#So the five families are sending their youngest and brightest

[raspberryluvr]

Shoutout to y’all who actually GET Riverdale… it’s a harsh and judgemental world out there and everyone on this site who understands the true genius of Riverdale helps me feel vindicated. for that I thank u.

[danikamariewrites]

My North Star

Cassian x reader

Summary: You and your siblings represent the eight points of your father, King Astraeus’, brightest star. After his death your seven siblings have come to the decision to banish you since you don’t agree with their way to rule. Sending you across space and time you end up landing in the Illyrian Mountains.

Warnings: violence, angst, fluff, and very long

A/n: based on this request

They had you dress in your armor. Had you strap your sword to your back. All to get rid of you. In your twenty-five years of life never once had you been a nuisance to your siblings. Being the youngest made you unseen and you had handled it with grace.

Never had you defied your father or the woman you are forced to call mother. Never once had you gotten in their way of ascending the throne.

Your siblings were all in agreement on how they wanted to rule. And who would question gods?

You are young, you’ll learn is something you always heard from the seven of them. But you didn’t want to learn. You wanted to change things. Make the world a better place for the people you ruled over.

Clearly, your older siblings did not like that idea. You wouldn’t be standing here with a portal to gods knew where at your back as they all looked down at you from the dias in the throne room. Guards surrounding you with their weapons drawn.

“I have been nothing but compliant all my life. Learning to live in your shadows as father favored all of you, never paying attention to me. You were all I had. And now you’re abandoning me because what? I won’t agree to Castor’s ruling?”

Your eldest brother sighed, looking bored as he spread out on the throne. The sight made you sick. He was lazy, arrogant, and cruel. He is the last person in existence who should be king. “What’s done is done little sister. I can’t have descent among the ranks. Our brothers and sisters are in agreement with me.”

Tears stream down your face as you realize what Castor was truly mad about. Were you truly being punished for something you had no control over? "That's not why you're getting rid of me, is it? You hate that I'm more powerful. If I'm still around our people will question your rule when they see me." Castor pounded his fist against the arm of the throne. He stood so abruptly the throne almost toppled over.

Guards and courtiers and even a few of your siblings were confused at the reaction you drew from him. Castor points a finger at you, the rage simmering on his face threatening to boil over. “You have no right to speak to me that way!” He stomps down the dias stopping at the line of guards keeping you from your family.

Castor takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm his temper. It’s too late though. He’s already ruined himself for the people who are supposed to show him blind loyalty. “You will hand over your sword before you go.” He said plainly. “No.” You say firmly, standing straighter, ready to defend yourself. If you were going to take something with you it would be the silver and pearl sword at your back. You forged it when you were fifteen before your first battle to match the bright silver armor you were wearing now. Like hell you’d give that up. It was imbued with your power. Castor would melt it down for its core and the beautiful thing you’d created would be gone.

The guards looked conflicted as Castor waved his hand for them to stand in attack position. You discreetly step back two paces, trying to get as closer to the portal before they strike. It was shrinking as Castor wasted time. You realize that you’d have to jump soon or die here.

“Give it here, little sister.” He holds out his hand, impatience running low. You shake your head vehemently. You take two more steps back. The cold breeze from the portal sending chills through the open spots in your armor. “No Castor.” You say trying to keep the shakiness from your voice. “You want me gone? Then all of me is going.”

The room around you fades. Closing the distance between you and the unknown, you leap before anyone can grab you. There’s a moment where you’re suspended in mid air. A light feeling taking over your body. Like you weigh nothing. Looking back you find the chaos of the throne room frozen. Castor lunging to grab any part of you he can reach. Guards mid-swing to strike you down.

You don’t have a chance to fully take in the scene before you're falling. There's just darkness as you tumble through time and space. You feel a pull in your stomach. It's unbearable. Your bones feel like they’re compressing. Before it gets worse the pain vanishes as you keep falling. And falling. And falling.

It felt like you were falling for hours. Days. Years. All sense of time and direction was gone. Left was up and Down was right. Tears from your eyes spilled upward, floating away from your face. You didn't know if it was from the wind whistling past or your fear of the unknown.

When you could finally see again you started slowing down. As if the universe was deciding where to put you. Taunting you with what could be.

Different worlds in all different periods of time flew by. Major cities that looked old and new. Gleaming towers touching the sky, people with and with out wings flying through the air. Lush green worlds with castles, some with odd architecture that seemed millennia away built into the land, others with flying ships coming and going. Worlds made entirely of water with structures just above the restless surface.

But the universe didn't stop at any of these places. If you could choose you don't know which world you would pick. You'd love to explore all of them if you could.

Time slowed again, bringing you to another world. The final one it seems. A glittering night sky came into view until it was the only thing you saw. Snow capped mountains appeared to get closer, the air chilly with a roaring wind.

Gasping, you realized this is where you were being dropped. The universe picked a world and it was this gorgeous, endless night. At least you'd have the stars. Maybe there would be new constellations for you to discover.

You tried to control the rest of your fall. Summoning your power, your hands eminated that familiar shimmering white glow. You could use the propulsion of the 'star beams'—you and your sister Vesper lovingly called them—to slow down. The light flickered like you couldn't fully connect to it. Your heart pounded hoping it was just a one-time thing.

It was not.

In fact your light seemed to dim every few hundred feet. You felt an odd buzzing rush through your body at what seemed like the five hundered feet mark. By three hundred feet your power fully flickered out on you.

Holding in your scream you braced for impact. You silently prayed the snow was deep enough to cushion you. Feeling the ground rush up at you, you screwed your eyes shut, not wanting to watch.

The snow was no help at all. You hit the hard, cold earth hard. You rolled over onto your back taking in deep breaths to help dispel the pain running rampant through your bones. To distract yourself from your shaking body you focus on the night sky.

The stars seemed so familiar but new. Even though your current situation sucked a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You have a new night sky to discover. A new north star to navigate the land with.

Sitting up you move and crack your joints to get feeling back in your body. Now that your bones have stopped shaking you stand, stretching again.

You look around the mountain region and spot what you hope is a village in the distance. Lanters and fire light told you that the residents were still awake. Hope flared in your heart. Maybe this mountain village would be your new home. A smiple life but it would be yours and no one would try to control you.

——

Rhys felt the breach in the wards an hour ago. With every minute he wasted winnowing to Windhaven, telling Devlon, and tracking down Cassian and Azriel he was on edge. Anyone could have broken through. And that anyone could have any kind of power with a grudge or looking to destroy a city.

While waiting the High Lord donned his fighting leathers, strapping his sword to his back. His brothers came rushing up to him as he pulled the leather srap through it's buckle.

"Devlon sure took his time getting you two. Did he tell you about the wards?" Rhys asked, tension in his voice from the concern for his court. The pair shook their heads givinging their brother a worried look. “An hour ago the wards were breached. Whoever it was is up here in the mountains so they have a ways to go before the city. I want this done quietly so we don’t cause panic, ready?”

“Let’s go.” Cassian said, checking the glowing ruby siphons on the back of his hands. The three brothers spread their wings, taking off into the night sky.

——

Cutting your way through the forest the trees finally thinned out. You must be getting close to that village. Taking a pause, you lean against one of the thick tree trunks to stretch out your back. Your body still feels tight and achey from the fall. Gods, you’d kill to have a hot bath right now.

Letting go of the rough bark you wiped your hands together to get rid of the dirt. Continuing your trek up the steep mountain the sound of beating wings above you making you freeze. Not knowing what is attached to said wings you find it in your best interest to hide. And you better hide fast because they sound like they’re slowing down.

Running on silent feet you backtrack a few feet to the left to hide behind one of the larger trees. The sound of someone whooshing through the branches and landing, shaking your surroundings makes you hold your breath. Pressing your back to the tree trunk hard you will your powers to come back to you. That familiar light sensation in your body had noticeably dimmed.

If you had to fight you were terrified you’d have to rely on hand-to-hand combat or weapons. You weren’t at full strength, no way you could last.

Crunching footsteps got louder and louder as whoever was searching the woods drew closer. You had to make a decision and fast. Attack first or wait. The thing about waiting is that you can get too comfortable with your hiding spot. You let your guard down and someone surprises you.

Taking a chance you peek out from behind the tree. The thing with large membranous wings had his back to you. It looked like a male, male shaped at least. He could have a creature like face for all you knew. Something nasty and horrible or sharp teeth meant for ripping limbs from your body. You had never encountered anything like that on your home world but you always had a wild imagination.

Home world. What an odd thing to say.

The winged creature turned slightly, just enough so you could see his profile. Definitely not a sharp toothed monster. He seemed quite handsome actually. You wanted a closer look at him except every warning bell in your head was going off telling you to stay put.

His nostrils flared, sniffing the air. You quickly duck back behind the tree holding your breath once again.

A red blast shot through the tree just next to your head. You roll sideways, shooting to your feet. The male was closer now. Glowing red stones adorned his hands, shoulders, knees, and chest. They were pulsing with power as his face portrayed a warriors rage.

Holding your hands out at your sides, palms out, you willed your power back to you harder than you ever had in your entire life. To your relief, your hands glowed brighter than you had ever seen them. You felt the light in your whole being. It felt like it was emanating from your whole body.

The male looked frightened for a moment before snapping back into a battle stance. The dam you were keeping up on your rage at your family was breaking. If this male was looking for a fight you would give it to him. You bring your palm up to cover his chest in your line of sight.

A red shimmering shield absorbed some of the light, pushing the male backwards a few feet. Once the light died the rage on his face was clear. His teeth were bared at you and he let out a deep threatening growl. He started running at you drawing his sword.

You mimic his movements, bring the metal to clash in a loud ringing that shook your eardrums. It didn’t affect you as much as the male, who winced in pain. You didn’t hold back. You slashed and slashed and slashed. Hoping he’d fall soon.

You brought the male to his knees with a flash of your power and extra aggressive swing of your sword. Your blade sticks in his, creating a small notch. The surprise on his face changed to anger. He pushed back hard with a loud cry. You tried your hardest to dig the heels of your silver boots into the ground. The snow and frozen dirt making it impossible to find purchase.

He pushes you over a thick root causing you to lose balance. Calling to your power again you find it flickering out again. The white light dying as it reaches your finger tips. He notices and takes advantage. Elbowing you in the chest you fall the ground hard for the second time that night.

Before you can recover and fight back he dropped his knees down on either side of you, straddling your middle. Your instincts scream at you to start scratching and hitting him. But he acts like he’s being bothered by a fly as he bats your hands away. Catching your wrists in one hand he pins them above your head. You still struggle. You didn’t want to make it too easy.

Watching his face you noticed his eyes glaze over. His attention was on you, but it seemed like he was somewhere else. Taking advantage of the moment you attempt to knee him in the groin. He catches on to what you’re trying to do and moves to trap your legs tighter. You were now fully pinned under this hulking male.

There’s no way to get out of this. He’s far stronger and if you did break free he’d have no problem reaching out to pull you back. Or he could fly off with you. Then your chances at reaching the small mountain village would be zero. Your chances were looking pretty grim right now anyway.

As you stopped struggling and accepted your fate for right now. Adrenaline wearing off had the exhaustion of everything hit you. The bruises and stiffness from falling out of the sky. The ache in your chest from where the male elbowed you. Your arms were shaking from wielding g your sword. You are a certified mess.

Your vision began to go in and out. Between long blinks you saw two other figures standing over you. They were almost identical to the male on top of you. Almost. Even in your tired haze you could tell there was something unique about each of them. That they each held a special power. And then nothing.

——

You came to with a jolt. Feeling ropes tight around your wrists you started to panic. The door to the room you’re being held in opens with a bang. You wince and tuck your chin to your chest.

You had to get out. Escape somehow. You refuse to be locked away after escaping (well…being banished) from your own personal hell. How sad would it be if you traded your brother for another monster. Maybe you should’ve stayed. Continued being the silent, unquestioning sister and support Castor’s rule.

Looking up you see the three males from last night. You assumed everything happened last night since it was day time. You hoped it was last night.

The three look down at you with an odd curiosity. Like they’re dissecting you. You notice that glazed over look in all their eyes. As quickly as you noticed it their gazes refocus on you. The one in the middle who clearly carries himself like a leader steps forward.

“You’re a curious little silver thing. No one in the seven courts, or on the Continent for that matter, has claimed you to be their spy or warrior.” You raise an eyebrow at him, pursing your lips. Courts? The Continent? Just where exactly did you end up? The only positive you see right now is that the two of you can communicate. Hopefully you can clear things up and this male will believe your story.

You start to say something but the words get caught in your throat. Your mouth feels dry as you start to get anxious. What if they don’t believe how you got here? Would they just kill you? You had to stop catastrophizing. You’ll never talk if anxiety gets the better of you.

“I’m not from here. I had no idea where I was landing.” They all give you the same confused look. “From Prythian or another continent?” Ok, now’s your time to shine. Just drop that mind blowing piece of info on them and be done with it. “I’m from a different world.”

You bet if you knew them personally those expressions they are making would be priceless. The three males are completely dumbfounded. The one in the middle snaps back to his leader stance, something like curiosity and the knowledge of being right sparkling in his violet eyes.

“Please explain,” he said with a slight, confused smirk pulling at his lips. “Can I sit somewhere more comfortable? It’s a long story and I’m in so much pain.” You shouldn’t have mentioned the pain part but you are desperate for a cushy arm chair or a couch. A fluffy rug even. Anything but a rickety wooden chair and ropes that cut off your circulation.

He looks like he’s debating letting you. His hesitance makes you start your epic tale. “I was banished from my home, but it felt more like running before something bad happened.” The sincerity in your eyes makes up his mind. With a wave of his hand the ropes disappear.

Pushing yourself to stand you’re a bit wobbly. Now that you’ve rested you are starting to truly feel all the pain from last night. You should be fine in a day thanks to your accelerated healing. At least being part god from your father’s side was good for something.

The male who had been questioning you lightly grabbed your arms. Steadying, he leads you into a sitting room. Looking over your shoulder you see the room you were just in is no longer empty. The wooden chair was gone and bedroom furniture decorated the space. Curious. A place of magic then.

Stretching out on the large couch you let out a sigh. It feels good to be comfortable. The three males, still nameless to you, you realize, take up different seats around you. “I’m y/n, by the way.” “My name is Rhysand. You are already well aquatinted with Cassian,” Rhysand gestures towards the male with the red gems in his leathers, giving you a small two-fingered salute. “And this is Azriel.” He silently gives you a small nod in greeting, like you just entered their home and haven’t been their “prisoner” for the last twelve hours.

You tell Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian the story of your fathers passing, how you think your oldest brother murdered him, that he didn’t want you around anymore under the guise of not agreeing to his way of ruling. You did not give up the extent of your power. You still didn’t know if you could fully trust these three.

Rhysand then explained that you were now in the realm of the Fae. That there are seven courts in Prythian and fate had chosen the Night Court for you, the court he is High Lord of. You were blown away by the description of these courts. Wanting to explore them all.

After being told about his powers you let Rhysand into your mind. You wanted to establish trust and you knew how to fight off someone with telepathic powers. You could easily crush his mind if it came to that. Seeing that your story was true, and that you truly could not return home, Rhysand gave you a sympathetic look.

Days went by. The High Lord let you stay in his cabin until he thought of a permanent solution for you. The male you fought, Cassian, was staying with you. Not to watch you, Rhysand had reassured, to keep you company. It didn’t feel like it though. You still felt like you were tied to that rickety wooden chair.

Sitting around didn’t feel right to you. Learning there was a whole camp outside the cabin where a fighting style you had no idea about was being taught made you restless. You wanted to learn. Wanted Cassian to teach you.

You like talking with Cassian. During meals and at night before bed you would trade stories from childhood or fights you had been in. He was amazed you could fight so well and wielded so much power at twenty five years old.

Tension seemed to be growing between the two of you. Not bad tension. It was almost awkward. Like neither of you wanted to say the wrong thing. For the first time a male wasn’t speaking to you to climb a social ladder or to get to one of your family members. Cassian seemed truly interested in you, and you didn’t want to mess that up.

You couldn’t deny that he’s attractive. You have a craving for him. You want him to be yours. You want all of his attention. Plus he is everything you want in a male. Strong, good looking, a fighter, kind, and caring.

Over dinner that night you finally worked up the courage to ask Cassian if he would be willing to show you the camp and let you train. he had paused, thinking through his options. You didn’t know Illyrians, which scared him. Cassian would never forgive himself if anything happened to you. “I will ask Rhys if you can train. I’m sure that won’t be a problem.” Truthfully, he wanted you to stay in the safety of the cabin until your permeant solution was available. But he knew the reality of what you are. You’re a warrior, a fighter like him. And you would rather die than sit still.

Three days passed without an answer from Rhys. You had become impatient and irritated with Cassian’s answer each time you asked. “He hasn’t made his decision yet. But he will soon.” Soon. You were getting sick of that word. You could tell Cassian felt bad each time he didn’t give you the answer you wanted. He knows what it’s like to want to let the warrior out. To do your routine. To fight.

Making the decision for Rhys you dress in the fighting leathers Cassian had made for you. Adding your silver gauntlets to your arms and strapping your sword to your back. The leathers fit like a glove. Flexible and breathable. If only you could fully mix these with your armor. Then you’d have quite the battle suit.

You weren’t allowed to roam the village alone. Suspecting that was more Cassian than Rhys given the way residents of Windhaven were staring at you. Murmurs joined their curious looks. But you held your head high, keeping your pace calm as you look for the training rings.

None of them are Castor. He is not here. He cannot hurt you. You had been repeating those words to yourself more than you’d like to admit. Every night since you arrived in the Night Court sleep had been restless. Nightmares of Castor getting his hands on your sword or killing you or locking you up plagued you.

Cassian had been there, though. He sat with you, talked with you. One night, after a particularly horrible nightmare, Cassian sat with you on the couch letting you grip his hand. The two of you sat in silence for hours as his warm, rough hands grounded you.

He never asked questions. Never pushed you to talk about it. He let you take things at your own pace, which you were grateful for.

Your siblings or father or handmaidens never let you talk about things that bothered you. They all believed nightmares were silly things to dwell on. “Ignore it,” you had been told when all you wanted was comfort.

Clanging metal had you shaking the thoughts from your head. Especially the ones of Cassian. You find him in one of the training rings with his shirt off, sparring with another male that looks younger. The ring was surrounded by a group of males who all looked younger than him. You watch him spar, his muscles flexing and those wings move to help keep his balance.

Something you couldn’t get over was his tattoos. The black intricate swirls spanning his chest and arms left you breathless.

As Cassian blocked the males strike he struck the younger males abdomen with a fist, sending him sprawling in the dirt. As the male stands you find yourself in line at the edge of the ring. Cassian turns from the male to talk about everything his opponent had done wrong. He stopped short noticing you among the Illyrians. The rest of the group follows his gaze, those closest to you edging away. Cassian looks at you bewildered. Trying to tell you to go back to the cabin with his eyes.

“I got bored.” You say nonchalantly, giving him a small shrug. A male across the ring sneers at you. Good. You were looking to let off some steam.

Cassian opens his mouth to most likely tell you no until the male who sneered at you spoke up. “Since when did outside females get to join training?” He smirked, thinking he struck a nerve. You returned his smirk with your own. Taking a step over the chalk line. “If you want we can spar. Unless you’re afraid to lose to a female,” you taunt him. Anger flashed in his face before that cocky smirk returned.

“Fine,” he bites out, drawing his sword. From the corner of your eye you spot Cassian. He had a torn look on his face. Like he wanted to stop you but he couldn’t help but wonder what you looked like at full power. How truly unleashed you could get. Gods was he…turned on by this?

Yes. Yes, he absolutely is.

After this—he told himself—he would make his move. You were made for him. Literally fell from the sky for him. After that first fight Cassian knew he met his match.

Focusing back on the fight in front of you, you draw your sword. The pure silver blade and mother of pearl inlay gleaming in the afternoon sun. A collective gasp sounded from the group at the pure power of the blade.

The two of you face off in a ready stance. Cassian marks the start of the fight and you begin circling each other. He makes the first move, trying to rush you. You block, spinning out into a defensive stance to continue circling. This was taking too long. You wanted more action than this.

Spinning your sword you run feel speed, watching the cocky look melt from the bastards face. He rushes to block your slashes. Catching him off guard you knock the sword from his hand, sending it flying past the chalk line.

Something snapped in you. The male looked at you ready to brace the storm that brewed in your eyes. Driving your sword into the dirt you launch yourself at him. Landing a hard, unforgiving kick to his chest. Stumbling back a few steps he regains his balance, putting his fists up. You dodge each punch he throws at you.

After you counted six punches you could tell he was tiring himself out. Pathetic. When his fists were lowered you saw your opening. Throwing a right hook his jaw made a sickening crunch. Finally down on the ground you dropped all your weight onto your right knee, falling onto his ribs.

You couldn’t help but punch his face over and over and over and over again. You couldn’t stop seeing Castor’s smug face. That smiling, thinking he had won by getting rid of you. You didn’t stop until a dark power rumbled all around you. A deep, dark voice booming through the village.

“ENOUGH Y/N!” Rhysand was standing next to Cassian, who looked like he didn’t know what to do. His warm hazel eyes sparkling as he looked from your bloody fists to your wild face. Looking Rhysand dead in the eyes you land one more punch.

Shoving yourself off the male you stand at your full height. Rolling out your shoulders and neck. Letting the tension in your muscles fall away. Picking up your sword and walking out of the ring right up to the high lord the other Illyrian’s gave you weary looks. Worried that if they breathed wrong they would be on the ground and bloody next.

“I’m a god Rhys,” your tone cool and confident, “you don’t tell me to stop fighting.” As you walk back in the direction of the cabin you miss the look of Cassian is giving you. His hazel irises are practically in the shape of hearts as he watches you saunter off.

[sweetwateriver]

Btw word of my exploits serving nick his comeuppance has seeped into the demimonde of mobsters and molls my father used to associate with, so the five families are sending their youngest and brightest, their princes, as it were, to, well, court the rare mafia princess who can belly up to the bar with the big boys

[vxlkyrie]

hcs about being friends with the bau?

warning: cursing, mentions of alcohol

a/n: tell me why i have written a page about this in my journal lmao (this will include those from season 7 and season 13 cuz those are my favorite lineups)

first of all, let me just say that you are also an ssa working for the bau, so obviously you became a part of the bau family

being the youngest, everyone would call you the baby/the child of the unit

they would protect you at all costs (esp the guys)

had a shitty date? they would be at your side to listen to you rant

maybe even confront your date the day after and put them in their place

if you were going out alone, one of them would meet up with you to make sure you were okay

you told them that you’ll be okay, but they’ll still worry about you

and make sure you text them when you get home

and although you hate that they treat you like a child sometimes, you still love them with all your heart

anyways, you would do a lot of random shit with your second family

like getting drunk at rossi’s and crash in one of his guest bedrooms (honestly, the whole team does that lol)

probably because y’all were playing a drinking game

or maybe you just wanted to get wasted while getting full from rossi’s homemade pasta

you’d also get drunk with penelope and savannah at derek’s place (you know that one episode)

babysit (and spoil) everyone’s kids 

one time, matt told you to stop buying gifts for his five kids, but you couldn’t help it

you’d also watch over sergio and roxy

whether it was just housesitting or taking them out for a walk

you would binge-watch doctor who with spencer and penelope

and definitely dress up and go to conventions with them

you would go to the foreign film festival with spencer whether you knew the language the movie’s being played in or not

you would go to horror movie premiers with them

when they saw that absolutely nothing scared you, they were lowkey terrified of you

everyday at the office, you made it your goal to tell a joke or a story to hotch to try and make him laugh or at least smile

and you would succeed almost every time

when you all went out to a club, you found yourself (platonically) throwing it back on emily, derek, luke, or tara

they would also protect you if some creepy dude tried to make a pass at you

or you’d pretend to be emily or tara’s gf to scare off a guy

the parties y’all would throw oh my god

halloween parties

spencer would so help you with decorating

penelope knew how to make any scary treat

the scary props for your photobooth wall

and everyone’s costumes *chef’s kisses*

christmas parties

ugly christmas sweaters

secret santa with the whole team

decorating cookies and a gingerbread house

random mistletoes that cause matt and luke to share a very awkward but quick peck (it was funny as shit though)

you would throw everyone a surprise birthday party

but you bawled your eyes out when the team threw a surprise birthday for you (they found your pinterest board lmfao)

you also hung out with the girls a lot

you would go shopping with them

buying yourself a new wardrobe while also getting all the guys a little gift

you’d have random sleepovers with them

face masks and rewatching twilight (and crying)

you would also participate in that whole fbi baseball event they had (my favorite episode tbh)

the bau cheering for you as you made a homerun every turn

and the other units now knowing not to fuck with you

on the plane ride home from a case, instead of falling asleep quickly like the others do

you’d have your earbuds in and dance in your seat

not noticing derek laughing at you

or spencer, who was in the middle of reading, smiling at you

both confused as to how you still have so much energy left

when everyone was asleep, you’d go around and take pictures of the team sleeping

you literally have an album that’s just the bau making ugly faces

and you would so use them as reaction memes

i’m just saying, there’s no way the bau does not have a big groupchat together (and everyone has “baby” as your contact name)

y’all don’t even talk about cases

you guys just talk about whatever

and you’d send memes to them (and probably explain them to spencer)

you, emily, and penelope are the only ones to send reactions pics (until you start sending everyone’s faces and they get mad lol)

at jj’s wedding, you’d dance with everyone

and i mean everyone

including jj and will (we stan this man in this household)

when spencer’s hair started to grow longer

you’d tied them up in ponytails or even little space buns (he would look so cute omg)

it didn’t matter if it was just you two hanging out or y’all were working

and he would leave it on the whole day

one day, you decided to style swap with penelope

you both walked into the office looking like each other

you’d be wearing the brightest of colors

while penelope wore darker clothing

which threw the whole team off guard, but they continued to tease you two

at least that day was just filled with paperwork and you didn’t have to fly out for a case

when derek and spencer were having their little prank war, you decided to one-up them and prank both of them

so now it’s you three pulling pranks on each other until rossi or hotch stops all of you

you would go get ice cream or frozen yogurt with spencer (even if you were lactose intolerant)

you’d do the spicy ramen challenge with penelope (i would cry tbh)

if you were to ever carpool with spencer and he’d let you listen to whatever you want

you’d probably start playing rap and sing all of the lyrics (imagine rapping to wap in front of him he’d scream)

if derek was also riding with you two, he would so hype you up

at first, spencer would look at you with wide eyes as he heard every swear word leave your mouth

but one day, you’d play your favorite rap songs again and you hear spencer mutter the lyrics

your jaw literally dropped

imagine karaoke nights with the bau

they would be so fucking fun

it doesn’t matter if you were a good singer or not

the whole team would be cheering for you (especially hotch don’t come for me)

if you were singing an upbeat song, everyone’s dancing

if you were singing a ballad, everyone’s crying and waving their phone’s flashlights

in conclusion, when you weren’t out working cases, you would have the time of your life hanging out with the bau

you were so grateful to have them by your side

[musicallisto]

Hello love,

Congratulations for the 800 followers! You absolutely deserve this and so much more! I'm happy to see how your blog grows and that you're still providing all of us with wonderful content. You're one of the first blogs that I've started to follow here on Tumblr and I'm so lucky to have found your blog ♡

As for your celebration event, could I please request a 🍨 vanilla milkshake with a male Peaky Blinders Character?

I'm more on the curvy side (and insecure about it) and I'm ALWAYS wearing black (which I love, no matter what others say or even more if they object). As for my personality, I'm a highly complex, paradox and complicated individium. I'm unbelievable patient, timid, awkward, kind, forgiving, open-minded, compassionate, thruthful, gentle and calm and I've been told that I have a calming effect on others, that I can easily ground anyone and anything, no matter how troubled their mind is. I prefer vintage over modern things. I think rather deep which often leads me to overthinking everything, which in turn leads me to doubting (very much) myself. You would be surprised how timid and reserved I am, I'm sure you wouln't notice me in a room full of people if it wouldn't be for my different appearance (but I like it this way). I'm always well-meaning, yet often misunderstood (maybe because it's hard for me to articulate myself). I can be incredible lazy, clumsy and forgetful. I've always felt like I don't really belong anywhere, so I've started to distance myself from others a while ago. I'm a outsider, weird, a dork, not normal, a loner and I fucking love it, because I like to be different, I would hate to fit into just one box and to be like everyone else. And I like people who are not ashamed to be their 100% true self, no matter how different that is from the mainstream. I'm the most loyal person you'll ever find, once you earn my trust, I'll always be on/by your side, no matter what. That says a lot, because I'm hard to scare away. Sometimes I feel alienated from the people and things surrounding me and I'm sure that I annoy and bore them. I'm very nervous and insecure around others, which is why I try to avoid people and why I'm not talking all that much around them (though, I'm a really good listener). I'm easily overwhelmed by large crowds and much light/noise, that's why I don't like to go outside, I prefer to cozy up at home. I would never intentionally hurt a animal and I'm not eating any meat, which is very important to me. I believe that there isn't a ounce of cruelty inside me. I'm unassuming and understanding, I only believe what I've witnessed on my own and I have endless acceptance for almost everything. Due to my Insomnia, I'm a night owl. I have strong personal values, am very opinionated and I'm really in-touch with myself and even though I'm extremly insecure, I would never reduce or change myself and views/opinions for someone and I neither have a problem to challenge authority and advocating for my beliefs. I'm a perfectionist and sometimes I really hate it. And, as you can see, I'm unable to be brief. My favourite colours are dark green, black, gold and dark purple. My greatest passion is music, even if I can't sing or play an instrument.(I prefer rock/punk/pop/80s/90s) It's the most calming and therapeutic thing when it comes to my anxiety and depression and I could never live a day without it. You will never see me in the street without headphones in my ears and even when I'm at home there's music playing almost all the time. I could talk for hours about music and what it means to me. And otherwise I love to watch films and series (I like fantasy, horror, psychological thriller, science fiction and psychological drama and almost anything from the 70s, 80s and 90s). I love rainy days and to go outside while it's pouring big, fat drops. What I love the most is to drive around without a destination, while talking and listening to music. And I love to spend time with my cat, if I could, I would have endless animals who live peacefully and loved with me. I enjoy to have deep talks and to be challenged to think. I love to take late-night-strolls, while gazing into the sky and watching the stars/moon. I have a fascination for dark and macabre things.

I really hope that's not too much? But thank you anyway ♡

Have a good day!

thank you so much for your kind words, you have no idea how much it means to me to know that I was one of the first blogs you followed ;; here’s your vanilla milkshake - and it’s also my first time writing for peaky blinders, but I hope it’s alright; and I hope finn shelby will find the portrait I paint of him accurate enough...

Birmingham was a drab and disheartening place enough without the war adding to its joylessness; but somehow the streets are even worse to bear deserted than when they’re bustling and fetid. Especially for a ten year old boy who wants nothing but to play with someone, to talk to someone, to see someone.

With his brothers off fighting somewhere in France and his aunt too busy with her businesses (adult stuff that Finn has absolutey no interest in attempting to understand), the youngest Shelby has been fighting off an affliction worse than consumption and measles, because much more insidious for a boy his age; boredom

and he’s so sad, so irrevocably sad, with no one to bruise his knees with and throw mud at, that he just aimlessly wanders the empty streets whenever aunt Polly isn’t looking, to find a semblance of stimulation

(he used to enjoy the solitude, it gave him time to imagine delirious stories in fantastical worlds and read the most enthralling of novels, but not anymore. four years of reclusion is an awfully long time for a little boy.)

and it’s during one of his escapades that he first meets you

you’re a little girl his age, dressed in a pretty dress, wearing pretty booties and holding a pretty little woven basket, but your face is stuck on the most grouchy frown he’s ever seen on a little girl, and you don’t walk, you stomp down the wet pavement like a wrathful titan

And it’s probably the first time in four years that he’s been this close to making a new friend, so he walks up to you, despite how rusty his communication skills have become

“Girls don’t frown. It’s unbecoming.”

(Yes, pretty rusty indeed; but in his defense, he’s ten, he’s bored, he’s lonely, and he’s only ever heard Ada say it, and Ada is the most level-headed of his siblings, so anything she says must be true, right?)

“Shut up.”

(Well, if it was unbecoming of you to frown, it’s even more to rebuff someone so rudely. You don’t even spare a glance and continue walking; he has to hurry to catch up to you.)

“You can’t say that. It’s a bad word.”

“How do you know that?”

“My family says it all the time, but they told me I can’t say it.”

“Well, my family is not your family. And I hate my family!”

You’ve yelled the last words at the sky, so loud that the crows on the neighboring roofs have taken off in a startled flight.

“They want to wear this stupid dress to go to the stupid market to buy stupid meat. I don’t even want to eat meat, that’s cruel! And I don’t even want to wear a frilly dress! I want to wear black!”

And in saying so you tugged at the pink and white ribbons that encircled your waist.

And Finn couldn’t help being extremely intrigued at this little girl who said bad words and refused to eat meet and wanted to wear black. It was the most exciting thing to ever happen in all the duration of the war.

“You want to wear a black dress?”

“Yes, but my mama won’t let me. She says it’s too sad because of the war. But black isn’t sad! Black is beautiful!”

“Maybe I could find you a black dress. I’m sure my sister must have one. Where do you live?”

And, loyal to his promise, the following morning he had run to your doorstep and snuck into your house - a proper Shelby talent, to be able to go unnoticed or make a ruckus depending on the occasion - with an old, crinkled mourning dress of Ada’s, that had probably belonged to his mother and had been mended several times

And it was obviously five sizes too big for you and you looked more like a ghost from one of Finn’s horror novels, your arms floating in the sleeves and the hem of the skirt pooling at your feet, but your smile was the brightest light he’d ever seen in this whole damn town.

“Do you like it?”

(He didn’t really know why he sounds so nervous. Maybe it was having a friend, a real friend, and doing something personal for them... or maybe it had to do with how fast his heart beat, watching you in that gigantic, shapeless dress)

“I love it! Thank you so much, Finn!”

From then on started one of the most wonderful friendships Finn would ever have, and what would bring a ray of light to the grim existence of a little boy in the midst of a global war

Despite the ration cards, despite the loneliness, despite the worry that tugged at his stoic aunt’s eyes for her son and nephews across the Channel... he found an unspeakable solace in your friendship

And one day, without a trace, you were gone

He knocked on your door; gone. He asked all the neighbors what had happened to the family that lived there; gone. He wrote you letters and sent them to the confines of England; gone. He got scolded by Polly for marking numbers at random on Tommy’s state-of-the-art telephone; gone.

Suddenly he was back to the bleak existence he had battled with before meeting you, and the hollow inside his chest only grew wider as the days went on, because he had no explanation as to what had happened to you, and worried every single day

Thankfully, the war ended not long after, and his brothers came back home, all alive and unscathed - well, for the most part

Fast forward more or less ten years, and much has changed in Finn Shelby’s life and in old Birmingham, but the memory of you still stugs at his heartstrings

One evening, he’s tasked by Arthur to run some errands, send a few messages, scout a few places; the most dangerous thing his older brothers will ever let him do

His task leads him to a bar in the center of town, one that pours its joyous light and music into the street outside; he’s there to meet with a client, arrange a meeting; nothing he’s hasn’t done already

But the evening takes a turn for the unexpected when he recognizes the girl sat alone at a table, enjoying the musicians’ jazz with an air of pure bliss on her face

It’s been ten years, of course, but... it’s unmistakable. That face, that silhouette, and the black ensemble from head to toe... and he’s always had a knack for remembering faces, especially those that mark him deeply

Suddenly he’s frozen on the spot, and he has forgotten why he came to the bar in the first place, what his target looks like - all he knows is you, and how beautiful you look in the dim light of the bar, and the undisclosed and unknown feelings he had for you at the time come flooding back.

Except this time, he understands, and he fears them, because he doesn’t have time for any of this, and it’s way too dangerous for you and him

But he can’t just pass you by and not say a word?

He swallows, hard.

And walks up to you.

“Y/N?”

You open your eyes, and your face flashes with recognition, and a little bit of pain as well. Even if you fled without a word, and left him hanging all these years, he’s incapable of rancor

“Finn... wow, you’ve changed so much.”

“You haven’t.”

He gestures at your face, your clothes, how you savor the music like the finest drink in the world, and you laugh and blush, sending his heart into overdrive

“Where were you all this time?”

“I’m so sorry, Finn... my brother died in the war, and... my mom sent me to live with my grandparents in Scotland. We were all destroyed by grief... I needed to get away.”

“Without explanation? Not even a word?”

“I wanted to write to you, so bad, but... I couldn’t remember your address. I couldn’t remember anything about Birmingham at all...”

He nods, slowly, in understanding.

The war opens wounds that never heal, even after all the most beautiful friendships and love stories in the world.

“But I’m really glad I found you.”

His heart is pounding in his throat. Maybe it’s a sign of destiny that he found you here, tonight, alone, and ready to welcome him back. Maybe it’s a word from fate, that you can never truly be apart.

So he takes the seat in front of you, and you smile, that shy but bright smile of yours, and he forgets all about his mission, his client, and his brothers.

They’ll have to understand.

800 follower sleepover

[dudeandduchess]

Kyōjurō x F!S/O, and Ran: Orihime and Hikoboshi (Family Fluff, SFW Scenario)

Summary: Kyōjurō and his wife take their daughter to the Tanabata, and while there Kyō tells Ran all about the story behind the festival— while, of course, embellishing a few details. After all, it was for the sake of entertaining the brightest star in the Flame Hashira’s life.

Note: I had baby fever, so this was inevitable. 😂 Also, here are two amazing art pieces of Ran which were drawn by @captain-roomba 🥰 I love them so much and were high key my inspirations for writing this.

If you bbys have any Ran art or anything like that, please don’t hesitate to send them my way. I love seeing them sooooo much. 🥰🍉

***

The sound of the festival being in full swing colored the mildly humid night, bringing life and excitement to the otherwise stifling setting around the youngest member of the Rengoku family.

Ran held tightly to her father’s right hand, looking up at him expectantly as he brought the hashimaki up to his mouth and took a bite out of the lukewarm— and savory— treat. “Papa, don’t eat everything!”

His daughter’s quiet outburst had Kyōjurō laughing— making a few people look over at him, before dismissing him as another one of those happy-go-lucky festival goers. He then decided to humor his little princess, stooping low enough to that he could bring the snack down to her lips. And, in a heartbeat, she took a huge bite out of the savory treat— making sure to get as much of the katsuoboshi as she could.

The four year-old’s actions had Kyōjurō’s eyes widening, as he watched his tiny and adorable daughter fit the huge bite of hashimaki in her mouth. Her cheeks even puffed up with how much she’d eaten, yet she still shot him a wide grin that could only make him chuckle.

Then, with a sigh, he tried not to eye the half eaten taiyaki that was still in Ran’s right hand— not to mention the tiny bag that hung from the crook of her arm, which still had five more of the fish-shaped sweets.

When his wife sees just how much food they got, he had no doubt that she would get mad at him again. All because he liked to spoil Ran.

In his defense, she was his little angel— so he wanted to dote on her as much as he could, and it wasn’t like he didn’t have the means to do so. If Ran wished, he could buy out all of the food stalls in the area; but he wouldn’t do that, all because of his wife (Y/n).

Kyōjurō had faced so many tough demons in his years of being a Slayer, but none of them could match up to (Y/n)— especially when she started wielding her sandal around. Once that came off, it was time to hide; that was for sure.

A chuckle bubbled free from his lips at the thought, and it had Ran looking up at him once more as she continued to chew through the food in her mouth. However, when she swallowed it, she instantly brought the taiyaki to her lips and took a bite out of it— before offering it up to Kyōjurō. “Does papa want some?”

The plastic bag that hung from the crook of her arm made a crinkling sound as it swung with her movements— hitting the top of the Flame Hashira’s knee as Ran held it up as best as she could.

“Maybe later, princess,” Kyōjurō answered with a grin, just as he finished the last of the hashimaki on the stick and tossed it into a trash bin. “Thank you.”

He didn’t miss the minute frown that briefly graced his daughter’s lips, however; and it had Kyōjurō chewing faster before swallowing what was in his mouth. And in a move that he’d done so many times before, he scooped Ran up into his arms and grinned at her.

Just as he’d intended, his little girl let out a peal of laughter that warmed his heart— tapering his grin down into a soft, satisfied smile that he didn’t even bother to hide from her.

“On second thought, can I have some? Papa’s already hungry again.” He really wasn’t hungry, but the bright expression that graced Ran’s face made the white lie worth saying in the first place.

She didn’t fail him; holding up the red bean filled pastry to his mouth, and holding it there as he took a generous bite out of it.

“Umai!” The Hashira cried out with a grin, as he held his daughter tighter— especially when she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

The rest of their walk was wordless after that, filled instead with the sounds of taiko drums in the distance, as well as the quiet sounds of them going through most of the taiyaki that they’d gotten earlier.

Kyōjurō was sure of the probability that he’d stained his yukata with the red bean filling, but he paid no mind to it as he looked over his daughter’s pink one— which had the same flame patterns as his red one had— and deemed it clean enough to pass his wife’s muster later.

All they had to do at that point was to wait for her by the river— since she had to get the mini silk bags that she so adored from the merchant stalls on the other side of the bank. They had decided to split up, since there were much more people there— and it wasn’t really ideal to bring Ran to a much more crowded area.

And so, without anywhere else to sit, Kyōjurō set Ran down on the fence that lined the edge of the river— not once loosening his arms around her, and even leaning forward so he could press a kiss to the crown of her head.

“Papa?” The little girl asked softly.

In response, the Hashira pulled a little bit away from her so he could see her face beneath the dim glow of the paper lanterns above them. “Hm?”

“What’s Tanabata?”

Kyōjurō had to really stop and think about it— all while thinking if he had already told the story to Ran. But when he concluded that he had never told her the story before, he answered confidently, “Well, it’s the story of how me and your mama met.”

The little girl gasped at that, complete awe in her features; looking as if it was her father whom had hung up all of the stars in the sky just for her. It had him feeling a little out of sorts, yet extremely content as he smiled down at Ran.

“Really? How! How did you and mama meet? Please tell me, papa!”

The young man chuckled at that, then answered indulgently, “Well, back then— a long time before you were born— your mama was a princess named Orihime. She loved to weave, and it was her job to make pretty clothes for all of the gods in heaven. She would always weave by the river called Amanogawa, and she was happy for a while— until she got sad, because she felt lonely. Orihime wanted to get married and have a family, but she couldn’t do that because she didn’t have any new people to meet.”

Ran was so engrossed in the story, hanging on to her father’s every word and nodding along as Kyōjurō continued his tale.

“Then one day, Orihime’s father introduced her to me. Back then, people called me Hikoboshi; and my job was to herd cattle,” He smiled at that, then picked up the story once more, “Your mama was the most beautiful lady I’d ever seen in my life. Her smile was so warm and breathtaking, and everything about her was so perfect. So I asked her to marry me then and there.”

The Rengoku patriarch suppressed a laugh at the memory of him actually proposing marriage to (Y/n) the first time he saw her, and shook his head to clear out the memory of the humorous rejection that she had answered him with. Still, he couldn’t help but smile at the adorable way that she looked as she stuttered out her words.

“We were so happy with each other that we forgot to do our duties. Orihime stopped weaving, and Hikoboshi stopped tending to the cattle; so all of the cows were loose up in heaven. The gods didn’t like that at all, so Orihime’s father separated us,” He sighed wistfully at that, remembering his own struggles when his father-in-law tried to take (Y/n) away from him; all because of his dangerous occupation. “We couldn’t see each other, because I was put on the other side of Amanogawa— but your grandfather agreed to let me and your mama meet on the seventh day of the seventh month of every year. Only, there wasn’t a bridge to let your mama cross over to me.”

“Oh no, papa! Did you swim?” Ran sounded so troubled by it, which made Kyōjurō feel a little bad for stretching the truth as far as he did. But it was too late to take it back at that point, so he just continued, after shaking his head.

“Your mama was crying so much, that it summoned a flock of crows. And they became a bridge that let us meet every year; but when it rained, your mama and I can only look at each other— and wish that we were together.”

“But it’s different now, right? You and mama live together now! Right, papa?” There were tears building up in the corners of Ran’s eyes, which Kyōjurō made disappear by pressing butterfly kisses all over his daughter’s cheeks and forehead— as well as her eyelids, when she’d closed her eyes to will her own tears away.

“Yeah, it’s different now, because we have you,” He reassured softly, all while pulling away the tiniest bit and smiling down at Ran. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and your mama; our little Ran-chan.”

At that, Kyōjurō pulled his daughter into his arms once more; tucking her head beneath his chin and taking comfort in the way that her tiny arms hugged him in return. He’d thought that moment couldn’t have gotten any better, yet it did when he looked up and spotted his wife crossing the bridge from the other side of the river.

The smitten smile that made its way onto his lips was inevitable; all he could do was succumb to the butterflies in his stomach that fluttered up to his chest, which had his heart feeling so full of love— both for Ran and (Y/n).

And when (Y/n) smiled at him as she stood at the very middle of the bridge, the Flame Hashira found himself whispering, “I love you” right as he looked into those eyes that he loved so much.

(Y/n) couldn’t suppress her answering grin as she read her husband’s lips; watching him as he patted down their daughter’s unruly hair, while his gaze stayed right on her.

However, just as she was about to answer, the wind picked up and had her hair whip around her face— causing her to lift a hand up and tuck the unruly strands behind her left ear. And, instead of answering with a verbal reply, the young woman merely took the hand that she’d used to tidy her hair up, then pressed a kiss to her fingers before blowing it right towards her husband.

Of course, in typical Kyōjurō fashion, he pretended to catch (Y/n)’s kiss with one hand— right before pressing his own fingers to his lips.

Theirs was not a story exactly like Orihime and Hikoboshi’s, but it was something that was much better; much more intricate, and much more special since they were the ones that had tailored it, after all. And they wouldn’t have it any other way.

[cmonappayipyip]

avatar: the last airbenders characters in american high school au

sokka -> katara -> aang -> toph -> zuko

sokka

-senior

-class clown

-sometimes studies for class but he naturally understands everything in this nice smooth flow so school comes very easy to him

-sokka surprises everyone thinking he'd become a jock in high school (he was the class clown, a little bit sexist, a little rude as all young teenage boys are) by becoming a theater kid instead

-its there he meets his girlfriend suki

-the first time he meets her is in all her makeup and dress

-he says she did good in her auditions, for a girl

-he teases her for it until she tells him all the kids who want in to the club have to perform the same audition script, in the same dress and makeup

-he protested at first but gave in anyway

-and then sokka was casted as the girl love interest to suki

-and the rest is history

-not even a week later sokka is the defintion of a feminist

-and he still never shuts up about his girlfriend suki

-he's very popular, and not just in the theatre kid clique

-he makes friends with everybody

-one time he sees this small freshman standing up for a kid being bullied by a senior and it looks like the freshmans about to be eaten alive

-sokka watches not sure what to do but gets confused as the three seniors back down after the freshman makes a speech about love and acceptance for everybody

-sokka is insanely impressed until he realizes they backed down because a teacher was coming down the hall

-it was mr. jeong jeong

-and nobody wants to deal with jeong jeong, not even the scariest kids in the school

-after the almost fight sokka calls aang young grasshopper and they become friends

-for the rest of the year sokka and aang (and eventually toph) keep getting into weird schemes together

-one night they pull all the chairs out of the entire school and put them into the football field

-nobody ever finds out they were the ones who did it

-sokka plans the entire senior prank by himself and its flawless until aang tells him hes not going big enough

-they keep planning and eventually its so extreme katara comes in and tells them guys you cant set 100 wild geese free in the school

katara

-junior

-when shes a freshman she gets really mad when other people are talking over the teacher

-gets near perfect grades on everything she does but still never stops studying

-she wasnt that popular as a freshman, she was that kid for a while who showed up with 50 notecards for a 10 question vocab quiz

-but she joins the swimming team and calms down just a little and all of a sudden she has more friends than anybody else in the school

-she meets aang in swim

-hes a really fast swimmer and at first thats the only thing about him that catches her attention is how impressive his speed is as a freshman

-but then sokka and aang become friends and katara cant keep her eyes off of him

-she finds him funny and his calm and peace of mind comforting

-he has a way of handling situations that seem wise beyond his years, but then he also sometimes acts just like the kid he is

-she knows he likes her immediately and she likes him back too

-but she wont ever admit it

-until they later start dating when theyre both in college

-katara meets toph through aang and after she sees someone bully toph for being blind she becomes furious

-toph doesn't care, at all

-but katara wont let it go

-and toph secretly loves katara for that

-she starts becoming more active in caring about other people

-she joins student council and eventually becomes student council president, winning by actually caring about her school and not just a popularity contest (although it was a little bit, everyone loved her)

-but zuko ran against her in her junior year for president under irohs suggestion

-she hated him competitively for a while

-she constantly threw it in zukos face that he was a rich kid so he cant just buy his way into anything

-she hated him on principle

-zuko never taunted her back though

-one day as she went in to study at a tea shop, she saw zuko in the backroom serving tea

-she learned zuko didn't have any of his familys money anymore and worked for everything he owned, including his heart and temperament

-he was a good person

-katara stopped hating him, but she didnt give up running either

-when he lost presidency to her, he accepted graciously

-and thats when she asked him to be her vice president, and the entire class voted zuko in

-they were the most powerful duo in the school after that day

aang

-freshman

-respectfully but constantly arguing with the teacher

-he's not doing it to be funny, he just knows more than the teachers do

-but everyone thinks hes funny for it anyway

-he never has to study but always does great on the tests

-he was very popular immediately

-by the time he reaches physics sophomore year he meets mr. bumi

-aang starts eating lunch in bumi's room and slowly all of the class joins him for lunch

-bumi only eats a singular lettuce leaf for lunch and 5 packets of pop rocks everyday

-during tests he gives everyone a packet of pop rocks for when youre finished taking it and promises you a 100 if you figure out what he wants you to do with them

-people try everything from putting it in coke, to stealing their classmates, to pouring it on the ground and stomping on them

-aang figures out his last day of class when theyre supposed to take their final

-he notices on test days bumi never has pop rocks

-he always assumed it was so he didnt distract the students during the test but he knows now

-he walks into bumis room and when the test begins he hands bumi his own pop rocks and says he can have them

-bumi annouces aang was the first person in his 43 years of teaching who got it and he will get a 100 on his final

-slowly the entire class turns in their pop rocks to bumi

-but bumi makes them take the test anyway and he has all 29 packets during the test, distracting the entire class

-the highest score on the test was a 35

-but they all passed with 100s anyway

-parents were mad at bumi's teaching style thinking the kids learned nothing from his nonsense and that his grades were meaningless

-but when the ap test scores came back every single student recieved a 5/5 on their score

toph

-freshman

-she doesnt care about school at all when she starts but becomes famous later on

-class clown but not like sokka

-she does it in a disrespectful way at first

-she always puts her feet on the desk claiming they "need to see"

-shes mad the teachers dont get mad at her for it

-they pity her for being blind instead

-so that makes her act out even more

-she doesnt get to have bumi for physics, she has mr. yu

-yu was a horrible teacher, and toph as a young sophomore year was fed up being treated like she can't do anything, so she taught herself

-she listens to classes online and studies and makes her own physics experiments and learns from the nature of the world itself

-and does better than anyone in her class

-eventually she starts to get 100s on every single test thrown her way, in every class

-she stops being dissrespectful but oh boy does she never back down from a fight if she doesnt like somebody

-at first she doesnt have a best friend but really wants one

-she has gym with aang freshman year and they get really competitive when theyre put on opposite teams

-she nearly takes aangs head off with a dodgeball once

-aang beats her in a mile run freshman year and she doesnt talk to him for a few months until she beats him again

-but they quickly realize how similiar they are and they become best friends

-they talk throughout their english class constantly and keep getting in trouble with the teacher

-aang keeps apologizing ashamed but toph only laughs waits five minutes and starts again

-but all her teachers learn to love her and are impressed by ger instead of pitying her

-when toph has 100s on every single test

she becomes known as the impossible, almost famous internationally for her perfect scores

-shes literally the brightest youngest genius in the world, found in an american public high school

-it seems impossible and like shes cheating except for her 35 average she gets in english every year

-it doesnt matter she cant read anyway she says

-toph loves sokka and after aang introduces them to each other, she never passes up a chance for annoying him for being a theater kid

-she gets involved with many schemes with aang and sokka

-but at first katara and toph dont get along

-one time, katara walks in the middle of toph cornered getting bullied for being blind as a freshman

-katara cant believe herself this is happening in this day and age and gets those kids suspended for discrimination

-toph gets annoyed at katara for caring so much and making such a big deal about nothing

-but one day she realizes katara doesnt pity her at all, shes only mad at the other people

-and she smiles to herself and realizes it is kinda nice to have someone care about her like that

-so she lets katara rant and rave

-but the next time someone said tophs makeup she tried on for the first time is so ugly because she can't see her own face to do it, in fact that explains why she dresses herself like that

-toph throws an entire textbook with perfect accuracy at that persons head

-and when katara is asked as student council president what she thinks should happen to toph next

-katara responds she should be handed a heavier textbook

-and toph smiles

zuko

-junior

-when hes young hes extremely rich and uses his money to get in and out of everything

-hes good at heart but lost still

-he originally went to ozais private academy because his dad is the principal there

-but when zuko stands up for someone being bullied, just like aang did, he doesn't get friends but instead he gets suspended because the bully was the school quarterback and when ozai defended the quarterback, zuko spoke up

-ozai didn't like that

-ozai is so mad he sends zuko to live with his uncle with strict orders that if zuko makes one more mistake he'll be sent to military school

-but zuko has a good healing life with iroh after that

-iroh has zuko take just one year off of school as they travel the world and connect with nature and camp and by irohs request, drinks a lot of tea

-iroh supports zuko finacially completely but feeling guilty and wanting to help out, zuko begins working at a tea shop with his uncle after his father cuts him out of recieving any of the family money

-iroh enrolls him at the same school as sokka katara aang and toph and after a year of traveling and zuko's heart has cleansed of sadness rejection and anger and now healed

-(but that will never stop him from losing his temper every now and then again too)

-hes in the same grade as katara now despite being a year older

-zuko is pretty jack of all trades in all of his classes, (but only master of one)

-and he also couldn't be worse in english even though his teachers think he has a beautiful way with words

-when he talks without thinking he moves people to tears

-but once he turned in a poem that said "you have to look within yourself to save yourself from your other self. only then will your true self reveal itself."

-he comes home sad he got a 20 on that poem "ruining his high gpa"

-but zuko has a natural gift for chemistry and iroh suggests he tutors some kids for it to increase his confidence again

-zuko meets aang, who wanted a tutor to perfect his classes

-it doesn't go too well at first

-after a year of healing and calm and zen, aang is very very Loud to him

-they argue constantly

-zuko's tutoring style is effective but very aggressive

-he tests aang constantly on the hardest chemistry problems he can come up with, some of it stolen directly from advanced college level courses

-aang is just a freshman but zuko has him learning advanced organic chemisty

-one night they were sent out of the library because aang tried to steal zukos answer key because the test was just too hard and zuko yelled at him to stop and they knocked a whole bookshelf over in the struggle of chasing each other

-but after they left it was the first time aang saw zuko laugh

-after that they start to get along and become best friends for life, despite the age difference

-it takes zuko a while to get used to aangs friends loud personalities but one day when hes older he realizes thats the first time he ever had any real friends his entire life

[jungkooknope]

Star-crossed Lovers 1

Ancient Korea

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: angst, prince jungkook, maid/court lady reader, ancient korea

word count: 3 531

description: A love has blossomed between two unlikely partners, a love that has been doomed from the start. Jungkook promised to elope with you, but it just so happens that a marriage was brought upon him to provide peace and prosperity to the land.

note: this has been in my notes for so long, and i wrote this when i was at the hospital doing check ups with my grandfather. this is heavily inspired by scarlet heart and then i based the plot on my imagination while listening to taeyeon’s all about you and heize’s can you see my heart. please be nice to me,,, lol.

♡♡

I carried the tea sets cautiously holding my back straight, as I walked through the halls with the other court ladies in tow.

I offered a soft knock to the double doors that opened to see the brothers enjoying each others company. I offered my bow to pay my respects, and carefully walked behind the older brother's lane with the four other court ladies following behind me. I remained standing as they knelt down and carefully placed the tea sets onto their respective tables and poured the princes their tea, I kept my head low as I slowly raise it and meet the eyes of the youngest prince. I offered him a small smile to which he responded with a small nod and a smile of his own.

And our relationship was just a simple courtesy to the eyes of the public, but it was more than that - so much more than that.

It was past midnight when I decided to have some time for myself, and rest by the big rocks near the lake. The time and place where I am most free just like the moon and the stars; the place where I met the prince, and the place where I loved him at liberty.

"Hey, I'm here." I turned my head around and saw Prince Jungkook standing by the rocks, in all his glory. A smile on his face and his hands placed behind his back.

I sighed and turn my back on him again. "I thought we promised to never meet like this again, Your Highness."

The thick clothes he wears crumpled as he walked towards me, then he sighed. "Then you've got to give me a reason to stop coming here," he ended sitting beside me. That makes the two of us.

I pursed my lips into a thin line and I proceeded to stand, starting to walk away when I turned back on the lake. "Then, I shall take my leave." 

"Wait," he said catching my hand as he did so. I turn my head to him with curiosity. "Spare me a few minutes?" I started to opened my mouth to protest however I was cut off. "Just to see the stars."

I sighed looking down on him with a frown. "Your Highness if we're caught,"

"I know, I promise we won't." He looked and smiled at me, and although I was against it - I knew I was fooling myself. So, I sat down at rocks that faced the lake before him.

The moon was shining so bright, the stars were twinkling, the lake was so inviting and god he's beside me. It’s been a few months since we last saw each other like this, I steal a look to him and the sight made me catch my breath.

He had his arms stretched behind him as he looks up in the night sky. Seeing him underneath the moonlight makes him look so ethereal, so beautiful, even a beautiful Chinaware could never compare to this sight.

The prince always looks the best underneath the dark sparkling sky, when everyone is asleep and it is quieted down, where his eyes shines the brightest as they twinkle like the stars in the night sky, when he's more free than ever; smiling and laughing to his hearts content, free to be himself. 

Free to love and be with me.

"I missed you in the few months I was gone," he said quietly looking through the waters of the lake, as if he can see what's beyond it and he’s getting lost into it. "You were all I think about when I look up the night sky."

He turned his head to me as he said this and his eyes held so much emotions that it overwhelmed me and I had to look away, before I start to drown in them and wholly submit myself to him. 

We can't be together, and there should never have been an us to begin with. "I-"

"You'll reject me again," he cut me off, smiling bitterly at me. "I know how much you hate being in here Y/N, I know how much you long to be free, to be like the birds and fly. You don't belong to a place where your wings are contained, you're something more than that Y/N, and I want to give those to you. If you'd let me."

"Your Highness, I-"

"Jungkook," He insisted. It’s been so long since I last seen him, that I forgot how his name felt like on my lips.

I let out a shaky breath as I try to control my breathing. "Jungkook." I wanted to cry when I said his name, it finally felt right. "Spare me the declaration of love because we can't be together," I said looking at his eyes determined to get things straight as they should be.

Jungkook held my stare as his bitter smile was pulled to a frown. "Why are your eyes brimming with tears?"

"It's the wind," I said as I turn my head away from him.

He sighed and turned my face to him, holding my face with his two hands. "Y/N, if you'll accept me. I promise to get you out of here, we will live far away from the castle. We will live by our own, build a small farm for our family, we shall never live as royals or as servers, we will live as equals who adore and love each other." Jungkook declared, his eyes brighter than ever. It held so much more than determination and rigor, those eyes held promises and love. 

"But the king marry his children off to families of the same standard in society, Jungkook, I'll be beaten to death for seducing a prince." I replied in a whisper, finally letting a tear fall; convincing myself in my head is painful but hearing it out loud was heartbreaking.

The world is so unfair.

Jungkook swallowed and he wiped my tear with his thumb. "Then, let's run off, together. I can ask the other princes for help."

"Jungkook-" he did not let me finish.

"I will send for someone to bring you by the streams, on the next full moon, be ready by then."

I didn't want to admit it but my heart was leaping for joy, it was everything I have ever wanted. Away from here, where I am free, and I am with Jungkook. Although I had convinced myself to walk away from him, his determination made me believe that this is worth a shot. The heart wants what it wants, after all. "Then, I shall await for you."

There was no one by the lake at the next full moon.

Jungkook had to leave for a few months to meet and discuss politics and relations with the neighboring kingdom. He left me a letter explaining all this and included his excitement for the next full moon at his return. Jungkook expressed his feelings about the current standings of the political issues present in the kingdom. He wrote about how he wanted to address this, this plan he had was also sent to the crown prince, Prince Namjoon. 

Jungkook wishes to help the poor living beyond the South, they aren't considered as our people, but they were our people - exiled from the kingdom. It was a five page letter, that had four pages of it him talking about his kingdom.

He'll be a great king, if the gods will let him.

During the day, I would let myself be absorb with nothing but my work, trying to let myself to not be sad by the fact that I am missing someone though I hate to admit it. I would turn and wait everyday by the lake during the night as I bury myself in my thoughts; thinking of him, the only place where I am free from the judging eyes of others and it's just me with an imaginary Jungkook by my side.

It was early in the morning when the castle made a huge commotion, I was delegating the tasks for today writing them with the brush when I was interrupted.

"Court Lady Y/N, please prepare the feast tonight on the 7th Prince's return." My ears perked up, my heart caved in that it painfully felt good, suddenly it felt like I waited for this man for thousands years. The long nights alone are gone, and finally, the full moon is only a few days away. I can finally live the life I wish to live and be with the person I love. "Double the food and pick a larger area for the feast, he has brought his fiancée with him and the lady's family."

I stood still after hearing that, I dropped the brush I was holding. "His what?"

"Fiancée."

My heart was heavy, and tears immediately held themselves within my eyes. I responded to her with an affirmative nod, and bowed, indicating that she may leave.

I extended my arms and placed my hands on the table. I pulled my head down, and closed my eyes tight trying to prevent myself from crying. But my tears and heart betrayed me, as the tears continuously fall onto the paper, blotching what I had written so far. I bit my lip as I try to sit back down to calm myself down.

What can I do? I'm merely a lady who works at the court and tend to the princes, my rank is nowhere near theirs, how can I fight for him in a fair fight in this world?

I was outside, tending to the plants that has been cut for the use of it as a decorative ornament, when he arrived. "The 7th Prince has returned!" I turn my head.

"Princess Jangmi and her family have arrived."

The other lower ranked ladies buzzed around and started gossiping. "That must be Prince Jungkook's fiance!"

"Oh wow she's a beauty alright."

She was a goddess. Probably, the prettiest one I have ever seen.

I observed them from afar, The couple taking the lead as her family walked behind them towards the main hall. I stood behind a tree.

Jungkook was walking with Princess Jangmi at his tow, but he stopped walking and my heartbeat stopped because I thought he was going to turn to look at me, but he didn't. He tilted his head back, peeking upon the princess, Princess Jangmi was simply walking straight looking down and she accidently bumped to Jungkook's back. She looked up at him and smiled sheepishly, he offered her a smile and chuckled turning to face her to say something. They walked side by side together after that encounter.

Jungkook seems fond of her, she was endearing that even I was enamoured by her. It will always start that way, subtle smiles and eye-contacts, give them a few months and I'm sure they'll be all over each other. I don't think I can bear to see that happen with my eyes.

"Court Lady, the Emperor is asking for you to thank you and give you a toast for the feast you have prepared."

I sighed and proceeded to show myself, I have been standing behind the tree for quite a while. "I heard he's planning on granting you a wish my lady." My lips quiver and I continuously blinked my eyes to refrain the tears from falling.

"Let's go." I said as I walked out of my room. I did my absolute best for the preparation for this feast, to be granted that one wish.

As I enter, the emperor didn't give me the time to react when he suddenly stood up and held his cup high. "Court Lady Y/N, a toast to you for holding a very festive and remarkable banquet for the 7th Prince's return and the announcement of his marriage." The people cheered and I heard the cups clink with each other.

My eyes stung and my heart hurt when he said the last sentence. It's ironic how in the place full of people, it has been the loneliest I have felt. I smiled as I look down and bowed respectfully to give my gratitude for the toast given for me. "You're too kind, Your Majesty."

I heard him belt a boisterous laugh, and I continued to look down. I may never be able to hold myself if I lock eyes with Jungkook.

"Then, for having done your absolute best, I shall grant you a wish. Whatever it may be, I will see to it that it happens."

I opened my mouth to say something, but quickly held myself back. Can I ask for his youngest son's marriage? Can I ask for him to cancel his marriage? "I do not deserve such a thing, your majesty."

"Court Lady Y/N, I insist."

My heart felt heavy again, and my eyes starts to feel hot. It feels blasphemous asking for this, it would be like asking to be hanged - right here, right now. I took a deep breath and opened my mouth. "I wish to leave the court, your majesty. I wish to leave near the farms and live my life quietly and contently there."

It was quiet when I finished; rather having the feeling freedom, it felt like another boulder was placed upon my shoulder, but I held my ground. They would probably have the guards to throw me in the dungeons to rot. "I shall grant you your wish, but may I ask for your further assistance for my son's marriage?"

I didn't think it was possible but my heart broke more than it already has when I heard about this favor. I wanted to be gone by the time the wedding came, but it was a price to pay for the freedom I have always wanted. "That I shall, your majesty." I said bowing.

He laughed yet again, and allowed me to leave the banquet. Jungkook and I just met at the wrong lifetime, I wish to meet him in my next life and pick up our story from where we left off. Somehow, a weight was lifted off my shoulder when I thought of it this way.

The days and nights were shorter after that banquet, as if the world wants the marriage to happen as soon as possible. I prepared for the feast of their wedding and banquet for 2 months, and I prepared it just how I wished my wedding would be like.

This will be my parting gift for Jungkook and his bride. I truly wish them the best and to thrive, though Jungkook will never be the king due to the number of older brothers he has. I believe he'll have a seat in the government, at the very least. His dreams and aspirations cannot just end because he's the youngest son. He'll be so more than what people expected him to be, and I can't wait for everyone in this kingdom to see just how amazing he truly is, how passionate he is when he loves and set his mind onto something. It kind of upsets me that I could never see this Jungkook, but I have learned that acceptance of how life is, can bring upon peace in the storm and chaos we have in our head.

I never saw nor have I been with Jungkook alone after the announcement of his marriage, up to the last night of my stay here - the day before his wedding I was set to leave early in the morning, earlier than when the birds begin to chirp and for the court to be so busy.

I made my way outside as the court ladies start to wake up and prepare the necessary things for the day. I smiled to myself, this place leaves a bittersweet taste in my mouth. And for what is best, I do not wish to return.

As I reach the last gate, the biggest gate of them all, I saw a man stand there. I hate how I knew who he was just from his silhouette.

Jungkook was standing there out in the open, I stopped walking when I was a meter away from him and I can make out his face clearly. I wouldn't admit it to myself and the world, but I'm glad I get to see his face one last time.

I realized that we are alone and I should not be meeting him anymore. I quickly scanned around my surroundings to see if someone's around. I heard him laugh, he was trying to stop it too, but was failing miserably.

"I'm glad to see that you're still as paranoid as ever Y/N," he said, still continuing his laughing. I had to stop myself from crying, it's been almost three months since I last heard his voice and he was said my name too. I missed it, I missed him so much. "I'm happy to know that there's still a part of you that I know."

"What are you doing here?" I asked looking at him. "You don't wake up until the sun is at it's peak, 7th Prince, you wake up at noon."

He didn’t answer my question, instead he smiled. "I see there's still a part of me that you know Y/N."

"Your majesty," I said, his small smile dropped.

"Jungkook." He offered, smiling slightly as I looked down.

"Jungkook," I said trying out the name that I have tried to avoid for these few months. I turn to look at him and noticed a pool of tears in his eyes, then he proceeded to bite his lower lip. "What are you doing here?"

He sighed and walked towards me. "I came to say goodbye and to apologize, which is probably long overdue but-"

I smiled at him, he's the only family and friend that I had since my stay here. I'm happy enough that he swallowed his pride to apologize to me. "Jungkook, I've forgiven you a long time ago. I know things happen for a reason and I wouldn't hold it against you." I started, looking down at his feet. I have to bid my goodbyes too, I realized. "I just want you to be happy, as you live your life to its fullest. I hope you don't get sick as much, because you refuse to stay in bed to rest, so you better watch out for your health. I hope you can fulfill your wishes of helping this country prosper, I will support you with whatever decision you make because I know it will be for the better and for the people. Be the best husband and father, because I've long foresaw that you'd be a great one! Love your family the most, because that's the backbone of a home. You know that well right?"

He just looked at his feet as I ramble on my wishes and regards for him, he'd smile a little with the things I say at times, but his eyes remain hidden. "Y/N, I don't know where to start. I- I wish it was better for you- I wish I was better for you, I wish I was stronger to face the society, but I couldn't even fight for the love I wanted. My marriage was a peace treaty between the two kingdoms and-"

He stopped himself because he was crying too much. I pursed my lips together, has he been hurting all this time? I wish I had the right to comfort him, to make things right with him, to be more courageous and fight the world for my love. 

"Jungkook you have to be strong. This is what destiny has brought to us and we can do nothing but to accept. I wish I was valorous in asking for you to leave with me when the Emperor allowed me one wish, but there are some things beyond our control." I tried to smile, I wish it looked like a smile, because I was also trying so hard to not cry and throw myself at him. Trying so hard not to hug him for the last time, and probably never let go. I looked up and notice the surroundings start to brighten, as the morning welcomes us. "I have to leave now."

He raised his head to the sky and saw the faint moon and a single star in the sky. "I wish I made you happy during your stay here, I know how much you hated it here."

I smiled at that. "You made me more than happy Jungkook, thank you." I start to walk beyond the gate and to the horse waiting for me there. I climbed up on the horse and turned to face Jungkook, for the first time that day and last for this lifetime, I showed him my tears of sadness and regret. I smiled through it and waved him goodbye.

Jungkook looked stunned and could only raise his hand beside his face, he let his own tears fall as he tried to smile back at me.

This is it, goodbye.

I turned the horse and galloped through the city and out to the farmland.

[weasleydream]

A thousand time stronger

Here is the famous Narnia imagine! I had this idea when I watched The Prince Caspian and, as some of you asked me to post it... It’s finally there! 

If you have some Narnia requests, don’t hesitate to send them (and if it’s angsty then thank you so much because who doesn’t like some angst?) 

Anyway, enjoy!

Masterlist 

(gif not mine) 

Our story takes place in a world none of us know. It was a fantastical world, a world most of children would want to visit, or would have wanted to visit during its brightest period. Now, Narnia was nothing more than the shadow of what it used to be, an apparently lifeless world invaded by heartless people. Its Golden Age had ended so many years before, its happy days disappeared in a blow of wind in the same time as the most loved Kings and Queens Narnia ever knew. 

Still unaware of what their beloved Narnia had become, in fact, still unaware they even were in Narnia, five kids were playing in the clear water of the sea after a unique experience with Magic. The oldest was Peter, it was a kind boy who wanted nothing more than to protect his siblings, even though he could be a bit strict with them, or some of them to be more precise. The oldest girl was Susan, she was soft and had the irritating habit to talk like their mother. Then came Edmund and Y/N, the twins of the family. During their childhood, they couldn’t have been more different - Edmund was as mocking and vicious as Y/N was introvert and unsure of herself. However, they were now like the two sides of a coin, they knew each other perfectly and were inseparable. The youngest was Lucy, a little girl with a big heart and a contagious smile. Together, they had reigned on Narnia during fifteen years, known as Peter the Magnificent, Susan the Gentle, Edmund the Just, Y/N the Brave and Lucy the Valiant, before being thrown again in the house of Professor Kirke. 

After a year of dreaming of it, and even if our heroes didn’t know it yet, they were back at Narnia. But if they hadn’t changed a lot - they were only a bit taller and the girls’ hair were longer - their beloved land wasn’t the same. In fact, it was so different that they didn’t recognized the beach they had contemplated during fifteen years. 

“Where do you think we are?” finally asked Edmund with his hand above his eyes to protect himself from the burning sun. 

“I thought you were more intelligent than that, Ed.” laughed Y/N. “Where do you think we can possibly be?”

“It’s Narnia, you silly.” replied Peter. 

“I didn’t remember these ruins…” muttered Edmund. 

And indeed, when they looked up, his siblings saw ruins at the top of the cliff in front of them. It was the first witness of the past splendor of the place, only a few stones carrying the wealth of their history. All intrigued by this mystery, they ventured in the woods that led to the old castle and, enjoying the shadow provided by the trees that were definitely calm, they began to explore. Suddenly, and as usual in these situations in which her elders lacked of imagination, Lucy understood where they were. She placed her siblings in front of the little piles of rocks that had once been thrones. 

“Imagine columns, and a roof made of glass.” she said. “This is Cair Paravel!”

The joy had been quite short, because this realization was accompanied by another one, much more worrying and even sad. 

“It can’t have been that long.” murmured Y/N. 

“It can, remember the time isn’t the same in here.” replied Susan. 

“You know what it means?” If her smile was contagious, Lucy’s tears were too. “All our friends… Mr Tumnus, Mr and Mrs Beaver… They are gone.”

After a few minutes of silence, the time for the Pevensies to process these news, these decided to continue their exploration. Now that they knew where they were, it was much easier to get their bearings. 

“Oh, I didn’t remember this corridor!” said Lucy as she walked between two stone lines.

“Look, this is the orchard!” exclaimed Edmund. 

“Come here!” shouted Peter. “Remember this door?”

“The Treasure Room?” asked Susan. “I hope it’s intact!”

And intact it was, with all the treasures they remembered and the ones they had forgotten. At the end of the room aligned five massive trunks. Lucy precipitately opened hers to find her dagger and her Cordial. She also showed Susan a dress she had worn when she was an adult. She was amazed at the size. After the most adult answer Susan could have given her (“That’s because you were taller!”), Edmund and Y/N exchanged an amused look and opened theirs in the same movement. The first thing Y/N saw in her trunk was her sword. She grabbed it, not fearing a second the rust, and drew it. The blade was still as perfect as the last time she had seen it, with all the engravings retracing all the battles she had won alongside Edmund, Peter and sometimes Lucy. A nostalgic sigh escaped her lips when she gently passed her thumb on the oldest engraving. Battle of Beruna. She could remember it as perfectly as if it had happened the day before, the blood rushing in her head, the adrenaline when the two sides had met, the sickening fear when Edmund had been injured, the anger and desire of revenge she had felt just after. It had marked the beginning of the happiest era of her life, for sure. 

During the following hours, all the Pevensie siblings began to feel more like the Kings and Queens they had been, and less like the children that had just left England. And with that, the tensions between Y/N and Peter became more and more present. For a long time, Peter had been really hard with the twins, always reprimanding them as soon as he had the occasion. Susan was also like this. Things had changed with Edmund after the Battle of Beruna, when he had been hurt and Peter had thought he would lose him. Since this day, he had been less on his nerves with him, and slightly less with Y/N too, but it was nothing comparable. When they had come back in England and left for school, they hadn’t seen each other a lot and it hadn’t been a problem. But as they were walking in the woods to find Prince Caspian, Y/N was feeling like she would scream just to get this out of her. The way Peter was giving orders around, the way he was holding his head a bit higher than needed, it was really irritating and not really respectful for Trumpkin the dwarf. 

The little group finally reached the camp where Caspian was with the Old Narnians. After the presentations, Y/N decided to explore the surroundings and left Edmund and Peter to their council to follow Lucy and Susan. Together, they wandered between fauns, dwarfs and all types of animals. They were sharpening blades or chatting, but it gave the girls all sort of memories. 

“What three girls like you are doing here?”

It was a little faun, apparently really young. 

“We’re just walking around.” said Lucy. 

“Oh, Lucy, look!” exclaimed Y/N, who hadn’t really paid attention to the faun. “Are they mice?”

Indeed, twelve mice were proudly walking toward the mound. 

“Lucy?” repeated the faun. “Are you… Are you the Queens? Queen Lucy, Queen Susan and Queen Y/N?” 

“Absolutely.” approved Y/N. 

The little faun’s eyes became round, and he didn’t lose a second before rushing to the first friend of his he saw, exclaiming with big moves the Old Kings and Queens were here. Soon, a crowd formed around the girls and Y/N, who hated all this royal attention, managed to escape and joined Edmund, Peter and Caspian in the mound. 

The ambience was way more tensed in there, and soon, Y/N learned that the actual king, Miraz, was Caspian’s uncle and an usurpator. His army was here, ready to defeat Caspian’s and kill his nephew. They knew Aslan was the only one that could offer them a victory, but they needed time. 

“A duel.” finally proposed Peter. “A duel that will end with the death of one of us. Either Miraz or me.”

No one found a better idea and an order was immediately written. Peter handed it to Edmund, and Y/N followed him outside. The twins joined the camp of the enemy and the crowd of Telmarine soldiers opened in front of them. They glared at the two Narnians and whispered on their passage. 

“Are they the famous twins? The ones deemed to be invincible if they fight together?”

“I had never seen a girl with a sword…”

“They don’t seem that dangerous.”

“You kidding?”

To be fair, seeing them walking that calmly in the middle of the enemies, shining in their armours perfectly polished, was simply impressive. Edmund was slightly in front of Y/N, one of his hands holding the parchment and the other firmly gripping his belt. Y/N had grabbed casually the guard of her sword. Their faces matched with a determined look visible only in times of war, and the only thing that disturbed the calmness they had imposed themselves was the nervous habit Y/N had always had: her jaw clenched compulsively.

Edmund and Y/N didn’t answer the whispers around them, they only straightened a bit their back and kept walking at a steady pace toward the tent in the middle of the camp. The fabric was richly embroidered with gold thread, which didn’t leave a doubt about the comfort Miraz used to live in. The twins eventually reached the entrance of the tent and the two guards in front of them stepped aside after an order coming from Miraz himself. 

After all she had heard about him, Y/N had imagined a terrible man, intimidating with a royal stature which would have helped him keeping the throne of Narnia despite him not being legitime. But in fact, he looked like an usurpator in her opinion. Each of his features showed how perfidious and contemptuous he was. Even Peter didn’t lift his head that high - Miraz seemed to be an arrogant man. 

After the usual presentations, which caused the nobles around Miraz to look at Edmund and Y/N both in amusement and disbelief, the discussion eventually came to the duel. Miraz listened to Edmund as he read the order while Y/N watched carefully at each person present in the tent. None of them inspired her trust and she had the unpleasant impression that no matter which arrangement was adopted, it wouldn’t be respected by the Telmarines. 

After a sign of the usurpator, Edmund and Y/N left the tent to let him the time to think about his decision. 

“Tell me again, why do we think they’ll respect our engagement?” asked Y/N. 

“I know.” replied Edmund. “I don’t trust them either. But we need time, we need to keep them busy until-”

“Until Aslan is ready to help us, I know.”

A silence followed, during which both imagined how bad things could go if they were betrayed. Of course, none of them would have said it out loud, and that for two reasons. The first was that they didn’t need words to communicate. One look, one gesture was enough for them to understand the other. The second reason was that they were too worried and didn’t want to worry more the other. It had always been kinda like this, but this overprotectiveness had reached its peaks during their first time in Narnia, when Edmund had left alone to find the White Witch. Y/N knew something was wrong, and she knew her twin wouldn’t have let her alone like this without a good reason. She had defended him in front of Peter and Susan, Lucy being too kind and too young to blame him, and it was from this moment that her relation with Peter had become worse. When Edmund had finally been rescued, when he had seen by himself how worried Y/N had been, he had sworn he would do anything for her not to be worried anymore. When she had seen how distraught her dear Ed was, Y/N had sworn the same thing. Of course, they had forgotten they could read each other like an open book, and they just lost the habit to formulate their fears with words. 

Maybe seeing the twins silent had given the Telmarines the courage to approach, fact is that they began to laugh just under their nose. 

“I’ve always said that a lady with something cutting in the hands is the most stupid thing that can happen.” 

The soldier who had said that was a tall man with a mocking grin. Apparently proud of his intervention, he elbowed the man next to him who laughed. The Pevensies couldn’t know that, but the second man had a painful memory of his wife threatening him with a knife while she was slicing the meat for the diner and tripping at his feet, cutting his arm in passage.

“Or the most dangerous.” replicated Edmund, who was particularly proud of his sister. 

“Is it true that you’re two of the best swordsmen of your time?” asked a young soldier. He seemed more impressed than the others. 

“Maybe you can show us!” It was the first soldier. Y/N rolled her eyes and Edmund shook his head. 

“No offense boy, but I really would like to see your sister in action.”

Maybe he had heard enough stories to know Y/N was easy to provoke, fact is that the solder touched the reckless part of her and despite Edmund muttering it wasn’t a good idea, Y/N got up and drew her sword. 

“You want to see me fight?” she asked. “Fine. Attack me.”

The three men were less proud now that a crowd was forming around them. 

“Come on Y/N, don’t play with them and do it quick, we don’t have all day!” shouted Edmund. 

No sooner said than done, in only a few movements no one saw precisely, except Edmund who had seen her fight a thousand times, Y/N had won the fight. The three soldiers were on the ground with their mouths wide open. Edmund snickered and shook his head when his twin complained about how easy it had been. However, his attitude changed immediately when one of the soldiers, the one who had provoked Y/N, got up silently and readied to attack her by behind. One look at his brother warned her and she turned around at the speed of light to grab the collar of his chainmail and position his own sword under his chin. 

“Don’t ever do that again.” she hissed. 

The soldier was simply terrified, and that was understandable: he had in front of him Y/N Pevensie, a dangerous girl whose reputation had traveled the ages, who was known by every Narnian like the most skilled swordswoman of history, and who formed with Edmund (who was now standing behind her) an invincible duo. Y/N eventually let go of him and tiptoed to watch him in the eyes. 

“If I were you, I would pray to not cross me during a battle, or else you’re dead.”

And she gave him her back to sit back on the tree stump she was initially on. The crowd quickly dispersed, and no one noticed the humiliated soldier rushing in the tent. Roughly five minutes later, Miraz got out and walked directly toward Edmund and Y/N who stood up even though they didn’t respect this man at all. 

“Does it amuse you to play with my soldiers?”

This question full of contempt was for Y/N, and the girl felt her blood boiling. She could practically feel Edmund’s warning radiating behind her and, at the cost of a great effort, she relaxed. 

“Your soldiers wanted to see me fight.” she replied. “I couldn’t deny them this honour.”

This was maybe her biggest flaw. Y/N, in the very same way as Edmund, was someone very sarcastic and was simply unable to measure when sarcasm was allowed and when it wasn’t. Useless to precise right now, it absolutely wasn’t. 

“I don’t think they’ve all had the opportunity to see you,” began Miraz, “and I didn’t have either. I accept the duel against your brother with the condition that you fight against twenty of my best soldiers. If you win, the duel will take place. If you lose, your brothers, sisters and Caspian will die. If you don’t accept, my army will attack yours when the Sun will be at its zenith. Now, if you need me, I’ll be in my tent.”

And Miraz left, persuaded he had found the way to get rid of all of his enemies. A long silence took place between Edmund and Y/N, the first one fearing his sister’s decision and the latter regretting bitterly her behavior. Unconsciously, they had both glanced at the Sun, but they knew it was still early in the morning. Now, all that they had to do was take a decision, and Y/N was on the verge of accepting, after all she was the responsible of this situation, but Edmund took the lead. 

“We go back to our camp. Peter will decide what to do.”

“The decision is already taken.” groaned Y/N. 

She wasn’t angry at Edmund, of course. She was mentally scolding herself for having been so pretentious and, even though she would never admit it, she was pretty afraid too. 

“There’s no way you’ll fight them, Y/N.” said Edmund. “I won’t let you.”

And he left at a quick pace, obliging Y/N to follow him. They gained back their camp in a total silence, where they found Peter and Caspian discussing strategies with Trumpkin and Cornelius. When he saw his siblings’ expressions, both matching in a mix of fear and anger, Peter immediately understood something had gone wrong. 

“Where are Susan and Lucy?” asked Y/N. 

“Gone.” replied Peter. “What happened? He didn’t accept?”

Edmund glared at Y/N, and even though Peter knew it wasn’t actual anger, it still was so unusual that he began to imagine the worst things that could happen. Above all, Edmund seemed decided to let his twin talk on her own. 

“No! He accepted… Well, kinda.” muttered Y/N. 

“Kinda? Tell me what happened.” Now, Peter was beginning to worry too. 

“He’ll fight with you if I beat his twenty best soldiers in a round.”

She had talked so low that Peter wasn’t sure he had heard correctly. Y/N explained how it had happened, how the three soldiers had provoked her and how she had effortlessly beaten them. Then she added in a small voice that all of their lives were on her. At this point, Peter was pacing and, if Y/N had had the same connexion with him that she had with Edmund, she would have seen he wasn’t angry either but worried sick. But she didn’t know, and the shame made her keep her head down. 

“You won’t let her fight, right?” asked Edmund. 

Peter stayed silent, trying his best to imagine how things could go if they were attacked a few hours later. Of course he didn’t want to let his little sister fight, but he had a big responsibility on him and feelings couldn’t be good. 

“You can’t forbid me.”

Y/N had gained her courage back and was decided to assume her mistake. There was no way everyone would be thrown in a battle lost in advance if she could prevent it. And at this moment, she was sure she could beat these soldiers and she wasn’t worried for her siblings’ life, along with Caspian’s one. 

“Everyone, out.” said Peter with his autoritary voice.

Everyone left, the last being Edmund who refused to let this decision be taken without him and had to be dragged by Caspian. 

“Peter I swear you better take the good decision!” he screamed just before disappearing after a particularly violent push from Caspian. 

A long silence took place in the mound. Peter was still pacing and Y/N, waiting not so patiently for his decision. After a few minutes, Peter felt observed and he glanced at his sister. 

“Don’t look at me like this Y/N. You won’t fight.”

“You can’t-”

“Yes I can!” shouted Peter. “And if I really need to use this argument; then I’ll do it: I am the High King and you have to obey me.”

It was all he shouldn’t have said, because it put Y/N in such an anger that she rushed toward him and stopped a few centimeters only from him. 

“You may have been the High King,” she hissed, “but I have been a Queen. I have never let anyone give me orders and I won’t start today. Whether Ed likes it or not, whether you like it or not, I will fight. I made a mistake and I have to make up for it, that’s all.”

“And if you’re killed?” Peter was getting crazy. How could he make her understand how much he wanted her to be safe?

“Then I hope you’ll be smart enough to not be killed on the spot.” For a split second, her voice shook and Y/N prayed for Peter not to have heard it. But he had, and it had made his heart sting. “But it doesn’t matter. I won’t lose.”

“You can’t know that!” he exclaimed. “You see, you’re not mature enough to be involved in all of this! You never think, you-”

“It’s not a question of maturity Peter! I do not have the choice, it’s different. Don’t think one second I’ll let you die…” she added with a lowest voice. 

“And you don’t have to die either. If we let him attack-”

“That’s exactly what we wanted to avoid! If we let Miraz attack, then we’re dead. All of us. You said it yourself. We can’t count on Aslan, that’s why we need to gain time. And this time, I’ll gain it for you.”

With that, Y/N left without waiting for his answer. The fact is that Peter knew she was right, but he wasn’t ready to let her risk her life. He had always been especially hard on her, but he loved her with every fiber of his heart. If only he could have taken her place, he would have done it without any hesitation, but Miraz had been clear. If Y/N didn’t fight, they were attacked. However, he gained back his senses soon enough to yell “You stay on the camp!” just before murmuring “That’s an order you better follow.”

Of course, Y/N didn’t have any intention to follow this order, not this one after all the ones she had ignored and especially coming from Peter. She was looking for a horse when Edmund grabbed her arm. 

“Can I know where you think you’re going?”

“Looking for you.” she lied. “Peter wants to talk to you.”

She had always been unable to lie to Edmund, and the latter saw perfectly through it. He narrowed his eyes, probably ready to tie her in order to keep her safe when, by an exceptional coincidence, Peter’s voice echoed. He was calling for Edmund. The boy reluctantly let go of Y/N’s arm and gave her his back. She knew he would take apart the first faun or minotaur he would see to tell him to watch her, which was why she didn’t have a lot of time. She innocently walked toward the nearest horse and, when she was just next to the animal, she jumped on its back. Unfortunately, Edmund had seen her and immediately shouted her name. 

That didn’t stop Y/N and she exhorted her horse to go faster. If all her blood hadn’t rushed in her head blocking every sound around her, she would have heard him screaming her name with a desperation he had never shown or even felt. All she could think was that she had to fight, even if she had to lose her life. It was for her siblings, who she loved more than anything. It was for Caspian, who had proven to be an excellent prince and friend. It was for Narnia, which was her second home. 

Y/N reached the enemies’ camp way faster than the first time. She rushed in Miraz’ tent, pushing aside the two guards at its entrance in passing, and only stopped when she was in front of the wooden table. She extended an arm, her eyes fixing the usurpator. 

“My brother agreed.”

And they shook hands at the very moment Edmund entered the tent, hit by a wave of pure terror when he couldn’t help but think it could be one of the last times he saw her alive. 

The grass under her body was soft, as it had always been in Narnia. It was way more comfortable than the grass of our world, and it gave Y/N the feeling she was lying on a cloud. She was far enough from the camp to only hear the lapping of water that flowed lazily somewhere on her right. She was used of the woods, used of listening carefully each noise, and she immediately heard the steps that came closer and closer to her. She didn’t try to hide, though, because she knew it was Edmund and she wanted nothing more than to see him. 

“You should eat something.” 

She didn’t answer, not because she wasn’t hungry but because the restraint in his voice was something she had never heard, and for the very first time, she couldn’t understand if Edmund was angry or not. 

“Y/N, the meat is cooling down.”

“I’m not hungry.” she said with the most calm voice she could. 

“You should-”

“I told you no, Ed!”

Y/N had shouted and immediately regretted it. Edmund sighed and stepped closer. Until then, he had waited standing a few meters away. He let himself fall on the ground and laid just next to Y/N. 

“Are you afraid?” he finally asked. Y/N could feel his eyes on her. 

“No…” she lied. “Not for me, anyway.” It was a bit more true. 

“I am.” Saying Y/N was surprised would be an understatement, and she looked at her twin in disbelief to meet his teary eyes. “I’m afraid to lose you and... and so is Peter.”

“It won’t be the first time I risk my life.”

“It’s different, Y/N.”

She didn’t find anything to reply, and Edmund stayed silent. He had closed his eyes too, and his thought were monopolized by only one thought, or more precisely, one memory: the day, so many years before, when he had been rescued from the Witch’s camp. 

Edmund was walking next to Aslan. He had been afraid of the big Lion, afraid that he would think he was the worst traitor he had ever met, and the worst was that Edmund thought he would have been right. The sun was getting down, and illuminated all the camp in a delicate golden colour. Aslan was silent, and all of sudden, a kind of purr could be heard; it was like if it came right from his heart. 

“Tell me what you are fearing, Son of Adam.”

Edmund didn’t know what to answer and stayed silent. He feared so much things that he didn’t know which one the Lion wanted to hear, plus, he didn’t want to be seen as a coward. 

“Your brother and your sisters won’t blame you forever, don’t worry.” At this moment, Edmund knew Aslan had guessed his worst fear. “You should go and see them.”

Indeed, Y/N, Peter, Susan and Lucy were waiting for him in front of a big tent. Edmund slowly approached them, not completely reassured by the Lion’s words, but Y/N didn’t wait and ran toward him. She threw her arms around him and tightened him almost painfully. She was muttering something under her breath, something only Edmund could have heard if only he wasn’t murmuring himself. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

When, after what felt like hours, the twins eventually pulled apart, their eyes met and Edmund’s heart broke a bit when he saw the tears in Y/N’s eyes. At this instant, he swore to himself he would always protect her, whatever the cost. 

And protect her he had always tried his best to do. Y/N had become his absolute priority, he wanted to make up for all the tears she had shed because of him. That’s why he had always stayed by her side, in parties and during battles, he had always been there for her and had never really shared his own worries, wanting to take care of Y/N’s first. 

The problem was that Y/N had done the exact same thing. From this day when he had finally come back, when she had seen the desperation and infinite shame in his eyes, she had understood Edmund wouldn’t be truly happy until he would finally be able to understand it wasn’t completely his fault, and that no one would hate him for that. She had made a point to always show him she was here no matter what. She had done everything to hide her own problems, considering Edmund’s ones were way more important. 

That’s why, without even knowing it, they had developed a silent language between them, one that would reveal each of their fears, each of their wounds, a language that reversed all the efforts they had made to erase themselves. 

They stayed silent like this during a quite long time, maybe an hour, and only moved when the sound of a horn echoed. Two short sounds followed by a longer one. It was time. 

Y/N found herself like paralyzed, unable to make any move, not even when Edmund got up. He gently grabbed her hand and that helped her getting out of her trance. She got up.  

“You still have time to refuse.” he murmured. 

“You know I won’t.” 

Edmund wanted to roll his eyes but he decided against it, not wanting to do anything that could possibly upset Y/N. 

“Yeah, I know. Foolish hope, when you hold us… Come on,” he said while passing an arm around her shoulders, “I will help you to get ready. You will let me help you right?”

“Of course.”

Since the moment she had hurriedly left the camp to go to Miraz’s, Y/N hadn’t seen Peter once. Edmund led her in her tent and helped her putting on her armor, which she had taken off before hiding in the woods. Then he grabbed her sword and give it to her. 

“Don’t wanna force you to be violent,” he said with his famous smirk, “but I hope you’ll slice them all.”

He was only pretending to not be terrified, of course.

Outside, both camps were reunited around a square delimited by ropes. To get there, Edmund and Y/N crossed the crowd of old Narnians who solemnly stepped aside on their passage. By now, they all knew what kind of agreement had been done, and they all thought Y/N couldn’t possibly win this. 

Peter was waiting for them next to the improvised arena. His jaw was clenched and his arms crossed, but his nervous steps as he paced along the rope showed how worried he was. The twins finally joined him, and Y/N found herself regretting bitterly Lucy and Susan’s absence. She didn’t feel that confident anymore, and she would have wanted to tell them goodbye. On the other hand, if she lost, her sisters would be far enough to hide. 

“Ed,” she murmured. Edmund immediately turned his head to look at her. “Can you send someone warn Lucy and Susan?”

Edmund’s jaw clenched and he looked away. After a second, Y/N understood it was because asking him that was like admitting she would lose. 

“Please Ed, I just want to be sure they are safe.”

He finally nodded weakly, and both his and Y/N’s gazes followed Peter’s one. Their elder was looking at the twenty men aligned in front of them, most of them tall and broad. Miraz was slowly walking in front of them, giving his back to the Narnians and probably giving his soldiers advices or orders. The usurpator had put on his shiniest armor for the occasion. Suddenly, Peter placed himself in front of Y/N and grabbed her shoulders. 

“Listen to me.” He was whispering so that Y/N and Edmund, who had moved closer, were the only one that heard what he was saying. “Miraz thinks brutal strength will be enough to beat you, but you have the advantage of the speed. The best you can do is tiring them until they get slow enough for you to attack without being touched. Okay?”

Y/N nodded and put all her bravery in this small movement. However, all her courage was certainly not a lot as she began to slightly shake. She had a bad feeling about this, something she felt on her blood and her bones. Peter, when he saw how distraught his little sister was, did something he had never done before: he engulfed her in a strong embrace, a bone-crushing hug quite uncomfortable with the armors but oh so warming in their hearts. Y/N wrapped her arms around her brother and tightened him as firmly as she could and, even though none of them said anything, they knew something was definitely different between them. If Susan had been here, she would have smiled tenderly, savouring the first demonstration of love Peter and Y/N had shown to each other in years. 

Peter eventually let go of her and softly ruffled her hair. 

“You can do that Y/N. I believe in you.”

Then Peter took a few steps backwards and Edmund practically jumped at her neck. He almost choked her to death, but she didn’t say anything because these signs of affection were rare with Edmund and she wanted to enjoy it as long as she could. She expected to see the same look as in the forest, but the determination burning in his eyes almost burnt her too and she felt as ready as she could ever be. 

“You can win Y/N.” said Edmund. “You’re the best, you can beat them all without any difficulty.”

Y/N nodded, more firmly this time, and entered the arena. The encouragements of her brothers echoed in her ears, and she felt like she could move mountains. 

The first man took a step forward. The fight began. 

Y/N was whirling like a dancer, her gestures full of grace as she stroke powerful blows. Her sword shone under the sun, along with her polished armor, her black hair flying around her and forming an aura. Everyone, Narnian or Telmarine, understood Y/N’s reputation in the stories: it seemed like it wasn’t a girl in front of them, but a demon. 

The first five guys were beaten rather quickly. Y/N hadn’t been seriously injured, except after the third soldier had hit her head violently; she had staggered a bit but had gained back her senses soon enough to send his head flying. She did as Peter had said: her strategy was to provoke them, forcing them to attack while she just jumped out of their league. However, this strategy had two flaws: first, it was hard for her too, and the fifth soldier had understood. From this point, she didn’t have any other choice than to always take the first attack, and the fights became more fierce and violent than before. The seventh soldier brought her her first serious injury, a long cut at the base of the neck. 

When his sword had cut her flesh, Edmund’s heart had almost stopped. YN had taken a few steps back, just the time to evaluate the damages, before jumping on him with a renewed vigour. He had sighed, thanking Aslan she was still alive, and glanced at Peter’s pale face. A scream in the crowd had made him focus again on the fight to see his twin killing the seventh soldier. 

Y/N had thought maybe she had a chance. The first soldiers hadn’t been too hard to beat, and she had truly hoped she could get through this. But this hope had vanished a long time ago: the more injuries she got, the closer she saw her death. Her body was aching, every fiber was protesting against her movements. Her muscles were burning, her head was painful both because of the blows and the sun. She was sweating so much that she had to grip her sword harder to not let it fall. Her lungs seemed to be unable to continue bringing air in her body, and after a desperate assault during which she pierced her enemy’s stomach, she fell on her knees and noticed absentmindedly a dagger hidden in his belt. 

The fourteenth soldier had already taken a step forward, but in spite of killing her on the spot, he offered her a helpful hand. 

“You need some time?”

“Five minutes.” she whispered. 

The soldier nodded and helped her getting up. Immediately, she felt two pairs of arms behind her, and when she turned around she met Edmund and Peter’s worried faces. Without losing a second, they half dragged her to their side of the arena and sat her on bench that had been brought here for her. Peter examined her head, constantly rambling about how great she had been and how she could win, while Edmund cleaned the cut of her neck without a word. She noticed his hands were slightly shaking and for a second she felt bad. 

“Let me alone, please.” she murmured. 

Peter stopped, glanced worriedly at her and left. Edmund hadn’t made a move, yet Y/N had grabbed his wrist to make sure he would stay. 

“I wasn’t going to let you.” he said. 

“I know.”

They stayed silent a few seconds during which both of them tried to find something to say. 

“Ed, I wanted to tell you in case I…” Finishing this sentence was too hard. 

“In case you nothing Y/N. You can do it, I know you can.” Edmund looked like he was trying to convince himself. “You won’t die, you hear me? I told you Y/N, I can’t lose you.”

And he hugged her tighter than before, and she hugged him weaker than before because her strength was missing. 

“I’m sorry…” 

It came in a broken breath, a weak and pathetic sound that yet broke Edmund’s heart. All of sudden, and for the very first time, he was crying, bitter tears rolling on his cheeks as his twin, his second half, gave up on her shell and showed how terrified she was. 

“Don’t do that… Don’t do that Y/N, I don’t want…”

“Ed, I need to tell you-”

“No!” he exclaimed. “Why don’t you tell Peter? Why don’t you want to see him? Why do I have to be the only one to hear your apologies? Why do I have to be the only one you say farewell to?”

Y/N wiped a tear from her face. Now, it was clear: the both of them knew she would lose and die. 

“Because it will be easier for him that way.” she replied in a whisper. 

“And me? Did you- did you think about me? Why don’t you make it easier for me too?”

“I don’t know how to do that, Ed!” cried out Y/N. “But I can’t… Without you, I just- I can’t do that, Ed! If you don’t help me, I won’t be able to go back there and to fight; if you-”

She had stopped so brutally because Edmund had hugged her once more, one last desperate embrace to show her how much he loved her and why she couldn’t possibly lose. 

“I love you Y/N.” He murmured in her hair. “You have to come victorious, you don’t have the choice, okay? Promise me.”

“I promise.”

And she got up, a new strength in her, something that felt like desperation but that gave her the impression she could swim beyond the biggest ocean and climb the highest mountain. She walked toward the last seven soldiers but after only a few steps, she vivaciously turned around and ran directly toward Peter. She jumped on him, making him stumble a bit before gaining back his balance and holding tightly his little sister. 

“I’m sorry Peter,” she murmured, “so sorry… Please, if I lose, please, don’t let yourself get killed. Protect Ed, Lucy and Susan, and Caspian, and Narnia, Peter, please…”

“Of course Y/N, of course.” he replied. “But you have to promise me you’ll do your best to win, promise you’ll fight like the lioness you are.”

Y/N smiled and nodded. 

“Peter, I…” She had never said it to him, but she needed him to know. If she couldn’t keep her promise, Peter had to hear it at least once. “I love you, big brother.”

And Peter, with the heart heavier than it had ever been, kissed lightly her hair. 

“I love you too, little sister.”

Y/N eventually let go of Peter, exchanged a last glance with Edmund, and gained back her place in the middle of the arena. The last seven soldiers were in front of her, all of them looking more impressive than the others. The girl had the terrible impression to be in one of these apocalyptic scenes you can see in the movies. She was facing her enemy, all alone and looking so insignifiant, surrounded by thirteen lifeless bodies, her steps in blood rivers printed on the ground. 

She was ready to attack as soon as the signal would be given, but she certainly didn’t expect Miraz to slowly walk toward her. He lifted an hand, probably to say that Peter and Edmund had to stay where they were, and murmured something in Y/N’s ear. 

“Each of these soldiers are stronger than the first thirteen reunited. Good luck,dear Queen.”

He left with a little smile, placed himself between his big chair and the wooden table he had put his helmet, sword and shield on, and gave the signal. 

Y/N had hoped Miraz had just tried to discourage her, but it was clear that he was right. The soldiers were way stronger, each of their blows hitting like a rock with the speed of light. Y/N was running on empty, her breathing became more and more rapid and her moves slower and slower. The weight on her heart, knowing that Peter and Edmund hoped she would get out of this alive, was almost too much for her to bear. 

However, against all odds for Miraz and the Telmarines, like they had expected for Edmund, Peter and the Narnians, Y/N fought incredibly well. She had turned her desperation into a force and, like each person that doesn’t have anything to lose, she had become simply dangerous. She took risks, she got hurt, but she killed several soldiers. One, two, three, four. Only three left. The victory had never been closer and, for the first time since the beginning, she seriously considered the thought that she could win. 

She should have known. The last three soldiers walked simultaneously toward her, drawing their sword in the same movement, two of them stepping aside to surround her. Of course, it was Miraz’s order. If by miracle, she beats seventeen of you, you three, you fight together against her. She can’t win, understood? 

The true fight began. From the corner of the eye, she saw the first man attempting to hit her. She dodged and attacked another. A sword touched her leg, another her arm. She dived to the ground. Rolled, jumped. She fell, bled, screamed, attacked. One hit her straight in the jaw, and she fell backward. She rolled and striked a body. Two swords threatened to finish her. Her eyes fell on the hidden dagger. No time to think. She grabbed the dagger, threw it on a man’s face, pierced the other’s body, rolled to dodge the last. 

It took all her strength to get up and look at the man in front of her. Her knees were shaking, threatening to give up on her at every moment. She was giving her back to her family, and she couldn’t see their broken expression. 

Because Edmund knew when she was exhausted. He knew when Y/N couldn’t move anymore, and he knew she felt like that at this very moment. Peter still hoped she would find the energy to kill the last one, he hoped she could get him by surprise if she attacked quickly enough. Both screamed when she fell back on her knees while letting go of her sword, and when she looked down, as if she was accepting her fate. As if she was ready to die. 

“Y/N!” screamed Peter. 

“No! Y/N, NO!” 

Edmund tried to join his twin to protect her, but Peter had grabbed him, himself being held by Caspian. They didn’t notice Y/N slightly jumping when she heard them. The sword of the Telmarine seemed to fell on her in slow motion, and Peter and Edmund saw it hit her back. At the same moment, the soldier fell backward, Y/N on the top of him. 

The following seconds seemed to last hours, everyone looking in disbelief at the two immobile bodies. Then, slowly, very slowly, her groans covered by the cheers of the Narnians, Y/N got up. Her chainmail had protected her, and in a desperate attempt, she had jumped on the solder to tackle him on the ground, her arm extended and her sword ready to kill. 

Peter and Edmund rushed toward her. Y/N turned around and fell in Edmund’s arms. 

“You did it! Y/N you did it!” Edmund had never felt so relieved in his life. “You scared me, don’t ever do anything like this anymore!”

“I can’t promise…” she smiled weakly. “Wait, I’ve got something to do.”

Y/N dragged her exhausted body toward a soldier. She ripped the dagger from his bloodied face and walked slowly and solemnly to Miraz. With a thud, she planted the dagger in the wooden table, and the weapon shook a bit. A puddle of blood was forming around it, soaking Miraz’s weapons. He seemed infuriated and looked up to Y/N as if he could kill her on the spot. 

“Peter is a thousand time stronger than me.” She said with the most royal voice she had ever used. “If you want to stand a chance against my brother, I hope for you you’re a thousand time stronger than all these soldiers.” 

And she left without adding anything, stumbling toward her brothers. Edmund wrapped an arm around her waist, Peter around her shoulders, and they slowly joined the mound under the Narnians’ cheerings. 

[nudityandnerdery]

On Riverdale....

Archie: I started a vigilante gang to fight a serial killer. Now I'm going to jail and being put into a fight club.

Jughead: I joined my dad's biker gang, and then there was this roleplaying game people were really into that I was investigating because it was tied to real life deaths.

Betty: There was a serial killer obsessed with me, and then I've also got this dark persona that manifests sometimes when I wear a bad black wig, and also there's a cult that my mom joined, too...

Veronica: Word of my exploits serving Nick his comeuppance has seeped into the demimonde of mobsters and molls my father used to associate with, so the five families are sending their youngest and brightest, their "princes," as it were to, well, come court the rare Mafia Princess who can belly up to the bar with the big boys. Thanks to my play, the families are looking to make a business and/or political alliances with my parents. It's all very Borgia-Medici.

Cheryl: *just everything about her*

Meanwhile, on The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina...

The Actual, Literal Incarnation of Satan: Sabrina, I want you to steal a pack of gum.

[raspberryluvr]

I say this to myself in the mirror twice daily:

“Word of my exploits serving Nick his comeuppance has seeped into the demimonde of mobs and molls my father used to associate with, so the five families are sending their youngest and brightest, their ‘princes,’ as it were, to, well, come court the rare mafia princess who can belly up to the bar with the big boys.”

[babybluebex]

twelve pt. 2 (four!ben hardy)

second part! it’s a little short, but the term just started, so updated may be a little sporadic. love you all!

tags: @lapofthemusicgods @discodeakyhasmyheart​ @acceptingtheunacceptable​

song: jackie and wilson — hozier

The day after I became acquainted with everybody on the team, One called a meeting. There was a large map laid out on the table, and Blaine and One were already mumbling over it, talking tactics. Everybody filed in, and Billy came in last. He gave me a smirk and leaned up against the corner of the room, and he fished a cigarette from his pocket.

“Jesus, Billy,” Amelia scoffed. “It’s bad enough that you’re getting lung cancer, do you have to give it to all of us?”

“Yeah, take that shit outside,” One said dismissively, saving his hand in Billy’s direction as he never lifted his eyes from the map.

“It’s a British thing!” Billy exclaimed. “Domi, you smoke, yeah?”

I shrugged. “Sometimes,” I said. “But not in front of people who don’t want to.”

He narrowed his eyes at me and took a drag on the cigarette, and he said, “Alright, One. What’s up?”

“So, we’ve tracked our target,” One began. He stabbed a finger at the map, and I turned my head to read the top: Principauté de Monaco. “He’s in Monte Carlo, boozing and gambling and doing basic bad guy shit.”

“Are we killing another general again?” Camille sighed.

“No,” One said quickly. “We need some inside intel. Things he would say to impress somebody; not the brightest bulb ever, he is. So, we go undercover, we get close to him and get him to boast.”

“Is this a job for me and Cami?” Amelia asked. “And Domi, too?”

“Eight, yes,” One said. “You two, no. Seven’s staying here at base, because he’s been to Monte Carlo before and might be recognized; Two, Three, and Five are going to on the perimeter, making sure none of his crew jump ship; and Four will be interacting with the target.”

Camille scoffed. “Have him handle the important stuff?” She laughed. “It’s like you want the mission to fail.”

“Oi,” Billy said. “‘M right here.”

“I know, that’s why I said it,” Camille said, sending a kiss his way, and Billy’s scowl grew as he pulled at his cigarette.

“Well, he won’t be doing the talking,” One said slowly. “Eight will.”

The gears turned in my head. Billy and I would be on the casino floor together, getting information from the target. “Wait,” I began. “Are you saying—“

“What am I saying, Eight?” One asked, his eyes locking on mine.

“You want me and Billy to act all cozy?” I asked. “No, fuck that. Have Amelia or Camille do it, because I won’t.”

“Why not?” Billy asked. “Maybe we could get to know each other better, love.”

I threw my arm out in frustration, and I asked One, “What about you? Where are you?”

“I’ll be on the floor,” One said. “I won’t intervene, I’ll just make sure everything goes to plan; maybe intervene if things start to go south. But you and Four are the youngest and, by definition, more attractive. When this guy sees you with your husband, he’ll try to woo you. With wit or money or lewd comments, whatever he thinks. It’s essential to the whole crux of this part of the mission.”

I took a deep breath and looked over to Billy. He was looking at me, and his eyes met mine. Usually, I was so meek that I would look away when I caught someone looking at me, but I held his gaze and raised my chin. “Fine,” I said. “If that’s what it takes.��

“Perfect,” One said. “Pack your bags, gang. We head out in an hour.”

I left the room before Billy could approach me, and I went to my trailer and began to pack. I stuffed some clothes in my bag, then opened the small closet to access the rest of my stuff, and I stopped when a quiet knock sounded on my door. I went and pushed it open without looking to see who was on the other side, and I went back to packing. There was silence for a few moments, then I turned to the door. Billy stood there, one foot in, one foot out, his hood drawn and his eyes apprehensive. “Can I come in?” He asked timidly. Timidness was not something I expected from Billy, but it was a welcome change from his asshole persona he always had going.

“Sure,” I shrugged. “What’s up?”

Billy closed the door behind himself and leaned up against it, and he said, “I understand you’re not thrilled about us working together. But… I asked One specifically to be paired with you. Not because you’re pretty or whatever— which you are— but… You remind me of home.”

I turned to look at him, and I finally saw him. His arms were crossed, his shoulders drawn, his whole self retreated into his hoodie. Was he shy? The real Billy seemed to be quiet and shy, not the boisterous, flirty guy I had come to know. “I do?” I asked. “How so?”

“Even just the sound of your voice,” Billy said. “My best mate from back home was from Liverpool, and your voice reminds me of him. I just… Miss it. All of it, ya know? London was shit, but there was something to it.”

“I get it,” I said. “I miss Liverpool. I miss my mum and dad and brother, my boyfriend, my friends… This adjusting is hard. But I know that what I’m doing is for the greater good, and that makes it seem worth it. Somehow.”

“I’ve always…” Billy began. “Well, last mission, in Hong Kong, I nearly died. I told myself that, when that mission was over, I was going to leave and go back to my family, but One convinced me to stay; he’s persuasive, the absolute arse. And I tell myself that now, but I know I’ll stay. But the longer I stay, the more everyone in my life suffers.”

“How?” I asked. “Did you nearly die, I mean?”

Billy took a deep breath. “I was on top of a building,” he began. “And someone I was fighting came up and smashed the shit outta me. One told Javi, who was driving, to leave me behind, but Blaine made him stop so he could snipe my attacker away. I was almost dead. I still… I got pushed into some steel supports and sliced open my chest real nice, and I still have the scar.”

I bit my bottom lip. “I’ve got one too,” I said. “The, uh, car wreck that landed me here. My car flipped a few times, and the seatbelt locked up, and I have a huge scar going across my chest and stomach.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Billy laughed lightly. “It’s not funny, but… I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “You just wanna see my tits,” I said. “I’ve noticed you looking at them, you wanker.”

“Maybe,” Billy said. “C’mon, I’ll see it tonight in your dress. Let me know what I’m dealing with.”

“Well, if you’ll see it tonight, then you can wait until tonight,” I told him.

“You are such a tease,” Billy scoffed.

“Oh, darling,” I laughed. “You don’t know the half of it.”

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

princess alysanne of house targaryen

the miracle princess, the light of the realm

the eldest child of queen daenerys and king aegon VI 

the waves have come

ao3

the twilight is falling, lamps will soon go on and where did summer go i will never know summer used to last endlessly children all in white, running down the sand to me playing hide and seek kisses on the cheek

Upon birth, they called her The Light of The Realm, The Miracle Princess. It is told, that when her father carried her in his arms down the grand steps of the Red Keep to show her to highborn and common folk alike, the clouds parted, the sky itself opened and sunlight came streaming down to touch her soft baby hair, bleaching them into the lightest shade of gold.

It is told that she is blessed by Seven themselves, that her path is meant to be paved with greatness suppressing even that of her ancestors.

But these are just stories.

*

On the morning of her wedding day, she wakes up before dawn and lays awake in her bed for hours, watching as the sun slowly, almost lazily, rises above the horizon.

Light sparkles on the waters of Blackwater Bay and all of the ships in the harbor emerge from the shadows, with their flags of all the colors of the rainbow;  all of the noble houses and all of the cities and all of the kingdoms that maesters can name.

Except not all, because the scene could not be more foreign to her eyes.

There are no silver direwolves of Starks, nor golden stags of Baratheons.

And instead of a three-headed scarlet dragon curled around a white wolf – the sigil of her House, her sigil, the one she used to wear on her clothes and jewelry (the broth on her furs, the embroidery on her night clothes, the banner hanging behind her back) – there is only an one-headed, brown dragon on a dark background, entwined with a golden griffin.

Weeping or cursing would probably ease the knot of her insides a little and she wants to weep so badly, but she cannot even cry anymore. Her tears must have long formed a river and fallen down the sea, for her eyes remain dry and her insides are burning from a fire she doesn’t know how to put down.

Her maids come in not long after sunrise to get her ready; they flock around her like hummingbirds, nervously chatting about what a beautiful day it is and how beautiful her dress is and how beautiful she is. Their hands are shaking and their cheeks are pale. They are avoiding her gaze altogether, refusing to look her in the eyes.  All - but her cousin Cat, with her beautiful golden-red hair down in a Northern manner and face painted with steel defiance.

She is not tweeting, is not twitching, is not trembling.

This one’s not broken yet, she thinks, feeling a sudden surge of warmth blooming in her chest, and gently squeezes Cat’s hand as she helps her do the laces on the front of the dress.

As they adorn her hair with white roses, she wonders where Lyanna is.  Is she still across the Narrow Sea with Gill? There are only two paths for her sweet sister now, both depending on the answer to this question. If so, they will keep each other safe. If not, she’s lost. Lyanna is many things, but she always had much more honor in her heart than wit in her pretty dark head. She would want to come back, even if it means nothing, just another dead Targaryen or just another broodmare to sell off to a traitor. But Argella’s smart. She knows there is nothing left for them in Westeros.

Lya, mother and father are dead. – she thinks hard, as hard as she can. Maybe she can send her thoughts to Volantis somehow, someday. – Benjen is dead. The dragons are dead. Ghost is dead. And I am dead also. Don’t come back, save yourself. Save Argella, her name is gone, her House is gone.

She closes her eyes and she sees it, sees as vividly as if she truly was there to witness Aegon’s second brutal strike on Seven Kingdoms;  Storm’s End turned into another Harenhall, her aunt, uncle and cousins burned alive by the monstrous brown dragon; turned into living torches, screaming in agony, their skin peeling off and their meat falling from their charred bones.  She has seen people die this way before; she knows how it smells.  Her youngest cousin was just a babe.

House Baratheon, gone once more.

All she can do is hope that they didn’t suffer for too long. The beast fell from the sky like a giant cloud, in the middle of the night, so maybe they didn’t even register what was going on before the Stranger took them. What an irony, for her aunt and uncle, the fighters blessed by the Warrior himself, to go into the darkness like that.

A familiar shriek pierces the air as they rouge her cheeks and for a moment or two she thinks she is going to faint. Swatting handmaidens away, she comes closer to the window to look at the courtyard outside – and her blood boils instantly in her veins.  Her knuckles turn white as she grabs onto the frames and leans outside, as far as she can.

Quicksilver is right below her tower and wailing sadly, neck stretched out towards her, her amber eyes flickering. Her very soul aches at her sight. What has become of her magnificent dragon? Chained to the ground like a goat, her silvery scales matted by dried up blood and soot, her wings pierced through so that she wouldn’t be able to fly – her,  this creature made for soaring through the clouds. She looks pitiful.

The dragon shrieks again, tremble running through her body and her tail swishing. She keeps her eyes fixed on her and she suddenly realizes she’s half-hanging from the window. Wind plays with her hair.

She could jump, if she wanted to.

She could jump and spare herself all the pain and suffering that she feels.

Maybe that would be the ultimate punishment for the man that butchered her entire family; to deny him her hand, her cunt, her womb. She thinks she would look beautiful falling down from the tower, with white roses in her hair and her golden wedding gown flying around her. She would look like a stray sunray, or a falling star. People would talk about her suicide for ages to come.

And she would be the end of House Targaryen, the end of her family line, the end of her parents dreams of a better world.  Would doom Seven Kingdoms for decades of tyranny and suffering.

This is not how she was brought up.

She is The Miracle Princess, The Light of The Realm, Princess Alysanne of House Targaryen, the eldest child of Queen Daenerys and King Aegon VI. The Heir to the Iron Throne.  She knows her duty well.

She glances on the Quicksilver once again, looks her into the eyes. They blink in unison, the girl and the dragon. We must endure it, my sweet.

With a deep breath, she turns away and goes back to her now-silent maids, lets them finish her make-up and swaddle her in lace and burgundy.  Cat kisses her cheek before they leave the chambers and she kisses her back.

And with her head held high, she descends the grand steps of The Red Keep; alone this time, on a way to marry the man that stole her birthright.

The clouds have gathered and there is no sun.

*

Her maiden clock sweeps the floor behind her and, in the drowning silence, she can almost hear that sound ermine fur makes against the stone.

There are more people gathered in the Dragonpit that she has ever seen in her life and she is sure that there are even more outside on the street; rich and poor, crammed and desperate to steal even a glance of the wedding of their Princess to the foreign invader.  And yet, seemingly no one utters a word. She can hear the breeze formed by their collective intake of breath as she enters the  Pit, but no cheers, no loud gasps, nothing.

She glances at the stands. People have solemn faces. Women have tears on their cheeks.

The price we pay for peace is grand indeed, their eyes say, the eyes of remaining Lords and Ladies of Westeros, watching as she sells herself off without a word. For the Dance of Dragons would ruin the prosperity they already got used to. For the War of Five Kings and The Long Night defiled the kingdom enough for this silent vow of non-aggression to take root.

The Last War, that’s how people titled the war between her parents and Queen Cersei. And oh, they turned out right, cause when so-called Prince Aegon fell upon the Summerhall on a dragon bigger than Hill of Rhaenys and feed the ground with the blood of Targaryens once again and then burned Storm’s End to the ashes, no banners marched against him.

None – but the Starks.

With each step, she recalls a name and with a name, she recalls a face, and with a face, she recalls all the love that they have given her through the years.

Arya. Gendry. Eddard. Durran. Beric. Nymeria.

Sansa. Robert. Jaime.

Brienne.

Her mother. Her father. Benjen. Drogon. Rheagal. Dusk. Ghost.

All dead.

Joanna. Cat.

Enslaved.

Argella. Lyanna.

Lost.

Somewhere in the distance, Quicksilver wails.

The man who calls himself her cousin stands in front of the High Septon, clad in browns and golds of his banners. His dark eyes watch her hungrily, as she nears closer and closer. When he reaches out a hand to her, she takes it, lets him pull her up on the podium, lets him drink her in. Her breasts, her face, her lips.

Stone, that’s what my skin is. Solid stone.

She realizes, with a flash of recognition, that she’s standing in the exact same spot where Rheagar used to lay, her wing covering three beautiful eggs, shining brighter than the brightest jewels in her mother’s collection.

She was six at that time, six and enchanted.

“Pick the one that sings to you” mother whispered into her ear and she did. The egg that she brought to her bedchambers that day was silver speckled with gold, warm to the touch.  Within a fortnight,  her dragon hatched, tiny and perfect.

She feels nothing, nothing at all.

When she was a child, she used to have terrible night terrors that no sleeping potion could keep away and no maester could cure. So her mother has taken  to staying up all night with her, singing her lullabies in foreign languages and stroking her hair to soothe her; in the morning, they would wear the same shade of purple underneath their eyes as in their irises.

Her mother seemed so distant at times, like a goddess or a marble statue. The myth came alive. But this is when Alysanne loved her most, in those quiet, strange hours in between dusk and dawn. This is how she remembers her best; when she was stripped out of titles and honorifics and crowns. In a simple nightgown, with her hair down and smelling like lavender and lemons, her mother was the most beautiful woman that has ever lived and that was ever gonna live.

That was all she has ever wanted, to be exactly like her.

Her lips move, forming words, but she cannot even hear her own voice.  

“Be good, Alys.” Her father told her, when he was leaving to Summerhall for the last time, when she saw her parents for the last time. It was a lovely spring morning, bathed in dew and smelling like fresh starts. They were standing near the stables and he held his hands in hers, that’s what she remembers. “We’re leaving it all for you to handle. I know it’s a lot. But everything will be fine, I promise. “

He kissed her forehead then, lightly and smiled at her.

“You are so good. Never forget that, my sweet.”

She watched as they rode away, tiara heavy on her head.

Aegon’s lips are dry and cold on hers. It barely feels like kissing a man; more like kissing a sword or a dagger, like swearing fealty. He reaches for the crown – definitely new, as she has never seen it before, this circle of gold and moonstones – and places it gently on her head.

She keeps her eyes fixed on the left, where Dragonbinder rests on velvet cushions; it’s dark gleam calls to her. What would happen if she, the true Targaryen, was to blow it?

Dusk was a playful dragon, with a somehow mischevious glint in his eyes, matching the one in his brother’s.  It was a colorful stain on the blue sky, pinkish-red dot twisting in acrobatic figures that would make her mother gasp and press her hand to her heart in fear.

Benjen would just laugh, landing on the ground with grace and patting his dragon’s side like it was a horse.  She has never seen him afraid, as long as he lived. He had so much fire within him that she was sometimes almost jealous of it, but now she’s just grateful. Maybe if she was a bigger dragon she would find another way than this, but she would probably just die trying.

Because Benjen would not go down without fighting.

“Long live the King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms!” the herald announces and the crowd followed suit, obliging the unspoken command.  But there are no cheers, as the Usurper leads her down the stairs and out of the Dragon Pit. Only silence on the streets, only the wall of people with their mouths shut closed. Even Aegon’s loyal men stay quiet and for that, she starts to wonder how she looks like, what kind of expression is painted on her face.

From up high, she can see it in the distance.

With its scales of the color of the mud, it stands out against the lush greenery outside Kings Landing’s walls. It’s so enormous her mind can hardly register its full size, makes her head spin. She wonders briefly if it is how big Balerion The Black Dread got before it died. But Sheepstealer is no Balerion. He is a wild dragon still, bound to Aegon by the power of Horn alone. He does not respond to his master’s feeling, doesn’t share his pain. Doesn’t even raise his head up, deep in his slumber.

A being so old and ancient, asleep for so long until the scream of the Horn woke it up.

Maybe he wants for it all to end too.

She would love to hate this dragon but she cannot. A dragon’s not a slave, but the bond you have transcends our understanding. It wants what you want, loves who you love and hates who you hate. Its nature is fire and blood, and you cannot change it even if you wanted. The only thing you can change is yourself.

Three dragons of House Targaryen against one ancient beast that remembers the times of her namesake and that has spent last century or so sleeping in the mountains below Dragonstone. Sheepsteeler’s eyes were as big as Dusk, for gods sake. The odds were decided before they even had a chance to dance.

Alysanne has learned how to be a Queen in the summertime of peace; how to bring happiness and prosperity to her people, how to keep lands flourishing, Lords and Ladies appeased, and common folk warm and full. She is good at that, she is good, she is good, like the Silver Queen Daenerys I before her, like the Good Queen Alysanne even before.  People love her.

Summerhall was a gift of her father to her mother, for their tenth anniversary. A small, elegant castle with red oak doors and lemon trees planted around it. Impossible to defend, really.

But it was so liberating for them to be there, to leave the crowns and titles in King’s Landing and do nothing but bathe in the lake and lounge in the sun all day, sing songs and talk all night. Her aunt and uncle would often come from Storm’s End and she, her siblings and cousins would run on the lush hills; dressed in white and carefree.  

Summerhall was her parents' small kisses, exchanged when they thought nobody was looking. Was her brother's laughter and her cousins’ freckled faces. Summerhall was happiness that no one could ever take ever from her.

“We are going to build a new world.” Her husband whispers in her ear after the bedding, laying next to her and playing with locks of her golden hair. Her blood dries on her tights. “I will be your Jaehaerys and you will be my Alysanne, my Queen.”

He kisses her neck. She closes her eyes.

“My good girl”, her father said, kissing her temple tenderly, just before she rode Quicksilver for the first time.

“Family, duty, hour”, Cat said, clutching her hands and wiping away her tears, two lost girls locked in the same cell.

“We’ll see each other soon, sweet sister,” Lyanna said in the harbor, holding Argella Baratheon’s hand and beaming. “And we will have so much to catch up on.”

“You have a name after the greatest queen in the Westeros’ history.” Her mother said late at night, amongst quite whispers of burning candles. “And I am sure you will prove to be worthy of it, my daughter, my miracle.”

“To rule is to serve.” Her parents said, with their bloodshot-eyes and tired voices, with their trembling hands and post-war terrors still plaguing their minds. The greatest people she has ever met.

*

It is said that the sky itself opened after the wedding of King Aegon VII and Queen Alysanne and wept with rain for the poor princess and her fate.  It is said that it rained and rained and rained for so long and so hard that Queen’s dragon, unable to fly, drowned chained in the all the water.

But these are just stories.

[viragofm-blog]

*               girl     as     a     slicked     -     back     chignon          ,          not     a     𝘩𝑎𝑖𝑟     out     of     place          ;          chanel     no.     5     and     formaldehyde          dancing     a     fatal     tango          in     a     gentle     wave          ,          grit     of     a     sharp     jaw     and     flattened     line     of     cherry     -     lacquered     shapes          .          precise     handwriting     and          frustratingly     neat         study     guides          ,          a     neat     bullet     journal          ,          your     phone     calender     perfectly     synced          /          strict     in     your     discipline          ,          it’s     a     cup     of     𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬     𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘦     and     half     a     grapefruit     in     the     morning          ,          it’s     the     way     you     furl     yourself     around         routine          .          a     crucifix     worn     around     the     neck          ,          golden     against     pale     hollow     of          that     lovely     throat          /          a     family     heirloom     passed     down     in     a     matriarchy     quite     unlike     any     other          ,          a     photo     of     your     family     in     a     locket          .          a     poetry     anthology     with     flowers     pressed     into     the     middle          ,          all     very     ironic     of     you          .          

𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉     𝖔𝖓𝖊     .          ╱          𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙨     .

full  name:     evelyn  marianne  authier  .

aliases:     none  .  her  family  call  her  eve  sometimes  ,  but  she  goes  strictly  by  evelyn  .

age:     twenty - five  .

date  of  birth:     october  30th  ,  1994  .

place  of  birth:     paris  ,  france  .

nationality:     french  .

gender  identity:     cisgender  female  ,  uses  she/her  pronouns  .

sexual     &     romantic  identity:     pansexual  panromantic  .

alma  mater:     gallagher  university  .

major:     medical  training  .

𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉     𝖙𝖜𝖔     .          ╱          𝙗𝙞𝙤𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙨     .

evelyn  marianne  authier  comes  from  a  line  of  french  spies  whose  name  is  forever  cemented  in  the  history  books  .  the  authier  women  have  been  working  in  french  intelligence  since  world  war  ii  ,  and  rumour  has  it  that  one  of  their  ancestors  was  integral  in  bringing  down  kings  .  regardless  of  the  hushed  speculation  that  surrounds  the  authier  women  ,  their  infamy  is  felt  throughout  intelligence  agencies  worldwide  .  

she  is  raised  by  her  mother  ,  two  aunts  and  her  grandmother  .  there  are  no  men  around  ,  never  have  been  .  she  is  taught  everything  she  needs  to  know  by  her  mother  and  her  sisters  and  their  mother  ,  a  fierce  matriarchy  whose  legacy  burns  brightest  in  their  youngest  member  .

her  grandmother  ,  françoise  jean  authier  ,  worked  in  seduction  ,  a  legend  if  ever  there  was  one  /  mothered  three  girls  ,  almost  like  a  family  curse  .  no  men  ,  all  women  .  evelyn  looks  at  her  grandmother  with  a  sense  of  reverie  ,  an  awe  hidden  behind  sooty  lashes  .  françoise  teaches  her  culture  ,  takes  her  to  art  museums  and  to  theatre  shows  and  cultivates  cool  poise  and  grace  in  her  granddaughter  .  a  deep  bond  runs  between  the  two  ,  and  to  this  day  evelyn  writes  letters  to  her  grandmother  weekly  .  they’ve  never  lost  communication  ,  not  once  .

her  aunts  ,  marie  and  clementine  ,  are  assassins  ,  and  fucking  good  ones  .  as  far  as  she  remembers  ,  the  smell  of  blood  has  always  clung  to  them  like  the  sweetest  /  sickest  perfume  .  they  kiss  the  grim  reaper  on  the  cheek  three  times  a  day  ,  send  him  off  with  another  warm  body  and  smoke  cigarettes  over  dinner  .  she  admires  them  like  nothing  else  .

mother  dearest  ,  mother  with  a  heart  of  gold  reserved  only  for  her  family  .  danielle  authier  does  a  little  bit  of  everything  ,  can’t  be  pinned  down  to  one  particular  skill  --- -  she  is  a  wonderful  mother  ,  first  and  foremost  .  she  raises  evelyn  with  love  and  warmth  and  the  knowledge  that  once  her  little  girl  grows  up  ,  she  will  take  after  the  women  in  her  family  .  she  raises  her  daughter  with  pride  ,  with  joy  ,  with  everything  a  child  could  want  .  

evelyn’s  aware  of  the  family  she’s  been  born  into  ,  and  finds  pride  in  the  fact  that  she  will  grow  up  to  be  just  like  her  mother  ,  her  aunts  ,  her  grandmama   --- -  she  longs  for  the  day  that  she  becomes  one  of  them  .  even  as  a  child  ,  she  yearns  to  follow  in  their  footsteps  .  she’s  not  entirely  sure  that  seduction  is  something  she’s  capable  of  (  not  in  the  same  way  that  grandmama  is  --- -  she  doesn’t  have  the  same  cynosure  ,  doesn’t  draw  attention  with  a  golden  aura  and  a  devilish  smile  the  way  her  grandmother  is  rumoured  to  ,  even  now  )  ,  and  assassination  isn’t  quite  her  thing  either  .  

as  a  child  ,  she’s  softer  than  she  is  as  an  adult  .  there’s  something  light  in  the  way  she  smiles  /  glow  emanates  from  pink  cheeks  when  she  leaves  her  weekly  ballet  classes  ,  warm  and  gentle  and  lovely  and  when  she  grows  ,  matures  into  the  sharpened  woman  that  she  will  that  loveliness  still  tinges  features  with  something  rosy  but  it’s  so  pronounced  as  a  child  .  she  offers  kindly  smiles  ,  laughs  loud  and  unrelenting  and  beautiful  into  the  cool  midnight  air  .  it  almost  breaks  her  mother’s  heart  .

prep  school  is  a  blur  of  glowing  report  cards  ,  ice  forming  in  those  wide  eyes  ,  spine  stiffening  ;  she  is  less  wildflower  and  more  crashing  wave  ,  learning  to  be  brutal  and  unforgiving  ,  deft  in  the  way  she  wreaks  her  havoc  .  she  excels  in  sciences  ,  almost  scarily  so  ---  she  takes  to  chemistry  and  biology  like  nothing  else  .  human  biology  makes  sense  to  her  ,  the  way  everything  flows  and  connects  .  (  author  wld  like  to  take  a  min  to  acknowledge  that  she  knows  literal  fuck  all  abt  science  bc  she  dropped  out  of  physics  in  yr  10  and  failed  biology  in  yrs  11 - 12  so  fuckin  yikes  here  )

she’s  set  to  start  at  a  french  academy  ,  earned  herself  a  legacy  spot   ---  but  a  glimmering  letter  throws  that  plan  right  to  the  wind  ,  because  the  gallagher  academy’s  gotten  wind  of  the  authier  women  and  have  claimed  their  first  .  evelyn  doesn’t  think  twice  about  accepting  ,  spurred  on  by  her  family  .  (  they’ve  been  meaning  to  branch  out  ,  and  it  only  makes  sense  to  send  her  off  as  the  first  of  the  gang  to  die  ,  if  we  want  to  get  all  morrissey - y  about  it  all  )

she  takes  to  gallagher  like  a  duck  to  water  ,  and  if  there  was  any  lingering  warmth  buried  in  those  bones  it’s  swiftly  burnt  right  out  .  ice  queen  cometh  ;  earns  herself  quite  the  reputation  for  that  cold  demeanour  ,  clipped  accent  and  brusque  attitude  .  climbs  to  the  top  of  the  ladder  quick  ,  ruthless  baby  dressed  in  creams  and  pale  pinks  .  works  harder  ,  smarter  ,  cleverer  ,  knows  her  fuckin  shit  and  makes  no  mistakes  about  it  .

i  hate  this  intro  please  let  it  be  known  that  evelyn  deserves  better  than  all  this  bullshit  /  i  can  actually  write  i  swear  to  god

anyways   !   third  year  has  only  furthered  the  bitter  bite  of  a  caustic  tongue  ,  digs  deeper  into  glacial  hues  and  she’s  fine  with  it  ,  fine  with  the  cool  exterior  that  she’s  built  around  herself  .  softness  is  rare  to  come  by  ,  viewed  less  as  a   reprieve  and  more  as  a  weapon  that  can  be  used  against  her  .  again  :  ice  queen  babey  ,  that’s  the  move  .

idk  i  jus  need  to  finish  this  i  love  her  A  Lot  please  excuse  all  of  this  fucking  NONSENSE

[bonfire-at-the-crossroads]

Rutger Hauer has passed, and is on his way through the stars, toward the shoulder of Orion and the Tannhauser Gate.

He gave himself to the world of film and created characters which will continue to inspire the people lucky enough to share in the dreams he left behind.

I wrote this a couple years ago - and maybe it’s time to look at it again.

Thank you Mr Hauer for leaving this place a little brighter for your having been here.

Good journey, peace at last.....

————————————————————————————————————-

January 8, 2016

It's Roy Batty's birthday.

Ridley Scott's 1982 movie - Blade Runner - cast Rutgers Hauer as the renegade Replicant in search of his maker.

The film was a brilliant adaptation of Philip K Dick's "Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep?"

Roy and a small group of Nexus-6 Replicants, have stolen an off-world transport, killed the crew, and returned to earth - in an attempt to coerce their designer to extend their programmed four-year lifespan. January 8, 2016 was the day of Roy's inception, and also the day his genetic coding has scheduled him for death.

He is being hunted by Harrison Ford, as hired-gun Deckard - a Blade Runner - paid to track and kill escaped Replicants.

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

In 1982 - the idea of the year 2016 was a mind-numbing distance away.

"The Future" was a place where anything was possible, and our wildest dreams would come true.

It seems like yesterday.

And yet, when I started thinking about the world I inhabited in '82, and where I've washed up on the shores of 2016 - it's been quite an extended sea voyage.

I was married to somebody else.

We walked into town to the little movie theater on Central Avenue, and as we moved to our seats, were told by the usher ( yeah, that's right - there were still ushers ) -"You shouldn't even bother with this movie. It stinks. Four people at the last show actually asked for their money back."

We loved it.

Minds were blown - and we went back two more times, bringing friends.

That Christmas Eve - I had a small stroke. I was 26.

At the time, I was more worried about how the news would affect my husband - and did not fully appreciate my own predicament. He overheard the doctor on the phone making arrangements for what was then, the only echocardiogram machine in the New York area.

"Is that about you?" He asked. I nodded.

My husband passed out cold on the waiting room floor.

I survived. Had test after test after test, and slowly got my left side back under my own control.

Time passed.

We tried for the baby - and a series of horrors led to the loss of pregnancy, and culminated with a 3:00 AM visit to the emergency room.

The husband was so upset - he left me by the hospital entrance, and drove home.

When he inevitably decided that he needed "space" and wanted to "take a break" -(clearly, his office-affair had nothing to do with this decision ) - I used the time to take a good long look at the marriage.

When he came back three months later - I was not the girl he had walked out on.

The world had changed, and so had the locks.

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

I moved into the West Village with a girlfriend. It was awkward having a roommate after having a husband, home, and mortgage - but I made it work.

An unusual boyfriend followed, and several years of actors, artists, and cabaret performers filled my days and nights.

It was Manhattan in the '80's. There were nights out spent dancing at the clubs til dawn.

The Met was open late on Friday nights, and my group of fellow oddballs wandered the museum halls every week for over a year.

Art and illustration was my livelihood. I knew everyone in the Village ( at least by sight) and was completely comfortable in my element.

But my friends got sick.

And my friends started dying.

AIDS ravaged the world.

The Village was ground zero, and everyone was terrified. We didn't know where it was coming from, didn't know how to cope with the skeletal friend, the friend covered with sarcoma blotches - was it the end of the world?

In many ways - yes. It was.

The best, brightest, most talented people on earth were dying out - and all I could do was hold hands at the bedside, and attend memorial services.

There was a three month period when I went to a service EVERY SINGLE WEEK.

My dearest friend, Bruce - I never even knew when he was well. We were fellow illustrators, and spent hours a day with phone cocked between shoulder and ear - talking while we drew in our separate studios. He was in Chelsea, I was on the corner of Perry and West Fourth.

We brought children's books to life, and loved the work.

As AIDS ravaged his body, he needed to take long naps in the afternoons. His fever would spike uncontrollably - he called it "Shake and Bakes."

He fussed over the ugly sarcoma lesions which appeared on his arms and hands - he found a theatrical makeup which he swore would cover them up so that nobody would know.

Everybody pretended that it worked.

"Well, my sweet darling angel - I took a shower this morning, and guess what? I watched all my hair go down the drain."

Some medication he was taking, combined with what may have been a chemotherapy cocktail - took every hair on his head.

He entered the shower - with.

Exited - without.

He had been told this might be a possibility, and had already purchased a wig from a professional Broadway wig-maker.

It was awful looking, but we continued to pretend.

He slipped farther away, and was hospitalized on a closed floor reserved for AIDS patients.

I visited every single day.

I brought tiny gifts, saved up stories to make him laugh - and built my day around spending time with him.

His family wouldn't come and see him. Friends did their best, but simply couldn't be with him when push had finally come down to shove.

I remember shouting at his brother on the pay phone in the hospital hallway "I can't make this better. I'm not allowed to make decisions for his care, because I'm not a family member. He is dying, and you need to be here."

He wasn't.

I held Bru's hand, and wiped his forehead. I asked the nurse to turn up his oxygen because he was struggling and begging for air. "It's as high as it will go." she said - and even though it was time for all visitors to leave, she said I could stay.

The day before, he had spent time with a priest who had given him what I now believe was last rites. He seemed comforted, and we said what needed to be said.

"You know Bru....I will ALWAYS love you."

He smiled and said. "I know. And I will always love you too."

He took his last breath a little before midnight.

I closed his eyes.

Twenty seven years have passed since that night.

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

The unusual boyfriend fell victim to his own silliness. He convinced himself that another woman was sending him messages about being attracted to him - and he needed "some space" to explore the magic.

He did.

She didn't

And I was magically single again.

As 1990 dawned - the Internet had not been invented.

The cell phone - wasn't.

Video rental stores were visited daily, and made money hand-over-fist.

Blonde, Madonna, and all that wonderful 80's music that my kids now think is divine - were the sounds of the decade.

And I didn't quite trust CD's.....

Times Square was just beginning to shed the peep shows and adult movie houses.

It was gritty, and how I loved it.

July 4th of 1990 I found myself eating in the diner downstairs from my apartment on the corner of 14th St and Seventh Avenue.

It was empty.

I ate my bluefish dinner and went back upstairs to the drawing board.

One single red rocket cleared the rooftops and the stars rained down.

I was bored.

Decided to place a personal ad in The Village Voice. "Looking for an interesting conversation over a cup of coffee....." and some other minor nonsense.

Over 350 people responded in the three days I checked the answering machine.

"I've never answered a personal ad," said the voice on the phone."I live with a grey cat. And I'm reading DUNE. Maybe you could call me, and we'll get a cup of coffee?"

On our third date, he never went back home.

"You know what? It's getting kind of silly to keep paying for an apartment to keep my cat in...."

"So what are you saying?" I asked. "Are you asking to officIally move in here?"

" Nope. Let's get married. It'll be fun. I'm not exactly getting younger - either are you. Why not?"

"It'll either work - or it won't. What's the reason that we shouldn't at least TRY?"

He talked me into it.

Brian and I were married in the Cathedral of St John the Divine, three months after our first date. Twenty five years ago, last October.

Babies happened. Three in a row. "Irish triplets" as my obstetrician called them.

Quinn.

Morgan.

Maddie.

They were (and are ) the three finest people I have ever known - and are the center of my soul.

Brian and I survived critical fulcrum points where the smallest waver would have plunged all of us into hell.

We stared death in the face - death blinked, and looked away,

more than once.

We walked away from alcoholism.

Left cigarettes behind,

Did battle with depression,

and kept walking....

We've skated on the thinnest of financial ice for YEARS.

We've worked and worked and worked some more - and it was never going to be enough to keep the ship afloat.

The kids, as we've laughed over the years have "Never missed a meal."

Nothing was easy, but our youngest will be the third to graduate from college in the Spring. Yes, there are loans to be paid - and we'll do everything we can to help them gain traction in their lives.

About a year and a half ago we took a good hard look at where the road was leading us. Our ability to maintain the income necessary to support our lives in Westchester county, in a big house with a big mortgage - huge utility bills, and a dwindling job market - we came up with a plan.

The bank was unhappy with our syncopated mortgage payment schedule - and really wanted their house back. Things were sliding downhill, and we simply couldn't stop it.

"Let's take the money from my last free-lance job, and buy a house in Ireland."

Found one.

And did.

Sold the house in Westchester.

Packed up everything we could.

Got on the plane.

And here we are.

January 8th, 2016, and it's 1982 all over again.

The Replicant is out of time.

He sits high on the rooftops above the city, rain is pouring from the black skies - and Roy Batty,- in his last moment of life - knows what it is to be fully human.

"I've seen things, you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched c-beams glitter in the dark near Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain."

We all go through the motions. We get out of bed every day, and do our best to keep our lives and our families moving forward.

We work.

And plan.

And strive for happiness.

I'm no Roy - but I too, have seen things that will pass away with me when I go.

I, too, have learned what it is to be fully, and completely - human.

[dat-town]

starboy

Characters: Inseong & you

Setting: star au, astronaut au

Genre: sci-fi I guess and soft angst (if that’s a thing?)

Words: 4.6k

Summary:  He was made of stardust, soft lines and shy smiles. He held the warmth of the sun, the knowledge of the moon, the sparkle of the stars and he was ready to give it all to you.

Warnings: mentions of minor character death and ptsd

This story is a part of the Sensuous collab for SF9′s anniversary hosted by @restlessmaknae​. I’m so excited to share this with you all. It’s pretty different from what I usually write but I really liked this concept! And please give love to the other collab parts, too ♥

He used to be a collapsing star; shining beautifully in the vast darkness longer than human recollection. But the thing about everything that burns bright is that eventually they all burn out. He spent millions of years, maybe eons (he’d long lost counting) alone being the guiding light, the light that was slowly dying, inevitably fading. Just as the night is the darkest before dawn, he was the brightest before the explosion scattered the glitter pearls all over the canvas of the constellation-filled sky.

Kim Inseong brought a piece with him to Earth.

“What’s your name?” you ask of him, eyes trained on his relaxed form sitting on the edge of the clean, white hospital bed.

“I don’t know,” he tells you in a quiet, soothing voice. There’s awe between the vowels and a hint of the disappointment after a fruitless pursuit. He furrows his brows, pouty lips turning down like he doesn’t even know what he’s searching for. A name? What an intriguing phenomena.

You hum lightly and then jot down something in your notebook. He stares at the way you move your hand, his gaze follows the quick twists and turns of your wrist.

“How old are you?” you ask again, voice even and eyes gentle. You glance at the name tag by the bed, Kim Inseong, and it reminds you of the night when he was brought in, bruised, badly injured, barely breathing and the rank Mission Specialist on his uniform clearly visible.

“Time, therefore age too, is a manmade concept,” he replies in the same fashion, calm and unbothered. His eyes are now fixed on something afar just above your shoulder and you’re ready to ask the next question on the list when out of the blue you catch his stare directly on you. He looks just as curious as you are. “How old is the universe?”

The question throws you off a bit and you can’t provide more than a diplomatic answer.

“We don’t know for sure.”

Your patient nods slightly, licks his chapped lips and looks away again.

“Then I don’t know for sure either.”

Amnesia, you write down and tell him that it’s okay.

You ask him bits of questions everyday hoping that his memories would resurface from under the fog of haziness but in the end you tell him because he has every right to know about NASA, the mission, the accident…

“You almost didn’t make it back.” The others didn’t.

Maybe it’s for the better to not remember.

It has been two weeks since the sole survivor of the Venus Team woke up from coma and yet, he didn’t have any other visitor than higher-ups from his workplace. At first, you think it’s because the spaceship crashed into land halfway across the Earth where it was supposed to but even later nobody came, nobody called searching for him.

“Do you remember anyone we should call? Relatives? Friends? A girlfriend?”

“I miss the moon,” he replies and your heart aches for him, so you ask around. It turns out he’s a single child, his parents have passed away when he was young and even his emergency contact is his boss.

Only sensation-hungry reporters come all the way to the hospital asking for an exclusive interview about the failure of NASA's Venus Program. Inseong kindly declines them all. The world demands an explanation, grieving families need somebody to blame but there’s nothing more to tell: accidents happen, both humans and stars keep on falling and dying.

According to Inseong’s file in the medical database, he was born in South Korea, then moved abroad for his NASA training. You are talking with him in English even though you saw him reading a local newspaper like it’s nothing and you overheard him talking with another patient in French. He fascinates you with all his being, there’s just something ethereal about him. He seems out of place like he doesn’t entirely belong here at all and yet, he’s flesh and bones, human just like you. There’s nothing to prove otherwise. You can’t quite place it but there’s just something about him that draws you in.

He’s strangely calm for someone who has been through as much as him. He still has bruises because of the huge impact of the landing but he appears to be physically fine at first glance. You can only see the purple spots on his ribs when you accidentally catch a glimpse of him changing from one hospital wear to another. He doesn’t seem bashful about it at all but you guess it must be because he lived in a relatively small place with four other people for a long time. Or there’s that scar on his cheek barely noticeable but it didn’t heal perfectly, so it will always be a reminder of what had happened to him. But other than that, the doctors can be relieved.

However, the psychologist who was assigned to him gets worried. He says it’s not normal to be so accepting of one’s fate. That people always rebel, always question why this happened to them or suffer from the survivors’ guilt but Inseong is okay. And it should be great news but it’s still weird and Doctor Lee is concerned that the astronaut keeps it all pent up, keeps it all to himself, just like his buried memories of his past lives. What if someday something will trigger this barrier in his mind and everything will come back with full force bringing him to a mental breakdown? It breaks your heart a little.

“Aren’t you curious how you were… you know before?” you ask tentatively while sharing a dessert from your favourite place over his hospital bed. You know you shouldn’t stay but you could use a five minutes break and who are you  to say no when he pleads so nicely to help him with the cake. You know hospital food isn’t the greatest, so from time to time you bring him something from outside. He devours each one like he has never eaten anything like that before.

“That wasn’t me,” Inseong shakes his head dismissingly and he’s partly right. He is him but he’s also not, because how could he be the Kim Inseong everybody talks about if he doesn’t remember any of it? It renders you speechless, not knowing what to say but then, the young man lift his gaze to your face and there’s curiosity dripping from his gentle voice. “But you can tell me about it. You can tell me about Kim Inseong who wished to see the stars up-close and die like one.”

Your throat closes up at the implication of a part of him dying out there but maybe he’s right. It’s a miracle, everyone keeps saying, that he survived.

“I didn’t know you… him before,” you correct yourself respecting his decision of being considered his own being and clearing your throat, you sit down on the edge of his bed. “But I can tell you what I know.”

It clinks as he puts down his fork on the plate and focuses all his attention on you.

“He was born in Korea and he loved the sea. He has always been interested in astrology and after he saw the movie Apollo-13, he decided he wanted to go up into space. The NASA representative told me he even wrote it into his CV.” A small smile tugs on your lips as you remember the tall, stern man telling you this while you were waiting to see whether Inseong will be able to make it after his first surgery. He needed two more but he made it and later, he woke up from coma, too. He’s a fighter. “He was fresh out of high school when he moved to the United States to learn engineering specified in spacecrafts. He was one of the bests in his NASA training, so he was chosen to join the Venus Mission as a flight engineer. He was twenty-one, the youngest of the crew when they left three years ago.”

You have never been really interested in the NASA’s work but it was a worldwide phenomenon to send men to Venus. Everybody knew about it, everybody watched the launching of the rocket.

“What happened then?”

“It was a test to see if life is possible on Venus. It was supposed to be a year long mission plus the journey there and back and according to the NASA, it went fine. However, when they were supposed to come back, something went wrong. Rumours are about miscalculated supplies, others say asteroids, but what matters is that they couldn’t leave, so a rescue team was formed and everything seemed fine once they reunited. Then about half a year ago, we lost all communication with the team. There are some speculations that there was a supernova relatively close by and the waves of it caused the turbulence that damaged the spacecraft and sent it flying, at least towards Earth luckily. The others, they either died during that collision or the crash when you arrived.”

Even NASA couldn’t believe it when they saw the approaching nose-diving spaceship in the atmosphere of Earth. They evacuated the area of the landing place just in time and tried to make sure of the safe landing by alerting the closeby authorities like your hospital of the event. But nothing could prepare anyone seeing the burning metal monster rip through your sky.

“They died because of me,” Inseong whispers astonished just like a researcher when he finds the evidence of a hypothesis he has been looking all his career. It’s terrifying to see him jump into such conclusions based on his memories’ broken fragments.

“No, they didn’t,” you rush to protest but he doesn’t believe you. You can see it in his dark eyes, the pitchless holes leading to another sad galaxy. There’s grief and regret there beside his usual calmness. Yet, he turns towards you with a forgiving smile.

“You don’t know that.”

He’s right. You really don’t, you weren’t out there, you can’t be sure what happened. Nobody can. Still, from what you’ve learnt about Inseong, you know he wouldn’t do anything to intentionally hurt others.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you say and that you can be sure of. How could something so huge like this be anyone’s fault?

Inseong doesn’t say anything.

It’s been weeks and it’s certainly not the first time that when you walk past his room at night, on your way out of the hospital, you see Inseong standing by his window, staring out to the sky. You knock on the wood of the doorframe lightly to avoid startling him with your presence.

“Why are you still awake?”

The patient turns toward you slowly.

“I cannot sleep. Not at night,” he says in a quiet voice and you know he keeps his curtains shut even during daytime but his eyes are not accustomed to artificial lights either. He’s too used to dark with only the stars glimmering.

Insomnia. You’ve added it to his files.

“What are you still doing here, Miss?” he asks softly, curious even with a crooked brow.

“Extra hours,” you shrug because it’s nothing new, the bags under your eyes are only hidden by a good brand of a concealer. Normally, you’d flash him a smile and continue your walk down the hallway to get home, shower and sleep as soon as possible but there’s something keeping you there. Maybe it’s the slump in his shoulders or the look on his face that makes you ask: “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” he nods curtly and smiles a bit before looking back at the stars. It’s obvious he’s drawn to them like a moth to flames.

“Do you miss it?” you inquire because you cannot even fathom how could it feel to be back to Earth, to get used to its gravity again, to see and feel things he doesn’t even remember. All he can remember is the spaceship and the universe and he has absolutely no recollection of his life before here on Earth. It might be the trauma or the fact that the Venus Mission went on for three years. A lot of time for a failed project.

So all he knows is what it's like out there. You can only compare it to the homesickness engraved deep into your bones when you moved out from your parents’ place for university years ago. It’s not an easy process. And Inseong, sometimes you catch yourself thinking that maybe he really belongs out there.

“Every day,” he sighs and the moon reflects his sadness in a magical glory.

“How is it out there?” you inquire, not able to hold back your curiosity. How can a man be so enamoured by whatever it is like out there to disassociate the here and the present so often?

“Cold. Lonely,” he tells you simply and honest as always. You don't correct him about his team members who were there with him. By now you know it's not what he means. “But beautiful.”

It must have been truly gorgeous if he’s still yearning to go back.

“Do you maybe want to get out of here?” you ask already giddy and ready to go. You know you shouldn’t. It’s breaking the protocol but Inseong has been stable for quite some time and he hasn’t been out of the hospital. Perhaps, he should. But Inseong looks at you with an unreadable expression like he doesn’t know what to make of your suggestion. Then slowly, so slowly you’re ready to take it all back, he nods.

“Let’s go,” he stands up in his wrinkled hospital clothes.

“Uhm, I will get you some change of clothes,” you offer a bit baffled because you didn’t expect him to actually agree right away.

You take a pile of warm, casual clothes from the dressing room for nurses and go back to Inseong’s room to give them to him. He doesn’t question the lack of colours, white all over. He decides on sweatpants and a t-shirt with the hospital’s logo.

It’s a short ride, a quiet one. Inseong mostly stares out of the window, watching the scenery ride by beside us. It’s not uncomfortable or awkward though, just nice. When you arrive, the receptionist welcomes you and ‘your friend’ zealously but not as much as Inseong is based on the brightness of his eyes when he realizes where you brought him. The observatory just outside of the town is one of your favourite places to go if you need a peace of mind. So you lead him to your usual place in the projection room where the whole ceiling is covered by the endless beauty of the universe.

“Do you like it?” you turn to him who was trapped in a body of a boy who had to grow up too fast.

“It’s– it’s like home. Thank you,” he mumbles, marvelling at the close to realistic sky above. Words can’t express the look of gratitude in his eyes and it truly makes you the happiest person on Earth, to be able to make him smile. It’s the greatest wonder to have a positive impact on others’ lives.

You sit down there on wooden chairs just staring up enjoying the light breeze and the faint, calm music from the speakers. It’s the first time you’re sharing this experience with somebody, so it feels strangely intimate even though you don’t do anything more than sitting next to each other. At least for a while.

“Humans call that the Apus, the Bird of Paradise,” Inseong says out of the sudden, pointing to a bright constellation on the west. Humans, he says and you wonder what does he feel like then. An eternal soul stuck in a mortal body?

“How do you know so much?” you blurt out suddenly amazed by his knowledge he never shows off but is always there. It seems impossibly how well educated and all-knowing he is despite barely remembering anything including his own name.

“I learned it all. With time, I believe.” he answers carefully, not sure if he should but he does it anyway while watching your reaction closely.

“That takes a lot of time,” you hum searching for the stars reflecting in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he nods and you think maybe his soul has lived more than you can imagine. If that kind of thing is possible. You start to think a lot more is possible than you’d previously believed.

Inseong doesn’t act like he has any plans to leave the hospital. He seems quite at ease in his room. The hospital, however, might have been understanding until one point because of the consideration towards an international tragedy but they need the space and they kindly ask the man to leave. You witness it all, how he lets out the small oh sound when the realization flashes in his eyes. He nods politely and says he’ll be out by tomorrow.

You’re worried how he will integrate back into society but you try not to show it to him while you help him pack. He barely has anything with him. His boss sent him a pack of personal belongings from the States like ID card, passport, keys and clothes and NASA also arranged a flight for him back to the American continent. He hasn’t said anything but you could tell that Inseong was hesitant about it first, going back, and once he mentioned that he might go to Korea instead to find his roots and to figure out some stuff. It seems, however, that by now he has made up his mind and decided beside NASA to be closer to the stars in both metaphorical and literal sense.

You offer to take him to the airport because that’s your free day anyway and Inseong is sensible enough not to turn down your attempt to stay by him as long as possible. You have only known each other for a bit over a month and yet, you don’t feel ready to let go. Despite that you’d never stop him from doing something his heart desires. You wish him nothing but happiness.

“So that’s it, I guess,” you shrug with a forced smile when you reach the gates to the terminal, the very last point until you could walk with him.

“You, people, tend to stress too much over distances. It’s not like we won’t see each other anymore,” Inseong smiles down at you, the way he always does, moderate and soft but you can see sorry and slight panic in his eyes as he looks around in the crowd. “I’ll be only a flight away.”

A ten-hour-flight, yeah, but you have to admit that after his three-month-journey to and back from Venus, that’s probably nothing. Still, you can’t help but worry.

“Just take care, okay?”

Inseong’s fingers grazes against your cheek as he carefully brushes a lock of your dishevelled hair behind your ear.

“Don’t worry about me,” he says, voice so so soft like the best pillows you’ve ever had. It doesn’t put your heart at ease though. “I’m okay… it’s just that sometimes I realize how small I am. From there I could see everything and now it’s like something is ripped away from me.”

It reminds you of the night you asked him how it was out there. Maybe nothing could compare to that. Maybe you’ll never understand but still, you would like to be there for him. Not as a nurse but as a friend or whatever he needs.

“If you ever feel alone, call me,” you give him your professional card but you previously scribbled down your personal phone number on it.

“Thank you. For everything,” he takes it and you swear you see stars in his eyes even in the daylight.

Then it’s a bit awkward, the boarding announcement is made but while people are flooding around you, the two of you still stand there engraving each other’s features in your minds. Inseong has always been physically there but distant, never touch-starved even though he has spent so much time alone in his own opinion. You, on the other hand, crave to just touch him, to believe he’s real and there.

“Can I… hug you?” Uncertainty seeps into your voice as you fumble with your own clothes not sure what to do.

Inseong looks at you for the longest time but his eyes sparkle when he nods, stepping closer. You’re pretty sure he hasn’t been hugged since he’s come back on Earth. All the human touch he got was for medical check-ups, so you’re extra careful with your touches to not be too evasive. You nuzzle close to his chest, clasp your arms around his waist as you breath in the scent of his coconut shower gel.

When the last warning call resonates through the speakers, he steps backwards and you fold your arms in front of you. He doesn’t remind you that you both see the same stars at night, you don’t mention you’ll think of him everytime you catch a glimpse of the Apus constellation. You just don’t speak, that fond look you share says it all.

And then he’s gone. Just like that. He came unexpected like lighting and now he has left nothing but a burning spot behind. (In your heart.)

Time passes weirdly when you miss someone.

It slows done in the most mundane ways, when you’re shopping, walking home from the hospital after a night shift or when you’re waiting for his call. But it rushes by so fast when you finally hear his voice, when you read his letters because that’s what he writes, the old-fashioned letters instead of texts and you find it endearing. You like to go back to the observatory and read his letters there, under the fake stars, imagining his voice as he tells you about everything.

NASA made me go through mental and physical check-up. They looked at me sadly. I guess I’ve already known then what it meant. They won’t take me back as an astronaut because they think I have post traumatic stress and don’t want to risk a breakdown. They said they could get me an office job but… that’s not my field. I need to think on what direction my life should go from now. What am I good for if I can’t go back there?

I wish I was th I hope you’re happy. You deserve it. Don’t forget that the stars are looking out for all of us.

P.S. They are pretty from here, too.

That’s his last letter about two weeks ago. You haven’t heard from  him since then except one rushed phone call. After he quitted his job, he’s busy with moving out of the place NASA provided him. He seemed excited about it, to start anew while you still feel static, frozen in one place. It feels like how you imagined lost-distance relationships would be except it’s not a relationship and friends shouldn't feel the way you do and you know that. You would never burden him with your feelings until you’re sure he’s ready. Especially since he hasn’t made many other friends or acquaintances at all since he came back. It might not be the best conversation starter to drop the bomb of him being amnestic and being the sole survivor of a failed NASA project. You just hope he’ll find someone who understands him.

“Hey, you’re coming here more often than ever before,” the receptionist of the observatory greets you with a wide smile, pointing out the obvious. You’re lucky that the stargazing hall is for free or else, you’d be broken because of all the times you’ve spent here during the last months.

“Oh well, I guess I fell in love with the stars,” you shrug, hiding a shy smile, clenching Inseong’s brand new letter close to your chest.

“Well, then lucky for you, boss just hired someone who seems to know everything about the universe. I’m certain he’d be delighted to tell you all about it,” the guy winks at you and you let out a low chuckle.

“That sounds nice but I’ll be fine on my own for now, thank you,” you excuse yourself because you need time and space to read the letter in peace. You walk to your usual place, the seats you took back then together with Inseong. You take a deep breath, soaking in the soothing effect of the place before folding out the paper in your hand. On contrary to any of his earlier letters, this one is rather short. Only one sentence written in neat handwriting in the middle of it and you might be hallucinating but if you close your eyes, you almost here him reciting it from right beside you:

“Did you know that stars always find their way home?”

You hum, wondering what it could mean while slowly blinking your eyes open. Then maybe it’s just a sixth sense or a special feeling tugging at your heart but you look on your right and you can’t believe your eyes.

“Inseong,” you literally squeal standing up abruptly and look around to make sure there are no other surprises on the way. It seems like just another miracle on the row. “You knew I would come here?”

“The receptionist might have said something,” he shrugs and even the wrinkles around his eyes are smiling. There’s so much warmth in him, in the pastel sweater he wears, the silver bracelet with a crescent moon on it and his crooked smile you love so much. It seems too good to be true. You might be dreaming and it gets even more surreal when Inseong is closing the space between you.

“I missed you,” he whisper-tells and your breath is caught in your throat. Both of you are covered by the reflection of the galaxy’s canvas about you and you literally feel like floating. There’s only Inseong’s soft hand touching your cheek keeping your grounded. “You’re the best part of being on Earth.”

You feel like you might cry, even your voice sounds wet with unshed tears.

“You… you came back? For good?”

“I don’t have anywhere else to be,” he answers but you can tell that’s not everything. But you’re too happy to ask him to go into details. After months of missing him, seeing him in flesh is too good already. You lean into his touch easily, fingers curling into the front of his shirt. “Did you know that stars are basically balls of burning gas held together by their own gravity?”

You shake your head no. You never thought much about stars before him. Before you saw them shining right in his dark orbs.

“You’re my gravity,” he says so simply as if he just stated a fact but it’s the most beautiful thing anybody has ever told you.

Without thinking, you stand on your tiptoes and kiss him. Gentle and chaste but with all the love you have. You can feel him smile into the touch of your lips and pulls you into his arms, keeping you there like you were something precious just like the night sky embraces Mother Earth. It feels like a galaxy spilling inside of you and filling you up with everything fond and soft and good.

How is it when a star falls in love?

It burns. Warm and bright. For a longer time than human recollection.