#the course itself has left me w no real skills i can name

[nohkalikai]

3 months after completing my master's degree requirements, i can confidently say it was a waste of time and money.

[bl--ankhaeji]

Aphrodisiac

Pairing ~ Witch!WinWin x Witch!Reader 

Genre ~ smut,,enemies to lovers,,secret magic schoolau ig

Warning ~ oral both male and fem receiving,,creampie,,multiple orgasms,,drugging?(not really but..really),,overstim,,brief mention of death,,I think that’s it 

 A/N ~ This is something I made for Halloween. Yes I know it has passed but idc 😂. This is my longest fic so far and I’m kinda excited for you guys to read it. I also want to thank my beta readers/editors for this @kjmsupremacist @bumblebeenct @starlit-jeno @earth-to-that-asian You guys were such a big help and I’m glad to have you all as my moots as well. 

W. Count ~ 7.1k

The sound of the bell rang throughout the school signaling the end of your second to last class. The metallic slam of locker doors and murmurs of hundreds of students filled the hallways as you made your way towards the gym. A tired sigh leaves your lips as you maneuver through students; you don’t have time to say hi to your friends that call your name over the chatter in the halls, hoping the leisurely wave you throw towards them suffices you make your way past them. The heavy doors of the gymnasium weigh on your arms as you push them out of the way, heading towards the back of the school. Which to others may just look like some woods, but you know that everything is not always as it appears to be. 

Before long a worn down cobblestone road came into view and even though you could barely tell the haphazardly placed rocks were a trail, you knew just how to get to where you were going without the help of the rocks. Pretty soon the road started to clear up to the point that one could walk it easily without the risk of twisting an ankle. The slight sound of running water you had heard for the past 15 minutes got significantly louder, signaling that the waterfall you had consistently visited plenty of times was close, which also let you know that your destination was near. 

You could practically see the ever glowing lights of the cottage where you got better at your craft lighting up the dark forest. The upwards bridge of the cottage now in view, you started to mumble a soft yet powerful spell under your breath. Upon reaching the closed wooden gate you look up, eyes winding the covered bridge until you see the seemingly lifeless cottage covered in a blanket of vines. Still in the midst of conjuring you raise your right hand, the sound of your magic crackling in the silence as a white orb forms from the center of your palm. With the spell heavy on your lips, you hold the decently sized orb to the vines and as the light touches them they slowly start to unwrap themselves from around the gate. 

Placing the orb on top of the vines, you watch as it flows up the path with you directly behind it still casting the spell. Finally stepping up to the porch, you watch as your orb floats to the very top of the elevated cottage touching the vines up there so that all of them will clear. You can feel the change in the air as you step through the doors of the now brightly lit cottage and a smile takes over your face. 

The door slams shut behind you, causing your smile to fall, and instantly you’re on high alert. A million and one spells sweep throughout your mind that you could possibly use to fend off whoever the intruder is, “Ahh the old Disentanglement Orb, quite a beautifully difficult spell if I do say so myself. Always gets the job done. Only set back though is how much energy and time it takes to execute,” Looking towards the voice, you turn to face your foe; upon seeing the body situated in the chair you immediately relax, letting out a tired sigh. “But you always were, and I quote, ‘An exemplary student with a thirst for betterment!’”   

“Fuck you Sicheng. Oh, and you really should get out of Ms.Torrent’s chair before she comes to class. She was already wondering where you’ve been the past couple of weeks,” you say, rolling your eyes. The sound of your steps against the wood echo through the room as you make your way to one of the two desks situated in the room. You start getting your things out of your bag preparing for class when you hear an ouch come from where the boy sat. 

Walking to his seat with his hands in his pockets free of items he sits in his seat facing you, “You wound me, sweets. I was just teasing, you know you should really think about surgery,” he says with his head sat atop his hand. You give him a confused look. What kind of surgery is he talking about? “You should really think about getting surgery to remove the stick from your ass, you seem a little uptight lately.” 

The anger you feel starts as a low simmer; not much, but still there. Looking up from where you stand above your desk, you make eye contact with the seated male. “What did you just say to me?” 

“You heard me,” he says.

“You know what Sicheng what the fuck is your problem with me, huh?” You can already feel your magic starting to stir in the pit of your stomach. You were never the best at controlling your anger. 

A snicker falls from his lips as he stands up. “Oh my problem? How could I have a problem with Miss Prodigy over here, little goody five shoes? No one ever sees her without her head in a book, or better yet up some teacher’s ass.” 

“Shut the fuck up right now. You don’t know me or anything about me.” Flashes of your dead father's body laid in front of you circulated through your mind. Ever since that day, you had to fend for yourself and your mother, who was human. That also meant that you were left to learn magic all on your own, since your mother couldn’t help you at all and the only witch in your family, your father, was no longer around to teach you himself. 

“Since we’re throwing shots at least I worked for everything I have. I strived to perfect the witch in me, unlike spoiled daddy’s boy over here who’s had everything on a silver platter since birth. The best tutors, conjurers, postionists, the best everything. And even if you weren’t as good at magic as you are, you would still be in the position you are because of daddy’s money.” You were absolutely heated at this point; any more and your magic would start firing off by itself. 

Sicheng looked as if he was ready to take your head off, and he actually could with a simple spell but that’s besides the point. A navy blue aura, the color of his magic, encased his body. Oozing power that was advanced for someone of his age. But he wasn’t the only one who had honed their skills way past where they should be. 

You couldn’t see it yourself, but you knew you were also sheathed in the white aura of your own magic. The air in the room grew rampant with the amount of angry power circulating through it. The bottles of potions and herbs on shelves started to rattle as if there were an earthquake. The few plants Ms.Torrent had around the classroom started to droop considerably because of  the negative energy. Out of the corner of your eye you could see things starting to float in the air. 

It was as if you had split the classroom down the middle, and by now you assumed your magic had grown large enough as to place a cast over your side of the classroom. The objects floating on your side faced toward the boy and his alike. You and Sicheng were about to tear this classroom to shreds. You both were so focused on each other that you didn’t even notice the door to Ms.Torrent’s upstairs office open. 

“Hey, do you guys know why the ambiance in this place just got so dark all of a- HEY! What the fuck are you guys doing in my classroom?” With a furious wave of her hand everything stopped. The rattling ceased and the army of objects you and Sicheng both had were quickly overtaken by gravity. The sound of them hitting the floor was the only thing to be heard besides Ms. Torrent’s angry breathing. “I leave you two alone for a few minutes before class starts and I walk in to find the two of you at each other's throats. I thought I told you guys what my rules for entering this classroom were the first day you walked in here as the witch novices you were and still are,” she said with a deadly calm voice, the look in her eyes anything but. 

It was the first time she ever called you guys anything other than her usual surgery terms of endearment. “And you both broke not one but two of the only rules I gave you. I thought for almost fully grown witches, you would be able to at least understand and abide by those, but I guess I overestimated you both. Now since you both seem to have forgotten, I’ll ask this once and once only. What are my rules for entering this room?” 

Simultaneously you and Sicheng start to repeat the rules she told you both on the first day you walked into the room. You remember that day like it was yesterday. You had finally made it, after years of stealing spell books from the hidden parts of the libraries you worked at, rereading every single book left in your father’s study over and over and over again, and practicing spells on your own everyday until you finally were able to get a real teacher. So of course you remember the first and only solid rules she gave you when you walked through the door. 

“I’ll only tell you guys these rules once, break them and you’re out.” Your new teacher said with a straight face. “First, the only time your magic is to be used in this room is when I give permission for you to use it. Other than that you are not allowed to use it. Seeing as how I am supposed to teach you magic you’ll virtually always be able to use it. Second, you shall under no circumstances unless permitted sparing use your magic to harm or mess with your classmate in any way. That includes helping them by lending magic, because if you do that you’ll only hinder their growth which hurts them.” After she said those words a huge smile grew on her face as she greeted you both warmly, a stark contrast to her face now as she glared into your souls as you recited the two rules she put in place. 

“I know I said you would be out if you ever broke either of those rules, but seeing as how you two are some of my favorite students I’ve ever had, despite your constant bickering with one another, you both are seniors this year I won’t kick you out. It is also your first offence, so I won’t punish you both too harshly.” She finally moves from in front of you both to behind her desk at the whiteboard. “Now that all of that is settled let's start class shall we?”  

~

“DUCK!” Ms.Torrent yells as the cauldron in front of her starts to bubble ferociously. You and Sicheng immediately get under your respective lab tables eyes still towards the front preparing for the worst. Pretty soon the fushia colored liquid inside explodes the miniature mushroom cloud filtering out into the caricature of a duck. Ms. Torrent’s laughs fill the room at her joke and you can’t help but to let out some giggles as the duck slowly deforms when the smoke starts to disperse in the air. 

“Oh shoot, it’s almost time for class to be over. You both should be getting ready to head back now, but before you go don’t think I forgot about your punishment. I was going to do this myself when I got back from my trip in two weeks-I already told you both about it-but now I don’t have to. Tomorrow you both will come here and do my inventory, clean up, and herb scavenging for me. I will write down everything you need to know, so have a good day and I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” She says it with a blinding smile, as if she didn’t just ruin your weekend and your only off day.    

~

“Well hello my two beautiful apprentices. May I ask how your days have been before you guys get started?” With a head full of wild curls covered by a cliche witch hat Ms.Torrent enters the room with a satchel that clinks with every step she makes. A grunt leaves your mouth at the question, too tired to formulate an actual response. You were honestly surprised you were able to make it on time. You didn’t care to dress according to your usual school attire, instead opting out for gym shorts and a loose crop sweatshirt. 

You look over at Sicheng sitting quietly in his chair on the other side of the room for the first time today and see he also exchanged his usual leather jacket and jeans for a tight t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Honestly, if you didn’t hate this man with every fiber of your being, you would say he looks rather delectable right now. His t-shirt basically melded with his body and his sweatpants left nothing to the imagination when you looked at his strong thighs highlighting almost all of the muscles you knew he had, seeing as how he was captain of the soccer team in regular school. If you looked hard enough you could almost see a dick prin-.  

“Oh my, look at the time! I have to head out soon. Okay, so for one, you guys just have to clean up the place; you know, sweep, dust a little, and mop if you’re feeling crazy. Meanwhile for the inventory, I have made a list of the things I should have and exactly how much as of right now and I also made a list for the scavenging. I listed everything I need and exactly how much I need,” she says handing the paper to you. 

Taking a look at all the things she needs, you notice she doesn’t tell you where to get the stuff she needs. You stop her just before she walks out of the door. “Oh that, well I wouldn’t be your teacher if I didn’t help you get better at magic, and to do so I did not list where each plant could be found nor did I list the safest way to obtain them. That my dear little flounders is for you to figure out, I trust you won’t kill yourselves.” She winks as she shouts her departure before you hear a crackle in the sky and see lightning the color of the most vivid orange you had ever seen appear and disappear in the blink of an eye with Ms.Torrent.     

Looking over at Sicheng, you see his phone in his hand and realize he was more than likely too occupied with it playing games to realize what Ms.Torrent just said. “Hey come on, let’s get this over with. I want to go home and sleep as soon as possible,” you say to him, standing up, the sound of your chair squeaking against the floor before you walk over, grabbing the broom and duster out of the supply closet. 

Looking him in the eye, you toss him the broom and sit the duster on the teacher’s desk as you clean the whiteboard. You hear him stand up, and the sound of the broom sweeping against the floor echoes through the room. There’s a nice silence hanging in the air and neither of you dare to break it. Finishing up the whiteboard, you move to start dusting. Not looking where you’re going, you collide with a sturdy yet soft surface. A smell, a sort of calming masculine scent with a hint of spice and detergent hit your nose, and you looked up to see Sicheng staring back at you, eyes blazing, and as you inhaled more of the intoxicating scent you thought in your mind that it actually really fit him. 

“Watch where you’re going next time,” he says in a stiff voice whilst his hands go to your shoulders, moving you out of his way so that he can start on the inventory upstairs while he waits on you to finish dusting. You nod your head instinctively, not really processing what just happened. You decide to clean the surface of Ms.Torrent’s plants since you read somewhere that doing that helps with growth. Once you finish you start absentmindedly dusting anything you see, trying to think about something else. You’re almost done dusting seeing as how there wasn’t much dust on the bottom floor, you’ve already found yourself on the top floor when you make it to the shelves. Starting from the bottom, you dust the parts as Sicheng sweeps up near where you just got done dusting. 

You run into a problem when you can no longer reach the rest of the shelves to dust them because they’re too high up. Standing on your tiptoes, you feel your shorts ride up as you try your hardest to reach until you realize it's no use. You start casting a spell to clean the top when you feel a presence behind you and all of a sudden the heady smell invades your nostrils again, and you feel heat radiating from the body situated behind you.

“Let me help.” Sicheng’s strong voice reverberates through the quiet air and you can feel the vibrations from his chest on your back as one of his hands lands on your waist while the other takes the duster from your hands. You can feel the heat from his hand on your waist and for some reason it stirs something inside of you. His strong body is pinned against yours and you can feel just about every ridged curve on the surface of his skin. You’re so close together that you know your ass is lightly pressed against his crotch.  

The urge to grind against his covered dick is tempting and suddenly you come to your senses as you wonder what the hell you’re thinking. You quickly spin around in his arms to face him, placing your hands on his chest and your movement causes Sicheng to look down at you. “Uhh I-I’ll g-go get the herbs. Bye,” you ramble out as you shove him firmly to the side so that you could move from under him. You grab your rucksack and the list that she left and run down the stairs and out of the door. 

Walking in the woods got to be tiring so now you’re just floating swiftly but calmly, passing trees on the way. You’re a little ways from having all of the herbs on the list, only needing one more to finish. You had been scavenging for magic herbs and plants before, so you knew what type of places to look for most of the ones listed. You don’t really know what she meant by ‘the safest way to obtain them; so far you haven’t come across any troubles that could be a potential threat to your life. 

Looking at the time, you see it’s about midday. If you moved a little faster, hopefully you could be done before 3. Looking in a book of herbs, you see the name of the last one herb you have to get: the Spiky Skunkweed. It says that the skunkweed is known for its pungent rotting flesh odor. Some say it smells just like a dead skunk that emits up to a 5 mile radius. The only way one can even think of going near and hoping to obtain it is to stop the smell. “Five mile radius, huh?” you say out loud, sniffing the air to see if you smell anything similar to what you read. With no noticeable unpleasant odor, you determine that you don’t have the time to float around until you smell it. 

You open your grimoire and see if there’s a spell to enhance your sense of smell. “Found it.” Outburst of Senses, it increases your senses ten fold. Reading over the incantation method, you take the sacred oil and apply it to your nose preparing to voice the spell. You start chanting unrecognizable words to any who would hear as the oil on your nose starts to tingle. Casting consistently, you feel your sense of smell getting better; you’re now able to smell even the tiniest amount of dew sat upon the plants beneath your feet. The tingle on your nose has now resolved to an itchy burn and you look down, seeing that the spell is almost over. The last words of the incantation sit softly upon your lips as the burn on your nose dies down. 

Now with your magnified sense of smell, you’re able to quickly smell the Spiky Skunkweed almost as if it were right beside you. Speeding up your floating, you head in the direction of the scent. Even though the overpowering stench of the plant clouds your senses, you’re still able to enjoy the other bountiful amount of smells. Smells you had never smelt in your life hit your nostrils each giving different impressions. You could smell the twangy bitterness of Twin Winberries on a bush that was miles away from you so vividly you could almost taste it. The scent of the sickly sweet sap trapped inside of every other tree you passed was so strong that it almost made your stomach hurt just from thinking of eating it.      

The scent of the Skunkweed was getting stronger and your intensified smell was starting to work against you. The rancid odor of dead skunk slowly overtook everything until that was all you could smell. You felt like puking and turning back with how terrible it was, and pretty soon your eyes started to water as you got even closer; anymore and you would start gagging. Flipping the pages of the grimoire, you read how to get rid of the spell early. Exorcism of Senses, you had to take a purified cloth and rub the oil off of the applied area. 

Good thing you always carry a travel pack of purified cloth with you. Rubbing the oil off of your nose you felt a split second of relief from the putrid smell until it all came rushing back. You thought you had done something wrong until you realized that you were within the five mile radius and you could tell from how strong the smell still was despite not being as bad you figured you were getting close. Good thing you knew just which spell you were gonna use to get this smell away so you could get this herb. The words of an incantation quickly left your lips as you cast this spell as fast as possible because the scent was starting to make you get light headed and that caused your concentration to fade.    

A ring of pure white light appeared in your gathered hands keeping them in front of you as you walked. You managed to absorb the stench and clear a path for you to make your way to the plant. The fumes started to noticeably float in the air with you as you soon were able to see the plant you had to obtain. Ms. Torrent wants three stems and luckily that is exactly how many that grow in the spot. Using the ring to absorb the scent allowed you to be able to take your clippers and snip off three decently sized stems and place them in a glass bottle. Speeding back the way you came you come to a stop when you feel like you shouldn’t be able to smell the Skunkweed anymore. 

And when you realize it’s gone, you instantly fall to the ground, not caring about your knees and hands screaming from the impact, taking in the deepest breath you’ve ever had in your life. Your nose feels as if it’s about to fall off with how much it’s been through in such a short amount of time. Many deep breaths later you find yourself slumped against a tree attempting to stop the dizziness so that you can function. Your eyesight slowly clears up and you start to mumble a very familiar spell, one that you use at least once a day, Hex of Greater Healing. It’s a good thing you practice spells everyday and have a large stamina or else you’d be fucked. 

As the white aura surrounds your body you feel your nose start to hurt less as the spell speeds up the healing process. The scratches on your knees and hands also close themselves as you begin to feel less like shit. You’ve finally collected all of the herbs, you assume this is what Ms. Torrent meant by not killing ourselves. Well you’ve barely escaped that so you should head back now. With a snap of your fingers you start levitating again moderately heading back to the cottage. 

~

Wiping your mouth you rid the area of any excess berry juice. On the way back you decided to get a few bushels of Twin Winberries whilst also stopping by the waterfall to have a drink after the berries. You look at the time and see that only an hour and a half has passed since the last time you checked. You’re still good to leave early as long as Sicheng did his part while you were gone. Making your way to the wooden gate of the cottage you start to walk up the bridge your rucksack alerts whatever is by of your every step. Without thinking you slam the door rather loudly and right after you hear a glass shatter followed by an aggressive ‘Shit!’ 

“Aye yo Sicheng, are you okay up there? I’m back from scavenging. Did you finish dusting and sweeping? I wanna do this inventory and get outta here,” you say as you start to unload your bag. Sicheng’s loud footsteps echo as he basically races down the steps. 

“Why the fuck did you slam the door?!” Not expecting his sudden outburst you turn your head toward him with a partial stank face at his attitude. 

“The fuck crawled up your ass and died while I was gone?” 

“You just made me drop a potion I was checking for inventory in Ms. Torrents office because you for some reason decided to bust in here like you’re the council or some shit.” 

“Damn, my bad it was an accident; you don’t have to be such a dick about it,” you say, raising your hands before getting in a defensive stance. “Not like I could expect anything else from you though, seeing as how you’re always a dick.” 

“Oh so now you’re turning this around on me.” A dry laugh comes out of his mouth as he looks at you incredulously. “Of course little miss perfect can do no wrong, huh?” 

You and Sicheng were so occupied with your argument that you had forgotten all about the spilled potion upstairs. That is until it hit you. 

Standing face to face with Sicheng your body began to feel..different. The more you breathed in, the more you felt it. In the pit of your stomach a hunger unlike something you’ve ever felt before starts to formulate. You thought it was only you feeling different until Sicheng slowly leaned closer towards your face, causing you to lean back a little once you realized just how close he was. You started to feel his warm breath splay across your face heating it more than it already was. “W-What is going on? Do you feel a little different too?” You breathe out on a barely audible whisper. 

You know he heard you when he nodded yes, seemingly just as confused as you were “What exactly was the potion you wasted in Ms. Torrent’s room?” You ask the tall male trying to see what had you feeling so...aroused? The uncomfortable heat you felt between your legs had you attempting to rub them together discreetly. 

But that doesn’t go unnoticed Sicheng’s keen eyes pick up on your subtle movement. A few beats of silence go by, “I-I don’t know and frankly right now I don’t believe I care.” he finally says as his hands land on your waist. 

“Sicheng-”

“Don’t..Don’t say my name right now unless you want something bad to happen.” He says shutting his eyes tightly as if he were trying to keep himself from doing something he might regret. 

“Sicheng.” You bring your hand up to his cheek, slowly caressing it with your thumb, causing his eyes to flutter open. If someone had told you that you would be doing this an hour ago, you would’ve turned them into a frog and flew away cackling into the moon, but as his warm brownish black eyes stared intensely and honestly into yours, causing you to get even more flustered than you already were especially when you started to feel a wetness come about in your underwear, you knew you would be a fool if you didn’t take this shot. Of course, you could feel the tension between you and said male that always lingered, but you knew that you nor him would ever act on it without a shove from an outside force.

“Look at me.” He says making sure he has your full attention. “I’m gonna give you three seconds to stop me but once those are up, you’re mine.” His hand goes up to cup your chin gently as he starts to count. 

3

2

1

“C’mere.” His hands on your waist pull you to him as his mouth lands on yours. Your lips overlap, teeth clashing as all the pent up emotion is now flowing out in waves, coupled with the added intensity of what you’re beginning to assume is a very strong aphrodisiac; you guys just might rip each other apart.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he says, breaking your embrace. His hands move to your thighs, tapping to signal you to jump. Your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you to his lab table. Sitting you down, he starts to kiss you again softer yet somehow still with the same animalistic passion. His tongue slips into your mouth, caressing your tongue in the process. Wet smacks of your lips can be heard all throughout the room and the silky wetness of his tongue on yours has you releasing a hot breath.  

You pull a groan from his mouth as you start to grind against his stiff erection. It's almost as if it’s about to rip through his pants just to get inside you. Your hips gyrate as best as possible against him, coaxing him to join. He removes his lips from yours to kiss down your neck, slightly nipping as he goes. A moan falls from your lips as he kisses your neck, finding your sweet spot and causing the heat in your lower abdomen to increase. 

Your hand travels to the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up and off of him before you meld your lips together again. Finding their way lower, your hands start to massage his dick and a soft groan leaves his lips. “Suck my dick for me, baby.” And he doesn’t have to tell you twice before you’re already on your knees, pulling his pants down. “I don’t think you know many times I’ve wanted to shut this pretty mouth of yours up with my cock,” he says as his member slips out of his underwear, smacking against his abdomen. 

Giving it a few pumps, you immediately put him inside your mouth and get to work. The heat from his dick is so intense you think your tongue will burn as it slips past your lips. You circle your tongue around the head of his cock, flicking the hole on purpose when you feel his hand land on your head. “Can I fuck your mouth, princess?” Looking up at him, you moan at the mere thought of him fucking your mouth as if it was your wet cunt. 

You nod your head to signal yes so quick you fear you may get whiplash as your hand works its way down into your underwear. You start to rub your clit slowly, working yourself up. You’re so wet you swear you would drip on the floor if your bottom was bare. Sicheng’s hands come to your head, grabbing it firmly before he starts to thrust into your mouth, your spit flying everywhere. The sounds you make as his dick hits the back of your throat are all you can hear. 

One of your hands comes up to grip his muscular thigh, fingers digging into the skin in order to steady yourself from his thrusts. “Ohhh fuckkkk, this is good,” he moans, throwing his head back. “Don’t look at me like that, baby, or I’m gonna cum,” he says when he sees that you’re still staring at him. His thrusts stop right before he is about to cum. Refusing to let him stop like that, you take matters into your own hands. Letting go of his thigh, you grab his dick and start to swirl your tongue around his head, flicking under while constricting your cheeks. “Shit, baby stop. I-It’s too much, I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that--” He barely gets to finish his sentence before his cum spurts into your mouth. His moans that fill the air and the uncontrollable jerk of his hips cause you to whine under him as you swallow his cum. 

“Damn kitten, I thought I told you to stop. I would punish you but you look too delectable right now,” He says, lifting you up from the ground and putting you on the table. In the process of pulling your pants down he hears your voice. “What was that baby?” 

.

Usually you would have some sort of qualm about asking this but as you steadily intake more and more of the fragrant aphrodisiac all of your inhibitions get thrown out of the window as you practically beg, “Please let me ride your face.” 

You see him stop for a second before a slight blush spreads on his cheeks to his ears. Just the thought of you quivering in ecstasy on his face, getting yourself off, has him almost ready to cum again. Trading places with you, he puts his body on the table, getting comfortable despite his legs hanging off. He looks at you expectantly as he awaits you to sit atop your throne. You finish stripping yourself of your pants and your shirt and bra while you’re at it and move to get on his face. 

With a thigh on each side of his head, you lower yourself onto his face and the reaction is almost instant. One of Sicheng’s hands comes up to grab on your ass and while the other invades your juicy cunt and his tongue lands on your clit. The combined power of his wet muscle and fingers has you seeing stars. His fingers thrust into you, scissoring as he delves deeper inside. His tongue laps up the running juices that fall from your dripping hole as he preps you for his thick cock.  

Your hands shoot to his hair in an instant once he finds your g-spot, body convulsing from the stimulation. “You like that, babygirl?” he asks as his lips wrap around your clit, lightly sucking on the small bud before barely grazing his teeth against it. Your brain is so foggy you don’t even notice how he adds a third finger inside of you, thrusting rapidly as he flexes his wrist. The rough pads of his fingers rub against your g-spot over and over, causing your body to curl in on itself as you grip the hair on his scalp. You feel the climax strike before you know it, whimpers falling from your mouth and you’re just barely able to stay seated upright from the internal attack. 

Your body feels like jello as you try to remove yourself from Sicheng’s face before you suffocate him. “You taste so good kitten, that just about made me want to lick you dry,” he says, wiping the excess juices from his mouth.

A slow smile reaches across your features as you stand up, planting your hands on the table as you bend over, shaking your ass a little as you do. “Fuck me, please,” you ask, staring boldly into Sicheng’s eyes. And it was as if something shifted in the air because before you could ask again he was already behind you, inserting himself. 

It was like finally getting rid of an itch neither of you could reach. Moans and claps filled the room as he thrusts into you like an animal. The smack of his hips against yours feels extravagant. Your tits bounce as if they have a mind of their own. His balls hit your clit adding even more fuel to the fire. If you didn’t know any better you would think you both were in heat with the way he was ramming his cock into your tight snatch. 

“Fuck you’re so tight it’s like a soft vice is gripping my dick- Shit.” You never would’ve thought he could fuck you like this. Maybe it’s the added effect of the Aphrodisiac but you didn’t care either way. Even though deep down you wanted this to be real with everything in you you knew it wasn’t. His hands cup your tits as he lifts your top, half forcing you to stand back-to-chest. His lips land softly on your shoulder as his dick destroys you. The coil in your stomach strings ever-so-tight. The sudden way he bites your shoulder has you clenching onto him and you think that’s the last straw.

“Fuckkkk I’m gonna cum. Do that shit again, baby.” And you wholeheartedly agree with his statement. As you clench again you feel the band in your stomach snap and you’re met with a climax that almost surpasses the one earlier. His cum pours into you and you swear you’re on cloud 9. “Damn I’m still hard.” he spits and before you can think he has you back on the table this time in his lap. 

With his cock still stuffing you, he pulls your legs back behind you both so you’re sort of kneeling forward, and his hands tightly grip your sides as he brings you all the way back down. The sound that rips through your throat has anything within a 10 mile radius running for the hills. You feel the growl deep in his throat rumble against your back. It felt like he impaled you with his cock. He reached places you never knew existed.  

You have never felt so full in your life. Already having been filled with his seed, now he was fucking you again as if it is the last thing he would ever do, you feel like you were going crazy with ecstasy. The way his body feels against yours did nothing to help. The hard planes are a stark contrast with the soft--some would even say plushy--expanse of your body. You don’t even have to move seeing as Sicheng does that for you. He puts his arms to good use as he roughly lifts you up only to smack you against his hips. You knew they would probably be bruised in the morning. 

You feel like you’re gonna pass out from all of this. It’s too much for you to take in all at once, especially after you had already almost had a near death experience earlier. You throw your head back onto his shoulder as you contemplate if you could cum again, the overstimulation starting to kick in as you get even more sensitive. “Sicheng. I-I don’t think I can cum again,” you slur against his ear looking up at the male.

“Last one baby, I know you can do it,” he says looking at you. His thrusts speed up as he tries to hurry and get you both to the end. Your consciousness started to slowly fade as you felt what would be your last orgasm of the night. With a broken moan Sicheng cums one last time as you feel your body start to shake as you experience the most explosive orgasm yet your eyes roll to the back of your head as you fade into black. 

      ~

The feeling of soft sheets feels heavenly against your body. You awaken to find yourself in a bed somewhere unknown. You notice a shirt and underwear covering your body as you sit up and take in your surroundings. At that moment Sicheng walks in from a door in the room. “Oh you’re awake, finally.” Sliding into bed next to you, he wraps his arms around your waist, sticking his head in the crook of your neck. 

Your hands lay on top of his as you slightly turn your head. “Where are we?” you ask, looking at his hair. 

A muffled, “My house,” comes from the boy’s mouth, and you don’t have a chance to react before he pulls you down to lay on him. Looking up at his ceiling, you wonder if you should ask this or not. 

“What does this make us?” Sicheng asks, tightening his grip on you, taking the words right out of your mouth. “Because I actually... really like you, and I want to go out with you.” Turning your head, you look up at the attractive male, intently listening to what he has to say. “I know it may not sound true but I’m serious when I say I really do like you. I have for a while now, I just didn’t have the courage to make a move until we were under the effects of the aphrodisiac.” 

“I-I guess I like you too. At least, I’m willing to date you and see where this goes,” you say, laying your head back on his chest, sighing at the calmness of the moment. “One thing though. I think we should both apologize to each other. We’ve both said some hurtful things and I don’t want to start a relationship with that.” Turning over in his arms you look him in the eyes sitting your chin on his chest. “I’m sorry for saying the things I did. I admit I shouldn’t have said them and they were wrong.” 

“Come here,” he says, lifting you up to kiss your lips. “You’re so cute. I’m sorry as well. I don’t really know anything about you or what you faced, and I shouldn’t have said anything.” You guys are a breaths width away till your lips softly meet again.

“So, uhh, what are we gonna tell Ms. Torrent about the missing bottle of aphrodisiac?” 

[pale-goblin]

A Little Twisted.

Chapter One: The King

Co written w/ @desertdwellerdanny

  It was late, later then Steve wanted to leave work. Working for his father’s business had been the worst mistake of his life. The long hours, business trips, and paperwork killed him. The only thing that added fun to his life was his body count and not in a sex way. Every business trip, he left a crime scene behind; it was an excellent hobby, a fun game. 

As Steve unlocked his car that was parked in the darkness of the street, he heard sounds coming from the alleyway—harsh breaths and muffled screams paired with the tell-tell sounds of struggle. There, barely visible in the alley between two abandoned shops, was a tall man dressed in dark denim and golden strands that fell over his shoulders in beautiful curls. He was pretty, despite, or maybe because of, the deep scowl etched into his features. The closer Steve looked, it seemed there was another person there, pushed up against the man and the dirty brick of the wall.

The curiosity got the better of him, and rather than sidle back into his car to drive 40 minutes to a dull house with boring people and boring television; he found his feet carrying him closer. Steve was friends with the shadows, staying well within them to edge closer to the struggle. It was when he had just made it to the opening of the alley that he heard the all-too-familiar crunch of bone and a strangled scream for help that sounded more gurgle than yell. The man was standing, staring down at the body and the bloodied mess he’d made of the wall and his hands. Shining, wet blood covered the front of him, splatters adorning the smooth skin of his face.

It was gorgeous. He was gorgeous.

Steve watched the rage boiling in the man’s face turn sour, listening to him swear under his breath. His blood-covered hands reaching for his blonde curls to smooth it out of his face. Steve smiled in the alley’s dim light. Seeing the reaction of a man’s first kill was titillating to witness. 

Steve’s first kill was cleaner, more planned, and he was 12. He had many years to fine-tune his skills and make sure he was hidden from people’s noses, Of course, unless he was too excited like now. Steve hadn’t noticed the can at his feet which he kicked into the dead body when he shifted his weight. 

The man got spooked, and in fear of losing this beautiful man, he put his hands up, showing himself.

“Wait, Wait, don’t run.”

The man’s hands were shaking, slight tremors running up and down his spine as he took Steve in. Those sharp, light eyes dragged over his suit-clad figure, and if Steve had been the type of man to blush, his cheeks would be dusted pink with the intense attention the man gave him.

“Who- I didn’t. He was,” his voice cracked, wide, terrified eyes looking down at the bloodied mess the victim’s face was, “What did I do?”

“Looks like you killed him,” Steve said calmly, eyeing the man’s messy job. “Poorly, I might add,” Steve kneeled, being careful not to get blood on himself. “Good spot though, dark alley, broken cameras.” Steve eyed the area, breaking it down for himself to see how easy this would be to cover up.

The man’s eyebrows furrowed, his body screamed defensive, waiting for Steve to shout or call the cops or something. But he didn’t.

“Who are you?” He spat, top lip pulling up into a snarl. He looked like a cornered animal, faced with a variable that had the ability to ruin him. Hell, he’d murdered someone in a blind rage—he’d already been ruined if it wasn’t for Steve, and isn’t that a nice little bit of luck.

Steve smiled when he locked gazes with the fear-filled blue of the man’s eyes. “Seems like I’m your guardian angel.” Steve winked—the excitement building in his chest was impressive; honestly, he was kind of turned on by all of this. “Wait here; I have a kit in my car. I promise I’m here to help you.”

The man stood flabbergasted, the blood coating the front of his shirt and up and down his arms starting to chill with the cold wind. Steve turned and made his way back to his car, nonchalant and even a slight spring in his step, the blond stranger left in the disturbing quiet of the alley. The silence was deafening, and it roared in the man’s ears.

Steve returned moments later, holding a large black case, wearing a rudder-looking apron and gloves. He had a smile on his face that seemed not to fade. "Can I ask you some questions? About this friend of yours, about tonight?" Steve placed the case on the ground, wondering if this was weird for him, this well-dressed stranger who happens to be a psychopathic murderer. "What's your name?”

The man’s mouth dropped open a bit, taking Steve even before giving a small, unbelieving chuckle and mumbling what the fuck under his breath. “You’re a nutcase, aren’t you?” He gave Steve a cautious side-eye before facing him head-on, meeting his gaze, “You can call me Neil. And that,” he said, pointing at the body, “is not my friend. But ask away if you gotta.”

Steve completely ignored Neil's stab at him for being 'crazy' Steve wasn't crazy—far from it.

"Did you have sex with him?" Steve mumbled as he pulled out a plastic sheet from his case and laid it on the ground.

Billy licked his lips nervously, hands tightening into fists at his side. “No! N-no,” he hesitated, stomach rolling uncomfortably at recalling what had made him do… this… in the first place, “He was trying to— he put something in my drink. But it must’ve been weak or some shit because I could still move. Kinda. I came-to here and kinda, just,” his nostrils flared with fury, eyes even beginning to blur with tears just remembering. He didn’t want to remember. “I didn’t give him the chance to.”

Steve snorted at himself as he dragged the body onto the sheet. Not at Neil's misfortune but the fact that he helped throw the defense case out the window if he got caught. "Then good riddance to this ass hole--" Steve went through the victim’s pants, pulling out a wallet but no car keys. Sad, he couldn't make it look like a car crash. "-- Mr. Bates." Steve read the ID in the wallet, pressing his lips together with a chuckle, "not anymore."

“Bates? That’s his name?” Neil gave an unbelieving laugh, giggles pouring out of him, quickly turning into hysterics, “Oh god. I’m sorry, it’s just. Like that one movie? American Psycho? Bates?” He covered his mouth with a trembling hand to quiet the chuckles forcing their way out of him, “Guess it’s not him that’s the killer this time, though.”

Steve loved hearing the laughter pouring out of Neil's mouth. It was sweet and gave Steve goosebumps just listening to it echo off the walls. He kind of forgot to give his name. He was still tied up in the blood and the blue of this man's eyes. "I'm Ste--no- uh Steve" Steve stumbled the words out of his mouth, giving Neil his real name with so much trust. His beautiful face was throwing Steve off his game.

Neil squinted at him, chuckles finally calming down a bit as he watched Steve work. “Steve,” he said slowly as if testing how the name tasted on his tongue. He must’ve approved because he nodded once before leaning back against the wall opposite to where he’d bashed the man’s head in and slid to the ground. He stretched his legs out, his foot just barely touching the body’s foot, and gave a little kick before letting his head thump back against the brick. “Well, what the fuck are we gonna do, Steve.”

        "Well, I'm taking this man home with me" Steve rolled the guy in the plastic sheet just not to make a mess of his car. "Since this was not planned, I will have to figure out how to get rid of the body, but we will clean up the blood and…" Steve's eyes flicked over Neil's body as he sat on the ground, which made Steve let out a disappointed sigh "...and we will get you cleaned up at my house."

“You’re literally helping hide a murder right now,” Neil raised an eyebrow at him, weariness pulling his features down and narrowing his eyes, “Why, pray tell, the fuck should I trust you enough to get into your car?”

Neil was on edge, hackles raised and expecting the worst from Steve. He’d narrowly avoided being attacked already tonight and instead managed to become a murderer in that short amount of time. 

“For one, you don’t have to trust me, and I don’t expect you too” Steve pulled a spray bottle out of the case. “But I’m the only chance you have right now” Steve kind of felt like he was

forcing Neil to come with him, but he wasn’t. If Steve wanted to have his way, Neil would have been knocked out and hogtied in the back of his car. Steve started cleaning the blood off the walls taking his time even though no one probably came down here much unless they were also criminals. 

Neil let his head thump back against the wall again, closing his eyes. His stomach was cramping with anxiety, and he still felt sick from earlier—the panic and disgust of being so vulnerable settled like lead in his chest.

“Maybe,” he peeked one eye open, lazily watching Steve scrub and spray at the chunky red mess on the wall, “Once I know for sure you’re not gonna fuck me over.” Neil still felt the fear clawing its way up from his chest, and yet in that mess of emotions, not one of them was guilt over what he had done. It had felt...right to kill him. Good, even.

Steve enjoyed the clean-up more than the kill itself; it added some kind of normal part to it for him. Steve never felt guilt but knew he wasn’t normal, but he didn’t care if he was. Steve looked back at the guy exhausted against the wall of the alley. “The anxiety will pass,” Steve mumbled, giving him a shy smile. “Then you will taste true freedom.”

Neil snorted, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “You sound like you’ve done this before, pretty boy. Run into a lot of murders, do you?”

Steve laughed. “I don’t run into a lot. It’s not like we have a club or anything,” Steve cleaned up the last bit on the wall before moving to where the body has been sitting. “But, I have done this before, 42 times counting helping you; I’ve even got a fancy killer name now.” 

Neil’s eyebrows shot up, face sobering, “Really now?” He looked nervous. Funny almost, like there’s a difference between killing 42 or 1 with his bare hands. “And what would that be? How so many?”

Steve licked his lips as he looked up at Neil. “They call me the King; I haven’t been caught because I don’t kill in the same city twice in the same year. They only connected the dots a few months ago.”

Neil’s eyes grew big, mouth propping open as he took in the killer who had just started to take over just about every news story as of late. “Holy fuck. Bullshit.” he sat up against the wall, pushing up off of it to stride over to Steve as if getting a better look at the man would help him make the connection to a faceless serial killer. “And you’re helping me? Now?” his face screwed up in confusion, taking yet another step towards Steve, “Why?” he said quietly, peering into his eyes as if trying to find the answers to all the questions clogging his brain there.

Steve shrugged. “My life is boring, and you’re just the excitement I needed today.” Steve stood up and finally finished the rest of the work. He watched Neil check him out, trying to figure out what was not very hard if you knew how to look. “Do I scare you?”

Neil didn’t answer right away, keeping his intense eye contact and considering the question with a low hum. “No. You don’t.” He settled on, stating it firmly and with conviction. Steve was terrifying, but the shine in Neil’s eye confirms that he would rather die than let him know that.

Steve made a face when he looked interested more than he was before in Neil. "Well, come on then" Steve put his stuff away, closing the case up and handing it to Neil with a wink, "unless you want to get caught, that is" Steve smiled faded at the possibility that Neil could just say no and run, but Steve would make sure his actions had consequences.

Fortunately, it seemed Neil had better common sense than that and hesitantly stepped forward to take the case. “You look like you know what you’re doing. I’d rather take your lead than to spend the next 30 years in prison.” Neil replied in perfect deadpan. He wasn’t a fool—he knew what happens to boys like him if he was targeted before being in a building full of men with his being as pretty as he was… well, that’s just asking for trouble, isn’t it?

Steve smiled. "Smart boy." Honestly, Steve would have so much fun with this guy; maybe they would even kill together. Hmm, the idea of that, the excitement of it. 

Steve picked up the body, throwing it over his shoulders like it was nothing to him--it was unfortunate he would have to get rid of his suit because of this. Hunting in clothes you wear is never a good idea with fibers getting everywhere. 

"My car's not far."

Neil slowed, eying how easily Steve had manhandled a grown man’s dead weight. He wasn’t sure if that added to the intimidation or stirred something in him. Neil gave his head a slight shake before gripping the case in his hands tighter and following Steve back out to his car.

It was a fancy thing, sleek black and probably more expensive than Neil had ever owned or even touched.

Steve opened the trunk of the car and placed the body down into it. Honestly, all of this tonight made him yearn for another hunt, but he wasn't going on another trip for a few weeks. 

Steve let out a sigh as he grabbed the case from Neil and put it in with the body, and removed the extra attire he was wearing. 

"Get in the back seat. I already put a sheet down for you" Steve opened the back door like a gentleman. Steve wondered what Neil was feeling, how much excitement was kicking in? Did he feel good? Steve always enjoyed the thrill of it all, but he wanted to know how other people thought.

Neil pulled a face at his commanding tone, but climbed in anyway, face passive save for his ears’ tips that flushed a pretty red. “M, not a damn dog, yknow,” he mumbled out, although he understood the reasoning given the front of his shirt was splattered in blood.

He shuffled in, careful not to touch anything that wasn't the plastic sheet lining the inside of the car. “What’re you going to do with him?” he asked quietly, the meekest Steve’s seen him all night. 

Steve got out into the car’s front seat and fixed his mirror to see Neil in the back seat, getting to see him in a slightly better light before the overhead light in the car went out as he turned the car on. “Well, dump his body somewhere in a few days,” Steve smiled, thinking about how he could take credit for it. “Maybe cut something into his skin, take the top of his skull, and put it on my wall.”

It’s not something that’s been disclosed by the cops yet, at least not officially. Reporters have spread the news like cockroaches in hidden corners, whispering about how the serial killer King takes the crown of the victims’ scalps. It’s terrifying, really. Neil narrows his eyes a smidge.

“Why do you do it?”

Steve had never thought about why he did what he did; he only started doing it three victims into this game of his. Sometimes he does it when the people are still alive, watching the fear dripping from their eyes until the shock sets in. 

“They don’t deserve a crown.”

Neil hummed, “Who deserves a crown, then?”

Steve pulled out of the parking spot, locking eyes with Neil in the mirror. “I do.”

Neil held his gaze—feeling trapped by Steve’s shockingly clear brown eyes, and yet he felt no struggle or want to break out of it.

Neil is prey. Interesting, pretty, entertaining prey.

And Steve was going to eat him alive just to force him to submit to him. To admit how scared he is of The King.

Co written w/ @desertdwellerdanny

[spookyshake]

*proceeds to do exactly everything but work on my pets* H-have some faeries and lore dump I had rotting in the cabinet

[Light Faerie - Justine] A stern light faerie who manages Faerieland's treasury. Rules and regulations are her creed, and she will not allow any misdeed under her watch.

Despite her uptight demeanor, she has a peculiar fondness for games of chance. She seems to have an unwavering confidence in the certainty of numbers- and the dice, once cast, are fair and absolute arbitrators in her eyes. Of course, it could just be that she's addicted to gambling. When there's no clear protocol for a situation, she opts to flip coins and leave it to luck and happenstance.

-Fwaku's life was saved by Justine, who had happened to be passing by the area. She decided to flip a coin to determine his fate- and as luck would have it, he would survive. -The townspeople that had found Fwaku suggested that Justine should give the draik a name. The exchange probably went something like this: Townspeople: Thank you great faerie!! Would you give the honor of naming this child you just saved????? Justine: (uh shit) Give me a moment. *furious dice rolling* Justine: I grant this child the name...F..W...Q...Fwaku. Townspeople: WOW!! WHAT AN HONOR!!

(What kind of name is Fwaku......)

-While Fwaku is generally irreverent and unlikable to most parties he comes across, he displays a great deal of respect towards Faeries because of his background. Justine, in her act of saving and naming Fwaku, also unwittingly left him with a strange blessing: he has extremely good luck to the point of absurdity, which has saved his skin from karmic retribution countless times in the past.

---

[Fire Faerie - Heliae] A go-getter fire faerie with a particularly strong affinity to her element. Still young for a faerie, she has trouble controlling her excessive energy and often bursts into flames when she's excited.

Fun-loving but a bit careless, she loves to attend concerts, festivals, and other events where crowds gather...a serious fire hazard waiting to happen. She doesn't seem to fully grasp the danger she poses to those around her, and was originally sequestered away in Faerieland before she decided to run away- as you do, when you're a young faerie whose had your freedom denied.

Very explosive. very explosive. very explosive.................................

---

[Earth Faerie - Lottie] A lax but cryptic earth faerie who appreciates tranquility. She wandered into Kiko Lake some long time ago, and has since stuck around trying to achieve what she calls 'perfect bliss.' Generally found quietly meditating and contemplating her surroundings- usually with sweets and a cup of borovan as accompaniment. Her perception of time seems to be a little out of sync with the world around her.

Though usually impassive and calm, she hates above else having her peace and quiet disturbed. She will, with a quiet but tremendous fury, catapult raucous intruders out the window. Her longest recorded throw was over a mile! So impressive is her throwing skill, that kiko children often dare one another to see who can get flung the farthest.

-Because the architecture around Kiko Lake are built with kikos in mind, it's not uncommon to see the faerie bump her head on the door frames and ceilings. Fortunately, there's also never a shortage of bandages in the vicinity.

[Dover] Brown Kiko. Ever since Lottie began living on their family land generations back, their crops have prospered- especially asparagus. Now, the family is in the Borovan business, exporting premium blends of chocolate and asparagus for which Kiko Lake is now famed.

Dover isn't the kiko's real name- that was the name of his great great grandfather, but Lottie doesn't seem to make a distinction. All of her little helper kikos are 'Dover' to her. His job is to run around fulfilling Lottie's errands, whether that be procuring snacks or chasing pesky kids out of her yard.

---

[Dark Faerie - Alluce] A vain dark faerie living near Neovia, known to kidnap Neopets to force into servitude. She periodically terrorizes the citizens of Neovia to spread her influence. She wants, above all, to be feared and revered! ...but her actual ambitions tend to be quite small and petty. Knowledgeable about mirrors and magic involving them.

Though she revels in garnering fear, she's rather full of fears and cares herself- the thought of the true horrors lurking within the depths of the Haunted Woods makes her quiver. All smoke and mirrors, no bite.

-Doesn't get along well with Clariote. Alluce can't maintain her high-and-mighty mistress of evil theatrics against Clari's general irreverence. ABSOLUTELY D I S R E S P E C T F U L

---

[Air Faerie - Nephele] A fickle air faerie scout with a light-hearted but arrogant demeanor. One of the faeries tasked by Justine to recover Faerieland's lost artifacts, which were scattered across the lands in the aftermath of the Faerie's Ruin. Holds a strong belief that Neopets are lesser beings, considering them to be incompetent without Faeries.

Rand (Faerie Tonu) and  Bell's (Faerie Tuskaninny) supervisor. She usually leaves the Neopets to do all the dirty work and takes credit for their efforts, usually under the justification that Neopets 'owe' the Faeries anyways.

---

[Social Media Faerie - Papilla] A young faerie, rare in her time (Einse’s Future). Big-time celebrity and social media influencer, she loves travelling Neopia and blogging about her adventures (and promoting sponsored products.) Has a great love towards Neopets and lives life at her fullest interacting with them, but holds feelings of isolation due to being perhaps the last known faerie in Neopia. She’s invested in discovering why Faeries have all but disappeared in her time, and spends some of her time flitting across Neopia looking into the matter. She has a terrible sense of humor, and she sometimes has strange fits where she floods her social media with incomprehensible jokes and memes- terrorizing her followers’ feeds. She does all this in earnest, thinking her jokes are hilarious, but her fans generally think she’s just trolling and get a kick out of it. This creates a strange cycle of positive reinforcement as Papilla continues to get many reactions from her bad jokes, reinforcing her confidence in her humor. SOMEONE STOP THIS FAERIE

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

[The dynamic between Faeries and Neopets] Neopets aid Faeries, Faeries grant blessings. The dynamic between Neopets and Faeries is mutually beneficial, for the most part.

-Power of belief is essential to grant power to a Faerie's magic. Neopets, by helping Faeries on the premise that they will receive a reward or be granted a blessing, creates a transaction of belief. This is the premise of Faerie quests, which plays a vital role in powering the barrier that protects Neopia from wraiths (among other things.)

-Faeries are perhaps better defined as 'memetic' as opposed to 'elemental'- their magic is framed on a concept or idea, which relies on the belief/understanding/recognition of the themes surrounding the idea in question. The more wide-spread and strongly understood the idea, the greater the manifestation of a faerie's magic. (Motes, though simpler entities, also work on the same logic)

The basic elements, for example, are widely and easily understood as a concept- which may be why the majority of the faerie population falls in this category. (Something like a singular 'Fire' Faerie, for example, would probably be TOO POWERFUL AN IDEA to contain as a single being, so instead there's just a lot of them.)

-Names are very important, because they give shape to a concept or idea. -When they're cut-off from belief, they lose strength (Bottled Faeries) -They can shrink! Probably to conserve magic. -A Faerie without wings is essentially unheard of (with the special exception of Water Faeries). Taking away their wings is one of the most heinous things you can do to a Faerie. -Faeries are born spontaneously? Most of them just appear one day out of the ether or whatever. -They're ageless and nigh immortal

they're......the OG gijinkas <-- hold on this is actually somewhat relevant but that's a story for another time

[Shenkuu - A curious case study of Kaia, the Shenkuu Faerie] Kaia the Shenkuu Faerie appeared spontaneously in a relatively recent timeframe- probably within an average Neopian lifetime. She's a young faerie, younger than most of her kind. She's in the same category as Jhuidah and Taelia- faeries with a strong conceptual connection to the land they watch over.

There are no other (known) faeries in Shenkuu, which implies that the faerie population in Shenkuu is very low or...non-existent? At the very least, it can be said that Faeries are novel in Shenkuu, given that Kaia mentions how everyone stares at her. If we go a step further, we could postulate that Faeries, as a concept, isn't a part of common knowledge in Shenkuu as a whole.

Almost as if the concept of 'Faeries' have never existed here...?

-Shenkuu was a land that had barred itself from the outside world for an undetermined amount of time. The land only recently opened their doors to the rest of Neopia (Cyodrake's Gaze) (*in my lore I'm pinning that down to like 10~15 yrs ago for character reasons but passage of time in Neopia is not very well defined so.... shrugs) -It can be assumed that there was still some exchange occurring with the outside at a smaller scale (Airship merchants, travellers who ended up in or out of Shenkuu by happenstance, Neopians living in areas close to but not quite in Shenkuu proper, etc) -Assumably, Shenkuu has a history perhaps dating back to the heyday of Altador and other 'ancient' civilizations (1000+ years) -This creates a situation where: a. There never were faeries to begin with in Shenkuu or b. There used to be faeries, but they disappeared from Shenkuu AND from common knowledge

-Kaia's manifestation may have been the direct result of the opening of Shenkuu to Neopia- with the arrival of outside trade and ideas, so too did the knowledge of Faeries. Once the faerie 'meme' took hold in Shenkuu, where there was a void of Faeries, it took form as the Shenkuu Faerie: Kaia. This is why she's so young as a faerie- she probably spawned sometime between Cyodrake's Gaze and the present day. (Alternatively, she might have existed in Shenkuu before the events of Cyodrake's Gaze but I think it still holds that she popped up in a pretty recent timeframe.) Kaia herself only seems to know Faeries through the knowledge she received from travelers.  

[chyuans]

          hello , hello  !   first of all ,  i’m super excited to be here even if i’m like 10 hrs LATE  ( gmt timezone things )  i’m noe ,  a gay  they / them at the age of 19 ,  and this privileged lil disappointment of a jock boy is gonna be filling the position of kong_01 . despite the rumours ?  yuanjun’s actually not nearly as bad as some of the people he’ll be meeting here >:)  but you’ll get to know more about that below  !  if you’d like to plot just light up that HEART , or add me on disc*rd which i’ll give out in im’s , where i’m infinitely faster .  if i’m not gaming .  no tw’s under the cut  .

* backstory. > many people know of yuanjun, but few people truly know him. he's the famous kong families’ son, heir to the kong legacy, now forward position for south korea men’s national hockey team - which brought forth a ton of international fame from back home and amongst hockey lovers worldwide. while his talent is undeniable, he is long overshadowed by his families’ accomplishments, forever reminded that he’d never be the perfect son they’d hoped for, and no one ever lets him forget it.

> being the child of business tycoons who’s art business seemed to never be on the decline, tended to lend itself to an unconventional, pretty lonely childhood. 

> although jun no longer wants to dabble in the stupid shit he probably did as a teen, and escape from their home in a childish fit of rage and make the lives of the various nannies that tended to him while his parents were off being great hell, he still wonders sometimes whether this profession is what he would’ve wanted if he’d just not wanted to spite his parents. he loves hockey - that fact is undeniable. he thanks the nanny who took him there once out of necessity to stop his whining, and he fell in love with it almost instantly. but he also questions whether he gravitated to it because it was something he could throw himself into wholeheartedly to fill a void.

> he's very open to different types of people, and after being scouted at 19 and having a massive shift both in culture and identity as he then begun to travel worldwide, he’s a tiny bit more wordly now than he was back then. he's much more concerned about who you are underneath than superficial appearances, which means developing relationships are few and far between, because a lot of people do approach him because of his fame/fortune. he's unjudgemental to the point where his friends worry about his naivety and how easily he trusts people, but he's absolutely not dumb, just very well versed on telling good people from the bad.

> jun may even come across as naïve, but he's very aware of that perception is nearly important as reality. he's not extroverted in a way that demands conversation, but he knows how to talk to anyone from any background even if its just to maintain pleasantries. after competing in various competitions and versing players from canada to japan, he's become much more sharp and ambitious, a guy who very rarely lets distractions take their course. perhaps it’s with this that his family loathe his choices all the more, with his appetite, he was born with the skills required to run a business - pity he never took to anything of the creative sort.  

> working in a fast, stressful, highly coveted job such as pro-sports is a full time job and then some; jun doesn't spend much time not working on it. outside of his schedule, he likes bettering his stamina at the gym and eating healthy. he likes being surrounded by authentic people or nobody at all. he’s not one for trying new things and having new experiences due to time management, tending to stick to a schedule.

> he gets a lot of bad press though, which is beginning to weigh a little heavy on him. doubly now the murder has people talking. from being accused of performance-enhancing pills, various personality scandals, to being linked with ‘dating’ (see: ruining the image of) idols and chaebol’s alike. right now, he’s currently battling a lot of unwanted publicity because of a misunderstood interaction online against a wealthy sweetheart that went sour. 

> while jun might be generally unsympathetic and analytical when it comes to developing relationships with people that’ll last long-term, he's a bleeding heart when it comes to kids who may have experienced the same lonely upbringing as he did, without the financial gains. right now he spends sunday’s teaching a bunch of local foster home kids how to skate, and is trying to fund a couple of sports scholarships for those who show promise under a fake name, just generally being a good ‘ole guy.

> his family do not approve of his job, ofc. in fact neither of his parents have ever attended any of his matches to this day, and are only on semi-decent terms with him because jun begrudgingly is still tied by name to the business and shows his face at events for all of 30 minutes until he physically can no longer maintain pleasantries. his celebrity image perhaps is one thing they can manipulate, and even then, jun could get into scandals galore and still be doing his job. good press, bad press, it has the kong’s family name at the forefront of peoples’ minds, which always brings forth revenue.  

> pros: could be a lot worse considering his upbringing, collected, and level-headed most of the time. wicked good at sports, and keeps a cool head in a tough situation. ambitious, curious, a little reckless. eager to prove himself, rich? and very endeared to people/places he finds fascinating. which are many. knows where the good, authentic chinese cuisine is. hardworking and very interested in the idea of Progress.

> cons: the most private person alive, will not divulge any palatable information about himself or his feelings. devil's advocate always. will put himself and others at an arm’s length the second he feels (disgusted noises) e-emotions (love, namely). gets bored easily. paranoid, leads with the head more than the heart. friends > > > family. a little self-involved, never fucking sleeps - will be that neighbour you can hear padding around above your apartment at 3.05 am like it’s mid-day, aaaaand Loves Winning Above All Else

* personality & relationships.

> like many others, jun has his fair share of surface-level friends. he’s quick to be interested in people, to get to know them better, but it's difficult for him to get closer than that after a childhood of being picked up and dropped by those who looked over him - which kinda has left him with abandonment issues.

> he’s a curator of neat things that aren’t too overtly complex, and that includes friendships. so if you have something unusual about you, whether it's a talent or a way of thinking, he would be inclined to get to know you better. also, he has a lot of leverage with his job. being friends with a sports star slash million dollar trust fund baby who can get you free shit never hurts, just don’t befriend him for the perks, yanno?

> jun is very dedicated to his vision of things, and can sometimes be very obstinate in the way he a) wants them to be done b) doesn't accept other options, think steve jobs. he's very mercurial and can be nice one minute but isn't afraid to switch to hardass boss to get things done and did.  > he is insanely competitive and his strive is drawn out by always wanting to be on top. truly first child material. that's the kind of guy he is, with standards that do not reflect his passive side too well, which sometimes can get him into some “personality” scandals. he is driven, motivated, always looking for ways to be winning.

> i'm sure someone is bound to hate him, he’s probably got a few accounts online dedicated to a steady stream of shit-talking, given his cutthroat status or holding many hockey cups.

> jun doesn’t think too much about his sexuality - he'd probably best be labelled as pan, but leans towards those who identify as women? because of his current placement in a workspace, and with a cultural identity, that both don’t often lend themselves to lgbtq+ rights, i doubt he’d ever make that public.

> he works amongst some of the fittest people in the world, he knows how to appreciate beautiful bodies, but he's not about to discriminate. he's tragically a committaphobe and isn't interested in anything long-term right now, although i think it'd be funny if someone tried. he's very open for flings and one-night stands and even a friends with benefits sort of set up. 

* wc’s.  >  bring me his baby bro and sis. i command u. i have many thoughts  >  somebody who maybe gets in on his foster-kid situation? idk maybe they have a perception of jun being what he is in the articles they read of him, but they see him and are like <3_<3 he actually real Nice huh. i see this being romantic but it could bloom a really nice, wholesome friendship too. >  enemies. not gonna lie, he doesn’t vibe with rich kids w / a stick up their ass, especially since a lot of the people he works with aren’t from exorbitant families. people who loathe him for declining to take over his families’ business? like the boy can’t even name more than 3 artists off of the top of his head?   > fwb except neither of them know what “just friends” mean.  > i would love if jun had a confidante. a best friend, a partner in crime, a total bromance 'cause i can never get enough of those. whatever label you ‘wanna put on it. wiping up each other’s messes. maybe a Betrayal in the works  > again, gonna be a wc, but i would love a “rival” of jun's on a similar level (or bigger)  that’s entirely fabricated based off of trashy articles or a misunderstood interaction online. bonus points if they’re an absolute sweetheart, well loved by most people, and generally the antithesis of jun with his multiple drug/personality rumours, which in contrast, make him seem like the bad guy. 

> party buddy. this guy hasn’t touched alcohol/cigarettes/any other stimulants since he was underage and wanted to rebel. the word “relax” does not exist in his vocabulary. Help

[hazbinextgeneration]

Into The Casino Ch16

(WARNING: Fight scenes including hair pulling and a death is contained within this chapter as well as past abuse mentioned. If this makes you uncomfortable please don't read. You have been warned.) What happened on the way home was..Well...Interesting to say the least. The strange warm feeling in his chest still hadn't gone away even after they were leaving. The gal feeling exhausted enough to fall asleep against his shoulder and ONLY because he was a gentleman, he wrapped an arm around her and allowed her to lean against him on the way home. Cyber was a little confused on his silence and the face he made as he glanced out the window on the way back, but she chalked it up to him calculating about the new possible deals he could make or perhaps maybe he was thinking about how to con someone over again. He had that hard thinking face over him and it was best to let him think at times. So she didn't argue when the limo finally stopped in front of their home, and he lightly shook the sleeping beauty awake. Her purple eyes blinking and she yawned tiredly, and he told Cyber to go take her back and make sure she got some rest. Thankfully Leaving Minight in charge with Disease following her orders was a grand idea. No harm was done to the place while they were gone. ....Sleep didn't come easy to him that night surprisingly but he managed. The next day was like it didn't even happen. In fact it was very normal. He got up, gave the usually orders to everyone who would get their assignments from him and told her the small list of personal things he needed her to be done that day. Which included cleaning out his office, but he made sure that all the valuable souls were very well secured and locked away where only he or Cyber could retrieve them. She smiled brightly and agreed as usually before trotting on her merry way...but this time that small warm feeling returned...he shrugged it off and continued onto the floor with Cyber. Business as usually.

Except the day after that the small feeling happened again. And again. And Again. And again. AND AGAIN!! Before he knew it nearly a month had passed with that strange small warm feeling in his chest was still there whenever he spoke to her, but he simply ignored it as he had better things to get done. Until one day he had a knock at the office door. He looked to the door for a moment before looking back down to the papers in his hands.

"Come in. Door's open." Well the door did open and in stepped the timid creature. He was a bit surprised she of all people would come in at this time of day, but he gave that famous smile none the less. "Aw, Pet.~ Hello, my dear. What can I do for you today? Is Disease bothering you again?"

She didn't answer straight away, but still gave a small smile. "N-No. I actually wanted to ask you something.''

"Ask away my dear! Im always happy to hear from you." Her question wasn't really something he would be expecting.

As she sheepishly rubbed her arm and looked everywhere but him. "A-Actually, I-I was wondering if you'd ever want to go dancing with me again s-sometime. I-It was really fun and I-" She looked back to him with a small smile. "I think..I want t-to get to know you better."

Well...that certainly was unexpected, but that just meant more progress! So he happily grinned politely as her sweet offer to him. "Darling. Of course! I would be delighted to spend time with you." His red eyes glanced to the grandfather on the otherside of the office before glancing back to her. "Tell you what. Why don't you join me for tea in an hour? We'll have plenty of time to talk then."

Her ears perked up with a bigger smile. "R-Really? S-Sure. I'd really like that."

He chuckled. "Very well then. In the meantime, do be a dear and fetch me another cup of coffee, will you? This business deal won't straighten itself out."

She happily agreed and he was eventually rewarded with a new steaming mug of coffee and he was happily looking through the papers he held within his hands as the clock clicked away on the wall across from them. Instead of leaving as soon as she gave him the mug, she stayed and looked curiously to the papers he held with innocent naivity. Oh it made him chuckle.

"What are you dealing with this time?" An innocent enough question.

"The owner of the winery next door has offered to sell it to me, but getting a hold of him is as easy as putting a fire out with gas." Which meant it wasn't easy at all. What could the fool possibly be doing that was so much more important than selling him the dam place if he offered in the first place?!

She made an 'oh' and blinked back to him. "Well I think it'd be a great addition to the casino."

"Is that right?"

She nodded. "Absolutely! With your business managing skills I bet you could connect the two easily. Maybe even open up a second larger bar inside it. Those are pretty popular as I've heard." Her brows furrowed in thought. "But maybe not make it so smoke ridden or blast that ridiculous excuse for music around, not a lot of people like those places. By the looks of all your friends at the party I'd say a few of them would pay a pretty penny to have one place around here that wasn't so....exotic like Rita's." She didn't even notice Lou had stopped midway through a sip and looked up at her. "With Midnight's potion making, you could probably even make your own brand and sell it too! Plus if you expanded the winery to double the size and enhanced the magical power of turning grapes into wine, I bet you'd get a lot more customers. A lot of people would like real authentic wine made from real grapes like on the surface instead of..how did Disease put it? 'Cheap gunk water'? And since you'd be able to grow your own grapes and own the brewery, you'd be able to make yourself some as well with no cost at all." She turned to him with a smile but paused seeing his face. "Oh..I-Im sorry. W-Was I talking too much?"

"..No. No actually. All those sounds like marvelous ideas!" He smiled before sipping that bitter tasting drink.

"Really?!"

He chuckled again. "But of course. But I am curious. Where did you learn all your business know how anyhow? I know you explained your father was a prominent business man, probably not as successful as yours truly, but by what you told me about him and your past, he didn't seem too keen on letting a lady such as you keep on the family business. No offense."

Her eyes glanced down for a moment. "He-...He often dragged me along to..c-certain business meetings if he knew someone had a son. I heard a lot at those places."

He glanced up at her for a moment. "....And I am to assume he only brought you along to use you as some kind of token in case he saw an opportunity to use you to get information from said sons? Or am I assuming something too large?"

"No. You're p-pretty spot on. He didn't see me for anything else."

"What of your mother?" If she was spilling information, he might as well get as much as he could get from her. Never know when it might come in handy.

She shrugged. "I don't know. My parents got divorced when I was a baby and she...s-she left me with him. N-Never met her."

"Oh, I see....Well I am sorry for your situation." He went back to his papers with another sip.

"Thank you..." She looked at him. "What was your family like?"

He paused...before blinking and looking back up to her. "My family?" She nodded and he went silent for a moment. ".....They were...terrible people let's say. A gambling man and his not so wonderful wife is what resulted in myself."

"Is that why you're so good at running a casino?"

He chuckled. Oh if only she really knew the many nights he was forced from a young age to stand watch as his father and his 'friends' gambled any and all money away, drinking away their sorrows. Of course he never did, instead he was much more interested in what the men did with the cards. And eventually he swiped a deck himself and began practicing when he was bored, which lead to him developing his own tricks. His own destiny carved out by himself. And the name he made back on the surface. He sometimes wondered if his name was still up there somewhere besides obviously on a tombstone. Were there any records of himself from his bloody gang wars? Probably not because then he was still nothing but a small fish in a big pond, but you could imagine his surprise when he woke up to him tumbling down and hitting the sidewalk hard when he first got here. Confused as all hell but quickly able to recover. He had to claw his way up the ranks and fought tooth and nail to get there, but it all paid off now didn't it. Hard work always paid off in the end in his experience. Sometimes he wondered what his poor parents faces would be if they could see him now? An overlord of hell and richer than they would ever dream! That's the difference between him and them. He was smart with his money and knew how to play the game.

"You could say so. But I like to believe it's more thanks to my natural ability to spot the obvious good things in life before they slip away.~"

"Oh. Well I'd say you have a wonderful ability!"

He chuckled more at her politeness. "Thank you. But now I believe I promised that tea."

Things were FINALLY starting to look more progressive with Midnight's assignment as over the next few days she was finally able to restore them to their (almost) original state and they looked a lot cleaner than when he first got them. He was pleased none the less, but she told him they'd need to test them which was a small problem. Obviously he couldn't let anyone know he had them for confidential reasons, so it'd be a bit tricky. But he would figure it out later. He was making great progress bout everywhere it seemed. The pretty pet wanted to spend more time with him and he was happily to oblige, sometimes for tea, other times for that promised dancing he promised. He was surprised to find out she knew the jitterbug and charleton, though it was quite obvious she was still rusty. He was happy to escort her through the small steps and be close to her-..Uh! I mean to get her to easily go with what he said of course. It had nothing to do with her giggles or the surprise squeaks she'd make when he surprised her, or the fact she basically enjoyed the same things he did. It was just because he enjoyed dancing and it was nice to have someone compliment his singing and dancing skills. But it certainly stroked his ego as Midnight would oh so lovely put it. She wasn't...bad to have around. Compliments and politeness aside, she was very down to earth and ..surprisingly passionate. Actually dimallishing Rita's bar when he asked her what could be better about it. He laughed and honestly wondered what Rita would think if she knew someone as weak as her thought her place was a 'smelly bin of smoke and sweat that needed a few windows and MORE than just a few scented candles'.

Well after that little laugh he knew just the position to promote her to. So when he called her up to come to his office, she was pretty surprised when he explained why.

She blinked. "Personal asisntant?"

He hummed and nodded. "That's right, Dear! I feel as if merely being a secretary was ..undermining your abilities. You'd still have your duties AS my secretary but with more duties added on. But I promise the extra work would be worth the effort."

"What exactly are they?"

"You'd be entrusted with taking care of my more personal property. For example you're now in charge of making sure my space her is always in order and things are where I can find them, you'd be in charge of making sure my meals are delivered, and of course as my right hand asistant you'd be accompying me on business if it calls for it. But if it sounds too much too soon for you, I'll gladly just not give the promotion."

And wouldn't you know it. Hook. Line. And sinker. He made it seemed like something much better than it was and of course she agreed right away it would be a fantastic idea. And the next day she got too it. If there was another thing he could say about her it was that it was she was a hard worker, and she worked her tail off to prove she earned that little spot. Or maybe it was because some part of her still felt scared or intimidated by him. Didn't matter for now. Progress was being made throughout. She would still flinch lightly when he wrapped an arm around her or patted her back, but it was MUCH better than before. Couldn't say the same thing about everyone else or big crowds. She still was timid around those and that was just fine with him. The less interaction beyond his little crew the better. He gets to spend more time with her and vise versa! Everyone wins. Especially him. Though there was still a matter of that small warm feeling that wasn't really that small anymore, and he had a sneaking feeling as to what it could've possibly been, but he still pushed the unimportant thing aside for now. Right now he had FINALLY gotten a hold of the man who wanted to sell him the place and it was certainly about time. He should have the documents on his next business run. Which would happen to be his little pet's first one with him to be exact. Not anywhere special, just the casino floor. Laughing, cheers, and music filled the air within the casino as demons of all kinds gambled their money away or drank themselves drunk. A usual day for the casino staff....Well, almost everyone. The clicking of hooves made their way down the hallway towards the more noisier side of the whole casino. The woman flipped through the many papers piled within her arms. She finally pulled one from the back, scanning her eyes over it before looking up at the person walking next to her smiling nervously. "T-The deed to the winery next door has successfully been obtained like you wanted." The taller male smiled down at her. "Excellent!" He snatched the document from her and smirked down at it. "With this we'll no longer have to rely on cheap black market booze. How much have we left in stock, Pet?" Her ears went back at the nickname, but answered, "I....don't know. I haven't looked yet." He hummed and gave her a look. "Go ask Rouge, that beer bug ought to give you the answer, then get back to me."

Her eyes blinked confused up at him and she rose a brow. "Rouge?"

A sudden realization came over him and he sighed. "Oh, yes! You two haven't properly been introduced yet! Silly me!" From where they were standing he pointed a hand across the giant room where she could barely make out the bar. "Rouge is one of my floor managers but she mostly just handles the many bars and kitchen areas I have around here. You can't miss her really. She really bugs you persay." He chuckled..but sighed again at her still confused face. "She's a bug demon. Green hair, wings- You can't miss her."

"Oh. I see."

"Yes, now be a dear and ask her how much stock we have so I can calculate how soon we can easily use my newly obtained purchase.~" A red claw was extended to pull back a stray gold hair from her face. She visibly flinched at the touch and stopped an her purple eyes darted at him. He only chuckled and leaned forward a little. "You can do that. Can't you, Pet?~" She gulped and managed to not stutter despite the heat in her face. "Of course I can." His hand patter her cheek before retracting back and chuckling. "I thought so.~ Now-" He began walking again with her quickly following behind. "-I must go speak with a very important client. No go find Rouge. She'll give you what you need." "Yes, Sir." He often used nicknames with her and very flirty gestures, but after working for him for a couple months she got used to it....Kinda. He seemed to get a chuckle out of seeing her squirm and those god forbidden squeak sounds she made. Though putting up with his antics was better than fighting for survival on the streets. Even if it meant her hand. They came to the end of the hallway where the loud sounds of music and voices were. Without so much but a side smile at her, he turned to the left and quickly disappeared among the crowd of other demons. She watched after him for a moment, but soon went the opposite way. It wasn't comfortable being around so many possibly dangerous demons, but most were too busy with their games to pay attention to her. The ones that DID she knew stared at her body(or more specifically her exposed leg or horn). She made the mistake of looking into the face of one of her 'admirers' as she walked past. The grimy man visibly smirked at her and licked his fangs.....which made her cringe, duck her head, and pick up her pace. The bar couldn't be far now, right? ....Right! The bar wasn't as crowded as he thought it'd be, but it was still pretty packed. In the middle of it all was the flutter of green wings as the insect demon passed out drinks fast with ease. Years of experience right there. And she blinked. That must've been the Rouge Lou was telling her about. She didn't notice her at first, but (when she got close enough) Rouge smiled in her direction and placed her hands on the counter as she sat down. "Hey there, Fuzzy. You here for a drink?" She gestured to the wide shelves behind her. "We got lots of choices to choose from, so pick your poison." She smiled and took a seat. "N-No. Lou wanted to know how much alcohol was left in stock." Rouge rose a brow in confusion and she remembered that they hadn't been introduced yet. So not one for being rude, she stuck a hand out. "I-I-Im Amalfia. Your coworker? Im sure we hadn't met." She still looked confused before she gave a knowing smile and grabbing her hand. "Oh yeah! I recognize your name from Disease telling me all about you and the big guy spending some time together." She smiled before looking down at the paperwork she held then back to her. "Someone's been busy." She brought her arms up to rest them and the papers on the bar and gave a smile. "It's not that bad. It's certainly better than doing laundry o-or sweeping the floors, b-but Im just here because he wants to know how much stock you all have left." She snorted. "With all the chores he makes ya do, I'm surprised he doesn't dress you up in a mad outfit." Instead of getting the suggestive joke, the unicorn cocked her head to the side in confusion. "Why would he have me do that? I'm pretty sure he already has cleaning staff." "...Never mind." She waved a hand dismissively before leaning off the counter. "You said you wanted to know the booze level. Alright. It'll take me a couple minutes though." "I can wait." "Alright. HEY!" Her head snapped to the right as she shouted. Another demon glared at her from the other side of the bar. "Cover me for a bit. I need something from the back." Rouge left without another word, disappearing through a door between the two shelves of alcohol as the other bartender kept serving the demons that came. Leaving her surrounding by patrons grumbling for their drinks or passed out drunk on the bar. It was fine though. She was usually left alone if she just kept her eyes down and didn't engage with anyone. This wasn't the case though. As she busied herself by flipping through the small stack of papers in her hands, she barely noticed someone sit n the stool next to her, which really wasn't a big deal. It was a free bar after all. What she did notice however was the sudden ever so light feeling of someone touching her leg- "DON'T TOUCH ME!!" Her body reacted far faster than her mouth did. Whipping around towards the danger, her body on high alert from the unwanted invasion of her personal space. Sitting there was the very same demon she'd made the mistake of seeing. Her shout had seemed to catch the attention of some others around her though. The demon smiled and stared down at her like she was a prime steak. Unintentionally, she swallowed and leaned away. She probably looked more scared than she would've liked. "I-I....I don't like strangers touching m-me. Please g-go away." At this, he chuckled and leaned down eye level. "I remember you-" Her eyes visibly widened at this, and her nose wrinkled up. His breath smelt like an unwashed dumpster. He pointed a finger before saying, "Don't you remember me?..It took me a while to figure out where you were after running into me at that d*mmed club. But seeing you on the arm of that rich boy, it didn't take too long after that." She sat there frozen. "I-I...I'm really s-s-sorry, Sir, if you think that. B-But Im sorry."

He leaned his head back in laughter before hissing and leaning closer to her. "You REALLY don't recognize me, do you? I would've thought an empty headed gal like you would've made it somewhere more innocent for that pretty little head of yours. Guess not. Suits me just fine. Wouldn't you say?...Dorothy?"

She absolutely froze. Ice was traveling through her veins and his smile got wider at her absolutely terrified face. "...no." Was all she was able to force out of her terrified form at the rush of her realization and old name hit her harder than a freight train- A sudden shriek cut from her throat as something had grabbed a large fistful of her poor blonde and white hair and pulled her head back. Her hand immediately flew up to the giant hand and began to claw at it to no avail. He somehow got closer to her face. "Y'know...It's been a long time since I last saw you. Thought you still seen the last of me huh?" Her body coursed with pain as her brain screamed for his unwanted touch to go away. To not let it happen again. "Let go of me! Put me down!" Her body thrashed against the iron grip of her captor which made him raise his hand higher, dragging her from her seat. She screamed and started kicking her legs out. The commotion caught the attention of a whole lot of others, but most seemed more entertained by the fight than concerned for her. By this point she thought her head would pop off with how much it hurt. Her kicking had already sent her papers all over the ground below them. "I wonder how much a second owned horse would go for-" Another hand pressed her cheek. "A pure little thing like you would be worth a lo-AAAAHHH!!" The squirming flesh in her mouth tasted horrible, but something told her to keep her teeth clamped down. The demon cursed and pulled against her. Pushing her head back further.

"What THE F*CK are you doing?!" The female voice and the demanding tone behind it was enough to make the male demon stop and look down. By some miracle, Rouge had returned, probably hearing their screams, and was glaring at him with enough bite to put a cobra to shame. Her eyes flashed to her crying, squirming body held up by him for one split second. "....Okay, you burnt cherry lookin' mothaf*cker. You have one second to put Fuzzy down before I shove a bottle up your a$$." "Mind your own f*cking business!" Her jaw's grip had loosened in the few seconds after Rouge's return, so it was easy to finally slip his hand free to point at the much smaller demon and start yelling at her. Which gave her only a few moments to react. It was obvious this guy was physically stronger and wasn't planning on letting her go anytime soon. She sure as h*ll wasn't going back to being his to boss around. Not after so many years of FINALLY getting away. Not having to look over her shoulder, finally enjoying herself for once in her entire existance. She wouldn't go back to that enclosed prison again. So, in her panicked state, there was one very obvious solution- "LOU!!," she shrieked at the top of her lungs. Drowning out any other sound from her brain, "LOU, HELP!!" The tears dulled her vision somewhat so the next moments were a bit blurry, but no one could miss the obvious chair that came flying out of nowhere and collided with him full force. Sending them both to the floor. The sudden release from her hair was a relief compared to the smack to the floor....but it was better than being held in mid air. Her head tingled with dulled pain still, but there was no time to linger on that when a demonic cry and gagging sounds came next to her. Once again her body reacted before her conscious brain did and she sat up and away....and her eyes widened. The demon was the one making the gagging noises and flailing about like a fish out of water. The clawing at his neck directed her to the green rope like appendage firmly wrapped around it. Small red spikes dotted along it's sides. Before another shot out of no where above her making her whimper and duck as another red spiked green rope wrapped around the struggling demon's hand, and another grabbing his other hand. His red snout which didn't look good from the chair colliding with him, was held firmly shut as the green things wrapped him more than a mummy until he could barely move and was dropped to the floor in front of her. Another screech got her attention as well as some others. Her purple eyes widened at who was screeching. "Lou?" The plant demon was transfixed on the still choking demon. A fixture of rage and something she couldn't quite place on his face. He seemed to also be struggling as Cyber was death gripping his waist to hold back the snarling beast. "Lou, STOP! That's enough!" He didn't stop. "LOU!!" He froze. Everything seemed to freeze for those few agonizing moments...before his body slowly began to relax back and he blinked. "......Lou?" His head snapped to the unicorn looking up at him from the ground with a confused gaze....then around at all the patrons still watching- He quickly straightened up, reaching to fix his bowtie and hat, as if it never happened, before snapping his fingers. The vine around the guy's neck loosened and slunk away leaving him hacking and coughing. She let out a loud squeak as more vines wrapped around her suddenly and hoisted her up and over towards the two. There, she was firmly placed next to him and she gladly went behind the plant demon. He rose a brow at the fightened shaking lady as she death dripped his shirt and those purple eyes stared in absolute fear at the man gasping for breath on the floor before he hissed up at them.

"You little b*tch! Hiding behind that stupid fatcat like he's some shield for your petty little behind! You never could be stronger than me could you!? You were always too weak to do anything!!"

Now, he had made a gave mistake. He was willing to just beat him to a pulp and leave him on the streets, after all no one made a sceen in his casino without consequences and he was already in such a foul, but what had just come out of his mouth seemed to make a difference. A hiccup escaped from behind him and he slowly turned his raised brow to the woman now pressing her face to his back, not daring to look up. "Is he...?"

Her whimper was and what he had just said confirmed on just who this man was. Well, well. This day had just gotten interesting, now didn't it? What a stupid, stupid move for this poor soul to make. Lou slowly turned his gaze back to the struggling form of the cursing man in front of him. Oh he knew EXACTLY what to do with him.

"Cyber. Take this lowlife trash to Midnight, and keep him there until I come up." He turned back to the terrorfied female behind him before reaching an arm behind him and pulling her from behind him to his side. "You are coming with me." Cyber gave him an overly confused look with a," Uh. Sure, Boss." She watched silently as Lou led the horrified gal away from the cussing man and watching crowd and without so much as another word, she blankly looked down to the guy trapped in vines and rose a brow as he uselessly dug his grave by cussing her out. With ease she grabbed the vine cocooned man and threw him over her shoulder. Rolling her eyes as he cussed and screamed his way through the crowed. Leaving Rouge there extremely confused to the events that just played out. ".....Da f*ck just happened?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It took a while for him to calm her down from her very obvious panic attack which left her clinging and crying into him for the longest time as he shushed her and attempted to sooth her over like how Midnight would sooth Disease in one of his moments. Eventually she was able to get a hold of herself and just sat there in his grip hiccupping and wiping at her face for a while. When he thought she was able to be steady by herself he finally let go and she didn't make any protests when he did. Just try to pull herself together from the ordeal. Which left him to sigh and finally to go and sit in his chair for a while- He groaned and reached up to rub at his temples. The soft office chair hugged his slumped over body as he racked his brain. A small thump from the desk made him open his eyes and noticed the small white cup that was placed in front of him. The smell of coffee and weed killer filled the air, and on top of it all was the smiling face of the unicorn. "Thank you." He grabbed it before chugging it down half way. She gave him a bigger smile. "I thought you'd want that after the fight back there." He dryly chuckled. Oh, yes. The fight. He honestly didn't know what to think of it all. One moment he was casually talking up one of his more richer clients, alomost sealed the deal too, when the first screams rang out. At first, he didn't pay much attention to it, if there was a fight then the bouncers would take care of it. That's what they were paid for. What he DID pay attention to was the screaming of his name- "LOU!! LOU, HELP!!" You could say he snapped around faster than a bullet. Completely confused to who could've been shouting for him- Until he saw it. The struggling form of Amalfia struggling against a sickly cherry red demon with his hand gripping her hair. What happened next was something he couldn't quite explain. It was almost like someone flipped a switch and red clouded his vision. Though throwing a chair and making a scene in front of his customers was a blur, he would've never done that otherwise. Something his head couldn't wrap around he supposed. The only logical thing he could come to was that he became overly angry at having his pretty little weapon in danger of being taken from him and his power hungry instincts took over for a little bit. What else could it have been? "Yes. Well-" He sat back up bringing the cup with him. "I don't tolerate strangers placing their hands on the woman I intend on marrying. I would advise against going back there anytime soon." "But, my papers-" "I'll send Cyber to retrieve them." He gave the cup a look before glancing back at her. ".....This coffee tastes a bit old. Why don't you go make a new pot?" "Alright. I get the hint. But, Lou-" A Soft hand reached out to gently squeeze his free hand. "I mean it. Thank you." She slowly removed herself from by the desk and made her way over to the doorway. He sat there frozen for what seemed like forever before slowly clenching his free hand. What the h*ll was wrong with him today?! He gave a frustrated growl before reaching up to remove his hat and run those red digits through his blonde locks of his, whatever. He would feel like himself soon again anyways. But he had other business to attend to that he certainly was not going to overlook or leave as a threat to any of his plans.

***********************************************************************************

He had to wait for her to go to sleep which took a little longer than usually thanks to the mongeral's scare from earlier, but it's nothing some reassurance and warm drink couldn't help. He didn't know why but-...under that calm smile of his anger resurfaced and he gave off a frustrated growl as soon as he left the room and started making his way towards Midnight's lab, which was just a little ways from his dance room. And with his fast pace fueled by the anger in his veins it didn't take long for him to get there. But what first graced his ears was loud muffled mumbles coming from the inside of said lab and his anger started to turn in that direction. The door was pushed open maybe a little more forcefully than he'd like but that didn't matter to him in the moment and he just stood there in the doorway. Rasing a brow at what he was met with. The table Midnight used for....'things' was currently occupied by the struggling red skinned demon, the vines removed for favor of the clamps on the table, Cyber was standing right next to the table looking at him and shrugged. And a little ways from her was a grumpy as ever looking Midnight and a frowning snake flicking his tongue out at the guy...and he just now noticed the mongral had a black eye to match the rope around his mouth.

"..Did I miss something?"

"Eh...The guy got some colorful language and decided to use it on Midnight," she jabbed a thumb behind her at the grumpy looking which. "Disease wasn't too happy let's just say.''

He hummed as he walked into the room, hands behind his back and gave him a calm half lidded look without the smile. Rage burning behind those lidded red eyes of his. The guy glaring at him with absolute hatred behind that gag of his. "...Remove the gag."

Cyber did as she was told without question and with one pull the rope fell from the douchbag's snout. He coughed a few times before glaring up at him. "YOU F*CKING SON OF A B*TCH!! I'LL PLUCK YOUR PETALS AND SNAP YOUR F*CKING STEM YOU TWAT!!"

Lou's face didn't change and instead rolled his eyes. "Simpleton. You all always resort to petty curses and empty threats when you're about to meet your end. Midnight." The witch looked up from..whatever she was currently mixing together and with a sinister smile plastoring itself onto his face, he pointed to the strapped down man. "We found the new volunteer for your projects. Let's hope they prove useful research eh?"

The guy's eyes widened and snapped to the witch who all of a sudden didn't look so grumpy and was staring dead at him with...calculating eyes, before struggling against the table's restraints and glaring back him. "YOU F*CKING B*ST*RD!! LET ME OUT!!"

he hummed and tapped in his in mock thought. "Um...No. You see, you could've scared off one of my plan's assets and I simply cannot have that. So as punishment you get to help Midnight test out some of our other assets for this the small takeover I hope to achieve.~ Isn't that wonderful? Too bad you won't live to see it."

"WHY YOU FU-" The guy's snout was slammed shut by Cyber after Lou nodded to her. With incredible strength, she held his red jaws shut with one hand while looping the rope back around it with the other. Midnight already looked a little better, digging through one of the draws of her desk and pulling out a few potions and things she was eager to use. As for him?...He deserved a good night's sleep after today. He felt oddly satisfied and wanted to leave them to it. Turning on his heel he took a few steps before stopping in the doorway.

"Oh..By the way.'' He looked over his shoulder. Smile and red eyes glowing in the dark. "You missed out on having a remarkible lady by your side. I guess in a way I should really be thanking you. In a sense you pushed her to me and I couldn't be happier.~" Cyber rose a brow again at him happy tone. "But we both know I won't do any of that."

The doors closed behind him and muffled cries cursed him from behind.

All characters except Amalfia belongs to @palettepainter

[sparrowwritesforobeyme]

NSFW Alphabet x Diavolos Dad

@fellulahh started a movement, which I fondly call “the devil daddy stan-squad”

It is very inspiring!

So to support this great developement...have some NSFW-Alphabet promts for Dias father.

(Since he is not an actual character in the game (yet!) none of this is remotely canon!I wish....hahah)

A-ftercare

This mass of a man is not used to real affection. He never took a real interest in anybody, neither did he have the time for that.

It actually takes him a while to open up, but even after he feels more comfortable with the relationship, his way of showing affection is more subtle.

For instance he will pull you into him in order to “straighten up the sheets” on your side of the bed. You can be sure that he will just not let you go again.

B-ody

Like his son, this man is huge.

The Demon King takes pride in his impressive height. He loves the way he tower over his lover wherever they go, but also in bed.

You could say that he has a decent size kink!

The thing he lovey about his lover would be their hips and butt.

I headcanon that he is a booty fan! Small booty, big booty, he approves!

You can be sure that his hands constantly leave prints on your deicate flesh from how hard he grabs you.

C-Cheesy

If you thinks that this man is all grim and moody...you are on the right path. He had an image to uphold!

But seriously...I believe that he has the ability to be Cheesy, at least with his lover.

Diavolo probably inherited it from his dad!

But his goofy side will not show during the act itself. Sometimes he´ll tease you during foreplay, but this man prefers passion over goofyness in bed.

D-irty Secret

Is this man the ruler of a whole realm? YES!

Does he enjoy to have his lover ride him once in a while? Hell Yes!

Please give this man the right to watch his lover be on top of him once in a while!

E-xperience

The demon lord is almost as old as time itself, to be fair, he spent a big amount of it in a slumber...but he gained experience.

Demons are just not able to resist temptations!

The Demon King puts his experience to use with his lover, he has a lot of great ways to make you loose control in the sheets (and probably every other surface of the palast)

F-avourite Position

finding positions during sex is quite difficult for the two of you.

while his height has many advantages....sex isn´t one of them

you actually tried quite a few ones, but many tries ended not as expected

Positions like 69 will simply not work out for the two of you

He actually went to the human work in secret and got a book for sex positions to find something that suits the two of you. He´´ll never admit it openly and you can´t deny that it did something to you when you caught him being engrossed in a book about “human mating” (it probably was a porno magazine..this man has no clue of human media), while sitting at his table, looking all serious.

If he feels more emotional, he´d want to spoon you during sex or sprawl you out on the bed in front of him. Looking at you during the deed is the epitum of intimacy to him!

after a while you found many position that work out for you.

His favourite ones include bending you over a piece of furniture or having you ride him.

G-oofy

The only time he´ll break his serious stance in the bedroom is during foreplay

He´ll tease you A LOT

“Hmmm...so wet for me already...quite desperate my love”

“cat got your tongue? How unfortunate...I came up with one or two ideas  how you could use it!”

H-air

The demons King strikes me as a rough type of handsome, but that does not mean that he just let´s everything grow wildly!

He always makes sure to groom his royal area to perfection.

Also he read about humans facination of the happy-trail...he makes sure to adapt

I-ntimacy

being intimate with the devil in person is quite a challenge sometimes.

He is very busy, but when he finds you, he´ll make sure to make up for it in any way you can imagine

Sex with the Demon King (he needs a name srsly) can be either extremely passionate or extremely intimate, this man does not make compromises!

One thing is clear...you are his Queen/Partner and he will make sure that you are satisfied, even if it means that he has to man up and share his deepest desires with you

J-ealos Sex? 

you´re in an entanglement with a King...he knows that there is no one better than him, at first sight at least.

He might have a hard time to admit it to himself, but sometimes he wonders whether he is really capable of making you fully content, since he has so little knowdledge of the human world and it´s culture.

This adorable mass of a man spents his free time listening to you or reading human-literature in order to fully grasp what humanity is about.

So if you actually went to the human world and there was a person that connected with you or talked about some human thing he is not able to understand just yet...he will get jealous.

How cam a peasant believe they can just walk up to the queen of devildome and pretent to be better than the King himself!

He absolutely will show you that he understands you and your body better than anybody else, when you get home,( or in a secluded area nearby)

K-ink

like already mentioned he loves the size difference. It does not matter whether you are tall or short, in comparision you are tiny, also you should not forget that he can influence his human form and he may or may not make sure that he hovers over you at all times.

Demons have their own way of showing affection to their chosen one, one these ways is marking their partner

The Demon King would proudly show off his partner plus lovebites he left on them.

If his partner is a female the next stage for him would be breeding. I can see him getting exited by the thought of seeing his woman swelling with his son growing inside of her, showing the world that she is his.

L-ocation

What use does a palace have if you can´t use it?

He´ll want to sleep with his partner in any place they can imagine, but his favourite places, would be either his throne (serious powerplay...just imagine you riding him, while he sits on his massive throne) or your shared bed (because he knows that you´re most comfortable this way)

M-otivation

Many things get the King going, but his absolutely biggest trigger is you being the Partner/Queen you are.

Seeing you tending to Devildomes Subjects with love and care will make him want to sweep you off of your feet and carry you to your shared bedroom.

Another thing that gets him going is praise. When you call him “my King”, “Your majesty” or simply “love”....you are in for a ride

N-O

What he absolutely would not do is having a threesome with anybody, especially not Diavolo!

Another thing he´d not even want to try is BDSM on him or you. He can get a bit rough with you, but he is scared to hurt you too much if you tried implementing pain in your sex life.

His sadism is dangerous sometimes.

O-ral

He just adores the sounds you make when he goes down on you ang god---- he is skilled!

He likes receiving just as much as giving.

Watching you go down on him, clearly having a hard time taking all his glory in, will make him painfully hard in your mouth.

P-ace

His pace depends on his mood and the situation that lead to sex.

If the two of you jokes around and indulged in a more playful kind of sex, he would be on the faster side, relishing in the lovely souns he can get out of you

If the two of you have a more passionate session, he would take his time and force every little bit of pleasure out of you.

Q-uicky

Due to the time issue Quickies are normal for the two of you, though he prefers to make you scream all night.

Usually Quickies re some sort of teaser to prepare you for whats going to happen this night.

Saying that it happened once or twice that a Quick Round activated his hunger, poor Diavolo( and Lucifer) had to take care of all the work, because the King himself had a meeting to attent

Of course they know his true intention and tbh it´s still hard for them to accept that their friend is now the partner of the Demon King himself, especially since they both showed an interest in you as well

R-efraction Period

a matter of minutes..demons have just more stamina than humans do.

But he will make sure to stop, when you can´t take it anymore!

S-ecret

He was aware of you way before he officially “awaked”

after a while he fell for you, only after that he decided to make a move and claim you as his

The Demon King was aware of his sons plans and watched it all unfold (not being happy at all) but you piqued his interest.

“A weak human making pacts with some of the strongest demons of Devildome?”

T-oys

The Demon is old-fashioned, he prefers to be the the thing giving his lover pleasure, not some damn piece of plastic

Also he is not advanced in technical knowledge, it was quite a shock to him to wake up to a modern devildome

U-nfair

BIG TEASE

it goes hand in hand with his powerplay-kink

the King just loves to see you loose your mind, almost begging for him. It does wonders for his ego!

V-olume

Entirely depends on the situation you guys are in

W-ild Card

Usually he just grunts or groans, but if you have a particularly passionate session, he´ll press orders to his theeth

“Shi- look at me! Don´t look away!”

“Tease me one more time and I´ll make sure you won´t walk for the rest of the week, lttle one”

He enjoys having you nearby at all times, even during work. Usually when he works you lay on a couch in his study and do shoolwork or read, etc

He´ll get moody if you can´t be there due to you having a life outside of the palace and friends.

He wouldn´t say it out loud, but he is slightly jealous that the demon brothers get to spent so much time with HIS Partner

X-Ray

Oh Boy...not saying numbers, but it takes some time to prepare you. This man does not only have big hands...

Y-earning

The Demon King can be needy behind closed doors

From the outside he appears cold....angry at best, but when you´re alone he yearns for his lovers affection.

He´s touch deprived, even if he´s had some...company in the past, it was never on a real intimate level.

This is completely new terrain for him, so he needs to learn how stop the intense craving for you

Z-zzz 

He slept centuries...he needs no sleep

The King knows that you need your sleep and he makes sure you get enough, but as soon as you fall asleep after a rather long session of love-making, he impatiently waits for you to wake up, slowly falling asleep after pulling you close to him.

[theatricalities]

⧼   A mask of perfect innocence hiding the machiavellian intentions forever lurking beneath the surface — the ace up your sleeve, the trick coin with one side weighing heavier than its opposite because chance is simply a game that’s far too risky for the likes of you; the claw marks left on absolutely anything and everything in your wake — it’s not desperation that makes you cling so fervently to the objects of your desire as much as it’s your own way of ensuring survival; the self-imposed solitude clouding your ocean eyes  — questions of identity and belonging are forever at the heels of your every decision, begging you to turn back before it’s too late.   ⧽ 

  ━━   hey, isn’t that ZEPHYRINE TRAVERS ? i read a daily prophet article on them, once ; the 24 year old part-Veela WITCH is a SLYTHERIN alumnus who has gone on to be an ACTRESS IN THE WIXEN WORLD. i’ve heard they can be quite AUDACIOUS & BEGUILING, but i don’t know…they came off very EXPLOITATIVE and DELUSIVE in that interview. it really is hard to know what to believe these days though, isn’t it?

(  takes a hiatus...comes back with a new character  )

Heya ghouls, gals, and nonbinary pals! It’s me, ya girl. Zephyrine is my second little child to enter the group and I’m real wild about her! She’s inspired by DE idea #17 which you can find listed here!  Obviously, Zeph is an OC, but her tie to canon is that she’s the daughter of Travers, the Death Eater who killed Marlene McKinnon and family. Also, because I just don’t know how to write contented characters, Zeph’s a bit of a wreck, too — has some daddy issues, wants more than the world can offer, doesn’t have a true sense of self...but she’s got great fashion !

Below is Zephyrine’s bio and general information. Wanted connections can be found here ( very under construction rn ) and they’ll be updated as play progresses! Please feel free to pm me here or on discord ( debaucherie#6347 ) if you’d like to plot ✿

BEFORE THE WAR — “ Everyone wants something...”

[ trigger warnings for death, murder; ]

On the night that marked Zephyrine Travers’ birth, the world in return exalted her upon arrival, singing the praises of the newborn babe as boldly as a songbird in spring.

Or — that was the tale upon which her mother raised her, and it was one the girl found fitting enough to believe, even if all the world around spoke to the contrary. After all, her father (whose only claim to the term was in the scientific sense alone) created so empty a home that such fantastical ideas were perhaps the only source of hope that the young girl could find. At the age of two, Zephyrine and her family were quietly removed from their ancestral home as her father was sentenced to Azkaban for the murder of Marlene McKinnon. She and her mother were stripped of all riches, no matter the fact that the young girl continued the bloodline of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. 

And so, life continued on in this way, with little yarns of fantasy spun each and every night in the dreariness of their one-room hovel, spoken in assuring whispers as they cooked by candlelight or repaired a worn and weathered dress when there was no money to replace it instead. Despite the woe-be-gone skirts and helpless shoes, she was determined that no one should know about the unexpected poverty that marked her home life, and walked into the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with every intent on looking the part of the Travers name even if it was in name alone that she remained connected  —  going so far as to insist to the Sorting Hat that she was meant to be in Slytherin, as her family had been for centuries, even when it argued she was better suited to Ravenclaw instead. 

In many ways, her adolescence was a long, drawn-out course in the art of convincing others — she could manifest a stream of tears to reassure a fellow Slytherin that she truly felt for her father just as easily as she could feign prolonged wooziness to avoid Flying class for a week. She flashed her blessedly charming smile across the House tables in the Great Hall, befriended everyone and anyone while still keeping them at arm’s length, and convinced even the most doubtful that she was an invaluable creature — not because of her name or the weight it still carried in certain circles, but because she believed herself to be and would not rest until it was an undeniable, unequivocal truth.

At sixteen, however, the meager world she’d known her whole life shattered entirely, its fragments not pieced together with the loving touch of her mother, but instead the fearsome presence of her father, who broke out of Azkaban along with ten other Death Eaters, including Bellatrix Lestrange. Unsurprisingly, he was asked by Lord Voldemort to prove his loyalty, and continued his murderous warpath — but instead of getting caught this time, he ensured that another would take his place. Zephyrine’s mother, innocent as a dove, was framed for his crimes and swiftly locked up in Azkaban, and Zander Travers was restored all riches seized upon his arrest.

By seventeen, Zephyrine had all the hallmarks of the dreams her mother raised her on : wealth far beyond her dreams, a manor estate fit for royalty and all the accompanying fanfare upon being properly introduced into a society of Death Eaters, but lost her mother in the process to a nightmare come true — the very woman who had instilled in the girl so great a belief in the impossible, that even this seemed like something Zephyrine could undo. 

She now balanced quite a precarious act, appearing to her father as his perfect little Death Eater in training, while turning spy for the Order in exchange for their help in freeing her mother once the War was won. 

AFTER THE WAR. — “...and once you know what they want, you know how to move them.”

When the time came, however, her mother was one of the many forgotten in the shadow of the Order’s triumph, relegated to little more than a broken promise as she rotted in Azkaban along with her husband, once again sentenced for his crimes. Their daughter, however, now took up the mantle of the new head of the Travers family, left with the ruins of her father’s blood-soaked legacy. In a world rebuilding itself, there was no game to be played when each side no longer had a reason to fight — and so, she waited. Seethed, more accurately, and busied herself with cleaning up the Travers name as time passed by. After receiving a formal training with the Wixen Academy of Dramatic Arts, she cemented herself firmly as a darling in the wixen theatre scene. In truth, it was all too easy. For twenty years, she’d practiced different ways to be believed — not to lie, she’d argue to herself, for any of those perceived lapses in truth had simply been her playing a character in order to get what she needed, and the silver-tongued sweetheart she portrayed to the public was no different.  To believe was the notion her mother instilled in her, but to be believed was one she’d determined necessary for herself, even if it meant losing any sense of self in the process. And so, upon hearing word of a reformed Death Eater legion under Bellatrix Lestrange’s leadership, she appealed to their cause, vowing that she could easily become a spy within the group which once held her loyalty — in exchange, once more, for the release* of her mother. Her allegiances, of course, are unknown to the public at large. In fact, when asked by the press on such matters, she voices her support for the Ministry and their efforts at preventing another tragedy to ever mark the Wixen World’s history again. Naturally, it’s all an act, as it has always been, and she’ll keep playing the game for as long as it take to reunite* with her mother, gain the most powerful of allies, and secure her own survival. 

[ * — while i’d love to believe that zeph’s mom is still alive, i think mrs. travers is likely to have perished rather soon after being wrongfully imprisoned. however, i believe that this information was kept from zeph as a way of controlling her, first by her father, then perhaps by the order ( i’d have to actually plot this one out w/an order member for this to be true ), but certainly by bellatrix and the DE clan. ]

BASICS.

FULL NAME:  Zephyrine Travers NAME MEANING: Zephyrine is of French origin and means ‘west wind’ ; Travers is of English origin and means ‘to cross’  NICKNAME(S):  Zeph ( used by family and close friends, only ) GENDER IDENTITY: Demigirl DATE OF BIRTH: 29 October, 1995 ( i put the wrong age in my app bc maths are not my strong suit, so technically Zeph is 24 but will turn 25 soon ) BIRTHPLACE:  Travers Estate, Hampshire, England  CURRENT PLACE OF DWELLING:  London, England  SEXUAL ORIENTATION:  pansexual panromantic LANGUAGE(S): English, French, basic Latin

LIFE.

OCCUPATION: Actress  EDUCATION: Homeschooled from ages 4 to 11; attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry from ages 11 to 18; attended the Wixen Academy of Dramatic Arts from ages 19 to 21. SOCIOECONOMIC LEVEL ( GROWING UP ):  Born upper class, but lower middle class from ages 2 - 16, upper class ages 16 - onward. SOCIOECONOMIC LEVEL ( CURRENTLY ): Upper class. RELIGION: Atheist

MAGICAL.

BLOOD TYPE: Not quite pureblood — but, publicly pureblood  SPECIES: 1/4 Veela  WAND TYPE: Hawthorn, unicorn hair core, 13″, reasonably supple SKILL LEVEL: Reasonably proficient, but a distinct knack for transfiguration and healing magic. Is adept at DADA, but often flees from the scene of battle before needing to utilize curses, jinxes, etc. PATRONUS: Incapable of producing a corporeal Patronus, but if she could, it would take the form of a shrike. BOGGART: Herself — albeit, a different, unrecognizable version of herself. In all her lying and betraying and such, Zeph has lost sense of herself and just doesn’t know the depths she might go to in order to get what she wants — and so I think it’s very possible that her biggest fear is the worst possible version of herself, the one that resembles her father in his uncaring bloodlust, messy and indiscriminate and entirely lacking in the nuance she prides herself on. AMORTENTIA: Fresh popcorn, the collar of a well-worn leather jacket, the scent of a newspaper so fresh the ink smudges one’s fingertips MIRROR OF ERISED: TBD. HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin ( the Sorting Hat debated for approximately nine minutes between Ravenclaw and Slytherin, but ultimately decided on Slytherin because Zephyrine asked it to. ) FAVORITE SUBJECT:  Transfiguration. LEAST FAVORITE SUBJECT:  Arithmancy. CLUBS / EXTRACURRICULARS: The Slug Club ( Year 7 ), Theatre Club ( Years 2 - 7 ), Keres Club ( ages 22 - present )

RELATIONS.

PARENT(S): Zander & Odette ( nee Lynd ) Travers SIBLING(S): Two older sisters, both deceased, from her father’s first marriage, and a younger sibling born one-two years after her from her father’s affair. SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S): tbd. EX SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S): tbd. CHILDREN:  none. PET(S):  Two cats, Beryl and Belinda. 

PHYSICAL.

HEIGHT: 5′7″ HAIR: silver-blonde EYES: blue BODY MODIFICATION(S): Three piercings in either ear. Despite Bellatrix’s insistence, she has staved off getting the Dark Mark under the guise that it would harm her status as an actress. In truth, she simply would hate to get something so permanent when her loyalties are rather, well, impermanent. NOTABLE SCARS / BIRTHMARKS:  No scars / noticeable birthmarks. A scattering of freckles. GLASSES / CONTACTS: Only when required for an acting role, but not usually needed. CLOTHING STYLE: Quite a soft, ‘feminine’ style — lace, ribbons, ruffles, pastels — but there’s always one or two little things hinting at something decidedly more aggressive ( platinum collar-tips pointed and sharpened, metallic makeup, earrings in the design of tiny daggers, black lace gloves hiding perfectly manicured claws ) ; zephyrine also wears her mother’s choker, which is platinum-plated and has a handshake as a clasp. DOMINANT HAND: Ambidextrous

PERSONALITY.

ZODIAC: Scorpio ( sun ) — observant, expressive, secretive, vengeful, enigmatic // Gemini ascendant, Capricorn moon PERSONALITY TYPE: ENTJ, The Commander — confident, charismatic, strategic, ruthless, stubborn, emotionally naive MORAL ALIGNMENT:  Neutral Evil TEMPERAMENT: Phlegmatic  ELEMENT:  Water VICE(S): Wrath VIRTUE(S):  Diligence CHARACTER PARALLELS: Dahlia Hawthorne ( Ace Attorney ), Amy March ( Little Women ), Margaery Tyrell ( ASOIAF ), Vesper Lynd ( James Bond ), Eva Perón ( history / ‘EVITA’ the musical & film )

[bensboynton]

the bookshop on the corner b.h

this request was originally a blurb but then i wrote a few thousand words and it turned to a fic. so. oops?

WC: 3.3k

warnings: none besides typos!! only ONE curse word.

John Green once said, “As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.”

And as a hopeless romantic, Y/N has wished since the original publication of the novel said quote appeared in (The Fault in Our Stars; one of her more modern favorites) that she could relate. In even the slightest!

Although, it was quite hard being a hopeless romantic who had absolutely zero men who were even slightly interested in her, zero social skills, and zero opportunity to fall in love with anybody. 

Until today. 

Y/N works at a bookshop in the corner of a quiet East Sussex street, in a town called Rye. The shop is squished between a small deli and a bland boutique that sells flowy shirts she swears she’s seen her grandmother wear on a few occasions. 

The store itself is quaint and small; an absolutely staggering number of seven whole bookshelves filled to the brim with words, a lounging area, and her desk where she also had an old cash register. Y/N often worked alone, as the owner had other businesses and placed almost all her trust in Y/N. The girl was completely okay with working alone. 

Her routine was always the same; wake up at 6 am, get ready while dancing to whatever music she’d been listening to recently (you’d be surprised by how fast her music taste changes: just yesterday she was listening to Miley Cyrus and now she’s listening to various punk bands she discovered on the internet). She’d then walk to the café that was exactly 95 steps away from the stoop of her apartment (give or take a few) and she’d spend around 20 minutes talking to the old woman who runs the place. 

After stalling at the coffee shop, she makes her way across the street to the book shop where she works with one other person; the owner of the shop. 

Y/N’s life is very monotone, and to other people, extremely boring. But not to her. 

Y/N’s entire life exists in a 5 block radius of East Sussex. She goes to the grocery store sometimes, but that’s about as far away she gets from her apartment and she’s completely okay with that. She eats takeout a lot, anyways.

As pathetic as that sounds, this is probably the happiest Y/N has been in her entire life. Besides when she adopted her cat. That was a very close second in her book. 

Y/N was completely satisfied with her life. She’d talk with the woman who owned the book store she lived in, would greet her mailman with a cheery smile every morning. She knew everybody and everybody knew her. She was friends--scratch that, acquaintances-- with everybody who was around her. And that’s how she liked it. 

In fifth grade, Y/N was bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready to find a love like she saw in the movies her big sister watched on the TV all the time. While other kids her age were watching Finding Nemo, Y/N was watching Pretty Woman. 

Then one day, Dale Erdelac, otherwise known as Y/N’s crush, asked her to be his girlfriend during lunch. She stood there with her mouth full of sharp metal braces and her heart full of adrenaline and butterflies. She said yes all too quickly. 

Needless to say, Dale wasn’t serious. Y/N found out a few hours later that it wasn’t, in fact, a serious proposal. It was a dare from his snotty little friends. Y/N cried a lot more than she’d like to admit that day. 

It would be completely immature and nonsensical if the only reason Y/N’s love life was so disappointing was because of a dumb mouth-breather in fifth grade. It’s not, but that’s definitely part of it. 

Y/N has never truly been in love. 

Her mom tries to tell her she has, but she knows she hasn’t. She dated a guy in high school for two years just to pass the time. She told him “I love you” and he said it back, but she didn’t feel love. She didn’t feel the speeding up of her heartbeat when she saw him, or the warmth that spreads across your chest when they laugh like the pretty girls talk about in the movies. 

Her older sister, Peyton, tells her to move on a lot. “That fairytale love doesn’t exist,” she’d say, “it’s a creative outlet for fictional writers to display their nonsense dreams and desires. It can exist in your head, but never in real life.” 

That’s what she said every time. 

Y/N ignored her and kept on living her life in the small bubble of 5 blocks in Rye. 

She was happy. She told herself that. No, she knew she was happy. She was secure! What else could she want in life? 

And then he showed up. 

The tiny bookstore in the corner of the block didn’t get a lot of visitors (although that could be easily inferred due to the description of the little community there). Y/N pretty much knew the name and story of every single person who stepped foot into the shop. 

Until one day, she didn’t anymore. 

It was a cold January day; not the kind where the wind pierces your skin like daggers. It was the kind of cold that felt dry; like it was sucking the water out of your body through your skin and leaving behind a red numbness in its wake. 

A man walked in. He was tall and blonde, muscular and carried a chaotically calming energy. His eyes raked over the book store slowly, as if he was trying to imprint the old wooden rocking chairs and chipped bookshelves in his mind forever. 

It was like every move he made had a perfectly logical purpose. 

Y/N watched him intently from across the room, hidden by a pile of books she’d been meaning to put away for more than an hour now. She was so intrigued by him it made her stomach do a backflip. This was unusual for her. 

As soon as the man started looking her way, she looked down into the book sitting open on her lap, scrambling to pretend she was deep in thought over the passage she was reading. 

Her pupils glossed over the same paragraph three times, but she couldn’t comprehend a single word knowing he was in the same room as her. 

“Excuse me?”

Y/N’s body jolted slightly due to the sudden sound of his deep voice. She was the only one in the bookshop at the moment, as the owner had gone home for the day and it was her turn to close up. The store was never populated by more than six people at a time, and it would be especially dead considering New Year’s Eve was two days ago. 

“What can I help you with?” she spoke, mentally slapping herself for the way her voice sounded. It was pinched and sounded like a squeak. She cleared her throat desperately to return it to its normal sound. 

“I’m looking for a book.”

“What kind of book?”

“Well... that’s what I need your help with.” 

She smiled as an involuntary blush made its way to her already rosy cheeks, “I think I can help you.” 

She stood up and walked from behind the desk, beckoning the tall blonde man to go with her. The pair made their way to the bookshelves in awkward and palpable silence. The girl was panicking- she had no idea what to say. 

“I was wondering if you had any recommendations?” The Brit added to the nonexistent conversation. 

Y/N thought for a moment, “...well, I’m not sure what kind of person you are, but I recommend any classic literature to people who ask.” 

“Does the type of person I am happen to determine the type of books I like?”

“It’s the only thing that determines what type of books you like.”

The girl turned around, her fingers lightly dancing over the spines of the books as she walked. The tall man was on her heels, seemingly just as intrigued by her and she was with him. 

“Of course we have Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, To Kill A Mockingbird, Wuthering Heights, and of course, my favorite of all time, The Great Gatsby.” She was picking out the books from their places on the shelves that she had memorized over her six years of working here. She knew the placement of books and authors like the back of her hand.

The man gazed at the pile of books in her arms thoughtfully, before meeting her eyes. “I’ll take it.” 

“Which one?” 

“All of them.” 

She grinned at his eagerness. 

--

After ringing up his books and a slight burst of confidence, Y/N was able to discover the man’s name and his reason for suddenly buying four books two days after New Year’s Eve. 

Ben (a name she thought suited him particularly well) was starting a New Year’s Resolution; read one book a month. He confided in her his self-doubt on his ability, but with a small grin, she said she believed in him. His smile grew as he picked up the bag and left. 

Y/N could’ve cursed herself into oblivion for not getting his number. 

--

The girl walked across the street that next morning, balancing a coffee and a copy of the newest book that had arrived at the store. 

That was one of the best perks of her job, she thought. Access to the newest stories. While she pondered the last chapter she had read of her book, a blonde head of hair in the distance caught her eye. 

“Excuse me?” a very familiar voice spoke. Y/N’s cheeks almost immediately flushed at those two words. Deja Vu. 

“You’re back!” she spoke, almost as to question why. It’s not often someone new comes back twice, much less is standing at the door before she even gets there.

“I am,” he spoke breathily, scratching the back of his neck, “I wanted to come back to... well...” he trailed off, eyes dancing to the floor. 

Y/N waited patiently for him to say what he meant to (she knew that’s what she’d want if she was in his shoes).

“I needed to get your name, at least. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t.” 

The girl bit the inside of her cheek to stop her mouth from stretching into a grin that was a mile long. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she stared at her shoes for a moment. 

She made direct eye contact with Ben’s hazel eyes and smiled, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose slightly. 

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, his eyes going hazy as he thought about it.  

Ben followed her inside and sat down next to her desk quickly, almost as if he was afraid he’d run out of time. 

“I read The Great Gatsby yesterday... you said that one was your favorites, right?” 

Y/N nodded, taking a delicate sip from the paper cup of coffee still in her hand. 

“Right. Well. I have a few questions.” 

Y/N nodded vigorously. She could practically feel the twinkle in her eye, “I’m all ears.”

--

Y/N went home that day with a swarm of butterflies making a home in the pits of her stomach. Ben had spent the better part of four hours with her, discussing the book he read and many, many other things. 

When Ben left the shop that day, she had learned that his favorite color was clear (he thought it made him quirky) and he had a dog named Frankie. Y/N saw quite a few pictures of Frankie that day. She was a cat person, but she couldn’t tell if it was the dog or the way Ben’s eyes lit up when he talked about her that made her heart swell. 

She also learned that Ben hated reading, and that he was mildly confused as to why he seemed to enjoy the Great Gatsby so much. 

“It’s got to be because of you,” he mused, “I’ve never enjoyed reading a book until this one.” 

Y/N also learned that Ben was an incredibly smooth talker. 

He made her blush and giggle like a school-girl almost all day. It physically pained Y/N when she had to leave him alone to help a customer. She wished she could sit there and bask in him and all that he was. 

Y/N wasn’t positive if love at first sight existed before, but now she hadn’t been more positive of anything in her entire life. 

--

Y/N hadn’t had anyone new to talk to in years (she wishes that was an exaggeration). 

So you could definitely imagine the girl’s surprise to see a young British man with a shared admiration for the Great Gatsby at the book shop again before opening time. 

The day prior seemed to repeat itself. And then, every single day after that. 

For three months, Ben would come to the book store and wait outside for Y/N to come and open up. And Y/N spent three weeks barely getting any sleep and talking to her cat about how excited she was to see Ben the next day. 

Y/N and Ben got very close. 

Insanely close. 

So close to the point that Ben knew every single secret she had kept to herself. He knew the name of her first pet and childhood address (which she realized Ben could easily use to change the passwords on innumerable online shopping accounts). 

Ben knew about the one time she had an allergic reaction to a medicine she was on when she was younger, and he even knew about fucking Dale. That was a story Y/N kept to herself. But she told Ben. 

But this relationship was definitely not onesided. Y/N knew just about everything there was to know about Ben. 

She knew the names of his childhood best friends and his favorite flavor of ice cream. She knew about the one time he got arrested when he was a teenager because he was lighting off fireworks in the street at 3 am. She also knew that Ben was an actor that was currently working on a new film. But she wanted to know even more. 

Ben left every day at around 11:30. Y/N had no idea where he went or what he did, but he was never more than five minutes late before he stood up, gave her a big smile and left. 

Y/N had never been in love before but she knew with every fiber of her being, with every bone, muscle, and cell in her body that she was in love with Ben. 

And almost as soon as she realized this, there came some news. 

Earth-shattering, heart-wrenching news. 

He was leaving. 

“I have to go back to the states to finish this film in three days,” he muttered into the quiet air of the book store he had grown so familiar with, “and I won’t be back for at least two months.” 

Y/N could physically feel her heart drop in unison with the butterflies in her stomach. He was leaving, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. 

She had given him a sad smile and taken a thoughtful sip of the tea sitting on her desk. 

“Oh well. Guess I’ll see you in two months, right?” 

"Yeah,” Ben said with a grimace, “right.” 

--

The two of them spent those last few days talking quickly; trying to fit as many words into as little amount of time as possible. It felt like they were suffocating with how fast they were talking and how fast the conversation was moving. Her head would hurt at trying to process so many conversations and stories and little peccadilloes the pair were hurling at each other. 

It was like they were making up for the time the two of them knew they were going to lose. 

On Ben’s last day, Y/N told him of her fear of love and the lack thereof in her life. She told him of her strong desire to be able to relate to the John Green quote. He didn’t say much to that. 

She was so in love with him. And she didn’t think he was in love with her. 

His flight was at 1:00 that day. He left at noon instead of 11:30. Y/N felt her heartbeat increase as the seconds passed by for that last half hour, almost like she was genuinely frightened of him leaving. 

He said goodbye with the first hug the pair ever shared and a light kiss to the top of the head. Y/N’s face was comparable to a fire hydrant. 

Ben swore he would keep in contact, but with the differing time zones, Y/N knew deep down that wouldn’t happen. 

So, with a heavy heart, she caught up on some things around the shop she had been slacking on these past few weeks. 

She blinked away the tears in her eyes a few times, mentally shaming herself for being so upset this man she met three months earlier was leaving. She should’ve known. Or even better, she should’ve said something. 

The girl watched in agony as the clock hit 1:00 that afternoon, and felt a pang in her chest as she thought of him jetting far, far, away from her. 

He would never remember her. She was a quiet girl who worked in a quiet bookshop that was located in a quiet corner of an even quieter town. There was nothing she could do. 

She started sweeping lazily, letting the broom lightly drag across the floor. She didn’t even acknowledge the fact that she wasn’t sweeping anything up. 

She almost peed her pants, though, when a loud noise sounded throughout the otherwise empty bookshop and the door was thrown open the fastest it’s been in its entire life. So fast, in fact, that it fell off its hinges and onto the floor, simultaneously shattering the glass panes that made up the middle.

The girl stumbled backward in shock, her heart pumping not only because of the loud noise, but also because of the person who broke the door. 

Ben. 

The widest smile to ever adorn her pretty face was stretching across her lips. In an adrenaline filled moment, she was off the floor and in his arms. He was stiff and shocked at first, but almost immediately melted into her strangely warm embrace. 

“What are you doing? Your flight was supposed to leave 15 minutes ago!” Y/N exclaimed, the confusion finally finding its way to her intricate brain. 

“I-I couldn’t do it. Not without telling you something first.” 

Y/N’s heart was beating so hard she swore he could see it pounding out of her chest like it does in the cartoons. 

“There’s really no easy way to do this, but here goes nothing,” Ben spoke, clearing his throat, “Y/N, I know we haven’t known each other for that long but I really, really, really like y-” 

Before the beautiful, perfect man could finish his sentence, Y/N was pushing her lips against his in a mad frenzy to release a tension that had been palpable for months. 

Ben melted into the kiss faster than he melted into the hug, his lips moving against hers oh-so-perfectly. 

It felt like they were made to be together. 

It felt like Y/N had been searching for the final puzzle piece to her life for 27 years, and now here she was, standing in the middle of the bookshop on the corner with the glass door shattered on the floor, finally finishing her life-long puzzle. 

“I think I love you.”

“I think I love you too,” she whispered into the quiet that had again settled over the bookstore. 

Maybe Y/N didn’t fall in love while watching Ben read, as John Green said one of his characters did. But she did fall in love like she fell asleep. 

Slowly, then all at once. 

[ask-de-writer]

BLUE EYES : WIP : Chapter 1 : Hosted Tales

Return to @wind-the-mama-cat​

Return to Master Story Index

Return to Hosted Tales

BLUE EYES : Chapter 1

JOB OFFER

Written by @wind-the-mama-cat​

Art by @wind-the-mama-cat​

Blue eyes.

That is what they called me.

In the land of Neo San Tokyo, I lived in a small village.

I was the village protector. For a nominal fee, of course.

They paid me gold, I keep them safe.

Simple enough trade.

What did I keep them safe from?

Bandits, mostly.

See, the village, called Market, (What? Not everything can be poetry) was well, the secondary market to the main market, called Traders Town.

Now, with traders coming and going, and with all the gold flowing through the town, then tends to attract unwanted trouble. Which is where I come in.

By trade, I was a warrior. More so, a Sell-sword, or mercenary. Whatever you call me, I took gold for my services.

My sword, made from Damascus steel, was quick at dispensing anyone foolish to cross blades with me.

And no, it wasn’t named like most other swordsmen did.

So, I lived in Market, which was south of Traders Town. I defended Market from Bandits, and the townsfolk and traders called me Blue Eyes.

Now, I hear you asking, why do people call me Blue Eyes?

See, my real name was lost to me. I was found, in the forest, ten 20 years ago, when I was seven. All I had with me, was my sword, and wearing a black kimono. Not only was my name lost to me, due to a bloody bump to my head, but soon it was discovered, at least to me, that my skin and hair was different from the villagers.

Their skin was white, and their hair was black.

My skin was dark, and my hair was red.

My eyes were also bright blue.

Everyone I met had brown or green eyes.

The Mayor of the village at the time, explained to me, once I had recovered, that there was a legend of a Blue Eyed warrior that had once saved the land from a great calamity.

So, not having a name, the Mayor called me Blue Eyes.

Seemed fitting.

I was trained as a warrior for the next 10 years. I was also given a hut of my own, and when I was old enough, an open tab at the bar.

The bar owner, Named Lily, was a kind soul. Old as the village itself, and insisted on being called Mother Hen.

Mother Hen literally took me under wing, and taught all that I needed to know about life.

Why do I mention Mother Hen?

Well…

The sky was pouring rain.

I sat at my table in Mother Hen’s bar.

It was by the back corner, near the open window. More often then not, I was there. Mother Hen plied me with drinks, meals, and whatever else I might have needed.

“Blue Eyes,” Mama said, as she set down a bowl of steamy Ramen in front of me. “Look who just came in…”

She gestured ever so subtle nod towards her left shoulder.

I leaned back in my chair, and glanced over Mama’s shoulder, I quirked my eyebrow and looked at Mama.

“Imperial Soldiers?”

Mama nodded. “Stay here, Sweetie. I’ll go see what they want, okay?”

I started eating my Ramen as I watched Mama Hen approach the well dressed Imperial soldiers.

They weren’t the ordinary Imperial soldiers that roamed the major cities, and that often escorted the travelling Royals. Those soldiers wore black armour, with black under armour. No, these Imperial soldiers wore White armour, trimmed with gold, and had purple under armour. They all had katanas, and wore helmets that hid their faces. Except for the Commander, whom had her face exposed.

I couldn’t make out their conversation over the drone of the other patrons. But, I could see the Commander point towards me, and Mama nod her head to whatever the Commander was saying.

Mama bowed to the Commander, and then, walked back to me.

“Blue Eyes.” Mama said. “Commander Blackberry has a job offer for you.”

I stopped eating, and wiped my chin with the sleeve of my kimono. Mama tutted and grabbed a napkin from the table, and wiped my chin for me.

“Job offer?” I repeated

“Yes, Sweetie.” Mama nodded. “It turns out, well, The Empress needs a new bodyguard for her Daughter, The Imperial princess.”

“A… bodyguard? I asked in a shocked tone.

“Yes, Dear.” Mama answered kindly. “As it turns out, stories and rumours of your skill with a sword has reached the Royal city.” She sat opposite of me. “The Empress wants YOU, to be the the one to protect her daughter.” She smiled. “Potentially.”

“Potentially.” I deadpanned. “So, how much do I get for this potential job?”

“Well, just for you to go to the city, the Empress is offering a bar of platinum.” Mama answered.

I choked and coughed in disbelief. “W-what?”

“If you refuse the job, or, say, don’t pass the tests the Empress sets before you, You can keep the bar, no strings attach.” Mama continued. “However, if you pass the tests, and decide to be the Princesses bodyguard, well, you will be treated as a member of Royalty, and be paid 10 times that amount.”

I coughed in disbelief again. “I…”

“I told the commander that you at least go with them and hear the offer from the Empress herself.” Mama said.

“You did?” I asked. “Mama, I-”

Mama shook her head to cut me off. “It’s the polite thing to do, Dear.”

“Polite?” I huffed. “Mama… I hate the Imperial City. It’s noisy, crowded… the Higher ups look down their noses at us country folks…” I shook my head and started to bite my left pinky nail out nervous habit.

Mama reached out, and took my hand away from my mouth. She didn’t let it go, though, as she held comfortingly in hers.

“You’re making excuses, Blue Eyes.” She sighed as she shook her head. “You don’t want to leave the village.”

“I-” I began to deny Mama’s statement, but I fell silent as Mama quirked her eyebrows.

“Just go and see the Empress. Invitations to the High Palace are rare. Never to be had for us common folks.” Mama said, patting my hand. “You’ll be fine.”

I heaved a sigh. “Fine. I’ll go. But I’m not changing. If the Empress wants to see me, she’ll see ME. Not some… fancy facade of me.”

Mama chuckled “Fair enough.”

I nodded outside. “Also, It’s pouring outside. How do they expect me to get there without getting soaked?”

“A-hem.” A voice suddenly said from next to us.

I looked up at the tall figure of Commander Blackberry. “Commander Blackberry, is it?” I chirped. “I’m Blue Eyes.”

Blackberry removed her helmet,  exposing her long jet-black hair, and nodded politely to me. “A pleasure to finally meet the warrior behind all the stories.” She looked at my waist, where I kept my sword. “Is that your sword?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“May I see it?” She asked politely.

I stood up, and, using my left hand, drew my blade. I then held it out foe Blackberry to get a better

look at it.

“Interesting. It’s Damascus?” She asked in awe and shock. “Where did you come buy a Damascus sword? I understood that the process was lost to the ages.”

I sheathed my sword. “I was found with it 20 years ago. Most likely, I found it in my village. However,” I held up a finger for emphasis “Don’t ask me where my village is. Up until until 20 years ago, my memories are lost.”

Blackberry nodded understandably. “I understand. However, to answer your original question, as to how we, that is, I intend to transport you to the Royal City without getting wet, well…” She gestured outside. “I was sent with her Majesty’s Royal Caravan.”

I blinked in shock. “Huh?”

Mama stifled a laugh.

Blackberry smirked. “I am to take you to the Royal City in the Royal Caravan.” She repeated “I am to ensure your utmost comfort on the day’s journey.” She spared a glance to Mama, and then looked back to me. “Not against your will, of course.”

I looked a Mama. “I- I don’t know what to sat…”

Mama stood up “Yes would be a good idea, Sweetie.”

“I…” I sighed and nodded yes. “Fair enough, Commander. I accept the Empress’s offer. When do we leave?”

“As soon as you’re ready.” Blackberry said. “Do you need to pack any belongings?”

I shook my head. “No. What you see is what I have.”

Blackberry furrowed her brow and looked at Mama to confirm my statement. “Ma'am?”

Mama nodded. “It’s true. Blue Eyes isn’t one for belongings and possessions.”

Blackberry put her helmet back on. “Very well… Come then, Madame-”

“Blue Eyes.” I corrected her “Just… Blue Eyes.”

“Blue Eyes.” Blackberry smirked. “Okay, then. Come then, Blue Eyes. Let us depart.”

NEXT ==>

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[jacensolodjo]

Shaving Facial Hair, Especially for Newbies

Just in time for “No Shave November”, tips for new to facial hair ppl as well as those who might consider themselves veterans but want to try new things. Wet shaving only will be discussed. 

Perhaps you want a ‘clean slate’ for November? Since that’s essentially what people do. (Also I know this probably will just look like an infomercial for West Coast Shaving halfway thru but they’re who I got most of my stuff from anyways so... Listen they have good deals. Once we get to beard care it’ll swap to being most Monster for Men. I get paid absolutely nothing from either. Nothing and no one especially not me is saying you MUST buy from either. Simply that they’re easy to navigate and aren’t gonna break your bank like some other companies. And also if you’re sensitive to scents and stuff like me you get a wide range of choices when it comes to soaps and oils.)

What you need (Details to follow): 

Razor

Blades

Brush

Shave Soap (NO not just regular soap. Keep reading.)

Preshave (Not absolutely necessary but again keep reading.)

Aftershave (Also not TOTALLY necessary but your skin will thank you keep reading.)

Facial Hair Scissors

Get a nice razor that is absolutely not disposable. I use a closed comb safety razor. You can use a straight razor if you’re like... that confident in your skill if you’ve never even done regular wet shave with a disposable much less a safety razor. Which, ‘safety razor’ is kind of a misnomer because it is very not safe when you’re changing the blades but whatever. I suggest for your first one to be a Merkur. Many, many folks stand by it as a good starter, just be careful not to get one with a handle that is too chunky for your first time doing this because it can get unwieldy. You want a thinner one. Like the Merkur 33C or the 78S from West Coast Shaving. 

As for any disposable versus metal kinda deals, it really is much more cost effective to buy the handle+head then get the blades changed out at least once a week (some people say every like, 3 days if you’re consistently shaving every day but it’s really up to you and how concerned you might be about dulling. The blades are relatively resistant to it and can also stand being left on the handle for weeks if not months at a time depending on where you store it.) Bulk purchase of 100 blades (which can last months) can be as little as $10. I know not everyone has that option to spend $30+ on a razor handle+head then another few bucks on blades and that’s okay! But this guide is for wet shaving w/o consideration of disposable razors. You will get similar results, of course, but the fact of the matter is while they like to brag about having so many blades it isn’t actually that healthy for your skin. More on that in the ‘actually shaving’ part.

Also, slant is another option for safety razor head but it... it is like a grandmaster wet shaving level of razor. And yet it is also wonderful for those with sensitive skin (or otherwise hard to shave hair like many with curly hair deal with thru the sheer virtue of having curly hair even on the face). I don’t use it but I probably should with how sensitive my skin is but eh... maybe later. Anyway. Here’s a comparison of how they look:

(source: 10 Facts About Open, Closed, & Slant Razor Heads That You MUST Know Before Buy [sic])

Get a nice brush, silvertip badger hair/synthetic hair are usually what you want to get. Be aware that the real badger hair brushes can get a little... stinky for the first few times using it. Though, because of my super senses perhaps I just notice it far more than others might. But I suggest a nice synthetic on your first outing because it’s easier to understand how lathering works with the synthetic and it can be cheaper than the ‘real deal’. Don’t let the wet shaving elitists out there make you break your bank when a cheaper option works just as well. Because real badger IS more expensive no matter the handle to the brush.

Find a shave soap you like. Lots of the big suppliers have samples with generous sizing but they are not always free (a lot of the suppliers are working with smaller businesses anyways so you have to think of that). I’ve mostly gotten mine from West Coast Shaving. But there are tons of other folks out there. You may feel like supporting smaller businesses which is cool! Etsy of course has some great shops. There are also shops like Phoenix Artisan Accoutrements that feel a little more high end and for the more experienced shaver. The main thing you want to remember/realize is that shave soap is indeed quite different from hand soap (or any other soap). The secret is of course, in the lather. It has to be nice and foamy that looks almost like Cool Whip which regular handsoap just doesn’t create. Next to that, shave soap is formulated for your face and the removal of the whiskers on said face. Go on, try to use regular ol’ hand soap and see how much your facial skin and hair hates you after. (Some people like my dad use regular damn soap and then wonder why they get razor burn and ingrown hair and cuts. It’s because you used goddamn hand soap with like no lather to it.) However, it CAN go in reverse. Shave soap can be used as hand soap, just not with the same benefits. What to look for in a shave soap besides what smells good: high fat (aka tallow) content (30-50%) and glycerin are the main ones followed by things like soy, cocoa butter, coconut oil, and shea butter.

As a note, shaving cream is also an option. But not the stuff in the can you spray on. A lot of shaving cream will come in containers similar to what shave soap does. It makes creating a lather much easier, obviously, and so cuts down (haa pun) on how long your shave routine is taking.

Get a shave bowl, preferably a shatter resistant one (especially if you are just starting to learn how to balance it while in the shower or w/e or you’re just prone to dropping stuff). I use this 2-piece shave bowl that can be dropped quite often and still not even crack and it makes lathering a breeze. It is also relatively easy to hold in the shower (or by the sink whichever way you prefer). Some people manage to do the whole lather process with just one bowl and honestly I can’t figure out how. 2 bowls is the absolute minimum for me but maybe you’re a grandmaster shaver. 

Some people, especially if they aren’t going the complete bath/shower routine or have especially stubborn hair, will use pre-shave oil/gel. It’s pretty much what you’d expect from the name, you slather some on before you shave. The oil helps keep the shaving experience go smooth as silk and prevents snagging, tearing, stretching, etc., of the skin and follicles. Some people DO use only the pre shave oil, but I don’t recommend it because again, shave soap is specially formulated for shaving and has more benefits than the oil itself. 

Aftershave! It gets a bad rap. I’m sure your mental picture of using aftershave is hissing and wincing as the alcohol/witch hazel seeps in (to skin that may be slightly sensitive). Generally witch hazel actually isn’t supposed to sting like alcohol but it can definitely go on cold regardless of how warm the bathroom you have it in is. Aftershave can come in a spray, as well as a gel in addition to the common mental image of putting a few drops in your palm, rubbing briskly then patting onto your face (with y’know... hissing and wincing in pain and making funny faces). Non-Alcohol aftershaves are most commonly called ‘aftershave balm’. Keep reading for why the common image of aftershave application shouldn’t be a common sight in YOUR bathroom mirror. 

Okay so we all have our ‘ingredients’ for a great shave, right? Good. Preferably shaving should be done fresh after a bath/shower, when your hair has been softened by the hot water and your skin has been cleaned by the appropriate products (face wash and beard wash/conditioner is my preference but I guess regular soap is fine). As mentioned, not everyone has the time or desire to take a full on shower before getting to shaving. That’s cool! That’s why we have our buddy the pre-shave gel/oil. It IS suggested that you at least wash your face first if only so in case you do make a micro-cut in your skin any kind of ick on your face won’t seep into the wound. Anyways, step pre-1 out of the way. You can also choose to forgo the preshave stuff entirely if you want. It’ll just make your face happier if you give it this little shield. 

While you have been showering/bathing you should have been soaking your shave brush. You can put it in a cup if you want but if you got the two-bowl setup mentioned earlier one of the bowls is meant for softening your brush while the other holds the soap. Dump out the water you have been using in that second bowl because that’s where you’re going to lather that soap after you have ‘loaded’ it from the other bowl. Loading is just the act of rubbing the soap briskly with the brush until you start getting the beginnings of a lather going then you swap to the other bowl. You need a good ratio of water to soap, otherwise the lather will be too watery to build on your face which is no bueno. Remember: Cool Whip. It must be creamy, thick, and not drip off the brush when you hold it up. You may need to gently squeeze the brush to get excess water out, you want the brush soft and pliable not damp. If you can flick that sucker and splatter water on the wall (or... mirror I guess?? why are you doing that you look silly aim at the sink/shower drain!) there’s too much damn water in the brush. 

Time to slather it on your face! Some people say to do it in circles but honestly I’ve never been able to do that and it’s more often for those who forgo the bowls/scuttles entirely and ‘work on the lather on the face’. Broad, slow strokes back and forth works and feels a lot better (and can be rather soothing). Now’s as good a time as any to say that while media does show the whole shaving entire full beards off, it is a lot better if you trim that sucker down some. Your razor is not a pair of clippers. and this is related to the overall idea of using this kind of razor: less hair, not all of the hair. Don’t try to keep taking pass over pass on the same strip of skin. You’re just going to give yourself razor burn, micro-tears, all sorts of bad stuff. Until you get your technique down you may have to live with there being one little patch not quite as smoothed down. 

Go with the grain, not against. Some people say it’s better to go against because of how the hair is not going to naturally lie against the skin, but it can cause irritation to shave against. Follow the line of your jaw on the first pass, then start to go from cheek down to jaw. Be sure to add more soap for each pass. Although, you can do lines from cheek to jaw first, it just depends on you and what feels best. There are no hard and fast rules on this.  

As for holding your razor, with safety razors especially you basically want to let it do all the work. Let it slide down under its own weight, as it were. Keep an easy grip on it, preferably like you might hold a pencil. Then just let it glide on down and around. Too much pressure can increase the chance of microtears and cuts, which leads to wincing and hissing in the mirror when you put on your aftershave (especially the alcohol based ones), along with the classic razor burn of irritated skin.

Now, when I mentioned trimming down your beard before actually shaving you can use clippers if you want or it’s easiest for you, but you can also use facial hair scissors. The scissors can be used for ‘pruning’ your facial hair (such as snipping down an especially longer than its neighbors hair), and the clippers can be used for styling it (such as getting a neat rounded look of your facial hair). In general it’s a good idea to ‘prune’ your facial hair while it’s growing in. If only so it’s even easier to manage to later on. This helps to make it less unruly and you don’t look like a cave dweller. 

In the end, your routine does not need to be set in stone. Nor do you have to always buy the same products. Feel free to experiment not only with scents but with actual products along with the combinations (shaving soap+pre shave oil or just the soap). But hopefully this gives you a jumping off point for learning how your shaving routine should work. 

[thecloserkin]

fic rec: we get dark, only to shine by anghraine

fandom: The Borgias (Showtime 2011)

pairing: Cesare Borgia/Lucrezia Borgia

word count: 168k, unfinished

Is it canon: Yes

Is it explicit: Yes

Is it endgame: Yes

Is it shippable: Yes

Bottom line: hi my name is asdfghhkl i’ve been in fandom half my life and this is without a doubt a top 5 fic for me. i mean i got to the end and i went right back to the beginning to reread it

This is a Season 1 AU where Cesare and Lucrezia are each other’s first loves, as they ought to have been. First of all I absorbed more Borgia history via this fic than three published biographies put together (Sarah Bradford, Lucrezia Borgia: Life Love and Death in Renaissance Italy; GJ Meyer, The Borgias: The Secret History; Christopher Hibbert, The Borgias and Their Enemies). I found myself looking forward to the end of every chapter so I could devour the footnotes. This is a meticulously researched, perfectly paced, ingeniously plotted gem of a story that made all the historical details relevant. It is also a very cerebral story, which is not to say it didn’t sucker-punch me in the gut, just that it isn’t rough around the edges — it is SHARP. Lucrezia and Cesare are whip-smart; all the secondary characters are smart; the author is obviously brill and you, dear reader, better bring both your brain cells if you want to keep up.

To set the scene, we are in Rome at the beginning of the papacy of Alexander VI aka Rodrigo Borgia, the first pope to openly acknowledge his children gotten out of wedlock. The primary thing to understand about the Borgias is they are FOREIGNERS. They are from Valencia and their native tongue is Catalan; and while Cesare, Juan, Lucrezia and Jofre may have been born in Rome, foreigners they will forever remain in the eyes of the xenophobic populace. Rome is a cesspit of backstabbing and the Borgias are an unusually close-knit, insular clan. Here is an overview of Cesare and Lucrezia’s codependent-from-the-cradle relationship, intensified ofc by the hostile environment of Rome:

At first, Lucrezia would scream whenever the nurse took her away, and sneak after him at all hours. Cesare scarcely spoke, except to her. They looked like kicked puppies.

Yet it had always been that way with them: Lucrècia a little queen reigning over their games, Cèsar devoted to her.

he never paid much attention to other women around Lucrezia, even when she was little more than a prattling child.

Cesare had woken with Lucrezia in his bed more times than he could count. At eight, twelve, a newly-returned sixteen, he often opened his eyes to his sister sprawled beside him or curled up under his blankets. On more anxious nights, when she had an unpleasant dream or felt particularly troubled, he would find her pressed against him

“When he left for Perugia, one might have believed him going to his gallows. Their letters must have stripped a forest.”

Ok not to be an incest junkie on main but shoutout to the Childhood Bedsharing Trope. “When he left for Perguia” is when he went away to university, leaving Lucrezia disconsolate. When he came home following this extended absence is when her feelings for him flowered into sexual desire. The fic opens on the eve of Lucrezia’s marriage to Giovanni Sforza. Her impending nuptials are causing her anxiety:

”But I am a Borgia. I should not be afraid of anything.” “Nonsense,” said Cesare, “I fear dozens of things, myself.” “You?”

So much to unpack here:

being a Borgia means never letting the world see your weakness

Lucrezia’s hero-worship!!! she obviously thinks he’s the bravest person she knows

Cesare confessing his vulnerability, his fears, chief of which is “I fear most of all for your happiness. I shall not be able to ensure it from so far.” i am y e l l i n g

To relieve her anxiety about pleasing her bridegroom, she convinces Cesare to give her KISSING LESSONS. That’s how it starts. Did someone say I Want My Brother to Be My First because I love this song.

“Is there no one else?” he demanded. She tilted her head inquisitively. “Is there a man you would rather instructed me? Really, is there another man you would permit to touch me? To even remain alone with me? Juan? Should I ask him instead?” “No!” Cesare scrambled to his feet.

She knows exactly how to push his buttons, doesn’t she? She baits him with the idea of another man touching her—specifically Juan, his archrival—an idea guaranteed to get his blood up, and Cesare instantly shoves his scruples aside. A kissing lesson ensues, Lucrezia is married shortly thereafter, and that’s how things stand when this fic diverges from canon: Cesare stops by Pesaro to visit Lucrezia.

Now we all know how Lucrezia’s first marriage went—her husband treated his horse a sight better than he treated her. And we see her struggle with telling Cesare the truth about the abuse, because the importance of the Sforza alliance must stay Cesare’s hand from his natural impulse to pulverize anyone who hurts Lucrezia. I like how this fic draws a distinction between the family’s reaction and Cesare’s reaction:

as soon as Cesare understood, he would be set on vengeance. Any brother would, even one less devoted than Cesare. Jofrè would probably cheer him on. Juan would have strung Sforza up already. And of course, Cesare was Cesare.

Juan and Jofre are her brothers too, and neither of them would have let Sforza’s behavior slide. Cesare, though, is on a whole other level. Cesare actually sees red. The most romantic thing he does in this entire story is play chess with Lucrezia all night to spare her the nightly ordeal of marital rape. That was the first night. The second day he has Micheletto loosen the girth of Sforza’s saddle to cause a nonfatal riding accident which—honestly it makes way more sense thematically for the brother who loves her more than life to do this, than for an untutored stableboy whom Lucrezia met 5 minutes ago to suddenly exhibit master assassin skills?!! Fuck canon, this is what happened. Also fuck insta-love, I’m so glad Cesare and Lucrezia are head over heels for each other rather than some randos.

His pulse quickened in his throat, yet it was nothing he had not seen before, when he read to her until she fell asleep, talked to her as she sulked in her room, sat at her bedside wiping cloths all over her feverish head.

I’m so soft for this!!! Tfw it’s not the physical proximity to your sibling—that part’s familiar—what’s new is your feelings shifting like tectonic plates?? Askjdfkdjfd.

The thing that really precipitates the affair is Lucrezia’s brute of a husband, obviously. This fic has one or two Giovanni Sforza POVS and it does such a great job of depicting that discomfort of being laughed at by people smarter than you. Sforza was strong-armed into this match and he feels slighted by the choice of bride—because she’s bastard-born, because she’s Spanish, he thinks he’s married down. This brings him into inevitable conflict with Cesare, who will brook no insult to Lucrezia on his watch:

“My sister, Lord Sforza, is a daughter of Rome. Roman-born, Roman-bred, Roman to her fingertips. Is it not so, Lucretia?”

The POWER of this line—remember when i said the Borgias are forever seen as outsiders despite being BORN IN ROME? i felt that.

Perhaps their mother was right, and she loved him too much. Too much, at any rate, to spare that kind of love for anyone else. Sforza was a monster, but if he had not been, she still would not have loved him.

Vanozza is very perceptive; she fears her children’s all-consuming love for each other leaves little room for other attachments AND SHE WAS RIGHT. To put it baldly:

They had spent their hearts on each other, all they had to give, with only scraps left for anyone else.

“I am your brother, Lucrezia … There is a word for this. I would not have anyone say it of you.” “A word for what? … For loving me more than the baronessa Ursula, or some other woman you only half-know?”

THERE IS A WORD, Cesare intimates. He won’t even say it aloud. But this black cloud of rumor and innuendo that hangs over their family is not going to dissipate just because they refrain from giving into their feelings. The first time Cesare heard someone call his sister a whore, she was literally four years old. They’ve had to guard their hearts their whole lives because there is no one they can trust outside the family — and yet the family itself is riven by strife and jealousy (Lucrezia has a good laugh when her maid mistakes “my brother is coming to dinner” for “the Duke of Gandia is coming to dinner”— as if Juan would ever visit her in Pesaro!):

“I am the only person in the world you love without qualification or resentment or confusion, aren’t I?” “Yes … Well. Some confusion.” “And yet you pull away from me. You have spent our lives pulling away from me, because--what? There is a word? You will not even say it. Why should we care if people who hate us, hate our blood and our language and our father, use one more insult? For heavens’ sake, Cesare, you yourself told me that this friar in Florence preaches against my hair.”

!!!! The dig at Savonarola I fell out of my chair looooool

“We have no real friends here, do we? We don’t even have allies beyond the Sforza. Everything depends on Papa. If anything happens, perhaps--perhaps it would be better to go home.” “We could run away to Valencia,” he murmured, eyes distant, almost wistful.

They never entertain this as a serious possibility because “anything is better than obscurity” and sry2say a modern AU is the only place these kids are going to get a happy ending. They’re too ambitious and fiercely protective of their family for aught else.

the affinity they’d always felt flaring to life, the certainty that he could depend on her abilities as well as her loyalties. Together they had outwitted Giovanni Sforza and all of Pesaro; now there was the Pope, their family, Rome, and then--all of Italy? The world? Why not?

I say again, HE COULD DEPEND ON HER ABILITIES AS WELL AS HER LOYALTIES. Because they’re a team. Picture Cesare and Lucrezia, weapons in hand, back to back holding off a horde of enemies—but like, metaphorically. That’s the kind of partnership they have, that’s the kind of trust they share.

he would put her before ambition and glory. Even their father had not … Cesare wasn’t like the Pope. He loved her more than anything.

Meaning there are things her father would put before her happiness, but there is absolutely NOTHING Cesare would not do for her. What woman could resist this utter unhesitating devotion when it is laid at her feet??

gazing at her with all the adoration he had never offered to God

He would never hurt me. If she knew nothing else, she knew that.

She resolves to consummate their relationship, despite all her knowledge of sex being bound up with pain. Like, she literally doesn’t know if sex can even be pleasurable for women, but she wants Cesare in the face of her fear, which is impressive and heartbreaking:

there were Roman courtesans who knew something of him that Lucrezia did not, and it was intolerable. She wanted everything.

Yessss she already has the rest of him, she just wants this one last piece of Cesare to belong to her too. And as for Cesare, this is the first & only time physical attraction and emotional connection have been united in the same partner:

he had never been one to stay in a woman’s bed, afterwards, but he felt no inclination to move.

She laid her hand against his face, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone, gazing at him with her impossible mix of steady, companionable affection and rapture.

He had long known that he did not love anyone as he did Lucrezia; now he could not imagine desiring anyone as much, either.

What I love is that the romantic/sexual aspect is just another layer overlaid on what has always been the most important relationship in their respective lives; it doesn’t change the underlying dynamic:

“Have we been mauled by bears, do you think?” “Nothing so dramatic, I’m afraid. We would need scratches for that.”

This is them putting their clothes on after an assignation in the woods (they go riding a lot). What strikes me is the companionable tenor of their conspirational lies.

She relished each touch, yet there was something ordinary in it, familiar and commonplace. Your cross is crooked. Your cap is falling off. Let me adjust your sleeve. I can mend your tunic. They had always been peculiarly domestic together, a comfortable intimacy they never repeated with their brothers.

hello siblings being simultaneously incestuous & domestic is my kink byeeeee

“Cesare,” said Lucrezia, eyes widening, “am I your mistress now?” “You are Lucrezia Borgia. The Pope’s daughter and my beloved sister. The man who calls you anyone’s mistress will lose his tongue. As for you and I, we are what we are. I love you. We belong to each other. That is all.”

NO LABELS WE JUST BELONG TO EACH OTHER. Favorite favorite favorite line forever

His sister, his — lover? How could he give up either? What have I done?

Please picture me shoveling popcorn into my mouth as I type this. This is the pinnacle of everything I love about incest ships. You don’t fuck your sister unless you fucking mean it. It’s like you’re married from the first kiss. As Lucrezia explains later to someone who has ferreted out their secret: “He is not some lover to be mourned and forgotten. If I lose him over this, I lose him in everything.”

You can’t date your brother casually, the stakes are HIGH.

A lover is invented in order to explain Lucrezia’s love bites and torn clothing to her maid. Micheletto accepts this explanation as well, until one day he realizes the true state of affairs, and it’s such an innocuous little moment, it’s not like Micheletto wALks iN On tHEM or anything similarly dramatic, oh no. He is watching them—he is always watching—and he must have picked up on some subtle cue of body language or something bc all of a sudden it hits him they’re in love:

Valentino bent his head down; Lucrezia was saying something, Catalan, scarcely comprehensible through her heavy accent and giggles--Micheletto thought it had to do with the Duke of Gandía and a race. Whatever it was, Valentino whispered back to her, mouth against her ear, and they burst out laughing. There was no lover. He could not say, exactly, how he knew for certain then, with no proof, and not before or after. But he knew it. There were no others for them, no room for others: only Valentino and Lucrezia, and Micheletto watching over them.

The perfect encapsulation of this show tbh!!!

They are recalled to Rome to attend Joffre’s wedding to Sancia d’Aragon. They leave Lucrezia’s recuperating husband behind in Pesaro.

“If this all depends upon the impression that Juan makes--” “God help us,” said Cesare.

first of all, FINISHING EACH OTHER’S SENTENCES. but also, this is a delicate mission Juan’s been dispatched on—sent to Naples to woo Jofre’s bride—and i am l i v i n g as I watch Cesare & Lucrezia bond over their low opinion of Juan’s diplomatic mettle. it reminds me of that scene in S2E1 during the masquerade ball when Lucrezia asks Cesare if he can make her laugh, and IMMEDIATELY he causes Juan (who is dancing) to take a humiliating stumble and then Lucrezia & Cesare choke back giggles behind their masks. What’s great about returning to Rome is we get to see them interact with the rest of their family. The Pope is wroth with Cesare for staying so long away and for ignoring his summonses, but Cesare tells him the truth—that Lucrezia needed him:

“Your daughter, Holy Father, could wring concessions out of a saint, and I am anything but that.”

The audacity!! Cesare straight up confessed to fucking the Pope’s daughter but he said it flippantly, so Alexander heard what he wanted to hear.

Then there’s Giulia, who takes one look at Lucrezia and detects the glow of first love. Lucrezia fobs her off with the same story of a clandestine lover, assignations in the woods, etc.:

“Swear to me that you will not repeat what I have said.” “To your father? I already promised that.” “To anyone! … Father would separate us. Juan would kill him. If my husband discovered it …” Lucrezia shuddered. “That would indeed be a disaster,” Giulia said, “but I think you have forgotten someone, Lucrezia.” “What do you mean?” She touched Lucrezia's face. “Your brother Cesare.” Lucrezia absolutely froze.

BWAHAHAHA and then Lucrezia scrambles to convince Giulia that her secret is that Cesare is discreetly facilitating her affair, rather than the far more salacious secret that Cesare is her affair.

“Men,” Giulia said carefully, “say many things, Lucrezia.” “Other men,” said Lucrezia …. The very idea that Cesare might not love her!

And of course Lucrezia is in a v unique situation here but it is the lot of highborn girls in Renaissance Europe to be bartered off to seal an alliance; Lucrezia was raised to expect it. She did no more than her duty. She also recognizes the balance of power is never going to be in her favor when it comes to matters of the heart. With one notable exception, of course:

But Lucrezia had never shown the slightest inclination to guard herself from him. I love you, she’d said as soon as she could babble out the words, clambering into his lap, wrapping her arms about his neck, toddling after him, I love you best, I love you most. And now she declared herself dozens of times a day, in word or deed: whispering into his ear, laughing at his side, crawling into his arms when she could and watching him with a greedy, possessive look when she could not.

Cesare is the only one she trusts to never hurt her, whose interests are always aligned with hers, are never opposed to her family’s since Cesare is her family. The only wrinkle is, he can’t protect her adequately as he promised to. Cesare reflects that if the truth about the incest ever came out “he would be lucky to escape with excommunication, while Giovanni Sforza could violate her nightly and nobody would say a word.” The unjustness of this, the way patriarchy arrays itself in Sforza’s defense, galls Cesare to no end.

Another person who comes into their orbit in Rome is Jofre’s new bride, Sancia of Aragon. It’s historical canon that she slept with both Juan and Cesare; in this fic of course Cesare/Lucrezia are exclusive. Lucrezia can’t decide whether Sancia is predatory (she wants to bang Cesare) or suspicious (she has a hunch Cesare is banging Lucrezia). Either way:

Lucrezia wanted Sancia dead, or disfigured, or shamed--and she wanted her to leave happily with Jofrè--and she wanted Juan to take her away, to satisfy her with some kind of discretion--and for one mad moment, Lucrezia wanted everyone to know what Cesare was to her.

Sancia and Juan, by the way, conduct an outrageously indiscreet affair where their lovemaking is so obnoxious it keeps Lucrezia up at night. She does what she always does when she seeks solace: she crawls into Cesare’s bed. They’re young, they’re honry, they’re in love … but the sound of Juan pounding away at Sancia definitively kills the mood. Lmao. The next morning at breakfast Cesare & Lucrezia lay their complaints before Alexander, who gives Cesare a cardinal’s palace to live in and bids him take Lucrezia with him. So now the two of them move out of the papal palace into their very own palace. I mean, the possibilities are endless! Here is a gem from Sancia and Juan’s pillowtalk, where Juan’s assessment is simultaneously hilariously off base and 100% accurate:

“Cesare has always been a sanctimonious prude, if you ask me. At any rate, Lucrezia says he's having a fit of celibacy.” “Lucrezia?” Sancia said, nearly laughing. “What, he tells her about his—?” Juan snorted. “They probably tell each other about their bowel movements.”

Some of my favorite moments from this “Cesare + Lucrezia keeping house together” idyll: She visits him in the confessional, they hold a lengthy strategy conference about Sancia’s divided loyalties, and he wraps up with:

“Have you any other sins to confess?” “No … Well, I am guilty of the sin of lust, but you knew that already.”

LOOOOOL and how could I forget this:

She always wanted him: when he approached her, when he touched her, looked at her, when she thought of him, when someone mentioned his name.

I give you my main bitch Lucrezia Borgia, who fantasizes about being rawed by her brother WHENEVER SOMEONE MENTIONS HIS NAME. We stan a bona fide legend.

Ok so among the people they encounter in Rome are their cousins Isabel and Bernardo, who are also Borgias, and who independently unravel the truth re: Cesare & Lucrezia, which means that we get not one but two Outsider POVs which means I have probably died and gone to heaven. My friends TONIGHT WE FEAST IN VALHALLA. Ain’t nothing I love more than an Outsider POV angle on an incestuous romance, and in this case we are truly blessed because we get two. This is Bernardo as he listens to Cesare wax lyrical about his new paramour:

Yet Bernardo heard none of the wild passion or simpering folly of men in the throes of infatuation; Cesare looked and sounded less like a newly enthralled lover, and more like a man speaking of someone he knew well and liked a great deal. Bernardo felt a flicker of alarm.

Bruh you’re supposed to talk about your mistress’s tits not her personality clearly Cesare did not get the memo?? And this is Bernardo when the pieces finally click into place for him—he walks in on Lucrezia dyeing her hair:

A Spaniard, very fair? By nature? No, Cesare had said, half-laughing, and even then Bernardo caught the odd shift in his tone, from the adoration of a lover to an easy, familiar affection. And he remembered Cesare, indignant even for a young man in the throes of infatuation. She is not my mistress!

It’s the vehemence with which he denies it, the “not my mistress” part, that gives Cesare away. Because she’s not; she’s his everything. Bernardo cannot seem to wrap his head around how they can be both siblings and soulmates, since for him there is just no overlap between those categories:

Cesare certainly looked and sounded more brother than forbidden paramour. That, in itself, troubled him; if they had rejected the fact of their blood relationship in pursuit of their lusts, convinced themselves that they did not truly feel themselves family, pretended to be something other than what they were—well, that would have been bad enough. But they did not pretend. They acted less as if they willfully transgressed the boundary between siblings and lovers, and more as if they utterly failed to notice its existence.

Cesare and Lucrezia glanced at each other, their conspiratorial smiles alarmingly familiar. He’d seen those exact expressions on their faces before, dozens if not hundreds of times. They’d always had secrets, their little schemes and confidences, childish mischief. And now—what? Deeper secrets, more convoluted schemes, more dangerous mischief. Was that it? Did they lie together and think it little different from the rest?—altered in degree, but not kind? Did they … when had catapulting oranges at the unwary become a hidden incestuous affair?

This is Bernardo watching Cesare & Lucrezia argue about who “made the first move” as far as initiating their relationship:

he knew not whether he was witnessing a lovers’ quarrel or a sibling one. He felt uncomfortably that, subject aside, it sounded very much more like the latter.

I think part of Bernardo’s difficulty is the way patriarchy teaches men to think about women, and treat them as means to an end:

There were, after all, other ways to avoid a pregnancy—though in his experience of eighteen-year-old boys, they did not bother with such things, and rarely thought that far in the first place. But then, in his experience of eighteen-year-old boys, they did not fuck their sisters, either.

Because eighteen-year-old boys are typically in lust whereas Cesare Borgia has found the love of his life. Can we also take a moment to appreciate that Cesare and Lucrezia are eighteen and fourteen respectively?? This must be their canon ages. They’re not even fetuses they’re like, homunculi. I won’t bother to look it up since this author clearly has forgotten more details about the Borgias than I ever knew—as God is my witness I would take her footnotes with me to a desert island over 80% of the other fics in existence. Holliday Grainger was 22 when The Borgias started filming, and Isolde Dychauk was 17 in S1 of Borgia, and of course we’re used to Hollywood giving us thirty-year-olds playing high schoolers so it’s not as if Lucrezia’s been aged up an unconscionable amount, but wow, fourteen is young.

Isabel and Bernardo have another sister, Jeromina, whose husband’s neglect is indirectly responsible for her death in childbed. Lucrezia holds up poor Jeromina’s fate as a cautionary tale of what can happen to any woman who lacks a male protector in her corner:

”We are not speaking of Jeromina.” “Indeed not. Her brother never came for her.”

Shots fired!!! This is Lucrezia’s implied rebuke to Bernardo: that he wasn’t there for Jeromina, that Lucrezia’s own brother would never have let her down as Bernardo let Jeromina down. Later on Lucrezia even locates the origins of her incestuous passion in the same system that killed Jeromina—she describes loving Cesare thusly:

“Something I chose, for myself,” said Lucrezia. “Everything else has been chosen for me”

Excuse me while I emit a series of high-pitched pterodactyl noises. It’s a subject the fic touches on very lightly, but the topic of aristocratic girls falling in love with their brothers as a big middle finger to The Patriarchy? This is a topic NEAR AND DEAR to my heart.

Isabel is a woman and sees more clearly than Bernardo does that Cesare & Lucrezia’s attachment is not mere puppy love:

Nor did she believe that a passion built on lifelong intimacy would be easily broken.

Damn straight, this is the real deal. Isabel then takes a different tack—she suggests that Lucrezia is at an age where girls itch to exercise their power over men. Lucrezia grants her the justice of this observation but counters that she’d never use Cesare so ill:

“Do you mean to say that your distress was such that you would have seduced any man who cared for you? You chose your brother because … he was there?” ”I could not have seduced a satyr. Cesare desired me as I did him.”

I COULD NOT HAVE SEDUCED A SATYR lmao. But it’s true, she was bruised body and soul, and Cesare rode up like a white knight and the dam burst. It wasn’t inevitable, but a confluence of events forced them to reckon with their feelings. And once they crossed that Rubicon there was of course no going back. Because they fit and they’re perfect for each other obvs. Just look at my babies reminiscing about childhood hijinks:

“The night that Juan switched your glass with Mother’s,” said Cesare, “You were what, nine?” Lucrezia stared at him, then laughed. “Ten. I spent a wretched night, and morning too. What made you think of it?” “Only that we have shared every part of our lives,” he said. “There is nothing to hide or pretend. We already know everything there is to know.”

otpotpotpotpotpotpotpotpotp

I need to quote a few more Bernardo POV passages because that’s where Cesare gives us some declarations of love worthy of the ages:

”I cannot remember a time when I did not love her above all else. Above the family, the world, God. I remember nothing of any time when I have not lived for her, when I would not die for her.”

“Some degree of remorse would not go amiss.” “I regret nothing,” said Cesare. “And your—” Bernardo shook his head. “What do I even call her now?” “My sister,” Cesare replied.

tl;dr Cesare: I HAVE ZERO REGRETS NONE

“Tell me that somewhere in Italy, or Spain, or any other nation, exists a woman I could love as I have loved Lucrezia. Tell me that there is a woman who could understand me half as well as she does. A woman who would know me as I am, and not as the world or my father or anyone would shape me. A woman who would see my true nature without fear—see the mark on it—share it. Look me in the eye, Bernardo, and tell me there is any woman who is so much my own soul.”

If you don’t ship them after that speech then your mom’s a hoe, I don’t make the rules.

Cesare: I am sanctified in her.

Bernardo:

Narrator: Bernardo hardly knew where to look.

Me: ascends to a higher plane

Bernardo eventually comes around. He’s had longer than Isabel to adjust to the incest revelation, so he tries to soften the blow for her. This is the two of them comparing notes:

”The last time I saw them together, Cesare had his hand on his dagger half the time, and then they started arguing about which one of them was the more responsible, as if they’d stolen a pastry. He laughs about her hair. Outside of themselves, they treat the whole matter as a … a lark.” This aligned so exactly with Cesare and Lucrezia as Isabel knew them that she winced. Nevertheless, her dry voice didn’t alter. “How uncivil. They might at least have the courtesy to pretend that they regard the change as a matter of gravity.” “They don’t think they have changed,” he replied.

THEY DON’T THINK THEY HAVE CHANGED— winner winner chicken dinner. Finally he gets it.

So there is this ring. A family heirloom which belonged to their grandfather, which Lucrezia inherits from poor died-in-childbed Jeromina, and recklessly bestows upon Cesare. This is the visible token of her affection, this is her way of letting the whole world know what he means to her. The problem is that Isabel is the one who disbursed Jeromina’s effects, so she knows full well the provenance of the ring in question, and what it signifies that Lucrezia gave it to Cesare. Subtlety, these kids do not have it. Cesare openly wearing the ring clues Isabel in on the incest, which is maybe not the worst result ever because family is still family but damn kids you gotta be more careful. What happens next, though, is a scene that absolutely wrecked me. We get a a scene where they EXCHANGE RINGS:

“Isabel gave it to me.” Lucrezia clasped her fingers in her lap. “For my husband.” “Do you remember what I studied at Pisa?” “Civil and canon law.” “Yes.” His voice was hoarse. “Did you know that if a man and a woman consent together, the ring and vows alone bind them in marriage? The Church does not wish for unblessed marriages, but by precedent and decree, they are marriages nonetheless.” His cardinal ring rested still in her palm. Cesare closed her fingers over it. “Alexander III declared that if the parties concerned say I receive you as mine to one another, they are married as solemnly as if blessed by a priest.”

So he gives her his cardinal’s ring to wear. And when his father notes its absence on his finger he straight up admits Lucrezia made off with it, you know how i can’t deny her anything, and the dinner table conversation turns to another topic. Because Cesare & Lucrezia are apparently just Like That and everyone who knows them is used to it. For pete’s sake they are supposed to be the well-adjusted ones among the Pope’s children. Every other member of this family is further along the disaster spectrum than these two, according to Isabel’s internal monologue:

Cesare and Lucrezia, those oases of sense and proper feeling among Alexander’s children, committing incest. Adultery too, now that she thought of it. Perhaps. It depended on the particulars.

Adultery is almost an afterthought lol

Parenthetically I do wanna draw y’all’s attention to this passage:

“I will kill him. I swear to you, Lucrezia, I shall carve his heart out of his body and give it to you on a platter.” Lucrezia put a hand over his chest. “I don’t want his heart,” she said. “I want yours.”

The above passage has the same energy as this passage:

One night she had Jaime follow him, to confirm her suspicions. When her brother returned he asked her if she wanted Robert dead. "No," she had replied, "I want him horned." She liked to think that was the night when Joffrey was conceived.

That’s a Cersei POV and the thing about looking at Cesare/Lucrezia and Cersei/Jaime parallels is I feel like the former is usually more sinned against than sinning, and the latter is the opposite. Cersei doesn’t want Jaime, she wants Robert cuckolded, she wants to Show Them that she’s Lord Tywin’s daughter and nobody gets away with disrespecting her. Idk maybe it would have read differently if we’d had the same events from Jaime’s POV?

I realize that you guys don’t need any more reasons to love this fic but I want to end with the scene where Cesare’s gearing up to challenge Count What’s-His-Face, Ursula’s dumbass husband, for the insupportable insult he gave Vanozza at Lucrezia’s wedding. One thing I appreciate about Showtime!The Borgias over Canal+!Borgia is this Cesare’s relationship with his mom is much closer than his counterpart’s. His willingness to fight a duel for his mother’s honor demonstrates (1) that his sister isn’t the only woman he cares about and (2) that he puts his family first. Lucrezia’s “Return to me victorious” still slaps more than any line in actual canon, don’t @ me. In that moment, he could have slain Mars. “I will,” he promises her.

 If I don’t burn

                      if you don’t burn

                                                if we don’t burn

how will the light 

                             vanquish the darkness?

That’s Turkish poet Nazim Hikmet writing about a folk hero who spontaneously combusted of love. In conclusion no one burns brighter than Cesare & Lucrezia, the actual loves of my life.

[harris-coopers]

‘Riverdale’ heartthrob Cole Sprouse goes for leading man status in ‘Five Feet Apart’

When Cole Sprouse left Hollywood, he didn’t think he’d ever come back. He was 18, and he’d been acting alongside his identical twin brother since they were in diapers. The choice to work as a kid had not been his own: His single mother wanted to be around for the boys and have a steady career, and putting her twins in the entertainment industry seemed like a “lucrative alternative,” he says now.

But then Sprouse and his brother, Dylan, landed their own Disney Channel show, “The Suite Life of Zack & Cody.” By 13 they’d signed a licensing agreement with Dualstar Entertainment Group, Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen’s company, to develop their own quarterly lifestyle magazine, ringtones and cologne. They were full-blown teen heartthrobs.

And yet when it came time to apply for college, the twins decided — unlike fellow Disney stars Miley Cyrus, Selena Gomez or the Jonas Brothers — that they wanted to pursue higher education and enrolled at NYU.

“My brother and I were getting recognized a lot. It became one of those things that we realized we had just sort of taken as gospel since we were little kids, and that there was another path through life,” Sprouse, now 26, recalls. “I was completely content, at the time, to let the Disney shows exist within this little nostalgic bubble and I was ready to move on.”

But somehow here he is now, sitting on the balcony of a ritzy hotel smoking Marlboros, promoting his first leading role in a movie, “Five Feet Apart.” And the film, a romantic drama about two young lovers with cystic fibrosis, is not the only project he’s taken on since graduating with honors from NYU in 2015. For the past two years he’s starred as Jughead on the CW series “Riverdale,” a teen drama based on the Archie comics.

The program, which has already been renewed for a fourth season, has reignited Sprouse’s popularity. On Instagram, he has nearly 24 million followers, many of whom are obsessed with tracking his real-life relationship with his on-screen love interest, Lili Reinhart.

“Riverdale” also rekindled Sprouse’s love for acting. During college he did none of it, opting to study something completely different: archaeology, geographic information systems and satellite imaging. He became interested in the field because his grandfather was a geologist and “it seemed like an academic discipline that was really competitive and challenging. I fancied testing if I could do something like that.”

He traveled to Germany, France and Bulgaria for excavations, and on one dig, after spending six weeks hunched over a 1-by-1-foot trench of dirt with a toothpick, he pulled a 35,000-year-old Aurignacian stone blade out of the ground. Following graduation, he began working in cultural resource management as an archaeological assistant in a Brooklyn artifact laboratory. He was thinking about going into academia: studying at graduate school, researching a specific time period or peoples and becoming a professor.

But then he heard from his acting manager, who, per Sprouse’s request, had left him alone during his four years at NYU.

“He asked me to come back for a single pilot season. I was on this path, but I said ‘OK, if I don’t book anything, I don’t think I want to do acting anymore,’” he says. He did book something — “Riverdale” — and soon began to realize it wasn’t acting itself he had an issue with.

“From a very young age, the industry had been defined as a business,” he continues, “and it took me going away to school for a while and redefining that to find [performing] as a passion again.”

On “Riverdale,” Sprouse’s Jughead is a something of an outsider — an artsy writer with a signature beanie and leather jacket. Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa, the show’s creator, initially thought the actor might be a better fit for Archie, the lovable jock. But after reading the pilot script, Sprouse expressed interest in Jughead — even though the character only had one scene in the episode.

“It was already kind of a sign that he viewed himself differently,” says the showrunner. “I think Cole is an old soul. He’s done a lot, and he’s seen a lot, and I think that gives him a little bit of wisdom that other actors his age might not have. When he smiles, he looks like a true 15-year-old kid. But when he furrows his brow, he looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.”

When it came to tackling his first adult movie part — he and his brother were in Adam Sandler’s “Big Daddy” as boys — Sprouse didn’t want to stray too far outside of his comfort zone. Recognizing the persona he’d established on “Riverdale,” he chose to play a similar archetype in “Five Feet Apart”: Will, a brooding teenager whose rebellious spirit attracts his romantic interest, played by Haley Lu Richardson of “Split” and “Support the Girls.”

“This role was interesting in a larger business sense, because a return to film also meant a question of how much of [the ‘Riverdale’] audience would turn out,” says Sprouse. “I didn’t want it to feel so incredibly distinct.”

The CBS Films production, out Friday, follows two CF patients as they fall in love but are unable to physically touch due to risk of cross infection. Cystic fibrosis is a genetic, progressive disease that affects lung function, making it difficult to breathe; the average life expectancy for the 30,000 afflicted in the U.S. is 37.5 years.

Justin Baldoni, who makes his directorial debut on “Five Feet Apart,” is also an actor on a CW series: “Jane the Virgin.” But he and Sprouse never crossed paths at network affairs. Instead, Baldoni began thinking of him for the role after catching some of his interviews on morning talk shows.

“Cole’s a great actor, but I was actually more interested in who he was off-screen,” explains Baldoni. “Cole had to grow up a lot faster than the normal kid. He was surrounded by adults: directors and producers and writers and people that were basically employing him. … When you grow up with cystic fibrosis, you grow up with doctors and nurses. Those are your friends. You learn medical terminology. You have to understand regimens and taking care of yourself in a way that regular kids don’t. You’re forced to grow up a lot faster. So there was an interesting parallel between Cole’s life and Will’s life.”

Baldoni came to “Five Feet Apart” having steeped himself in the world of CF. He had the idea for the film while working on a web series about those with terminal illnesses, “My Last Days.” One of the episodes focused on an 18-year-old girl named Claire Wineland, a CF patient whom Baldoni became so close to that he ultimately hired her to serve as a consultant on “Five Feet Apart.”

Sprouse spent a lot of time with Wineland, who died last September three months after filming was completed, talking about how CF affects both the mind and the body, including how the disease makes it difficult to gain or maintain weight. Together, he says, they came to the conclusion that it would be “a really powerful choice to embody that physicality,” and so with the aid of a nutritionist, Sprouse lost 25 pounds over the course of five weeks.

Sprouse initially told Baldoni he was somewhat hesitant to sign onto “Five Feet Apart” because he knows the scrutiny that films in this genre — “The Fault in Our Stars,” “A Walk to Remember,” “Me Before You” — can face for romanticizing illness.

“But I’m a believer that even if it might feel like the volume is a little bit too high within that genre, it still serves as an amazing platform to discuss something like cystic fibrosis,” says Sprouse. “And the star-crossed lover narrative — this is something that has existed before Shakespeare to Ovid and Pyramus and Thisbe. It’s part of our cultural memory bank. It’s one of those motifs that we just understand so well.”

Sprouse, who has the kind of poster-boy mane that’s perfect for brushing out of his eyes, frequently peppers his speech with these kind of literary references. He and his brother were the first ones on their father’s side of the family to go to college, which is “positive upward momentum” he’s proud of. Someday he hopes to spark a larger conversation about the California High School Proficiency Examination, a test that many young actors take at 16 so they can receive the legal equivalent of a high school diploma and no longer be considered minors.

“It basically cripples young academics who are working children from feeling capable to take the SAT and the ACT,” Sprouse says. “So many of us don’t go to college because our skill sets are not defined enough to be able to take those tests that would eventually allow us to apply. And kids are encouraged to do it because if you’re 18, you can work more hours and hypothetically make more money — and also because as a kid, you always want to sit back in your high chair and go ‘Yeah, I’m an adult.’”

On set, his collaborators have come to value his intelligence. Aguirre-Sacasa says that Sprouse “does a ton of work” on the “Riverdale” scripts, asking questions about the scenes and offering different points of view.

“A lot of times our episodes are homages to different films,” the executive says. “So Cole asked: ‘Can you send me a list of the movies you’re referencing in any given episode?’ And I’m that exact same way.”

While Sprouse no longer dreams of leading excavations in far-off lands, he’s found another non-acting passion that fulfills the “desire for learning and otherness” that archaeology did: photography. A few years ago, he walked into One World Trade Center in New York wearing a button-up T-shirt and asked the receptionist at Conde Nast Traveler magazine, “Hey, can anyone give me a job?”

He was pointed in the direction of former creative director Yolanda Edwards, who was willing to toss him a few unpaid assignments. Since then he’s landed a handful of high-profile gigs for Elle, W Magazine, Adidas and J Brand. He’s planning to spend the majority of his upcoming hiatus from “Riverdale” working as a fashion photographer.

Sprouse showcases some of his work on his Instagram account, which he admits is “very curated.” He’ll often delete old photos of himself, and he’s careful not to post too many photos of his girlfriend, Reinhart.

“I’ve girded my private life very intentionally,” he says. “It’s one of those things that I still sort of grapple with, and Lili and I grapple with.”

Asked if he thought about how much attention dating his costar might garner, he says he had no choice in the matter: “We legitimately could not stay away from one another.”

Beyond Reinhart, he and his cast mates — who film in Vancouver — are exceptionally close, especially of late, as they grapple with the loss of “Riverdale” costar Luke Perry.

“It’s been very, very hard this week,” he acknowledges, referring to juggling his film press responsibilities with his grief. “But the family has asked us all to keep it as private as possible, and I respect them tremendously through this time, so I continue to do so. We go back tomorrow, and it’ll be nice to be together. We all got together and talked it out a couple days ago, and then they gave us a couple of days off of production to acclimate, which was really wonderful.”

As for his future as an actor, Sprouse says he doesn’t expect to leave Hollywood again any time soon.

“It’s easy to forget, because this industry has so many different sides to it, that the act of acting is an incredibly enjoyable thing,” he says. “It’s a really empowering thing to do and it’s all the stuff on the outside of it — the publicity and the celebrity — which I actually had a problem with.”

Source: LA Times

[kurenafujio]

An Example of why I don’t debate much in my comment sections on YT/Tumblr/FB/ETC. (It’s Endless) | TLDR at the End

@omg-whydidimakethisaccount

"You do know that racist people did the same thing for Black Panther right? “Innocent people are getting called racist for no reason because they didn’t like the movie!” For a while people believed it, including me. Then as time passes a lot of people started realizing that people were claiming this happened.....but no one actually sees it. And while I’m sure a few people have, the fact of the matter is that racists spread the rhetoric for a reason"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EhKFv92JGqM

All throughout the comment section you see people saying “I’m black and I don’t want Ariel to change.” And black people are complaining all over the internet about it being racial pandering. Which-it-is. You just aren’t looking for it. Have you never heard of the phrase that the dumbest people are the loudest? Of course you’ll run across racists. They’re the loudest of them all. But they’re not the only ones who are upset and it isn’t “just a few.” That’s just your confirmation bias. “For a while people believed it, including me.” You think that you woke up to some new epiphany but you’re just viewing everything in extremes.

"It’s quite similar to conservatives labeling everything “sjw”. In hopes to make people’s points valid, we label them as names such as sjws or snowflakes."

You’re using the same tactics by labeling everyone racist who disagrees. Just because racist people have an issue with something doesn’t mean that everyone who has an issue with it are racists. How tf can you be mad that people exploit the phrase “sjw” when you are exploiting the word racists for the SAME REASON.

"And that’s what people did for Black Panther. The racists were very vague on what their comments were but they spread this agenda that people are being called racist left and right. That people are hunting down poor souls stating an opinion and harassing them. This of course wasn’t the case, but the power of the internet sure made it seem so. But like I said, smart people started noticing that this was not the case."

This isn’t the same as Black Panther. He is a real superhero who was originally black and his movie was very cultural. So it brought up controversy and there was a lot of racism involved. However, Ariel is a Disney character who already has a character design that people love and have been drawing for decades. Black people (yes BLACK PEOPLE) have made themselves clear. They want new original characters to represent them. Not to have their skin tone slapped on a white character for pandering and re-branding purposes only.

"And this is the case for pretty much any movie that causes stir due to race such as this. Now I’ve been on a lot of social media platforms. Reddit, tumblr, YouTube comments, twitter, etc etc. I barely see people refer a person that doesn’t like the casting a racist......w/o reason. Racists spread the lies for Black Panther because they knew they would be called out for their racists comments so they hoped that referring people who called them out as “sjws” would somehow stray away from that fact"

“w/o reason” is vague. I’m not going to take your word for it that their reasons are good because you’re the same person who said that only a few people are black and or genuinely just don’t want her character to change which is clearly false. Which I have already explained. And again with the Black Panther. Just because you didn’t see those comments for what they were during THAT particular movie, doesn’t mean that every movie that has a black character will only get criticism from racists. You have no sense nuance.

"And sadly that is going on with Halle Bailey. My friends were accused of being “sjws” for simply calling out a racist who didn’t like Black Ariel. Like I said my black friends also don’t like her but they aren’t being racist they just don’t like the actress. However when they called out an actual racist that reposted a “sea monkey” post in response to Halle’s castings they were harassed for calling a person racist over a “joke”

Your situation with your friends is just confirmation bias. That doesn’t speak for all situations. Hence me linking you the video that I sent you. Also the seamonkey thing is clearly a racist joke but that has nothing to do with my original point. You literally just said you know people who genuinely don’t want her to be black and are black themselves. But instead of being nuanced and thinking, “Oh, some people are racists and some just don’t want her to change” you take away from it, “most are racists and very few don’t want her to change.” It’s ridiculous. You’re not being objective. And why does someone have to be black to not want her to change without being racist? That’s a bigoted way of thinking within itself. 'If you’re white and you don’t like her, you’re probably racist.' No.

"Some people didn’t even know what was happening. They just saw “innocent person gets harassed because they stated an opinion” and started harassing my friends too. And like that, the Black Panther fiasco cycles it’s way back to the internet"

This isn’t the same as the Black Panther incident.

“I get it. You are a proud person. You want everyone to have a chance to state their opinion. Sad thing is, that’s not the problem here. There’s a bunch of actual racists convincing people that they should be upset over this when in reality it’s a damn movie. And sadly people fall for it. I used to be one of these people. When Scarlet Johansson plays Asian characters I followed the crowd saying “she’s a good actress, the character is an android anyways, who cares!?!?” 

No? You clearly didn’t even watch my video. I stated several times then and now that I KNOW that SOME people are racist who feel that way. However, you have NO RIGHT to label EVERYONE “most likely racist” for not wanting Ariel to be black. That is a hive minded way of thinking, you can’t compare this to Black Panther because the complaints are completely different, and the point that I originally made in my video is that people are not nuanced. You are thinking in black and white. Just because I am willing to acknowledge that a LOT of people just genuinely don’t want her to change and aren’t racist doesn’t mean that I am saying that NO ONE or MANY PEOPLE aren’t racist who feel that way. I’m saying its a mixed bag of opinions and not to lump every stranger who complains about it into one big group. How the hell can you complain about people labeling everyone sjws for a conservative agenda but at the same time you are labeling everyone who isn’t black, who doesn’t like this casting choice “most likely racist.” It’s not objective at all and you aren’t any smarter from the Black Panther incident by doing this. You don’t even realize that your mistake in both of these cases is that you looked at the responses in black or white. Either ALL/MOST complaints are racist or ALL/MOST complaints are not. That is a horrible way to discern the truth of any situation. And that mentality is exactly what I was ranting about in my video.

"But then to see the same people who I’ve sided with on the Ghost of the Shell debate all of a sudden throw a fit when a Black person is casted as Ariel? I realized there is something wrong. I didn’t accuse them of being racist. Because then I would’ve been racist. So I asked myself, why are people so weird about this sort of stuff? It’s cause our society was racist from the start. We value white skills, and we can make them take over any minority movie."

“The same people.” Who are these people? Again you are lumping everyone together. It’s so ridiculous.

"But when a minority takes a traditionally “white” role even though it’s not exclusive, all hell breaks lose. I don’t find all NotMyAriel logic racist.....but a lot of them come from racist rhetorics. When you go down to their core, they are very simple in logic. And the reason they are simple is because the racists spurred out the nonsense first. People just don’t realize it"

Not only is your own logic very simple minded but you aren’t even familiar with the term “Racebending Redheads” Which has been a trend lately. For some reason redheads are just raceless as characters and can just be swapped out with a black person. They keep doing it in movies and redheads are also complaining about this more and more. There are a lot of redheads who have an issue with Ariel’s new casting choice and rightfully so.

“ I mean do you know how many “What if we made Pocahontas white” I’ve seen? Or “What about Danish culture and redhead representation?!?:” all of which Danish people and redheads don’t give a damn. But that’s why these arguments are so....silly"

Lol but redheads do give a damn. Racebending Redheads is a thing. And yeah the Danish argument may be silly but you are literally cherry picking! What the hell? Did I ever bring up Danish culture in my video? Nope. Why not address the argument that people would rather see Princess Tiana as a Jamaican Actress than a light skinned African American who is from the same culture. Why? Because her character is dark skinned. So yeah this isn’t a cultural issue which is even more of a reason why you can’t compare it to Black Panther lol.

"Anyways, sorry for commenting so much. You seem like a well rounded individual and it’s always sad to see intelligent people fall into the same trap I fell into. Basically just really dig deep into these conversations"

TL;DR

You’re so condescending though. Insinuating that “smart people” are the ones who are “seeing through all of these lies.” I don’t agree with you so by your statement I am “not smart” until I do. In other words, you’re apologizing for the wrong thing. Like I said, you’re cherry picking what to argue against and then when its something you can’t argue against you just say crap like, “I used to feel the same way. Smart people are seeing through it. Did you know x y z that is completely unrelated to any of the good points that you made? Oh and I personally experienced a b c which is also unrelated to your 20 minute video.” Those aren’t counterarguments or realizations. It’s just bs and you aren’t listening to anything that disagrees with you whereas I am reading all of this junk and responding to what YOU SAID and countering it. Not replying with a bunch of unrelated strawmans and whataboutism.

[dovakhiindrabbles]

19 with Brynjolf? X

Thank you so much for the request!! I’d be more than happy to do it!! I’m so sorry for the long wait, however, I’ve been busy to no end lately and I haven’t been able to update all my blogs!! I hope that isn’t an issue!!

 Anyhow, thank you again and enjoy!! Have a splendid day!! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)˚๐*˟ ♡

19. “Forgive me. Not for my sake, for yours. Forgive me.”

———————————————————————————————————–

 "The Thieves Guild?“

General Tullius nodded, giving you a report in hurried, urgent writing, the ink splotched throughout the parchment.

“Yes, they’re spreading, and they’re spreading fast. If we’re to handle the Stormcloaks we can’t have this organized band of thieves robbing our caravans and camps.” He explained, his fingers skimming across the war table as he thought. “we need you to handle that.”

“How so?”

“As valuable as you are in the battlefield Legate, both sides are at an impasse at the moment,” Rikke remarked, approaching you, her eyes narrowed and stern. “meaning you have an opportunity to go undercover. Just as you did with the Thalmor Embassy.”

“You um… you know about that?”

“It didn’t take long to figure who was the certain person who snuck into the Embassy to learn about resurrected monsters… Dragonborn.”

“Right…”

“But this time, you won’t be caught. You are to join the Thieves Guild, and send back reports to us, informing us of weak spots and areas we could attack. Once they’re shut down we can return our attention to the Stormcloaks.”

“You want me to be your spy then? Your spy on the inside?”

“Exactly.”

“But it is the Thieves Guild. They’re going to expect me to steal.”

“All of the belongings can be returned once the organization has been exposed and destroyed. It’s not a problem as long as you’re able to keep track and maintain your secret identity.”

“You may be saving us in the future Legate. If the Guild remains we may lose even more funds and time than we already have,” Tullius furrowed his brow, peering closer. “This is imperative.”

“Will you do this?”

You nodded, letting out a deep breath as you met his gaze.

“Of course, sir.”

And you were off.

You followed the rumors to Riften where the seaside stench and constant uproar of angered, bitter sounds could’ve perhaps been enough to drive just about anyone out.

But for some reason just couldn’t seem to do so.

Least of all a man who couldn’t happen to stop the mischief in his tone for the life of him.

“Now, what’s someone like you doing out in a dangerous place like this?”

You turned to look at him, eyes narrowing as you gestured to your gear and weapon, a soft simper echoing from him.

“Always liked a person in armor.”

“Oh please.”

“Alright, all jokes aside – you look like you can take care of yourself,” He peered forward, lowering his voice. “Looking to make a bit of coin?”

You perked up at his offer, practically feeling the puzzle pieces connect in that moment.

“I’d love to in fact.”

“That’s just what I was hoping to hear.”

He drew you close, whispering a plan in your ear that sent a pang of guilt lurching in your heart, your hands furling uneasily into fists.

“So, that sound like a start?”

“A start to what?”

“Get the job done and you’ll find out.”

The job itself was simple enough, snatching a ring hidden behind a safe and slipping it into another man’s pocket.

Simple in design, but difficult in execution.

At least in your mind.

Every fiber of what made you, you screamed at you to stop, your feet just about heavier than cinderblocks as you crept forward to drop the silver ring into the man’s pocket.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to watch as guard’s hounded after the man, revealing the ring despite his horrified and denying protests. Almost a lump in your throat as he was dragged off without a single word from those among the crowd.

Just acceptance.

“I hadn’t known you were a professional,” The man sniggered, snatching you from your thought as a hand dropped onto your shoulder. “You picked that lock as if it were as simple as breathing.”

You recalled the times you’d pick through the Stormcloak locks and treasury, the satisfying click as it’d unlock and reveal its secrets.

“I’ve uh… I’ve had experience.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” He remarked. “I think you’ll get along wonderfully with my sort.”

“Your sort…?”

He glanced from side to side, clearing his throat as he spoke once again. “If you’re interested, meet down in the Rataway. I’ve got a proposition for you.”

“I’m not interested without a name.”

“Oh, so you’re that kind?” He scoffed. “Don’t worry, I like that kind.”

“I’m Brynjolf, don’t wear it out.”

You opened your mouth to respond but were unable before he was already gone, melding in within the crowds of people as if he were a simple shadow along the cobblestone path.

But it was hardly the last time you saw him.

You came to the Rataway – wearily, to say the least, the murky stench wafting in the ‘tavern’ as commonly as air as you crept inside, your feet light and hesitant.

Until you heard a voice.

“You came!”

Brynjolf.

“This is the one I was telling you about Delvin!” He gestured to another woman, stark white hair drawing around her cheeks. “Vex! Come see!”

“This is it?” The woman barely gave you a glance, glowering. “I’m not impressed.”

“They did better than you did on your first try- “

He was cut off as she jabbed his stomach, a cough sputtering from him in his shock.

“They don’t look the type,” Delvin grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. “They look well off.”

“A-And how do you think I got that?” You muttered, trying to quiet your own stressed, overflowing worries.

“You stole it?” Vex jeered. “From where? Give us details.”

Truthfully, you had earned it, nothing more than that. Certainly not from theft.

“I- “

Brynjolf stopped you both, smacking Vex’s shoulder as he drew her away from you.

“Both of you quit harassing them, they can steal, and they can steal good. That’s what matters.” He looked to you, smirking. “I’ve got a good feeling about them.”

You refused to admit that your heart may have skipped a beat in that moment – because it absolutely did not.

Not in the slightest.

“Whatever,” Vex dismissed, already peering off to other things. “If they can settle those debts we’ve been meaning to take care of then it should be fine.”

“Debts?”

“People owe us coin,” Delvin answered. “Deal with that, and Mercer might just welcome you with open arms.”

“Think you can manage that?” Brynjolf asked, approaching you much calmer than the others. “If you want to secure a spot with us, you gotta be willing to get your hands a little dirty.”

“With us? What exactly is us?”

“The Thieves Guild.”

It hadn’t even taken a second.

“Consider it done.”

Truthfully, your form of handling the debts was letting the people know you would handle it yourself – the sudden worry that’d hit their expressions suddenly replaced with relief as you’d assure them there’d be nothing to fret over.

But no one else had to know that.

Regardless, Brynjolf had been ecstatic at the news that you had finished the job, swinging an arm over your shoulders as you were introduced to Mercer.

“This is them?” He scrunched up his nose, looking you up and down. “They should do fine. Brynjolf I expect you to show them the ropes- “

“Of course, wouldn’t want them stumbling around- “

“No, I mean as their partner,” He returned to the stack of letters drowning his desk. “You were so passionate about them joining – only makes sense that you’re the one to show them the ropes.”

“Mercer, you know I work alone- “

“Not anymore,” He barked, folding his lips. “That’s not going to be an issue is it?”

Brynjolf shook his head, his brow furrowed. “I… I don’t see why not.”

“Good – then get to it then. Delvin and Vex have some new jobs that should turn us a profit.”

Your new partner seemed almost in shock as Mercer shuffled off, the two of you left in the center of the Guild.

“I um… I guess we better get to it, then shouldn’t we?” You offered, trying to give a short smile.

He shot up, trying to excuse himself.

“I-I’m sorry I’m not disappointed… I just… I’m not usually one for two-person jobs. I work by myself most of the time.”

“Well, I guess a change won’t hurt,” You nudged his shoulder playfully. “I don’t think I’m half bad.”

He gave a smile, a real and true one that sent knots tying in your stomach despite your denial of such a thing.

“I don’t think you are either.”

And from then, you were practically inseparable.

Where one went the other followed, the two of you always chattering to one another, growing from Brynjolf’s initial jokes and ideas, to stories and memories recollected and shared between the two of you.

Even on the longest trips from across Skyrim, you didn’t even mind, watching as the man might try to show off his skill – nearly getting you both caught in the process.

But even he would have his quiet moments.

The times when you’d sit in the bars late into the night, or settle in your camps, the only sounds being that of the wind or the floorboards creaking beneath you.

“Would it be odd to say I’m happy?” He murmured once, sitting down across from you in the tavern, his eyes glazed over as he tipped back in his seat.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve always been… fine with how things are in my life,” He muttered, his voice soft and quiet – hardly above a whisper. “but I hadn’t even been… happy – honestly and truly happy.”

“What changed?”

“You did.”

You couldn’t even begin to describe how red your face became as that processed through your head, heat radiating from you in mere seconds.

“W-What exactly do you mean by that?” 

He laughed softly. “I think you already know.” 

“You don’t have to feel the same, I’m not trying to be that type of person but-” 

You don’t quite know what came over you then.

The very words you knew you should’ve never said – no matter how badly you wanted to – were said.

And you knew, you would regret it to your very core.

But not yet.

“I do.” 

“What?” 

“I-I do.” You blurted out, already that little voice inside of you beginning to beg, plead for you to somehow take it all away. “I-I feel the same way.” 

“You know as much as I enjoy pushing your buttons… I’m not doing it this time.” 

“I know – I meant what I said.” You nodded, assuring him as his eyes widened like saucers, failing to mask the smile that pulled up at the corners of his mouth. 

“Well, I suppose I can say that went a lot better than I was worried over,” He chuckled, staring down at your hands as they laid out on the table. “does that mean I get to hold your hand or something those saps like to come up with?”

You cocked your head up, the very idea sending your mind reeling. “If you want.”

He stood up, helping you to your feet as he ribboned his fingers with yours, grinning like a fool. 

“I most certainly do.” 

From then, the whole world seemed to shift.

Not truly in a grand or large way, but small – in little ways that made your heart flutter like it may burst from your very chest. 

Now even when speaking with Vex or Delvin he’d ivy an arm around your waist, teasing you lightly when red would trickle onto your features.

Or when he’d attempt to be stern or serious you’d pepper him in kisses and watch as whatever words he’d try to come up with would disappear from his very train of thought. 

But reality still always came back.

Even if in the worst possible way. 

You had set up in one of the homes you’d bought in the holds, your body practically melting into the bed as you collapsed beside Brynjolf. 

“You act as if you’ve moved a mountain.” He joked, pulling you close. “Don’t tell me stealing is that exhausting for you.” 

“And if it is?”

“You must be awful glad Mercer didn’t have you work solo,” He mused, his brows raising. “I wonder how long you would’ve lasted.” 

“I would’ve been fine!” You exclaimed, scrunching up your nose. “just might’ve been a bit boring.” 

“Well, I thought I was the life of the party.” 

“And who told you that?”

“You know, I don’t appreciate that accusation,” He purred. “but for your information, it was me.”

“That’s what I thought!” You sniggered, ruffling up his hair playfully. 

He huffed as strands became wild and tangled, curling over his eyes in an utter mess. 

But despite it all, he stared at you, a sort of warmth you had never seen drenching his eyes before he let out a sigh.

“Damn, I love you.” 

“I… I love you too…!” Your delight only seemed to grow as you conceded, his arms only further ensnaring you as he erupted into one of the few bits of laughter you ever heard from him – the utter epitome of delight in his voice. 

Yet as the hours drifted off and your quiet chattering and whispers to one another grew into drowsy breaths and yawns, you heard a faint knocking on the door. You pried yourself away from Brynjolf, quieting him as he began to stir sinking back into sleep as you pressed a chaste kiss to his nose.

You made your way to the door, opening it to reveal a Legion soldier, a letter clasped in his grip as he peered to you, speaking.

“It’s from General Tullius. Stormcloaks are beginning to rise again and spread in Morthal. The Guild needs to be shut down. Soon.”

That was when the regret set back in.

It tore through every bit of you like a vicious poison, each secret and detail you had learned now inscribed in letters that left the Guild beginning to wear and break away. 

Until it came to one final area.

The Guild itself.

The Rataway.

And you were to be there for it.

“I don’t know what’s got those Imperial bastards catching us everywhere Vex!” Brynjolf had exclaimed, sauntering into his seat beside you. “It’s making it hard to steal a damn brush at this rate!” 

“Maybe you’re the issue!” Vex snapped, her lip curling. “Maybe if you weren’t such a sucker for your partner-” 

“Stop while you’re ahead!” He snarled, his hold curling into fists. “Because I won’t be hearing it.” 

“Of course you won’t.” 

She skulked off in a huff, disappearing within the bits of people still remaining.

“Are you okay?” You questioned, grasping his shoulder tenderly. 

“It’s just… it’s ridiculous!” He growled. “Sure, we weren’t exactly doing too great before but this is horrible! It’s like those soldiers are everywhere!” 

“I’m sorry.” You muttered, tears brimming at the edge of your eyes as you heard the faint sounds of footsteps clamoring above.

They were coming.

“It’s alright… sometimes these things happen,” He smiled, failing to hide the exhaustion lining him. “we’ll get it sorted out. It’s not your fault.”

You swallowed hard, a lump growing in your throat by the second. 

“But it is.” 

He furrowed his brow, confused as he began.

“What do you mean?” 

You choked back a sob. 

“Forgive me. Not for my sake, for yours. Forgive me.”

He opened his mouth to question you further, pure bewilderment painting him.

But he couldn’t even get the words out before the doors burst open.

Legionnaire soldiers poured in, barking orders with swords and weapons drawn and threatened as thieves were pinned and arrested. 

“Love run-” He called out to you before he was caught by a pair of troops, worry drenching him as you did nothing but rise to your feet.

Yet as you were addressed it clicked in his head.

And you couldn’t even begin to describe his misery.

“Legate! Thank you for the help, this will aid us greatly. You’ve done us all an immense service.” 

And despite it all, you didn’t feel pride or even acceptance.

Just a pit where your heart lay in shambles.

But that was nothing in comparison to the broken, silent man in front of you.

Nothing at all.

“It was my honor.” 

[limitedrevolverworks]

[>>>]

You always found the word ‘oxymoron’ rather funny for reasons so quaint they shouldn’t warrant an explanation, but never like now has the full brunt of its significance made itself manifest. ‘A commodity that provokes an inconvenience’ definitely fits the bill, but the worst part, the punch that puts any hint of a smile K.O., is the realization that the moron in question is you. You’re the idiot for thinking how stupidly troublesome it is to have a driving license, a car, and your son’s school at barely fifteen minutes from his cram school. But you can’t really help it: now more than ever, you envy the humanoid sardines who have to press against each other every morning in an attempt to reach their destination while hopefully keeping their bone structure from becoming flatter than a paper. It would make things easier, relatively speaking.

You wouldn’t have to sit alone inside such a minuscule, intimate space with the sole company of your serene-looking son and the fresh knowledge that he’s the ringleader of a middle school gang, for example.

It’s been five minutes now. Exactly zero words have left either of your mouths, and at least one of them seems contraried by the fact that the other is curved into the hint of a smile that looks at a time peaceful and absolutely bereft of any guilt. It drives you nuts, to put it bluntly. And not just in a ‘I’m absolutely pissed by your attitude, you impudent son of mine’ sense. There’s plenty of that too, make no mistake, but the fact of the matter is that you honestly, genuinely feel as if you’re about to lose your wits and see them scatter about like light particles that turn normal clothes into a frillier version of themselves.

You can’t make sense of it. Of the truth you’ve been too blind to see. Of your son’s true colors. What really tugs at your heartstrings though, it’s that you weren’t ready. You, who spent your adolescence kicking monster tail by shouting flower names and erupting lasers from your heels. Miss Himawari Sonomura VonVermillion. You’re married to someone who barely fits any of the criteria that define a human being, and you’re having a harder time coming to terms with your apparent failure as a mother.

Ah. Yeah, that must be it. This isn’t a problem you can solve by yelling at the top of your lungs (as much as you feel like doing that) and punching it really, really hard. There’s no stuffy manual detailing the laws and rules that dictate how to properly face this challenge, either. You’re at a loss. No, let’s be fully honest here: you feel like it’s entirely your fault. The kid’s still his father’s son. You just thought you could overwhelm that truth, but you really ended up blinding yourself with a misguided sense of justice. Can’t blame the clouds if they feel like raining every once in a while, right?

It’s not that easy unfortunately, or you wouldn’t be waiting for the red light to turn green with your forehead buried onto the steering wheel. The main problem, paradoxically enough, is that you love your son. Of course you do, dimwit! Despite it all, Kyouya’s still Kyouya, not some terrible monster whose sole desire is to turn people into vegetables. Besides, you already tore that one apart almost two decades ago. Also, if it’s monsters we’re talking about, you already crossed the line by becoming the bride of their chief, so these moral quandaries shouldn’t even be such a big issue for you in the first place. But they are. They are and it hurts, because want it or not, you had expectations that were betrayed, worries that came to fruition, and an inability to realize it until it was too late. If it even is anyway. You don’t know. You may be a qualified lawyer, but in this moment, you feel like the most ignorant person on the face of Earth, and even viler than that. Like, almost as much as your husband. And that’s really damn vile.

Green light. There’s still about fifteen minutes to share together before reaching the cram school, where your beloved Valdios will likely settle the issue with some enthusiastic praises for your son, a bemused shake of his head in your general direction, and infernal teleportation to avoid the unavoidable punch you’ll attempt to throw towards his face. Your hands are sweaty rags tightly wrapped around the steering wheel, and you’re pretty sure that your teeth at this point are more ground dust than solid bone. You’re not exactly in the best condition to hold a delicate conversation, or any kind of conversation for that matter. It should be fine to leave things hanging, then. There’s no use in trying to solve a problem when you haven’t been able to think of a solution, or even to fully grasp the problem itself to begin with. Right? Right. R-i-g-h-t. Ri...ght...

Oh, hell no it ain’t right.

Come on, woman, remember who you are. Those fists of yours have met more chins than they’ve been caressed in their life up until now. The worst hellspawns still fear you, and rightly so. You were---no, you are a flame that burns brighter than the sun it dauntlessly faces. Are you going to back down now that your kid needs you the most, only because your adversary is your own stupid self? Hah, as if! Swallow it down, that venomous lump in your throat, and speak out loudly. You can’t, you won’t let it stifle the depth of your love if it’s the last thing you do.

“Do you have anything to say to your mother, Kyouya?”

“Absolutely nothing, mom!”

Goood at least throw me a bone here, kiddo! You ain’t making it easy for your mother, you know!?

Alright, alright, deep breath and then go for take two. Also watch OUT FOR THAT RED LIGHT... good job, you barely avoided breaking the law at the cost of nearly strangulating yourself and your son with the seatbelts. Sounds like the perfect opportunity to try again.

“R-right. So you have no idea what me and your teacher might have talked about?”

“Mmh, I wonder...?”

Look at him. Tilting his head and smiling that cutely, with his rosy cheeks and hair redder than yours. He would look like such an angel if it weren’t for the fact that he’s blatantly hiding the most devilish of intentions. It’s almost scary how sincere he looks, as if he really believes there’s nothing his mother dearest should be worrying about. ‘Almost’ because he’s still a long ways from the achieving the top in the VanVermillion school of mellifluous nonchalance.

Not for a lack of trying though, looks like.

“Kyouya.” Your voice is a disappointed whisper as you tilt your head to shoot a sideway glance at your son. That and rowdy screaming are the only two tones you feel capable of holding at present, so you really just decided to go with the one with less chances to attract the attention of the other cars.

“Yes, mom?”

“Have you been up to no good?” Such a simple question, and yet it feels like it took all your energies to tear it out of your throat. But you force yourself to do so, and to turn your head to witness your son staring back at you with the same sweet face as ever. His clean, prompt answer takes even more out of you.

“Not at all. In fact, mom, as of late I’ve been performing nothing but good deeds!”

He’s too far gone. There goes the pure and pristine image of your son, floating away from your desperate grasp. Goodbye, old hag... ahahaha...

NOOO! Come back, my precious, fragile flower! Too far! Too late! Your fingers are grasping nothing but the solid emptiness of the steering wheel. Huh? Hey, welcome back to reality, now press that pedal. It’s turned green in a while, already, and the cars behind are growing noisily restless.

“Goo---what’s so good about bullying?!” Calm down, don’t lose your cool! You can still save it, so lower your voice, you former delinquent! Just because you don’t want him to follow in the same footsteps as you doesn’t make you any less of a hypocrite!

“Nothing, of course. That’s why I’ve taken matters into my own hands, so to speak.”

“What, by becoming a bully yourself?”

You have to wonder what’s so funny that’s making him laugh behind the hand he uses to cover his mouth. You swear you can see your bewildered face reflected in his shiny, painted nails, however.

“Is that what Miss Takemoto told you, mom? You grown-ups really like misunderstandings, don’t you? No, I’ve never bullied anybody. I hate people like that, just like you... but, see, bullies right? They usually target loners, even though they’re the loneliest people of all. So I’ve taken away their reason to bully, simple as that!”

The grinding of gears inside your head sounds like rusted metal brushing against sandpaper and is half as efficient in your present state, but you think you’re starting to see some semblance of the greater picture as envisioned by your clearly amused son. At least you hope, because anymore confusion at this point would knock you out for real.

“By... making up a group?“

“Yes, exactly!” Aww, he seems so proud of your understanding. You’re not entirely sure whether the clapping is there to ridicule or praise you, though. “Bullying pretty much means ‘Give me attention!’, so by giving them the sense of cohesiveness and belonging of a group, they don’t have to seek attention anymore, since they’re already giving it to each other. It wasn’t easy at first, but it turns out that being able to lift the teacher’s desk with the auxiliary use of some magical power can be a pretty convincing display to support one’s offer. Isn’t it brilliant, mom?”

“Huuh...” Wonder whose parent’s vocabulary he learned the most from... Sure, the way he puts it does sound a lot less dire than how the teacher put it, to the point where you find yourself subconsciously nodding but... “W-wait, that’s not all I’ve heard. The teacher also said that you guys extort text answers from other students! What’s so magnanimous about that?”

“Oh, that...” Far from seeing him taken aback, it’s his shrug that counters your failed offensive with impressive skill. “Some students find the answer sheets by themselves. The deed has already been done, so me and the others just make sure that everyone else can reap the benefits by politely asking these people to relinquish the goods and spread them among their classmates. Nobody has to suffer low grades like this! It’s... what do they call it... ah, yes! A necessary evil! Adults do much worse than that, so surely you can overlook that much, no?”

Can you? It’s not like you can see anything with clarity right now. Might be because of the hand plastered against your face, or the silhouettes of your husband and son’s faces levitating on the windshield while they chant ‘You can overlook that much? Can’t you? Can’t you~?’ You actually do shoot a glance at your son’s extremely self-satisfied face just to ensure he didn’t actually shoot a minor curse in your general direction - better make a point to interrogate your husband just in case. Last thing you need is to learn he’s been giving your children lessons in the dark arts behind your back - you’ve been adamant about that ‘til this day, but you can bet that the edict will grow even stricter following what must have been the most tiring conversation you’ve had in years. And you’ve had lots of them, really: par of the course when you married a man who cannot quite understand the ethical conundrum involved with turning the postman into a hedhehog-shaped monster because he put a couple more publicity ads in your mailbox than desired.

You glance at the clock on the dashboard: around five minutes and you’ll have reached your destination. Five minutes you could fill with reprimands, perhaps even a slap, or, why not, words of praise for this eloquent brat who took one page too many from his father’s book and haphazardly mingled them with some from your own.

None of that ensues. You merely reach for your son’s head and, without looking him in the eye, brush the hop of his head with slow, immeasurable gentleness.

“Okay then. We’ll talk more about this later. Be sure to behave at the cram school.”

Lest you’d have to receive a phone call from a teacher telling you about your son set everyone straight by beating them up while dressed in a cutesy purple outfit dripping with magical photons.