who will put others’ needs before her own, a habit that has been described as both a flaw and a virtue by those who got to know her. That said, once enough buttons have been pushed, Haewon is capable of showing a tougher side, and she does not allow herself to become anyone’s rag.

 ♚ // Character ; Powers Magical Powers:

Future sight – while self-explanatory, it's important to note that Haewon's dreams and visions solely foresee an undefined cataclysmic event (which is due to occur in her original timeline). She does have a more general sense and can technically predict smaller events of the same nature, though it's never precise enough for her to warn anyone about it. Typically, the event happens and then she realizes that she had been warned about it.

Non-magical Powers:

She's good at running. That's about it. Oh, you could always count music as a skill, rather than 'power' obviously.

Weaknesses:

Being human, she is susceptible to all sorts of illness and injury.

♚ // Character ; The Student

Study Style: She's a dedicated never-miss-a-deadline type of student. She may, however, slack off occasionally Favorite class: Music II Least favorite class: Defence against darkspawn (she views it as necessary, but incredibly difficult)

classes (5-8) :

Defence against darkspawn

Italian

Ancient Runes

Psychology

Human and Earth History

Music II

Clubs: Debate and Culinary

 ♚ // Character ; The Past

Date of Birth: May 10th 2038 Date of Death: technically recorded as June 8th 2050 in her original timeline (this is when the search for her had officially been stopped) Crime Record: None

Has your character attended Insolitus Academy in the past? No Background:

An only child, she was raised sheltered by her doting father who spent the next years of his life working tirelessly to provide Haewon the life he and Jihye would have wanted her to have. She was enrolled in best schools; when she expressed a desire to play the piano, she was promptly enrolled in a music school where she excelled and became her school's most promising pupil, with scholarships suggested to her years in advance. However, underneath the surface of the diligent student and caring daughter lay a dark and tormented girl, plagued by nightmares and daytime visions that neither her father, she herself or the best doctors in the country could explain. Owing to the intensity of her visions, Haewon was poorly often throughout her childhood, and the frequent cases of anemia, symptoms similar to a flu or to various deficiencies hindered her abilities to socialize, make friends or even have plans and ambitions for the future.

At the age of thirteen, she was finally diagnosed as the first case of an autoimmune disease, named after the doctor who had been monitoring her ever since her first visions began. Titled the “Namgung Immuno-Suppressive Disorder” or NISD for short, it along with Haewon became the subject of many medical and genetic studies as doctors from all over Korea and East Asia flooded to try and find its cause and any form of treatment.

Haewon became weary of the doctor's visits by high school and pleaded with her father to withdraw her from the studies to which he reluctantly agreed. Upon graduating high school, Haewon, an already well-known piano player, enrolled in Hanyang University’s Department of Piano and just for a short couple of years thought she finally had her life together. However, her night terrors continued after she learned the truth behind her mother’s death: her father, encouraged by a night’s drinking, confessed to Haewon that her mother too had the same disorder ever since she was a high school student, and that Jihye had killed herself that night because she could no longer take the pain and the horror her nightmares were giving her. Haewon’s own terrors peaked during her master degree, when Haewon was only 22 years old. The last vision, portraying an apocalyptic event of her timeline, was so horrific that she felt she could not take any more messages from the beyond. After lying to her father about a rehearsal at the campus, she bid farewell to her home and travelled to Wonhyo Bridge from where she threw herself into the Han River, hoping to find peace beyond.

When she woke up, the walls around her were so pristine white that she thought she might go blind. And the sounds, the sounds were unpleasant: at first, they were muffled as if there was something in or over her ears but then slowly, after a painful but thankfully short episode of tinnitus, the voices turned into a higher pitch, mesmerized and shocked at the same time. “Miss, miss,” they were calling out to her. She saw shadows at first, uncertain whether they were male or female, standing in front of her, and one of them seemed to be holding an item. A pen? No, it was not a pen, there was some kind of light at the tip of it and the light hurt her eyes so she tried to hold them but someone’s fingers promptly forced her eyelids open and then exposed her sensitive eyes to the light again - left and right, right and left, asking her to...Follow it? “Miss, miss…” Was she dead? Was she in Heaven, or Hell?  This place was neither Heaven, nor Hell, and soon enough she learned what it was: it was a hospital. And the people were neither angels nor demons, but two doctors, a nurse, and two of her hospital room patients - both women, both in their mid to late forties - hovering around her in wonder. She had finally woken up, she was eventually told - after being found last December, she had woken up ten months later. Fifth of October two thousand and eighteen. The words made no sense to Haewon.

She would soon realize that she had been brought to a completely new reality against her will, one in which she was never to exist. A reality that would have never known her had there not been for some unknown, capricious force which had flicked her into this new world, and she had to accept that 2057 and ‘58 had to remain as years left only to her imagination and melancholic memories. Uncertain why such a bizarre event would take place, and horrified at her new surroundings, Haewon faked amnesia to her doctors, claiming she had no recollection of who she was or where she had come from.  She was provided with new documents and she chose the name “Haewon”, secretly hoping to keep her real name, and accepting a new family name Lee. Some years later, when the world of the supernatural revealed itself to her, Haewon came upon an information of a specific school, an Academy for 'others'. Not others of her kind, but others of all sorts of kinds and determined to find answers there, Haewon enrolled at Insolitus Academy, filled with apprehension and hope.

♚ // Roleplayer [ optional ]

Time zone: GMT-6

OOC! Triggers: Technically none.

Themes/genres you like writing the most?: Angst, horror, action, adventure, fantasy

[thepaperpanda]

Sky Full Of Shooting Stars | Part I

PART II

Summary: You work for First Order and happen to be in a secret relationship with General Hux himself. When you find out some certain thing about your beloved man, you start to be seriously afraid of his life, and your own as well. Trying to come up with a backup plan, you show him all of affection and love he can get from you. Will the two of you survive the upcoming events?

Warnings: smut, tros spoiler

Words: 4006

Authors: Cass & Rouge

Soft, plate glass of long, metal table at which they sat shone in a light derived of a glowing sticks hanging under the ceiling.

 Atmosphere was thick like a mist that could be cut with a sharp blade of knife.

 Kylo Ren stood on the head of the table, his back facing all the people gathered in the room.

 Hux cleared his throat a little and looked around the room, his eyes landed on you. He sent you a little smile, just a brief curl of his narrow lips, and soon his glance moved to General Pryde. Hux sent him a frown. Hux's eyes were initially glued to your figure.

Behind the mask of always serious Hux's facade there was a pure panic rising in his guts. He knew that the information about the Resistance's spy among First Order was finally out but thanks to the force the identity of the said individual wasn't revealed yet.

 The drilling glance of Pryde on Hux's face didn't help much in calming his nerves but those emotions were still under some kind of control of his. General Pryde was a real threat to Hux since Ren's accession to Supreme Leader.

 "There's a spy among us," Ren roared. His voice was distorted by voice modulator from his mask. After these words Kylo threw the head of an alien who aided Resistance communicate with the aforesaid spy. "Me and Knights of Ren are going to hunt the scavenger down. And you better do fucking everything to find the traitor and cut their head off," Kylo snapped and left the room.

 You swallowed hardly and shifted a little in your place which was instantly sighted by Pryde.

"What are you all waiting for?! Back to work!," Gray-haired man shouted and got up.

 "You could keep your voice leveled, Pryde," ginger-haired general muttered getting up from his chair. "You aren't the only one here. Y/N, please with me. We still have the stuff to finish."

 Armitage made sure to pull you out from the range of other generals. Despite you being part of First Order, Hux hated to see you near anyone else but him.

 You were walking along the wide corridor of the Ren's Star Destroyer. A desperate willingness to hug to Hux almost won with you but you stopped your inner needs when you spotted a group of stormtroopers walking right onto you from opposite side of the ship.

 "General Hux," you referred to him formally enough to sound like a professional, "I'm afraid I'll have to excuse you though Allegiant General wants me on the bridge," your voice almost died down as soon as stormtroopers greeted both of you and passed you by.

 "Deputy Y/L/N, I don't care what Allegiant General wants from you. Right now I require your help," he said with a frown and he growled at stormtroopers as they passed by.

 Now, while being away from all other First Order scums he felt much calmer and safer but the fear was still settled deep down in his guts.

 After making sure the corridor was completely clear, he leaned closer towards you.

"I beg you, Y/N. Just stay with me."

 Your eyes were focused on his.

"You know it's impossible now," your voice was nothing more but a whisper. "If I won't comply, he'll shoot me without blink of an eye," you explained shortly and straightened your black shirt. "I can meet you in you chamber at night. You better get away from their sight now."

 Your hand was placed on his shoulder where you gently squeezed.

 Armitage didn't want to let you go, he was afraid to do so.

 Hux was apprehensive of his and your life, yours was the most important to him. While his life was miserable since the day he was born and there was no time nor chance for any type of redemption for him, you never did anything bad to deserve the faith that might have encountered you just because of being with him.

 In a desperate move, Hux cupped your cheeks and pulled you into a brief kiss. It was as gentle as touch of wings of a butterfly.

"Just come back here, to me, do you understand, deputy Y/L/N?"

 Hux watched you leave, his mind was racing in a frantic ways as he tried to somehow come up with an idea to save your life at least but to do so he would probably need some kind of miracle.

 Reluctantly Armitage turned on his hill to walk away as well, yet this short moment of calmness was quickly broken by the sight of Pryde's face.

Hux only wanted to return to his chamber at that time.

 "General Hux," older man snapped viciously with a mischievous grin dancing in corners of his lips. "Why are you stopping my officer while she has a lot of things to perform yet?," Pryde asked lowering his voice and coming closer to Hux.

 Hux forced himself to straighten his back, making sure to look as cold and unshaken as always, even if deep inside he literally was whimpering and begging for all of this to end.

 "As far as I know, she isn't yours, Pryde," Armitage answered with his usual voice. "I keep my guard over her since she joined, so please, stop usurp control over mine units."

 Pryde's devious eyes seemed to penetrate Hux's soul through-and-through.

"Don't play with me, you fucking dirtbag. You're nothing like your father, he'd be ashamed of who you've become. I know more than you think, I'm a good observer," he whispered right into Armitage's ear when he stopped next to him. "And that pathetic slut, running around and answering to every call of yours? You think I'm blind? She's only useful when she's on her knees, isn't she?," He laughed darkly.

 "If my poor scumbag of a father knew what or rather who helped his life come to the end, he would be more proud than ever before," Hux muttered looking at the older man. "And this slut, as you called her, is more useful around here than you ever have through your whole carrier."

Hux smiled at another man, improving gloves on his pale hands. "I have my ways, Pryde, so call Deputy Y/L/N a slut again and I will gladly watch how your body dissolve in bacta tank just like old Brendol did. Hope I made myself clear."

 "We'll see so soon who is gonna last longer," Pryde smirked Hux's words off and passed him by only to stop few steps further. "Remember, Hux, I keep my eyes on you."

 After these words man left to bridge, leaving Armitage alone on the corridor.

 -------------------

 The rest of the day was too hard for Hux. He shuffled into his room earlier than ever, happy like never before.

 The chamber gave him a lot of comfort as it was the only private place at the ship and this was what he needed after a day full of pretending.

 Dropping off he heavy coat he marched slowly to take a shower.

The whole process always was calming his nerves down and helping him relax, the simple sensation of the water running down his tensed back was a blessing.

 After that, he walked to the bed, dressed only in the towel and flopped on it, comply exhausted from the troubles of the day and life in general.

 Armitage got himself comfortable and checked the hour, looking at the time already made the feeling of excitement settled in his stomach.

 Hux always looked forward to your arrival, it was a moment worth going through the whole mess called First Order.

 Hour later, in the middle of the night, the door to his chamber opened.

 You stepped in being clearly exhausted but you managed to sent him a soft smile.

You grinned wider when Millicent jumped off the shelf to rub her sides against your leather boots.

 A soft smile played on Armitage's lips while he watched the scene, he was often imagining something like this to himself, he was projecting another version of your common life, just not in such an awful place.

 "She isn't the only one that is happy to see you, love," he said softly, sitting up on the bed properly, just the view of your body made him all warm inside.

 Taking black blazer off you let out a hum.

"Your face is shouting about rough day so I think not only mine was fucking awful," you stated and crouched to scratch Millicent's ear.

 "Every day is a rough since the one I was born, Y/N," Armitage said, getting up from the bed.

 He walked to you, wearing nothing more but a pair of black boxers. When he got close enough, his hands wrapped around your waist and he pulled you closer to himself.

"My life is full of endless pain and suffer but there is a little ray of hope and happiness that shines in my bed every night," Armitage said, looking right into your eyes.

 As soon as you climbed on your tiptoes, you placed a gentle kiss to his jaw.

"Ruthless general in the streets, sweet, charming man in the sheets, aren't you?," You teased him wrapping arms around his neck and brushing your cheek against his. "I missed you so much. Pryde was talking to Ren as soon as he came back. Apparently it wasn't anything good, and I'm being afraid constantly, about you..."

 Armitage purred and nuzzled to you, he never wanted to let you go. His arms tightened around you as he kept you close.

"Of course he did, I am getting more and more worried about you, love. Your safety is important to me," Hux said as he ignored your words, his hand traveled to your cheek. "Let's just...," Hux stopped for a moment looking at you. "Let's get to bed, it's late and I really need you, Y/N."

 "Oh, do you? Is my general in a need?," You whispered softly as your hand traveled to his nape where you gently scratched his skin with nails.

 "Please, don't joke around, Y/N. Not tonight," his voice was a quiet beg.

Soon he pulled you into a kiss full of all the wild emotions filling his soul.

 As two of you were kissing, your hand traveled down to his lower back only to move on his crotch where you stroked him through material of his boxers.

 Hux simply purred loudly into the kiss, despite his fragile-looking body he picked you up easily and walked back to bed with you.

 Placing you gently on the mattress, he towered over you and pulled away.

"I have no idea what I did to deserve you," Armitage hummed as his kisses moved to your neck and shoulder, they quickly changed into little bites.

 Unbuttoning your shirt, you sent him a grin and let out a moan as he played with you.

"You've trained me and seduced me, I might be mistaken with order," you chuckled softly watching his actions.

 Your free hand slipped inside of his boxers where he grabbed his half-erected cock and pumped it few times.

 Armitage growled and bit your neck particularly hard to make sure you won't forget it, then he looked at you.

"I asked you something, didn't I? I am really not in the mood for your jokes, love," he said with a frown, removing your hand from his boxers, he started to place kisses down your chest and stomach.

 You bit your lower lip as you observed him.

 Truth was that being with him wasn't easy, him being a jerk most of times wasn't helping as well but somehow you managed to get along with Hux and vice versa. And you couldn't lie to yourself, his coldness and imperviousness were turning you on.

 Hux quickly undressed lower part of your body and dove between your legs, placing them on his shoulders.

His moves slowed, his skilled tongue circled your clit. Armitage wasted no time and soon three of his long, slender fingers slipped inside of you while he continued insult on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

 Your back arched and head rolled back when you let out a loud moan of pleasure. Slipping hands into his ginger hair, you tugged on them lightly trying to pull his face even closer to your pussy.

"Keep going and you'll make me cum here and now," you warned with a loud gasp.

 He hummed against your clit, sending you some vibrations.

"That's the whole point, don't you think, love?," Armitage looked at you briefly before returning to his work, his fingers started to move in and out faster, reaching deeper and deeper with every thrust.

 With shaking hand you grasped the dating sheets of his bed, your other hand tightened the grasp on his hair.

"Fuck me," you begged openly.

 "You didn't listen to me when I asked you not to joke. So, now? You will lie here until you cum," he told you briefly, never stopping the movement of his fingers.

 Feeling the extending sensation on your abdomen, you rolled head back and moaned.

His name was the only thing to escape your parted lips as you rolled hips for more friction.

 Soon, Hux could feel how your inner walls clenched around his fingers and your glistening juices started to flow out of your core, covering his fingertips.

 "Now, you see? It wasn't so hard, love," Hux grinned and sat up, licking his fingers clean. "On your belly, ass up," Armitage ordered and got up from bed to remove his boxers.

 Blush hit your cheeks out of sudden, you wasn't expecting this of him.

 Armitage was a type of a man who loved to be in charge and you'd do whatever it takes to make your man happy.

 You rolled on your belly and stack your butt up for him, shaking it a little.

"Fuck me, general. I was dreaming about you for entire fucking day!," You encouraged as you grabbed his pillow to rest your breasts and head on it.

 Armitage looked at you, lighting up a cigarette. He smacked your ass and released a cloud of smoke through his nose.

"I don't know, you were a real brat today, love," he muttered, yet his hand traveled to his cock to stroke himself as he watched your naked body.

 You rolled on our back and grimaced angrily as your glance slipped to his unleashed cock. Licking your lips you glared up at man.

"General, your day was tough, so let your deputy help you relax properly. Shall I remind you how tight and wet this pussy is, and all this just for you?," You rolled on your belly again, shaking your butt again.

 "Still, you were a fucking brat," man muttered before finishing his cigarette. Armitage joined you on the bed then. "And I hate when people disobey, Y/N."

Hux grabbed your hips and suddenly pushed his hard cock deep inside of you, he started with a brutal pace, giving you zero time to adjust to him.

 You thanked Force that you were laying on his soft pillow that muffled the loud scream which escaped your lips.

 It was delicious feeling, burning pain mixed with raging desire. Your pussy indeed was still tight, even after all those nights you had spent with Hux in his chamber.

 Hux grabbed your hair to pull your head back.

"Oh no, you are so smart and brave, so you will let the whole place hear you," Armitage ordered wrapping your hair tightly around his fist to make your head stay in the place.

Hux didn't slow down even a little.

"Come on, not so funny anyome, huh? Better move this pretty hand and rub yourself before I break your wrist."

 You licked your lips and moaned loudly. Hux's name rolled out of your lips few times before you licked two of your fingers. Your hand slipped between your parted thighs and you rubbed your clitoris viciously. Sensation was almost unbearable so you gasped with relief as you felt how wet you got for him.

"Just like this, oh fuck!," You grunted in high voice and these words were followed by another moan.

 Armitage growled, making sure to thrust as deep as it was only possible.

"Now be a good girl for fucking once and cum for me," he stated right into your ear, pulling on your hair even harder.

 You used all of your strength to get on your knees and roll your hips for him, allowing his shaft to penetrate your tight pussy as much as he wanted.

You reached one hand back to wrap it around general's neck, and other grabbed his hand that was placed on your hip and moved it right between your thighs.

 General smiled and kissed your arm.

Not so long after his moves became sloppy and man slowed his pace down just a little.

Meantime, his fingers were rubbing over your swollen clitoris as he started to kissing your neck in attempt of searching over your pulse point.

"You see what you're doing to me, now I am going to fill you up, love," he growled loudly and did as he said. His hips stuttered and man filled you up to the brim with his warm, thick cum.

 You bit inside of your cheek as you felt his full lips brushing over your heated skin.

 Loud scream mixed with moan left your parted lips as you rolled head back, resting it over his chest.

 When you felt how his cock started throbbing, almost in the same time your pussy started to clench spasmodically, rhythmically, triggering his cum. As soon as he shot his load in your heated core, your release overwhelmed your body and you trembled all over your features as your cums mixed within your pussy.

"Oh, Gosh," you mumbled with shaking voice.

 Hux chuckled and kissed your cheek.

"You see? For once you were indeed a good girl," man praised and sighed, slowly pulling his flopped cock out of you. Rubbing his face, Hux lied down.

 You gasped sadly at the emptiness in your still heated core and quickly joined him, placing your head on his chest, kissing wherever you could reach.

 Hux sighed softly and looked at the ceiling, his hand gently played with your hair to massage your scalp after pulling on your hair. He didn't say a word, after some time of calmness the dark thoughts returned back to him.

 "Have you ever thought about let go of all this?," You whispered, enjoying his touch. "I wish we could just... Escape."

 Armitage only shook his head.

"This is a ridiculous idea, Y/N. Time to sleep," he said and looked at you. "There is no escape."

 You frowned at his words and tilted head to look him in the eyes. "What do you mean, no escape? It's easier than you think. And it's what we should have done months ago," you said.

 He chuckled.

"If it was so simple then why have I spent my whole life on here, being buried in this shit? Huh?," Hux snapped. "If it would be so easy I would have left earlier."

 He was right partially and you knew it deep inside yet didn't want to admit it.

Placing head back on his bare chest, you listened to his heartbeat for a while.

"I won't die here...," You whispered as cold shiver ran down your spine.

 He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and kissed your forehead.

"You won't die, I will make sure to pull you out of here before they realize I am the spy," Hux whispered, rubbing your arm.

 You listened to him trying your best to calm yourself down.

"I am not going anywhere without you, Armitage," you stated firmly and sat up, covering yourself with his dating sheets. "You think I'll leave you for certain death? Never," you growled deeply, your hands clenched into fists. "I wouldn't be as brave as you are to spy First Order for Resistance. You're doing a good thing," you placed your palm on his shoulder and stroked him there. "If rumours are real and Palpatine is alive... He'll kill everyone as soon as he won't need us to fulfill his homicidal plan anymore. So none of us will walk out of this alive in the end..."

 "You are more important than I am, Y/N! Do you like it or not, I'll make sure that you are gone from here before storm will come!," He snapped at you loudly.

"And sadly rumors are true, Y/N," Armitage added.

 His tone brought tears into your eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere without the only person that keeps me alive through all that madness," you said openly as you got up from his bed and started dressing up. "If they'll find out about you, they'll kill you without blink of an eye, especially Ren or Pryde. And I won't be looking at this idly by."

 "You don't have to leave," Hux said like he wouldn't listen to the words you just said, his eyes never left your body. "Stay here tonight."

 "Did you listen to me?," You asked seriously and looked at him as you buttoned your shirt. "I'm not going to sit here, doing nothing, wasting time that we are already lacking," you told him and walked back to his bed to sit on the edge. "Please. Let's run away together. Before they'll realize what happened, we'll be safe at Resistance hideout."

 "Did you listen to me?," Hux asked you the same question, looking into your eyes. "There is no hope, if you want then run. For me there is no hope left."

 "Why are you like this? Why are you giving up so easily?!," You raised your voice as tears rolled down your cheeks.

 "I am not giving up, love. I am a realist, whatever will happen to me, it's already written somewhere above. Running away from it won't change anything," he shrugged.

 You didn't comment on his words, instead you got up and walked to the door. "I'm going to find access key to one of the Fighters," you informed him. "I'm not going to let them catch you."

 Millicent who was laying on the floor under general's bed got up and lazily stretched her back. Purring loudly she walked to you and rubbed herself against your legs once again.

 Armitage sighed deeply and said nothing, shaking his head gently.

 You gently pushed cat aside, then you left his chamber.

 Armitage watched you leaving his room.

He never wanted to make you cry, this never was his plan. All he has wanted was to make sure you were safe and happy, with or without him.

 Armitage knew that there was no hope for him and the fact you didn't accept it made him angry.

 "Fucking cunt!," He roared and pushed few books that were placed in his desk aside so they fell on the floor with rumble.

 Hux demolished his whole room, throwing and breaking every possible thing.

 Finally, when the anger vanished almost fully, he sank down to his knees watching the whole mess he made.

 Millicent who hid under his bed, joined him when he calmed down. Orange kitten simply meowed and patted Hux's leg with her little paw.

 General sat on the floor and took cat on his lap, he rubbed her under chin.

"What have I done, Millie? Why did I let her go? She's too young, too innocent...," Armitage whispered feeling like his heart was pounding hardly inside his chest.

 Cat looked up at him with its big eyes and meowed again like she would be judging his passivity but soon cat closed its eyes and rolled in a ball on his owner's lap.

 Hux let out a sigh and rubbed his temple.

I'll talk to her at morning, he promised to himself.

And we'll create a plan. Who's the meanest dick in the galaxy after all?! And I won't let Ren win.

Ever.

Pandies🐼: @imidarogerson @grossograsso @thewildgardensstuff @leven-and-ashley @la-verdura @bearded-steve-rogers @sebbystan-plantlover @atuckyismylife @krispyjellyfishzombie @personality-within @haseki-huricihan  @choppedgardenwhispers @vroobelek @lattimelka @chris-beamz @hidden-secrets69 @purepearls @volcanoxxx @kastrup-sofie @mikkal-akasaki @withoutashadowofhope @radbluebirdeagle @marvel-fan-site @smutloversblog @buquete @super-psycho-love69 @tanglesss @peter-sommer @baysidewest @vegemania @philip-stan @chodiusmmm @subwaystunnel @tykorclint @dagger-dragger @kurant @nothing-can-least-forever @oxfordkipem @deliciousbouquet90 @tuptuptup @hellenna80 @karina-marina9 @latimeriaaa @bratko @wurld89 @scott-evans @kiss-me-rouge @ovonel-espaniol @dancing-tacco @ratugadhi @white-tiger-shangrila  @axn69 @eternal-life-awaits @mrs-laura-harmon @artsy-inside @gleeeeees​  @darkllaama @jatut @agawux @fuzzy-tigrrr @jrjohnsson2 @maaargoshaaa​ @dontgetmewrongman​ @einexx​ @nwmtagsb @anini71​ @secretlygrantaire​ @kyloren-supreme-ben​ @infinity-stones-seeker​ @thehappyspider​ @wings4life​ @huxyluxy​ @dontbeafraidchild​ @misafiryanki​ @electronicpatrolcollective​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @aulika​ @hidden-secrets69​ @a-happy-wolf​ @creative-seahorse​ @biologyforliving​

[mimik-u]

8 Favorite Works of the Year

Thank you for the tag, @novantinuum! Please go check out the works they’ve listed as their favorites from the year—they’re such a brilliant artist and writer, omg.

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 8 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome work! 

This list really isn’t in order, lol, and it probably isn’t entirely accurate because between Facets and Fragments II, I’ve written over 200 drabbles this year, and I was too lazy to go through them all to sift out my favorites hiohioahdf.

Flower Child, Chapter 13 — “Blue (III)”: It’s always hard to pick up a fic after abandoning it for, like, a year and a half, lmao, but somehow, someway, I was able to write this chapter of Flower Child in July, thus re-starting my journey to finish this beautiful, long, and crazy ass project. I’m proud of this chapter simply because it represents a new beginning, but also, because I feel like I was able to flesh out my human iteration of Blue Diamond in a deeper way than I was able to accomplish when I was first writing this fic as a teen. And for that growth, I’m so thankful. 

Flower Child, Chapter 16 — “Yellow (II)”: This chapter gets a spot on the list because I genuinely think it might be the most complex of the lot—at the very least, it’s definitely the longest, clocking in somewhere at 16,000 words. I knew I had a lot to juggle in this one—from contextualizing Yellow’s past, letting her meet Steven, and fleshing out White Diamond in a rounded way since Yellow’s relationship with her colored a lot of the emotions in this chapter. I think I just about pulled it off because I legit cried while writing it hioafhiohdfio, and I never tend to do that with my own fics.

Multitudes: “Multitudes” is the first Bellow one-shot I did after returning from my hiatus, and it’s one that I’m really proud of. At a surface level, it’s about Blue and Yellow navigating the 6,242nd anniversary of Pink’s shattering after the events of CYM. Underneath, it’s about grieving and moving on and how really, you can do those things simultaneously because emotions come in multitudes.

Facets, Ch. 145 — “Face”: “Facets” as a whole is the 100-word drabble series I’ve written to accompany my re-watch of SU and my first time watch of Future! “Face” is my piece for “A Single Pale Rose.” Of course, I like all the drabbles that I write, but I would be the first to argue that there are definitely some that are more inspired than others, and “Face” feels like one of them. I think it’s the diction—it feels a bit more complex and nuanced than some pieces.

Facets, Ch. 175 — “Carnage”: “Carnage” was written for “Prickly Pair.” I just really like the angst in this one hiohdisaohfio, and how it effectively communicates the isolationist nature of Steven’s coping mechanisms.

Facets, Ch. 148 — “Punchline”: “Punchline” accompanies “The Question.” It’ll always be a fave of mine because I’m proud of the language here. I think I really leaned into the poetic cadence of my style here.

Facets, Ch. 169 — “Things”: “Things” was written for “Volleyball,” and what I like about this one is that there are so many emotions being explored at once: the newfound togetherness of Pearl and Volley, Steven’s utter loneliness, and the three of them together grappling with Pink Diamond. “Volleyball” was an episode that made me think, and I think the drabble for it reflects that.

Facets, Ch. 152 — “Communion”: I could never resist writing about the Diamonds when they cropped up in an episode, and so “Communion” was written for “Legs from Here to Homeworld.” As a Diamond fan, I’m always interested in the tensions between Blue and Yellow, and how they often work alongside their intimacies, and this particular piece explores them talking telepathically to each other in the first time in a long while.

Tagging: @runrundoyourstuff, @a-big-apple, @softasawhisper, @sokindofyoutojoinme, @reikiajakoiranruohoja, @dogcopter, @cloudyskiesandfireflies