#any named cast members I’ll take suggestions for honestly

[hollowwrites]

Blindsided

Part 3

Ominis x MC

Summary - Before the year kicks off Lucan gathers all available students for Crossed Wands. Not wanting his duelling club to fall by the wayside, he calls upon outside members of the club to make things…interesting.

I loved crossed wands!! Wish more of the students participated. Maybe I’ll write something for how I think each would duel?

Again feel free to swap Evelyn with MC or Y/N

Also I’m completely aware that Snape created the Muffliato charm but I thought about it and I had to do it!!

Warnings - Violence? Just a bit of duelling, just a continuation of before

Word Count - 3150

~

The next few days were rocky but things were finally looking up. Sebastian had in fact been selected for the Tri Wizard Tournament and after the initial horror, Sebastian was correct. Everyone had rallied around him to lend their aid. Poppy had suggested they tend to some of the nearby nesting Dragons due to the popularity of the Dragon Egg challenge. Garreth had promised to brew any potion that he needed with the inclusion that he would follow the instructions exactly. Despite what happened, frequently, in potions class, Garreth was a skilled Potioneer he just had a tendency to make it up as he went along.

They had the luxury of a few more weeks of prep before the games began so, for the meantime, classes continued as usual. Sebastian suspected that they put off the announcement ceremony until Evelyn had gotten back from her travels with the hopes she would put her name forward. She hadn’t, much to the chagrin of the Headmaster and many of her fellow seventh years, so the name calling ceremony took place.

Lucan Brattleby had scrambled together as many of the seventh years for the their last Crossed Wands tournament.

“I will not be upstaged by some centuries old cup” Lucan protested “Please we have to shake it up this year. Evelyn. I’m on my knees.” His hands clasped together begging for her participation

“Okay okay I’ll compete” she laughed “Honestly I think you can count on Seb too he’s not going to pass up on the opportunity to take my title AND become Tri Wizard Champion”

“Excellent, I’ve talked Imelda and Poppy into it this year, and I’ve changed the rules too. Anything goes, Imelda said she’d only do it if she could cast from her broom and so long as she stays in the Bell Tower, I’m game” Lucan practically shook from excitement “I was hoping you could try and convince Ominis to duel, you’ve seen him fight right?” He continued in hushed tones looking over at the gaggle of Slytherins collected by the practise dummies.

“Yes. He’s quite formidable, very restrained, and poised too. I’ll see what I can do”

“Ah I could kiss you!! Thank you so much. Rounds start in 10 let me know”

Evelyn began her approach but noticed Ominis walking towards her. He put a hand flat out to stop her, shaking his head.

“Before you say anything, it’s a no” he said smirking

“Oh come on Ominis, don’t you want to take Sebastian down a few pegs.”

“As I told you, multiple times in fifth year, Sebastian never backs down from a fight. I don’t fancy facing that” his eyebrows furrowed as though remembering something “…again”

“But it’s getting so boring facing Sebastian at the top, I could really use some variety” she poked at his chest exaggerating her words “Aaaaand wouldn’t you like to show Sebastian just how much he’s annoyed you these past few years. It’s a great stress relief pummelling him into the ground. Please?”

He could never say no to her.

“Okay fine…” she began clapping excitedly. “If you help me out with something afterwards”

“Of course. I’d’ve helped you anyway. Win Win for me” she bounced up to kiss him on the cheek “Can’t wait to throughly destroy you, Gaunt”

Once the sound of Evelyns footsteps disappeared into the congregation of Crossed Wands fans, Ominis turned back to his other friends, touching his cheek.

“What was that about?” Sebastian said smugly

“Could something actually happen between you two this year? I’m growing bored watching you dance around each other” he heard a soft thwack of fabric eliciting a reaction from Imelda “What? I know you think the same”

“Don’t you think I’ve had this conversation with him before. He says the same thing every single time” Sebastian said

“Can someone enlighten me as to what is going on?” Ominis asked getting more and more aggravated each passing moment

“She kissed you, you fool. I know you’re blind but you’re not stupid” Imelda said equally annoyed

“She…she does it all the time, it means nothing” he lied, that was the first time she had kissed him. It was a friendly kiss though. Nothing more. Right?

“See? Told you. Same response every time” Sebastian said exasperated. “Next he’ll say that they’re just friends and he values her friendship”

“Enough of this! This is getting childish. I’m ending this conversation before one of us says something they’ll regret” he looked in Sebastian’s general direction. He had enough on him that any number of things could spill from his mouth.

As the evening dragged on more and more people filtered in to watch the spectacle. When the duels took place a huge crowd gathered by the portcullis to peer in, some sat on brooms hovering above everyone else to get a better view. As it got closer and closer to the semi finals, the overhead walkways of the Bell Tower began filling with people too, many belonging to Durmstrang and Beauxbatons to see what Hogwarts really had to offer.

The final four ended up being a Slytherin sweep. Sebastian and Evelyn were a given, what with them being the best dualists in the school but Ominis and Imelda had surprised everyone. Ominis ended rounds quickly and decisively with little to no room for error. If you made a mistake, you lost. Imelda had also been found to be quite difficult to hit on her broom, whereas she had no trouble casting from it at all.

Imelda and Evelyn went first. Imelda stood no chance against the reigning Hogwart’s Crossed Wands Champion and every time she mounted her broom or got just barely off the ground, Evelyn slammed her back down, all while protecting her broom. She knew Imelda loved that thing and they had become quite close. A quick Accio caused it to float delicately toward Evelyn’s hands. And with that, Imelda forfeit. Surprising to everyone present, she wasn’t bitter, she jumped up, giving Evelyn’s a quick hug before taking up her broom again for the final few fights.

Next up was Sebastian and Ominis. Sebastian’s tactic was to try and overwhelm Ominis immediately and hope that, that was enough. He cast out a volley of several offensive spells to which Ominis deflected them all. He stood twirling his wand around waiting for the next volley when Sebastian apparated closer to him.

“Come on Ominis, fight back!” He growled through gritted teeth

“Ah but it’s so much more fun listening to you struggle to land a hit”

With another gruff sigh, Sebastian threw out more spells, all ended up deflected or bouncing off a well timed Protego. Ominis laughed, throwing out the first spell and landing it directly at Sebastian’s chest. The Depulso threw him back against the pile of practise dummies and with a final Descendo, the dummies crumpled against the ground, collapsing under the pressure as Sebastian looked to be struggling with gravity itself.

“I yield!!” Sebastian barked “Merlin, I never knew you had that in you” he said as Ominis offered him a hand.

“Yes you did” Ominis squeezed his hand knowingly as Sebastian took it.

“That means it’s Ominis and Evelyn in the final round Witches and Wizards. The Heir of Salazar Slytherin vs The Hero of Hogwarts” Lucan bellowed casting a general Repairo on the stage. The practise dummies ballooned back out and returned to their original position whilst the crack in the stone from Ominis’ unrelenting Descendo sealed itself over.

Whilst Imelda and Sebastian took up their positions, Ominis and Evelyn secured themselves at the front of the crowd. They had they’re heads buried together talking and Evelyn waved a hand through the portcullis to get they’re attention.

“Don’t take this too seriously you two, remember you’re fighting for third” Evelyn flashed them a grin. Ominis let out a singular laugh as she linked her arm with his. They watched the fireworks display of spells volley past them with vague interest.

“Congratulations on that win” she said squeezing his bicep “I’ve never seen someone cast Descendo continuously like that. That crack in the stone? There must have been a terrible amount of pressure on Sebastian. No wonder he conceded”

“You can see for yourself if you like. But I had something much more interesting in line for you” he cocked his head down to her ear so she could hear him over the crowd. His breathe swayed the hairs falling on the side of her face and she felt herself turning red.

Do not let a silly school girl crush destroy your winning streak.

She locked her jaw and pursed her lips. Not that he could see her sudden shift in her face, but it helped her feel more confident in her words

“Don’t let it get to your head though, you’ve just secured second best duellist in the school” her tone was mocking but he could hear the glee in her voice. He laughed breathily down her ear, sending tingles down her spine.

“Shall we see?” He ushered her forward ahead of him to the stage.

She had missed Sebastian and Imelda’s duel completely, but from their faces she gathered that Sebastian had won. He was riling up the crowd for the final duel, pacing in the front row, two fingers sticking forward from his face like a snakes tongue, hissing. Soon, the whole crowd was a sea of serpents, with the Slytherin students getting particularly into the impromptu chant.

“Ready?” Ominis mouthed from the opposite side of the room. Something about the curve of his mouth and his whole demeanour, frightened her. No it wasn’t fear. Her chest felt tight and her skin was ablaze but she wasn’t scared, more…vulnerable?

“Anything goes…right Brattleby? He asked raising his head high and rolling his sleeves. Had he always been so…arrogant? And why was she okay with it? This sort of behaviour would usually immediately turn her off, she’d seen it with Leander multiple times. But this was different. Regal. Domineering. Attractive?

With the agreement made from Lucan, he cast off the starting flare, hitting the Bell Towers pendulum and the slow chug of the portcullis lowering began. The metallic rattle shook the arena and silenced the crowd immediately.

She turned her head, assessing her surroundings and she noticed, Ominis mirrored her, exactly.

How?

She shifted her feet pacing in the opposite direction and, again, he copied her exact moves.

“Is there something a matter?” He called to her and her eyebrows furrowed.

“Enough of this” she spat, casting out a flurry of spells. As he had with Sebastian he blocked them all but he hadn’t counted on her continuing. Though she’d cast it wordlessly, he knew it was Confringo based on the light aroma of burning wood and the blast that he took to his chest. He coughed out his next breathe, patted down his tie and loosening it as he did.

“Serpensortia…” he sneered and a bright white snake fell from the tip of his wand “Engorgio” it’s tiny lithe body bubbled grotesquely until a huge snake wrapped itself around half of the court. Screams came from onlookers but Evelyn, simply giggled. So he was going to use Parseltongue. Interesting. She heard Sebastian hollering from crowd, the only other person, she suspected, who knew what he was doing.

The snakes body coiled around Ominis’ feet as it’s head hovered close to his shoulder. His fingers skimmed under the snakes jaw as he whispered in its ear, no doubt trying to hide his gift. Was she jealous of a snake right now?

Following up on its masters wishes the snakes jaw unhinged and hissed violently towards Evelyn. It shot out toward her and she laughed maniacally. She was sure the other schools would think she was mad but, snakes were always, such beautiful creatures. And under Ominis’ control she knew she didn’t have to fear it.

“I’m so sorry, Ominis, I’m going to have to kill your little pet here” she wound her wand around her fingers gathering all the ancient magic she could. As she had done many times with spiders, she pulled the beast towards her shrinking it as it flew through the air. The, now tiny, beasts body hit her hand and it flaked to blue ash, dissipating in the cool spring breeze. She looked back at Ominis, a second too late to see the purple light of Accio flying toward her. G

She felt the tug of her collar lift her slightly from the ground, the tips of her shoes dragging across the stone as Ominis yanked her towards him. His fingertips grazed the skin of her chest as he grabbed at her clothing. The telltale sting of his touch seared across her collarbone.

“You really should keep your eyes on me” he chuckled softly “Do you concede?” He asked whipping his wand to press delicately against her temple and bringing her towards him. She writhed against his grasp as she pondered her next move. There was something but it was awful to do…especially to him. Placing her free hand against his chest to stabilise herself, she flicked her wand to his ear.

“Muffliato” she spat and he immediately let go. His hands flew to his ears trying to block out the many voices he was now hearing. He smirked, eyes darting around to try and hone in on her.

“Very clever” he shot back through gritted teeth.

Though on paper it may have seemed pleasant, having his mind filled with her voice, but it was anything but. Whispers and screams all overlapped fighting for attention at the forefront of his mind, each saying a different spell or incantation. Occasionally, her voice would ring forward with his name and he would turn in its direction. An instinct he now wished hadn’t become embedded in his very core.

Evelyn snapped her fingers a few times in front of Ominis to verify if her charm had worked. No reaction. She puffed her cheeks out in a sigh of relief, but she couldn’t help but feel a little bad. She watched his eyes dart around, and his erratic movements trying to seek her out, without his most dominant sense.

“Expelliar-“ she began before being cut short.

His hand flew to around her wrist, pulling her arm up and closer to him. She stood stretched upwards in front of him as she had to his Accio, only now, he dropped his face to hers. He was mere inches away.

“I’ll ask again” he whispered “Do you concede?”

“I still have my wand…Depulso” she barked causing enough of a blast between them both that they each went flying. They both landed and took up their wands.

“Confringo!” They cast simultaneously. The spell colliding mid field and as they both maintained the cast, the flaming lashes continued between the two of them. The roaring core of their spells bled out onto the stone, blackening where it touched. They stayed locked in their tug of war for a few moments before Lucan intervened.

“Enough!” He bellowed full of joy. His voice startling them both, interrupting the spell casting. “I think we have a first here at Crossed Wands today. A DRAW. We can’t stand here all night watching you two trade blows. Congratulations to our reigning and new Crossed Wands Champions!”

The crowd sang out with uproarious applause. Evelyn smiled widely, clapping for her competitors as Ominis walked over to her. He grinned back at her and bowed deeply, before taking her hand. They raised they’re hands high and both bowed to the crowd.

~

The crowd at the Bell Tower courtyard dispersed quickly. It was late and the Great Halls feast was only moments away. Ominis, Imelda, Evelyn and Sebastian walked together for dinner, occasionally being stopped by another student to congratulate them all on how well they did.

“I’m just saying, if those two are joint first, then I’m technically, technically, still second best in the school” Sebastian argued

“I don’t think that’s how it works. Does that make me third best?” Imelda asked

“Not with that shoddy display in there, Darling” he said mockingly. Imelda scoffed and pushed him through the doors to the Great Hall.

“We’ll collect some food and we can get out of here” Ominis said, squeezing Evelyn’s shoulder indicating he was talking to her. He felt her stiffen up and then immediately relax, her hand lightly brushing across his knuckles.

“Oh I had forgotten about that. It’s late are you sure you want to do it tonight? I don’t mind helping you over the weekend? I’m free Sund-”

“Oh no no you’re not getting out of this that easily. I seem to remember you saying you would ‘thoroughly destroy me’ How did that work out for you?” he teased collecting a few pastries “I’d say you owe me double no-“ he turned and bumped into a figure stood entirely too close to him. “Watch where you’re standing” he snapped

“Oh my you are blind. Mmm well that makes your victory at your little duelling club all the more impressive” a lithe French voice rang out from below him. He furrowed his brows in confusion.

“I didn’t win” he stated matter of factly “My friend here is a formidable opponent. I share my ‘Victory’ with her” his hand gestured to where he knew Evelyn was stood. He felt a silent rage wash over him with the heat emanating from her direction.

Imelda was clutching Sebastian’s arm willing him to listen to this display. He sat mouth agape eyes darting between Ominis, Evelyn and the Beauxbatons student. Imelda grinned evilly watching Evelyn, indulging in the drama of it all.

“You are too kind, too…humble.” The beauxbaton student placed the palm of her hand against his chest, leaning further into him. His neck craned backwards as she spoke up into his face “An excellent display, one I would have obviously expected from the Noble House of Gaunt” she kissed his cheek before leaving, the click of her heels against stone conveying her giddy gait.

A sickening silence fell over the four as they awkwardly gathered food. Ominis was the first to break it.

“What in Merlin’s name was that about?”

“Seems you have an admirer” Imelda’s voice was smug as she looked at Evelyn

Don’t. Start. Evelyn mouthed. Imelda shrugged and took a swig of her pumpkin juice, wiggling her eyebrows as she did.

You okay? Sebastian asked silently, before Evelyn could answer Ominis interrupted

“I can hear you mouthing to one and other! You know I hate that” he sighed “I think I’ve had enough socialising for one day” and he turned to walk away. When he didn’t hear Evelyn’s footsteps behind him, he stopped, turned and extended his hand towards her “Still not getting out of this Eve.” His fingers twitched slightly beckoning her forward “Come”

Masterlist

[blossom-hwa]

Well in that case: Wooyoung + Yellow

wooyoung yellow supremacy LET'S GO the man is LITERAL SUNSHINE !!!!!!!!!!!! thank you so much for this request!!!!!!

4 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/The Boyz/Golden Child/Ateez member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

This is set in the same universe as the model!Wooyoung I wrote after his studio choom aotm was released, You're the Only One Who Matters - you can read it here!

~

Title: Golden Hour

Pairing: Wooyoung x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 1.1k

Triggers: suggestive towards the end (NOTHING GRAPHIC)

~

The photoshoot finishes in the late afternoon, golden sunshine streaming down Wooyoung's slim figure and bathing him in warm light. With the ocean in the background shimmering in alternating shades of blue green and pinkish orange, he looks like a heaven-sent angel, touched down on earth to grace humanity with a piece of unearthly beauty.

It's perfect, you think as Mingi flips through the pictures on his camera, showing you each outfit, each pose Wooyoung held that day. The fitted suit, the coiffed hair, the light but prominent golden jewelry slung around his neck and arms... You allow yourself a moment of pride as you smile at Mingi. "These are great," you say, patting his shoulder. "Run them over by Hongjoong for a second opinion, but if he likes them, I think we're good to submit."

Mingi beams, flashing you a quick farewell before going off to find Hongjoong. You turn your attention to Wooyoung, who's thanking a group of staff on their way off the beach. "Wooyoung!" you call, stepping carefully over the sand.

At the sound of his name, a wide smile splashes across Wooyoung's face like the small waves breaking on the ocean, throwing bits of golden light into the air. "Y/N!" He bounds over, that smile radiating even more light than the sun. "How did I look?"

You smile at that, a variant of the question he's asked every shoot since that night so many months ago when he leaned in close, all silver jewelry and silk clothes and that alluring face, and asked you, "How do I look?" Unlike that time, though, you no longer have any issue answering the question Wooyoung so loves to ask.

"Gorgeous," you answer honestly. "If the magazine tells us to re-shoot these, I'm going to have to sue them or something. I think the photos we got this time are some of the best you've ever modeled." Reaching up, you rearrange the thin golden necklace around his throat. The metal is warm from the heat of his skin, and it sparkles in the sun. "So tell me, Woo, what's it like being the god of the sun at golden hour?"

He laughs at that, loud and cackling and with such genuine cheer that even though everyone here is used to his antics and giggles, they turn around anyway to watch him laugh with a smile. "It feels amazing," he replies, opening his arms with a dramatic flair. The thin material of his flowing sleeves ripples in the ocean breeze, making him look almost like a butterfly spreading its wings. "All these mortals gazing upon me, staring at me, taking pictures of me..."

"Alright alright, that's enough," you laugh, pushing him lightly. "We get it, you're beautiful."

"You didn't let me finish." Wooyoung pouts, his hands dropping back to his side. "I was about to say there was only one mortal who mattered."

You raise an eyebrow, even as your heart thuds a little faster. "And who might that be?"

"You." Wooyoung leans in and kisses you playfully. "Who else?"

"You sap." You shake your head, not even bothering to hide your smile anymore. "Let's get back to the hotel room. I think everyone's pretty much done here, and you need to get changed. I don't want these clothes ruined."

. . .

Face washed bare of makeup and hair still damp from the shower, Wooyoung walks out of the bathroom as you finish putting the clothes back where they belong. His footsteps pad softly on the floor and before you know it, he's hugging you from behind, chin hooked over your shoulder. "Hi."

"Hi, yourself." You turn your head back as much as you can to catch a glimpse of his face, eyes closed and lips smiling in seeming peace. "Tired?"

"No more than usual." He yawns, slightly, pulling away from your back to sit on the bed. "Are we still going to dinner?"

"As long as you're up for it." You take in his outfit - silk shirt with gold accents done by your hand, black pants, a thin golden pendant hung around his neck. "Judging by what you're wearing, I'm assuming that's a yes?"

"Yeah!" Wooyoung grins, bouncing slightly on the mattress. You break into a smile - looking at him like this, it's so hard to believe he was the same shining Adonis from several hours ago on the beach, basking in the golden sun like a god from the heavens. Wooyoung is no less beautiful in any situation, but as he beams up at you, you can't help but admire the duality he possess on a daily basis. It's fascinating. "You like the outfit? You made it."

You laugh. "I made the shirt," you correct, sitting next to him on the bed to adjust the collar. "Still playing up the sun god angle, aren't you?"

His grin turns slightly devilish. "Do you like it?"

This time you purposely withhold an answer, even though the smile on your face growing wider by the second spells everything out as clear as day. "What do you think?" you ask.

Wooyoung's eyes narrow. He tilts his head to one side, letting the collar you just adjusted slip down again to reveal a smooth expanse of skin. Internally, one part of you snorts at the obvious accidentally-on-purpose display, but the other part of you keeps feeling warmer by the second. He was giggling just minutes ago - how does he change so fast?

"I think..." He pauses, and instinctively you know that the tables have turned. Whatever hold you once had over him disappears as Wooyoung leans in, placing a warm hand on your thigh. "I think you like it very much," he says, breath ghosting over your skin.

Involuntarily, you shiver slightly. The sun outside the window streams over Wooyoung's body, shimmering on the silk with its gold accents, bathing him in the warmth of a god sending a blessing on their chosen ones. "You're right," you whisper, almost afraid that if you speak too loudly, you'll break this blissful golden spell Wooyoung has cast on you, bathing you in his warm light. "I do."

The hand on your thigh presses a little more. "Want to show me how much?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Didn't you say you wanted dinner?"

"Dinner can wait." Wooyoung gently pushes you into the mattress with a grin somewhere between a laugh and a smirk. You really want to kiss it. "We still have a bit of golden hour left, don't we?"

[imagine-darksiders]

Old Timer

Chapter 4 - Together again.

-----------

“Eideard?” 

His name tiptoes from your lips in a whispered breath.

You stare at him, your mouth hanging slightly agape and refusing to close, as though the very muscles in your jaw have forgotten how they're supposed to work.

There had once been a thousand things you would have wanted to say to him, if ever given the chance, yet now, in the moment where that chance has actually come about, you find yourself devoid of any words or thoughts.

“You all right there, bonnie?” the maker asks, his lips twitching into a hesitant smile, “Look like you've seen a ghost.”

'A ghost!.... Ha!' 

You'd laugh if you didn't think you might faint at any moment. Instead, your mouth opens with the intention to scoff at the dramatic irony of his statement, but what comes out instead is a strangled sob that causes the maker's ears to tilt down in alarm.

“Hey, hey now...” he utters softly, lifting his hand up towards you, his gaze darting to the tears that have begun to roll down your cheeks, “What's this about? Eh? Did old Cruim scare you? Is it your leg?”

Covering your mouth, it’s all you can do to just stare back and shake your head.

As far as Eideard knows, something truly horrific must be happening to you that would warrant the spilling of this many tears. Makers are seldom known to cry, even under the most terrible, unimaginable duress. 

Guided by something that's not quite instinct, but stronger than a simple urge to help, to fix, he reaches up to his shoulder until a careful finger hovers gingerly just inches from the skin of your cheek. Then, sucking down a steadying breath, Eideard wills himself to close the distance, hardly daring to inhale again as he sweeps the very tip of his forefinger over your cheekbone and brushes away the wet tear tracks that linger there.

To his utmost dismay, the action only makes you start to cry even harder and he quickly withdraws his hand, worried that he'd somehow managed to hurt you.

He has no idea that by wiping away your tears, he'd unintentionally echoed the very last moments you'd spent with the Eideard from your timeline.

He’d collapsed, laying prone in the soft grass. Your tears had mingled with the blood pooling in his clavicle as you knelt on his chest and wailed, your fists pounding above his heart in the desperate hope that you could bully the fading organ into beating strong and steady once again. You'd gone still however, weeping hopelessly when Eideard's thumb swept gently over your cheek and gathered up the tears there.

The memory is a powerful one, and you have to blink furiously until the blurred image of a dying Eideard is replaced by the very much alive maker staring at you with concern lining his youthful features.

You've seen that expression so often, you never thought you'd miss it so much after you stopped seeing it.

All of a sudden, through no real cognitive decision of your own, you promptly launch yourself sideways along the maker's broad shoulder and collide with his head.

Though reflex tells him to flinch, Eideard forces himself to keep still as thin, delicate arms are slung around his face and a warm body squashes into his cheek shortly after.

He's monumentally glad that he has yet to venture down into the village proper. Standing up here next to the entrance, none of his fellows will be able to make out the rosy flush that has shot up into his ears, should they happen to look.

It isn't as though makers are a species for whom intimacy is a foreign concept, but intimacy outside of social circles is a rare and seldom-witnessed occurrence, whilst intimacy between members of two separate species is all but unheard of.

Despite his uncertainty, Eideard's heart flutters at the thought that he's managed to earn this splendid reward and he momentarily forgets that he's supposed to be worried about you, too distracted by the realisation that he has never known a touch so gentle, yet so fierce at the same time. If he dwells on it for too long, he'll probably grow sad to consider how he's lived his whole life deprived of the sensation of hands pressing indents into his skin.

Of their own accord, his fingertips come to rest on your fragile spine and '...Oh,' he thinks as you bury your face even more firmly against him, '...I could get used to this.'

But when a hitching sob suddenly causes you to jerk beneath his fingers, he springs to attention once more and banishes the desire to push his head urgently into your touch.

“I didn't thank you...”

Eideard freezes at the sound of your voice, trembling and small next to his ear.

“What's that you say?” he swallows.

But it's as though you don't even hear him. From his angle, the maker can't see that your eyes are wide open and staring out towards the village beyond, yet you're completely blind to everything happening around you whilst the same, terrible memory plays cruelly in your mind's eye. 

Eideard, laying on the ground, blood trickling from his nose, mouth and even from behind his eyelids, like little rivers running off the face of a mountain. His once pristinely white beard had been so stained with blood, your hands became soaked with it when you clawed your way up his chest, delirious beyond coherency.

“I-I can't remember if I ever thanked you,” you say again in a warbling whisper that causes Eideard's ears to perk up attentively, “For saving us - For... for everything.”

Your slip-up doesn’t even catch his notice, not that you really notice it either, though. 

Another sob catches like a rock in your throat and you turn your face away from the village, burying it into a soft, fluffy beard and letting your eyes dampen the old maker's cheek. A cheek that's warm and flushed with colour, a far cry from the cold, pale cheek you remember crying into at the centre of the valley all those long months ago.

Eideard's familiar smell fills your nostrils as you draw a deep inhale through your nose and let yourself bask in the unplaceable scent that reminds you of wood and soil.

You've missed him.

Shit... You've missed him so much.

It's perhaps a blessed thing that you hadn't said that last part out loud and baffled the maker even more than you already have, because not a second later, his throat rumbles with an uncertain chuckle and he says, “S'this how you thank everyone who saves you from a demon? Or am I just a special exception?”

And just like that, the reality of the situation comes flooding back to hit you with the force of a speeding bullet-train, smacking you from your memories and dumping you unceremoniously into Tri Stone once again.

Lurching away from the maker, your eyes snap open and you tear your arms from his face and sputter out a nonsensical string of sounds, earning a bemused grin from Eideard, who twists his head sideways to watch you raise your hands to your face, covering it slowly as rationality cuts through the haze of shock and a horrifying realisation dawns on you.

This is Eideard. But this is not your Eideard. Not yet.

He has no idea that you're thanking him for so much more than he could possibly imagine.

“I-I'm sorry,” you stammer at last, swiping furiously at your eyes, “I just... wanted to thank you for saving me from the stalker. Yeah. B-but, I didn't mean to, uh, hug you like that. I'm... honestly not sure what came over me.”

His expression softens and he quirks his lips into a playful smirk. “Hmm, well, whatever it was, I hope there'll be more.”

'Oh for god's sake.' Mortally embarrassed, you turn away from him and hope that the heat in your cheeks isn't obvious.

For all he knows, you've just draped yourself across his face like a lovesick fool, all because he saved you from a stalker.

But perhaps most mortifying of all, what really disturbs you, is that Eideard – your Eideard, the kindly maker with the disposition of a doting father – is, or rather, used to be a shameless flirt.

An attractive, shameless flirt.

Oh God... You're fairly certain you flirted back.

And it's Eideard...

Your vision starts to swim.

Just then, an enormous fingertip slides beneath your chin and you find yourself helpless to resist as your face is guided back towards him. Red-tinged eyes meet ethereal blue and for one, jarring moment, the stern yet fretful tilt of his golden brows ages the maker's face enough that you catch a glimpse of the old Eideard hidden underneath.

“Hey. Don't you go hiding that pretty face from me,” he rumbles, “I need to know you're all right.”

Your heart does a somersault.

“I'll be fine,” you slur, swaying on his shoulder, “Think I just need to lay down..”

Eideard's bemused expression quickly shifts to alarm when your body goes limp and you begin to tilt sideways, gradually slipping from the maker's broad shoulder. Fortunately for you, Eideard has always been an exceptionally attentive maker, even at this young age, and without missing a beat, he spins his hand around to capture you gently between his fingers.

The motion jerks you back to full consciousness again and you give your head a shake, blinking up into the pale, blue eyes of a highly concerned maker.

“Think it's time I got you to the Shaman,” he suggests.

Sagging heavily against his fingers, you can't help but agree. “I think that's a good idea.”

You wish you could just disappear, save yourself from the mortifying ordeal of knowing that you've been receiving advances from Eideard of all people.

That's... going to take some adjusting to.

Eyeing the village ahead, the maker turns his focus onto the eastern side, where the lights are dimmest and the gaps between each stone hut are frequent and draped in shadow. He hums pensively and begins to walk.

It isn't that he doesn't want his fellow makers to meet you – but he'd prefer to get you to the shaman sooner rather than later and get your leg tended to....

…

And... though he isn't proud to admit it, he wouldn't mind keeping you to himself just a little while longer.

Slowly, steadily, he carries you down the village steps, casting frequent glances down at you to ascertain your condition. Every time, he finds you staring back at him with a spell-bound look in your eyes.

Glowing under the attention, he spares a moment to waggle his brows at you, relishing the squeak that jumps out of your mouth as you hurriedly avert your gaze.

With a warm chuckle, Eideard returns his attention to the walled garden at the far end of the village – and promptly stiffens at the sound of voices calling his name.

“Eideard!”

“You're back!”

He doesn't miss that you turn rigid in his palm, prompting him to lift you a little higher into the air as he shoots you an apologetic glance, slowing his gait just in time to avoid tripping over a trio of tiny, excitable younglings who appear from nowhere and fall into step around him.

“Where've you been!?” a maker boy shouts, and grinning so widely, his cheeks start to turn red. “Did you kill any baddies!?”

Curious, you lean forwards over Eideard's fingers and peer down, only to find yourself biting back the urge to coo out loud at the endearing sight.

The youngling who'd spoken looks as though he'd barely stand a few heads higher than you and he's jogging backwards to avoid Eideard's boots as the older maker continues to advance cautiously down the path. A mess of shocking, copper hair sticks up from the top of his head, though it's clear that at some point, another maker has tried to gather the unruly mess into some semblance of a braid that hangs down to his shoulders and is sloppily tied off with a blue ribbon. The moment your face pokes out from behind Eideard's fingers, the youngling lets out a loud gasp and nearly trips over his own feet, eyes growing round.

“What. Is. That!?” he exclaims, pointing up at you.

“Mind your manners,” the older maker scolds gently, “It's not nice to point. This is my new friend – Oh.” Swivelling his gaze back onto you, he blinks, looking the slightest bit sheepish. “I don't think I ever did catch your name.”

“Huh? Oh, I guess we never really introduced ourselves properly, did we?.” Scratching at the back of your neck, you introduce yourself. “Y/n. My name’s Y/n.” 

“Y/n...” he repeats in a dulcet murmur, his attention never leaving you, even as he addresses the boy at his feet, “This is my friend, Y/n, Ulthane.”

The youngling's eyes remain wholly fixed upon you and he utters a small 'oooh' of wonder, standing on the toes of his boots to see you better. And whilst you're just as intrigued with the maker-in-miniature, it's his name that catches your ear.

“Wait... Did you just call him Thane?” you blurt, incredulous.

All of a sudden, another voice pipes up from Eideard's left. “He's not Thane, I am!”

Startled, you glance down to find another maker youngling frowning back up at you and jabbing a finger towards the copper-haired boy. “That's Ulthane. He's my brother.”

With a slow blink, you take in the new youngling as he trots along at Eideard's side.

“No way,” you breathe, letting your jaw drop further and further with each passing second.

Well. It's Thane alright - from the steely eyes that regard you warily, to the walnut-brown hair sticking up from his head like a bird's nest, much akin to his brother's. There's a purple bruise colouring one of his cheekbones, worn proudly, no doubt the mark of accomplishment from a bout of rough-housing with his fellow younglings.

Slowly, with the kind of hesitancy that's fostered from sheer disbelief, you work your lips into a half-smile and utter, “Hi... Thane.”

Flicking his gaze between you and Eideard, Thane fidgets under your stare and drops back a little until he's partially hidden behind the larger maker's boots.

“Ha!” Ulthane jeers, “He's scared!”

In an instant, his brother raises his voice and retorts, “I AM NOT!”

You pick your jaw up and rub tentatively at your forehead, sensing the beginnings of a headache coming on. To think, one day, this boy will turn into the herculean warrior who once bested Death in combat...

“You're pretty,” an airy, feminine voice suddenly pipes up, and you whip your head around and down once again, catching sight of yet another, even younger maker beaming back at you, so small that she's practically jogging to keep up with Eideard's lengthy strides.

“Told you,” the elder in question murmurs smugly, pushing his thumb into your ribs.

Momentarily forgetting about Thane, you flop your jaw around for a few seconds before any sort of thought finally occurs. “Uh... Thanks?” you reply, hastily adding, “Y-you too.”

Pawing her long, blonde hair behind one of her ears, she giggles and ducks behind Eideard and out of sight, though the pitter-patter of her feet mixed between the heavy stomps of his own betray the fact that she's keeping pace close at his heels.

Meanwhile, Thane has finally left the safety of Eideard's shadow and has joined his brother in trying to walk as tall as he can on his toes to see over the older maker's hands, evidently curious about the newcomer in his midst now that your attention has turned elsewhere.

After a moment, he pipes up. “What are you?”

You don't think you'll ever get used to looking down at Thane.

Before you can open your mouth to reply, Ulthane suddenly blurts out a question of his own. “How come you're so small?”

“Um.. well, I -” you attempt, but no sooner do you try to speak than questions begin to take turns flying from their tongues, each fired off far too quickly for you to formulate a single response.

“Are you a maker?”

“Where'd Eideard find you?”

“Where are your tusks?”

“How old are you?”

“Why do you -”

“All right now, you lot. That's enough,” the older maker interjects, coming to a stop at the foot of a staircase that leads up towards the luscious garden you'd seen on your arrival, “I didn't bring Y/n back to the village to be interrogated. Why don't you three wait here while we go and find the shaman, eh?”

Almost instantly, his suggestion is met with a chorus of disappointed moans and objections.

“Aw, but Eideaaaard!” Ulthane whinges, putting a broad grin on your face.

Thane, in the meantime, steps forward to grab Eideard's trouser leg, tugging at it imploringly. “We promise to not ask any more questions!”

You risk a subtle glance up at the maker's face, admittedly curious to find out whether he has always been a pushover, even from an early age. And from the press of his lips and rapidly-tilting brow, it looks as though his resolve is already starting to waver.

“I... I don't mind if they come along,” you suggest at last, earning a delighted gasp from the younglings and a skeptical look from the older giant.

“You sure?” he asks, “Don't want you to be-” Something abruptly tells him that you won't appreciate it if he says 'scared.' So, instead, he mumbles, “- overwhelmed.”

You almost want to laugh aloud. How in the world could you be any more overwhelmed than you already are? You're sitting in a young Eideard's palm, being stared at by a much younger Thane, in a Tri Stone that's twice the size of the one you left.

'Overwhelmed' is a gross understatement.

Instead of voicing that thought however, you simply brush it aside and offer a shrug. “I don't mind,” you say again. And honestly? You really don't mind. There are far more pressing matters weighing on your conscience than a couple of adorable, curious younglings.

Eideard however, still seems hesitant, a direct contrast to the three young makers who, at your words, promptly dart up the steps, with Ulthane in the lead.

“Muria!” he hollars her name boisterously, “You'll never guess what we've found!”

At hearing the confirmation of Muria's presence, your heart soars into your throat but you're quick to rein in your enthusiasm, aware that she, like Eideard, will have no idea who you are.

“We?” you mouth at him, echoing Ulthane's claim.

Eideard's moustache twitches and the corners of his eyes lift up until they're wrinkled with a friendly smile. “Ah, don't mind the boys. They just like to be included.”

Gradually, he begins to take the steps after the youngest maker, watching vigilantly as she struggles to keep up with the brothers, whose legs are far longer than her own.

Sadly, she must have misjudged the distance between herself and one of the steps, because when she leaps up onto it, only half of her boot makes it with her, and there's a heart-lurching second where she begins to tip backwards again, her chubby arms flailing as she tries to propel herself out of losing her balance.

“Careful!” you gasp.

But then, to your relief, Eideard stoops and throws his hand out, halting her fall with the back of his knuckles. “Easy there, Elanya. What’ve I said about looking where you’re going?”

Gently, he pushes her upright once again and she tosses him a bright grin over her shoulder before scampering up the stairs, as though she hadn't almost fallen down them mere seconds ago.

Standing to his full height, the maker watches her all the way up the stairs, releasing a sigh of relief when she arrives at the top with no further incident. Tipping his head down, he's about to begin his own ascent when he catches your eye and hesitates with one foot poised to carry him forward. You're lounging back against his fingers, an elbow balanced on the edge of his thumb and your fist propping up your chin, giving the maker your most knowing stare.

“What?” he asks.

In response, you merely lift your shoulders in a shrug and say, “Oh, nothing. It's just nice to know I'm dealing with a gigantic softie, that's all.” Of course, you've known that all along – but it does provide you some comfort to know that it won't be age that softens Eideard's heart. Evidently, he's always been of a gentler nature than most.

Furrowing his brow doesn't hide the glint of playfulness in his eyes as he begins to take the steps two at a time, shaking his head.

It doesn't escape your notice however, that he never disputes the claim.

[literallythebiggestfuckingsimp]

Our Little Secret

description: you and rudy have been sneaking around for a while now, what happens when you get caught in front of thousands of fans?😳😳

warnings: making out?? ooo and swearing oops (as a british person i can’t just NOT swear)

            Rudy’s lips smashed against yours, moving hungrily as his arms snaked around your waist. You gasped, arms moving to hook around his neck as he slipped his tongue in your mouth. You had to be on set in five, and you were just passing the time with your good friend Rudy in his trailer.

Between the two of you, neither of you were quite sure what you were. So far, all you guys had done was purely physical. Of course, there had been lingering touches, longing stares, stolen smiles. But you hadn’t talked about it. 

It had started with flirty jokes, and then, boom! It just kinda happened, if you were being honest.

Not breaking the kiss, the two of you stumbled backwards until you bumped into the table. You jumped up and he took his pace between your legs, detaching his lips from yours and turning his attention to the skin on your neck. You moaned, heading rolling back to give him more access.

“Hey, Rudy? You in there?” Your eyes widen at the voice outside the trailer door, freezing both yours and Rudy’s movements.

“Uh, yeah?” Rudy says, clearing his throat.

“Why’s the door locked, toot?” You could practically see the suggestive smirk on Chase’s face.

“Cause I’m about to take a shit and I didn’t want anyone to come in here and smell that,” Rudy replies, looking at you with a grin on his face. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, pressing your face up to it to suppress your laughter.

Chase laughs. “Alright, then, but have you seen Y/N? I’ve been looking for her everywhere.”

“Nah, sorry bro,” Rudy calls out when you shake your head at him. “I’ve gotta take this shit or I’ll explode. See you in a sec.”

“It’s good, bro,” Chase replies. “She’s gotta be on set now, though. I’ll find her, don’t worry about it. Probably went off to craft services or something.”

You glare at the door where Chase is stood on the other end, but your eyes widen wen you realise you’re gonna be late to set.

“Cya, man,” Rudy says, helping you down from the counter as you pat down your hair. Chase mumbles a “bye”.

You two wait until it’s clear, giving Rudy a quick peck as you subtlety sneak out the trailer door once you’re sure Chase is gone.

As you walk - more like jog - away, you look back. Through the window you salute to Rudy, and he salutes back with a maniacal grin on his perfect face.

♡

You’ve just finished shooting for the day, and straight away, you headed over to see Rudy. He’d slid you a note earlier in the day to meet him at his trailer once you were done.

Arriving, you were immediately pulled into a kiss by by the blond headed bimbo who’d stolen your heart. You smiled against his lips, happily thinking about the fact that you could finally call him yours.

Around two weeks ago now you two had finally sorted through your shit and admitted your feelings for each other. However, you’d both decided it would be better if you kept your newfound relationship to yourselves. You didn’t want to make things awkward if it didn’t work out, and, besides, sneaking around was fun. “Think of it as our little secret,” you had said.

You pulled away from the kiss and he pouted. Laughing, you pecked him on the cheek and watched as a smile took over on his lips. Rudy’s arms situated themselves around your waist as he laid the two of you down on the makeshift sofa in his trailer.

Rudy was lying on your lap as you played with his hair, occasionally kissing him as some stupid ass movie played on the TV. It was a nice breather from all the crazy scenes you’d been filming and you couldn’t feel more relaxed.

Well, that was until there was a knock at the door. You wasted no time in rushing into the bathroom, hiding as Rudy went to answer the door.

“Yo, dude,” you hear JD greet and you mentally cuss him out.

“Uh, hey, JD, Maddie,” Rudy says. “What’s up?”

“Why’re you being so weird?” Maddie questions, confused as to why Rudy seemed hesitant about letting them in.

“Me?” Rudy asks, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m not being weird.”

“Whatever,” Madison huffs. You hear her and JD walk in and mutter profanities under your breath. Thank god you had picked up your phone from the sofa or you would be toast. “We wanted to watch a movie and you have the comfiest couch.”

“What’re we watchin?” Rudy asks, bouncing on his heels. Madison shares a look with JD, confused as to what the hell was up with him.

“I dunno,” JD shrugs. “I gotta take a tinker in your bathroom, though. I’ll be right back.” He says, and your eyes widen.

“No!” Rudy calls out, and you search frantically for an escape route. There’s a window, but it’s kinda small, you’re not sure if you’d fit. Fuck it, you think as you hear JD and Mads confront Rudy about being weird.

“I just mean ... it’s kinda rank in there,” Rudy says, scratching the back of his neck.

“Disgusting,” Madison mutters.

“I’ll just block out the smell,” JD shrugs. “I’m desperate, bro.”

Rudy silently prays to himself as you fumble about the bathroom, climbing on top of the seat. You put one leg through the window as the footsteps land right outside the door, and  try to slyly maneuver yourself out with your phone in one hand. Your plan fails miserable and you tumble to the ground, landing in a bush.

“Fuck,” you mutter, sitting up and pulling leaves out your hair.

The door to the bathroom swings open and you run as fast as you can back to your own trailer. You ignore the confused looks of the crew members, and Drew calling your name as he sees you run past with twigs in your hair.

As soon as you get back to your trailer, you shoot Rudy a quick text.

I jumped out the window ;)

Jesus, Y/N. You good?

Yeah, just thank god for my super rad spy skills.

Sure, baby. Sure.

♡

You giggle as Rudy pushes you down on your bed, peppering your skin with kisses, making you laugh more.

Filming had ended and you were currently quarantined with the cast, stuck in yours and Madelyn’s apartment. After the release of the show, you had gained quite a big fan base and your time had been occupied with online interviews and live streams. You’ve barely had the chance to sneak around with Rudy, not wanting to raise any suspicions since fans had already started shipping the two of you, pointing out the way he looks and interacts with you, and vice versa.

You didn’t want to let your friends catch on. Not yet.

Swiftly, you flip you and Rudy over, straddling him as you pull him in for a passionate kiss. You must not have heard the footsteps creeping up to your room, or the door swing open as you kissed your boyfriend.

A quick shriek alerted you of someone’s presence. You scrambled away from Rudy, cheeks red and eyes wide. It was Madelyn, stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide. Clumsily, she dropped her phone, the object clattering to the floor

“Fuck,” Rudy mutters, pulling on his shirt as you put your hands over your face in attempt to hide you embarrassment.

Madelyn stands dead still, frozen to the spot. “Oh my god, guys, I am so so so sorry! I didn’t know you two were-”

By now, you had alerted the attention of Chase and Drew, who came running over at the sound of a scream. It didn’t take them long to connect the dots, between your rosy cheeks and swollen lips and Rudy’s messy hair and flustered appearance.

“Oh, shit,” Drew swore, eyes wide.

“Uh, guys ...” Madelyn spoke up, chuckling nervously. “I was on live and they saw ...” she motions between the two of you with her hands, “that.”

Honestly, you think you could’ve died, right then and there. You scramble to grab Maddie’s phone from the floor, seeing the comments screaming about what they had just accidentally witnessed and quickly end the live.

“I’m so sorry!” Maddie squeals, cheeks tinging red. “I was planning on scaring Y/N and I didn’t think Rudy would be in here, let alone that you two would be-”

You quickly cut her off, scratching the back of your neck and biting your lip. “It’s fine, Maddie. Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah,” Rudy clears his throat. “You couldn't have known.”

“Uh, well,” Drew chuckles. “This is awkward.”

“Honestly, I’m gonna need a good few shots to erase the embarrassment of this moment from my memory,” you state, walking through the door and towards the kitchen where a bottle of vodka awaits you.

“I second that,” Rudy says, following you and lazily placing an arm around your waist.

Chase grins, watching the two off you. “So ... “ he trails off, gesturing between the two of you with his hand. “Are you two, yanno, together?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

You nod and Rudy smiles. “Yeah, we have been for a while now.”

“God, it’s about time!” Chase exclaims.

“You guys were pretty bad at hiding it,” Drew states, a grin of his own on his lips.

You mock fake offence, gasping as you poor the vodka into your shot glass. “We’ve been dating for four months, so, obviously not.” 

Madelyn’s mouth hangs open. “Four months?!” she yells. “And you didn’t tell us?”

Rudy shrugs, kissing your cheek fondly. “Eh, it was pretty fun sneaking around.”

“Agreed,” you say, smiling up at him. He meets your gaze, pecking you on the lips.

“Ew, you guys,” Chase groans. “Just because you’re together now doesn’t mean you can be all openly affectionate.”

Madelyn whacks his arm, rolling her eyes. “Shut up, they’re cute.”

“Nah, they’re gross,” Drew jokes, laughing. “Anyway, I made Mama Starkey’s casserole. Who wants some?”

“Me!” you exclaim, grinning excitedly. If there was one thing you loved it was Mama Starkey’s chicken casserole. Also, eating and drinking would be a good way to get your mind off the fact that practically the entire world saw you on top of a shirtless Rudy, making out with him.

A/N: AHAHAH THE WAY I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END THIS SHDJSHJDH also pls excuse the crappy writing this was made at 4am last night😳

[teatimecrumpetsandsugar]

ethereal (voltron fantasy/royalty AU) (set up; part zero)

Heyo! It’s your friendly neighborhood Voltron fanfic aficionado- now your friendly neighborhood Klance writer but that’s honestly besides the point I don’t even know why you’d bring up my increasing obsession with them in this Klance fanfic that I swear everyone else will be in, too-

Today, I’ll be writing from a fantasy royalty AU with my favorite show cast ever, even though it may or may not be solely because I want to put water elemental!king!Lance in pretty dresses and makeup and just go crazy with my descriptions of gowns and other things.

I imagine, here, Lance would be from a kingdom with strong ties to Pidge’s kingdom, who has strong ties with Hunk’s kingdom, making them a powerful trifecta. I also imagine that Keith and Lance’s kingdoms are on very thin ice with one another, so Pidge encourages Lance to sit down with fire elemental!king!Keith. 

I also imagine that Pidge’s kingdom is closely allied with Allura’s and that the two of them grew up together, while she didn’t meet Hunk or Lance until she became queen. Also, I’d like to have my beloved Ruler Pidge go by she/they pronouns, simply because I see a lot of myself in the way she dresses and carries herself and I actually believe that these pronouns would fit her, alongside all pronouns.

Hunk and Lance likely grew up together in a very close ally ship and continue to be close friends well into adulthood because that’s just how they are. I can imagine Lance is very vaguely aware of Allura’s kingdom and would never dream of picking a fight with hers since, by default, allying with Pidge made him allies with Allura, but he probably doesn’t know her very well pre the canon timeline because I kind of want to build that relationship from the ground up to make up for what the show did to me-

Keith is definitely allied with Shiro, and Pidge and Shiro were always friends through her older brother, who, along with her father, abdicated from the throne and joined an adventurer’s guild instead (because they believed that Pidge would be a better fit for a ruler and decided that, given how they are, reconnaissance and exploration fit them better. She agreed with this insight, deciding to rule the kingdom the best way she knew how). Shiro, being a much more experienced king and friends with their brother, likely prepared them for the role as they grew into it; the two are on friendly terms, but allied isn’t exactly the right term as none of the people in their alliance knew Keith, so they weren’t sure they could ally with him. 

Lance met Keith at a gala years into his reign; they did not get along.

The system of Magic here will likely be dictated by what element one is born in the kingdom of, (i.e., Lance’s kingdom being the Aqua Kingdom, Pidge’s being the Spiritus Kingdom) and the strength of it in each person will be chosen based on a random set of variables that usually depends on the mood of the Gods corresponding to each element.

Lance- Water (Aqua Kingdom)

Keith- Fire (Ignis Kingdom)

Pidge- Life (Spiritus Kingdom)

Hunk- Earth (Terra Kingdom)

Shiro- Moon (Luna Kingdom)

Allura- Light (Lux Kingdom)

I imagine the reason an alliance is called for with Keith and Shiro’s kingdoms is because a traitor to Allura’s kingdom, either Lotor is planning on starting an entire mutiny with the ranks he’s managed to gather and then, consequently, conquer all of the rest of the kingdoms by force in the name of a long-dead kingdom- the Tenebris kingdom. His parents having died in the midst of a total economic crash caused by a codependent relationship with Allura’s kingdom whilst it was under her father’s rule, he was taken in by the state of Lux by Allura’s request, since they grew up together; unfortunately Lotor held lingering feelings of resentment- towards Lux, for causing the destruction of the only thing he could’ve ever considered his own by right, and towards his parents for always making him feel as if he was of no worth. He wants to conquer the entire world just to prove to himself that he is worth something, though, unfortunately, he’s on a path straight to death.

Might redeem him, might kill him off, might exile him- who knows at this point?

Hunk, I imagine, was a commoner who won the title of king through a series of magic-based trials (upon the death of the last ruler) and now keeps his entire family in the palace with him, using his title to take care of his family and citizens as a benevolent ruler. This likely happened when he was quite young- likely when he was 9 or 10, since magic is an innate thing and, in this kingdom, it’s tested in the youngest members of the kingdom in order to deem who is the most connected to their Goddess Terra.

Allura inherited her title when her own father died in the conflict with Tenebris- he went to battle with the people they’d unintentionally doomed in order to protect his daughter and his people, and died in the process; similar to her story in Voltron except her kingdom survives and Lotor and a select few survivors of the Galra become refugees.

Keith became king by beating the previous king’s son in a battle- his mother, being one of the higher ups in the government, sent word to him that the prince didn’t want to be king, so Keith wound up challenging him for the title. He won, successfully making his way into the world of prestige and getting closer to his mother. The prince left the kingdom shortly after- it’s believed that he ran away to be with someone, but no one is quite sure. All anyone knows is that he’s happy.

Lance wound up being king at a really young age- I’m imagining that, prior to his reign, his kingdom was incredibly strictly patriarchal. The previous king likely only had daughters, and the day of his death, Lance was born with incredibly powerful water magic. As a result, at the age of 6 years old, he was forcibly taken from his poor family and raised strictly to be a perfect king- however, he still saw his sister Veronica frequently in secret, the two of them sneaking around to eat baked goods and try on dresses together. When the palace staff found out, they tightened security and warned Veronica that she was no longer allowed to see him unless she wanted to be publicly executed. After his coronation (at age 8), however, he started making drastic changes to the laws that made the laws against commoners interacting with royalty more lax, and, once allowed to dress himself, started wearing dresses and makeup because it reminded him of home and made him feel as beautiful as he knew he was. He gets quite homesick quite often, and he’s still battling to get his family into the palace with him- he has, however, stripped the kingdom of its strict patriarchy. He constantly tells the kingdom that he hopes to one day pass the throne down to his own future daughter and still keeps the three princesses as his trusted advisors because he believes what happened to them was horribly unjust. The story will be told primarily from his perspective.

Shiro became ruler of his kingdom by fighting his way through gladiator ranks when he was only thirteen, winning the entire kingdom by brute force alone and leaving him with a lot more experience and trauma than he’d have liked. Being the oldest of the current generation of rulers and having inherited a kingdom that was closely related to Pidge’s and Keith’s, he guided them both through the process of becoming a ruler and the process of ruling, no matter how difficult it gets. It’s taken far longer with Keith than it has Pidge, since Pidge was raised a royal and has an innate sense of leadership and Keith is... interesting at the whole being a royal thing. Shiro, having grown up with Keith’s mother on the streets of the kingdom of Tenebris, was more than happy to take Keith under his wing- it helps the both of them come out of their shells more, so they have a mutual appreciation for one another.

I imagine this world will be vaguely futuristic and medieval at the same time- they’ll be able to have video conferences and reach other via communicators, holographic calls, things of that nature; but they’ll also be pretty old-fashioned in their manners of dress, their social systems, their currencies, and the vast majority of their laws. I hope that makes sense.

I wonder if it’s visible here that I spent three hours winging this and started getting more and more into it as I went, or if it’s obvious that I spend most of my time working with really obscure fantasy concepts. 

BAHDHAAHAHA I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY THIS- 

If you’ve got any suggestions for relationship dynamics (platonic, romantic, or otherwise), any pitches for traits you think the characters may have based on their slightly altered backstories, or any feedback in general, feel free to share- I hope you all find this as fascinating as I did while I was writing it!

Also, @keefsteefs It’s happening, I’m doing it, it’s gonna be so fricking awesome-

[poptod]

The Breeding Kings, pt. 14, (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: And the blame.

Notes: WC: 5.6k

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Crimson painted his clothes as Batnoam fell to his knees, rushing to support his uncle's limp neck. Abdhamon's mouth gaped open as his head lolled to the side, the whites of his eyes rolling back to expose red veins, crawling up to his cloudy iris. A sharp gasp tore through you as you saw this. Batnoam cradled the corpse in his arms, calling his name again and again but never crying. No, he shook the weak shoulders, as though he were trying to wake the man up, not hug him.

Ahkmen grabbed you by the waist, pulling you close with the sudden realization that someone here killed Abdhamon. Someone stabbed him, someone was capable of murder, and he only knew five out of twenty-plus people, and even those relationships were no more than a scant introduction.

Others around him had the same idea––people grouped into each other, drawing closer to those they trusted and staring wide-eyed at anyone they distrusted. Murmurs ran through the crowd as Batnoam finally raised himself to his feet.

"How did this happen," he said, his voice trembling and low.

The mumbles disappeared into silence.

"Who did this?!" He barked louder, causing you to flinch back into Ahk's hold.

"Calm down, Batnoam," Ahk said softly.

"Don't tell me what to do!" He seethed, his hands curling into fists. "Someone here did this. We're four days' travel from any city."

Ahk's grip on your shoulders grew tighter.

"None of you are leaving till the murderer steps forward," said Batnoam as he met the eye of every listener.

"We don't have enough food to just stay here," Khawa said, stepping forward. "We need to keep moving."

"I'll starve all of you out," Batnoam growled. "I don't care how long it takes."

Frightened words poured from the mouths of onlookers, panicked by the sudden proclamation.

"My people need to be in Babylon within the week, we can't afford this kind of break," interrupted one of the women standing beside the Egyptian soldier Makko had warned Ahk about.

"You think I can afford the death of my uncle?" Batnoam responded bitterly.

"I don't –"

"No one is leaving. I want all of you inside this tent, now," Batnoam said as he drew out his sword, pointing everyone towards the white tent that the corpse of Abdhamon bled out under.

Awkward looks were followed by shuffling as Batnoam barked the order again, thrusting the curved blade towards the group. Ahk backed both of you away, rushing you into the tent and pulling you to the furthest corner, and sitting down quietly in hopes of avoiding suspicion.

Over time with you, Ahk slowly realized you only rarely initiated touch with him or anyone, but now you were pressing yourself against him, nearly sitting in his lap. You were wrapped around his arm, your legs half propped up on his own crossed legs.

"We'll do this organized," Batnoam said, watching carefully and counting those seated. "Clean. Fair. Unlike the coward who took Abdhamon in the night instead of facing his opponent like a man."

Ahk grimaced.

"I want you all to pick a representative," he said. "Someone you believe will protect your innocence, should you have it."

You and Ahk looked to each other.

"Do we.. both go up?" He asked softly.

"Do not ask me," you said, raising your hands defensively.

"Hey," someone whispered, tapping you on the shoulder.

You turned and Ahk followed as they tapped his shoulder, as well.

"You can go with us," Makko suggested, gesturing to his group.

"Who's speaking for you?" Ahk asked.

"Khawa."

"Absolutely," Ahk agreed without hesitation. He then turned to you and said in a much softer voice, "right? Is that alright?"

"Yes, that is good," you said quietly, your gaze darting between him, Makko, and Batnoam.

"Okay. Are you feeling alright?"

"Well..." you sucked in a breath as you looked up at him, "no. I do not see... the dead very much."

"Ah," he mumbled.

It was understandable––he was, in a way, desensitized to violence, and found himself more comfortable around it than many others were, but still less comfortable than people such as. He had never been sure whether or not you'd seen the actual death of your family members, and going by your current reaction he'd venture to guess you hadn't. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure what was worse; seeing your parents killed, or having them go missing without a single trace, like they'd never existed in the first place.

He began to wonder about Batnoam, about his parents, if he'd lost them and that was why he was with his uncle now. Batnoam was old enough to be on his own––a little over 20 years old––but that didn't mean he was self-sufficient.

Those thoughts, those questions, left his mind as you curled further into him, feeling your rapidly beating heart through his arm clutched to your chest. He shuffled to try and hold you.

"Don't worry," he murmured, his lips pressed to the top of your head. "I'll keep us safe."

How he would do that he had no idea, but he was assured he would sooner walk into the ocean than leave you defenseless.

Both of you fell asleep, leant against each other until someone knocked Ahk's supporting hand with their foot, collapsing your fragile tower. Ahk looked up in a blunder, recognizing Khawa above him holding a torch.

"What is –" you mumbled as you sat up, before being interrupted.

"I am to question all of you," she said, looking to each of her counterparts, and then to you.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Ahk sighed. "This is going to take forever. The desert isn't exactly a safe place to hold a murder investigation."

"I am fully aware of that, Aganu," she said sternly. "What would you do?"

He had no reply, which was in itself its' own answer. He shrunk into himself and crossed his arms, relenting to Khawa, who nodded her head curtly before beginning with Eshai.

Each interview took hours, leaving the whole of the caravan cooped up, cramped, and irritable. Rumors spread easily beneath the white tent, even into the next morning. Khawa only managed to get through three people by sunrise, leaving you and Ahk to scuff the dirt floor, Ahk braiding short, curled strands of your hair, and you petting your cat curled up after a long night of wandering. Almost all the mud from the dead sea was gone by now, but it still left traces of red in the locks.

Shirat had been plucking her lute for the past couple hours, though there was no melody or rhythm to the notes, and she played very quietly so as to not draw attention. Eshai didn't have that same aptitude, and paced for the hours following his interrogation. Similarly, Makko couldn't stop talking, spouting theories and worries without thought.

"Vhat do you think he will do to whoever did zis?" He asked in a quiet voice, broken by his relentlessly bouncing leg.

"I don't know, Makko," Ahk said, the same thing he said for the last six questions.

"Maybe.. he vill cast zem into the desert?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe he vill just kill zem," he shrugged.

"Well... where does he come from?" Ahk asked, his hands falling from your hair as he focused onto Makko.

"I don't think he ever said," Makko said, pulling at his lip with tense fingers. "He might have said zat he was on the Euphrates, but I do not know for surely."

"That's mostly Babylonian, isn't it?"

Makko shrugged, his eyes falling to the ground.

"They're eye for an eye types," Ahk said quietly.

"... I hope so," Makko mumbled, earning a surprised look from Ahk. He quickly explained himself with, "I do not trust those who can take a life."

"I don't blame you," he said as he returned to your hair, continuing with the small, half-done braid hanging near your ear.

Once his arms tired of holding up his hands, he dropped them into your lap, shifting to wrap himself around your torso from the back. He rested his chin on your shoulder, taking in your scent deeply till he leant on your cheek.

"Be needing something?" You asked with a halfhearted chuckle.

"No," he sighed, enjoying how wholly he could wrap around you, hiding you from sight. "Just a little tired."

"You did sleep," you said.

"A little," he said with a small nod. "Not going to sleep for a while after this."

"Oh. You will still help me to get sleep, yes?" You asked, twisting to try and face him, only to bump your nose with his and turn rapidly away in embarrassment.

"Yeah," he mumbled, slowly resting his chin back on your shoulder as you tried to breathe. "Of course."

Khawa returned with the last of her own people, her attention then turning to Ahk, who was still wrapped around you and dozing uneasily. You nudged him after noticing her look.

"Your turn, Egyptian," she said, turning to leave, leading him to a corner of the abandoned edges of camp, where no one could hear them speak.

He gulped through a tight throat as he sat down on a boulder, his knees pressed tight together and his hands intertwined neatly in his lap. Khawa spared him little mercy, sitting down across from him with a seething look, her glare burning through his consciousness. He hadn't done anything––at least not to his knowledge––but she already had him sweating bullets.

"How had you met this group?" She began with, never blinking even once while Ahk tried to stutter out an answer.

"Batnoam, um.. he and Yogi were talking in one of the shops at Jericho, and, uh... they found out we were going the same direction, so Batnoam introduced us to his uncle," he said, fidgeting with the growing tail end of his hair.

"And how did you meet Yogi?"

"In Egypt," he said with a nod. "My friend introduced us, they worked at the school I attended."

"Why are you travelling through the desert?"

"We're trying to find Yogi's home. They weren't... they aren't safe in Egypt. Yogi thinks Harappa will be better for them," he answered quietly.

"Why is it not safe in Egypt for them?"

"I'm... honestly.." he trailed off as he tried to recall what exactly had spurred the escape on, as there were several occurrences leading up to the decision. "Yogi kept trying to learn what the priests were teaching me and some of the other noble's children, and the soldiers didn't like that, so... I, um, I found them locked beneath the palace."

"Because they were trying to... learn?" She asked with an odd look.

"I know," he said, sighing. "I never claimed Egypt had great ideas when it comes to immigrants and the poor."

"No one really does," she said quietly.

A moment of silence passed before the questions resumed, continuing into the late morning when Khawa finally returned Ahk to the tent. The walk back was equally as silent, Ahk's hands curled into anxious fists even as he sat back down next to you, calming only with your touch on his thigh.

"Are you good?" You asked, your eyes flickering all over his body as though you were searching him for wounds.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, looking away.

"Yogi," a quiet voice said from above, nudging you on the leg. You neck craned up to Khawa. "I need to ask you questions, too."

"Oh," you said, glancing around before picking Sephys carefully off of your lap, and placing her in Ahk's.

Khawa offered you her hand, pulling you up when you took it. You cleared your breath, brushed your clothes of dust and hair, and followed Khawa out of the tent, glancing back to Ahk with a tented brow tight with anxiousness. He had to bite his cheek to avoid following after that look.

She asked you the same questions––why you were there, how you'd come across the troupe, and how you met your companion. You answered to the fullest extent till Khawa leaned in, her tone sobering further as distant conversation muttered in the wind.

"Have you met Aganu's family?" She asked.

"No," you said. "He has not seen my family, too."

She stared at you, seemingly gauging your expression.

"Is he... violent?"

"Not as I have seen," you said, shaking your head.

"And his friends? Have you met them?"

"Yes, they are... full of money, but good people," you said.

Another moment of silence passed before she relented with, "alright. We can go now."

When you returned, you sat back down next to Ahk, earning his attentive worry.

"Did she rattle you?" He asked, scanning you much like you'd scanned him when he came back.

"No, I am good," you chuckled, gently pushing away his tight-gripped hands.

"What did she ask you?"

"Please do not talk about your interviews with each other," Khawa said in a stern but low voice, looking up from the wooden pipe in her hands.

"Sorry," you said instinctively.

"What've you got there?" Ahk asked, squinting as he tried to make out the pipe's intricate details marking up and down the pipe.

"Azullu," she said, pinching more of an herb from an antelope-skin bag, and stuffing it into the bowl end of the pipe, where a crescent moon was carved.

"What is it?" You asked as Ahk shuffled forward on his knees.

He peeked into the small, drawstring bag, to where ground leaves had been dried and turned into a green herb. With a whiff, he easily recalled the scent.

"Hey, we've had this before," he said, nudging you without looking away from the bag.

"We have?"

"It does have many names," Khawa said, shrugging.

"Shemshemet, the, uh..."

"Ohh, the shemet!" You said with the biggest grin he'd seen all night and day.

"They say it is bhang, in Harappa," Makko informed you, glancing briefly away from his embroidery; a long, white sheet half in his lap and half in Eshai's, the both of them sewing tiny beads of faience to the silk fabric.

"You know about my home?" You asked, your excitement giving way for shock (albeit still excited shock). You were practically beaming, leaning closer to Makko who sat across from you in the small circle.

"A little," he said with a nod. "I learned about it while.. working in a library."

"You worked in a library?" Ahk asked.

"Well –"

"You can read, then?" You asked, your eyes growing wider as you expectantly awaited his answer.

"A little," he said again, this time more subdued.

"Alright, I would like some help starting a fire," Khawa stated suddenly as she stood, her pipe in hand.

"Why?" Caifas asked in almost a whine.

"It's already so hot," Eshai added quietly in the Akkadian language.

"Fine. You want to wait to have this?" She gestured to the pipe. "Then you can wait until the night."

She sat back down, her words bringing a dead stop to the conversation held in the circle of seven. In the middle of the silence Ahk's heart began to pound, overflowing with a sudden worry considering the sanity of Batnoam's methods. Food had been his main concern, but now that he thought of it, no one there had any access to water. At all. He dug his uncut nails into his palm, digging in deeper than he'd ever been able to with polished and clean nails.

"How long do you think Batnoam will keep us here?" He asked softly, staring at the ground and addressing no one in particular.

"I do not know," Khawa said in a strained voice.

"We are in a drought, aren't we? We probably aren't going to get more water until we reach Terqa," Ahk said with strained hands.

"I do not think Batnoam cares," you murmured, looking behind you.

Ahk followed your gaze to the distant form of Batnoam, towering over the tiny bushes growing in the somewhat moist area of the desert. He was searching through the tents and tarps, tearing apart beds and campfires in search of something, something which he could apparently not find.

"You are right," you said to him quietly. "We do need to travel alone."

"No, we just need to travel in smaller groups," he said, hoping his words would be of some comfort to you.

You didn't verbally respond, but you leant your head on his shoulder and sighed deeply. He revelled in that touch.

The morning passed into noon and into night, at which time Ahk realized he'd only taken two swallows of water throughout the whole day. His tongue could barely move from the roof of his mouth and he was rubbing his eyes incessantly, partially from the wind that blew burning sand into them, and partially because they were already dry to begin with. Batnoam made no progress, but the people who sat beneath his sword were growing antsy.

Perhaps the only good part of the day finally progressing into the evening was that the seven of them now had a good excuse to light a fire. One could not see the stars sitting beneath a tent, so with Batnoam's permission you went to gather bits of brush and sticks, bringing them back to Khawa's seat.

Once she was satisfied she began to light the fire, muttering incantations to herself in languages neither of you could understand. Instead of asking, you pulled Ahk back down to his own seat, and enjoyed the slow process of creating and taming fire. He moved to find Batnoam, but you pulled him down before he could stand and intertwined your hand with his. That kept him unbreakably near to you.

The fire easily burnt through bits of leaves and soft fibers, glowing just long enough to light the larger parts of wood on fire, as well. Soon the campfire was crackling away, lighting up the darkened tent and allowing Khawa to finally pull the packed pipe out from underneath her robes.

She stuck a thin stick in the fire, lighting the tip of it and bringing it into the bowl. By breathing in from the mouthpiece she inhaled the smoke, allowing it to pour out from her nose and mouth before she drew in again, assuring it would stay alight. Khawa then passed it to Eshai, who was sitting beside her.

Smoke from both the pipe and the campfire began to drift to the ceiling of the tent, pooling in the highest spot till a grey haze blurred out the more distant parties. The smell reached each corner, causing more than a few people to look their way, but none dared to say anything.

Shemshemet––or azullu, as Khawa called it––did wonders for relaxing the body in both physical and mental aspects. His grandfather had used it for the poisoning of the limbs, when his joints began to ache and creak with weary use. Now he called upon its' psychic properties, breathing in deep in hopes of an even deeper cleansing, ridding him of the less useful anxiety. You did the same, inhaling a massive cloud of smoke that billowed out from between your darkened lips.

"Wow," he said involuntarily after the last puffs of smoke left you. You giggled, your hand coming up to cover your mouth that remnants of the herb still left.

"Thank you," you said with a bow of your head in his direction that also left him laughing despite himself.

While desert days could roast an egg on a rock, the evenings were almost pleasant, chilled only by winds that called for yet more campfires to be started. Carpets, bags, and blankets were stuffed away in the corners of the open, white tent, making room for warmth that soon filled up the camp. Batnoam was still nowhere to be seen and had left Bahiti, a woman from Egypt, to survey the people.

No meat was cooked. No searing, no scents, only the burning bowl of shemshemet still drifting skyward. Everyone had unanimously, as well as silently, agreed that tonight would be a night of very little in hopes of preserving their food for the prolonged stay in the Shamiyah desert.

If Ahk stood, which apparently counted as 'suspicious' to Bahiti, he could find the edge of the land beyond the shallow dip in the dunes, towards distant mountains, still short but ragged with red rock. In the night it was little less than a silhouette, a darkened outline beneath the glowing horizon leading up into ink-black night. He had never been further from the Nile, and despite the less-than-suitable circumstances, he still enjoyed the mystery of a land he'd only ever heard about in his caretaker's stories as a child.

Since the bowl, and thus the herb, was shared, passed around by seven people, Ahkmen felt less of the effects than usual. No mind-blowing high or giddy behavior, but instead a vague calmness that helped compress the occurences of the last day and a half.

Abdhamon was dead. His nephew, Batnoam, had learned a fair amount from him, but Ahk correctly surmised he didn't know the desert quite as well as the elder did. That meant many of the stops along the way, many of the oasises, would be lost to the caravan, and water would be more scarce.

"Where do you zink he is?" Makko asked in a whisper, subtly looking out past Ahk's head.

"Batnoam?"

Makko nodded.

"I think he's searching our belongings," Ahk said, turning 180 to look as well before Makko reached panicked hands forward and pulled him back into place.

"Do not let him see you," he said with wide eyes.

"Calm down," Ahk chuckled. "He won't hurt us for no reason."

"He did threaten us with a sword," Khawa added quietly, a pointed argument that left both Ahkmen and Makko silent.

Ahk, who didn't have many hobbies outside studying astronomy and reading, managed to fit seventeen braids into your hair without you noticing. Tiny, woven strands now littered your head, a mark of someone who cares about you, though you wouldn't see them, at least not for a long while now.

You kept yourself busy for a while––helping Makko, Eshai, and Khawa embroider the silk cloth, or working on mending your own tattered clothes, but you soon tired of sewing. For the last hour you'd been doing nothing but playing with Sephys, and even she was growing sick of you.

"Yogasundari," he murmured, tapping your arm. You immediately turned to him. "Come lie down with me."

"You are going to sleep?" You asked, but still followed him as he lay on his back, trailing as though you were tied to him.

"No, I want to show you something."

As promised, Ahk couldn't quite get tired what with all the ruckus, and since the fires were going on their last embers, the sky would be clearer now than any other time.

Waiting.

A day and a half of waiting, and at last you were on your backs next to each other, staring up at the same stars. His shoulder brushed yours, but your hands remained folded neatly on your chest.

"Did you know the pyramids are the stars?" He asked, tilting his head to you.

".. how?" You asked in a soft, mystified voice.

"The entrance to Osiris' palace lies in the brightest star," he said as he raised his arm, pointing to Sirius. "Sirius, and then Orion."

"They are.. together?"

"Well the pyramids, the three large ones that I took you by, they are matching to the belt of Orion, and the great Sphynx of the city matches the great Lion of the sky," he said, shifting to point to the lion's constellation. "That is where the sun rises in the aftermath of creation."

"In the death?"

He nodded.

"And the belt of stars," he gestured to the ring of white stardust painting the middle of the sky, "is the Nile, on earth. With the living."

"So in death... the river is the stars," you said, turning from the stars to him.

"A little, yes," he chuckled, adoring the humored gleam in your eye.

"And the Pharaoh is the stars," you said.

"Yes, when Pharaohs die, they become the stars. Particularly over..." he scanned the sky for a moment, "there."

A cluster of bright stars remained hidden near the horizon.

"Ah," you whispered, nodding. "I am happy to see you are doing good with your... your promise."

"Which one?" He asked, recalling what you were talking about only after he'd asked.

"You will tell me what you know, remember?" You said as you met his eye expectantly. "I will give you all the beer you want."

"Don't worry about that," he said, sitting up with a tone of seriousness in his movements. "You don't need to make me anything or give me anything. I came with you willingly and I will share with you willingly."

You giggled, closing your eyes and turning away with reddened cheeks. Your knees propped up, hands coming to fall beside your head, even as you shook your head to yourself.

"What?" He asked with a grin.

"You will share with me?" You asked through your giggles.

"Everything," he answered.

"Everything?" You repeated, your brows quirking up.

You shot up, reaching a lightning-fast hand forward and snatching the scarf off his head. He let out a small, subdued shout from the suddenness of it.

"I do look good?" You asked, situating the scarf over your already existing hat, as well as over all the braids Ahk had managed to fit into your hair.

"Wonderful, as always," he chuckled.

"Then I will have your shirt too," you said, and before he could process what you said you were tugging at his shirt, undoing the tassels and buttons and practically ripping it off his body.

"Hey!" He said indignantly, his mouth falling open as he stared at you confused.

Somehow, you managed to fit his shirt over your clothes as well, now wearing double-hats and double-shirts while Ahk only had his pants and sandals left.

"Meanie," he said, plucking the scarf off your head and wrapping it around his bare waist.

"Here, you need this, for your head," you said, unable to stop giggles from pouring out of you as you set his shirt over his head. He laughed, his vision mostly blocked by the large piece of fabric.

"Mother Goddess," Makko interrupted, turning to both of you with a very strange look on his face. "How long have you two been married?"

"Honeymoon time," Caifas said quietly.

"Honey-what?" You asked, at the same time Ahk said –

"We're not married," said Ahkmen far too quickly. His eyes darted to you and back to the group at large.

Everyone fell silent as they gave him odd stares.

"What??" He asked again, and they dropped it.

"What is honeymoon?" You whispered, tugging at his arm.

"Nothing. Phase of moon," he mumbled.

Footsteps grinding against rock and brush interrupted the murmurs of conversation passing around the tent. Ahk turned to see Batnoam, black crescents beneath his eyes and a dagger in his hand as he approached the caravan. He pulled you into him, shielding you away as Batnoam passed by, headed towards the center to address those who stared at him.

"Nassor?" He called; the name of the Egyptian soldier.

Ahk could physically feel his will shrinking as Nassor stood, his tall, dark form sticking out amongst the light colored robes of his group. He stepped forward without flinching.

"You tossed this away," Batnoam said, practically growling the words as he pointed the bloodstained dagger directly at Nassor's neck. The man still didn't flinch. "I know you were carrying it while we were travelling. The hilt is quite recognizable."

"You have no proof," Nassor stated flatly, crossing his arms.

"We're a thousand spans from any government, Nassor," he spat. "I don't need evidence to do in with you."

"You w-"

Nassor's word stopped with the gushing of blood, his own dagger thrust into his throat. You gasped sharply, backing up into Ahk as you once more covered your mouth, wide eyes burning with fear.

With a harsh pull, Batnoam leased the blade from Nassor's neck, allowing the soon-to-be corpse to fall to his knees. Shouts and claims of insanity began to come from the crowd, something Ahk should've expected sooner than he did.

"Quiet! All of you," he barked above the noise, pointing the dagger covered in two men's blood to the crowd, causing drops of it to fall upon them. "Bahiti says there's another. Someone who told Nassor what to do."

Ahk glanced to those surrounding him both near and far, a sudden agitation building in his veins.

He's going insane, he thought, his eyes darkening.

"That person, or persons, is going to step forward," he met each listener's eye, "or I'm going to start killing till I find the right one."

You gave Ahk a look that screamed, 'what the fuck'.

"You can't do that!" Someone cried, but was quickly hushed by a hand over their mouth. Others voiced such things in wavering tones.

Batnoam reached into the crowd, dragging out one of the men from Cyprus by his hair. Ahkmen hadn't met the man before, but he had a short stature, long hair, and was clawing at Batnoam's hands in an attempt to release them. His woman companion leased a cry of his name; Aegeus. At the sight of this you dug into your bag, searching frantically for some sort of potion that would be of use in such a situation.

Before you could find anything befitting, Makko suddenly shot up from his spot beside Ahk, yelling something he couldn't process till the whole of the tent turned dead silent.

"It's me," he'd said, a proclamation both you and Ahk had a visceral reaction to.

"What?" Ahk said astounded.

"I'm –" his voice cracked, "I did not kill anyone, but I'm probably ze reason your uncle is dead."

Batnoam, who was still holding the man by his hair with a knife to his throat, paused to listen with dead eyes. Attention fell to Makko, who began to shake with the many eyes pointed towards him.

"My father's wife hired men to do away vith me. I had to leave my home, but I am sure those hunters would chase me even here," he said, growing quieter as he finished.

"Why has she done that?" You asked.

"Mostly to legitimize her son's claim to the throne," he mumbled.

"The throne?" Batnoam repeated, seemingly in the same state of disbelief and shock as everyone else. He released the man, who scrambled back to his wife.

Ahkmen, sensing an opportunity, decided to look out across the faces. Most had open mouths, others wide eyes, but all paying ardent attention, except two men sitting close to each other, who only looked up sparingly to glare at Makko.

"It's them," he said suddenly, interrupting Makko's next sentence as he pointed a finger to the two men. He stood and continued with, "they're the only ones not surprised by what you're saying."

All eyes turned to the two men, one of which began to look rather frightened, while the other turned to anger.

"Just because we're not paying attention doesn't mean we know what you're talking about," one of them said with a glare.

"It's hardly evidence," the other said.

"Haven't we been over this?" Ahk asked, empowered for the first time in days to tease. He tapped his chin as though he was thinking it over. "Oh, right. We're weeks away from civilization. No law requires proper evidence... it's only what we know."

One of the stranger's faces paled, while the other hardened, glaring at Ahkmen.

Batnoam motioned to Aegeus––the short, stocky man with the terrified wife––who steeled his expression, grabbed the two men, and threw them forward to land in front of Batnoam, their faces scratched and scuffed with dust. Stress still remained knotted into his features, shifty eyes switching between the members of his own group and Batnoam.

"How did you say you were from? How you got here?" Batnoam demanded, now pointing the blade to the men knelt before him.

"Theodore said he was from mainland Greece," Aegeus answered for him, his voice broken and cracking. "But Mopsus travelled recently from the Persian Gulf. Elam, I believe."

"Elam, they have made much grief with Assyrians," Batnoam said, eyes flickering between the two men. "Someone must've payed you off, and you killed my uncle to cover your tracks, just in case anyone knew who Makko is."

He leaned in, pressing the dagger up against Mopsus' neck, drawing a thin sliver of crimson blood.

"I live for killing filth like you," he spat.

With that, he shot the blade in a straight line, slicing open his throat. Mopsus let out garbled sounds as bubbling blood poured from him, filled his mouth so as to make him choke on his own lifeline. Ahk curled you into his chest, hiding your face from view as he fell from his knees, thumping onto the carpet floor. He could feel you flinch at each sound, and the panicked breathing that followed.

Another body thumped to the ground before Batnoam stood, straightening his back as he gazed down upon the mangled bodies still bleeding out onto the carpets.

"Alright," he breathed out, tossing the dagger to the side. "Let's get the hell out of this desert."

[sleepingcrisis]

Been awhile since I have posted any writing on here. Well anything substantial. So... take some Renga content? Luca made me in the mood for it 🤚🙄

I started writing this and it is nothing like Luca... anyway enjoy!

*****

Great. Fucking great. Langa has found someone after all these years that he is pretty sure he loves and then this bullshit happens? God forbid he love Reki in peace, that would be too much. Instead he sits, tied in rope, with his back against the edge of a ship.

"Awake at last my darling!" A voice called. A voice filled with theatrics and enthusiasm that Langa just knows can't be genuine. No one has this much enthusiasm all the time... okay maybe Reki does, but outside of that? No one.

A tall man approached him. A man with a ruffled shirt and — is that a corset? His boots have a slight heal and his dark blue hair is wild and long. He is well shaven which is not common among — Langa glanced around the ship — pirates. He has been kidnapped by pirates. He looked back over to the man who has two companions with him who stand out among the crew members.

One of them is clearly a catfolk in his humanoid form. Black hair and ears that twitched along with a tail that snapped back and forth quite rapidly. He looked bored, but he also had a quiver of arrows at his side and a bow that he was in the process of unstringing. He isn't listening to whatever it is the man in front of him is spouting off about and, frankly, Langa isn't listening either.

The other man seemed — not bored — neutral and Langa isn't quite sure what he is. Above his waist is human enough with only small patches of scales on his shoulders and neck. Below his waist? A long thick black snake tail that takes up far too much space. His green eyes are that of slits and Langa is nearly sure that if he opened his mouth to speak he might have a split tongue or maybe even fangs with venom. He isn't sure though because most lizardfolk don't look like this.

"Little prince you aren't listening to me," the blue haired male demanded his attention once more.

Originally Langa had thought he was human, but upon closer inspection (inspection which occurs when his head is tilted up by his chin and he is forced to look into ruby eyes) that isn't true.

Langa isn't quite sure what he is either, but his red eyes are practically glowing and he has fangs. Perhaps he is currently in his human form.

"Uhh... sorry?" Langa tried to offer an apologetic smile but then the man is opening his mouth in some sort of attempt to inspect it.

The man laughed before shaking his head and letting go of him, "You really are perfect. What else is there to expect from a prince? You'll do wonderfully. I can't wait. Call me Adam until then."

"Until what?" Langa asked.

"Oh you would have known if you were paying attention, perhaps I'll tell you again another time. We have quite the... intimate trip together ahead of us."

The man ran a finger along the tips of Langa’s pointy ears until Langa turned his head away. The light blue haired elf sighed softly. This trip sounded like it was going to be a long one. He just hoped Reki came and got him soon.

***

Reki hadn’t stopped his prolonged pacing and freaking out in over twenty minutes.

"I'm his guard! His knight, yet I let this happen—"

"Yeah and sitting around isn't going to help Reki."

"How are you being so casual about this? We need to go rescue him!"

"We don't even know where he went, he was taken. First of all we need to look for—"

Joe, the head guard at the castle, started as he nudged the door to the prince's chambers open only to see walls covered in singe marks that definitely weren't there before. Joe sighed softly as he scratched his head at the base of his horns. He is a demon of sorts, as he explained to Reki once "an incubus without the murder... well unless murder is required. Then there is murder.".

"...Clues," he finished his earlier thought and sighed softly.

"What is with the sigh? Do you think you know what happened?" Reki asked eagerly as he jumped into the room and his arms momentarily glowed as they transformed into wings. It happened when he got excited... or distracted... or just overly emotional in general. Basically he had a hard time with it, and hadn't yet mastered it. He was supposedly a harpy with red and orange feathers that covered his skin whenever he started to transform.

"Put the wings away Red. There is no mistaking that it was Adam who took him."

"Who is Adam?" Reki asked as he shook his arms until they turned back to their human form.

"Another demon I know."

"Is he a sex demon like you?" Reki asked.

"Hey! That is an over simplification! And no he isn't like me. We need to get going."

"Where are we going?"

"There is only one person who could possibly know how to find him and he isn't here."

Reki nodded and followed Joe out of the room and the two hurried off.

That is how they found themselves in the presence of Kaoru Sakurayashiki. A man with nine puffed out tails that matched the pink colour of his hair along with two pointy ears that twitched in agitation when he saw the two.

"Here for a meal Kojiro? Because if that is the case I'll burn you to a crisp where you stand. And don't tell me you have dragged him into this! He is far too young to be dealing with the likes of you."

"That isn't what this is Kaoru, I'm training him."

"What a great way to prey on him! I bet you like that he looks up to you. Honestly! You have the audacity to break my heart and then bring your newest sexual conquest—"

"It isn't like that!" Reki cut him off. His voice firm despite the unfamiliarity of the situation. He kept his arms from turning once more since that would be embaressing. Instead the sharp claws of his talons dug into the stone floor, surely leaving marks.

"We are looking for the prince and supposedly a demon named Adam took him," Reki countinued.

The fox man's gaze shifted to something unreadable as his tails (formerly straight up in anger) lowered themselves. He adjusted the haori that he wore over top his yukata, each white with gold embroidery.

"I see. I suppose you two need to be finding him?" Kaoru suggested.

"Yes, it is urgent," Reki whispered as he cast his gaze towards the ground.

"I'll aid you two, of course I expect whatever reward I am to be given to be doubled with having to deal with the presence of a demon," Kaoru decided before taking off to go get a bag.

Reki looked at Kojiro with confusion in his eyes. Despite his worry he can't help but wonder what happened between the two. Kojiro responded to his confusion with a shrug and an irritated look though so Reki doesn't question it.

Eventually Kaoru came back with a bag that he promptly handed off to Kojiro and instructs him to carry.

"We better get going, they might be halfway across the sea by now," Kaoru said.

"The sea?" Reki asked with more worry in his voice and small feathers forming on his arms and along his neck.

"Yeah. Adam is what you might call a pirate these days," Kaoru explained.

"How do you know that?" Kojiro asked as they headed out the door.

"I keep tabs on assholes that break my heart and it turns out that demons are especially good at it," Kaoru hissed. Reki was positive that wasn't exactly what he did, but neither he nor Kojiro pressed on the matter.

"Well you did fall in love with a couple of demons, don't know what you expected."

"Perhaps I expected you two to— no. I'm not doing this. Shut your mouth and keep walking."

Kojiro rolled his eyes but the three start walking regardless. Thankfully the Kingdom of Gelida is a port kingdom.

Unfortunately, Adam knew that as well. So when the boat is already gone by the time they get there no one should be surprise. That doesn't stop Reki’s heart from breaking.

[uwuyangin]

eavesdropping (bangchan x chubby! reader)

☆ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after accompanying chan in the studio on your day off, you overhear a conversation he has with the other members that isn’t as pleasant as you would like it to be. 

☆ 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 + 𝐚/𝐧: this is for a chubby series i am doing for all members, so definitely stick around for updates! this is for my plus size babies so enjoy! also cursing and sensitive topics of weight up ahead. 

——————————

Although it was a dream to become an idol and create music much like your boyfriend, you found it would be best to pursue a different career path. Being a foreigner was hard enough in South Korea, so you couldn’t find it in yourself to want to go through more stress. And with that, you kept up your studies and continued on with your major in a nearby university that was still in distance of seeing Chan whenever. 

His schedule definitely wasn’t the most flexible, so it was rare to find days in which you both had scheduled off. You always took advantage of any time you had alone, and today was one of those days. With a lazy grin, you bopped your head to the new beat that Chan had been creating, knowing he had a talent for producing. Chan couldn’t help but to laugh at your expression, pulling your chair closer to him so he could be as near to you as possible. 

“That’s really good, I’m excited to hear the finished product.” you spoke, setting the headphones down on the table. You couldn’t help but to notice the hands that were placed on top of your thicker thighs, the warmth radiating throughout your body immediately. 

“I’m glad you think so.” he murmured. His voice was soft and hushed, his eyes cast down at you in a loving way. 

“God, I missed you. I only have a few more things I need to do on this song and then we can leave for a little bit to go do something. I don’t want to be cooped up in here all day.” Chan said as he reached for the headphones you had placed down.

Your heart fluttered at that which caused a large smile to spread on your cheeks. “I’m so touched that you want to spend time with me.” you teased.

“Uh, duh, I want to spend every second with you.” he teased back, and laughed quickly after. Oh how you loved that cheeky laugh. 

“I’m going to grab a water, do you want one?” you offered while standing and heading to the door. Chan nodded, then proceeded to work on his laptop. Rolling your eyes playfully, you headed out of the room and to the kitchen to grab some bottles of water. 

Along the way, you spotted a familiar face and grinned. “Hey, Felix! How ya doing?” 

The younger boy smiled widely and waved, placing his phone back in his pocket. “I’m doing well, I haven’t seen you in awhile.”

You chuckled at that and continued on with some small talk, catching up on anything that happened within the last time you both saw each other. It always made you feel at ease knowing you had another person to talk to fluently, since you were average with speaking Korean. It was refreshing to say the least. After it had been a good five minutes or so, you decided it was time to head back. Chan would probably start looking for you knowing it shouldn’t take this long to get a drink. 

“I’ll catch you later!” 

Felix nodded and waved you off as you went back on your way. For the first time in awhile, a smile painted your lips. These past few weeks of university had felt like the worst weeks of your life. Tests were growing harder as the middle of the semester had approached, and today had been your only break from the constant studying. Chan always had the ability to make you calm, and it made you realize just how much you needed him in your life. 

As you neared his room, you could hear a couple of voices conversing in quieter tones. Growing closer, you could finally make up which voices they were which consisted of Changbin and Minho. Just as you were to enter, you came to a halt as your name popped up. 

“I saw (Y/N) earlier today, I didn’t know you two were still dating. I don’t know what you two have in common, it’s a little surprising,” chuckled Minho. You could hear the sound of a swat and you could only imagine it was Chan hitting Minho. 

“We actually have a lot in common, and I love (Y/N), why would we not be dating?” Chan stated, and Changbin could only hum in agreement. 

Minho sighed momentarily after. “I thought you liked athetlicism in a girl, someone to work out with? It just caught me off guard, I guess.” 

Your face scrunched up in discomfort, not knowing how to process this information. Is that really how Minho felt about your relationship? Not like his opinion really mattered, yet it still hurt especially because you always thought you two were friends. What came next really caught you off guard, though.

“She may not be the fittest person, but I love her and her personality. There are days where I wish we could work out together but I don’t know how to bring that up to her without it being insensitive, you know? At first I was unsure about it but I’ve definitely gotten used to her shape.” 

“It sounds like you settled for her,” Minho spoke honestly. Changbin chimed in immediately after, disagreeing completely. “I think that’s a bit harsh.”

You hadn’t even taken into account the tears that were forming in your eyes. Those words were hitting you repeatedly in the chest, your breath being held in from fear of releasing a sob. You had always been sensitive to the topic of your weight, and the Korean beauty standards did not help. Every second that passed that you stood there became more and more overwhelming. Without thinking much of it, you quickly began walking to the entrance of the dorms, passing by Felix in the process.

“Whoa, where are you going so fast-”

The sound of the door slamming cut him off, and he stared blankly. What had caused you to storm off so quickly? Felix made his way to Chan’s room, seeing a few other members there. “Chan-hyung, why did (Y/N) leave so fast? Didn’t she just get here?”

Chan became alerted at the sound of this and saw that your bag was still on his sofa. You couldn’t go far without your things, at least that’s what he assumed. He cast a stare at Minho that resembled disappointment and huffed, grabbing your bag with him as he headed out the door. “I won’t be back for awhile, don’t wait up for me.” 

Guilt began to settle inside of Chan as he wasn’t stupid. You were bound to hear the conversation whether he wanted you to or not. Never would he ever want to make you feel so worthless, and he honestly felt like a piece of shit. You always expressed to him that you were uncomfortable in your body, and he would instantly fight you on it that you were beautiful the way you were. Why did he even say what he said? He felt like an idiot. He took the elevator down, cussing to himself as it took its dear sweet time going down. Once it reached the bottom and the doors opened, he spotted your body leaving the entrance of the building.

“(Y/N)!” he called out before speeding out the door. Chan picked up the pace and caught a hold of your arm, stepping in front of you so you were blocked in from his body. 

“Hey, baby, hey. What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked. His arms went to engulf you in a hug but you stood still, staring at the ground to avoid his gaze.

“I think you know what happened. . . “ you mumbled out. 

Chan’s hands reached up to your face, brushing your hair out of your face gently. He could see the tears that were elegantly falling down your cheeks. You were so broken, he could see it very clearly in the way you were ignoring him. It honestly broke his heart at the sight. 

“Hey, what I said in there- I do love you, I love you so much. I don’t care what size you are. I’m being fully honest. And who cares what Minho thinks, I don’t and you shouldn’t either.” 

You grew a little irritated at that statement, glaring at the ground as you continued to avoid his eyes. “And what about working out with me? Have you ever even asked me if I wanted to work out with you? Or did you assume I couldn’t because I’m too big? Was I not what you originally wanted?” 

Chan frowned. “I’m sorry I never asked, I am in the wrong for that. But you’re everything I could ever want and need. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Baby, I’m sorry.” 

You nodded and leaned into his touch, your head bumping his chest. Chan took his chance and held onto you tightly despite receiving stares from the people on the street. His head reached down, placing innocent and tender kisses on your head. You knew deep down that Chan loved you, and sometimes he said stupid things. Who didn’t? What mattered most was his love for you, and you had to let it go. 

“Let’s go out and do something.” he suggested. “I feel bad and I want to treat you to something.”

 You smirked as you had a better idea in mind, biting your lip mischievously. You could remember that Chan’s room was the closest to the living area and kitchen, so you knew exactly what to do.

“Oh, I have a better idea.”

( one hour later )

“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, CAN YOU STOP FUCKING SO LOUDLY?! JEONGIN DOESN’T NEED THOSE IDEAS IN HIS HEAD-” Jisung cried out.

“Nope!” you and Chan recited together. Payback was a bitch.

[secret-engima]

hamelin-born

@secret-engima

Oscar likes green. It’s that simple. Yes, he does have a lot of fond memories linked to the color green, and yes, having everything be green means that any magic he choses to use has a good chance of being lost against the background, but - green’s his favorite color. It’s that simple. He’d probably honestly be a little amused at hearing all the frantic speculation about his reasons behind the color scheme.

...the fact that The Emerald City made appearances in the hometowns of what would grow to become Team JNPR is totally a coincidence. Right? Yes. A total coincidence.

*snicker* That is perfectly in character. Mercury probably sarcastically suggested that Oscar’s animated cane-weapon be given the name of ‘Short Term Memory’ or something along those lines. Oscar, true to himself, decided - hey, his cane was a living thing, it should have the chance to chose it’s own name!

That is why the cane proudly bears a name suspiciously similar to ‘Toto’.  

Whitley is cheering on Oscar’s efforts to make miniatured rainbows, and looking up all the information on color spectrum and prisms. He too wants to be able to, one day, see a grumpy person with a personalized raincloud above their head! A raincloud that will break into rainbows when they smile and/or laugh!  And they know just the perfect test subject...

Somewhere, Qrow feels a shiver run down his spine.

Oscar did not set out with the intention of kidnapping Whitley. It just - happened? And ooh, but I love seeing Whitley’s perspectives of his first meeting with Oscar. It’s just - Oscar accidentally come off as mysterious and colorful and almost fae; it’s amazing. And just - I’m suddenly struck by the parallels with another modern fairy tale - namely, Peter Pan and the Lost Boys. Oscar doesn’t sugarcoat the danger when he offers to take Whitley away; he lays out everything in his offer, and leaves it Whitley’s decision.

And Whitey - comes away.

He never regrets it.

A couple of random thoughts about the Schnee Family Debacle: Actually, Qrow might initially be afraid that the ‘Schnee Bingo’ is indirectly aimed at Ironwood. Because Winter is - relatively close in Ironwood’s confidence, I believe. And the whole ‘dragging the family’s sin’s into the light?’ It is going to impact her, one way or another. And everyone who is aware of ‘Schnee Bingo’ is going to wonder just what they did for the Ringmaster to respond like this - speculation goes anywhere from realistic to highly improbable.

The smart ones, upon uncovering the evidence of what the Schnee family does to their kids, think that that probably has something to do with it.

Me: @hamelin-born 

The reblog chain this is from is getting really long, so I decided to snag this and start a new post with it. XD

Oscar likes green! It means growing things and life! And yes it does hide his magic rather well :3

The fact that Emerald City has been all over the world and stopped in hometowns of SEVERAL main characters is total coincidence yes. :3 Just like how it is TOTAL coincidence that sometimes, a child or two is invited backstage to meet the tiny Ringmaster. >:333

(Pyrrha remembers that circus years later, how she was 14 and just starting to really get famous and realize how much fame sucked, and she didn’t have her parent’s permission to go to the Circus just outside Argus but she did anyway and it was a night she would never forget. A magical, beautiful night, and then the little Ringmaster, a boy younger than her, smiled and sang a song that brought tears to the eyes and somehow- it felt like he was looking right at her.) 

(She remembers being invited backstage by one of the acrobats, a cocky boy her age with silver hair, and at first she thought they were doing it because she was “Pyrrha Nikos” but- they never mentioned it. They never even asked her name. They just led her backstage to the tiny Ringmaster in his top hat and cane and workshop of wonders. He smiled at her and asked her name. She blinked and cautiously asked if he didn’t know it already. The boy twirled his cane and seemed a little too old for his childish appearance as he said “How could I? We’ve never met before. Though,” his smile had gone a little ... something at the edges, sad or wild or maybe even fae like her grandmother’s old stories, “I may have met your shadow along my roads, and for that I suppose I owe you thanks.”)

(“...Thanks? To me?” She asks, and the boy hums as he starts performing magic tricks right there, just for her, reappearing and disappearing of various trinkets and tools. Yes, he tells her, and then he pulls out a beautiful little necklace, a slender gold chain with a glimmering stone in the shape of a juniper tree, he offers it to her, and she wonders if it’s her imagination that the stone tree feels warm and alive on her palm, you don’t remember, he hums gently, but you once told my best friend that you believed in him, and it quite possibly saved his life. He never told me your name, but he told me about the Argus girl with red hair and kind eyes, and I dare say you fit the description to a T.)

(The Ringmaster smiles at her and gestures at the little necklace, “Keep it, as a thank you. May it bring you good fortune and safe passage, no matter where your destiny leads.” Not long after, she was led out by another of the acrobats, and it was only after she’d gotten home and was staring at the ceiling of her bedroom that she realized she was automatically wearing the necklace. And that the stone still felt warm.)

(If anyone bothers to ask Pyrrha Nikos after that if she believed in magic, she will touch the pendant of a tree that she always wears around her neck and say yes. Magic is real. And so are little fairy boys with kind green eyes.)

(Annnnd now I wanna do some drabbles of the main cast meeting the Emerald City circus and having encounters with the mysterious little Ringmaster XD)

Mercury so suggests “short-term memory” but Oscar solemnly says the cane should have a say. It picks the name “Total Remembrance” and Mercury laughs his head off while Neo gleefully calls the cane a sarcastic little twig. They shorten the name to “Toto” for Oscar’s sanity.

Whitley is a glee the day they get the spell to WORK. Now- to find their first test subject. Emerald: I’LL GO LEAD HIM HERE *flies off as a gremlin magpie*

Oscar doesn’t know it, but he comes off as a little bit fae (or a lot fae) to a LOT of people. He can’t help it, with his connection to magic and his future memories and the way he acts and dresses he just- feels like a storybook wizard or fairy boy stepped out of the pages. And gosh, Oscar is totally like Peter Pan in his kidnapping of Whitley. XD Just- he offers adventure and danger and love and FAMILY. Come away with me? whispers his magic and his outstretched hand, and Whitley is far from the only person to have taken it over the years (look at his time-traveling crew), and he never regrets it.

Oh gosh I didn’t think of that. Qrow WOULD possibly think this was a jab at Ironwood, but ... not necessarily because of Winter? Depending on when this happens she might only be newly graduated. No wait the hammer fall happens in canon, so yeah there is the Winter connection, but ALSO, in canon Ironwood is implied to be an old, estranged friend of the family, and further, as a Council member, he and Jaques have to deal with each other on a professional level. Taking down the Schnees could be seen as a personal jab through Winter yes, but also as a threat, that if they can take out the Schnees, who are roughly equal Ironwood’s status and known “friends” (for a loose definition of the word) of the General, then what can they do to Ironwood directly?

The smart criminals look at the confidants of their Ringmaster, who are mostly kids, and a few of them know that the Ringmaster looks like a child himself and they ... well. Put some pieces together.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Bits & Pieces, Themes & Evidence

Morning Everyone! So, below are just a bunch of bits and pieces that me, my fellow theorists and/or others in the fandom have come up. They don’t really fit into one, cohesive theory, but they’re most about or have come out of 10x18. I keep joking that this is the episode that just keeps on giving. We’re STILL talking about it and figuring things out about it.

Leah as a Hallucination/Daryl’s PTSD:

It’s been suggested that in 10x18, Dog never actually left Daryl. The episode is cut in a way to suggest that Daryl went long periods without seeing Dog (which is symbolic, of course) but maybe that’s not true and Dog was always there. Not only is that super interesting, but it works with one of my first observations. When I first watched the episode, I thought that the second time he sees Dog, first time as a grown dog and not a pup, and meets Leah, he didn't seem surprised to see Dog. So, I thought maybe he'd seen Dog a lot by then. I changed my mind for the sake of the symbolism. If it represents Grady, it makes more sense that Daryl simply recognized him as the pup me once met, but really had been separated from his for awhile. But I’m just saying this hallucination theory and the idea of Dog being there all along, just backs up my first impressions. That's all.

Also, weapon13whitefang left a long comment on my Tumblr post about Leah being a hallucination. It's really not so much about the show as about PTSD because they have some experience with it. I found it really interesting and enlightening, so it might interest some of you. You can read it HERE under the comments.

Why He Got Defensive at the Idea of Leah Leaving Him

A couple of my friends were talking about this, and this is just my contribution to the conversation. I think it's directly because Leah is predicated on his time with Beth. Even if he's not consciously aware of the delusion, some part of his UNconscious brain knows that Leah = Beth. And he knows Beth wouldn't have willingly left him. Not only because she said that, but because when she DID disappear, it wasn't her fault or her choice either time. So, when Carol says, "maybe she just left," Daryl's brain rails against that and he gets really defensive. And the interesting thing is that it's really not about him taking it personally or about his ego. It's about what he knows to be true of Beth. It's actually his brain being really logical in the midst of the delusion.

The Talk Dead to Me Podcast with Lynn Collins

I listened to the Talk Dead to me Podcast and this week’s guest was—no surprise—Lynn Collins. No huge TD smoking guns or anything, but it was interesting nonetheless. First of all, one of the really big C@ryl accounts was pretty much called out for being a toxic troll.

For anyone who doesn’t know, Lynn Collins gave a different interview a few days back (not this podcast; just a different one) in which she mentioned that Daryl and Carol’s relationship is very mother/son. Just after that, I won’t say the name but one of the most well known C@ryl accounts who can be REALLY nasty to…well…I was gonna say other shippers but pretty much anyone in the fandom who dares disagree with her, called Lynn an ageist for saying that Carol was mothering Daryl.

So, when the podcast began, Johnny O’Dell, who is the host, said that most TWD fans are super cool but a lot of the shippers can be toxic. He doesn't mention any particular ships in accordance to that (I actually think he briefly mentions all of them, saying people ship Daryl with Carol, Beth, Connie, and Rosita the most) but then after saying SOME of the shippers can be toxic, he talked about the post she made calling Lynn Collins ageist and said that was ridiculous and toxic and that we need to be cool to the actors. So, it's very obvious it was her comment he was talking about.

And of course, the ageist thing she accused Lynn Collins of is ridiculous. Not only is it true that Carol and Daryl’s relationship can be very mother/son at times, but saying so is not an insult to Carol. It’s a comment on the nature of the relationship, not on anyone’s actual age. Of course Carol isn’t old enough to be Daryl’s mom. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t mother him.

Then when Lynn Collins came onto the podcast, she addressed the ageist comment. She basically said everything I said above in more detail. She talked about how she was taken aback by being called that because, being a woman over 40 in Hollywood, she actually deals with a lot of ageism. And about how she's a mother, but became one a little later in life (in her thirties, rather than her twenties) and she was shocked that being called a mother can actually be derogatory to some people. It REALLY shouldn’t be. It’s really sad that people would take that as an insult. And then she went on to say that any character can be maternal, even if they're not the biological mother of the person they're mothering. She even said Daryl is somewhat paternal to Carol, teaching her how to gut a fish and everything.

Now, maybe this is neither here nor there when it comes to TD stuff. But one thing I thought was really interesting was that Lynn Collins said when she first started watching the show in S2 or S3, she was actually a Caryler. She wanted them together originally. She also said that eventually she realized that's not where they were going with it and kind of moved on. 

But the thing is, it just proves to me even more that she's being told to talk about it in a particular way. If everything she's said is true: that she was a raging fan and has been in the tags and talking about it a ton (and she says that on the podcast again; that she would get really excited about it and watch with friends and they would tell her to chill, lol) then why on earth would you talk about Daryl and Carol as a mother/son relationship...unless you were instructed to. 

She knows how passionate and sometimes toxic the Caryl ship is because she used to be one of them. So that just drove home for me that this isn't something she would just come up with on her own. And I did like what she said and how she said it. I honestly think she's trying to help the Carylers feel better about things, but also let them down gently. And of course there are some hardcore Carylers, like that account that said the ageist thing, that are just never going to give it up. Not much anyone can do about that.

The only other thing that struck me about the podcast, and also brought to mind stuff said on TTD, is that I'm more and more sure that everyone knows what's up with Leah's character. If she's an illusion (and I'll assume she is until we know different) I think everyone knows that. I think Lynn knows it, Norman, Melissa, all of them. 

For one thing, she said in this podcast that she didn't know if or when she'd be back. That was kind of a slip of the tongue, I think, because we already know she's signed on for S11, and she's announced it. And they're filming. So that's just untrue. And I thought that about Melissa on TTD, too. She said she didn't know what the Leah story line would be, they only told her a little bit back in Bonds when she had to say "her dog." But Melissa is a long time, mainstream cast member. I just don't believe that she doesn't know where the story is going. Again, just something they're instructed to say. But something else occurred to me, too.

When Melissa talked about the "her dog" line on TTD, she said, "there was a line that became a thing." From that, I have to assume she meant that people started to obsess about it online and wonder what the "her" was about. I honestly don't know if anyone other than TD picked out that line, but they might have. Either way, between this, and their reaction to the Caryler's "ageist" comment, it proves that they read the online theories. And of course we all already know that, but there's proof. That ageist comment was posted like 24 hours ago. And already they're addressing it and obviously don't like it and don't want people thinking the show or its actors are associated with that sort of thing.

Which is exactly why I think they HAVE to know about our Leah-is-a-hallucination theory. Even others outside our fandom suspect it. But the writers aren't addressing that. And don't get me wrong: I don't think they will. The Bonds line was literally MONTHS ago, and they waited until the Leah episode to address it. Because otherwise, they'd have to give spoilers and they weren't going to do that. But my point is, if the hallucination theory was not a thing (kind of like Rick being on TWB was not a thing and Lynn Collins being an ageist is not a thing and Beth not being BBQed at Terminus was not a thing) they would be addressing and discrediting it. They aren't. I’m definitely side-eyeing that.

Daryl’s Search for Rick/Beth’s Search for Liquor

This is something my fellow theorists and I were discussing back and forth for a few days. I’m not going to give you the entire conversation, but someone said something about Beth searching for liquor in Still and couldn’t that be a foreshadow? See—you’ll probably hear more about this in coming weeks—but we’ve been rewatching old episodes like Still, Alone, and others, with an eye toward what we’ve learned from S10 and especially the bonus episodes. And we’re realizing there’s a lot more foreshadowing in them than we ever realized before. Most of what’s in them we’ve looked at in terms of the Bethyl romance and of course Beth’s return, but I for one have never thought to go beyond that. Yeah, I REALLY should have.

So here’s the thing. We always talk about Daryl searching for people, but Beth was searching for liquor in that episode. I've never really thought to connect those two things. It either represents the same template of Daryl's search for her, or it might represent her searching for him. But then, those two templates may be one and the same. I need to think on it more and make more connections.

One thing it did make me think of, though, is that there's a theme about not accepting the first and only thing that comes your way, because there's something bigger, better, happier, more fulfilling down the road. So, Daryl didn't want Beth to drink the peach schnapps because that's a weak drink. He wanted her to have a REAL drink. And of course we've talked about this theme in terms of the peach schnapps before.

But we kind of see it everywhere, including in relationships. The small, short term relationships all follow this pattern. Maybe it’s not a terrible relationship, but it’s not true love, either. So they need to move on from it and find the more perfect relationship for them. The locations or homes do, too. So, in 4b, we saw each of the groups stop somewhere and try to stay. And it wasn't so much that they chose not to. More often than not, circumstances forced them to leave. But still. The theme is that it was better that they moved on so a bigger reunion could take place.

And on that note, Leah really still does fit the short-term relationship pattern. If the point was to always show short term relationships that weren't ideal and something better coming down the road, that's why they wanted to do something like this for Daryl. Beth is obviously going to be the much better, more fitting, more fulfilling relationship, where he belongs, etc. But I think they knew they couldn't do that without doing a disservice to Daryl's character. The only way to satisfy both criteria was to make her a hallucination. So the pattern is still there, but for him, it's not a real or literal relationship.

Find Me Theme

So, @wdway​ is the one who reminded me of this. Back in 9x05, Rick gets hurt and starts hallucinating right before blowing up the bridge and being taken to the CRM by Jadis, right? All on the same page? Well, in that episode, there’s a huge theme about Rick finding his family. In every hallucination, he tells the people he sees—Shane, Hershel, etc—that he’s looking for his family and needs to find them. Near the end, he hallucinates Michonne and the others being with him on the bridge, and Michonne tells him that they’re his family and he did find them. Then, just before he shoots the dynamite, he says, “I found them.”

And now we have this episode called “Find Me” where Daryl is obsessively searching for Rick, and there’s a ridiculous amount of Beth symbolism thrown in. Are we seeing the over-arching theme?

So, what does this mean? I don’t think I’ve really pinned it all down, yet. But I do think this is an over-arching theme for the entire show. I think in some ways, “home” and “family” are synonymous, because home is wherever your family is. It’s not a physical location.

But we started out with Rick looking for Carl and Lori. Then Merle went missing, and Daryl searched for him. Everyone searched for Sophia when she disappeared. And the list goes on and on. So it’s a big theme. I’ve always said Andy didn’t leave the show just to spend more time with his family. That’s a happy bonus, I’m sure. But this was always a planned part of the story. Now Michonne is actively looking for Rick, we see Daryl searching for his body. And the reason Beth symbolism is thrown in is because he searched for her, but they didn’t show us that and won’t because it would be spoilery. And Beth is alive, even if Daryl doesn’t know it. And yeah, I could go on and on. Just wanted to point out this theme and how important it is. Which leads me to….

The Three Spikes

The last thing I’ll mention is the grouping of the three spikes he sees both by the door and on the outside of the house that we’ve all been trying to interpret. I kind of had a breakthrough the other night. But the thing is, it’s not just a breakthrough on the three spikes.

It’s kind of a breakthrough on the ENTIRE rule of threes theme. It’s actually kind of epic.

So here’s how I came to this. I was going over the template in my head, yet again, that I mentioned is shown both here, in 6x03, and that will be in the spinoff. So let’s run through it. We’ll use this episode, 10x18, as the example. So, Daryl is searching for Rick, right? And Carol wants him to stop and come back with her to where Zeke and Henry are. Those are two possible choices for him. But there’s also a third: staying with Leah.

Similarly, in 6x03, Daryl goes searching for Rick, rather than staying with Sasha and Abraham. Those are the two things he’s trying to decide between, and he eventually goes back to Sashraham. 

Now, there is actually a third choice there. It’s just that Daryl doesn’t seriously consider it. The third choice is going back to Alexandria to help them. And this IS addressed in the episode because they talk about how they don’t know what happened, but some loud noise pulled half the herd off the road. We, the viewers, know it’s the Wolves, but Daryl, Sasha, and Abe really didn’t know what was going on there. And who is back in Alexandria, spear-heading the defensive against the wolves? Carol!

So you see what I mean. There are three possible choices there: find Rick, go with Carol, or stay with Sashraham. And I’ve said forever that Sashraham = Beth/Bethyl. And of course so does Leah. So the third choice is always the one that represents Beth.

Do you see where I’m going with this? If not, I’ll just tell you. This represents three different paths for Daryl. They’ll diverge at some point and he’ll have to make a choice about which one to take. And then I realized—duh!—they’re all actually represented for us here in this episode. Not only because of what I said above, but because Leah lays them out in her ultimatum. Where do you belong 1) out looking endlessly for your brother 2) back at the communities with your family (i.e. Carol) or 3) here with me.

So those are the three paths that he’ll have to choose between during the spinoff. That’s what the spikes are about, because they specifically dealt with his three choices in this episode. But that may even be the reason they used the rule of threes around Beth to begin with. She’s the third and correct path.

Want more proof this is a thing? @wdway​ sent me this pic after I first told her about it:

And guys, go back and watch this. When he gets to the crossroads, the camera pans around him, showing him being unsure about which path to take.

Then, while writing this up, I remembered that this did this in 6x03 as well:

On the left is Daryl on his bike, rejoining Sasha and Abraham who are coming down from the top.

Yeah, 3 paths. 3 spikes. Rule of 3s. Who’s excited for the spinoff? 🙋

Now, just one more thing not add to this I think you all will like. In re-watching 9x05, there’s the part where Rick hallucinates Shane, right? Well, part of their conversation there is about the “third man.” And I’ve talked about this before, but probably not nearly enough, because it’s more important than most of us give it credit for. Rick and Shane talk about when Rick was shot in 1x01 before the apocalypse hit. They say they thought there was only 2 men, but there was a third they didn’t know about and “that changed everything.”

I always saw that as perhaps a statement about Grady. Because they should have had three prisoners for the hostage exchange, where Dawn only had two (Carol and Beth). But after Rick killed Lambson, they only had two. If they’d had three, Dawn wouldn’t have been able to demand Noah back, because it would have been an even exchange. So the third man would have changed everything.

Another way to think about it is that, if the shot that hit Beth didn’t come from Dawn—and it REALLY didn’t, y’all) then there was another threat somewhere that they couldn’t see and didn’t know about. If they had, they might have been able to guard against it. See what I mean? I genuinely believe they used Rick’s arc in 1x01 as a jumping off point for planning what happened at Grady.

So, when I rewatched 9x05 and heard this conversation between Rick and Shane yet again, it made me think of the three spikes and Daryl’s 3 paths. So what if he only knows about the two paths he can take: look for Rick or go with Carol. But there’s a third path he’s not aware of, yet. But the third path changes everything. Because that’s where/how he’ll find Beth.

Eh, eh?

Okay, well, I’ve given you enough to chew on today. These are just some things we’ve been discussing from the episode that just keeps on giving. ;D Meanwhile, episode 19 will be airing in a few days, and it will be fabulous, too. Probably not quite as epic as 10x18, but still fabulous. ;D Thoughts?

[satoisms]

Given ig cos I have no idea what fandoms you are into dhsjkh

SEND ME A FANDOM

I’ll tell you:

The first character I first fell in love with: mafuyu. instant love. and i've loved his precious floof son for over 2 years now. The character I never expected to love as much as I do now: honestly??? kasai. like i was meh on her but i do enjoy her character and it lowkey does annoy me how ppl still focus on chapter 6 but ignore chapters 7 and 12 and were like what??? at chapter 43 now??? come on. The character everyone else loves that I don’t: i thoroughly find the entire cast of given interesting and like each one to a certain degree. so for each cast member i do have a bit of love but if i were to name one i don't feel as much for is... yuki. and like i find the guy super hecking interesting and his importance to mafuyu's life, but there's just so little info on the guy that makes it difficult to know what he was really like. all we know that's concise is he was the centre of the childhood friend group, he was mafuyu's boyfriend and first friend, he and mafuyu were hella codependent, at a point he spent all his free time with the band and doing jobs so had zero time for mafuyu, and ofc he isn't around anymore. i want to know more abt him but most of what we've gotten is from either the rumours from jr high or hiiragi and shizu's pov and both had polarizing views of him. the best take we could get is from mafuyu but he hadn't opened up about him much at all so henceforth he's a mystery. i'm intrigued but the combination of lack of proper info on him and his fanbase being highkey really hecking toxic i just feel wary. The character I love that everyone else hates: kasai. please can we move past her telling ritsuka abt the rumours about yuki and idk look at her apologizing and even being the reason ritsuka went to visit mafuyu while sick instead? like she's the one who suggested it. The character I used to love but don’t any longer: uhhhh i like every character. i guess maybe... my favour for shizu has kinda faltered a tad bc of current events. though i also feel utmost concern for him bc he just seems like he's not in a good or healthy headspace rn and i worry. plus the guy's one of the youngest of the cast so he has room to grow too. The character I would totally smooch: i would smooch p much the entire cast but most importantly i would smooch the living daylights out of kedama. best floofer. deserves more love honestly. The character I’d want to be like: stopping to look at the cast uhhh... probably a die between the uenoyama siblings. ritsuka is honestly such a good guy who looks out for everyone and wears his heart on his sleeve and even helps out those who aren't that nice to him. yayoi for her empathy and honestly??? ability to just be open abt feelings and stuff. i'm shy as heck let me not be shy pls. The character I’d slap: in a loving way i'd slap ritsuka to tell him it's okay to let others know he's hurting and to stop overworking himself. the poor guy is wasting away bc he's doing all-nighters and is blaming himself for everything like pls boy stop. it's not your fault. A pairing that I love: ritsumafu is my brainrot haha. i love the pairing so much why else have they been my artistic muse as of late? i also love the other canon pairs in given and also have a soft spot for yayoi and aki haha. A pairing that I despise: any pairing that has ritsuka paired with anyone that isn't mafuyu and similarly any pairing that puts mafuyu with anyone that isn't yuki or ritsuka. i just... the thought of that makes me uncomfortable. it's not for me.

[the-currian]

Finally emptied my askbox!

Well, to be more accurate, I finished all my requests. The askbox ate the original ask, so shoutout to the anon who wanted Hisoka angst!

“I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Hisoka x Reader

It was insidious.

At first your curiosity was small. Harmless. When you heard the up-and-coming Mankai Company was having an act-off against the famed God Troupe, you knew that you had to catch both their performances. God Troupe’s performance was flashy and impactful as always, and while the leads of Mankai had a subtle flair of their own, it was one of their supporting cast members that truly caught your eye. You were captivated by his unique stage presence. He appeared confident and secure in his acting but underneath it all you could sense a hint of sadness that drew you in further.

To your shock and utter delight, he plays one of the leads in his sub-troupe’s next play.

“Hisoka…” you whisper to yourself as you trace the actor’s name on the flyer you received.

His gaze pierced straight through your heart, leading you to make an impulsive decision. Quickly scrounging up what leftover funds you had for the month, you resolve to attend all of their performances.

Watching Hisoka act night after night onstage makes your heart bleed for this man that you hadn’t even officially met. Again, you resonate with the melancholic aura that he gives off. It’s silly, really – the most interaction you’ve had with him was at the end of each play when the actors went to the lobby to personally thank and see their patrons off, yet there was just something so hauntingly beautiful about the man, and before you knew it you were drawn in deep.

You wanted to know more.

Days pass after the play’s closing night and you feel as if you’re in a drought – deprived of your favorite muse.

‘Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe I should just keep this admiration as a fan, after all.’

Trying to lift up your spirits, you visit a newly opened cat café. As you walk through the doors, a paw-shaped bell gently chimes and a smile blooms on your face. Immediately, you are comforted by the mellow atmosphere that the establishment exudes. While you take your time to observe the café, a white Japanese bobtail cat walks up to you and gently nuzzles your leg, trying to grab your attention. You slowly squat down to pet the feline and it purrs at your touch.

“Welcome.” a familiar voice greets you sleepily.

Looking up, you yelp in surprise and fall onto your bum at the realization that the worker in front of you is Hisoka. Unperturbed, the fluffy cat you were petting moves over to plop down into your lap.

“Marshmallow.” Hisoka chides lightly, picking up the fur ball and cradling it in his arms. “You’re not supposed to play with the customers until they’ve gotten a table.”

The cat mewls lowly in response, and your heartbeat quickens at the affectionate smile that spreads on Hisoka’s face.

“I’m surprised that Marshmallow has taken a liking to you so easily.” He mumbles, shooting you a curious glance. “Anyway, please follow me to sign a waiver for playing with the cats.”

You quickly read through the document and sign the paper without fuss. Hisoka looks over it and nods before leading you to a table low enough for you to interact with the cats but still kneel comfortably.

Somehow, amidst your internal freak-out, you manage to address Hisoka, “Do you have any recommendations?”

His eyes immediately light up and you find his giddiness to be infectious as he lists several suggestions. “The hot chocolate with marshmallow crème is good. So is the s’mores cupcake – they put a giant toasted marshmallow on top. Oh, but the chocolate marshmallow mousse is also one of our best-sellers…”

You stifle a laugh and scratch the ears of the fluffy white cat in your lap. “I take it that you’re the one that named Marshmallow, then?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I get carried away again? The manager says I need to work on that. Something about how not all people would want to eat marshmallows when they’re here, which is ridiculous.” Hisoka mutters the last sentence under his breath, but you still manage to catch what he says and find it quite endearing paired with the pout on his face.

“It’s fine. Those all sound amazing, and I’m going to be here awhile, so I’ll have those three that you mentioned.” You say with what you hope is a reassuring smile.

“Okay. I’ll be back with your marshmallows soon.” He quirks a shy smile before heading back to the kitchen with your order.

Once he’s out of sight you let out a huge sigh, grabbing at your chest, willing your heartbeat to slow down. As if sensing your distress, Marshmallow meows loudly and rubs his head against your hand.

“Alright, alright.” You murmur in a placating tone and obligingly scratch behind Marshmallow’s ears. He makes a satisfied chirping noise in response. Minutes pass by as you absentmindedly pet the cat while you take in the café’s ambience.

Hisoka returns with a serving tray full of marshmallow treats as promised, and your mouth waters as he sets them on the table. You turn your gaze away from the table to thank Hisoka but find that he is also transfixed on your food. A pout appears on his face and the gaze in his eyes as he regards the marshmallows is almost longing.

Mustering up your courage, you ask, “Um… would you like to join me? I kinda just realized that this is way too much for me to finish by myself…”

Hisoka’s gaze locks onto yours, his expression the liveliest you’ve ever seen off stage. “You sure?”

Brain short-circuiting over how adorable he looks, you only barely manage to nod back.

“Hold on.” Hisoka says, rushing off to the kitchen with an unnatural speed. Before you can really process the interaction, he’s already back at your table and kneeling opposite from you. “My manager said I can take a break for a short while since there’s not too many customers right now. Thanks for sharing your marshmallows…” he trails off. Realizing you forgot to introduce yourself, you immediately do so.

He softly smiles in return. “My name is Hisoka Mikage.”

“Ah, I have to confess that I already knew that.” You laugh nervously. His eyes narrow at you in suspicion, and you honestly don’t blame him. However, the dangerous aura he suddenly exudes has you recoiling a bit. “I, uh… I’ve seen you act before in the Mankai Company.”

His demeanor relaxes ever so slightly at your explanation, but you can tell he’s still on edge.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just that I’m a big fan of your acting and I can’t really believe that I’m seeing you outside of your show runs.”

Still, Hisoka remains silent, staring at you coolly from across the table. Wordlessly, you slide over the chocolate marshmallow mousse to his side as a sort of placating gesture. Hisoka’s eyes narrow even further, squinting at the dessert as if it had personally offended him.

“Is this a bribe?

“…Is it working?”

Hisoka puts a spoonful of the mousse into his mouth and hums thoughtfully as he takes his time to savor the flavor. Seconds pass agonizingly slow before he simply nods at you.

“Apology accepted.”

You feel as if a huge weight is lifted off of your shoulders.

From that day forward you get to know more about Hisoka Mikage, rather than Hisoka the Winter Troupe member of Mankai Company who you so ardently idolized.

And so what if you still idolized him for that? It’s not like it took away from the real affection you had for him as a friend.

‘Only as a friend.’ You think to yourself glumly.

You were thankful for his friendship, really. After that day you two officially met, you frequented the café quite often. In return, Hisoka would set aside his break time for whenever you stopped by. Your relationship had gotten close enough that he felt comfortable resting his head in your lap. You always teased him for this, calling him a “cuddle monster that can only be satiated by naps and marshmallows”. Hisoka has no qualms with this and completely accepts his role.

However, despite the progress you’ve made, you could sense that there’s a barrier he always had up. You could tell that he was trying but there were times that Hisoka would get a faraway look in his eyes as the two of you lazed about. It was during these moments that you felt so close but still so far from him.

One day, he decides that the two of you should hang out at a beach – which is frankly quite ridiculous given the season. Within the first few minutes of arriving, Hisoka remains silent, so you decide to tell him as such.

“So… what’s the reason for taking to me to the beach on this cold winter day?” you joke, trying to lighten the heavy aura Hisoka exudes.

His eyes suddenly snap over to yours as if broken out of a reverie. Just as you’re about to let it be – Hisoka gets into these moods at times, after all – he replies.

“This beach is a place I’ve only shared with my troupe members; it’s a significant place to who I was – to who I am. You’ve become an…” he pauses, mulling over his words carefully. “…important person to me. I can’t explain it, but there’s something about you that makes me feel safe. But–“

Filled with a surge of affection at his words, you blurt out, “Would you like to maybe make this official?”

Hisoka stares at you incomprehensively.

‘Hell, I’ve gotten this far already.’ You think to yourself, thoroughly embarrassed, but determined. ‘I may as well let it all out.’

“I’m sorry if I’m coming on too strong, but this has been on my mind for a long while. Ever since we met at the café – maybe even long before that, when I first saw your acting,” You give him a watery smile. “I was so intrigued by you. I always felt like there was something that just drew me to you. You can’t believe how ecstatic I was that we were able to become friends. But lately, it just hasn’t been enough for me. I’m sorry. I’ve fallen for you.”

Your eyes squeeze shut, scared to see his reaction.

“I love you, Hisoka. If you’ll have me, I’d like the chance to make you happy as your friend, but even more so as your partner.”

Seconds tick by, your anxiety skyrocketing in the silence, when Hisoka’s words strike straight through your heart.

“I can’t.”

“…Oh.” Your voice cracks, tears welling up in your eyes at his rejection. “I see. I totally get it. Don’t worry, you don’t have to be obligated or anything because of my feelings. I’m sorry – “

“Wait.” Hisoka cuts you off then makes a frustrated noise. “It’s not you, I promise.” He grabs your arm causing you to freeze in place, preventing you from making your escape. “It’s not fair to you. I know it isn’t, but…”

“But?” you prompt.

“I don’t know if I can trust you.” Hisoka mumbles, head bowed low, unable to look you in the eye. “…and it kills me.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing.

“There are things that I’m still trying to figure out for myself – things I’m still trying to figure about myself. To drag you into it would be selfish of me. You don’t deserve that.”

“And if I said I didn’t care?” you sob. “What if I told you that I want to help you through it?”

Hisoka makes a pained expression at your words, letting go of your arm as if he was burned. He returns back to his shell that you so desperately tried to pull him out of. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. This is my burden to bear… I’m sorry.”

And just like that, he walks away.

The next day you go to the café where you first met. You pet Marshmallow when he comes over to you as you take a seat at your usual spot, but Hisoka never shows up.

[missnight0wl]

How and why Rakepick staged the meeting in Y6Ch35

So… I wouldn’t say that Y6Ch35 was as bad as Y5Ch30, but it was shitty. Still, I think I can fix it. I’ll try to explain how and why Rakepick staged the meeting in Knockturn Alley, how the Wizard in White is not a member of R, and what might be really going on with the “friendship” between Ben and Merula. Also, just to make things easier for myself, I’ll be calling the Wizard in White: “WIW”.

First things first: let’s talk about the White Quills. I personally don’t believe that R is using them. We’ve never seen any before Y6Ch7, so Jacob can shove his assumption… you know where. However, they are definitely connected to Rakepick as we know that she has a white owl. It doesn’t have to be an actual feather from the said bird, but it’s definitely not a coincidence. Moreover, I believe that it also means that they don’t represent anything malicious. The obvious symbolism aside (black = evil, white = good), we also have that very peculiar remark in “Flying Solo” TLSQ:

Yet, the message in the first White Quill was… well, bad.

But wait! While it does sound like it’s addressed to MC… is it really? Let me remind you that this White Quill was brought by Sickleworth, but he didn’t give it to MC. He was either spotted by accident and was running away OR he wanted to lead MC somewhere. Either way, delivering the Quill wasn’t his goal. He also definitely didn’t want to give it to Jacob.

So, who was supposed to get it? Well, probably WIW, seeing how the second White Quill was almost certainly addressed to him:

(Notice that this note IS NOT signed as “R”!)

But then, why would he get the message seemingly wrote to MC? My guess is that it was sent by Rakepick who was supposed to send it to MC, but she sent it to WIW instead as a way of saying: “Hey, look. They still want to kill a kid” (I don’t know about you, but I sometimes just copy massages between my friends instead of writing “Adam said that he (…)” – I especially did it when I was younger and when I had a fight with someone…). It’s also a physical proof in that case. Why would she want to let him know about it, though? Well, I believe that WIW was supposed to somehow help or even protect MC. I mean, look at our first meeting at the Lakeshore. We know for sure that he didn’t want to kill MC then, but it also doesn’t quite make sense that he wanted to capture them and take them to R. Like… at first, he was just standing there. It almost felt like he wanted to talk to MC, they even had time to ask some questions, and only then, he suddenly attacked. But if his intention was always to capture MC, shouldn’t he attack right away? But then, why did he attack instead of talking? Perhaps he saw someone nearby? Someone who he had to mislead? Someone like… Jacob?

Here's how I see it. Rakepick, who pretends to work for R, works also with WIW (who’s possibly an independent party in all of that). She sends him to tell MC something or whatever. WIW approaches us at the Lakeshore, but then he sees vault!Jacob who’s an evil piece of shit. WIW doesn’t want vault!Jacob to know that he wanted to talk to MC, so he attacks us instead. It’s a bit weird way of distraction, but if vault!Jacob is a member of R, and R needs MC sound and safe to open the final vault, he’d pay attention to attacked MC, giving WIW time to run away. I hope it makes some sense to you… Anyway, the point is that Rakepick and WIW work together, but R doesn’t know about it.

Now, let’s move to the note informing us about the meeting in Knockturn Alley. First of all, the way it was written was… odd.

The style doesn’t resemble any of previous notes from R. And that “come ye all”… Second of all, there was a peculiar name used two times in different context, but in situations connected to that message.

Merula assumingly mentioning the author of the book about Whomping Willow: 

During the searching around the Whomping Willow:

Could that weird note be faked by Lomelia, and that’s why it sounds so weird? Could Lomelia be the Dark witch from Y6Ch35? Something is fishy here…

The third stage: the Polyjuice Potion. Even though I absolutely hate that part, I have to say that it probably gave us the strongest evidence that the whole thing was planned by Rakepick. And that evidence is Snape. Remember when we talked with Snape about the Polyjuice Potion?

Snape is an intelligent man; he knew what we’re planning. Especially that we also asked him about Rakepick a little earlier, and he was already suspicious back then. Yet, he did nothing. Why? Like, even MC wondered about it! And here’s the thing: MC might be dumb as fuck, but if they point out that something is weird and suspicious, it WILL be relevant. Just like their reaction after WIW’s attack:

So, why Snape let us do our thing? Because he also knew it’s Rakepick’s plan. I also honestly hope that she gave him her hair to place it in the DADA classroom because otherwise, it’s beyond stupid that it was there.

All right, we pretty much covered a “how” part of that plan. But now the question is why would Rakepick want to stage it? Well, to put it simply: because she knows that MC is dumb. If not for that meeting, they wouldn’t know two things: 1) that R wants them to join them and become their leader, 2) that there’s the mole. The first information is important for a general understanding of R and the Cursed Vaults, and while MC didn’t get straight answers, it’ll hopefully make them think in the future. As for the mole… Well, it’s more complicated. If you read my theory about Merula being the mole, you should know that I also assume that Rakepick knows about it and perhaps even convinced Merula to keep being the mole. So, why would she want MC to know about that? She’d be risking MC discovering cooperation between her and Merula, wouldn’t she? And MC should believe that Rakepick is evil… Well, I have two explanation for that risky move.

1) Rakepick doesn’t want Merula to be discovered, but she realised that MC is just not careful in general, so she needed to make them aware that there’s some danger in their surrounding. And here, it might be about two people:

Alanza. I’ll say it straight away – I don’t really think it’s the case. Also, then it wouldn’t be about “danger” per se, but about Rakepick not wanting MC to learn something from Alanza. I doubt it, though, simply because Alanza apparently didn’t know Rakepick very well. Although... a part of me find it amusing to think that Rakepick wanted to cast a false suspicion on Alanza, because that’d mean that a big part of the fandom did exactly what Rakepick wanted – and that’s just a little funny, you have to admit.

Vault!Jacob. If he really is a member of R and not real Jacob, Rakepick would know that. Perhaps she hopes that information about the mole could make MC more suspicious about him. Especially that we still didn’t talk about the note from R to him which led to Rowan’s death.

2) Rakepick actually wants to expose Merula because she stopped following her instructions or something. Merula might think she can outsmart R, putting herself and the others in danger by that. And here is where it can be connected to Ben.

All right, so let’s talk about the relationship between Ben and Merula. Because you can’t tell me that it’s not strange. I’ll never be over the fact that we’re just ignoring all the years when Merula bullied Ben, but even that aside, I just don’t understand why they’re suddenly… hang out together. Yes, they both want revenge on Rakepick or whatever, but still. And yes, they do hang out together.

When we met with Ben in Y6Ch1, he told us:

The fact that he knows that Merula changed for worse suggests to me that they had to spend some time together. And let me remind you: it was the first day of a new school year. Moreover, when we later meet with Merula, she said:

Like, how she even paid enough attention to Ben to know that there is any “New Ben”? I know that they both weren’t at the Welcoming Feast, but it doesn’t mean they had to do it together. Nothing implied that there’s some meeting for those skipping on it. Beatrice wasn’t with them, for example. So what, they suddenly discovered that they have much in common?

Then, we had another weird situation in Y6Ch13. When MC wanted to leave Hogwarts, Ben and Merula were hanging out together again AND they both knew about MC’s plan. 

Now, Merula knew about it because Ismelda was eavesdropping on us after the Divination class, but Ben? Either he was with Merula when Ismelda came to her or Merula went with that information to Ben. Either way, it’s weird. Sooo… let’s dive deeper into this.

Unless it’s the first post of mine you read, you probably know that I believe that Rakepick was working with Merula. A while ago, I also explained why I believe that Rakepick was working with Ben in a way (you can find it here). The thing is that I don’t think that Ben and Merula knew about each other. However, they discovered it at some point between the end of Y5 and the beginning of Y6. They started to put the pieces together and realised that there might be things that Rakepick hid from both of them. And so, they’re hanging out together to figure it out. I mean, they both already know more than anyone else, they have to stick together, right? The problem is that I also assume that neither of them knows the truth about Rowan’s death. They’re both angry, they’re both becoming more reckless, and perhaps they came up with some stupid idea how to use Merula’s role as R’s mole in their advantage. And Rakepick doesn’t need any of that because she already has to think of everything, and she’s simply tired. So, by giving MC the information about the mole, she both made MC more aware that they should be careful about people around them, plus she hopes that it’ll stop Ben and Merula from doing something stupid (because they’d be scared that they might be discovered).

Also, notice that during the meeting in Knockturn Alley, Rakepick didn’t really do anything. She just knocked MC down, but then, she didn’t attack anyone. Sure, R needs MC, so she couldn’t hurt them, but why didn’t she try to capture them before Moody and Jacob appeared? It looks to me like she just needed an excuse to interrupt their conversation when MC knew things they were supposed to know. I mean, except that they didn’t learn then about the leader thing yet, but it could explain why WIW was captured so easily. Like, we were told that he defeated Moody’s best people, he disappeared from the Lakeshore before anyone could even notice. Yet, now he just got caught like a wuss? Nah, I don’t buy it. It’s also interesting that neither Rakepick nor the Dark Witch tried to save WIW… Almost as if they didn’t care. I know that there are no friends among R, but still.

To sum up

The Dark Witch - who was also present at the meeting with WIW - was responsible for letting MC know about the meeting. She used a pseudonym “Lomelia Prounce” as a clue that it’s all connected.

Snape knew about the whole plan with the Polyjuice Potion, possibly to deliver a hair or maybe even help MC in case they had problems with that. The disguise was needed because it was the easiest way to deliver information to MC without R knowing that Rakepick was behind it (“Oh, that little shit can be so cunning! How dare they impersonate me!”).

As for WIW, he either joined R in the meantime, so his presence at the meeting wasn’t suspicious, or R somehow didn’t find out that he was at the meeting (and that he was captured and revealed some information to MC).

The reason why Rakepick needed to stage it is because she knows that MC is a dumbass. They were getting nowhere with their investigation. I mean, there was no investigation, to begin with, when you think about it. Plus, revealing that there’s the mole at Hogwarts would hopefully make Merula and Ben calm their tits before doing something stupid like infiltrating R on their own.

Is it too complicated for Jam City? Probably. Still, there HAS TO be something more to all of that. The two things which just won’t let me leave it is that damn Lomelia Prounce (why would they bother to even put that random name in the game?) AND Snape. I’m telling you, we all know that MC for most of the time is oblivious as fuck and rarely ask important questions. But if their single brain cell worked for that one particular moment, it has to be meaningful.

Also, I just need Rakepick to REALLY be that manipulative mastermind who pulls all the strings. The game claims that she is, but if we’re supposed to believe only in what we see - Rakepick is pretty stupid, just like MC... 

[bluecrusadearcade]

Harrison Osterfield is not your regular irregular

By Baker Street, Gentleman’s Journal quizzes the star of Netflix’s new drama on world records, Sherlock Holmes and his golf swing…

Draped in a silk shirt and paisley scarf, Harrison Osterfield is shivering his way across a brisk Regent’s Park. But he’s not complaining. Why would he? After all, the 24-year-old has dealt with worse. In his latest television series alone — Netflix’s The Irregulars — he’s tussled with demonic crows, paranormal serial killers and even the occult. So a little nip in the air? Nothing to worry about.

“I do have my eye on that jumper, though,” beams Osterfield from behind a bold pair of sunglasses. I don’t blame him. It’s a chunky-knit, funnel-neck number from Connolly, and the next piece of clothing lined up for this al fresco photoshoot. But, for now, the young actor must grit his chattering teeth — and continue striking willowy poses in that billowy shirt.

And those poses are turning heads. Dog-walkers, taxi drivers and tourists are all picking up on Osterfield’s energy; a coolly British blend of big grins and bouncy enthusiasm. He swings from a lamppost! He dances through daffodils! He feeds the pigeons! NW1 hasn’t seen this much action in months…

And we’ve come to Regent’s Park for obvious reasons; Baker Street snakes down from its south-west corner. And, on that famous thoroughfare, sits the fictional digs of Sherlock Holmes. But The Irregulars, a supernatural-tinged drama named for Holmes’ gang of trusty street informants, wasn’t shot in London. Rather, it was filmed on the authentically old streets of Sheffield and Liverpool — the same cobbles walked by the Peaky Blinder boys. So this, Osterfield grins, is a fun opportunity to see the real thing.

“All of the rest of the cast,” he admits, “are really big Sherlock fans. I’ve never really read any of the Sherlock books. I’ve seen maybe one Robert Downey Jr. film? So I was very new going into it.”

Today, then, will be a crash course. Because, after we get Osterfield out of the park (and into that jumper), we’re heading to the Holmes Hotel for a coffee and a catch-up. It’s a relatively new hotel just off Baker Street, decked out with knowing nods to the world’s greatest detective. There’s a bronze bulldog guarding the door, pipe-patterned wallpaper and signature cocktails at the sadly-closed bar (anyone for a ‘Case Closed’?).

But, though there are only suggestions of Sherlock in the Holmes Hotel, Osterfield explains that they’re even subtler in the show. Because The Irregulars, in a nutshell (wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma), sidelines the sleuth, and shifts the focus onto Osterfield and his fellow gang members. The actor plays one of the show’s leads; frail runaway nobleman Prince Leopold. All sullen glances and broken bones, his story is the heart of this first season.

“And it’s been a long project in the making,” says Osterfield, noting that filming on The Irregulars began almost two years ago. “That’s quite daunting. When you’ve spent that much time on something and you’ve got no idea how it’s going to turn out?

“It means that, now, it’s crunch time,” he continues, face creasing with mock-worry, “and I have no idea how people are going to react. But I’m really proud of the work, and that’s what I’m taking away from it.”

The Irregulars may be Osterfield’s first lead role — but he’s been acting for years, popping up in several short films and the George Clooney-directed adaptation of Catch-22 before Netflix took notice. His first role came at 11-years-old, when he was cast as Tiny Tim in his school’s stage production of A Christmas Carol. “It’s funny, actually,” says Osterfield, “because it’s quite a similar physicality to my role in The Irregulars”.

“But that’s where it started,” he continues. “And the real reason I got into acting was because there was this girl in the drama class who I really liked. I thought, if I joined up and impressed her, I could take her out on a date. That didn’t happen. But, although she wasn’t interested at all — the acting seems to be going okay!”

It certainly does. But, like actors all over the world, it’s been a very slow year for Osterfield. He returned to set in September to finish filming the Netflix show — but the rest of his lockdown was eerily, cannily familiar to everyone else’s.

“I went back to my home in Kingston,” he nods, “where I was living with three of my best mates who are also actors. Quite a few of my friends are in theatre, and they had a really tough time of it — not knowing what was going to happen next. I was very lucky, knowing that I was going back to finish something”.

The actor says it was strange being locked-down with fellow performers. With sets closed around the country and curtains falling on theatres, it was one of the first times they had all been at home together. But, even with the additional pressure, he says there were no problems. And there never have been, according to Osterfield — as it’s rare that he and his friends ever compete for the same role.

“We’re all very different castings!” he laughs. “Which is good. It’s a mixed bag, really. But it’s very useful when you’ve got to self-tape an audition and there’s another actor literally upstairs. Also, we’ve all known each other for ten years, so we’ve grown up together and, luckily, know when not to push each other’s buttons.”

With no work, Osterfield spent most of his 2020 getting stuck into lockdown. And he shamelessly tried every self-isolated stereotype. He binge-watched every sports documentary from Drive to Survive to Last Chance U. He upped the frequency and intensity of his workouts. He even tried his hand at cooking. He tried everything.

“I did try everything!” the actor laughs, fizzing once more with that lamppost-swinging, daffodil-dancing energy. “Really! I think I went though every lockdown activity there is. I gave baking a go for two weeks — that didn’t work out. I made a banana bread and that was it. I’m not going to be delving into that any more…

“We were quite lucky, though,” he adds, “because we had an outdoor space. We built a homemade golf net in our garden, by putting up two wooden poles and hanging a blue screen we had left over from filming. That kept us entertained most days”.

But, despite the failed banana breads, closed-off golf courses and Irregulars anxiety, Osterfield says that the worst thing about lockdown was missing his family.

“Because we’re a very close family”, he explains. “Massively so. And, usually, we’d have family gatherings every other weekend – my whole family are in East Grinstead and closer to Brighton, so real countryside. I’m honestly just looking forward to the day, with summer on the horizon, that we can do some good barbecues outside.

“We even tried family Zoom quizzes over lockdown,” he adds, “and they all figured out that I’m not that clever. The rest of my family all seem really, really intelligent. I don’t know if they were just revising beforehand, but I was definitely last a couple of times…”

And Osterfield’s most inspiring family member — not to mention the most irregular — is his 89-year-old grandfather. Despite the young actor upping his own fitness levels during lockdown (“I started doing handstand push-ups. That’s my new skill!”) Osterfield’s grandfather put those athletic achievements to shame.

“He’s fitter than me!” laughs Osterfield. “He’s been kept at home for most of the time and, as a family, we’ve been quite worried about him. But I struggle to keep up with him. I’ll ring him up and ask how his day’s going and he’ll say ‘Oh, hi Harry. Can I call you back later on? I’m just doing some exercise’. So he’s doing better than okay!”

But the exercising, Osterfield says seriously, has been a real lifeline. It’s kept both him and his mind busy during lockdown — and has motivated the actor to pursue more physical, active roles in the future. If he can look back at a body of versatile work, measured out in marked body transformations, he says he’ll be happy.

“I’ve been doing a lot of bodyweight exercise over the last year,” he nods. “I thought it would be quite cool, while in lockdown, to break a world record for something — so I’ve been trying lots of fitness challenges. I’m very close to getting the most burpee chin-ups in under a minute. I’ve got to knuckle down on that.

“I also tried to eat an apple in under 38 seconds,” he laughs. “Which sounds like a long time, but it’s actually quite difficult. And, with apples, I eat everything. Even the middle bit. Even the stem. I just chuck it down. I’m a big fruit bat, so I eat everything apart from the seeds.”

There’s that bouncy energy again; that fun-but-utterly-sincere enthusiasm. It’s an odd thing for an actor, to be so happily unabashed by everything — but the 24-year-old is as animated when talking about his acting as he is about his apples. And that’s nice to see. He’s clearly relishing every opportunity to better himself, and just getting started with what promises to be a very exciting career. Harrison Osterfield, it seems, takes every bite of the apple — literally. Talk about irregular.

[lunetheaveragefan]

‘one day...’

Hey y’all! This chapter was supposed to be posted last Monday but last week was so busy for me and I forgot. So finally, here is chapter 7! Chapter 8 was supposed to be posted next week, but I’m going to continue with my typical two week schedule so I don’t forget again! Hope you enjoy!

A Sander Sides high school AU

Pairing: Prinxiety and some background Logicality

Summary: Virgil is used to being alone. He only has one friend, Logan. But when Logan makes a new friend, things begin to change as two more join their group. Roman, a boisterous theater kid, seems determined to destroy Virgil’s lonely, average life. How much will Virgil’s life change?

Warnings: swearing; brief mention of a panic attack; eating; if you notice anything else, let me know!

Word Count: 2557 words

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CHAPTER SEVEN

Virgil exits the auditorium with Patton and Logan, grinning.

“He did so good!” Patton exclaims. Before either of the others have a chance to respond, Patton continues, “It was like he was a completely different person! Here, let’s go congratulate him!” Virgil and Logan follow Patton down a few crowded hallways, weaving in and out of people talking to other members of the cast. 

“Roman!” Patton yells, waving his arms. Virgil catches sight of Roman, stepping out of a set of heavy doors. Behind him, it’s dark, but Virgil can make out a folding table and the edges of black curtains. Backstage. Then, a group of people walk in front of them, and Virgil loses sight of Roman.

Without hesitation, Patton grabs Logan’s hand and begins to shove people aside, muttering a few cheerful ‘Excuse me’s and ‘Sorry’s. Before Virgil has a chance to get a hold of Logan, they’re lost in the crowd. 

Well, what the heck do I do now? Virgil wonders, chuckling softly. A hand brushes his arm at the same time a voice says, “Hey. Where are the others?”

After seeing who it is, Virgil laughs and answers, “They went to look for you.” Roman slaps his forehead with his palm, uttering a sound that’s half-sigh, half-laugh. He rises up to his toes, straining to look over people’s heads.

“This same goddamn thing happens every year. You would think we’d learn by now.” Roman looks back down at Virgil, and at the very second he does, Virgil sees Patton pop up above the rest of the crowd. Pointing so Roman will see, Virgil waves his other hand to catch Patton’s attention. It works, and Roman grabs Virgil’s hand, causing his heart to skip a beat. 

After a lot of pushing and shoving, the two of them reach Patton and Logan, standing pressed up against the wall next to a chair. So that’s how Patton got so tall all of a sudden. The second Patton sees them, he starts to gush about the performance.

“That was so good, Roman!” Patton exclaims clapping his hands in glee. He bounces on the balls of his feet, a wide smile spread across his face. “We all loved it and we’re so proud of you and it sounded so good and I think Virgil might’ve even been crying—” Virgil blushes when Roman looks at him with a shocked expression—“I’m not sure I couldn’t see through my own tears. But for real it was so good, like, I can’t even believe it was put on by high schoolers—” Logan places a hand on Patton’s shoulder. The action confirms to Virgil that Logan definitely has some sort of crush on Patton; Logan never really touches anyone in any way, with the occasional exception of Virgil. 

“Sorry,” Patton says, grinning sheepishly. Roman chuckles and looks at Patton, appreciation covering his face.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you came. All of you.” Roman’s smile at him, although no more than a few seconds, makes butterflies erupt in Virgil’s stomach. He smiles back hesitantly, an intense debate going on in his head.

C’mon, tell him how much you liked it! one side says. 

No! He won’t think it’s sincere. He’ll just figure you’re copying Patton, the other says back. 

Maybe he will take it seriously! Maybe then you’ll have a better chance with him!

Better chance? You don’t actually like him, do you?

Of course he does! The butterflies, dreams, that’s the only logical conclusion!

Shut up, Virgil interrupts. I’ll tell him good job, but as a friend. Because I don’t like him. He’s still Roman Princeford. Have you all forgotten what happened freshman year? That ends the argument in its tracks. He gathers his courage, a rolling knot of apprehension twisting in his stomach.

“Yeah, it was really good, Roman,” Virgil compliments. “Although, Patton, you didn’t need to freaking snitch on me and how I was crying.” Patton shrugs, like ‘What can you do?’ Virgil chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Wait, you were actually crying?” Roman asks. When Virgil turns back to look at Roman, he bursts out laughing at his face. It’s filled with complete and utter shock, eyes wide, mouth in a small, disbelieving ‘o’ shape. It seems so much like a face a cartoon character would make that Virgil can’t control his laughter. “What?”

“Your—Your face—” Virgil manages between wheezes. Roman punches Virgil in the arm.

“Stop. That’s not nice.” His words sound angry, but he’s smiling and his tone — and punch — are light. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Virgil says, taking deep breaths to hold the laughter in. “It was just so comically shocked. But yes. I did actually cry. And don’t seem so surprised this time.” 

“Honestly, your laugh was more surprising. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that. It’s a nice sound,” Roman admits, his face filled with something that seems awfully close to adoration. But then he blinks, and his smile is just an ordinary, million-dollar, Roman Princeford smile. It wouldn’t matter if he said it with contempt, because the compliment would’ve still sent a flood of warmth through Virgil. His heart is racing, but this time, not out of panic. 

Tearing his eyes away from Roman and trying to inconspicuously grit his teeth, which is no easy feat, Virgil thinks, What is going on? It’s just a compliment. It’s not like you have a crush on him or anything. 

“Anyway,” Roman starts, addressing the whole group, “I better go find my parents so they can fawn over me like I’m next Lin-Manuel Miranda or Leslie Odom Jr.” Upon seeing everyone’s blank looks, his eyes widen and he says, “Hamilton stars? Only some of the best singers to ever step foot on Broadway? Voices like goddamn angels who can, for some reason, also rap?” When everyone shakes their head, he sighs. “I swear, you guys must be living under a rock. But anyway, Imma head out. We’ll meet by door 10 at, say, 9:00, for the sleepover?” 

Patton and Logan nod their heads and immediately start talking to each other, Patton’s hands moving animatedly.

“Sleepover?” Virgil asks. 

“Yeah, Patton and I have a tradition where after every show or any big event with one of our activities, we have a sleepover. Even if it went terribly. He didn’t tell you?” Virgil shakes his head. Roman smiles and continues, “Well, you won’t want to miss it. Door 10 at 9, got it?” Once Virgil gives him confirmation, Roman turns and disappears into the crowd.

Virgil stares after him, a strange feeling welling up inside him. And this time, when the possibility of a crush comes up in his thoughts, he doesn’t dismiss it immediately. 

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

Virgil sits against Roman’s wall, an excessive amount of pillows behind his back, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, a comparison that Patton has already, unfortunately, made.

“I still cannot comprehend how you possibly require this immense amount of pillows,” Logan persists. He can’t stop marveling over how many pillows Roman has on his bed. It’s about the 4th time he’s mentioned it.

“Logan, dude, just let it go,” Virgil chuckles, throwing the stuffed bear next to him. It hits Logan, who’s sitting on the floor, square in the side of his head. He opens his mouth to protest, but Roman interrupts him.

“Hey, don’t throw King Snuffles. He doesn’t deserve this abuse.” Roman leans over to pick the bear off the floor. Cradling it in his arms, he glares at Virgil. 

“You named your bear King Snuffles?” Virgil questions, not all that surprised. Roman gasps and fakes being offended.

“Yes,” he replies, his voice scandalized. “And what the hell of it?” Virgil puts his hands up in surrender.

“Woah. Nothing, I guess, if you’re going to get so defensive about it.” He pulls the blanket, which fell down when he put up his hands, back around him. There’s too much on his head, so it falls in front of his face. Before he can reach up to push it up, a hand does it for him. Roman smiles at him, patting his head after setting the blanket there. Virgil rolls his eyes.

He hopes the yellow-orange LED lights and the shadows from the blanket hide the blush creeping across his cheeks. 

“I’m hungry so I’m gonna head and get snacks,” Roman announces, turning and sling his legs over the edge of the bed to stand. Patton bolts to his feet. 

“No, no, I’ll do it,” he says, clearly up to something. “And Logan will come with me.” 

“Well, actually—” Logan begins. Patton elbows him, and he changes course. “I guess I’m going with.” On their way out, Patton gives Roman an exaggerated wink. Roman, in lieu of a response, gives him an exasperated, I’m-so-done kind of look. Virgil can’t say for sure, but when Roman looks back at him, he thinks Roman’s blushing.

“So…” Roman starts, biting his lip and fidgeting with his fingers. Virgil’s never seen him look this unsure. He’s used to a confident, brash, slightly egotistical Roman. To his surprise, he almost prefers this side of Roman. 

Virgil must lose his mind for a little, because he’s definitely not acting like himself when he suggests, “Pillow fight?” and right after, grabs a pillow and flings it at Roman, whacking him in the face. 

A borderline-evil smile appears on Romans face as he says, “Oh, you’re on.” Virgil’s senses pick that exact moment to come back, but he can’t take it back now. So he does the only thing he can do: slings the pillow again. Chaos erupts, and a Virgil verse Roman pillow fight begins. 

As he throws and gets hit by pillows, Virgil laughs and yells, heart pounding, breathing in quick bursts, but this feels better than panic attacks. Happiness. It’s something Virgil doesn’t feel a whole lot since he spends most of his life stuck in a state of anxiety. It’s nice to be happy again.

He’s so lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice the pillow coming towards him until it slaps him in the face. Virgil falls backwards, head landing, conveniently, on a pillow. He sits up and hits Roman with it, and they’re at it again. 

When Roman starts to fall off the bed, Virgil starts to laugh. But then he realizes that somehow, they’d gotten tangled in a blanket, and if Roman is going down, Virgil will too. Shrieking in surprise, Virgil instinctively closes his eyes as he’s yanked off the bed. A pillow hits the back of his head once he’s landed. He laughs and opens his eyes to see Roman directly under him. There’s no doubt about it now; Roman is definitely blushing. For that matter, so is Virgil. 

There’s also no way Virgil can deny his crush anymore. But that doesn’t mean he has to deal with it, right? ...Right...

Desperate to put an end to the awkwardness, Virgil stands and offers his hand to Roman. He takes it and pulls himself to his feet. They make eye contact for a second before Virgil looks down at his hands. I wonder what would’ve happened if I’d kissed him. 

Nope, nope, nope. Not gonna think about that. Don’t have to deal with that, remember?

“I, uh, wonder what’s taking Patton and Logan so long with the snacks,” Roman finally says, breaking the tense silence. Virgil wants to sigh in relief. 

Instead, he simply responds, “I’m not sure. Let’s go see.” They walk to the landing of the stairs. Strangely, there isn’t any sound coming from the kitchen. After walking down the first few steps, Virgil can see into the room. What he sees should come as a surprise, but it really doesn’t.

Apparently, trying to set up Roman and Virgil wasn’t the only reason why Patton wanted Logan to come with. Logan is pressed up against the counter, hand wrapped around Patton’s waist as they kiss. Patton’s palms hold Logan’s face, tilting it down to account for the inches Logan has on him. 

Roman, standing right behind Virgil, mutters, “Okay. Okay then.” Virgil starts to laugh but forces himself to stop so Logan or Patton don’t hear. Carefully, they creep back to the bedroom, letting them have their moment.

“So how long do you think that’s been going on for?” Roman asks once they’re back sitting on his bed, Virgil back to being wrapped up in his blanket cocoon again.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Virgil admits. “I kinda figured Logan had a crush on Patton, but I didn’t think they would actually get together, at least not this soon.”

“Yeah ever since their chemistry project, Patton's been crushing on Logan hard. He doesn’t shut up about it. Apparently,” Roman says, leaning in conspiratorially, “they’ve been talking a lot. Patton’s been so tired lately cuz they’re up til, like, 1 AM, video chatting.”  

“That is news to me.” Virgil pauses, staring at the door. The two of them sit in silence for a while — comfortable silence — just waiting for Patton and Logan to reappear with the snacks they were supposed to be bringing. After about 10 more minutes, Virgil turns to Roman and asks, “Do you think I should call them up? They’ve been down there for an awful long time.”

“Yeah. The last thing I want is for them to have sex on my kitchen counter.” Virgil winces at the image that appears in his head at the words.

After Roman yells down to Logan and Patton, Virgil says, “Oh, god. Please never say anything like that again. I do not need that image in my head.” Roman laughs. 

“An image of what?” Patton asks, walking in the room with Logan not far behind. Thankfully, they had the decency to pretend like they weren’t just making out. But Patton didn’t have so much decency to pretend like he hadn’t been eavesdropping on their conversation. They drop a few Halloween-size, assorted candy bulk bags and two big bowls of popcorn on the bed. 

“Nothing,” Virgil answers, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it in his mouth. “Ooh, Sour Patch Kids.” He grabs four individual bags of them and drops them in his lap. 

“Jeez, hungry much?” Roman teases. Virgil flips him off and takes another handful of popcorn. Roman tries to sneakily grab a handful of mini bars from the bag of chocolate-based candy, but Virgil notices.

“Jeez, hypocritical much?” he quips, smirking. 

“Oh, fuck off,” Roman responds, sticking his tongue out like a little kid. Virgil sticks his out right back. Patton, who, unsurprisingly, hates swearing, quickly attempts to change the subject.

“Hey, I have an idea! Let’s play Two Truths, One Lie! Then we can get to know each other better!” he suggests. The rest of them agree, and Patton goes first. They take turns, occasionally sharing stories and facts about themselves. And when they get bored of Two Truths, One Lie, they switch to Truth or Dare, and Virgil has to eat a spoonful of mayo.

Patton’s the first to fall asleep. Not long after, around 2 AM, Roman and Logan follow. Virgil sits wrapped in his blanket cocoon in the darkened bedroom. He stares out the window at the dim stars, thinking about how lucky he is. He has three great friends who he can make memories and laugh with.

He turns to look at Roman, asleep on the bed beside him. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, “for surprising me.”

[megashadowdragon]

coldhands identity is brave danny flint

Could Coldhands be Brave Danny Flint? It sounds crackpot, and very likely is, but the more I thought about it the more it appealed to me. I've done a quick search, one or two people seem to have floated this before but it's never had much in-depth analysis. This is my first meta, so please be gentle and C&C welcome.

The Gender Agenda To start with, I'll start with the elephant in the room - Danny Flint was a girl, Coldhands is male. Or is he? Gilly, Meera, and Bran all refer to him as male, but they have no idea who he is, so would see Night's Watch clothes and assume. He wears a scarf over his face, and while they can see his eyes and that his face is pale, it took Bran's gang a decent amount of time to work out he was a walking corpse, so I'm not sure I trust them to figure out niceties like gender. Leaf's "They killed him long ago" is more of a problem - she's a colleague, she would probably know. My best defence is that maybe Children of the Forest don't do gender in the same way as humans? This feels like a reach, but we have had another magical species with sexual fluidity leading to trouble with pronouns in the series. Otherwise, Leaf tends to hang out in the cave, Coldhands can't get in, maybe they're just not that close. Finally, the main person to ask - Coldhands his or her self. The only other post I could see on reddit about this theory had someone respond with the quote "Once the heart has ceased to beat, a man's blood runs down into his extremities, where it thickens and congeals. His hands and feet swell up and turn as black as pudding. The rest of him becomes as white as milk", but I'd point out this is in third person and a generalization - "a man", not "me, Coldhands, the man".

Okay, now I've convinced everyone my theory is terrible, let's get into the meat of it.

Hands cold as stone This was what got me into this rabbit hole in the first place - House Flint's sigil is "A grey stone hand upon a white inverted pall on paly black and grey". A stone hand would be pretty cold, right? In point of fact, when we first met Coldhands, the final line of the chapter describes "fingers hard as stone." On top of that, the white and black background seems to fit the Night's Watch blacks, pale face, black hands, white snow, etc.

Who the hell else could it be? This has always been the weird thing about Coldhands for me. Honestly, there's a very good chance this is a non mystery mystery, he's a zombie Night's watch ranger riding an elk, do we really need a secret identity? However, "who is Coldhands?" is one of the most commonly asked questions in the fandom, so let's assume it's getting an answer. We know: a) night's watch member b) killed a long time ago, as reckoned by a 200 year old, c) not Benjen. There are essentially 3 historical periods where we know any specifics about the Night's Watch: 1) the long night/age of heroes, 2) Targaryen era, 3) recent history. If we work through these backwards, we can pretty much rule out the recent era for not meeting the criteria of "killed a long time ago". The Targaryen era didn't have much Night's Watch drama, a few kings sent to the wall at Aegon's conquest, Raymun Redbeard's invasion is wall related but the whole point of that story is that the Night's Watch failed to really get involved... the only strong contender from this period is a mysterious magical Targaryen bastard who went to the wall and went missing... but he's the other mysterious good zombie wandering around up north. The long night has a lot of Night's Watch focus, but it was 10,000 years ago. Allowing for this being in-universe exaggeration, it's still ~2,000 years ago, and if Coldhands were that old, I'm not sure he'd be in elk-riding mutineer-killing form, or at least not look passably human to Bran and co. This rules out specific timeline characters, which leaves more folkloric characters like Danny Flint, who isn't associated to any one point in time. There's a song, and she's treated as a well-known tale, which implies a fairly long time, but overall could be whenever. This works for any of the folkloric Night's Watch characters, but the Rat King is already otherwise occupied with a different cannibalistic pseudo immortality, leaving Mad Axe, who does have the massacring fellow brothers down pat, but doesn't feel thematically right to me. This section really grew in the writing, but TL;DR - assuming Coldhands is someone we've heard of before, no specific historical figures seem to match up chronologically, leaving figures from folk tales and songs, which there are only so many of.

Mutineer Massacre For a character we've all obsessed over so much, it's easy to forget how little we've seen of Coldhands. His role in the story has effectively been "transport Sam and Gilly to the wall, transport Bran and co to Bloodraven, massacre the Night's Watch mutineers". Hold up, one of those things is not like the others. During his quest to get Bran to Bloodraven, to awake the messiah and save the world, Coldhands takes a break and makes a detour to kill the Night's Watch Mutineers from Crasters. This is explicitly noted to be something they slow down for, when time is critical. Admittedly, it secures the party some delicious Long Pork when supplies are low, but even in aDwD it seems like there are other ways to get meat than to hunt humans, besides which he kills not one but five mutineers. He claims it is because the mutineers are following them, but Meera points out they've been circling for days - it seems Coldhands deliberately sought the mutineers out. The brutality of the kills also suggests more than utilitarian pragmatism - there are entrails slung through branches and severed heads! All of this to say, Coldhands is deliberately shown as both a member of the Night's Watch, and willing/going out of his way to punish Night's Watch brothers who break their vows and harm their fellow brothers, something Danny Flint might take personally. Basically, it's a classic exploitation movie with an elk-riding zombie as the wronged woman hunting down wrongdoers. Someone call Tarantino to direct this.

A True Night's Watch One of the big themes GRRM loves is the idea that outsiders to an institution can be the truest embodiment of that institution - Dunk and Brienne are the truest Knights, Davos is the truest lord, the Manderlys are the most loyal northerners. Coldhands already seems to tie into this - the Night's Watch are tireless defenders from the Others and their Wights, so ironically the staunchest ranger is undead as well. It would only emphasise this theme if this ultimate Night's Watch ranger was someone who was barred from entry, had to sneak in, and was murdered by their brothers for not belonging. There also seems to be a thematic tie in that Danny Flint had to essentially infiltrate the Night's Watch and keep her cover in hostile terrain, much like Coldhands in the Others controlled north.

Bonding over being murdered by your brothers Coldhands has so far been very much one of Bran's cast, but it's worth noting characters can switch storylines, and we have someone else in the North who can soon relate to being a back-from-the-dead Night's Watchman fighting the Others - I'm hardly the first to note the Coldhands/Jon parallels, but Coldhands being another character who was murdered by the Night's Watch due to their conservatism and hatred of outsiders would add another layer.

Miscellany A couple of quotes I found while researching for this: “Did Mance ever sing of Brave Danny Flint?” “Not as I recall. Who was he?” (ADWD Jon XII) - Tormund and Jon talking, Tormund mistaking Danny Flint for a man, this feels like one of those throw-away lines GRRM likes to include to make a little double meaning once the truth is out, or just seeding the idea of mistaking Danny Flint for a man. “The ranger wore the black of the Night’s Watch, but what if he was not a man at all?" (ADWD Bran I) - again, I could see GRRM giggling as he typed that if this theory were true.

Conclusion Honestly, there is every chance this is absolute nonsense, and I've just lost it waiting for TWoW. I tend to lean towards Coldhands not having a big identity reveal, he's an undead ranger co-opted by Bloodraven and that's enough. However, if Coldhands is to have an identity reveal, I think Danny Flint deserves consideration: there aren't that many viable candidates, her story is emotionally intense enough and has been referred to often enough that a casual fan could be expected to go "oh!" instead of "...let me google that", and it would fit with existing themes of the story. The angle of Jon parallels even gives an opening for the reveal to be natural and facilitate character and thematic arcs, which is what I look for in a theory.

comment on reddit

Yeah, the Flint (of Flint's Finger) sigil literally being a Cold Hand is what sold me on this when I started looking into it. There's also some other intriguing textual stuff about it...

The weird thing about Danny Flint is that she is only mentioned three times in all of ASOIAF. Three! Bran recounts her tale in Bran IV, ASOS; Theon hears Wyman Manderly demand her song in The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD; and Jon discusses her tale with Tormund in Jon XII, ADWD.

This was kind of shocking to me. Danny Flint is a pretty recognizable name to, I’d figure, the majority of attentive readers. I thought she must have been mentioned before the third book, at least, but… nope. Her tale is first introduced to us in Bran IV, ASOS, the Nightfort chapter… Oh, what’s that? Wait, isn’t that… the very same Nightfort chapter where we first hear about Coldhands? (Well, no, actually, he appears at the end of Samwell III before that, but this is the first chapter where he is identified as Coldhands.) Chronologically, Sam meets Coldhands, Bran thinks about Danny Flint, and then Sam introduces Bran to Coldhands, in fairly quick succession.

So it seems GRRM came up with Danny Flint and Coldhands around the exact same time. Interesting. Danny Flint is then not mentioned again until ADWD, when the Coldhands mystery is developed further. Double interesting.

Also, the Bran chapter directly preceding the Nightfort chapter– our first introduction to Danny Flint– is the one where Meera tells him the story of the Knight of the Laughing Tree, another tale of a northern warrior woman dressing as a man and hiding her face in service of some greater goal. Stretch? Maybe.

And why would Coldhands' face be covered at all if there WASN'T some big reveal upcoming? What utility would that have? That scarf clearly seems like a setup for SOMETHING. He doesn't need it for warmth. He's likely hiding a face that would make him recognizable to Bran/Meera/Jojen (and the readers), but died long ago... the only way that reveal could work without a ton of laborious exposition is if he took off the scarf and it was obviously a 'female' face, making it obviously Danny. It also seems likely Coldhands will interact with at least Bran and Meera again, both of whom are somewhat connected to Danny Flint’s story– Bran via his love of stories and legends, and Meera via the breaking of gender roles. So there's thematic levels to it as well.

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