#why did that quote just went like an arrow by my head

[douceurrrr]

𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 | 𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐲

— you and camp counselor!ethan gets lost in the woods.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | kissing, lil rough, doggy, fucked over table, begging, ethan’s pull out game being strong, oral (f), enemies to lovers

audio link

the sounds of cricket and owls fills your ear as you and ethan walk around the wood, branches cracking with each step. “I’m pretty sure we’re going in circles.” ethan huffed. “why do you say that?” you asked, following close behind him. “uh because we passed this tree like three time already.” he replied with an attitude.

you had first met ethan when you were interviewing for the open camp counselor position, you hadn’t got accepted to any colleges after high school and you needed a job so a camp counselor was like your last resort. ethan was smart enough for college but needed a job to pay for books and stuff. at first ethan wasn’t all that bad but he slowly became a dick.

“I thought you said you ‘knew’ where we were going.” he said with air quotes, glancing angrily at you. “I know where we’re going… maybe.” you told him with a nervous smile. “maybe? dude we’re lost and it’s your fault.” ethan says, shaking his head in disbelief. “oh my god, calm you whiny ass down.” you said making him even more angry. “oh I’m sorry your highness but do you know where the fuck we are right now?” he says with sarcasm. i mean at least you guys had flashlights.

“from now on we listen to me, not your shitty directional skills.” you fought the urge to beat his ass right then and there. “who pissed in your cereal this morning?” you said, rolling your eyes. ethan didn’t reply and just kept walking. “answer me, landry. what the fuck is your problem.” you said, pushing his shoulder. ethan sharply turned around. “my problem is obviously you, ever since I started working here you’ve been giving me shit for no reason.” ethan says and started walking again.

you shook your head. “no I haven’t.” you replied, furrowing your eyebrows. “ouu denial, I love it.” he says, sarcastically. “oh fuck off, landry.” ethan chuckled in reply making you blood boil. “you seriously have a complaining problem.” you mumbled but he obviously heard you. “I’ll complain if I want to, it’s better than hearing you talk.” he replied. you scoffed and kept walking.

“whatever, are we even going the right way dickface?” you asked with a smug look on your face. ethan just pointed somewhere so you pointed your flashlight to where he pointed to reveal a sign saying camping grounds

with a arrow pointing to the right. “trust me now?” ethan says, not earning a reply from you, you began walking in front of him. “holy shit.” ethan gasped, looking at your leg. “ethan don’t fuck with me right now.” you said, standing still in fear. “you have a medium sized cut on the back of your leg.” ethan told you. you turn your body to see behind you leg and lord behold there was blood running down your leg and onto your sock. “you must’ve done that when we went through the bushes, how did you not feel that?” he says, looking closely at the cut.

suddenly Ethan starts to walk towards you with his arms out. “whoa what are you doing.” you say, stepping back from him. “come on, I’ll carry you to the camping grounds and get my first aid kit.” he says, walking towards you again only for you to back up again. “don’t put your filthy hands on me, landry.” you warned knowing damn well you wanted the opposite. “stop being a brat and come on.” he huffed in annoyance but you finally gave in, letting him pick you up in bridal style and carry you towards the camp.

-

once he reached the camping grounds with you in his arms, he walks into the wooden room and sits you down on a table with your flashlight beside you. “I’ll go get the first aid kit.” ethan says before walking away into another little room. when he came back, he had the kit in his hand. he opened it, taking out two alcohol pads and a bandage. “this is gonna hurt.” he muttered as he opened a alcohol pad.

“fuck.” you hissed, grabbing ethan’s hand in reflex as ethan placed the alcohol pad on your wound. once ethan was done cleaning the wound he placed a bandage on it. once he looked up at you to see you looking at him with smug look. “what? you want me to kiss your boo boo?” he cooed, teasingly. ethan didn’t earn a reply from you so he leaned down and kissed your leg making you hiss. “you kissed it too hard landry.” you complained. even if you “hated” ethan, the kiss made your heart flutter a bit lot.

“thanks.” you said, lowy. ethan looked at you teasingly with his hand behind his ear, “what? say that again.” he says, acting like he couldn’t hear you. you rolled your eyes before speaking again, “I said thank you, landry.” you huffed.

ethan smiled, knowing he had won. “no problem, I told you I can be nice.” he chuckled.

you scoffed. “could’ve fooled me.” you grinned. ethan then looks down at his hand, noticing you still holding it. “ah you’re still holding my hand.” he says shyly. you muttered a sorry and looked down at your lap. “no it’s okay.” ethan whispered as he got closer to you. you didn’t noticed how close he was until you lifted your head back up to look at him, you could feel his breathing on you face. “look I’m sorry for being a asshole.” he look genuine and apologetic, you couldn’t be mad at that. “it’s okay, I was a bit of an asshole too.” you replied. ethan’s face started to get hot at the closeness between you two. “i-i don’t think I’ve ever been this close to you.” ethan whispered.

you couldn’t take it anymore and leaned forward to capture his lips on your. ethan’s hand comes up to rest on you waist as your hand come up to his hair, raking through it. “fuck.” ethan groaned when he pulls away. “since day one I’ve had a crush on you.” he confesses and you look at him surprisingly.

“I’ve tried to hide it but I can’t get enough of you.” he didn’t even give you time to respond when he smashes his lips against yours with a moan. he then pulls away again to say something else, “and I’m sorry about that time with the volleyball and I’m also sorry about the time I-”

“- just kiss me, landry.” you cut him off with a lustful kiss. you run your fingers through his hair, earning the sinful sounds from him. while you were in the kiss, you trail your other hand to the flashlights that was next you and turned them off so no one could see you two were in there. the kiss started to get steamy as ethan started touching you more. “mm wait ethan, m’all sweaty.” you whined as ethan started to kiss down your neck. “I don’t care.” he says into your neck.

after a little while, you push him back to discard your shirt. “cute bra, but we won’t be needing it.” ethan says. you then unclip the back of your bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. “there, happy?” you smirked at the look on ethan’s face, he looked like a kid in a candy store. “very.” he says before bringing his hands to your tits, massaging them. your head threw back in ecstasy. he then decided to take it up a notch and started sucking on your nipples, earning more sounds from you.

“fuck landry, i guess you could do more things with that mouth than talk sh-” he cuts you off, biting down in your nipple which made you squeal. “take your shorts off, y/n.” he says seriously. you were amused by his tone. “hmm no.” you smirked. ethan scoffed, knowing what you wanted. “you’re really going to make me beg?” you nodded with a smile.

“please y/n, please take off your shorts.” you let out an satisfied hum, lifting your hips to take off your shorts. ethan sucked in his breath when he saw your black lacy underwear. “take that off too.” he groaned when you hooked your finger under the band, pulling them down. ethan then pulls your legs apart to rest onto the table. you gasp when you feel his tongue run across your slit, sliding the flat of it over your clit before swirling around it. you try to do something with your thighs but he has you pinned.

“fucking hell, landry.” you whisper, not wanting to be too loud. your head shoots back as the coil in your stomach starts to get intense. you place your fingers through ethan’s hair, pulling it before he moans into your cunt. he pays extra attention to your clit, sucking and swirling on it. ethan then pulls away, not taking it anymore. “shit bend over.” ethan whines. you do what he says, hoping off the table and bending over it. you hear a buckle rattling as ethan takes off the dumb khakis they made the boys wear. you felt the head of his cock slip through you slit and into your cunt, stretching you out.

“shit landry, you never gave off big dick vibes but i stand corrected.” you moaned as ethan started thrusting at a good pace. he hiked your right leg on the table, making him go deeper. the coil in your stomach started to progressively increase as ethan’s speed increased. “shit.” he grit, clawing at your hips. ethan’s head leaned back with his eyes closed, he was in heaven. “fuck landry, m’gonna cum.” you warned before he increased his thrust, helping you get there. with a couple of fuckfuckfuck’s you came around him, breathing heavily. ethan was right behind you, thrusting like his life depended on it. “holy fuck.” he pulls out, cumming all over your back.

ethan helped you get off the table and kisses you, passionately. “maybe we should sneak out often and have some fun.” you smirked at him, batting your eyelashes. as ethan gets his clothes back on he replies with a nods then leaves to find something to clean the cum off your back.

from then on, you stopped hating him.

[minhosimthings]

A La Folie ft. Jay

Synopsis: Wounds came and went. All in the circle of life am I right? The greatest warrior among all the kings, Park Jay. For him, seeing blood was like seeing the sky. It was a daily routine which he could not escape. Yes sometimes he had grave injuries, which he wouldn't stop to take care of, with him being a workaholic. But sometimes healers do more than heal physical wounds, and for Jay, you did exactly that.

Pairings: King!Jay × healer!fem!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, no smut (yet hehe), mentions of blood, violence, domestic abuse, mentions of cheating, mistresses (don't read it if you can't handle it), mentions of food, Jay has a REALLY tragic past sorry bout that, reader is an orphan, also this is really dramatic IM SORRY I CANT NOT WRITE DRAMA, open ending oohh

A/N: EYYY MR JAY PARK WOOHOO Ngl I was so excited to write this but the exams and all made this kinda difficult to write so if anyone has been waiting for this I'm sorry for the extremely long wait. Also yes this wil be in three parts yay. @yunabi436 this is for you baby 😽

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

The French Quotes Series Masterlist

"And from Aphrodite's rotten lovesick blood did the white flowers turn into a darker shade of red, eternally forming the flower of love."

Aphrodite and the hunter Adonis' tale had been one of boars, blood, lust and love.

For the young king of the iron-kingdom of Vadronia (rightly given its moniker), the only thing he cared about in all of those four things were the boars and the blood.

Jay Park's kingdom wasn't the strongest in all of Paradoxica just in a penny's wish and a flick of a tail feather. It was quote unquote 'molten from iron itself' as all its rulers were.

From all of his brothers, Jay was probably the one who took his duties as a warrior seriously.

Well, a bit too seriously, according to the said brothers.

"Jay would you please stop running so fast?" Sunghoon panted, putting his hands on his knees and breathing heavily as beads of sweat dripped from his hair and skin.

The mud track was always the hardest one to trench upon, and with Jay on your trail? It was hell. Atleast that's what Jake and Sunghoon described it as.

"Are you going to be saying that when you're running from enemy horses?" Jay turned back and glared at Sunghoon, the light autumn breeze giving him peace as it whipped his hair around.

"For God's sake Jay, no one is going to invade us now." Heeseung walked into the scene, with much less sweatier clothes and an arrow clutched in his hand, indicating he had come back from his target practice, "Give the poor guys a break."

"Yes please give us a break I'll go down on my knees." Jake was close to collapsing on the floor, his hand desperately clutching onto the nearby flag pole for support.

"You'd go down on your knees for your best friend." Jay scoffed, throwing his head back to shake the sweat out of his hair follicles, because as glorious as they were, the stray strands still annoyed him, "And you." He turned towards Heeseung, who, even though was much taller than Jay, now looked like a dwarf in front of Jay's broad figure, "How many times do I have to remind you to come for practice?"

"It's not my fault." Heeseung jut out his bottom lip, he always loved acting cute in front of Jay even if he was older, "Little princess back at home has been spying on me. And not gonna lie, I am extremely aroused."

"Why did I even ask?" Jay rolled his eyes and stretched out his arms, the bright burning sun reflecting in his eyes like the moonshine he loved so much, which he drank by the fireplace as he penned down poetry he could show to no one.

"So Jayyyy" Sunghoon dragged his words out, "Felt any sparks lately?"

"Ask that question again and you'll be running twenty laps round this track." Jay promptly replied, cleaning his face with the lavender-smelling towel the nearby servant handed to him. He always loved the lavender scented things, it reminded him of the springs with his mother, oh how she would tease him with tiny flowers in his hair, and the clink of her ruby created dagger in her belt. The dagger lay soulless now, sitting in a secretive place in Jay's room, as he stared at it and remembered that moment again and again. His bastard father, no matter how many times Jay had cursed him, he still couldn't get it out of his mind.

His mother, his compassionate, kind mother, didn't deserve to bleed out from his father's turn of blade.

And no matter how many potions he took, the smell of the blood filled ballroom still lingered in his nose at night, when he would jolt awake in cold sweat, wanting to cling onto his mother, but then he'd remember that he wasn't eight anymore, she was gone.

"Jay you're my brother and I really respect you a lot." Heeseung started, sitting Jay down on the oak bench, while Jake and Sunghoon quietly sneaked out, running for their lives back to their horses, "But you've got to find someone to love in your life, you've got to get over your fear."

"Weren't you the one who was complaining about love to Jake and I a few days ago?" Jay raised a magnificently trimmed brow, to which Heeseung chuckled.

"Yep but then I fell into that rabbit hole and I seem to like it, a bit too much perhaps." Heeseung stared into the distance, instantly losing his dramatic moment as the setting sun hit his pupils.

"Yeah, someday when I'm older maybe." Jay fiddled with his fingers, he never could keep them still, "But for now, I wanted to ask if you'd want to come with me on a hunt tomorrow?"

"A hunt?" Heeseung quizzed, lifting himself with much difficulty off of the bench, bow in hand, "You haven't invited me to a hunt in ages."

"Necessity is the mother of invention." Jay got up as well, scented towel still in hand, "And in this case it's that wild boar our men have been hunting since last month, been terrorizing the border between Tarnow and Vadronia now. I'm surprised you haven't noticed yet."

"Consider me blinded by love." Heeseung threw a flirtatious wink at Jay, who visibly gagged, "I'll be there."

"I'll be waiting."

"No no no, Jay, we, under no circumstances, apply essence of Hibiscus to a water snake's venom." A lady with greying hair sighed, bending over a wooden cup, while a sturdy, black haired man gulped heavily and stared nervously at the herbs in his hand.

Jay was never very successful in his healing classes, and under the strict gaze of his teacher, old Mrs.Chun, he was far away from catching the train of success.

"I don't get it." Jay frowned like a child, setting the hibiscus flower down on the table filled with healing equipments of all kind, "Wasn't the essence of Hibiscus supposed to combat this snake's venom?"

The old lady sighed again and rolled her eyes, snatching the hibiscus from the table and setting it into a basket full of the bright red flowers. With her other hand, she picked up a wicker work basket of lavender and lifted it up to Jay.

"Lavender. I said lavender remember?" She smiled up at Jay like an encouraging teacher, "Lavender for the wounds which make a man turn purple, and hibiscus for the blood drops."

Jay mumbled the rule under his mouth before pressing the lavender petals to the venom splanched across the bown om front of him. The purplish colour immediately turned a healing shade of dark yellow, satisfying Jay and letting out a sigh of relief from the old lady.

"Just some more practice and patience and you'll be a good healer in no time." Mrs. Chun patted Jay's arm sympathetically.

"But why do I even need to be a healer?" Jay asked curiously, putting the box of potions up on the shelf where they belonged, "I'm already a warrior."

"Every great warrior needs to know how to tend to his own wounds." The old lady smiled, looking curiously at a green flask, "I made a vow to your mother to never let you fail in this subject."

Jay smiled fondly at the thought of his mother spending her hours in the infirmary along with Mrs. Chun. Mrs. Chun herself was like his mother figure, providing him the hugs his 14 year old self needed so bad years ago.

"And remember Jay!" Mrs. Chun called out just as Jay was about to leave the room, "I won't be here for the entirety of next month."

"But then who's going to look after the infirmary?" Jay turned back and raised a quizzical brow at Mrs.Chun, who smiled gently.

"My apprentice will." She promptly replied, "She's a nice girl, I told her all about your predicament of failing at healing." Jay let out a chuckle at Mrs.Chun's joke, "She'll take your classes alright?"

"Don't miss me too much Mrs.Chun!" Jay laughed, "I'm your favourite remember?"

Mrs.Chun laughed heartily to herself. Oh that boy, she thought, still a bit at heart even if he was a man to the world.

Only a bit of love perhaps, can truly lead him to show this side of him to the world.

Jay sighed heavily as he plopped down on his armchair, the most comfortable one by the fire.

Love, he scoffed, what a stupid, dangerous thing.

He believed his father to love his mother, he believed his mother to love his father even as he went out every night to quote unquote 'find himself'. Mistresses were awful buisness, and no Queen had ever objected her king having one. But of course, his mother had to object, she had to be different. She had to storm in to her husband and his lover and confront them. And his father, fire-filled man he was, had to strike a blade through her belly, making her bleed out in 14 year old Jay's arms.

And of course, Jay, blinded by his rage, had to strike his father back, skilled as his father was, Jay was more fleet footed, and in the blink of an eye, his father and his father's new toy were lying in cold blood on the floor, as Jay sobbed, clutching his mother's body, dead as a fish out of the ocean.

And his brothers had noticed, they had always noticed how Jay was never the same from that day. From the happy boy who loved to write stories and poetry and who hated to even step foot in the training yard, Jay became the mercenary king, ready with his sword clutched in hand, and his poems long forgotten to silence and withering darkness.

But it wasn't to say that Jay was a ruthless ruler, he chose not to take that path, especially not after half the kingdom starved under the rule of his father. It wouldn't have been a lie to say he was the kindest one in all of Paradoxica, except he didn't really show it in the way he spoke or acted, but by the way he controlled the administration and whatnot of the kingdom. This kept his busy, seldom leaving time for any other activities, much to the disappointment of his brothers, especially Heeseung, who had always been the closest to him, who had known what he was truly like, deep inside.

Clutching his eagle feather quill, one of his most dearest ones, Jay dipped the tip into his ink pot, letting the excess ink dry off before pressing it to his leather bound diary.

When he wrote the feelings he couldn't ever say out loud onto the softwood paper, Jay felt a sort of contentment, he had always been a clandestine philophile, so to write his proses on the idea of love, death and misery, was to create a beautiful choreography on his mindset.

Alas, if there was only someone he could show them to, someone who would understand what Jay meant in the lines, even with his messy loopy calligraphy, that would have been a dream truly come true.

But how could a man who wrote poems to challenge the angels of love themselves, ever find love?

But I am a mere narrator, what would I know?

And sometimes, just sometimes, Cupid lurked in the ballrooms of dancing princes and in the dark inkpots of oxymoronic kings.

"I have no idea what's happening, but I'm happy to be here." Sunghoon's beautiful Clydesdale horse pranced around on the grass, as energetic and as similar a persona as her owner.

"Would you tell her to calm down?" Heeseung's own chestnut's hooves guided him towards Sunghoon, "She needs the energy for the hunt." Heeseung easily managed to calm the mare down by scratching behind her eyes, to which Sunghoon drooped since he had been enjoying the prancing around a bit too much.

"Why are we going on a hunt again?" Jake adjusted his saddle, making sure he was buckled in properly to his Fox Trotter horse, "Aren't we above killing animals now?"

"Your best friend tell you that?" The clip clopping of Jay's magnificent Dutch Warmblood sent all of the soldiers to silence, "And if the animal is a wild boar, no we aren't above that."

"Whatever you say, oh great King." Sunghoon snickered, as he did a sort of bow on his horse, making everyone laugh.

"Oh shut up." Jay rolled his eyes, clutching onto his horse's hair, and leaning into his usual stance, "Come on now, don't want to keep a beauty waiting do we?" And with the mighty neigh of his horse, he rode off into the forest, followed by Heeseung, Jake and Sunghoon, who followed with dramatic sighs.

"Sometimes I wonder if he just wants to live in an adventure book and say cringey lines all the time." Sunghoon jested, making the others laugh.

"Where on earth is Sunoo?" Jay shouted out, completely ignoring the statement made about him, as the rest of the three managed to catch up to his horse's pace.

"Probably tending to his vineyard." The wind whipped Jake's hair around, "God knows if he'd ever accept coming to a hunt with us."

"Maybe a grape hunt-"

"Shh!"

Jay's action of stopping his horse, and shushing everyone startled the others, and as the clopping of hooves quietened down, they understood why Jay had stopped so abruptly.

The rustling of the nearby begonia bushes, combined with the noises of an animal which sounded extremely similar to a wild boar, alerted them, as they drew out their swords, daggers and metal tipped arrows, all from treasure chest of Vadronia's amazing metalwork, aiming them at the begonia bushes, as Jay held up his closed fist to give the command.

"Come on out." Jay whispered to no one in particular but himself, as the begonia bushes began shaking more rapidly and the sounds of an animal's footsteps came nearer.

"Hey maybe we should-" Heeseung bagan quietly to Jay, but was interrupted by the ripping of the begonias into shreds.

And there it was, what Jay had been waiting for.

A big wild boar in its full magnificence.

Ivory tusks in full gleam, swathes of brown fur all over its damaged skin, with wounds from previous hints. A ture display of its strength, Jay thought, it wanted to intimidate them, as if to say 'see how many people haven't defeated me yet, why do you think you stand a chance?'.

"Steady now, Lady." Jay patted his horse, which was ever so graciously named Lady, although the mare's personality in battle was far away from a lady's. Jay always preferred mares to horses, he though they were more faster and agile, while horses used their brute strength. And he had a hatred from brute strength. It was what got her killed after all.....

"Jake look out!" Heeseung cried out, snapping Jay out of his daze of staring into the boar's eyes. Of all the animals of the world, he hated this one the most, he hated the way his father loved to hunt them, and how he'd come home from hunts everyday drenched in blood with a boar skull im his hands, from which his mother would recoil from, what with her hatred of the smell of iron.

Hatred, that's all that was there in Jay's life. And that's all there will be.

"Jay, we have to get back come on!" Sunghoon cried, his horse already galloping away. The boar was far too big for them to contain. "Jay?" Heeseung peered back, "Jay no!"

But the sturdy built man's ears heeded no warning as he stepped along to the boar, his sword clutched tightly in hand, the carving of his name in the metal shining bright, as if to warn the spirit of the forest that he has arrived.

"Hyung what's happe-" Jake and Sunghoon's horses had turned back to see why the eldest wasn't coming, only to see Jay stabbing at the boar, while Heeseung tried to get Lady, who was close to prancing away into the depths of the forest.

"Help me would ya!" Heeseung cried, flinging his rope around Lady's magnificent neck, to which Sunghoon and Jake came quick and flung their own ropes, "One of you help Jay!"

"I'll go!" Sunghoon's horse galloped towards Jay, but to his shock, he saw that the boar was already lying, its movements still, and Jay standing drenched in blood.

It was dead.

Jay's sword was decorated with ribbons of maroon.

"Jay what the..." Sunghoon began, but he could find no words. The boar had been big, two times the size and strength of any ordinary man, and now it was kneeling at Jay's command, kneeling dead and cold as a fish.

"It's dead." Jay growled, his breathing too heavy, and his hand clutching a particularly dark spot on his stomach, as Heeseung and Jake came to the scene, having calmed Lady down, "The tusk...."

"The tusk? What about the- Jay!" Heeseung cried, before jumping off his horse and quickly moving towards Jay's graceful falling figure.

The last thing Jay felt was the feeling of wet grass underneath his head, Heeseung's hand over his wrist, and the familiar scent of feminine lavender pressing over him before everything went dark as he had always wished for it to be.

Jay never cared much about his injuries. No matter how big or small they were, no matter if it was a paper cut to the thumb or an arrow head to the shoulder, he would simply say "Injuries happen, it's a part of life" and move on. Which proved to be a source of annoyance for his brothers, especially Jake, who had an eye for healing.

But Jay was a firm believer in the notion that twenty four hours a day simply wasn't enough. He wanted more, he craved for more, more time, more work. Although he wouldn't admit it, everyone was in unison with the fact that he was Paradoxica's biggest workaholic.

And when it came back to the topic of injuries, Jay would still keep working, whether or not he was stuck in bed, because Heeseung had forced him to stay there.

Heeseung remembered Jay's younger days. How Jay would whine and do nothing if he got even the tiniest splinter in his finger. How he would beg for a day off from studies if he merely stubbed his tie against the kitchen ladder while sneaking out to steal pastries. But the horrible incident had changed every aspect of Jay, and now, he wouldn't stop working if every limb in his body was broken.

"All for the good of the people" he reasoned.

Usually Mrs.Chun had taken care of him, scolded him too many times about taking rests whenever he'd come back from battles or fights with blood flowing out his nose. But even then he didn't care. So the vision of waking up to Mrs.Chun's berry scent was a norm for him whenever he'd get injured.

But now, the room wasn't berry scented, and nor was Mrs. Chun sitting in the corner, waiting for him to wake up.

A girl?

A girl, wearing Mrs.Chun's apron, had her head rested against his table, her eyes fluttered close.

Were his eyes tricking him or did Mrs.Chun suddenly become thirty years younger?

Feeling something heavy on his waist, Jay tried to lift his head from his pillow, letting out a guttural groan as he did. God what was hurting him so much? He could feel something hurting at his stomach.

"Your Majesty, lie back down." He heard someone say, and as he opened his eyes, he saw the girl bending over him, forcing him to lie back down on the bed.

Jay stared at her for a few moments, trying to remember who she is before the candle went off in his mind.

The apprentice.

You were Mrs.Chun's apprentice.

"Are you Mrs.Chun's apprentice?" Jay groaned, feeling his head throb and his fingers were aching too.

You nodded promptly, before pushing Jay gently back onto the bed as he tried to get back.

"I'm sorry to inform you, Your Majesty, but you aren't getting up for another two weeks. You were stabbed by a wild boar's tusk." You stated firmly, shocking Jay at how casually you had addressed him, "His Highness Heeseung told me to handcuff you to the bed if you even try to move."

"Handcuff me?" Jay chuckled, moving his body slightly to lessen the pressure on his legs, "Where are you even going to get-"

Jay's sentence was cut off abruptly as your hands pulled out a pair of heavy metal from a secret pocket in the olive green dress you were wearing, and held it in front of Jay, effectively silencing him.

"I'm sorry if that was rude, but you are my patient, Your Majesty.." Your mouth let out a chuckle, sending a weird sensation into Jay's stomach, which he had never felt before, "So, I will do anything and everything in order to make you rest."

"So what may I address you by, My lady?" Jay quizzed you, his head now no longer throbbing for some reason. He studied your features for a while, he thought your eyes were pretty, decorated by a thin lining of kohl. Your figure was pretty too, wrapped in the striking colour of the dress you were in, combined with the beautifully familiar way you wore your hair.

"Definetly not by 'My lady'." You chuckled, picking up your dress, and sinking into a curtsy, "Y/N, you may call me Y/N, Your Majesty."

"Pretty name." Jay complemented, watching you stand up straight from your curtsy and smile impishly at him.

"You've got to take your medicine now." You reached into your apron's pocket and pulled a big vial, which was filled with a bubbling, golden liquid, "Now, according to Mrs.Chun, tricks by pretty people often work on you."

"Pretty people?" Jay scoffed childishly, thinking about whether or not he thought Heeseung was pretty, as you measured out the liquid into a cup, "Mrs.Chun needs to have a check for up there. And do you really think you're pretty?"

You strode towards him with the cup in your hand, and smiled widely. "Well, pardon me Your Majesty, but from the way you were staring at me five minutes ago, yes. I do think I'm pretty."

"Don't get your ego up." Jay warned, taking the cup from you, letting his mind linger for a few minutes on how your delicate fingers brushed his scarred ones softly, "Your parents mus'nt have taught you manners did they?"

"Well, firstly, I don't have parents." You smiled, "And secondly I need to check your bandages, they seem to be bleeding again."

So that was what the pain radiating from his stomach was, Jay thought, as he looked down to see his bandages streaked a darker shade of red. He quickly gulped down the golden liquid in the cup, a visibly disgusted expression forming on his face at how bitter it was, and looked up at you, with widened eyes.

"So...?" He said, expectantly, seeing you fumble with some clean cloth, another vial of what looked like cream, and a safety pin.

"Tell me where it hurts when I change them alright?" You said gently, making his lay down on the bed again, "and uh..."

"What?" Jay questioned, seeing your eyes linger at his wound or more specifically, his ab muscles, "Oh you can touch them it's fine."

"Oh. Oh yeah alright." You said, feeling your face heat up slightly. Bandaging him when he was still unconscious was easier than this, when he was awake. God his stare was so attractive to you, even now, as you gently touched his bandages, replacing them with cleaner cloth, you tried hard not to brush your fingers against his abs.

"Enjoying the view?" Jay asked, a cockish sneer to his voice. "There's a view to enjoy Your Majesty?" You fired back, although you most certainly were enjoying staring at him.

"You're an interesting one." Jay said, trying to make small talk as you lightly pressed against the smaller wounds with the cream, "Y/N wasn't it?"

"Yep." You said with a pop of your lips, finishing wrapping his wounds with a slight tap to check if they were secure, "And please do stay in bed and don't work. If you need anything, I'm right outside. His highness Heeseung has told me to rest in the chambers opposite yours."

The chambers opposite to his, his parents' chambers. God did Jay hate that room, all big and filled with skulls from hunts.

"If you want to you can go home, I can manage on myself." Jay said, his eyes set on yours. Why was it so hard to maintain eye contact with you?

"I know how that idea works." You smiled again, bringing that weird sensation back into Jay's stomach, "I'll go and then you'll order someone to bring you your work, so His Highness Heeseung specifically asked me not to leave. I guess you're stuck with me Your Majesty." You curtsied to finish off the impression.

"Jay." He spoke again, to your confusion, which made him stifle a chuckle, "Please, call me Jay."

"Jay." You smiled to yourself, "Well, ring that bell if you need anything."

As you left the room, quietly shutting the door behind you, Jay had the sudden urge to kick his feet in the air. The room was filled with lavender scent, your lavender scent to be specific, and it gave Jay a sense of calm, which in turn reduced the pain radiating from his stab wound.

Well this would be an interesting two weeks.

"Your Majesty what on Earth are you doing?"

Jay froze in his position at hearing a stern voice. Your stern voice, to be precise.

"Resting?" He said, trying to hide his cheeky smile, as he slowly backed away from his table. Rolling your eyes, you quickly got him back to the bed, worried that his bandages will open back again. But the only thing Jay was worried about was that his work wasn't getting completed.

"How about this?" You asked, as you finally managed to wrestle him back to the bed, "I'll do the work for you, if you agree to rest. It's in that diary right?"

"I can't let you do that." Jay grumbled, reaching for your arm, as you hurried to get to the diary on his table. The cold touch of his hand on your warmer skin made you flinch heavily, which in turn made Jay pull his hand away.

"I'm sorry." Jay quickly apologised, as you rubbed your arm, "I- That's my private diary, I don't really allow people to see it."

"Oh, my apologies then." You curtsied, still rubbing your arm, feeling extremely cold for some reason, even if the warm daylight was coming into the room through the window, "Your Majesty-"

"Jay." He corrected, shooting you the tiniest fragment of a smile.

"Jay." You said again, this time feeling more at ease, "You've got to rest, I'm begging you. Those bandages won't magically heal you until you rest. If there's anything I can do to get you to rest, I'll do it."

Jay's ears weren't actually listening to anything. His mind was too distracted again, by your scent. God damn his strong sense of smell, but you smelled like memories he wanted to forget.

"Tell me what perfume you use and then I won't work." Jay looked up at you with a cheeky smile. He didn't know why, but he felt comfortable to show you his smile, which he didn't often feel with the ladies in their paraffin socks.

"I- that's a peculiar question." You said, not knowing what to feel aboutthe actual King asking you about your perfume.

"I swear on my own grave that I will rest if the great healer Y/N tells me her perfume." Jay recited, keeping his hand on his chest for dramatic effect.

"It's the lavender one we get in the town square from Marcella's." You raised your chin up high, "Now would you rest?"

"Hmmm let me think." Jay dramatically sighed, "No."

"Your Majesty, I will beg." You breathed desperately, "I will seriously-"

"Your collarbone." Jay interrupted, his attention diverting from your eyes to your shoulder, "There's something on your collarbone."

Jay took note of the way your eyes flickered quickly and worriedly to your collarbone, and how you rushed to pull the sleeve of your dress up to cover it, clearing your throat afterwards to clear the awkward air.

"Are you-"

"Your Majesty, I admire the way you hold so much strivance for your work but you really must rest if you wish to keep working for the rest of your life."

The atmosphere of the room had a drastic change, Jay could feel it, as you quickly curtsied, said a quick "excuse me" and hurried off towards the exit.

That wasn't a stain or a birth mark on your shoulder Jay knew it, as he leant back comfortably, and decided to follow your advice for a while.

He'd seen dark marks like that on someone he once knew and loved.

And something in him asked him not to rest (unless it was pretending for you) until he figured out where that bruise the size of a man's hand, came from.

Part 2 coming soon....

Tags: @amazzwon @heeseungshim @kvmariii @mwahvvis @hottiewifeyyyy @sacrificeatmeup @perfectnighttt @yawnzzhoon @yunabi436

[just-some-random-blogger]

10 Second Elder

The Blonde Boys Club

Daemon Targaryen x Sorceress!Reader, Geralt of Rivia & Sister!Reader

Summary: Yeah, so your twin tried to kill Caraxes and now you have to convince his rider, the mother fucking Prince, that it was all a misunderstanding (it was not).

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: THE ONLY INCEST IN THIS IS THE CANON TARGARYEN INCEST ALRD IN HOTD OTHERWISE MISS ME WITH THAT BULLSHIT, fem!reader, witcher!twins, reader is kinda a witcher lol, I describe reader's hair and eye color, crack fic, typos, etc.

A/N: I JUST GOT A BUNCH OF IDEAS FOR THESE BLONDES AND OTHER FICTIONAL BLONDES PLEASE IM SO EXCITED TO WRITE THIS ??? SERIES???? (dont quote me on that, idk what it is) ASKFL:AFHALS:F. AND SHHH whatever plothole you have for the witcher!twins, just, just, roll with it i beg also I'm tagging @lexi-anastasia HI!! i actually thought of this prompt cos of your display pic. IDK IF YOU EVEN LIKE hotd but i hope you like this for the witcher!twins LOL I'm also tagging @avaleineandafryingpan because they reblogged my the blonde boys club post T_T (mahal kita) and of course @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda P2 "Dry Humor"

Geralt had smelt it in the air before anything else. He had his bow in his hand, drawn and ready. His stance was low. The steps he took against the leaf covered ground barely made a sound.

He straightened himself up when he saw an opening and pulled his arrow all the way.

When a gust of wind blew, he inhaled deeply, now certain of his opponent. A dragon.

Geralt inhaled deeply as the beast shifted in the spot it was laying. He saw the saddle on it, scoffing. Suddenly things were clearer as to why a dragon would be out in the open, so exposed. It was also clear that whoever the rider was did not care about how their ride had ravaged the nearby farm and village.

He knew his arrow would barely injure the creature, if it could pierce its skin at all, and yet he shot at its curled neck anyway.

No avail. The thing didn't even flinch.

Geralt purses his lips as he redraws his weapon. The dragon shifts again and this time, Geralt's golden eyes see an opening, quite literally an opening by the rib, just below the saddle.

The sound of the string tensing fills the witcher's ears. He narrows his eyes as he adjusts in his spot to further assess the wound, as well as to properly get an opening.

He notes how the injury was a not new, and yet it was still healing. He tries to listen in on the heartbeat, but even with how large it was, it was still too far for him to hear anything.

He withdraws a bit of tension from his bow, enough for it to still reach the dragon, but only to cause it discomfort, not really to reopen its wound, to rile the beast up enough for it to want to leave with its rider.

Geralt draws in a deep breath and releases it along with his arrow.

The dragon roars and rises from its place once the arrow hits its side.

Dramatic, if you asked him. Geralt was certain it didn't hurt as much as the thing was making it out to be.

As the dragon whined, Geralt unsheathed his blade and surveyed the area, listening in on the rider that would inevitably come next.

He inches closer to the dragon, by its tail, and soon enough he hears quick footsteps and frantic breathing.

When he turns over his shoulder to the source of the sound, the wound tension in his shoulders relaxes a fraction, then tenses again at the shrill whisper-yell.

"What the fuck did you just do?" I demand, throwing the severed head I had in my grip off to the side as I readied my sword in my hand as I went into a defensive stance, "we came for the monster I already slain."

"This thing is the reason why the village burned."

"And you think you can kill it!?"

"No, but its rider will get the message."

I lower my sword, in utter disbelief of what I was hearing, "you think it has a rider?!"

Geralt narrows his eyes, "It has a rider," he corrects, "I shot at its open wound below its saddle."

"THEN YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!" I seethe, gritting my teeth, raising my sword again. Geralt watches me as I stalk closer to the dragon. I catch the way he knit his brows, and it makes my eyes twitch, "you don't know what it means."

Geralt nears me and I elbow him to the chest, "motherfucker."

All at once, the dragon is alerted by our presence.

The massive creature stands on its legs and growls at us.

I feel him, the dragon. I feel his regality, his tie to his rider, and his distress over the arrow. He knows it was one of us that caused it. He draws in a deep breath, ready to burn us both, along with the entire forest.

I drop my sword and I raise my hand, speaking in the dragon's tongue, "calm yourself."

Geralt measures my reaction and is unconvinced by both the language I am speaking, and the fact I disarmed myself.

"We mean you no harm, your grace," I call out, slowly walking over to the dragon.

He screeches and shakes his head.

"You think it can understand you?" Geralt grunts, tensing his jaw as he brings his weapon higher.

The dragon does not appreciate this one bit.

"Just because you don't doesn't mean he doesn't," I quip.

Geralt does not care and pulls out an elixir from his pocket, quickly downing it.

"You fucking idiot! We are not-"

All at once, a command is shouted, "DRACARYS!"

Without thinking, before fire could leave his jowls, Geralt shoots chaos, causing the dragon's head to shoot up and his fire to burn above overhead.

"LYKIRI!" I repeat the same High Valyrian command to the dragon. As his head downturns, the flames he breathed ceases.

Before I realize what is happening, I hear a man shout out as he charges, "WITCH!"

Geralt blocks my view of the incoming assaulter as well as his sword that was sword meant to slay me, "Witcher."

Their weapons skid against the other's. They are upon each other, attacking aggressively, as though their lives depended on it. The dragon grows, restless in the background.

"GERALT, STOP!" I scream as my brother's silver hair swooshes in the air, as does his equally blonde opponent's. My stomach drops at the sight of him, at the sight of the man who bore all indications of a Targaryen prince.

They charge at each other, stepping forward and back, metal crashing against metal. And for a moment, the long haired prince' anger gave him the upper hand, but I knew how Geralt was evading him; he was pulling his punches, but not for long.

I decide to divert my attention to the distressed dragon, finally seeing his saddle, and the arrow stuck to his side like a thorn he could not get out.

He does not like the fact I am quickly nearing him and snaps his teeth at me.

"Do not be insolent," I quip in High Valyrian at the creature, lifting my head up to him with his hand, "I am here to help you."

I could feel my pulse quicken as I make my way to his side.

I decide it's enough that he has not yet killed me for getting this close to him.

"Calm yourself, boy," I mutter under my breath, as I reach up to the arrow on his side. The dragon does a clicking noise, and I do not have time whether to debate it is a warning or a cry for help.

Without another thought, I pull out the arrow with a grunt. The beast whines then withdraws a long breath. I turn to him as it cranes it neck to do the same to me I drop the arrow coated with his blood in front of him. I raise my hands, "it is done."

"CARAXES, DR-"

"Shut the fuck up."

So that's his name. Now who would be his rider?

I turn to Geralt, whimpering in annoyance and dread. I watch him dig his knee on the man's back as he pulls his arm behind him, causing him to yelp. Caraxes rises at the sight of his overcome rider, screeching just as the prince pants beneath my brother on the ground.

Geralt makes a face and shuts his eyes when dragon spit splatters on his face. He clenches his jaw and mutters, "lyriki, beast."

"You do not even know what that means," I retort, "and get off him."

"You do understand that the only reason why that thing hasn't killed us is because its rider is under my knee."

"FUCK OFF!" the said rider growls.

Caraxes responds to this with yet another ear piercing cry.

Through all this, I suddenly remember the name I was looking for, "Aemon! Aemon. Caraxes' rider is Aemon."

Geralt makes a face, realizing what I meant, "you're telling me this is Aemon Targaryen?"

"Well, do you see anyone else commanding the dra-"

"CARAXES-" breaks into a yelp.

"We are having a discussion," Geralt leans down as he growls.

"Geralt," I quip tightly, "get off him," I step closer to the both of them, "now."

The black of Geralt's eyes begin to fade once I am directly in front of him. I kneel down on his side and meet the telltale violet of the eyes of the prince. They narrow when they meet the violet hue of my own.

"You must forgive my younger brother for his insolence, my prince," I mutter as I swat Geralt by his thigh.

He rolls his eyes and finally gets of his captive, "ah yes, older sister," he mocks.

"Time is time and blood is blood," I retort as I eye him before helping the prince from where he laid.

"I remember," the Witcher mutters, "High Valyrian. An elective."

I smirk as I turn back at him, "one you did not take."

"Yes," he sighs as he stands, motioning to his side, "language of the dragons."

"Old Valyria," I correct as I help the prince, who was catching his breath, rolls over, "the Tar-

"Targaryen," he says, heaving, as he falls to his back. He reaches his hand out to me. I knit my brows at him as his fingers find my cheek.

Geralt looks down at him with contempt, lips curling in disgust, "watch your fingers, prince, or you might lose them."

I grunt, "I've quite had enough of you," I snap, rising to my feet. "You have been insufferable since we got here-"

"You're one to talk, little girl," Geralt eyes me darkly.

I crane towards his, "you do understand the consequences of-" I cut myself off when the prince stands to his feet. I change languages, "he is the prince of the seven kingdoms, heir to the throne."

"You whisper this to me as if I have ever cared, sister," he replies in Elder Speech.

"You should," Aemon responds as he looks between us.

We turn to him.

"You know Elder Speech?" I question, narrowing my brows.

He smirks at me, as he brushes his shoulder off, "an elective," he offers, "though I admit I only understood the word prince and guessed what you were saying." He tilts his head, "it seems my intuition has not failed me yet."

Geralt hums deeply and steps forward, "but it did when you misjudged me and allowed me an opening to strike you."

Aemon lifts his gaze upon my brother, whatever smirk that was on his face fades away.

"Enough!" I grunt, pushing them away with chaos.

A gush of wind rips between them.

My brother, who is used to it, steps back once, but the prince reels back and falls to his hind. I quickly extend my hand out to him and flash a guilty look, "apologies."

He looks at me for a moment before taking my hand, "Daemon."

"What?"

I pull him up as he repeats, "Prince Daemon, son of Prince Baelon, brother of Prince Aemon."

"Ah," I nod as I pull away from him. He steps forward when I do and watches me as I respond, "you are Aemon's nephew. His second rider. I will do well to remember, Prince Daemon."

"Indeed," he mutters with a soft smile.

I am pulled back by my arm and wind up crashing against Geralt's armor.

I look up at him he roughly swats the white streaks of my black hair away from my face that consequently was flying up to his because of the wind. He warns me in Nilfgaardian, "focus."

"Do not speak to me as though it is you who has a plan to get us out of this mess," I quip back in the same tongue.

"It would be easy to kill him and make it look like an accident."

I roll my eyes and shake my head.

"So, you are a witch," Daemon cuts in, making both of us turn to him.

"Witcher."

"Sorceress," I correct as I pull away from my brother.

"And what house do you belong to?" the prince asks, tenting his hands before him.

Just then, the dragon who we seemed to have forgotten, makes himself known and cries out to his master.

Daemon raises a dismissive hand and swats his away, sparing him only a second's glace. My brother and I watch as Caraxes huffs and rolls into himself, closing his eyes without another care.

Interesting.

"Kaer Morhen," I say, although questioningly, as I turn to my brother, "perhaps for me, I suppose, Aretuza."

"But Vesemir gave you your name as well."

"Yes, well, in that case, I do su-"

"And who are your parents?" Daemon interjects, tone less curious, and more impatient.

"Now that is the question indeed," Geralt grunts, then once again when I elbow him roughly.

"He's being serious."

"I know he's being serious, look at him."

"Why do you ask, prince?" I shake my head, stepping towards the said man.

Daemon examines me intently, so much so that, had I not been used to such scrutiny, I would have broken eye contact in discomfort. "Your eyes," he trails off as he peers down upon me, "are Targaryen's."

"Ah," my jaw drops. I find a chuckle leave me. "Much like his white hair is," I say, pointing to Geralt. I snort and slap a hand on his arm, "brother, you never told me we were secretly royalty."

He hums, nostrils flaring, "slipped my mind."

I chuckle to myself as I turn back to the prince. I watch as his jaw clenches and will my amusement to evaporate with my sigh, "tis not royalty that made our features so, prince Daemon, but the cruelty of magic. My own hair burns with white streaks because of his," I say.

"And what good is that knowledge to him?" Geralt makes a face as he turns to me.

"Well," I turn back to him, "he asked, did he not?"

"He did not ask you about your hair, any more than his dragon did."

"This is exactly why you have no friends."

"And you say that as though it is a bad thing."

"And you two are blood siblings?" Daemon cuts yet again.

We turn to him.

A moment passes.

The insinuation of the idea we could be anything else with our dynamic brings the familiar shiver down our spines.

"It gets no less revolting through time," Geralt mutters, "much less, knowing the traditions of his house."

I ignore his comment as I clear my throat, "twins, your grace, and I the el-."

Daemon ignores me, averting his attention to Geralt now, "you mention the traditions my house, and yet it seems you are unaware of how it is in my nature to seek satisfaction."

"Hmm," Geralt's brows quirk, "I would too, if my arse got handed to me."

I step in between them before Daemon could lunge. Because of this, I am trapped between the chests of the two hot headed blondes.

"Move," Geralt warns me, although his eyes do not leave Daemon.

"My prince," I ignore him, grabbing onto the fabric Daemon's arms, "you must forgive my baby brother."

Daemon dryly scoffs, eyes not leaving Geralt, "he'll have to get on his knees, my dear."

"You mean my soft belly-"

I shut him up with a gesture and heave, "it is a misunderstanding that we find ourselves in."

Daemon watches as Geralt struggles; he is unable to open his lips.

The prince's eyes finally turn back to me, they glimmer with mischief, "a misunderstanding, you say."

"I should like to treat you to a pint, if you would allow me the honor, so that I may... explain our predicament," I offer a soft smile. I feel my brother move from behind me, and so I shove him away with chaos, lest he shove me away to batter the prince in silence.

Daemon watches as Geralt propels back and hits a tree. By then, my incantation is lifted and so a string of curses leave his lips.

"That depends on whether or not your twin will be joining us."

"If you would prefer only one of us to drink with you, then I shall make it happen."

"Like hell, you would!"

"Then I will hear your explanation for this terrible altercation."

[grapesplease]

bleed me out and hang me to dry

astarion x male! drow! bard! tav

an. sequel to i love you (i'm sorry) its the 3+1 trope! :D full of oc info and astarion fluff! i love these bastards to death! also egregious use of random star shit i learned, probably not dnd lore compliant but wtv

cw. mentions of past torture and abuse

“Why are you giving me that look?”

“You’re really going to help me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” The elf gives Altair a confused look, wondering what was going on in his head, “You, the bleeding heart that you are, promised everyone here help with their problems, and yet you think I wouldn’t help you fight some drow?”

“No? You have no obligation to help me, you don’t get anything out of it.” Altair has an incredulous look on his face, “You- What do you get out of helping me?"

wc. 7.4k

-

1.

Altair let out sharp hiss of pain as Astarion applies a salve to his knee. His pant leg is rolled high, and he knows that he has to roll it higher for Astarion to properly help him.

The elf is kneeled down in front of him; they had just been through a fight with a nasty group of goblins, and Shadowheart was fresh out of magic to heal him. So now his partner (whatever their relationship was) was treating him the old fashioned way, with good ole’ bandages and salve.

He wants to keep his old scar hidden, and against his better judgment, he considers doing it. Thinking that fighting the next few days in pain would be fine.

“Not like it's something I haven't done before..”

“Would you be a dear and roll up your pants a bit more?” The elf asks, glancing up at him through his lashes. “I need to just finish treating you, I promise that no kind of carnal lust is on my mind right now.”

He hesitates, but reluctantly listens to him. There’s a brand on his thigh, given to him by his dear friend Ariadne. A little reminder of how he could never truly escape her, and that he’d never forget who he belonged to.

He could never forget the pain of searing hot metal.

It was a constellation, Ariadne told him that it had the star he was named after in it. She had told him it was a present for being the new quote on quote, “rising star” in the ring. (A bit on the nose, if you ask him.)

He hated how she had said it back then, now that he was seeing everything in retrospect. “Rising star,” his ass! He was just trying to fucking survive! How could she say that like it was an accomplishment, like he should be proud of killing people? When he was barely breathing after every fight?

She was the one who was bringing him back from near death every time, broken bones healing back together and cuts closing in an instant weren't new to him. Ariadne was the one who kept him in the fight, whether he liked it or not.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by Astarion, who’d started lightly tracing over the scar. Altair flinches, his body stiffening. His gaze meets Astarion’s, and his breath hitches. It wasn’t like he'd never seen it, he just never disclosed who exactly gave him that scar, or what it meant to him.

“I never told you how I got that brand, did I?”

Astarion sighs, bandaging up his leg and setting the salve aside, “No, you never did.” He traces over the exposed skin, thin lines connected with pinprick dots. It was intricate, clear that much thought went into it. “Were you tortured by an astrologer? You have one too many space themed scars, love.”

It wasn't a lie, he had a few tattoos of various constellations, along with a few more star-shaped scars on his back. His jewelry box of star themed earrings and necklaces didn't help much, either.

He chuckles in response, “She really loved the history of my name, apparently.” His eyes look up to the night sky, and he motions for Astarion to sit next to him.

“There it is,” He points to a collection of stars, “the Aquila constellation. It's shaped kind of like an arrow, and the one at the top, the brightest one, is the star I’m named after.”

“How poetic.” Astarion comments, he supposes that it's fitting, as Altair had been a consistent beacon of hope for him. “What does it symbolize?”

“The constellation represents strength,” Altair replies, “I assume my father wanted me to be strong, knowing the hell he left me to live in.”

He shudders, remembering the things he had to do to survive in the Underdark. It was times like these where he cursed his elven memory, wishing he couldn't remember every fight he's ever had, every scar he’d ever gotten.

He wishes he didn't have to remember the desperate looks of his opponents. He knows that the same desperation was mirrored in his eyes.

His guilt doesn’t make him feel any better, but he hopes it serves as some kind of penance. After all, they were the same as him, people who were victims of sick games that drow nobility used to entertain themselves.

“He left me in the Underdark, so that he could live up on the surface with my mother.” Altair says, “They were happy, according to him, but my mother was killed by monsters a few years after they left me.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Astarion replies, moving to hold Altair’s hand, his fingers running over the back of it. “They traded your freedom for theirs, that's awfully unfair.”

“An eye for an eye, I suppose."

Altair thinks back to when he first got to Baldur’s Gate after escaping the Underdark. He met his dad there, peacefully idling away at a book. Oh, how angry he was to find out that the man that had abandoned him was just living his life, acting like there was nothing wrong in the world.

He remembers that one of the first things he did was slap him, and cuss him out. Gods, he was almost dragged away to jail before his father stopped the soldiers. His father let out endless apologies, but all he thought at the time was that his father looked pathetic.

The next thing he did was ask him questions. “Why did you leave me?” “Why didn't you try to save me?” “What made you think this was fair to me?” “Why did you put me through that?” “Do you regret it?”

“Did you ever miss me?”

They’ve talked since then, argued, apologized, the whole nine yards. He's reconciled with his father, but he doesn't think he can ever forgive him for leaving him in the Underdark. Nothing can ever convince him that his father did the right thing, or that it was the only thing his father could’ve done.

“A woman named Ariadne gave that scar to me,” He admits, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck, “She was the first person I ever befriended down there, she's the one I thought would help me escape. Unfortunately, she sold me out for the mere chance of gaining power.”

“Was she the one who made you become a gladiator?”

“No, but she did sponsor many of my fights, and a lot of my cosmetics.” He motions to the myriad of star-related tattoos on his body. “These tattoos were one of them, along with..” He tucks his hair behind his right ear, revealing how half is cut off, “This lovely parting gift.”

“Couldn't aim for the neck, could she?”

“She fancied herself a killer, but she was pathetically bad with a knife!” He barks out a laugh, “Clearly things have changed since then, because she’s confident enough to try and kill me again.”

“I don't think we should worry too much, if half an ear is all the damage she can do to you.” Astarion chuckles, “Karlach would have her set ablaze before she even got to your tent!”

“I’m sure you’d take a chunk out of her neck before she could take one out of mine.”

“Oh! Such high praise from someone as strong as yourself!” The two are laughing with each other, hands intertwined. Altair wants to savor moments like these, wanting to remember what it feels like to be normal, to care for someone like this.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to ask-” He turns to Astarion, catching his breath, “When we met, you recognized me, where did you first find me?”

“Well, at some shit tavern, no offense to your musical skills, mind you-” He sighs, recalling the moment. “You piqued my interest, being a drow playing the violin and singing. Here you were, a sparkly, singing drow! I even tried propositioning you!”

“Oh, that can’t have gone well.”

(He knows it didn't.)

“You rejected me, very harshly!” Astarion dramatically leans onto Altair’s shoulder, a hand over his forehead. “My ego! Horribly wounded by a sparkly bard!”

“What was it that I said exactly?”

“You said I looked sickly! Like I could barely walk up the stairs! Never mind getting in bed with you! I thought I hid my whole “being dead” thing well- until you came along!”

“Oh yes, it was something along the lines of, ‘Perhaps you should visit a hospital bed before you visit mine.’” Altair snickers, remembering the mortified look that Astarion had given him. “And you left in a huff after calling me a few choice words. In my defense, I was incredibly wasted."

“I mean, I got to bed you eventually.” The elf snarks, “So I guess everything worked out in the end.”

“I guess it did.”

2.

“..aand that's how I bravely defended myself from an assassin!” Altair’s piss drunk, spouting about absolute nonsense, “In fact, that's how I got thiis rapier!” He waves his sword around, laughing.

Astarion rolls his eyes, sipping from his own bottle of wine. He knew Altair had a drinking problem, he just didn't think it was this bad. However, it was certainly fun to see him yelling and screaming. It was a nice change of pace from his usually more put together and cheery persona.

“Wait- hand me my violin!” He slurred out, his arm was wrapped around Alfira’s shoulders. “Alfira, we should play togeth’r, a duet! A duet! You said you wanted to be bard in Baldur’s Gate, riight? I know a great tavern tha’ would be perfect for youu~”

“Now, I think it's high time you let go of your bottle.” Astarion chides, taking Altair’s wine away from him. The drow responds with a groan, and looks up at Astarion with pleading eyes. “Don't look at me like that, darling, you need to be cut off at some point. I don't want you whining to Shadowheart about a hangover.”

“Oh come onn, I know how much I can drink.”

“Oh, you're such a big baby.” He politely smiles to the group of tieflings that had gathered around Altair, and then pries him off of Alfira, dragging him towards his tent. “Apologies for my dear partner, I’ll be taking him off your hands now.”

Astarion sits him down, going off to find a bottle of water for him. Altair watches him attentively, prompting Astarion to turn, raising an eyebrow.

“What? See something you like?”

“You caree about me~” He giggles, thinking it’s the funniest thing in the world. How silly! To think that someone like Astarion would care for him! To think that anyone would care for a mess like him. “Youu care! Hahaha!”

“Only because I know you won't remember it in the morning.”

“I will!” He retorts, flailing his arms about, “I will! I swear!”

“I doubt it, love.” Astarion pushes the rim of the water bottle to Altair’s mouth. “Drink.”

“What are you, my-” The rest of his sentence is cut off as Astarion tilts the bottle, forcing water down his throat. He sputters, pushing it away from his mouth. “ghk- Gods, alright! I’ll drink!”

“Good boy.” Astarion gives him a pat on the head, before settling down next to him. “After you finish drinking that, go to sleep.”

“Aww, but I wanna talk with youu.”

“We can talk when you remember how to speak without slurring your words.”

“Noo, I wanna talk now!” He whines, leaning into Astarion’s shoulder. “I wanna tell you more about myself, s’only fair after you told me about Cazador..”

“Oh, just go to sleep, you idiot.”

“I will if you let me talk to you!”

Astarion groans, but relents. “Fine, if it gets you to rest.”

“Yaaay!”

Altair thinks for a moment about what to tell Astarion, he did want to share something, after how much Astarion had shared with him. Maybe not about his horrible time as a slave, something more lighthearted- but his life was so horribly depressing. What could he even talk about?

His eyes glance around his tent, before landing on his violin.

Wait- He’s a bard!

“Astarion!” He exclaims, grabbing the elf’s hands. There are stars in his eyes, and Astarion feels like he's in for a long night, and not the kind he likes. “Did I ever tell you about how I became a bard!”

“No?”

“I-” He pauses, looking confused for a moment. “Wait, giive me a second..”

Astarion grins, amused at his antics. As Altair is thinking, he shifts, letting Altair rest his head on his chest. His fingers go to thread through his hair, gently running through the strands.

“Don't tell me you don't remember, love.” He softly laughs, “Did the wine erase your memory too?”

“No! I just need a moment..” He yawns, sinking Astarion’s touch. He always loved when Astarion would comb through his hair like this, he felt like could just drift off. “Just give me a second..”

-

What in the hells did he say last night?

Altair blearily wakes up, wiping away the sleep from his eyes, finding that his body was sprawled over Astarion’s. His hair is undone from its usual braid, and is instead tangled in Astarion’s hands.

“What..?” He groans as he pushes himself off of Astarion, carefully untangling his hair from his fingers. “Gods, my arms are sore..”

His eyes flit back over to Astarion, who's still sound asleep. He racks his brain for memories of last night, he got drunk, yelled a little, sang, told some shit story about his time in the Underdark.

Oh.

He told him everything. Or- most of it anyway, just the parts about how he was forced to fight other slaves while starving and only found solace in creating and telling stories. A perfect conversation topic, the best way to reveal your fucked up past! Dammit, did he show him his journal too?

A rustle from behind him makes him snap his head back around, tensing up. He doesn't know if he can talk about it now that he's sober.

“Ngh, good morning, Altair.” The vampire sits up, yawning. “Glad to see you sober again.”

“Morning to you too, Astarion.” Altair mumbles, running a gentle hand over Astarion’s head. “I.. how much did I tell you last night?”

“Just bits and pieces, most of it was unintelligible to me.”

“Sorry about last night.”

“What for?”

What does he mean “What for?” for just dumping his trauma all over him, especially when Astarion was trying to get him to bed. Gods, he's not a child, he should be able to take care of himself!

“For making you listen to me,” Altair tries to remember what exactly he revealed, was it the torture? The brutal fights? He had to know how much Astarion knew about her. “I told you about when I was a gladiator, right? and that I was..”

A killer hangover has him hissing in pain, holding his head. His memories are still foggy, and his head can't take the strain of trying to remember. It’d take a good couple hours before his mind was clear enough for him to try.

“You told me that you wanted to be a poet.” Astarion says, putting a hand on Altair’s shoulder. “Don't hurt yourself trying to remember everything, I can just tell you.”

“Alright then, what else did I spill?”

“You waxed poetically for a while about how you took solace in art, about how you shadow wrote some songs and stories for a while. You attempted to show me your journal.”

He pointedly looks at the open journal on the ground, some of its pages scattered on the floor.

“Don't worry, I didn't get to read much of it. You ended up crying as soon as you opened it, and I had to calm you down.”

He pauses, hesitantly continuing. “You.. you cried about how you were living in the Underdark, about being forced to become a gladiator.”

“Oh.” Altair shakily sighs, running a hand through his hair, “What did I tell you exactly..?”

“Mostly about the living conditions,” He replies, “You were crying too much for me to understand, so I ended up just coaxing you to sleep.”

“Well, thank you for taking care of me, sorry for being such a child.”

“You don't have to be sorry, love.” Astarion yawns, getting up from Altair’s bedroll, “You listened to me whine about Cazador, it was only fair I do the same.”

“Still, thank you..” Altair gets up as well, following Astarion out to greet the morning. “..for listening to me, when you didn’t have to.”

3.

They’d been in the Shadowlands for a while now, Shadowheart was still talking about Shar and her protection, and Gale was geeking out about how the curse had affected the land around them. The usual day for their party.

He’d just talked to Raphael, shook hands and made a verbal contract, the whole nine yards. Astarion said he was ready to go and find whatever monster they had to kill, ready to learn more about his infernal scars and about how to stop Cazador. All he was waiting on was Altair’s command.

Altair, on the other hand, was more concerned with how Astarion seemed to be slower. They hadn’t lost any fights yet, but none of his attacks had his usual power behind them. He wasn't fit to be in any fight right now, and Altair knew it.

He pieced together why quickly, as he realized that there weren't many animals here for him to eat, the only ones they’d seen had been taken by the shadow curse. He hadn't offered to let him feed recently either.

Astarion was starving.

“Astarion,” Altair stands in front of his tent, arms crossed, “You haven't fed in a while, have you?”

“Well, there aren't exactly any animals here, and I’d hate to take my chances with the rest of the party.” He sends him a flirtatious look, licking his lips, “Unless you're offering that pretty neck of yours~”

His mouth is watering at the mere mention of feeding from Altair- and he does a poor job of hiding it.

“Astarion, I’m being serious, are you alright? I don't want you starving at tomorrow’s fight.”

“I-” Astarion was starving, but he was planning on sinking his teeth into a rat or something. He'd seen a few in the Gauntlet of Shar, Altair didn't have to do this for him. “Well, if you insist..”

Altair nods, the two heading into Astarion’s tent. He lays down on Astarion’s bedroll, letting the elf unlace part of his top. His dark skin is exposed to the frigid air, and he shivers. Astarion’s hands leave feather light touches on his neck as he brushes away Altair’s hair.

Gods, Astarion was already salivating at the sight of his neck.

Altair lets out a gasp, fangs sinking into his neck. Astarion’s tongue eagerly laps up the blood that spills out, groaning. A week without a proper meal leaves him greedy, and Altair can feel himself getting lightheaded.

He gently pats Astarion’s shoulder, “That's enough. Any more and I’m going to pass out.” Astarion whines, but unhinges himself from Altair’s neck. The drow pushes himself up, padding around for his violin so that he could cast Lesser Restoration on himself. “Astarion, I’m going to grab my violin, I left it in my tent.”

“I’ll grab it for you, just give me a moment to fix your shirt.” He motions for Altair to lean forward a bit, and he starts to lace his shirt back up. “You're in such a hurry, darling. Don't go running off topless in front of the party, I’d get jealous.”

“I don't think you should be the authority on decency, Star.” His breath hitches as Astarion’s cold fingers brush against his collarbone. “I think you’ve been seen in more scandalous positions than I have.”

“Oh, are you implying something, love?” Astarion leans in close to Altair, whispering scandalously as he holds the drow’s gaze, “Do you want to be seen when we have sex?”

He pulls the thread of Altair’s shirt tight, sending a shudder through his body.

“No.” Altair breathily replies, “I.. I like being a sight for your eyes only, Astarion..”

“A pity, I’d love to share this..” He drags a finger up Altair’s neck, “..beautiful body with everyone. But you being all mine doesn't sound too bad either.”

He lightly taps Altair’s nose, cheekily smiling at him.

“Astarion..”

“I’ll go ahead and grab your violin, darling.” He pecks Altair on the forehead. “Try and entertain yourself while I’m gone, why don’t you?”

He smiles to himself as he makes his way to Altair’s tent, the face that he’d made when he left was priceless! His cheeks were positively flushed, all the way up to his ears, he was sure that he looked the same though, his pale skin being warmed by the drow’s blood.

Astarion rummages around, spotting the violin behind his pack, as he moves to grab it, he knocks a journal off of Altair’s desk. He mumbles out a few curses, before leaning down to pick it up. It’s open to a page, written in Elvish.

“...ordered another punishment for the Comet, and he came crying to me! He’s a fool, coming to me for help.”

What?

He knows that Altair would hate him if he read it without his permission, especially if it was full of documentation of his torture. But it irks him a little bit, not knowing the extent of Altair abuse.

All he knew was that he was a slave in the Underdark, and that the house he was in forced him to fight in gladiator matches. He’d only made passing mentions of his living conditions, things like being starved or in constant pain, which he could unfortunately relate to.

Sometimes there was mention of a mysterious woman- Ariadne. She came up the most when they were exploring the Underdark, it confused him, as Altair would go from near panic attacks to describing fond memories when talking about her.

Astarion shuts the journal, his touch lingering a bit on the swirling gold embroidery.

Should he talk to Altair about it?

They were getting close to finding a cure for the tadpole, and Altair seemed set on heading to Baldur’s Gate after investigating Moonrise Towers. He didn’t know how much longer Altair was going to stay with him, they certainly had something going on, but he didn’t know if it was enough for Altair to stay with him.

He wanted Altair to stay with him, even after their journey together.

He just didn’t know how to ask him to stay.

He sighs, figuring that Altair has waited long enough for his violin. He heads back to his tent, trying to sort out his thoughts.

“Found your violin.” He sits down next to Altair, who’s reading one of his books, “Oh, I quite like that story.”

“Really? Wouldn’t peg you as the type to enjoy horror.”

“Well, it’s kind of like a comedy after everything we’ve been through. Helps me laugh at it all.” Astarion hands him his violin, “Does it help you any?”

“A bit, but I’ve been mostly laughing at the bad writing. Let me tell you that gladiator fights are nothing like this!” Altair huffs dramatically, “So much talk about honor, and how they describe the equipment? Incredibly inaccurate.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, but how did you escape the Underdark? You don’t have to answer if it’s a sore subject, but you’ve never gone into much detail about it.”

He sighs, recalling the first time that Astarion saw him break down in the Underdark. He was a fool then, trying to pretend like the place didn’t haunt him. Altair holds his violin, gripping his bow a bit too tightly. He should tell Astarion, they were getting close to Baldur’s Gate, and he couldn’t endanger him like that.

“There’s a journal in my tent, it belongs to Ariadne, the person who promised to help me escape. I think I already told you that she betrayed me though. She was cruel, and I wish I could say that I hate her with all of my being, but that’d be a lie.”

He nervously plays with the pegs of his violin, “She was still the first to treat me like I existed, you know? She gave me food, money, and some kind of social interaction. I know that what she did was wrong, and that she was never my friend, but a part of me misses her.”

Astarion looks at him sympathetically, understanding how desperate you get for any kind of interaction when you’re isolated. That time he spent stuck in a coffin comes to mind, being trapped in the dark with only his thoughts, nothing but silence for days on end.

He knows that Altair spent most of his life like that, trapped in a stone cell, only let out to be fed or to fight. Altair was able to create stories, and pretend like all his fights were epic tales, but even he admits that much of his time was spent staring up at a cold, stone ceiling. That, and being beaten for not performing well enough in fights, or whatever fault they found with him.

“I finished reading most of her entries, I assume she lost it before getting to Baldur’s Gate though.” Altair says, “She was in the middle of chasing me out of a tavern before I was kidnapped and put on that mindflayer ship. According to her journal, she’d found out where I worked. I fully expect that she found my house soon after I was kidnapped”

He turns to Astarion with a determined look, “I have to go back, I can’t keep running from her. Not to mention, my father is still there, and I don’t know how long it’ll take before she resorts to using him against me. I need to kill her, to finally be free.”

“And here I thought I would be the only one meeting my old master in Baldur’s Gate,” Astarion jokes, “Good to know we’re both on a mission to get revenge.”

“It’s not revenge- I wouldn’t call it that.”

“Killing the person that ruined your life? I’d say that’s the textbook definition of revenge, darling.”

“It’s not- well, it’s more about me being free.” He explains, looking away from Astarion. He knew that Astarion wouldn’t understand how he felt about Ariadne, it’d be so easy to hate her if all she did was torture him, but she didn’t.

“She- She was still nice to me, you know. She was the very reason I learned that there was more to the world than my cell, and that I still even had a father. Ariadne was my first friend, she was a lot of my firsts, even though she ended up wanting to kill me.”

“That journal I found details some things from my enslavement, and it hurts to read sometimes. It only proves how bad of a person she is, that she hated me from the start.” Tears start to fall from his eyes as he relays his emotions to him.

“It’s tainted all the memories I had with her, every single one that I’d go back to when I trance, wanting to remember the better moments of my life. She hated me the whole time. It was funny to her, how little I knew, how even though I was the better fighter, she was still superior to me.”

“Killing her is going to be my way of getting closure, and reclaiming my life.”

Altair is still crying, crying and bloodless, he remembers. His hands shakily move his violin under his chin, placing the bow on the strings.

“Sorry- The blood loss is starting to get to me- I just have to heal myself”

“I don’t think you’re in playing condition, dear.” Astarion gently lowers Altair’s hands, taking his violin and setting it down behind him. “I think you’re in need of a good night’s rest, Shadowheart can take care of it in the morning.”

Altair nods, but looks at Astarion warily.

Why wasn’t he saying anything? No disgust at not hating his torturer? He would understand if Astarion was confused, angry, even. Was he really just going to help him fight some unknown danger?

If there was one thing he learned while in the Underdark- from her, it was that love meant nothing. He loved people, cared for them, only to be hurt. It was always finite, his relationships never lasted, despite the effort he put in, why would this one be different?

He’d help Astarion get rid of the tadpole in their heads, and then help him kill Cazador.

After that, he’d be on his own.

Right?

“Why are you giving me that look?”

“You’re really going to help me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” The elf gives Altair a confused look, wondering what was going on in his head, “You, the bleeding heart that you are, promised everyone here help with their problems, and yet you think I wouldn’t help you fight some drow?”

“No? You have no obligation to help me, you don’t get anything out of it.” Altair has an incredulous look on his face, “You- What do you get out of helping me? My loyalty? Unless I’ve misread something, no one here has to help me- I don’t expect any of you to help me!”

Astarion is a little angry, was he stupid? What did he mean he didn’t expect help? Was he truly that blind to how much he cared for him, to how much everyone cared for him. Did he simply think that the people here wouldn’t fight for him the way he fought for them?

“We- I care about you as much as you care about me. You’ve done so much for the party- for me, and you just expect me to let you charge into a fight alone?”

“Yes? People don’t- they don’t just help for no reason, Astarion!” He stammers out, Ariadne had drilled that idea into his head. She only reinforced it when she betrayed him, and even more so through her journal entries.

“I don't expect help from anyone! I didn’t see why you would be different, even if you said you cared for me. I thought that you were only playing along with my antics, using ‘love’ to get a free night of sex, or someone willing to protect you!”

That comment hurt Astarion. Altair was right, he was the one who’d emotionally manipulated him into a relationship, being nice to gain something. But he’d changed, he started genuinely caring for him. He tried showing him that he cared.

The nights he spent comforting him, listening to him talk about his past? The silly banter they’d have while Altair was healing him? How he constantly- constantly threw himself into danger to protect him? Did that mean nothing to him? Did Altair only see that as repayment for his affection?

Altair still sits there, confused. He wasn’t wrong, he thinks. All his life has been a game of giving. He cares about people, gives them his trust, his words of love and soft kisses, keeps that person happy, until they abandon him.

They leave, and he pretends like all those emotions weren’t real, that nothing happened, he uses the feelings in a ballad or story, and tries to forget. Wash, rinse, repeat. He’s lived like that for 215 years, and he hasn’t had anyone try to break that cycle or tell him he was wrong. It was just life, after all.

“Did everything we do mean nothing to you? Was it all just you playing along to entertain me?”

“No! Gods, No. I care about you Astarion, I do!”

“Then why do you act like everything I’ve done for you means nothing?! Do you think I don’t care about you too, Altair?”

“I..” He holds his tongue, he truly didn’t think Astarion loved him. He didn't think anyone truly cared about him. He’d been alone this long, after all. Why would Astarion be any different than his past relationships?

He’d done the same for all of them, listening to their past, helping them through rough patches. Altair had done everything by the book, he revealed bits of himself to them, but always- always, they'd leave him.

No one wanted to stay after learning that he wasn't a charismatic bard, they didn't want to risk being killed because of his past. Sometimes they were disgusted with what he did as a gladiator. But he’d always understood, why would anyone want to try and bear the weight of his past with him?

His silence is all the answer that Astarion needs to hear, and the vampire frustratedly grabs his hands, moving closer to him.

“I’d follow you to the ends of Faerun, and help you fight whatever horrible monster from your past shows up.” He states firmly, holding Altair’s gaze. “I’d do this because I know you’d do the same for me, no matter how scared you are- I love you, Altair, even if you don’t believe it yourself.”

“I-” Altair looks back at him, fear behind his eyes, “I want to believe you, I do. But I can’t, I don’t know what to do if you just love me, what do I do in return?”

His mind is spinning, relationships never worked like that. It was always give and take and give and take-

He wasn’t worthy of a relationship, a real relationship, he had to compensate for all his flaws. He had to, or that person would leave him.

Just like how Ariadne did.

She would leave him alone in his cell for days on end, sometimes years, if he offended her enough.

Darkvision doesn’t help much when the walls are the same color, and his mind could only entertain itself for so long before it began to spiral. He was never enough, he had to always make up for it. It was the only way he wouldn’t end up alone, stuck in a stone cell.

“You don’t have to do anything.” Astarion softly smiles at him, “You just have to accept it. I’m loving you with no strings attached, dear.”

Was it really that simple?

“Is that really it? I just accept that you love me? Even though it’s..” Altair trails off, vaguely motioning to himself.

“What, like loving you is hard?” He pressed a kiss to the palm of Altair’s hand, cradling it against his cheek, his red eyes looking up at him through his lashes, “Loving you is easy, you just have to accept it."

“..oh.”

It was that simple.

4.

White-hot pain flares up from Astarion’s back, and he feels warm blood dripping down his arms.

It’s him.

A choked sob rings through the halls, as Cazador’s laugh rubs salt in his wound. Tears mix with blood as he white knuckles the carpet below him. Why was he back here? Where did everyone go?

“Did you really think you could escape?” Astarion’s head is forced up, clawed hands digging into his cheeks. “Foolish boy, you know I can find you anywhere. The audacity to even try and run!”

He roughly lets go of his face, moving to a table that he can only assume is lined with tools. Cazador hums as he traces his hands over every single one, and he starts to prattle on about how he’s going to use them on Astarion.

His mind races as he tries to rationalize everything, he's not here, he's at camp, in his tent. His breath hitches when he catches a glimpse of a familiar half-drow.

No.

Altair lays limply on the ground, chained to the wall. He turns to Astarion, and his stomach turns-

His eyes are red.

“Altair!”

“This is your fault.” Altair’s head lifts up, gaze boring through him. His voice is hoarse, and Astarion can see pointed fangs just past his lips as he opens his mouth “I should've never trusted you.”

-

Altair sits comfortably outside Astarion’s tent, hands idly plucking a tune on his violin. They were camped outside of Rivington, only a night away from getting into Baldur’s Gate.

“Let him go! Stop!” He turns to Astarion, who’s writhing in his bedroll, tears falling from his closed eyes. “Please..”

“Astarion!” Altair throws his violin to the ground, rushing to his side. Astarion’s having a dream, a kind that Altair is all too familiar with. “You're safe, wake up, come on..”

His voice is soft as he gently shakes Astarion’s shoulder. “Cazador isn't here, you're having a nightmare. Please wake up..”

As if listening to Altair’s pleas, Astarion’s eyes snap open, nails digging into his wrist. Frenzied, red eyes meet his, and he loosens his grip as he realizes what happened.

“Shit- I’m sorry.”

“It's fine. Are..” He wants to ask if he's alright, but he knows the answer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Astarion stares at him in response, hand still holding onto the drow’s wrist. He was safe, Altair was safe, Cazador isn't here.

“I had a bad dream.” He laughs, ‘bad dream’ would be an understatement, “It was about Cazador. He had you, and you were- you were turned. Gods, I hate this, we're literally on our way to kill him, and he's still tormenting me!"

“They have a way of doing that to you.” Altair rests his hand atop Astarion’s. “Our torturers, I mean. We can never really forget, but we can kill them.”

“Ha, that we can.” Astarion thinks it’s unfair, that he has to live with the memories of torture, with scars that will never fade. All while Cazador gets to die, and never suffers the same way he did. “Funny how that works out, two ex-slaves going to Baldur’s Gate to kill their enslavers.”

“Sounds like great material for a story.” Altair hums, “Maybe I’ll write a little song about us, ‘Astarion and Altair: Free Elves’ has a nice ring to it.”

Astarion groans, laughing. “Gods, no. Don't tell me you're going to be singing that at taverns, Altair.”

“I would never!” He replies dramatically, gasping in mock surprise. “That'll be one of my personal songs, for my ears only!”

“Oh please, I should have some right to hear it, my name is in the title!” Astarion scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Besides, I’ve already seen your whole journal. I assume I’ve seen all of your ‘private’ songs.”

“You've only seen the most recent one. There’s more at my home.” He sighs wistfully, “I’m excited to finally sleep in my bed again, provided Ariadne left the place intact.”

“Personally, I’m excited to finally take consistent baths. I’m tired of smelling like shit all the time.”

They sit in a comfortable silence as their laughter dies down, Altair looks back up at Astarion. Concern still hangs in his mind, “Are you feeling better now?”

“I am.” Astarion sighs, wiping an exasperated hand down his face, “Cazador will know I’m back, and my brothers and sisters will probably be everywhere trying to look for us.”

The worst part about all of it was that he was still scared. Countless ‘what ifs’ run through his head. What if they failed, and he died? What would happen to Altair and the others? They’d gotten a place in his heart, even though he’d never care to admit it, he didn't even want Cazador touching them!

“After we kill Cazador, and the Absolute..” Altair’s voice snaps Astarion out of his thoughts, “We should settle down, you could move in with me, and maybe I could help you find a job.”

“Hm, that sounds dreadfully boring.”

“I think boring is what I need if we succeed in taking down a cult.” Altair laughs. “Besides, it wouldn’t be too bad. I’m confined to the dark as much as you are, I’m practically blind during the day. Stupid tadpole lets me enjoy the day without sun sensitivity setting my eyes ablaze.”

“I wasn't aware that you had light sensitivity.” He knew that drow had a hard time seeing in sunlight, but chalked up Altair’s resistance to him only being half-drow.

“Mm, it was pretty bad. Pretty sure the tadpole made me immune, like you. I’m going to miss not having my eyes fried to a crisp whenever I open my curtains.”

“Oh, but you’ll have me.” Astarion pulls Altair into his bedroll, and pins the drow beneath him. “And I still look just as ravishing in the dark, darling~”

“I-'' A blush graces Altair’s face, and he lightly hits Astarion’s chest, laughing. “Gods, what am I going to do with you?”

“Oh, I’d love to know what you’d do with me,” Astarion teases, earning a groan from Altair, “Or what I’d do to you.”

“Well, I’d love for you..” Altair puts a hand on Astarion’s chest, “..to shut up and let me sleep.”

“I’d love to sleep in your bed, darling. Or in any bed really, but having a handsome drow next to me would be a great incentive to sleep in yours.”

“Gods, no!” He stammers out, “My room is a mess, you’d have to wait outside with the rest of the party while I try and clean whatever is left of my house.”

“Where is your house?” Astarion questions, “I’m sure you aren't living in luxury, but I know you didn't live in the sewers or anything.”

“It's in the lower city, near the Blushing Mermaid. I play a lot of my gigs there, even though the patrons are drunk out of their minds and could care less. Started a lot of bar fights, too.”

“200 years and some things never change.” He sighs wistfully, recalling the years he spent there drinking his misery away, “Though, you were quite sloppy with your kills there.”

“What?” Altair’s eyes widen in shock as Astarion lays down next to him, an amused smile on his lips. “I never told you I was a contract killer!”

“You didn't.”

“What did you see me doing?” Sure, he took a few jobs killing people in Baldur’s Gate, and sure- he wasn't the sneakiest, but for Astarion to have caught him? He was worse at his job than he thought.

“I smelled some blood in an alleyway, and lo and behold-” He makes a dramatic gesture with his hands, motioning to Altair, “There you were, dragging away a body!”

“This is so embarrassing..”

“Oh, but don't worry, no one else saw!”

“But you did! And I was only a hitman for like 20 years!” Altair only became a contract killer because he didn't have many other skills when coming to Baldur’s Gate. Not his proudest moment, he admits, but he did a lot of odd jobs while trying to keep himself afloat, killing people just happened to be one of them.

“Makes me glad that you rejected me back then, otherwise I might've been killed by you.”

“I would never.” Altair scoffs, “Killing someone as pretty as you would be a crime!”

“Exactly!”

Astarion laughs along with Altair, but his mind wanders.

They could've killed each other 200 years ago. He knows that some people had caught onto his vampirism, and that Altair very well could've taken a job to kill him.

Conversely, he could've seduced Altair, and brought him to Cazador; he had tried and failed, after all. He thinks about that possibility, if Altair hadn't refused him so harshly, he would’ve been another victim. If Altair was a mercenary for longer, he could’ve killed him.

He grimaces at the thought.

“Well, hopefully we get a few years of peace after this whole cult fiasco. But knowing you and your bleeding heart, we’d be off on another adventure right after ending a cult!”

“I’d like to spend at least a few decades with you before we're whisked away, maybe get married or something.” Altair chuckles, but his head snaps over to Astarion when he realizes what he said. “I mean- only if you want to..?”

“Well, why not?” Astarion brushes a hand across the half-drow’s cheek, cracking a small smile at his flustered face. “There isn't anyone else I’d like to spend my eternal life with.”

“Oh.” He’s laughing, tears in the corners of his eyes, “Gods, this isn't how I wanted my proposal to go.”

He wipes at his tears, face flushed. “I was going to serenade you, and give you a ring and everything! It was going to be beautiful.”

“For a bard, you aren't very good at keeping your composure.”

“I swear I’m better on stage!”

Astarion laughs, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead, “Sure, darling.”

[tnc-n3cl]

More Rito Headcanons!

Something of an expansion of my "Rito Biology 101" post, but I'm not going to bother with the in-universe POV and talking about a couple different things here so...

Here's the original. Now that TotK is out, we got some new info so I'm going to go over things. (Namely a new Tribe for Penn and some thoughts on the aged up kiddos.) There my be some minor spoilers in the images, so I'm going to put them below the read more line.

Minor edit: 7/30/23, realized that one of the new NPC's mentioned something I forgot to talk about!

New Rito Guy! Penn is a reporter who you team up with for a few sidequests. Clearly he's some kind of pelican, so a quick search on Wikipedia and... Pelca Tribe (from Pelecanus the genus that contains all living pelicans)

So a couple things here. One: the triangles on his little sash reminds me of Kass' scarf. (What did you do to Kass Nintendo?!) Two: his outfit appears to be made of some kind of blue leather. I'm assuming that all Rito wear leather armor basically (except Saki and the little ones). Interestingly, I had drawn an axe that had talon grip handles in the axe head that are sometimes made out of leather sourced from blue monster hides. Doubt that's the case here since he's not a warrior but still...

His catchphrase... You can see they did the little hook on his beak! Is that yellow on his chest part of his clothes? Hm...

Including this because, A: this is quite possibly my favorite quote from him and B: you can see he has webbed feets! (Still say they should have given the Rito four toes but whatever...)

Look at his tiny pen and notebook! (The dangles on his hood are shaped like pens!)

Okay, that's enough Penn for now... In other news, new color morphs just dropped ya'll!

So the first guy looks like he might be a shade or two lighter than Huck, but the second guy is a new color altogether. We gots purple Orni Tribe Ritos now! Really don't have much to say about these two, but more variety is nice.

EDIT: Actually I do have something to say about Ornest. He mentions that all Rito have the ability to manipulate the wind, something I was theorizing to be the case. So, headcanon confirmed!

Moving on to the kiddos!

Kotts! Again her headband makes me think of her father's scarf and I miss him so much!

Here's BotW Kotts for comparison. As you can see, the white on her face is starting to fade, and she's lost her "bangs", and her head is starting to be more bird shaped. Rough estimation is that TotK is around 5 years after BotW and I'm assuming that she's 5 during BotW so that would make her 10 in TotK. (I'm going with Rito living around 80 years on average BTW).

She's almost as tall as Link! Also that dialog speaks to me on like, a molecular level. (She gets up at 10AM BTW) Also note her Saki-like clothing.

BotW Molli

TotK Molli

I, uh, don't think she grew at all...

She wants to make cool arrows so her dad will use them with his bows... (Why's there no emoji/emoticon button?! I need a big eyed sad face here!)

Speaking of her dad... Here enjoy this totally unrelated to anything I'm talking about shot of Harth actually standing! He gets to do stuff in this game guys! (Can you believe I almost forgot he existed when I went from BotW to Age of Calamity? How could I forget this unique bird?!)

Last but not least, Bird Son himself...

Tulin!!!! Look at this adorable little guy! LOOK AT HIM!!!!

I like to think he admires the hell out of Link and so he's mimicking Link's pose as much as he can. Speaking of which... Get that guy a cowboy outfit and a giant belt buckle!

Look at him some more!

So I don't know if that's eyeliner or just natural markings but he's doing his mom's thing and I can't even you guys!

I am SO normal about these birds...

*regains composure*

Okay, so what have we learned from this? Rito start off with blue sclera (the whites of the eye) when they're little. Around 10 or so the sclera becomes white and the irises are blue. Given that neither Kass nor Amali have blue eyes, I'm going to assume at some point their daughters will develop yellow eyes like them. Tulin... Let's just say his eyes stay blue.

Fluffy white baby feathers on the face slowly fade over the years until they their faces are solid colors (Orni Tribe at least). Tulin's little bun, is this like his mom's "hair" or more like his dad's floof? His he tying it back? You can make out something around the base of it in that second image of him so I think so... What if he ends up with a braid like the Ancient Wind Sage? (Why couldn't you just name them Nintendo? You could have just used the Divine Beasts' names and it would have been fine!)

None of the kids have proper tail feathers yet, so I hesitate to call them juveniles... Give them a few more years and they'll probably start growing them.

I like Penn, and pelican/waterfowl Rito fit in with ideas I was having for my fanfic so... Just gotta find a way to fit him in...

I made it so that different Rito settlements have different symbols. Normally these would be found on the cloth around their waist. However, Penn has this unique symbol on his chestpiece... Granted there's some similar symbols around the village but...

[thedawningofthehour]

for the dvd commentary thing - im not sure if it fits under 500 words or if u can even remember what u were thinking since u wrote it like last year , but the scene in arc 1 chapter 8 where draxum n donnie talk abt sun tzu n mythology n names ?

That is...yes, that's quite a bit longer, about 1300, but lucky for you I'm very narcissist and love talking about my shit. (and nobody else sent one in)

“You’ve read Sun Tzu.” Draxum is just looking at him, with a quirked eyebrow and a small smile on his face. For some reason, Donnie’s face flushes. “Well, yeah.” He looks down. “I’ve always loved reading, and it’s not that long. What, did you know him or something?” “He was a bit before my time.” Okay, he’s actually smiling now. It’s creepy. “But his work is quite illuminating.” “I’m surprised you’ve read it. He was a human, after all. A warring human. Aren’t you against that?” “Only fools believe they have nothing to learn from their opponents.” “So you’ll apply that to a two-thousand-year-old book, but not to modern humans?” Donnie tugs on his cuffs. “You know you missed, like, the entire point Sun Tzu was trying to make, right? His entire philosophy was that using violence is rarely the best way to get what you want and conflicts are better solved diplomatically.” “And he also said that when you do draw your bow, to draw your strongest arrow.” “Yes, but only if-” “Do you not think there have been attempts to address our conflict with the humans diplomatically?” Draxum says shortly. “You think you’ve seen the extent of this war. This has gone on much longer than you. Longer than me, even.”

So that took influence from a podcast I enjoy:

The whole thing is a fake talk show radio program from a fictional city with sort a sort of surreal-absurdist vibe going on. (one episode depicts a political debate that devolves into an argument over whether the crawdad people would vote for them and one candidate's treatment of the alligator king, for example) Also not the only reference to this podcast in this fic; this is where Tubby Dan's Barbecue and its various trials Bella mentions are from. He actually has a commercial later on in this episode.

I also have not been able to find the exact quote he uses. This guy might just be trolling me. But I figured, Donnie's fifteen, even if it is a fake quote that's the kind of mistake a fifteen-year-old would make.

“I’m just saying-” “No, you will listen to me on this occasion. Look around you, boy. Think of where we are, think of who we are.” “We’re a turtle and a goat-man in your lab. I can’t really look at much else.” The slap takes him by surprise. It doesn’t particularly hurt, but he feels quite confident by now in how far he can push Draxum before he uses physical force, and he hadn’t reached that point. “The Hidden City is under New York City,” Draxum says quietly. “You have more experience with the world above than I do, so let me ask. Does it feel like New York City?” Donnie shakes his head, his cheek still stinging. “Why do you think that is?” “I assumed it was because the Hidden City is a lot older? New York is only about three hundred years old, and almost everything up there was built in the last century,”

(noooo a typo)

(I literally just went back and edited a nearly year-old chapter right now, it's all fixed dw)

But for real, New York is an infant of a city. I know the Hidden City is under New York because the turtles live in New York, they've always lived in New York-but I wanted it to make sense why.

So my idea was that the Hidden City isn't so much under New York, but that New York was built on top of the Hidden City. They weren't even hidden at first-they just fucking lived there, cohabitating with the indigenous Lenape people, (or at the very least they left each other alone) and adapted when Europeans started their colonizing bullshit, gradually moving underground as more humans showed up and clashed with the Yokai, not understanding what they were. (The Lenape and the original colonizers didn't really know either, but there was an understanding of bro just don't ask questions that was gradually lost as more and more people settled there) Part of the reason it became 'gestures to all of New York' is because of the presence of the Yokai and all their nonsense. So basically-the chicken came before the egg, and the Hidden City is that chicken. Or one of them. You can decide whether they did the fucking or laid the egg.

“You are…correct in that observation, yes. The Hidden City is much older.” Draxum glances off to the side. “But think of what is here. Think of where it came from.” “Well, yes, the culture here is heavily East Asian. Even the name Yokai originated in Japan.” “Think about that. Why are so many Yokai from that area? New York is on the other side of this continent. It is not a simple journey.” “I assumed there was some portal.” “There was, but by design. Why did they come here?” “I’ve met Yokai that are definitely European.” “Very few. Think about why that is.” Donnie glances up. “Fewer Yokai in other parts of the world.” “We were actually more widespread in some areas. Why do you think you do not see our brothers and sisters from the Horn of Africa? The Maghreb? From the islands of the great Pacific? They existed, my boy. Ask me why they are not here.” Donnie is silent. Draxum looks over him, his eyes narrowed and cold. “The Hidden City is the last of its kind. There are no other communities like this elsewhere in the world, not anymore. So I will ask you again, boy. Why are there so many Yokai here from Asia? And why are the Yokai of the rest of the world not here?” Donnie remains silent. “Answer me, boy.” “I understand.” “I want you to say it.” “Humans killed them.” Donnie focuses on the ceiling. 

Another one of those 'try to make the lore of the fucking ninja turtles show realistic' decisions. I know the reason they're called Yokai and why there's so much East Asian influence is because they are Ninja and this is a show about Ninjas and the writers wanted to harp on that, but it doesn't really make sense from a lore perspective.

I mean, think of where New York is. Pre flying, pre Panama Canal, the Far East and New York couldn't have really been more far apart. To get from Japan to New York by ship, you had to sail across the Pacific, down the west coast of both north and south America, around Cape Horn, back up the east coast all the way from Argentina to the fucking northeastern tip of the United States. Or land in Washington and cross the entire continent on foot. (I know they have portals but that's not the point, okay?) Like, unless there was a really big, heavy traffic natural portal from the Hidden City to Japan it just doesn't make sense for that to be the primarily culture. Especially considering the Crying Titan, canonical father of all Yokai, is under New York. If there was going to be a higher concentration of Yokai in any peoples, it would be the native people of North America. Because that's where the goddamn empyrean is flowing.

But we see pretty much no obvious First Nations influence. We get some East Asian and some European, all under a heavily Americanized umbrella. I mean, yes, they did this because this is a show marketed to American children and that's what's recognizable to them, but still. I needed it to make sense.

And it gave me the perfect frame to hang a blood-soaked backdrop.

“So you do understand.” Donnie presses his lips together. “I don’t think all humans deserve to die for it.” “I don’t think so either.” He must look surprised, because Draxum looks down at him, amused. “What? Deserve is a rather heavy word. I’m not speaking of deserving. I’m speaking of survival. Humans and Yokai cannot coexist. One of us will destroy the other. I do not intend to allow my people to languish in the dark while the humans choke us out.”

This is really the cornerstone of Draxum's beliefs. Yes, he's acting out of hatred and anger, but I didn't want that to be his whole thing. That's not as compelling, and Draxum's intelligent enough to need a concrete reason. And I mean...from his perspective, relations with humans have always gone sour eventually. And his people end up paying the price for that in blood.

“What makes you so sure?” “It has been foretold.” “What, like a prophecy?” “Exactly. There is a prophecy that predicts-” “You haven’t read much Greek literature, have you?” Donnie shifts in his binds. “Oedipus? Cronos? Or are those guys too old for you too? Let’s see, we have the Mahabharata. Macbeth. Sun, Moon, and Talia. Have you read Harry Potter?” “What-” Draxum closes his eyes. “Child, what in the world are you talking about?” “Those are all stories of self-fulfilling prophecies. In every one of those stories, the actions taken to avoid the prophecy cause it to come to fruition. Cronos eats his kids because he was told one of them would overthrow him, but that just makes his kid angry enough to do it. Talia is foretold to be killed by a splinter of flax, so her father bans flax from the house. The first time she sees someone spinning flax, she doesn’t know what it is and pricks her finger due to her curiosity and inexperience.” “...Why would a splinter of flax kill her?” “I always assumed there was some context lost in the translation, because that part never really made sense. Anyway, the point is that trying to prevent the prophecy just made things worse. It likely never would have come true, if people had simply done nothing.”

I'd like to call back to Draxum's speech to the Shredder in the finale. He does his big dramatic betrayal because he realizes that the prophecy foretelling the destruction of the Yokai was not the humans, but Shredder himself.

But he conveniently leaves out his own role in that. Draxum brought the Shredder back. Even before factoring in the orb he gave Big Mama, pulling Karai from her hell dimension, even without the work he did recovering the cursed metal-like, even if the Foot got every piece of armor the could get their hands on without him, they still wouldn't have finished it because Splinter had the last piece. And there's no way Splinter would have allowed it to be taken. Even Draxum couldn't defeat him in combat. The only reason Splinter gave it up was to save his sons-the sons that were shown kicking the Foot's ass all episode. If it was just them, they couldn't have captured the turtles. No Draxum, no Shredder.

Which makes the entirety of Rise a self-fulfilling prophecy in itself. In trying to destroy what he thought was the greatest threat to his people, Draxum created the very thing that could end them.

“No, it would have been a regular prophecy, like Cassandra predicting the fall of Troy.” “So you do know your Greek literature!” Donnie almost smiles at that. “Potentially. But far more likely that the prophecy simply doesn’t come to pass, like the thousands of other prophecies that are forgotten. We only hear about the ones that come true, after all. And from a simply mathematical standpoint, some of them must come true.” “I understand what you’re trying to do, and I understand your point. But you are a child playing at war.”

Yeah, he doesn't have a good answer here. So he just dismisses Donnie's point. Reminds me of my own dad!

“Well, maybe you need a child’s point of view,” Donnie huffs, rolling his eyes. “Have you ever thought maybe you’re too far into this to see what you’re doing?” He expects Draxum to call him names again, but he’s quiet for an uncharacteristic amount of time. Donnie turns his head, seeing Draxum leaning against his desk, a very far-away look in his eyes. “I know I was,” he finally says, so softly Donnie almost doesn’t hear him. “But I realized my mistake. I pulled out of it before it was too late.” He turns back to Donnie. “That’s why you’re here.”

A callback to Cass telling Draxum that the armor would kill him. Because really, Draxum's plan was stupid. He barely knew anything about this armor, the Foot, why they were so willing to give him this power. Yet he didn't ask questions. He didn't do any research. He trusted the Foot-humans, who had no love for his people and no reason to help him. Yet he plunged in. He was so enamored with the dark armor's power, so obsessed and blinded by bloodlust that he didn't stop to think about any of this. Not until Cass basically slapped him across the face and told him to snap out of.

And then he realized. He'd almost died-and died horribly, feeding a leashless monster. That was how lost he was in his bid for power. He had a whole-ass personal crisis before deciding to take up kidnapping as a hobby.

Donnie raises an eyebrow. “Kidnapping me was the less extreme option.” “Correct.” “I mean, yes, kidnapping one turtle isn’t as bad as unleashing a literal demon, but like…you couldn’t have found some middle ground?” “You’re my strongest arrow,” he replies simply. And it feels like someone’s dumped ice water over him. “Don’t be angry. I tried to compromise with you. I would have let you keep your name and your family, but you’re the one who refused to meet me in the middle.” Donnie just looks off to the side. “Think about it.” Draxum approaches his table, reaching out and grasping Donnie’s shackled hand, fingers curling around him like a claw. “You’re going to help me protect Yokai and mutants alike. We will do great work together, and when I lead my people into the sun with you by my side, your name will go down in history.” He does a little smile at that, like it’s a pleasant thought. “You just have to tell me what you want that name to be.”

I was kind of hoping someone would catch onto this. At this point, Draxum is still considering Donnie (or rather, his fantasy son who doesn't have a name yet) to be an accessory to his power. Like yeah, he wants him to be revered and rewarded after the fighting is done, but when the history books are written he'd be a chapter in Draxum's book. The next time he mentions the whole 'lead our people into the sun' thing, he says they'll do it 'side-by-side' because he now considers Galois an equal, and as time goes on he will eventually see himself as the person meant to help Galois on his path and set him up as the true savior of the Yokai.

[rphelperblog]

Walking Dead Rp Meme

inspired by the sweetest rper I have ever spoken to or witnessed before @handsbloodied​ - feel free to edit the quotes or change pronouns for rp purposes

"My mercy prevails over my wrath."

Why are we running? What are we doing?”

Don't talk. Think.”

You think God exists?”

I know what kind of man you are.”

We need to start treating him like an adult.”

You shoot me again? You best pray I'm dead.”

This isn't about what we believe anymore. It's about them.”

I was just trying to keep everybody safe.”

I was a fool, and you people saw that.”

Waste of an arrow.”

You can't just be the good guy and expect to live. Not anymore.”

“Ought to be polite to a man with a gun. Only common sense.”

"If I got the chance to do it again, I'd kill you all."

“Adolescence is a 20th century invention.”

Get one thing straight. You're staying? This isn't a democracy anymore.”

“You’re my brother.” 

The world we know is gone, but keeping our humanity? That's a choice.”

You're just gonna kill him?”

People in hell want slurpees.”

It's done. We do it today.”

"We are the end of the world."

There is no hope and you know it now, like I do, don't you? There is no hope for any of us.”

Please, Lord, punish me however you want, but show mercy on her.”

It's a waste of time all this hoping and praying.”

He was trying so hard to be reasonable, but that pushed my buttons even more.”

You want to kill me, you're going to have to do better than that wrench.”

“If I had known the world was ending, I would’ve brought better books.” 

“We don’t kill the living.” 

I'm responsible. I ain't gonna sit here while this fella takes this on alone.”

You're completely in over your head aren't you?”

You see 11 condoms, I see 11 minutes of my life I'm not getting back.”

Are you trying to buy my silence with fruit?”

Whatever it is, we all carry it.”

I ain't nobody's bitch.”

I'll control my people, you control yours.”

“I’m not the good guy anymore.”

You're a man of God, have some faith.”

"Everything now... Just consumes you."

"It's human nature to come together."

“We won’t get weak. That’s not in us anymore. We’ll make it work.” 

The pain doesn't go away. You just make room for it."

"As long as It's all of us, We can do anything." 

"People out there are always looking for an angle. Looking to play on your weakness ..."

“You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. Hell, you’re all gonna be doing that.”

I can't profess to understand God's plan, but when Christ promised a resurrection of the dead, I just thought he had something a little different in mind.”

I'm not the good guy anymore.”

“They’re screwing with the wrong people.”

“I’m not your governor.”

"Goodnight, Love."

"Look at the flowers."

"You gotta be who you are, not who you were."

"I can't profess to understand god's plan ..." 

"You honor the dead by going on, even when you're scared. You love because they don't get to."

“I try not to mix it up with the almighty anymore.”

I believe this one bloomed for your little girl.”

"I might be the one walking away, but you're the one who's leaving."

“Rest in peace. Now get up, and go to war.”

“You don’t look at him, you don’t talk to him, and I don’t make you chop anything off of him.”

Good thing we didn't do anything stupid like shoot it.”

“You like that, huh? Li’l Ass-Kicker?”

“I’ve got my fingers crossed for a little freaky deeky.”

“You got some beach-ball-sized lady nuts coming in kamikaze like that.”

“While they’re at it, I just want to point out to you that I’m not taking a scrap of your food.”

“Well, pardon me young man, excuse the shit out of my goddamn French, but did you just threaten me?” 

“There’s a compound bow and a machete with a red handle. That’s what I’m gonna use to kill you.”

“Funny how a little ‘Holy sh*t! Somebody’s gonna die!’ lights a fire under everybody’s ass!”

He'll be locked up in the barn unless you bust it open again.”

“Lucille’s beautiful, smooth surface is never gonna look the same, so why should yours?!”

Your bitch went window shopping. You want him? Go fetch him yourself.”

“If they can’t make it, we’ll just take this place.” 

C'mon, man, don't give me that gansta shit.”

[amerasdreams]

I went to Macbeth in the park.

I of course debated whether to go, it was sprinkling rain, and I would have to drive, and what it would be like etc. Then i thought i need lunch anyway and i can get it on the way and enough time if i go now. So i got Burger King on the way and in the river town got some blueberry cheesecake ice cream, since I've wanted ice cream lately and I was going to get it in the town when I was staying there with the cats

then I ate my ice cream and then meal (I usually eat dessert 1st bc sugar makes me hungry) parked along the river listening to This American Life and then i went to the park and sat on the bench and looked at tumblr and read a little on my phone

Then it seemed it was starting, i went up to drink some water bc i only got a frozen fantasy

I wasn't exactly sure where it was and it seemed there weren't many people there and I did not want want be the only one watching. I am too tired to have to pretend to have energy and be anyone's focus.

And it was going to be behind the park museum building then I saw ppl going over to the shelter house instead as I spied from inside the building looking at display about Native American arrow heads

And I got just in time for the play. My sister said she was going to go but she didn't show up. I told her a out it a while ago and she probably forgot or something.

It was a good play. I had seen Macbeth in college so I had vague memories but didn't remember much. Except the witches

Then toward the end-- the part that starts with "tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow" -- I was unexpectedly hit with that bc i didn't remember it was in that play

This is the part grandpa had memorized and he would occasionally quote it. And of course when you're tired things hit harder. Esp when unexpected. so i started crying and there aren't many ppl there so I know th actors can see and probably think im crying bc of their acting

Which is true but not only for the reasons they might think, no one would guess this. I try to stop crying and be inconspicuous but sometimes when you try to stop crying it makes you think more of why you're crying..... so I just made myself concentrate on the last part of the play and it worked.

It is this connection though.... through the years... Shakespeare wrote this long ago and my grandpa memorized it in college because it struck him, these words and now they are striking my soul, connection all these layers and echoing through time

[hawkstincan]

for the ship bingo - Coldflash, Coldwave, and/or Coldflashwave

Sorry it took me quite some time. My head is a mess and I hope my rambling make sense.

COLDFLASH

Coldflash suddenly walked into my life one day and just… never left. 

I heard that Arrowverse's shows were piles of burning shit, “never watch any of them”, “arrow started good but”, “the flash is soo dumb”. And I just shrugged and proceeded with my life. Until I stumbled on coldflash. I think it was a fic? Maybe a crossover because I rarely read unfamiliar fandoms. 

The next thing I remember was binge watching Arrow, The Flash, Supergirl and Legends. One can’t just watch one show, okay? I watched it all, cried for Len’s unfair ending and went to go through the whole ship tag xD (which I did. i may have started before i finished my catch up with the shows but who cares?)

Aside from my fixation, coldflash just works magic for me. It has everything I love about pairings. Chemistry? Check. Ability to work together? Check. Banter? Check. Same core values? Check. Age gap? Check. Sunshine and emotionally constipated? Check. “Leave him for his own good” vibes? Check. 

Coldflash suddenly became not just a ship. It became the ship. It became OTP. I was multishipper for most of my life and it was a strange new feeling. I tried to read other ships with Barry and my brain just went NOPE. Same with Len.

Now I’m more open to other ships with Barry but I can’t read fics with Len if he has no relationships with Barry. There must be something. There is always something. 

I don’t think I can voice better than this quote tbh:

"Barry and I are… complicated. As Cold and Flash, we're enemies. We don't pull our punches. Our battles are very real. We have caused one another some serious injuries in the past, and will likely do so again in the future. It’s part of the lives we lead and we both accept that. As Snart and Allen, we've teamed up a couple of times when there's a threat too big for either one of us alone." Snart hesitated a moment, slipping his hands into his pockets. "But as Len and Barry? There's no one I trust more to have my back. Not even Mick or Lisa. I'm the one he runs to when everything gets too much. He’s the one I go to when I need to not be me. We're more than friends, but we’ll never be lovers. I'd take a bullet for him. He'd kill for me. We're soulmates. Platonic soulmates, that is."

A Shot At Something Good by canthelpmyselves

Platonic coldflash is always in the back of my mind. I can’t help it. I don’t think I want to. 

COLDWAVE

It’s interesting, I see how and why it’s working. But… I’m not into it. I love both Len and Mick and I like their partnership. I like how Len looks after Mick. That they have history together. But my stupid brain is like “oh, Len’s here, Mick’s here, where is Barry? Barry should come in right about now”. So yeah. I love it though when coldwave acts like a parental figures for Barry. I saw it once, I think? I would like to read more fics with this dynamic. 

COLDFLASHWAVE

Won’t lie it took me some time to see how wonderful this ship can be. How much I can love their collective dynamic. How silly and joyful they can be written together. I’m always hesitant about reading ot3. I hate love triangles. And was afraid that ot3 will be about a love triangle until they resolve all their issues and meet on the same page. Yada yada. Surely there are fics like that out there, but I found much more great stories about ot3s just navigating their own relationships, learning how to communicate and being together without envy and jealousy among them. So coldflashwave is like a blessing to my stupid messy heart. It gives so much joy! And I still have a ship tag to go through 👀

[stormyoceans]

[VICE VERSA episode 2 parts 1&2]

“It’s the same as hitting on someone, keep pushing and pushing” You, stop talking right now

Ah yes the shooting arrows scene, amazing

Talay last time you two spoke he told you he hates you, what makes you think antagonising him on his archery skills is gonna make that any better

“Move, I need space.” Tun: “oh I’ll move. Very very far away”

Looove that Ohm goes back to being Sea as soon as Tun’s left

And when he talks to Tun he’s Ohm again

THE HALF-HEARTED PICTURE-TAKING

Given that the whole “Tess dated a girl Tun liked” thing isn’t even true where the hell did people get that idea, especially since marriage is equal in this universe and so I assume/hope people are more accepting

“I’m a screenwriter, I have to believe in anything” Not sure how that works

Crying at how Talay’s wearing a different outfit everytime he talks to Tun in this episode, as if it’s the fault of the clothing

YEAH SO THAT SCRIPT BELONGED TO HIM /AND/ HIS FRIENDS AND HE JUST LEFT IT ON THE FLOOR (I assume they have digital copies but still)

W h a t is the music playing as Talay puts an arm around Tun’s shoulders

The half-hearted hand tap ;;

“Take that stupidity to your grave” I’ve always loved that line, it’s so fucking good

“Can you make the light pinker?” THIS GUY GETS IT

Talay @ the pink light: >:( 

“The reason I broke up with you. The truth is…” I’m a lesbian

Also I get it now, people believe the “stealing Tun’s crush” story because Tess is a piece of shit

Ah yes the first instance of drunk!Talay blurting out universe-swapping stuff

Can’t believe I was such a dumb-dumb the first time watching and didn’t realise Tun was now Puen basically until Jimmy appeared on-screen

Gorgeous transition though

They love the on-key singing too so WHAT’S THE DEAL HERE, THIS IS MAKING ME UNREASONABLY ANGRY

“He loved that cat more than his life apparently” Tbh same and that’s not even a joke, I have three cats and I love cats to death and I’d sooner end up in the hospital than run one over

Puen: “what are you talking about?” *tries to act cool by drowning his anxiety in a drink*

Puen died in a car accident, almost hit a cat, and later in the show gets caught drunk driving, this guy should not be allowed behind the wheel

Puen I get that you won’t tell him your name now but you’ll tell him eventually right? …. RIGHT??

Talay acting so all-knowing about the situation all of a sudden, these dorks are both trying too hard to look cool

“Whom should I go to?” “Me” Puen: *d-doki*

Those cups couldn’t be any emptier if they tried

Okay but what if he HAD been naked under there Talay

Kdfjksdl the drunk kissing scene is so fecking cute, one of my fave scenes tbh

I’m glad Talay didn’t use tongue because his breath must stink like hell

TAKE THOSE SHOES OFF OR I’LL THROW THEM AT YOUR FUCKING HEAD

“Me hurting you sounds more like it” At least ASK if he’s into that, god

“Why did you mention it in the first place?” BECAUSE HE WAS WORRIED ABOUT HAVING HURT YOU WHILE HAMMERED, YOU’RE THE ONE WHO MADE IT ABOUT SEX

Those bread cone thingies look delicious ngl

So I loved this from the get-go but I still love that Talay guesses “Rose” and neither of them comments how that’s “weird” because it’s a girl’s name

“Don’t you know the quote from that movie?” Puen: hang on I gotta be as extra about my answer as possible

AI’DANG! AI’DANG, AI’DANG, AI’DANG <3

Is… is the cone in his mouth a metaphor for…….

“Tess didn’t go easy on the car” It looked fine to me when you tried to give Tun a lift

Oh my goddddd I love this girl, I don’t know if she’s a cameo but I’m in love with her energy

Also she’s you when Puen starts kissing Talay asljdfkldd

talay showing up in front of tun with a new outfit every time: that will throw him off his rhythm STREET SMARTS!!!!!!!

yeah the reason why everyone believed that tess dated a girl tun liked is because the asshole actually went around BRAGGING about stealing her from tun to all his friends. that alone already tells me everything i need to know about tess but somehow he's gonna get even worse, if you can believe it. also i know love is blind and all that but tun.... my dude....... you can do SO MUCH BETTER

[ENTER PUEN] [EXIT MY SANITY] LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

im gonna take a moment to lose my mind over the lyrics of the song puen decides to sing because "DID IT ACTUALLY HAPPEN OR AM I DREAMING/US MEETING EACH OTHER IN THIS WORLD/DON'T KNOW HOW TO PUT IT/BUT WITH ALL MY HEART I BELIEVE THIS IS/A MIRACLE THAT WE MET/IT'S A MIRACLE THAT I LOVE YOU/IT'S THE GREATEST MIRACLE I'VE EVER WITNESSED/OH YOU ARE THE MIRACLE" [FROTHING AT THE MOUTH CLAWING AT THE WALLS GOING RABID] literally the most puentalay song to ever exist they're gonna play it at their wedding and slow dance to it and puen still hums it to talay from time to time when he can't believe he actually gets to spend the rest of his life with talay

DRUNK KISS MY BELOVED!!!!!!!!!!! GOD I TRULY ADORE THAT SCENE SO MUCH. i still can't believe talay really tried true love's kiss as a way to bring them back to their universe sfjksgdj he is such an endearing and dramatic drunk!!!! i really wish we could have had at least one more scene with talay being drunk around puen because talay is usually very self-conscious and tends to keep everything to himself, but when he's drunk he's just so openly affectionate and honest!!!!!! i know he would cling to puen the entire time and tell puen all kinds of things he'd be to embarrassed to say while sober and puen would be SO FOND!!!!!! anyway, back to the kiss, i know we all laugh at puen's expressions during that scene, but i love how realistic his reaction is!!!! also episode 2 and 3 are so important to me because you can literally pinpoint every single moment that makes puen fall in love with talay and this is such an important one for both of them!!!!!

“Me hurting you sounds more like it” At least ASK if he’s into that, god <<<<< IM NOT SPEAKING I REFUSE TO SPEAK

Is… is the cone in his mouth a metaphor for……. <<<<< 😏😏😏👀👀👀🤭🤭🤭 (apparently im 12 sfjksgdksg)

Also she’s you when Puen starts kissing Talay asljdfkldd

WE'RE BOTH SQUEALING WITH DELIGHT KICKING OUR FEET COVERING OUR FACE BLUSHING SHE'S JUST LIKE ME FR (also yeah, she's sadly just a cameo but i really like her as an actress i'd love to see her in a GL)

ending this by saying that im forever mourning THIS archery scene from the mock trailer that didn't make it into the actual show:

LOOK AT THE CHEMISTRY THE FLAVOR THE SERVE BRING HER BACK

[chaos-has-theories]

Part 1: The Eye of John

You’ve heard of „Alecto is a Resurrection Beast“, „Alecto is Gaia“ and „Alecto is a seamonster“, you’ve heard of John’s sun symbolism, now get ready for:

John is Ra and Alecto is Mehet-Weret

or less specifically Hathor, or The Eye of Ra

[Image description: A picture in the Ancient Egyptian style. It shows a large blue cow with stars along its belly. There are nine people under it, keeping it steady. An empty boat floats by its back legs, and another boat by its front legs, this one with the god Ra as a passenger. A large red arrow points at the cow and is labelled “Alecto???”.]

(More under the cut, because this shit will get long.)

First, for the record, I am emphatically not a learned egyptologist, so I might be getting things wrong here.

Secondly, ancient Egyptian mythology is a gorgeous mess. You can’t ever just say that x is the child of y, because they’re bound to also be siblings, and spouses, and x is also a and b and y is also b and c and... yeah.

Anyway, let’s do this.

---

I was rereading Harrow the Ninth with my roommates and we got to this part:

"Your sword will not rend its armour”, he said, with his back turned to them. “It’s weapons will ruin your flesh. It will not stop until it has subsumed its quarry.” (HtN p. 329)

and I thought to myself, huh, that kind of sounds like the Eye of Ra.

So let’s talk about that!

Now, the main story of the Eye of Ra is that, long ago, when the gods were still like, living on earth with the humans, people started to criticize Ra, their ruler.

That pissed off Ra, so he sent off his „Eye“ to punish them. She did, killing almost all the humans, but then Ra couldn’t really get her to stop. So the gods made a bunch of dyed beer with some blood in it, and the Eye drank it all and became drunk and docile.

So far, so good. Technically, at that point Teacher is talking about the Sleeper, but we all know that there are heavy parallels between the Sleeper and the Body. Also, there’s more where that came from.

"My lord,” said Augustine formally, “you told us the truth about Annabel–about Alecto–because she knew the truth too, and you never could control her.” (HtN, p. 478)

”Annabel Lee... was not the dying kind,” said the Emperor. It might be more accurate to say that I switched her off.” “You came to us and we asked, Is she dead?” said Mercy. “And you said, As dead as I can make her... I remember, Lord, that you wept.” (HtN, p. 479)

Neither Alecto nor the Eye of Ra are stopped by death or reason but instead kept somehow subdued.

But it gets better, and weirder.

The most famous version of the Eye of Ra is probably Sakhmet, the lion goddess. Sometimes she's a cat, Bastet; but just as often she’s depicted as a cow, Hathor.

There's a specific version of this myth called „The Book of the Heavenly Cow“ or „The Destruction of Mankind“. Here’s a translation of it.

I just learned about this myth. I learned about it under the Name of „Mehet-Weret“. Hathor and Mehet-Weret are… the same goddess? Not the same goddess? Sometimes the same goddess? They’re both cow themed, and occasionally take the same roles. Mythology is confusing, y’all.

Here’s what Wikipedia has to say about it:

Hathor was given the epithets "mistress of the sky" and "mistress of the stars", and was said to dwell in the sky with Ra and other sun deities. Egyptians thought of the sky as a body of water through which the sun god sailed, and they connected it with the waters from which, according to their creation myths, the sun emerged at the beginning of time. This cosmic mother goddess was often represented as a cow. Hathor and Mehet-Weret were both thought of as the cow who birthed the sun god and placed him between her horns. Like Nut, Hathor was said to give birth to the sun god each dawn.

Since I remembered the name Mehet-Weret and was very proud of that, that’s where I actually started my research here, and…

Mehet-Weret or Mehturt (Ancient Egyptian: mḥt-wrt) is an ancient Egyptian deity of the sky in ancient Egyptian religion. Her name means "Great Flood". She was mentioned in the Pyramid Texts. In ancient Egyptian creation myths, she gives birth to the sun at the beginning of time, and in art she is portrayed as a cow with a sun disk between her horns. She is associated with the goddesses Neith, Hathor, and Isis, all of whom have similar characteristics, and like them she could be called the "Eye of Ra". Mehet-Weret is primarily known as being the "Celestial Cow" or "Cow Goddess" because of her physical characteristics, but she contributes to the world in more ways than that. She is also the Goddess of Water, Creation, and Rebirth; in Egyptian mythology, Mehet-Weret is one of the main components in the making and survival of life. (...) She was credited for the birth of Re, also known as the Sun God Ra; she is also the one who protects Re. (Wikipedia)

SHE’S (a version of) THE PRIMORDIAL FLOOD, Y’ALL.

You said, “Teacher, what destroyed the House of the First?” “Not much,” said the Emperor, and he tried to smile. It was awful. “Rising sea levels and a massive nuclear fission chain reaction...it all went downhill from there.” (HtN p. 346)

"Even the devil bent for God to put a leash around her neck (...) But when the work was done (...) they bade him kill the saltwater creature before she could do them harm...” (HtN p. 328)

Next to you, the body said quietly, “The water is risen. So is the sun. We will endure.” (HtN p. 294)

On this same read-through I snagged on „The water is risen, so is the sun“ because it sounds so much like a quote, but I couldn’t find anything. Yes, John has sun symbolism and Alecto all that water stuff, but where is the connection?

Well, here. It’s just Ancient Egyptian Creation Myths.

The different creation myths have some elements in common. They all held that the world had arisen out of the lifeless waters of chaos (…) The sun was also closely associated with creation, and it was said to have first risen from the mound, as the general sun-god Ra.

That makes Alecto literally the First One. It makes her John’s protector as the Eye. It gives her a connection to water and and even death and the underworld. (It also gives her a connection to the sky, which always fits in a Space Fantasy.)

Essentially,

I can see two figures in Egyptian mythology that fit what we know of Alecto. Those would be the Eye of Ra, an uncontrollable creature of rage and revenge; and the flood from which the sun god rises during the creation of the world. And Mehet-Weret fits into both.

But you’re not convinced yet? Alright then. Remember how Hathor/Mehet-Weret is a cow?

"Oh, singular,” said Dulcinea quietly, more to herself than to Gideon. “Lipochrome...recessive.” (GtN, p. 106)

When she spoke at last, she sounded frozen and numb. “I see. I understand. Lipochrome. Recessive. You are the evidence.” (HtN, p. 410)

I did not know what the fuck to say to her incoherent spew. She said, ragged, peevish: “What? No tongue in your head, you–you mutant, you mistake, you great big calf-eyed fuck-up?”

If you’re like me and know nothing about biology, you’ll hop over to Wikipedia  and find this:

A lipochrome (from Greek λίπος ("fat") and χρῶμα ("color")) is a naturally occurring, fat-soluble pigment. Lipofuscin—a product of fat breakdown in lysosomes—is a type of lipochrome that is associated with the decomposition of cell membranes. Beta carotene, a lipochrome, was found in the retina, pigment epithelium, and iris of cattle eyes.

This is the entirety of the article by the way.

…and I was wondering why Tamsyn didn’t just call the eyes „Amber“.

Now you might say, but Chaos, you know they’re not really her eyes…

Yeah.

They’re John’s eyes.

They are, you might say, the Eyes of John.

---

THERE WILL BE MORE PARTS because I am LOSING MY MIND OVER THIS but this post is already longer than it has any right to be.

In the meantime, here’s an article on Mehet-Weret that I think is actually well researched and probably does a better job explaining how all these different gods fit together than I ever could.

[frombeyondtheblackhole]

Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 9

Foolish flinched. Qackity’s shouting stopped abruptly. It was warmer (Las Nevadas was surprisingly cold). Foolish slowly opened his eyes. An open grave stood at his feet. His heart jumped into his throat and he stumbled backwards, falling on his back. He stared dumbfounded as a bee flew out from the grave and landed on his knee for a moment before flying away. Quackity was nowhere to be seen. 

His breathing slowed and he looked around. He was in a graveyard next to a church. Was he dead? Was this limbo? What had happened? He wasn’t supposed to die… but he had died before. But if he had died just now he still should have had his third life, he should have respawned… maybe he had. Maybe he was still alive… That made more sense. No, wait, he still had all of his stuff, if he had died his inventory should have been empty… Foolish held his head in his hands and stared at the ground.

“You ok there, friend?” 

Foolish’s head snapped up. A man with neon green hair stood on the other side of the stone wall surrounding the graveyard. Foolish quickly picked himself up and brushed himself off. “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine… um- this may seem like an odd question, but, am I dead?”

The man laughed, “I don’t know, are you? I mean, I assume you're not dead, cause I’m not dead, unless you’re un-dead, if you know what I mean.” 

Foolish let out a deep breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “Alright, I’m alive, i'm not dead,” He muttered, staring at the sky.

“You sure you’re fine?” The man asked again, putting air quotes around the ‘fine’. “Cause, you don’t seem fine…” 

Foolish shook his head “No, really, don’t worry about me, I was just a bit disoriented, that’s all.”

The man pursed his lips and raised a brow “You asked me if you were dead… not if you had died. Which means you knew there was a chance you might get stuck in a respawn glitch. Have you been messing with server magic?” 

“You make that sound like a bad thing.” Foolish scowled and crossed his arms looking down at the man. He wasn’t in his twenty-three foot form but even in this form he stood almost a foot taller than the other man.  

The man shook his head “It’s not necessarily a bad thing, just dangerous. I mean, I would be a bit of a hypocrite if I condemned people for messing with server magic.”

Foolish didn’t look impressed. “It’s only dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing.” 

“I mean, I guess.” The man said rubbing the back of his neck as he contemplated Foolish’s words “But no one is stupid enough to mess around long enough to get the practice...” He trailed off as he looked up to see Foolish looking at him with an incredulous look, “Oh.” 

Foolish finally relented and his expression softened, “Maybe you're right, I mean, my name is Foolish after all,”

The man chuckled, “Maybe we're both a bit crazy. I’m Joe, Joe Hills. Nice to meet you,” He said, climbing over the low stone wall and reaching out his hand. Foolish smiled and shook it. Joe had a firm grip.

“So you said you have experience with server magic, what can you do?” Foolish asked as the two of them walked out of the graveyard and over to the church. This church was much nicer than church prime. As a builder Foolish could appreciate the detail put into the architecture.   

Joe shrugged as he sat down on the steps and leaned back on his elbows looking up at the sky, “I can see better in the dark If I want to. Honestly, I don’t really mess with it much anymore.” 

“Why not?” Foolish asked, leaning against the wall. 

Joe shrugged but Foolish noticed his grip tighten into a ball. “It wasn’t worth it. A friend of mine got hurt and almost didn’t respawn. Actually, she should be around here somewhere, I wonder where she went?” 

---

Cleo stood on a concrete road getting yelled at by an angry man with a scar through his left eye and a blue beanie.

 “Who the fuck are you? What the fuck did you do to Foolish? Where is Foolish.” 

“Aaa, Foolish is a Zombie!” another man wearing glasses and green suspenders yelled. 

Cleo staggered backwards and summoned a sword from her inventory, “Who am I, what about who are you?”   

“You better tell me, right fucking now, what the hell you did to Foolish or I’ll-”

“You’ll do what? Don’t try me, I’ll put this sword through your skull I will,” Cleo bluffed. 

The man with the scar summoned an axe.  “Charlie, go get Purpled, tell him we have an intruder in Las Nevadas.” 

The man in green, presumably Charlie, looked at him perplexed “But, Quackity from Las Nevadas, why are we attacking Zombie Foolish?” 

“Damn it Charlie, Just get Purpl-” 

Cleo didn’t let him finish. A yell ripped from her lungs as she charged him, sword swinging. Quackity startled and blocked with the shaft of his axe. He shoved her off and she staggered back. Cleo dug her heels in swinging the sword like a club. There was a burst of pain, or more like cold (Pain felt different ever since the undeath) as his axe cut into her shoulder. But he was bleeding too. His axe returned to his inventory as he clutched his arm and staggered back. Cleo gripped her sword tighter, breathing hard, her eyes locked on him. 

She felt the impact and another burst of cold as an arrow hit her in the chest. Her head snapped up, there was a kid in purple firing arrows from a crossbow as he ran towards them. He was wearing full netheriet.

Cleo turned and ran.

“Stop her, she fucking did something to Foolish!” Quackity shouted. She didn’t stop running as arrows landed about her feet. Down the road through a tunnel and past a stone fortress. Cleo scrambled off the road, over a hill. She could hear them still behind her. Dodging through the hills she was able to shake them by looping back around behind them as they continued on. 

Once they were gone she slowed down. She touched a hand to her shoulder. It was throbbing with a dull ache and it felt cold, a deep cold like ice in her veins. She looked down. The arrow was still in her chest. She needed to do something about that. 

She was back at the fortress. Cleo slid down the hill, climbing behind the wall and slumped against the stone. She gritted her teeth and pulled the arrow from her chest with a grunt, dropping it in the grass. A golden apple appeared in her hand and she took a bite, the juice tingling in her mouth as the regen and absorption began to take effect. 

The throbbing eased a little and the wounds began to close. She looked up and froze. An enderman stared back at her with mismatched eyes. No wait, not an enderman, at least not quite. Half of his face was white. 

“Hey Tubbo, I think I found out what Quackity was shouting about.” The half-enderman kid called over his shoulder. 

Cleo staggered to her feet, her sword out. “I won't hesitate to-” 

The half-enderman backed up and raised his empty hands “Oh no, we're not with Quackity,” He explained. 

Cleo scowled but lowered her sword. “Well isn’t that lovely, someone who doesn’t want to stab me.”  

He looked alarmed, “Oh, I wouldn’t do that- I mean, I definitely don’t want to do that.” Now that she got a better look at him he looked kind of young, he was tall but in the lanky teenager kind of way. He looked to be 18 or 19, maybe 17. His suit probably made him look older.  

“Oh hey, so what was Big Q so mad about?” Another kid said as he came around the building. He stopped short when he saw Cleo. “Oh…” He was much shorter than the ender-kid. Two horns curled up out of his brown hair and almost every inch of exposed skin was covered in burn scars. Cleo let her sword return to her inventory. 

“Big man, why is there a funny looking zombie in our base?” the goat kid said 

Cleo bristled, “I’m still a person, thank you.”

The goat kid looked back at Cleo  “Ooooh- oops.”

“Now look what you’ve done, you’ve gone and insulted her.”

“I didn’t meeean to, how was I supposed to know?” The goat kid wined. 

The two bickered like a married couple. Cleo coughed “Um- would either of you two be able to explain what is going on,”

“Haven’t got a fucking clue,” The goat kid chirped, a little to cheerfully. 

Cleo pursed her lips, “Well, could you at least tell me where I am?” 

“Um… The road between Las Nevadas and Spawn. Or do you mean here-here. This is our cookie shop.”  The ender-kid explained.

Cleo blinked.

“I think she means the server big man,” The goat kid said, “This is the Dream SMP.”

Cleo blinked again. So not Hermitcraft. Shit. 

---

The goat kid introduced himself as Tubbo and the ender-kid as Ranboo. Cleo explained what had happened, which made Tubbo laugh. It turned out that the cookie outpost and Las Nevadas were in conflict and Tubbo liked the idea of doing something that would, in his words “Piss off Big Q.” 

Cleo tried to return to Hermitcraft but was met with an error message. Tubbo and Ranboo offered to let her stay in Snowchester till she figured things out. They had no idea how she got there but they didn’t seem too concerned about it.

Snowchester was surprisingly far away from what the kids were calling a cookie shop. To Cleo it looked suspiciously like a military outpost but who was she to judge? 

Snowchester was a quaint little walled in town, overlooked by a massive mansion worthy of any Hermitcraft base. There was a tower, docs, and a little wheat field mixed in with little log and stone houses.  The air was crisp and cold, light snow fell around them landing on her hair and bare arms. Untouched snow coated the steps to most of the houses and closely shuttered windows looked back at her. The ocean lapped against the shore and the sound of a boat bumping against the pier carried up through the town. A single seagull landed on a stone wall. It looked at Cleo and cawed.  

Ranboo and Tubbo lead Cleo around a strangely industrial building on a hill in the middle of the town with “Danger, keep out” signs on the doors. 

“So what’s in there,” Cleo asked, nodding towards the industrial building. 

Ranboo raised his brows and looked at Tubbo. Tubbo pursed his lips “Oh nothing much, that’s just where we do equipment testing. You’re not allowed in there,” he added. There was finality to his tone. Cleo wondered what he was hiding and if it was worth snooping around to find out, but there was a dark conviction in the way that the kid with too many scars said it. The way the ender-kid hovered at his side anxiously watching everything. Maybe she should be careful not to make more enemies.  

They lead her to a little house behind the industrial building. “This used to be Foolish’s but he moved out so you can stay here for now,” Tubbo explained opening the door and letting them inside. 

“Foolish… the guy who Quackity thinks I kidnaped? You’re giving me his house?” Cleo scoffed looking around. A square table and chairs stood off to one side, a counter with a furnace and cabinets lined the back wall and a cactus in a pot sat by the front door.    

“Well, it’s not really his house anymore, he hasn’t lived here for months,” Tubbo shrugged. 

Cleo sighed, “So long as he won’t mind. Goodness this whole situation is a mess.” 

Ranboo gave her a sympathetic smile.  

“Welp,” Tubbo clapped his hands. “We’ll let you get settled in. Just don’t go snooping around in people’s homes, we are pretty private people here.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Cleo said absently, still looking around the room.

Tubbo and Ranboo left, closing the door behind them. 

There was a silence and then Cleo jumped at the sound of someone drinking milk. She spun around summoning her sword, freezing as the invisibility melted away to reveal Etho standing in the corner. 

“Finally, I thought they were never going to leave,” Etho muttered.

“Etho! What are you doing here?” Cleo bristled. 

Etho looked sheepishly off to the side as he rubbed the back of his head. “We’ll, I might have been following you. If you mean here on this server, we don’t really know. Oh yeah, TFC’s here too. We’ve been stuck on this server for about two weeks now. Least, I’ve been, TFC showed up about a week ago.”

“So wait, You're telling me you have been stuck on this server for two weeks?”

Etho nodded “Yup. Come on let's get out of here before they come back. We can talk at my secret base.” 

Cleo pulled away “Wait, wait. Why? Why were you sneaking around? Why are we avoiding those kids? I would like a good reason before I turn down their hospitality.”

“This server isn’t what it seems to be. It’s seriously glitched out. Haven’t you noticed how many scars everyone has here, how many hybrids there are.” 

Now that Cleo thought about it, even the ender-kid, Ranboo, had scars that looked like tears running down his face. Scars only happened when there was a glitch during respawn so they were pretty rare, the fact that three of the five people she had seen so far had obvious scars was concerning, especially with how bad the scars on that Tubbo kid were. On top of that, Quackity looked like he might be some kind of bird hybrid, with small golden wings, while Tubbo was a goat and Cleo had no idea what Ranboo really was. Hybrids were the result of pretty strong server glitches, and from what Etho was saying those guys weren’t the only ones. 

“So the server is glitchy, that doesn't make them bad people,”  

“There are places on this server that have been blown up all the way down to bedrock. Those kids who seemed so nice, they have nukes in that building right outside. There is a prison that everyone here is terrified of, seemingly for good reason. The Warden that guards it almost killed me while chasing me and TFC away, and said something about hunting us down and killing us till we were completely dead.”  

Cleo blanched “Completely dead… like, they have a way of reliably preventing respawning here.” She remembered what it felt like being stuck in the void unable to respawn. For Joe it had only been a couple of minutes, for her it had felt like hours.

“I don’t know,” Etho shrugged. “I just think it would be best if we all kept a low profile till we can find a way out of here.” 

“I… I trust you, Etho. But I don’t want to leave without letting those kids know that I won’t be staying here. They seem like nice kids, I’d rather not just disappear on them.” 

Etho hesitated, then nodded “Alright, Just be careful, and take this,” He said handing her two invis pots. “You can find me in the sewers under their shopping district, there is a community center in the middle of a lake, the entrance to the tunnels is underneath it.”

Cleo took the potions and smiled reassuringly, “Don’t worry, I got this. I’ll be fiiine.”

“Ok,” Etho nodded and pulled his facemask down. He drank an invis potion before leaving the building.

Cleo sighed. Perma-death hum, would that even work on her? Seeing as she already kinda died before. She didn’t want to have to find out.

[incarnateirony]

Someone dropped this in my submission box instead of ask box, “So I’m trying to genuinely understand what you’re saying is you understand corporate execs at the CW had a hand in the ending of supernatural? I’m not judging not attacking I swear I’m just trying to make sense of it because I had no idea about any of this up till now because I had stayed out of online fandom because well for years it felt big but anyways am I getting this right?”

---

The CW has a hand in everything. Here’s how this generally works.

The authors have ~relative~ freedom on a show. That is to say, the execs really don’t sit there splitting the nuances of the storytelling the fandom is receiving. They generally don’t even identify major markers that any of us would know (see: not even recognizing what the Roadhouse is.) -- we all knew the original ending had TFW at the Roadhouse as framed and spoiled by 15.04 among other details, and the whole “heaven/mental bar” theme from DSOTM, Nihilism, and Last Call all amplified this as an inevitability--but when you ask about “hey, is there a bar in heaven?” and get a “no?” that tells you they don’t even understand *ancient* plot beats like the Roadhouse, much less the ramifications of what it’s supposed to entail. Oh look at that, the roadhouse was just in fucking heaven like we said, but you identified it as a “cabin” because of filming locations and your basic notes.

Corporate has very basic compliance demands. They expect X, Y, and Z. What X Y and Z are across different shows vary depending on their markets. As long as the authors operate within X Y and Z, the corporate face essentially works off of synopsis of pitches and ideas.

This is also why I’ve talked about queer writing history and people being careful what they call queerbait: you don’t know what their X Y and Z are. The WB for example does not really CARE about representation. I’ve blogged about this often. We’re dollar signs. If they can package a new product to market it explicitly as LGBTQ fare, then they’ll turn you into a revenue machine by feeding you that particular fodder. When it comes to legacy shows--which is funny, because when the suit went off in my DM about this, they used the exact same phrasing as me--they’re going to play it safe, especially if they don’t truly understand the returns from the demographics they’re observing.

The space between X Y and Z is where the authors have liberty to push and, the longer and harder they push, the louder the content is allowed to get.

Here! I’ll even quote them directly, somewhat truncated because they ranted for fucking PARAGRAPHS.

“In reference to the media landscape, on a corporate level we do not distinguish fandoms. [...] That said, legacy shows such at Arrow, Supernatural, and even Flash are relics and we never really endeavored to reinvent the wheel on a corporate level, we are more focused on shows that are newer and still in our pipeline to premiere. [...] As for social media like all businesses and brands the engagement itself is key, but the content of the engagement is mostly irrelevant, though every show does have certain keywords that are often used in conjunction with harsher interactions blacklisted.”

The funny part is, they thought they were preaching to me like this was new information, but those of you that have been around my blog will PROBABLY RECOGNIZE this is almost VERBATIM exactly what I have told everybody over the years. Enough I half-suspect some trolls out there will think i wrote it myself and made it up and lob that accusation around. But there’s about 50 people that watched this conversation as it unfolded.

If you guys get mad? You’re still giving them PR. If you engage the content? You’re giving them PR. If you guys get bitchy ENOUGH? They completely blacklist a certain kind of engagement. I have literally been telling you all of this for years.

They don’t care who you are or what you want, just if you’re watching and what they at-best roughly estimate your demographic as desiring. So for example, Supernatural reading as a largely non-urban white demographic in its viewership, especially with a heavier lean in red states than most shows on the network, they presume to cater to what they perceive that demographic wants, rather than individualizing the understanding of the content, because they do not distinguish the shows or fandoms. “Oh, heavier republican white non-urban demographic” is where their understanding ends at, which is why they’re going to be utterly mystified why even my trump-voting republican neighbor from rural Alabama looked at the end result and went “what the fuck?” -- they weren’t expecting a big gay confession, but they were expecting a different sort of final tone.

Of course they’re never going to take that on for themselves and go “wow, we’re giant blazing dumbasses that understand nothing about the show!” -- they’ll, for example, claim they don’t leave network notes, when they’re still the ones passing material along about demographics and expectations etc etc. Their notes are *basic*. They do not leave *extensive* notes. Because extensive notes require extensive understanding of the content.

So for example: Berens spent since S9 slowly gaying up our show. Since they do not pay attention to the fine details of the story contents (lol no bar in heaven lolololol just a cabin lololol), he never got a note to *stop*. But it was not within the original structure plans and didn’t technically fit the demographic notes. The show continued to get aggressively gayed up, and Berens never really signed a note like “hey, I’m gaying it the fuck up” so even fandom reporters were going “THERE’S NO INTENT THERE!!!!!” -- berens operated in his very basic X, Y, Z landmarks to expand content within a story the suits literally do not pay the fuck attention to.

Corporate’s understanding is basic: dudes stabbing monsters and brothers against the world. Play in that box and keep these demographic notes in mind. You’re good.

They’ll NEVER mention blacklisting issues directly beyond what they admitted in the above quote but I DO remind you I have ranted ON AND ON AND ON how much Destiel fandom shot themselves in the goddamn foot with a fucking bazooka with the Chad Kennedy incident years ago. Others like Emily handled it intelligently to inform the *authors*. No, the network will never tell you if they blacklisted Destiel, but I informed you pretty heavily years ago that odds are, yeah, they probably fucking blacklisted Destiel.

Add in paying attention to the things Berens himself liked (if you don’t believe, scroll to Nov 5 on his tl)

Like, listen. berens knows exactly what he did and did the best he could do in the situations that were set up for him. And, frankly, I had been talking about this season as a writer room rebellion all year--just like corporate DID leave them a note in S11 that they couldn’t kill god. But if they couldn’t kill him or cage him, they would find another way. In 17 we said goodbye to Meredith and, in a way, to a MAJOR portion of Dean’s substantial story. In 18, we said goodbye to Bobo, and frankly all the parts that grew into queer Castiel that came with it. 19 and 20 became residual notes of hitting expected plot beats on the head on a rhythm, tying off godforces, and then just sliding into the Dabb subversion of them having learned to grieve, let go, and process emotions-- just the surrounding delivery left the feeling of more ~wanting~ on that front which is understandable.

But these are the kind of things people don’t even ~think~ about. This is WHY I’ve turned myself into a bulletshield protecting Berens’ work for YEARS while people yelled about queerbait not understanding the years of process he used in his unbabysat space to make something unable to dodge.

More posts he liked:

This isn’t a solo story. At the same SDCC he leaned over to my friend and grinned, whispering, “I hope you like what I did this year.” -- he knew. He knew and he fought his ass off but there was an end of the line.

That end of the line having an extra note or two to drop in the finale--never a big gay confirmation, just a “everyone’s there together, assume what you want” --is its own thing. As it is, Jensen even remarked how much of his dialogue got cut in final draft out of 18, and if the brazil dubbing footage leak tells me anything, they got the raw version before it was cut. And before they ADR’ed Dean’s sniffling collapsed against the wall. They had everything right, beyond the fact that there was supposed to be more dialogue from Dean along the lines of, “You can’t go”, or “you can’t leave” (difficult to determine what a ESL person seeing an english draft then yelling in portuguese then translated back to english meant, specifically, but something in that ballpark -- just like “don’t do this” came as “no it’s not” through the translation pipeline), and other similar minor bartering about this. And we’re not even gonna get into Dean’s hilariously loudly ADRed sniffling on the wall. Here, Jensen, breathe IMMEDIATELY into this microphone.

But they’re never going to tell you this. Of course they’re not. 

Summarily, corporate had half a year of having to re-manage scheduling everybody’s flights and planners during covid rewrites to stare directly into the huge gay abyss and fuck things up. 

It’s all about the unmonitored space vs the monitored space. Of COURSE they’re never going to fucking tell you these things. 

FRANKLY I am DYING to see the Portuguese dub of the show to see what the fuck they do with it, all things considered. I’m pretty sure the suit in my inbox that’s trying to vagueblog around things sideways now never accounted for the fact that there’s copies of the raw available in some parts of the world. I’m... pretty sure they thought they were my only leak source in fact. 

Either way--it’s not that corporate micromanages and passes constant notes. It’s that they gloss over vague summaries and plans, drop a few base expectations and performance boxes. It’s up to the authors how to kick up dust inside those boxes. 

[ketchupqueenboiiii]

Black Cat and Desert Flower

'Kaldur, what are we doing in Paris? We finished the mission, we should be heading back home.' Said Robin, via mind-link.

'Patience, my friends, I arranged for us to have a day in the city. A vacation, if you will.' Aqualad said to the team.

'Kaldur, I don't know if you noticed but it's night.' Kid Flash was also getting impatient.

'Why are we standing under a bridge with a bunch of locks on it?' Superboy asked. He hated not knowing things.

After busting a minor league drug ring in Versailles they expected to relax in the Bioship until the arrived back in the US, not stand under a bridge.

'Can you at least tell what we need 'patience' for-' Kid Flash whined until he was interrupted by a voice.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my city?" The voice was like steel. In a way it sounded like Batman's. Not in sound, but in its tone of command. It sounded young and feminine.

'Brace your selves.' Said Robin, hands inching towards his tool belt.

'There are 6 of them. Should we attack?' Superboy adds.

'No. These are friends.' Aqualad sounded completely at ease. It would have calmed them if he wasn't always calm and collected.

Before they could refute he walked into the moonlight. They heard the voice take in a sharp breathe. So they recognized them, maybe it will prevent a fight.

"I am no less than a black cat." What? The team had no idea how this conversation took such a turn. What was she saying?

"And I am no more than a desert flower." What was their leader saying? It must have meant something because the voice squealed and a figure clad in red and black polka dots came barreling at him.

'Stand down.' He sound completely unbothered. How could he be so whelmed?

'But she's-' One tried to reason.

'Stand down, she is a friend.' He sounded, breathless? Something was going on, maybe M'gann should do a scan of his mind when they get back.

The force of the girl's impact knocked them both over. They were both smiling, eyes never straying from each others. They got a clear view to analyze the girl. She look developed and fit, but still pretty small. She shouldn't have been able to knock down a door, let alone a military trained Atlantean. Was this a secret Kryptonian?

"You're, you're here," she sounded out of breath, though clearly out of amazement rather than the run. "Oh kwami, it's been to long. Is Roy here too?" How did she know Roy? Did she know all of their civilian I.D.s?

"Sadly no, Speedy is not here. But my team and I are." He said as they stood up. They could see exactly what she was wearing. A red and black skin tight body suit with a open black leather jacket and a hood. The bodysuit was red down to her navel and black the rest of the way. Each of her palms had a black circle with a unknown ideogram in red on them. Her shoes were black army boots with red laces. So she has a theme.

She moved her gaze behind Aqualad to look at the team. They took note of her mask. Her hood covered her forehead and her eyebrows, and she wore a mask connected to her body suit that cover everything nose and down.  Leaving only her eyes exposed.

"Aqualad, who is she?" Artemis asked, hands already itching towards her arrows.

"Team, this is Ladybug. Ladybug, this is the team." He introduced, stepping away to allow them to assess each other.

"It's an honor to meet you all, Aqualad has spoken fondly of all of you. Welcome to Paris." She greeted professionally.

No one returned her greeting. They looked to Aqualad for more context.

He then gestured to Ladybug to speak. "You're probably confused as to who I am. I'm Ladybug, one of the heroes of Paris. We surfaced to reclaim a misused ancient magic artifact."

"Who is we?" Robin asked.

"Well, I realized that one city to one hero wasn't an equal ratio. So I formed a team to take some of the responsibility. Bunnix, Carapace, would you like to introduce yourselves?" A woman with an umbrella jumped from the top of the bridge and a man walked out from the shadow behind Ladybug. Both taller than her. Based on their themes, the man was Carapace and the woman was Bunnix.

"Sure thing, Boss." They said in unison and with exaggerated bows and salutes.

"Good Kwami, don't call me that." She said, pinching her nose.

"Our deepest apologies, Master. We beg your forgiveness." They spoke in unison again and with straight faces, too.

"God damn it, I'm not even fully trained-" She was interrupted by poorly muffled laughter behind her.

"Singe, you've been doing this for 3 years, and you still manage to reveal your presence in almost every situation-" Robin felt like he should interrupt before this escalates.

"Is that an umbrella?" He genuinely wanted to know.

"Are you judging? 'Cause, you shouldn't judge since you spent a year or so running around Gotham in green panties and a pole." Robin blushed in embarrassment. The team looked ready to fight these so called heroes.

"Ryu!" Ladybug reprimanded, looking affronted. Wait, Bunnix didn't say it? Then, who did?

"I'm so sorry about her. They're all really defensive about the umbrella." Okay?

"Who spoke then?" Kid Flash asked, still looking all little miffed about the comment.

"You know, Aqualad, there's enough of us for a spar." She said smirking, and ignoring Kid's question.

"If we're sparring, I want a few minutes with who ever said that stuff about Robin." He said glaring in no particular direction.

"Actually, I was thinking we do a group spar. Aqualad's team versus mine."  She suggested.

No one seemed to be against it.

"Okay then, prepare yourselves-" Aqualad started.

"Wait! I have to call of Pegasus." She brought her hand up to her ear and looked toward a building.

"Woah-woah-woah, hold up, you have a sniper?!" Kid Flash exclaimed, speedily looking around to see them.

"You have to be prepared for anything." She responded after finishing her comm-call.

"Yeah, but still, you have a sniper-"

A turquois portal appeared and a white-haired man in a brown leather bodysuit stepped out of it. His hair was held back in vertical braids gathered in a ponytail. He also wore pitch black sunglasses, even though it was the middle of the night.

"Hello." He greeted the teams before walking to stand next to Bunnix and Singe.

"Let's get ready to spar." Aqualad announced, walking not-to-subtlety towards Ladybug. The teams both walked of to strategize.

"You sure your ready to fight me again? It's been a couple months since our last spar." She quipped with pop of her hip and challenging smirk.

"If my memory is correct, you were the one with the losing streak." He smiled back with his patented sass.

"We'll see about that." They shared eye contact and a firm hand shake.

With a quick turn of a heel, "Formation!"

Bonus #1

For more context: Mari and Kaldur were not always this touchy feely. Mari spent a year or so out of Paris to train for Guardian purposes. She would have cataclysm herself before leaving Paris alone. But Tikki and Plagg convinced her that she was unstable with all of the guardian power and she would have to learn to control it. Outside of Paris. So they decided to give out the miraculous and have the new team pass around Tikki and she would take Plagg out of Paris (too many billboards and Plagg wasn't good at emotions).

So she was backpacking America, trying to find someone to help her. Unfortunately someone found her. Namely Aquaman and his partner.  Interrogating her just left them both offended.

But she did learn that she was now fluent in ancient languages, like the guardian language and Atlantean.

("What are you doing here?"

"That's not your problem."

"You sunk Atlantis! Of course it's our concern!"

"You Atlantean's think you're entitled to everything. That's why Plagg sunk your city."

"{In Atlantean} My King, should we take her to Poseidonis-"

"{in Atlantean} Excuse me, but I'm not going anywhere other than out of this cell."

"{In English} How do you-"

They call in the JL for backup and try to interrogate her, until Diana vetoes and pardons her. She offers to take her to Themyscira and train but Arthur vetoes that so now she's going to train with Roy and Kaldur. [Because they are the oldest and I believe that they worked together most pre-canon YJs1.]

{Whispers and Glares}"Atlantean bitch."

{Whispers and Glares} "Guardian scum.")

5 months and numerous fights later, Roy was tired friendTM of their shit and sat them down to make them talk. They spoke of both versions of the Sinking of Atlantis and came to the agreement that Plagg was sorry for taking things too far and that modern Atlanteans could not be blamed for the mistakes of one of their selfish past monarchs. [king whoever tried to use Plagg's miraculous to conquer and terrorize neighboring kingdoms, so in retaliation Plagg cataclysmed the entire country/city]

After getting over that they both realized, 'Hey, he/she's actually pretty cool."

Everyone kept in touch after she went back to Paris and bitched to each other about teammates and leadership and how it's, quote-unquote, 'unfair that it's legal for Mari to drink but not Roy'

I'm not good with timelines so I'm going to say that, Kaldur still has hopes for him and Tula, Mari's not entertaining anything more than friendship (no distractions), and Roy is too focused on teenaged rebellion.

[givemeweasley]

First Things First pt. 1

Fred Weasley x Reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: Fluff, hella slow burn (there is no romance in this first part, the next part will definitely have it though)

A/N: This is the second fic I have! I’m super excited for you to read! I’m also taking requests! Also I haven’t seen the movies so everything in this series is completely based off the books. I did a lot of research for this to make sure it was as perfect as possible so give it a like and let me know what you think :)

First Things First pt. 2, First Things First pt. 3

-----

You remembered the first day you met him.

It was unnaturally cold outside. The English air was chill and unforgiving, something you weren’t used to. Your parents had moved you halfway across the world because they believed Ilvermorny was no longer the best wizarding education. Your grandmother went to Hogwarts and was one of the best witches in your family. She expressed the most excitement at the complete upheaval of your life to a new country, new school, and hopefully new friends. She raved and raved about how Ravenclaw was the best house. The best scholars and most successful wizards and witches stemmed from her house. Repeatedly, she told you how proud she would be if you were a Ravenclaw too. I’m a Wampus, is what you wanted to say but held your tongue. You knew your family loved you. However, it was a little much sometimes. 

As you boarded the Hogwarts Express, your parents and grandmother's ecstatic faces at the prospect of your success at Hogwarts made you nauseous. You waved back at their frantic hands before finding a deserted train car and sitting next to the window. It was only a minute before the train pulled away and a field, more vibrant than it ought to be in the English cold, came into view. Your eyes flickered across the scenery as tears built up in your eyes and bitterness built up in your heart. You had devoted four years, four damn years, to Ilvermorny. You had a life there. Friends there. A home there. Of course your friends promised to write, but you didn’t know how an owl would make it across the ocean. 

“Oh sorry! I didn’t realize this compartment was-” You had been so caught up in your thoughts you hadn’t heard the door open. Quickly wiping your tears, you turned to face the intruder. Or intruders.

Standing before you were three boys. A pair of identical twins with red hair so stark you were surprised it wasn’t fire and a smiling boy with dark skin and even darker eyes. The redhead in the front tilted his head as he studied your appearance. You groaned internally knowing your eyes must’ve been red from crying. Great first impression. But he just smiled and stuck his hand out.

“Fred Weasley and this is my brother George. That back there,” nodding his head at the boy behind them, “is Lee Jordan our best friend. Mind if we join you?”

You bit your lip, their British accents were so...so... British. It caught you off guard despite being in England.

You then realized he was still waiting for an answer, hand extended. He started to lower his hand and grimace. Immediately, your hand shot forward grabbing his.

“I don’t mind at all.” You shook his hand firmly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

All the boys stood there frozen for a moment looking at you with wide eyes. You slowly pulled your hand back as silence reigned in the compartment. Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you opened your mouth to speak. But Lee Jordan laughed before shoving his way past the twins and plopping in the seat right across from you.

“A bloody American!!” He choked out past his laughs. You barely noticed Fred and George sit themselves down in the compartment, one next to you and the other beside Lee. “I’ve got so many questions!” He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

You let out a nervous laugh as you leaned back slightly. “Um…”

“How about we start with her name first, you git.” You turned, seeing the twin beside you shaking his head at his friend.

“My name’s Y/N Y/L/N.” You responded still looking at the twin beside you who had finally met your eyes.

After that bit of information, Lee didn’t hesitate. “So what year are you?”

“Fifth.”

“Why are you here?”

“My parents wanted me to come to Hogwarts-”

“Is there a wizarding school in America?”

“Yeah it’s called Ilvermorny-”

“Are there houses?”

“There’s Wampus, Pukwudgie, Thunderbird, and Horned Serpent-”

“You have a Slytherin too?”

“What’s Slytherin-”

At that it was like a bomb exploded in the compartment. Lee, Fred, and George all took turns explaining to you the ‘disgusting, evil ways of the Slytherins.’ A direct quote from Lee. In detail they proceeded to explain how Hogwarts worked, the houses (the best being Gryffindor), Peeves, Filch, Severus Snape, etc. By the time the train began to slow down as it reached Hogwarts, you felt like you’d been there for years.

As the train finally pulled to a stop you opened your mouth. “So what if I’m sorted into Slytherin?” You asked the boys.

All of them looked at you with gaping mouths, not really knowing what to say. But the twin to your right, spoke first.

“You won’t be.” He stood up, pulling your suitcase from the shelf above you handing it into your arms.

“How do you know?” You countered as he handed you another suitcase.

He narrowed his eyes at you, tilting his head back and forth and rubbing his chin dramatically before smiling broadly and winking. “I just do.”

He finally pulled down the last thing up on the shelf, being a brown leather ball tied with white string. He furrowed his brows at it and turned to presumably ask you what it was. You snatched it out of his hands and tucked it under your arm.

“It’s a football.”

He opened his mouth to ask, but you had already squeezed past him and the other twin who was gaping at the ball too. You followed the hoard of students towards the door and outside.

“First years this way!!” A deep voice called one side of the platform while another voice directed students into carriages. This presented your dilemma. You weren’t technically a first year but it was your first year at Hogwarts. Would that mean they wanted you with the first years or were you supposed to ride the carriages with the other older students.

Fear started to creep up your spine as you internally panicked and everyone raced around you carrying their luggage, confidently making their way to where they belonged.

But you belonged in America. Thousands of miles away.

“Ms. Y/L/N!!” A shrill voice called. You lifted your head from where you had been zoning out. A small womanly hand waved over the heads of the students. She had a tall witch's hat on and a wrinkled face with deep eyes. You shifted your suitcases in your hands before making your way over to her. The area was near empty as most students had already gotten on a carriage or a boat. “Ms. Y/L/N, my name is Professor McGonagall. I will be escorting you tonight to the Great Hall and answering any questions you might have before you get sorted.” She shook your hand before waving you into a carriage beside her. It was at the front of the line of carriages. You stepped inside with your suitcases and football still clutched under your arm. Professor Mcgonagall stepped in behind you, shutting the door.

The carriage took off, rumbling down the path despite nothing driving it.

“Excuse me, professor.” She looked up smiling. “What’s driving these carriages?”

“Ah, well they’re being driven by Thestrals. Magical creatures that you can only see when you witness death.”

Your eyes widened as you nodded.

“Are there any questions you have about Hogwarts or any worries you’re harboring?” She folded her hands neatly over her robes, kindly smiling at you. It eased the worry in your heart a fraction.

“Actually, not really. Fred, George, and Lee-”

“Oh my! My dear, whatever they have told you is likely to be exaggerated due to their more… exuberant nature. Those boys, while good smart boys, can be quite the troublemakers.” Professor McGonagall smiled fondly while shaking her head. It reminded you of a tired mother.

“Well, I was wondering…” Your eyes looked directly up into the professors, “how do you tell the twins apart?”

A hearty laugh left her lips as she clutched her chest. “My dear, I’m afraid that is the one question I am unable to answer.”

You smiled, looking out of the window of the carriage. The rest of the ride passed quietly until the carriage pulled up to Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall instructed you to leave your things where they were before directing you through the doors of Hogwarts. She pulled you into the Great Hall, but instead of letting you sit she pulled you off to the side.

“We have to wait for the first years so everyone can get sorted at the same time.”

You nodded thinking back to your sorting in Ilvermorny. The way the Wampus roared and the Pukwudgie raised its arrow. You chose Wampus for a simple reason, it was your favorite animal. Based on the friends you made, you had never had a reason to regret your decision. But those friends were now thousands of miles away.

You’d been so wrapped up in your thoughts you missed Professor McGonagall lightly pushing you behind a small first year.

“Just follow him, dear” She nodded before turning and making her way up the hall. You did what she asked, feeling the embarrassment of being a fifteen year old following an eleven year old. Eventually you ended up in front of the entire hall. Your eyes were finally able to scan the entirety of the school. You studied the Slytherins in green, the Gryffindors in red, the Hufflepluffs in yellow, and finally the Ravenclaws in blue. Your future house. There seemed to be friendly faces throughout the entire table.

“Y/N Y/L/N!” Shit. You had missed the entirety of what had been said. You had no idea what you were supposed to do. You stumbled over to where Professor McGonagall pointed to a hat sitting on a stool. As you made your way to the stool, she turned to the crowd. “Students this is Y/N, she is a former Ilvermorny student which for those of you who don’t know, is located in America.” You heard several gasps throughout the crowd and barely resisted the temptation to roll your eyes. Oh look! A foreigner! “I expect you to treat her with the utmost kindness as she is not only new to this school, but new to England.” The murmurs in the hall had gained volume as people whispered about the American girl.

You grabbed the hat from the stool before sitting down and looking at the hat. It winked at you. You almost dropped it right then, before realizing the entire school was watching your every move.

You placed the hat on your head, nervously glancing up at Professor McGonagall before the hat sank over your eyes.

“Ah, well this is new!” The hat spoke. The hat spoke. “Well, yes I can speak. I can also sing. But alas my job is to decide what house you belong to, American girl. Hm. It appears you were chosen by both Wampus the warrior and Pukwudgie the healer when at Ilvermorny. However, your grandmother was a Ravenclaw when at Hogwarts… but what do you want, Y/N?”

The hat asked you a question.

“Yes, the hat asked you a question!”

“Um, I suppose…” It was a no to Slytherin, the boys had made that much clear. Oddly enough, you didn’t know if you wanted to be a Ravenclaw either. If you were going to be hauled across the world to go to a school you didn’t want to go to, you were going to make your own path.

“I knew it.” The hat laughed joyfully before shouting. “GRYFFINDOR!”

You assumed that was your cue as you pulled the hat off. Cheers were ringing through the hall as groans left the lips of a few others. You stood placing the hat back on the stool, looking to Professor McGonagall for further instructions.

“Well, go join your new house!” She smiled happily before waving you over to the table. You nodded, walking down a few stairs before making your way over to the long table.

“Hey! ‘Merica! Down here!” A familiar voice shouted. You looked over seeing one of the twins waving. Feeling a sense of relief you hurriedly made your way over to him.

He slid over making space for you between himself and his twin.

“Welcome to the best house, ‘Merica!” He laughed slinging an arm over your shoulder.

You couldn’t help the smile that formed. “That’s not my name.”

“It is now.” Lee winked from across the table.

You turned to the twin with his arm over your shoulder narrowing your eyes. “So are you Fred or George?” His other hand not slung around your shoulders slapped against his chest dramatically.

“I’m offended, woman! You should know that I am the great Fred and he” Fred said pointing behind you, “is the great George.”

“You’ll figure it out eventually.” A girl responded from next to Lee. “I’m Angelina, by the way. And I, unlike these gits, will call you by your name.”

“Thank you.”

As food finally appeared on the golden plates before you and everyone dug in, you felt...good. Safe. Normal. Like perhaps Hogwarts wasn’t going to be hell on Earth. Maybe you could actually enjoy going here. You couldn’t change the fact that you were here, but, maybe, you could enjoy it a little.

-----

You remembered the first time you both had class together.

“What do you have today?” Fred or George (you still couldn’t tell) mumbled with a mouth full of food. It was the first day of classes. You pulled out your schedule that had been handed to you earlier that morning.

The other twin snatched it out of your hands. “Arithmancy, Runes, and- George!” The twin, now identified as Fred, elbowed his brother. “She’s got Double Potions with us!”

“Looks like you're stuck with us everyday for the semester, love.” George said pointing to a few classes you shared with them the following days.

“Can’t wait.” You hid your smile behind the piece of toast you shoved in your mouth.

“You know, you never did explain to me what that- that ball was.” Fred said leaning forward with an apple in his hand.

Lee leaned in from beside you, interested. “Yeah, we were all talking about what it could be last night.”

“It’s just a ball. It’s used for a popular Muggle sport in America. My moms a muggle and she taught me how to play.” You nervously tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “It’s the same ball she taught me with.”

“A Muggle sport?” Fred leaned back, seemingly unsatisfied. He glanced at George, then at Lee. “Wanna teach us?”

You laughed. “Maybe. I’ll have to see how well you play Quadpot first before I trust you with my football.”

The boys all looked at each other with confused looks on their faces. But, of course, it was Lee who spoke up first.

“Bloody hell is Quadpot?”

For a moment, you wondered if this was going to a common occurrence. You saying something about American wizardry, everyone looking at you weird and then subsequently asking questions. Probably.

“It’s a game with a qu-”

“A quaffle? Yeah that’s Quidditch!” Fred shouted.

“What I was going to say, was it’s a quod.”

“Bloody hell is a-”

“I would answer your questions if you would stop interrupting me for Pete’s sake!”

Silence reigned over the table.

George raised a hand.

“Yes, George?” You sighed.

“Who’s Pete?”

You blinked. Then blinked again. Took a deep breath in. Then breathed out.

“It’s just a saying. Now can I explain Quadpot or not?”

The boys solemnly nodded. Fred even went as far to zip his lips and throw away the key.

“I’ll do my best to summarize. Two teams of eleven, one quod. A quod is basically an exploding quaffle from the little I know about Quidditch. The goal is for your team to get the quod in the cauldron in the center of the field. If you have the quod when it explodes you’re out. Whenever a team runs out of players the game ends. Most points win. Make sense?”

All three of them sat in silence with their jaws wide open. “That’s brilliant!” Fred and George shouted simultaneously.

“Still not better than Quidditch.” Lee shrugged, shoving some oatmeal in his mouth.

“I mean I suppose. Do you guys play?” You asked.

Lee suddenly slapped his hands on the table. “I can’t believe we didn’t tell her!” Staring straight at Fred and George.

“We’re pretty damn good at Quidditch.” Fred smirked.

“We’ll see.” You winked, grabbing another piece of toast from the center of the table, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You shoved the toast in your mouth before standing and waving to the boys over your shoulder as you strolled out of the Great Hall. “See you boys in Double Potions!”

Luckily, Arithmancy and Runes went smoothly. Angelina was in both classes with you which made everything a little more comforting. Especially, when the professors went over the importance of OWLs at the end of the year. Angelina also introduced you to a few other Gryffindors in your year before classes started.

Finally, you were making your way to Potions in the Dungeons.

“Hey, look it’s the American. I heard she’s a halfblood.” You heard a sneer from behind you. You turned to see what appeared to be a second year Slytherin laughing and pointing at you. He flinched a fraction when he noticed your steely gaze on him. He had blonde hair and a mousy looking face that reminded you of the rats in Boston.

You broke out into laughter before strolling over to him.

“What are you laughing at?” He spat.

You gave him a once over. “A child who thinks he’s cool and witty by throwing some half assed attempt at an insult. If you’re gonna insult someone, maybe say something that’s actually, I don’t know, insulting?” You patted his cheek before turning on your heel and strolling into the Potions classroom, not realizing half the hall was staring at you while the blonde child fumed.

You dropped your bag on the desk closest to the back, knowing this class was with the feared Severus Snape. Suddenly two bags dropped on your left side. You looked up and knew you would see the smiling faces of Fred and George. You were still none the wiser of who was who though.

“I think I’m in love with you.” One of them said. Your eyes widened.

“Oh bugger off, I called dibs.” The other one hit the others shoulder.

You opened your mouth to respond.

“While you boys may think it is attractive for a girl to humiliate a boy younger than her, I cannot share those same sentiments and therefore,” A man pale as a sheet with greasy black hair and a hooked nose appeared over the shoulder of the twins while glaring straight at you, “five points from Gryffindor.” He made his way until he was in front of you. “I’m not surprised the American has decided to align herself with the riff raff. I can’t say I expected more from Americans. Wild eccentrics, the lot of them.” He looked down at you from over his long unseemly nose. It took you a moment for your brain to catch up with all he said. He turned to return to the front of the class.

“Hold on a sec.” You held your hand up. Snape whipped around with fire in his eyes.

“You dare ask me to-”

“You took five points from me because I had the gall to stand up for myself against someone younger than me instead of taking points from the child that you obviously heard insult me first?”

Snape opened his mouth but you decided you weren’t done.

“Also, it’s only humiliation if he’s embarrassed by his actions after I’ve called him out rightfully so. And as far as I’m concerned he should be-”

Snape had rounded back to standing in front of your table. “It is not up to you to question my judgement-”

“Your biased judgement-”

“Ten points from Gryffindor!” He shouted.

Your jaw dropped while your anger seized you. “You can’t do that!”

Snape smirked then. “Actually, Y/L/N, I can do that. I can also give you detention, which you will be serving tonight.”

“Bloody arse.” One of the twins muttered.

“Ten more points and detention for you, whichever Weasley spawn you are!” Snape snarled before whisking away to the front of the classroom. “And if anyone else has a problem with the way I handle my classroom, now is the time to speak up.” His beady eyed gaze met every eye in the class before turning to the board.

“Told you he was a git.” The twin next to you whispered.

You slumped in your seat as a small smile made its way onto your face. “Yeah. You did.”

-----

You remembered your first detention together.

“If I come back and a single speck is out of place, it will be your heads.” Snape growled.

“So we shouldn’t clean, then?” One of the twins tried his hardest not to smile.

Snape narrowed his eyes, your wands clenched tightly in his grasp. Before sweeping out of the classroom, his robes billowing behind him as the door slammed and locked.

“He’s one for dramatics.” You muttered.

The twin chuckled before nodding. “That he is.”

You turned to him. “I’m sorry you’re here. It’s my fault. I should’ve-”

“You were bloody brilliant, ‘Merica!” The twin laughed. “I’ll be dreaming about Snape and Malfoys faces for weeks!”

Heat rose to your cheeks as a smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, I guess?” You grabbed the rag and spray left on Snape’s desk as you set out to clean the desks.

“Oh, you can put that stuff up.”

You turned, furrowing your brow.

He pulled out a wand from his pant pocket. He waved it triumphantly. “It’s Georges. He let me borrow it so we wouldn’t have to clean. Genius, he is.” He turned pointing the wand at the classroom. “Scourgify!”

Smart.

However, you still sprayed the rag before lifting your shoe and wiping the bottom of it doing the same with the other rag. You then poured out half of the bottle of spray down the drain in the middle of the classroom.

The twin furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you doing? I just said-”

“And Snape’s going to be awfully suspicious if the classroom is clean and none of the cleaning supplies are dirty or look used.”

He looked mildly impressed.

“Also, can you please tell me which one you are…”

He started to look offended but then smiled. “Fred.” He said sliding onto one of the desks.

You smacked your forehead before hopping on the desk opposite of the one he was sitting on. “You just said that was George's wand! I should’ve known. I’ll get it eventually, I promise.”

The rest of the night was spent learning things about each other. Talking about everything and nothing. You learned he was a beater for the Gryffindor Quidditch team with George being the other beater. That he had three older brothers and two younger brothers and one younger sister. His dad worked for the Ministry, which he explained was the British equivalent of MACUSA. He was obsessed with muggles and would probably love nothing more than to hear all about your football.

You told him about how you were an only child, how your grandmother went to Hogwarts and was a Ravenclaw. How you grew up in Texas before moving to Massachusetts when you were eleven. That your parents wanted to be close to you despite only seeing you on breaks. He had a lot of questions about Ilvermorny and America which you described in the best detail you could. He was especially fascinated by the size of Ilvermorny compared to Hogwarts. Which made Hogwarts seem bitesize, considering Ilvermorny was the biggest wizarding school in North America (and North America was huge).

You talked for hours until finally, you heard the quick sharp footsteps of Snape quickly approaching the door. Quickly you both jumped off the desks and grabbed rags before dropping to the floor and cleaning non existent spots right as Snape burst through the doors.

His eyes narrowed, searching the room for what you assumed was the slightest speck. Slowly, he strolled through the room wiping his fingers on random surfaces scrutinizing every inch of the classroom. He finally walked past where Fred and you were still kneeling on the ground into the store room. You frantically looked over at Fred.

“We forgot to scourgify the store room!” You whisper-shouted.

Fred smiled widely before winking and grabbing your forearm. Before you could blink, you were being hauled across the classroom. “Accio Wands!” Fred shouted as you made it to the door of the Potions classroom. The wands came flying at you from Snape's pocket as he turned, his eyes livid.

“Goodnight, Snape!” Fred called as he shut the door behind you and tugged you quickly up the nearest staircase. Your laughs following you both all the way to the Fat Lady. “Fortuna Major.” Fred whispered.

The Fat Lady smiled knowingly. “Little late to be out on a date, is it?”

Before you could respond, Fred had beat you to the punch as the picture frame swung open. “You know I would never cheat on you, my love.”

Both of you climbed inside seeing the common room was dead empty.

“Well that was…” You started.

“Fun? Thrilling?” Fred spread his arms almost as wide as his smile.

You crossed yours, tilting your head as you smiled at him. For a moment, neither of you said anything. Finally, you turned towards the girls dorm staircase stopping at the base. Fred was still standing in the same place, his arms by his side, when you glanced back.

“Something like that.” You finally responded.

“G’night, ‘Merica.” Fred called as you ascended the stairs.

Your smile followed you all the way to your bed.

-----

You remembered your first trip to Hogsmeade together.

That morning you were having a specifically hard time. Which was odd considering you’d been in Hogwarts for over a month now. Sitting in the Great Hall half a dozen owls had brought you a few letters and packages. You opened the one from your parents first.

Dear Y/N,

Hope you’re doing well! Dad got a promotion at his Ministry job (which is great news!). The International Magical Cooperation Department has really taken a liking to him! Anyway, I think I’ve finally gotten everything unpacked here and I can’t wait until Christmas for you to see your room! Grandma did tell me she was sorry you weren’t in Ravenclaw, but was glad you at least weren’t a “ooey gooey Hufflepuff.” Or something like that. I’m rambling now, but please tell me how classes have been and your friends are!

Speaking of friends, consider this an early early Christmas present. Some of your friends from Ilvermorny managed to send a few letters and packages using the mailing system (I had to explain it to your father). Anyway! Enjoy them!

Love you bunches! XOXO

Mom

A smile broke out on your face as you grabbed a random letter and ripped it open.

Hey kid,

I’m not sure how reliable this No-Maj mail thing is but here goes. Everyone misses you here. Wampus isn’t the same without our resident defender. Iris really misses you but won’t say it. She’s determined you’ll be back before the year ends. Honestly, I think we’re all hoping that. It seriously bites that you’re stuck in England with all those snob-nosed Brits. Plus, who the hell calls em Muggles? Fucking Brits…

Anyway, we won this year's first Quadpot game against the Thunderbird. It may have been the quickest game I’ve ever witnessed. Mary and Louisa were on their game, making perfect tosses to get it into the cauldron. They got new brooms this year too which were really helpful. I wish you could’ve seen it! Although, the funniest part was when Olivia caught the quod (we broke up by the way, but that’s another letter for another time) and she froze! It was hilarious. She was the last one out on the Thunderbird team. It exploded about five seconds after she caught it. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. We still had six players on our team and we were up by 28. There was no way Olivia was going to make those points back. We definitely felt your absence at the party afterwards though. We had a moment of silence for our best Quadpot player before we partied hard like we knew you would’ve wanted us too.

Well, I’m sure you have plenty of English tea to drink and boys to snog just don’t forget about lil ole Danny back here in the states. I think Iris is writing you a letter. She’s writing in her book and practically hisses at anyone who tries to see what it is. Anyway we miss you and can’t wait till you come back to America.

Best,

Danny

There were tears in your eyes by the time you finished reading the letter. You had forgotten how much you missed Quadpot. How much you missed the Wampus dorms. Gossiping with Louisa, pranking first years with Danny, practicing spells with Iris, talking about No-Maj things with Thomas. Everything you’d gotten used to for four years. You put down Danny’s letter and reached for the next one.

You looked up as Fred slid in front of you.

Fred. Oh my god. I know it’s Fred.

“Fred?” You cautiously asked. Secretly hoping you were right.

He winked. “I knew you’d get it eventually.” He nodded at the letters and packages scattered across the table. “Who did all these come from?” He picked up one of the packages. “Iris Capace.” He raised a brow looking at you.

“Friends from Ilvermorny.” You bit your lip scanning the letters in front of you, trying not to cry.

You heard Fred set the package down.

“I bet you miss ‘em.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. He was usually joking, sarcastic, and goofy. But rarely gentle.

You nodded, clearing your throat. “I do.”

Fred didn’t respond for a moment. You looked up to see him glancing around the table at the numerous letters and packages. He seemed to feel your gaze on him because he looked up to meet your eyes. His smile seemed much brighter and warmer than it had ever before. It made your heart stutter.

“Well then, it’s a good thing we’re going to Hogsmeade today so we can buy them a couple of souvenirs to send back.” He stood holding his hand out after grabbing a few of the heavier looking packages. “Come on. Let’s go drop these off at the dorm so we can make it in time to Hogsmeade.”

You gathered the left over letters and packages under your arm before grabbing his hand. You realized how impractical it was to hold his hand as you walked down the table, your hands clasped together over the table. He refused to let go, though, even as you passed a few Gryffindors. They just had to duck under your outstretched hands.

After depositing your letters and packages in your room and grabbing your money, Fred walked with you to the carriages.

George, Lee, and Angelina were all waiting by one of the carriages.

“It’s about time!” Angelina shook her head despite the smile on her lips. “Thought you two got lost.”

“I bet they did.” Lee whispered under his breath as you stepped in the carriage, Fred getting in behind you.

“In eachothers eyes.” You heard George whisper back laughing quietly as he climbed in.

You ended up sitting next to Angelina. She wanted to ask you all about Adrian Pucey who had cornered you after Potions the other day to flirt with you. That conversation topic lasted you all the way into Hogsmeade, while you occasionally heard bits and pieces of the boys talking about the next Quidditch match.

When the carriages pulled up to Hogsmeade at last, Angelina grabbed your arm excitedly.

“I forgot this is your first time here!” She dragged you out of the carriage immediately pulling you towards a pub called The Three Broomsticks. “First things first, you have to try butterbeer!!”

You refrained from telling her you were from America and not another planet and you had had butterbeer before. But her excitement rubbed off and you couldn’t break her heart. So you kept that fact to yourself.

The inside of The Three Broomsticks was rustic and charming. It was warm and felt incredible coming in from the brisk cold that always seemed to linger no matter where you went. Angelina ordered two butterbeers and found a spot for you both off to the side. The table was small but perfect to fit the two of you.

“So how’s Quidditch going? I vaguely heard the boys talking about it on the way here.” You asked, taking a sip of the butterbeer. You almost forgot it was supposed to be your first time tasting it, so you made a shocked face. “This is really good!!”

Angelina narrowed her eyes at you before taking a sip of her own butterbeer. “You can lay off it now. I should’ve figured you’d had it before. My fault.” She was still smiling though, which was a good sign. “But, Quidditch has been...good. Practice is hell though. Don’t get me wrong I love being up on my broom, but Wood can talk for hours. Which means I’m exhausted by the time we end up getting up in the air.”

“That bad?” You grimaced taking another long sip.

“Especially when we have Slytherin games upcoming. I think he forgets sometimes that we want to win as much as he does. He just really wants the Quidditch cup this year.” Angelina glanced around before lowering her voice. “After losing to Hufflepuff due to the Dementor, he’s just really on edge. None of us blame Harry, of course, but it’s Woods last year and we would need to beat both Slytherin and Ravenclaw to have a shot. Not only that, but we’d have to beat them by a decent amount…” She rubbed her forehead before downing more butterbeer.

You laid your hand on the table close to her. “Angelina, you guys played really well from what I saw. You’ve got it in the bag. But there’s no sense in stressing about it now when you can’t do anything about it.”

“She’s right, you know?” You glanced up to see George pulling up a chair next to you.

“We did play well.” Fred slid another chair on Angelina’s side. It took you only a moment to spot Lee leaning against the wall nodding his head.

“But what do you say we finish our drinks and go get some of those souvenirs.” Fred nodded at you.

“Souvenirs?” Angelina asked looking at you. “For who?”

“Friends back in America. Or The States as you Brits call it.” That surprisingly caused a peal of laughter to ring from everyone.

“I reckon she’s learning!” George laughed, elbowing your side.

“We’ll make a proper Brit of you yet!” Lee chimed in.

You raised your Butterbeer. “Not a chance,” and tossed back what was left in your glass.

The rest of the day was spent (literally) on buying weird must-haves from Zonko’s and candy from Honeydukes. You were mainly excited about getting new cards from all the chocolate frogs you bought. America’s cards had famous American wizards, so being able to get dozens of new ones was exciting.

Before you knew it, you were back on the carriage to Hogwarts. Back in the Gryffindor common room examining a few of the presents you had gotten for your friends.

“I promise they work. The dungbombs are personally my favorite and if your friend Danny is half the man you say he is, he’ll love them.” Fred said as he plopped into the chair next to you in the back of the common room.

You looked up. “Danny with the three of you guys would honestly be a dangerous combination.” You held the dungbomb up in front of your face. “I know he’s gonna love these.” You peeked over the top of it. “Thanks.”

Fred smiled another one of his award winning smiles. The one that made all the girls' knees weak. “Anything for you, ‘Merica.” Then he frowned suddenly before digging in his pocket. When he lifted out a small bag, he laughed softly. “Almost forgot.” He tossed the bag at you.

You caught it midair and raised a brow.

“Saw it and thought of you.” He shrugged. With that he stood and bowed dramatically. “Well I must be off to bed, my lady. It was an honor to assist you today, I am your humble servant.” He grabbed your hand and planted a kiss on it before winking and whisking himself away up the stairs of the boys dorm. Your hand was still stuck in midair slightly tingling.

You glanced down at the bag before pulling the strings that held it closed. You turned it over and watched as a silver necklace tumbled out. The chain was thin and long, but it was the pendant that your eyes were focused on.

It was a tiny glass ball, within it was exploding fireworks.

Fred Weasley. Your heart skipped a beat as the red firework held his name before dissolving in the glass as another firework shot off.

It was stunning. You pulled the chain over your head and tucked it underneath your shirt. The pendant fell in the center of your chest. It felt warm against your heart. You pressed it closer.

At that, it was time for bed.

But you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

-----

You remembered your first goodbye.

The Great Feast had been spectacular. Also a god send considering how insane the year had been. You were honestly tired and ready to see your parents. Yet, you also were sad to leave the friends you had made. The deep friendships you had made. Something about the fear of dying has an odd way of making anyone feel closer.

You were sitting between Fred and Alicia Spinnet. Listening as Dumbledore finished awarding Gryffindor the House Cup and Quidditch Cup. Everyone around you, including yourself, exploded in cheers. Jumping from their seats, hugging each other, shouting about how Gryffindor was the best house.

Eventually you all sat down and began eating after Dumbledore sat down. The energy at your table was incomparable. You scanned your eyes over all the friends you had made. Angelina laughing from across you at some dumb joke George said from beside her. Lee on her other side flirting with Katie and Alicia. Wood on the other side of Fred raving about how excited he was about the Quidditch cup win. Harry, Ron and Hermione further down laughing like they deserved. Fred beside you, looking right at you.

“You’re not eating.” He nodded at your plate.

You shrugged. “I was just observing everyone. I’m gonna miss it, I guess.”

Fred’s eyes widened.

“You’re not coming back next semester?” He shouted. It attracted the attention of everyone around you whose smiles suddenly dropped as they stared at you.

You raised your hands. “Hold on! I never said that!”

“So...are you coming back?” Lee pointed his fork at you. “Cause if you’re not, we’ll just outright kidnap you.”

“Guys. I’m coming back! Don’t worry. Everyone can proceed to their regularly scheduled programming.”

“Regularly scheduled-” Angelina began to ask.

“Don’t ask.” You held up your hand before turning back to Fred. It seemed that after that, everyone slowly went back to their own conversations. “But what I was saying is that it’s weird living with you guys for so long and then just...not.” You shrugged now not wanting to meet his eyes. Nervous that he would think you were too clingy or weird for saying that.

But instead he nudged your shoulder with his own. “I get it. But I’m sure you’re more than welcome to visit the Burrow.”

Your face fell. He was offering you to visit his home? During the summer. It sent a warm feeling through your whole body. It was only then that you realized you hadn’t responded and Fred had misinterpreted that silence.

His hand lifted to rub his neck. “Or not. It’s not really a big deal, it’s small anyway…” He trailed off.

Your face broke out into a big grin before you laid your hand on his arm that was still wrapped behind his neck. “I’d love to.” His nervous frown widened into that familiar smile you loved so much. “My family’s going to visit America for the two months of summer but if the offer still stands when I come back, I’d love to.”

Fred slung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. “Trust me, that offer isn’t going anywhere.”

The rest of the meal passed in just as much joy and happiness as you could have hoped. Not a single Gryffindor had a frown or left the table hungry.

What seemed like the blink of an eye, the lot of you were crammed into one train car on the way back home. You had the window seat again with Angelina beside you. She insisted on sitting next to you on the way back.

Despite Angelina's addition, it reminded you of the first train ride to Hogwarts. The fear you felt, the longing you had for Ilvermorny, for America. Your nerves at knowing next to nothing about the people here or how the school differed from the one you were used to. But it was the knowledge of how much you had grown and the friends that had been a part of that that made you smile.

The people in the train car were your new home. Your new school mates as they drilled into your head.

“Thinking hard over there, ‘Merica? Schools over now, you don’t have to do that.” Lee said tossing the football your way.

You caught it without thinking and tossed it to George. “Some of us like to use our brains year round, Jordan.”

Angelina snickered as she caught the ball from George and tossed it back to Lee.

“Hey! Am I chopped liver?” Fred shouted, raising his hands.

“Sorry Fred!” Angelina winced, although you saw the hint of a smile lingering on her lips.

Your friends were batshit. But you loved them.

You tossed the football back and forth, while talking about your summer plans until the train pulled in the station. Everyone stood up and began grabbing their suitcases (or trunks as they insisted calling them) from the shelves above.

You tucked the football under your arm as you followed Angelina out with your suitcases in hand. You could hear Fred and George laughing about something from behind you. Finally you made it on the platform and spotted your parents' kind faces. You raced towards them and dropped your suitcases at their feet along with the ball as you threw your arms around their necks.

“I missed you guys!” You smiled as you pulled back to see their smiling faces.

“We missed you too, sweetheart.” Your mother cupped your cheek with her hand. She glanced behind you. “And who are these lovely people?”

You turned seeing Fred, George, Angelina, and Lee all standing there smiling at you. Your heart melted a little.

“Mom, Dad, these are the people I’ve been telling you about.”

“Oh, so you’ve been writing about me to your parents, have you?” Fred winked. A blush rose to your cheeks before you could stop it.

Your mom laughed before outstretching her hand. “Well, it’s nice to officially meet you bunch. I’m Mrs.Y/L/N and this is Mr. Y/L/N.” They each took turns shaking her hand before she spoke up again. “I do believe you’re Angelina, you must be Lee, and I would have to be stupid not to think you were the identical twins George and Fred?”

At that everyone's eyes widened, including yours. George and Fred? That sounded so… so… wrong.

Fred said, “It’s Fred and George,” the same time George said, “Right you are!”

You shook your head before stepping away from your parents to give each of your friends a hug and saying goodbye.

Angelina promised she’d write before she slipped away to leave with her parents. Lee made eyes at the football as he hugged you, and it took a promise that you would buy him one in America that finally satisfied him before he left as well. Fred and George were a little different. George hugged you tightly and messed your hair up a bit.

“We’ll see you at the Burrow later this summer I hear?”

“That’s the plan.” You glanced over at Fred. You felt George’s eyes follow your own before he laughed quietly.

“I get it. I know who your favorite Weasley is.” He winked before letting you go.

You grabbed his arm. “It’s you. Don’t tell Fred.” You winked back as he laughed all the way back to his family.

Finally, Fred pulled you into a tight hug. Your best friend.

“I’ll miss you.” You mumbled into his chest.

“Oh and here I was thinking George was your favorite Weasley.” He pulled back enough to look at you. You bit your lip to withhold the smile creeping in.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His eyes narrowed. “Mhm. Sure you don’t.” Fred shook his head before pressing a kiss into your hair. “I’ll miss you too, ‘Merica. But I’ll see you at the Burrow later this summer. Might even have a surprise for you.” Just like his brother, he sent you a wink, and turned to return to his family.

You stood staring after him for a minute before you realized your parents were a couple yards behind you. You turned, the blush still hot on your cheeks.

Your dad had your luggage in his hands with a smirk on his face, one of his brows raised. You reached down grabbing your football before following your family to the brick wall.

“So I’m assuming that one was Fred?” Your dad chuckled. If your blush could get deeper it would’ve.

“Oh hush! She’s embarrassed already at her parents seeing her crush!” Your mom slapped your dad's arm. Your parents started bickering then like young lovers. You tuned it out the closer you got to the wall. Your dad was the first to walk through, followed by your mom.

A slight tug pulled in your gut before you stepped in the brick wall. You glanced back looking for those familiar brown eyes. It took you only a moment before you found them. Already looking at you. His lips tugged up into a smile as he lifted his hand.

If there was a fraction of anxiety going into the summer, it was gone then. That safe comforting smile of Fred Weasley always did you in. You lifted your hand and smiled back before confidently turning and walking through the wall.

As excited as you were to see your friends in America again, you secretly knew your heart would be thousands of miles across the sea in a small house in the country.

[imayjinmin]

Dazed Ⅱ

Vampire prince Enhypen x Shadow fairy princess reader

Word count: 2.2k

Playlist here

Synopsis:  Shadowfen was a normally a peaceful place consisting of shadow fairies. The city was beautiful beyond belief until Grimmingthorn invaded. Vampires now overpopulated the city. Both of the Queens being pregnant they decided on a deal of which they live together. Making the new fairy princess and vampire kings grow together. Leading with a lot of obstacles on the way of childhood.

Warnings: Angst, trauma, manipulative themes mentioned, PTSD

Waking up, he was surprised to see two guards at his door. Coming fully to, he sprung up to his feet. “Where’s Y/n?!” The two guards continued staring forward without a sound. “Answer me!” Still not receiving a reply he shoved at the guards. Grabbing his shoulders the two guards finally looked at him.

“This is for your protection. There is a hunter in the castle. The queen gave us demands to not allow you to leave.”

“I don’t care what mother wants! I want to know where Y/n is! Is she okay?! Tell me!” Shoving him lightly, the guard scowled at him.

“We are not allowed to answer that. Go sit down kid. Also do you really believe she would be alive after that?”

“She has to be alive! She wouldn’t leave me alone.” Dropping to his knees he started bawling. “Please just tell me. I won’t tell mother anything. I just need to know if she’s okay.”

Laughing amongst themselves the two watched him. “Fine you want to know...”

“Please...”

“She’s dead.”

Feeling his world crumble and start to collapse from under him, he stopped everything. Figuring he does not have a purpose anymore if she was not alive. Standing to his feet, the two froze. Confused as they watched him pace to his bed and sit down. 

“Are you okay kid?”

“I’m fine, at least now I can be who I truly am.”

“Huh? Do you understand him?”

“Not really. I thought he loved her.”

“Me too. Kid, why are you so calm?”

“She wouldn’t allow me to do what I want. Didn’t want me to hurt anything. I’m free to do whatever now.” Still watching him walk over to his desk tensed. Opening the drawer, pulling out his family heirloom he was gifted. “Mother always said I was to use this when I felt it was threatened. She would understand when I tell her the guards hurt me.”

“Kid put that down. It is not to be played wi-” His words were cut short as his blood hit Heeseung’s face.

“Listen kid, you don’t need to do this.”

“But I do.” Swinging the sword through the air once more as the other body hit the floor. Dropping to the ground as well, he started crying hysterically. Feeling his soul leave he passed out.

                                                        ⨶⨶⨶

        Ten years have passed as the seven princes were becoming young adults. The Shadowfens still wondering what happened to their soon to be princess. All that was known was that the same night she disappeared, a blood bath occurred in the kingdom. Told simply that a deranged hunter got inside the castle. Now with the princes ranging from fifteen to nineteen soon to be twenty years old many things have changed. Especially the oldest prince. He is known as the most heartless and ruthless being to exist. Fearing even simple eye-contact with him became normal. Fearing that he would murder anything that looked his way, no one dared to initiate with him. Having heard the rumors that he went on a killing spree that  dreadful night in the kingdom. The many times someone was harmed by speaking his name was worrying. Even his own family stayed beware of his presence. He was always surrounded by his brothers who were just as ruthless as him. Getting the nickname the dreadful seven for many reasons. Grimmingthorns started to become weary of what would happen when the new King was crowned. Rightly so, as it was only three months away from the coronation. Still there was no new word on where the princess was. The poor queen was caught bawling on multiple occasions. The princes were asked if any of them could remember that night, but every time it was the same answer. ‘No, we were all in our rightful rooms’. Many thought the answer did not add up to the events that were previously told by their mother. Stated on numerous occasions, that there was a hunter, and the princes were scattered throughout the castle. She answered that she cannot remember once putting the seven princes in their rooms, but in fact keeping them out of them for safety. The more their stories collided the more people started to worry. If the princes and the queen were that easy to lie about the murder of a princess how easily would they lie about another. Many believed the oldest son, Heeseung preformed the act. Guards saying that on occasion he would become too protective of the princess. Some even saying he threatened them for being close to her. Hatred was thrown onto the four oldest princes Heeseung, Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon, while pity was thrown onto the youngest. Many felt bad for the three princes that grew up in a sad city because they were so young when the event occurred. None of them answered the questions when asked because they did not know. This affected them in Charter School, which is where a lot of questioning came along. Jungwon was known as the target of most issues. Being the smallest prince led to a lot of jokes, most being that he was going to be a joke of a prince. That was until she arrived. Walking by shoving her shoulder into one of them as she walked by. Going to find her only for her to already be gone. Jungwon wanted to thank her but could never find her. None of the seven could. When the story of her broke throughout the school many believed that she was an in-school bodyguard. Denying it to be true for the very reason that all of their guards were knights. A woman was not to be allowed the position of a knight. She would always appear when she was needed as if she was summoned. When Jay almost tripped down the stairs, she grabbed his shoulder telling him to watch his step before it even occurred. When Jake was attacked by a hunter, and she saved him. When Niki was down because of the training to become a prince, she lifted his chin high telling him to get back on his feet and that he was destined for greatness. The most shocking one was when Heeseung got shot by an arrow. Witnesses saying that she treated him with no hesitation muttering something about returning a favor. Some quoting the exact phrase, “This is returning the favor. Thank you, Hee.”. No one knew what it exactly meant, but many said his face dropped at her words. All color leaving his face when the syllables hit his ears. From that day forward nobody was able to find the mysterious woman. There was no trace of her ever, no footprint, no scent, no hair, nothing. She was conned the name pretty stranger. Known only for her pretty appearance and bravery. As time got closer and closer to coronation she appeared more frequently. Puzzled people that saw her started sketching he to hand out papers with her face, hoping someone knew something. Still nothing came up on the pretty stranger.

                                                             ⨕⨕⨕

“Heeseung, have you gotten one of these papers yet?”

“No, wait what paper exactly?”

“The one with her on it. They are everywhere now.”

“Oh, yes. I got three of them yesterday. Why do you ask, Jay?”

“Well, who do you think she is? I mean you know everyone in this city. How could she come from nowhere without you knowing?”

“I don’t know how she did it. May I ask you a question, Jay?”

“Go ahead.”

“Do you remember what Y/n looked like? I know you were young, but something has to have stuck with you.”

“No, no, I remember her clearly. You don’t think?”

“I do.” Staring at Heeseung for a moment, before rapidly pulling a chair out beside him. Sitting down loudly, still staring at him with wide eyes.

“Why? How? How could that be her? I thought she died that night ten years ago?”

“So much is leading back to her. Her scent is familiar, practically the same. Her eyes, they hold so much in them. They pierce into you in a different way. Her presence is dominating. She is what I would have expected Y/n to be like when she grew up.” Getting up, he ruffled his hair while pacing to the window. “Jay...do you really believe she died that day? Honestly?” Peeking over his shoulder, seeing his brother gapping like a fish a few times before dropping his head.

“I-I don’t know what I believe. Mother said that she died, but I don’t remember her ever being attacked like Mother said as well.”

“That’s because she wasn’t! She was shot! An arrow went straight threw her chest! Jay, nobody can get past those gates without being let in! Mother had to have opened those gates. She had her shot! She planned it! I saw it with my own eyes! There was no hunter! At all!”

“Calm down, Heeseung.”

“No! Mother is lying through her teeth! And you’re believing it! Everyone is believing it! They pulled me away from her Jay! Did you know that?!”

“I didn’t.”

“Exactly! Mother told me that night that it was for my own good! That she was dangerous! How?! How?! How was she dangerous?!”

Watching his brother scream as his emotions took over. Hearing footsteps as the other five came in. Stopping by Jay’s side as Heeseung let out everything that was bottled up over the past ten years. Crying, screaming, dry heaving was on the low scale of what was happening. None of them got near him because they knew of the consequences that would happen. It hurt them to watch, he was the strongest, the oldest, the brave one. He was letting every wall he had built fall. He was vulnerable, but not gullible. Most of his emotion was anger, no hatred. Aimed mostly at the woman he had to call his mother. Anything she tried to tell him, he ignored. He would sit back and watch his brothers get spoon fed lies. The only thing that she did not know, was that the boys followed their older brother over everybody. When he started showing hostility toward her so did the rest. Especially Sunoo, Jake, and Niki. The rest already had their individual reasons for not respecting her. Jay’s sprouted from constantly having to rebuild his brother because of her. Kneeling in front of his brother wrapping his arms around him, feeling him trembling. Feeling his brother shove his face into his chest, grabbing his shirt roughly. Yanking him forward a few times before slamming his fist into his chest. Wincing as he grabbed his fist. Opening Heeseung’s fist, while places his head on his shoulder. “Stop. Stop this. Don’t let her get this satisfaction. You are showing her that she is getting to you. You don’t want that.” Standing up, watching his brother slouch on his feet. “Get up. I said get the hell up! Are you weak? Do you belong on the ground?” Hearing a faint no, he repeated himself. Getting a louder response the second time, he leaned down wrapping his arms under his shoulders. Making him stand. “You don’t deserve this. Stop letting her get to you. You are stronger than her. Better than her. You are the new king.”

“But Y/n is gone. She killed her.”

“Heeseung, do you honestly believe she is dead?”

“I don’t know what I believe.” Sighing, Jay turned to his brothers. Zeroing in on Jake.

“Jake, did you meet her yet?”

“Pretty stranger? Yeah...more than once actually.”

“What did you sense from her?”

“There wasn’t anything that came up when I met her. However, there was a barrier put up.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is this block put up around us, when she gets nearby. It’s hard to describe. If I said a dome...would that make sense?” Pausing to hear some conformation, he continued. “There is a dome over us, not her. When she gets near us, there is a sense of familiarity. Our conscious recognizes her, but our brain can’t seem to remember her.”

“So you’re saying we do know her?”

“Exactly. She has history with us somewhere. Our paths have most definitely crossed at one point.”

“If we did then why can’t we remember her?”

“I already said why. Our memory was basically erased with anything that was about her.”

“Do you think it could possibly be Y/n?”

“I’m not saying yes, but it’s not impossible either. I would say to ask Heeseung because he was the closest with her, but also had the closest encounter with the pretty stranger. I don’t believe that would go well though seeing as he is a slobbering mess.”

“I’m not a mess.”

“Yeah, and we’re not princes.” Sunoo scoffed at Heeseung’s words. “Do you ever think you will get over her? This happened years ago and you’re still not over it. I get you were in love with her and all that but come on. You weren’t the only one of us that was affected. We all were. You are a selfish, mopping mess. Do you think Grimmingthorn will survive with a King like you? One that is so emotional that they break down at the mention of her name.”

“I do not break down at the mere mention of her name. Right now however, I am upset that there is a possibility of the pretty stranger being Y/n. Not her particularly, but us for not realizing it earlier. Next time you see her, stop her.”

Taglist~ @neptuniees​