#the title is from a song by The Shyness of Strangers

[cursedmoon-doll13]

If It Serves You.

(Headmaster!Severus Snape x Reader)

Cw: Non/Dubcon + Aftermath, Afab Reader, Dark-ish Snape, Unprotected Sex, Powerplay, Sex as Bargaining, Facefucking, Crying, Fingering, Creampie, Begging, Degradation (use of slut) and Praise, Reader calls Snape ‘Headmaster,’ Former Student Reader, Mentions of Torture/Child Abuse, Denial of Feelings.

READ WITH CAUTION

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: As a professor of Hogwarts, your past ambitions, your fragile hope and unrelenting diligence have all led to nothing. Now, you are powerless beneath the rising force of He Who Must Not Be Named and his army of Death Eaters. The only thing left you have to give is your pride; your weak and vulnerable body.

Or, you beg the new headmaster to show mercy to your students in exchange for sexual favours.

Dividers by @/saradika

Of course, there was no pressing need to check and recheck the potions’ storage. Certainly no need to catalogue it twice. You did almost it out of instinct, or force of habit. Yes, It’s healthy to maintain a routine, including routine inspections, just like- just like-

“Professor ___,” comes a gruff voice from behind. In your nervous state, you imagine it is a Carrow, and freeze in panic. “Why are you here?”

You whirl around. No. It’s Professor Slughorn.

“Oh,” you straighten your robes. “Horace. I was just taking inventory.”

“Were you? I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.” He says brusquely.

“Of course, of course you can.”

Your voice carries the same placid, appealing tone with which you’ve used to calm your pupils. You wince at the sound of it. Then, his expression loosens. Not immediately, but little by little, settling into the creases and wrinkles of stress and age. His walrus moustache droops into a familiar frown.

“I’m… I’m very sorry, ___,” he says. “Whenever I leave my storage unattended for too long, I take this terrible notion that some very bright and brilliant student is going to brew a polyjuice potion. Heh.”

His laughter rings rather hollow.

“Yes, those were my thoughts exactly,” you concede, heaving a sigh. “It would be so simple. Not for all of them, but some of our best could do it. And then they would make a reckless attempt at escaping, or even try to impersonate one of those Death…”

You stop yourself, and peer carefully into his face.

You’ve noticed how Horace has visibly deflated, how he has lost his colour over the past few months. How could you not? You would never accuse the Slug of being slovenly, but you’re well aware that beneath all the powder his eye-bags are as sunken as yours.

“It is unfortunate that one of my… One of our best…” It seems that he cannot finish his sentence. Nonetheless, you know who she is.

“It’s a very unfortunate thing,” Professor Slughorn mutters idly. “Very unfortunate…”

He’s fiddling with a ring on one liver-spotted finger. His lips purse periodically, as if a throb in his temple is threatening to burst.

“Horace, It’ll all be alright,” you try to reassure him, knowing you cannot guarantee this.

The only response you receive is a distant nod. He does not stop fussing over his ring. Then, he turns abruptly stony again:

“Well, then,” he says. “You’d best be on your way.”

He dismisses you as curtly as he would a student, but you don’t protest. You know that when you leave, he will pacify his anxiety with a sleeping draught.

As you exit the dungeon and traverse the silent halls, the early winter chill rattles straight through your bones. It seems that Hogwarts grows colder each passing day; colder and emptier. Even when teaching, your classroom is as quiet as death.

Alchemy has never been a popular elective, and now you are down to very few students. Some had also disappeared completely over the Summer, mostly those without Pureblood status or families to support them… You try not to ponder too deeply on it. For their sake - and perhaps also for your own - you keep it together.

Yes. You must stay stubborn and strong. Especially considering what you are about to do now.

You shiver in your thin robes outside of the Headmaster’s office. The griffin sentinel glares haughtily down at you, and for a second you fancy it alive, judging you guilty for some crime. Thinking this, You glance this way and that, wary of onlookers. 

But all of the students are asleep; or at least, they should be. Most of your coworkers have also retired for the evening. You here stand alone. 

You take a deep, shuddering breath. 

“Sugar Quill.” Your voice echoes eerily. 

The griffin does not budge. The new headmaster has changed the password, of course. You suspected as much, but it was still worth attempting.  

“Amortentia,” you try next. No response. 

You shift, acutely aware of how ridiculous you must appear; a Hogwarts professor stumped by a statue. 

“Polyjuice. Veritaserum. Bezoar… Asphodel.” 

Nothing. 

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” you huff, already spiked with tight, uneasy tension. “It was so much easier when Dumbledore…”

A low, heavy rumble breaks your train of thought as the spiral staircase emerges. You quickly mount it and climb upwards, boots clattering on the rising stone. It gives way to a large study lined with bookshelves.

You’ve made it into Dumbledore’s office. 

Except it is no longer his. You must remind yourself of this fact often, and each time it stings, like a tiny pricking thorn ingrown into the heart. The study is far draughtier than you remember; devoid and bereft in the absence of Fawkes.

No, Albus is not here. Instead, what scowls over at you from behind the Headmaster’s desk is the unmistakable face of Severus Snape, and he does not appear pleased to see you.

“Kindly inform me why you are in my office.” His voice is slow and measured, but you can sense the venom lurking underneath. 

“I don’t remember ever giving you the password,” he continues, alighting from his chair. “Or have you picked up that nasty eavesdropping habit from one of our pupils?” 

He spat that last word as if it was a curse. 

“No, Severus,” you say quickly. “I guessed it.” 

Severus. Or Professor Snape. But now…

You think you catch him pale ever-so-slightly, or perhaps that is the dim lighting of the room, casting dark, creeping shadows across the floor. While there has never been a cordiality or warmth to your relationship, you recognise that you have been spared the worst of his barbed hostility.

Before now, that is; now, the distance between you is far too great. 

“Did you now?” He sneers.

In response, you draw up, mindful not to appear challenging as you tip your chin. 

“I’m here because I have a proposition for you,” you announce clearly. “I hoped you would be reasonable and hear me out.” 

Snape’s eyes narrow icily and suddenly you are in his Potions class again, overseen with strict authority. One wrong move, and the concoction will spoil and poison you. His black robes billow as he approaches, expanding like the hood of a cobra. 

“There is nothing you could possibly offer me,” he says, folding one shrouded arm over another. “And so there is nothing to discuss. Leave.” 

Your nerves are strung so tight, you can’t help but object: “The Carrows are far too cruel in their methods! Too brutal. The students-” 

“Are very fortunate to have been granted mercy by the Dark Lord,” Snape interrupts, and you swallow thickly. Of course, you could not have forgotten the festering dark mark that now itches underneath his robes, writhing and serpentine.

“But it isn’t enough,” you say, throat sandpaper dry. A rush of urgency floods your system. Now. It needs to be now, before you lose your courage. 

(A gash on the cheek, a row of dark-purplish bruises and welts, a swollen eye, whippings and burns, scars from chains, all so frightened, but brave still.)

“If you agree to grant my students your protection,” your voice falters. “I will give… Myself to you.”

The silence that follows is agonising. His expression is indecipherable; taut and stiff. You’re beginning to think that maybe you weren’t transparent enough. 

Your trembling hands drift towards your top buttons, and you start to undo them bit by bit. 

“Stop,” Snape orders. 

At this, you freeze. Your heart plummets starkly into your intestines. Oh. You hadn’t even considered that he would - or could - reject your offer. You fear you may have tipped the bubbling cauldron over and left it melting through the carpet. As you linger numbly, Snape’s tongue darts between his lips. Light flashes behind his stern black eyes. 

Perhaps he’s considering it, perhaps… 

“Come here,” he says sharply. You obey. 

Shuddering in the winter chill, you watch the slow bob of his Adam’s apple, the twitch of his lids as his gaze dips steadily downward… Snape’s forefinger comes to brush the fabric from your shoulder, his knuckle grazing your collarbone, and your pulse quickens anew. 

“I’ll do anything,” you plead. “Please, Severus.” 

“You will refer to me as ‘Headmaster,’” he corrects.

“Headmaster…” 

You suck in a shaky breath. Standing this close to him, you can make out the lilac rims of his sunken eyes and the worry lines on his forehead. 

He’s tired… The thought springs to mind, unbidden. 

The hand that tends to the rest of your buttons is not rough, but the coldness of his touch makes you flinch. Snape pulls down your outer robes in one swift motion, and you can’t help but gasp. Your nipples perk from the chill, skin prickled with goosebumps. Underwear was unnecessary, and though you knew that from the start, you are stripped so quickly it still leaves you cringing. He moves to fondle your breasts, and your breathing shallows. You stare desperately towards the floor, towards some old, faded tea stain.

“Fall on your knees, ___,” he tells you. 

You kneel quickly in front of him, and he moves to cup the nape of your neck. You don’t need to be instructed; you do your best to steady your hands and unfasten the button over his crotch. You nudge out his dick, and see that he’s already half-hard. 

Before he changes his mind, you spit into your palm and use it as lubricant as you get to work jerking him off. You can feel him watching you, silent and still. This situation is completely wrong, all wrong, but the awkwardness of it is almost juvenile. 

“___,” he calls above you. You stiffen. You know that cautionary tone. “If you have enough cheek to wag your tongue at me, you can also use it for this.” 

You nod faintly, licking your lips. Of course, you should have prepared for this, too, but you have barely even steeled your nerves. Hesitant, you lean forward and run your tongue along the shaft, tracing a vein. Your movements are practically mechanical; dispensing small, kitten licks over the tip, continuing to stroke him. This is now a kind of out-of-body experience for you, the sort of bizarre circumstance you can only encounter in a very strange dream. 

But then, Snape decides your next course of action for you, clutching your jaw and muffling your whimpers as he sinks into your mouth. 

A teardrop falls softly onto your chest, and it only occurs to you now that you’re crying. You gag out a sob as the tip of Snape’s cock hits the back of your throat, unable to prevent loose spit from dribbling down your chin. Above you, his breath hitches. 

“Open your eyes,” he demands. 

You didn’t know you had closed them; squeezed them tightly shut. You peek up at his pale face. 

His pupils are blown wide, almost entirely black. Snape forbids you to keep eye-contact with a firm grip over your head, and you gag again as he rocks his hips. You clutch his thighs for purchase while he fucks your face, tears streaming down your cheeks. For distraction, you try to focus on him, and his pleasure-stricken expression lulls you in like hypnosis; the tightness of his lips, his dark brows slightly furrowed, the minute twitches in his jaw. 

Snape’s thrusts begin to stutter, but he tightens his hold on you and forces you to take all of him. He drags in a sharp intake of breath, and warm, slightly bitter cum pools onto your tongue. 

“Swallow it. All of it.” 

You gasp for air, gulping it down hastily. 

“You'll be getting used to the taste of me. Stand.” 

Snape urges you up and steers you over to his table. Before you can blink, you’re whirled around and caged against his desk. The edge of it cuts harshly into your naked thighs, and you yelp. You can feel his long black hair sweep over your neck, a sensation that is almost ticklish. Snape yanks down your robes and they fall limply around your boots. Now, you are truly exposed, shivering and naked. The only source of warmth is his body heat pressed into your back, the starched, dark fabric of his clothing. 

His cool hand dips around and feels down your stomach, and your breath hitches as Snape unexpectedly plunges several fingers into your pussy. You shock yourself with how slick you are, mortified at the way he tsks behind you:

“Little slut. Is this what you’ve always wanted?” Snape hisses into your ear, spreading the pads of his fingertips over your labia, teasing your clit. 

“Yes!” You choke out. 

“Yes, Headmaster,” he pinches your clit warningly and it feels like an electric shock. 

“Yes, yes Headmast- ah…!” 

He starts to rub in rough, merciless circles, and you immediately try to stifle a cry against your wrist. Snape rips it impatiently from you. 

“Don’t even try to deny it. I can feel how wet you are.” 

It’s surely not the truth. Surely, you tell yourself... 

One long, deft forefinger slips into your slit and pumps steadily in and out. You let out a soft moan, unable to resist the quivering thrill that coils in your abdomen. You didn’t realise he would even try to prep you, and, against your will, you feel some of your fear dissipate. 

“You think I didn’t notice, did you?” He scoffs. “Always so desperate for my attention, always clamouring for a better grade.” 

Memories of your seventh year at Hogwarts resurface and spiral dizzily in your head. The newest, youngest professor, but strict and competent, and— 

Dark, sweeping cloak, black hair, black eyes… 

I even once wished I could brush away the strands…  

Then he retracts his fingers, slowly, torturously, You hate how you yearn for his touch in its absence, how you crave the buzz to smother your discomfort. 

Snape bends you cleanly over the polished table, your still damp breasts pressing into the hardwood. He traces a long, thin finger down your back, tracing languidly across your spine; you could almost believe his touch is tender. Almost. Instinctively, you try to turn your head to face him, but he denies you with a firm hand gripping the base of your neck. You whimper as he lathers cold precum on your thighs, positioning his straining dick over your entrance:

“…Or was it praise you were hoping for?” His voice is low and subdued. Snape’s breath fans over you, and for a moment you falter.

No, of course you don’t expect— 

No, not from Professor Snape. Only your best was acceptable. To elicit a nod of approval, or even a commending glance, you couldn’t possibly hope—

“Headmaster, I— I only ever wanted you to…” 

“Beg for it,” his tone sharpens again. 

Snape slips the tip of his cock inside your folds. But then, he stops, and does not move. You are trapped between his desk and him, left pitiful and squirming. 

“Headmaster,” you say weakly. “Please.” 

“Please what, ___?” 

You grit your teeth, still bristling at the indignity of it all. But you know that, whether he’s enjoying himself or not, Snape has the patience to wait this out. 

“Please, fuck me!” you plead.

You gasp as he grips your thighs and slides himself in further with a lewd, wet sound. Your walls stretch around him as you adjust to his length. He groans softly and rolls his hips, sinking deeper into your cunt, until you’re utterly full of him.

Despite it all, it feels sinfully good, but his movements are so sluggish that you can’t help but whine pathetically into the wooden table. 

“And what exactly is it that you’ve always wanted?” 

What I always wanted, when I was in Potions class… 

“For you to p-praise me, Headmaster.” 

In an instant, you realise this is true. Deep down, you have always hoped for his sole attention… And now he’s invading that dark, primordial world in between, spurring on those secret and forbidden desires you should never have conceived. 

Snape slowly pulls out, dragging every inch of his cock, and then snaps his hips back in, briefly hitting that sweet, sensitive spot that has you seeing stars. 

“Please!” You add, letting out a shrill moan. 

“And do you? Do you want this…?” 

He mutters so quietly, it almost sounds like he’s begging you. Snape’s pace is set now, rocking powerfully into you as you fill the air with loud, desperate whimpers. 

“I do!” You breathe, mind-numbingly uncertain. 

But it doesn’t matter anymore if you want it or not; the sensation is so overbearing and so ruthless, unforgiving and unfair, just like him. You’re barely cognizant of the arms that curl around your naked waist, almost embracing you, until they provide cushioning against the sharp desk. 

“You take me so well,” he murmurs, “So well.” 

Your head spins, threatening to give up on you completely. You could never have predicted such a drastic change in demeanour. The way he’s treating you now is so different from his earlier cruelty; his affectionate caresses might be almost loving. 

“So tight, so good for me…” He groans again, heavily, and the vibrations thrill up your spine as he spears you on his dick. “You’re doing perfectly.” 

He kneads the soft flesh of your thighs, sighing blissfully. You can feel the spiking thrum of Snape’s heartbeat, the soft touch of his lips on your neck, kissing reverently over your shoulder blade. You wish you could just see the expression on his face, if you could only see Severus for one moment…

“Headmaster,” you pant, craning your head. 

“Don’t,” he says hurriedly. “Don’t look at me.” 

Snape doesn’t relent, forcing you firmly in place with a hard squeeze on your shoulder. There’s something thick and vulnerable in his voice that you can’t place, but all you can respond with is a needy cry as he speeds up, angling his thrusts just right. You can feel the familiar shock of pleasure coiling up in your belly now, surging from how deep he reaches. 

“I’m the only one who can fuck you like this, aren’t I?” He snaps without warning, bursting with emotion again. You can only nod frantically in response.

“Yes, yes, Headmaster!” You sob, your eyes stinging with tears again.

Snape’s movements only grow stronger, his breathing heavier and huskier. His fingernails are digging small, half-moon indents into your skin. You don’t try to stifle the wanton moans that spill from your lips anymore, clawing for purchase at the wood. 

“___… When you cum, you cum for me.” 

Uncontrollably, you arch into the table. Your leg is cramping up from the exertion, muscles pulled taut, and you’re going to, you’re going to—

Your orgasm drowns the rest of your thoughts in static, white, hot bliss that smothers you. Snape shudders and moans as he buries himself to the hilt, pumping you full of his seed. His black cloak sweeps over you as he pulls out, far too soon, leaving you quivering and dripping with his cum.

The last, mangled strands of lucidity swim hazily in your mind. It takes a moment for you to remember why you were here at all.

After a few seconds, he releases you from the confines of his desk without a word. You bend down and hoist the ring of fabric up past your hips again, though your skin is sticky and damp. After a deep, shaky breath, you dare to glance at Snape. 

There’s a thin sheet of sweat beading his forehead. Snape helps you pull your robes over your shoulders. He silently fastens your buttons back up again for you, and his touch is surprisingly gentle. You don’t rebuff him. Your hands are trembling enough as it is. 

“Promise me that you’ll…” You halt.

Your vision is still blurry, but you could swear he looks like the old Severus. Not the figurehead or the professor, but the man. The Severus you once knew. 

There’s a strange look in his eyes that you don’t understand, and maybe you never will. 

You’re so dead tired you can barely drag your feet back to the staff’s living quarters. You wake Minerva— or, no, she is already occupied by her usual routine of restless pacing, tugging at her tartan dressing-gown. While she does interrogate you a bit crossly, you can tell she empathises with your ‘insomnia.’

After that you gulp down a contraceptive and stumble into bed, boneless and weary. You don’t cry at all, though you feel that you probably should.

In a way, you’re glad that Minerva doesn’t appear concerned or worried for you. That means she hasn’t found out. There was a persistent paranoia in the back of your mind that she had, that Minerva had seen or heard or sensed it somehow.

You wonder if she’d feel disgusted, or if she would simply pity you. Maybe that would be worse.

You flick your wand and flush out the light.

No. No one needs to know what you’ve done.

A month passes. The grip of winter releases its hold, and spring emerges in its wake, fresh and pure. It’s as if you can finally breathe again.

You hope that you do not imagine the way your student’s faces regain some semblance of warmth. You hope you do not imagine the unmarred bodies, mercifully free from wounds. You also hope that it is not their own schemes or plans that embolden them.

They should leave those matters to you.

Somehow, it feels like the nightmare is almost over. But not yet. Not yet. You still await your orders, and nurse lofty dreams of freedom in your heart.

When night falls, you strip off your underclothes and climb the spiral staircase once more. It is not excitement that tightens your chest, but it is also not dread. Perhaps something else you also do not understand, and cannot afford to think of now.

Headmaster Snape is standing by his desk. You realise he’s been waiting for you. He has that strange, mystifying look in his eyes again.

He offers you a hand.

“Come here,” he says.

[lvllylix]

Whispers of the Heart

Title: Whispers of the Heart

Song: Super Shy by Newjeans

Pairing: Jeongin x reader

Word count: 950

Warnings: fluff

Summary: The reader harbors feelings for Jeongin but believes he doesn't even know their name. A chance encounter during a quiet moment at the park leads to a heartwarming connection that goes beyond words.

--

The sun painted the sky in hues of gold and pink as you sat on the park bench, a book in your lap and your thoughts adrift. It was a peaceful afternoon, the gentle rustling of leaves and distant chatter creating a soothing melody.

Jeongin was at the park too, his laughter mingling with the breeze as he played a game of catch with his friends. You admired him from a distance, a soft smile gracing your lips as you watched his carefree spirit.

Though your heart raced every time you saw him, your feelings remained concealed beneath layers of shyness and uncertainty. In your eyes, Jeongin was a radiant star, while you were just a silent observer, a nameless face in the crowd.

As the sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow across the park, Jeongin's friends departed one by one, leaving him alone on the grass. Your heart skipped a beat as he wandered closer to where you were sitting, his gaze capturing your own for a fleeting moment.

His smile was warm, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he approached. Your pulse quickened, your cheeks flushing as you returned his smile, hoping he didn't notice your fluttering heart.

"Hi," Jeongin's voice was soft, like a whisper of the wind.

"Hi," you managed to reply, your voice barely above a murmur.

He hesitated, his gaze lingering on you before he gestured to the empty spot beside you. "Mind if I join you?"

Your heart pounded against your ribcage, but you nodded, shifting slightly to make space for him on the bench. Jeongin settled beside you, his presence a mixture of comfort and anticipation.

"I've seen you here a lot," he began, his tone casual.

You swallowed hard, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your book. "Yeah, I like coming here to read."

He nodded, his smile genuine. "That's cool. I always see you with a book. What are you reading?"

You glanced down at the book in your lap, your mind racing as you tried to form coherent words. "Um, it's a romance novel."

His eyebrows quirked up in interest. "Oh, really? I've never been much of a reader, but I like hearing about books."

Your heart swelled at the conversation, your shyness momentarily forgotten as you shared your thoughts on the book's plot and characters. It was as if time slowed down, and for that brief moment, it was just you and Jeongin, talking about something you both enjoyed.

As the conversation flowed, you found yourself becoming more comfortable around him. His presence was warm and inviting, and he listened attentively to every word you said. For the first time, you felt like he was truly seeing you, not just as a stranger but as someone with thoughts and feelings worth sharing.

The sun cast a gentle, golden glow around you, the tranquility of the park wrapping around you like a cozy embrace. And as the conversation shifted to other topics – favorite movies, hobbies, and dreams – you realized that Jeongin was just as eager to get to know you as you were to know him.

"You have a really nice smile," he commented, his gaze sincere.

Your cheeks flushed, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you. So do you."

Jeongin's laughter was soft, his eyes crinkling as he grinned. "You're making me blush."

The realization that he felt just as nervous around you as you did around him filled you with a warmth you hadn't expected. The conversation continued to flow effortlessly, the park becoming a sanctuary of shared laughter and exchanged stories.

As the sky darkened and stars began to twinkle overhead, Jeongin let out a content sigh, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

You followed his gaze, the beauty of the night enveloping you in its serenity. "Yeah, it really is."

A comfortable silence settled between you, the words spoken and unspoken carrying a depth of understanding. It was at that moment that you realized that you were more than just a nameless face to Jeongin. You were someone he wanted to get to know, to connect with on a deeper level.

"Can I ask you something?" Jeongin's voice was gentle, his eyes never leaving the stars.

"Of course," you replied, your heart fluttering with curiosity.

He turned to you, his gaze soft yet intent. "I've seen you around a lot, and I've always wanted to know your name."

Your breath caught in your throat, a mixture of surprise and joy flooding your senses. "My name is

Y/N."

A warm smile graced his lips, his eyes holding a newfound warmth. "Y/N, it's a beautiful name."

Your heart swelled his words like a melody that echoed in your ears. The unspoken feelings that had lingered between you were finally given a voice, a connection formed through shared moments and whispered conversations.

As the night wore on, the park became a cocoon of shared stories, laughter, and a connection that was beyond words. Jeongin's hand brushed against yours, his fingers interlocking with yours in a gentle, reassuring grip.

"You know," he began, his voice soft, "I've always wanted to get to know you better."

A shy smile tugged at your lips, your heart brimming with happiness. "I've always wanted to get to know you too."

And in that quiet moment beneath the stars, you and Jeongin found solace in each other's company, the whispers of your hearts creating a connection that transcended shyness and uncertainty. As you leaned against each other, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the gentle cadence of your shared laughter and the promise of countless more moments to come.

[notasapleasure]

Stupidly long playlist to go with the stupidly long fic. In short, it follows a kind of meandering path from Icelandic youth to swaggering mercenary behaviour on the continent, to service in the Varangian guard in Constantinople. It is very much in an order I chose, and should be listened to in order. I designed it to have them coming closer together and parting ways at various points, and it follows a very rough outline I have for three 'books'' worth of adventures.

Bit more info about each track under the cut, but basically it's Weird FolkTM, Icelandic rock, a smattering of prog, and some entirely self-indulgent pop picks.

Sumer is icumen in - you may know from Wicker Man soundtrack? Everyone's go to creepy folk song because it's one of the oldest. Included because of cuckoo theme. Kólbítur - Icelandic term for 'coal-biter', a character type in medieval stories and folk tales. Usually a lazy boy who rolls around in the hearth ashes as a child getting in the way of the women. After some trauma he is usually revealed to be a great hero, who just needed a bit of goading on. Vísur Vatnsenda-Rósu well known Icelandic ballad, full of longing and intertwined personhood: 'mine was yours and yours was mine'. Nitlayokoya - kind of a spoiler for the fic, but Cassian isn't actually a 'skraeling' (Norse name for the American peoples encountered around Newfoundland), he's from...way further south. This song has the same title as poem by Nezahualcoyotl, meaning 'I am Sad', though this wasn't composed until the fifteenth century. Get Out of My House is based on The Shining, so there's the link to Native American land, and there's shapeshifting in the song too. Seems a good angry bb Cassian song. Filthy Game a stranger and a good man gets drawn into the locals' 'filthy game'. The Devil & the Huntsman mainly for the Sam Lee, but also a rollicking banger from the King Arthur soundtrack. Vibes. The Dark general foreshadowing and vibes. Don't Say No - there's a lot of Patrick Wolf on there, this is early Patrick Wolf urging us to run with our instincts :)) and teeth. Shapeshifter there's also a lot of Richard Dawson in various iterations on here because he does Weird Folk like no one else. Shapeshifter so impressive he's even handing out potatos pre-Colombian exchange. Pagan Poetry best fucked up Björk song everrrr. 'He makes me want to hurt myself'. To Try for the Sun just boys being lads, sharing coats and hanging out on the streets, nothing to see here. Teardrop this is how you do a cover. Theseus 'A black sail billows, the sun hits your blade / And you are hungry, you are hungry for you'. Jolly Bold Robber I love the way Nic Jones sings this. A 'jolly bold robber' attacks a young sailor who's just come ashore with his earnings and they fight - moral is don't fight a desperate sailor who wants to spend his shore leave well. But the way Nic Jones sings 'like lambkins they've stripped' sure is something. And the apology in the sailor's voice for killing his attacker. Feels very Cassian. Two Brothers - any folksong 'and they were brothers' me: 'what if they were ""brothers""?' Here with wrestling matches, bruised egos, pocket-knife stabbings and regret. The Best Excuse in the World I remember seeing this live and David Rotheray explained it as being about a gay man realising he has 'the best excuse in the world' for not loving his wife, but the way Jim Causley sings it erases any of the triteness of that, it's gorgeous. Go Your Way classic 'I love you so much I'm letting you go' folk song. Nonantzin another Nezahualcoyotl poem, this one asking mother to cry for her child when he dies. Crown Shyness is just one of my Brassian songs. Growing up together but not quite being brave enough to reach out to each other. Raincatchers ditto, also shut up I love it.

We used to be the raincatchers And we couldn't see what we were running from You made me feel like Nothing really matters Here in my dreams, we're raincatchers Come back to me like it was before You made me feel like Nothing really matters, nothing really matters If we let this run Caught on a river Everything that we left unspoken Will never be said Revenge of the Bear instrumental, for the title mainly. Who could it refer to, you ask? Animalia whaaaat it's from the soundtrack to my favourite film, also fucked up love and animal imagery. Daring Highwayman getting into the Norwegian/continental mercenary/troublemaking part of their careers now, Cassian definitely makes robery seem cool. Hare Spell he also makes shapeshifting seem cool. Because it is. Stendur æva is about nine minutes long but it's essential I'm afraid. Played on a glockenspiel made from Icelandic rock, I usually LOATHE your man from Sigur Rós and his squeaky voice, but he sort of sounds like a seagull in this, and it features the then head of the Icelandic folk singing club, who has a lovely voice. It's all bullshit medievalism about 'Odin magic' but it sounds fucking amazing. VIBES I SAY. Trøllabundin this is tumblr, you all know about Eivør Pálsdóttir here, right? Ogre more Richard Dawson! But this time the community is not so happy with the outsider figure on its edges. Twa Corbies is a pan-European folk song with pretty old roots. Pov: you are a corvid observing the body of a dead knight. Villon Song high medieval roots for this poem about all the cool things you can do to break the law. Bwganod Richard Dawson AND FRIENDS this time. The title is Welsh for 'scarecrow', which doesn't really have any bearing on things, but the following lines are just relevant, ok Always jokey-woking ‘Til the shit hits the fan Spray my face in fertiliser Grow a mos-toosh Hairy pits Super fit Built like a brick shit Wearing leopard-print Fishnet underpants

I’m on the run, Barely began Gathering sun, but I’ll take my time I’m overrun The damage is done Everyone’s gonna sink into the slime Hellismanna kvæði for the 1990s girl rock!! Also it's an outlaw song. Strákarnir á Borginni means 'the boys on the town' and is a camp tango about the hypocrisy of 1980s homophobic farmers in Iceland. I've posted it here before, it's iconique. Fin Cop a more tragic outlaw song. Nobody loves a troll. Escape oh just for the Vibes, because Plunkett & Macleane has the energy I want my outlaw saga to have. The Night Safari much more recent Patrick Wolf about love not being enough to stop self-destructive tendencies. Also shapeshifters. Excuse me While I shift shape The ocelot Slips the bowline knot But soon falls to prey As a boy I worshipеd the thunder Now it's just a sky under I wait for to fall No why only whеn Still Too Soon to Know yes yes blorbo got on the playlist. Pleasingly few pronouns in this. After all they've been through, surely Brasso would know? Á Sprengisandi is a jolly Icelandic folk song about riding across the highland interior on the main path. There's unclean spirits! Outlaws! Elves! All those fun guys. Ten Thousand Miles just another nice travelling song :)) Oh come ye back My own true love And stay a while with me If I had a friend On this Earth You've been a friend to me Dodona more recent Patrick Wolf going through it. Night Ride Across the Caucasus I'm not sure yet precisely what route they'll be taking by this stage but you've gotta have some Loreena on a medievalish playlist. Anyone But Me what pining would be complete without some jealous misunderstandings? This is such a sinister and sexy song of obsession and it's a fave. Ivy to go with the general move towards the cradle of ancient civilisationTM this is more Richard Dawson (and DIFFERENT friends, these ones Finnish metalheads) this time telling Dionysus's story. Hey Matt if you can take me at my best you can take me at my Darren Hayes-est, gay angstiest: Hey Matt The water carried all my secrets Sifting through the muck I saw my dirty little grievances And the memories I killed All the shameful feelings spilled Lay bare on the asphalt Broken parts I thought I'd drowned real good Oops! I Did it Again it's a Cassian song, ok? Nikitoa last of the songs with a title matching a poem by Nezahualcoyotl, this one about the transience of all things :)) Móðir mín í kví kví what if we made this lullaby into a girl screamo track? Vibes, I say again. Feet of Clay more on the topic of not being able to make a move despite wanting to. Whispering Light the version with Willy Mason. Distance, mark of distance Your burden is your brilliance There's a vessel A hiddеn vessel in the stonе Difference, not indifference Your passion marks you different And you wrestle And how you'll wrestle to come to know The Gates of Istanbul more Loreena! Constantinople, but, well, I don't need to quote They Might Be Giants. Shim El Yasmine It might not be Istanbul but let's get some Arabic language angst about leaving your boyfriend behind in anyway. Last Polar Bear it's about the long overdue proliferation of contemporary queer folk singers actually. Also bears. From the north. Make you think of anyone? The Moon Shone on my Bed Last Night sneaking some more Sam Lee in for the 'muckle ballad' about being with your lad no matter what. Stál og hnífur this is what happens when you leave the pronouns out, Bubbi! Steel and knife is my symbol, the symbol of travelling workers. Yours was mine and mine was yours while I lived among men. Fire Light soothing. Good vibes. Hopefuly. Probably a happy ending, through I'm a long way from knowing how I'll achieve it yet. What is the medieval equivalent of a Death Star? Over Again haha is it all a flat circle? Or once free to be together to they just go out robbing and causing trouble again? :)

[ironforged]

࣪𓏲ּ  ֶָ  𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗  ⁝         emma  d'arcy,  30,  nonbinary,  they/them.    announcing  the  arrival  of  WYLLA  of  house  MANDERLY,  the  LIEGE  of  WHITE  HARBOUR.  whispers  among  the  court  name  them  to  be  both  CORDIAL  and  OPINIONATED  in  disposition,  and  those  closest  to  them  speak  to  their  interests  in  chess,  swimming  &  stone  skipping.  if  we  bards  could  compose  a  song  for  them,  it  might  tell  stories  of  the  faint  smell  of  salty  sea  air  lingering  after  a  warm  day,  deafening  quiet  accompanied  with  an  occasional  creasing  of  parchment  as  a  page  is  turned,  fresh  fallen  winter  snow  personified  in  human  form.  the  seven  whisper  to  their  most  devout  queen  as  she  sleeps,  making  her  question  where  their  loyalties  truly  lie.  are  they  right  to  whisper?  for  their  loyalties  truly  lie  with  THE  TARGARYENS. 

one - basic information.

full name: wylla manderly. preferred nickname: wyl. official title: liege of white harbour. monikers: the child of winter, the winter mermaid. age: thirty. gender + pronouns: nonbinary + they/them. orientation: pansexual. true allegiance: house manderly + the north + themselves, publicly includes house targaryen. spoken languages: common tongue, certain phrases and terms in high valyrian. religion: faith of the seven, occasional worshipper who sometimes carries a rosary with a symbol of the mother.

two - exterior.

looks like: emma d'arcy. eye color: greenish blue. hair color: born with dusty blonde hair, as they grew older their hair lightened, becoming extremely desaturated - now their hair is naturally a silvery blonde, rivaling freshly fallen snow. dominant hand: right. height: 5'7" build: slim and lanky stature, posture never quite straight enough.

three - interior.

virtues: cordial, patient, whimsical, compassionate, studious. vices: opinionated, intrusive, individualistic, stubborn, careless. weapon of choice: though a lack of formal training, wyl has always favored a bow and arrows. moral alignment: chaotic good. hobbies: playing chess, swimming, stone skipping, horse riding, reading, running away from responsibilities.

four - connections.

parents: ryon manderly & alysanne manderly nee tully. siblings: robert manderly & cordelia manderly. birth order: middle child. relationship status: single. children: none. pets: a large hunting hound lovingly named honey. other relations: house tully ( cousins ) & vaella manderly nee targaryen ( sister in law ). past relations: none atm !

five - background.

the middle born manderly child, a sense of freedom has always been their's. though quite shy in the company of strangers or those they must behave for, once someone gets to know wylla, their shyness becomes a forgotten trait. that has always been their way, often resorting to hiding behind their mother's skirt as a child. as they grew, so did their confidence, yet they found they still disliked fruitless small talk and those they did not trust.

with robb thankfully the common center of attention, wylla was able to get away with more of their rambunctious behavior. they loved to climb trees and race across the docks, hitting a growth spurt early on and being a taller child than the others. it was never on purpose, as their mother did her best to keep up with all her children, but wylla learned from a young age how to slip away without notice quite often. they loved lessons, but despised staying still for too long - there was always so much they wished to do and somewhere else they wished to be. responsibilities decreased the more they refused to complete them and though guilt weighed on them for dumping more work onto others, they figured their capabilities would be much worse anyway.

love is never far in the manderly household. a tight knit bunch, wylla had always admired the hell out of their parents and robb as well - was even grateful to have such a fun sister to hang out with. fights were few and far in between, jokes and pranks more on display than anything. while wylla knew pretty early on they did not long for a marriage, they envied the love their parents shared and often wished to find only something so valuable. they even see it presently replicated with robert and vaella. so maybe love isn't the worst thing in the world, but wylla is incredibly cautious about who to reveal their vulnerability with.

they traveled a bit in their youth, first on trips alone and then later on with companions ( plot wanted ). white harbour had always been their favorite place to be but they were so curious about westeros and the stories they'd been told that they had to see things for themselves. with often befriending ship hands and those who worked on the docks, wylla learned much about ships while eventually sailing themselves. they loved being out on the sea and exploring new places, often writing everything they could about their travels while sending raven after raven to new castle. wylla traveled on and off for several years, still taking trips presently but their excitement about adventuring has dwindled. they find themselves favoring home and comfort more than adventure now, though the itch always remains.

freedom is the biggest priority for wylla and they would do anything to prevent being boxed in one way or another. they do not wish to marry or rule ( shoutout to their nieces and nephew for making that a reality ), but to have the ability to be and do whatever they desire. for now, though, they are entirely content with living in white harbor and would not mind spending the rest of their days there, living vicariously through those around them.

six - wanted.

failed suitor(s) - there could be a few of these, but essentially people who proposed the idea of marriage to wylla and they were like erm no thanks :/

the closest thing wyl has ever had to a serious partner - someone that wyl met through their travels who captivated them greatly and the two spent a lot of time together, but they butted heads about the future or had a disagreement that they couldn't get past, hence wyl leaving and they haven't spoken since then.

pen pals - various friends that wylla has met throughout the years on their travels or while meeting people. could be that they just stay in touch to inform each other of updates to their regions as more of an alliance deal or they had a similar interest or just genuinely got along well !

chess competitor - this person is top on wylla's dislike list. they started playing chess together and wyl used to kick their butt a lot, up until recently when wylla started losing. they think this person is cheating somehow but they are determined to win back their winning streak. just competitive frenemies basically.

more ideas include people wylla taught to swim, riding partners, people who have traveled with wylla before, anything !!

[your-ace-cousin-clover]

Blackbonnet AU Rec List 

[Which in no way is comprehensive or cumulative of all the wonderful fics that are written by the fandom. But I do think more AUs need to be written - because I'm biased and more of these need to be read and loved because they're absolutely wonderful]

A Night At Blackbeard's Bar and Grill [T]

The manager at the new restaurant Stede is trying to review is being kind of a dick. A certain member of the waitstaff, however, takes a bit of a liking to him.

Count The Headlights On The Highway [T]

When Stede Bonnet releases a chart topping cover of an old Scalawags song, Ed is more taken with it than he'd like to admit. After Calico Jack starts twitter drama over the "destruction of real music," Ed finds himself in the unusual position of having to apologize to Stede in person.  From the series: You'll Marry A Musical Man

Queen Anne's Revenge [G]

Stede Bonnet, a middle-aged divorcee, has to use any chance he gets to get into his adolescent daughter’s good books. Such an opportunity presents itself when Alma persuades her father into going to a gig played by Queen Anne’s Revenge - the hottest rock band these days. The night becomes decidedly more interesting when Stede meets a stranger in a black leather jacket.

Bonnet's Eleven [T] [WIP]

Stede Bonnet has a plan. One that he's definitely-sort-of-mostly thought through. After all, how hard can a museum heist actually be?

There's A Giant Grey Cat In Mr Bonnet's House [G] [WIP]

Stede's online class gets more interesting when his students think he has a big grey and grumpy cat and all that because his leather wearing badass husband who runs a cool restaurant with gift shop, beats cops, and is allergic to cats somehow suddenly develops a camera shyness and tries every way possible to not show himself to Stede's class even when necessary.

The View From Student Services [T]

Ellen Conroy meets twelve year old Izzy Hands two weeks into the new school year and spends his year eight becoming familiar with his dad(s) and their connection with Mary, the deputy head.

From the series: A Minivan Called Revenge

The Red Side Of The Moon [M] [WIP]

“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. What would a notorious outlaw want with a ranch like ours?” Stede hopped back into the wagon and shook his head. “Besides. This guy working for Blackbeard? What are the odds of that?”

The Adventures of The Gentleman Prostitute! [M] [WIP]

In which Stede becomes a prostitute, is really bad at it, but finds love and family anyway.

On An Aisle In The Sun [T]

In which a group of vendors must work together to give Mary and Doug the best day of their lives - and perhaps fall in love for themselves at the same time.

From the series: Compass Point You Home (Closer To Me)

Awake And Unafraid [E]

There’s a man in Ed’s poetry seminar who equally baffles and intrigues him.

From the series: [Insert Witty College AU Series Title Here]

The Choiceless Hope In Grief [T]

A lighthouse keeper/kraken au.

Running In The Shadow [T]

What if Stede was a kindergarten teacher and all of the crew were little ones?

From the series: Ed and Stede's Adventures in the Modern World with Cats

Is This What They Call A Derby Crush (Knock Seven Bells Out of Me) [T]

No one expects the roller derby AU. Rated T for swearing.

Holy Shit! Cap'n's A Mermaid! [T]

Stede Bonnet was well used to keeping his heritage a secret, he'd kept it successfully for decades, but now, maybe, he could finally show someone who just might care about him.

Marmalade Cake [G]

Stede thinks his new neighbor, Ed, can't cook. He doesn't know that Ed is a Michelin-trained chef.

From the series: Love At First Bite

Catch A Rare Type Specimen [G]

It was dead silent, save the lap of the waves against the shore, and there were few signs of life, other than a kōtare asleep in a mānuka tree some meters off from his spot in the bay, and it was honestly very serene, a peace of mind he had been needing for God knew how long.

Kiss My Lipstick On [M]

Ed stumbles into a drag bar, then a relationship. He might as well fall into a fresh understanding of himself while he's at it.

From the series: Leda House And The Kraken' Verse

Ever Giving [G]

What if Stede was the pilot of the Ever Given when it ran aground and Ed was the Big Boss?

From the series: Ever Given AU

Our Fold Means Death [G]

There is a handsome, heavily bearded gentleman who keeps folding the laundry that’s been left in the communal dryers. Including Stede’s. Even the underthings.

Right To Your Door [T]

Moving into his new flat, Stede Bonnet orders takeaway from Blackbeard's Bar and Grill. He becomes instantly smitten with his delivery driver, Ed.

Our Fashionable Armor [T]

A silk scarf, a copper button, and a pair of warm brown eyes change the course of Ed's entire criminal career.

Visions Of A Life [G]

It isn’t a secret at Queen Anne’s Academy that Stede Bonnet has a big fat crush on the world-famous rockstar known as Edward Teach. To Professor Bonnet, he seems to be just Ed, though. Ed this, Ed that.

Strokes Of Love [T]

Ed Teach: competitive swimmer, and returning college student. Add an interesting new teammate, and it's the perfect recipe for love.

The Bookshop Revenge [T]

Oluwande invites a famous horror author for a book signing. This is great and all but Stede Bonnet does not read horror, he's more of a romance type of man.

Foreign And Exotic Terms Of Endearment [T]

When the new tattoo shop opened down the street, REVENGE painted in the window in a gaudy script, Ed didn’t think much of it.

Seems I Got To Have A Change Of Scene [M]

"There's a piano guy in studio B."

Hometown [G]

No one believes that Stede knows Blackbeard. He's always talking about his "Ed," like he's on a first name basis with the most dreaded pirate in history.

A Mismatch Of Workplace [T]

Working at a mall sucks. Occasionally, though, it does have its benefits.

Love That's Slow [E]

Stede Bonnet is arranged to marry the pirate Blackbeard to forge a peace treaty between pirates and the local nobility that pass through the area. Stede only hopes this pirate turns out to be nice and actually have a head for a head instead of smoke.

How Long Until We Find Our Way (In The Dark And Out Of Harm) [T]

“The gentleman pirate, I presume.”

It had been emblazoned across him, on the left side, for as long as he could remember. Not that it had mattered.

Will You Dance? [T]

Edward Teach (also known as the Kraken to his motorcycle gang) is told his blood pressure is too high and he better start exercising regularly. Turns out dance makes for good exercise. It helps that the dance instructor is the most captivating man he’s ever met.

First Friend [G]

Stede Bonnet likes to be by himself, and luckily, he has the perfect place to do so. On his family's estate, to the East, is a small section of woods - so small it can hardly be called a forest. But what happens when someone else is in his safe place?

From the series: Call It Puppy Love

Around Your Heart in 80 Days [T]

Ed owns a Bar and Grill in a dangerous part of the city. He’s surprised to see a man like Stede in the area, he figures he must be lost. What ensues is a clandestine meeting followed by 80 days of rapidly falling in love.

Get Out Of My Dreams (And Into My Home) [T]

Stede is a merman that saves Ed from drowning.

A Sadness Runs Through Him [M]

Stede Bonnet has a midlife crisis after his divorce, and he leaves his office job in the city and moves to a small coastal town where no one knows him. Here he can start over.

Oh Captain, My Captain [M]

Stede Bonnet starts teaching English in a new school. Blackbeard is the custodian with a past.

Tagging the lovely @smuggsy who wanted some recs <3

[murdertoothpick]

Fives x Reader(if you can make it gender neutral awesome! If not, then female reader)

55. “What the heck I gotta dooo to be with you??”

im bad at titles so i just took the last lyric of the song

yes!

Fives x gn!Reader; jesse helps fives score a date | w/c: 980

501 follower prompt list - [55] lyric from '21 Chump Street', a one-act musical.

Warnings: none, unless you count shitty storytelling,,, also yes i slipped in another LMM musical reference

'And so I got in front of the whole mess hall, and serenaded her! I was like—'

'You've never even met a girl,' Jesse taunts, interrupting his brother's exaggerated recalling of events.

Fives rolls his eyes at Jesse's unsolicited comment. 'I have,' he contests, glaring at his amused brother. 'And I'll have you know, I'm quite popular amongst everyone,' he states matter-of-factly.

Jesse scoffs, incredulous at Fives boastful claim. 'Please, none of that matters...don't think I haven't noticed your attempts to flirt with our mechanic,' he prods, hoping to stir a reaction from his brother.

Fives' face contorts in shock, leaning closer and lowering his voice in a dramatic whisper, 'You know about that?'

'Fives, the whole battalion knows. Even Skywalker,' Jesse laughs, pointing a finger at Fives' shoulder in certainty. 'We're waiting for you to score a date!'

The other ARC trooper huffs in exasperation, 'Yeah, it's a...work in progress.' He frowns, a hand going to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck.

'C'mon vod,' Jesse rolls his eyes, folding his arms with an unimpressed look on his face, 'What happened to Mr popular?' he challenges.

'Hold on- I'm still Mr popular,' Fives defends hurriedly, feigning offence at the jest, 'I'm just not usually the one that asks.'

He has a point, Jesse thinks to himself, no stranger to the way people gravitate towards Fives when they find the time to go to 79's. But he's also aware of Fives' glaringly obvious shyness around you, even if you don't notice it with the way his brother still manages to land some less than subtle comments your way. He's already halfway there, it's clear you're interested, but neither of you seem to want to make the first move, at least not with a little shove.

And when you, by some coincidence or strings orchestrated by the Maker himself, stroll into the room presumably to enjoy your break, Jesse decides that a shove is exactly what the two of you need.

Everything works in his favour as well. Fives—who has an eye for spotting you out in the crowd, always gravitating towards you—for once, does not notice your entrance. Jesse perks up again.

'Let's get another serve,' he offers, prompting Fives to go with him.

'I'm good-' his brother begins, but Jesse is too adamant on his plan now.

'C'mon, we can split it,' it comes out as almost a whine, Jesse is begging to Fives' amusement.

Fives quirks his eyebrow, suspicious, 'Why do you need me to go with you?'

Jesse's eyes involuntarily flit to your location at the front of the room, the movement of his pupils imperceptible to his brother. He answers quickly to avoid Fives catching on.

'I uh - for protection.'

'Protection? In the mess hall?'

'You know, food fights and...yeah I don't need to explain myself to you,' he rushes, getting antsy.

Fives huffs, reluctantly getting up from his seat and beckoning Jesse to now go with him.

And Jesse wonders if the universe is helping him or you and Fives. It's a win-win situation, you and Fives go on a date, and he gets deemed the slickest wingman in the entire Grand Army of the Republic. Yeah, that sounds good.

With every step towards the food station, Fives unwittingly takes a step closer to you. He doesn't see the giddiness locked onto Jesse's face from where his brother has fallen out of step behind him.

Jesse is calculating, and by the time Fives realises you're there at the end of the serving line, Jesse is already giving him a hard shove into your back.

The impact of Fives' body, fully armoured, sends you toppling over onto the ground, the man on top of you. In hindsight, Jesse should have considered the force of his push, and the mass of a 6ft clone wearing his full kit of armour sans helmet.

You groan, and immediately, Fives widens his eyes upon realising it's you he had knocked over. The ARC trooper scrambles to his feet, muttering apologies and holding out a hand to help you up. You take it eagerly, flashing him a genuine smile through your wince of pain—even when you're on your feet you don't let go.

'You okay?' he asks, none of his movements indicating that he plans on removing his hand from yours.

'Yeah,' you breathe, heartrate quickening with the awareness of your joint hands.

Fives interprets it as a sign of your discomfort though, pulling his hand away and running it through his hair to play it off—and yet, even in his attempt to play it cool, he can't help but let those next words slip.

'Yeah, that's not how I planned on taking you out.'

Your eyes snap to his, your face fighting off the quirk of your lips into a smile, though the blush on your cheeks begins to give it away. 'What?'

Fives become momentarily stunned, mind replaying the last few seconds to determine if he said what he thinks he said. There's no point in hiding it now, he tells himself, even if it was obvious to everybody else that he had taken a liking to you. He sighs, shaking his head and looking to his feet, muttering under his breath, 'What the heck I gotta do to be with you?' You can just hear the question, and so can Jesse.

Jesse, finally making an appearance (and avoiding responsibility for your collision with his brother), nudges Fives closer towards you, making no attempts to be subtle as he urges with his own answer, 'Here's your chance, ask 'em out right now!'

That excited smile you had been trying to suppress graces your lips as your eyes dart between Fives and Jesse, and then finally landing on the former's in anticipation.

You grin at Fives, 'So...' you prompt, 'You heard him. Ask me out.'

taglist: @baroclinicinstability @perpetual-fangirl900 @teletraan-meets-jarvis @foodandbooksplease @proadhog @sageislostinspring @dwarfplanet69 @ahsokatano-thetogruta @loth-wolffe @dinbeskarbaby @dolphincommander @99squad @ladykatakuri @coyotebutt @moonstrider9904 @14mcmd1122 @hobiiwan @gnreader @nikolekenobi @kimageddon @paige6768

[milliedazzledust]

Viens, Embrasse moi (Bucky Barnes imagine)

Request by @husherstan​: One Shot with Bucky Barnes in which he and the reader are spies. Idk if you watched The Man From Uncle - American and Russian spies together to get an intel. They hate each other and have all that sexual tension. Based on the song ,,Les Yeux Noirs" by Pomplamoose (I have no idea what the lyric says) where they dance to prove who is the best.

Words: 4.689 words

A/N: I spent the last couple of days listening to tango, Pomplamoose and the ost of tfatws, I guess I was inspired coz this is super long so be aware. Thank you for that request - I’m really self-conscious about my writing so I’ll hope you’ll it! (ps: the title mean “come and kiss me”)

The mission was simple. Get inside the mansion during a fancy party by some rich man, retrieve valuable informations about Hydra’s whereabouts and get the hell out of there. Steve had decided to pair Bucky and Y/N for this. Two spies with specific skillsets that he knew would get the job done. This is why they had landed in Paris earlier that day.

They had taken a hotel room inside the infamous Le Meurice, courtesy of Tony Stark. He thought it was hilarious to provoke them since he knew they didn’t particularly like each other. That was what everybody thought, except Natasha. She had told Y/N she could see right through their games. The frustration and the tension together were a ticking time bomb that would either lead to one of them dead or both of them in a bed.

They hadn’t talked to each other the whole flight, they were too busy studying the blueprints of the mansion they would infiltrate, rehearsing their role and getting into character to care about annoying one another.   Bucky had ditched the uniform for a white shirt and a black tie. His suit jacket slung over a chair next to the luxurious bathroom where Y/N was getting ready.

“What is taking you so long ?” Bucky complained as he sat on the bed, putting on his cuffs.

He heard the bathroom door opening behind him.

“Gotta look the part if we want to blend in” The woman smirked.

The moment he saw her, he froze. If there was an undeniable truth he would never lie about, it was her haunting beauty. She was breathtaking. She had chosen to wear a provocative dress that night, a dark shade of green falling of her shoulders, putting the tattoo on her back on full display. It was made of silk, so soft Bucky swore he could feel his fingertips aching to run through the material. The high-length skirt sat perfectly on her curves and the Sergeant gulped when his eyes trailed down her leg. The dress was slit to the middle of her thigh. He could almost see the knife strapped around her muscles, hidden just under the satin gown. His gaze finally stopped on her high heels, admiring the whole outfit. She looked feminine yet deadly and had a confident glow, a radiance he could feel across the room. She was captivating.

She sniggered, pleased by his reaction. Like a wolf hunting his prey, she walked up to him without hurry. He was still sitting on the bed, his eyes glued to her body, following her every move. His mouth was dry, no word were enough to describe how mesmerizing he thought she looked. Without breaking their gaze, she started to undo his tie. Making it roll agonizingly slow around his neck, she tossed it on the bed. Bucky felt his heart skip a beat when she opened up the first two buttons of his shirt.  

“That’s better” She whispered, adjusting his collar. He shivered when her fingers grazed his skin and tried to hide it with a cough, but she could see right through him.

“You look …”

“What ?” She coyly cut him, a hint of defiance in her voice. “Sexy ? Ravishing ? Yeah, I know”

She had a glint in her eyes he couldn’t miss. She was enjoying his bewilderment.

“Pick up your jaw off the floor, Barnes. We’ve got work to do”

And with one last cheeky smile, she was on her way out. He shook his head vigorously, swearing under his breath, before grabbing his jacket and following her to their rental car.

Nestled in the woodland, away from the noises of the city, was the mansion. It wall all concrete and tall glass windows. The architecture made it seem a few centuries old and Y/N stopped for a short moment to admire the gigantic house surrounded by trees.

“And here I thought nothing could impress you” Bucky joked as he noticed her interest.

She rolled her eyes in annoyance, letting him lead her to the entrance. Before they could step inside the venue, a man in a grey suit stopped Bucky, putting a hand on his chest to prevent him from coming in. The Sergeant tensed, hoping he hadn’t been recognized. He had told Steve earlier that day that it might be a mistake to send him inside a place filled by Hydra agents. Even with the fresh haircut, somebody that knew the Winter Soldier could have easily recognized him.

“Votre invitation, Monsieur “ (your invite sir)

Bucky didn’t move an inch. He coldly starred back at the man, not understanding a single word of french.

“Il est avec moi” (he’s with me) Y/N quickly answered.

As soon as the man turned to look at her, his whole demeanor changed. With a smirk on his face, he eyes the woman up and down. By the way he licked his lips and he puffed his chest, she could easily guess he liked what he saw. She faintly heard Bucky grunt but ignored it. Seductively, she put a hand on the stranger’s shoulder and brought her face near to his.

“Pour être tout à fait honnête, il n’est pas de très bonne compagnie” (if i’m honest, he’s not very good company) She told him without a trace of an accent.

The man snickered.

“Puis-je demander le nom d’une si belle créature ?” (can I ask the name of such a beautiful creature?)

She smiled, pretending to be pleased to talk to him.

“Eléonore Charbonnier” She introduced herself with a name that wasn’t her own, faking shyness.

“Bienvenue, Madame Charbonnier. C’est un plaisir de vous avoir parmi nous ce soir” (Welcome, Miss Charbonnier. It’s a pleasure to have you tonight) He replied, bringing her hand to his lips before kissing it lightly.

She was playing with her hair, drawing his attention and Bucky didn’t like one bit to just stand there, silent, without a clue of what they were talking about.

“Tout le plaisir est pour moi” (The pleasure is all mine) She attractively responded with a lopsided grin.

She exchanged one last look with the french man and took a step inside. Bucky followed her closely, but not without one last threatening stare toward the stranger.

“That went smoothly” She congratulated herself.

“What ? You flirting with him or him eye-fucking you ?”

She laughed at his irritation.

“Such a potty mouth you have, Sergeant” She joked.

He responded with an unpleasing grunt before offering her his arm as they stepped into what seemed to be a ballroom. The place was enormous with a checkered floor contrasting with the golden walls. Crystal chandeliers spiraled down from the ceiling, illuminating the room while marble pillars surrounded it, carrying a large upstairs balcony. The place was already filled with wealthy people, all potentials investors for Hydra. Bucky glanced around the room, trying to spot the organization’s agents hiding among the guests.

“How are we going to get to the second floor ?” Y/N asked him discreetly.

“We mingle”

She raised an eyebrow.

“That’s your plan ?”

They were aware of the noises and the crowd but even more so of the curious stares in their direction.

“Alright” She shrugged. “Let’s dance”

“No” He quickly replied, which made her smile.

She turned to look at him and playfully tilted her head.

“No as in you can’t dance … or you don’t want to ?” She elatedly riposted.

“Both” He grunted, quickly glancing at anything but her.

He groaned when he saw how amused she was by the situation.

“My, my … and here I thought there was nothing Bucky Barnes couldn’t do”

He took a tentative step toward her, placing his metal hand on the small of her back. They were now inches apart and the attraction between them became a tangible thread in the air before any of them could speak a word.

“Now is not the time to play, doll” He muttered. She didn’t know if it was his tone, his proximity or his hand moving slightly lower, but she felt the premises of desire starting to form in the pit of her stomach.

“Steve should’ve paired me with Sam. At least he’s fun” She provocatively replied.

Her answer had an immediate response. He instantly stepped back, removing his hand from her body. She watched him closely, pleased when he pursed his lips with exasperation.

“You owe me a dance” She added and winked at him.

He gave her a dirty look and she chuckled before looking around the room, trying to think of something to get upstairs without being noticed.

“There’s literally one guard blocking the access” She stated seriously.

“Think you can distract him ?” Bucky asked.

“Consider it done.”

With one last glance, she moved to one of the waiter, grabbing a glass of champagne. Leaving Bucky behind, she took a sip of her beverage, seductively playing with her hair, swaying her hips until she was almost in front of her target. She knew he was already looking at her, she could feel his eyes on her body. Pretending to lose her balance right when he was next to her, she let him catch her in his arms.

“Oh my god ! I’m so sorry !” She apologized.

“Are you alright, Madame ?” He asked her with a thick accent.

“Yes, just a bit dizzy” She answered with an alluring chuckle.

She noticed his hands on her hips, she knew he didn’t let them there to keep her steady. When she looked up at him, she purposely bit her lips and placed a strategic hand on his arm. She saw the man gulp and smiled. It was working.

“You look …” He didn’t finish his sentence but instead put one of his hand way lower than it should have been. If it was anybody else, she would have break every fingers of that hand, but right now, it was exactly the reaction she was hoping for.

She glanced back at Bucky, who was fuming. The guard caught that and tried to turn his head to see what was distracting her, but before he could do that, she kissed him. Slowly, without an ounce of passion and with force she pressed her body against his. Her eyes stayed open, and she watched Bucky taking advantage of the situation by sneaking behind the french man and quickly getting upstairs. Once she was sure he was out of sight, she took a step back. She cleared her throat, smoothing her dress.

“I should go freshen up” She shyly told him, fluttering her lashes.

“There’s a bathroom upstairs” He offered.

She smirked. She knew her plan would work.

“Merci” (thank you) She told him with a fake accent.

She climbed the stairs, pretending to look for something, while the guard resume his position. Bucky was already waiting for her in the hallway, standing against a wall where no one could spot them.

“Did you have to kiss him ?” He inquired, infuriated, as she joined him.

“If I remember correctly, you told me to distract him”

“With your lips ?” He ironically continued.

She chuckled, her fingers fiddling with his jacket. She slowly leaned toward him, her red lips tentatively grazing his cheek.

“Careful, Barnes, one might think you’re jealous” She whispered against his ear.

He rolled his eyes.

“I don’t get jealous, doll”

She smirked, lowering her eyes on his lips.

“You keep telling yourself that”

“I’m just saying …” He kept talking as they walked to their destination. “Stop flirting with every man we come across”

“Is that an order, Sergeant ?” She knew she was on thin ice and she loved every minute of it.

He groaned. He was exasperated and she could see how much it drove him crazy. It had been that way for months now, they were always bickering, ready to bite each others head off.

Walking strategically through the corridor, they knew exactly where they were going. They had studied the place. Behind one of the doors was Hydra secret files on the super soldier serum and their experiment to create more Winter Soldier. The mission was to retrieve those informations to thwart their plan.

They had no trouble finding what they were looking for. From outside, what seemed to be an abandoned storage room was in fact a huge chamber with computer equipments and piles of files. For a second, Y/N thought it was unusual there was no one to guard the place before she silently followed Bucky inside. While he was looking through the papers, she took the flash drive she had hidden in her cleavage and plugged it into a computer. It was a malware designed by Stark to discreetly sneak inside their files, break every firewall and find their secret without leaving a trace.

“Anything interesting ?” She interrogated Bucky while Stark’s program was doing its magic.

He looked up from what he was reading and she visibly saw him gulp and shut the file he had in his hands.

“Nothing that I didn’t know of already”

She eyed him suspiciously.

“Why don’t I believe you ?” She accused him, backing up against a desk.

“Because you're a spy” He answered truthfully. “You don’t trust anyone but yourself”

She hummed.

“And that’s exactly why I know you’re hiding something” She continued, crossing her arms at his reluctancy.

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her. She could see his jaw tightening and his fists clenching. For some reason, he was getting angry at her. She tilted her head, curious at his reaction. Without a word, she raised an arm, opening her hand. It was a silent request to give her the file he was reading, which he eventually did.

She started to read and realized it wasn’t about the Winter Soldier initiative but about the Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes and what had happened to him in details after he fell off a train in 1945. She didn’t go through the end of the first page and shut it before handling back to the man in front of her.

“You’re not reading it ?” He questioned.

“No. If you want to talk about it, you will.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t need to know the details of a procedure you’d rather forget”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by her actions. He was expecting her to be more curious and try to prey informations out of him, but instead she just stood there and gave him an honest smile.

“Don’t look so flabbergasted, Barnes. I might be a spy but I’m not cruel”

“It’s just … I wasn’t expecting that”

“Expecting what ?” She asked, turning back to the computer.

“…To be given the choice not to talk about it”

She was shook by the force of his sincerity for a moment, but didn’t comment. It was rare for Bucky to share anything this personal with her. They had work quite a lot together, but it was always teasing and bickering. This was different. She could just guess it by the way he was looking back at her. He cared about her and valued her opinions and judging by his gaze, she had just given him a reason to trust her a little more. He suddenly cleared his throat, somehow embarrassed, and she grinned.

“All done” She declared, showing him the flash drive.

“Good. Let’s get out of here”

Just as he said it, an alarm started to ring inside the room. Both of them tensed, suddenly anxious.

“What is that ?” He groaned.

“They know we’re here”

“Shit”

She hid the flash drive in her cleavage before slowly backing against the wall next to their exit.

“So much for being invisible” She muttered under her breath.

Bucky half opened the door, picking outside to see what they would be up against. Armed men were already scattering the hallway, ready to launch the assault. He quickly closed it back, his expression now a mix between worry and annoyance.

“They’re at least six of them waiting for us” He informed her.

She secretly hoped they would avoid a situation like that but seeing as they had no other choice, she mentally prepared herself to give them hell. Bucky watched her with wide eyes when he saw her tearing her dress in half, making room to move freely.

“What the hell are you doing ?!”

“Mingling” She simply answered, repeating what he had told her earlier, before taking the knife attached to her thigh.

Bucky grabbed the handle and glanced back at Y/N one last time before the fight. They shared a knowing look, both of them reassuring the other with a silent nod. As soon as he opened the door, the gunshot started. The music and the people downstairs were a slight contrast to what was happening, the noises were loud enough to cover the sound of bullets shot across the room.

It wasn’t unfamiliar territory for Y/N or Bucky, they were used to fighting. Doing it together was different though. They had discovered they were a pretty good match on a battlefield. It almost felt like a quick pace tango, a choreography only they knew about. Bucky watched her smirk, and she saw him wink. They were about to give them a taste of their talent.

She let the Sergeant go first, knowing his brute force and especially his vibranium arm would most likely knock some of them out. One of them dodged her partner and went right to her. She blocked every of his punches and flipped the knife she had in her hand, stabbing the man in the gut. She rolled upside down, making him fall on the floor, unconscious. Another one tried to take advantage of the situation and decided to kick her. She twirled around, blocking him before hitting his chest with her heel, knocking him out of breath. From the corner of her eyes, she saw two of them going after Bucky. The agents would have had the time to attack, but all it took was a look between the Avengers and Y/N threw her blade at the Sergeant. He grabbed it mid-air and less than thirty seconds later, the men were on the ground, bleeding to death.

She started to make a movement toward her next target when she felt an arm wrapping around her waist. It all happened too fast. All she felt was the bullet touching her shoulder before her body was pushed against a wall and the men were out cold. Normally, she would have resisted but instinctively, she recognized the musky scent of Bucky’s colognes and the cold sensation of his metal hand against her hip. She realized he had shoved her out of the way when one of their opponents had fired, aiming directly at her.

“Are you alright ?” He whispered, making her shudder.

He was so close she could feel his heart beating. He was towering her, shielding her body with his own. The situation was quite ludicrous. They were surrounded by men they had just taken down but none of them seemed to care. She opened her mouth to demand that he release her, but the words never formed. His chest flushed against hers, he was slowly invading her senses. They were both exhausted by the effort, and his staggered breath was enough to send a fire coursing through her body. She risked a peek at his face and swallowed when she saw his blue eyes darkening with an emotion she couldn’t quite place.

“Don’t look at me like that” He spoke with such intensity she shivered.

She licked her dry lips before speaking.

“Like what ?” She teased.

Bending his head, he buried his nose in her neck. She struggled at the proximity, purely a reflex. He answered by pulling her even closer. He looked up at her again, his mouth hovering a few inches from hers. Every nerve ending inside her was screaming for his touch but she didn’t move, simply stared at him. She wasn’t going to kiss him, but there was still a strange satisfaction flowing around them, pleased that they were just as susceptible to the treacherous desire between them. She could see it in his dark crystal-blue eyes, in the thundering beat of his heart and his metal hand, possessively holding her, gently stroking her covered skin.

“You’re bleeding” He said after a while, his gaze falling on her wounded shoulder.

She didn’t even turn to assess the damage and kept her eyes focused on him.

“I’ve had worse” She told him, voice filled with need and desire.

“Y/N…” He warned her.

His human hand crept into her hair. He was inexplicably drawn to her, she was intoxicating. When he traced a path over her cheek with his thumb, she closed her eyes, savoring the moment.

“Fuck” He cursed under his breath.

He kissed her temple, the movement so gentle yet so significantly filled with unsaid feelings. They heard noises, more people coming their way, and just like that their frozen time was up. He took the piece of cloth she had torn apart and wrapped it around her bleeding shoulder quickly before grabbing her hand and leading her toward their escape route.

She followed him without protesting. He led her to a window and both of them jumped. The car wasn’t far and they sprinted to get to it. They could already hear the agents rushing, they had to hurry. Bucky glanced rapidly in Y/N’s direction, making sure she was alright. The blood had started to flow on her arm through her made up bandage of clothing. She simply nodded her head to reassure him. They drove in silence, checking every now and then that no one was following them. Apart from the altercation, the mission was a success. No one had recognized them and they had what they were looking for. Worn out and a bit dizzy from the loss of blood, Y/N let herself relax and yawned. Bucky felt himself breath a little better now that they were out of harm’s way and surprised himself when a smile spread across his face at the sleepy form of his partner.

Later that night, they safely got to their hotel room. Completely tired, Y/N let herself fall on the bed. She watched Bucky from the corner of her eyes heading to the bathroom. He came back with a few items and silently sat next to her. He unfastened the cloth around her arm without looking at her or asking her permission and opened a bottle of alcohol. When he poured it on her injury, she hissed. She tried to push back, a reflex to get away from the pain, but instantly stopped when she felt his cold hand keeping her in place. She glanced down at her shoulder and studied the wound.

“Doesn’t look too bad” She inspected.

“The bullet didn’t do any damage”

“Good” She sighed, falling back on the bed.

She watched him clean it then wrapped it up with gauze. He was methodic, every movements seemed rehearse, like he had done it many times before.

“Thank you, Bucky” She murmured.

She saw the corner of his mouth rising, forming a small grin he was trying to hide. Without a word, he stood up and started to walk around the room. Y/N observed him curiously, wondering what he was doing. She sat back against the headboard of the bed and followed his moves. He stopped next to the door and dimmed the light.

“What are you doing ?” She asked, half amused, half confused.

He held up a finger, silently telling her to wait. He took out his phone and suddenly music filled the room. He discarded his jacket, tossing it in a corner of the room, rolling up his sleeves. That simple action was enough to raise the temperature of her body. He was aware of her hungry gaze on his muscles, following his movement and didn’t miss the way she bit her lips. He slowly walked to the side of the bed, right next to her, raising his metal hand toward her.

“What is this ?” She interrogated him, her voice so small she wasn’t sure he heard.

“You said it yourself, I owe you a dance”

She starred back with doubtful eyes but took his hand nonetheless. He led her to the center of the room and began to slowly sway with her.

“La bohème” She recognized the song.

“You said you loved it”

“Didn’t think you’d remember”

“It might come as a shock, Agent Y/L/N, but I do pay attention” He flirtatiously sniggered.

Her breath caught in her throat when he pulled her closer and sneaked an arm around her waist. Spinning and circles and shuffling his feet to the rhythm, he made her laugh. He surprised himself thinking he wished he could carve that sound into his head and never forget it. They danced together, their body close, and she knew she must have been blushing. It only made his smile grew bigger. He stood looking down at her with a hint of danger in his eyes. There was so much more she saw in him than an experiment and a super soldier, but she would never admit that. For some reason, she wanted to find a flaw in him, something that would level the field between them. Until she realized that with him, all bets were off.

“I’m not sure I like that” She said, hating the note of anxiety in her voice.

“What ? Dancing ?”

“Us not being at each others throat” She sincerely answered. “But I’ll admit, you’re a pretty bad dancer”

She felt the rumble of his chuckle against her body.

“You can still fight me if you’re up for it” He replied, smirking down at her. She smacked his chest and he pretended to be hurt for a second. She rolled her eyes at his antics.

He made her twirl and she felt an adrenaline rush when he drew her close to his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck and made a movement to brush her hair away but his hand stopped hers. Instead he carefully laid it on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying about my dancing ?” He smirked as he made her spin once again.

“That you had no sense of rhythm” She joked.

He laughed and dropped his head, studying her.

“I like it” He confessed, an answer to what she had admitted earlier.

A surprising sense of comfort suddenly settled in her stomach at his admission.

“This stays between us, Barnes” She warned him.

“Is that a threat ?” He laughed.

“Exactly” She whispered, laying her head against his chest as they continued to move together, too lost in the music to halt. “One word to Steve and you’ll be on the wrong end of my knife”

She felt his smile when he lowered his head to kiss the naked skin on her uninjured shoulder.

“You have my word, Agent Y/L/N” He winked. “And just so you know, I’m a better dancer than you are”

“No you’re not”

“I guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong”

“Is that your way of asking me out ?” She smugly smiled with a hint of seductiveness in her tone.

“Maybe… is it working ?”

“I still haven’t decided if I want to fight you yet”

He grinned, he couldn’t help himself but felt at ease around the dangerous woman. After a while, they stopped moving. Bucky felt her body relaxing and her weight getting more heavy as she started to fall asleep against him. He buried his nose in her hair, closing his eyes to enjoy their moment out of time. When he was certain the woman was asleep, he carried her to the bed. He made sure she was comfortable enough under the covers, taking extra precaution not to touch her wound. Then he sat next to her, already knowing the moment they would get back, he would go to Steve for advices. She would be mad, most likely with a newfound desire to kill him. They would probably fight, but strangely that perspective only made his smile. He was ready to wrestle if it meant they would both win in the end.

[petewentzisblack1312]

alright... for ur analysis... my fave fob songs... either of all the gin joints or im like lawyer ?

gin joints fucks lemme say that real quick. this song is really simple, lyrically and musically, but the lyrics... man. its very much a song about a lost connection, right? or at least a relationship that never really worked from the start "you only hold me up like this/cuz you dont know who i really am" like you only hold me to this standard because you think im someone else who can meet it. "sometimes i just want to know what its like to be you" in the context of the last line this makes it seem like the persona wishes he believed in themself as much as the muse does, which. ouchie :( "i used to waste my time dreaming of being alive/(now i only waste it dreaming of you)" this kind of points to the unhealthy dependency that the relationship has caused. like theyre doing everything they can to make the muse happy, its consuming all their waking thoughts, its all they want now. theres also the motif of pointedly ignoring the wreckage of their relationships overstayed welcome (were making out inside crashed cars) and the way they are just kind of going through the motions of what they should be doing (were sleeping through all our memories). and then the chorus "turn off the lights and turn off the shyness/cuz all of our moves make up for the silence" the actual emotional connection between them has long since passed, its more memorized steps now, turning off the lights so they dont have to see the strangers theyve become. "and oh, the way your makeup stains my pillowcase/like ill never be the same" a comparison is drawn. the persona has become a different person because of this relationship, foe better or for worse. they are not who they were. neither of them are. this all harkens back to the title, "of all the gin joints in all the world". theyre seeing a familiar face that left a bad taste in their mouth. like i said, straight forward and painful.

-

consider buying me a ko-fi?

[kakashi-tsukuyomi]

Venus

A/N: I made this as a gift for @sparkleswritings for a Secret Santa event in a Discord server I’m part of, @konoblog-simps . I had so much fun writing this! I took into account some things she likes/dislikes and incorporated them in this one-shot story. This was also the first time I wrote for Gaara. It was pretty challenging but definitely fun.

Pairing: Gaara x My friend; Modern-day AU Warnings: None. Just pure fluff ahead

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Dusk fell, and the glow of the lights coming from the coffee shops lining on each side illuminated the street on a Saturday evening. Sidewalks were filled with people enjoying the weekend calm, grateful for the respite it brought after a week of toil as they catched up with friends and loved ones over a cup or two of coffee. It certainly was the case for Kira and her friends earlier that afternoon. Exams had just finished the day before, and what better way to celebrate their freedom than to spend the next day hanging out in their favorite café, discussing their favorite stories over cups of hot tea. They enjoyed each other's company so much that they did not realize that their afternoon rendezvous stretched towards the evening. After saying their goodbyes to each other and a few well wishes for the coming holidays, they left the café and parted ways. 

Kira walked down the sidewalk, taking in the sights around her as she listened to Sleeping at Last playing on her phone. The sky was now getting blacker than a few minutes ago, and the lights shone brighter and prettier in the dark. She had always loved evenings better than any part of the day, and this evening of solitude surrounded by the beautiful sight of nightlife, with the evening breeze caressing her face, was no exception for her. She had decided she wanted to stay and enjoy a little bit of it more, and so instead of going straight home, she continued walking and wandered around the shops nearby.

After a while, she stopped by her favorite bookstore along the way. As she entered the shop, the song "Venus" started playing on her phone, and she pressed her earphones closer to her ears to listen to it. She hummed to the song as she wandered towards the "New Selections" aisle, browsing the shelves for promising titles. When none caught her interest, she gave up and wandered towards the other parts of the shop. The bookstore had two levels, and after having visited all of the aisles on the ground floor, she rode the escalator, bringing her to the second floor. She got off the escalator and walked towards the shelves in front of her. She reached the Hobbies Section, casually browsing the books on display, and when she reached the Gardening Section, something interesting caught her eye.

It was a figure of a young man of about her age, standing a few yards before her in front of a shelf full of different books on succulents. He had short, spiky auburn hair, and he had a fair complexion. His frame was slender, his height not too tall, and he was wearing a maroon long-sleeved shirt on top of jeans and sneakers, which fit his frame perfectly. From where she was standing, she could only see half of the features of the young man. Although even with this limited view, she could tell that the guy looked cute.

The young man was holding a book in each hand, glancing from one book to the other. His forehead creased as he stared intently on one book as if to scrutinize it before switching to the other, and then back again. He let out a small exasperated sigh as if in defeat, and when he looked up from the two books, he noticed Kira's presence and turned to look at her. Kira felt her breath hitched and she panicked internally, quickly averting her gaze and turning to leave.

"Wait!" The young man called out. "I, uhh… ummm…"

Kira silently debated whether she should turn around and face him or just ignore him. She just wasn't used to situations like this. Normally shy, she wasn't the type of person to strike up a conversation with a stranger out of the blue.

"Excuse me, but, umm…" The young man hesitated as if choosing his words carefully. "I, uhh… wonder if you could give me some help, please?"

He seemed to be as embarrassed as Kira was at that time as he looked down, avoiding her gaze as he asked her. She felt a little bit sorry for the guy and was almost tempted to give in, but her shyness still held her firmly in her place. After a few seconds of awkward silence, the boy backpedaled and apologized to her. "F-forgive me, " he stuttered, "I shouldn't have bothered you."

Pity and guilt took hold of Kira as she watched the young man retreat from her, still clutching the two books in both hands. A silent resolve took place in her heart, and she thought that maybe if she could be bold today, it wouldn't hurt to try. After all, the boy did seem helpless.

"S-sure, I can help you. What is it?"

The young man's eyes suddenly perked up, and he turned to her, bringing the two books to her. "Ahh, thank you. I'm looking for a good book on taking care of succulents. I just started growing succulents, and I don't know which of these books is better." He stopped in front of her, holding out both of his hands to show her the books, and as she removed her earphones from her ears, she leaned forward for a closer look. Up close, she could properly see the boy's face. He had green eyes, and the edges of his lids were outlined with black ink. She noted he had no eyebrows, and had an unusual tattoo marked on the left side of his forehead. Though these features seemed strange compared to the usual standards of male beauty, they worked quite well on him, and Kira thought he was actually quite attractive.

Upon inspecting the titles, she immediately recognized them, and with ease and a bit of excitement, explained to the boy what each book was about. She pointed to the book on his left hand, "This one has useful information on planting succulents -- plus I like the visuals -- although, I think it lacks the explanation and tips a first-time succulent enthusiast should know." She pointed to the other one, "As for this one, I like this better because it has more information, plus I like how simple yet organized that information is laid out. It's very easy for a beginner to understand. I recommend this one."

The young man's eyes lit up once more, and he looked at her with a quiet awe. "Wow, I'm amazed how easily you picked one over the other. I assume you've already read both books and that you're into succulents, as well. You seem to be really knowledgeable on it."

Kira raised both of her hands in front of her, smiling sheepishly, "Ahh! No, not really… it's just that I had a lot of them growing up. Although, I don't really have them anymore…" The young man smiled at her, and Kira noticed how kind and gentle his face looked. She felt her heart skip a beat.

"But because of your knowledge, you certainly were able help me. I can't thank you enough, Miss… umm…" He scratched the small part of his cheek with his finger. "Forgive me, I didn't get your name."

"It's Kira!" She blurted out too eagerly, but then caught herself afterwards, a tint of pink coloring her cheeks. The young man had noticed but didn't say anything and smiled in return as he held out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Kira. My name's Gaara."

Kira stared at the hand outstretched towards her and slowly took it. Her hand slipped into his, and it fit comfortably. His hand was a bit rough yet warm, she noted, and he shook her hand slowly, his grasp firm yet gentle at the same time. She liked how his hand felt against hers, familiar and safe, and when the movement stopped, his hand lingered on hers for a while. She felt her heart sink when he finally let go. 

"Well, umm… it was really nice meeting you, Kira. Thank you again for your help," Gaara smiled softly to her.

"Yeah, it was nice meeting you, too, Gaara!" Kira smiled back, and then muttered, "Umm, well, uhhh… I guess I gotta go…"

Gaara watched her as she turned her back from him and started to walk away. What a kind and gentle soul, he thought. He watched her as her dark hair swayed along with her every move, and he noted how pretty she looked in her pastel green blouse, complimenting her skin tone. He felt a foreign tug in his heartstrings as he saw her walk farther from him, and before he knew it, he was already calling out to her.

"Kira -- wait!" Upon hearing him call out her name, Kira didn't hesitate and immediately turned around to face him. "Y-Yes?"

Gaara immediately approached her and stopped two feet away from her. "W-well, umm…" he stuttered, "You see, I, umm, signed up for a free succulent workshop tomorrow downstairs. I, uhh... it's my first time to join and I don't know anyone there. P-perhaps... you would like to join me?"

Kira's eyes widened, not quite sure if what she was hearing was true.  

"Then uhh…," he continued, "Maybe, afterwards, we can talk about it over tea. I mean, well, I could really use your help. But that is, of course, if you're fine with it!" He seemed flustered as he said this, scratching the side of his cheek again with his finger.

Kira felt her heart warm up as a grin formed itself on her lips. This boy had just asked her out, and though she really couldn't believe it at first, she knew what she was going to answer him, anyway.

Her eyes lit up, and she smiled at him sweetly, her heart full of excitement and joy.

"Of course," she beamed. "I would love to."

 The night sky once ruled my imagination Now I turn the dials with careful calculation After a while, I thought I'd never find you I convinced myself that I would never find you When suddenly I saw you

-“Venus”, Sleeping At Last

[beemusik]

How David Bowie Invented Ziggy Stardust

Jason Heller’s book Strange Stars: David Bowie, Pop Music, and the Decade Sci-Fi Exploded is the story of how science fiction influenced the musicians of the Seventies. Out now in hardcover via Melville House, Strange Stars also examines how space exploration, futurism and emerging technology inspired the sometimes-cosmic, sometimes-mechanistic music the decade produced. In this section, Heller delves into the creation of Bowie’s most-famous alter ego, Ziggy Stardust.

A small crowd of sixty or so music fans stood in the dance hall of the Toby Jug pub in Tolworth, a suburban neighborhood in southwest London, on the night of February 10, 1972. The backs of their hands had been freshly stamped by the doorman. A DJ played records to warm up the crowd for the main act. The hall was nothing fancy, little more than “an ordinary function room.” The two-story brick building that housed it – “a gaunt fortress of a pub on the edge of an underpass” – had played host to numerous rock acts over the past few years, including Led Zeppelin, Jethro Tull, and Fleetwood Mac. Sci-fi music had even graced the otherwise earthy Toby Jug, thanks to recent headliners King Crimson and Hawkwind, and exactly one week earlier, on February 3, the band Stray performed, quite likely playing their sci-fi song “Time Machine.” The concertgoers on the tenth, however, had no idea that they would soon witness the most crucial event in the history of sci-fi music.

Most of them already knew who David Bowie was – the singer who, three years earlier, had sung “Space Oddity,” and who had appeared very seldom in public since, focusing instead on making records that barely dented the charts. His relatively low profile in recent years hadn’t helped his latest single, “Changes,” which had come out in January. Despite its soaring, anthemic sound, it failed to find immediate success in England. But the lyrics of the song seemed to signal an impending metamorphosis, hinted at again in late January when Bowie declared in a Melody Makerinterview, “I’m gay and always have been” and unabashedly predicted, “I’m going to be huge, and it’s quite frightening in a way.” Bowie clearly had a big plan up his immaculately tailored sleeve. But what could it be?

Before Bowie took the stage of the Toby Jug, an orchestral crescendo announced him. It was a recording of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, drawn from the soundtrack to A Clockwork Orange. To anyone who’d seen the film, the music carried a sinister feeling, superimposed as it was over Kubrick’s visions of grim dystopia and ultraviolence. Grandiloquence mixed with foreboding, shot through with sci-fi: it couldn’t have been a better backdrop for what the pint-clutching attendees of the Toby Jug were about to behold.

At around 9:00 p.m., the houselights were extinguished. A spotlight sliced the darkness. Bowie took the stage. But was it really him? In a strictly physical sense, it must have been. But this was Bowie as no one had seen him before. His hair – which appeared blond and flowing on the cover of Hunky Dory, released just three months earlier – was now chopped at severe angles and dyed bright orange, the color of a B-movie laser beam. His face was lavishly slathered with cosmetics. He wore a jumpsuit with a plunging neckline, revealing his delicate, bone-pale chest, and his knee-high wrestling boots were fire-engine red. Bowie had never been conservative in dress, but even for him, this was a quantum leap into the unknown.

Then he began to play. His band – dubbed the Spiders from Mars and comprising guitarist Mick Ronson, bassist Trevor Bolder, and drummer Woody Woodmansey – was lean, efficient, and powerful, clad in gleaming, metallic outfits that mimicked spacesuits, reminiscent of the costumes from the campy 1968 sci-fi romp Barbarella. The Jane Fonda vehicle had been a huge hit in England, and it became a cult film in the United States, thanks to its titillating portrayal of a future where sensuality is rediscovered after a lifetime of sterile, virtual sex.

In the same way, Bowie’s new incarnation was shocking, lurid, and supercharged with sexual energy. Combined with his recent admission of either homosexuality or bisexuality, as he was then married to his first wife, Angela, Bowie’s new persona oozed futuristic mystique, which Bowie biographer David Buckley described as “a blurring of ‘found’ symbols from science fiction – space-age high heels, glitter suits, and the like.”

But what bewitched the audience most was the music. Amid a set of established songs such as “Andy Warhol,” “Wild Eyed Boy from Freecloud,” and, naturally, “Space Oddity,” the Spiders from Mars injected a handful of new tunes, including “Hang On to Yourself” and “Suffragette City,” that had yet to appear on record. Propulsive, infectious, and awash in dizzying imagery, this was a new Bowie – cut less from the thoughtful, singer-songwriter mold and more from some new hybrid of thespian rocker and sci-fi myth. These songs bounced off the walls of the Toby Jug’s no-longer-ordinary function room. The audience, whistling and cheering, was entranced. A show eye-popping enough to dazzle an entire arena was being glimpsed in the most intimate of watering holes.

Although the crowd was sparse, people stood on tables and chairs to get the best possible view. The stage was only two feet high, but it may as well have been twenty, or two million – an elevator to outer space designed to launch Bowie into an orbit far more enduring than that of Major Tom in “Space Oddity.”

At some point, amid the swirl and spectacle of the two-hour set, Bowie announced from the stage the name of his new identity: Ziggy Stardust.

Like an artifact from some alien civilization, Bowie’s fifth album, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, was unveiled on June 16, 1972. By then, Ziggy had become a sensation. After the Toby Jug gig in February, concertgoers embraced Bowie’s new persona in music venues around the UK. Attendance swelled each night, as did a growing legion of followers who dressed themselves in homemade approximations of Bowie’s outlandish attire.

Just as the album was released, he and the Spiders appeared on the BBC’s revered Top of the Popsprogram, performing the record’s centerpiece: the song “Starman.” For many of a certain age, watching Bowie on their family’s television that evening was tantamount to the Beatles’ legendary spot on The Ed Sullivan Show in the United States eight years earlier. “He was so vivid. So luminous. So fluorescent. We had one of the first color TVs on our street, and David Bowie was the reason to have a color TV,” remembered Bono of U2, who was twelve at the time. “It was like a creature falling from the sky. Americans put a man on the moon. We had our own British guy from space.”

Musically, “Starman” was an exquisite and striking slice of pop songcraft, exactly what Bowie needed at that point in his career. Lyrically, he smuggled in a sci-fi story that centers around Ziggy Stardust, who was both Bowie’s alter ego and the fictional protagonist of the Rise and Fall concept album, as loose as it was in that regard – it is more a fugue of ideas that coalesce into a concept. Through the radio and TV, an alien announces his existence to Earth, which Bowie describes in lovingly rendered sci-fi verse: “A slow voice on a wave of phase.” The young people of the world become enchanted and hope to lure the alien down: “Look out your window, you can see his light /If we can sparkle, he may land tonight.” But that alien is reticent, and his shyness makes him all the more magnetic.

Bowie sang the song on Top of the Pops clad in a multicolored, reptilian-textured jumpsuit, which Melody Maker called, “Vogue’s idea of what the well-dressed astronaut should be wearing.” In that sense, “Starman” is a self-fulfilling prophecy: before he could truly know the impact the song would have, he used it to describe its effect on Great Britain’s young people in perfect detail. He was the starman waiting in the sky, and the kids who saw him on TV soon began to dress like him, hoping to sparkle so that he may land tonight.

If Bowie intended “Starman” to be an overt reference to [Robert A.] Heinlein’s Starman Jones, the book he loved as a kid, he never publicly confessed to it. But the admittedly sketchy story line of Rise and Fall parallels another Heinlein work: Stranger in a Strange Land, the novel that had influenced David Crosby in the ’60s and, later, many other sci-fi musicians of the ’70s. The book’s hero,Valentine Michael Smith, comes to Earth from Mars; in Rise and Fall, Mars is built into the title. And both Valentine and Ziggy become messiahs of a kind – androgynous, libertine heralds of a new age of human awareness. Bowie claimed he’d turned down offers to star in a film production of Stranger in a Strange Land and had few positive words to say about the book, calling it “staggeringly, awesomely trite.” Be that as it may, he clearly had read the book and developed a strong opinion of it – perhaps enough for some of its themes and iconography to seep into his own work.

The opening song of Rise and Fall, “Five Years,” elegiacally delivers a dystopian forecast: the world will end in five years due to a lack of resources, and society is disintegrating into a slow-motion parade of perversity and moral paralysis. It’s a countdown to doomsday, with the clock set at five years. The song’s ominous refrain, “We’ve got five years,” is sung by Bowie with increasing histrionics, his voice sounding more panicked and deranged as he repeats the phrase. “The whole thing was to try and get a mocking angle at the future,” Bowie said in 1972. “If I can mock something and deride it, one isn’t so scared of it” – with “it” being the apocalypse.

“Five Years” set a chilling tone, but Rise and Fall didn’t entirely wallow in it. The coming of an alien rock star named Ziggy Stardust is relayed in a multi-song story that’s equally melancholy and ecstatic, tragic and triumphant. On tracks such as “Moonage Daydream,” “Star,” and “Lady Stardust,” Bowie wields terms such as “ray gun” and “wild mutation.” He also claims, “I’m the space invader,” as though he were channeling the ideas of his sci-fi heroes Stanley Kubrick or William S. Burroughs, particularly the latter’s 1971 novel, The Wild Boys.

As Bowie explained, “It was a cross between [The Wild Boys] and A Clockwork Orange that really started to put together the shape and the look of what Ziggy and the Spiders were going to become. They were both powerful pieces of work, especially the marauding boy gangs of Burroughs’s Wild Boys with their bowie knives. I got straight on to that. I read everything into everything. Everything had to be infinitely symbolic.” The photos of the Spiders from Mars inside the album sleeve of Rise and Fall were even patterned after the gang of Droogs of A Clockwork Orange; Droogs are mentioned by name in the Rise and Fall song “Suffragette City.” Furthermore, Bowie posed on theback cover of the album, peering out of a phone booth – just as though he were that other cryptic British alien who regularly regenerates himself and is often seen in a phone booth (specifically a police call box), the Doctor from Doctor Who.

Bowie also drew from work of the Legendary Stardust Cowboy. Born Norman Carl Odam, the Texan rockabilly artist released a twangy, oddball 1968 single titled “I Took a Trip (On a Gemini Spaceship)” that Bowie wound up covering in 2002; it was from Odam that Bowie borrowed Ziggy’s surname. And after going on a record-buying spree while touring the United States in 1971, he bought Fun House by the Michigan proto-punk band the Stooges, whose outrageous lead singer was named Iggy Pop. He jotted down ideas on hotel stationary while traveling the States, resulting in a name that was a mash-up of Iggy Pop and the Legendary Stardust Cowboy. Ziggy Stardust was a fabricated rock star, one whose sleek facade flew in the face of the era’s reigning rock aesthetic of laid-back, unpretentious authenticity. Instead, Bowie wanted to puncture that illusion by taking rock showmanship to a previously unseen, self-referential extreme.

When it came to Bowie’s urge toward collage and deconstruction, Burroughs remained a prime inspiration. A pioneer of postmodern sci-fi pastiche as well as the literary cut-up technique, in which snippets of text were randomly rearranged to form a new syntax, Burroughs straddled both pulp sci-fi and the avant-garde, exactly the same liminal space Bowie now occupied. Rock critic Lester Bangs accused Bowie of “trying to be George Orwell and William Burroughs” while dismissing him as appearing to be “deposited onstage after seemingly being dipped in vats of green slime and pursued by Venusian crab boys” – a description that sounded like it could have been cribbed straight from a Burroughs book.

In 1973, Burroughs met Bowie in the latter’s London home. The meeting was arranged by A. Craig Copetas from Rolling Stone, and the resulting exchange was published in the magazine a few months later. In the article, Copetas observed that Bowie’s house was “decorated in a science-fiction mode,” and that Bowie greeted them “wearing three-tone NASA jodhpurs.” The ensuing conversation ranged across many topics, but it circled around science fiction – and in particular, the similarity Bowie saw between Rise and Fall and Burroughs’s 1964 novel Nova Express, a surreal sci-fi parable about mind control and the tyranny of language.

In an effort to convince Burroughs of the similarity, Bowie offered one of the most revealing analyses of Rise and Fall as a work of science fiction:

“The time is five years to go before the end of the Earth. It has been announced that the world will end because of a lack of natural resources. Ziggy is in a position where all the kids have access to things that they thought they wanted. The older people have all lost touch with reality, and the kids are left on their own to plunder anything. Ziggy was in a rock & roll band, and the kids no longer wanted to play rock & roll. There’s no electricity to play it.”

Bowie went on:

“[The environmental apocalypse] does not cause the end of the world for Ziggy. The end comes when the infinites arrive. They really are a black hole, but I’ve made them people because it would be very hard to explain a black hole onstage.”

Curiously, it took him another twenty-six years before casually revealing in an interview that a sci-fi song called “Black Hole Kids” was recorded as an outtake during the sessions for Rise and Fall. He called the song “fabulous,” adding, “I have no idea why it wasn’t on the original album. Maybe I forgot.”

But Bowie dropped the biggest revelation about Rise and Fallin the 1973 conversation with Burroughs. Ziggy Stardust, according to his creator, is not an alien himself; instead, he’s an earthling who makes contact with extra-dimensional beings, who then use him as a charismatic vessel for their own nefarious invasion plan. But like Frankenstein’s monster being erroneously called “Frankenstein” to the point where it seems senseless to quibble with that usage, Ziggy Stardust continues to be widely considered the alien entity of Rise and Fall. Considering the shifting identity and gender of Bowie’s most famous alter ego, that ambiguity may well have been his intention. Talking to Burroughs, he ultimately labels Rise and Fall “a science-fiction fantasy of today” before reiterating its similarity to Nova Express, to which Burroughs responds, “The parallels are definitely there.”

Rise and Fall has always been as fluid as Bowie’s facade itself. Michael Moorcock’s Eternal Champion cast a shadow over Ziggy Stardust, especially the glammy incarnation of the many-faced character known as Jerry Cornelius – who was adapted to the big screen in 1973 for the feature film The Final Programme. It coincided with Ziggy’s own ascendency, not to mention the New Wave of Science Fiction and its preference for fractured narratives and multiple interpretations over linear stories and pat endings.

During their mutual interview, Burroughs brought up the then-current rumor that Bowie might play Valentine Michael Smith in a film adaptation of Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land. Bowie again dismissed it. “It seemed a bit too flower-powery, and that made me a bit wary.” For his part, Bowie’s fellow sci-fi musician Mick Farren of the Deviants later admitted he always thought Michael Valentine Smith was a major influence on Ziggy Stardust. “I was certain someone would call him out for plagiarism,” Farren said. “Nobody did.”

Bowie may have denied his affinity for Stranger in a Strange Land by his boyhood go-to author Heinlein, but he was not shy about professing his love for one of the authors Lester Bangs compared him to: George Orwell. Almost as a footnote, Bowie told Burroughs, “Now I’m doing Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four on television.” That project would never come to pass, but it would lay the groundwork for his next, less famous sci-fi concept album – a jagged, atmospheric song cycle that plunged Bowie into the darkest extremes of dystopia.

[missingartist]

The Witcher’s MateChapter 15

Gin was following like water as was male attention. Jaskier had placed her in front of him as he pranced around the stage he had made in front of the fire. It allowed him to serenade her with sweet song and have an overexcited member of the audience to crowd cheering. The soft siren-like voice eased her into a good mood.

Adva had to admit the bard was very good, there was a clumsy awkwardness to his lyrics, but they words fitted well in the theme of the song and with Jaskier overall character which made him a sensation. It was nice to be able to listen to him properly on the stage where he seems most at ease and confident. Adva had to admit it, she like Jaskier, his eternal boyishness was endearing, and his company was easy and fun, and he had a very good eye for fashion. Looking down, Adva was beginning to enjoy the dress she wore, the colour was very much suited to her, and despite her lack of confidence in her body, the dress emphasised her curves and softness. Many men and women had complimented her on her fashion, and she let herself be cheered by it. For once it was nice to be the centre of attention, and after all, it was only for one night to help Jaskier and to get away from Geralt.

Adva’s mind was distracted from the hulking Witcher when sauve and polished man approached. With all the civility of a knight honouring a fair maiden the man begged to keep her company.  He introduced himself as Earl Crispin Troyden, leaning against the chair with an easy smile. The Earl wore a silk doublet of a quilted design of a rich purple his jewelry dazzled in the firelight. The richest opals she had ever seen, so blue she could almost see the deep of the sea in them and hear the soft roar of the waves. Brown eyes radiated out from a chiselled face with a disarming smile that warmed the room as he observed her gaze with interest. With a soft giggle she forced her gaze away from the beautiful gems and on the bard instead.

‘Your friend, the bard, is very talented.... What brings you to the quiet hamlet?’ Crispin asked gently as he poured her some water, and called a serving boy to bring them some food and drinks. The smell of strawberry and rhubarb made her heady, and all shyness had melted away.

‘I am…taking instruction from a master, yourself? Adva answered she didn’t know why but wasn’t really comfortable discussing her training with the Mage to a stranger. There was something unsettling about the man, not in his manner or actions but in his eyes. They where bottomless, and of a captivating intensity that gave her an immense feeling of comfort. Yet they made her uncomfortable and wish she was staring into golden orbs instead.

‘Education is important. So many young women don’t care about such things; they keep their knowledge based solely on the home and fashion when there is so much more to try. I am here to browse some more books to add to my library collection’ the man smoothly added as he lifted his goblet to his lips. Breathing the smell of books and candle wax deeply invaded her senses, it was oddly comforting within soft undertones of musk and sea salt. The smell remaindered of the gentle ocean breeze that would roll off the dock on a sunny day. Despite its soothing nature, it didn’t very little compared to the of the spiced scent of Geralt, who smell she could drink in for days upon end.

‘You have a library? Tell me about it’ Adva gasped, the gin still flowing through her head.

Over dinner, the man regaled her about his library, the titles the authors. They discussed the finer points of several novelists and books on nature that Adva herself was aware of, it was nice to chat to someone who seemed genuinely interested in her for her not what she could do for them. Crispin even invited her to visit and use his collection to further her studies.

‘And you have no formal education; I find that hard to believe’ Crispin smiled as he poured her another cup of gin.

‘Never, I would just pick up anything and read.’ Adva laughed as she took another sip of gin. Was this her sixth or seventh cup or was it her tenth, she had lost count seven songs ago.

‘So your patron is very lucky to have awarded with such diligence. He must be very proud.’ Crispin causal commented, leaning back in his seat to fully observe her, something glistening darkly in his eyes.

‘It is hard to tell he is very…steely faced. Most of the time I think he helped me find Triss because he took pity on me’ Adva confessed, taking another sin of the fizzy gin.

‘Your Triss’s new student…then you must be very bright. I have known her for many years; the first time I have ever heard her take on a student. Don’t sell yourself short.’ The man cooed.

A small blush crept up her neck and spread across her cheeks. When the meal was done, Crispin excused himself reluctantly to attend to business but not before he paid and left a generous tip for the meal; and gave a generous handful to the singing bard and shooting her a dazzling smile. The Earl didn’t go far; his meeting was only across the room with two older gentlemen in fine clothing. Now and then he would cast her a smothering look that made her turn a look away; he was very captivating. Intelligent and kind.

‘Seems you had found a suitable beau’ Jaskier purred and he slipped into the seat opposite that was vacate and pour the Earls handful of gold coin into his purse till it was ready to split at the seams. ‘If he attends all of my performance, I will be able to return to a little city holding and start publishing my collection of poems.’ Jaskier ordered his meal and paid with a flourish as he sank a tankard of ale.

‘If it isn’t my little brie lover’ The Cheesemonger mocked as he sauntered to the table. ‘I thought we were supposed to meet?’ the Cheesemonger was not bad looking but had a thin hooked nose from which he seemed to look down on everyone. It gave him a proud and arrogant appearance which he seems to like to live up to.

Rolling her eyes, she took another swig of gin; this on was mixed with rhubarb cordial and something fizzy that cause little bubbles to explode against her throat as she swallowed. Settling her cup in front of her she squared her shoulders as she turned to him.‘Look Smiggle; I have no idea what you are talking about…I don’t want to talk right now…I am enjoying an evening with someone.’ Adva smiled.

‘No-no-no. The Mage told me you desperately wanted to meet me in the tavern.’

Jaskier smiled into his cup. It was working; all he needed to was to keep a straight face and wait. Casting his eyes across him, Adva stared confused up at the rat-faced man and did her best to ignore it. The gin was giving her the confidence to try and ignore his constant demands; it seemed with gin all manners went out the window, replacing the quiet girl with a bemused woman. Jaskier watch with a masterful nonchalantness. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the familiar figure lurking in a dark corner. Triss was right, after all, a surge of triumph roared within him, and he readied himself to fulfil his part.

‘Must be some confusion good cheese seller’ Jaskier sung. ‘She is already married to a lovely kind man who provides her with an excellent education and has a very with a large sword’ he winked at her ‘so she is good.’ Jaskier beamed up at him, shooing him away with his hand.

‘Married? Bah! Do you expect me to believe it is to you! For the past few weeks, I have only seen her with that Mage and some one-hit Jester who I very much doubt has a ‘large sword’, but I am sure he provides her with more than an education’ The man snarled haughtily, and he bent down to glare into Jaskier face. From the other side of the table, Adva could smell the stale smell of brandy, and the fistful of betting slips tucked into his pockets, all torn and rip, properly from a very unsuccessful night betting with some high rollers. Misery and self-pity fuel the man blindly as he started to jab Jaskier doublet hard with his slimy finger. Casting her eye about she saw Crispin stare amusingly at Jaskier with a hint curiosity.

‘Firstly, it is pronounced Jaskier, Sir. And secondly, I never said I was her husband that is her husband.’ The bard cheekily declared, winking at her.

‘Jaskier stops it; enough I am not married. He is just drunk he’ll….’ Adva groaned in annoyance but stopped as a deadly hush fell over the tavern.

A large black shadow fell over the two men, and Jaskier looked over the other man shoulder smugly. Geralt stood in his undershirt with his sword in hand as he glared down. Adva gasped, she couldn’t help it. Geralt eyes were almost all black like a man possessed. Stood to his full height, the cheese seller barely came to mid chest.

‘See even the lady denies it…just because…’ The cheesemonger breath caught in his throat as he turned and cranked his neck as far back as he could to see the ominous Witcher hunching over him. ‘Are you propositioning my wife?’ Geralt low grunt trickled down the man's neck as he towered over the scrawny man.

Turning around sharply, the small man jumped back in fear, ‘Your…your Geralt of Rivia…. The Witcher…Butcher of Blaviken…I am sorry…I didn’t. I didn’t know that Witcher could get married. She said she…She led me on…’ The man's petty excuses died on his lip, as the Witcher stared unwaveringly at the man.

‘Get up we are leaving’ Geralt growled his eyes following the man who back out the room.

Adva made no move to leave. Instead, she folded her arms and scooted herself around the table. ‘No thank you Geralt I am spending the evening in the tavern.’

Geralt eyes slowly trailed down to her face, letting his dark eyes drink in her defiant feature. Adva stared up at him for what seemed like an age; she was taken about how feral he looked still. Hair wild and menacing sword glistening sincerely in his hand. The Witcher said nothing but his malted golden eye swirled with angry, body tense, a wave of power rippled from him.

‘Adva, are you okay? Is this man causing a problem?’Crispin cut in, eyeing the bard and the Witcher respectively.

‘Who the fuck is this?’Geralt glanced back over at the woman and did a double-take final taking in her form. Her breasts were pushed high up and spilt over the top of the bust, with her breath they flutter gently. Tight and fitted cut left nothing to the imagination ‘and what the fuck are you wearing?’ Geralt snapped and pulled a cloak from the back of Jaskier chair and flung it around her.

‘Geralt stop’ Adva stood and pushed the cloak off her.

‘I think you are making the lady uncomfortable, how a respectable lady dresses has nothing to do with you and I would appreciate it if you didn’t swear when a lady was present. Respectable men don’t.’ The Earl bite out, taking a step closer.

‘Or what’ The white wolf goaded as he advanced on the man.

‘Geralt….Stop it’ Adva push between the men, lips pressed into a tight line.

‘I said we are leaving,’ Geralt growled not taking his eyes off the other man, but a hand curled around her arm and pulled her behind him.

‘Or I will be a force to place the lady under my protection.’ Crispin stood toe to toe as they stared off at each other.

Even at full height, Crispin was still barley 6ft to Geratl massive 6ft 5. Jaskier was scribbling furiously into his journal and gazed a shrug as Adva glared desperately at him for help. She had seen the Witcher in action, and even without a sword, he could easily thrash Crispin without blinking.

‘Adva is under my protection, and if you so much as look at her again, I am going to cut you in two.’ Geralt spoke in deadly calm.

‘My duty is to keep defenceless women safe…I; therefore, place Lady Adva….’ Crispin fell to the floor mid-sentence. Geralt gave a growl in approval pulling back his fist before slinging her over his shoulder and matched from the tavern, ignoring the burst of chatter bubbled as he slammed the door behind him.

So what do you think? Thank you so much for all the pet name ideas! I have a very good idea what is going to happen next. But some of the characters are refusing to cooperate *face palms* But I have up to chapter 22 all planned out.

If you wished to be tagged please message me :)  Please leave a comment.

@broco8​ @introvertedmouse​ @threepupsinapuddle​ @shesthelastjedi​ @luxyash​ @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ @crazynocturnalkiki​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @whitespring21​

[xcelerationcoaching]

Stir Up The Gift!

Stir Up the Gift!

As Believers in Jesus Christ, we have each been given an assignment in the Kingdom of God. As the human body has many parts, so does The Body of Christ. Each human body part has a role or an assignment. Each member of the Body of Christ has a role or an assignment. This heavenly assignment you have been given is connected to your gifts. When we get saved, we are expected to use our gifts in service unto the Lord.

Salvation precedes “Service.”

What does this mean? This means we are saved to serve. Our service to the Lord Jesus Christ is seen by our serviced to others. He told Peter in the 21st chapter of John, “If you love Me, feed my sheep.” He was trying to tell Peter that Love is Action. If we love the Lord Jesus as we claim to then we will minister to or “serve” His people. How do we serve others? We do so by sharing our gifts- be it spiritual or practical, every member of The Body of Christ has gifts. These gifts were given to us, but not necessarily for us.

What you have been gifted to do is not for you to hold to yourself or even for a select few. Rather, God expects each of us to share our gifts with as many as possible, so that His Kingdom can grow and expand.

You may have heard the phrase “Stir up the gift.” There is even a Gospel song with that title. It is assumed that it means that Godwill stir up the gift(s) in us. Well, that is not true. Paul told Timothy in 2 Timothy 1:6 to “stir up the gift.” What is being said here is that Timothy was responsible for stirring up or “activating” the gift that was given to him (by the laying on of hands.) He was responsible for setting in motion and releasing his gift to others. It is not God’s responsibility to stir up or activate our gifts, rather it is our responsibility and choice to activate and share our gifts with others.

What has God gifted you to do? Are you using it? Are you hiding it, due to fear, shyness or are you flat out being disobedient? Whatever has been blocking you from sharing your gift and your calling is directly from the Enemy. He does not want you to walk in your calling or share your gifts because of the many people who will be blessed.

Are you gifted to speak? Write? Sing? Organize? Administrate? Do you have the gift of hospitality and service to others? Do you have the gift of wisdom or knowledge where the Holy Spirit shows you things you might not otherwise know?

Are you called to work with men? Women? Children? Addicts? Homeless? Millennials? Have you been called to start a ministry?

Are you a prophet? Prophetess? Evangelist? Teacher? Apostle? Pastor? If you are called to one of these five-fold ministries and you are not in place, you are doing a huge disservice to the Body of Christ. The five-fold gifts are very crucial positions in the body of Christ.  Evangelists are called to bring the lost souls into the fold. You need to go into the streets and preach the Gospel to the poor, as Jesus instructed us. The harvest is ripe, but the laborers are few. Where are the true Anointed Evangelists who move in the boldness of the Holy Ghost? Are you a true Prophet/Prophetess who speaks boldly what “Thus says the Lord?” If we ever needed a Word from the Lord, it is Right Now! We have enough individuals who prophesy cars, houses, and marriages. Where are those who can truly hear from Heaven and deliver a Right Now Word for the World and the Body of Christ. Are you a true Bible Teacher who can rightly divide the scriptures and use examples to instruct others as our Master Teacher, Jesus Christ did? Are you a “biblical” Apostle? Do you have other ministries and works under you as the Apostle Paul did? Many call themselves this title out of power and popularity, but have you set up ministries under your ministry and do you have a Timothy or a Titus under you, as the Apostle Paul did? Are you a Pastor? Meaning our you a “Shepherd” who would lay his life down for his sheep or members? Or are what the Scriptures call a “Hireling?” Just in position for the money and prestige of being a Pastor. Where are the Modern Biblical Shepherds like David, Abraham and others who were sent by God. Some are sent by God and some just went out from their desire.

Whatever your gifts or calling, this is the definitive hour to get in position. We are in End Times and there are occurrences and events that are occurring that are going to shake up our society. The shaking has already begun Nationally. My challenge to you is to let the Holy Spirit shake you and your gifts and cause you to follow the Good Shepherd, Jesu Christ himself. HE said “My sheep know my voice and a stranger they will not follow.

Make your calling and election sure, as scripture states in 2Peter 1:10. Know exactly what your gifts are and what you have specifically been called to do. Be in the right position when King Jesus returns, so He will say “Well Done, my good and faithful servant, enter into your rest.

Know that we will all be judged by our works for the Kingdom, as stated in Revelation 22:12. This is the time to get busy for the Lord, the Harvest is fully ripe, but the laborers are few.

Stir up your gifts and let the Lord Jesus Christ use you for His Kingdom!

This is Minister Rodney Pitts with

Xceleration Coaching Ministries.

[cosmicflowchart]

Move A Little Closer - Stefan Butler/Reader

Summary: You work up the courage to say hi to that cute boy at the record shop. Warnings: drug mention, mild swearing Word Count: 2,044

You always seem to end up in the record store at the same time as him. Every day or so, he comes in with a list, always on the same type of paper, always wearing the same coat, his eyes downcast and shy. He leaves with a different record every time, and you don’t always catch which one he gets. But he always seems to go to the same section.

You have yet to talk to him.

Today is overcast and dreary but there’s no chance of rain. Thank God, you tell yourself. You’d been caught without a hood in a downpour more than once. You’ve bundled up a little since the temperature’s been dropping over the past few weeks, and whatever few trees are left in this part of town have started changing colors. It’s beautiful in a sad kind of way. The leaves fall off, the trees die, but they don’t really. They grow new leaves as the spring comes and suddenly they’re alive again, as if nothing happened. Maybe something has changed in them, and they’ve grown a few new branches, or their roots have grown deeper, but on the surface it’s the same set of trees.

Your eye drifts to the clock on the wall, numberless and modern, its black hands ticking away slowly. He’s going to come in soon.

Okay, when you think of it like that, it sounds creepy. Maybe it is. But it wouldn’t be if you, you know, talked to the guy.

As you admonish yourself, pretending to flip through records, someone pushes open the door, hands buried in their pockets. He looks around before spotting the section he’s looking for. You make yourself look away; he’ll catch you staring if you keep looking at him like that. He pulls out a list from his pocket and scans the records, thin but quick fingers moving each one. His black curls sit right above his eyes, blocking them as he looks downward.

Kajagoogoo’s “Too Shy” crackles from the shitty old speakers mounted on the walls. You hate that you know every word to this song. It seems to play at the same damn time every time you’re in here--and every time you see him. Maybe the owners or workers saw you come in and basically stalk this guy, and they want to tease you.

Something compels you closer. You aren’t sure what it is, but suddenly you’re walking his way.

You’re aware of how close you’ve gotten almost too late. Thankfully, you snap back to reality and turn to the records. This isn’t really your section, but he doesn’t need to know that. You pull an old list from your pocket.

Actually, now that you’re looking at it, some of the records you hadn’t scratched off might still be here. This place is known for keeping track of their stock, but a good “older” album (anything older than a year, really) might have stuck around.

You flip a few of the records yourself, looking for an excuse to talk to him. Up close you notice his eyes are green, perhaps hazel, but even though they’re not looking at you (yet), you can tell they’re vibrant, keen even. Judging by the music he’s looking through, he’s a bit of an intellectual--pretentious, maybe, but he seems too reserved to be annoying about it. Internally, you sigh in relief.

“Did you see anything by Isao Tomita in here?” you ask him. He jumps a little as he notices you. You give him a small smile and wait for him to answer. He looks back at the records and flips through a few.

“I-I don’t think so,” he murmurs. He’s not uncomfortable though, at least you’re not getting that vibe. More intimidated, if you had to guess at it. He looks back at his list.

“Well, this friend of mine wanted me to pick up this album by that guy,” you add. “Never heard of him before.”

“Wait,” he suddenly stops you. He turns to you again. “Tomita? Did you write down the album?” You hum quietly and scan your list.

“The Bermuda Triangle. With a name like that, it’s either going to blow my mind or bore my mind,” you roll your eyes.

“That’s, actually that’s...that’s weird,” he stumbles over his words. Goddamn he’s cute. You get this way with new people too, though mostly with hot people. You’re surprised at how composed you are right now (on the outside, at least). “I have that on my list too. You said your friend recommended it?”

“Recommended? More like insisted. He’s been trying to get me into music like this, but I’m more of a classic rock fan.” As you talk, you flip through the albums in front of him, your arm accidentally brushing his. He stiffens. “Sorry,” you apologize, your shyness coming back. “Well, now I really want to find it.”

“Not if I find it first,” he jokes. You snort, and he looks at you in confusion. “What?”

“That was funny, so I laughed,” you explain. His mouth’s hanging slightly open, and he’s staring at you. Is that how you’d stared at him before?

“Oh. That’s good,” the corners of his mouth pull up as he nods slightly.

You flip through more albums before realizing you’ve just checked the same set of albums three times. You sigh. “Can we switch places?” you request. He’s stuck his hands back in his pockets, you suspect he’s watching you and he’s forgotten the music. “If this is in alphabetical order by artist instead of album title, it might be further down the line.”

“Yeah, of course,” he agrees, and steps back to let you in front. He then steps to your side. You thumb quickly through the albums. A few flips later, his finger suddenly juts out, touching one of the covers. “Found it.”

You look over at him in surprise. He sees how close he’s come and steps back, apologizing softly. “No, hey, don’t be sorry,” you tell him and pull out the album he’d touched. “You found it. Maybe now my friend can stop being a pretentious little shit bag and recommend some good music.”

“How do you know it’s not good if you haven’t listened yet?” he wonders. You look at him, surprised. You shouldn’t be, really, he seems smart underneath that sweet, anxious expression. But you grin anyway, impressed. Cute and smart. He’s sounding more perfect by the second.

“You may have a point,” you digress. “If you’re looking for it, it must be good. You look like you have an amazing taste for music.”

He chuckles and his head tilts down. “Thank you,” he looks back up at you, though he’s hesitating to look back in your eyes.

You hold the album out to him.

He looks down at it, then meets your eyes, then the album, then your eyes. “Wait, you’re...really? I thought you…”

“I’ll pay for it, but I’m giving it to you,” you tell him with a confidence you don’t remember having before.

“But you were in here first, you’ve been looking longer,” he resists politely. “You can have it.”

An idea pops into your head. You look down at the album. “Alright. I’ll take it, then. But on one condition.” His face presses together in worry. “No, no, it’s not bad, I promise. I just…” You can’t look at him for a moment. You gather the courage and perk up. “I’ll be honest, I’ve seen you come in here, a lot. We seem to come in around the same time every few days, I know that sounds really creepy, but I’ve never had the nerve to say hi before, or even ask your name. Sorry for being kind of pushy.”

“I didn’t think you were at all,” he shakes his head at this.

“Oh okay, good,” it’s your turn to blush. His eyes are green, you notice now, and the way they’re focused on you rocks you to your core. You can’t recall anyone ever looking at you like that before. You almost don’t want him to leave. “Um, well, the condition was…” you start but don’t finish. “Sorry.” He watches you, no judgment in his features. You relax a little and try again. “I’m so sorry, I don’t even know your name yet! I should’ve probably started with that, sorry.”

“I’m Stefan,” he tells you, his lips parting, and you notice a few of his front teeth are crooked. You resist the urge to clutch your chest and fall to the ground.

“Stefan. I like that name,” you tell him back and he’s blushing again. “I’m (y/n). Do you shake hands?”

“Oh, uh, I can,” he stammers a little. “I’m just, I fidget a lot,” his hands come out of his pockets and they press together as if to demonstrate, “sorry.”

“I fidget too,” you shrug. His eyes light up, as if they weren’t already blazing before. “No worries if you don’t want to. I don’t always like making contact with strangers. Physical contact, I mean, I did just talk to you randomly, so I guess I did make contact.”

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “What’s your name again? Sorry, you said it but I’ve forgotten. I’m so bad at this.”

“Hey, I’m pretty bad at making friends too. My name’s (y/n).”

He repeats the name. “That’s nice, I like that name.” You’re pretty sure you’ve already died internally from how cute he is, but now you’re a little worried you’re going to die externally too.

“That’s really sweet, Stefan. You just made my whole day.”

“You made mine too,” he smiles back. God, you both probably look like dorks, but you really don’t care. You have a new friend, or more, depending on how things go.

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t get to the condition yet,” you remember suddenly.

“Condition?” he’s forgotten already. You chuckle a little.

“For giving me the album back. If you let me buy this for myself, do you want to go get coffee or something? Do you drink coffee?”

“Tea, actually.”

“I know a place nearby that sells local brands,” you offer.

“Are you offering or demanding?”

“...Yes?”

“I’d love to,” he grins.

“Okay then! I’ll go buy this and we’ll walk over, yeah?” He nods in affirmation and the two of you head for the counter.

After buying it, you leave, and Stefan runs a little bit to catch up with you. You slow your pace so he doesn’t have to jog to keep up.

“Can I ask something?” he starts chatting with you.

“Go for it.”

“What’s your friend’s name? The one who wanted you to get that.”

“Colin.”

“Colin as in, Colin Ritman?”

“Don’t know, I don’t think I ever found out his last name. Don’t ask how I know him, we’re just casual buddies,” you throw up your hands, looking around to see if there are any cops. Seeing none, you keep talking.

“I work with him.”

“Wait. Colin Ritman, as in, Tuckersoft Colin Ritman? Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” his face lights up as you recognize the name. You get the sense he doesn’t do this much, and you also wonder if this is an excuse to possibly info-dump. You kinda hope that it is.

“Well, shit. Didn’t know I sold pot to Colin Ritman.”

“Wait, you what?”

“Forget I said that,” you wave a hand at him as you both round a corner. “I’ve only played a few of his games. Commodore, mostly.”

Stefan gasps quietly, making you laugh. “Sorry, I, uh, I’ve played everything but his Commodore games.”

“Dream come true, then?”

“Yeah. Do you mind if I, uh, tell you about the game he’s working on right now?”

“Only if it’s not a huge company secret.”

“Um...it might be, I don’t know.”

“Hell, I’m not gonna tell anyone. You’re probably my only friend.”

“That’s weird, you seem like you’d have loads of friends.”

“It would appear the plan is working. No one knows I’m a giant fucking nerd,” you deadpan, and he laughs, and your heart soars. “Tell me about his new game. I like hearing you talk.”

“Really? Thank, thank you,” he fidgets a little with his hands. “It’s called Nohsdyve, and the sprite work is really smooth…”

A/N: Hi there, I’m gonna get to Colin once I figure out how to write something that isn’t a million parts long. I keep wanting to do something with the reader or Colin remembering shit about each other from other endings/timelines, but that always gets complicated (and it’s been done a bunch of times before). Might just go for straight fluff to start with him, then move up a bit. Anyway, hope you enjoyed, give this a like if you did, and follow if you want to read more!

[effyeahzimbits]

Swawesome Santa 2018 Submission

Title: Five Times Bitty and Jack Allowed Fate to Get the Better of Them…and the One Time They Took Matters into Their Own Hands Rating: T+ Pairings: Jack/Bitty, mentions of Shitty/Lardo, mentions of Holster/Ransom. Very, very brief Jack/OC and Bitty/OC. Warnings: Alcohol use, brief mentions of Jack’s overdose. Summary: Bitty always felt like he was missing a train he was meant to have taken. Jack always let the universe decide which direction he should go in. It took them three New Year's Eves before they got it right.A 5+1 things AU fic created for the Swawesome Santa, gifted to @loveyoutoobits! I hope you like it.

 Five Times Bitty and Jack Allowed Fate to Get the Better of Them…and the One Time They Took Matters into Their Own Hands   

31st December 2017    Bitty’s first New Year’s Eve in Boston was spent in a bar. He wasn’t a stranger to bars, especially the loud, gaudy one he was in right now. But he had previously rung in the new years with his parents at family parties back in Madison, Georgia, and had been desperate for a change of scenery. When his best friends had suggested a night out on the town, he had jumped at the chance. He never turned down an opportunity to dance and spend the night with his friends.     That was also the night he first met Jack Zimmermann.    

     Now, Bitty didn’t know a great deal about hockey culture. He knew the game and enjoyed it just as much as his friends did, but he never took that much interest in teams’ rosters and star players. But Jack Zimmermann, the Providence Falconers’ current captain, he knew. If only because he scored a hat trick in their last game against the Bruins and Holster was furious for a week. Bitty had been impressed enough to Google him, and had been impressed further by the man’s understated smile and bright blue eyes. Still, he was just another hockey player.     Just another hockey player who turned out to be the best friend of Lardo’s new boyfriend.     Bitty could see right away he wasn’t the partying type. While Bitty and his friends downed shots and sang at the top of their lungs and danced without a care in the world, Jack simply sat at a booth nursing a single beer and watching them have a good time. When questioned he just said he was perfectly happy as he was, and Shitty (Lardo’s boyfriend) would confirm it. Bitty mostly forgot all about him and continued partying. That was, until he felt Jack’s eyes on him.     No one knew how he did it. Hell, even Bitty himself didn’t know how he did it. But one moment he was playfully beckoning Zimmermann from the dance floor, and the next Jack was joining him. He looked just as surprised to find himself there as anyone else, but Bitty wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity. With Shitty, Ransom and Holster all hollering excitedly behind them, Bitty tugged Jack towards him.     It turned out that Jack Zimmermann wasn’t a bad dancer. He was a little shy and awkward at first, swaying stiffly beside him. Bitty would later blame it on the alcohol, but at the time he just simply didn’t think and grabbed Jack’s hand and pulled. Jack’s professional athlete build wasn’t fazed by the gesture, but something in him was, and it was enough to encourage him to move. A couple of songs in, and Jack was matching Bitty’s peppy rhythm.     Bitty couldn’t put his finger on it, especially with his brain fogged with a haze of Jägermeister and Red Bull, but there was something between them that neither of them expected. It was almost an electricity, thrumming with an energy that made the hair on Bitty’s forearms stand on end. It started at their joined hands and vibrated through them until it resonated in their chests. He’d barely said more than two sentences to Jack Zimmermann all night, but suddenly Bitty wanted to kiss him.     He could tell the exact moment Jack became aware of the connection. The easy smile on his face quickly dropped and was replaced with an uneasy confusion. There was a muttered excuse – Bitty couldn’t hear it over the pounding music – and then Jack turned and hurried out of the bar, fighting his way through the crowd. Bitty watched him go, then shrugged carelessly and turned around to dance with his friends again.    It wasn’t until he woke up the next morning, slightly hungover but content, did he wonder if the universe had tried to give him something and he let it pass him by.   5th May 2018     Bitty had explicitly said no parties. Every birthday for the last four years his friends had threw a raging kegster to celebrate. For his first birthday out of college, all Bitty wanted was to call his parents, bake some nice food and share it with his friends over a glass of good wine and the Great British Bake-Off reruns (the better ones, before Mary, Mel and Sue had quit the show obviously). Ransom, Holster and Shitty had taken a little more persuading, but had soon agreed after Bitty had promised his signature peach cobbler and black forest brownies.     His phone call to his parents lasted nearly an hour. His relationship with them had been a little strained since coming out, but it was slowly getting better, and he hung up with a big smile on his face. Lardo had still been in bed at ten that morning, so he went to the store to fetch baking ingredients on his own. It was cliché, but it was a perfect spring day, like it was the movie of his life.     Working as a junior social media and marketing assistant had its perks, like weekends off. Today was a Saturday, so he wandered down to the fresh foods market for his ingredients. The peaches weren’t quite as sweet as the ones back home, but the ones here were a close second. He left an hour later with his tote bag full to the brim with ripened fruit and fresh spices and fingers sticky with pear juice. He stopped by his favourite deli next, the one with the premium butter and organic flour. His budget never usually stretched past Walmart, but he had birthday money burning a hole in his pocket.     It was late afternoon by the time he got home. The kitchen smelled strongly of ground coffee, and he found Lardo perching on a chair and trying to hang purple streamers from the lampshade. She had put on her favourite sweatshirt for the occasion, the one with a rubber duck wearing sunglasses, and that alone made Bitty’s chest swell with happiness. They finished putting up the streamers between them and had lunch, squabbling over whose turn it was to use the one decent plate they had. It was Lardo’s, who overruled Bitty’s birthday argument with a smirk and a flick to his forehead.     An hour later he was elbow deep in pastry when the buzzer rang. It was Ransom and Holster, bearing wine and beer and takeout menus, though they all knew they’d be too full of pie to eat the Chinese food they’d still order. The wine was shared out and they were put to work, greasing tins and chopping fruit. Shitty appeared not long after, and gave Bitty a slurpy, whiskery kiss on his cheek before handing over more wine. He wore a suspicious grin for a whole hour and sang loudly and out of tune to the radio as he peeled peaches.     When the buzzer went a third time, everyone looked around at each other in confusion, except Shitty, who just grinned even wider. Bitty rolled his eyes and wiped his hands on a towel, wondering who on earth Shitty had invited. Maybe a stripper. He didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved when he found a shy looking Jack Zimmermann in the hallway. He was pleasantly surprised though, especially when Jack sheepishly held out a small bunch of flowers and wished him happy birthday.     He’d met Jack a handful of times since New Year’s Eve. He’d learned that Jack wasn’t quite as stoic and robotic in real life as his television interviews would have you believe. He was quiet and reserved, but also thoughtful and could hold his own in an intelligent discussion. His accent was just as endearing though, and Bitty found his awkward shyness adorable. Bitty never denied the attraction to himself, but it was never one he would act on either.     Parties and clubs might not have been his thing, but it turned out that quiet gatherings with people he knew were more to Jack’s taste. He threw himself into the baking, listening to Bitty’s instructions with keen ears and following them with enthusiasm. After a glass of wine Bitty would even call him charming, quick to tease or crack a joke. If Bitty didn’t know any better, he’d say Jack was flirting with him when he flicked flour in his face or purposely nudged his pie out of the way when he tried to take a bite. But Bitty did know better. Guys like Jack were never Not Straight. And even if they were, Bitty was never their type.     It was probably the best birthday he’d ever had, anyway. By the end of the night, his and Lardo’s apartment was a complete mess. The streamers had fallen, there were plates and takeout cartons all over the living room and the kitchen was filled with dirty pans and covered in a fine layer of flour dust. They’d eaten and drank until they were fit to burst, argued over which Bake-Off contestant would win in a mud fight, and Jack had offended them all by declaring he didn’t find Mary Berry all that great. Come midnight, Ransom and Holster had wandered back to their own apartment and Lardo had dragged a wasted Shitty back to her room. Bitty told Jack he didn’t need to stay and help tidy, but Jack insisted anyway.     It was only when they were both alone did Bitty feel it again. That strange electricity that drew Bitty towards Jack like a moth to the flame. He couldn’t blame the alcohol this time, not after only two glasses of wine. Jack either wasn’t aware of it, or was ignoring it, focusing hard on wiping flour from the counter tops. Bitty tried to do the same, humming along to the quiet tune playing on the radio as he filled a trashbag full of rubbish. They worked without a word, moving around almost in tandem, like they had done it a million times before.     Bitty didn’t believe in fate, or soul mates, or past lives. At least, he didn’t until their rhythm was suddenly broken and they bumped into one another. Jack had flour on his nose and a dirty cloth in his hand. Bitty had a smudge of cherry sauce on his mouth and was holding a stack of empty plates. They both laughed and then went still. It felt like they were both waiting for something as they looked at each other, taking in lashes and eyes and noses and freckles and dimples and mouths. Waiting for what though, they didn’t know.     Jack’s phone pinged. It was loud enough to break the reverie and they both pulled free from the spell. Jack could never leave a text unanswered, and for the briefest of seconds Bitty wished that he would. Ignoring a text would make him not-Jack though, so he couldn’t be too disappointed when Jack took a step back and pulled his phone from his back pocket. Bitty cleared his throat and continued his task like nothing had happened.     Jack was still staring at his phone screen a couple of minutes later. His brows were slightly furrowed, but Bitty couldn’t read the expression on his face. He questioned him gently, and Jack almost jumped, like he’d forgotten where he was. He managed an apologetic smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He didn’t explain himself or the text message, and simply announced that he had to leave. With a last ‘happy birthday’ he showed himself to the door and left.     Bitty felt like he had just missed a train that he was supposed to take.   31st December 2018     They didn’t go to a bar that year. Ransom and Holster threw a party in their apartment, though it was thankfully not as outrageous as the kegsters they used to host in college. Their work friends were accountants and administrators and fellow consultants so Bitty wasn’t expecting it to get too wild. He’d had a pleasant, sleepy Christmas with plenty of good food and catching up with family, so didn’t mind that this new year was different to the last. Lardo brought Shitty along, who naturally dragged Jack with him. Bitty was over the moon to hear this, hoping that maybe fate would give them both a helping hand this year.     However, it appeared that fate had other plans in store. Jack appeared at the party as promised, but Bitty hadn’t expected to see a young, smiley blonde man attached to his hip. Jack introduced him as his boyfriend, and Bitty felt like the floor had abruptly disappeared from beneath him. It was a lot to process all at once. He’d started to have suspicions that Jack was Not Straight as Bitty had originally thought, and to have that confirmed was a little overwhelming. Then to learn that he was also suddenly spoken for left Bitty with a bitter taste in his mouth.     He and Jack had grown close over the last few months, and he thought that they shared everything over a glass of wine and a slice of pie. It turned out that was wrong though, and Bitty wasn’t sure what he felt more betrayed about. Still, he plastered on a smile and congratulated them as if it wasn’t a knife through his heart.     Jack’s partner was funny and charming and handsome and everyone liked him. Bitty wanted to hate him, but he couldn’t bring himself to. The man had asked for his macaron recipe and talked about his cat for a full twenty minutes for god’s sake. When Bitty had first walked in, he’d eyed the mistletoe hanging over each door with hopeful eyes, but now he just glared at it acrimoniously. It was an ugly way to feel, but Bitty couldn’t help but think the universe was laughing in his face.     The worst thing was, Jack looked happy. Bitty was pleased for him, but it was tainted, and he hated that it was marred that way. He spied Jack’s hand casually sitting on the man’s waist or spotted a chaste peck on the cheek between them and wanted to down another shot. He didn’t want to spend the night torturing himself, but he didn’t want to succumb to the jealousy either. He left at eleven, feigning a headache and smiling through the well wishes.     He would spend tonight pitying himself, and then starting tomorrow he would get over Jack Zimmermann.   August 3rd 2019     Getting over Jack Zimmermann was damned hard. But Greg helped. Bitty had met him at one of Shitty’s law school mixers. He was an ex-college rugby player, dragged along to the event by his friend. Tall, broad, half Greek with a mop of dark, curly hair and an accent that made Bitty’s knees weak. He hadn’t dated seriously since college, and it was hard work. Between working their full-time jobs, Greg’s beer league rugby and Bitty’s figure skating, they barely had enough time to squeeze in dates and time together, but Bitty enjoyed it all the same.     Greg wasn’t Jack. They didn’t share the same sense of humour, and Greg’s taste in music and television wasn’t to Bitty’s tastes, and Greg was bossier and more assertive than Jack ever was. But he was also kind and caring and Bitty had a nice time with him. Even if he wasn’t Jack. But that was okay, because nobody could be Jack but Jack. And Bitty had to be fine about it. He could do that. They hadn’t had time to hang out much lately, but tonight was Jack’s birthday, and Shitty was throwing a get together in his honour. Bitty hadn’t originally wanted to bring Greg along, though he wasn’t sure why. Shitty had invited him too though, and Greg seemed to be looking forward to it. Bitty couldn’t exactly tell him no.      He had no idea what to get Jack for his birthday. What do you get the man who has everything? And if he didn’t have it, he had more than enough money to buy it anyway. This year, Jack had bought Bitty an entire collection of cookbooks from his favourite baker. Bitty knew it cost more than a whole month’s worth of his wages, though to Jack it was probably nothing. How could Bitty match something like that? He knew Jack wasn’t expecting him to, but it still made him feel inadequate.     Whatever it was, it had to be something special. It was almost an apology. I’m sorry we haven’t hung out much and you’ve taken a backseat to my actual Greek god boyfriend. Bitty didn’t think he should feel too guilty though. As far as Bitty knew, Jack was still with his own boyfriend. It was never talked about in the media for obvious reasons, but still, Bitty would know if they’d broken up. No, this get together would be good for the both of them. They could exist in the same room without that stupid electric connection between them. And even if it did appear, their boyfriends would keep it at bay.     Right?     Wrong.     It wasn’t an entire collection of cookbooks, but Bitty turned up on Jack’s swanky Providence doorstep with Jack’s favourite pie and a Barnes and Noble gift card. A feeble attempt, but he’d genuinely been stumped. He knew Jack liked history books, but Bitty was frightened of getting the wrong one. He explained this to Jack in a nervous ramble as he handed them over, but Jack laughed and thanked him sincerely anyway. It was only after Bitty stepped over the threshold did Jack notice who had been standing beside him.     Bitty introduced Greg hurriedly, hoping his edgy fluster wasn’t completely obvious to either of them. Jack was polite and smiley and shook Greg’s hand, but something about it seemed fake. Bitty tried to ignore it, heading straight to the wine. His friends were already around, and he greeted them with false enthusiasm. Once he had his glass in hand and looked around the apartment he noticed Jack’s boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. The pictures of them both were gone, as were the cat hairs and various caps and hoodies they used to share.     Jack and his boyfriend had broken up.     Bitty could’ve kicked himself. He had been so wrapped up in getting over Jack he’d forgotten to be a friend in the meantime. How long had it been since they had last hung out? Or had a lengthy phone call? The only thing Bitty had managed lately was a few quick texts and picture messages every now and again, all of which Jack had promptly replied to. He felt like an idiot. He had to apologise, but he wasn’t sure that this was the right moment. Jack looked like he was enjoying himself.     A few glasses of wine later, Bitty managed to push his guilt aside for the time being. He’d always loved Jack’s kitchen, and couldn’t resist baking in his top of the range oven, no matter the occasion. He was pulling out a tray of freshly baked mini tarts when he realised he was being watched. People had popped in and out the whole time he was baking, to fill up drinks or fetch snacks, but this time the body lingered. Bitty turned to tell them they’d have to wait a bit longer for the tarts to cool, but the words disappeared off his tongue when he noticed it was Jack.     Jack stood in the doorway, a half-drunk bottle of low alcohol beer in his hand. He had a determined look in his eyes that made Bitty go still, though his heart started to hammer in his chest. He didn’t say anything, waiting for Jack to make the first move. The energy was between them again, throbbing loud and unspoken. The metal tray shook in Bitty’s hands.    Jack opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He closed his mouth again, frowned, thought about it. Jack had never been one to say a lot, but each word was usually carefully thought out and selected. Bitty waited, expecting something insightful and meaningful. Jack opened his mouth, closed it, frowned again and thought some more.     Greg made them both jump. He was never quiet or graceful and strode in to the kitchen with a booming voice. He was half drunk, grinning at them and calling back to the others as he filled his glass, stole a mini tart and gave Bitty a swift peck on the cheek. He left almost as quickly as he appeared, but the moment was ruined. Jack gave him a stiff nod and retreated to the living room having clearly lost his nerve.     Bitty slammed the hot tray down onto the marble counter, feeling like he’d missed the train again.   31st December 2019     Tonight, Bitty was going to get drunk. He knew it was silly and immature, but these last few months had been stressful and depressing. He felt like he deserved to let loose and get messy and see off the year in style. A lot of things had happened this winter, including a promotion, Shitty and Lardo’s engagement, and his and Greg’s breakup. He hadn’t been angry or surprised, just disappointed. Greg wasn’t Jack, after all.     Jack wouldn’t be attending the party. He’d had a string of games and a long roadie over the last couple of days and wouldn’t be making it back to Providence until past eleven pm. Bitty knew that Jack would head straight to bed rather than get changed and drag himself to a loud and crowded bar after all of his travelling, and Bitty couldn’t blame him. The season had started off rough, and Jack hadn’t much time for anything in between practicing, playing, resting and all of his extra-curricular events.     Bitty knew this, but couldn’t help feeling frustrated. He’d tried to reach out, especially after his breakup, but Jack felt distant now and Bitty didn’t know how to bridge the gap. He didn’t have the energy anymore. He decided that if Jack was interested in preserving their friendship, it was his turn to make the effort. Bitty wasn’t holding his breath.     It was a fun party. It was the same LGBT+ friendly bar they went to two years ago, and Bitty felt an affinity for it. It almost felt like déjà vu, and if Bitty tried hard enough, he could almost imagine Jack sitting in his corner and nursing his beer. He wouldn’t though, he was done with torturing himself over Jack Zimmermann. He threw himself into the moment instead, filing to memory the song that was playing, the way he felt shimmying to the music, the sight of Lardo’s glittery red lipstick, the smell of Holster’s cheap cologne, the taste of Jägermeister on his tongue.     His phone buzzed at some point, but he ignored it. It buzzed a couple more times and he ignored it again, wanting to switch off from everything that wasn’t this party and this drink in his hand. Midnight was drawing closer, and he was sober enough to be aware of the heavy feeling in his chest. He watched Shitty and Lardo and Ransom and Holster dancing together and all of the other people surrounding him, and he never felt more alone. He suddenly started to wish he was anywhere but there. He wanted to be wherever Jack was.     But Jack wasn’t here. Instead there were dozens of good looking, charming boys dancing around him. A few had tried to catch his eye, and he knew he would have no problem finding someone to dance with. And if they so happened to share a kiss when the clock struck twelve, then where was the crime in that? Just a kiss, on New Year’s Eve, between two consenting adults. No big deal.     The man whose arms he fell into just happened to be tall, and dark, and blue eyed. Maybe he had a type. He didn’t look much like Jack, but if he thought hard he could just feel Jack’s hands on his hips. He looked hard at the boy’s face, trying to imagine Jack in the high cheekbones and full lips. He shook his head, wafting away the daze. That was stupid, he couldn’t keep doing this to himself.     He looked away, but he was starting to see Jack everywhere. A man by the bar had the same jacket. Another guy on the dance floor had the same awkward dance steps. A boy waiting by the toilets had a similar smile. His eyes drifted toward the door and even saw Jack standing there, a single flower in his hands and watching him. But it wasn’t real. None of these men were Jack.     Bitty turned back to the one in his arms and waited for midnight.   31st December 2019     Jack was done waiting. He was tired of letting everything else dictate his life for him. Ever since he was born he felt like the universe had already decided what was going to happen to him. The Q, the overdose, rebuilding his career from the ground up. He couldn’t choose his team. There was only one in the AHL who wanted to set him on after the scandal. He was forever grateful, but it wasn’t something he could choose. He’d worked damn hard to get where he was today. An NHL team, a captaincy and two Stanley Cups under his belt.     The last time he made a decision for himself he ended up nearly killing himself. Even now, he was worried that choosing something for himself could ruin everything. So, he waited. He let people walk in and out of his life as they saw fit. He allowed situations to happen to him, never fighting them or questioning them. It was just the universe deciding for him and he was in no position to try and take control.     Until now.     Jack stood in the doorway of the bar, watching Bitty dancing with another man. He turned the flower around in his hands. It was the same kind he’d bought for Bitty on his birthday a year and a half ago. It was a little cheesy maybe, but he had known Bitty would like it. He’d texted, letting him know he was on his way, but Bitty had never seen the messages. Bitty clearly had different things on his mind. And the old Jack would have turned away, deciding it was just what fate had decided for them, just like always.     But not this Jack.     This Jack was tired and in love. He strode forward, pushing his way past the various bodies towards the dance floor. Bitty’s eyes had drifted over him like he hadn’t realised Jack was really there. Jack couldn’t really blame him. He hadn’t been there, not recently. He’d been caught up in the start of the season, dealing with his own break up, torn between wanting to give Bitty space or comfort him after his. It had been a hard few months for both of them. Jack figured it was time to make it better.     He grabbed Bitty’s arm and pulled him around, ignoring the guy he was dancing with as he protested. Bitty opened his mouth to tell him off, but they were both momentarily stunned as they stared at each other. Bitty was shocked to see him, but Jack was stunned yet again by just how beautiful this boy was. And he was going to have him. He was going to take matters into his own hands.     He’d rehearsed a speech in the car, but the words left his brain. He suddenly couldn’t think of anything to say. He didn’t know how to explain what he was thinking or feeling and awkwardly fumbled. Bitty watched and waited with a familiar patience. Bitty never rushed him. Bitty always knew that each word needed time and thought. But still, the words wouldn’t come. Instead, Jack dumbly held out the flower and hoped that would be enough.     It was.     As the people around them started to chant a countdown, Bitty and Jack stepped forward. No more running away. No more making excuses. No more letting opportunities pass them by. Bitty jumped on the train. Jack took control. They couldn’t help but laugh, gazing at each other like they were the only two people in the world. The clock struck twelve.     “Happy New Year, Bits.”     “Happy New Year, Jack.”     They kissed. The End Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :) thank you for the notes and the kudos and comments this year - I appreciate every single one of them. For those of you interested - Jack’s mysterious partner was intended to be Kent, but I deliberately left it ambiguous so choose your own!

This was posted for the Swawesome Santa 2018 event and gifted to Loveyoutoobits.

[aster-ria]

Heirs of Prythian Profile

Name: Echo Vanserra

Age: (600 a.A.) 497

Birthday: 3. June

Epithets/Nicknames:

The Strongest Illyrian

Queen of Victories

The Undefeatable

The Illyrian Princess

Little Wonder (by family)

Positions/Titles:

Princess of Night

Princess of Autumn

Future Second-in-Command to the High Lady of the Autumn Court

Magical Abilities:

Flight by Wings

Siphons (Echo needs 10 Siphons)

Family:

Azriel and Leda (Parents)*

Feyre, Elain, Nesta, Morrigan and Amren (Aunts)

Rhysand, Lucien, Cassian and Varian (Uncles)

Artemas, Arianna, Asteria, Hemera, Helena, Aurelia, Callista, Felicia, Cadan, Cleon, Morena, Morpheus and Pluton (Cousins)

Eris, Berna, Rubin and Garnet (In-laws)

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Romances:

Shaul (ex-boyfriend)

Bowen (ex-boyfriend)

Paris (Mate/Broken Bond)

Ares Vanserra (Husband)

Best Friends: Arianna, Aurelia, Calea, Pallas

Squads:

Future Autumn Court's Inner Circle

Night-Archeron Cousins

Ari-Echo-Aura Trio

Holy Night Guards

Hobbies:

Sparing/Training

Drinking/Creating tea

Singing

Three characteristics to describe them:

Introverted, Strong-willed, Compassionate

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Aesthetics: 1 & 2 & 3

* Azriel and Leda's Story

Where can I begin with Echo ... Full disclosure in the beginning, Echo is heavily inspired by Wonder Woman, which I already hinted when I made Gal Gadot the fancast for Echo in the Family aesthetic. ... I must admit that I don't really think of her that much, so it will probably not as long as Ari or Art.

Echo is an Idol to younger and older female Illyrians. She is unbeatable, powerful, compassionate and graceful. Every Illyrian or other Warrior who challenged her got defeated by her. She can bring Cassian flat on his back every time they fight. Azriel and Cassian couldn't be prouder everytime she does it. No one ever defeated her, but only after she finished the Bloodrite.

Before that Echo was like everybody else new in the camp. She didn't really knew how to fight. Sure she knew a few things because of her family, but nothing that would give her any kind of advantages. She still was really excited to start training with Ari, but also a little sad, since Aurelia wasn't with them. These three were nearly inseparable when they were together. But Echo learned that the Camps weren't as easy or "fun" as she thought they would be. Especially the belittling to females, was something Echo shocked and offended by. So Echo and Ari decided that they would show them that females are just as good or sometimes even better than Males. And they got a lot of help from Marcella - Art's Friend and future General Commander. She trained females at the Camp and took Echo and Ari directly under her wing. Marcella was the Strongest Illyrian before Echo dethroned her. And Marcella wasn't even mad about. She is actually really proud of Echo, because Echo and Ari kinda are like the little sisters she never had.

Echo trained and trained and worked really hard to get good at fighting. And she learned fast that she had an affinity to it. She was/is a quick learner when it comes to combat. She is also quick-thinking, resourceful, fast-adapting and cunning in combat and battles. And so she fast tracked to be one of the best. And after the Bloodrite she is the undisputable and undefeatable Best™.

While Echo loves fighting, especially in a fun sparing situation, she never actually actively seeks out conflicts. But she will not turn down a challenge. And she will kick your ass into the next week.

Her status as "The Undefeatable" is not the only factor that makes her the Best™, but also that she needs to use 10 Siphons to use her magic to it's full extent.

Fun story: In the beginning they only gave her 7 like her dad, and that was ok at first. But a few months later, while trying to use a lot of her magic, half of the Siphons shattered. And Az, who was training her at that moment, quickly concluded that 7 were not enough for Echo and her magic. So they quickly contacted Rhys who then contacted the Illyrians. (I don't know how they decide who gets how many or even who gives it to them, I just pretend they have a kinda like consul or something in Illyria where they decide and measure the new recruits.) Rhys gave them the info that they miscalculated Echo and she got newly measured and equipped. Her Test results positively shocked the whole Family. Since before Echo, 7 and 8 (Marcella and Nikos (Art's best friend, future Commander of the Illyrian army and Marcella's future Husband) were unheard of, but Echo brought it into a new high with 10 Siphons. Azriel and Leda (and everyone else) were so proud. Their Little Wonder just got to be the new Recordholder and Strongest in Combat and in Illyrian-Magic.

Echo is more like Azriel in personality and more like her mother in looks. Echo looks also very similar to Azriel's mother.

When she was little Echo was a shy child, especially around strangers and in public. She liked to hid behind whoever of her family she was standing closest to or she hid her face in whoever was holding her. They always needed a few minutes to coax her out of it and greet the one she was hiding from.

She also wasn't really good in making friends on her own. Echo mostly just followed Ari and Aura around and both were bubbly little girls and made friends on their own. Echo was mostly just a plus-one with almost every other friendship. (Like "i am only friends with you if you are friends with Echo as well, otherwise I wouldn't be your friend since Echo is way better than you" situation with Aura and Ari) But that didn't bother Echo at all. In Echo's mind Ari and Aura and the rest of the family were more than enough.

Over Time Echo lost her shyness, especially in the Camps. But she still is an introvert who would rather be alone or with only a few loved ones most of the time. Not she has something against being with other people for a short period of time, but if there is a choice between doing something alone or with a lot of people, Echo will choose the former.

And like Azriel, Echo is quiet and introverted, but like her mother, Echo likes fighting and being in the spotlight. Echo had nothing against it if attention is on her. She sometimes prefers it to being ignored.

Leda and Azriel are/were glad that their daughter inherited Leda's singing voice. Echo has no problem with singing in front of a lot of people, but only after she grow out of her shyness. Because when she was little, she most of time refused to speak let alone sing in front of strangers. Even singing in front of extended family, especially when all were there, was something Echo didn't really like doing. But alone with only Az and Leda, she would sing loud, boldly, a lot, sometimes out of tune and sometimes complete non sense. Making up her own songs on the go, while twirling and jumping and dancing around their apartment. She also preferred lullabies over Goodnight-stories.

Echo is also very kind and generous, she likes to help people. Especially the ones that really need it. Children love Echo and Echo loves Children, so she taught a lot of young Illyrian children in the Camps. She thaught them basic moves in Combat, how to read your opponent and their movements, how to take care of yourself without depending too much on others, basic survival skills, how treat females, different Fae races, humans, and others with respect, and most importantly confidence in themselves.

A lot little Children - Male and Female - had her as their Role model, Idol, or/and Hero. Most of them still have her as that. And they love to brag to the others, who so unfortunate not to get taught by her - for various different reasons -, that they had "The Undefeatable" Frickin Echo as their teacher.

Echo is an Icon and Inspiration for the Illyrians, especially the younger generations. The younger generations love her and sometimes "worship" her/ "fangirl" over her. Azriel is happy that the Illyrians at least treat his daughter with the respect and admiration she deserves.

I think that's all for now. If you have any questions regarding Echo or anyone else, please feel free to ask, I would love to answer them.

Tagging: @iamthebonecarver | @mindnumbmikey | @thelaziestgeek | @starlightheir (If you want to get tagged, please just tell me and I will tag you as well)