#RONAN WAS HIS WEAKNESS AND HE NOT GIVEN UP

[parrishands]

"He tried each night he was alone in the apartment over St. Agnes, and he failed every time he saw Ronan again. He was in love with Ronan, and he was in love with this lonesome green valley, and although he could not work out how either dovetailed with his addiction to the future, for the summer, he put his reservations away. He just lived with Ronan the moment instead."

[corpsebasil]

knight nikolai and his princess again ladies and gents

oh god im sorry for this one in advance

tw// mc death; unaliving references but not explicit

You were so angry it physically hurt to breathe. You'd sat alone with your knees pulled to your chest, hugging yourself, outside for hours, glaring darkly out at the lake on palace grounds while trying to think of nothing. Trying not to think of—no. No, don't think. Don't.

You squeezed your eyes shut until pinpricks formed in the darkness. After what had happened you’d ran almost a mile into the woods before dropping to your hands and knees and screaming so loud you were afraid your vocal chords would break. You'd had another scream burning inside your stomach ever since–ever since—

"Your Highness?" The familiar sound of the knight's voice instantly broke chills out on your skin, your muscles tense as a wire. You didn't look at him as he sat beside you awkwardly on the grass, but the tension was high enough to make you grit your teeth. The fact that he even had the nerve to speak to you was insane. Sir Ronan. That bastard. "I um, I brought you some of his things."

Your eyes slid so slowly to his that his body was as tense as your own when you looked at him. The dark-haired knight swallowed and passed over a small box of random items. You held his gaze for one more lethal moment before peering inside. You could've wretched.

It was all there—the majority of his meager possessions. A ring he always wore on a necklace during crusades; the handkerchief you'd given him as a token to carry during the annual joust and sword-fighting competitions; his favorite book. You sucked in a sharp breath and looked up, your hand pausing on a white-linen shirt in the box. Your fingertips lingered on the fabric; even from there you could still smell the trace scents of his cologne.

"I'm sorry for your loss, princess—" Ronan began but, before he could finish the horrible sentence, your hand flashed out and struck him so hard across the face your palm stung.

He lurched to the side from the blow, eyes wide when he met your own.

"You're a liar." You seethed and he flinched. "You're a liar and a gods-damned traitor and I hate you. It should be you that's dead!"

His face flushed and he nodded, expression pained.

"I tried to stop it, but—I mean, this morning I—”

"You think if I couldn't have stopped it then you could have? I'm the fucking princess of Ravka."

"Your highness please, he–he was covering for me, he—Saints, I'd fucked up and I couldn't stop him from—”

"Get away from me."

"Princess—”

"Get away. Nikolai is dead. He's dead and it's your fucking fault get away from me!"

You could've stabbed him and Ronan would've felt better. Like the coward that he was his own eyes filled with tears in the face of your fury. He stood and left, leaving you alone to press Sir Nikolai's shirt to your face, the fabric muffling the loud, horrible sobs that left your broken body.

-

That morning was when it had happened. You'd been woken in a rush by a flurry of distraught handmaidens, their expressions weak and agonized. One was even crying and, when they helped you get dressed, you were too afraid to ask why.

You’d found out exactly why when you were escorted outside by two strange knights that were familiar but not on a name-to-name basis. You leaned towards one of your ladies to ask, "Where's Sir Nikolai?", but she only shook her head, a strangled noise leaving her mouth before she excused herself.

After that you were mute, only able to walk in petrified silence as your mind dredged up every possible reason why he was absent. You hadn't seen him for a week since he'd left on a mission but he'd greeted you briefly last night, saying he had a meeting. But not before covering your face in kisses, offering you the chocolates he'd brought back, and then worshipping every inch of your body until you felt light-headed.

wait author's note I need a break I'm hurting myself rn

"I love you." He'd whispered before he left, pressing a soft, heavenly kiss to your mouth. His brow was furrowed as if in concentration, his hands framing your face."I'll always love you, my princess. Always."

Now as you stepped outside every possible scenario left your brain in an instant. You sucked in a breath that sounded like a yelp before you raced forward.

The knights weren't fast enough to grab you in time before you were hurtling towards the raised wooden platform in the square. The platform only used for public executions. The platform where Sir Nikolai stood, hands tied, his expression stoic as he stared ahead. But when he caught sight of you streaking through the forming crowd his expression turned stricken.

'No.' He mouthed at you, shaking his head. His eyes were pleading; he wanted to be strong in these last moments if he could. He couldn't bear to see your face. 'No, princess.'

"No!" You practically shrieked back, then gasped when a strong arm looped around your middle and held you back from running up the platform. If you could just get to him, if you could just get to him then—

"Your Highness, stop." A rough male voice intoned and you sagged; Sir Dominik. Nikolai's right-hand man and closest friend. "Let him have his dignity."

"Damn his dignity—Nikolai!" But now people in the crowd were murmuring in confusion and shock; why was the princess screaming for this knight to be spared? "Dominik, please, what's—?"

"I'll explain later. Right now," his voice was near silent as he held you, back against his chest, more of a straitjacket than a comfort. "now, you need to just—just compose yourself. Nothing can be done." When you started to babble in protest again he squeezed you tighter. “Nothing.”

You were crying so fast and hard it was difficult to see, but you could see the executioner as he approached the platform. Nikolai visibly tensed, his throat bobbing on a deep swallow as the noose was brought. You barely suppressed a wail of grief when the executioner read off the charges: treason, murder, and insubordination. You couldn't believe it. This wasn't real.

But when the drumroll began you felt wild; you stared at Nikolai, chest heaving, as he blinked three times at you in rapid succession. 'I love you.' It was code for when you couldn't say it in public. Always three: three taps on the shoulder, out of sight. Three squeezes of the hand if he could sneak it. The gesture was so agonizing to witness that you barely managed to blink back before Dominik suddenly twisted you hard, the both of you whirling to face the opposite direction.

He wasn’t going to let you watch.

Your cry of shock and terror could not be heard over the drop of the trapdoor.

-

That was what had led to now. Allegedly, during combat, a few innocents had been killed in the confusion. They hadn't been told to take the route they had, but the knights complained of being hungry and tired so Sir Nikolai had relented. And when Sir Ronan, the newest recruit, had fucked up by misfiring, he knew that his life was forfeit. Killing Ravkans wasn't excusable. He'd babbled and panicked and finally, finally, Nikolai had grabbed him by the shoulders and told him to shut up. Just shut up. The boy was only eighteen, for Saint's sakes. He had to calm him down.

"During the meeting last night,” Dominik told you in a very hushed voice. "there was confusion on who had misfired. Every knight was asked but the general consensus was that it was either Nikolai or, most likely, Ronan. Everyone knows Nikolai's aim is flawless. But Ronan couldn't speak up, the bloody coward." Dominik shook his head angrily. "I could kill him. He didn't speak up so Nik stepped forward, damn him."

Dominik stood and began to pace around your room while you watched from the floor, back against the foot of your bed. It felt like the ground was opening up beneath you. He paused and, taking a deep, shaky breath, clenched his hands into fists before continuing.

"Nik said it was—” Dominik's voice cracked and your heart broke further. "he said it was him. That he'd take full responsibility and understood the punishment he—” Dominik ran a hand over his eyes. "I'm supposed to be Captain, now. I don't even bloody want the position. Not like this."

You licked your lips and opened your mouth but nothing came out. There were no words left. No air left in the world. When you let out a whimper, then a gasping sob, Dominik raced over and crouched beside you, tugging you into his arms.

"He loved you." Dominik whispered quietly, rocking you back and forth. "I promise he did. He's waiting for you up there, you know?"

You pulled away and looked at him slowly, then forced a small, blank smile.

im sorry but for next bit. all I can think of is that painting of Ophelia.

The next morning at dawn, Dominik found you. He found you laying on the shore of the lake, soaking wet, your skin pale and lips blue. He let out a cry and tugged you up against his chest, his tremendous grief on losing Nikolai now doubled by the loss of you, too.

oops

[smiles-ocs]

Some concepts and ideas for Castor and Ronan’s story called Starchild. Some of these are… hard to get to drawing, specifically Ronan’s younger siblings, might redesign them, but they’re all very young. Ronan left to join a crew so he could make money for them while his parents physically can’t work, and he made sure that his 12-year-old brother is very helpful. Then some random character ideas. A first mate on Castor’s pirate crew, two important characters named Rigel and Esther, castor as a young boy, and random scene ideas I have.

There’s a lot of crap I’m rambling about under the cut so go there if you want to know more about the characters, lore, and spoilers

I also have an idea of a deity or something of the sorts. It’s bascially a “Star God”, something with incredible power that was given to them from the heavens, and it is responsible for the starchildren that have shown up around the world, hence why this series is called Starchild. The whole thing around the Star God is a mystery, but people do know it exists thanks to the star children. This is a little dark but some explanation on Starchildren:

Starchildren are born every few hundred years or so, it’s unknown how often a starchild is born, but people believe that starchildren are the star god’s children, and that when they reach a certain age, they are sacrificed to deal with all the problems the world is having. They believe that if a starchild is not sacrificed, demons from hell will arrive to destroy the world. I hinted at this on my last post, but starchildren turn into strange creatures, the main one being the Leviathan. There’s also the Kraken and the other one who’s name is so complicated I’m not even going to bother with it dhskdbsk.

Long story short, the whole thing is a lie. Starchildren have incredible power when they become adults and are “awakened” as Starchildren. They remember the person that gave them that power (the Star God) and their purpose, which is watching over the people. However, centuries ago, someone in high power believed that Star children were too powerful, and out of fear, he came up with an excuse to kill starchildren before they grew too powerful, because no one should be more powerful than him. So they killed starchildren when they were young and weak, hiding behind the excuse of it being a sacrifice to the world or something, using the blood to cleanse the world and keep the demons at bay. That way, if the starchildren escape, and inevitably take on the role of “deities”, people will believe that the demons have arrived to punish them for failing, and will try to kill the awakened starchildren.

Starchildren cannot escape their fate, however, because they cannot hide unless they are far away from people. They have blue hair that shines in the darkest fog, blue hair that cannot be hidden, and a star birthmark somewhere.

I suppose there’s no reason to hide this now, but Castor is the starchild of this era, originally called Orion, but he changed his name for safety. He ran away when he learned that he was going to die, trying to escape on a boat. The people almost caught him, but the kraken appeared, seemingly saving his life. As Castor tried to hide from people, he tried to hide his blue hair, but it constantly shines through whatever he hid it in. The best he could do was to wrap it up and put a thick hat on, which helped, but even so, you can see in his wrapping the blue hair. He tried to dye it, hide it in mud, even shaving it, but the blue cannot be covered up, so hiding in plain sight was nearly impossible to him. He left to sea to avoid people, but accidentally became captain of the pirate crew. He’s a very jaded man who is intimidating and skilled in sword fighting. People respect him as a captain, so he is in high status on his ship (obviously 💀). Problem is, there is a very, VERY high bounty on the star child’s head, so even the most loyal crew members may turn on him if he is found out.

Castor trusts no one, but he seems to have a soft spot for Ronan for some reason. Even when he eventually finds out that he is the starchild, he can’t bring himself to kill him. He’s just a boy…

Obviously, Esther and Rigel are starchildren as well. Rigel is an ancient starchild, who lived a good life before the starchildren sacrifices. He roams the ocean, punishing anyone who threatens the innocent or disrespects the ocean. There were a lot of starchildren too, but the creatures of starchildren were hunted and killed, leaving Rigel, Esther, and Castor the last three starchildren. Esther was a starchild who escaped the sacrifice, who is far more cruel and jaded than Castor, and when Castor is “awakened”, she goes after him to use him to punish everyone.

Rigel is that turtle Whale island thing, Esther is the kraken, and Castor turns into the Leviathan.

The star god is no benevolent being, and is not a god at all. He’s a regular human who got magic from some meteorite, idk, there doesn’t need to be any specifics lol, and he grew immensely powerful. He resides away from the ocean, but he is not a good person. He’s greedy, selfish, and does nothing to help the innocent starchildren he “created”. He would love to have the starchildren to do his bidding, but if they die, it’s no matter, cuz he doesn’t need them. Idk maybe he’s not greedy lol. Either way the star god is not a good person, but I kinda want the star god’s role to be similar to Davy Jones in pirates of the Caribbean. There must always be a star god.

Anyways I hope that all makes sense 💀💀 Ronan is just there, being roped up into this nonsense, but he’s a good boy with a good heart and wants to help the starchildren, and he and Castor grow close.

[jhsjykwpdw]

angel baby by troye sivan is a pynch song: a comprehensive study

Ronan wrapped his arms around Adam, pinning Adam’s upper arms against him. He was contained. “Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit,” Ronan said into Adam’s hearing ear, and Adam’s body sagged against Ronan, chest heaving. His hands still jerked and strained to violence. He gasped, “You asshole,” but Ronan could hear how near tears he was.

Noah cackled and showed them the cassette. It boasted a handmade label marked with Ronan’s handwriting: PARRISH’S HONDAYOTA ALONE TIME. The other side was A SHITBOX SING-ALONG.

Adam had come for him. All this way. He had not given up. He had risked everything.

The choice was death or hurting Adam, which wasn’t much of a choice at all.

For that first summer, the Barns was paradise to Ronan Lynch and Adam Parrish.

For a long time, it was paradise, and the dreaming was good.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that Ronan was looking at him, as he had been looking at him for months. Adam looked back, as he had been looking back for months. 

His mouth remembered Ronan Lynch’s. What was he doing? Ronan was not something to be played with. He didn’t think he was playing.

It was Ronan, unperformed. No. Ronan, unprotected. This tone reminded Adam of that unshielded smile from before. Don’t play, he told himself. This is not a game. But it didn’t feel like a game, if he was being honest. 

What do you want, Adam? To feel awake when my eyes are open.

Instead, though, he just stood there and watched it approach. Even at the last minute, as he heard the rain pounding the grass flat, he just stood there. He closed his eyes and let the storm soak him. That was this kiss.

The proper truth struck Ronan: The plants had not saved their lives. Adam Parrish had saved their lives.

His head rested miserably on Ronan’s shoulder, everything shaking, standing only because Ronan did not allow him to sink.

Adam could not decide if this was the worst thing that had happened to him, or if it felt that way because he had been so recently and senselessly happy that the comparison was making it so.

Ronan felt that he had caught happiness without meaning to. He could do anything.

He just lived in the moment with Ronan instead.

And that was before Ronan even got to worrying if Adam made it to the afterlife at all, with his agnostic tendencies.

Ronan hadn’t thought much about the future.

Adam felt Ronan’s eyes glance off him and away, his disinterest practiced but incomplete.

Adam had recently realized Ronan was a weakness to his ambition, since it was harder to work with two moving pieces rather than one, but he couldn’t talk himself out of it. He tried each night he was alone in the apartment over St. Agnes, and he failed every time he saw Ronan again.

They sprawled on the living room sofa and Adam studied the tattoo that covered Ronan’s back: all the sharp edges that hooked wondrously and fearfully into each other. “Unguibus et rostro,” Adam said.

Ronan crossed his arms to wait, just looking. At Adam’s fine cheekbones, his furrowed fair eyebrows, his beautiful hands, everything washed out by the furious light. He had memorized the shape of Adam’s hands in particular: the way his thumb jutted awkwardly, boyishly; the roads of the prominent veins; the large knuckles that punctuated his long fingers. In dreams Ronan put them to his mouth.

Adam, as a secretive creature, understood secrets.

Ronan’s second secret was Adam Parrish.

Adam, a secretive animal, was acutely tuned to other people’s secrets.

Gansey met her eyes, and then the Dog’s, in the rearview mirror. "Adam keeps his secrets pretty close."

Adam would have never pried — secrets were secrets — but he couldn’t deny that he’d been curious.

But Adam knew everything, both because he’d been there when certain things had gone down, and because Ronan shared everything with him.

Every minute that the Barns had been his all of the time he’d spent here alone or with Adam, dreaming and scheming. Home, home, home. 

He was so raw and electric that it was hard to believe that he was awake. Normally it took sleep to strip him to this naked energy. But this was not a dream. This was his life, his home, his night.

Seeing the two pairs tumbled together, a nameless feeling had suddenly overwhelmed Ronan. It was about Adam’s gloves here, but it “was also Adam’s jacket tossed on a dining room chair, his soda can forgotten on the foyer table, him somewhere tossed with equal comfort in the Barns, his presence commonplace enough that he was not having to perform or engage with Ronan at all times. He was not dating Ronan; he was living in Ronan’s life with him.

This was like walking the line between dream and sleep. The night-sharp balance of being asleep enough to dream and awake enough to remember what he wanted. He knew Adam had figured out how he felt. But he didn’t know if he could step off this knife-slender path without destroying what he had.

Ronan sometimes dreamt of Adam too, the latter boy sullen and elegant and fluently disdainful of dream-Ronan’s clumsy attempts to communicate.

Adam was in the dream, too; he traced the tangled pattern of the ink with his finger. He said, “Scio quid hoc est.” As he traced it father and father down on the bare skin of Ronan’s back, Ronan himself disappeared entirely. 

His feelings for Adam were an oil spill; he’d let them overflow and now there wasn’t a damn place in the ocean that wouldn’t catch fire if he dropped a match. 

[clotpolesonly]

📔!!

(content/trigger warning: abuse and dubcon) (also this turned into a whole-ass notfic, it's lengthy, sorry not sorry, i think about this one so much alkjfgakfg)

.

badwrong Declinsky AU where Kavinsky runs an underground boxing ring. he's invited Ronan a dozen times, but Gansey told him no, and Ronan is obeying that edict as long as Gansey doesn't try to stop him from racing too.

Declan has also told Ronan no, and tried to get him to stop racing, and tried to get him to stop going anywhere near Kavinsky because Kavinsky is fucking dangerous and the worst kind of influence and gonna get him in trouble or hurt or in jail or

but also.......Ronan isn't the only one who boxes. and if anyone needs an outlet for pent up aggression, it's Declan. so, against his better judgment, in spite of all the warnings he's given to his brother, in a moment of shameful weakness, Declan goes. he goes to one of Kavinsky's warehouses, he gets in the ring, and he lets himself go a little feral.

and it's fucking great. it feels fantastic to let loose, to not have to worry about the person he's hitting, to let himself sink into the physicality of it and just fight, to WIN unequivocally, to have a whole crowd of people cheering for him and chanting his name.

it's not so great dealing with Kavinsky himself. he's sleazy and provocative and casually dismissively cruel in that special way of his, but he's the one in charge here. and he likes the way Declan fights. he invites Declan back, says he could make him some real money, put him on the books. says Declan could be something special.

Declan has never felt special.

at first Declan tells him to fuck off. this was a one time thing and it's not happening again. but that only holds until the next time Ronan calls him a selfish bastard, until the next time he gets called out of his own class because Matthew missed too many assignments in his, until the next time his burner phone goes off and the reminder of the utter shit show his dad left him to deal with makes him feel like the world is falling apart around him.

then he's back in the ring. then his opponent is on the ground and Kavinsky is holding his arm up and declaring him the winner, pounding him on the back and calling him a champion. then the crowd is chanting his name like it means something more than just Declan.

after a lifetime of deliberate underachievement (and parental emotional negligence), the acknowledgement alone is intoxicating. combined with the endorphin thrill of the fight and he's flying high. he wonders if this is what Ronan feels like when he races. it's gotta be, to make it worth the risk. to make it worth Kavinsky, pressing in close behind him, hands on his bare shoulders, shouting in his ear about what a fucking show he put on.

Declan tries to keep his distance from Kavinsky, he really does. the problem is that Kavinsky really gets off on provoking people, on getting them react to him, and that makes Declan -- staid, stoic, tightly controlled, unflappable Declan -- his white fucking whale. (at least while Ronan is still playing lapdog to Gansey and out of his reach. he's playing the long game there.)

for now, he's set his sights on Declan, and Kavinsky always gets what he wants eventually.

it's a back and forth between praising him for his prowess in the ring, making him feel special and valued, and pissing him off once he's out of the ring, negging and confrontational and, worst of all, comparing him to Ronan. always reminding Declan that Ronan was his first choice, that Ronan is everyone's first choice. Kavinsky is nothing if not good at knowing what pressure points to hit, and Declan's aren't exactly hard to guess.

it takes him a couple of weeks to goad Declan into a big reaction, but it only takes a few seconds to turn the tables on him when it happens. in the aftermath of a big win, Declan riding the high, still shaking with adrenaline. Kavinsky, with one well placed snide comment, shoved back against a wall and about to get hit. pulling Declan in and kissing him instead, the bait and switch too quick and destabilizing for Declan to react appropriately at first. Kavinsky gets them off, rough and quick, and leaves Declan there to stew in the confusion and mixed feelings of it.

it becomes a pattern, sex with Kavinsky. it's not something that Declan ever intends to do, but somehow it keeps happening anyway, and Declan's never entirely sure how he gets there. especially because it's not exactly pleasant. not that it doesn't feel good physically (it does, usually, even when it's rough, and Kavinsky always makes sure he gets off) but the dichotomy of it, emotionally, doesn't. one minute, praise, the next, degradation. petting his hair with one hand and slapping his face with the other. he feels perpetually off balance, and he hates that feeling.

if asked, Declan would say it doesn't matter. it's just sex. he's had plenty of casual sex with people he didn't particularly like, and this is no different. it's just part of the whole fucked up bad idea stress relief thing that is this boxing ring. he's got it under control.

except that he's on the books now, contracted (so to speak, for whatever value that has in an illegally run underground operation like this) for however many fights Kavinsky thinks will be profitable, which is a lot. he's Kavinsky's prize fighter (he croons that in Declan's ear when he fucks him sometimes, that he's K's champion, his favorite, that even Ronan doesn't compare) and Kavinsky isn't going to let him go. the fights themselves are getting harder, and the stakes higher. word of the ring is spreading and people are coming in from all over to get a piece of the action.

there's also K's dreaming to contend with. he's not doing a whole lot with it here, but Declan knows about it, and K knows he knows about it, and that knowledge hovers over them without needing to spoken. the fact that Kavinsky has power and Declan doesn't. that Kavinsky could do anything and Declan wouldn't be able to stop him. the fact that, whatever control Declan thinks he has over this situation, he's lying to himself about it. Kavinsky holds all the cards here.

Declan comes to that realization, in truth, long before he allows himself to actually acknowledge it. he's very good at suppressing thoughts and emotions he doesn't want to deal with, and the nature of his relationship with Kavinsky gets packed into a neatly labeled box and shoved in the back of his mind where he can ignore it while he hides bruises from his brothers and his teachers alike. this is fine. everything is fine, he has it under control.

spoiler alert: he does not have it under control. also, Kavinsky is getting bored with the holding pattern. he wanted Declan, and he got him. with that out of the way, he sets his sights back on the other Lynch. he tries again to get Ronan to join the fight, which doesn't work, so he tries sowing a little entertaining mayhem instead using his new favorite toy: he starts dropping hints about Declan. nothing overt, but enough to get Ronan's attention.

Ronan, not one for beating around the bush, tries confronting Declan to find out wtf K meant by what he said. asks him outright what's going on. but Declan is not about to admit to anyone, especially Ronan, that he got himself into an abusive relationship with Joseph Kavinsky and is contracted to fight in the underground boxing ring that he specifically warned Ronan away from.

he tries pushing Ronan away, which usually works cuz Ronan gets pissy and defensive and is more than happy to leave him alone. this time, though, Ronan is determined not to be pushed so it just pisses him off. they end up fighting, as they often do. but Declan is still injured from his last match. and he's so tired of fighting. for once, he doesn't actually want to fight with Ronan. some part of him wants to tell his brother what's going on, but he has his pride, and a bigger part of him honestly doesn't think that Ronan would care or even believe him.

he doesn't tell him. he lashes out, tells Ronan that it's none of his goddamn business what Declan does, to fuck off back to his never-ending self-destruction and stop pretending that he gives a shit. he knows what buttons to push and it ends with him, alone on the ground, bleeding, knowing that Kavinsky expects him back in the ring in an hour.

the confrontation shakes them both, though. Ronan, pissed as he is, is now even more determined to figure out what the FUCK is going on. and hey, Kavinsky's invited him to this fight a hundred times. maybe it's time he checks it out.

he gets there right around the time that Declan rebels. it's been a while since he went toe to toe with Kavinsky. Declan had hardly noticed the gradual change in his and K's dynamic, the way their previous push and pull has become a lot more push and a lot less pull over time, but it becomes glaringly obvious when his aggression, once a standard part of their relationship, is met with a backhand that almost knocks him to the ground.

Ronan sees this. but he also sees the way Kavinsky shoves Declan up against a wall and kisses him. he sees the way Declan doesn't (can't) fight it. whatever he was expecting, it wasn't that.

Ronan turns right around and walks back out the door, trying to wrap his head around what the fuck he just witnessed. none of it matches up with the image of his brother that he's always had in his head -- someone untouchable, someone strong and proud and in control. someone who does things, not has things done to them. and after the last few years and all the shit that's gone down between them, Ronan is hard-wired for blame where Declan is concerned, that's his first instinct and knee-jerk reaction. anger is a safe and familiar emotion, so he defaults to an explanation that's easier to swallow than any of the other ways that what he witnessed could be interpreted.

Declan yelled at him for racing and warned him off of this exact fight. Declan told him to stay away from Kavinsky. why? so Declan could fuck him himself? so Declan could fight without Ronan knowing about it? Declan is a fucking hypocrite.

he's worked himself up good and mad by the time Declan comes out after his match, Kavinsky draped all over him (praise and affection, to balance out the slap Declan drove him to earlier, of course). Ronan starts throwing punches. Kavinsky is, of course, fucking delighted. now he has both Lynches' attention.

Declan, not so delighted. deeply horrified, actually. he somehow manages to get things de-escalated to the point of non-violence (or at least violence temporarily suspended) and tells Kavinsky to go, that he's done enough damage for one night. K only leaves, grinning wolfishly, because he knows it's true. he'll have plenty of fun picking up the pieces later.

Ronan is convinced to continue the confrontation at Declan's apartment where there are at least fewer people to watch from the doorway, thanks, but he doesn't hesitate to let loose as soon as they get there. about what a hypocrite Declan is, about the fighting, about him fucking Kavinsky, about everything.

Declan doesn't even know how to defend himself because saying that he didn't plan for this, that he doesn't want this, is too dangerous to say. because what it really means is "this is non-consensual" and he's not ready to unpack that yet, even just to himself. he's still trying to convince himself that he's got some measure of control over the situation, which he absolutely does not, and what little he had left is rapidly spinning out of reach. Ronan is still yelling, and there's nothing he can say to him that won't make things worse, and all he can think of is how K is going to take advantage of this, and this is the story of Declan's first panic attack.

it's not a loud sobby one, more like Gansey's silent one when he was down the hole in the cave. he's distantly aware of what's happening, but outwardly he's just frozen. pale and shaky, heart racing, breath coming fast, eyes wide open on nothing, hands clenched white knuckled on the table edge.

it takes Ronan ages to notice. it isn't until he shoves Declan, thinking he's ignoring him (he's done that before, when he deemed Ronan's tirade a tantrum) and that shakes loose some of those hyperventilation gasps that he's been keeping so carefully controlled. Declan just sits down on the ground, head between his knees.

Ronan has no idea what to do with that. suddenly, he's reminded of the backhand. of the look on Declan's face after the kiss with K, which he had kind of sort of disregarded in favor of being angry. it's getting harder to willfully misinterpret. harder to be mad at Declan when he's curled on the ground on the verge of tears.

he doesn't know what to do. Declan freaking out really freaks him out, cuz Declan doesn't do this!! Declan is the one with the cool head, the one who always has it together, the one who knows what to do in every crisis situation! what the fuck is happening?? nothing about this situation is computing for him, and Ronan zooms past angry and straight into alarmed and concerned.

Ronan has seen Gansey's panic attacks on occasion and he's finally like FUCK OK and figures he would actually at least try to help a little. tries to get him to breathe, tries not to yell anymore at least for now, tries the counting thing that Gansey does sometimes. he can't really tell if it helps or not, but eventually Declan does stop wheezing like that.

the first thing Declan says when he has his breath back is "get out." he says it repeatedly at increasing volumes when Ronan says fuck no. he wants Ronan out of his apartment before he starts crying, because he can feel it coming on, it's the worst feeling in the world and he knows from experience that he can't stop it after holding off a breakdown for this long. when Ronan won't go, Declan scrambles to shut himself in his room and locks the door behind him.

unfortunately for him, Ronan has moved past the angry and confused part and so far into concern that he actually tries being nice.

"look, I don't know what's going on here, man, but just…..just talk to me, okay? just tell me what's going on, you're really freaking me out. never thought I'd say this, but i can help. i wanna help. come on, don't make me kick down this door, Decklo."

Declan, on the floor with his back against the door, sobbing as quietly as possible with this hand over his mouth. he ends up opening the door before he's done crying solely because he knows that Ronan 100% will actually kick his door in, and the last thing he needs right now is the hassle and expense of getting it replaced. but he says "DON'T" and Ronan, for once, obeys and keeps his mouth shut. he just sits down next to Declan, close enough for their shoulders to touch but not looking at him, and waits.

eventually he asks "what the hell did Kavinsky do to you?"

it's the only conclusion he can come to.

Declan says "nothing I didn't let him do" which isn't strictly true, but it feels true.

Ronan asks if Kavinsky needs killing (his way of asking if Kavinsky assaulted Declan, because he's certainly not gonna ask that out loud, but the thought is definitely in his head by now. he knows what K is like better than most.) Declan is like "jesus mary and joseph, NO" and Ronan is already getting frustrated, but Declan -- so so tired and worn down -- asks, very perfunctorily and much more fragile-sounding than he likes, that Ronan not yell at him right now.

Ronan is reminded of something that Blue said once, about how all women are instinctively afraid when men raise their voices, because of the rates of violence against them. he doesn't like being reminded of that by Declan of all people. It implies that Declan was a victim of violence, which is all kinds of wrong and impossible to conceive of. Ronan is SO far out of his depth and he does not know how to handle this.

Declan can see that Ronan is on the verge of jumping up to do something stupid -- he's always been a man of action, not of words and feelings -- and he realizes that he's going to have to tell him. whether he wants to or not. for Ronan's sake, always sacrificing what he wants for Ronan's sake. he feels like shit for being resentful of Ronan right when Ronan's decides to be a good brother for once, but he's got K's voice in his head, rubbing in how much everything is all about Ronan all the time, Ronan the favorite, the prodigal son, and poor little insignificant Declan, so desperate for attention that he'll bend over for anyone who asks nicely. or not so nicely, as the case may be.

it's canon-confirmed that none of the Lynch brothers want to be seen as anything other than deliberate, even if it's deliberately cruel. so Declan wields the truth as a weapon and a shield, opting to hurt them both so at least it's not just him.

"what do you want to hear, Ronan? do you wanna hear about how we fuck? do you wanna hear about how I let Kavinsky get in my head? about how I was so fucking tired of being the only unspecial person in the family that all he had to do was call me his prize fighter and I was rolling over for him? about how he treated me like shit and I kept coming back anyway because I'm so fucking lonely and desperate that I didn't care?"

it's one of those "oh god, my brother is a person" moments for Ronan. he's never really thought that Declan was bothered by being the normal one, because he'd never given any outward indication that he was. Ronan doesn't do repression the way that Declan does, he doesn't understand it or expect it the same way, but he sure is seeing the effect of it now. it's all Declan's polish stripped away to leave him worn thin, ragged at the edges, wild and young and exhausted. angry and resentful and hurting.

weirdly, this Declan is a lot more relatable. it looks a lot more like him.

Ronan tries to think of what Gansey would say. or what Blue would say, she seems like she'd be comforting or whatever. but all he can come up with in the end is "do you need help? getting out?"

Declan's mouth goes dry. "there is no getting out."

he's tried to leave before. he's always been goaded into another fuck, or talked out of it, or promised another fight, or given an ultimatum, or outright threatened. you don't just leave Kavinsky, and Ronan does understand that to an extent. he's raced with K for years now, and he's never managed to quit him no matter how many times Declan and Gansey have tried to convince him to, even when he's sworn to himself that he will.

and K has never had his claws into Ronan as deeply as he does Declan. Ronan has never been isolated, K can't convince Ronan that no one else can give him what he needs because Ronan has Gansey. he has Noah, and Adam, and Blue, and Matthew, and even Declan, if push came to shove. Declan's never had anyone to rely on like that, anyone that he trusted enough to ask for help if he needed it. when he needed it.

but he does now. fuck everything else, fuck all the water under the bridge, they can come back to that shit later. all that matters right now is that Ronan's brother needs help. he's damn well gonna get it. and Kavinsky's gonna get what's coming to him.

.

send me a book emoji for the plot of a fic that i haven't written but daydream about!!

[xiaojianggshi]

Hello, can you do Enhypen members as superheroes or anime characters?

hello!! of course, i believe i'll narrow it down though. admittedly, i don't really know alot about superheroes.

i also have not watched anime for awhile and don't know what is in demand, so i'll do it based off of manhwa villainesses. if there are any specific series in mind, feel free to ask!!

this leaves me for today's post,

"if enhypen woke up one day as a villain in a manhwa, who would they be and what would their story unfold?"

enhypen as manhwa villainesses

heeseung as a villainess could be very glamorous. in the world of the plot, he would be someone who sets trends and holds a lot of power. i believe he could be in a loveless or fake marriage with someone from a royal family. he would be amazing at seeing new opportunities overcoming challenges to move forward and live his best life.

based on what i have gathered from the cards, i believe heeseung as a villainess would be similar to aristia la monique from the abandoned empress!! in the story, aristia was born into a powerful family and was prophecized to marry the crown prince, erven though he does not care for her. nonetheless, she prevails and carves her own fate.

page of cups, four of cups rx., the sun, strength

jay's story is definitely about starting off powerless and weak though aggressive and defensive. a lot of this weakness may stem inside of his family but he slowly gains power with economic pursuits. there is a theme of marriage and a powerful, royal family. it is likely that in the end, jay marries into the royal family.

a great match up to this plot is penelope eckhart from villains are destined to die. penelope is adopted daughter to replace a wealthy family's daughter, her new family dislikes her for this reason. she does gains the favor of a crown prince. eventually the family warms up to her, but the years of hardship she faced keeps her distant.

the chariot rx., king of pentacles, ten of pentacles rx., five of wands

jake's story may follow the manhwa saintess archetype. his original fate was definitely not good but he learns to rise above it. the character he may possess would be a very spiteful and jealous saintess who loses everything in the end. he may not originally be able to cut ties completely, but he does get to live happily!

this is essentially the story of ariel from i'm a fake saintess but the gods are in love with me! it is new compared to others but the main character possesses a fake saintess in a novel. the male leads fall in love with ariel and try to capture her but she escapes with the help of gods who are her fans and work in her favor.

the hierophant, ten of swords rx., the chariot rx., queen of cups rx., ten of pentacles rx.

sunghoon as a manhwa villainess would be someone very mentally strong. it would not be reincarnation, but would have a second chance at life and snaps out of a previous mindset. he becomes an assertive war hero but still is restrained in the past. the relationship between him and the love interest would be related to fates and connections between lives.

this story reminds me a lot of charlize ronan from i tamed a tyrant and ran away! charlize in her first life is turned into a sword for eternity, yet is given a second chance. she plans to destroy the empire that schemed to turn her into a sword. the love interest, the tyrant, does show interest in her sword form in her first life, yet she runs away from him in her second, in fear of hurting him.

four of swords rx., knight of swords, three of wands rx., wheel of fortune

sunoo's story would have had him blinded and in denial, such as in denial of the love interest not reciprocating his feelings. his character could have issues with family, most particularly a father. otherwise, his character would be optimistic and overall, very sweet! sunoo has a manhwa villainess would grow to become independent and elegant.

this is very similar to jubelian eloy floyen from father, i don't want this marriage! jubelian is framed for poisoning a princess, but is saved from her estranged and distant father in her first life. in her second life, there are a lot of communication errors between jubel and her father. jubelian, though normally sweet, stands up to the people who roiginally framed her.

two of swords, the emperor rx., queen of wands, nine of pentacles

jungwon as a manhwa villainess would be a character who tried very hard to win the affection of the love interest, but would lose to the main character. there would be a lot of negative gossip around him but he stands his ground. he, as a villainess, challenges the values around him, even though he himself may be a little negative.

this description fits eris miserian from kill the villainess. eris is a sad and painful protagonist, or villainess in this case. this can be inferred by her surname which really is misery. she is not liked in favor of the sweet commoner who the crown prince is in love with, no matter how hard she tries, but she still remains strong and holds her head high.

the world rx., nine of swords rx., six of swords rx., the hierophant rx.

in niki's story, he would be in some misfortune, or just not being treated very well throughout the story or in the background of the story. his story could be revolved around how he responds to his misfortunes. overall, his story is very light hearted and is much more calm than the other ones of this story. there could be a theme of exhaustion in the story.

rubia de grandia la luxen from the lady needs a break, is a good example for this plot. rubia is very exhausted, as she feels cursed to remember and live many different lives. in her life as 'rubia' she decides to give up on trying and just wants to relax in wealth before she must go on to her next life.

justice, eight of wands, five of wands rx., nine of swords

[muttlyparasitic]

Offenderman headcanons (includes some Slenderbrother stuff and oporator headcanons)

OBVIOUSLY TW ⚠️

-Birthname is Ronan, given to him by his mother who passed at age 24

-Mothers name was Thea, she lived in a small village in a deep forest, village population is 45 not including her.

-Thea was the Operators first and most loyal follower, technically the first proxy.

- Operator is the father of the 4 main slender Brothers, Slenderman is his eldest son and most resembles him.

-Oporator gave Ronan the name offenderman as a way to mentaly abuse him and force his will to bend to his fathers. The Oporator is a power hungry being and having his sons practically worship him fed its ego like crazy, by fed I do infact mean in the literal sense.

-Ronan did R-word a young women when he was still in his youth, this was the inspiration for his name Offenderman, it was the perfect tool for his father to "dehumanize" him with.

-Because of the human monster hybrid genes all of his brothers and him all struggle with things that don't clash well genetically.

-Ronan unfortunately struggles with a hyper-sexual disorder and do to his monster genes he ends up dealing with his suppressed urges in the most terrifying of ways.

Slender sickness?

18+ warning ⚠️

-Ronan just like his elder brother Slenderman and his father Operator, has his own version of the "slender sickness" it acts a lot like the honnika decease where bouquets of thorned flowers will start sprouting from his victims body usually the eyes, mouths, nipples and hands. These bouquets suffocate the victim till they turn weak, once they are close to passing out the bouquets decay and the victim is frankly left a horny mess. Their lust forces them to find their way to Ronan where he can do what his animalistic will wishes.

-Ronan does not pick its victims the sickness is not as controllable as the original slender sickness.

-Because of what Ronan did to that young women while in his youth he was outcasted by his brothers and fathers, he became a recluse and in his past time would work out to try and control his lustful urges. This changed after about 40 years when the Operator was killed by something unknown and Ronan felt like he could attempt to reintegrate himself into his brothers lives.

-That was a mistake and thats how Offenderman got his rep with the humans.

-Splendorman was the only one who stayed with him and supported him adter his mothers passing.

To be continued

[phantomforce]

“Will you love me even more when I’m dead?” :^)

❝ don’t —  ❞ his voice is low, as frigid as the night, & just as unforgiving / apathy cracks, frustration bleeds through. what’s left of his patience, his tolerance, is slipping through his fingers like sand through an hourglass, & no matter his grip, he can feel it all falling away from him. he should be used to it by now, unwillingly, he knows — her unwanted flirtations, her wicked grins, her inescapable presence. everything he had never asked for, but had been given regardless, because she didn’t know how to leave well enough alone. ❝ — treat death like another one of your stupid jokes.  ❞ he’s done what he can to bear it ; he doesn’t have a choice no matter how many times he’s pushed her away. she’s stupidly stubborn to a fault, & on some days — he could make himself weak enough to have the stomach for it. let his guard down, let himself pretend that she wasn’t another loss waiting to happen, & he wouldn’t there to witness it. but, on others, there were little moments of lucidity, moments where she’d recklessly RUN her mouth, & force ronan to remember why he had separated himself from the rest of humanity. so many lives, so much time that would be lost in the blink of an eye / him, always unchanging, immortality’s victim, a harbinger of the end for those that fate didn’t have the mercy to spare. corpse after corpse, memory after haunting memory. leaving him more wound than scar, blood - stained, & a knife embedded in up to the hilt — why should he give anyone else the power to TWIST it ? what made her think that she was an exception, that her obstinance would be enough to reward her with his generosity ? ❝ if you’re that desperate to mean something, then make that meaning while you’re still ALIVE — with someone that’s actually interested in caring about you. ❞ sharp, cruel. said with his back turned, & teeth gritted hard enough to nearly paint his tongue scarlet. he should be kinder, he knows that. more gentle. but, he can’t even try when he feels his nerves being flayed RAW — why ? WHY ? why couldn’t she just leave him alone ? ❝ stop looking for it in the wrong place. you’re wasting what little time you actually have left. ❞

[lorata]

If you had to do prime vs prime lineups, which of your Twos (victor or not) would be the winners? From what I can tell I'm guessing Misha, Lyme, Brutus, Claudius, and Calli are up there? But pls let me know if any of these are wrong or who I'm forgetting.

Assuming of course they have no personal connection to each other

I am the most unpopular author in THG whenever anyone asks me this but here we go

I never answer X vs Y because the whole point of the Hunger Games is that anyone can win.

I don’t mean that in the Capitol propaganda “hope is the only thing stronger than fear” way, I mean it in the way the Centre trainers warn a kid who’s getting too cocky. Everyone who won did so because skill, yes, but also the specific circumstances of their Arena at that given time. Anyone who’s written, say, a 74th AU knows how easy it is to shift that and affect the outcome. The Hunger Games are the most butterfly flaps its wings experience ever.

Misha has the strongest sword skills of anyone in the Village but as Haymitch says, arrogance can be a real problem. Lyme and Brutus win 50/50 against each other whenever they spar because he’s stronger but she’s faster. Ronan in his 70s routinely still wins because everyone underestimates him and he’s crafty as hell. Everyone has a weakness and that’s not even getting into what the Arena has to offer — think of all the years a strong contender dies in their sleep.

I think anyone could make an argument for their fave winning against another character, only for someone else to argue the reverse, and the cool thing is you’d BOTH be right! I have written a 3QQ AU where Brutus lives, one where Enobaria lives, and the moment where she kills him or he kills her is a hairpin.

ANYWAY. The real answer to this question, as it is every time, is “Your favourite character wins” — as long as you recognize it’s simultaneously true for everyone else.

[snorlaxlovesme]

it’s hard to say what I feel about Greywaren because it was such a clusterfuck of things I didn’t expect and things I’d been waiting for. but i think that overall i’m happy with it. my sister has been asking me as i read The Dreamer Trilogy “so if i’ve only read TRC, would you recommend that I read TDT too or stop?” and that’s been what i’ve been grappling with the whole time. and i think that as a TRC reader and massive fan, i think this series worth following up with, if i was telling a casual fan.

as a fandom we all knew that the ending of TRC (while still fantastic in its own right and should not be discredited) was a bit of a clusterfuck, due to Maggie’s failing health and the fact that a five-book series needed to be whittled down to four, making Gansey’s death a lot shorter than it could have been. it means that TRK specifically has left a lot of What Ifs that got harder and harder to ignore. i really wanted to know what Maggie could write in more ideal circumstances, with more creative freedom and a body with fewer parasites in it. and i think that she did a great job delivering an ending that satisfied me, actually a lot better than a lot of her books do (i’ve often found her endings kind of weak)

BUT. and this is an incredibly big but (har har) a thing that has always ALWAYS grated me about The Dreamer Trilogy is that it was presented as a sister series instead of a sequel series. having a series that takes place directly after a mindblowing series like TRC and having to act like NONE of that development affects where the characters start in this series just fucking ate at me constantly. Maggie has to jump through so many writing hoops to make CDTH make sense since she can’t introduce an already established character and assume the reader has knowledge of them and it drove me nuts. it makes CDTH an incredibly annoying read for me to this day, despite all the good content in it, because every time a TRC specific scenario or cameo appears i always have to step back and wonder what non-TRC readers think is happening right here, and pick apart the way Maggie has to find a way to shoehorn previous plot points into a narrative that doesn’t really allow time for Mr. Gray flashback, doesn’t have the space to really get into the nitty gritty of Adam’s abuse or his use of magic, and such. things like that needing to be smooshed down into like a two-paragraph summarization of BOOKS worth of development was....annoying.

MI has a lot less TRC content which makes it more enjoyable, and by the time Greywaren comes around and the TRC easter eggs start popping in every other page I legit just have to assume that MAGGIE assumed she’d given TDT readers plenty of time to pick up TRC so if they don’t know what’s going on by now, that’s on them. Greywaren is an end to ALL of it, not just The Dreamer Trilogy, that’s super evident.

okay, now time to get into Greywaren specifics. the likes and dislikes. 

i was very thrown by Ronan being asleep for most of the book. i think that bummed me out, for obvious reason, i like Ronan and like his interactions with people. also I just didn’t expect that to be the focal point of the book. but i thought the descriptions of the sweetmetal sea were really cool and i like just the viney, veiny, lightning strike descriptions of Ronan’s consciousness when he was in that nebulous dreaming space. so much of this books is really High Concept and i think that Maggie did a good job helping me envision something so surreal

i loved every page with Adam, unsurprisingly, even the ones where he told Declan he was just gonna LEAVE Ronan’s body and never visit it (absolutely insane thing to say, Adam, what the fuck). but the description of that scene, how Adam could barely even look at Ronan, were super telling. i thought the development of Adam’s character was fantastic despite having so little of him in the series. the scene where he works out all of his troubles, told in essay format? fucking divine writing. having his story mainly be about his love of Ronan, his proficiency with magic, and his desire to Be a Normal Successful Student With No Tragic Backstory were SO GOOD. i wish that the ending was a bit more concrete about where his life went in the epilogue, but knowing that he gets a good job and gets Ronan is enough. i’m still satisfied.

Hennessy and Jordan is muddier. i guess i wanted a more concrete answer as to why they were proficient in making sweetmetals, though im glad they eventually got good enough at it to help out the world and make it a career. i liked that we finally got the answer that Jordan is what Hennessy would be without the influence of Jay. her optimism and her drive were all things that were stripped away from Hennessy because of her childhood (AND because she’s a dreamer). i think that Jordan’s story was more MI than this, but i always enjoy reading Jordan’s perspective.

Hennessy learning that her artist’s ability made her made her supernaturally valuable was really nice, though. i liked that she finally found the same sort of power that Ronan had when dreaming, but in the waking world. that was very cool. 

Hennessy’s relationship with Farooq-Lane was....interesting.

Listen. I’m going to be real here. I don’t really care for Carmen much. I care for Liliana even less. They’re integral pieces to this story, but I didn’t like them at all in CDTH, they grew on me a little in MI when they realized working for the Mods was wrong, and they fell a little bit flat for me in this series. I did not care with Liliana died, I literally THOUGHT that Carmen died and had to go read the epilogue again just now to see if she was in it (apparently she lived). Idk. i don’t want to say the relationship between Carmen and Hennessy was forced, but for me the spark wasn’t there. that might just be because Hennessy’s relationship with Ronan was much messier and more interesting than her and Carmen’s. 

Carmen’s whole intrigue for me was centered around Nathan. I liked all the insight we got into her having a serial killer brother and the emotional complexity behind that. Thinking that he died at the very beginning of the series and all the horrible feelings associated with helping KILL your brother and the fact that your brother killed so many. The twist that Nathan was still alive was cool, the fact that he was the REAL apocalypse villain was neat, but I was still upset it wasn’t Bryde who was the real villian

OKAY NOW IT’S TIME TO GET TO THE MEAT AND POTATOES. LET’S TALK ABOUT THE LYNCHES.

I don’t even know where to start. Matthew? Let’s talk about Matthew bc he’s probably the easiest to begin with. Every scene with Matthew was amazing, even if there were only a couple since Declan STOLE HIS SWEETMETAL OFF OF HIM. I’d punch him too, oh my GOD. i’m so happy Matthew punched him. I’m so happy he fucked up his car. i was getting so irate that Declan time and time again kept infantilizing him and treating him like a pet more than a brother and just being really reductive to all of Matthew’s turmoil. so having Matthew snap was amazing. his scene with Bryde in the museum was SO funny. and having him finally return an wipe Declan’s tears away after Declan assumed he’d been dead the whole time was very satisfying. i desperately want art of that reunion

Ronan was. well. RONAN. all caps. like him being a manifest godling makes perfect sense, it tied together why Cabeswater favored him, why his dreaming was more powerful than anyone else’s in the whole series (besides Bryde, the Experienced Dreamer dreamt by said godling). i want to read the whole series again with this complete picture of Ronan. knowing that FEELINGS, all caps, were dreamed into him by Niall intentionally to make him more human, to make him deeply understand humanity, was such a fantastic detail. and knowing that there was a REASON behind the batshit rule of no one mentioning dreaming outright, of Niall never teaching Ronan how to dream. that’s some GOOOODD retconning right there

and sidenote, all the Niall/Mor flashbacks, being told in those expository chapters to give the reader more and more of a complete picture, and then later revealed as the threads of memory to be given to Declan at the end of the book? GENIUS way of formatting that. i loved that that exposition could be so neatly given over to Declan like that

and man. fuck. Declan.

Declan and Mor and NIALL. 

on the one hand i’m actually MAD that Niall got a redemption arc, purely for the fact that for the past seven years that i’ve been in the fandom we’ve been ragging on him so hard to the point where it’s a meme. Worst Father of the Year with always always be Niall, so having Maggie so completely flip that was so GENIUS and so infuriating lol

but Godddd, finding out that Declan had always been Niall’s favorite hurt me in ways nothing else in TDT ever could. he took away his memory of Declan’s birth because it was the happiest moment of his life and he couldn’t bear to revisit it with Mor leaving like that. that he brought Declan with him on all of his travels BECAUSE HE WANTED TO BE CLOSE TO HIM aHH it’s so fucked up. i have not stopped thinking about the scene were Declan is sick and you can tell that Niall went through hell to make it back home to him just so he could drape Declan across him and hug him while he slept. it’s such a tender image it hurts my heart. especially to be followed up by all of the family having to abandon all tender Declan moments to rid the room of the dreamt claddaugh rings afterwards. just another instance of Declan’s pain having to be pushed aside in favor of dealing with dreams AUGH

all the times Declan thought “I hate you” meaning “I miss you”??? the searing memory that the Barns weren’t left to him, but the DC townhouse was because Niall knew that Declan wanted to go into politics and this would put him closer to the action?? I WEEP

reading the whole series recontextualized with this knowledge is going to break my brain

and the symbolism of Declan not being a part of the final showdown and having to put his trust in other people? to allow others to carry HIM? i weep more. god, Declan, god.

there’s so much i could say about just Declan alone. there’s so much i could say about the whole series but this is ridiculously long as it is. i didn’t even get to mention the John Wick-style MASSACRE Declan unleashed in the Fairy Market because of how fucking wrecked he was about Matthew and how desperate he was to wake Ronan.  the essays one could write about Declan Lynch, man.

and i need an entire BLOG dedicated to all the callbacks and easter eggs in Greywaren that reference something from the other six books. i stg only half of the pages in Greywaren were original content an the rest was an amalgamation of quotes from the rest of the series. i felt so insane frantically flipping through like BLLB to find the quote of Ronan dreaming “a piece of Cabeswater, a dream” and having that mind-bending piece of a dream pop up in the Greywaren epilogue. shit like THAT made me feel like a mad scholar just tearing through the other books to find that specific references and parallels like that. Genius writing. so much fun.

i’m gonna cut it short here, though. i will probably have much more to say and will be saying it in smaller chunks as time goes on, i have no idea if any of these opinions are commonplace or Hot Takes, but i’m interested to see what the fandom thinks about Greywaren.

so yeah. Greywaren thoughts! the end.

[tiesthatbind-tf]

“How much pain have you been carrying all alone? And how much loneliness is hidden behind your eyes when you smile?"

An enduring enigma to his team mates from both sides of the battlefield, Dai Takahiro does his best to make amends for a bloody past, even if no one save a few put any stock into his sincerity about turning away from the life of a mercenary.

Which suits him absolutely fine, he’ll tell anyone suggesting otherwise—-he isn’t doing it for them, he knows he’s hurt people and doesn’t expect acceptance.

Just a chance to make things right.

(More under the cut!)

Dai started out his life in Japan as an orphan after he was given away by a father too young for the responsibility and grew up in foster homes for most of his childhood. While these humble beginnings might have relegated unwanted children to a future life as faceless manual workers at the bottom of the hierarchy, he proved to be an athletically-gifted child who excelled on the track, a talent government scouts couldn’t ignore. He was drafted as an ‘early pick’ to be trained in a sports academy to represent the country in the Olympics when he came of age, and he built all of his dreams for his future on that prospect. He blazed the track and was given the name ‘Drift’ by his coach, Goro Katsuo, due to his skill at navigating bends as though he was drifting past them, winning race after race in his home country.

Determination and dedication however, were no match for a hit and run incident a year before he was slated to take part in the Olympic Games, which badly damaged his legs. While reconstructive surgery gave him back the ability to stand, he walked with limp, suffered from chronic pain and could no longer run. 

Goro, having seen Dai as his adopted son by this point elected to help the young man get treatment to allow him to run once more, as Dai had nothing else. The search for said treatment took an emotional and monetary toll on the two of them and as the Olympics loomed close, Dai saw his spot replaced by another athlete.

Promising Dai that he would be able to join the next Olympics in four years, Goro took him to England to further pursue treatment there; When his money ran out, he found menial work in the Dead End for them to live on and save up for an experimental treatment.

Dai also took on whatever odd jobs were available given his lack of a formal education; however, he had become disillusioned and heavily dependent on painkillers to function in a daily basis. He took to petty theft to feed the growing addiction without Goro’s knowledge, not wanting to burden his mentor and father figure further nor admit weakness, and would often be found roaming the streets.

On one such occasion, he was rescued by Omar Parvez (Orion Pax) from thugs who had beat him senseless and tried to steal his wages when he overdosed on painkillers on a particularly bad day. It was only a trip to Ronan Chase’s (Ratchet) free clinic that saved him, and he spent several weeks at Ronan’s clinic healing from his injuries and striking up a friendship with the doctor, who he tried to help out around the premises as well as he could.  He grew to admire Ronan’s work for the forgotten of Dead End, and after Ronan found out about his circumstances, Ronan elected to perform surgery on him pro bono to get rid of the chronic pain and help him walk without a limp again. 

By this time, his faraway Olympic dreams had been replaced by one closer to earth; Helping out the good doctor and the Dead End, and he was over the moon when Ratchet happily agreed to take him on as an aide

Excited about his new prospects, he returned to the Dead End to look for Goro, who he found attempting to stop two policemen from brutalizing a petty thief . When Goro was accidentally shot by one the cops who immediately tried to cover their tracks rather than call for help (leading to Goro’s death), he killed them. Their partner escaped however, and he knew this made him a wanted man, which forced him to go underground to stay off the radar. He kept his distance from Ronan to protect the doctor, having seen Ronan being interrogated by policemen for potentially shielding and treating fugitives. 

In the darkness, he formed bonds with low and mid-level criminals whom paid him to become their scout, then their runner, then a guard, and when he had gotten into enough fights to learn how to win them and made it clear that he hated cops more than he feared them, a hitman for hire.

It was about this time that ‘Towards Peace’ by Morgan Trayton (Megatron) began to spread through the underground publishing network and while now jaded and cynical to the world, for a moment Dai felt that hope for a better world flash again and remembered the doctor that had saved his life for free in the clinic ages ago. Remembered what was said about how his determination and dedication were his real assets.

What better place to put those assets to use than in a rising revolution?

[oddsconvert]

1, 3, 11, 21

From this ask game!

1. which ocs are the most touch-starved?

They mostly all get touch, its just not very pleasant touch for a lot of them. But I'd say mainly Declan; who craves some comforting touch from someone he trusts right now and Izaak - who doesn't really know affection, or get kind touch.

3. which ocs can, and do, go days without sleeping?

Henley. But not by choice, I've mentioned here and there than when given the chance - Izaak will scream, shout and bang all night, for the sole purpose of keeping Henley up and nothing more. Henley will stay up for nights on end until he nearly hallucinates and passes out.

11. which ocs have to be reminded to take breaks?

Felix and Ronan: in the sense of they both get too overexcited and too brutal when hurting/torturing their Whumpee's that they nearly take it to the point of no return - they gotta take breaks in between and let themselves cool down (and let their poor captives recover and breathe omg)

21. which ocs have the most physical strength? which have the least?

Vince: vampire strength is a bitch, he could pummel Declan into the concrete if he wanted to and not even bust a sweat. But in terms of human OC's, then Ronan is the strongest out of the bunch.

Henley has the least physical strength, he's so malnourished, weak and feeble - a strong gust of wind would probably knock him off his feet.

[thinkatoryprocess]

fwiw i'm still thinking about greywaren roman lol

It has so much promise! I mean, look at what Ronan Lynch had to deal with considering his psychological issues and being a Greywaren; Roman dealing with physical abuse and maybe worse could have some seriously nightmarish shit going on. I love the idea of him creating Kendall as he is because - well, Kendall is kind of harmless, right, unless pushed. Roman just dreamed about wanting someone in his life who he knew wouldn't hurt him, and boom. Roman knowing he wanted, needed Kendall, would be closer this time, if still fucked up about the weakness of needing anyone at all.

Logan would struggle with Roman, fucking Roman being given this kind of power, and try to buckle down and make him into someone who "won't fuck it up." But Logan doesn't know how to do that without causing more damage. Roman at some point would have to realize he actually wields a lot of power in this - he runs away after manifesting the keys to one of the cars at one point, for example - but it's equally set off by how dangerous it can be to have a Greywaren with psychological issues like his, with what he can manifest from his nightmares. At some point, Roman hears Logan talking to Caroline about whether or not they need to put him down.

[catboynecromancy]

Kissing prompts day 3, given to me by the wonderful @creativefiend19. Thank you so much for this one, I loved writing about their first date. 💕 Do I get the extra points for making it in canon verse? 😊

Pynch — An awkward kiss given after a first date.

-

So, how about a date night, Parrish?

This is the question that started it all. Adam had been in the middle of homework for his Interpretation and Application of Mathematics course, unable to hold back his groans and sighs of frustration, while Ronan bounced a Spongebob ball against the wall. At one point in time, Adam would have found this distracting, but now it’s become so commonplace it melts into the background along with the buzzing of his miniature fridge and the ticking of a clock on the wall.

“So,” Ronan says after a while, pausing his incessant fidgeting. “How about a date night, Parrish?”

Adam takes a moment to glare down at the paper, his overworked brain screaming for something to break the monotony and stress building with each passing minute. He’s been at this for hours now and he thinks, if he keeps going, it’ll probably be counterintuitive to getting anything else done.

So.

Date night.

“You want to go on a date? With me?” Adam asks, turning in his old, wobbly wooden chair to glance back at Ronan where he sits on the bed, black, ripped-up jean-covered legs spread out in front of him.

Ronan shrugs, an attempt at being nonchalant but failing miserably. “It’s been weeks since we started dating,” there’s a weird bite to the word when he replies, wiggling his Doc Martens. “We haven’t even been on a real date.”

His mouth opens to respond but Ronan quickly interrupts, “And making out in the BMW doesn’t count, ya horny bastard.”

And promptly snaps shut with an audible click. “Okay,” Adam says, giving a slight nod. “What were you thinking?”

“Dinner. A movie. Taking a long, romantic drive through the countryside,” he continues in a teasing tone, “Promise I’ll get you back at a decent time.”

It doesn’t sound like the most remarkable of ideas, no different from things they would normally do, but something about it changes when the word date is attached. All of a sudden, what they’re doing is too real, no longer just two horny teenagers giving into each other’s visceral desires, and Adam isn’t certain how he feels about this when it crosses the line between physical vulnerability into the emotional side.

But it’s Ronan and there’s no one Adam trusts to hold his heart in their hands more than him, even if he’s loath to admit it.

So he leaves his grueling coursework and they go on a date. Ronan takes him to Nino’s (Really, Lynch?), where they toss fries into each other’s mouths, laughing maniacally every time they miss (which is more often than not, admittedly). They find a dumb action movie to watch at the theater a town over, stuffing their faces with the plethora of sugary snacks Ronan purchases at the concessions stand, laughing more at how inane the film is.

Then, they climb into the BMW, and Ronan puts on an impossibly dark and sultry beat, the bass throbbing in time with Adam’s pulse. The whole atmosphere changes, the creature of wants and needs inside of Adam clawing to get out. He wants Ronan to pull over on the side of the empty street; he needs to crawl on Ronan’s lap and claim every part of him mercilessly, with abandon, until there’s nothing left to give.

Instead, when Ronan pulls over, he hops out before Adam can do anything and demands that he drive them back to St. Agnes. Adam thinks of protesting but, if he can’t have Ronan, the next best thing is getting to drive the BMW. So he does this, making sure to shift gears with careful consideration and intimacy, treating her like he would a lover. Or, well, maybe not, since the way he handles Ronan is often not so cautious with his touch.

They get back after midnight and park in the church lot, climbing out of the car. “Decent time my ass, Lynch,” Adam says. “Wanna come up?”

Ronan shakes his head, stepping around the BMW, edging nearer until they’re so close, Adam feels the warmth pulsing off of him in great contrast to the chilly, autumn air. “Nah. I don’t put out on the first date.”

Adam rolls his eyes but leans in for a kiss. His parted lips hit Ronan’s cheek and he pulls away, blinking, to look at Ronan. He’s turned, dark eyebrows drawn in, uncharacteristically nervous in a moment that should be simple and easy, like all the other times their mouths have met.

What’s so different about this?

“Uh…” It’s Ronan’s turn to try, but Adam’s taken a step back and he misses.

They hesitate, mumble excuses, attempting at the same time only to make it inches away before they both pull back. Adam feels a hot, anxious flush build in his cheeks that crawls up to his ears, and Ronan’s pale features have darkened as well, apparent even with just the flickering streetlight illuminating them in bursts.

“Fuck,” Ronan mutters, “Try again.”

Adam gives himself a moment to consider what is so dissimilar about this from every other time. Maybe, he thinks, it’s more real than the rest. It’s weird, how things change, when feelings are laid bare and actual romance is involved.

This Ronan isn’t the one who just wants to make out endlessly, this is the Ronan who cares, who Adam is pretty sure is in love with him. Who Adam, although still not wholly convinced, thinks he can fall in love with, too. Soon. Maybe sooner than he intends.

“Okay.”

He cups his hands around the sides of Ronan’s throat, brushing a thumb along the very faintly risen skin where pointed, black imagery has been etched in. Ronan takes a hitching, shaky breath, all nerves in the shape of a teenage boy, and Adam pauses to allow them both a second to bask in a rare instance of shared weakness.

When he bridges the distance, pressing chapped lips together in an awkward, chaste kiss, there’s a spark of something that Adam recognizes from the first time they did this in Ronan’s childhood bedroom. The gesture is returned, but just so. Ronan is shaking, or Adam is, or maybe it’s both of them. Heat spills from Ronan’s mouth into his own, lightning courses through Adam’s pumping blood, sending dangerous shocks straight to his heart. All that anchors him to this miniscule, human form is the boy before him.

Adam wants, he needs, and yet he realizes it might be okay to take things slow for both their sakes. He pulls away but not far, jittery with equal parts apprehension and excitement. “Sure you don’t want to come up?”

It’s Ronan who breaks their connection, stepping back to look at the pavement beneath their feet, it's cracks brimming with slowly dying plants. He palms his buzzed scalp, shifting back and forth. “Not tonight,” Ronan says. “I...got some shit I gotta do in the morning.”

He recognizes a Lynch not-lie-not-truth when it's given. Carefully skirting the truth but not outright lying, a compromise that doesn’t betray his earnestness.

“Okay, I’ll seeya later.” Adam doesn’t push, even if a part of him wants to.

“Yeah, later.”

Ronan is almost at the driver’s side door when Adam finally gets the nerve to say what he should have much earlier. “Ronan?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks. For the date. I really needed a break.”

Deep-set, ice blue eyes shift towards Adam, an intensity to them that is quickly broken by a wide and goofy grin. It’s one for Adam’s eyes only, more defenseless than anything else they’ve done this night. “No problem, Parrish. Someone’s gotta keep you from melting your magnificent brain with all that boring homework.”

Adam nods. They leave it at that because there’s nothing left to say. He watches Ronan effortlessly drop into his M6, watches as he caresses the steering wheel in a way Adam wishes was him, watches the red tail lights as they speed out of the St. Agnes lot and down the street, and he watches even once Ronan is long gone and only the memory of him remains painted there, an afterimage of his wants and needs personified.

With a sigh, Adam runs his hand over his face, letting a few curses learned from Ronan spill from his lips.

It had been almost too good of a night.

Maybe love isn’t as far away of a concept as Adam had assumed.

[anika-ann]

Of Thieves and Queens of Hearts (B.B.)

Type: Reader-insert , SEQUEL TO Of Jewels and Gems               

Word count: 2860

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Medieval AU with thief!Bucky and princess!reader.

You and Bucky ‘meet’ again - is it fate or something more? And what should you do now, when you crossed paths again?

Warnings: mention of arranged marriage and blood, tears and stuff, angst and fluff

A/N: There were quite a few people who asked about a sequel and since the prompts was ‘I snuck in the castle to steal the royal crown but I’m stealing you instead au’, it only felt right to write this 😊

Of Jewels and Gems (previous part)

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Your mind was wandering, gone to a faraway land, far from the present moment for you were not particularly fond of the present.

The bumps on the road didn’t cease to shake the carriage for long moments now, gravel crunching under the wheels and hoofs, the cracking, occasional snorting of the horses, and your own breathing the only sounds keeping you company.

You had forgone interest in the landscape a long time ago, not bothering to revel at the scenery of the lands despite the curtains being open, and while no fabric was shielding the interior of the carriage from the outside light, with the sun slowly setting down, you were engulfed in a comforting gloom.

Too lost to your musings about the future, you missed the shadow lurking around your carriage – until a figure jumped right in through the modest window, causing a yelp gather in your throat in fright.

Before you could release a single sound to alert the coachman and the two guards riding in front of your vehicle, a warm calloused palm covered your mouth, muffling your scream.

All too familiar silver-blue irises twinkled even in the half-lit space, space that suddenly felt cramped.

Your sounds of protest died in your chest, where your heart had challenged your carriage to a duel in speed, beating faster than the hoofs of the horses carrying you towards your fate – whether the fright or the excitement was to blame, you weren’t able to tell.

You stared into the face of a cheeky man you hadn’t seen for almost six months and strangely a man whom you found yourself missing.

His palm reluctantly retreated, smug smile spreading the precious ruby lips as if wishing to irk you right from the beginning – as if the fact alone that he had assaulted you in your allegedly safe space wasn’t outrageous enough.

“Hi, Princess,” Winter said lowly, eyes roaming all over you face, observant and somewhat content.

Your fingers gripped at your skirts as his head appeared to be in scandalous proximity of yours – tempting proximity, but you couldn’t even dare to think that, let alone say it out loud. The interior suddenly felt too hot.

“What in Heavens are you doing here?” you demanded in hushed voice, torn between exasperated and… pleased. There was a strange warmth blooming in your chest and you couldn’t even begin to examine where it had come from.

“Told ya’ I’ll be back for the real jewel,” he smirked, the startlingly red lips peeking from under his beard.

‘Next time… I’m stealin’ the real crown jewel, Your Highness,’ echoed in your ears, an old promise he had given you right before… right before his lips had caressed your cheek.

Daring bastard!

And again, here he was, cheeky as ever, as if nothing could hurt him, free as a bird he could never be caged, only here to tempt you and mock you, no doubt about to tease you about your future.

“How—how dare you! Leave, now!”

His lips pursed, an adorable pout twisting it, eyes turning to ones of a child who just realized their parents didn’t bring any presents from their travels.

“Why?”

Why?

As if an explanation was needed! As if his mere presence in your carriage wasn’t a great offence! As if—as if he hadn’t played with your heart, made a promise and suddenly been in the wind!

“You- you’re a thief and a- a player and-and an outlaw-!” you hissed, managing to stutter marvellously in your indignation. “And I cannot be seen with another man in such close quarters to begin with for I am to be wed soon!”

The corner of Winter’s lips turned downward, his expression clouding further and all of sudden, you felt like the sunset truly had started, stealing all light from the world, and the warmth in your chest seemed to burn cold.

Why were you sad because of this man’s obvious sulking? What he was supposed to be to you, but a confusing memory? What was he even doing here with you?

“Yeah, I heard. I betcha’re all happy ‘bout it,” he noted with generous amount of sarcasm, causing your heart to skip a beat while his eyes never ceased to observe you, as if your face was an open book for him to read.

You attempted to fix your features to ones of a future queen and wife-to-be you were. A responsible crown princess, caring for the good of her people – for that was who you were and should you wed a man twice almost three times you age for it… so be it.

“What—eh- of course I am.”

A woman who was to become a queen one day was meant to be pampered, provided excellent education in both the world’s knowledge and manners and raised outside the filthiness of common people; however, there were always to be cracks in the foundation, little slips, little words you should not know but you did.

‘Bullshit’ was one of those words, as both as a noun and a verb.

The way Winter was watching you at the moment told you with startling obviousness that he thought you were bullshitting him.

So you stuck out your chin in defiance, hoping to sound convincing – to Winter, to yourself. Perhaps should you say it over and over, you shall believe it.

“I am happy to marry King Ronan should it bring together our kingdoms.”

“Mm,” the handsome thief hummed doubtfully, lightly shaking his head, causing the short loose ponytail he wore swing. “Don’t believe ya’. I think ‘dat if I told ya’ ya’ can run with me right now, you’d come.”

Heat rose to your cheeks in shame for he was horribly close to the truth. To cover your shame, you chuckled affectively as if he said the most ridiculous thing you had ever heard in your life. “Aren’t you a funny man!”

His eyebrows rose, losing themselves in his hairline for a moment. “I prefer handsome, but I guess ‘dat’ll do too. So… ya’ comin’?”

All you managed was to stutter an incomprehensible streak of words.

“’dat a yes?” he questioned with a smile, just a fraction shy and very much teasing.

You crossed your arms on your chest and looked away from the beautiful face that was somehow still mere inches from yours – unable to bear the gaze that seemed to burning through your very being and staring right into your soul and seeing the truth you were trying to hide.

You had to marry King Ronan. That was your duty as a crown princess, to bring peace and wealth to your kingdom, even if you should suffer in an unhappy marriage. People did not enter such holy union for love and attraction – no, marriage was a thought-through act of diplomacy.

Who should care for your well-being? Staying alive and serving your people was the truest and greatest reward you could earn.

Of course, you could not say that to Winter, who for whichever reasons refused to leave the topic alone and decided to create your personal hell by tempting you, attempting to lead you astray.

“Why should I, the princess, want to escape with you?” you scoffed defensively and he backed out, leaning to the opposite side of the carriage so swiftly as if he had been burned.

And then he pursed his lips again; but his gaze turned serious, no traces of the previous jests.

“’Cause I can keep ya’ safe and you’ll escape the possibility of dying at your future husband’s hand. Word’s goin’ ‘round… ‘dat he beat his first wife to death. Cheats and kills. Scumbag of a man, really-“

You chuckled bitterly, eyeing him from head to toe sceptically to put out the fire of fear lit inside your belly. He spoke the truth – these were the tales spread about the King all over the Seven Kingdoms and try as you might, you could not pretend to be that brave. Yet, you could not allow yourself a moment of weakness and display such – you were a future queen.

“And I should believe that you are any better? You’re a thi-“

“-thief, yeah, yeah, I didn’t forget ‘bout ‘dat, doll,” he interrupted rudely; nonetheless, a true concern casted shadows over his eyes, forming a worried crease between his brows. “But when I heard ‘bout the marriage… with him, I had to come runnin’ for ya’. I can’t stand the thought of ya’ getting’ hurt or worse.”

A sudden lump grew in your throat as you found yourself taken aback by his care – and moved. He was no one but a stranger and yet, not even your father had expressed such concern for your well-being when you had been leaving the castle with an enormous chest in the back of the carriage, hiding your multiple possessions.

Tears burned in your eyes and you fought to keep them at bay and find your voice, charming a gentle smile for the handsome thief who seemed to steal another piece of your heart by the minute.

“A sweet sentiment that might be, however unacceptable.”

He leaned forward again, gently taking a hold of your hands, engulfing them in his calloused and yet soft ones entirely. A unvoluntary pleasant shiver ran up your spine at the intimate gesture.

“Why?” he questioned quietly, gaze hopeful and shining with honesty, perhaps with a drop of mischief. “Ya’ like me too, I can tell.”

Laughter erupted from your throat and you had to quickly slip one hand from his to muffle the unexpected sound. Tears sprung from your eyes at last, a blend of humour and grief.

“You must be the cheekiest man I have ever met!” you whispered, shaking your head.

He truly was. He was also one of the kindest and most handsome ones – and the only one your heart ever beat for.

“Thanks, doll. But really… come with me,” he pleaded with urgency you would not have expected, let alone from a man you had barely spent few moments with. “Should I get on my knees and beg? I’ll beg-“

He released your hand and went to fall on his knees indeed, not wary at all of the limited space of the carriage.

On instinct, you swiftly grabbed his arm in hopes to keep him in place with a panicked ‘no!’ on your lips.

You shook your head again, this time soberly, when he tenderly manipulated your hand on him to bring it to his lips, gracing the back of it with a brief kiss.

It was an difficult task to attempt to resist his charm, one worth of a future queen, nearly impossible – you could have swoon right at the moment, no doubt ending up in his protective arms should you lose your balance.

Nevertheless, you must have remained rational about this.

“I cannot escape. Even if we could manage such daring thing, we would never be safe. We would have only prolonged the inevitable and the punishment-” your breath hitched as you were staring into the gentle orbits of his, still watching you intently, ”-punishment for you and for my insolence would be great.”

The corners of his lips raised in a minute smile as if you weren’t talking about the inevitable deaths that awaited you both should you take him upon his suggestion.  

“Ya’ worried ‘bout me, doll?”

You supposed he took notice of your exasperated look, however he chose to ignore it and smiled wider, causing you to chuckle through your tears.

He surely was insane— and yet, here you were, nodding minutely, confirming your concern for him for you wished that his smile lightened the carriage further… and that it did.

“Don’t. I have a safe place to come back to, always.”

You felt your eyebrow jump in surprise, genuinely taken a back. Was he pulling your leg now?

“Oh, do you, Winter?”

He frowned and nuzzled the back of your hand.

“It’s Bucky,” he mumbled.

For all your astonishment on learning his true name, you still couldn’t resist caressing his face; his whiskers felt softer than you had expected and you hadn’t anticipated his eyes to flutter shut, a sound resembling a purr vibrating in his chest.

“Suits you better,” you smiled sadly, still in battle which you were slowly losing as Bucky seemed to be prepared to convince you no matter the cost. His kindness and faith had your heart swell in your chest, however—you couldn’t. Could you? No. No the risks were too high and you had a duty to fulfil. “I wish you a long good life, Bucky.”

“Ya’ could live it with me. Please? I promise, I- uhm, King Steven of Brooklin owes me a favour.”

“King Steven of Brooklin?” you repeated, turning entirely sceptical. Now he truly was only spinning a tale. “You certainly are funny.”

“Mock me all ya’ want, Jewel mine,” he shrugged and kissed your palm for a good measure, as if he hadn’t had your heart stuttering constantly already. “But he does. I was able to help his beloved escape from the clutches of HYDRA.”

“Wh-is-- is that so?”

You had heard rumours – of a mysterious man aiding the future queen of Brooklin, of a spy within the HYDRA castle’s wall perhaps – nonetheless, not even in your wildest dreams you would dare to imagine Bucky was the fabled one.  

“Yeah. I saw a miserable to-be queen Margaret and helped her run,” Winter—Bucky shrugged nonchalantly again, dismissing the heroic act. “We met the king in the near woods, he was gettin’ all ‘let’s cut off some heads’ to free her. It was kinda funny actually, when he found out who I was.”

It sounded like he spoke the true… however, you couldn’t seem to shush the suspicious voice in your head, challenging you to ask further questions.

“…what could have you been doing at such place to begin with?”

Cocky. His smile and the raise to his brows only could be described as cocky.

“Ya’ keep sayin’ ‘dat I’m a thief, so…. Ya’ tell me.”

Of course. Of course, naturally. He had snuck in to steal.

Your lips pressed into a thin line upon that realization – nevertheless, you couldn’t force yourself to be mad at him for his nature. After all, it appeared that there was much more to learn about him and it couldn’t all be bad if what he had revealed so far was anything to go by. And who were you to judge, yourself born into privilege?

If anything, he clearly could have been responsible for a woman being alive – and you had never heard about a heist that would end with a single man dead whenever the gossipers whispered about Winter and his visits to the royal treasuries.

And yet, doubts were still playing with your head, rightfully so.

“And I should simply trust you that King Steven, a man famed for his good heart and ultimate belief in justice, approves of your choice of livelihood?” you couldn’t but ask.

“He tolerates it. He knows I steal from the richest and some of it goes to the poorest.”

…oh.

“It… it does?” you stuttered, almost embarrassed at your loss of composure.

Bucky, the infamous thief was doing an excellent work again, claiming your heart altogether. You had simply believed that he was an outlaw, a thug, a thief, a molester maybe—but how could you hope to resist his charms upon learning this?

He had been helping the poor? Such action surely was more than you had ever done… perhaps he was a better person that you could ever-

“Yeah,” he confirmed with a grin, cocking his head to side, visibly content that he impressed you. For once, you couldn’t argue with him for you truly were enamoured with his kindness. “But from now on, I can only take for you. For us. To give ya’ all stuff ya’ deserve, Jewel. Just say the word. Come with me.”

The silence sounded deafening to your ears and Bucky appeared to feel the need to fill it with grasping your hands gently, once again gracing them with reverential kisses. The affection chased more tears into your eyes as you tried to breathe through them and not let them escape anymore… failing.

Yes, the silence was deafening, felt suffocating and heavy on your chest, but you could feel like you were able to breathe again when a calloused fingertip wiped at your tears with tenderness.

You wondered… could he hear the last of your resolve not to be selfish crumble to the ground?

“Do you…” you whispered, voice unladylike hoarse due to the lump in your throat, “…do you truly believe that we would find refuge in Brooklin?”

The proclaimed topazes of his eyes glimmered with their silver lining, ruby lips you had fallen in love with spreading in a genuine wide smile as he nodded, delighted.

“Yeah. I do. Do ya’ trust me?”

“Gods help me, I do…” you sighed, giddiness battling with nerves as you smiled back at him. “Very well, Bucky, Winter the thief. Let’s run away to Brooklin.”

And for all you had thought his face was precious as all the jewels and gemstones of your kingdom, it was the smile he graced you with upon your yes, shining with the power of a thousand suns, that you found worth the world’s greatest fortune.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

B.B. masterlist (…yes, it’s that short)

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Ugh. Not as cheeky as the previous one, but hopefully the sweetness made up for it :-* 

Thank you for reading and special thanks to you, who encouraged me to write this sequel ♥ I’m glad I did ;)

[joezworld]

Fools in Love (5/10)

James And The Diesel Engine

1978

When 46 040 had declared that she would become friends with James, nobody in the sheds had really believed it.

James was vain, occasionally pompous, and immensely suspicious of diesel traction. It was a minor miracle that Bear and BoCo had been accepted by him, and Gordon speculated that it was due to the fact that neither engine was in a role that would displace the red engine.

040 on the other wheel, was in direct competition with him - right down to her shiny red paint. The big diesel had been eager to prove her worth, and had gladly accepted any work that the Fat Controller had given her. This meant that for most of the past year, there had been two red mixed traffic engines on Sodor.

Naturally, James was quite upset by this - he felt that he was being supplanted instead of supported, and tried valiantly to make 040 go away.

Unfortunately for James, 040 was determined to make a friend out of him, and treated him and everyone else with an almost impenetrable level of charm and good cheer that soon ingratiated herself with the other engines.

“She is of good stock.” Gordon said when she came up in discussion.

“A hard worker” was Duck’s assessment.

“Aye, if more diesels were like ‘er, the other railway would work a treat!” This from Douglas - high praise considering his well established and totally understandable dislike of diesels.

When he first met 040, he’d growled at her to ‘stay away’, and after a moment’s reflection, she’d apologized.

“What MPD were you at?” She’d asked after he’d growled at her.

“Glasgow - Eastfield.” He’d replied after a confused moment.

“Yeah, that figures.” She sighed ruefully. “I’m sorry, by the way. They only had enough of the “I hate steam engine” bits for the 45s, so us 46s and 44s never quite understood why everyone was so eager to replace you. Well, everyone except Spamcan, but he’s an arse to everyone.”

“Aye?” Douglas was very surprised.

“Of course. We tried to make them be nice - they certainly didn’t need to be so vicious about it - but once they know you care - well, it’s said that you can smell weakness in someone’s exhaust, so we weren’t treated much better than you were.”

“I... had no idea. Do they truly do that? There’s no’ even unity amongst diesels?”

“Not a whit. At least, not in the Midlands. Don’t worry though - they’re getting what’s coming to them. All three of us Peak classes are ‘non-standard’ now, so they’ll see what it’s like to be on the wrong side of progress soon enough.” Her tone was not light, but neither was it overly dark. She clearly had private opinions on the subject that she wanted to keep private. 

Douglas stared at the big diesel with newfound respect.

James soon found himself in the minority of opinions about 040. His resolve began to waver when she would cheerfully keep her composure even in the midst of a heated argument.

“You’re wrong and I can prove it!”

“How?”

“You haven’t got a boiler! You wouldn’t understand what boiler sludge feels like!”

“Ah! That’s where you’re wrong my steam-powered friend! I do have a boiler - for steam heating! I know exactly what boiler sludge feels like!”

“Cinders and Ashes you are impossible! Why are you so cheerful?!”

“I like arguing with you Jamie, it’s fun!”

“Jamie??!”

-----

One morning, the Fat Controller arrived in the sheds with some important news:

“The Thin Clergyman and his son will be visiting the island once again!” He declared cheerfully.

The engines were surprised. “I thought that he had retired from writing?” Gordon said.

“He has,” explained the Fat Controller. “But his son has decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and will be writing books of his own.”

Most of the engines were excited, but 040 was decidedly not. As soon as the Fat Controller left, her face fell into an uncharacteristic scowl. “I am not appearing in those fucking books.” She said menacingly.

This was arguably more surprising than the news of the Thin Clergyman’s arrival.

“Whyever not?” Asked Henry, who was quite pleased to have stories written about him.

“None of you know this,” She grimaced. “But the only more damaging thing than those books was the fucking Beeching Report! When he wrote about that 08 that tried to cause trouble for Duck, he might as well have thrown a bomb into every yard in the country! Everyone was either saying that we diesels were evil masterminds or that steam engines were idiotic dupes! There was zero civility between engines! Friendships ended! Lives were ruined! Locomotives were scrapped over this! I wasn’t even built then and I still have been forced to deal with it!”

She laughed at the jaw-dropped stares of the other engines. None of them had been on the mainland at that time, and they had no idea of the trouble that had gone on.

“And then there’s one-nine-nine! That nincompoop has gotten every one of us Peaks called a Spamcan! And that’s impressive considering there’s three different classes of us! I didn’t even know what Spam was before that book!”

Silence fell over the sheds for a good while.

“I had no idea...” Gordon eventually said in a small voice.

“I know.” 040 said as she slowly regained her cheery demeanor. “And that’s okay. But I really do not want to be in the books.”

“What’s this about books?” James had been out on an early stopper train, and had missed everything.

“Oh nothing Jamie, do you want to have an argument?”

“No! and stop calling me that!”

“Great! So I think we are actually having an argument right now, but what’s your take on it...?”

-----

The Thin Clergyman arrived onboard Gordon’s express, and was given a warm welcome by the Fat Controller at Tidmouth. Fortunately for 040, Gordon had been able to pass the word on with an earlier train, and she was able to flee the station before the author arrived.

The next week of her life was not unlike a scene from the Benny Hill Show - wherever 040 went, the Thin Clergyman and his son followed.

She ran a parcels train to Barrow - the Thin Clergyman was waiting on the next platform,

She hid behind the Works, only to find his Son riding on Skarloey’s footplate,

At Haltraugh she tried to hide behind Duck - with exactly as much success as one would expect,

The two men starting interviewing engines in the shed, and she was forced to hide amongst the coaches in the yard,

Thomas’ driver unexpectedly fell ill at Tidmouth, and she leapt at the chance to take his train - despite being longer than Annie and Clarabel put together! She made it as far as Elsbridge before curious trainspotters began flocking to take her picture, and she beat a hasty retreat to the main line just before the Clergyman arrived,

The engines at the Kirk Ronan branch were quite annoyed when she tried to squeeze into their shed - she was so big that the door wouldn’t shut!

Planned track work meant that one of the Ballahoo tunnels was closed, and she bluffed her way onto the work train so she could sleep in it. This was an effective hiding spot, until she told Henry, who laughed so loudly that the Thin Clergyman heard the entire story from across the yard,

She even tried sleeping in the electric branch sheds at Peel Godred, but was not only glared at by the very antisocial locomotives who lived there, but also had to hide from both the Thin Clergyman and His Son when they came to see the Culdee Fell Railway.

Finally, there was nowhere left to run - she had managed to find all of these hiding spots while still doing her jobs, but today she was the ‘relief’ engine at Knapford, which meant that she had to sit in the yard all day in case another engine failed.

In full view of the station building.

At midday,  James bustled in with a load of vans for Thomas’ branch line.

“What are you so anxious about?” He asked 040 with a mixture of scorn and surprise. The annoying red diesel was looking positively frantic as her eyes scanned the station building. It was most unlike her.

“Jamie! Hide me!” She hissed as James’ driver uncoupled the vans.

“What?”

“Hide me! Quickly!”

“Why?”

“The Clergyman! He’s right there in the station!”

James looked over, and sure enough, the Thin Clergyman and his son were sitting down to lunch in the station café. “Why?”

“Because he might write something about me!” 040 was frantic.

James was baffled, but remembered Gordon mentioning something about some engines not wanting to be written about. He’d assumed that Edward was just being introverted again, but perhaps there was more to it than that...

He was tempted to do the exact opposite - to blow his whistle, attract attention, and pay back the loudmouth diesel for all of her arguments and nicknames, but when he looked back at her, he realized that 040 was frightened of the Thin Clergyman.

James was many things, but sadistic wasn’t one of them, and he ran around his train and shunted the vans so that 040 was almost entirely obscured from sight.

“Thank you!” She whispered as he backed away.

“Keep it dark,”  He hissed back. “I have a reputation to uphold. And I’ll try and draw his attention to me so he doesn’t go looking for you.”

“Shouldn’t be too much of a problem for you.” She said with a small smile. “You always are the centre of attention!”

James smiled back as he backed into the yard proper, doing his best to make as much noise as he could until he came to a stop at the far end of the yard - as far away from 040 as possible.

His plan worked flawlessly. The Clergyman and his son had been so engrossed in their meal that they hadn’t noticed that any engine was there at all, and quickly made their way across the yard.

Unlike 040, James was always pleased to have someone write about him, and spent the better part of an hour answering the Clergyman’s questions.

“There was one other thing I wanted to know, James.” The Clergyman’s son said after a while. “We’ve been told that there’s a new diesel on the Island, but we can’t seem to find him anywhere!”

“Her.” James corrected before he could stop himself.

“Her?”

In for a penny, in for a pound. “Yes. She’s a girl, and she’s quite shy.”

“Really?” The Clergyman said as he scribbled in his notebook. “Can you tell me about her? Or where she is?”

“I don’t want to talk about anyone behind their back...” James said, knowing exactly how often he did just that. “But I saw her going to the works a few hours ago. You might be able to find her there and ask her yourself.”

This pleased the Clergyman and his Son, and they immediately set off in their hire car for the works. James waited until they had vanished from sight before he called out: “They’re gone!”

“Thank God!” 040 shouted from across the yard.

“Don’t thank him! Thank me!” James called back.

“Thank you James! Really, I owe you one now.” James couldn’t see the diesel, but he could somehow tell that she was smiling.

----

040′s luck finally ran out on the last day of the Clergyman’s trip. She was rostered to pull the night express, and didn’t realize that the Thin Clergyman was going to be on board. She almost jumped off the rails when she saw him climbing the stairs to the platform, she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding when he entered the train, and her face fell when she realized that he was merely putting away his luggage before he got out of the train and walked up to her.

“Hello there! I haven’t seen you before!” He said jovially while admiring her paint and stripes.

“I’m new.” She said, trying to keep her tone somewhat polite. The ugly anger rising in the pit of her engine block was making that a very hard thing to do.

“I can see that - you have been quite hard to find!”

“Have I?”

“Very much so, but nevermind that. I was wondering if you would be willing to let myself and my son write about you? You see, we write books abou-”

“I know what your books are about.”

“Oh you do?” The Thin Clergyman said, not missing the sudden undertone in the diesel’s voice.

“Oh yes. And I’m not even talking about Spamcan.” She smiled viciously as the Thin Clergyman winced at that reference.

“Yes, well-”

“I’m not done. I'm talking about the other book you wrote. About the 08? The one that got more than a few engines killed?”

“What?” The author recoiled at the now-undisguised venom in 040′s voice.

“Of course you don’t know. You don’t care about diesels, just your precious steam engines.” She glared at him with undisguised malice. “Do me a favor - take that notebook and go fuck yourself with it - I will never be in one of your books.”

As she said that, the signal dropped, and the guard - who couldn’t see the Clergyman due to a porter’s trolley in the way - blew his whistle.

040 set off immediately, leaving the Thin Clergyman standing on the platform, taking his baggage with her.

-

When the Clergyman’s son started publishing his books several years later, 040 was nowhere to be seen in any of them.