#never shall i give up their canon in my mind

[juniemunie]

If we're not giving up, don't give up wherever you are.

That's a promise.

[horrorhot-line]

saiki's nsfw alphabet

➵ pairing: saiki x female!reader

➵ word count: 5.3k

➵ genre: nsfw

➵ warnings: minors dni. this post is pure smut, no plot here.

➵ summary: pretty self explanatory, the nsfw alphabet on your favourite boy.

➵ masterlist  (requests are open)

horrorhot-line © 2024. all rights reserved.

notes: so from the recent poll i've learnt one thing, ya'll are horny for this man, and of course i shall provide, but in the meantime i thought i'd upload a nsfw alphabet (give you guys crumbs) since i've done it for the other fandom i write for, hopefully this satisfies you all until the next chapter of ftl is out <3333 @ne0n-s this one's for you since you called me daddy— this author doesn't shy away from child support.

credit to @the-coldest-goodbye for the template

edit: saiki kusuo by his own canon is not a minor, read this for more context <3

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

➵ a for aftercare (what is he like after sex?)

you come first, always. the moment saiki finally empties his balls inside you after pulling yet another orgasm from you, his thrusts shallow as he tries to make sure every drop ends up inside your cunt and post-nut clarity hits him. not in a bad way, in the way he immediately thinks about your comfort. his mind cleared of lust when his balls are empty, you'll be leaking hours later and he knows his work is done. with that, he picks you up softly, knowing from reading your thoughts that you can't walk, legs shaking as your spent form lays on the bed. he does quick work of cleaning you every time, before he brings you back to his bed, gently placing you down before he slips in next to you underneath the covers, waiting until your arms and leg find his, draping yourself over him like a blanket before you try and pick his mind about how the sex was, a routine for you since he never says it himself. he finds a way to deflect the question, most of the time."how do you have the energy to talk but not go to the bathroom?" "uh— no, you're not gonna change the subject this time. now, what did I do to make you horny?""good grief woman, let me sleep." "kusuo!""fine… you backed up on me when I was cuddling you. it was a natural bodily reaction." you don't listen though, too busy assuming (rightfully so) that he was an ass guy, taking your notes. not true, he definitely preferred your tits over your back.

➵ b for body part (his favourite body part of his and also his partner’s)

he likes his hair, more specifically he fucking loves likes when your arm reaches underneath his shoulder as he fucks into you from above, fingers gingerly trailing up his back before they find their way to the back of his neck and into his hair, pulling lightly at the locks as he slams his pelvis into yours. his expression won't change, but if you ever took the chance to put your hands on his chest for leverage, you'd know just from his heartbeat the kind of effect you have on him. now whether you pick up on it or not, he loves prefers your tits, it's the first part of your body his hands grab whenever he has the chance. he will never tell you, but he loves using them as handles for when he's fucking you, hand on your tits as he pulls your body to meet his thrusts, keeping you there for a second longer as he bottoms out, dick impossibly deep in your cunt, tip bullying rather than kissing your cervix. when your eyes roll to the back of your head, and he reads your thoughts, of how you can barely breathe, how you can feel him in your gut, he curses himself for nearly cumming. "your heart rate spiked, thinking about me using you again?" "…people will hear you if you don't stop whining, pull my hair if you can't take it— like you usually do."

➵ c for cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

when saiki is done, pulling out after he's sure he's emptied every last drop of his cum inside your pussy, he spends a moment watching your chest rise and fall, covered in slick and sweat and his eyes will trail down to where his cum starts leaking out of you, only to use his fingers to shove it right back in, not blinking an eye as you twitch and complain about sensitivity, too busy making sure you don't waste all of what he has to give. he won't admit it, but just the way you squirm, pawing at his hand as he fingers you slowly is enough for him to go another round. "…how tired are you?" "like on a scale? 9.5 buddy, and this pussy is off limits until that number goes below 5." the latter sentiment falling on deaf ears as saiki continues to finger you. "…can you go one more round?" "seriously— but we just—" you end up with another creampie, surprise, surprise.

➵ d for dirty secret (self-explanatory, a dirty secret of his)

it's not that he doesn't have a dirty secret, it's more the fact he has too many, but his biggest one is probably the fact that he tries to see how many times he can make you cum before he does. he enjoys watching you come undone, from his fingers to his tongue, to his dick. saiki's a lowkey sadist, and so he adores likes pushing you past your limits, especially since you look so damn good fucked out, pupils blown and the dirtiest thoughts and images running through your head, urging him to pick up the pace as he forces you to take him all over again. is it any surprise that he'll mentally set a number and he won't stop fucking your bruised pussy until he reaches it? no, no it isn't."don't lie, I know you can cum again, y/n, and I'm going to keep going— until you do."

➵ e for experience (how experienced is he? does he know what he’s doing?)

he has no experience, your body being the first he was ever comfortable to touch, that being said, it doesn't mean he's clueless. his telepathy comes in clutch, and your thoughts and desires, the ones you try so hard to control until he has you alone and you come undone under his gaze. they guide his hands as saiki squeezes your nipple between his thumb and index, watching as you writhe under his touch, overstimulated from how he's spent the better half of an hour teasing myou, making sure you're so far gone, that you practically sob when he finally pulls out his cock from the confines of his draws, he'll drag his length up and down your slit, tip catching on the hood of your clit, and when you slap a hand across your mouth to stop yourself from moaning too loud, he takes the chance to shove himself inside you in one go, and if you opened your eyes instead of squeezing them shut as you try and get used to the intrusion, you'd see the smirk twitching at the corner of his lips."tell me how you want it, y/n. use your words."

➵ f for favourite position (this goes without saying. will probably include a visual)

this is a hard one for him, but if he really had to choose it would be fucking you standing up. the first time he tried it was in a storage closet at school. your idea of fun had been to sit behind him in class all day, thinking of the most indecent things he could do to you if he just made a move. he knew you were trying to get him to crack and make the first move like he did the first time he fucked you in that very same classroom. sure he had popped a boner, but he wasn't about to let you phase him more than that, saiki had self-control after all. he didn't. when lunch rolled around, you found yourself in the boys changing room, his fingers wasting no time to pull your panties to the side and shove his middle finger until it was buried to the knuckle inside your already wet cunt. and when he heard the thoughts of a group of people heading for the same room you were both in, his hazy brain supplied the closet as a hiding place, which was located in the far corner of the room and had been cleared out, pulling you in after him. said students entered, gossiping about what not as they looked for their misplaced belongings, but saiki wasn't paying attention, he was preoccupied with the way you were trapped against the back of the closet and his chest, looking up at him with pleading eyes, and damn, that self-control of his was hanging on by a mere thread. one that snapped when your hand found his, leading them to your cunt yet again. he didn't waste any time after that, pulling up your leg with one hand, using his pants zipper as an opening to get his dick out and line up with you, pushing in ever so slowly so you don't make too much noise and alert the others in the room. for a moment saiki wasn't sure what came over him, to risk exposure like this wasn't something he'd allow normally, and yet when he felt how deep he'd managed to get inside you from that angle, hitting a spot you let him know telepathically that he's never hit before, and the way your pussy quivered around the base of his length, gave him the answer, his tone barely above a whisper as he lowered his head to your ear. "you got what you wanted— happy?"

➵ g for goofy (is he more serious in the moment, or is he humorous, etc)

he's serious in the moment, maybe too much sometimes, to the point where every so often you'll wonder if he actually feels anything since his expression doesn't change much, even when he's fucking you into the mattress, one hand on your hip pushing you against his length, the other rubbing your clit so you can cum on his dick again. then, when the thought does cross your mind, even if you don't bring it up, he'll go out of his way to show you just how much you affect him. eyebrows furrowed, sweat coating his body as he fucks into you, lips parted ever so slightly, and if you listen closely and hold back your moaning, you'll hear the way he groans against your skin as he tries to hold back from filling you up with his cum right then and there. then again, he's not always serious, since he likes to talk to fill the silence, more like he enjoys the way you clench around him since you love the sound of his voice."just like that. come on, y/n, cum for me."

➵ h for hair (how well groomed is he, does the carpet match the drapes)

he doesn't shave regularly, then again, he doesn't need to. you did ask him about it once since you swore you'd never seen him trim down there, and the monologue he went into breaking the fourth wall again as he explained how he used telekinesis to make sure he didn't develop a bush and halted the growth when it reached a certain length, truth be told you zoned out. you prefer him unshaven anyway, the happy trail of pink that goes past his sweatpants and makes your mind run wild when you catch sight of it every time his shirt lifts to show skin, the pink in general is such a pretty colour you can't imagine not seeing it every time he whips his dick out. of course, saiki knows this all too well with how he invades your mind with his telepathy, and it's the main reason he's opted to keep it.

➵ i for intimacy (how is he during the moment, romantic aspect…)

saiki isn't romantic with his words. ever heard of the saying, you don't have to say 'I love you', to say I love you? this man is the definition of show, don't tell, and even if the esper doesn't proclaim his love for you out loud from rooftops or skyscrapers, you see it clearly in the way he holds onto whatever part of you he can, pulling you impossibly close as he slowly grinds into you from on top, doing his best to drag out your pleasure, watching and listening for any signs of discomfort, and when he finds that one spot that has you seeing stars, he won't stop until your eyes roll to the back of your head and he's trailing kisses down your neck as you push against his hips with your palm to try and slow him down— and when you do, he'll grab your hand softly, intertwining your fingers and throwing it over your head before he's kissing you again and swallowing whatever sounds threaten to escape from your lips at his brutal pace. "shhh, I've got you. cum for me, y/n, just one more time. come on."

➵ j for jacking off (masturbation headcanon)

saiki doesn't really feel the need to masturbate, he's tried it before and realised that it only adds to his (horniness) frustrations. the only thing that really helps clear his mind is you, but that doesn't mean he doesn't jerk himself off. once in a blue moon when he's waiting for you to get back home and he can't wait, he'll sit in the dining room since the spot has the best angle of the front door, and he'll pull out his dick, stroking it slowly, tugging as he hisses under his breath. he'll let the burning in his stomach grow until it's all he can think about, barely noticing when you walk through the door only to trap you against the nearest wall, hands reaching under your clothes so you can feel what he's been struggling with until you showed up. once he's decided you're ready for him, he'll pull your pants down and panties to the side and fuck you like he can't think straight which he can't."what took so long, y/n? you took a shortcut— didn't you? even after I told you not to… the next time I catch you doing it again, I won't let you cum."

➵ k for kink (one or more of his kinks)

saiki doesn't have kinks he does, he reckons his are the same as yours, since whatever you're into, he is too. though he won't ever say, the most turned on he's ever been is when he's fucking his cum into you, dick still sensitive from stuffing you full of his load, but the idea that this creampie might be the one that gets you pregnant, might be the one that makes you his completely, drives him insane. the first time you suggested that there wasn't a point in using a condom or birth control because you both were old and secure enough to try for a baby, he almost fucked you unconscious. 9 rounds later and he still couldn't get his dick to go down, surmising that the only thing that would satiate him would be when you were expecting. in short, saiki has a huge breeding kink. "no more, kusuo, I can't— please." "no. you can, and you will. you wanted this, remember?"

➵ l for location (favourite places to do the do)

saiki claims he doesn't have a favourite place, your bedroom or his— he doesn't care so long as he can have his way with you. what he refuses to disclose is his favourite place was that one time his friends had a get-together at a karaoke bar, and teruhashi was on her usual shenanigans, trying to woo saiki even after she knew the two of you were official. he had picked up on your insecurities and the hint of jealousy that lay beneath it, and when you left to order dessert for him at the front, he left the group not too long after, catching you in the hallway as you tried to figure out where to go, pulling you into an empty room, locking the door and turning the music on with his telekinesis, the song playing doing wonders to drown out the noises that escaped past your lips as he fucked you from behind and covered your mouth with his free hand for extra measure. he'd never admit, but your frantic thoughts of wanting to enjoy how deep he was hitting and how teruhashi could walk in at any moment, only fuelled his momentum until he was sure that the sound of his hips snapping into you was louder than the speaker of the room. "they— they'll notice, kusuo." "not… if you keep quiet, they won't."

➵ m for motivation (what turns him on, gets him going)

saiki swears you've messed up his mind— made him weird. before, it was you thinking about sex and nothing else in his vicinity that would get his stomach burning until he was thinking about it too, and then he'd fuck you into the sheets until you were satisfied before he went back to whatever he was doing before he was balls deep inside you. now, a mere touch is enough to set him off. from you ghosting your fingers over his back and under his shirt when you're scrolling through the internet, to an innocent look shot his way from across the room when he's busy and you're checking in with him, anything is enough to set him off when he's with you. it was a setback, sure, and it hindered his life every now and then until he took care of the problem. except it's gotten to the point where saiki can't stand not touching you, or being in your immediate vicinity. so now, on your days off, saiki chooses to pull you onto his lap, keeping you there and shoving his dick inside you, multitasking until you decide you can't take it anymore and try and grind against him, only for him to hold your hips in place immediately, your cunt clenching around the base of his cock until the esper decides he'll give into your wants. in short, you make saiki horny and his solution for it is cockwarming.

➵ n for nicknames (what are his favourite pet names for you? what does he call you when you’re both alone?)

truth be told, he doesn't really use nicknames for you, he prefers your name, using it to command your attention when you're drunk on his dick and struggling to take what he gives. from time to time though, he'll let one slip past his lips, enjoying how you clench around him, so close to your release, only for him to shoot you a small smirk and pull out completely so he can admire the way you whine for him to put it back in, smug from how utterly pretty you look drooling over his cock.

"struggling? that's too bad, we're nowhere near finished— be a good girl and behave for me, and I might let you cum again."

➵ o for oral (preference in giving or receiving, skills, etc)

at first, saiki preferred sex by itself and didn't see the need to give or receive, until you asked if he could try eating you out. the first time he did, he thoroughly enjoyed every second, watching as you writhed under his tongue. thinking back to it, maybe it was the way you pulled on his pink locks every time he paid any attention to your clit, or the way you tried to push him away, only for him to grab your thighs and force you to ride out your high on his tongue until you came again. or maybe it was how quickly you came undone, struggling to form sentences. all he knows is when he has the time for it, he'll make you cum on his tongue before he plugs you up with his dick. "wake up, y/n— don't pass out just yet. we're nowhere near done."

➵ p for pace (is he fast or rough? slow or sensual?)

he's both, it's whatever the mood calls for and how mean he's feeling. but he's mostly fast and rough the first few rounds, setting a punishing pace as he holds your hands above your head, forcing you to take every inch, that way he can watch how your face contorts in pleasure at all he's giving you. then, when you've come however many times, he'll grind into you instead of snapping his hips into yours, enjoying how you squirm, only going back to his rough pace when you beg him to. "and here I thought you said you couldn't go another round. what happened, y/n?"

➵ q for quickies (his opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc)

saiki prefers real sex any day over quickies, but with how busy life gets, sometimes that's all he has time for. he loves fucking you whenever he can no matter where you two are, since he can always teleport you to his place to take you against whatever wall is closest, so the want he feels for you subsides at least a little until he can fuck you properly like you deserve. he won't ever tell you this, but sometimes he prefers quickies over real sex, if only to watch you struggle to do whatever menial task calls your attention as you struggle to walk around the house with him thrusting into you from behind, he goes out of his way to fuck you as hard as he can so your legs give out, only for him to lower himself onto the floor and fill you up again with his dick as you try to crawl away. "where do you think you're going? we're not finished."

➵ r for risk (is he game to experiment, does he take risks, etc)

you were the one who taught him what intimacy was, beyond what he learnt in sex ed, and his vast knowledge of pleasure is thanks to you being patient until he picked up things by himself. so in essence he's game for experimentation so long as it's not too weird. now, when it comes to risk, saiki would rather avoid it, public sex and so on, since he has an allergy to being the centre of attention— that doesn't mean he hasn't chosen to fuck you in the worst situations, using his powers like invisibility as a fail-safe. like the time he fucked you in an alley on the way to a date, he made the conscious decision mistake of ghosting his hand over your thigh, before stroking the skin softly until your mind was running wild on the train, only to beg him to do something because you couldn't handle going the rest of the day without him taking responsibility. and responsibility he took, pulling you into an alley behind a dumpster, using his power over invisibility to stop anyone from seeing how fucked out you were when he pulled your panties to the side, only to slide in with no resistance, pussy pulsing around his dick as he swallowed your moans by moving your face to the side so he could kiss you from behind. "they can't see, but they can hear you. unless you want me to stop y/n, I suggest you try and keep quiet."

➵ s for stamina (how many rounds can he go for, how long does he last)

the answer to this one isn't simple, since saiki has the libido of a horse. the highest number you can remember is 16, but then again, you stopped counting halfway through the night and then picked up with whatever number you left off at 7 in your mind, 11 in total. considering how high your sex drive has gotten since saiki made you his, you assumed you'd be able to handle it, and the esper would be the one struggling, yet it's the opposite and no matter how you try, it seems saiki is always insatiable. all because he can't get enough of you, and since saiki thinks it's your fault he's become like this to begin with, you pay for it."don't pass out just yet, I expected better y/n— with how you tried to tease me earlier."

➵ t for toy (does he own toys? does he use them? partner or himself?)

he doesn't own any toys, and the old vibrator you used before him is lost somewhere in storage since saiki knows he can please you better than any toy, and if he's not there, then you can wait until he comes back and finally fucks you. masturbating would be an option but saiki prefers you pent up so when the two of you get a moment alone you're so far gone he can have his way with you, teasing you for hours on end, and every time you whine or sob, he'll remind you that the wait is worth it as he shoves his cock back in, hissing at the way you clench around him before leaning down to kiss you and swallow your cries of relief when he fills you up— that, and saiki's fingers can double as a vibrator if you want them to so there's always that option."come on, don't cry now— cum for me one more time and I'll give you what you want."

➵ u for unfair (how much does he like to tease)

he's very unfair but your opinion may be biased, since everything he does even if it's innocent it's not, but you don't need to know that just adds to your frustrations. like when he's enjoying whatever dessert he's managed to get his hands on, he always licks the spoon after every bite, and truth be told it does things to you, especially when he picks up on your staring, and makes eye contact with you as he cleans his utensil. at least, it always ends with you getting your brains fucked. you can't really complain when you're draped over his thighs as he forces you to ride him, deciding you're too slow and taking over as he snaps his hips up into you until you swear you can feel him in your gut. all the while, he'll take his sweet time, teasing that one spot that has your eyes rolling back until he works up the pace to just fuck you until you can feel his tip slamming into your cervix. the cherry on top is how he acts like he doesn't know damn well why you're so horny for him. "i barely did anything and you're dripping all over the floor… why, y/n? care to enlighten me?"

➵ v for volume (how loud is he? what sounds does he make?)

he's not loud, he talks but you rarely hear him feeling good. that's what makes it better in your opinion, since when he does make even the slightest noise, it goes straight to your pussy and it's enough to push you over the edge. so the few times when he's fucking into you, hand over your mouth so no one else can hear how good you're feeling from his dick, the other holding your hip in place so he can push into you nice and slow. when you clench around him, and he buries his head in the crook of your neck, soft groans escaping him at how tight you are, you cum on the spot, the last string of your sanity snapping, and it only spurs him on, his volume increasing if only by a little, moaning quietly as he loses himself to the pleasure, his thrusts speeding up, not giving you a chance to come down from your high when you feel another orgasm building up. "that's it, just like that y/n. cum for me again."

➵ w for wildcard (random headcanon for him)

saiki always cleans you up first, whether it's tissues on hand or a wet cloth, he'll make sure to wipe you down first and clean up after you before he fixes his own image. you don't pick up on it straight away, mostly because of how fucked out you are after, but the one time you do, it melts your heart instantly. it's not a huge gesture but it still pulls at your heartstrings as you watch him carefully wipe away the cum from your thighs, ignoring how he raises his eyebrow at your epiphany, rolling his eyes afterwards. "it's not a big deal, stop giving me googly eyes." "wha— well, I never.""…you need to stop watching that bridgerton stuff and go out for once, hug a tree or something."

➵ x for x-ray (what’s going on in those pants of his)

he's not big, or small, to be honest, the first time you got a good look at saiki's dick, you were sure it was perfect, like the size and look. his dick is pale, like his skin but his tip is always an angry red when he's hard, and it manages to kiss your cervix every time he's fully buried inside you, and his size is big enough that you can see a slight bulge in your stomach when he's inside you. correction, his dick is perfect for you.

➵ y for yearning (how high is his sex drive)

yearning, well it's not exactly yearning for saiki. it's much more than that, it's wanting to swallow every sound that leaves your lips in fear someone else might hear. like his inability to voice how much you mean to him is let out in the way he zeroes in on every thought going through your head, the mental images spurring him on to kiss you, touch you, ruin you until all you can think of is how good you feel, holding back from filling you up right then and there because you need to be utterly gone for him to be satisfied.

it's definitely more like needing to feel you clenching around him, the desire the only thing he can focus on to the point where the voices of all those strangers he hears every second he's awake is dulled, like you've tuned out some radio until all that's left is the sounds you make as he fucks into you like he's finally snapped and thrown all sense out the window, drunk on your body (which to be fair, he is). more like wanting to pull you impossibly close, your warmth nearly scorching him and all it does is add to the pit of fire rising in his stomach with every thrust into your cunt. it's more like wanting so badly with every fibre of his being to explain what it is he feels for you, and it definitely can't be described with a simple term like yearning, because if he could describe it saiki is sure he burns for you.

his sex drive is very high. saiki has enough energy that even you struggle, and that's saying something with how horny he gets you just by existing. and yet, you're the first one to tap out, albeit after the 9th or 10th round of cum he fills you with, but still. you have to live with the fact that he can fuck you until you pass out and come to again, but you're not complaining. surprisingly, saiki is almost always unstable until you're completely ruined and all you can think about is his dick. the only time he'll ever stop is when he knows you can't take anymore, telepathy always comes in hand for that.

"one more round— just one more and you can go back to working."

➵ z for zzz (how quickly does he fall asleep afterwards)

after the lust subsides, when the haziness clears up and he's no longer pussy drunk, saiki is always ready to pass out. all he wants to do after he's emptied his balls into you, is to pull you close and shut his eyes until the next day. but if there are things he needs to take care of or you want to talk about whatever new thing you're hyper-fixated on, he'll stay awake until you're ready to go to bed. "don't you get tired of scrolling through tiktok and forcing me to react to those weird reddit stories?" "never!" "fine, but if I don't wake up tomorrow, you'll pay." "your empty threats would sound a lot more frightening if you weren't trying to bury your head in my tits."

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2024 taglist:

@bre99 @mindless-rock @skylarmoon119 @sle3pyh3ad2 @mylovelysnowflake @alicekumori @imkumichan @lvvcian @hyejoolips @citrusequalsfrogs @tsukikoxo @thecaminator @heartsatoru @poisonapple24 @itsluvly @shirozukie2

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Perfect illusion (Sauron x Celebrimbor’s daughter!reader)

-> in which you have to sit by your father’s side as Sauron coerces him into finishing the Nine, realizing just how blind you have been all along

Warnings: No romance, just angst. You marry Annatar (+ implied smut) when you don’t know he’s Sauron, so there’s all the emotional torment and consent issues that come with that. Uncomfortable touching (not smut) after you find out he’s Sauron. Manipulation, mind control and victim blaming as per canon

You sit in your chair, watching your father work. A familiar thing, which you have done a million times before. Before, however, there had never been a shackle around his wrist, or blood marring his brow. There had never been rubble scattered about the workplace, or the sound of battle coming through the window. Before, there had never been The Dark Lord standing behind you, his hands weighing you down as though the ceiling had collapsed upon you.

That is not to say that they are forceful. No, his touch is soft, as it has always been, his fingers brushing your hair gently, almost absent-mindedly. At times they reach your neck or your cheek, grazing your skin and sending shivers down your spine. You dig your nails painfully into your own hands to keep from trembling. It’s the least, even if the most inconsequential thing, that you can still do—to deny him this small satisfaction.

“Stop that,” Sauron says, his voice deceivingly gentle as he gives your shoulder a warning squeeze. “You’ll only hurt yourself.”

Of course, that only makes you want to clench your fists harder. But you force yourself to open them, mindful of what might happen if you disobey.

“You once took comfort in my touch,” he says. If you knew no better, you’d believe the sorrow in his voice is genuine. “It is only comfort I wish to give you now as well.”

His knuckles brush your cheek, painfully tender and excruciatingly familiar. Though you’ve been trying to keep as still as possible, you cannot help but turn your face away, if only just an inch.

His hand stills mid-air, then returns to your shoulder. He takes a breath, quiet but long and deep.

“I have caused you suffering. That is true,” he admits, patiently. “But I assure you that this too shall pass. Once Middle-Earth is healed, and the people will see what we did here... your feelings will change.”

You can’t help how your breath quickens, chest trembling with anger. It only becomes worse when Sauron puts his fingers to your chin, coaxing you to twist your neck and look up into his piercing eyes. “You must know it pains me,” he says, “treating you like—”

“Like you have treated countless others?” your father intercedes in haste.

Sauron’s attention turns to Celebrimbor then, as your father had no doubt hoped it would. The whole time he’d been working, his eyes kept straying to you, as if to make sure you are still alive and whole. To your relief, Sauron removes his hand from your face. To your dread, he is now moving towards Celebrimbor, displeased with his remark.

“Like Morgoth treated me,” he corrects, hovering over your father.

You are not bound. You could, in theory, try to run. But you are not foolish enough to believe you could escape. Any such attempt would only earn you a shackle of your own, similar to your father’s. Though, you’re starting to believe that the cold bite of metal might just be more bearable than the silent imprisonment of your husband’s touch.

Your husband. The word twists in your stomach, carves holes into your heart. It all came so naturally to you when you spoke the vows and sealed the bond. Now, you can’t imagine how you got here. All you know are the facts of what happened, and even those no longer seem to make sense in your weakened mind.

You know who you used to be, when the world still made sense: daughter of Celebrimbor, the greatest of Elven smiths. You think his talents mixed with your mother’s magic may have resulted in your gift to manipulate materials in particular ways which do not necessarily come naturally. You know the mithril had refused to be coaxed into joining with the other metals without your intervention. You know Halbrand had been the one to suggest that you try it.

You know how easily he had endeared himself to you from the moment you met, and how confusing and sharp the pain had been when he disappeared without a trace. You know how quick you had been to let him into Eregion when he returned, despite Galadriel’s inexplicable request that you refrain from doing so.

You know the transition from Halbrand to Annatar had been unexpected, if not jarring, but in the end the pull you felt towards him was unchanged. You know there were touches, desire... trust.

You no longer know why. Because there never was a reason—not a true one, anyway. Only his deception, his mind games. But at the time, you didn’t know. At the time, it had made perfect sense when, one night, you had found yourself at the dining table, anxious about giving your father the news of what had happened a mere few hours prior.

Annatar was to your side, sitting at the head of the long table, while your father was across from you. He may be the Lord of Eregion, but he had insisted that an emissary of the Valar should take the most important seat. Yet despite your father’s deep admiration for Annatar, you were not sure how he would react.

“As you know,” you began tentatively, “Lord Annatar has been a close and trusted friend to me, these past few weeks. As he has been to you.”

“Indeed,” your father nodded. His unsure smile and knitted brow told you he was at a loss for what you were leading up to. You opened your mouth, but found yourself quite tongue-tied. You glanced at Annatar, who graciously took over.

“However,” he continued, lips forming a gentle, almost bashful smile, “after a time, we found that there were... deeper feelings between us.”

Though he was speaking to Celebrimbor, his gaze sought yours. You met it, heart fluttering as he wrapped your hand in his, resting them on the table in such a way that the new ring on your finger was in your father’s line of sight.

“Annatar has proposed marriage, father,” you finally say, turning to him. “And I have accepted.”

Your father blinked, eyebrows lifting in an expression of wordless surprise. When words failed to leave his mouth, Annatar took it upon himself to break the silence once more.

“My friend, I...” He trailed off, uncharacteristically hesitant in his choice of words. “I am well aware I should have asked for your blessing beforehand. Especially since things have progressed with such unusual haste, but—”

“Oh, nonsense!” your father burst out, as if finally regaining his senses. “Nonsense, my friend, this...” A short laugh bubbled out of him as he turned to you with a face-splitting grin. “Such wonderful news! Oh, my dear,” he took your hand in his, gazing in wonder upon your betrothal ring before he pressed a kiss filled with fatherly love to your knuckles. “You could not have found a better match,” he praised.

“The same is true for myself,” Annatar said, giving you that kind smile of his that never failed to have you return it.

Relief washed over you. All was well.

You’d be lying to say there isn’t a part of you that resents your father for giving you away so eagerly. He could not stop you no matter who you chose to wed, but with anyone else, he’d have at the very least warned you that the engagement had happened much too quickly. He’d have been more cautious of your betrothed, tried to determine whether or not their intentions towards you were true. But Annatar, in your father’s eyes, was of divine nature, and the thought of becoming kin with one of his kind had filled your father with such pride, it overshadowed all else.

You wonder if he is as ashamed of that moment now as you are. And of everything that came after.

You’re not sure if speaking the wedding vows had somehow allowed Sauron better dominion over your mind, or if you were simply too far gone by then. Little by little, more and more over time, you came to depend on your husband. When your father began acting strange and ill-tempered, Annatar alone knew of his ailment, and he alone could help him heal. He alone could provide the comfort you needed as you watched your father lose himself by the day, unaware that the same was happening to you.

He always knew when and what to say to bring you peace. He never seemed to leave your side, whether in the presence of others or alone. And you craved being alone with him more than anything else. He was an expert lover, so attuned to the needs of your flesh, it was as though he could slither beneath your skin and discern for himself which of his touches felt the most exquisite. Being near him was a delight in itself, but intimacy with him was simply addictive.

Warm morning light flooded through your window, and you wondered how you were supposed to ever leave this bed. Lying on your husband’s chest, skin to skin in the afterglow of your love-making, everything else in the world seemed so inconsequential in comparison.

“Do you ever sleep?” you asked, wondering suddenly how it had never crossed your mind before. He was always by your side as you drifted to sleep—most often spent from yet another passionate exchange—and he was there to greet you each time you awoke. Yet he was not of your kind, and an emissary of the Valar seemed to you above such things as sleep.

“It is not in my nature to sleep,” he admitted, fingers tracing gentle lines up and down your spine. “But I rather enjoy laying by your side as you do.”

Your heart soared at the quiet adoration in his voice. And before long, you found yourself aching for him once more. You brushed his neck with your lips, lightly at first, and then with more insistence, making your desire known.

“Again?” he asked, faintly amused.

You lifted your head, the smallest furrow in your brow. “Does it bother you?”

“Not in the least,” he replied. If that wasn’t reassurance enough, his lips caught yours, and he moved so that your body was safely beneath his, and even the thousandth time would not have been enough.

You can still taste his kisses—and they feel like ash. You remember how each time you became one, it felt better, but only now can you see how it made things so much worse. A corner of your mind, growing larger by the day, was always occupied by him. Each time you aided in the making of one of your father’s Ring designs, you did so with thoughts of Annatar. You know now why he wanted it that way—your craving for his touch, your utter devotion to him, seeping into the Rings the Power, one by one. You think you might have known even then. But he was always careful not to push you too far, to bring you back from the brink of suspicion before it ever started to take shape in your mind.

Even when the reality of things was undeniable before your eyes.

Your last night before finding out had been spent in a dreadful haze. Sleep felt more like a waking prison as you dreamt of terrible, yet distant things, hearing screams without seeing where they came from, seeing blood and ashes on streets you felt you should but could not recognize. You were grateful to wake up and see the sunlit sky beyond your window. Its light adorned your husband’s hair beautifully, the familiar sight of him sitting on the edge of your bed bringing you further relief.

“There you are,” he greeted softly, brow creased with a trace of concern. “You gave us quite the scare.”

“What—?” Your attempt to speak ended in a cough, as if you’d been breathing dust instead of air. Annatar left your side in haste, returning but a moment later with a glass of water.

“Here,” he said, putting the glass to your lips. You took it gladly, relishing the water soothing your throat. Once Annatar had helped you sit up and settle against the pillows, you asked, as you had meant to, “What happened?”

There was pity in his gaze. “Don’t you remember, my love?”

You shut your eyes, trying to grasp at figments of blurry images. “I was outside, I think. Mirdania was there. And you. And...”

Annatar shook his head, speaking as softly as if to a frightened child. “Earlier in the day, perhaps. When you collapsed, you were in the forge, with me and Lord Celebrimbor. When you sought to aid your father in merging the metals for his latest attempt at the Nine, your efforts over these past weeks took their toll on you.” He gave you a sympathetic smile, fingers brushing your cheek. “You fell right into my arms.”

“I did?”

His words did evoke images. The memory was there, somewhere. But the more you tried to reach for it, the more your insides churned.

“Be at ease,” Annatar soothed. “You merely slept through the night. I have watched over you all the while, and I shall do so until you are better.”

Better. Yes, you would get better.

But you knew, deep in your bones, that you were not well. The sense of dread within you refused to recede, lingering in the furthest corner of your mind even in the moments where you felt the safest. Something deeply rooted in you wanted it all to be over—the work, the forging, the ailments, your father’s as well as yours. You wished so desperately for things to return to the way they used to be before the Rings, it felt as though a great fist had clenched around your heart and refused to release it. But then again, before the Rings, there hadn’t been Annatar. And your need for him hurt just as terribly.

In the end, everything hurt. Everything.

“Are you in pain?” your husband murmured. You hadn’t realized tears were already sliding down your cheeks.

You broke into sobs.

He slipped beneath the covers and wrapped you in his arms. It became even harder to breathe, and you clung to him all the harder for it, desperate to find that peace that he had offered you time and again.

“Hush, my love,” he cooed, holding you close to his chest as you wept for reasons unknown. “All will be well soon.”

You had fallen into his arms, just like he’d said. Only, you hadn’t been inside the forge, but outside, just as your mind had fruitlessly struggled to remind you. You were there when the siege alarms began to blare and chaos erupted in the streets. When you saw your husband walk amongst it, you had run to him at once. Asking where your father was, wanting to stand united with your kin amidst the unfolding madness.

Darkness had engulfed your vision instead, shrouding your memory as well. He must have carried you back to your chambers himself, crafting an illusion within your mind to match the one in which Celebrimbor was already trapped.

It makes sense now. How desperately you had clung to the very source of your misery. One cannot satisfy thirst by drinking sea water, but you, in your foolishness, had drunk enough to drain the sea.

“You chose it,” he now tells your father, speaking of the suffering he had inflicted, “not I.”

And there’s a part of you that believes him, even as another screams inside you that his words are poison. You cling desperately to the scrap of reason within you which recognizes that his claims are atrocious—that it is Celebrimbor who forced Sauron to torment him, that he is the true author of his own torment. You watch in disbelief, feeling as though you’re falling through the floor, waiting for your father to refute Sauron’s lies as if hearing the truth spoken out loud will save you from shattering to pieces at the bottom of the abyss.

And you can tell he wants to. There is defiance in Celebrimbor’s eyes as he glances to you, the fire of his will still burning beneath the burden of his torment. But, slowly and surely, he tames it. Averts his gaze in shame.

“Very well,” your father says. “Give me the blame. Punish me as you see fit. You have already taken my city. But I beg you,” his voice trembles, tears gathering in his eyes, “let my daughter leave.”

A smirk tugs at Sauron’s lips. “Your daughter...” He returns to your side, gathering your stiff hand in his and thumbing your wedding ring. “...is my wife, Celebrimbor. It is only natural that she should remain at my side.”

You and Celebrimbor exchange a despairing glance. Your father, determined to plea for your freedom—you, fearing the consequences he might bring upon himself.

“Please—”

“Father, don’t—”

“No!” he cries out. “I all but pushed you into his arms.” Tears slip from his regret-filled eyes. “That is my fault.”

Sauron takes a seat next to you, his brow furrowed as if he couldn’t possibly grasp the reason for such grievances.

“She has given herself to me freely,” he says, your hand still trapped in his as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Have you not?”

You glare daggers at him.

“How could I have chosen you freely, when I never knew who you were?” you hiss. It does nothing to deter him.

“Why do you lie to yourself? You knew.” You shake your head. He nods his, insisting, “Yes. Deep within your heart, you knew.”

“Don’t say such things to her,” Celebrimbor pleads, “I beg you—”

“Such things as the truth, Celebrimbor?” Sauron asks roughly, irritated by the interruption. “Tell him, my dear wife,” he challenges, “that you never once suspected I was more than what I claimed to be. That you never felt the caress of darkness within my touch.”

You cannot look at him, or at your father. You cannot speak those words, however desperately you wish you could.

“Tell him,” Sauron insists cruelly, squeezing your hand to the point of near pain.

“I did,” you murmur miserably. Sauron loosens his threatening grip on your hand, pleased.

“Yet even as you cried yourself to sleep in fear of it,” he goes on, “it was within my arms that you took comfort. Because, in truth, you were not afraid of who I was—you were afraid of how little it mattered to you.” A last spark of defiance drives you to make the mistake of meeting his gaze, and his sickly sympathetic smile makes you shudder within his hold. “He needed to create,” he reasons. “You needed to be desired. And I needed you both.”

His arm is no longer around you, but the relief is meager and short-lived as he then cups your cheek, thumb catching the tears that have begun to fall from your eyes. He insists to hold his hand there as you flinch, screwing your eyes shut. A small sigh leaves him.

“Have I not treated you well?” he asks. “Was I not kind to you when you most needed it? A caring husband, a most... generous lover?”

“Hold your wicked tongue!” you all but growl, your head jerking with enough force that he retracts his hand. Your eyes fly to Celebrimbor, and see that he has shut his in great pain. Shame crawls under your skin. Sauron smiles in a mockery of bashfulness.

“Forgive me for speaking of such matters before your father, but it is only the truth. You must admit that. And it need not change.”

His hand returns to your cheek then, pressed more firmly to it, and you only now realize it’s the one he cut. You feel a warm wetness on your skin, and know that once he removes it, his blood, black as the pitch, would be smeared there, marking you even further as his.

“The Rings are nearly finished,” you say through gritted teeth. “You never truly desired me. What more use could you have of me?”

“Who says I never desired you?” he whispers, almost as if wounded. “I would not have made you my wife, if it hadn’t been my wish to make you my Queen as well.”

His voice is so alluring, so saccharine and familiar to your ears, it takes everything in you to remind yourself that every word is a lie. And if you grasp at reason, you can tell why he speaks them. Because of your involvement in making the Rings, you would always have some measure of influence over them, so it serves him well to have you under his control. But not only that. He would relish knowing he has subdued you to his will. That he not only ensnared the mind of the greatest of Elven smiths, but also claimed his daughter as his prize.

A storm brews in Sauron’s eyes as he senses your persisting reluctance. His fingers grip your chin, pulling you close so that his breath falls on your cheek as he speaks.

“You will say yes to me once more.”

You hate how determined he is to make it so. You hate how helpless you are to do anything other than glare back at him.

But what you hate the most is that you are not certain he is wrong.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Harry Potter is Actually Really Clever

So often, I feel like Harry is underrated in his own series and I want to talk about how much I love Harry James Potter. Harry is my favorite character in the books and I want to showcase some moments of Harry proving the Sorting Hat knew what it was talking about when it comes to Harry possibly doing well in Slytherin and even Ravenclaw.

(I have more moments listed in my notes, and I'm in book 6 in my current reread, so I definitely am not covering everything)

Let's start then with the words of the Sorting Hat itself:

“Hmm,” said a small voice in his ear. “Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There’s talent, A my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting….So where shall I put you?” Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin. “Not Slytherin, eh?” said the small voice. “Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that

(Philosopher's Stone, page 88)

The Hat says Harry is brave enough for Gryffindor, clever enough and talented enough for Ravenclaw and has the ambition and thirst to prove himself for Slytherin. And the hat isn't wrong about it's assessment of Harry. Harry is clever and talented and I so often find it underplayed in fics, or ones that do include it, acting like it's fanon characterization when it's really isn't.

Harry Potter is canonically a BAMF.

So, here I'm going to talk about his cleverness and give some moments of Harry being clever from the books.

(I'll have a different post for his magical prowess.)

Harry Has Brilliant Memory

So, Harry James Potter practically has close to an eidetic memory, and no one really seems to mention it.

An eidetic memory is described as an almost perfect recollection of images or events. And Harry actually shows himself as being very capable of it:

Angelina: “…Harry, didn’t you do something to your glasses to stop the rain fogging them up when we played Hufflepuff in that storm?” “Hermione did it,” said Harry. He pulled out his wand, tapped his glasses and said, “Impervius!”

(Order of the Phoenix, page 379)

In thus scene its raining during a Quidditch match and Angelina asks Harry about a spell he used a year before. Harry remembered that moment, remembered Hermione was actually the one who cast the spell, a spell he himself never cast before this moment, and he then casts it perfectly from memory.

Harry remembers the incantation and wand movement perfectly enough to succeed on his first try.

Actually, almost every time we see him cast spells he gets the wand movement and incantation right on the first try (even his first attempt at a patronus worked, the happy memory just wasn't strong enough)

In general, they moments we see Harry fail at casting spells on the first try is when he overthinks it and fails himself like that.

Harry stared at the letters in brackets. Nvbl . . . that had to mean “nonverbal.” Harry rather doubted he would be able to bring off this particular spell; he was still having difficulty with nonverbal spells, something Snape had been quick to comment on in every D.A.D.A. class. On the other hand, the Prince had proved a much more effective teacher than Snape so far. Pointing his wand at nothing in particular, he gave it an upward flick and said Levicorpus! inside his head. “Aaaaaaaargh!”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 239)

Harry tends to fail potions, and nonverbal spells when Snape is breathing down on him expecting him to fail, though, in this example, the moment Harry feels he can succeed the spell and isn't overthinking it, he casts it perfectly and nonverbally on the first attempt.

He is the same with potions:

Snape, meanwhile, seemed to have decided to act as though Harry were invisible. Harry was, of course, well used to this tactic, as it was one of Uncle Vernon’s favorites, and on the whole was grateful he had to suffer nothing worse. In fact, compared to what he usually had to endure from Snape in the way of taunts and snide remarks, he found the new approach something of an improvement and was pleased to find that when left well alone, he was able to concoct an Invigoration Draught quite easily. At the end of the lesson he scooped some of the potion into a flask, corked it, and took it up to Snape’s desk for marking, feeling that he might at last have scraped an E.

(Order of the Phoenix, page 660)

When Snape wasn't breathing down his neck and stressing him, even without the Half-Blood Prince's superior instructions, Harry is good at potions. He accomplishes the potion to a level of Exceeding Expectations easily. The problem is never his skill, memory, or talent; usually, it's stress, being stuck in his own head, or carelessness (did anyone diagnose him with ADHD?)

Another example of his eidetic memory in OOP:

“Well, you know, they do work well on non-magical wounds,” said Hermione fairly. “I suppose something in that snake’s venom dissolves them or something. . . . I wonder where the tearoom is?” “Fifth floor,” said Harry, remembering the sign over the Welcome Witch’s desk.

(Order of the Phoenix, page 508)

When Harry describes St. Mongos for the first time (about a week before the above scene) he reads a sign that describes what is located in each floor of the hospital.

A week later, without reading that sign again, Harry can recall where the tea room is since he has that sign he read once a week ago, memorized.

Harry is Sneaky

Harry is a proper sneaky slythein and actually has more cunning moments than some slytherins in the books. Here are a few examples I have from my notes:

“Should call Filch, I should, if something’s a-creeping around unseen.” Harry had a sudden idea. “Peeves,” he said, in a hoarse whisper, “the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible.” Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock.

(Philosopher's Stone, page 197)

Harry is a good liar and scared of Peeves like this in his first year.

“…He likes to keep in touch with me, though . . . keep up with my news . . . check if I’m happy. . . .” And, grinning broadly at the look of horror on Uncle Vernon’s face, Harry set off toward the station exit, Hedwig rattling along in front of him, for what looked like a much better summer than the last.

(Prisoner of Azkaban, page 435)

But their attitude had changed since they had found out that Harry had a dangerous murderer for a godfather — for Harry had conveniently forgotten to tell them that Sirius was innocent.

(Goblet of Fire, page 24)

Again, Harry lying and tricking the Dursleys so they won't hurt him. Leveling Sirius as a threat against them.

“Not unless you can answer my riddle. Answer on your first guess — I let you pass. Answer wrongly — I attack. Remain silent — I will let you walk away from me unscathed.”

[the riddle and Harry thinking through it]

“Spy . . . er . . . spy . . . er . . .” said Harry, pacing up and down. “A creature I wouldn’t want to kiss . . . a spider!” The sphinx smiled more broadly. She got up, stretched her front legs, and then moved aside for him to pass. “Thanks!” said Harry, and, amazed at his own brilliance, he dashed forward.

(Goblet of Fire, page 629)

I skipped the sphinx's riddle, now the riddle isn't a hard one, but still, Harry isn't stupid. But he thinks he is. He even tells himself during that scene:

Harry’s stomach slipped several notches. It was Hermione who was good at this sort of thing, not him. He weighed his chances. If the riddle was too hard, he could keep silent, get away from the sphinx unharmed, and try and find an alternative route to the center.

(Goblet of Fire, 629)

But it's just Harry and his low self-esteem. He solves the riddle quickly thinking aloud near the Sphinx and he does solve it, and is amazed by it because he doesn't think of himself as smart, even though he is.

Most of the riddles to the Ravenclaw common room are probably along this line of difficulty too. It just goes to show he isn't stupid.

“There,” she said, handing it to him. “Drink it before it gets cold, won’t you? Well, now, Mr. Potter . . . I thought we ought to have a little chat, after the distressing events of last night.” He said nothing. She settled herself back into her seat and waited. When several long moments had passed in silence, she said gaily, “You’re not drinking up!” He raised the cup to his lips and then, just as suddenly, lowered it. One of the horrible painted kittens behind Umbridge had great round blue eyes just like Mad-Eye Moody’s magical one, and it had just occurred to Harry what Mad-Eye would say if he ever heard that Harry had drunk anything offered by a known enemy. “What’s the matter?” said Umbridge, who was still watching him. “Do you want sugar?” “No,” said Harry. He raised the cup to his lips again and pretended to take a sip, though keeping his mouth tightly closed. Umbridge’s smile widened. “Good,” she whispered. “Very good. Now then . . .” She leaned forward a little. “Where is Albus Dumbledore?” “No idea,” said Harry promptly.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 630)

Harry is clever enough to recognize drinking anything Umbridge gives him is a bad idea, so he doesn't. And he does so without her realizing.

“even if you do cause a diversion, how is Harry supposed to talk to him?” “Umbridge’s office,” said Harry quietly. He had been thinking about it for a fortnight and could think of no alternative; Umbridge herself had told him that the only fire that was not being watched was her own. “Are — you — insane?” said Hermione in a hushed voice. Ron had lowered his leaflet on jobs in the cultivated fungus trade and was watching the conversation warily. “I don’t think so,” said Harry, shrugging. “And how are you going to get in there in the first place?” Harry was ready for this question. “Sirius’s knife,” he said. “Excuse me?” “Christmas before last Sirius gave me a knife that’ll open any lock,” said Harry. “So even if she’s bewitched the door so Alohomora won’t work, which I bet she has —”

(Order of the Phoenix, page 658)

Harry can and does strategies. He planned how to get into Umbeidge's office. He employed his friends and actually led them. Being a leader and a strategist — rules we see him grow more into later.

Harry’s mind was racing. The Death Eaters wanted this dusty spun-glass sphere. He had no interest in it. He just wanted to get them all out of this alive, make sure that none of his friends paid a terrible price for his stupidity . . . The woman stepped forward, away from her fellows, and pulled off her hood. Azkaban had hollowed Bellatrix Lestrange’s face, making it gaunt and skull-like, but it was alive with a feverish, fanatical glow. “You need more persuasion?” she said, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Very well — take the smallest one,” she ordered the Death Eaters beside her. “Let him watch while we torture the little girl. I’ll do it.” Harry felt the others close in around Ginny. He stepped sideways so that he was right in front of her, the prophecy held up to his chest. “You’ll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us,” he told Bellatrix. “I don’t think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he?” She did not move; she merely stared at him, the tip of her tongue moistening her thin mouth. “So,” said Harry, “what kind of prophecy are we talking about anyway?” He could not think what to do but to keep talking. Neville’s arm was pressed against his, and he could feel him shaking. He could feel one of the other’s quickened breath on the back of his head. He was hoping they were all thinking hard about ways to get out of this, because his mind was blank.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 783)

This is a bit of a long quote, but I really like it. Harry gets the Death Eaters at an impasse because they can't destroy the prophecy. Then, when they threatened Ginny, he changed tactics and got them talking to buy time.

And even when he says his mind is blank:

“What?” whispered Hermione more urgently behind him. “Can this be?” said Malfoy, sounding maliciously delighted; some of the Death Eaters were laughing again, and under cover of their laughter, Harry hissed to Hermione, moving his lips as little as possible, “Smash shelves —”

...

“NOW!” yelled Harry. Five different voices behind him bellowed “REDUCTO!” Five curses flew in five different directions and the shelves opposite them exploded as they hit. The towering structure swayed as a hundred glass spheres burst apart

(Order of the Phoenix, pages 785-786 and 787)

He's still the one coming up with plans and pulling them out of there.

And if we look at his grades:

(Half-Blood Prince, page 102)

He is very far from failing academically. Actually considering how little studying Harry actually does, he receives very high grades, even for Hogwarts' abysmal education standards. Harry is naturally smart enough and talented enough that with the bare minimum of effort, he can get almost exclusively Es (his failing being in History, an exam he didn't finish, and Divination, which Harry has only been thought bullshit in).

Makes me wish we saw him put in an active effort. I bet it all would've been Os with his memory.

Even Potions, which Harry is supposedly bad at, he got an E...

I just... Harry is just really smart and it kind of frustrates me how I don't see enough fics that treat Harry being clever and with a cunning streak as if it's canon, even though it very much is.

I don't know, maybe I'm just reading the wrong fics...

[ohtobeleah]

Give me masochist Logan or give me death /j

Logan is a pain whore. But let's break it down, shall we? (Sorry if this wasn't technically the smut you were after if that's what you were looking for. but this has been on my mind since you sent this in)

I think that Pain and Logan go hand in hand. He has regenerative capabilities that are on an uncharted level. He feels things…..and he feels things hard. Logan's tolerance to pain is sky-high, and I think most of that comes with the very idea that not a lot could really hurt him in a way he couldn't come back from. He carries all that physical pain as he slowly but surely grows older, and gets closer to the end of his days in the X-Men universe. Canon Logan, the best version of Logan, I'd even go as far as to argue that he welcomes the sweet release of death.

Physical pain can heal, Logan's DNA is built to literally regenerate after massive injuries. He's built to recover from physical injuries. That's his superpower, that's his thing. That's literally what he does!!

But there isn't a mutation on earth that could help with emotional pain. No matter how much physical pain Logan went or continues to go through, it would never amount to the level of EMOTIONAL pain he'd been through. And in this particular case, I think the Worst!Logan harbours an immense amount of emotional turmoil that he can't seem to escape.

I feel like Logan would be attracted to the idea of his partner being able to bring him some form of physical pain while being intimate together because it's a pain he isn't used to experiencing. Not all pain is bad pain, but the bad kind of pain is all Logan has ever known.

So when your nails dig into the muscles that adorn his back. When you sink your teeth into his neck or pull his hair until it nearly rips from his scalp....Logan goes feral for that feeling. It's a good hurt. A good pain only you have the power to give him. everyone else had the intention of hurting him. You just want him to feel every bit of emotion you have coursing through your veins. You just want Logan to understand how he makes you feel.

Just picture it. Riding Logan so expertly well that you have him babbling underneath you. He gets that cheeky "Is that all you got?" grin on his face when you glide your nails down his torso. But it's only when you slow your movements just as he's about to lose his mind in the feeling of your velvet walls, does he beg you to keep going and keep going hard. He likes to pain. He loves it because it's coming from you, someone he trusts to handle him like he's breakable, not invincible.

"Why do you like it when I get rough?" It's a question early on in your relationship (or whatever the hell you wanna call whatever the hell you and Logan were)

"Because you aren't trying to hurt me in a way I've been hurt my whole over-extended life," Logan explains as he lays in a tangled mess of sheets with you. "You want me to feel pleasure, you want me to feel things I haven't felt in a long fucking time."

To truly understand why Logan likes putting his cigars out on his palm or why his pleasure sensors light up when you scratch him hard enough to have him hissing, I think we need to understand that pain has always been INFLICTED on Logan..... Levels of pain he wasn't in control of.

But with you? He knows he's safe. He knows you wouldn't ever do anything to really hurt him. He trusts you. He loves you. He has control over the pain you're able to bring him when he needs it.

Ilya

[demaparbat-hp]

Hi Dema!! Your art is fantastic and even the lineart is awesome! Solid and confident in where it's thick and where thin. I really like how your style has characters look more realistic and they have specific consistent features. Your blog has a pleasant atmosphere, and you're skilled in weaving AUs! There's a lot of details and structure, and I'd like to ask if any of them have a full story arc? Could you do a list of all of the AUs? Is there a motif that you especially like that repeats in any of the AUs? And whenever you add comments to my stuff in the tags I literally smile, it makes me want to keep at my plan to create everything I have in mind. So I'd like to spread this joy! I hope you have a nice day! (from late-draft ^^)

Hello, Late-Draft! I wasn't expecting this ask at all but I'm so glad to have received it!

First of all—I'll try to hold myself back from giggling like a schoolgirl. I'm having a sempai noticed me moment over here and that's just embarrassing. So give me a second to compose myself, if that's alright?

Okay, I'm back.

Now, on to business.

Character design, especially when it comes to facial features and how they're unique to each person, has always been a passion of mine. I always try to have a solid design for each character. I choose which features feel like the character in question, which face feels natural to draw, and go along with it. I love drawing Katara as much as I love drawing Zuko. Meanwhile, I seem to be on a never-ending battle against Sokka's features. Woes of an artist, I suppose.

Character design is actually one of the reasons I love your work so much, in case you hadn't noticed. I'm currently experimenting a bit with a different style... Hopefully it won't be long before the artwork is done and I can share it over here. I'm so excited for everyone to see it!

Now it's time for the reason we're all here.

I have said it before and shall say it once more: AUs are my lifeblood.

I love them so much! Building them, daydreaming the scenes, thinking of the characters and how they differ from their canon versions. The arcs and the themes and the worldbuilding. Building AUs is my passion, and I have so many of them!

There are a lot of motifs and themes that tend to repeat themselves in several of my AUs, I believe.

You'll notice that most of my stories are Zuko-centric, with a heavy emphasis on grief and humanity. There's the question of what makes us human and how to move forward when the whole world seems to push you back. I put a lot of stock in metaphors and symbolism within the narrative itself. I'm especially interested in the nuance of war and how it affects people emotionally, physically, and psychologically

I also tend to reutilize some elements of the lore and/or worldbuilding! Such as the Painted Lady's backstory, or the existence of War Children within the ATLA universe.

Now, the list!

I think I'll start with my current project, if that's okay :)

For the Spirits (New Gods AU)

Zuko was a child when he met Agni. Then, the spirits started coming to him. Eyes hidden in the hallways, voices pleading for help, for recognition, for remembrance.

Zuko could see Agni. He could see the broken remains of a Great Spirit and the empty smiles of amnesiac ghosts.

And they could see him in return.

I've been working on this AU for a long time, but only now did I get the chance to start writing the fic (linked up there!). I'm extremely excited about FTS and where the story will lead us in the future, but I'll try not to spoil too much.

It's a Zuko-centric story, with a heavy emphasis on Spirits and humanity. I'd like to add a warning for depression/mental health issues.

To Hesitate (Lee & Kya AU)

As she watches Lee and Kya avoid each other's eyes from across the room, the phrase comes back to her, swift and silent:

"To hesitate is to lose."

.

As Song treats the victim of an unfortunate interaction with a rare poisonous flower, her day takes an unexpected turn when it becomes apparent that the old man's nephew and her assistant have history.

A vivid history.

The Lee & Kya AU is a vibe, a feeling. It's probably one of my oldest AUs out there as well as one of my dearest.

A classical Lee and Kya From The Tea Shop AU, full with wholesome fandom tropes such as: fake (but not really) dating, fake identities, Ba Sing Se shenanigans, vigilante stuff, White Lotus missions, Iroh is a great Uncle, Zuko is an awkward turtleduck, and, of course, the fluffiest fluff you'll ever see.

Other than that, Lee & Kya is probably one of the less plot-focused AUs I have. However, that doesn't mean that there aren't scenes I can't wait to write or a canon divergence or two where Zuko is concerned.

(I have another fic posted but I'll leave that one to the end. You asked for a full story arc and, oh boy, does Soundless deliver.)

Kintsugi AU

Closer to being canon-adjacent than canon-divergent, Kintsugi is yet another Zuko-centric AU (and are we not noticing a pattern over here?).

I'd love to explain it in depth, but I believe the caption of the artwork linked above does a better job at explaining than I ever will.

Kintsugi is the art of decorating your scars with pieces of Agni.

In the Fire Nation, the amount of golden marks are a sign of status. Only the Royal Family can afford to seal every single wound with Kintsugi. Such is the weight of this tradition that, among the ones with Agni's blood, it is the highest mark of dishonor to have a natural scar, for it proves you aren't worthy of the privilege.

After the Agni Kai, Ozai forbid Zuko's scar to be sealed with Kintsugi. The boy wasn't worth his title, his traditions or his pride. Zuko would be broken, but he wouldn't be beautiful. Not anymore.

(And sometimes it's easier to pretend he never was)

Kyoshi Warriors AU

One of my absolute favorites!

In this AU, Ursa took Zuko and Azula with her when she was banished, so they could start anew. With help from Iroh and the White Lotus, she managed to relocate her freshly burned eight-year-old child and her crying daughter to Kyoshi Island.

Years later, when Avatar Aang and his companions first arrive at Kyoshi Island, they're met by the Kyoshi Warriors and their leader, Noriko of pale skin and warm brown eyes.

The Gaang leave Kyoshi Island many weeks later with a new companion. And if Jian Li, with his war paint and his scar and his dual dao, gives the island that he has called home for so long one final, longing glance as they fly away on Appa, they pretend not to notice.

Hunters AU

We're starting to dwelve deep into dangerous waters!

This is a Katara Joins Zuko In His Quest To Find The Avatar AU, with a twist!

This AU was born as a writing experiment. What if we take Katara's character, and change one of her core characteristics? Katara, who looked up to the Avatar as a saviour figure, now blames him for leaving and allowing the Fire Nation to wage war on the world.

Then comes Zuko, a banished Prince with a crew full of traitors and his own agenda. Zuko wishes for nothing more than to dethrone his father and end the war. He is a White Lotus member, an honorable, driven young man, and he has a plan.

The catch? He needs to take the Avatar to his father if he wishes to regain his title and be able to rightfully take the throne. Oh, and he will deliver the Avatar to the Fire Lord—but nobody said it had to be in chains.

Halfblood AU

I watched Blue Eye Samurai a few months ago and it destroyed me. The idea of a half-blooded child dead set on getting revenge for their very existence stuck with me, and this AU was born.

Kanna made a life for herself in the Earth Kingdom after leaving the North. Katara was raised by her grandmother in a small village, being taught to hide her bending if she wanted to live peacefully in a place she was only half of. Her mother had died in childbirth. Her father, a nameless warrior from the Southern Water Tribe who had loved Kya and left her behind, didn't know of Katara's existence.

Katara took over Kanna's clinic after she passed away. Always taking care of others. Always suppressing her need to bend. Always wishing for more.

One day, he arrived. A half-child, just like her. But while she was of Water, he was a son of Agni. He was searching for the man who brought him to this world. The man who scarred him. The man whose face he couldn't recall, whose name he did not know. The man whose specter had chased his mother to her grave. The man who would die at his hand.

The answers were hidden in a small teashop deep within Ba Sing Se. Lee offered her a way out, and Katara took it.

Soundless (Uiscefhuaraithe)

Katara of the Southern Water Tribe has hands scarred by fire and great talent, though no teacher.

Zuko is a mute War Child, a herbalist and healer, and the Blue Spirit. He bears the mark of fire, and the scar of the blade that took away his voice.

The first time they met, the Blue Spirit had just saved her, tough not before her hands got burned. The second time they met, his name was Lee, and he was healing her.

They live in war and they will fight, if not for the world, then for themselves.

You asked for a full storyline, and I shall deliver!

Soundless is probably the only AU I have fully planned. Three-books, Azula redemption arc, role-reversals and all.

This AU has everything. From travelling through the Earth Kingdom together, to odd character team-ups that somehow manage to work, and a major goal/conflict to resolve.

Zuko and Katara must find their way to Omashu in an Earth Kingdom ravaged by war as they also grow to understand each other, themselves, and the world around them. They meet with new and old alliances, keep their ears open for rumors of the Avatar (They say he is an airbender, Lee. Do you truly belive that?), and do their best to always be two steps ahead of their pasts.

Meanwhile, both the Northern and Southern Water Tribes are searching for the runaway heiress, Aang must find his way alone on this new, hostile world, and Azula must face the revelation that, despite what her father has stated for the last two years (liar, he lied at her! Her! He lied he liedliedliedlied), her brother might just be alive.

I'm sorry for making this such a long answer! I just get very excited about these subjects and don't know when to stop. If you made it all the way down here: thank you again.

I hope you have a good day ❤️

[destinysbounty]

A lot of people wonder why Zane's sixth sense became less prominent over time, and a number of theories have been thrown around without the fandom ever really reaching a consensus on the matter. So allow me to throw even more gas on the fire by adding my own speculations into the mix!

Looking at the timeline, Zane's sixth sense began to decline shortly after being rebuilt. Of course he did still experience visions for a short while thereafter - the vision of the titanium dragon being an iconic example of this - but then his premonitions gradually became a scarcity over time, to such a point that Jay straight up didn't believe him when he had that vision in s11.

So why did that happen? To answer that question, we first need to talk about Pixal.

In the season 4 episode "Versus", Pixal states that she is fascinated by Zane's ability to dream, and has "always wondered what that's like." Implying that at this point in the series, she wasn't able to dream.

However, her dream sequence in season 11 "A Cold Goodbye" demonstrates that at some point between s4 and s11, she eventually developed the ability to do so.

(Side note: it makes a a little bit emo how Pixal used to think dreams were an amazing thing that she longed to experience - but when we finally see her doing so, she has a nightmare instead.)

Within the context of canon itself, Pixal's dream in this episode is the only instance throughout the series of a nindroid having a non-prophetic dream.

...or is it?

Let's take a closer look at that dream, shall we? Most importantly, the part where Zane slips from her grasp.

Pixal is holding onto him, but she loses her grip and he falls into some sort of vortex/tunnel of light and cloud. And yes, of course, my Pixane-loving heart is aching at the sight of this - but pay close attention to the appearance of the vortex itself.

Look familiar? No? I'll give you a clue.

Yeah, you're seeing that right. The vortex from Pixal's dream is uncannily similar to the Never Realm portal that opens up at the end of that same episode.

For those of you who haven't seen s11 in a while, allow me to clarify exactly why that's so remarkable: Pixal had this dream before they opened the portal, before they even knew Zane was actually alive. Somehow, within her dreams, Pixal managed to construct a replica of the Never Realm portal without even knowing it existed.

Like, really sit and think on that for a minute. Pixal had a dream in which Zane falls into a strange vortex that just so happens to look like the portal to the Never Realm. Y'know, the same portal Zane got blasted through just an episode prior. Without Pixal herself being aware that this had happened to him.

Do I think it's a coincidence that Pixal's dream just happened to represent Zane's true fate with an eerie level of accuracy - that he hadn't died, but instead been lost in a portal to another realm? You're certainly welcome to think so, but I sure don't.

So here's what I think happened: in season 4, Zane placed Pixal's neural drive into his processor. From that point on until season 7, they effectively shared a brain. Maybe the experience of sharing the same mind for such an extended period of time caused them to inadvertently...share Zane's sixth sense as well . Maybe it slowly began to split between them. Zane's ability would slowly decline over time as portions of it bled into Pixal - while Pixal slowly developed the ability to "dream", unaware of exactly what that ability entailed.

This would explain a number of things:

Why Zane's premonitions become much more scarce from s4 onward.

Why Pixal is suddenly able to have dreams in s11 when she wasn't able to before - and why that dream is so uncannily prophetic.

Why the Scroll reacted to Pixal. Given the fact that it didn't react to Kai, we can assume it doesn't do anything when someone without any kind of power holds it. which suggests that Pixal has some kind of power (be it prophetic or otherwise).

(Of course, that last point is dependent on the validity of certain interpretations of how spinjitzu, forbidden spinjitzu, and elemental power work within canon. And yes, you can rest assured I have theories for that too. But I'm still fine-tuning the kinks to that theory, so don't ask me to explain just yet.)

If this is true, I highly doubt anyone has realized that this premonition-sharing happened at all. Zane probably just assumes his decline in prophetic ability was caused by the spiritual damage he sustained in his fight with the Overlord (which is another viable theory), and Pixal simply assumes that her newfound ability to dream is a result of her developing humanity. Meanwhile the rest of the team is none the wiser.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

"Dark!Galadriel" needs to happen in "Rings of Power" Season 3

To make sense with the Tolkien canon they are building on. 

The “Rings of Power” show producers were inspired by the chapter “The Mirror of Galadriel” in the book “Fellowship of the Ring” (Part I of "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy) to create the show itself, and the connection between Galadriel and Sauron: him grouping her mind nonstop, her being able to look inside his mind, etc. 

In the book, this scene goes pretty much like in Peter Jackson movie: Galadriel shows Frodo her Mirror, he sees visions on the Mirror, they talk about Sauron, Frodo offers her the One ring, and Galadriel declines, passing “the test” at last, and getting the Valar’s pardon to be able to return to Valinor (she was banished). Peter Jackson left out the part where Samwise Gamgee was also there, and that Sauron was always grouping Galadriel’s mind.

Dark!Galadriel

Tolkien gave us a description of Galadriel “dark form” in this chapter (in that context, this is what would happen if she took the One ring):

[she] stood before Frodo seeming now tall beyond measurement, and beautiful beyond enduring, terrible and worshipful. 

I already explained how Peter Jackson took this up a notch on his adaptation.

"I Wanted What He Offered"

And now at last it comes. You will give me the Ring freely! In place of the Dark Lord you will set up a Queen. And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the earth. All shall love me and despair!

These are Halbrand/Repentant Mairon's words: this was his offer to Galadriel in 1x08.

I would make you a queen. Fair as the sea and the sun. Stronger than the foundations of the earth [...] No. Not dark. Not with you at my side. You told me once, that we were brought together for a purpose. This is it. You bind me to the light. And I bind you to power. Together, we can save this Middle-earth.

But this is not Dark!Galadriel, as many assume: this is Queen Galadriel with redeem Mairon, her king consort, by her side, and ruling over Middle-earth. There is no darkness in this vision.

Sauron himself confirms this was his (previous) intention, in 2x08:

I would have placed a crown upon your head. I would never have rested until all Middle-earth had been brought to its knees, to worship the light of its Queen.

Here’s the catch: if Galadriel is using Mairon’s words (1x08) and putting emphasis on “And I shall not be dark”... why is she taking on a “dark form” in the next minute?

Mind you, only Frodo is able to see this form, because he has the One ring; in the book, Sam is also there, but he cannot see it.  

Passing the Test

Here, the “test” Galadriel is talking about is her letting go of her power thirst, and resisting her desire to take the One ring for herself.

However, “Rings of Power” has built upon this canon, already, and had her desire for power and for Sauron to be one of the same. So: can her “passing the test” have another meaning, too? Can this imply she has failed “the test” before? 

We are already saw Galadriel rebelling against the Valar and refusing to return to Valinor (accepting their pardon) in Season 1 of “Rings of Power”, like Tolkien described. However, the show has yet to mention the little detail that she has been banished from ever returning to Valinor. In the lore, this is due to her pride, her rebellion against the Valar and her thirst for power (by refusing them, and staying on Middle-earth because she wanted her own kingdom and to rule).  

The Wound aka Blood Binding

I already talked about this several times: Here, here, and here.

Adar: Sooner or later he [Sauron] sees you… His eye bores a hole, and the rest of him slithers in. For a while he even lets you believe that his power is yours. Irresistible power… that makes every desire’s fulfillment seem inevitable. An ocean of color against which everything else feels forever thereafter… Adar and Galadriel discuss their ex, Sauron, 2x06

Sauron is there to bind himself to Galadriel, no matter what. In his mind, she belongs to him. He can feel her love for him (Halbrand): I see you. I know your mind. He knows that she wanted to accept his offer. And that's what he (the "sharer of gifts") gifts to her: Sauron’s gift to Galadriel is himself, by having them binding together. This was his twisted way of saying: “You are mine, and I’m yours. Now and forever.” 

She refuses until the bitter end, and says “the door is shut”. Then, Sauron kicks that door wide open by having them binding together (by blood) using Morgoth’s crown (who already has his own blood on it):

This is the scene that starts Sauron's “grouping” of Galadriel's mind for thousands of years to come (not her “closing the door” on him, like everyone thinks. Are you all for real? Are you aware of just of powerful Sauron truly is? You think her saying a few words can stop him?).

What Sauron did is irreversible, too. And that’s why she will have to find a way to “close the door” in the future (through magic, not mere words). Galadriel needs to become the powerful elf-witch we know her as, before she can close the door of her mind to Sauron.

We already saw a tease of this when he mind communicates with her, in the next scene:

The Fall of Galadriel

The OST of Sauron and Galadriel's scene in 2x08 is not “Last Temptation”, but “The Fall of Galadriel”. Which isn’t the soundtrack for her “falling down a cliff”! This is symbolic of Galadriel’s downfall into darkness. And this has to come into play in Season 3. 

Straight out of "Harry Potter"? The scar hurts whenever Sauron is nearby? “A part of him lives inside of you?” Probably, because J.K. Rowling took a lot of inspiration from “Lord of the Rings” to create her own story.  

And this will most likely kick out Galadriel “elf-witch” arc, too, because Sauron, probably, transferred some of his powers onto to her.

Season 3 and "Dark!Galadriel"

Galadriel using Mairon's words and a Dark form appearing in her future scene with Frodo, when she resists the One ring (at last), can mean that she will accept that Halbrand and Sauron are the same, and it was with Sauron himself that she fell in love with, in Season 1. Because this is the only way to make sense with both Tolkien lore and "Rings of Power" canon.

And if this was to happen in Season 3, it would be subtle and subtextual, of course: don’t except any love confessions or kissing. The "Fall of Galadriel" (her succumbing to Sauron) can be embodied in her reluctantly accepting the darkness within herself, because she feels she can longer escape it (wound side effects).

Galadriel needs to succumb to darkness/Sauron in order to emerge victorious as the “Lady of Light” (and for her character arc to feel earned) because: to find the light, we have, first, to touch the darkness.  

This quote has been present on Galadriel’s story since the Prologue of Season 1 (the opening scene of “Rings of Power”, and the one who sets the entire mood and kicks out the story that’s about to be told), and it hasn’t come into play, yet. Galadriel hasn’t touched the darkness: she has resisted the darkness in every turn, so far.  

Side note: Galadriel killing Orcs isn’t “touching the darkness”, folks. Otherwise, every single Elf in Tolkien lore would be on Morgoth's side.

Season 3 will be the "War of the Elves and Sauron", with him wanting to retrieve the Three Elven rings of power, and attacking Lindon. "Dark!Galadriel” can come into play in this scenario.

Of course, this will be temporary, because Galadriel won’t stay on “Dark!Galadriel” mode. If this is to happen, not sure if her “snapping out of it” will be Season 3 or Season 4, even. Because Gandalf (the only character that makes sense and has the power to do this) needs to be introduced to her arc in order for her to escape Sauron’s grasp.

[strawberrymochin]

I will be back soon~

Genre- fluff, angst...umm yeah whatever synopsis- kento's baby fever (sorry)

Kento Nanami having a baby fever was sort of unexpected. Ever since you had known him from his emo canon phase, till his enlightenment of every job in world being shitty, he's a person to get straight to the point. Speak his mind without any barriers of people's opinions.

when you first saw him, among the busy crowds of the station along with bunch of people in similar uniform like him, you chuckled a bit to yourself noting his golden bangs. He looked at you once with a glare as you drop your head down, embarrassed, trying not to make the fact that you were staring at him obvious.

You never saw him after that day of rush hour in 2006.

As time went by, this encounter of you with the sullen guy with blonde side swept bangs had dust fallen over till the memory of it blurred completely from your vision.

Up until 2016, where in a buisness trip back to Tokyo led you to a person, striking a sense of familiarity. 'The Emo Blondie' you recognised from ten years ago.

"Is something wrong, miss? You've been staring at me for past five minutes." He said maintaining a calm demeanor, as blood rushed to your cheeks, ears red burning with embarrassment. "Oh no, I'm fine.....I was ah kinda zoned out." You say blocking your face from his view with the flies you held in your hand.

Insignificant. The memory was totally insignificant— however the evocation came out vividly crisp. As if the picture of that past encounter was engraved in your mind and this meeting with him blew gust of wind, blowing off the dust accumulated over it.

He has always been straight to the point. As mentioned earlier, he even voiced out whenever you got flustered working with him; when he bends down to your desk, hands caging you from both sides as he uses one to show you what changes shall you make in the proposal; his breath would brush on the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine, "I think you should focus on the proposal, rather than shying away."

"Huh?"

He would simply walk away. And what annoyed you the most was his same neutral calm expression. Does his manner never falters? He drives you in such embarrassing situations that you would effing wish to die on that moment. Such a menace.

Better start to avoid him. That was your initial plan, which you put to use, ignoring nanami and cutting out any situation where you have to face each other; going for help to other employees rather than the one you're assisted to— 'kento nanami' ofcourse; refusing on lunch together with the group whenever he used to join; avoiding even to look at him.

You thought you were doing good. There were no more embarrassing situations, now that you keep your distance from the so called past emo guy. You were happy life was back in track again.

That night you were working overtime. Finishing it you strech yourself, gathering your bag to go back home, humming to a tune, walking up to the elevator.

The gate opened and your smile dropped. Inside standing was kento nanami— same expression. The air went awkward, tension rising, he kept staring at you with a frown.

"Are you getting in or not?"

"Ah— I am." You give in, actions suddenly involuntary. The doors closed. None of you spoke for a while, till his velvet voice broke the threads of stillness tangling around.

"Are you purposely ignoring me?" His voice sent shivers down your spine, as your eyes widen to look at him. Oh no— you're going red again. I mean how the fuck you're not supposed to, if he's leaning on the elevator walls, with that tight shirt, two buttons open from the collar with a loose tie looped around showing off his pretty collar bones.

"Wha— no" you blatantly lie.

"Lie," he comes closer, dangerously closer till your back touches the cold surface of the elevator, "you obviously seem to avoid my presence."

"Th— that's not the c-case. You see I ahh" your voice falls as his tongue swipes over his pursed lips. "Mhm? I see what?" You want to answer, but the words won't just come out throat.

"You know what I see? I see you having a crush on me which you are hesitant to act upon...." That's it you were done. You passed out of embarrassment. And the next thing you know, when you regain your consciousness is you laying on a bed with warm blankets draped upon, in an unknown bedroom, which you now recognise as your boyfriend's.

"Dating is shit," He said, "but we can try."

It's been two years now you're dating. Nanami started being a sorcerer again as it suited his tastes and you were happy you won't have to listen him venting "work is shit."

You held your pregnency test, hand shaking, as it showed two lines— positive. Nanami wanted a baby, though he never said it directly, but through these blissful years you have learned to pick up on his unspoken words.

You were not ready for a baby. You weren't even married yet. You still had a career, goals to fulfill. However, tears brimmed up your eyes, of unmatchable joy. You couldn't wait to see the look you on your boyfriend's face as you reveal it to him.

Will he be happy? You were nervous. But indeed there was no doubt he wouldn't. His face would creak up, eyes creasing as lips form a huge smile, grabbing your waist spinning you around with joy. Kissing you telling you're the most beautiful blessing to him.

You remember once he told you about his dream when you asked about it randomly. He said he wanted to settle somewhere in Malaysia, with you. So simple yet so beautiful. Maybe it's time to fulfill it. You and nanami, settling in Malaysia as a mini version of you both joins soon. Have a family.

You couldn't wait to see him in the evening near Shibuya as you had a date night with him after he finishes with something that got him engaged real quick. He kissed your forehead before leaving, "I will be back soon." He said inhaling your scent from the crook of your neck.

You hurried to Shibuya, making sure not to forget the pregnancy test with you— a bow wrapped around it. You chuckle being impatient to see his reaction.

Your eyes scanned around to spot the familiar blonde hair. You don't know why people seemed to be in a rush. Unable to find your boyfriend you tilt your head in confusion.

You stroll around trying to find him. The air smells weird, sort of metalic, like— blood. A unsettling feeling crossed your heart. The station seems oddly quite, you turn your head trying to spot people, till you step on something mushy— a hand. It was a human hand you stepped on.

You stumble back, wanting to scream. Blood is scattered everywhere with sliced dead bodies of people. Dread strikes you—"Please don't be here. Please don't be here. Please nanami." — and among the dead bodies you spot him, standing covered in bruises. Half body burnt as a guy had his hand on his back. A wicked smile on his face.

You stilled as nanami looked at you for a second then looking somewhere else. He didn't recognise you from far. It seemed like he's in a daze.

No— you can't just stand there. You have to go and tell him. Tell him that he's going to be a father. Tell him you guys will be shifting to malaysia. Living his dream life.

You take one step towards him, trying to voice out his name— but it's useless. You couldn't.

Your boyfriend's body burst into pieces— the one you cuddled with every night, his crimson red blood splattered everywhere, just infront of your eyes— and you could do nothing. Nothing but stand.

The guy behind him noticed you, smirking deviously, but decided to ignore and run after a pink haired guy as you fall on your knees.

You crawl upto the bloody mess, of your boyfriend. Tears fell down your face as you hand touches him— his blood— smearing it on your face. He looked beautiful— even when he was half burnt. His blood was the darkest shade of red you've ever seen.

Why does everything has to be like this? You didn't even get to tell him about his baby, growing in your womb. You didn't get to see him smile. You didn't get to start a family with him.

'I will be back soon.' He said before leaving.

"You lied." You manage to let out between sobs.

Years passed after that incident. Nanami left this world, but his baby joined it. Your son has the same hair as him, which you like to style in the emo hairstyle in which you first saw his dad.

You shifted to malaysia after that, protecting your son, the only reason for you to live— living namami's dream, which you made yours.

a/n- sorry | ごめん なさい

[neum6ns]

you guys wanted more, so you shall receive!! some of these r a little bit x reader bc how can i watch that perfect woman on my screen and not headcanon how she acts with her partner (especially after seeing the way she acts with sameer 🙃)

mkay one of my favourite headcanons is that this woman does NOT have a blood type (or her blood is EVERY type… idk how blood types work). my girl can give anyone a quick little at home blood transfusion!

i have to disappoint yall and say that none of the fan theory’s that vicky is still alive have convinced me. she was killed off from bad writing and i think we all need to slowly begin to accept that (unfortunately 😣). should she have been able to sense something was wrong the second butcher grabbed huggies shoulder? yes! should she have gone into defense mode since zoe was there and been on high alert anyway (especially because she didn’t 100% trust anyone other than hughie)? yes! we can even see in the background that victoria tells zoe to stand behind her, but alas she was still killed off 😒.

^ genuinely i think they had no idea what to do with victorias powers. she’s genuinely so overpowered and they dug themselves an even deeper hole by making her durability basically on-par with (or stronger than) translucents diamond skin.

on the episode where they are all on the farm (4x05) my girl should’ve been able to pop all of those stupid v-ed up animals and carried on with her day. but no, eric kripke again had no idea what to do with someone so powerful - the only thing she killed that episode was a chicken. a fucking chicken.

in this episode we really see just how well vicky is able to sense heartbeats and use her powers (contrary to tiktok fanboy beliefs) WITHOUT HER EYES!! ugh i love when the boys all slowly begin to realise their noses are bleeding and that vicky is there. this scene also shows that she knows who’s heartbeats are who’s, since she didn’t make stans nose bleed like she did everyone else’s!

okay back to the headcanons i got a little carried away there.

my favourite head canon is that when victoria got pregnant with zoe, she knew at the earliest point she could. she didn’t even need to take a pregnancy test. she could feel her body changing. i love that victorias powers are so connected to the human body - it’s such a huge contrast that she’s felt alone her whole life but to use her powers she needs someone else to use them!

^ (kinda to do with f!reader) also to do with pregnancy but she can change fertility and periods! she can definitely tell when someone’s period is coming, in my mind she can also help soothe cramps. she can increase (or decrease) fertility. using her powers like this are something that she strongly advises against and wouldn’t even do to herself. she thinks it’s wrong to interfere with the natural body (maybe she’ll give in at somepoint and ease your period cramps but she swears she’ll never do it again!)

i think i got a little carried away… these aren’t proofread so literally ignore if nothing makes sense HAHA. feel free to drop any vicky requests in my inbox!

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Twenty-Three

Pairing(s); LADS OT4 x reader

Word count; 3,420

Themes; isekai, slowburn (eventual smut), canon divergence

Warnings; swearing and eventual mature themes

Notes; Hey guys, finally done with Foreseer Zayne's story and back in the present with Sylus! But only for a moment before we're thrown right back into our mind palace to Lightseeker Xavier!

I'm gonna be completely honest, I already tried to post this once and Tumblr decided to say "fuck you" and eat my post, so I'm redoing all of this for a second time :( it's so upsetting, but i can't remember what all i said before so I hope this suffices. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

prev || next

☆ masterlist ☆

Cradled in Zayne’s arms, the woman lies still, her cold warmth lingering. The body he’s holding cannot be considered one that belongs to a mortal.

Under her clothes, blue lines manifest at an alarming rate. Astra warns the Foreseer in the form of an eerie indigo gleam from the Creatio Protocore on his scepter. The Foreseer is forbidden from peeking into his own destiny…or else Astra shall give unto him the sweetness of Death’s embrace.

Even so, the Foreseer must see the future of this woman whose fate is so deeply intertwined with his.

As he follows destiny’s golden thread, he unveils the truths hidden in enigmatic mist.

Along his long journey through the silky threads, Zayne notices that the ends are frayed and red…as if someone snipped a piece off…

He learns that he has met this woman time and time again. He always falls in love with her, becomes a witness to her changing fate, and then watches her die. There is never a good ending for her.

For Astra’s tools can never fall in love.

And so Astra manipulates his memories of her, plunging them into an incomprehensible mystery; a jasmine bud that never blooms and is just out of reach.

…You slowly open your eyes. Your arm moving up to shield your face from the moonlight coming in through the window of your darkened room.

Why…were you here? Weren’t you just with Zayne? What happened?

Before fainting, you recall a flash of indigo light and Zayne’s concerned expression…Did Zayne put you here? How long were you out?

You struggle as you get up to your feet. Your hand shakily grips the wooden bedpost to keep your balance. You felt so weak…You stagger out of your room in search of Zayne.

You hold a makeshift cane in your hand as you make your way through the entire Tower, looking for the man in question, but you couldn’t find him. He wasn’t seated on his throne…nor was he on the roof with the jasmine flower. Eventually, you find a hidden staircase behind his throne and you follow it to a wooden door at the very top. You can hear muffled noises from inside the room.

You put all your weight into opening the heavy door and once inside, your eyes widen. There was only one window, ice all across the room…It felt more blisteringly cold than the winter wonderland outside of the Tower. Chains hung from the ceiling and old pieces of iron were scattered across the room.

You finally notice Zayne shackled to the wall in the corner of the room.

This…was a prison.

From the walls to the floor, even the ceiling…the ice approaches hounding like a living, ravenous beast. Black as night, its glow is ominous.

“Zayne?” You try to rush over to him, lightly hopping over some of the moving ice. “What happened to you?”

With not a tinge of emotion, Zayne’s eyes are scarlet. His hand emits a white glow, and as he clenches it, the black ice suddenly elongates and stabs his body. His face was still as neutral as ever, but you hear a noise of pain from him and your brows tightly knit together. “Why are you hurting yourself?”

“Astra’s…punishment…”

Fuuck this dumb mother–

Okay, breathe.

As you examine Zayne’s body with your eyes, you realize his body is moving on its own. You recall seeing him bare, scarred body a little while ago…Were those scars also a result of his “self inflicted” injuries?

You tentatively take a few steps closer to Zayne, your body crouched low as if you were approaching a wild animal. His wrists were chained above him and his head was hung low.

His blue robes were torn in some spots and he had a spiked ice crystal nestled in his chest. His body was iced over- almost appearing to be freezer burnt.

“Zayne?” You step closer before kneeling before him. His breath was coming out in ragged grunts, and if this were any other situation, you might have been a little…excited, but he was in pain- this was no time to be sexually charged.

You needed to find a way to remove this ice from his chest or warm him up.

As you reach toward him, he finally lifts his head to look at you. His expression a mix of pain and concern. “...It’s too dangerous.” He speaks through gritted teeth. “I won’t be able to control…Leave. Now.”

But his actions contradict his words as one of his hands moves to cup your cheek. He jerks his hand back and closes his eyes.

You slowly reach your hand out to touch the frost across his cheek. “I cannot die. This agony I’ve experienced before.” Even as he tries to show you his strong side, you can hear the pain in his voice. His quick gasps with every word spoken.

“You being tortured is worse than death itself!” You pull your hand back, clenching it tightly into a fist as your eyes trail back down to the crystal lodged in Zayne’s chest. It gives off a faint white glow.

There has to be a way to remove it.

The ice pulses as if alive, frost spreading further across Zayne’s body. You sit down next to him and reach out to grab it, but he stops you. “I can’t stop the ice…You’ll get injured.”

But you can’t stop. You won’t stop.

It’s sweet that he’s worrying about you right now, but that is not a healthy mindset. If anyone is going to hurt, why can’t you both hurt together?

You take a deep breath and grab hold of the crystal. A sharp hiss slips from your clenched teeth as a chill bites into your palm.

The pointed edges of the ice dig into your hand, but you pay no mind to the pain as you feel the ice slowly dislodging from Zayne’s chest. The man lets out a pained shout as you finally pull the crystal free.

The area where the ice was is perfectly fine. There’s no ripped clothing nor gaping wound to be seen.

As Zayne collects himself, he grabs your arm in a tight grip as he gazes upon you with a worried expression. “Does it still hurt?” You quickly ask, momentarily stunned by his actions. Your hand throbbing in pain by your side.

“The ice will not relent…Leave this place. Please.” His voice becoming much softer as he practically begs you to leave him. But you can’t.

Not like this.

“We have to stop it. There’s got to be a way.” You shake your head, unwilling to just leave him here like this. With tears in your eyes, you wrap your arms around him and rest your head against his shoulder.

One of your hands gently cradles the back of his icy neck in an attempt to give your warmth to him. 

“Why didn’t you leave…Compared to the previous trespassers of the Tower…You truly are the most audacious.” 

The black ice has finally ceased its movements, but the prison is still freezing cold. You glance around the room and spot a key resting on the stone windowsill, just out of Zayne’s reach.

Once you get a hold of it, you unshackle his hand. Sorrow nips at your heart at the sight of his bloodied wrist and your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you attempt to hold back your tears.

“Zayne, I…” Your breath comes out in a foggy sigh. “I approached you so I could take the Creatio Protocore, but…” You squeeze your eyes shut, heart feeling heavy in your chest as you worried for his response. Your voice caught in your throat.

“I know.”

Your eyes open in surprise and a wayward tear streaks down your cheek. You open your mouth to speak, but Zayne continues with what he was going to say, “While you were unconscious, I divined your fate and the reason you visited the Tower.”

Your head tilts to the side in confusion. If he knows everything, then why…Why does he still care for you so?

“I…But why did He punish you?” Your hand grips at the man’s robes as you press your lips into a thin line. There’s no way…Did he…

Zayne’s gaze is calm.

“Our fates are intertwined on a red and golden thread.”

“...What?”

Red threads usually mean soulmates…right? So this would mean the original protagonist and, at least, Zayne are soulmates…and if they’re soulmates, then why are you even here?

“I bear the name of Foreseer. So, Astra punished me for defying my own fate.” After Zayne says this, you stay quiet. Your head resting against his shoulder as he held your hand, both palms stained with blood.

“Come then…We have one more place to be.”

The two of you finally stand. His footing is a bit steady, but you allow him to prop himself up on your shoulder as the two of you walk up the long and winded staircase leading to the top of the Tower.

The two of you stand atop the Tower once more.

Under the gentle moonlight, the jasmine wilts petal by petal. They fall to the ground like paper, ready to scatter to the wind. “How…It shouldn’t be wilting already..” You drop to your knees and pick up the fallen petals with trembling hands, fathomless sadness washing over you.

Your head turning toward Zayne as he speaks, “Before you were willing to defy Astra to free me…”

“I’ve made my choice,” You say firmly, your injured hand clenching into a painful fist. “I’m more relieved than scared.” You rise up to your feet to look him in the eyes. “I no longer fear the pain caused by my illness or my inevitable death. I also don’t need to be mired in indecision.”

“When?”

“When I saw you were being tortured in that prison? No…I’d say even before then.” The tiniest of smiles tugs at your lips before you shrug. Within Zayne’s placid gaze, a sliver of emotion escapes, flashing in his eyes. “You should have taken the Creatio Protocore.” He looks away from you.

“But you must tell me your answer.”

“...My answer?”

He’s just as confused as you were internally. You don’t recall asking him anything…

“Back in the illusion, you wanted to ensure you didn’t lose me again. So…are you certain now?” You ask as you tilt your head to the side, your thumb anxiously dragging across the wilted petals in your palm. Zayne is startled at first, but then he slowly smiles.

“I, too, made my choice back in that prison.” Light flashes in his hand and his scepter appears. “Your illness stems from your resonance with the Creatio Protocore. It is as if it’s connected to you somehow.” He moves the scepter, and the Creatio Protocore glows brightly when it touches your arm.

Then he takes the scepter, dragging it along your arm to your chest. “The Creatio Protocore grows stronger by draining away your very life.”

You can feel your strength fading away. Your heart struggles to keep beating, yet rather than being afraid, you are anxious.

“What are you doing?”

“This would be your fate after meeting me.” Zayne stares at you, a strange determination in his eyes. He lifts his hand, and the Creatio Protocore floats from his scepter to his palm.

“Zayne…” Your panicked gaze meets his and you shake your head. “I don’t want the Creatio Protocore anymore. Don’t—”

Light bursts from it, refulgent enough to illuminate all of the Tower. In Zayne’s hand, white light encapsulates the Creatio Protocore.

“The power of Astra can curse destiny itself. And it can be used to ruin His plans. The Protocore is connected to you, somehow, so think of it as it’s returning to its rightful owner.” The protocore’s light is contained in the crystalline sphere and he puts it against your chest.

The light dissipates into your heart. Power floods in, coursing through every part of your body.

“It's…so cold, Zayne!” You wince, your hand twitches and the wilted jasmine petals scatter from your palm before being uplifted by the wind. A warm light flows from Zayne’s hands into you, encouraging your weakened heart to beat once more. Frost starts to creep along Zayne’s face.

The Tower begins to shake, its foundation crumbling. Serpentine ice crystals emerge, lunging toward you both.

Zayne wraps his arms around you, his head resting atop your own as the light from his hands shields you from the ice.

“Why would you…I wasn’t going to live for much longer…” You had already given up on your fleeting life, instead preferring for Zayne to live but…You knew how this was going to end.

Accompanying a desperate resolve is a deep pain in Zayne’s eyes. “Your destiny is not written in stone…” Even though you have a limited view, you know that Zayne is being bombarded with frost, ice embedding itself in his back.

Though, the man doesn’t let out a single noise, refusing to acknowledge his pain; knowing you’ll try to stop him.

“Zayne!” Your panicked cry reaches his ears, but he shakes his head with a faint smile.

“I won’t forget you. Not this time.”

“No—”

The light gets brighter and brighter, surrounding you until all you can see is white. “Zayne! ….Zayne?” You squint your tear filled eyes, trying to find him through the light. Desperate to see him one last time.

For him not to leave you.

When the light finally fades, the ice, the Tower, and the Creatio Protocore are gone. Only a familiar figure stands before you.

“You’re hurt…!” You rush toward him and reach for his hand, but Zayne grabs yours instead. “The Creatio Protocore exists inside of you. Astra’s power is yours to wield. This place is bound to collapse. I’m here to bid you farewell.”

“If Astra’s power is my own then– then…I can keep you with me, right? Please, don’t leave me.” You quickly shake your head as the tears you so desperately tried to hold back fall. “I want to stay by your side.”

Zayne’s gaze softens and he looks content. Happy even.

“Don’t cry.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want to lose me again…” Your hands tremble as you wrap them around his waist, head buried in his cold chest.

“I will never lose you as long as you are alive and well. The riddle I’ve struggled with has an answer. At long last…I shall never forget you.” Zayne gently lifts your face from his chest, his thumbs wipe the tears from your cheek. “I wish to end it on my own terms. May I?” He slowly smiles and it’s like watching the first sprout break through melting snow.

You know that no matter what you say, this has always been his plan. If the two of you cannot be happy together, he’d rather die than have you suffer…

Zayne leans down and kisses you for the first…and last time.

Light washes over you akin to waves lapping the shore. You desperately try to reach out to him, a choked sob escapes from your lips, but he smiles and slips away like sand falling between your fingers.

“No– No!”

You fall to your knees, hands sinking into the grass and dirt as your fingers dig into the soil. “Zayne…” Your voice is small…broken. You barely even notice that the scenery around you has changed.

The unforgiving winter and snow-capped mountains were no more. In their place, a seemingly endless array of nature- or plant life. Grass and trees as far as the eye could see. Different species of flowers…

It was like the illusion inside of Philos: Floral Inquiry. 

Your dirt and blood stained hands cup around a lone jasmine bud as you dip your head down to place a small kiss against it. Then, you sit up to look around.

A field of jasmines…Jasmines in blossom with the sun shining down upon them.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

At the elderly woman’s question, more tears stream down your face.

No…You were not alright. Not at all.

Through your teary eyes, you spot a small sphere of white light and your bottom lip trembles.

“Please, promise me you won’t cry anymore.”

A scoff slips from your lips as you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. “Why should I listen to you? I’ll keep crying until I see you again.” Your fingertips twitch as you gain more and more control over them, and you look up at the sky with a smile.

“Which…I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you again very soon.”

You wake up on your own terms. The light from the sun almost blinding once you finally open your eyes. You lift your cheek from the back of Sylus’s leather jacket and yawn. You try to stretch your arms out, but that’s when you notice the man’s evol was wrapped tightly around your body.

“Sy, how long was I out?”

You were tired as hell, all things considered, but there’s no use being upset over it. Sure, your cheeks felt wet and crusty from tears, but you were done crying and freaking out– at least, for now. Maybe you’d allow yourself a panic attack once you were alone.

“Thirty minutes.” Sylus cuts the engine to his motorcycle as he parks at Meow’s cafe. “I thought we could get you a drink and something to eat before I drop you off. Does that sound alright, sweetie?” He releases you from his evol and steps off the motorcycle to hold out his hand. You run a hand down your face before graciously taking his hand, because you doubt you’d be able to walk straight.

You felt so weak and helpless. All of the emotions from your past dreams were really catching up to you. The mental exhaustion was carrying a heavy toll onto your body.

“That sounds great.” Your voice comes out a bit croaky, so you quickly clear your throat as you step into the cafe. “I’ll get a tea and a coffee cake.” Sylus pulls out your chair for you and ruffles your hair with a nod before he walks up to the counter to place your order. Once he does this, he comes back and sets down the number in front of you.

There’s a moment of silence between you both before you speak, “Did I say anything in my sleep this time?”

“No, but,” Sylus cuts himself off with a sigh, then grabs your wrist to pull your arm toward him. “What–”

“You have a cut here…” His fingertips trail down your bicep, along your arm until his palm is flat against yours, “...and here from seemingly nothing. I had to stop and patch you up. Then, your body felt cold as ice. I thought you died for a moment, Y/n.”

Was this the first time Sylus had ever said your name?

Either way, it’s not often that he says it, so it seems he was definitely worried about you.

“I’m sorry for worrying you…Seriously. I didn’t think my injuries would carry over.” Your hand rests over the bandages on your bicep and you frown.

You had so many questions…Like why do you have the necklace Rafayel gave you or how did your injury follow you back…but you’re snapped out of your thoughts when you hear the server call your order number.

You slap your hands on the table, determined to stay awake this time. So you can eat and not worry Sylus anymore.

“I’ll get it.” You flash him a smile, but when you look toward the cafe employee, you don’t recognize where you are.

There’s a beautiful blue sky, a white limestone building made with intricate detail, paned windows with metal designs, and an endless array of stairs and railings.

“Sweetie?”

You can faintly hear Sylus, but you don’t see him. You realize you said you were done panicking, but this was before…well, all of this.

You didn’t know if you were daydreaming or asleep, if you were just going crazy and seeing things…but then, you feel a headache pounding its way through your skull like a steel drum.

After hearing the Starhunters had returned from their space expedition, you rushed out of your dorm and sprinted down Astroscience Avenue to the Holy Sword of the Goddess statue. Students were huddled in small groups, listening to Vice Captain Jeremiah brag about his adventures.

Jeremiah?

Ohhh…So this was Xavier’s myth…

Here we go again.

If I'm honest, this was one of my favourite chapters so far! This and the upcoming chapters are some that I really enjoyed writing...

I hope you liked this one, and just remember that I do changes tiny bits of the lore (not much to make a difference so far–), but for example, whenever Zayne said "don't cry" or whatever, the original protagonist obviously wasn't like "???". She had a different reaction, but that's because she wasn't from the past or future like our current mc is. So it makes sense for their actions to differ every so often.

Taglist; @orphicmeliora , @yoongi-tunes , @mitzkooni , @hiqhkey , @tanspostsblog , @shypotatoes013-blog

[ala-baguette]

Could you tell us more about Kingsleys fondness and protectiveness of Harry. Love u to bits xxxx

What’s that?  A Kingsley Shacklebolt meta, you say?  Don’t mind if I do!

A relatively common and much-loved comment I get from some of my readers is that they never gave Kingsley much of a second thought before reading Knowing Where to Look.  Let’s change that, because I need company in over-thinking about random side characters.  Plus, I find Kingsley Shacklebolt so damn cool and other people should too!  For such a small character who is mostly just in the background throughout canon, I am always so impressed by the volumes of information one can glean from his tiny one sentence lines.  So, let’s start by looking at a few of these moments.

I’ll begin with the first time we meet him in Order of the Phoenix where he is part of the Advance Guard.  I remember just falling in love with Kingsley right from the first time I read this chapter at roughly 2am the night the book was released.  A few notable lines I present for consideration:

“‘Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus […]  He looks exactly like, James.’”

“‘A surprising number of people volunteered to come and get you,’ said Lupin as though he had read Harry’s mind; the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.”

“‘Remus says you’re a good flier,’ said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep voice.  ‘He’s excellent,’ said Lupin […]”

“Kingsley Shacklebolt and Sturgis Podmore were examining the microwave and Hestia Jones was laughing at a potato peeler […]”

“‘I’m just telling the boy the plan,’ growled Moody. ‘Our job’s to deliver him safely to headquarters, and if we die in the attempt—’   ‘No one’s going to die,’ said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep, calming voice.”

Information I infer from this first encounter:

Kingsley is highly trusted by Dumbledore and the rest of the Order despite having only been a member for a month or so.  (I’m fairly certain he was not in the Order during the first war.)

Kingsley knew James on a personal level.  He’s on a first-name basis, he remembers his appearance well, and Remus would have had no other reason to comment that Harry looked like him if he did not.

Kingsley is curious about Harry—likely in part secondary to Harry’s fame, but also, I suspect, on a more personal level (whether his apparent past relationship with James or his current one with Remus and Sirius).

Remus talks about Harry when Harry’s not around (I could probably write a whole meta on this sad and sweet observation, but I shall resist and stick to the topic at hand).  We’ll come back to this.

He’s pure-blood or at least was raised with minimal exposure to Muggle technology.

He’s calm and level-headed and not afraid to call out melodrama, though he’ll do so patiently, respectfully, and gently. 

We have several smaller encounters going forward in OotP that I also find telling:

“[Kingsley and Mr. Weasley] were talking to each other as though they hardly knew each other. […] ‘Here,’ said Kingsley brusquely to Mr. Weasley, shoving a sheaf of parchment into his hand, ‘I need as much information as possible on flying Muggle vehicles sighted in the last twelve months.  We’ve received information that Black might still be using his old motorcycle.’  Kinglsey tipped Harry an enormous wink and added, in a whisper, ‘Give him the magazine, he might find it interesting.’  Then he said in normal tones, ‘And don’t take too long, Weasley, the delay on that firelegs report held up our investigation for a month.’”

“‘Molly, I’ll be late, I’m covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner—'”

Harry caught the sound of his own name.  Kingsley Shacklebolt’s deep voice was audible even over the surrounding chatter.  ‘—why Dumbledore didn’t make Potter a prefect?” said Kingsley.  ‘He’ll have had his reasons,’ replied Lupin.  ‘But it would’ve shown confidence in him.  It’s what I’d’ve done,’ persisted Kingsley.  ‘’specially with the Daily Prophet having a go at him every few days…’

“Kingsley had run forward to continue Sirius’s duel with Bellatrix.”

“‘Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Remus Lupin were all at headquarters [with Sirius] when [Snape] made contact.’”

My take-aways:

Kingsley has a good poker-face and can act a part that is required of him.

Kingsley is kind and considerate.  He goes out of his way to send Sirius a copy of the Quibbler with an article featuring Sirius/Stubby Boardman, for no other reason than to make Sirius smile in a time when Sirius had precious little to smile about.  Kingsley, in other words, is a big ol’ sweetie.

Kingsley drops in for dinner and any little festivities that happen at headquarters or with the Weasleys a few times throughout the series and is clearly welcomed any time, even when not truly on Order business.  Along with this, I speculate he doesn’t have much by way of family or close personal connections outside of his friends at the Order.

Even when he has only just met Harry, Kingsley is already concerned for his feelings (not just his physical safety) when Dumbledore doesn’t make Harry a prefect.  He is observant enough to notice that Harry is out of sorts and disappointed, which no other character particularly seems to notice.  He’s already attuned to Harry’s moods even then.

Also from this same moment, we see that Kingsley is one of the few characters who doesn’t seem to entirely blindly assume everything Dumbledore does is best.  He doubts Dumbledore’s judgment when he doesn’t make Harry a prefect. What else might he doubt?

Kingsley is brave and loyal.  He jumps in to duel with the most ruthless Death Eater present who just killed his friend.  Later, he does it again with Voldemort who he believes has just killed Harry.

Moody, Tonks, Remus, Sirius, and Kingsley are often described together.  From their interactions, I see these five having a particular bond, beyond that of simply colleagues.  They’re friends. What do all of Kingsley’s friends have in common?  (1) They all have affection for Harry they show in one form or another throughout the series.  (2) They all die.  I’ll let that sit for a moment—we’ll come back to it.

Now we come to The Half Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows:

“‘I’m not getting rid of Kingsley Shacklebolt, if that’s what you’re suggesting!’ said the Prime Minister hotly.  ‘He’s highly efficient, gets through twice the work as the rest of them—’”

“‘All right,’ [Uncle Vernon] said, stopping in front of Harry yet again. ‘All right, let’s say, for the sake of argument, we accept this protection.  I still don’t see why we can’t have that Kingsley bloke.’  Harry managed not to roll his eyes, but with difficulty.  This question had also been addressed half a dozen times.  ‘As I’ve told you,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘Kingsley is protecting the Mug—I mean, your Prime Minister.’  ‘Exactly— he’s the best!’ said Uncle Vernon, pointing at the blank television screen.  The Dursleys had spotted Kingsley on the news, walking along discreetly behind the Muggle Prime Minister as he visited a hospital.  This, and the fact that Kingsley had mastered the knack of dressing like a Muggle, not to mention a certain reassuring something in his slow, deep voice, had caused the Dursleys to take to Kingsley in a way that they had certainly not done with any other wizard, although it was true that they had never seen him with his earring in.”

“‘Miss Granger with Kingsley, again by thestral—’ Hermione looked reassured as she answered Kingsley’s smile.

“Kingsley showed no pleasure at the sight of any of them.  Over Hermione’s shoulder, Harry saw him raise his wand and point it at Lupin’s chest.  ‘The last words Albus Dumbledore spoke to the pair of us?’  ‘Harry is the best hope we have.  Trust him,’ said Lupin calmly.  […] ‘All right, all right!’ said Kingsley, stowing his wand back beneath his cloak.  ‘But someone betrayed us!  They knew, they knew it was tonight!’   ‘So it seems,’ replied Lupin, ‘but apparently they did not realize that there would be seven Harrys.’  ‘Small comfort!’ snarled Kingsley.

“‘Now they’ve put a Taboo on [Voldemort’s name], anyone who says it is trackable—quick-and-easy way to find Order members!  They nearly got Kingsley—'  ‘You’re kidding?’  ‘Yeah, a bunch of Death Eaters cornered him, Bill said, but he fought his way out.  He’s on the run now, just like us.’

“‘I’d like to appeal to all our listeners to emulate their example, perhaps casting a protective charm over any Muggle dwellings in your street.  Many lives could be saved if such simple measures are taken.’  ‘And what would you say, Royal, to those listeners who reply that in these dangerous times, it should be Wizards first?’ asked Lee.  ‘I’d say that it’s one short step from Wizards first to Purebloods first, and then to Death Eaters,’ replied Kingsley.  ‘We’re all human, aren’t we?  Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.’

“[…] Kingsley had stepped forward on the raised platform to address those who had remained behind [to take part in the Battle of Hogwarts].  ‘We’ve only got half an hour until midnight, so we need to act fast!  A battle plan has been agreed between the teachers of Hogwarts and the Order of the Phoenix.’

“Voldemort was now dueling McGonagall, Slughorn, and Kingsley all at once.”

“One shivering second of silence, the shock of the moment suspended: and then the tumult broke around Harry as the screams and the cheers and the roars of the watchers rent the air.  The fierce new sun dazzled the windows as they thundered toward him, and the first to reach him were Ron and Hermione, and it was their arms that were wrapped around him, their incomprehensible shouts that deafened him.  Then Ginny, Neville, and Luna were there, and then all the Weasleys and Hagrid, and Kingsley and McGonagall and Flitwick and Sprout, and Harry could not hear a word that anyone was shouting, nor tell whose hands were seizing him, pulling him, trying to hug some part of him […]”

Observations:

Kingsley is likeable and has a skill for garnering trust.  Both the Prime Minister and Uncle Vernon trust him despite having a general dislike for wizard-kind.

Kingsley is clever and adaptable and a good actor.  We see fascination with a microwave in OotP suggesting he had minimal exposure to the Muggle world, but by DH, he is already able to play the part of a Muggle, dress like them, and conform to their society, something that the likes of Arthur Weasley, who has obsessively studied Muggles for years, never manages.  He even knows enough to take out his earing (which he otherwise always seems to wear) to better appeal to the Dursleys conservative views.

A small speculation to which we can never know an answer but… Given that he knew Harry was listening, is it possible Kingsley’s choice of security question for Remus was intentionally chosen to offer Harry a little assurance that they had faith in him?

Kingsley is constantly described as calm and cool throughout all sorts of strife in the series, be he is not entirely unflappable.  After the Battle of the Seven Potters, the man is visibly livid, and I love it!  At no other time do we see so many exclamation marks in his speech.  He has suddenly been forced to face the possibility that one of his friends betrayed them, and he is not okay!  Even after this speech, he is totally flustered: he laughs derisively at Hermione’s naivety in an uncharacteristically impatient way; he seems panicked when he hears Voldemort had gone after Harry directly; he’s pacing the yard in a way that reminds Harry of Uncle Vernon as they’re waiting for the others to come back; he nearly comes to blows when Arthur arrives and is trying to get past him to see George… Can someone just please give the man a hug?  (Obviously, this is a trait I’ve exploited in KwtL.  Betrayal by a friend is definitely a sore spot for him.) 

The Trio sees Kingsley as untouchable.  Hermione’s relieved to be paired with him when they leave the Dursley’s house (and to not have to ride a broom).  Harry’s shocked to hear of him in hiding in much the same way they are.  They’re thrilled when they hear him speaking on the radio.  They have unwavering awe and respect for Kingsley.

Again, I speculate that Kingsley doesn’t have a romantic partner or children.  When Kingsley goes on the run, there is no mention of family which would have been a big concern if he had one. 

Kingsley has a strong sense of morality and a drive to stand up for those weak and defenseless. Despite the fact that his blood status and that his family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight would likely allow him to simply sit out the war safely, he’s still in the midst of it, constantly fighting for the little guy.

Kingsley is a natural leader, but he really only takes up the mantel when he has to (ie, Dumbledore and Moody are dead and the Order is leaderless)

Just another reminder that Kingsley dueled Voldemort and he’s a badass.

Kingsley is one of the first to rush to Harry after he’s defeated Voldemort.  He’s listed among all the people who love Harry most.  (Shut up, I’m not crying, you’re crying.)

So we come to what is perhaps more your question, kind Anon. What is Harry and Kingsley’s relationship like post-war.  As you point out, I write him as having fondness and protectiveness for Harry right from the beginning of Knowing Where to Look, and I have had readers challenge me (kindly) that Harry and Kingsley really weren’t that close in canon. 

I’ll agree that Harry was not close with Kingsley, but I’m here to argue that that’s not entirely true the other way around.  I think there’s subtle hints that Kingsley was fond and protective of Harry in canon.  Whenever Kingsley knew Harry was in danger, he came running.  I don’t think that was just duty to the Order.  There’s a personal component there as well.

We know that at least Remus and likely Sirius spoke of Harry amongst other Order members.  Before he even met Harry, Kingsley would have heard about Harry in ways that most strangers would not have heard of him.  It’s almost certain he knew many of the details of Harry’s experience in the graveyard when Voldemort returned (most all Order members would have been briefed on this when the Order was reestablished). He had likely heard tales from Sirius and Remus of how Harry braved Dementors and werewolves and time travel to rescue Sirius.  Maybe even rumors of his exploits with the Chamber of Secrets and the Philosopher’s Stone which Remus may have picked up from other professors when he taught at Hogwarts.  Remus even spoke of Harry enough to have mentioned that he looked like James— something that would have had no bearing on the mission.  The point is, the people surrounding Kingsley loved Harry, and I think that affection would naturally have bled into him just from the types of stories they were likely to tell about him. 

Then, all those people who surrounded Kingsley and who loved Harry die.  I think it’s very natural that as his friends— who were all so committed to protecting Harry— all died one-by-one, Kingsley would have taken up that mantel and felt the need to protect him in their place.  Even if it wasn’t one hundred percent from his own personal affection at first, he would have felt this a duty he owed his departed friends who all died in the name of keeping Harry safe.  After Harry emerges from hiding, older and more independent than ever, I think it would have been challenging for Kingsley to accept that Harry is not that kid he needs to protect (hence his sometimes-unwelcome paternal instincts in KwtL).  Furthermore, given my theory that he is without family and especially after the loss of so many Order friends and colleagues, post-war Kingsley may have been a little starved for affection himself which may have encouraged him to reach out more to Harry as he struggled with the isolation of his position of power. 

In conclusion, Kingsley loves Harry, and no one can convince me otherwise.  He’s prepared to give up his career for him, and though Harry would be completely devastated to know it, he’s prepared to give up his life for him. 

(A few random and less-related but perhaps still interesting headcanons:  As I mentioned above, I doubt he is married or has children.  I headcanon him married to his job and decidedly single and generally fine with that (who knows, maybe even aroace?).  I know his age is never really stated or implied, but I headcanon him to be a few years older than the Mauraders.  His vibe in the books just says forty-something for some reason.  My completely unfounded headcanon is that the Shacklebolt and Potter Families were friends—Kingsley’s and James’s parents moved in the same social circles, throwing Kingsley and James together enough growing up to be friendly but not besties.  Friendly enough that he may have attended Lily and James’s wedding, for example, but not so friendly as to have followed him into the Order the first time around.  Again, these bits are purely my imagination and yes have no real importance to the story.)

Thanks for the Ask, Anon!  I clearly have thought way too much about this. I hope you enjoy the insights into how my brain builds on characterization as I’m writing some of these smaller side-characters. Love ya back!

[thedeathlysallows]

Is It Over Now? (11)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon

Summary: And maybe it was ego's swinging

Warnings: canon typical Targaryen incest. Developing Stockholm Syndrome, Aemma is becoming an unreliable narrator. Simp!Aemond appears again (not that he really ever leaves lol). Smut, fingering, religion kink, not sub!Aemond but he does beg a bit, oral (f!receiving)

(We've reached the Alys Rivers arc and it'll probably take a few chapters to settle. Also, we've shifted to this song for the second half of the story.)

Tag list: @callsignwidow

"You know how much I love you," Aemond whispers in your ear as the candles flicker out, plunging your bedchamber into darkness. His arms wrap around your waist and hold you in a vice grip against the hard edges of his body. "Enough with the punishment."

You can't help but scoff. "Punishment? Tell me, my dear husband, how are you the one being punished when I'm the one expected to sit back and watch my family be hunted into extinction?"

"I've apologized countless times for Lucerys."

"Yes, of course you have. All of you have, save for Aegon and that scheming snake of a man you call grandfather. All everyone does is apologize to me."

"What more do you need? What will end this?"

"Give me your other eye."

"What?"

Aemond looks at you, disbelief coloring his sharp features. You stare back, unblinking. Moments pass by in silence as the two of you take each other in. You aren't sure what exactly triggers it, but your lower lip quivers and tears spring to your eyes.

"I don't mean it. Not really. I don't know why I said it..." You choke out a sob and bury your face in his chest. Aemond's hand immediately goes to your hair as he comforts you.

He knew you didn't mean- you would never be so vicious- but the comment was still jarring nonetheless. Aemond knew you would never mean such a thing, but there's still a slight tremor in his hand as he pets you gently. He's worked so hard to get to this point, to have you in his arms, and he feels like he can see the end of it all before it's barely even begun.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me." The tears won't stop no matter how hard you try.

A small flicker of hope flickers in Aemond's chest. "Could you be pregnant?"

"It hasn't been long enough."

"It's been two months at this point. We've both been performing our duties-"

"How clinical." You look up at him wryly, feeling uncertain of his reaction to your outburst. You really hadn't meant to say that to him. You were just so angry and then so desperately sad when you realized how hurtful you'd been.

Aemond smiles down at you indulgently, tilting your chin to press your lips to his. "Shall I be more romantic then?"

Your stomach churns violently in direct competition with the heat growing between your thighs. You love Aemond- at least you think you do- but you also love your mother and brothers. There's a part of you still lost to mourning. You've heard nothing from anyone, locked away inside your ivory tower in the Keep, only allowed news from Aemond's mouth directly. (Or Aegon's when he sends Aemond off some place or another, but even that's becoming less frequent as Aegon becomes more and more obsessed with being King.)

"You? Romantic? Maybe if the Conqueror himself returned." The joke comes easily. Joking with Aemond has always been easy. You can do that. You can tell jokes and make him smile because you like his smile, and because it's safer to distract him than fuck him.

You still keep your master plan in the back of your mind: let all of them think they've tamed you until you can find a way back to your mother's side. When you came up with your plan you didn't anticipate it would become harder and harder to pretend with each passing day. You didn't anticipate actually loving Aemond, nor did you anticipate Aemond's love for you being real.

It's terrifying to feel your grip slowly loosening.

Aemond's voice calls you back from your thoughts while he gently rolls you under him. "I can be romantic if that's what you need. I'll be anything you need. Just let me in."

"Aemond-"

"Please, don't fight me anymore. Stop pushing me away. I adore you, why can't you see that?" His fingers dig in to the fabric of your nightgown, pulling and tugging until it's over your head, discarded on the floor by the unlit fire place. Your skin feels like it's on fire as his gaze travels over your body, hands following each curve and dip.

"So pretty," he whispers adoringly.

"Don't. Please."

Aemond's eye flickers up to yours. He still keeps the patch on, neither one of you fully ready to embrace the consequences of the past when the present is so precarious. You swallow thickly, unable to look away as his hand creeps up to your breast. His fingers toy with the soft buds there, teasing your nipples until you're almost sore. A soft whine escapes you and you see Aemond's face darken.

"Don't what?" He finally says. "Don't worship you as the goddess you are?"

Aemond bends his head to kiss just under your breasts, reveling in the feel of your soft stomach as he drags his lips lower. If you were burning before, you're positively on fire now, desperate for whatever Aemond will do next. He reaches your thighs with a moan, nipping at the delicate skin there.

"Let me die on your altar," he says. "I'll do it happily, over and over."

Your fingertips thread through his silky hair and you pull his face to your cunt. Aemond breathes out a small laugh that sends a puff of warm air over your sensitive pussy. He wastes no time, diving between your folds like a starving man. His tongue is absolutely sinful as he licks you, working a magic you never would've expected from him.

"Aemond, yes, right there." You moan out the words, knowing how much he loves the praise. And you're more than happy to give it as his long fingers enter you, pumping in time with each lick he gives your clit.

"Tell me you love me," Aemond demands while he keeps thrusting and curling his fingers inside your cunt. "Tell me you're mine."

You nod, his words not fully registering, but you repeat them anyway. "I'm y-yours... l-love you... so much."

"Mmm, such a good girl. You've always been so, so good, haven't you?" Aemond's fingers brush against that most sensitive spot inside you and you arch your back off the bed, screaming his name like a litany of prayers over and over.

"Look at you. Haven't even put my cock in you and your already coming." He pulls you into a lazy kiss, all tongue and teeth and you don't mind at all. "I've always believed you're the Maiden come to save me."

Aemond buries his face in your neck, nipping and biting, leaving marks you know the whole court will see. "Will you save me? Absolve my sins?"

You sigh, fingernails digging into his back as you hook your legs over his waist. "Aemond...please, please, please."

"Forgive me, Maiden." Aemond pants the words into your ear, his hips jerking when your warm cunt drags across his cock. "Forgive me so I can worship you properly, please."

You nod, desperate to feel him inside you. "I forgive you."

With a heady sigh he sinks into you, his cock stretching you out in the most exquisite way. You see stars behind your eye lids as he begins fucking you, pounding his cock deep inside your cunt. He's ruthless and desperate in his movements as he watches you come undone beneath him, the very image of Heaven.

"I love you," Aemond moans. "Ah, fuck, I love you..."

You whine desperately, completely at his mercy as he cums inside you and fills your cunt. You have the brief thought that maybe this time you are pregnant, but Aemond is there before you can pursue the thought further. He brushes the hair from your face and kisses your nose before laying down beside you and pulling you close.

"Aegon is sending me to Harrenhal in the morning. I asked to take you with me, but the Council convinced him it would be a mistake. I promise I'll return as soon as I'm able."

"Harrenhal..." You can see Harwin Strong's face in your mind's eye, so similar to that of your brothers'...

Aemond strokes your face worriedly. "Please don't lock yourself in this room while I'm gone."

But you can't promise anything.

[enby-jellyfish]

Once Upon A Dream

Part of the Baldur's Gate 3 Fairytale AU Collection

Sleeping Beauty!Astarion X GN!Prince Phillip!Reader (POC friendly)

Pronouns: You/Your, They/Them

Summary: Astarion gets a second curse after accidentally upsetting Cazador, however shall he get out of this one?

Warnings: Canon typical abuse/torture, minor character death, crying, graphic depiction of violence.

Word Count: 2952

A/N: Don't mind me, just giving Astarion some more angst :) (don't worry, it has a happy ending)

Once upon a time there was a young elf who, after a terrible incident where he was assaulted and almost killed by a gang of Gur, was turned into a vampire by the self-proclaimed ‘master of all evil’, the Vampire Lord, Cazador Szarr.

After his turning, Astarion was forced into servitude and the only interactions he was allowed besides with his master was when he was made to seduce and lure unknowing people back to the Szarr palace for his master to feed on while he was made to make do with dead rats and bugs.

If Astarion were to disobey in any way there would be a harsh punishment; beatings, starvation, cutting, isolation. The isolation was the worst.

One night when Astarion was on his way to fetch another poor unfortunate soul for his master he got almost run over by the horse drawn cart of an old woman, falling and ripping his doublet in the process.

The old woman had profusely apologised as she helped him up, insisting for him to come with her to her cottage not far up the dirt road so she could fix up his torn clothes. Astarion tried to refuse at first, fearing what his master would do to him if he didn’t manage to bring someone back, but eventually caved, agreeing to go with her if she would be quick.

The old woman had been overjoyed, practically dragging him onto her cart and prattling away about how it has been so long since her children had come to visit, how she misses spoiling them, and how she recently became a grandmother.

When they arrive at her quaint cottage, she sits him down in a far too soft armchair and puts on a kettle before grabbing a basket with various dyed wools, comparing the colours to the one of Astarion’s doublet whilst continuing to make conversation with him.

When she finds the closest match, the kettle starts whistling and she pours two cups of tea, handing one to Astarion and keeping one for herself as she sits by an old spinning wheel and gets to work.

Astarion doesn’t drink the tea, he can’t consume anything but blood since his turning, but still feels a sense of comfort from the warmth of the cup. Listening to the old woman talk isn’t that bad either.

The warmth of the cup mixed with the smell of the tea, the soft chair, and the sound of the old lady’s voice and the soft creaking of the spinning wheel puts him in an almost hypnotic state of calm. He hasn’t felt like this in years.

After spinning enough thread, she asks for his doublet and expertly mends the tear. When she is done it’s like it was never torn to begin with.

When Astarion ‘finishes’ his tea, he poured it in a plant when she wasn’t looking, she waves him off, telling him to come by any time.

Astarion continues what he was let out of the palace for, the kind spinster in the back of his mind.

After that night he stopped by the cottage every time he was on his way to town, the old spinster welcoming him with open arms and a hot cup of tea waiting for him.

Unfortunately, Astarion should have known he was not meant to have good things.

Cazador had become suspicious at his spawn’s increasing change in character, he had become more calm, less jittery, and decided to follow him, not at all liking what he saw.

The next time Astarion visited the cottage it lacked the familiar warmth it usually had, a cold chill running down his spine when he entered. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t my pathetic excuse of a spawn. So, this is what you have been doing while you should have been doing what I sent you out for.”

Astarion feels sick to his stomach, fighting every instinct in his body to turn around and face his master instead of running away. It’s not like he could go far anyway.

“Master, I-” He tries to explain. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. You broke the rules Astarion.” Cazador tuts like he is scolding a child. “Although, maybe your new friend here would like to hear an apology, you are the cause of her impending death after all.” He roughly pulls out the old spinster from behind him. “Go on.”

Astarion takes a shaky breath. “I- I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen.” Tears start rolling down his face. “Oh, hush child. I know, and I forgive you.” She is crying too now. “I am sorry too, one day you will receive all the love and kindness you deserve, Astarion. I promise.”

Cazador interrupts them with a sound of disgust. “What a sickening display, that’s enough out of you.” He grabs the spinster by the sides of her head and with one swift movement jerks her head to the side, breaking her neck with a sickening crack.

A pained noise escapes Astarion’s mouth, a cross between a sob and a gasp, his hand quickly coming up in an attempt to prevent more noise from coming out. Tears are streaming down his face when Cazador harshly grabs it, stepping over the dead body of the spinster.

“Now, what to do with you, hmm?” Cazador looks around the room, his gaze landing on the spinning wheel in the corner. “The isolation always had the biggest effect on you, hadn’t it? A month in the dungeon should suffice. But what about future offences?”

He walked over to where his staff stood propped up against a wall. “If you break the rules again,” The staff begins exuding a lime green light, the air growing thick with magic. “, you shall prick your finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and fall into a dreamless sleep, never to awaken, trapped within the darkness of your own mind.”

Astarion falls to his knees. “NO, please master I beg of you, have mercy!” Cazador scoffs. “Mercy?” He pretends to think about it. “Fine, I’ll be merciful, you have been bringing me my prey as I ordered, despite your… escapades.” Cazador inhales sharply. “All right, I’ll give you a chance to break your curse.”

The staff brightens again. “Your curse shall be broken by receiving a true love’s kiss.” The light fades and Cazador grabs Astarion’s face again, smiling down at him. “As if you could find anyone that will be able to love you.”

Astarion spends the following month in the dungeon. His cell is small, cold, and moist. He feels utterly and absolutely alone. That is, until he falls asleep. Ever since that unfortunate night he has been having a strange dream.

He is dressed in formal clothes, dancing on the clouds with someone. He can never remember anything about this person when he wakes up, except the overwhelming feeling of love he has for this person.

Every day, it's the same dream, and every night, it's the same nightmare.

The dream continues when Astarion is let out of the dungeon. Part of him is happy it stayed; the dream provides him with the only comfort he has in his forced servitude. Another part is upset, because the dream reminds him that this will always be what it is, a dream.

Years later, Astarion is on his usual way to town, practicing his memorised lines as he walks. Lost in thought he suddenly gets pushed into the ditch. “HEY, watch where y-”

“I AM SO SORRY, I don’t know what got into him, are you hurt?” Astarion looks up, rubbing his head, squinting as he watches his, apparently unwilling, assailant jump off their horse, rushing to his aid.

You pull him up. “Are you hurt?” You repeat, looking the stranger in his ruby eyes.

Huh, there’s something familiar about him.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, lost in each other’s beauty while trying to figure out if you’ve met before.

Astarion breaks the silence. “Uh, no, I’m fine.” You are confused for a second before remembering your question. “Oh, right. That’s good.” You reluctantly let his cold hands go. “Say, how about you let me buy you a drink?” The question spills from your lips before you can stop it.

He has an odd look in his eye. Was that too forward? “Uh, to make up for my horse pushing you down!” Astarion takes in your question. On the inside he’s panicking. Who is this person? Why does he feel this way? Pull. Yourself. Together!

“And what makes you think I would accept a drink from a stranger? For all I know you could be a murderer, waiting for a moment of weakness before you strike.” The words come out just as he had practiced, smooth, flirtatious. He regains some of his confidence, only for it to be completely shattered again by the laugh you let out. “Oh, but we aren’t strangers!”

“Aren’t we?” Astarion is sure you’ve never met before, he would have remembered, yet he can’t shake that familiar feeling. “No, we’ve met before, once upon a dream.” It’s corny for sure, calling him the man of your dreams. But he is, isn’t he? You’ve had that same dream since you can remember.

Astarion is stunned. No, they can’t be- but maybe? “Right, how could I forget.” He lets out a nervous chuckle, deciding to just surrender to the moment. “I’ll allow you to buy me a drink, but I want to know your name first.” You smile and tell him your name; he repeats it before telling you his.

With that the two of you go off to find a tavern. You spend the whole night talking, drinking, and dancing. It’s almost too good to be true.

Astarion wants this night to last forever, but alas. The sun is coming up soon. He had to get going if he didn’t want to get burned.

“Same time tomorrow?” He smiles at you. “I’ll see you in my dreams before then, darling.” He kisses your hands and departs for the palace.

When Astarion enters the palace, he is met with an eery humming sound coming from above. In a daze, he follows the noise up several flights of stairs, to a room in a tower he’s never been before.

The room is empty, except for a spinning wheel, seemingly spinning on its own. Astarion feels an uncontrollable need to touch it. The humming is almost deafening as he gets closer, reaching out his hand.

With a hiss Astarion pricks his finger on the spindle and immediately feels woozy. Tearing his sluggish gaze from the bead of blood on his finger, he notices a dark figure standing in the doorway before everything goes dark.

Astarion doesn’t show up the next night, or the one after that. Your dreams have also stopped. Whispers have started circulating throughout town about a cursed palace. It’s not much to go on but considering it all happened at the same time you take it as a clue.

You start asking around, learning that the palace belongs to the feared Vampire Lord, Cazador Szarr, and that he hasn’t been seen since the supposed curse. With that information you take off, with your trusty steed, strong armour, and a sharpened sword, ready for anything you might find.

The first thing you notice is the plant life. What once must have been beautiful roses have overgrown the palace, its thorns digging into the stone, making sure nothing can get in, or out. You hop off your horse, unsheathe your sword and start cutting away at the thick stems. With some effort you manage to clear an entrance and enter the palace.

“Either you are incredibly stupid to try and break into a cursed Vampire Lord’s palace, or that snivelling worm actually succeeded in making someone fall in love with him, which would also not make you the brightest.” Startled you turn to face who you assume to be Cazador. “You’re talking about Astarion.” You grip your sword a little tighter.

He laughs manically at you. “Look at you, his knight in shining armour! I’m almost rooting for you, almost. But to truly win me over you’ll need to defeat the dragon first, of course.” You don’t like where this is going. “Dragon?”

He laughs again, his eyes now glowing a lime green. His voice starts sounding distorted, deeper than it was. His bones start shifting and he begins to grow.

You sheath your sword and take off, not needing to see what is happening to know he is turning himself into a dragon.

The ground shakes beneath your feet as Cazador follows you, letting out a growl and flapping his giant wings.

You find yourself in a ballroom, catching your breath you quickly formulate a plan. The tall room has several pillars holding up the ceiling, a staircase ascending to a balcony that overlooks the room, intricate banners hanging from the balustrade. You can make do with that.

With that thought, Cazador bursts through the entrance, taking down the door and part of the wall with him. Quickly you run for a pillar, managing to hide behind it right when Cazador sends a burst of fire your way, the flames just barely missing you. You try and slow your breathing, waiting for his next move.

Impatient with his now giant body, Cazador smashes his tail through the pillar, forcing you to start running for the stairs. You almost make it until a giant clumsy claw scratches at your arm, ripping off the armour. You scream in pain and stumble to escape up the stairs, just barely missing the next fire burst from Cazador’s mouth. You make your way to the balustrade and pry off a banner, grasping the heavy fabric close to your chest.

Your lungs are burning, beads of sweat are rolling down your face, and your arm hurts like hell, blood dripping down the limb, mixing with your sweat. Shakily you stand, facing the dragon.

You throw the banner at Cazador’s face before he can blast more fire at you, forcing him to stop and swat away the fabric so he can see, but he isn’t quick enough. You use the balustrade as a step, jumping to the dragon’s face, unsheathing your sword in the process and stabbing the dragon through its shout.

The both of you go down, you roll away with your sword as soon as you hit the ground. You shakily get up, watching Cazador starting to shrink, clawing at his face. He may not be dead, but he’s definitely incapacitated for a bit. Good enough.

You sheath your sword and rush back to the now destroyed entrance, running through hallways and up stairs until you finally find what you came here to find.

The tower is almost empty, a wooden coffin sits nailed shut in the middle. You use your sword as leverage to break open the coffin. Inside lays Astarion, cold, not moving, not breathing.

You are too late.

Tears roll down your cheeks as you cup his face. “I’m sorry.” You whisper tearfully before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

You stay there for a moment, your forehead pressed against his, until you feel his chest start to rise and fall. Confused you press your hand to his chest, feeling the steady thumping of a heartbeat. You watch stunned as his eyelashes begin to flutter and he opens his eyes. No longer are they ruby, but sapphire instead.

You mutter his name in disbelief. He looks at you with a dazed expression his hand coming up to hold yours. He feels warm.

Astarion slowly sits up, running his tongue over his teeth before looking at you in shock. “You’ve broken both of my curses?” You laugh nervously. “What can I say, I’ve always been an overachiever.” He laughs too, squeezing your hand.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here. You’ve been here long enough” You pull him up and the two of you stumble down the tower, almost exiting the palace before you hear a gargling sound.

You turn and are met with the sight of Cazador, back in his usual form, crawling towards you on the floor, his face covered in blood. The viscous liquid dripping down his neck and onto his expensive shirt.

Astarion looks from his former master to you, a mix of rage and grief thundering behind his eyes. You unsheathe your sword for the final time, extending the weapon to Astarion. “You can do with him as you please.”

Astarion takes your sword and stalks over to the bloodied vampire on the ground. He grabs Cazador by the hair, turning him over to face him before stabbing. Astarion drops the vampire and uses two hands to drive the sword through his former master again, and again, and again. Eventually he stops, Cazador long dead, dropping the sword as he lets out a tortured scream. Astarion is sobbing now and covered in blood.

Carefully you move to kneel next to him. The second you put your hand on him he flings himself at you, crying into your shoulder as he releases the grief over all those years of torture and abuse.

Eventually he calms down and you both get up, exhausted as you leave the palace. You help him on your horse, who miraculously stayed through all that, and start riding back to town.

You stop only briefly to watch the sunrise, Astarion closing his eyes and basking in the sunshine, knowing that the two of you will now be able to continue to live happily ever after.

The end.

Masterlist

Tag list: @glitterandgoldfinds

Thank you for reading <3

[pastorfutureletthembe]

Down into the VORTEX: the Curve Theory

I mentioned the Curve theory in a meta before but I wanted to dive even deeper into the fuckery of it.

I'll remind you what I call a Curve so you're all up to speed (cf: Rick and Morty):

The curve basically walls off the infinite number of universes, in which INSERT CANONICAL NODE happens, from the rest of the infinite multiverse. A model often used to explain is that the definition of a Finite Curve has no set parameters; it's just wholly random and infinite therefore can be represented as a repeating, immeasurable shape modeled with a circle. A Finite Curve would then present a finite collection of dimensions.

How is it relevant to Link Click? Well, I'm glad you asked.

I argued in the past that cakes on promotional artworks could represent curves and each curve would have hypothetically 12 repeats to offer. This is a conclusion I came to after my treasure hunt for the 5th timeline (for which I keep finding daily proofs of, by the way).

For the sake of understanding exactly how it can apply to Link Click lore, let me walk you through the basis.

Rick&Morty season 6 // Link Click BREAK! PV Note: I'm using this analogy because it is the most accurate way to bring you where I want.

By the way, we kinda already saw what resembles a curve according to the LCverse

BREAK!

If you count the circles, you'll find that five different rings turn around Saturn in BREAK! PV.

This being established, since the purpose of a Curve is to put a set of timelines sharing the same parameters together, I will argue the LINK here is a canonical unchangeable node. You guessed it:

Cheng Xiaoshi's death.

But honeslty, I don't believe that CXS is supposed to die in every possible universe - and for the sake of the argument, let's assume he isn't.

Actually, when we see flashes of him dying in LG's arms, my first thought was the first one to change the timeline and die doing it was probably CXS; that's why LG freaked out when his friend took a shot for Qiao Ling.

But let's review LG's side of everything first, shall we?

LG used up 4 pictures to save his friend

LG's ultimate goal is to save Cheng Xiaoshi's life and he failed four times. Death is supposed to be an unchangeable node and LG knows that by trying to keep it from happening, he will destroy time itself. Does he care? (/rethorical)

We know little about his previous dives, except that either he never made it this far or Li Tianchen and Li Tianxi weren't part of the timelines he knew. And, CXS died in his arms at some point, giving him access to his Back In Time power, alike what happened between Li Tianxi and Qiao Ling.

Here are some theories about them though:

If the Live Action reveals itself to be canon, it could be the Prime Timeline for Lu Guang. (We'll know for sure by the end of the month, I guess.)

In the Manhua, LG is protective and affectionate around CXS, in a very melancolic way. I'm not kidding, he's so soft it hurts.

The Daily Life in Lightime happens in another timeline and we can actually point out the moment Lu Guang dives in.

This time around, LG went and met CXS earlier than in the original timeline. (//Live Action)

It could be a coincidence that Lu Guang's character is more and more bored as we go through these examples. Keep an open mind here.

Lu Guang from the LCLA has dark hair but the promotional poster show one photograph of him with white hair. Why? There are so many jokes on LG's age in the donghua but mostly: he is so frail and remains in a sitting position if he can help it. Just like in Dive Back In Time, where he's the only one not standing. The man is exhausted. I'm just saying, perhaps his white hair isn't supposed to be white and the fact we see him with dark hair only in LCLA, played by a man of flesh, could be THE clue hidden in plain sight that this version is the original.

Note: I purposefully didn't include the musical here. The repetition of the media itself is quite interesting. Every performance is unique but the script itself is the same. It could very well be a curve on its own. Just a idea, nothing consistent.

What tells us LG isn't at his first dive is the music! Now, I won't go too deep into it because I really want to craft ONE post about this particular topic. Dive Back in Time and VORTEX are the most obvious because most of us probably never skip the intro, aaaand we get it: they are doomed by the narrative.

So yeah, this is basically why I call those "chances":

Overthink

3 more to go

Qiao Ling's birthday // Dive Back In Time

If you pay attention to the titlescreen, you'll notice free spaces in the center of the circle. By the end of the opening, one is filled, hinting that this picture has been used.

There are other winks on the number 3:

Cause I'm about to lose my- Cause I'm about to lose my- Cause I'm about to lose my mind >> Dive Back in Time When my friend are holding hands, heading into abyss I ran my lungs out so I wouldn't have missed But I missed, I missed, I missed >> Keep in Mind So what's that sound sound sound Spinning all night long long long Temperature goes down down down Got my mind feelin' drown drown drown >> The Tides

Let's assume that there are three chances left at the begining of the show. We still don't know when the inner monologue at the end of season 2 happens on the timeline, but LG mentioned his "last chance" to save CXS. The synopsis for Yingdu Chapter announced CXS died, as if it was common knowlegde (I love them for their audacity).

Are those the three last chances? To be continued.

The One True Curve

All these timelines happened inside the same Curve. Now, why do I think there ARE other curves to begin with when we already had to work so hard to get this far?

The camera isn't the same depending on who, Lu Guang or Cheng Xiaoshi, is taking the picture. The reflection changing is a way to show alternative timelines, which is different from repeats. It is a common visual clue, FOX used this technique to promote their show FRINGE for example (2 different universes crashing into each other).

There are some visuals with several clocks (I'll make a post per PV one day eventually). The first one shows a lot of different broken clocks and two merged ones as the biggest, central. This is our current curve. Our three protagonists and the antagonists are fighting over it; Light against the Shadows, as bilibili's accounts often dub the artworks. This could be our time paradox. On the second screenshot, the word LEAVE is over distorded clocks, fracturing space. Also a hint on several other realities, which have probably been left behind.

Train Trail // XETROVerthink

About that, the Vortex concept can be associated with a way to travel from one curve to another. Lots of science-fiction tvshows use this tool (Star Gate or SLIDERS).

The general idea is that, in the center of another curve the unchangeable node is different: Cheng Xiaoshi is the one trying to save Lu Guang's life.

There is of course, another explanation, just as valid as the Curve Theory: they are repeating this cycle of saving their friend over and over again. Once they run out of repeats, they die and the other go back in time to save them, completely unaware of the repeats; turning the hourglass over once again. The biggest clue for this one is... Well, the hourglass, for obvious reasons.

Link Click BREAK! PV // XETROVerthink

In XETROVerthink, we have LG appearing in the hourglass, probably in a bad shape, drowning perhaps, and CXS is swimming to him to save him; it's his turn. They are both unaware of their predicament.

By the end of BREAK! CXS's hair also turns white. It implies that he, too, went through many repeats to change their fate.

~

That's all folks! Of course I'm not close to other theories. I find the Curve Theory pretty cool. I would like to see them fight to actually get out of this canonical node, and find a place for themselves when they live their best idiots life.

I also have many additional thoughts about all of it: (Edit: you can find the meta here)

Some character presentations also hint at more than five repeats. Five repeats would be the current score for Lu Guang but Cheng Xiaoshi would have a higher number.

Some PVs enlight V for Lu Guang but X for Cheng Xiaoshi.

Some promotional posters or even VORTEX show LG and CXS as each other's reflection, as if separated by glass or water.

I'll will post more about it but 'nough said for now haha

[egophiliac]

please i would like to know more knitting headcanons if you have them. i love the most wholesome cozy headcanons out there

this got SO away from me, I'm so sorry, it started as "here is some needlework-related headcanon" and then I just lost my entire mind and it turned into "here are Scenarios about characters doing crafts". I…wasn't kidding about dedicating large amounts of time thinking about characters making things out of yarn.

it's not quite a fanfic but, uhhh, take it about as seriously as you take my comics, I guess. :') we're all just having fun here!

the closest Grim has gotten to knitting is the time he ate half a skein of yarn because it "looked spicy". (that was not a fun day for Yuu or the Ramshackle bathroom.) the ghosts, meanwhile, have canonically have made clothes for Yuu and Grim and, honestly, they're probably their own little knitting club (and Yuu's self-appointed eccentric granduncles). you know they're loving having an actual person to play dress-up make things for. we shall be well-prepared for any more impromptu Tsunotarou snowstorms.

Riddle, Trey, and Jamil all know the basics of sewing, but don't do any needling beyond mending/darning/general upkeep. they're all annoyingly practical. (Najma is also annoyingly practical, but she's more fashion-forward about it than Jamil. she's probably really into visible mending.)

Ruggie and Epel probably do know how to knit, in addition to those basics, but to them it's more of a utilitarian thing (need a new warm hat for the winter!) than something they do for fun. on that note, I think Epel wouldn't really have a complex about knitting -- partly because it IS a practical skill to have for those Harveston winters, and partly because he would have learned from Marja, and no one would dare imply Marja is anything less than absolutely badass.

meanwhile Ruggie is over here gleefully unravelling Leona's old sweaters so he can make himself a cashmere hat. it'sfreeyarn.jpg

Jack crochets little cozies and accessories for his cactus. he makes seasonal and holiday-themed versions with cute little sewn-on buttons and, you know what, now I need to draw event outfits for a cactus. hold on.

Deuce's mom definitely knits. he might've learned the basics from her when he was little, but never used them until recently, when he's been trying to pick it back up in order to make her a gift. (there's probably a heartwarming story in there about a special scarf or something that she made him that he's trying to replicate for her.) he's been at it for literally months now because he keeps screwing up his math and Riddle has to help him fix it.

Ace doesn't do any needlecraft, and razzed Deuce about it for a while until he found out the reason he was so Determined is because it's for his mom (and also the heartwarming story about the special scarf or whatever). so then he felt kind of guilty, and since he'd rather die than admit it, resolved to just never mention it again. except Deuce is so hilariously inept that not making fun of him is really, really hard. so Ace is just sitting there having a personal crisis every time Deuce whips out his needles and adorable little yarn basket. his life is so difficult. :(

Cater bought an amigurumi kit once when they were The Thing on Magicam. he made a few hedgehogs, took pictures, then gave them away to his friends and hasn't thought about them since. (Riddle was so moved by the gift that he forgot to yell at the first-years for a whole day. his hedgehog has a place of honor on his desk.)

Leona has never touched a needle in his life, and would be insulted if you implied he might enjoy expending a small amount of energy over anything he doesn't have to.

Kalim has touched a needle, once, when he tried to help mend something. he was so atrocious at it that Jamil forbade him from ever touching one again. if he started knitting it would probably give Jamil heart problems.

Azul strikes me as being someone who always has to be doing something. but he also doesn't like the inefficiency of spending so much time and effort without much return (personal satisfaction doesn't count). so I think he doesn't really do any crafting outside of whatever's necessary for whatever bit he's running at the moment…though maybe there's a tasteful stitched sampler or two hanging on a wall in Mostro. just because.

Jade is a little more crafty (ho ho, puns) outside of Schemes. by which I mean he exclusively makes mushroom-related decor and insists on hanging it up in Mostro. (Azul keeps asking him to stop. Jade pretends not to hear.)

Floyd once knit most of a densely-cabled fisherman's sweater in half a day. he got within 200 stitches of finishing before he got bored and never got back to it.

Vil probably, like…spent a week making a pair of cute mitts or something, and was really proud of them! then Neige made the mistake of getting super excited and trying to bond over it, and inadvertently soured Vil on knitting forever.

Rook I genuinely believe is both capable of doing everything, and also actively involved in using those skills at any given time. he could make an offhand remark about how he's been needlefelting tiny petals to stitch together into an elaborate rose-themed bodysuit and I would just be like "yep, that tracks."

he could also mention that he just put the finishing touches on the statue of Neige made out of hair that he keeps in the Hey Arnold-style shrine in his closet, and I would still be like "yep, that tracks".

I don't think Idia knits, but he might have bit of theoretical interest in it because of the relationship between knitting and binary? he probably spent a while trying to figure out if he could somehow make a playable version of Doom on a sweater. (it's magic, so yes. he doesn't want to actually have to make the sweater though.)

Ortho once made a hat and some mittens for Idia. it might be cold when they finally go to the park. :)

Malleus has a tapestry that's been his quick breather project for the last 400 years. he was vexed when he ran out of a color that hasn't been produced since the plant the dye came from went extinct a century ago. >:( the new flosses just aren't the same.

Sebek has tried embroidery in order to feel closer to ~wakasama~ but he doesn't have the patience for it. he's trying, though! his daisies are barely lazy at all these days! (he would probably actually be really good at knitting, since a lot of it is just…following instructions and doing math. since his main point of reference right now is Lilia, he hasn't figured this out.)

Lilia knits poorly and with much gusto. gauge? never heard of her. tension? this is supposed to be a relaxing hobby! it's unclear if he knows how bad he is, or if he's deliberately trying to see how embarrassing he can get before the others stop wearing the things he makes them. (they never will.) either way, he's having fun!

Silver was a self-sufficient little homestead boy by the time he was twelve, so of course he knows all the fun things you can do with wool (fortunately he learned how to knit before Lilia had a chance to ruin him) (idk, a friendly squirrel taught him or something, he's a literal disney princess his life is like that). he has a unique talent for being able to sit there asleep and somehow still spin perfectly consistent yarn.

look, I just want Silver to use a spinning wheel, c'mon

Neige and Silver both make tiny sweaters for orphaned baby animals. Neige's are more skilled (they have colorwork and little seed buttons) but Silver's are softer, since they're made from the wool that his forest bunny friends gather for him and donate to the cause. (Ace heard him mention this once and had to go have another personal crisis over it.)

this also ties into another absolutely unfounded headcanon I have about Silver and Neige being friends with the same bluebird family that alternates island sides for breakfast and dinner. there isn't any more to it, I just think it'd be cute. 🐦

orphan baby animals aside, Neige absolutely 1000% knits and you'll never convince me otherwise. he made that sweater. he made Snick's scarf. if you spend too long around him he'll have already started making you a cardigan in your favorite color. the dwarves don't knit because they don't have to. (wait, no, Timmy probably does -- you never actually see him do it, but every once in a while there's a new aggressively cute potholder added to the collection. Toby has tried, but he is physically incapable of not dropping stitches everywhere and ending up with a sad little pile of yarn.)

Che'nya says he does yarn sculpture, but really he's just batting the yarn balls around and leaving them for someone else to clean up.

Rollo does enormous cross-stitch recreations of illuminated manuscripts on 60-count linen (over one, of course). he will lecture you for two hours on how much he does not enjoy doing it and how that makes him better than you.

Mickey doesn't (I SAID EVERYONE). I'm sure his girlfriend knits though.

Crowley enters stitching competitions at the local fair. his depictions of handsome-looking ravens in top hats do better than you'd think, but he still keeps losing to goddamn Ambrose with his perfect backs and railroaded stitches and no hoop marks and…

resisting the urge to say that Crewel does crewel. failing.

…okay, but look, he does fashion design in canon, it MAKES SENSE --

Trein is a Good Cat Owner, so (after carefully researching durable and pet-safe materials) he crochets little mice with catnip inside. he gets a deep sense of satisfaction at seeing them get torn to shreds. :)

Sam doesn't partake himself, but he does have weirdly intricate knowledge of every potential needlecrafting technique and the associated tools -- which he just so happens to have in stock now!

like Rook, I do believe that Sam just…knows everything, through his "friends" or otherwise. he could start spouting details about the historic production of goldwork thread, and as long as he then offers to sell something to us while shouting gratuitous English, it would feel perfectly in-character.

you wouldn't think Vargas would be into crafting, but he did spend a week painstakingly painting antlers onto a hoodie for his deer cosplay. magic? pah! he didn't get these muscles by NOT smearing craft-store fabric paint everywhere BY HAND.

(this is also why Crewel agreed to wear the…thing…that Vargas made for his turn at being camp monster. he actually spent time and effort on it and the whole idea was giving Crewel his own personal crisis.)

this got so far away from me, I am so, so sorry