#to give him a feud with someone who will put in nothing so he has to do everything to make hook look really good

[badbanaynas]

i will alaso say that i do NOT care about h00k not ONE BIT. idk why he's been able to hold this yaoi title for so long , like i also don't get how it doesn't make him look absolutely LAME to everyone. liKE J*NGLEBOY IS RIGHT that belt is literally just given to him cause he's a nepo baby.

AND YES! jack is also a nepo baby but your dad being an actor that was famous for about 5-6 ish years , then had to act again to support his kids..is VERY DIFFERENT from your dad LITERALLY being a wrestling veteran in ww3 nOIDMOISMFIOSF.. LIKE CMON

[is-emily-real]

In Love With The Boy

Richard couldn't care less that his son was gay. Quite the opposite, actually. He’d had his fair share of dalliances in his day, and he was glad Steve got to be open about that part of himself.

No, Richard Harrington had a problem with who his son chose to date.

“I don’t like this,” he said as he leaned against the doorway.

Helen touched up her lipstick in the bathroom mirror. “Like what?”

“This whole situation with the Munson boy.” 

She fixed him with a glare. “Now, you swore to me that you’d love our son no matter what.” Even after all this time, she couldn’t drop her drawl when she was ticked off.

“No no, it’s not that. I just don’t think Eddie’s a good idea for Steve.”

“Oh. Well, can’t help love, I suppose.”

“I’ve heard some rumors about him from Darlene.”

“Baby, Darlene’s older than Moses. You ain’t gotta listen to her.”

“I do if I don’t want my coffee poisoned. That woman’s mean.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure Eddie’s perfectly fine. Steve’s happier than he has been since he and Nancy broke up, and we are not going to ruin that for him.”

He put his hands up. “Alright, but I’m allowed to not like him. Father’s intuition.”

“What was it my daddy said the day we got married?”

“When he told my great-aunt I was dumber than a box of rocks or when he called me a no-good papist bastard in front of the priest?”

“Exactly. And it’s been twenty-three years since then. But,” she sighed, “if it makes you feel better, we can come home a bit early tonight, and I’ll talk to him before he leaves.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Thank you. If we hurry, we can get seats by Alan and Brenda.”

Helen flashed that beautiful smile that’d caught his heart so long ago. “No, sir. You and Alan are trouble together.”

------

It was a lazy date, but one Steve wouldn’t give up for the world. He and Eddie were curled up on the couch, a movie playing in the background that he didn’t give a damn about. Instead, he was distracted by the feeling of the man in his arms.

These moments were so different from how Eddie portrayed himself. Out in the world, he was larger than life, eccentric, untouchable. But here, under the blankets, he shared his softest smiles, undid him with the lightest touches. He told Steve stories he’s never told before, shared the little details of his experiences and questioned the meaning of the universe. He drew the same from Steve, until there was nothing in his life that he would hide from these intimate moments.

He traced the scars along Eddie’s sides. If Robin was his other half, Eddie was his compliment, fitting around his curves and edges just so. They moved with each other in intricate patterns, calming and encouraging in turn, bringing out the best and tempering the worst. He adored Eddie and felt adored.

No one had ever made him feel that way before.

“Stevie?” Eddie asked.

He hummed, pressing a kiss behind his ear.

“Where do you see us in the future?”

“Wherever. As long as you’re there, I’m happy.”

“Really? Anywhere?”

“I’d follow you to the moon if you asked.”

Eddie smiled. “I followed you into hell, so it’s only fitting.”

Steve laughed. “Of course.” He took a beat to consider it and continued, “I mean, we can get a little house somewhere and have a couple pets, babysit for the neighbors, grow a little garden. I’d like that.”

“I would too.” He flipped over so their chests pressed together, faces mere inches from each other. Eddie had a mischievous grin on his lips. “I get to pick at least one fight with someone on our street.”

“What for?”

“Blood feuds are the staple of suburbia, sweetheart. How am I to be properly domesticated if I can’t have that basic right?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Fine, but if it comes to blows, I’m not bailing you out.”

“What if they really deserve it? Not even then?” He pouted, giving him those puppy dog eyes he couldn’t resist.

“You’re a menace.”

Eddie pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Yes, but I’m your menace.”

Steve pulled him close, basking in Eddie’s smile as he kissed him soft and slow. A few years ago, he wouldn’t have imagined that he’d be here with the whole world in his hands, content to let the hours pass by as they clung to one another. 

He was safe. He was home.

Eddie drew back, fondness in his eyes as he posed the next question. “Will you spend the rest of your life with me?”

His heart soared. “You mean…”

“Marry me, as soon as we can. Even if we have to run away.” Eddie slipped off the silver skull ring he always toyed with and held it out. “I’ll save up for wedding bands, I swear.”

He almost couldn’t get the words out, the way his heart pounded. “God, yes,” he whispered. The warm metal was snug on his finger, and then, then he was being kissed like the Earth was on the verge of collapse.

They held each other tight, joy and need spinning into something desperate that kept their lips moving against each other, hands tangled in clothes as they let gravity overtake them. Steve felt it snare around his heart, hook them together in a way he’d never protest. 

He never had to let Eddie go again.

The crunch of tires in the driveway cut through his bliss. “Shit!” Eddie squeaked. “You didn’t say they’d be home early!”

“Maybe it’s just someone turning around.” The car came to a stop and cut off. “Son of a bitch.”

They sprang apart, rushing to make themselves presentable. His mother’s heels clicked up the steps.

Eddie’s eyes were as wide as saucers. He grabbed his wrist. “Hey. I love you, okay?”

One short nod. “I love you.” 

The key rattled in the lock. He took a breath, composing his face into casual coolness before the door opened. 

“Boys!” his mom called, wrapping him in a hug. 

“Hey,” he replied, “how was tonight?”

“Oh, it was fine. I’m just a bit tired today, so we figured we oughtta come on home.” She frowned. “We did miss dessert, though. I think I’ll have a slice of pie before bed. Come have some, Eddie.”

She had him by the arm before he could protest. He threw a panicked glance over his shoulder, but Richard’s grip on Steve’s arm stopped any interference. “Steve told me you’ve got family in Tennessee. What part?”

“Just outside Savannah, ma’am.”

“You don’t want to get involved in that.” Richard let him go. “Let’s talk in my office.”

Steve felt like he was going to puke. He followed his dad down the hall, carefully sitting in the armchair across the desk.

Richard fell into the desk chair with a sigh. “You and him are seeing each other, correct?”

Cold sweat dripped down his spine. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Yes.”

His dad pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why couldn’t it have been a good one like Tommy?”

Steve wasn’t normally this slow on the uptake, but it took a few moments for the dots to connect in his mind. “What?”

“You understand that you being with a man is going to make things harder for you, right?” He nodded. “And him having murder accusations worsens it.”

“Obviously false accusations.”

His dad smiled wryly. “Not the way a lot of people in town see it. And your mom went over those NDAs with a fine tooth comb. They’re watertight.”

“Hold on, are you mad that I’m in love with a guy, or are you mad that the guy is Eddie?”

“The latter, and I’m not mad, just disappointed.” He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk. “I’m not losing my only son because of who you fell in love with.” 

The confusion must have been apparent, because he continued. “Your mother and I love you, and nothing’s going to change that. We just want to make sure you’re safe and he’s treating you right.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, um, yeah. Sorry, this… this is not how I expected this to go.”

“You know how to be a gentleman, and you shouldn’t tolerate any less from him.”

“He’s been perfectly sweet. Why— Why are you not freaking out about this?”

Richard gave him a look. “Have you ever really thought about how we call Terry your uncle even though he’s just Mark’s roommate and we’re not really related?”

“Well, yeah, they’ve lived together for fifteen… Oh.” The final piece clicked into place.

“Yep. Kinda saw it coming, to be honest. You’re a bit vain for your own good.” He shrugged. “You boys are being safe, right?”

“Dad!”

“And not just with the sex stuff. You can handle yourselves in a fight?”

Steve, despite never having won any fight against a human person, nodded. 

“Good.” He stood and walked around the desk to wrap Steve in a brief hug. “You’re my son, and you’ll always be welcome here.” Just as briskly, he let go.

“Thanks,” Steve winced at the sound of his voice cracking.

Helen’s voice rang out warmly. “Good night, Eddie! Drive safe!”

He took that as his cue to step out. In the hall, he found Eddie, face pale and eyes wide as they flicked back and forth from his parents’ bedroom and the plate in his hands. 

Eddie turned to face him with a haunted look. “I’m scared of your mom.”

Richard clapped him on the back. “We all are, son. You boys don’t stay up too late.” With that he walked down the hall, shaking his head. Eddie was smarter than he looked. Maybe it’d be good for Steve to keep him around.

[demigoddessqueens]

because we’re met to be

A/n - based off this ask

Altair 🗡️ - it’s a bit of an awkward confession but you see the genuine emotion behind his eyes and it warms your heart the oh so serious one cares for you

Jacob 🎩 - cheeky boi who kisses you first before he goes on about who else will put up with him

Ezio - oh he’ll kiss away any of those lingering doubts because he’s grown close to you, wants to love again, and couldn’t imagine living a long life without you

Edward 🏴‍☠️ - the Assassin pirate is so effortlessly smooth with you when he tells you how he feels on the bow, his lucky charm and the one who keeps him grounded

Bayek 🏹 - deep look into each other’s eyes, adoring you, you’re important and dear to him

Haytham 🇬🇧 - he loves how you’re a part of his life that isn’t a part of centuries’ feuds, and he wants to keep it that way

Aya - you’re her motivation, her guide and a part of her heart that runs deeper than the Hidden Ones

Shay 🍀 - he’s not the best with words, but even as the stern Irishman rambles out how important you’ve become to him and that it’s been a while since he’s felt this way about someone

EDIT: Arno 🇫🇷 - oh nothing serious, just the fact that you’re his very reason for being, love, life and pillar of everything good despite what’s happened in his life

Aveline - calls you “mon Cherie” first because that’s what you are to her, and in rebuilding a life, you’re a cornerstone to it

Connor - you’re his hope, his new beginning and the healing he’s welcomed to his life

Evie - she’s always been so hesitant with her feelings, but you give her the freedom to open with how she feels towards you

Desmond - in learning of his heritage, you’re the anchor that keeps him tethered back to this world rather than being lost in his own head

Kassandra - you’re the one she’ll carry in her heart for the lifetimes to come

Eivor - the Aesir pale in comparison to you and you’re an ethereal sight to the Viking warrior

EDIT2: Alexios - you’re the unlikeliest of support, strength, and companionship for the one turned Deimos, he didn’t realize he was lonely in such a way until he met

Basim - more than just a pretty face in all the ways, you’re the compass to the newfound life he has with the Hidden Ones

[lili863]

Animagus

(pt 4)

Work count: 3.1 k

Matteo Riddle x MC

AN: Enemies to lovers, Quidditch, banter, conspiracies, dark arts, manipulation, death eaters, Slytherin boys, action, romance

Masterlist

You stood there in the hallway, quivering breaths escaping your lips, as your fingers skimmed the skin the your neck, where your pendent once sat. Full blown panic had set in and only thing running through your mind was how fucked you were.

This was the same pendent that you had as a child , a precious family heirloom and one of the most important keys to your future.

Quite literally.

That pendent wasnt just invaluable, it's also the key to the Cromwell manor you will be inheriting after 18. All your hopes and dreams were in that damn pendent.

You didnt know he was just going to snatch your necklace like that. It was last thing you expected. And how he managed to understand that this necklace was so worthy of silencing you was beyond you.

Unless...he stalked you this entire week and manage to make a good guess.

Your hands frantically ran through your hair as you exhaled a stressful sigh.

"Fuck" was all you could murmer.

Your lips burned from the kiss even now as your stood dazed, the taste of his arrogance still lingered on your tongue and humilation creeping up at the fact that you stupidly played right into his trap.

You knew you were smarter then that. You knew in the back of your mind with your inexperience there was no way that you could give him an unforgettable kiss.

No.

You were just being teenager who heart won over mind and really just wanted to kiss the him despite the the injustice and embarrassment he put you through.

Self hate and regret wasn't as common with you, but when you did feel it, it felt as if your skin was on fire and you wanted nothing more then bang your head repeatedly against the stone walls.

"Idiot" You murmured to yourself before beginning to walk back. How could you let this happen? How could you waste your first kiss him? How could he do this..to you?

It wasnt just the embarrassment, it was your dignity. And that's the wound you knew would take a while to forget about.

You tried to blink away welling of tears, knowing ti would be wasted on someone like him.

You needed that pendent back. Forget about the stupid deal, forget quidditch, forget ripple for now, that pendent is the only key to the manor. No duplicates.

If he wanted to threaten you to silence, then so be it. For you, you knew you had to comply. But whatver little feud Riddle thought he had with you, now just turned to full blown war.

Now you were pacing fast, each step a fueling the fire within you.

You were going get that pendent back one way or another, and he is going to pay with everything he has.

The Cromwell family is an ancient and distinguished wizarding lineage, its roots stretching back to the late 1600s. Though absent from the Sacred Twenty-Eight due to traces of Muggle ancestry that hasn’t stopped their name from carrying a heavy weight in the wizarding world.

The Cromwells are known for producing some of the best duelists and magical talents around. A fact backed up by the many family members whom carried aspen wands with rare cores.

Though their influence in Europe has diminished due to the family spreading out globally, the Cromwells still had a strong legacy. And a secret.

One that even someone as estranged as you knew and taught how to gaurd by your aunt.

Which was the family's unique connection to anicent magic. It’s a well-kept secret, passed down through generations, that the Cromwell line has produced a remarkable number of ancient magic wielders. This was truly set them apart from other families. What set you apart.

Ancient magic isn’t just a rare and powerful form of magic; it’s deeply entwined with the very essence of the wizarding world. It’s the magic of the 'old ways' as they say it, raw and untamed, capable of feats beyond the reach of even the most skilled modern wizards. Only a few people have ever been able to tap into it, and the Cromwells are at the forefront of those select few.

And as a direct descendent, you were given that pendant imbued with ancient magic to safeguard until your coming of age. It was your only key to surviving in this world without being thrown on to the streets to fend for self after Hogwarts.

This was exactly the reason were now siting in class, two rows down two tables down form matteo, frantically eyeing him and places where he could have placed the pendent.

Logically, it would be stupid of him to have it now, and your theory was correct when you eyes revealed no traces of ancient magic around him.

With a quiet groan, you sighed , placing your head on your palms.

You could see the traces of that pendent if it was near, but the fact that it was absent from the populated areas in school could only mean one thing.

It was probably located in the dungeons of Slytherin.

Suddenly, the chair next to you creaked, catching your attention. Ripple sat down with a stoic face, making your fists clench in disbelief.

"Why are you sitting here?" you demanded, your voice tinged with annoyance.

Ripple scoffed as he arranged his books, barely glancing at you. "As if I want to be here. Look around, Cromwell. All the other seats are taken."

You let out a dry laugh, eyes narrowing. "Trouble in paradise? What happened, Riddle and his gang didnt want to take you in?"

You purposely spoke louder, drawing curious glances from nearby students. Ripple's jaw tightened as he glanced around, a flicker of panic crossing his features before he leaned closer, growling, "Shut your mouth, Cromwell."

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Or what, coward?" you shot back.

Ripple leaned in, his face inches from yours, his breath hot against your ear. "I don't know where you get off, thinking you can talk to me like that—"

"Oh, like Riddle? And everyone else in that little squad you’ve decided to cozy up to? Thought you'd be used to it by now."

"Riddle and his business with me are none of your bloody concern," he gritted out, his voice low and menacing. His proximity made your skin crawl, but you held your ground.

You leaned back slightly, a deep exhale escaping your lips "You're right. It isn't my business, not anymore. Matteo Riddle saw to that last week."

His mocking laugh grated on your nerves. "What? Surprised that the 'gang' I associate with actually has my back?"

You furrowed your brows, a stern look crossing your face "Trust me, you're doing a great disservice to your own house."

Ripple inhaled deeply, a twisted smile forming on his lips. "My own house couldn’t win me the Quidditch Cup if their lives depended on it," he said, his tone laced with scorn.

You furrowed your brows, anger bubbling up inside you. "First of all, what the hell do you mean by 'win it for you'?"

Ripple leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Unlike the Slytherins, they're a bunch of useless, inexperienced idiots who'd rather blow smoke up each other's asses than admit they suck."

You swore you saw red for a second. It was one thing to hear slander about your house from the slytherins, but it was another story to hear it from him.

"That's not true-"

"Matteo Riddle is the one making our wins possible," Ripple interuppted, his voice filled with a twisted admiration. "He's the one who actually gives a decent shit about about the team, allowing us to climb up the ranks. Him and his friends are the ones who are actively ensuring hufflepuff can win the quitch cup for once."

You stared at him, wide-eyed and incredulous.

"He's the only one I can count on," he finished.

The air between you two seemed to fall silent, the tension thick in the air. You searched for words, but none came to mind.

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping you. "No. Ripple tell me you did not just say that. If your going to be a loser, then leave the rest of us out of it. No wonder they see Hufflepuff as weak. You're singlehandedly tarnishing our reputation."

His nostrils flared as he sat upright, a venom in his tone "Me. Ha. You and the rest of the house are the real joke. Always twiddling your fucking thumbs, waiting—no, begging for someone else to take the glory while you delude yourselves into thinking you made any effort at all. It's pathetic."

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm despite the anger boiling inside you. "You know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe we’ve had our moments of complacency. But at least we have integrity. We don’t stoop to the level of selling out our own house for false glory".

"You think aligning with them makes you stronger? It just shows just how little faith you have in your own abilities and your team. And that, more than anything, is what’s truly pitiful."

Ripple's eyes flashed with anger, his voice rising in pitch. "You think you know everything, don’t you, Cromwell? Sitting there on your high horse, judging me. You have no idea what it’s like to be in my position, to watch our house lose year after year because everyone’s too proud or too scared to do what it takes to win. Riddle could be using me, but at least they’re doing something. At least I’m doing something. Better to be a pawn with a chance at victory than a useless piece standing on the sidelines"

"If you wanted to ride his dick then just say that" Your blurted out

Ripple's jaw slacked at your choice of words.

You swallowed hard, grappling with his words. Just because Hufflepuff hadn't clinched the Quidditch Cup didn't mean your house was a collection of failures. It meant there was a need for a strategic overhaul, more dedicated effort, and smarter plays. Besides, you could have at least sympathized with him had he made the effort to back up his bark.

In the end, he just wanted the easy way out.

Before he had a chance to say anything Professor McGonagall swept in, her stern expression casting a hush over the students. She cleared her throat, commanding attention with her authoritative presence.

"Today, we will be having Presentation Day," she announced. "Each of you will come up to the front and present your findings on the transfiguration objects you've been working on. This is your opportunity to showcase your understanding and application of transfiguration principles."

Ripple turned his attention to front, smoke practically fuming out his ears.

But you couldn't care less, normally you wouldn't talk to anyone this way, but damn it he was insufferable.

As the class dragged on, each student delivering their uninspiring presentations with monotony, your eyes repeatedly flickered toward Matteo. He lounged in his chair looking indifferent which only served to irriate you.

A part of you agreed with Ripple. Hufflepuff certainly weren't aggressive. They were more forgiving then the rest of the houses , often letting bygones be bygones. But you realized that leniency was being taken advantaged, especially by Riddle.

And you were just letting it all happen.

Maybe..maybe enough was enough.

Ripple rearranged his papers now for the fifth time in a row, a silent panic in eyes, the argument you two just had long forgotten.

You almost scoffed. Perhaps lover boy here was just nervous to present in front Matteo and his gang.

Then your eyes drew to one of his pages, sticking out of the pile, where transfiguration history was written.

As your fingers quietly drummed against the wooden desk, a thought suddenly entered you mind. You slowly sat up, your eyes darting to Matteo again as the gears turned in your head.

Maybe there was a way to kill two birds with one stone.

You subtly pointed your wand at Ripple's presentation papers, murmuring a charm under your breath. The pages shimmered subtly, and your eyes widened as the text began to shift and change.

With a nervous breath, you uttered another charm, this time your wand pointing at Ripple underneath the table. You weren't sure how effective this charm would be, but you hoped it would work well enough.

A few more minutes passed when McGonagall called out, "Mr. Ripple? You’re up."

Ripple nodded furiously, scrambling to gather his papers before quickly pacing to the front of the class.

You could tell he hated presenting and almost felt bad for him. Almost.

Everyone fell into a hush, all eyes forward, just waiting to get through this class. You on the other hand quietly sat back, silently glaring at him.

"Good afternoon, class. My paper will be on the transfiguration of chairs. As you know, the appearance or alteration of an inanimate object can be difficult based on many factors, including size, shape…" Ripple droned on, eyes glued to his six-page paper.

Everyone listened silently, albeit bored out of their minds as monotone voice filled the room.

"And so that concludes my first theory on the transfiguration of chairs," he said, shuffling to another paper. He took a deep breath and started again.

"Matteo Riddle."

The name hung in the air for a moment as people started to stir in their seats, wondering if they had heard him right.

You sat up, anticipating his next words.

"The loveliest, most handsome boy I’ve ever met," Ripple continued, his voice suddenly filled with an unexpected passion.

The class exchanged baffled glances, some looking shocked as Matteo’s head snapped up, his bored expression instantly replaced by one of bewilderment.

Ripple kept going, oblivious to the growing confusion around him. "His hair is like spun like curly gold, shining in the sunlight, framing his face perfectly. His eyes, oh, his eyes! They are like pools of liquid honey, reflecting the depths of his soul. I can get lost in them for hours."

Giggles began to spread through the classroom along with murmurs and surprised whispers.

Matteo furrowed bis brows, looking disturbed as Blaise and Theo looked at him completely taken aback.

"The way he walks, so confident and strong, makes my heart flutter. I adore the way he commands attention, the way his robes cling to his athletic frame. Every time he speaks, I am entranced by his voice, deep and smooth like velvet."

You snorted, clamping your mouth shut

By now, the classroom had erupted into barely contained laughter, students covering their mouths or burying their faces in their hands.

Matteo face darkened, a wave of anger washing over his expression.

"Ripple!" Blaise shouted, trying to snap him out of his trance.

Theo, on the other hand, leaned back in his chair with a snicker, quietly observing the spectacle.

However, Ripple pressed on, his voice growing more fervent. "And let's not forget his hands, so strong and capable. I dream of those hands holding me, guiding me. Even his scent, like a fresh spring breeze, drives me wild. Oh, how I long to be close to you, to bask in your presence, to be the one you turn to when you need comfort."

The classroom was in chaos, students laughing hysterically, some hooting and shouting, egging the boy on.

"When's the wedding, Riddle"!?

"Go on, tell us more!"

"Love is in the air!"

Others were speechless, staring wide eyed at the boy.

Even Professor McGonagall was shocked, staring at Ripple in bewilderment, her lips fumbling to say something, but no words came out. The normally composed professor looked utterly at a loss, her face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and fury,

You observed the havoc, a litle overwhelmed with the uproar, but your knew this was going to happen, even if you did feel a little sorry for Ripple momentarily.

After all you didn't forget his words and blatant disrespectful behavior he had towards you and your house.

If he wanted Hufflepuff to have a back bone then this is it. He's the one who asked for it.

Jaw clenched, against Matteo's expectations, his murderous gaze did nothing to stop Riddle as droned on about his muscular arms.

"Someone's got a boyfriend!"

All of a sudden you flinched as he abruptly stood up, his chair screeching against the floor. Without a second thought, Matteo grabbed the nearest book and flung it at Ripple, hitting him square in the face and causing his papers to scatter everywhere.

The laughter and chatter ceased instantly, the classroom falling into a tense silence. Ripple groaned, rubbing his face as the scattered papers floated down like feathers.

All eyes were now on Matteo, whose expression was a contrasting mix of calm fury. You gulped nervously now being hit the real consequence of your actions.

Professor McGonagall finally regained her composure, her voice cutting through the silence with sharp authority. “Mr. Riddle, that will be quite enough! And you, Mr. Ripple—” she faltered momentarily, struggling to find the right words, “—you will come to my office immediately to discuss this… this inappropriate display!”

Matteo didnt care about detention at this point. He was willing to bear with a thousand at this point, just about ready to storm up and beat the shit out of Ripple, when something stopped him.

Ripple's face was twisted in confusion, his eyes wide and panicked. The mortified expression that followed made Matteo pause. Ripple’s gaze darted across the room, finally settling on something behind Matteo.

Following his line of sight, Matteo turned his head when his eyes locked on you, staring at Ripple with a triumphant smirk. Then your eyes flickered to Matteo.

The realization hit him like a jolt.

The room's chatters and McGonagall's attempts to restore order seemed distant, muffled by the blood pounding in his ears. He didn't know you had it in you to do something like this. He didn't even expect it.

For you, it was done. You've sent the message, might as well drive the point home. In a moment of bravery, you stand up, slinging your bag over your shoulder and walk up to him, his eyes completely locked on you.

Without missing a beat, you say "Why don't you go and console your boyfriend, he looks like he's about cry."

Theo huffed a laugh as Blaise pursed his lips trying not to show a reaction.

Matteo eyes, now void of any fury darted between yours in silence, almost studying you for a moment.

"It was just a kiss Cromwell".

You blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. “Excuse me?”

Matteo’s lips curved into a sly grin, his eyes glinting with mischief. “If I knew you were going to be so anal about it I wouldn't have done it. My sincerest apologies"

A cold flush of humiliation and anger swept over you, washing away any hint of composure. The kiss, and the loss of your pendant, hit you like a jolt of icy water.

“I hope this little stunt of yours is worth the trouble that's coming,” Matteo said, his tone now tinged with a darker edge.

“Give me back my pendant, Matteo.”

Blaise and Theo exchanged surprised glances, noting the stark shift in your demeanor from your usual calm to something far more intense.

Matteo’s smirk deepened. “How about no?”

You leaned in as Matteo looked down, "Understand this, I've got nothing to lose. Hold onto that pendant, and I’ll tear through your world piece by piece to get it back."

A flicker of something akin to approval crossed Matteo’s face. He leaned down, his eyes now level with yours

“Good. I am counting on it.”

[gretavanbrie]

Dreadful Reminders // part two (J.T.K.)

Summary: The brewing tension in your relationship seems to be pulling your love at the seams. What will happen when what is supposed to be happy news, only tears you apart further. Is one mindless phone call the end of it all?

Pairings: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Warnings: angst (like.. hella angst), soft smut (MINORS DNI!!!), heartbreak, crying, feelings of anger, isolation, mentions of alcohol consumption, swearing, sad!Jake, excessive apologies, talks of pregnancy, arguing, soft!Jake, flashbacks that might pull at your heart strings just a smidge, heavy dialogue towards the end, oral f!receiving, light impact play like once if you really squint, nipple play, softdom!Jake, terrible singing (I feel like that deserves a warning lmao), if I missed anything please lmk!!

A/N: This is Part 2!! She is longgg and lengthy so buckle up! If you have not yet read the first part I highly recommend you do so. I want to thank those who read the first part I hope the second does the first some justice, this chapter has a lot more dialogue and context between Jake and y/n. All flashbacks are italicized!!! I do not have a tag list yet so I apologize. I also want to give an honorable mention to my best friend who helped co-write the smut. Without further ado, enjoy!!

Part 1

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After the feud you questioned the half decade spent with Jake. Had you done something to push him away? You had a bad habit of blaming yourself for things that were never in your control, but how could he? The situation left you with nothing but guilt and questioning. How were you meant to go through this pregnancy on your own? Desperately craving guidance and clarity.

The minute the door closed behind you, you couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling of guilt wash over your body. You drug your feet down the paved road to your car slugging your bag along. You felt pathetic for silently wishing he’d come chasing after you, to feel wanted for the first time in what felt like forever. But he never did, he never came running out.

The hole in your chest now a pathetic excuse for a heart.

You opened your car door throwing your bag in the back. You let out a long sigh, throat tight on the brink of tears.. yet again. Resting your head on the steering wheel you replay the events of tonight. You felt silly for being so dramatic, I mean packing up and leaving? Because your feelings were hurt? A part of you knew not to be too hard on yourself, your emotions were at an all time high. That didn’t help the tiny daggers Jakes words metaphorically threw at you.

The question aching in your chest the most is, how are you meant to go through these next 9 months without him. You felt so alone. Where were you even meant to go in the mean time? I mean at least until you could collect yourself and contact someone. You thought back to all of the happy times with Jake. A memory in particular tugging at your heart strings, you put your car in reverse knowing exactly where you were going. The long drive seemed to have cleared your mind enough to put an end to the incessant crying.

Is it better to hurt than to feel nothing at all?

You questioned yourself as you pulled into the long dirt road leading to the old wooden cabin the boys have used for years. Putting your car in park you silently curse yourself for wanting to be away from Jake but ending up in the one place that is littered with remnants of him. The universe had a funny way of mocking you, the irony of it all almost humorous.

Stepping inside you took in everything around you. The old rugs scattered across the floor, some equipment still left behind. You ran your fingers across the mic stand recalling your fondest memory in this place. The memory that lead you here. Longing for a sliver of comfort, even if you had to milk it out of an old memory.

Feeling the lump in your throat return once again you peeled your hands off and made your way to the bedroom you’ve become unmistakably familiar with. You settled into the bed you and him used to share fighting back the tears not bothering to change out of jakes ratty old sweatshirt.

Sleep clouded your mind accompanied by a singular thought relentlessly repeating as you finally allowed your body rest.

What have I done wrong?

—————————————————

Jake awoke to the front door slamming shut, the incessant pounding of his head and foot steps approaching. Peeling his top half off the floor, his eyes squint from the harshness of the light seeping in through the windows.

“Close the blinds.” He says rather harshly, sensing its his twin.

“Well good morning to you as well, dear brother. You look awful” he says with an insufferable smirk. Jake shoots him a sarcastic smile, not in the mood for his antics.

‘You reek of booze man, what the fuck is wrong with you.. where’s y/n?”. Jake stays quiet for a moment as memories from the previous night flood his brain. His chest now tight, fighting back tears as he realizes what he thought was a nightmare is in fact real.

“She’s gone.” Is all he mutters before he stands up. Just as quickly as he got up, he sunk back down. Josh grabbing ahold of his brothers arm right in the nick of time.

“How much did you drink Jake?” Josh asks rhetorically, prying the whiskey bottle from Jakes hands.

“Whatever happened is a conversation for another time, get your shit together or we’re gonna be late. You knew we had an interview, im not letting you embarrass us.” He says sternly pointing a finger in his brothers direction.

Jake stumbles to your guy’s room not bearing the sight of some of your belongings still scattered about the space. He rakes his fingers through his hair as he breathes out a heavy sigh fighting back the new set of tears. One managed to escaped and cascaded down his face. A dreadful reminder of your absence.

Taking a quick 5 minute shower in hopes of somehow washing off his guilt. Noticeably failing at doing so, the ache in his chest only grew stronger. Splashing the water on his face to wake himself up before stepping out. Glancing towards your toothbrush as he went to grab his, he heaves a shaky breath. The best word to describe how he felt was sorrowful. He couldn’t even be mad at himself, he knows he’d have his bags packed and out the door as well had he heard the unforgivable words spoken from him.

He can’t even pin the reason behind his actions either. Conjuring excuses and dismissing them immediately, knowing this is irreversible. He finished brushing his teeth throwing on his over-worn jeans, a button up and his tattered boots. Reaching for his cologne his breath hitched in his throat. The memory of when he first started wearing it flashing before his eyes.

-

“I love this scent on you honey” you whispered peering up at him through your eyelashes, your soft breaths surely tickling his neck. The sun shining perfectly on your face.

‘god what a woman, a temptress of the earth.’ He thinks to himself.

Jake stuck a little flower he’s been holding onto in your hair as you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest shining him your brightest smile. You both giggled as the wind blew your hair wistfully across your face.

“I’d wear it for you so long as I’m alive, my dear” he says cupping your face, cherishing the sweetness of your soft lips.

-

The memory now plaguing his mind, taunting him of what he so selfishly sabotaged.

“Get yourself the fuck together dude” he whispered before picking up the bottle and spraying himself. He trudged out of the bedroom.

“Let’s go Josh.” He says quickly before making his way out the door.

—————————————————

The drive to the radio station was thankfully short, ever since you left jake has hated silence. His thoughts being far too loud in the stillness of the once lively four walls. The boys were headed back to their respective homes. Jake in disassociation, quickly snapped out by daniel’s words.

“What was up with you today man? Talk about a man of few words” he jokes trying to make light of the awkward tension during the interview, painfully unaware of the distress Jake was in. Poor Danny was just trying to lighten the mood, Jake however didn’t care for it.

“I suppose I’ve got my own shit to worry about, you should try it sometime.” Jake mutters, leaving Danny dumbfounded. Guilt immediately creeping it’s way through his brain. He already lost you, the last thing Jake wants is bad blood with someone else.

“I’m sorry man that was harsh, I just have a lot on my mind. I also might’ve had one too many drinks last night… i think i let them catch up to me” he gives a small chuckle in hopes of alleviating the tension. Sam and Danny joke back. His twin’s eyes shooting daggers his direction, believing none of it.

Back at the cabin you finally stirred awake, nauseous for the second morning. Realizing you’re not at home, thoughts of last night hit you like a semi. You curl back up in the sheets wishing for this to be some sick, sick dream. Sure, some may write you off as dramatic but you’re so young, only a few years younger than Jake and you feel as though he forgets this is just as scary for you as it is him. When you dreamt of having a baby you pictured Jake by your side, in it for the long haul.

You tried fighting the unceasing waves of nausea as you rummaged for something to eat in the kitchen. Settling on some toast and lemon honey tea, you made a mental note to head to the shops in hopes of getting your mind off things.

You opened the French doors that led to the beautiful backyard deck and the land that stretched for miles and miles just enjoying the serenity of it all. Sipping your tea you ponder for a moment. You decide you’ve allowed yourself enough time to feel sorry for yourself. Now all that is left is making the best of the situation. You are a strong resilient soul, you need to energetically be the best you can be for you and this beautiful soon-to-be life the two of you have created. You decided to head into town today to pick up some baby and parenthood books, maybe an incredibly early start but it seems like you’ll be spending a lot of time here anyway.

You take a shower to wash yesterday off you, preparing for this new start. Putting on light makeup and combing through your locks you dress yourself in a white sundress you thrifted long ago slipping on some shoes and heading out.

You stop at a farmers market and recall the first summer you and Jake spent alone at the cabin, he had a break from tour and he made it a point to come and spend some one-on-one time.

He went and bought you a singular wildflower from every vender he could find until eventually you had a custom-made bouquet. Stopping and picking out fruits and cheeses together to later be shared in the garden that evening. Picking up cheap bottles of wine to share while the two of you slow danced in the back yard. He got a new cologne that day as well. A moment so tender shared between the two of you, cherished in your heart forever.

Not wanting to stay long you waltz around the closest towns local library flipping through every parenthood and childcare book you could find. Collecting a few to take home, you pay and head back.

As you were washing and cutting the fruits, ‘Til There Was You’ started playing on the old Beatles vinyl in the background. You smiled remembering the song fondly, one of jakes favorites. Little did you know it was only his favorite because of the drunken show you put on for him one night singing along terribly to the song as your friends talked and laughed around you guys. Your cheeks pink and flushed either from the liquor in your system, or embarrassment. Jake didn’t seem to care, you looked beautiful as ever to him in that moment.

You leave the record playing as you curl up in a blanket on the couch diving into one of the many books you bought today. A sliver of peace filling your body, things are starting to look up.

A few hours pass and you finally decide to plug in your phone not having bothered with it since the argument. The screen illuminates indicating battery life, you see no calls from Jake and one missed call from josh. Hurt strikes through your chest as you realize maybe he didn’t want you around after all. You hesitate before calling Josh back, a glimmer of hope in your heart.

It only took a couple rings for Josh to pick up and his voice booms through your ear.

“Y/n!! Finally you answer! Where have you been?! You never disappear this long, you and Jake are practically inseparable!” He exclaims. You grimace as you think back to the things Jake told him.

“I mean this respectfully Josh, but cut the shit. I heard everything he said to you last night on the phone. Since I’m so bothersome in my own home, I’ve taken some time away from everybody.” You say

“A-and please Josh…. Don’t tell anyone about the baby yet, i wanna get through this by myself first.” You plead, voice dripping with nervousness.

You hear the other end of the line fall silent for a moment before a heavy sigh escapes his mouth, him now getting a clue as to why he found a sweaty drunken Jake lying on the kitchen floor next to unpacked groceries. He begins to speak.

“Listen I’m sorry about my brother, I told him he needs to get his head out of his ass. There are many ways you guys can make this work but he’s stubborn. I’m confused where this is stemming from because this is all he’s ever wanted with you, I don’t know why he’s running from it now.” You can hear things being moved around and voices yelling in the back.

“Listen i have some people over right now i have to go but can you at least tell me where you are so i know you’re safe?” His voice coated in concern.

“The first summer we said i love you josh, I’m at the cabin.”

————————————————————-

Later that evening Jake finds himself at his desk sifting through old film pictures you guys took together, the two of you preferring physical proof of the intimate moments rather than digital. That isn’t to say you didn’t have any, these were just far more special to the two of you.

Jake has never felt a love like yours and he senselessly tossed it all out of the window. He knew he wanted a family with you, he just got scared of the responsibility of juggling the band and a family life. He opened a drawer full of all the wilted flowers, saved letters and notes, movies and concert tickets, hundreds of tiny nick nacks the two of you have collected over time. His eyes fall upon an old polaroid from the lake house, your cheeks sunburned, your hair kissed by the sun as you had your lips gently placed on jakes cheek. His smile shining brighter than ever, a slight pink tinge to the apples of his cheeks.

You two had just started dating. He invited you out to see his writing process, eager to have you mesh with the one thing he loves most. Jake had no idea you’d be a contiguous second. You two had spent all day in the sun reading together as the rest of the boys swam about the river. Jake caught a glimpse of his future with you, Both of you old, sat in your backyard watching your children, and eventually grandchildren, play about the land. He peered over to you and saw your rosy cheeks and nose buried in a book with ur legs up to ur chest in the lawn chair. You looked like you were exactly where you belonged. Next to him enjoying the comfortable silence. His favorite summer with you.

-

You peeled your eyes from the fascinating story nestled in your hands only to be met with your lovers, already drinking you in. you see the long-haired boy shoot you warm smile knowing he’s been caught.

“Whatcha looking at, rockstar” you smirk. Jake felt his heart flutter, your voice smooth like tupelo honey. Never has a woman had him in this much of a chokehold.

“Oh nothing… just my beautiful, beautiful girl” he says standing up from his seat beside you. He made his way to you resting his arms on each side of the chair essentially trapping you in. His torso bent over you as you look up at Jake the sun eclipsed by his head creating a beautiful halo glow around him. His skin sheen with the glistening sweat from the hot summer air. His hair tussled around from the lake water. You’ve never looked at him with so much adoration and love, and Jake could spot it from miles away. His heart began pumping faster and faster. You guys hadn’t even been together a year yet, was it too soon?

He finally speaks up “I was just admiring how natural this feels, here, with you. Wouldn’t trade it for the world…” He whispers trailing off as his eyes dart across your face, admiring the way the sun shone just right. His hands cupping your face like a missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. Everything felt so right.

“..I love you.” he continued on, entranced by your loving gaze.

It wasn’t a grand gesture, not that you were one for those anyway. It was intimate, a moment shared between you two, and you two only. It wasn’t forced, it wasn’t used for show. It was real and it was natural. You’re immensely thankful Jake was emotionally secure enough to be so open and vulnerable with you.

A small smile tugged at your lips as your already sunburnt cheeks flushed to an even more crimson shade. Jake swore he felt his knees buckle. Though you hadn’t replied just yet, Jake knew. The love in your eyes sold it. His body still leaning over your own sat in the lawn chair, you pull him down a bit further by his necklace placing a gentle kiss to his soft lips.

“I love you more, my Jake.” you whisper as you pull away.

-

Jake replays the memory in his head. It’s been you all along. He was so blinded by his own bad habits, he shut you out. The one thing in his 27 years of life aside from his music that actually made him feel something. You were his wildest most cherished dream, left wilting from his own venom laced words. Slamming the drawer shut, Jake wasted no time grabbing his keys making his way to the car. No plan in mind.

His only purpose being to get his woman back, to make things right.

Picking his phone up he frantically dials Josh.

“Josh? Josh? hello?” Jake spews into the phone hearing josh pick up.

“What’s up?” Josh answers.

“I need you to tell me where y/n is at. I know you’ve kept in contact, she tells you everything. I don’t care what you say. I need her back. She’s the one josh i-i- i can’t lose her.” The long haired boy proclaimed choking back sobs. Josh had never heard his brother in such distress.

“Even if i make a fool of myself i need to show her I’m hers indefinitely. Ive made no efforts in proving that to her and especially now that she’s carrying my baby I can’t let that slip out of reach. Please Joshua… i need this.” He breathes. Josh is silent contemplating if he should say something. Hearing the anguish in his little brothers voice, he can’t bear to keep it from him any longer.

“Look i won’t say too much. Just think of your favorite summer, it’s evidently hers as well. I gotta go, ill talk to u later”

“Thank you thank you thank y-“ Jake is cut off by josh ending the call. He wastes no time rushing to you. Mentally preparing for this long drive ahead of him.

———————————————————————————

You sat on the living room floor mindlessly flipping through old magazines that were once neatly tucked in a corner, boredom obviously taking its course. The phone call with josh long forgotten about, since then you’ve changed into jakes old band tee you found in one of the drawers here. You hear tires on the dirt road and headlights making its way towards the house. Frightened, you pick up a kitchen knife clutching your bra less chest. You hold your breath as a car door slams and footsteps approach.

A soft knock on the cabin door and you feel the hairs on your arms raise. You peek your eye in the peep hole, after seeing who was behind the door you would’ve much rather it have been a murderer. Seeing those smooth caramel eyes you’ve missed so much only pains you, and reminds you of the hurt he caused. Every harsh word now on repeat. You sigh setting the knife down and pulling the door open.

“Hello” You greet, voice small.

‘You sound pathetic’ you think to yourself

“Y/n please…. I know its so soon and you without a doubt deserve space but I can’t bear another second without. God i was so stupid, you’ve given me nothing but undeniable support and love and I’ve taken that for granted. I should’ve talked things ou-“

“jake…” you cut him off, the softness of your voice ringing in his ears like music from angels themselves. He’s been craving the sound of your voice.

“Please just come inside and we’ll talk you haven’t even stepped foot in the door” you continue

“So.. you’ll hear me out? We can fix this right?” His eager eyes bouncing back and forth between your own, searching for some sort of non-verbal answer.

“I never said that Jacob…” you trail off allowing him to step inside.

“Can i grab you anything to drink?” You offer, Jake mesmerized by your hospitality even in the midst of a broken heart. He didn’t think he could be more enamored by you, but alas.

“I’m not some random guest y/n, i want to prove to you how sorry i am. Please..” he whispers inching closer to you. You look down a sigh escaping past your lips. You look back up at him, he sees the hurt flash in your eyes as you recall the phone call.

“Why did you say those things?” Keeping steady eye contact. It was now your turn to look for the answers in his irises.

“I don’t know honey, I don’t know.. the only logical explanation i can give you is i was scared. But that’s no excuse and i’m fully aware. Things had already been so bad between us it was eating me alive. I thought if I wasn’t even able to care and provide for you how I should’ve the last 2 months, how was i meant to provide for an entirely new human? I realized i was treating you in a way i never thought I would in a million years. I promised myself to cherish a love like yours should i ever have the privilege of being graced by your love and affection and i was blind. So fucking blind. Kids haven’t always been my thing baby you know that and i want nothing more than to have this with you now and to have a family to call our own. I’ve come to my senses. I don’t know what washed over me i let my fear get the best of me. I usually know what to say but there’s no words in the English language to describe the sorrow i feel. I’m so fucking sorry y/n.” He finishes blinking away the brewing tears. You sit almost mute if it weren’t for your shaky breathing.

“Please.. say something, anything” he pleads, a tear rolling down his cheek.

“Jake i wanna forgive you I’m just hurt, 5 years and not once have i been treated like this by you. I thought, you know, telling you the news would alleviate the tension between us. I was hoping you’d somehow realize it was all silly, and the fighting wasn’t like us. Instead you pushed me away further. Am i so terrible Jacob?” You ask dropping your gaze to your feet.

“No my love, i was just being foolish and immature. I let emotions cloud logic, I spoke what felt right at the time being and it was the worst mistake of my life. If i could take it all back i would, you have no fucking idea the lengths i’d go to undo my actions.” He says taking your face in his hand. Closing your eyes, you nestle your cheek into the warmth of his calloused palm.

Oh, how you’ve missed this. You quickly snap out of it before continuing on.

“where were you that morning, Jake? josh called asking for you but you said you were with the boys.” you say peeling your cheek away from his hand. Chest rising and falling with anticipation.

“I was with them for the first part of the morning my love, i was. But i did slip out the minute it was over instead of hanging around how they always do. I went to grab some breakfast to try and untangle the mess that was my brain at the time. I saw a dad alone with his two daughters, i think the mom might’ve been busy but the dad looked so worn out. Completely defeated, and it scared me. It’s still no excuse for the way i treated you prior to the news. I was taking my workload home with me and i pinned faults on you to try and alleviate some of the tension. I’m so sorry baby, you don’t deserve it at all. You were nothing but patient with me a- and-“ his voice cracks his head now hung in shame as his throat tightens up, tears slipping past the ducts.

“-and i failed you y/n. I ran home and called josh to try and gain some sensibility. I voiced the intrusive thoughts that were in no way the truth. I think i just let everything get to my head and i went into this existential questioning mode. I’ll regret it eternally.” he continues, lips now parted flicking his eyes between your own.

“My Jake, I’m not upset at you being scared. This is terrifying. We’re so young i don’t expect you to have this figured out. You’re doing so well with your music. I feel terrible, you have no idea. But i’m just as scared as you are. This is supposed to be a help me help you. No matter how terrifying, this was painstakingly meant for us. This was in store for us whether we like it or not and i honestly couldn’t be more grateful, Jake. I know we can make this work. If there’s anyone in the world I’d want this with its you, I need to you to be emotionally present…please jake” you say hopeful.

“I know we can honey, and I will. You won’t ever have to worry about anything. You can quit your job, I’ll provide for the three of us, you won’t have to lift a finger anymore. You can come with us on tour and i’ll be by your side every step of the way. I will make sure the traveling is as comfortable as can be for my pregnant little lady” he says pulling you in closer by the hand.

“I’m gonna need time Jake, i can’t just ask that of you. And to be frank, your words hurt. Everything is so fresh we can’t just move past it in one day. You didn’t even call me or anything Jake, radio silence. I understand if that was the space you needed but not even to check if I’m okay?” You choke.

“I know my love, I’m incredibly disappointed with myself you have no idea. I should’ve called. I just knew if I were in your shoes I wouldn’t have wanted to be around me either. I figured the least I could do was give you the space you needed. You don’t know how desperately I wanted to call you and text you and run out there, but that would’ve been selfish of me. To say hurtful things and beg you to stay? I deserved you’re absence. I should’ve reached out. I’m so fucking sorry. I have no clue what got to me it was all nonsense, I was being incredibly immature”

“It’s just disappointing, what did I do wrong Jake?” You whisper your eyes flicking between his plump lips and his caring eyes.

“Nothing baby, you did absolutely nothing wrong. I was being an asshole. You don’t deserve that in the slightest. Let me show you how sorry i am baby, let me take care of you” he whispers lips connecting with your pulse point, the light suction sending chills down your spine.

“I’m sorry, my love. I’m so sorry” gently whispering fighting the crack in his voice, punctuating each apology with a kiss to ur soft skin.

“Jake please not right no-“ you’re cut off by his lips crashing onto yours. Your lips move together like it was the first time you’d ever shared a kiss, eager and love drunk.

“let me make things right.” He whispers resting his forehead on your own.

“You’re all I’ve ever needed” moving to place a kiss behind your ear.

“Jake please” you breathe.

“I’m sorry” he repeats again but only gripping the larger fitting t-shirt of his clung around your body.

His lips meet yours again as he slowly backs you into the counter. Kneeling down in front of you, feeling your hands trace over the top of his head strumming through his long hair. Jake begins pulling at the hem of the shirt the smell of vanilla permeating his nose. The kiss ceases as you realize where this is going.

“Jake we can’t do this, we have to-“ your frantic words seem to go dormant as your shirt is quickly discarded. He strokes the back of your legs and ass pulling your lower half further into him, staring at each other with your lust-filled eyes.

“I just need to taste you, show you how much I need you.” He plants a kiss to your abdomen, finger hooking the thin fabric uncovering the sweet pool of honey.

“Is this okay baby?” he hums against your skin.

You let out a whimper, his lips quirk up in a smile knowing you wanted this just as bad.

The underwear falls as he guides your legs upward to help you step out of them, kicking it to the side using the counter to support your weight. Letting your right leg sit comfortably on his shoulder as he circles your clit with his thumb. Looking deep into your eyes and watching you cave under his touch is more than he can handle, your his greatest strength and undeniable weakness.

Wasting no time, his tongue hungrily glides through your folds, jake completely enamored by the sweetness of your aching cunt. God how you missed him. He’s desperate at this point, the impression of his fingers on your skin, the way your chest drops with every exhale, the tug of your bottom lip between your teeth as your head drops back. The way you fuck back into his face as though this insatiable hunger for one another isn’t one sided.

He pulls back emitting a whimper from you. He quickly but gently bends you over the counter. Admiring the heart shape your ass resembles, he gives a light smack. A smile dances across his lips at the absolute bliss upon your once tear-stained face. He sprinkles light kisses over the small of your back before running his hand back over your soaking wet slit.

“Spread your legs beautiful, I need to see all of you” to which you gracefully oblige.

“Atta girl” he smirks. You swear you could climax from his words alone.

He licked one long stripe starting from your taint stopping just shy of your clit before sucking slightly, his tongue then running up and down the small crevice, your arousal being lapped as though this were his last meal.

“Jesus Christ Jake…….so good” you whimper, your breathy moans like the soft song of a siren, reeling him in stronger than ever before.

“all I ever want is to make you feel good honey, I’m all yours” he says before continuing one of his favorite acts of service. He snakes a hand up to your breasts giving one a light squeeze. He slowly pinched and rolls your sensitive nipple in between his pointer and thumb eliciting a pornographic moan from you.

“You’re all mine” he says, ravenously burying his face into your dripping cunt.

You arch your back lifting your ass giving him more access to what seemed to be his own personal form of heroin, an insatiable hunger only you could satisfy. You’re close, and he knows it too. Keeping the tempo he begins to bring both knees to the hardwood kitchen floor in attempts to give you the chance to slightly sit on his face.

He drops his hold on your breasts using the same hand to circle your clit continuing his assault. The newfound feeling of synchronization between his tongue and finger becoming too much to handle.

“My god Jake, I’m so close” you groan pulling his hair for leverage. You start grinding into his mouth before allowing yourself to fully submit to the feeling.

“ I’m cum-“ you squeak out before the rush of your orgasm cuts you off.

Jake starts massaging your side as physical praise. The nectar drips from your cunt into his mouth, Jake hums in approval at your arousal. You ride out your high on his face. You look back at him with lust and admiration. He pulls back and turns you around grasping your thighs as he begins to clean you with his mouth. Repeated kisses on your legs and stomach. The maintained eye contact, trying to burn this moment into his brain. You look down at him pushing the single strand of hair out of his now glistening face. He stares up at you.

“You look so pretty when you come on my face you know?” He smirks.

You roll your eyes and smile. Searching for the now discarded t-shirt. Jake stands up collecting himself. He pulls you in by the arm before you can get dressed.

“I love you immensely y/n, i will spend every waking day of my life proving that to our little family” he says placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I was so stupid my love, I had everything I’ve ever dreamed of and I took advantage. I’m not asking you to forgive me right away but just know I will fight for you until my deathbed” he continued, pulling you into his embrace.

“Please just communicate your thoughts with me Jake, we’ve been in this so long. This needs to be a help me help you. No matter how irrational you think the issue may be. I love you far too much to be apart from you” You say staring into his eyes. He places a hand over his heart before solemnly swearing to do so.

The two of you make your way into the old bedroom, his eyes sadden at your clothes spilling out of the duffel bag in the corner. It may have only been 24 hours apart but it shouldn’t even have come to that. His heart clenched at the thought of you feeling like you had to resort to isolation. Although, he knows he would’ve done the same had he been in your shoes. He grabs your hand pulling you into his chest, fingers scratching at your scalp. The way he held you was enough to relive you of any hurt or ailment in your body. The intimacy and closeness you two lacked for so long finally shining through like a streak of sunlight in a window after a terrible storm. You feel the shakiness of his breath before he begins to speak.

“I know I’ve said it many times before my love, but I truly am sorry. You shouldn’t have been alone. God, how scared you must’ve been.” He breathes looking up as if to hold back the tears fighting to escape.

“Thinking of you falling asleep by yourself last night is agonizing. I should’ve been there for you.” He whispers.

“What happened, happened Jakey. Let’s not dwell on what we can no longer change. Please… I don’t wanna think about it any longer. I want to focus on moving forward. I want to be the best version of me for our child” you say pulling away, both of you looking down to your abdomen with sad smiles.

“Did you come here because it was the first time we said i love you to eachother?” He blurts, eyes darting between your own. Scared of what you might say.

“Maybe..” you flush, shying your face away. A smile lights up his face.

“The moment was just so perfect, Jake. So intimate. Something special just for us, no interruptions. We were so happy, young, and in love. After we said it we got so drunk Jakey, you serenaded me with that mic all night. Any song I spoke of you strummed that guitar immediately. I knew i wanted you forever, right then and there.” You giggled

“I was quite the serenader, wasn’t i?” he jokes. Pulling you in by your waist he looks up smiling as he recalls the memory.

“I will play as many songs if it means I can see your pretty smile” he says leaning down giving you a peck on the lips. You two just held each other for a moment before deciding a shower was your best bet after your little reconciliation.

The shower was nothing short of intimate. Soft touches, hands raking through each others hair as the shampoo lathers. Just basking in each others presence. The two of you sat in silence, not a word uttered. You guys seemed to have an unspoken mutual agreement that you needed to make up for lost time in touches. It had been so long since Jake had been so attentive and gentle with you. You finally felt the love you two once had circle its way back. He stayed behind you washing the conditioner from your hair.

“I love you baby” Jake states, breaking the silence. He reaches around, kissing you softly.

“You’re divine, my woman. I can’t get enough of you, I’m sorry again baby.” He says pecking your shoulder. You hum in adoration letting your head rest back on his shoulder as he lathers your body.

You two wrap up the shower after having taken the time to allow yourselves to attentively care for one another again.

You sit naked on the bed with a towel in your hair, book in hand, neither of you bothering to change. Just eager to finally be in each others presence again. Jake is walking around the room, collecting your scattered clothes and packing them up.

“My Jake, just come lay down” you whine wanting nothing but to lay in bed together, to feel a long awaited sense of normalcy between the two of you. You close your book and set it beside you as you watch him circle the room.

“Soon my lady, one more thing” he says, a smirk worn proudly like he was scheming something. He waltzed into the closet finding his old straw hat. He rests it atop his head picking up his old acoustic. Still unclothed , the instrument acting as a garment for his lower half. He strums the familiar tune to ‘Til There Was You’. Your smile beams as you recall the old Beatles song.

“Thought I’d put on a long awaited show on for my special lady and our little bean” He laughs unable to take himself seriously. You giggle as well before responding.

“Take it away, my love!” you encourage as he begins singing the song purposefully off key. Fingers strumming perfectly to the tune.

“No, i never sawrrrrrr them at alllllllllll” he exaggerates.

You two break out into fits of laughter as he rids himself of his guitar and hat diving into bed with you. The room falls silent as you guys lay, you remove your the towel from your hair getting comfortable under the covers. Jake silently admiring your glow, coming to the realization its been lost for so long. Ever since he grew distant, you didn’t shine the same, even hearing your laugh tonight struck something within him. He’s pained he’s the cause of your light dimming. He finally speaks up, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Thank you for giving me the chance to prove myself to you again. You deserve to shine baby.” He whispers into your neck

“Mhm, don’t make me regret it” you squint your eyes at him playfully. You both laugh before sighing in contentment.

“You know I saw the food laying on the counter, I wish i could take it all back. I’ll thank you endlessly.” He says nuzzling his head into your neck entangling your legs together as his torso rested atop yours. Enjoying the intimacy of laying unclad together, it’s been far too long.

“I just never want you to speak of me like that behind my back again, I felt so unwanted. I trust that you’ll communicate those thoughts to me directly from now on” you say playing with strands of his hair.

“We’re too old for that kind of stuff now, Jakey.” You continue on.

“I’ll never let anything come between us again, i will stop at nothing to ensure your happiness. And 9 months from now i shall do the same for the little one” he says drawing shapes on your stomach. A newfound appreciation for one another, a tighter metaphorical knot now formed between the both of you. You two were made for each other and you know your baby will be so loved. Now its just one step at a time. You wouldn’t trade him for the world, he lays there completely and irrevocably enthralled by your love.

Fin.

[nordickies]

Your takes on the various relationships between the Nordics are so good that I can’t help but asking you about Denmark and Sweden! Do you think they might have a relationship that gives them something they can’t get from anyone else? Can they be open with each other considering their long rivalry?

To me, they're "old men" with lots of life wisdom and experience on their back. But they're still the same rebellious rascals who don't know how to express their love for each other through words. While they're the traditional heads of the family, they seem to regress to their irresponsible teenage selves, who will wrestle and prank each other when put into the same room.

Needless to say, they have had quite the journey. Their different personalities, goals, and perspectives caused them quite a deep rift in the past, but they have never despised each other; their feud was just the only way to let out their frustrations about their circumstances. In their most vulnerable, emotional state, they felt hurt and betrayed by the other, leading to grudges. But they never wanted to bring their brother down. They only wanted the other to understand their pain and how unfair they felt about their situation. To make them feel even an ounce of the pain they have felt. But even with all the fighting, they had a deep unspoken trust and care for each other; they were just pissed that the other didn't see it.

Sweden has always had a strong will, and he needs to walk his own path on his own accord, or he'll get rowdy. He has always had the drive to make something great out of himself, and perhaps in his youth, this manifested as jealousy for Denmark. Den always seemed to be one step ahead. Perhaps it always felt like nothing escaped Den; he knew everyone's secrets, and you couldn't hide anything from him. And imagine how much that must have annoyed angsty teenage Sweden. He doesn't like to be told what to do, but the Dane always had an opinion on anything he did (and he still does). Sweden needed to learn to ignore it and not let it get under his skin, but he sometimes still struggles with it. Something about Denmark explicitly pointing out his flaws hurt more than anything else.

Meanwhile, Sweden's thick-headedness has always frustrated Denmark to no end. Swe can't accept help or consider he may be wrong at times; it's his black-and-white thinking on certain aspects. In his youth, Sweden did things the hard way - just so that he could oppose Denmark. Perhaps the Dane feels he needs to get Swe to loosen up. Denmark doesn't understand why Sweden can't just let him help. He doesn't understand why doing things on his own is so important to him. Denmark also finds Sweden rather dramatic; mistakes and oversights can make Swe blow things out of proportion and cause friction with his friends. To him, the Swede is just a younger brother who thinks too highly of himself and can be too self-centered at times, which he isn't afraid to point out.

Speaking of which, Denmark is really just a typical older brother. He will call Sweden names and embarrass him for a lifetime, push or forcefully hug him, hide and steal his things - constantly testing Sweden's patience to the limit. But it's only Den who can do this; he wouldn't tolerate anyone else outside the family annoying Sweden. However, Sweden isn't without his flaws either. He certainly likes to growl back at Denmark, but he manages to do it so discreetly that he never gets the blame. That's pretty much Swe's tactic: seek attention and sympathy points from others whenever Denmark is annoying him. He usually turns people against Denmark and blames him for everything, even when Den has had nothing to do with it. Who else would get the blame but the oldest sibling, anyway? Still, Sweden gets extremely defensive if someone pesters his brother and steps in if someone is seeking a fight with him, surprising everyone else

The brothers recognize they're acting childish and harsh, but they can't explain why they keep doing it. Maybe Denmark and Sweden don't nag or yell at others, so naturally, they do it with each other. But they can also be unapologetically themselves. Den and Swe don't care if they are annoying or bothersome to the other; more than anything, they deserve it! They have seen each other's worst sides and put up with it all, meaning nothing can shatter their bond anymore. And it's oddly comforting, in a way. They still test each other and quarrel about incidental things but find comfort in each other's company anyway. All the work they had to put into accepting each other and trying to understand the other's perspective has paid off. Deep down, they have immense respect for their brother. In their youth, they never really considered that their interests and goals were so surprisingly similar.

They both like slow living, as neither is as adventurous as Norway or as adrenaline-seeking as Finland. They want their slow mornings and take a moment to read the morning news. Take their deserved breaks at work and get home early to cozy up. Perhaps their ideal day is just sitting for coffee and watching the world go by. Spend a moment staring at construction projects downtown and pondering about them. They walk around the park and talk about the various projects they need to finish around the house, how the roof should be fixed and the grass should be mowed. At the same time, they do not shy away from brutal honesty and expressing their opinions about each other. In brotherly fashion, they play together, piss each other off, cheat during games, steal each others' food, seek sincere advice, scold each other, and make sacrifices when the other needs them.

I think they still struggle a bit with vulnerability, and when they have troubles, they both turn to Norway's advice out of old habits. It just feels easier opening up to him for some reason. Den and Swe have needed to learn and respect each other's differences and rebuild the trust they have lost so many times. It's just a matter of daring to open up and get out of their comfort zones, forcing themselves to understand the other's point of view.

They share a special kind of experienced wisdom none of the other Nordics have quite attained. Life took them on two different roads, but they found each other in the end. As much as they wanted to differentiate from each other in their youth, they were united by their similarities and kinship by the end. It just required a lot of maturing from both of them. Maybe uniting after their past grudges is the most significant accomplishment, and thus, their relationship nowadays means a lot to both of them (even if they won't admit it).

Other relationship breakdowns Norway/Denmark II Norway/Sweden

[karmarox]

Chaos and the Lamb

Or: My Leshy X Lamb / Shrubwool headcanons (Sorry to the Kallamar fans that ate up my wet beast character study for doing Leshy first but a reply made me inspired)

First off, as a preface for pretty much any Bishop x Lamb ship in general to be healthy the Lamb has to be one that has either worked through their revenge/moved past it, obviously. Generally speaking in my interpretations of canon the Lamb would have gotten any closure/Justice they were seeking in the first go around and then by the time of entering the post game and freeing the Bishops from their eternal punishment they would have found another purpose in the Cult/as a God. So, aside from any lingering feelings over seeing them again, in their eyes, they got their revenge, sentence, and both the Lamb and the Bishops all got a second chance after death. Anything else is no longer personal (although more benevolent Lambs probably does have feelings for what a dangerous, stagnant state the Bishops left the lands in).

Leshy in particular I think the Lamb would have an easier time forgiving/accepting due to a combination of Leshy being the youngest and weakest and arguably having the least involvement/responsibility in everything that happened as well as by virtue of being the youngest/weakest being the one who spent the longest in Purgatory. So already the Lamb is a bit kinder to them than the other Bishops.

Leshy was the god of Chaos, so despite everything he does have a bit of a "Letting Nature Takes Its Course" mentality. While initially bitter about the whole getting killed and letting his family down and being put through Purgatory only to discover everything that happened after he was gone, he ends up having a surprisingly similar mentality to the Lamb in that there's nothing really "personal" left to feud over in his second life. He's pretty much neutral to the Cult, but warms up a lot more once he finds out the Lamb is freeing his siblings too.

As for how they bond... well, being young gods forced into a role without much teaching gives them both a lot to talk about. Leshy is actually surprisingly really competent in pretty much any task given to him despite his blindness and chaotic luck and tendency to get distracted. The latter can generally be solved by just changing up the things he's given so things don't get too monotonous. Leshy ends up finding that he enjoys being given tasks he thinks are "easy" and being rewarded with lots of free time and praise. In return Leshy ends up helping the Lamb learn a whole lot more about nature. Also tries to encourage them to have more fun and recreation time. Totally on a whim (and maybe to see what kind of trouble/shenanigans the Lamb would come up with for "fun").

The Lamb is surprised at how competent Leshy is at pretty much any job or chore given to him. Farming, Cooking, Bartending, Logging. Basically as long as Leshy can keep his mind on the task he's one of the most efficient workers around. Discovering that Leshy is absolutely and totally weak to praise and positive reinforcement was an accident, but one that Lamb quickly learns from and totally begins exploiting.

Finding out that Leshy is also highly weak to physical contact was also an accident. Probably tried petting him as a joke like one of the Dog followers after a good job once they've gotten more friendly with each other. This got a bigger reaction out of the worm than the Lamb expected. So they ended up doing it more, and Leshy pretty much turned into a mushy bush in their hands... And then the Lamb also ends up realizing at the same time how starved for touch and physical affection they are.

It just progressed from there. Pretty much any time they talk to each other, at least a bit of touching will ensue. It grounds them both. A comforting presence despite everything. Petting, holding, brushing, a gentle touch amidst chaos. The Lamb feels relaxed in ways they forgot/never knew by being able to hold and lean on someone whenever they want and having that someone respond positively. Leshy highly enjoys feeling different parts of the Lamb (and also enjoys the Lamb's reactions and tries to imagine/remember what they look like).

They get pretty mushy even in public. It's fondness expressed not in words or kisses but in holding hands, caresses, touches, nuzzling even in the middle of conversation. Followers and onlookers are either jealous, d'awwing over how endearing it is, embarrassed over how much handholding is going on, or completely baffled if they're more familiar with the history.

As an aside: The Lamb's bell ends up becoming one of Leshy's favorite noises. It sounds nice, and nowadays means something good's probably going to happen to him in a moment. Mortality isn't so bad. He still wants to see if restoring his sight is still possible, though. He can get around without his eyes, but being able to see his loved ones again and remember what they look like would be nice...

[ronoholic]

unfair dare | draco m. 🪄x reader| (she/her)

"Could you write an angst fic with draco malfoy? where draco and his friends make a bet that draco has to conquer y/ n, in the end he succeeds and they become a couple, but draco begins to have feelings for her, then she finds out and ends up with him confronting him and draco feels so bad😕":

*a/n: I added some adjustments to the request bc I got a little confused 😅 and im back so I just rambled on with what my mind was giving me so hope you enjoy!! <3🙏🏽

“draco! draco!” his friend came

“What?” He grumbled out turning to now face Blaise

“you up for some fun?” any interest that draco had, dropped

“no, now get out” he turned to continue the work he was doing

"it involves (y/n)"

and what would i want with a skank like her?" he turned, with a look of disgust

" y'know the rumors arent true... you made them" Blaise was the only one who would notice Draco’s admiration for (y/n) but knows Draco would never admit, no he’d much rather “kill himself” in the words of the angry blonde.

"Still, ive got to hold my ground, cant go folding on my own stories" the blonde fully turned to face his friend, with a face of intrest and forgetting his work

"what about her though?"

"ask her out"

"what" he laughed out in disbelief

"ask her out, i saw the redhead talking to her"

"so?"

"she looked swooned, over the moon with him... I dare you to take her, make him mad" blaise knew you and ron were just friends, he also knew that draco didn’t know that.. and he’d do anything to spite weasley and he wanted his two friends together and to finally put aside their feud

"i dont have time to deal with weasley, blaise"

"guess someones insecure.." he hummed leaving the room.

"ill show him who’s “insecure” he mumbled in a mocking way lightly slamming his hands on the desk.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Blaise!” “Blaise!” Draco stormed after him

“what?” he asked rolling his eyes, his friend not wanting to join in on what he thought was fun

“ you’re on, after potions”

“ oh yeah?” he asked, a smirk creeping onto his face

“ and ill even drop in a hundred galleons”

“ohhoho you are most definitely on mate” they laughed sealing their deal with a hand shake.

the blond tried to think of all his strategy on how to land the girl his friend had just sprung on him, but anything he thought of ended up with her slapping, kicking or punching him, after all she was friends with those red heads; and everyone knows they how they play.

“ now welcome back to another day students, thankful to all those who still decide to come back after my well, rather boring lessons” the professor tried to joke

“ now my lovelies, we will be working in pairs.. we’ll be doing a three day long project and it will count for your final marks”

she started calling out pairs and draco tried his best to make it seemed like he wanted nothing to do with you, after all he knew the teacher would do the opposite, she hated him.

her eyes finally landed on draco and she started looking at every girl watching dracos reaction until it got to you, he stiffened up and widened his eyes making it look like he was disgusted, blaise smiling in the background had her make her final decision

“ draco, you will be working with…. (y/n)” she gave an innocent smile, and he heard an annoyed sigh quietly escape from her mouth.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

( y/n)! I cant believe it, out of all people, draco?!”

“ its not like I could choose myself hermione” you replied, now slightly annoyed, this was the fourth time she had brought it up

“I know but-"

“ do you wanna switch or something? you're more concerned about this than I am!” you whisper-yelled out in the library

“no, well , yeah no.. im just looking out for you, he still y’know, acts like the rumors are true.., are you okay?”

“ugh I know..” you sighed out, sitting back down rubbing youre temples

“ its nothing to bad, I can deal with him.. i think”

“ well, if you need help you know where to find me” she gave you a comforting smile while leaving.

A few months earlier

“i told you to leave me alone (y/n)!”

“what's wrong afraid of a little competition Draco?” a young (y/n) had teased the young blonde she found slightly cute

“ no, now I told you, leave me alone or I'll make your life terrible here!” he seethed out, pushing the girl he was intimidated of to the floor.

you still tried to continue the friendship you thought you still had with the blonde throughout the time at hogwarts, until one day you noticed people whispering and snickering whenever you’d walk up or walk away from draco.

“(y/n) .. is it true? you’re my best friend I want to hear it from you.” hermione knew something was up and she needed you to confirm whether it was true or not.

you slowly looked up still confused “is what true mione?”

“they’re saying you had a few to many to drink yesterday and well went to find draco begging , and well you tried getting onto him and when he turned you away you tried getting onto blaise, also begging... ”

“what?..” you felt your heart shatter.

you walked up to draco after class and pulled him into a corner to save him some dignity “

“you absolute scum!” you yelled out while smacking him

“how could you?, honestly draco!”

“c’mon (y/n) you didn’t think someone like you could be friends with someone like me, did you he let out a sarcastic chuckle

“well I mean yeah draco I did!, I mean honestly I guess growing up with someone since they were young means nothing right?!” you were fuming, tears starting to brim your eyes but you pushed them back

“growing up?” he laughed

“yeah! seriously draco whats gotten into since we’ve arrived here? whats changed?” your heart started to hurt

“(y/n) your dad works for mine, he’s a servant, hell! he’s the closest thing to a human house elf!”

he said with a straight face, angered, but for a small second hurt crossed his face but having to keep his new character he switched back and just as fast as his face changed, he left. and so did the friendship you thought you had. walking back to the common room as fast as you could, trying to hold in the tears that were brimming your eyes.. sadly failing at the challenge you didn’t think was so hard.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“thanks for checking up on me, this whole thing has had me a bit stressed” you finally admitted to hermione

“of course, now if you need anything, anything at all you know where to find me.. oh! and tonights password it “grapefruit”” she whispered out knowing the fat lady changes the secret word every night.

you walked back to your chair by the fire place and dove back into your books trying to figure out what potions were going to be the ones you were so secure on

“up so late?” a voice that freshly woken up, asked from behind

“yes … draco” you saw who it was after turning around “after all we do have a project to get to” you reminded him

“ yes of course we do..” “ listen go up and get some rest”

“no, nope-

“yes” he said softly while grabbing the books from you

“draco i said -

“yes but i said go, now go get some rest.. i’ll tell you the decided ones in the morning.”

you suspiciously got up, backing up and walking up the stairs

“late night? (y/n)"

“yes, guess you could say the same right blaise”

“i’ve been around a few common rooms” he winked

“i don’t know why they’re still all after you knowing they’re all being used..” you joked out

“they’re used to being used” he shrugged “ like draco said, go get some rest… and again i’m sorry, (y/n).”

blaise has always apologized for the things draco has done, knowing he’s hurt the girl whose absolutely nothing to him, he felt bad never standing up for her.

“its okay don’t worry” you assured with a sad smile, like always “good night, blaise”

“night!” he whisper-yelled while walking down to draco.

"that girl, im telling you shes the one"

"yeah you and my whole family tell me, now remember what we bet on is a bet and a bet only"

"yeah Draco.. its just a bet..."

blaise had been wanting to get you two together since you were young, he noticed how happy draco was when he was around you, you were his escape inside the manor, you were the one who could flip his mood entirely, he also knew that dracos family would never approve of you two together.

[starspray]

Power & Desire: The Silmarils vs The One Ring

Can also be read on the Silmarillion Writers’ Guild

Every so often I see discussions in fandom about the Silmarils and the One Ring that end up equating them—treating them as though they are direct parallels to one another. This always happens by way of bringing the Silmarils down to the level of the Ring, often treating characters’ refusal to surrender the one Beren and Lúthien retrieved as the result of the same kind of corrosive possessiveness that the Ring induces, which renders its bearer literally unable to give it up willingly or destroy it.* This reading is not just wrong, it undermines the agency of the characters involved and undercuts the tragedy of The Silmarillion. The Silmarils and the One Ring are made by very different characters for very different purposes. They also act in the narratives of their respective stories very differently.

What do the Silmarils and the Ring have in common? They are both the titular objects of their respective books around which the major plot turns, it is true. They are both made by powerful individuals, and are desired by many different people, and when they are lost and/or stolen their makers are desperate to retrieve them. Characters die for them, and kill for them. At this extremely surface level reading they do, indeed, seem very similar. But the deeper you look at each object the more glaring differences show themselves, until you realize that they do not parallel, but rather oppose each other.

Due to the nature of each narrative it’s much easier to see the full nature of the Ring and the effect it has on people around it. It is an object created explicitly for evil and malicious purposes: One Ring to rule them all, and in the darkness bind them. Sauron makes it so that he can ensnare all others who hold rings of power, “for he made that Ring himself, it is his, and he let a great part of his own former power pass into it, so that he could rule all the others. If he recovers it, then he will command them all again, wherever they be, even the Three…”

The way the Ring works is that it sneaks into the bearer’s mind and starts to twist their thoughts to its own purposes. It wants to be used, and it wants to isolate its bearer. It makes itself desirable so that its bearer will do all kinds of mental gymnastics to justify the means by which to take and keep it. See Gollum’s insistence on his “birthday present.” See Bilbo’s tale of winning it in the riddle game. At the Council of Elrond he says: “But I will now tell the true story, and if some here have heard me tell it otherwise”—he looked slidelong at Glóin—“I ask them to forget it and forgive me. I only wished to claim the treasure as my very own in those days, and to be rid of the name of thief that was put on me. But perhaps I understand things a little better now” (emphasis mine).

You can see it in Isildur, too. The films misrepresent this scene: Elrond says nothing of dragging Isildur up Mount Doom to try to get him to destroy the Ring; he says that “whether we would or no, he took it to treasure it” but at that time there is no way anyone present could know what kind of effect the Ring would have on someone other than Sauron, because Isildur is the first person after Sauron to hold it. But Elrond telling the story has the benefit of Gandalf’s recent decades of research, and the reader also can see the red flags popping up almost as soon as Isildur touches it. He “will have [the Ring] as weregild for my father, and my brother” he claims, which is a similar kind of justification to Bilbo’s story of winning the Ring instead of finding it. Weregild is, per dictionary.com: a term used in Anglo-Saxon and other Germanic countries for “money paid to the relatives of a murder victim in compensation for loss and to prevent a blood feud.” It’s something paid to prevent further bloodshed. It would have been weregild if Sauron had handed it over after Anárion had died, as part of some kind of peace brokerage. But it can’t be weregild if you’re taking it off the dead body of your enemy; it’s too late by then. Isildur does have every right to it as a spoil of war, and no one disputes that right. But the fact that Isildur has to change it and further justify it even in his own mind is a sign that the Ring is already working on him. And if that is not enough (which it might not be—weregild is a very archaic term), Tolkien further illustrates the effects of the Ring taking hold on Isildur in the document that Gandalf discovers in Minas Tirith’s archives: “But for my part I will risk no hurt to this thing: of all the words of Sauron the only fair. It is precious to me, though I buy it with great pain.”

This effect of the Ring is not something that can be defeated easily. Only twice is it given up willingly: once by Bilbo, who needs all of the help Gandalf can give him, and once by Sam, who has born it for a very short time—and even then “Sam felt reluctant to give up the Ring and burden his master with it again.” There you see another justification—perfectly in character for Sam to want to spare Frodo, but also a thought that the Ring can latch onto and use, to twist for its own purposes.

And though Sam is able to return it to Frodo with relative ease, he tries to compromise: “If it’s too hard a job, I could share it with you, maybe?”

Frodo’s reaction illustrates just how far gone he is—made more tragic by his awareness of it:

“‘No, no!’ cried Frodo, snatching the Ring and chain from Sam’s hands. ‘No you won’t, you thief!’ He panted, staring at Sam with eyes wide with fear and enmity. Then suddenly, clasping the Ring in one clenched fist, he stood aghast. A mist seem to clear form his eyes, and he passed a hand over his aching brow. The hideous vision had seemed so real to him, half bemused as he was still with wound and fear. Sam had changed before his very eyes into an orc gain, leering and pawing at his treasure, a foul little creature with greedy eyes and slobbering mouth. But now the vision had passed. There was Sam kneeling before him, his face wrung with pain, as if he had been stabbed in the heart; tears welled from his eyes.

“‘O Sam!’ cried Frodo. ‘What have I said? What have I done? Forgive me! After all you have done. It is the horrible power of the Ring. I wish it had never, never, been found. But don’t mind me, Sam. I must carry the burden to the end. It can’t be altered. You can’t com between me and this doom.’”

And that is only looking at what it does to people who possess it. Saruman never comes near it, but the mere desire twists him from someone noble and wise and good into a miniature Sauron. Boromir also falls—he is a good man, an honorable and brave and ambitious man desperate to protect his home, and the Ring takes that and twists it until Boromir breaks and attacks Frodo. The Ring is a thing made with evil and malicious intentions, for explicitly evil purposes, and it cannot be taken and used for good—in fact it will take even the best of intentions and twist them to evil. Gandalf knows this, and that is why when Frodo asks if he will take the Ring his response is immediate and vehement:

‘No!’ cried Gandalf, springing to his feet. ‘With that power I should have power too great and terrible. And over me the Ring would gain a power still greater and more deadly.’ His eyes flashed and his face was lit as by a fire within. ‘Do not tempt me! For I do not wish to become like the Dark Lord himself. Yet the way of the Ring to my heart is by pity, pity for weakness and the desire of strength to do good. Do not tempt me! I dare not take it, not even to keep it safe, unused. The wish to wield it would be too great for my strength. I shall have such need of it.’

And Galadriel has a similar response when Frodo offers it to her. There is of course her famous description of what she would become were she to take it, but then Sam says to her:

‘But if you’ll pardon my speaking out, I think my master was right. I wish you’d take his Ring. You’d put things to rights. You’d stop them digging up the gaffer and turning him adrift. You’d make some folk pay for their dirty work.’

‘I would,’ she said. ‘That is how it would begin. But it would not stop with that, alas! We will not speak more of it.’

That is why the plot of The Lord of the Rings centers around the Ring’s destruction. Everything else—the battles, the politics, the power struggles, Aragorn’s rise to kingship—all of it is secondary. And the Ring itself is an active player. I will not go so far as to claim it has sentience, or any kind of active thought, but there is a significant part of Sauron’s will and his power held within it, and there is a drive to be found and kept and used—and ultimately to return to its maker.

The Silmarils, on the other hand, are the greatest creation of Fëanor at the height of his powers in Valinor:

For Fëanor, being come to his full might, was filled with a new thought, or it may be that some shadow of foreknowledge came to him of the doom that drew near; and he pondered how the light of the Trees, the glory of the Blessed Realm, might be preserved imperishable. Then he began a long and secret labor, and he summoned all his lore, and his power, and his subtle skill; and at the end of all he made the Silmarils.

As three great jewels they were in form. But not until the End, when Fëanor shall return who perished ere the Sun was made … shall it be known of what substance they were made. Like the crystal of diamonds it appeared, and yet was more strong than adamant, so that no violence could mar it or break it within the Kingdom of Arda. Yet that crystal was to the Silmarils but as is the body to the Children of Ilúvatar: the house of its inner fire, that is within it and yet in all parts of it, and is its life. And the inner fire of the Silmarils Fëanor made of the blended light of the Trees of Valinor, which lives in them yet, though the Trees have long withered and shine no more.

Fëanor’s motives in making the Silmarils are not wholly clear—whether he had some foresight of the death of the Trees, or whether he just wanted to see if he could do it, or to show off his skills, or what. But whatever his motive is, it is not to enthrall or ensnare anyone. On the contrary—while the Ring seeks to isolate its bearer, the Silmarils, though “even in the darkness of the deepest treasury [they] of their own radiance shone like the stars of Varda; and yet, as were they indeed living things, they rejoiced in light and received it and gave it back in hues more marvelous than before.” They are at their most beautiful when out in the light, where they are most likely to be seen and enjoyed by everyone.

They are then hallowed by Varda. To hallow a thing is to to make it holy, and in the case of the Silmarils it also means that “thereafter no moral flesh, nor hands unclean, nor anything of evil will might touch them, but it was scorched and withered”. The mortal flesh bit is contradicted later when Beren handles one with seemingly no issue, but Beren is an exception to many rules, and what remains consistent is that nothing “of evil will” can touch the Silmarils and come away unharmed.

Like the One Ring, the entire plot of The Silmarillion is the great desire of various characters for the Silmarils. This begins with Melkor, whose lust for them inflames his desire to destroy Fëanor, and the friendship between the Valar and the Elves. But this should come as no surprise to the reader; Melkor has historically lusted after sources of power and Light, going often into the Void in search of the Flame Imperishable. The Silmarils themselves are not doing anything to Melkor; they are the objects of his desires, but not the source.

This pattern continues throughout the The Silmarillion. Fëanor and his sons swear their famous Oath, but the Silmarils don’t make them do it. Then Thingol tells Beren that he must retrieve a Silmaril before he can marry Lúthien, he is setting what seems to everyone present to be an impossible goal, especially after the Dagor Bragollach and the breaking of the Siege of Angband. I’m not saying that Thingol does not actually want a Silmaril; he is very happy to have it once he gets it, but it’s a very different desire from the kind inspired by the Ring much later. Then someone is the bearer of the One Ring, the last thing they want to do is give it up, as discussed above. But the Silmaril that Beren and Lúthien retrieve from Morgoth is passed around without any issue through many different hands. Nowhere is it even implied that Elwing, for example, has trouble giving it to Eärendil to take to the Valar, or to take with him when he sets sail in Vingilot.

Thingol’s desire for the Silmaril I mentioned above; it comes closest to mirroring the kind of obsession triggered by the Ring, but it is not the same. Although “as the years passed Thingol’s thought turned unceasingly to the jewel of Fëanor, and became bound to it,” which sounds a lot like Ring-esque obsession, it does not drive him to isolate himself, or to keep the Silmaril hidden away where only he can see or find it, the way Bilbo keeps the Ring in his pocket and never takes it out when others can see it. Thingol does become “minded now to bear it with him always, waking and sleeping,” but by its very nature that can’t be done secretly. There is also no use to the Silmaril the way there is to the Ring—it cannot turn one invisible, and it does not give one power over others. The Silmarils have a power—more on that later—but it’s of a very different kind.

An explanation can be found for Thingol’s obsession through a study of his character arc and his relationship with Valinor and the Trees (which is another essay unto itself). Thingol, along with Ingwë and Finwë, goes to Valinor as an ambassador, and when they return to Cuiviénen there is nothing in the text to indicate that he is more or less enthusiastic than his companions to convince the Eldar to go to dwell with the Valar, and he in fact leads the largest faction of the Eldar over Middle-earth on the Great Journey. It is only by chance (if chance you call it) that he stumbles upon Melian in Nan Elmoth, where “a spell was laid on him, so that they stood thus while long years were measured by the wheeling stars above them; and the trees of Nan Elmoth grew tall and dark before they spoke any word.” Famously, they remain lost in Nan Elmoth so long that Ulmo comes back to get the Teleri that have lingered to search for him, and under Olwë many of them depart, and those that remain give up the chance to get to Valinor—and that includes Thingol when he finally returns to them. Thingol does not choose to remain behind; he gets left behind. And when The Silmarillion speaks of Thingol’s desire to go to Valinor, it specifically says that it is the light of the Trees that he desires: “Greatly though he had desired to see again the light of the Trees, in the face of Melian he beheld the light of Aman as in an unclouded mirror, and in that light he was content.”

Fast forward to the Flight of the Noldor, and Thingol learns that Morgoth has destroyed the Trees (and murdered his friend Finwë), so that even if he were to reach Valinor, their light is gone forever. Fast forward to the Dagor Bragollach, and the Siege of Angband has broken and Beleriand is swiftly growing ever more dark and dangerous as the power of Morgoth grows. Then Beren comes, and the Quest happens, and now Thingol has a Silmaril. He no longer has to be content with the reflected light of Aman in Melian’s face, however unclouded a mirror it may be. Now he has the real thing, a real piece of Laurelin and Telperion at Mingling. Of course it might become an obsession.

Less readily explainable is the Dwarves’ decision to insist upon the Silmaril and the Nauglamír as payment, when Thingol commissions them to combine the two. They have been coming and going between their mountain halls and Menegroth for many generations by now, and there is no mention of any kind of prior dispute over payment—certainly not one that results in bloodshed. Yet when Thingol goes to take up the finished Nauglamír they “in that moment withheld it from him, and demanded that he yield it up to them, saying: ‘By what right does the Elvenking lay claim to the Nauglamír, that was made by our fathers for Finrod Felagund who is dead? It has come to him but by the hand of Húrin the Man of Dor-lómin, who took it as a thief out of the darkness of Nargothrond.’”

This does sound rather like the Ring-induced desires we see in The Lord of the Rings, although the Dwarves do not mention the Silmaril. It is Thingol who decides that that is what they want—whether he is correct in this assessment is, in my opinion, debatable. There is another form of treasure that warps people’s minds and desires—dragon gold. And the Nauglamír has just come from Nargothrond, that was for several years under the control of Glaurung. I have thus far only cited the published Silmarillion but at this point I do want to point out that in a previous draft of Thingol’s demise, the gold that Húrin brings to Thingol is, explicitly, cursed.

In the draft of the Quenta Noldorinwa found in The Shaping of Middle-earth Húrin and a few outlaws arrive at Nargothrond “which as yet none, Orc, Elf, or Man, had dared to plunder, for dread of the spirit of Glómund [Glaurung] and his very memory.” There they find the dwarf Mîm, who has come to Nargothrond and “bound [the treasure] to himself with many spells.” Húrin’s companions kill Mîm, “and at his death Mîm cursed the gold.”

This is the gold that, in this version of the story, Húrin takes to throw at Thingol’s feet, and it is this gold that Thingol then summons the Dwarves to make into the Nauglamír in which to hang the Silmaril. The text in this version is extremely explicit about the hold that the cursed gold takes over Thingol and also over the Dwarves who come to work with it. “Yet also they [the Dwarves] lusted for the Silmaril,” is added almost as an afterthought.

In the published Silmarillion there is no explicit curse, though the description of Nargothrond when Húrin comes to it is almost exactly the same as the earlier Quenta, and if one is familiar with The Hobbit, one might remember what else Tolkien has written about dragon hoards. When Bilbo witnesses Thorin’s dealing with Bard after Smaug is slain, the narrator says that “also he did not reckon with the power that gold has upon which a dragon has long brooded … Long hours in the past days Thorin had spent in the treasury, and the lust of it was heavy on him.” This is commonly called the dragon-sickness; its effects are varied in The Hobbit, affecting some more strongly than others—such as Thorin, and also the Master of Lake-town, who “being of the kind that easily catches such disease he fell under the dragon-sickness and took most of the gold and fled with it, and died of starvation in the Waste.”

One can thus infer that both Thingol and the Dwarves of Nogrod are also susceptible to the dragon-sickness, and also to fatal amounts of pride. This puts some of the blame on the Nauglamír, but still none at all on the Silmaril.

None of this is to say that the Silmarils are not desirable. The entire plot of The Silmarillion hinges on their desirability. But in this they are passive objects, unlike the Ring that actively seeks to ensnare new bearers whenever it can. What power lies in the Silmarils lies in the light of the Trees that lives inside them, and that light was made by Yavanna, and is holy and life-giving. The people of Sirion believe that “in the Silmaril lay the healing and the blessing that had come upon their houses and their ships,” and that seems to play a much larger part in their refusal to surrender the Silmaril to Maedhros than the fact that it is an heirloom of Lúthien and Dior. Considering the state of the rest of Beleriand at this time, there seems to be some truth to that belief. It is with the Silmaril also that Eärendil and Elwing are able at last to pass through the barriers around Valinor and come to the shores of Eldamar.

And, much later, it is the light of that Silmaril that Galadriel captures in the phial she gifts to Frodo, and though that phial might be considered as much a reflection of the light of Aman as lives in Melian’s face, there is real tangible power in it—power that works against that of the Ring (and the Witch-king) in the Morgul Vale as the Witch-king and his armies pass by:

There was no longer any answer to that command in his own will, dismayed by terror though it was, and he felt only the beating upon him of a great power from outside. It took his hand, and as Frodo watched with his mind, not willing it but in suspense (as if he looked on some old story far away), it moved the hand inch by inch towards the chain upon his neck. Then his own will stirred; slowly it forced the hand back and set it to find another thing, a thing lying hidden near his breast. Cold and hard it seemed as his grip closed on it: the phial of Galadriel, so long treasured, and almost forgotten till that hour. As he touched it, for a while all thought of the Ring was banished from his mind. He sighed and bent his head.

Later in Shelob’s lair Frodo brings the phial out, and

for a moment it glimmered, faint s a rising star struggling in heavy earthward mists, and then as its power waxed, and hope grew in Frodo’s mind, it began to burn, and kindled to a silver flame, a minute heart of dazzling light, as though Eärendil had himself come down from the high sunset paths with the last Silmaril upon his brow. The darkness receded from it, until ti seemed to shine in the center of a globe of airy crystal, and the hand that held it sparkled with white fire.

Frodo gazed in wonder at this marvelous gift that he had so long carried, not guessing its full worth and potency. Seldom had he remembered it on the road, until they came to Morgul Vale, and never had he used it for fear of its revealing light. Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima! he cried, and knew not what he had spoken; for it seemed that another voice spoke through his, clear, untroubled by the foul air of the pit.

And this is only the light of the Silmaril that Galadriel has caught in the water of her mirror, not the Silmaril itself—a fragment of a fragment of the light of the Trees. It stands and acts in opposition of the Shadow, whether of Morgoth or of Sauron.

All of this has been to say: one can compare the roles that the Silmarils and the One Ring play in their respective stories, as each lies at the center, but there the similarities end. The Silmarils are desirable for their goodness; the Ring is desirable for the malicious power that it promises any prospective bearer. As objects of power they are the antithesis of one another, and for a reader to treat or regard the Silmarils as they would the Ring is, quite frankly, wrong. The motives of a maker matter in Middle-earth, and whatever his deeds later, one cannot equate Fëanor at the height of his power in Valinor to Sauron at the height of his in Mordor.

Bibliography:

1. The Fellowship of the Ring, “The Council of Elrond”, “The Shadow of the Past”, “The Mirror of Galadriel” 2. dictionary.com, entry: weregild 3. The Return of the King, “The Tower of Cirith Ungol" 4. The Silmarillion, “Of the Silmarils and the Unrest of the Noldor” 5. The Silmarillion, “Of the Ruin of Doriath” 6. The Silmarillion, “Of Thingol and Melian” 7. The Silmarillion, “Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië” 8. The Shaping of Middle-earth, “The Quenta” 9. The Hobbit, “The Gathering of the Clouds” 10. The Hobbit, “The Last Stage” 11. The Two Towers, “The Stairs of Cirith Ungol" 12. The Two Towers, “Shelob’s Lair”

[batsplat]

what did you think of pecco accusing alex of crashing him out on purpose and once again reigniting the vr46 vs marquez feud

oooh boy anon. I've existed peripherally on various motogp-related social media platforms for quite a few years now without giving my immediate hot takes to various controversies, including and most importantly the rossi/marquez ones, and I'm not entirely sure I want to change that policy now

look, I'm mainly happy pecco seems more or less all right, because that was a really really scary crash and pecco spent much of the weekend flirting with serious injury. a lot of it was far too reminiscent of catalunya last year for my liking, and sometimes it's just worth remembering that riders are human beings who do get scared too. I'll keep my initial reaction to the incident as well as where I'm at now to myself. primarily since it's one of those incidents where my view has changed quite a few times after seeing it again, seeing different angles, seeing and listening to various opinions on it - which to me shows I don't have the tools to assess what 'really' happened (if anyone does). I'm not willing to take a firm stance on it, though I'd be interested to hear what various involved parties say at misano

all that being said, at the end of the day I just... don't massively mind what pecco said. riders accusing each other of playing dirty in crashes is something that existed before argentina 2018, it is something that will exist after this feud has run its course (aka once the concept of italy has finally been abolished). sometimes riders do invite contact without literally wanting to kill each other because it's a specific response to a specific racing situation. these debates are nothing new. I do get releasing a statement saying that crashing someone out deliberately isn't part of the dna of the sport but also, like, dorna's safety adviser infamously did that shit. so, y'know. it wasn't a nice thing of pecco to say, it probably wasn't all that smart - but this is also simply what happens sometimes when you put a mic in front of a rider who has just had an awful, at times terrifying day and has been knocked around a few too many times at frighteningly high velocities. it's even something non-italians have been known to do on occasion. I take more issue with the immediate vitriol of fan responses, but that does feel kinda unavoidable at this point. obviously, pecco is aware of who he is and of who alex marquez is - you see an incident sometimes and know the discourse will be 'bad', but I didn't clock immediately quite how bad it would be and pecco does ultimately share some responsibility for that. which is an interesting choice to make, one I'm still thinking my way through

at the end of the day, however, I would prefer to watch a version of the sport where riders sometimes say some wildly controversial shit about each other. it'd be nice if everyone didn't immediately lose their minds and quite a few of their morals too in response to those statements, but it does mean I'm not all that interested in condemning any riders for this kind of thing. I'm not interested in condemning anyone in general, that's just not really how I engage with sports. I'm interested in how this plays out from here - but it has reminded me personally of how I don't actually get a whole lot from interacting with social media fanbases in this sport, and it's time to make use of my rather stricter curation policy from circa... oh, I don't know, maybe 2018. which I have done! and was already increasingly enacting before this weekend. I don't want my enjoyment of the sport - including engaging with controversies like this, once the dust has settled and it's clear neither rider is 'seriously injured' (for a given meaning of those words) - to be tainted by already preemptively fearing the tone in which people will discuss a certain incident. sometimes you do just have to make the call for yourself to... make yourself unaware of the discourse from fans, to take the sport on its own terms. I'm interested in seeing how this situation develops and I'm interested in what it says about pecco, that's it really

oh, reading through the ask again - about the feud, I don't really have a take about that yet either beyond 'huh' and 'wonder how that'll play out'. the extent to which pecco (and his fellow academy members) engages or refuses to engage with that feud has always been fascinating to me, the feud's transitive properties are obviously crazy and ever so intriguing - but I won't have any takes on that until I see what tone he strikes when he's not just been dragged along under a bike at a high speed (even if he doubles down on his comments! which I'm guessing he will). also, it is always kinda funny when the sport has awful timing. it is kinda funny they're going to misano next for like a month

[dreamcatcher2113]

Hold Me Down for One Night, Like I Got 3 Strikes

Summary: It’s funny how all of this started with a map at Hartley High. You and Jace have been best friends for as long as you can remember. You both go to Hartley High, with your friends Quinni, Darren, Amerie, Harper, Malakai, and Ca$h. All of you had a sleepover at Jace’s place. What you guys didn’t know is that Jace’s hot uncles (Aegon and Aemond) and beautiful aunt (Helaena) are staying with his family because their new house is being renovated. Some Things started to stir up and old feelings began to surface. Only in Hartley High.

Warnings: Language, sexual content, 18+ smut, and more I can’t think of.

Author Note: Yes I am mixing HOTD and Heartbreak High together because I can and want to. Everyone is 18 years old in Hartley High. Aemond, Aegon and Helaena are in their 20’s. Aemond has a genetic condition that made him blind in his right eye. All the Targaryens are close, there is no feud. Daemon is not Rhaenyra’s uncle in this AU, and they are married. You are a Stark in this AU, Cregan is your cousin.

Inspiration: @valeskafics @tinfairies

Song: 3 Strikes by Terror Jr

__________________________________________

Prologue: How It All Started:

Once you and Jace hear someone yell out something about a map, the both of you followed everyone. The two of you see a solid line connected to both of your names, your eyes widen in fear. Someone knew you and Jace hooked up. The both of you wanted to lose your virginities, but not to a stranger. You both thought it was better to lose both of your v-cards to each other. You and Jace trusted each other, so why not? You both agreed it was just sex and it will not changed your friendship, which it didn’t. You and Jace acted the way you two always acted, nothing changed between you two. You and Jace kept it between the two of you, the only people who knew are Quinni and Darren. 

“Jace!” You hissed in a whisper. “How the absolute fuck did someone know we fucked?!?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t say anything, you know I don’t talk to anyone in the team.” Jace answered looking horrified as you do.

You turn to look at Quinni and Darren, silently asking them if they blabbed that you and Jace hooked up. They shook their heads no, telling you neither of them said anything about you and Jace. Whoever did the map, somehow found out. You were so fricken pissed. It was between you and Jace, it was no one’s business.

“Damn Jace! Good for you, getting that fine ass.” You hear Spider howling.

“Shut the fuck Spider!” Jace yelled at him.

“Why didn’t you tell us mate? We would have loved to hear the details of how you tamed the she wolf.” Spider continues.

“That’s it Spider!” Jace tries to launch at him with his fist, but you stop him.

“Jace. No, no, no, no. It’s not worth it.” You stop him from getting suspended, while hearing the rest of the guys howling at him.

After the chaos, you, Jace, Darren and Quinni get food at the courtyard. Darren was explaining to Quinni what Lazy Kebab is and she is asking them if they can see if she has giant flaps. Not the weirdest conversation you guys had with Quinni but it was up on the list. 

Quinni turns to you. “Can you look at them than Y/N?”

You tried not to choke on your food. “I’m sorry you want me to do what now?”

“Look at my flaps.” She said nonchalantly.

You swallow your food, trying not to choke. “Quinni, I love you deeply but I’m going to say no.”

Quinni gives you a pout and gives you puppy eyes, you still told her no. She sighs in defeat, and looks at Jace.

“Don’t even think about asking me, Quinni.” Jace said, while eating an apple.

“I wasn’t going to ask you Jace.” Quinni said.

“Good.”

“Are two sure you didn’t tell anybody about me and Jace hooking up?” You asked Darren and Quinni.

“I promise you Y/N we didn’t say anything.” Quinni answered, putting her hand on your shoulder, comforting you.

“We would never tell anyone. Besides, who would we tell?” Darren pointed out.

You turn to Jace giving a look. He puts both of us his hands up. “I swear on my love for my dog and my mom, I didn’t say anything.” Jace swore. “You three know I don’t talk to anyone on the basketball team because 1. Spider is a creep. 2. Ant follows him like a puppy, and 3. Dusty is a douche.”

All three of you nodded your heads in agreement. You three know Jace is not a stereotypical jock. He never really got along with Spider and his friends, he mostly tolerates him on a good day. Jace and Spider got into a fight one year, because Spider was saying some stuff about you that was a little disrespectful. Jace, being your best friend, got sick of it and punched him. Since then Jace disliked Spider even more.

The four of you started hearing people’s names from the speakers to go to classroom 5D. “Sounds like a bunch of dickheads.” You hear Darren say.

“Darren Rivers.” You hear his name.

“Damn it.”

“Quinn Gallagher-Jones.”

“What?”

“Y/N Stark.”

“Shit.”

“Jacaerys Targaryen.”

“Fuck.”

This was going to be a long semester. 

[thesamoanqueen]

I think it's because he's a part timer who can't work right now, so he comes back and suddenly they have the need to put him in a title match, instead of others who are there +300 days a year.

Story wise, it's a great match, but what's the outcome here? The Rock is going to be a full time champion? Or Roman is going to retain and keep the tiles away until mania 41? Idk personally I don't think a Roman vs The Rock match needs the titles. Without the titles the outcome of the match is less predictable.

No way, im tired...

We're talking about a generational match, it doesn't need anything around it or anything after it. It stands on its own for records, to tell in the future, it has a ten-year history and it can also have it after because clearly it could have repercussions for a lot of people. The title would be a plus, as it always is because we are talking about Roman and that man was built and has built his persona like the title himself.

This part timer thing honestly pissed me off, your boy is a full timer, he's there every week and what did he do apart from take off his suit and tie? He had a feud with Brock and we still don't know why. He fights with Dominik like two kidz at school. What is he giving us in return other than seeing his car seller face? Y'all are obsessed with this title and giving it to him, but you don't see that even if he had it, it wouldn't change anything at all. Its the man who made the title and that title would be a reward for you in a points collection, there would be nothing after it anyway.

Does the possibility of Roman arriving at WM 41 without being seen every week make you angry? Why didn't it make you mad that your boy take away from others the mainevent when he talks twice and doesn't build a story without being beaten like a potato sack before? Why do you get angry about someone who isn't there and is holding the title... dear God, "away for another year", when they have made another one for y'all to be happy? And most important questions, why do you always talk about great moments, but then you don't know the difference between one and two?

So, if you really want to talk about moment, lets talk about the echo, money, visibility and improve this business could have if THE ROCK would step in the ring again after all those years. If your future champ cant wait another year its because he doesn't have a shit to do during that whole year.

[acacia-may]

If I Were To Pluck On Your Heartstrings [AmaNene Week 2023]

Story Summary: When a tour of the Land of the Dead goes wrong, King Hanako of the Underworld finds himself eternally bonded and married to Nene, a lesser deity of horticulture who mistakenly ate the food of the dead, pomegranates said to make all of your dreams come true. Hanako has never paid much attention to that legend and sees no point in wishes and dreams, but as he and Nene grow closer he begins to wonder if maybe...just maybe...there might be some truth to it after all.

Fandom: Toilet-Bound Hanako-Kun/Jibaku Shounen Hanako Kun

Genre: Romance, Arranged Marriage, Mythology AU inspired by Hades and Persephone

Relationships: Hanako (Yugi Amane) and Yashiro Nene

Characters: Hanako (Yugi Amane) (POV Character) and Yashiro Nene

Rating: G

Warnings: Some very slight hurt/comfort, arranged marriage, and some mentions death, the underworld, and the end of the world.

Word Count: 4434

Link to original post on AO3. Please do not repost to another site.

A/N: Written for AmaNene Week 2023. Illustration (linked here and seen as part of the cover art) by co-creator @nothing-to-see-here-bye-yall.

Story Below the Cut! Thank you so much for reading! 💕

6 Months Ago…

“We have a problem.”

Hanako sighed and rubbed his temples. “What is it now, Tsuchigomori?” Being king of the Underworld there always seemed to something going wrong. Most recently it had been King Minamoto cutting their funding. Hanako huffed. The other deities didn’t think his work was important—or maybe some of them wanted a whole slew of hauntings or a zombie apocalypse as a way to cure their boredom. Hanako couldn’t be sure, but he got the feeling that it might be personal. After all, he wasn’t particularly well liked by the other gods and goddesses and King Minamoto himself most of all. Rather than start an all-out feud, Tsuchigomori had suggested they open up tours of the Underworld to all the other deities to show them the important work they did there and maybe they would petition King Minamoto for proper funding on their behalf—or at the very least their entrance fees could help to offset some of the funding deficit. Hanako already regretted it and had a feeling he would regret it even more as soon as Tsuchigomori explained what exactly the trouble was.

“It seems someone has eaten one of our pomegranates.”

Hanako blinked at him. “What?”

“A girl—a lesser deity of some sort—she has eaten one of our pomegranates. Apparently she was stopped before she ate the whole thing so she isn’t completely ‘dead’ per se, but…”

“But?” Hanako interrupted with a huff.

Tsuchigomori adjusted his glasses. “But she’s still going to be stuck down here, I’m afraid.”

Hanako sighed. He knew this but had still been hoping for a different outcome. “Where in the world was the tour guide?”

Tsuchigomori shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure he was somewhere…”

Natsuhiko was good for very little if anything. Hanako should’ve known better than to put him in charge of giving tours, but he figured even that moron couldn’t manage to mess up something so simple as showing people around. Clearly he had been wrong.

“Fire him and get someone else.” Hanako shook his head. “And bring the girl in here, I guess.”

Tsuchigomori nodded solemnly before excusing himself, and within minutes, he returned accompanied by a confused girl with long hair.

“Oh wow!” she exclaimed with wide eyes. “This really is some tour if I get to meet the king of the Underworld.” She bowed quickly but respectfully. “Hello Your Highness. I’m Nene.”

Hanako’s jaw fell slack and he blinked at her dumbfounded. His brow furrowed. “Do you have any idea why you’re here?”

“Well…my friend Aoi heard that you were giving tours of the Underworld and thought it might be fun and…”

“No,” Hanako interrupted and corrected. “Why you’re being brought here to see me…”

Nene tilted her head. “Is this not part of the tour?”

“No, it’s not part of the tour.” Hanako huffed. “You’ve eaten some of our pomegranates.”

Nene shuffled her feet as a faint tint of pink flushed in her cheeks. “Well…only half of one,” she insisted pulling the other half out of her pocket.

“These are Underworld pomegranates—if you eat them you will die and be stuck down here forever. Didn’t the tour guide tell you that?”

Nene hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe…I don’t know, but he did tell us that they’re magical pomegranates and the people who eat them have their dream come true and my dream is to find true love.”

Hanako pressed his hand to his forehead with a weary, disbelieving shake of his head. Not only did this girl have no impulse control but she was also completely stupid.

“Remind me to fire Natsuhiko,” he muttered under his breath to Tsuchigomori before he turned back to Nene. “Good luck with that seeing as you’re going to be stuck in the Underworld now.”

“But I’m a deity—only a small one of horticulture, but I still can’t die.”

“You can if you eat the food of the Underworld. I don’t—” He stopped abruptly as he watched the tears well up in Nene’s eyes.

“But…but I can’t die. I haven’t even been kissed yet. Can you imagine anything worse than dying before you’ve been kissed?”

“Yes,” huffed Hanako, but Nene just cried harder.

“Please, please King Hanako, do something!”

“There’s nothing I can do,” he insisted.

“But you’re the king of the Underworld. Surely there’s something…” As Nene’s voice trailed, she stared up at him with wide, pleading eyes, and Hanako’s cheeks grew warm. He bristled but conceded with a sigh.

“Alright…There might be something. Give me the other half of the pomegranate.”

Sniffling, Nene did as she was told and handed him the pomegranate half. She audibly gasped when he ate the other half himself. Even the usually emotionless Tsuchigomori’s eyebrow twitched.

“Sire…” he muttered through his teeth, but Hanako ignored him.

“There. Now you’re only half-affected.”

Nene’s brow furrowed, and she tilted her head at him in misty-eyed confusion. “I don’t understand…”

“You only ate half the pomegranate, and I ate the other half so you’ll only have to spend half of the year here with me.”

Nene wiped her eyes, but she blinked at him in disbelief. “Really?” she choked.

Hanako nodded. “Yes, in six months from now you’ll get to go back to the surface.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much, Your Highness!” she exclaimed as a smile spread between her cheeks. Hanako’s face flushed again, but he frowned as he heard Tsuchigomori clear his throat pointedly.

“Oh right…” he added somewhat dismissively. “There’s something else. You’re…uh…kind of Queen of the Underworld now.”

Nene stopped abruptly and her eyes widened. “What?”

“Yeah, when the pomegranates are shared between two people they’re kind of eternally bonded together or whatever.” Hanako waved his hand dismissively and shrugged it off. “But don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal. I don’t really want a queen, but I could use some help around here given that our funding has been cut so if you just help me out with some housekeeping things we can call it even, okay? Deal?”

Hanako held out his hands to her, and Nene blinked at him before she took his hands. Hanako smiled, and Nene swallowed hard but nodded in agreement albeit a bit unsurely. “Deal.”

5 Months Ago…

Surprisingly enough, the citizens of the Underworld took to their new queen immediately. Within weeks she had hoards of Mokke following her around like little ducks, and the mermaids in the river of the dead had composed several, somewhat haunting ballads about her. Even Yako who usually didn’t take to new people warmed up to her after a month had passed and had lots of fun dressing her up in lavish gowns and extravagant hair styles. Hanako supposed Nene just had that effect on people—she was bright, bubbly, and cheerful like a little ray of sunshine in their otherwise dark and depressing land of the dead.

She was also a hard-worker and had been a great help in cleaning things up and keeping things running on the shoestring budget King Minamoto had recently given them, and, Hanako supposed, Tsuchigomori was right that her efforts deserved to be rewarded so he called her into the throne room for an audience.

“You called for me, Your Highness?” asked Nene with a polite bow.

“You can call me Hanako if you’d like. You are the queen after all.”

Nene nodded. “Right, yes. Did you need something, Hanako?”

“Tsuchigomori has recently sent me the report from the last couple of months and it seems things are running much more efficiently, and everyone is much happier with you here.”

Nene smiled with pink cheeks. “Really?”

Hanako cleared his throat. “Well maybe not everyone. King Minamoto—”

“King Minamoto is worried about me?” gasped Nene with a bright beaming smile, and Hanako rolled his eyes.

“No, but his brother is. He has been writing me asking me to let you return to the surface with the other deities even though I’ve explained that I can’t do that for another four months.”

“I didn’t know King Minamoto had a brother…” she tilted her head in confusion.

“Well, he does apparently, and he’s worried about you. You should look him up when you get out of here.”

“I guess...” Nene sighed with a shrug of her shoulders. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Not exactly. I…” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to make sure you were comfortable and happy here…or at least as happy as you could be.”

Nene’s smile brightened. “Oh that’s so nice! It’s nice here and everyone is really friendly, but I do miss my garden.”

“Your garden?”

Nodding, Nene hummed thoughtfully. “I’m the goddess of horticulture, remember? Up on the surface I had a beautiful garden full of plants and flowers even some berries and vegetables too, but it’s always so dark here, I can’t get anything to grow—well…besides your pomegranate orchard, which is great, of course, just…”—she sighed—”I miss my flowers and vegetables too.”  

“I see…” sighed Hanako. “Well…I’m not sure there is much I can do about that. It’s the Underworld so it’s supposed to be dark here.”

Nene’s face fell, but she nodded. “I understand.”

“I guess I could write to King Minamoto and ask if we could put in a skylight or something.” Hanako shook his head slightly. “But I’ve asked him before, and he said no so…”

“You asked before?” she interrupted with a curious tilt of her head. “Did you want a garden?”

“No,” Hanako replied with a shrug of his shoulders, regretting having said too much already. “It’s honestly kind of stupid, but when I was first put in charge of things around here, I really wanted to see the moon. No funny business or anything, just wanted to put in a skylight so I could see it every now and again or at least could see the moonlight.”

Nene frowned. “You’re not one of those men obsessed with the moon goddess are you? Sure, she’s very pretty, but she’s kind of overrated. And I’ve heard she hates men so…”

Hanako laughed and playfully rolled his eyes. Natsuhiko was one such man, and he was particularly annoying about it—though, Hanako supposed, he was particularly annoying about most things. “No. It has nothing to do with her. It just gets so dark down here, and I figured I’ve been down here so long that my eyes wouldn’t adjust to the sunlight but maybe moonlight…” His voice trailed. “Never mind.”  

“Well maybe if I write to King Minamoto’s brother, he could help us get a skylight and then I could get my garden and you could see the moon.”

Hanako shrugged. “Sure. Knock yourself out, but King Minamoto hates me so I doubt even his brother will be able to persuade him to do me a favor.”  

4 Months Ago…

Hanako had quickly been proven wrong. After Nene had written to King Minamoto’s brother, Prince Kou, about their dilemma and wish for a skylight, he had personally petitioned the king to get one installed. Within weeks, they had a small skylight overlooking a clearing near the River of the Dead, and Nene immediately set to work planting all manner of flowers and vegetables in her garden which seemed to spring to life almost overnight. Though Hanako would never admit it, it warmed his heart to see her so happy. Her face practically beamed any time she mentioned it, and she thanked him profusely for letting her have her own part of the Underworld to grow things in. She spent hours in that garden, and one evening when Hanako was fast asleep she burst into his room shaking him awake with an excited, “Hanako! Hanako! Wake up!”

Hanako rubbed his eyes sleepily, mumbling something vaguely incoherent about leaving him alone to rest, but Nene continued shaking his shoulders. “Wake up! You need to come see this!”

“Alright. Alright,” he finally conceded with a yawn as he grabbed his robe and followed her out into her garden.

She practically bounced as she led him directly under the skylight with a triumphant, “Look!”   

Hanako rubbed his eyes. Maybe he was just exhausted but he didn’t have the slightest idea what he was supposed to be looking at.

“You can see the moon!” she explained, and Hanako’s eyes widened as he gazed up through the skylight to the moon outside. It was bright and shimmery surrounded by a sky full of stars as moonlight shone through the skylight’s glass. Hanako stopped in his tracks, and his eyes began to feel misty. He turned to Nene whose entire face was beaming and bright with the biggest smile he had ever seen.

“Isn’t it beautiful, Hanako?” she asked with a bubbly excitement, and he mumbled almost in spite of himself.

“Yes, beautiful…” Though he wasn’t looking at the moon.

3 Months Ago…

It quickly became a sort of tradition for them on nights when the moon was out, they would work side by side for hours in her garden talking and laughing about the most random, everyday things. Though they spent time together throughout the day, it was mostly business, related to running their Underworld Kingdom. They frequently shared dinner together, but they never talked with each other as freely and openly as they did in Nene’s garden. It was only there that he truly learned about her—her hopes, her dreams, her many failed attempts to find love and her firmly held belief that her soulmate was still waiting out there for her.

“What are your dreams, Hanako?” she asked one evening after talking about her own.

“What do you mean?” Hanako replied with a tilt of his head.

“You know besides seeing the moon… Do you have other dreams? Other things you’d like to do?”

Hanako shrugged. “Not really. As an immortal being, things get kind of old—especially when you’ve been stuck in the Underworld for as long as I have. It’s hard to believe there’s new and exciting things out there, you know?”

“I’m kind of new and exciting though, right?”

Hanako blinked at her, but his mouth curved into a playful lopsided grin. “Annoying is more like it.”

Nene pouted teasingly, and Hanako laughed at her playful huffiness. “Oh come on. Surely you have something you want or something you want to do.”

“Nope,” Hanako quipped with a cheeky smile, but it was a lie. He had a wish—a wish for more days with Nene just like this one, but he didn’t see the point in wishing for things that would never come true.

2 Months Ago…

As much as Hanako hated to admit it, slowly, but surely she wore him down with her complaints that he knew everything about her, but she knew next to nothing about him. Hanako insisted, somewhat cheekily, that that was only because she didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut and talked constantly, but he still found himself slowly opening up to her. The words seemed to tumble out of his mouth before he could stop them and despite his best attempts to stay guarded, it wasn’t long before Nene knew things about him that he had never told anyone: his regrets, his fears, those burdens that he denied even to himself.

“I didn’t know you had a brother…” she had said when he had finally told her about Tsukasa and his life before he had become King Hanako of the Underworld when he had just been Amane, a run-of-the-mill lesser deity who loved his family and wanted to visit the palace of the moon.

“Not many people do, I think,” he sighed. “He got mixed up in something really dark—tried to end the mortals’ world…King Minamoto has him locked up somewhere, and I”—his voice hitched—“I helped put him there.”

Nene’s eyes widened, and Hanako turned away from her abruptly. “It needed to be done, of course, but I…I still…” He swallowed hard but muttered, “Never mind.” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I could tell King Minamoto didn’t trust me either, but he made me king of the Underworld after that and I haven’t been up to the surface since, which is just as well, I guess. I—”

He stopped abruptly as Nene wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry.”

“Knock…knock that off…” he muttered as his face flushed red, and he tried to shake her off of him. “It’s not a big deal, and I’m fine. I didn’t tell you because I wanted you to feel sorry for me.”

“It’s not just pity,” Nene insisted with kind eyes. “You’re…my friend…and…”—she blushed red. “I care about you, Hanako.”

Hanako’s cheeks felt suddenly hot, and he frowned though he was sure his face was nearly as red as Nene’s. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had told him they cared about him, and Nene’s words were so earnest, so genuine, and so unexpected that he felt a pang in his chest. Before he could even think to stop himself, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into his chest—his fingers gently tangling in her long hair.

He heard her gasp in surprise, but she soon relaxed, almost melting into his arms and pulled him close to her as well—pressing her chin to his shoulder. The words he so desperately wanted to say got caught in his throat and all he could manage was “Thank you.” But he hoped she would know that his words meant so much more than just that. And for the first time in longer than he could remember he said, “And you can call me, Amane…if you want…”

1 Month Ago…

The King of the Underworld couldn’t describe the absolute rush he felt whenever Nene called him by name—by his real name: Amane. He knew he was probably kidding himself, but he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something in her eyes when she called him by name—if she truly saw him, not just as the fearsome ruler of the Land of the Dead, but as a real person, a real friend and, dare he even allow himself to hope, perhaps something more. But, of course, they never spoke of that. Never spoke of the fact they were technically king and queen, were technically eternally bonded to one another though their marriage was only in name and agreed to as a last resort. They never spoke of the fact that Nene didn’t belong here—among the dark, the death and decay. They never spoke of the day she would one day have to leave, and certainly never, ever spoke of the fact that the longer time went on, the more Amane didn’t want her to. But he could never ask her to stay. She belonged on the surface and in a month’s time, she would finally return there and—Amane thought with an ache in his chest—would likely forget all about him. Though he knew she would never want to come back to him once she had remembered how wonderful life was in the Land of the Living, he still couldn’t help but hope she would still remember him, perhaps even look back on some of the times they had shared together as fond memories.

“I have something for you,” he said with a lopsided smile even though he could feel his heart racing as he fumbled around with the box in his pocket. Nene looked up from the patch of garden she had been weeding with a curious tilt of her head, but she set down her trowel as Amane handed the little box to her. Nene’s eyes widened as he opened the lid of the box to see the beautiful ring of twisted golden vines and flowers with priceless gems in the center.

Nene gasped but smiled. “It’s beautiful.”

Amane’s cheeks grew warm, but he shrugged his shoulders. “It’s nothing really, just I wanted to get you something so…” He swallowed hard but tried his best to sound nonchalant. “So you won’t forget me.”

Nene took his hands, and as she met his eyes, Amane could have sworn his heart jumped into his throat. “I could never forget you. I’m really going to miss it here when I have to go away.”

Some of Nene’s entourage of Mokke began to whimper, and Amane’s own face flushed but he shrugged his shoulders. “It’s only for half the year. We’ll all still be here when you come back. But just you wait…you’ll be so happy up there on the surface that you’re not going to want to come back.”

Nene sighed and twisted her hands. “Maybe... but I don’t think so.” She smiled slightly at him. “I’m going to miss you, Amane, and all the Mokke and Yako and Tsuchigomori. I’ll probably even miss Natsuhiko.”

Amane snorted a laugh. “I seriously doubt that.”

Nene frowned, but her expression softened as she fidgeted. “Do you…do you think you’ll miss me?”

Amane’s face flushed, but he bristled and shrugged. “Well…I think it’ll be harder to run things around here without you.”

“Oh…” she said quietly as her face fell.

Sighing, Amane reached out and took her hand. “But yes, I…I’ll miss you…”

“Amane, I—” Her voice hitched, and she stopped abruptly. “I…never mind…” She shook her head before returning to her garden and trying to wrestle her trowel back from the playfully thieving Mokke. Something ached in Amane’s chest. Some things were better left unsaid.

Today...

Nene’s six months in the Underworld seemed to fly by in the blink of an eye, and though Amane and his subjects planned a lavish goodbye banquet and festival for Nene to celebrate her last day with them, Nene and Amane spent their final evening together as they always did, tending her garden by the moonlight. He promised her multiple times that he would be sure to take care of her garden while she was away and reassured her that everything would be waiting for her just the way she had left it when she returned in six months’ time. Nene thanked him graciously, but there was something forced and bittersweet in her smile.

Amane quickly got the impression that she was stalling as she began overwatering and pushing dirt around, if only to look busy, but when he had teased her about it, she had simply met his eyes and asked if he would stay with her for just a little while longer. He couldn’t find it in his heart to say no.

As they lied down in the soft grass and stared up at the moonlight streaming in through the skylight in the ceiling, Nene had curled next to him. His heart raced as she nestled into his chest.

“What if I stayed?” she asked quietly at last. Amane’s heart jumped into his throat, but he sighed.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, Nene. You belong on the surface.”

“But…I don’t want to leave you here.”

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured her. “It’ll just be like it was before.” Only it wouldn’t be. He knew that better than anyone. “You have a whole world out there waiting for you.”

Nene shook her head. “This is my world now.”

“Then it’s a very small one.”

“Maybe…” she conceded with a sigh. “But it’s beautiful and it’s enough for me.”

Amane scoffed as he sat up and shook his head as he turned to face her. “What about your dreams, Nene? Didn’t you only eat that pomegranate in the first place because you wanted to find true love? Are you really going to give up on your dream that easily?”

There was a long, heavy pause before Nene whispered so quietly Amane almost couldn’t hear her. “But it already came true…”

As she smiled at him, his cheeks flushed red. “Don’t…” his voice hitched but he frowned. “Don’t be stupid…”

“I’m not stupid,” she insisted crossing her arms. “Amane…” His stomach backflipped at the look in her eyes when she said his name. She reached out a gentle hand to stroke the side of his cheek. “I love you. I don’t want to leave.”

“Nene…” he began to protest, but she interrupted him.

“Natsuhiko was right about that pomegranate. It really did make my dreams come true. I don’t need to go back to the surface to find true love. I already have it with you.” She smiled slightly, but her smile quickly faded as she fidgeted nervously and asked, “Do you…do you really not…love me?”

Amane swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure how to lie his way out of this one, and worst of all, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to. “Nene, I…” He stopped abruptly—growing suddenly aware of how close she was to him, of how he could feel her warm breath on his cheeks, of how he could count every freckle on her nose. With a sigh, he turned away from her. “I do…I do love you, but that’s why you have to go.”

“Why? I don’t understand.”

“Because you deserve more—deserve better than this.”

“Amane…this is what I want,” she insisted. “This life…you…all of it. This is my dream now. All of my wishes came true”—her cheeks flushed—“except one.”

Amane blushed but cleared his throat. “And what’s that?”

“To be kissed.”

“Well I…I think I…might be able to fix that…” His mouth twitched in the corners before he gently cupped her face in his hands, closed his eyes, leaned in and kissed her. As he pulled her close and tangled his hand in her hair, everything that came before and everything that may come after suddenly didn’t matter anymore. When they broke apart breathless and red-faced, Nene stared up at him with bright, pleading eyes. “Are you…are you still going to make me go?”

Amane pressed his palm to her cheek. “I don’t have a choice, Nene, but you’ll get to come back. Six months isn’t very long to spend apart, and you can write.” He pushed a piece of long hair out of her face. “I promise I’ll be here right where you left me.”

And half-a-year later, when she returned home—returned to him running straight into his arms with the biggest brightest smile on her face, he was.

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 4.5/5

Book Blurb: In the Remixed Classics series, authors from marginalized backgrounds reinterpret classic works through their own cultural lens to subvert the overwhelming cishet, white, and male canon. Queer star-crossed love amid a centuries-old feud takes center stage in this Romeo & Juliet remix that knows sometimes, the best way is to make it gay.

Verona, Italy. Seventeen-year-old aspiring artist Romeo dreams of a quiet life with someone who loves him just as he is. But as the heir to the Montague family, he is expected to give up his "womanly" artistic pursuits and uphold the family honor—particularly in their centuries-old blood feud with a rival family, the Capulets. Worse still, he is also expected to marry a well-bred girl approved by his parents and produce heirs. But the more Romeo is forced to mingle with eligible maidens, the harder it is to keep his deepest secret: He only feels attracted to other boys.

In an attempt to forget his troubles for just one night, Romeo joins his cousin in sneaking into a Capulet party. During a fateful encounter in the garden, he meets the kindest, most beautiful boy he's ever met, and is shocked to learn he's Valentine, the younger brother of one of his closest friends. He is even more shocked to discover that Valentine is just as enamored with Romeo as Romeo is with him.

So begins a tender romance that the boys must hide from their families and friends, each of them longing for a world where they could be together without fear. And as the conflict between the Montagues and Capulets escalates out of control, Romeo and Valentine find themselves in danger of losing each other forever—if not by society's scorn, then by the edge of a blade.

Review:

A queer reimagining of Romeo and Juliet where Romeo is gay and in love with his best friend's brother and Juliet is aro-ace??? YES PLEASE. Romeo is an aspiring artist, just looking to pursue his passion and be freed of the demands of his family to marry because he has a deep dark secret, he is not interested in women at all. Romeo has tried putting off all the marriage proposals and prolonging it for as long as possible yet when his best friend's brother Valentine finally comes back into town, Romeo knows he's found the one. Romeo knows that his love for Valentine is forbidden and with the tensions in the city rising and the Capulet and Montague families rising, blood will be spilled. Then there is Juliet, the counterpart to Romeo, a girl who wants nothing more than to be freed from the arranged marriage to someone she doesn't want that her family is forcing her into. Juliet is willing to do anything to be freed even come up with a very insane plan for both her and Romeo to make it out of Verona with their lives. This was such a fun take on the classic story and I loved the queer take on the classic. The ending was perfect and I would definitely recommend this for anyone who is a fan of the classic or for anyone who ever thought that maybe Romeo and Juliet should have ended differently!

*Thanks Netgalley and Macmillan Children's Publishing Group, Feiwel & Friends for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[insurrection-if]

Imagine MC with Childhood admiration Bones romancing Daeril. Can you feel it? It's the feeling of angst

Ah, angst indeed! That's quite the harsh mixture of heartache and awkwardness for Bones! （∂△∂；） Dearil would consider it an amusing development to tease his protégé over . . . until the whole affair threatened the subordination of Bones.

To Bones, Dearil is an indecipherable and complicated mixture of a father, brother, and distant mentor all at once. He has confided in Dearil about the childhood crush he once held (if applicable), and is similarly aware about vague details concerning Dearil’s ill-fated past love. I don’t think betrayal would even begin to cover the mess of emotions Bones would feel if Dearil were to be romanced by the MC. Yes, he admires Dearil deeply and respects the man's decisions. Yes, he knows he has been nothing but cruel in denying the MC (for the MC's own sake the sake of the his personal cause) and has hoped against hope for them to find someone far better than him. To have that someone be the pseudo-father-brother-mentor abomination of Dearil, a man whose intentions he knows will lead nowhere good for the MC . . . it's a striking challenge to his loyalty towards Dearil, as well as the former closeness he felt with the man.

To Dearil, Bones is a (horribly sentimental) reflection of his younger self and a handy pawn whose absolutely loyalty may prove advantageous in times to come. Occasionally, to his own utter dismay, he does feel a sense of genuine care and protectiveness over the troubled young man - and he admits that he would happily kill anyone who even posed any harm to his strange "friend". This feud over the MC would at first seem dismissible to him as he assumes Bones will concede over his jealousy since the young man has no (proclaimed) intentions of accepting your heart. The more his desire for the MC visibly upsets Bones, however, the more he wrestles between challenging Bones on his childish antics (claiming you while rejecting you like a spoiled and greedy child) or trying to appease the man's heartbreak over you (yet his own possessiveness leashes him back from doing so). In time, Dearil would grow spiteful over his gnarled concern for the shaken bond he has with his protégé.

Mm, it's also quite interesting to consider Uriel and Hopscotch in this dynamic. Uriel would instantly back Bones, pestering encouraging him to not give up hope his pursuit of your heart. If Bones managed to succeed in rekindling some returned passion from you then it's all the better for lessening his competition for Dearil's heart.

Hopscotch (the unnamed but generally assumed protégé to Uriel), on the other hand, would be the #1 shipper for Bones and the MC if there was a romantic history between them . . . but that passion for Bones' happily-ever-after with you would burn out quick if you had a simultaneous, ongoing romance with Dearil as well (past the minor romance lock-in).

Recognizing the threat Dearil's influence currently poses within the CARDINALS, and the general influence the man bears over his best friend, he might use this as an opportunity to slowly push Bones further outside Dearil's control - even if that means pushing the MC further into Dearil's arms to stir discord between the two men. Besides, in his mind, an MC that puts Bones through the unconcealable anguish of watching them pursue his guardian-figure is not one worthy of having him. ┐(´∀｀)┌

Then again, you can simply have a Bones that had a childhood crush on the MC, then have the MC pursue Dearil, and then choose to not activate Bones' minor romance. In that case, Bones retains his sentimentality for the MC as his first love crush, but manages to sufficiently move on past his lingering romantic affection. This Bones would be grossed out and disturbed to see the MC pursue Dearil, but heartbreak and jealousy are no longer present to force cracks in his relationship with his mentor. There would be a sting to his heart and confusion, yes, but far less angst for everyone involved. d(･∀･○)

[thebandcampdiaries]

SMG presents WGACBA (What Goes Around Comes Back Around)

The second diss track from SMG in response to Talha Anjum's behavior and in defense of fellow rapper NAEZY.

SMG is a talented artist from Pakistan, and he has a vision: telling powerful stories through his music and connecting with the audience on a much deeper level. He started his journey in secret as a teenager, writing and composing for independent artists without really getting his name out there. He continued to work this way for quite some time now, and eventually, he actually moved to an even more professional arrangement with his songwriting work. SMG signed with a label and created almost a thousand songs. However, his demo tape was never released, so he never had the chance to showcase his work to the public as an artist. Despite that, he did not get discouraged. SMG kept writing songs for others, helping artists unlock their full potential. Finally, the wind of change brought SMG an opportunity to release a song. After some ups and downs in life, he finally debuted on May 14, 2021, with the song "MAA BABA," which got over 225,000 streams on YouTube. The music video also got millions of views, inspiring him to keep creating emotional and relatable music. This was a stunning success for SMG and a great example of the power of perseverance. By believing in ourselves, there is truly nothing that we can't accomplish! He continued to release amazing music, and his most recent track,"

WGACBA (What Goes Around Comes Back Around)" is yet another example of his talent and artistry. WGACBA (What Goes Around Comes Back Around) is the second diss track by SMG aimed at Talha Anjum. This is a follow-up to his first diss track, "Talha Chomu." Just to give people a little context, this whole feud started when Talha Anjum got upset because NAEZY, in an interview, said he didn't know who Talha Anjum was. Talha Anjum then began dissing and trolling NAEZY online, leading SMG to react with his own diss. The title of the song is a reference to how actions have consequences in life. If someone does something bad, it will eventually come back to affect them. In this context, SMG is actually talking about how Talha Anjum's behavior and actions will come back to affect him, and the diss track is all about how he should have more respect for other artists in the community and avoid harassing or bullying people online. This is even more poignant, especially in the wake of how NAEZY had been experiencing some struggles, which prompted him to take a temporary break from music. However, Talha Anjum always seems to be using feuds with other artists as a way to start a fuss and promote his music and himself. SMG, on the other hand, is an amazing example of how great the Indian rap community can be. It's all about artists standing by each other and supporting each other rather than putting each other down! On WGACBA (What Goes Around Comes Back Around), SMG also questions Talha Anjum's credibility as an artist and accuses him of being insincere.

Musically, the song showcases SMG's variety and his amazing flow as a rapper. He has a lot of versatility on tap, and what makes his style quite special is that he is able to seamlessly switch from more melodic lines to rapid-fire lyrical lines that are really impactful and strong. Considering that this is a diss track, he was really able to set a high bar and come up with a powerful and memorable twist, which makes the whole song even more remarkable. This release stands out not just because of its edgy and engaging performance but also due to its high-quality production. The mix is well-balanced and detailed, creating a lively and bold sound. Overall, the song has a really well-executed instrumental, with a deep, tight low end and a smooth, clear top end that really makes a difference. In other words, WGACBA (What Goes Around Comes Back Around) showcases SMG's rap chops because it truly stands out for its modern sound, with polished production that remains unpretentious, allowing many natural and "human" elements to bring liveliness to the mix, thus highlighting the artist's unique style. He sure won't back down from a challenge, and this diss proves that he is ready to take on even the most established rappers in the community!

With this success, SMG continues to keep evolving its sound, aiming to connect deeply with listeners!

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WGACBA (What Goes Around Comes Back Around) is going to be available on some of the best digital streaming services very soon.