#// SHES SO PRETTY Y'ALL...............................

[gb-patch]

Hi from GB's new community manager, Claire!

Helloooooo GB Patch community!

I am so over the moon to introduce myself to y'all. My name is Claire (she/her) and I am the new Community Manager for GB Patch Games! Since getting hired, I've been playing through Our Life, poking around the socials, and getting ready to meet all of you.

A little bit about me: In my last position, I was a Community Manager for Pixelberry Studios' mobile game, Choices: Stories You Play. I adore video games as a whole, and have played them my whole life! A few of my favorites are: Life Is Strange, Spiritfarer, The Last of Us, Ace Attorney, Undertale, and pretty much any tearjerker with cute music and a cuter love interest (green hair doesn't hurt, either)! You can usually find me with my rescue pets, watching documentaries and reality tv, listening to pop and emo music, and hanging out with my partner, Sarah.

A little about the job: Community is so important to me. A studio's community is an inside look into the health of their game — are people loving it? Do they have complaints? What are their suggestions? All of it needs to be heard. I love being a CM because it allows me to be both a hype woman and a problem solver at the same time.

So, what's next? You're going to see more posts, behind the scenes content, and events from GB Patch, as well as speedy communication, answers to your questions, and a listening ear. For now, feel free to leave a reply or send me a direct message with any questions you may have, or simply to say hi! 🙂 You can also email me at our brand new community email address: community@gbpatchgames.com.

I can't wait to get to know you all, and am so honored to be brought into this community. Thanks so much for having me.

More soon!

Claire

[aliyahwritings]

TCH!READER ON THE INTERNET.

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player!Rafe & Model!Female Reader

*This is during the seventh chapter + if you see mistakes then don't mind em, i'll fix it tomorrow.*

coupleofnews

liked by rafesquerie, sza and others

coupleofnews Rafe Cameron Engaged to Model Y/N Y/L/N: A Surprise Announcement

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username01 YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME???

username02 I DONT KNOW IF I SHOULD CHEER CRY BC MY MAN IS OFFICIALLY TAKEN

username03 IM CONVULSING ON THE FLOOR AS WE FUCKING SPEAK

username04 @/username03 SAME BFF SAME

sza Congratulations to the cutest 🩷🎉 I wish you two the best. It's so good to see such a powerful, beautiful, talented and sweet WOC cuff a white man. Rooting for y'all 🧸🫢

username05 @/sza MOM GET OUT OF IG AND RELEASE THAT ALBUM

username06 anybody think it's weird 🤯

username07 @/username06 No your right. It's too soon. I'm sure she forced him

coupleofnews @/username07 You're** if you wanna drag someone at least do it right

username08 it's not even be a month since they've been tgt and they alr getting married?? bitch me too

username09 i know damn well they've been tgt for a while

username10 @/username09 exactly 👍 cause ain't no way YN would get married so easily

username11 does YN and Rafe know this?

coupleofnews @/username11 Your ass is about to know something else

username12 @/coupleofnews PLEASE 😭 COP don't play abt her infos

yn_updates coupleofnews js know that if ure lying ... 🪓

coupleofnews @/yn_updates NO HO IM SO SERIOUS ABOUT THIS!!!!

username13 @/coupleofnews how did you even get that info

coupleofnews @/username13 Someone in YN's entourage said it to me

username14 @/coupleofnews W H A T

ynmodelz

liked by rafecameron, jacobelordi and others

ynmodelz Gagged?

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username01 MAMA U SO FCKING FINE

username02 face so crazy i might switch lanes

username03 how are you pretty funny kind and perfect

username04 aren't you at a event rn

ynmodelz @/username04 ... okay stalker ☝️

username05 the way she's bagging every pretty white men on this earth

username06 @/username05 rafe, elordi, mescal, chalamet and that one sexy ex

aishapatel girl kissing right now in my bed

username07 @/aishapatel AISHA YN REVIVAL OMG LIFE IS SO GOOD

ynmodelz @/aishapatel breakup with your husband first ☹️

jjmaybank @/ynmodelz every time i catch on instagram you're gay-ing

username04 IM BACK AND YOURE GETTING MARRIED?????

username08 I NEVER DOUBTED U YN!!! I KNEW U COULD CUFF RAFE UP

username09 u must be a magician of some kind to cuff RAFE CAMERON

arianagrande congrats to you lovie ☁️💞✨

sza So happy for you! Wishing you the best

kiaracarrera face card so insane i want you right now

bellahadid Ohmygod YN ❤️ I miss you and congrats on the engagement ❤️

username10 @/bellahadid missing the days where yn and bella would vlog their day before a runway 😭

username11 she must have forced him. why did he pick a brown girl

username12 @/username11 He wanted to be woke for sure

username13 @/username11 how could he pick her when chiara is right in front of him

aishapatel @/username13 so pathetic i started laughing at yall

tyla Invite me to the wedding please sister 🤍

username14 every time i see her she's getting skinnier and smaller

username15 GIRL UR NOT GONNA BELIEVE WHAT I HEARD

username15 SOMEONE SNITCHED ON U

yn_updates

liked by rihanna, topper and others

yn_updates THEY ARE GETTING MARRIED OMG IM LITERALLY FREAKING OUT OMG OMG OMG

view all comments ...

username01 NOBODY LOVES THEM LIKE I DO

username02 the first pic represents them so well

username03 @/username02 i love how she's always rolling her eyes at him

username02 @/username03 and he eats that shit up for breakfast

username04 the way he kept his hands on her ALL NIGHT is pretty insane

username05 i love when pretty people are in relationships

username06 Im so obsessed with them

username07 HE MET AISHA!!! OH ITS SO SERIOUS YALL! THEYRE HAVING BABIES

username08 @/username07 what do u mean?

username09 @/username08 Aisha used to meet YN's bfs all the time until she stopped.... it's been years and now she's meeting him.

username10 @/username08 she also said on live that she wasn't going to meet and be friendly w any of them if she didn't see a future between yn and the person

username11 he's a bad boyfriend. he's not checking on her

username02 @/username11 huh?

username11 @/username02 she's clearly suffering and he's not doing anything

topper YN Cameron... I can't believe it 😳

username12 NOW WHO SNITCHED

username13 @/username12 what if i said chiara?

username14 @/username13 but how would she even know

username07 @/username14 she's white and pretty... that tells you everything

username15 and i just know she makes him giggle and kick his feet

username16 and I just know YN sends him 1000 memes

username09 and I just know they make playlist and pinterest boards about themselves (YN's idea)

username17 and i js know that when they argue they use Aisha to communicate "Rafe asking if you're okay"

username18 oh and i know she stops him from doing smth stupid every time with a "babe, no" and then he pouts 🥺🥺

[bokettochild]

Little Soldier Boy, Come Marching Home

I apparently had some Uncle Aflon brainrot (could y'all tell?) and it spawned this monster!

Not sure if I'm actually going to make a story about this, I mean a proper one, but this refused to let my brain rest until I wrote at least this much, so I figured I'd share it for the folks who kept sending me Aflon asks :)

(Yes I am very aware that the title is from a song, I'd recommend listening to the Reinaeiry cover on YouTube, because it's also rotted my brain since I listened to it and I think it suits Aflon and Legend quite well T-T)

-

  The first time he held Link, it was standing on the edge of the wood, away from the eyes of all the kingdom and under a veil of darkness. The forest chattered and whispered behind him, bringing to mind whispers of thieving Kolkiri and fae, and it had made him hold the babe in his arms all the tighter. 

  His sister-in-law was watching him closely, hands hovering, wary, like she didn’t trust him to hold the child quite right, ready every second to take the positively tiny bundle back from him and tuck that red and fitful face back against her own breast, hushing and cooing softly herself as she’d been when he’d arrived there. She didn’t though, although whether that was due to his own skill or some sort of restraint from the woman, he wasn’t certain. 

  “What’s the little ‘us name then?” He’d asked, pushing down the swaddling of rough fabric, far too rough for so small a thing, but lined carefully with far finer where no eyes could see. The child within trembled, cold air drawing a wavering wail from a tiny mouth. There wasn’t much to see anyways, he was a baby, same as anyone had ever had. Far smaller than Aflon had ever seen before though; so small he almost could hold him in one hand alone, but by all other means the tiny creature wasn’t much to look at. 

  Despite that though, Loretta’s dark gaze hadn’t lifted once from the infant, usually stern features awash with pure adoration as one trailing hand lifted the blanket back up to shield the babe once more. “Link.” 

  “Like the hero?” The dead one? 

  “Like the star,” her hands lingered so close to the face of her child, and in answer, the tiny one stilled, quieting as though some spell was laid over him. “Like the boy who brought hope to dark countries when Hyrule was at her worst.” 

  “Sir Raven’s squire.” 

  She’d nodded. “The same.” 

  And the child was just, well, a child; a tiny wee thing that felt so fragile to hands accustomed to the sword, and Aflon had shaken his head with a sigh, turning to Loretta with the question that had plagued him since he’d been given his riding orders this morning with the command to meet her here. “Why me?” 

  Those had been the words to make her draw back, pain welling up behind dark violet eyes that avoided his own. “There’s no one else I can ask.” 

  “He’s your son.” 

  “Which is the same as a sentence of death,” she’d hissed, tone harsh as her blade, “you know as well as I how Hyrule sees its crown. You took a vow the same as any other knight.” 

  He had. 

  “That child,” her child, “stands no chance, no matter what I do, if I keep him with me.” 

  Aflon had shifted, sparing the bundle in his arms a glance one more before murmuring, “his chances are pretty slim regardless, ‘Etta. Babes this small-” 

  “I know,” She’d run a finger along a tiny cheek, face pinching into something bordering on gentle, on sweet, something no one would describe the woman as save with her steads, “But it’s the best I can give him.” 

  He’d felt the weight of those words, the weight of their expectation, and all the more so when the Queen of all Hyrule had lifted violet eyes to hold his own and given him her final command. “Protect him, Aflon. He’s not just your prince, he’s your nephew, and I swear on hell’s ashes if you fail him, I will flay you.” Typically, he’d have assumed her words to be in jest, but the fire behind her eyes, a furious and dangerous love the likes of which he’s only heard tell of a mother for her babe, had made him take the words to heart. 

  “I won’t fail you, your grace.” 

  “No,” she’d stepped closer, pulled his arms down just a bit further so she could duck her head and press a kiss to a tiny cheek, “don’t fail him. All else doesn’t matter-” 

 “The princess-” 

 “I will mind the princess,” Loretta’s eyes had darkened, “and failing that, the Impa sent is a good one. Your priority is him,” and both of them had turned to the child, a child so tiny he almost weighed nothing, but yet lay so heavy in his arms with duty set beside him. “He needs you.” 

  And he did. He hadn’t seen it then, hadn’t felt it, but even a man made in blood and battle knows the worth of life. And so, somehow, he’d managed. 

  He’d carried his little charge back to the closest village and taken a room, managing to ignore the curious and lingering gazes of the locals at a young knight in full armor with a tiny baby in his arms.  

  In truth, he hadn’t been sure where to go from there. Loretta had entrusted him with her child, which meant all other missions, whatever they might be, were out of the question. His duty as a knight, as a soldier, was now changed, which, all considered, wasn’t the worst fate in the world. Still, he’d mused, staring at the tiny creature that slept more than he stirred, it’s not exactly the life he’d imagined for himself. 

  They’d always been knights, or so his own father had taught himself and his brother. The men in their family take up the sword and the women the plow and reigns of a rancher. Their older sister already is married with her own farm, and goodness knows Banzetta himself, though king consort, still carries his blade as the second in command to their warrior queen. For himself, Aflon has never imagined anything else than to serve as his forefathers, perhaps to marry, although there’s no woman who’s caught his eye as of yet, or at least none he’d be keen to stay beside for all his life. He can’t continue traveling Hyrule though, not with a tiny child in his care, not when the world out there is still so dangerous and dark. 

  For days, he’d stayed at the inn. He’d had no direction or clue, but he’d done his best to mind the tiny princeling in his care, although his attempts must have been very poorly indeed because it wasn’t long at all before two of the local village women had been knocking down his door and scolding him left right and sideways. 

  Without the women of Kakariko, Aflon could say for a certainty that neither he nor Link would have made it through that winter. They had though. The ladies of Kakariko nursed his precious nephew alongside their own children, taught himself how to change and clean a child, how to swaddle them up tight against the cold, how to burp and soothe them. He’d listened with care, listened like they were marching orders from a commanding officer, and he’d taken them all to heart, employing every bit of skill imparted to best fulfill his duty to the child in his care. 

  Thankful as he was for those women, the many mothers of Kakariko, young and old both, there was still, despite their care, a fear that gripped him each time one of them took up Link in their arms. The babe was a prince of Hyrule, and were that known it would be easy to stage some incident to see that the bad omen that was a royal son was no more. The women of the village would laugh, saying that anxiety for a child was normal, but they had no conception how deeply his fear ran each time one of them held the boy, each time he had to turn his back on his helpless charge for even the smallest of moments. 

  Come spring, he’d settled, bought a piece of land with the money he’d saved over the years and made a home for himself. As it happened, an old orchard had been up for sale, just close enough to the village to keep in touch with those who’d shown them kindness, but with enough distance that he no longer felt the need to be on the defense at all times against neighbors who might seek to harm the boy in his care. 

  They’d asked, some of the village folk, if the baby was his. For lack of a better response, he’d said Link was his brother’s. No one questioned it. Why would they? He was a stranger to them, and though chatter would sound on street corners wondering what had happened to lead him, ‘a clueless young man who hasn’t the faintest on how to mind a babe’ to have care of Link, but they’d never asked him anything more, just gone on offering advice. 

  That was fine though. That was better than them all assuming he was the father, because it felt wrong to allow such a misconception. He couldn’t say why, but when a parent still lives and wants their child, there’s no right for another to claim them as their own. Besides, he couldn’t be a father. 

  As it was, some days he felt he was doing a terrible job of being an uncle. 

  And he hadn’t thought of himself as such at first, but somewhere amid long nights sitting up, just watching labored breaths from a body almost too frail to take them, somewhere amid whispered words with doctors who’d told him to let go already, with midwives who’d urged him to keep fighting as long as his little one did, somewhere along the line of spending every day forever in the presence of the child, there’d come a day when he’d stopped worrying about his charge, and where he’d started fretting about his nephew. 

  Maybe it was those moments of clarity and wakefulness when big bright eyes would stay up at him, so curious. When floppy little ears would follow the sounds of his voice, or tiny hands would cling fast to an offered finger, toothless jaws working at its tip with little coos and warbles. He couldn’t say. But somewhere in that first winter he’d gone from a knight with a charge to an uncle with a nephew, and he’d never wanted to go back. 

  Sure, it was hard some days. Link was a sickly baby from the start, and he grew slowly. He was bright though, so very bright, like a star as his mother had said, and with every passing day those eyes so like the queen’s own had filled up with their own constellations of joy and smiles, tiny hands clapping, little feet stumbling.  

  Despite all concerns and doubts, his little Link beat the odds. 

  The child was his sunshine. He’d never been a very social man, so the company of a single boy wasn’t bad at all in his opinion. Granted, with just the two of them it had raised concerns when Link hadn’t learned to speak when he should, and for a time he’d wondered if perhaps it was for a lack of him having used words enough for the little one to know them, but in time he’d accepted that words weren’t to be had, and while some village folk would murmur that a changeling might have been traded for his precious bundle, stolen by jealous kolkiri in vengeance for their own lost little one, he’d never minded too much. He’d learned to speak with his hands from the village elder, and so Link had as well, and by that means they’d gotten along quite well until the wee one had made up his mind to try for actual sounds. 

  His old friends from the army were company at times, stopping in between missions and runs, catching a drink or a place to stay. He used to worry about exposing Link to the life he’d known among them, but in front of the child they’d all minded well, many even offering help and kindness he’d never dare to ask for. Some had children of their own, they said, others younger siblings. Regardless of the reason though, not a man would enter his home as didn’t have a kind word for his nephew, and while worry still brewed up within to see Loretta’s child among men sworn to prevent his existence, not a one had ever guessed at the truth. 

  And then everything had changed when Link turned eight. 

  He’d been talking by then. Belated though it was, words would come to him at times, although he’d prefer his hands over his tongue. Despite the murmurs of locals though, the boy was bright, sitting up more often than not with whatever book Aflon could find for him and positively devouring anything inside of them, big violet eyes near glittering in delight at the world painted for his eager mind, at the discoveries and worlds and words and stories- heavens did his little star love the stories! He had ever so much to say about what he read, and a smile brighter than the sun itself, and small though he still was, weak though he’d likely always be, Aflon adored the boy that ran to his arms at every day’s end and shared home and heart with him. 

  He’d had doubts, in the beginning, that he could settle to a quiet life, but it never felt quiet with Link so eagerly learning about it beside him, indeed, it felt like he’d only just learned what it was to be alive for himself! 

  And every day was a new adventure, teaching his nephew something new or finding himself taught some lesson or fact. Every night was settling down before the fire and holding firm against the plea of “one more page!” before smothering his precious Link in mustachioed kisses and tucking him in tight against the chill of the night. Sometimes they were disturbed with guests and his efforts would be in vain, but nine times out of ten when that did happen, Captain Bertram or Major Wilkins would take the lad back to bed and recount enough stories to finally have him dozing off against them, ready to be tucked back in again upon their departure. 

  He wouldn’t have changed that life for the world though. 

  Yet, the world seemed to have other plans. 

  Link had startled awake in the middle of a storm one night, tearfully insisting that something was wrong, that there was danger, that Zelda, the sister he didn’t know was his even then, was in danger and that she’d told him so herself.  

  To another man, it might have been nothing, just a bad dream, but Aflon had himself woken before to the sound of startled cries sounding through an army camp. He could remember when the queen would awake from a vision while traveling with himself and his brother, and many a time, Banzetta had recounted to him when it happened that he hadn’t seen. It was in their blood, the people of Hyrule would say, that those of the royal line would sometimes be given visions, often of future events and or trouble brewing beyond even the eyes of the Sheikah. That was how all the prophecies surrounding his own family had come about, how the reappearance of a hero had been foretold. 

  So, upon hearing such strange words from the mouth of his nephew, rather than beg him return to bed or otherwise ignore it, Aflon had taken it to heart. After all, he’d been reminded, looking down at the tear-stained face at his bedside, Link may be his nephew, but he was also still Loretta’s son; still born with the blood of the crown, a prince of Hyrule. 

   So, although Loretta had told him to leave Zelda’s care to herself long ago, back when she and Banzetta were still alive and before some mission had gone awry and the both were lost forever- despite the fact that the Impa chosen by the sheikah had, indeed, never once failed in her duties, he’d still chosen to attend to the fears of his nephew and brave the storm, just in case. He’d chosen to risk it, even if it did mean he’d strayed from his orders. 

  He wishes every day that he hadn’t.  

  If only he’d done as Loretta said and minded Link first and foremost, maybe nothing would have changed. If only he’d promised that in the morning they would go together- although, looking back, he knows the princess would have been dead by that time if he had. 

  He’s long come to grips with the fact that whatever he had done, there would have been no happy ending, but even so, he still hates himself that he had allowed what happened next. 

  Rather than tell him to go home, rather than protect him, shield him from the world his mother never wanted him to know, Aflon had looked into the terrified eyes of his nephew, down in the depths of the castle sewers where the boy had followed him against his orders, he’d used his final breaths to push a sword and shield into hands too small to hold them, bidding the child go to save Zelda. He’d known he was dying, he’d known Link was scared, but at that little obedient nod, he’d also known something more: 

  His death would leave Link the last of their bloodline, and a prophecy given to a queen long ago had once said that it would be the last of them that would face Ganon when next he emerged. Looking at eyes the same as Loretta’s own, albeit far kinder, he’d found himself reminded of those words, and sickeningly certain that he was witnessing the birth of that hero. His little Link who wanted to be a farmer, who didn’t know how to fight and who was still so tiny, so young, was going to become the Hero of Hyrule. 

  Though he’d been bleeding out as they spoke, he’s rather certain it was heartbreak that had been his undoing, not the wound in his side, and he’d drawn his final breath to the sound of sniffled tears. 

  Yet, it seemed his eyes had only just closed before they were opening again, pain gone and so too his young charge. At first, he’d thought perhaps he’d struck his head somehow and dreamed the whole thing, but both sword and shield were gone as well, although when he reached the end of the sewer system the prison was quiet, empty of any princess, and when he’d turned back and returned to the outside world, not only was it daylight, but it was spring. 

  It had been a late autumn storm that he’d traveled through to reach the castle. 

  He’d thought, hoped, that it was some trick, but when he’d hurried along back towards town, to the house, everyone he passed seemed to think nothing at all of the fact that they were plowing fields and making ready for a planting. They were preparing for a new year of work, as though the winter itself wasn’t supposed to be coming, as though it had already happened! And there were still bits of snow lying about. There was a dampness to the ground of a fresh fallen rain. The world itself seemed insistent it tell him that he was wrong. But if he was, then where had the time gone, and what had happened? Where was Link and why was his side unmarred as though never an ax had plowed through it? 

  His feet had all but flown down the paths, paying little or no mind to those he passed or the startled shouts they sent his way. His goal had been set; his destination desperately darted towards. 

  The house looked entirely normal when he’d finally reached it. The orchard was beginning to brighten, not yet blooming, still expecting another snap of cold before the season truly sprung, but they were well along to blossoming. The path was clear, nothing and no one on it, and when he’d come to the door, he’d found it locked up tight. As it should be, as he’d left it, as he’d taught Link to leave it. He still had his key with him even though his sword was missing, and though his hands trembled he’d still managed to fish it out and, with some struggle, had gotten it into the lock. 

  The house looked the same as it had when he left. Clean as a whistle because a soldier’s training still lingered with him even after eight years and that expectation was one that he’d taught Link to hold himself to as well. Their beds were made sloppily, as though the boy had tried to do it for him after he’d left and maybe given up after, or else simply been unable to see, from his height, how crookedly the blankets had been lain. Most notably though, Aflon had noted, there wasn’t much in the way of dust. There wasn’t much in the way of dirt. The only difference that he found was that the pot, which he kept by the door for spare rupees, was empty. 

  His breath had evened some at that. A clean house meant someone had minded it, and missing rupees were nothing if it meant Link hadn’t been left to starve in the unidentified period of time where Aflon had been absent. 

  Or so he had thought. 

  It was two days later, two days he’d spent searching the whole neighborhood, quite at the end of his rope in fear as Link hadn’t been seen at all in that time, when at last he’d laid eyes on his nephew. 

  Or rather, when he’d met the hero. 

  Because the wary creature that entered the cottage door and froze, hand on a sword and dark eyes so large in a thin face, was not his nephew. Because his nephew would have run to him with maybe a few tears or a cheer, jumping into his arms with a hug rather than start and draw a blade the moment Aflon made a motion towards him. 

  Link didn’t fear him. 

  The boy who came to him in Link’s stead did. 

  When he voiced his worries to the women who’d helped to mind the lad over the years, some would say perhaps he’d been taken, changed for a changeling by the forest children, at last getting their hands on a hero to replace their own. Others just shook their heads and sighed, unwilling to explain why. 

  He’d known though that the child in his home wasn’t a changeling though. No, because that child had eyes every bit as much like the late queen. Eyes that knew war, and battle, that bore the burden of a kingdom which dragged on too small shoulders, eyes that Knew, that Looked, and eyes that Saw people for what they were, not simply what they’d claim to be. There was no doubt, looking at that boy, that he was Loretta’s son. 

  But he wasn’t Aflon’s nephew. 

  Link was bright and bubbly, quieter by nature but prone to prattling when the mood took him. The silent little thing that lived in his house, wary like a rabbit hunted and hidden, was a stark contrast. Link liked to travel with him, going to town for any errands and skip-tripping along the path at his side, getting distracted by small creatures and ever full of questions.  

  Not only did the hero avoid going out of the house when he could, preferring instead to stay inside behind a locked-up door and shuttered windows, but when he did go out, the lad was ever scanning the world, ever watching the sky and the path as though expecting an attack from one or the other. He didn’t stray off towards sudden changes, curious ears cocked, he put a hand to his shoulder and looked for a blade. 

  The child that came back to him held the manner and look of an old knight, not a child too young to even be a page, and it disturbed him. He tried though. This was Loretta’s son, the prince of Hyrule, and as he’d later learned, the boy had indeed become the country’s hero. Not that the boy had told him that himself. No, the child in his home didn’t speak, tongue faltering and sounds stuttering before hands would lift to answer questions in as few words as possible. 

  Two of his fingers were crooked, Aflon realized, watching him, heart aching. Two fingers and, in those first days, he’d favor one leg over the other. 

  He wanted to help, but the boy was wary of touch, starting and panicking as a first reaction if he didn’t see it coming and wincing even when he could. He kept a wide space between himself and anyone, a swords-distance, Aflon realized after a spell, although as for the blade he carried, well, that had disappeared after the first few weeks. It wasn’t the sword he’d handed to his nephew though. The sword that the hero held was unfamiliar to him; radiant, beautiful, masterfully forged so that his own blade paled in comparison. His was absent, and the one time he had asked what happened to it, he’d just watched violet eyes fall and shoulders hunch, and immediately changed the subject. 

  It was hard. His nephew looked the same as Loretta’s child, same face, same form, same stature, although time had made her changes too. The boy was scrawny, and though he had hoped his lost rupees meant his charge was still fed even with him gone, he’d come to doubt that. 

  He wasn’t sure what to make of it when, at learning of his own return, one of the neighbors down the road had invited them both for dinner, and the hero child had only stared at his own plate, stirring the food around but not eating. He’d dismissed it at first, but soon it became abundantly clear that the hero would not eat food he couldn’t watch being prepared, not unless it was a meal offered by Aflon himself, and, to his own surprise, Dolly, the village elder’s wife. 

  Somehow, both she, Dolly, and Sahasralah, the elder, were the only ones who seemed unaffected by how his charge had changed. In fact, more than once, Aflon would find himself watching, wistful, as the two would speak with or even handle the hero with not a thing done to show fear in response. Simple acceptance met their motions, their words, and at times he’d almost been tempted to ask if maybe the boy that wore Link’s face wanted to stay with them instead, as he seemed so much more at peace in their home. 

  He didn’t though. He’d sworn a vow, a vow to do his duty to his prince, to his queen, and though he wasn’t certain if Loretta’s spirit would haunt him if he failed that, he wasn’t exactly keen to find out. 

  He couldn’t leave her son with strangers, with people she didn’t know or trust. Still, as the days passed, house silent as a crypt and the boy inside nearly the corpse it housed, he’d found the temptation growing daily. 

  At night as he’d blow out the lamps, now knowing full well not to approach his charge in the dark and sometimes fearing to even look at him (because what looked back was a slip of a shade with eyes glinting red like a rabbit’s in the low light of the hearth and by all means hardly human) he’d fight his own mind on the matter. Stay or leave, linger with what wasn’t any longer what he’d sword to protect, the child that wasn’t his nephew but was a hero. 

  Loretta said to protect him, he’d remind himself as he lay beneath the blankets. Yet, small hands knew the touch of blood, and the boy who’d wandered in at his door knew a blade like knights four times his age still hadn’t learned. Lying there at night, he’d wonder to himself, what was there left to protect the boy from? Loretta’s child already had seen everything she wanted to shield him from, so what was even the point, when there was no more innocence to shield? 

  It was that thinking, after weeks, months, that had led to him gathering up clothing and books, toys left behind because the person who would leave with him wasn’t a child but a young soldier, so what did they matter? He’d packed things up, watched the hero slip to his side to help, dutifully but silently gathering Link’s clothes and folding them up with the same careful effort Link always did, ending with the same misshapen result, and tucking them away like they would do every summer for the trip back to his own childhood home. 

  He’d locked the door tight that summer. Shut up the shutters and minded that nothing was left untended, no mess within or without. Long ears had cocked sideways, big eyes watching, curious, but nothing was said with scarred hands holding their bags while he prepared the house for their departure. 

  Most summers, he’d take Link down to Lon-Lon so the boy could stay with his grandparents and Aflon could attend to the heavier tasks of their orchard without worrying over minding the lad or leaving him feeling alone. This year though, after Mother had ushered the boy within the ranch house, shooting him a startled stare over his shoulder, he’d not gone back to the cottage. 

  Aflon Lon had, instead, taken to the road. 

  Guilt ate at him, but he’d known there was no going back.  

  He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he couldn’t return to the house. It wasn’t home without the laughter of his nephew, without bright eyes and brighter smiles. It wasn’t home without a presence at his side working away at the trees, muttering and talking at times to the birds who’d stop to watch them in their labor. It wasn’t home without Link, and Link- or at least the boy he knew, was gone. 

 So, he’d wandered Hyrule. He hadn’t traveled in a long while, but it was easy to take up again, to wander the roads by day and make camp at night. He stopped in old haunts he used to visit as a knight to see how they had changed, and he’d thought nothing of his wanderings. After all, it was summer; the summers were always free for him to do what he wanted. It was when autumn had begun to show her colors that guilt had well and truly began to build up inside of him. 

  Link would be waiting at the gates of Lon-Lon, watching the road for his uncle to come and bring him home. He knew it wouldn’t be the same eager stare, ears crooked and head rested on folded arms as the boy would perch on the rungs of the fence, leaning his whole weight against it and keeping eyes and ears on the road. The hero child would likely sit with more wariness, but despite all changes there was no doubt in Aflon’s mind that he’d wait all the same. 

  The difference though, the real one, was that this time, Aflon couldn’t come back. He couldn’t. 

  He couldn’t go back to that house, that child, he couldn’t live like that forever, with the shade of what should have been. 

  Mother and Father though, they could handle a soldier boy. They’d handled Banzetta after his first battles, they’d know how to work with Loretta, and if they could manage the parents of his own charge, he was sure theft were the best suited to handling a young hero. Not only that, but they were safe, they were good, and they’d never hurt Link for the circumstances of his birth. They would be better to him than Aflon could be, and given time, he was sure the hero would settle there again, into a life with a knight, a lady, a history of heroes all around him on the walls and swords ready for his hands; the life he’d taken on, but one Aflon couldn’t watch lived. 

  As for himself, he’d wander. He’d travel, he’d embrace the world he’d had to forsake for a small bundle. By winter, he’d gone further south than he’d ever strayed, gone where word of the hero didn’t reach, where peace and simplicity beckoned. He’d meant to resist, but an evening in a bar with a pretty woman at his side had changed that. 

  “Here alone, stranger?” She’d asked, voice thick with a drawl and gaze bold as she’d settled beside him. 

  He’d never been a bold man, quiet by nature, so he’d nodded. 

  She hadn’t been dissuaded, motioning to the barkeep for a round for them both before striking up chatter, asking where he was from? What brought him here? Where was he going? And his answer of course had been that he was from central Hyrule, seeking his fate and unsure where he’d find it. 

  “D’ya have a family?” She’d asked, honest and friendly. “Can’t be easy for them not knowing where you are.” 

  And he’d hesitated, just a moment, before offering a stilted smile and answering “just my parents and a sister.” 

  A sister who’d left, he told her, to marry a man from across the border, who visited at times but was busy with a farm and a family of her own, much like his own parents were even in their older age. He’d said nothing of a nephew, just the same as he’d left out the dead older brother and sister-in-law. 

  He’d lingered in that town for a few more days, and she’d been at the pub each night, coming to join him when he entered and striking up chatter until they were both looking forwards to the evening when they’d happen upon each other. Somehow though, that had turned to arranged meetings, to wandering, to talking, to a kiss that left him speechless and a courtship that left him stumbling and eager like he hadn’t been since he was just a boy. 

  He’d wondered how she hadn’t had a fella before he’d come, but he’d thanked the heavens for it too, especially when he’d proposed, when they’d taken a home together, when they’d made the choice to live life together. 

  It was easy to forget, for a while, in that early bliss, in the whirlwind of emotions, what he’d left behind to find it. He was reminded though when their own little one was born, when a little boy had been laid in his arms and he’d started when blue shone back at him rather than violet. 

  Liza would laugh and tease him, calling him a worrywart when he fussed. She’d say it was like he’d never held a child before; he was so cautious. She’d remind him to relax, when she found him sitting up and watching the wee one slumber, because he was healthy, he was fine, they needn’t worry so much because while babies need care, they won’t break if you breathed wrong. 

  Aflon couldn’t help himself though. 

  He was used to looking for signs of trouble, for any hint of illness. He’d started when their boy had started babbling, started talking, at only two years old. Liza had said that was normal, that they wouldn’t stay babies forever, that it was part of growing up. Still, he’d found himself signing more than speaking with the boy, and more times than he could count, the wrong name had slipped to his lips. 

  Their son had dark hair like his mother, blue eyes like Aflon himself, but it always startled him to see them. It was supposed to be strawberry blonde, with starlit skies veiled beneath. He expected a slip of a child who was quiet but eager, not a loud little thing that ran and darted and climbed and made him panic because Link was fragile! …except this wasn’t Link, and his son was strong, like him, like Liza. His son was bold, loud, like a little boy was supposed to be, not timid and wary like the boy he’d left behind. 

  It never stopped catching him off guard though. Their little Rusl didn’t care anything for books, or reading, or sitting still. He was always off with other children of the village; he was always climbing trees and ‘sword fighting’ other young ones with twigs they’d find on the roadside. 

  He was a normal boy, all told, but somehow that was more jarring, in so many ways, than if he hadn’t been. Because Aflon had never dealt with a normal boy, he realized. Even Before, his Link hadn’t been normal, he just hadn’t known to see it. 

  It was strange, how often Rusl would stare, watching people without those hesitant little falters that Link always had when someone met his eyes. He didn’t pay attention to the little details, didn’t care to watch the sky or the sun. He didn’t care about stars or tiny creatures or pouring over books the same size as himself for hours. 

  The one thing that the two boys did have in common though, was a love for stories of heroes. 

  Link used to bury his little button nose in the volumes of history that told of the Hero of the Four Sword, the Hero of the Skies: the chosen hero. Rusl didn’t read much, but one day he’d come back to their home with Liza after errands, and he’d had nothing on his mind except some story he’d heard about the Hero of Legends. 

  Aflon had paused in making dinner, frowning because he’d never heard of that hero before, because Link never spoke of that title. 

  “Who is the Hero of Legend?” He’d asked, turning to the dirt streaked four-year-old at the door. 

  “He’s who killed Ganon and saved Princess Zelda!” Had been his answer. “He’s so cool, I wish he’d come to our village so I could meet him!” 

  He hadn’t realized, until Liza had darted across the kitchen and scooped up the pot, that their meal had boiled over, or that it’d burned his hand when it did. 

  Rusl and his friends would talk about Link, pretend to be Link, say they wanted to be heroes like him, be knights, be brave. He’d be in the village and stories would sound, gossip between neighbors recounting the latest exploits of the Hero of Legend. He’d killed Ganon twice, he’d traveled the world, he’d saved Labrynna from a witch, he’d fought some tyrant down in Holodrum. Everyone had a different rumor that they’d heard, everyone a different thought on what the hero might be like. Despite all they’d chatter about though, all he could see in his own mind was a boy with heavy eyes and crooked fingers that trembled when he used them to talk. 

  Aflon had gone home that day, after hearing all the chatter, all the stories, all the news that had come down to them from some merchant who’d strayed to town, and he’d told Liza he was taking a trip. 

  “Just for a few days,” he’d said, wrapping arms around her and trying to smile, even though he’d known she’d see past it. “Just to see how my parents are doing.” He’d left out the part about his old house, about the child he’d raised inside it. He knew it was wrong, felt guilt eat away each time his mind turned there, but he’d never let slip about the boy he’d raised before meeting her, the child he’d left behind. 

  Link, as he’d known him, was gone, why speak of what wasn’t there any longer? Why drag everything he’d tried to leave behind into the perfection he’d stumbled himself into? 

  Still, he needed to know, needed to see, and maybe, just maybe, he’d wanted to see Loretta’s boy again, just to assure himself that he was alright, because try as he might, much as he wished, worry still plagued his heart for the little soldier boy he’d left at Lon-Lon. 

  He’d stopped by the house first, if only out of curiosity for what had become of it. It had been years, had the village elders sold it? Left it be? He didn’t know, so he’d taken the road around Kakariko, hood up as he passed old neighbors, boots stumbling some on a path he knew better than that back to his own wife and child. 

  The cottage hadn’t changed a bit. Standing on the path, apple trees shivering in a slight breeze, he’d almost felt a decade younger, almost tricked himself into thinking he’d need only open the old wood door, the door whose key still sat heavy in his pocket, and a bright little face would whip around to meet him, gap-toothed grin his welcome home as feet would pit-patter across the worn-out floors. Maybe it was that image that tricked his feet into walking, following a path altered only by shade of trees grown taller in his absence, their fruit hanging heavy but not yet ready to be plucked.  

  It’d be cider making season soon, he’d mused to himself, hand digging through his pocket for a key he couldn’t name why he still carried. Absently, he wondered if the old press was still down in the basement, if Link- because it must be Link- had minded to keep it oiled and tended, or if he’d left off using it. After all, the former knight chuckled, the boy couldn’t even turn the handle fully on his own, now could he? 

  His mind had been so caught in his thoughts he hadn’t been minding his surroundings, pushing the door open after a moment’s struggle (the key stuck more than it once used to) and moving to enter his old home. He hadn’t expected to be immediately whacked over the head, nor, when he’d picked himself up again, to find himself face to… face(?) with a masked figure. 

  “We aren’t open!” The purple clad individual had declared, mallet in hand, and a small creature with wings- which could in no ways be considered a bird- fluttering about at his shoulders, squawking and hissing something terrible. “And if you thought you could break in, you’re dead wrong!” 

  Aflon had blinked, slowly, and then started, gaze flying about the house briefly. 

  It wasn’t changed, not really. Pictures were all taken down and boxes were tucked against the walls, but the couch, the rocking chair, the china-cabinet, it was all still there, still in the same places, now with new stains and scuffs, but he could recognize them all the same. Really, the only major difference was the desk near the door scattered over with glittering items and objects, little price tags set before them in poor mimicry of a shop. 

  He wasn’t sure if the purple clad figure was meant to be here or not, but given that the house still technically belonged to him, he’d been more than slightly caught off guard. 

  “I’m not here for a shop, I- who are you?” 

  “Who are you?” The apparent merchant had demanded in answer, face shielded behind a hood that looked like it was meant to resemble a very, very odd face. “And why are you here?” Their voice was trembling slightly, but they stood firm despite. 

  “I live- or, well…” he’d paused, picking himself up and dusting himself off, “I used to live here. This was my house- still is actually, I’ve just been away.” 

  Despite not being able to see the merchant’s eyes, he could feel the apprehension in their gaze, weighty as it was as they looked up at him, one hand on their hip and the other holding fast to their oversized mallet. “You must have the wrong house; this one belongs to Mister Hero.” 

  Oh. 

  “You mean Link?” 

  “You know him?” Their head cocked on one side, hood following with a flap of long ear-like attachments. 

  Aflon had nodded briefly. “Do you?” 

  “Of course!” And suddenly the mallet was gone, the figure gesturing about with a cheery chirp now entering their tone. “He’s my housemate! Lets me stay here, keep up the shop while he’s gone and all that lovely sort of thing. Didn’t realize he had a landlord himself though! So terribly sorry if he’s been stiffing you on rent, he’s been out of town for forever now, you see.” 

  He’d nodded. He hadn’t known what better to do. 

  The stranger had introduced themselves as Ravio, offered to show him their wares, but when asked about Link had firmly insisted that he knew nothing more than that the hero was off on some mission for the crown or something and that he was just keeping the house in order for him. 

  It had been all Aflon needed to hear though. Link was still alive, apparently having embraced his role as the hero, and it seemed he wasn’t alone. He must have left the farm at some time, but seeing as he was approaching fifteen it made sense. He’d been rather eager for his freedom at that age too. 

  The kid would be fine, he’d told himself, walking back to Liza and Rusl. Link didn’t need him; he was getting along fine. 

  Somehow, even with the whole trip home to convince himself of that, it hadn’t worked. In fact, now he couldn’t stop thinking about it, slipping more with Rusl, drifting off at home. Liza wouldn’t let him in the kitchen anymore, insisting that he was too prone to forgetting what he’d been doing, too likely to hurt himself because he wasn’t paying attention. She’d begged him to see a doctor, or talk to her, but he’d waved it off, saying he was just tired, just thinking, he was fine; he just needed to rest. He knew she didn’t believe him, but she’d stopped asking at least. 

  If only he could stop himself thinking as easily. 

  But as the months and seasons passed, more worry had grown, more thoughts. 

  Link is turning sixteen this winter. Sixteen years since he’d stood on the edge of the wood with the queen of Hyrule and taken her child in his arms, promising to guard him. Only eight of those years were spent keeping that promise, only half, and he’d startled when he’d realized it. Even now, he’s left wondering, as he braves a storm so like that night that robbed him of his precious nephew, has Link changed? What is he like now? Did he ever grow into those too-big ears of his? Did he learn to look men in the eyes when he spoke to them, to steady his voice and hold himself with surety and not simply just skill? 

 His boy will be becoming a man, and he doesn’t know what that man looks like. 

  Or rather, he didn’t. 

  Because when he comes home, drenched to the bone but with a fresh kill in hand, ready for dinner, ready for him to show Rusl how to skin and prepare it, he finds his house full of strangers, his wide smiling and telling him that they’re travelers, more boys than men, and they need a place to stay but the inn is so far. Of course he greets them, of course he looks at men in armor and offers a smile like he would to his old brothers in arms, welcomes them to his home. 

  He didn’t realize, until just now, how much he missed hosting people fresh off the path he once used to follow, how much he missed their stories or sharing a smoke or a drink with men like himself once in a while, not just farming folk (nice as they are). 

  He’s midway to offering the a warm welcome when his eyes stray to the fire and he finds himself freezing. 

  Great violet eyes, shaded heavy under strawberry blonde, plastered down by dampness and the storm that howls just outside the door, stare up at him. 

  His breath catches. 

  It’s Loretta’s face, freckled and fine, fae-like features and faint traces of scars, upturned nose and steady jaw, but the galaxies that gaze out from violet pools aren’t the queen, even if everything else about the figure at his fire is. No, those stars are all Link, all his nephew, and the weight of that stare, not sure and stern like his sister-in-law but yet also not startled and wide like that day eight years back when he’d first met the hero. 

  In the same breath, it’s the dead queen and the young hero that sits before him. It’s Loretta with accusing eyes, fire burning in their depths as his own words ring in his head, sounding a promise, a vow to do as she’d said, to guard and guide her son, to protect him, no matter what. Yet it’s Link, it’s that little boy with eyes that know a demon’s smile and remember him bathed in his own blood. 

  If his heart had failed him when he’d first put a sword in the hands of his nephew, it’s ache is a thousand times worse as he stares at the result of that action, even as it refuses to cease in an endless flutter inside him as shock touches the face of the little soldier boy he’d left behind eight years ago, but who’s somehow, some way, found his way back before Aflon’s fire, staring up at him with the same startled gaze that shook and broke his world so long ago. 

  His knees hit the floor even as Liza cries out in concern, hands fluttering about him, but he can’t lift his eyes to look at her. Instead, he’s trapped in an endless expanse of dying stars. 

  “Link.” 

  Long ears, still too big for his nephew, turn his way at the sound of his voice, the answer coming out breathless and disbelieving. “Uncle?” 

[chronicsyd]

ykw? now that I've mentioned this hypothetical I'm gonna make the Wildest hot take that I'm sure No One will agree with but I'm gonna make it anyways:

Caitlyn is a victim of Ambessa's meddling

And before you all start typing away cuz I can already feel your comments coming, No this Isn't me justifying what Caitlyn does. This is me explaining that What she does is reactionary to all of the shit that Ambessa has set up, Ambessa is the bigger problem here and No One is willing to discuss it. They slap Everything onto Caitlyn and call it a day.

Because like I mentioned in my hypothetical, we do originally see Caitlyn still vouching for those in Zaun, saying innocents will die if they bring Hextech weaponry into Zaun solely to make Jinx pay for her actions. Which in turn causes Mel to agree with her, not just because she's against what her Mother's demanding (because she Knows that Ambessa's just puppeteering Salo), but because she also feels that Hextech should be a Last resort in any given situation, Mel still has compassion. Unfortunately, Mel still has to compromise with her fellow councilors, so they settle on sending the Enforcer's after Jinx, just without Hextech. This in turn is what causes Ambessa to set up the attack on the memorial. Because what the councilors have decided isn't going to start a war with Zaun, which is what she's looking for. She needs a catalyst to have people calling for so much blood that not starting a war is no longer an option.

Now I will admit, her bringing up becoming an Enforcer is one of her mistakes. She says to Vi "you can show not all of Zaun supports Jinx" because she believes this. Not just from Vi, but because Jinx's attack was her own, other Zaunites didn't attack the Council, she did. She says "I thought you were on our side" because she thought that Vi would understand because like her, she's lost a parent to an oppressor (and Before you start, I'm talking about Jinx oppressing Caitlyn specifically here. When Jinx threatens her, kidnaps her, and takes away her mom; she's specifically targeting Caitlyn, and for the most part, Caitlyn has been pretty helpless against her. therefore, that makes Jinx an oppressor of Caitlyn). But this causes her to think deeper about it and realize that asking Vi to put on the badge was the wrong thing to ask of her, she says so later in the episode. (btw, it's clear that Caitlyn secured Vi's enlistment Before offering the badge, not after being rejected, y'all are just reaching with this take because you're so blinded by your anger at Caitlyn (ironic isn't it?). Because 1) why would she even have the badge to begin with? But 2) it's pretty clear with with Maddie coming up and talking to her, that Enforcer's have been talking about Vi and Jayce going rouge after Silco's simmer facility for a bit now. And that they're all seemingly impressed with her and how Caitlyn stood up for her, they think that Vi's already agreed because Caitlyn hadn't asked yet)

When she's talking to Jayce, she says that "she understands how easy it is to hate them". because while yes, it is arguable that she was ignorant to people in Zaun back in S1, she didn't see how easy it was for her fellow people to just hate them. Especially after Vi showing her what life was like for people in Zaun. But that was before Jinx went and killed her mom (and gave her her whole baggage of other traumas). But it's still being shown to us that she doesn't lump all Zaunites together just because of Jinx's actions because she still remembers seeing everything down there, she doesn't hate them like other people do.

So, why does the attack at the memorial change things?

Because the attack wasn't made by Jinx, it was made by other Zaunites. Zaunites that she just spent a lot of her time vouching for, being in their defense, giving them benefit. because that's what's happening in Caitlyn's point of view, she doesn't Know (yet, most likely) that Ambessa was the reason that it even happened. She's angry at them and herself because like not shooting Jinx, she's been giving them the benefit when it seems that they don't deserve it. To Her, a peaceful memorial for her Mom that was destroyed by Zaunites that had no reason for attacking them. She Wasn't going to attack them until this happens, because now to her, they're all guilty (keep this in mind, because it actually has to do with her outburst at Vi later).

When she see's that her mom made the vents so that the people of Zaun could breath and not be harmed by the gray, she's so overcome by anger that she uses the gray as a weapon. she plows through the people of Zaun in order to get to Jinx, this is also what she does with Isha later. She isn't thinking rationally at this point anymore, she's simply being controlled by her emotions and thinking that if she kills Jinx it will fix all her problems. And because she now sees other Zaunites as guilty, she doesn't care what her actions are doing to the people of Zaun. they're simply just in her way.

And while Caitlyn says she wouldn't have missed the shot, I'm having doubts about that. Because at that point she's just firing wildly, she misses and takes off Jinx's finger, she misses and hits Vi instead. When Vi grabs the gun and aims it at the ground, look at the face Caitlyn makes here. it goes from shock at what just happened, to looking at Vi in anger. her face Screams "how could you?!" and while Vi's saying she's protecting a child, Not Jinx, that's Not what Caitlyn's hearing. by Vi getting in the way at all, she believes that Vi is still protecting Jinx, that despite Vi telling her to take the shot, that her sister is gone, she believes that Vi was lying to her. That's why she says "I keep telling myself that you're different, but you're not." she now believes that Vi was Never going to kill Jinx, that simply being her sister that was going to be a problem for Vi (because that's what happens in Ep 9. Vi's the one pleading with Caitlyn that "she's my sister" "don't hurt her" etc.). The straw that broke the camels back, however, is when Vi compares Caitlyn to Jinx. Now, Vi's absolutely right in what she's saying here, because Caitlyn has been acting like Jinx (because that's like the whole Point with these two, they're Supposed to be foils of each other). But to Caitlyn, Vi might as well have just slapped her across the face because she just compared her to the person that killed her mom and has been causing all her suffering. In response, she lashes out by hitting Vi with the back of her gun (AGAIN, I'm not saying what Caitlyn did is right, I'm just explaining what's going on and how CAITLYN is currently seeing things).

For a split second, you see regret on Caitlyn's face. She feels bad because she hit Vi, but that isn't quite enough to get her to stay, because the other demons in her head are still convincing her of what she think's Vi's done, so, she turns and leaves.

SO now that we got all THAT outta the way, let's talk about Ambessa appointing Caitlyn as a general shall we?

like I've mentioned in another post, she switches from Salo to Caitlyn because the fool mentioned how much power the Kiramman name wields. Because she simply can't put Herself as leader, oh no no no That would be too obvious. She needs a face for this war to hide behind, someone from Piltover itself, and who Better to Be that face than the new head of the most Powerful house in all of Piltover? Especially now that that new head has been dealing with quite a lot of anger and grief (something that Ambessa is Exceptionally skilled at weaponizing).

She starts with this whole speech of how Zaun has just been attacking Piltover nonstop (despite 2 out of the 3 instances she lists, she Herself is the one that's Responsible), and how "wrath must be met with wrath". Earlier she tells Salo to bring the "Who's who" of Piltover so that Caitlyn CAN'T say no to this because with everyone calling for war, it would look bad for Caitlyn to be like "nah I'll pass thanks". Because you can see everyone's faces, they're Approving of this decision that Ambessa makes, they're Willing to stand behind Caitlyn and the Kiramman name. And so are the Enforcers who Admire Caitlyn, they all begin to pound their chest in solidarity with the Noxian soldiers, they're Also willing to stand behind Caitlyn. and watch the look on her face as Caitlyn walks towards Ambessa, when Ambessa places the cloak on her and swears "her mother will have justice". she's merely starring off, almost in a daze, her rational isn't kicking in, she's merely being lead on a string. here she's being given what she Thinks will solve her problems, and is taking it.

I'm sure that once Caitlyn starts to figure out what Ambessa's doing, not only is her anger going to be directed at Ambessa; but the guilt from the blood that's now on her hands is probably going to eat her alive. She's going to need to make things right with both Vi and Zaun if this has any chance of becoming better but it's rather unclear if that's even going to be a viable option for her. Is there enough time left for Caitlyn to be able to right her wrongs? who knows, it just depends on what they show us.

So all in all, while Caitlyn's actions Are wrong, she isn't this evil, unlovable bitch that just proved that she's been a bitch all along that isn't worth redeeming. thank you for your time.

(before I go, one thing I AM going to say people invalidating Caitlyn's trauma and grief because she comes from a privileged background and therefore "her trauma isn't as bad" is one of the most DISGUSTING things I think I've ever seen. Trauma Absolutely Does NOT work like that. Caitlyn's been through a Fuckton of trauma in merely a matter of Days and is being expected to hold herself together. Yes the actions that she's taking are wrong, I've said this like 5 times during this post, but that doesn't mean her pain and trauma has less value and isn't real. This isn't the trauma olympics, there isn't an invisible line that someone has to cross before you deem "they're allowed to react now")

[raventrinkets]

Krang Timeline??

Hey y'all, has anyone figured out a timeline for the Krang in ROTTMNT? I've been gathering facts from the show/movie, but I was curious if anyone had already figured this out.

I'm going to include all my notes under the cut, but My QUESTION is:

If the main Krang were sealed away 1000 years ago (as Raph says in the movie) does that mean that there were still Krang around to give Shredder his armour 500 years later? Or was Raph misinformed and the Krang were probably sealed around the same time as the Shredder, 500 or so years ago?

Edit: @pinkjunepeanut made a fantastic point in the comments! Basically she said that the Krang probably were sealed 1000 years ago, but contacted Oroku Saki from the Prison Dimension (likely via the Key). Go check out her comments if you want the full theory!

If you've got thoughts or answers, please share! 

Please note I've made Edits to the original version of this post! I've indicated where :)

At this point I'm pretty sure that:

A Krang ship crashed at some point very early on (now within the Weeping Titan), allowing for Empyrean to create the Yokai. If we're following when Yokai entered our written records, that would have to be before 720 CE (so over 1300 years ago). (I'm specifically referencing the Nihon Shoki or Nihongi here).

A Krang (who kinda looks like Krang 3) gives Oroku Saki the Dark Armour, which eventually corrupts him and turns him into the Shredder. Karai seals them both in the Twilight Realm, but is released by the Turtles 500 years later (that's what she says, anyway). So it would have taken place in the Sengoku Period. Which makes a lot of sense, as this period started with the Ōnin War, and Karai refers to the Krang who gives her father the Dark Armour as an Ōnin. Probably not a coincidence on the writer's part. 

The Krang were sealed within the Prison Dimension “many centuries ago”:

Raph specifically says 1000 years, which I believe would place the invasion in the Heian Period of Japan’s history. Due to the overlap of Yokai and Mystic powers, this probally would have had to have taken place AFTER the Krang in the Weeping Titan died. But I suppose it could be possible that specific Krang died in that battle, creating the Yokai later on, and we can ignore historical accounts of Yokai mythos within the ROTTMNT universe. But then we have the issue of WHO GAVE THE SHREDDER HIS ARMOUR?? Edit: As I mentioned above, Pinkjunepeanut offered a neat solution to this: the Krang were sealed 1000 years ago, later contacting Oroku Saki from the Prison Dimension, probably in a bid to get him to eventually free them.

If Raph was misinformed, and the Krang hadn’t been sealed for 1000 years, that changes things. Considering the Mystic Warriors seem to be wearing armour based more from the Edo period of Japan, 400-500 years would make more sense (I have more notes below). This would probably mean that the Krang were sealed in the Prison Dimension AFTER the Shredder was sealed in the Twilight Realm, so they could be around to give him the Dark Armour in the first place. 

Notes on the Mystic Warriors armour:

So this is the picture we have of the Mystic Warriors that sealed the Krang ^

I THINK they're wearing (from left to right) a Kutsune Mask (mainly seen in the Edo Period, but also, to a lesser extent, in the Heian period), a Dō-maru kabuto (also appeared in the Heian period, but was also common in the Edo Period), a hitai-ate (Edo period) and Chronmage hairstyle (Edo period again), and finally another hitai-ate or maybe a Hachimaki (Sengoku period, but also later on). (Please note that this is all me doing some cursory research online, so I could very well be incorrect or misinformed).

All of this makes me think they were learning towards the Edo Period in the designs (this also could have been influenced by ninja themed anime, like Naruto). However, there is a fair amount of overlap with the Sengoku period, which is when Karai is likely from. This wouldn’t change a lot, just how long it was between Karai’s first interaction with the Krang and them eventually being sealed by the Mystic Warriors. 

Edit: While I believe (again, this is based off my brief research) all their attire overlapped the most during the Edo or Sengoku periods, if we assume they sealed the Krang 1000 years ago (during the Heian Period) then most of this can be chalked up to creative decisions. I mentioned above that it's likely the show took influence from existing media focused around ninja's, so their blend attire from different eras can easily be explained away by that. Pinkjunepeanut's theory also answers a question I didn't bring up: the fact that none of them are wearing a recognizable emblem. If they were a part of the Hamato (or Foot) clan, then those symbols definitely would have been incorporated into the designs.

Anyway, all of this to say, does the timeline look something like this?

Krang scout (?) ship visits earth, crashes, accidentally creates Yokai and probably mystic powers with Empyrean.

500-800ish years later, more Krang appear and basically make the Shredder, forcing Karai to seal herself and her father in the Twilight Realm. This creates the Foot who worship the Krang and the Hamato's who work to prevent the Shredder's return.

Sometime in the next 100 years, the Krang attempt a full invasion of Earth, prompting the four mystic warriors (Hamatos? probably.) to seal them within the Prison Dimension (which appears similar to the Twilight Realm, as @pinkjunepeanut pointed out to me, and can also be accessed by a mystic warrior [Draxum gets them into the Twilight Realm, Mikey to the Prison Dimension]).

400ish years later, the Movie happens.

If this is wrong and the Krang were sealed 1000 years ago, it would mean that a different Krang gave the Shredder his armour. While that could be interesting (as that means there's more Krang kicking about), I think this was more akin to the "Hammer and Anvil" Strategy. Basically, the Krang probably sent a small force to weaken Earth or corrupt it to their ways (as seen with the armour corrupting Oroku Saki and the Shredder's later goals, ie. the conquest of humanity), before attacking with a greater force later on (this could have been a decade to a century later). However, this didn’t go to planned as they were sealed away by the Mystic Warriors (who they likely accidentally created with Empyrean in the first place... LOL). 

Edit: It could also look like this...

Krang scout (?) ship visits earth, crashes, accidentally creates Yokai and probably mystic powers with Empyrean. This would have to be, at minimum, 1300 years ago (but was probably a lot earlier than even that).

1000 year ago, so during the Heian Period, the Krang attempt to invade Earth. They're stopped by the four Mystic Warriors and sealed in the Prison Dimension with the Key.

A little under 500 years later, the Foot Clan, led by Oroku Saki, is under attack and he makes a deal with a mysterious "Ōnin" (the Krang in the Prison Dimension) for the armour that eventually corrupts him and turns him into the Shredder. His daughter, Karai, created the Hamato Clan in response and eventually seals both herself and the Shredder in the Twilight Realm.

500 years later, the Turtles accidentally release the Shredder but then defeat him and reunite a no longer corrupt Oroku Saki with Karai.

3 (ish) years later, the Foot (who still worship the Krang who gave their founder the Dark Armour) release the Krang with the Key, and the Movie happens.

Honestly, I think this timeline fits better than my first, but I decided to keep the original as I don't like doing major revisions to post's after posting them. We show our work here😂

I know I'm probably making this more complicated than it needs to be, as there's no guarantee the writers worried too much about making it historically accurate. But, as I'm currently in the middle of a fic that's dealing with the Krang, I want to finalize my timeline LOL. Also, I'm sure I'm not the only person who's tried to figure this out, so if you have the answers PLEASE SHARE! I could be missing something obvious that answers all my question, and (if it wasn't obvious by this essay of a post) I love finding out more about the show.

If you've read this far, you are amazing.

[howi99]

A saint in Beacon Extra's 2

Jaune: *looking at Yang* Are you sure you want to go against me? I am pretty strong.

Yang: *smirk* So i've heard. Your semblance works like White, right?

Jaune: *shaking his head* That's just me using dust at its full capacity. My semblance has nothing to do with it.

Yang: So a dust specialist, eh? *Hit her fist together, activating her semblance* But less talk, more action!

Glynda: *nod* Begin!

___________________________________________

Red: So, who do you think will-

Jeanne: My brother.

Ruby: Really? But Yang's the best! *Looking at her brother* Right?

Red: *nod* Beside Pyrrha, she is the strongest.

Jeanne: *shaking her head* She's strong, yes. And if it was just a test of pure speed or strength, she would win.

Ruby: But?

Jeanne: *point at the fighting ground* See for yourselves.

Ruby: ... Where did he hide all those crys-

___________________________________________

Jaune: *walking to Yang* Uh... Sorry for this morning. Are your eyes better?

Yang: *laughing* Dude, i never SAW that coming. You really BLEW me away, uh?

Jaune: *scratching his neck, sheepishly looking at the ground* I honestly thought they would have prepared y'all to deal with flashbangs and concussive grenades. I know they are useless against Grimms, but still...

Yang: Aw don't sweat it. Besides, you managed to do this without my hair catching fire... By the way, how?

Jaune: Oh, the grenades were just overcharged gravity dust crystal. Having as much aura as i do really helps with this kind of strategy. I used a mix of electric and ice dust for the flashbangs.

Yang: Oh, so that's what the cold was!

Jaune: *nod* I guess so, yes. I didn't want to go all out, my teacher would have killed me.

Yang: Glynda?

Jaune: *shaking his head* No, "miss Viviane", the assistant of professor "Merl".

Yang: Really? Her? The one who cowered in fear when your mom came to school?

Jaune: *having flashbacks to his magecraft training* She... Can be intense. Especially if you are HER student, you know? My sister and i got it rough.

Yang: Jeanne? Didn't she train with Glynda?

Jaune: *shaking his head* I was talking about my oldest sister, Mordred. She uh... Warned me about our aunt.

[thebluester2020]

Minors Do Not Interact Plz

Y'all, Sebastion with a kink for maids.

Since he's not really listened to at home, I feel like he'd have a thing for maids, he doesn't care much for the uniforms or the person in the uniform itself but it's more so the attitude. The absolute devotion, the urge, and eagerness to please, he'd get hard just at the very thought of having someone show that much care toward him. A pretty little thing who is willing to do anything for him, being pretty in a maid uniform is just a bonus!

So check this out, Sebastion and Sam decide to visit Zuzu City due to hearing word that a new maid cafe has opened up, and he spots you. Bouncy attitude and cute make-up, all the while you sported a short long skirt maid uniform and called people "Master" or "Mistress" to boot! He swore he fell in love right at that moment, and when you started to serve his table, you did as well.

You were interested in him the second he walked in alongside his friend, and you made it clear you wanted to serve him in a very different way when you decided to lead him to the storage room during your break—

"I thought maids were supposed to be dutiful about their jobs?" Sebastion groaned from behind you as he flipped up your skirt, admiring the white lingerie underneath. A pair of lacy white tights attached to a pair of garter belts, snugly hugging the fat of your thighs. "But you're over him seducing a customer..." He continued.

You looked over your shoulder with a breathless giggle, your face flushed red from you and Sebastion's earlier make-out session as you sucked in your bottom lip. "N-Next time, I'll—"

"Next time?" He interrupted. "Aren't you supposed to be apologizing to your master for being such a slutty maid?" A soft moan left your lips when Sebastion began to massage your ass, his crotch starting to rub against your still-covered cunt ever so gently. He swore he could've gotten a nosebleed at any moment, this situation was so hot. Fucking a cute slutty maid in the storage room of the cafe she worked in, he practically drooled. "Don't you want to apologize?"

You shuddered when he pressed himself against you.

You couldn't nod your head fast enough. "P-Punish me..." You moaned. "Make me see the error of my ways, master~"

. . .

Lewd aht aht ahts echoed throughout the storage room as you braced your hands against the wall, Sebastion's cock twitching inside of you at your sounds as he plowed into you with the fervor of a starved man. "Ha...you're pretty tight, you sure you're reflecting on the error of your ways?"

"Y-Yesss—!" You moaned in response. Your tongue threatened to lull out of your mouth from how well your newfound lover was dicking you against the wall, your pussy clamped tightly around his cock as the delicious feelings of his veins rubbing against your walls turned your mush into practical mush. All you wanted to do was enjoy the feeling of his cock inside you, to not have to think about a single thing. "Fuuuckkk!" You cried out, your hand flying back to press against Sebastion's abdomen in a weak attempt for him to slow down.

He laughed at your pathetic attempt, instead taking your arm in his hand and using it as more leverage to drive himself into you. "You're tightening up maid...you must really like my punishment."

"I-I love...fuck...being p-punished by you—Oh!" You sucked in a shaky breath through your teeth as you felt your orgasm beginning to approach you, your slick dripping down between your thighs as you clenched your fists in anticipation of your orgasm. "Punish me more master, d-don't let me off lightly...." You continued to babble, your eyes practically forming into hearts when Sebastion started to hit and poke at a pleasurable spot deep inside your cunt. Sebastion smirked at your honesty as he continued to pound your cunt, turning your ass red as you began to feel yourself tingling all over.

"F-Fine then," Sebastion whispered, speaking more to himself rather than you, his muscles flexing as his pace began to stutter. "I won't let you off easily." As you felt him lean over you, wrapping his arms around your torso, you keened when he suddenly increased his pace seemingly tenfold, giving you no room to breathe as he viciously trusted his cock in and out of your weeping cunt. His senseless battering on your insides was almost enough to drive you to the brink of insanity. "S-So fucking good..." You clenched at the feeling of Sebastion's hot breath on your ear, his deep voice making you moan like a wanton whore. "My hips...they won't s-stop...!"

"F-Fuck me...! Please don't stop, fuck me harder!" You cried out. Your eyes begin to roll into the back of your head as you hit your climax suddenly, a gushing noise faintly reaching your ears as your vision blanked out from the force of your orgasm. The overwhelming ecstasy nearly suffocated you, whines of overstimulation tiredly escaping your throat as you tiredly looked back to Sebastion.

"J-Just a little m-more..." He moaned, anticipating your question. He managed a few more plaps against your ass before he suddenly stilled. A deep groan drawling out from his throat as you smiled dopily at the searing feeling of his cum flooding your insides. The two of you stayed like that for a little while, basking into the afterglow of your orgasms before you until you decided to move your hips with a soft chuckle. "Want to exchange numbers~?" You suggested.

He couldn't reach for his phone fast enough.

[solitaryandwandering]

A Ramble: Love in the Big City Eps 7-8

WOW. WOW. OKAY. I've been letting episode 8 sink in for the last couple hours, jotting down notes and just generally absorbing this wonderful show. So beautiful. I'm so glad I put aside time to watch this and talk about it with y'all. Just another heads-up: this is a RAMBLE. My thoughts on things usually change, like 15 minutes after I upload these. But they still matter! So I hope they inspire you to think more about your own interpretations or what the show meant to you.

Let's start off with cinematography, shall we? I talked a little about this yesterday, but this director's style is one I tend to gravitate to. I was searching for a way to describe it during the entirety of today's episode and I think I landed on it: "delicate." Not necessarily fragile but lighter in touch. Her style also feels relatively naturalistic. She's intentional in what she does with her camera and what she asks of her actors but the majority of what happens here translates as less-choreographed. Movement is clearly blocked but feels looser? Yeong's behavior specifically reminds me of how freely he moved in the first part. He’s still weighed down and grieving but it feels like Gyu Ho still did something good for him. He feels much more mature, that's for sure. Or maybe this is just coming across more as he visits Bangkok and his relationship with Gyu Ho?

I've also been struggling for a way to describe the lighting in this section - it's definitely intentional but is not as stylized as it was in the last section. I don't think "flat" is the right descriptor, but I do think they're using much more ambient lighting. It's all still pretty, I'm not using this as a negative. The coloring feels kind of dim in parts; I mentioned yesterday that I was reminded a lot of what is considered "indie" cinema which is a very broad statement. Again, what I think I'm picking up on is less reliance on studio lighting or highly-stylized camera blocking. I know for a fact they are not using handheld camera at least for the vast majority of these episodes but it still feels like they are.

Kim Se In actually does quite a bit to achieve her naturalistic style; she utilizes dirty framing (objects or people in the foreground), off-center angles or unique perspectives, and hides some of her more stylized choices with neutral coloring. She usually sticks to medium close-ups; when she doesn't utilize these she still chooses similarly-proportioned framing. Her camera actually moves quite a bit, though I found that they seem to move with what the viewer would naturally be looking at. She's not trying to direct our attention anywhere else. We are moving along with what is happening on screen and in the narrative. When comparing her camera movements to those of Part 1, for instance, she is not as sharp or pointed. Nor are her actors as energized; both the camera and the actors move more languidly or smoothly in comparison. The way she directs her actors around props feels different, too. But maybe that's just me. The score they use across these two episodes is also really interesting, though I'm not really qualified to speak on why.

Visual barriers are a BIG one in this part. We get so many shots of the viewer (or character) looking through curtains, bars in windows, glass walls of a shower, etc. My favorite shot in this part was in episode 8, when Yeong and Gyu Ho are in that really shitty room in Bangkok. They're lying on their backs on the bed, sweaty, and the ceiling fan blades cut between them and the camera. As they talk about the fan falling and smashing them into burger patties, the camera steadily presses in on the two of them until they’re both partially cut off by the frame. Stylized, but not unobtrusively so. It especially fits because it's within the context of a flashback.

Though all four parts feel distinct there are common visual themes throughout all four parts. Mirrors are a big one. But we see a direct contrast in style in the flashback sequences which overlap with the prior section’s. Specifically with the two of them in the boat and running back to the hotel. In the prior depiction it felt more romantic, sunnier with a pretty score. The both of them are happy, carefree, Gyu Ho is helping to roll down the tarp, and I think less people are on the boat? I’ll have to double check. It’s interesting that the flashback does not feel as romantic as it did when they lived it. The way he remembers it, he became bothered as soon as it started raining and was more short with Gyu Ho. The light is dimmer and the camera angles less romantic. They’re also lying side by side instead of in different directions. What is more accurate? What they felt in the glow or after? He definitely blames himself so much for the way their relationship went.

The last thing I'll point out is how cool her use of zooms were. There’s a moment in the market where the camera literally focuses in on Yeong and Gyu Ho like a home video camera. She KILLED ME.

Habibi was such an interesting character to have around in this last section. A direct contrast to Gyu Ho and someone Yeong saw himself in. Lonely and closed-off. In their time together they were alone but keeping each other company in their loneliness. In his flashbacks we can see how happy Gyu Ho made Yeong and how much life he brought. With Habibi he's trying to revisit some of that energy, pushing each other to live. When they're drinking together it's to feel something, to grow closer to someone else. When they walk away one of them says “The taste was never important” - ultimately, though they allowed each other an escape and levity, they will not be able to experience flavor, not the kind which comes with a life fully lived.

I love the way this show was able to feel like a completely cohesive effort despite having four different directors at the helm. Themes I picked up on in other episodes: queer loneliness, heteronormativity (and its relationship to misogyny), ownership, distance, shame, and honesty/communication are all present in every episode. In this part, though, I was just thinking of emptiness. That, and what we do to fill it. Is it an act of futility to try, or is that the whole point?

Everything is empty. Rooms, empty doorways, physical and emotional space between people, soy sauce bottles, the space Gyu Ho used to occupy, relationships, balloons. The future. Yeong, Habibi, and even Eun Su are filling a void. In episode 7 especially it felt that Yeong's life had become empty and unmoving, with occasional intrusions from others who brought activity but not exactly fulfillment. Everyone wants to escape. In chasing his past, trying to determine what's fake and what's real, Yeong found his distraction in Habibi. Yeong and Habibi fill an empty stairwell with laughter, chasing adrenaline and a taste of life. When he's not there, Yeong faces his past and must reconcile with what has been lost.

In the end, what they are searching for is life. Yeong chooses to “live wholly" as himself and suggests Habibi do the same. Eun Sui leaves his unfulfilling relationship. I can only hope that Yeong will learn to take his life back from Kylie and anything which would constrain him. Instead of his life going by in a flash, I can only hope he can find the courage to face it with eyes wide open. Instead of pulling away from others because of disgust with himself, I can only hope he can learn to work through his shame.

Go Yeong means to shine high and bright. He tells Habibi that he's not a star but a nuclear bomb. I hope he doesn't condemn himself to loneliness anymore.

In the end, all he wishes for is love.

Perhaps love is about sharing ourselves, exactly as we are.

Thanks for reading my incoherent, over-written rambles! I was gonna write way more but it was becoming increasingly long and nonsensical. I loved this show, 10/10. Will 100% be reading the book after I finish the two I'm working on. Thank you @lurkingshan and @bengiyo for opening up a space for everyone to come together and talk about LITBC!

[exquisite-tomarrymort-telephone]

Do we pick up the phone in 2025?

As anyone in the Corpse server knows, I've been saying I won't run the Broken Telephone next year. But best co-host Jenny says she's in to do it again, so consider this poll a way for us to gauge potential interest. This isn't contractually binding, it's simply to see what y'all are thinking.

We'd change up some of the rules and guidelines to fit with what we learned running it this year, but it would be pretty similar.

As a reminder, the Broken Telephone involves participants receiving a prompt, writing ~1,000 words or drawing something fairly simple, summing up what they created in one sentence, and passing that on to the next person.

Let's see how this goes~ ♡

[gingersnapwolves]

I appreciate all y'all's advice! Just to touch on a few things that were mentioned:

They did check my ferritin. It's 16, so the absolute lowest number possible that can be considered in the normal range.

I know not to take it with my thyroid medication, so I take that in the morning and the iron before bed.

I take it with Vitamin C.

I don't take it with black tea - in fact I don't drink black tea in the evenings pretty much ever.

I have to admit that sometimes I do have cheese as a late night snack, but not to the extent that it should be causing this issue - I've successfully taken iron supplements for years without having any problem until very recently.

Most likely, I have some malabsorbtion issue which is what I have been TRYING to tell my PCP since July. This started around the same time I was getting my thyroid treated but those levels have been normal since around March and I'm still having issues with muscle cramps and BRUTAL fatigue.

Considering that autoimmune disorders run in packs and my thyroid problem was of the autoimmune variety, it seems like celiac is a likely contender, but I didn't figure that out until today when I was Googling about why my iron might have dropped so dramatically while on supplements.

I actually said to my doctor at my last visit, "my endocrinologist said I should be checked for other autoimmune disorders as a cause of my problems since once you have one, you're more likely to have others" and my doctor said, "you don't have the rash you get with lupus or the widespread joint pain you would have with rheumatoid arthritis" and I said "ohhhhhhhkay"

So now I have to go back to my doctor and say "I think I have celiac" and I'd bet 20 bucks she'll say "but you don't have any GI symptoms" whereupon I will show her the five articles I have bookmarked about atypical presentation of celiac disease and if she still argues I guess I'll just stop eating gluten and see what happens.

This concludes your monthly update on "what the fuck is wrong with Kouri"

My iron has dropped from 39 to 23 in three months *while taking iron supplements* and when the results came in my pcp was like "your iron is kind of low :) :) you should take an iron supplement :) :) :) maybe three times a week :) :)" as if I have not asked about my iron levels the past two visits in a row and I'm gonna lose it

[lenakluthor]

KATIE MCGRATH as LUCY WESTENRA ↳ Dracula 1x09 - Four Roses

[scarapanna]

Hey everyone!!

I've finally finished working on this huge project started wayy back in june!!

It's going to premiere in about 20 minutes for y'all to see

[cassmouse]

This is a Future Ramona Flowers appreciation post bc look at her I actually love her so much

[gazspookiebear]

Screenshots of Laswell smiling bc I love her

[bruttomisandro]

Now I get when people say that Warrior cats is Game of Thrones with cats(incest)

[psalmsofpsychosis]

Luke Hunter: Girlfriend Material