#She loved that he didn’t even mind her lack of intellect. sometimes even offering to to slow down and help the dwarf Eeveewith her studies

[fujii-draws]

hey fujii do you wanna hear about a silly little thing i thought of earlier. so you know how in red/blue rescue team, eevee used to be in the "naive" category, whereas in explorers of sky, it's in the "jolly" category? it made me think about ribbons, specifically because of how the rescue team personality test describes the naive trait.

in rescue team, the naive type is described to be someone whos highly curious, and someone who likes rare things. their cheerful and carefree make everything fun for the people around them, but they also have the flaw of being childish, never sitting still, and always being on the move. (it also says that they might be selfish but i dont see that applying to ribbons tbh..)

it seems so oddly fitting for ribbons because her personality does show those traits in particular. she's a silly little thing and her bright cheery personality, and she is childish to some extent. and of course, can't forget her curiosity. especially with how curious she got when it came to dusknoir. and of course, we can't forget about the *actual* definition of naive. naivety in the sense of choosing to believe that dusknoir, despite how his aura flared with malice, bared no ill intent. to think that someone who is so great, so wise, so kind and caring could ever be capable of shattering her world apart.. that was naive. because she believed he was what she thought he was, and because it was her naivety that nearly got her and aimilios killed. you'd think she'd have learned from the drowzee incident where two kids displaying trust in a spur-of-the-moment stranger who coincidentally showed them kindness in their misfortune was a mistake, but i suppose that's what being a naive little child does to you.

(anyways im sorry if this sounds incoherent and out of the blue. have a good day)

DONT YOU DARE APOLOGIZE FOR THIS. THE JOLLY AND NAIVE NATURES FIT MY GIRL SO WELL. (Unhinged rant in tags)

[agent-cupcake]

As a resident Claudefucker, I know am curious to know what our fave charming schemer is doing during this Mafia!AU. He'd look lovely in a suit.

~It was quite the headline when Godfrey Riegan died. The details are a little hazy, a little convenient, but people don't talk about that sort of thing. Car accidents are common. Tragic, but not unreasonable. There’s no reason to smear a man’s perfectly respectable political career for the sake of some sensational gossip.

~In the right circles, however, there was a huge uproar, questions about who was going to take over the Riegan family when the elderly boss Oswald died. The Riegan’s had been dominating Leicester for quite some time, but a lot of people began to predict that the Gloucester family was going to move in. They had powerful friends, it seemed. Friends with money, no less.

~Claude Riegan, grandson of Oswald, appeared out of nowhere just when he was needed. Stories of the lost daughter Tiana still circulated, sure, but there were still a lot of questions about Claude’s origins when nobody except Oswald were able to vouch for him. He obviously had military leadership experience—his skill with guns and ability to lead was just too excellent for any other explanation—but he dismissed the question out of hand. There’s no documentation of him, either, leading some to wonder if even his name was false. But Oswald said he was family, and that was that.

~Claude was quick to establish himself, in any case. Despite his cavalier attitude, his efficacy in overhauling the power dynamics of Leicester were profound.  

~He decided, first and foremost, that the way to win the people over was to invigorate the local culture, which had seen a sharp decline as a result of new laws that were unfavorable to business, Adrestia’s growing market monopolies, and the bad reputation of the red light district Ailell. This included some perfectly legitimate campaigning and some under the table type schemes. 

~The result was a flourishing Derdriu Street. While it lacks the prestige of Enbarr Square in Adrestia, it welcomes entertainment that would be considered too “low brow” like comedy, trendy new restaurants, and music venues. Even better, all of it is built on the recently cleaned up river. The Riegan family is involved in all of  it, of course. 

~Casino owner Claude. This exists solely to thirst but maybe it was preexisting and he took it over due to its poor management? If there’s going to be gambling anyway, it should be done right. The extra money’s not so bad, either. But, Claude lounging in a big leather chair in a dark blue blazer with gold brocade, his white shirt unbuttoned low enough to see enough his chest. Enough to make you drool. Enough that you’d definitely get caught staring and probably called out for it because he can’t help himself. Claude with his elbows on the arm rests and fingers folded in front of him as he considers you, gold rings winking because he’s just that ostentatious and appearances are important. Claude asking you how you feel about taking risks in a way that really feels like it has nothing to do with cards, staring at you with a friendly smile that doesn’t meet those calculating eyes—eyes that you know will pick up on every tell. 

~Claude also struck a deal with the Kupala Distillery. They’d been fighting to keep hold of their historic business for years, and Claude offered to help them with that. You know, not for free, but he’s good at making deals that leave everybody happy. 

~The second biggest thing he tackled was the drug trade. For the most part, no one family had ever had a complete handle on that market. The Goneril’s had a hold over the docks for years, but the Edmunds had been moving in and working with the Gloucester family to bolster their power. Distribution was scattered and hard to keep track of as it ultimately circulated wherever there was a profit to be made. Looking at it like this, Claude decided that the only way to fix things was to take control over all of it. In his line of work, shady things like the drug trade are impossible to avoid. At the very least, if he has control over it, he can ensure the product is clean and expel far more unsavory ventures.

~Through these escapades, Claude was able to make alliances with all of the major families. A lot of them had only remained loyal to the Gloucester family out of fear so as soon as they had an alternative, they bolted. This has an unfortunate side effect of revealing how his power is perceived. Every day is a balancing act for Claude. He allows each family to function as they please as long as they’re aware they do so at his mercy. It’s better to keep friends than to control enemies, but even that requires a delicate maneuvering of power.

~However, Claude likes the conflict. He enjoys the game and he especially enjoys winning the game. There’s a certain level of his excusing amorality for the sake of his family and Leicester, but there’s an equal part of him that understands his wrongdoings and deals with it separately. He wouldn’t hold to the naïve “ends justify the means” idea to excuse himself, but he would still argue that his actions have value and are even necessary. If it weren’t him, it would be somebody a lot worse than him. That’s probably something that would linger in the back of everybody’s minds whenever they shook his hand or paid their respects, whenever they began to think of how easy it would be to take him out. Fear, too. So far, Claude’s never done anything shockingly bad, only what was necessary. But with his power and intellect, it’s always a question of what he could do.

~If someone asked him that, Claude would smile that friendly smile and tell them that he would do anything to see his vision made real. Whether or not that’s true remains to be seen. 

~Luckily, Claude’s not alone! Hilda is the stereotypical crime family princess. She joined Claude because he offered her freedom from the overbearing control of her father and brother. Her skill in manipulating everybody around her combined with her reputation as a ditzy rich girl makes her fantastic at gathering information, assuming Claude can get her to do so. But, as long as he’s not being too forceful, she’s surprisingly motivated to weave her way through social circles and charm everyone. Although she would never say it, the order he brought to Leicester, not to mention the entertainment, made everything a lot better for her and her family. Plus, she likes being useful after spending her entire life watching Holst give his heart and soul to family while she did nothing. Ultimately, the information she provides is essential and her relationship with Claude is one of the few either have that’s built on trust, respect, and loyalty. That said, sometimes even Claude gets a little shiver as he watches how easily Hilda can manipulate people.  

~Lorenz was one of Claude’s most disdainful detractors, although a part of that was jealousy. Claude just swept in and did things that Lorenz had been waiting and planning to do once he became the head of the Gloucester family. Even after being on the receiving ends of such vicious attacks, once Claude undeniably had the upper hand in Leicester, he went behind the Gloucester boss’s back to Lorenz and told him that they were going to be friends or enemies, it was Lorenz’s choice. Not threatening him, just pointing out that the fall of the Gloucester family was inevitable under his father’s leadership and that Lorenz didn’t have to suffer for his father’s sins. Probably over mimosas and brunch. Lorenz is proud and has no appreciation for Claude, but he’s not stupid. After they worked out their disagreements and more or less accepted each other, Lorenz and Claude became pretty close. Claude knows that having someone to openly and aggressively disagree with him isn’t a bad thing. Not only that, but Lorenz’s a solid ally with a better grasp on some of the things Claude has difficulty with due to not being a native. Lorenz is willing to admit that Claude is a good leader.

~Marianne is well educated in the realm of the law and political action. The reason the Edmund family saw such success despite their lesser status was because of her adopted father’s genius. which he made sure to share with Marianne. She is invaluable in aiding Claude on the perfectly legitimate side of his business, and helping him hide his tracks for the shady stuff. Raphael is the muscle. Lysithea is a computer genius. Being a sickly shut in with issues that only recently saw treatment, she’s on the Mr. Robot level of hacker mode activated. Ignatz is an architect which is useful since so much of Claude’s power is in the property and infrastructure. He also designed a lot of places to have some neat-o hidey holes. Claude loves buildings that have secrets. Leonie is manages a lot of the physical and pettier side of the work. If someone’s stirring up trouble, she’s likely to pay them a visit as a warning before Claude has to get involved. She used to be a mercenary but being on Claude’s payroll is a lot better of a gig.    

~As for the suits, one thing is very important. Claude would not, under any circumstances, wear something tight on his thighs. I actually kind of like the idea of him going for a 1980′s style modernized. In his post timeskip outfit, he’s already got a hint of that going on with how oversized his outfit looks. The 80′s (rightfully) gets a bad rep for fashion, but it’s also very iconic with those wide-collared suit jackets, matchy-matchy three piece suits, sportscoats with a fun patterned shirt underneath, open blazers, pleated pants with an oversized jacket, and—in particular—the trend of summer suits in shades of tan and cream with colored shirts underneath. Then, combine that with a pair of Ray-Ban Aviators and a topless convertible and you’ve got a distinctly recognizable mob boss who doubles as a devastating heartthrob. I’m not saying he’d do a 1:1 recreation, but you’d definitely see references to the fashion of the era in his outfits. He would wear oxfords or ankle boots. Whatever it was, they’d have to be comfortable. He also doesn’t shy away from jewelry. The earring, of course, and rings when he's feeling particularly decadent. When he’s wearing his shirts unbuttoned Claude could possibly wear a gold chain. I mean, what are you gonna say, no? That gold doesn’t look gorgeous against his skin? That it’s tacky? You’re talking to the man who wore quilted pants. Claude’s not afraid to stand out because he knows he will anyway, nor is he afraid to be seen as unfashionable because he doesn’t particularly care about trends. I also enjoy the idea of him emulating the 80′s as someone who didn’t grow up in a western culture and thus mainly saw things through the lens of movies. Whatever he wears, however, he would look very handsome.

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Hi besties - here is part 6! We are officially halfway through this fic! Part 6 sees friendships blossom, situationships struggle, and cheeky intercontinental facetime chats! I hope you all are enjoying it as much as i am! I love hearing from you after you've read it! Love always, Steph xx

Part 6 | parte sesta

warnings; a couple of tugs on the heartstrings (in both the best and worst ways)

word count; 2301

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Friday 06/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven

link to fic masterlist here

Amelia had been back in Turin for a week or so, settling back into her city apartment had been more difficult than she anticipated as she was now alone for the first time in more than 2.5 months. It wasn’t very often, but sometimes she did miss the companionship of having a boyfriend. She missed someone to have breakfast with, to watch movies under the covers, to bring to official events. She still did all of these things, with a date, that was a friend, that sometimes maybe crept beyond the friendship zone and into the we shouldn’t be doing this but it feels so good zone.

Fede was someone that hung around Amelia like a fly to sugar. She enjoyed the attention most of the time. She appreciated his friendship, wisdom, talent and intellect. He could hold a conversation, talk to her about the arts, sell her the dream. She even didn’t mind it when they did cross that line a few times. Long afternoons and even longer nights spent wrapped up together in his bed sheets, her bathtub, his kitchen, her lounge room...you get the point. It was almost as though the two were in a committed relationship - committed being the operable word.

Fede wanted Amelia all to himself, and she was just that - available to him and for him whenever he wished, which was often. That’s what confused Amelia most, he didn’t want to label their situationship. He was happy to be ‘friends’ outside the four walls of their respective homes, but lovers when the curtains were drawn. She would maybe understand if he was elusive, always going out and on his phone but he wasn’t. He spent all of his time with her, there wouldn't have been enough hours left in the day if he separated those he spent with her from those he spent alone.

The Juventus players noticed this behaviour early on, seeing a noticeable difference in the way their number 33 paid attention to their tactical sessions. How he was turning up to the training centre early, with an extra piccolo for the english member of their coaching staff. Federico claimed he was helping Amelia brush up on her Italian, but having an Italian-born mother who insisted on sharing her culture with her kids, meant she was pretty much fluent in the language before arriving in Turin. His teammates weren’t stupid and neither was she.

This was the one area of her life where Amelia felt comfortable to go with the flow, she didn’t need to prepare or overthink anything to do with the charming Italian boy from Firenze. She let him take it at his own pace, she was in no need to rush. She let him take her home to meet his Nonna, she spent quality alone time with his dogs when he’s running late from training, and that’s a rare occasion being that it’s normally her there after him and he hangs back to drive them both home.

Everything was progressing at his pace, and the moment Amelia just asks for some clarification on the situation, he would get visibly stressed. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too. And for a long time he could, he had Amelia's attention and affection at Juve, he even had it during their european campaign. At the end of the tournament, when they all broke up for their summer breaks, Fede conveniently waited until their final round in the shower, if you know what i mean, before pulling her into bed and having a heart to heart with her.

Amelia thought that she was finally getting the clarification that she was after, which in a way she did. Fede spoke whimsical words about how she makes him feel wanted and understood, and in turn he told her about the affects he knew he had on her. It was a conversation that would turn Shakespeare to a pile of rose petals. In the end, he told her that he wanted to continue what they had just how they had been doing it. And so, that's exactly how they left it. No labels. Friends outside of the four walls of their apartments. That was all Amelia needed to be able to enjoy her family holiday in Mykonos, guilt free, not missing the man that became the equivalent of her shadow.

The constant company she had in Mykonos compared to what she was experiencing in Turin made her more eager to return to work than she had previously. Of course, there are group chats and facetimes and phone calls throughout the days that kept her occupied, but she was missing the boys and her brother. Her friendship with Kyle was back to its old ways, memes being shared across the european continent, long phone calls to talk about their problems. Kyle knew all about the Fede x Amelia situation, Amelia having given him the sparknotes version over a wine filled zoom session one evening that same week. Their pre-seasons hadn’t gone back yet so they were able to indulge in a bit of vino, guilt free.

She was surprised about the constant contact, or lack thereof, that some of the boys had maintained with her. Ben Chilwell hadn’t once messaged or instagrammed the girl, despite being active in their group chats and liking her holiday pictures on instagram. He even made the rookie error of liking a picture so far down on her instagram, there was no way to explain his need for being there. She messaged him a couple times, assuming he just got busy with whatever he was doing, but there was radio silence on the other end.

A friendship she was surprised had blossomed so well, considering their flirtatious start to life, was with that of Jack Grealish and Tyrone Mings. There had been more facetimes than she could count between herself and the two villa boys. Whether it was Tyrone telling her about a book he had finished that he thought she would enjoy, or Jack asking her how to cook dinner, maybe even them both cooking dinner together - of course she had to have a later dinner to be able to do so, with the time difference and all...and there was no way Jack was going to be having dinner an hour early “athlete’s schedule an all tha ya’know” he would smirk down the camera, brummie accent on full display.

She met Tyrone through Jack, he facetimed the girl for outfit advice one night before going out with the tall defender and the pair hit it off. Both giving Jack the fashion advice he needed but didn’t want to hear (a Gucci two piece tracksuit set is never the answer). Tyrone immediately noticed a certain attention to detail being applied by his fellow number 10, to the tactics that were being put forward by the girl that was far too good at her job. His training was improving, his set pieces having a certain amount of flare. There was also a lack of attention being paid from Jack to other girls. Instead, much preferring to spend the evening at home watching the same netflix series as Amelia so that he could discuss it with her the next day, or better yet, at the same time.

As pre-season had commenced, Amelia had been applying the same tactics that she developed (and that obviously worked) throughout the European campaign to her Juventus club level. Having faith in the four men that were with her and the Azzurri to ensure that their other teammates were completing them accurately. It appears that her skill was widely recognised, having a few missed calls and voice messages left from English telephone numbers that she was yet to listen to. In all seriousness, she was nervous to listen to them. Worried that they would make her an offer she couldn’t refuse. A wise person once told her that you shouldn’t make any decisions whilst you're at the top of your happy, or the bottom of your sad. You should make important decisions when your life is at its constant. It's very easy to accept things that you wouldn’t normally when you're at the peak of your mood, just as easy as it is to forget the bigger picture when you're down. Who knew Kyle Walker was so wise.

“So, i’ve got a bit of a dilemma” She spoke down to her facetime camera one evening in early August.

“Hit me with it darlin’” Jack spoke back to her, getting his dinner utensils out so that they could cook together again. He didn’t like not being prepared for her tutorial, he got stressed if she added pepper and his pepper was still in his pantry. Each afternoon, when it was agreed upon what they would be cooking together that evening, she sent him a list of what he would need out on his bench to complete the meal.

“I’ve missed a few calls from English teleco numbers this last week or so”

“Ok? Do you think they’re scams? You’re beautiful Amelia but I don't think it's actually an Egyptian prince on the other end that wants to offer you 250k in exchange for your paypal info…”

“Ha ha very funny - that was one time ok and he wasn’t a Prince, he was claiming to be an investment banker and wanted to help me start up my portfolio-ANYWAY JACK I WAS 16! God just forget I even told you that story” Amelia barked down facetime, now pausing what she was doing to point at the British boy with her wooden spoon, the same way her mother would to her when she was being cheeky. All she was met with was boisterous laughter.

“Nah i’m only joking, continue with your story.”

“I began to listen to the start of one and it was a talent acquisition manager for one of the premier league clubs, offering me a job” Amelia said as she continued to stir her pasta. Tonight they were making penne arrabiata. She received no reply from the boy. Looking down to her camera to check the call was still active, she saw him looking at the camera with a serious expression.

“Are you going to tell me what the problem is before I start to get excited that you’re going to be living within driving distance from me? Oh god i’ve just realised - was it from Villa? You could be even closer than I imagined” Jack started to ramble, getting over excited with the prospect of being so close to the girl that he could physically hang out with her, instead of virtually.

“Jack calm down, I didn't listen long enough to find out what club he was from. I have 5 more just like it waiting in my inbox.”

“What's the problem then Mils?” Jack could see the girl had apprehension written all over her face.

“I’m just nervous that they're going to tell me everything I've always wanted to hear. That they’re going to make me an offer I can't refuse and I have to leave my life here.” Their pasta was ready to be dished up now, so the girl poured herself a glass of red wine and got herself comfy on her couch.

“Come on, play the messages and i’ll listen to them with you, be your voice of reason,” Jack offered the girl.

“I should probably call Tyrone, you’re just going to reject every club that isn’t Villa.” she laughed before switching facetime to her laptop, moving to the floor of her lounge room and resting her elbows on her coffee table. With the phone near the screen of her mac, she began to play the messages.

_____________________________________________________________

“Hi Amelia, Shaun here from Newcastle United-” “As if you’d waste your talents at Newcastle”

“Jack! That's horrible! At least i know i already look good in the black and white striped kit”

“No, not happening. Next”

“Amelia, Hope you don’t mind but I got your number off of one of my players who knows you. Long story short, we have a position here are Arsenal” “Bloody Bukayo, needs to keep his silky mitts off ya”

“Jack, give it a rest or i’m calling Tyrone”

“Amelia White, Greg here from Aston Villa Football Club” “Get in Greggles!! That's it, stop listening, you’re taking this one”

“I need to listen to them all Jack”

“So, you’ll consider Villa?”

“I’ll consider all of them”

“You’d really go to Arsenal? Aren’t you a Spurs supporter? Shocking stuff”

“Ok maybe not all of them”

“Ciao Amelia, Mario here from Chelsea Football Club - I’ve heard nothing but good things about you. We could really use you here at Chelsea next season. Give me a call when you get a spare moment to discuss the opportunity”

“What? Nothing to say to this one, Jack?”

“Nah, sounds ok. You deserve to showcase your skills at a big club like Chelsea. And besides, you’ll have Jorginho there to look after you. Come on, next one”

“It’s the last one actually”

“Amelia, we’ve got a fantastic opportunity here at Manchester City for someone with your skill set. It would be a massive advantage to have your tactical insight to the game coupled alongside the fantastic leadership we’ve already got at the club”. “Holy shit, Pep called you himself? Kyle Walker really knows how to pull strings when he wants something”

“I am overwhelmed”

“Hey, you don’t need to make any decisions right now. Sleep on it, talk it over with your family. Speak to Jorgi, I know you’re close with him. And just let me know when you decide to pick Villa so i can start house huntin’ for ya”

“Night Jack, speak soon”

“Sleep tight darlin’, speak to ya tomorrow”

Part 7. | settima parte

[ourmixedrealities]

Mixed Signals (Part One)

~WARNING~ Alcohol / Swearing

Kai Parker and (Y/F/N) some would call us troublemakers while others would say I was the one who tamed the monster.

Kai and I have been friends for as long as I can remember. My first introduction to Kai was on the schools playground, I was seven years old minding my own business while I played in the sand box, I was quickly joined by Bryce and Devin, If you looked at them quick enough you’d easily assume they were twins.

 “I like your hair.” Snickered Devin as he ran his fingers through my hair, I shrugged him away quickly. “Yeah, Wouldn't it suck if someone put sand in it?” Bryce mocked as he scooped up a handful of sand. Before a single grain of sand could fall onto my head another little boy ran over shoving Bryce head first into the sandcastle I was building. Bryce gasped causing sand to fill his mouth. The new kid chuckled as he climbed off Bryce’s back. Devin took off running as he cried out for our teacher, Bryce quickly scampered after Devin as he spat wet sand onto the pavement, His eyes growing red as the particles irritated his eyes. “The names Kai. I’m sorry for destroying your castle.” He smiled as he began rebuilding it. “I’m (Y/N)” I replied shyly. “I won’t let anyone bother you anymore.” He vowed, Little did we know this would be a promise he would never break.

“Mr. Parker!” Mrs. Fieldsman scorned. I watched as Kai’s eyes grew wide and I specifically noticed how his smile never left his face. “Sorry! I gotta go!” Kai laughed as he jumped back up onto his feet and began running away from our teacher. I couldn’t help but smile for the rest of the school day, A strange sense of safety wrapped around me.

After that not a single day would go by without us seeing each other, Even if one of us were sick we would hangout through the window that divided us. My parent’s loved having Kai over since that was the only time he was ever truly well behaved. As time passed I realized he was spending more and more time over my house and I was rarely ever invited over to his, I began to think his parents didn’t like me. I was wrong...

As the years passed Kai became more troubled, He would get into a fight at least every other day. It got to the point where our school threatened to expel him. Of course the school didn't care to know the cause of each fight, They just cared that Kai was always involved in them. Somehow I was able to convince Kai to behave himself long enough for us to graduate high school. I quickly learned that things at home weren't great, His parents were constantly belittling him and claiming that he wouldn't amount to anything. Since Kai was so troubled his family decided that they couldn't handle him any longer, They figured since he was 18 he was old enough to go off on his own. My family acknowledged how mature I was and allowed me to move out at 18 too, Sure it took a little begging and bribing but it worked. Kai and I  decided to get an apartment together near the college I was going to attend. It worked out perfectly, We each had somewhere to live and I didn't have to live with a stranger.

Now here I am 21 single and still living with Kai who is very much not single, As a matter of fact he has a beautiful girlfriend who I also happen to be very good friends with! Her name is Harley and she’s absolutely perfect for him. She’s extremely adventurous, Patient, and overall a great person to be with if you needed to let off steam, Nothing scares her. An added bonus to Harley is she is extremely welcoming of Kai and I’s friendship, There’s zero jealousy or distrust. We can all hangout as a group or one on one, It’s great. As a matter of fact I’m the reason they even met, Harley and I needed a place to study for an upcoming test and of course I offered my home as a safe spot. Kai came home early and the rest is history, Truth be told he didn’t let us study much but we did end up passing the test.

(Present Day)

“Guess what!? Guess what!?” I squealed as I ran up to Kai who was in the process of making a sandwich. “What what!?” He replied as he jokingly tried to match my excitement. “James Buckland asked me out!! You remember him right!?” I gleamed. “Buckland? Yeah, I remember him.” Kai’s enthusiasm quickly diminished. “We are going out this weekend!” Kai took a big bite out of his sandwich, While he chewed he repeated “Buckland!? Why Buckland?” My excitement began to dwindle. “Why not? What’s wrong with James?” I asked cautiously. Kai shook his head after taking another large bite. “Nothing... He’s just not your type... I mean it’s Buckland!” Kai became extremely expressive as he spoke. I crossed my arms over my chest as I asked. “Oh? And who exactly is my type?” Kai paused, Clearly attempting to choose his next words wisely. “Well... For starters your type is a guy who needs to be intelligent which yes Buckland has that going for him, But he’s not exactly brave and he’s rather boring... You need a guy who can keep you on your toes, A guy who can keep your attention. Someone who can make you roll your eyes and then burst out into a fit of laughter, And that’s just not Buckland... You wouldn’t have any fun with him, He’s to safe.” Kai shrugged knowing he was right, But I was feeling even more confused. “Shouldn't I be with someone safe?” I commented back. “Well yeah of course... But no... See, Buckland is to safe meaning he wouldn't be able to protect you... Sure he wouldn't get into a bar fight or hurt you which is perfect but you need a man who can make sure you're taken care of. Safe.” I couldn't deny the fact that Kai had made valid points but I still refused to let him believe that he won, Either way James is a good guy and he deserved a chance, And I haven't seen him in years so I’m sure time has changed him.

After much anticipation Friday finally rolled around which meant it was the day of my date with James. I will admit that our texting conversation wasn't exactly what I was expecting but I was still excited nonetheless. We decided to meet at a fancy restaurant and he said it was his treat, I was becoming more excited by the moment. I showed up in my favorite dress, I was honestly feeling like a million bucks when I heard, “(Y/N)? Is that really you?” The voice sounded vaguely familiar. I glanced around the room until my eyes were met with a man whose glasses were much to large for his face. “Wow! (Y/N) it’s me... James!” He exclaimed. “Oh! Hi! Of course. It’s so nice to see you.” I smiled noticing how his tux was even to tight for his slender frame. “I suppose you thought this was a casual restaurant.” James mentioned as his eyes scanned up and down my body. I attempted to laugh it off but his face told me he was serious. The night continued to decline rapidly after. The whole night James would brag and use words that I don't even think he knew the real meaning of. I suppose he could of been insecure and thought all he did have was his intellect, I would of disagreed, I could of told him he had kind eyes but at this point even that would of been a lie. For hours James attempted to make himself look better than everyone else here, He even tried to make me feel like I should of been honored to be invited here. Kai was wrong about one thing, James sure did know how to make my eyes roll. “Pardon me” I excused myself mid sentence, I have no idea what James was going on about but I couldn't take it any longer, I grabbed my possessions and strut into the restroom. “You’ve got to help me!” I exclaimed feeling relived when Kai answered the phone. “It’s going that great huh?” I could hear Kai attempt to hide his chuckle. “Shut up, Do not tell me ‘I told you so’ I don’t want to hear it... I just need to to call me in five minutes with some excuse as to why I need to leave. Ok?” I pleaded. “Give me ten minutes and I can do even better, Which restaurant are you at?” He asked calmly. “The Moonshine Rose, Why?” I questioned less calmly. “See you soon!” Kai cooed before he immediately hung up the phone. 

I wasted an extra two minutes before making my walk of shame back to the table. It was like I didn’t even leave the table, James began rambling on and on about his oh so perfect life. I sat there picking holes into my bread while muttering the occasional “Ah... Yeah... Is that so? Nice.” This was not at all the James I remembered... If anything he was the exact opposite, He was loud and rude, He was overly confident and seemed to lack true ambition. I had never walked out on a date before so I was thoroughly glad that I would be leaving before we ordered anything.

“What are you doing here?” A voice said from behind me, I whipped my head around to see Kai standing there with his arms crossed. “I’m on a date... What are you doing here?” I answered back unsure of how to react.  He paused to walk next to our table where I stood up. “You look beautiful...” He added without thinking. “I...You have to go home, It’s important..” Kai’s act quickly changed leaving me more confused but I nodded. “Sorry James, I’ll message you sometime.” I left a twenty for our poor waitress who sadly had to deal with James for the entirety of our date and even more so now that I left.

Once the fresh air hit my skin I turned to Kai and said. “That was your big master plan?” I laughed as I nudged his shoulder. He let out a forced chuckle. “Honestly? No, But I really don’t wanna talk about it...” His voice grew more serious as he began walking to my car. I gave him a puzzled look but followed close behind. “May I ask what your plan was?” I questioned apprehensively. Kai shook his head. “I just wanna get out of here.” He mentioned. “Then why are you walking to my car? Shouldn't you go to yours?” I joked. Kai didn’t seem to think I was very funny as he replied. “No man should ever allow a woman to walk to her car alone. I have to make sure you’re safe, Remember?” I nodded again understanding where he was coming from. “Are you okay though?” I asked as I opened my car door. “Yeah, I’m fine... I just have plans with some friends... So I’ll be home later...” He mentioned as he walked further away from me. “Oh... Shit, Harley is supposed to come over tonight... Would you mind keeping her company?” He added sounding less excited than usual. I however was very excited, I could use the girls night. 

Harley and I decided to stay home for the night while Kai had his boy’s night out. Since Harley’s initial plan was to hangout with Kai we decided to just stay at Kai and I’s apartment that way as soon as he came back they could easily be together. Our plan was to have a horror movie marathon, Freak ourselves out and then to eventually pass out after watching the sun rise. Unfortunately for me Harley had a busy day and was able to fall asleep easily while I remained awake and scared. Even my phone ringing was enough to make me jump out of my skin, Granted it didn't help that it was two in the morning. “Hello? Is this (Y/N)?” A man vocalized, I could hear loud music and people cheering in the background. “This is she, Whose this?” I questioned back. “My name’s Dallas, I’m the bartender at Burgers and Beers Bar and Lounge. I’ve got your boyfriend here, He’s pretty far gone and has been begging random people to call you.” He chuckled obviously amused by my drunken friend. “Oh, No... That’s not my boyfriend, If he wants his girlfriend I can wake her up and have her come get him” I stated as I looked over at Harley's sleeping body. “I don’t know what to tell you, He was very adamant about calling you.” Dallas assured. “Oh, Well... Okay I guess, I’ll be there soon.” I stated feeling uncertain. Once off the phone I attempted to wake Harley up, But once I realized there was no use I got dressed, Wrote Harley a quick note in case she did wake up and set off on my adventure to pick up a blacked out Kai. 

Thankfully for me the bar was only a fifteen minute drive away, I was also able to find a parking spot right in front of the entrance, At this point I was feeling pretty lucky. Once inside of the bar I grew slightly nervous since it was packed but once I linked eyes with the bartender I was quickly able to spot Kai. I squeezed past the drunken crowd and finally next to my best friend. “You look radiant!” Kai gasped as he finished the liquid that remained in his glass. “Who let you drink more?” I questioned sternly. Kai pointed at the bartender who was smirking to himself. I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Let’s get you back home and in something that doesn't reek of whisky.” My face warped as the smell filled my nose. “Oh come on... Stay awhile. I’ll buy you something.” Kai offered. I shook my head. “I’d rather get you home where Harley can deal with you.” I admitted. Kai groaned as he placed a hundred dollar bill onto the bar. “Fine, Let’s go.” His demeanor went from happy to seemingly numb. I mouthed a quick ‘sorry and thank you’ to the bartender for dealing with Kai. Dallas smiled sweetly letting me know that Kai wasn't any trouble.

As we walked towards the exit of the bar a man smacked my ass and proceeded to say crude things. I tried to grab Kai but I wasn't fast enough, He was already on top of the man. “Kai! It’s fine, Let’s just go home.”  I called out. Kai looked in my direction. “No, And you know I would never just let this go.” Kai glared back at the man. “He’s not worth it though!” I exclaimed. “Maybe not but at this point I sincerely don’t care.” No one in the bar moved a muscle. “Kai... Please, I just wanna go home.” I answered back calmly. Kai released the man and slowly walked back towards me. “That’s right, Go back to your little whore.” The man scowled as he picked his drink back up before he could take a sip Kai was back on him, After one swift punch to the face he lifted the glass and bashed it onto the mans nose causing blood to spray everywhere, “Now we can leave.” Kai voiced, Quickly wrapping his arm around me. 

“Won’t you get into trouble for doing that?” I asked once we were by my car. “Nah, The bartender said that guy had been harassing woman all night, I just finally did something about it.” Kai shrugged as if it was nothing. I sat down in the drivers seat and turned to Kai. “You know, You scare me sometimes.” I stated with a smirk. Kai’s face instantly became serious.. “Wait, Really?” He began to sit up straight “No goofy, It’s an expression, You don’t actually scare me. Honestly I should be thanking you..” I voiced. Kai shook his head. “You never have to thank me, You know I will always do whatever I want.” He admitted. “This I know.” I laughed. “I’m just scared that one day you’ll get into serious trouble, I mean, You’re old enough to go to jail...” My body trembled at the idea of Kai in prison. Kai took my hand. “I promise, I will always do less than what will cause me legal issues.” He smirked. I forced a smile back. Kai’s phone began ringing wildly, As he took it out of his pocket I could see Harley’s photo. “We should get home.” I announced. “Yeah.” Was all Kai would say before he slid his phone back into his pocket. That’s when my phone began to ring, Before I could pull it out Kai stated “Please ignore it.” and I did. The rest of the car ride was quiet, Which is odd when it comes to Kai.

Once home Harley was waiting by the front door, Kai went straight into his room. “When you called I was driving and Kai passed out in the car.” I lied in hopes of not hurting her feelings. She smiled believing every word I spoke. “No worries, I’m just glad you both got home safe. She stated happily. I nodded as a rush of guilt washed over my body. I hated lying to my friends and I didn't even really understand why I lied, We weren't doing anything wrong. “Yeah, See you tomorrow.” I vocalized. I shrugged off my negative feelings as I assumed that was just from being tired. Harley left me after voicing a quick “Yeah... Ill see you tomorrow.”

Harley walked into Kai’s room feeling her heart grow heavier by the second. “Kai... can we talk?” She began knowing there was no going back after this. “I don’t know Harley.. It’s been a long night and I would really rather go to bed... Can it wait until the morning?” Kai asked trying to be compassionate. “Honestly? No... It can’t wait.” She admitted. “Alright, What’s this about?” Kai patted the spot next to him. Harley ignored his gesture. “It’s about (Y/N)...” She began. “What about her? Is she ok?” Kai scrunched his face completely unaware of where this conversation was about to go. “She’s fine, But you do realize that you’re in love with her, Right?” Harley stated. Kai froze. “I’m not mad.” Harley added calmly. “I... What..? Is this some weird joke?” Kai mumbled. “That’s why I’m breaking up with you. I love you both way to much to get in between you two, And I know that you’ll never be able to love me the way you love her. This is far from some joke.” She forced a smile. “No, Where is this coming from? I do love you.” Kai pleaded. Harley shook her head. “No you don’t Kai,  You love the fact that I can distract you from loving her, But we... We  both know it’s just a short term distraction.” Her voice began to break as she spoke. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, the way you look at her when she’s not even paying attention to you... You constantly compliment her which don’t get me wrong, I LOVE that, She deserves to feel beautiful... But that’s love and ill never have that with you. I will never regret our relationship, But I wouldn't be able to forgive myself for keeping you from her...” She admitted, Unable to make eye contact with him. A tear finally broke free as she realized how right she was. “You wanna know how I know you love her?” She questioned. Kai shrugged, Unable to find the right words to say. “Because you haven't denied it...” She spoke under her breath in fear that speaking up would cause her tears to escape further. “I do love you though!” Kai grew louder as if he was trying to convince himself that it was true. “I don’t doubt it, But stop fighting me on this. We both know you would be way happier with (Y/N)... So let’s stop pretending that you and I have a future Ok?” She paused. “Maybe sometime in the future we can be friends again, But Kai?” She added. “Yeah? What?” Kai was now staring at his feet. “Don’t come after me, I’ll be fine.” She added quickly before taking off. Kai remained silent as he watched her walk out of his life, He knew deep down that she was right...

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of DC: Week of February 12th, 2020

Best of this Week: Pennyworth R.I.P. One-Shot - James Tynion IV and Various Artists and Colorists

Some people think Dick Grayson is the glue that holds the Batfamily together, some say that it's really Tim Drake, but we all know that it has always been Alfred.

Alfred has been by Bruce's side since the day that Thomas and Martha Wayne were killed in Crime Alley. Alfred raised the boy from a young age and watched as he became a hero that Gotham City could truly be proud of. Alfred even got to see Bruce raise many kids of his own over the years and sas there to pick up the slack when Bruce was too injured, angry or didn't know how to talk to them. Alfred was patient. Alfred was loving. Alfred was amazing and will be sorely missed.

Alfred met his tragic end during the recent City of Bane arc and even after that wrapped up, it still took time for the rest of the family to get together and mourn his passing. Bruce has been trying to cope with it all by throwing himself into his Gotham Renovation Project and various superheroics. Barbara’s been dealing with her own issues in the form of a rogue Oracle. Damian has the Titans, Jason is on the outs with the family and Dick (Ric) doesn’t even really remember Alfred.

In the end, Bane managed to do what he set out to accomplish in the first place: He Broke the Bat.

Not only did he break Batman, he broke the entire family as a whole as shown from the very first shot of this book. Eddy Barrows presents us with a pulled out shot, showing a statue of Alfred in the middle of the new Alfred J. Pennyworth Children’s Hospital - a momentous honor meant to save kids just like Bruce. However, this scene also symbolizes the distance between all of the family. Tynion IV does a great job of scripting their inner thoughts as told by an unseen narrator.

Damian, being the one who was there, feels the weight of his disobedience and sees things as his fault. Tim hearkens back to the time after Jason died and fears for Bruce, knowing the darkness inside of him. Jason was told to NOT come, but Alfred had always treated him right and Barbara feels like she knows how to fix things, but who’s to say that she’s in the right mind to do so either? And Ric… well, Ric doesn’t know why he’s there, but he feels obligated.

Barrows does an amazing job of showing the pain through their forlorn expressions and lowered heads. I assume that Adriano Lucas was the one who colored these scenes because they make excellent use of cold blues to emphasize the sadness of the Family. Barrows also does something that a few artists struggle with in distinguishing each of the boys from each other. They each have distinct hairstyles and facial structures and it’s a nice touch for such a tragic event. Soon after, Tim finds a little dive bar for them to meet in and they each bicker a bit before Bruce arrives for toasts and memories.

This book also does an excellent job of showcasing personal moments that we never see between the kids and Alfred. Beginning with Damian, Chris Burnham draws a flashback to one of the first times that Alfred bails Damian out after he disobeys Batman about going out on patrols. Tynion IV and Burnham capture Damian’s early petulance through his childish pouting superiority complex. We see that Damian loved Alfred because he was willing to be patient with the young boy and Bruce was just getting used to having a trained assassin as a son. 

Damian is still widely considered the worst Robin, but that idea has long passed its expiration date as the young lad has grown significantly over the years. In the beginning he could have killed anyone and not felt a lick of remorse for it, but over time, thanks to the softening of Bruce and Alfred, the boy has learned to care and take responsibility for things that weren’t even his fault. He tears up thinking that the rest of the family blamed him for Alfred’s death and regrets that he didn’t do more to stop Bane before leaving the bar. 

Tim speaks next and Marcio Takara takes over art for Tim’s flashback. The third Robin is still arguably the smartest, but during a hectic fight with Firefly, he leaves some of his gear and Alfred bails him out by sneaking into the GCPD to retrieve the items. It’s very action packed and does well to show that sometimes Tim loses his cool too, but after the recollection, Tim says that he would step in for Alfred if Batman ASKS him to do so. When Bruce refuses, Tim makes a point that this is exactly like how Bruce was after Jason, but this time he has to pull himself through like an adult before he too leaves.

Tim is usually the Robin that’s touted as being the one who saved Batman during his most destructive period. He’s always been the level headed one, but in recent years he’s been put through the ringer. From being kidnapped by an unseen entity and thought dead for almost a year (Detective Comics, 2017), to fighting an alt-future, villainous version of himself (Detective Comics, 2018) and finally reuniting with his Young Justice friends and dealing with the chaos of that (Young Justice, 2019). Tim is tired and even more so of the darkness that shrouds Bruce and the Family.

Jaybird raises his glass to Alfred next and offers a counter to Tim. He says that maybe Batman would have worked out his issues after Jason’s death if a new kid didn’t swing in and just try to relieve him of the pain. Jason has always been the most extreme of the family, but he’s never been above asking Alfred for help. As a street urchin, Jason doesn’t trust most people, but despite this Alfred always thought to check up on Bruce’s second son and tried to bring him back to the side of the angels. Jason never bit, but he appreciated the effort.

He tells Barbara that he won’t chastise Bruce for how he feels because they’re all in that same spot right now, but he does want Bruce to work towards fixing it. Jason knows better than the rest of them what it feels like to have lost (Heroes in Crisis, 2018), but he also knows what it’s like to be there on the fringes with no one there to help.

Batgirl is often lost in the conversations that usually revolve around the boys, but she shouldn’t be. Barbara’s intellect exceeds that of Tim by a wide margin, but that intelligence also comes with an intuitiveness given to her by her father, James Gordon, as they live in the heart of Gotham. Barbara makes the most logical statement about the general fear swelling in Gotham after Bane’s rise and defeat and the lack of trust in Bat themed heroes given everything that The Batman Who Laughs has done. Bruce’s reconstruction project isn’t helping either as it’s just another shiny coat of paint over a city whose problems run down to its roots.

Babs may not have grown up in the mansion like the boys, but Alfred cared for her just the same, effectively being Batman’s first daughter...niece maybe the better description? David Lafuente does the art for her flashback and it’s a more cutesy style with thick defining lines and lots of faraway shots as we see Alfred and Barbara hiking up a mountain just outside of Gotham City. The actions of Killing Joke absolutely still happened and to celebrate the anniversary of Barbara leaving spine rehab, Alfred wanted to celebrate with a hike and a cupcake.Barbara says that they need Bruce to come back and be the person that they all need him to be before she leaves as well. 

Finally, we hear from Ric Grayson. The former Dick Grayson was another victim of Bane’s vendetta, getting shot in the head by the KGBeast in an attempt to further hurt Batman. Aside from his Flying Grayson memories and a few scant ones with Alfred and Bruce, he doesn’t remember his life as Nightwing, with the Titans or the rest of the Batfamily and that probably makes this book harder to swallow. Dick has always been the elder brother to each of them and truly is Batman’s voice of reason after Alfred, but Dick is gone. 

So Ric, knowing he needs to step up and say something to get Bruce to help himself, asks him to tell whatever story Dick Grayson might have if he were still around. Bruce then speaks up about a time where Dick found out that Alfred had been leaving flowers at the sight of the Waynes murder to celebrate the anniversary of their marriage where Bruce had been leaving flowers on the anniversary of their deaths. Dick tells Bruce that Alfred always wanted to tell him that their deaths had saved countless lives and even the world at times.

It’s grim and kinda dark, but in the grand scheme of things, Ric is right. Batman has given everything he can to the world under his mission of Justice and that never would have happened if the Waynes survived, just look at Batman: The Gift (Batman #45 - #47, 2018). In that timeline, the Waynes did survive and it was a nightmare world where crime was rampant, Dick was crazed Batman like Flashpoint Thomas Wayne and everything was just wrong. Ric may not have known all of tht, but he did know that Alfred was right and that Bruce needed to be strong for him.

Before Ric leaves, he hangs a picture on the bar wall while Tynion IV and Barrows convey the emotional impact of Ric’s act through four panels without dialogue. Bruce looks at the picture and not only can readers feel the tears swelling up in the corners of their eyes, but we almost feel as if Bruce is as well as he stars upon a picture of the core Batfamily with Alfred as the focus between them.

I’m not gonna lie, I don’t know if I’m emotionally ready to deal with a Batman future without Alfred. He’s always been such a faithful companion and foil to our dour hero and his passing has only made Batman that much darker. The cynic in me knows that DC Won’t keep him dead forever, especially with an incoming Crisis that may undo everything from the last four years of storytelling, but at the same time it might not. I think the idea to kill Alfred was a good one to create awesome moments like it did in this book, but who will take his place?

Could this really be Tim’s time to step away from the masks and go behind the scenes like Oracle did? Could Alfred’s daughter, Julia, see a return since she hasn’t been seen since I think All Star Batman in 2016? Will Lucius Fox actually stay in the position as he’s there now in Detective Comics? Who knows?

All that matters is the life of Alfred and the mark he left on our favorite characters.

Also, support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/TyTalksComics

[drjacobblack]

Dr. Jacob Black

Birth name: Jacob Kaleb Clayton

Attire: When among people in the day you will most likely see him in street clothes to blend in and not draw attention to himself. Perhaps a tv shirt or hoodie with jeans.

However when he is out as Dr. Black, normally with his lovely creation, you will see him sporting a black suit, a cane and a black mask. Sometimes he will also wear a top hat looking as though he stepped out of the 20's.

Jacob stands at around 5'10, he has a slender yet fit build, black hair & dark brown eyes.

PERSONALITY: seeing as he hasn't been the same since he got out of the assylum, but he was generally quiet, withdrawn and actually quite caring when it comes to family, whomever he lets in to be family.

Another side of him is ruthless, dark and heartless, doing what he feel he needs to in order to do what he feels he must.

He can be awkward at times and has two sides that fight between doing right or wrong.

Skills/Talents:

Brilliant and genius are words that have been used many times in his life, though he's never really been big in the muscles area, but what he lacks in brawn he makes up abundantly in brains.

He knows how to fight in a way that he can strike certain points on a persons body to disable them within moments. He knows the human body very well and has the speed and know how to fight almost anyone (in most cases) down

EQUIPMENT

He favors a cane that has multiple uses, being a custom cane, it made of pure silver with a hidden sword. it also has compressed gasses within that can go from knocking out someone, paralyzing them or even poisoning them

History:

Doctor Jacob Clayton

A.K.A. Doctor Black

Langford Institute... Jacob never belonged there, he had been put there against his will and without proper cause, at least that is what he kept trying to tell the doctors there, but of course no one believed him, or really cared, he was a free genie-pig for them and they couldn't care less rather or not he was sane, well all but one doctor... She did believe him and tried to get him released, but that never worked out and he never saw her again.

Lets go back some, to help you get a better understanding as to how Jacob K. Clayton, a once respectable and admired physics doctor and prodigy wound up in the Langford Institute.

Jacob grew up in a small town in Ireland to a couple who owned a small potato farm, they didn't have much but they had enough to live, but it was early on that the young couple first saw their first born was created for more than just farming potatoes, but in order to feed this bright child's intellect they would need money and resources that they just didn't have... So when one of their relatives who had moved to America came to visit, the couple saw their chance.

Stowing the young boy onto the ship back to the Americas, his cousin took him away from his homeland, his family, everything he had known in pursuit of a brighter future.

Jacob Clayton transformed into Jackson Davil, he was given a completely new identity which was hard for the young boy to grasp for a time, it wasn't explained to him why his parents sent him away, only that they said he would be able to really 'grow' without them which didn't make sense. What was life without family?

Young Jacob however did grow, more and more brilliant every time one turned around, though there was no day that went past that he didn't think of his parents, that he didn't wish to go home, and when his cousin got married to a very rich and abusive man, he wished to escape all the more.

Jacob won scholarships to many universities at the age of 13, extremely a

dvanced for his age it was harder for him because he had no friends and the only family he had, his cousin, was found dead in her basement... suicide they had ruled.

He was now completely alone and his now his new guardian, her abusive husband had complete control over his life and the man made sure it was a living hell.

As soon as Jacob turned 18 he ran off and took on the new identity Jacob Black and was found by a professor who referred him to a think tank where Jacob's talents were truly used. Unknowingly to Jacob that it was his abusive guardian who was pulling the strings.

Jacob felt as though he was in heaven... He had his free rein of projects, equipment, privacy and quiet, which at this point he had become accustomed too for the most part, though it was difficult still to be so alone, but that loneliness had a chance to change when a young woman and fellow think tanker offered an olive branch to the anti-social estranged young man, this young woman he was come to fall for and she for him, which didn't settle well with another member who had his shot with her but blew it several times.

Being the bigger man was more of Jacob's thing, and for the other member, he preferred the more petty route.

One day Jacob came to his work room and found authorities ravaging through his work, enraged by the sight he tried to stop them and was arrested on the spot, accused of creating a inhuman and terrorist fueled experiment. This wasn't true of course but the evidence was stacked against him and soon after he was consider to be clinically insane.

Over the years in the institute, Jacob tried to prove that he wasn't insane, but after a while he began to wonder if he was crazy, there was only one person in the institute; a doctor, who believed him which was really the only thing that kept him going. When the doctor who did believe him tried to get him released she disappeared and that was the last straw for Jacob.

Teaming up with another 'inmate' the two plotted an esca

pe, but not before new 'treatments' were established, treatments that caused a very adverse effect before he did escape. Jacob became diagnosed with did,  obtaining a new identity (or a few) within his own consciousness... Jacob was able to keep most the voices suppressed except one who seemed to convince him that he was there only to aid, slowly Jacob and the voice later to be named Kierson, quickly began their work to repay those who wronged him...

With the help of his most prized creation, Felony Black; a once fellow inmate at Langford, she is dedicated to Jacob and Jacob alone, him forever to be 'her doc' she has been the most successful creation.

Though he has had multiple subjects, none have or can surpass his little Felony... This proved to be quite so when Kierson took over completely, though in the mist of still working for her doc (Who she knew was not) she obeyed Keirson until it came to 'put away' her real doc, betraying Keirson she stole the doc who was trapped in his mind of his own body after Keir had successfully removed his consciousness from Jacobs and placed himself in a new body with His 'Nightingale', Keir's newest creation, by his side, Felony took doc and escaped back to earth one.

Now what is the fate of the Dark doctor? We shall see...

[shadowbringcr]

Talk about your favorite ships for Lycelle!

send me a topic to write a meta about my muse on

Putting this under a cut because it gets long and. I may or may not be shy. Also spoilers!

THANCRED. Everyone who has been to my Twitter at least once isn’t surprised by this.

As someone who started on Ul’dah Thancred was the first Scion she has ever met - and she has knowledge of his reputation, although it was something she didn’t pay mind to at the time. But it was during the Ifrit expedition where she started feeling something for him that was decidedly not platonic: even today she would still count her first experience with the primal as one of her weakest moments. It was Thancred that comforted her through those times despite his overwhelming guilt in failing her. Lahabrea possessing him was devastating for Lycelle, and saving Thancred have been her firstmost priority upon delving in the Praetorium.

They’ve been through a lot, going from casual friendship to something deeper. The world has made both of them bitter and cynical, but they have been able to support each other through it all. There is mutual admiration between them - while Thancred admires her strength and accomplishment, Lycelle admires his resilience and clever thinking. Sometimes they would playfully snark at each other, offer snide commentary to the comings and goings around them, or - Lycelle’s favorite - set off traps on purpose, much to Thancred’s annoyance.

The reason why their dynamic works is the fact that these two normally closed-off individuals are very much willing to be open with each other. They are each other’s confidant and comfort, especially in times where they feel weak - because they’re not afraid to be vulnerable when they are around. They trust each other to have each other’s back, no matter what the world throws at them. Lycelle also doesn’t mind voicing out her more negative thoughts with him around, such as her disgust for politics or weariness towards chores, because he’s someone who understands and someone who wouldn’t judge her for it.

Y’MHITRA. This one is unfortunately a bit lacking in material compared to the other people in this list by virtue of Not Being An MSQ Character, but Lycelle bonds really well with the Summoner instructor! In a way they are peas in a pod, researchers in the same field and posessing an intellect that rivals her sister. She was a great source of comfort at the times where the Scions were missing or whisked away.

Their first meeting was also the first steps of her current career - by Y’shtola’s recommendation was how they first met, as someone capable of learning the art of the Summoner as well as someone qualified of joining the Sons of Saint Coinach. Y’mhitra may be the closest friend Lycelle has outside of her duties as a Warrior of Light.

HAURCHEFANT. A love unrequited. I believe it’s a very common headcanon-verging-on-actual-canon that Haurchefant is someone who sounds very infatuated with the Warrior of Light. He admires them to no end. And while Lycelle sees him as a dear friend and in fact one of the few reasons why she decided to lend a hand to Ishgard in the end, she never held romantic feelings for him in the end.

The thing was she believed that the person he was in love with was one of the many who only see her as the persona she puts up in public - the heroic figure, strong and steady, an exemplary inspiration to all. But Heavensward happened to be one of her lowest points in her life, and she didn’t think she was worthy of that praise. It was innocent hero-worship, but hero-worship nonetheless, and she knew his opinion would drastically change once he realized that she was a mess barely keeping herself together.

Lycelle was very aware of his feelings, as unvoiced as they were, but she pretended not to see it because she didn’t want to break his heart. Unfortunately it is now too late to say anything, and she would never knew which side of herself Haurchefant truly loved.

EMET-SELCH. But it’s complicated, even when you don’t take her current Existential Crisis into consideration, and I’m not sure if I can accurately put these into words but I Will Try.

The thing is that Emet-Selch possesses a personality that she’s attracted to despite how much he is a pain to deal with. He’s someone she could match wits with, someone who was all too happy to reveal the truth to burning questions.  The initial plan was to take out of Urianger’s leaf and gather as much information as she could under the pretense of mutual benefit, but deep down she did want to be friends with Emet-Selch.

Of course, there are quuuuuuite a few problems that make such camaraderie hard to do. Such as, oh you know, the fact that he’s an Ascian bent to destroy the world she knew and sacrifice all of the inhabitants within it. And as much as she likes someone that’s just not something that she could abide to, and thus was their story condemned to be one between hero and villain.

And yet, if she could, she didn’t want to kill him. Remember that we once lived, he said - but how, exactly? Despite everything she felt like she didn’t learn enough still. How was she supposed to pen their legacy down in history with such bare records, when she had no memory of the past? It was not entirely out of kindness either, she didn’t feel like oblivion was an apt punishment for immortals who have caused so much conflict. Yet at the same time, it was because she wanted him to see what may come next - what she wanted for Emet-Selch was not an ending, but a new beginning.

She knows of his beliefs, of how he saw them as malformed and incomplete creatures incapable of being the new stewards of this world, and she wanted to challenge that belief - prove that he was wrong so hard that he feels it within every fibre of his being, accept the beauty of mankind…and then perhaps he might find peace.

I imagine their dynamic is something messy - sweet and gentle simply does not suit them, not even in defense of each other. They keep each other on edge. He has his expectations, and Lycelle being the stubborn ambitious person that she is she wants to fulfill those expectations and then some. And as strange as it is, the fact that they can be awful with each other (since they’re enemies) is an uplifting experience in Lycelle’s end.

Above all, his proposal for cooperation was something that intrigued her - for it was a collaboration unheard of, yet it was a path that promised so much potential. She truly believed it to be possible. She does want to keep him in her life.

[thebeethathums]

Observers - 42

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Warnings: Angry John?

You passed out on your couch within minutes of getting home, pausing only to pull off your shoes and your white button down so you were left in a tight white tank top and your black trousers that were two sizes too big. Upstairs, John refused to speak to Sherlock, worried that he would start yelling and end up waking you, and quickly went to bed himself, leaving Sherlock to flop down on the couch to think, he could sleep later. He certainly had a lot to think about given everything that had happened and started with the most trivial to him: the fact that Moriarty’s name had come up. This wouldn't be the first time it had but, since the pool incident, his presence had been suspiciously lacking. Still, it wasn’t surprising that he’d been behind the stolen Monet, unfortunate as it was that his pawn had been connected to you. That brought him to his next problem on his list- your friend. There was no way Timothy could have survived after that much blood loss- a fact that upset you. He knew that social protocol in this situation would be to comfort you but the idea of that made him uncomfortable, it was too touchy-feely for him. That being said, he still wanted to try in some capacity since seeing you sullen and sad not only bothered him, but it was a distraction for you from things that needed your attention. He’d have to come up with some way to cheer you up or comfort you that didn’t involve all the touchy-feely stuff- he could leave all of that... unpleasant part of it to John.

He moved on to the next problem on his scale of increasing importance- himself. He was beginning to feel conflicted about whether he should continue his experiment with love.

On the one hand, he had been more or less right in his original conclusion about it being a weakness- he was miserable when you were gone, willing to put himself in danger for your well being, and so annoyingly fretful. It was only a matter of time before it started to interfere with his work and he could not have that. Not to mention the fact that his subconscious need for contact with you was getting demandingly strong and slightly unpredictable. In addition, there was the way he'd felt so empty both times you’d left his slightly awkward embrace in the Gallery and then the kiss… He hadn’t actually intended to kiss you in front of John but as soon as he came in contact with you, it was like he had needed to do it- like there was no other option. He never wanted to see you hurt again. Then, on the other hand, there was the blissful high that he got from just being around you. Being around you alone almost entirely canceled out all the weaknesses as the benefits brought a great deal of strength to the table. Your intellect and skill set perfectly paired with his, making you the ideal partner on cases. You could tell what he was thinking just by looking at him and vice versa, allowing for efficient communication, and everything about you was intriguing, which kept his mind busy. On top of all that, you made him happy- usually only cases made him happy.  The physical contact, as annoyingly unintended as it sometimes was, could send him to a high that he previously only thought possible from things like cigarettes and drugs. Thinking over his options, he decided that he would continue. He was the great Sherlock Holmes after all and he finished what he started no matter what... besides even entertaining the idea that he part himself from you made him feel sick to his stomach. With that settled, he came to his two most pressing problems- John and Mycroft. They were equally worrisome. He needed to know what Mycroft wanted with you. The theories in his head were not good, including that he was interested in you himself, he was plotting to meddle in order to keep him concentrated on cases and weakness free, or he wanted something from you. It was something he was going to have to do some more looking in to. And then there was John. It was painfully obvious that he was not happy with the whole thing. He was protective of you, for good reason after what had happened to you before, and Sherlock was aware he wasn’t the ideal candidate to be with you romantically. The more he thought about it, the messier it got, and he finally decided just to do as you'd asked and deal with it in the morning, meaning now he could finally get some rest. You woke up the next morning to roll off the couch and groggily grabbed a box of cereal before opening your fridge to find it empty. You were supposed to go to the grocery on your way home from work yesterday, something that clearly never happened. Trudging up the stairs with your cereal under one arm and bowl and spoon in hand, you knocked on your brother’s door. John opened it in a matter of seconds and you gave him a sheepish, slightly groggy grin, “I don’t have any milk.” He completely ignored your words, eyes going wide before he grabbed your arm and pulled you inside where the light was better. “Bloody hell, (F/n). Your neck… it’s worse than I thought,” he worried, tilting your head from side to side so he could fully see your bruises before stating firmly, “You are going to take something for the pain and the swelling. No arguments.” You pouted at him even though you knew he wasn’t going to change his mind and then let out a raspy sigh, “Can I at least have my cereal first?” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple, “Yes, of course, you can. Come on, I’ll get you some milk.” Yawning, you followed him to the kitchen, got your milk, and ate your cereal leaning against the counter while he looked you over with a frown. Your hair was messy from sleep, your black bra showed through your tight, white tank top, and your pants were only barely clinging to your hips, leaving a small section of bare skin between the two articles of clothing. He pursed his lips about to tell you to go change when Sherlock shuffled in, ruffling a hand through his hair, and you gave him a small grin, “Mornin’ Sherly.” Still not fully awake, He blinked at you a couple of times, taking in your appearance, and then went the slightest shade of pink before grumbling, “Morning,” as he leaned over you to get a mug from the cabinet above your head. He groped for the blue mug but it wasn’t where he normally put it and his pause made you tilt your chin back to look up at him, “Try the second shelf. John probably cleaned it.” After shooting a glare in John's general direction, he offered you a small smile, pulling it down when he found it where you’d said. He let his free hand fall to your hip to gently push you out of the way of the stove, his thumb lightly stroking at the bare skin there before moving away to continue with his tea. Neither of you noticed that John had gone a very interesting shade of red until he yanked his knit jumper over his head and shoved Sherlock toward the door as he tossed it at you, “You- out and you- put that on.” “But, John- my tea.” You tugged your brother’s jumper over your head happily. You liked his jumpers and it smelled like him so it wasn’t really a bad thing in your book, and then offered, “I’ll make you some, Sherlock.” “No, you most certainly will not,” your brother spun to seethe at you. You held up your hands in defense as you shrugged and John gave Sherlock another shove towards the living room, making him leave before he turned back to you, “What do you think you’re doing?” “Well, I was eating cereal but-“ “Don’t start with me, (F/n). I’m not in the mood.” You sighed, “I don’t know… it just sort of happened.” He narrowed his eyes at you and you hurriedly added, “I swear I didn’t intend for it happen, John. I don’t even really know what it is… I mean it’s nice but I think he’s more curious than anything else and-”

This had the opposite effect of what you'd intended. John spun on his heel and went out to the living room, Sherlock moving to stand as he walked in to yell at him, “You’re curious?! You bastardly twat! That’s my baby sister! You couldn’t have found someone else to mess around with just to figure things out? You know what she’s been through! The last thing she needs is to be toyed with by someone who doesn’t love her.” He was absolutely livid at this point but Sherlock was calm, “It was an experiment, John, but-“ A fist connecting with the side of his jaw cut off the thought and he stumbled back as John shouted, “My sister is not an experiment, Sherlock. She’s a human being with feelings. Not that you’d know much about that, you sociopathic machine!”

@team-free-sherlock @multifandom-ramblings @madshelily @severusminerva @yes-but-theyre-my-dorks @smitemewiththysherlock @not-fandom-addicted @unknownwonder @deducingdevil @aviien @mrsfrankensteinsworld @lolamurphy @bakerstreethound @musical-doll-x @protectteamfreewill @delightful-pirate @lilcutekittykat @broke-and-overwhelmed @adri1ii @turtle-at-the-disco @fanfictionsilove

[deathbyvalentine]

Prompts

Interview With A Vampire

Oliver practiced his smile in the mirror. His eyes sparkled, dimples appeared and the effect was almost enchanting. Almost. There was no getting around how prominent his fangs looked. His smile dropped. Did he risk being unfriendly? Or would a smile simply look like a concealed threat? He hated that he had to think of this, analyse his smile. But it was part and parcel of being a predator. The fangs didn’t go away just because your bad intentions did. And for the most part, his bad intentions had. He was a proud vegetarian and had been for almost fifty years, with only one or two messy slip ups here and there. Killing, ironically, was in his blood but it didn’t have to be in his mind. The logical part of his brain, the intellect and (he chose to believe) who he really was was repulsed at the idea of killing humans. He would have abstained from animals if he could without dying of starvation.  The university made it easy. He could fill his days (read; nights) with books and study, the quiet age of the college walls providing him with an odd sort of comfort that most other places couldn’t provide. Perhaps it was just being around something that had stood since before he had been born. Nothing had changed much. A lot of Oxford colleges could have been snapshots of previous centuries, preserved perfectly. He could fit in with no difficulty. His odd speech or old fashioned manners could be equally attributed to the natural eccentricity of an academic as his immortality. 

He wanted to offer that safety, that comfort to other vampires looking for a place to exist. He wished he could offer it to every one that came knocking at the doors, eyes red and desperate. But for some reason, money still existed and it still ruled their lives, which was so frustrating it made him grind his teeth. There were godlike creatures in the world, unliving, undying, and they were still at the mercy of something as uncouth as coin.

He smiled again, concentrating so the mirror actually showed him a reflection rather than cold empty space. It was an interview with a candidate he was preparing for. He could be himself.

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Purple

The bathroom again, the sink splattered with fresh dye. It was a familiar scene, one repeated every six months or so. The sink still held evidence of pink and blue, stained deep into the definitely-not-real-porcelain. Astrid stood in front of the mirror in just a bra and bed shorts, a pair of plastic gloves on her hands and a bottle in hand. Her hair was already saturated with it, though for the most part she had managed to avoid her skin. She was almost a pro at it after all.

It was the first time she had been purple. Her pink phase had lasted so long. Her blue only a year or so. It was time for a change. Purple was pink and blue together, herself and the Saints joined, no longer jostling for position. It was also something completely new, something that was just hers. She would enter the House of Jung as Violet, a new identity carved out by nobody but herself. Nobody had told her to want this, it was something she discovered herself.

She had an image of herself in the future that she wanted. Older, wiser, still beautiful. Running her dreamweaver cell, looking after the people in it. Not worrying about money or food or the Syndicate. Not relying on drugs to get through the day. Not giving herself to anyone that seemed like they might want her. Choosing who to sleep with because she wanted them, not because she wanted to be wanted. 

It was hard to imagine Syn with her. She didn’t want to think about what that meant, either about the future or about her relationship. Maybe she just didn’t believe Syn would be faithful - and if she wasn’t, they were done. Really and truly. She believed that now. No second guessing. No take backs. She was worth more than broken promises. She peeled the gloves back and tossed them in the bin. She couldn’t wait to see what the new her was like. She hoped she liked her.

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Silence 

What she liked most about night time was the quiet. Of course, in the suburbs of London nothing was ever truly quiet, but it was quieter. All the adults were asleep, as were the few children there was too. With her bare feet on lino and polished pine, she didn’t make a sound. There was something delicious about exploring at night, how moonlight gilded everything and made even the most familiar objects precious. All the same doors were still locked, the same spaces still open but it felt forbidden all the same. The long corridors stretched ahead and lead to unknown places.

It made her more aware of her body too. The catch of air in her chest, the heartbeat in her ears, the soft whispering of her hair loose from the constraints of plaits. Sometimes she felt or heard a deep rumbling darkness in her chest and she didn’t know if it was her or IT, so she ignored it, focusing instead on her thighs touching each other or the soft click of her teeth. 

She tried to be back in bed by the time the sun came up, catching a few hours of rest before she had to get up to start the day. The sunrise didn’t interest her much. Sure, it made everything beautiful, but where was the mystery? The night had secrets. Some the cult scratched the surface of, but some others too, some she didn’t have the words for and couldn’t name. That’s what made it so interesting. 

She wondered if her god was the one that curbed her sleep. That lead her to wander the halls restlessly, like the Minotaur or his prey. Sometimes she felt like there were eyes on her, she had always been told IT was watching. She couldn’t have been very interesting to watch - where was the appeal? The cult often said that mortals couldn’t understand IT’s ways, that it was unknowable. Well, she was unknowable too. Maybe like called to like. She settled back into bed and did not sleep without dreams. ________________________________________________________________

Catherine’s Eternity

She raced up the steps of the ruined tower, for once grateful about the lack of air in her lungs - she could run and not be breathless. Reaching the top, she only just managed to thump into a dubious battlement. The wind was fierce up here, wrestling the ribbon from her curls and sending it over and away. She laughed, letting her gaze follow it until it met the grey, raging sea. She loved it here, she loved the rocks and the salt and the dim sepia hue that pervaded everything. It was miserable and it was beautiful in it’s dank melancholy. She held out her arms, feeling the wind press against her, so eager to send her tumbling over the edge.

However, it was not the wind that embraced her a moment later, though it was just as cold as it. Cassius had followed her up at a rather more leisurely pace, seeing no need to rush. What she didn’t know is how he had stood for a moment, at the top of the crumbling stairs, and simply watched her for a moment, the raw almost fierce joy she was taking in the view, the world.

On the walk back to school, it started raining. Heavy, thick drops. The wind caught them and added to their power, drenching them both within minutes. They would get back to school and Catherine would lead him to her room, dry each other with warm towels, cocoon themselves in her repaired sanctuary. 

This would happen forever, over and over, a hundred small details changing, but the essentials staying the same. The sea, the school, Cassius and Cathy. 

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The rose realises it is an instrument of war

Grace did not know she was beautiful. This was obvious. The way she moved and talked and laughed betrayed the fact that she clearly held very little thought about how she looked at all. Other girls knew they had to perform for their keep - be it the glossy lips of the popular girls or the smudged eyeliner of the goths, even the neon stripes that daubed the cheeks of Klub Kids. It marked her out without drawing attention to what exactly it was that was different.

Of course boys responded to it. They coveted the thing that they could change. They could be the one to tell her she was beautiful, be the one to make her realise what girlhood meant in this world. Kiss her, covet her, leave their mark upon her in a way they could not with girls who walked in society. The entire fantasy would be ruined if she knew how she was. She had to stick to her lines and stick to her role, the Rapunzel in need of saving, the princess marrying the pauper. They thought that because she could not pretend, what they saw was what they got. They liked what they saw. Who wouldn’t?

They didn’t see her down in the tunnels. Her chest fluttering as she breathed in shallow, poisoned breaths. The thrum of her heart that was balancing on the impossible line of fearful and excited. The red flush in her cheeks, the glitter in her eyes, the surety that held her up when her spine would not. She had wrapped the necklace so tightly in her hand the chain left red welts in her otherwise unblemished skin. Dirt and sludge and gore had touched her shoes, her socks, one hand almost black from trailing it along the corrupted wall. 

They didn’t see the new mask she carved out for herself. Of blood and ash and paint, found, not made. The voice of a god that echoed in her head. No, she was not herself. She was something better. A vessel, a hand, an extension. Why would she choose to be herself when she could be so much more? Not a girl, not a child, not anything people were so quick to decide on for her. Not something so easily swayed or marked or claimed. She still didn’t know she was beautiful. She also didn’t know she was frightening.

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you promised you’d keep my secret

you’re at a girl’s house and she’s put a red scarf over the lampshade. everything is rose and you can’t figure out if it’s meant to be romantic or if you’re reading too much into things. her room is nicer than yours, she had a dresser, a real adult one with an oval mirror and you suspect it is filled with make up. you don’t know how to put anything more than mascara on but she does. she manages to make herself like a doll every day, porcelain, precious. but not today. because it’s just you two. no school, no boys, no more-popular-than-you-girls. so her lips are pink not red, her eyebrows a little too fair and you can see her freckles. you love her best like this. silly, young, unpainted? maybe. you do love her when you sit on the edge of the swimming pool and she comes up for air, brown hair slicking to her skin like a selkie. or when she’s been running, her cheeks red and sweaty, chest heaving. you think it’s probably more because you’re alone.

she’s more herself when it’s the two of you. you don’t begrudge her this. being a teenager is hard. it never really occurs to you that you’re a teenager too. you excuse the others as if from a great distance away, your own childhood safely tucked away, happening where you can’t even see it. 

anyway, you love her best when you’re alone. when she shares her white earphones with you and you singalong. when you babysit her little sister, excited at the chance to sleep in the living room with the leather sofas and big tv and close to the kitchen. when she talks about manga. when she lies beside you and you don’t dare to touch her. you worry she can hear your heart, that the whole city can. she can’t. never did, never does. this love you carry if not to your grave, your adulthood, which is basically the same thing.  you never tell her. even when you’ve been enmeshed in your own lives long enough it would be a cute anecdote, something you could laugh about. you don’t want to laugh about it. fourteen year old you did not cherish many things but they cherished this. you want to keep it. let yourself have this one thing. let yourself love, never mocked, never the opportunity for the air to get in and rot it. you don’t talk anymore. which is fine, really. time and distance prised you apart. the memory got to stay. now when you think of her, you still get to hear the echoes of your heart.  _____________________________________________________________

It’s your legacy but never open it

My mother killed herself when I was nine. I was diagnosed with depression when I was eleven. i never got the chance to ask her when she realised she was batshit, but i suspect it would have been around the same time. I don’t trust our family’s hormones, almost as much as i don’t trust our genes.  We have what medical forms call ‘hereditary risk’ and what I call ‘prior form’. My family tree is a litany of a therapist’s wet dream. Uncle Henry who stepped in front of a moving car, breaking one leg and fracturing three ribs. He said the idea just popped into his head and he couldn’t think of a decent reason why he shouldn’t. So he did. Third cousin Edith who eat only plaster and brick dust for two months. Grandma Elizabeth who frequently spoke to fairies, leftovers from her childhood that never went away. You get the picture. After what happened to mum everyone had their eye on me and it turned out they were right to. My father caught it early. An alarmingly sane man, he was put on high alert when she passed. My brother seemed to get through it all alright but I became ‘unnatural’ in Grandma Elizabeth’s words. Granted, she thought I might be a changeling but she wasn’t wrong. It crept up slowly, like ivy smothering a tree. One day, the world was dark. Luckily, the reason why was instantly within reach, instantly understandable through a lens of chemicals and analysed childhood trauma. It surprised nobody, not even myself. It was then when I really considered opening it I suppose. No, not a vein, haha, very funny. The letter. I’m not sure I mentioned but I was the one to find my mother’s body. I wouldn’t have, had I not had a falling out with my then-best friend and stomped the great distance of ‘three doors down’ to cut our playdate short. I shall spare you the details. The important thing is that there were two letters by her body. One addressed to my father and one addressed to me. In an act of canniness I can’t really explain all these years on, I shoved the one addressed to me down my shirt. It crinkled next to my skin reassuringly. I kept it there even as I walked down the hallway and back out the front door to start screaming. Since then it became a talisman of sorts. I kept it inside my pillowcase, carefully removed during laundry days. I never read it. Her last words to me were in there, tucked up tight. If I didn’t read it, I could imagine what it said. Most days I imagined gothic heroinesque plight, pages and pages of soliques on the futility of life and how she thought she was doing the right thing by dying. Other days, when I was less generous, I believed it could be a plea for my forgiveness, which I could grant or not grant as I saw fit. After I got diagnosed, pills rattling inside me, I fancied it was a heads up about the entire affair, a last ditch effort to warn me of the misery still to come. i liked that thought. It made my depression another line tethering me to her. As I grew up those threads were harder and harder to find. My father eventually managed to heal from his grief and fill the family house with other joys (mostly poor carpentry). My brother could barely remember her. My other relatives mostly tutted before going on to eagerly inform me about whatever newest development had happened on our magical tour of psychiatry that was all family reunions. I did not particularly look like her but at least I could be mad like her.  Years on, I still haven’t opened it. From fear, mostly. The problem is with fantasy is that reality has to live up to it. And how is a dead woman supposed to live up to anything at all? I suspect it’s meant to be through me but I’m not up to the job. An echo will never have the same power as a new note sung. I’m not even my own disaster - I’m hers, a generation later. I don’t know how to fuck up uniquely. Perhaps I can fool myself, if I never read this. I can pretend her shadow is my own.

_____________________________________________________________

one by one, the lights went out

She wasn’t sure when Thiel left her. At some point she simply noticed that it was her, Blaine’s body and IT. Apparently sensing her intent not to move, the corridors leading away from the centre had flickered out, one by one, until this room was all that was left, dim and wanting. Careful not to jostle Blaine’s head which was resting on her lap, Grace’s hands moved up to her necklace. It rattled softly as she undid it, the gold chain pooling in her palm. She tossed it to the side as if it was simply a piece of trash. What did she need it for now? For the first time, she noticed her shadow was odd. It pooled around her, matching the pool of blood from Blaine and from her own head that surrounded her. Shadows and blood. It’s what everything came down to. IT was still on the ceiling, watching her carefully. She had done everything it had wanted. It had been her that killed Blaine, her that tipped him over and cracked his head open. She had finally managed a sacrifice.

She felt the dark wrap around her, in comfort or possession she wasn’t sure. Unlike Alex or Lucas, she hadn’t been promised or blackmailed. She hadn’t been threatened with reward or punishment. Which meant there was no script for this bit. No dynamic for her and IT. She suspected that nobody in the Church had managed to get this close. There was only her, high priestess and now, resident to the dark. She wouldn’t be leaving. The only way she could stay upright, not lose her mind from grief or terror was by staying with IT. The only thing alive that still loved her.

She leaned into the dark, closing her eyes, feeling the pain in her head, her hands, her thighs. This place had two things in abundance - peace and pain. She didn’t know which she needed more. Maybe she never would. But here she didn’t have to make a decision. Here, in her cage of many rooms, she was safe.

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City of Sirens - Cassiopia 

Nobody fucked with her, right? She was the girlfriend of an Olympian, so tough she could break teeth, so angry she could break glass. She wore leather, she shot straight and she never met a drink she didn’t like. She had scars in six different places and she was pretty sure there was still shrapnel in her shoulder.

She was still frightened of Zeus. She understood wild, she understood power and she understood teeth and fighting and clawing to the top. She looked at the perfectly groomed man in the suit and could not reconcile it with all the things she knew he had done. He was a monster but a hidden one. He smiled with warmth, not just to flash his teeth. He always said the right thing. He had a firm handshake and nobody saw the trail of bodies behind him.

Almost as bad was his wife. Once, Zeus had flirted with her, despite her being Artemis’s. He had put a hand on her elbow, leaned in and said something heavy with meaning. In that moment, it wasn’t him she was afraid of. She knew what Hera did to the women Zeus took a liking to.

At the party, she was hypnotic. Her beauty was as if it had been carved from glass, her delicacy and the way she held Zeus perfectly as if she was always posing for a portrait. Which she was of course. The Family liked portraits. Cass had watched Artemis pose for a hundred of the damn things. She knew she wasn’t going to last when she didn’t appear in a single one. Enjoy it while she could. Take everything she wanted. Cut and run before the piano hit.

___________________________________________________________

Spell jars

He should have guessed a witch had moved in. The forgotten back garden, overgrown and wild was slowly being tamed. But not in the fussy, prescribed way so many of the terraces around here opted for, all fences and peonies, blue slug pellets sprinkled like confetti. Here, there was a section right in the middle, left uncut but scattered with wildflower seeds. The left side of the garden was pulled up, little labels stuck on popsicle sticks, stating what herbs, vegetables and whatever else she was growing. The right side was trimmed and left plain, for reasons that mystified him.

Oh well, he thought. He didn’t pretend to understand the whims of humans. He could see no anti-mole sentiment in her gardening ideology so resolved to continue his comfortable existence in the soil beneath the garden. It was not a hard choice to make. He was naturally inclined towards peace.

It was a Tuesday when he encountered the first. Right side of the garden, about three foot down. It wasn’t large. He could hold it in his two paws. It was a small, clear jar with a cork in the top. Inside there were shredded leaves, a few small stones that were pink in colour, what appeared to be ash and a small slip of paper, rolled up tight. He couldn’t help it - his mole nose twitched, trying to figure out if the leaves were tasty or not-tasty. The cork prevented the scent reaching even his most delicate nose. With his sharp little teeth and a lot of determination, he uncorked it. 

There was a pop, a flash and a fizzle. The scent of citrus filled the small alcove he had carved out. But it was more than that. Something else had come out of the jar. A feeling of warmth filled him from nose to tail, making him shiver with pleasure. It felt like every summer day he had ever loved - not just in sensation. His mood lifted too, every worry and care melting away like butter on toast. He thoughtfully chewed one of the leaves (orange), lost in the simple feeling of enjoyment and brightness that dazzled.

He was not a stupid mole. He knew that clearly the jar had done something, something unexplainable. He knew the new lady of the house or perhaps another human had buried it. He knew he probably wasn’t supposed to find it (humans rarely factor in moles into their plans, unless they were his nemesis, farmers). He also knew that this was a wonderful experience and one he was interested in replicating.

From then on, he opened every jar his grubby pars could land on. Some were tiny vials, some were mason jars that he had to use his entire body to open. Once he had to bite through the safety seal, startling himself with the metallic crunch as it popped. He felt something different every time. In one instance, he was filled with so much confidence, he hissed at a fox that came snuffling around one of his hills. Another made calm wash over him like cool water. Not all of them were so pleasant. Rage occured, impotent and burning. He simmered in his set for a week before he could talk to any of his extended family or even his hedgehog friend. He wept once for two hours, his mostly-sightless eyes filled with tears. He kept taking them though, hoarding the opened jars in a room he had dug especially. He was becoming a mole of the world, collecting experiences without ever leaving his beloved garden. He understood a little more what it was like to be human and what the woman in the big house above was going through.

So he made a jar for her, to repay her for all she had given him without ever knowing it. The first layer was dirt from where the most worms lived - for nutrients and growth. Then dandelion roots, shredded thin so she would always survive. Lastly, his precious apple seed, lovingly sealed in the jar, cork forced in clumsily. He left it on her doorstep in the dead of night, under the full moon (this was when her jars usually appeared so he supposed it was correct). He wouldn’t get to see her open it. But then, she never saw him open hers. It seemed fair somehow. As above, so below, in all things. He slept soundly that night, surrounded by glass and treasure. 

[rivalsofnycupdates]

“You should never be surprised when someone treats you with respect, you should expect it.”  

■ ABOUT. ■

name: Domino Jackson age: forty-seven occupation: Lead Informant gender: cis-female pronouns: she/her sexuality: pansexual

■ HISTORY. ■

Domino grew up in Texas as the youngest in a family of boys, and it’s that simple fact of her childhood that pretty much sums her up today. Growing up under the mercy of people stronger than her, feeling like the outsider of a boy’s club whose members had unprincipled loyalty, and still being empathetic enough to know when any one of them’s pride was hurt created the woman with quick reflexes, unapologetic assertiveness, the desire to be stronger than any adversary, and the ability to manipulate anyone through pure emotional intellect. At every turn there’d be a heavy hand ready to yank her ponytail or push her down, all under the guise of sibling playfulness. She would cry to her father and beg him to keep her at his side protected, and for a while he did. However, at a certain age he cut her off mid-whimper stating she’d do best to learn to hit back instead of relying on authority. Maybe it was the seriousness of his tone—that which could have been likened to a threat—or maybe she was smart enough to see the longevity that option promised, but it became the proverb she lived by.

Her father went on teach her how to fight. They bonded deeply in those empty practice arenas with some of their tightest hugs being formed by padded gloves. As far she’s concerned, her father was one of  few men who really knew how to love a woman. Unlike the men who want to subject women to their wills and/or believe loving them is to keep them ignorant therefore weak, her father equated love with empowerment,. He used those boxing lessons to teach her traits of dominance, strength, patience, and strategy, and she held even tighter onto them after his passing, having earned enough assured ability to smack sense into her brothers when they lacked it as well as the sharpened aptitude for learning other various fighting styles. Think of it, an itty-bitty thing like her smacking around guys twice her weight, drawing blood with padded hands, chewing mouth guards to distort her masochistic smile—it’s amazing that was just one side of her.

Her mother had always had a lot to say as well. Unlike her father, her mother’s advice was a thousand times more powerful than any fist. She spoke to Domino capacity for compassion. She said her deep emotional understanding of people could help her gauge them, and if she could gauge people she could understand them, and if she could understand them she could manipulate them into treating her right instead of using force. She also taught her daughter the secret of ego, and how death is the only thing people really fear, rather it be the death of their title, the death of their certainty, or the death of their physical body. That unknown, that which most people dread and that which burdened her about her own father’s passing, is nothing to be afraid of her mother assured her. It is simply the next step of existence wherein which her mother promised they would all see her father again. With this in mind, Domino never let herself think her fists were the only resort, and by the time her mother got too old to get in between her children’s physical altercations, Domino had developed a relationship with each of her brothers that included mutual respect and emotional understanding. Finally, Domino had learned how to weaponize her pure emotional intellect, transmuting her weakness into niche power.

Now, there are only a few explanations for why she got caught up in the Quantum Devils and didn’t just go into professional fighting or politics. One of them is the fact that a single-parent household wasn’t the most stable financially. As a result of this, it became very obvious to Domino that someone with her specific set of skills could make a lot more money dirty than clean. Once she got dirty, her reputation started preceding her and Tubbs reached out to her himself to invite her to join the Devils. She needed to take care of herself like her father taught her and Tubbs, unlike many of her other bosses, didn’t need to be manipulated into respecting her. So, she accepted the offer to be a part of the gang, witnessed the change in leadership, and carried her allegiance over to the New York charter where she has only gotten better with time.

■ WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON? ■

The Devil’s have given her more than she could ever repay, so she is dedicated to them. Making the move to NYC proved that. She’s been here since the chapter began and has loved it ever since. She finds herself regarding members as more and more like her family and enjoys what both the members and the city bring out of her. These days, she has had to use her fists a lot less. She’s developed relationships with people that make retrieving important information for the gang easier if not enjoyable, and those who aren’t so social luckily don’t need to be told what her leather Men of Mayhem patch means.

■ KEEP THIS AWAY FROM YOUR ENEMIES ■

There was a particular season when her mother’s health was poor and she was continuously racking up hospital bills only Domino could afford to pay for. Domino pulled every string she could think of. She conducted drug sales, bartended and waitressed at Moonlight, and, in a final desperate act, shot one video for Yang. However, something about the woman and the entire thing just didn’t feel right. She told Yang to delete it, for she would find another source of income. Yang never released it, but Domino not entirely sure she deleted it either. If the video ever gets out, Domino has made it quite clear that she will resort to the worst type of revenge. This remains her mentality despite knowing a reaction like that would surely put her at odds with the Devils entirely.

■ RELATIONSHIPS. ■

■ Thomas Rexton: Thomas and Domino are the oddest friends. Despite him being particularly mean, Domino likes him and tends to connect with him when she can. They sometimes get drunk together and tell stories of the recent business they might have had to take care of.

■ Genevieve Alter: Domino has been poaching the young one to join the Devils instead of the Royals. She sees a lot of herself in them and would love the opportunity to pass down some of her lessons.

■ Margot Yang: Domino doesn’t entirely dislike Margot, she just finds her morally ambiguous. This leads moreso to distrust than dislike, and she tries to make that clear without saying much to the woman at all.

■ CONNECTIONS. ■

■ Eduardo Vargas > Fling

■ Lena Flores > Friend

■  Anthony Williams > Close Friend

Domino Jackson is a TAKEN character and is portrayed by Taraji P. Henson who’s FC IS NON-NEGOTIABLE.

[dfroza]

Love is an act of rebellion toward the outside world of control

that tends to go against its truth, in the fear of man and its bullying lie, when there is no fear in Love that is always True. there is only pure reverence and respect in Love. only Light.

in Love we find pure equality amongst men and women of all skin colors, despite the tragic History of hate that some people entertain. the world is insane and it certainly isn’t (yet) our “Home”

and we are called to be courageous in our stand on Love and its truth of rebirth as revealed by the Spirit of our beautiful mysterious Creator

(this is the True bravery of the heart that is founded upon grace)

and yes, natural life on earth isn’t easy. the world can be a depressed and anxious place to be in, hard to manage sometimes. hard to deal with all the emotions and its tragedies that occur. and some people have chosen to escape its madness, sadly by ending their own life. a dear friend of mind did so back in ‘95

but that isn’t the answer to life’s sadness.

and we certainly need to cling to hope while living in a temporary world in a temporal and imperfect body that ages with the passing of time. and so the hope of “Home” is vital then. a vital sign of life in the heart and its rebirth (inside, Anew)

track #6 from Down on the Upside (‘96) in a music video that depicts breaking free from the thought control of others

A point about having faith as opposed to fear in a set of posts written and shared on Facebook by John Parsons:

The emotion of fear profoundly affects the way the brain processes images and messages. Fear colors the way we see and hear things. And since the mind and body are intricately interconnected, fear is the root cause of many physiological problems such as heart disease, high blood pressure, clinical depression, and other ailments. Indeed, left unchecked, fear can be deadly...

Most of our negative emotions come from fearful thoughts, including anger, frustration, and rage. On a spiritual level, fear and worry can cause people to question God’s love, to doubt His promises, and so on. The devil knows that frightening people causes them to be unsettled, off-balance, and therefore vulnerable to all sorts of sickness, manipulation, and deception. Living in fear is a form of slavery (Heb. 2:15).

Logicians call illegitimate appeals to fear "argumentum ad baculum," or the “appeal to the stick.” When someone plays on your fears, it is wise to discern whether there is any basis in reality for the supposed threat, or if the appeal is simply a rhetorical scare tactic intended to persuade (coerce) you to accept some sort of conclusion. Unscrupulous people (such as advertisers, political groups and dictators) regularly use fear to manipulate public opinion, of course, and they are only too glad to tell you exactly what you should fear. They are delighted to prey upon your anxieties and then offer you their supposed “remedy.”

The war for truth began in the Garden of Eden, when Satan lied to Eve by saying that she wouldn’t die if she disobeyed God (Gen. 3:4). Satan cunningly played on Eve’s fear of being deceived to persuade her to disobey. Fear, then, is the emotional center of sin and the opposite of faith. The fearful are referred to as the “unbelieving” and those who “love and make a lie” (Rev. 21:8, 22:15).

God repeatedly tells us not to be afraid – not of man, nor of war, nor of tribulation, nor of various plagues, yea, nor even of death itself (Rom. 8:35-39). Indeed, one of the most frequently occuring commandments in Scripture is simply al-tirah, “Be not afraid.”

But how do we overcome our fear? Simply by wholeheartedly trusting that God is with us... The LORD will never leave nor forsake us, even if we are faced with difficult circumstances. The antidote to fear is heartfelt faith in God’s love (1 John 4:18). God saves us from our fears (Psalm 34:4, 2 Tim. 1:7). When we trust that God personally cares for us, we find comfort and courage to face life without fear. [Hebrew for Christians]

King Solomon wrote, “The fear of the LORD (יִרְאַת יְהוָה) adds days [to life], but the years of the wicked will be cut short” (Prov. 10:27). These “added days” of life include the appointed times and seasons (i.e., the moedim) when the veil of “everydayness” is lifted and we can glimpse the sacred. Living in dissonance with God’s will yields days that are shortened - by vanity, by dissipation, and by despair. And what good are length of days when they are filled with emptiness and illusion? Fearing God and keeping his commandments is the “end of the matter” (סוֹף דָּבָר) and the “whole duty” of our lives (Eccl. 12:13).

“The fear (anxiety) of man (חֶרְדַּת אָדָם) is a snare, but whoever trusts in the LORD will be made safe” (Prov. 29:25). The fear that mankind engineers is a trap intended to shorten life, but the fear of the LORD (yirat Adonai) is life-giving and healing. Every day God makes miracles for people of which they are unaware. God didn’t create the universe and then remove Himself from its care: Yeshua sustains all things by the Word of His power and in Him all things “subsist” - τὰ πάντα ἐν αὐτῷ συνέστηκεν (Col. 1:17). Living in the light of God’s Presence reveals the daily bread that comes from Heaven, but those who refuse the truth find no lasting sustenance for the world to come... We all must believe that God is making miracles for us to live and grow in this age; otherwise we are not living in faith. [Hebrew for Christians]

2.26.20 • Facebook

Shalom friend... Do you sometimes have trouble trusting God? Do you wrestle with fear, anxiety, or worry? Does an inexplicable dread or sense of hopelessness sometimes oppress you? Do you secretly wonder what's wrong with you - and whether you are truly saved, after all? Please hang on. Doubting and questioning are often a part of the journey of faith, and we don't have to be afraid of our questions, concerns, and difficulties... Being full of "certainty" is not the same as being full of faith, after all, since many sincere people are sincerely self-deceived, and many people experience fear and trembling despite their faith. There is so much we simply do not know, and it is dishonest to pretend otherwise. God knows your heart, and he knows your secret fears. Thankfully, there is a special prayer included in the Scriptures for those times when we feel especially insecure: "Lord, I believe; help thou my unbelief..." (Mark 9:24) Here we bring our (lack of) faith to God for healing.

We should not be scandalized that we sometimes struggle with our faith. After all, Yeshua constantly tested his disciples: “Do you now believe?” (John 16:31). And that’s why we are commanded to "put off" the old nature and to "put on" the new nature -- because God knows we are fickle admixtures, contradictions, carnal-yet-spiritual, inwardly divided souls that need to learn to trust in the miracle of God with all our hearts....

Of course it's easy to believe when things are going well, when faith “makes sense” or provides you with a sense of community, etc., but when things are difficult, when there are disappointments, pain, grief, losses, etc., then you need to trust in the unseen good, the "hidden hand" of God's love, despite the trouble of your present circumstances. This is part of faith’s journey: leaning on God's care, despite the “valley of the shadow of death,” despite the tests... The way may sometimes be difficult, but "the tested genuineness of your faith -- more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire -- will be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Yeshua the Messiah" (1 Pet. 1:7). [Hebrew for Christians]

Faith is a matter of earnestness and heart. As Kierkegaard once said, "Truth is not something you can appropriate easily and quickly. You certainly cannot sleep or dream yourself into the truth. No, you must be tried, do battle, and suffer if you are to acquire truth for yourself" (Works of Love). Indeed "faith" that simply conforms or assents with a creedal formula may actually indicate doubt if it refuses to ask searching questions and to struggle through our limitations. Simply going to a church or religious assembly and mindlessly reciting (or assenting to) a prayer may therefore be a temptation against the true life of faith... Theology can become an evil if it no longer regards itself as a quest for truth as much as the protection of a belief system. A living faith realizes that God cannot be known by means of the rational intellect but by the agency of the heart quickened by the Holy Spirit. Faith pours out its heart to God like a child pleading with his father. Doesn't God call you his child? "You are children of the LORD your God" it says in our Scriptures (Deut. 14:1). When you trust God as your Father you are free to "come boldly" before him, sharing your thoughts, desires, feelings, joys, sorrows, and troubles without dread. [Hebrew for Christians]

2.27.20 • Facebook

[you-make-me-wander]

The way you look tonight

Summary: Drastoria one-shot for the prompt: "Imagine your OTP studying together, and for every question answered right, somebody has to take off a piece of clothing". NoWar!AU. Requested by an anon on tumblr.

Read on AO3, FF.net, Wattpad or under the cut.

Author’s note: It's not going to go where you think it's going, as most of my prompted-by-prompts one-shots go because I like doing it differently from everyone else, but I love it all the same anyway. I hope you enjoy it as well :)

Draco is not sure what happened. Last year she was just Daphne’s little sister and now, as he looks at her, he really wishes that she wasn't.

He isn't even that close to Daphne, really. They're House mates, and she's a good enough gal in his eyes but has never held Draco’s attention for long, for better or worse - he can be truthful in saying that she's kind of pretty, friendly, funny, and easy-going but not really over the top, and she's not an attention seeker, unlike many of the other girls in their House that only care about gossiping or making others' lives a living hell. They've been partners in class a few times over the years, and Draco can honestly say that Daphne seems to be a good girl (even if he’s caught her dancing a little too provocatively in the common room at some Slytherin parties to be just playing nice, but who’s he to judge? Draco is a teenage boy that, like most of his peers, very much enjoys a witch in a skirt).

One of the things that has always kept him from spending more time with Daphne and a few of the other Slytherins is the fact that Daphne always had her little sister around. Not many of his friends have siblings, and as far as Astoria goes, the younger girl has always seemed shy and a bit too quiet to make friends other than her sister, and with most Slytherins being an only child it somehow didn’t sit all that well with most of them to have siblings around.

But really, it was more like they had no clue what to do with the younger ones that wanted to trail after them around Hogwarts.

It wasn’t until Draco’s Sixth Year that she caught his eye, and not for the obvious reason either.

Astoria, as it turns out, came out of her shell last year and made sure to let everyone know just how much of a know-it-all she actually is, and how proud she is of that (absurdly hot) fact. And it was his own fault really, when late one night Daphne (a rather tired-of-having-her-little-sister-around 7th year student) was beyond exhausted and exasperated from studying Herbology for hours on end, and Astoria had just started spewing facts as if she knew them by heart, which only aggravated Daphne’s impatience in helping out her little sister study for her exam. Daphne had left the library then and Draco, who had been just a few seats away studying by himself (thank Merlin for that, Crabbe and Goyle couldn’t find the library for the life of them), noticed how Astoria had suddenly looked disappointed, as if relaying random nonsense about Herbology was something that she actually enjoyed.

Draco, still to this day, has no clue what compelled him to get up from his seat and go offer to help Astoria study and revise for her O.W.L., when he himself had so much studying to do. But the fact of the matter is that he spent hours listening as Astoria not only answered his questions on Herbology right, but also engaged in sharing details that she’d learned – and some of them not even from the mandatory readings – about the subject.

It had been with delight - for some strange reason that at the time Draco hadn’t been able to pinpoint - that he had walked her to the entrance of the Hufflepuff common room for the very first time, later that night. It started their friendship, and a tradition, but lately it has developed into something more.

At least for Draco, it has.

Astoria’s chest rises and falls with every soothing breath that she takes in her sleep. Since Autumn gave way to a chilly Winter, her love for wearing jumpers shows itself in the Puff yellow wool sweater that’s engulfing her frame for it is too big for her, but Draco has learned that’s how she prefers it. Truth is, he doesn’t dislike at all seeing her in over-sized jumpers either. He’s never seen her wear makeup and thinks she’ll never need it, her beauty so effortless it takes his breath away. Her hair, despite unruly from the way she has fallen asleep an hour before, frames her face beautifully as if she’d displayed it on purpose. He knows for a fact that she didn’t though, not only because he watched her fall asleep but also because Astoria has to be the least vain person that Draco has ever met.

In truth, it’s part of her charm. That and her kindness, her empathy towards pretty much everyone, and her passion for plants that is just adorable in his eyes even if her geekiness seems to be unattractive to every other boy in his class.

All the better for him, really.

The thing is that, as Draco got to know her better, Astoria suddenly wasn’t Daphne’s little sister anymore. She was just Astoria.

His Astoria, but he doesn’t dare say it out loud. Not yet.

Draco is pulled out of his wandering thoughts by a raucous rumble. Mathilda has cracked a joke and the whole group seems to be losing it all around them, and Draco immediately notices how Astoria is disturbed from her peaceful sleep, curled on the love seat closest to the fireplace in the Slytherin common room. Blearily sitting up and realizing that she ended up dozing off from so much reading, Astoria blushes and fixes her hair as best she can, hoping no one has noticed.

Too much for that.

“So it seems Sleeping Beauty has decided to rejoin us,” Zabini stupidly remarks, and Draco sometimes has these urges to punch his friends in the face. “And just in time to join the game, no less.”

However frequently boys flirt with her nowadays, now that she’s on their radar not for her intellect but for her looks, Draco knows for a fact that Astoria dislikes being the center of attention, more so when she isn’t all that interested in pursuing romantic entanglements as far as he knows. Before he can say anything in her defense for there’s no way that she’s playing with them, Pansy speaks up, and everyone can tell that jealously of the other girl’s beauty laces her words. “She’s not playing with us,” Pansy defies a still rather sleepy Astoria. “She’ll never have what it takes.”

“Guys…” Daphne warns them with a threatening tone, knowing full well how everyone not only thinks that Astoria is this innocent little thing, but also how they all assume that she has to have it be corrupted out of her somehow.

“What game are you talking ab-”

Draco doesn’t let Astoria finish the question, even if he knows that she’s always eager to learn about anything and everything new. “You’re not playing,” he voices assertively, turning heads left and right at his commanding tone.

Truly, it isn’t that his and Astoria’s friendship is new. It isn’t even that she happened to be sorted into Hufflepuff despite her lineage, and that he’s a proud Slytherin. It’s just that their connection seems incomprehensible to everyone but them, for some reason.

Draco can’t tell why, though; he thinks it’s rather obvious. She’s an incredible girl, and he fell for her. It’s that simple, really.

For her part, intrigued by everyone’s reaction and pretending that she didn’t hear her best friend while oblivious to the thoughts running through his mind, Astoria repeats herself, if anything to piss Draco off a little. At first it had been subtle, a small change here and there, but lately Draco has been behaving more and more strangely. Always making the time to walk her almost anywhere, keeping her up until two or three in the morning to just talk if there’s nothing too important they need to study for (she often has to remind him that Draco has his N.E.W.T.s to think about, but he always dismisses it by saying that he’d rather just keep talking to her instead), intimidating boys who try to engage in conversation or flirt with her often times…

While it makes her heart beat faster just thinking of the possibility that there might be more to their friendship, Astoria has been waiting on him to make a move for weeks now. He’s the confident one, the one who has all the moves and the smooth lines to easily crumble her resolve of withholding from him, and yet he hasn’t done a thing in that regard, and Astoria wouldn’t know where to start if she were to do it herself. What does she know? She’s never been with anyone.

Needless to say, unresolved tension and frustration have been building between them for the past few weeks, so yes. If she can infuriate him just a little, she will.

Astoria turns to Zabini, hoping her gaze is flirtatious enough as she drawls the words out to upset Draco, or at the very least to get a bit of a reaction out of him. She’s starting to think that she’s deluding herself about any chances they might have. “If there’s a game, I want in. What’s it about?”

Draco’s response is immediate as he leans forward, eyes wide at Astoria’s sudden boldness but he can’t get anything out before Zabini leans forward on the couch himself, certainly interested in how forward Astoria seems to be tonight. “Well, we were just thinking that we’ve been slouching out here for a couple of hours now, when really we should be studying. Because what we seem to lack is incentive, we thought we could make things a little bit more… Interesting.”

Draco hates the shit-eating grin that Zabini has on his face, even more when Astoria reddens good-naturedly and innocently asks “How so?”

He might just have to hex his mate in his sleep tonight.

Zabini leans back again and lets his arms rest on the back of the couch, all of his posture inviting. If he didn’t know any better, Draco would say that his friend is trying to make a move on Astoria. And the problem is that Zabini is, without a doubt, doing so. Draco is so not letting this happen...

“Easy,” Zabini replies, with a smirk that Draco has overheard some witches say is irresistible. “For every question, the person who answers right gets to pick someone, themselves or others, to lose a piece of clothing. If the answer is wrong, they’re the ones who have to lose it. Now of course the game usually goes on until everyone is in their underwear but naturally, in the end, clothing is optional.”

If possible, Astoria’s cheeks redden even further, and some of the girls in the group start mumbling lowly amongst themselves, much to the brunette’s dismay. Draco watches warily as Astoria holds her head high though, at least until her next questions are answered. “Then how do you decide who is the winner? If the chooser can pick anyone to lose a piece of clothing and everyone can literally choose the same one person in every round, who wins? Whoever has the least pieces of clothing on in the end? Whoever has the most?”

Draco can tell that, in part, Astoria is genuinely interested in the answer for her curious nature, but he hates himself for knowing all too well what Zabini’s response will be. “Well, that would depend on who you’re wishing to see naked, now wouldn’t it? Maybe someone you’ve set your eyes on. Maybe yourself, so that others can watch you… It’s really all about everyone’s personal interests. And don’t we all win in the end, if we end up studying and having a good time and getting to see each other naked?” Zabini asks, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“You are not playing, Astoria,” Draco tells her gravely, as if wanting to warn her wisely before she heads into battle. He exchanges a look with Daphne, pleading for support, but for some reason his classmate seems rather uncaring, watching her sister be lured into something so foul, without wanting to raise her wand to protect her sibling if her lack of input is any indication.

Draco’s hand twitches with the will to reach for his own and jinx everyone in the room just for thinking they can get away with this.

Truly, and much like what happened when they started hanging out and his interest (she’ll call it interest for the lack of a better fitting word) in Astoria led to others’ attention to her as well, it’s Draco’s fault that they’re in this position. Or so Astoria likes to think.

Or at least it’s how Astoria is justifying her answer to such a git as Blaise Zabini. “I’m in. I want to play.”

Zabini grins like a little wizard on Christmas morning at her answer, so Draco jumps up from the couch immediately. To do what, he hasn't the slightest clue. “We're leaving,” he ends up letting out in between gritted teeth, facing Astoria. “It's way past curfew, you shouldn't even be here.”

He's gesticulating way too much and his cheeks are painted red in his pale complexion, Draco knows, but he doesn't have it in himself to care. It does seem to strengthen Astoria more though, and Draco can almost feel the crippling of energy between them as Astoria gets to her feet and stands to face him as well, defiant. “I'm not going anywhere if I'm welcome here. If you're too bothered, then maybe you should head to your dormitory if it's past your bedtime.”

People around them snicker and laugh at how ballsy little Astoria is being to almighty Malfoy, but neither of the two is listening, too wrapped up in their bubble.

He hates how much of a little firecracker she can be sometimes. “You're not playing, Astoria. I'm not letting you.”

Astoria takes a couple of steps forward, emboldened even if Draco’s scent and closeness overwhelm her when she’s near him. “What makes you think I don't have what it takes?” Her eyes fiery, Astoria takes another step. “You would likely play in a heartbeat, and yet you seem to think that I can't. Am I too young for you, too naive?” She suddenly halts, reminded that they aren’t alone, looking around them to give the impression that she’s referring to all Slytherins and not just Draco, because that would go well. “What makes you think you have any say in the matter anyway?”

If he didn’t know her any better, he’d say Astoria had a bit of a flare for dramatics. However he can tell that she’s just being consumed by her frustration, much like he is. And even if he doesn’t understand the depths of their irritation, or has been pretending not to, Draco resolutely picks up all of her books and pushes them into her arms. Astoria barely has the time to catch them before they escape her grip, and Draco is a breath away from her before she can form any coherent thought when he mutters “We’re going.”

Zabini and some of the others start talking, but Astoria can only notice the way Draco’s chest heaves with faltering breaths, his eyes shining with a sentiment she can’t quite pinpoint.

“Malfoy, don’t be such a spoil-sport. It’s just harmless fun,” Tracey Davis whines, and Draco knows it’s because she’s rather interested in both Draco and Astoria playing the game. Looking out for all her choices, that one, not that he blames her. She’s just out of luck where they are concerned.

“It’s just a game, Draco,” Pansy remarks with annoyance, and he’s never regretted so much having hooked up with the girl in the past when he notices Astoria flinching at Pansy’s tone.

It only seems to incite his friend further. “Not that you have the right to make such a decision, but what is your reasoning for not allowing me to play? What makes you think you can speak for me and make decisions? Go on and tell me, I'm curious,” Astoria dares.

Draco pinches the bridge of his nose, exasperated with the turn their night is taking. He just wanted to wait for her to wake up so he could walk her back to the Hufflepuff common room, safe from any wandering Prefects. “This isn't a game for the likes of you, Astoria, okay? It's beneath you…”

The last part comes out a whisper that she’s almost sure no one else heard, and her breathing picks up at the subtext. If only Astoria wasn’t so mad at him at the moment… “For the likes of me?,” she asks, taking offense. “What is that supposed to mean? Am I too young to play such an alluring game, too innocent? Or perhaps I’m not pure enough?” Her eyes start burning then, and Draco knows he’s messed up as soon as she brings up the fact that she isn’t a Slytherin like the rest of them, still a sore point even after six years at Hogwarts. “Tell me, Draco,” she defies. “By Merlin, what makes you think you're above me?”

No one says a word. Draco doesn’t think he has ever heard the common room so quiet, the lulls of the lazy water from the lake rasping against the tall windows when a merman approaches the glass to peer inside.

Knowing he struck a nerve without meaning to, Draco lowers his head in embarrassment at having put Astoria in this position, and worst of all in front of everyone.

Daphne stands up - finally, Draco thinks a little too bitterly - but Astoria motions for her sister to stop. “No,” she murmurs, but everyone can hear it in the near silence. Her eyes never leave Draco’s, tears threatening to fall. “Maybe I should leave after all.”

Draco doesn’t think he has ever felt as ashamed as he does in this moment, when her eyes burn into his so fiercely, the hurt behind them turning her beautiful irises from the usual dark brown into a warm shade of amber. It breaks him. “Astoria…”

On a whim, he reaches forward to take her hand but Astoria takes a step back as soon as their skin touch. In silence, she clutches her books to her chest and turns around, walking as fast as she dares towards the labyrinthine hallways that will lead her to the entrance of the common room and out into the dungeons.

Draco watches her go, following after her for one, two, three steps before stopping frozen in place. All around him, no one says a thing, for which he’s thankful. Turning on the spot, only Daphne meets his eyes, and Draco feels even worse realizing that he might have destroyed something he was still not so sure how he had so luckily come by.

“Up, the lot of you,” Daphne suddenly demands from the group, the last ones down at the common room at such a late hour. “And not a word of this to anyone.”

No one argues after the show they just witnessed, and they all know better than to go against Daphne when she decides to enforce her authority as a Prefect. She’s mostly laid back in her position, but she can be very persuasive when she wants to.

When everyone but them has gone to the dormitories, Draco has no idea what to expect. It certainly isn’t what comes out of Daphne’s mouth. “I don’t know what you two have going on, but I know you care a lot about each other.” Before Draco can ask her how she knows that, or how she can be so sure that Astoria cares about him, his classmate continues. “I can tell,” she clarifies for him, surely reading the questions on his face.

“Look, Draco…” Daphne sits in one of the couches, her hands resting on her knees as she looks up at him. “My sister, she’s not used to the kind of attention you’ve given her for the last year, if you know what I mean.” He thinks he knows, but Astoria’s romantic partners or lack thereof have never really been a discussion he has been particularly fond of having with her. Draco thinks that, in part, it’s because he’s almost sure that Astoria has never been with anyone and she’s ashamed of that fact. For his part, he’s not too eager to find out he might be wrong.

Daphne continues, unaware of his inner ramblings. “She doesn’t have many friends, and she prefers to keep to herself most of the time. But she’s been trying to be more social as of late, joining us sometimes and putting up with our antics because she’s grown to be comfortable around us.” She rakes one of her hands through her hair and Draco can tell that she’s anxious. “Tonight, with the game… I thought it might have been fun for her to enjoy herself a little. She studies too much, always cooped up hiding behind books. She needs a break,” Daphne sighs. “In part, I think it’s why it blew out of proportions. She’s just been too tense. But when you stood up for her, I thought Hey, maybe they’ll finally do something about whatever is going on between them.”

“There’s nothing going on between us, Daphne. We’re just friends.” Or were, his conscience assaults him, and his heart rate picks up at the painful prospect.

“For now,” Daphne mentions with a soft smile. “The way you look at each other… Friends don’t look at each other like that.”

He knows he’s been transparent, but Daphne can’t possibly think that Astoria feels the same way about him. “I-”

“Don’t say anything, it’s true. Anyone can tell. And I mean anyone. I’m almost sure Zabini provoked you just to get back at you for knocking him over on the last Quidditch game.”

“Hey, that wasn’t on purpose! I was going for the snitch and he got in the way.”

“I know that, and he knows it too. Still you’re aware of how much of a git he can be.”

“You can say that again…”

“It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that you and Astoria let your feelings get the best of you, and not for the outcome I’m sure you both would prefer. I thought you wanting to protect her from the game would please her, but I guess she’s way more annoyed at you than I thought.” Draco wants to ask her just how frustrated Astoria is with him, but he still can’t wrap his head around the fact that Astoria might feel the same way about him. “I didn’t intervene because I thought you two would figure something out on your own but that might have been poor judgment on my part. So I’m giving you a piece of advice now. I could go after my sister to see how she’s faring and make her feel better, but I think you should do it. You should go after her.”

Draco looks down at the ground as if the carpet beneath his feet holds any interest. “I don’t know. I acted like a possessive git. I couldn’t stand the idea of Astoria undressing in front of anyone, especially when I could tell she was daring me. It wasn’t even something that she really wanted, she was just taking it out on me. And I didn’t let her. And now she’s mad.”

“I’m almost certain you might have to duck a few spells on your way to her,” Daphne jokes, “but I know she’ll much rather have you to comfort her than me.”

“I doubt that,” he says, meeting Daphne’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to, but I hurt her.”

“So maybe you should move your arse and go fix it, don’t you think? I know it doesn’t matter to you that she’s not a Slytherin, and that you’ve told her that yourself several times in the past, but maybe you should convince her once and for all that she’s still one of us, no matter what. Merlin knows she doesn’t listen to me…” Daphne gets up and fixes imaginary wrinkles on her skirt. “Maybe all she needs to hear is that it doesn’t matter what House she’s in or what bloodline she comes from, because you’d love her either way,” she states simply.

Draco is left dumbstruck. “I don’t- I mean, maybe I have… Feelings for her that I don’t really know how to express. Or better… I mean, I wouldn’t say…”

“You don’t need to tell me anything,” Daphne shrugs as if this is of no importance to her, but a smirk is threatening to escape her lips. “You need to tell her.”

Draco stares at Daphne as if she said he should rip his heart out of his chest, slice it open and offer it to the one person he knows has the power to stomp on it and leave it rotting on the ground miserably as she walks away, uncaring.

Daphne chuckles, for sure at the livid expression that has to be marring his face. “You two can be so stubborn in your own way, you don’t realize you could have been together for months now.”

Oh, how he wishes it were so. “I don’t know…”

“One of you is gonna have to make the first move, and I’m thinking it’ll be harder for it to be the one of you that has no experience in matters of the heart, wouldn’t you agree?” Draco says nothing, but he can tell that his cheeks redden if the warmth that he suddenly feels in his face is any indication. He likes the idea of Astoria never having been with anyone even if it makes him a git for wanting to be her first, but is he worthy enough to take that place? He doesn’t think anyone is. “Go after her and make up. I expect to find my sister with a smile on her face when morning comes,” Daphne says, as if she couldn’t be surer that he and Astoria will solve everything easily.

Daphne picks up her cloak from the spot on the sofa where she’d been previously tucked underneath the fabric for warmth. Probably expecting to find Draco gone but noticing that he hasn’t moved while she did so, Daphne places a hand on her hip and cocks an eyebrow. “So? You know how terribly lost Astoria always finds herself whenever she’s alone down in the dungeons. Plus, you’re also aware - too aware, I’m afraid - of how Miss Granger, Head Girl extraordinaire, enjoys doing her rounds at off hours precisely to find students out of bed way, way past curfew, as it’s now.”

So what if Draco likes to wander through the castle late at night to make sure pranks are in place to catch Potter and his clique by surprise come morning sometimes? Granger is out past curfew just as much as he is when she happens to finds him red-handed every now and then!

Still Draco glances at his watch. Almost 2:30 in the morning. Astoria is gonna get in trouble is she’s found out wandering about.

“Move along, Malfoy, or I’m jinxing you until you do.”

That gets him moving. He’s seen Daphne’s Stinging Jinx once or twice; he doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of one of those. Ever. “I hope you’re right,” he resolves, finding the strength to move.

He can hear Daphne mumble “So do I” as he trails behind what he hopes is a good fate.

He finds her almost five minutes later, going in what is definitely not the direction of the Entrance Hall.

“Astoria, wait.” Draco runs to catch up with her, and he almost knocks her over when the brunette suddenly stops on her tracks and turns to face him.

“Am I not good enough for you, is that it?!”

So much for figuring things out without a hitch.

Her voice echoes through the empty corridor and her hurt resonates within him, and Draco can’t help the way it aches to know that she’s upset because of him. Grabbing her arm and tugging lightly, seeking for some privacy and to avoid problems with anyone that might catch them out of bed so late at night, Draco opens the first door that he finds unlocked and gets inside, closing it behind them both to find that they’re in an unused classroom.

“Tell me,” she demands from him, and he’s never felt so self-conscious in his life. “I- I- I thought we had something. I thought you and I were going somewhere eventually, but you’re always gonna see me as Daphne’s little sister, aren’t you? Merlin forbid you’d ever spare me a second glance or-”

Hope renewed at her words, more so after his talk with Daphne, Draco crosses the space between them until he’s too close for rational thoughts to form properly, and it takes him a moment to get his bearings. The tension between them wins him over for a moment, and he’s not sure where his next words come from. “You want to play the game?” He dares, tired himself of all the dancing around each other they’ve been doing all year. “If you want to play the game so much, then we’re playing. Right here, right now. Just you and me.” He can’t tell whose chest is heaving harder; they both seem to be out of breath. “I’m not letting anyone else see you naked.”

He shouldn’t like so much how her cheeks taint red at his comment, but feels ashamed at how possessive he sounded, and fears it might lead Astoria to the wrong conclusion. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant-”

Astoria interrupts him, swallowing dryly at his proximity, his scent intoxicating her, his eyes boring into her soul as if he can read everything that’s on her mind, and yet not so much. “I wanted to play to rile you up, Draco, and because I thought we could have some fun. But maybe I wanted to play more to prove to you that I’m not the innocent little girl you all see me to be. I’m tired of pretending to be something I’m not,” she admits.

“And still you think you have something to prove, Astoria. You don’t,” he tells her softly. “Playing that game wouldn’t have changed that.”

She shakes her head, leaning against one of the dusty, old desks. The dungeons, often cold and unwelcoming, feel as though they’re ablaze. Astoria deems it true for the warmth that spreads all over her under his unwavering gaze. “You don’t know how hard it is to ignore the murmurs of the Slytherin girls whenever I pass them by, knowing I’m not one of them. Or how awkward it is when Daphne and I go home for the holidays, and all our parents seem to see are her accomplishments. They try to be involved in regards to my House and my hobbies, my grades, but it’s never enough. They don’t know how to be something they’re not either.” She looks away, breaking his heart when she whispers “I was born and raised to be a Slytherin, not a blood traitor. They’ll never look at me and see the same thing they do when they look at Daphne.”

He had no idea she felt so strongly about this, and he imagines that Daphne doesn’t either. Astoria has, a few times in the past, opened up about how she struggles with being a Hufflepuff, something that she’s very proud to be. She’s confided in him how guilty she sometimes feels that she didn’t ask the Sorting Hat to place her where she thinks she should belong instead of letting it make the choice for her, but he never knew just how much it affected her. He knows as well that these are different times from the ones their parents lived in, and blood lineage and purity isn’t as important anymore even though it still seems to matter to some families. He knew her relationship with her parents wasn’t the best one, but he hadn’t imagined she felt this way towards them. It has to be in her head though. He’s seen the way her parents look at her when she and Daphne hop off the Train into the station and their parents greet them. They look no differently at Astoria, and it’s hard to fake such affection.

“I think you’re wrong.” Daring to touch her, Draco lifts her chin so he can meet her confused eyes. “So what if you’re in a House your parents didn’t think you’d be? You’re still their child, and you’re no blood traitor. They still love you.”

Her lower lip trembles with the effort not to let herself cry. “I’ve disappointed them.”

Moving closer, Draco cups her cheeks, not ignoring how soft they feel under his hands. “You haven’t disappointed a single soul in your life, Astoria. I promise you.” The air seems to catch in her throat. He’s feeling out of breath himself. “And I’m sorry if I’ve made it worse.” Finding strength in the way he’s got her rapt attention, Draco lays his bare heart on the table. “I have feelings for you, Astoria, and I’ve had them for a while now. I don’t know their extent yet, or their true nature, but you’re the best part of my day and you have been since I met you. Getting to know you has been the most gratifying experience I’ve ever gone through, and I never want it to stop. You’re kind and passionate about what you love. You’re smart and aren’t afraid of showing it.” Her lip stops trembling when he brushes it with his thumb. It makes him want to do it again. “You make me want to be better. You’re so strong…” He whispers, leaning in just the slightest bit.

“I’m not so smart.” Her voice trembles, and Draco feels the need to make all her worries go away. “I’m not the brightest witch, or the sexiest. I often stumble on air whenever I walk and I’d rather spend my free time reading a good book or caring for the plants down at the Greenhouses than trying to sneak to Hogsmeade to purchase the shortest skirts to work on getting a wizard’s attention. I’m not like any of other girls my age.”

“You’re you. And that’s enough.” His words ring finality, in a way, and Draco can only hope they convey as much sentiment as he feels inside. Merlin, she makes him sappy. “You drive me bonkers whenever we argue, Little Green,” he draws out his nickname for her easily, always having enjoyed the way it rolls off his tongue, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way. And I’m sorry if I took it too far earlier. The thought of anyone else seeing you so intimately… It made me jealous, and embarrassed for still not having had the courage to tell you how you make me feel. But not anymore now.” Their noses touch, and Draco is overwhelmed with the urge to just kiss her already. But he wants to make right by her, so he waits. “I think you’re incredibly smart, and just, and compassionate. You have this innate talent for Herbology that’ll take you as far as you’ll let it in the future. You’ll be the best Herbologist the magical world has ever seen. You’ll be in the History books your kids will read one day. You don’t think you’re the sexiest witch, or have your priorities straight; I have to disagree. I think your priorities lie just where your heart does, and I think you’re the most beautiful witch I’ve ever laid eyes on. For sure, one of a kind.” He thinks his heart stops beating when her gaze drops momentarily to his lips. “I wouldn’t want you to be anybody else but you.”

They crash, her mouth soft yet determined against his, replying to his admissions with the words she doesn’t have.

They burn, bodies overcome with a longing they didn’t know was there, so powerful and overwhelming to their senses as they pull the other closer.

They cave into each other, giving into the unknown, hoping the other will catch their fall.

After what was, surprisingly, merely a graze of lips for it seemed to be so much more, his light grey eyes meet her dark brown ones, and it’s in astonishment that they realize they’re both safely on the ground.

Together.

“You think I’m one of a kind?”

Draco grins, his nose sweetly brushing her cheek before he kisses her lightly on the lips again. “I know you are.”

Astoria holds his gaze for a moment before hiding her blush against his chest, and Draco holds her as they laugh. “You do have a way with words, Draco. I’ve been wondering when it was going to catch up with me.”

“I’m glad it finally has.”

Astoria looks up at him, and whispers “Me too.”

They look at each other in silence for a moment before Draco holds her hand and pulls her with him as he starts to move. “Come on, I’m walking you to your Common Room.”

Their fingers entwine sometime during their cautious walk through the castle. Merlin forbid they were to find Mrs. Norris or Peeves at such a late hour, or worse yet Granger or one of the teachers (even Draco has to admit that he envies Potter’s Cloak of Invisibility sometimes, he really does), but thankfully there’s no unpleasant meetings.

When they approach the painting that depicts a bowl of fruit, Draco slows his pace and Astoria matches it until they stop by the stack of barrels that gives entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room. Their fingers stay laced a moment longer. “Would you like to have breakfast with me tomorrow?” Draco rubs his neck, feeling himself blush as he asks. “You know, just the two of us. We could talk about how you’ve been feeling, and I’d like to tell you again and again that you’re far more special than anyone else in this castle. And maybe we could talk about us, take a walk by the lake after lunch. Or meet somewhere…”

Astoria kisses his cheek swiftly, indulging in how rare, yet adorable Draco is when he rambles. “I’d like that.”

It takes everything he has not to kiss her again and rush things. “Then it’s a date.” And he means it just as it sounds. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

Astoria seems reluctant to let go but does so eventually, taking her wand from one of her pockets to enter her Common Room but his voice stops her before she can. Looking at Draco over her shoulder, he’s glad that he decided to say one last thing. “You don’t need to pretend to be different, or do anything that isn’t who you’re not. Not with me, and not with anyone else. Astoria, the way you look tonight…” He takes in her disheveled hair from her nap, the lovely over-sized jumper that despite hiding her body, drapes her in a coziness that keeps reeling him in, her natural beauty always devoid of makeup, the kind eyes and her pretty lips bare for him, her worn-out shoes that she’s stubbornly not traded for new ones because they’re her favorite and most comfortable pair. Draco loves that she challenges and outsmarts him, that she’s unlike everyone else he knows, and he’s determined to let her know that, however often he’ll have to repeat himself. She’s priceless, a masterpiece, and he’s decided to take it upon himself to appreciate her as she deserves. “Inside and out, I don’t think you’ve ever looked more beautiful to me.”

The grin that Astoria wears to bed that night remains when he meets her again, come morning.

Author’s note: I'm you-make-me-wander on tumblr. Feel free to stop by and check out the fan art for this fic and more on my on-going Drastoria/Scorose fic, "The joys of you", and please leave a review to let me know what you thought :)

[incorrectmidc]

Midnight Valentine: SOULMATE SOIRÉE

CHAPTER I: The Amortentia Smells Like Mon Chéri

Part 1

“...his hair as dark as a blackboard. I wish he was mine, he’s really divine…”[1]

Sid couldn’t help the snort that left him as he caught some of the cheesy words the dwarf in cupid’s stupid costume was spouting in the middle of the hallway that mid-morning. Sneaking a glance at the unfortunate human who was being subjected to such torture, he spotted his friend Byron staring impassively at the dwarf, his expression revealing nothing of the embarrassment Sid expected to see.

“Huh,” he murmured almost thoughtfully, realising that he wasn’t even surprised that the recipient turned out to be Byron. The other male was one of the most popular student in Hogwarts despite belonging to the infamous Slytherin House. In fact, Sid sometimes thought that Byron being in Slytherin was only because of his pureblood lineage.

“Byron’s disinterested attitude to anything that concerns romance is both amusing and annoying,” a familiar female voice said which diverted Sid’s attention from the still yapping dwarf. Turning around, he spotted a girl dressed in dark robes adorned by flecks of blue and bronze – the colour of Ravenclaw House – the same as his own. She stopped beside him, her (E/C) orbs lingering over Byron Wagner’s prone form across the hallway before she flicked her gaze to Sid. “So, any of the cupids approach you yet?”

Sid snorted at her question, finding it absolutely ridiculous. Don’t get him wrong. He was aware that based on human standards, he’s quite on the attractive side. With his toned physique, dark blue eyes, and a chill personality, he wasn’t lacking admirers. In fact, as it is Valentines Day, he has already received quite the amount of gifts from his admirers though Merlin’s beard forbid if he ever gets a love confession through a dwarf posing as cupid. “Bloody hell no,” he said, scowling lightly when she laughed at his words. “What are you doing here by the way? Is your professor out on a date?”

She rolled her eyes in response, the quirk of her lips telling him she found the idea quite amusing. “The day Professor Branche goes out on a date is the day girls get their hearts broken.” It was an undeniable fact that the Potions professor, Robert Branche, has got quite the fanbase in the school.

“So ya heading to give him that?” he asked, motioning to the box she was clutching on her hand. With the way the box was wrapped and with a pretty little ribbon adorning it, Sid was certain it contains chocolates.

“This one’s for you, idiot,” she said while thrusting the box towards Sid who immediately accepted it by reflex. “No need to get jealous over the professor, you know.”

“Very funny, (Y/N),” Sid muttered which made her laugh again. Grunting, he opened the box and stared at the perfectly shaped chocolates aligned neatly inside. “And this is the part where you confess your undying love to me.”

“Very funny, Sid,” (Y/N) said, mimicking Sid’s words earlier as she playfully punched him on the arm. “How is it?” she asked when he popped one chocolate in his mouth afterwards.

Sid arched an eyebrow at the question. (Y/N) has been giving him chocolates every Valentines ever since she entered Hogwarts five years ago and it had become routine for the two of them, including the teasing and slight flirting that goes along with it. Why she decided to give him chocolates every year was lost on Sid, not even bothering to ask her about the reason, chalking it up to her quirkiness, for when it comes to her, he learned that sometimes it’s best to not know everything.

But the way she was asking him how the chocolates taste like was really unusual. Not only because it was the first time she asked what he thought of the sweets, but also because of the fact that despite her confident posture, there was a bit of uncertainty lingering in her (E/C) orbs.

“It’s…” he looked thoughtful for a moment, purposefully making her wait in anticipation. “…chocolate-y.”

“How eloquent.” Sarcasm was oozing from (Y/N)’s tone when she spoke again and Sid was definitely not relieved when her usual sass came back and the uncertainty gone as if he had just imagined it seconds ago.

“So you’re telling me you haven’t tried this before giving this to me?” Though his tone was incredulous, Sid was already reaching for another piece of chocolate from the box and as if by instinct, or out of another habit, offered said confection to (Y/N).

“I didn’t want to risk it,” she said before she accepted said treat, letting Sid feed her like it was nothing unusual.

“You brat.”

“There’s no need for you to worry. I make the best chocolates in all of Hogwarts,” she said while she chewed. “Mm, this is good.”

Sid rolled his eyes as he closed the box and tucked it under his robes. “Happy valentines to me then,” he said sarcastically though his dark blue orbs were lit up with amusement.

(Y/N) grinned up at him, her (E/C) eyes glinting as well. “Yeah, happy valentines, Sid.”

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, If you’ve a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind.[2]

It was a common knowledge not only in Hogwarts, but also in the whole of the wizarding world, that members of Ravenclaw House are characterised by wit, intellect and wisdom. Ravenclaws have a tendency to become very competitive in academics, the thirst in getting to the top obviously palpable.

And it was due to that spirit of competitiveness in class that Sid found his roommate, Leo Crawford, in their, well, room, sitting in front of a cauldron, giving finishing touches to the potion he was concocting that evening. “What the bloody hell are ya doing?” he asked, cautiously leaning against the door just in case he needed to make a run for it. Knowing Leo, he wouldn’t be surprised if the other boy was making something that would transform any living thing into something else.

Or something that’s prone to explode.

Leo, who didn’t seem bothered being caught, placed his index finger on his lips, a gesture to shush Sid. “Nico and I got full marks in Potions today for making a healing potion,” he said, scooping the pink concoction from the cauldron and transferring it to a clear glass vial. “And you know how we get when we get the same marks.”

Unfortunately, Sid thought with a shake of his head, he does. Leo and the Slytherin student Nico Meier, were probably two of the best Potions maker in Hogwarts and they’ve been competing on who can make the most potent potions in the shortest amount of time ever since first year. Honestly, Sid was wondering how the two managed to reach their 5th year without getting expelled for all the chaos their concoctions brought upon the school.

Still apprehensive, but lesser than earlier, Sid inched away from the door and headed to his bed, keeping an eye on Leo in case he does something else more unexpected. “What were you making?” he asked out of curiousity.

Though had he known how much that single act would change everything soon, he wouldn’t have dared open his mouth.

End of Part 1

[1] An excerpt from Ginny Weasley’s Valentine letter for Harry Potter found in the book Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Chapter 13.

[2] From one of the Sorting Hat’s songs

P.S. The exciting parts of the story are all in part 2 with @agrossivepatato. HAPPY VALENTINES, MINNA~!（´・｀ ）♡

Original Characters by @cyikemen

Written by me, myself and I - @incorrectmidc ;)

[murderincrp]

PROFILE LOADED... 「KIM HIMCHAN」「SYNDICATE」「TWENTY-EIGHT」

“Twenty-eight-year-old DOCUMENT FORGER and LIBRARY ASSISTANT that goes by the alias ‘ECHO’. His allegiance lies with SYNDICATE.”

✘ THREAT LEVEL LOW. NO PRECAUTIONS NECESSARY...

[ BACKGROUND... ]

Kim Himchan lived the first fifteen years of his life in loneliness…and a lie. His was the middle son of a wealthy, picture perfect family. His father was a successful CEO of a family business that had been around for generations, his older brother was respected, adored, and the heir. His mother was a beautiful seamstress that had talent at her fingertips, and his little sister (the youngest of them all) was the nation’s next little princess, as her father said—and it could be safe to say, considering she had everyone wrapped around her little fingers. And then Himchan, the middle son…well, he was there. He helped with chores, assisted the maids and butlers. But most importantly, he kept to himself and out of the way of his parents and older brother, after all, they had extremely important business to take care of, which didn’t involve him. It left him with caretakers that he only saw so often, and could only say so much too, and a little sister that was four years younger and very hard to carry a conversation with. Although, she even had Himchan’s heart, so he didn’t mind entertaining her and keeping quiet. But as years would pass, he would begin to grow more and more frustrated with his family. Why did his brother look down upon him? Why did his parents turn him away? And as much as he adored her, why did his sister have to tease and mock him when he was ignored, and she wasn’t? He was an intelligent and well mannered boy up into his teen years. He never stepped out of line, he passed all his subjects with flying colours, he self-taught himself countless more topics, and he was incredibly excellent (and quick) with mind challenging objects and games. (examples: trivia, rubix cube-esque items, things of that sort) It wasn’t until he started misbehaving for attention that his life slowly went downhill even further, especially when he thought that he couldn’t get any lonelier It started with smoking cigarettes with friends and getting written up at school, for skipping a class he was already passing, for sneaking out. He thought that these things would get his parents attention..and eventually, the nervousness of committing these misbehaviors was almost thrilling. But…the only thing he gained was getting to know his bedroom walls far too well, for recognizing and becoming use to the stinging over his skin from his father’s belt, from being sent away like he always was, except with more disappointment and distaste than usual. Not too much time would pass until Himchan would blow things out of the water, and unknowingly in doing so, reveal a family secret.

A call home from school would send his parents into a rage —he had soiled their reputation in the school district.

Your son…well, we’re very disappointed. He has yet to explain the ‘how’ of things, but he was caught distributing copies of a final exam along with the proper test answers, which reached numerous fellow students. In result…I’m sorry to tell this to you, but Himchan has been expelled and will no longer be welcomed on our campus.

His furious father would finally boil over, you are the biggest disappointment, I’m glad you aren’t even ours—do you hear that, you little scum? You’re not even of this Kim bloodline, and yet you’re still a disgrace to it!

Shock and terror was Himchan’s immediate reaction, the blood draining from his face. It wouldn’t be until after he was thrown into his room in tears, and his older “brother” sneaking in to explain the story to the pathetic younger boy: he was adopted, a perceived miracle child at first as he carried the same surname (at least his name hadn’t been a lie, not like it made anything better) after the Kim family’s scare that they weren’t going to be able to have another child. They adored him until the age of four, when they successfully had another baby of their own, one that would instantly become the apple of their eyes.

It would be within that week that Mr. Kim would pull strings in order to find this abomination’s birth parents. However, that search was to no avail—an aunt was found, who was desperate enough to have the last surviving piece of her sister and brother-in-law, that she’d put herself in to debt to make sure the legal transition would give Himchan to her, fully. Not to mention Mr. Kim added additional charges on the woman to send her nephew and his few possessions he was allowed to her. Not that he had much say in anything, or any words to give, either.

Fast forward: Himchan would successfully be relocated to live with the aunt he never knew he had, to be placed in a life that was hidden from him. He would go from riches to rags, but at least…he had someone who seemed to want him around. Adjusting was terribly slow, however. Continuing his education in a public system, he’d become the student body’s source of answers, permission forms, notes sent home to parents that would cover for their children as if they weren’t causing trouble…forging became a normal thing to him, the only thing he didn’t feel disappointed in himself for. And at times, people would pay him for it, fairly well, too. This would follow him into college, where he didn’t know where his studies would take him…he was bright and intelligent, but his motivation was beginning to lack. Especially when there was so much work to be done, despite being on his own, his aunt, and even him now, had debts to pay. His silent pleads for financial help and a calling would soon come to him—and behind a small, rustic looking shop at that. Himchan was offered a deal that he couldn’t ignore, his brain and heart latching on to. He was offered a position for his forging skills, one that would suck him into the darker side of Seoul. But he didn’t care, because he was promised protection, too. He held this tightly as his calling, and after seeing everything his aunt had done just to pay for debts..he wasn’t going to say no, or let go of it.

[ BEHAVIOR... ]

He has no problem with social interactions and is well versed in playing the role of a socialite; he’s the farthest from a wall-flower, in fact, he’s the charismatic man that would try to bring the wall-flowers out of their shells and to their floors, or at least, at his side. Intellect is also something that seems to be a strong trait, except this one he doesn’t have to act out (although sometimes he views this as both a blessing and a burden). At times, it’s hard for him to find something challenging (a challenge is something he loves), but often times it’s hard to find a puzzle that fits for his strong problem-solving mind. For those that know him (or even those that don’t, honestly), it’s easy to recognize that he has a calm, even light demeanor, and that he’s incredibly thorough, organized, and very detail oriented. However, he has negative traits as well: he can hold a grudge to his deathbed; gained his trust and lost it? Welcome to zero’s blacklist. He can also be fairly flirtatious and smooth talking, but when it comes to romance….well, he’s strongly reserved and keeps his personal emotions on a constant lockdown. He’s tough to get through and doesn’t handle most emotional situations well at all and can even be awkward when it comes to situations.In summary, he’s a man that seems he has it all together, that he’s ready to take on the world—but has plenty of rough edges and things that are deep beneath the surface.

[jmyamigliore]

Reiki O Que A Chakras Eye-Opening Cool Ideas

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Reiki Chakra Kundalini

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Reiki Master Reddit

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[genocidershodan]

Squad 3

Black Horizon follows two childhood friends Drade and Darius from the small town of Durst Ridge with aspirations to grow up to join the Royal Guard and serve with the famous General Kaidence.

Even though Drade follows Elzor to New Eleanore to become a spellbinder, Darius stay and is squired to his father, a knight.

Eventually after many trials, Darius is offered an opportunity join the Royal Guard and attends the notoriously punishing and often deadly three month training camp.

After the recruits are whittled down to an even number, they are all sorted into six person squads, success in the coming trails depends entirely on the squad as a whole, if one fails, they all fail.

Darius Foxley:

Darius’ mother passed away soon after his birth due to complications. His father was a knight who, despite caring deeply for his only son, was a strict disciplinarian and had difficulty connecting to Darius on an emotional level, who suspected he had never fully recovered from his wife’s death.

He was quite popular at school and had a generally amiable nature that made him friends with pretty much all the other kids. Some would ask him why he chose to hang out with Drade so much, who was essentially the black sheep of the class. His go to response was usually “He’s good value” With a shrug, often leaving the asker to wonder exactly what he meant by that.

After the untimely death of his father, and Darius being labelled a shadow knight, he was never quite the same jokey, fun loving personality he used to be. Still he gets along well with the other soldiers and is known to join in on festivities on the odd occasion. Especially after a few drinks.

Prudence Fleecewood:

Prudence was raised in the Altairian Quarter and, as Toraanim is her second language, she speaks with a strong accent. But not so thick so others have trouble understanding her.

Prudence's parents run the successful Fleecewood clothing brand. As successful as the brand is, even in Toraan. Due to high tariffs incurred on Altairian manufacturing, her parents earn a tidy sum to live by, but nowhere near as much as many people would assume. Still, when it's brought up that her parents own the Fleecewood label, everyone assumes her family is rich.

As a child, she was always full of energy and quite a troublemaker. To the extent where she was always in trouble at school and often starting fights with other classmates. As an outlet for her aggression, her parents signed her up to fencing classes, and took to it instantly and excelled at it of course, and was soon winning competitions all across the Altairian Quarter and even in Toraan.

Prudence could never be only mildly interested in anything. As soon as she was hooked onto something she became fanatical. As a younger woman obsessed with fencing, she grew up idealising General Kaidence, and fantasised about growing up and joining the Royal Guard. As soon as she was 16 and old enough for service, she enlisted in the Infantry Corps.

Hard and straight forward. Prudence is easily excitable and for her the line between exuberance and aggression is exceptionally thin. She despises seeing a stronger person praying on a weakling and will be the first to confront a bully.

Frangelica and Esmerelda Keur:

Almost always referred to as Fran and Es. At first the twins might seem indistinguishable from each other, they often wear their hair differently to avoid confusion, but on the odd occasion will choose not to for a laugh. Although the other members of squad quickly pick up on the differences.

Tragedy entered their lives very early as their parents died in an automobile accident when they were four years old. They spent the next five years living in a state home. However when it looked like they might be split up, the two chose to run away together instead.

Living on the streets was tough for the pair. And the timid Es withdrew. Fran had to step up and take control. She grew up to be tough and always ready for a fight making sure that they both had enough to eat, sometimes going to extreme measures for survival. However as they grew older, learning the streets and who they could or couldn't trust. Es became the voice of reason and would often have to be the one to talk Fran down from a fight. Learning to become the diplomat of the pair.

As soon as they turned sixteen, the pair decided to enlist in the Artillery Corps. At the time the two figured it would be an easy pathway to eventually going back to school and having a normal life. But they took to soldiering exceptionally well. And the two worked effectively as a mortar team. They eventually decided to stay in the armed forces as a career and after taking part in the same tragic incident that got Darius accepted into the Royal Guard, the two earned medals, citations, and also were accepted into the Royal Guard training program.

Klein Birchley:

Klein sticks out among the members of, not just the squad but also the entire platoon, being the oldest and having come to the Royal Guard from the Police Corps, and also that he had never had any aspirations to join the Royal Guard.

Klein came from a long line of police officers, he had never dreamed of anything else. Although his family has a knightly surname, they became shadow knights generations ago, long before the war.

Barely out of secondary school, he applied to the police academy, and had a successful career as well as a family with his partner Clarice and three children. He has an odd way of communicating, a strange quirkiness coupled with a kind of social awkwardness, and an apparent lack of social awareness to the point where he could sometimes come off as incredibly rude. People often didn't know what to make of him upon first meeting and would frequently underestimate his considerable intelligence. this manner served him well as a detective. But he had difficulty maintaining friends outside of work and it put a strain on his relationships.

After an incident involving a hostage situation and Altairian terrorists, Klein played a key role in apprehending the criminals and freeing the hostages, having completely coincidentally been in the building as Clarice worked for the company where it all took place. Klein was labelled as a hero and became a local celebrity. However the media attention turned on his private life, being the final straw for Clarice, she left with the their children. And when the public attention to the local police, certain corrupt elements were exposed and Klein found himself caught in the middle of the situation.

It was then that Klein was offered two options by his superiors. Either resign from the police voluntarily. Or apply to the Royal Guard. Klein would have preferred neither. However he decided to take his chances in the famously gruelling Royal Guard training as a sort of act of defiance.

Tyron Wei:

Tyron grew up essentially a spoilt brat. An only child doted over by his wealthy parents. He went to an elite private school, and excelled in all of his classes, skipping over a few years in the process. Not only is he intelligent, he is also charismatic and quick witted. Very popular with all the students and the teachers.

He graduated secondary school at a very young age. And when he was sixteen he expressed to his parents his desire to apply to the Toraanim Armed Forces Academy. They weren't happy with his decision, but they would also never try to stop him from something he had already made his mind up about. It was a sad fair well when he left. However he still keeps in touch with them frequently and they often send him gifts such as baskets of sugary sweets or plush toys.

His swift intellect and logical, tactical mind, coupled with his good natured cockiness and friendly charisma made the brass quickly notice his potential. Not only in service for a year, he had a reputation as an excellent and competent soldier, and was admitted into the Royal Guard training.

As such, he was the youngest of all the recruits, and frequently gets made fun of for being the baby of the group. But his skills helped the squad get through training. He's a lynch pin in the squad's dynamic and is often seen as team mascot for his fun and charisma.

Erik Henderson:

Erik's thick glasses, chubby face, and easy going demeanour cause him to stick out among the tough and gruff soldiers of the Royal Guard. In fact, passing acquaintances who have never seen him in uniform are usually surprised when they do.

He had grown up in New Eleanor, and knew he had wanted to join the Royal Guard when he saw them marching in a parade as a child. Enamoured with their white and gold uniforms and the reverence the crowd showed for them. He enlisted the day after his sixteenth birthday. He spent several years in the Infantry Corps before being recruited into the Royal Guard, his quiet perseverance and camaraderie with his troops was eventually noticed by his superiors before he was recommended for their gruelling entrance program.

Erik was not in the squad’s training group, having joined the Royal Guard two years prior. When they passed he was promoted and assigned as Squad 3′s corporal,. Despite his relative inexperience, he very quickly connects with the rest of the team. And they admire his friendly approach, tempered by his professionalism. As well as his ability to think quickly on his feet.

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